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Again
Léonie
shook
her
head
.
“
Never
,
monsieur
.
Never
have
I
heard
Madame
utter
a
word
of
protest
—
of
reproach
,
even
!
She
had
the
temper
and
disposition
of
an
angel
—
quite
different
to
Monsieur
.
”
“
Monsieur
Renauld
had
not
the
temper
of
an
angel
?
”
“
Far
from
it
.
When
he
enraged
himself
,
the
whole
house
knew
of
it
.
The
day
that
he
quarrelled
with
M
.
Jack
—
ma
foi
!
they
might
have
been
heard
in
the
market
place
,
they
shouted
so
loud
!
”
“
Indeed
,
”
said
Poirot
.
“
And
when
did
this
quarrel
take
place
?
”
“
Oh
!
it
was
just
before
M
.
Jack
went
to
Paris
.
Almost
he
missed
his
train
.
He
came
out
of
the
library
,
and
caught
up
his
bag
which
he
had
left
in
the
hall
.
The
automobile
,
it
was
being
repaired
,
and
he
had
to
run
for
the
station
.
I
was
dusting
the
salon
,
and
I
saw
him
pass
,
and
his
face
was
white
—
white
—
with
two
burning
spots
of
red
.
Ah
,
but
he
was
angry
!
”
Léonie
was
enjoying
her
narrative
thoroughly
.
“
And
the
dispute
,
what
was
it
about
?
”
“
Ah
,
that
I
do
not
know
,
”
confessed
Léonie
.
“
It
is
true
that
they
shouted
,
but
their
voices
were
so
loud
and
high
,
and
they
spoke
so
fast
,
that
only
one
well
acquainted
with
English
could
have
comprehended
.
But
Monsieur
,
he
was
like
a
thundercloud
all
day
!
Impossible
to
please
him
!
”
