The Big Four: A Hercule Poirot Mystery

By Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie’s The Big Four enjoyed commercial success at the time of its publication in 1927, despite lukewarm critical reviews. Deviating from her earlier writing style, Christie presents several smaller mysteries within a larger one. Renowned private detective Hercule Poirot, pulled into a world of intrigue and espionage, sets out to break up an international group of four criminal masterminds. In this follow-up to The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Christie has crafted an action-packed plot filled with colorful characters whose aim is world domination. The offbeat novel takes readers on a fast-paced thrill ride from England and France to Belgium and Italy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Release date: May 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9780486850894

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is known throughout the world as the Queen of Crime. Her books have sold over a billion copies in English with another billion in over 70 foreign languages. She is the most widely published author of all time and in any language, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. She is the author of 80 crime novels and short story collections, 20 plays, and six novels written under the name of Mary Westmacott.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Unexpected Guest

I have met people who enjoy a channel crossing; men who can sit calmly in their deck chairs and, on arrival, wait until the boat is moored, then gather their belongings together without fuss and disembark. Personally, I can never manage this. From the moment I get on board I feel that the time is too short to settle down to anything. I move my suitcases from one spot to another, and if I go down to the saloon for a meal, I bolt my food with an uneasy feeling that the boat may arrive unexpectedly whilst I am below. Perhaps all this is merely a legacy from one’s short leaves in the war, when it seemed a matter of such importance to secure a place near the gangway, and to be amongst the first to disembark lest one should waste precious minutes of one’s three or five days’ leave.

On this particular July morning, as I stood by the rail and watched the white cliffs of Dover drawing nearer, I marvelled at the passengers who could sit calmly in their chairs and never even raise their eyes for the first sight of their native land. Yet perhaps their case was different from mine. Doubtless many of them had only crossed to Paris for the weekend, whereas I had spent the last year and a half on a ranch in the Argentine. I had prospered there, and my wife and I had both enjoyed the free and easy life of the South American continent, nevertheless it was with a lump in my throat that I watched the familiar shore draw nearer and nearer.

I had landed in France two days before, transacted some nec­essary business, and was now en route for London. I should be there some months—time enough to look up old friends, and one old friend in particular. A little man with an egg-shaped head and green eyes—­Hercule Poirot! I proposed to take him completely by surprise. My last letter from the Argentine had given no hint of my intended voyage—indeed, that had been decided upon hurriedly as a result of certain business complications—and I spent many amused moments picturing to myself his delight and stupefaction on beholding me.

He, I knew, was not likely to be far from his headquarters. The time when his cases had drawn him from one end of England to the other was past. His fame had spread, and no longer would he allow one case to absorb all his time. He aimed more and more, as time went on, at being considered a consulting detective—as much a specialist as a Harley Street physician. He had always scoffed at the popular idea of the human bloodhound who assumed wonderful disguises to track criminals, and who paused at every footprint to measure it.

No, my friend Hastings, he would say, we leave that to Giraud and his friends. Hercule Poirot’s methods are his own. Order and method, and ‘the little grey cells.’ Sitting at ease in our own armchairs we see the things that these others overlook, and we do not jump to the conclusion like the worthy Japp.

No; there was little fear of finding Hercule Poirot far afield. On arrival in London, I deposited my luggage at a hotel and drove straight on to the old address. What poignant memories it brought back to me! I hardly waited to greet my old landlady, but hurried up the stairs two at a time and rapped on Poirot’s door.

Enter, then, cried a familiar voice from within.

I strode in. Poirot stood facing me. In his arms he carried a small valise, which he dropped with a crash on beholding me.

"Mon ami, Hastings! he cried. Mon ami, Hastings!"

And, rushing forward, he enveloped me in a capacious em­brace. Our conversation was incoherent and inconsequent. Ejacula­tions, eager questions, incomplete answers, messages from my wife, explanations as to my journey, were all jumbled up together.

I suppose there’s someone in my old rooms? I asked at last, when we had calmed down somewhat. I’d love to put up here again with you.

Poirot’s face changed with startling suddenness.

