JК
The Case of the Velvet Claws :: Гарднер Эрл Стенли
Страница: 58 из 149”
She poured coffee into the container, put water in the percolator, walked over to the gas stove, lit the gas, looked at the percolator for a moment, then walked with her peculiar, flatfooted gait back to the chair, sat down, folded her hands on her lap, and lowered her eyes so that she was staring at the top of the table. She continued to stare there in fixed intensity.
Norma Veitch looked up at Perry Mason. “My,” she said, “it was horrible. Wasn’t it?”
Mason nodded, remarked casually, “You didn’t hear the shot, I presume?”
The girl shook her head.
“No, I was sound asleep. In fact, I didn’t wake up until after the officers came. They got Mother up, and I guess they didn’t know that I was sleeping in the adjoining room. They wanted to look through Mother’s room while she was upstairs, I guess. Anyway, the first thing I knew, I woke up and there was a man standing by the bed looking down at me.”
She lowered her eyes and tittered slightly.
One gathered that she had not found the experience unpleasant.
“What happened?” asked Mason.
“They acted as though they thought they had discovered the nigger in the woodpile,” she said. “They made me put on clothes and wouldn’t even let me out of their sight while I was dressing. They took me upstairs, and gave me what they call a third degree, I guess.”
“What did you tell them?” asked Mason.
“Told them the truth,” she said, “that I went to bed and went to sleep, and woke up to find somebody staring down at me.” She seemed rather pleased as she added, “They didn’t believe me.”
Her mother sat at the table, hands folded on her lap, eyes staring steadily in fixed intensity at the center of the table.
“And you didn’t hear anything, or see anything?” asked Perry Mason.
“Not a thing.”
“Have you any ideas about it?”
She shook her head.
“None that would bear repeating.”
He glanced at her sharply.
“Have you any that wouldn’t bear repeating?” he inquired.
She nodded her head.
“Of course, I’ve only been around here a week or so, but in that time…”
“Norma!” said her mother, in a voice which had suddenly lost its dry huskiness and cracked like the lash of a whip.
The girl lapsed into abrupt silence.
Perry Mason glanced at the older woman. She had not so much as raised her eyes from the table when she spoke.
“Did you hear anything, Mrs. Veitch?” he asked.
“I am a servant. I hear nothing, and I see nothing.
She poured coffee into the container, put water in the percolator, walked over to the gas stove, lit the gas, looked at the percolator for a moment, then walked with her peculiar, flatfooted gait back to the chair, sat down, folded her hands on her lap, and lowered her eyes so that she was staring at the top of the table. She continued to stare there in fixed intensity.
Norma Veitch looked up at Perry Mason. “My,” she said, “it was horrible. Wasn’t it?”
Mason nodded, remarked casually, “You didn’t hear the shot, I presume?”
The girl shook her head.
“No, I was sound asleep. In fact, I didn’t wake up until after the officers came. They got Mother up, and I guess they didn’t know that I was sleeping in the adjoining room. They wanted to look through Mother’s room while she was upstairs, I guess. Anyway, the first thing I knew, I woke up and there was a man standing by the bed looking down at me.”
She lowered her eyes and tittered slightly.
One gathered that she had not found the experience unpleasant.
“What happened?” asked Mason.
“They acted as though they thought they had discovered the nigger in the woodpile,” she said. “They made me put on clothes and wouldn’t even let me out of their sight while I was dressing. They took me upstairs, and gave me what they call a third degree, I guess.”
“What did you tell them?” asked Mason.
“Told them the truth,” she said, “that I went to bed and went to sleep, and woke up to find somebody staring down at me.” She seemed rather pleased as she added, “They didn’t believe me.”
Her mother sat at the table, hands folded on her lap, eyes staring steadily in fixed intensity at the center of the table.
“And you didn’t hear anything, or see anything?” asked Perry Mason.
“Not a thing.”
“Have you any ideas about it?”
She shook her head.
“None that would bear repeating.”
He glanced at her sharply.
“Have you any that wouldn’t bear repeating?” he inquired.
She nodded her head.
“Of course, I’ve only been around here a week or so, but in that time…”
“Norma!” said her mother, in a voice which had suddenly lost its dry huskiness and cracked like the lash of a whip.
The girl lapsed into abrupt silence.
Perry Mason glanced at the older woman. She had not so much as raised her eyes from the table when she spoke.
“Did you hear anything, Mrs. Veitch?” he asked.
“I am a servant. I hear nothing, and I see nothing.