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    The Labors of Hercules: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    The Labors of Hercules: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    The Labors of Hercules: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
    Ebook339 pages5 hours

    The Labors of Hercules: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition

    By Agatha Christie

    3.5/5

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    In appearance Hercule Poirot hardly resembled an ancient Greek hero. Yet—reasoned the detective—like Hercules he had been responsible for ridding society of some of its most unpleasant monsters.

    So, in the period leading up to his retirement, Poirot made up his mind to accept just twelve more cases: his self-imposed 'Labours'. Each would go down n the annals of crime as a heroic feat of deduction.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateOct 3, 2006
    ISBN9780061746383
    Author

    Agatha Christie

    Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

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    Reviews for The Labors of Hercules

    3.5/5

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    • 4/5
      The central conceit of this book is that the redoubtable Hercule Poirot will accept no more than twelve cases before he retires (to go off and grow vegetable marrows -- allegedly!); these twelve cases will correspond, in certain ways, to the Labours of Hercules, his namesake. Thus, we get twelve short stories of detection. The quality of the stories varies a little bit, at least in the category of raw detection. Christie was a bit addicted to coincidences and improbabilities (quick change artists in trains, for example). What does more than save this collection, though, is the sheer cast of supporting characters (one of whom shows up in two stories), providing a great deal of amusing colour to the stories. And the title character himself amuses -- one can very much hear David Suchet's voice reading the dialogue! Likely not to fall out of print any time soon.
    • 5/5
      As I was reading this book, I decided I needed more information on the labors of Hercules, which were alluded to, but weren't fully fleshed out. This led to reading a book on the actual labors of Hercules. That, too, was a great read. I might need to read this book again to put all the pieces together.
    • 4/5
      The Labors of Hercules (1947) (Poirot # 27) by Agatha Christie. Poirot has decided to retire, but before doing so, he options to complete a challenge that hingers upon his name being a form of the great hero of the ancients. Poirot is a mental Hercules and decides to complete 12 challenges just like his name sake. Mental challenges, problems to tax the little gray cells, not the body. And, to suit the detective’s taste, there is an even dozen chores to be completed.The cases, though small, are intricate little gems. Is it malicious gossip, political muck-racking, stolen art, missing dogs or something else, as long as it amuses Poirot, he will tackle it.Take this collection as a palette cleanser between the long form novels. But no matter how you read these cases, relish the art behind them, the fun Dame Agatha must have felt in writing them, and the challenge it was to her to come up with 12 modern tales that reference the classic tales so nicely.
    • 3/5
      Poirot commits himself to retirement – once he has solved 12 cases which resemble the famed 12 labours of Hercules.

      Is there a more unusual book in the Christie canon? "The Labours" are some of the last short stories Christie wrote (possibly the last?) and she brings a consummate skill – in both prose and construction – that wasn’t always present in the early days. Without Hastings, or indeed any narrator, we get to see Poirot at his most arrogant. It’s pleasant that Christie would let her character be this much of a prig. This is the middle-era Poirot: a man who believes wholeheartedly in himself, and who has come to understand the human heart as well as the mind, but isn’t yet as besieged by regrets as he will be in the often moving later novels. Besides, it’s nice to know that after decades of service, Poirot is generally held in high esteem.

      Miss Lemon, Japp and George pop in on occasion (Hastings is left squarely in Argentina), but this is Poirot’s book, and overall, that’s probably a good thing. Almost all of the stories are diverting, and a few – "The Nemean Lion", "The Erymanthian Boar" – are very strong. The final story, "The Capture of Cerberus", serves as the last story to really deal with Poirot’s personal life until his swan song in "Curtain", bringing back a notable figure from his past, although leaving us with yet further questions. It’s satisfactory, but Cerberus is possibly the weakest of the 12, since it centres around a thriller, not a mystery, and is reminiscent – for a few reasons – of the disastrous "The Big Four". Thrills were never the author’s strongpoint, nor the detective’s, and while he proves his worth in all the stores, including those few which involve spies and assassins, it’s harder to rein in one’s disbelief. All in all, though, an enjoyable read; each time I checked the clock, I was amazed how much time had passed as I breezed through this book.

      The first 11 stories appeared in magazine form first, providing the framing narrative – as existed in other collections such as "The Thirteen Problems" and "Partners in Crime" – of the 12 ‘labours’. Poirot had been ‘retiring’ since 1926, when "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd" came out, so I’m sure no one took this seriously, but the Poirot we see after World War II is decidedly more domestic. However, that framing device is the most questionable element. While it is absolutely fitting that Poirot would compare himself to Hercules, this sometimes makes him seem even more idiosyncratic than he usually is, given that he’ll sometimes ignore a pressing case until he makes the thematic connection. Occasionally, Poirot seems heavily involved with a case which only reveals its link afterward. I can’t deny there’s a lovely snug nature to the interlocking aspects of these cases, but sometimes the connections between the story and mythology seem… pardon the pun… laboured.

      Poirot ranking: 30th out of 38
    • 3/5
      Not the best of Agatha Christie, still, quite enjoyable. Some pearls by Hercule Poirot, always an entertaining character. (The movie made of it butchered the story so much you will only recognize it because of the title.)
    • 3/5
      M. Hercule Poirot is sitting in conversation w/ Dr. Burton and they are discussing names. Dr. Burton mentions that M. Poirot does not seem to "fit" his name but M. Poirot assures the Dr. that he, Hercule Poirot, is indeed of great mental & detecting strenght. In order to prove that he is indeed capable of living up to his name, M. Poirot takes on twelve feats of detective work that correspond to the twelve labors of Hercules:

      The Nemean Lion: There is a series of dognappings, in the form of Pekingese of rich idle women. The women pay the ransom without telling their husbands for fear the dogs will be harmed/killed.

      The Lernean Hydra: The wife of a chemist has died and someone is spreading rumors that she was poisoned.... M. Poirot goes about the task of not only stopping the rumors but uncovering the actual murderer as well.

      The Arcadian Deer: A young man falls in love, only to have his new love disappear without a trace.... People are not whom they seem and M. Poirot is enlisted to find the missing love.

      The Erymanthian Boar: On a short holiday in Switzerland, M. Poirot boards a funicular to the top of a mountain... He is entreated to stay and help the police capture an infamous gangster

      The Augean Stables: A seemingly upright member of Parliament is about to be exposed for dirty politics & dealings. M. Poirot is hired to clean up the mess by dealing w/ the scandal mongering paper that plans on exposing the dirt.

      The Stymphalian Birds: While on holiday M. Poirot becomes involved with helping Harold Waring to untangle a fatality.... Two ugly sisters whom are thought to bring doom are staying at the hotel and seem to cross Harold's path too often for his comfort.... A young woman & her jealous husband fight and he dies..... or does he?

      The Cretan Bull: A young man is about to marry a young woman he grew up with, but he then begins to wake up in the mornings covered w/ blood, bloody knives, and dead animals being found throughout the village & estate. He is sure that he suffers from a hereditary madness and has broken off his engagement.... M. Poirot is called upon by the fiancee of the young man in order to get to the bottom of the madness.

