Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter V. “It Isn’t Strychnine, Is It?”
Cavendishandhermother-in-law?”
“Ihadforgottenthat,”Isaidthoughtfully.“Thatisasenigmaticalasever.ItseemsincrediblethatawomanlikeMrs.Cavendish,proudandreticenttothelastdegree,shouldinterferesoviolentlyinwhatwascertainlynotheraffair.”
“Precisely.Itwasanastonishingthingforawomanofherbreedingtodo.”
“Itiscertainlycurious,”Iagreed.“Still,itisunimportant,andneednotbetakenintoaccount.”
AgroanburstfromPoirot.
“WhathaveIalwaystoldyou?Everythingmustbetakenintoaccount.Ifthefactwillnotfitthetheory—letthetheorygo.”
“Well,weshallsee,”Isaid,nettled.
“Yes,weshallsee.”
WehadreachedLeastwaysCottage,andPoirotusheredmeupstairstohisownroom.HeofferedmeoneofthetinyRussiancigaretteshehimselfoccasionallysmoked.Iwasamusedtonoticethathestowedawaytheusedmatchesmostcarefullyinalittlechinapot.Mymomentaryannoyancevanished.
Poirothadplacedourtwochairsinfrontoftheopenwindowwhichcommandedaviewofthevillagestreet.Thefreshairblewinwarmandpleasant.Itwasgoingtobeahotday.
Suddenlymyattentionwasarrestedbyaweedylookingyoungmanrushingdownthestreetatagreatpace.Itwastheexpressiononhisfacethatwasextraordinary—acuriousminglingofterrorandagitation.
“Look,Poirot!”Isaid.
Heleantforward.
“Tiens!”hesaid.“ItisMr.Mace,fromthechemist’sshop.Heiscominghere.
