She smiled, a warm, compelling smile of perfect health and deep satisfaction.

‘Do tell me if there’s anything at all I can do?’

‘I thank you, madame. You played bridge in the drawing-room last night?’

‘Yes.’

‘I understand that then all the ladies went up to bed?’

‘That is right.’

‘But someone came back to fetch a book. That was you, was it not, Mrs Vanderlyn?’

‘I was the first one to come back—yes.’

‘What do you mean—the first one?’ said Poirot sharply.

‘I came back right away,’ explained Mrs Vanderlyn. ‘Then I went up and rang for my maid. She was a long time in coming. I rang again. Then I went out on the landing. I heard her voice and I called her. After she had brushed my hair I sent her away, she was in a nervous, upset state and tangled the brush in my hair once or twice. It was then, just as I sent her away, that I saw Lady Julia coming up the stairs. She told me she had been down again for a book, too. Curious, wasn’t it?’

Mrs Vanderlyn smiled as she finished, a wide, rather feline smile. Hercule Poirot thought to himself that Mrs Vanderlyn did not like Lady Julia Carrington.

‘As you say, madame. Tell me, did you hear your maid scream?’

‘Why, yes, I did hear something of that kind.’

‘Did you ask her about it?’

‘Yes. She told me she thought she had seen a floating figure in white—such nonsense!’

‘What was Lady Julia wearing last night?’

‘Oh, you think perhaps—Yes, I see. She was wearing a white evening-dress. Of course, that explains it. She must have caught sight of her in the darkness just as a white figure. These girls are so superstitious.’

‘Your maid has been with you a long time, madame?’

‘Oh, no.’ Mrs Vanderlyn opened her eyes rather wide. ‘Only about five months.’

‘I should like to see her presently, if you do not mind, madame.’

Mrs Vanderlyn raised her eyebrows.

‘Oh, certainly,’ she said rather coldly.

‘I should like, you understand, to question her.’

‘Oh, yes.’

Again a flicker of amusement.

Poirot rose and bowed.

‘Madame,’ he said. ‘You have my complete admiration.’

Mrs Vanderlyn for once seemed a trifle taken aback.

‘Oh, M. Poirot, how nice of you, but why?’

‘You are, madame, so perfectly armoured, so completely sure of yourself.’

Mrs Vanderlyn laughed a little uncertainly.

‘Now I wonder,’ she said, ‘if I am to take that as a compliment?’

Poirot said:

‘It is, perhaps, a warning—not to treat life with arrogance.’

Mrs Vanderlyn laughed with more assurance. She got up and held out a hand.

‘Dear M. Poirot, I do wish you all success. Thank you for all the charming things you have said to me.’

She went out. Poirot murmured to himself:

‘You wish me success, do you? Ah, but you are very sure I am not going to meet with success! Yes, you are very sure indeed. That, it annoys me very much.’