'My dear Monsieur Poirot,' cried the newcomer, 'I am delighted to see you. Your arrival is most opportune.'

Poirot's face had lighted up.

'Monsieur Bex! This is indeed a pleasure.' He turned to me. 'This is an English friend of mine, Captain Hastings. Monsieur Lucien Bex.'

The commissary and I bowed to each other ceremoniously, then M. Bex turned once more to Poirot.

'Mon vieux, I have not seen you since 1919, that time in Ostend. You have information to give which may assist us?'

'Possibly you know it already. You were aware that I had been sent for?'

'No. By whom?'

'The dead man. It seems that he knew an attempt was going to be made on his life. Unfortunately he sent for me too late.'

'Sacre tonnerre!' ejaculated the Frenchman. 'So he foresaw his own murder. That upsets our theories considerably! But come inside.'

He held the gate open, and we commenced walking towards the house. M. Bex continued to talk: 'The examining magistrate, Monsieur Hautet, must hear of this at once. He has just finished examining the scene of the crime and is about to begin his interrogations.'

'When was the crime committed?' asked Poirot.

'The body was discovered this morning about nine o'clock. Madame Renauld's evidence and that of the doctors goes to show that death must have occurred about 2 A.M… But enter, I pray of you.'

We had arrived at the steps which led up to the front door of the villa. In the hall another sergent de ville was sitting. He rose at sight of the commissary.

'Where is Monsieur Hautet now?' inquired the latter.

'In the [garbled], monsieur.'

Bex opened a door to the left of the hall, and we passed in. M. Hautet and his clerk were sitting at a big round table.