"Depends on what it is," replied the police officer non-committally.
Poirot addressed Célestine once more.
"You have told us that you went into your room to fetch a reel of cotton. Whereabouts was it?"
"On the top of the chest of drawers, monsieur."
"And the scissors?"
"They also."
"Would it be troubling you too much, mademoiselle, to ask you to repeat those two actions? You were sitting here with your work, you say?"
Célestine sat down, and then, at a sign from Poirot, rose, passed into the adjoining room, took up an object from the chest of drawers, and returned.
Poirot divided his attention between her movements and a large turnip of a watch which he held in the palm of his hand.
"Again, if you please, mademoiselle."
At the conclusion of the second performance, he made a note in his pocket-book, and returned the watch to his pocket.
"Thank you, mademoiselle. And you, mon-
