catches up with him just where a narrow alleyway

opens, dividing two gardens. She leads him down it. 'It

is shorter this way, monsieur.' On the right is the garden of Madame Olivier's villa, on the left the garden of

another villa--and from that garden, mark you, the tree

fell--so nearly on us. Garden doors from both open on

THE BIG FOUR 55

the alley. The ambush is there. Men pour out, overpower

him, and carry him into the strange villa."

"Good gracious, Poirot," I cried, "are you pretending to see all this?"

"I see it with the eyes of the mind, mon ami. So, and only so, could it have happened. Come, let us go back to the house."

"You want to see Madame Olivier again?"

Poirot gave a curious smile.

"No, Hastings, I want to see the face of the lady on the stairs."

"Who do you think she is, a relation of Madame

Olivier's?"

"More probably a secretary--and a secretary engaged not very long ago."

The same gentle acolyte opened the door to us.

"Can you tell me," said Poirot, "the name of the lady, the widow lady, who came in just now?"

"Madame Veroneau? Madame's secretary?"

"That is the lady. Would you be so kind as to ask her to speak to us for a moment."

The youth disappeared. He soon reappeared.

"I am sorry. Madame Veroneau must have gone out

again."

"I think not," said Poirot quietly. "Will you give her my name, M. Hercule Poirot, and say that it is important I should see her at once, as I am just going to the

Prefecture."

Again our messenger departed. This time the lady

descended. She walked into the salon. We followed her.

She turned and raised her veil. To my astonishment I

recognised our old antagonist, the Countess Rossakoff,

a Russian countess, who had engineered a particularly

smart jewel robbery in London.

56 Agatha Christie

"As soon as I caught sight of you in the hall, I feared the worst," she observed plaintively.

"My dear Countess Rossakoff--"

She shook her head.

"Inez Veroneau now," she murmured. "A Spaniard, married to a Frenchman. What do you want of me, M.

Poirot? You are a terrible man. You hunted me from

London. Now, I suppose, you will tell our wonderful

Madame Olivier about me, and hunt me from Paris?

We poor Russians, we must live, you know."

"It is more serious than that, madame," said Poirot watching her. "I propose to enter the villa next door, and release M. Halliday, if he is still alive. I know everything, you see."

I saw her sudden pallor. She bit her lip. Then she

spoke with her usual decision.

"He is still alive--but he is not at the villa. Come, monsieur, I will make a bargain with .you. Freedom for

me--and M. Halliday, alive and well, for you."

"I accept," said Poirot. "I was about to propose the same bargain myself. By the way, are the Big Four your