Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter V. “It Isn’t Strychnine, Is It?”
Itisunparalleledforthemaldetête.”Hejumpedupandtookhercup.
“Nosugar,”saidCynthia,watchinghim,ashepickedupthesugar-tongs.
“Nosugar?Youabandonitinthewar-time,eh?”
“No,Inevertakeitincoffee.”
“Sacré!”murmuredPoirottohimself,ashebroughtbackthereplenishedcup.
OnlyIheardhim,andglancingupcuriouslyatthelittlemanIsawthathisfacewasworkingwithsuppressedexcitement,andhiseyeswereasgreenasacat’s.Hehadheardorseensomethingthathadaffectedhimstrongly—butwhatwasit?Idonotusuallylabelmyselfasdense,butImustconfessthatnothingoutoftheordinaryhadattractedmyattention.
Inanothermoment,thedooropenedandDorcasappeared.
“Mr.Wellstoseeyou,sir,”shesaidtoJohn.
IrememberedthenameasbeingthatofthelawyertowhomMrs.Inglethorphadwrittenthenightbefore.
Johnroseimmediately.
“Showhimintomystudy.”Thenheturnedtous.“Mymother’slawyer,”heexplained.Andinalowervoice:“HeisalsoCoroner—youunderstand.Perhapsyouwouldliketocomewithme?”
Weacquiescedandfollowedhimoutoftheroom.JohnstrodeonaheadandItooktheopportunityofwhisperingtoPoirot:
“Therewillbeaninquestthen?”
Poirotnoddedabsently.Heseemedabsorbedinthought;somuchsothatmycuriositywasaroused.
“Whatisit?YouarenotattendingtowhatIsay.”
“Itistrue,myfriend.Iammuchworried.”
“Why?”
“BecauseMademoiselleCynthiadoesnottakesugarinhercoffee.
