Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
2. The Tokatlian Hotel
Hisslightlybaldhead,hisdomedforehead,thesmilingmouththatdisplayedaverywhitesetoffalseteeth,allseemedtospeakofabenevolentpersonality.Onlytheeyesbeliedthisassumption.Theyweresmall,deepsetandcrafty.Notonlythat.Astheman,makingsomeremarktohisyoungcompanion,glancedacrosstheroom,hisgazestoppedonPoirotforamoment,andjustforthatsecondtherewasastrangemalevolence,andunnaturaltensityintheglance.
Thenherose.
“Paythebill,Hector,”hesaid.
Hisvoicewasslightlyhuskyintone.Ithadaqueer,soft,dangerousquality.
WhenPoirotrejoinedhisfriendinthelounge,theothertwomenwerejustleavingthehotel.Theirluggagewasbeingbroughtdown.Theyoungerwassupervisingtheprocess.Presentlyheopenedtheglassdoorandsaid:
“Quitereadynow,Mr.Ratchett.”
Theeldermangruntedanassentandpassedout.
“Ehbien,”saidPoirot.“Whatdoyouthinkofthosetwo?”
“TheyareAmericans,”saidM.Bouc.
“AssuredlytheyareAmericans.Imeantwhatdidyouthinkoftheirpersonalities?”
“Theyoungmanseemedquiteagreeable.”
“Andtheother?”
“Totellyouthetruth,myfriend,Ididnotcareforhim.Heproducedonmeanunpleasantimpression.Andyou?”
HerculePoirotwasamomentbeforereplying.
“Whenhepassedmeintherestaurant,”hesaidatlast,“Ihadacuriousimpression.Itwasasthoughawildanimal—ananimalsavage,butsavage!youunderstand—hadpassedmeby.”
“Andyethelookedaltogetherofthemostrespectable.
