The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding (Poirot)

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Agatha Christie also wrote romance novels under the pseudonym Mary Westmacott, and was occasion The figure in the snow, however, did not stir. "It is odd," said Hercule Poirot, "she does not seem to hear you." He looked thoughtfully at them. "It is a joke, you say? You are sure this is a joke?" Tea was brought in. A hearty meal of scones, crumpets, sandwiches and three kinds of cake. The younger members of the party appreciated the tea. Colonel Lacey came in last, remarking in a noncommittal voice: "Hey, tea? Oh yes, tea."

I don't see, you know," said Michael thoughtfully, "how M. Poirot could ever have been a detective. I don't see how he'd ever be able to disguise himself."The 1991 TV adaptation follows the original story -- except for having Poirot at the party; changing McLaren to "Colonel Curtiss"; and having Curtiss nearly stab Poirot with a sword cane until Major Rich saves Poirot by fighting a sword duel with Curtiss. We spent a lot of money on making the house comfortable to live in," said Mrs Lacey. "We were able to sell some land. Ripe for development, I think they call it. Fortunately right out of sight of the house on the other side of the park. Really rather an ugly bit of ground with no nice view, but we got a very good price for it. So that we have been able to have as many improvements as possible." No, indeed," Mrs Lacey sighed. She leaned forward. "Do you know, M. Poirot, what I really dream of–what I would love to have?" Mr Jesmond looked at him doubtfully. Pulling himself together, he said, "Well, I can take it that is settled, M. Poirot? You will go to Kings Lacey?"

Not the police," he said. "To recover the–er–what we want to recover will almost inevitably invoke taking proceedings in the law courts and we know so little. We suspect, but we do not know." Poirot's attention is caught by newspaper headlines which tell of the latest developments in the "Spanish Chest Mystery". At his request Miss Lemon prepares a précis of the case. A Major Charles Rich held a small party at his flat. The guests were a Mr and Mrs Clayton, a Mr and Mrs Spence and a Commander McLaren. At the last minute, Edward Clayton received an urgent telegram summoning him to Scotland that night on business and did not attend the party. Shortly before the party, he had a drink with McLaren at their club where he explained his coming absence and then before going to the station, took a taxi to Rich's to offer his apologies. Rich was out but Burgess – Rich's manservant – let him in and left Clayton to scribble a note in the sitting room while he carried on his preparations in the kitchen.

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Oh, I don't know. You can have family affections at the same time as wishing to prey on a rich young girl. Sarah will be very rich, you know, not only with what we leave her–and of course that won't be very much because most of the money goes with the place to Colin, my grandson. But her mother was a very rich woman and Sarah will inherit all her money when she's twenty-one. She's only twenty now. No, I do think it was nice of Desmond to mind about his sister. And he didn't pretend she was anything very wonderful or that. She's a shorthand typist, I gather–does secretarial work in London. And he's been as good as his word and does carry up trays to her. Not all the time, of course, but quite often. So I think he has some nice points. But all the same," said Mrs Lacey with great decision, "I don"t want Sarah to marry him." Oh, don't be an ass, Bridget. Why a ruby of that size would be worth thousands and thousands and thousands of pounds. Wouldn't it, M. Poirot?" Me," said Hercule Poirot, suddenly becoming very foreign, "me, I explore all the avenues, like the politicians."

Not at all," said Mr Jesmond. "Things have changed very much in the last ten years or so. Oil-fired central heating." Bridget chanted immediately, "Colin's got the pig! Colin's got the pig! Colin is the greedy guzzling pig!" He received his cup of tea from his wife's hand, helped himself to two scones, cast a look of aversion at Desmond Lee-Wortley and sat down as far away from him as he could. He was a big man with bushy eyebrows and a red, weather-beaten face. He might have been taken for a farmer rather than the lord of the manor. Desmond Lee-Wortley wheeled round. "What on earth–Are you accusing me? ME? You're crazy! Why on earth should I want to kill the girl?" Yes. He is pensioned off and lives in the little house near the lodge, but he is so devoted, and he insists on coming to wait on us at Christmas. Really, I'm terrified, M. Poirot, because he's so old and so shaky that I feel certain that if he carries anything heavy he will drop it. It's really an agony to watch him. And his heart is not good and I'm afraid of his doing too much. But it would hurt his feelings dreadfully if I did not let him come. He hems and hahs and makes disapproving noises when he sees the state our silver is in and within three days of being here, it is all wonderful again. Yes. He is a dear faithful friend." She smiled at Poirot. "So you see, we are all set for a happy Christmas. A white Christmas, too," she added as she looked out of the window. "See? It is beginning to snow. Ah, the children are coming in. You must meet them, M. Poirot."Poirot looked at her encouragingly. Mrs Lacey was close on seventy, as upright as a ramrod, with snow-white hair, pink cheeks, blue eyes, a ridiculous nose and a determined chin. The Mystery of the Spanish Chest" is an expanded version of the story "The Mystery of the Baghdad Chest" which appeared in issue 493 of the Strand Magazine in January 1932. The original shorter version was reprinted in book form in the UK collection While the Light Lasts and Other Stories in 1997. The first publication of the expanded version was in three instalments in Women's Illustrated from 17 September to 1 October 1960 with illustrations by Zelinksi. In the US, the shorter version was published in the Ladies Home Journal in January 1932 and the expanded version appeared in the US in The Harlequin Tea Set in 1997. We only thought–I mean–we thought we'd better get you before we did anything," said Michael hastily. Because," said Michael breathlessly, "you had given it to Bridget. That's what you mean. And so that's why–but I don't understand quite–I mean–Look here, what did happen?" She watched her go out to the car, then, remembering her foreign guest, she went along to the library. Looking in, however, she saw that Hercule Poirot was taking a pleasant little nap and, smiling to herself, she went across the hall and out into the kitchen to have a conference with Mrs Ross.