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Good Lord.
Later every morning, that lad, isn't
he, Marina?
Disgraceful.
Is that the last of them, then, sir?
I would have been quite happy to
No.
I wanted to write them myself.
Seems only right.
Old friends, you see, George? Old
friends.
Extra! Extra! Read all about it!
World on the brink!
Well, then
Captain Hastings?
A few words?
Really? Me?
Oh.
Well, I don't really
Hard to know what to say, isn't it?
Gosh.
My friends.
I know.
To my master.
The best of masters.
To our dear friend.
To Monsieur Hercule Poirot.
God rest his soul.
"I urge you to believe that I speak
the truth,
that the world is in the grip of sinister
forces bent on tipping it into chaos.
Beware.
Beware the Big Four.
"
Secret societies?
Sinister plans for world domination?
It's all a bit Bulldog Drummond,
don't you think, Mr Tysoe?
At first, yeah, I did.
But I've had more letters since.
I think there's something in it.
You remember that locomotive that
came off the rails, the Plymouth Express?
Course.
My correspondent claims
that was the work of the Big Four.
And the riots in India.
Local agitators.
Not according to these.
A crank, young man.
The idea there's some sort of
organising power controlling the world,
it's a very common fantasy amongst
paranoiacs.
Mr Ingles.
I've been doing some research.
Mr Tysoe, we stand on the edge of an
abyss.
Germany, Italy.
A storm is gathering.
We've enough to worry about without
some far-fetched nonsense like this.
Far-fetched? Is it?
If you could go over
to the left of the chessboard, please.
Sir.
Well, there's a sight for sore eyes.
Ah! Mille tonnerres.
Mon cher Inspector Japp.
Hello, Poirot.
Ah, mon ami.
Mon ami.
It has been too long.
Far too long.
My dear Inspector Japp.
Assistant Commissioner now if you
don't mind.
Pardon.
Pardon.
I've been following your progress
with the interest most keen.
Mon ami.
You are here in the capacity
professional?
I'm not quite a spent force yet,
Poirot.
They still wheel me out for
the occasional important assignment.
Lot of foreign bigwigs here tonight.
Mr Ryland over there's requested a discreet
police presence for this chess match.
I must say, it's nice to get out from
behind a desk, stretch the old pins again.
Though there won't be many more
assignments like this, I fancy.
Well, you know, time,
it catches up with us all.
Perhaps also for Poirot
the shadows are lengthening
and the moment it is come
to think of the life that is quiet.
You retire, Poirot? Never.
You attract mayhem, always have done.
Who's the lady?
Ah, that is the great Madame
Olivier.
Ah, right, one of Ryland's Peace
Party johnnies.
One of your lot, isn't she?
Comment?
Belgian?
Non.
She's French, not Belgian.
But in her field she is a genius.
Her research into the nervous
system, it is truly groundbreaking.
Hm.
You might say she has
the greatest brain in the Western world.
The greatest scientific brain,
indeed.
Of course.
Ah, well, excuse me, Poirot.
Duty
calls.
Assistant Commissioner.
Oh, pardon me, sir.
Monsieur Poirot.
Madame Olivier.
May I introduce Stephen Paynter
of the British diplomatic corps,
an invaluable supporter of the Peace
Party.
A cause most worthy, monsieur.
And this is Do remind me.
Dr Quentin,
Mr Paynter's personal physician.
Quite the turnout, madame.
You must be pleased.
We have done it together, all of us.
Ladies, gentlemen, may I welcome you
to our informal little soiree
on behalf of our guiding light
and founder Li Chang Yen.
Now, ill health prevents him from
leaving China, but he is with us in spirit.
We're all aware of the international
situation,
at the grave pass at which
the civilised world finds itself,
which is why we in the Peace Party
see it as our mission, our duty,
to avoid the lamps going out once
again.
Hear, hear!
One day, years ago, I woke up and I
realised
that I hadn't a clue
what to do with all my money.
Tell us how you got your money, Mr
Ryland.
This is an invitation-only event,
sir.
You won't answer my telephone calls,
Mr Ryland.
How else am I supposed to reach you?
This is intolerable.
Eh? What are you hiding?
Who are the Big Four?
Well, it seems that everyone
wants to be here tonight.
And why wouldn't they?
To witness this demonstration of
unity between East and West
via this ancient and beautiful game.
Now, I would like to thank our
friend, the Russian ambassador,
for coaxing our guest out of
retirement.
May I introduce to you
the illustrious Dr Ivan Savaranoff.
Oh!
Who?
Dr Savaranoff.
He is the greatest
of the Russian grand masters.
You are not a player of chess?
No.
Dominoes is more in my line,
Poirot.
Welcome, sir.
He's getting on a bit.
It is many years since he's been
seen in public, mon ami.
I warn you, sir, I may be an amateur,
but I won't be beat without a fight.
That's always been my motto.
Well, then, without further ado,
let battle commence.
Pawn to king four.
Pawn to king four.
Knight to king's bishop three.
Knight to queen's bishop three.
A doctor! Someone call a doctor!
Can I help, monsieur? I have some
expertise.
I'm afraid it's too late.
He's gone.
They had trouble getting this out of
his hand.
Rigor mortis, I expect.
I expect so.
If you please to show Poirot
the belongings of the old man.
I don't know what you're getting
yourself so broody about, Poirot.
You only had to look at him
to know he wasn't long for this world.
Natural causes, dicky ticker.
It says
so here.
Quelle coincidence.
What's that?
The researches of Madame Olivier
concern the effects
of atropine and morphine and so on
on the heart and the nervous system.
Ah, so that's what she meant
by "expertise".
Oui.
But, alas, it was too late for her
to save him.
So, after all these years of being a
recluse,
he agrees to travel halfway round the
world for a publicity stunt.
I have no doubt that Dr Savaranoff
was paid most handsomely.
Ah, but why was Ryland
prepared to pay so much?
You again.
Yes, we were never formally introduced.
Lawrence Boswell Tysoe, Associated
Papers.
Come on, son.
