Chapter 1  A Theatrical Party戏剧表演舞会
Chapter 1  A Theatrical Party
The memory of the public is short. Already the intense interest and excitement aroused by the murder of George Alfred St Vincent Marsh, fourth Baron Edgware, is a thing past and forgotten. Newer sensations have taken its place.
My friend, Hercule Poirot, was never openly mentioned in connection with the case. This, I may say, was entirely in accordance with his own wishes. He did not choose to appear in it. The credit went elsewhere - and that is how he wished it to be. Moreover, from Poirot’s own peculiar private point of view, the case was one of his failures. He always swears that it was the chance remark of a stranger in the street that put him on the right track.
However that may be, it was his genius that discovered the truth of the affair. But for Hercule Poirot I doubt if the crime would have been brought home to its perpetrator.
I feel therefore that the time has come for me to set down all I know of the affair in black and white. I know the ins and outs of the case thoroughly and I may also mention that I shall be fulfilling the wishes of a very fascinating lady in so doing.
I have often recalled that day in Poirot’s prim neat little sitting-room when, striding up and down a particular strip of carpet, my little friend gave us his masterly and astounding résumé of the case. I am going to begin my narrative where he did on that occasion - at a London theatre in June of last year.
Carlotta Adams was quite the rage in London at that moment. The year before she had given a couple of matinees which had been a wild success. This year she had had a three weeks’ season of which this was the last night but one.
Carlotta Adams was an American girl with the most amazing talent for single-handed sketches unhampered by make-up or scenery. She seemed to speak every language with ease. Her sketch of an evening in a foreign hotel was really wonderful. In turn, American tourists, German tourists, middle-class English families, questionable ladies, impoverished Russian aristocrats and weary discreet waiters all flitted across the scene.
Her sketches went from grave to gay and back again. Her dying Czecho-Slovakian woman in hospital brought a lump to the throat. A minute later we were rocking with laughter as a dentist plied his trade and chatted amiably with his victims.
Her programme closed with what she announced as ‘Some Imitations’.
Here again, she was amazingly clever. Without make-up of any kind, her features seemed to dissolve suddenly and reform themselves into those of a famous politician, or a well-known actress, or a society beauty. In each character she gave a short typical speech. These speeches, by the way, were remarkably clever. They seemed to hit off every weakness of the subject selected.
One of her last impersonations was Jane Wilkinson - a talented young American actress well known in London. It was really very clever. Inanities slipped off her tongue charged with some powerful emotional appeal so that in spite of yourself you felt that each word was uttered with some potent and fundamental meaning. Her voice, exquisitely toned, with a deep husky note in it, was intoxicating. The restrained gestures, each strangely significant, the slightly swaying body, the impression even, of strong physical beauty - how she did it, I cannot think!
I had always been an admirer of the beautiful Jane Wilkinson. She had thrilled me in her emotional parts, and I had always maintained in face of those who admitted her beauty but declared she was no actress, that she had considerable histrionic powers.
It was a little uncanny to hear that well-known, slightly husky voice with the fatalistic drop in it that had stirred me so often, and to watch that seemingly poignant gesture of the slowly closing and unclosing hand, and the sudden throw back of the head with the hair shaken back from the face that I realized she always gave at the close of a dramatic scene.
Jane Wilkinson was one of those actresses who had left the stage on her marriage only to return to it a couple of years later.
Three years ago she had married the wealthy but slightly eccentric Lord Edgware. Rumour went that she left him shortly afterwards. At any rate eighteen months after the marriage, she was acting for the films in America, and had this season appeared in a successful play in London.
Watching Carlotta Adams’ clever but perhaps slightly malicious imitation, it occurred to me to wonder how much imitations were regarded by the subject selected. Were they pleased at the notoriety - at the advertisement it afforded? Or were they annoyed at what was, after all, a deliberate exposing of the tricks of their trade? Was not Carlotta Adams in the position of the rival conjurer who says: ‘Oh! this is an old trick! Very simple. I’ll show you how this one’s done!’
I decided that if I were the subject in question, I should be very much annoyed. I should, of course, conceal my vexation, but decidedly I should not like it. One would need great broadmindedness and a distinct sense of humour to appreciate such a merciless exposé.
I had just arrived at these conclusions when the delightful husky laugh from the stage was echoed from behind me.
I turned my head sharply. In the seat immediately behind mine, leaning forward with her lips slightly parted, was the subject of the present imitation - Lady Edgware, better known as Jane Wilkinson.
I realized immediately that my deductions had been all wrong. She was leaning forward, her lips parted, with an expression of delight and excitement in her eyes.
As the ‘imitation’ finished, she applauded loudly, laughing and turning to her companion, a tall extremely good-looking man, of the Greek god type, whose face I recognized as one better known on the screen than on the stage. It was Bryan Martin, the hero of the screen most popular at the moment. He and Jane Wilkinson had been starred together in several screen productions.
‘Marvellous, isn’t she?’ Lady Edgware was saying.
He laughed.
‘Jane - you look all excited.’
‘Well, she really is too wonderful! Heaps better than I thought she’d be.’
I did not catch Bryan Martin’s amused rejoinder. Carlotta Adams had started on a fresh improvisation.
What happened later is, I shall always think, a very curious coincidence.
After the theatre, Poirot and I went on to supper at the Savoy.
At the very next table to ours were Lady Edgware, Bryan Martin and two other people whom I did not know. I pointed them out to Poirot and, as I was doing so, another couple came and took their places at the table beyond that again. The woman’s face was familiar and yet strangely enough, for the moment I could not place it.
Then suddenly I realized that it was Carlotta Adams at whom I was staring! The man I did not know. He was well-groomed, with a cheerful, somewhat vacuous face. Not a type that I admire.
Carlotta Adams was dressed very inconspicuously in black. Hers was not a face to command instant attention or recognition. It was one of those mobile sensitive faces that preeminently lend themselves to the art of mimicry. It could take on an alien character easily, but it had no very recognizable character of its own.
I imparted these reflections of mine to Poirot. He listened attentively, his egg-shaped head cocked slightly to one side whilst he darted a sharp glance at the two tables in question.
‘So that is Lady Edgware? Yes, I remember - I have seen her act. She is belle femme.’
‘And a fine actress too.’
‘Possibly.’
‘You don’t seem convinced.’
‘I think it would depend on the setting, my friend. If she is the centre of the play, if all revolves round her - yes, then she could play her part. I doubt if she could play a small part adequately or even what is called a character part. The play must be written about her and for her. She appears to me of the type of women who are interested only in themselves.’ He paused and then added rather unexpectedly: ‘Such people go through life in great danger.’
‘Danger?’ I said, surprised.
‘I have used a word that surprises you, I see, mon ami. Yes, danger. Because, you see, a woman like that sees only one thing - herself. Such women see nothing of the dangers and hazards that surround them - the million conflicting interests and relationships of life. No, they see only their own forward path. And so - sooner or later - disaster.’
I was interested. I confessed to myself that such a point of view would not have struck me.
‘And the other?’ I asked.
‘Miss Adams?’
His gaze swept to her table.
‘Well?’ he said, smiling. ‘What do you want me to say about her?’
‘Only how she strikes you.’
‘Mon cher, am I tonight the fortune-teller who reads the palm and tells the character?’
‘You could do it better than most,’ I rejoined.
‘It is a very pretty faith that you have in me, Hastings. It touches me. Do you not know, my friend, that each one of us is a dark mystery, a maze of conflicting passions and desires and attitudes? Mais oui, c’est vrai. One makes one’s little judgments - but nine times out of ten one is wrong.’
‘Not Hercule Poirot,’ I said, smiling.
‘Even Hercule Poirot! Oh! I know very well that you have always a little idea that I am conceited, but, indeed, I assure you, I am really a very humble person.’
I laughed.
‘You - humble!’
‘It is so. Except - I confess it - that I am a little proud of my moustaches. Nowhere in London have I observed anything to compare with them.’
‘You are quite safe,’ I said dryly. ‘You won’t. So you are not going to risk judgment on Carlotta Adams?’
‘Elle est artiste! ’ said Poirot simply. ‘That covers nearly all, does it not?’
‘Anyway, you don’t consider that she walks through life in peril?’
‘We all do that, my friend,’ said Poirot gravely. ‘Misfortune may always be waiting to rush out upon us. But as to your question, Miss Adams, I think, will succeed. She is shrewd and she is something more. You observed without doubt that she is a Jewess?’
I had not. But now that he mentioned it, I saw the faint traces of Semitic ancestry. Poirot nodded.
‘It makes for success - that. Though there is still one avenue of danger - since it is of danger we are talking.’
‘You mean?’
‘Love of money. Love of money might lead such a one from the prudent and cautious path.’
‘It might do that to all of us,’ I said.
‘That is true, but at any rate you or I would see the danger involved. We could weigh the pros and cons. If you care for money too much, it is only the money you see, everything else is in shadow.’
I laughed at his serious manner.
‘Esmeralda, the gipsy queen, is in good form,’ I remarked teasingly.
‘The psychology of character is interesting,’ returned Poirot unmoved. ‘One cannot be interested in crime without being interested in psychology. It is not the mere act of killing, it is what lies behind it that appeals to the expert. You follow me, Hastings?’
I said that I followed him perfectly.
‘I have noticed that when we work on a case together, you are always urging me on to physical action, Hastings. You wish me to measure footprints, to analyse cigarette-ash, to prostrate myself on my stomach for the examination of detail. You never realize that by lying back in an arm-chair with the eyes closed one can come nearer to the solution of any problem. One sees then with the eyes of the mind.’
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘When I lie back in an arm-chair with my eyes closed one thing happens to me and one thing only!’
‘I have noticed it!’ said Poirot. ‘It is strange. At such moments the brain should be working feverishly, not sinking into sluggish repose. The mental activity, it is so interesting, so stimulating! The employment of the little grey cells is a mental pleasure. They and they only can be trusted to lead one through fog to the truth . . .’
I am afraid that I have got into the habit of averting my attention whenever Poirot mentions his little grey cells. I have heard it all so often before.
