Page:The Big Four (Christie).pdf/14

4 arms he carried a small valise, which he dropped with a crash on beholding me.

“Mon ami, Hastings!” he cried. “Mon ami, Hastings!”

And, rushing forward, he enveloped me in a capacious embrace. Our conversation was incoherent and inconsequent. Ejaculations, eager questions, incomplete answers, messages from my wife, explanations as to my journey, were all jumbled up together.

“I suppose there’s some one in my old rooms?” I asked at last, when we had calmed down somewhat. “I’d love to put up here again with you.”

Poirot’s face changed with startling suddenness.

“Mon Dieu! but what a chance épouvantable. Regard around you, my friend.”

For the first time I took note of my surroundings. Against the wall stood a vast ark of a trunk of prehistoric design. Near to it were placed a number of suit-cases, ranged neatly in order of size from large to small. The inference was unmistakable.

“You are going away?”

“Yes.”

“Where to?”

“South America.”

“What?”