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162 stories from 11 authors
For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed through the town.
I had been called away from town for a few days, and on my return found Poirot in the act of strapping up his small valise.
Eight years before he had seen his friend off at the North Wall and wished him godspeed.
Poirot and I were expecting our old friend Inspector Japp of Scotland Yard to tea.
I was sitting on the pier of the small port of Obernon, near the village of Salis, looking at Antibes, bathed in the setting sun.