Chapter 17 Chapter 17 Further Investigation

I have given the whole account of the Beroldi case.Of course, when retelling, I could not recall all the details.Even so, my recollection is fairly accurate.The case was a sensation at the time, and it was well documented in the English newspapers, so that I did not have to trouble myself to recall the main facts. In addition to the excitement, the Renault incident seems to have come to light.I admit that I am easily impulsive, and Poirot is very disapproving of my habit of jumping to conclusions, but I think I can be forgiven this time.This discovery confirmed Poirot's point, and I was immediately impressed by the ingenious method by which he proved his point.

"Poirot," I said, "congratulations. I understand everything now." Poirot lit a cigarette exactly at his usual time of smoking. Then he looked up. "Now that you understand everything, monami, what exactly do you understand?" "Well, Mrs. Dorrell, who is also Mrs. Bellodie, did the murder of M. Reynolds. The resemblance between the two cases undoubtedly proves it." "Then you think it was wrong for Lady Bellodi to be acquitted? And according to the facts, she is guilty of murdering her husband?" I keep my eyes open. "Of course! Don't you think so too?"

Poirot went to one end of the room, adjusted the chairs absently, and said thoughtfully: "Yes, I think so too. But, my friend, there is no question of 'of course'. Mrs. Bellodi is innocent according to the law." "Perhaps innocent in that case, but not in this one." Poirot sat down again, studied me, and fell into deeper thought. "Then, Hastings, is your opinion that Mrs. Dobler must have been the murderer of Mr. Reynolds?" "right." "why?" His question was so sudden that I couldn't help but froze. "Why?" I said, tongue-tied, "Why? Oh, because..." I couldn't go on.

Poirot nodded to me. ①French: my friend. ——Annotation. "You see, you immediately hit a stumbling block. Why did Mrs. Dobler (as I shall call her for the sake of clarity) kill Mr. Reynolds? We can't find a motive.His death would do her no good, because it would make her a mistress and a blackmailer.Without a motive, there can be no murder.It wasn't the same with the first murder—that time we had a rich lover waiting to take over from her husband. " "Money is not the only motive for murder." I demurred. "Yes," agreed Poirot calmly. "There are two other motives.

One is crimepassionnel; and the second, which is rarer, is murder for a claim, often due to the insanity of the murderer.Homicidal maniacs and religious maniacs fall into this category.However, we can exclude this point in this case. " "But what about the crimepassionnel? Can you rule that out? If Mrs. Dobler was Raynaud's mistress, if she found his love growing cold, or if there was something that aroused her jealousy, wouldn't she die in a moment of rage?" To kill him?" Poirot shook his head. "If—note, I said if—Mrs. Dobler was Raynor's mistress, he hadn't had time to dislike her. And anyway, you haven't got her character. This woman is emotionally terrible. She's an unusual actress. But a dispassionate look at her reveals that her appearance is nothing like that. Let's examine her history, her life, her motives 、All actions are ruthless ①French: A crime driven by lust. Annotation one by one, love, and all are well-thought-out. She assassinated her husband not to marry her young lover. The American Rich young man was her target, though she might have no feelings for him at all. If she committed a crime, it was always for profit. There was no profit here. Besides, what's the explanation for digging the grave? What did the man do?"

"She may have an accomplice." I was unwilling to give up my claim, so I said tentatively. "Let me turn to another objection. You mentioned that there are similarities between the two cases, my friend, and where is the similarity?" I quietly stared at him. "Well, Poirot, you said it yourself! What masked fellows, 'secret' documents, etc." Poirot smiled lightly. "I beg you not to be so angry. I deny nothing that the parallels between the two stories inevitably link the two cases. But there are some odd situations to think about.It was not Mrs. Dobler who told us the story—if she had, everything would be all right—but Mrs. Reynolds.Was she, then, in complicity with Mrs. Dobler?"

"I don't believe it," I said slowly. "If that's the case, then she's the only actress in the world." "There, here," said Poirot, unable to restrain himself, "you are being too sentimental and unreasonable. If the criminal must be a unique actor, let her be such an actor. But, isn't it?" Must it be so? I do not think that Mrs. Renaud was in collusion with Mrs. Dobler for several reasons, some of which I have already stated to you. Others are self-evident. Therefore, having ruled out this possibility, we is very close to the truth of the matter, and the truth of the fact is often very strange and interesting."

"Poirot," I cried, "what else do you know?" "Monami, you have to draw your own conclusions. You 'have the facts,' concentrate your gray cells, reason like Hercule Poirot, not like Giro." "But are you sure?" "My friend, I am a fool in many ways, but at last I see clearly." "You know everything?" "I have discovered what M. Reynolds wants me to discover." "Do you know who the murderer is?" "I know a murderer." "what do you mean?" "We're talking a bit contradictory. Here's not one case, but two. I've settled the first, and the second—ehbien, I must admit I'm not sure yet!"

