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| - It was a balmy English morning, and Detective Poirot breathed in the cold, fresh air as he waited to cross the street. As he did so, passers-by paused and looked at him curiously, before continuing along their daily business. Perhaps it was his slightly comical moustache, perhaps his balding head or short, round figure. But this did not disturb Poirot, he was too busy enjoying the wonders of English life. He crossed the street and reached his destination, the post office, still drawing stares. He entered and approached the counter, withdrawing his key from his pocket with a flourish. “Bonjour mademoiselle. Are you holding any mail for me?” The lady behind the counter jumped slightly in surprise. Quickly recomposing herself, she took Poirot’s key and left to find his box. She returned short
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| abstract
| - It was a balmy English morning, and Detective Poirot breathed in the cold, fresh air as he waited to cross the street. As he did so, passers-by paused and looked at him curiously, before continuing along their daily business. Perhaps it was his slightly comical moustache, perhaps his balding head or short, round figure. But this did not disturb Poirot, he was too busy enjoying the wonders of English life. He crossed the street and reached his destination, the post office, still drawing stares. He entered and approached the counter, withdrawing his key from his pocket with a flourish. “Bonjour mademoiselle. Are you holding any mail for me?” The lady behind the counter jumped slightly in surprise. Quickly recomposing herself, she took Poirot’s key and left to find his box. She returned shortly, with a single envelope in her hand. “This is all”, she said, giving it to Poirot. He took it and turned it over in his fingers. His name and Post Office box were typed clearly on the front preceded by the words, ‘Unknown Sender’. He deftly opened the envelope and began to read the letter inside. Its contents were simply as follows: Dear Detective Poirot, You are hereby cordially invited to my secluded mansion in the middle of the countryside. Directions on other side. Signed, “Hmm, very mysterious”, thought Poirot. “Particularly the blank space where he failed to sign anything.” He turned to leave, but as he did so the lady behind the counter called to him “Excuse me, sir. Can I just ask you one thing?” “Of course.” “Well, it’s just... why are you NAKED?”
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)