XVIII

“Yes,” said Achille Poirot gravely. “I realize that. It is you who do not realize that a man may be willing to purchase success by his life. There were men who laid down their lives for their country in the war. I am prepared to lay down mine in the same way for the world.”

It struck me just then that although perfectly willing to lay down my life I might have been consulted in the matter. Then I remembered how Poirot had urged me to stay behind, and I felt appeased.

“And in what way will your laying down your life benefit the world?” asked Ryland sardonically.

“I see that you do not perceive the true inwardness of Hercule’s plan. To begin with, your place of retreat was known some months ago, and practically all the visitors, hotel assistants, and others are detectives or Secret Service men. A cordon has been drawn round the mountain. You may have more than one means of egress, but even so you cannot escape. Poirot himself is directing the operations outside. My boots were smeared with a preparation of aniseed tonight, before I came down to the terrace in my brother’s place. Hounds are following the trail. It will lead them infallibly to the rock in the Felsenlabyrynth where the entrance is situated. You see, do what you will to us, the net is drawn tightly round you. You cannot escape.”

Madame Olivier laughed suddenly.

“You are wrong. There is one way we can escape, and, like Samson, of old, destroy our enemies at the same time. What do you say, my friends?”

Ryland was staring at Achille Poirot.

“Suppose he’s lying,” he said hoarsely.

The other shrugged his shoulders.