“Which girl? The parlour maid?”

“Yes, the parlour maid. Ursula Bourne.”

“She seemed a nice girl,” I said hesitatingly.

Poirot repeated my words, but whereas I had laid a slight stress on the fourth word, he put it on the second. “She seemed a nice girl⁠—yes.”

Then, after a minute’s silence, he took something from his pocket and handed it to me.

“See, my friend, I will show you something. Look there.”

The paper he had handed me was that compiled by the inspector and given by him to Poirot that morning. Following the pointing finger, I saw a small cross marked in pencil opposite the name Ursula Bourne.