I came to myself to find the familiar face of our old friend Dr.
Ridgeway bending over me. An expression of relief passed over his
features.
"Keep still," he said soothingly. "You're all right. There's been an
accident, you know."
"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.