In this instance my attention wandered to the four people sitting at the next table. When Poirot’s monologue drew to a close I remarked with a chuckle:
‘You have made a hit, Poirot. The fair Lady Edgware can hardly take her eyes off you.’
‘Doubtless she has been informed of my identity,’ said Poirot, trying to look modest and failing.
‘I think it is the famous moustaches,’ I said. ‘She is carried away by their beauty.’
Poirot caressed them surreptitiously.
‘It is true that they are unique,’ he admitted. ‘Oh, my friend, the “tooth-brush” as you call it, that you wear - it is a horror - an atrocity - a wilful stunting of the bounties of nature. Abandon it, my friend, I pray of you.’
‘By Jove,’ I said, disregarding Poirot’s appeal. ‘The lady’s getting up. I believe she’s coming to speak to us. Bryan Martin is protesting, but she won’t listen to him.’
Sure enough, Jane Wilkinson swept impetuously from her seat and came over to our table. Poirot rose to his feet bowing, and I rose also.
‘M. Hercule Poirot, isn’t it?’ said the soft husky voice.
‘At your service.’
‘M. Poirot, I want to talk to you. I must talk to you.’
‘But certainly, Madame, will you not sit down?’
‘No, no, not here. I want to talk to you privately. We’ll go right upstairs to my suite.’
Bryan Martin had joined her, he spoke now with a deprecating laugh.
‘You must wait a little, Jane. We’re in the middle of supper. So is M. Poirot.’
But Jane Wilkinson was not so easily turned from her purpose.
‘Why, Bryan, what does that matter? We’ll have supper sent up to the suite. Speak to them about it, will you? And, Bryan -’
She went after him as he was turning away and appeared to urge some course upon him. He stood out about it, I gathered, shaking his head and frowning. But she spoke even more emphatically and finally with a shrug of the shoulders he gave way.
Once or twice during her speech to him she had glanced at the table where Carlotta Adams sat, and I wondered if what she were suggesting had anything to do with the American girl.
Her point gained, Jane came back, radiant.
‘We’ll go right up now,’ she said, and included me in a dazzling smile.
The question of our agreeing or not agreeing to her plan didn’t seem to occur to her mind. She swept us off without a shade of apology.
‘It’s the greatest luck just seeing you here this evening, M. Poirot,’ she said as she led the way to the lift. ‘It’s wonderful how everything seems to turn out right for me. I’d just been thinking and wondering what on earth I was going to do and I looked up and there you were at the next table, and I said to myself: “M. Poirot will tell me what to do.”’
She broke off to say ‘Second Floor’ to the lift-boy.
‘If I can be of aid to you -’ began Poirot.
‘I’m sure you can. I’ve heard you’re just the most marvellous man that ever existed. Somebody’s got to get me out of the tangle I’m in and I feel you’re just the man to do it.’
We got out at the second floor and she led the way along the corridor, paused at a door and entered one of the most opulent of the Savoy suites.
Casting her white fur wrap on one chair, and her small jewelled bag on the table, the actress sank on to a chair and exclaimed:
‘M. Poirot, somehow or other I’ve just got to get rid of my husband!’

第一章 戏剧表演舞会
公众的记忆力是短暂的。曾几何时。埃奇韦尔男爵四世—乔治•艾尔弗雷德•圣文森特•马什被害一案引起巨大轰动和好奇，而今一切已成旧事，皆被遗忘，取而代之的是更新的轰动一时的消息。
人们谈起这案子时从未公开说及我的朋友—赫尔克里•波洛。我得说，这全都是由于他本人的意愿。他自己不想出现在案子里。也正如他本人所希望的，功劳就算到别人头上。更何况。按照波洛自己独特的观点，这案子是他的一个失败。他总是发誓说：是在街头偶然听到的路人的话使他找到正确线索的。
不论怎样，正是因为他的天才，案件才得以查得水落石出。要不是赫尔克里•波洛，我真怀疑案子是否能真相大白。凶手是否能找出来。
因此我觉得现在该是我白纸黑字把我知道的一切写出来的时候了。我知道整个案子的来龙去脉，另外我这样做将能满足一位非常迷人的女士的心愿。
我常常回忆起那天在波洛的那间整洁的客厅里，我这位身材不高的朋友一边在地毯上踱来踱去，一边给我们巧妙而又令人惊讶地叙述案件经过。我准备从他那次开始叙述的地方说起。那是去年六月，在伦敦的一家剧院里。
那时卡洛塔•亚当斯在伦敦正风靡一时。在前一年她曾连续演出几个日场，大获成功。今年她连续演了三星期，那天的演出正是倒数第二个夜场。
卡洛塔•亚当斯是一位美国女子。在独角戏表演方面有令人惊叹的才能，她的表演可以不受化装或布景的限制。她似乎任何语言都讲得流畅自如。她的关于《外国旅馆一夜》的表演更是妙不可言——美国游人、德国游人、中产阶级的英国家庭、行迹可疑的女子、贫穷的俄国贯族以及倦怠少言的侍者，被她一一演来，诩诩如生。
她的表情时而高兴，时而悲哀，不断反复。她所表演的医院里濒临死亡的捷克斯洛伐克女子令人哽咽。而片刻之后她所表演的一边给病人拔牙一边和病人聊天的牙科医生又让我们笑得前仰后合。
她最后是以被她自己叫做“人物模仿表演”的节目结束她的表演。
她又一次表现出令人惊讶的伶俐。不用任何化装。她的容貌特征似乎突然消失了，后又突然转变为一个著名的政客。或者一个出名的演员，者一位交际花的面貌。她在表演每一位人物时都会加人一段简短且具代表性的讲话。这些讲话也都是相当聪明的，乎能简洁明了地表述出所选人物的要害之处。
她最后扮演的人物是简。威尔金森——一位在伦敦很出名的极有天赋的美国青年女演员。模仿表演的确很绝妙。无意义的话从她的口里说出来便带有强烈的感染力，你听后会不由自主地觉得她所说的每一个词都含有深远的令人折服的意义。她说话音调精巧，带有一种低沉沙哑的调子。听起来令人陶醉。她每一种带有奇特的意味的矜持的姿态、她微微摇曳的身姿以及她的健美给人留下的印象等等，真难以想象她是怎样获得如此成功的！
我一直是美丽的简•威尔金森的崇拜者。她感情丰富的表演令我激动。面对那些认为她是美女但不是好演员的人我总是强调她有相当强的表演能力。
听着她那为人所熟悉的带有宿命论口气、略微沙哑的声音，的感觉是奇妙的。我就是经常为此而激动。看着她那极有力度的手指时而慢慢张开，而合拢，突然一甩。头发也随之滑过面庞，知道表演结束时她总是这样。
一些女演员结婚了便离开舞台，过了几年又回来了，。威尔金森就属于这一类。
三年之前她嫁给了富有但略微古怪的埃奇韦尔男爵。人们遥传她很快就离开了他。不管怎么说结婚十八个月后她又开始在美国拍电影了。现在又在伦敦出演一部很成功的戏剧。
看着卡洛塔•亚当斯的伶俐但似乎又略带恶意的模仿，突然想被模仿者会怎么看。他们对这种扬名和宣传会开心吗？或许很恼怒，为毕竟是在有意暴露他们的做事技巧。卡洛塔•亚当斯难道不是在向对手示威：“噢！这是旧把戏！非常简单。我来露一手给你们看！”
我的结论是，如果我是当事人，我会很生气。当然我会掩饰一下我的恼怒，但我肯定不喜欢。一个人如果想对这种毫不留情的揭露表示赞赏，真需要宽广的胸怀和杰出的幽默感。
我刚刚这样想完，我后面传来舞台上的那种沙哑的笑声。
我猛一回头，原来目前的被模仿者——埃奇韦尔夫人（不过简•威尔金森这名字更为人所知）双唇微开，身体前倾着，就坐在我后面。
我立刻意识到我的想法完全错误。她的眼里透露着喜悦和兴奋。
“模仿表演”结束了，她大声地鼓着掌，笑着转向他的同伴。她的同伴身材高大，相貌属希腊美男子型，极为英俊。我认识这面孔，他在电影里比在舞台上更知名些。
他的名字叫布赖恩•马丁，是当时最走红的电影名星。他和简•威尔金森在好几部电影里联袂出演。
“她真是棒极了，不是吗？”埃奇韦尔夫人说。
他大笑。“简，你看起来很激动。”
“是的，她真是太棒了，比我想象的要好得多！”
我没有听清布赖恩。马丁的回答，因为卡洛塔•亚当斯又开始了新的即兴表演。
而后发生的一切，我总是认为，是令人惊异的巧合。看完剧后波洛和我去萨伏依饭店吃饭。
埃奇韦尔夫人、布赖恩•马丁和另两位我不认识的人就坐我们邻座。我把他们指给波洛看，就在这时又有一对走进来坐在他们的邻座。其中的女士很面善，但在那时我说不出她到底是谁。
突然我意识到我正盯着看的女士是卡洛塔•亚当斯！那位男士我不认识。他穿着得体，表现得很快乐，但面部表情很空洞。他不属于我喜欢的类型。
卡洛塔•亚当斯穿着极不显眼的黑色衣服。她的面容不很起眼。不易被立刻认出。正是这种精巧易变的面容更利于她的模仿表演。它可以很容易让人认为他是外国人，同时隐去自己的特征。
我向波洛讲了我的这些想法。他椭圆形的脑袋微微偏到一边，仔细地听着我的话，锐利的目光投向这两桌的人们。
“那就是埃奇韦尔夫人？是的，我看过她的表演。她是一位美人。”
“也是一位好演员。”
“有可能。”
“你似乎不赞同。”
“我认为这要取决于背景，我的朋友。如果她是剧的中心人物，是的，如果一切都是围绕她，她就能演出她的角色。我怀疑她是否能把一个小角色，或者性格型角色，演得恰到好处。剧本必须是围绕她并为她而写。给我的感觉是她只对自己感兴趣。”他停了停，突然令人出乎意料地加了一句，“这样的人在生活中很危险。”
“危险？”我惊讶地问。
“我明白，我用了一个令你惊讶的词，我的朋友，是的，危险。你知道，这样的妇女只能看到一样东西一她自己。此类妇女对四周潜伏的危机——生活中错综复杂的利益关系视而不见。不，她们也能看到些东西，即她们的前进之路。那么终点。或早或晚，是灾难。”
我对他的话很感兴趣，说实话，我自己是没有这种见解的。
“那么，另外一个呢？”
“亚当斯小姐？”
他的目光扫向她那桌。
“怎么？”他笑着说。“你要我说她什么？”
“讲讲她是怎样打动你的？”
“我亲爱的。难道我今晚成了看手相、谈他人性格的算命先生吗？”
“你能比大多数算命先生算得更准。”我回答道。
