Загадочное происшествие в Стайлзе / The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Книга для чтения на английском языке.

It is a matter of precaution only.’

John turned to me, taking out his cigarette-case, and lighting a cigarette as he did so.

‘You know that fellow Inglethorp is back?’

‘Yes. I met him.’

John flung the match into an adjacent flower bed, a proceeding which was too much for Poirot’s feelings. He retrieved it, and buried it neatly.

‘It’s jolly difficult to know how to treat him.

‘That difficulty will not exist long,’ pronounced Poirot quietly.

John looked puzzled, not quite understanding the portent of this cryptic saying.

‘Show Monsieur Poirot everything he wants to see.’

‘The rooms are locked?’ asked Poirot.

‘Dr Bauerstein considered it advisable.’

Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

‘Then he is very sure. Well, that simplifies matters for us.’

We went up together to the room of the tragedy. For convenience I append a plan of the room and the principal articles of furniture in it.

MRS. INGLETHORP’S BEDROOM

A.

B.—Door into Mr. Inglethorp’s Room.

C.—Door into Cynthia’s Room

Poirot locked the door on the inside, and proceeded to a minute inspection of the room. He darted from one object to the other with the agility of a grasshopper[67 - with the agility of a grasshopper – с ловкостью кузнечика]. I remained by the door, fearing to obliterate any clues. Poirot, however, did not seem grateful to me for my forbearance.

‘What have you, my friend?’ he cried, ‘that you remain there like—how do you say it?—ah, yes, the stuck pig?’

I explained that I was afraid of obliterating any footmarks.

‘Footmarks? But what an idea! There has already been practically an army in the room! What footmarks are we likely to find? No, come here and aid me in my search. I will put down my little case until I need it.’

He did so, on the round table by the window, but it was an ill-advised proceeding; for, the top of it being loose, it tilted up, and precipitated the dispatch case on to the floor.

‘En voil? une table![68 - En voil? une table! – (фр.) Ну и стол!]’ cried Poirot. ‘Ah, my friend, one may live in a big house and yet have no comfort.’

After which piece of moralizing, he resumed his search.

A small purple dispatch case, with a key in the lock, on the writing table, engaged his attention for some time. He took out the key from the lock, and passed it to me to inspect. I saw nothing peculiar, however.