Chapter 3 Chapter 3 We hear more about Li Changyan

For a day or two after the fake sanitarium administrator's visit, I dared not leave the apartment in the hope that he might return. As far as I could judge, it was impossible for him to suspect that we had seen through his deception.I thought he might come back and remove the body, but Poirot laughed at my way of reasoning. "My friend," said he, "you are sitting on the sidelines, and I would not waste my time like this!" "Well, Poirot," I argued, "then why on earth did he risk coming here last time? If he came back to remove the body, I could still understand the purpose of his visit. He should at least get rid of the evidence against him." If that's the case, he doesn't seem to get any benefit!"

Poirot shrugged his shoulders very Frenchly. "But, Hastings, you didn't see Number Four!" he said. "You talk about evidence, what evidence do we have against him? Yes, we have a body, but we don't even have him. There is no evidence of murder—cyanic acid, which evaporates and leaves no trace. Besides, we don’t have any witnesses that anyone entered the apartment while we were away, and we don’t have any evidence. Knowing the previous whereabouts of our dead friend Merlin..." "No, Hastings, Number Four left no trace, and he knows it. We could call his visit a reconnaissance. Perhaps, he wished to ascertain whether Merlin was dead, but, more likely It was he who came to see Hercule Poirot, to speak to this adversary whom he must fear."

Poirot's reasons seemed to me to be too self-centered, but I argued with him patiently. "Then, what about the autopsy?" I asked, "I think you'll explain the whole story to the police, so they can have a complete idea of ​​No. 4." "Do what? To your testing jury of hard-nosed Brits, are we likely to give them favor? Is it any use for us to paint Number Four? The answer is no, we'll just let them say he's Accidental death' well. Perhaps, though this is only my guess, our clever murderer will be flattered that he outwitted Hercule Poirot in the first turn!"

Once again, as usual, Poirot's judgment proved correct.We didn't see anyone from the nursing home.Poirot was not going to attend the autopsy at all, and I was there to give evidence, but this did not arouse the interest of the public. As Poirot had planned to go to South America, he had closed his business before my visit, so he now has no case at hand.Although he was in the apartment most of the time, I couldn't squeeze out a few words from him at all. He was buried in the armchair all the time, so I couldn't muster up the courage to talk to him.One morning, almost a week after the murder, he asked me if I would be interested in accompanying him to a place he wanted to go.I'm glad he invited me because, I don't think it's right for him to want to solve all the problems alone, and I want to discuss the case with him.However, I found that he did not want to communicate with others at all.Even, when I asked him our destination, he was unwilling to answer.

"Brother Hastings, we are going to visit a person in the UK who knows the Chinese underground secret organization the best." "Really! Who is it?" "A man you've never heard of, called John Ingalls. He was, in fact, a retired civil servant of mediocre qualifications. His house was full of Chinese antiques, which bored his friends and acquaintances." However, there are many people who have assured me that this is John Ingalls who can tell me the news I want." It was not long before we stepped up the steps of Laurel Park, the name of Ingalls' house.I didn't see any laurel trees, so I guess the name is based on the usual obscure nomenclature of the suburbs!

A deadpan Chinese servant took us to meet the master.Mr. Ingalls was a stocky, sallow complexion, with deep-set eyes that strangely reflected his personality.He moved an open letter from his hand and rose to welcome us.After greeting each other, he immediately mentioned the letter. "Sit down, please. Hassey told me you wanted to get some information that I might be able to help." "Yes, sir. I want to inquire about a man named Li Changyan. Do you have any information about this?" "Strange—strange indeed. How do you know this man?" "Then, do you know him?"

"I met him once. I knew a few things about him - not as much as I wanted to know, though. I was amazed that anyone else in England had heard of him. In the industry he was in He's a top-notch man, as far as I'm concerned—he's an official, you know, and he has some other traits—but that's not the most important thing. There are a lot of reasons why I believe he's behind the scenes." "What behind-the-scenes instigation?" "Everything. Global turmoil, labor problems that plague every country, and revolutions that break out in some countries. It's the people, not the rumormongers who disturb society, who know what they're talking about. They say there's a There is a latent force that wants to collapse world civilization. You know, in Russia, there are many signs that Lenin and Trotsky are just puppets. Every move they do is to follow the will of another person. I have no clear proof I can show it to you. However, I firmly believe that the mastermind behind this scene is Li Changyan."

"Ah, don't talk about it." I protested, "Is this a bit far-fetched? How can a Chinese have such a great effect on Russia?" Poirot frowned at me angrily. "Hastings is dead," said he, "to you, any idea that does not come from your head is far-fetched; to me, I share the gentleman's opinion. Go on, sir." .” "I can't pretend I know everything about what he wants to gain from it." Mr. Ingels went on, "However, I think his faults are similar to those of smart people from Akbar and Alexander to Napoleon. The same - the desire to pursue power and personal supremacy. Since ancient times, force has been indispensable to conquer any country and nation, but in this turbulent era, people like Li Changyan can use other tools to achieve Purpose. I have evidence that he is backed by bribes and propaganda money, and there are many indications that he controls some scientific power, which is beyond the world's imagination."

