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The Chocolate Box -
a Hercule Poirot Short Story (Hercule Poirot),
by Agatha Christie.
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Trinitrine tablets came in handy when a Catholic priest, seemingly, wished to avoid a virulent anti-catholic succeeding to position of a minister. But it was quite different in reality, and Poirot had failed for once.
"“It is well that I sent for you. It is the providence of the good God that Virginie told me before she departed for the convent, what she had done. Listen, M. Poirot! My son was an evil man. He persecuted the church. He led a life of mortal sin. He dragged down other souls beside his own. But there was worse than that. As I came out of my room in this house one morning, I saw my daughter-in-law standing at the head of the stairs. She was reading a letter. I saw my son steal up behind her. One swift push, and she fell, striking her head on the marble steps. When they picked her up she was dead. My son was a murderer, and only I, his mother, knew it.”"
" ... My son inherited his wife’s money. He flourished as the green bay tree. And now he was to have a Minister’s portfolio. His persecution of the church would be redoubled. And there was Virginie. She, poor child, beautiful, naturally pious, was fascinated by him. He had a strange and terrible power over women. I saw it coming. I was powerless to prevent it. He had no intention of marrying her. The time came when she was ready to yield everything to him."
" ... I went into the study and opened the big box of chocolates that always stood on the table. I opened a new box by mistake. The other was on the table also. There was just one chocolate left in it. That simplified things, no one ate chocolates except my son and Virginie. I would keep her with me that night. All went as I had planned — ”"
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May 08, 2021 - May 08, 2021.
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