Убийство на поле для гольфа
7. The Mysterious Madame Daubreuil
“I—Ishouldnotdothis,Iknow.Youmustnottellmymother.Butisittrue,whatthepeoplesay,thatM.Renauldcalledinadetectivebeforehedied,and—andthatyouarehe?”
“Yes,mademoiselle,”saidPoirotgently.“Itisquitetrue.Buthowdidyoulearnit?”
“FrançoisetoldourAmélie,”explainedMarthe,withablush.
Poirotmadeagrimace.
“Thesecrecy,itisimpossibleinanaffairofthiskind!Notthatitmatters.Well,mademoiselle,whatisityouwanttoknow?”
Thegirlhesitated.Sheseemedlonging,yetfearing,tospeak.Atlast,almostinawhisper,sheasked:
“Is—anyonesuspected?”
Poiroteyedherkeenly.
Thenherepliedevasively:
“Suspicionisintheairatpresent,mademoiselle.”
“Yes,Iknow—but—anyoneinparticular?”
“Whydoyouwanttoknow?”
Thegirlseemedfrightenedbythequestion.AllatoncePoirot’swordsaboutherearlierinthedayrecurredtome.The“girlwiththeanxiouseyes!”
“M.Renauldwasalwaysverykindtome,”sherepliedatlast.“ItisnaturalthatIshouldbeinterested.”
“Isee,”saidPoirot.“Well,mademoiselle,suspicionatpresentishoveringroundtwopersons.”
“Two?”
Icouldhavesworntherewasanoteofsurpriseandreliefinhervoice.
“Theirnamesareunknown,buttheyarepresumedtobeChiliansfromSantiago.Andnow,mademoiselle,youseewhatcomesofbeingyoungandbeautiful!Ihavebetrayedprofessionalsecretsforyou!”
Thegirllaughedmerrily,andthen,rathershyly,shethankedhim.
“Imustrunbacknow.Mamanwillmissme.
