“Because we know now that the assassin, or an accomplice of the assassin, has been near the villa only an hour ago. It will be strange if, with that knowledge, we do not shortly lay hands upon him.” There was a note of menace in his voice. He continued: “He risked a good deal to gain possession of that dagger. Perhaps he feared that fingerprints might be discovered on it.”
Poirot turned to Bex.
“You said there were none?”
Giraud shrugged his shoulders.
“Perhaps he could not be sure.”
Poirot locked at him. “You are wrong, M. Giraud. The assassin wore gloves. So he must have been sure.”
“I do not say it was the assassin himself. It may have been an accomplice who was not aware of that fact.”
“Ils sont mal renseignés, les accomplices!” muttered Poirot, but he said no more.
The magistrate’s clerk was gathering up the papers on the table. M. Hautet addressed us:
“Our work here is finished. Perhaps, M. Renauld, you will listen while your evidence is read over to you. I have purposely kept all the proceedings as informal as possible. I have been called original in my methods, but I maintain that there is much to be said for originality. The case is now in the clever hands of the renowned M. Giraud. He will without doubt distinguish himself. Indeed, I wonder that he has not already laid. his hands upon the murderers! Madame, again let me assure you of my heartfelt sympathy. Messieurs, I wish you all good day.”
Accompanied by his clerk and the commissary, he took his departure.
Poirot tugged out that large turnip of a watch of his, and observed the time.
“Let us return to the hotel for lunch, my friend,” he said. “And you shall recount to me in full the indiscretions of this morning. No one is observing us. We need make no adieux.”
We went quietly out of the room. The examining magistrate
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