AgathaChristie
TheBigFour
AHerculePoirotMystery
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
One:TheUnexpectedGuest
Two:TheManfromtheAsylum
Three:WeHearMoreAboutLiChangYen
Four:TheImportanceofaLegofMutton
Five:DisappearanceofaScientist
Six:TheWomanontheStairs
Seven:TheRadiumThieves
Eight:IntheHouseoftheEnemy
Nine:TheYellowJasmineMystery
Ten:WeInvestigateatCroftlands
Eleven:AChessProblem
Twelve:TheBaitedTrap
Thirteen:TheMouseWalksIn
Fourteen:ThePeroxideBlonde
Fifteen:TheTerribleCatastrophe
Sixteen:TheDyingChinaman
Seventeen:NumberFourWinsaTrick
Eighteen:InTheFelsenlabyrinth
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Credits
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
THEUNEXPECTEDGUEST
Ihavemetpeoplewhoenjoyachannelcrossing;menwhocansitcalmlyintheirdeckchairsand,onarrival,waituntiltheboatismoored,thengathertheirbelongingstogetherwithoutfussanddisembark.Personally,Icannevermanagethis.FromthemomentIgetonboardIfeelthatthetimeistooshorttosettledowntoanything.Imovemysuitcasesfromonespottoanother,andifIgodowntothesaloonforameal,IboltmyfoodwithanuneasyfeelingthattheboatmayarriveunexpectedlywhilstIambelow.Perhapsallthisismerelyalegacyfromone’sshortleavesinthewar,whenitseemedamatterofsuchimportancetosecureaplacenearthegangway,andtobeamongstthefirsttodisembarklestoneshouldwastepreciousminutesofone’sthreeorfivedays’leave.
OnthisparticularJulymorning,asIstoodbytherailandwatchedthewhitecliffsofDoverdrawingnearer,Imarvelledatthepassengerswhocouldsitcalmlyintheirchairsandneverevenraisetheireyesforthefirstsightoftheirnativeland.Yetperhapstheircasewasdifferentfrommine.DoubtlessmanyofthemhadonlycrossedtoParisfortheweekend,whereasIhadspentthelastyearandahalfonaranchintheArgentine.Ihadprosperedthere,andmywifeandIhadbothenjoyedthefreeandeasylifeoftheSouthAmericancontinent,neverthelessitwaswithalumpinmythroatthatIwatchedthefamiliarshoredrawnearerandnearer.
IhadlandedinFrancetwodaysbefore,transactedsomenecessarybusiness,andwasnowenrouteforLondon.Ishouldbetheresomemonths—timeenoughtolookupoldfriends,andoneoldfriendinparticular.Alittlemanwithanegg-shapedheadandgreeneyes—HerculePoirot!Iproposedtotakehimcompletelybysurprise.MylastletterfromtheArgentinehadgivennohintofmyintendedvoyage—indeed,thathadbeendecideduponhurriedlyasaresultofcertainbusinesscomplications—andIspentmanyamusedmomentspicturingtomyselfhisdelightandstupefactiononbeholdingme.
He,Iknew,wasnotlikelytobefarfromhisheadquarters.ThetimewhenhiscaseshaddrawnhimfromoneendofEnglandtotheotherwaspast.Hisfamehadspread,andnolongerwouldheallowonecasetoabsorballhistime.Heaimedmoreandmore,astimewenton,atbeingconsidereda“consultingdetective”—asmuchaspecialistasaHarleyStreetphysician.Hehadalwaysscoffedatthepopularideaofthehumanbloodhoundwhoassumedwonderfuldisguisestotrackcriminals,andwhopausedateveryfootprinttomeasureit.
“No,myfriendHastings,”hewouldsay,“weleavethattoGiraudandhisfriends.HerculePoirot’smethodsarehisown.Orderandmethod,and‘thelittlegreycells.’Sittingateaseinourownarmchairsweseethethingsthattheseothersoverlook,andwedonotjumptotheconclusionliketheworthyJapp.”
No;therewaslittlefearoffindingHerculePoirotfarafield.OnarrivalinLondon,Idepositedmyluggageatahotelanddrovestraightontotheoldaddress.Whatpoignantmemoriesitbroughtbacktome!Ihardlywaitedtogreetmyoldlandlady,buthurriedupthestairstwoatatimeandrappedonPoirot’sdoor.
“Enter,then,”criedafamiliarvoicefromwithin.
Istrodein.Poirotstoodfacingme.Inhisarmshecarriedasmallvalise,whichhedroppedwithacrashonbeholdingme.
“Monami,Hastings!”hecried.“Monami,Hastings!”
And,rushingforward,heenvelopedmeinacapaciousembrace.Ourconversationwasincoherentandinconsequent.Ejaculations,eagerquestions,incompleteanswers,messagesfrommywife,explanationsastomyjourney,werealljumbleduptogether.
“Isupposethere’ssomeoneinmyoldrooms?”Iaskedatlast,whenwehadcalmeddownsomewhat.“I’dlovetoputuphereagainwithyou.”
Poirot’sfacechangedwithstartlingsuddenness.
“MonDieu!butwhatachanceépouvantable.Regardaroundyou,myfriend.”
ForthefirsttimeItooknoteofmysurroundings.Againstthewallstoodavastarkofatrunkofprehistoricdesign.Neartoitwereplacedanumberofsuitcases,rangedneatlyinorderofsizefromlargetosmall.Theinferencewasunmistakable.
“Youaregoingaway?”
“Yes.”
“Whereto?”
“SouthAmerica.”
“What?”
“Yes,itisadrollfarce,isitnot?ItistoRioIgo,andeverydayIsaytomyself,Iwillwritenothinginmyletters—butoh!thesurpriseofthegoodHastingswhenhebeholdsme!”
“Butwhenareyougoing?”
Poirotlookedathiswatch.
“Inanhour’stime.”
“Ithoughtyoualwayssaidnothingwouldinduceyoutomakealongseavoyage?”
Poirotclosedhiseyesandshuddered.
“Speaknotofittome,myfriend.Mydoctor,heassuresmethatonediesnotofit—anditisfortheonetimeonly;youunderstand,thatnever—nevershallIreturn.”
Hepushedmeintoachair.
“Come,Iwilltellyouhowitallcameabout.Doyouknowwhoistherichestmanintheworld?RichereventhanRockefeller?AbeRyland.”
“TheAmericanSoapKing?”
“Precisely.Oneofhissecretariesapproachedme.Thereissomeveryconsiderable,asyouwouldcallit,hocus-pocusgoingoninconnectionwithabigcompanyinRio.Hewishedmetoinvestigatemattersonthespot.Irefused.Itoldhimthatifthefactswerelaidbeforeme,Iwouldgivehimmyexpertopinion.Butthatheprofessedhimselfunabletodo.Iwastobeputinpossessionofthefactsonlyonmyarrivaloutthere.Normally,thatwouldhaveclosedthematter.TodictatetoHerculePoirotissheerimpertinence.ButthesumofferedwassostupendousthatforthefirsttimeinmylifeIwastemptedbymeremoney.Itwasacompetence—afortune!Andtherewasasecondattraction—you,myfriend.ForthislastyearandahalfIhavebeenaverylonelyoldman.Ithoughttomyself,Whynot?Iambeginningtowearyofthisunendingsolvingoffoolishproblems.Ihaveachievedsufficientfame.Letmetakethismoneyandsettledownsomewherenearmyoldfriend.”
IwasquiteaffectedbythistokenofPoirot’sregard.
“SoIaccepted,”hecontinued,“andinanhour’stimeImustleavetocatchtheboattrain.Oneoflife’slittleironies,isitnot?ButIwilladmittoyou,Hastings,thathadnotthemoneyofferedbeensobig,Imighthavehesitated,forjustlatelyIhavebegunalittleinvestigationofmyown.Tellme,whatiscommonlymeantbythephrase,‘TheBigFour?’”
“IsupposeithaditsoriginattheVersaillesConference,andthenthere’sthefamous‘BigFour’inthefilmworld,andthetermisusedbyhostsofsmallerfry.”
“Isee,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Ihavecomeacrossthephrase,youunderstand,undercertaincircumstanceswherenoneofthoseexplanationswouldapply.Itseemstorefertoagangofinternationalcriminalsorsomethingofthatkind;only—”
“Onlywhat?”Iasked,ashehesitated
“OnlythatIfancythatitissomethingonalargescale.Justalittleideaofmine,nothingmore.Ah,butImustcompletemypacking.Thetimeadvances.”
“Don’tgo,”Iurged.“Cancelyourpackageandcomeoutonthesameboatwithme.”
Poirotdrewhimselfupandglancedatmereproachfully.
“Ah,isitthatyoudon’tunderstand!Ihavepassedmyword,youcomprehend—thewordofHerculePoirot.Nothingbutamatteroflifeordeathcoulddetainmenow.”
“Andthat’snotlikelytooccur,”Imurmuredruefully.“Unlessattheeleventhhour‘thedooropensandtheunexpectedguestcomesin.’”
Iquotedtheoldsawwithaslightlaugh,andthen,inthepausethatsucceededit,webothstartedasasoundcamefromtheinnerroom.
“What’sthat?”Icried.
“Mafoi!”retortedPoirot.“Itsoundsverylikeyour‘unexpectedguest’inmybedroom.”
“Buthowcananyonebeinthere?There’snodoorexceptintothisroom.”
“Yourmemoryisexcellent,Hastings.Nowforthedeductions.”
“Thewindow!Butit’saburglar,then?Hemusthavehadastiffclimbofit—Ishouldsayitwasalmostimpossible.”
Ihadrisentomyfeetandwasstridinginthedirectionofthedoorwhenthesoundoffumblingatthehandlefromtheothersidearrestedme.
Thedoorswungslowlyopen.Framedinthedoorwaystoodaman.Hewascoatedfromheadtofootwithdustandmud;hisfacewasthinandemaciated.Hestaredatusforamoment,andthenswayedandfell.Poirothurriedtohisside,thenhelookedupandspoketome.
“Brandy—quickly.”
Idashedsomebrandyintoaglassandbroughtit.Poirotmanagedtoadministeralittle,andtogetherweraisedhimandcarriedhimtothecouch.Inafewminutesheopenedhiseyesandlookedroundhimwithanalmostvacantstare.
“Whatisityouwant,monsieur?”askedPoirot.
Themanopenedhislipsandspokeinaqueermechanicalvoice.
“M.HerculePoirot,14FarrawayStreet.”
“Yes,yes;Iamhe.”
Themandidnotseemtounderstand,andmerelyrepeatedinexactlythesametone:
“M.HerculePoirot,14FarrawayStreet.”
Poirottriedhimwithseveralquestions.Sometimesthemandidnotansweratall;sometimesherepeatedthesamephrase.Poirotmadeasigntometoringuponthetelephone.
“GetDr.Ridgewaytocomeround.”
Thedoctorwasin,luckily;andashishousewasonlyjustroundthecorner,fewminuteselapsedbeforehecamebustlingin.
“What’sallthis,eh?”
Poirotgavehimabriefexplanation,andthedoctorstartedexaminingourstrangevisitor,whoseemedquiteunconsciousofhispresenceorours.
“H’m!”saidDr.Ridgeway,whenhehadfinished.“Curiouscase.”
“Brainfever?”Isuggested.
Thedoctorimmediatelysnortedwithcontempt.
“Brainfever!Brainfever!Nosuchthingasbrainfever.Aninventionofnovelists.No;theman’shadashockofsomekind.He’scomehereundertheforceofapersistentidea—tofindM.HerculePoirot,14FarrawayStreet—andherepeatsthosewordsmechanicallywithoutintheleastknowingwhattheymean.”
“Aphasia?”Isaideagerly.
Thissuggestiondidnotcausethedoctortosnortquiteasviolentlyasmylastonehaddone.Hemadenoanswer,buthandedthemanasheetofpaperandapencil.
“Let’sseewhathe’lldowiththat,”heremarked.
Themandidnothingwithitforsomemoments,thenhesuddenlybegantowritefeverishly.Withequalsuddennesshestoppedandletbothpaperandpencilfalltotheground.Thedoctorpickeditup,andshookhishead.
“Nothinghere.Onlythefigure4scrawledadozentimes,eachonebiggerthanthelast.Wantstowrite14FarrawayStreet,Iexpect.It’saninterestingcase—veryinteresting.Canyoupossiblykeephimhereuntilthisafternoon?I’mdueatthehospitalnow,butI’llcomebackthisafternoonandmakeallarrangementsabouthim.It’stoointerestingacasetobelostsightof.”
IexplainedPoirot’sdepartureandthefactthatIproposedtoaccompanyhimtoSouthampton.
“That’sallright.Leavethemanhere.Hewon’tgetintomischief.He’ssufferingfromcompleteexhaustion.Willprobablysleepforeighthoursonend.I’llhaveawordwiththatexcellentMrs.Funnyfaceofyours,andtellhertokeepaneyeonhim.”
AndDr.Ridgewaybustledoutwithhisusualcelerity.Poirothimselfcompletedhispacking,withoneeyeontheclock
“Thetime,itmarcheswitharapidityunbelievable.Comenow,Hastings,youcannotsaythatIhaveleftyouwithnothingtodo.Amostsensationalproblem.Themanfromtheunknown.Whoishe?Whatishe?Ah,sapristi,butIwouldgivetwoyearsofmylifetohavethisboatgotomorrowinsteadoftoday.Thereissomethinghereverycurious—veryinteresting.Butonemusthavetime—time.Itmaybedays—orevenmonths—beforehewillbeabletotelluswhathecametotell.”
“I’lldomybest,Poirot,”Iassuredhim.“I’lltrytobeanefficientsubstitute.”
“Ye-es.”
Hisrejoinderstruckmeasbeingashadedoubtful.Ipickedupthesheetofpaper.
“IfIwerewritingastory,”Isaidlightly,“IshouldweavethisinwithyourlatestidiosyncrasyandcallitTheMysteryoftheBigFour.”ItappedthepencilledfiguresasIspoke.
AndthenIstarted,forourinvalid,rousedsuddenlyfromhisstupor,satupinhischairandsaidclearlyanddistinctly:
“LiChangYen.”
Hehadthelookofamansuddenlyawakenedfromsleep.Poirotmadeasigntomenottospeak.Themanwenton.Hespokeinaclear,highvoice,andsomethinginhisenunciationmademefeelthathewasquotingfromsomewrittenreportorlecture.
“LiChangYenmayberegardedasrepresentingthebrainsoftheBigFour.Heisthecontrollingandmotiveforce.Ihavedesignatedhim,therefore,asNumberOne.NumberTwoisseldommentionedbyname.Heisrepresentedbyan‘S’withtwolinesthroughit—thesignforadollar;alsobytwostripesandastar.Itmaybeconjectured,therefore,thatheisanAmericansubject,andthatherepresentsthepowerofwealth.ThereseemsnodoubtthatNumberThreeisawoman,andhernationalityFrench.Itispossiblethatshemaybeoneofthesirensofthedemimonde,butnothingisknowndefinitely.NumberFour—”
Hisvoicefalteredandbroke.Poirotleantforward.
“Yes,”hepromptedeagerly,“NumberFour?”
Hiseyeswerefastenedontheman’sface.Someovermasteringterrorseemedtobegainingtheday;thefeaturesweredistortedandtwisted.
“Thedestroyer,”gaspedtheman.Then,withafinalconvulsedmovement,hefellbackinadeadfaint.
“MonDieu!”whisperedPoirot,“Iwasrightthen.Iwasright.”
“Youthink—?”
Heinterruptedme.
“Carryhimontothebedinmyroom.IhavenotaminutetoloseifIwouldcatchmytrain.NotthatIwanttocatchit.Oh,thatIcouldmissitwithaclearconscience!ButIgavemyword.Come,Hastings!”
LeavingourmysteriousvisitorinthechargeofMrs.Pearson,wedroveaway,anddulycaughtthetrainbytheskinofourteeth.Poirotwasalternatelysilentandloquacious.Hewouldsitstaringoutofthewindowlikeamanlostinadream,apparentlynothearingawordthatIsaidtohim.Then,revertingtoanimationsuddenly,hewouldshowerinjunctionsandcommandsuponme,andurgethenecessityofconstantmarconigrams
WehadalongfitofsilencejustafterwepassedWoking.Thetrain,ofcourse,didnotstopanywhereuntilSouthampton;butjusthereithappenedtobeheldupbyasignal.
“Ah!Sacrémilletonnerres!”criedPoirotsuddenly.“ButIhavebeenanimbecile.Iseeclearlyatlast.Itisundoubtedlytheblessedsaintswhostoppedthetrain.Jump,Hastings,butjump,Itellyou.”
Inaninstanthehadunfastenedthecarriagedoor,andjumpedoutontheline.
“Throwoutthesuitcasesandjumpyourself.”
Iobeyedhim.Justintime.AsIalightedbesidehim,thetrainmovedon.
“Andnow,Poirot,”Isaid,insomeexasperation,“perhapsyouwilltellmewhatallthisisabout.”
“Itis,myfriend,thatIhaveseenthelight.”
“That,”Isaid,“isveryilluminatingtome.”
“Itshouldbe,”saidPoirot,“butIfear—Iverymuchfearthatitisnot.Ifyoucancarrytwoofthesevalises,IthinkIcanmanagetherest.”
Two
THEMANFROMTHEASYLUM
Fortunatelythetrainhadstoppednearastation.Ashortwalkbroughtustoagaragewherewewereabletoobtainacar,andhalfanhourlaterwewerespinningrapidlybacktoLondon.Then,andnottillthen,didPoirotdeigntosatisfymycuriosity.
“Youdonotsee?NomoredidI.ButIseenow.Hastings,Iwasbeinggotoutoftheway.”
“What!”
“Yes.Verycleverly.Boththeplaceandthemethodwerechosenwithgreatknowledgeandacumen.Theywereafraidofme.”
“Whowere?”
“Thosefourgeniuseswhohavebandedthemselvestogethertoworkoutsidethelaw.AChinaman,anAmerican,aFrenchwoman,and—another.PraythegoodGodwearrivebackintime,Hastings.”
“Youthinkthereisdangertoourvisitor?”
“Iamsureofit.”
Mrs.Pearsongreetedusonarrival.BrushingasideherecstasiesofastonishmentonbeholdingPoirot,weaskedforinformation.Itwasreassuring.Noonehadcalled,andourguesthadnotmadeanysign.
Withasighofreliefwewentuptotherooms.Poirotcrossedtheouteroneandwentthroughtotheinnerone.Thenhecalledme,hisvoicestrangelyagitated.
“Hastings,he’sdead.”
Icamerunningtojoinhim.Themanwaslyingaswehadlefthim,buthewasdead,andhadbeendeadsometime.Irushedoutforadoctor.Ridgeway,Iknew,wouldnothavereturnedyet.Ifoundonealmostimmediately,andbroughthimbackwithme.
“He’sdeadrightenough,poorchap.Trampyou’vebeenbefriending,eh?”
“Somethingofthekind,”saidPoirotevasively.“Whatwasthecauseofdeath,doctor?”
“Hardtosay.Mighthavebeensomekindoffit.Therearesignsofasphyxiation.Nogaslaidon,isthere?”
“No,electriclight—nothingelse.”
“Andbothwindowswideopen,too.Beendeadabouttwohours,Ishouldsay.You’llnotifytheproperpeople,won’tyou?”
Hetookhisdeparture.Poirotdidsomenecessarytelephoning.Finally,somewhattomysurprise,herangupouroldfriendInspectorJapp,andaskedhimifhecouldpossiblycomeround.
NosoonerweretheseproceedingscompletedthanMrs.Pearsonappeared,hereyesasroundassaucers.
“There’samanherefrom’Anwell—fromthe’Sylum.Didyouever?ShallIshowhimup?”
Wesignifiedassent,andabigburlymaninuniformwasusheredin.
“’Morning,gentlemen,”hesaidcheerfully.“I’vegotreasontobelieveyou’vegotoneofmybirdshere.Escapedlastnight,hedid.”
“Hewashere,”saidPoirotquietly.
“Notgotawayagain,hashe?”askedthekeeper,withsomeconcern.
“Heisdead.”
Themanlookedmorerelievedthanotherwise.
“Youdon’tsayso.Well,Idaresayit’sbestforallparties.”
“Washe—dangerous?”
“’Omicidal,d’youmean?Oh,no.’Armlessenough.Persecutionmaniaveryacute.FullofsecretsocietiesfromChinathathadgothimshutup.They’reallthesame.”
Ishuddered.
“Howlonghashebeenshutup?”askedPoirot.
“Amatteroftwoyearsnow.”
“Isee,”saidPoirotquietly.“Itneveroccurredtoanybodythathemight—besane?”
Thekeeperpermittedhimselftolaugh.
“Ifhewassane,whatwouldhebedoinginalunaticasylum?Theyallsaythey’resane,youknow.”
Poirotsaidnomore.Hetookthemanintoseethebody.Theidentificationcameimmediately.
“That’shim—rightenough,”saidthekeepercallously:“funnysortofbloke,ain’the?Well,gentlemen,Ihadbestgooffnowandmakearrangementsunderthecircumstances.Wewon’ttroubleyouwiththecorpsemuchlonger.Ifthere’sahinquest,youwillhavetoappearatit,Idaresay.Goodmorning,sir.”
Witharatheruncouthbowheshambledoutoftheroom.
AfewminuteslaterJapparrived.TheScotlandYardinspectorwasjauntyanddapperasusual.
“HereIam,MoosiorPoirot.WhatcanIdoforyou?Thoughtyouwereofftothecoralstrandsofsomewhereorothertoday?”
“MygoodJapp,Iwanttoknowifyouhaveeverseenthismanbefore.”
HeledJappintothebedroom.Theinspectorstareddownatthefigureonthebedwithapuzzledface.
“Letmeseenow—heseemssortoffamiliar—andIpridemyselfonmymemory,too.Why,Godblessmysoul,it’sMayerling!”
“SecretServicechap—notoneofourpeople.WenttoRussiafiveyearsago.Neverheardofagain.AlwaysthoughttheBolshieshaddonehimin.”
“Itallfitsin,”saidPoirot,whenJapphadtakenhisleave,“exceptforthefactthatheseemstohavediedanaturaldeath.”
Hestoodlookingdownonthemotionlessfigurewithadissatisfiedfrown.Apuffofwindsetthewindowcurtainsflyingout,andhelookedupsharply.
“Isupposeyouopenedthewindowswhenyoulaidhimdownonthebed,Hastings?”
“No,Ididn’t,”Ireplied.“AsfarasIremember,theywereshut.”
Poirotliftedhisheadsuddenly.
“Shut—andnowtheyareopen.Whatcanthatmean?”
“Somebodycameinthatway,”Isuggested.
“Possibly,”agreedPoirot,buthespokeabsentlyandwithoutconviction.Afteraminuteortwohesaid:
“ThatisnotexactlythepointIhadinmind,Hastings.Ifonlyonewindowwasopenitwouldnotintriguemesomuch.Itisbothwindowsbeingopenthatstrikesmeascurious.”
Hehurriedintotheotherroom.
“Thesitting-roomwindowisopen,too.Thatalsoweleftshut.Ah!”
Hebentoverthedeadman,examiningthecornersofthemouthminutely.Thenhelookedupsuddenly.
“Hehasbeengagged,Hastings.Gaggedandthenpoisoned.”
“Goodheavens!”Iexclaimed,shocked.“Isupposeweshallfindoutallaboutitfromthepostmortem.”
“Weshallfindoutnothing.Hewaskilledbyinhalingstrongprussicacid.Itwasjammedrightunderhisnose.Thenthemurdererwentawayagain,firstopeningallthewindows.Hydrocyanicacidisexceedinglyvolatile,butithasapronouncedsmellofbitteralmonds.Withnotraceofthesmelltoguidethem,andnosuspicionoffoulplay,deathwouldbeputdowntosomenaturalcausebythedoctors.SothismanwasintheSecretService,Hastings.AndfiveyearsagohedisappearedinRussia.”
“Thelasttwoyearshe’sbeenintheasylum,”Isaid.“Butwhatofthethreeyearsbeforethat?”
Poirotshookhishead,andthencaughtmyarm.
“Theclock,Hastings,lookattheclock.”
Ifollowedhisgazetothemantelpiece.Theclockhadstoppedatfouro’clock
“Monami,someonehastamperedwithit.Ithadstillthreedaystorun.Itisaneight-dayclock,youcomprehend?”
“Butwhatshouldtheywanttodothatfor?Someideaofafalsescentbymakingthecrimeappeartohavetakenplaceatfouro’clock?”
“No,no;rearrangeyourideas,monami.Exerciseyourlittlegreycells.YouareMayerling.Youhearsomethingperhaps—andyouknowwellenoughthatyourdoomissealed.Youhavejusttimetoleaveasign.Fouro’clock,Hastings.NumberFour,thedestroyer.Ah!anidea!”
Herushedintotheotherroomandseizedthetelephone.HeaskedforHanwell.
“Youaretheasylum,yes?Iunderstandtherehasbeenanescapetoday?Whatisthatyousay?Alittlemoment,ifyouplease.Willyourepeatthat?Ah!parfaitement.”
Hehungupthereceiver,andturnedtome.
“Youheard,Hastings?Therehasbeennoescape.”
“Butthemanwhocame—thekeeper?”Isaid.
“Iwonder—Iverymuchwonder.”
“Youmean—?”
“NumberFour—thedestroyer.”
IgazedatPoirotdumbfounded.Aminuteortwoafter,onrecoveringmyvoice,Isaid:
“Weshallknowhimagain,anywhere,that’sonething.Hewasamanofverypronouncedpersonality.”
“Washe,monami?Ithinknot.Hewasburlyandbluffandred-faced,withathickmoustacheandahoarsevoice.Hewillbenoneofthosethingsbythistime,andfortherest,hehasnondescripteyes,nondescriptears,andaperfectsetoffalseteeth.Identificationisnotsuchaneasymatterasyouseemtothink.Nexttime—”
“Youthinktherewillbeanexttime?”Iinterrupted.
Poirot’sfacegrewverygrave.
“Itisadueltothedeath,monami.YouandIontheoneside,theBigFourontheother.Theyhavewonthefirsttrick;buttheyhavefailedintheirplantogetmeoutoftheway,andinthefuturetheyhavetoreckonwithHerculePoirot!”
Three
WEHEARMOREABOUTLICHANGYEN
ForadayortwoafterourvisitfromthefakeasylumattendantIwasinsomehopesthathemightreturn,andIrefusedtoleavetheflatevenforamoment.AsfarasIcouldsee,hehadnoreasontosuspectthatwehadpenetratedhisdisguise.Hemight,Ithought,returnandtrytoremovethebody,butPoirotscoffedatmyreasoning.
“Monami,”hesaid,“ifyouwishyoumaywaitintoputsaltonthelittlebird’stail,butformeIdonotwastemytimeso.”
“Well,then,Poirot,”Iargued,“whydidheruntheriskofcomingatall?Ifheintendedtoreturnlaterforthebody,Icanseesomepointinhisvisit.Hewouldatleastberemovingtheevidenceagainsthimself;asitis,hedoesnotseemtohavegainedanything.”
PoirotshruggedhismostGallicshrug.“ButyoudonotseewiththeeyesofNumberFour,Hastings,”hesaid.“Youtalkofevidence,butwhatevidencehaveweagainsthim?True,wehaveabody,butwehavenoproofeventhatthemanwasmurdered—prussicacid,wheninhaled,leavesnotrace.Again,wecanfindnoonewhosawanyoneentertheflatduringourabsence,andwehavefoundoutnothingaboutthemovementsofourlatefriend,Mayerling…
“No,Hastings,NumberFourhasleftnotrace,andheknowsit.Hisvisitwemaycallareconnaissance.PerhapshewantedtomakequitesurethatMayerlingwasdead,butmorelikely,Ithink,hecametoseeHerculePoirot,andtohavespeechwiththeadversarywhomalonehemustfear.”
Poirot’sreasoningappearedtobetypicallyegotistical,butIforeboretoargue.
“Andwhatabouttheinquest?”Iasked.“Isupposeyouwillexplainthingsclearlythere,andletthepolicehaveafulldescriptionofNumberFour.”
“Andtowhatend?Canweproduceanythingtoimpressacoroner’sjuryofyoursolidBritishers?IsourdescriptionofNumberFourofanyvalue?No;weshallallowthemtocallit‘AccidentalDeath,’andmaybe,althoughIhavenotmuchhope,ourclevermurdererwillpathimselfonthebackthathedeceivedHerculePoirotinthefirstround.”
Poirotwasrightasusual.Wesawnomoreofthemanfromtheasylum,andtheinquest,atwhichIgaveevidence,butwhichPoirotdidnotevenattend,arousednopublicinterest.
As,inviewofhisintendedtriptoSouthAmerica,Poirothadwounduphisaffairsbeforemyarrival,hehadatthistimenocasesinhand,butalthoughhespentmostofhistimeintheflatIcouldgetlittleoutofhim.Heremainedburiedinanarmchair,anddiscouragedmyattemptsatconversation.
Andthenonemorning,aboutaweekafterthemurder,heaskedmeifIwouldcaretoaccompanyhimonavisithewishedtomake.Iwaspleased,forIfelthewasmakingamistakeintryingtoworkthingsoutsoentirelyonhisown,andIwishedtodiscussthecasewithhim.ButIfoundhewasnotcommunicative.EvenwhenIaskedwhereweweregoing,hewouldnotanswer.
Poirotlovesbeingmysterious.Hewillneverpartwithapieceofinformationuntilthelastpossiblemoment.Inthisinstance,havingtakensuccessivelyabusandtwotrains,andarrivedintheneighbourhoodofoneofLondon’smostdepressingsouthernsuburbs,heconsentedatlasttoexplainmatters.
“Wego,Hastings,toseetheonemaninEnglandwhoknowsmostoftheundergroundlifeofChina.”
“Indeed!Whoishe?”
“Amanyouhaveneverheardof—aMr.JohnIngles.Toallintentsandpurposes,heisaretiredCivilServantofmediocreintellect,withahousefullofChinesecurioswithwhichheboreshisfriendsandacquaintances.Nevertheless,IamassuredbythosewhoshouldknowthattheonlymancapableofgivingmetheinformationIseekisthissameJohnIngles.”
AfewmomentsmoresawusascendingthestepsofTheLaurels,asMr.Ingles’sresidencewascalled.Personally,Ididnotnoticealaurelbushofanykind,sodeducedthatithadbeennamedaccordingtotheusualobscurenomenclatureofthesuburbs.
Wewereadmittedbyanimpassive-facedChineseservantandusheredintothepresenceofhismaster.Mr.Ingleswasasquarelybuiltman,somewhatyellowofcountenance,withdeep-seteyesthatwereoddlyreflectiveincharacter.Herosetogreetus,settingasideanopenletterwhichhehadheldinhishand.Hereferredtoitafterhisgreeting.
“Sitdown,won’tyou?HasleytellsmethatyouwantsomeinformationandthatImaybeusefultoyouinthematter.”
“Thatisso,monsieur.IaskofyouifyouhaveanyknowledgeofamannamedLiChangYen?”
“That’srum—veryrumindeed.Howdidyoucometohearabouttheman?”
“Youknowhim,then?”
“I’vemethimonce.AndIknowsomethingofhim—notquiteasmuchasIshouldliketo.ButitsurprisesmethatanyoneelseinEnglandshouldevenhaveheardofhim.He’sagreatmaninhisway—mandarinclassandallthat,youknow—butthat’snotthecruxofthematter.There’sgoodreasontosupposethathe’sthemanbehinditall.”
“Behindwhat?”
“Everything.Theworldwideunrest,thelabourtroublesthatbeseteverynation,andtherevolutionsthatbreakoutinsome.Therearepeople,notscaremongers,whoknowwhattheyaretalkingabout,andtheysaythatthereisaforcebehindthesceneswhichaimsatnothinglessthanthedisintegrationofcivilization.InRussia,youknow,thereweremanysignsthatLeninandTrotskyweremerepuppetswhoseeveryactionwasdictatedbyanother’sbrain.Ihavenodefiniteproofthatwouldcountwithyou,butIamquiteconvincedthatthisbrainwasLiChangYen’s.”
“Oh,come,”Iprotested,“isn’tthatabitfar-fetched?HowwouldaChinamancutanyiceinRussia?”
Poirotfrownedatmeirritably.
“Foryou,Hastings,”hesaid,“everythingisfar-fetchedthatcomesnotfromyourownimagination;forme,Iagreewiththisgentleman.Butcontinue,Ipray,monsieur.”
“WhatexactlyhehopestogetoutofitallIcannotpretendtosayforcertain,”wentonMr.Ingles;“butIassumehisdiseaseisonethathasattackedgreatbrainsfromthetimeofAkbarandAlexandertoNapoleon—alustforpowerandpersonalsupremacy.Uptomoderntimesarmedforcewasnecessaryforconquest,butinthiscenturyofunrestamanlikeLiChangYencanuseothermeans.Ihaveevidencethathehasunlimitedmoneybehindhimforbriberyandpropaganda,andtherearesignsthathecontrolssomescientificforcemorepowerfulthantheworldhasdreamedof.”
PoirotwasfollowingMr.Ingles’swordswiththeclosestattention.
“AndinChina?”heasked.“Hemovestheretoo?”
Theothernoddedinemphaticassent.
“There,”hesaid,“althoughIcanproducenoproofthatwouldcountinacourtoflaw,Ispeakfrommyownknowledge.IknowpersonallyeverymanwhocountsforanythinginChinatoday,andthisIcantellyou:themenwholoommostlargelyinthepubliceyearemenoflittleornopersonality.Theyaremarionetteswhodancetothewirespulledbyamasterhand,andthathandisLiChangYen’s.HisisthecontrollingbrainoftheEasttoday.Wedon’tunderstandtheEast—wenevershall;butLiChangYenisitsmovingspirit.Notthathecomesoutintothelimelight—oh,notatall;henevermovesfromhispalaceinPeking.Buthepullsstrings—that’sit,pullsstrings—andthingshappenfaraway.”
“Andthereisnoonetoopposehim?”askedPoirot.
Mr.Inglesleantforwardinhischair.
“Fourmenhavetriedinthelastfouryears,”hesaidslowly;“menofcharacter,andhonesty,andbrainpower.Anyoneofthemmightintimehaveinterferedwithhisplans.”Hepaused.
“Well?”Iqueried.
“Well,theyaredead.Onewroteanarticle,andmentionedLiChangYen’snameinconnectionwiththeriotsinPeking,andwithintwodayshewasstabbedinthestreet.Hismurdererwasnevercaught.Theoffencesoftheothertwoweresimilar.Inaspeechoranarticle,orinconversation,eachlinkedLiChangYen’snamewithriotingorrevolution,andwithinaweekofhisindiscretioneachwasdead.Onewaspoisoned;onediedofcholera,anisolatedcase—notpartofanepidemic;andonewasfounddeadinhisbed.Thecauseofthelastdeathwasneverdetermined,butIwastoldbyadoctorwhosawthecorpsethatitwasburntandshrivelledasthoughawaveofelectricalenergyofincrediblepowerhadpassedthroughit.”
“AndLiChangYen?”inquiredPoirot.“Naturallynothingistracedtohim,buttherearesigns,eh?”
Mr.Inglesshrugged.
“Oh,signs—yes,certainly.AndonceIfoundamanwhowouldtalk,abrilliantyoungChinesechemistwhowasaprotégéofLiChangYen’s.Hecametomeoneday,thischemist,andIcouldseethathewasonthevergeofanervousbreakdown.Hehintedtomeofexperimentsonwhichhe’dbeenengagedinLiChangYen’spalaceunderthemandarin’sdirection—experimentsoncooliesinwhichthemostrevoltingdisregardforhumanlifeandsufferinghadbeenshown.Hisnervehadcompletelybroken,andhewasinthemostpitiablestateofterror.Iputhimtobedinatoproomofmyownhouse,intendingtoquestionhimthenextday—andthat,ofcourse,wasstupidofme.”
“Howdidtheygethim?”demandedPoirot.
“ThatIshallneverknow.Iwokethatnighttofindmyhouseinflames,andwasluckytoescapewithmylife.Investigationshowedthatafireofamazingintensityhadbrokenoutonthetopfloor,andtheremainsofmyyoungchemistfriendwerecharredtoacinder.”
IcouldseefromtheearnestnesswithwhichhehadbeenspeakingthatMr.Ingleswasamanmountedonhishobbyhorse,andevidentlyhe,too,realizedthathehadbeencarriedaway,forhelaughedapologetically.
“But,ofcourse,”hesaid,“Ihavenoproofs,andyou,liketheothers,willmerelytellmethatIhaveabeeinmybonnet.”
“Onthecontrary,”saidPoirotquietly,“wehaveeveryreasontobelieveyourstory.WeourselvesaremorethanalittleinterestedinLiChangYen.”
“Veryoddyourknowingabouthim.Didn’tfancyasoulinEnglandhadeverheardofhim.I’dratherliketoknowhowyoudidcometohearofhim—ifit’snotindiscreet.”
“Notintheleast,monsieur.Amantookrefugeinmyrooms.Hewassufferingbadlyfromshock,buthemanagedtotellusenoughtointerestusinthisLiChangYen.Hedescribedfourpeople—theBigFour—anorganisationhithertoundreamedof.NumberOneisLiChangYen,NumberTwoisanunknownAmerican,NumberThreeanequallyunknownFrenchwoman,NumberFourmaybecalledtheexecutiveoftheorganization—thedestroyer.Myinformantdied.Tellme,monsieur,isthatphraseknowntoyouatall?TheBigFour.”
“NotinconnectionwithLiChangYen.No,Ican’tsayitis.ButI’veheardit,orreadit,justlately—andinsomeunusualconnectiontoo.Ah,I’vegotit.”
Heroseandwentacrosstoaninlaidlacquercabinet—anexquisitething,asevenIcouldsee.Hereturnedwithaletterinhishand.
“Hereyouare.Notefromanoldsea-faringmanIranagainstonceinShanghai.Hoaryoldreprobate—maudlinwithdrinkbynow,Ishouldsay.Itookthistobetheravingsofalcoholism.”
Hereaditaloud:
DearSir—Youmaynotrememberme,butyoudidmeagoodturnonceinShanghai.Domeanothernow.Imusthavemoneytogetoutofthecountry.I’mwellhidhere,Ihope,butanydaytheymaygetme.TheBigFour,Imean.It’slifeordeath.I’veplentyofmoney,butIdaren’tgetatit,forfearofputtingthemwise.Sendmeacoupleofhundredinnotes.I’llrepayitfaithful—Isweartothat.—Yourservant,sir,JonathanWhalley
“DatedfromGraniteBungalow,Hoppaton,Dartmoor.I’mafraidIregardeditasratheracrudemethodofrelievingmeofacoupleofhundredwhichIcanillspare.Ifit’sanyusetoyou—”Hehelditout.
“Jevousremercie,monsieur.IstartforHoppatonàl’heuremême.”
“Dearme,thisisveryinteresting.SupposingIcamealongtoo?Anyobjection?”
“Ishouldbecharmedtohaveyourcompany,butwemuststartatonce.WeshallnotreachDartmooruntilcloseonnightfall,asitis.”
JohnInglesdidnotdelayusmorethanacoupleofminutes,andsoonwewereinthetrainmovingoutofPaddingtonboundfortheWestCountry.Hoppatonwasasmallvillageclusteringinahollowrightonthefringeofthemoorland.Itwasreachedbyanine-miledrivefromMoretonhampstead.Itwasabouteighto’clockwhenwearrived;butasthemonthwasJuly,thedaylightwasstillabundant.
Wedroveintothenarrowstreetofthevillageandthenstoppedtoaskourwayofanoldrustic.
“GraniteBungalow,”saidtheoldmanreflectively,“itbeGraniteBungalowyoudowant?Eh?”
Weassuredhimthatthiswaswhatwedidwant.
Theoldmanpointedtoasmallgreycottageattheendofthestreet.
“Therebet’Bungalow.Doyeewanttoseet’Inspector?”
“WhatInspector?”askedPoirotsharply;“whatdoyoumean?”
“Haven’tyeeheardaboutt’murder,then?Ashockingbusinesst’wasseemingly.Poolsofblood,theydosay.”
“MonDieu!”murmuredPoirot.“ThisInspectorofyours,Imustseehimatonce.”
FiveminuteslaterwewereclosetedwithInspectorMeadows.TheInspectorwasinclinedtobestiffatfirst,butatthemagicnameofInspectorJappofScotlandYardheunbent.
“Yes,sir;murderedthismorning.Ashockingbusiness.TheyphonedtoMoreton,andIcameoutatonce.Lookedamysteriousthingtobeginwith.Theoldman—hewasaboutseventy,youknow,andfondofhisglass,fromallIhear—waslyingonthefloorofthelivingroom.Therewasabruiseonhisheadandhisthroatwascutfromeartoear.Bloodallovertheplace,asyoucanunderstand.Thewomanwhocooksforhim,BetsyAndrews,shetoldusthathermasterhadseverallittleChinesejadefigures,thathe’dtoldherwereveryvaluable,andthesehaddisappeared.That,ofcourse,lookedlikeassaultandrobbery;buttherewereallsortsofdifficultiesinthewayofthatsolution.Theoldfellowhadtwopeopleinthehouse;BetsyAndrews,whoisaHoppatonwoman,andaroughkindofmanservant,RobertGrant.Granthadgonetothefarmtofetchthemilk,whichhedoeseveryday,andBetsyhadsteppedouttohaveachatwithaneighbour.Shewasonlyawaytwentyminutes—betweentenandhalfpast—andthecrimemusthavebeendonethen.Grantreturnedtothehousefirst.Hewentinbythebackdoor,whichwasopen—noonelocksupdoorsroundhere—notinbroaddaylight,atallevents—putthemilkinthelarder,andwentintohisownroomtoreadthepaperandhaveasmoke.Hehadnoideaanythingunusualhadoccurred—atleast,that’swhathesays.ThenBetsycomesin,goesintothelivingroom,seeswhat’shappened,andletsoutascreechtowakethedead.That’sallfairandsquare.Someonegotinwhilstthosetwowereout,anddidthepooroldmanin.Butitstruckmeatoncethathemustbeaprettycoolcustomer.He’dhavetocomerightupthevillagestreet,orcreepthroughsomeone’sbackyard.GraniteBungalowhasgothousesallroundit,asyoucansee.Howwasitthatnoonehadseenhim?”
