How are things with you?
Big Four still going strong - eh?"
Poirot shook a finger at him reproachfully.
"Ah! you mock yourself at me - but the Big Four - they exist."
"Oh! I don't doubt that - but they're not the hub of the universe, as you make out."
"My friend, you are very much mistaken.
The greatest power for evil in the world today is this 'Big Four.'
To what end they are tending, no one knows, but there has never been another such criminal organisation.
The finest brain in China at the head of it, an American millionaire, and a French woman scientist as members, and for the fourth -" Japp interrupted.
"I know - I know.
Regular bee in your bonnet over it all.
It's becoming your little mania, Moosior Poirot.
Let's talk of something else for a change.
Take any interest in chess?"
"I have played it, yes."
"Did you see that curious business yesterday?
Match between two players of world-wide reputation, and one died during the game?"
"I saw a mention of it.
Dr. Savaronoff, the Russian champion, was one of the players, and the other, who succumbed to heart failure, was the brilliant young American, Gilmour Wilson."
"Quite right.
Savaronoff beat Rubinstein and became Russian champion some years ago.
Wilson is said to be a second Capablanca."
"A very curious occurrence," mused Poirot. "If I mistake not, you have a particular interest in the matter?"
Japp gave a rather embarrassed laugh.
"You've hit it, Moosior Poirot.
I'm puzzled.
Wilson was sound as a bell - no trace of heart trouble.
His death is quite inexplicable."
"You suspect Dr. Savaronoff of putting him out of the way?" I cried.
"Hardly that," said Japp dryly. "I don't think even a Russian would murder another man in order not to be beaten at chess - and anyway, from all I can make out, the boot was likely to be on the other leg.
The doctor is supposed to be very hot stuff - second to Lasker they say he is."
Poirot nodded thoughtfully.
"Then what exactly is your little idea?" he asked. "Why should Wilson be poisoned?
For, I assume, of course, that it is poison you suspect."
"Naturally.
Heart failure means your heart stops beating - that's all there is to that.
That's what a doctor says officially at the moment, but privately he tips us the wink that he's not satisfied."
"When is the autopsy to take place?"
"Tonight.
Wilson's death was extraordinarily sudden.
He seemed quite as usual and was actually moving one of the pieces when he suddenly fell forward - dead!"
"There are very few poisons would act in such a fashion," objected Poirot.
"I know.
The autopsy will help us, I expect.
But why should anyone want Gilmour Wilson out of the way - that's what I'd like to know?
Harmless unassuming young fellow.
Just come over here from the States, and apparently hadn't an enemy in the world."
"It seems incredible," I mused.
"Not at all," said Poirot, smiling. "Japp has his theory, I can see."
"I have, Moosior Poirot.