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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 38 из 147Amyas wasn’t the sort of man who’d believe easily in his own danger. He’d have scoffed at the notion. And he never thoroughly understood the sort of devil Caroline was. But I could have gone to her. I could have said: “I know what you’re up to. I know what you’re planning to do. But if Amyas or Elsa die of coniine poisoning, you’ll be hanged by your neck!” That would have stopped her. Or I might have rung up the police. Oh! there were things that could have been done-and instead, I let myself be influenced by Meredith’s slow, cautious methods. “We must be sure-talk it over-make quite certain who could have taken it…” Damned old fool-never made a quick decision in his life! A good thing for him he was the eldest son and has an estate to live on. If he’d ever tried tomake money he’d have lost every penny he had.’
Poirot asked:
‘You had no doubt yourself who had taken the poison?’
‘Of course not. I knew at once it must be Caroline. You see, I knew Caroline very well.’
Poirot said:
‘That is very interesting. I want to know, Mr Blake, what kind of a woman Caroline Crale was?’
Philip Blake said sharply:
‘She wasn’t the injured innocent people thought she was at the time of the trial!’
‘What was she, then?’
Blake sat down again. He said seriously:
‘Would you really like to know?’
‘I would like to know very much indeed.’
‘Caroline was a rotter. She was a rotter through and through. Mind you, she had charm. She had that kind of sweetness of manner that deceives people utterly. She had a frail, helpless look about her that appealed to people’s chivalry. Sometimes, when I’ve read a bit of history, I think Mary Queen of Scots must have been a bit like her. Always sweet and unfortunate and magnetic-and actually a cold calculating woman, a scheming woman who planned the murder of Darnley and got away with it. Caroline was like that-a cold, calculating planner. And she had a wicked temper.
‘I don’t know whether they’ve told you-it isn’t a vital point of the trial, but it shows her up-what she did to her baby sister? She was jealous, you know. Her mother had married again, and all the notice and affection went to little Angela. Caroline couldn’t stand that. She tried to kill the baby with a crowbar-smash its head in. Luckily the blow wasn’t fatal. But it was a pretty ghastly thing to do.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘Well, that was the real Caroline. She had to be first. That was the thing she simply could not stand-not being first.
Poirot asked:
‘You had no doubt yourself who had taken the poison?’
‘Of course not. I knew at once it must be Caroline. You see, I knew Caroline very well.’
Poirot said:
‘That is very interesting. I want to know, Mr Blake, what kind of a woman Caroline Crale was?’
Philip Blake said sharply:
‘She wasn’t the injured innocent people thought she was at the time of the trial!’
‘What was she, then?’
Blake sat down again. He said seriously:
‘Would you really like to know?’
‘I would like to know very much indeed.’
‘Caroline was a rotter. She was a rotter through and through. Mind you, she had charm. She had that kind of sweetness of manner that deceives people utterly. She had a frail, helpless look about her that appealed to people’s chivalry. Sometimes, when I’ve read a bit of history, I think Mary Queen of Scots must have been a bit like her. Always sweet and unfortunate and magnetic-and actually a cold calculating woman, a scheming woman who planned the murder of Darnley and got away with it. Caroline was like that-a cold, calculating planner. And she had a wicked temper.
‘I don’t know whether they’ve told you-it isn’t a vital point of the trial, but it shows her up-what she did to her baby sister? She was jealous, you know. Her mother had married again, and all the notice and affection went to little Angela. Caroline couldn’t stand that. She tried to kill the baby with a crowbar-smash its head in. Luckily the blow wasn’t fatal. But it was a pretty ghastly thing to do.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘Well, that was the real Caroline. She had to be first. That was the thing she simply could not stand-not being first.