Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks

’The Affair at the Bungalow’ • After the Funeral • Appointment with Death • At Bertram’s Hotel • ‘The Companion’ • Death in the Clouds • Elephants Can Remember • Murder on the Orient Express • ‘The Mystery of Hunter’s Lodge’ • The Mystery of the Blue Train • Sparkling Cyanide • Taken at the Flood • Three Act Tragedy • Plot details of most of the Labours are also revealed.

The Labours of Hercules is not just Agatha Christie’s greatest short story collection; it is one of the greatest collections in the entire crime fiction genre. It is brilliant in concept, design and execution. As he once again plans his retirement and the consequent cultivation of vegetable marrows, Poirot is attracted to the idea of a few well-chosen cases as his swan song. He decides to accept only cases similar to those undertaken by his mythological namesake, with the stipulation that his will be metaphorical equivalents.

All but one of the stories were published originally in The Strand magazine over a period of almost a year. ‘The Nemean Lion’ appeared in November 1939 and the rest of the tales followed in the same order as the book until ‘The Apples of the Hesperides’ in September 1940. The final story, ‘The Capture of Cerberus’, did not appear in The Strand and has a more complicated history, which is discussed, with the original version of that story, in the Appendix to this volume.

In August 1948 Penguin Books made publishing history when they issued one million Agatha Christie books on the same day—100,000 copies each of ten titles. The venture was such a success that it was repeated five years later. This time they were titles of her own choosing, and for each she wrote a special Foreword giving some background information. One of this second batch was The Labours of Hercules and in its Foreword Christie explains that Poirot’s Christian name was the inspiration that prompted her to write these stories. She goes on to explain that some of the tales, ‘The Lernean Hydra’ and ‘The Cretan Bull’, for instance, were straightforward and, indeed, these are very typical Christie village-murder-mystery Poirot cases. ‘The Erymanthian Boar’ and ‘The Girdle of Hyppolita’, she reveals, gave her more trouble—and ‘The Capture of Cerberus’ almost defeated her.

The metaphors throughout are inspired—wagging tongues represent the multi-headed viper in ‘The Lernean Hydra’, a sleazy tabloid newspaper stands for the polluted Augean Stables and ‘The Apples of the Hesperides’ are those on a priceless Cellini chalice. The stories themselves range from the domestic mystery in ‘The Lernean Hydra’ and the nostalgic love story, albeit with a Christie twist, in ‘The Arcadian Deer’, to the brutal thriller in ‘The Erymanthian Boar’. Amusing scenes—Poirot suffering in a hotel in the west of Ireland—alternate with terrifying scenes—Poirot helpless at the approach of a razor-wielding criminal—and poignant ones—Poirot convincing a terminally ill ballerina to return to her true love.

In many of the stories she manages to work in a second example of symbolism apart from the main one. ‘The Erymanthian Boar’ features a dangerous criminal in snowy surroundings, mirroring the physical setting as well as the metaphorical animal; ‘The Cretan Bull’ has a man of magnificent physique as well as, literally, basinfuls of blood; in ‘The Apples of the Hesperides’ Poirot is helped by the tipster Atlas who, like his famous namesake, takes the weight of Poirot on his shoulders; and the clamouring schoolgirls at the end of ‘The Girdle of Hyppolita’ are compared to the Amazons from the fable. Hercules’ castanets of bronze in the original are replaced by the modern telegraph in ‘The Stymphalean Birds’; the golden horns of ‘The Arcadian Deer’ appear as the golden hair of Katrina and in the mythical version Hercules does not kill the deer but returns it safely, as does Hercule Poirot with the love of Ted Williamson’s life.

There are copious notes for this inventive collection. This in itself is unusual, as there are relatively few notes for most of Christie’s short stories. This is probably because the writing of this collection involved extra research into the originals and more working out of detail than normally associated with the writing of a short story. Also, these stories were written as part of a collection and not, as before, individual stories for sporadic publication. Most of these notes are included in Notebook 44 with some minor notes scattered over three others, Notebooks 28, 39 and 62.

