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“
Well
?
”
I
said
puzzled
.
“
Mon
Dieu
,
mon
ami
,
but
use
your
little
grey
cells
!
Is
it
not
obvious
?
M
.
Renauld
wrote
his
letter
.
Without
blotting
it
,
he
reread
it
carefully
.
Then
,
not
on
impulse
,
but
deliberately
,
he
added
those
last
words
,
and
blotted
the
sheet
.
”
“
But
why
?
”
“
Parbleu
!
so
that
it
should
produce
the
effect
upon
me
that
it
has
upon
you
.
”
“
What
?
”
“
Mais
,
oui
—
to
make
sure
of
my
coming
!
He
reread
the
letter
and
was
dissatisfied
.
It
was
not
strong
enough
!
”
He
paused
,
and
then
added
softly
,
his
eyes
shining
with
that
green
light
that
always
betokened
inward
excitement
:
“
And
so
,
mon
ami
,
since
that
postscript
was
added
,
not
on
impulse
,
but
soberly
,
in
cold
blood
,
the
urgency
is
very
great
,
and
we
must
reach
him
as
soon
as
possible
.
”
“
Merlinville
,
”
I
murmured
thoughtfully
.
“
I
’
ve
heard
of
it
,
I
think
.
”
Poirot
nodded
.
