Читать книгу The Killings at Kingfisher Hill онлайн | страница 8

‘Not at all,’ I replied. ‘I simply noticed that she looked … disturbed and asked if she needed help. “No, thank you,” she said.’

‘Now, then, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Alfred Bixby, eager to redirect our attention to his pride and joy. ‘Is it time to reveal the luxurious interior of this brand new beauty? Why, I believe it is!’

As several people rushed forward in their eagerness to climb on board and escape the cold, I stood to one side and watched as the woman with the unfinished face backed away from the coach’s open doors as though afraid they might swallow her up. I heard Poirot’s voice behind me. ‘Let us proceed, Catchpool. I have taken enough of your English fresh air for one day. Oh—you observe la pauvre mademoiselle.’

‘What the devil is the matter with her, Poirot?’

‘I do not know, my friend. It is likely that her mental faculties are impaired.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I told him. ‘When I spoke to her, she appeared sane and lucid.’

‘In that case, she has since deteriorated.’

I walked over to her once more and said, ‘I’m terribly sorry to intrude again, but … I am quite certain that you are in need of help. My name is Edward Catchpool. I’m a police inspector with Scotland Yard, and …’

‘No!’ Her mouth contorted around the word. ‘You cannot be. It’s impossible!’ She backed away from me, knocking into the woman with the baby. She seemed aware of nothing and no one but me. The first time I had spoken to her, she had been too preoccupied by her own fears and torments to notice me. Now she seemed entirely fixated on me to the exclusion of all else. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded to know. ‘Who are you, really?’

Poirot came quickly to my defence. ‘Mademoiselle, I can assure you that it is true. Inspector Catchpool and I, we travel together. I am M. Hercule Poirot.’

His words had a visible effect. All at once, her demeanour changed. She looked around. She seemed to notice for the first time that her behaviour had attracted many avid spectators. Then she hung her head and whispered, ‘Forgive me, Inspector. Of course you are who you say you are. I don’t know what came over me.’