woman's. Poirot did not open it. Instead he put it in his pocket and rose to his feet.
“Till tomorrow then, M. le juge. Many thanks for your courtesy and amiability.”
“But not at all. I am always at your service. These young detectives of the school of Giraud, they are all alike—rude, sneering fellows. They do not realize that an examining magistrate of my—er—experience is bound to have a certain discernment, a certain—flair. Enfin! the politeness of the old school is infinitely more to my taste. Therefore, my dear friend, command me in any way you will. We know a thing or two, you and I—eh?"
And laughing heartily, enchanted with himself and with us, M. Hautet bade us adieu. I am sorry to have to record that Poirot's first remark to me as we traversed the corridor was: "A famous old imbecile, that one! Of a stupidity to make pity!"
We were just leaving the building when we came face to face with Giraud, looking more dandified than ever, and thoroughly pleased with himself.
“Aha! M. Poirot,” he cried airily. “You have returned from England then?"
“As you see,” said Poirot.
“The end of the case is not far off now, I fancy.”
“I agree with you, M. Giraud.”
Poirot spoke in a subdued tone. His crestfallen manner seemed to delight the other.
“Of all the milk-and-water criminals! Not an idea of defending himself. It is extraordinary!”
“So extraordinary that it gives one to think, does it not?” suggested Poirot mildly.
But Giraud was not even listening. He twirled his cane amicably.
“Well, good day, M. Poirot. I am glad you're satisfied of young Renauld's guilt at last.”
“Pardon! But I am not in the least satisfied. Jack Renauld is innocent.”
181
