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The Dead Man’s Mirror: A Hercule Poirot Short Story
Агата Кристи

The Dead Man’s Mirror: A Hercule Poirot Short Story
Agatha Christie

A classic Agatha Christie short story, available individually for the first time as an ebook.A smashed mirror convinces Hercule Poirot that the apparent suicide of a client is far too convenient an explanation for what is obviously a gruesome case of murder…

The Dead Man’s Mirror

A Hercule Poirot Short Story

by Agatha Christie

Copyright (#ulink_b31f6fd2-d9d7-5db0-8885-6d8c12286d9f)

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

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Copyright © 2008 Agatha Christie Ltd.

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Ebook Edition © JUNE 2014 ISBN 9780007560165

Version: 2017-04-13

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Contents

Cover (#u7aada64a-7672-5b05-a559-edc2d84a59b7)

Title Page (#u624be21e-278a-5468-90ee-2bb2c8f1ddb6)

Copyright

The Dead Man’s Mirror (#ud58fc21d-d4be-5989-828b-e8e8176f121d)

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About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Dead Man’s Mirror (#ulink_34f6d038-3764-50de-97ab-a55c37312f88)

‘Dead Man’s Mirror’ is an expanded version of the story ‘The Second Gong’ which was first published in the USA in Ladies’ Home Journal, June 1932, then in The Strand, July 1932.

The flat was a modern one. The furnishings of the room were modern, too. The armchairs were squarely built, the upright chairs were angular. A modern writing-table was set squarely in front of the window, and at it sat a small, elderly man. His head was practically the only thing in the room that was not square. It was egg-shaped.

M. Hercule Poirot was reading a letter:

Station: Whimperley.

Telegrams: Hamborough St John.

Hamborough Close,

Hamborough St Mary,

Westshire.

September 24th, 1936.

M. Hercule Poirot.

Dear Sir, – A matter has arisen which requires handling with great delicacy and discretion. I have heard good accounts of you, and have decided to entrust the matter to you. I have reason to believe that I am the victim of fraud, but for family reasons I do not wish to call in the police. I am taking certain measures of my own to deal with the business, but you must be prepared to come down here immediately on receipt of a telegram. I should be obliged if you will not answer this letter.

Yours faithfully,

GERVASE CHEVENIX-GORE.

The eyebrows of M. Hercule Poirot climbed slowly up his forehead until they nearly disappeared into his hair.

‘And who, then,’ he demanded of space, ‘is this Gervase Chevenix-Gore?’

He crossed to a bookcase and took out a large, fat book.

He found what he wanted easily enough.

Chevenix-Gore, Sir Gervase Francis Xavier, 10th Bt. cr. 1694; formerly Captain 17th Lancers; b. 18th May, 1878; e.s. of Sir Guy Chevenix-Gore, 9th Bt., and Lady Claudia Bretherton, 2nd. d. of 8th Earl of Wallingford. S. father, 1911; m. 1912, Vanda Elizabeth, e.d. of Colonel Frederick Arbuthnot, q.v.; educ. Eton. Served European War, 1914–18. Recreations: travelling, big-game hunting. Address: Hamborough St Mary, Westshire, and 218 Lowndes Square, S.W.1. Clubs: Cavalry. Travellers.

Poirot shook his head in a slightly dissatisfied manner. For a moment or two he remained lost in thought, then he went to the desk, pulled open a drawer and took out a little pile of invitation cards.

His face brightened.

‘A la bonne heure! Exactly my affair! He will certainly be there.’

A duchess greeted M. Hercule Poirot in fulsome tones.

‘So you could manage to come after all, M. Poirot! Why, that’s splendid.’

‘The pleasure is mine, madame,’ murmured Poirot, bowing.

He escaped from several important and splendid beings – a famous diplomat, an equally famous actress and a well-known sporting peer – and found at last the person he had come to seek, that invariably ‘also present’ guest, Mr Satterthwaite.

Mr Satterthwaite twittered amiably.

‘The dear duchess – I always enjoy her parties … Such a personality, if you know what I mean. I saw a lot of her in Corsica some years ago …’

Mr Satterthwaite’s conversation was apt to be unduly burdened by mentions of his titled acquaintances. It is possible that he may sometimes have found pleasure in the company of Messrs. Jones, Brown or Robinson, but, if so, he did not mention the fact. And yet, to describe Mr Satterthwaite as a mere snob and leave it at that would have been to do him an injustice. He was a keen observer of human nature, and if it is true that the looker-on knows most of the game, Mr Satterthwaite knew a good deal.
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