Big Four - Agatha Christie [3]
‘I’ll do my best, Poirot,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll try to be an efficient substitute.’
‘Ye-es.’
His rejoinder struck me as being a shade doubtful. I picked up the sheet of paper.
‘If I were writing a story,’ I said lightly, ‘I should weave this in with your latest idiosyncrasy and call it The Mystery of the Big Four.’ I tapped the pencilled figures as I spoke.
And then I started, for our invalid, roused suddenly from his stupor, sat up in his chair and said clearly and distinctly:
‘Li Chang Yen.’
He had the look of a man suddenly awakened from sleep. Poirot made a sign to me not to speak. The man went on. He spoke in a clear, high voice, and something in his enunciation made me feel that he was quoting from some written report or lecture.
‘Li Chang Yen may be regarded as representing the brains of the Big Four. He is the controlling and motive force. I have designated him, therefore, as Number One. Number Two is seldom mentioned by name. He is represented by an “S” with two lines through it—the sign for 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. There seems no doubt that Number Three is a woman, and her nationality French. It is possible that she may be one of the sirens of the demi-monde, but nothing is known definitely. Number Four—’
His voice faltered and broke. Poirot leant forward.
‘Yes,’ he prompted eagerly, ‘Number Four?’
His eyes were fastened on the man’s face. Some overmastering terror seemed to be gaining the day; the features were distorted and twisted.
‘The destroyer,’ gasped the man. Then, with a final convulsed movement, he fell back in a dead faint.
‘Mon Dieu!’ whispered Poirot, ‘I was right then. I was right.’
‘You think—?’
He interrupted me.
‘Carry him on to the bed in my room. I have not a minute to lose if I would catch my train. Not that I want to catch it. Oh, that I could miss it with a clear conscience! But I gave my word. Come, Hastings!’
Leaving our mysterious visitor in the charge of Mrs Pearson, we drove away, and duly caught the train by the skin of our teeth. Poirot was alternately silent and loquacious. He would sit staring out of the window like a man lost in a dream, apparently not hearing a word that I said to him. Then, reverting to animation suddenly, he would shower injunctions and commands upon me, and urge the necessity of constant marconigrams.
We had a long fit of silence just after we passed Woking. The train, of course, did not stop anywhere until Southampton; but just here it happened to be held up by a signal.
‘Ah! Sacré mille tonnerres!’ cried Poirot suddenly. ‘But I have been an imbecile. I see clearly at last. It is undoubtedly the blessed saints who stopped the train. Jump, Hastings, but jump, I tell you.’
In an instant he had unfastened the carriage door, and jumped out on the line.
‘Throw out the suitcases and jump yourself.’
I obeyed him. Just in time. As I alighted beside him, the train moved on.
‘And now, Poirot,’ I said, in some exasperation, ‘perhaps you will tell me what all this is about.’
‘It is, my friend, that I have seen the light.’
‘That,’ I said, ‘is very illuminating to me.’
‘It should be,’ said Poirot, ‘but I fear—I very much fear that it is not. If you can carry two of these valises, I think I can manage the rest.’
Chapter 2
The Man from the Asylum
Fortunately the train had stopped near a station. A short walk brought us to a garage where we were able to obtain a car, and half an hour later we were spinning rapidly back to London. Then, and not till then, did Poirot deign to satisfy my curiosity.
‘You do not see? No more did I. But I see now. Hastings, I was being got out of the way.’
‘What!’
‘Yes. Very cleverly. Both the place and the method were chosen with great knowledge and acumen. They were afraid of me.’
‘Who were?’
‘Those four geniuses who have banded themselves together to work outside the law. A Chinaman, an American, a Frenchwoman, and—another. Pray the good