staring headlines:

"MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY IN ESSEX"

"WEALTHY LADY POISONED"

There would be pictures of Styles, snap-shots of "The family
leaving the Inquest"--the village photographer had not been idle!
All the things that one had read a hundred times--things that
happen to other people, not to oneself. And now, in this house,
a murder had been committed. In front of us were "the detectives
in charge of the case." The well-known glib phraseology passed
rapidly through my mind in the interval before Poirot opened the
proceedings.

I think every one was a little surprised that it should be he and
not one of the official detectives who took the initiative.

"Mesdames and messieurs," said Poirot, bowing as though he were a
celebrity about to deliver a lecture, "I have asked you to come
here all together, for a certain object. That object, it
concerns Mr. Alfred Inglethorp."

Inglethorp was sitting a little by himself--I think,
unconsciously, every one had drawn his chair slightly away from
him--and he gave a faint start as Poirot pronounced his name.

"Mr. Inglethorp," said Poirot, addressing him directly, "a very
dark shadow is resting on this house--the shadow of murder."