Status Updates From The Murder on the Links (He...

Giraud stared for a moment—then burst out laughing, tapping his head significantly with the brief remark: ‘Toqué!’
Poirot drew himself up. A dangerous light showed in his eyes.
‘Monsieur Giraud, throughout the case your manner to me has been deliberately insulting. You need teaching a lesson.’

‘You mean—’
‘It would mean a good film, the story that you have recounted to me there—but it bears no sort of resemblance to everyday life.’
‘I admit that I haven’t gone into all the details, but—’
‘You have gone farther—you have ignored them magnificently.’

‘Money is not the only motive for murder,’ I objected.
‘True,’ agreed Poirot placidly. ‘There are two others, the crime passionnel is one. And there is the third rare motive, murder for an idea, which implies some form of mental derangement on the part of the murderer. Homicidal mania and religious fanaticism belong to that class.‘

‘Why did you measure that overcoat?’ I asked, with some curiosity, as we walked down the hot white road at a leisurely pace.
‘Parbleu! to see how long it was,’ replied my friend imperturbably.
I was vexed. Poirot’s incurable habit of making a mystery out of nothing never failed to irritate me.

Poirot lingered a moment, looking back towards the body. I thought for a moment that he was going to apostrophize it, to declare aloud his determination never to rest till he had discovered the murderer. But when he spoke, it was tamely and awkwardly, and his comment was ludicrously inappropriate to the solemnity of the moment.
‘He wore his overcoat very long,’ he said constrainedly.