"Mon Dieu! but what a chance épouvantable. Regard around you, my friend."

For the first time I took note of my surroundings. Against the wall stood a vast ark of a trunk of prehistoric design. Near to it were placed a number of suitcases, ranged neatly in order of size from large to small. The inference was unmistakable.

You are going away?

Yes.

Where to?

South America.

"What?"

Yes, it is a droll farce, is it not? It is to Rio I go, and every day I say to myself, I will write nothing in my letters—but oh! the surprise of the good Hastings when he beholds me!

But when are you going?

Poirot looked at his watch.

In an hour’s time.

I thought you always said nothing would induce you to make a long sea voyage?

Poirot closed his eyes and shuddered.

Speak not of it to me, my friend. My doctor, he assures me that one dies not of it—and it is for the one time only; you under­stand, that never—never shall I return.

He pushed me into a chair.

Come, I will tell you how it all came about. Do you know who is the richest man in the world? Richer even than Rockefeller? Abe Ryland.

The American Soap King?

"Precisely. One of his secretaries approached me. There is some very considerable, as you would call it, hocus-pocus going on in connection with a big company in Rio. He wished me to investi­gate matters on the spot. I refused. I told him that if the facts were laid before me, I would give him my expert opinion. But that he professed himself unable to do. I was to be put in possession of the facts only on my arrival out there. Normally, that would have closed the matter. To dictate to Hercule Poirot is sheer imperti­nence. But the sum offered was so stupendous that for the first time in my life I was tempted by mere money. It was a competence—a fortune! And there was a second attraction—you, my friend. For this last year and a half I have been a very lonely old man. I thought to myself, Why not? I am beginning to weary of this unending solving of foolish problems. I have achieved sufficient fame. Let me take this money and settle down somewhere near my old friend."

I was quite affected by this token of Poirot’s regard.

So I accepted, he continued, and in an hour’s time I must leave to catch the boat train. One of life’s little ironies, is it not? But I will admit to you, Hastings, that had not the money offered been so big, I might have hesitated, for just lately I have begun a little investigation of my own. Tell me, what is commonly meant by the phrase, ‘The Big Four?’

I suppose it had its origin at the Versailles Conference, and then there’s the famous ‘Big Four’ in the film world, and the term is used by hosts of smaller fry.

I see, said Poirot thoughtfully. I have come across the phrase, you understand, under certain circumstances where none of those explanations would apply. It seems to refer to a gang of international criminals or something of that kind; only——

Only what? I asked, as he hesitated.

Only that I fancy that it is something on a large scale. Just a little idea of mine, nothing more. Ah, but I must complete my packing. The time advances.

Don’t go, I urged. Cancel your package and come out on the same boat with me.

Poirot drew himself up and glanced at me reproachfully.

Ah, is it that you don’t understand! I have passed my word, you comprehend—the word of Hercule Poirot. Nothing but a mat­ter of life or death could detain me now.

And that’s not likely to occur, I murmured ruefully. Un­less at the eleventh hour ‘the door opens and the unexpected guest comes in.’

I quoted the old saw with a slight laugh, and then, in the pause that succeeded it, we both started as a sound came from the inner room.

What’s that? I cried.

"Ma foi! retorted Poirot. It sounds very like your ‘unex­pected guest’ in my bedroom."

But how can anyone be in there? There’s no door except into this room.

Your memory is excellent, Hastings. Now for the deductions.

The window! But it’s a burglar, then? He must have had a stiff climb of it—I should say it was almost impossible.

I had risen to my feet and was striding in the direction of the door when the sound of fumbling at the handle from the other side arrested me.

The door swung slowly open. Framed in the doorway stood a man. He was coated from head to foot with dust and mud; his face was thin and emaciated. He stared at us for a moment, and then swayed and fell. Poirot hurried to his side, then he looked up and spoke to me.

Brandy—quickly.

I dashed some brandy into a glass and brought it. Poirot man­aged to administer a little, and together we raised him and carried him to the couch. In a few minutes he opened his eyes and looked round him with an almost vacant stare.

What is it you want, monsieur? asked Poirot.

