Labours Of Hercules By Agatha Christie

The first one ran meant well the second wipe the

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Unformatted text preview: simply asks, what did he do? And the answer, Georges, is that he travelled energetically. But he was forced in the end to obtain information-- as some say -- from Prometheus -- others from Nereus." 403 "Indeed, sir?53 said George. cc! never heard of either of those gentlemen. Are they travel agencies, sir ?" Hercule Poirot, enjoying the sound of his own voice, went on: "My client, Emery Power, understands only one thing--action\ But it is useless to dispense energy by unnecessary action. There is a golden rule in life, Georges, never do anything yourself that others can do for you. "Especially,3a added Hercule Poirot, rising and going to the bookshelf, "when expense is no object \" He took from the shelf a file labelled with the letter D and opened it at the words "Detective Agencies -- Reliable". "The modem Prometheus,3a he murmured. "Be so obliging, Georges, as to copy out for me certain names and addresses. Messrs. Hankerton, New York. Messrs. Laden and Bosher, Sydney. Signor Giovanni Mezzi, Rome. M. Nahum, Stamboul. Messrs. Roget et Franconard, Paris." He paused while George finished this. Then he said: "And now be so kind as to look up the trains for Liverpool.w 404 CO 'Yes, sir, you are going to Liverpool, sir ?" "I am afraid so. It is possible, Georges, that I may have to go even further. But not just yet.w IV It was three months later that Hercule Poirot stood on a rocky point and surveyed the Atlantic Ocean. Gulls rose and swooped down again with long melancholy cries. The air was soft and damp. Hercule Poirot had the feeling, not uncommon in those who come to Inishgowlan for the first time, that he had reached the end of the world. He had never in his life imagined anything so remote, so desolate, so abandoned. It had beauty, a melancholy, haunted beauty, the beauty of a remote and incredible past. Here, in the west of Ireland, the Romans had never marched, tramp, tramp, tramp: had never fortified a camp: had never built a wellordered, sensible, useful road. It was a land where common sense and an orderly way of life were unknown. Hercule Poirot looked down at the tips of his patent-leather shoes and sighed. He 405 felt forlorn and very much alone. The standards by which he lived were here not appreciated. His eyes swept slowly up and down the desolate coast line, then once more out to sea. Somewhere out there, so tradition had it, were the Isles of the Blest, the Land of Youth.... He murmured to himself: "The Apple Tree, the Singing and the Gold...." And suddenly, Hercule Poirot was himself again -- the spell was broken, he was once more in harmony with his patentleather shoes and natty, dark grey gent's suiting. Not very far away he had heard the toll of a bell. He understood that bell. It was a sound he had been familiar with from early youth. He set off briskly along the cliff. In about ten minutes he came in sight of the building on the cliff. A high wall surrounded it and a great wooden door studded with nails was set in the wall. Hercule Poi...
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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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