“There has been another murder,” said Poirot. “At the Bloxham Hotel.”

“Oh, dear.” For several seconds, abject panic coursed through my veins. On it went: the laying out of the dead. One, two, three, four . . .

Eight lifeless hands, palms facing down . . .

“Hold his hand, Edward . . .”

“Is it Jennie Hobbs?” I asked Poirot, as the blood pounded in my ears.

I should have listened to him about the danger. Why didn’t I take him seriously?

“I do not know. Ah! So you too know her name. Signor Lazzari sent a summons by telephone, since when I have been unable to contact him. Bon, here at last is the car.”

As I moved toward it, I felt myself pulled back. Blanche Unsworth was tugging at my coat sleeve. “Be careful at that hotel, won’t you, Mr. Catchpool. I couldn’t bear it if you were to come to any harm.”

“I shall, of course.”

Her face set in a ferocious grimace. “You shouldn’t have to go there, if you ask me. What was this fellow doing there anyway, the one that got himself killed this time? Three people have been murdered already at the Bloxham, and only last week! Why didn’t he go and stay somewhere else if he didn’t want the same to happen to him? It’s not right, him ignoring the danger signs and putting you to all this bother.”

“I shall say so to his corpse in no uncertain terms.” I reasoned to myself that if I smiled and said all the right words, I might soon feel more settled.

“Say something to the other guests while you’re about it,” Blanche advised. “Tell them I’ve two spare rooms here. It might not be as grand as the Bloxham, but everybody’s still alive when they wake up in the morning.”

“Catchpool, please hurry,” Poirot called from the car.

Hurriedly, I handed my cases to Blanche and did as I was told.

Once we were on our way, Poirot said, “I hoped very much to prevent a fourth murder, mon ami. I have failed.”

“I wouldn’t look at it that way,” I said.

“Non?”

“You did all you could. Just because the killer succeeded, it does not mean you failed.”

Poirot’s face was a mask of contempt. “If that is your opinion, then you must be every murderer’s favorite policeman. Of course I have failed!” He raised his hand to stop me from speaking. “Please, say no more absurd things. Tell me about your stay in Great Holling. What did you discover, apart from the surname of Jennie?”