"I was glad to do it, too. For I had admired the countess. I should have been sorry if she had perished in the explosion."
"I've been half afraid to ask you—what of the Big Four?"
"All the bodies have now been recovered. That of Number Four was quite unrecognisable, the head blown to pieces. I wish—I rather wish it had not been so. I should have liked to be sure—but no more of that. Look at this."
He handed me a newspaper in which a paragraph was marked. It reported the death, by suicide, of Li Chang Yen, who had engineered the recent revolution which had failed so disastrously.
"My great opponent," said Poirot gravely. "It was fated that he and I should never meet in the flesh. When he received the news of the disaster here, he took the simplest way out. A great brain, my friend, a great brain. But I wish I had seen the face of the man who was Number Four.... Supposing that, after all—but I romance. He is dead. Yes, mon ami, together we have faced and routed the Big Four; and now you will return to your charming wife, and I—I shall retire. The great case of my life is over. Anything else will seem tame after this. No, I shall retire. Possibly I shall grow vegetable marrows! I might even marry and range myself!"
He laughed heartily at the idea, but with a touch of embarrassment. I hope ... small men always admire big, flamboyant women—
"Marry and range myself," he said again. "Who knows?"