Пуаро ведёт следствие
IX. The Disappearance of Mr. Davenheim
Heseemedlostinreflection,hisbrowknitted,asthoughwithsomesupremementaleffort.Ifeltthatatlasthiskeenintellectwasassertingitself.Whatwouldhisfirstwordsbe?Wewerenotlongleftindoubt.Withasigh,thetensionofhisattituderelaxed,andturningtoJapp,heasked:
“Haveyouanyidea,myfriend,whetherMr.andMrs.Davenheimoccupiedthesamebedroom?”
Thequestionseemedsoludicrouslyinappropriatethatforamomentwebothstaredinsilence.ThenJappburstintoalaugh.“GoodLord,MonsieurPoirot,Ithoughtyouwerecomingoutwithsomethingstartling.Astoyourquestion,I’msureIdon’tknow.”
“Youcouldfindout?”askedPoirotwithcuriouspersistence.
“Oh,certainly—ifyoureallywanttoknow.”
“Merci,monami.Ishouldbeobligedifyouwouldmakeapointofit.”
Jappstaredathimafewminuteslonger,butPoirotseemedtohaveforgottenusboth.Thedetectiveshookhisheadsadlyatme,andmurmuring,“Pooroldfellow!War’sbeentoomuchforhim!”gentlywithdrewfromtheroom.
AsPoirotstillseemedsunkinadaydream,Itookasheetofpaper,andamusedmyselfbyscribblingnotesuponit.Myfriend’svoicearousedme.Hehadcomeoutofhisreverie,andwaslookingbriskandalert.
“Quefaitesvouslà,monami?”
“Iwasjottingdownwhatoccurredtomeasthemainpointsofinterestinthisaffair.”
“Youbecomemethodical—atlast!”saidPoirotapprovingly.
Iconcealedmypleasure.“ShallIreadthemtoyou?”
“Byallmeans.”
Iclearedmythroat.
