date with death

Hercule Poirot paused for a moment, his hand on the window latch. He frowned in surprise, then slammed the window shut as if to block out every whisper of night air that might enter the room. He had grown up believing that all outside air should be left out, and that nighttime air, in particular, was a health hazard. As he carefully drew the curtains and headed towards his bed, he smiled calmly to...