The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie

POIROT'S abrupt departure had intrigued us all greatly. Sunday morning wore away, and still he did not reappear. But about three o'clock a ferocious and prolonged hooting outside drove us to the window, to see Poirot alighting from a car, accompanied by Japp and Summerhaye. The little man was transformed. He radiated an absurd complacency. He bowed with exaggerated respect to Mary Cavendish.

-"Madame, I have your permission to hold a little _réunion_ in the _salon_? It is necessary for every one to attend."