"One can easily see that this is the library of Simon Harlowe, the collector," he said. "I have always thought that if one only had the time to study and compare the books which a man buys and reads, one would more surely get the truth of him than in any other way. But alas1! one never has the time." He turned towards Jim Frobisher regretfully. "Come and stand with me, Monsieur Frobisher. For even a glance at the backs of them tells one something."
Jim took his place by Hanaud's side.
"Look, here is a book on Old English Gold Plate, and another—pronounce that title for me, if you please."
Jim read the title of the book on which Hanaud's finger was placed.
Hanaud repeated the inscription5 and moved along. From a shelf at the level of his breast and just to the left of the window in which Betty was sitting, he took a large, thinnish volume in a paper cover, and turned over the plates. It was a brochure upon Battersea Enamel6.
"There should be a second volume," said Jim Frobisher with a glance at the bookshelf. It was the idlest of remarks. He was not paying any attention to the paper-covered book upon Battersea Enamel. For he was really engaged in speculating why Hanaud had called him to his side. Was it on the chance that he might detect some swift look of understanding as it was exchanged by the two girls, some sign that they were in a collusion? If so, he was to be disappointed. For though Betty and Ann were now free from Hanaud's vigilant9 eye, neither of them moved, neither of them signalled to the other. Hanaud, however, seemed entirely10 interested in his book. He answered Jim's suggestion.
"Yes, one would suppose that there were a second volume. But this is complete," he said, and he put back the book in its place. There was room next to it for another quarto book, so long as it was no thicker, and Hanaud rested his finger in the vacant place on the shelf, with his thoughts clearly far away.
Betty recalled him to his surroundings.
"Monsieur Hanaud," she said in her quiet voice from her seat in the window, "there was a second point, you said, on which you would like to ask me a question."
"Yes, Mademoiselle, I had not forgotten it."
He turned with a curiously11 swift movement and stood so that he had both girls in front of him, Betty on his left in the window, Ann Upcott standing7 a little apart upon his right, gazing at him with a look of awe12.
"Have you, Mademoiselle," he asked, "been pestered13, since Boris Waberski brought his accusation14, with any of these anonymous15 letters which seem to be flying about Dijon?"
"I have received one," answered Betty, and Ann Upcott raised her eyebrows16 in surprise. "It came on Sunday morning. It was very slanderous17, of course, and I should have taken no notice of it but for one thing. It told me that you, Monsieur Hanaud, were coming from Paris to take up the case."
"Oho!" said Hanaud softly. "And you received this letter on the Sunday morning? Can you show it to me, Mademoiselle?"
Betty shook her head.
"No, Monsieur."
Hanaud smiled.
"Of course not. You destroyed it, as such letter should be destroyed."
"No, I didn't," Betty answered. "I kept it. I put it away in a drawer of my writing-table in my own sitting-room18. But that room is sealed up, Monsieur Hanaud. The letter is in the drawer still."
Hanaud received the statement with a frank satisfaction.
"It cannot run away, then, Mademoiselle," he said contentedly19. But the contentment passed. "So the Commissaire of Police actually sealed up your private sitting-room. That, to be sure, was going a little far."
"It was mine, you see, where I keep my private things. And after all I was accused!" she said bitterly; but Ann Upcott was not satisfied to leave the matter there. She drew a step nearer to Betty and then looked at Hanaud.
"But that is not all the truth," she said. "Betty's room belongs to that suite21 of rooms in which Madame Harlowe's bedroom was arranged. It is the last room of the suite opening on to the hall, and for that reason, as the Commissaire said with an apology, it was necessary to seal it up with the others."
"I thank you, Mademoiselle," said Hanaud with a smile. "Yes, that of course softens22 his action." He looked whimsically at Betty in the window-seat. "It has been my misfortune, I am afraid, to offend Mademoiselle Harlowe. Will you help me to get all these troublesome dates now clear? Madame Harlowe was buried, I understand, on the Saturday morning twelve days ago!"
"Yes, Monsieur," said Ann Upcott.
"Yes, Monsieur."
"And in Boris Waberski's presence?"
"Yes."
"Then exactly a week later, on Saturday, the seventh of May, he goes off quickly to the Prefecture of Police?"
"Yes."
"And on Sunday morning by the post comes the anonymous letter?"
Hanaud turned away to Betty, who bowed her head in answer.
"And a little later on the same morning comes the Commissaire, who seals the doors."
"At eleven o'clock, to be exact," replied Ann Upcott.
Hanaud bowed low.
"You are both wonderful young ladies. You notice the precise hour at which things happen. It is a rare gift, and very useful to people like myself."
Ann Upcott had been growing easier and easier in her manner with each answer that she gave. Now she could laugh outright24.
"I do, at all events, Monsieur Hanaud," she said. "But alas! I was born to be an old maid. A chair out of place, a book disarranged, a clock not keeping time, or even a pin on the carpet—I cannot bear these things. I notice them at once and I must put them straight. Yes, it was precisely25 eleven o'clock when the Commissaire of Police rang the bell."
