“Without doubt he thought she had destroyed that letter. It was—pardon me, Monsieur—it was an indiscretion of the first water to keep it.”
“And yet,” murmured Poirot, “it was an indiscretion the Comte might have foreseen.”
“You mean?”
“I mean we are all agreed on one point, and that is that the Comte de la Roche knows one subject à fond : Women. How was it that, knowing women as he does, he did not foresee that Madame would have kept that letter?”
“Yes—yes,” said the Examining Magistrate doubtfully, “there is something in what you say. But at such times, you understand, a man is not master of himself. He does not reason calmly. Mon Dieu! ” he added, with feeling, “if our criminals kept their heads and acted with intelligence, how should we capture them?”
Poirot smiled to himself.
“It seems to me a clear case,” said the other, “but a difficult one to prove. The Comte is a slippery customer, and unless the maid can identify him—”
“Which is most unlikely,” said Poirot.
“True, true.” The Examining Magistrate rubbed his chin. “It is going to be difficult.”
“If he did indeed commit the crime—” began Poirot. M. Caux interrupted.
“If—you say if ?”