Chapter 18 Chapter 18: Giro Takes Action

On reaching the villa, Poirot went straight to the shed where the second body was found.Instead of going in, he stopped at a bench.The bench, as I said before, was several yards from the shed.After a minute or two of silent reflection, he approached cautiously the fence that marked the dividing line between the Villa Genevieve and the Villa Marguerite.Then he paced back again, nodding frequently.He went back to the fence and parted the bushes with his hands. He turned to me and said: "With any luck, Miss Marta may be in the garden. I want to speak to her. I don't want to go to Villa Margaret for an official visit. Oh, well, she's there." Hi, miss! Hi! Un mo—ment, sil vous plalt①."

Marta Dobler was slightly surprised when she heard his cry.She ran to ①French: Please wait. ——Annotation. I went up to Poirot as well. "With your permission, miss, I have something to say to you." "Of course, M. Poirot." Despite her verbal assent, her eyes were restless, frightened. "Miss, you remember that when I came to your house with the prosecutor that day, you ran after me on the road. You asked me if anyone was suspected of this crime." "You told me there were two Chileans," she said breathlessly, pressing her left hand on her chest involuntarily.

"Will you ask me the same question again, miss?" "what do you mean?" "That's right. If you ask me that question again, I'll give you another answer. There's a suspect, and he's not Chilean." "Who?" came the word from her parted lips, very softly. "Mr. Jack Raynor." "What?" was a cry. "Jack? Impossible. Who dares doubt him?" "Giro." "Giro!" the girl turned pale. "I'm afraid of that man. He's cruel. He'll...he'll..." She broke off.Her face gradually showed bravery and determination.For a moment, I realized, she was like a warrior.Poirot, too, was watching her intently.

"He was here on the night of the murder. Of course you know that." "Yes," she replied mechanically, "he told me." "It would be unwise to try to conceal the fact," Poirot ventured. "Yes, yes," she answered impatiently, "but we mustn't waste time on remorse. We must try to save him. He's innocent, of course, but dealing with Giraud won't help him." Busy. A man like Jiro only cares about his own reputation. He's gotta catch somebody, and that's got to be Jack." "The facts are against him," said Poirot. "Are you aware of that?"

She looked him squarely. "I am not a child, sir. I have the courage to face the truth. He is innocent and we must save him." She spoke desperately, then fell silent again, frowning deep in thought. "Mademoiselle," said Poirot, studying her carefully, "is there anything you can tell us that you haven't said?" She nodded apprehensively. "Yes, there's something, but I don't know if you'll believe it—it's absurd." "Anyway, tell us, miss." "Here's what happened: Giraud called me, as an afterthought, to identify the man." She gestured to the shed with her head, "I didn't recognize him, at least not at the time. .but for a while now I've been thinking about..."

"Well?" "It seems strange, but I am almost certain of it. I tell you, on the morning that M. Reynolds was killed, I was walking in the garden when I heard men's voices arguing. I pushed the bush against the Looking over, one of them was Mr. Reynolds, and the other was a tramp, dressed in dirty and shabby clothes, looking terrible. He was whimpering and threatening. I guessed he was asking for money, but at that time mother I was called in the house, so I had to go away. That's it.It's just... I'm almost sure the bum and the dead man in the shed are the same person. "

Poirot uttered an exclamation. "But why didn't you say it then, miss?" "Because the man at the beginning only vaguely familiar to me in some places, but the clothes are different, and he seems to belong to a higher class." There was a cry from inside the house. "It's mother. I have to go," Marta whispered, and made her way through the bushes. "Come with me," said Poirot, leading me by the arm towards the villa. "What's on your mind?" I asked curiously. "Is the story true, or was the girl making it up so that no one would suspect his lover?"

"It's a queer story," said Poirot, "but I believe it to be entirely true. Miss Marta has inadvertently told us the truth on another point, but has not openly accused Jack Raynor of lying." ...did you notice his awkwardness when i asked him if he had seen marta dobler the night of the accident? He was lying. I had to see Miss Marta before he alerted her. A few small words gave me the information I was looking for. When I asked her if she knew Jack Raynor was here that night, She replied, 'He told me'. Look, Hastings, what the hell was Jack Raynor doing on that eventful night, and if he didn't see Miss Marta, who did he see? "

"Honestly, Poirot," I cried, frozen in horror, "you don't believe that the boy murdered his own father, do you?" "Monami," said Poirot, "you are still the sentimental skeptic. I have seen mothers murder their own children for insurance money! After such an incident, what is unbelievable?" "And the motive?" "Money, of course. Don't forget, Jack Raynor thought he'd get half his father's fortune when he died." "But what good does the tramp get?" Poirot shrugged. "Giraud would say he was an accomplice—a villain who collaborated with Raynor Jr. and got killed to silence him."

"But what about the hair around the dagger? The woman's hair?" "Huh?" said Poirot with a broad smile. "That's the essence of that little joke of Giraud's. According to him, it's not a woman's hair at all. Remember, young people nowadays use conditioners." The oil brushes the hair back from the forehead to flatten it, and it is quite long too." "Then you also think it's a man's hair?" "No," said Poirot, with an indescribable smile, "because I know it's a woman's hair—and, what woman's hair!"

"Mrs. Dobler," I said firmly. "Perhaps," said Poirot, looking at me inquiringly.But I control myself not to be annoyed. "So what shall we do now?" We entered the porch of the Villa Geneviève ①French: my friend. ——Annotation. when I asked. "I wanted to search Jack Raynor's belongings. That's why I had to send him away for a few hours." Poirot opened each drawer neatly and methodically, checked the contents, and put them back one by one.This is a process of dull interest.Poirot rummaged through collars, pajamas, socks, etc.A bang outside drew me to the window.All of a sudden, I jumped up as if electrified. "Poirot," I cried, "a car has just arrived. There's a Giro in it, and Jack Raynor and two gendarmes." "Sacre tonnerre!" growled Poirot. "Giraud, the beast, can't he wait? My uncle is going to be too late to put away the contents of the last drawer. Come, let's hurry." He dumped everything on the floor, mostly ties, handkerchiefs and the like.Suddenly Poirot let out a cry of triumph, and he lunged at something.It was a small square of cardboard, apparently a photograph.He stuffed the photo into his pocket and put everything back in the drawer.Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room and down the stairs.Giraud stood on the porch, looking at his prisoner. "Hello, Monsieur Giraud," said Poirot, "what is this for?" Jiro nodded, gesturing to Jack. "He tried to escape just now, but he didn't succeed. I was clever enough. He was arrested on charges of murdering his father, Paul Reynolds." Poirot turned to face the young man.Jack Reynolds leaned feebly on ①French: Damn. ——Annotation. On the door, his face was ashen. "What do you have to say, jeune homnle?" Jack Reynolds stared blankly at Poirot. "Nothing," he said. ① French: young people. ——Annotation.