Peril at End House; The Body in the Library; Hercule Poirot's Christmas
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The Body in the Library
There are many ways of emerging from the world of sleep into that of wakefulness and activity. For some the method is the stridently crude method of the jangling alarm clock. For Mrs Bantry it was the enviably civilised luxury of early morning tea brought by her maid. But there came a morning when this general routine was broken. Mary's footsteps were not accompanied by the comforting chink of tea things; and her knock at the bedroom door was followed by her voice, breathless and close to hysteria: "Oh, m'am! Oh, m'am! There's a body in the library!" There was indeed a body in the library. A young and rather beautiful body - of a beautiful storybook blonde. Quite dead, and utterly mysterious at first. But Mrs Bantry had the good fortune to be a friend of fiction's most unlikely detective - the amazing Miss Marple. And Miss Marple, as Mrs Bantry was well aware, is very good at bodies.
There are many ways of emerging from the world of sleep into that of wakefulness and activity. For some the method is the stridently crude method of the jangling alarm clock. For Mrs Bantry it was the enviably civilised luxury of early morning tea brought by her maid. But there came a morning when this general routine was broken. Mary's footsteps were not accompanied by the comforting chink of tea things; and her knock at the bedroom door was followed by her voice, breathless and close to hysteria: "Oh, m'am! Oh, m'am! There's a body in the library!" There was indeed a body in the library. A young and rather beautiful body - of a beautiful storybook blonde. Quite dead, and utterly mysterious at first. But Mrs Bantry had the good fortune to be a friend of fiction's most unlikely detective - the amazing Miss Marple. And Miss Marple, as Mrs Bantry was well aware, is very good at bodies.
Peril at End House
Poirot had announced his irrevocable decision: he would leave the business of disentangling crime to others in future. Nothing could change his mind. He would even, from now on, refuse to investigate a bullet missing his head by inches! So he said. But now, Poirot being Poirot, what could he do? The pebble striking the ground, which had inspired the remark, had been a bullet. In itself this might not have affected his resolve - but a second bullet just misses a young lady who is quite unaware of her narrow escape, and when the young lady happens to be exceptionally attractive, and knowingly to have had three escapes from sudden death in as many days ... well, Poirot is Poirot; and retirement must be postponed.
Poirot had announced his irrevocable decision: he would leave the business of disentangling crime to others in future. Nothing could change his mind. He would even, from now on, refuse to investigate a bullet missing his head by inches! So he said. But now, Poirot being Poirot, what could he do? The pebble striking the ground, which had inspired the remark, had been a bullet. In itself this might not have affected his resolve - but a second bullet just misses a young lady who is quite unaware of her narrow escape, and when the young lady happens to be exceptionally attractive, and knowingly to have had three escapes from sudden death in as many days ... well, Poirot is Poirot; and retirement must be postponed.
Hercule Poirot's Christmas
Poirot's view of Christmas was not that of Mr. Pickwick - at least not in all respects. A season of good cheer? Yes. But what then? After the eating, the overeating; then the consequent indigestion which gives rise to irritability, quarrels and, yes, murder. This cynical attitude was not, it must be supposed, intended as a serious generalization, however much Poirot's experience had encouraged him to develop a highly individualistic view of his fellow-men and their potentialities. But the gathering at Gorston Hall was at least to prove that Christmas is as good a time as any other - in this case perhaps the best possible time - for a cunningly staged murder.
Poirot's view of Christmas was not that of Mr. Pickwick - at least not in all respects. A season of good cheer? Yes. But what then? After the eating, the overeating; then the consequent indigestion which gives rise to irritability, quarrels and, yes, murder. This cynical attitude was not, it must be supposed, intended as a serious generalization, however much Poirot's experience had encouraged him to develop a highly individualistic view of his fellow-men and their potentialities. But the gathering at Gorston Hall was at least to prove that Christmas is as good a time as any other - in this case perhaps the best possible time - for a cunningly staged murder.
