akorn - Mighty Old Tales Retold

The Disappearance of Mr Davenheim

The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim
Poirot and I were expecting our old friend Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard to tea. We were sitting round the tea-table awaiting his arrival. Poirot had just finished carefully straightening the cups and saucers which our landlady was in the habit of throwing, rather than placing, on the table. He had also breathed heavily on the metal teapot, and polished it with a silk handkerchief. The kettle was on the boil, and a small enamel saucepan beside it contained some thick, sweet chocolate which was more to Poirot’s palate than what he described as “your English poison.” A sharp “rat-tat” sounded below, and a few minutes afterwards Japp entered briskly.
 

The Kidnapped Prime Minister

The Kidnapped Prime Minister
Now that war and the problems of war are things of the past, I think I may safely venture to reveal to the world the part which my friend Poirot played in a moment of national crisis. The secret has been well guarded. Not a whisper of it reached the Press. But, now that the need for secrecy has gone by, I feel it is only just that England should know the debt it owes to my quaint little friend, whose marvellous brain so ably averted a great catastrophe.
 

The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan

The Jewel Robbery at the Grand Metropolitan
“Poirot,” I said, “a change of air would do you good."
“You think so, mon ami?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Eh—eh?” said my friend, smiling. “It is all arranged, then?”
“You will come?”
“Where do you propose to take me?”
“Brighton. As a matter of fact, a friend of mine in the City put me on to a very good thing, and—well, I have money to burn, as the saying goes. I think a week-end at the Grand Metropolitan would do us all the good in the world.”

The Million Dollar Bond Robbery

The Million Dollar Bond Robbery
“What a number of bond robberies there have been lately!” I observed one morning, laying aside the newspaper. “Poirot, let us forsake the science of detection, and take to crime instead!”
“You are on the—how do you say it?—get-rich-quick tack, eh, mon ami?”
“Well, look at this last coup, the million dollars’ worth of Liberty Bonds which the London and Scottish Bank were sending to New York, and which disappeared in such a remarkable manner on board the Olympia.”
“If it were not for the mal de mer, and the difficulty of practising the so excellent method of Laverguier for a longer time than the few hours of crossing the channel, I should delight to voyage myself on one of these big liners,” murmured Poirot dreamily.
 

The Mystery of Hunter's Lodge

The Mystery of Hunter’s Lodge
“After all,” murmured Poirot, “it is possible that I shall not die this time.”
Coming from a convalescent influenza patient, I hailed the remark as showing a beneficial optimism. I myself had been the first sufferer from the disease. Poirot in his turn had gone down. He was now sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows, his head muffled in a woollen shawl, and was slowly sipping a particularly noxious tisane which I had prepared according to his directions. His eye rested with pleasure upon a neatly graduated row of medicine bottles which adorned the mantelpiece.
“Yes, yes,” my little friend continued. “Once more shall I be myself again, the great Hercule Poirot...”

The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor

The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor
I had been called away from town for a few days, and on my return found Poirot in the act of strapping up his small valise.
“A la bonne heure, Hastings. I feared you would not have returned in time to accompany me."
“You are called away on a case, then?”
“Yes, though I am bound to admit that, on the face of it, the affair does not seem promising."
 

The Adventure of the Cheap Flat

The Adventure of the Cheap Flat
So far, in the cases which I have recorded, Poirot’s investigations have started from the central fact, whether murder or robbery, and have proceeded from thence by a process of logical deduction to the final triumphant unravelling. In the events I am now about to chronicle, a remarkable chain of circumstances led from the apparently trivial incidents which first attracted Poirot’s attention to the sinister happenings which completed a most unusual case.
 

The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb

The Adventure of the Egyptian Tomb
I have always considered that one of the most thrilling and dramatic of the many adventures I have shared with Poirot was that of our investigation into the strange series of deaths which followed upon the discovery and opening of the Tomb of King Men-her-Ra.
 

The Adventure of the 'Western Star'

The Adventure of “The Western Star”
I was standing at the window of Poirot’s rooms looking out idly on the street below.
“That’s queer,” I ejaculated suddenly beneath my breath.
“What is, mon ami?” asked Poirot placidly, from the depths of his comfortable chair.
“Deduce, Poirot, from the following facts! Here is a young lady, richly dressed—fashionable hat, magnificent furs. She is coming along slowly, looking up at the houses as she goes. Unknown to her, she is being shadowed by three men and a middle-aged woman. They have just been joined by an errand boy who points after the girl, gesticulating as he does so. What drama is this being played? Is the girl a crook, and are the shadowers detectives preparing to arrest her? Or are they the scoundrels, and are they plotting to attack an innocent victim? What does the great detective say?

The Murder on the Links - Chapter 28 - THE END

Journey’s End
I have confused memories of the further events of that night. Poirot seemed deaf to my repeated questions. He was engaged in overwhelming Françoise with reproaches for not having told him of Mrs. Renauld’s change of sleeping quarters.
I caught him by the shoulder, determined to attract his attention, and make myself heard.
“But you must have known,” I expostulated. “You were taken up to see her this afternoon.”
Poirot deigned to attend to me for a brief moment.
“She had been wheeled on a sofa into the middle room—her boudoir,” he explained.
“But, monsieur,” cried Françoise, “Madame changed her room almost immediately after the crime! The associations—they were too distressing!”
“Then why was I not told,” vociferated Poirot, striking the table, and working himself into a first-class passion. “I demand you—why—was—I—not—told? You are an old woman completely imbecile! And Léonie and Denise are no better. All of you are triple idiots! Your stupidity has nearly caused the death of your mistress. But for this courageous child—”