TheInspectorpausedwithaflourish.
“Aha,Iperceiveyourpoint,”saidPoirot.“Tocontinue?”
“Well,sir,fishy,Isaidtomyself—fishy.AndIbegantolookaboutme.Thosejadefigures,now.Wouldacommontrampeversuspectthattheywerevaluable?Anyway,itwasmadnesstotrysuchathinginbroaddaylight.Supposetheoldmanhadyelledforhelp?”
“Isuppose,Inspector,”saidMr.Ingles,“thatthebruiseontheheadwasinflictedbeforedeath?”
“Quiteright,sir.Firstknockedhimsilly,themurdererdid,andthencuthisthroat.That’sclearenough.Buthowthedickensdidhecomeorgo?Theynoticestrangersquickenoughinalittleplacelikethis.Itcametomeallatonce—nobodydidcome.Itookagoodlookround.Ithadrainedthenightbefore,andtherewerefootprintsclearenoughgoinginandoutofthekitchen.Inthelivingroomthereweretwosetsoffootprintsonly(BetsyAndrews’sstoppedatthedoor)—Mr.Whalley’s(hewaswearingcarpetslippers)andanotherman’s.Theothermanhadsteppedinthebloodstains,andItracedhisbloodyfootprints—Ibegyourpardon,sir.”
“Notatall,”saidMr.Ingles,withafaintsmile;“theadjectiveisperfectlyunderstood.”
“Itracedthemtothekitchen—butnotbeyond.PointNumberOne.OnthelintelofRobertGrant’sdoorwasafaintsmear—asmearofblood.That’spointNumberTwo.PointNumberThreewaswhenIgotholdofGrant’sboots—whichhehadtakenoff—andfittedthemtothemarks.Thatsettledit.Itwasaninsidejob.IwarnedGrantandtookhimintocustody;andwhatdoyouthinkIfoundpackedawayinhisportmanteau?Thelittlejadefiguresandaticket-of-leave.RobertGrantwasalsoAbrahamBiggs,convictedforfelonyandhousebreakingfiveyearsago.”
TheInspectorpausedtriumphantly.
“Whatdoyouthinkofthat,gentlemen?”
“Ithink,”saidPoirot,“thatitappearsaveryclearcase—ofasurprisingclearness,infact.ThisBiggs,orGrant,hemustbeamanveryfoolishanduneducated,eh?”
“Oh,heisthat—arough,commonsortoffellow.Noideaofwhatafootprintmaymean.”
“Clearlyhereadsnotthedetectivefiction!Well,Inspector,Icongratulateyou.Wemaylookatthesceneofthecrime.Yes?”
“I’lltakeyoutheremyselfthisminute.I’dlikeyoutoseethosefootprints.”
“I,too,shouldliketoseethem.Yes,yes,veryinteresting,veryingenious.”
Wesetoutforthwith.Mr.InglesandtheInspectorforgedahead.IdrewPoirotbackalittlesoastobeabletospeaktohimoutoftheInspector’shearing.
“Whatdoyoureallythink,Poirot?Istheremoreinthisthanmeetstheeye?”
“Thatisjustthequestion,monami.WhalleysaysplainlyenoughinhisletterthattheBigFourareonhistrack,andweknow,youandI,thattheBigFourisnobogeyforthechildren.YeteverythingseemstosaythatthismanGrantcommittedthecrime.Whydidhedoso?Forthesakeofthelittlejadefigures?OrisheanagentoftheBigFour?Iconfessthatthislastseemsmorelikely.Howevervaluablethejade,amanofthatclasswasnotlikelytorealizethefact—atanyrate,nottothepointofcommittingmurderforthem.(That,parexample,oughttohavestrucktheInspector.)Hecouldhavestolenthejadeandmadeoffwithitinsteadofcommittingabrutalmurder.Ah,yes;IfearourDevonshirefriendhasnotusedhislittlegreycells.Hehasmeasuredfootprints,andhasomittedtoreflectandarrangehisideaswiththenecessaryorderandmethod.”
Four
THEIMPORTANCEOFALEGOFMUTTON
TheInspectordrewakeyfromhispocketandunlockedthedoorofGraniteBungalow.Thedayhadbeenfineanddry,soourfeetwerenotlikelytoleaveanyprints;nevertheless,wewipedthemcarefullyonthematbeforeentering.
AwomancameupoutofthegloomandspoketotheInspector,andheturnedaside.Thenhespokeoverhisshoulder.
“Haveagoodlookround,Mr.Poirot,andseeallthereistobeseen.I’llbebackinabouttenminutes.Bytheway,here’sGrant’sboot.Ibroughtitalongwithmeforyoutocomparetheimpressions.”
Wewentintothelivingroom,andthesoundoftheInspector’sfootstepsdiedawayoutside.IngleswasattractedimmediatelybysomeChinesecuriosonatableinthecorner,andwentovertoexaminethem.HeseemedtotakenointerestinPoirot’sdoings.I,ontheotherhand,watchedhimwithbreathlessinterest.Thefloorwascoveredwithadark-greenlinoleumwhichwasidealforshowingupfootprints.Adooratthefartherendledintothesmallkitchen.Fromthereanotherdoorledintothescullery(wherethebackdoorwassituated),andanotherintothebedroomwhichhadbeenoccupiedbyRobertGrant.Havingexploredtheground,Poirotcommenteduponitinalowrunningmonologue.
“Hereiswherethebodylay;thatbigdarkstainandthesplashesallaroundmarkthespot.Tracesofcarpetslippersand‘numbernine’boots,youobserve,butallveryconfused.Thentwosetsoftracksleadingtoandfromthekitchen;whoeverthemurdererwas,hecameinthatway.Youhavetheboot,Hastings?Giveittome.”Hecompareditcarefullywiththeprints.“Yes,bothmadebythesameman,RobertGrant.Hecameinthatway,killedtheoldman,andwentbacktothekitchen.Hehadsteppedintheblood;seethestainsheleftashewentout?Nothingtobeseeninthekitchen—allthevillagehasbeenwalkingaboutinit.Hewentintohisownroom—no,firsthewentbackagaintothesceneofthecrime—wasthattogetthelittlejadefigures?Orhadheforgottensomethingthatmightincriminatehim?”
“Perhapshekilledtheoldmanthesecondtimehewentin?”Isuggested.
“Maisnon,youdonotobserve.Ononeoftheoutgoingfootmarksstainedwithbloodthereissuperimposedaningoingone.Iwonderwhathewentbackfor—thelittlejadefiguresasanafterthought?Itisallridiculous—stupid.”
“Well,he’sgivenhimselfawayprettyhopelessly.”
“N’est-cepas?Itellyou,Hastings,itgoesagainstreason.Itoffendsmylittlegreycells.Letusgointohisbedroom—ah,yes;thereisthesmearofbloodonthelintelandjustatraceoffootmarks—bloodstained.RobertGrant’sfootmarks,andhisonly,nearthebody—RobertGranttheonlymanwhowentnearthehouse.Yes,itmustbeso.”
“Whatabouttheoldwoman?”Isaidsuddenly.“ShewasinthehousealoneafterGranthadgoneforthemilk.Shemighthavekilledhimandthengoneout.Herfeetwouldleavenoprintsifshehadn’tbeenoutside.”
“Verygood,Hastings.Iwonderedwhetherthathypothesiswouldoccurtoyou.Ihadalreadythoughtofitandrejectedit.BetsyAndrewsisalocalwoman,well-knownhereabouts.ShecanhavenoconnectionwiththeBigFour;and,besides,oldWhalleywasapowerfulfellow,byallaccounts.Thisisaman’swork—notawoman’s.”
“IsupposetheBigFourcouldn’thavehadsomediabolicalcontrivanceconcealedintheceiling—somethingwhichdescendedautomaticallyandcuttheoldman’sthroatandwasafterwardsdrawnupagain?”
“LikeJacob’sladder?Iknow,Hastings,thatyouhaveanimaginationofthemostfertile—butIimploreofyoutokeepitwithinbounds.”
Isubsided,abashed.Poirotcontinuedtowanderabout,pokingintoroomsandcupboardswithaprofoundlydissatisfiedexpressiononhisface.Suddenlyheutteredanexcitedyelp,reminiscentofaPomeraniandog.Irushedtojoinhim.Hewasstandinginthelarderinadramaticattitude.Inhishandhewasbrandishingalegofmutton!
“MydearPoirot!”Icried.“Whatisthematter?Haveyousuddenlygonemad?”
“Regard,Iprayyou,thismutton.Butregarditclosely!”
IregardeditascloselyasIcould,butcouldseenothingunusualaboutit.Itseemedtomeaveryordinarylegofmutton.Isaidasmuch.Poirotthrewmeawitheringglance.
“Butdoyounotseethis—andthis—andthis—”
Heillustratedeach“this”withajabattheunoffendingjoint,dislodgingsmalliciclesashedidso.
Poirothadjustaccusedmeofbeingimaginative,butInowfeltthathewasfarmorewildlysothanIhadeverbeen.Didheseriouslythinkthesesliversoficewerecrystalsofadeadlypoison?ThatwastheonlyconstructionIcouldputuponhisextraordinaryagitation.
“It’sfrozenmeat,”Iexplainedgently.“Imported,youknow.NewZealand.”
Hestaredatmeforamomentortwoandthenbrokeintoastrangelaugh.
“HowmarvellousismyfriendHastings!Heknowseverything—buteverything!Howdotheysay—InquireWithinUponEverything.ThatismyfriendHastings.”
Heflungdownthelegofmuttonontoitsdishagainandleftthelarder.Thenhelookedthroughthewindow.
“HerecomesourfriendtheInspector.Itiswell.IhaveseenallIwanttoseehere.”Hedrummedonthetableabsentmindedly,asthoughabsorbedincalculation,andthenaskedsuddenly,“Whatisthedayoftheweek,monami?”
“Monday,”Isaid,ratherastonished.“What—?”
“Ah!Monday,isit?Abaddayoftheweek.TocommitamurderonaMondayisamistake.”
Passingbacktothelivingroom,hetappedtheglassonthewallandglancedatthethermometer.
“Setfair,andseventydegreesFahrenheit.AnorthodoxEnglishsummer’sday.”
IngleswasstillexaminingvariouspiecesofChinesepottery.
“Youdonottakemuchinterestinthisinquiry,monsieur?”saidPoirot.
Theothergaveaslowsmile.
“It’snotmyjob,yousee.I’maconnoisseurofsomethings,butnotofthis.SoIjuststandbackandkeepoutoftheway.I’velearntpatienceintheEast.”
TheInspectorcamebustlingin,apologizingforhavingbeensolongaway.Heinsistedontakingusovermostofthegroundagain,butfinallywegotaway.
“Imustappreciateyourthousandpolitenesses,Inspector,”saidPoirot,aswewerewalkingdownthevillagestreetagain.
“ThereisjustonemorerequestIshouldliketoputtoyou.”
“Youwanttoseethebody,perhaps,sir?”
“Oh,dearme,no!Ihavenottheleastinterestinthebody.IwanttoseeRobertGrant.”
“You’llhavetodrivebackwithmetoMoretontoseehim,sir.”
“Verywell,Iwilldoso.ButImustseehimandbeabletospeaktohimalone.”
TheInspectorcaressedhisupperlip.
“Well,Idon’tknowaboutthat,sir.”
“IassureyouthatifyoucangetthroughtoScotlandYardyouwillreceivefullauthority.”
“I’veheardofyou,ofcourse,sir,andIknowyou’vedoneusagoodturnnowandagain.Butit’sveryirregular.”
“Nevertheless,itisnecessary,”saidPoirotcalmly.“Itisnecessaryforthisreason—Grantisnotthemurderer.”
“What?Who,is,then?”
“Themurdererwas,Ishouldfancy,ayoungishman.HedroveuptoGraniteBungalowinatrap,whichheleftoutside.Hewentin,committedthemurder,cameout,anddroveawayagain.Hewasbareheaded,andhisclothingwasslightlybloodstained.”
“But—butthewholevillagewouldhaveseenhim!”
“Notundercertaincircumstances.”
“Notifitwasdark,perhaps;butthecrimewascommittedinbroaddaylight.”
Poirotmerelysmiled.
“Andthehorseandtrap,sir—howcouldyoutellthat?Anyamountofwheeledvehicleshavepassedalongoutside.There’snomarkofoneinparticulartobeseen.”
“Notwiththeeyesofthebody,perhaps;butwiththeeyesofthemind,yes.”
TheInspectortouchedhisforeheadsignificantlywithagrinatme.Iwasutterlybewildered,butIhadfaithinPoirot.FurtherdiscussionendedinouralldrivingbacktoMoretonwiththeInspector.PoirotandIweretakentoGrant,butaconstablewastobepresentduringtheinterview.Poirotwentstraighttothepoint.
“Grant,Iknowyoutobeinnocentofthiscrime.Relatetomeinyourownwordsexactlywhathappened.”
Theprisonerwasamanofmediumheight,withasomewhatunpleasingcastoffeatures.Helookedajailbirdifeveramandid.
“HonesttoGod,Ineverdidit,”hewhined.“Someoneputthoselittleglassfiguresamongstmytraps.Itwasaframe-up,that’swhatitwas.IwentstraighttomyroomswhenIcamein,likeIsaid.IneverknewathingtillBetsyscreechedout.S’welpme,God,Ididn’t.”
Poirotrose.
“Ifyoucan’ttellmethetruth,thatistheendofit.”
“But,guv’nor—”
“Youdidgointotheroom—youdidknowyourmasterwasdead;andyouwerejustpreparingtomakeaboltofitwhenthegoodBetsymadeherterriblediscovery.”
ThemanstaredatPoirotwithadroppedjaw.
“Comenow,isitnotso?Itellyousolemnly—onmywordofhonour—thattobefranknowisyouronlychance.”
“I’llriskit,”saidthemansuddenly.“Itwasjustasyousay.Icamein,andwentstraighttothemaster—andtherehewas,deadonthefloorandbloodallround.ThenIgotthewindupproper.They’dferretoutmyrecord,andforacertaintythey’dsayitwasmeashaddonehimin.Myonlythoughtwastogetaway—atonce—beforehewasfound—”
“Andthejadefigures?”
Themanhesitated.
“Yousee—”
“Youtookthembyakindofreversiontoinstinct,asitwere?Youhadheardyourmastersaythattheywerevaluable,andyoufeltyoumightaswellgothewholehog.That,Iunderstand.Now,answermethis.Wasitthesecondtimethatyouwentintotheroomthatyoutookthefigures?”
“Ididn’tgoinasecondtime.Oncewasenoughforme.”
“Youaresureofthat?”
“Absolutelycertain.”
“Good.Now,whendidyoucomeoutofprison?”
“Twomonthsago.”
“Howdidyouobtainthisjob?”
“ThroughoneofthemPrisoners’HelpSocieties.BlokemetmewhenIcameout.”
“Whatwashelike?”
“Notexactlyaparson,butlookedlikeone.Softblackhatandmincingwayofwalking.Gotabrokenfronttooth.Spectacledchap.Saundershisnamewas.SaidhehopedIwasrepentant,andthathe’dfindmeagoodpost.IwenttooldWhalleyonhisrecommendation.”
Poirotroseoncemore.
“Ithankyou.Iknowallnow.Havepatience.”Hepausedinthedoorwayandadded:“Saundersgaveyouapairofboots,didn’the?”
Grantlookedveryastonished.
“Why,yes,hedid.Buthowdidyouknow?”
“Itismybusinesstoknowthings,”saidPoirotgravely.
AfterawordortwototheInspector,thethreeofuswenttotheWhiteHartanddiscussedeggsandbaconandDevonshirecider.
“Anyelucidationsyet?”askedIngles,withasmile.
“Yes,thecaseisclearenoughnow;but,seeyou,Ishallhaveagooddealofdifficultyinprovingit.WhalleywaskilledbyorderoftheBigFour—butnotbyGrant.AveryclevermangotGrantthepostanddeliberatelyplannedtomakehimthescapegoat—aneasymatterwithGrant’sprisonrecord.Hegavehimapairofboots,oneoftwoduplicatepairs.Theotherhekepthimself.Itwasallsosimple.WhenGrantisoutofthehouse,andBetsyischattinginthevillage(whichsheprobablydideverydayofherlife),hedrivesupwearingtheduplicateboots,entersthekitchen,goesthroughintothelivingroom,fellstheoldmanwithablow,andthencutshisthroat.Thenhereturnstothekitchen,removestheboots,putsonanotherpair,and,carryingthefirstpair,goesouttohistrapanddrivesoffagain.”
IngleslookssteadilyatPoirot.
“There’sacatchinitstill.Whydidnobodyseehim?”
“Ah!ThatiswheretheclevernessofNumberFour,Iamconvinced,comesin.Everybodysawhim—andyetnobodysawhim.Yousee,hedroveupinabutcher’scart!”
Iutteredanexclamation.
“Thelegofmutton?”
“Exactly,Hastings,thelegofmutton.EverybodysworethatnoonehadbeentoGraniteBungalowthatmorning,but,nevertheless,Ifoundinthelarderalegofmutton,stillfrozen.ItwasMonday,sothemeatmusthavebeendeliveredthatmorning;forifonSaturday,inthishotweather,itwouldnothaveremainedfrozenoverSunday.SosomeonehadbeentotheBungalow,andamanonwhomatraceofbloodhereandtherewouldattractnoattention.”
“Damnedingenious!”criedInglesapprovingly.
“Yes,heisclever,NumberFour.”
“AscleverasHerculePoirot?”Imurmured.
Myfriendthrewmeaglanceofdignifiedreproach.
“Therearesomejeststhatyoushouldnotpermityourself,Hastings,”hesaidsententiously.“HaveInotsavedaninnocentmanfrombeingsenttothegallows?Thatisenoughforoneday.”
Five
DISAPPEARANCEOFASCIENTIST
Personally,Idon’tthinkthat,evenwhenajuryhadacquittedRobertGrant,aliasBiggs,ofthemurderofJonathanWhalley,InspectorMeadowswasentirelyconvincedofhisinnocence.ThecasewhichhehadbuiltupagainstGrant—theman’srecord,thejadewhichhehadstolen,thebootswhichfittedthefootprintssoexactly—wastohismatter-of-factmindtoocompletetobeeasilyupset;butPoirot,compelledmuchagainsthisinclinationtogiveevidence,convincedthejury.Twowitnesseswereproducedwhohadseenabutcher’scartdriveuptothebungalowonthatMondaymorning,andthelocalbutchertestifedthathiscartonlycalledthereonWednesdaysandFridays.
Awomanwasactuallyfoundwho,whenquestioned,rememberedseeingthebutcher’smanleavingthebungalow,butshecouldfurnishnousefuldescriptionofhim.Theonlyimpressionheseemedtohaveleftonhermindwasthathewascleanshaven,ofmediumheight,andlookedexactlylikeabutcher’sman.AtthisdescriptionPoirotshruggedhisshouldersphilosophically.
“ItisasItellyou,Hastings,”hesaidtome,afterthetrial.“Heisanartist,thisone.Hedisguiseshimselfnotwiththefalsebeardandthebluespectacles.Healtershisfeatures,yes;butthatistheleastpart.Forthetimebeingheisthemanhewouldbe.Helivesinhispart.”
CertainlyIwascompelledtoadmitthatthemanwhohadvisitedusfromHanwellhadfittedinexactlywithmyideaofwhatanasylumattendantshouldlooklike.Ishouldneverforamomenthavedreamtofdoubtingthathewasgenuine.
Itwasallalittlediscouraging,andourexperienceonDartmoordidnotseemtohavehelpedusatall.IsaidasmuchtoPoirot,buthewouldnotadmitthatwehadgainednothing.
“Weprogress,”hesaid;“weprogress.Ateverycontactwiththismanwelearnalittleofhismindandhismethods.Ofusandourplansheknowsnothing.”
“Andthere,Poirot,”Iprotested,“heandIseemtobeinthesameboat.Youdon’tseemtometohaveanyplans,youseemtositandwaitforhimtodosomething.”
Poirotsmiled.
“Monami,youdonotchange.AlwaysthesameHastings,whowouldbeupandattheirthroats.Perhaps,”headded,asaknocksoundedonthedoor,“youhavehereyourchance;itmaybeourfriendwhoenters.”AndhelaughedatmydisappointmentwhenInspectorJappandanothermanenteredtheroom.
“Goodevening,moosior,”saidtheInspector.“AllowmetointroduceCaptainKentoftheUnitedStatesSecretService.”
CaptainKentwasatall,leanAmerican,withasingularlyimpassivefacewhichlookedasthoughithadbeencarvedoutofwood.
“Pleasedtomeetyou,gentlemen,”hemurmured,asheshookhandsjerkily.
Poirotthrewanextralogonthefire,andbroughtforwardmoreeasychairs.Ibroughtoutglassesandthewhiskyandsoda.Thecaptaintookadeepdraught,andexpressedappreciation.
“Legislationinyourcountryisstillsound,”heobserved.
“Andnowtobusiness,”saidJapp.“MoosiorPoirotheremadeacertainrequesttome.HewasinterestedinsomeconcernthatwentbythenameoftheBigFour,andheaskedmetolethimknowatanytimeifIcameacrossamentionofitinmyofficiallineofbusiness.Ididn’ttakemuchstockinthematter,butIrememberedwhathesaid,andwhenthecaptainherecameoverwithratheracuriousstory,Isaidatonce,‘We’llgoroundtoMoosiorPoirot’s.’”
PoirotlookedacrossatCaptainKent,andtheAmericantookupthetale.
“Youmayrememberreading,M.Poirot,thatanumberoftorpedoboatsanddestroyersweresunkbybeingdashedupontherocksofftheAmericancoast.ItwasjustaftertheJapaneseearthquake,andtheexplanationgivenwasthatthedisasterwastheresultofatidalwave.Now,ashorttimeago,aroundupwasmadeofcertaincrooksandgunmen,andwiththemwerecapturedsomepaperswhichputanentirelynewfaceuponthematter.Theyappearedtorefertosomeorganizationcalledthe‘BigFour,’andgaveanincompletedescriptionofsomepowerfulwirelessinstallation—aconcentrationofwirelessenergyfarbeyondanythingsofarattempted,andcapableoffocusingabeamofgreatintensityuponsomegivenspot.Theclaimsmadeforthisinventionseemedmanifestlyabsurd,butIturnedthemintoheadquartersforwhattheywereworth,andoneofourhighbrowprofessorsgotbusyonthem.NowitappearsthatoneofyourBritishscientistsreadapaperuponthesubjectbeforetheBritishAssociation.Hiscolleaguesdidn’tthinkgreatshakesofit,byallaccounts,thoughtitfar-fetchedandfanciful,butyourscientiststucktohisguns,anddeclaredthathehimselfwasontheeveofsuccessinhisexperiments.”
“Ehbien?”demandedPoirot,withinterest.
“ItwassuggestedthatIshouldcomeoverhereandgetaninterviewwiththisgentleman.Quiteayoungfellow,heis,Hallidaybyname.Heistheleadingauthorityonthesubject,andIwastogetfromhimwhetherthethingsuggestedwasanywaypossible.”
“Andwasit?”Iaskedeagerly.
“That’sjustwhatIdon’tknow.Ihaven’tseenMr.Halliday—andI’mnotlikelyto,byallaccounts.”
“Thetruthofthematteris,”saidJappshortly,“Halliday’sdisappeared.”
“When?”
“Twomonthsago.”
“Washisdisappearancereported?”
“Ofcourseitwas.Hiswifecametousinagreatstate.Wedidwhatwecould,butIknewallalongitwouldbenogood.”
“Whynot?”
“Neveris—whenamandisappearsthatway.”Jappwinked.
“Whatway?”
“Paris.”
“SoHallidaydisappearedinParis?”
“Yes.Wentoverthereonscientificwork—sohesaid.Ofcourse,he’dhavetosaysomethinglikethat.Butyouknowwhatitmeanswhenamandisappearsoverthere.Eitherit’sApachework,andthat’stheendofit—orelseit’svoluntarydisappearance—andthat’sagreatdealthecommonerofthetwo,Icantellyou.GayPareeandallthat,youknow.Sickofhomelife.Hallidayandhiswifehadhadatiffbeforehestarted,whichallhelpstomakeitaprettyclearcase.”
“Iwonder,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.
TheAmericanwaslookingathimcuriously.
“Say,mister,”hedrawled,“what’sthisBigFouridea?”
“TheBigFour,”saidPoirot,“isaninternationalorganizationwhichhasatitsheadaChinaman.HeisknownasNumberOne.NumberTwoisanAmerican.NumberThreeisaFrenchwoman.NumberFour,‘theDestroyer,’isanEnglishman.”
“AFrenchwoman,eh?”TheAmericanwhistled.“AndHallidaydisappearedinFrance.Maybethere’ssomethinginthis.What’shername?”
“Idon’tknow.Iknownothingabouther.”
“Butit’samightybigproposition,eh?”suggestedtheother.
Poirotnodded,ashearrangedtheglassesinaneatrowonthetray.Hisloveoforderwasasgreatasever.
“Whatwastheideainsinkingthoseboats?AretheBigFouraGermanstunt?”
“TheBigFourareforthemselves—andforthemselvesonly,M.leCapitaine.Theiraimisworlddomination.”
TheAmericanburstoutlaughing,butbrokeoffatthesightofPoirot’sseriousface.
“Youlaugh,monsieur,”saidPoirot,shakingafingerathim.“Youreflectnot—youusenotthelittlegreycellsofthebrain.Whoarethesemenwhosendaportionofyournavytodestructionsimplyasatrialoftheirpower?Forthatwasallitwas,Monsieur,atestofthisnewforceofmagneticalattractionwhichtheyhold.”
“Goonwithyou,moosior,”saidJappgood-humouredly.I’vereadofsupercriminalsmanyatime,butI’venevercomeacrossthem.Well,you’veheardCaptainKent’sstory.AnythingfurtherIcandoforyou?”
“Yes,mygoodfriend.YoucangivemetheaddressofMrs.Halliday—andalsoafewwordsofintroductiontoherifyouwillbesokind.”
ThusitwasthatthefollowingdaysawusboundforChetwyndLodge,nearthevillageofChobhaminSurrey.
Mrs.Hallidayreceivedusatonce,atall,fairwoman,nervousandeagerinmanner.Withherwasherlittlegirl,abeautifulchildoffive.
Poirotexplainedthepurposeofourvisit.
“Oh!M.Poirot,Iamsoglad,sothankful.Ihaveheardofyou,ofcourse.YouwillnotbeliketheseScotlandYardpeople,whowillnotlistenortrytounderstand.AndtheFrenchpolicearejustasbad—worse,Ithink.Theyareallconvincedthatmyhusbandhasgoneoffwithsomeotherwoman.Buthewasn’tlikethat!Allhethoughtofinlifewashiswork.Halfourquarrelscamefromthat.Hecaredforitmorethanhedidforme.”
“Englishmen,theyarelikethat,”saidPoirotsoothingly.“Andifitisnotwork,itisthegames,thesport.Allthosethingstheytakeaugrandsérieux.Now,madame,recounttomeexactly,indetail,andasmethodicallyasyoucan,theexactcircumstancesofyourhusband’sdisappearance.”
“MyhusbandwenttoParisonThursday,the20thofJuly.Hewastomeetandvisitvariouspeoplethereconnectedwithhiswork,amongstthemMadameOlivier.”
PoirotnoddedatthementionofthefamousFrenchwomanchemist,whohadeclipsedevenMadameCurieinthebrillianceofherachievements.ShehadbeendecoratedbytheFrenchGovernment,andwasoneofthemostprominentpersonalitiesoftheday.
“HearrivedthereintheeveningandwentatoncetotheHotelCastiglioneintheruedeCastiglione.OnthefollowingmorninghehadanappointmentwithProfessorBourgoneau,whichhekept.Hismannerwasnormalandpleasant.Thetwomenhadamostinterestingconversation,anditwasarrangedthatheshouldwitnesssomeexperimentsintheprofessor’slaboratoryonthefollowingday.HelunchedaloneattheCaféRoyal,wentforawalkintheBois,andthenvisitedMadameOlivieratherhouseatPassy.There,also,hismannerwasperfectlynormal.Heleftaboutsix.Wherehedinedisnotknown,probablyaloneatsomerestaurant.Hereturnedtothehotelabouteleveno’clockandwentstraightuptohisroom,afterinquiringifanylettershadcomeforhim.Onthefollowingmorning,hewalkedoutofthehotel,andhasnotbeenseenagain.”
“Atwhattimedidheleavethehotel?AtthehourwhenhewouldnormallyleaveittokeephisappointmentatProfessorBourgoneau’slaboratory?”
“Wedonotknow.Hewasnotremarkedleavingthehotel.Butnopetitdéjeunerwasservedtohim,whichseemstoindicatethathewentoutearly.”
“Orhemight,infact,havegoneoutagainafterhecameinthenightbefore?”
“Idonotthinkso.Hisbedhadbeensleptin,andthenightporterwouldhaverememberedanyonegoingoutatthathour.”
“Averyjustobservation,madame.Wemaytakeit,then,thatheleftearlyonthefollowingmorning—andthatisreassuringfromonepointofview.HeisnotlikelytohavefallenavictimtoanyApacheassaultatthathour.Hisbaggage,now,wasitallleftbehind?”
Mrs.Hallidayseemedratherreluctanttoanswer,butatlastshesaid:
“No—hemusthavetakenonesmallsuitcasewithhim.”
“H’m,”saidPoirotthoughtfully,“Iwonderwherehewasthatevening.Ifweknewthat,weshouldknowagreatdeal.Whomdidhemeet?—thereliesthemystery.Madame,myself,Idonotofnecessityaccepttheviewofthepolice;withthemisitalways‘Cherchezlafemme.’Yetitisclearthatsomethingoccurredthatnighttoalteryourhusband’splans.Yousayheaskedforlettersonreturningtothehotel.Didhereceiveany?”
“Oneonly,andthatmusthavebeentheoneIwrotehimonthedayheleftEngland.”
Poirotremainedsunkinthoughtforafullminute,thenherosebrisklytohisfeet.
“Well,madame,thesolutionofthemysteryliesinParis,andtofinditImyselfjourneytoParisontheinstant.”
“Itisallalongtimeago,monsieur.”
“Yes,yes.Nevertheless,itistherethatwemustseek.”
Heturnedtoleavetheroom,butpausedwithhishandonthedoor.
“Tellme,madame,doyoueverrememberyourhusbandmentioningthephrase,‘TheBigFour?’”
“TheBigFour,”sherepeatedthoughtfully.“No,Ican’tsayIdo.”
Six
THEWOMANONTHESTAIRS
ThatwasallthatcouldbeelicitedfromMrs.Halliday.WehurriedbacktoLondon,andthefollowingdaysawusenroutefortheContinent.Withratheraruefulsmile,Poirotobserved:
“ThisBigFour,theymakemetobestirmyself,monami.Irunupanddown,allovertheground,likeouroldfriend‘thehumanfoxhound.’”
“Perhapsyou’llmeethiminParis,”Isaid,knowingthathereferredtoacertainGiraud,oneofthemosttrusteddetectivesoftheS?reté,whomhehadmetonapreviousoccasion.
Poirotmadeagrimace.“Idevoutlyhopenot.Helovedmenot,thatone.”
“Won’titbeaverydifficulttask?”Iasked.“TofindoutwhatanunknownEnglishmandidonaneveningtwomonthsago?”
“Verydifficult,monami.Butasyouknowwell,difficultiesrejoicetheheartofHerculePoirot.”
“YouthinktheBigFourkidnappedhim?”
Poirotnodded.
Ourinquiriesnecessarilywentoveroldground,andwelearntlittletoaddtowhatMrs.Hallidayhadalreadytoldus.PoirothadalengthyinterviewwithProfessorBourgoneau,duringwhichhesoughttoelicitwhetherHallidayhadmentionedanyplanofhisownfortheevening,butwedrewacompleteblank.
OurnextsourceofinformationwasthefamousMadameOlivier.IwasquiteexcitedaswemountedthestepsofhervillaatPassy.Ithasalwaysseemedtomeextraordinarythatawomanshouldgosofarinthescientificworld.Ishouldhavethoughtapurelymasculinebrainwasneededforsuchwork.
Thedoorwasopenedbyayoungladofseventeenorthereabouts,whoremindedmevaguelyofanacolyte,soritualisticwashismanner.Poirothadtakenthetroubletoarrangeourinterviewbeforehand,asheknewMadameOlivierneverreceivedanyonewithoutanappointment,beingimmersedinresearchworkmostoftheday.
Wewereshownintoasmallsalon,andpresentlythemistressofthehousecametousthere.MadameOlivierwasaverytallwoman,hertallnessaccentuatedbythelongwhiteoverallshewore,andacoiflikeanun’sthatshroudedherhead.Shehadalongpaleface,andwonderfuldarkeyesthatburntwithalightalmostfanatical.ShelookedmorelikeapriestessofoldthanamodernFrenchwoman.Onecheekwasdisfiguredbyascar,andIrememberedthatherhusbandandcoworkerhadbeenkilledinanexplosioninthelaboratorythreeyearsbefore,andthatsheherselfhadbeenterriblyburned.Eversincethenshehadshutherselfawayfromtheworld,andplungedwithfieryenergyintotheworkofscientificresearch.Shereceiveduswithcoldpoliteness.
“Ihavebeeninterviewedbythepolicemanytimes,messieurs.IthinkithardlylikelythatIcanhelpyou,sinceIhavenotbeenabletohelpthem.”
“Madame,itispossiblethatIshallnotaskyouquitethesamequestions.Tobeginwith,ofwhatdidyoutalktogether,youandM.Halliday?”
Shelookedatriflesurprised.
“Butofhiswork!Hiswork—andalsomine.”
“DidhementiontoyouthetheorieshehadembodiedrecentlyinhispaperreadbeforetheBritishAssociation?”
“Certainlyhedid.Itwaschieflyofthosewespoke.”
“Hisideasweresomewhatfantastic,weretheynot?”askedPoirotcarelessly.
“Somepeoplehavethoughtso.Idonotagree.”
“Youconsiderthempracticable?”
“Perfectlypracticable.Myownlineofresearchhasbeensomewhatsimilar,thoughnotundertakenwiththesameendinview.IhavebeeninvestigatingthegammaraysemittedbythesubstanceusuallyknownasRadiumC,aproductofRadiumemanation,andindoingsoIhavecomeacrosssomeveryinterestingmagneticalphenomena.Indeed,Ihaveatheoryastotheactualnatureoftheforcewecallmagnetism,butitisnotyettimeformydiscoveriestobegiventotheworld.Mr.Halliday’sexperimentsandviewswereexceedinglyinterestingtome.”
Poirotnodded.Thenheaskedaquestionwhichsurprisedme.
“Madame,wheredidyouconverseonthesetopics?Inhere?”
“No,monsieur.Inthelaboratory.”
“MayIseeit?”
“Certainly.”
Sheledthewaytothedoorfromwhichshehadentered.Itopenedonasmallpassage.Wepassedthroughtwodoorsandfoundourselvesinthebiglaboratory,withitsarrayofbeakersandcruciblesandahundredappliancesofwhichIdidnotevenknowthenames.Thereweretwooccupants,bothbusywithsomeexperiment.MadameOlivierintroducedthem.
“MademoiselleClaude,oneofmyassistants.”Atall,serious-facedyounggirlbowedtous.“MonsieurHenri,anoldandtrustedfriend.”
Theyoungman,shortanddark,bowedjerkily.
Poirotlookedroundhim.Thereweretwootherdoorsbesidestheonebywhichwehadentered.One,madameexplained,ledintothegarden,theotherintoasmallerchamberalsodevotedtoresearch.Poirottookallthisin,thendeclaredhimselfreadytoreturntothesalon.
“Madame,wereyoualonewithM.Hallidayduringyourinterview?”
“Yes,monsieur.Mytwoassistantswereinthesmallerroomnextdoor.”
“Couldyourconversationbeoverheard—bythemoranyoneelse?”
Madamereflected,thenshookherhead.
“Idonotthinkso.Iamalmostsureitcouldnot.Thedoorswereallshut.”
“Couldanyonehavebeenconcealedintheroom?”
“Thereisthebigcupboardinthecorner—buttheideaisabsurd.”
“Pastoutàfait,madame.Onethingmore:didM.Hallidaymakeanymentionofhisplansfortheevening?”
“Hesaidnothingwhatever,monsieur.”
“Ithankyou,madame,andIapologizefordisturbingyou.Praydonottrouble—wecanfindourwayout.”
Westeppedoutintothehall.Aladywasjustenteringthefrontdooraswedidso.Sheranquicklyupthestairs,andIwasleftwithanimpressionoftheheavymourningthatdenotesaFrenchwidow.
“Amostunusualtypeofwoman,that,”remarkedPoirot,aswewalkedaway.
“MadameOlivier?Yes,she—”
“Maisnon,notMadameOlivier.Celavasansdire!Therearenotmanygeniusesofherstampintheworld.No,Ireferredtotheotherlady—theladyonthestairs.”
“Ididn’tseeherface,”Isaid,staring.“AndIhardlyseehowyoucouldhavedone.Sheneverlookedatus.”
“ThatiswhyIsaidshewasanunusualtype,”saidPoirotplacidly.“Awomanwhoentersherhome—forIpresumethatitisherhomesincesheenterswithakey—andrunsstraightupstairswithoutevenlookingattwostrangevisitorsinthehalltoseewhotheyare,isaveryunusualtypeofwoman—quiteunnatural,infact.Milletonnerres!whatisthat?”
Hedraggedmeback—justintime.Atreehadcrasheddownontothesidewalk,justmissingus.Poirotstaredatit,paleandupset.
“Itwasanearthingthat!Butclumsy,allthesame—forIhadnosuspicion—atleasthardlyanysuspicion.Yes,butformyquickeyes,theeyesofacat,HerculePoirotmightnowbecrushedoutofexistence—aterriblecalamityfortheworld.Andyou,too,monami—thoughthatwouldnotbesuchanationalcatastrophe.”
“Thankyou,”Isaidcoldly.“Andwhatarewegoingtodonow?”
“Do?”criedPoirot.“Wearegoingtothink.Yes,hereandnow,wearegoingtoexerciseourlittlegreycells.ThisM.Hallidaynow,washereallyinParis?Yes,forProfessorBourgoneau,whoknowshim,sawandspoketohim.”
“Whatonearthareyoudrivingat?”Icried.
“ThatwasFridaymorning.HewaslastseenatelevenFridaynight—butwasheseenthen?”
“Theporter—”
“Anightporter—whohadnotpreviouslyseenHalliday.Amancomesin,sufficientlylikeHalliday—wemaytrustNumberFourforthat—asksforletters,goesupstairs,packsasmallsuitcase,andslipsoutthenextmorning.NobodysawHallidayallthatevening—no,becausehewasalreadyinthehandsofhisenemies.WasitHallidaywhomMadameOlivierreceived?Yes,forthoughshedidnotknowhimbysight,animpostercouldhardlydeceiveheronherownspecialsubject.Hecamehere,hehadhisinterview,heleft.Whathappenednext?”
Seizingmebythearm,Poirotwasfairlydraggingmebacktothevilla.
“Now,monami,imaginethatitisthedayafterthedisappearance,andthatwearetrackingfootprints.Youlovefootprints,doyounot?See—heretheygo,aman’s,M.Halliday’s…Heturnstotherightaswedid,hewalksbriskly—ah!otherfootstepsfollowingbehind—veryquickly—smallfootsteps,awoman’s.See,shecatcheshimup—aslimyoungwoman,inawidow’sveil.‘Pardon,monsieur,MadameOlivierdesiresthatIrecallyou.’Hestops,heturns.Nowwherewouldtheyoungwomantakehim?Isitcoincidencethatshecatchesupwithhimjustwhereanarrowalleywayopens,dividingtwogardens?Sheleadshimdownit.‘Itisshorterthisway,monsieur.’OntherightisthegardenofMadameOlivier’svilla,ontheleftthegardenofanothervilla—andfromthatgarden,markyou,thetreefell—sonearlyonus.Gardendoorsfrombothopenonthealley.Theambushisthere.Menpourout,overpowerhim,andcarryhimintothestrangevilla.”
“Goodgracious,Poirot,”Icried,“areyoupretendingtoseeallthis?”
“Iseeitwiththeeyesofthemind,monami.So,andonlyso,couldithavehappened.Come,letusgobacktothehouse.”
“YouwanttoseeMadameOlivieragain?”
Poirotgaveacurioussmile.
“No,Hastings,Iwanttoseethefaceoftheladyonthestairs.”
“Whodoyouthinksheis,arelationofMadameOlivier’s?”
“Moreprobablyasecretary—andasecretaryengagednotverylongago.”
Thesamegentleacolyteopenedthedoortous.
“Canyoutellme,”saidPoirot,“thenameofthelady,thewidowlady,whocameinjustnow?”
“MadameVeroneau?Madame’ssecretary?”
“Thatisthelady.Wouldyoubesokindastoaskhertospeaktousforamoment.”
Theyouthdisappeared.Hesoonreappeared.
“Iamsorry.MadameVeroneaumusthavegoneoutagain.”
