Agatha Christie's Poirot

Poirot (also known as Agatha Christie's Poirot) is a British mystery drama television series that aired on ITV from 8 January 1989 to 13 November 2013. David Suchet stars as the eponymous detective, Agatha Christie's fictional Hercule Poirot. Initially produced by LWT, the series was later produced by ITV Studios. The series also aired on VisionTV in Canada and on PBS and A&E in the United States. The programme ran for 13 series and 70 episodes in total; each episode was adapted from a novel or short story by Christie that featured Poirot, and consequently in each episode Poirot is both the main detective in charge of the investigation of a crime (usually murder) and the protagonist who is at the centre of most of the episode's action. At the programme's conclusion, which finished with Curtain: Poirot's Last Case, based on the final Poirot novel, every major literary work by Christie that featured the title character had been adapted.

Year:
1989
5,698 Views

Hercule Poirot:
[to Major Despard, who is on horseback] there was a Mrs. Luxmore.

Major Despard:
How did you know?

Hercule Poirot:
My friend, Madame Oliver. She discovered that your editor made one tiny error. In Chapter four, you mentioned that you went on safari, accompanied by the Luxmores. Plural. Later on, there was only one.

[pause]

Hercule Poirot:
Did you shoot him?

Major Despard:
[after a short pause] Yes.

Hercule Poirot:
Were you in love with his wife?

[Scene shows Major Despard, now standing right by Poirot; confessing his past]

Major Despard:
Luxmore claimed that he was looking for herbs and mosses for medical purposes.

[scene shifts to a flashback showing Mr. Luxmore sprinkling strange ingredients into something]

Major Despard:
[voiceover] But really what he was looking for was ingredients for narcotic drugs...

Mr Luxmore:
[he pours a strange steaming liquid into a glass from a beaker]

Major Despard:
[voiceover cont] Old fool began experimenting on himself.

Hercule Poirot:
And what happened?

Major Despard:
He went berzerk.

[Scene shows a now dangerously intoxicated Luxmore reeling around like a drunken man]

Mr Luxmore:
[grunting as he sways forward toward his wife and grabs her]

Mrs Luxmore:
[she screams as he grabs her and throws her around. She gets cornered in a corner of the tent as Luxmore clumsily tries to attack her with a machete]

Major Despard:
[bursting into the tent, brandishing a rifle] Luxmore!

[Luxmore grunts, looks at Despard, and then turns back towards Mrs. Luxmore's direction and raises his machete. Despard aims and shoots Luxmore in the back killing him; saving Mrs. Luxmore. Mrs. Luxmore and Despard look at each other in horror and shock]

Major Despard:
[back in the present] There were no Europeans for at least hundreds of miles. Lily and I decided to cover the incident up with Luxmore dying of a fever to avoid a scandal. If the truth ever be found out, she would be ruined. And so will I. So... I shut the lid on my emotions, buried him there and came back...

Hercule Poirot:
[four months after his death, voice-over] I have instructed my lawyers to deliver this manuscript to you four months after my death, by which time you will no doubt have evolved the most preposterous theories. But really, mon ami, you should by now have been able to work out who killed Norton. As to who killed Barbara Franklin, that may come as more of a shock. When you asked if I knew who was the killer, I did not quite tell to you the truth. I knew, but had to make sure. You see, I had never met this person before, and had never seen this person in action before. It did not take long. At last, at the end of my career, I had come across the perfect criminal. Well... nearly perfect. No one gets the better of Hercule Poirot... not even Stephen Norton.

Captain Hastings:
Well, I'll be...

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over] Oh yes, Norton was our man. He had been a sickly boy with a domineering mother. He had had a hard time at school, and disliked blood and violence - a trait most un-English. But he had a sympathetic character, and soon discovered how easy it was to make use of it. By understanding people, he could penetrate their innermost thoughts, and then make them do things they did not want to, compensation for a lifetime of derision. This sense of power gradually developed into a morbid taste for violence at second-hand, which soon turned into an obsession. Our gentle Norton was in fact a sadist, addicted to pain and mental torture. Remember the remarks he made, that first evening you played bridge?

