‘She was staring, you know, over Mrs Badcock’s shoulder and when Mrs Badcock had
finished her rather silly story of how she got out of a bed of sickness and sneaked out of the house to go and meet Marina and get her autograph, there was a sort of odd silence. Then I saw her face.’
‘Whose face? Mrs Badcock’s?’
‘No. Marina Gregg’s. It was as though she hadn’t heard a word the Badcock woman was saying. She was staring over her shoulder right at the wall opposite. Staring with – I can’t
explain it to you-‘
The mirror cracked from side to side, by Agatha Christie
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