It seemed to me that Poirot’s style was unnecessarily facetious. I also fancied he was a shade jealous of my position on the spot, with full facilities for handling the case. His request for a description of the clothes worn by the two women appeared to me to be simply ridiculous, but I complied as well as I, a mere man, was able to. At eleven a reply wire came from Poirot:
Advise Japp arrest housekeeper before it is too late.
Dumfounded, I took the wire to Japp. He swore softly under his breath.
“He’s the goods, M. Poirot! If he says so, there’s something in it. And I hardly noticed the woman! I don’t know that I can go so far as arresting her, but I’ll have her watched. We’ll go up right away and take another look at her.”
But it was too late. Mrs. Middleton, that quiet, middle-aged woman, who had appeared so normal and respectable, had vanished into thin air. Her box had been left behind. It contained only ordinary wearing apparel. There was no clue in it to her identity, or as to her whereabouts.
From Mrs. Havering we elicited all the facts we could.
“I engaged her about three weeks ago, when Mrs. Emery, our former housekeeper, left. She came to me from Mrs. Selboume’s Agency in Mount St.—a very well-known place. I get all my servants from there. They sent several women to see me, but this Mrs. Middleton seemed much the nicest, and had splendid references. I engaged her on the spot, and notified the Agency of the fact. I can’t believe that there was anything wrong with her. She was such a nice, quiet woman.”
The thing was certainly a mystery.
While it was clear that the woman herself could not have committed the crime, since at the moment the shot was fired Mrs. Havering was with her in the hall, nevertheless she must have some connection with the murder, or why should she suddenly take to her heels and bolt?
I wired the latest development to Poirot, and suggested returning to London and making inquiries at Selbourne’s Agency. Poirot’s reply was prompt: