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Practice and improve writing style. Write like Agatha Christie

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“I see. Now, I wonder if I can see Mrs. Havering?”

 

We unlatched the gate and were walking up the narrow path to the oak door when a familiar figure emerged and came to meet us.

 

“Mrs. Havering sent me to fetch the police. Five miles to walk, it was. They came back with me; and the constable, he stayed all night; and this morning the police gentleman from London arrived.”

 

“If you will excuse me a minute,” I said, struck by a sudden idea.

 

“No, I suppose it will be in the evening papers. Without doubt the police are in charge.”

 

He was interrupted by the reappearance of the chambermaid and the police searcher.

 

“We progress, Hastings,” said Poirot, rubbing his hands as the Bakers left the room. “Clearly he made a second will and then had workmen from Plymouth in to make a suitable hiding-place. Instead of wasting time taking up the floor and tapping the walls, we will go to Plymouth.”

 

“Certainly not.” The doctor became quite apoplectic. “The cause of death was clear, and in my profession we see no need to distress unduly the relatives of a dead patient.”

 

“It has not the air happy,” he declared. “How could it, half-buried in sand in that untidy fashion. Ah, this cursed sand!”

 

We did so in silence. Once there, to my intense surprise, Poirot effected a rapid change of clothing.

 

“Old man Halliday is no fool. He would tie up her money pretty tight.”

 

“‘Believe, chère madame, all the assurances of my most devoted and unaltered sentiments—

 

“Well sir, as near as I can remember, she said: ‘Mason, I’ve got to alter my plans. Something has happened—I mean, I’m not getting out here after all. I must go on. Get out the luggage and put it in the cloak-room; then have some tea, and wait for me in the station.’

 

“Ask Mr. Halliday if he will be so kind as to mount to me here,” he said over his shoulder to the footman.

 

I noticed that Poirot’s eyes had become very green.

 

 

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