“Ithinknot,”saidPoirotquietly.“Willyougivehermyname,M.HerculePoirot,andsaythatitisimportantIshouldseeheratonce,asIamjustgoingtothePréfecture.”
Againourmessengerdeparted.Thistimetheladydescended.Shewalkedintothesalon.Wefollowedher.Sheturnedandraisedherveil.TomyastonishmentIrecognizedouroldantagonist,theCountessRossakoff,aRussiancountess,whohadengineeredaparticularlysmartjewelrobberyinLondon.
“AssoonasIcaughtsightofyouinthehall,Ifearedtheworst,”sheobservedplaintively.
“MydearCountessRossakoff—”
Sheshookherhead.
“InezVeroneaunow,”shemurmured.“ASpaniard,marriedtoaFrenchman.Whatdoyouwantofme,M.Poirot?Youareaterribleman.YouhuntedmefromLondon.Now,Isuppose,youwilltellourwonderfulMadameOlivieraboutme,andhuntmefromParis?WepoorRussians,wemustlive,youknow.”
“Itismoreseriousthanthat,madame,”saidPoirot,watchingher.“Iproposetoenterthevillanextdoor,andreleaseM.Halliday,ifheisstillalive.Iknoweverything,yousee.”
Isawhersuddenpallor.Shebitherlip.Thenshespokewithherusualdecision.
“Heisstillalive—butheisnotatthevilla.Come,monsieur,Iwillmakeabargainwithyou.Freedomforme—andM.Halliday,aliveandwell,foryou.”
“Iaccept,”saidPoirot.“Iwasabouttoproposethesamebargainmyself.Bytheway,aretheBigFouryouremployers,madame?”
AgainIsawthatdeathlypallorcreepoverherface,butshelefthisquestionunanswered.
Instead,“Youpermitmetotelephone?”sheasked,andcrossingtotheinstrumentsherangupanumber.“Thenumberofthevilla,”sheexplained,“whereourfriendisnowimprisoned.Youmaygiveittothepolice—thenestwillbeemptywhentheyarrive.Ah!Iamthrough.Isthatyou,André?ItisI,Inez.ThelittleBelgianknowsall.SendHallidaytothehotel,andclearout.”
Shereplacedthereceiver,andcametowardsus,smiling.
“Youwillaccompanyustothehotel,madame.”
“Naturally.Iexpectedthat.”
Igotataxi,andwedroveofftogether.IcouldseebyPoirot’sfacethathewasperplexed.Thethingwasalmosttooeasy.Wearrivedatthehotel.Theportercameuptous.
“Agentlemanhasarrived.Heisinyourrooms.Heseemsveryill.Anursecamewithhim,butshehasleft.”
“Thatisallright,”saidPoirot,“heisafriendofmine.”
Wewentupstairstogether.Sittinginachairbythewindowwasahaggardyoungfellowwholookedinthelaststagesofexhaustion.Poirotwentovertohim.
“AreyouJohnHalliday?”Themannodded.“Showmeyourleftarm.JohnHallidayhasamolejustbelowtheleftelbow.”
Themanstretchedouthisarm.Themolewasthere.Poirotbowedtothecountess.Sheturnedandlefttheroom.
AglassofbrandyrevivedHallidaysomewhat.
“MyGod!”hemuttered.“Ihavebeenthroughhell—hell…Thosefiendsaredevilsincarnate.Mywife,whereisshe?Whatdoesshethink?Theytoldmethatshewouldbelieve—wouldbelieve—”
“Shedoesnot,”saidPoirotfirmly.“Herfaithinyouhasneverwavered.Sheiswaitingforyou—sheandthechild.”
“ThankGodforthat.IcanhardlybelievethatIamfreeoncemore.”
“Nowthatyouarealittlerecovered,monsieur,Ishouldliketohearthewholestoryfromthebeginning.”
Hallidaylookedathimwithanindescribableexpression.
“Iremember—nothing,”hesaid.
“What?”
“HaveyoueverheardoftheBigFour?”
“Somethingofthem,”saidPoirotdryly.
“YoudonotknowwhatIknow.Theyhaveunlimitedpower.IfIremainsilent,Ishallbesafe—ifIsayoneword—notonlyI,butmynearestanddearestwillsufferunspeakablethings.Itisnogoodarguingwithme.Iknow…Iremember—nothing.”
And,gettingup,hewalkedfromtheroom.
Poirot’sfaceworeabaffledexpression.
“Soitislikethat,isit?”hemuttered.“TheBigFourwinagain.Whatisthatyouareholdinginyourhand,Hastings?”
Ihandedittohim.
“Thecountessscribbleditbeforesheleft,”Iexplained.
Hereadit.
“Aurevoir.—I.V.”
“Signedwithherinitials—I.V.Justacoincidence,perhaps,thattheyalsostandforFour.Iwonder,Hastings,Iwonder.”
Seven
THERADIUMTHIEVES
Onthenightofhisrelease,Hallidaysleptintheroomnexttooursatthehotel,andallnightlongIheardhimmoaningandprotestinginhissleep.Undoubtedlyhisexperienceinthevillahadbrokenhisnerve,andinthemorningwefailedcompletelytoextractanyinformationfromhim.HewouldonlyrepeathisstatementabouttheunlimitedpoweratthedisposaloftheBigFour,andhisassuranceofthevengeancewhichwouldfollowifhetalked.
AfterlunchhedepartedtorejoinhiswifeinEngland,butPoirotandIremainedbehindinParis.Iwasallforenergeticproceedingsofsomekindorother,andPoirot’squiescenceannoyedme.
“ForHeaven’ssake,Poirot,”Iurged,“letusbeupandatthem.”
“Admirable,monami,admirable!Upwhere,andatwhom?Beprecise,Ibegofyou.”
“AttheBigFour,ofcourse.”
“Celavasansdire.Buthowwouldyousetaboutit?”
“Thepolice,”Ihazardeddoubtfully.
Poirotsmiled.
“Theywouldaccuseusofromancing.Wehavenothingtogoupon—nothingwhatever.Wemustwait.”
“Waitforwhat?”
“Waitforthemtomakeamove.Seenow,inEnglandyouallcomprehendandadorelaboxe.Ifonemandoesnotmakeamove,theothermust,andbypermittingtheadversarytomaketheattackonelearnssomethingabouthim.Thatisourpart—tolettheothersidemaketheattack.”
“Youthinktheywill?”Isaiddoubtfully.
“Ihavenodoubtwhateverofit.Tobeginwith,see,theytrytogetmeoutofEngland.Thatfails.Then,intheDartmooraffair,westepinandsavetheirvictimfromthegallows.Andyesterday,onceagain,weinterferewiththeirplans.Assuredly,theywillnotleavethematterthere.”
AsIreflectedonthis,therewasaknockonthedoor.Withoutwaitingforareply,amansteppedintotheroomandclosedthedoorbehindhim.Hewasatall,thinman,withaslightlyhookednoseandasallowcomplexion.Heworeanovercoatbuttoneduptohischin,andasofthatwellpulleddownoverhiseyes
“Excuseme,gentlemen,formysomewhatunceremoniousentry,”hesaidinasoftvoice,“butmybusinessisofaratherunorthodoxnature.”
Smiling,headvancedtothetableandsatdownbyit.Iwasabouttospringup,butPoirotrestrainedmewithagesture.
“Asyousay,monsieur,yourentryissomewhatunceremonious.Willyoukindlystateyourbusiness?”
“MydearM.Poirot,itisverysimple.Youhavebeenannoyingmyfriends.”
“Inwhatway?”
“Come,come,M.Poirot.Youdonotseriouslyaskmethat?YouknowaswellasIdo.”
“Itdepends,monsieur,uponwhothesefriendsofyoursare.”
Withoutaword,themandrewfromhispocketacigarettecase,and,openingit,tookoutfourcigarettesandtossedthemonthetable.Thenhepickedthemupandreturnedthemtohiscase,whichhereplacedinhispocket.
“Aha!”saidPoirot,“soitislikethat,isit?Andwhatdoyourfriendssuggest?”
“Theysuggest,monsieur,thatyoushouldemployyourtalents—yourveryconsiderabletalents—inthedetectionoflegitimatecrime—returntoyourformeravocations,andsolvetheproblemsofLondonsocietyladies.”
“Apeacefulprogramme,”saidPoirot.“AndsupposingIdonotagree?”
Themanmadeaneloquentgesture.
“Weshouldregretit,ofcourse,exceedingly,”hesaid.“SowouldallthefriendsandadmirersofthegreatM.HerculePoirot.Butregrets,howeverpoignant,donotbringamantolifeagain.”
“Putverydelicately,”saidPoirot,noddinghishead.“AndsupposingI—accept?”
“InthatcaseIamempoweredtoofferyou—compensation.”
Hedrewoutapocketbook,andthrewtennotesonthetable.Theywerefortenthousandfrancseach.
“Thatismerelyaguaranteeofourgoodfaith,”hesaid.“Tentimesthatamountwillbepaidyou.”
“GoodGod,”Icried,springingup,“youdaretothink—”
“Sitdown,Hastings,”saidPoirotautocratically.“Subdueyoursobeautifulandhonestnatureandsitdown.Toyou,monsieur,Iwillsaythis.Whatistopreventmeringingupthepoliceandgivingyouintotheircustody,whilstmyfriendherepreventsyoufromescaping?”
“Byallmeansdosoifyouthinkitadvisable,”saidourvisitorcalmly.
“Oh!lookhere,Poirot,”Icried.“Ican’tstandthis.Ringupthepoliceandhavedonewithit.”
Risingswiftly,Istrodetothedoorandstoodwithmybackagainstit.
“Itseemstheobviouscourse,”murmuredPoirot,asthoughdebatingwithhimself.
“Butyoudistrusttheobvious,eh?”saidourvisitor,smiling.
“Goon,Poirot,”Iurged.
“Itwillbeyourresponsibility,monami.”
Asheliftedthereceiver,themanmadeasudden,catlikejumpatme.Iwasreadyforhim.Inanotherminutewewerelockedtogether,staggeringroundtheroom.SuddenlyIfelthimslipandfalter.Ipressedmyadvantage.Hewentdownbeforeme.Andthen,intheveryflushofvictory,anextraordinarythinghappened.Ifeltmyselfflyingforwards.Headfirst,Icrashedintothewallinacomplicatedheap.Iwasupinaminute,butthedoorwasalreadyclosingbehindmylateadversary.Irushedtoitandshookit,itwaslockedontheoutside.IseizedthetelephonefromPoirot.
“Isthatthebureau?Stopamanwhoiscomingout.Atallman,withabuttoned-upovercoatandasofthat.Heiswantedbythepolice.”
Veryfewminuteselapsedbeforeweheardanoiseinthecorridoroutside.Thekeywasturnedandthedoorflungopen.Themanagerhimselfstoodinthedoorway.
“Theman—youhavegothim?”Icried.
“No,monsieur.Noonehasdescended.”
“Youmusthavepassedhim.”
“Wehavepassednoone,monsieur.Itisincrediblethathecanhaveescaped.”
“Youhavepassedsomeone,Ithink,”saidPoirot,inhisgentlevoice.“Oneofthehotelstaff,perhaps?”
“Onlyawaitercarryingatray,monsieur.”
“Ah!”saidPoirot,inatonethatspokeinfinities.
“Sothatwaswhyheworehisovercoatbuttoneduptohischin,”musedPoirot,whenwehadfinallygotridoftheexcitedhotelofficials.
“I’mawfullysorry,Poirot,”Imurmured,rathercrestfallen.“IthoughtI’ddownedhimallright.”
“Yes,thatwasaJapanesetrick,Ifancy.Donotdistressyourself,monami.Allwentaccordingtoplan—hisplan.ThatiswhatIwanted.”
“What’sthis?”Icried,pouncingonabrownobjectthatlayonthefloor.
Itwasaslimpocketbookofbrownleather,andhadevidentlyfallenfromourvisitor’spocketduringhisstrugglewithme.ItcontainedtworeceiptedbillsinthenameofM.FelixLaon,andafolded-uppieceofpaperwhichmademyheartbeatfaster.Itwasahalfsheetofnotepaperonwhichafewwordswerescrawledinpencil,buttheywerewordsofsupremeimportance.
“ThenextmeetingofthecouncilwillbeonFridayat34ruedesEchellesat11a.m.”
Itwassignedwithabigfigure4.
AndtodaywasFriday,andtheclockonthemantelpieceshowedthehourtobe10:30.
“MyGod,whatachance!”Icried.“Fateisplayingintoourhands.Wemuststartatonce,though.Whatstupendousluck.”
“Sothatwaswhyhecame,”murmuredPoirot.“Iseeitallnow.”
“Seewhat?Comeon,Poirot,don’tstaydaydreamingthere.”
Poirotlookedatme,andslowlyshookhishead,smilingashedidso.
“‘Willyouwalkintomyparlour,saidthespidertothefly?’ThatisyourlittleEnglishnurseryrhyme,isitnot?No,no—theyaresubtle—butnotsosubtleasHerculePoirot.”
“Whatonearthareyoudrivingat,Poirot?”
“Myfriend,Ihavebeenaskingmyselfthereasonofthismorning’svisit.Didourvisitorreallyhopetosucceedinbribingme?Or,alternatively,infrighteningmeintoabandoningmytask?Itseemedhardlycredible.Why,then,didhecome?AndnowIseethewholeplan—veryneat—verypretty—theostensiblereasontobribeorfrightenme—thenecessarystrugglewhichhetooknopainstoavoid,andwhichshouldmakethedroppedpocketbooknaturalandreasonable—andfinally—thepitfall!RuedesEchelles,11a.m.?Ithinknot,monami!OnedoesnotcatchHerculePoirotaseasilyasthat.”
“Goodheavens,”Igasped.
Poirotwasfrowningtohimself.
“ThereisstillonethingIdonotunderstand.”
“Whatisthat?”
“Thetime,Hastings—thetime.Iftheywantedtodecoymeaway,surelynighttimewouldbebetter?Whythisearlyhour?Isitpossiblethatsomethingisabouttohappenthismorning?SomethingwhichtheyareanxiousHerculePoirotshouldnotknowabout?”
Heshookhishead.
“Weshallsee.HereIsit,monami.Wedonotstiroutthismorning.Weawaiteventshere.”
Itwasathalfpastelevenexactlythatthesummonscame.Apetitbleu.Poirottoreitopen,thenhandedittome.ItwasfromMadameOlivier,theworld-famousscientist,whomwehadvisitedyesterdayinconnectionwiththeHallidaycase.ItaskedustocomeouttoPassyatonce.
Weobeyedthesummonswithoutaninstant’sdelay.MadameOlivierreceivedusinthesamesmallsalon.Iwasstruckanewwiththewonderfulpowerofthiswoman,withherlongnun’sfaceandburningeyes—thisbrilliantsuccessorofBecquerelandtheCuries.Shecametothepointatonce.
“Messieurs,youinterviewedmeyesterdayaboutthedisappearanceofM.Halliday.Inowlearnthatyoureturnedtothehouseasecondtime,andaskedtoseemysecretary,InezVeroneau.Sheleftthehousewithyou,andhasnotreturnedheresince.”
“Isthatall,madame?”
“No,monsieur,itisnot.Lastnightthelaboratorywasbrokeninto,andseveralvaluablepapersandmemorandawerestolen.Thethieveshadatryforsomethingmorepreciousstill,butluckilytheyfailedtoopenthebigsafe.”
“Madame,thesearethefactsofthecase.Yourlatesecretary,MadameVeroneau,wasreallytheCountessRossakoff,anexpertthief,anditwasshewhowasresponsibleforthedisappearanceofM.Halliday.Howlonghadshebeenwithyou?”
“Fivemonths,Monsieur.Whatyousayamazesme.”
“Itistrue,nevertheless.Thesepapers,weretheyeasytofind?Ordoyouthinkaninsideknowledgewasshown?”
“Itisrathercuriousthatthethievesknewexactlywheretolook.YouthinkInez—”
“Yes,Ihavenodoubtthatitwasuponherinformationthattheyacted.Butwhatisthispreciousthingthatthethievesfailedtofind?Jewels?”
MadameOliviershookherheadwithafaintsmile.
“Somethingmuchmorepreciousthanthat,monsieur.”Shelookedroundher,thenbentforward,loweringhervoice.“Radium,monsieur.”
“Radium?”
“Yes,monsieur.Iamnowatthecruxofmyexperiments.Ipossessasmallportionofradiummyself—morehasbeenlenttomefortheprocessIamatworkupon.Smallthoughtheactualquantityis,itcomprisesalargeamountoftheworld’sstockandrepresentsavalueofmillionsoffrancs.”
“Andwhereisit?”
“Initsleadencaseinthebigsafe—thesafepurposelyappearstobeofanoldandworn-outpattern,butitisreallyatriumphofthesafe-maker’sart.Thatisprobablywhythethieveswereunabletoopenit.”
“Howlongareyoukeepingthisradiuminyourpossession?”
“Onlyfortwodaysmore,monsieur.Thenmyexperimentswillbeconcluded.”
Poirot’seyesbrightened.
“AndInezVeroneauisawareofthefact?Good—thenourfriendswillcomeback.Notawordofmetoanyone,madame.Butrestassured,Iwillsaveyourradiumforyou.Youhaveakeyofthedoorleadingfromthelaboratorytothegarden?”
“Yes,monsieur.Hereitis.Ihaveaduplicateformyself.Andhereisthekeyofthegardendoorleadingoutintothealleywaybetweenthisvillaandthenextone.”
“Ithankyou,madame.Tonight,gotobedasusual,havenofears,andleavealltome.Butnotawordtoanyone—nottoyourtwoassistants—MademoiselleClaudeandMonsieurHenri,isitnot?—particularlynotawordtothem.”
Poirotleftthevillarubbinghishandsingreatsatisfaction.
“Whatarewegoingtodonow?”Iasked.
“Now,Hastings,weareabouttoleaveParis—forEngland.”
“What?”
“Wewillpackoureffects,havelunch,anddrivetotheGareduNord.”
“Buttheradium?”
“IsaidweweregoingtoleaveforEngland—Ididnotsayweweregoingtoarrivethere.Reflectamoment,Hastings.Itisquitecertainthatwearebeingwatchedandfollowed.OurenemiesmustbelievethatwearegoingbacktoEngland,andtheycertainlywillnotbelievethatunlesstheyseeusgetonboardthetrainandstart.”
“Doyoumeanwearetoslipoffagainatthelastminute?”
“No,Hastings.Ourenemieswillbesatisfiedwithnothinglessthanabonafidedeparture.”
“Butthetraindoesn’tstopuntilCalais?”
“Itwillstopifitispaidtodoso.”
“Oh,comenow,Poirot—surelyyoucan’tpayanexpresstostop—they’drefuse.”
“Mydearfriend,haveyouneverremarkedthelittlehandle—thesignald’arrêt—penaltyforimproperuse,100francs,Ithink?”
“Oh!youaregoingtopullthat?”
“Orratherafriendofmine,PierreCombeau,willdoso.Then,whileheisarguingwiththeguard,andmakingabigscene,andallthetrainisagogwithinterest,youandIwillfadequietlyaway.”
WedulycarriedoutPoirot’splan.PierreCombeau,anoldcronyofPoirot’s,andwhoevidentlyknewmylittlefriend’smethodsprettywell,fellinwiththearrangements.ThecommunicationcordwaspulledjustaswegottotheoutskirtsofParis.Combeau“madeascene”inthemostapprovedFrenchfashion,andPoirotandIwereabletoleavethetrainwithoutanyonebeinginterestedinourdeparture.Ourfirstproceedingwastomakeaconsiderablechangeinourappearance.Poirothadbroughtthematerialsforthiswithhiminasmallcase.Twoloafersindirtyblueblousesweretheresult.Wehaddinnerinanobscurehostelry,andstartedbacktoParisafterwards.
Itwascloseoneleveno’clockwhenwefoundourselvesoncemoreintheneighbourhoodofMadameOlivier’svilla.Welookedupanddowntheroadbeforeslippingintothealleyway.Thewholeplaceappearedtobeperfectlydeserted.Onethingwecouldbequitecertainof,noonewasfollowingus.
“Idonotexpectthemtobehereyet,”whisperedPoirottome.“Possiblytheymaynotcomeuntiltomorrownight,buttheyknowperfectlywellthatthereareonlytwonightsonwhichtheradiumwillbethere.”
Verycautiouslyweturnedthekeyinthegardendoor.Itopenednoiselesslyandwesteppedintothegarden.
Andthen,withcompleteunexpectedness,theblowfell.Inaminuteweweresurrounded,gagged,andbound.Atleasttenmenmusthavebeenwaitingforus.Resistancewasuseless.Liketwohelplessbundleswewereliftedupandcarriedalong.Tomyintenseastonishment,theytookustowardsthehouseandnotawayfromit.Withakeytheyopenedthedoorintothelaboratoryandcarriedusintoit.Oneofthemenstoopeddownbeforeabigsafe.Thedoorofitswungopen.Ifeltanunpleasantsensationdownmyspine.Weretheygoingtobundleusintoit,andleaveustheretoasphyxiateslowly?
However,tomyamazement,Isawthatfromtheinsideofthesafestepsleddownbeneaththefloor.Wewerethrustdownthisnarrowwayandeventuallycameoutintoabigsubterraneanchamber.Awomanstoodthere,tallandimposing,withablackvelvetmaskcoveringherface.Shewasclearlyincommandofthesituationbyhergesturesofauthority.Themenslungusdownonthefloorandleftus—alonewiththemysteriouscreatureinthemask.Ihadnodoubtwhoshewas.ThiswastheunknownFrenchwoman—NumberThreeoftheBigFour.
Shekneltdownbesideusandremovedthegags,butleftusbound,thenrisingandfacingus,withasuddenswiftgesturesheremovedhermask.
ItwasMadameOlivier!
“M.Poirot,”shesaid,inalowmockingtone.“Thegreat,thewonderful,theunique,M.Poirot.Isentawarningtoyouyesterdaymorning.Youchosetodisregardit—youthoughtyoucouldpityourwitsagainstUS.Andnow,youarehere!”
Therewasacoldmalignityaboutherthatfrozemetothemarrow.Itwassoatvariancewiththeburningfireofhereyes.Shewasmad—mad—withthemadnessofgenius!
Poirotsaidnothing.Hisjawhaddropped,andhewasstaringather.
“Well,”shesaidsoftly,“thisistheend.Wecannotpermitourplanstobeinterferedwith.Haveyouanylastrequesttomake?”
Neverbefore,orsince,haveIfeltsoneardeath.Poirotwasmagnificent.Heneitherflinchednorpaled,juststaredatherwithunabatedinterest.
“Yourpsychologyinterestsmeenormously,madame,”hesaidquietly.“ItisapitythatIhavesoshortatimetodevotetostudyingit.Yes,Ihavearequesttomake.Acondemnedmanisalwaysallowedalastsmoke,Ibelieve.Ihavemycigarettecaseonme.Ifyouwouldpermit—”Helookeddownathisbonds
“Oh,yes!”shelaughed.“Youwouldlikemetountieyourhands,wouldyounot?Youareclever,M.HerculePoirot,Iknowthat.Ishallnotuntieyourhands—butIwillfindyouacigarette.”
Shekneltdownbyhim,extractedhiscigarettecase,tookoutacigarette,andplaceditbetweenhislips.
“Andnowamatch,”shesaid,rising.
“Itisnotnecessary,madame.”Somethinginhisvoicestartledme.She,too,wasarrested.
“Donotmove,Iprayofyou,madame.Youwillregretitifyoudo.Areyouacquaintedatallwiththepropertiesofcurare?TheSouthAmericanIndiansuseitasanarrowpoison.Ascratchwithitmeansdeath.Sometribesusealittleblowpipe—I,too,havealittleblowpipeconstructedsoastolookexactlylikeacigarette.Ihaveonlytoblow…Ah!youstart.Donotmove,madame.Themechanismofthiscigaretteismostingenious.Oneblows—andatinydartresemblingafishbonefliesthroughtheair—tofinditsmark.Youdonotwishtodie,madame.Therefore,IbegofyoutoreleasemyfriendHastingsfromhisbonds.Icannotusemyhands,butIcanturnmyhead—so—youarestillcovered,madame.Makenomistake,Ibegofyou.”
Slowly,withshakinghands,andrageandhateconvulsingherface,shebentdownanddidhisbidding.Iwasfree.Poirot’svoicegavemeinstructions.
“Yourbondswillnowdoforthelady,Hastings.Thatisright.Isshesecurelyfastened?Thenreleaseme,Iprayofyou.Itisafortunatecircumstanceshesentawayherhenchmen.Withalittleluckwemayhopetofindthewayoutunobstructed.”
Inanotherminute,Poirotstoodbymyside.Hebowedtothelady.
“HerculePoirotisnotkilledsoeasily,madame.Iwishyougoodnight.”
Thegagpreventedherfromreplying,butthemurderousgleaminhereyesfrightenedme.Ihopeddevoutlythatweshouldneverfallintoherpoweragain.
Threeminuteslaterwewereoutsidethevilla,andhurriedlytraversingthegarden.Theroadoutsidewasdeserted,andweweresoonclearoftheneighbourhood.
ThenPoirotbrokeout.
“Ideserveallthatthatwomansaidtome.Iamatripleimbecile,amiserableanimal,thirty-sixtimesanidiot.Iwasproudofmyselffornotfallingintotheirtrap.Anditwasnotevenmeantasatrap—exceptexactlyinthewayinwhichIfellintoit.TheyknewIwouldseethroughit—theycountedonmyseeingthroughit.Thisexplainsall—theeasewithwhichtheysurrendered.Halliday—everything.MadameOlivierwastherulingspirit—VeraRossakoffonlyherlieutenant.MadameneedsHalliday’sideas—sheherselfhadthenecessarygeniustosupplythegapsthatperplexedhim.Yes,Hastings,weknownowwhoNumberThreeis—thewomanwhoisprobablythegreatestscientistintheworld!Thinkofit.ThebrainoftheEast,thescienceoftheWest—andtwootherswhoseidentitieswedonotyetknow.Butwemustfindout.TomorrowwewillreturntoLondonandsetaboutit.”
“YouarenotgoingtodenounceMadameOliviertothepolice?”
“Ishouldnotbebelieved.ThewomanisoneoftheidolsofFrance.Andwecanprovenothing.Weareluckyifshedoesnotdenounceus.”
“What?”
“Thinkofit.Wearefoundatnightuponthepremiseswithkeysinourpossessionwhichshewillswearshenevergaveus.Shesurprisesusatthesafe,andwegagandbindherandmakeaway.Havenoillusions,Hastings.Thebootisnotupontherightleg—isthathowyousayit?”
Eight
INTHEHOUSEOFTHEENEMY
AfterouradventureinthevillaatPassy,wereturnedposthastetoLondon.SeveralletterswereawaitingPoirot.Hereadoneofthemwithacurioussmile,andthenhandedittome.
“Readthis,monami.”
Iturnedfirsttothesignature,“AbeRyland,”andrecalledPoirot’swords:“therichestmanintheworld.”Mr.Ryland’sletterwascurtandincisive.HeexpressedhimselfasprofoundlydissatisfiedwiththereasonPoirothadgivenforwithdrawingfromtheSouthAmericanpropositionatthelastmoment.
“Thisgivesonefuriouslytothink,doesitnot?”saidPoirot.
“Isupposeit’sonlynaturalheshouldbeabitratty.”
“No,no,youcomprehendnot.RememberthewordsofMayerling,themanwhotookrefugehere—onlytodiebythehandsofhisenemies.‘NumberTwoisrepresentedbyan“S”withtwolinesthroughit—thesignofadollar;alsobytwostripesandastar.ItmaybeconjecturedthereforethatheisanAmericansubject,andthatherepresentsthepowerofwealth.’AddtothosewordsthefactthatRylandofferedmeahugesumtotemptmeoutofEngland—and—andwhataboutit,Hastings?”
“Youmean,”Isaid,staring,“thatyoususpectAbeRyland,themultimillionaire,ofbeingNumberTwooftheBigFour.”
“Yourbrightintellecthasgraspedtheidea,Hastings.Yes,Ido.Thetoneinwhichyousaidmultimillionairewaseloquentbutletmeimpressuponyouonefact—thisthingisbeingrunbymenatthetop—andMr.Rylandhasthereputationofbeingnobeautyinhisbusinessdealings.Anable,unscrupulousman,amanwhohasallthewealththatheneeds,andisoutforunlimitedpower.”
TherewasundoubtedlysomethingtobesaidforPoirot’sview.Iaskedhimwhenhehadmadeuphisminddefinitelyuponthepoint.
“Thatisjustit.Iamnotsure.Icannotbesure.Monami,Iwouldgiveanythingtoknow.LetmebutplaceNumberTwodefinitelyasAbeRyland,andwedrawnearertoourgoal.”
“HehasjustarrivedinLondon,Iseebythis,”Isaid,tappingtheletter.“Shallyoucalluponhim,andmakeyourapologiesinperson?”
“Imightdoso.”
Twodayslater,Poirotreturnedtoourroomsinastateofboundlessexcitement.Hegraspedmebybothhandsinhismostimpulsivemanner.
“Myfriend,anoccasionstupendous,unprecedented,nevertoberepeated,haspresenteditself!Butthereisdanger,gravedanger.Ishouldnotevenaskyoutoattemptit.”
IfPoirotwastryingtofrightenme,hewasgoingthewrongwaytowork,andsoItoldhim.Becominglessincoherent,heunfoldedhisplan.
ItseemedthatRylandwaslookingforanEnglishsecretary,onewithagoodsocialmannerandpresence.ItwasPoirot’ssuggestionthatIshouldapplyforthepost.
“Iwoulddoit,myself,monami,”heexplainedapologetically.“But,seeyou,itisalmostimpossibleformetodisguisemyselfintheneedfulmanner.IspeaktheEnglishverywell—exceptwhenIamexcited—buthardlysoastodeceivetheear;andeventhoughIweretosacrificemymoustaches,IdoubtnotbutthatIshouldstillberecognizableasHerculePoirot.”
Idoubteditalso,anddeclaredmyselfreadyandwillingtotakeupthepartandpenetrateintoRyland’shousehold.
“Tentoonehewon’tengagemeanyway,”Iremarked.
“Oh,yes,hewill.Iwillarrangeforyousuchtestimonialsasshallmakehimlickhislips.TheHomeSecretaryhimselfshallrecommendyou.”
Thisseemedtobecarryingthingsabitfar,butPoirotwavedasidemyremonstrances.
“Oh,yes,hewilldoit.Iinvestigatedforhimalittlematterwhichmighthavecausedagravescandal.Allwassolvedwithdiscretionanddelicacy,andnow,asyouwouldsay,heperchesuponmyhandlikethelittlebirdandpecksthecrumbs.”
Ourfirststepwastoengagetheservicesofanartistin“makeup.”Hewasalittleman,withaquaintbirdliketurnofthehead,notunlikePoirot’sown.Heconsideredmesometimeinsilence,andthenfelltowork.WhenIlookedatmyselfintheglasshalfanhourafterwards,Iwasamazed.Specialshoescausedmetostandatleasttwoinchestaller,andthecoatIworewasarrangedsoastogivemealong,lank,weedylook.Myeyebrowshadbeencunninglyaltered,givingatotallydifferentexpressiontomyface,Iworepadsinmycheeks,andthedeeptanofmyfacewasathingofthepast.Mymoustachehadgone,andagoldtoothwasprominentononesideofmymouth.
“Yourname,”saidPoirot,“isArthurNeville.Godguardyou,myfriend—forIfearthatyougointoperilousplaces.”
ItwaswithabeatingheartthatIpresentedmyselfattheSavoy,atanhournamedbyMr.Ryland,andaskedtoseethegreatman.
Afterbeingkeptwaitingaminuteortwo,Iwasshownupstairstohissuite.
Rylandwassittingatatable.SpreadoutinfrontofhimwasaletterwhichIcouldseeoutofthetailofmyeyewasintheHomeSecretary’shandwriting.ItwasmyfirstsightoftheAmericanmillionaire,and,inspiteofmyself,Iwasimpressed.Hewastallandlean,withajuttingoutchinandslightlyhookednose.Hiseyesglitteredcoldandgreybehindpenthousebrows.Hehadthickgrizzledhair,andalongblackcigar(withoutwhich,Ilearnedlater,hewasneverseen)protrudedrakishlyfromthecornerofhismouth.
“Siddown,”hegrunted.
Isat.Hetappedtheletterinfrontofhim.
“Accordingtothispiecehere,you’rethegoodsallright,andIdon’tneedtolookfurther.Say,areyouwellupinthesocialmatters?”
IsaidthatIthoughtIcouldsatisfyhiminthatrespect.
“Imeantosay,ifIhavealotofdooksandearlsandviscountsandsuchlikedowntothecountryplaceI’vegotten,you’llbeabletosortthemoutallrightandputthemwheretheyshouldberoundthediningtable?”
“Oh!quiteeasily,”Ireplied,smiling.
Weexchangedafewmorepreliminaries,andthenIfoundmyselfengaged.WhatMr.RylandwantedwasasecretaryconversantwithEnglishsociety,ashealreadyhadanAmericansecretaryandastenographerwithhim.
TwodayslaterIwentdowntoHattonChase,theseatoftheDukeofLoamshire,whichtheAmericanmillionairehadrentedforaperiodofsixmonths.
Mydutiesgavemenodifficultywhatever.AtoneperiodofmylifeIhadbeenprivatesecretarytoabusymemberofParliament,soIwasnotcalledupontoassumearoleunfamiliartome.Mr.Rylandusuallyentertainedalargepartyovertheweekend,butthemiddleoftheweekwascomparativelyquiet.IsawverylittleofMr.Appleby,theAmericansecretary,butheseemedapleasant,normalyoungAmerican,veryefficientinhiswork.OfMissMartin,thestenographer,Isawrathermore.Shewasaprettygirlofabouttwenty-threeorfour,withauburnhairandbrowneyesthatcouldlookmischievousenoughuponoccasion,thoughtheywereusuallycastdemurelydown.Ihadanideathatshebothdislikedanddistrustedheremployer,though,ofcourse,shewascarefulnevertohintatanythingofthekind,butthetimecamewhenIwasunexpectedlytakenintoherconfidence.
Ihad,ofcourse,carefullyscrutinizedallthemembersofthehousehold.Oneortwooftheservantshadbeennewlyengaged,oneofthefootmen,Ithink,andsomeofthehousemaids.Thebutler,thehousekeeper,andthechefweretheduke’sownstaff,whohadconsentedtoremainonintheestablishment.ThehousemaidsIdismissedasunimportant;IscrutinizedJames,thesecondfootman,verycarefully;butitwasclearthathewasanunderfootmanandanunderfootmanonly.Hehad,indeed,beenengagedbythebutler.ApersonofwhomIwasfarmoresuspiciouswasDeaves,Ryland’svalet,whomhehadbroughtoverfromNewYorkwithhim.AnEnglishmanbybirth,withanirreproachablemanner,Iyetharbouredvaguesuspicionsabouthim.
IhadbeenatHattonChasethreeweeksandnotanincidentofanykindhadarisenwhichIcouldlaymyfingeroninsupportofourtheory.TherewasnotraceoftheactivitiesoftheBigFour.Mr.Rylandwasamanofoverpoweringforceandpersonality,butIwascomingtobelievethatPoirothadmadeamistakewhenheassociatedhimwiththatdreadorganization.IevenheardhimmentionPoirotinacasualwayatdinneronenight.
“Wonderfullittleman,theysay.Buthe’saquitter.HowdoIknow?Iputhimonadeal,andheturnedmedownthelastminute.I’mnottakinganymoreofyourMonsieurHerculePoirot.”
ItwasatmomentssuchasthesethatIfeltmycheekpadsmostwearisome!
AndthenMissMartintoldmearathercuriousstory.RylandhadgonetoLondonfortheday,takingApplebywithhim.MissMartinandIwerestrollingtogetherinthegardenaftertea.Ilikedthegirlverymuch,shewassounaffectedandsonatural.Icouldseethattherewassomethingonhermind,andatlastoutitcame.
“Doyouknow,MajorNeville,”shesaid,“Iamreallythinkingofresigningmyposthere.”
Ilookedsomewhatastonished,andshewentonhurriedly.
“Oh!Iknowit’sawonderfuljobtohavegot,inaway.Isupposemostpeoplewouldthinkmeafooltothrowitup.ButIcan’tstandabuse,MajorNeville.TobeswornatlikeatrooperismorethanIcanbear.Nogentlemanwoulddosuchathing.”
“HasRylandbeenswearingatyou?”
Shenodded.
“Ofcourse,he’salwaysratherirritableandshort-tempered.Thatoneexpects.It’sallintheday’swork.Buttoflyintosuchanabsolutefury—overnothingatall.Hereallylookedasthoughhecouldhavemurderedme!And,asIsay,overnothingatall!”
“Tellmeaboutit?”Isaid,keenlyinterested.
“Asyouknow,IopenallMr.Ryland’sletters.SomeIhandontoMr.Appleby,othersIdealwithmyself,butIdoallthepreliminarysorting.Nowtherearecertainlettersthatcome,writtenonbluepaper,andwithatiny4markedonthecorner—Ibegyourpardon,didyouspeak?”
Ihadbeenunabletorepressastifledexclamation,butIhurriedlyshookmyhead,andbeggedhertocontinue.
“Well,asIwassaying,theseletterscome,andtherearestrictordersthattheyarenevertobeopened,buttobehandedovertoMr.Rylandintact.And,ofcourse,Ialwaysdoso.Buttherewasanunusuallyheavymailyesterdaymorning,andIwasopeningtheselettersinaterrifichurry.BymistakeIopenedoneoftheseletters.AssoonasIsawwhatIhaddone,ItookittoMr.Rylandandexplained.Tomyutteramazementheflewintothemostawfulrage.AsItellyou,Iwasquitefrightened.”
“Whatwasthereintheletter,Iwonder,toupsethimso?”
“Absolutelynothing—that’sjustthecuriouspartofit.IhadreaditbeforeIdiscoveredmymistake.Itwasquiteshort.Icanstillrememberitwordforword,andtherewasnothinginitthatcouldpossiblyupsetanyone.
“Youcanrepeatit,yousay?”Iencouragedher.
“Yes.”Shepausedaminuteandthenrepeatedslowly,whilstInoteddownthewordsunobtrusively,thefollowing:
DearSir—Theessentialthingnow,Ishouldsay,istoseetheproperty.Ifyouinsistonthequarrybeingincluded,thenseventeenthousandseemsreasonable.11percentcommissiontoomuch,4percentisample.Yourstruly,ArthurLeversham
MissMartinwenton:
“EvidentlyaboutsomepropertyMr.Rylandwasthinkingofbuying.Butreally,Idofeelthatamanwhocangetintoarageoversuchatrifleis,well,dangerous.WhatdoyouthinkIoughttodo,MajorNeville?You’vemoreexperienceoftheworldthanIhave.”
Isoothedthegirldown,pointedouttoherthatMr.Rylandhadprobablybeensufferingfromtheenemyofhisrace—dyspepsia.IntheendIsentherawayquitecomforted.ButIwasnotsoeasilysatisfiedmyself.Whenthegirlhadgone,andIwasalone,Itookoutmynotebook,andranovertheletterwhichIhadjotteddown.Whatdiditmean—thisapparentlyinnocent-soundingmissive?DiditconcernsomebusinessdealwhichRylandwasundertaking,andwasheanxiousthatnodetailsaboutitshouldleakoutuntilitwascarriedthrough?Thatwasapossibleexplanation.ButIrememberedthesmallfigure4withwhichtheenvelopesweremarked,andIfeltthat,atlast,Iwasonthetrackofthethingwewereseeking.
Ipuzzledovertheletterallthatevening,andmostofthenextday—andthensuddenlythesolutioncametome.Itwassosimple,too.Thefigure4wastheclue.Readeveryfourthwordintheletter,andanentirelydifferentmessageappeared.“Essentialshouldseeyouquarryseventeenelevenfour.”
Thesolutionofthefigureswaseasy.SeventeenstoodfortheseventeenthofOctober—whichwastomorrow,elevenwasthetime,andfourwasthesignature—eitherreferringtothemysteriousNumberFourhimself—orelseitwasthe“trademark,”sotospeak,oftheBigFour.Thequarrywasalsointelligible.Therewasabigdisusedquarryontheestateabouthalfamilefromthehouse—alonelyspot,idealforasecretmeeting
ForamomentortwoIwastemptedtoruntheshowmyself.Itwouldbesuchafeatherinmycap,foronce,tohavethepleasureofcrowingoverPoirot.
ButintheendIovercamethetemptation.Thiswasabigbusiness—Ihadnorighttoplayalonehand,andperhapsjeopardizeourchancesofsuccess.Forthefirsttime,wehadstolenamarchuponourenemies.Wemustmakegoodthistime—and,disguisethefactasImight,Poirothadthebetterbrainofthetwo
Iwroteoffposthastetohim,layingthefactsbeforehim,andexplaininghowurgentitwasthatweshouldoverhearwhatwentonattheinterview.Ifhelikedtoleaveittome,wellandgood,butIgavehimdetailedinstructionshowtoreachthequarryfromthestationincaseheshoulddeemitwisetobepresenthimself.
Itooktheletterdowntothevillageandposteditmyself.IhadbeenabletocommunicatewithPoirotthroughoutmystay,butweagreedthatheshouldnotattempttocommunicatewithmeincasemylettersshouldbetamperedwith.
Iwasinaglowofexcitementthefollowingevening.Noguestswerestayinginthehouse,andIwasbusywithMr.Rylandinhisstudyalltheevening.Ihadforeseenthatthiswouldbethecase,whichwaswhyIhadnohopeofbeingabletomeetPoirotatthestation.Iwas,however,confidentthatIwouldbedismissedwellbeforeeleveno’clock.
