The Capture of Cerberus
BY AGATHA CHRISTIE Hercule Poirot sipped his apéritif and looked out across the Lake of Geneva. He sighed. He had spent his morning talking to certain diplomatic personages, all in a state of high agitation, and he was tired. For he had been unable to offer them any comfort in their difficulties. The world was in a very disturbed state - every nation alert and tense. At any minute the blow might fall - and Europe once more be plunged into war. Hercule Poirot sighed. He remembered 1914 only too well. He had no illusions about war. It settled nothing. The peace it brought in its wake was usually only the peace of exhaustion - not a constructive peace. He thought sadly to himself: "If only a man could arise who would set enthusiasm for peace flaming through the world - as men have aroused enthusiasm for victory and conquest by force." Then he reflected, with Latin commonsense, that these ideas of his were unprofitable. They accomplished nothing. To ar...