‘That is how you think it happened?’

‘Yes.’ She added vehemently, ‘It was murder—murder!’

Poirot said gravely:

‘I will not say that you are wrong, mademoiselle.’

Japp said:

‘What cigarettes did Mrs Allen smoke?’

‘Gaspers. There are some in that box.’

Japp opened the box, took out a cigarette and nodded. He slipped the cigarette into his pocket.

‘And you, mademoiselle?’ asked Poirot.

‘The same.’

‘You do not smoke Turkish?’

‘Never.’

‘Nor Mrs Allen?’

‘No. She didn’t like them.’

Poirot asked:

‘And Mr Laverton-West. What did he smoke?’

She stared hard at him.

‘Charles? What does it matter what he smoked? You’re not going to pretend that he killed her?’

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

‘A man has killed the woman he loved before now, mademoiselle.’

Jane shook her head impatiently.

‘Charles wouldn’t kill anybody. He’s a very careful man.’

‘All the same, mademoiselle, it is the careful men who commit the cleverest murders.’

She stared at him.

‘But not for the motive you have just advanced, M. Poirot.’

He bowed his head.

‘No, that is true.’

Japp rose.

‘Well, I don’t think that there’s much more I can do here. I’d like to have one more look round.’

‘In case that money should be tucked away somewhere? Certainly. Look anywhere you like. And in my room too—although it isn’t likely Barbara would hide it there.’

Japp’s search was quick but efficient. The living-room had given up all its secrets in a very few minutes. Then he went upstairs. Jane Plenderleith sat on the arm of a chair, smoking a cigarette and frowning at the fire. Poirot watched her.

After some minutes, he said quietly:

‘Do you know if Mr Laverton-West is in London at present?’

‘I don’t know at all. I rather fancy he’s in Hampshire with his people. I suppose I ought to have wired him. How dreadful. I forgot.’

‘It is not easy to remember everything, mademoiselle, when a catastrophe occurs. And after all, the bad news, it will keep. One hears it only too soon.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ the girl said absently.

Japp’s footsteps were heard descending the stairs. Jane went out to meet him.

‘Well?’

Japp shook his head.

‘Nothing helpful, I’m afraid, Miss Plenderleith. I’ve been over the whole house now. Oh, I suppose I’d better just have a look in this cupboard under the stairs.’

He caught hold of the handle as he spoke, and pulled.

Jane Plenderleith said:

‘It’s locked.’

Something in her voice made both men look at her sharply.

‘Yes,’ said Japp pleasantly. ‘I can see it’s locked. Perhaps you’ll get the key.’

The girl was standing as though carved in stone.

‘I—I’m not sure where it is.’

Japp shot a quick glance at her. His voice continued resolutely pleasant and off-hand.

‘Dear me, that’s too bad. Don’t want to splinter the wood, opening it by force. I’ll send Jameson out to get an assortment of keys.’

She moved forward stiffly.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘One minute. It might be—’

She went back into the living-room and reappeared a moment later holding a fair-sized key in her hand.