"Was he, mon amf! I think not. He was burly and

bluff and red-faced, with a thick moustache and a

hoarse voice. He will be none of those things by this

time, and for the rest, he has nondescript eyes, nondescript ears, and a perfect set of false teeth. Identification

is not such an easy matter as you seem to think. Next

time--"

"You think there will be a next time?" I interrupted. Poirot's face grew very grave.

"It is a duel to the death, won ami. You and I on the one side, the Big Four on the other. They have won the

first trick; but they have failed in their plan to get me out of the way, and in the future they have to reckon

with Hercule Poirot!"

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^

3

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J^zr .More ^ibout^i Cdang 'Yen

For a day or two after our visit from the fake Asylum

attendant I was in some hopes that he might return, and

I refused to leave the flat even for a moment. As far as I could see, he had no reason to suspect that we had penetrated his disguise. He might, I thought, return and try

to remove the body, but Poirot scoffed at my reasoning.

"Afon ami," he said, "if you wish you may wait in to put salt on the little bird's tail, but for me I do not waste my time so."

"Well then, Poirot," I argued, "why did he run the risk of coming at all. If he intended to return later for the body, I can see some point in his visit. He would at least be removing the evidence against himself; as it is, he does not seem to have gained anything."

Poirot shrugged his most Gallic shrug. "But you do

not see with the eyes of Number Four, Hastings," he said. "You talk of evidence, but what evidence have we 19

20 Agatha Christie

against him? True, we have a body, but we have no

proof even that the man was murdered--prussic acid,

when inhaled, leaves no trace. Again, we can find no

one who saw any one enter the flat during our absence,

and we have found out nothing about the movements of

our late friend, Mayerling....

"No, Hastings, Number Four has left no trace, and

he knows it. His visit we may call a reconnaisance. Perhaps he wanted to make quite sure that Mayerling was

dead, but more likely, I think, he came to see Hercule

Poirot, and to have speech with the adversary whom

alone he must fear."

Poirot's reasoning appeared to me typically egotistical, but I forbore to argue.

"And what about the inquest?" I asked. "I suppose you will explain things clearly there, and let the police have a full description of Number Four."

"And to what end? Can we produce anything to impress a coroner's jury of your solid Britishers? Is our

description of Number Four of any value? No; we shall

allow them to call it 'Accidental Death,' and may be,