Агата Кристи - Hercule Poirot's Christmas / Рождество Эркюля Пуаро. Книга для чтения на английском языке

‘I mean,’ said Poirot, ‘that there is such a thing as inheritance. Simeon Lee transmitted that pride to his sons – ’

He broke off. Hilda Lee had come out of the house and was standing looking along the terrace.

‘I wanted to find you, M. Poirot.’

Superintendent Sugden had excused himself and gone back into the house. Looking after him, Hilda said: ‘I didn’t know he was with you. I thought he was with Pilar. He seems a nice man, quite considerate.’

Her voice was pleasant, a low, soothing cadence to it.

Poirot asked: ‘You wanted to see me, you say?’

She inclined her head. ‘Yes. I think you can help me.’

‘I shall be delighted to do so, madame.’

She said: ‘You are a very intelligent man, M. Poi-rot. I saw that last night. There are things which you will, I think, find out quite easily. I want you to understand my husband.’

‘Yes, madame?’

‘I shouldn’t talk like this to Superintendent Sugden. He wouldn’t understand. But you will.’

Poirot bowed. ‘You honour me, madame.’

Hilda went calmly on: ‘My husband, for many years, ever since I married him, has been what I can only describe as a mental cripple.’

‘Ah!’

‘When one suffers some great hurt physically, it causes shock and pain, but slowly it mends, the flesh heals, the bone knits. There may be, perhaps, a little weakness, a slight scar, but nothing more. My husband, M. Poirot, suffered a great hurt mentally at his most susceptible age. He adored his mother and he saw her die. He believed that his father was morally responsible for that death. From that shock he has never quite recovered. His resentment against his father never died down. It was I who persuaded David to come here this Christmas, to be reconciled to his father. I wanted it – for his sake – I wanted that mental wound to heal. I realize now that coming here was a mistake. Simeon Lee amused himself by probing into that old wound [303] amused himself by probing into that old wound – ( разг. ) развлекался, растравливая старую рану . It was – a very dangerous thing to do…’

Poirot said: ‘Are you telling me, madame, that your husband killed his father?’

‘I am telling you, M. Poirot, that he easily might have done so… And I will also tell you this – that he did not! When Simeon Lee was killed, his son was playing the Dead March . The wish to kill was in his heart. [304] The wish to kill was in his heart. – ( разг. ) Желание убить (отца) не оставляло его (всегда жило в сердце) It passed out through his fingers and died in waves of sound – that is the truth.’

Poirot was silent for a minute or two, then he said: ‘And you, madame, what is your verdict on that past drama?’

‘You mean the death of Simeon Lee’s wife?’

‘Yes.’

Hilda said slowly: ‘I know enough of life to know that you can never judge any case on its outside merits [305] you can never judge any case on its outside merits – ( разг. ) нельзя рассматривать ни один случай, судя лишь по внешним проявлениям . To all seeming, Simeon Lee was entirely to blame and his wife was abominably treated. At the same time, I honestly believe that there is a kind of meekness, a predisposition to martyrdom which does arouse the worst instincts in men of a certain type. Simeon Lee would have admired, I think, spirit and force of character. He was merely irritated by patience and tears.’

Poirot nodded. He said: ‘Your husband said last night: “My mother never complained.” Is that true?’

Hilda Lee said impatiently: ‘Of course it isn’t! She complained the whole time to David! She laid the whole burden of her unhappiness on his shoulders [306] laid the whole burden of her unhappiness on his shoulders – ( разг. ) перекладывала всю тяжесть своих несчастий на его (хрупкие) плечи . He was too young – far too young to bear all she gave him to bear!’

Poirot looked thoughtfully at her. She flushed under his gaze and bit her lip.

He said: ‘I see.’

She said sharply: ‘What do you see?’

He answered: ‘I see that you have had to be a mother to your husband when you would have preferred to be a wife.’

She turned away.

At that moment David Lee came out of the house and along the terrace towards them. He said, and his voice had a clear joyful note in it: ‘Hilda, isn’t it a glorious day? Almost like spring instead of winter.’

He came nearer. His head was thrown back, a lock of fair hair fell across his forehead, his blue eyes shone. He looked amazingly young and boyish. There was about him a youthful eagerness, a carefree radiance. Hercule Poirot caught his breath…

David said: ‘Let’s go down to the lake, Hilda.’

She smiled, put her arm through his, and they moved off together.

As Poirot watched them go, he saw her turn and give him a rapid glance. He caught a momentary glimpse of swift anxiety – or was it, he wondered, fear?

Slowly Hercule Poirot walked to the other end of the terrace. He murmured to himself: ‘As I have always said, me, I am the father confessor [307] I am the father confessor – ( ирон. ) сегодня я в роли духовника (исповедника) ! And since women come to confession more frequently than men, it is women who have come to me this morning. Will there, I wonder, be another very shortly?’

As he turned at the end of the terrace and paced back again, he knew that his question was answered. Lydia Lee was coming towards him.

Lydia said: ‘Good morning, M. Poirot. Tressilian told me I should find you out here with Harry; but I am glad to find you alone. My husband has been speaking about you. I know he is very anxious to talk to you.’

‘Ah! Yes? Shall I go and see him now?’

‘Not just yet. He got hardly any sleep last night. In the end I gave him a strong sleeping draught. He is still asleep, and I don’t want to disturb him.’

‘I quite understand. That was very wise. I could see last night that the shock had been very great.’

She said seriously: ‘You see, M. Poirot, he really cared – much more than the others.’

‘I understand.’

She asked: ‘Have you – has the superintendent – any idea of who can have done this awful thing?’

Poirot said deliberately: ‘We have certain ideas, madame, as to who did not do it.’

Lydia said, almost impatiently: ‘It’s like a nightmare – so fantastic – I can’t believe it’s real!’ She added: ‘What about Horbury? Was he really at the cinema, as he said?’

‘Yes, madame, his story has been checked. He was speaking the truth.’

Lydia stopped and plucked at a bit of yew. Her face went a little paler. She said: ‘But that’s awful! It only leaves – the family! [308] It only leaves – the family! – ( разг. ) Остаются только члены семьи! ’

‘Exactly.’

‘M. Poirot, I can’t believe it!’

‘Madame, you can and you do believe it!’

She seemed about to protest. Then suddenly she smiled ruefully.

She said: ‘What a hypocrite one is!’

He nodded. ‘If you were to be frank with me, madame,’ he said, ‘you would admit that to you it seems quite natural that one of his family should murder your father-in-law.’

Lydia said sharply: ‘That’s really a fantastic thing to say, M. Poirot!’

‘Yes, it is. But your father-in-law was a fantastic person!’