5. The Evidence of the Swedish Lady

           M.BoucwashandlingthebuttonMrs.Hubbardhadleftbehindher.

           “Thisbutton.Icannotunderstandit.Doesitmeanthat,afterall,PierreMichelisinvolvedinsomeway?”hesaid.Hepaused,thencontinued,asPoirotdidnotreply.“Whathaveyoutosay,myfriend?”

           “Thatbutton,itsuggestspossibilities,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“LetusinterviewnexttheSwedishladybeforewediscusstheevidencewehaveheard.”

           Hesortedthroughthepileofpassportsinfrontofhim.

           “Ah!hereweare.GretaOhlsson,ageforty-nine.”M.Boucgavedirectionstotherestaurantattendant,andpresentlytheladywiththeyellowish-greybunofhairandthelongmildsheep-likefacewasusheredin.ShepeeredshortsightedlyatPoirotthroughherglasses,butwasquitecalm.

           IttranspiredthatsheunderstoodandspokeFrench,sothattheconversationtookplaceinthatlanguage.Poirotfirstaskedherthequestionstowhichhealreadyknewtheanswers—hername,age,andaddress.Hethenaskedherheroccupation.

           Shewas,shetoldhim,matroninamissionaryschoolnearStamboul.Shewasatrainednurse.

           “Youknow,ofcourse,ofwhattookplacelastnight,Mademoiselle?”

           “Naturally.Itisverydreadful.AndtheAmericanladytellsmethatthemurdererwasactuallyinhercompartment.”

           “Ihear,Mademoiselle,thatyouwerethelastpersontoseethemurderedmanalive?”

           “Idonotknow.Itmaybeso.Iopenedthedoorofhiscompartmentbymistake.Iwasmuchashamed.Itwasamostawkwardmistake.”

           “Youactuallysawhim?”

           “Yes.Hewasreadingabook.Iapologizedquicklyandwithdrew.