The man opened his lips and spoke in a queer mechanical voice.

M. Hercule Poirot, 14 Farraway Street.

Yes, yes; I am he.

The man did not seem to understand, and merely repeated in exactly the same tone:

M. Hercule Poirot, 14 Farraway Street.

Poirot tried him with several questions. Sometimes the man did not answer at all; sometimes he repeated the same phrase. Poirot made a sign to me to ring up on the telephone.

Get Dr. Ridgeway to come round.

The doctor was in, luckily; and as his house was only just round the corner, few minutes elapsed before he came bustling in.

What’s all this, eh?

Poirot gave him a brief explanation, and the doctor started ex­amining our strange visitor, who seemed quite unconscious of his presence or ours.

H’m! said Dr. Ridgeway, when he had finished. Curious case.

Brain fever? I suggested.

The doctor immediately snorted with contempt.

Brain fever! Brain fever! No such thing as brain fever. An in­vention of novelists. No; the man’s had a shock of some kind. He’s come here under the force of a persistent idea—to find M. Hercule Poirot, 14 Farraway Street—and he repeats those words mechani­cally without in the least knowing what they mean.

Aphasia? I said eagerly.

This suggestion did not cause the doctor to snort quite as vio­lently as my last one had done. He made no answer, but handed the man a sheet of paper and a pencil.

Let’s see what he’ll do with that, he remarked.

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.

His rejoinder struck me as being a shade doubtful. I picked up the sheet of paper.

If I were writing a story, I said lightly, "I should weave this in with your latest idiosyncrasy and call it The Mystery of the Big Four." I tapped the pencilled figures as I spoke.

And then I started, for our invalid, roused suddenly from his stupor, sat up in his chair and said clearly and distinctly:

Li Chang Yen.

He had the look of a man suddenly awakened from sleep. Poi­rot made a sign to me not to speak. The man went on. He spoke in a clear, high voice, and something in his enunciation made me feel that he was quoting from some written report or lecture.

"Li Chang Yen may be regarded as representing the brains of the Big Four. He is the controlling and motive force. I have des­ignated him, therefore, as Number One. Number Two is seldom mentioned by name. He is represented by an ‘S’ with two lines through it—the sign for a dollar; also by two stripes and a star. It may be conjectured, therefore, that he is an American subject, and that he represents the power of wealth. There seems no doubt that Number Three is a woman, and her nationality French. It is pos­sible that she may be one of the sirens of the demimonde, but nothing is known definitely. Number Four——"

His voice faltered and broke. Poirot leant forward.

Yes, he prompted eagerly, Number Four?

His eyes were fastened on the man’s face. Some overmastering terror seemed to be gaining the day; the features were distorted and twisted.

"The destroyer," gasped the man. Then, with a final convulsed movement, he fell back in a dead faint.

"Mon Dieu! whispered Poirot, I was right then. I was right."

You think——?

He interrupted me.

Carry him on to the bed in my room. I have not a minute to lose if I would catch my train. Not that I want to catch it. Oh, that I could miss it with a clear conscience! But I gave my word. Come, Hastings!

Leaving our mysterious visitor in the charge of Mrs. ­Pearson, we drove away, and duly caught the train by the skin of our teeth. Poirot was alternately silent and loquacious. He would sit staring out of the window like a man lost in a dream, apparently not hear­ing a word that I said to him. Then, reverting to animation sud­denly, he would shower injunctions and commands upon me, and urge the necessity of constant marconigrams.

We had a long fit of silence just after we passed Woking. The train, of course, did not stop anywhere until Southampton; but just here it happened to be held up by a signal.

"Ah! Sacré mille tonnerres! cried Poirot suddenly. But I have been an imbecile. I see clearly at last. It is undoubtedly the blessed saints who stopped the train. Jump, Hastings, but jump, I tell you."

In an instant he had unfastened the carriage door, and jumped out on the line.

Throw out the suitcases and jump yourself.

I obeyed him. Just in time. As I alighted beside him, the train moved on.

And now, Poirot, I said, in some exasperation, perhaps you will tell me what all this is about.

It is, my friend, that I have seen the light.

