Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories: A Hercule Poirot Collection with Foreword by Charles Todd (Hercule Poirot Mysteries)
At last, a single volume that gathers together all of the short stories featuring Agatha Christie's most famous creation: Hercule Poirot. The dapper, mustache-twirling little Belgian with the egg-shaped head and curious mannerisms has solved some of the most puzzling crimes of the century—and, in his own humble opinion, is "probably the greatest detective in the world."
In this complete collection of stories, ranging from short tales to novellas, Poirot faces violent murders, poisonings, kidnappings, and thefts—all solved with his characteristic panache. Only Agatha Christie could have devised cases worthy of Hercule Poirot's skill and "little gray cells."
police, had returned to Ebermouth by an early morning train. We lunched with Joseph Aarons, and after lunch, Poirot announced to me that he had settled the theatrical agent’s problem satisfactorily, and that we could return to Ebermouth as soon as we liked. “But not by road, mon ami; we go by rail this time.” “Are you afraid of having your pocket picked, or of meeting another damsel in distress?” “Both those affairs, Hastings, might happen to me on the train. No, I am in haste to be back in
who was Hugo’s main hope, had set his heart on Hugo making a match of it with Ruth. Hugo’s a bit weak, you know. He might agree to this marriage and count on being able to get out of it later.” “That idea did not commend itself to you, mademoiselle?” inquired Poirot gently. “Definitely not. Ruth might have gone all peculiar and refused to divorce him or something. I put my foot down. No trotting off to St. Paul’s, Knightsbridge, until I could be there dithering with a sheaf of lilies.” “So you
you know why Miss Valetta left her post?” The woman hesitated a moment before saying: “I couldn’t say, I’m sure.” “She was dismissed, was she not?” “Well—I believe there was a bit of a dustup! But mind you, Miss Valetta didn’t let on much about it. She wasn’t one to give things away. But she looked wild about it. Wicked temper she had—real Eyetalian—her black eyes all snapping and looking as if she’d like to put a knife into you. I wouldn’t have crossed her when she was in one of her moods!”
and distraught. “I got your wire and came up at once. Look here, I’ve been round to Hoffberg, and they know nothing about that man of theirs last night, or the wire either. Do you think that—” Poirot held up his hand. “My excuses! I sent that wire, and hired the gentleman in question.” “You—but why? What?” The nobleman spluttered impotently. “My little idea was to bring things to a head,” explained Poirot placidly. “Bring things to a head! Oh, my God!” cried Lord Yardly. “And the ruse
to keep my mouth shut. “Unfortunately, impossible as it seems, it is only too true,” continued his lordship. Poirot looked at Mr. Dodge. “You said just now, monsieur, that time was everything. What did you mean by that?” The two men exchanged glances, and then Lord Estair said: “You have heard, Monsieur Poirot, of the approaching Allied Conference?” My friend nodded. “For obvious reasons, no details have been given of when and where it is to take place. But, although it has been kept out of