Detective and mystery stories; Poirot, Hercule (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
No, Bella must be protected. And, at the same time, Jack Renauld must
be saved. How this was to be accomplished I did not see clearly. But I
pinned my faith to Poirot. He knew. Come what might, he would manage to
save an innocent man. He must find some pretext other than the real
one. It might be difficult, but he would manage it somehow. And with
Bella unsuspected, and Jack Renauld acquitted, all would end
satisfactorily.
So I told myself repeatedly, but at the bottom of my heart there still
remained a cold fear.
24 “Save Him!”
We crossed from England by the evening boat, and the following morning
saw us in Saint-Omer, whither Jack Renauld had been taken. Poirot lost
no time in visiting M. Hautet. As he did not seem disposed to make any
objections to my accompanying him, I bore him company.
After various formalities and preliminaries, we were conducted to the
examining magistrate’s room. He greeted us cordially.
“I was told that you had returned to England, M. Poirot. I am glad to
find that such is not the case.”
“It is true that I went there, M. le juge, but it was only for a flying
visit. A side issue, but one that I fancied might repay investigation.”
“And it did—eh?”
Poirot shrugged his shoulders. M. Hautet nodded, sighing.
“We must resign ourselves, I fear. That animal Giraud, his manners are
abominable, but he is undoubtedly clever! Not much chance of that one
making a mistake.”
“You think not, M. le juge?”
It was the examining magistrate’s turn to shrug his shoulders.
“_Eh bien___, speaking frankly—in confidence, _c’est entendu___—can you
come to any other conclusion?”
“Frankly, M. le juge, there seem to me to be many points that are
obscure.”
“Such as—?”
But Poirot was not to be drawn.
“I have not yet tabulated them,” he remarked. “It was a general
reflection that I was making. I liked the young man, and should be
sorry to believe him guilty of such a hideous crime. By the way, what
has he to say for himself on the matter?”
The magistrate frowned.
“I cannot understand him. He seems incapable of putting up any sort of
defence. It has been most difficult to get him to answer questions. He
contents himself with a general denial, and beyond that takes refuge in
a most obstinate silence. I am interrogating him again tomorrow;
perhaps you would like to be present?”
We accepted the invitation with _empressement___.
“A distressing case,” said the magistrate with a sigh. “My sympathy for
Madame Renauld is profound.”
“How is Madame Renauld?”
“She has not yet recovered consciousness. It is merciful in a way, poor
woman, she is being spared much. The doctors say that there is no
danger, but that when she comes to herself she must be kept as quiet as
possible. It was, I understand, quite as much the shock as the fall
which caused her present state. It would be terrible if her brain
became unhinged; but I should not wonder at all—no, really, not at
all.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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