That, I said, is very illuminating to me.

It should be, said Poirot, but I fear—I very much fear that it is not. If you can carry two of these valises, I think I can manage the rest.

Chapter Two

The Man from the Asylum

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

Reviews for The Big Four

[pcollins-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I haven't read a lot of Agatha Christie but this was certainly the most clichéd mystery novel I have read. Hastings comes across as more dim-witted than usual and all the villains are stereotypes of 20s racial views. The story is certainly of its time but not the best of Christie from what I've read so far.

[readafew · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A Hurcule Poirot mystery. This was not one of his better ones. I think it was written later and was an attempt to give Poirot a more challengeing foe as well as write an international spy novel. It was an enjoyable read but is not nearly as believable as most of the other Poirot novels.

[breakerfallen · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A decent book that owes a lot to Arthur Conan Doyle. A lot. I prefer more character development than this, which is mainly a loose collection of short stories based around a central theme. Still, the relationship between Poirot and Hastings is well displayed.

[sriemann_2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An excellent Christie work. There are many small mysteries solved by the little grey-celled Belgian that all stack together to lead to the Big Four themselves and their crimes.

[jimgysin_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The eponymous Big Four are a global group of criminal masterminds, and Hercule Poirot is on their case. Through a series of short and largely independent mysteries (it turns out that they were all short stories originally, and then combined into the novel later on), Poirot and Hastings learn more about the bad guys and ultimately put them away. In many ways, this one has more in common with a Saturday adventure matinee or a pulp novel of the period than it has in common with the usual Christie cozy, but it's still a lot of fun, even as the reader continues to see the evolution of Christie's style and the genre home that she is slowly carving for herself. Where characterizations are concerned, this one also shows a Christie who is still learning her way, as the people we meet are largely cardboard stereotypes of their respective ethnicities and the like. In many ways, I could have easily seen this being an outing for the likes of The Shadow or Doc Savage instead of Poirot, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

[rosalita_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I read a few of Christie's detective series featuring Hercule Poirot in my wayward youth, but now I'm working my way through them in order. This entry finds the funny little Belgian with the "little gray cells" up against a vast international conspiracy called The Big Four. It takes all of Poirot's ingenuity and even a little help from the dim-witted Hastings (back in London for a visit, having left the wife he met and married in [Murder on the Links] back in Argentina). As usual, Christie's plotting is first-rate. I was intrigued by the structure of the book, which is almost a series of interconnected stories (more accurately nearly standalone chapters) leading up to the big denouement.

[nmhale_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I love the Grand Dame of mystery, and Hercule Poirot is one of my favorites. His adventures can be quite different from each other, but this is the first Poirot book I've read where Christie indulged in her secret criminal conspiracy plot device. She clearly had a fondness for spy intrigue and shady evil organizations, and I've read some of her other books that develop this theme, but never with Poirot before. While I find her books in this vein entertaining, I do prefer her more pure mysteries. The evil masterminds strike me as cartoony and unbelievable. I am being harsh - I like Noir style mysteries, and the Thin Man series, and they have many traits in common, but I suppose I am happier when Christie is spinning out a web of lies and deceit in an intimate setting of family and friends, rather than crafting spy capers. To leave meandering, and address this particular book, I did enjoy it, and read through it in only two days. The story reunites Poirot with his old friend Hastings, who serves as a wonderful foil to his sleuthing. Hastings rightly points out Poirot's arrogance and finicky ways, but consistently overestimates his own talents and intelligence, and is righteously indignant when anyone points out his flaws (especially in comparison with Poirot). Nonetheless, the two men are close friends, and the story begins with Hastings embarked on a surprise visit. He lives in South America, but is in England for business. However, when he arrives at Poirot's flat, the Belgian is about to embark on a business trip to South America! Poirot is reluctant to go - he has been occupied with a mysterious organization called the Big Four, who he suspects are mastermind criminals. Poirot made a promise, though, and he intends to keep it. Until an unexpected visitor joins them, walking into the sitting room from Poirot's bedroom.The man is covered in mud and nearly catatonic. He keeps repeating the same phrases over and over. More unusual, of course, is the fact that he arrived from the bedroom of a flat on an upper story, where the only entry is a window, and that he is rambling about the Big Four. Poroit eventually realizes that his trip to South America was arranged by the mysterious 4, and he promptly heads back to his flat, but not in time to stop the bad guys from killing his visitor, who turns out to be a part of British secret intelligence. Now that Poirot's suspicions are confirmed, the hunt is on, and he will stop at nothing to track down and destroy the Big Four. Although the book is a novel, it often feels like a collection of short stories. In order to fight the Big Four, Poirot and Hastings follow every lead they find that is connected to the group. These nebulous connections lead into mini mysteries of their own, like the old man with his throat slit in his own house when no strangers visited the town, and the scientist who went missing in France. Some of the smaller episodes are more spy adventure, such as when Hastings goes undercover in the rich American's house to find out if he is one of the infamous four. Eventually, Poirot learns how to anticipate his opponents' moves, and puts all the random clues and leads together, planning a way to completely outmaneuver the Big Four and end their tyranny.While not my favorite Poirot adventure, this novel is still highly entertaining and readable. The relationship between Poirot and Hastings is precious. Several times I laughed aloud at things one of them said. The small mysteries are satisfying, and the ending is appropriately grand and melodramatic. I know not everyone likes Christie mysteries, but I don't understand why, because she is such fun. This is not one of her finest works, but it's still a good time.

