Агата Кристи - Dumb Witness / Безмолвный свидетель. Книга для чтения на английском языке

‘You comprehend—I am going to speak to you quite frankly. My mother, she is difficult. We have had some excellent nurses, young women, fully competent, but the very fact that they are young has been against them. My mother dislikes young women, she insults them, she is rude and fractious, she fights against open windows and modern hygiene. It is very difficult.’

He sighed mournfully.

‘I know,’ said Nurse Carruthers sympathetically. ‘It’s very trying sometimes. One has to use a lot of tact. It’s no use upsetting a patient. Better to give in to them as far as you can. And once they feel you’re not trying to force things on them, they very often relax and give in like lambs.’

‘Ah, I see that you would be ideal in the part. You understand old ladies.’

‘I’ve had to do with a few in my time,’ said Nurse Carruthers with a laugh. ‘You can do a lot with patience and good-humour.’

‘That is so wise. You nursed Miss Arundell, I believe. Now, she could not have been an easy old lady.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. She was strong willed, but I didn’t find her difficult at all. Of course, I wasn’t there any length of time. She died on the fourth day.’

‘I was talking to her niece, Miss Theresa Arundell, only yesterday.’

‘Really. Fancy that now! What I always say is—the world’s a small place!’

‘You know her, I expect?’

‘Well, of course, she came down after her aunt’s death and she was here for the funeral. And, of course, I’ve seen her about before when she’s been staying down here. A very handsome girl.’

‘Yes, indeed—but too thin—definitely too thin.’

Nurse Carruthers, conscious of her own comfortable plumpness, preened herself slightly.

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘one shouldn’t be too thin.’

‘Poor girl,’ continued Poirot. ‘I am sorry for her. Entre nous [488] Entre nous – (фр.) Между нами ,’ he leaned forward confidentially, ‘her aunt’s will was a great blow.’

‘I suppose it must have been,’ said Nurse Carruthers. ‘I know it caused a good deal of talk.’’

‘I cannot imagine what induced Miss Arundell to disinherit all her family. It seems an extraordinary procedure.’

‘Most extraordinary. I agree with you. And, of course, people say there must have been something behind it all.’

‘Did you ever get any idea of the reason ? Did old Miss Arundell say anything?’

‘No. Not to me, that is.’

‘But to somebody else?’

‘Well, I rather fancy she mentioned something to Miss Lawson because I heard Miss Lawson say, “Yes, dear, but you see it’s at the lawyer’s.” And Miss Arundell said, “I’m sure it’s in the drawer downstairs.” And Miss Lawson said, “No, you sent it to Mr Purvis. Don’t you remember?” And then my patient had an attack of nausea again and Miss Lawson went away while I saw to her, but I’ve often wondered if it was the will they were talking about.’

‘It certainly seems probable.’

Nurse Carruthers went on:

‘If so, I expect Miss Arundell was worried and perhaps wanted to alter it—but there, she was so ill, poor dear, after that—that she was past thinking of anything.’

‘Did Miss Lawson take part in the nursing at all?’ asked Poirot.

‘Oh, dear no, she was no manner of good! Too fussy, you know. She only irritated my patient.’

‘Did you, then, do all the nursing yourself? С’est formidable ça.’ [489] C’est formidable ça. – (фр.) Это великолепно.

‘The maid—what was her name—Ellen, helped me. Ellen was very good. She was used to [490] to be used to – быть привыкшим illness and used to looking after the old lady. We managed pretty well between us. As a matter of fact, Dr Grainger was sending in a night nurse on the Friday, but Miss Arundell died before the night nurse arrived.’

‘Perhaps Miss Lawson helped to prepare some of the invalid’s food?’

‘No, she didn’t do anything at all. There wasn’t really anything to prepare. I had the Valentine and the brandy—and the Brand’s and glucose and all that. All Miss Lawson did was to go about the house crying and getting in everyone’s way. [491] to get in smb’s way – путаться под ногами у к.-л. ’

The nurse’s tone held distinct acrimony.

‘I can see,’ said Poirot smiling, ‘that you have not a very high opinion of Miss Lawson’s usefulness.’

‘Companions are usually a poor lot, in my opinion. They’re not trained, you see, in any way. Just amateurs. And usually they’re women who wouldn’t be any good at anything else.’

‘Do you think Miss Lawson was very attached to Miss Arundell?’

‘She seemed to be. Very upset and took on [492] to take in – (разг.) расстраиваться terribly when the old lady died. More than the relatives did, in my opinion,’ Nurse Carruthers finished with a sniff.

‘Perhaps, then,’ said Poirot nodding his head sagely, ‘Miss Arundell knew what she was doing when she left her money as she did.’

‘She was a very shrewd old lady,’ said the nurse. ‘There wasn’t much she didn’t take in and know about, I must say!’

‘Did she mention the dog, Bob, at all?’

‘It’s funny you should say that! She talked about him a lot—when she was delirious. Something about his ball and a fall she’d had. A nice dog, Bob was—I’m very fond of dogs. Poor fellow, he was very miserable when she died. Wonderful, aren’t they? Quite human.’

And on the note of the humanity of dogs, we parted.

‘There is one who had clearly no suspicions,’ remarked Poirot after we had left.

He sounded slightly discouraged.

We had a bad dinner at the George—Poirot groaning a good deal, especially over the soup.

‘And it is so easy, Hastings, to make good soup. Le pot au feu [493] Le pot au feu – (фр.) Вареная говядина с овощами —’

I avoided a disquisition on cookery with some difficulty.

After dinner we had a surprise.

We were sitting in the ‘lounge’ which we had to ourselves. There had been one other man at dinner—a commercial traveller [494] a commercial traveller – (уст.) коммивояжер by his appearance—but he had gone out. I was just idly turning over the pages of an antiquated Stock Breeder’s Gazette or some such periodical when I suddenly heard Poirot’s name being mentioned.

The voice in question was somewhere outside.

‘Where is he? In here? Right—I can find him.’

The door was flung violently open, and Dr Grainger, his face rather red, his eyebrows working irritably, strode into the room. He paused to close the door and then advanced upon us in no uncertain fashion.

‘Oh, here you are! Now then, M. Hercule Poirot, what the devil do you mean by coming round to see me and telling me a pack of lies?’

‘One of the juggler’s balls?’ I murmured maliciously.

Poirot said in his oiliest voice:

‘My dear doctor, you must allow me to explain—’

‘Allow you? Allow you? Damn it, I’ll force you to explain! You’re a detective, that’s what you are! A nosing, prying detective! Coming round to me and feeding me up with a pack of lies about writing old General Arundell’s biography! More fool me to be taken in by such a damn’ fool story.’

‘Who told you of my identity?’ asked Poirot.

‘Who told me? Miss Peabody told me. She saw through you all right!’