"Four men have tried in the last four years," he said slowly; "men of character, and honesty, and brain

power. Any one of them might in time have interfered

with his plans." He paused.

"Well? "I queried.

24 Agatha Christie

"Well. they are dead. One wrote an article, and mentioned Li Chang Yen's name in connection with the riots

in Pekin, and within two days he was stabbed in the

street. His murderer was never caught. The offences of

the other two were similar. In a speech or an article, or in conversation, each linked Li Chang Yen's name with

rioting or revolution and within a week of his indiscretion each was dead. One was poisoned; one died of

cholera, an isolated case--not part of an epidemic; and

one was found dead in his bed. The cause of the last

death was never determined, but I was told by a doctor

who saw the corpse that it was burnt and shrivelled as though a wave of electrical energy of incredible power

had passed through it."

"And Li Chang Yen?" inquired Poirot. "Naturally nothing is traced to him, but there are signs, eh?" Mr. Ingles shrugged.

"Oh, signs--yes, certainly. And once I found a man

who would talk, a brilliant young Chinese chemist who

was a protege of Li Chang Yen's. He came to me one

day, this chemist, and I could see that he was on the

verge of a nervous breakdown. He hinted to me of experiments on which he'd been engaged in Li Chang

Yen's palace under the mandarin's direction--experiments on coolies in which the most revolting disregard

for human life and suffering had been shown. His nerve

had completely broken, and he was in the most pitiable

state of terror. I put him to bed in a top room of my

own house, intending to question him the next day-and that, of course, was stupid of me."

"How did they get him?" demanded Poirot.

"That I shall never know. I woke that night to find my house in flames, and was lucky to escape with my

life. Investigation showed that a fire of amazing inten THE BIG FOUR 25

sity had broken out on the top floor, and the remains of my young chemist friend were charred to a cinder."

I could see from the earnestness with which he had

been speaking that Mr. Ingles was a man mounted on

his hobby horse, and evidently he, too, realised that he had been carried away, for he laughed apologetically.

"But, of course," he said, "I have no proofs, and you, like the others, will merely tell me that I have a bee in my bonnet."

"On the contrary," said Poirot quietly, "we have every reason to believe your story. We ourselves are

more than a little interested in Li Chang Yen."

"Very odd your knowing about him. Didn't fancy a

soul in England had ever heard of him. I'd rather like to know how you did come to hear of him--if it's not indiscreet."