Пуаро ведёт следствие
II. The Tragedy at Marsdon Manor
“Won’tyoujuststayandhavesomethingtoeat?”
Weacceptedgratefully,andIfeltthatourpresencecouldnotbuthelpdistractheralittlefromherowngriefs.
Wehadjustfinishedoursoup,whentherewasascreamoutsidethedoor,andthesoundofbreakingcrockery.Wejumpedup.Theparlourmaidappeared,herhandtoherheart.
“Itwasaman—standinginthepassage.”
Poirotrushedout,returningquickly.
“Thereisnoonethere.”
“Isn’tthere,sir?”saidtheparlourmaidweakly.“Oh,itdidgivemeastart!”
“Butwhy?”
Shedroppedhervoicetoawhisper.
“Ithought—Ithoughtitwasthemaster—itlookedlike’im.”
IsawMrs.Maltraversgiveaterrifiedstart,andmymindflewtotheoldsuperstitionthatasuicidecannotrest.Shethoughtofittoo,Iamsure,foraminutelater,shecaughtPoirot’sarmwithascream.
“Didn’tyouhearthat?Thosethreetapsonthewindow?That’showhealwaysusedtotapwhenhepassedroundthehouse.”
“Theivy,”Icried.“Itwastheivyagainstthepane.”
Butasortofterrorwasgainingonusall.Theparlourmaidwasobviouslyunstrung,andwhenthemealwasoverMrs.MaltraversbesoughtPoirotnottogoatonce.Shewasclearlyterrifiedtobeleftalone.Wesatinthelittlemorning-room.Thewindwasgettingup,andmoaningroundthehouseinaneeriefashion.Twicethedooroftheroomcameunlatchedandthedoorslowlyopened,andeachtimesheclungtomewithaterrifiedgasp.
“Ah,butthisdoor,itisbewitched!”criedPoirotangrilyatlast.Hegotupandshutitoncemore,thenturnedthekeyinthelock.
