The following day saw us installed in our temporary home. The flat was pleasantly furnished. It occupied the same position in the building as that of the Robinsons, but was two floors higher.
The day after our installation was a Sunday. In the afternoon, Poirot left the front door ajar, and summoned me hastily as a bang reverberated from somewhere below.
"Look over the banisters. Are those your friends. Do not let them see you."
I craned my neck over the staircase.
"That's them," I declared in an ungrammatical whisper.
"Good. Wait awhile."
About half an hour later, a young woman emerged in brilliant and varied clothing. With a sigh of satisfaction, Poirot tiptoed back into the flat.
"C'est ça. After the master and mistress, the maid. The flat should now be empty."
"What are we going to do?" I asked uneasily.
Poirot had trotted briskly into the scullery and was hauling at the rope of the coal-lift.
"We are about to descend after the method