Sureenough,justafterten-thirty,Mr.Rylandglancedattheclock,andannouncedthathewas“through.”Itookthehintandretireddiscreetly.Iwentupstairsasthoughgoingtobed,butslippedquietlydownasidestaircaseandletmyselfoutintothegarden,havingtakentheprecautiontodonadarkovercoattohidemywhiteshirtfront.
IhadgonesomewaydownthegardenwhenIchancedtolookovermyshoulder.Mr.Rylandwasjuststeppingoutfromhisstudywindowintothegarden.Hewasstartingtokeeptheappointment.Iredoubledmypace,soastogetaclearstart.Iarrivedatthequarrysomewhatoutofbreath.Thereseemednooneabout,andIcrawledintoathicktangleofbushesandawaiteddevelopments.
Tenminuteslater,justonthestrokeofeleven,Rylandstalkedup,hishatoverhiseyesandtheinevitablecigarinhismouth.Hegaveaquicklookround,andthenplungedintothehollowsofthequarrybelow.PresentlyIheardalowmurmurofvoicescomeuptome.Evidentlytheotherman—ormen—whoevertheywere,hadarrivedfirstattherendezvous.Icrawledcautiouslyoutofthebushes,andinchbyinch,usingtheutmostprecautionagainstnoise,Iwormedmyselfdownthesteeppath.Onlyabouldernowseparatedmefromthetalkingmen.Secureintheblackness,Ipeepedroundtheedgeofitandfoundmyselffacingthemuzzleofablack,murderous-lookingautomatic!
“Handsup!”saidMr.Rylandsuccinctly.“I’vebeenwaitingforyou.”
Hewasseatedintheshadowoftherock,sothatIcouldnotseehisface,butthemenaceinhisvoicewasunpleasant.ThenIfeltaringofcoldsteelonthebackofmyneck,andRylandloweredhisownautomatic.
“That’sright,George,”hedrawled.“Marchhimaroundhere.”
Raginginwardly,Iwasconductedtoaspotintheshadows,wheretheunseenGeorge(whomIsuspectedofbeingtheimpeccableDeaves)gaggedandboundmesecurely.
RylandspokeagaininatonewhichIhaddifficultyinrecognizing,socoldandmenacingwasit.
“Thisisgoingtobetheendofyoutwo.You’vegotinthewayoftheBigFouroncetoooften.Everheardoflandslides?Therewasoneaboutheretwoyearsago.There’sgoingtobeanothertonight.I’vefixedthatgoodandsquare.Say,thatfriendofyoursdoesn’tkeephisdatesverypunctually.”
Awaveofhorrorsweptoverme.Poirot!Inanotherminutehewouldwalkstraightintothetrap.AndIwaspowerlesstowarnhim.Icouldonlypraythathehadelectedtoleavethematterinmyhands,andhadremainedinLondon.Surely,ifhehadbeencoming,hewouldhavebeenherebynow.
Witheveryminutethatpassed,myhopesrose.
Suddenlytheyweredashedtopieces.Iheardfootsteps—cautiousfootsteps,butfootstepsnevertheless.Iwrithedinimpotentagony.Theycamedownthepath,pausedandthenPoirothimselfappeared,hisheadalittleononeside,peeringintotheshadows.
IheardthegrowlofsatisfactionRylandgaveasheraisedthebigautomaticandshouted,“Handsup.”Deavessprangforwardashedidso,andtookPoirotintherear.Theambushwascomplete.
“Pleasedtomeetyou,Mr.HerculePoirot,”saidtheAmericangrimly.
Poirot’sself-possessionwasmarvellous.Hedidnotturnahair.ButIsawhiseyessearchingintheshadows.
“Myfriend?Heishere?”
“Yes,youarebothinthetrap—thetrapoftheBigFour.”
Helaughed.
“Atrap?”queriedPoirot.
“Say,haven’tyoutumbledtoityet?”
“Icomprehendthatthereisatrap—yes,”saidPoirotgently.“Butyouareinerror,monsieur.Itisyouwhoareinit—notIandmyfriend.”
“What?”Rylandraisedthebigautomatic,butIsawhisgazefalter.
“Ifyoufire,youcommitmurderwatchedbytenpairsofeyes,andyouwillbehangedforit.Thisplaceissurrounded—hasbeenforthelasthour—byScotlandYardmen.Itischeckmate,Mr.AbeRyland.”
Heutteredacuriouswhistle,and,asthoughbymagic,theplacewasalivewithmen.TheyseizedRylandandthevaletanddisarmedthem.Afterspeakingafewwordstotheofficerincharge,Poirottookmebythearm,andledmeaway.
Onceclearofthequarryheembracedmewithvigour.
“Youarealive—youareunhurt.Itismagnificent.OftenhaveIblamedmyselfforlettingyougo.”
“I’mperfectlyallright,”Isaid,disengagingmyself.“ButI’mjustabitfogged.Youtumbledtotheirlittlescheme,didyou?”
“ButIwaswaitingforit!ForwhatelsedidIpermityoutogothere?Yourfalsename,yourdisguise,notforamomentwasitintendedtodeceive!”
“What?”Icried.“Younevertoldme.”
“AsIhavefrequentlytoldyou,Hastings,youhaveanaturesobeautifulandsohonestthatunlessyouareyourselfdeceived,itisimpossibleforyoutodeceiveothers.Good,then,youarespottedfromthefirst,andtheydowhatIhadcountedontheirdoing—amathematicalcertaintytoanyonewhouseshisgreycellsproperly—useyouasadecoy.Theysetthegirlon—Bytheway,monami,asaninterestingfactpsychologically,hadshegotredhair?”
“IfyoumeanMissMartin,”Isaidcoldly.“Herhairisadelicateshadeofauburn,but—”
“Theyareépatants—thesepeople!Theyhaveevenstudiedyourpsychology.Oh!yes,myfriend,MissMartinwasintheplot—verymuchso.Sherepeatsthelettertoyou,togetherwithhertaleofMr.Ryland’swrath,youwriteitdown,youpuzzleyourbrains—thecipherisnicelyarranged,difficult,butnottoodifficult—yousolveit,andyousendforme.”
“ButwhattheydonotknowisthatIamwaitingforjustthisverythingtohappen.IgoposthastetoJappandarrangethings.Andso,asyousee,allistriumph!”
IwasnotparticularlypleasedwithPoirot,andItoldhimso.WewentbacktoLondononamilktrainintheearlyhoursofthemorning,andamostuncomfortablejourneyitwas.
IwasjustoutofmybathandindulginginpleasurablethoughtsofbreakfastwhenIheardJapp’svoiceinthesittingroom.Ithrewonabathrobeandhurriedin.
“Aprettymare’snestyou’vegotusintothistime,”Jappwassaying.“It’stoobadofyou,M.Poirot.FirsttimeI’veeverknownyoutakeatoss.”
Poirot’sfacewasastudy.Jappwenton:
“Therewerewe,takingallthisBlackHandstuffseriously—andallthetimeitwasthefootman.”
“Thefootman?”Igasped.
“Yes,James,orwhateverhisnameis.Seemshelaid’emawagerintheservants”hallthathecouldgettakenfortheoldmanbyhisnibs—that’syou,CaptainHastings—andwouldhandhimoutalotofspystuffaboutaBigFourgang.”
“Impossible!”Icried.
“Don’tyoubelieveit.ImarchedourgentlemanstraighttoHattonChase,andtherewastherealRylandinbedandasleep,andthebutlerandthecookandGodknowshowmanyofthemtosweartothewager.Justasillyhoax—that’sallitwas—andthevaletiswithhim.”
“Sothatwaswhyhekeptintheshadow,”murmuredPoirot.
AfterJapphadgonewelookedateachother.
“Weknow,Hastings,”saidPoirotatlast.“NumberTwooftheBigFourisAbeRyland.Themasqueradingonthepartofthefootmanwastoensureawayofretreatincaseofemergencies.Andthefootman—”
“Yes,”Ibreathed.
“NumberFour,”saidPoirotgravely.
Nine
THEYELLOWJASMINEMYSTERY
ItwasallverywellforPoirottosaythatwewereacquiringinformationallthetimeandgaininganinsightintoouradversaries’minds—IfeltmyselfthatIrequiredsomemoretangiblesuccessthanthis.
SincewehadcomeintocontactwiththeBigFour,theyhadcommittedtwomurders,abductedHalliday,andhadbeenwithinanaceofkillingPoirotandmyself;whereassofarwehadhardlyscoredapointinthegame.
Poirottreatedmycomplaintslightly.
“Sofar,Hastings,”hesaid,“theylaugh.Thatistrue,butyouhaveaproverb,haveyounot:‘Helaughsbestwholaughsattheend?’Andattheend,monami,youshallsee.”
“Youmustremember,too,”headded,“thatwedealwithnoordinarycriminal,butwiththesecond-greatestbrainintheworld.”
Iforeboretopandertohisconceitbyaskingtheobviousquestion.Iknewtheanswer,atleastIknewwhatPoirot’sanswerwouldbe,andinsteadItriedwithoutsuccesstoelicitsomeinformationastowhatstepshewastakingtotrackdowntheenemy.Asusualhehadkeptmecompletelyinthedarkastohismovements,butIgatheredthathewasintouchwithsecretserviceagentsinIndia,China,andRussia,and,fromhisoccasionalburstsofself-glorification,thathewasatleastprogressinginhisfavouritegameofgauginghisenemy’smind
Hehadabandonedhisprivatepracticealmostentirely,andIknowthatatthistimeherefusedsomeremarkablyhandsomefees.True,hewouldsometimesinvestigatecaseswhichintriguedhim,butheusuallydroppedthemthemomenthewasconvincedthattheyhadnoconnectionwiththeactivitiesoftheBigFour.
Thisattitudeofhiswasremarkablyprofitabletoourfriend,InspectorJapp.Undeniablyhegainedmuchkudosforsolvingseveralproblemsinwhichhissuccesswasreallyduetoahalf-contemptuoushintfromPoirot.
InreturnforsuchserviceJappsuppliedfulldetailsofanycasewhichhethoughtmightinterestthelittleBelgian,andwhenhewasputinchargeofwhatthenewspaperscalled“TheYellowJasmineMystery,”hewiredPoirot,askinghimwhetherhewouldcaretocomedownandlookintothecase.
Itwasinresponsetothiswirethat,aboutamonthaftermyadventureinAbeRyland’shouse,wefoundourselvesaloneinarailwaycompartmentwhirlingawayfromthesmokeanddustofLondon,boundforthelittletownofMarketHandfordinWorcestershire,theseatofthemystery.
Poirotleantbackinhiscorner.
“Andwhatexactlyisyouropinionoftheaffair,Hastings?”
Ididnotatoncereplytohisquestion;Ifelttheneedofgoingwarily.
“Itallseemssocomplicated,”Isaidcautiously.
“Doesitnot?”saidPoirotdelightedly.
“IsupposeourrushingofflikethisisaprettyclearsignalthatyouconsiderMr.Paynter’sdeathtobemurder—notsuicideortheresultofanaccident?”
“No,no;youmisunderstandme,Hastings.GrantingthatMr.Paynterdiedasaresultofaparticularlyterribleaccident,therearestillanumberofmysteriouscircumstancestobeexplained.”
“ThatwaswhatImeantwhenIsaiditwasallsocomplicated.”
“Letusgooverallthemainfactsquietlyandmethodically.Recountthemtome,Hastings,inanorderlyandlucidfashion.”
Istartedforthwith,endeavouringtobeasorderlyandlucidasIcould.
“Westart,”Isaid,“withMr.Paynter.Amanoffifty-five,rich,cultured,andsomewhatofaglobe-trotter.ForthelasttwelveyearshehasbeenlittleinEngland,but,suddenlytiringofincessanttravelling,heboughtasmallplaceinWorcestershire,nearMarketHandford,andpreparedtosettledown.Hisfirstactionwastowritetohisonlyrelative,anephew,GeraldPaynter,thesonofhisyoungestbrother,andtosuggesttohimthatheshouldcomeandmakehishomeatCroftlands(astheplaceiscalled)withhisuncle.GeraldPaynter,whoisanimpecuniousyoungartist,wasgladenoughtofallinwiththearrangement,andhadbeenlivingwithhisuncleforaboutsevenmonthswhenthe
“Yournarrativestyleismasterly,”murmuredPoirot.“Isaytomyself,itisabookthattalks,notmyfriendHastings.”
PayingnoattentiontoPoirot,Iwenton,warmingtothestory.
“Mr.PaynterkeptupafairstaffatCroftlands—sixservantsaswellashisownChinesebodyservant—AhLing.”
“HisChineseservant,AhLing,”murmuredPoirot.
“OnTuesdaylast,Mr.Payntercomplainedoffeelingunwellafterdinner,andoneoftheservantswasdespatchedtofetchthedoctor.Mr.Paynterreceivedthedoctorinhisstudy,havingrefusedtogotobed.Whatpassedbetweenthemwasnotthenknown,butbeforeDoctorQuentinleft,heaskedtoseethehousekeeper,andmentionedthathehadgivenMr.Paynterahypodermicinjectionashisheartwasinaveryweakstate,recommendedthatheshouldnotbedisturbed,andthenproceededtoasksomerathercuriousquestionsabouttheservants,howlongtheyhadbeenthere,fromwhomtheyhadcome,etc.
“Thehousekeeperansweredthesequestionsasbestshecould,butwasratherpuzzledastotheirpurport.Aterriblediscoverywasmadeonthefollowingmorning.Oneofthehousemaids,ondescending,wasmetbyasickeningodourofburnedfleshwhichseemedtocomefromhermaster’sstudy.Shetriedthedoor,butitwaslockedontheinside.WiththeassistanceofGeraldPaynterandtheChinaman,thatwassoonbrokenin,butaterriblesightgreetedthem.Mr.Paynterhadfallenforwardintothegasfire,andhisfaceandheadwerecharredbeyondrecognition.
“Ofcourse,atthemoment,nosuspicionwasarousedastoitsbeinganythingbutaghastlyaccident.Ifblameattachedtoanyone,itwastoDoctorQuentinforgivinghispatientanarcoticandleavinghiminsuchadangerousposition.Andthenarathercuriousdiscoverywasmade.
“Therewasanewspaperonthefloor,lyingwhereithadslippedfromtheoldman’sknees.Onturningitover,wordswerefoundtobescrawledacrossit,feeblytracedinink.AwritingtablestoodclosetothechairinwhichMr.Paynterhadbeensitting,andtheforefingerofthevictim’srighthandwasink-staineduptothesecondjoint.Itwasclearthat,tooweaktoholdapen,Mr.Paynterhaddippedhisfingerintheinkpotandmanagedtoscrawlthesetwowordsacrossthesurfaceofthenewspaperheheld—butthewordsthemselvesseemedutterlyfantastic:YellowJasmine—justthatandnothingmore.
“Croftlandshasalargequantityofyellowjasminegrowingupitswalls,anditwasthoughtthatthisdyingmessagehadsomereferencetothem,showingthatthepooroldman’smindwaswandering.Ofcoursethenewspapers,agogforanythingoutofthecommon,tookupthestoryhotly,callingittheMysteryoftheYellowJasmine—thoughinallprobabilitythewordsarecompletelyunimportant.”
“Theyareunimportant,yousay?”saidPoirot.“Well,doubtless,sinceyousayso,itmustbeso.”
Iregardedhimdubiously,butIcoulddetectnomockeryinhiseye.
“Andthen,”Icontinued,“therecametheexcitementsoftheinquest.”
“Thisiswhereyoulickyourlips,Iperceive.”
“TherewasacertainamountoffeelingevidencedagainstDr.Quentin.Tobeginwith,hewasnottheregulardoctor,onlyalocum,puttinginamonth’swork,whilstDr.Bolithowasawayonawell-earnedholiday.Thenitwasfeltthathiscarelessnesswasthedirectcauseoftheaccident.Buthisevidencewaslittleshortofsensational.Mr.Paynterwhenhewassentforafterdinner.AssoonashewasalonewithMr.Paynter,thelatterhadunfoldedasurprisingtale.Tobeginwith,hewasnotfeelingillatall,heexplained,butthetasteofsomecurrythathehadbeeneatingatdinnerhadstruckhimaspeculiar.MakinganexcusetogetridofAhLingforafewminutes,hehadturnedthecontentsofhisplateintoabowl,andhenowhandeditovertothedoctorwithinjunctionstofindoutiftherewerereallyanythingwrongwithit.
“Inspiteofhisstatementthathewasnotfeelingill,thedoctornotedthattheshockofhissuspicionshadevidentlyaffectedhim,andthathisheartwasfeelingit.Accordinglyheadministeredaninjection—notofanarcotic,butofstrychnine.
“That,Ithink,completesthecase—exceptforthecruxofthewholething—thefactthattheuneatencurry,dulyanalysed,wasfoundtocontainenoughpowderedopiumtohavekilledtwomen!”
Ipaused.
“Andyourconclusions,Hastings?”askedPoirotquietly.
“It’sdifficulttosay.Itmightbeanaccident—thefactthatsomeoneattemptedtopoisonhimthesamenightmightbemerelyacoincidence.”
“Butyoudon’tthinkso?Youprefertobelieveit—murder!”
“Don’tyou?”
“Monami,youandIdonotreasoninthesameway.Iamnottryingtomakeupmymindbetweentwooppositesolutions—murderoraccident—thatwillcomewhenwehavesolvedtheotherproblem—themysteryofthe‘YellowJasmine.’Bytheway,youhaveleftoutsomethingthere.”
“Youmeanthetwolinesatrightanglestoeachotherfaintlyindicatedunderthewords?Ididnotthinktheycouldbeofanypossibleimportance.”
“Whatyouthinkisalwayssoimportanttoyourself,Hastings.ButletuspassfromtheMysteryoftheYellowJasminetotheMysteryoftheCurry.”
“Iknow.Whopoisonedit?Why?Thereareahundredquestionsonecanask.AhLing,ofcourse,preparedit.Butwhyshouldhewishtokillhismaster?Isheamemberofatong,orsomethinglikethat?Onereadsofsuchthings.ThetongoftheYellowJasmine,perhaps.ThenthereisGeraldPaynter.”
Icametoanabruptpause.
“Yes,”saidPoirot,noddinghishead.“ThereisGeraldPaynter,asyousay.Heishisuncle’sheir.Hewasdiningoutthatnight,though.”
“Hemighthavegotatsomeoftheingredientsofthecurry,”Isuggested.“Andhewouldtakecaretobeout,soasnottohavetopartakeofthedish.”
IthinkmyreasoningratherimpressedPoirot.Helookedatmewithamorerespectfulattentionthanhehadgivenmesofar.
“Hereturnslate,”Imused,pursuingahypotheticalcase.“Seesthelightinhisuncle’sstudy,enters,and,findinghisplanhasfailed,thruststheoldmandownintothefire.”
“Mr.Paynter,whowasafairlyheartymanoffifty-five,wouldnotpermithimselftobeburnttodeathwithoutastruggle,Hastings.Suchareconstructionisnotfeasible.”
“Well,Poirot,”Icried,“we’renearlythere,Ifancy.Letushearwhatyouthink?”
Poirotthrewmeasmile,swelledouthischest,andbeganinapompousmanner.
“Assumingmurder,thequestionatoncearises,whychoosethatparticularmethod?Icanthinkofonlyonereason—toconfuseidentity,thefacebeingcharredbeyondrecognition.”
“What?”Icried.“Youthink—”
“Amoment’spatience,Hastings.IwasgoingontosaythatIexaminethattheory.IsthereanygroundforbelievingthatthebodyisnotthatofMr.Paynter?Isthereanyoneelsewhosebodyitpossiblycouldbe?IexaminethesetwoquestionsandfinallyIanswerthembothinthenegative.”
“Oh!”Isaid,ratherdisappointed.“Andthen?”
Poirot’seyestwinkledalittle.
“AndthenIsaytomyself,‘sincethereisheresomethingthatIdonotunderstand,itwouldbewellthatIshouldinvestigatethematter.ImustnotpermitmyselftobewhollyengrossedbytheBigFour.’Ah!Wearejustarriving.Mylittleclothesbrush,wheredoesithideitself?Hereitis—brushmedown,Iprayyou,myfriend,andthenIwillperformthesameserviceforyou.”
“Yes,”saidPoirotthoughtfully,asheputawaythebrush,“onemustnotpermitoneselftobeobsessedbyoneidea.Ihavebeenindangerofthat.Figuretoyourself,myfriend,thatevenhere,inthiscase,Iamindangerofit.Thosetwolinesyoumentioned,adownstrokeandalineatrightanglestoit,whataretheybutthebeginningofa4?”
“Goodgracious,Poirot,”Icried,laughing.
“Isitnotabsurd?IseethehandoftheBigFoureverywhere,itiswelltoemployone’switsinatotallydifferentmilieu.Ah!ThereisJappcometomeetus.”
Ten
WEINVESTIGATEATCROFTLANDS
TheScotlandYardInspectorwas,indeed,waitingontheplatform,andgreeteduswarmly.
“Well,MoosiorPoirot,thisisgood.Thoughtyou’dliketobeletinonthis.Tip-topmystery,isn’tit?”
IreadthisarightasshowingJapptobecompletelypuzzledandhopingtopickupapointerfromPoirot.
Japphadacarwaiting,andwedroveupinittoCroftlands.Itwasasquare,whitehouse,quiteunpretentious,andcoveredwithcreepers,includingthestarryyellowjasmine.Japplookedupatitaswedid.
“Musthavebeenbalmytogowritingthat,pooroldcove,”heremarked.“Hallucinations,perhaps,andthoughthewasoutside.”
Poirotwassmilingathim.
“Whichwasit,mygoodJapp?”heasked,“accidentormurder?”
TheInspectorseemedalittleembarrassedbythequestion.
“Well,ifitweren’tforthatcurrybusiness,I’dbeforaccidenteverytime.There’snosenseinholdingaliveman’sheadinthefire—why,he’dscreamthehousedown.”
“Ah!”saidPoirotinalowvoice.“FoolthatIhavebeen.Tripleimbecile!YouareacleverermanthanIam,Japp.”
Jappwasrathertakenabackbythecompliment—Poirotbeingusuallygiventoexclusiveself-praise.Hereddenedandmutteredsomethingabouttherebeingalotofdoubtaboutthat.
Heledthewaythroughthehousetotheroomwherethetragedyhadoccurred—Mr.Paynter’sstudy.Itwasawide,lowroom,withbook-linedwallsandbigleatherarmchairs.
Poirotlookedacrossatoncetothewindowwhichgaveuponagravelledterrace
“Thewindow,wasitunlatched?”heasked.
“That’sthewholepoint,ofcourse.Whenthedoctorleftthisroom,hemerelyclosedthedoorbehindhim.Thenextmorningitwasfoundlocked.Wholockedit?Mr.Paynter?AhLingdeclaresthatthewindowwasclosedandbolted.Dr.Quentin,ontheotherhand,hasanimpressionthatitwasclosed,butnotfastened,buthewon’tsweareitherway.Ifhecould,itwouldmakeagreatdifference.Ifthemanwasmurdered,someoneenteredtheroomeitherthroughthedoororthewindow—ifthroughthedoor,itwasaninsidejob;ifthroughthewindow,itmighthavebeenanyone.Firstthingwhentheyhadbrokenthedoordown,theyflungthewindowopen,andthehousemaidwhodiditthinksthatitwasn’tfastened,butshe’sapreciousbadwitness—willrememberanythingyouaskherto!”
“Whataboutthekey?”
“Thereyouareagain.Itwasontheflooramongthewreckageofthedoor.Mighthavefallenfromthekeyhole,mighthavebeendroppedtherebyoneofthepeoplewhoentered,mighthavebeenslippedunderneaththedoorfromtheoutside.”
“Infacteverythingis‘mighthavebeen?’”
“You’vehitit,MoosiorPoirot.That’sjustwhatitis.”
Poirotwaslookingaroundhim,frowningunhappily.
“Icannotseelight,”hemurmured.“Justnow—yes,Igotagleam,butnowallisdarknessoncemore.Ihavenottheclue—themotive.”
“YoungGeraldPaynterhadaprettygoodmotive,”remarkedJappgrimly.“He’sbeenwildenoughinhistime,Icantellyou.Andextravagant.Youknowwhatartistsare,too—nomoralsatall.”
PoirotdidnotpaymuchattentiontoJapp’ssweepingstricturesontheartistictemperament.Insteadhesmiledknowingly.
“MygoodJapp,isitpossiblethatyouthrowmethemudinmyeyes?IknowwellenoughthatitistheChinamanyoususpect.Butyouaresoartful.Youwantmetohelpyou—andyetyoudragtheredkipperacrossthetrail.”
Jappburstoutlaughing.
“That’syouallover,Mr.Poirot.Yes,I’dbetontheChink,I’lladmititnow.Itstandstoreasonthatitwashewhodoctoredthecurry,andifhe’dtryonceinaneveningtogethismasteroutoftheway,he’dtrytwice.”
“Iwonderifhewould,”saidPoirotsoftly.
“Butit’sthemotivethatbeatsme.Someheathenrevengeorother,Isuppose.”
“Iwonder,”saidPoirotagain.“Therehasbeennorobbery?Nothinghasdisappeared?Nojewellery,ormoney,orpapers?”
“No—thatis,notexactly.”
Iprickedupmyears;sodidPoirot.
“There’sbeennorobbery,Imean,”explainedJapp.“Buttheoldboywaswritingabookofsomesort.Weonlyknewaboutitthismorningwhentherewasaletterfromthepublishersaskingaboutthemanuscript.Itwasjustcompleted,itseems.YoungPaynterandIhavesearchedhighandlow,butcan’tfindatraceofit—hemusthavehiddenitawaysomewhere.”
Poirot’seyeswereshiningwiththegreenlightIknewsowell.
“Howwasitcalled,thisbook?”heasked.
“TheHiddenHandinChina,Ithinkitwascalled.”
“Aha!”saidPoirot,withalmostagasp.Thenhesaidquickly,“LetmeseetheChinaman,AhLing.”
TheChinamanwassentforandappeared,shufflingalong,withhiseyescastdown,andhispigtailswinging.Hisimpassivefaceshowednotraceofanykindofemotion.
“AhLing,”saidPoirot,“areyousorryyourmasterisdead?”
“Iwellysorry.Hegoodmaster.”
“Youknowwhokillhim?”
“Inotknow.ItellpleecemanifIknow.”
Thequestionsandanswerswenton.Withthesameimpassiveface,AhLingdescribedhowhehadmadethecurry.Thecookhadhadnothingtodowithit,hedeclared,nohandhadtoucheditbuthisown.Iwonderedifhesawwherehisadmissionwasleadinghim.Hestucktoittoo,thatthewindowtothegardenwasboltedthatevening.Ifitwasopeninthemorning,hismastermusthaveopenedithimself.AtlastPoirotdismissedhim.
“Thatwilldo,AhLing.”JustastheChinamanhadgottothedoor,Poirotrecalledhim.“Andyouknownothing,yousay,oftheYellowJasmine?”
“No,whatshouldIknow?”
“Noryetofthesignthatwaswrittenunderneathit?”
Poirotleanedforwardashespoke,andquicklytracedsomethingonthedustofalittletable.Iwasnearenoughtoseeitbeforeherubbeditout.Adownstroke,alineatrightangles,andthenasecondlinedownwhichcompletedabig4.TheeffectontheChinamanwaselectrical.Foronemomenthisfacewasamaskofterror.Then,assuddenly,itwasimpassiveagain,andrepeatinghisgravedisclaimer,hewithdrew.
JappdepartedinsearchofyoungPaynter,andPoirotandIwereleftalonetogether.
“TheBigFour,Hastings,”criedPoirot.“Onceagain,theBigFour.Paynterwasagreattraveller.InhisbooktherewasdoubtlesssomevitalinformationconcerningthedoingsofNumberOne,LiChangYen,theheadandbrainsoftheBigFour.”
“Butwho—how—”
“Hush,heretheycome.”
GeraldPaynterwasanamiable,ratherweak-lookingyoungman.Hehadasoftbrownbeard,andapeculiarflowingtie.HeansweredPoirot’squestionsreadilyenough.
“Idinedoutwithsomeneighboursofours,theWycherleys,”heexplained.“WhattimedidIgethome?Oh,abouteleven.Ihadalatchkey,youknow.Alltheservantshadgonetobed,andInaturallythoughtmyunclehaddonethesame.Asamatteroffact,IdidthinkIcaughtsightofthatsoft-footedChinesebeggar,AhLing,justwhiskingroundthecornerofthehall,butIfancyIwasmistaken.”
“Whendidyoulastseeyouruncle,Mr.Paynter?Imeanbeforeyoucametolivewithhim?”
“Oh!notsinceIwasakidoften.Heandhisbrother(myfather)quarrelled,youknow.”
“Buthefoundyouagainwithverylittletrouble,didhenot?Inspiteofalltheyearsthathadpassed?”
“Yes,itwasquiteabitofluckmyseeingthelawyer’sadvertisement.”
Poirotaskednomorequestions.
OurnextmovewastovisitDr.Quentin.Hisstorywassubstantiallythesameashehadtoldattheinquest,andhehadlittletoaddtoit.Hereceivedusinhissurgery,havingjustcometotheendofhisconsultingpatients.Heseemedanintelligentman.Acertainprimnessofmannerwentwellwithhispince-nez,butIfanciedthathewouldbethoroughlymoderninhismethods.
“IwishIcouldrememberaboutthewindow,”hesaidfrankly.“Butit’sdangeroustothinkback,onebecomesquitepositiveaboutsomethingthatneverexisted.That’spsychology,isn’tit,M.Poirot?Yousee,I’vereadallaboutyourmethods,andImaysayI’manenormousadmirerofyours.No,Isupposeit’sprettycertainthattheChinamanputthepowderedopiuminthecurry,buthe’llneveradmitit,andweshallneverknowwhy.Butholdingamandowninafire—that’snotinkeepingwithourChinesefriend’scharacter,itseemstome.”
IcommentedonthislastpointtoPoirotaswewalkeddownthemainstreetofMarketHandford.
“Doyouthinkheletaconfederatein?”Iasked.“Bytheway,IsupposeJappcanbetrustedtokeepaneyeonhim?”(TheInspectorhadpassedintothepolicestationonsomebusinessorother.)“TheemissariesoftheBigFourareprettyspry.”
“Jappiskeepinganeyeonbothofthem,”saidPoirotgrimly.“Theyhavebeencloselyshadowedeversincethebodywasdiscovered.”
“Well,atanyrateweknowthatGeraldPaynterhadnothingtodowithit.”
“YoualwaysknowsomuchmorethanIdo,Hastings,thatitbecomesquitefatiguing.”
“Youoldfox,”Ilaughed.“Youneverwillcommityourself.”
“Tobehonest,Hastings,thecaseisnowquitecleartome—allbutthewords,YellowJasmine—andIamcomingtoagreewithyouthattheyhavenobearingonthecrime.Inacaseofthiskind,youhavegottomakeupyourmindwhoislying.Ihavedonethat.Andyet—”
Hesuddenlydartedfrommysideandenteredanadjacentbookshop.Heemergedafewminuteslater,huggingaparcel.ThenJapprejoinedus,andweallsoughtquartersattheinn.
Isleptlatethenextmorning.WhenIdescendedtothesittingroomreservedforus,IfoundPoirotalreadythere,pacingupanddown,hisfacecontortedwithagony.
“Donotconversewithme,”hecried,wavinganagitatedhand.“NotuntilIknowthatalliswell—thatthearrestismade.Ah!butmypsychologyhasbeenweak.Hastings,ifamanwritesadyingmessage,itisbecauseitisimportant.Everyonehassaid—‘YellowJasmine?Thereisyellowjasminegrowingupthehouse—itmeansnothing.’”
“Well,whatdoesitmean?Justwhatitsays.Listen.”Heheldupalittlebookhewasholding.
“Myfriend,itstruckmethatitwouldbewelltoinquireintothesubject.Whatexactlyisyellowjasmine?Thislittlebookhastoldme.Listen.”
Heread.
“GelseminiRadix.YellowJasmine.Composition:AlkaloidsgelseminineC22H26N2O3,apotentpoisonactinglikeconiine;gelsemineC12H14NO2,actinglikestrychnine;gelsemicacid,etc.Gelsemiumisapowerfuldepressanttothecentralnervoussystem.Atalatestageinitsactionitparalysesthemotornerveendings,andinlargedosescausesgiddinessandlossofmuscularpower.Deathisduetoparalysisoftherespiratorycentre.”
“Yousee,Hastings?AtthebeginningIhadaninklingofthetruthwhenJappmadehisremarkaboutalivemanbeingforcedintothefire.Irealizedthenthatitwasadeadmanwhowasburned.”
“Butwhy?Whatwasthepoint?”
“Myfriend,ifyouweretoshootaman,orstabamanafterheweredead,orevenknockhimonthehead,itwouldbeapparentthattheinjurieswereinflictedafterdeath.Butwithhisheadcharredtoacinder,nooneisgoingtohuntaboutforobscurecausesofdeath,andamanwhohasapparentlyjustescapedbeingpoisonedatdinnerisnotlikelytobepoisonedjustafterwards.Whoislying,thatisalwaysthequestion?IdecidedtobelieveAhLing—”
“What!”Iexclaimed.
“Youaresurprised,Hastings?AhLingknewoftheexistenceoftheBigFour,thatwasevident—soevidentthatitwasclearheknewnothingoftheirassociationwiththecrimeuntilthatmoment.Hadhebeenthemurderer,hewouldhavebeenabletoretainhisimpassivefaceperfectly.SoIdecided,then,tobelieveAhLing,andIfixedmysuspicionsNumberFourwouldhavefoundanimpersonationofalong-lostnephewveryeasy.”
“What!”Icried.“NumberFour?”
“No,Hastings,notNumberFour.AssoonasIhadreadupthesubjectofyellowjasmine,Isawthetruth.Infact,itleapttotheeye.”
“Asalways,”Isaidcoldly,“itdoesn’tleaptomine.”
“Becauseyouwillnotuseyourlittlegreycells.Whohadachancetotamperwiththecurry?”
“AhLing.Nooneelse.”
“Nooneelse?Whataboutthedoctor?”
“Butthatwasafterwards.”
“Ofcourseitwasafterwards.TherewasnotraceofpowderedopiuminthecurryservedtoMr.Paynter,butactinginobediencetothesuspicionsDr.Quentinhadaroused,theoldmaneatsnoneofit,andpreservesittogivetohismedicalattendant,whomhesummonsaccordingtoplan.Dr.Quentinarrives,takeschargeofthecurry,andgivesMr.Paynteraninjection—ofstrychnine,hesays,butreallyofyellowjasmine—apoisonousdose.Whenthedrugbeginstotakeeffect,hedeparts,afterunlatchingthewindow.Then,inthenight,hereturnsbythewindow,findsthemanuscript,andshovesMr.Paynterintothefire.Hedoesnotheedthenewspaperthatdropstothefloorandiscoveredbytheoldman’sbody.Paynterknewwhatdrughehadbeengiven,andstrovetoaccusetheBigFourofhismurder.ItiseasyforQuentintomixpowderedopiumwiththecurrybeforehandingitovertobeanalysed.Hegiveshisversionoftheconversationwiththeoldman,andmentionsthestrychnineinjectioncasually,incasethemarkofthehypodermicneedleisnoticed.tweenaccidentandtheguiltofAhLingowingtothepoisonofthecurry.”
“ButDr.QuentincannotbeNumberFour?”
“Ifancyhecan.ThereisundoubtedlyarealDr.Quentinwhoisprobablyabroadsomewhere.NumberFourhassimplymasqueradedashimforashorttime.ThearrangementswithDr.Bolithowereallcarriedoutbycorrespondence,themanwhowastodolocumorginallyhavingbeentakenillatthelastminute.”
Atthatminute,Jappburstin,veryredintheface.
“Haveyougothim?”criedPoirotanxiously.
Jappshookhishead,veryoutofbreath
“Bolithocamebackfromhisholidaythismorning—recalledbytelegram.Nooneknowswhosentit.Theothermanleftlastnight.We’llcatchhimyet,though.”
Poirotshookhisheadquietly.
“Ithinknot,”hesaid,andabsentmindedlyhedrewabig4onthetablewithafork.
Eleven
ACHESSPROBLEM
PoirotandIoftendinedatasmallrestaurantinSoho.Wewerethereoneevening,whenweobservedafriendatanadjacenttable.ItwasInspectorJapp,andastherewasroomatourtable,hecameandjoinedus.Itwassometimesinceeitherofushadseenhim.
“Neverdoyoudropintoseeusnowadays,”declaredPoirotreproachfully.“NotsincetheaffairoftheYellowJasminehavewemet,andthatisnearlyamonthago.”
“I’vebeenupnorth—that’swhy.Howarethingswithyou?BigFourstillgoingstrong—eh?”
Poirotshookafingerathimreproachfully.
“Ah!Youmockyourselfatme—buttheBigFour—theyexist.”
“Oh!Idon’tdoubtthat—butthey’renotthehuboftheuniverse,asyoumakeout.”
“Myfriend,youareverymuchmistaken.Thegreatestpowerforevilintheworldtodayisthis‘BigFour.’Towhatendtheyaretending,nooneknows,buttherehasneverbeenanothersuchcriminalorganization.ThefinestbraininChinaattheheadofit,anAmericanmillionaire,andaFrenchwomanscientistasmembers,andforthefourth—”
Jappinterrupted.
“Iknow—Iknow.Regularbeeinyourbonnetoveritall.It’sbecomingyourlittlemania,MoosiorPoirot.Let’stalkofsomethingelseforachange.Takeanyinterestinchess?”
“Ihaveplayedit,yes.”
“Didyouseethatcuriousbusinessyesterday?Matchbetweentwoplayersofworldwidereputation,andonediedduringthegame?”
“Isawmentionofit.Dr.Savaronoff,theRussianchampion,wasoneoftheplayers,andtheother,whosuccumbedtoheartfailure,wasthebrilliantyoungAmerican,GilmourWilson.”
“Quiteright.SavaronoffbeatRubinsteinandbecameRussianchampionsomeyearsago.WilsonwassaidtobeasecondCapablanca.”
“Averycuriousoccurrence,”musedPoirot.“IfImistakenot,youhaveaparticularinterestinthematter?”
Jappgavearatherembarrassedlaugh.
“You’vehitit,MoosiorPoirot.I’mpuzzled.Wilsonwassoundasabell—notraceofhearttrouble.Hisdeathisquiteinexplicable.”
“YoususpectDr.Savaronoffofputtinghimoutoftheway?”Icried.
“Hardlythat,”saidJappdryly.“Idon’tthinkevenaRussianwouldmurderanothermaninordernottobebeatenatchess—andanyway,fromallIcanmakeout,thebootwaslikelytobeontheotherleg.Thedoctorissupposedtobeveryhotstuff—secondtoLaskertheysayheis.”
Poirotnoddedthoughtfully.
“Thenwhatexactlyisyourlittleidea?”heasked.“WhyshouldWilsonbepoisoned?For,Iassume,ofcourse,thatitispoisonyoususpect.”
“Naturally.Heartfailuremeansyourheartstopsbeating—that’sallthereistothat.That’swhatadoctorsaysofficiallyatthemoment,butprivatelyhetipsusthewinkthathe’snotsatisfied.”
“Whenistheautopsytotakeplace?”
“Tonight.Wilson’sdeathwasextraordinarilysudden.Heseemedquiteasusualandwasactuallymovingoneofthepieceswhenhesuddenlyfellforward—dead!”
“Thereareveryfewpoisonswouldactinsuchafashion,”objectedPoirot.
“Iknow.Theautopsywillhelpus,Iexpect.ButwhyshouldanyonewantGilmourWilsonoutoftheway—that’swhatI’dliketoknow?Harmless,unassumingyoungfellow.JustcomeoverherefromtheStates,andapparentlyhadn’tanenemyintheworld.”
“Itseemsincredible,”Imused.
“Notatall,”saidPoirot,smiling.“Japphashistheory,Icansee.”
“Ihave,MoosiorPoirot.Idon’tbelievethepoisonwasmeantforWilson—itwasmeantfortheotherman.”
“Savaronoff?”
“Yes.SavaronofffellfouloftheBolsheviksattheoutbreakoftheRevolution.Hewasevenreportedkilled.Inrealityheescaped,andforthreeyearsenduredincrediblehardshipsinthewildsofSiberia.Hissufferingsweresogreatthatheisnowachangedman.Hisfriendsandacquaintancesdeclaretheywouldhardlyhaverecognizedhim.Hishairiswhite,andhiswholeaspectthatofamanterriblyaged.Heisasemi-invalid,andseldomgoesout,livingalonewithaniece,SoniaDaviloff,andaRussianmanservantinaflatdownWestminsterway.Itispossiblethathestillconsidershimselfamarkedman.Certainlyhewasveryunwillingtoagreetothischesscontest.Herefusedseveraltimespointblank,anditwasonlywhenthenewspaperstookitupandbeganmakingafussaboutthe‘unsportsmanlikerefusal’thathegavein.GilmourWilsonhadgoneonchallenginghimwithrealYankeepertinacity,andintheendhegothisway.NowIaskyou,MoosiorPoirot,whywasn’thewilling?Becausehedidn’twantattentiondrawntohim.Didn’twantsomebodyorothertogetonhistrack.That’smysolution—GilmourWilsongotpippedbymistake.”
“ThereisnoonewhohasanyprivatereasontogainbySavaronoff’sdeath?”
“Well,hisniece,Isuppose.He’srecentlycomeintoanimmensefortune.LefthimbyMadameGospojawhosehusbandwasasugarprofiteerundertheoldregime.Theyhadanaffairtogetheronce,Ibelieve,andsherefusedsteadfastlytocreditthereportsofhisdeath.”
“Wheredidthematchtakeplace?”
