REPORTER: 'The Pyramids of Egypt.

'The last surviving of the Seven Wonders of the World.

'The latest expedition by famous archaeologist Sir John Willard 'may soon reveal more of this ancient world's mysteries 'with the discovery of the tomb of Egyptian King Men-her-Ra.

'No doubt there will be rivalry 'between Dr Fosswell of the British Museum 'and Dr Schneider of the Metropolitan Museum of New York.

'But keep it friendly, eh, chaps?

'The local workers fear of a death curse, 'laid down on the tomb over 3,000 years ago... 'hasn't scared off expedition financier Felix Bleibner.

'He's been joined for the opening by his nephew Rupert 'and secretary Nigel Harper, 'photographing the occasion.

Smile, Men-her-Ra!'

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS It's gonna take us some time to get the seal off intact, Sir John.

No, no!

Break the seal!

FELIX BLEIBNER: It'll only take five minutes, John.

For God's sake, Mr Bleibner!

That seal hasn't been broken for over 3,000 years.

Then it's time it was.

Gentlemen, the burial chamber of King Men-her-Ra.

HE GASPS MAN: Dr Ames, quickly!

He's ill!

HE PANTS HE GROANS RADIO BEEPING REPORTER: 'Tragedy strikes in the Valley of the Kings.

'Just minutes after breaking into 'the ancient tomb of Egyptian pharaoh Men-her-Ra, 'eminent archaeologist Sir John Willard 'is struck down by a fatal heart attack.

'Local rumours of an ancient curse 'on all those who enter the tomb 'have been dismissed as preposterous.'

DOOR CLOSES FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING Any messages, Miss Lemon?

No, Mr Poirot, no.

Oh, yes, one.

Lady Willard telephoned.

She wants to consult you.

Huh?

I know.

Isn't it awful?

Does seem almost as if something were avenging itself for desecrating the tomb.

Bonjour, mademoiselle.

I am expected.

WOMAN: Do come in.

Thank you.

Merci.

My son has always been against my calling on your assistance, Monsieur Poirot.

He thinks I'm listening to all this silly talk about a curse.

But my husband's death came as a very great shock to me.

POIROT: Yes, of course.

And now my son wishes to go out to Egypt to continue his father's work.

Ah.

LADY WILLARD: I cannot tell you why, Monsieur Poirot, but this whole enterprise has filled me with foreboding.

It's all those Americans.

All those young men from Yale.

Seems they've been trying to take over the dig right from the start.

Mother, really!

Mr Bleibner put up the money for the entire show, and without him, there wouldn't be any dig.

I never trusted Felix Bleibner.

He's just a wealthy dabbler.

I see he's got his nephew up in there, too.

Rupert's only there to visit his uncle.

Excuse me, Lady Willard.

How may I be of service to you?

I imagine that there is no doubt that your husband was from the causes quite natural.

Well, I... SIR GUY: No doubt at all.

I'm so sorry.

It appears we've wasted your time... Mr Poirot.

INDISTINCT CHATTER DOG BARKING I gave him a thorough examination before we came out here.

His heart was sound as a bell.

It is, eh, weird, though, isn't it?

I mean, just the very instant the burial chamber was opened?

I don't care about any rotten curse.

I'm off to New York on Thursday.

- When's the happy day?

- Fourteenth of next month.

Unless Bob saves my life again.

HE LAUGHS He really did save my life once, you know?

No kidding?

I can save you from poor seamanship, Rupert, but I'm no good on impending marriages.

LAUGHTER You three were together at Yale.

Right?

God, does that seem an age ago.

Who's going to take over the excavation, do you think?

Well, that kinda depends on your uncle.

He is the money.

Do I get the impression that Dr Fosswell would not be averse?

Sure, the British Museum has got to be in the running.

What about the Metropolitan?

Oh, modesty forbids.

LAUGHTER HE EXHALES Isn't it time you people were in bed?

Want to join us, Uncle?

No, no.

I just can't sleep.

Could you have a look at this thumb in the morning?

