Chapter 8 Chapter Eight Into the Tiger's Lair

After the Bath expedition we quickly returned to London.A great pile of letters awaited Poirot.He read one of them with a weird smile on his face, and when he was done he handed the letter to me. "Look at this letter, my friend." I first turned to the signature, "Abel Ryland", and Poirot's words came to mind: "the richest man in the world".Mr. Ryland's letter was concise and sharp.He expressed his dissatisfaction with Poirot's reason for withdrawing from the South American project until the end. "It's exasperating that I do that, isn't it?" said Poirot.

"I think it's only natural that he's a little fidgety." "No, no, you don't understand. Recall Merlin's words, the man who came to us for refuge and ended up dying at the hands of the enemy." logo - to represent. Also represented by two stripes and a star, so one can guess that he is an American, and he represents wealth.' Combine these words with Ryland trying to lure me away with a large sum of money Britain thinks about it - so - so what, Hastings?" "You mean," I said, looking straight at him, "that you suspect that Abel Ryland, a billionaire, is the second of the Big Four?"

"Your brilliant mind has finally come to light, Hastings. Yes, I do doubt it. Your tone of voice when you speak of billionaires is heartwarming - but let me remind you of a fact - This matter is run by the highest-ranking people—Mr. Ryland has a bad reputation in the business world. A capable and arrogant man, a man who has the wealth he wants and wants to get unlimited magic power." Undoubtedly, some of Poirot's views still need to be clarified.I asked him when he actually had this idea. "Just now. I'm not sure, and I can't be sure. My friend, I wish I knew. Now, let me identify number two as Abel Ryland, and that will bring us closer to our target."

"From his letter, he's only just arrived in London," I said, tapping the paper. "Would you like to visit him and apologize to him in person?" "I might do that." Two days later Poirot returned to our lodgings in high spirits.He grabbed me impulsively with both hands. "My friend, the most opportune time has come! But there will be dangers, many dangers. I don't even have the courage to ask you to try." I told him that if he was trying to intimidate me, he was doing it wrong.He became more sensible and confided his plans. Layland seemed to be looking for an English secretary with good social manners and good looks.Dial advised me to apply for that job.

"I'd apply myself," he explained guiltily, "but, you know, it's almost impossible for me to pretend I'm comfortable with the requisite formalities. I speak good English—except when I'm emotional— But it's hard to fool people's ears; and, if I shaved off my beard, I think they'd recognize my Hercule Poirot." I agreed with him, and I said that I had made up my mind to accept the task of infiltrating Ryland's house. "I'm only about ten percent hopeful," I said. "Oh, yes, he will use you. I will arrange for you a letter of recommendation that will blow his heart, and the Home Secretary will recommend you."

I thought the matter was blowing a little too far, but Poirot ignored my protests. "Ah! yes! he will write. I will look up for him a little incident about him which might have turned into a scandal beyond control. These matters have been settled, and now you He was, perhaps, like a bird perched on my hand and eating crumbs." First, we make an appointment with an artist to do "makeup" work.The artist was a small man with a strange, bird-like angle on his head, like Poirot's.He looked at me quietly for a while, then buried himself in his work.When I saw myself in the mirror half an hour later, I was startled.The special leather shoes made me stand at least two inches taller, and the well-designed coat made me look thin and frail.My brows were modified and made my face look completely different.My cheeks were stuffed with cushions, my swarthy complexion was gone, my beard was gone, and my mouth had a single gold tooth that gleamed.

"Your name is," said Poirot, "Arthur Neville. God bless you, my friend—I'm afraid you've entered a tiger's den." At the time appointed by Mr. Ryland, I went to Savoy with trepidation, and demanded to see the great man. A minute or two later, I was taken upstairs to his office. Ryland sat at the table with a letter open in front of me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye. It was the Home Secretary's notes.My first impression of this rich American was very deep. He was tall and thin, with a hooked nose, a protruding chin, and cold and gloomy eyes under his eyebrows.He has thick gray hair and a long black cigar in his mouth. (I later learned that no one had ever seen him without a cigar.)

