Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen The Second Corpse

Unable to wait any longer, I turned and walked up the path to the shed.The two men on guard there stood aside to let me pass.I walked in nervously. Dimly lit, it was a rough wooden house for pots and tools.I hurried forward, but stopped at the threshold, and was stunned by the sight that opened before my eyes. Giraud was on all fours, flashlight in hand, examining every inch of the ground.He frowned when he saw me come in, and then his smug, haughty face relaxed a little. "It's right there," Jiro said, shining a flashlight on a far corner. I walked over. The deceased was lying on his back straight, with a medium build and a dark complexion. He was about fifty years old.He was neatly dressed in a well-tailored dark blue suit, probably made by a high-class tailor, but worn.His face was terribly askew.On the left side of the body, where the heart stood, stood a black, shiny dagger hilt. I recognized it at a glance. It was the same dagger I saw in the glass jar the previous morning!

"I'm always expecting the doctor," Giraud explained, "though we don't necessarily need him. There is no doubt that the man is dead. He was stabbed in the heart and died instantly." "When did it happen. Last night?" Jiro shook his head. "It's not like last night. I didn't set the rules of medical evidence, but this man has been dead for more than twelve hours. When did you say you saw that chin?" "About ten o'clock yesterday morning." "Then I am inclined to time the crime not long after that." "But people keep walking up and down the shed."

Giraud laughed obnoxiously: "Your reasoning is marvelous! Who told you that he was murdered in this shed?" "Hmm..." I felt overwhelmed, "I... I assumed." "A good detective indeed: look at him, is this what a man with a stab in the heart looks like when he falls to the ground--legs crossed, arms close together Besides? No. Besides, wouldn't a man lay on his back and let someone stab him with a knife instead of raising his hands to defend himself? Ridiculous. Isn't it? But look here... and here..." He flashed the flashlight, Shine along the ground.I saw odd, irregular marks in the soft earth.

"He was dragged here after his death. He was brought here half-dragged and half-carried by two men. They left no marks on the solid ground outside, and here they have carefully erased them. And one of them is a woman, my young friend." "female?" "right." "But if the traces have been erased, how do you know?" "Because, even though it is blurry, a woman's shoe print is still unmistakable. Besides, based on this." He leaned down, pulled something from the handle of the knife, and held it up for me to see.It was a woman's long black hair, similar to the one Poirot had discovered in the easy-chair in the study.

He smiled sarcastically, and wrapped his hair around the hilt again. "We try to keep everything as it is," he explained, "to please the prosecutor. Well, anything else you noticed?" I have to shake my head. "Look at his hands." I took a look, the nail was broken, discolored, and the skin was rough. Not getting the enlightenment I had hoped for, I looked up at Jiro. "It's not a gentleman's hand," he replied, taking my glance into account. "On the contrary, he's wearing the clothes of a rich man. Isn't it strange?" "That's weird." I agreed.

"And there is no mark on any of his clothes. What can we learn from this? This man is trying to hide his true colors and pass himself off as someone else. He is disguised. Why? What is he afraid of? Does he want to Escape in disguise? I don't know for sure, but one thing we do know: he was as eager to hide his true colors as we were to discover his." He looked again at the body. "As before, there were no fingerprints on the hilt. The murderer wore gloves, too." "So, do you think the two murders were committed by the same murderer?" I asked eagerly. Giro became elusive.

"Never mind what I think, let's wait and see. Malshaw:" The police palace appeared at the door. "Sir, what are your orders?" "Why doesn't Madame Reynolds come? I asked her to come here a quarter of an hour ago." "She's coming down the path, sir. Her son is with her." "All right. But I'll talk separately." The officer saluted and walked away again.Presently he came with Madame Renaud. "Madam is here." Giraud stepped forward and saluted hastily. "Here, ma'am," he led her to the side of the shed, then stepped aside abruptly. "This is the man, do you know him?"

As he spoke, he watched her face sharply, watching her every move, exploring what was on her mind. Madame Reynolds, however, remained perfectly composed—too much, I felt. She stared down at the corpse without interest, showing no sign of agitation or deja vu. "No," she said, "I've never seen him in my life. He's a complete stranger to me." "Are you sure?" "Totally sure." "For instance, don't you think he was one of your perpetrators?" "No." She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if suddenly thinking of something. "No, I don't think so. Of course, those two men had beards—the prosecutor thought it was fake—but no." Now she seemed to have clearly made up her mind, "I'm sure this person is not either of the two."