I'll have a look at it right now if you like, Mr Bleibner, before I go to bed.

It's a... a cut I got the other day.

OK.

Good night, gentlemen.

Miss Lemon, if you please, would you come through for a moment with your notepad and pencil?

I want that you send a telegram to the Assistant Commissioner Bergman... ..in the police department of New York.

Please supply all available biographical material on Monsieur Rupert Bleibner, nephew to the wealthy Monsieur Felix Bleibner.

Best wishes.

Hercule Poirot.

I could say "biog".

Comment?

Instead of "biographical", I could say "biog".

Is that a word, Miss Lemon?

It sounds efficient.

I heard someone say it in a picture.

"Gimme da biog on Dutch Schultz, Miss Longfellow."

"Biographical material" will do very nicely, thank you, Miss Lemon.

- Oh!

- What is it, Miss Lemon?

There's no need for you to cable Assistant Commissioner Bergman.

Why is that, Miss Lemon?

You can cable Captain Hastings instead.

But Captain Hastings, he is in California, Miss Lemon.

No.

He's on his way back.

He's staying in New York until Friday.

DOORBELL RINGS DOORBELL RINGS Who is it?

Oh, it's Arthur Hastings, actually.

Who?

Arthur Hastings.

I'm a friend of your uncle's.

Well, more of an acquaintance, really.

He said I should look you up.

Uncle Felix?

Yes.

You went out to Egypt to visit him recently, I gather.

How do you know him?

How?

Oh, er... Well, just as one does, you know.

Just socially.

How did you find it out there?

Egypt, I mean.

Hot.

Look, erm, Mr... Hastings, I guess I'm not feeling all that sociable today.

No, no, no.

I quite understand.

Goodbye.

RUPERT: Nice to meet you.

Look in again sometime.

HE GASPS Thank you.

Yes, I'll have tea and porridge and bacon and eggs, please.

Eggs over easy?

Er, no.

The other.

Two eggs, sunny side up?

Canadian bacon?

- Oh, yes, thank you.

INDISTINCT CHATTER HASTINGS: Good Lord.

Felix Bleibner is dead?

He died three days ago.

I'm sorry.

I thought you already knew.

It was horrible.

The most horrible death.

He was blind at the end.

SIR GUY: Where's the doctor?

Dr Ames.

I'll take you to him.

HARPER: Now, mind the legs.

THUD Mind the legs!

Wouldn't it be better to wrap it?

No, no, I don't think so.

It's better they be able to see what they're moving.

Dr Ames, can I trouble you a moment?

This is Sir Guy Willard, Sir John's son.

- Dr Ames, how do you do?

- Hello.

And this is Mr Harper and Dr Schneider.

- Dr Schneider.

- Hi.

Sir Guy has come to take charge of the excavation.

Dr Ames, I'm devastated by the news of Mr Bleibner.

It was septicaemia.

Yes, but how did it start?

HARPER: A scratch on his thumb.

Nothing we could do seemed to stop it.

Dr Ames amputated his left arm last week, but... Amputated?

Why was I not informed?

Well, I... we weren't aware you were involved.

SIR GUY: Well, I am involved.

The British Museum agreed that I should take over the excavation.

But surely Mr Bleibner's death changes the situation.

Well, indeed it does, Dr Schneider.

I suggest we carry on as we are until the wishes of Mr Bleibner's estate are known.

In the meantime, perhaps you'd be good enough to show me to my quarters, Dr Fosswell.

Gentlemen.

DOORBELL RINGS Mr Bleibner?

Mr Bleibner?

TELEPHONIST: 'Switchboard.'

- Give me the police.

SHIP HORN BLOWS SEAGULLS SQUAWKING SHIP HORN BLOWS POIROT: It came as a big surprise to everyone?

Absolutely.

No-one can understand it.

They see no earthly reason why he should have killed himself.

He was only 30.

POIROT: His health, it was good?

Fit as a flea, it appears.

Something of a sportsman, too, as a matter of fact.

Played football at school.

Held some sort of local record for the 100 yards.

Good golfer.

Played off scratch.

