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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 59 из 147Brilliant sun-but a chilly little wind.’
The path came out of the trees and skirted an outcrop of rock. Meredith pointed up with his hand.
‘That’s what they called the Battery. We’re more or less underneath it now-skirting round it.’
They plunged into trees again and then the path took another sharp turn and they emerged by a door set in a high wall. The path itself continued to zigzag upwards, but Meredith opened the door and the two men passed through it.
For a moment Poirot was dazzled coming in from the shade outside. The Battery was an artificially cleared plateau with battlements set with cannon. It gave one the impression of overhanging the sea. There were trees above it and behind it, but on the sea side there was nothing but the dazzling blue water below.
‘Attractive spot,’ said Meredith. He nodded contemptuously towards a kind of pavilion set back against the back wall. ‘That wasn’t there, of course-only an old tumbledown shed where Amyas kept his painting muck and some bottled beer and a few deck chairs. It wasn’t concreted then, either. There used to be a bench and a table-painted iron ones. That was all. Still-it hasn’t changed much.’
His voice held an unsteady note.
Poirot said: ‘And it was here that it happened?’
Meredith nodded.
‘The bench was there-up against the shed. He was sprawled on that. He used to sprawl there sometimes when he was painting-just fling himself down and stare and stare-and then suddenly up he’d jump and start laying the paint on the canvas like mad.’
He paused.
‘That’s why, you know, he looked-almost natural. As though he might be asleep-just have dropped off. But his eyes were open-and he’d-just stiffened up. Stuff sort of paralyses you, you know. There isn’t any pain…I’ve-I’ve always been glad of that…’
Poirot asked a thing that he already knew.
‘Who found him?’
‘She did. Caroline. After lunch. I and Elsa, I suppose, were the last ones to see him alive. It must have been coming on then. He-looked queer. I’d rather not talk about it. I’ll write it to you. Easier that way.’
He turned abruptly and went out of the Battery. Poirot followed him without speaking.
The two men went on up the zigzag path. At a higher level than the Battery there was another small plateau. It was over-shadowed with trees and there was a bench there and a table.
Meredith said:
‘They haven’t changed this much. But the bench used not to be Ye Olde Rustic. It was just a painted iron business.
The path came out of the trees and skirted an outcrop of rock. Meredith pointed up with his hand.
‘That’s what they called the Battery. We’re more or less underneath it now-skirting round it.’
They plunged into trees again and then the path took another sharp turn and they emerged by a door set in a high wall. The path itself continued to zigzag upwards, but Meredith opened the door and the two men passed through it.
For a moment Poirot was dazzled coming in from the shade outside. The Battery was an artificially cleared plateau with battlements set with cannon. It gave one the impression of overhanging the sea. There were trees above it and behind it, but on the sea side there was nothing but the dazzling blue water below.
‘Attractive spot,’ said Meredith. He nodded contemptuously towards a kind of pavilion set back against the back wall. ‘That wasn’t there, of course-only an old tumbledown shed where Amyas kept his painting muck and some bottled beer and a few deck chairs. It wasn’t concreted then, either. There used to be a bench and a table-painted iron ones. That was all. Still-it hasn’t changed much.’
His voice held an unsteady note.
Poirot said: ‘And it was here that it happened?’
Meredith nodded.
‘The bench was there-up against the shed. He was sprawled on that. He used to sprawl there sometimes when he was painting-just fling himself down and stare and stare-and then suddenly up he’d jump and start laying the paint on the canvas like mad.’
He paused.
‘That’s why, you know, he looked-almost natural. As though he might be asleep-just have dropped off. But his eyes were open-and he’d-just stiffened up. Stuff sort of paralyses you, you know. There isn’t any pain…I’ve-I’ve always been glad of that…’
Poirot asked a thing that he already knew.
‘Who found him?’
‘She did. Caroline. After lunch. I and Elsa, I suppose, were the last ones to see him alive. It must have been coming on then. He-looked queer. I’d rather not talk about it. I’ll write it to you. Easier that way.’
He turned abruptly and went out of the Battery. Poirot followed him without speaking.
The two men went on up the zigzag path. At a higher level than the Battery there was another small plateau. It was over-shadowed with trees and there was a bench there and a table.
Meredith said:
‘They haven’t changed this much. But the bench used not to be Ye Olde Rustic. It was just a painted iron business.