"But, Poirot, I think you said that the man in the shed died of natural causes." "Here, here!" was Poirot's favorite cry when he was impatient. "You don't understand yet. A crime may be committed without a murderer, but two crimes may be committed ①French: my friend. —Annotation, ②French: Alright.A translation note. There must have been two bodies. " It was strange that he was speaking so incoherently, and I couldn't help looking at him anxiously.But he looked exactly as he always did.Suddenly he stood up and walked to Zhou. "Here he comes," he said.

"Who is it?" "Mr. Jack Raynor. I sent a note to the villa asking him to come here." The appearance of Jack Reynolds changed my thinking.I then asked Poirot if he knew that Jack Raynor was in Melanville on the night of the accident.I tried to catch the loopholes of my shrewd little friend, but he knew everything, as usual.It turned out that he had also inquired at the station. "No doubt, Hastings, it was not our foresight. The great Giraud may have inquired too." "You don't think..." I said, and stopped again. "Oh, no, it's terrible."

Poirot looked at me questioningly, but I said no more.It occurred to me just now that seven women were directly or indirectly involved in this case—Mrs. Renault, Mrs. Dobler and her daughter, the mysterious visitor, and three maids, but only one man— —Jack Raynor.The old man August is not counted, except.And the grave must have been dug by a man. I had no time to think further about this dreadful sudden thought, because Jack Raynor was ushered into the room. Poirot received him businesslike. "Please sit down, sir. I am very sorry to disturb you, but you may understand that the atmosphere of the villa does not suit me. Mr. Giraud does not see things as I do, and his manners to me have not been particularly thoughtful. You will understand, I have no intention of benefiting him by any slight discovery I may make." "That's right, Monsieur Poirot," said the young man, "that fellow Giraud is a complete beast. I'd be glad to see someone take him into the army." "Then may I ask you a little favor?" "certainly." "I want you to go to the train station and ride along the railroad to the next stop, Abalak. You ask in the cloakroom if two foreigners kept a suitcase on the night of the murder.This is a small station, someone will definitely remember them.Would you like to do this?" "Of course I would," said the young man.Although he accepted the task happily, he felt a little baffled. "You understand that my friend and I have business elsewhere," explained Poirot. "There is a train in fifteen minutes. I beg you not to go back to the villa, as I do not want Gilot to know about your situation." Errand." "Okay, I'll go straight to the station now." He stood up.Poirot called to him: "Wait, Monsieur Renaud, there is one little incident that puzzles me. Why didn't you tell Monsieur Ayut this morning that you were in Melanville the night it happened?" Jack Reynolds' face turned red, and he restrained himself. "You are mistaken. I am at Cherbourg. I told the prosecutor this morning." Poirot watched him, his eyes squinted like a cat's, with only a gleam of green light showing. "Then it is curious that I was wrong on this point, because the people at the station were wrong too. They say you arrived at Melanville by the eleven forty." Jack Raynor hesitated for a moment, then made up his mind. "So what if I am? I suppose you can't accuse me of participating in the murder of my father?" he asked proudly, throwing his head back. "I want you to explain why you're here." "Isn't that easy? I'm coming to see my fiancée, Miss Dobler. I'm about to go on a journey, and I don't know when I'll be back. I want to see her before I go, and assure her of my fidelity to her forever." constant." "Did you see her?" Poirot's eyes fixed on the other's face. After a considerable time, Renault replied: "I see." "What about the future?" "I found out I missed this last train. I walked to Saint-Beauvais, knocked at a garage, and hired a car to take me back to Cherbourg." "Saint Beauvais? That's fifteen kilometers. It's a long way, Monsieur Renault." "I... I like to walk." Poirot nodded his head in acceptance of his explanation.Jack Raynor took his hat and cane and went away.In an instant Poirot jumped to his feet. "Quick, Hastings. We'll follow him." We followed our target through the streets of Melanville, keeping a fair distance from him.But when Poirot saw him turn the corner towards the station.Forty-two miles northwest of Paris.Annotation one by one. , no longer go forward. "It's all right. He's caught the trap. He'll go to Abarak and ask about the mysterious suitcase left by the two mysterious foreigners. Yes, monami, that's a little invention of mine. " "You're going to get rid of him," I exclaimed. "Your insight is astonishing, Hastings! Now, if you please, let us go up to the Villa Geneviève." ①French: my friend.Annotation one by one.