By train. And so on that particular occasion?...
I see... You are sure?...
Ah, she has left you...
I see.
She left you very suddenly, at a moment's notice...
Mais oui, base ingratitude. It is too true. A most ungrateful class!...
Yes, yes, exactly...
No, no, you need not worry.
Au revoir.
Thank you."
He replaced the receiver and turned to Fournier, his eyes green and shining.
"Listen, my friend; Lady Horbury's maid usually traveled by train and boat.
On the occasion of Giselle's murder, Lady Horbury decided at the last moment that Madeleine had better go by air too."
He took the Frenchman by the arm.
"Quick, my friend," he said.
"We must go to her hotel.
If my little idea is correct - and I think it is - there is no time to be lost."
Fournier stared at him.
But before he could frame a question, Poirot had turned away and was heading for the revolving doors leading out of the hotel.
Fournier hastened after him.
"But I do not understand? What is all this?"
The commissionaire was holding open the door of a taxi. Poirot jumped in and gave the address of Anne Morisot's hotel.
"And drive quickly, but quickly!"
Fournier jumped in after him. "What fly is this that has bitten you? Why this mad rush, this haste?"
"Because, my friend, if, as I say, my little idea is correct, Anne Morisot is in imminent danger."
"You think so?"
Fournier could not help a skeptical tone creeping into his voice.
"I am afraid," said Poirot. "Afraid. Bon Dieu, how this taxi crawls!"
The taxi at the moment was doing a good forty miles an hour and cutting in and out of traffic with a miraculous immunity due to the excellent eye of the driver.
"It crawls to such an extent that we shall have an accident in a minute," said Fournier dryly. "And Mademoiselle Grey, we have left her planted there awaiting our return from the telephone, and instead we leave the hotel without a word. It is not very polite, that!"
"Politeness or impoliteness, what does it matter in an affair of life and death?"
"Life or death?"
Fournier shrugged his shoulders.
He thought to himself: "It is all very well, but this obstinate madman may endanger the whole business.
Once the girl knows that we are on her track -"
He said in a persuasive voice: "See now, M. Poirot; be reasonable.
We must go carefully."
"You do not understand," said Poirot. "I am afraid - afraid."
The taxi drew up with a jerk at the quiet hotel where Anne Morisot was staying.
Poirot sprang out and nearly collided with a young man just leaving the hotel.
Poirot stopped dead for a moment, looking after him.
"Another face that I know. But where?... Ah! I remember. It is the actor, Raymond Barraclough."
As he stepped forward to enter the hotel, Fournier placed a restraining hand on his arm.
"M. Poirot, I have the utmost respect, the utmost admiration for your methods, but I feel very strongly that no precipitate action must be taken.
I am responsible here in France for the conduct of this case."
Poirot interrupted him: "I comprehend your anxiety. But do not fear any precipitate action on my part.
Let us make inquiries at the desk.
If Madame Richards is here and all is well, then no harm is done and we can discuss together our future action.
You do not object to that?"
"No, no, of course not."