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“
Yes
,
monsieur
?
”
“
Are
you
aware
of
your
mother
’
s
real
name
?
”
Marthe
looked
at
him
for
a
minute
,
then
,
letting
her
head
fall
forward
on
her
arms
,
she
burst
into
tears
.
“
There
,
there
,
”
said
Poirot
,
patting
her
on
the
shoulder
.
“
Calm
yourself
,
petite
,
I
see
that
you
know
.
Now
a
second
question
,
did
you
know
who
M
.
Renauld
was
?
”
“
M
.
Renauld
,
”
she
raised
her
head
from
her
hands
and
gazed
at
him
wonderingly
.
“
Ah
,
I
see
you
do
not
know
that
.
Now
listen
to
me
carefully
.
”
Step
by
step
,
he
went
over
the
case
,
much
as
he
had
done
to
me
on
the
day
of
our
departure
for
England
.
Marthe
listened
spellbound
.
When
he
had
finished
,
she
drew
a
long
breath
.
“
But
you
are
wonderful
—
magnificent
!
You
are
the
greatest
detective
in
the
world
.
”
With
a
swift
gesture
she
slipped
off
her
chair
and
knelt
before
him
with
an
abandonment
that
was
wholly
French
.
“
Save
him
,
monsieur
,
”
she
cried
.
“
I
love
him
so
.
Oh
,
save
him
,
save
him
—
save
him
!
”
