thereby reducing it almost to insignificance.
'Such a thing,' said Miss Pope, 'has never occurred before.'
'And never will again!' her manner seemed to say.
Hercule Poirot said: 'It was the girl's first term here, was it not?'
'It was.'
'You had a preliminary interview with Winnie – and with her parents?'
'Not recently. Two years ago, I was staying near Cranchester – with the Bishop, as a matter of fact -'
Miss Pope's manner said: 'Mark this, please. I am the kind of person who stays with Bishops!'
'While I was there I made the acquaintance of Canon and Mrs King. Mrs King, alas, is an invalid. I met Winnie then. A very well brought up girl, with a decided taste for art. I told Mrs King that I should be happy to receive her here in a year or two – when her general studies were completed. We specialise here, M. Poirot, in Art and Music. The girls are taken to the Opera, to the Comedie Francaise, they attend lectures at the Louvre. The very best masters come here to instruct them in music, singing, and painting. The broader culture, that is our aim.'
Miss Pope remembered suddenly that Poirot was not a parent and added abruptly: 'What can I do for you, M. Poirot?'
'I would be glad to know what is the present position regarding Winnie?'
'Canon King has come over to Amiens and is taking Winnie back with him. The wisest thing to do after the shock the child has sustained.'
She went on: 'We do not take delicate girls here. We have no special facilities for looking after invalids. I told the Canon that in my opinion he would do well to take the child home with him.'
Hercule Poirot asked bluntly: 'What in your opinion actually occurred, Miss Pope?'
'I have not the slightest idea, M. Poirot. The whole thing, as reported to me, sounds quite incredible. I really cannot see that the member of my staff who was in charge of the girls was in any way to blame – except that she might, perhaps, have discovered the girl's absence sooner.'
Poirot said: 'You have received a visit, perhaps, from the police?'
A faint shiver passed over Miss Pope's aristocratic form.
She said glacially: 'A Monsieur Lefarge of the Prefecture called to see me, to see if I could throw any light upon the situation. Naturally I was unable to do so. He then demanded to inspect Winnie's trunk which had, of course, arrived here with those of the other girls. I told him that that had already been called for by another member of the police. Their departments, I fancy, must overlap. I got a telephone call, shortly afterwards, insisting that I had not turned over all Winnie's possessions to them. I was extremely short with them over that. One must not submit to being bullied by officialdom.'
Poirot drew a long breath. He said: 'You have a spirited nature. I admire you for it, Mademoiselle. I presume that Winnie's trunk had been unpacked on arrival?'
Miss Pope looked a little put out of countenance.
'Routine,' she said. 'We live strictly by routine. The girls' trunks are unpacked on arrival and their things put away in the way I expect them to be kept. Winnie's things were unpacked with those of the other girls. Naturally, they were afterwards repacked, so that her trunk was handed over exactly as it had arrived.'
Poirot said: 'Exactly?'
He strolled over to the wall.
'Surely this is a picture of the famous Cranchester Bridge with the Cathedral showing in the distance.'
'You are quite right, M. Poirot. Winnie had evidently painted that to bring to me as a surprise. It was in her trunk with a wrapper round it and 'For Miss Pope from Winnie' written on it. Very charming of the child.'
'Ah!' said Poirot. 'And what do you think of it – as a painting?'
He himself had seen many pictures of Cranchester Bridge. It was a subject that could always be found represented at the Academy each year – sometimes as an oil painting – sometimes in the watercolour room. He had seen it painted well, painted in a mediocre fashion, painted boringly. But he had never seen it quite as crudely represented as in the present example.
Miss Pope was smiling indulgently.
She said: 'One must not discourage one's girls, M. Poirot. Winnie will be stimulated to do better work, of course.'
Poirot said thoughtfully: 'It would have been more natural, would it not, for her to do a water-colour?'
'Yes. I did not know she was attempting to paint in oils.'
'Ah,' said Hercule Poirot. 'You will permit me, Mademoiselle?'
He unhooked the picture and took it to the window. He examined it, then, looking up, he said: 'I am going to ask you, Mademoiselle, to give me this picture.'
'Well, really, M. Poirot -'
'You cannot pretend that you are very attached to it. The painting is abominable.'
'Oh, it has no artistic merit, I agree. But it is a pupil's work and -'
'I assure you. Mademoiselle, that it is a most unsuitable picture to have hanging upon your wall.'
'I don't know why you should say that, M. Poirot.'
'I will prove it to you in a moment.' He took a bottle, a sponge and some rags from his pocket.
He said: 'First I am going to tell you a little story, Mademoiselle. It has a resemblance to the story of the Ugly Duckling that turned into a Swan.'
He was working busily as he talked. The odour of turpentine filled the room.
'You do not perhaps go much to theatrical revues?'
'No, indeed, they seem to me so trivial…'
'Trivial, yes, but sometimes instructive. I have seen a clever revue artist change her personality in the most miraculous way. In one sketch she is a cabaret star, exquisite and glamorous. Ten minutes later, she is an undersized, anaemic child with adenoids, dressed in a gym tunic – ten minutes later still, she is a ragged gypsy telling fortunes by a caravan.'
'Very possible, no doubt, but I do not see -'
'But I am showing you how the conjuring trick was worked on the train. Winnie, the schoolgirl, with her fair plaits, her spectacles, her disfiguring dental plate – goes into the Toilette. She emerges a quarter of an hour later as – to use the words of Detective Inspector Heam – 'a flashy piece of goods'. Sheer silk stockings, high heeled shoes – a mink coat to cover a school uniform, a daring little piece of velvet called a hat perched on her curls – and a face – oh yes, a face. Rouge, powder, lipstick, mascara! What is the real face of that quick change artiste really like? Probably only the good God knows! But you, Mademoiselle, you yourself, you have often seen how the awkward schoolgirl changes almost miraculously into the attractive and well-groomed debutante.'
Miss Pope gasped.
'Do you mean that Winnie King disguised herself as -'
'Not Winnie King – no. Winnie was kidnapped on the way across London. Our quick change artiste took her place. Miss Burshaw had never seen Winnie King – how was she to know that the schoolgirl with the lank plaits and the brace on her teeth was not Winnie King at all? So far, so good, but the impostor could not afford actually to arrive here, since you were acquainted with the real Winnie. So hey presto, Winnie disappears in the Toilette and emerges as wife to a man called Jim Elliott whose passport includes a wife! The fair plaits, the spectacles, the lisle thread stockings, the dental plate – all that can go into a small space. But the thick unglamorous shoes and the hat – that very unyielding British hat – have to be disposed of elsewhere – they go out of the window. Later, the real Winnie is brought across the channel – no one is looking for a sick, half-doped child being brought from England to France – and is quietly deposited from a car by the side of the main road. If she has been doped all along with scopolamine, she will remember very little of what has occurred.'
Miss Pope was staring at Poirot.
She demanded: 'But why? What would be the reason of such a senseless masquerade?'
Poirot replied gravely: 'Winnie's luggage! These people wanted to smuggle something from England into France – something that every Customs man was on the look-out for – in fact, stolen goods. But what place is safer than a schoolgirl's trunk? You are well-known, Miss Pope, your establishment is justly famous. At the Gare du Nord the trunks of Mesdemoiselles the little Pensionnaires are passed en bloc. It is the well-known English school of Miss Pope! And then, after the kidnapping, what more natural than to send and collect the child's luggage – ostensibly from the Prefecture?'
