Finished On:May 26th, 2014
Mr Satterthwaite sat on the terrace of ‘Crow’s Nest’ and watched his host, Sir Charles Cartwright, climbing up the path from the sea.
Three Act Tragedy is eleventh novel in the Hercule Poirot series. Hercule Poirot is a Belgian national who came to Britain as a refugee. He was very famous detective in his country and he retired after coming to Britain. But, old habits die hard and more often that not he finds himself in the middle of a mystery or is called to solve a mystery behind the murder. In this book also we see detective prowess of Hercule.
Sir Charles Cartwright is an actor who has retired from acting. After retiring from acting he decides to stay in country. He purchases a bungalow at the harbor of Loomouth and starts living there. But he keeps entertaining guests there. During one of such dinners,one of the guest dies. The guest list also contains Hercule Poirot. Most of the people think its accident. But after some day when one of the guest in this party, Dr Bartholomew Strange, dies in his own party and in same way as parson Babbington died, Charles thinks that there is something fishy about the whole affair and its somehow connected to the murder of Mr Babbington. He begins to investigate the matter and calls on Hercule Poirot for help. Were the murders connected? If so, why was the double murder done? And murdered these people?? One will have to read the book for finding answers to all these questions.
I liked the book. It was a fun mystery to read. The good quality of a mystery is that the reader can’t guess till the end that who is the murderer and this novel made me guessing till the end. The book has a romantic touch in it and for a budding romance Poirot takes a backseat in the investigation. Also, i’ve always loved poirot. There was one problem in him that he appears to be a egoist but that is a facade and he clears it pretty well at the book.
‘You’ll excuse me -‘ said Mr Satterwaite.
‘Yes, there is some point you want explained to you?’
‘There is one thing you want to know.’
‘Ask then’
‘Why do you sometimes speak perfectly good English and at other times not?’
Poirot laughed.
‘Ah, I’ll explain. It is true that i can speak the exact, the idiomatic English. But, my friend, to speak the broken English is an enormous asset. It leads people to despise you. They say- a foreigner- he can’t even speak English properly. It is not my policy to terrify people- instead i invite their gentle ridicule. Also I boast!’
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