He said only, “Ah!”—a word which, in his mouth, signified many things.
This was a bit of a trip. What we have here seems to be a sort of proto Poirot and Hastings, except Proto Poirot is 18 years old and can’t grow a mustache. And he’s a French journalist rather than Belgian detective, and instead of being a little round man, he’s a scrawny kid with a round head. (According to Google Translate, his nom de plume literally translates as “roll your ball.”) But he can still make astounding deductions and get irritated that no one else sees what he considers patently obvious.
This was an entertaining read, though I felt a little let down by the explanation of the locked room mystery. The phrase “much ado about nothing” comes to mind.
(Read for Halloween Bingo Locked Room Mystery Square)