[bbbart-1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is, up to now, my least favourite in the Poirot series. Of course, it's fun to read as the writing style of Christie as such is as good as ever. However, The Big Four is more of a thriller story than a real detective narrative. Afterwards, I read that it was composed of separately published short stories and that Christie herself noted ``I have been, once, in a position where I wanted to write just for the sake of money coming in and when I felt I couldn't – it is a nerve wracking feeling. [...] That was the time I had to produce that rotten book The Big Four [...]''. One can tell. :-(

[ianigsy · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A thriller rather than a whodunnit, this adventure sets Poirot and Hastings up against a mysterious group plotting to control the world. An enjoyable read if slightly episodic in places, and an abrupt resolution which doesn't quite match the feel of the rest of the book.

[princesserin · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Poirot is up against a group of four expert criminals who attempt to lead him into a trap in their determination to cause international upheaval. Very well written and suspenseful.

[page.fault · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Poirot is brought up against an international conspiracy headed by the melodramatically-named Big Four: four individuals from America, France, China, and England. Poirot faces each in a series of extremely contrived adventures. The story is extremely cheesy, but lots of fun. Not a story to be taken seriously, but an enjoyable romp.

[jguidry-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I am a huge Agatha Christie fan and I absolutely adore Hercule Poirot, but this book fell flat for me. It seemed that Dame Agatha tried too much with this one. There were so many conspiracies going on and so many plot twists, that Hastings wasn't the only clueless person around. Plus all of the times that Poirot foiled the plots of the Big Four, but did not manage to capture them, made the story appear to drag on forever. However, it IS Agatha Christie and it IS Hercule Poirot, so I still enjoyed it nonetheless.

[omphalos02 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favourite Christie books. It is shaped somewhat differently than your run-of-the-mill murder mystery, I but I believe she did try to challenge herself (and her readers) by breaking with tradtional formulae. The introduction of Poirot's "brother" is a nice touch, too.

[dasam-5 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

A mildly amusing ripoff of Sherlock Holmes jousting with Moriarty.

[figgles_1 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Early thriller-style Poirot with Poirot and Hastings tracking down an international gang of four bent on world domination. Not as good as her character based murder mysteries but not an unpleasant diversion. All the Queens of crime try the thriller genre and they are generally their weakest works.

