“_Please___—there’s a dear.”
I capitulated. Secretly, I knew that I should rather enjoy the part of
showman. After all, the moral attitude displayed by the girl was none
of my business. I was a little nervous as to what the examining
magistrate might say, but I reassured myself by the reflection that no
harm could possibly be done.
We repaired first to the spot where the body had been discovered. A man
was on guard there, who saluted respectfully, knowing me by sight, and
raised no question as to my companion. Presumably he regarded her as
vouched for by me. I explained to Cinderella just how the discovery had
been made, and she listened attentively, sometimes putting an
intelligent question. Then we turned our steps in the direction of the
Villa. I proceeded rather cautiously, for, truth to tell, I was not at
all anxious to meet any one. I took the girl through the shrubbery
round to the back of the house where the small shed was. I recollected
that yesterday evening, after relocking the door, M. Bex had left the
key with the _sergent de ville___ Marchaud, “in case M. Giraud should
require it while we are upstairs.” I thought it quite likely that the
Sûreté detective, after using it, had returned it to Marchaud again.
Leaving the girl out of sight in the shrubbery, I entered the house.
Marchaud was on duty outside the door of the _salon___. From within
came the murmur of voices.
“Monsieur desires Hautet? He is within. He is again interrogating
Françoise.”
“No,” I said hastily, “I don’t want him. But I should very much like
the key of the shed outside if it is not against regulations.”
“But certainly, monsieur.” He produced it. “Here it is. M. le juge gave
orders that all facilities were to be placed at your disposal. You will
return it to me when you have finished out there, that is all.”
“Of course.”
I felt a thrill of satisfaction as I realized that in Marchaud’s eyes,
at least, I ranked equally in importance with Poirot. The girl was
waiting for me. She gave an exclamation of delight as she saw the key
in my hand.
“You’ve got it then?”
“Of course,” I said coolly. “All the same, you know, what I’m doing is
highly irregular.”
“You’ve been a perfect duck, and I shan’t forget it. Come along. They
can’t see us from the house, can they?”
“Wait a minute.” I arrested her eager advance. “I won’t stop you if you
really wish to go in. But do you? You’ve seen the grave, and the
grounds, and you’ve heard all the details of the affair. Isn’t that
enough for you? This is going to be gruesome, you know,
and—unpleasant.”
She looked at me for a moment with an expression that I could not quite
fathom. Then she laughed.
“Me for the horrors,” she said. “Come along.”
In silence we arrived at the door of the shed. I opened it and we
passed in. I walked over to the body, and gently pulled down the sheet
as M. Bex had done the preceding afternoon. A little gasping sound
escaped from the girl’s lips, and I turned and looked at her. There was
horror on her face now, and those debonair high spirits of hers were
quenched utterly. She had not chosen to listen to my advice, and she
was punished now for her disregard of it. I felt singularly merciless
towards her. She should go through with it now. I turned the corpse
gently over.
“You see,” I said, “he was stabbed in the back.”
Her voice was almost soundless.
“With what?”