Chapter 15 Chapter Fifteen A Terrible Disaster

After the tragic death of Miss Frost Monroe, I began to feel a change in the waves.Ever since joining forces with the Four Great Demons, his invincible self-confidence has been put to the test.The long-term tension seems to have gradually affected his physical condition.His expression was deep and solemn, and his nerves were restless.These days, he's as neurotic as a cat.He tried to avoid talking about any topic about the Big Four. On the surface, he seemed to be returning to his daily work with almost the same enthusiasm as before, but I knew he was still busy with it.Slavs with special appearance often came to him. Although he did not explain these mysterious activities to me, I knew that these foreigners who looked a little annoying were helping him build new defense facilities or counter weapons.Once, quite by chance, I saw his bank book - he asked me to close some small items - and I noticed the expenditure of a large sum of money - even for the newly rich Poirot It was a lot of money—paid to some Russian, with his name on it.

However, he didn't reveal any plans to me.He just repeats a sentence over and over again. "Underestimating your opponent's ability is the greatest mistake. Remember that, my friend." I knew it was a mistake he would do anything to avoid. Things dragged on until the end of March.One day Poirot said something that surprised me. "This morning, my friend, I advise you to put on your best clothes, and we shall call on the Home Secretary." "Really? I'm so excited. He asked you to do a case?" "No, I fought so hard for this meeting. Do you remember when I said I did him a little favor? As a result, he appreciated our abilities, and now I want to take advantage of his mentality. You You know, French Prime Minister Diardo is visiting London, and at my request, the Home Secretary arranged for him to attend our small discussion this morning."

The just and noble Sidney Crowther, Secretary of State for the Home Affairs of the Emperor, was a popular figure.He was about fifty years old, with a comical look and quick gray eyes, and he received us with a gentle, pleasant demeanor that was recognized as one of his chief assets. The man standing by the fireplace behind him was a tall, gangly man with a black goatee and a sensitive face. "Mr. Diardo," said Crowther, "let me introduce you, perhaps you have heard his name, Mr. Hercule Poirot." The Frenchman saluted and shook hands with Poirot. "I have indeed heard of the name of M. Hercule Poirot," he said cheerfully. "Who hasn't?"

"You are very kind, sir," said Poirot with a bow, but his cheeks flushed with joy. "Do you want to talk to an old friend?" A calm voice asked, and a person came from the tall bookcase in the corner. It's our old acquaintance, Mr. Ingalls. Poirot shook his hand warmly. "Sir, M. Poirot," said Crowther, "we are always available. I know you are about to announce that you have something important to tell us." "Yes, sir. Now there is a huge organization in the world - a criminal organization. This organization is controlled by four people, they are called the Four Devils. The first is Chinese Li Changyan, and the second is each Billionaire Abel Ryland, number three is a French woman and number four I have every reason to believe is an unknown British actor Claude Darry. These four men work together to destroy the existing society Order is replaced by anarchy at the behest of a dictator."

"Unbelievable," the Frenchman whispered. "Ryland would get involved with this kind of organization? Their idea is nothing short of a dream." "I'll tell you something about what the Big Four are doing, sir." Poirot spoke vividly.Although I knew all the details well, when I heard the real story of our life and death, I felt the creeps again. After Poirot finished speaking, Mr. Diardo silently glanced at Mr. Crowther, who answered knowingly. "Yes, Monsieur Diardo, I think we have to admit the existence of the Four Devils. The Metropolitan Police had deliberately laughed it off, but later they had to admit that a lot of what Mr. Poirot said was true. .The only question is the extent of their aim. I cannot help but feel that M. Poirot is - er - exaggerating a little."

Poirot announced ten special items to answer.He's been asking me not to announce it to the public, so I've been holding myself back.These events included an unusual submarine disaster in one month, and a string of plane crashes and forced landings.According to Poirot, these are the masterpieces of the Four Great Devils, and it is necessary to accept the fact that they already possess different scientific secrets that the general world does not know. His answer pointed directly to another question, one I was waiting for the French Prime Minister to ask. "You said that number three of this organization is a French woman, do you know her name?"

"That is a very famous name, sir. A noble and noble name. The third number is the famous Madame Olivier." When mentioning this world-famous scientist and the heir of the Curies, Mr. Diardo suddenly jumped up from his chair, his face flushed with excitement. "Madame Olivier! Impossible! Absurd! You are insulting me by saying that!" Poirot shook his head mildly, but made no answer. Mr. Diardo looked at him blankly for a while, and his face gradually returned to normal. He glanced at the Minister of the Interior and patted his forehead meaningfully. "Mr. Poirot is a great man," he said, "but even a great man--can go mad sometimes, can't he? Look for your own imaginary contradictions among high-ranking people. It's It's well known. Do you agree with me, or do you think otherwise, Mr. Crowther?"

