We were up at the villa betimes next morning. The man on guard at the gate did not bar our way this time. Instead, he respectfully saluted us, and we passed on to the house.

The maid Leonie was just coming down the stairs, and seemed not averse to the prospect of a little conversation.

Poirot inquired after the health of Mrs. Renauld.

Leonie shook her head. 'She is terribly upset, the poor lady! She will eat nothing-but nothing! And she is as pale as a ghost. It is heartrending to see her. Ah, it is not I who would grieve like that for a man who had deceived me with another woman!'

Poirot nodded sympathetically. 'What you say is very just, but what will you? The heart of a woman who loves will forgive many blows. Still undoubtedly there must have been many scenes of recrimination between them in the last few months?'

Again Leonie shook her head. 'Never, monsieur. Never have I heard madame utter a word of protest-of reproach even! She had the temper and disposition of an angel-quite different to monsieur.'

'Monsieur Renauld had not the temper of an angel?'

'Far from it. When he enraged himself, the whole house knew of it. The day that he quarrelled with Monsieur Jack-ma foi they might have been heard in the marketplace, they shouted so loud!'

'Indeed,' said Poirot. 'And when did this quarrel take place?'

'Oh, it was lust before Monsieur Jack went to Paris. Almost he missed his train. He came out of the library, and caught up his bag which he had left in the hall. The automobile, it was being repaired, and he had to run for the station. I was dusting the salon, and I saw him pass, and his face was white-white-with two burning spots of red. Ah, but he was angry!'

Leonie was enjoying her narrative thoroughly.

'And the dispute, what was it about?'

'Ah, that I do not know,' confessed Leonie. 'It is true that they shouted, but their voices were so loud and high, and they spoke so fast, that only one well acquainted with English could have comprehended. But monsieur, he was like a thundercloud all day! Impossible to please him!'

The sound of a door shutting upstairs cut short Leonie's loquacity.

'And Francoise who awaits me!' she exclaimed, awakening to a tardy remembrance of her duties. 'That old one, she always scolds.'

'One moment, mademoiselle. The examining magistrate, where is he?'

'They have gone out to look at the automobile in the garage. Monsieur the commissary had some idea that it might have been used on the night of the murder.'

'Quite possible,' murmured Poirot, as the girl disappeared.

'You will go out and join them?'

'No, I shall await their return in the salon. It is cool there on this hot morning.'

This placid way of taking things did not quite commend itself to me.

'If you don't mind-' I said, and hesitated.

'Not in the least. You wish to investigate on your own account, eh?'

'Well, I'd rather like to have a look at Giraud, if he's anywhere about, and see what he's up to.'

'The human foxhound,' murmured Poirot, as he leaned back in a comfortable chair, and closed his eyes. 'By all means, my friend. Au revoir.'

I strolled out of the front door. It was certainly hot. I walked up the path we had taken the day before. I had a mind to study the scene of the crime myself. I did not go directly to the spot, however, but turned aside into the bushes, so as to come out on the links some hundred yards or so farther to the right. The shrubbery here was much denser, and I had quite a struggle to force my way through. When I emerged at last on the course, it was quite unexpectedly and with such vigour that I cannoned heavily into a young lady who had been standing with her back to the plantation.

She not unnaturally gave a suppressed shriek, but I, too, uttered an exclamation of surprise. For it was my friend of the train, Cinderella!

The surprise was mutual.

'You?' we both exclaimed simultaneously.

The young lady recovered herself first. 'My only friend!' she exclaimed. 'What are you doing here?'

'For the matter of that, what are you?' I retorted.

'When last I saw you, the day before yesterday, you were trotting home to England like a good little boy.'

'When last I saw you,' I said, 'you were trotting home with your sister, like a good little girl. By the way, how is your sister?'

A flash of white teeth rewarded me. 'How kind of you to ask! My sister is well, I thank you.'

'She is here with you?'

'She remained in town,' said the minx with dignity.

'I don't believe you've got a sister,' I laughed. 'If you have, her name is Harris!'

'Do you remember mine?' she asked with a smile.

'Cinderella. But you're going to tell me the real one now, aren't you?'

She shook her head with a wicked look.

'Not even why you're here?'

'Oh, that. I suppose you've heard of members of my profession "resting".'

'At expensive French watering places?'

'Dine cheap if you know where to go.'

I eyed her keenly. 'Still you'd no intention of coming here when I met you two days ago?'

'We all have our disappointments,' said Miss Cinderella sententiously. 'There now, I've told you quite as much as is good for you. Little boys should not be inquisitive. You've not yet told me what you're doing here?'

'You remember my telling you that my great friend was detective?'

