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.
“The servants’ quarters,” explained Bex.
We continued along a corridor, and Françoise tapped on the last door to the right of it.
A faint voice bade us enter, and we passed into a large sunny apartment looking out towards the sea, which showed blue and sparkling about a quarter of a mile distant.
On a couch, propped up with cushions, and attended by Dr. Durand, lay a tall, striking-looking woman. She was middle-aged, and her once dark hair was now almost entirely silvered, but the intense vitality and strength of her personality would have made itself felt
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