Playing the good golf is no reason not to commit suicide.

You just don't understand golf, Poirot.

What was his livelihood?

Well, up until about six months ago, he'd been in Hawaii, learning the hotel business.

Did he have any problems emotionable?

Oh, girls, you mean?

Good Lord, no.

He was all set to marry this absolute corker, Melanie Wise.

Then he goes and shoots himself.

Mind you, the first time I saw him, he did seem very... well, abstracted.

It was halfway through the afternoon, and he was still in his pyjamas.

Looked as if he hadn't washed for a week, too.

Oh, and he was wearing white gloves.

White gloves?

Yes, you know, white cotton gloves.

Did he have any problems over money?

None at all, as far as I could tell.

Even less when old Bleibner died.

The Bleibner millions came to him.

I say, that's a point.

I wonder who'll get the money now?

Oh.

He left a note, you know.

No, Hastings, I did not know.

HASTINGS: I made a copy of it.

"There is no point in going on.

I am a leper, an outcast.

"It's better that I should end my life now "than bring misery to the people I love.

"Rupert Bleibner."

INDISTINCT CHATTER DR AMES: You didn't look well at breakfast, Schneider.

Does it hurt here?

A little.

If I move your arm like this, does that hurt?

No, but there's a sort of dull ache, though, around my shoulders and neck all the time.

Do you have any trouble swallowing?

Well, as a matter of fact, I do.

It started a few days ago.

How'd you know that?

CAMEL GRUNTING - Hassan!

- Oh, Dr Ames.

Yes?

I'm driving to Cairo, to the British Hospital.

I've got to persuade them to give me some antitoxic serum.

When will you be back, sir?

Well, by Friday, I hope, if I drive day and night.

Be careful, sir.

Oh, and, Hassan, try and get through to Cairo by telephone.

Let them know I'm on my way.

Thank you.

LADY WILLARD: It goes on, Monsieur Poirot.

First my husband... then Mr Bleibner... ..then his nephew... Try to continue, Lady Willard.

Suppose there is some truth in this talk about a curse?

Tell me what has happened.

Mr Schneider... of the Metropolitan Museum of New York... ..is very ill with tetanus.

My son just sent me this telegram.

SHE SOBS I'm sorry.

You must think it very silly and superstitious.

No, no, not at all, Lady Willard.

I also believe in the force of superstition.

It is one of the greatest forces that the world has ever known.

And you wish that Poirot should protect your son against these forces.

Is it possible?

But first, I must allow to do their work, the little grey cells.

DOOR SHUTS HASTINGS: You're not pushing it, are you?

MISS LEMON: Of course, I'm not pushing it.

What's it writing?

I can't see.

I can't make it out.

It seems to have stopped.

Let's see what it's written.

HASTINGS: Can't make it out.

MISS LEMON: Yes!

There's a "C", that's an "L".

It's not very clear.

It's definitely trying to say something, though.

Perhaps it's not writing in English.

Looks like Arabic.

I say!

- What?

Suppose it's King Men-her-Ra trying to get through?

DOOR OPENS Miss Lem... Hastings, what means this with the planchette?

Oh, we're just fooling around.

It's interesting, though.

This could be from King Men-her-Ra.

Hastings, please, pull yourself together.

We have business to which we must attend.

Tomorrow, we fly to Cairo.

Cairo?

- In Egypt, Hastings.

- I know, but... And thence, to the Valley of the Kings.

HE GROANS His jaw's broken.

Broken?

The muscles contract so violently it breaks the bones.

God.

Is there anything we can do?

He's not responding to the serum.

POIROT COUGHS Mon Dieu!

HE COUGHS - You must be Monsieur Poirot.

- What is left of him, yes.

I'm Leonard Fosswell, British Museum.

Ah.

Monsieur Fosswell.

We got Lady Willard's cable.

I'm sorry.

This isn't a good time.

Now, let me show you to your tent.

Won't mind sharing, will you?

- No, not at all.

I'm Arthur Hastings, by the way.

Lady Willard said you'd be coming.

