Убийство на поле для гольфа
27. Jack Renauld’s Story
Butwillyourecounttousexactlywhatdidoccuronthatterribleevening?”
“There’sverylittletotell.IcamefromCherbourg,asItoldyou,inordertoseeMarthebeforegoingtotheotherendoftheworld.Thetrainwaslate,andIdecidedtotaketheshortcutacrossthegolflinks.IcouldeasilygetintothegroundsoftheVillaMargueritefromthere.Ihadnearlyreachedtheplacewhen—”
Hepausedandswallowed.
“Yes?”
“Iheardaterriblecry.Itwasn’tloud—asortofchokeandgasp—butitfrightenedme.ForamomentIstoodrootedtothespot.ThenIcameroundthecornerofabush.Therewasmoonlight.Isawthegrave,andafigurelyingfacedownwards,withadaggerstickingintheback.Andthen—andthen—Ilookedupandsawher.Shewaslookingatmeasthoughshesawaghost—it’swhatshemusthavethoughtmeatfirst—allexpressionseemedfrozenoutofherfacebyhorror.Andthenshegaveacry,andturnedandran.”
Hestopped,tryingtomasterhisemotion.
“Andafterwards?”askedPoirotgently.
“Ireallydon’tknow.Istayedthereforatime,dazed.AndthenIrealizedI’dbettergetawayasfastasIcould.Itdidn’toccurtomethattheywouldsuspectme,butIwasafraidofbeingcalledupontogiveevidenceagainsther.IwalkedtoSt.BeauvaisasItoldyou,andgotacarfromtherebacktoCherbourg.”
Aknockcameatthedoor,andapageenteredwithatelegramwhichhedeliveredtoStonor.Hetoreitopen.Thenhegotupfromhisseat.
“Mrs.Renauldhasregainedconsciousness,”hesaid.
“Ah!”Poirotsprangtohisfeet.