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Norton and Hastings at the bridge game] Norton meant him to hear. Sometimes successful, sometimes not, it was a drug he constantly craved.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Colonel Luttrell shooting his wife] No motive, no evidence, no proof - simply evil for the sake of it, a criminal who could never be convicted for his crimes. You will have realized by now that Franklin was in love with Judith, and she with him. But with Madame Franklin alive, life was very difficult for Judith, and Norton knew exactly how the wind lay. He played most cleverly on the theme of useless lives...

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to the dinner party]... and gently ridiculed the idea that she would ever have the nerve to take decisive action. But for a murder addict, one iron in the fire, it is not enough. He sees opportunities for pleasure everywhere, and found one in you, mon ami. He discovered every weak spot to exacerbate your profound dislike of Major Allerton. Then you saw Allerton and Judith kiss.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to the glass house that night] Norton hauled you away so that you did not see what followed. You went to the glass house, and thought you heard Allerton talking to Judith. Yet you did not see her or even hear her speak - Norton made sure of that, for if you had, you'd have discovered that there was never any been any question of Judith going to London that day. It was Nurse Craven with whom he was having the affair, but you fell headlong into the trap of Norton, and made up your mind to murder.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Hastings heading into Allerton's bathroom] I heard you come up that evening, and was already exercised about your state of mind. So when I heard you in the corridor, and go into the bathroom of Allerton, I slipped out of my room.

Captain Hastings:
Slipped out of your room? But...

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over] "How?" I hear you say. You see, Hastings, I was not helpless at all.

Captain Hastings:
What...?

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over] Why do you think I sent George away? Because I could not have fooled him into believing that I had suddenly lost the use of my limbs. I heard you in the bathroom of Allerton and promptly, in the manner you so much deplore, dropped to my knees. I realized what you were up to, made my preparations, and sent Curtiss to fetch you. So I gave to you the hot chocolate.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Poirot giving Hastings hot chocolate] But I also, mon ami, have sleeping pills. When you awoke the next morning, you were your own self again, horrified at what you had nearly done. But it decided me, Hastings. You are not a murderer, but might have been hanged for one. I knew that I must act and could put it off no longer, but before I was able to, Barbara Franklin died... and I do not think that you have once suspected the truth. For you see, Hastings... you killed her.

Captain Hastings:
*I* killed her?

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over] Oui, mon ami, you did. There was, you see, yet another angle to the triangle, one that I had not fully taken into account. Did it ever enter your mind why Madame Franklin was willing to come to Styles? She enjoys the good life, yet insisted on staying in a guest house, and I have no doubt that Norton knew why: Boyd Carrington. Madame Franklin was a disappointed woman; she had expected Dr. Franklin to have a brilliant career, not shut himself away in esoteric research. And here is Boyd Carrington, rich and aristocratic, who had nearly asked to marry her when she was a girl, still paying court. So the only way was for her husband to die, and Norton had found her only too ready a tool.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Mrs. Franklin speaking with Norton, then Poirot] It was so obvious - her protestations of admiration, then her fears for her husband. But when she saw Nurse Craven reading the palm of Boyd Carrington, she had a fright. She knew he would be suseptible to the charms of an attractive woman, and perhaps Nurse Craven might end up as Lady Boyd Carrington instead of her. So she decided to act quickly.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Mrs. Franklin's room] She invites us all up to her room for coffee. Her cup is beside her, and that of her husband is on the other side. Then everyone goes to watch the shooting starts except you, mon ami, left with your crossword and your memories. You hide your emotion by swinging around the bookcase as if looking for a book, and so when we all return, Madame Franklin drinks the poisoned coffee meant for her husband, and he drinks the coffee meant for her. I realized what must have happened - that she had poisoned the coffee, and that you had unwittingly turned the table, but you see, Hastings, I could not prove it.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to the inquest into Mrs. Franklin's death] If the death of Madame Franklin was thought to be anything but suicide, suspicion would inevitably fall on either Franklin or Judith. That is why I was so insistent that Madame Franklin *had* killed herself, and I knew that my statement would be accepted, because I am Hercule Poirot. You were not pleased, but mercifully, you did not suspect the true danger. Will it come into your mind when I am gone, like some dark serpent that now and then raises its head and says, "Suppose, just suppose, it was my Judith"? And therefore, you must know the truth.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Styles after the verdict] There was one person most unhappy with the verdict... Norton. He was deprived, you see, of his pound of flesh. Madame Franklin had died, yes... but not how he desired. The murder he had arranged had gone awry, so what to do? He began to throw out hints of what he saw that day with you and Mademoiselle Cole. He had never said anything defilite, so if he could convey the impression that it was Franklin and Judith he saw, not Allerton and Judith, then that could open up an interesting new angle on the suicide case, perhaps even throw doubts on the verdict. And I realized what I had planned all along had to be done at once, the moment I had dreaded - the most difficult decision of my life.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Norton heading into Poirot's room] That is why I invited Norton to my room that night... and told to him all that I knew.

