It was also the station of what seemed to be about a hundred and fifty other people, since it happened to be Piccadilly Circus. Like a great tidal wave they flowed out on to the platform. Presently Poirot was again jammed tightly on an escalator being carried upwards towards the surface of the earth. Up, thought Poirot, from the Infernal Regions…How exquisitely painful was a suitcase rammed into one’s knees from behind on an ascending escalator!
Ooh didn't see that coming. London Underground is the Underworld.
