One, Two, Buckle My Shoe
It was like a kaleidoscope – shoe buckles, 10-inch stockings, a damaged face, the low tastes in literature of Alfred the page-boy, the activities of Mr Amberiotis, and the part played by the late Mr Morley, all rose up and whirled and settled themselves down into a coherent pattern. For the first time, Hercule Poirot was looking at the case the right way up.
