cap. She was the very model and picture of a good old-fashioned servant.
In her attitude towards Poirot, she was inclined to be suspicious, but he soon broke down her defences. He drew forward a chair.
“Pray be seated, mademoiselle.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have been with your mistress many years, is it not so?”
“Ten years, sir.”
“That is a long time, and very faithful service. You were much attached to her, were you not?”
“She was a very good mistress to me, sir.”
“Then you will not object
look on any man’s face. He was white as chalk, the candle he held in his shaking hand was sputtering onto the carpet, and his eyes, petrified with terror, or some such kindred emotion, stared fixedly over my head at a point on the further wall. It was as though he had seen something that turned him