Kosár
The man rushed out of the house muttering with a kind of dreadful repetition. 'My God! My God! My God!'
His face was white and twisted, he staggered like a drunken man. Tuppence drew her finger absently across the gatepost. 'He must have put his hand across some wet red paint somewhere, she said idly.
But when Tommy and Tuppence went upstairs, they found a motionless figure in black and ermine stretched on the sofa. The beautiful face was untouched. The wound was on the side of the head. A heavy blow had crushed in the skull; blood dripped slowly on to the floor - but the wound itself had long ceased to bleed...
