Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter IX. Dr. Bauerstein
Why?”
Poirotshruggedhisshoulders.
“Iwondered.Thatisall.Willyoucomein?”
Wehadreachedthecottage.
“No.IthinkI’llbegettingback.Ishallgoroundthelongwaythroughthewoods.”
ThewoodsroundStyleswereverybeautiful.Afterthewalkacrosstheopenpark,itwaspleasanttosaunterlazilythroughthecoolglades.Therewashardlyabreathofwind,theverychirpofthebirdswasfaintandsubdued.Istrolledonalittleway,andfinallyflungmyselfdownatthefootofagrandoldbeech-tree.Mythoughtsofmankindwerekindlyandcharitable.IevenforgavePoirotforhisabsurdsecrecy.Infact,Iwasatpeacewiththeworld.ThenIyawned.
Ithoughtaboutthecrime,anditstruckmeasbeingveryunrealandfaroff.
Iyawnedagain.
Probably,Ithought,itreallyneverhappened.Ofcourse,itwasallabaddream.ThetruthofthematterwasthatitwasLawrencewhohadmurderedAlfredInglethorpwithacroquetmallet.ButitwasabsurdofJohntomakesuchafussaboutit,andtogoshoutingout:“ItellyouIwon’thaveit!”
Iwokeupwithastart.
AtonceIrealizedthatIwasinaveryawkwardpredicament.For,abouttwelvefeetawayfromme,JohnandMaryCavendishwerestandingfacingeachother,andtheywereevidentlyquarrelling.And,quiteasevidently,theywereunawareofmyvicinity,forbeforeIcouldmoveorspeakJohnrepeatedthewordswhichhadarousedmefrommydream.
“Itellyou,Mary,Iwon’thaveit.
