At this minute there was a tap on the door which Bex had closed after him. He strode forward and opened it. Françoise was there. She endeavoured to peep in with ghoulish curiosity.
“Well, what is it?” demanded Bex impatiently.
“Madame. She sends a message that she is much recovered, and is quite ready to receive the examining magistrate.”
“Good,” said M. Bex briskly. “Tell M. Hautet and say that we will come at once.”
Poirot lingered a moment, looking back towards the body. I thought for a moment that he was going to apostrophize it, to declare aloud his determination never to rest till he had discovered the murderer. But when he spoke, it was tamely and awkwardly, and his comment was ludicrously inappropriate to the solemnity of the moment.
“He wore his overcoat very long,” he said constrainedly.
5
Mrs. Renauld’s Story
We found M. Hautet awaiting us in the hall, and we all proceeded upstairs together, Françoise marching ahead to show us the way. Poirot went up in a zigzag fashion which puzzled me, until he whispered with a grimace:
“No wonder the servants heard M. Renauld mounting the stairs; not a board of them but creaks fit to wake the dead!”
At the head of the staircase, a small passage branched off.