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 “You mean?” asked Crowther, impressed in spite of himself by the gravity of Poirot’s tone.

“I mean, monsieur, that since I have penetrated the identity of Number Four, my life is not worth an hour’s purchase. He will seek to destroy me at all costs—and not for nothing is he named ‘The Destroyer.’ Messieurs, I salute you. To you, M. Crowther, I deliver this key, and this sealed envelope. I have got together all my notes on the case, and my ideas as to how best to meet the menace that any day may break upon the world, and have placed them in a certain safe deposit. In the event of my death, M. Crowther, I authorise you to take charge of those papers and make what use you can of them. And now, messieurs, I wish you good day.”

Desjardeaux merely bowed coldly, but Crowther sprang up and held out his hand.

“You have converted me, M. Poirot. Fantastic as the whole thing seems, I believe utterly in the truth of what you have told us.”

Ingles left at the same time as we did.

“I am not disappointed with the interview,” said Poirot, as we walked along. “I did not expect to convince Desjardeaux, but I have at least ensured that, if I die, my knowledge does