Mon ami.
What is your interest here, Monsieur
Tysoe?
Something fishy about the old man's
death.
Dr Savaranoff died of natural causes.
Really?
Don't tell me the great Hercule Poirot
would bother with something like this
unless foul play was suspected.
If and when we have something to announce to
the press, you'll be the first to know.
Don't be so hasty.
Play your cards right, maybe I can
supply you with the truth about Abe Ryland,
fill you in on the skeletons
he's got hiding in his closet
and what he knows about the Big
Four.
What is this Big Four?
Ring me, Mr Poirot.
You won't regret it.
Ring me.
Curtain up in five,
ladies and gentlemen.
I'll have a word with someone.
Look, there she is.
Stop it, you terrible boys.
Got your number.
Flossie, I say.
Those boys are just outrageous, aren't they?
Mm.
Did you ever play Juliet, Flossie?
Yes.
Quite recently, actually.
Oh right.
You're not reading that rubbish
again, are you?
It's not rubbish.
It gives me the horrors,
all these rumours about another war.
Oh, I almost forgot.
Reg asked me to give this to you.
Somebody must have left it at stage
door.
A letter? For me?
Must be fan mail.
Well, open it, then.
Ooh, even better, a valentine.
But it's April.
Oh, yes, so it is.
"Dear Flossie,
never forgotten, until we meet again.
Well? Who is it from?
It doesn't say.
Monsieur Tysoe.
Knew you'd come.
Can't resist a
scoop, eh?
You'd have made a good journalist,
Mr Poirot.
I think Poirot has the wrong kind
of morality for the work.
You're too modest, I'm sure.
S'il vous plait.
Monsieur Tysoe, you spoke of skeletons
in the armoire of Monsieur Ryland.
Arm what?
Oh, I see, in the cupboard.
Well, let me tell you, Abe Ryland
is not the man everyone thinks he is.
Real name's Abram Ryakhin, born in
Kursk.
Appeared in America about 25 years
ago, the outbreak of the Great War.
Changed his name,
his voice, his whole identity.
So my question is: why?
What is it that you know?
I know how he made his money.
Arms
dealing.
Huh?
He made millions.
Selling weapons to the Allies and
the Kaiser.
You have proof of this?
Naturally.
And maybe he was planning
on doing the same thing again.
What is this Big Four that you
mentioned?
Certain information been coming my
way.
Letters.
And what do they say, these letters?
Well, not so fast, now, not so fast.
I've shared my information on Ryland.
It's only fair you show a little
reciprocity, wouldn't you say?
What is it you want?
Full access to your investigation.
I work alongside you and your copper
pal.
Monsieur Tysoe, you seem to be a man
who is ambitious, who is creative
and perhaps even
with some level of intelligence.
That supposed to be a compliment?
But you are not a man of discretion,
monsieur.
Were we to share information, what would
stop it from appearing in your newspaper?
It seems I'll have to play a lone
hand in this investigation.
That would be foolish, monsieur.
You would be wise
to reveal what you know,
for your own safety if for nothing
else.
I don't respond to threats, Mr
Poirot.
If you change your mind,
you know where to find me.
You've let Li Chang Yen know
what happened last night?
I've telegraphed.
Then there is nothing more
we can do for now.
What is troubling you?
We have enemies out there, Regine.
Those who seek to destroy
both us and our work.
And I've learned that in this life
you can only trust number one.
They had trouble getting this
out of his hand.
Rigor mortis, I expect.
Ruy Lopez
Assistant Commissioner Japp, s'il
vous plait.
Will this take long, gentlemen?
I'm a very busy man.
Monsieur Ryland
Do you remember the exact succession
of moves made by Dr Savaranoff?
Of course.
He used the Ruy Lopez
opening.
It's the soundest in the game.
And Savaranoff was reputed to favour
this?
Yeah.
So what?
What was the third move
of the white piece in this opening?
Bishop to queen's knight five.
Bon.
The exact move that sealed the fate
of Dr Savaranoff.
If you please to be patient.
This, it is the white bishop
from the chess set,
the exact piece that Dr Savaranoff
was clutching in his hand when he died.
They look identical, no?
Two white bishops from the same chess set?
Ah.
There is a rather thin metal
which passes up through this chessman.
What?
Et maintenant
Observe.
The table, it is electrified,
and so when Dr Savaranoff places the white
bishop upon this particular silver square,
the electric current passes right
through his body killing him instantly.
He was electrocuted.
Oui, bien sur.
Regarde.
The table is clamped to the floor,
so the current passes through it.
It is, en effet,
the killing machine most elaborate.
From where was it obtained, may I
ask? You'd have to ask one of my staff.
I don't concern myself with such
matters.
You do not concern yourself
with the death of a man?
He was an old man.
Old men tend to die, in my experience.
From natural causes, yes,
not usually via electrified chess tables.
Now, you just listen to me.
If you truly believe
Savaranoff was murdered
and in this colourful way Monsieur
Poirot suggests, that's your prerogative.
But if you are even suggesting
that I had anything to do with it,
then you're gonna have to
get yourself some proof.
Hello? Could you put me through
to Mr Tysoe, please?
He isn't?
No, no message.
Thank you.
A Madame Olivier to see you, sir.
Please to show her in, George.
This way, madam.
I shall come straight to the point,
monsieur.
You have seen this?
Ah.
"Does the great detective,
Monsieur Hercule Poirot,
have suspicions regarding
the death of Ivan Savaranoff?
His inquiries currently revolve around
Abe Ryland and his mysterious Peace Party.
"
Calm yourself, madame.
It is merely the tittle-tattle.
We have no evidence
that Monsieur Ryland is involved.
There are those who seek to discredit
all of us in the Peace Party, monsieur.
I implore you,
do nothing to aid these people.
Excusez-moi, madame.
Hercule Poirot speaks.
Ryland was meant to meet
some German dignitary last night.
He never turned up.
Comment?
We haven't a clue where he's got to.
He's gone, Poirot.
He's disappeared.
Good afternoon, sir.
