-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Агата Кристи
-
- Убийство на поле для гольфа
-
- Стр. 221/284
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
It
was
the
face
of
Cinderella
.
For
a
moment
or
two
I
sat
as
though
frozen
,
the
photograph
still
in
my
hand
.
Then
,
summoning
all
my
courage
to
appear
unmoved
,
I
handed
it
back
.
At
the
same
time
,
I
stole
a
quick
glance
at
Poirot
.
Had
he
noticed
anything
?
But
to
my
relief
he
did
not
seem
to
be
observing
me
.
Anything
unusual
in
my
manner
had
certainly
escaped
him
.
He
rose
briskly
to
his
feet
.
“
We
have
no
time
to
lose
.
We
must
make
our
departure
with
all
despatch
.
All
is
well
—
the
sea
it
will
be
calm
!
”
In
the
bustle
of
departure
,
I
had
no
time
for
thinking
,
but
once
on
board
the
boat
,
secure
from
Poirot
’
s
observation
(
he
,
as
usual
,
was
“
practising
the
method
most
excellent
of
Laverguier
”
)
I
pulled
myself
together
,
and
attacked
the
facts
dispassionately
.
How
much
did
Poirot
know
?
Was
he
aware
that
my
acquaintance
of
the
train
and
Bella
Duveen
were
one
and
the
same
?
Why
had
he
gone
to
the
Hôtel
du
Phare
?
On
my
behalf
as
I
had
believed
?
Or
had
I
only
fatuously
thought
so
,
and
was
this
visit
undertaken
with
a
deeper
and
more
sinister
purpose
?
But
in
any
case
,
why
was
he
bent
on
finding
this
girl
?
Did
he
suspect
her
of
having
seen
Jack
Renauld
commit
the
crime
?
Or
did
he
suspect
—
but
that
was
impossible
!
The
girl
had
no
grudge
against
the
elder
Renauld
,
no
possible
motive
for
wishing
his
death
.
What
had
brought
her
back
to
the
scene
of
the
murder
?
I
went
over
the
facts
carefully
.
She
must
have
left
the
train
at
Calais
where
I
parted
from
her
that
day
.
No
wonder
I
had
been
unable
to
find
her
on
the
boat
.
If
she
had
dined
in
Calais
,
and
then
taken
a
train
out
to
Merlinville
,
she
would
have
arrived
at
the
Villa
Geneviève
just
about
the
time
that
Françoise
said
.
What
had
she
done
when
she
left
the
house
just
after
ten
?
Presumably
either
gone
to
an
hotel
,
or
returned
to
Calais
.
And
then
?
The
crime
had
been
committed
on
Tuesday
night
.
On
Thursday
morning
,
she
was
once
more
in
Merlinville
.
Had
she
ever
left
France
at
all
?
I
doubted
it
very
much
.
What
kept
her
there
—
the
hope
of
seeing
Jack
Renauld
?
I
had
told
her
(
as
at
the
time
we
believed
)
that
he
was
on
the
high
seas
en
route
to
Buenos
Ayres
.
Possibly
she
was
aware
that
the
Anzora
had
not
sailed
.
But
to
know
that
she
must
have
seen
Jack
.
Was
that
what
Poirot
was
after
?
Had
Jack
Renauld
,
returning
to
see
Marthe
Daubreuil
,
come
face
to
face
instead
with
Bella
Duveen
,
the
girl
he
had
heartlessly
thrown
over
?
I
began
to
see
daylight
.
If
that
were
indeed
the
case
,
it
might
furnish
Jack
with
the
alibi
he
needed
.
Yet
under
those
circumstances
his
silence
seemed
difficult
to
explain
.
Why
could
he
not
have
spoken
out
boldly
?
Did
he
fear
for
this
former
entanglement
of
his
to
come
to
the
ears
of
Marthe
Daubreuil
?
I
shook
my
head
,
dissatisfied
.
The
thing
had
been
harmless
enough
,
a
foolish
boy
and
girl
affair
,
and
I
reflected
cynically
that
the
son
of
a
millionaire
was
not
likely
to
be
thrown
over
by
a
penniless
French
girl
,
who
moreover
loved
him
devotedly
,
without
a
much
graver
cause
.
Altogether
I
found
the
affair
puzzling
and
unsatisfactory
.
I
disliked
intensely
being
associated
with
Poirot
in
hunting
this
girl
down
,
but
I
could
not
see
any
way
of
avoiding
it
,
without
revealing
everything
to
him
,
and
this
,
for
some
reason
,
I
was
loath
to
do
.
