“What you would have me to understand is that madame plays a lone hand?”

“That is right, monsieur.”

“In other words, you cannot help me.”

“I fear not, monsieur. I would do if I could.”

“Tell me, your mistress is in a good mood today?”

“Decidedly, monsieur.”

“Something has happened to please her?”

“She has been in good spirits ever since she came here.”

“Well, Leonie, you should know.”

The girl answered confidently:

“Yes, monsieur. I could not be mistaken there. I know all madame’s moods. She is in high spirits.”

“Positively triumphant?”

“That is exactly the word, monsieur.”

Poirot nodded gloomily.

“I find that—a little hard to bear. Yet I perceive that it is inevitable. Thank you, mademoiselle, that is all.”

Leonie threw him a coquettish glance.

“Thank you, monsieur. If I meet monsieur on the stairs, be well-assured that I shall not scream.”

“My child,” said Poirot with dignity. “I am of advanced years. What have I to do with such frivolities?”

But with a little twitter of laughter, Leonie took herself off.

Poirot paced slowly up and down the room. His face became grave and anxious.

“And now,” he said at last, “for Lady Julia. What will she say, I wonder?”

Lady Julia came into the room with a quiet air of assurance. She bent her head graciously, accepted the chair that Poirot drew forward and spoke in a low, well-bred voice.

“Lord Mayfield says that you wish to ask me some questions.”

“Yes, madame. It is about last night.”

“About last night, yes?”

“What happened after you had finished your game of bridge?”

“My husband thought it was too late to begin another. I went up to bed.”

“And then?”

“I went to sleep.”

“That is all?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything of much interest. When did this”—she hesitated—“burglary occur?”

“Very soon after you went upstairs.”

“I see. And what exactly was taken?”

“Some private papers, madame.”

“Important papers?”

“Very important.”

She frowned a little and then said:

“They were—valuable?”

“Yes, madame, they were worth a good deal of money.”

“I see.”

There was a pause, and then Poirot said:

“What about your book, madame?”

“My book?” She raised bewildered eyes to him.

“Yes, I understand Mrs. Vanderlyn to say that some time after you three ladies had retired you went down again to fetch a book.”

“Yes, of course, so I did.”

“So that, as a matter of fact, you did not go straight to bed when you went upstairs? You returned to the drawing room?”

“Yes, that is true. I had forgotten.”

“While you were in the drawing room, did you hear someone scream?”

“No—yes—I don’t think so.”

“Surely, madame. You could not have failed to hear it in the drawing room.”

Lady Julia flung her head back and said firmly:

“I heard nothing.”

Poirot raised his eyebrows, but did not reply.

The silence grew uncomfortable. Lady Julia asked abruptly: