"One cannot hurry the little grey cells, captain."
This is another decent episode, not only as a whodunit which works well and does so in a shrt format but, for once, also as a drama. The poor murder does the deed because he is a vivtim of what we would today call coercive control. None of the characters, in 1935, would have used the phtrase, but they all knew damn well what was going on.
It's all nicely done. All the characters behave like real people with real motives and, again, 1935 feels not quite so long ago, despite the inevitable casual racism of the characters as they wander around the Alexandria of King Fuad. Yet, despite some differences in social mores, these people are not so different from ourselves, if somewhat posher on the whole.
The summing up is the best yet, as showman Poirot has a little fun with ventriloquism. This still is not exactly my favourite television drama, but it has its moments.
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