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163 stories from 11 authors
I should say I did remember that Epiphany supper during the war! exclaimed Count de Garens, an army captain.
It was one of those chilly and empty afternoons in early winter, when the daylight is silver rather than gold and pewter rather than silver.
The cars came scudding in towards Dublin, running evenly like pellets in the groove of the Naas Road.
So far, in the cases which I have recorded, Poirot’s investigations have started from the central fact, whether murder or robbery, and have proceeded from thence by a process of logical deduction to the final triumphant unravelling.
“After all,” murmured Poirot, “it is possible that I shall not die this time.” Coming from a convalescent influenza patient, I hailed the remark as showing a beneficial optimism.
There was not a sound in the forest save the indistinct, fluttering sound of the snow falling on the trees.