Poirot nodded,the asked if the dead woman lived over the shop. "Yes,sir,you go through that door at the back,sir.You'll excuse menot coming with you,but I've got to stay-"Poirot passed through the door inquestion and I followed him.Behind the shop was a microscopic sort ofparlour and kitchen combined-it was neat and clean but very dreary lookingand scantily furnished.On the mantelpiece were a few photographs.I went upand looked at them and Poirot joined me. The photographs were three in all.One was a cheap portrait of the girlwe had been with that afternoon,Mary Drower.She was obviously wearing herbest clothes and had the self-conscious
,wooden smile on her face that soofter disfigures the expression in posed photography,and makes a snapshotpreferable. The second was a more expensive type of picture-an artistically blurredreproduction of an elderly woman with white hair.A high fur collar stood upround the neck.
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