[mmyoung_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

A great disappointment after the skillful and inventive The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. The Big Four barely holds together as a book. Indeed it may not be said to have a plot at all. Instead it is a series of vignettes that are tied together with the loosest of bindings. I presume what Christie was aiming for was a romp such as she had provided in several of her earlier books but this time with Poirot and Hastings at the center of the story. But instead of a romp she delivered a book that lacks both insight and joy with cardboard cutouts rather than characters.In many ways the most interesting thing about this book is the insight it gives into how precarious the world of the privileged middle-class seemed in the late 20s even before the stock market crash. Without doubt this book has no pretensions to realism yet at the same time it wouldn't have worked had it not played on the barely unconscious fears of the relatively monied that their world was tottering on the edge of something very frightening. All around they looked and they saw labour unrest and the overthrow of governments and they cannot believe that such things could hapen without some mastermind behind the scenes. Not, I think, because they thought that the workers had no reason to complain about anything but more because they really didn't believe that ordinary workers were capable of organizing themselves. And this book reflects the dream that if only the heads of those dread organizations could be cut off then the workers would subside back into their previous state of continual but safe discontent.

[ferrisscottr · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

My least favorite Agatha Christie book...it just didn't work having Poirot take on "The Big Four". Poirot works better in a tradional mystery setting (someone dies, there are clues, people get questioned, mystery gets solved).
Characters are still amazing. The Plot just wasn't up to her usual quality.

[madamejeanie · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Captain Hastings and Hercule Poirot investigate several quite varied crimes only to find a common thread running through them. Before long, Poirot believes that they are up against an international cabal that calls itself "The Big Four." It is made up of a brilliant Chinese strategist, a female French scientist, a very wealthy American, and a master of disguise who calls himself, simply, Number Four. Close calls and near catastrophes abound, and even though it has taken the better part of a year, Poirot's obsession with destroying The Big Four will either be realized or will be the death of him. Literally.This book took a slightly different track to the finish than Christie's other Poirot novels. It was great fun to read, though.

[bnielsen_30 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

England, ca 1927Kaptajn Hastings kommer uanmeldt på besøg fra Argentina for at besøge Hercule Poirot, men denne er uanmeldt på vej til at rejse til Sydamerika. Det forstyrres dog af en mand, Meyerlink, der har været forsvunden i 5 år, men nu dukker op for at advare Poirot om "De fire store" forbrydere ledet af Li Chang Yen, de andre tre er en mystisk amerikaner, en ditto fransk kvinde og nr fire kaldet Ødelæggeren.Inspektør Japp fra Skotland Yard er som altid kæk og munter, men uden at være den store hjælp.Meyerlink bliver myrdet på en måde, der ikke efterlader spor og så går Hercule Poirot i krig. En Mr. John Ingles er den, der bedst kender til organisationen og det er ikke meget. En mand ved navn Jonathan Whalley er næste spor, men han er allerede myrdet, da de når frem.Skurkene er ude efter verdensherredømmet. De har en kraftig stråle, som de kan rette hvorhen de ønsker det. En britisk flådeenhed er blevet udslettet, men det holdes hemmeligt. En videnskabsmand, Halliday, er forsvundet. Poirot opdager at Madame Olivier er den ene af De fire Store. Han retter også mistanken mod Abe Ryland og får Hastings smuglet ind som sekretær, velvidende at Hastings ikke er nogen god skuespiller. Ryland lægger en fælde for Poirot, men går tilsyneladende selv i den. Dog kun tilsyneladende, men nu ved Poirot at Ryland og Olivier og Li Chang Yen udgør tre af de fire. Den fjerde er en forrygende god forklædningskunstner og snigmorder. Han optræder som læge i Sagen om De gule Jasminer. En skakmatch mellem Gilmour Wilson og Dr. Savoronoff ender med at Wilson dør. Åbningstrækket var Ruy Lopez, også kaldet spansk åbning. Og Wilson blev dræbt med elektricitet gennem en skakbrik. Poirot gennemskuer plottet, men forbryderne flygter.Hastings bliver bortført, men befriet af Poirot. En miss Flossie Monro dukker op og giver Poirot et tip om sin kæreste Claud Darrell, der har det med at lege med brød ved bordet og så duppe krummerne op. Det koster hende livet. Senere bliver Poirot og Hastings kaldt til et hus, hvor der sker en eksplosion og da Hastings vågner, får han at vide at Poirot er død.Senere får han et brev angiveligt sendt posthumt af Poirot, der beder ham rejse til Sydamerika. Skibet standses af et orlogsfartøj og ombord finder han Poirot.Jagten kulminerer i Felsen-labyrinten, hvor Poirot afsløres som Achille Poirot, Hercules tvillingebror, men det er nu også fup.Skurkene bliver dræbt i en eksplosion. Li Chang Yen begår selvmord, Mr. Abe Ryland og Madame Olivier dør, Eller måske undslipper nummer fire? Grevinde Vera Rossakoff skifter side, fordi Poirot har fundet hendes forsvundne søn, og hjælper Hastings og Poirot til at undslippe.James Bond agtig, men skrevet inden James Bond bøgerne, så det må jo være James Bond, der er Poirot agtig.