Poirot listened with great attention to every word Mr. Ingalls said. "What about in China?" he asked, "Does he have that much power?" The other party nodded emphatically. "There," he said, "although I can't produce any evidence that can be archived, I can speak from my own knowledge. I know quite a few people who are important in China now, and I can tell you: those Most of the people who stand out in public are people with little or no personality at all. They are puppets danced on strings by the hands of a master, Li Changyan. He is currently the master of everything in the East. We in the West People don't understand the East—never will, and Li Changyan is the driving force of the East. Not because he appeared in front of the crowd—ah! Not because of that; he never left his Beijing palace. He just pulled the string—that is That way, it's just pulling the strings—far away, things happen."

"Has he not been exposed?" asked Poirot. Mr. Ingalls remained in his chair, leaning forward. "In the past four years, four people have tried to expose him," he said slowly. "Four people with character, honesty, and good sense. Each of them has interfered with his plans at some point." .” He paused. "The result?" I asked. "As a result, all the detectives died. One wrote an article, which mentioned that Li Changyan was related to the Beijing riots. In less than two days, he was stabbed to death on the street. The murderer has not yet been arrested. Two more The situation that offended him was quite similar. In their speeches, articles, or conversations, they mentioned Li Changyan's name together with riots or revolutions. Within a week of the incident, they all died. One was poisoned to death, the other Died of cholera, a very special case, when cholera was not prevalent. The last one was found dead on the bed, the cause of death is unknown, but a doctor who saw the corpse told me that there seemed to be an unfathomable current flowing through the body. The body showed signs of burning and shrinking."