Hassan will assign one of the fellahin to look after you, get you hot water, and so on.

Oh, this looks fine.

HE COUGHS Tell me, Dr Fosswell... ..why is this not a good time?

- It's Dr Schneider.

- He has the malady, yes?

He's... SCHNEIDER SCREAMING HE GRUNTS Can't stand much more of this.

He's not responding?

No.

He seems to be getting worse.

Oh, God, no.

- Who is it?

SIR GUY: That detective my mother's so keen on.

Sir Guy.

Uh... ..he's dead.

And you are quite sure, are you not, Dr Ames, that the death of Monsieur Schneider was caused... by tetanus?

Sure.

It could not have been a case of the strychnine poisoning?

Strychnine?

DR AMES: No, Monsieur Poirot.

There's been no suggestion of anything like that.

This was a clear case of tetanus.

Did you inject anti-serum?

SIR GUY: Of course we did!

Every conceivable thing that could be done was done.

But Monsieur Bleibner now... he died of something completely different?

Mr Bleibner had a scratch on his thumb.

It became poisoned, and septicaemia set in.

It sounds pretty much the same to a layman, I imagine, but the two things are entirely different.

MAN CHANTING PRAYERS IN ARABIC You must ask us any questions you need to, Monsieur Poirot.

We're all dumbfounded by this series of disasters.

But it isn't... It can't be anything but coincidence.

I see.

And you are determined, Sir Guy, to continue with this excavation?

Monsieur Poirot... no matter what happens, my father's work is going on.

I see.

Alors, evidemment we must find out exactly what is the position here.

Alabaster perfume box.

Height seven and a half inches, depth five and a quarter inches.

Sniff.

POIROT SNIFFS Ah.

Jasmine.

HARPER: Three-thousand-year-old jasmine.

How long have you been interested in Egyptology, Monsieur Harper?

Oh, ever since I started working as Mr Bleibner's secretary Ever since college almost.

You were at Yale with Rupert Bleibner?

I was there on a Hendrickson Exchange Scholarship.

Ames was with us, too.

All Yalies, you see.

Class of '27.

That is most interesting.

There are four people involved in this expedition who have known each other for some considerable time.

Dr Ames, Rupert Bleibner, yourself, all together at college.

And, of course, the uncle of Rupert Bleibner.

HARPER: That's right.

Two of them are now dead.

You trying to give me the creeps?

HE CHUCKLES Tell me about Monsieur Rupert.

I really don't understand him doing what he did.

When he first arrived here... ..he was in good health?

HARPER CHUCKLES Yes, I don't think he'd had a day's real illness his entire life.

Terrible hypochondriac, though.

Always got a lot of little aches and pains he was always worrying about.

But when last you saw him, he was not suffering?

No.

I don't remember anything in particular.

Oh, well, yes.

He had a little eczema on his hand he was making a great to-do about.

Master, I must speak with you.

Oh.

Right.

Good evening.

I served my lord, Sir John, and now I serve his son.

Yes, quite.

You are a wise one, they say.

Well, you know.

And learnt in dealing with evil spirits.

I beg of you, let the young master depart from here.

There is evil in the air around us.

Well, eh, it's not really up to me.

You see... We have had four deaths, all totally dissimilar.

One heart failure, one poisoning, one tetanus and one suicide.

MAN: Exactly.

Is there nothing which might link together these four?

Something they have in common?

No.

I'm sorry, Mr Poirot, I don't quite understand this.

Then, Monsieur Harper, let me make myself perfectly clear.

Was there any act committed by these men, these victims, which might seem to denote some disrespect to the spirit of Men-her-Ra?

Good grief, man, that is all rot, as well you know!

You're talking through your hat!

You do not believe that such a thing is possible?

No, I do not!

We're men of science, and I believe what science teaches.

Indeed.

Was there no science then in ancient Egypt?

Oh, no, please, do not answer, but tell me this... ..the native workmen, what do they think?

If the white folk lose their heads, then the natives aren't gonna be far behind.

Yes, I'll admit they're getting scared, but they've got no cause to be!