Notebook 44 contains some of the background to the Greek myths that Christie used as a basis for the tales:

Hydra of Lernea—9 heads burnt out in flames—last head cut off and buried

The Deer with feet of bronze—horns of gold—feet of bronze—dedicated to Artemis—a year to find her

Boar of Erymanthe—Combined with centaurs of Pholoe—trapped on precipice of snow and captured alive

Augean Stables—River through breach in wall

Birds of Stymphalia—Birds of prey eat human flesh. H drives them out with bronze castanets and shoots them

Cretan Bull—mad bull

Horses of Diomedes (Mares)—savage—chained to mangers—H tames them

Girdle of Hyppolita—Hera spreads rumour and Amazons revolt

Troupeau of Geryon—giant with 3 bodies or with 3 heads—guarded by 2-headed dog Ortho and Eurython

Apples of Hesperides—H holds up sky while A[tlas] gets apples—A wants table then H asks for cushion for shoulder—hands back to A and goes off. Golden apples given by Immo to Jupiter for nuptials—apples delivered—are given back to Hesperides

Cerberus—Descent into underworld—no weapon—Cerberus returns to underworld

She toyed with a few ideas before getting down to the serious plotting and many of these were incorporated into the finished product. Eight of the stories follow, with only minor variations, these initial notes, although she made changes to ‘The Horses of Diomedes’. Notice, though, how the two stories that she admitted gave her some trouble, ‘The Erymanthian Boar’ and ‘The Girdle of Hyppolita’, change quite considerably and the one that ‘almost defeated’ her, ‘The Capture of Cerberus’, is totally different in the published collection:

Lion of Nemea—Peke dog kidnapped

Hydra of Lernea—Poison Pen—or scandal in country place—one person at bottom of it

Lernean Hydra—Woman suspected of killing husband—(verdict was accident!)

Deer of Arcadia—Dancer who disappears—young man—could P find her

Erymanthian Boar—Criminal traced and taken—race gang?

Stymphalean Birds—Young man blackmailed…by two women

Augean Stables—Political scandal—HP to distract attention—gets medical student to produce dead body Sham murder? Party funds or archaeological theft?

Cretan Bull—Mad killer?

Horses of Diomedes—taming of his children—boys? By introducing them to police work

Girdle of Hyppolita—a head mistress? Oxford don? A priceless manuscript?

Geryon Cattle—Strange sect—leader unmasked—perhaps the flock of some pastor—a new sect—religious enthusiast Ceryon from Orient—eastern Religion

Apple of Hesperides—Treasure in a convent—disappeared many years ago—stolen—given by thief to convent

Gerberus—A dog story? Or somebody dead—brought back from the dead—or been murdered?

The kidnapping of a Pekingese dog provides Poirot with his first Labour.

As can be seen, the notes for ‘The Nemean Lion’ are extensive and follow closely the published version. It may well have been the case that, as the first story in the series, Christie gave it a lot of thought and careful consideration. It is also the longest story in the collection. There is a lone note in Notebook 39 that foreshadows this plot; although it does not generally resemble the published version of ‘The Nemean Lion’, the story does feature the important fact of Miss Carnaby’s inheritance of a Peke from a former employer:

Companion left Peke—she goes as housemaid—gives different names alternate places? She and friend—latter gets reward

The next extract, from Notebook 44, is an accurate precis of the published story:

HP summoned by Joseph Hoggin—old boy very upset—his wife lost her Pekingese—received a demand for £200, which she paid and dog was returned. HP has interview with Mrs J and Miss Carnaby—the companion—foolish talkative woman. Facts are as follows—Amy and Ching went to park—A saw baby in his pram—just speaking to Nurse but Ching gone—lead cut—she fetches lead—HP admits it is cut—the women look at him breathlessly—then letter comes—the money to be sent in £1 notes.

In the end P instructs Georges to find flat between certain limits—he asks Sir J—remind him of manufacturer in Liege who poisoned his wife to marry a blonde secretary. P’s visit to flat on Miss A’s day out—Augustus barks and tries to keep him out. The invalid sister—P knows all—her defence—no pension—old age—no home and no education—a trade union. Ching left at flat—Augustus taken—can always find his way home. How often? Ten times.

