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“
M
.
Renauld
,
it
is
not
permitted
to
trifle
with
the
law
!
”
he
thundered
.
“
What
was
the
subject
of
the
quarrel
?
”
Young
Renauld
remained
silent
,
his
boyish
face
sullen
and
overcast
.
But
another
voice
spoke
,
imperturbable
and
calm
,
the
voice
of
Hercule
Poirot
.
“
I
will
inform
you
,
if
you
like
,
M
.
le
juge
.
”
“
You
know
?
”
“
Certainly
I
know
.
The
subject
of
the
quarrel
was
Mademoiselle
Marthe
Daubreuil
.
”
Renauld
sprang
round
,
startled
.
The
magistrate
leaned
forward
.
“
Is
this
so
,
monsieur
.
”
Jack
Renauld
bowed
his
head
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
admitted
.
“
I
love
Mademoiselle
Daubreuil
,
and
I
wish
to
marry
her
.
When
I
informed
my
father
of
the
fact
,
he
flew
at
once
into
a
violent
rage
.
Naturally
I
could
not
stand
hearing
the
girl
I
loved
insulted
,
and
I
,
too
,
lost
my
temper
.
”
