| |||||
|
Chapter Twenty-two
“You quite understand your position, Miss Hobhouse. I have already warned you—”
Valerie Hobhouse cut him short.
“I know what I’m doing. You’ve warned me what I say will be used in evidence. I’m prepared
for that. You’ve got me on the smuggling charge. I haven’t got a hope. That means a long term of
imprisonment. This other means that I’ll be charged as an accessory to murder.”
“Your being willing to make a statement may help you, but I can’t make any promise or hold
out any inducement.”
“I don’t know that I care. Just as well end it all as languish in prison for years. I want to make a
statement. I may be what you call an accessory, but I’m not a killer. I never intended murder or
wanted it. I’m not such a fool. What I do want is that there should be a clear case against Nigel. . .
.
“Celia knew far too much, but I could have dealt with that somehow. Nigel didn’t give me time.
He got her to come out and meet him, told her that he was going to own up to the rucksack and the
ink business and then slipped her the morphia in a cup of coffee. He’d got hold of her letter to Mrs.
Hubbard earlier on and had torn out a useful ‘suicide’ phrase. He put that and the empty morphia
phial (which he had retrieved after pretending to throw it away) by her bed. I see now that he’d
been contemplating murder for quite a little time. Then he came and told me what he’d done. For
my own sake I had to stand in with him.
“The same thing must have happened with Mrs. Nick. He’d found out that she drank, that she
was getting unreliable—he managed to meet her somewhere on her way home, and poisoned her
drink. He denied it to me—but I know that that’s what he did. Then came Pat. He came up to my
room and told me what had happened. He told me what I’d got to do—so that both he and I would
have an unbreakable alibi. I was in the net by then, there was no way out . . . I suppose, if you
hadn’t caught me, I’d have got away abroad somewhere, and made a new life for myself. But you
did catch me . . . And now I only care about one thing—to make sure that that cruel smiling devil
gets hanged.”
Inspector Sharpe drew a deep breath. All this was eminently satisfactory, it was an unbelievable
piece of luck; but he was puzzled.
The constable licked his pencil.
“I’m not sure that I quite understand,” began Sharpe.
She cut him short.
“You don’t need to understand. I’ve got my reasons.”
Hercule Poirot spoke very gently.
“Mrs. Nicoletis?” he asked.
He heard the sharp intake of her breath.
“She was—your mother, was she not?”
“Yes,” said Valerie Hobhouse. “She was my mother. . . .”
|
|||||
上一篇：山核桃大街谋杀案（22） 下一篇：阿加莎 |
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>