Excuse me.

I'm... MAN: Ames, are you all right?

HE GROANS, CUTLERY CLATTERS - Good heavens.

- Hassan.

Help me get him to his tent.

- Would a brandy help?

No, I don't think so.

We'll get him to bed.

Good Lord.

Poor fellow.

INDISTINCT CHATTER HORSE WHINNIES CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS MAN: Tell me when you want another photograph.

Not yet.

Did you know, Monsieur Poirot, that a wreath of flowers from the funeral ceremony was still lying on the antechamber floor when my father opened the tomb?

- Oh.

Amazing, is it not, Hastings?

- Absolutely.

How is Dr Ames today?

He's still not well.

He got up today.

To tell the truth, I'm rather worried about him.

DR FOSSWELL: I think we're ready.

Lift away, then.

Tie off.

Good God!

POIROT: He has lain here in perfect silence... since a thousand years before Troy was besieged.

Rome rose and fell.

Wars and catastrophes changed the face of the earth.

And still, this king, he waited.

Forgotten by all those people a few feet above.

TYPEWRITER CLACKING POIROT: Dr Fosswell!

Come.

TYPEWRITER CLACKING What a moment, Dr Fosswell, eh?

What?

To have had the privilege of merely standing by as the lid of the sarcophagus, it was opened.

Oh, yes!

I'm just writing it up.

Oh, you write the reports for the expedition, n'est-ce pas?

For the expedition?

No, by no means.

A daily report for the eyes of Sir Andrew Cairns only.

Oh.

May I?

- Please.

Thank you.

Now, Sir Andrew Cairns.

He is the Keeper of Antiquities at the British Museum, n'est-ce pas?

Quite.

The others can do their own reports, though frankly... Well, no matter.

And Monsieur Schneider, when he was alive... ..he would have made the reports for the Metropolitan Museum?

DR FOSSWELL: I suppose so, yes.

I mean, I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but it does just show the quality of their scholarship, doesn't it, when the Metropolitan have to send out somebody like Schneider?

Poor fellow.

The BM would never have sent anyone but their most senior archaeologist.

And the future Keeper of Antiquities, perhaps?

What?

Oh, I don't know about that.

Of course, Sir Andrew is due to retire in two years, and if I make a fair fist of this, well... MOSQUITO BUZZING Oh, you're in bed.

This is a work most interesting, Hastings.

Listen to this.

"May your knives not get hold of me, "may my hands not touch the poison.

"May I not fall into your slaughterhouse, "for I know your names, and my heart is with Osiris."

Look here, Poirot, are you feeling all right?

POIROT: Perfectly, Hastings.

I mean, you've had a lot of sun these last few days.

You're not used to it like I am.

I am perfectly well, thank you, Hastings.

Hastings, what is the matter with Miss Lemon?

Miss Lemon?

Nothing, as far as I know.

Come, Hastings.

Do not do the shilly-shally with me.

Yourself play with her on the planchette.

Well, I think it's her cat.

You know, the one she used to call Catherine the Grate because it slept in the fireplace.

That cat, it died, did it not?

Well, exactly.

She's fearfully cut up about it.

I think she's trying to get in touch with it.

- Oh.

- I mean, I think it's... Hastings, look!

Good God!

POIROT: "Deliver me from that god "whose face is that of a hound... "..but whose skin is that of a man, "who liveth upon the damned, "..digesting human hearts and voiding filth.

"One seeth him not."

INDISTINCT CHATTER IN ARABIC HE GROANS INDISTINCT CHATTER IN ARABIC Hastings!

What are you doing?

I'm having my siesta.

No, no, no, Hastings.

Get up.

We have work to do.

Come.

WORKERS SPEAKING IN ARABIC Whose tent is this, Hastings?

Er... Dr Ames'.

Bon.

You must remain here on guard, my friend, while I make the search.

- Search?

Oh, no!

WHISPERS: Poirot!

Poirot!

Well, well, well!

I beg your pardon?

Feeling a bit better, are you, Dr Ames?

Are you waiting for me?

