“-Y-yes, mysterious cases!..-Raymond West released a cloud of smoke from his mouth and, admiring it, slowly repeated with pleasure: “Mysterious cases... With a feeling of fulfilled duty, he looked around. Wide black beams crossing the ceiling of the room and good antique furniture created an antique atmosphere. All this suited Raymond West's tastes. He was a writer. He always considered the house of his aunt Jane Marple a worthy frame for his own person. He looked towards the fireplace, near which the mistress of the house was sitting in a large armchair. She wore a black moire dress with many pleats at the waist. Brabant lace cascaded from her chest. On her hands are black lace mittens. The black hat emphasized the snow-white hair. She was knitting something white, soft, fluffy. Her faded blue eyes, gentle and kind, studied her nephew and his guests...”