The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie [77]
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 anyone 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 façade, 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 watercolour 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 judgement 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 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 specialize here, M. Poirot, in Art and