Five Little Pigs

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by Collins 1942

Copyright © 1942 Agatha Christie Ltd. All rights reserved.

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2013

Cover design by Ghost Design

Cover photograph © Mohammad Itani / Trevillion Images

www.agathachristie.com

Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780007120734

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 9780007422340 Version: 2018-08-13

To Stephen Glanville

Cover Page

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Introduction

Book I

1 Counsel for the Defence

2 Counsel for the Prosecution

3 The Young Solicitor

4 The Old Solicitor

5 The Police Superintendent

6 This Little Pig Went to Market…

7 This Little Pig Stayed at Home

8 This Little Pig Had Roast Beef

9 This Little Pig Had None

10 This Little Pig Cried ‘Wee Wee Wee’

Book II

Narrative of Philip Blake

Narrative of Meredith Blake

Narrative of Lady Dittisham

Narrative of Cecilia Williams

Narrative of Angela Warren

Book III

1 Conclusions

2 Poirot Asks Five Questions

3 Reconstruction

4 Truth

5 Aftermath

Keep Reading

About the Author

The Agatha Christie Collection

About the Publisher

Hercule Poirot looked with interest and appreciation at the young woman who was being ushered into the room.

There had been nothing distinctive in the letter she had written. It had been a mere request for an appointment, with no hint of what lay behind that request. It had been brief and business-like. Only the firmness of the handwriting had indicated that Carla Lemarchant was a young woman.

And now here she was in the flesh—a tall, slender young woman in the early twenties. The kind of young woman that one definitely looked at twice. Her clothes were good, an expensive well-cut coat and skirt and luxurious furs. Her head was well poised on her shoulders, she had a square brow, a sensitively cut nose and a determined chin. She looked very much alive. It was her aliveness, more than her beauty, which struck the predominant note.

Before her entrance, Hercule Poirot had been feeling old—now he felt rejuvenated—alive—keen!

As he came forward to greet her, he was aware of her dark grey eyes studying him attentively. She was very earnest in that scrutiny.

She sat down and accepted the cigarette that he offered her. After it was lit she sat for a minute or two smoking, still looking at him with that earnest, thoughtful gaze.

Poirot said gently:

‘Yes, it has to be decided, does it not?’

She started. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Her voice was attractive, with a faint, agreeable huskiness in it.

‘You are making up your mind, are you not, whether I am a mere mountebank, or the man you need?’

She smiled. She said:

‘Well, yes—something of that kind. You see, M. Poirot, you—you don’t look exactly the way I pictured you.’

‘And I am old, am I not? Older than you imagined?’

‘Yes, that too.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m being frank, you see. I want—I’ve got to have—the best.’

‘Rest assured,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘I am the best!’

Carla said: ‘You’re not modest…All the same, I’m inclined to take you at your word.’

Poirot said placidly:

‘One does not, you know, employ merely the muscles. I do not need to bend and measure the footprints and pick up the cigarette ends and examine the bent blades of grass. It is enough for me to sit back in my chair and think. It is this’—he tapped his egg-shaped head—‘this that functions!’

‘I know,’ said Carla Lemarchant. ‘That’s why I’ve come to you. I want you, you see, to do something fantastic!’