was a pretty thin story to make her swallow--all that

about a dead child."

"The countess has a great deal more perspicacity than you have, my dear Hastings. She was taken in at first by my disguise; but she soon saw through it. When she

said. 'You are very clever, M. Achille Poirot,' I knew

that she had guessed the truth. It was then or never to

play my trump card."

"All that rigmarole about bringing the dead to life?"

"Exactly--but then, you see, I had the child all

along."

"What?"

"But yes! You know my motto--Be prepared. As

soon as I found that the Countess Rossakoff was mixed

up with the Big Four, I had every possible inquiry made

as to her antecedents. I learnt that she had had a child who was reported to have been killed, and I also found

that there were discrepancies in the story which led me

to wonder whether it might not, after all, be alive. In the end, I succeeded in tracing the boy, and by paying out a big sum I obtained possession of the child's person. The poor little fellow was nearly dead of starvation. I placed him in a safe place, with kindly people, and took a snap

'-*. I

THE BIG FOUR 215

shot of him in his new surroundings. And so, when the

time came, I had my little coup de theatre all ready!"

"You are wonderful, Poirot; absolutely wonderful!"

"I was glad to do it, too. For I had admired the

countess. I should have been sorry if she had perished in the explosion."

"I've been half afraid to ask you--what of the Big

Four?"

"All the bodies have now been recovered. That of

Number Four was quite unrecognisable, the head blown

to pieces. I wish--I rather wish it had not been so. I

should have liked to be sure--but no more of that. Look

at this."

He handed me a newspaper in which a paragraph was

marked. It reported the death, by suicide, of Li Chang

Yen, who had engineered the recent revolution which

had failed so disastrously.

"My great opponent," said Poirot gravely. "It was fated that he and I should never meet in the flesh. When he received the news of the disaster here, he took the

simplest way out. A great brain, my friend, a great

brain. But I wish I had seen the face of the man who was Number Four. . . . Supposing that, after all--but I romance. He is dead. Yes, mon ami, together we have

faced and routed the Big Four; and now you will return

to your charming wife, and I--I shall retire. The great

case of my life is over. Anything else will seem tame

after this. No, I shall retire. Possibly I shall grow vegetable marrows! I might even marry and range myself!"

He laughed heartily at the idea, but with a touch of

embarrassment. I hope . . . small men always admire