Agatha Christie

inclined to underestimate my mental capacities. But his pleasure was so evident

It was really this last named trait of hers which was causing me these pangs of indecision.

pretty mare’s nest you’ve got us into this time,” Japp was saying. “It’s too bad of you, M. Poirot. …

but as game as they make them.”

It is odd to find oneself, after a lapse of twenty-five years, back doing the same job.

hammering on a door. Dora Bunner, who had been sobbing

The thing that was different and that ought not to be different was herself…

which turns out to be a common or garden chilblain

parchment. Picking up a pen she dipped it in the inkstand

he remarked disparagingly, indicating the disembarking passengers