4. The Letter Signed “Bella”

           Françoisehadlefttheroom.Themagistratewasdrummingthoughtfullyonthetable.

           “M.Bex,”hesaidatlength,“herewehavedirectlyconflictingtestimony.Whicharewetobelieve,FrançoiseorDenise?”

           “Denise,”saidthecommissarydecidedly.“Itwasshewholetthevisitorin.Françoiseisoldandobstinate,andhasevidentlytakenadisliketoMadameDaubreuil.Besides,ourownknowledgetendstoshowthatRenauldwasentangledwithanotherwoman.”

           “Tiens!”criedM.Hautet.“WehaveforgottentoinformM.Poirotofthat.”Hesearchedamongstthepapersonthetable,andfinallyhandedtheonehewasinsearchoftomyfriend.“Thisletter,M.Poirot,wefoundinthepocketofthedeadman’sovercoat.”

           Poirottookitandunfoldedit.Itwassomewhatwornandcrumbled,andwaswritteninEnglishinaratherunformedhand:

           “Mydearestone:”

           Whyhaveyounotwrittenforsolong?Youdolovemestill,don’tyou?Yourletterslatelyhavebeensodifferent,coldandstrange,andnowthislongsilence.Itmakesmeafraid.Ifyouweretostoplovingme!Butthat’simpossible—whatasillykidIam—alwaysimaginingthings!Butifyoudidstoplovingme,Idon’tknowwhatIshoulddo—killmyselfperhaps!Icouldn’tlivewithoutyou.SometimesIfancyanotherwomaniscomingbetweenus.Letherlookout,that’sall—andyoutoo!I’dassoonkillyouasletherhaveyou!Imeanit.

           “Butthere,I’mwritinghigh-flownnonsense.Youloveme,andIloveyou—yes,loveyou,loveyou,loveyou!

           “Yourownadoring

           “BELLA.”

           Therewasnoaddressordate.