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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Agatha Christie

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A moment later a cry rang out into the night, and the great train came to an unwilling halt in obedience to the imperative jerking of the communication-cord.

 

“Then there is nothing more to be said. I must decline the case.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” The porter, generously tipped, withdrew.

 

“No, it was half a crown!” Japp recovered his temper and grinned. “Pretty extravagant, these rich Americans!”

 

“It was not your master, Mr. Carrington, by any chance?”

 

“Yes,” I said, thinking of Harry Rayburn. He had been like that too. “But not cruel to weak things?”

 

Suzanne seemed unconvinced. An hour or two of gagging and binding would have changed her views quickly enough. Suzanne likes thrills, but she hates being uncomfortable.

 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Beddingfeld,” he said stiffly, “but I fail to see your concern in the matter.”

 

“At any rate,” I said to Pagett, “you weren’t poisoned. You had one of your ordinary bilious attacks.”

 

“If you want a thing broadcasted, tell a woman. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.”

 

“Don’t be silly. You tread on her foot, or pick up her handkerchief, or something like that. If she thinks you want to know her she’s flattered, and will manage it for you somehow.”

 

Tuppence was quick in her mental processes. All these reflections passed through her mind in a flash, and she saw where a chance, a very problematical chance, lay, and she determined to risk all in one supreme effort.

 

“Great Jehosaphat! My dear girl, don’t wave Fishers aloft like that!”

 

“That is good. An official denial from Moscow will be forthcoming if necessary.”

 

“Say,” remarked Julius suddenly, “there’s Tuppence’s bright boy. I guess I’d better go down and ease his young mind. That’s some lad, Tuppence.”

 

 

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