He rose briskly to his feet.
“We have no time to lose. We must make our departure with all despatch1. All is well—the sea it will be calm!”
In the bustle2 of departure, I had no time for thinking, but once on board the boat, secure from Poirot’s observation (he, as usual, was “practising the method most excellent of Laverguier”) I pulled myself together, and attacked the facts dispassionately. How much did Poirot know? Was he aware that my acquaintance of the train and Bella Duveen were one and the same? Why had he gone to the Hôtel du Phare? On my behalf as I had believed? Or had I only fatuously4 thought so, and was this visit undertaken with a deeper and more sinister5 purpose?
But in any case, why was he bent6 on finding this girl? Did he suspect her of having seen Jack7 Renauld commit the crime? Or did he suspect—but that was impossible! The girl had no grudge8 against the elder Renauld, no possible motive9 for wishing his death. What had brought her back to the scene of the murder? I went over the facts carefully. She must have left the train at Calais where I parted from her that day. No wonder I had been unable to find her on the boat. If she had dined in Calais, and then taken a train out to Merlinville, she would have arrived at the Villa10 Geneviève just about the time that Françoise said. What had she done when she left the house just after ten? Presumably either gone to an hotel, or returned to Calais. And then? The crime had been committed on Tuesday night. On Thursday morning, she was once more in Merlinville. Had she ever left France at all? I doubted it very much. What kept her there—the hope of seeing Jack Renauld? I had told her (as at the time we believed) that he was on the high seas en route to Buenos Ayres. Possibly she was aware that the Anzora had not sailed. But to know that she must have seen Jack. Was that what Poirot was after? Had Jack Renauld, returning to see Marthe Daubreuil, come face to face instead with Bella Duveen, the girl he had heartlessly thrown over?
I began to see daylight. If that were indeed the case, it might furnish Jack with the alibi11 he needed. Yet under those circumstances his silence seemed difficult to explain. Why could he not have spoken out boldly? Did he fear for this former entanglement13 of his to come to the ears of Marthe Daubreuil? I shook my head, dissatisfied. The thing had been harmless enough, a foolish boy and girl affair, and I reflected cynically14 that the son of a millionaire was not likely to be thrown over by a penniless French girl, who moreover loved him devotedly15, without a much graver cause.
Altogether I found the affair puzzling and unsatisfactory. I disliked intensely being associated with Poirot in hunting this girl down, but I could not see any way of avoiding it, without revealing everything to him, and this, for some reason, I was loath16 to do.
Poirot reappeared brisk and smiling at Dover, and our journey to London was uneventful. It was past nine o’clock when we arrived, and I supposed that we should return straight away to our rooms and do nothing till the morning. But Poirot had other plans.
“We must lose no time, mon ami. The news of the arrest will not be in the English papers until the day after tomorrow, but still we must lose no time.”
I did not quite follow his reasoning, but I merely asked how he proposed to find the girl.
“You remember Joseph Aarons, the theatrical17 agent? No? I assisted him in a little matter of a Japanese wrestler18. A pretty little problem, I must recount it to you one day. He, without doubt, will be able to put us in the way of finding out what we want to know.”
It took us some time to run Mr. Aarons to earth, and it was after midnight when we finally managed it. He greeted Poirot with every evidence of warmth, and professed19 himself ready to be of service to us in any way.
“Eh bien, M. Aarons, I desire to find a young girl called Bella Duveen.”
“Bella Duveen. I know the name, but for the moment I can’t place it. What’s her line?”
“That I do not know—but here is her photograph.”
Mr. Aarons studied it for a moment, then his face lighted.
“The Dulcibella Kids?”
“That’s it. They’re sisters. Acrobats22, dancers and singers. Give quite a good little turn. They’re in the provinces somewhere, I believe—if they’re not resting. They’ve been on in Paris for the last two or three weeks.”
“Can you find out for me exactly where they are?”
“Easy as a bird. You go home, and I’ll send you round the dope in the morning.”
With this promise we took leave of him. He was as good as his word. About eleven o’clock the following day, a scribbled23 note reached us.
“The Dulcibella Sisters are on at the Palace in Coventry. Good luck to you.”
Without more ado, we started for Coventry. Poirot made no inquiries24 at the theatre, but contented25 himself with booking stalls for the variety performance that evening.
The show was wearisome beyond words—or perhaps it was only my mood that made it seem so. Japanese families balanced themselves precariously26, would-be fashionable men, in greenish evening dress and exquisitely27 slicked hair, reeled off society patter and danced marvellously, stout28 prima donnas sang at the top of the human register, a comic comedian29 endeavoured to be Mr. George Robey and failed signally.
At last the number went up which announced the Dulcibella Kids. My heart beat sickeningly. There she was—there they both were, the pair of them, one flaxen haired, one dark, matching as to size, with short fluffy30 skirts and immense buster brown bows. They looked a pair of extremely piquant31 children. They began to sing. Their voices were fresh and true, rather thin and music-hally, but attractive.
