"Into the next apartment, I believe," said the inspector. "It's bolted, anyway, on this side."
Poirot walked across to it, tried it, then drew back the bolt and tried it again.
"And on the other side as well," he remarked. "Well, that seems to rule out that."
He walked over to the windows, examining each of them in turn.
"And again—nothing. Not even a balcony outside."
"Even if there were," said the inspector impatiently, "I don't see how that would help us, if the maid never left the room."
"Évidemment," said Poirot, not disconcerted. "As Mademoiselle is positive she did not leave the room———"
He was interrupted by the reappearance of the chambermaid and the police searcher.
"Nothing," said the latter laconically.
"I should hope not, indeed," said the chambermaid virtuously. "And that French hussy ought to be ashamed of herself taking away an honest girl's character!"
"There, there, my girl; that's all right," said the inspector, opening the door. "Nobody sus-
