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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 12 из 147was a very different typefrom Montague Depleach. Depleach had force, magnetism, an over-bearing and slightly bullying personality. He got his effects by a rapid and dramatic change of manner. Handsome, urbane, charming one minute-then an almost magical transformation, lips back, snarling smile-out for your blood.
Quentin Fogg was thin, pale, singularly lacking in what is called personality. His questions were quiet and unemotional-but steadily persistent. If Depleach was like a rapier, Fogg was like an auger. He bored steadily. He had never reached spectacular fame, but he was known as a first-class man on law. He usually won his cases.
Hercule Poirot eyed him meditatively.
‘So that,’ he said, ‘was how it struck you?’
Fogg nodded. He said:
‘You should have seen her in the box. Old Humpie Rudolph (he was leading, you know) simply made mincement of her. Mincemeat!’
He paused and then said unexpectedly:
‘On the whole, you know, it was rather too much of a good thing.’
‘I am not sure,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘that I quite understand you?’
Fogg drew his delicately marked brows together. His sensitive hand stroked his bare upper lip. He said:
‘How shall I put it? It’s a very English point of view. “Shooting the sitting bird” describes it best. Is that intelligible to you?’
‘It is, as you say, a very English point of view, but I think I understand you. In the Central Criminal Court, as on the playing fields of Eton, and in the hunting country, the Englishman likes the victim to have a sporting chance.’
‘That’s it, exactly. Well, in this case, the accuseddidn’t have a chance. Humpie Rudolph did as he liked with her. It started with her examination by Depleach. She stood up there, you know-as docile as a little girl at a party, answering Depleach’s questions with the answers she’d learnt off by heart. Quite docile, word perfect-and absolutely unconvincing! She’d been told what to say and she said it. It wasn’t Depleach’s fault. That old mountebank played his part perfectly-but in any scene that needs two actors, one alone can’t carry it. She didn’t play up to him. It made the worst possible effect on the jury. And then old Humpie got up. I expect you’ve seen him? He’s a great loss. Hitching his gown up, swaying back on his feet-and then-straight off the mark!
‘As I tell you, he made mincemeat of her! Led up to this and that-and she fell into the pitfall every time.
Quentin Fogg was thin, pale, singularly lacking in what is called personality. His questions were quiet and unemotional-but steadily persistent. If Depleach was like a rapier, Fogg was like an auger. He bored steadily. He had never reached spectacular fame, but he was known as a first-class man on law. He usually won his cases.
Hercule Poirot eyed him meditatively.
‘So that,’ he said, ‘was how it struck you?’
Fogg nodded. He said:
‘You should have seen her in the box. Old Humpie Rudolph (he was leading, you know) simply made mincement of her. Mincemeat!’
He paused and then said unexpectedly:
‘On the whole, you know, it was rather too much of a good thing.’
‘I am not sure,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘that I quite understand you?’
Fogg drew his delicately marked brows together. His sensitive hand stroked his bare upper lip. He said:
‘How shall I put it? It’s a very English point of view. “Shooting the sitting bird” describes it best. Is that intelligible to you?’
‘It is, as you say, a very English point of view, but I think I understand you. In the Central Criminal Court, as on the playing fields of Eton, and in the hunting country, the Englishman likes the victim to have a sporting chance.’
‘That’s it, exactly. Well, in this case, the accuseddidn’t have a chance. Humpie Rudolph did as he liked with her. It started with her examination by Depleach. She stood up there, you know-as docile as a little girl at a party, answering Depleach’s questions with the answers she’d learnt off by heart. Quite docile, word perfect-and absolutely unconvincing! She’d been told what to say and she said it. It wasn’t Depleach’s fault. That old mountebank played his part perfectly-but in any scene that needs two actors, one alone can’t carry it. She didn’t play up to him. It made the worst possible effect on the jury. And then old Humpie got up. I expect you’ve seen him? He’s a great loss. Hitching his gown up, swaying back on his feet-and then-straight off the mark!
‘As I tell you, he made mincemeat of her! Led up to this and that-and she fell into the pitfall every time.