II
“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit down here and talk to you for a moment?”
Poirot, ensconced at a small table in the Blue Cat, looked up from the menu he was studyingwith a start. It was rather dark in the Blue Cat, which specialized¹ in an old-world effect of oak andleaded panes², but the young woman who had just sat down opposite to him stood out brightly fromher dark background.
She had determinedly³ golden hair, and was wearing an electric blue jumper suit. Moreover,Hercule Poirot was conscious of having noticed her somewhere only a short time previously⁴.
She went on:
“I couldn’t help, you see, hearing something of what you were saying to Mr. Scuttle⁵.”
Poirot nodded. He had realized that the partitions in the offices of Breather & Scuttle weremade for convenience rather than privacy. That had not worried him, since it was chiefly publicitythat he desired.
“You were typing,” he said, “to the right of the back window.”
She nodded. Her teeth shone white in an acquiescing⁶ smile. A very healthy young woman,with a full buxom⁷ figure that Poirot approved. About thirty-three or four, he judged, and by naturedark-haired, but not one to be dictated⁸ to by nature.
“About Mr. Bentley,” she said.
“What about Mr. Bentley?”
“Is he going to appeal? Does it mean that there’s new evidence? Oh, I’m so glad. I couldn’t—I just couldn’t believe he did it.”
Poirot’s eyebrows⁹ rose.
“So you never thought he did it,” he said slowly.
“Well, not at first. I thought it must be a mistake. But then the evidence—” She stopped.

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