On a silver dish the Christmas pudding reposed in all its glory. A large football of a pudding, a piece of holly stuck in it like a triumphant flag and glorious flames of blue and red rising round it. There was a cheer and cries of Ooh-ah. Hercule Poirot merely surveyed the portion on his plate with a rather curious expression on his face.A result, no doubt, of finding a cryptic note in his bedroom which had read, Don t eat none of the plum pudding. One who wishes you well.
Apie mus