      The Horse of Diomedes: After an all night party, a young man comes across a young woman (one of 4 daughters of a General living out in the country) in drugged distress and wants to help her before she becomes addicted. M. Poirot goes out to the country in order to find who is supplying the young people w/ cocaine & inducing their addiction....

      The Girdle of Hyppolita: M. Poirot is called upon to find a missing Rubens, stolen in broad daylight from a museum. A schoolgirl on a train vanishes in mid-travel to a well known Girls' art academy and then reappears. A rather ugly painting arrives as a gift to the Headmistress in the girl's luggage... M. Poirot is the one to untangle the mystery.

      The Flock of Geryon: A religious cult has ensnared older women who are all well off.... When they die (far from the cult in their own homes) no one thinks it odd, but their estates are left to the cult. A woman seeking to help her ensnared friend goes undercover w/ the help & guidance of M. Poirot.

      The Apple of Hesperides: A valuable gold chalice once belonging to the Borgia family has seemingly disappeared in a burglary after being sold (but not delivered). The new owner will not file a claim, as once he is paid by the insurance company,the chalice then is no longer his property. M. Poirot is entrusted to locate the missing chalice and return it.

      The Capture of Cerberus: A famous & beautiful jewel thief (Russian Countess Vera Rossakoff) with whom M. Poirot had previously become enchanted crosses his path on the stairs of the subway.... She invites him to visit her in "Hell"..... Hell, being a new nightclub based on legends & lore w/ a huge black dog named Cerberus guarding the door.... Again there are jewels involved, being swapped out for paste and drugs.....
    • 3/5
      I often read Agatha Christie books as fillers between other books. They always come through to amuse. This book was different as it was 12 short stories instead of one narrative. This made it nice as light reading over the weelend. I haven't read an Agatha Christie I didn't like!
    • 5/5
      I loved the creativity Christie used in tying her Hercule Poirot short stories to the 12 Labors of Hercules in mythology. This collection of short stories were a typical collection of Hercule Poirot mysteries. I enjoyed the cast of characters that paraded through the stories, some even made multiple appearances. My favorite stories were "The Stymphalean Birds" and "The Flock of Geryon". Like with any anthology some stories were not as strong, but I loved the creativity Christie showed and that rose-colored my opinion of all the stories.
    • 4/5
      Before retiring to grow superior vegetable marrows, Hercule Poirot decides to take on twelve more cases, based on the labours of Hercules of the Greek myths.This is an interesting little collection of short stories and, while there are – naturally – stories that deal with murder or attempted murder, there a few other crimes here that Hercule Poirot must solve. I won't go into any details here as part of the fun is to discover what a particular story will be about. The quality varies, of course; my favourites were 'The Lernean Hydra' and 'The Horses of Diomedes', where the symbolic association is quite superb, while the story I liked least – by some distance – was 'The Stymphalean Birds': not enough that the solution was terribly obvious from the start, but Hercule Poirot features in it on only four and a half pages.
    • 5/5
      Written and set in times which were a little slower and arguably more civilised, this book traces through a series of 12 short stories some special cases taken on by the delightful M Hercule Poirot. All are very clever and most lead to an unexpected (if somewhat contrived) denouement. Poirot himself is vain, well-tailored and proud, but at the same time extremely charming and likeable.
    • 4/5
      Published in in 1947, The Labours of Hercules comprises an even dozen mysteries starring Christie's most popular sleuth, the ever-dignified Hercule Poirot. At a dinner party, another guest compares the labors of Poirot to those of Hercules, and the little Belgian is not amused.He has already decided to retire, but makes up his mind to take on 12 great cases - each somehow reflecting the labors accomplished by Hercules - as a farewell to crime solving. I am using this book for my 100 years of mystery. I found it very engrossing and enjoyed listening to the 12 short mysteries. I found Poirot to be very clever in solving these mysteries. He will always be one of my favorite detectives. Recommended for those who love mystery.
    • 4/5
      If asked to name the labors of Hercules, I may have recalled a lion, stables, the apples of Hesperides, maybe not the girdle of Hyppolita, but I first learned about them in sixth grade (in 1956), our teacher a new grad of a program for teaching “gifted” students. We had an astronomy club that built a 6” reflecting mirror telescope, science fair projects, and classstalks—I did one on Russia since my brother subscribed to Soviet Life and I went on to study Russian in H.S. and at college, where my freshman room-mate had done the best in SAT Russian, his forbears Russian. (He went on to become a surgeon at San Francisco General and at Da Nang.)Hercule Poirot before retiring plans to emulate the great forbear of his name, though our hero conquers despite being short and strong only of mind.“God never intended people to live out of tins (“cans” in U.S. p.73). My cooking depends upon “tins,” as the Brits call ‘em, a soup a day. Christie writes surprisingly well, with an unsurpassed narrative grip. But also astute phrases, as when she describes Poirot’s great Miss Lemon, the secretary showing “the fusillade of typing efficiency”(198).So many well-developed characters in various places from Ireland to Pisa, from the Russian Countess’s home in the Swiss Alps to…god knows. I must re-read chapters to portray a couple. Diane Maberly comes to Poirot because her fiancee has dumped her, worrying that he may be crazy, so shouldn't marry. Mademoiselle Maberly says her boyfriend is the sanest one she knows, but she admits there’s madness in his family. Isn’t everyone is a little mad, it’s “only when you begin thinking you’re a poached egg that they have to lock you up”(114).As in other novels, the Belgian Poirot uses French and Gallicisms; e.g., he never uses the indefinite article, always the definite, even in colloquial phrases that call for “a,” here to the Countess: “I do not want to see you in what is called the jam”(207). But Christie writes with formidable Briticisms, as on the first page, Oxford’s Dr. Burton has godchildren, his Deidre (“of the Sorrows”) being “merry as a grig” (a small, lively person, maybe originally merry as a Greek) [1].
    • 3/5
      Indeholder "Den nemeiske løve", "Den lernæiske hydra", "Den arkadiske hind", "Det erymantiske vilsvin", "Augiasstalden", "De stymfaliske fugle", "Tyren fra Kreta", "De thrakiske heste", "Hippolytes bælte", "Geryones' okser", "Hesperidernes gyldne æbler", "Kerberos".Hercules Poirot slutter karrieren med 12 sager inspireret af Herkules tolv bedrifter, som jo er "Den nemeiske løve", "Den lernæiske hydra", "Den arkadiske hind", "Det erymantiske vilsvin", "Augiasstalden", "De stymfaliske fugle", "Tyren fra Kreta", "De thrakiske heste", "Hippolytes bælte", "Geryones' okser", "Hesperidernes gyldne æbler", "Kerberos"."Den nemeiske løve" handler om en dame med en dresseret pekingeser."Den lernæiske hydra" handler om rygter om en landsbylæge og hans sekretær og en kone der er død af arsenikforgiftning - rygter er så svære at slå ihjel som en hydra."Den arkadiske hind" handler om at Poirot jagter en smuk ung pige rundt i Europa."Det erymantiske vilsvin" handler om en meget voldelig morder der jages på toppen af et bjerg og fanges til sidst levende."Augiasstalden" handler om en regeringskrise afværges og et sladderblad renses som Augiasstalden."De stymfaliske fugle" handler om at et pengeafpressende par af damer bliver afsløret"Tyren fra Kreta" handler om en mand der tror at han er ved at blive sindssyg men det skyldes at hans far forgifter ham af had til den biologiske far - Poirot lader den skyldige begå selvmord."De thrakiske heste" handler om en fupmager lader sine "døtre" sælge kokain for ham - snedigt men ikke snedigt nok til at narre Poirot."Hippolytes bælte" handler om et maleri stjæles og forsøges smuglet ud af landet i bagagen på en skolepige."Geryones' okser" handler om Pekingesertræneren fra første historie melder sig som frivillig til at afsløre en morderisk sektleder."Hesperidernes gyldne æbler" handler om en rigmand får Poirot til at finde Borgia-pavens krus for et selvvalgt honorar og Poirot finder kruset og et passende honorar."Kerberos" handler om Hunden Kerberos der i dette tilfælde vogter narkotika og grevinde Vera Rossakopf møder Poirot i Helvede - til sidst sender han hende røde roser.Udmærkede, men ikke fremragende noveller
