Agatha Christie's Poirot

Looks just like a patchwork quilt, doesn't it?

No!

Well, it does to me.

It does to everybody else.

Not to Poirot.

Oh, I suppose you don't think

that looks like a great mass of cotton wool.

No!

I don't think you've got any imagination at all, Poirot.

That is true, mon ami.

But, fortunately, you have enough for both of us.

It is extremely valuable to me.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning.

Ah, c'est magnifique.

Just the place for a restful vacation.

The food will be inedible.

What do you think, Poirot...

down to the beach this afternoon

or shall I have a round of golf?

The tennis court's pretty good, I understand.

Waiter!

Still no news of Captain Seton.

Comment?

The round-the-world flight.

Ah.

They haven't given up hope yet, though, apparently.

He may have made it to one of the Pacific islands.

Cannibals.

I say.

It makes you proud to be an Englishman, though.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Do not be sorry, Hastings.

It is not a tragedy for me

that I was born on the wrong side of the channel.

Ohh! This is intolerable!

I'm going to find a waiter.

Ah, mon Dieu.

Garçon!

Waiter!

Ohh!

Are you all right?

I say!

Do not perturb yourself, Hastings.

The turned ankle... that is all.

I wish you'd let it be seen to.

Ah, in the pleasure of your company, mademoiselle,

the pain... it already passes. Mm.

Ah, pardon... this is Captain Hastings.

Hastings, imagine... the house over there on the point...

it belongs to Mademoiselle Buckley.

Really?

It's called End House.

I love it, but it's going to rack and ruin, I'm afraid.

Oh, that is sad.

It's a big house.

Do you live there all by yourself?

Oh, I'm away a good deal.

When I'm at home, there's usually a rather rowdy crowd

coming and going.

I was beginning to imagine you in a dark, mysterious mansion,

haunted by a family curse.

Well, if it is haunted,

the ghost must be sent to protect me.

I've had three escapes from sudden death

in the last three days.

Escapes from death?

Oh, just accidents, you know.

Oh, curse these bees.

I hate the way they come right past your face.

Ah.

Nick! Nick!

Here, George! Here I am!

Come on, girl. Freddie's frantic for a drink.

Hello.

This is Commander Challenger.

He's in the navy.

I have a great regard for the Royal Navy.

Oh.

Well done, well done.

All right, George, don't get overexcited.

Come on. Let's go and find Freddie and Jim.

I hope the ankle will be all right.

Merci.

Nice girl.

Is Commander Challenger what you might call the good chap, yes?

Oh, absolutely.

Oh, good dive!

Has he the tendresse for her?

What do you think, Hastings?

My dear Poirot, how on earth should I know?

That's Miss Buckley's hat, isn't it?

Yes, we are going to return it to End House.

Thus, we shall have the opportunity to see again

the charming Mademoiselle Nick.

Do you know, I do believe you've fallen for her.

Ah, no, no, no, no, no.

You are under a misapprehension, mon ami.

The young lady... she is very charming, yes,

but I am more interested in her hat.

I don't see why you'd be interested in her hat.

There's a hole in it.

Yes, indeed.

Did you do that?

Hastings, did you notice the way Mademoiselle Nick flinched

as a bee flew past?

A bee in the bonnet, a hole in the hat.

A bee couldn't make a hole like this.

But a bullet could, my friend,

a bullet like this.

Mademoiselle Nick has three escapes from death

in as many days.

Now a fourth.

These are not mere accidents, mon ami.

You'd have to be a madman to try and shoot someone

in a hotel garden in broad daylight.

Ah.

Thank you.

G'day.

Morning.

Good day.

Quite impressive.

It looks as if it could do with a bit of work.

I say.

Yes?

It's not exactly courteous, Lazarus,

to ignore us like this. What?

Jim is far too good a dancer to be a gentleman.

Aren't you, darling?

Oh, so, Freddie.

An awful waste of an expensive education, otherwise.

There are some men to see you, miss.

Oh.

Hello again.

Pardon, mademoiselle.

Commander.

We have come to return your hat.

My hat?

I'd wondered what had happened to it.

This is for you, George.

There is a matter of the greatest urgency

I must discuss with you, mademoiselle.

Oh, don't say you're selling something.

No.

With that mustache and staying at the Majestic, can't be.

Ah.

Now, what's all the mystery?

Mademoiselle...

it was not a bee that flew past your face this morning.

It was this.

What is it?

It is a bullet.

Well, I'm damned.

Uh, Miss Buckley very kindly helped my friend

when he twisted his ankle this morning.

Ah. Yes, so they said.

I am glad she didn't invent the whole thing.

She's the most brazen liar that ever existed, you know.

Oh, it's quite a gift.

She had a marvelous story the other day

about the brakes on her car failing

and her nearly being killed.

All nonsense, Jim says.

Jim knows about cars.

Is that your Chevrolet Phantom outside?

Yes. Pretty, isn't she?

Oh, I say, there's two watches on the table, exactly the same.

Oh, we've all got one of those.

Don't touch, old boy.

Keep good time, do they?

They keep the best time in the world.

Oh, I can't dance to that, Jim.

Of course you can, Freddie.

The first accident was that picture.

I should think the painter might have set that

when he'd finished it, don't you?

Anyway, it came down... crash... in the middle of the night.

Luckily for me, I've been sleeping badly lately,

and I'd got up to make myself a cup of tea.

Otherwise, it might have bashed my head in.

And the other accidents?

The brakes on my car went west

as I was going down the hill into St. Looe.

And the next day, a boulder detached itself from the cliff

at the end of the garden

while I was on the rocks underneath.

It's jolly nice of you and all that,

but why are you so interested?

You do not understand, mademoiselle?

You are in grave danger.

Oh, come off it.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. I tell it to you... I.

You do know who I am?

No, I don't.

Ah.

I forget you are but a child, hein?

Alors my friend here, Captain Hastings...

he will tell it to you.

Well, M. Poirot is a detective.

Oh.