Big Four - Agatha Christie [24]
Slowly, with shaking hands, and rage and hate convulsing her face, she bent down and did his bidding. I was free. Poirot’s voice gave me instructions.
‘Your bonds will now do for the lady, Hastings. That is right. Is she securely fastened? Then release me, I pray of you. It is a fortunate circumstance she sent away her henchmen. With a little luck we may hope to find the way out unobstructed.’
In another minute, Poirot stood by my side. He bowed to the lady.
‘Hercule Poirot is not killed so easily, madame. I wish you good-night.’
The gag prevented her from replying, but the murderous gleam in her eyes frightened me. I hoped devoutly that we should never fall into her power again.
Three minutes later we were outside the villa, and hurriedly traversing the garden. The road outside was deserted, and we were soon clear of the neighbourhood.
Then Poirot broke out.
‘I deserve all that that woman said to me. I am a triple imbecile, a miserable animal, thirty-six times an idiot. I was proud of myself for not falling into their trap. And it was not even meant as a trap—except exactly in the way in which I fell into it. They knew I would see through it—they counted on my seeing through it. This explains all—the ease with which they surrendered. Halliday—everything. Madame Olivier was the ruling spirit—Vera Rossakoff only her lieutenant. Madame needs Halliday’s ideas—she herself had the necessary genius to supply the gaps that perplexed him. Yes, Hastings, we know now who Number Three is—the woman who is probably the greatest scientist in the world! Think of it. The brain of the East, the science of the West—and two others whose identities we do not yet know. But we must find out. Tomorrow we will return to London and set about it.’
‘You are not going to denounce Madame Olivier to the police?’
‘I should not be believed. The woman is one of the idols of France. And we can prove nothing. We are lucky if she does not denounce us.’
‘What?’
‘Think of it. We are found at night upon the premises with keys in our possession which she will swear she never gave us. She surprises us at the safe, and we gag and bind her and make away. Have no illusions, Hastings. The boot is not upon the right leg—is that how you say it?’
Chapter 8
In the House of the Enemy
After our adventure in the villa at Passy, we returned post-haste to London. Several letters were awaiting Poirot. He read one of them with a curious smile, and then handed it to me.
‘Read this, mon ami.’
I turned first to the signature, ‘Abe Ryland’, and recalled Poirot’s words: ‘the richest man in the world’. Mr Ryland’s letter was curt and incisive. He expressed himself as profoundly dissatisfied with the reason Poirot had given for withdrawing from the South American proposition at the last moment.
‘This gives one furiously to think, does it not?’ said Poirot.
‘I suppose it’s only natural he should be a bit ratty.’
‘No, no, you comprehend not. Remember the words of Mayerling, the man who took refuge here—only to die by the hands of his enemies. “Number Two is represented by an ‘S’ with two lines through it—the sign of a dollar; also by two stripes and a star. It may be conjectured therefore that he is an American subject, and that he represents the power of wealth.” Add to those words the fact that Ryland offered me a huge sum to tempt me out of England—and—and what about it, Hastings?’
‘You mean,’ I said, staring, ‘that you suspect Abe Ryland, the multi-millionaire, of being Number Two of the Big Four.’
‘Your bright intellect has grasped the idea, Hastings. Yes, I do. The tone in which you said multi-millionaire was eloquent but let me impress upon you one fact