"This is a serious matter, Mademoiselle," said the detective. "You realize how serious?"
"Certainly I do."
"That is well," said Poirot. "Then you understand, Mademoiselle, that no time must be lost. You will, perhaps accompany us immediately to the office of the Examining Magistrate."
Mirelle was taken aback. She hesitated, but, as Poirot had foreseen, she had no loophole for escape.
"Very well," she muttered. "I will fetch a coat."
Left alone together, Poirot and Knighton exchanged glances.
"It is necessary to act while—how do you say it?—the iron is hot," murmured Poirot. "She is temperamental ; in an hour's time, maybe, she will repent, and she will wish to draw back. We must prevent that at all costs."
Mirelle reappeared, wrapped in a sand-coloured velvet wrap trimmed with leopard skin. She looked not altogether unlike a leopardess, tawny and dangerous. Her eyes still flashed with anger and determination.
They found M. Caux and the Examining Magistrate together. A few brief introductory words from Poirot, and Mademoiselle Mirelle was courteously entreated to tell her tale. This she did in much the same words as she had done to Knighton and Poirot, though with far more soberness of manner.
"This is an extraordinary story, Mademoiselle," said M. Carrège slowly. He leant back in his chair, adjusted his pince-nez, and looked keenly and searchingly at the dancer through them.
