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.
