“ The destroyer ,” gasped the man. Then, with a final convulsed movement, he fell back in a dead faint.

“ Mon Dieu! ” whispered Poirot, “I was right then. I was right.”

“You think⁠—?”

He interrupted me.

“Carry him on to the bed in my room. I have not a minute to lose if I would catch my train. Not that I want to catch it. Oh, that I could miss it with a clear conscience! But I gave my word. Come, Hastings!”