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nimbly whipping out a pair of small forceps from his case, he drew out some
minute particle
the coffee cup is absolutely smashed to powder.”
“Someone stepped on it.”
“She missed it yesterday at lunchtime, sir, and told me to look carefully for it. She was very much put out about it.” “But
Why was the key on the sons set?
A wild idea flashed across me. Was it possible that Mrs. Inglethorp’s mind was deranged? Had she some fantastic idea of demoniacal possession? And, if that were so, was it not also possible that she might have taken her own life?
Cyanide or arsenic
took her cup. “No sugar,” said Cynthia, watching him, as he picked up the sugar tongs. “No sugar? You abandon it in the wartime, eh?” “No, I never take it in coffee.”
“Ah, I am glad she has come. There is a woman with a head and a heart too, Hastings. Though the good God gave her no beauty!”
Poirot what the fuck
“Real evidence is usually vague and unsatisfactory. It has to be examined—sifted.
