Agatha Christie

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

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

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

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

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