I was quite fond of Hercule Poirot. We had worked together on a great many of his greatest cases and I was honored to be called his friend.
Many people could consider Poirot to be a curious character. It was true that he had his curious habits such as making certain that his famous mustache was immaculately combed and groomed. ButPoirot's greatest aspect was his 'little grey cells'. He had an amazing ability of deduction that had served him well throughout his career as a police detective in Belgium. When he came to England with a band of Belgian refugees, he established himself as a successful private detective.
One day I decided to visit him at his home in Whitehaven Mansions. I had experienced a certain amount of vexation in yet another failing attempt to endear myself to a lady, and found myself in need of a distraction from the grey, London drizzle.
When Miss Lemon, Poirot's secretary, let me into the apartment, I found Poirot standing at the window overlooking the rainy street.
"Ah, Hastings," he said without turning. "How are you, mon ami?" I had grown used to Poirot's seemingly supernatural abilities and his behavior didn't strike me as odd.
"As well as ever, old boy," I said, sitting down on one of the many chairs in his office. Now Poirot did turn and smiled at me.
His dark hair had long been thinning and now was barely visible on the top of his head. His mustache was as well groomed as ever and his dark eyes sparkled with amusement.
"I have been thinking, Hastings," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "Your English criminals fear me." I smiled inwardly, knowing what was coming.
"I have solved countless cases for your poor thickheaded Scotland Yard. Just look at what I've accomplished. I have solved the baffling murder of Paul Renauld. I have found the Prime Minister when no one else could."
"Don't forget the case of Barbara Allen," I offered.
"Merci, Hastings." He said, smiling. "And what can we conclude from all this?"
I feigned confusion to give him the pleasure of telling me.
"We can conclude that your British criminals would do better staying in the bed and not invoking the wrath of Hercule Poirot."