Убийство на поле для гольфа
11. Jack Renauld
Canyougiveusanyclueastothewriter?”
“Ihavenoideawhatsoever.”
M.Hautetsighed.
“Amostmysteriouscase.Ah,well,Isupposewecannowruleouttheletteraltogether.Whatdoyouthink,M.Giraud?Itdoesnotseemtoleadusanywhere.”
“Itcertainlydoesnot,”agreedthedetectivewithemphasis.
“Andyet,”sighedthemagistrate,“itpromisedatthebeginningtobesuchabeautifulandsimplecase!”HecaughtMrs.Renauld’seye,andblushedinimmediateconfusion.“Ah,yes,”hecoughed,turningoverthepapersonthetable.“Letmesee,wherewerewe?Oh,theweapon.Ifearthismaygiveyoupain,M.Renauld.Iunderstanditwasapresentfromyoutoyourmother.Verysad—verydistressing—”
JackRenauldleanedforward.Hisface,whichhadflushedduringtheperusaloftheletter,wasnowdeadlywhite.
“Doyoumean—thatitwaswithanaeroplanewirepapercutterthatmyfatherwas—waskilled?Butit’simpossible!Alittlethinglikethat!”
“Alas,M.Renauld,itisonlytootrue!Anideallittletool,Ifear.Sharpandeasytohandle.”
“Whereisit?CanIseeit?Isitstillinthe—thebody?”
“Oh,no,ithadbeenremoved.Youwouldliketoseeit?Tomakesure?Itwouldbeaswell,perhaps,thoughmadamehasalreadyidentifiedit.Still—M.Bex,mightItroubleyou?”
“Certainly,M.lejuge.Iwillfetchitimmediately.”
“WoulditnotbebettertotakeM.Renauldtotheshed?”suggestedGiraudsmoothly.“Withoutdoubthewouldwishtoseehisfather’sbody.