There is more to this story than at first meets the eye. Amy Carnaby is a delightful but poignant creation. Her situation—elderly untrained companion facing a bleak future in her old age—is similar to that of Dora Bunner in A Murder is Announced when Miss Blacklock rescues her. Miss Carnaby’s criminal brain is, however, a major asset and Poirot, in ‘The Flock of Geryon’, calls her ‘one of the most successful criminals that I have ever encountered’. The plot, a very clever one, is also particularly rich for a 20-page short story. There is the main plot involving the Pekinese dog/Nemean Lion but also a sub-plot involving the soap manufacturer poisoner in Belgium years earlier. And it is not fanciful to see, in the switch-of-dogs idea, the forerunner of Evil under the Sun, which appeared two years later. Poirot also mentions this case in Chapter 14 of The Clocks.

Ugly rumours bring Poirot to a small village to investigate the death of the doctor’s wife.

The plot of this story is largely contained on two pages in Notebook 44, the only difference being the change of name from Nurse Carpenter to Harrison:

Doctor comes to P—embarrassed—no good going to police—wife dead—rumours—practice falling off- doesn’t know how to combat it. P asks—who is the woman? Doctor angry—leaves—P says must have truth. Girl dispenser—admits will marry her—wife a difficult invalid—details of her death consistent with poisoning arsenic. P warns him—I shall get at truth. P sees girl—honest—frank—says old Miss L is worst. P. sees Miss L—etc. etc. Tracked down to Nurse—Handsome middle-aged woman—Nurse Carpenter?—She did it. He finds nurse—her Madonna face—he presses her—autopsy—she says no—no indeed—she was murdered—morphia pills

And ten pages later…

Lernean Hydra Cont.

P talks of Home Office—she says yes—because Mrs O was murdered. P gets them to announce engagement—Jean gets abusive letter. The morphia pills—v—opium pills—Doctor called in—orders opium pills—which Jean supplies

The intervening pages include preliminary notes for four of the other Labours as well as two pages of chemical formulae, possibly of potential poisons. This outline is generally in keeping with the published story; note however that the idea, in the second extract, of announcing an engagement and a consequent abusive letter is not pursued. In many ways this is the most typically Christiean of all the Labours—Poirot goes to a small village to investigate a mysterious death, in this case the possible poisoning of a wife, whose husband is under suspicion. The short stories ‘The Cornish Mystery’ and ‘How Does Your Garden Grow?’, and the novels Dumb Witness and Mrs McGinty’s Dead, as well as the Marple novel The Moving Finger, all have similar set-ups. And this short story has distinct parallels with the earlier story ‘The Blue Geranium’ from The Thirteen Problems.

Poirot penetrates an impersonation in an effort to reunite two lovers before it is too late.

’The Arcadian Deer’ is an idyllic story, as befits one set in Arcady, and does not feature a crime. There is however a Christiean twist in the final words of the first extract—and one that she uses a few times elsewhere in her work, although usually for a sinister purpose. The impersonation of an attendant (maid, butler, waiter, steward) is used here for non-criminal reasons, unlike its use in Death in the Clouds, Appointment with Death, Three Act Tragedy, Sparkling Cyanide, Elephants Can Remember and At Bertram’s Hotel. And its reverse (the impersonation by a domestic of a ‘real person’) is a feature of Taken at the Flood, The Mystery of the Blue Train, After the Funeral and Murder on the Orient Express. Short stories ‘The Affair at the Bungalow’ and ‘The Companion’ from The Thirteen Problems and ‘The Mystery of Hunter’s Lodge’ from Poirot Investigates also feature this ploy.

There are two sketches for the opening scene of this story, the second of which is the more detailed. Both versions are accurate, although Ted’s beloved, Mary Brown in the first draft, has become in the second the more romantic Marie and, ultimately, ‘Nita—Incognita—Juanita’:

Young man in country village—car breaks down—appeals to him—find his sweetheart Mary Brown—gone to London and vanished—if in trouble will see her through. Was MB down there with a rich lady—MB was servant—really the dancer herself (kept by Lord Masterfield?) or wife of a rich polo playing young American. P sees her—a hard faced Young woman—she tells him she has not maid’s address. The maid—a coarse looking girl. P knows it is the girl herself

Begging your pardon Sir—the young man—simple—handsome as a god—his persistence. Recognised HP from photo in Tatler—couldn’t be another moustache like that—P softens. P has dinner at Inn—young man comes up there—find this girl—Marie—doesn’t know other name. Switzerland—the girl—he hardly remembers her—so changed—her maid—Yes—remembers her—that other—do you mean Juanita—replaced maid when latter was away—P says Yes—what happened to her—she died young—Arcady. P explains—mystery about maid—blackmailed Sir George—his wife—Nita—Incognita—Juanita

A violent criminal and an isolated setting combine to make this fourth Labour a very dangerous one.

