Chapter 24 Chapter 24 Save Him

We crossed the sea from England on an evening ferry and arrived in Saint-Omer the next morning, where Jack Reynolds had been delivered.Poirot immediately went to see M. Ayut.He made no objection to my going with him, so I went with him. After a series of formalities, we were ushered into the prosecutor's office.He greeted us warmly. "I have been told that you have returned to England, M. Poirot. I am very glad that this is not the case." "It is true, I have been back, sir, but only in a hurry. A side matter, but I think it may be of some help to the investigation of the case."

"So it does help, eh?" ①In the south of France. — Annotation. Poirot shrugged.Mr. Ayut nodded and sighed. "I'm afraid we'll have to retire. Girona bastard, he's behaved too badly, but he's really clever: there's not much chance to expect this man to make mistakes!" "Is that what you think?" Now it was Mr. Ayut's turn to shrug his shoulders. "Well, well, frankly—in private, of course—what other conclusions can you draw?" "Frankly, there are, as far as I can see, several doubtful points which are vague." "For example?..."

But Poirot did not allow him to formulate words. "I haven't made up this list of doubts," he said, "and I'm speaking in general terms. I like the young man, and I don't want to believe that he's guilty of such a heinous crime. By the way, he's very concerned about the case." What do you say about yourself?" The prosecutor frowned. "I can't understand him. He doesn't seem to be able to defend himself in the slightest. It's very difficult to ask him to answer questions. He only makes general denials, and is so obstinate that he doesn't say a word beyond that. I'm going to try him again tomorrow. Maybe you'd like to be there?"

We hastily accepted the invitation. "What a distressing case," said the prosecutor, with a sigh. "My sympathies are with Mrs. Raynaud." "She hasn't regained consciousness. Poor lady, it's saved her a lot of pain in a way. The doctor says the danger is over, but she'll wake up and be as quiet as possible. I think, What she's in is the result of a blow and a fall at the same time. It would be terrible if her brain went off. But I wouldn't be surprised at all . . . not at all, really." Mr. Ayut leaned back in his chair, shaking his head, thinking sadly of the gloomy future.

At last he came to himself, and said suddenly: "That reminds me. I have here a letter from you, M. Poirot. Let me see where it is?" He began to search among his papers, found the letter at last, and handed it to Poirot. "It was sent to me for you," he explained, "but you didn't leave an address, so I can't forward it to you." Poirot looked at the letter curiously.The letter was written in a foreigner's handwriting. The font was long and slanted, so it must have been written by a woman.Poirot did not open the letter, but put it in his pocket, and stood up.

"See you tomorrow, then. Thank you very much for your kind hospitality." "Nothing. I am at your service anytime." We were leaving the police station when we ran into Jiro.He looked more like a playboy, with a smug air. "Aha! M. Poirot," he cried briskly, "you are back from England?" "You see that," said Poirot. "I think the case is not far from the end." "I agree with you, Monsieur Giraud." Poirot spoke in a low voice, and his dingy appearance seemed to please the other party. "These impotent criminals! They don't want to defend themselves. How strange:"

"It's so strange, it must be thought about?" Poirot hinted mildly. But Girod disdains to listen to him.He twirled his cane with ease. "Good-bye, M. Poirot. I am glad that you finally agree that little Reynolds is guilty." "Pardon! I don't think so at all. Jack Raynor is innocent." Giraud hurt a little, then burst out laughing, tapped his head meaningfully, and said curtly: "Toque!" Poirot straightened up, his eyes glaring fiercely. "Monsieur Giraud, you have deliberately insulted me in your conduct throughout this case. You will have to learn a lesson. I will bet you five hundred francs that I will find and kill M. Renault before you do." murderer. Do you agree?"

Giraud stared at him helplessly, and muttered again: "Toque!" "Well," urged Poirot, "agree?" "I don't want to take your money." "Don't worry, you can't take it away:" "Well, well, I agree: you say I've been haughty with you. Well, your manner irritates me once or twice." "It is a great honor to be mentioned," said Poirot. "Good-bye, M. Giraud. Come, Hastings." ①French: Excuse me. ——Annotation. ②French: Neuropathy. ——Annotation. ③French: Neuropathy. ——Annotation. We walked along the road, I didn't say a word, my heart was very heavy.The intention of Poirot's confession was clear enough.I was less sure than ever that I really had the strength to rescue Bella from the consequences of her own actions.This unfortunate encounter with Giraud had invigorated Poirot.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder.I turned back to face Stoner.We stopped and greeted him.He then offered to walk back to the hotel with us. "What is your business here, M. Stoner?" asked Poirot. "I've got to stand up for my friends," Stoner said dryly, "especially when they're being unfairly accused." "Then you think Jack? Raynor did not commit a crime?" I asked eagerly. "Of course not. I know the boy. I admit there was a point or two in the whole affair that completely confused me, but I never believed Jack Raynor was a murderer, in spite of his stupid way of doing things."

