Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
Chapter VI. The Inquest
“Yes,sir.ItwastoMr.Inglethorp.”
EveryeyeturnedsimultaneouslytowhereAlfredInglethorpwassitting,impassiveandwooden.Hestartedslightly,asthedamningwordsfellfromtheyoungman’slips.Ihalfthoughthewasgoingtorisefromhischair,butheremainedseated,althougharemarkablywellactedexpressionofastonishmentroseonhisface.
“Youaresureofwhatyousay?”askedtheCoronersternly.
“Quitesure,sir.”
“Areyouinthehabitofsellingstrychnineindiscriminatelyoverthecounter?”
ThewretchedyoungmanwiltedvisiblyundertheCoroner’sfrown.
“Oh,no,sir—ofcoursenot.But,seeingitwasMr.InglethorpoftheHall,Ithoughttherewasnoharminit.Hesaiditwastopoisonadog.”
InwardlyIsympathized.Itwasonlyhumannaturetoendeavourtoplease“TheHall”—especiallywhenitmightresultincustombeingtransferredfromCoot’stothelocalestablishment.
“Isitnotcustomaryforanyonepurchasingpoisontosignabook?”
“Yes,sir,Mr.Inglethorpdidso.”
“Haveyougotthebookhere?”
“Yes,sir.”
Itwasproduced;and,withafewwordsofsterncensure,theCoronerdismissedthewretchedMr.Mace.
Then,amidstabreathlesssilence,AlfredInglethorpwascalled.Didherealize,Iwondered,howcloselythehalterwasbeingdrawnaroundhisneck?
TheCoronerwentstraighttothepoint.
“OnMondayeveninglast,didyoupurchasestrychnineforthepurposeofpoisoningadog?”
Inglethorprepliedwithperfectcalmness:
“No,Ididnot.