“InSavaronoff’sownflat.He’saninvalid,asItoldyou.”
“Manypeopletheretowatchit?”
“Atleastadozen—probablymore.”
Poirotmadeanexpressivegrimace.
“MypoorJapp,yourtaskisnotaneasyone.”
“OnceIknowdefinitelythatWilsonwaspoisoned,Icangeton.”
“Hasitoccurredtoyouthat,inthemeantime,supposingyourassumptionthatSavaronoffwastheintendedvictimtobecorrect,themurderermaytryagain?”
“Ofcourseithas.TwomenarewatchingSavaronoff’sflat.”
“Thatwillbeveryusefulifanyoneshouldcallwithabombunderhisarm,”saidPoirotdryly.
“You’regettinginterested,MoosiorPoirot,”saidJapp,withatwinkle.“CaretocomeroundtothemortuaryandseeWilson’sbodybeforethedoctorsstartonit?Whoknows,histiepinmaybeaskew,andthatmaygiveyouavaluablecluethatwillsolvethemystery.”
“MydearJapp,allthroughdinnermyfingershavebeenitchingtorearrangeyourowntiepin.Youpermit,yes?Ah!thatismuchmorepleasingtotheeye.Yes,byallmeans,letusgotothemortuary.”
IcouldseethatPoirot’sattentionwascompletelycaptivatedbythisnewproblem.ItwassolongsincehehadshownanyinterestoveranyoutsidecasethatIwasquiterejoicedtoseehimbackinhisoldform.
Formyownpart,IfeltadeeppityasIlookeddownuponthemotionlessformandconvulsedfaceofthehaplessyoungAmericanwhohadcomebyhisdeathinsuchastrangeway.Poirotexaminedthebodyattentively.Therewasnomarkonitanywhere,exceptasmallscaronthelefthand.
“Andthedoctorsaysthat’saburn,notacut,”explainedJapp.
Poirot’sattentionshiftedtothecontentsofthedeadman’spocketswhichaconstablespreadoutforourinspection.Therewasnothingmuch—ahandkerchief,keys,notecasefilledwithnotes,andsomeunimportantletters.ButoneobjectstandingbyitselffilledPoirotwithinterest.
“Achessman!”heexclaimed.“Awhitebishop.Wasthatinhispocket?”
“No,claspedinhishand.Wehadquiteadifficultytogetitoutofhisfingers.ItmustbereturnedtoDr.Savaronoffsometime.It’spartofaverybeautifulsetofcarvedivorychessmen.”
“Permitmetoreturnittohim.Itwillmakeanexcuseformygoingthere.”
“Aha!”criedJapp.“Soyouwanttocomeinonthiscase?”
“Iadmitit.Soskilfullyhaveyouarousedmyinterest.”
“That’sfine.Gotyouawayfromyourbrooding.CaptainHastingsispleased,too,Icansee.”
“Quiteright,”Isaid,laughing.
Poirotturnedbacktowardsthebody.
“Nootherlittledetailyoucantellmeabout—him?”heasked.
“Idon’tthinkso.”
“Noteven—thathewasleft-handed?”
“You’reawizard,MoosiorPoirot.Howdidyouknowthat?Hewasleft-handed.Notthatit’sanythingtodowiththecase.”
“Nothingwhatever,”agreedPoirothastily,seeingthatJappwasslightlyruffled.“Mylittlejoke—thatwasall.Iliketoplayyouthetrick,seeyou.”
Wewentoutuponanamicableunderstanding.
ThefollowingmorningsawuswendingourwaytoDr.Savaronoff’sflatinWestminster.
“SoniaDaviloff,”Imused.“It’saprettyname.”
Poirotstopped,andthrewmealookofdespair.
“Alwayslookingforromance!Youareincorrigible.ItwouldserveyourightifSoniaDaviloffturnedouttobeourfriendandenemytheCountessVeraRossakoff.”
Atthementionofthecountess,myfacecloudedover.
“Surely,Poirot,youdon’tsuspect—”
“But,no,no.Itwasajoke!IhavenottheBigFouronthebraintothatextent,whateverJappmaysay.”
Thedooroftheflatwasopenedtousbyamanservantwithapeculiarlywoodenface.Itseemedimpossibletobelievethatthatimpassivecountenancecouldeverdisplayemotion.
PoirotpresentedacardonwhichJapphadscribbledafewwordsofintroduction,andwewereshownintoalow,longroomfurnishedwithrichhangingsandcurios.Oneortwowonderfulikonshunguponthewalls,andexquisitePersianrugslayuponthefloor.Asamovarstooduponatable.
IwasexaminingoneoftheikonswhichIjudgedtobeofconsiderablevalue,andturnedtoseePoirotproneuponthefloor.Beautifulastherugwas,ithardlyseemedtometonecessitatesuchcloseattention.
“Isitsuchaverywonderfulspecimen?”Iasked.
“Eh?Oh!therug?Butno,itwasnottherugIwasremarking.Butitisabeautifulspecimen,fartoobeautifultohavealargenailwantonlydriventhroughthemiddleofit.No,Hastings,”asIcameforward,“thenailisnottherenow.Buttheholeremains.”
Asuddensoundbehindusmademespinround,andPoirotsprangnimblytohisfeet.Agirlwasstandinginthedoorway.Hereyes,fulluponus,weredarkwithsuspicion.Shewasofmediumheight,withabeautiful,rathersullenface,darkblueeyes,andveryblackhairwhichwascutshort.Hervoice,whenshespoke,wasrichandsonorous,andcompletelyun-English.
“Ifearmyunclewillbeunabletoseeyou.Heisagreatinvalid.”
“Thatisapity,butperhapsyouwillkindlyhelpmeinstead.YouareMademoiselleDaviloff,areyounot?”
“Yes,IamSoniaDaviloff.Whatisityouwanttoknow?”
“Iammakingsomeinquiriesaboutthatsadaffairthenightbeforelast—thedeathofM.GilmourWilson.Whatcanyoutellmeaboutit?”
Thegirl’seyesopenedwide.
“Hediedofheartfailure—ashewasplayingchess.”
“Thepolicearenotsosurethatitwas—heartfailure,mademoiselle.”
Thegirlgaveaterrifiedgesture.
“Itwastruethen,”shecried.“Ivanwasright.”
“WhoisIvan,andwhydoyousayhewasright?”
“ItwasIvanwhoopenedthedoortoyou—andhehasalreadysaidtomethatinhisopinionGilmourWilsondidnotdieanaturaldeath—thathewaspoisonedbymistake.”
“Bymistake.”
“Yes,thepoisonwasmeantformyuncle.”
Shehadquiteforgottenherfirstdistrustnow,andwasspeakingeagerly.
“Whydoyousaythat,mademoiselle?WhoshouldwishtopoisonDr.Savaronoff?”
Sheshookherhead.
“Idonotknow.Iaminthedark.Andmyuncle,hewillnottrustme.Itisnatural,perhaps.Yousee,hehardlyknowsme.Hesawmeasachild,andnotsincetillIcametolivewithhimhereinLondon.ButthismuchIdoknow,heisinfearofsomething.WehavemanysecretsocietiesinRussia,andonedayIoverheardsomethingwhichmademethinkitwasofjustsuchasocietyhewentinfear.Tellme,monsieur”—shecameastepnearer,anddroppedhervoice—“haveyoueverheardofasocietycalledthe‘BigFour?’”
Poirotjumpednearlyoutofhisskin.Hiseyespositivelybulgedwithastonishment.
“Whydoyou—whatdoyouknowoftheBigFour,mademoiselle?”
“Thereissuchanassociation,then!Ioverheardareferencetothem,andaskedmyuncleaboutitafterwards.NeverhaveIseenamansoafraid.Heturnedallwhiteandshaking.Hewasinfearofthem,monsieur,ingreatfear,Iamsureofit.And,bymistake,theykilledtheAmerican,Wilson.”
“TheBigFour,”murmuredPoirot.“AlwaystheBigFour!Anastonishingcoincidence,mademoiselle,youruncleisstillindanger.Imustsavehim.Nowrecounttomeexactlytheeventsofthatfatalevening.Showmethechessboard,thetable,howthetwomensat—everything.”
Shewenttothesideoftheroomandbroughtoutasmalltable.Thetopofitwasexquisite,inlaidwithsquaresofsilverandblacktorepresentachessboard.
“Thiswassenttomyuncleafewweeksagoasapresent,withtherequestthathewoulduseitinthenextmatchheplayed.Itwasinthemiddleoftheroom—so.”
Poirotexaminedthetablewithwhatseemedtomequiteunnecessaryattention.HewasnotconductingtheinquiryatallasIwouldhavedone.Manyofthequestionsseemedtomepointless,anduponreallyvitalmattersheseemedtohavenoquestionstoask.IconcludedthattheunexpectedmentionoftheBigFourhadthrownhimcompletelyoffhisbalance.
Afteraminuteexaminationofthetableandtheexactpositionithadoccupied,heaskedtoseethechessmen.SoniaDaviloffbroughtthemtohiminabox.Heexaminedoneortwooftheminaperfunctorymanner.
“Anexquisiteset,”hemurmuredabsentmindedly.
Stillnotaquestionastowhatrefreshmentstherehadbeen,orwhatpeoplehadbeenpresent.
Iclearedmythroatsignificantly.
“Don’tyouthink,Poirot,that—”
Heinterruptedmeperemptorily.
“Donotthink,myfriend.Leavealltome.Mademoiselle,isitquiteimpossiblethatIshouldseeyouruncle?”
Afaintsmileshoweditselfonherface
“Hewillseeyou,yes.Youunderstand,itismyparttointerviewallstrangersfirst.”
Shedisappeared.Iheardamurmurofvoicesinthenextroom,andaminutelatershecamebackandmotionedustopassintotheadjoiningroom.
Themanwholaythereonacouchwasanimposingfigure.Tall,gaunt,withhugebushyeyebrowsandwhitebeard,andafacehaggardastheresultofstarvationandhardships,Dr.Savaronoffwasadistinctpersonality.Inotedthepeculiarformationofhishead,itsunusualheight.Agreatchessplayermusthaveagreatbrain,Iknew.IcouldeasilyunderstandDr.Savaronoffbeingthesecondgreatestplayerintheworld.
Poirotbowed.
“M.leDocteur,mayIspeaktoyoualone?”
Savaronoffturnedtohisniece.
“Leaveus,Sonia.”
Shedisappearedobediently.
“Now,sir,whatisit?”
“Dr.Savaronoff,youhaverecentlycomeintoanenormousfortune.Ifyoushould—dieunexpectedly,whoinheritsit?”
“Ihavemadeawillleavingeverythingtomyniece,SoniaDaviloff.Youdonotsuggest—”
“Isuggestnothing,butyouhavenotseenyourniecesinceshewasachild.Itwouldhavebeeneasyforanyonetoimpersonateher.”
Savaronoffseemedthunderstruckbythesuggestion.Poirotwentoneasily.
“Enoughastothat:Igiveyouthewordofwarning,thatisall.WhatIwantyoutodonowistodescribetomethegameofchesstheotherevening.”
“Howdoyoumean—describeit?”
“Well,Idonotplaythechessmyself,butIunderstandthattherearevariousregularwaysofbeginning—thegambit,dotheynotcallit?”
Dr.Savaronoffsmiledalittle.
“Ah!Icomprehendyounow.WilsonopenedRuyLopez—oneofthesoundestopeningsthereis,andonefrequentlyadoptedintournamentsandmatches.”
“Andhowlonghadyoubeenplayingwhenthetragedyhappened?”
“ItmusthavebeenaboutthethirdorfourthmovewhenWilsonsuddenlyfellforwardoverthetable,stonedead.”
Poirotrosetodepart.Heflungouthislastquestionasthoughitwasofabsolutelynoimportance,butIknewbetter
“Hadheanythingtoeatordrink?”
“Awhiskyandsoda,Ithink.”
“Thankyou,Dr.Savaronoff.Iwilldisturbyounolonger.”
Ivanwasinthehalltoshowusout.Poirotlingeredonthethreshold.
“Theflatbelowthis,doyouknowwholivesthere?”
“SirCharlesKingwell,amemberofParliament,sir.Ithasbeenletfurnishedlately,though.”
“Thankyou.”
Wewentoutintothebrightwintersunlight.
“Well,really,Poirot,”Iburstout.“Idon’tthinkyou’vedistinguishedyourselfthistime.Surelyyourquestionswereveryinadequate.”
“Youthinkso,Hastings?”Poirotlookedatmeappealingly.“Iwasbouleversé,yes.Whatwouldyouhaveasked?”
Iconsideredthequestioncarefully,andthenoutlinedmyschemetoPoirot.Helistenedwithwhatseemedtobecloseinterest.Mymonologuelasteduntilwehadnearlyreachedhome.
“Veryexcellent,verysearching,Hastings,”saidPoirot,asheinsertedhiskeyinthedoorandprecededmeupthestairs.“Butquiteunnecessary.”
“Unnecessary!”Icried,amazed.“Ifthemanwaspoisoned—”
“Aha,”criedPoirot,pouncinguponanotewhichlayonthetable.“FromJapp.JustasIthought.”Heflungitovertome.Itwasbriefandtothepoint.Notracesofpoisonhadbeenfound,andtherewasnothingtoshowhowthemancamebyhisdeath.
“Yousee,”saidPoirot,“ourquestionswouldhavebeenquiteunnecessary.”
“Youguessedthisbeforehand?”
“‘Forecasttheprobableresultofthedeal,’”quotedPoirotfromarecentbridgeproblemonwhichIhadspentmuchtime.“Monami,whenyoudothatsuccessfully,youdonotcallitguessing.”
“Don’tlet’ssplithairs,”Isaidimpatiently.“Youforesawthis?”
“Idid.”
“Why?”
Poirotputhishandintohispocketandpulledout—awhitebishop.
“Why,”Icried,“youforgottogiveitbacktoDr.Savaronoff.”
“Youareinerror,myfriend.Thatbishopstillreposesinmyleft-handpocket.ItookitsfellowfromtheboxofchessmenMademoiselleDaviloffkindlypermittedmetoexamine.Thepluralofonebishopistwobishops.”
Hesoundedthefinal“s”withagreathiss.Iwascompletelymystified.
“Butwhydidyoutakeit?”
“Parbleu,Iwantedtoseeiftheywereexactlyalike.”
Poirotlookedatthemwithhisheadononeside.
“Theyseemso,Iadmit.Butoneshouldtakenofactforgranteduntilitisproved.Bringme,Iprayyou,mylittlescales.”
Withinfinitecareheweighedthetwochessmen,thenturnedtomewithafacealightwithtriumph.
“Iwasright.Seeyou,Iwasright.ImpossibletodeceiveHerculePoirot!”
Herushedtothetelephone—waitedimpatiently.
“IsthatJapp?Ah!Japp,itisyou.HerculePoirotspeaks.Watchthemanservant.Ivan.Onnoaccountlethimslipthroughyourfingers.Yes,yes,itisasIsay.”
Hedasheddownthereceiverandturnedtome.
“Youseeitnot,Hastings?Iwillexplain.Wilsonwasnotpoisoned,hewaselectrocuted.Athinmetalrodpassesupthemiddleofoneofthosechessmen.Thetablewaspreparedbeforehandandsetuponacertainspotonthefloor.Whenthebishopwasplacedupononeofthesilversquares,thecurrentpassedthroughWilson’sbody,killinghiminstantly.Theonlymarkwastheelectricburnuponhishand—hislefthand,becausehewasleft-handed.The‘specialtable’wasanextremelycunningpieceofmechanism.ThetableIexaminedwasaduplicate,perfectlyinnocent.Itwassubstitutedfortheotherimmediatelyafterthemurder.Thethingwasworkedfromtheflatbelow,which,ifyouremember,wasletfurnished.ButoneaccompliceatleastwasinSavaronoff’sflat.ThegirlisanagentoftheBigFour,workingtoinheritSavaronoff’smoney.”
“AndIvan?”
“IstronglysuspectthatIvanisnoneotherthanthefamousNumberFour.”
“What?”
“Yes.Themanisamarvellouscharacteractor.Hecanassumeanyparthepleases.”
Ithoughtbackoverpastadventures,thelunaticasylumkeeper,thebutcher’syoungman,thesuavedoctor,allthesameman,andalltotallyunlikeeachother.
“It’samazing,”Isaidatlast.“Everythingfitsin.Savaronoffhadaninklingoftheplot,andthat’swhyhewassoaversetoplayingthematch.”
Poirotlookedatmewithoutspeaking.Thenheturnedabruptlyaway,andbeganpacingupanddown.
“Haveyouabookonchessbyanychance,monami?”heaskedsuddenly.
“IbelieveIhavesomewhere.”
Ittookmesometimetoferretitout,butIfounditatlast,andbroughtittoPoirot,whosankdowninachairandstartedreadingitwiththegreatestattention.
Inaboutaquarterofanhourthetelephonerang.Iansweredit.ItwasJapp.Ivanhadlefttheflat,carryingalargebundle.Hehadsprungintoawaitingtaxi,andthechasehadbegun.Hewasevidentlytryingtolosehispursuers.Intheendheseemedtofancythathehaddoneso,andhadthendriventoabigemptyhouseatHampstead.Thehousewassurrounded.
IrecountedallthistoPoirot.HemerelystaredatmeasthoughhescarcelytookinwhatIwassaying.Heheldoutthechessbook.
“Listentothis,myfriend.ThisistheRuyLopezopening.1P-K4,P-K4;2Kt-KB3,K-QB3;3B-Kt5.ThentherecomesaquestionastoBlack’sbestthirdmove.Hehasthechoiceofvariousdefences.ItwasWhite’sthirdmovethatkilledGilmourWilson,3B-Kt5.Onlythethirdmove—doesthatsaynothingtoyou?”
Ihadn’ttheleastideawhathemeant,andtoldhimso.
“Suppose,Hastings,that,whileyouweresittinginthischair,youheardthefrontdoorbeingopenedandshut,whatwouldyouthink?”
“Ishouldthinksomeonehadgoneout,Isuppose.”
“Yes—buttherearealwaystwowaysoflookingatthings.Someonegoneout—someonecomein—twototallydifferentthings,Hastings.Butifyouassumedthewrongone,presentlysomelittlediscrepancywouldcreepinandshowyouthatyouwereonthewrongtrack.”
“Whatdoesallthismean,Poirot?”
Poirotsprangtohisfeetwithsuddenenergy.
“ItmeansthatIhavebeenatripleimbecile.Quick,quick,totheflatinWestminster.Wemayyetbeintime.”
Wetoreoffinataxi.Poirotreturnednoanswertomyexcitedquestions.Weracedupthestairs.Repeatedringsandknocksbroughtnoreply,butlisteningcloselyIcoulddistinguishahollowgroancomingfromwithin.
Thehallporterprovedtohaveamasterkey,andafterafewdifficultiesheconsentedtouseit.
Poirotwentstraighttotheinnerroom.Awhiffofchloroformmetus.OnthefloorwasSoniaDaviloff,gaggedandbound,withagreatwadofsaturatedcottonwooloverhernoseandmouth.Poirottoreitoffandbegantotakemeasurestorestoreher.Presentlyadoctorarrived,andPoirothandedherovertohischargeanddrewasidewithme.TherewasnosignofDr.Savaronoff.
“Whatdoesitallmean?”Iasked,bewildered.
“ItmeansthatbeforetwoequaldeductionsIchosethewrongone.YouheardmesaythatitwouldbeeasyforanyonetoimpersonateSoniaDaviloffbecauseherunclehadnotseenherforsomanyyears?”
“Yes?”
“Well,preciselytheoppositeheldgoodalso.Itwasequallyeasyforanyonetoimpersonatetheuncle.”
“What?”
“SavaronoffdiddieattheoutbreakoftheRevolution.Themanwhopretendedtohaveescapedwithsuchterriblehardships,themansochanged‘thathisownfriendscouldhardlyrecognizehim,’themanwhosuccessfullylaidclaimtoanenormousfortune—”
“Yes.Whowashe?”
“NumberFour.NowonderhewasfrightenedwhenSonialethimknowshehadoverheardoneofhisprivateconversationsaboutthe‘BigFour.’Againhehasslippedthroughmyfingers.HeguessedIshouldgetontherighttrackintheend,sohesentoffthehonestIvanonatortuouswildgoosechase,chloroformedthegirl,andgotout,havingbynowdoubtlessrealizedmostofthesecuritiesleftbyMadameGospoja.”
“But—butwhotriedtokillhimthen?”
“Nobodytriedtokillhim.Wilsonwastheintendedvictimallalong.”
“Butwhy?”
“Myfriend,Savaronoffwasthesecond-greatestchessplayerintheworld.InallprobabilityNumberFourdidnotevenknowtherudimentsofthegame.Certainlyhecouldnotsustainthefictionofamatch.Hetriedallheknewtoavoidthecontest.Whenthatfailed,Wilson’sdoomwassealed.AtallcostshemustbepreventedfromdiscoveringthatthegreatSavaronoffdidnotevenknowhowtoplaychess.WilsonwasfondoftheRuyLopezopening,andwascertaintouseit.NumberFourarrangedfordeathtocomewiththethirdmove,beforeanycomplicationsofdefencesetin.”
“But,mydearPoirot,”Ipersisted,“arewedealingwithalunatic?Iquitefollowyourreasoning,andadmitthatyoumustberight,buttokillamanjusttosustainhisrole!Surelythereweresimplerwaysoutofthedifficultythanthat?Hecouldhavesaidthathisdoctorforbadethestrainofamatch.”
Poirotwrinkledhisforehead.
“Certainement,Hastings,”hesaid,“therewereotherways,butnonesoconvincing.Besides,youareassumingthattokillamanisathingtoavoid,areyounot?NumberFour’smind,itdoesnotactthatway.Iputmyselfinhisplace,athingimpossibleforyou.Ipicturehisthoughts.Heenjoyshimselfastheprofessoratthatmatch,Idoubtnothehasvisitedthechesstourneystostudyhispart.Hesitsandfrownsinthought;hegivestheimpressionthatheisthinkinggreatplans,andallthetimehelaughsinhimself.Heisawarethattwomovesareallthatheknows—andallthatheneedknow.Again,itwouldappealtohismindtoforeseethetimethatsuitsNumberFour…Oh,yes,Hastings,Ibegintounderstandourfriendandhispsychology.”
Ishrugged.
“Well,Isupposeyou’reright,butIcan’tunderstandanyonerunningariskhecouldsoeasilyavoid.”
“Risk!”Poirotsnorted.“Wherethenlaytherisk?WouldJapphavesolvedtheproblem?No;ifNumberFourhadnotmadeonesmallmistakehewouldhaverunnorisk.”
“Andhismistake?”Iasked,althoughIsuspectedtheanswer.
“Monami,heoverlookedthelittlegreycellsofHerculePoirot.”
Poirothashisvirtues,butmodestyisnotoneofthem.
Twelve
THEBAITEDTRAP
Itwasmid-January—atypicalEnglishwinterdayinLondon,dampanddirty.PoirotandIweresittingintwochairswelldrawnuptothefire.Iwasawareofmyfriendlookingatmewithaquizzicalsmile,themeaningofwhichIcouldnotfathom.
“Apennyforyourthoughts,”Isaidlightly.
“Iwasthinking,myfriend,thatatmidsummer,whenyoufirstarrived,youtoldmethatyouproposedtobeinthiscountryforacoupleofmonthsonly.”
“DidIsaythat?”Iasked,ratherawkwardly.“Idon’tremember.”
Poirot’ssmilebroadened.
“Youdid,monami.Sincethen,youhavechangedyourplan,isitnotso?”
“Er—yes,Ihave.”
“Andwhyisthat?”
“Dashitall,Poirot,youdon’tthinkI’mgoingtoleaveyouallalonewhenyou’reupagainstathinglikethe‘BigFour,’doyou?”
Poirotnoddedgently.
“JustasIthought.Youareastaunchfriend,Hastings.Itistoservemethatyouremainonhere.Andyourwife—littleCinderellaasyoucallher,whatdoesshesay?”
“Ihaven’tgoneintodetails,ofcourse,butsheunderstands.She’dbethelastonetowishmetoturnmybackonapal.”
“Yes,yes,she,too,isaloyalfriend.Butitisgoingtobealongbusiness,perhaps.”
Inodded,ratherdiscouraged.
“Sixmonthsalready,”Imused,“andwherearewe?Youknow,Poirot,Ican’thelpthinkingthatweoughtto—well,todosomething.”
“Alwayssoenergetic,Hastings!Andwhatpreciselywouldyouhavemedo?”
Thiswassomewhatofaposer,butIwasnotgoingtowithdrawfrommyposition
“Weoughttotaketheoffensive,”Iurged.“Whathavewedoneallthistime?”
“Morethanyouthink,myfriend.Afterall,wehaveestablishedtheidentityofNumberTwoandNumberThree,andwehavelearntmorethanalittleaboutthewaysandmethodsofNumberFour.”
Ibrightenedupalittle.AsPoirotputit,thingsdidn’tsoundsobad.
“Oh!Yes,Hastings,wehavedoneagreatdeal.ItistruethatIamnotinapositiontoaccuseeitherRylandorMadameOlivier—whowouldbelieveme?YourememberIthoughtonceIhadRylandsuccessfullycornered?NeverthelessIhavemademysuspicionsknownincertainquarters—thehighest—LordAldington,whoenlistedmyhelpinthematterofthestolensubmarineplans,isfullycognizantofallmyinformationrespectingtheBigFour—andwhileothersmaydoubt,hebelieves.RylandandMadameOlivier,andLiChangYenhimselfmaygotheirways,butthereisasearchlightturnedonalltheirmovements.”
“AndNumberFour?”Iasked.
“AsIsaidjustnow—Iambeginningtoknowandunderstandhismethods.Youmaysmile,Hastings—buttopenetrateaman’spersonality,toknowexactlywhathewilldounderanygivencircumstances—thatisthebeginningofsuccess.Itisaduelbetweenus,andwhilstheisconstantlygivingawayhismentalitytome,Iendeavourtolethimknowlittleornothingofmine.Heisinthelight,Iintheshade.Itellyou,Hastings,thateverydaytheyfearmethemoreformychoseninactivity.”
“They’veletusalone,anyway,”Iobserved.“Therehavebeennomoreattemptsonyourlife,andnoambushesofanykind.”
“No,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Onthewhole,thatrathersurprisesme.EspeciallyasthereareoneortwofairlyobviouswaysofgettingatuswhichIshouldhavethoughtcertaintohaveoccurredtothem.Youcatchmymeaning,perhaps?”
“Aninfernalmachineofsomekind?”Ihazarded.
Poirotmadeasharpclickwithhistongueexpressiveofimpatience.
“Butno!Iappealtoyourimagination,andyoucansuggestnothingmoresubtlethanbombsinthefireplace.Well,well,Ihaveneedofsomematches,Iwillpromenademyselfdespitetheweather.Pardon,myfriend,butitispossiblethatyoureadTheFutureoftheArgentine,MirrorofSociety,CattleBreeding,TheClueofCrimson,andSportintheRockiesatoneandthesametime?”
Ilaughed,andadmittedthatTheClueofCrimsonwasatpresentengagingmysoleattention.Poirotshookhisheadsadly.
“Butreplacethentheothersonthebookshelf!Never,nevershallIseeyouembracetheorderandthemethod.MonDieu,whatthenisabookshelffor?”
Iapologizedhumbly,andPoirot,afterreplacingtheoffendingvolumes,eachinitsappointedplace,wentoutandleftmetouninterruptedenjoymentofmyselectedbook.
Imustadmit,however,thatIwashalfasleepwhenMrs.Pearson’sknockatthedoorarousedme.
“Atelegramforyou,captain.”
Itoretheorangeenvelopeopenwithoutmuchinterest.
ThenIsatasthoughturnedtostone.
ItwasacablefromBronsen,mymanageroutattheSouthAmericanranch,anditranasfollows:
Mrs.Hastingsdisappearedyesterday,fearedbeenkidnappedbysomegangcallingitselfbigfourcableinstructionshavenotifiedpolicebutnoclueasyetBronsen.
IwavedMrs.Pearsonoutoftheroom,andsatasthoughstunned,readingthewordsoverandoveragain.Cinderella—kidnapped!InthehandsoftheimfamousBigFour!God,whatcouldIdo?
Poirot!ImusthavePoirot.Hewouldadviseme.Hewouldcheckmatethemsomehow.Inafewminutesnow,hewouldbeback.Imustwaitpatientlyuntilthen.ButCinderella—inthehandsoftheBigFour!
Anotherknock.Mrs.Pearsonputherheadinoncemore.
“Anoteforyou,captain—broughtbyaheathenChinaman.He’sa-waitingdownstairs.”
Iseizeditfromher.Itwasbriefandtothepoint.
“Ifyoueverwishtoseeyourwifeagain,gowiththebearerofthisnoteimmediately.Leavenomessageforyourfriendorshewillsuffer.”
Itwassignedwithabig4.
WhatoughtItohavedone?Whatwouldyouwhoreadhavedoneinmyplace?
Ihadnotimetothink.Isawonlyonething—Cinderellainthepowerofthosedevils.Imustobey—Idarenotriskahairofherhead.ImustgowiththisChinamanandfollowwhitherheled.Itwasatrap,yes,anditmeantcertaincaptureandpossibledeath,butitwasbaitedwiththepersondearesttomeinthewholeworld,andIdarednothesitate.
WhatirkedmemostwastoleavenowordforPoirot.Oncesethimonmytrack,andallmightyetbewell!DareIriskit?ApparentlyIwasundernosupervision,butyetIhesitated.ItwouldhavebeensoeasyfortheChinamantocomeupandassurehimselfthatIwaskeepingtotheletterofthecommand.Whydidn’the?Hisveryabstentionmadememoresuspicious.IhadseensomuchoftheomnipotenceoftheBigFourthatIcreditedthemwithalmostsuperhumanpowers.ForallIknow,eventhelittlebedraggledservantgirlmightbeoneoftheiragents.
No,Idarednotriskit.ButonethingIcoulddo,leavethetelegram.HewouldknowthenthatCinderellahaddisappeared,andwhowasresponsibleforherdisappearance.
Allthispassedthroughmyheadinlesstimethanittakestotell,andIhadclappedmyhatonmyheadandwasdescendingthestairstowheremyguidewaited,inalittleoveraminute
ThebearerofthemessagewasatallimpassiveChinaman,neatlybutrathershabbilydressed.Hebowedandspoketome.HisEnglishwasperfect,buthespokewithaslightsing-songintonation.
“YouCaptainHastings?”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Yougivemenote,please.”
Ihadforeseentherequest,andhandedhimoverthescrapofpaperwithoutaword.Butthatwasnotall.
“Youhaveatelegramtoday,yes?Comealongjustnow?FromSouthAmerica,yes?”
Irealizedanewtheexcellenceoftheirespionagesystem—oritmighthavebeenashrewdguess.Bronsenwasboundtocableme.Theywouldwaituntilthecablewasdeliveredandwouldstrikeharduponit.
Nogoodcouldcomeofdenyingwhatwaspalpablytrue.
“Yes,”Isaid.“Ididgetatelegram.”
“Youfetchhim,yes?Fetchhimnow.”
Igroundmyteeth,butwhatcouldIdo?Iranupstairsagain.AsIdidso,IthoughtofconfidinginMrs.Pearson,atanyrateasfarasCinderella’sdisappearancewent.Shewasonthelanding,butclosebehindherwasthelittlemaidservant,andIhesitated.Ifshewasaspy—thewordsofthenotedancedbeforemyeyes:“…shewillsuffer…”Ipassedintothesittingroomwithoutspeaking.
Itookupthetelegramandwasabouttopassoutagainwhenanideastruckme.CouldInotleavesomesignwhichwouldmeannothingtomyenemiesbutwhichPoirothimselfwouldfindsignificant.Ihurriedacrosstothebookcaseandtumbledoutfourbooksontothefloor.NofearofPoirot’snotseeingthem.Theywouldoutragehiseyesimmediately—andcomingontopofhislittlelecture,surelyhewouldfindthemunusual.NextIputashovelfulofcoalonthefireandmanagedtospillfourknobsintothegrate.IhaddoneallIcould—prayHeavenPoirotwouldreadthesignaright.
Ihurrieddownagain.TheChinamantookthetelegramfromme,readit,thenplaceditinhispocketandwithanodbeckonedmetofollowhim.
Itwasalongwearymarchthatheledme.Oncewetookabusandoncewewentforsomeconsiderablewayinatram,andalwaysourrouteledussteadilyeastward.Wewentthroughstrangedistricts,whoseexistenceIhadneverdreamedof.Weweredownbythedocksnow,Iknew,andIrealizedthatIwasbeingtakenintotheheartofChinatown.
InspiteofmyselfIshivered.Stillmyguideploddedon,turningandtwistingthroughmeanstreetsandbyways,untilatlasthestoppedatadilapidatedhouseandrappedfourtimesuponthedoor
ItwasopenedimmediatelybyanotherChinamanwhostoodasidetoletuspassin.Theclangingtoofthedoorbehindmewastheknellofmylasthopes.Iwasindeedinthehandsoftheenemy.
IwasnowhandedovertothesecondChinaman.Heledmedownsomericketystairsandintoacellarwhichwasfilledwithbalesandcasksandwhichexhaledapungentodour,asofeasternspices.IfeltwrappedallroundwiththeatmosphereoftheEast,tortuous,cunning,sinister—
Suddenlymyguiderolledasidetwoofthecasks,andIsawalowtunnellikeopeninginthewall.Hemotionedmetogoahead.Thetunnelwasofsomelength,anditwastoolowformetostandupright.Atlast,however,itbroadenedoutintoapassage,andafewminuteslaterwestoodinanothercellar.
MyChinamanwentforward,andrappedfourtimesononeofthewalls.Awholesectionofthewallswungout,leavinganarrowdoorway.Ipassedthrough,andtomyutterastonishmentfoundmyselfinakindofArabianNights’palace.Alowlongsubterraneanchamberhungwithrichorientalsilks,brilliantlylightedandfragrantwithperfumesandspices.Therewerefiveorsixsilk-covereddivans,andexquisitecarpetsofChineseworkmanshipcoveredtheground.Attheendoftheroomwasacurtainedrecess.Frombehindthesecurtainscameavoice.
“Youhavebroughtourhonouredguest?”
“Excellency,heishere,”repliedmyguide.
“Letourguestenter,”wastheanswer
Atthesamemoment,thecurtainsweredrawnasidebyanunseenhand,andIwasfacinganimmensecushioneddivanonwhichsatatallthinOrientaldressedinwonderfullyembroideredrobes,andclearly,bythelengthofhisfingernails,agreatman.
“Beseated,Iprayyou,CaptainHastings,”hesaid,withawaveofhishand.“Youaccededtomyrequesttocomeimmediately,Iamgladtosee.”
“Whoareyou?”Iasked.“LiChangYen?”
“Indeedno,Iambutthehumblestofthemaster’sservants.Icarryouthisbehests,thatisall—asdootherofhisservantsinothercountries—inSouthAmerica,forinstance.”
Iadvancedastep.
“Whereisshe?Whathaveyoudonewithheroutthere?”
“Sheisinaplaceofsafety—wherenonewillfindher.Asyet,sheisunharmed.YouobservethatIsay—asyet!”
ColdshiversrandownmyspineasIconfrontedthissmilingdevil.
“Whatdoyouwant?”Icried.“Money?”
“MydearCaptainHastings.Wehavenodesignsonyoursmallsavings,Icanassureyou.Not—pardonme—averyintelligentsuggestiononyourpart.Yourcolleaguewouldnothavemadeit,Ifancy.”
“Isuppose,”Isaidheavily,“youwantedtogetmeintoyourtoils.Well,youhavesucceeded.Ihavecomeherewithmyeyesopen.Dowhatyoulikewithme,andlethergo.Sheknowsnothing,andshecanbenopossibleusetoyou.You’veusedhertogetholdofme—you’vegotmeallright,andthatsettlesit.”
ThesmilingOrientalcaressedhissmoothcheek,watchingmeobliquelyoutofhisnarroweyes.
“Yougotoofast,”hesaidpurringly.“Thatdoesnotquite—settleit.Infact,to‘getholdofyou’asyouexpressit,isnotreallyourobjective.Butthroughyou,wehopetogetholdofyourfriend,M.HerculePoirot.”
“I’mafraidyouwon’tdothat,”Isaid,withashortlaugh.
“WhatIsuggestisthis,”continuedtheother,hiswordsrunningonasthoughhehadnotheardme.“YouwillwriteM.HerculePoirotaletter,suchaletteraswillinducehimtohastenthitherandjoinyou.”
“Ishalldonosuchthing,”Isaidangrily.
“Theconsequencesofrefusalwillbedisagreeable.”
“Damnyourconsequences.”
“Thealternativemightbedeath!”
Anastyshiverrandownmyspine,butIendeavouredtoputaboldfaceuponit
“It’snogoodthreateningme,andbullyingme.KeepyourthreatsforChinesecowards.”
“Mythreatsareveryrealones,CaptainHastings.Iaskyouagain,willyouwritethisletter?”
“Iwillnot,andwhat’smore,youdaren’tkillme.You’dhavethepoliceonyourtracksinnotime.”
Myinterlocutorclappedhishandsswiftly.TwoChineseattendantsappearedasitwereoutoftheblue,andpinionedmebybotharms.TheirmastersaidsomethingrapidlytotheminChinese,andtheydraggedmeacrossthefloortoaspotinonecornerofthebigchamber.Oneofthemstooped,andsuddenly,withouttheleastwarning,theflooringgavebeneathmyfeet.ButfortherestraininghandoftheothermanIshouldhavegonedowntheyawninggapbeneathme.Itwasinkyblack,andIcouldheartherushingofwater.
“Theriver,”saidmyquestionerfromhisplaceonthedivan.“Thinkwell,CaptainHastings.Ifyourefuseagain,yougoheadlongtoeternity,tomeetyourdeathinthedarkwatersbelow.Forthelasttime,willyouwritethatletter?”
I’mnotbraverthanmostmen.IadmitfranklythatIwasscaredtodeath,andinabluefunk.ThatChinesedevilmeantbusiness,Iwassureofthat.Itwasgoodbyetothegoodoldworld.Inspiteofmyself,myvoicewobbledalittleasIanswered.
“Forthelasttime,no!Tohellwithyourletter!”
TheninvoluntarilyIclosedmyeyesandbreathedashortprayer.
Thirteen
THEMOUSEWALKSIN
Notofteninalifetimedoesamanstandontheedgeofeternity,butwhenIspokethosewordsinthatEastEndcellarIwasperfectlycertainthattheyweremylastwordsonearth.Ibracedmyselffortheshockofthoseblack,rushingwatersbeneath,andexperiencedinadvancethehorrorofthatbreath-chokingfall.
Buttomysurprisealowlaughfellonmyears.Iopenedmyeyes.Obeyingasignfromthemanonthedivan,mytwojailersbroughtmebacktomyoldseatfacinghim.
“Youareabraveman,CaptainHastings,”hesaid.“WeoftheEastappreciatebravery.ImaysaythatIexpectedyoutoactasyouhavedone.Thatbringsustotheappointedsecondactofyourlittledrama.Deathforyourselfyouhavefaced—willyoufacedeathforanother?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iaskedhoarsely,ahorriblefearcreepingoverme.
“Surelyyouhavenotforgottentheladywhoisinourpower—theRoseoftheGarden.”
Istaredathimindumbagony.
“Ithink,CaptainHastings,thatyouwillwritethatletter.See,Ihaveacableformhere.ThemessageIshallwriteonitdependsonyou,andmeanslifeordeathforyourwife.”
Thesweatbrokeoutonmybrow.Mytormentorcontinued,smilingamiably,andspeakingwithperfectsangfroid:
“There,captain,thepenisreadytoyourhand.Youhaveonlytowrite.Ifnot—”
“Ifnot?”Iechoed.
“Ifnot,thatladythatyoulovedies—anddiesslowly.Mymaster,LiChangYen,amuseshimselfinhissparehoursbydevisingnewandingeniousmethodsoftorture—”
“MyGod!”Icried.“Youfiend!Notthat—youwouldn’tdothat—”
“ShallIrecounttoyousomeofhisdevices?”
Withoutheedingmycryofprotest,hisspeechflowedon—evenly,serenely—tillwithacryofhorrorIclappedmyhandstomyears.
“Itisenough,Isee.Takeupthepenandwrite.”
“Youwouldnotdare—”
“Yourspeechisfoolishness,andyouknowit.Takeupthepenandwrite.”
“IfIdo?”
“Yourwifegoesfree.Thecableshallbedespatchedimmediately.”
“HowdoIknowthatyouwillkeepfaithwithme?”
“Iswearittoyouonthesacredtombsofmyancestors.Moreover,judgeforyourself—whyshouldIwishtodoherharm?Herdetentionwillhaveanswereditspurpose.”
“And—andPoirot?”
“Wewillkeephiminsafecustodyuntilwehaveconcludedouroperations.Thenwewilllethimgo.”
“Willyouswearthatalsoonthetombsofyourancestors?”
“Ihaveswornoneoathtoyou.Thatshouldbesufficient.”
Myheartsank.Iwasbetrayingmyfriend—towhat?ForamomentIhesitated—thentheterriblealternativeroselikeanightmarebeforemyeyes.Cinderella—inthehandsoftheseChinesedevils,dyingbyslowtorture—
Agroanrosetomylips.Iseizedthepen.PerhapsbycarefulwordingoftheletterIcouldconveyawarning,andPoirotwouldbeenabledtoavoidthetrap.Itwastheonlyhope.
Buteventhathopewasnottoremain.TheChinaman’svoicerose,suaveandcourteous.
“Permitmetodictatetoyou.”