"Very well, ma'am. That's all." She walked out of the house with her head held high, the sun shining on the silver strands of her head.After she left, Jack Reynolds entered.His attitude was very natural, and he didn't recognize who that person was. Jiro just grunted.Whether he was happy or angry, I cannot tell. He called Malshaw. "Call the other one?" "Yes, sir." "Then bring her in." The other was Mrs. Dobler.She came in angrily, protesting violently. "I protest, sir: it is an insult! What have I to do with it?" "Madame," said Giraud mercilessly, "I am investigating not one murder, but two murders! As far as I know, you are involved in both cases."

"How dare you?" she cried, "how dare you insult me ​​so presumptuously!" "Boring, eh? What's this?" He untied the hair again and held it high. "Did you see, ma'am?" He moved closer to her. "Would you allow me to see if it's the same?" She cried, stepping back, her lips white. "It's false, I swear. I don't know anything about the case—neither of the other. Anyone who says I have a share is lying! Oh, mon Dieu, what shall I do?" "Calm down, ma'am," said Giraud coldly, "there are no charges yet.

However, you must answer my question immediately and well. " "As you please, sir." "Look at the dead man, have you seen him before?" Mrs. Dobler stepped forward a little, and her face calmed down a little.She looked down at the dead man with mixed interest and curiosity, then shook her head. "I do not know him." It seemed impossible to doubt her, for her words sounded so natural.Jiro nodded and sent her away. "You let her go?" I asked in a low voice. "Is that a tactic? That black hair must be on her head." "I don't need to be taught how to do it," said Giraud dryly. "She'll be watched. I don't want to arrest her just yet." He frowned, staring at the corpse. "Will you say that this is a Spaniard?" he asked suddenly. I watched the dead man's face carefully. "No," I said at last, "I'm pretty sure he's a French ①French: my God.—Annotation. people. " Jiro grunted dissatisfied. "Maybe." He stood there for a while, then made a commanding gesture and waved me to step aside.He was on the ground again, continuing to search the grounds of the shed. He is amazing, and nothing escapes him.Inch by inch he crawled over the ground, turning over the pots, examining every piece of old sack.There was a pile of things near the door, and he rushed there impatiently, but it was just a worn-out jacket and a pair of trousers.With a curse, he threw them to the ground.Two pairs of old gloves interested him, but then he shook his head and put them aside again.Then he went back to the pots and turned them over one by one. At last he stood up, shaking his head thoughtfully.It seemed that he was frustrated and a little dazed.I think he has forgotten that I am still there. Just then, there was a commotion outside.My old friend the Prosecutor, accompanied by his secretary and Mr Bakers, followed by a doctor, entered the shed in a hustle and bustle. "This is very strange, Monsieur Giraud," exclaimed Monsieur Ayut, "another murder! Ah, we haven't figured out the first case yet. There's something really deep about it. But this time the murder And who is it?" "That's exactly what we haven't been told, sir. No one has been identified yet." "Where's the body?" asked the doctor. Jiro stepped aside a little. "In the corner. You'll see the man stabbed in the heart with the same dagger that went missing yesterday morning. I think the murder followed the theft—but that's for you to judge." .Then you can touch the head as you like—there are no fingerprints on it." The doctor bent his knees beside the dead man.Giro turns to the prosecutor. "Small problem, isn't it? I'll fix it." "No one can recognize him," said the prosecutor thoughtfully. "Could it be one of the murderers? They might kill each other." Jiro shook his head. "It's a Frenchman. I swear on it..." But their conversation was interrupted by the doctor, who sat on the ground with a bewildered expression. "You say he was murdered yesterday morning?" "I'm guessing based on when the head was stolen," Giraud explained. "Of course, he could have been stabbed later in the day." "Late in the day? Nonsense! The man had been dead for at least forty-eight hours, and possibly earlier." Everyone present was stunned, and everyone looked at each other in blank dismay.