Poirot roused himself with a start. “I reflect, that is all. I reflect.” “Meditation on Death. Death, the Recurring Decimal, by Hercule Poirot. One of his well-known monographs.” “Monsieur Ferguson,” said Poirot, “you are a very impertinent young man.” “You must excuse me. I like attacking established institutions.” “And I am an established institution?” “Precisely. What do you think of that girl?”
