upon me, and urge the necessity of constant marconigrams. We

had a long fit of silence just after we passed Woking.

The train, of course, did not stop anywhere until

Southhampton; but just here it happened to be held up

by a signal.

"Ah! Sacr6 mille tonnerres!" cried Poirot suddenly.

"But I have been an imbecile. I see clearly at last. It is undoubtedly the blessed saints who stopped the train.

Jump, Hastings, but jump, I tell you."

In an instant he had unfastened the carriage door,

and jumped out on the line.

"Throw out the suit-cases and jump yourself."

I obeyed him. Just in time. As I alighted beside him,

the train moved on.

"And now Poirot," I said, in some exasperation,

"perhaps you will tell me what all this is about."

"It is, my friend, that I have seen the light."

THE BIG FOUR 11

"That," I said. "is very illuminating to me."

"It should be," said Poirot, "but I fear—I very much fear that it is not. If you can carry two of these valises, I think I can manage the rest."

,i><«-«<-->»-»><r,

^y ^

2

^Tfie Man from tde asylum

Fortunately the train had stopped near a station. A

short walk brought us to a garage where we were able to

obtain a car, and half an hour later we were spinning

rapidly back to London. Then, and not till then, did

Poirot deign to satisfy my curiosity.

"You do not see? No more did I. But I see now.

Hastings, / was being got out of the way."

"What!"

"Yes. Very cleverly. Both the place and the method

were chosen with great knowledge and acumen. They

were afraid of me."

"Who were?"

"Those four geniuses who have banded themselves

together to work outside the law. A Chinaman, an

American, a Frenchwoman, and—another. Pray the

good God we arrive back in time, Hastings."

"You think there is danger to our visitor?"

"I am sure of it."

Mrs. Pearson greeted us on arrival. Brushing aside

her ecstasies of astonishment on beholding Poirot, we

asked for information. It was reassuring. No one had

called, and our guest had not made any sign.

With a sigh of relief we went up to the rooms. Poirot

crossed the outer one and went through to the inner one. Then he called me, his voice strangely agitated.

"Hastings, he's dead."

I came running to join him. The man was lying as we

had left him, but he was dead, and had been dead some

time. I rushed out for a doctor. Ridgeway, I knew,

would not have returned yet. I found one almost immediately, and brought him back with me.

"He's dead right enough, poor chap. Tramp you've

been befriending, eh?"

"Something of the kind," said Poirot evasively.

"What was the cause of death, doctor?"

"Hard to say. Might have been some kind of fit.

There are signs of asphyxiation. No gas laid on, is

there?"

"No, electric light--nothing else."

"And both windows wide open, too. Been dead about