The Cornish Mystery
'Mrs Pengelley,' announced our landlady, and withdrew discreetly.
Many unlikely people came to consult Poirot, but to my mind, the woman who stood nervously just inside the door, fingering her feather neck-piece, was the most unlikely of all. She was so extraordinarily commonplace - a thin, faded woman of about fifty, dressed in a braided coat and skirt, some gold jewellery at her neck, and with her grey hair surmounted by a singularly unbecoming hat. In a country town, you pass a hundred Mrs Pengelleys in the street every day.
Poirot came forward and greeted her pleasantly, perceiving her obvious embarrassment.
'Madamel Take a chair, I beg of you. My colleague, Captain Hastings.'
The lady sat down, murmuring uncertainly: 'You are M. Poirot, the detective?'
'At yo
