shall see! In common fairness I gave him a hint. If he does not choose to act upon it, that is his own look out.”
I assured Poirot that he could rely upon my discretion.
“C’est bien! Let us then employ our little gray cells. Tell me, my friend, at what time, according to you, did the tragedy take place?”
“Why, at two o’clock or thereabouts,” I said, astonished. “You remember, Mrs. Renauld told us that she heard the clock strike while the men were in the room.”
“Exactly, and on the strength of that, you, the examining magistrate, Bex, and everyone else, accept the time without further question. But I, Hercule Poirot, say that Madame Renauld lied. The crime took place at least two hours earlier.”
“But the doctors—"
“They declared, after examination of the body, that death had taken place between ten and seven hours previously. Mon ami, for some reason, it was imperative that the crime should seem to have taken place later than it actually did. You have read of a smashed watch or clock recording the exact hour of a crime? So that the time should not rest on Mrs. Renauld’s testimony alone, someone moved on the hands of that wrist watch to two o’clock, and then dashed it violently to the ground. But, as is often the case, they defeated their own object. The glass was smashed, but the mechanism of the watch was uninjured. It was a most disastrous maneuver on their part, for it at once drew my attention to two points—first, that Madame Renauld was lying: second, that there must be some vital reason for the postponement of the time.”
“But what reason could there be?”
“Ah, that is the question! There we have the whole mystery. As yet, I cannot explain it. There is only one idea that presents itself to me as having a possible connection.”
“And that is?”
“The last train left Merlinville at seventeen minutes past twelve.”
I followed it out slowly.
“So that, the crime apparently taking place some two hours later, anyone leaving by that train would have an unimpeachable alibi!”
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