Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter V. “It Isn’t Strychnine, Is It?”
IcouldhearPoirotshoutingandexpounding.Iwasvexedtothinkthatmydiplomacyhadbeeninvain.Thelittlemanappearedtobetakingthewholehouseintohisconfidence,aproceedingofwhichI,forone,doubtedthewisdom.OnceagainIcouldnothelpregrettingthatmyfriendwassopronetolosehisheadinmomentsofexcitement.Isteppedbrisklydownthestairs.ThesightofmecalmedPoirotalmostimmediately.Idrewhimaside.
“Mydearfellow,”Isaid,“isthiswise?Surelyyoudon’twantthewholehousetoknowofthisoccurrence?Youareactuallyplayingintothecriminal’shands.”
“Youthinkso,Hastings?”
“Iamsureofit.”
“Well,well,myfriend,Iwillbeguidedbyyou.”
“Good.Although,unfortunately,itisalittletoolatenow.”
“Sure.”
HelookedsocrestfallenandabashedthatIfeltquitesorry,thoughIstillthoughtmyrebukeajustandwiseone.
“Well,”hesaidatlast,“letusgo,monami.”
“Youhavefinishedhere?”
“Forthemoment,yes.Youwillwalkbackwithmetothevillage?”
“Willingly.”
Hepickeduphislittlesuit-case,andwewentoutthroughtheopenwindowinthedrawing-room.CynthiaMurdochwasjustcomingin,andPoirotstoodasidetoletherpass.
“Excuseme,mademoiselle,oneminute.”
“Yes?”sheturnedinquiringly.
“DidyouevermakeupMrs.Inglethorp’smedicines?”
Aslightflushroseinherface,assheansweredratherconstrainedly:
“No.
