ways and methods of Number Four."

1 brightened up a little. As Poirot put it, things didn't sound so bad.

"Oh! Yes, Hastings, we have done a great deal. It is true that I am not in a position to accuse either Ryland or Madame Olivier--who would believe me? You remember

I thought once I had Ryland successfully cornered?

Nevertheless I have made my suspicions known

in certain quarters--the highest--Lord Aldington, who

enlisted my help in the matter of the stolen submarine

plans, is fully cognisant of all my information respecting the Big Four--and while others may doubt, he believes.

Ryland and Madame Olivier, and Li Chang Yen

himself may go their ways, but there is a searchlight

turned on all their movements."

"And Number Four?" I asked.

"As I said just now--I am beginning to know and

understand his methods. You may smile, Hastings--but

to penetrate a man's personality, to know exactly what

he will do under any given circumstances--that is the

beginning of success. It is a duel between us, and whilst he is constantly giving away his mentality to me, I endeavour to let him know little or nothing of mine. He is

in the light, I in the shade. I tell you, Hastings, that every day they fear me the more for my chosen inactivity."

"They've let us alone, anyway," I observed. "There have been no more attempts on your life, and no ambushes of any kind."

"No," said Poirot thoughtfully. "On the whole, that rather surprises me. Especially as there are one or two

fairly obvious ways of getting at us which I should have thought certain to have occurred to them. You catch my

meaning, perhaps?"

"An infernal machine of some kind?" I hazarded. Poirot made a sharp click with his tongue expressive

of impatience.

"But no! I appeal to your imagination, and you can

suggest nothing more subtle than bombs in the fireplace. Well, well, I have need of some matches, I will

promenade myself despite the weather. Pardon, my

friend, but is it possible that you read The Future of the Argentine, Mirror of Society, Cattle Breeding, The Clue

of Crimson and Sport in the Rockies at one and the

same time?"

I laughed, and admitted that The Clue of Crimson was at present engaging my sole attention. Poirot shook

his head sadly.

"But replace then the others on the bookshelf! Never, never shall I see you embrace the order and the method.

Mon Dieu, what then is a bookshelf for?"

I apologised humbly, and Poirot, after replacing the

offending volumes, each in its appointed place, went

out and left me to uninterrupted enjoyment of my

selected book.

I must admit, however, that I was half asleep when

Mrs. Pearson's knock at the door aroused me.

"A telegram for you, captain."

I tore the orange envelope open without much interest.

Then I sat as though turned to stone.

It was a cable from Bronsen, my manager out at the

South American ranch, and it ran as follows:-"Mrs. Hastings disappeared yesterday, feared been kidnapped by some gang calling itself big four