Причуда мертвеца / Dead Man's Folly. Книга для чтения на английском языке

�Nice enough young women, some of ’em[9 - ’em =(зд.) them], at that hostel,’ he said; �but it’s hard to get them to understand about trespassing. Absolutely shocking the way they trespass. Don’t seem to understand that a gentleman’s place is private here. Always coming through our woods, they are, and pretending that they don’t understand what you say to them.’ He shook his head darkly.

They went on, down a steep hill through woods, then through big iron gates, and along a drive, winding up finally in front of a big white Georgian house[10 - Georgian house – дом в георгианском стиле (кирпичный дом с минимальным декором), этот стиль появился в правление короля Георга I (нач.

XVIII РІ.).] looking out over the river.

The chauffeur opened the door of the car as a tall black-haired butler appeared on the steps.

�Mr Hercule Poirot?’ murmured the latter.

�Yes.’

�Mrs Oliver is expecting you, sir. You will find her down at the Battery. Allow me to show you the way.’

Poirot was directed to a winding path that led along the wood with glimpses of the river below. The path descended gradually until it came out at last on an open space, round in shape, with a low battlemented parapet. On the parapet Mrs Oliver was sitting.

She rose to meet him and several apples fell from her lap and rolled in all directions.

Apples seemed to be an inescapable motif[11 - motif— (фр.) мотив, причина] of meeting Mrs Oliver.

�I can’t think why I always drop things,’ said Mrs Oliver somewhat indistinctly, since her mouth was full of apple. �How are you, M. Poirot?’

�Trѐs bien, chѐre Madame[12 - Trѐs bien, chѐre Madame. – (фр.) Очень хорошо, дорогая леди.],’ replied Poirot politely. �And you?’

Mrs Oliver was looking somewhat different from when Poirot had last seen her, and the reason lay, as she had already hinted over the telephone, in the fact that she had once more experimented with her coiffure[13 - coiffure – (фр.

) прическа]. The last time Poirot had seen her, she had been adopting a windswept effect. Today, her hair, richly blued, was piled upward in a multiplicity of rather artificial little curls in a pseudo Marquise style.