Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
11. The Evidence of Miss Debenham
Hubbardhasbeentellingeveryone.”
“AndwhatdoyouthinkoftheArmstrongaffair?”
“Itwasquiteabominable,”saidthegirlcrisply.
Poirotlookedatherthoughtfully.
“YouaretravellingfromBaghdad,Ibelieve,MissDebenham?”
“Yes.”
“ToLondon?”
“Yes.”
“WhathaveyoubeendoinginBaghdad?”
“Ihavebeenactingasgovernesstotwochildren.”
“Areyoureturningtoyourpostafteryourholiday?”
“Iamnotsure.”
“Whyisthat?”
“Baghdadisratheroutofthings.IthinkIshouldpreferapostinLondonifIcanhearofasuitableone.”
“Isee.Ithought,perhaps,youmightbegoingtobemarried.”
MissDebenhamdidnotreply.SheraisedhereyesandlookedPoirotfullintheface.Theglancesaidplainly,“Youareimpertinent.”
“Whatisyouropinionoftheladywhosharesyourcompartment—MissOhlsson?”
“Sheseemsapleasant,simplecreature.”
“Whatcolourisherdressinggown?”
MaryDebenhamstared.
“Akindofbrownishcolour—naturalwool.”
“Ah!Imaymentionwithoutindiscretion,Ihope,thatInoticedthecolourofyourdressinggownonthewayfromAleppotoStamboul.Apalemauve,Ibelieve.”
“Yes,thatisright.”
“Haveyouanyotherdressinggown,Mademoiselle?Ascarletdressinggown,forexample?”
“No,thatisnotmine.”
Poirotleanedforward.Hewaslikeacatpouncingonamouse.
“Whose,then?”
Thegirldrewbackalittle,startled.
“Idon’tknow.Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youdonotsay,‘No,Ihavenosuchthing.’Yousay,‘Thatisnotmine’—meaningthatsuchathingdoesbelongtosomeoneelse.