You must be Meadows.
This is the local man on the case,
Poirot.
It's an honour, sir, and an honour
to meet you too, Mr Poirot,
although I don't know that
there's very much to interest you here.
Fairly grubby little *** if you
ask me,
and not too much doubt
about who's to blame, neither.
The victim was Jonathan Whalley,
something of a recluse and a
Sinophile.
Yeah, whatever that is.
It means that he was a lover
of all things Chinese, mon ami.
Ah, and this is the reason for our
interest in this case, Inspector Meadows.
The late Monsieur Jonathan Whalley
was the author of this biography.
Have you got the details
of the household, Inspector?
Well, there are two servants.
Robert Grant who's the kind of
manservant.
He lives in.
And Betsy Andrews, housekeeper and
cook.
You've worked for Mr Whalley
for some time?
Oh, years.
He was a *** old cove.
Kept himself to himself.
Had his little obsessions
like they all do at that age.
Obsessions?
Crackers about all things Chinese.
Did he ever marry?
No.
Can you imagine it?
What woman would have him?
Woe betide you if you tried to move
one of his precious books
or tidy up his bloomin' letters.
Were there any other friends or
family?
Friends? No.
He had a sister.
But she died.
There was a a young nephew
who came here to stay with him
when he was orphaned.
That was before my time, though.
By all accounts, they didn't get on.
Madame Andrews, can you tell to us exactly
what occurred this morning, precisement?
Grant went out to get the milk,
as he does every day.
I popped out to have a natter
with Mrs Stubbs at Laburnum's.
She's buried two children, poor
soul,
and her husband's none too clever
at the moment.
And which of you returned first?
Oh, that would be Grant.
He came in by the back door,
put the milk in the larder
.
.
and then went into his room to
read the paper and have a smoke.
So it was you who discovered the
body, madame?
Just just there he was.
Poor soul, he'd been knocked silly
and had his throat slit.
Oh, nasty, it was.
Very nasty.
Bon.
So the story about Grant going and
fetching milk is true at least, then.
Oui.
Ah.
What is it, Poirot?
Une jambe de mouton.
Mutton, sir?
Oui.
Mm.
Still frozen.
There's ice on it.
You're not suggesting
he used a frozen leg of mutton
to cosh the old gentleman, are you,
sir?
And then cut his throat with the
wishbone?
What is the day, mon ami?
The day?
Oui.
Well, Monday, of course.
Oui, oui.
To commit a *** on a Monday,
it is a mistake most grave.
Monsieur Robert Grant is in custody?
We've taken him in for questioning.
Grant's story was that
he went straight to his bedroom
and that it was Betsy Andrews
who discovered the body.
But then there's the matter of the
footprints.
Whalley kept his most valuable
Chinese curios locked in this cabinet here.
And is it locked now?
Key's in the lock, sir.
Mr Whalley kept it on his person
on his watch chain at all times.
But someone has removed it.
Mr Whalley was fond of boasting
that his most prized possession
was a set of little ivory figures
that he kept in here,
gone.
And this bloody footprint here
Oh, begging your pardon, sir.
It's all right, Meadows.
We know what you mean.
Well, it matches exactly with
Grant's boot.
And a footprint which if Monsieur Grant were
telling the truth he could not have made.
Quite so, sir.
So you now have the opportunity
and the motive.
All that you require now is that
oh, so elusive element, the proof.
The missing figures?
I have no doubt you will find them
hidden in the room of Monsieur Grant,
probably underneath his bed.
Fancy seeing you here, Mr Poirot.
You seem to be everywhere at once.
May Poirot inquire what it is that
you do here?
The news of this crime,
it has not yet been released.
I'm here for the same reason you
are.
Indeed?
Whalley knew something.
Something dangerous, that much is obvious.
So somebody got him out of the way.
And it was your source
who once again gave to you this tip-off?
I'm in possession
of certain information, yeah.
Well, well,
if it isn't the proverbial bad penny.
Assistant Commissioner.
You can account for your movements
at the time of Mr Whalley's death?
That's uncalled for.
Oh, we've got him now, sir.
Honest to God, I never did it.
It's a frame-up, that's what it is.
I came back and went straight to my
room.
I never knew anything till Betsy
screamed, so help me God I didn't.
If you do not tell the truth,
then that is the end of it.
But, guv'nor
No, monsieur.
You did go into the drawing room.
You did know that your master was dead.
You were preparing to make a bolt
for it
when Madame Andrews
made the discovery so terrible.
Come, now.
Is that not so?
I say solemnly
to tell to me the truth now.
It is your only chance.
Yeah.
It's just as you say.
Bon.
Mr Whalley?
I came in
and went straight over to the master,
and there he was dead on the floor,
blood all around.
Then I got the wind up proper.
They'd ferret out my record
and say it was me who'd done him in.
And the figures of ivory?
They was gonna blame the ***
on me anyway.
The master had said
how they was worth a lot of loot.
I might as well go the whole hog.
And then before I could make a run
for it,
Betsy was back and screaming the
place down.
You expect us
to believe all that, Grant?
You ought to be ashamed of yourself
telling such bare-faced lies
to an important man like Mr Poirot
here.
Monsieur Grant,
when were you released from prison?
Two months ago.
And how did you obtain your position
in the household?
Through one of them
prisoners' help societies.
Bloke met me when I come out.
He said this before, Poirot.
There's no record of any such
society placing him with Jonathan Whalley.
I swear it, sir.
It was a pastor, a
priest.
Do you recall what he looked like,
this pastor?
No.
I'm sorry, sir.
He just sort of looked middling
height, ordinary, you know?
I'm afraid I must go ahead
and charge this man, sir.
No.
If you do, Inspector Meadows,
you will charge the wrong man.
Monsieur Grant is not the killer.
Thank you, sir.
I knew you'd believe
me.
Merci.
Sir, I've been thinking this over
and it doesn't add up.
If it's not Grant, well, no one else
approached the cottage all morning.
The neighbours' curtains
twitch like billyo here in Hoppaton.
