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- Агата Кристи
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- Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе
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- Стр. 69/274
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“
A
most
admirable
sentiment
,
”
remarked
Poirot
,
rising
briskly
to
his
feet
.
“
Now
I
have
finished
with
this
room
.
By
the
way
,
whose
is
the
smaller
desk
in
the
corner
?
”
“
Mr
.
Inglethorp
’
s
.
”
“
Ah
!
”
He
tried
the
roll
top
tentatively
.
“
Locked
.
But
perhaps
one
of
Mrs
.
Inglethorp
’
s
keys
would
open
it
.
”
He
tried
several
,
twisting
and
turning
them
with
a
practiced
hand
,
and
finally
uttering
an
ejaculation
of
satisfaction
.
“
Voilà
!
It
is
not
the
key
,
but
it
will
open
it
at
a
pinch
.
”
He
slid
back
the
roll
top
,
and
ran
a
rapid
eye
over
the
neatly
filed
papers
To
my
surprise
,
he
did
not
examine
them
,
merely
remarking
approvingly
as
he
relocked
the
desk
:
“
Decidedly
,
he
is
a
man
of
method
,
this
Mr
.
Inglethorp
!
”
A
“
man
of
method
”
was
,
in
Poirot
’
s
estimation
,
the
highest
praise
that
could
be
bestowed
on
any
individual
.
I
felt
that
my
friend
was
not
what
he
had
been
as
he
rambled
on
disconnectedly
:
“
There
were
no
stamps
in
his
desk
,
but
there
might
have
been
,
eh
,
mon
ami
?
There
might
have
been
?
Yes
”
—
his
eyes
wandered
round
the
room
—
“
this
boudoir
has
nothing
more
to
tell
us
.
It
did
not
yield
much
.
Only
this
.
”
He
pulled
a
crumpled
envelope
out
of
his
pocket
,
and
tossed
it
over
to
me
.
It
was
rather
a
curious
document
.
A
plain
,
dirty
looking
old
envelope
with
a
few
words
scrawled
across
it
,
apparently
at
random
.
The
following
is
a
facsimile
of
it
.
“
Where
did
you
find
this
?
”
I
asked
Poirot
,
in
lively
curiosity
.
“
In
the
waste
-
paper
basket
.
You
recognise
the
handwriting
?
”
