In one house a woman rose from her chair, where she sat reading. She, too, kissed her company, and—at the door—looked back into the cheerful room, with a smile. But once outside, her face was that of a dead woman, as she drew from her bag a bit of crumpled paper, covered with printed letters. Someone knew. The years of false security and happiness

But, remember this… Mrs. Scudamore may go to church, but she does not worship God. She worships only the opinion of the neighbours. You’ll find her out, one day.”

Mrs. Pike, recalled from her first Continental holiday, was back at Miss Corner’s house, getting things ready for the funeral, and later for the sale. Although overcome with sorrow, she was glad to be back in England, although she had only got as far as Ostend, which she disliked intensely. She never went abroad again, but she continued to judge th

“Drag a strange doctor all the way from Cheltenham?” cried his wife. “Whatever for?” “Because I don’t want Perry called in here again.” Both Mrs. Sheriff and her daughter stared at the Squire. Had Ignatius been present, he would have noticed that, while the elder woman was merely astonished, Vivian’s eyes showed fear.

She guiltily hid her cigarette behind her back, as a middle-aged couple advanced, arm-in-arm, over the cobbles. The man had a clean-shaven, long-lipped, legal face, to proclaim him a lawyer with the best County connection, together with a nose which had been in his family for centuries.

Like the most successful diplomatists of history, the Rector had discovered that a queen likes to be treated as a woman; his voice was deferential, but his eyes were more independent, as he sank by her side.

Suddenly, he remembered Mrs. Scudamore’s cancelled party, and he wondered if there was any connection between it and Major Blair’s anonymous letter. His heart hammered, and his head began to swim at a new and horrible possibility. He asked himself whether others in the village had also received poison-letters, but had kept their own secrets. As he

There was a complete stoppage of all social intercourse. He met no other casual caller in any drawing room. The village was dead, with the paralysis which follows the generation of poison. Very soon, he found that he was growing affected by the general complaint. In the middle of some friendly chat, he would suddenly remember his anonymous letter,

Although her sea-blue eyes looked demure, she was up to every move of the game, and knew exactly when to drop her prayer-book, and where to pitch it. Ignatius gave himself away completely, for he leaped instantly across the aisle, to pick it up. In order to return it, he had to stretch across Miss Mack; but she appeared unconscious of the incident,