Hepaused,consultedasheafofnotesthatlaybyhisside,andthendictatedasfollows:
DearPoirot,IthinkI’monthetrackofNumberFour.AChinamancamethisafternoonandluredmedownherewithabogusmessage.LuckilyIsawthroughhislittlegameintime,andgavehimtheslip.ThenIturnedthetablesonhim,andmanagedtodoabitofshadowingonmyownaccount—ratherneatlytoo,Iflattermyself.I’mgettingabrightyoungladtocarrythistoyou.Givehimhalfacrown,willyou?That’swhatIpromisedhimifitwasdeliveredsafely.I’mwatchingthehouse,anddaren’tleave.Ishallwaitforyouuntilsixo’clock,andifyouhaven’tcomethen,I’llhaveatryatgettingintothehouseonmyown.It’stoogoodachancetomiss,and,ofcourse,theboymightn’tfindyou.Butifhedoes,gethimtobringyoudownhererightaway.Andcoverupthosepreciousmoustachesofyoursincaseanyone’swatchingoutfromthehouseandmightrecognizeyou.Yoursinhaste,A.H.
EverywordthatIwroteplungedmedeeperindespair.Thethingwasdiabolicallyclever.Irealizedhowcloselyeverydetailofourlifemustbeknown.ItwasjustsuchanepistleasImighthavepennedmyself.TheacknowledgementthattheChinamanwhohadcalledthatafternoonhadendeavouredto“luremeaway”discountedanygoodImighthavedonebyleavingmy“sign”offourbooks.Ithadbeenatrap,andIhadseenthroughit,thatwaswhatPoirotwouldthink.Thetime,too,wascleverlyplanned.Poirot,onreceivingthenote,wouldhavejusttimetorushoffwithhisinnocent-lookingguide,andthathewoulddosoIknew.Mydeterminationtomakemywayintothehousewouldbringhimposthaste.Healwaysdisplayedaridiculousdistrustofmycapacities.HewouldbeconvincedthatIwasrunningintodangerwithoutbeingequaltothesituation,andwouldrushdowntotakecommandofthesituation.
Buttherewasnothingtobedone.Iwroteasbidden.Mycaptortookthenotefromme,readit,thennoddedhisheadapprovinglyandhandedittooneofthesilentattendantswhodisappearedwithitbehindoneofthesilkenhangingsonthewallwhichmaskedadoorway.
Withasmilethemanoppositemepickedupacableformandwrote.Hehandedittome.
Itread:“Releasethewhitebirdwithalldespatch.”
Igaveasighofrelief.
“Youwillsenditatonce?”Iurged.
Hesmiled,andshookhishead.
“WhenM.HerculePoirotisinmyhandsitshallbesent.Notuntilthen.”
“Butyoupromised—”
“Ifthisdevicefails,Imayhaveneedofourwhitebird—topersuadeyoutofurtherefforts.”
Igrewwhitewithanger.
“MyGod!Ifyou—”
Hewavedalong,slimyellowhand.
“Bereassured,Idonotthinkitwillfail.AndthemomentM.Poirotisinourhands,Iwillkeepmyoath.”
“Ifyouplaymefalse—”
“Ihaveswornitbymyhonouredancestors.Havenofear.Resthereawhile.MyservantswillseetoyourneedswhilstIamabsent.”
Iwasleftaloneinthisstrangeundergroundnestofluxury.ThesecondChineseattendanthadreappeared.Oneofthembroughtfoodanddrinkandofferedittome,butIwavedthemaside.Iwassick—sick—atheart—
Andthensuddenlythemasterreappeared,tallandstatelyinhissilkenrobes.Hedirectedoperations.ByhisordersIwashustledbackthroughthecellarandtunnelintotheoriginalhouseIhadentered.Theretheytookmeintoaground-floorroom.Thewindowswereshuttered,butonecouldseethroughthecracksintothestreet.Anoldraggedmanwasshufflingalongtheoppositesideoftheroad,andwhenIsawhimmakeasigntothewindow,Iunderstoodthathewasoneofthegangonwatch.
“Itiswell,”saidmyChinesefriend.“HerculePoirothasfallenintothetrap.Heapproachesnow—andaloneexceptfortheboywhoguideshim.Now,CaptainHastings,youhavestillonemoreparttoplay.Unlessyoushowyourselfhewillnotenterthehouse.Whenhearrivesopposite,youmustgooutonthestepandbeckonhimin.”
“What?”Icried,revolted.
“Youplaythatpartalone.Rememberthepriceoffailure.IfHerculePoirotsuspectsanythingisamissanddoesnotenterthehouse,yourwifediesbytheSeventyLingeringDeaths!Ah!Hereheis.”
Withabeatingheart,andafeelingofdeathlysickness,Ilookedthroughthecrackintheshutters.InthefigurewalkingalongtheoppositesideofthestreetIrecognizedmyfriendatonce,thoughhiscoatcollarwasturnedupandanimmenseyellowmufflerhidthebottompartofhisface.Buttherewasnomistakingthatwalk,andtheposeofthategg-shapedhead.
ItwasPoirotcomingtomyaidinallgoodfaith,suspectingnothingamiss.ByhissideranatypicalLondonurchin,grimyoffaceandraggedofapparel.
Poirotpaused,lookingacrossatthehouse,whilsttheboyspoketohimeagerlyandpointed.Itwasthetimeformetoact.Iwentoutintothehall.AtasignfromthetallChinaman,oneoftheservantsunlatchedthedoor.
“Rememberthepriceoffailure,”saidmyenemyinalowvoice.
Iwasoutsideonthesteps.IbeckonedtoPoirot.Hehastenedacross.
“Aha!Soalliswellwithyou,myfriend.Iwasbeginningtobeanxious.Youmanagedtogetinside?Isthehouseempty,then?”
“Yes,”Isaid,inalowvoiceIstrovetomakenatural.“Theremustbeasecretwayoutofitsomewhere.Comeinandletuslookforit.”
Isteppedbackacrossthethreshold.InallinnocencePoirotpreparedtofollowme.
Andthensomethingseemedtosnapinmyhead.IsawonlytooclearlythepartIwasplaying—thepartofJudas.
“Back,Poirot!”Icried.“Backforyourlife.It’satrap.Nevermindme.Getawayatonce.”
EvenasIspoke—orrathershoutedmywarning,handsgrippedmelikeavice.OneoftheChineseservantssprangpastmetograbPoirot.
Isawthelatterspringback,hisarmraised,thensuddenlyadensevolumeofsmokewasrisingroundme,chokingme—killingme—
Ifeltmyselffalling—suffocating—thiswasdeath—
Icametomyselfslowlyandpainfully—allmysensesdazed.ThefirstthingIsawwasPoirot’sface.Hewassittingoppositemewatchingmewithananxiousface.Hegaveacryofjoywhenhesawmelookingathim.
“Ah,yourevive—youreturntoyourself.Alliswell!Myfriend—mypoorfriend!”
“WhereamI?”Isaidpainfully.
“Where?Butchezvous!”
Ilookedroundme.Trueenough,Iwasintheoldfamiliarsurroundings.AndinthegrateweretheidenticalfourknobsofcoalIhadcarefullyspiltthere.
Poirothadfollowedmyglance.
“Butyes,thatwasafamousideaofyours—thatandthebooks.Seeyou,iftheyshouldsaytomeanytime,‘Thatfriendofyours,thatHastings,hehasnotthegreatbrain,isitnotso?’Ishallreplytothem:‘Youareinerror.’Itwasanideamagnificentandsuperbthatoccurredtoyouthere.”
“Youunderstoodtheirmeaningthen?”
“AmIanimbecile?OfcourseIunderstood.ItgavemejustthewarningIneeded,andthetimetomaturemyplans.SomehoworothertheBigFourhadcarriedyouoff.Withwhatobject?Clearlynotforyourbeauxyeux—equallyclearlynotbecausetheyfearedyouandwantedtogetyououtoftheway.No,theirobjectwasplain.YouwouldbeusedasadecoytogetthegreatHerculePoirotintotheirclutches.Ihavelongbeenpreparedforsomethingofthekind.Imakemylittlepreparations,andpresently,sureenough,themessengerarrives—suchaninnocentlittlestreeturchin.Me,Iswalloweverything,andhastenawaywithhim,and,veryfortunately,theypermityoutocomeoutonthedoorstep.Thatwasmyonefear,thatIshouldhavetodisposeofthembeforeIhadreachedtheplacewhereyouwereconcealed,andthatIshouldhavetosearchforyou—perhapsinvain—afterwards.”
“Disposeofthem,didyousay?”Iaskedfeebly.“Singlehanded.”
“Oh,thereisnothingverycleveraboutthat.Ifoneispreparedinadvance,allissimple—themottooftheBoyScout,isitnot?Andaveryfineone.Me,Iwasprepared.Notsolongago,Irenderedaservicetoaveryfamouschemist,whodidalotofworkinconnectionwithpoisongasduringthewar.Hedevisedformealittlebomb—simpleandeasytocarryabout—onehasbuttothrowitandpoof,thesmoke—andthentheunconsciousness.ImmediatelyIblowalittlewhistleandstraightwaysomeofJapp’scleverfellowswhowerewatchingthehouseherelongbeforetheboyarrived,andwhomanagedtofollowusallthewaytoLimehouse,cameflyingupandtookchargeofthesituation.”
“Buthowwasityouweren’tunconscioustoo?”
“Anotherpieceofluck.OurfriendNumberFour(whocertainlycomposedthatingeniousletter)permittedhimselfalittlejestatmymoustaches,whichrendereditextremelyeasyformetoadjustmyrespiratorundertheguiseofayellowmuffler.”
“Iremember,”Icriedeagerly,andthenwiththeword“remember”alltheghastlyhorrorthatIhadtemporarilyforgottencamebacktome.Cinderella—
Ifellbackwithagroan.
Imusthavelostconsciousnessagainforaminuteortwo.IawoketofindPoirotforcingsomebrandybetweenmylips.
“Whatisit,monami?Butwhatisit—then?Tellme.”Wordbyword,Igotthethingtold,shudderingasIdidso.Poirotutteredacry.
“Myfriend!Myfriend!Butwhatyoumusthavesuffered!AndIwhoknewnothingofallthis!Butreassureyourself!Alliswell!”
“Youwillfindher,youmean?ButsheisinSouthAmerica.Andbythetimewegetthere—longbefore,shewillbedead—andGodknowshowandinwhathorriblewayshewillhavedied.”
“No,no,youdonotunderstand.Sheissafeandwell.Shehasneverbeenintheirhandsforoneinstant.”
“ButIgotacablefromBronsen?”
“No,no,youdidnot.YoumayhavegotacablefromSouthAmericasignedBronsen—thatisaverydifferentmatter.Tellme,hasitneveroccurredtoyouthatanorganizationofthiskind,withramificationsallovertheworld,mighteasilystrikeatusthroughthelittlegirl,Cinderella,whomyoulovesowell?”
“No,never,”Ireplied.
“Well,itdidtome.IsaidnothingtoyoubecauseIdidnotwanttoupsetyouunnecessarily—butItookmeasuresofmyown.Yourwife’slettersallseemtohavebeenwrittenfromtheranch,butinrealityshehasbeeninaplaceofsafetydevisedbymeforoverthreemonths.”
Ilookedathimforalongtime.
“Youaresureofthat?”
“Parbleu!Iknowit.Theytorturedyouwithalie!”
Iturnedmyheadaside.Poirotputhishandonmyshoulder.TherewassomethinginhisvoicethatIhadneverheardtherebefore.
“YoulikenotthatIshouldembraceyouordisplaytheemotion,Iknowwell.IwillbeveryBritish.Iwillsaynothing—butnothingatall.Onlythis—thatinthislastadventureofours,thehonoursareallwithyou,andhappyisthemanwhohassuchafriendasIhave!”
Fourteen
THEPEROXIDEBLONDE
IwasverydisappointedwiththeresultsofPoirot’sbombattackonthepremisesinChinatown.Tobeginwith,theleaderoftheganghadescaped.WhenJapp’smenrushedupinresponsetoPoirot’swhistletheyfoundfourChinamenunconsciousinthehall,butthemanwhohadthreatenedmewithdeathwasnotamongthem.IrememberedafterwardsthatwhenIwasforcedoutontothedoorstep,todecoyPoirotintothehouse,thismanhadkeptwellinthebackground.Presumablyhewasoutofthedangerzoneofthegasbomb,andmadegoodhisescapebyoneofthemanyexitswhichweafterwardsdiscovered.
Fromthefourwhoremainedinourhandswelearntnothing.ThefullestinvestigationbythepolicefailedtobringtolightanythingtoconnectthemwiththeBigFour.Theywereordinarylow-classresidentsofthedistrict,andtheyprofessedblandignoranceofthenameLiChangYen.AChinesegentlemanhadhiredthemforserviceinthehousebythewaterside,andtheyknewnothingwhateverofhisprivateaffairs.
BythenextdayIhad,exceptforaslightheadache,completelyrecoveredfromtheeffectsofPoirot’sgasbomb.WewentdowntogethertoChinatownandsearchedthehousefromwhichIhadbeenrescued.Thepremisesconsistedoftworamshacklehousesjoinedtogetherbyanundergroundpassage.Thegroundfloorsandtheupperstoriesofeachwereunfurnishedanddeserted,thebrokenwindowscoveredbydecayingshutters.Japphadalreadybeenpryingaboutinthecellars,andhaddiscoveredthesecretoftheentrancetothesubterraneanchamberwhereIhadspentsuchanunpleasanthalfhour.Closerinvestigationconfirmedtheimpressionthatithadmadeonmethenightbefore.Thesilksonthewallsanddivanandthecarpetsonthefloorwereofexquisiteworkmanship.AlthoughIknowverylittleaboutChineseart,Icouldappreciatethateveryarticleintheroomwasperfectofitskind.
WiththeaidofJappandsomeofhismenweconductedamostthoroughsearchoftheapartment.Ihadcherishedhighhopesthatwewouldfinddocumentsofimportance.Alist,perhaps,ofsomeofthemoreimportantagentsoftheBigFour,orciphernotesofsomeoftheirplans,butwediscoverednothingofthekind.TheonlypaperswefoundinthewholeplacewerethenoteswhichtheChinamanhadconsultedwhilsthewasdictatingthelettertoPoirot.Theseconsistedofaverycompleterecordofeachofourcareers,anestimateofourcharacters,andsuggestionsabouttheweaknessesthroughwhichwemightbestbeattacked.
Poirotwasmostchildishlydelightedwiththisdiscovery.PersonallyIcouldnotseethatitwasofanyvaluewhatever,especiallyaswhoevercompiledthenoteswasludicrouslymistakeninsomeofhisopinions.Ipointedthisouttomyfriendwhenwewerebackinourrooms
“MydearPoirot,”Isaid,“youknownowwhattheenemythinksofus.Heappearstohaveagrosslyexaggeratedideaofyourbrainpower,andtohaveabsurdlyunderratedmine,butIdonotseehowwearebetteroffforknowingthis.”
Poirotchuckledinratheranoffensiveway.
“Youdonotsee,Hastings,no?Butsurelynowwecanprepareourselvesforsomeoftheirmethodsofattacknowthatwearewarnedofsomeofourfaults.Forinstance,myfriend,weknowthatyoushouldthinkbeforeyouact.Again,ifyoumeetared-hairedyoungwomanintroubleyoushouldeyeher—whatyousay—askance,isitnot?”
Theirnoteshadcontainedsomeabsurdreferencestomysupposedimpulsiveness,andhadsuggestedthatIwassusceptibletothecharmsofyoungwomenwithhairofacertainshade.IthoughtPoirot’sreferencetobeintheworstoftaste,butfortunatelyIwasabletocounterhim.
“Andwhataboutyou?”Idemanded.“Areyougoingtotrytocureyour‘overweeningvanity?’Your‘finickytidiness?’”
Iwasquoting,andIcouldseethathewasnotpleasedwithmyretort.
“Oh,withoutdoubt,Hastings,insomethingstheydeceivethemselves—tantmieux!Theywilllearninduetime.Meanwhilewehavelearntsomething,andtoknowistobeprepared.”
Thislastwasafavouriteaxiomofhislately;somuchsothatIhadbeguntohatethesoundofit.
“Weknowsomething,Hastings,”hecontinued.“Yes,weknowsomething—andthatistothegood—butwedonotknownearlyenough.Wemustknowmore.”
“Inwhatway?”
Poirotsettledhimselfbackinhischair,straightenedaboxofmatcheswhichIhadthrowncarelesslydownonthetable,andassumedanattitudethatIknewonlytoowell.Isawthathewaspreparedtoholdforthatsomelength.
“Seeyou,Hastings,wehavetocontendagainstfouradversaries,thatisagainstfourdifferentpersonalities.WithNumberOnewehavenevercomeintopersonalcontact—weknowhim,asitwere,onlybytheimpressofhismind—andinpassing,Hastings,IwilltellyouthatIbegintounderstandthatmindverywell—amindmostsubtleandOriental—everyschemeandplotthatwehaveencounteredhasemanatedfromthebrainofLiChangYen.NumberTwoandNumberThreearesopowerful,sohighup,thattheyareforthepresentimmunefromourattacks.Neverthelesswhatistheirsafeguardis,byaperversechance,oursafeguardalso.Theyaresomuchinthelimelightthattheirmovementsmustbecarefullyordered.Andsowecometothelastmemberofthegang—wecometothemanknownasNumberFour.”
Poirot’svoicealteredalittle,asitalwaysdidwhenspeakingofthisparticularindividual.
“NumberTwoandNumberThreeareabletosucceed,togoontheirwayunscathed,owingtotheirnotorietyandtheirassuredposition.NumberFoursucceedsfortheoppositereason—hesucceedsbythewayofobscurity.Whoishe?Nobodyknows.Whatdoeshelooklike?Againnobodyknows.Howmanytimeshaveweseenhim,youandI?Fivetimes,isitnot?Andcouldeitherofussaytruthfullythatwecouldbesureofrecognizinghimagain?”
Iwasforcedtoshakemyhead,asIranbackinmymindoverthosefivedifferentpeoplewho,incredibleasitseemed,wereoneandthesameman.Theburlylunaticasylumkeeper,themaninthebuttoned-upovercoatinParis,James,thefootman,thequietyoungmedicalmanintheYellowJasminecase,andtheRussianprofessor.Innowaydidanytwoofthesepeopleresembleeachother
“No,”Isaidhopelessly.“We’venothingtogobywhatsoever.”
Poirotsmiled.
“Donot,Iprayofyou,givewaytosuchenthusiasticdespair.Weknowoneortwothings.”
“Whatkindofthings?”Iaskedsceptically.
“Weknowthatheisamanofmediumheight,andofmediumorfaircolouring.Ifhewereatallmanofswarthycomplexionhecouldneverhavepassedhimselfoffasthefair,stockydoctor.Itischild’splay,ofcourse,toputonanadditionalinchorsoforthepartofJames,ortheProfessor.Inthesamewayhemusthaveashort,straightnose.Additionscanbebuiltontoanosebyskilfulmakeup,butalargenosecannotbesuccessfullyreducedatamoment’snotice.Thenagain,hemustbeafairlyyoungman,certainlynotoverthirty-five.Yousee,wearegettingsomewhere.Amanbetweenthirtyandthirty-five,ofmediumheightandcolouring,anadeptintheartofmakeup,andwithveryfeworanyteethofhisown.”
“What?”
“Surely,Hastings.Asthekeeper,histeethwerebrokenanddiscoloured,inParistheywereevenandwhite,asadoctortheyprotrudedslightly,andasSavaranofftheyhadunusuallylongcanines.Nothingaltersthefacesocompletelyasadifferentsetofteeth.Youseewhereallthisisleadingus?”
“Notexactly,”Isaidcautiously.
“Amancarrieshisprofessionwritteninhisface,theysay.”
“He’sacriminal,”Icried.
“Heisanadeptintheartofmaking-up.”
“It’sthesamething.”
“Ratherasweepingstatement,Hastings,andonewhichwouldhardlybeappreciatedbythetheatricalworld.Doyounotseethatthemanis,orhasbeen,atonetimeoranother,anactor?”
“Anactor?”
“Butcertainly.Hehasthewholetechniqueathisfingertips.Nowtherearetwoclassesofactors,theonewhosinkshimselfinhispart,andtheonewhomanagestoimpresshispersonalityuponit.Itisfromthelatterclassthatactor-managersusuallyspring.Theyseizeapartandmouldittotheirownpersonality.TheformerclassisquitelikelytospenditsdaysdoingMr.LloydGeorgeatdifferentmusichalls,orimpersonatingoldmenwithbeardsinrepertoryplays.ItisamongthatformerclassthatwemustlookforourNumberFour.Heisasupremeartistinthewayhesinkshimselfineachpartheplays.”
Iwasgrowinginterested.
“Soyoufancyyoumaybeabletotracehisidentitythroughhisconnectionwiththestage?”
“Yourreasoningisalwaysbrilliant,Hastings.”
“Itmighthavebeenbetter,”Isaidcoldly,“iftheideahadcometoyousooner.Wehavewastedalotoftime.”
“Youareinerror,monami.Nomoretimehasbeenwastedthanwasunavoidable.Forsomemonthsnowmyagentshavebeenengagedonthetask.JosephAaronsisoneofthem.Yourememberhim?Theyhavecompiledalistformeofmenfulfillingthenecessaryqualifications—youngmenroundabouttheageofthirty,ofmoreorlessnondescriptappearance,andwithagiftforplayingcharacterparts—men,moreover,whohavedefinitelyleftthestagewithinthelastthreeyears.”
“Well?”Isaid,deeplyinterested.
“Thelistwas,necessarily,ratheralongone.Forsometimenow,wehavebeenengagedonthetaskofelimination.Andfinallywehaveboiledthewholethingdowntofournames.Heretheyare,myfriend.”
Hetossedmeoverasheetofpaper.Ireaditscontentsaloud.
“ErnestLuttrell.SonofaNorthCountryparson.Alwayshadakinkofsomekindinhismoralmakeup.Wasexpelledfromhispublicschool.Wentonthestageattheageoftwenty-three.(Thenfollowedalistofpartshehadplayed,withdatesandplaces.)Addictedtodrugs.SupposedtohavegonetoAustraliafouryearsago.CannotbetracedafterleavingEngland.Age32,height5ft.10?in.,clean-shaven,hairbrown,nosestraight,complexionfair,eyesgrey.
“JohnSt.Maur.Assumedname.Realnamenotknown.Believedtobeofcockneyextraction.Onstagesincequiteachild.Didmusichallimpersonations.Notbeenheardofforthreeyears.Age,about33,height5ft.10in.,slimbuild,blueeyes,faircolouring.
“AustenLee.Assumedname.RealnameAustenFoly.Goodfamily.AlwayshadtasteforactinganddistinguishedhimselfinthatwayatOxford.Brilliantwarrecord.Actedin—(Theusuallistfollowed.Itincludedmanyrepertoryplays.)Anenthusiastoncriminology.Hadbadnervousbreakdownastheresultofamotoraccidentthreeandahalfyearsago,
“ClaudDarrell.Supposedtoberealname.Somemysteryabouthisorigin.Playedatmusichalls,andalsoinrepertoryplays.Seemstohavehadnointimatefriends.WasinChinain1919.ReturnedbywayofAmerica.PlayedafewpartsinNewYork.Didnotappearonstageonenight,andhasneverbeenheardofsince.NewYorkpolicesaymostmysteriousdisappearance.Ageabout33,hairbrown,faircomplexion,greyeyes.Height5ft.10?in.”
“Mostinteresting,”Isaid,asIlaiddownthepaper.“Andsothisistheresultoftheinvestigationofmonths?Thesefournames.Whichofthemareyouinclinedtosuspect?”
Poirotmadeaneloquentgesture.
“Monami,forthemomentitisanopenquestion.IwouldjustpointouttoyouthatClaudDarrellhasbeeninChinaandAmerica—afactnotwithoutsignificance,perhaps,butwemustnotallowourselvestobeundulybiasedbythatpoint.Itmaybeamerecoincidence.”
“Andthenextstep?”Iaskedeagerly.
“Affairsarealreadyintrain.Everydaycautiouslywordedadvertisementswillappear.Friendsandrelativesofoneortheotherwillbeaskedtocommunicatewithmysolicitorathisoffice.Eventodaywemight—Aha,thetelephone!Probablyitis,asusual,thewrongnumber,andtheywillregrettohavetroubledus,butitmaybe—yes,itmaybe—thatsomethinghasarisen.”
Icrossedtheroomandpickedupthereceiver.
“Yes,yes.M.Poirot’srooms.Yes,CaptainHastingsspeaking.Oh,it’syou,Mr.McNeil!(McNeilandHodgsonwerePoirot’ssolicitors.)I’lltellhim.Yes,we’llcomeroundatonce.”
IreplacedthereceiverandturnedtoPoirot,myeyesdancingwithexcitement.
“Isay,Poirot,there’sawomanthere.FriendofClaudDarrell’s.MissFlossieMonro.McNeilwantsyoutocomeround.”
“Attheinstant!”criedPoirot,disappearingintohisbedroom,andreappearingwithahat.
Ataxisoontookustoourdestination,andwewereusheredintoMr.McNeil’sprivateoffice.Sittinginthearmchairfacingthesolicitorwasasomewhatlurid-lookingladynolongerinherfirstyouth.Herhairwasofanimpossibleyellow,andwasprolificincurlsovereachear,hereyelidswereheavilyblackened,andshehadbynomeansforgottentherougeandthelipsalve.
“Ah,hereisM.Poirot!”saidMr.McNeil.“M.Poirot,thisisMiss—er—Monro,whohasverykindlycalledtogiveussomeinformation.”
“Ah,butthatismostkind!”criedPoirot.
Hecameforwardwithgreatempressement,andshooktheladywarmlybythehand.
“Mademoisellebloomslikeaflowerinthisdry-as-dustoldoffice,”headded,carelessofthefeelingsofMr.McNeil.
Thisoutrageousflatterywasnotwithouteffect.MissMonroblushedandsimpered.
“Oh,goonnow,Mr.Poirot!”sheexclaimed.“IknowwhatyouFrenchmenarelike.”
“Mademoiselle,wearenotmutelikeEnglishmenbeforebeauty.NotthatIamaFrenchman—IamaBelgian,yousee.”
“I’vebeentoOstendmyself,”saidMissMonro.
Thewholeaffair,asPoirotwouldhavesaid,wasmarchingsplendidly.
“AndsoyoucantellussomethingaboutMr.ClaudDarrell?”continuedPoirot
“IknewMr.Darrellverywellatonetime,”explainedthelady.“AndIsawyouradvertisement,beingoutofashopforthemoment,and,mytimebeingmyown,Isaidtomyself:There,theywanttoknowaboutpooroldClaudie—lawyers,too—maybeit’safortunelookingfortherightfulheir.I’dbettergoroundatonce.”
Mr.McNeilrose.
“Well,MonsieurPoirot,shallIleaveyouforalittleconversationwithMissMonro?”
“Youaretooamiable.Butstay—alittleideapresentsitselftome.Thehourofthedéjeunerapproaches.Mademoisellewillperhapshonourmebycomingouttoluncheonwithme?”
MissMonro’seyesglistened.Itstruckmethatshewasinexceedinglylowwater,andthatthechanceofasquaremealwasnottobedespised.
Afewminuteslatersawusallinataxi,boundforoneofLondon’smostexpensiverestaurants.Oncearrivedthere,Poirotorderedamostdelectablelunch,andthenturnedtohisguest.
“Andforwine,mademoiselle?Whatdoyousaytochampagne?”
MissMonrosaidnothing—oreverything.
Themealstartedpleasantly.Poirotreplenishedthelady’sglasswiththoughtfulassiduity,andgraduallyslidontothetopicnearesthisheart.
“ThepoorMr.Darrell.Whatapityheisnotwithus.”
“Yes,indeed,”sighedMissMonro.“Poorboy,Idowonderwhat’sbecomeofhim.”
“Isitalongtimesinceyouhaveseenhim,yes?”
“Oh,simplyages—notsincethewar.Hewasafunnyboy,Claudie,verycloseaboutthings,nevertoldyouawordabouthimself.But,ofcourse,thatallfitsinifhe’samissingheir.Isitatitle,Mr.Poirot?”
“Alas,amereheritage,”saidPoirotunblushingly.“Butyousee,itmaybeaquestionofidentification.Thatiswhyitisnecessaryforustofindsomeonewhoknewhimverywellindeed.Youknewhimverywell,didyounot,mademoiselle?”
“Idon’tmindtellingyou,Mr.Poirot.You’reagentleman.Youknowhowtoorderalunchforalady—whichismorethansomeoftheseyoungwhippersnappersdonowadays.Downrightmean,Icallit.AsIwassaying,youbeingaFrenchmanwon’tbeshocked.Ah,youFrenchmen!Naughty,naughty!”Shewaggedherfingerathiminanexcessofarchness.“Well,thereitwas,meandClaudie,twoyoungthings—whatelsecouldyouexpect?AndI’vestillakindlyfeelingforhim.Though,mindyou,hedidn’ttreatmewell—no,hedidn’t—hedidn’ttreatmewellatall.Notasaladyshouldbetreated.They’reallthesamewhenitcomestoaquestionofmoney.”
“No,no,mademoiselle,donotsaythat,”protestedPoirot,fillingupherglassoncemore.“CouldyounowdescribethisMr.Darrelltome?”
“Hewasn’tanythingsoverymuchtolookat,”saidFlossieMonrodreamily.“Neithertallnorshort,youknow,butquitewellsetup.Sprucelooking.Eyesasortofblue-grey.Andmoreorlessfair-haired,Isuppose.Butoh,whatanartist!Ineversawanyonetotouchhimintheprofession!He’dhavemadehisnamebeforenowifithadn’tbeenforjealousy.Ah,Mr.Poirot,jealousy—youwouldn’tbelieveit,youreallywouldn’t,whatweartistshavetosufferthroughjealousy.Why,IrememberonceatManchester—”
Wedisplayedwhatpatiencewecouldinlisteningtoalongcomplicatedstoryaboutapantomime,andtheinfamousconductoftheprincipalboy.ThenPoirotledhergentlybacktothesubjectofClaudDarrell.
“Itisveryinteresting,allthisthatyouareabletotellus,mademoiselle,aboutMr.Darrell.Womenaresuchwonderfulobservers—theyseeeverything,theynoticethelittledetailthatescapesthemereman.Ihaveseenawomanidentifyonemanoutofadozenothers—andwhy,doyouthink?Shehadobservedthathehadatrickofstrokinghisnosewhenhewasagitated.Nowwouldamaneverhavethoughtofnoticingathinglikethat?”
“Didyouever!”criedMissMonro.“Isupposewedonoticethings.IrememberClaudie,nowIcometothinkofit,alwaysfiddlingwithhisbreadattable.He’dgetalittlepiecebetweenhisfingersandthendabitroundtopickupcrumbs.I’veseenhimdoitahundredtimes.Why,I’dknowhimanywherebythatonetrickofhis.”
“IsnotthatjustwhatIsay?Themarvellousobservationofawoman.Anddidyoueverspeaktohimaboutthislittlehabitofhis,mademoiselle?”
“No,Ididn’t,Mr.Poirot.Youknowwhatmenare!Theydon’tlikeyoutonoticethings—especiallyifitshouldseemyouweretellingthemoffaboutit.Ineversaidaword—butmany’sthetimeIsmiledtomyself.Blessyou,heneverknewhewasdoingiteven.”
Poirotnoddedgently.Inoticedthathisownhandwasshakingalittleashestretcheditouttohisglass.
“Thenthereisalwayshandwritingasameansofestablishingidentity,”heremarked.“WithoutdoubtyouhavepreservedaletterwrittenbyMr.Darrell?”
FlossieMonroshookherheadregretfully.
“Hewasneveroneforwriting.Neverwrotemealineinhislife.”
“Thatisapity,”saidPoirot.
“Itellyouwhat,though,”saidMissMonrosuddenly.“I’vegotaphotographifthatwouldbeanygood?”
“Youhaveaphotograph?”
Poirotalmostsprangfromhisseatwithexcitement.
“It’squiteanoldone—eightyearsoldatleast.”
“?anefaitrien!Nomatterhowoldandfaded!Ah,mafoi,butwhatstupendousluck!Youwillpermitmetoinspectthatphotograph,mademoiselle?”
“Why,ofcourse.”
“Perhapsyouwillevenpermitmetohaveacopymade?Itwouldnottakelong.”
“Certainlyifyoulike.”
MissMonrorose.
“Well,Imustrunaway,”shedeclaredarchly.“Verygladtohavemetyouandyourfriend,Mr.Poirot.”
“Andthephotograph?WhenmayIhaveit?”
“I’lllookitouttonight.IthinkIknowwheretolaymyhandsuponit.AndI’llsendittoyourightaway.”
“Athousandthanks,mademoiselle.Youareallthatisofthemostamiable.Ihopethatweshallsoonbeabletoarrangeanotherlittlelunchtogether.”
“Assoonasyoulike,”saidMissMonro.“I’mwilling.”
“Letmesee,IdonotthinkthatIhaveyouraddress?”
Withagrandair,MissMonrodrewacardfromherhandbag,andhandedittohim.Itwasasomewhatdirtycard,andtheoriginaladdresshadbeenscratchedoutandanothersubstitutedinpencil.
Then,withagoodmanybowsandgesticulationsonPoirot’spart,webadefarewelltotheladyandgotaway.
“Doyoureallythinkthisphotographsoimportant?”IaskedPoirot.
“Yes,monami.Thecameradoesnotlie.Onecanmagnifyaphotograph,seizesalientpointsthatotherwisewouldremainunnoticed.Andthenthereareathousanddetails—suchasthestructureoftheears,whichnoonecouldeverdescribetoyouinwords.Oh,yes,itisagreatchance,this,whichhascomeourway!ThatiswhyIproposetotakeprecautions.”
Hewentacrosstothetelephoneashefinishedspeaking,andgaveanumberwhichIknewtobethatofaprivatedetectiveagencywhichhesometimesemployed.Hisinstructionswereclearanddefinite.Twomenweretogototheaddresshegave,and,ingeneralterms,weretowatchoverthesafetyofMissMonro.Theyweretofollowherwherevershewent.
Poirothungupthereceiverandcamebacktome.
“Doyoureallythinkthatnecessary,Poirot?”Iasked.
“Itmaybe.Thereisnodoubtthatwearewatched,youandI,andsincethatisso,theywillsoonknowwithwhomwewerelunchingtoday.AnditispossiblethatNumberFourwillscentdanger.”
Abouttwentyminuteslaterthetelephonebellrang.Iansweredit.Acurtvoicespokeintothephone.
“IsthatMr.Poirot?St.James’sHospitalspeaking.Ayoungwomanwasbroughtintenminutesago.Streetaccident.MissFlossieMonro.SheisaskingveryurgentlyforMr.Poirot.Buthemustcomeatonce.Shecan’tpossiblylastlong.”
IrepeatedthewordstoPoirot.Hisfacewentwhite.
“Quick,Hastings.Wemustgolikethewind.”
Ataxitookustothehospitalinlessthantenminutes.WeaskedforMissMonro,andweretakenimmediatelytotheAccidentWard.Butawhite-cappedsistermetusinthedoorway.
Poirotreadthenewsinherface.
“Itisover,eh?”
“Shediedsixminutesago.”
Poirotstoodasthoughstunned.
Thenurse,mistakinghisemotion,beganspeakinggently.
“Shedidnotsuffer,andshewasunconscioustowardsthelast.Shewasrunoverbyamotor,youknow—andthedriverofthecardidnotevenstop.Wicked,isn’tit?Ihopesomeonetookthenumber.”
“Thestarsfightagainstus,”saidPoirot,inalowvoice.
“Youwouldliketoseeher?”
Thenurseledtheway,andwefollowed.
PoorFlossieMonro,withherrougeandherdyedhair.Shelaythereverypeacefully,withalittlesmileonherlips.
“Yes,”murmuredPoirot.“Thestarsfightagainstus—butisitthestars?”Heliftedhisheadasthoughstruckbyasuddenidea.“Isitthestars,Hastings?Ifitisnot—ifitisnot…Oh,Isweartoyou,myfriend,standingherebythispoorwoman’sbody,thatIwillhavenomercywhenthetimecomes!”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iasked.
ButPoirothadturnedtothenurseandwaseagerlydemandinginformation.Alistofthearticlesfoundinherhandbagwasfinallyobtained.Poirotgaveasuppressedcryashereaditover.
“Yousee,Hastings,yousee?”
“Seewhat?”
“Thereisnomentionofalatchkey.Butshemusthavehadalatchkeywithher.No,shewasrundownincoldblood,andthefirstpersonwhobentoverhertookthekeyfromherbag.Butwemayyetbeintime.Hemaynothavebeenabletofindatoncewhathesought.”
AnothertaxitookustotheaddressFlossieMonrohadgivenus,asqualidblockofMansionsinanunsavouryneighbourhood.ItwassometimebeforewecouldgainadmissiontoMissMonro’sflat,butwehadatleastthesatisfactionofknowingthatnoonecouldleaveitwhilstwewereonguardoutside.
Eventuallywegotin.Itwasplainthatsomeonehadbeenbeforeus.Thecontentsofdrawersandcupboardswerestrewnalloverthefloor.Lockshadbeenforced,andsmalltableshadevenbeenoverthrown,soviolenthadbeenthesearcher’shaste.
Poirotbegantohuntthroughthedébris.Suddenlyhestooderectwithacry,holdingoutsomething.Itwasanold-fashionedphotographframe—empty.
Heturneditslowlyover.Affixedtothebackwasasmallroundlabel—apricelabel.
“Itcostfourshillings,”Icommented
“MonDieu!Hastings,useyoureyes.Thatisanewcleanlabel.Itwasstucktherebythemanwhotookoutthephotograph,themanwhowasherebeforeus,butknewthatweshouldcome,andsoleftthisforus—ClaudDarrell—aliasNumberFour.”
Fifteen
THETERRIBLECATASTROPHE
ItwasafterthetragicdeathofMissFlossieMonrothatIbegantobeawareofachangeinPoirot.Uptonow,hisinvincibleconfidenceinhimselfhadstoodthetest.Butitseemedasthough,atlast,thelongstrainwasbeginningtotell.Hismannerwasgraveandbrooding,andhisnerveswereonedge.Inthesedayshewasasjumpyasacat.HeavoidedalldiscussionoftheBigFourasfaraspossible,andseemedtothrowhimselfintohisordinaryworkwithalmosthisoldardour.Nevertheless,Iknewthathewassecretlyactiveinthebigmatter.Extraordinary-lookingSlavswereconstantlycallingtoseehim,andthoughhevouchsafednoexplanationastothesemysteriousactivities,Irealizedthathewasbuildingsomenewdefenceorweaponofoppositionwiththehelpofthesesomewhatrepulsive-lookingforeigners.Once,purelybychance,Ihappenedtoseetheentriesinhispassbook—hehadaskedmetoverifysomesmallitem—andInoticedthepayingoutofahugesum—ahugesumevenforPoirotwhowascoiningmoneynowadays—tosomeRussianwithapparentlyeveryletterofthealphabetinhisname.
Buthegavenoclueastothelineonwhichheproposedtooperate.Onlyoverandoveragainhegaveutterancetoonephrase.“Itisamistaketounderestimateyouradversary.Rememberthat,monami.”AndIrealizedthatthatwasthepitfallhewasstrivingatallcoststoavoid.
SomatterswentonuntiltheendofMarch,andthenonemorningPoirotmadearemarkwhichstartledmeconsiderably.
“Thismorning,myfriend,Ishouldrecommendthebestsuit.WegotocallupontheHomeSecretary.”
“Indeed?Thatisveryexciting.Hehascalledyouintotakeupacase?”
“Notexactly.Theinterviewisofmyseeking.YoumayremembermysayingthatIoncedidhimsomesmallservice?Heisinclinedtobefoolishlyenthusiasticovermycapabilitiesinconsequence,andIamabouttotradeonthisattitudeofhis.Asyouknow,theFrenchPremier,M.Desjardeaux,isoverinLondon,andatmyrequesttheHomeSecretaryhasarrangedforhimtobepresentatourlittleconferencethismorning.”
TheRightHonourableSydneyCrowther,HisMajesty’sSecretaryofStateforHomeAffairs,wasawell-knownandpopularfigure.Amanofsomefiftyyearsofage,withaquizzicalexpressionandshrewdgreyeyes,hereceiveduswiththatdelightfulbonhomieofmannerwhichwaswell-knowntobeoneofhisprincipalassets.
Standingwithhisbacktothefireplacewasatallthinmanwithapointedblackbeardandasensitiveface.
“M.Desjardeaux,”saidCrowther.“AllowmetointroducetoyouM.HerculePoirotofwhomyoumay,perhaps,alreadyhaveheard.”
TheFrenchmanbowedandshookhands.
“IhaveindeedheardofM.HerculePoirot,”hesaidpleasantly.“Whohasnot?”
“Youaretooamiable,monsieur,”saidPoirot,bowing,buthisfaceflushedwithpleasure.
“Anywordforanoldfriend?”askedaquietvoice,andamancameforwardfromacornerbyatallbookcase.
Itwasouroldacquaintance,Mr.Ingles
Poirotshookhimwarmlybythehand.
“Andnow,M.Poirot,”saidCrowther.“Weareatyourservice.Iunderstandyoutosaythatyouhadacommunicationoftheutmostimportancetomaketous.”
“Thatisso,monsieur.Thereisintheworldtodayavastorganization—anorganizationofcrime.Itiscontrolledbyfourindividuals,whoareknownandspokenofastheBigFour.NumberOneisaChinaman,LiChangYen;NumberTwoistheAmericanmultimillionaire,AbeRyland;NumberThreeisaFrenchwoman;NumberFourIhaveeveryreasontobelieveisanobscureEnglishactorcalledClaudDarrell.Thesefourarebandedtogethertodestroytheexistingsocialorder,andtoreplaceitwithananarchyinwhichtheywouldreignasdictators.”
