"If only we are in time," she panted. "We must be out in the open before the explosion occurs."
Still we went on. I understood that this tunnel led right through the mountain and that we should finally emerge on the other side, facing a different valley. The sweat streamed down my face, but I raced on.
And then, far away, I saw a gleam of daylight. Nearer and nearer. I saw green bushes growing. We forced them aside, pushed our way through. We were in the open again, with the faint light of dawn making everything rosy.
Poirot's cordon was a reality. Even as we emerged, three men fell upon us, but released us again with a cry of astonishment.
"Quick," cried my companion. "Quick—there is no time to lose—"
But he was not destined to finish. The earth shook and trembled under our feet, there was a terrific roar and the whole mountain seemed to dissolve. We were flung headlong through the air.
I came to myself at last. I was in a strange bed and a strange room. Some one was sitting by the window. He turned and came and stood by me.
It was Achille Poirot—or, stay, was it—
The well-known ironical voice dispelled any doubts I might have had.