our adversaries' minds--I felt myself that I required

some more tangible success than this.

Since we had come into contact with the Big Four,

they had committed two murders, abducted Halliday,

and had been within an ace of killing Poirot and myself; whereas so far we had hardly scored a point in the game. Poirot treated my complaints lightly.

"So far, Hastings," he said, "they laugh. That is true, but you have a proverb, have you not: 'He laughs

best who laughs at the end'? And at the end, mon ami, you shall see.

"You must remember, too," he added, "that we deal with no ordinary criminal, but with the second greatest

brain in the world."

87

88 Agatha Christie

I forbore to pander to his conceit by asking the obvious question. I knew the answer, at least I knew what

Poirot's answer would be, and instead I tried without

success to elicit some information as to what steps he

was taking to track down the enemy. As usual he had

kept me completely in the dark as to his movements,

but I gathered that he was in touch with secret service

agents in India, China, and Russia, and, from his occasional bursts of self-glorification, that he was at least

progressing in his favourite game of gauging his

enemy's mind.

He had abandoned his private practice almost entirely,

and I know that at this time he refused some

remarkably handsome fees. True, he would sometimes

investigate cases which intrigued him, but he usually

dropped them the moment he was convinced that they

had no connection with the activities of the Big Four.

This attitude of his was remarkably profitable to our

friend, Inspector Japp. Undeniably he gained much

kudos for solving several problems in which his success

was really due to a half-contemptuous hint from Poirot.

In return for such service Japp supplied full details of any case which he thought might interest the little

Belgian, and when he was put in charge of what the

newspaper called "The Yellow Jasmine Mystery," he wired Poirot, asking him whether he would care to come

down and look into the case.

It was in response to this wire that, about a month

after my adventure in Abe Ryland's house, we found

ourselves alone in a railway compartment whirling away

from the smoke and dust of London, bound for the

little town of Market Handford in Worcestershire, the seat of the mystery. Poirot leant back in his corner.

THE BIG FOUR 89

"And what exactly is your opinion of the affair,

Hastings?"

I did not at once reply to his question; I felt the need of going warily.

"It all seems so complicated," I said cautiously.

"Does it not?" said Poirot delightedly.

"I suppose our rushing off like this is a pretty clear sign that you consider Mr. Paynter's death to be murder

--not suicide or the result of an accident?"

"No, no; you misunderstand me, Hastings. Granting

that Mr. Paynter died as the result of a particularly terrible accident, there are still a number of mysterious circumstances to be explained."