“Incredible,”mutteredtheFrenchman.“Ryland,mixedupwithathingofthatkind?Surelytheideaistoofantastic.”
“Listen,monsieur,whilstIrecounttoyousomeofthedoingsofthisBigFour.”
ItwasanenthrallingnarrativewhichPoirotunfolded.FamiliarasIwaswithallthedetails,theythrilledmeanewasIheardthebaldrecitalofouradventuresandescapes.
M.DesjardeauxlookedmutelyatMr.CrowtherasPoirotfinished.Theotheransweredthelook.
“Yes,M.Desjardeaux,Ithinkwemustadmittheexistenceofa‘BigFour.’ScotlandYardwasinclinedtojeeratfirst,buttheyhavebeenforcedtoadmitthatM.Poirotwasrightinmanyofhisclaims.IcannotbutfeelthatM.Poirot—er—exaggeratesalittle.”
ForanswerPoirotsetforthtensalientpoints.Ihavebeenaskednottogivethemtothepublicevennow,andsoIrefrainfromdoingso,buttheyincludedtheextraordinarydisasterstosubmarineswhichoccurredinacertainmonth,andalsoaseriesofaeroplaneaccidentsandforcedlandings.AccordingtoPoirot,thesewerealltheworkoftheBigFour,andborewitnesstothefactthattheywereinpossessionofvariousscientificsecretsunknowntotheworldatlarge.
ThisbroughtusstraighttothequestionwhichIhadbeenwaitingfortheFrenchpremiertoask.
“YousaythatthethirdmemberofthisorganizationisaFrenchwoman.Haveyouanyideaofhername?”
“Itisawell-knownname,monsieur.Anhonouredname.NumberThreeisnolessthanthefamousMadameOlivier.”
Atthementionoftheworld-famousscientist,successortotheCuries,M.Desjardeauxpositivelyboundedfromhischair,hisfacepurplewithemotion.
“MadameOlivier!Impossible!Absurd!Itisaninsultwhatyousaythere!”
Poirotshookhisheadgently,butmadenoanswer.
Desjardeauxlookedathiminstupefactionforsomemoments.Thenhisfacecleared,andheglancedattheHomeSecretaryandtappedhisforeheadsignificantly.
“M.Poirotisagreatman,”heobserved.“Buteventhegreatman—sometimeshehashislittlemania,doeshenot?Andseeksinhighplacesforfanciedconspiracies.Itiswell-known.Youagreewithme,doyounot,Mr.Crowther?”
TheHomeSecretarydidnotanswerforsomeminutes.Thenhespokeslowlyandheavily.
“Uponmysoul,Idon’tknow,”hesaidatlast.“IhavealwayshadandstillhavetheutmostbeliefinM.Poirot,but—well,thistakesabitofbelieving.”
“ThisLiChangYen,too,”continuedM.Desjardeaux.“Whohaseverheardofhim?”
“Ihave,”saidtheunexpectedvoiceofMr.Ingles.
TheFrenchmanstaredathim,andhestaredplacidlybackagain,lookingmorelikeaChineseidolthanever.“Mr.Ingles,”explainedtheHomeSecretary,“isthegreatestauthoritywehaveontheinteriorofChina.”
“AndyouhaveheardofthisLiChangYen?”
“UntilM.Poirotherecametome,IimaginedthatIwastheonlymaninEnglandwhohad.Makenomistake,M.Desjardeaux,thereisonlyonemaninChinawhocountstoday—LiChangYen.Hehas,perhaps,Ionlysayperhaps,thefinestbrainintheworldatthepresenttime.”
M.Desjardeauxsatasthoughstunned.Presently,however,herallied.
“Theremaybesomethinginwhatyousay,M.Poirot,”hesaidcoldly.“ButasregardsMadameOlivier,youaremostcertainlymistaken.SheisatruedaughterofFrance,anddevotedsolelytothecauseofscience.”
Poirotshruggedhisshouldersanddidnotanswer.
Therewasaminuteortwo’spause,andthenmylittlefriendrosetohisfeet,withanairofdignitythatsatratheroddlyuponhisquaintpersonality.
“ThatisallIhavetosay,messieurs—towarnyou.IthoughtitlikelythatIshouldnotbebelieved.Butatleastyouwillbeonyourguard.Mywordswillsinkin,andeachfresheventthatcomesalongwillconfirmyourwaveringfaith.Itwasnecessaryformetospeaknow—laterImightnothavebeenabletodoso.”
“Youmean—?”askedCrowther,impressedinspiteofhimselfbythegravityofPoirot’stone.
“Imean,monsieur,thatsinceIhavepenetratedtheidentityofNumberFour,mylifeisnotworthanhour’spurchase.Hewillseektodestroymeatallcosts—andnotfornothingishenamed‘TheDestroyer.’Messieurs,Isaluteyou.Toyou,M.Crowther,Ideliverthiskey,andthissealedenvelope.Ihavegottogetherallmynotesonthecase,andmyideasastohowbesttomeetthemenacethatanydaymaybreakupontheworld,andhaveplacedtheminacertainsafedeposit.Intheeventofmydeath,M.Crowther,Iauthorizeyoutotakechargeofthosepapersandmakewhatuseyoucanofthem.Andnow,messieurs,Iwishyougoodday.”
Desjardeauxmerelybowedcoldly,butCrowthersprangupandheldouthishand.
“Youhaveconvertedme,M.Poirot.Fantasticasthewholethingseems,Ibelieveutterlyinthetruthofwhatyouhavetoldus.”
Inglesleftatthesametimeaswedid.
“Iamnotdisappointedwiththeinterview,”saidPoirot,aswewalkedalong.“IdidnotexpecttoconvinceDesjardeaux,butIhaveatleastensuredthat,ifIdie,myknowledgedoesnotdiewithme.AndIhavemadeoneortwoconverts.Passimal!”
“I’mwithyou,asyouknow,”saidIngles.“Bytheway,I’mgoingouttoChinaassoonasIcangetoff.”
“Isthatwise?”
“No,”saidInglesdrily.“Butit’snecessary.Onemustdowhatonecan.”
“Ah,youareabraveman!”criedPoirotwithemotion.“Ifwewerenotinthestreet,Iwouldembraceyou.”
IfanciedthatIngleslookedratherrelieved.
“Idon’tsupposethatIshallbeinanymoredangerinChinathanyouareinLondon,”hegrowled.
“Thatispossiblytrueenough,”admittedPoirot.“IhopethattheywillnotsucceedinmassacringHastingsalso,thatisall.Thatwouldannoymegreatly.”
IinterruptedthischeerfulconversationtoremarkthatIhadnointentionoflettingmyselfbemassacred,andshortlyafterwardsInglespartedfromus.
Forsometimewewentalonginsilence,whichPoirotatlengthbrokebyutteringatotallyunexpectedremark.
“Ithink—Ireallythink—thatIshallhavetobringmybrotherintothis.”
“Yourbrother,”Icried,astonished.“Ineverknewyouhadabrother?”
“Yousurpriseme,Hastings.Doyounotknowthatallcelebrateddetectiveshavebrotherswhowouldbeevenmorecelebratedthantheyarewereitnotforconstitutionalindolence?”
Poirotemploysapeculiarmannersometimeswhichmakesitwellnighimpossibletoknowwhetherheisjestingorinearnest.Thatmannerwasveryevidentatthemoment.
“Whatisyourbrother’sname?”Iasked,tryingtoadjustmyselftothisnewidea.
“AchillePoirot,”repliedPoirotgravely.“HelivesnearSpainBelgium.”
“Whatdoeshedo?”Iaskedwithsomecuriosity,puttingasideahalf-formedwonderastothecharacteranddispositionofthelateMadamePoirot,andherclassicaltasteinChristiannames.
“Hedoesnothing.Heis,asItell,ofasingularlyindolentdisposition.Buthisabilitiesarehardlylessthanmyown—whichissayingagreatdeal.”
“Ishelikeyoutolookat?”
“Notunlike.Butnotnearlysohandsome.Andhewearsnomoustaches.”
“Isheolderthanyou,oryounger?”
“Hehappenstohavebeenbornonthesameday.”
“Atwin,”Icried.
“Exactly,Hastings.Youjumptotherightconclusionwithunfailingaccuracy.Buthereweareathomeagain.LetusatoncegettoworkonthatlittleaffairoftheDuchess’snecklace.”
ButtheDuchess’snecklacewasdoomedtowaitawhile.Acaseofquiteanotherdescriptionwaswaitingforus.
Ourlandlady,Mrs.Pearson,atonceinformedusthatahospitalnursehadcalledandwaswaitingtoseePoirot.
Wefoundhersittinginthebigarmchairfacingthewindow,apleasant-facedwomanofmiddleage,inadarkblueuniform.Shewasalittlereluctanttocometothepoint,butPoirotsoonputheratherease,andsheembarkeduponherstory.
“Yousee,M.Poirot,I’venevercomeacrossanythingofthekindbefore.Iwassentfor,fromtheLarkSisterhood,togodowntoacaseinHertfordshire.Anoldgentleman,itis,Mr.Templeton.Quiteapleasanthouse,andquitepleasantpeople.Thewife,Mrs.Templeton,ismuchyoungerthanthehusband,andhehasasonbyhisfirstmarriagewholivesthere.Idon’tknowthattheyoungmanandthestepmotheralwaysgetontogether.He’snotquitewhatyou’dcallnormal—not‘wanting’exactly,butdecidedlydullintheintellect.Well,thisillnessofMr.Templeton’sseemedtomefromthefirsttobemysterious.Attimesthereseemedreallynothingthematterwithhim,andthenhesuddenlyhasoneofthesegastricattackswithpainandvomiting.Butthedoctorseemedquitesatisfied,anditwasn’tformetosayanything.ButIcouldn’thelpthinkingaboutit.Andthen—”Shepaused,andbecameratherred.
“Somethinghappenedwhicharousedyoursuspicions?”suggestedPoirot.
“Yes.”
Butshestillseemedtofinditdifficulttogoon.
“Ifoundtheservantswerepassingremarkstoo.”
“AboutMr.Templeton’sillness?”
“Oh,no!About—aboutthisotherthing—”
“Mrs.Templeton?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs.Templetonandthedoctor,perhaps?”
Poirothadanuncannyflairinthesethings.Thenursethrewhimagratefulglanceandwenton.
“Theywerepassingremarks.AndthenonedayIhappenedtoseethemtogethermyself—inthegarden—”
Itwasleftatthat.Ourclientwasinsuchanagonyofoutragedproprietythatnoonecouldfeelitnecessarytoaskexactlywhatshehadseeninthegarden.Shehadevidentlyseenquiteenoughtomakeupherownmindonthesituation.
“Theattacksgotworseandworse.Dr.Trevessaiditwasallperfectlynaturalandtobeexpected,andthatMr.Templetoncouldnotpossiblylivelong,butI’veneverseenanythinglikeitbeforemyself—notinallmylongexperienceofnursing.Itseemedtomemuchmorelikesomeformof—”
Shepaused,hesitating.
“Arsenicalpoisoning?”saidPoirothelpfully.
Shenodded.
“Andthen,too,he,thepatient,Imean,saidsomethingqueer.‘They’lldoforme,thefourofthem.They’lldoformeyet.’”
“Eh?”saidPoirotquickly.
“Thosewerehisverywords,M.Poirot.Hewasingreatpainatthetime,ofcourse,andhardlyknewwhathewassaying.”
“‘They’lldoforme,thefourofthem,’”repeatedPoirotthoughtfully.“Whatdidhemeanby‘thefourofthem,’doyouthink?”
“ThatIcan’tsay,M.Poirot.Ithoughtperhapshemeanthiswifeandson,andthedoctor,andperhapsMissClark,Mrs.Templeton’scompanion.Thatwouldmakefour,wouldn’tit?Hemightthinktheywereallinleagueagainsthim.”
“Quiteso,quiteso,”saidPoirot,inapreoccupiedvoice.“Whataboutfood?Couldyoutakenoprecautionsaboutthat?”
“I’malwaysdoingwhatIcan.But,ofcourse,sometimesMrs.Templetoninsistsonbringinghimhisfoodherself,andthentherearethetimeswhenIamoffduty.”
“Exactly.Andyouarenotsureenoughofyourgroundtogotothepolice?”
Thenurse’sfaceshowedherhorroratthemereidea.
“WhatIhavedone,M.Poirot,isthis.Mr.Templetonhadaverybadattackafterpartakingofabowlofsoup.Itookalittlefromthebottomofthebowlafterwards,andhavebroughtitupwithme.Ihavebeensparedforthedaytovisitasickmother,asMr.Templetonwaswellenoughtobeleft.”
ShedrewoutalittlebottleofdarkfluidandhandedittoPoirot.
“Excellent,mademoiselle.Wewillhavethisanalysedimmediately.Ifyouwillreturnherein,say,anhour’stimeIthinkthatweshallbeabletodisposeofyoursuspicionsonewayoranother.”
Firstextractingfromourvisitorhernameandqualifications,heusheredherout.Thenhewroteanoteandsentitofftogetherwiththebottleofsoup.Whilstwewaitedtoheartheresult,Poirotamusedhimselfbyverifyingthenurse’scredentials,somewhattomysurprise.
“No,no,myfriend,”hedeclared.“Idowelltobecareful.DonotforgettheBigFourareonourtrack.”
However,hesoonelicitedtheinformationthatanurseofthenameofMabelPalmerwasamemberoftheLarkInstituteandhadbeensenttothecaseinquestion.
“Sofar,sogood,”hesaid,withatwinkle.“AndnowherecomesNursePalmerbackagain,andherealsoisouranalyst’sreport.
“Istherearsenicinit?”sheaskedbreathlessly.
Poirotshookhishead,refoldingthepaper.
“No.”
Wewerebothimmeasurablysurprised.
“Thereisnoarsenicinit,”continuedPoirot.“Butthereisantimony,andthatbeingthecase,wewillstartimmediatelyforHertfordshire.PrayHeaventhatwearenottoolate.”
ItwasdecidedthatthesimplestplanwasforPoirottorepresenthimselftrulyasadetective,butthattheostensiblereasonofhisvisitshouldbetoquestionMrs.TempletonaboutaservantformerlyinheremploymentwhosenameheobtainedfromNursePalmer,andwhomhecouldrepresentasbeingconcernedinajewelrobbery.
ItwaslatewhenwearrivedatElmstead,asthehousewascalled.WehadallowedNursePalmertoprecedeusbyabouttwentyminutes,sothatthereshouldbenoquestionofourallarrivingtogether.
Mrs.Templeton,atalldarkwoman,withsinuousmovementsanduneasyeyes,receivedus.InoticedthatasPoirotannouncedhisprofession,shedrewinherbreathwithasuddenhiss,asthoughbadlystartled,butsheansweredhisquestionaboutthemaidservantreadilyenough.Andthen,totesther,Poirotembarkeduponalonghistoryofapoisoningcaseinwhichaguiltywifehadfigured.Hiseyesneverleftherfaceashetalked,andtryasshewould,shecouldhardlyconcealherrisingagitation.Suddenly,withanincoherentwordofexcuse,shehurriedfromtheroom.
Wewerenotlongleftalone.Asquarelybuiltmanwithasmallredmoustacheandpince-nezcamein.
“Dr.Treves,”heintroducedhimself.“Mrs.Templetonaskedmetomakeherexcusestoyou.She’sinaverybadstate,youknow.Nervousstrain.Worryoverherhusbandandallthat.I’veprescribedbedandbromide.Butshehopesyou’llstayandtakepotluck,andI’mtodohost.We’veheardofyoudownhere,M.Poirot,andwemeantomakethemostofyou.Ah,here’sMicky!”
Ashamblingyoungmanenteredtheroom.Hehadaveryroundface,andfoolish-lookingeyebrowsraisedasthoughinperpetualsurprise.Hegrinnedawkwardlyasheshookhands.Thiswasclearlythe“wanting”son.
Presentlyweallwentintodinner.Dr.Treveslefttheroom—toopensomewine,Ithink—andsuddenlytheboy’sphysiognomyunderwentastartlingchange.Heleantforward,staringatPoirot.
“You’vecomeaboutFather,”hesaid,noddinghishead.“Iknow.Iknowlotsofthings—butnobodythinksIdo.MotherwillbegladwhenFather’sdeadandshecanmarryDr.Treves.Sheisn’tmyownmother,youknow.Idon’tlikeher.ShewantsFathertodie.”
Itwasallratherhorrible.Luckily,beforePoirothadtimetoreply,thedoctorcameback,andwehadtocarryonaforcedconversation.
AndthensuddenlyPoirotlaybackinhischairwithahollowgroan.Hisfacewascontortedwithpain.
“Mydearsir,what’sthematter?”criedthedoctor.
“Asuddenspasm.Iamusedtothem.No,no,Irequirenoassistancefromyou,doctor.IfImightliedownupstairs.”
Hisrequestwasinstantlyaccededto,andIaccompaniedhimupstairs,wherehecollapsedonthebed,groaningheavily
ForthefirstminuteortwoIhadbeentakenin,butIhadquicklyrealizedthatPoirotwas—ashewouldhaveputit—playingthecomedy,andthathisobjectwastobeleftaloneupstairsnearthepatient’sroom.
HenceIwasquitepreparedwhen,theinstantwewerealone,hesprangup.
“Quick,Hastings,thewindow.Thereisivyoutside.Wecanclimbdownbeforetheybegintosuspect.”
“Climbdown?”
“Yes,wemustgetoutofthishouseatonce.Yousawhimatdinner?”
“Thedoctor?”
“No,youngTempleton.Histrickwithhisbread.DoyourememberwhatFlossieMonrotoldusbeforeshedied?ThatClaudDarrellhadahabitofdabbinghisbreadonthetabletopickupcrumbs.Hastings,thisisavastplot,andthatvacant-lookingyoungmanisourarchenemy—NumberFour!Hurry.”
Ididnotwaittoargue.Incredibleasthewholethingseemeditwaswisernottodelay.Wescrambleddowntheivyasquietlyaswecouldandmadeabeelineforthesmalltownandtherailwaystation.Wewerejustabletocatchthelasttrain,the8:34whichwouldlandusintownabouteleveno’clock.
“Aplot,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Howmanyofthemwereinit,Iwonder?IsuspectthatthewholeTempletonfamilyarejustsomanyagentsoftheBigFour.Didtheysimplywanttodecoyusdownthere?Orwasitmoresubtlethanthat?Didtheyintendtoplaythecomedydownthereandkeepmeinteresteduntiltheyhadhadtimetodo—what?Iwondernow.”
Heremainedverythoughtful.
Arrivedatourlodgings,herestrainedmeatthedoorofthesittingroom.
“Attention,Hastings.Ihavemysuspicions.Letmeenterfirst.”
Hedidso,and,tomyslightamusement,tooktheprecautiontopressontheelectricswitchwithanoldgalosh.Thenhewentroundtheroomlikeastrangecat,cautiously,delicately,onthealertfordanger.Iwatchedhimforsometime,remainingobedientlywhereIhadbeenputbythewall.
“Itseemsallright,Poirot,”Isaidimpatiently.
“Itseemsso,monami,itseemsso.Butletusmakesure.”
“Rot,”Isaid.“Ishalllightthefire,anyway,andhaveapipe.I’vecaughtyououtforonce.Youhadthematcheslastandyoudidn’tputthembackintheholderasusual—theverythingyou’realwayscursingmefordoing.”
Istretchedoutmyhand.IheardPoirot’swarningcry—sawhimleapingtowardsme—myhandtouchedthematchbox.
Then—aflashofblueflame—anear-rendingcrash—anddarkness—
IcametomyselftofindthefamiliarfaceofouroldfriendDr.Ridgewaybendingoverme.Anexpressionofreliefpassedoverhisfeatures.
“Keepstill,”hesaidsoothingly.“You’reallright.There’sbeenanaccident,youknow.”
“Poirot?”Imurmured.
“You’reinmydigs.Everything’squiteallright.”
Acoldfearclutchedatmyheart.Hisevasionwokeahorriblefear.
“Poirot?”Ireiterated.“WhatofPoirot?”
HesawthatIhadtoknowandthatfurtherevasionswereuseless.
“Byamiracleyouescaped—Poirot—didnot!”
Acryburstfrommylips.
“Notdead?Notdead?”
Ridgewaybowedhishead,hisfeaturesworkingwithemotion.
WithdesperateenergyIpulledmyselftoasittingposition.
“Poirotmaybedead,”Isaidweakly.“Buthisspiritliveson.Iwillcarryonhiswork!DeathtotheBigFour!”
ThenIfellback,fainting.
Sixteen
THEDYINGCHINAMAN
EvennowIcanhardlybeartowriteofthosedaysinMarch.
Poirot—theunique,theinimitableHerculePoirot—dead!Therewasaparticularlydiabolicaltouchinthedisarrangedmatchbox,whichwascertaintocatchhiseye,andwhichhewouldhastentorearrange—andtherebytouchofftheexplosion.That,asamatteroffact,itwasIwhoactuallyprecipitatedthecatastropheneverceasedtofillmewithunavailingremorse.Itwas,Dr.Ridgewaysaid,aperfectmiraclethatIhadnotbeenkilled,buthadescapedwithaslightconcussion.
AlthoughithadseemedtomeasthoughIregainedconsciousnessalmostimmediately,itwasinrealityovertwenty-fourhoursbeforeIcamebacktolife.ItwasnotuntiltheeveningofthedayfollowingthatIwasabletostaggerfeeblyintoanadjoiningroom,andviewwithdeepemotiontheplainelmcoffinwhichheldtheremainsofoneofthemostmarvellousmenthisworldhaseverknown.
FromtheveryfirstmomentofregainingconsciousnessIhadhadonlyonepurposeinmind—toavengePoirot’sdeath,andtohuntdowntheBigFourremorselessly.
IhadthoughtthatRidgewaywouldhavebeenofonemindwithmeaboutthis,buttomysurprisethegooddoctorseemedunaccountablylukewarm.
“GetbacktoSouthAmerica,”washisadvice,tenderedoneveryoccasion.Whyattempttheimpossible?Putasdelicatelyaspossible,hisopinionamountedtothis:IfPoirot,theuniquePoirot,hadfailed,wasitlikelythatIshouldsucceed?
ButIwasobstinate.PuttingasideanyquestionastowhetherIhadthenecessaryqualificationsforthetask(andImaysayinpassingthatIdidnotentirelyagreewithhisviewsonthispoint)IhadworkedsolongwithPoirotthatIknewhismethodsbyheart,andfeltfullycapableoftakinguptheworkwherehehadlaiditdown;itwas,withme,aquestionoffeeling.Myfriendhadbeenfoullymurdered.WasItogotamelybacktoSouthAmericawithoutanefforttobringhismurdererstojustice?
IsaidallthisandmoretoRidgeway,wholistenedattentivelyenough.
“Allthesame,”hesaidwhenIhadfinished,“myadvicedoesnotvary.IamearnestlyconvincedthatPoirothimself,ifhewerehere,wouldurgeyoutoreturn.Inhisname,Ibegofyou,Hastings,abandonthesewildideasandgobacktoyourranch.”
Tothatonlyoneanswerwaspossible,and,shakinghisheadsadly,hesaidnomore.
ItwasamonthbeforeIwasfullyrestoredtohealth.TowardstheendofApril,Isought,andobtained,aninterviewwiththeHomeSecretary.
Mr.Crowther’smannerwasreminiscentofthatofDr.Ridgeway.Itwassoothingandnegative.Whilstappreciatingtheofferofmyservices,hegentlyandconsideratelydeclinedthem.ThepapersreferredtobyPoirothadpassedintohiskeeping,andheassuredmethatallpossiblestepswerebeingtakentodealwiththeapproachingmenace.
WiththatcoldcomfortIwasforcedtobesatisfied.Mr.CrowtherendedtheinterviewbyurgingmetoreturntoSouthAmerica.Ifoundthewholethingprofoundlyunsatisfactory.
Ishould,Isuppose,initsproperplace,havedescribedPoirot’sfuneral.Itwasasolemnandmovingceremony,andtheextraordinarynumberoffloraltributespassedbelief.Theycamefromhighandlowalike,andborestrikingtestimonytotheplacemyfriendhadmadeforhimselfinthecountryofhisadoption.Formyself,IwasfranklyovercomebyemotionasIstoodbythegravesideandthoughtofallourvariedexperiencesandthehappydayswehadpassedtogether.
BythebeginningofMayIhadmappedoutaplanofcampaign.IfeltthatIcouldnotdobetterthankeeptoPoirot’sschemeofadvertisingforanyinformationrespectingClaudDarrell.Ihadanadvertisementtothiseffectinsertedinanumberofmorningnewspapers,andIwassittinginasmallrestaurantinSoho,andjudgingoftheeffectoftheadvertisement,whenasmallparagraphinanotherpartofthepapergavemeanastyshock.
Verybriefly,itreportedthemysteriousdisappearanceofMr.JohnInglesfromtheS.S.Shanghai,shortlyafterthelatterhadleftMarseilles.Althoughtheweatherwasperfectlysmooth,itwasfearedthattheunfortunategentlemanmusthavefallenoverboard.TheparagraphendedwithabriefreferencetoMr.Ingles’slonganddistinguishedserviceinChina.
Thenewswasunpleasant.IreadintoIngles’sdeathasinistermotive.NotforonemomentdidIbelievethetheoryofanaccident.Ingleshadbeenmurdered,andhisdeathwasonlytooclearlythehandiworkofthataccursedBigFour.
AsIsatthere,stunnedbytheblow,andturningthewholematteroverinmymind,Iwasstartledbytheremarkablebehaviourofthemansittingoppositeme.SofarIhadnotpaidmuchattentiontohim.Hewasathin,darkmanofmiddleage,sallowofcomplexion,withasmallpointedbeard.HehadsatdownoppositemesoquietlythatIhadhardlynoticedhisarrival.
Buthisactionsnowweredecidedlypeculiar,tosaytheleastofthem.Leaningforward,hedeliberatelyhelpedmetosalt,puttingitinfourlittleheapsroundtheedgeofmyplate.
“Youwillexcuseme,”hesaid,inamelancholyvoice.“Tohelpastrangertosaltistohelpthemtosorrow,theysay.Thatmaybeanunavoidablenecessity.Ihopenot,though.Ihopethatyouwillbereasonable.”
Then,withacertainsignificance,herepeatedhisoperationswiththesaltonhisownplate.Thesymbol4wastooplaintobemissed.Ilookedathimsearchingly.InnowaythatIcouldseedidheresembletheyoungTempleton,orJamesthefootman,oranyotherofthevariouspersonalitieswehadcomeacross.Nevertheless,IwasconvincedthatIhadtodowithnolessthantheredoubtableNumberFourhimself.Inhisvoicetherewascertainlyafaintresemblancetothebuttoned-upstrangerwhohadcalleduponusinParis.
Ilookedround,undecidedastomycourseofaction.Readingmythoughts,hesmiledandgentlyshookhishead.
“Ishouldnotadviseit,”heremarked.“RememberwhatcameofyourhastyactioninParis.Letmeassureyouthatmywayofretreatiswellassured.Yourideasareinclinedtobealittlecrude,CaptainHastings,ifImaysayso.”
“Youdevil,”Isaid,chokingwithrage,“youincarnatedevil!”
“Heated—justatrifleheated.Yourlatelamentedfriendwouldhavetoldyouthatamanwhokeepscalmhasalwaysagreatadvantage.”
“Youdaretospeakofhim,”Icried.“Themanyoumurderedsofoully.Andyoucomehere—”
Heinterruptedme.
“Icamehereforanexcellentandpeacefulpurpose.ToadviseyoutoreturnatoncetoSouthAmerica.Ifyoudoso,thatistheendofthematterasfarastheBigFourareconcerned.Youandyourswillnotbemolestedinanyway.Igiveyoumywordastothat.”
Ilaughedscornfully.
“AndifIrefusetoobeyyourautocraticcommand?”
“Itishardlyacommand.Shallwesaythatitis—awarning?”
Therewasacoldmenaceinhistone.
“Thefirstwarning,”hesaidsoftly.“Youwillbewelladvisednottodisregardit.”
Then,beforeIhadanyhintofhisintention,heroseandslippedquicklyawaytowardsthedoor.Isprangtomyfeetandwasafterhiminasecond,butbybadluckIcannonedstraightintoanenormouslyfatmanwhoblockedthewaybetweenmeandthenexttable.BythetimeIhaddisentangledmyself,myquarrywasjustpassingthroughthedoorway,andthenextdelaywasfromawaitercarryingahugepileofplateswhocrashedintomewithouttheleastwarning.BythetimeIgottothedoortherewasnosignofthethinmanwiththedarkbeard.
Thewaiterwasfulsomeinapologies,thefatmanwassittingplacidlyatatableorderinghislunch.Therewasnothingtoshowthatbothoccurrenceshadnotbeenapureaccident.Nevertheless,Ihadmyownopinionastothat.IknewwellenoughthattheagentsoftheBigFourwereeverywhere.
Needlesstosay,Ipaidnoheedtothewarninggivenme.Iwoulddoordieinthegoodcause.Ireceivedinallonlytwoanswerstotheadvertisements.Neitherofthemgavemeanyinformationofvalue.TheywerebothfromactorswhohadplayedwithClaudDarrellatonetimeoranother.Neitherofthemknewhimatallintimately,andnonewlightwasthrownupontheproblemofhisidentityandpresentwhereabouts.
NofurthersigncamefromtheBigFouruntilabouttendayslater.IwascrossingHydePark,lostinthought,whenavoice,richwithapersuasiveforeigninflection,hailedme.
“CaptainHastings,isitnot?”
Abiglimousinehadjustdrawnupbythepavement.Awomanwasleaningout.Exquisitelydressedinblack,withwonderfulpearls,IrecognizedtheladyfirstknowntousasCountessVeraRossakoff,andafterwardsunderadifferentaliasasanagentoftheBigFour.Poirot,forsomereasonorother,hadalwayshadasneakingfondnessforthecountess.Somethinginherveryflamboyanceattractedthelittleman.Shewas,hewaswonttodeclareinmomentsofenthusiasm,awomaninathousand.Thatshewasarrayedagainstus,onthesideofourbitterestenemies,neverseemedtoweighinhisjudgement.
“Ah,donotpasson!”saidthecountess.“Ihavesomethingmostimportanttosaytoyou.Anddonottrytohavemearrestedeither,forthatwouldbestupid.Youwerealwaysalittlestupid—yes,yes,itisso.Youarestupidnow,whenyoupersistindisregardingthewarningwesentyou.ItisthesecondwarningIbringyou.LeaveEnglandatonce.Youcandonogoodhere—Itellyouthatfrankly.Youwillneveraccomplishanything.”
“Inthatcase,”Isaidstiffly,“itseemsratherextraordinarythatyouareallsoanxioustogetmeoutofthecountry.”
Thecountessshruggedhershoulders—magnificentshoulders,andamagnificentgesture.
“Formypart,Ithinkthat,too,stupid.Iwouldleaveyouheretoplayabouthappily.Butthechiefs,yousee,arefearfulthatsomewordofyoursmaygivegreathelptothosemoreintelligentthanyourself.Hence—youaretobebanished.”
Thecountessappearedtohaveaflatteringideaofmyabilities.Iconcealedmyannoyance.DoubtlessthisattitudeofherswasassumedexpresslytoannoymeandtogivemetheideathatIwasunimportant.
“Itwould,ofcourse,bequiteeasyto—removeyou,”shecontinued,“butIamquitesentimentalsometimes.Ipleadedforyou.Youhaveanicelittlewifesomewhere,haveyounot?Anditwouldpleasethepoorlittlemanwhoisdeadtoknowthatyouwerenottobekilled.Ialwayslikedhim,youknow.Hewasclever—butclever!HaditnotbeenacaseoffouragainstoneIhonestlybelievehemighthavebeentoomuchforus.Iconfessitfrankly—hewasmymaster!Isentawreathtothefuneralasatokenofmyadmiration—anenormousoneofcrimsonroses.Crimsonrosesexpressmytemperament.”
Ilistenedinsilenceandagrowingdistaste.
“Youhavethelookofamulewhenitputsitsearsbackandkicks.Well,Ihavedeliveredmywarning.Rememberthis,thethirdwarningwillcomebythehandoftheDestroyer—”
Shemadeasign,andthecarwhirledawayrapidly.Inotedthenumbermechanically,butwithoutthehopethatitwouldleadtoanything.TheBigFourwerenotapttobecarelessindetails.
Iwenthomealittlesobered.Onefacthademergedfromthecountess’sfloodofvolubility.Iwasinrealdangerofmylife.ThoughIhadnointentionofabandoningthestruggle,Isawthatitbehovedmetowalkwarilyandadopteverypossibleprecaution.
WhilstIwasreviewingallthesefactsandseekingforthebestlineofaction,thetelephonebellrang.Icrossedtheroomandpickedupthereceiver.
“Yes.Hallo.Who’sspeaking?”
Acrispvoiceansweredme.
“ThisisSt.Giles’sHospital.WehaveaChinamanhere,knifedinthestreetandbroughtin.Hecan’tlastlong.Werangyouupbecausewefoundinhispocketsapieceofpaperwithyournameandaddressonit.”
Iwasverymuchastonished.Nevertheless,afteramoment’sreflectionIsaidthatIwouldcomedownatonce.St.Giles’sHospital,was,Iknew,downbythedocks,anditoccurredtomethattheChinamanmighthavejustcomeoffsomeship.
Itwasonmywaydowntherethatasuddensuspicionshotintomymind.Wasthewholethingatrap?WhereveraChinamanwas,theremightbethehandofLiChangYen.IrememberedtheadventureoftheBaitedTrap.Wasthewholethingaruseonthepartofmyenemies?
Alittlereflectionconvincedmethatatanyrateavisittothehospitalwoulddonoharm.Itwasprobablethatthethingwasnotsomuchaplotaswhatisvulgarlyknownasa“plant.”ThedyingChinamanwouldmakesomerevelationtomeuponwhichIshouldact,andwhichwouldhavetheresultofleadingmeintothehandsoftheBigFour.Thethingtodowastopreserveanopenmind,andwhilstfeigningcredulitybesecretlyonmyguard.
OnarrivingatSt.Giles’sHospital,andmakingmybusinessknown,Iwastakenatoncetotheaccidentward,tothebedsideofthemaninquestion.Helayabsolutelystill,hiseyelidsclosed,andonlyaveryfaintmovementofthechestshowedthathestillbreathed.Adoctorstoodbythebed,hisfingersontheChinaman’spulse.
“He’salmostgone,”hewhisperedtome.“Youknowhim,eh?”
Ishookmyhead.
“I’veneverseenhimbefore.”
“Thenwhatwashedoingwithyournameandaddressinhispocket?YouareCaptainHastings,aren’tyou?”
“Yes,butIcan’texplainitanymorethanyoucan.”
“Curiousthing.FromhispapersheseemstohavebeentheservantofamancalledIngles—aretiredCivilServant.Ah,youknowhim,doyou?”headdedquickly,asIstartedatthename.
Ingles’sservant!ThenIhadseenhimbefore.NotthatIhadeversucceededinbeingabletodistinguishoneChinamanfromanother.HemusthavebeenwithInglesonhiswaytoChina,andafterthecatastrophehehadreturnedtoEnglandwithamessage,possibly,forme.Itwasvital,imperativethatIshouldhearthemessage.
“Isheconscious?”Iasked.“Canhespeak?Mr.Ingleswasanoldfriendofmine,andIthinkitpossiblethatthispoorfellowhasbroughtmeamessagefromhim.Mr.Inglesisbelievedtohavegoneoverboardabouttendaysago.”
“He’sjustconscious,butIdoubtifhehastheforcetospeak.Helostaterriblelotofblood,youknow.Icanadministerastimulant,ofcourse,butwe’vealreadydoneallthatispossibleinthatdirection.”
Nevertheless,headministeredahypodermicinjection,andIstayedbythebed,hopingagainsthopeforaword—asign—thatmightbeoftheutmostvaluetomeinmywork.Buttheminutesspedonandnosigncame.
Andsuddenlyabalefulideashotacrossmymind.WasInotalreadyfallingintothetrap?SupposethatthisChinamanhadmerelyassumedthepartofIngles’sservant,thathewasinrealityanagentoftheBigFour?HadInotoncereadthatcertainChinesepriestswerecapableofsimulatingdeath?Or,togofurtherstill,LiChangYenmightcommandalittlebandoffanaticswhowouldwelcomedeathitselfifitcameatthecommandoftheirmaster.Imustbeonmyguard.
Evenasthesethoughtsflashedacrossmymind,themaninthebedstirred.Hiseyesopened.Hemurmuredsomethingincoherently.ThenIsawhisglancefastenuponme.Hemadenosignofrecognition,butIwasatonceawarethathewastryingtospeaktome.Behefriendorfoe,Imusthearwhathehadtosay.
Ileanedoverthebed,butthebrokensoundsconveyednosortofmeaningtome.IthoughtIcaughttheword“hand,”butinwhatconnectionitwasusedIcouldnottell.Thenitcameagain,andthistimeIheardanotherword,theword“Largo.”Istaredinamazement,asthepossiblejuxtapositionofthetwosuggesteditselftome.
“Handel’sLargo?”Iqueried.
TheChinaman’seyelidsflickeredrapidly,asthoughinassent,andheaddedanotherItalianword,theword“carrozza.”TwoorthreemorewordsofmurmuredItaliancametomyears,andthenhefellbackabruptly.
Thedoctorpushedmeaside.Itwasallover.Themanwasdead.
Iwentoutintotheairagainthoroughlybewildered.
“Handel’sLargo,”anda“carrozza.”IfIrememberedrightly,acarrozzawasacarriage.Whatpossiblemeaningcouldliebehindthosesimplewords?ThemanwasaChinaman,notanItalian,whyshouldhespeakinItalian?Surely,ifhewereindeedIngles’sservant,hemustknowEnglish?Thewholethingwasprofoundlymystifying.Ipuzzledoveritallthewayhome.Oh,ifonlyPoirothadbeentheretosolvetheproblemwithhislightningingenuity!
Iletmyselfinwithmylatchkeyandwentslowlyuptomyroom.Aletterwaslyingonthetable,andItoreitopencarelesslyenough.ButinaminuteIstoodrootedtothegroundwhilstIread.
Itwasacommunicationfromafirmofsolicitors.
DearSir(itran)—Asinstructedbyourlateclient,M.HerculePoirot,weforwardyoutheenclosedletter.Thisletterwasplacedinourhandsaweekbeforehisdeath,withinstructionsthatintheeventofhisdemise,itshouldbesenttoyouatacertaindateafterhisdeath.Yoursfaithfully,etc.
Iturnedtheenclosedmissiveoverandover.ItwasundoubtablyfromPoirot.Iknewthatfamiliarwritingonlytoowell.Withaheavyheart,yetacertaineagerness,Itoreitopen.
MonCherAmi(itbegan)—WhenyoureceivethisIshallbenomore.Donotshedtearsaboutme,butfollowmyorders.Immediatelyuponreceiptofthis,returntoSouthAmerica.Donotbepigheadedaboutthis.ItisnotforsentimentalreasonsthatIbidyouundertakethejourney.Itisnecessary.ItispartoftheplanofHerculePoirot!Tosaymoreisunnecessary,toanyonewhohastheacuteintelligenceofmyfriendHastings.AbastheBigFour!Isaluteyou,myfriend,frombeyondthegrave.Everthine,HerculePoirot
Ireadandrereadthisastonishingcommunication.Onethingwasevident.Theamazingmanhadsoprovidedforeveryeventualitythatevenhisowndeathdidnotupsetthesequenceofhisplans!Minewastobetheactivepart—histhedirectinggenius.DoubtlessIshouldfindfullinstructionsawaitingmebeyondtheseas.Inthemeantimemyenemies,convincedthatIwasobeyingtheirwarning,wouldceasetotroubletheirheadsaboutme.Icouldreturn,unsuspected,andworkhavocintheirmidst.
Therewasnownothingtohindermyimmediatedeparture.Isentoffcables,bookedmypassage,andoneweeklaterfoundmeembarkingintheAnsonia,enrouteforBuenosAires.
Justastheboatleftthequay,astewardbroughtmeanote.Ithadbeengivenhim,soheexplained,byabiggentlemaninafurcoatwhohadlefttheboatlastthingbeforethegangwayplankswerelifted.
Iopenedit.Itwasterseandtothepoint.
“Youarewise,”itran.Itwassignedwithabigfigure4.
Icouldaffordtosmiletomyself!
Theseawasnottoochoppy.Ienjoyedapassabledinner,madeupmymindastothemajorityofmyfellowpassengers,andhadarubberortwoofbridge.ThenIturnedinandsleptlikealogasIalwaysdoonboardship.
Iwasawakenedbyfeelingmyselfpersistentlyshaken.Dazedandbewildered,Isawthatoneoftheship’sofficerswasstandingoverme.HegaveasighofreliefasIsatup.
“ThanktheLordI’vegotyouawakeatlast.I’vehadnoendofajob.Doyoualwayssleeplikethat?”
“What’sthematter?”Iasked,stillbewilderedandnotfullyawake.“Isthereanythingwrongwiththeship?”
“Iexpectyouknowwhat’sthematterbetterthanIdo,”hereplieddrily.“SpecialinstructionsfromtheAdmiralty.There’sadestroyerwaitingtotakeyouoff.”
“What?”Icried.“Inmidocean?”
“Itseemsamostmysteriousaffair,butthat’snotmybusiness.They’vesentayoungfellowaboardwhoistotakeyourplace,andweareallsworntosecrecy.Willyougetupanddress?”
