“A prosperous, shrewd, jovial-looking man—slightly running to fat. Hercule Poirot had timed his appointment for half past six on a Saturday afternoon. Philip Blake had just finished his eighteen holes, and he had been on his game—winning a fiver from his opponent. He was in the mood to be friendly and expansive. Hercule Poirot explained himself and his errand. On this occasion at least he showed no undue passion for unsullied truth. It was a question, Blake gathered, of a series of books dealing... with famous crimes. Philip Blake frowned. He said: “Good Lord, why make up these things?” Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders. He was at his most foreign today. He was out to be despised but patronized. He murmured: “It is the public. They eat it up—yes, eat it up.” “Ghouls,” said Philip Blake. But he said it good-humouredly—not with the fastidiousness and the distaste that a more sensitive man might have displayed. Hercule Poirot said with a shrug of the shoulders: “It is human nature.MoreLessRead More Read Less
Like every Christie's , this one touched upon human emotions like none other. They call her the Queen of Crime but somehow I feel human psychology and sentiments are her forte as well!
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