Labours Of Hercules By Agatha Christie

On the opposite wall osiris and isis seemed to be

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Unformatted text preview: rot came to this door and knocked. There was a vast iron knocker. Then he cautiously pulled at a rusty chain 406 and a shrill little bell tinkled briskly inside the door. A small panel in the door was pushed aside and showed a face. It was a suspicious face, framed in starched white. There was a distinct moustache on the upper lip, but the voice was the voice of a woman, it was the voice of what Hercule Poirot called ^femme formidable. It demanded his business. "Is this the Convent of St. Mary and All Angels ?" The formidable woman said with asperity: "And what else would it be ?" Hercule Poirot did not attempt to answer that. He said to the dragon: cc! would like to see the Mother Superior.3' The dragon was unwilling, but in the end she yielded. Bars were drawn back, the door opened and Hercule Poirot was conducted to a small bare room where visitors to the Convent were received. Presently a nun glided in, her rosary swinging at her waist. Hercule Poirot was a Catholic by birth. LOH27407 He understood the atmosphere in which he found himself. "I apologise for troubling you, ma mere," he said, "but you have here, I think, a religieuse who was, in the world, Kate Casey." The Mother Superior bowed her head. She said: "That is so. Sister Mary Ursula in religion." Hercule Poirot said: "There is a certain wrong that needs righting. I believe that Sister Mary Ursula could help me. She has information that might be invaluable." The Mother Superior shook her head. Her face was placid, her voice calm and remote. She said: "Sister Mary Ursula cannot help you." "But I assure you -- " He broke off. The Mother Superior said: "Sister Mary Ursula died two months ago." V In the saloon bar of Jimmy Donovan's Hotel, Hercule Poirot sat uncomfortably against the wall. The hotel did not come 408 up to his ideas of what a hotel should be. His bed was broken -- so were two of the window panes in his room -- thereby admitting that night air which Hercule Poirot distrusted so much. The hot water brought him had been tepid and the meal he had eaten was producing curious and painful sensations in his inside. There were five men in the bar and they were all talking politics. For the most part Hercule Poirot could not understand what they said. In any case, he did not much care. Presently he found one of the men sitting beside him. This was a man of slightly different class to the others. He had the stamp of the seedy townsman upon him. He said with immense dignity: "I tell you, sir. I tell you -- Pegeen's Pride hasn't got a chance, not a chance . . . bound to finish right down the course --right down the course. You take my tip ... everybody ought to take my tip. Know who I am, shir, do you know, I shay ? Atlas, thatsh who I am -- Atlas of the Dublin Sun . . . been tipping winnersh all the season. . . . Didn't I give Larry's Girl ? Twenty-five to one -- twenty-five 409 to one. Follow Atl...
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This note was uploaded on 07/28/2011 for the course LITERATURE 101 taught by Professor Agathachristie during the Spring '11 term at Heritage.

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