"Sit down," he said quietly. I sit down.He tapped the letter in front of him. "According to this letter, you are a suitable candidate, and I need not look for another person. Hey! Are you familiar with social matters?" I said I thought I would satisfy him in that respect. "I mean, if there are many princes and nobles coming to my country house, can you arrange their places properly at dinner?" "Ah! It's very simple." I replied with a smile. After a few more conversations, I knew I was hired.Mr. Ryland already had an American secretary and a shorthand typist, so what he needed now was a secretary familiar with British society.

Two days later I went down to Hatton Chase, the country estate of the Duke of Roma, who had a six-month lease with the rich American. At work, I did not encounter any difficulties.I've worked as a private secretary to an active member of Congress in the past, so these things are pretty familiar to me.Mr. Ryland usually holds a big banquet on weekends. In contrast, Sundays are calmer. I rarely see Mr. Appleby, the American secretary. He seems to be a pleasant and decent young man who is very efficient.I did meet Miss Martin, the shorthand typist, several times.She was a pretty girl of about twenty-three or fourteen, with auburn hair and brown eyes that sometimes looked mischievous, but usually drooped with deliberate seriousness.I feel that she neither likes nor trusts her client, and she deliberately keeps that feeling from showing, but, unintentionally, the time has come to convince her of me.

Of course, I have observed every molecule in the room very carefully.One or two servants were recently employed, and besides them, I think, there was a manservant and several maidservants.The foremen, housekeepers and cooks were employed by the duke, and they stayed where they liked to work.I thought there was nothing wrong with the maid, and I looked into the second man, James, very carefully; but he was evidently just a rough man, brought in by the foreman of the man.My biggest suspicion is Ryland's valet Deves, whom Ryland brought from New York.This man is British, well-behaved, but I am wary of him.