UtterlyunabletoconcealmyamazementIdidasIwastold.Aboatwaslowered,andIwasconveyedaboardthedestroyer.ThereIwasreceivedcourteously,butgotnofurtherinformation.Thecommander’sinstructionsweretolandmeatacertainspotontheBelgiancoast.Therehisknowledgeandresponsibilityended.
Thewholethingwaslikeadream.TheoneideaIheldtofirmlywasthatallthismustbepartofPoirot’splan.Imustsimplygoforwardblindly,trustinginmydeadfriend.
Iwasdulylandedatthespotindicated.Thereamotorwaswaiting,andsoonIwasrapidlywhirlingacrosstheflatFlemishplains.IsleptthatnightatasmallhotelinBrussels.Thenextdaywewentonagain.Thecountrybecamewoodedandhilly.IrealizedthatwewerepenetratingintotheArdennes,andIsuddenlyrememberedPoirot’ssayingthathehadabrotherwholivedatSpa.
ButwedidnotgotoSpaitself.Weleftthemainroadandwoundintotheleafyfastnessesofthehills,tillwereachedalittlehamlet,andanisolatedwhitevillahighonthehillside.Herethecarstoppedinfrontofthegreendoorofthevilla.
ThedooropenedasIalighted.Anelderlymanservantstoodinthedoorwaybowing.
“M.leCapitaineHastings?”hesaidinFrench.“M.leCapitaineisexpected.Ifhewillfollowme.”
Heledthewayacrossthehall,andflungopenadoorattheback,standingasidetoletmepassin.
Iblinkedalittle,fortheroomfacedwestandtheafternoonsunwaspouringin.ThenmyvisionclearedandIsawafigurewaitingtowelcomemewithoutstretchedhands.
Itwas—oh,impossible,itcouldn’tbe—butyes!
“Poirot!”Icried,andforoncedidnotattempttoevadetheembracewithwhichheoverwhelmedme.
“Butyes,butyes,itisindeedI!NotsoeasytokillHerculePoirot!”
“ButPoirot—why?”
“Arusedeguerre,myfriend,arusedeguerre.Allisnowreadyforourgrandcoup.”
“Butyoumighthavetoldme!”
“No,Hastings,Icouldnot.Never,never,inathousandyears,couldyouhaveactedthepartatthefuneral.Asitwas,itwasperfect.ItcouldnotfailtocarryconvictiontotheBigFour.”
“ButwhatI’vebeenthrough—”
“Donotthinkmetoounfeeling.Icarriedoutthedeceptionpartlyforyoursake.Iwaswillingtoriskmyownlife,butIhadqualmsaboutcontinuallyriskingyours.So,aftertheexplosion,Ihaveanideaofgreatbrilliancy.ThegoodRidgeway,heenablesmetocarryitout.Iamdead,youwillreturntoSouthAmerica.But,monami,thatisjustwhatyouwouldnotdo.IntheendIhavetoarrangeasolicitor’sletter,andalongrigmarole.But,atallevents,hereyouare—thatisthegreatthing.Andnowweliehere—perdus—tillthemomentcomesforthelastgrandcoup—thefinaloverthrowingoftheBigFour.”
Seventeen
NUMBERFOURWINSATRICK
FromourquietretreatintheArdenneswewatchedtheprogressofaffairsinthegreatworld.Wewereplentifullysuppliedwithnewspapers,andeverydayPoirotreceivedabulkyenvelope,evidentlycontainingsomekindofreport.Henevershowedthesereportstome,butIcouldusuallytellfromhismannerwhethertheircontentshadbeensatisfactoryorotherwise.Heneverwaveredinhisbeliefthatourpresentplanwastheonlyonelikelytobecrownedbysuccess
“Asaminorpoint,Hastings,”heremarkedoneday,“Iwasincontinualfearofyourdeathlyingatmydoor.Andthatrenderedmenervous—likeacatuponthejumps,asyousay.ButnowIamwellsatisfied.EveniftheydiscoverthattheCaptainHastingswholandedinSouthAmericaisanimpostor(andIdonotthinktheywilldiscoverit,theyarenotlikelytosendanagentouttherewhoknowsyoupersonally),theywillonlybelievethatyouaretryingtocircumventtheminsomeclevermannerofyourown,andwillpaynoseriousattentiontodiscoveringyourwhereabouts.Oftheonevitalfact,mysupposeddeath,theyarethoroughlyconvinced.Theywillgoaheadandmaturetheirplans.”
“Andthen?”Iaskedeagerly.
“Andthen,monami,grandresurrectionofHerculePoirot!AttheeleventhhourIreappear,throwallintoconfusion,andachievethesupremevictoryinmyownuniquemanner!”
IrealizedthatPoirot’svanitywasofthecase-hardenedvarietywhichcouldwithstandallattacks.Iremindedhimthatonceortwicethehonoursofthegamehadlainwithouradversaries.ButImighthaveknownthatitwasimpossibletodiminishHerculePoirot’senthusiasmforhisownmethods.
“Seeyou,Hastings,itislikethelittletrickthatyouplaywiththecards.Youhaveseenitwithoutdoubt?Youtakethefourknaves,youdividethem,oneontopofthepack,oneunderneath,andsoon—youcutandyoushuffle,andtheretheyarealltogetheragain.Thatismyobject.SofarIhavebeencontending,nowagainstoneoftheBigFour,coup,Idestroythemall!”
“Andhowdoyouproposetogetthemalltogether?”Iasked.
“Byawaitingthesuprememoment.Bylyingperdusuntiltheyarereadytostrike.”
“Thatmaymeanalongwait,”Igrumbled.
“Alwaysimpatient,thegoodHastings!Butno,itwillnotbesolong.Theonemantheywereafraidof—myself—isoutoftheway.Igivethemtwoorthreemonthsatmost.”
HisspeakingofsomeonebeinggotoutofthewayremindedmeofInglesandhistragicdeath,andIrememberedthatIhadnevertoldPoirotaboutthedyingChinamaninSt.Giles’sHospital.
Helistenedwithkeenattentiontomystory.
“Ingles’sservant,eh?AndthefewwordsheutteredwereinItalian?Curious.”
“That’swhyIsuspecteditmighthavebeenaplantonthepartoftheBigFour.”
“Yourreasoningisatfault,Hastings.Employthelittlegreycells.IfyourenemieswishedtodeceiveyoutheywouldassuredlyhaveseentoitthattheChinamanspokeinintelligiblepidginEnglish.No,themessagewasgenuine.Tellmeagainallthatyouheard?”
“FirstofallhemadeareferencetoHandel’sLargo,andthenhesaidsomethingthatsoundedlike‘carrozza’—that’sacarriage,isn’tit?”
“Nothingelse?”
“Well,justattheendhemurmuredsomethinglike‘Cara’somebodyorother—somewoman’sname.Zia,Ithink.ButIdon’tsupposethatthathadanybearingontherestofit.”
“Youwouldnotsupposeso,Hastings.CaraZiaisveryimportant,veryimportantindeed.”
“Idon’tsee—”
“Mydearfriend,youneversee—andanywaytheEnglishknownogeography.”
“Geography?”Icried.“Whathasgeographygottodowithit?”
“IdaresayM.ThomasCookwouldbemoretothepoint.”
Asusual,Poirotrefusedtosayanythingmore—amostirritatingtrickofhis.ButInoticedthathismannerbecameextremelycheerful,asthoughhehadscoredsomepointorother.
Thedayswenton,pleasantifatriflemonotonous.Therewereplentyofbooksinthevilla,anddelightfulramblesallaround,butIchafedsometimesattheforcedinactivityofourlife,andmarvelledatPoirot’sstateofplacidcontent.Nothingoccurredtoruffleourquietexistence,anditwasnotuntiltheendofJune,wellwithinthelimitthatPoirothadgiventhem,thatwehadournewsoftheBigFour.
Acardroveuptothevillaearlyonemorning,suchanunusualeventinourpeacefullifethatIhurrieddowntosatisfymycuriosity.IfoundPoirottalkingtoapleasant-facedyoungfellowofaboutmyownage.
Heintroducedme.
“ThisisCaptainHarvey,Hastings,oneofthemostfamousmembersofyourIntelligenceService.”
“Notfamousatall,I’mafraid,”saidtheyoungman,laughingpleasantly.
“Notfamousexcepttothoseintheknow,Ishouldhavesaid.MostofCaptainHarvey’sfriendsandacquaintancesconsiderhimanamiablebutbrainlessyoungman—devotedonlytothetrotofthefoxorwhateverthedanceiscalled.”
Webothlaughed.
“Well,well,tobusiness,”saidPoirot.“Youareofopinionthetimehascome,then?”
“Wearesureofit,sir.Chinawasisolatedpoliticallyyesterday.Whatisgoingonoutthere,nobodyknows.Nonewsofanykind,wirelessorotherwise,hascomethrough—justacompletebreak—andsilence!”
“LiChangYenhasshownhishand.Andtheothers?”
“AbeRylandarrivedinEnglandaweekago,andleftfortheContinentyesterday.”
“AndMadameOlivier?”
“MadameOlivierleftParislastnight.”
“ForItaly?”
“ForItaly,sir.Asfaraswecanjudge,theyarebothmakingfortheresortyouindicated—thoughhowyouknewthat—”
“Ah,thatisnotthecapwiththefeatherforme!ThatwastheworkofHastingshere.Heconcealshisintelligence,youcomprehend,butitisprofoundforallthat.”
Harveylookedatmewithdueappreciation,andIfeltratheruncomfortable.
“Allisintrain,then,”saidPoirot.Hewaspalenow,andcompletelyserious.“Thetimehascome.Thearrangementsareallmade?”
“Everythingyouorderedhasbeencarriedout.ThegovernmentsofItaly,France,andEnglandarebehindyou,andareallworkingharmoniouslytogether.”
“Itis,infact,anewEntente,”observedPoirotdrily.“IamgladthatDesjardeauxisconvincedatlast.Ehbien,then,wewillstart—orrather,Iwillstart.You,Hastings,willremainhere—yes,Iprayofyou.Inverity,myfriend,Iamserious.”
Ibelievehim,butitwasnotlikelythatIshouldconsenttobeingleftbehindinthatfashion.Ourargumentwasshortbutdecisive.
Itwasnotuntilwewereinthetrain,speedingtowardsParis,thatheadmittedthathewassecretlygladofmydecision.
“Foryouhaveaparttoplay,Hastings.Animportantpart!Withoutyou,Imightwellfail.Nevertheless,Ifeltthatitwasmydutytourgeyoutoremainbehind—”
“Thereisdanger,then?”
“Monami,wherethereistheBigFourthereisalwaysdanger.”
OnarrivalinParis,wedroveacrosstotheGaredel’Est,andPoirotatlastannouncedourdestination.WewereboundforBolzanoandtheItalianTyrol.
DuringHarvey’sabsencefromourcarriageItooktheopportunityofaskingPoirotwhyhehadsaidthatthediscoveryoftherendezvouswasmywork.
“Becauseitwas,myfriend.HowInglesmanagedtogetholdoftheinformationIdonotknow,buthedid,andhesentittousbyhisservant.Wearebound,monami,forKarersee,thenewItaliannameforwhichisLagodiCarrezza.Youseenowwhereyour‘CaraZia’comesinandalsoyour‘Carrozza’and‘Largo’—theHandelwassuppliedbyyourownimagination.Possiblysomereferencetotheinformationcomingfromthe‘hand’ofMr.Inglesstartedthetrainofassociation.”
“Karersee?”Iqueried.“Ineverheardofit.”
“IalwaystellyouthattheEnglishknownogeography.Butasamatteroffactitisawellknownandverybeautifulsummerresort,fourthousandfeetup,intheheartoftheDolomites.”
“AnditisinthisoutofthewayspotthattheBigFourhavetheirrendezvous?”
“Sayrathertheirheadquarters.Thesignalhasbeengiven,anditistheirintentiontodisappearfromtheworldandissueordersfromtheirmountainfastness.Ihavemadetheenquiries—alotofquarryingofstoneandmineraldepositsisdonethere,andthecompany,apparentlyasmallItalianfirm,isinrealitycontrolledbyAbeRyland.Iampreparedtoswearthatavastsubterraneandwellinghasbeenhollowedoutintheveryheartofthemountain,secretandinaccessible.Fromtheretheleadersoftheorganizationwillissuebywirelesstheirorderstotheirfollowerswhoarenumberedbythousandsineverycountry.AndfromthatcragintheDolomitesthedictatorsoftheworldwillemerge.Thatistosay—theywouldemergewereitnotforHerculePoirot.”
“Doyouseriouslybelieveallthis,Poirot?—Whataboutthearmiesandgeneralmachineryofcivilization?”
“WhataboutitinRussia,Hastings?ThiswillbeRussiaonaninfinitelylargerscale—andwiththisadditionalmenace—thatMadameOlivier’sexperimentshaveproceededfurtherthanshehasevergivenout.Ibelievethatshehas,toacertainextent,succeededinliberatingatomicenergyandharnessingittoherpurpose.Herexperimentswiththenitrogenoftheairhavebeenveryremarkable,andshehasalsoexperimentedintheconcentrationofwirelessenergy,sothatabeamofgreatintensitycanbefocuseduponsomegivenspot.Exactlyhowfarshehasprogressed,nobodyknows,butitiscertainthatitismuchfartherthanhaseverbeengivenout.Sheisagenius,thatwoman—theCurieswereasnothingtoher.AddtohergeniusthepowersofRyland’salmostunlimitedwealth,and,withthebrainofLiChangYen,thefinestcriminalbraineverknown,todirectandplan—ehbien,itwillnotbe,asyousay,alljamforcivilization.”
Hiswordsmademeverythoughtful.AlthoughPoirotwasgivenattimestoexaggerationoflanguage,hewasnotreallyanalarmist.ForthefirsttimeIrealizedwhatadesperatestruggleitwasuponwhichwewereengaged.
Harveysoonrejoinedusandthejourneywenton.
WearrivedatBolzanoaboutmidday.Fromtherethejourneyonwasbymotor.Severalbigbluemotorcarswerewaitinginthecentralsquareofthetown,andwethreegotintooneofthem.Poirot,notwithstandingtheheatoftheday,wasmuffledtotheeyesingreatcoatandscarf.Hiseyesandthetipsofhisearswereallthatcouldbeseenofhim.
Ididnotknowwhetherthiswasduetoprecautionatmerelyhisexaggeratedfearofcatchingachill.Themotorjourneytookacoupleofhours.Itwasareallywonderfuldrive.Forthefirstpartofthewaywewoundinandoutofhugecliffs,withatricklingwaterfallononehand.Thenweemergedintoafertilevalley,whichcontinuedforsomemiles,andthen,stillwindingsteadilyupwards,thebarerockpeaksbegantoshowwithdenseclusteringpinewoodsattheirbase.Thewholeplacewaswildandlovely.Finallyaseriesofabruptcurves,withtheroadrunningthroughthepinewoodsoneitherside,andwecamesuddenlyuponabighotelandfoundwehadarrived.
Ourroomshadbeenreservedforus,andunderHarvey’sguidancewewentstraightuptothem.Theylookedstraightoutovertherockypeaksandthelongslopesofpinewoodsleadinguptothem.Poirotmadeagesturetowardsthem.
“Itisthere?”heaskedinalowvoice.
“Yes,”repliedHarvey.“ThereisaplacecalledtheFelsenlabyrinth—allbigboulderspiledaboutinamostfantasticway—apathwindsthroughthem.Thequarryingistotherightofthat,butwethinkthattheentranceisprobablyintheFelsenlabyrinth.”
Poirotnodded.
“Come,monami,”hesaidtome.“Letusgodownandsitupontheterraceandenjoythesunlight.”
“Youthinkthatwise?”Iasked.
Heshruggedhisshoulders.
Thesunlightwasmarvellous—infacttheglarewasalmosttoogreatforme.Wehadsomecreamycoffeeinsteadoftea,thenwentupstairsandunpackedourfewbelongings.Poirotwasinhismostunapproachablemood,lostinakindofreverie.Onceortwiceheshookhisheadandsighed.
IhadbeenratherintriguedbyamanwhohadgotoutofourtrainatBolzano,andhadbeenmetbyaprivatecar.Hewasasmallman,andonethingabouthimthatattractedmyattentionwasthathewasalmostasmuchmuffledupasPoirothadbeen.Moreso,indeed,forinadditiontogreatcoatandmuffler,hewaswearinghugebluespectacles.IwasconvincedthatherewehadanemissaryoftheBigFour.Poirotdidnotseemveryimpressedbymyidea.Butwhen,leaningoutofmybedroomwindow,Ireportedthatthemaninquestionwasstrollingaboutinthevicinityofthehotel,headmittedthattheremightbesomethinginit.
Iurgedmyfriendnottogodowntodinner,butheinsistedondoingso.Weenteredthediningroomratherlate,andwereshowntoatablebythewindow.Aswesatdown,ourattentionwasattractedbyanexclamationandacrashoffallingchina.Adishofharicotsvertshadbeenupsetoveramanwhowassittingatthetablenexttoours.
Theheadwaitercameupandwasvociferousinapologies.
Presently,whentheoffendingwaiterwasservinguswithsoup,Poirotspoketohim.
“Anunfortunateaccident,that.Butitwasnotyourfault.”
“Monsieursawthat?No,indeeditwasnotmyfault.Thegentlemanhalfsprangupfromhischair—Ithoughthewasgoingtohaveanattackofsomekind.Icouldnotsavethecatastrophe.”
IsawPoirot’seyesshiningwiththegreenlightIknewsowell,andasthewaiterdepartedhesaidtomeinalowvoice:
“Yousee,Hastings,theeffectofHerculePoirot—aliveandintheflesh?”
“Youthink—”
Ihadnottimetocontinue.IfeltPoirot’shandonmyknee,ashewhisperedexcitedly:
“Look,Hastings,look.Histrickwiththebread!NumberFour!”
Sureenough,themanatthenexttabletoours,hisfaceunusuallypale,wasdabbingasmallpieceofbreadmechanicallyaboutthetable.
Istudiedhimcarefully.Hisface,clean-shavenandpuffilyfat,wasofapasty,unhealthysallowness,withheavypouchesundertheeyesanddeeplinesrunningfromhisnosetothecornersofhismouth.Hisagemighthavebeenanythingfromthirty-fivetoforty-five.InnoparticulardidheresembleanyoneofthecharacterswhichNumberFourhadpreviouslyassumed.Indeed,haditnotbeenforhislittletrickwiththebread,ofwhichhewasevidentlyquiteunaware,IwouldhaveswornreadilyenoughthatthemansittingtherewassomeonewhomIhadneverseenbefore.
“Hehasrecognizedyou,”Imurmured.“Youshouldnothavecomedown.”
“MyexcellentHastings,Ihavefeigneddeathforthreemonthsforthisonepurpose.”
“TostartleNumberFour?”
“Tostartlehimatamomentwhenhemustactquicklyornotatall.Andwehavethisgreatadvantage—hedoesnotknowthatwerecognizehim.Hethinksthatheissafeinhisnewdisguise.HowIblessFlossieMonrofortellingusofthatlittlehabitofhis.”
“Whatwillhappennow?”Iasked.
“Whatcanhappen?Herecognizestheonlymanhefears,miraculouslyresurrectedfromthedead,attheveryminutewhentheplansoftheBigFourareinthebalance.MadameOlivierandAbeRylandlunchedheretoday,anditisthoughtthattheywenttoCortina.Onlyweknowthattheyhaveretiredtotheirhidingplace.Howmuchdoweknow?ThatiswhatNumberFourisaskinghimselfatthisminute.Hedaretakenorisks.Imustbesuppressedatallcosts.Ehbien,lethimtrytosuppressHerculePoirot!Ishallbereadyforhim.”
Ashefinishedspeaking,themanatthenexttablegotupandwentout.
“Hehasgonetomakehislittlearrangements,”saidPoirotplacidly.“Shallwehaveourcoffeeontheterrace,myfriend?Itwouldbepleasanter,Ithink.Iwilljustgoupandgetacoat.”
Iwentoutontotheterrace,alittledisturbedinmind.Poirot’sassurancedidnotquitecontentme.However,solongaswewereonguard,nothingcouldhappentous.Iresolvedtokeepthoroughlyonthealert.
ItwasquitefiveminutesbeforePoirotjoinedme.Withhisusualprecautionsagainstcold,hewasmuffleduptotheears.Hesatdownbesidemeandsippedhiscoffeeappreciatively.
“OnlyinEnglandisthecoffeesoatrocious,”heremarked.“OntheContinenttheyunderstandhowimportantitisforthedigestionthatitshouldbeproperlymade.”
Ashefinishedspeaking,themanfromthenexttablesuddenlyappearedontheterrace.Withoutanyhesitation,hecameoveranddrewupathirdchairtoourtable.
“Youdonotmindmyjoiningyou,Ihope,”hesaidinEnglish.
“Notatall,monsieur,”saidPoirot.
Ifeltveryuneasy.Itistruethatwewereontheterraceofthehotel,withpeopleallaroundus,butneverthelessIwasnotsatisfied.Isensedthepresenceofdanger.
MeanwhileNumberFourchattedawayinaperfectlynaturalmanner.Itseemedimpossibletobelievethathewasanythingbutabonafidetourist.Hedescribedexcursionsandmotortrips,andposedasquiteanauthorityontheneighbourhood.
Hetookapipefromhispocketandbegantolightit.Poirotdrewouthiscaseoftinycigarettes.Asheplacedonebetweenhislips,thestrangerleantforwardwithamatch.
“Letmegiveyoualight.”
Ashespoke,withouttheleastwarning,allthelightswentout.Therewasachinkofglass,andsomethingpungentundermynose,suffocatingme—
Eighteen
INTHEFELSENLABYRINTH
Icouldnothavebeenunconsciousmorethanaminute.Icametomyselfbeinghustledalongbetweentwomen.Theyhadmeundereacharm,supportingmyweight,andtherewasagaginmymouth.Itwaspitchdark,butIgatheredthatwewerenotoutside,butpassingthroughthehotel.AllroundIcouldhearpeopleshoutinganddemandingineveryknownlanguagewhathadhappenedtothelights.Mycaptorsswungmedownsomestairs.Wepassedalongabasementpassage,thenthroughadoorandoutintotheopenagainthroughaglassdooratthebackofthehotel.Inanothermomentwehadgainedtheshelterofthepinetrees.
Ihadcaughtaglimpseofanotherfigureinasimilarplighttomyself,andrealizedthatPoirot,too,wasavictimofthisboldcoup
Bysheeraudacity,NumberFourhadwontheday.Hehademployed,Igathered,aninstantanaesthetic,probablyethylchloride—breakingasmallbulbofitunderournoses.Then,intheconfusionofthedarkness,hisaccomplices,whohadprobablybeenguestssittingatthenexttable,hadthrustgagsinourmouthsandhurriedusaway,takingusthroughthehoteltobafflepursuit.
Icannotdescribethehourthatfollowed.Wewerehurriedthroughthewoodsatabreakneckpace,goinguphillthewholetime.Atlastweemergedintheopen,onthemountainside,andIsawjustinfrontofusanextraordinaryconglomerationoffantasticrocksandboulders.
ThismustbetheFelsenlabyrinthofwhichHarveyhadspoken.Soonwewerewindinginandoutofitsrecesses.Theplacewaslikeamazedevisedbysomeevilgenie.
Suddenlywestopped.Anenormousrockbarredourpath.Oneofthemenstoppedandseemedtopushonsomethingwhen,withoutasound,thehugemassofrockturnedonitselfanddisclosedasmalltunnellikeopeningleadingintothemountainside.
Intothiswewerehurried.Forsometimethetunnelwasnarrow,butpresentlyitwidened,andbeforeverylongwecameoutintoawiderockychamberlightedbyelectricity.Thenthegagswereremoved.AtasignfromNumberFour,whostoodfacinguswithmockingtriumphinhisface,weweresearchedandeveryarticlewasremovedfromourpockets,includingPoirot’slittleautomaticpistol.
Apangsmotemeasitwastosseddownonthetable.Weweredefeated—hopelesslydefeatedandoutnumbered.Itwastheend.
“WelcometotheheadquartersoftheBigFour,M.HerculePoirot,”saidNumberFourinamockingtone.“Tomeetyouagainisanunexpectedpleasure.Butwasitworthwhilereturningfromthegraveonlyforthis?”
Poirotdidnotreply.Idarednotlookathim.
“Comethisway,”continuedNumberFour.“Yourarrivalwillbesomewhatofasurprisetomycolleagues.”
Heindicatedanarrowdoorwayinthewall.Wepassedthroughandfoundourselvesinanotherchamber.Attheveryendofitwasatablebehindwhichfourchairswereplaced.Theendchairwasempty,butitwasdrapedwithamandarin’scape.Onthesecond,smokingacigar,satMr.AbeRyland.Leaningbackonthethirdchair,withherburningeyesandhernun’sface,wasMadameOlivier.NumberFourtookhisseatonthefourthchair.
WewereinthepresenceoftheBigFour
NeverbeforehadIfeltsofullytherealityandthepresenceofLiChangYenasIdidnowwhenconfrontinghisemptyseat.FarawayinChina,heyetcontrolledanddirectedthismalignorganization.
MadameOliviergaveafaintcryonseeingus.Ryland,moreself-controlled,onlyshiftedhiscigar,andraisedhisgrizzledeyebrows.
“M.HerculePoirot,”saidRylandslowly.“Thisisapleasantsurprise.Youputitoveronusallright.Wethoughtyouweregoodandburied.Nomatter,thegameisupnow.”
Therewasaringasofsteelinhisvoice.MadameOliviersaidnothing,buthereyesburned,andIdislikedtheslowwayshesmiled.
“Madameandmessieurs,Iwishyougoodevening,”saidPoirotquietly.
Somethingunexpected,somethingIhadnotbeenpreparedtohearinhisvoicemademelookathim.Heseemedquitecomposed.Yettherewassomethingabouthiswholeappearancethatwasdifferent.
Thentherewasastirofdraperiesbehindus,andtheCountessVeraRossakoffcamein.
“Ah!”saidNumberFour.“Ourvaluedandtrustedlieutenant.Anoldfriendofyoursishere,mydearlady.”
Thecountesswhirledroundwithherusualvehemenceofmovement.
“GodinHeaven!”shecried.“Itisthelittleman!Ah!buthehastheninelivesofacat!Oh,littleman,littleman!Whydidyoumixyourselfupinthis?”
“Madame,”saidPoirotwithabow.“Me,likethegreatNapoleon,Iamonthesideofthebigbattalions.”
AshespokeIsawasuddensuspicionflashintohereyes,andatthesamemomentIknewthetruthwhichsubconsciouslyIalreadysensed.
ThemanbesidemewasnotHerculePoirot.
Hewasverylikehim,extraordinarilylikehim.Therewasthesameegg-shapedhead,thesamestruttingfigure,delicatelyplump.Butthevoicewasdifferent,andtheeyesinsteadofbeinggreenweredark,andsurelythemoustaches—thosefamousmoustaches—?
Myreflectionswerecutshortbythecountess’svoice.Shesteppedforward,hervoiceringingwithexcitement.
“Youhavebeendeceived.ThismanisnotHerculePoirot!”
NumberFourutteredanincredulousexclamation,butthecountessleantforwardandsnatchedatPoirot’smoustaches.Theycameoffinherhand,andthen,indeed,thetruthwasplain.Forthisman’supperlipwasdisfiguredbyasmallscarwhichcompletelyalteredtheexpressionoftheface.
“NotHerculePoirot,”mutteredNumberFour.“Butwhocanhebethen?”
“Iknow,”Icriedsuddenly,andthenstoppeddead,afraidIhadruinedeverything.
ButthemanIwillstillrefertoasPoirothadturnedtomeencouragingly.
“Sayitifyouwill.Itmakesnomatternow.Thetrickhassucceeded.”
“ThisisAchillePoirot,”Isaidslowly.“HerculePoirot’stwinbrother.”
“Impossible,”saidRylandsharply,buthewasshaken.
“Hercule’splanhassucceededtoamarvel,”saidAchilleplacidly.
NumberFourleaptforward,hisvoiceharshandmenacing.
“Succeeded,hasit?”hesnarled.“Doyourealizethatbeforemanyminuteshavepassedyouwillbedead—dead?”
“Yes,”saidAchillePoirotgravely.“Irealizethat.Itisyouwhodonotrealizethatamanmaybewillingtopurchasesuccessbyhislife.Thereweremenwholaiddowntheirlivesfortheircountryinthewar.Iampreparedtolaydownmineinthesamewayfortheworld.”
ItstruckmejustthenthatalthoughperfectlywillingtolaydownmylifeImighthavebeenconsultedinthematter.ThenIrememberedhowPoirothadurgedmetostaybehindandIfeltappeased.
“Andinwhatwaywillyourlayingdownyourlifebenefittheworld?”askedRylandsardonically.
“IseethatyoudonotperceivethetrueinwardnessofHercule’splan.Tobeginwith,yourplaceofretreatwasknownsomemonthsago,andpracticallyallthevisitors,hotelassistants,andothersaredetectivesorSecretServicemen.Acordonhasbeendrawnroundthemountain.Youmayhavemorethanonemeansofegress,butevensoyoucannotescape.Poirothimselfisdirectingtheoperationsoutside.Mybootsweresmearedwithapreparationofaniseedtonight,beforeIcamedowntotheterraceinmybrother’splace.Houndsarefollowingthetrail.ItwillleadtheminfalliblytotherockintheFelsenlabyrinthwheretheentranceissituated.Yousee,dowhatyouwilltous,thenetisdrawntightlyroundyou.Youcannotescape.”
MadameOlivierlaughedsuddenly.
“Youarewrong.Thereisonewaywecanescape,and,likeSamson,ofold,destroyourenemiesatthesametime.Whatdoyousay,myfriends?”
RylandwasstaringatAchillePoirot.
“Supposehe’slying,”hesaidhoarsely.
Theothershruggedhisshoulders.
“Inanhouritwillbedawn.Thenyoucanseeforyourselfthetruthofmywords.AlreadytheyshouldhavetracedmetotheentranceintheFelsenlabyrinth.”
Evenashespoke,therewasafar-offreverberation,andamanraninshoutingincoherently.Rylandsprangupandwentout.MadameOliviermovedtotheendoftheroomandopenedadoorthatIhadnotnoticed.InsideIcaughtaglimpseofaperfectlyequippedlaboratorywhichremindedmeoftheoneinParis.NumberFouralsosprangupandwentout.HereturnedwithPoirot’srevolverwhichhegavetothecountess.
“Thereisnodangeroftheirescaping,”hesaidgrimly.“Butstillyouhadbetterhavethis.”
Thenhewentoutagain.
Thecountesscameovertousandsurveyedmycompanionattentivelyforsometime.Suddenlyshelaughed.
“Youareveryclever,M.AchillePoirot,”shesaidmockingly.
“Madame,letustalkbusiness.Itisfortunatethattheyhaveleftusalonetogether.Whatisyourprice?”
“Idonotunderstand.Whatprice?”
“Madame,youcanaidustoescape.Youknowthesecretwayoutofthisretreat.Iaskyou,whatisyourprice?”
Shelaughedagain.
“Morethanyoucouldpay,littleman!Why,allthemoneyintheworldwouldnotbuyme!”
“Madame,Ididnotspeakofmoney.Iamamanofintelligence.Nevertheless,thisisatruefact—everyonehashisprice!Inexchangeforlifeandliberty,Iofferyouyourheart’sdesire.”
“Soyouareamagician!”
“Youcancallmesoifyoulike.”
Thecountesssuddenlydroppedherjestingmanner.Shespokewithpassionatebitterness.
“Fool!Myheart’sdesire!Canyougivemerevengeuponmyenemies?Canyougivemebackyouthandbeautyandagayheart?Canyoubringthedeadtolifeagain?”
AchillePoirotwaswatchingherverycuriously.
“Whichofthethree,Madame?Makeyourchoice.”
Shelaughedsardonically.
“YouwillsendmetheElixirofLife,perhaps?Come,Iwillmakeabargainwithyou.Once,Ihadachild.Findmychildforme—andyoushallgofree.”
“Madame,Iagree.Itisabargain.Yourchildshallberestoredtoyou.Onthefaithof—onthefaithofHerculePoirothimself.”
Againthatstrangewomanlaughed—thistimelongandunrestrainedly.
“MydearM.Poirot,IamafraidIlaidalittletrapforyou.Itisverykindofyoutopromisetofindmychildforme,but,yousee,Ihappentoknowthatyouwouldnotsucceed,andsothatwouldbeaveryone-sidedbargain,woulditnot?”
“Madame,IsweartoyoubytheHolyAngelsthatIwillrestoreyourchildtoyou.”
“Iaskedyoubefore,M.Poirot,couldyourestorethedeadtolife?”
“Thenthechildis—”
“Dead?Yes.”
Hesteppedforwardandtookherwrist.
“Madame,I—Iwhospeaktoyou,swearoncemore.Iwillbringthedeadbacktolife.”
Shestaredathimasthoughfascinated.
“Youdonotbelieveme.Iwillprovemywords.Getmypocketbookwhichtheytookfromme.”
Shewentoutoftheroom,andreturnedwithitinherhand.Throughoutallsheretainedhergripontherevolver.IfeltthatAchillePoirot’schancesofbluffingherwereveryslight.TheCountessVeraRossakoffwasnofool.
“Openit,madame.Theflapontheleft-handside.Thatisright.Nowtakeoutthatphotographandlookatit.”
Wonderingly,shetookoutwhatseemedtobeasmallsnapshot.Nosoonerhadshelookedatitthansheutteredacryandswayedasthoughabouttofall.Thenshealmostflewatmycompanion.
“Where?Where?Youshalltellme.Where?”
“Rememberyourbargain,madame.”
“Yes,yes,Iwilltrustyou.Quick,beforetheycomeback.”
Catchinghimbythehand,shedrewhimquicklyandsilentlyoutoftheroom.Ifollowed.Fromtheouterroomsheledusintothetunnelbywhichwehadfirstentered,butashortwayalongthisforked,andsheturnedofftotheright.Againandagainthepassagedivided,butsheleduson,neverfalteringorseemingtodoubtherway,andwithincreasingspeed.
“Ifonlyweareintime,”shepanted.“Wemustbeoutintheopenbeforetheexplosionoccurs.”
Stillwewenton.Iunderstoodthatthistunnelledrightthroughthemountainandthatweshouldfinallyemergeontheotherside,facingadifferentvalley.Thesweatstreameddownmyface,butIracedon.
Andthen,faraway,Isawagleamofdaylight.Nearerandnearer.Isawgreenbushesgrowing.Weforcedthemaside,pushedourwaythrough.Wewereintheopenagain,withthefaintlightofdawnmakingeverythingrosy.
Poirot’scordonwasareality.Evenasweemerged,threemenfelluponus,butreleasedusagainwithacryofastonishment.
“Quick,”criedmycompanion.“Quick—thereisnotimetolose—”
Buthewasnotdestinedtofinish.Theearthshookandtrembledunderourfeet,therewasaterrificroarandthewholemountainseemedtodissolve.Wewereflungheadlongthroughtheair.
Icametomyselfatlast.Iwasinastrangebedandastrangeroom.Someonewassittingbythewindow.Heturnedandcameandstoodbyme.
ItwasAchillePoirot—or,stay,wasit—
Thewell-knownironicalvoicedispelledanydoubtsImighthavehad.
“Butyes,myfriend,itis.BrotherAchillehasgonehomeagain—tothelandofmyths.ItwasIallthetime.ItisnotonlyNumberFourwhocanactapart.Belladonnaintheeyes,thesacrificeofthemoustaches,andarealscartheinflictingofwhichcausedmemuchpaintwomonthsago—butIcouldnotriskafakebeneaththeeagleeyesofNumberFour.Andthefinaltouch,yourownknowledgeandbeliefthattherewassuchapersonasAchillePoirot!Itwasinvaluable,theassistanceyourenderedme,halfthesuccessofthecoupisduetoyou!ThewholecruxoftheaffairwastomakethembelievethatHerculePoirotwasstillatlargedirectingoperations.Otherwise,everythingwastrue,theaniseed,thecordon,etc.”
“Butwhynotreallysendasubstitute?”
“Andletyougointodangerwithoutmebyyourside?Youhaveaprettyideaofmethere!Besides,Ialwayshadahopeoffindingawayoutthroughthecountess.”
“Howonearthdidyoumanagetoconvinceher?Itwasaprettythinstorytomakeherswallow—allthataboutadeadchild.”
“Thecountesshasagreatdealmoreperspicacitythanyouhave,mydearHastings.Shewastakeninatfirstbymydisguise;butshesoonsawthroughit.Whenshesaid,‘Youareveryclever,M.AchillePoirot,’Iknewthatshehadguessedthetruth.Itwasthenornevertoplaymytrumpcard.”
“Allthatrigmaroleaboutbringingthedeadtolife?”
“Exactly—butthen,yousee,Ihadthechildallalong.”
“What?”
“Butyes!Youknowmymotto—Beprepared.AssoonasIfoundthattheCountessRossakoffwasmixedupwiththeBigFour,Ihadeverypossibleinquirymadeastoherantecedents.Ilearntthatshehadhadachildwhowasreportedtohavebeenkilled,andIalsofoundthattherewerediscrepanciesinthestorywhichledmetowonderwhetheritmightnot,afterall,bealive.Intheend,Isucceededintracingtheboy,andbypayingoutabigsumIobtainedpossessionofthechild’sperson.Thepoorlittlefellowwasnearlydeadofstarvation.Iplacedhiminasafeplace,withkindlypeople,andtookasnapshotofhiminhisnewsurroundings.Andso,whenthetimecame,Ihadmylittlecoupdethéatreallready!”
“Youarewonderful,Poirot;absolutelywonderful!”
“Iwasgladtodoit,too.ForIhadadmiredthecountess.Ishouldhavebeensorryifshehadperishedintheexplosion.”
“I’vebeenhalfafraidtoaskyou—whatoftheBigFour?”
“Allthebodieshavenowbeenrecovered.ThatofNumberFourwasquiteunrecognizable,theheadblowntopieces.Iwish—Iratherwishithadnotbeenso.Ishouldhavelikedtobesure—butnomoreofthat.Lookatthis.”
Hehandedmeanewspaperinwhichaparagraphwasmarked.Itreportedthedeath,bysuicide,ofLiChangYen,whohadengineeredtherecentrevolutionwhichhadfailedsodisastrously.
“Mygreatopponent,”saidPoirotgravely.“ItwasfatedthatheandIshouldnevermeetintheflesh.Whenhereceivedthenewsofthedisasterhere,hetookthesimplestwayout.Agreatbrain,myfriend,agreatbrain.ButIwishIhadseenthefaceofthemanwhowasNumberFour…Supposingthat,afterall—butIromance.Heisdead.Yes,monami,togetherwehavefacedandroutedtheBigFour;andnowyouwillreturntoyourcharmingwife,andI—Ishallretire.Thegreatcaseofmylifeisover.Anythingelsewillseemtameafterthis.No,Ishallretire.PossiblyIshallgrowvegetablemarrows!Imightevenmarryandarrangemyself!”
Helaughedheartilyattheidea,butwithatouchofembarrassment.Ihope…smallmenalwaysadmirebig,flamboyantwomen—
“Marryandarrangemyself,”hesaidagain.“Whoknows?”
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEHERCULEPOIROTMYSTERIES
MatchyourwitswiththefamousBelgiandetective.
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEMISSMARPLEMYSTERIES
JointhelegendaryspinstersleuthfromSt.MaryMeadinsolvingmurdersfarandwide.
TheMurderattheVicaragTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50FromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSideACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
THETOMMYANDTUPPENCEMYSTERIES
Jumponboardwiththeentertainingcrime-solvingcouplefromYoungAdventurersLtd.
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
Don’tmissasingleoneofAgathaChristie’sstand-alonenovelsandshort-storycollections.
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMr.QuinTheSittafordMysteryParkerPyneInvestigatesWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?MurderIsEasyTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStoriesAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideTheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStoriesCrookedHouseThreeBlindMiceandOtherStoriesTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownOrdealbyInnocenceDoubleSinandOtherStoriesThePaleHorseStaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStoriesEndlessNightPassengertoFrankfurtTheGoldenBallandOtherStoriesTheMousetrapandOtherPlaysTheHarlequinTeaSet
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AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
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THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSet
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMews
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderdogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSide
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiography
Come,TellMeHowYouLive
Credits
CoverdesignandillustrationbyFaithLaurel
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
AGATHACHRISTIE?POIROT?THEBIGFOUR?.Copyright?1927AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.
THEBIGFOUR?1927.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.Allrightsreserved.PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica.Nopartofthisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanymannerwhatsoeverwithoutwrittenpermissionexceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedincriticalarticlesandreviews.Forinformation,addressHarperCollinsPublishers,10East53rdStreet,NewYork,NY10022.
Formoreinformationabouteducationaluse,teachersshouldvisitwww.HarperAcademic.com.
FIRSTHARPERPAPERBACKPUBLISHED2011.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.
EPubEdition?AUGUST2011ISBN:978-0-06-173909-5
1112131415
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Contents
One:TheUnexpectedGuest
Two:TheManfromtheAsylum
Three:WeHearMoreAboutLiChangYen
Four:TheImportanceofaLegofMutton
Five:DisappearanceofaScientist
Six:TheWomanontheStairs
Seven:TheRadiumThieves
Eight:IntheHouseoftheEnemy
Nine:TheYellowJasmineMystery
Ten:WeInvestigateatCroftlands
Eleven:AChessProblem
Twelve:TheBaitedTrap
Thirteen:TheMouseWalksIn
Fourteen:ThePeroxideBlonde
Fifteen:TheTerribleCatastrophe
Sixteen:TheDyingChinaman
Seventeen:NumberFourWinsaTrick
Eighteen:InTheFelsenlabyrinth
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Credits
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
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