“你真是太相信我了，黑斯廷斯。我很感动。我的朋友，你知道我们每一个人都是一团谜——由矛盾复杂的激情、欲望和态势构成的迷宫。当然是的，这是真的。我们自己做出的判断，十有八九是错的。”
“但不包括赫尔克里•波洛。”我笑着说。
“也包括赫尔克里•波洛。我知道你总觉得我自负，但实际上。我跟你说，我是个很谦虚的人。”
我大笑。
“你——谦虚！”
“是的，除了，我得承认，我对我的胡子是有点自豪。我观察过了，在伦敦绝找不出可比的。”
“你是不用担心的。”我不动声色地说。“你是不会在伦敦找出第二个长着你这种胡子的。那么你不打算大胆地评价卡洛塔•亚当斯了？”
“她是个艺人！”波洛简捷地说道。“这就差不多概括了一切。是不是？”
“不管怎么说，你不会认为她生存在危险中吧？”
“我的朋友。我们每个人都如此。”波洛庄重地说，“灾难总是伺机而入。不过你要是问关于亚当斯小姐，我认为她会发迹的，因为她很聪明。另外还有重要一点就是。你一定观察到了。地是犹太人。”
我还真没注意到，但听他说了后，我还真能看出她的犹太人的痕迹。波洛点着头。
“她会发迹。可既然我们在说危险，她的路仍是一条险途。”
“你的意思是……”
“爱钱。对钱的欲望会将这样的人引人歧途，不再谨慎小心。”
“我们人人都会这样的。”我回答道。
“是这样的。但你和我能看出其中的危险。我们会权衡利弊。如果你太爱钱，你的眼睛就只能看到钱，其它的东西就全被遮住了。”
看着他认真的样子，我大笑起来。
“《巴黎圣母院》中的吉普赛女郎——埃斯美拉达再现了。”我开玩笑地说。
“性格心理学是很有趣的。”波洛不为所动地回答道”一个人如果对心理学不感兴趣），他也不会对犯罪问题感兴趣。犯罪问题专家所注意的不仅仅是凶杀行为本身），是问题后面的东西。黑斯廷斯），明白我的话了吗？”
我回答他，完全听明白了。
“黑斯廷斯，注意到，当我们一起办案子时，总是催促我采取行动。你总希望我勘查脚印，析烟灰，在地上检查细节。你从末发现闭着眼睛、仰卧在扶手椅上才更容易解决问题。那时我们是用心灵的眼睛观察事物。”
“我可不行。”我说，当我躺在扶手椅上，着眼睛想一件事儿，里面就那一件事，他的什么都没有。”
“我曾注意过，波洛说，真是很奇怪，时人的大脑不是陷人懒散的歇息状态。而是剧烈地活动起来。大脑的活动是如此有趣、如此刺激！运用大脑的那些小灰细胞是一种大脑的乐趣。只有靠它们我们才能拨开迷雾，到真理。”
每当波洛说起灰色的脑细胞，就习惯性地转移了注意力。因为这个我听他说很多次了。
这一次我的注意力转到邻桌的四位。待波洛的独白即将结束时我格格笑着说，
“波洛，你大受欢迎啊。漂亮的埃奇韦尔太太的眼睛简直离不开你了。”
“很显然，有人把我的身份告诉了她。”波洛试着露出谦虚的样子，但没成功。
“我猜是因为你的出名的胡子，”我说道，“她为胡子的漂亮倾倒了。”
波洛偷偷地捋着他的胡子。
“我的胡子的确很独特。”他也承认了，“唤，我的朋友，你的自称为‘牙刷’的胡子真够可怕、残忍的了，有意玷污造物主的造化。我的朋友，求你了。把它们剃掉吧。”
“啊！”我不顾波洛的请求，“那位女士站起来了，我敢肯定她是要和我们说话。布赖恩•马丁在反对，但她没听他的。”
一点不错，简•威尔金森猛然离开她的座位。径直走向我们的桌子。波洛站起来鞠躬致意，我也站了起来。
“赫尔克里•波洛先生，是吗？”她的声音沙哑但很温柔。
“愿为您效劳。”
“波洛先生。我想和您谈谈。我一定要和您谈谈。”
“当然可以，女士，您要坐下吗？”
“不，不，不在这儿。我想单独和您谈谈。我们上楼去我的套房吧。”
布赖恩•马丁跟了过来，笑着反对道：
“简。再等一会吧，我们还没吃完饭，波洛先生也一样啊。”
但简•威尔金森不是很容易改变主意的。
“怎么了，马丁，那又有什么关系呢？我们可以让人把晚饭送到套房里。你去和他们说。好吗？还有，马丁——”
他转过身去时，她跟着他，好像让他做什么。我猜测。他好像不同意，摇着头，皱着眉。她更强调地说着，于是他耸耸肩让步了。
在她说话过程中，她几次看了看卡洛塔•亚当斯坐的桌子，我猜她在说什么和那位美国女士有关的事。
简的目的达到了，便容光焕发地回来了。
“我们现在就上去。”她迷人地笑着说，示意也包括我。
她好像根本不在意我们是否同意她的计划。她毫无歉意地带着我们走了。
“波洛先生，今天晚上能遇见您真是运气。”她在领我f门走向电梯时说，“我事事都顺，真是棒极了。我正想着究竟该怎样做，一抬头就看到您坐在邻座。我就对自己说，‘波洛先生会告诉我该怎样做的。’”
她中断讲话对电梯服务生说，“三楼。”
“如果我能帮您忙的话——”波洛开始说。
“我肯定您能。我听说您是一位了不起的人。得有人帮我解围，您就是那个人。”
我们从三楼电梯出来，她领我们走在长廊上，在一个门前停了下来，走进了萨伏依饭店最豪华的套房。
她把白皮披肩丢在椅子上，把她的小珍珠手袋丢在桌上。然后就坐在椅子上大声说，
“波洛先生，不管怎样，我得摆脱我丈夫。”
Chapter 2  A Supper Party晚宴
Chapter 2  A Supper Party
After a moment’s astonishment Poirot recovered himself !
‘But, Madame,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, ‘getting rid of husbands is not my speciality.’
‘Well, of course I know that.’
‘It is a lawyer you require.’
‘That’s just where you’re wrong. I’m just about sick and tired of lawyers. I’ve had straight lawyers and crooked lawyers, and not one of them’s done me any good. Lawyers just know the law, they don’t seem to have any kind of natural sense.’
‘And you think I have?’
She laughed.
‘I’ve heard that you’re the cat’s whiskers, M. Poirot.’
‘Comment? The cat’s whiskers? I do not understand.’
‘Well - that you’re it.’
‘Madame, I may or may not have brains - as a matter of fact I have - why pretend? But your little affair, it is not my genre.’
‘I don’t see why not. It’s a problem.’
‘Oh! a problem!’
‘And it’s difficult,’ went on Jane Wilkinson. ‘I should say you weren’t the man to shy at difficulties.’
‘Let me compliment you on your insight, Madame. But all the same, me, I do not make the investigations for divorce. It is not pretty - ce métier là.’
‘My dear man. I’m not asking you to do spying work. It wouldn’t be any good. But I’ve just got to get rid of the man, and I’m sure you could tell me how to do it.’
Poirot paused awhile before replying. When he did, there was a new note in his voice.
‘First tell me, Madame, why are you so anxious to “get rid” of Lord Edgware?’
There was no delay or hesitation about her answer. It came swift and pat.
‘Why, of course. I want to get married again. What other reason could there be?’
Her great blue eyes opened ingenuously.
‘But surely a divorce should be easy to obtain?’
‘You don’t know my husband, M. Poirot. He’s - he’s -’ She shivered. ‘I don’t know how to explain it. He’s a queer man - he’s not like other people.’
She paused and then went on.
‘He should never have married - anyone. I know what I’m talking about. I just can’t describe him, but he’s - queer. His first wife, you know, ran away from him. Left a baby of three months behind. He never divorced her and she died miserably abroad somewhere. Then he married me. Well - I couldn’t stick it. I was frightened. I left him and went to the States. I’ve no grounds for a divorce, and if I’ve given him grounds for one, he won’t take notice of them. He’s - he’s a kind of fanatic.’
‘In certain American states you could obtain a divorce, Madame.’
‘That’s no good to me - not if I’m going to live in England.’
‘You want to live in England?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who is the man you want to marry?’
‘That’s just it. The Duke of Merton.’
I drew in my breath sharply. The Duke of Merton had so far been the despair of matchmaking mammas. A young man of monkish tendencies, a violent Anglo-Catholic, he was reported to be completely under the thumb of his mother, the redoubtable dowager duchess. His life was austere in the extreme. He collected Chinese porcelain and was reputed to be of aesthetic tastes. He was supposed to care nothing for women.
‘I’m just crazy about him,’ said Jane sentimentally. ‘He’s unlike anyone I ever met, and Merton Castle is too wonderful. The whole thing is the most romantic business that ever happened. He’s so good-looking too - like a dreamy kind of monk.’
She paused.
‘I’m going to give up the stage when I marry. I just don’t seem to care about it any more.’
‘In the meantime,’ said Poirot dryly, ‘Lord Edgware stands in the way of these romantic dreams.’
‘Yes - and it’s driving me to distraction.’ She leaned back thoughtfully. ‘Of course if we were only in Chicago I could get him bumped off quite easily, but you don’t seem to run to gunmen over here.’
‘Over here,’ said Poirot, smiling, ‘we consider that every human has the right to live.’
‘Well, I don’t know about that. I guess you’d be better off without some of your politicians, and knowing what I do of Edgware I think he’d be no loss - rather the contrary.’
