“You are very clever, M. Achille Poirot,” she said mockingly.
“Madame, let us talk business. It is fortunate that they have left us alone together. What is your price?”
“I do not understand. What price?”
“Madame, you can aid us to escape. You know the secret ways out of this retreat. I ask you, what is your price?”
She laughed again.
“More than you could pay, little man! Why, all the money in the world would not buy me!”
“Madame, I did not speak of money. I am a man of intelligence. Nevertheless, this is a true fact—every one has his price! In exchange for life and liberty, I offer you your heart’s desire.”
“So you are a magician!”
“You can call me so if you like.”
The countess suddenly dropped her jesting manner. She spoke with passionate bitterness.
“Fool! My heart’s desire! Can you give me revenge upon my enemies? Can you give me back youth and beauty and a gay heart? Can you bring the dead to life again?”
Achille Poirot was watching her very curiously.
