One of the oddest things in life, as we all know, is the way that when you have heard a thing mentioned, within twenty-four hours you nearly always come across it again.

Downstairs in the lounge, by the third pillar from the left, there sits an old lady with a sweet, placid, spinsterish face and a mind that has plumbed the depths of human iniquity and taken it all as in the day's work....where crime is concerned, she's the goods.

If you place your head in a lion's mouth, then you cannot complain one day if he happens to bite it off.

Then there are some minor points that strike me as suggestive - for instance, the position of Mrs. Hubbard's sponge bag, the name of Mrs. Armstrong's mother, the detective methods of Mr. Hardman, the suggestion of Mr. MacQueen that Ratchett himself destroyed the charred note we found, Princess Dragomiroff's Christian name, and a grease spot on a Hungarian passport.

Any coincidencce is worth noticing. You can throw it away later if it is only a coincidence.

Any woman can fool a man if she wants to and if he's in love with her.

Do you know my friend that each one of us is a dark mystery, a maze of conflicting passions and desire and aptitudes?