There was a knock at the door, and a waiter entered with supper dishes. Jane Wilkinson continued to discuss her problem with no appreciation of his presence.
‘But I don’t want you to kill him for me, M. Poirot.’
‘Merci, Madame.’
‘I thought perhaps you might argue with him in some clever way. Get him to give in to the idea of divorce. I’m sure you could.’
‘I think you overrate my persuasive powers, Madame.’
‘Oh! but you can surely think of something, M. Poirot.’ She leaned forward. Her blue eyes opened wide again. ‘You’d like me to be happy, wouldn’t you?’
Her voice was soft, low and deliciously seductive.
‘I should like everybody to be happy,’ said Poirot cautiously.
‘Yes, but I wasn’t thinking of everybody. I was thinking of just me.’
‘I should say you always do that, Madame.’
He smiled.
‘You think I’m selfish?’
‘Oh! I did not say so, Madame.’
‘I dare say I am. But, you see, I do so hate being unhappy. It affects my acting, even. And I’m going to be ever so unhappy unless he agrees to a divorce - or dies.
‘On the whole,’ she continued thoughtfully, ‘it would be much better if he died, I mean, I’d feel more finally quit of him.’
She looked at Poirot for sympathy.
‘You will help me, won’t you, M. Poirot?’ She rose, picking up the white wrap, and stood looking appealingly into his face. I heard the noise of voices outside in the corridor. The door was ajar. ‘If you don’t -’ she went on.
‘If I don’t, Madame?’
She laughed.
‘I’ll have to call a taxi to go round and bump him off myself.’
Laughing, she disappeared through a door to an adjoining room just as Bryan Martin came in with the American girl, Carlotta Adams, and her escort, and the two people who had been supping with him and Jane Wilkinson. They were introduced to me as Mr and Mrs Widburn.
‘Hello!’ said Bryan. ‘Where’s Jane? I want to tell her I’ve succeeded in the commission she gave me.’
Jane appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. She held a lipstick in one hand.
‘Have you got her? How marvellous. Miss Adams, I do admire your performance so. I felt I just had to know you. Come in here and talk to me while I fix my face. It’s looking too perfectly frightful.’
Carlotta Adams accepted the invitation. Bryan Martin flung himself down in a chair.
‘Well, M. Poirot,’ he said. ‘You were duly captured. Has our Jane persuaded you to fight her battles? You might as well give in sooner as later. She doesn’t understand the word “No.” ’
‘She has not come across it, perhaps.’
‘A very interesting character, Jane,’ said Bryan Martin. He lay back in his hair and puffed cigarette smoke idly towards the ceiling. ‘Taboos have no meaning for her. No morals whatever. I don’t mean she’s exactly immoral - she isn’t. Amoral is the word, I believe. Just sees one thing only in life - what Jane wants.’
He laughed.
‘I believe she’d kill somebody quite cheerfully - and feel injured if they caught her and wanted to hang her for it. The trouble is that she would be caught. She hasn’t any brains. Her idea of a murder would be to drive up in a taxi, sail in under her own name and shoot.’
‘Now, I wonder what makes you say that?’ murmured Poirot.
‘Eh?’
‘You know her well, Monsieur?’
‘I should say I did.’
He laughed again, and it struck me that his laugh was unusually bitter.
‘You agree, don’t you?’ he flung out to the others.
‘Oh! Jane’s an egoist,’ agreed Mrs Widburn. ‘An actress has got to be, though. That is, if she wants to express her personality.’
Poirot did not speak. His eyes were resting on Bryan Martin’s face, dwelling there with a curious speculative expression that I could not quite understand.
At that moment Jane sailed in from the next room, Carlotta Adams behind her. I presume that Jane had now ‘fixed her face’, whatever that term denoted, to her own satisfaction. It looked to me exactly the same as before and quite incapable of improvement.
The supper party that followed was quite a merry one, yet I sometimes had the feeling that there were undercurrents which I was incapable of appreciating.
Jane Wilkinson I acquitted of any subtleties. She was obviously a young woman who saw only one thing at a time. She had desired an interview with Poirot, and had carried her point and obtained her desire without delay. Now she was obviously in high good humour. Her desire to include Carlotta Adams in the party had been, I decided, a mere whim. She had been highly amused, as a child might be amused, by the clever counterfeit of herself.
No, the undercurrents that I sensed were nothing to do with Jane Wilkinson. In what direction did they lie?
I studied the guests in turn. Bryan Martin? He was certainly not behaving quite naturally. But that, I told myself, might be merely characteristic of a film star. The exaggerated self-consciousness of a vain man too accustomed to playing a part to lay it aside easily.
Carlotta Adams, at any rate, was behaving naturally enough. She was a quiet girl with a pleasant low voice. I studied her with some attention now that I had a chance to do so at close quarters. She had, I thought, distinct charm, but charm of a somewhat negative order. It consisted in an absence of any jarring or strident note. She was a kind of personified soft agreement. Her very appearance was negative. Soft dark hair, eyes a rather colourless pale blue, pale face and a mobile sensitive mouth. A face that you liked but that you would find it hard to know again if you were to meet her, say, in different clothes.
She seemed pleased at Jane’s graciousness and complimentary sayings. Any girl would be, I thought - and then - just at that moment - something occurred that caused me to revise that rather hasty opinion.
Carlotta Adams looked across the table at her hostess who was at that moment turning her head to talk to Poirot. There was a curious scrutinizing quality in the girl’s gaze - it seemed a deliberate summing up, and at the same time it struck me that there was a very definite hostility in those pale blue eyes.
Fancy, perhaps. Or possibly professional jealousy. Jane was a successful actress who had definitely arrived. Carlotta was merely climbing the ladder.
I looked at the three other members of the party. Mr and Mrs Widburn, what about them? He was a tall cadaverous man, she a plump, fair, gushing soul. They appeared to be wealthy people with a passion for everything connected with the stage. They were in fact, unwilling to talk on any other subject. Owing to my recent absence from England they found me sadly ill-informed, and finally Mrs Widburn turned a plump shoulder on me and remembered my existence no more.
The last member of the party was the dark young man with the round cheerful face who was Carlotta Adams’ escort. I had had my suspicions from the first that the young man was not quite so sober as he might have been. As he drank more champagne this became even more clearly apparent.
He appeared to be suffering from a profound sense of injury. For the first half of the meal he sat in gloomy silence. Towards the latter half he unbosomed himself to me apparently under the impression that I was one of his oldest friends.
‘What I mean to say,’ he said. ‘It isn’t. No, dear old chap, it isn’t -’
I omit the slight slurring together of the words.
‘I mean to say,’ he went on, ‘I ask you? I mean if you take a girl - well, I mean - butting in. Going round upsetting things. Not as though I’d ever said a word to her I shouldn’t have done. She’s not the sort. You know - Puritan fathers - the Mayflower - all that. Dash it - the girl’s straight. What I mean is - what was I saying?’
‘That it was hard lines,’ I said soothingly.
‘Well, dash it all, it is. Dash it, I had to borrow the money for this beano from my tailor. Very obliging chap, my tailor. I’ve owed him money for years. Makes a sort of bond between us. Nothing like a bond, is there, dear old fellow. You and I. You and I. Who the devil are you, by the way?’
‘My name is Hastings.’
‘You don’t say so. Now I could have sworn you were a chap called Spencer Jones. Dear old Spencer Jones. Met him at the Eton and Harrow and borrowed a fiver from him. What I say is one face is very like another face - that’s what I say. If we were a lot of Chinks we wouldn’t know each other apart.’
He shook his head sadly, then cheered up suddenly and drank off some more champagne.
‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘I’m not a damned nigger.’
This reflection seemed to cause him such elation that he presently made several remarks of a hopeful character.
‘Look on the bright side, my boy,’ he adjured me. ‘What I say is, look on the bright side. One of these days - when I’m seventy-five or so, I’m going to be a rich man. When my uncle dies. Then I can pay my tailor.’
He sat smiling happily at the thought.
There was something strangely likeable about the young man. He had a round face and an absurdly small black moustache that gave one the impression of being marooned in the middle of a desert.
Carlotta Adams, I noticed, had an eye on him, and it was after a glance in his direction that she rose and broke up the party.
‘It was just sweet of you to come up here,’ said Jane. ‘I do so love doing things on the spur of the moment, don’t you?’
‘No,’ said Miss Adams. ‘I’m afraid I always plan a thing out very carefully before I do it. It saves - worry.’
There was something faintly disagreeable in her manner.
‘Well, at any rate the results justify you,’ laughed Jane. ‘I don’t know when I enjoyed anything so much as I did your show tonight.’
The American girl’s face relaxed.
‘Well, that’s very sweet of you,’ she said warmly. ‘And I guess I appreciate your telling me so. I need encouragement. We all do.’
‘Carlotta,’ said the young man with the black moustache. ‘Shake hands and say thank you for the party to Aunt Jane and come along.’
The way he walked straight through the door was a miracle of concentration. Carlotta followed him quickly.
‘Well,’ said Jane, ‘what was that that blew in and called me Aunt Jane? I hadn’t noticed him before.’
‘My dear,’ said Mrs Widburn. ‘You mustn’t take any notice of him. Most brilliant as a boy in the O.U.D.S. You’d hardly think so now, would you? I hate to see early promise come to nothing. But Charles and I positively must toddle.’
The Widburns duly toddled and Bryan Martin went with them.
‘Well, M. Poirot?’
He smiled at her.
‘Eh bien, Lady Edgware?’
‘For goodness’ sake, don’t call me that. Let me forget it! If you aren’t the hardest-hearted little man in Europe!’
‘But no, but no, I am not hard-hearted.’
Poirot, I thought, had had quite enough champagne, possibly a glass too much.
‘Then you’ll go and see my husband? And make him do what I want?’
‘I will go and see him,’ Poirot promised cautiously.
‘And if he turns you down - as he will - you’ll think of a clever plan. They say you’re the cleverest man in England, M. Poirot.’
‘Madame, when I am hard-hearted, it is Europe you mention. But for cleverness you say only England.’
‘If you put this through I’ll say the universe.’
Poirot raised a deprecating hand.