Hercule Poirot:
[laying out newspaper clips] Madame Constance Etherington, tried for the poisoning of her husband, a man who was very sadistic but also addicted to the drugs, and with whom you were on terms most intimate. Norah Sharples, poisoned by her niece, Freda Clay...

Stephen Norton:
I hope you're not s-suggesting I was on intimate terms with *her*.

Hercule Poirot:
[lays out a photograph] You and Mademoiselle Clay taking a walk together. You see, I do my homework, Monsieur Norton. And... Matthew Litchfield. Now you visited him, did you not, on the night he was killed by his daughter Margaret.

Stephen Norton:
What is your p-point, Monsieur Poirot?

Hercule Poirot:
My point is this, Monsieur Norton: That in none of these murders was there any real doubt - there was one clear suspect and no other - but you, Monsieur Norton, are the one factor malevolent common to all.

Stephen Norton:
[scoffs] Oh d-dear, Monsieur Poirot, is that the b-best your "l-little gray cells" can come up with?

Hercule Poirot:
Your proximity to these three murders was too much of a coincidence, and I smelt, as you say, the rat! That is why I came to Styles, to observe you function, and you have not disappointed, monsieur. No, you are a man who is very clever, but not clever enough for Hercule Poirot.

Stephen Norton:
So... what are you going to d-do about it?

Hercule Poirot:
Execute you.

Stephen Norton:
[incredulous] Execute me?

Hercule Poirot:
Oui.

Stephen Norton:
[mockingly looks at his watch] Then d-do get on with it. I p-promised myself an early night.

Hercule Poirot:
Justice is no joking matter, monsieur. I do what I can to serve it, but if I fail, there is a justice that is higher, believe me!

Stephen Norton:
[sneering] You p-pathetic, self-important little man. Murder me? There's a mortal sin if ever there was. And then what? Suicide to escape the ignominy of hanging? Ah... your G-God will give you a hell of a time. All those years of piety, up in smoke because of me. [Poirot has an angina attack, begins gasping] Ah ah ah, monsieur, you c-can't go yet. You don't think I'd let you d-die on me, d-d-deprive me of my ultimate t-triumph?

Hercule Poirot:
[gasping for breath] Please... please...

Stephen Norton:
You see, if you d-don't succeed, I'm a free man. And even if you do, it will still be a v-victory of sorts, because in the eyes of the law, I would be innocent, whereas you and your reputation, your p-precious reputation... b-blown to bits.

Hercule Poirot:
[gasping] Je vous en prie!

Stephen Norton:
[mockingly] "Je vous en prie"... you can see them now. "Went off his rocker. In the end, you can never trust a foreigner." [pops the amyl phial, and Poirot inhales it] You see how good I am to you, old man? There we go. Take your t-time, and see how it all p-pans out, shall we? [sing-song voice] Who will be there at the final curtain?

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over] It was quite immaterial. I take the sleeping tablets and have acquired a certain tolerance. The dose that would send Norton to sleep would have little effect on me. With the greatest of difficulty, I put him in my wheelchair, then, when the coast was clear, I wheeled him to his room. You will not have realized, Hastings, that recently I have taken to wearing a false moustache. Even George does not know that.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback, showing Poirot in Norton's room, removing his false moustache] I put on the dressing gown of Norton, tapped on your door, then went into his bathroom. Presently, I heard you open your door. I left the bathroom and returned into the room of Norton, locking the door behind me.

