The Hollow; The Moving Finger; Three Act Tragedy
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The Moving Finger
Lymstock seemed an ideal place for Jerry's convalescence. Partly because that convalescence was likely to be a long one. In this quiet English village, with its pleasant people and its tranquil atmosphere there would be little happening that could distract one from the important job of getting better. Then came the letter, an anonymous letter, scurrilous in its accusation and coarsely vulgar in its mode of expression. Clearly, not everyone in this quiet village was nice to know. It turned out that the sender's unwelcome attentions had been, and were being, directed at other members of the community; and the sufferers were not confined to a single social group. Life in Lymstock was undergoing a disturbing change, and the tempo of the drama in which it was involved was increasing. Scandal, suicide, murder: police investigations revealed some startling facts, but still the letters came. Not until the astute Miss Marple, expert in human wickedness, took a hand did Lymstock begin to see the light.
Lymstock seemed an ideal place for Jerry's convalescence. Partly because that convalescence was likely to be a long one. In this quiet English village, with its pleasant people and its tranquil atmosphere there would be little happening that could distract one from the important job of getting better. Then came the letter, an anonymous letter, scurrilous in its accusation and coarsely vulgar in its mode of expression. Clearly, not everyone in this quiet village was nice to know. It turned out that the sender's unwelcome attentions had been, and were being, directed at other members of the community; and the sufferers were not confined to a single social group. Life in Lymstock was undergoing a disturbing change, and the tempo of the drama in which it was involved was increasing. Scandal, suicide, murder: police investigations revealed some startling facts, but still the letters came. Not until the astute Miss Marple, expert in human wickedness, took a hand did Lymstock begin to see the light.
The Hollow
It was an odd way to meet one's host and fellow guests. And Poirot was not very amused. They were grouped at the side of the swimming pool, one of their number with a revolver in her hand; another lay prone at the pool's edge. Poirot hurried forward wondering how to respond to this outre joke without himself giving offence. He looked down at the prostrate figure, and the man opened his eyes and stared back. It was then that Poirot realised that what he had taken to be a jest was something very different, and that what he had thought was red paint was something else. This man had only seconds to live!
It was an odd way to meet one's host and fellow guests. And Poirot was not very amused. They were grouped at the side of the swimming pool, one of their number with a revolver in her hand; another lay prone at the pool's edge. Poirot hurried forward wondering how to respond to this outre joke without himself giving offence. He looked down at the prostrate figure, and the man opened his eyes and stared back. It was then that Poirot realised that what he had taken to be a jest was something very different, and that what he had thought was red paint was something else. This man had only seconds to live!
Three Act Tragedy
Bartholemew Strange had had a successful life. A well known and respected Harley Street physician, the announcement of a knighthood in the Birthday Honours list probably surprised no one who knew him. Not at all the kind of person one would expect to die violently, especially by poison. But then, facts are facts; and Sir Bartholemew was dead - and dead of nicotine poisoning with nothing to show how it had been administered. Then there had been the sudden death, earlier, of the Rev. Stephen Babbington. One would not expect a parson to die like that, either. Hercule Poirot realises he is in the middle of a three act tragedy and sets about finding out who is mixing the fatal cocktails.
Bartholemew Strange had had a successful life. A well known and respected Harley Street physician, the announcement of a knighthood in the Birthday Honours list probably surprised no one who knew him. Not at all the kind of person one would expect to die violently, especially by poison. But then, facts are facts; and Sir Bartholemew was dead - and dead of nicotine poisoning with nothing to show how it had been administered. Then there had been the sudden death, earlier, of the Rev. Stephen Babbington. One would not expect a parson to die like that, either. Hercule Poirot realises he is in the middle of a three act tragedy and sets about finding out who is mixing the fatal cocktails.
