Fortunately the train had stopped near a station. A short walk brought
us to a garage where we were able to obtain a car, and half an hour
later we were spinning rapidly back to London. Then, and not till then,
did Poirot deign to satisfy my curiosity.
"You do not see? No more did I. But I see now. Hastings, _I was being
got out of the way_."
"What!"
"Yes. Very cleverly. Both the place and the method were chosen with
great knowledge and acumen. They were afraid of me."
"Who were?"
"Those four geniuses who have banded themselves together to work
outside the law. A Chinaman, an American, a Frenchwoman, and--another.
Pray the good God we arrive back in time, Hastings."
"You think there is danger to our visitor?"
"I am sure of it."
Mrs. Pearson greeted us on arrival. Brushing aside her ecstasies of
astonishment on beholding Poirot, we asked for information. It was
reassuring. No one had called, and our guest had not made any sign.
With a sigh of relief we went up to the rooms. Poirot crossed the outer
one and went through to the inner one. Then he called me, his voice
strangely agitated.
"Hastings, he's dead."
I came running to join him. The man was lying as we had left him, but
he was dead, and had been dead some time. I rushed out for a doctor.
Ridgeway, I knew, would not have returned yet. I found one almost
immediately, and brought him back with me.
"He's dead right enough, poor chap. Tramp you've been befriending, eh?"
"Something of the kind," said Poirot evasively. "What was the cause of
death, doctor?"
"Hard to say. Might have been some kind of fit. There are signs of
asphyxiation. No gas laid on, is there?"
"No, electric light--nothing else."
"And both windows wide open, too. Been dead about two hours, I should
say. You'll notify the proper people, won't you?"
He took his departure. Poirot did some necessary telephoning. Finally,
somewhat to my surprise, he rang up our old friend Inspector Japp, and
asked him if he could possibly come round.
No sooner were these proceedings completed than Mrs. Pearson appeared,
her eyes as round as saucers.
"There's a man here from 'Anwell--from the 'Sylum. Did you ever? Shall
I show him up?"
We signified assent, and a big burly man in uniform was ushered in.
"'Morning, gentlemen," he said cheerfully. "I've got reason to believe
you've got one of my birds here. Escaped last night, he did."
"He was here," said Poirot quietly.
"Not got away again, has he?" asked the keeper, with some concern.
"He is dead."
The man looked more relieved than otherwise.
"You don't say so. Well, I dare say it's best for all parties."
"Was he--dangerous?"
"'Omicidal, d'you mean? Oh, no. 'Armless enough. Persecution mania very
acute. Full of secret societies from China that had got him shut up.
They're all the same."