The Big Four
wavered. She is waiting for you--she and the child."
"Thank God for that. I can hardly believe that I am free once more."
"Now that you are a little recovered, monsieur, I should like to hear
the whole story from the beginning."
Halliday looked at him with an indescribable expression.
"I remember--nothing," he said.
"What?"
"Have you ever heard of the Big Four?"
"Something of them," said Poirot dryly.
"You do not know what I know. They have unlimited power. If I remain
silent, I shall be safe--if I say one word--not only I, but my nearest
and dearest will suffer unspeakable things. It is no good arguing with
me. _I know_.... I remember--nothing."
And, getting up, he walked from the room.
* * * * *
Poirot's face wore a baffled expression.
"So it is like that, is it?" he muttered. "The Big Four win again. What
is that you are holding in your hand, Hastings?"
I handed it to him.
"The countess scribbled it before she left," I explained.
He read it.
"Au revoir.--I.V."
"Signed with her initials--I.V. Just a coincidence, perhaps, that they
also stand for _Four_. I wonder, Hastings, I wonder."
7. THE RADIUM THIEVES
On the night of his release, Halliday slept in the room next to ours at
the hotel, and all night long I heard him moaning and protesting in his
sleep. Undoubtedly his experience in the villa had broken his nerve,
and in the morning we failed completely to extract any information from
him. He would only repeat his statement about the unlimited power at
the disposal of the Big Four, and his assurance of the vengeance which
would follow if he talked.
After lunch he departed to rejoin his wife in England, but Poirot and I
remained behind in Paris. I was all for energetic proceedings of some
kind or other, and Poirot's quiescence annoyed me.
"For Heaven's sake, Poirot," I urged, "let us be up and at them."
"Admirable, _mon ami_, admirable! Up where, and at whom? Be
precise, I beg of you."
"At the Big Four, of course."
"_Cela va sans dire._ But how would you set about it?"
"The police," I hazarded doubtfully.
Poirot smiled.
"They would accuse us of romancing. We have nothing to go upon--nothing
whatever. We must wait."
"Wait for what?"
"Wait for them to make a move. See now, in England you all comprehend
and adore _la boxe_. If one man does not make a move, the other
must, and by permitting the adversary to make the attack one learns
something about him. That is our part--to let the other side make the
attack."
"You think they will?" I said doubtfully.
"I have no doubt whatever of it. To begin with, see, they try to get me
out of England. That fails. Then, in the Dartmoor affair, we step in
and save their victim from the gallows. And yesterday, once again, we
interfere with their plans. Assuredly, they will not leave the matter
there."
As I reflected on this, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting
for a reply, a man stepped into the room and closed the door behind
him. He was a tall, thin man, with a slightly hooked nose and a sallow
complexion. He wore an overcoat buttoned up to his chin, and a soft hat
well pulled down over his eyes.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, for my somewhat unceremonious entry," he said in
a soft voice, "but my business is of a rather unorthodox nature."
Smiling, he advanced to the table and sat down by it. I was about to
spring up, but Poirot restrained me with a gesture.
"As you say, Monsieur, your entry is somewhat unceremonious. Will you
kindly state your business?"
"My dear M. Poirot, it is very simple. You have been annoying my
friends."
"In what way?"
"Come, come, Monsieur Poirot. You do not seriously ask me that? You
know as well as I do."
"It depends, monsieur, upon who these friends of yours are."
Without a word, the man drew from his pocket a cigarette case, and,
opening it, took out four cigarettes and tossed them on the table. Then
he picked them up and returned them to his case, which he replaced in
his pocket.
"Aha!" said Poirot, "so it is like that, is it? And what do your
friends suggest?"
"They suggest, monsieur, that you should employ your talents--your very
considerable talents--in the detection of legitimate crime--return
to your former avocations, and solve the problems of London society
ladies."
"A peaceful programme," said Poirot. "And supposing I do not agree?"
The man made an eloquent gesture.
"We should regret it, of course, exceedingly," he said. "So would all
the friends and admirers of the great M. Hercule Poirot. But regrets,
however poignant, do not bring a man to life again."
"Put very delicately," said Poirot, nodding his head. "And supposing
I--accept?"
"In that case I am empowered to offer you--compensation."
He drew out a pocket-book, and threw ten notes on the table. They were
for ten thousand francs each.
"That is merely as a guarantee of our good faith," he said. "Ten times
that amount will be paid you."
"Good God," I cried, springing up, "you dare to think--!"
"Sit down, Hastings," said Poirot autocratically. "Subdue your so
beautiful and honest nature and sit down. To you, monsieur, I will say
this. What is to prevent me ringing up the police and giving you into
their custody, whilst my friend here prevents you from escaping?"
"By all means do so if you think it advisable," said our visitor calmly.
"Oh! look here, Poirot," I cried. "I can't stand this. Ring up the
police and have done with it."
Rising swiftly, I strode to the door and stood with my back against it.
"It seems the obvious course," murmured Poirot, as though debating with
himself.
"But you distrust the obvious, eh?" said our visitor, smiling.
"Go on, Poirot," I urged.
"It will be your responsibility, _mon ami_."
