“You can tell a lot about a person based on their shoes. It’s true.”
“What can you tell about me from my shoes?”
“Let me see them.”

The foreign man hissed like the lowest note on an oboe, as a column of golden light engulfed him, and shined through him as it does through a stained-glass picture of Saint George.

“Where are you going, Lou?”
“To stop a killer,” I yelled back over my shoulder.

The next day at breakfast she asked him again what he’d been doing going out for walks at midnight. He said, “Can’t a man have a few secrets?”

“That is precisely why I have gathered you all here, Captain Pendleton! I intend to prove that my friend Sir Humphrey could not possibly have committed the crime!”