Читать книгу Ten Little Niggers / Десять негритят - Агата Кристи, Agatha Christie, Detection Club The - Страница 17

Mr. Justice Wargrave thought to himself:

“Armstrong? Remember him in the witness box. Very correct and cautious. All doctors are damned fools. Harley Street ones are the worst of them.” And in his mind he returned to a recent interview he had had with a suave personage in that very street.

Aloud he grunted:

“Drinks are in the hall.”

Dr. Armstrong said he wanted first to pay his respects to the host and hostess.

The judge said:

“No host and hostess. Very curious state of affairs. Don’t understand this place.”

Dr. Armstrong stared at him for a minute. When he thought the old gentleman had actually gone to sleep, Wargrave said suddenly:

“D’you know Constance Culmington?”

“Er – no, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“It’s not important,” said the judge. “Very vague woman – and practically unreadable handwriting. I was just wondering if I’d come to the wrong house.”

Dr. Armstrong shook his head and went on up to the house.

In his mind, Mr. Justice Wargrave turned to the two women in the house, the tight-lipped spinster and the girl. He didn’t care for the girl, heartless young hussy. No, three women, if you counted the Rogers woman. Queer creature, she looked frightened to death. Respectable pair and knew their job…

At that moment, Rogers came out on the terrace and the judge asked him:

“Is Lady Constance Culmington expected, do you know?” Rogers stared at him.

“No, sir, not to my knowledge.”

The judge’s eyebrows rose. But he only grunted.

He thought:

“Nigger Island, eh? There’s a nigger in the woodpile[16].”