According to the owner of Simpson's Galleries it had been stolen by a gang of international crooks on behalf of a certain millionaire who was not above acquiring works of art at a surprisingly low price – and no questions asked! The Rubens, said Simpson, would be smuggled over to France where it would pass into the millionaire's possession. The English and French police were on the alert, nevertheless Simpson was of the opinion that they would fail.
'And once it has passed into this dirty dog's possession, it's going to be more difficult. Rich men have to be treated with respect. That's where you come in. The situation's going to be delicate. You're the man for that.'
Finally, without enthusiasm, Hercule Poirot was induced to accept the task. He agreed to depart for France immediately. He was not very interested in his quest, but because of it, he was introduced to the case of the Missing Schoolgirl which interested him very much indeed.
He first heard of it from Chief Inspector Japp who dropped in to see him just as Poirot was expressing approval of his valet's packing.
'Ha,' said Japp. 'Going to France, aren't you?'
Poirot said: 'Mon cher, you are incredibly well informed at Scotland Yard.'
Japp chuckled. He said: 'We have our spies! Simpson's got you on to this Rubens business. Doesn't trust us, it seems! Well, that's neither here nor there, but what I want you to do is something quite different. As you're going to Paris anyway, I thought you might as well kill two birds with one stone. Detective Inspector Hearn's over there cooperating with the Frenchies – you know Hearn? Good chap – but perhaps not very imaginative. I'd like your opinion on the business.'
'What is this matter of which you speak?'
'Child's disappeared. It'll be in the papers this evening. Looks as though she's been kidnapped. Daughter of a Canon down at Cranchester. King, her name is, Winnie King.'
He proceeded with the story.
Winnie had been on her way to Paris, to join that select and high-class establishment for English and American girls – Miss Pope's. Winnie had come up from Cranchester by the early train – had been seen across London by a member of Elder Sisters Ltd. who undertook such work as seeing girls from one station to another, had been delivered at Victoria to Miss Burshaw, Miss Pope's second-in-command, and had then, in company with eighteen other girls, left Victoria by the boat train. Nineteen girls had crossed the channel, had passed through the customs at Calais, had got into the Paris train, had lunched in the restaurant car. But when, on the outskirts of Paris, Miss Burshaw had counted heads, it was discovered that only eighteen girls could be found!
'Aha,' Poirot nodded. 'Did the train stop anywhere?'
'It stopped at Amiens, but at that time the girls were in the restaurant car and they all say positively that Winnie was with them then. They lost her, so to speak, on the return journey to their compartments. That is to say, she did not enter her own compartment with the other five girls who were in it. They did not suspect anything was wrong, merely thought she was in one of the two other reserved carriages.'
Poirot nodded. 'So she was last seen – when exactly?'
'About ten minutes after the train left Amiens.' Japp coughed modestly. 'She was last seen – er – entering the toilette.'
Poirot murmured: 'Very natural.' He went on: 'There is nothing else?'
'Yes, one thing.' Japp's face was grim. 'Her hat was found by the side of the line – at a spot approximately fourteen miles from Amiens.'
'But no body?'
'No body.'
Poirot asked: 'What do you yourself think?'
'Difficult to know what to think! As there's no sign of her body – she can't have fallen off the train.'
'Did the train stop at all after leaving Amiens?'
'No. It slowed up once – for a signal, but it didn't stop, and I doubt if it slowed up enough for anyone to have jumped off without injury. You're thinking that the kid got a panic and tried to run away? It was her first term and she might have been homesick, that's true enough, but all the same she was fifteen and a half – a sensible age, and she'd been in quite good spirits all the journey, chattering away and all that.'
Poirot asked: 'Was the train searched?'
'Oh yes, they went right through it before it arrived at the Nord station. The girl wasn't on the train, that's quite certain.'
Japp added in an exasperated manner: 'She just disappeared – into thin air! It doesn't make sense, M. Poirot. It's crazy!'
'What kind of a girl was she?'
'Ordinary, normal type as far as I can make out.'
'I mean – what did she look like?'
'I've got a snap of her here. She's not exactly a budding beauty.'
He proffered the snapshot to Poirot who studied it in silence.
It represented a lanky girl with her hair in two limp plaits. It was not a posed photograph, the subject had clearly been caught unawares. She was in the act of eating an apple, her lips were parted, showing slightly protruding teeth confined by a dentist's plate. She wore spectacles.
Japp said: 'Plain-looking kid – but then they are plain at that age! Was at my dentist's yesterday. Saw a picture in the Sketch of Marcia Gaunt, this season's beauty. I remember her at fifteen when I was down at the Castle over their burglary business. Spotty, awkward, teeth sticking out, hair all lank and anyhow. They grow into beauties overnight – I don't know how they do it! It's like a miracle.'
Poirot smiled. 'Women,' he said, 'are a miraculous sex! What about the child's family? Have they anything helpful to say?'
Japp shook his head. 'Nothing that's any help. Mother's an invalid. Poor old Canon King is absolutely bowled over. He swears that the girl was frightfully keen to go to Paris – had been looking forward to it. Wanted to study painting and music – that sort of thing. Miss Pope's girls go in for Art with a capital A. As you probably know, Miss Pope's is a very well-known establishment. Lots of society girls go there. She's strict – quite a dragon – and very expensive – and extremely particular whom she takes.'
Poirot sighed. 'I know the type. And Miss Burshaw who took the girls over from England?'
'Not exactly frantic with brains. Terrified that Miss Pope will say it's her fault.'
Poirot said thoughtfully: 'There is no young man in the case?'
Japp gesticulated towards the snapshot. 'Does she look like it?'
'No, she does not. But notwithstanding her appearance, she may have a romantic heart. Fifteen is not so young.'
'Well,' said Japp. 'If a romantic heart spirited her off that train, I'll take to reading lady novelists.'
He looked hopefully at Poirot.
'Nothing strikes you – eh?'
Poirot shook his head slowly.
He said: 'They did not, by any chance, find her shoes also by the side of the line?'
'Shoes? No. Why shoes?'
Poirot murmured: 'Just an idea…'
II
Hercule Poirot was just going down to his taxi when the telephone rang. He took off the receiver.
'Yes?'
Japp's voice spoke.
'Glad I've just caught you. It's all off, old man. Found a message at the Yard when I got back. The girl's turned up. At the side of the main road fifteen miles from Amiens. She's dazed and they can't get any coherent story from her, doctor says she's been doped – However, she's all right. Nothing wrong with her.'
Poirot said slowly: 'So you have, then, no need of my services?'