As befits its origins, this is the most bloodthirsty of the Labours and is in many ways a very atypical Christie story. A gangster arranging a rendezvous on a Swiss mountaintop is not a regular feature of her output. The image of Hercule Poirot hopping out of bed to relieve three thugs of their firearms while someone else holds them at bay is one that sits badly with the great detective of the square eggs and the blackcurrant sirop. That said, it contains a twisting plot with multiple impersonations crammed into a mere 20 pages. This is also a use of the plastic surgeon idea, which is mentioned a few times in the Notebooks, including the early, unused notes for Sleeping Murder, as well as those for Crooked House and the tentative dramatisation of Murder in Mesopotamia.

The following notes accurately reflect, if somewhat cryptically, the course of a rather complicated story:

Switzerland—HP leaves World’s End—goes to Zermatt and up from there to hotel at top—something happens to funicular. Has HP first received telegram—or note—from M. Belex who saw him—the notorious Marascaud—believed to be up there—Inspector Drouet—certain people went up in funicular with him.

Schwab—lonely American

Dr. Karl Lutz (nervous physician) or Austrian Jewish doctor—facial surgeon

3 horsey men—cardsharpers

Nervous English doctor

Already there?

The waiter—Gustave—introduces himself to HP as Inspector Drouet

Manager—terribly nervous—has been bribed by Gust[ave]

Mysterious patient

Marascaud bookmaker—took cash—share out in this lonely place. Gustave said ‘It’s one of them’—G is ‘attacked’ in night—doctor attends on him—speaks to P. P sees him—his face smothered in bandages. Who attacked him—3 men—they get drunk—attack P—Schwab—saves him with pistol

Christie’s preliminary notes for this story are partly utilised as the criminal Marrascaud is ‘traced and taken’ alive—an important point, as Poirot underlines in the last line of the story; the ‘race gang’ element, however, is not pursued.

The fifth Labour presents Poirot with one of the most unusual cases of his entire career.

The plot for this story—involving some elements from Christie’s preliminary notes, though not the ‘dead body’—is summarised in Notebook 62:

Hercule Poirot and Prime Minister—P looks at him—as old Scotch chemistry Professor has said he’s a good man. P explains why Dagmar always hated her father—clean up the Augean stables—P sees Mrs NP—still beautiful woman—her reaction—P says certain cryptic things to her.

P and Dashett (young newspaper man)—says you have to turn the Thames and wash out Houses of Parliament. Sydney Cox—editor of This Week’s Garbage—nasty little man—HP comes to them—pleads—threatens—finally begs. Paragraph—The Honey Bee—in Little Bedchester—in the Tube—Mrs NP leaves London for Scotland. Libel trial—Miss Greta Handersohn—a waitress in a café in Copenhagen—approached by a journalist. P says a very old idea—Queen’s Necklace—to discredit Marie Antoinette.

This story follows the notes very closely, but there is one puzzling feature—the use of the initials ‘NP’ throughout in reference to the Prime Minister. There is no equivalent in the story, where the Prime Minister is Edward Ferrier. Although it is an enjoyable story with an inspired symbolism, it is one that is in the highest degree unlikely both in the mechanics of the story and in its outcome. One can’t help wondering if Christie’s unpleasant experiences in the aftermath of her 1926 disappearance were, to some degree, responsible for this swipe at the tabloid newspaper industry. This case is mentioned in the ‘Maids in the Kitchen’ chapter of One, Two, Buckle My Shoe when Poirot refers to it as ‘ingenious’.

A good deed has horrifying consequences for an innocent abroad.

