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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 2 из 147It is this’-he tapped his egg-shaped head-‘thisthat functions!’
‘I know,’ said Carla Lemarchant. ‘That’s why I’ve come to you. I want you, you see, to do something fantastic!’
‘That,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘promises well!’
He looked at her in encouragement.
Carla Lemarchant drew a deep breath.
‘My name,’ she said, ‘isn’t Carla. It’s Caroline. The same as my mother’s. I was called after her.’ She paused. ‘And though I’ve always gone by the name of Lemarchant-my real name is Crale.’
Hercule Poirot’s forehead creased a moment perplexedly. He murmured: ‘Crale-I seem to remember…’
She said:
‘My father was a painter-rather a well-known painter. Some people say he was a great painter.I think he was.’
Hercule Poirot said: ‘Amyas Crale?’
‘Yes.’ She paused, then she went on: ‘And my mother, Caroline Crale, was tried for murdering him!’
‘Aha,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘I remember now-but only vaguely. I was abroad at the time. It was a long time ago.’
‘Sixteen years,’ said the girl.
Her face was very white now and her eyes two burning lights.
She said:
‘Do you understand?She was tried and convicted…She wasn’t hanged because they felt that there were extenuating circumstances-so the sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life. But she died only a year after the trial. You see? It’s all over-done-finished with…’
Poirot said quietly: ‘And so?’
The girl called Carla Lemarchant pressed her hands together. She spoke slowly and haltingly but with an odd, pointed emphasis.
She said:
‘You’ve got to understand-exactly-where I come in. I was five years old at the time it-happened. Too young to know anything about it. I remember my mother and my father, of course, and I remember leaving home suddenly-being taken to the country. I remember the pigs and a nice fat farmer’s wife-and everybody being very kind-and I remember, quite clearly, the funny way they used to look at me-everybody-a sort of furtive look. I knew, of course, children do, that there was something wrong-but I didn’t know what.
‘And then I went on a ship-it was exciting-it went on for days, and then I was in Canada and Uncle Simon met me, and I lived in Montreal with him and with Aunt Louise, and when I asked about Mummy and Daddy they said they’d be coming soon. And then-and then I think I forgot-only I sort of knew that they were dead without remembering any one actually telling me so. Because by that time, you see, I didn’t think about them any more. I was very hapy, you know.
‘I know,’ said Carla Lemarchant. ‘That’s why I’ve come to you. I want you, you see, to do something fantastic!’
‘That,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘promises well!’
He looked at her in encouragement.
Carla Lemarchant drew a deep breath.
‘My name,’ she said, ‘isn’t Carla. It’s Caroline. The same as my mother’s. I was called after her.’ She paused. ‘And though I’ve always gone by the name of Lemarchant-my real name is Crale.’
Hercule Poirot’s forehead creased a moment perplexedly. He murmured: ‘Crale-I seem to remember…’
She said:
‘My father was a painter-rather a well-known painter. Some people say he was a great painter.I think he was.’
Hercule Poirot said: ‘Amyas Crale?’
‘Yes.’ She paused, then she went on: ‘And my mother, Caroline Crale, was tried for murdering him!’
‘Aha,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘I remember now-but only vaguely. I was abroad at the time. It was a long time ago.’
‘Sixteen years,’ said the girl.
Her face was very white now and her eyes two burning lights.
She said:
‘Do you understand?She was tried and convicted…She wasn’t hanged because they felt that there were extenuating circumstances-so the sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life. But she died only a year after the trial. You see? It’s all over-done-finished with…’
Poirot said quietly: ‘And so?’
The girl called Carla Lemarchant pressed her hands together. She spoke slowly and haltingly but with an odd, pointed emphasis.
She said:
‘You’ve got to understand-exactly-where I come in. I was five years old at the time it-happened. Too young to know anything about it. I remember my mother and my father, of course, and I remember leaving home suddenly-being taken to the country. I remember the pigs and a nice fat farmer’s wife-and everybody being very kind-and I remember, quite clearly, the funny way they used to look at me-everybody-a sort of furtive look. I knew, of course, children do, that there was something wrong-but I didn’t know what.
‘And then I went on a ship-it was exciting-it went on for days, and then I was in Canada and Uncle Simon met me, and I lived in Montreal with him and with Aunt Louise, and when I asked about Mummy and Daddy they said they’d be coming soon. And then-and then I think I forgot-only I sort of knew that they were dead without remembering any one actually telling me so. Because by that time, you see, I didn’t think about them any more. I was very hapy, you know.