“But how? Why? How can you possibly know?”
“Because only in that way can the sequence of events be logically
explained. _Mon ami___, I have taken you step by step along the way. Do
you not now see what is so glaringly plain?”
“My dear Poirot, I can’t see anything glaring about it. I did think I
was beginning to see my way before, but I’m now hopelessly fogged.”
Poirot looked at me sadly, and shook his head. “_Mon Dieu!___ But it is
_triste!___ A good intelligence—and so deplorably lacking in method.
There is an exercise most excellent for the development of the little
grey cells. I will impart it to you—”
“For Heaven’s sake, not now! You really are the most irritating of
fellows, Poirot. For goodness’ sake, get on and tell me who killed M.
Renauld.”
“That is just what I am not sure of as yet.”
“But you said it was glaringly clear?”
“We talk at cross-purposes, my friend. Remember, it is two crimes we
are investigating—for which, as I pointed out to you, we have the
necessary two bodies. There, there, _ne vous impatientez pas!___ I
explain all. To begin with, we apply our psychology. We find three
points at which M. Renauld displays a distinct change of view and
action—three psychological points therefore. The first occurs
immediately after arriving in Merlinville, the second after quarrelling
with his son on a certain subject, the third on the morning of June
7th. Now for the three causes. We can attribute No. 1 to meeting Madame
Daubreuil. No. 2 is indirectly connected with her since it concerns a
marriage between M. Renauld’s son and her daughter. But the cause of
No. 3 is hidden from us. We have to deduce it. Now, _mon ami___, let me
ask you a question; who do we believe to have planned this crime?”
“Georges Conneau,” I said doubtfully, eyeing Poirot warily.
“Exactly. Now Giraud laid it down as an axiom that a woman lies to save
herself, the man she loves, and her child. Since we are satisfied that
was Georges Conneau who dictated the lie to her, and as Georges Conneau
is not Jack Renauld, follows that the third case is put out of court.
And, still attributing the crime to Georges Conneau, the first is
equally so. So we are forced to the second—that Madame Renauld lied for
the sake of the man she loved—or in other words, for the sake of
Georges Conneau. You agree to that.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “It seems logical enough.”
“_Bien!___ Madame Renauld loves Georges Conneau. Who, then, is Georges
Conneau?”
“The tramp.”
“Have we any evidence to show that Madame Renauld loved the tramp?”
“No, but—”
“Very well then. Do not cling to theories where facts no longer support
them. Ask yourself instead who Madame Renauld _did___ love.”