Page:Murder on the Links - 1985.djvu/33

 “Every one of them. There was nothing suspicious or out of place anywhere.”

“Good, Françoise, you can go.”

The old woman shuffled toward the door. On the threshold she looked back.

“I will tell you one thing, monsieur. That Madame Daubreuil she is a bad one! Oh, yes, one woman knows about another. She is a bad one, remember that.” And, shaking her head sagely, Françoise left the room.

“Léonie Qulard,” called the magistrate.

Léonie appeared dissolved in tears, and inclined to be hysterical. M. Hautet dealt with her adroitly. Her evidence was mainly concerned with the discovery of her mistress gagged and bound, of which she gave rather an exaggerated account. She, like Françoise, had heard nothing during the night.

Her sister, Denise, succeeded her. She agreed that her master had changed greatly of late.

“Every day he became more and more morose. He ate less. He was always depressed.” But Denise had her own theory. “Without doubt it was the Mafia he had on his track! Two masked menwho else could it be? A terrible society that!”

“It is, of course, possible,” said the magistrate smoothly. “Now, my girl, was it you who admitted Madame Daubreuil to the house last night?”

“Not last night, monsieur, the night before.”

“But Françoise has just told us that Madame Daubreuil was here last night?”

“No, monsieur. A lady did come to see M. Renauld last night, but it was not Madame Daubreuil.”

Surprised, the magistrate insisted, but the girl held firm. She knew Madame Daubreuil perfectly by sight. This lady was dark also, but shorter, and much younger. Nothing could shake her statement.

“Had you ever seen this lady before?”

“Never, monsieur.” And then the girl added diffidently, “But I think she was English.”

“English?”

“Yes, monsieur. She asked for M. Renauld in quite good