    • 3/5
      The Labours of Hercules is a short story collection featuring twelve stories. The idea is that before Poirot retires, he will emulate the classics - and the last twelve cases he will solve will all be symbolic of the labours Hercules undertook. Individual ratings and reviews are below. My favourites were; The Lernean Hydra, The Erymanthian Boar, The Augean Stables and The Cretan Bull. My least favourites were The Arcadian Deer and The Horses of Diomedes. Overall rating for the collection is 3 stars.THE NEMEAN LION: ***THE LERNEAN HYDRA: ****THE ARCADIAN DEER: **THE ERYMANTHIAN BOAR: ****THE AUGEAN STABLES: ****THE STYMPHALEAN BIRDS: ***THE CRETAN BULL: ****THE HORSES OF DIOMEDES: **THE GIRDLE OF HYPPOLITA: **THE FLOCK OF GERYON: ***THE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES: **THE CAPTURE OF CERBERUS: ***THE NEMEAN LION: ***Pekingese dogs are being kidnapped for ransom. Poirot is hired to stop it. I liked the crime in this one. It was well planned and executed. 3 stars. THE LERNEAN HYDRA: ****A country doctor is stunned to hear that the whole town suspects him of poisoning his wife. Poirot is brought in to slay the rumours. I liked this one. The idea of rumours being like a hydra was unique and I love how Poirot works to squash them. 4 stars. THE ARCADIAN DEER: **Poirot's car breaks down and the mechanic asks him for help in tracking down a woman he met and fell in love with. I didn't like this one much at all. It was too ridiculous. 2 stars.THE ERYMANTHIAN BOAR: ****Poirot is on holiday when an old police force friend reaches out to him for help tracking down a dangerous criminal mastermind. This was clever. I enjoyed the solution and the way it was revealed. And I totally guessed who it was - which always makes me happy. 4 stars.THE AUGEAN STABLES: ****Poirot is asked to perform a miracle - stop public opinion from turning against the current Prime Minister for what the former (and his father in law) did while in office. I really liked this one. It's similar to The Lernean Hydra in that Poirot looks to fight gossip and scandal. I loved the Prime Minister's wife in this. I loved that she was determined to help her husband and do whatever needed to make sure her father didn't destroy his reputation. The conclusion to create a landslide of gossip about a sex scandal regarding the wife to dismiss the political scandal was inspired. 4 stars.THE STYMPHALEAN BIRDS: ***Poirot helps a man being blackmailed. This was enjoyable. I liked Harold. He had a good attitude about everything. And Poirot was his usual funny self. “Who are you, anyway?” As though confessing to royal birth the little man said modestly: “I am Hercule Poirot.Christie, Agatha. Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories (Hercule Poirot Mysteries) (p. 748). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. 3 stars.THE CRETAN BULL: ****A man breaks off his engagement when he fears he's going mad. The woman asks Poirot for help. I didn't guess this one. Well not all of it anyway. I figured he was being poisoned but I thought for sure it was the family friend not the father. A good little twisty story. 4 stars.THE HORSES OF DIOMEDES: **Poirot is asked to help a young girl who has got caught up in a cocaine ring. I didn't like this one. It was too random. 2 stars.THE GIRDLE OF HYPPOLITA: **When an famous piece of art is stolen, the gallery owner asks Poirot to track it down. In the meantime, Inspector Japp asks Poirot to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. Another random story that didn't really make sense. I didn't get why Winnie was used. The explanation was lacking. 2 stars.THE FLOCK OF GERYON: ***Miss Carnaby (from the Nemean Lion) joins forces with Poirot to investigate a religious cult her friend has joined. I enjoyed this one. Miss Carnaby was funny. “Oh, M. Poirot, I’m so worried.” Poirot said kindly: “What is it?” “Do you know, M. Poirot, I’m afraid—I really am afraid—that I must be a hardened criminal—if I may use such a term. Ideas come to me!” “What kind of ideas?” “The most extraordinary ideas! For instance, yesterday, a really most practical scheme for robbing a post office came into my head. I wasn’t thinking about it—it just came! And another very ingenious way for evading custom duties . . . I feel convinced—quite convinced—that it would work.” “It probably would,” said Poirot drily. “That is the danger of your ideas.”Christie, Agatha. Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories (Hercule Poirot Mysteries) (p. 805). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. I sort of guessed where it was going. 3 stars.THE APPLES OF THE HESPERIDES: **Poirot is asked to track down stolen property. This was alright. There wasn't really much mystery to be solved - it kind of came from nowhere. I feel like this collection had a lot of weird stories. I did enjoy the following though. “But my retaining the legal ownership, there were still possibilities left open to me of recovering my property.” “You mean,” said Poirot bluntly, “that you could arrange for it to be stolen from Sir Reuben.” “Not stolen, M. Poirot. I should have been merely recovering my own property.” “But I gather that you were not successful?” “For a very good reason. Rosenthal has never had the goblet in his possession!” “How do you know?” “Recently there has been a merger of oil interests. Rosenthal’s interests and mine now coincide. We are allies and not enemies. I spoke to him frankly on the subject and he at once assured me that the cup had never been in his possession.” “And you believe him?” “Yes.” Poirot said thoughtfully: “Then for nearly ten years you have been, as they say in this country, barking up the mistaken tree?” The financier said bitterly: “Yes, that is exactly what I have been doing!” Christie, Agatha. Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories (Hercule Poirot Mysteries) (p. 824). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. Poor guy. Lol. 2 stars. THE CAPTURE OF CERBERUS: ***Poirot runs across an old friend, Countess Vera Rossakoff (from The Double Clue). I liked this. I loved that she tells him to meet her in hell. And I love Miss Lemon's response. “If a friend asked you to meet her—or him—in Hell, what would you do?” Miss Lemon, as usual, did not pause. She knew, as the saying goes, all the answers. “It would be advisable, I think, to ring up for a table,” she said. Hercule Poirot stared at her in a stupefied fashion. He said, staccato, “You—would—ring—up—for—a table?” Miss Lemon nodded and drew the telephone towards her. “Tonight?” she asked, and taking assent for granted since he did not speak, she dialled briskly. “Temple Bar 14578? Is that Hell? Will you please reserve a table for two. M. Hercule Poirot. Eleven o’clock.”Christie, Agatha. Hercule Poirot: The Complete Short Stories (Hercule Poirot Mysteries) (pp. 836-837). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition. That cracked me up. And I loved the idea of the stairs having the good intentions paving the way to hell. Lol. The actual mystery was decent. I totally guessed how the dog was involved. Although I was thinking more along the lines of there being jewels in the collar or something. Not a package of drugs in the mouth. I would've liked to know more about how Vera gets mixed up in it all. But it's a short story. Interesting read. 3 stars.
    • 3/5