Hercule Poirot:
[struggling to lay Norton on his bed] I put the dressing gown on Norton, and lay him on his bed. I had a pistol, which on two occasions I had placed ostentatiously on the dressing table of Norton when he was out, so that the maid would have seen it.

Hercule Poirot:
[puts the pistol to Norton's head as he awakens, smiling... then fires] I put the key into the pocket of his dressing gown and locked the door from the outside with a duplicate I had made, then returned to my room and began writing this. I played the game, as you English say. I gave to you the clues and every chance to discover the truth, pointing you towards Iago, the original Stephen Norton. My only weakness was to shoot him in the center of his forehead and not in his temple, but I could not bring myself to produce an effect so lopsided. That, mon ami, is my nature, and should have told to you the truth.

Hercule Poirot:
[voice-over as Hastings speaks with Miss Cole] Take my advice for the last time. Tell to Mademoiselle Cole all that I have said, that you also might have done what her sister did, had there been no watchful Poirot to stop you. Take the nightmare away, and show how Norton, not her sister, was responsible for the death of her father.

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback to Styles, as Hastings discovers Poirot dead in his room] I have no more to say. Am I justified in what I have done? I do not know. I do not believe that a man should take the law into his own hands... but by taking the life of Norton, have I not saved others? I have always been so sure, but now...

Hercule Poirot:
[flashback, Poirot writing the confession, kissing his rosary] When the moment comes, I will not try to save myself, but humbly offer my soul to God and pray for His mercy. It is for Him to decide. Ah, Hastings, my dear friend. They were good days. Yes... they have been good days.

Hercule Poirot:
Monsieurs, Madames. What I am about to do might surprise you a little. You'll probably think of me as eccentric-perhaps mad. You might say, "the little Belgian is taking leave from his rocker", huh? But I must assure you, that behind my madness is, what you English say... method.

[Poirot lifts the cover of the hidden object on the table; revealing a small, simple, leather suitcase]

Hercule Poirot:
[sotto voce] Voila! A suitcase!

[slightly sarcastic]

Hercule Poirot:
How interesting!

[normal]

Hercule Poirot:
Of course, nothing's interesting about suitcases. [chuckles] But you may know that suitcases... have contents.

[Poirot opens the suitcase very slowly but full of anticipation; the audience of the passengers watch in expectation. Poirot opens the lid, gasps slightly and slowly lifts up the object in the suitcase... which is revealed to be a cute, porcelain doll]

Mrs Tolliver:
[smiling; recognizing] Why... It's a doll!

Hercule Poirot:
Ah! Yes, a doll. Now, this doll... is an important witness to the truth of the death of Madame Clapperton. [pause] But how does it know? It is a doll. But THIS is a doll...

[sotto voce]

Hercule Poirot:
...That can speak!

[Poirot makes the doll turn towards him, so that their faces are parallel from one another and their noses are two inches apart; the passengers look at him as if he had lost his mind, slightly disturbed]

Hercule Poirot:
[he senses the passengers disbelief and quickly turns to them; rapid fire speech] You never seen dolls that could speak?

[normal voice]

Hercule Poirot:
Of course, you have!

Hercule Poirot:
[as he slowly and gently puts the doll back in the suitcase] All we need to do is to put the doll back into the suitcase, where she cannot be seen... She doesn't want to be seen; this little lady.

[to the concealed doll in the suitcase]

Hercule Poirot:
Can you hear me, mon poup?e?

Ismene:
[as the doll's voice] Aye!

Hercule Poirot:
[speaking loudly yet slowly] Now, Can you tell us... about the death... of Madame Clapperton?

Ismene:
[imitating Madame Clapperton] What is it, John? The Door's locked... I don't want to be disturbed by the stewards.

Colonel John Clapperton:
[he begins to twitch his eyes and hyperventilate; he glares at Poirot, who glares at him back sternly; revealing the Col. Clapperton is the murderer] You! [He bolts forward]

Captain Hastings:
[as he and Bates stop the enraged Col. Clapperton from reaching Poirot] Stop him!