If there'd been a stranger
come into the house, well
You're not suggesting Betsy Andrews?
Poirot will describe for you
the killer of Jonathan Whalley.
The murderer was a man
who was clever, very clever.
First he posed as a prison visitor.
Then he obtained a post for Monsieur
Grant,
with the deliberate intention
of making him the scaping goat.
Then he gave to him a pair of boots,
one of two pairs that were duplicate.
The other he kept for himself.
Then he drove up outside the house
in a van.
Leaving it in full view, he entered
the house, committed the ***
wearing the boots identical.
Then he drove away.
This man, he wore a hat of straw
and his clothing was slightly bloodstained.
But, Poirot, the whole village
would have seen him.
Vrai dire.
Everybody saw him,
and nobody saw him.
He drove up in the van of a butcher.
This leg of mutton would not have remained
frozen if it was delivered on Saturday.
Non.
Someone delivered
this leg of mutton today,
moreover someone on whom
a trace of blood here and there
would attract no attention.
Blimey.
I'll get round
and arrest the butcher straightaway.
No, do not trouble yourself,
Inspector.
The real butcher would have made
no such delivery today.
No, this is a business most dark,
mes amis,
and I fear we are only at the
beginning of a long, long game
Mr Tysoe!
You cannot say
you have not been warned.
I know.
That's why I'm here now and putting
everything I've got in front of you.
It started with anonymous tip-offs.
Train crashes, riots.
I went to Ingles at the Foreign
Office.
Dismissed it out of hand.
Then the messages
started to become more cryptic.
Merci.
"The game will begin shortly, a
battle of wits, and then a king shall fall.
Beware, beware, the Big Four.
"
That arrived along with a dossier on
Ryland.
"A king shall fall.
"
Yeah, obviously referring to the
chess game.
This was next.
"Death will come to Hoppaton
village.
The dragon shall feast.
"
Jonathan Whalley of Hoppaton,
he is found dead.
Someone on the inside was trying to
tip me off.
Someone inside the Big Four turned
traitor.
Now they've found him out and he's
lying in a morgue with a knife in his back.
Have you identified the deceased
man? No, nothing yet.
There's something else.
Indeed?
This was inside his coat pocket,
addressed to me like all the others.
That's where you should have left
it.
That's evidence.
Yeah, well.
Playing cards?
Of a kind, oui.
But the first one is of the origin
Chinese.
And on it there has been scored the
numero un.
Li Chang Yen.
Has to be.
Brains behind the so-called Peace
Party.
Deux.
That's a Chance card from a Monopoly
set.
You don't have to be a genius
to work that one out.
Ryland.
Le numero trois.
Why does it say D and not Q?
Because this is from a French pack
of playing cards, mon ami.
La dame.
Une dame francaise.
Et finalement,
from the major arcana of the tarot
Quatre.
C'est la mort.
Death.
Mrs Japp got dealt one like
that on Southend Pier.
Gypsy Meg.
Three months later the
cat died.
One, two, three, four.
Whoever the dead man was, he was trying
to give me a clue to their identities.
What is it, Poirot?
Do you not observe, mon ami?
The edge of this card, it is burnt.
"A toast to our future.
All my love.
Mm?
You're going to miss your cue
if you're not careful, darling.
Blast.
Oh.
Ah Ling.
We can't wait any
longer.
Please, ring the gong for dinner.
You're asking too much
of the new regime.
What are you saying?
Remember our dream, everything
we talked about, all we can achieve.
I don't think I can go through with
it.
Stephen
I don't have your certainty.
I'm not like you.
It's wrong, what
we're doing, it's all wrong.
Still no news of Mr Ryland,
Madame Olivier?
Nothing at all.
And it is also very damaging to the
party.
He should be protesting his
innocence.
The newspapers are full of talk
about the Big Four.
No, it is nonsense.
Quite.
It's true that there is bad blood between
America and Russia, though, isn't it,
after Savaranoff's death?
I've been speaking
with the Soviet ambassador,
trying to calm things down, but
My husband the conciliator.
What
would the world do without you, my dear?
Let's hope we'll never find out.
I'll drink to that.
Oh, they're here.
I hoped they'd join us eventually.
It's really not that late, my dear.
So sorry.
So very, very sorry.
Can you ever forgive me, Auntie Di?
I was out with the chaps
and time just ran away from me.
You're on your own, are you, Gerald?
I thought you were bringing
Miss Struthers with you tonight.
Oh, good Lord, so I was.
Huh.
Well, Amelia will have sorted
herself out.
She's probably had a better offer,
what?
Or did I leave her at that blessed
party? Oh, well.
You're here now, Gerald, that's all
that matters.
Why don't you sit down?
So sorry.
You must be la grande
dame, Madame O.
Uncle Stephen
speaks terribly highly of you.
You're staying for a few days,
that's right.
I'm the black sheep of the family.
A pleasure to meet you, Gerald.
Oh, uh, yes, remind me again.
Gerald.
The name's Quentin.
Oh, of course, of course.
Uncle
Stephen's sore bones.
Terribly sorry.
Have you eaten, Gerald?
Ah Ling's finest curry? Rather.
Fill up the bowl, my friend.
Now, where's the wine?
Anyone for a top-up?
That's him, poor ***.
Stabbed in the lower back with some
force.
Kitchen knife.
But observe, mes amis.
Despite all the efforts of the staff
in this mortuary to wash him down,
the dirt, it is deep, it is
ingrained.
He'd been on the run from the Big
Four.
You're hardly going to stop
and run a tub, are you?
And yet you say his clothes, his evening
dress, they are of some quality, yes?
Very nice, yes.
Bit old-fashioned,
mind.
Poirot, he would like to see them.
Sir.
It's been so kind of Uncle Stephen
to take me on.
Don't you think, madame?
Indeed.
Prodigal returns and all that.
It was the least I could do
for my brother's boy.
Ssh, ssh.
It's all under the bridge
now.
Family feud forgiven and forgotten.
I'm glad to have been able to make
amends in some small way.