      Agatha Christie wrote 38 books featuring her most famous detective, the funny little Belgian named Hercule Poirot. Most of them are full-length novels, but she also published several collections of short stories, and The Labors of Hercules (1947) is one of them. It revolves around a conceit: Hercule has determined to solve 12 final cases before retiring, each of them related in some way to one of the tasks accomplished by the ancient Greek hero Hercules.(A brief look at the Hercule Poirot series listing shows us that these were far from the last cases that Poirot would solve, but I don’t know if Dame Agatha intended to be done with her greatest creation at this point and was pressured to continue writing about him because of publisher pressure, or if it was a minor fib that made the construction of the collection work.)I appreciated that Christie took care to make the connection to each of the 12 Labors within the individual stories — a huge help to a reader largely unfamiliar with Greek mythology. And while some of the connections are tenuous, I think they are all fairly played. One of the pleasant surprises for me was the whimsical tone with which many of the stories unfold. It’s not all dastardly villains and bloody murders. Ultimately, though, I find that I prefer Christie’s full-length mysteries; I don’t think the short format is well-suited to her usual twisty plotting. Indeed, the ultimate solution to each mystery here was easily detected, even by a reader who is terrible at figuring out whodunit.The full lineup:1. The Nemean Lion — Poirot is called upon to solve a series of dognappings demanding ransom from wealthy women to return their beloved Pekingese unscathed.2. The Lernean Hydra — A doctor whose wife died a year ago is beset by village rumors that he poisoned her. He asks Poirot to clear his name once and for all.3. The Arcadian Deer — A young mechanic enlists Poirot’s help to find the beautiful young woman whom he fell in love with and who subsequently seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.4. The Erymanthian Boar — Poirot finds himself on the trail of a French murderer who is rumored to have holed up in a nearly inaccessible village in the Swiss Alps.5. The Augean Stables — The British Prime Minister needs Poirot to help him manage a tawdry blackmail scheme that threatens to topple his government.6. The Stymphalean Birds — A young undersecretary in the British government is on holiday in “Herzoslovakia” when he gets embroiled in an apparent domestic abuse and murder case.7. The Cretan Bull — A young woman beseeches Poirot to convince her erstwhile fiancé that he is not doomed to insanity by a genetic condition.8. The Horses of Diomedes — A young doctor of his acquaintance wants Poirot to help him save a young girl from scandal related to a party where alcohol and cocaine led to a combustible situation.9. The Girdle of Hyppolita — Poirot must recover an original Rubens painting, which was stolen in broad daylight from a London gallery.10. The Flock of Geryon — A woman wants Poirot’s help to uncover a dangerous cult that lures in wealthy women, who die of apparent natural causes after leaving everything to the cult leader in their wills.11. The Apples of the Hesperides — A goblet ostensibly used by Pope Alexander VI to poison his enemies has been stolen, and the American who bought it just before its disappearance wants Poirot to get it back.12. The Capture of Cerberus — Poirot has a chance encounter with an old acquaintance, Countess Vera Rossakoff, who is mixed up in a drug-smuggling scheme connected to London’s hottest new nightclub, Hell.
    • 3/5
      Hercule Poirot is thinking of retirement. Before he ends his career as a private detective, he challenges himself to solve twelve more cases. But not just any twelve cases. They will be carefully picked to correspond with the mythical labors of Hercules.I'm not a big fan of short stories in the mystery genre. The format imposes too many constraints on plot and character development. This collection is less successful than most in my estimation. The connection with the labors of Hercules is forced. Few of the cases have anything to do with murder, the usual subject of Poirot's investigations. Poirot prevented a murder or two, but many of the other cases involved drug dealing and/or smuggling. Poor Poirot has been trying to retire ever since The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. He won't manage it this time, either, since Christie wrote about a dozen more Poirot novels or short story collections after this one.
    • 5/5
      I love a good Poirot story and this one did not disappoint. And I enjoy the more short story forms because it allows me to step away as needed and come back and not have to worry about forgetting important details. After reading so many Christie novels already I really thought I had finished the best ones, but then this little gem came along. 10 out of 10 would recommend!
    • 3/5
      There were some interesting twists as to what the "mystery" to be solved really was
    • 5/5
      Probably my favorite Poirot, one f the eariest I read. The motif from classical myth and the light humorous feel of some of these make it my favorite.
    • 4/5
      A fun collection of twelve mini-mysteries with one common theme. Poirot considers him a modern Hercules, in the sense that he and his namesake both dedicate their lives to the removal of certain pests. So Poirot decided that these, the last cases before his retirement, should have some metaphorical connection to the original 12 Labours of Hercules. Some stories were better crafted than others but they all had that twist in the tail that Christie is famous for.The Nemean Lion: The case of a missing Pekinese pooch is usually of little interest to a detective as renowned as Poirot, but his interest is piqued when it is the husband rather than the wife that comes to him with the case. The Labours of Hercules starts off well with this quaint but challenging mystery. A well rounded story with believable characters and a clever plot. (4/5)The Learnean Hydra: The gossiping old biddies of Market Loughborough usually have little to gossip about in their respectable village, but when a reputable doctor's wife takes ill and dies, rumour begin flying. The sense of atmosphere in this story was palpable; the village of gossiping old biddies portrayed perfectly. However, some of the characters were a little unnecessary and the well-worn plot line was not quite enough of a surprise as Christie's stories usually are. (3.5/5)The Arcadian Deer: You think a man would realise when he had been stood up, but not mechanic Ted Williamson. He is called one day to the summerhouse of George Sanderfield where he meets a lovely young maid to a famous Russian Ballerina. As is the way in most stories they fall in love immediately and promise to meet again, but the maid never shows. Can Poirot find out what exactly happened to the young girl when everyone he asks seems to be lying to him? I never really liked Christie when she gets all lovey-dovey, it always seems a little over the top to me. Although I wouldn’t have guessed the ending to this one, there were too many characters and it was all a bit ridiculous. (2.5/5)The Erymanthian Boar: Now this is more like it! Deciding to take a trip to a nearly abandoned hotel in the high hills of Switzerland, Poirot is informed that the dangerous multiple murderer Marrascaud is arranging a rendezvous at the hotel. Can Poirot, with the help of the British police, finally catch this animalistic murderer? When it comes to characters and plot, this story was initially spot on, however the ending was a little rushed and the story could have used a page or two more for explanation. Otherwise, it was a nice change from Christie’s usually more docile yarns. (3.5/5)The Augean Stables: Former British PM John Hammott represented the essence of what it was to be British. A few years after the man’s death however, a trashy newspaper gets hold of some less than flattering info about the late PM’s financial embezzlement. This wouldn’t be a problem, the current PM explains to Poirot, if the claims weren’t entirely true. Now