
Hercule Poirot lives contentedly in retirement, and only in the most exceptional circumstances can he be lured back into the field of detection where once he reigned supreme - Master of his Art as he (who shouldn't) would say.
When his old friend Richard Abernethie dies, the circumstances appeared to be anything but exceptional - "suddenly at his residence" the papers said. But someone started asking awkward questions and received a hatchet in the head by way of reply. This was too much for Poirot, who could not resist the challenge to his very special talents,
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