The Murder on the Links (Hercule Poirot, #2)

by Agatha Christie

“The true work, it is done from within. The little grey cells— remember always the little grey cells, mon ami.”

“Man is a vain animal. Monsieur Renauld figured to himself, without doubt, that his widow would never marry again. As to the son, it may have been a wise precaution to leave the money in his mother’s hands. The sons of rich men are proverbially wild.”

“He wore his overcoat very long,” he said constrainedly.

“Pardon, madame, but may I examine your wrists?”

“They must cause you great pain,” he said, and once more he looked puzzled.

“I am an imbecile, my friend! If ever there was love and grief in a woman’s voice, I heard it then. My little idea was all wrong. Eh bien! I must start again!”

“I do not agree with you. I have a little idea that these footprints are the most important things we have seen yet.”

“Mon ami, a clue of two feet long is every bit as valuable as one measuring two millimetres! But it is the romantic idea that all important clues must be infinitesimal.

You may know all about cigarettes and match ends, Monsieur Giraud, but I, Hercule Poirot, know the mind of man.”

it was imperative that the crime should seem to have taken place later than it actually did. You

“Money is not the only motive for murder,” I objected. “True,” agreed Poirot placidly. “There are two others, the crime passionnel is one. And there is the third rare motive, murder for an idea, which implies some form of mental derangement on the part of the murderer. Homicidal mania and religious fanaticism belong to that class. We can rule it out here.”

Yes, Monsieur Renauld planned his own death, but there is one detail that perhaps escapes you—he did not intend to die.”

had learned, with Poirot, that the less dangerous he looked, the more dangerous he was.