‘Madame, I promise nothing. In the interests of the psychology I will endeavour to arrange a meeting with your husband.’
‘Psycho-analyse him as much as you like. Maybe it would do him good. But you’ve got to pull it off - for my sake. I’ve got to have my romance, M. Poirot.’
She added dreamily: ‘Just think of the sensation it will make.’

第二章 晚宴
波洛惊呆片刻才恢复常态。
“但是，夫人，”波洛眨着眼睛说，“摆脱丈夫可不是我的专长。”
“当然，我知道。”
“您需要的是一个律师。”
“那您可就错了。我对律师简直厌烦透了。我用过正直的、搞歪门邪道的、各种各样的律师，他们都毫无用处。律师只懂法律，好像根本不懂任何常识。”
“您认为我就懂吗？”
她大笑。“波洛先生，我听说您是一位杰出人物。”
“听说？杰出人物？我不明白。”
“可——您确实是杰出人物。”
“夫人，事实上，我可能有头脑，也可能没有，何必要装呢。而您的事不是我所能解决的。”
“我不明白为什么不是。我的事也是一个问题啊。”
“哦。一个问题。”
“而且是个难题。”简•威尔金森接着说，“我得说您不是不敢面对难题的人。”
“夫人，对您的洞察力我表示赞赏。但我不论怎样，都不会做离婚调查。那不是很好，这种事情。”
“我亲爱的先生，我不是让您做侦察。那毫无益处。可我不得不摆脱他。我相信您会告诉我怎样做的。”
波洛回答前先沉默片刻，待他说话时，他的话里含了一种新的腔调。
“夫人，首先告诉我，您为何如此急于摆脱，埃奇韦尔男爵？”
她的回答斩钉截铁、毫不迟疑，十分迅速而坚定。
“为什么？当然是因为我想再结婚。还能有什么原因呢？”
她蓝蓝的大眼睛机敏地眨着。
“但离婚肯定是可以的。”
“波洛先生，您不了解我丈夫。他是——他是——”她打了个颤。“我不知道该怎样解释。他不像其他正常人，他很古怪。”
她停了一下。接着说，
“他就不该和任何人结婚。我知道我在讲什么。我简直无法描述他，是个一怪人。您知道。他的前妻留下了三个月的婴儿，弃了他。他从未和她离婚，到她在国外悲惨地死去。然后他娶了我。可我再也忍受不了了。我真害怕，是我离开了他，了美国。我没有离婚的理由。就是我有离婚的理由，也不会理会。他是——他是个执迷不悟的人。”
“夫人，在美国的一些州您是可以离婚的。”
“我想居住在英国，那对我没用。”
“您想居住在英国？”
“是的。”
“您想和谁结婚？”
“就是因为这个。是默顿公爵。”
我深吸了一口气。到目前为止，默顿公爵让那些想给女儿许配人家的母亲们大失所望。这个年轻人是个有禁欲倾向的、狂热的英国国教高教会派的教徒。据说完全受他母亲，一位令人生畏的孀居的公爵夫人控制。他的生活极度朴素。他搜集中国瓷器，并很有艺术鉴赏能力。据推测他根本不关心女人。
“我真是为他疯狂了。”简动情地说，“他不像我遇到的其他人。另外默顿域堡棒极了。整个事是世上最浪漫的。他是这样英俊——像一个梦幻般的僧侣。”
她停顿片刻。
“我结婚后就放弃舞台生涯，我似乎什么都不在乎了。”
波洛不动声色地说：“这时埃奇韦尔男爵成了实现这些美梦的绊脚石。”
“是的，这事让我烦心。”她心事重重地靠到椅子上，“当然如果我们是在芝加哥，我可以很容易地谋杀他，但在这里好像不容易找枪手。”
“在这里，”波洛笑着说，“我们认为每个人都有活的权利。”
“哦，我不知道。我猜如果少了一些政客，你们的日子就会舒服一些。我除去埃奇韦尔男爵不是什么损失，反倒有益处。”
有人敲门，一个侍者送来了晚餐。简•威尔金森毫不在意他的存在，继续谈着她的话题。
“波洛光生。我不是让您为我杀他。”
“谢谢。夫人。”
“我想您能用什么聪明的方法劝劝他，让他接受这个想法。和我离婚。我相信您能做到。”
“夫人，我想您高估了我的说服能力。”
“哦！波洛先生，您一定能想出办法来的。”她前倾着身体。又睁大了大大的蓝眼睛。“您希望我快乐，是吧？”
她的声音非常温柔，充满诱惑。
“我希望每个人都快乐。”波洛小心谨慎地说。
“是的，但我没在想每个人。我只想我自己。”
“夫人，我得说您总是那样。”
她笑了。“您认为我自私吗？”
“哦！夫人，我可没这样说。”
“我敢说我是自私的。可您看。我不喜欢不快乐，它甚至会影响我的表演。如果他不离婚，或者不离开这世界，我会永远这样不快乐。”
“总之，”她又心事重重地说，“我是说，如果他死了，不错，我就更加觉得摆脱了他。”
她看着波洛先生希望得到同情。
“您会帮助我的，是吗？波洛先生。”她站了起来，拿起她的白色外套。乞求地盯着他的脸。门外走廊传来声音。门微开着。她继续说：“如果您不——”
“夫人，如果我不什么？”
她大笑。
“我就叫辆出租车，自己去把他杀了。”
她笑着穿过一个房门去了隔璧的房间。这时布赖恩•马丁和美国女孩卡洛塔•亚当斯，以及她的同伴和另外两个与布赖恩•马丁、简一起吃饭的人走了进来。那两位是威德伯恩夫妇。
“您好，”布赖恩说道，“简在哪里？我想告诉她我已顺利完成她交给我的任务。”
简从卧室走出来。她手里拿着一支口红。
“你找到她了？太好了。亚当斯小姐，我很欣赏您的表演。我想结识您。来坐一会和我谈谈，我再化一下妆。我看起来太糟糕了。”
卡洛塔•亚当斯接受了邀请。布赖恩•马丁重重地坐到椅子上。
“哦。波洛先生，”他说道，“您被及时地抓住了。简一定劝您为她而战了吧？您最好答应她，她根本不知道什么叫‘不’。”
“大概她还未遇到。”
“简有一种奇特的性格。”布赖恩•马丁说着，头仰着，悠闲地向天花板吐着烟圈，“禁忌对她不存在。也没什么道德不道德可言。我不是说她不道德——她不是。我相信，应该是非道德。她在生活中只能看到一样东西——就是她想要的东西。”
他大笑。
“我想她会很开心地杀死一个人，如果被抓住，被处决，她才会觉得是被伤害了。麻烦是她会被抓住的，因为她没头脑。她以为谋杀就是坐上出租车，以自己的名义去开枪。”
“我在想是什么让您这样说？”波洛喃喃道。
“哦？”
“先生，您很了解她吗？”
“我得说是很了解她。”
他又一次大笑，但我觉得他的笑有种不寻常的酸味。
他又突然转向别人问道：“你们同意我的说法，是吗？”
“哦！简是个利己主义者。”威德伯恩夫人同意道。“不过，一个演员要这样。我是说如果她要表达出她的个性。”
波洛没说话。他带着一种我不太明白的好奇的、审视的表情盯着布赖恩•马丁的脸。
这时简从隔壁的房间平稳地走出来，后面跟着卡洛塔•亚当斯。我猜测，现在简己经满意地“化完了妆”，至于什么妆，没人知道。她的脸还是那样。没有任何又一次上妆的痕迹。
接下来的晚要相当快乐，但有时我能感觉到一种我无法理解的潜流。
我没觉得简•威尔金森还有任何复杂之处。很明显她是那种只看眼前一事的年轻女士。她想和波洛见面，她达到了目的，毫无拖延地见到了波洛。显而易见地，她现在兴致很高。我料定她要卡洛塔•亚当斯参加晚宴只是一时兴致。她就像孩子一样。因为被很巧妙地模仿了而很高兴。
不对，我所感觉到的潜流和简•威尔金森无关。那是和谁有关呢？我轮流地研究着在座的客人。是布赖恩•马丁？他的表情当然不是很自然。但我又对自己说。那可能是因为他是电影名星的缘故。那是一个过分自高自大的爱慕荣耀者已习惯了的表演，不能轻易地放弃了。
无论怎样看，卡洛塔•亚当斯的表情都很自然。她是一个安静的女孩。声音低低的，很好听。既然我现在有了机会从近处看她，我就仔细地研究着她。我想，她是很迷人的，但带有一种消极的东西。她的声音决不刺耳、粗哑。她属于那种个性中带有一种柔顺的类型。她的外表属于消极的那一种一—软软的黑发、谈蓝色的眼睛、苍白的脸还有那富有动感、敏锐的嘴。这是一张你喜欢的面孔，但如果下一次她换了一身衣服的话，你再看见她，就很难辨认出了。
她好像对简的优雅风度和奉承话很开心。我在想，任何女孩都会这样，可就在那时，有什么微妙的东西让我改变了我的轻率的推断。
卡洛塔•亚当斯隔着桌子看着女主人”简正转过头和波洛先生说话。卡洛塔的目光里有一种好奇且审视的成分，在总结什么。同时我清晰地感觉到她的淡蓝色的眼睛里绝对有一种敌意。
大概只是羡慕，是因为职业嫉妒。简是一位已经到成功顶峰的艺人，卡洛塔只是正往上爬的人。
我看着晚宴上的其他三个人。威德伯恩先生是一位瘦长枯干的人。而威德伯思夫人矮矮胖胖的，说会道。他们是很富有的人，像对一切有关舞台的事情都感兴趣。事实上，们根本不想谈别的。因为我最近离开了英国一段时间。他们发现我对很多消息并不是很灵通。最后威德伯恩夫人索性转过身去。背对着我，也记不得我的存在了。
晚宴的最后一名人士是卡洛塔•亚当斯的同伴。那位圆面孔、深肤色、性格开朗的年轻人。从一开始我就怀疑他不如往常冷静，他喝了更多的香摈酒以后，一点愈发明显。
他好像受了很深的伤害，为在进餐的前半时段。他只是静静地坐在那里。直到后来，显然把我当作了他的知心老友，始向我吐露心声。
“我想说的是。”他说，不是的，。我的老朋友，是的——”
至于他说话的含混不清，更别提了。
“我是想说。”他继续说。“我问你？我的意思是，要是带着一个女孩——我是说——到处乱闯，处捣乱。我好像没对她说过一句我不该说的话。她不是那种人。你知道的——那些清教徒们——乘着‘五月花’号——等等。可恶！这女孩是正直的。我想说的是一—我都说了些什么？”
“你说事情难办。”
“唉，真可恶，是的。可恶。为了这宴会，我不得不向我的裁缝借钱。我的裁缝是一位热心助人的伙计。我欠他钱欠了很多年了。我们之间有一种契约。没什么能比得上契约，亲爱的老伙计。你和我。你和我。顺便问一下，你究竟是谁？”
“我叫黑斯廷斯。”
“你别这么说，我发誓你是一个叫斯宾塞•琼斯的伙计。亲爱的老斯宾塞•琼斯。我在伊顿和哈罗德时遇到他并从他那借了五英镑。我想说的是。人的面孔真是很像一—我就是想说这个。如果我们是一群中国人，我们彼此就分辨不清了。”
他悲哀地摇摇头。突然又振作起来，又喝了一些香摈酒。
“不管怎么说，”他说道，“我不是他妈的黑人。”
这一想法又让他得意洋洋起来，他又说了些乐观的话。
“朋友，往光明的一面看啊。”他恳切地对我说，“我要说的是，看光明的一面。总有一天，等我七十五岁左右的时候，我的叔叔死了。我就会成为一个富有的人。那时我就能还我的裁缝钱了。”
他坐在那里想着，很高兴地笑着。
说来奇怪，这个年轻人有什么地方令人喜欢。他圆圆的脸上很可笑地留着一小撮黑胡子，好似被困在沙漠中一样。
卡洛塔•亚当斯看了他一眼，我注意到，就是看过这一眼之后，她站了起来，也就结束了晚宴。
“非常感谢您能上来到我这里。”简说道，“我总是一时有了想法就要做出来。您是不是也是这样？”
“不是的。”亚当斯小姐说道，“我是做事之前先计划一下，这样避免多虑。”
她的态度里略微带有一点不愉快的成分。
“啊，不管怎么说。结果证明一切。”简笑着说，“我从未像今晚看您表演时那样高兴。”
美国小姐变得和气了一点。
“您过奖了。”她热情地说，“您这样说，我想我是很高兴。我需要鼓励，我们都需要鼓励。”
“卡洛塔，”留黑胡子的年轻人说道，“和简婶婶握手道谢，我们走吧。”
他能够集中精力一直地走出房门真是一个奇迹。卡洛塔赶紧跟了过去。
“啊”，简说道，“我听到什么，叫我简婶婶？我还没注意到他呢。”
“亲爱的，”威德伯恩夫人说，“您别理他。他从前在牛津大学戏剧社是一个很杰出的孩子。现在可不同了，您说是不是？我最痛恨看到原本大有作为的人最终一事无成。可是查理斯和我得走了。”
威德伯恩夫妇及时走了，布赖恩•马丁和他们一块出去了。
“那么。波洛先生？”
波洛微笑地望着她。
“怎么，埃奇韦尔夫人。”
“天哪。别这样叫我。如果您不是欧洲心肠最硬的人，就让我忘了这个吧。”
“唤。不、不、不，我不是硬心肠的人。”
我觉得波洛今天晚上多喝了酒，恐怕多喝了一两杯。
“那么您会去见我的丈夫？让他按我的意思办？”
“我会去见他。”波洛小心地应允了。
“如果他拒绝了您一—他可能会的一—您会为我想个好办法的。波洛先生，他们说您是欧洲最聪明的人。”
“夫人，当说我硬心肠时，您可以说欧洲，但要说我聪明，您最好说英国。”
“如果您把这件事解决了，我会说您是全世界最聪明的人。”
波洛摆手告饶。
“女士，我不能许诺什么。看在心理学的分上我会找机会和您的丈夫见一面。”
“您尽管用您的心理分析分析他好了。也许这对他有好处。但您可一定要成功——为了我的缘故。波洛先生，我要有我的浪漫生活。”
她又梦幻般地接着说：“想一想，那将是多么刺激啊。”
Chapter 3 The Man with the Gold Tooth镶金牙的男人
Chapter 3 The Man with the Gold Tooth
It was a few days later, when we were sitting at breakfast, that Poirot flung across to me a letter that he had just opened.
‘Well, mon ami,’ he said. ‘What do you think of that?’
The note was from Lord Edgware and in stiff formal language it made an appointment for the following day at eleven.
I must say that I was very much surprised. I had taken Poirot’s words uttered lightly in a convivial moment, and I had had no idea that he had actually taken steps to carry out his promise.
