anxiety. Supplies were assured.

Hercule Poirot endeavoured to get into

conversation with Dr. Karl Lutz and was

rebuffed. The doctor intimated plainly

that psychology was his professional pre i54

occupation and that he was not going to

discuss it with amateurs. He sat in a corner

reading a large German tome on the subconscious

and making copious notes and

annotations.

Hercule Poirot went outside and wandered

aimlessly round to the kitchen

premises. There he entered into conversation

with the old man Jacques, who was

surly and suspicious. His wife, the cook, was more forthcoming. Fortunately, she explained to Poirot, there was a large

reserve of tinned food --but she herself

thought little of food in tins. It was

wickedly expensive and what nourishment

could there be in it ? The good God had

never intended people to live out of tins.

The conversation came round to the

subject of the hotel staff. Early in July the

chambermaids and the extra waiters arrived.

But for the next three weeks, there would

be nobody or next to nobody. Mostly

people who came up and had lunch and

then went back again. She and Jacques

and one waiter could manage that easily.

Poirot asked:

"There was already a waiter here before

Gustave came, was there not ?"

155

"But yes, indeed, a poor kind of a

waiter. No skill, no experience. No class

at all."

"How long was he here before Gustave

replaced him ?"

"A few days only — the inside of a week.

Naturally he was dismissed. We were

not surprised. It was bound to come."

Poirot murmured:

"He did not complain unduly ?"

"Ah no, he went quietly enough. After

all, what could he expect ? This is a hotel

of good class. One must have proper

service here.35

Poirot nodded. He asked:

"Where did he go ?"

"That Robert, you mean?" She

shrugged her shoulders. "Doubtless back

to the obscure cafe he came from."

"He went down in the funicular ?"

She looked at him curiously.

"Naturally, Monsieur. What other way

is there to go ?"

Poirot asked:

"Did anyone see him go ?"

They both stared at him.

"Ah! do you think it likely that one

goes to see off an animal like that — that

156

one gives him the grand farewell? One

has one's own affairs to occupy one."

"Precisely," said Hercule Poirot.

He walked slowly away, staring up as

he did so at the building above him. A

large hotel --with only one wing open at

present. In the other wings were many

rooms, closed and shuttered where no one

was likely to enter....

He came round the corner of the hotel

and nearly ran into one of the three cardplaying

men. It was the one with the pasty face and pale eyes. The eyes looked at Poirot without expression. Only the lips

curled back a little showing the teeth like

a vicious horse.

Poirot passed him and went on. There

was a figure ahead of him--the tall