The first attempt at this story, with its domestic setting, does not figure at all in the published version although it is possible to discern the germ of the subsequent idea—two women, an abusive husband, a young man emotionally blackmailed into helping:

Mrs Garland and Mrs Richardson—latter married—terrified of husband—latter gets a gun out—young woman parks herself in Gary’s apartment—he is young, married, a solicitor. Husband comes and browbeats him—threatens divorce—a womanish creature—Or—mother pleads also—an aging creature

A second outline, however, is followed almost exactly with Poirot making a very belated appearance in just the last four pages. The change of setting to a fictional foreign country, Herzoslovakia (scene of The Secret of Chimneys), is in keeping with many of the other Labours:

Harold—his friendship with Nora Raymond—two women—Poles—look like birds. Her husband is studying architecture—her mother—worried—anxious. She comes into his room—for help—husband rushes in—swings something at her—she dodges—rushes out—man rushes after her—into her room—she fires—he falls—she gets him out of room—someone might come. Mother comes—says he’s dead. Advices [sic] HP—he speaks to him—or—hotel manager—kept quiet—he goes out and wires for money—gives it to them—police come—everything hushed up—then mother in agony again—the women in room next door have heard

Even here, though, there are differences. In the published version there is no mention of Nora Raymond and a paperweight achieves the ‘death’, not the gun suggested by the notes (‘she fires—he falls’). This change makes sense; the story is set in a hotel, and a gunshot in such a location would have attracted attention and made the plot unworkable.

Is Poirot’s seventh Labour merely a case of bad heredity or is it something more sinister?

There are relatively few notes about the seventh Labour, ‘The Cretan Bull’. The main problem seems to have been the choice of poison—Christie finally settled on atropine (also the poison of choice in ‘The Thumb Mark of St Peter’ from The Thirteen Problems). The story shares an untypical emphasis on blood—the ‘mad killer’ idea—with ‘The Erymanthian Boar’. But as in other Christie titles—Hercule Poirot’s Christmas and ‘The Importance of a Leg of Mutton’ from The Big Four, for example—this is an important part of the plot:

P asked down—country squire and old friend fear that squire’s boy is mad—madness in family—boy has been in Navy—(got out of that)—squire never got over wife’s death—boating accident or car accident—

(Does HP enquire about that as though he thinks car had been tampered with by crony? Wife only with him by afterthought says husband—asked, friend blusters—said first he had heard of that—make him sound suspicious. Boy marvellously handsome—girl there in love with him—he himself believes he is mad. Drug—eyes? Scopolamine—hyoscyamine—atropine—or aconite—ointment smeared on—hallucinations. Final attempt to kill girl

This story shares a plot device with A Caribbean Mystery and is in fact referenced during the plotting of the later novel. The most interesting few words in the above extract are undoubtedly ‘make him sound suspicious’. This was the strategy on which Christie built her career—the presentation of a story in such a way as to make the innocent seem guilty and vice versa. Few people reading this story will not single out George Frobisher as the villain of the piece, which is exactly what Christie intended.

Poirot tackles the scourge of drug-pushers.

There are two distinct sets of notes for this eighth Labour. Despite the fact that Notebook 44 contains the ‘correct’ notes for most of the other Labours, the relevant notes for this story are those from Notebook 62:

P on trail of drug racket—County place—(not county)—rich manufacturers etc—

Old General Boynton—Gout—choleric—swollen leg. Daughters—wild girls—one gets herself into a mess—not daughter at all?

Gang—Old Boy the head of the racket—Girls turn on him

Stillingfleet—calls on Poirot—the drug racket—turns decent people into wild beasts—you asked me to keep my eyes open—girl in a fire—mews—hashish—he got girl out of it. The other sister—used to be decent kids—father an Old General. P sees them—sullen girl—hard boiled—says Stillingfleet is a good sort. P says will look her father up—look of alarm in her eyes—P says will be discreet. S[tillingfleet] and P—says very young—18—damned shame they aren’t better looked after—P goes down to Norfolk—the General—Gout—temper—worried about his girls. P says: Who are their friends?

Dalloway—man like a horse—slow etc.—Mrs Larkin—at her house P sees the others—dartboard etc.—

Hylda—vague girl—Cummings—young doctor—assistant to older man—sandwich box (belonging to Dalloway) in hall—P gets note (look in S. Box)—he does

There are a few minor changes—Dr Stillingfleet (possibly of ‘The Dream’ and Third Girl) changes to Dr Stoddart, the sandwich box becomes a hunting flask and there is no mention of a dartboard.

There are notes in Notebook 44 relating to this story, but they present different, and in one case, rather outlandish speculations:

The Mares of Diomedes

Old racing man—his ‘gals’ very wild—what can P do?—Bloomsbury—one of them shoots someone—(Mrs Barney?)—unlike twin idea—woman servant one of them—NO!!

