Murder on the Links - Agatha Christie [57]
Poirot nodded.
“Précisément! We can return to this point later. For the moment let us content ourselves with accepting the letter as having nothing to do with Monsieur Renauld père, and pass to the next chronological event.”
“‘23rd May.’” I read: “‘M. Renauld quarrels with his son over latter’s wish to marry Marthe Daubreuil. Son leaves for Paris.’ I don’t see anything much to remark upon there, and the altering of the will the following day seems straightforward enough. It was the direct result of the quarrel.”
“We agree, mon ami—at least as to the cause. But what exact motive underlay this procedure of Monsieur Renauld’s?”
I opened my eyes in surprise.
“Anger against his son of course.”
“Yet he wrote him affectionate letters to Paris?”
“So Jack Renauld says, but he cannot produce them.”
“Well, let us pass from that.”
“Now we come to the day of the tragedy. You have placed the events of the morning in a certain order. Have you any justification for that?”
“I have ascertained that the letter to me was posted at the same time as the telegram was dispatched. Masters was informed he could take a holiday shortly afterwards. In my opinion the quarrel with the tramp took place anterior to these happenings.”
“I do not see that you can fix that definitely unless you question Madame Daubreuil again.”
“There is no need. I am sure of it. And if you do not see that, you see nothing, Hastings!”
I looked at him for a moment.
“Of course! I am an idiot. If the tramp was Georges Conneau, it was after the stormy interview with him that Mr. Renauld apprehended danger. He sent away the chauffeur, Masters, whom he suspected of being in the other’s pay, he wired to his son, and sent for you.”
A faint smile crossed Poirot’s lips.
“You do not think it strange that he should use exactly the same expressions in his letter as Madame Renauld used, later in her story? If the mention of Santiago was a blind, why should Renauld speak of it, and—what is more—send his son there?”
“It is puzzling, I admit, but perhaps we shall find some explanation later. We come now to the evening, and the visit of the mysterious lady. I confess that that fairly baffles me, unless it was indeed Madame Daubreuil, as Françoise all along maintained.”
Poirot shook his head.
“My friend, my friend, where are your wits wandering? Remember the fragment of cheque, and the fact that the name Bella Duveen was faintly familiar to Stonor, and I think we may take it for granted that Bella Duveen is the full name of Jack’s unknown correspondent, and that it was she who came to the Villa Geneviève that night. Whether she intended to see Jack, or whether she meant all along to appeal to his father, we cannot be certain, but I think we may assume that this is what occurred. She produced her claim upon Jack, probably showed letters that he had written her, and the older man tried to buy her off by writing a cheque. This she indignantly tore up. The terms of her letter are those of a woman genuinely in love, and she would probably deeply resent being offered money. In the end he got rid of her, and here the words that he used are significant.”
“‘Yes, yes, but for God’s sake go now,’” I repeated. “They seem to me a little vehement, perhaps, that is all.”
“That is enough. He was desperately anxious for the girl to go. Why? Not because the interview was unpleasant. No, it was the time that was slipping by, and for some reason time was precious.”
“Why should it be?” I asked bewildered.
“That is what we ask ourselves. Why should it be? But later we have the incident of the wristwatch—which again shows us that time plays a very important part in the crime. We are now fast approaching the actual drama. It is half past ten when Bella Duveen leaves, and by the evidence of the wristwatch we know that the crime was committed, or at any rate that it was staged, before twelve o’clock. We have reviewed all the events anterior to the murder, there remains only one unplaced.