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Experienced Belgian detective, Hercules Poirot is called in to a client but when he arrives is given notice of the man’s death earlier that day. The victim lay face down in a grave located within a golf course. He was wearing his son’s overcoat and a love letter within. Cause of death - stabbing with a letter opener. Soon Poirot’s case is flipped over by the discovery of another identical corpse.
Kindle Edition
First published June 6, 1923


An extraordinary little man. Height five feet four inches, egg shaped head carried a little to one side, eyes that shone green when he was excited, stiff military moustache. Air of dignity immense! He was neat and dandified in appearance. For neatness of any kind he had a passion.
He had a certain disdain for tangible evidence such as footprints and cigarette ash, and would maintain, by themselves, they would never enable a detective to solve a crime. Then he would tap his egg-shaped head with absurd complacency, and remark with great satisfaction: 'The true work, it is done from within. The little grey cells--remember always the little grey cells, mon ami.
