Postern of Fate. Агата Кристи
it was, as old Joe didn’t get cut. Might have ripped his face open.’
‘Yes, it might indeed.’
‘There’s a bit more glass wants sweeping up on the floor still, missus.’
‘I know,’ said Tuppence, ‘we haven’t had time yet.’
‘Ah, but you can’t take risks with glass. You know what glass is. A little splinter can do you all the harm in the world. Die of it, you can, if it gets into a blood vessel. I remember Miss Lavinia Shotacomb. You wouldn’t believe…’
Tuppence was not tempted by Miss Lavinia Shotacomb. She had heard her mentioned by other local characters. She had apparently been between seventy and eighty, quite deaf and almost blind.
‘I suppose,’ said Tuppence, breaking in before Isaac’s reminiscences of Lavinia Shotacomb could begin, ‘that you must know a lot about all the various people and the extraordinary things that have happened in this place in the past.’
‘Aw, well, I’m not as young as I was, you know. Over eighty-five, I am. Going on ninety. I’ve always had a good memory. There are things, you know, you don’t forget. No. However long it is, something reminds you of it, you know, and brings it all back to you. The things I could tell you, you wouldn’t believe.’
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