--if through the door, it was an inside job; if through

the window, it might have been any one. First thing

when they had broken the door down, they flung the

window open, and the housemaid who did it thinks that

it wasn't fastened, but she's a precious bad witness-will remember anything you ask her to!" FR1;THE BIG FOUR 99

"What about the key?"

"There you are again. It was on the floor among the wreckage of the door. Might have fallen from the

keyhole, might have been dropped there by one of the

people who entered, might have been slipped underneath

the door from the outside."

"In fact everything is 'might have been'?"

"You've hit it, Moosior Poirot. That's just what it is."

Poirot was looking round him, frowning unhappily.

"I cannot see light," he murmured. "Just now--yes, I got a gleam, but now all is darkness once more. I have not the clue--the motive."

"Young Gerald Paynter had a pretty good motive," remarked Japp grimly. "He's been wild enough in his time, I can tell you. And extravagant. You know what

artists are, too--no morals at all."

Poirot did not pay much attention to Japp's sweeping

strictures on the artistic temperament. Instead he smiled knowingly.

"My good Japp, is it possible that you throw the mud in my eyes? I know well enough that it is the Chinaman

you suspect. But you are so artful. You want me to help

you--and yet you drag the red kipper across the trail." Japp burst out laughing.

"That's you all over, Mr. Poirot. Yes, I'd bet on the Chink, I'll admit it now. It stands to reason that it was he who doctored the curry, and if he'd try once in an

evening to get his master out of the way, he'd try twice."

"I wonder if he would," said Poirot softly.

"But it's the motive that beats me. Some heathen

revenge or other, I suppose."

"I wonder," said Poirot again. "There has been no robbery? Nothing has disappeared? No jewellery, or

money, or papers?"

100 Agatha Christie

"No--that is, not exactly."

I pricked up my ears; so did Poirot.

"There's been no robbery, I mean," explained Japp.

"But the old boy was writing a book of some sort. We only knew about it this morning when there was a letter

from the publishers asking about the manuscript. It was

just completed, it seems. Young Paynter and I have

searched high and low, but can't find a trace of it--he

must have hidden it away somewhere."

Poirot's eyes were shining with the green light I knew

so well.

"How was it called, this book?" he asked.

"The Hidden Hand in China, I think it was called."

"Aha!" said Poirot, with almost a gasp. Then he said quickly, "Let me see the Chinaman, Ah Ling."

The Chinaman was sent for and appeared, shuffling

along, with his eyes cast down, and his pigtail swinging. His impassive face showed no trace of any kind of emotion.