my wonder at his cryptic allusion to the flowerbed and the wristwatch. His remarks had seemed so meaningless at the moment, and now, for the first time I realized how remarkably, from a few slight incidents, he had unravelled much of the mystery that surrounded the case. I paid a belated homage to my friend.
'In the meantime,' I said, considering, 'although we know a great deal more than we did we are no nearer to solving the mystery of who killed Mr. Renauld.'
'No,' said Poirot cheerfully. 'In fact we are a great deal farther off.'
The fact seemed to afford him such peculiar satisfaction that I gazed at him in wonder. He met my eye and smiled.
Suddenly a light burst upon me.
'Poirot! Mrs Renauld! I see it now. She must be shielding somebody.'
From the quietness with which Poirot received my remark, I could se that the idea had already occurred to him.
'Yes,' he said thoughtfully. 'Shielding someone-or screening someone. One of the two.'
Then, as we entered our hotel he enjoined silence on me with a gesture.
Chapter 13. The Girl With the Anxious Eyes
We lunched with an excellent appetite. For a while we ate in silence, and then Poirot observed maliciously: 'Eh bien. And your indiscretions! You recount them not?'
I felt myself blushing. 'Oh, you mean this morning?' I endeavoured to adopt a tone of absolute nonchalance.
But I was no match for Poirot. In a very few minutes he had extracted the whole story from me, his eyes twinkling as he did so.
'Tien. A story of the most romantic. What is her name, this charming young lady?'
I had to confess that I did not know.
'Still more romantic! The first rencontre in the train from Paris, the second here. Journeys end in lovers' meetings, is not that the saying?'
'Don't be an ass, Poirot.'
'Yesterday it was Mademoiselle Daubreuil, today it is Mademoiselle-Cinderella! Decidedly you have the heart of a Turk, Hastings! You should establish a harem!'
'It's all very well to rag me. Mademoiselle Daubreuil is a very beautiful girl, and I do admire her immensely-I don't mind admitting it. The other's nothing-I don't suppose I shall ever see her again.'
'You do not propose to see the lady again?'
His last words were almost a question, and I was aware of the sharpness with which he darted a glance at me. And before my eyes, writ large in letters of fire, I saw the words 'Hotel du Phare', and I heard again her voice saying, 'Come and look me up', and my own answering with interest 'I will.'
I answered Poirot lightly enough: 'She asked me to look her up, but, of course, I shan't.'
'Why 'of course'?'
'Well, I don't want to.'
'Mademoiselle Cinderella is staying at the Hotel d'Angleterre you told me, did you not?'
'No. Hôtel du Phare.'
'True, I forgot.'
A moment's misgiving shot across my mind. Surely I had never mentioned any hotel to Poirot. I looked across at him and felt reassured. He was cutting his bread into neat little squares, completely absorbed in his task. He must have fancied I had told him where the girl was staying.
We had coffee outside facing the sea. Poirot smoked one of his tiny cigarettes, and then drew his watch from his pocket.
'The train to Paris leaves at 2.25,' he observed. 'I should be starting.'
'Paris?' I cried.
'That is what I said, mon ami.'
'You are going to Paris? But why?'
He replied very seriously: 'To look for the murderer of Monsieur Renauld.'
'You think he is in Paris?'
'I am quite certain that he is not. Nevertheless, it is there that I must look for him. You do not understand, but I will explain it all to you in good time. Believe me, this journey to Paris is necessary. I shall not be away long. In all probability I shall return tomorrow. I do not propose that you should accompany me. Remain here and keep an eye on Giraud. Also cultivate the society of Monsieur Renauld fil.'
'That reminds me,' I said. 'I meant to ask you how you knew about those two?'
'Mon ami-I know human nature. Throw together a boy like young Renauld and a beautiful girl like Mademoiselle Marthe and the result is almost inevitable. Then, the quarrel. It was money, or a woman, and, remembering Léonie's description of the lad's anger, I decided on the latter. So I made my guess-and I was right.'
'You already suspected that she loved young Renauld?'
Poirot smiled. 'At any rate, I saw that she had anxious eyes. That is how I always think of Mademoiselle Daubreuil-a girl with anxious eyes.'
His voice was so grave that it impressed me uncomfortably. 'What do you mean by that, Poirot?'
'I fancy, my friend, that we shall see before very long. But I must start.'
'I will come and see you off,' I said, rising.
'You will do nothing of the sort. I forbid it.'
He was so peremptory that I stared at him in surprise. He nodded emphatically.
'I mean it, mon ami. Au revoir.'
I felt rather at a loose end after Poirot had left me. I strolled down to the beach and watched the bathers, without feeling energetic enough to join them. I rather fancied that Cinderella might be disporting herself among them in some wonderful costume, but I saw no signs of her. I strolled aimlessly along the sands towards the farther end of the town. It occurred to me that, after all, it would only be decent feeling on my part to inquire after the girl. And it would save trouble in the end. The matter would then be finished with. There would be no need for me to trouble about her any further. But if I did not go at all, she might quite possibly come and look me up at the villa.
Accordingly, I left the beach, and walked inland. I soon found the Hotel du Phare, a very unpretentious building.
It was annoying in the extreme not to know the lady's name and, to save my dignity, I decided to stroll inside and look around. Probably I should find her in the lounge. I went in, but there was no sign of her. I waited for some time, till my impatience got the better of me, I took the concierge aside and slipped five francs into his hand.
'I wish to see a lady who is staying here. A young English lady, small and dark. I am not sure of her name.'
The man shook his head and seemed to be suppressing a grin.
'There is no such lady as you describe staying here.'
'But the lady told me she was staying here.'
'Monsieur must have made a mistake-or it is more likely the lady did, since there has been another gentleman here inquiring for her.'
'What is that you say?' I cried, surprised.
'But yes, monsieur. A gentleman who described her just as you have done.'
'What was he like?'
'He was a small gentleman, well dressed, very neat, very spotless, the moustache very stiff, the head of a peculiar shape, and the eyes green.'
Poirot! So that was why he refused to let me accompany him to the station. The impertinence of it! I would thank him not to meddle in my concerns. Did he fancy I needed a nurse to look after me?
