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Five Little Pigs :: Christie Agatha
Страница: 63 из 147She has, I hope, recovered from the shock. I have come to believe that she has forgotten it. Now you appear and necessarily your questions will reawaken these old memories.’
‘It is regrettable,’ said Hercule Poirot politely.
‘I do not know quite what the result will be.’
‘I can only assure you, Lord Dittisham, that I shall be as discreet as possible, and do all I can not to distress Lady Dittisham. She is, no doubt, of a delicate and nervous temperament.’
Then, suddenly and surprisingly, the other laughed. He said:
‘Elsa? Elsa’s as strong as a horse!’
‘Then-’ Poirot paused diplomatically. The situation intrigued him.
Lord Dittisham said:
‘My wife is equal to any amount of shocks. I wonder if you know her reason for seeing you?’
Poirot replied placidly: ‘Curiosity?’
A kind of respect showed in the other man’s eyes.
‘Ah, you realize that?’
Poirot said:
‘It is inevitable. Women willalways see a private detective! Men will tell him to go to the devil.’
‘Some women might tell him to go to the devil too.’
‘After they have seen him-not before.’
‘Perhaps.’ Lord Dittisham paused. ‘What is the idea behind this book?’
Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘One resurrects the old tunes, the old stage turns, the old costumes. One resurrects, too, the old murders.’
‘Faugh!’ said Lord Dittisham.
‘Faugh! If you like. But you will not alter human nature by saying Faugh. Murder is a drama. The desire for drama is very strong in the human race.’
Lord Dittisham murmured:
‘I know-I know…’
‘So you see,’ said Poirot, ‘the book will be written. It is my part to make sure that there shall be no gross mis-statements, no tampering with the known facts.’
‘The facts are public property I should have thought.’
‘Yes. But not the interpretation of them.’
Dittisham said sharply:
‘Just what do you mean by that, M. Poirot?’
‘My dear Lord Dittisham, there are many ways of regarding, for instance, a historical fact. Take an example: many books have been written on your Mary Queen of Scots, representing her as a martyr, as an unprincipled and wanton woman, as a rather simpleminded saint, as a murderess and an intriguer, or again as a victim of circumstance and fate! One can take one’s choice.’
‘And in this case? Crale was killed by his wife-that is, of course, undisputed.
‘It is regrettable,’ said Hercule Poirot politely.
‘I do not know quite what the result will be.’
‘I can only assure you, Lord Dittisham, that I shall be as discreet as possible, and do all I can not to distress Lady Dittisham. She is, no doubt, of a delicate and nervous temperament.’
Then, suddenly and surprisingly, the other laughed. He said:
‘Elsa? Elsa’s as strong as a horse!’
‘Then-’ Poirot paused diplomatically. The situation intrigued him.
Lord Dittisham said:
‘My wife is equal to any amount of shocks. I wonder if you know her reason for seeing you?’
Poirot replied placidly: ‘Curiosity?’
A kind of respect showed in the other man’s eyes.
‘Ah, you realize that?’
Poirot said:
‘It is inevitable. Women willalways see a private detective! Men will tell him to go to the devil.’
‘Some women might tell him to go to the devil too.’
‘After they have seen him-not before.’
‘Perhaps.’ Lord Dittisham paused. ‘What is the idea behind this book?’
Hercule Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘One resurrects the old tunes, the old stage turns, the old costumes. One resurrects, too, the old murders.’
‘Faugh!’ said Lord Dittisham.
‘Faugh! If you like. But you will not alter human nature by saying Faugh. Murder is a drama. The desire for drama is very strong in the human race.’
Lord Dittisham murmured:
‘I know-I know…’
‘So you see,’ said Poirot, ‘the book will be written. It is my part to make sure that there shall be no gross mis-statements, no tampering with the known facts.’
‘The facts are public property I should have thought.’
‘Yes. But not the interpretation of them.’
Dittisham said sharply:
‘Just what do you mean by that, M. Poirot?’
‘My dear Lord Dittisham, there are many ways of regarding, for instance, a historical fact. Take an example: many books have been written on your Mary Queen of Scots, representing her as a martyr, as an unprincipled and wanton woman, as a rather simpleminded saint, as a murderess and an intriguer, or again as a victim of circumstance and fate! One can take one’s choice.’
‘And in this case? Crale was killed by his wife-that is, of course, undisputed.