ABC谋杀案 26

Twenty-three,SEPTEMBER 11TH. DONCASTER,Doncaster!,I shall, I think, remember that 11th of September all my life.,Indeed, whenever I see a mention of the St. Leger my mind flies automatically not to horseracing but to murder.,When I recall my own sensations, the thing that stands out most is a sickening sense ofinsufficiency. We were here—on the spot—Poirot, myself, Clarke, Fraser, Megan Barnard, ThoraGrey and Mary Drower, and in the last resort what could any of us do?,The odds were in reality greater than that. Of us all, the only person likely to make such arecognition was Thora Grey.,Some of her serenity had broken down under the strain. Her calm, efficient manner was gone.,She sat twisting her hands together, almost weeping, appealing incoherently to Poirot.,“I never really looked at him…Why didn’t I? What a fool I was. You’re depending on me, all ofyou…and I shall let you down. Because even if I did see him again I mightn’t recognize him. I’vegot a bad memory for faces.”,Poirot, whatever he might say to me, and however harshly he might seem to criticize the girl,showed nothing but kindness now. His manner was tender in the extreme. It struck me that Poirotwas no more indifferent to beauty in distress than I was.,