I have been at Hatton Chase for three weeks, and there is nothing to support our conjectures, or to intervene.There is no sign of the activities of the Four Great Devils.Mr. Ryland's strength and personality were irresistible objects of observation, but I was slowly convinced that this time Poirot had made a mistake in confusing him with that terrible organization.One evening, at dinner, I also overheard him mention Poirot inadvertently. "He's been said to be a nice lad. But how do I know he's a runaway guy? I had an assignment for him and he turned it down at the last minute. I don't believe that anymore Hercule Poirot." At times like these, I find the pads on my cheeks the most annoying. Later Miss Martin told me a rather curious story.That day, Ryland took Appleby to London.After tea Miss Martin and I walked in the garden.I like this girl very much, she is very natural, not artificial at all.I could see something was wrong with her and she finally spoke up. "You know, Major Neville," she said, "I really want to quit this job." I was a little taken aback, she hurried on. "I know it's a good job in some ways. I think most people would think I'm an idiot knowing I want to throw this job away. But I can't stand the abuse. Well, Major Neville, it's not something I can bear to be yelled at. No gentleman would ever do that." "Has Rylan ever scolded you?" She nods. "Of course, he's always been irritable and irritable, everyone knows that, and it's not uncommon. But, in such a fit of rage - when I've done nothing wrong. He looks as if It's killing me! And, like I said, I didn't do anything wrong." "Can you tell me what happened before and after?" I asked with great interest. "You know, I open and read all of Mr. Ryland's letters. After I've read them, I give some to Mr. Appleby and some to myself, but I always sort first. Now, there are some letters that I On blue letter paper with a little '4' sign in the corner - Excuse me, what did you just say?" I couldn't help but yelled just now, but I immediately shook my head in denial and asked her to continue talking. "Well, I just mentioned some letters here, and he strictly ordered me not to open them, but to hand them directly to Mr. Ryland without any changes. Of course, I did as he said. But yesterday morning, the letters A lot, I opened letters in a hurry. Accidentally opened one of those letters. I found I had made a mistake, and immediately took it to Mr. Ryland and explained it to him. Like I told you just now, I'm really scared." "I thought, is there something in the letter that made him so angry?" "It's nothing—that's the strangest thing. I didn't realize I had opened the wrong letter until I read it. It's short, I remember every word, and there's nothing in it to offend anyone. " I thought about that letter that night and most of the next day—and suddenly, the mystery was solved.It's very simple, the Arabic numeral 4 is the key clue, separate the words in the letter into groups of four, and then read the first word of each group, and a completely different message comes out. "It's very important to see you, Quarry, seventeen, eleven, four." It's easy to understand those numbers.Seventeen stands for October seventeenth—that's tomorrow, eleven o'clock is the time, four is the signature—it's just the mysterious number four himself—or the sign of the Big Four.The quarry is also easy to understand.Nearby was a large disused quarry, only half a mile from the villa - a quiet spot, ideal for secret meetings. For a while, I wanted to be on my own.This will be my chance to do something, just for once, let me shout victory to Poirot. Finally, I restrained my desire to claim credit.That's the important thing - I don't have the power to decide whether I'm going it alone, and that diminishes our hopes.This time will be our first sneak attack on the enemy.This time we must succeed, and, perhaps I am reluctant to admit, Poirot is indeed the wiser of the two of us. I wrote the letter in one go, presented the facts to him, and told him the importance of eavesdropping on their secret meeting.If he wants me to go to the meeting alone, no problem, I will solve all the problems myself, but I still carefully tell him how to get to the quarry, in case he thinks it is better for him to go, so as not to find it . I personally took the letter to town to pay for the post.Here I can communicate with Poirot in the easiest way—by sending a letter myself.We have agreed in advance that he does not want to contact me, lest my letters be peeped or tampered with. The next night, I was very excited and felt hot all over.There were no guests to entertain, and Mr. Ryland and I were busy in the study all evening.I had expected it to be like this, and this sentence was the reason why it was impossible for me to meet Poirot at the station.However, I am sure he will ask me to leave before eleven o'clock. Sure enough, just after ten-thirty, Mr. Ryland looked at the clock and said he was done.I understood what he meant and stepped back cautiously.I went upstairs as if I was going to sleep, then sneaked to the side stairs, and in the garden, I carefully put on a dark overcoat to hide my white shirt. After a walk in the garden, I looked back.Mr. Ryland happened to enter the garden through the French windows of his study.Going to an appointment.I quicken my pace, trying to see everything that started.When I reached the quarry, I was almost out of breath.Looking as if no one had been there yet, I crawled into the thick undergrowth and watched the progress. Ten minutes later, at exactly eleven o'clock, Laylan walked in quietly. The hat covered his eyes, and the cigar in his mouth was clearly visible.He took a quick look around, then jumped down into the cave in the quarry below.Now, I hear muffled conversations above my head.Apparently another person - or someone else - whoever, had come to the meeting place first.I climbed carefully out of the