"I don't know—betwixt and between, and just an ordinary sort of face."
Poirot nodded.
"Yes, there are hundreds of these average men—and, anyway, you bring more sympathy and appreciation to your description of women. Do you know anything about these people? Does Parker know them well."
"They are just recent acquaintances, I believe. But surely, Poirot, you don't think for an instant———"
Poirot raised his hand.
"Tout doucement, mon ami. Have I said that I think anything? All I say is—it is a curious story. And there is nothing to throw light upon it; except perhaps the lady's name, eh, Hastings?"
"Her name is Stella," I said stifliy, "but I don't see———"
Poirot interrupted me with a tremendous chuckle. Something seemed to be amusing him vastly.
"And Stella means a star, does it not? Famous!"
"What on earth———"
"And stars give light! Voilà! Calm yourself, Hastings. Do not put on that air of injured
