Убийство на поле для гольфа
15. A Photograph
“Hewasinsistent,thegoodGiraud,”saidPoirotthoughtfully,aswewalkedtowardsthehotel.“Iwonderinwhatdirectionhehopestomisleadme?Awoman’shair—h’m!”
Welunchedheartily,butIfoundPoirotsomewhatdistraitandinattentive.Afterwardswewentuptooursitting-roomandthereIbeggedhimtotellmesomethingofhismysteriousjourneytoParis.
“Willingly,myfriend.IwenttoParistofindthis.”
Hetookfromhispocketasmallfadednewspapercutting.Itwasthereproductionofawoman’sphotograph.Hehandedittome.Iutteredanexclamation.
“Yourecognizeit,myfriend?”
Inodded.Althoughthephotoobviouslydatedfromverymanyyearsback,andthehairwasdressedinadifferentstyle,thelikenesswasunmistakable.
“MadameDaubreuil!”Iexclaimed.
Poirotshookhisheadwithasmile.
“Notquitecorrect,myfriend.Shedidnotcallherselfbythatnameinthosedays.ThatisapictureofthenotoriousMadameBeroldy!”
MadameBeroldy!Inaflashthewholethingcamebacktome.Themurdertrialthathadevokedsuchworld-wideinterest.
TheBeroldyCase.
