3. At the Villa Geneviève

           InamomentPoirothadleaptfromthecar,hiseyesblazingwithexcitement.Hecaughtthemanbytheshoulder.

           “Whatisthatyousay?Murdered?When?How?”

           Thesergentdevilledrewhimselfup.

           “Icannotansweranyquestions,monsieur.”

           “True.Icomprehend.”Poirotreflectedforaminute.“TheCommissaryofPolice,heiswithoutdoubtwithin?”

           “Yes,monsieur.”

           Poirottookoutacard,andscribbledafewwordsonit.

           “Voilà!Willyouhavethegoodnesstoseethatthiscardissentintothecommissaryatonce?”

           Themantookitand,turninghisheadoverhisshoulder,whistled.InafewsecondsacomradejoinedhimandwashandedPoirot’smessage.Therewasawaitofsomeminutes,andthenashortstoutmanwithahugemoustachecamebustlingdowntothegate.Thesergentdevillesalutedandstoodaside.

           “MydearM.Poirot,”criedthenew-comer,“Iamdelightedtoseeyou.Yourarrivalismostopportune.”

           Poirot’sfacehadlightedup.

           “M.Bex!Thisisindeedapleasure.”Heturnedtome.“ThisisanEnglishfriendofmine,CaptainHastings—M.LucienBex.”

           ThecommissaryandIbowedtoeachotherceremoniously,thenM.BexturnedoncemoretoPoirot.

           “Monvieux,Ihavenotseenyousince1909,thattimeinOstend.IheardthatyouhadlefttheForce?”

           “SoIhave.IrunaprivatebusinessinLondon.”

           “Andyousayyouhaveinformationtogivewhichmayassistus?”

           “Possiblyyouknowitalready.YouwereawarethatIhadbeensentfor?”

           “No.Bywhom?”

           “Thedeadman.Itseemsheknewanattemptwasgoingtobemadeonhislife.