In another minute, Poirot stood by my side. He bowed to the lady.

“Hercule Poirot is not killed so easily, madame. I wish you good night.”

The gag prevented her from replying, but the murderous gleam in her eyes frightened me. I hoped devoutly that we should never fall into her power again.

Three minutes later we were outside the villa, and hurriedly traversing the garden. The road outside was deserted, and we were soon clear of the neighbourhood.

Then Poirot broke out.