It's curious, most curious.
What is?
The cloth, it is of the quality most fine, and
yet the fashion, it is of since 30 years.
No labels.
- Ah.
- What is it?
There's a fragment, that is all.
A name?
Of a kind, oui, but
E-R-M-A-N.
Herman? German?
You think he stole the clothes,
some kind of disguise?
Now, mes amis, we must discover
the identity of this man
and find out his connection with the
Big Four.
Stephen!
Stephen!
Stephen! Unlock the door!
Ah Ling, hurry!
Stephen, answer me!
Oh! What a terrible way for a man to
die.
Ruddy odd if you ask me.
Why the fire? I mean, it makes the
face completely unrecognisable.
Oui.
Do you think that was the intention?
Poirot, he has thought of this,
but, no, there seems little doubt
that the dead person
is Monsieur Stephen Paynter.
So, the killer comes into the room,
pulls him off the bed
and drags him over to the fire.
Not the easiest way to kill a man.
Constable.
There would have been
a struggle tremendous.
And screams, screams which
nobody in the house admits to hearing.
Who discovered the body?
Chinese manservant.
Chinese, Poirot.
And Diana Paynter, the wife of 30
years.
Smelt the smoke apparently
from her own bedroom.
Alors Madame Paynter, she does not
share the bed chamber with her husband?
Didn't you hear me, Poirot? 30
years.
To be honest, I think Mrs Japp would
jump at this type of sleeping arrangement,
if we had the room.
See you, Inspector, the finger?
A clue most bizarre, no?
Ah, now, apparently Mr Paynter kept a notepad,
a pen and a bottle of ink by his bedside,
and this is what he wrote last
night.
Dr Quentin, you were the personal
physician of the late Monsieur Paynter?
That's correct.
Stephen had a heart condition,
easily managed with the right medication.
But it was thought prudent
that there should be someone on hand.
What has his state of mind been
lately?
He'd been anxious.
All this stuff in the papers
is enough to alarm anyone.
And now Ryland's vanished.
It's a great blow to the party.
When did you last see him alive,
Doctor?
Around 11:30 last night.
He
asked to see me before he retired to bed.
How did you find him?
He was very agitated.
I suggested a tonic,
but he said he just wanted to get to bed.
One final question, if I may, Doctor.
Merci.
Do you recognise this man?
He does look vaguely familiar.
For what reason?
He's something to do
with the Peace Party, I think.
I met so many people
through Stephen and his work
that I really couldn't say for sure.
No, I don't know him.
Try to think carefully, madame.
Perhaps you met him through your late
husband and his work?
Stephen rarely thought to include me
in his work, monsieur.
I'm sorry I can't be any more help
to you.
We do not wish to distress you,
madame.
I loved my husband, monsieur.
But I realised some time ago that
my affection was no longer reciprocated.
Last night I learned for certain
what I had suspected for some time,
that he
.
.
that he
That he and Madame Olivier
were conducting the love affair?
How did you?
This Poirot had observed
at the chess tournament.
I am so sorry, madame.
Did you hear any kind
of disturbance in the night, Mr Paynter?
No.
Believe me, after the amount of
*** I put away,
it's a miracle I woke at all this
morning.
Dead to the world, I was.
Oh, dear.
Sorry.
Are you sure I can't get you
anything?
Bit early for me, sir.
Thank you all the same.
It would be for me too usually,
but, you know, poor old Uncle Stephen.
You hear about these kind of freak
accidents happening all the time.
Still, a shock when it happens
to one of your nearest and dearest.
You think, then,
that this was an accident?
Well, what else could it have been?
How did you and your uncle get on
together?
Well, I don't feel I had the chance
to get to know him properly.
I've only been here a few months.
Is that so?
Yes.
Father and Uncle Stephen
fell out, you see.
There'd been an incident
when I was only a nipper.
And do you know the nature of this
incident?
Well, this.
A firework exploded in
my face.
Father always blamed Uncle Stephen.
I don't even remember it, of course,
but they never spoke again.
So he gets a tidy sum
as a result of Paynter's death.
And the manner of his death,
so violent and dramatic.
The fire that consumes
the face of Monsieur Paynter,
an echo grotesque
of the burning of his own face.
And as he lies dying, Monsieur
Paynter, he dips his finger into the ink
and scrawls the letter G onto a
notepad, a final desperate attempt
to indicate the identity of his
killer.
Gerald did it for revenge
and for the cash?
Non, non, mon ami.
A fourth *** with a connection
to the Peace Party and the Big Four?
Non.
This is an attempt most crude
to frame young Monsieur Gerald.
Mm.
Well, I suppose
we'd better have the big one in.
I shall do all I can to assist you.
This is a terrible loss for the
world, and for me personally.
Perhaps you can assist us, madame,
with the identity of this man?
He's not known to me, monsieur.
Then perhaps you should take
a closer look, madame.
My eyesight is excellent.
I can assure you,
I do not know who this man is.
Madame, we understand
that before dinner last night
you and Monsieur Paynter
conversed in private?
Yes, we talked
of the future of the Peace Party.
That's a lie.
Mrs Paynter, please.
I may not have
your world-class brain, madame,
but I have sense enough to know
when my husband is conducting
a love affair behind my back.
Diana.
He wanted to finish it with you,
and your pride couldn't bear it.
I heard him.
"It's all wrong.
I can't
go on with this.
" That's what he said.
I wouldn't be surprised if you killed him
rather than let him come back to me.
It is not true.
Mrs Paynter.
Monsieur, surely you cannot
believe
We believe, madame, that we are
dealing with an organisation so ruthless
that it will not hesitate to execute
any who stand in its way.
If you know anything at all about the
Big Four, I implore you to tell it to us.
You accuse me, monsieur?
There is evidence to suggest,
Madame Olivier,
that one of the members of the Big
Four is a woman, a French woman.
Gentlemen, I find your accusations
contemptible and absurd.
You will try and prevent me if I
leave?
No, I can't do that, madame.
You're not under arrest.
You have not heard the last of this,
not by any means.
