not tortured me enough, all of you? Have you not made me betray my poor Dereek? What more do you want?"
"Just one little question, Mademoiselle. After the train left Lyons, when you entered Mrs. Kettering's compartment"
"What is that?"
Poirot looked at her with an air of mild reproach and began again.
"I say when you entered Mrs. Kettering's compartment"
"I never did."
"And found her"
"I never did."
"Ah, sacré!"
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
