In a moment Poirot had leapt from the car, his eyes blazing with
excitement. He caught the man by the shoulder.
“What is that you say? Murdered? When? How?”
The _sergent de ville___ drew himself up.
“I cannot answer any questions, monsieur.”
“True. I comprehend.” Poirot reflected for a minute. “The Commissary of
Police, he is without doubt within?”
“Yes, monsieur.”
Poirot took out a card, and scribbled a few words on it.
“_Voilà!___ Will you have the goodness to see that this card is sent in
to the commissary at once?”
The man took it and, turning his head over his shoulder, whistled. In a
few seconds a comrade joined him and was handed Poirot’s message. There
was a wait of some minutes, and then a short stout man with a huge
moustache came bustling down to the gate. The _sergent de ville___
saluted and stood aside.
“My dear M. Poirot,” cried the new-comer, “I am delighted to see you.
Your arrival is most opportune.”
Poirot’s face had lighted up.
“M. Bex! This is indeed a pleasure.” He turned to me. “This is an
English friend of mine, Captain Hastings—M. Lucien Bex.”
The commissary and I bowed to each other ceremoniously, then M. Bex
turned once more to Poirot.
“_Mon vieux___, I have not seen you since 1909, that time in Ostend. I
heard that you had left the Force?”
“So I have. I run a private business in London.”
“And you say you have information to give which may assist us?”
“Possibly you know it already. You were aware that I had been sent
for?”
“No. By whom?”
“The dead man. It seems he knew an attempt was going to be made on his
life. Unfortunately he sent for me too late.”
“_Sacri tonnerre!___” ejaculated the Frenchman. “So he foresaw his own
murder? That upsets our theories considerably! But come inside.”
He held the gate open, and we commenced walking towards the house. M.
Bex continued to talk:
“The examining magistrate, M. Hautet, must hear of this at once. He has
just finished examining the scene of the crime and is about to begin
his interrogations. A charming man. You will like him. Most
sympathetic. Original in his methods, but an excellent judge.”
“When was the crime committed?” asked Poirot.
“The body was discovered this morning about nine o’clock. Madame
Renauld’s evidence, and that of the doctors goes to show that the death
must have occurred about 2 a.m. But enter, I pray of you.”
We had arrived at the steps which led up to the front door of the
Villa. In the hall another _sergent de ville___ was sitting. He rose at
sight of the commissary.
“Where is M. Hautet now?” inquired the latter.
“In the _salon___, monsieur.”
M. Bex opened a door to the left of the hall, and we passed in. M.
Hautet and his clerk were sitting at a big round table. They looked up
as we entered. The commissary introduced us, and explained our
presence.
M. Hautet, the Juge d’Instruction, was a tall, gaunt man, with piercing
dark eyes, and a neatly cut grey beard, which he had a habit of
caressing as he talked. Standing by the mantelpiece was an elderly man,
with slightly stooping shoulders, who was introduced to us as Dr.
Durand.
“Most extraordinary,” remarked M. Hautet, as the commissary finished
speaking. “You have the letter here, monsieur?”
Poirot handed it to him, and the magistrate read it.
“H’m. He speaks of a secret. What a pity he was not more explicit. We
are much indebted to you, M. Poirot. I hope you will do us the honour
of assisting us in our investigations. Or are you obliged to return to
London?”
“M. le juge, I propose to remain. I did not arrive in time to prevent
my client’s death, but I feel myself bound in honour to discover the
assassin.”
The magistrate bowed.
“These sentiments do you honour. Also, without doubt, Madame Renauld
will wish to retain your services. We are expecting M. Giraud from the
Sûreté in Paris any moment, and I am sure that you and he will be able
to give each other mutual assistance in your investigations. In the
meantime, I hope that you will do me the honour to be present at my
interrogations, and I need hardly say that if there is any assistance
you require it is at your disposal.”
“I thank you, monsieur. You will comprehend that at present I am
completely in the dark. I know nothing whatever.”