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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Agatha Christie

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“I have no authority to go through these papers. But it should be done—at once!”

 

Of course, there was no possibility of being able permanently to conceal Dr. Bauerstein’s arrest from her. It would be announced in every newspaper on the morrow. Still, I shrank from blurting it out. If only Poirot had been accessible, I could have asked his advice. What possessed him to go posting off to London in this unaccountable way?

 

I sprang out of bed; and, pulling on a dressing-gown, followed Lawrence along the passage and the gallery to the right wing of the house.

 

“Ah! So poisons ‘naturally interest’ you, do they? Still, you waited to be alone before gratifying that ‘interest’ of yours?”

 

For the first time I felt that, with Evelyn Howard, something indefinable had gone from the atmosphere. Her presence had spelt security. Now that security was removed—and the air seemed rife with suspicion. The sinister face of Dr. Bauerstein recurred to me unpleasantly. A vague suspicion of everyone and everything filled my mind. Just for a moment I had a premonition of approaching evil.

 

“Tuesday afternoon. I went up to town early Wednesday morning, as my boat sailed from Tilbury about twelve o’clock. But some news I got made me alter my plans, as I dare say you heard me explain to Mrs. Maltravers.”

 

“Do not distress yourself—it would have been one way or another. Well, I must get on the telephone to London.”

 

“Pretty—very pretty—altogether a charming little problem,” murmured Poirot. “Proceed, my good friend.”

 

We stared at each other—the whole thing was so bizarre, so unreal.

 

“Well, there is a chance of it, anyhow,” amended Poirot. “Also, I learn that a swarthy man, a foreigner of some kind, was inquiring about the occupants of No. 4 only this morning. Therefore, mon ami, I fear that you must forswear your beauty sleep to-night, and join me in my all-night vigil in the flat below—armed with that excellent revolver of yours, bien entendu!”

 

“Well, there is this: According to Jane Mason, at Bristol, Flossie was no longer alone in her carriage. There was a man in it who stood looking out of the farther window so that she could not see his face.”

 

“I did him a little service in the past—an affair of bearer bonds. And once, when I was in Paris for a royal visit, I had Mademoiselle Flossie pointed out to me. La jolie petite pensionnaire! She had the jolie dot too! It caused trouble. She nearly made a bad affair.”

 

“I dare say. Anyway, I know as a fact that the Honorable Rupert is said to be extremely hard up.”

 

“Well sir, I thought it was to do with the gentleman in the carriage. She didn’t speak to him, but she turned round once or twice as though to ask him if she was doing right.”

 

“Yes. The Count says: ‘Before very long, and perhaps sooner than you think.’ Obviously he would not want to wait until you should get wind of his reappearance. Was it he who traveled down from London by the twelve-fourteen, and came along the corridor to your daughter’s compartment? The Count de la Rochefour is also, if I remember rightly, tall and dark!”

 

 

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