Убийство на поле для гольфа

15. A Photograph

           Hebeamedandvociferatedand,forgettingmyEnglishreluctance,embracedmewarmlyontheplatform.

           “Moncherami,Ihavesucceeded—butsucceededtoamarvel!”

           “Indeed?I’mdelightedtohearit.Haveyouheardthelatesthere?”

           “HowwouldyouthatIshouldhearanything?Therehavebeensomedevelopments,eh?ThebraveGiraud,hehasmadeanarrest?Orevenarrestsperhaps?Ah,butIwillmakehimlookfoolish,thatone!Butwhereareyoutakingme,myfriend?Dowenotgotothehotel?ItisnecessarythatIattendtomymoustaches—theyaredeplorablylimpfromtheheatoftravelling.Also,withoutdoubt,thereisdustonmycoat.Andmytie,thatImustrearrange.”

           Icutshorthisremonstrances.

           “MydearPoirot—nevermindallthat.WemustgototheVillaatonce.Therehasbeenanothermurder!”

           IhavefrequentlybeendisappointedwhenfancyingthatIwasgivingnewsofimportancetomyfriend.Eitherhehasknownitalreadyorhehasdismisseditasirrelevanttothemainissue—andinthelattercaseeventshaveusuallyprovedhimjustified.ButthistimeIcouldnotcomplainofmissingmyeffect.NeverhaveIseenamansoflabbergasted.Hisjawdropped.Allthejauntinesswentoutofhisbearing.Hestaredatmeopen-mouthed.

           “Whatisthatyousay?Anothermurder?Ah,then,Iamallwrong.Ihavefailed.Giraudmaymockhimselfatme—hewillhavereason!”

           “Youdidnotexpectit,then?”

           “I?Nottheleastintheworld.Itdemolishesmytheory—itruinseverything—it—ah,no!”Hestoppeddead,thumpinghimselfonthechest.“Itisimpossible.

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