"Sir Guy Willard?" I cried.
"No, Captain Hastings. My American colleague, Mr. Schneider."
"And the cause?" demanded Poirot.
"Tetanus."
I blanched. All around me I seemed to feel an atmosphere of evil, subtle and menacing. A horrible thought flashed across me. Supposing I were the next?
"Mon Dieu," said Poirot, in a very low voice, "I do not understand this. It is horrible. Tell me, monsieur, there is no doubt that it was tetanus?"
"I believe not. But Dr. Ames will tell you more than I can do."
"Ah, of course, you are not the doctor."
"My name is Tosswill."
This, then, was the British expert described by Lady Willard as being a minor official at the British Museum. There was something at once grave and steadfast about him that took my fancy.
"If you will come with me," continued Dr. Tosswill, "I will take you to Sir Guy Willard. He was most anxious to be informed as soon as you should arrive."
We were taken across the camp to a large
