I strode in.
Now take out that photograph and look at it.
Nine grains of morphia! why, half the amount might.
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Then he went out again.
Reading my thoughts, he smiled and gently shook his head
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Then poirot broke out.
Slowly, with shaking hands, and rage and hate convulsing her face, she bent down and did his bidding.
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Haynes has shot a mexican.
Had he been the murderer, he would have been able to retain his impassive face perfectly.
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Once john tom asked him something about his papa.
I have nothing to say on the question, sir; nothing to say to you.
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Poirot tore it open, then handed it to me.