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

Yet it is strange. But no matter!’

And, with a characteristic shrug, he dismissed whatever it was that was worrying him from his mind. I could have told him from the beginning that this obsession of his over the coffee was bound to end in a blind alley[90 - this obsession of his over the coffee was bound to end in a blind alley – эта одержимость кофе заведет его в тупик], but I restrained my tongue. After all, though he was old, Poirot had been a great man in his day.

‘Breakfast is ready,’ said John Cavendish, coming in from the hall. ‘You will breakfast with us, Monsieur Poirot?’

Poirot acquiesced. I observed John. Already he was almost restored to his normal self. The shock of the events of the last night had upset him temporarily, but his equable poise soon swung back to the normal. He was a man of very little imagination, in sharp contrast with his brother, who had, perhaps, too much.

Ever since the early hours of the morning, John had been hard at work, sending telegrams—one of the first had gone to Evelyn Howard—writing notices for the papers, and generally occupying himself with the melancholy duties that a death entails.

‘May I ask how things are proceeding?’ he said. ‘Do your investigations point to my mother having died a natural death—or—or must we prepare ourselves for the worst?’

‘I think, Mr Cavendish,’ said Poirot gravely, ‘that you would do well not to buoy yourself up with any false hopes[91 - you would do well not to buoy yourself up with any false hopes – вам лучше не тешить себя пустыми надеждами].

‘My brother Lawrence is convinced that we are making a fuss over nothing. He says that everything points to its being a simple case of heart failure.’

‘He does, does he? That is very interesting—very interesting,’ murmured Poirot softly.

A faint cloud passed over John’s face.

‘I have not the least idea what my wife’s views on the subject are.’

The answer brought a momentary stiffness in its train. John broke the rather awkward silence by saying with a slight effort:

‘I told you, didn’t I, that Mr Inglethorp has returned?’

Poirot bent his head.

‘It’s an awkward position for all of us.