The Murder on the Links Read Free Page B

you have the goodness to see that this card is sent in to the commissary at once?”
    The man took it and, turning his head over his shoulder, whistled. In a few seconds a comrade joined him, and was handed Poirot’s message. There was a wait of some minutes, and then a short, stout man with a huge moustache came bustling down to the gate. The sergent de ville saluted and stood aside.
    â€œMy dear Monsieur Poirot,” cried the newcomer, “I am delighted to see you. Your arrival is most opportune.”
    Poirot’s face had lighted up.
    â€œMonsieur Bex! This is indeed a pleasure.” He turned to me. “This is an English friend of mine, Captain Hastings—Monsieur Lucien Bex.”
    The commissary and I bowed to each other ceremoniously, and M. Bex turned once more to Poirot.
    â€œ Mon vieux, I have not seen you since 1909, that time in Ostend. You have information to give which may assist us?”
    â€œPossibly you know it already. You were aware that I had been sent for?”
    â€œNo. By whom?”
    â€œThe dead man. It seems that he knew an attempt was going to be made on his life. Unfortunately he sent for me too late.”
    â€œ Sacré tonnerre! ” ejaculated the Frenchman. “So he foresaw his own murder. That upsets our theories considerably! But come inside.”
    He held the gate open, and we commenced walking towards the house. M. Bex continued to talk:
    â€œThe examining magistrate, Monsieur Hautet, must hear of this at once. He has just finished examining the scene of the crime and is about to begin his interrogations.”
    â€œWhen was the crime committed?” asked Poirot.
    â€œThe body was discovered this morning about nine o’clock. Madame Renauld’s evidence and that of the doctors goes to show that death must have occurred about 2 a.m. But enter, I pray of you.”
    We had arrived at the steps which led up to the front door of the villa. In the hall another sergent de ville was sitting. He rose at sight of the commissary.
    â€œWhere is Monsieur Hautet now?” inquired the latter.
    â€œIn the salon, monsieur.”
    M. Bex opened a door to the left of the hall, and we passed in. M. Hautet and his clerk were sitting at a big round table. They looked up as we entered. The commissary introduced us, and explained our presence.
    M. Hautet, the Juge d’Instruction, was a tall gaunt man, with piercing dark eyes, and a neatly cut grey beard, which he had a habit of caressing as he talked. Standing by the mantelpiece was an elderly man, with slightly stooping shoulders, who was introduced to us as Dr. Durand.
    â€œMost extraordinary,” remarked M. Hautet as the commissary finished speaking. “You have the letter here, monsieur?”
    Poirot handed it to him, and the magistrate read it.
    â€œH’m! He speaks of a secret. What a pity he was not more explicit. We are much indebted to you, Monsieur Poirot. I hope you will do us the honour of assisting us in our investigations. Or are you obliged to return to London?”
    â€œMonsieur le juge, I propose to remain. I did not arrive in time to prevent my client’s death, but I feel myself bound in honour to discover the assassin.”
    The magistrate bowed.
    â€œThese sentiments do you honour. Also, without doubt, Madame Renauld will wish to retain your services. We are expecting M. Giraud from the Sûreté in Paris any moment, and I am sure that you and he will be able to give each other mutual assistance inyour investigations. In the meantime, I hope that you will do me the honour to be present at my interrogations, and I need hardly say that if there is any assistance you require it is at your disposal.”
    â€œI thank you, monsieur. You will comprehend that at present I am completely in the dark. I know nothing whatever.”
    M. Hautet nodded to the commissary, and the latter took up the tale:
    â€œThis morning, the old servant Françoise, on