bushes, crawling inch by inch, making as little noise as possible, and squirmed like a bug down the steep path.Now I am a stone's throw away from those who speak.Safely hidden in the darkness, I peered over the edge of the stone and found myself facing a jet-black automatic pistol that seemed ready to kill. "Hands up!" said Mr. Ryland succinctly. "I've been waiting for you for a while." He sat in the shadow of the stone, so I couldn't see his face clearly, and the menace in his tone sounded unpleasant.Then I felt a ring of cold steel against the nape of my neck and Rylan lowered his pistol. "Well done, George," he said slowly, "bring him over here." I was led sullenly into the shadows, where a George I didn't see (I suspect it was the decent Deves) gagged me and bound me firmly. Rylan spoke again, in a voice I could barely make out, so grim!So vicious! "This will be the cemetery for the two of you. You have blocked the way of the four great demons many times. Have you ever heard of landslides? Two years ago, there was one near here. Tonight, there will be another one .I've made arrangements. Hey! That friend of yours isn't quite on time." A shudder hit my heart.Before long, Poirot, he too would step into this trap unsuspectingly.I couldn't warn him.I can only pray that he decides to send me to the meeting alone and that he remains in London.Yes, if he was coming, he should be here now. Point by point passed, and my hopes grew. Suddenly, my hopes were shattered into pieces.I heard footsteps—cautious footsteps.Alas, it was indeed footsteps, I groaned feebly inside.Footsteps came down the path, stopped, and then Poirot appeared, peering into the shadows with his head tilted. I heard Ryland's growl of satisfaction as he raised the big pistol and shouted, "Hands up." Deves sprang forward, pouncing on Poirot from behind, and the ambush did the job; hungry. "It's been a long time, Mr. Hercule Poirot," said the American grimly. Poirot's calm composure was truly amazing.He wasn't impressed at all.Still, I could see his eyes searching the darkness. "My friend? Is he here?" "That's right, you're all in the trap—the trap of the Four Great Devils." he laughed. "Trap?" asked Poirot. "Hey! Don't you know?" "I know there is a trap, I know," said Poirot gently. "But you are mistaken, sir. It is you who have fallen into the trap—not my friend." "What?" Ryland raised his big pistol, and I saw his eyes shrink. "If you shoot, you kill under ten pairs of eyes, and you are sentenced to hang. The place is surrounded by Scotland Yard officers - and has been surrounded for an hour. This is a siege, Abel Ryland gentlemen." He made a strange whistle, as if by magic, and people were already standing around him.They seized Rylan and his servants and took their weapons from them.After a few words with the officer in charge, Poirot took my arm and walked away. After leaving the quarry, he happily hugged me. "You're alive—and unscathed. That's good. I've been blaming myself for letting you go." "I'm fine," I said, pulling out my arm, "but I'm a little confused. You know what they're up to, don't you?" "I'm waiting for it, otherwise, why would I let you go there? Your false name, your disguise, is not trying to deceive people at all!" "What?" I yelled, "You never told me." "I have told you many times, Hastings. You have a very good and honest nature, and you cannot deceive anyone but yourself. Yes, you were recognized from the first. They followed me Figured out what they'd do - it's a mathematical corollary for someone who can put his little gray cells to good use - using you as bait. They put that girl on - By the way, my friend, as a psychologically interesting fact, did she have auburn hair?" "You mean Miss Martin?" I said dryly. "Her hair is a nice auburn. But—" "He's terrible--these people. They've even studied your mind. Ah! Seems, my friend, that Miss Martin was part of the scheme--exactly. She wrote you a letter, and Said that Mr. Lai Lan made a big show of her thunderbolt. You record the following, and then rack your brains to think——The code is well designed, the difficulty is moderate, you figure it out, and then send the information to me. " "They didn't know that I was expecting this to happen. As soon as I got the letter, I went to Japp and got everything in order. So, as you can see, came home victorious." I wasn't too happy with Poirot's arrangement, and I told him how I felt. We took the milk truck back to London early in the morning, and it was a most uncomfortable journey. As I was thinking of a good breakfast, I heard Japp's voice in the living room as I was going out to take a bath.I put on my bathrobe and hurried into the living room. "This time, you made us think that we would catch everything, but in the end, there was no actual gain." Japp said, "It's a pity, Mr. Poirot. For the first time, I know that you will also be defeated." Poirot's expression was wonderful.Japp went on: "We were very careful to catch this Mafia member—it turned out to be a servant." "Employee?" I asked out of breath. "Yes, James or something. He seems to have made some bets in the servants' room, mistaking the supercilious man for the old man--the supercilious man is you, Captain Hastings--and, You will give him a lot of spies who are surrounded by the four big demon groups." "Impossible!" I yelled. "You won't believe it! Our party went straight up to Hatton Chase, with the real Ryland sleeping in bed while the foreman, the cook, and God knows how many servants were cursing the bettors. Just a farce—that's So—and, besides, his valet followed him." "No wonder he's been in the shadows," whispered Poirot. After Japp left, our eyes met. "We know, Hastings," said Poirot at last, "that the second of the Big Four was Abel Ryland, and that by employing a disguise in some way ensured a way of escape in an emergency, and that The servant." "En." I held my breath. "Number Four," said Poirot gravely.