Poirot has been called upon to do his utmost to stop the paper printing what they know. It was at this point when I began appreciating Christie’s ability to change her story styles on a hairpin, as this story is quite different to the rest. Most of the story rests upon how Poirot gets the government out of its sticky situation, and, as always, he does it marvellously. One of the best of the collection (4/5).The Stymphalean Birds: Rising MP Harold Waring is having a peaceful time at a small hotel in Herzoslovakia when he spots two frightening looking women who he believes are omens of bad luck. His fears seem to be founded when the following night brings an unexpected guest and a dead body to his very hotel. I have a little bit of a mixed reaction to this one. It didn’t take me too long to discover what was going on but the characters were marginally better than those in most of the other stories. (3/5)The Cretan Bull: Country girl Diane Maberly comes to Poirot in quite a state; her fiancé has just called off their engagement because he believes himself to be going insane. In my opinion, this is the best of the bunch. A great premise with an interesting assortment of characters, each with their own motive for the crime. The atmosphere throughout the whole story was intense and the ending a true surprise. This would have made a fantastically spooky episode of Poirot during the 90’s series. (4.5/5)The Horses of Diomedes: After a wild party earlier in the evening, Poirot is called down to the house of the four Grant sisters. The local doctor expressed his concern that these wholesome girls have been corrupted by cocaine and are falling in with the wrong crowd. I enjoyed the idea behind this story, but, like the Erymanthian Boar, the ending was a little rushed and nothing really seemed to happen until the end. Given a few edits in some places and explanatory additions in others, this story could have been one of the better ones. (3/5)The Girdle of Hippolyta: Only Hercule Poirot can connect the case of the missing Rubens painting and the disappearance of a plain schoolgirl together, and with such style. One of the more inventive stories of the series, with an engrossing storyline and one or two fairly strong characters. I would also suggest that this is the most thought-out of all the Labours in the series as it seemed plausible and made a lot of sense when you thought about it. (3.5/5)The Flock of Geryon: One of the major characters from a previous labour (not telling you which) comes back to Poirot in the tenth story. She’s worried that her friend in getting sucked in to a potentially dangerous religious cult. This story was a bit about the return of one of the characters from a previous story, a bit of a social commentary on religious cults, but little else. It lacked the character vitality and the sharpness of the other stories. Still, not a bad yarn altogether. (3/5)The Apples of Hesperides: Hercule Poirot’s expertise is sought after by a wealthy businessman in order to reclaim a treasure worth a great deal of money. Unfortunately, this story comes at the bottom of the pile in my list of favourites. There was a lot more dialogue by Hercule explaining to Emery Power (the businessman) what was going on than necessary, in fact it took up most of the story. The ending was uninspired and altogether too dull for a traditional Christie mystery. (1.5/5)The Capture of Cerberus: At long last, Hercule Poirot is reunited with the most fascinating woman of his career, the Countess Vera Rossakoff! But disaster! They are moving on opposite escalators in the London underground. But where can Poirot find her? “In Hell” the Countess replies before being whisked back into the depths of the underground. After a perplexing but thrilling beginning the story resolves itself in a rather modern setting for Christie. Setting a story in a nightclub is not exactly usual of Christie but, in this case, it is done so well. (3.5/5)Which gives a final score of 3.3/5. Although I still think you should pick it up as there is some classic Christie amongst these pages, even if there are a few let-downs too. Also, this collection of stories is going to somehow be made into an episode of Poirot for 2012/13. Anyone else wondering how they are going to fit all of these stories into one episode?
    • 5/5
      Written and set in times which were a little slower and arguably more civilised, this book traces through a series of 12 short stories some special cases taken on by the delightful M Hercule Poirot. All are very clever and most lead to an unexpected (if somewhat contrived) denouement. Poirot himself is vain, well-tailored and proud, but at the same time extremely charming and likeable.
    • 3/5
      A fun quick read. I like how the themes of the of the challenges of Hercules was very woven into the mysteries .
    • 2/5
      While I respect Agatha Christie for her contributions to the mystery genre, I have to admit I'm not necessarily a big fan of much of her work.I've liked a good deal of what I've read, but for the most part little of it seems to end up on my list of favorite mystery stories or she on my list of favorite mystery writers.But every once in a while, I'll admit something about a Christie mystery or story captures my attention and I'm inclined to pick it up. In this case, it's the hook for this collection of short stories.In the later stages of his career, Hercule Poirot decides that he will take up a series of cases modeled after the legendary labors of Hercules. Each case must someone tie into one of the feats of the legendary hero.And so, the great detective launches into a series of puzzles that are all (for the most part) of much lower stakes than the usual Poirot mystery. There are few stories here that deal with a murder and most involve a lost object or getting to the bottom of a particular issue or problem. Poirot engages the gray cells a bit.However, while it's fun to see Christie tie in the mythological stories of Hercules to the detective pursuits of Poirot, I have to admit that many of these mysteries were a bit too obvious in their solution. In just about half the stories, I deduced the outcome or solution several pages before Poirot did as well as the motivation for the "crime" presented in the story. On the one hand, it's nice that Christie works to put all the details out there and not appear to come up with a solution out of left field. But it's another if the reader is too easily able to discern the solution before the detective in the story and there's no attempts to put in a red herring or two.Part of this could be the limitation of short story telling. There's less time to develop red herrings in the story. In the end, I found myself enjoying the idea behind "The Labours of Hercules" more than I did the actual execution of the book.
    • 5/5
      This is my favorite so far. I really liked the premise of Poirot's friend pointing out that he should undertake the Labors of Hercules after his namesake before retiring. The following twelve short stories were all interesting, if a bit contrived as far as chance meetings and such, but when undertaking an homage to the gods, who knows what might happen?
    • 3/5
      Twelve little masterpieces of detection. Poirot and Agatha at their inimitable best.
    • 4/5
      It's been a long while since I read an Agatha Christie. It was an easy read, as every chapter was a story in itself. I enjoyed reading a story every night before bed:) I love the character of Hercule Poriot; he rocks. The stories are a bit predictable, but still fun.
    • 5/5
      I love this collection of short stories. The image of Hercule Poirot as a modern day Hercules is wonderful. The collection includes one of my favourite settings, the nightclub "Hell" in the story a "Sop for Cerebus", fabulous.
    • 4/5
      Poirot wants to retire, but before he does, he will take on the labors of Hercules, the only cases he will accept must represent one of the Labors. I enjoyed this more than most Poirot mysteries. It was fun to read the actual labors of Hercules along with it and find the connections. Also I enjoyed the character of Poirot in this story more than others.