[jrsearcher · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Stealing a bit of a page from Doyle/Sherlock, perhaps? The detective's faked death, the dim-witted friend who can't be let in on the secret. (Hastings is an idiot)

I found the out/escape a little "too easy", and other than Hastings presence, the book was an enjoyable read.

[haloedrain · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Really more of a spy novel than a mystery, though there were some smaller murder mysteries in there (another reviewer says these started out as independent short stories that were stiched together with connections to the Big 4 bolted on--I don't know if that's true, but it certainly could be). I enjoyed it anyway, but the end in particular really wanted James Bond, not Poirot.

[auntieknickers · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Plot is a bit far-fetched, but good fun as I remember, though modern readers may be taken aback by some of Christie's obvious prejudices.

[auntie0nanuuq · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

- ?

Four unknown powerful people: A Chinese, a Frenchwoman, an American businessman, & an Assassin are bent on taking over the world....

As Hastings arrives on a surprise visit to his "bon ami" M. Poirot, he finds M. Poirot on his way to South America on "business". It all turns out to be a wild goose chase in order to get M. Poirot out of the way so that the BIG 4 may put a plan of diabolical intelligence into play. An unknown man is in one of M. Poirot's rooms and is ranting about,Li Chang Yan, Chinese man of great power who is about unleash a diabolical plan..... M. Poirot & Hastings depart in order to learn more about Li Chang Yan from a well known Chinese antiquities scholar, leaving the man resting safely...

Upon returning to Poirot's home, they find the man poisoned and an attendant of the local asylum knocking on the door asking about the dead man (an escapee).... Upon further investigation the "escapee" turns out to be Mayerling from the CID who has gone missing years before and the "attendant" #4, the assassin.

The book continues, ad nauseum, in this vein.... One mysterious death, kidnapping, attempt on M. Poirot's life after another.... Bad enough that Hastings is always such a proficient bumbler, but that M. Poirot should be too?

The dang book, just went on too long and it seemed to be more of a comédie noire, than a serious mystery..... Just a plain waste of time and a annoyance.

[atimco-1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Like most of Christie's political suspense mysteries, The Big Four falls flat. The string of coincidences and lucky breaks would shame even Dickens, while the tricks and twists are so contrived that they're almost laughable. At one point Poirot and Hastings are captured and the criminal mastermind asks Poirot if he has any last requests. He asks to smoke a cigarette, which their captor places in Poirot's mouth. What do you know — the cigarette is actually a blowgun tipped with curare, allowing them to escape. And that's just one of the many impossibly silly moments in this story. Oy. The only redeeming feature of this novel is the humor. Poirot, as described by his friend Hastings, is quite funny. So is Hastings' own lack of self perception. Another comic bit comes in with the revelation that Poirot has a twin brother, Achille Poirot. "Do you not know that all celebrated detectives have brothers who would be even more celebrated than they are were it not for constitutional indolence?" Poirot asks the astonished Hastings. Hehe. I'm a Christie fan and enjoy most of her work, but I can't warm up to her efforts at international conspiracy stuff. Give me her country house, cozy mysteries any day — that's where she earns her reputation as one of the best-loved authors in the mystery genre.