It was quite a pretty little turn. They danced neatly32, and did some clever little acrobatic feats33. The words of their songs were crisp and catchy34. When the curtain fell, there was a full meed of applause. Evidently the Dulcibella Kids were a success.
Suddenly I felt that I could remain no longer. I must get out into the air. I suggested leaving to Poirot.
“Go by all means, mon ami. I amuse myself, and will stay to the end. I will rejoin you later.”
It was only a few steps from the theatre to the hotel. I went up to the sitting-room35, ordered a whisky and soda36, and sat drinking it, staring meditatively37 into the empty grate. I heard the door open, and turned my head, thinking it was Poirot. Then I jumped to my feet. It was Cinderella who stood in the doorway38. She spoke12 haltingly, her breath coming in little gasps39.
“I saw you in front. You and your friend. When you got up to go, I was waiting outside and followed you. Why are you here—in Coventry? What were you doing there to-night? Is the man who was with you the—the detective?”
She stood there, the cloak she had wrapped round her stage dress slipping from her shoulders. I saw the whiteness of her cheeks under the rouge40, and heard the terror in her voice. And in that moment I understood everything—understood why Poirot was seeking her, and what she feared, and understood at last my own heart. …
“Yes,” I said gently.
“Is he looking for—me?” she half whispered.
Then, as I did not answer for a moment, she slipped down by the big chair, and burst into violent, bitter weeping.
I knelt down by her, holding her in my arms, and smoothing the hair back from her face.
“Don’t cry, child, don’t cry, for God’s sake. You’re safe here. I’ll take care of you. Don’t cry, darling. Don’t cry. I know—I know everything.”
“Oh, but you don’t!”
“I think I do.” And after a moment, as her sobs41 grew quieter, I asked: “It was you who took the dagger42, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“That was why you wanted me to show you round? And why you pretended to faint?”
Again she nodded. It was a strange thought to come to me at the moment, but it shot into my mind that I was glad her motive was what it had been—rather than the idle and morbid43 curiosity I had accused her of at the time. How gallantly44 she had played her part that day, inwardly racked with fear and trepidation45 as she must have been. Poor little soul, bearing the burden of a moment’s impetuous action.
“Why did you take the dagger?” I asked presently.
She replied as simply as a child:
“I was afraid there might be finger-marks on it.”
“But didn’t you remember that you had worn gloves?”
She shook her head as though bewildered, and then said slowly:
“Are you going to give me up to—to the Police?”
“Good God! no.”
Her eyes sought mine long and earnestly, and then she asked in a little quiet voice that sounded afraid of itself:
“Why not?”
It seemed a strange place and a strange time for a declaration of love—and God knows, in all my imagining, I had never pictured love coming to me in such a guise46. But I answered simply and naturally enough:
“Because I love you, Cinderella.”
She bent her head down, as though ashamed, and muttered in a broken voice:
“You can’t—you can’t—not if you knew—” And then, as though rallying herself, she faced me squarely, and asked:
“What do you know, then?”
“I know that you came to see Mr. Renauld that night. He offered you a cheque and you tore it up indignantly. Then you left the house—” I paused.
“Go on—what next?”
“I don’t know whether you knew that Jack Renauld would be coming that night, or whether you just waited about on the chance of seeing him, but you did wait about. Perhaps you were just miserable47, and walked aimlessly—but at any rate just before twelve you were still near there, and you saw a man on the golf links—”
Again I paused. I had leapt to the truth in a flash as she entered the room, but now the picture rose before me even more convincingly. I saw vividly48 the peculiar49 pattern of the overcoat on the dead body of Mr. Renauld, and I remembered the amazing likeness50 that had startled me into believing for one instant that the dead man had risen from the dead when his son burst into our conclave51 in the salon52.
“I fancy his back was to you—but you recognized him, or thought you recognized him. The gait and the carriage were familiar to you, and the pattern of his overcoat.” I paused. “You told me in the train on the way from Paris that you had Italian blood in your veins54, and that you had nearly got into trouble once with it. You used a threat in one of your letters to Jack Renauld. When you saw him there, your anger and jealousy55 drove you mad—and you struck! I don’t believe for a minute that you meant to kill him. But you did kill him, Cinderella.”
She had flung up her hands to cover her face, and in a choked voice she said:
“You’re right … you’re right … I can see it all as you tell it.” Then she turned on me almost savagely56. “And you love me? Knowing what you do, how can you love me?”
“I don’t know,” I said a little wearily. “I think love is like that—a thing one cannot help. I have tried, I know—ever since the first day I met you. And love has been too strong for me.”
And then suddenly, when I least expected it, she broke down again, casting herself down on the floor and sobbing57 wildly.
“Oh, I can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know which way to turn. Oh, pity me, pity me, some one, and tell me what to do!”
“Don’t be afraid of me, Bella. For God’s sake don’t be afraid of me. I love you, that’s true—but I don’t want anything in return. Only let me help you. Love him still if you have to, but let me help you as he can’t.”
