"There may be something in what you say, M. Poirot," he said coldly.
"But as regards Madame Olivier, you are most certainly mistaken. She is
a true daughter of France, and devoted solely to the cause of science."
Poirot shrugged his shoulders and did not answer.
There was a minute or two's pause, and then my little friend rose to
his feet, with an air of dignity that sat rather oddly upon his quaint
personality.
"That is all I have to say, messieurs--to warn you. I thought it
likely that I should not be believed. But at least you will be on your
guard. My words will sink in, and each fresh event that comes along
will confirm your wavering faith. It was necessary for me to speak
now--later I might not have been able to do so."
"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 not die with me. And I have
made one or two converts. _Pas si mal!_"
"I'm with you, as you know," said Ingles. "By the way, I'm going out to
China as soon as I can get off."
"Is that wise?"
"No," said Ingles dryly. "But it's necessary. One must do what one can."
"Ah, you are a brave man!" cried Poirot with emotion. "If we were not
in the street, I would embrace you."