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.
