"Eh?" said the Commissary.
"The psychology is at fault. The Comte is a scoundrel--yes. The Comte
is a swindler--yes. The Comte preys upon women--yes. He proposes to
steal Madame's jewels--again yes. Is he the kind of man to commit
murder? I say _no_! A man of the type of the Comte is always a coward;
he takes no risks. He plays the safe, the mean, what the English call
the low-down game; but murder, a hundred times no!" He shook his head
in a dissatisfied manner.
The Examining Magistrate, however, did not seem disposed to agree with
him.
"The day always comes when such gentry lose their heads and go too
far," he observed sagely. "Doubtless that is the case here. Without
wishing to disagree with you, M. Poirot--"
"It was only an opinion," Poirot hastened to explain. "The case is, of
course, in your hands, and you will do what seems fit to you."
"I am satisfied in my own mind that the Comte de la Roche is the man we
need to get hold of," said M. Carrège. "You agree with me, Monsieur le
Commissaire?"
"Perfectly."
"And you, M. Van Aldin?"
"Yes," said the millionaire. "Yes; the man is a thorough-paced villain,
no doubt about it."
"It will be difficult to lay hands on him, I am afraid," said the
Magistrate, "but we will do our best. Telegraphed instructions shall go
out at once."
"Permit me to assist you," said Poirot. "There need be no difficulty."
"Eh?"
The others stared at him. The little man smiled beamingly back at them.
"It is my business to know things," he explained. "The Comte is a man
of intelligence. He is at present at a villa he has leased, the Villa
Marina at Antibes."