标题: 《The A B C Murders 》作者： - Christie_ Agatha【EPUB】 [打印本页] 作者: zaq 时间: 2013-10-8 11:36 标题: 《The A B C Murders 》作者： - Christie_ Agatha【EPUB】 The A B C Murders The A B C Murders The A B C Murders The A B C Murders Foreword by Captain Arthur Hastings, O.B.E. In this narrative of mine I have departed from my usual practice of relating only those incidents and scenes at which I myself was present. Certain chapters, therefore, are written in the third person. I wish to assure my readers that I can vouch for the occurrences related in these chapters. If I have taken a certain poetic license in describing the thoughts and feelings of various persons, it is because I believe I have set them down with a reasonable amount of accuracy. I may add that they have been “vetted” by my friend Hercule Poirot himself. In conclusion, I will say that if I have described at too great length some of the secondary personal relationships which arose as a consequence of this strange series of crimes, it is because the human and personal element can never be ignored. Hercule Poirot once taught me in a very dramatic manner that romance can be a by-product of crime. As to the solving of the A.B.C. mystery, I can only say that in my opinion Poirot showed real genius in the way he tackled a problem entirely unlike any which had previously come his way. The A B C Murders Chapter 1 THE LETTER It was in June of 1935 that I came home from my ranch in South America for a stay of about six months. It had been a difficult time for us out there. Like every one else, we had suffered from world depression. I had various affairs to see to in England that I felt could only be successful if a personal touch was introduced. My wife remained to manage the ranch. I need hardly say that one of my first actions on reaching England was to look up my old friend, Hercule Poirot. I found him installed in one of the newest type of service flats in London. I accused him (and he admitted the fact) of having chosen this particular building entirely on account of its strictly geometrical appearance and proportions. “But yes, my friend, it is of a most pleasing symmetry, do you not find it so?” I said that I thought there could be too much squareness and, alluding to an old joke, I asked if in this super-modern hostelry they managed to induce hens to lay square eggs? Poirot laughed heartily. “Ah, you remember that? Alas! no - science has not yet induced the hens to conform to modern tastes, they still lay eggs of different sizes and colours!” I examined my old friend with an affectionate eye. He was looking wonderfully well - hardly a day older than when I had last seen him. “You're looking in fine fettle, Poirot,” I said. “You've hardly aged at