"Did he search the rooms before he sealed them?" Hanaud asked.
"No. We both of us thought his negligence26 strange," Ann replied, "until he informed us that the Examining Magistrate27 wanted everything left just as it was."
"That was on my account," he explained. "Who could tell what wonderful things Hanaud might not discover with his magnifying glass when he arrived from Paris? What fatal fingerprints29! Oh! Ho! ho! What scraps30 of burnt letter! Ah! Ha! ha! But I tell you, Mademoiselle, that if a crime has been committed in this house, even Hanaud would not expect to make any startling discoveries in rooms which had been open to the whole household for a fortnight since the crime. However," and he moved towards the door, "since I am here now——"
Betty was upon her feet like a flash of lightning. Hanaud stopped and swung round upon her, swiftly, with his eyes very challenging and hard.
"You are going to break those seals now?" she asked with a curious breathlessness. "Then may I come with you—please, please! It is I who am accused. I have a right to be present," and her voice rose into an earnest cry.
"Calm yourself, Mademoiselle," Hanaud returned gently. "No advantage will be taken of you. I am going to break no seals. That, as I have told you, is the right of the Commissaire, who is a magistrate, and he will not move until the medical analysis is ready. No, what I was going to propose was that Mademoiselle here," and he pointed8 to Ann, "should show me the outside of those reception-rooms and the rest of the house."
"Of course," said Betty, and she sat down again in the window-seat.
"Thank you," said Hanaud. He turned back to Ann Upcott. "Shall we go? And as we go, will you tell me what you think of Boris Waberski?"
"He has some nerve. I can tell you that, Monsieur Hanaud," Ann cried. "He actually came back to this house after he had lodged31 his charge, and asked me to support him"; and she passed out of the room in front of Hanaud.
Jim Frobisher followed the couple to the door and closed it behind them. The last few minutes had set his mind altogether at rest. The author of the anonymous letters was the detective's real quarry32. His manner had quite changed when putting his questions about them. The flamboyancies and the indifference33, even his amusement at Betty's ill-humour had quite disappeared. He had got to business watchfully34, quietly. Jim came back into the room. He took his cigarette-case from his pocket and opened it.
"May I smoke?" he asked. As he turned to Betty for permission, a fresh shock brought his thoughts and words alike to a standstill. She was staring at him with panic naked in her eyes and her face set like a tragic35 mask.
"He believes me guilty," she whispered.
"No," said Jim, and he went to her side. But she would not listen.
"He does. I am sure of it. Don't you see that he was bound to? He was sent from Paris. He has his reputation to think of. He must have his victim before he returns."
Jim was sorely tempted36 to break his word. He had only to tell the real cause which had fetched Hanaud out of Paris and Betty's distress37 was gone. But he could not. Every tradition of his life strove to keep him silent. He dared not even tell her that this charge against her was only an excuse. She must live in anxiety for a little while longer. He laid his hand gently upon her shoulder.
"Betty, don't believe that!" he said, with a consciousness of how weak that phrase was compared with the statement he could have made. "I was watching Hanaud, listening to him. I am sure that he already knew the answers to the questions he was asking you. Why, he even knew that Simon Harlowe had a passion for collecting, though not a word had been said of it. He was asking questions to see how you would answer them, setting now and then a little trap, as he admitted——"
"Yes," said Betty in trembling voice, "all the time he was setting traps."
"And every answer that you gave, even your manner in giving them," Jim continued stoutly39, "more and more made clear your innocence40."
"To him?" asked Betty.
"Yes, to him. I am sure of it."
Betty Harlowe caught at his arm and held it in both her hands. She leaned her head against it. Through the sleeve of his coat he felt the velvet41 of her cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Jim," and as she pronounced the name she smiled. She was thanking him not so much for the stout38 confidence of his words, as for the comfort which the touch of him gave to her.
"Very likely I am making too much of little things," she went on. "Very likely I am ungenerous, too, to Monsieur Hanaud. But he lives amidst crimes and criminals. He must be so used to seeing people condemned42 and passing out of sight into blackness and horrors, that one more or less, whether innocent or guilty, going that way, wouldn't seem to matter very much."
"Yes, Betty, I think that is a little unjust," Jim Frobisher remarked gently.
"Very well, I take it back," she said, and she let his arm go. "All the same, Jim, I am looking to you, not to him," and she laughed with an appealing tremor43 in the laugh which took his heart by storm.
"Luckily," said he, "you don't have to look to any one," and he had hardly finished the sentence before Ann Upcott came back alone into the room. She was about Betty's height and Betty's age and had the same sort of boyish slenderness and carriage which marks the girls of this generation. But in other respects, even to the colour of her clothes, she was as dissimilar as one girl can be from another. She was dressed in white from her coat to her shoes, and she wore a big gold hat so that one was almost at a loss to know where her hat ended and her hair began.
"And Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty asked.
"He is prowling about by himself," she replied. "I showed him all the rooms and who used them, and he said that he would have a look at them and sent me back to you."