OR

P pays a young man to be ‘killed’ by one of them—Or—Secret service—Jacinta?

The idea of ‘the old General and his wild girls’, from the first extract, is retained (note the change from ‘boys’, in the preliminary notes, to ‘girls’ here) but the rather bizarre idea of Poirot paying someone to allow himself to be killed, presumably as a ruse, was abandoned. The reference to Mrs Barney is to an infamous London murder case when the glamorous Elvira Barney was tried, and subsequently acquitted, for the shooting of her lover Michael Scott Stephen in May 1932.

The potent symbolism of the mythical horses that feed on human flesh transmuting into dope peddlers who carry out a similar loathsome trade is undeniable. But there is an element of sermonising in the story that tends to detract from its plot. Once again Christie trades on our misperception, this time of the seemingly typical retired army stereotype, a not infrequent character in her fiction—Colonel Protheroe in The Murder at the Vicarage, Major Porter in Taken at the Flood, Major Palgrave in A Caribbean Mystery, General Macarthur in Ten Little Niggers and Major Burnaby in The Sittaford Mystery. And there are many more examples. But they are not always to be trusted…

The allusion to the unlike twin is to an idea that crops up again and again throughout the Notebooks (see ‘The House of Dreams’, page 303). As shown by its constant reappearance, Christie never successfully tackled this idea and here was no exception. A certain amount of exasperation is detectable in the exhortation, ‘NO!!’, to herself.

Two seemingly disparate cases, an art robbery and a missing schoolgirl, are brought together in the ninth Labour.

This is another story that is considerably changed from Christie’s early conception of it, although traces of the ‘head mistress’ idea are still visible. As can be seen, with this story Christie gave free rein to her considerable inventiveness. There are quite a number of sketches both for the development of the story and for the interpretation of the original myth—a manuscript, an archaeological find and a picture were all considered. And even after the picture was adopted, she still considered some other scenarios:

P at Oganis or Lestranges—very super girl’s finishing school—the frightening Miss Beddingfeld

Is girl there really a crook? Or is she missing millionaire’s daughter who is being hunted for everywhere?

A precious manuscript? A picture? An archaeological find?

A stolen picture? Painted over by one of the girls (crook) and presented to Head Mistress—latter therefore taken it into the right country—custom’s Pass—etc.

Kidnapped schoolgirl—she is new—delivered over to Miss

Nortress—dull with plate [plaits?]—wire on teeth—miserable skinny looking object—they go to Paris—girl disappears on train—(really emerges from lavatory and joins man—all made up—very actressy—in mink coat. On way back from lunch—slips into lavatory—man comes out—hat found on line. Girl found a day later at Amiens—unhurt—dazed.

Theft of famous picture (G of H). It is to be smuggled into France—to dealer there?—crook? Acc[tress] takes employment with ‘elder sister’—meets child—and takes her to Victoria—knock out drops—false actress becomes kid—once in France changes in lavatory—arrives with man—very smart.

Pictures in exhibition with other girls work—P as conjuror—wipes it off with turpentine—exposes the Girdle of Hyppolita

This is another Labour that is rich in plot with two seemingly disparate ideas, the disappearance of a schoolgirl and a stolen painting, neatly tied together. There is a certain similarity to the book that she was to write 20 years later—Cat among the Pigeons—in the smuggling of a valuable item in a schoolgirl’s luggage. The masquerade of an adult as a young girl is also a plot feature of that book, as well as of the short story ‘The Regatta Mystery’.

A protagonist from ‘The Nemean Lion’ returns to help Poirot investigate a series of odd deaths.

‘The Flock of Geryon’ is the weakest story in the series, and this is reflected in the paucity of notes; those that exist are vague enough to have been developed in almost any way. The following is from Notebook 44, and the sect suggested in the preliminary notes is one of the starting-off points:

P is visited by Miss? (Amelia)—little annuity—exercises people’s dogs—has been reading German book—criminal impulses—sublimation. Could she work for P? A case—her friend—strange sect—down in Devon. Young millionaire’s son—there? Or middle-aged daughter of very rich man? Or rich man’s widow?

