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.

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