Mille tonnerres!
We should not have antagonised her.
It is not yet the time.
"I can't go through with this.
It's
all wrong.
"
Maybe he wasn't referring to their
affair, Poirot.
So he was killed because he wanted no more
to do with this organisation so sinister?
Where the hell is this going,
Poirot? We've got nothing to go on, nothing.
There must be a link, mon ami,
a connection however abstruse
between these cases,
something that we have missed.
The link's obvious, Poirot.
It's the ruddy Peace Party.
If what Tysoe's mysterious source
told him is true,
then they're exactly the opposite
of what they claim to be:
fifth columnists working to start a
war, not prevent one.
Poirot must think.
Think.
Assistant Commissioner Japp, sir.
Poirot, she's gone.
Gone? Who has gone, mon ami?
Madame Olivier.
She's done a bunk too, just like Abe Ryland.
No one's seen hide nor hair of her
since she left Paynter's place.
And there's something else.
We've had the tests back from
Paynter's body.
He was drugged.
That's why he didn't
cry out when his head was put in the fire.
The drug was very specific.
Gelsemine.
Gelsemine?
Non.
What is it?
You recall the scientific researches
of Madame Olivier?
They are concerned principally
with the nervous system.
In small quantities
gelsemine is used to treat the heart.
In large quantities it induces paralysis
and immobilisation of the nervous system.
That confirms it.
She's in on it
too.
It would appear so.
Such an eventuality, it is tragic,
non?
To think that it is possible that
such a woman
Never mind that.
We're making progress at last.
We've identified Number Three of the
Big Four.
Oui.
You'll find everything
exactly as it was.
Until you catch the fellow who done
it, I'm not allowed to touch a thing.
And there remains no word
from the nephew of Monsieur Whalley?
He does not return to claim his
inheritance?
No.
Not that I'm surprised.
I mean, who'd want to live here
knowing what had happened?
I wish he would show up, though.
There's boxes of junk just sitting
up there.
Madame, you said before that he and
his uncle, they did not get on?
So I gather.
Before my time, as I
say
And what became of him, madame?
Oh.
Lived here till he was in his
And then
Maybe he went off and joined the
circus.
Just give me a shout when you're
done.
Merci, madame.
Oh, no, not again.
Just give it to me later, Reg.
They're for you.
How lovely.
"My darling Flossie.
Soon our time will come.
Of course, there's no grace
about the profession these days.
These young actors and actresses,
they can't project.
They're used to speaking into a microphone for
the wireless or for the talking pictures.
The profession can be a very cruel
place.
Especially when
the first bloom of youth has gone.
Do you go to the theatre, Mr Poirot?
Yes, indeed.
Well, then, you must have seen me.
I got wonderful reviews
for my Eliza Doolittle.
"A confident and dazzling Miss
Flossie Monro.
"
No.
No?
Well, I did The Importance Of Being
Earnest at the Vaudeville in '26.
I had a great success with that.
No
Perhaps something more recent.
More recent.
Well, let me think.
I was at the Duke of York's a few
years ago in Share My Cab, but
Oh, yes, indeed.
This Poirot did
see.
What did you play?
The accordion.
For some years ago you appeared
in a repertory theatre company, madame.
Moiselle.
Pardon, mademoiselle.
The Methuselah Players.
Yes!
How on earth do you know about that?
Oh! They were happy times.
I have been speaking
to some of your fellow actors
and they tell to me that this company
closed down not long after that season.
Yes, such a shame.
Oh, thank you.
Mm.
Merci.
Does the name Albert Whalley
mean anything to you?
Whalley?
No, no, I don't think so.
Why, should
it?
No, it appears
that he was a member of the audience
very devoted to the Methuselah
company.
In fact, he collected mementoes
from the repertory season in 1924.
Oh, a fan, was he? Oh.
Well, really, Mr Poirot,
you can't expect me to remember
all my admirers over all these years.
Non, mademoiselle?
No.
For instance, only this past few
weeks I've been sent all sorts of things.
Cards, flowers, champagne.
All from an anonymous admirer.
Vraiment?
This arrived just the other day.
A valentine in April?
Yes, I thought it was *** too.
But you know what some of these fans
can be like.
You permit Poirot to see?
Merci, mademoiselle.
"Until we meet again.
"
Mm.
Hercule Poirot speaks.
Oui, monsieur, an interview, it is
possible.
Bon.
What is your address, monsieur?
What a difference a few weeks make.
Quite, sir.
I sent away that journalist fellow
with a flea in his ear
and now it seems he was right after
all.
Bulldog Drummond come to life.
And the best of men lies dead.
Monsieur Poirot was a brilliant man.
Lord knows we could do
with more like him at this moment.
Is there any hope for peace, sir?
This Big Four business has the entire
international community on edge.
Do you have anything concrete to go
on, sir?
Nothing.
Li Chang Yen has put out a statement
denying any knowledge of the Big Four.
He would, wouldn't he?
Ryland and Madame Olivier
are still nowhere to be seen.
What about Number Four?
Indeed.
How does one track down Death
himself?
Poirot knew.
If only we could find out what
knowledge he took with him to his grave.
He always liked things just so,
didn't he?
Quite.
He was onto something, wasn't he?
He had to be.
I only wish I knew what.
I've been so wrapped up with all
these new leads that have been coming in.
Poirot seemed quite content to go
off and pursue things on his own.
I suppose he must have grown
quite used to that.
Yes, I suppose so.
One thing we know for certain.
He was getting too close to the Big
Four, so they eliminated him.
Yes.
Well?
Well?
Well, hang it all, Japp.
What are we going to do next?
Eh?
We can't let Poirot die in vain.
We've got to stop them.
Now, hang on, Captain Hastings.
We can't be faint-hearted now, man.
Are you with me or not?
For Poirot's sake,
together we have to stop the Big Four.
Listen, these people mean business.
They'll stop at nothing.
If even Poirot couldn't stop them.
Good Lord, man.
I never thought
I'd hear such conchie talk from you.
