The Camblanes Affair

BBC News Feb 6,2026

 My friend Hercule Poirot and I had been taking a relaxing motoring holiday in south-west France. The warmth of the air and the beautiful countryside did much to restore him after a number of difficult cases and his moustaches were in excellent fettle. Little did we suspect, as we proceeded down a long, tree-lined avenue into Camblanes et Meynac, what awaited us. 

Poirot was enjoying himself observing the locals as we drove slowly through the town towards the Hotel de Bristol. "See, Hastings, that man with the baguettes. And there in the square, the old gentlemen playing at boules, while across by the church I observe the ladies going to mass. Ah, all is as it should be...but sacre bleu this is very strange. Look there, Hastings"

I looked across the street as he directed but saw only a few townsfolk going about their business. I said as much. Poirot shook his head "Oh, my friend, you do not look, you only glance. But I have seen....well, let us await developments. It may be nothing at all". 

We arranged comfortable rooms at the hotel, enjoyed an excellent dinner and took a stroll in the late evening, walking around the old square as did others similarly inclined. Poirot raised his hat politely to those we passed but suddenly he gripped my arm. 

"There, Hastings, there. You see them?"
"Really, Poirot, I have no idea ...good lord. Those two!"
"Exactement, mon ami. Two men with pigtails, wearing the silken robes of the Manchu dynasty and holding chopsticks. They seek to blend in but they cannot evade the eyes of Hercule Poirot. Hastings, we have sinister Orientals in our midst!"
"But what on earth put you on to them?"
"As we came into town, Hastings. I mentioned it to you but of course you saw nothing. You did not see the huge radar dish on the roof of the Villa Marguerite. You failed to observe the cameras all along the Rue Faubourg, each marked CSA, the initials of the China Spying Agency. Nor did you see the barbed wire and watchtowers that protect the mysterious Chateau Mysterieux, nor that intercontintal ballistic missile cunningly concealed amidst the chimney pots of the Mairie. They did not fool me. I have made certain arrangements".

Even as we walked back to our hotel, there was a blare of sirens and several black Citroens full of gendarmes converged on the square. Within moments our quarry were apprehended. One of the policemen approached us respectfully.

"Inspector Maigret sends his compliments, messieurs, and will be round to join you for a cognac as soon as our birds are safely locked up and he has informed the press of his coup against these spies"
"Poirot, surely you will not let him take all the credit for this?" I gasped. My friend flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate cuff.
"We are en vacances, mon ami. Let some other fictional detective have some publicity, hein?" And he sat in a deep armchair, stroked his moustaches and smiled benevolently.