No, no, no.

I was, eh... I was waiting for Poirot, actually.

You haven't seen him at all, have you?

Wasn't he with you this morning?

DR AMES: Yes, he was, but that was a while ago.

HASTINGS: I don't know where he's got to.

Poirot!

- Er, can I come past?

- What?

I want to go to my tent.

Oh, this is your tent, is it?

I didn't realise that.

They're very good, these tents, aren't they?

Please, Captain Hastings.

HASTINGS: Poirot, you really are the limit!

Regarde, Hastings, the sand, it gets everywhere!

Ames must think I'm an idiot.

Plenty of sand in Belgium, isn't there?

Not in Brussels, Hastings.

TELEPHONE RINGING Hello, Miss Lemon!

Can you hear me?

Yes, I've found Mr Bleibner's solicitor.

I spoke to him.

One moment, if you please, Miss Lemon!

GOAT BLEATING CHICKENS CLUCKING Hello?

Now you said he read to you the will?

Bon!

What did it say?

Yes.

Yes, cigarette case, Miss Lemon?

I think it was just a joke, Mr Poirot.

I see.

Go on, if you please.

'Thank you, Miss Lemon.

Au revoir.'

CHILDREN SPEAKING INDISTINCTLY What's that?

You want some what?

All right, but only if you're good.

I've half a mind to volunteer to stay, Poirot.

- What for, Hastings?

- Take up this archaeology.

Can't you feel the fascination?

Desert life.

Probing into the heart of a vanished civilisation.

Ah, my tisane.

Thank you, Hassan.

On the table next to my bed, if you please.

Thank you.

HE SIGHS I wish we were getting somewhere with this case, though.

Sometimes, I think it's not a case at all.

Just three natural deaths and one suicide.

What do you think, Poirot?

You don't seem to have any theories at all.

Do you?

POIROT CHOKES Oh, my God!

Poirot!

Dr Ames!

It's Poirot!

Quick!

- Hastings, what is it?

- It's Poirot.

He's ill.

Dead.

I don't know.

It's the camomile tea.

Don't let Hassan leave the camp.

There's still a pulse.

- What's going on?

- It's Poirot.

He's collapsed.

Do you smell anything?

HE SNIFFS Almonds.

Cyanide.

Which, fortunately, I did not drink.

Thank you, Hastings.

POIROT SIGHS While my good friend Captain Hastings was calling for help... I took the opportunity of pouring the contents from that glass... ..into this little bottle.

And this little bottle will go to the analytical chemist.

The first death need not come into our calculations except for one thing.

The quite natural death of your father, Sir Guy, was what gave to our murderer his idea.

The more deaths that occurred... the more everyone would talk about "the Curse of Men-her-Ra", but the less everyone would ask the proper questions.

We thought you were just as superstitious as the rest.

POIROT: But that was my intention.

You see, I wanted to lull the murderer into a false sense of security until I was ready.

And in that... I was successful.

The murderer thought that one more little nudge would send Hastings and myself, scurrying off back to England.

Good God!

POIROT: 'He thought a cheap trick might do it.

Mais non.'

I had to make him act.

And I have now done something that has so alarmed him that he feels he must now add me to his roll of victims.

What is it that I have done... that has so alarmed our murderer... ..flushed him out and made him try to poison me?

Let us go back to the first murder... ..that of Monsieur Felix Bleibner.

Isn't it time you people were in bed?

Won't you join us, Uncle?

POIROT: 'I asked myself, ' "Who would want to murder Felix Bleibner?"

'Alors, he was a man who was very rich, 'therefore, my first assumption would be his heir and nephew, 'Monsieur Rupert Bleibner.

'Mais non.

'Monsieur Rupert Bleibner committed suicide 'even before he heard of the death of his uncle.'

And so, my next question was, why should Monsieur Rupert Bleibner wish to take his own life?

Alors, he was a man who was young, happy, successful.

He had no thought of death.

He had not even made a proper will.

I could never understand him doing it.

And yet, Dr Fosswell, he told to us the reasons quite plainly and precisely in a note that he left, so plainly that we thought he was speaking metaphorically.