Colonel John Clapperton:
[after being restrained; he glares at the stern Poirot; finally caught; snarling with hatred] YES.

[Hercule Poirot has read an outrageous letter from the Todds, and is extremely furious]

Hercule Poirot:
[shouts] *WHAT?*

[pause]

Hercule Poirot:
WHAT? HOW DOES SHE DARE?

[He slams the letter on his desk, much to the concern of Miss. Lemon and Hastings]

Captain Hastings:
What is it?

Hercule Poirot:
[seething] As a favor... As a great favor, I agreed to investigate this two-penny, HALF-PENNY AFFAIR!

Captain Hastings:
What is it, old chap?

Hercule Poirot:
[pointing furiously at the letter on his desk] READ IT! Read it!

[Hastings picks up the letter, Miss. Lemon looking over his shoulder. Point, meanwhile stands a distance from them, still fuming over the contents of the letter]

Captain Hastings:
[reading the letter] "Mr. Todd regrets that, after all, his wife will not avail herself of Mr. Poirot's services...

Hercule Poirot:
[high-pitched and curt] Ahm!

Captain Hastings:
"... After talking the matter over with me, she sees that it is foolish to call in a detective about a purely domestic affair..."

Hercule Poirot:
[high-pitched, angry agreement grunt] Yep!

Captain Hastings:
"... Mr. Todd encloses one guinea for consultation."

Hercule Poirot:
Is this to be believed? huh? Do they think they can get rid of Hercule Poirot like that? HUH?

[shouts]

Hercule Poirot:
*NO.*

[rapid fire speech]

Hercule Poirot:
No, no, no, no, no... No, no,no, no, no... Thirty six times...

[shouts]

Hercule Poirot:
NO! They send me *ONE* guinea, huh? *NO!* I will spend *My OWN* guineas! 3,600 of them, if need be! But *I* will get to the bottom of his matter!

[Poirot has gotten off the Blue Train in Nice, when suddenly... ]

Lady Tamplin:
[lets out a high-pitched screams of terror]

Hercule Poirot:
[seeing her stumble out of the train, looking as though she has seen a ghost] Lady Tamplin! Are you all right?

Lady Tamplin:
[sounding nauseated] No, no, no, Please! I feel like I'm going to be sick...

[she clutches her stomach and her heart]

Hercule Poirot:
What is the matter?

Lady Tamplin:
Oh My God... It's Katharine...

Hercule Poirot:
[deeply concerned] W-Whatever has happened to Mademoiselle Gray?

Lady Tamplin:
She's... Oh God...

[groaning]

Lady Tamplin:
I should not have looked at all of that... *blood*!

[Poirot's eyes widen in shock, he rushes into the train when he is nearly run over by Lenox]

Lenox Tamplin:
[screaming in horror] Aahhh! AAAAHHH!

[Hercule Poirot looks at the door of Katharine Gray's compartment, Number 3. He pauses, summoning up the courage to open it. He opens it and finds Kathrine Gray, who is also opening the door, walking out alive and well]

Hercule Poirot, Katherine:
Oh!

Katherine:
[pleasantly surprised] Oh, M. Poirot! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!

Hercule Poirot:
[he heaves a deep sigh of relief]

Katherine:
I'm sorry I'm late and kept you waiting... I was looking for my silly comb.

[Poirot smiles, but then becomes grave as he looks down the isle of the train realizing that the person attacked is in... ]

Hercule Poirot:
Something's happened in Number Seven!

[He dashes off to investigate, Katharine looks on, gravely concerned, realizing that something had gone wrong]

[Donovan is stumbling through the darkness of a dark, seemingly vacant apartment]

Donovan:
What on earth is Pat piping up to? Everything is the wrong bloody place!

[Jimmy turns on the lights; revealing that they are not in the right apartment]

Donovan:
This isn't Pat's flat.

Jimmy:
[excited whisper] Jeepers!

Donovan:
[reading a letter on the table] Mrs. Ernestine Grant...