The Home Secretary was silent for a moment, then he spoke slowly and heavily. "I really don't know," he said at last. "I have always trusted M. Poirot very much, and I still do, but—well, it takes a little faith." "Also, this Li Changyan," Mr. Diardo interjected, "who has heard of him?" "I," replied Mr. Ingalls unexpectedly. The French stared at him, and he stared back calmly, looking more like a Chinese god than ever. "Mr. Ingalls," explained the Home Secretary, "is an authority on China's internal affairs."

"Have you heard of this Li Changyan?" "Before blaming Poirot for coming to me, I thought I was the only one who knew him. Make no mistake, Monsieur Diardo, there is only one Chinese who has weight in China now—Li Changyan. He has, perhaps, I Just saying maybe the best mind in the world right now." Mr. Diardo sat blankly.However, it didn't take long for him to pick himself up again. "Perhaps what you say is indeed true, M. Poirot," he said dryly, "but, as far as Madame Olivier is concerned, you are probably mistaken. She is a sincere judge woman, and, Dedicated only to science."

Poirot shrugged his shoulders and made no answer. "There was silence for a minute or two, and then my friend stood up with a serious air that was different from his usual abrupt and comical nature." "That's what I should have said, sir—to raise your alarm. I don't think you will believe what I say, but you will at least pay attention. My words will be etched in your minds, and you will Everything that happens will strengthen your shaky faith. I must speak now—I may not have the chance later.” "You mean—?" asked Crowther, already struck by the seriousness in Poirot's tone.