Poirot, who was very quick-witted, read my mind and his eyes twinkled a little.
‘But yes, mon ami, it was not solely the champagne.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘But yes - but yes - you thought to yourself, the poor old one, he has the spirit of the party, he promises things that he will not perform - that he has no intention of performing. But, my friend, the promises of Hercule Poirot are sacred.’
He drew himself up in a stately manner as he said the last words. ‘Of course. Of course. I know that,’ I said hastily. ‘But I thought that perhaps your judgment was slightly - what shall I say - influenced.’
‘I am not in the habit of letting my judgment be “influenced” as you call it, Hastings. The best and driest of champagne, the most golden-haired and seductive of women - nothing influences the judgment of Hercule Poirot. No, mon ami, I am interested - that is all.’
‘In Jane Wilkinson’s love affair?’
‘Not exactly that. Her love affair, as you call it, is a very commonplace business. It is a step in the successful career of a very beautiful woman. If the Duke of Merton had neither a title nor wealth his romantic likeness to a dreamy monk would no longer interest the lady. No, Hastings, what intrigues me is the psychology of the matter. The interplay of character. I welcome the chance of studying Lord Edgware at close quarters.’
‘You do not expect to be successful in your mission?’
‘Pourquoi pas? Every man has his weak spot. Do not imagine, Hastings, that because I am studying the case from a psychological standpoint, I shall not try my best to succeed in the commission entrusted to me. I always enjoy exercising my ingenuity.’
I had feared an allusion to the little grey cells and was thankful to be spared it.
‘So we go to Regent Gate at eleven tomorrow?’ I said.
‘We?’ Poirot raised his eyebrows quizzically.
‘Poirot!’ I cried. ‘You are not going to leave me behind. I always go with you.’
‘If it were a crime, a mysterious poisoning case, an assassination - ah! these are the things your soul delights in. But a mere matter of social adjustment?’
‘Not another word,’ I said determinedly. ‘I’m coming.’
Poirot laughed gently, and at that moment we were told that a gentleman had called.
To our great surprise our visitor proved to be Bryan Martin.
The actor looked older by daylight. He was still handsome, but it was a kind of ravaged handsomeness. It flashed across my mind that he might conceivably take drugs. There was a kind of nervous tension about him that suggested the possibility.
‘Good morning, M. Poirot,’ he said in a cheerful manner. ‘You and Captain Hastings breakfast at a reasonable hour, I am glad to see. By the way, I suppose you are very busy just now?’
Poirot smiled at him amiably.
‘No,’ he said. ‘At the moment I have practically no business of importance on hand.’
‘Come now,’ laughed Bryan. ‘Not called in by Scotland Yard? No delicate matters to investigate for Royalty? I can hardly believe it.’
‘You confound fiction with reality, my friend,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘I am, I assure you, at the moment completely out of work, though not yet on the dole. Dieu merci.’
‘Well, that’s luck for me,’ said Bryan with another laugh. ‘Perhaps you’ll take on something for me.’
Poirot considered the young man thoughtfully.
‘You have a problem for me - yes?’ he said in a minute or two.
‘Well - it’s like this. I have and I haven’t.’
This time his laugh was rather nervous. Still considering him thoughtfully, Poirot indicated a chair. The young man took it. He sat facing us, for I had taken a seat by Poirot’s side.
‘And now,’ said Poirot, ‘let us hear all about it.’
Bryan Martin still seemed to have a little difficulty in getting under way.
‘The trouble is that I can’t tell you quite as much as I’d like to.’ He hesitated. ‘It’s difficult. You see, the whole business started in America.’
‘In America? Yes?’
‘A mere incident first drew my attention to it. As a matter of fact, I was travelling by train and I noticed a certain fellow. Ugly little chap, clean-shaven, glasses, and a gold tooth.’
‘Ah! a gold tooth.’
‘Exactly. That’s really the crux of the matter.’
Poirot nodded his head several times.
‘I begin to comprehend. Go on.’
‘Well, as I say. I just noticed the fellow. I was travelling, by the way, to New York. Six months later I was in Los Angeles, and I noticed the fellow again. Don’t know why I should have - but I did. Still, nothing in that.’
‘Continue.’
‘A month afterwards I had occasion to go to Seattle, and shortly after I got there who should I see but my friend again, only this time he wore a beard.’
‘Distinctly curious.’
‘Wasn’t it? Of course I didn’t fancy it had anything to do with me at that time, but when I saw the man again in Los Angeles, beardless, in Chicago with a moustache and different eyebrows and in a mountain village disguised as a hobo - well, I began to wonder.’
‘Naturally.’
‘And at last - well, it seemed odd - but not a doubt about it. I was being what you call shadowed.’
‘Most remarkable.’
‘Wasn’t it? After that I made sure of it. Wherever I was, there, somewhere near at hand, was my shadow made up in different disguises. Fortunately, owing to the gold tooth, I could always spot him.’
‘Ah! that gold tooth, it was a very fortunate occur-rence.’
‘It was.’
‘Pardon me, M. Martin, but did you never speak to the man? Question him as to the reason of his persistent shadowing?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ The actor hesitated. ‘I thought of doing so once or twice, but I always decided against it. It seemed to me that I should merely put the fellow on his guard and learn nothing. Possibly once they had discovered that I had spotted him, they would have put someone else on my track - someone whom I might not recognize.’
‘En effet . . . someone without that useful gold tooth.’
