V
“Deliver me, O Lord, from the evil man: and preserve me from the wicked man,” sang Mrs.
Olivera in a firm voice, slightly off the note.
There was a relentlessness¹ about her enunciation² of the sentiment which made Hercule Poirot
deduce that Mr. Howard Raikes was the wicked man immediately in her mind.
Hercule Poirot had accompanied his host and the family to the morning service in the village
church.
Howard Raikes had said with a faint sneer³: “So you always go to church, Mr. Blunt?”
And Alistair had murmured vaguely⁴ something about it being expected of you in the country—
can’t let the parson down, you know—which typically English sentiment had merely bewildered
the young man, and had made Hercule Poirot smile comprehendingly.
Mrs. Olivera had tactfully accompanied her host and commanded Jane to do likewise.
“They have sharpened their tongues like a serpent,” sang the choir⁵ boys in shrill⁶ treble,
“adder’s poison is under their lips.”
The tenors⁷ and basses⁸ demanded with gusto:
“Keep me, O Lord, from the hands of the ungodly. Preserve me from the wicked men who are
purposed to overthrow⁹ my goings.”
Hercule Poirot essayed in a hesitant baritone.
“The proud have laid a snare¹⁰ for me,” he sang, “and spread a net with cords: yea, and set
traps in my way….”
His mouth remained open.
He saw it—saw clearly the trap into which he had so nearly fallen!

分享到：