be left alone upstairs near the patient's room.

Hence I was quite prepared when, the instant we were

alone, he sprang up.

"Quick, Hastings, the window. There is ivy outside. We can climb down before they begin to suspect."

"Climb down?"

"Yes, we must get out of this house at once. You saw him at dinner?"

"The doctor?"

"No, young Templeton. His trick with his bread. Do

you remember what Flossie Monro told us before she

died? That Claud Darrell had a habit of dabbing his

bread on the table to pick up crumbs. Hastings, this is a vast plot, and that vacant-looking young man is our

arch enemy--Number Four! Hurry."

I did not wait to argue. Incredible as the whole thing

seemed, it was wiser not to delay. We scrambled down

the ivy as quietly as we could and made a bee-line for the small town and the railway station. We were just able to catch the last train, the 8.34 which would land us in

town about eleven o'clock.

"A plot," said Poirot thoughtfully. "How many of them were in it, I wonder? I suspect that the whole

Templeton family are just so many agents of the Big

Four. Did they simply want to decoy us down there? Or

was it more subtle than that. Did they intend to play the comedy down there and keep me interested until they

had had time to do--what? I wonder now."

He remained very thoughtful.

Arrived at our lodgings, he restrained me at the door

of the sitting-room.

"Attention, Hasting. I have my suspicions. Let me

enter first."

He did so, and, to my slight amusement, took the

precaution to press on the electric switch with an old

galosh. Then he went round the room like a strange cat,

cautiously, delicately, on the alert for danger. I watched him for some time, remaining obediently where I had

been put by the wall.

"It's all right, Poirot," I said impatiently.

"It seems so, mon ami, it seems so. But let us make

|r sure."

"Rot," I said. "I shall light the fire, anyway, and have a pipe. I've caught you out for once. You had the

matches last and you didn't put them back in the holder

as usual--the very thing you're always cursing me for

doing."

I stretched out my hand. I heard Poirot's warning

cry--saw him leaping towards me--my hand touched

the matchbox.

Then--a flash of blue flame--an ear-rending crash-and darkness-I came to myself to find the familiar face of our old

THE BIG FOUR 175

friend Dr. Ridgeway bending over me. An expression of

relief passed over his features.

"Keep still," he said soothingly. "You're all right. There's been an accident, you know."

"Poirot?" I murmured.

"You're in my digs. Everything's quite all right." A cold fear clutched at my heart. His evasion woke a

horrible fear.

"Poirot9" I reiterated. "What of Poirot?" He saw that I had to know and that further evasions

were useless.

"By a miracle you escaped—Poirot—did not!"