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18
Agatha Christie
You, for instance, saw a goddess. I—” he hesitated.
“Yes?”
“I saw only a girl with anxious eyes,” said Poirot gravely.
But at that moment we drew up at a big green gate, and, simultaneously, we both uttered an exclamation. Before it stood an imposing sergent de ville. He held up his hand to bar our way.
“You cannot pass, monsieurs.”
“But we wish to see Mr. Renauld,” I cried. “We have an appointment. This is his Villa, isn’t it?”
“Yes, monsieur, but—”
Poirot leaned forward.
“But what?”
“M. Renauld was murdered this morning.”
