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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Agatha Christie

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Again she nodded. It was a strange thought to come to me at the moment, but it shot into my mind that I was glad her motive was what it had been—rather than the idle and morbid curiosity I had accused her of at the time. How gallantly she had played her part that day, inwardly racked with fear and trepidation as she must have been. Poor little soul, bearing the burden of a moment’s impetuous action.

 

“Mrs. Renauld did not confirm his view,” I argued.

 

“I fancy Browning was referring to something more romantic than sea sickness, though.”

 

“Blackmail,” repeated Stonor. “The old man was being bled—and at a good rate too. Four thousand in a couple of months. Whew! I told you just now there was a mystery about Renauld. Evidently this Madame Daubreuil knew enough of it to put the screws on.”

 

“Later in the day? Fiddlesticks! This man has been dead at least forty-eight hours, and probably longer.”

 

“Hersheimmer,” repeated Kramenin thoughtfully. “I have heard that name before.”

 

Tommy’s heart beat sensibly faster as they followed the doctor upstairs. Jane Finn at last! The long-sought, the mysterious, the elusive Jane Finn! How wildly improbable success had seemed! And here in this house, her memory almost miraculously restored, lay the girl who held the future of England in her hands. A half groan broke from Tommy’s lips. If only Tuppence could have been at his side to share in the triumphant conclusion of their joint venture! Then he put the thought of Tuppence resolutely aside. His confidence in Sir James was growing. There was a man who would unerringly ferret out Tuppence’s whereabouts. In the meantime Jane Finn! And suddenly a dread clutched at his heart. It seemed too easy.... Suppose they should find her dead ... stricken down by the hand of Mr. Brown?

 

“You see,” she explained to Jane, “if they think we’re going to Sir James, this will put them off the scent. Now they’ll imagine we’re going to Mr. Carter. His country place is north of London somewhere.”

 

The man on the steps uttered an oath. His hand went to his pocket. There was a flash and a report. The bullet just missed the taller girl by an inch.

 

Mr. Carter handed it over. It was written in a sprawling boyish hand.

 

“Not one of your successes, in fact?” I said nastily.

 

“Wise girl. You’ve made a clean breast of the thing. And let me tell you I should soon have caught you out if you hadn’t. A lot of people wouldn’t believe your story, anyway, especially the beginning part, but I do. You’re the kind of girl who would start off like that—at a moment’s notice, on the slenderest of motives. You’ve had amazing luck, of course, but sooner or later the amateur runs up against the professional and then the result is a foregone conclusion. I am the professional. I started on this business when I was quite a youngster. All things considered, it seemed to me a good way of getting rich quickly. I always could think things out, and devise ingenious schemes—and I never made the mistake of trying to carry out my schemes myself. Always employ the expert—that has been my motto. The one time I departed from it I came to grief—but I couldn’t trust any one to do that job for me. Nadina knew too much. I’m an easy-going man, kind-hearted and good tempered so long as I’m not thwarted. Nadina both thwarted me and threatened me—just as I was at the apex of a successful career. Once she was dead and the diamonds were in my possession, I was safe. I’ve come to the conclusion now that I bungled the job. That idiot Pagett, with his wife and family! My fault—it tickled my sense of humour to employ the fellow, with his Cinquecento poisoner’s face and his mid-Victorian soul. A maxim for you, my dear Anne. Don’t let your sense of humour carry you away. For years I’ve had an instinct that it would be wise to get rid of Pagett, but the fellow was so hard-working and conscientious that I honestly couldn’t find an excuse for sacking him. So I left things drift.

 

“Only trying to push me overboard,” I replied nonchalantly.

 

“I had no idea you were in Jo’burg,” I said chattily. “When did you arrive?”

 

“I think you would be wise to alter your tone, young lady.”

 

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