I did not hesitate. With a bound I reached him and pinioned his arms to his sides.
‘Quick,’ I said to the girl. ‘Get out of here. As fast as you can. I’ll hold him.’
With one look at me, she fled out of the room past us. I held Poirot in a grip of iron.
‘Mon ami,’ observed the latter mildly, ‘you do this sort of thing very well. The strong man holds me in his grasp and I am helpless as a child. But all this is uncomfortable and slightly ridiculous. Let us sit down and be calm.’
‘You won’t pursue her?’
‘Mon Dieu, no. Am I Giraud? Release me, my friend.’
Keeping a suspicious eye upon him, for I paid Poirot the compliment of knowing that I was no match for him in astuteness, I relaxed my grip, and he sank into an armchair, feeling his arms tenderly.
‘It is that you have the strength of a bull when you are roused, Hastings! Eh bien, and do you think you have behaved well to your old friend? I show you the girl’s photograph and you recognize it, but you never say a word.’
‘There was no need if you knew that I recognized it,’ I said rather bitterly. So Poirot had known all along! I had not deceived him for an instant.
‘Ta-ta-ta! You did not know that I knew that. And tonight you help the girl to escape when we have found her with so much trouble. Eh bien, it comes to this—are you going to work with me or against me, Hastings?’
For a moment or two I did not answer. To break with my old friend gave me great pain. Yet I must definitely range myself against him. Would he ever forgive me, I wondered? He had been strangely calm so far but I knew him to possess marvellous self-command.
‘Poirot,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry. I admit I’ve behaved badly to you over this. But sometimes one has no choice. And in future I must take my own line.’
Poirot nodded his head several times. ‘I understand,’ he said. The mocking light had quite died out of his eyes, and he spoke with a sincerity and kindness that surprised me. ‘It is that my friend is it not? It is love that has come—not as you imagined it, all cock-a-hoop with fine feathers, but sadly, with bleeding feet. Well, well I warned you. When I realized that this girl must have taken the dagger, I warned you. Perhaps you remember. But already it was too late. But, tell me, how much do you know?’
I met his eyes squarely.
‘Nothing that you could tell me would be any surprise to me, Poirot. Understand that. But in case you think of resuming your search for Miss Duveen, I should like you to know one thing clearly: If you have any idea that she was concerned in this crime, or was the mysterious lady who called upon Mr. Renauld that night, you are wrong. I travelled home from France with her that day, and parted from her at Victoria that evening, so that it is clearly impossible for her to have been in Merlinville.’
‘Ah!’ Poirot looked at me thoughtfully. ‘And you would swear to that in a court of law?’
‘Most certainly I would.’
Poirot rose and bowed. ‘Mon ami, c’est l’amour. It can perform miracles. It is decidedly ingenious what you have thought of there. It defeats even Hercule Poirot!’
CHAPTER 23
DIFFICULTIES AHEAD
AFTER a moment of stress, such as I have just described, reaction is bound to set in. I retired to rest that night on a note of triumph, but I awoke to realize that I was by no means out of the wood. True, I could see no flaw in the alibi I had so suddenly conceived. I had but to stick to my story, and I failed to see how Bella could be convicted in face of it.
But I felt the need of treading warily. Poirot would not take defeat lying down. Somehow or other, he would endeavour to turn the tables on me, and that in the way, and at the moment, when I least expected it.