お花はんさんの おぼえた日記 - 2023年10月5日(木)

Les petits meurtres d`Agatha Christie




Christie, Dead Man's Folly

It was Miss Lemon, Poirot's efficient secretary, who took the telephone
call.

Laying aside her shorthand notebook, she raised the receiver and said
without emphasis, "Trafalgar 8137."

Hercule Poirot leaned back in his upright chair and closed his eyes.
His fingers beat a meditative soft tattoo on the edge of the table.
In his head he continued to compose the polished periods of the letter
he had been dictating.
Placing her hand over the receiver, Miss Lemon asked in a low voice:
"Will you accept a personal call from Nassecombe, Devon?"
Poirot frowned. The place meant nothing to him.
"The name of the caller?" he demanded cautiously.



Miss Lemon spoke into the mouthpiece.

"Air-raid?" she asked doubtingly. "Oh, yes - what was the last name
again?"

Once more she turned to Hercule Poirot.