    Book preview

    The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie

    ACSignature.tif

    The Labors

    of Hercules

    A Hercule Poirot Collection

    missing image file

    Dedication

    To Edmund Cork

    of whose labours on behalf of

    Hercule Poirot I am deeply appreciative

    this book is affectionately dedicated

    Contents

    Cover

    Dedication

    Foreword

      1  The Nemean Lion

      2  The Lernean Hydra

      3  The Arcadian Deer

      4  The Erymanthian Boar

      5  The Augean Stables

      6  The Stymphalean Birds

      7  The Cretan Bull

      8  The Horses of Diomedes

      9  The Girdle of Hyppolita

    10  The Flock of Geryon

    11  The Apples of the Hesperides

    12  The Capture of Cerberus

    About the Author

    Other Works

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    Foreword

    Hercule Poirot’s flat was essentially modern in its furnishings. It gleamed with chromium. Its easy chairs, though comfortably padded, were square and uncompromising in outline.

    On one of these chairs sat Hercule Poirot, neatly—in the middle of the chair. Opposite him, in another chair, sat Dr. Burton, Fellow of All Souls, sipping appreciatively at a glass of Poirot’s Château Mouton Rothschild. There was no neatness about Dr. Burton. He was plump, untidy, and beneath his thatch of white hair beamed a rubicund and benign countenance. He had a deep wheezy chuckle and the habit of covering himself and everything round him with tobacco ash. In vain did Poirot surround him with ashtrays.

    Dr. Burton was asking a question.

    Tell me, he said. Why Hercule?

    You mean, my Christian name?

    "Hardly a Christian name, the other demurred. Definitely pagan. But why? That’s what I want to know. Father’s fancy? Mother’s whim? Family reasons? If I remember rightly—though my memory isn’t what it was—you had a brother called Achille, did you not?"

    Poirot’s mind raced back over the details of Achille Poirot’s career. Had all that really happened?

    Only for a short space of time, he replied.

    Dr. Burton passed tactfully from the subject of Achille Poirot.

    People should be more careful how they name their children, he ruminated. I’ve got godchildren. I know. Blanche, one of ’em is called—dark as a gypsy! Then there’s Deirdre, Deirdre of the Sorrows—she’s turned out merry as a grig. As for young Patience, she might as well have been named Impatience and be done with it! And Diana—well, Diana— the old classical scholar shuddered. "Weighs twelve stone now—and she’s only fifteen! They say it’s puppy fat—but it doesn’t look that way to me. Diana! They wanted to call her Helen, but I did put my foot down there. Knowing what her father and mother looked like! And her grandmother for that matter! I tried hard for Martha or Dorcas or something sensible—but it was no good—waste of breath. Rum people, parents. . . ."

    He began to wheeze gently—his small fat face crinkled up.

    Poirot looked at him inquiringly.

    Thinking of an imaginary conversation. Your mother and the late Mrs. Holmes, sitting sewing little garments or knitting: ‘Achille, Hercule, Sherlock, Mycroft. . . .’

    Poirot failed to share his friend’s amusement.

    "What I understand you to mean is, that in physical appearance I do not resemble a Hercules?"

    Dr. Burton’s eyes swept over Hercule Poirot, over his small neat person attired in striped trousers, correct black jacket and natty bow tie, swept up from his patent leather shoes to his egg-shaped head and the immense moustache that adorned his upper lip.

    Frankly, Poirot, said Dr. Burton, you don’t! I gather, he added, that you’ve never had much time to study the Classics?

    That is so.

    Pity. Pity. You’ve missed a lot. Everyone should be made to study the Classics if I had my way.

    Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

    "Eh bien, I have got on very well without them."

    "Got on! Got on! It’s not a question of getting on. That’s the wrong view altogether. The Classics aren’t a ladder leading to quick success like a modern correspondence course! It’s not a man’s working hours that are important—it’s his leisure hours. That’s the mistake we all make. Take yourself now, you’re getting on, you’ll be wanting to get out of things, to take things easy—what are you going to do then with your leisure hours?"

    Poirot was ready with his reply.

    I am going to attend—seriously—to the cultivation of vegetable marrows.

    Dr. Burton was taken aback.

    Vegetable marrows? What d’yer mean? Those great swollen green things that taste of water?

    Ah, Poirot spoke enthusiastically. "But that is the whole point of it. They need not taste of water."

    Oh! I know—sprinkle ’em with cheese, or minced onion or white sauce.

    No, no—you are in error. It is my idea that the actual flavour of the marrow itself can be improved. It can be given, he screwed up his eyes, a bouquet—

    Good God, man, it’s not a claret. The word bouquet reminded Dr. Burton of the glass at his elbow. He sipped and savoured. Very good wine, this. Very sound. Yes. His head nodded in approbation. "But this vegetable marrow business—you’re not serious? You don’t mean—he spoke in lively horror—that you’re actually going to stoop—his hands descended in sympathetic horror on his own plump stomach—stoop, and fork dung on the things, and feed ’em with strands of wool dipped in water and all the rest of it?"

    You seem, Poirot said, to be well acquainted with the culture of the marrow?

    Seen gardeners doing it when I’ve been staying in the country. But seriously, Poirot, what a hobby! Compare that to—his voice sank to an appreciative purr—"an easy chair in front of a wood fire in a long, low room lined with books—must be a long room—not a square one. Books all round one. A glass of port—and a book open in your hand. Time rolls back as you read:" he quoted sonorously:

    Fig1.eps

    He translated:

    " ‘By skill again, the pilot on the wine-dark sea straightens

    The swift ship buffeted by the winds.’

    Of course you can never really get the spirit of the original."

    For the moment, in his enthusiasm, he had forgotten Poirot. And Poirot, watching him, felt suddenly a doubt—an uncomfortable twinge. Was there, here, something that he had missed? Some richness of the spirit? Sadness crept over him. Yes, he should have become acquainted with the Classics . . . Long ago . . . Now, alas, it was too late. . . .

    Dr. Burton interrupted his melancholy.

    Do you mean that you really are thinking of retiring?

    Yes.

    The other chuckled.

    You won’t!

    But I assure you—

    You won’t be able to do it, man. You’re too interested in your work.

    No—indeed—I make all the arrangements. A few more cases—specially selected ones—not, you understand, everything that presents itself—just problems that have a personal appeal.

    Dr. Burton grinned.

    That’s the way of it. Just a case or two, just one case more—and so on. The Prima Donna’s farewell performance won’t be in it with yours, Poirot!

    He chuckled and rose slowly to his feet, an amiable white-haired gnome.

    Yours aren’t the Labors of Hercules, he said. Yours are labors of love. You’ll see if I’m not right. Bet you that in twelve months’ time you’ll still be here, and vegetable marrows will still be—he shuddered—merely marrows.

