'Afraid not! In fact – sorrrry you have been trrrroubled.'
Japp laughed at his witticism and rang off.
Hercule Poirot did not laugh. He put back the receiver slowly. His face was worried.
III
Detective Inspector Hearn looked at Poirot curiously.
He said: 'I'd no idea you'd be so interested, sir.'
Poirot said: 'You had word from Chief Inspector Japp that I might consult with you over this matter?'
Hearn nodded. 'He said you were coming over on some other business, and that you'd give us a hand with this puzzle. But I didn't expect you now it's all cleared up. I thought you'd be busy on your own job.'
Hercule Poirot said: 'My own business can wait. It is this affair here that interests me. You called it a puzzle, and you say it is now ended. But the puzzle is still there, it seems.'
'Well, sir, we've got the child back. And she's not hurt. That's the main thing.'
'But it does not solve the problem of how you got her back, does it? What does she herself say? A doctor saw her, did he not? What did he say?'
'Said she'd been doped. She was still hazy with it. Apparently, she can't remember anything much after starting off from Cranchester. All later events seem to have been wiped out. Doctor thinks she might possibly have had slight concussion. There's a bruise on the back of her head. Says that would account for a complete blackout of memory.'
Poirot said: 'Which is very convenient for – someone!'
Inspector Hearn said in a doubtful voice: 'You don't think she is shamming, sir?'
'Do you?'
'No, I'm sure she isn't. She's a nice kid – a bit young for her age.'
'No, she is not shamming.' Poirot shook his head. 'But I would like to know how she got off that train. I want to know who is responsible – and why?'
'As to why, I should say it was an attempt at kidnapping, sir. They meant to hold her to ransom.'
'But they didn't!'
'Lost their nerve with the hue and cry – and planted her by the road quick.'
Poirot enquired sceptically: 'And what ransom were they likely to get from a Canon of Cranchester Cathedral? English Church dignitaries are not millionaires.'
Detective Inspector Hearn said cheerfully: 'Made a botch of the whole thing, sir, in my opinion.'
'Ah, that's your opinion.'
Hearn said, his face flushing slightly: 'What's yours, sir?'
'I want to know how she was spirited off that train.'
The policeman's face clouded over.
'That's a real mystery, that is. One minute she was there, sitting in the dining-car, chatting to the other girls. Five minutes later she's vanished – hey presto – like a conjuring trick.'
'Precisely, like a conjuring trick! Who else was there in the coach of the train where Miss Pope's reserved compartments were?'
Inspector Hearn nodded.
'That's a good point, sir. That's important. It's particularly important because it was the last coach on the train and as soon as all the people were back from the restaurant car, the doors between the coaches were locked – actually so as to prevent people crowding along to the restaurant car and demanding tea before they'd had time to clear up lunch and get ready. Winnie King came back to the coach with the others – the school had three reserved compartments there.'
'And in the other compartments of the coach?'
Hearn pulled out his notebook.
'Miss Jordan and Miss Butters – two middle-aged spinsters going to Switzerland. Nothing wrong with them, highly respectable, well known in Hampshire where they come from. Two French commercial travellers, one from Lyons, one from Paris. Both respectable middle-aged men. A young man, James Elliot, and his wife – flashy piece of goods she was. He's got a bad reputation, suspected by the police of being mixed up in some questionable transactions – but has never touched kidnapping. Anyway, his compartment was searched and there was nothing in his hand luggage to show that he was mixed up in this. Don't see how he could have been. Only other person was an American lady, Mrs Van Suyder, travelling to Paris. Nothing known about her. Looks OK. That's the lot.'
Hercule Poirot said: 'And it is quite definite that the train did not stop after it left Amiens?'
'Absolutely. It slowed down once, but not enough to let any one jump off – not without damaging themselves pretty severely and risking being killed.'
Hercule Poirot murmured: 'That is what makes the problem so peculiarly interesting. The schoolgirl vanishes into thin air – just outside Amiens. She reappears from thin air just outside Amiens. Where has she been in the meantime?'
Inspector Hearn shook his head.
'It sounds mad, put like that. Oh! by the way, they told me you were asking something about shoes – the girl's shoes. She had her shoes on all right when she was found, but there was a pair of shoes on the line, a signalman found them. Took 'em home with him as they seemed in good condition. Stout black walking shoes.'
'Ah,' said Poirot. He looked gratified.
Inspector Hearn said curiously: 'I don't get the meaning of the shoes, sir? Do they mean anything?'
'They confirm a theory,' said Hercule Poirot. 'A theory of how the conjuring trick was done.'
IV
Miss Pope's establishment was, like many other establishments of the same kind, situated in Neuilly. Hercule Poirot, staring up at its respectable facade, was suddenly submerged by a flow of girls emerging from its portals.
He counted twenty-five of them, all dressed alike in dark blue coats and skirts with uncomfortable-looking British hats of dark blue velour on their heads, round which was tied the distinctive purple and gold of Miss Pope's choice. They were of ages varying from fourteen to eighteen, thick and slim, fair and dark, awkward and graceful. At the end, walking with one of the younger girls, was a grey-haired, fussy looking woman whom Poirot judged to be Miss Burshaw.
Poirot stood looking after them a minute, then he rang the bell and asked for Miss Pope.
Miss Lavinia Pope was a very different person from her second-in-command, Miss Burshaw. Miss Pope had personality. Miss Pope was awe inspiring. Even should Miss Pope unbend graciously to parents, she would still retain that obvious superiority to the rest of the world which is such a powerful asset to a schoolmistress.
Her grey hair was dressed with distinction, her costume was severe but chic. She was competent and omniscient.
The room in which she received Poirot was the room of a woman of culture. It had graceful furniture, flowers, some framed, signed photographs of those of Miss Pope's pupils who were of note in the world – many of them in their presentation gowns and feathers. On the walls hung reproductions of the world's artistic masterpieces and some good water-colour sketches. The whole place was clean and polished to the last degree. No speck of dust, one felt, would have the temerity to deposit itself in such a shrine.
Miss Pope received Poirot with the competence of one whose judgment seldom fails.
'M. Hercule Poirot? I know your name, of course. I suppose you have come about this very unfortunate affair of Winnie King. A most distressing incident.'
Miss Pope did not look distressed. She took disaster as it should be taken, dealing with it competently and
