He has charm but is overshadowed by Christow's dominant personality. He lives in the past and has been devoted to Henrietta for many years. He despises himself, thinking he is good for nothing. Lucy, Lady Angkatell, Henry's wife, whose sociable, charismatic veneer hides a dark side to her personality, occasionally glimpsed by her family. Midge Hardcastle, Lucy's young cousin. Related to the Angkatell family through her mother, she refuses financial aid from them and works in a dressmaker's shop. David Angkatell, a student. Bookish, anti-social, and possessor of "modern" ideas regarding the working class. He tries to express an air of superiority. Henrietta Savernake, a sculptor, and cousin of Sir Henry, Lucy, Midge, Edward and David. She always knows the right words to say to make someone feel comfortable, albeit sometimes at the expense of the truth. Her art is the core of her being, which, at times, conflicts with her second important characteristic. Veronica Cray, an actress. She is very beautiful and abnormally egotistical. She wanted Christow to abandon everything to follow her to Hollywood, but he rejected her; she found this unbearable. However, Christow is still attracted to her and, it is implied, had a one-night stand with her, which triggered Gerda's jealousy. Gudgeon, the butler; he is very protective of Lady Angkatell. Doris, the house maid Beryl Collins, John's secretary. Mrs Crabtree, a patient of John's, a victim of Ridgeway's Disease. Terence, John and Gerda's twelve-year-old son; perceptive, observant, analytical, curious and lonely. Zena, John and Gerda's nine-year-old daughter. Literary significance and reception Maurice Richardson, in the 1 December 1946 issue of The Observer, wrote: "Agatha Christie has staged, against her smartest, most hyperemotional background so far, the shooting of a philandering doctor. Solution by a rather subdued Poirot. Good double-bluff surprise." Robert Barnard: "Notable specimen, with more complex characterization than usual, and occasionally rising to wit (especially on the subject of cooking). Illustrates vividly one dilemma of the detective writer: if you establish characters of some psychological complexity, how do you prevent the routine detection stuff coming as an anticlimax? Christie records that her daughter protested against her decision to dramatize the book, and the instinct was probably right: most of the interest here, unusually, is internal, and difficult to present via Christie's rather old-fashioned stage techniques. Definitely among the top ten, in spite of the falling-off in the second half." Modern French novelist Michel Houellebecq,