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Poirot.
    '11.50 one way, and 12.17 the other, but it is more probable that they had a motor waiting.'
    'Of course,' agreed Poirot, looking somewhat crestfallen.
    'Indeed, that might be one way of tracing them,' continued the magistrate, brightening. 'A motor containing two foreigners is quite likely to have been noticed. That is an excellent point, Monsieur Bex.'
    He smiled to himself, and then, becoming grave once more, he said to Mrs Renauld:
    'There is another question. Do you know anyone of the name of “Duveen”?'
    'Duveen?' Mrs Renauld repeated thoughtfully. 'No, for the moment, I cannot say I do.'
    'You have never heard your husband mention anyone of that name.'
    'Never.'
    'Do you know anyone whose Christian name is Bella?'
    He watched Mrs Renauld narrowly as he spoke, seeking to surprise any signs of anger or consciousness, but she merely shook her head in quite a natural manner. He continued his questions.
    'Are you aware that your husband had a visitor last night?'
    Now he saw the red mount slightly in her cheeks, but she replied composedly:
    'No, who was that?'
    'A lady.'
    'Indeed?'
    But for the moment the magistrate was content to say no more. It seemed unlikely that Madame Daubreuil had any connection with the crime, and he was anxious not to upset Mrs Renauld more than necessary.
    He made a sign to the commissary, and the latter replied with a nod. Then rising, he went across the room, and returned with the glass jar we had seen in the outhouse in his hand. From this he took the dagger.
    'Madame,' he said gently, 'do you recognize this?'
    She gave a little cry.
    'Yes, that is my little dagger.' Then she saw the stained point, and she drew back, her eyes widening with horror.
    'Is that - blood?'
    'Yes, madame. Your husband was killed with this weapon.'
    He removed it hastily from sight. 'You are quite sure about it being the one that was on your dressing-table last night?'
    'Oh, yes. It was a present from my son. He was in the Air Force during the War. He gave his age as older than it was.' There was a touch of the proud mother in her voice. 'This was made from a streamline aeroplane wire, and was given to me by my son as a souvenir of the War.'
    'I see, madame. That brings us to another matter. Your son, where is he now? It is necessary that he should be telegraphed to without delay.'
    'Jack? He is on his way to Buenos Ayres.'
    'What?'
    'Yes. My husband telegraphed to him yesterday. He had sent him on business to Paris, but yesterday he discovered that it would be necessary for him to proceed without delay to South America. There was a boat leaving Cherbourg for Buenos Ayres last night, and he wired him to catch it.'
    'Have you any knowledge of what the business in Buenos Ayres was?'
    'No, monsieur, I know nothing of its nature, but Buenos Ayres is not my son's final destination. He was going over-land from there to Santiago.'
    And, in unison, the magistrate and the commissary exclaimed:
    'Santiago! Again Santiago!'
    It was at this moment, when we were all stunned by the mention of that 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.
    '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.
    'They must cause you great pain,' he said, and once more he looked puzzled.
    But the magistrate was speaking excitedly.
    'Young 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.
    'You mean,' she said in a low