Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
3. Poirot Refuses a Case
Shewassmokingacigaretteinalongholder.Hermanicuredhandshaddeeprednails.Sheworeonelargeemeraldsetinplatinum.Therewascoquetryinherglanceandvoice.
“Elleestjolie—etchic,”murmuredPoirot.“Husbandandwife—eh?”
M.Boucnodded.
“HungarianEmbassy,Ibelieve,”hesaid.“Ahandsomecouple.”
Therewereonlytwomorelunchers—Poirot’sfellowtravellerMacQueenandhisemployerMr.Ratchett.ThelattersatfacingPoirot,andforthesecondtimePoirotstudiedthatunprepossessingface,notingthefalsebenevolenceofthebrowandthesmall,crueleyes.
DoubtlessM.Boucsawachangeinhisfriend’sexpression.
“Itisatyourwildanimalyoulook?”heasked.
Poirotnodded.
Ashiscoffeewasbroughttohim,M.Boucrosetohisfeet.HavingstartedbeforePoirot,hehadfinishedsometimeago.
“Ireturntomycompartment,”hesaid.“Comealongpresentlyandconversewithme.”
“Withpleasure.”
Poirotsippedhiscoffeeandorderedaliqueur.Theattendantwaspassingfromtabletotablewithhisboxofmoney,acceptingpaymentforbills.TheelderlyAmericanlady’svoiceroseshrillandplaintive.
“Mydaughtersaid,‘Takeabookoffoodticketsandyou’llhavenotrouble—notroubleatall.’Now,thatisn’tso.Seemstheyhavetohaveatenpercenttip,andthenthere’sthatbottleofmineralwater—andaqueersortofwatertoo.Theyhadn’tgotanyEvianorVichy,whichseemsqueertome.”
“Itis—theymust—howyousay—servethewaterofthecountry,”explainedthesheep-facedlady.
“Well,itseemsqueertome.
