"This morning, my friend, I should recommend the best suit.
We go to call upon the Home Secretary."
"Indeed?
That is very exciting.
He has called you in to take up a case?"
"Not exactly.
The interview is of my seeking.
You may remember my saying that I once did him some small service?
He is inclined to be foolishly enthusiastic over my capabilities in consequence, and I am about to trade on this attitude of his.
As you know, the French Premier, M. Desjardeaux is over in London, and at my request the Home Secretary had arranged for him to be present at our little conference this morning."
The Right Honourable Sydney Crowther, His Majesty's Secretary of State for Home Affairs, was a well-known and popular figure.
A man of some fifty years of age, with a quizzical expression and shrewd gray eyes, he received us with that delightful bonhomie of manner which was well known to be one of his principal assets.
Standing with his back to the fireplace was a tall thin man with a pointed black beard and a sensitive face.
"M. Desjardeaux," said Crowther. "Allow me to introduce to you M. Hercule Poirot of whom you may, perhaps, already have heard."
The Frenchman bowed and shook hands.
"I have indeed heard of M. Hercule Poirot," he said pleasantly. "Who has not?"
"You are too amiable, monsieur," said Poirot, bowing, but his face flushed with pleasure.
"Any word for an old friend?" asked a quiet voice, and a man came forward from a corner by a tall bookcase.
It was our old acquaintance, Mr. Ingles.
Poirot shook him warmly by the hand.
"And now, M. Poirot," said Crowther. "We are at your service.
I understood you to say that you had a communication of the utmost importance to make to us."
"That is so, monsieur.
There is in the world today a vast organisation - an organisation of crime.
It is controlled by four individuals, who are known and spoken of as the Big Four.
Number One is a Chinaman, Li Chang Yen; Number Two is the American multi-millionaire, Abe Ryland; Number Three is a Frenchwoman; Number Four I have every reason to believe is an obscure English actor called Claud Darrell.
These four are banded together to destroy the existing social order, and to replace it with an anarchy in which they would reign as dictators."
"Incredible," muttered the Frenchman. "Ryland, mixed up with a thing of that kind?
Surely the idea is too fantastic."
"Listen, monsieur, whilst I recount to you some of the doings of this Big Four."
It was an enthralling narrative which Poirot unfolded.
Familiar as I was with all the details, they thrilled me anew as I heard the bald recital of our adventures and escapes.
M. Desjardeaux looked mutely at Mr. Crowther as Poirot finished.
The other answered the look.
"Yes, M. Desjardeaux, I think we must admit the existence of a 'Big Four.'
Scotland Yard was inclined to jeer at first, but they have been forced to admit that M. Poirot was right in many of his claims.
The only question is the extent of its aims.
I cannot but feel that M. Poirot - er - exaggerates a little."
For answer Poirot set forth ten salient points.
I have been asked not to give them to the public even now, and so I refrain from doing so, but they included the extraordinary disasters to submarines which occurred in a certain month, and also a series of aeroplane accidents and forced landings.
According to Poirot, these were all the work of the Big Four, and bore witness to the fact that they were in possession of various scientific secrets unknown to the world at large.
This brought us straight to the question which I had been waiting for the French Premier to ask.
"You say that the third member of this organisation is a Frenchwoman.
Have you any idea of her name?"
"It is a well-known name, monsieur. An honoured name.
Number Three is no less than the famous Madame Olivier."
At the mention of the world-famous scientist, successor to the Curies, M. Desjardeaux positively bounded from his chair, his face purple with emotion.
"Madame Olivier!
Impossible!
Absurd!