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VIII. The Kidnapped Prime Minister

           Dodge.

           “ThisisDetectiveBarnes,ofScotlandYard,andMajorNorman.Theywillholdthemselvesentirelyatyourdisposal.Goodlucktoyou.It’sabadbusiness,butI’venotgivenuphope.Mustbeoffnow.”AndtheMinisterstroderapidlyaway.

           WechattedinadesultoryfashionwithMajorNorman.InthecentreofthelittlegroupofmenontheplatformIrecognizedalittleferret-facedfellowtalkingtoatall,fairman.HewasanoldacquaintanceofPoirot’s—Detective-InspectorJapp,supposedtobeoneofthesmartestofScotlandYard’sofficers.Hecameoverandgreetedmyfriendcheerfully.

           “Iheardyouwereonthisjobtoo.Smartbitofwork.Sofarthey’vegotawaywiththegoodsallright.ButIcan’tbelievetheycankeephimhiddenlong.OurpeoplearegoingthroughFrancewithatoothcomb.SoaretheFrench.Ican’thelpfeelingit’sonlyamatterofhoursnow.”

           “Thatis,ifhe’sstillalive,”remarkedthetalldetectivegloomily.

           Japp’sfacefell.“Yes....ButsomehowI’vegotthefeelinghe’saliveallright.”

           Poirotnodded.“Yes,yes;he’salive.Butcanhebefoundintime?I,likeyou,didnotbelievehecouldbehiddensolong.”

           Thewhistleblew,andwealltroopedupintothePullmancar.Then,withaslow,unwillingjerk,thetraindrewoutofthestation.

           Itwasacuriousjourney.TheScotlandYardmencrowdedtogether.MapsofNorthernFrancewerespreadout,andeagerforefingerstracedthelinesofroadsandvillages.Eachmanhadhisownpettheory.

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