Colonel Johnson said:
‘What about it, Sugden?’
The superintendent shook his head doubtfully. He said:
‘He’s afraid of something. I wonder why?…’
XI
Magdalene Lee paused effectively in the doorway. One long slender hand touched the burnished platinum sheen of her hair. The leaf-green velvet frock she wore clung to the delicate lines of her figure. She looked very young and a little frightened.
The three men were arrested for a moment looking at her. Johnson’s eyes showed a sudden surprised admiration. Superintendent Sugden’s showed no animation, merely the impatience of a man anxious to get on with his job. Hercule Poirot’s eyes were deeply appreciative (as she saw) but the appreciation was not for her beauty, but for the effective use she made of it. She did not know that he was thinking to himself:
‘Jolie mannequin, la petite. Mais elle a les yeux durs.’
Colonel Johnson was thinking:
‘Damned good-looking girl. George Lee will have trouble with her if he doesn’t look out. Got an eye for a man all right.’
Superintendent Sugden was thinking:
‘Empty-headed vain piece of goods. Hope we get through with her quickly.’
‘Will you sit down, Mrs Lee? Let me see, you are—?’
‘Mrs George Lee.’
She accepted the chair with a warm smile of thanks. ‘After all,’ the glance seemed to say, ‘although you are a man and a policeman, you are not so dreadful after all.’
The tail-end of the smile included Poirot. Foreigners were so susceptible where women were concerned. About Superintendent Sugden she did not bother.
She murmured, twisting her hands together in a pretty distress:
‘It’s all so terrible. I feel so frightened.’
‘Come, come, Mrs Lee,’ said Colonel Johnson kindly but briskly. ‘It’s been a shock, I know, but it’s all over now. We just want an account from you of what happened this evening.’
She cried out:
‘But I don’t know anything about it—I don’t indeed.’
For a moment the chief constable’s eyes narrowed. He said gently: ‘No, of course not.’
‘We only arrived here yesterday. George would make me come here for Christmas! I wish we hadn’t. I’m sure I shall never feel the same again!’
‘Very upsetting—yes.’
‘I hardly know George’s family, you see. I’ve only seen Mr Lee once or twice—at our wedding and once since. Of course I’ve seen Alfred and Lydia more often, but they’re really all quite strangers to me.’
Again the wide-eyed frightened-child look. Again Hercule Poirot’s eyes were appreciative—and again he thought to himself:
Elle joue très bien la comédie, cette petite…’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Colonel Johnson. ‘Now just tell me about the last time you saw your father-in-law—Mr Lee—alive.’
‘Oh, that! That was this afternoon. It was dreadful!’
Johnson said quickly: