the Countess's sense of humour. Inspector

Stevens might be in real danger.

"Professor Liskeard wants to speak to

you."

The Professor was standing reproachfully

at her elbow.

"You took my steak," he complained.

"Why did you take my steak ? It was a good

steak!"

"Thursday night, old man," said Japp.

"That's when the balloon goes up. It's

Andrews' pigeon, of course--Narcotic

Squad--but he'll be delighted to have

you horn in. No, thanks, I won't have

449

any of your fancy strops. I have to take

care of my stomach. Is that whisky I see

over there ? That's more the ticket!"

Setting his glass down, he went on:

"We've solved the problem, I think.

There's another way out at that Club—

and we've found it^9

"Where ?"

"Behind the grill. Part of it swings

round."

"But surely you would see — "

"No, old boy. When the raid started,

the lights went out — switched off at the

main—and it took us a minute or two

to get them turned on again. Nobody got

out the front way because it was being

watched, but it's clear now that somebody

could have nipped out by the secret way

with the doings. We've been examining

the house behind the Club—and that's

how we tumbled to the trick."

"And you propose to do — what ?"

Japp winked.

"Let it go according to plan — the police

appear, the lights go out — and somebody's

waiting on the other side of that secret door

to see who comes through. This time we've

got 'em!"

450

"Why Thursday ?39

Again Japp winked.

"We've got the Golconda pretty well

taped now. There will be stuff going out

of there on Thursday. Lady Carrington's

emeralds.3'

"You permit," said Toirot, "that I too

make one or two little arrangements ?53

Sitting at his usual small table near the

entrance on Thursday night Poirot studied

his surroundings. As usual Hell was going

with a swing!

The Countess was even more flamboyantly

made up than usual if that was

possible. She was being very Russian

tonight, clapping her hands and screaming

with laughter. Paul Varesco had arrived.

Sometimes he wore faultless evening dress, sometimes, as tonight, he chose to present himself in a kind of apache get-up, tightlybuttoned

coat, scarf round the neck. He

looked vicious and attractive. Detaching

himself from a stout, middle-aged woman

plastered with diamonds, he leaned over

Alice Cunningham who was sitting at a

table writing busily in a little notebook and

asked her to dance. The stout woman

451

scowled at Alice and looked at Varesco

with adoring eyes.

There was no adoration in Miss Cunningham's

eyes. They gleamed with pure

scientific interest, and Poirot caught fragments

of their conversation as they danced

past him. She had progressed beyond the

nursery governess and was now seeking

information about the matron at Paul's

preparatory school.

When the music stopped, she sat down

by Poirot looking happy and excited.

"Most interesting," she said. "Varesco

will be one of the most important cases