“How, then, was the man killed?”
“He was not killed. He died. He died, M. le juge, if I am not much
mistaken, of an epileptic fit!”
This statement of Poirot’s again aroused considerable excitement. Dr.
Durand knelt down again, and made a searching examination. At last he
rose to his feet.
“Well, M. le docteur?”
“M. Poirot, I am inclined to believe that you are correct in your
assertion. I was misled to begin with. The incontrovertible fact that
the man had been stabbed distracted my attention from any other
indications.”
Poirot was the hero of the hour. The examining magistrate was profuse
in compliments. Poirot responded gracefully, and then excused himself
on the pretext that neither he nor I had yet lunched, and that he
wished to repair the ravages of the journey. As we were about to leave
the shed, Giraud approached us.
“One more thing, M. Poirot,” he said, in his suave mocking voice. “We
found this coiled round the handle of the dagger. A woman’s hair.”
“Ah!” said Poirot. “A woman’s hair? What woman’s, I wonder?”
“I wonder also,” said Giraud. Then, with a bow, he left us.
“He was insistent, the good Giraud,” said Poirot thoughtfully, as we
walked towards the hotel. “I wonder in what direction he hopes to
mislead me? A woman’s hair—h’m!”
We lunched heartily, but I found Poirot somewhat distrait and
inattentive. Afterwards we went up to our sitting-room and there I
begged him to tell me something of his mysterious journey to Paris.
“Willingly, my friend. I went to Paris to find _this___.”
He took from his pocket a small faded newspaper cutting. It was the
reproduction of a woman’s photograph. He handed it to me. I uttered an
exclamation.
“You recognize it, my friend?”
I nodded. Although the photo obviously dated from very many years back,
and the hair was dressed in a different style, the likeness was
unmistakable.
“Madame Daubreuil!” I exclaimed.
Poirot shook his head with a smile.
“Not quite correct, my friend. She did not call herself by that name in
those days. That is a picture of the notorious Madame Beroldy!”
Madame Beroldy! In a flash the whole thing came back to me. The murder
trial that had evoked such world-wide interest.
_The Beroldy Case.___