Убийство Роджера Экройда
The Goldfish Pond
Willtheynot?"Ilookedathiminquiringly,buthebegantofussaboutafewmicroscopicdropsofwateronhiscoatsleeve.Themanremindedmeinsomewaysofacat.Hisgreeneyesandhisfinickinghabits.
"Andallfornothing,too,"Isaidsympathetically."Iwonderwhatitwasinthepond?""Wouldyouliketosee?"askedPoirot.
Istaredathim.Henodded.
"Mygoodfriend,"hesaidgentlyandreproachfully"HerculePoirotdoesnotruntheriskofdisarranginghiscostumewithoutbeingsureofattaininghisobject.Todosowouldberidiculousandabsurd.Iamneverridiculous.""Butyoubroughtyourhandoutempty,"Iobjected.
"Therearetimeswhenitisnecessarytohavediscretion.Doyoutellyourpatientseverything–buteverything,doctor?Ithinknot.Nordoyoutellyourexcellentsistereverythingeither,isitnotso?Beforeshowingmyemptyhand,Idroppedwhatitcontainedintomyotherhand.Youshallseewhatthatwas."Heheldouthislefthand,palmopen.Onitlayalittlecircletofgold.Awoman’sweddingring.
Itookitfromhim.
"Lookinside,"commandedPoirot.
Ididso.Insidewasaninscriptioninfinewriting:FromR.,March13th.
IlookedatPoirot,buthewasbusyinspectinghisappearanceinatinypocketglass.Hepaidparticularattentiontohismoustaches,andnoneatalltome.Isawthathedidnotintendtobecommunicative.