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Big Four by Agatha Christie was first published in 1927 and features Hercule Poirot with assistance from his friend Hastings and Inspector Japp. Instead of being a work of detective fiction, this story is much more about espionage and international intrigue.Poirot and Hasting become involved in tracking down a crime consortium that calls itself The Big Four and appears to be focused on “world domination”. Headed by four international criminals, Poirot must first uncover the identities of each of the four. As the hunt commences, the book becomes more of a sensational adventure piece with Poirot as the action hero and Hastings as his trusty sidekick. The Big Four was written during a difficult period in Ms. Christie’s life, and began as a series of stories that were then mashed together as one. She herself has called it “that rotten book”. The Big Four really has none of the qualities that I look for in a Poirot book. Instead of sitting back, examining the evidence and putting his “little grey cells” to work, in this book he is donning disguises, faking his death and detonating smoke bombs, entirely too much action for the little detective. Luckily this book with it’s silly plot was a quick read and now can be shoved to the back of my mind and forgotten about.

[authorjanebnight · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Synopsis:This is book 5 in the Hercule Poirot Mystery Series. Poirot goes up against four super-villains. A Chinaman, a rich American, a French Woman, and "The Destroyer".My rating:2.5/5Of all the Hercule Poirot books, this has been my least favorite so far. I think that this book is one of those that either you love or you hate. It doesn't feel like a typical Poirot book. If you watch television series that do a musical episode or some other similar "artsy" episode that feels out of place in the series I think that is a comparison to this book.Typically, Poirot is solving mysteries involving people. He isn't wrapped up in conspiracies with people wanting to take over the world.Poirot also doesn't quite act like himself and things get zany. There were many times I felt like Poirot and Hastings were in a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon.I know some people have said this book is amazing and was perhaps Christie's tribute/shout-out/etc to Sherlock Holmes. I haven't read Sherlock Holmes so I can't comment on that. Whatever her reasons for writing it were I can appreciate that it exists and that Poirot can even win against world power super-villains but honestly I just want him to solve small-town murders of rich ladies who just changed their wills.I will note that the David Suchet televised version of this story takes a twist that turns it back into a more typical Poirot mystery and I think I liked that version better than Christie's own.If you are starting in the Poirot series do not start here because this isn't a good example of what the Poirot books are. If you read it and love it you may be disappointed with future books where Poirot is at places like Styles solving the poisoning of an old woman. If you hate this book because it is so zany and more James Bond-esque you will be missing out on an amazing opportunity to determine if Poirot is a detective you can enjoy.If you are reading this book as part of a series read then I think you will either love the novelty of it, as some do with the musical episodes of television series, or, like me, you will roll your eyes, accept it exists, and hope that the Queen of Mystery got that out of her system and won't ruin another Poirot mystery by trying to turn it into a super-spy thriller story. Poirot isn't James Bond and I don't want him to be. I want to see Poirot being Poirot. That is what he is good at and that is why I keep coming back again and again for more.

[clq_2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Part of my mission to read all the Christie-books, this is a Poirot mystery. Here Hercule takes on a case which turns out to be of global importance. This makes this book somewhat different in style to the standard "a guy has been killed by poison in his hot chocolate" kind of story. Not one of my favourites by Christie, but still a worthwhile read.

[tanya8dogearedcopy · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Just as Poirot is about to leave for South America (and Hastings arrives from South America,) a man wanders into Poirot's office/apartment deliriously muttering something about "The Big Four"... International intrigue and homicides notwithstanding, absolutely ridiculous plot and characters. It's hard to believe that this came from the same author who gave is, 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd'!

[bookangel_a · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of my favorite Poirot mysteries ever! Probably second to his last mystery, Curtain.Poirot and Hastings are on the trail of a criminal organization, and it really seems as though they are in over their heads. It's also a very active plot. Instead of Poirot spending most his time exercising his "little grey cells" in an armchair, he and Hastings do a lot of traveling.My favorite character in all fiction is Sherlock Holmes, and this book reminds me of Doyle's Holmes mysteries in many ways. I think there are even a few deliberate references written in by Christie. Some might complain and call it derivative, but I loved it!

[riverwillow · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This book is great for conspiracy theorists as Poirot battles the Big Four, whose goal is world domination. its also interesting as Poirot shows his romantic side.