Well, if you won't do anything to
stop these brutes, then I certainly will.
And I'll leave no stone unturned.
Good day.
So what do I do now, old chap?
Good old Hastings.
Old soldiers never die, Mr Japp.
Sir.
Yes, George? What is it?
A telegram has arrived for you,
sir.
For me?
Hello?
Anybody here?
Oh.
It's It's Miss Monro.
I've come
for the audition.
It's funny, I was just talking about
this place to someone the other day.
Strange to be back here after all
this time.
I'm not late, am I? Your letter did
say four.
Hello?
Help Help me.
Please.
What's going on?
What do you want with me?
Welcome, Miss Monro.
Welcome to the lair of the Big Four.
Oh, my God.
You've heard of us.
How gratifying.
Talk to me, Miss Monro.
Tell me all you know about the Big Four.
I don't understand.
Why?
Waiting, Miss Monro.
You wouldn't want to disappoint me,
would you?
I only know what I've seen in the
papers.
What have you read in the papers?
Well it's all run from China, isn't
it?
Number One.
Go on.
Um then there's that American
with all the money.
Number Two.
Continue.
Please, I
Continue!
The French woman.
Um
Madame
Madame Olivier.
Number Three.
And Number Four.
Tell me what you know of Number
Four.
Nobody knows, do they?
Are you Number Four?
Think back, my darling.
It has been some time.
Do I know you?
All my gifts,
the cards, the roses,
they didn't bring back any memories?
You're my admirer? You're you're my
fan?
Think, Flossie.
Think back
to that season at this old theatre.
We performed together on this very
stage.
Claud.
Claud Darrell? It's
Is it really you?
It is, my love.
Well, what's this all about, Claud? I
mean
It's just a joke.
It's just a silly
joke.
No, my dear.
It's serious.
Deadly
serious.
I adore you, Flossie.
Don't you
realise that?
I'd do anything for you.
I've done so much already.
All for you.
Do you remember
what you said to me on that day?
What day? It was years ago, years.
I can never forget it, you know.
I asked you if I could take you
out to dinner and you said
Oh, Claudie.
Don't be so ridiculous.
As if I could fancy someone like you.
You're such a funny little shrimp,
aren't you?
No, I deserve the best, Claudie.
Someone who's gonna
make something of himself.
Someone the whole world will
remember.
Someone the whole world would
remember.
But I was young, wasn't I?
I was young and foolish and full of myself.
The whole world will remember me
now, won't they?
The whole world will remember the
Big Four.
Li Chang Yen, Abe Ryland,
Regine Olivier and me.
Claud Darrell.
Number Four.
The Destroyer.
Death himself.
You mean you've done all of this,
all of this
.
.
just for me?
Tell me you love me, Flossie.
Tell me you love me.
Tell me.
I think you're the most remarkable
man I've ever met.
Let me take you away from here.
Just Just one thing to take care
of first.
I think not, monsieur.
Oui, monsieur.
Despite the best efforts of the Big
Four,
Hercule Poirot, he lives.
You're dead.
Dead and buried.
Non.
It was all smoke and mirrors.
Is that not the expression?
But now it is time to bring down the
curtain on the Big Four.
I rather think that'll be my
decision.
All right, son, the game's up.
You've pulled off some stunts in
your time, Poirot, but this beats them all.
I should say.
I have much to explain to you, mes amis,
but first, if you please, mademoiselle.
Flossie.
Flossie.
Come on.
I think you'd better sit down, sir.
What about these two?
Shouldn't we do something in case they
What's the matter with them?
One moment, mon ami.
What a pass in which we find
ourselves.
The world stands on the brink
of a conflict most terrible.
And what do we discover is behind it
all,
fomenting suspicion on a scale that
is global?
A cabal most terrifying.
Puppet masters who threaten
to plunge the world into war.
And yet, and yet
What was the first reaction
of anyone who was told of the Big Four?
That it was like something from a
storybook, n'est pas?
Bulldog Drummond.
Precisement, Monsieur Tysoe,
precisement.
Because that is all it is, mes amis.
Mere theatre.
The Big Four are not
real.
Non.
They exist only in the crazed
imagination of one man.
That's not possible.
A man who would plunge the world into
chaos because of a passion that is unrequited.
Albert Whalley, who was later to
take on the stage name of Claud Darrell
and who for the past few months
has been masquerading as Dr Quentin.
But what about Li Chang Yen? And
these two?
Li Chang Yen is as innocent as he
claims.
And these poor unfortunate souls
are merely pawns in the game,
kidnapped and kept here,
their disappearances orchestrated
to throw suspicion onto them.
But why don't they say anything?
Because they are drugged, mon ami.
Drugged with gelsemine.
Good grief.
Oui.
The same drug that was used to anaesthetise
Stephen Paynter before he was killed.
They are fully conscious, but
their physical paralysis, it is complete.
But mercifully, it would appear in
this case,
the effect, it is only temporary,
mon ami.
Everyone believed it, though,
didn't they, the Big Four?
Fleet Street, the police, the great
British public.
Oui, monsieur, for some time even Hercule Poirot
was taken in by your charade so deadly.
With your help, of course, Mr Tysoe.
What?
I just had to wind you up like a
clockwork toy and off you went.
You and your little newspaper.
Spreading fear, confusion, hate.
An emotional soup, pulsing.
You really have been a most useful
ally.
But my informer?
The letters? The playing cards?
All sent from Monsieur Darrell.
So the fella who turned up
with a knife in his back?
In reality a ***
dressed in a theatrical costume,
the clues of the playing cards
planted upon him.
Reality, Monsieur Poirot? Who is to
say where fantasy ends and reality begins?
Well, let us speak of beginnings,
monsieur!
Act One of a drama so very strange.
Albert Whalley.
A boy,
an orphan,
poor and unloved
who was sent away to live with
his uncle who was cold and aloof.
Albert Whalley is a name I haven't
used in years.
Non, but an uncle
who disapproved of your fantasies
and your desire to tread the boards.
All those years
of listening to that old fool.
