The Chocolate Box

Agatha Christie

• Publisher: Dreamscape Media
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9798391995463
• eBook ISBN: 9781974936076
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

In Agatha Christie's short story, "The Chocolate Box, " Poirot describes a case he was unable to solve. Investigating the apparent poisoning of a popular Belgian civil servant, Poirot goes undercover to expose the murderer, only to discover the case is not so tidy as he thinks. But who could have wanted the man dead? This short story originally appeared in the May 23, 1923 issue of The Sketch magazine.

The Chocolate Box

IT was a wild night. Outside, the wind howled malevolently, and the rain beat against the windows in great gusts.

Poirot and I sat facing the hearth, our legs stretched out to the cheerful blaze. Between us was a small table. On my side of it stood some carefully brewed hot toddy; on Poirot’s was a cup of thick, rich chocolate which I would not have drunk for a hundred pounds! Poirot sipped the thick brown mess in the pink china cup, and sighed with contentment.

“Quelle belle vie!” he murmured.

“Yes, it’s a good old world,” I agreed. “Here am I with a job, and a good job too! And here are you, famous—”

“Oh, mon ami!” protested Poirot.

“But you are. And rightly so! When I think back on your long line of successes, I am positively amazed. I don’t believe you know what failure is!”

“He would be a droll kind of original who could say that!”

“No, but seriously, have you ever failed?”

“Innumerable times, my friend. What would you? La bonne chance, it cannot always be on your side. I have been called in too late. Very often another, working towards the same goal, has arrived there first. Twice have I been stricken down with illness just as I was on the point of success. One must take the downs with the ups, my friend.”

“I didn’t quite mean that,” I said. “I meant, had you ever been completely down and out over a case through your own fault?”

“Ah, I comprehend! You ask if I have ever made the complete prize ass of myself, as you say over here? Once, my friend—” A slow, reflective smile hovered over his face. “Yes, once I made a fool of myself.”

He sat up suddenly in his chair.

“See here, my friend, you have, I know, kept a record of my little successes. You shall add one more story to the collection, the story of a failure!”

He leaned forward and placed a log on the fire. Then, after carefully wiping his hands on a little duster that hung on a nail by the fireplace, he leaned back and commenced his story.

That of which I tell you (said M. Poirot) took place in Belgium many years ago. It was at the time of the terrible struggle in France between church and state. M. Paul Déroulard was a French deputy of note. It was an open secret that the portfolio of a Minister awaited him. He was among the bitterest of the anti-Catholic party, and it was certain that on his accession to power, he would have to face violent enmity. He was in many ways a peculiar man. Though he neither drank nor smoked, he was nevertheless not so scrupulous in other ways. You comprehend, Hastings, c’etait des femmes—toujours des femmes!

He had married some years earlier a young lady from Brussels who had brought him a substantial dot. Undoubtedly the money was useful to him in his career, as his family was not rich, though on the other hand he was entitled to call himself M. le Baron if he chose. There were no children of the marriage, and his wife died af...

Table of contents

• About Agatha Christie
• The Chocolate Box