He wrote, did he not?

"I am a leper and an outcast.

"It's better that I should end my life now "than bring misery to the people I love."

POIROT: On the threshold of marriage and a life that was happy and successful... ..Monsieur Rupert Bleibner believed that he was doomed.

'He believed he had leprosy.'

During his last days, he even took to wearing the white gloves to hide the first unsightly signs of the disease.

Why should he think he had leprosy?

Because, Hastings, it was told to him that he had, and he had every good reason to believe it.

He had been living in Hawaii, where the disease, it is endemic.

And while in Hawaii, he would have come across... chaulmoogra oil.

Now, he may not have heard of the more modern drugs that have now superseded it, but he would definitely have come across chaulmoogra oil.

What is this chaulmoogra oil?

Chaulmoogra oil, Hastings, was once the only treatment for leprosy.

But in this case, it was used merely as the window-dressing to convince Rupert Bleibner of his condition.

But how do you know that?

I know that, Hastings... ..because I have stolen some chaulmoogra oil from the murderer.

'Hercule Poirot has discovered his secret.'

What secret?

What is all this?

Rupert Bleibner went to Dr Ames with a mild case of eczema... ..and Dr Ames diagnosed leprosy, and pauvre Monsieur Rupert Bleibner saw no way out but death.

This is nonsense.

I mean, why would I want Rupert to kill himself?

He was my friend!

'We were at college together.'

POIROT: 'In the possession of the lawyers 'of Monsieur Rupert Bleibner is a sheet of paper.

'It is old.

It is creased.

'Probably written on while at college 'during some fit of a drunken merriment.

'But the handwriting is that of Monsieur Rupert Bleibner.

'It reads as follows. '

"This is the last will and testament of Rupert Bleibner.'

"I leave my cigarette case, which he admires so much, "and all of which I die possessed, "to my good friend Robert Ames "who once saved my life from drowning."

You see, Dr Ames, you knew that on the death of Monsieur Felix Bleibner, his fortune in entirety would go to his heir and nephew, Monsieur Rupert Bleibner.

But were Monsieur Rupert Bleibner to die... All right.

Now, keep back, all of you.

HE GRUNTS DR AMES: Get off!

Let me go!

HE GROANS You have already three deaths on your head, Dr Ames.

Is that not enough?

HE STRUGGLES LADY WILLARD: But Dr Ames did not kill my husband?

POIROT: No, Lady Willard.

The death of your husband, Sir John, was from the causes quite natural.

You see, the only deaths that interested Dr Ames were those of Monsieur Felix Bleibner, who perished from septicaemia introduced into his cut hand by Dr Ames himself... and Monsieur Rupert Bleibner... ..whom Dr Ames drove to suicide by convincing him that he suffers from leprosy.

And Dr Schneider?

POIROT: Indeed.

Dr Ames injected poor Henry Schneider with tetanus bacillus merely to lend strength to the Curse of Men-her-Ra.

I think you've been wonderfully clever.

- Goodbye, sir.

- Sir Guy.

I return to the Valley of the Kings tomorrow.

This time, with my blessing.

- Bonne chance.

- Yes, well, then.

Au revoir.

TYPEWRITER CLACKING Miss Lemon, would you come through for a moment?

HE EXHALES POIROT: Miss Lemon, in addition to serving this case that has been most difficult, Hastings and I, we have brought you back a little gift from the very tomb of King Men-her-Ra.

From the tomb?

Oui.

Voila!

It is the very likeness of the favourite cat of King Men-her-Ra... ..buried with him in his tomb... ..to keep him company on his long journey.

Oh, he's beautiful.

Go to bed this evening with him in your hand... ..and Catherine the Grate will visit you during the night.

Oh, Mr Poirot, thank you!

I don't know how you can tell her such guff, Poirot.

No, no, no, Hastings, it is not the guff.

It is, as I said at the beginning of this case to Lady Willard.

The power of superstition.

It is a power that is very great indeed.

Subtitles by accessibility@itv.com