III
Mrs. Merton of No. 82, King Leopold Mansions¹ had been designated by the porter as Mrs.
Chapman’s closest friend in the Mansions.
It was, therefore, to No. 82 that Japp and Poirot betook themselves next.
Mrs. Merton was a loquacious² 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 reassured³ her.
“Well, I’m sure I’m thankful to hear it! But the postman just now was all agog⁴ 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 we had spoken about going to see
the new Ginger⁶ 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

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