The secretary's words warmed my heart.His words seemed to lift a secret burden from my mind. "I have no doubt that there are many who think as you do," I exclaimed. "The evidence against him is ridiculously thin. I can say without a doubt that he will be acquitted, without a doubt." But Stoner didn't react as much as I would have liked. "I wish I thought like you," he said cautiously.He turned to Poirot and said: "What do you think, sir?" "I feel that the situation is against him," said Poirot quietly. "Do you think he's guilty?" Stoner snapped.

"No. But I think he'll have a hard time proving his innocence." "What a queer way he behaves," muttered Stoner. "Of course, I know there's a lot more to this story than I know. Giro hasn't got it, because he's a layman, but the whole thing is so queer." On that point, it is better to say less. If Madam Reynolds does not want to make the matter public, I will follow her hints. She is the central figure in the matter, and I have always admired her judgment. It is not appropriate for me to intervene. , but I don't understand Jack's attitude. Anyone can feel that he wants to be thought guilty." "But that's absurd." I barked in. "First of all, that dagger..." I paused, wondering how much Poirot would like me to divulge.I went on, choosing my words carefully. "We know that Jack Reynolds couldn't possibly have held that scorpion that night. Mrs. Reynolds knows that." "Indeed," said Stoner, "when she recovers she will undoubtedly make it all clear. Well, I must part with you." "Wait." Poirot held him back and refused to let him go. "If Madame Renaud regains consciousness, can you send me a letter immediately?" "Of course. That's easy." "That's a good point about the dagger, Poirot," I said as we went upstairs. "I can't say that in Stoner's presence." "You're right. Let us know as much as we can. As for the dagger, your argument won't help Jack Raynor very much. Do you remember when I walked away for an hour this morning when we started from London? " "Yes?" "Well, I was trying to find the company that Jack Reynolds turned metal sheets into souvenirs. It wasn't hard to find. Eh bien" Hastings, they ordered him not two paper knives but three Bundle. " "Then..." "Then one was given to his mother, the other to Bella Duveen, and the third must have been kept for his own use. No, Hastings, I'm afraid the dagger question won't help We saved him from the guillotine." "It's not going to come to this point," I cried, as if stabbed. Poirot shook his head hesitantly. "You'll rescue him," I yelled affirmatively. Poirot glanced at me expressionlessly. "Haven't you made it impossible for me, monami?" "Some other way..." I muttered. "Ah: Sapristi! You want me to perform a miracle. No, stop talking. Let's see what's written in this letter instead?" He took the envelope from his breast pocket. He scrunched his face as he read the letter, then handed me a sheet of filmy letterhead. "There are other women suffering in the world, Hastings." The letter was illegible, and it was evident that the letter had been written in a state of extreme agitation. Dear M. Poirot: ①French: Well.Annotation one by one. ②French: my friend.Annotation one by one. ③French: hell. ——Annotation. After you receive this letter, please come to help.I have no one to turn to, but Jack must be rescued at all costs.On my knees I beg you for help. Marta Dobler I handed him the letter back, deeply moved. "are you going?" "Go right away. Let's hire a car." Half an hour later, we came to Villa Margaret.Marta met us at the door.She let Poirot into the room and held Poirot's hand tightly with both hands. "Oh, you're here . "Is it true that he doesn't deny the crime? But that's crazy. He couldn't have done it. I wouldn't believe it for a minute." "I don't believe it either, madam," said Poirot softly. "But why didn't he say it? I really don't understand." "Perhaps he is covering someone," said Poirot tentatively, watching her. Marta frowned. "Covering who? You mean his mother? Well, I suspected her from the first. Who was the heir to the big fortune? It was her.Wasn't it easy to put on a widow's mourning dress? And they said she'd just fallen like that when he was arrested! She made a dramatic gesture. "Besides, Mr. Stoner, the secretary, is undoubtedly helping her."This pair, working hand in hand.It is true that she is older than him, but men don't care, as long as women are rich! " There was a vague sense of mourning in her tone. "Stoner was in England at the time," I put in. "That's what he said, but who knows?" "Mademoiselle," said Poirot quietly, "if you and I are going to be together, something has to be clarified. First I ask you a question." "What's the question, sir?" "Do you know your mother's real name?" Marta looked at him for a moment, then put her head on her arms and began to cry. "Ah, ah," said Poirot, patting her on the shoulder. "Calm down, pe-tite. I think you know it. Second question: Do you know who M. Reynolds is?" "Mr. Reynolds?" She looked up from her arms and stared at him blankly. "Oh, I see you don't know that. Now listen carefully." He went over the case step by step, as he had told me that day when he left for England.Marta was fascinated, and when he finished speaking, she took a long breath. "You are very good, you are amazing! You are the greatest detective in the world." She slid quickly from her chair and knelt in front of him with no regard for etiquette, with a perfectly French accent. "Help him," she cried, "I love him so much. Oh! Help him, save him . . . save him!" ① French: children. ——Annotation.