Postern of Fate (Tommy & Tuppence Mysteries, #5)

by Agatha Christie

“All right. Want to go for a walk, Hannibal?” Hannibal, as was his habit, immediately replied in the affirmative. His affirmatives and his negatives were always quite impossible to miss. He wriggled his body, wagged his tail, raised one paw, put it down again and came and rubbed his head hard against Tommy’s leg. “That’s right,” he obviously said, “that’s what you exist for, my dear slave. We’re going out for a lovely walk down the street. Lots of smells, I hope.”

The main disadvantage of Mr. Bodlicott’s attentions was his garrulous habit of incessant conversation slightly hampered by a difficulty in adjusting his false teeth in such a way as to make what he said intelligible in his pronunciation.

And do you know what that old lady used to do? Her son had taught her to shoot. She’d sit by her drawing room window looking out and when people came up the drive she’d have her revolver with her and she’d shoot either side of them. Yes. Got them frightened to death and they ran away. She said she wouldn’t have anyone coming in and disturbing the birds.