    Taking leave of his host, Dr. Burton left the severe rectangular room.

    He passes out of these pages not to return to them. We are concerned only with what he left behind him, which was an Idea.

    For after his departure Hercule Poirot sat down again slowly like a man in a dream and murmured:

    The Labors of Hercules . . . Mais oui, c’est une idée, ça. . . .

    •    •    •

    The following day saw Hercule Poirot perusing a large calf-bound volume and other slimmer works, with occasional harried glances at various typewritten slips of paper.

    His secretary, Miss Lemon, had been detailed to collect information on the subject of Hercules and to place same before him.

    Without interest (hers not the type to wonder why!) but with perfect efficiency, Miss Lemon had fulfilled her task.

    Hercule Poirot was plunged head first into a bewildering sea of classical lore with particular reference to Hercules, a celebrated hero who, after death, was ranked among the gods, and received divine honours.

    So far, so good—but thereafter it was far from plain sailing. For two hours Poirot read diligently, making notes, frowning, consulting his slips of paper and his other books of reference. Finally he sank back in his chair and shook his head. His mood of the previous evening was dispelled. What people!

    Take this Hercules—this hero! Hero, indeed! What was he but a large muscular creature of low intelligence and criminal tendencies! Poirot was reminded of one Adolfe Durand, a butcher, who had been tried at Lyon in 1895—a creature of oxlike strength who had killed several children. The defence had been epilepsy—from which he undoubtedly suffered—though whether grand mal or petit mal had been an argument of several days’ discussion. This ancient Hercules probably suffered from grand mal. No, Poirot shook his head, if that was the Greeks’ idea of a hero, then measured by modern standards it certainly would not do. The whole classical pattern shocked him. These gods and goddesses—they seemed to have as many different aliases as a modern criminal. Indeed they seemed to be definitely criminal types. Drink, debauchery, incest, rape, loot, homicide and chicanery—enough to keep a juge d’Instruction constantly busy. No decent family life. No order, no method. Even in their crimes, no order or method!

    Hercules indeed! said Hercule Poirot, rising to his feet, disillusioned.

    He looked round him with approval. A square room, with good square modern furniture—even a piece of good modern sculpture representing one cube placed on another cube and above it a geometrical arrangement of copper wire. And in the midst of this shining and orderly room, himself. He looked at himself in the glass. Here, then, was a modern Hercules—very distinct from that unpleasant sketch of a naked figure with bulging muscles, brandishing a club. Instead, a small compact figure attired in correct urban wear with a moustache—such a moustache as Hercules never dreamed of cultivating—a moustache magnificent yet sophisticated.

    Yet there was between this Hercule Poirot and the Hercules of Classical lore one point of resemblance. Both of them, undoubtedly, had been instrumental in ridding the world of certain pests . . . Each of them could be described as a benefactor to the Society he lived in. . . .

    What had Dr. Burton said last night as he left: Yours are not the Labors of Hercules. . . .

    Ah, but there he was wrong, the old fossil. There should be, once again, the Labors of Hercules—a modern Hercules. An ingenious and amusing conceit! In the period before his final retirement he would accept twelve cases, no more, no less. And those twelve cases should be selected with special reference to the twelve Labors of ancient Hercules. Yes, that would not only be amusing, it would be artistic, it would be spiritual.

    Poirot picked up the Classical Dictionary and immersed himself once more in Classical lore. He did not intend to follow his prototype too closely. There should be no women, no shirt of Nessus . . . The Labors and the Labors only.

    The first Labor, then, would be that of the Nemean Lion.

    The Nemean Lion, he repeated, trying it over on his tongue.

    Naturally he did not expect a case to present itself actually involving a flesh and blood lion. It would be too much of a coincidence should he be approached by the Directors of the Zoological Gardens to solve a problem for them involving a real lion.

    No, here symbolism must be involved. The first case must concern some celebrated public figure, it must be sensational and of the first importance! Some master criminal—or alternately someone who was a lion in the public eye. Some well-known writer, or politician, or painter—or even Royalty?

    He liked the idea of Royalty. . . .

    He would not be in a hurry. He would wait—wait for that case of high importance that should be the first of his self-imposed Labors.

    One

    THE NEMEAN LION

    Anything of interest this morning, Miss Lemon? he asked as he entered the room the following morning.

    He trusted Miss Lemon. She was a woman without imagination, but she had an instinct. Anything that she mentioned as worth consideration usually was worth consideration. She was a born secretary.

    Nothing much, M. Poirot. There is just one letter that I thought might interest you. I have put it on the top of the pile.

    And what is that? He took an interested step forward.

    It’s from a man who wants you to investigate the disappearance of his wife’s Pekinese dog.

    Poirot paused with his foot still in the air. He threw a glance of deep reproach at Miss Lemon. She did not notice it. She had begun to type. She typed with the speed and precision of a quick-firing tank.

    Poirot was shaken; shaken and embittered. Miss Lemon, the efficient Miss Lemon, had let him down! A Pekinese dog. A Pekinese dog! And after the dream he had had last night. He had been leaving Buckingham Palace after being personally thanked when his valet had come in with his morning chocolate!

    Words trembled on his lips—witty caustic words. He did not utter them because Miss Lemon, owing to the speed and efficiency of her typing, would not have heard them.

    With a grunt of disgust he picked up the topmost letter from the little pile on the side of his desk.

    Yes, it was exactly as Miss Lemon had said. A city address—a curt businesslike unrefined demand. The subject—the kidnapping of a Pekinese dog. One of those bulging-eyed, overpampered pets of a rich woman. Hercule Poirot’s lip curled as he read it.

    Nothing unusual about this. Nothing out of the way or—But yes, yes, in one small detail, Miss Lemon was right. In one small detail there was something unusual.

    Hercule Poirot sat down. He read the letter slowly and carefully. It was not the kind of case he wanted, it was not the kind of case he had promised himself. It was not in any sense an important case, it was supremely unimportant. It was not—and here was the crux of his objection—it was not a proper Labor of Hercules.

    But unfortunately he was curious. . . .

    Yes, he was curious. . . .

    He raised his voice so as to be heard by Miss Lemon above the noise of her typing.

    Ring up this Sir Joseph Hoggin, he ordered, and make an appointment for me to see him at his office as he suggests.

    As usual, Miss Lemon had been right.

    •    •    •

    I’m a plain man, Mr. Poirot, said Sir Joseph Hoggin.

    Hercule Poirot made a noncommittal gesture with his right hand. It expressed (if you chose to take it so) admiration for the solid worth of Sir Joseph’s career and an appreciation of his modesty in so describing himself. It could also have conveyed a graceful deprecation of the statement. In any case it gave no clue to the thought then uppermost in Hercule Poirot’s mind, which was that Sir Joseph certainly was (using the term in its more colloquial sense) a very plain man indeed. Hercule Poirot’s eyes rested critically on the swelling jowl, the small pig eyes, the bulbous nose and the close-lipped mouth. The whole general effect reminded him of someone or something—but for the moment he could not recollect who or what it was. A memory stirred dimly. A long time ago . . . in Belgium . . . something, surely, to do with soap. . . .

