The Murder on the Links by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online Page A

word, that Poirot approached Mrs. Renauld. He had been standing by the window like a man lost in a dream, and I doubt if he had fully taken in what had passed. He paused by the lady’s side with a bow.
    â€œ Pardon, madame, but may I examine your wrists?”
    Though slightly surprised at the request, Mrs. Renauld held them out to him. Round each of them was a cruel red mark where the cords had bitten into the flesh. As he examined them, I fancied that a momentary flicker of excitement I had seen in his eyes disappeared.
    â€œThey must cause you great pain,” he said, and once more he looked puzzled.
    But the magistrate was speaking excitedly.
    â€œYoung Monsieur Renauld must be communicated with at once by wireless. It is vital that we should know anything he can tell us about this trip to Santiago.” He hesitated. “I hoped he might have been near at hand, so that we could have saved you pain, madame.” He paused.
    â€œYou mean,” she said in a low voice, “the identification of my husband’s body?”
    The magistrate bowed his head.
    â€œI am a strong woman, monsieur. I can bear all that is required of me. I am ready—now.”
    â€œOh, tomorrow will be quite soon enough, I assure you—”
    â€œI prefer to get it over,” she said in a low tone, a spasm of pain crossing her face. “If you will be so good as to give me your arm, doctor?”
    The doctor hastened forward, a cloak was thrown over Mrs. Renauld’s shoulders, and a slow procession went down the stairs. M. Bex hurried on ahead to open the door of the shed. In a minute or two Mrs. Renauld appeared in the doorway. She was very pale, but resolute. She raised her hand to her face.
    â€œA moment, messieurs, while I steel myself.”
    She took her hand away and looked down at the dead man. Then the marvellous self-control which had upheld her so far deserted her.
    â€œPaul!” she cried. “Husband! Oh, God!” And pitching forward she fell unconscious to the ground.
    Instantly Poirot was beside her, he raised the lid of her eye, felt her pulse. When he had satisfied himself that she had really fainted, he drew aside. He caught me by the arm.
    â€œI am an imbecile, my friend! If ever there was love and grief in a woman’s voice, I heard it then. My little idea was all wrong. Eh bien! I must start again!”

Six
T HE S CENE OF THE C RIME
    B etween them, the doctor and M. Hautet carried the unconscious woman into the house. The commissary looked after them, shaking his head.
    â€œ Pauvre femme, ” he murmured to himself. “The shock was too much for her. Well, well, we can do nothing. Now, Monsieur Poirot, shall we visit the place where the crime was committed?”
    â€œIf you please, Monsieur Bex.”
    We passed through the house, and out by the front door. Poirot had looked up at the staircase in passing, and shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
    â€œIt is to me incredible that the servants heard nothing. The creaking of that staircase, with three people descending it, would awaken the dead!”
    â€œIt was the middle of the night, remember. They were sound asleep by then.”
    But Poirot continued to shake his head as though not fullyaccepting the explanation. On the sweep of the drive he paused, looking up at the house.
    â€œWhat moved them in the first place to try if the front door were open? It was a most unlikely thing that it should be. It was far more probable that they should at once try to force a window.”
    â€œBut all the windows on the ground floor are barred with iron shutters,” objected the commissary.
    Poirot pointed to a window on the first floor.
    â€œThat is the window of the bedroom we have just come from, is it not? And see—there is a tree by which it would be the easiest thing in the world to mount.”
    â€œPossibly,” admitted the other. “But they could not have done so without leaving