Убийство на поле для гольфа

19. I Use My Grey Cells

           

           “Thereisonemorethingthatyouhavefailedtotakeintoaccount,”hesaidoverhisshoulder.

           “Whatisthat?”

           “Thepieceofleadpiping,”saidPoirot,andlefttheroom.

           JackRenauldstillstoodinthehall,withawhitedumbface,butaswecameoutofthesalon,helookedupsharply.Atthesamemomenttherewasthesoundofafootfallonthestaircase.Mrs.Renauldwasdescendingit.Atthesightofherson,standingbetweenthetwomyrmidonsofthelaw,shestoppedasthoughpetrified.

           “Jack,”shefaltered.“Jack,whatisthis?”

           Helookedupather,hisfaceset.

           “Theyhavearrestedme,mother.”

           “What?”

           Sheutteredapiercingcry,andbeforeanyonecouldgettoherswayedandfellheavily.Webothrantoherandliftedherup.InaminutePoirotstoodupagain.

           “Shehascutherheadbadly,onthecornerofthestairs.Ifancythereisaslightconcussionalso.IfGiraudwantsastatementfromher,hewillhavetowait.Shewillprobablybeunconsciousforatleastaweek.”

           DeniseandFrançoisehadruntotheirmistress,andleavingherintheirchargePoirotleftthehouse.Hewalkedwithhisheadbentdown,frowningthoughtfullyattheground.ForsometimeIdidnotspeak,butatlastIventuredtoputaquestiontohim.

           “Doyoubelievethen,inspiteofallappearancestothecontrary,thatJackRenauldmaynotbeguilty?”

           Poirotdidnotansweratonce,butafteralongwaithesaidgravely:

           “Idonotknow,Hastings.Thereisjustachanceofit.OfcourseGiraudisallwrong—wrongfrombeginningtoend.

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