Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter V. “It Isn’t Strychnine, Is It?”
”
“You’vegotthekeysstill,haven’tyou,Poirot?”Iasked,aswereachedthedoorofthelockedroom.
TakingthekeysfromPoirot,Johnunlockedit,andweallpassedin.Thelawyerwentstraighttothedesk,andJohnfollowedhim.
“Mymotherkeptmostofherimportantpapersinthisdespatch-case,Ibelieve,”hesaid.
Poirotdrewoutthesmallbunchofkeys.
“Permitme.Ilockedit,outofprecaution,thismorning.”
“Butit’snotlockednow.”
“Impossible!”
“See.”AndJohnliftedthelidashespoke.
“Millestonnerres!”criedPoirot,dumbfounded.“AndI—whohaveboththekeysinmypocket!”Heflunghimselfuponthecase.Suddenlyhestiffened.“Ehvoilàuneaffaire!Thislockhasbeenforced.”
“What?”
Poirotlaiddownthecaseagain.
“Butwhoforcedit?Whyshouldthey?When?Butthedoorwaslocked?”Theseexclamationsburstfromusdisjointedly.
Poirotansweredthemcategorically—almostmechanically.
“Who?Thatisthequestion.Why?Ah,ifIonlyknew.When?SinceIwashereanhourago.Astothedoorbeinglocked,itisaveryordinarylock.Probablyanyotherofthedoorkeysinthispassagewouldfitit.”
Westaredatoneanotherblankly.Poirothadwalkedovertothemantelpiece.Hewasoutwardlycalm,butInoticedhishands,whichfromlongforceofhabitweremechanicallystraighteningthespillvasesonthemantelpiece,wereshakingviolently.
“Seehere,itwaslikethis,”hesaidatlast.
