They Do It With Mirrors - Christie Agatha (читать хорошую книгу полностью txt) 📗

Carefully, he and the doctor lifted out chocolate after chocolate and examined them.

'I think,' said Dr Maverick, 'that these ones I have put aside have almost certainly been tampered with. You see the unevenness of the chocolate coating underneath? The next thing to do is to get them analysed.'

'But it seems incredible,' said Miss Marple. 'Why, everyone in the house might have been poisoned?

Lewis nodded. His face was still white and hard.

'Yes. There is a ruthlessness - a disregard -' he broke off. 'Actually I think all these particular chocolates are Kirsch flavouring. That is Caroline's favourite. So, you see, there is knowledge behind this.'

Miss Marple said quietly:

'If it is as you suspect - if there is - poison - in these chocolates, then I'm afraid Carrie Louise will have to know what is going on. She must be put upon her guard.' Lewis Serrocold said heavily:

'Yes. She will have to know that someone wants to kill her. I think that she will find it almost impossible to believe.'

Chapter 16

"Ere, Miss. Is it true as there's an 'ideous poisoner at work?'

Gina pushed the hair back from her forehead and jumped as the hoarse whisper reached her. There was paint on her cheek and paint on her slacks. She and her selected helpers had been busy on the backcloth of the Nile at Sunset for their next theatrical production.

It was one of these helpers who was now asking the question. Ernie, the boy who had given her such valuable lessons in the manipulation of locks. Ernie's fingers were equally dexterous at stage carpentry, and he was one of the most enthusiastic theatrical assistants.

His eyes now were bright and beady with pleasurable anticipation.

Ernie shut one eye.

'It's all round the dorms,' he said. 'But look 'ere, Miss, it wasn't one of us. Not a thing like that. And nobody wouldn't do a thing to Mrs Serrocold. Even Jenkins wouldn't cosh her. 'Tisn't as though it was the old bitch.

Wouldn't 'alf like to poison 'er, I wouldn't.'

'Don't talk like that about Miss Believer.'

'Sorry, Miss. It slipped out. What poison was it, Miss?

Strickline, was it? Makes you arch your back and die in agonies, that does. Or was it Prussian acid?'

'I don't know what you're talking about, Ernie.' Ernie winked again.

'Not 'alfyou don't! Mr Alex it was done it, so they say.

Brought them chocs down from London. But that's a lie.

Mr Alex wouldn't do a thing like that, would he, Miss?' 'Of course he wouldn't,' said Gina.

'Much more likely to be Mr Baumgarten. When he's giving us P.T. he makes the most awful faces, and Don and I think as he's batty.'

'Just move that turpentine out of the way.'

Ernie obeyed, murmuring to himself:

'Don't 'arf see life 'ere! Old Gulbrandsen done in yesterday and now a secret poisoner. D'you think it's the same person doing both? What 'ud you say, Miss, if I told you as I know oo it was done 'im in?'

'You can't possibly know anything about it.'

'Coo, carn't I neither? Supposin' I was outside last night and aw something.'

'How could you have been out? The College is locked up after roll call at seven.'

'Roll call… I can get out whenever I likes, Miss. Locks don't mean nothing to me. Get out and walk around the grounds just for the fun of it, I do.'

Gina said:

'I wish you'd stop telling lies, Ernie.'

'Who's telling lies?'

'You are. You tell lies and you boast about things that you've never done at all.'

'That's what you say, Miss. You wait till the coppers come round and arsk me all about what I saw last night.' 'Well, what did you see?'

'Ah,' said Ernie, 'wouldn't you like to know?'

Gina made a rush at him and he beat a strategic retreat.

Stephen came over from the other side of the theatre and joined Gina. They discussed various tehnical matters and then, side by side, they walked back towards the house.

'Is this about the place where you stopped your car last night?' he asked.

Alex Restarick stood back a little as though considering.

'Near enough,' he said. 'It's difficult to tell exactly because of the fog. Yes, I should say this was the place.'

Inspector Curry stood looking round with an apprais ing eye.

The gravelled sweep of drive swept round in a slow curve, and at this point, emerging from a screen of rhododendrons, the west facade of the house came suddenly into view with its terrace and yew hedges and steps leading down to the lawns. Thereafter the drive continued in its curving progress, sweeping through a belt of trees and round between the lake and the house until it ended in the big gravel sweep at the east side of the house.

'Dodgett,' said Inspector Curry.

Police Constable Dodgett, who had been holding himself at the ready, started spasmodically into motion.

He hurled himself across the intervening space of lawn in a diagonal line towards the house, reached the terrace, went in by the side door. A few moments later the curtains of one of the windows were violently agitated.

Then Constable Dodgett reappeared out of the garden door, and ran back to rejoin them, breathing like a steam engine.

'Two minutes and forty-two seconds,' said Inspector Curry, clicking the stop watch with which he had been timing him. 'They don't take long, these things, do they?' His tone was pleasantly conversational.

'I don't run as fast as your constable,' said Alex. 'I presume it is my supposed movements you have been timing?' 'I'm just pointing out that you hact the opportunity to do murder. That's all, Mr Restarick. I'm not making any accusations - as yet.' Alex Restarick said kindly to Constable Dodgett, who was still panting: 'I can't run as fast as you can, but I believe I'm in better training.' 'It's since 'having the bronchitis last winter,' said Dodgett.

Alex turned back to the Inspector.

'Seriously, though, in spite of crying to make me uncomfortable and observing my reactions - and you must remember that we artistic folk are oh! so sensitive, such tender plants? - his voice took on a mocking note 'you can't really believe I had anythirg to do with all this?

I'd hardly send a box of poisoned chocolates to Mrs Serrocold and put my card inside, would I?' 'That might be what we are meatat to think. There's such a thing as a double bluff, Mr lestarick.' 'Oh, I see. How ingenious you ar. By the way, those chocolates were poisoned?' 'The six chocolates containing Kirsch flavouring in the top layer were poisoned, yes. They contained aconitine.' 'Not one of my favourite poisons, Inspector. Personally, I have a weakness for curare.' 'Curare has to be introduced into tlae bloodstream, Mr Restarick,'not into the stomach.' 'How wonderfully knowledgeable the police force are,' said Alex admiringly.

Inspector Curry cast a quiet sideways glance at the young man. He noted the slightly pointed ears, the unEnglish Mongolian type of face. The eyes that danced with mischievous mockery. It would have been hard at any time to know what Alex Restarick was thinking. A satyr - or did he mean a faun? An overfed faun, Inspector Curry thought suddenly, and somehow there was an unpleasantness about that idea.

A twister with brains - that's how he would sum up Alex Restarick. Cleverer than his brother. Mother had been a Russian or so he had heard. 'Russians' to Inspector Curry were what 'Bony' had been in the early days of the nineteenth century, and what 'the Huns' had been in the early twentieth century. Anything to do with Russia was bad in Inspector Curry's opinion, and if Alex Restarick had murdered Gulbrandsen he would be a very satisfactory criminal. But unfortunately Curry was by no means convinced that he had.

Constable Dodgett, having recovered his breath, now spoke.