And in the grate were the identical four knobs of coal I had carefully spilt there.
Poirot had followed my glance.
"But yes, that was a famous idea of yours - that and the books.
See you, if they should say to me any time,
'That friend of yours, that Hastings, he has not the great brain, is it not so?' I shall reply to them:
'You are in error.'
It was an idea magnificent and superb that occurred to you there."
"You understood their meaning then?"
"Am I an imbecile?
Of course I understood.
It gave me just the warning I needed, and the time to mature my plans.
Somehow or other the Big Four had carried you off.
With what object?
Clearly not for your beaux yeux - equally clearly not because they feared you and wanted to get you out of the way.
No, their object was plain.
You would be used as a decoy to get the great Hercule Poirot into their clutches.
I have long been prepared for something of the kind.
I make my little preparations, and presently, sure enough, the messenger arrives - such an innocent little street urchin.
Me, I swallow everything, and hasten away with him, and, very fortunately, they permit you to come out on the doorstep.
That was my one fear, that I should have to dispose of them before I had reached the place where you were concealed, and that I should have to search for you - perhaps in vain - afterwards."
"Dispose of them, did you say?" I asked feebly. "Single-handed?"
"Oh, there is nothing very clever about that.
If one is prepared in advance all is simple - the motto of the Boy Scout, is it not?
And a very fine one.
Me, I was prepared.
Not so long ago, I rendered a service to a very famous chemist, who did a lot of work in connection with poison gas during the war.
He devised for me a little bomb - simple and easy to carry about - one has but to throw it and poof, the smoke - and then the unconsciousness.
Immediately I blow a little whistle and straightway some of Japp's clever fellows who were watching the house here long before the boy arrived, and who managed to follow us all the way to Limehouse, came flying up and took charge of the situation."
"But how was it you weren't unconscious too?"
"Another piece of luck.
Our friend Number Four (who certainly composed that ingenious letter) permitted himself a little jest at my moustaches, which rendered it extremely easy for me to adjust my respirator under the guise of a yellow muffler."
"I remember," I cried eagerly, and then with the word "Remember" all the ghastly horror that I had temporarily forgotten came back to me.
Cinderella - I fell back with a groan.
I must have lost consciousness again for a minute or two.
I awoke to find Poirot forcing some brandy between my lips.
"What is it, mon ami?
But what is it - then?
Tell me."
Word by word, I got the thing told, shuddering as I did so.
Poirot uttered a cry.
"My friend!
My friend!
But what you must have suffered!
And I who knew nothing of all this!
But reassure yourself.
All is well!"
"You will find her, you mean?
But she is in South America.
And by the time we get there - long before, she will be dead - and God knows how and in what horrible way she will have died."
"No, no, you do not understand.