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:

CONTENTS

Useless to inquire at Agency. They will never have heard of her. Find out what vehicle took her up to Hunter’s Lodge when she first arrived there.

Though mystified, I was obedient. The means of transport in Elmer’s Dale were limited. The local garage had two cars, and there were two station flies. None of these had been requisitioned on the date in question. I may also mention that inquiries at the Agency in London bore out Poirot’s prognostication. No such woman as “Mrs. Middleton” had ever been on their books. They had received the Hon. Mrs. Havering’s application for a housekeeper, and had sent her various applicants for the post. When she sent them the engagement fee, she omitted to mention which woman she had selected.

 It is suggested that the reader pause in his perusal of the story at this point, make his own solution of the mystery—and then see how close he comes to that of the author—The Editors.

Somewhat crestfallen, I returned to London. I found Poirot established in an armchair by the fire. He greeted me with much affection.

“Mon ami Hastings! But how glad I am to see you! Veritably I have for you a great affection! And 

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