I think the walls were painted - some inconspicuous color.
There were rugs on the floor.
There was a piano." She shook her head. "I really couldn't tell you any more."
"But you are not trying, mademoiselle.
You must remember some object, some ornament, some piece of bric-a-brac?"
"There was a case of Egyptian jewelry, I remember," said Anne slowly. "Over by the window."
"Oh, yes, at the extreme other end of the room from the table on which lay the little dagger."
Anne looked at him.
"I never heard which table that was on."
Pas si bкte, commented Poirot to himself. But then, no more is Hercule Poirot!
If she knew me better she would realize I would never lay a piege as gross as that!
Aloud he said,
"A case of Egyptian jewelry, you say?"
Anne answered with some enthusiasm. "Yes - some of it was lovely.
Blues and red. Enamel.
One or two lovely rings.
And scarabs - but I don't like them so much."
"He was a great collector, Mr. Shaitana," murmured Poirot.
"Yes he must have been," Anne agreed. "The room was full of stuff.
One couldn't begin to look at it all."
"So that you cannot mention anything else that particularly struck your notice."
Anne smiled a little as she said,
"Only a vase of chrysanthemums that badly wanted their water changed."
"Ah, yes, servants are not always too particular about that."
Poirot was silent for a moment or two.
Anne said timidly,
"I'm afraid I haven't noticed - whatever it is you wanted me to notice."
Poirot smiled kindly.
"It does not matter, mon enfant.
It was, indeed, an outside chance.
Tell me, have you seen the good Major Despard lately?"
He saw the delicate pink color come up in the girl's face.
She replied,
"He said he would come and see us again quite soon."
Rhoda said impetuously, "He didn't do it, anyway! Anne and I are quite sure of that."
Poirot twinkled at them.
"How fortunate - to have convinced two such charming young ladies of one's innocence."
"Oh, dear," thought Rhoda. "He's going to be French, and it does embarrass me so."
She got up and began examining some etchings on the wall.
"These are awfully good," she said.
"They are not bad," replied Poirot.
He hesitated, looking at Anne.
"Mademoiselle," he said at last, "I wonder if I might ask you to do me a great favor - oh, nothing to do with the murder.
This is an entirely private and personal matter."
Anne looked a little surprised.
Poirot went on speaking in a slightly embarrassed manner.
"It is, you understand, that Christmas is coming on.
I have to buy presents for many nieces and grandnieces.
And it is a little difficult to choose what young ladies like in this present time.
My tastes, alas, are rather old-fashioned."