Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
8. Further Surprising Revelations
“There—there—Icomprehend—Icomprehendeverything—everything,Itellyou.Iwillaskyounomorequestions.ItisenoughthatyouhaveadmittedwhatIknowtobethetruth.Iunderstand,Itellyou.”
Bynowinarticulatewithsobs,GretaOhlssonroseandgropedherwayblindlytowardsthedoor.Asshereacheditshecollidedwithamancomingin.
Itwasthevalet—Masterman.
HecamestraightuptoPoirotandspokeinhisusual,quiet,unemotionalvoice.
“IhopeI’mnotintruding,sir.Ithoughtitbesttocomealongatonce,sir,andtellyouthetruth.IwasColonelArmstrong’sbatmaninthewar,sir,andafterwardsIwashisvaletinNewYork.I’mafraidIconcealedthatfactthismorning.Itwasverywrongofme,sir,andIthoughtI’dbettercomeandmakeacleanbreastofit.ButIhope,sir,thatyou’renotsuspectingTonioinanyway.OldTonio,sir,wouldn’thurtafly.AndIcanswearpositivelythatheneverleftthecarriagealllastnight.So,yousee,sir,hecouldn’thavedoneit.Toniomaybeaforeigner,sir,buthe’saverygentlecreature—notlikethosenastymurderingItaliansonereadsabout.”
Hestopped.
Poirotlookedsteadilyathim.
“Isthatallyouhavetosay?”
“Thatisall,sir.”
Hepaused,then,asPoirotdidnotspeak,hemadeanapologeticlittlebow,andafteramomentaryhesitationleftthediningcarinthesamequiet,unobtrusivefashionashehadcome.
“This,”saidDr.Constantine,“ismorewildlyimprobablethananyromanpolicierIhaveeverread.”
“Iagree,”saidM.Bouc.