There is no particular ingenuity in either the story or the symbolism. It is rescued only by the presence of the enterprising and entertaining Amy Carnaby from ‘The Nemean Lion’. Oddly, there is no mention in the notes of Carnaby’s name. ‘Miss? (Amelia)’ may be Christie’s own shorthand (although it is not very short!) or it may simply be that she had no copy of The Strand to hand to check the earlier name. There is a brief reference to Hitler in this story (see also ‘The Capture of Cerberus’ in the Appendix).

A remote setting provides Poirot with the final clue in a case that really began centuries earlier.

There are fewer notes for ‘The Apples of the Hesperides’ than for any other Labour. The plot is not involved and required little in the way of planning once the main clue of the nun was planted. The basic outline reflects the final version:

Millionaire—gold chalice stolen from him—no clue. P talks to American detective—Pat Ryan—a wild fellow—a decent wife—but wouldn’t get him to run straight—she went back to Ireland—or daughter—a nun. Ireland—the convent—P arrives there—tramp with bottle of brandy—world in my hands

Little tipster in bar in Ireland—‘Atlas’ is his pseudonym—HP says doesn’t look it (horse to back—‘The World’ by Greek Hero out of Geography). You have not to hold up the World—only Hercule Poirot

Some minor details are different—the horse to back is Hercules rather than the more elaborate one of the notes; and there is no tramp.

Like the earlier ‘The Erymanthian Boar’, this case takes Poirot to a remote and beautiful location, this time on the west coast of Ireland. Apart from mentioning a coach tour holiday of Irish gardens in Chapter 11 of Hallowe’en Party, this is his only visit to Ireland and is memorable to him for all the wrong reasons.

Like Sir Joseph Hoggin in ‘The Nemean Lion’, Emery Power loses financially as a result of Poirot’s investigation although in his case there is a spiritual benefit. (There is a minor error of fact when Poirot promises him that ‘the nuns will say Masses for your soul’. Nuns can’t say mass and mass for the soul is celebrated only after a person’s death.) The final scene, in the isolated convent on the edge of the Atlantic, is a particularly poignant one with a wise and telling exchange.

Is the Countess Vera’s nightclub the scene of more than just harmless revelry?

The following extracts refer to the version of the story collected in The Labours of Hercules in 1948 (for the newly discovered version see the Appendix). It is further proof of Christie’s fecundity with plot that she was able to imagine a second allegorical interpretation of the last Labour of Hercules. In the original Greek myth Hercules has to pass into Hell, overcoming the ferocious hound that guards the gates; in the Poirot Labour Hell is a nightclub with a large dog in the entrance foyer. The steps down into the club are labelled ‘I meant well’ and ‘I can give up any time I like’, an amusing take on the old saying ‘The path to Hell is paved with good intentions’. And the hound, originally intended as a nightclub ‘gimmick’, plays a vital part in the plot.

As often happens, names were changed, but the following outline is otherwise accurately reflected in the published version:

Cerberus

Raid—blackout for 2 minutes—has it happened? And J tells P?

Combed the place inside out—jewels—no, drugs—no jewels but 5 or 6 people noticed weren’t there—

Secret exit—whole grill moves out—house next door—Cabinet Minister etc.

We were in the clear—Jimmy Mullins—wanted—Battersea Murderer—has given the place a write up—

But this time we’ve got to succeed—

P talks to dog man—

The fatal evening—Is P there?—Or does he hear?

He comes over wall—black out etc.—how many people come out

Mr Vitamian Crusoe—

Miss Sylvia Elkins

Giuseppe Martacendi—cook’s boy

Paul Varesco

Two packets—the emeralds—the other—cocaine

This is a more light-hearted interpretation of the myth than the original unpublished version, with the naming of both the nightclub itself and the amusing use of the steps into it. And we also get a glimpse of Miss Lemon’s hitherto unsuspected feminine instincts in the closing lines. On ‘the fatal evening’ Poirot is at the club but leaves early and Christie adopts the idea of Japp recounting the details to him (‘or does he hear?’). None of the early part of this story, Poirot’s meeting with the Countess in the London Underground and his subsequent visit to her nightclub, features in the Notebooks.

Exhibit G: Murder Is Easy: Seeds of Inspiration

‘The Case of the Perfect Maid’ • The Sittaford Mystery

These short jottings are perfect examples of Christie’s imaginative cultivation of even the smallest seed of an idea into a fully formed bloom—and often, with her customary good sense, she used that idea more than once. These ideas often appear in a list of similar ideas but sometimes on a page in the middle of notes for another title, as inspiration struck. And all of them appear separately from the plotting of the story in which they ultimately appeared.