It was as though she had been turned to stone by my words. She raised her head from her hands and stared at me.
“You think that?” she whispered. “You think that I love Jack Renauld?”
Then, half laughing, half crying, she flung her arms passionately3 round my neck, and pressed her sweet wet face to mine.
“Not as I love you,” she whispered. “Never as I love you!”
Her lips brushed my cheek, and then, seeking my mouth, kissed me again and again with a sweetness and fire beyond belief. The wildness of it—and the wonder, I shall not forget—no, not as long as I live!
“Quick,” I said to the girl. “Get out of here. As fast as you can. I’ll hold him.”
With one look at me, she fled out of the room past us. I held Poirot in a grip of iron.
“Mon ami,” observed the latter mildly, “you do this sort of thing very well. The strong man holds me in his grasp and I am helpless as a child. But all this is uncomfortable and slightly ridiculous. Let us sit down and be calm.”
“You won’t pursue her?”
“Mon Dieu! no. Am I Giraud? Release me, my friend.”
Keeping a suspicious eye upon him, for I paid Poirot the compliment of knowing that I was no match for him in astuteness61, I relaxed my grip, and he sank into an arm-chair, feeling his arms tenderly.
“It is that you have the strength of a bull when you are roused, Hastings! Eh bien, and do you think you have behaved well to your old friend? I show you the girl’s photograph and you recognize it, but you never say a word.”
“There was no need if you knew that I recognized it,” I said rather bitterly. So Poirot had known all along! I had not deceived him for an instant.
“Ta-ta! You did not know that I knew that. And tonight you help the girl to escape when we have found her with so much trouble! Eh bien! it comes to this—are you going to work with me or against me, Hastings?”
For a moment or two I did not answer. To break with my old friend gave me great pain. Yet I must definitely range myself against him. Would he ever forgive me, I wondered? He had been strangely calm so far, but I knew him to possess marvellous self-command.
“Poirot,” I said, “I’m sorry. I admit I’ve behaved badly to you over this. But sometimes one has no choice. And in future I must take my own line.”
Poirot nodded his head several times.
“I understand,” he said. The mocking light had quite died out of his eyes, and he spoke with a sincerity62 and kindness that surprised me. “It is that, my friend, is it not? It is love that has come—not as you imagined it, all cock a hoop63 with fine feathers, but sadly, with bleeding feet. Well, well—I warned you. When I realized that this girl must have taken the dagger, I warned you. Perhaps you remember. But already it was too late. But, tell me, how much do you know?”
I met his eyes squarely.
“Nothing that you could tell me would be any surprise to me, Poirot. Understand that. But in case you think of resuming your search for Miss Duveen, I should like you to know one thing clearly. If you have any idea that she was concerned in the crime, or was the mysterious lady who called upon Mr. Renauld that night, you are wrong. I travelled home from France with her that day, and parted from her at Victoria that evening so that it is clearly impossible for her to have been in Merlinville.”
“Ah!” Poirot looked at me thoughtfully. “And you would swear to that in a court of law?”
“Most certainly I would.”
Poirot rose and bowed.
“Mon ami! Vive l’amour! It can perform miracles. It is decidedly ingenious what you have thought of there. It defeats even Hercule Poirot!”
作者的其它作品
斯泰尔斯庄园奇案 The Mysterious Affair at Styles
作者的其它作品
斯泰尔斯庄园奇案 The Mysterious Affair at Styles
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
despatch
|
|
| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
fatuously
|
|
| adv.愚昧地，昏庸地，蠢地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
grudge
|
|
| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
alibi
|
|
| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
entanglement
|
|
| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
cynically
|
|
| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
devotedly
|
|
| 专心地； 恩爱地； 忠实地； 一心一意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
loath
|
|
| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
theatrical
|
|
| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
wrestler
|
|
| n.摔角选手，扭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
professed
|
|
| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
genially
|
|
| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
thigh
|
|
| n.大腿；股骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
acrobats
|
|
| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
scribbled
|
|
| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
inquiries
|
|
| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
precariously
|
|
| adv.不安全地；危险地；碰机会地；不稳定地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
exquisitely
|
|
| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
comedian
|
|
| n.喜剧演员；滑稽演员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
fluffy
|
|
| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
piquant
|
|
| adj.辛辣的，开胃的，令人兴奋的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
feats
|
|
| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
catchy
|
|
| adj.易记住的，诡诈的，易使人上当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
meditatively
|
|
| adv.冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
gasps
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
rouge
|
|
| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
dagger
|
|
| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
morbid
|
|
| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
trepidation
|
|
| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
guise
|
|
| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
likeness
|
|
| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
conclave
|
|
| n.秘密会议，红衣主教团 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
salon
|
|
| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
steadily
|
|
| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
savagely
|
|
| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
soothing
|
|
| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
pinioned
|
|
| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
astuteness
|
|
| n.敏锐；精明；机敏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
sincerity
|
|
| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
hoop
|
|
| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |