style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Only because stabbing seems somehow more like a woman.’
Battle did his conjuring trick. Anne Meredith shrank back.
‘Oh, horrible. Must I—take it?’
‘I’d rather you did.’
He watched her as she took the stiletto gingerly, her face contracted with repulsion.
‘With this tiny thing—with this—’
‘Go in like butter,’ said Battle with gusto. ‘A child could do it.’
‘You mean—you mean’—wide, terrified eyes fixed themselves on his face—‘that I might have done it? But I didn’t. Why should I?’
‘That’s just the question we’d like to know,’ said Battle. ‘What’s the motive? Why did anyone want to kill Shaitana? He was a picturesque person, but he wasn’t dangerous, as far as I can make out.’
Was there a slight indrawing of her breath—a sudden lifting of her breast?
‘Not a blackmailer, for instance, or anything of that sort?’ went on Battle. ‘And anyway, Miss Meredith, you don’t look the sort of girl who’s got a lot of guilty secrets.’
For the first time she smiled, reassured by his geniality.
‘No, indeed I haven’t. I haven’t got any secrets at all.’
‘Then don’t worry, Miss Meredith. We shall have to come round and ask you a few more questions, I expect, but it will be all a matter of routine.’
He got up.
‘Now off you go. My constable will get you a taxi; and don’t you lie awake worrying yourself. Take a couple of aspirins.’
He ushered her out. As he came back Colonel Race said in a low, amused voice:
‘Battle, what a really accomplished liar you are! Your fatherly air was unsurpassed.’
‘No good dallying about with her, Colonel Race. Either the poor kid is dead scared—in which case it’s cruelty, and I’m not a cruel man; I never have been—or she’s a highly accomplished little actress, and we shouldn’t get any further if we were to keep her here half the night.’
Mrs Oliver gave a sigh and ran her hands freely through her fringe until it stood upright and gave her a wholly drunken appearance.
‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘I rather believe now that she did it! It’s lucky it’s not in a book. They don’t really like the young and beautiful girl to have done it. All the same, I rather think she did. What do you think, M. Poirot?’
‘Me, I have just made a discovery.’
‘In the bridge scores again?’
‘Yes, Miss Anne Meredith turns her score over, draws lines and uses the back.’
‘And what does that mean?’
‘It means she has the habit of poverty or else is of a naturally economical turn of mind.’
‘She’s expensively dressed,’ said Mrs Oliver.
‘Send in Major Despard,’ said Superintendent Battle.
Despard entered the room with a quick springing step—a step that reminded Poirot of something or some one.
‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting all this while, Major Despard,’ said Battle. ‘But I wanted to let the ladies get away as soon as possible.’
‘Don’t apologize. I understand.’
He sat down and looked inquiringly at the superintendent.
‘How well did you know Mr Shaitana?’ began the latter.
‘I’ve met him twice,’ said Despard crisply.
‘Only twice?’
‘That’s all.’
‘On what occasions?’
‘About a month ago we were both dining at the same house. Then he asked me to a cocktail party a week later.’
‘A cocktail party here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where did it take place—this room or the drawing-room?’
‘In all the rooms.’
‘See this little thing lying about?’
Battle once more produced the stiletto.
Major Despard’s lip twisted slightly.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mark it down on that occasion for future use.’
‘There’s no need to go ahead of what I say, Major Despard.’
‘I beg your pardon. The inference was fairly obvious.’
There was a moment’s pause, then Battle resumed his inquiries.
‘Had you any motive for disliking Mr Shaitana?’
‘Every motive.’
‘Eh?’ The superintendent sounded startled.
‘For disliking him—not for killing him,’ said Despard. ‘I hadn’t the least wish to kill him, but I would thoroughly have enjoyed kicking him. A pity. It’s too late now.’
‘Why did you want to kick him, Major Despard?’
‘Because he was the sort of Dago who needed kicking badly. He used to make the toe of my boot fairly itch.’
‘Know anything about him—to his discredit, I mean?’
‘He was too well dressed—he wore his hair too long—and he smelt of scent.’
‘Yet you accepted his invitation to dinner,’ Battle pointed out.
‘If I were only to dine in houses where I thoroughly approved of my host I’m afraid I shouldn’t dine out very much, Superintendent Battle,’ said Despard drily.
‘You like society, but you don’t approve of it?’ suggested the other.
‘I like it for very short periods. To come back from the wilds to lighted