"Did he break the seals on the reception-rooms?" Betty Harlowe asked.
"Oh, no," said Ann. "Why, he told us that he couldn't do that without the Commissaire."
"Yes, he told us that," Betty remarked dryly. "But I was wondering whether he meant what he told us."
"Oh, I don't think Monsieur Hanaud's alarming," said Ann. She gave Jim Frobisher the impression that at any moment she might call him a dear old thing. She had quite got over the first little shock which the announcement of his presence had caused her. "Besides," and she sat down by the side of Betty in the window-seat and looked with the frankest confidence at Jim—"besides, we can feel safe now, anyway."
Jim Frobisher threw up his hands in despair. That queer look of aloofness44 had played him false with Ann Upcott now, as it had already done with Betty. If these two girls had called on him for help when a sudden squall found them in an open sailing-boat with the sheet of the sail made fast, or on the ice-slope of a mountain, or with a rhinoceros45 lumbering46 towards them out of some forest of the Nile, he would not have shrunk from their trust. But this was quite a different matter. They were calmly pitting him against Hanaud.
"You were safe before," he exclaimed. "Hanaud is not your enemy, and as for me, I have neither experience nor natural gifts for this sort of work"—and he broke off with a groan47. For both the girls were watching him with a smile of complete disbelief.
"Good heavens, they think that I am being astute," he reflected, "and the more I confess my incapacity the astuter they'll take me to be." He gave up all arguments. "Of course I am absolutely at your service," he said.
"Thank you," said Betty. "You will bring your luggage from your hotel and stay here, won't you?"
Jim was tempted to accept that invitation. But, on the one hand, he might wish to see Hanaud at the Grande Taverne; or Hanaud might wish to see him, and secrecy48 was to be the condition of such meetings. It was better that he should keep his freedom of movement complete.
"I won't put you to so much trouble, Betty," he replied. "There's no reason in the world that I should. A call over the telephone and in five minutes I am at your side."
Betty Harlowe seemed in doubt to press her invitation or not.
"It looks a little inhospitable in me," she began, and the door opened, and Hanaud entered the room.
"I left my hat and stick here," he said. He picked them up and bowed to the girls.
"You have seen everything, Monsieur Hanaud?" Betty asked.
"Everything, Mademoiselle. I shall not trouble you again until the report of the analysis is in my hands. I wish you a good morning."
Betty slipped off the window-seat and accompanied him out into the hall. It appeared to Jim Frobisher that she was seeking to make some amends49 for her ill-humour; and when he heard her voice he thought to detect in it some note of apology.
"I shall be very glad if you will let me know the sense of that report as soon as possible," she pleaded. "You, better than any one, will understand that this is a difficult hour for me."
"I understand very well, Mademoiselle," Hanaud answered gravely. "I will see to it that the hour is not prolonged."
Jim, watching them through the doorway50, as they stood together in the sunlit hall, felt ever so slight a touch upon his arm. He wheeled about quickly. Ann Upcott was at his side with all the liveliness and even the delicate colour gone from her face, and a wild and desperate appeal in her eyes.
"You will come and stay here? Oh, please!" she whispered.
"I have just refused," he answered. "You heard me."
"I know," she went on, the words stumbling over one another from her lips. "But take back your refusal. Do! Oh, I am frightened out of my wits. I don't understand anything. I am terrified!" And she clasped her hands together in supplication51. Jim had never seen fear so stark52, no, not even in Betty's eyes a few minutes ago. It robbed her exquisite53 face of all its beauty, and made it in a second, haggard and old. But before he could answer, a stick clattered54 loudly upon the pavement of the hall and startled them both like the crack of a pistol.
Jim looked through the doorway. Hanaud was stooping to pick up his cane55. Betty made a dive for it, but Hanaud already had it in his hands.
"I thank you, Mademoiselle, but I can still touch my toes. Every morning I do it five times in my pyjamas," and with a laugh he ran down the couple of steps into the courtyard and with that curiously quick saunter of his was out into the street of Charles-Robert in a moment. When Jim turned again to Ann Upcott, the fear had gone from her face so completely that he could hardly believe his eyes.
"So I inferred," replied Betty with a curious smile as she came back into the room.
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1
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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monograms
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| n.字母组合( monogram的名词复数 ) | |
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pottery
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| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
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porcelain
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| n.瓷；adj.瓷的，瓷制的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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7
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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vigilant
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| adj.警觉的，警戒的，警惕的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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13
pestered
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| 使烦恼，纠缠( pester的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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16
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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slanderous
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| adj.诽谤的，中伤的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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contentedly
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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softens
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| （使）变软( soften的第三人称单数 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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negligence
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| n.疏忽，玩忽，粗心大意 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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fingerprints
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| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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31
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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32
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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33
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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watchfully
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| 警惕地，留心地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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43
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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44
aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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rhinoceros
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| n.犀牛 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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47
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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48
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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49
amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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50
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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51
supplication
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| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
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52
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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53
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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54
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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55
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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56
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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