Where do one's fears come from? Where do they shape themselves? Where do they hide before coming out into the open? - Agatha Christie

"Poirot's eyes opened. "That is great ferocity," he said.

"It is a woman," said the chef de train, speaking for the first time. "Depend upon it, it was a woman. Only a woman would stab like that."

Dr. Constantine screwed up his face thoughtfully. "She must have been a very strong woman," he said. "It is not my desire to speak technically-that is only confusing; but I can assure you that two of the blows were delivered with such forces as to drive them through hard belts of bone and muscle."

"It was clearly not a scientific crime," said Poirot.

"It was most unscientific," returned Dr. Constantine.

"The blows seem to have been delivered haphazard and at random. Some have glanced off, doing hardly any damage. It is as though somebody had shut his eyes and then in a frenzy struck blindly again and again."

"C'est une femme," said the chef de train again. "Women are like that. When they are enraged they have great strength." He nodded so sagely that everyone suspected a personal experience of his own."

How convenient if you could ring up Harrods and say ‘Please send along two good murderers, will you?’

He could have shot her from behind a hedge in the good old Irish fashion and probably got away with it.