As he lifted the receiver, the man made a sudden, cat-like jump at
me. I was ready for him. In another minute we were locked together,
staggering round the room. Suddenly I felt him slip and falter. I
pressed my advantage. He went down before me. And then, in the very
flush of victory, an extraordinary thing happened. I felt myself flying
forwards. Head first, I crashed into the wall in a complicated heap.
I was up in a minute, but the door was already closing behind my late
adversary. I rushed to it and shook it, it was locked on the outside. I
seized the telephone from Poirot.
"Is that the bureau? Stop a man who is coming out. A tall man, with a
buttoned-up overcoat and a soft hat. He is wanted by the police."
Very few minutes elapsed before we heard a noise in the corridor
outside. The key was turned and the door flung open. The manager
himself stood in the doorway.
"The man--you have got him?" I cried.
"No, monsieur. No one has descended."
"You must have passed him."
"We have passed no one, monsieur. It is incredible that he can have
escaped."
"You have passed some one, I think," said Poirot, in his gentle voice.
"One of the hotel staff, perhaps?"
"Only a waiter carrying a tray, monsieur."
"Ah!" said Poirot, in a tone that spoke infinities.
"So that was why he wore his overcoat buttoned up to his chin," mused
Poirot, when we had finally got rid of the excited hotel officials.
"I'm awfully sorry, Poirot," I murmured, rather crestfallen. "I thought
I'd downed him all right."
"Yes, that was a Japanese trick, I fancy. Do not distress yourself,
_mon ami_. All went according to plan--his plan. That is what I
wanted."
"What's this?" I cried, pouncing on a brown object that lay on the
floor.
It was a slim pocket-book of brown leather, and had evidently fallen
from our visitor's pocket during his struggle with me. It contained
two receipted bills in the name of M. Felix Laon, and a folded-up
piece of paper which made my heart beat faster. It was a half sheet of
note-paper on which a few words were scrawled in pencil but they were
words of supreme importance.
"The next meeting of the council will be on Friday at 34 Rue des
Echelles at 11 a.m."
It was signed with a big figure 4.
And to-day was Friday, and the clock on the mantelpiece showed the hour
to be 10:30.
"My God, what a chance!" I cried. "Fate is playing into our hands. We
must start at once--though. What stupendous luck."
"So that was why he came," murmured Poirot. "I see it all now."
"See what? Come on, Poirot, don't stay daydreaming there."
Poirot looked at me, and slowly shook his head, smiling as he did so.
"'Will you walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly?' That
is your little English nursery rhyme, is it not? No, no--they are
subtle--but not so subtle as Hercule Poirot."
"What on earth are you driving at, Poirot?"
"My friend, I have been asking myself the reason of this morning's
visit. Did our visitor really hope to succeed in bribing me? Or,
alternatively, in frightening me into abandoning my task? It seemed
hardly credible. Why, then, did he come? And now I see the whole
plan--very neat--very pretty--the ostensible reason to bribe or
frighten me--the necessary struggle which he took no pains to
avoid, and which should make the dropped pocket-book natural and
reasonable--and finally--the pitfall! Rue des Echelles, 11 a.m.? I
think not, _mon ami_! One does not catch Hercule Poirot as easily
as that."
"Good heavens," I gasped.
Poirot was frowning to himself.
"There is still one thing I do not understand."
"What is that?"
"The time, Hastings--the time. If they wanted to decoy me away, surely
night time would be better? Why this early hour? Is it possible that
something is about to happen this morning? Something which they are
anxious Hercule Poirot should not know about?"
He shook his head.
"We shall see. Here I sit, _mon ami_. We do not stir out this
morning. We await events here."
It was at half-past eleven exactly that the summons came. A _petit
bleu_. Poirot tore it open, then handed it to me. It was from Madame
Olivier, the world-famous scientist, whom we had visited yesterday in
connection with the Halliday case. It asked us to come out to Passy at
once.
We obeyed the summons without an instant's delay. Madame Olivier
received us in the same small salon. I was struck anew with the
wonderful power of this woman, with her long nun's face and burning
eyes--this brilliant successor of Becquerel and the Curies. She came to
the point at once.
"Messieurs, you interviewed me yesterday about the disappearance of M.
Halliday. I now learn that you returned to the house a second time, and
asked to see my secretary, Inez Veroneau. She left the house with you,
and has not returned here since."
"Is that all, madame?"
"No, monsieur, it is not. Last night the laboratory was broken into,
and several valuable papers and memoranda were stolen. The thieves had
a try for something more precious still, but luckily they failed to
open the big safe."
"Madame, these are the facts of the case. Your late secretary, Madame
Veroneau, was really the Countess Rossakoff, an expert thief, and it
was she who was responsible for the disappearance of M. Halliday. How
long had she been with you?"
"Five months, monsieur. What you say amazes me."
"It is true, nevertheless. These papers, were they easy to find? Or do
you think an inside knowledge was shown?"
"It is rather curious that the thieves knew exactly where to look. You
think Inez--"
"Yes, I have no doubt that it was upon her information that they acted.
But what is this precious thing that the thieves failed to find?
Jewels?"
Madame Olivier shook her head with a faint smile.
"Something much more precious than that, monsieur." She looked round
her, then bent forward, lowering her voice. "Radium, monsieur."
"Radium?"