her post ?"

The woman hesitated a moment before

saying:

"I couldn't say, I'm sure."

"She was dismissed, was she not ?"

"Well --I believe there was a bit of a

dust up! But mind you. Miss Valetta

didn't let on much about it. She wasn't one

to give things away. But she looked wild

about it. Wicked temper she had--real

Eyetalian--her black eyes all snapping

and looking as if she'd like to put a knife

into you. I wouldn't have crossed her

when she was in one of her moods!"

"And you are quite sure you do not

know Miss Valetta's present address ?"

The half-crowns clinked again encouragingly.

The answer rang true enough.

"I wish I did, sir. I'd be only too glad

to tell you. But there --she went off in a

hurry and there it is!"

Poirot said to himself thoughtfully:

"Yes, there it is ..."

116

Ill

Ambrose Vandel, diverted from his

enthusiastic account of the decor he was

designing for a forthcoming ballet, supplied

information easily enough.

"Sanderfield ? George Sanderfield ? Nasty

fellow. Rolling in money but they say he's

a crook. Dark horse! Affair with a dancer ?

But of course, my dear --he had an affair

with Katrina. Katrina Samoushenka. You must have seen her? Oh, my dear--too delicious. Lovely technique. The Swan of

Tuolela--you must have seen that? My

decor! And that other thing of Debussy

or is it Mannine 'La Biche au Bois' ? She

danced it with Michael Novgin. He's so marvellous, isn't he ?"

"And she was a friend of Sir George

Sanderfield ?"

"Yes, she used to weekend with him

at his house on the river. Marvellous

parties I believe he gives."

"Would it be possible, mon cher, for you

to introduce me to Mademoiselle Samoushenka

?"

"But, my dear, she isn't here any longer.

She went to Paris or somewhere quite

E ii7

suddenly. You know, they do say that she was a Bolshevik spy or something--not that I believed it myself--you know

people love saying things like that. Katrina

always pretended that she was a White

Russian--her father was a Prince or a

Grand Duke--the usual thing! It goes down so much better." Vandel paused and returned to the absorbing subject of himself.

"Now as I was saying, if you want

to get the spirit of Bathsheba you've got

to steep yourself in the Semitic tradition.

I express it by --"

He continued happily.

IV

The interview that Hercule Poirot managed

to arrange with Sir George Sanderfield

did not start too auspiciously.

The "dark horse," as Ambrose Vandel

had called him, was slightly ill at ease.

Sir George was a short square man with

dark coarse hair and a roll of fat in his

neck.

He said:

"Well, M. Poirot, what can I do for you ?

Er --we haven't met before, I think ?"

''N0, we have not met."

118

"Well, what is it? I confess, I'm quite

curious.3'

"Oh, it is very simple — a mere matter