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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 40 из 147He said:
‘And that’s the man-the man who painted those roses-the man who painted the “Woman with a Cocktail Shaker”-the man who painted that amazing painful “Nativity”,that’s the man who was cut short in his prime, deprived of his vivid forceful life all because of a vindictive mean-natured woman!’
He paused:
‘You’ll say that I’m bitter-that I’m unduly prejudiced against Caroline. Shehad charm-I’ve felt it. But I knew-I always knew-the real woman behind. And that woman, M. Poirot, was evil. She was cruel and malignant and a grabber!’
‘And yet it has been told me that Mrs Crale put up with many hard things in her married life?’
‘Yes, and didn’t she let everybody know about it! Always the martyr! Poor old Amyas. His married life was one long hell-or rather it would have been if it hadn’t been for his exceptional quality. His art, you see-he always had that. It was an escape. When he was painting he didn’t care, he shook off Caroline and her nagging and all the ceaseless rows and quarrels. They were endless, you know. Not a week passed without a thundering row over one thing or another.She enjoyed it. Having rows stimulated her, I believe. It was an outlet. She could say all the hard bitter stinging things she wanted to say. She’d positively purr after one of those set-tos-go off looking as sleek and well-fed as a cat. But it took it out ofhim. He wanted peace-rest-a quiet life. Of course a man like that ought never to marry-he isn’t out for domesticity. A man like Crale should have affairs but no binding ties. They’re bound to chafe him.’
‘He confided in you?’
‘Well-he knew that I was a pretty devoted pal. He let me see things. He didn’t complain. He wasn’t that kind of man. Sometimes he’d say, “Damn all women.” Or he’d say, “Never get married, old boy. Wait for hell till after this life.” ’
‘You knew about his attachment to Miss Greer?’
‘Oh yes-at least I saw it coming on. He told me he’d met a marvellous girl. She was different, he said, from anything or any one he’d ever met before. Not that I paid much attention to that. Amyas was always meeting one woman or other who was “different”. Usually a month later he’d stare at you if you mentioned them, and wonder who you were talking about! But this Elsa Greer really was different. I realized that when I came down to Alderbury to stay. She’d got him, you know, hooked him good and proper. The poor mutt fairly ate out of her hand.’
‘You did not like Elsa Greer either?’
‘No, I didn’t like her. She was definitely a predatory creature. She, too, wanted to own Crale body and soul. But I think, all the same, that she’d have been better for him than Caroline. She might conceivably have let him alone once she was sure of him. Or she might have got tired of him and moved on to someone else. The best thing for Amyas would have been to be quite free of female entanglements.
‘And that’s the man-the man who painted those roses-the man who painted the “Woman with a Cocktail Shaker”-the man who painted that amazing painful “Nativity”,that’s the man who was cut short in his prime, deprived of his vivid forceful life all because of a vindictive mean-natured woman!’
He paused:
‘You’ll say that I’m bitter-that I’m unduly prejudiced against Caroline. Shehad charm-I’ve felt it. But I knew-I always knew-the real woman behind. And that woman, M. Poirot, was evil. She was cruel and malignant and a grabber!’
‘And yet it has been told me that Mrs Crale put up with many hard things in her married life?’
‘Yes, and didn’t she let everybody know about it! Always the martyr! Poor old Amyas. His married life was one long hell-or rather it would have been if it hadn’t been for his exceptional quality. His art, you see-he always had that. It was an escape. When he was painting he didn’t care, he shook off Caroline and her nagging and all the ceaseless rows and quarrels. They were endless, you know. Not a week passed without a thundering row over one thing or another.She enjoyed it. Having rows stimulated her, I believe. It was an outlet. She could say all the hard bitter stinging things she wanted to say. She’d positively purr after one of those set-tos-go off looking as sleek and well-fed as a cat. But it took it out ofhim. He wanted peace-rest-a quiet life. Of course a man like that ought never to marry-he isn’t out for domesticity. A man like Crale should have affairs but no binding ties. They’re bound to chafe him.’
‘He confided in you?’
‘Well-he knew that I was a pretty devoted pal. He let me see things. He didn’t complain. He wasn’t that kind of man. Sometimes he’d say, “Damn all women.” Or he’d say, “Never get married, old boy. Wait for hell till after this life.” ’
‘You knew about his attachment to Miss Greer?’
‘Oh yes-at least I saw it coming on. He told me he’d met a marvellous girl. She was different, he said, from anything or any one he’d ever met before. Not that I paid much attention to that. Amyas was always meeting one woman or other who was “different”. Usually a month later he’d stare at you if you mentioned them, and wonder who you were talking about! But this Elsa Greer really was different. I realized that when I came down to Alderbury to stay. She’d got him, you know, hooked him good and proper. The poor mutt fairly ate out of her hand.’
‘You did not like Elsa Greer either?’
‘No, I didn’t like her. She was definitely a predatory creature. She, too, wanted to own Crale body and soul. But I think, all the same, that she’d have been better for him than Caroline. She might conceivably have let him alone once she was sure of him. Or she might have got tired of him and moved on to someone else. The best thing for Amyas would have been to be quite free of female entanglements.