I
Old Lanscombe moved totteringly from room to room, pulling up the blinds. Now and then he peered with screwed-up rheumy eyes through the windows.
Showing posts with label After the Funeral. Show all posts
Showing posts with label After the Funeral. Show all posts
Monday, November 17, 2014
Chapter Two
Posted by Unknown on 9:21 PM
After the delicious chicken soup, and plenty of cold viands accompanied by an excellent Chablis, the funeral atmosphere lightened.
Chapter Three
Posted by Unknown on 9:21 PM
I
Travelling to London in the corner of a first-class carriage Mr. Entwhistle gave himself up to somewhat uneasy thought over that extraordinary remark made by Cora Lansquenet.
Chapter Four
Posted by Unknown on 9:20 PM
I
Mr. Entwhistle passed a very restless night. He felt so tired and so unwell in the morning that he did not get up.
His sister, who kept house for him, brought up his breakfast on a tray and explained to him severely how wrong he had been to go gadding off to the North of England at his age and in his frail state of health.
Chapter Five
Posted by Unknown on 9:19 PM
I
“Worn out, that’s what you are,” said Miss Entwhistle in the indignant and bullying tones adopted by devoted sisters towards brothers for whom they keep house. “You shouldn’t do it, at your age. What’s it all got to do with you, I’d like to know? You’ve retired, haven’t you?”
Chapter Six
Posted by Unknown on 9:18 PM
I
“Very good of you to come along,” said Maude gruffly, as she greeted Mr. Entwhistle on the platform of Bayham Compton station. “I can assure you that both Timothy and I much appreciate it. Of course the truth is that Richard’s death was the worst thing possible for Timothy.”
Chapter Seven
Posted by Unknown on 9:17 PM
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your invitation.”
Mr. Entwhistle pressed his host’s hand warmly.
Hercule Poirot gestured hospitably to a chair by the fire.
Mr. Entwhistle sighed as he sat down.
On one side of the room a table was laid for two.
Chapter Eight
Posted by Unknown on 9:16 PM
I
Mr. Entwhistle looked at Dr. Larraby thoughtfully.
He had had a lifetime of experience in summing people up. There had been frequent occasions on which it had been necessary to tackle a difficult situation or a delicate subject.
Chapter Nine
Posted by Unknown on 9:15 PM
Miss Gilchrist pulled her black hat down firmly on her head and tucked in a wisp of grey hair. The inquest was set for twelve o’clock and it was not quite twenty past eleven.
Chapter Ten
Posted by Unknown on 9:14 PM
Susan retrieved the car from the quarry where she had left it and drove it into the village. There was a petrol pump but no garage and she was advised to take it to the King’s Arms.
Chapter Eleven
Posted by Unknown on 9:14 PM
I
Susan lay in bed and waited for sleep to come. It had been a long day and she was tired. She had been quite sure that she would go to sleep at once. She never had any difficulty in going to sleep. And yet here she lay, hour after hour, wide awake, her mind racing.
Chapter Twelve
Posted by Unknown on 9:13 PM
Two elderly men sat together in a room whose furnishings were of the most modern kind. There were no curves in the room. Everything was square. Almost the only exception was Hercule Poirot himself who was full of curves.
Chapter Thirteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:47 PM
When the card of Inspector Morton of the Berkshire County Police was brought to Hercule Poirot, his eyebrows went up.
“Show him in, Georges, show him in. And bring—what is it that the police prefer?”
Chapter Fourteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:46 PM
Hercule Poirot said to a grim-faced Janet:
“Thank you very much. You have been most kind.”
Janet, her lips still fixed in a sour line, left the room. These foreigners! The questions they asked. Their impertinence!
Chapter Fifteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:45 PM
I
“That linoleum does look nice, Mrs. Jones. What a hand you have with lino. The teapot’s on the kitchen table, so go and help yourself. I’ll be there as soon as I’ve taken up Mr. Abernethie’s elevenses.”
Chapter Sixteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:44 PM
George Crossfield paused irresolutely for a moment as he watched a particular feminine back disappear through a doorway. Then he nodded to himself and went in pursuit.
Chapter Seventeen
Posted by Unknown on 8:43 PM
Michael tossed the letter across the table to Rosamund.
“What about it?”
“Oh, we’ll go. Don’t you think so?”
Michael said slowly:
“It might be as well.”
Chapter Eighteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:42 PM
From his seat by the fireplace in the library, Hercule Poirot looked at the assembled company.
Chapter Nineteen
Posted by Unknown on 8:41 PM
The family had all been polite to M. Pontarlier, the representative of U.N.A.R.C.O. And how right he had been to have chosen to designate himself by initials. Everyone had accepted U.N.A.R.C.O. as a matter of course—had even pretended to know all about it!
Chapter Twenty
Posted by Unknown on 8:40 PM
I
There was a moment of extraordinary tenseness. Poirot felt it, though he himself did not remove his eyes from Rosamund’s lovely placid face.
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Chapter One