"But I am not in a hurry to find Miss Samushenka," said Poirot. "Is it?" "Yes, I want to inquire about her maid." "Her maid?" Sandfield stared at him. Poirot said, "Perhaps you remember her maid?" Sandfield looked ill at ease again and said awkwardly, "Good Lord, how could I?"? Of course, I remember she did have a.. I have to say, is a cheap girl, thieving, if I were you, I would never believe a word that girl said. She is the kind of girl who is born to lie. "So you remember a lot about her?" Poirot whispered. "Just a little impression, that's all," Sandfield said hurriedly. I don't even remember her name. Let me see. Mary or some other name-no, I'm afraid I can't help you find her. I'm so sorry. Poirot said softly, "I have got the name of Mary Helin from the Teatro Diesbian — and her address.". But I'm talking about Sir George,
Mirror Stainless Steel Sheet, the lady in waiting on Miss Samushenka before Mary Helin. I'm talking about Miss Nita Valletta. I don't remember her at all. The only one I remember was Mary, a shifty-eyed dark-haired girl. "I mean the girl who went to your lawn villa last June," said Poirot. Sandfield said angrily: I can only say that I don't remember her. I don't remember her bringing a maid with her. I think you are mistaken. Hercule shook his head, convinced that he was not mistaken. 5 Mary Helin glanced at Poirot with her shrewd little eyes and looked away quickly. "Sir," she said in a firm voice,
304 Stainless Steel Flat Steel, "I remember very well that Miss Samushenka hired me in the last week of June last year. Her old maid suddenly left. "Did you hear why the maid left?" She was gone all of a sudden — I knew it! Or it could be an illness-something like that. Miss didn't mention it. "Do you think your mistress is easy to get along with?" Said Poirot. The girl shrugged. "She's unstable. She cries and laughs.". Sometimes she was so depressed that she neither spoke nor ate. Sometimes they are crazy with joy. That's what happens to all those dancing women. This is their temper. "And Sir George?" The girl looked up alertly, with a look of disgust in her eyes. Oh, Sir George Sandfield? Do you want to know about him? Perhaps you really want to inquire about him? The maid mentioned just now is just an excuse, isn't it? 'Well, Sir George, I could tell you something strange about him. I can tell you -- Poirot interrupted her. "There's no need." She stared at him, her mouth wide open, her eyes showing disappointment and anger. 6 "I always say you know everything, Alexis Barfrovich." Said Hercule Poirot in the most flattering tone. He thought to himself that what he was doing, like Hercule's third feat, really needed more travel and talks than he could imagine. The disappearance of a maid was proving to be one of the longest and most troublesome cases he had ever taken on. Every clue,
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Stainless Steel Industrial Sheet, once checked, is fruitlessly broken. That night, the case led him to the Samoir restaurant in Paris, where the owner, Count Alexis Barfrovich, boasted that he knew everything that happened in the world of literature and art. He nodded triumphantly. "Yes, yes, I know-I always know everything.". Where, you ask me, has she gone-that little Samushenka, that beautiful dancer? Oh, she's really something, the little one. He kissed the tips of his fingers. "It's a fire-how free and easy!"! She was supposed to be very promising — she was supposed to be the prima ballerina of her generation — but suddenly there was a break — she slipped away — to the end of the world — alas! People will soon forget her. "And where is she now?" Asked Poirot. In Switzerland. In the Alps, in Vagra.
Those who have a dry cough and are getting thinner and thinner go there to recuperate. She's dying, yes, she's dying! She has a fatalistic nature. She must be dying. Poirot interrupted with a cough. He just wants information. You remember, perhaps, that she had a maid? A handmaiden named Nita Valletta? Valletta? Valletta? I remember seeing a lady-in-waiting once-at the railway station, where I was taking Katerina to London. She's from Pisa, Italy, isn't she? Well, I'm sure she's Italian, from Pisa. Hercule snorted. "So," he said, "I have to go to pizza now." 7 Hercule Poirot stood in the cemetery of Santo, Pisa, looking down at a grave. So that was the end of his search-under this simple little mound, there rested a once happy person who had stirred the heart of an ordinary, young English mechanic. This may be the best ending to that sudden and strange love affair. Now the girl would remain in the young man's memory forever the image he had seen of her in the enchanting hours of that June afternoon. The conflict of different nationalities, the friction of different standards, and the pain of disillusionment are all eliminated forever. Hercule Poirot shook his head mournfully. He recalled his conversation with the Valletta family. The mother with the broad face of a countryman, the father who was extremely sad and upright, the sister who was stubborn and had black hair. It was sudden, sir. Very suddenly. Although she felt pain from time to time over the years. The doctor left us no choice-he said we had to have an operation to remove our appendix at once. He took her to the hospital at that time. Yeah,
Stainless Steel Welded Pipe, yeah, she just died on the anesthetic and didn't wake up at all. The mother sighed and murmured, "Bianca has always been such a clever girl.". It's sad that she died so young. 。
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