"Deduce, Poirot, from the following clues! We have a young lady dressed in expensive clothes… fashionable hat, gorgeous fur coat. She is coming towards us slowly, lifting her head and looking up at the houses. Unknowingly, she is being followed by three men and a middle-aged woman. Now, a boy for errands has also joined, pointing at her and making gestures. What drama is unfolding before us? Is the girl a con artist and those following her secret police ready to arrest her? Or are they criminals planning to attack an innocent victim? What does the great investigator say?"
"The great investigator, mon ami, always chooses the simplest path. He gets up to see for himself what is happening." And so my friend came to the window beside me. After a minute, he burst into laughter. "As usual, your clues are distorted by your incurable romanticism. This is Miss Mary Marvel, the movie star. She is being followed by a crowd of admirers who recognized her. And, en passant, my dear Hastings, she knows this very well!" I laughed.
"So everything is explained! But you don't get points for that, Poirot. You just knew her and recognized her." "En vérité! And how many times have you seen Mary Marvel on the big screen, mon cher?" I thought. "Maybe about ten times." "And I... once! Nevertheless, I recognized her, while you did not." "She looks so different up close," I replied somewhat hesitantly. "Ah! Sacré!" exclaimed Poirot. "What did you expect? To be wandering the streets of London with a cowboy hat or barefoot and with curly hair like an Irish country girl? You always see the trivial!"