Book: The mystery of the Egyptian tomb

The killer, the more successful, tries again and again to repeat the crime so cleverly came down with it.

- I thought you were implying that there are other forces at play!
- Again you misunderstand me, Hastings. I wanted to say that believe only in a dangerous and dark power of ancient superstition. See for yourself - each other suddenly suddenly more people die. The death of each of them individually is nothing mysterious. But because everybody is talking about rashawnna the spirit of the ancient Pharaoh, it is possible to quietly kill anyone in broad daylight, his death was also written off at the expense of the ancient spell - as a great power of the supernatural over ordinary human soul.

The magical allure of ancient Egypt soon took possession of me. But not Poirot. Dressed exactly-in-exactly the same as if he was in London, he constantly carried in his pocket a small clothes brush and waged an endless war with the dust that was accumulated on his suit.
- And my shoes! - he moaned. - No, look at you, Hastings! My brand new shoes from the finest leather, always look so tidy and shiny! Dear God, inside the sand that mercilessly rubs his feet, and outside, too - to look at them hurt! And this heat... this heat is unbearable! She made my mustache has turned into a real loofah... Yes, a washcloth!
- Better look at the Sphinx - advised me. Even I feel that from him emanates the charm of ancient mysteries.
Poirot angrily looked at me.
- Not really it has a happy face, ' he rumbled. - Yes, and what else to expect from the poor man, when he is almost to his ears immersed in this damn sand! Damn it!