‘Exactly. I may have been wrong - but that’s how I figured it out.’
‘Now, M. Martin, you referred to “they” just now. Whom did you mean by “they”?’
‘It was a mere figure of speech used for convenience. I assumed - I don’t know why - a nebulous “they” in the background.’
‘Have you any reason for that belief ?’
‘None.’
‘You mean you have no conception of who could want you shadowed or for what purpose?’
‘Not the slightest idea. At least -’
‘Continuez,’ said Poirot encouragingly.
‘I have an idea,’ said Bryan Martin slowly. ‘It’s a mere guess on my part, mind.’
‘A guess may be very successful sometimes, Monsieur.’
‘It concerns a certain incident that took place in London about two years ago. It was a slight incident, but an inexplicable and an unforgettable one. I’ve often wondered and puzzled over it. Just because I could find no explanation of it at the time, I am inclined to wonder if this shadowing business might not be connected in some way with it - but for the life of me I can’t see why or how.’
‘Perhaps I can.’
‘Yes, but you see -’ Bryan Martin’s embarrassment returned. ‘The awkward thing is that I can’t tell you about it - not now, that is. In a day or so I might be able to.’
Stung into further speech by Poirot’s inquiring glance he continued desperately.
‘You see - a girl was concerned in it.’
‘Ah! parfaitement! An English girl?’
‘Yes. At least - why?’
‘Very simple. You cannot tell me now, but you hope to do so in a day or two. That means that you want to obtain the consent of the young lady. Therefore she is in England. Also, she must have been in England during the time you were shadowed, for if she had been in America you would have sought her out then and there. Therefore, since she has been in England for the last eighteen months she is probably, though not certainly, English. It is good reasoning that, eh?’
‘Rather. Now tell me, M. Poirot, if I get her permission, will you look into the matter for me?’
There was a pause. Poirot seemed to be debating the matter in his mind. Finally he said:
‘Why have you come to me before going to her?’
‘Well, I thought -’ he hesitated. ‘I wanted to persuade her to - to clear things up - I mean to let things be cleared up by you. What I mean is, if you investigate the affair, nothing need be made public, need it?’
‘That depends,’ said Poirot calmly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If there is any question of crime -’
‘Oh! there’s no crime concerned.’
‘You do not know. There may be.’
‘But you would do your best for her - for us?’
‘That, naturally.’
He was silent for a moment and then said:
‘Tell me, this follower of yours - this shadow - of what age was he?’
‘Oh! quite youngish. About thirty.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘That is indeed remarkable. Yes, that makes the whole thing very much more interesting.’
I stared at him. So did Bryan Martin. This remark of his was, I am sure, equally unexplicable to us both. Bryan questioned me with a lift of the eyebrows. I shook my head.
‘Yes,’ murmured Poirot. ‘It makes the whole story very interesting.’
‘He may have been older,’ said Bryan doubtfully, ‘but I don’t think so.’
‘No, no, I am sure your observation is quite accurate, M. Martin. Very interesting - extraordinarily interesting.’
Rather taken aback by Poirot’s enigmatical words, Bryan Martin seemed at a loss what to say or do next. He started making desultory conversation.
‘An amusing party the other night,’ he said. ‘Jane Wilkinson is the most high-handed woman that ever existed.’
‘She has the single vision,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘One thing at a time.’
‘She gets away with it, too,’ said Martin. ‘How people stand it, I don’t know!’
‘One will stand a good deal from a beautiful woman, my friend,’ said Poirot with a twinkle. ‘If she had the pug nose, the sallow skin, the greasy hair, then - ah! then she would not “get away with it” as you put it.’
‘I suppose not,’ conceded Bryan. ‘But it makes me mad sometimes. All the same, I’m devoted to Jane, though in some ways, mind you, I don’t think she’s quite all there.’
‘On the contrary, I should say she was very much on the spot.’
‘I don’t mean that, exactly. She can look after her interests all right. She’s got plenty of business shrewdness. No, I mean morally.’
‘Ah! morally.’
‘She’s what they call amoral. Right and wrong don’t exist for her.’
‘Ah! I remember you said something of the kind the other evening.’
‘We were talking of crime just now -’
‘Yes, my friend?’
‘Well, it would never surprise me if Jane committed a crime.’
‘And you should know her well,’ murmured Poirot thoughtfully. ‘You have acted much with her, have you not?’
‘Yes. I suppose I know her through and through and up and down. I can see her killing, and quite easily.’
‘Ah! she has the hot temper, yes?’
‘No, no, not at all. Cool as a cucumber. I mean if anyone were in her way she’d just remove them - without a thought. And one couldn’t really blame her - morally, I mean. She’d just think that anyone who interfered with Jane Wilkinson had got to go.’
There was a bitterness in his last words that had been lacking heretofore. I wondered what memory he was recalling.
‘You think she would do - murder?’
Poirot watched him intently.
Bryan drew a deep breath.
‘Upon my soul, I do. Perhaps one of these days, you’ll remember my words . . . I know her, you see. She’d kill as easily as she’d drink her morning tea. I mean it, M. Poirot.’
He had risen to his feet.
‘Yes,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘I can see you mean it.’
‘I know her,’ said Bryan Martin again, ‘through and through.’
He stood frowning for a minute, then with a change of tone, he said:
‘As to this business we’ve been talking about, I’ll let you know, M. Poirot, in a few days. You will undertake it, won’t you?’
Poirot looked at him for a moment or two without replying.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘I will undertake it. I find it - interesting.’
There was something queer in the way he said the last word. I went downstairs with Bryan Martin. At the door he said to me:
‘Did you get the hang of what he meant about that fellow’s age? I mean, why was it interesting that he should be about thirty? I didn’t get the hang of that at all.’
