He remarked appreciatively: "First class skins."
He went on into the bathroom. There was a lavish display of cosmetics.
Poirot looked at them with interest. Powder, rouge, vanishing cream, skin food, two bottles of hair application.
Japp said: "Not one of our natural platinum blondes, I gather."
Poirot murmured: "At forty, mon ami, the hair of most women has begun to go grey but Mrs. Chapman was not one to yield to nature."
"She's probably gone henna red by now for a change."
"I wonder?"
Japp said:
"There's something worrying you, Poirot. What is it?"
Poirot said: "But yes, I am worried.
I am very seriously worried.
There is here, you see, for me an insoluble problem."
Resolutely he went once more into the box room.
He took hold of the shoe on the dead woman's foot.
It resisted and came off with difficulty.
He examined the buckle. It had been clumsily sewn on by hand.
Hercule Poirot sighed. He said: "It is that I am dreaming!"
Japp said curiously: "What are you trying to do – make the thing more difficult?"
"Exactly that."
Japp said: "One patent leather shoe, complete with buckle. What's wrong with that?"
Hercule Poirot said: "Nothing – absolutely nothing.
But all the same – I do not understand."
III Mrs. Merton of 82 King Leopold Mansions had been designated by the porter as Mrs. Chapman's closest friend in the Mansions.
It was, therefore, to 82 that Japp and Poirot betook themselves next.
Mrs. Merton was a loquacious lady, with snapping black eyes, and an elaborate coiffure.
It needed no pressure to make her talk.
She was only too ready to rise to a dramatic situation.
"Sylvia Chapman – well, of course, I don't know her really well – not intimately, so to speak.
We had a few bridge evenings occasionally and we went to the pictures together, and, of course, shopping sometimes.
But, oh, do tell me – she isn't dead, is she?"
Japp reassured her.
"Well, I'm sure I'm thankful to hear it!
But the postman just now was all agog about a body having been found in one of the flats – but then one really can't believe half one hears, can one?
I never do."
Japp asked a further question.
"No, I haven't heard anything of Mrs. Chapman – not since she went away. She must have gone away rather suddenly, because we had spoken about going to see the new Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire the following week, and she said nothing about going away then."
Mrs. Merton had never heard a Miss Sainsbury Seale mentioned. Mrs. Chapman had never spoken of anyone of that name.
"And yet, you know, the name is familiar to me, distinctly familiar. I seem to have seen it somewhere quite lately."
Japp said drily: "It's been in all the papers for some weeks -"
"Of course – some missing person, wasn't it? And you thought Mrs. Chapman might have known her?
No, I'm sure I've never heard Sylvia mention that name."
"Can you tell me anything about Mr. Chapman, Mrs. Merton?"
A rather curious expression came over Mrs. Merton's face.
She said: "He was a commercial traveller, I believe, so Mrs. Chapman told me.
He travelled abroad for his firm – armaments, I believe. He went all over Europe."
"Did you ever meet him?"
"No, never.
He was at home so seldom, and when he was at home, he and Mrs. Chapman didn't want to bother with outsiders.
Very naturally."
"Do you know if Mrs. Chapman had any near relations or friends?"