Chapter 4
　　Sarah King looked long and searchingly at Hercule Poirot. She noted¹ the egg-shaped head, thegigantic moustaches, the dandified appearance and the suspicious blackness of his hair. A look ofdoubt crept into her eyes. ‘Well, mademoiselle, are you satisfied?’
　　Sarah flushed as she met the amused ironical² glance of his eyes.
　　‘I beg your pardon,’ she said awkwardly.
　　‘Du tout³! To use an expression I have recently learnt, you give me the once-over, is it not so?’
　　Sarah smiled a little. ‘Well, at any rate, you can do the same to me,’ she said.
　　‘Assuredly. I have not neglected to do so.’
　　She glanced at him sharply. Something in his tone. But Poirot was twirling his moustachescomplacently, and Sarah thought (for the second time), ‘The man’s a mountebank⁴!’
　　Her self-confidence restored, she sat up a little straighter and said inquiringly: ‘I don’t think Iquite understand the object of this interview?’
　　‘The good Dr Gerard did not explain?’
　　Sarah said frowning: ‘I don’t understand Dr Gerard. He seems to think—’
　　‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,’ quoted Poirot. ‘You see, I know yourShakespeare.’
　　Sarah waved aside Shakespeare.
　　‘What exactly is all this fuss about?’ she demanded.
　　‘Eh bien, one wants, does one not, to get at the truth of this affair?’
　　‘Are you talking about Mrs Boynton’s death?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Isn’t it rather a fuss about nothing? You, of course, are a specialist, M. Poirot. It is natural foryou—’
　　Poirot finished the sentence for her.
　　‘It is natural for me to suspect crime whenever I can possibly find an excuse for doing so?’
　　‘Well—yes—perhaps.’
　　‘You have no doubt yourself as to Mrs Boynton’s death?’
　　Sarah shrugged⁵ her shoulders.
　　‘Really, M. Poirot, if you had been to Petra you would realize that the journey there was asomewhat

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