9. M. Giraud Finds Some Clues

           IntheSalonIfoundtheexaminingmagistratebusilyinterrogatingtheoldgardenerAuguste.Poirotandthecommissary,whowerebothpresent,greetedmerespectivelywithasmileandapolitebow.Islippedquietlyintoaseat.M.Hautetwaspainstakingandmeticulousintheextreme,butdidnotsucceedinelicitinganythingofimportance.

           ThegardeningglovesAugusteadmittedtobehis.Heworethemwhenhandlingacertainspeciesofprimulaplantwhichwaspoisonoustosomepeople.Hecouldnotsaywhenhehadwornthemlast.Certainlyhehadnotmissedthem.Whereweretheykept?Sometimesinoneplace,sometimesinanother.Thespadewasusuallytobefoundinthesmalltoolshed.Wasitlocked?Ofcourseitwaslocked.Wherewasthekeykept?Parbleu,itwasinthedoorofcourse!Therewasnothingofvaluetosteal.Whowouldhaveexpectedapartyofbandits,ofassassins?SuchthingsdidnothappeninMadamelaVicomtesse’stime.M.Hautetsignifyingthathehadfinishedwithhim,theoldmanwithdrew,grumblingtothelast.RememberingPoirot’sunaccountableinsistenceonthefootprintsintheflowerbeds,Iscrutinizedhimnarrowlyashegavehisevidence.Eitherhehadnothingtodowiththecrimeorhewasaconsummateactor.Suddenly,justashewasgoingoutofthedoor,anideastruckme.“PardonM.Hautet,”Icried,“butwillyoupermitmetoaskhimonequestion?”

           “Butcertainly,monsieur.”

           Thusencouraged,IturnedtoAuguste.

           “Wheredoyoukeepyourboots?”

           “Sacàpapier!”growledtheoldman.“Onmyfeet.Whereelse?”

           “Butwhenyougotobedatnight?”

           “Undermybed.