Hercule Poirot is called in to investigate the theft of a secret formula for an atom bomb, but when he arrives at the country manor, he finds that the famous scientist who called him has been poisoned.

I liked the mystery and the characters, but this definitely reads like a novelization of a play. The writing does not have that Christie flavor. It almost feels like a fanfiction.

The actual plot is beautifully intricate and interesting. I loved the dynamic personalities of the characters. Poirot himself is absolute perfection, with his little gray cells and his kind heart.

Everything that was actually written by Christie is excellent, but the descriptions and basically anything that isn't dialogue feels like cardboard. It doesn't sing. It doesn't flow. It doesn't draw the reader into the scene.

I think I would have enjoyed this a lot more if I had just read the play.