Murder on the Links

'And without doubt we are not original in the idea Hastings. The excellent Giraud, he also has probably made the same inquiries.'

'You don't think-' I said and then stopped. 'Ah no, it would be too horrible!'

Poirot looked inquiringly at me, but I said no more. It had just occurred to me that though there were seven men, directly and indirectly connected with the case-Mrs. Renauld, Madame Daubreuil and her daughter, the mysterious visitor and the three servants-there was, with the exception of old Auguste, who could hardly count, only one man-Jack Renauld.

I had no time to develop farther the appalling idea that had occurred to me, for Jack Renauld was ushered into the room.

Poirot greeted him in a businesslike manner.

'Take a seat monsieur. I regret infinitely to derange you, but you will perhaps understand that the atmosphere of the villa is not too congenial to me. Monsieur Giraud and I do not see eye to eye about everything. His politeness to me has not been striking, and you will comprehend that I do not intend any little discoveries I may make to benefit him in any way.'

'Exactly, Monsieur Poirot,' said the lad. 'That fellow Giraud is an unconditioned brute, and I'd be delighted to see someone score at his expense.'

'Then I may ask a little favour of you?'

'Certainly.'

'I will ask you to go to the railway station and take a train to the next station along the line, Abbalac. Ask at the cloakroom whether two foreigners deposited a valise there on the night of the murder, it is a small station, and they are almost certain to remember. Will you do this?'

'Of course I will.' said the boy mystified though ready for the task.

'I and my friend you comprehend have business elsewhere,' explained Poirot. 'There is a train in a quarter of an hour, and I will ask you not to return to the villa as I have no wish for Giraud to get an inkling of your errand.'

'Very well, I will go straight to the station.'

He rose to his feet. Poirot's voice stopped him: 'One moment, Monsieur Renauld there is one little matter that puzzles me. Why did you not mention to Monsieur Hautet this morning that you were in Merlinville on the night of the crime?'

Jack Renauld's face went crimson. With an effort he controlled himself.

'You have made a mistake. I was in Cherbourg as I told the examining magistrate this morning.'

Poirot looked at him, his eyes narrowed cat-like until they only showed a gleam of green.

'Then it is a singular mistake that I have made there-for it is shared by the station staff. They say you arrived by the [????] train.'

For a moment Jack Renauld hesitated, then he made up his mind.

'And if I did? I suppose you do not mean to accuse me of participating in my father's murder?' He asked the question haughtily, his head thrown back.

'I should like an explanation of the reason that brought you here.'

'That is simple enough. I came to see my fiancee, Mademoiselle Daubreuil. I was on the eve of a long voyage, uncertain as to when I should return. I wished to see her before I went, to assure her of my unchanging devotion.'

'And did you see her?' Poirot's eyes never left the other's face.

There was an appreciable pause before Renauld replied. Then he said: 'Yes.'

'And afterwards?'

'I found I had missed the last train. I walked to St. Beauvais, where I knocked up a garage and got a car to take me back to Cherbourg.'

'St. Beauvais? That is fourteen kilometres. A long walk M. Renauld.'

'I-I felt like walking.'

Poirot bowed his head as a sign that he accepted the explanation. Jack Renauld took up his hat and cane and departed.

In a trice Poirot jumped to his feet.

'Quick, Hastings. We will go after him.'

Keeping a discreet distance behind our quarry, we followed him through the streets of Merlinville. But when Poirot saw that he took the turning to the station he checked himself.

'All is well. He has taken the bait. He will go to Abbalac, and will inquire for the mythical valise left by the mythical foreigners. Yes, mon ami, all that was a little invention of mine.'

'You wanted him out of the way!' I exclaimed.

'Your penetration is amazing, Hastings! Now, if you please, we will go up to the Villa Genevieve.'

Chapter 18. Giraud Acts

Once at the villa Poirot led the way up to the shed where the second body had been discovered. He did not, however, go in, but paused by the bench which I have mentioned before as being set some few yards away from it.

After contemplating it for a moment or two, he paced carefully from it to the hedge which marked the boundary between the Villa Genevieve and the Villa Marguerite. Then he paced back again, nodding his head as he did so. Returning again to the hedge, he parted the bushes with his hands.

'With good fortune,' he remarked to me over his shoulder, 'Mademoiselle Marthe may find herself in the garden. I desire to speak to her and would prefer not to call formally at the Villa Marguerite. Ah, all is well, there she is. Pst, Mademoiselle! Pst! Un moment, voila.'