I

The man did nothing with it for some moments, then he suddenly began to write feverishly. With equal suddenness he stopped and let both paper and pencil fall to the ground. The doctor picked it up, and shook his head.

“Nothing here. Only the figure 4 scrawled a dozen times, each one bigger than the last. Wants to write 14 Farraway Street, I expect. It’s an interesting case⁠—very interesting. Can you possibly keep him here until this afternoon? I’m due at the hospital now, but I’ll come back this afternoon and make all arrangements about him. It’s too interesting a case to be lost sight of.”

I explained Poirot’s departure and the fact that I proposed to accompany him to Southampton.

“That’s all right. Leave the man here. He won’t get into mischief. He’s suffering from complete exhaustion. Will probably sleep for eight hours on end. I’ll have a word with that excellent Mrs. Funnyface of yours, and tell her to keep an eye on him.”

And Dr. Ridgeway bustled out with his usual celerity. Poirot himself completed his packing, with one eye on the clock.

“The time, it marches with a rapidity unbelievable. Come now, Hastings, you cannot say that I have left you with nothing to do. A most sensational problem. The man from the unknown. Who is he? What is he? Ah, sapristi , but I would give two years of my life to have this boat go tomorrow instead of today. There is something here very curious⁠—very interesting. But one must have time⁠— time . It may be days⁠—or even months⁠—before he will be able to tell us what he came to tell.”

“I’ll do my best, Poirot,” I assured him. “I’ll try to be an efficient substitute.”

“Ye‑es.”