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The
magistrate
did
not
insist
.
Instead
he
inquired
about
the
chauffeur
,
and
learned
that
only
yesterday
,
M
.
Renauld
had
declared
that
he
was
not
likely
to
use
the
car
,
and
that
Masters
might
just
as
well
take
a
holiday
.
A
perplexed
frown
was
beginning
to
gather
between
Poirot
’
s
eyes
.
“
What
is
it
?
”
I
whispered
.
He
shook
his
head
impatiently
,
and
asked
a
question
:
“
Pardon
,
M
.
Bex
,
but
without
doubt
M
Renauld
could
drive
the
car
himself
?
”
The
commissary
looked
over
at
Françoise
,
and
the
old
woman
replied
promptly
:
“
No
,
Monsieur
did
not
drive
himself
.
”
Poirot
’
s
frown
deepened
.
“
I
wish
you
would
tell
me
what
is
worrying
you
,
”
I
said
impatiently
.
