Убийство на поле для гольфа
7. The Mysterious Madame Daubreuil
Iamnotachild.Iamtwenty-two.Ishallnotgo.”
MadameDaubreuilturnedbacktotheexaminingmagistrate.
“Yousee,monsieur.”
“IshouldprefernottospeakbeforeMademoiselleDaubreuil.”
“Asmydaughtersays,sheisnotachild.”
Foramomentthemagistratehesitated,baffled.
“Verywell,madame,”hesaidatlast.“Haveityourownway.WehavereasontobelievethatyouwereinthehabitofvisitingthedeadmanathisVillaintheevenings.Isthatso?”
Thecolourroseinthelady’spalecheeks,butsherepliedquietly:
“Idenyyourrighttoaskmesuchaquestion!”
“Madame,weareinvestigatingamurder.”
“Well,whatofit?Ihadnothingtodowiththemurder.”
“Madame,wedonotsaythatforamoment.Butyouknewthedeadmanwell.Didheeverconfideinyouastoanydangerthatthreatenedhim?”
“Never.”
“DidheevermentionhislifeinSantiago,andanyenemieshemayhavemadethere?”
“No.”
“Thenyoucangiveusnohelpatall?”
“Ifearnot.Ireallydonotseewhyyoushouldcometome.Cannothiswifetellyouwhatyouwanttoknow?”Hervoiceheldaslenderinflectionofirony.
“MadameRenauldhastoldusallshecan.”
“Ah!”saidMadameDaubreuil.“Iwonder—”
“Youwonderwhat,madame?”
“Nothing.”
Theexaminingmagistratelookedather.Hewasawarethathewasfightingaduel,andthathehadnomeanantagonist.
“YoupersistinyourstatementthatM.Renauldconfidednothinginyou?”
“Whyshouldyouthinkitlikelythatheshouldconfideinme?”
“Because,madame,”saidM.Hautet,withcalculatedbrutality.
