The commissary and I bowed to each other ceremoniously, then M. Bex turned once more to Poirot.
“Mon vieux, I have not seen you since 1909, that time in Ostend. I heard that you had left the Force?”
“So I have. I run a private business in London.”
“And you say you have information to give which may assist us?”
“Possibly you know it already. You were aware that I had been sent for?”
“No. By whom?”
“The dead man. It seems he knew an attempt was going to be made on his life. Unfortunately he sent for me too late.”
“Sacri tonnerre!” ejaculated the Frenchman. “So he foresaw his own murder? That upsets our theories considerably! But come inside.”
He held the gate open, and we commenced walking towards the house. M. Bex continued to talk:
“The examining magistrate, M. Hautet, must hear of this at once. He has just finished examining the scene of the crime and is about to begin his interrogations. A charming man. You will like him. Most sympathetic. Original in his methods, but an excellent judge.”