"I mean, sir, my life is at stake because I'm digging deep into Number Four. He'll stop at nothing to kill me—he's not called 'The Killer' for nothing. Gentlemen, I Salute to you. Mr. Crowther, I hand you this key and this sealed letter. I have enclosed in the box all my notes, which, if they can be most effective in eliminating the threat that at any time may destroy the world. I put them in some safe place, Mr. Crowther. After my death, Mr. Crowther, you have the right to deal with those papers and make use of those materials. Now, gentlemen, I wish you a happy day." Diado just bowed indifferently, but Crowther jumped up and held out his hand. "You have changed my mind, Monsieur Poirot. The whole thing seems untrue, and I believe it only because you told us." When we left, Ingalls left too. "I am not at all disappointed in this meeting," said Poirot as we walked together. "I do not expect Diardo to believe all this, but at least I am sure that if I die, my thoughts will be different." Will pass away with me. Besides, I've convinced a person, or two, that's good enough!" "You know, I'm on your side." Ingels said, "By the way, as soon as everything is done, I'm going to China." "Is that wise for you?" "Unwise," said Ingels deadpan, "but it is necessary. A man must do what he can." "Ah, you are a brave man!" cried Poirot impulsively. "I would embrace you if we were not in the street." Ingles looked a little relieved. "I don't think I'm more dangerous in China than you are in London." He said unfairly. "That may be true," admitted Poirot. "I hope they don't hurt Hastings. That's the most important thing. Otherwise, I shall be very distressed." I interrupted this boring topic, saying that I would not let myself be hurt.Soon, Ingels broke up with us. We walked some distance in silence, and Poirot broke the silence at last with an unexpected remark. "I think—I really do—I should drag my brother into this." "Your brother?" I exclaimed in surprise, "I never knew you had a brother." "You astonish me, Hastings. Don't you know that all famous detectives have brothers who are more famous than them? If he's not naturally lazy." Poirot's manner seemed so peculiar that you could hardly tell whether he was joking or sincere.At this time, it was his attitude. "What's your brother's name?" I asked, trying to accept this new knowledge for myself. "Archer Poirot," replied Poirot earnestly, "he lives near Spah, Belgium." "What's he doing?" I asked curiously, putting aside for a moment my desire to know about Madame Poirot's personality, her tastes, and her fondness for Christian names, who had died for Salmon. "He doesn't do anything. As I said, he has a very different kind of lazy personality. He's as capable as I am, though—that's a lot." "Does he look like you?" "I can't say that he doesn't look like it. However, he is not as handsome as me. Besides, he doesn't have a beard." "Is he older than you, or younger?" "He just happened to be born with me." "Twins," I yelled. "That's right, Hastings. You guessed pretty well and quickly. We're home, though, and we're going to get down to the little matter of the Duchess's necklace." The Duchess' necklace was destined to wait, though.A very unusual case awaits us. Our landlady, Mrs. Pearson, immediately informed us that a hospital nurse was visiting and was expecting to see Poirot. We found her seated in an armchair facing the window, a good-looking middle-aged woman in a dark blue uniform.She was a little reluctant to get to the point, but Poirot quickly made her comfortable and she began to tell her story. "You know, M. Poirot, I've never had anything like that happen to me. I was sent from the Lark Ladies' Society to Hevershire to look after a sick man. An old gentleman, Mr. Templeton. A very comfortable house and very A nice family. The hostess, Mrs. Templeton, was much younger than her husband, and a son from Mr. Templeton's first marriage lived with them. I wonder if the young man got on well with his stepmother. He Not quite normal—not mentally retarded, in fact, but obvious mental retardation. Well, from the beginning, I found Mr. Templeton's illness to be very strange. Sometimes he seemed really all right, and then, suddenly, Stomach pain and vomiting. However, the doctor seemed satisfied with his progress, so it was not my turn to say anything. However, I couldn't help thinking about it. Then-" She stopped, her face flushed. "Has something happened to arouse doubts in your mind?" asked Poirot roundly. "yes." Still, she seemed to find it difficult to speak. "I've noticed that people are also gossiping." "About Mr. Templeton's illness?" "Oh no! About—about another thing—" "Mrs. Templeton's?" "good." "Probably about Mrs. Templeton and the doctor?" Poirot had a peculiar sixth sense for such matters.The nurse gave him a grateful look and went on: "Others were gossiping. Then, one day, I happened to see them together—in the garden—" She stopped talking here.Our client was in such distress that it was difficult to describe the crime, and therefore no one felt the need to ask what she actually saw in the garden.Evidently, what she saw was enough to make up her mind. "Mr. Templeton's sudden attacks are getting worse. Dr. Trevy says it's a natural progression, and Mr. Templeton won't live long, but I've never seen anything like it—I No nurse who's been around for so long has seen it. To me, it kind of looks like—" She listened and hesitated. "Arsenic poisoning?" Poirot said for her. She nods. "Later, he, I mean the patient, said something strange: 'They're going to kill me, four of them. They're going to kill me.'" "Eh?" said Poirot quickly. "That was really what he said, M. Poirot. At the time, he was in so much pain that he had no idea what he was talking about." "'They're going to kill me, four of them.'" Poirot repeated significantly. "What do you think he meant by 'the four of them'?" "Then I don't know, M. Poirot. I think perhaps he means his wife, son, doctor and perhaps Miss Clarke, who is a friend of Mrs. Templeton's. That's four, isn't it? He Maybe think they're ganging up on him?" "That's right," said Poirot absent-mindedly. "And what about the food? Can't you take precautions?" "I try to be careful. Sometimes, though, Mrs. Templeton insists on bringing his food, and sometimes I'm away on vacation." "That's right. You're not sure if your reasons are good enough to report the crime to the police?" Hearing this, the nurse showed fear on her face. "This is what I wanted to do, M. Poirot. Mr. Templeton was very ill after drinking a bowl of soup. I took some soup from the bottom of the bowl and took it with me. Because today Templeton Sir is doing well. So I took a day off to see an old lady who was sick, and I stopped by." She took out a vial of dark liquid and handed it to Poirot. "Excellent, ma'am. We'll have this sent for testing right away. If you come back here in, uh—an hour, I