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Unformatted text preview: uot;I think it's the Russian woman — but
we've no evidence. A few weeks ago we
thought we were getting somewhere. Varesco
went to the Golconda place, picked up
some stones there and went straight from
there to Hell. Stevens was watching him,
but he didn't actually see him pass the
stuff. When Varesco left we picked him
up — the stones weren't on him. We raided
the club, rounded up everybody! Result,
no stones, no dope!"
"A fiasco, in fact?" Japp winced. "You're telling me! Might
have got in a bit of a jam, but luckily in the
round up we got Peverel (you know, the
Battersea murderer). Pure luck, he was
supposed to have got away to Scotland.
One of our smart sergeants spotted him
from his photos. So all's well that ends
well — kudos for us — terrific boost for
the club — it's been more packed than ever
"But it does not advance the dope
inquiry. There is, perhaps, a place of
concealment on the premises ?"
"Must be. But we couldn't find it. Went
over the place with a toothcomb. And
between you and me, there's been an
unofficial search as well — " he winked.
"Strictly on the QT. Spot of breaking and
entering. Not a success, our 'unofficial'
man nearly got torn to pieces by that ruddy
great dog! It sleeps on the premises."
"Aha, Cerberus ?"
"Yes. Silly name for a dog -- to call it
after a packet of salt." "Cerberus," murmured Poirot thoughtfully. "Suppose you try your hand at it, Poirot," suggested Japp. "It's a pretty
problem and worth doing. I hate the drug
racket, destroys people body and soul.
That really is Hell if you like!"
Poirot murmured meditatively: "It
would round off things--yes. Do you
know what the twelfth labour of Hercules
^The Capture of Cerberus. It is appropriate,
is it not ?"
"Don't know what you're talking about, old man, but remember: ^Dog eats Man9 is news." And Japp
leaned back roaring
"I wish to speak to you with the utmost
seriousness," said Poirot.
The hour was early, the Club as yet
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