plans we may make."

Dr. Lutz said:

"And I ? What do I do ?"

"You, doctor,3? said Poirot gravely,

"will do all you can for your patient. The

rest of us will employ ceaseless vigilance

--and wait. There is nothing else we can

do.5'

VI

It was three days later that a little party

of men appeared in front of the hotel in

the early hours of the morning.

166

It was Hercule Poirot who opened the

front door to them with a flourish.

"Welcome, mon vieux."

Monsieur Lementeuil, Commissaire of

Police, seized Poirot by both hands.

"Ah, my friend, with what emotion I

greet you! What stupendous events - what emotions you have passed through!

And we below, our anxiety, our fears-knowing nothing --fearing everything. No wireless--no means of communication.

To heliograph, that was indeed a stroke

of genius on your part."

"No, no," Poirot endeavoured to look

modest. "After all, when the inventions

of man fail, one falls back upon nature.

There is always the sun in the sky."

The little party filed into the hotel.

Lementeuil said:

"We are not expected ?" His smile was

somewhat grim.

Poirot smiled also. He said:

"But no! It is believed that the funicular

is not nearly repaired yet."

Lementeuil said with emotion:

"Ah, this is a great day. There is no

doubt, you think? It is really Marrascaud

?"

LOH12

167

"It is Marrascaud all right. Come with

me."

They went up the stairs. A door opened

and Schwartz came out in his dressinggown.

He stared when he saw the men.

"I heard voices," he explained. "Why,

what's this ?"

Hercule Poirot said grandiloquently:

"Help has come! Accompany us, monsieur.

This is a great moment."

He started up the next flight of stairs.

Schwartz said:

"Are you going up to Drouet? How is

he, by the way ?"

"Dr. Lutz reported him going well last

night."

They came to the door ofDrouet's room.

Poirot flung it open. He announced:

"Here is your wild boar, gentlemen. Take

him alive and see to it that he does not

cheat the guillotine."

The man in the bed, his face still bandaged, started up. But the police officers had him by the arms before he could move.

Schwartz cried bewildered:

"But that's Gustave the waiter --that's

Inspector Drouet."

"It is Gustave, yes --but it is not Drouet.

168

Drouet was the first waiter, the waiter

Robert who was imprisoned in the unused

part of the hotel and whom Marrascaud

killed the same night as the attack was

made on me.3'

VII

Over breakfast, Poirot explained gently

to the bewildered American.

'Tou comprehend, there are certain

things one knows — knows quite certainly

in the course of one's profession. One

knows, for instance, the difference between

a detective and a murderer! Gustave was

no waiter—that I suspected at once—

but equally he was not a policeman. I have

dealt with policemen all my life and I

know. He could pass as a detective to an