In a few words Poirot explained the situation.
Dr Lutz said: 'Marrascaud? I read about the case in the paper. I should much like to meet that man. There is some deep abnormality there! I should like to know the particulars of his childhood.'
'For myself,' said Hercule Poirot, 'I should like to know exactly where he is at this minute.'
Schwartz said: 'Isn't he one of the three we locked in the cupboard?'
Poirot said in a dissatisfied voice: 'It is possible – yes, but me, I am not sure… I have an idea -'
He broke off, staring down at the carpet. It was of a light buff colour and there were marks on it of a deep rusty brown.
Hercule Poirot said: 'Footsteps – footsteps that have trodden, I think, in blood and they lead from the unused wing of the hotel. Come – we must be quick!'
They followed him, through a swing door and along a dim, dusty corridor. They turned the corner of it, still following the marks on the carpet until the tracks led them to a half-open doorway.
Poirot pushed the door open and entered.
He uttered a sharp, horrified exclamation.
The room was a bedroom. The bed had been slept in and there was a tray of food on the table.
In the middle of the floor lay the body of a man. He was of just over middle height and he had been attacked with savage and unbelievable ferocity. There were a dozen wounds on his arms and chest and his head and face had been battered almost to a pulp.
Schwartz gave a half-stifled exclamation and turned away looking as though he might be sick.
Dr Lutz uttered a horrified exclamation in German.
Schwartz said faintly: 'Who is this guy? Does anyone know?'
'I fancy,' said Poirot, 'that he was known here as Robert, a rather unskilful waiter.'
Lutz had gone nearer, bending over the body. He pointed with a finger.
There was a paper pinned to the dead man's breast. It had some words scrawled on it in ink.
Marrascaud will kill no more – nor will he rob his friends!
Schwartz ejaculated: 'Marrascaud? So this is Marrascaud! But what brought him up here to this out of the way spot? And why do you say his name is Robert?'
Poirot said: 'He was here masquerading as a waiter – and by all accounts he was a very bad waiter. So bad that no one was surprised when he was given the sack. He left – presumably to return to Andermatt. But nobody saw him go.'
Lutz said in his low rumbling voice: 'So – and what do you think happened?'
Poirot replied: 'I think we have here the explanation of a certain worried expression on the hotel manager's face. Marrascaud must have offered him a big bribe to allow him to remain hidden in the unused part of the hotel…'
He added thoughtfully: 'But the manager was not happy about it. Oh no, he was not happy at all.'
'And Marrascaud continued to live in this unused wing with no one but the manager knowing about it?'
'So it seems. It would be quite possible, you know.'
Dr Lutz said: 'And why was he killed? And who killed him?'
Schwartz cried: 'That's easy. He was to share out the money with his gang. He didn't. He double-crossed them. He came here, to this out of the way place, to lie low for a while. He thought it was the last place in the world they'd ever think of. He was wrong. Somehow or other they got wise to it and followed him.' He touched the dead body with the tip of his shoe. 'And they settled his account – like this.'
Hercule Poirot murmured: 'Yes, it was not quite the kind of rendezvous we thought.'
Dr Lutz said irritably: 'These hows and whys may be very interesting, but I am concerned with our present position. Here we have a dead man. I have a sick man on my hands and a limited amount of medical supplies. And we are cut off from the world! For how long?'
Schwartz added: 'And we've got three murderers locked in a cupboard! It's what I'd call kind of an interesting situation.'
Dr Lutz said: 'What do we do?'
Poirot said: 'First, we get hold of the manager. He is not a criminal, that one, only a man who was greedy for money. He is a coward, too. He will do everything we tell him. My good friend Jacques, or his wife, will perhaps provide some cord. Our three miscreants must be placed where we can guard them in safety until the day when help comes. I think that Mr Schwartz's automatic will be effective in carrying out any plans we may make.'
Dr Lutz said: 'And I? What do I do?'
'You, doctor?' said Poirot gravely, 'will do all you can for your patient. The rest of us will employ ceaseless vigilance – and wait. There is nothing else we can do.'
VI
It was three days later that a little party of men appeared in front of the hotel in the early hours of the morning.
It was Hercule Poirot who opened the front door to them with a flourish.
'Welcome, mon vieux.'
Monsieur Lementeuil, Commissaire of Police, seized Poirot by both hands.
'Ah, my friend, with what emotion I greet you! What stupendous events – what emotions you have passed through! And we below, our anxiety, our fears – knowing nothing – fearing everything. No wireless – no means of communication. To heliograph, that was indeed a stroke of genius on your part.'
'No, no,' Poirot endeavoured to look modest. 'After all, when the inventions of man fail, one falls back upon nature. There is always the sun in the sky.'
The little party filed into the hotel.
Lementeuil said: 'We are not expected?' His smile was somewhat grim.
Poirot smiled also. He said: 'But no! It is believed that the funicular is not nearly repaired yet.'
Lementeuil said with emotion: 'Ah, this is a great day. There is no doubt, you think? It is really Marrascaud?'
'It is Marrascaud all right. Come with me.'
They went up the stairs. A door opened and Schwartz came out in his dressing-gown. He stared when he saw the men.
'I heard voices,' he explained. 'Why, what's this?'
Hercule Poirot said grandiloquently: 'Help has come! Accompany us, monsieur. This is a great moment.'
He started up the next flight of stairs.
Schwartz said: 'Are you going up to Drouet? How is he, by the way?'
'Dr Lutz reported him going well last night.'
They came to the door of Drouet's room. Poirot flung it open. He announced: 'Here is your wild boar, gentlemen. Take him alive and see to it that he does not cheat the guillotine.'
The man in the bed, his face still bandaged, started up. But the police officers had him by the arms before he could move.
Schwartz cried bewildered: 'But that's Gustave the waiter – that's Inspector Drouet.'
'It is Gustave, yes – but it is not Drouet. Drouet was the first waiter, the waiter Robert who was imprisoned in the unused part of the hotel and whom Marrascaud killed the same night as the attack was made on me.'
VII
Over breakfast, Poirot explained gently to the bewildered American.
'You comprehend, there are certain things one knows – knows quite certainly in the course of one's