    Sir Joseph was continuing.

    No frills about me. I don’t beat about the bush. Most people, Mr. Poirot, would let this business go. Write it off as a bad debt and forget about it. But that’s not Joseph Hoggin’s way. I’m a rich man—and in a manner of speaking two hundred pounds is neither here nor there to me—

    Poirot interpolated swiftly:

    I congratulate you.

    Eh?

    Sir Joseph paused a minute. His small eyes narrowed themselves still more. He said sharply:

    That’s not to say that I’m in the habit of throwing my money about. What I want I pay for. But I pay the market price—no more.

    Hercule Poirot said:

    You realize that my fees are high?

    Yes, yes. But this, Sir Joseph looked at him cunningly, is a very small matter.

    Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders. He said:

    I do not bargain. I am an expert. For the services of an expert you have to pay.

    Sir Joseph said frankly:

    I know you’re a tip-top man at this sort of thing. I made inquiries and I was told that you were the best man available. I mean to get to the bottom of this business and I don’t grudge the expense. That’s why I got you to come here.

    You were fortunate, said Hercule Poirot.

    Sir Joseph said Eh? again.

    Exceedingly fortunate, said Hercule Poirot firmly. I am, I may say so without undue modesty, at the apex of my career. Very shortly I intend to retire—to live in the country, to travel occasionally to see the world—also, it may be, to cultivate my garden—with particular attention to improving the strain of vegetable marrows. Magnificent vegetables—but they lack flavour. That, however, is not the point. I wished merely to explain that before retiring I had imposed upon myself a certain task. I have decided to accept twelve cases—no more, no less. A self-imposed ‘Labors of Hercules’ if I may so describe it. Your case, Sir Joseph, is the first of the twelve. I was attracted to it, he sighed, by its striking unimportance.

    Importance? said Sir Joseph.

    "Unimportance was what I said. I have been called in for varying causes—to investigate murders, unexplained deaths, robberies, thefts of jewellery. This is the first time that I have been asked to turn my talents to elucidate the kidnapping of a Pekinese dog."

    Sir Joseph grunted. He said:

    You surprise me! I should have said you’d have had no end of women pestering you about their pet dogs.

    "That, certainly. But it is the first time that I am summoned by the husband in the case."

    Sir Joseph’s little eyes narrowed appreciatively.

    He said:

    I begin to see why they recommended you to me. You’re a shrewd fellow, Mr. Poirot.

    Poirot murmured:

    If you will now tell me the facts of the case. The dog disappeared, when?

    Exactly a week ago.

    And your wife is by now quite frantic, I presume?

    Sir Joseph stared. He said:

    You don’t understand. The dog has been returned.

    "Returned? Then, permit me to ask, where do I enter the matter?"

    Sir Joseph went crimson in the face.

    Because I’m damned if I’ll be swindled! Now then, Mr. Poirot, I’m going to tell you the whole thing. The dog was stolen a week ago—nipped in Kensington Gardens where he was out with my wife’s companion. The next day my wife got a demand for two hundred pounds. I ask you—two hundred pounds! For a damned yapping little brute that’s always getting under your feet anyway!

    Poirot murmured:

    You did not approve of paying such a sum, naturally?

    "Of course I didn’t—or wouldn’t have if I’d known anything about it! Milly (my wife) knew that well enough. She didn’t say anything to me. Just sent off the money—in one pound notes as stipulated—to the address given."

    And the dog was returned?

    Yes. That evening the bell rang and there was the little brute sitting on the doorstep. And not a soul to be seen.

    Perfectly. Continue.

    Then, of course, Milly confessed what she’d done and I lost my temper a bit. However, I calmed down after a while—after all, the thing was done and you can’t expect a woman to behave with any sense—and I daresay I should have let the whole thing go if it hadn’t been for meeting old Samuelson at the Club.

    Yes?

    "Damn it all, this thing must be a positive racket! Exactly the same thing had happened to him. Three hundred pounds they’d rooked his wife of! Well, that was a bit too much. I decided the thing had got to be stopped. I sent for you."

    But surely, Sir Joseph, the proper thing (and a very much more inexpensive thing) would have been to send for the police?

    Sir Joseph rubbed his nose.

    He said:

    Are you married, Mr. Poirot?

    Alas, said Poirot, I have not that felicity.

    H’m, said Sir Joseph. "Don’t know about felicity, but if you were, you’d know that women are funny creatures. My wife went into hysterics at the mere mention of the police—she’d got it into her head that something would happen to her precious Shan Tung if I went to them. She wouldn’t hear of the idea—and I may say she doesn’t take very kindly to the idea of your being called in. But I stood firm there and at last she gave way. But, mind you, she doesn’t like it."

    Hercule Poirot murmured:

    The position is, I perceive, a delicate one. It would be as well, perhaps, if I were to interview Madame your wife and gain further particulars from her whilst at the same time reassuring her as to the future safety of her dog?

    Sir Joseph nodded and rose to his feet. He said:

    I’ll take you along in the car right away.

    II

    In a large, hot, ornately furnished drawing room two women were sitting.

    As Sir Joseph and Hercule Poirot entered, a small Pekinese dog rushed forward, barking furiously, and circling dangerously round Poirot’s ankles.

    Shan—Shan, come here. Come here to mother, lovey—Pick him up, Miss Carnaby.

    The second woman hurried forward and Hercule Poirot murmured:

    A veritable lion, indeed.

    Rather breathlessly Shan Tung’s captor agreed.

    "Yes, indeed, he’s such a good watch dog. He’s not frightened of anything or any one. There’s a lovely boy, then."

    Having performed the necessary introduction, Sir Joseph said:

    Well, Mr. Poirot, I’ll leave you to get on with it, and with a short nod he left the room.

    Lady Hoggin was a stout, petulant-looking woman with dyed henna red hair. Her companion, the fluttering Miss Carnaby, was a plump, amiable-looking creature between forty and fifty. She treated Lady Hoggin with great deference and was clearly frightened to death of her.

    Poirot said:

    Now tell me, Lady Hoggin, the full circumstances of this abominable crime.

    Lady Hoggin flushed.

    "I’m very glad to hear you say that, Mr. Poirot. For it was a crime. Pekinese are terribly sensitive—just as sensitive as children. Poor Shan Tung might have died of fright if of nothing else."

    Miss Carnaby chimed in breathlessly:

    "Yes, it was wicked—wicked!"

    Please tell me the facts.

    Well, it was like this. Shan Tung was out for his walk in the Park with Miss Carnaby—

    Oh dear me, yes, it was all my fault, chimed in the companion. How could I have been so stupid—so careless—

    Lady Hoggin said acidly:

    "I don’t want to reproach you, Miss Carnaby, but I do think you might have been more alert."

    Poirot transferred his gaze to the companion.

    What happened?

    Miss Carnaby burst into voluble and slightly flustered speech.

    "Well, it was the most extraordinary thing! We had

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