Page:The Big Four (Christie).pdf/191

 It was Poirot, coming to my aid in all good faith, suspecting nothing amiss. By his side ran a typical London urchin, grimy of face and ragged of apparel.

Poirot paused, looking across at the house, whilst the boy spoke to him eagerly and pointed. It was the time for me to act. I went out in the hall. At a sign from the tall Chinaman, one of the servants unlatched the door.

“Remember the price of failure,” said my enemy in a low voice.

I was outside on the steps. I beckoned to Poirot. He hastened across.

“Aha! So all is well with you, my friend. I was beginning to be anxious. You managed to get inside? Is the house empty, then?”

“Yes,” I said, in a voice I strove to make natural. “There must be a secret way out of it somewhere. Come in and let us look for it.”

I stepped back across the threshold. In all innocence Poirot prepared to follow me.

And then something seemed to snap in my head. I saw only too clearly the part I was playing—the part of Judas.

“Back, Poirot!" I cried. “Back for your life. It’s a trap. Never mind me. Get away at once.”