Poor little rich girl—house on hill—luxury gadgets etc.—original owner

This appears on a list of a dozen ideas for possible Miss Marple stories. It probably dates from the early days of the Second World War as it is surrounded by notes for N or M? and Curtain. This idea is incorporated into ‘The Case of the Caretaker’, which first appeared in January 1942. And 25 years later much of that story was reworked for the 1967 novel Endless Night.

Hargreaves case—young man and girl—she suspected—swears to him she is innocent—he warns her—her innocence is proven—she then admits she is guilty

This idea, which has strong echoes of one of her greatest short story (and subsequent stage) successes—‘Witness for the Prosecution’, appears two pages after a page dated June 1944. It is included while she is sketching ideas for a ‘play on moral issue involving husband and wife’.

Witness in murder case—quite unimportant—offered post abroad—hears indirectly it is a fake offer—or servant—cook?

Appearing in a list of ‘Ideas A-U’ and dating from the early 1940s, this device had already been used in the early Mr Quin story ‘The Sign in the Sky’, first published in July 1924, and briefly in Chapter 6 of Why Didn’t They Ask Evans?. And in the early stages of The Big Four this ploy is used on Poirot himself.

Invisible ink—written (will?) Or print a different document

‘Motive Vs. Opportunity’ from The Thirteen Problems and ‘The Case of the Missing Will’ from Poirot Investigates both feature this idea. But as those two stories had originally appeared in the 1920s this jotting, from the late 1930s, cannot be their starting point. It appears on a long list a few pages before the notes for the stories that were to become The Labours of Hercules.

Not identical twins—one sister pretends to be 2—totally different looking woman—(invalid) pretends to be maid—really 2 of them

The idea of non-identical twins appears again and again in the Notebooks—featuring in both used and unused ideas—and this variation on it appears four times, twice in one Notebook. As outlined above, this device is the main one in ‘The Case of the Perfect Maid’.

Spoof butler

This idea is difficult to date but seems to have been a possibility Christie considered for one of Tommy and Tuppence’s Partners in Crime adventures, although the rest of Notebook 65, where it appears, is taken up with Ten Little Niggers. The short story ‘The Listerdale Mystery’, published in December 1925, concerns a ‘spoof butler’ but this note is unlikely to refer to that early story. It seems more likely that it became Three Act Tragedy, where such a butler is one of the major plot devices of that brilliant novel.

Or Japp—unhappy with D.P.P. A case—yes—not happy—asks Poirot will he check up on it. Young man—bitter—difficult

This note, appearing just ahead of a page dated September 1947, eventually became Mrs McGinty’s Dead, but not with Japp (who had long disappeared) but Superintendent Spence from Taken at the Flood. The bitter young man is the already convicted James Bentley.

Short Marple Stories A. Poison Pen—big hearty girl is it

This appears on a lengthy list of similar cryptic ideas for short Marples, sandwiched between the plotting of Sparkling Cyanide and N or M?. It is obviously the germ of The Moving Finger, although a ‘big hearty girl’ is not unmasked at the end of that novel.

…with teeth projecting, discoloured or white and even (better for short story)

The teeth of the victim are one of the first anomalies noticed by Miss Marple when she views The Body in the Library.

Stamp idea—man realises fortune—puts it on old letter—a Trinidad stamp on a Fiji letter

The ‘stamp idea’ appears frequently—at least eight times with minor variations. It is used in the Marple story ‘Strange Jest’ and is also a plot feature of Spider’s Web.

See a pin and pick it up all the day you’ll have good luck (dressmaker has been already—comes again—woman is dead)

This is the basis of ‘Village Murder’/’Tape-Measure Murder’ and a ploy of Poirot’s in ‘The Under Dog’. The idea of a murderer returning and ‘discovering’ the body also featured in The Sittaford Mystery.

Old lady in train—tells girl (or man) she is going to Scotland Yard—a murderer at work—she knows next victim will be the vicar—Girl takes job in village etc.

This jotting, which appears in a list dated January 1935, is the basis for Murder Is Easy, although without a murdered vicar or a girl taking a village job. The novel itself is one of the few for which there are no notes.