At the Gothic House, Poirot was received by a secretary, a tall, limp young man with an
accomplished1 social manner.
He was pleasantly apologetic.
“I am so sorry, M. Poirot—and so is Mr. Blunt. He has been called to Downing Street. The
result of this—er—incident last night. I rang your flat, but unfortunately you had already left.”
The young man went on rapidly:
“Mr. Blunt commissioned me to ask you if it would be possible for you to spend the weekend
with him at his house in Kent. Exsham, you know. If so, he would call for you in the car tomorrow
evening.”
Poirot hesitated.
The young man said persuasively2:
“Mr. Blunt is really most anxious to see you.”
Hercule Poirot bowed his head.
He said: “Thank you. I accept.”
“Oh, that’s splendid. Mr. Blunt will be delighted. If he calls for you about a quarter to six, will
that—Oh, good morning, Mrs. Olivera—”
Jane Olivera’s mother had just entered. She was very smartly dressed, with a hat clinging to an
eyebrow3 in the midst of a very soignée coiffure.
“Oh! Mr. Selby, did Mr. Blunt give you any instructions about those garden chairs? I meant to
talk to him about them last night, because I knew we’d be going down this weekend and—”
Mrs. Olivera took in Poirot and paused.
“Do you know Mrs. Olivera, M. Poirot?”
“I have already had the pleasure of meeting Madame.”
Poirot bowed.
Mrs. Olivera said vaguely4:
“Oh? How do you do. Of course, Mr. Selby, I know that Alistair is a very busy man and that
these small domestic matters mayn’t seem to him important—”
“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Olivera,” said the efficient Mr. Selby. “He told me about it and I rang
up Messrs Deevers about them.”
“Well, now, that’s a real load off my mind. Now, Mr. Selby, can you tell me …”
Mrs. Olivera clacked on. She was, thought Poirot, rather like a hen. A big, fat hen! Mrs.
Olivera, still clacking, moved majestically5 after her bust6 towards the door.
“ … And if you’re quite sure that there will only be ourselves this weekend—”
Mr. Selby coughed.
“Er—M. Poirot is also coming down for the weekend.”
Mrs. Olivera stopped. She turned round and surveyed Poirot with visible distaste.
“Is that really so?”
“Mr. Blunt has been kind enough to invite me,” said Poirot.
“Well, I wonder—why, if that isn’t queer of Alistair. You’ll excuse me, M. Poirot, but Mr.
Blunt particularly told me that he wanted a quiet, family weekend!”
Selby said firmly:
“Mr. Blunt is particularly anxious that M. Poirot should come.”
“Oh really? He didn’t mention it to me.”
The door opened. Jane stood there. She said impatiently:
“Mother, aren’t you coming? Our lunch appointment is at one fifteen!”
“I’m coming, Jane. Don’t be impatient.”
“Well, get a move on, for goodness sake—Hallo, M. Poirot.”
She was suddenly very still—her petulance7 frozen. Her eyes more wary8.
Mrs. Olivera said in a cold voice:
“M. Poirot is coming down to Exsham for the weekend.”
“Oh—I see.”
Jane Olivera stood back to let her mother pass her. On the point of following her, she whirled
back again.
“M. Poirot!”
Her voice was imperious.
Poirot crossed the room to her.
She said in a low voice: “You’re coming down to Exsham? Why?”
Poirot shrugged9 his shoulders. He said:
“It is a kind thought of your uncle’s.”
Jane said:
“But he can’t know … He can’t … When did he ask you? Oh, there’s no need—”
“Jane!”
Her mother was calling from the hall.
Jane said in a low, urgent tone:
“Stay away. Please don’t come.”
She went out. Poirot heard the sounds of altercation10. Heard Mrs. Olivera’s high, complaining,
clucking voice. “I really will not tolerate your rudeness, Jane … I shall take steps to see that you
do not interfere—”
The secretary said:
“Then at a little before six tomorrow, M. Poirot?”
Poirot nodded assent11 mechanically. He was standing12 like a man who has seen a ghost. But it
was his ears, not his eyes, that had given him the shock.
Two of the sentences that had drifted in through the open door were almost identical with those
he had heard last night through the telephone, and he knew why the voice had been faintly
familiar.
As he walked out into the sunshine he shook his head blankly.
Mrs. Olivera?
But it was impossible! It could not have been Mrs. Olivera who had spoken over the ’phone!
That empty-headed society woman—selfish, brainless, grasping, self-centred? What had he
called her to himself just now?
“That good fat hen? C’est ridicule13!” said Hercule Poirot.
His ears, he decided14, must have deceived him. And yet—
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收听单词发音
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1
accomplished
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adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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2
persuasively
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adv.口才好地;令人信服地 | |
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3
eyebrow
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n.眉毛,眉 | |
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4
vaguely
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adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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5
majestically
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雄伟地; 庄重地; 威严地; 崇高地 | |
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6
bust
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vt.打破;vi.爆裂;n.半身像;胸部 | |
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7
petulance
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n.发脾气,生气,易怒,暴躁,性急 | |
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8
wary
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adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
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9
shrugged
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vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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10
altercation
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n.争吵,争论 | |
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11
assent
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v.批准,认可;n.批准,认可 | |
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12
standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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13
ridicule
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v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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14
decided
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adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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