Page:The Big Four (Christie).pdf/239

 “Poirot?” I murmured.

“You’re in my digs. Everything’s quite all right.”

A cold fear clutched at my heart. His evasion woke a horrible fear.

“Poirot?” I reiterated. “What of Poirot.”

He saw that I had to know and that further evasions were useless.

“By a miracle you escaped—Poirot—did not!”

A cry burst from my lips.

“Not dead? Not dead?”

Ridgeway bowed his head, his features working with emotion.

With desperate energy I pulled myself to a sitting position.

“Poirot may be dead,” I said weakly. “But his spirit lives on. I will carry on his work! Death to the Big Four!”

Then I fell back, fainting.