"What about Li Changyan?" asked Poirot. "Of course, none of the cases will be traced to him, but there should be some signs, shouldn't there?" Mr. Ingalls shrugged. "Ah, signs—yes, of course. I once knew a articulate, bright, young Chinese chemist who was Li Changyan's henchman. He came to me one day with a frightened look on his face. I could see that he was on the verge of death. Mental breakdown. He suggested to me that he was conducting an experiment in this official's mansion under the command of Li Changyan - an experiment with coolies. In this experiment, human life was regarded as worthless, so inhumane and heinous .He was in a state of fear and nearly collapsed. I placed him in the attic of my house and planned to find out the details the next day—of course, I was too stupid to do so.” "How did they find him?" asked Poirot. "I never knew the answer. I woke up in the middle of the night to find the house was on fire and I was lucky to escape. The investigation book said the strange fire started in the attic and the young chemist friend had burnt to charcoal." Mr. Ingalls spoke with such eagerness and earnestness that I could see that he had spent a great deal of time studying the matter.Obviously, he also knew that he was talking too much, so he smiled apologetically. "Well," he said, "of course, I have no proof, and you, presumably like everyone else, will just tell me I'm crazy?" "On the contrary," said Poirot calmly, "we fully believe what you say. We are also very interested in Li Changyan's affairs." "I wonder how you know him. It never occurred to me that anyone in England had heard his name. I'd like to know how you've heard of him—if it's not too presumptuous." "Not at all, sir. A man took refuge where I lived. At that time, he was overly frightened, but he still tried to tell us something, and what he said was enough to make us interested in Li Changyan. He described Four people—the Four Great Devils—an organization that no one could have expected. The first number is Li Changyan, the second is an unknown American, the third is an unknown French woman, and the fourth It can be said that the enforcer of this organization-the Killer, the person who provided us with this information is dead. Tell me, show, do you know the word 'Four Devils'?" "It has nothing to do with Li Changyan. No, I can't say that. However, I have heard or seen this term recently - there is an unusual plot. Ah! I remembered." He got up and walked over to a veneered lacquered cabinet across the hall--even I could see that it was a very fine piece of furniture.He came back with a letter. "Here it is. A letter from an old seaman I met in Shanghai once upon a time. A grey-haired old rascal - I dare say he's drunk and weeping again. I thought it was his drunken gibberish. language." He read aloud: "Dear sir - maybe you don't remember me. Before, you were nice to me when I was in Shanghai. Now, do me one more favor! I need some money to get out of this country. I'm hiding in a very secret place now, However, they may catch me at any time, I mean the four big devils. It is my life or death. I have a lot of money, but I am afraid they will be alert, so I dare not use it. Send me some hundred pounds Cash. At some time, I will return it—I swear—your servant—Jonathan Wally" "From Granny Cottage, Hobarton, Dartmoor. I take it to be a blatant request for a few hundred pounds in cash. I don't have the money. If you'd be of any use—" he delivered the letter . "Thank you, sir. I'm going to Hobarton now." "Phew! That's interesting. Would you object if I wanted to go too?" "You're very welcome to come with us, but we must start at once. We won't reach Dartmoor until nearly evening, by the looks of it." John Ingalls did not delay long.Soon we were on a train heading west from Paddington.Hobarton is a small town on the right edge of the Badlands.There is a nine-mile road from Moreton.It was almost eight o'clock when we arrived, but, as it was July, it was still quite light. We drove into the narrow streets of the town and stopped to ask a countryman for directions. "Villa Granny." The old man said intuitively, "You are looking for Villa Granny, eh?" We told him that was indeed where we were going. The old man pointed to a gray cottage at the end of the street. "That's the villa. Do you want to see the inspector?" "What inspector?" asked Poirot shrewdly. "What do you mean?" "Then, you haven't heard of the murder? It's terrible. It's said that there was a lot of blood!" "My God!" whispered Poirot, "I must send the Inspector home at once." Five minutes later, we had a private conversation with Inspector Meade.At first, the inspector was a bit serious.But he relaxed when he heard the name of Inspector Japp of the Metropolitan Police. "Yes, sir, murdered this morning. The scene was horrific. I came as soon as they called Moreton. The murder was a mystery at first. Old man—you know about seventy." , was a drinker, and that's what I heard - laying on the living room floor. He had a gore on his head and his throat was almost cut in half crosswise. You'll understand, the blood was everywhere. His cook Bessie Andrews told us that her master had several beauties. He had told her that they were very valuable. After the incident, these beauties disappeared. Of course, this case looks very much like murder But there are many difficulties in solving the case. There are two servants in this old man's house: Bessie Andrews, a Hobarton woman who looks as thick as the Southern servant Robert Grant. When the murder happened, Grant went to the farm to get the milk, which was his daily routine, and Bessie went out to chat with the neighbors. She was only gone for twenty minutes—between ten and ten-thirty—and the murder happened. Grant went back to the house first. He went in by the open back door—it was not locked here—at least during the day—and put the milk in the pantry, then went back to his room. Smoking and reading the newspaper. He had no idea what was going on—at least he said so. Later, Bessie came in, walked into the living room, and saw the tragedy that happened, and she screamed for the dead. These explanations sounded like Makes sense. Someone killed the poor old man while the two of them were away. But, I immediately imagined that the murderer must be a very calm person. He would have to walk through the streets of the town, or sneak across someone's backyard. Go to the house. There are so many houses around Villa Granny. Why doesn't anyone see him?" The Inspector paused cryptically. "Aha! I see what you mean," said Poirot. "Go on?" "Yes, sir, it's very strange, I told myself--a lot of suspicious things. I started looking around. Well, those beauties. Would an ordinary tramp know the value of those beauties? Anyway, Must be crazy to risk something like that in broad daylight. What if the old man yelled for help?" "I suppose, Inspector," said Mr. Ingalls, "that the blood clot on the head is from an anterior event?" "Yes, sir. The murderer knocked him unconscious and then cut his throat. It is easy to understand. But how did the devil come and go? In such a small place, strangers immediately It would have been noticed. I immediately thought - no one had been there at all. It had rained the night before, so the footprints in and out of the kitchen were obvious. There were only two sets of footprints in the living room (Betsy Andrews stopped only at the door ) of Mr. Wallley (who wore carpet slippers) and another man's. Another man had stepped in blood, so I followed the bloody footprints—excuse me, sir." "Never mind," said Mr. Ingalls, with a small smile on his face, "I understand what you're saying." "I followed the footprints into the kitchen--the footprints went only there. That was the first point. There was a faint strange smell on Robert Grant's lintel--the smell of blood. That was the second point. The third point is that I got Grant's boots - which he took off - against the footprints. It matches. This is undoubtedly the work of the insider. I warned Grant and brought him to justice, you guys Guess what I found in his traveling bag? The little beauty and the leaving ticket. Robert Grant is also Abraham Biggs, convicted of felony and theft five years ago." The Inspector paused triumphantly. "What do you think of the case, gentlemen." "I think," said Poirot, "that it is a very clear case. Too clear, in fact. This Biggs, or Grant, he must be a very uneducated man? " "Oh! He's the way he is—a stout, ordinary fellow. He doesn't know what footprints can mean!" "Apparently he hasn't read detective novels! Congratulations, Inspector. Shall we go and see?" "I'll take you there right away. I want you to see the footprints." "I'd love to see it too. Yeah, very interesting and very clever." We set off immediately.Mr. Ingalls and the Inspector went first.I pulled Pollora back a few steps so we could say something without the Inspector hearing. "What kind of medicine are you selling in your gourd, Poirot? In this case, do you have any further questions than the detective's verdict?" "That's right, my friend. Huali has made it very clear in his letter that the Four Great Devils are pursuing him, and we, you and I both know that the Four Great Devils are not children's games, they really exist; However, every thing mentioned seems to show that this Grant committed the crime. Why did he do this? Is it just for the little beauty? Or is he the minion of the four big demons? I admit the possibility of the latter Bigger. No matter how valuable these beauties are, it is unlikely that a man of this level will understand this, at least, not to the point of killing for them (this will definitely surprise the inspector). He can steal these first. The Jade Man, then, slipped away without having to commit this cruel and indistinguishable homicide. Ah! Yes! I'm afraid our friend from Devonshire hasn't used his little gray cells yet. He measured his footprints , but forgot to mull over his ideas in the necessary order and method."