But then, I reflected, X never had a motive. That was the strength of his position. It was that, and that only, that was holding us up. And yet, at any minute, that tiny flash of illumination might come.

IV

I think that here and now I should like to place on record that I had never, all through, considered for one moment that Poirot might fail. In the conflict between Poirot and X, I had never contemplated the possibility that X might come out victor. In spite of Poirot's feebleness and ill health, I had faith in him as potentially the stronger of the two. I was used, you see, to Poirot's succeeding. It was Poirot himself who first put a doubt into my head.

I went in to see him on my way down to dinner. I forget now exactly what led to it, but he suddenly used the phrase "if anything happens to me." I protested immediately and loudly. Nothing would happen - nothing could happen.

"Eh bien, then you have not listened carefully to what Dr. Franklin told you."

"Franklin doesn't know. You're good for many a long year yet, Poirot."

"It is possible, my friend, though extremely unlikely. But I speak now in the particular and not the general sense. Though I may die very soon, it may still be not soon enough to suit our friend X."

"What?" My face showed my shocked reaction.

Poirot nodded.

"But yes, Hastings. X is, after all, intelligent. In fact, most intelligent. And X

cannot fail to perceive that my elimination, even if it were only to precede natural decease by a few days, might be of inestimable advantage."

"But then - but then - what would happen?" I was bewildered.

"When the colonel falls, mon ami, the second in command takes over. You will continue."

"How can I? I'm entirely in the dark."

"I have arranged for that. If anything happens to me, my friend, you will find here" - he patted the locked dispatch case by his side - "all the clues you need. I have arranged, you see, for every eventuality."

"There is really no need to be clever. Just tell me now everything there is to know."

"No, my friend. The fact that you do not know what I know is a valuable asset."

"You have left me a clearly written account of things?"

"Certainly not. X might get hold of it."

"Then what have you left?"

"Indications in kind. They will mean nothing to X - be assured of that - but they will lead you to the discovery of the truth."

"I'm not so sure of that. Why must you have such a tortuous mind, Poirot? You always like making everything difficult. You always have!"

"And it is now with me a passion? Is that what you would say? Perhaps. But rest assured, my indications will lead you to the truth." He paused. Then he said: "And perhaps, then, you would wish that they had not led you so far. You would say instead: 'Ring down the curtain.' "