of that name.
'And yet, you know, the name is familiar to me, distinctly familiar. I seem to have seen it somewhere quite lately.'
Japp said drily:
'It's been in all the papers for some weeks -'
'Of course – some missing person, wasn't it? And you thought Mrs. Chapman might have known her? No, I'm sure I've never heard Sylvia mention that name.'
'Can you tell me anything about Mr. Chapman, Mrs. Merton?'
A rather curious expression came over Mrs. Merton's face. She said:
'He was a commercial traveller, I believe, so Mrs. Chapman told me. He travelled abroad for his firm – armaments, I believe. He went all over Europe.'
'Did you ever meet him?'
'No, never. He was at home so seldom, and when he was at home, he and Mrs. Chapman didn't want to bother with outsiders. Very naturally.'
'Do you know if Mrs. Chapman had any near relations or friends?'
'I don't know about friends. I don't think she had any near relations. She never spoke of any.'
'Was she ever in India?'
'Not that I know of.'
Mrs. Merton paused, and then broke out:
'But please tell me – why are you asking all these questions? I quite understand that you come from Scotland Yard and all that, but there must be some special reason?'
'Well, Mrs. Merton, you are bound to know some time. As a matter of fact, a dead body has been found in Mrs. Chapman's flat.'
'Oh -!' Mrs. Merton looked for a moment like the dog whose eyes were as big as saucers.
'A dead body! It wasn't Mr. Chapman, was it? Or perhaps some foreigner?'
Japp said:
'It wasn't a man at all – it was a woman.'
'A woman?' Mrs. Merton seemed even more surprised.
Poirot said gently:
'Why should you think it was a man?'
'Oh, I don't know. It seemed more likely somehow.'
'But why? Was it because Mrs. Chapman was in the habit of receiving gentlemen visitors?'
'Oh, no – oh, no, indeed.' Mrs. Merton was indignant. 'I never meant anything of that kind. Sylvia Chapman wasn't in the least that kind of a woman – not at all! It was just that, with Mr. Chapman – I mean -'
She came to a stop.
Poirot said:
'I think, Madame, that you know a little more than you have told us.'
Mrs. Morton said uncertainly:
'I don't know, I'm sure – what I ought to do! I mean, I don't exactly want to betray a confidence and of course I never have repeated what Sylvia told me – except just to one or two intimates whom I knew were really safe -'
Mrs. Morton paused to draw breath.
Japp said:
'What did Mrs. Chapman tell you?'
Mrs. Morton leaned forward and lowered her voice:
'It just – slipped out, as it were, one day. When we were seeing a film – about the Secret Service and Mrs. Chapman said you could see that whoever had written it didn't know much about their subject, and then it came out – only she swore me to secrecy. Mr. Chapman was in the Secret Service, I mean. That was the real reason he had to go abroad so much. The armament firm was only a blind. And it was terribly worrying for Mrs. Chapman because she couldn't write to him or get letters from him while he was away. And of course it was terribly dangerous!'
IV
As they went down the stairs again to Number 42, Japp ejaculated with feeling:
'Shades of Phillips Oppenheim, Valentine Williams and William le Quex! I think I'm going mad!'
That smart young man, Sergeant Beddoes, was awaiting them. He said respectfully:
'Haven't been able to get anything helpful from the maid, sir. Mrs. Chapman changed maids pretty often, it seems. This one had only worked for her a month or two. She says Mrs. Chapman was a nice lady, fond of the radio and pleasant spoken. Girl was of opinion the husband was a gay deceiver but that Mrs. Chapman didn't suspect it. She got letters from abroad sometimes, some from Germany, two from America, one from Italy and one from Russia. The girl's young man collects stamps, and Mrs. Chapman used to give them to her off the letters.'
'Anything among Mrs. Chapman's papers?'
'Absolutely nothing, sir. She didn't keep much. A few bills and receipted accounts – all local. Some old theatre programmes, one or two cookery recipes cut out of the papers, and a pamphlet about zenana missions.'
'And we can guess who brought that here. She doesn't sound like a murderess, does she? And yet that's what it seems to be. She's bound to be an accomplice anyway. No strange men seen about that evening?'
'The porter doesn't remember any – but then I don't suppose he would by now, and anyway it's a big block of flats – people always going in and out. He can only fix the date of Miss Sainsbury Seale's visit because he was taken off to the hospital the next day and was actually feeling rather bad that evening.'
'Anybody in the other flats hear anything out of the way?'
The younger man shook his head.
'I've inquired at the flat above this and the one below. Nobody can remember hearing anything unusual. Both of them had their radios on, I gather.'
The divisional surgeon came out of the bathroom where he had been washing his hands.
'Most unsavory corpse,' he said cheerfully. 'Send her along when you're ready and we'll get down to brass tacks.'
'No idea of the cause of death, doctor?'
'Impossible to say until I've done the autopsy. Those face injuries were definitely inflicted after death, I should say. But I shall know better when I've got her at the mortuary. Middle-aged woman, quite healthy – grey hair at the roots but tinted blonde. There may be distinguishing marks on the body – if there aren't, it may be a job to identify her – oh, you know who she is? That's splendid. What? Missing woman there's been all the fuss about? Well, you know, I never read the papers. Just do the crosswords.'
Japp said bitterly:
'And that's publicity for you!' as the doctor went out.
Poirot was hovering over the desk. He picked up a small brown address book.
The indefatigable Beddoes said:
'Nothing of special interest there – mostly hairdressers, dressmakers, etc. I've noted down any private names and addresses.'
Poirot opened the book at the letter D.
He read Dr. Davis, 17 Prince Albert Road; Drake and Pomponetti, Fishmongers. And below it: Dentist, Mr. Morley, 58 Queen Charlotte Street.
There was a green light in Poirot's eyes. He said:
'There will be no difficulty, I imagine, in positively identifying the body.'
Japp looked at him curiously. He said: 'Surely – you don't imagine -?'
Poirot said with vehemence:
'I want to be sure.'
