Hello and welcome to another episode of Nostologic Mystery Radio.

I'm your host, Stevie Kay, and it's my honor to bring you the radio shows of yesterday year.

For today's episode, I bring you Agatha Christie's Hercule Perra and The Deadest Man in the World,

originally aired July 19, 1945, where a couple plans to use

Perrault to provide them a perfect alibi. So sit back and relax, and I hope you enjoy

this nostalgic mystery radio. Thank you for listening.

Time and the little gray cells.

These will always catch the criminal.

Agatha Christie's Poirot!

From the thrill-packed pages of Agatha Christie's unforgettable stories of corpses, clues, and crime,

Mutual now brings you, complete with Bowler Hat and magnificent mustache,

your favorite detective, Hercule Poirot, starring Harold Huber in The Deadest Man in the World. Music Mr. Perl.

Oh, thank heaven.

You're in.

I was afraid that...

Please, please close the door quickly.

That's better.

Thank you. He may have followed me if he knows that I came to you. Mademoiselle, you have the advantage of me. You know my name. I do not know yours. But no matter. You seem to be in trouble. I have found that a cup of tea... Oh, no, no, I mustn't stay. We have in time... Mademoiselle... Sheppard.

Sheppel.

Mademoiselle Sheppard, what you have said is intriguing, but confusing.

If you... Oh, no, no, I mustn't stay. We haven't time. Mademoiselle... Shepard. Shepard.

Mademoiselle Shepard, what you have said is intriguing, but confusing. If you want my health... I'm sorry. I haven't made anything clear, have I? You see, Derek killed my daughter. Mademoiselle, are you asking me to investigate the death of a dog? Oh, no, no, you don't understand. I know I'm telling this badly, but... Perhaps it is my fault, mademoiselle, for being impatient and hastening to conclusions, eh? You see, I live at Manitin. You've probably never heard of it. A small suburb of New York, about 37 minutes by train from the Long Island Station. Oh, you know it then? No, no, a small hobby of mine. I read timetables. Oh, well, I live there with my Uncle James. Pardon, mademoiselle. But if my memory does not betray me, James Shepherd is a famous name. Is he not called... The luckiest man in the world? Yes, that's Uncle James. I have often asked myself if the newspapers were not wrong to call him lucky. I myself would have them change it to the shrewdest man in the world. What makes you say that? A simple deduction. Any man who wins the grand prize in the Dublin sweep takes 40 years ago, takes all his winnings and boldly breaks the bank at Montcallo, and then, mademoiselle, and then has never gambled since.

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