Quotes About Intrigue

What a poisonous woman! Whew! Why didn't somebody murder her!" "It may yet happen," Poirot consoled him.

I neither see nor comprehend. You make all these confounded mysteries, and it's useless asking you to explain. You always like keeping something up your sleeve to the last minute.

mrs. McGinty's dead..how did she die? down on one knee..just like I mrs. McGinty's dead..how did she die? holding her hand out..just like I mrs. McGinty's dead.. how did she die? sticking her neck out..just like I

Clotilde, Miss Marple thought, was certainly no Ophelia, but she would have made a magnificent Clytemnestra---she could have stabbed a husband in his bath with exultation. But since she had never had a husband, that solution wouldn't do. Miss Marple could not see her murdering anyone else but a husband---and there had been no Agamemnon in this house.

Does a man who commits suicide stab himself in ten—twelve—fifteen places?" he asked. Poirot's eyes opened. "That is great ferocity," he said. "It is a woman," said the chef de train, speaking for the first time. "Depend upon it, it was a woman. Only a woman would stab like that.

Just look, Letty." Miss Blacklock looked. Her eyebrows went up. She threw a quick scrutinizing glance round the table. Then she read the advertisement out loud. "A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6:30 p.m. Friends please accept this, the only intimation.

Do you mean to tell me, Superintendent, that this is one of those damned cases you get in detective stories where a man is killed in a locked room by some apparently supernatural agency.

Murder develops. Yes, like a photograph, isn't it?

an air of infinite reluctance M. Poirot climbed aboard the train. The conductor climbed after him.

You won't tell anyone, will you?' began Emily, knowing well that of all openings on earth this one is the most certain to provoke interest and sympathy.

the more we learn, the less and less motive we find for suicide? But for murder, we begin to have a surprising collection of motives!

Poirot said "you will find,M.le docteur,if you have much to do with cases of this kind,that they all resemble each other in one thing." "what is that?" I asked curiously "everyone concerned in them has something to hide

Just exactly what's up on this train? It seems bughouse to me.

It's so difficult, isn't it, to get to know people when there is a murder? And quite impossible to have any really intellectual conversation.

Why, he's Hercule Poirot! You know who I mean—the private detective. They say he's done the most wonderful things—just like detectives do in books.

Mary Jordan did not die naturally. It was one of us, I think I know which one.

I think somebody deliberately wanted to frighten her.

Wherever there is human nature, there is drama. But — it is not always just where you think it is. Remember that.

I don't like anyone who comes and dies in my house on purpose to annoy me," said Lord Caterham obstinately.

But how can any one be in there? There's no door except into this room. Your memory is excellent, Hastings. Now for the deductions.

Breakfast with the Borgias.

He went out of the compartment and returned a few moments later with a small spirit stove and a pair of curling tongs. "I use them for the moustaches," he said, referring to the latter.

Belgian stranger—all

white moustache trembling