“I've heard that you're the cat's whiskers, M. Poirot.""Comment? The cat's whiskers? I do not understand.""Well that you're It.""Madame, I may or may not have brains - as a matter of fact I have - why pretend?”

“You're a man milliner, Poirot. I never notice what people have on.""You should join a nudist colony”

“You've a pretty good nerve," said Ratchett. "Will twenty thousand dollars tempt you?"It will not."If you're holding out for more, you won't get it. I know what a thing's worth to me."I, also M. Ratchett."What's wrong with my proposition?"Poirot rose. "If you will forgive me for being personal - I do not like your face, M. Ratchett," he said.”

“What's wrong with my proposition?" Poirot rose. "If you will forgive me for being personal-I do not like your face, M. Ratchett.”

“Poirot was standing in the larder in a dramtic attitude. In his hand he was brandishing a leg of mutton.'My dear Poirot! What is the matter? have you gone mad?''Regard i pray you this mutton! But regard it closely!”

“Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking.""An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it.”

“So you think that the coco- mark well what I say, Hastings, the coco- contained strychnine?" "Of course! That salt on the tray, what else could it have been?" "It might have been salt." replied Poirot placidly.”