And I will tell you this, gentlemen: Her system paid!
Very, very rarely did she have to write off a bad debt.
A man or woman in a prominent position would go to desperate lengths to obtain the money which would obviate a public scandal.
As I say, we knew of her activities, but as for prosecution -" he shrugged his shoulders - "that is a more difficult matter. Human nature is human nature."
"And supposing," said Poirot, "that she did, as you say happened occasionally, have to write off a bad debt? What then?"
"In that case," said Fournier slowly, "the information she held was published, or was given to the person concerned in the matter."
There was a moment's silence.
Then Poirot said: "Financially, that did not benefit her?"
"No," said Fournier. "Not directly, that is."
"But indirectly?"
"Indirectly," said Japp, "it made the others pay up, eh?"
"Exactly," said Fournier. "It was valuable for what you call the moral effect."
"Immoral effect, I should call it," said Japp. "Well -" he rubbed his nose thoughtfully - "it opens up a very pretty line in motives for murder - a very pretty line.
Then there's the question of who is going to come into her money." He appealed to Thibault. "Can you help us there at all?"
"There was a daughter," said the lawyer. "She did not live with her mother; indeed, I fancy that her mother has never seen her since she was a tiny child.
But she made a will many years ago now, leaving everything, with the exception of a small legacy to her maid, to her daughter, Anne Morisot.
As far as I know, she has never made another."
"And her fortune is large?" asked Poirot.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
"At a guess, eight or nine million francs."
Poirot pursed his lips to a whistle.
Japp said, "Lord, she didn't look it!
Let me see. What's the exchange? - that's - why, that must be well over a hundred thousand pounds! Whew!"
"Mademoiselle Anne Morisot will be a very wealthy young woman," said Poirot.
"Just as well she wasn't on that plane," said Japp dryly. "She might have been suspected of bumping off her mother to get the dibs.
How old would she be?"
"I really cannot say.
I should imagine about twenty-four or five."
"Well, there doesn't seem anything to connect her with the crime.
We'll have to get down to this blackmailing business.
Everyone on that plane denies knowing Madame Giselle.
One of them is lying.
We've got to find out which.
An examination of her private papers might help, eh, Fournier?"
"My friend," said the Frenchman, "immediately the news came through, after I had conversed with Scotland Yard on the telephone, I went straight to her house.
There was a safe there containing papers. All those papers had been burned."
"Burned?
Who by?
Why?"
"Madame Giselle had a confidential maid, Elise.
Elise had instructions, in the event of anything happening to her mistress, to open the safe, the combination of which she knew, and burn the contents."
"What? But that's amazing!" Japp stared.
"You see," said Fournier, "Madame Giselle had her own code.
She kept faith with those who kept faith with her.
She gave her promise to her clients that she would deal honestly with them.
She was ruthless, but she was also a woman of her word."
Japp shook his head dumbly.
The four men were silent, ruminating on the strange character of the dead woman.
Maоtre Thibault rose.
"I must leave you, messieurs.