Poirot and I often dined at a small restaurant in Soho. We were there one evening, when we observed a friend at an adjacent table. It was Inspector Ja...
It was mid-January—a typical English winter day in London, damp and dirty. Poirot and I were sitting in two chairs well drawn up to the fire. I ...
Not often in a life-time does a man stand on the edge of eternity, but when I spoke those words in that East End cellar I was perfectly certain that t...
I was very disappointed with the results of Poirot's bomb attack on the premises in Chinatown. To begin with, the leader of the gang had escaped. ...
It was after the tragic death of Miss Flossie Monro that I began to be aware of a change in Poirot. Up to now, his invincible confidence in himself ha...
Even now I can hardly bear to write of those days in March.Poirot—the unique, the inimitable Hercule Poirot—dead! There was a particularly...
From our quiet retreat in the Ardennes we watched the progress of affairs in the great world. We were plentifully supplied with newspapers, and every ...
I could not have been unconscious more than a minute. I came to myself being hustled along between two men. They had me under each arm, supporting my ...
Nadina, the Russian dancer who had taken Paris by storm, swayed to the sound of the applause, bowed and bowed again. Her narrow black eyes narrowed th...
Everybody has been at me, right and left, to write this story from the great (represented by Lord Nasby) to the small (represented by our late maid of...