Going on about his precious
Chinaman, Li Chang Yen.
I began to see possibilities.
Oui.
But then you had
the task most difficult, non?
To worm your way into the confidences
of the members of the Peace Party.
Child's play.
I forged my references and quietly
took up my position as Dr Quentin.
Paynter's condition, it's not really
very difficult to research.
I'm an actor, Monsieur Poirot,
and a bloody good one.
Oh, yes, indeed, monsieur,
your ability to blend in,
to pass yourself off in all manner
of disguises, which has proven so useful.
You have the genius
of the character actor.
Help! No! No!
Mr Tysoe!
Savaranoff was killed to implicate
Abe Ryland.
Your uncle died to throw suspicion
onto Li Chang Yen.
And Stephen Paynter, who was
innocent,
murdered to incriminate Madame
Olivier.
He was a weak fool.
His weakness was his conscience.
I merely persuaded him that it
wasn't decent for them to continue
their silly love affair.
That's all it was, then? Diana
Paynter overheard him ending the affair?
It had nothing to do with the Big
Four?
- Indeed so, mon ami.
- But why?
In God's name,
what the hell was it all for?
For me.
Wasn't it, Mr Poirot?
Oui, mademoiselle.
For the woman who spurned him
all those years ago.
For therein lies your tragedy,
Monsieur Darrell.
The very gift that could have turned you into
the actor supreme makes you forgettable.
The man who blends in.
The man whose name
nobody ever can quite remember.
The man who disappears.
Albert Whalley, Claud Darrell,
Dr Quentin, Number Four.
Whatever you choose
to call yourself, monsieur,
you adore the flourish that is
theatrical.
You've got a nerve.
Comment?
All this.
You'd already worked out
where I was.
You could have sent the police
to arrest me at any time.
But instead you wanted your grand
finale,
show everyone just how clever you've
been.
Oh, we're more alike than you think,
Poirot.
Sit down!
Nobody moves!
Don't be a fool, Darrell.
You'll never get away.
My men are surrounding the building.
If Flossie won't have me,
then we're all going to go out
in a blaze of glory.
Oh, my God.
Poirot, we've got to get everybody
out of here.
One minute.
One minute
before I bring down the final
curtain on the Big Four.
Poirot.
You will not do it, monsieur.
To do all this
for the love of one woman.
You will not send her to her grave,
Albert Whalley.
You cannot.
It's all right.
It's all right, son.
It's all right.
You've spoilt everything!
You've spoilt it all,
you insufferable little man!
But I am Number Four, do you hear
me?
The Destroyer.
Death itself.
He's dead.
Good afternoon, gentlemen.
It is a source of great relief
that after our terrible ordeal
we are able to clear not only our own
reputations but that of the party as well.
Indeed.
Li Chang Yen wants to reassure
every civilised nation
that we will continue to strive for
world peace.
The Big Four
has proved to be a fiction,
but still we stand on a precipice.
The situation remains grim,
but if war does come,
the powers of light will be united as one.
I will have to eat some humble pie,
naturally.
But I do have the exclusive story
of Number Four to write,
so that's some consolation.
Thanks for the opportunity
to be in at the end, Mr Poirot.
I hope you've learned your lesson,
mate.
Check your facts before you print.
Incidentally, how did you work it
all out?
It occurred to Poirot for some time that
this case had the flavour of the theatre.
And the label of the costumier,
Max Berman & Sons
was the first mistake
of Monsieur Claud Darrell.
His scrapbook led me
towards Mademoiselle Monro.
Of course, naturellement,
he kept his eye most closely upon her,
but when she met with me,
Hercule Poirot, he panicked.
Hercule Poirot speaks.
I understand you've been trying to
contact me.
My name is Claud Darrell.
Yes, indeed, monsieur,
in connection with your time
at the Methuselah Theatre.
An interview, it is possible?
Certainly.
I can spare you a moment or two
later on this afternoon.
Bon.
What is your address, monsieur?
Flat A, 41 Wilberforce Road,
Islington.
At what hour?
Shall we say four?
Parfait.
Au revoir.
But I hoped that even if for one
moment Monsieur Claud Darrell could believe
that his plan had succeeded, then
the subsequent realisation of his failure
would be all the more devastating.
And Hercule Poirot,
he was proved correct.
I still can't quite believe
I managed to do it,
convince him I was in love with him.
I warned Mademoiselle Monro
that she would need courage
and that it might prove to be most
dangerous.
But when the moment it came
that Claud Darrell
were to make contact with her again,
as I knew that he would,
we must be ready, oui?
It was the performance of a lifetime,
mademoiselle.
I had a wonderful director, Mr
Poirot.
Merci.
Well, delightful as this all is,
I need to get on and write my column.
I don't suppose you'd be interested
in giving me an exclusive interview?
"The woman who stole the heart
of Number Four"?
Perhaps.
Maybe we could discuss it further,
over lunch.
Don't mind if I do.
The performance of a lifetime
certainly gives a girl an appetite.
So where do you fancy?
Simpson's is lovely.
I've not been there for a while.
Or we could go dancing.
Mes amis?
Well, Poirot, we're we're pleased,
you know, that you're not,
you know, dead.
Of course we are, but
But why did you go through
with this horrid charade,
making us believe you'd been killed?
But it was vital, Miss Lemon,
vital that you should believe it.
It was necessary for Poirot to
disappear,
because in this way, the guard of
Number Four, it would be dropped.
George?
I'm sure you had the best
intentions, sir.
No man is a hero to his valet.
Can you ever forgive me, mes amis?
It was all for the best
.
.
I suppose.
But you know this affair of the Big
Four, it has done some other good.
Has it not reunited me
with all my oldest friends?
Almost all.
Because where is Hastings?
Where is Captain Hastings?
Well, there's been no sign of him
since he charged off, I'm afraid.
Surely he must have heard the news
by now.
Good Lord.
Poirot.
I thought you were dead.
Mon ami, Hastings.
Mon ami, mon ami.
It is the most extraordinary thing.
I was only saying