'You'd better get us a taxi,' she said to Stillingfleet.
Dr. Stillingfleet nodded and left the room. Mrs. Oliver collected a handbag and a fur stole and Norma slipped on a coat and followed her to the door.
'Madamey un petit moment - ' Mrs. Oliver turned. Poirot had collected from the recesses of the sofa a handsome coil of grey hair.
Mrs. Oliver exclaimed vexedly: 'It's just like everything that they make nowadays, no good at all! Hairpins, I mean.
They just slip out, and everything falls.' She went out frowning.
A moment or two later she poked her head round the door again. She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper: 'Just tell me-it's all right, I've sent her on down - did you send that girl to this particular doctor on purpose?'
'Of course I did. His qualifications are - '
'Never mind his qualifications. You know what I mean. He and she - Did you?'
'If you must know, yes.'
'I thought so,' said Mrs. Oliver. 'You do think of things, don't you.'