[beat]

Donovan:
Oh, Lord! we're in *36B*, not *46B*!

Jimmy:
We better get out here before she finds us!

[someone snoring sounds]

Jimmy, Donovan:
[the two men burst into giggles]

[the two men are about to leave when Jimmy notices something shocking]

Jimmy:
Look!

[Donovan turns to see a pair of a woman's feet sticking out behind the packing cases in the flat]

Donovan:
[genuinely shocked] Good God!

[They walk over and discover Mrs. Ernestine Grant's corpse concealed behind the curtain]

Patricia Matthews, Mildred:
[singing in the background] Life is just a bowl of cherries...

[scene shifts to Hastings and Poirot watching Patricia and Mildred singing on the stairs]

Patricia Matthews, Mildred:
[singing cont] Life's too mysterious, life's too mysterious... You work, you play, you worry so/ But you can't get your dough/ while you glow, glow, glow!

Donovan:
[He and Jimmy walk out of the apartment; looking perturbed] What do we do?

Jimmy:
[pause] I don't know.

Donovan:
[to Patricia and Mildred] Pat, Mildred. Something's happened.

Patricia Matthews:
What is it?

Donovan:
There's a dead woman down here.

Mildred:
[as she and Patricia rush down the stairs; unaware that Poirot is close by; shocked] Oh my God!

Donovan:
[confessing his crime] I wanted a divorce. I begged Ernestine, but she refused. She said she'll never let me free. After I fell in love with Pat, Ernestine started hounding me. Telephone me everyday, held it over me, threatening to tell Pat everything! Drove. Me. Mad.

[pause]

Donovan:
And then, she phoned me to tell me that she moved into the flat beneath Pat's. I couldn't believe it. By then, I knew she was crazy enough to do anything.

Hercule Poirot:
Tell me, what happened yesterday evening?

Donovan:
Ernestine called me in the afternoon...

[Flashback; Donovan exists out of the elevator, looks around and walks towards the 36B flat]

Donovan:
[voiceover] She had written to Pat to arrange to see her; to tell her the truth about us. Normally, I assumed the worst. I knew I had to do something once and for all.

[Donovan rings the doorbell of the flat]

Donovan:
[voiceover cont] I called into her flat around six.

Mrs. Grant:
[opening the door] Oh, it's you! You better come in.

[She lets Donovan in, she walks over to the liquor cabinet]

Mrs. Grant:
[offering Donovan a drink of Sherry] Drink?

Donovan:
[sternly] You have no right to go around hounding Pat.

Mrs. Grant:
[chuckles; as she pours sherry into a shot glass] I'm not hounding her my darling, I just going to tell what a rotten bound you are. Promising to marry her when you're *already* married to *me*.

Donovan:
We were married in Switzerland, Ernestine. If you remember... It doesn't count under the British law.

Mrs. Grant:
[dismissively] So you keep telling me.

Mrs. Grant:
I've decided to test your little theory. I asked my solicitor a copy of our marriage certificate. He's telephoned me to say it is completely valid. And he's mailed me a letter to confirm it.

Donovan:
Show me.

Mrs. Grant:
I haven't received his letter yet, It might arrive in the evening post I expect.

Mrs. Grant:
[she giggles deviously]

Mrs. Grant:
It's going to be all a shock for poor Miss Matthews.

Donovan:
[gravely] I warning you Ernestine. If you approach Pat, so God help me, I'll kill you! I swear it!

Mrs. Grant:
[laughing; then spitefully] Oh, Donovan! Don't make me laugh. Now run along and try to *impress* somebody else will you?Poor Miss Matthews. You really have let her down, Donovan.

[She smiles haughtily and triumphantly; two gun shots ring out; Ernestine drops her shot glass that crashes and breaks on the floor as her smile is replaced with a look of slight alarm. She looks down to see two bullet wounds in her chest. She feels the spot where she has been hit, she looks at Donovan who is holding the revolver that shot her and she falls forward on the table, dead]

Donovan:
[in present] I warned her, you see... But she wouldn't listen. Afterwords, I went home and changed for the theater. I couldn't let her hurt Pat like that, could I?

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