He turned on her in a rage and shouted at her, so that she cowered back before him.
"Will you lie to me? I tell you I know what happened as well as though I had been there. You went into her compartment and you found her dead. I tell you I know it. To lie to me is dangerous. Be careful, Mademoiselle Mirelle."
Her eyes wavered beneath his gaze and fell.
"I—I didn't—" she began uncertainly and stopped.
"There is only one thing about which I wonder," said Poirot—"I wonder, Mademoiselle, if you found what you were looking for or whether—"
"Whether what?"
"Or whether some one else had been before you."
"I will answer no more questions," screamed the dancer. She tore herself away from Poirot's restraining hand, and flinging herself down on the floor in a frenzy, she screamed and sobbed. A frightened maid came rushing in.
Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and quietly left the room.
But he seemed satisfied.