think we can reassure you of some of your concerns." Poirot first asked our visitor's name and qualifications, and then sent her out.then.He wrote a note and sent it along with the bottle of soup for testing.When our fair was over, Poirot amused himself a little by finding out the nurse's background, somewhat to my surprise. "No, my friend," he declared, "I'd better be careful. Don't forget that the Big Four are following us again." Not long after, he inquired round and round about a nurse named Maple Pole who had served in the Lark Research Center, and was later sent to serve at the home of a problem patient. "So far so good," he said with bright eyes. "Ah! Now Miss Polet is back, and our assayer's report has arrived." The nurse and I waited anxiously while Poirot read the report. "Is there arsenic in it?" she asked breathlessly. Poirot shook his head as he refolded the report. "No." We were both taken aback. "There is no arsenic," continued Poirot, "but there is antimony. In these circumstances we must set off for Hevershire at once. God help us before it is too late." The easiest way, we thought, was for Poirot to be honest about his identity as a detective, and pretend to ask Mrs. Templeton about a former servant of hers, who was involved in a jewel robbery, and his name was Pollet, Nurse told us. of. By the time we reached Yuzhuang—Yuzhuang was the name of the house—it was late.We let Nurse Polet come in twenty minutes before us so that no one would wonder why we arrived together. Mrs. Templeton, a tall, dark woman, received us with flickering eyes and awkward movements.When Poirot identified herself, she drew a sharp breath, as if startled.However, she seemed to take it easy in answering her maid's questions.Later, Poirot deliberately tells the story of a criminal wife who devised poisoning to tempt her.His eyes never left her face as he told the story, and although she tried to control herself, she couldn't hide the panic that was rising in her heart.She suddenly left in an inarticulate manner, and hurriedly left the room. It wasn't long before a man with a usually stocky body, a small red beard, and a pince-nez entered. "Dr. Trevy," he introduced himself, "Mrs. Templeton asked me to apologize. You know, she is in a bad mood. Nervous. Worrying too much about her husband's condition and other trivial matters. I'll give her some sleeping pills." and sent her to bed. She wishes Min to stay for dinner, and I will entertain you. We have long known your name, Monsieur Poirot, and we will do our best to please you. Ah! here comes Mickey." A young man who walks staggeringly enters.He had a face as round as the full moon, and a pair of stupid-looking eyebrows, which seemed to be raised in astonishment all the time.When he shook his head, he grinned uncomfortably.This person is obviously the "mentally deficient" boy. We'll go in for dinner right away.Dr. Trevy left the room - to open a drink, I think - and the boy's face took a sudden and startling change.He leaned forward and stared at Poirot. "You're here for my father," he said, nodding. "I know. I know a lot of things—but it doesn't seem so to others. If my father dies, my mother will be very happy, and she can marry Dr. Trevy. She's not my real mother, you know. I don't like her, and she wants my father dead." It's horrible.Fortunately, before Boluo could answer, the doctor came back, and we talked about some irrelevant entertainment. Then Poirot groaned suddenly and leaned back on the quilt.His face was contorted with pain. "My dear sir, what is the matter with you?" cried the doctor. "Sudden cramps. My old problem. No, I don't need your help, doctor. May I lie upstairs and rest?" His request was granted immediately, I accompanied him upstairs, he fell on the bed, moaning loudly. At first, I was deceived, but I soon saw that Poirot was in - to use his own words - duck comedy, and he wanted to be alone upstairs with the patient's room. When there were only two of us left, he jumped up immediately, and I had already prepared him for such a thing in my heart. "Quick, Hastings, the window. There's ivy out there. We can climb down before we're suspected." "Climb down?" "Yes, we must leave the house at once. Did you see the way he was eating?" "doctor?" "No, young Templeton. He played with his bread. Do you remember what Flossie Monroe told us before he died? That Claude Darry picked up the crumbs from the rice press at his meal." Habit. Hastings, this is a very cunning plot. That dazed young man is our staunch enemy—Number Four! Come on." I don't argue.As incredible as the whole thing may seem, it would be wise not to procrastinate.We hopped among the ivy as quietly as we could, and took the shortest way to the town's railway station.Just in time for the last train.The eight thirty-four train.We'll be in London around eleven o'clock. "A conspiracy," said Poirot thoughtfully. "How many of my childless gang are there? I suspect that the Templetons are the minions of the Big Four. Are they just trying to lure us there? Or Anything more cunning? They're trying to put on a farce there to interest me, so they'll have time for—what? I doubt it now." He was still preoccupied. When we got to our apartment, he asked me to wait by the living room door. "Be careful, Hastings. I'm a little worried. Let me go in first." He went in first, and I stared wide-eyed in amazement at him pressing the switch with an old plastic overshoe.Then, like a strange cat, he walked about the room, cautious, keen and refined, on the lookout for danger.I watched him for a while, obediently staying by the wall where he asked me to wait. "No problem, Poirot," I said impatiently. "It seems to be all right, my friend, it seems to be all right. But let us find out first." "Fool!" I said. "Anyway, I want to light a pipe. I caught you at last with a pigtail. You didn't put the matches back in the case like you always did—you often Blame me." I hold out my hand.I heard Poirot's cry of warning - saw him leap towards me - and my hand touched the matchbox. Then—the blue fire—the deafening explosion—and then, the darkness— I awoke to find our old friend Dr. Ridgeway bent over me.A relaxed look flashed across his face. "Don't move," he said reassuringly. "You're all right, you know, there was an accident." "Poirot?" I asked in a low voice. "You're at my house, you're fine." A cold shudder gripped my heart.His hesitations scare me. "Poirot?" I asked again. "What's the matter with Poirot?" He knew that my insistence on knowing the details was useless. "You miraculously escaped—Poirot—and didn't!" I couldn't help myself from screaming. "Not dead?" Richiewe lowered his head, trying hard to control the expression on his face. I sat up desperately. "Poirot may be dead," I said weakly, "but his spirit lives on. I will continue his work! Damn the Big Four!" After I finished speaking, I fell back and passed out again.