The Murder on the Links

For whom will a woman lie? Sometimes for herself, usually for the man she loves, always for her children

You cannot have a murder without a motive.

gilded with the brush of Romance.

mall passage branched off.

“The servants’ quarters,” explained Bex.

that he was going to apostrophize it, to declare aloud his de‍

his unexpected return: ‘It does not matter—now.’

“I see,” I said slowly, as the meaning of Poirot’s remarks bore in upon me. “That letter was written to Jack Renauld—not to his father. He caught up the wrong overcoat in his haste and agitation.”

was a woman’s long black hair—similar to the one Poirot had taken from the armchair in the library.

great criminal is simple—but very few criminals are great. In trying to cover up their tracks, they invariably betray themselves. Ah, mon ami,

secondly, that there must be some vital reason for the postponement of the time.”