'Yes?'

'And perhaps you've heard about this crime- at the Villa Genevieve-?'

She stared at me. Her breast heaved, and her eyes grew wide and round. 'You don't mean-that you're in on it?'

I nodded. There was no doubt that I had scored heavily. Her emotion, as she regarded me, was only too evident. For some few seconds she remained silent, staring at me. Then she nodded her head emphatically.

'Well, if that doesn't beat the band! Tote me round. I want to see all the horrors. What I say. Bless the boy, didn't I tell you I doted on crimes? I've been nosing round for hours. It's a real piece of luck happening on you this way. Come on, show me all the [missing].

'But look here-wait a minute-I can't. Nobody's [missing].

'Aren't you and your friend the big bugs?'

I was loath to relinquish my position of importance. 'Why are you so keen?' I asked weakly. 'And what is it you want to see?'

'Oh, everything! The place where it happened, and the weapon, and the body, and any fingerprints or interesting things like that. I've never had a chance before of being right in on a murder like this. It'll last me all my life.'

I turned away, sickened. What were women coming to nowadays? The girl's ghoulish excitement nauseated me.

'Come off your high horse,' said the lady suddenly. 'And don't give yourself airs. When you got called to this job, did you put your nose in the air and say it was a nasty business, and you wouldn't be mixed up in it?'

'No, but I'm-'

'If you'd been here on a holiday, wouldn't you be nosing round just the same as I am? Of course you would.'

'I'm a man. You're a woman.'

'Your idea of a woman is someone who gets on a chair and shrieks if she sees a mouse. That's all prehistoric. But you will show me round, won't you? You see, it might make a big difference to me.'

'In what way?'

'They're keeping all the reporters out. I might make a big scoop with one of the papers. You don't know how much they pay for a bit of inside stuff.'

I hesitated. She slipped a small soft hand into mine. 'Please-there's a dear.'

I capitulated. Secretly, I knew that I should rather enjoy the part of showman.

We repaired first to the spot where the body had been discovered. A man was on guard there, who saluted respectfully, knowing me by sight, and raised no questions as to my companion. Presumably he regarded her as vouched for by me. I explained to Cinderella just how the discovery had been made, and she listened attentively, sometimes putting an intelligent question. Then we turned our steps in the direction of the villa. I proceeded rather cautiously, for, truth to tell, I was not at all anxious to meet anyone. I took the girl through the shrubbery round to the back of the house where the small shed was. I recollected that yesterday evening, after relocking the door, M. Bex had left the key with the sergent de ville, Marchaud, 'In case Monsieur Giraud should require it while we are upstairs.' I thought it quite likely that the Surete detective, after using it, had returned it to Marchaud again. Leaving the girl out of sight in the shrubbery, I entered the house. Marchaud was on duty outside the door of the salon. From within came the murmur of voices.

'Monsieur desires Monsieur Hautet? He is within. He is again interrogating Francoise.'

'No,' I said hastily, 'I don't want him. But I should very much like the key of the shed outside if it is not against regulations.'

'But certainly, monsieur.' He produced it. 'Here it is. Monsieur Hautet gave orders that all facilities were to be placed at your disposal. You will return it to me when you have finished out there, that is all.'

'Of course.' I felt a thrill of satisfaction as I realized that in Marchaud's eyes, at least, I ranked equally in importance with Poirot.

The girl was waiting for me. She gave an exclamation of delight as she saw the key in my hand.

'You've got it then?'

'Of course,' I said coolly. 'All the same, you know, what I'm doing is highly irregular.'

'You've been a perfect darling and I shan't forget it. Come along. They can't see us from the house, can they?'

'Wait a minute.' I arrested her eager advance. 'I won't stop you if you really wish to go in. But do you? You've seen the grave, and the grounds, and you've heard all the details of the affair. Isn't that enough for you? This is going to be gruesome, you know, and-unpleasant.'

She looked at me for a moment with an expression that I could not quite fathom. Then she laughed.

'The more for the honours,' she said. 'Come along.'

In silence we arrived at the door of the shed. I opened it and we passed in. I walked over to the body, and gently pulled down the sheet as Bex had done the preceding afternoon.

A little gasping sound escaped from the girl's lips, and I turned and looked at her. There was horror on her face now, and those debonair high spirits of hers were quenched utterly. She had not chosen to listen to my advice, and she was punished now for her disregard of it. I felt singularly merciless towards her. She should go through with it now.

I turned the corpse over gently.

'You see,' I said. 'He was stabbed in the back.'

Her voice was almost soundless. 'With what?'

I nodded towards the glass jar. 'That dagger.'