He hung up the receiver, and turned to me.
"You heard, Hastings? There has been no escape."
"But the man who came—the keeper?" I said.
"I wonder—I very much wonder."
"You mean—?"
"Number Four—the destroyer."
I gazed at Poirot dumbfounded. A minute or two after, on recovering my voice, I said:—
"We shall know him again, anywhere, that's one thing. He was a man of very pronounced personality."
"Was he, mon ami? I think not. He was burly and bluff and red-faced, with a thick moustache and a hoarse voice. He will be none of those things by this time, and for the rest, he has nondescript eyes, nondescript ears, and a perfect set of false teeth. Identification is not such an easy matter as you seem to think. Next time—"
"You think there will be a next time?" I interrupted.