The Murder on the Links by Agatha Christie 2 An Appeal for Help It was five minutes past nine when I entered our joint sitting-room for breakfast on the following morning. My friend Poirot, exact to the minute as usual, was just tapping the shell of his second egg. He beamed upon me as I entered. “You have slept well, yes? You have recovered from the crossing so terrible? It is a marvel, almost you are exact this morning. _Pardon___, but your tie is not symmetrical. Permit that I rearrange him.” Elsewhere, I have described Hercule Poirot. An extraordinary little