Agatha Christie. Murder on the Links

‘And the motive?’

‘Money of course. Remember that Jack Renauld thought that he would come into half his father’s fortune at the father’s death.’

‘But the tramp. Where does he come in?’

Poirot shrugged his shoulders. ‘Giraud would say that he was an accomplice—an apache who helped young Renauld to commit the crime, and who was conveniently put out of the way afterwards.’

‘But the hair round the dagger? The woman’s hair?’

‘Ah!’ said Poirot, smiling broadly. ‘That is the cream of Giraud’s little jest. According to it is not a woman’s hair at all. Remember that the youths of today wear their hair brushed straight back from the forehead with pomade or hair wash to make it lie flat. Consequently some of the hairs are of considerable length.’

‘And you believe that too?’

‘No,’ said Poirot, with a curious smile. ‘For I know it to be the hair of a woman—and more, which woman!’

‘Madame Daubreuil,’ I announced positively.

‘Perhaps,’ said Poirot regarding me quizzically. But I refused to allow myself to get annoyed.

‘What are we going to do now?’ I asked, as we entered the hall of the Villa Genevieve.

‘I wish to make a search among the effects of M. Jack Renauld. That is why I had to get him out of the way for a few hours.’

Neatly and methodically, Poirot opened each drawer in turn, examined the contents, and returned them exactly to their places. It was a singularly dull and uninteresting proceeding.

Poirot waded on through collars, pyjamas, and socks. A purring noise outside drew me to the window.

Instantly I became galvanized into life.

‘Poirot!’ I cried. ‘A car has just driven up. Giraud is in it, and Jack Renauld, and two gendarmes.’

‘Sacre tonnerre!’ growled Poirot. ‘That animal of a Giraud, could he not wait? I shall not be able to replace the things in this last drawer with the proper method. Let us be quick.’

Unceremoniously he tumbled out the things on the floor, mostly ties and handkerchiefs. Suddenly with a of triumph Poirot pounced on something, a small square of cardboard, evidently a photograph. Thrusting it into his pocket, he returned the things pell-mell to the drawer, and seizing me by the arm dragged me out of the room and down the stairs. In the hall stood Giraud, contemplating his prisoner.

‘Good afternoon, Monsieur Giraud,’ said Poirot. ‘What have we here?’

Giraud nodded his head towards Jack. ‘He was trying to make a getaway, but I was too sharp for him. He’s under arrest for the murder of his father, Monsieur Paul Renauld.’

Poirot wheeled round to confront the boy, who was leaning limply against the door, his face ashy pale.

‘What do you say to that, jeune homme?’

Jack Renauld stared at him stonily. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

CHAPTER 19

I USE MY GREY CELLS

I WAS dumbfounded. Up to the last, I had not been able to bring myself to believe Jack Renauld guilty. I had expected a ringing proclamation of his innocence when Poirot challenged him. But now, watching him as he stood, white and limp against the wall, and hearing the damning admission fall from his lips, I doubted no longer.

But Poirot had turned to Giraud.

‘What are your grounds for arresting him?’

‘Do you expect me to give them to you?’

‘As a matter of courtesy, yes.’

Giraud looked at him doubtfully. He was torn between a desire to refuse rudely and the pleasure of triumphing over his adversary.

‘You think I have made a mistake, I suppose?’ he sneered.

‘It would not surprise me,’ replied Poirot, with a scowl. One of malice.

Giraud’s face took on a deeper tinge of red.

‘Eh bien, come in here. You shall judge for yourself.’

He flung open the door of the salon, and we passed in, leaving Jack Renauld in the care of the two other men.

‘Now, Monsieur Poirot,’ said Giraud, lying his hat on the table, and speaking with the utmost sarcasm, ‘I will treat you to a little lecture on detective work. I will show how we moderns work.’

‘Bien!’ said Poirot, composing himself to listen. ‘I will show you how admirably the Old Guard can listen.’ And he leaned back and closed his eyes, opening them for a moment to remark: ‘Do not fear that I shall sleep. I will attend most carefully.’

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