I Have Often Had Occasion To Notice

In The Midst Of Life, We Are In Death.

I Have Always Admired The Esquimaux (eskimos). One Fine Day A Delicious Meal Is Cooked For Dear Old Mother, And Then She Goes Walking Away Over The Ice, And Doesn't Come Back.

Curious Things, Habits. People Themselves Never Knew They Had Them. [witness For The Prosecution, Also Published In The Hound Of Death And Other Stories.]

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.

The Human Face Is, After All, Nothing More Nor Less Than A Mask.