The Big Four by Agatha Christie Page B

and well, for you.”
    â€œI accept,” said Poirot. “I was about to propose the same bargain myself. By the way, are the Big Four your employers, madame?”
    Again I saw that deathly pallor creep over her face, but she left his question unanswered.
    Instead, “You permit me to telephone?” she asked, and crossing to the instrument she rang up a number. “The number of the villa,” she explained, “where our friend is now imprisoned. You may give it to the police—the nest will be empty when they arrive. Ah! I am through. Is that you, André? It is I, Inez. The little Belgian knows all. Send Halliday to the hotel, and clear out.”
    She replaced the receiver, and came towards us, smiling.
    â€œYou will accompany us to the hotel, madame.”
    â€œNaturally. I expected that.”
    I got a taxi, and we drove off together. I could see by Poirot’s face that he was perplexed. The thing was almost too easy. We arrived at the hotel. The porter came up to us.
    â€œA gentleman has arrived. He is in your rooms. He seems very ill. A nurse came with him, but she has left.”
    â€œThat is all right,” said Poirot, “he is a friend of mine.”
    We went upstairs together. Sitting in a chair by the window was a haggard young fellow who looked in the last stages of exhaustion. Poirot went over to him.
    â€œAre you John Halliday?” The man nodded. “Show me your left arm. John Halliday has a mole just below the left elbow.”
    The man stretched out his arm. The mole was there. Poirot bowed to the countess. She turned and left the room.
    A glass of brandy revived Halliday somewhat.
    â€œMy God!” he muttered. “I have been through hell—hell … Those fiends are devils incarnate. My wife, where is she? What does she think? They told me that she would believe—would believe—”
    â€œShe does not,” said Poirot firmly. “Her faith in you has never wavered. She is waiting for you—she and the child.”
    â€œThank God for that. I can hardly believe that I am free once more.”
    â€œNow that you are a little recovered, monsieur, I should like to hear the whole story from the beginning.”
    Halliday looked at him with an indescribable expression.
    â€œI remember—nothing,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHave you ever heard of the Big Four?”
    â€œSomething of them,” said Poirot dryly.
    â€œYou do not know what I know. They have unlimited power. If I remain silent, I shall be safe—if I say one word—not only I, but my nearest and dearest will suffer unspeakable things. It is no good arguing with me. I know … I remember—nothing.”
    And, getting up, he walked from the room.
    Â 
    Poirot’s face wore a baffled expression.
    â€œSo it is like that, is it?” he muttered. “The Big Four win again. What is that you are holding in your hand, Hastings?”
    I handed it to him.
    â€œThe countess scribbled it before she left,” I explained.
    He read it.
    â€œAu revoir.—I.V.”
    â€œSigned with her initials—I.V. Just a coincidence, perhaps, that they also stand for Four . I wonder, Hastings, I wonder.”

Seven
T HE R ADIUM T HIEVES
    O n the night of his release, Halliday slept in the room next to ours at the hotel, and all night long I heard him moaning and protesting in his sleep. Undoubtedly his experience in the villa had broken his nerve, and in the morning we failed completely to extract any information from him. He would only repeat his statement about the unlimited power at the disposal of the Big Four, and his assurance of the vengeance which would follow if he talked.
    After lunch he departed to rejoin his wife in England, but Poirot and I remained behind in Paris. I was all for energetic proceedings of some kind or other, and Poirot’s quiescence annoyed me.
    â€œFor Heaven’s sake, Poirot,” I urged,