‘No more did I,’ I admitted.
‘It doesn’t seem to make sense. Perhaps he was just having a game with me.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Poirot is not like that. Depend upon it, the point has significance since he says so.’
‘Well, blessed if I can see it. Glad you can’t either. I’d hate to feel I was a complete nut.’
He strode away. I rejoined my friend.
‘Poirot,’ I said. ‘What was the point about the age of the shadower?’
‘You do not see? My poor Hastings!’ He smiled and shook his head. Then he asked: ‘What did you think of our interview on the whole?’
‘There’s so little to go upon. It seems difficult to say. If we knew more -’
‘Even without knowing more, do not certain ideas suggest themselves to you, mon ami?’
The telephone ringing at that moment saved me from the ignominy of admitting that no ideas whatever suggested themselves to me. I took up the receiver.
A woman’s voice spoke, a crisp, clear efficient voice.
‘This is Lord Edgware’s secretary speaking. Lord Edgware regrets that he must cancel the appointment with M. Poirot for tomorrow morning. He has to go over to Paris tomorrow unexpectedly. He could see M. Poirot for a few minutes at a quarter-past twelve this morning if that would be convenient.’
I consulted Poirot.
‘Certainly, my friend, we will go there this morning.’
I repeated this into the mouthpiece.
‘Very good,’ said the crisp business-like voice. ‘A quarter-past twelve this morning.’
She rang off.

第三章 镶金牙的男人
几天以后，我们正一起吃早饭的时候，波洛把一封他刚刚拆阅的信扔给我看。
“啊，我的朋友，”他说，“你对此事有何高见？”
那封短笺是埃奇韦尔男爵写来的。他以呆板正式的语凋约定第二天的十一点会面。
我必须承认我很惊讶。我原以为波洛那ˉ次所说的话是酒后一时兴起随口说的。没想到他还真的行动起来、履行他的诺旨了。
波洛是很聪明的人，他一眼看出了我的想法，眼睛略微眨了眨。
“是啊。我的朋友。我答应她可不是因为喝了点香摈酒的缘故。”
“我并不是那个意思。”
“不，是的。你就是那么想的。可怜的老伙计，吃饭的时候多喝了几杯，他就答应做自己根本做不到的事。他本来也没打算真去做的。但是，我的朋友，波洛的许诺是绝对神圣的。”
他说最后那句话时，摆出一副庄严的样子。“当然。当然，我是知道的。”我赶紧说，“我只是觉得，你的判断有点——怎么说呢——有点受外界影响。”
“我的判断力绝对不会受什么你所谓的‘外界影响’，黑斯廷斯。任何上等、最纯的香摈酒，任何金发碧眼、绝顶诱人的美女都不会影响赫尔克里•波洛的判断。不能的，老天保佑，我只是感兴趣。就是因为这个，没别的。”
“对简•威尔金森的爱情问题感兴趣？”
“不完全是因为那个。你所说的那个爱情问题是一个很平常的事情。那是一位想获取成功的女士必走之路。如果那位默顿公爵既无贵族头衔又无财产”那梦幻僧侣的浪漫又怎能引起我们这位女士的兴趣呢？不是的。黑斯廷斯，我着迷的是这件事的心理因素。性格之间的相互关系。我希望能够有机会从近处研究一下埃奇韦尔男爵。”
“那么，并非一定要完成你的使命吧？”
“为什么不呢？每个人都有他的弱点。黑斯廷斯。不要以为我因为从心理学的角度来研究这个案子就不会尽力完成别人委托我的任务了。我总是喜欢有机会施展我的聪明才智的。”
我还以为他又要扯到什么脑细胞呢，天谢地，没说这个。
“那么我们明天上午十一点去摄政门？”我问道。
“我们？”波洛挪愉地扬起眉毛。
“波洛！”我大声说道，你不会把我一个人扔下吧。我可总是和你一起办案的。”
“啊，是犯罪事件，个神秘的投毒案，是暗杀什么的。你还会感兴趣。可这只是一个社会问题。”
“你不要再说了，我坚定地说，我去定了。”
波洛宽厚地笑了。就在这个时候，人来报有一位绅士来访。
令我们惊奇的是，访者是布赖恩•马丁。
在白天这位演员就显得有些老了。他看起来还是很英俊，这种英俊带有一种颓废的感觉。我脑中突然掠过一个想法，可能用什么麻醉品。他那种神情紧张的样子真让人觉得这猜测有可能。
“早上好，洛先生。”他带着愉快的态度问候道，您和黑斯廷斯上尉吃早饭的时间真是不早不晚，好。对了，们是不是很忙？”
波洛友善地望着他。
“不是的，他说道，目前我手头还真没有什么重要的事。”
“得了，布赖恩笑着说，没被伦敦警察厅叫去？没为皇室调查什么复杂的事情？我可不相信。”
“我的朋友，把现实和想象弄混了。”波洛笑着说道，我可以向你保证，现在尽管还没靠救济金生活，也是完全没事做了。老天保佑”
“那么我的运气也不错了。”布赖思哈哈大笑地说道，“大概你可以为我办些事了。”
波洛谨慎地琢磨着这个年轻人。
“你有什么问题要我调查，是吗？”波洛过了几分钟后问道。
“晤，是这样的。可以说有，也可以说没有。”
布赖恩这时的笑就有点不安的成分了。波洛仍是谨慎地琢磨着他，示意他坐下。他坐到椅子上。正好面对我们，因为我是坐在波洛的旁边。
“那么，现在，”波洛说道，“就让我们听听吧。”
布赖恩•马丁似乎仍有些困难不能马上说出来。
“问题是我不能将事实完全讲给您听。”他犹豫了一下说，“很难讲的。您知道，事情得从美国讲起。”
“从美国？怎么了？”
“那是一件偶然发生的事，但引起了我的注意。事实上，我是正在火车上的时侯，忽然注意到一个人，一个长得很丑的家伙，脸刮得光光的，戴着眼镜，镶着一颗金牙。”
“啊！一颗金牙！”
“是的，一点儿也不错，这正是事情的关键。”
波洛不断地点着头。
“我开始有点儿明白了。说下去。”
“晤。正如我说的，我注意上了他，那时我是去纽约。而六个月之后，在洛杉矾我又注意到了他。不知道为什么，可我确实又注意到了他。当然，这也没什么。”
“接着说。”
“一个月后我去西雅图，到那不久。您猜我遇到了谁？又是那家伙，只是这时他留着胡子。”
“真奇怪！”
“很奇怪，是吧。当然那个时候我根本没想到这件事和我有什么关系。但是，后来我又在洛杉矾遇到他。没留胡子。而后在芝加哥，嘴上留着胡子。眉毛有些不同了。以后在一个山村里，我又见到了他，像个无业游民。我开始怀疑了。”
“这是很自然的。”
“后来，晤，就有点奇怪了。毫无疑问的是他像影子一样跟着我。”
“太奇怪了。”
“可不是吗。而后我知道他是在盯梢了。无论我走到哪，他都跟到哪。就在我附近，每次都化着不同的妆。幸亏有那颗金牙。我总是能认出他来。”
“啊！那颗金牙！幸亏了。”
“是啊。”
“马丁先生，恕我冒昧，你和那个人说过话吗？问过他为什么总跟着你？”
“没有。我没问过他。”那个演员犹豫了一下，“有一两次我本打算问他的，但是考虑一番后我还是决定不去问他。我觉得，如果我那样做，只会让他警惕，而我什么也问不出来。很可能他们知道我已经注意到他后，会派另一个人来跟踪——一个我不认识的人。”
“是啊！一个没镶有用的金牙的人。”
“一点不错。我可能想得不对，不过，我就是那样想的。”
“那么，马丁先生，刚才你说到“他们”。他们，是什么意思？”
“这只是顺口说说而已。我也不知为什么我就猜测隐隐约约地有。他们，在幕后操纵。”
“你有什么理由这样认为吗？”
“没有。”
“你的意思是你不知道谁在跟踪你，也不知道因为什么？”
“一点儿也不知道。至少——”
“说下去。”波洛鼓励地说道。
“我想起来了。”布赖恩慢慢地说道，“不过，您可要注意，这只是我自己的猜测。”
“先生，猜测往往是正确的。”
“这与两年前在伦敦发生的一件事情有关。尽管这是一件小事，但却很难解释，也很难让人忘怀。我对这事始终是百思不解。原因只是在那个时候我根本找不出什么恰当的解释。我就想这件事会不会和被跟踪有关系。但是我是无论如何也想不出为什么这两者有联系，又是如何有联系的。”
“也许我能知道。”
“是的”是您要知道，”布赖思又有些窘迫了，我觉得很窘，为我不能告诉您事情的原委——我是说现在还不能告诉您。但是一两天以后，许我能告诉您。”
波洛用探究的眼光看着他，得他不得不破釜沉舟地说下去。
“您知道，和一位女孩有关。”
“啊！一定是这样！是一个英国女孩吧？”
“是的，至少——您怎么知道？”
“很简单。你说现在不能告诉我，要等上一两天。也就是说你要征得这位年轻女士的同意。因为她是在英国国内。另外，当你被人跟踪时，她一定是在英国，因为如果那时她是在美国，你当时就可以就近找到她。所以。她近十八个月来是在英国，那么我不能断言，但至少她可能是英国人。这个推理还不错，是吧？”
“当然！波洛先生。现在我问您，如果我征得了她的允许，您能替我调查吗？”
接着是一阵沉默，波洛心里似乎还矛盾着。最后他说道：“为什么你不先去她那儿而来我这儿呢？”
“晤，我是想——”他犹豫了一下说，“我是想劝她把事情弄清楚，我是想让您把事情弄清楚。我的意思是说，由您来调查这事，就根本不需要太张扬了，不是吗？”
“那要视情形而定了。”波洛冷静地说。
“您是什么意思？”
“我的意思是，如果和犯罪无关的话——”
“唤！这件事与犯罪无关。”
“也许有关，你不知道。”
“但您会为她——为我们，尽力的。是吗？”
“那是自然。”
他沉默片刻后说道：“告诉我，那个跟踪你的人有多大年纪？”
“啊，还是很年轻的，大概有三十岁吧。”
“啊！”波洛说道，“这可值得注意了。对了，这使得整个事件更有意思了。”
我盯着他。布赖恩•马丁也望着他。我肯定，他说的这些话的用意，我俩都没琢磨透。布赖恩眉毛挑了挑，示意问我。我则摇了摇头。
“是的。”波洛低声地说，“这使得整个事情更有趣了。”
“他也许岁数更大一些”，布赖恩说道。“但我不这样认为。”
“是的，是的。我肯定你的观察力是很强的，马丁先生。很有趣——真是很有趣。”
马丁听了波洛令人迷惑的话一愣，茫茫然好像不知往下该说什么、该做什么。他开始讲一些无关紧要的话题。
“那天的晚宴真有趣。”马丁说，“简•威尔金森是世界上最专横的女人。”
“她很筒单地看事情。”波洛笑着说，“在某一时刻，她只能看到一样东西。”
“她还总是能够达到目的。”马丁说，“我真不知道人们是怎样忍受她的。”
“我的朋友啊，面对一个漂亮女人，人们的忍受力是极强的。”波洛眨着眼睛说道，“如果她长着扁扁的鼻子，蜡黄的面孔，油腻腻的头发，那么，她决不会像你所说的。达到目的。”
“我想不会的。”布赖恩承认道，“但有的时候，她会让我生气。虽然是这样，我对筒还是忠心的，尽管在某些方面，我得说，她有些不正常。”
“恰恰相反，我认为她是一个做事极有条理的人。”
“我并非指这个。她能够很好地维护自己的利益，她相当聪明。不，我指的是道德上的。”
“啊！道德上的。”
“她是那种所谓超道德型的。正确与错误对于她来说不存在。”
“啊！我记得那天晚上你说过这类的话。”
“我们刚才不是在谈犯罪的事吗？”
“怎么，我的朋友？”
“怎么说呢，如果简犯罪的话，我绝对不奇怪。”
“你该是很了解她的。”波洛若有所思地低声说，“你和她一起演过很多戏的，不是吗？”
“是的。我对她极为了解。我相信她会轻轻松松地去杀人。”
“啊！她脾气很坏，是不是？”
“不是的，不是的。她头脑很冷静。我的意思是说，无论谁妨碍了她，她就会毫不迟疑地除掉他。而且从道义上讲，人们还不能责备她，她只是认为任何妨碍简•威尔金森的人都要退后。”
他最后的话里面有一种原来未显露过的怨恨。我在猜测他是想起了什么事。
“你认为她会——谋杀？”
波洛目不转睛地盯着他。
布赖思深深地吸了一口气。
“从我内心深处，我觉得她会的。大概有一天，您会记起我的话的。——您知道，我了解她。她杀人就像喝早茶一样容易。我可是说真的。波洛先生。”
他站了起来。
“是的。”波洛镇静地回答说，“我明白你是认真的。”
“我了解她”，布赖恩又说道，“彻头彻尾地了解她。”
他皱了一会眉头，然后换了一种口气说道，
“关于我们刚才说的那件事，波洛先生，几天之内我会让您知道的。您会着手这件事的，是吧？”
波洛看了他一阵，没说话。
“是的”，他最后说，“我接下这活了。我发现这件事——很有趣。”
他最后的话说得怪怪的。我和布赖恩•马丁一起走下楼去。在门旁，他对我说，
“你知道他为什么问那家伙的年纪吗？我是说，为什么他三十岁就很有趣呢？我真不明白。”
“我也不明白。”我承认道。
“这实际上毫无意义。大概他是在和我开玩笑。”
“不会的，”我说道，“波洛不是那样的。他只要问了，就会有意义的。”
“哦。老天保佑我能明白这一点。我很高兴你也不明白。我最恨感觉就自己像个大傻瓜。”
他走开了。我又回到波洛那儿。
“波洛，”我说道，“你为什么要问那个跟踪者的年纪？”
“你不明白？我可怜的黑斯廷斯！”他笑着摇摇头，然后又问我道，“你怎样看我们这次会面？”
“好像没什么。很难说。如果我们知道得更多——”
“就是知道得不多。你没想到什么吗？我的朋友。”
这时电话铃响了，我拿起了听筒。
是一位女士的声音，干脆利落。
“我是埃奇韦尔男爵的秘书。很遗憾，埃奇韦尔男爵不得不取消明天上午的会面。有突发事情，他明天要去巴黎。如果波洛先生方便的话，他可以在今天十二点十五分与波洛先生见一下。”
我问波洛。
“当然可以。我的朋友，我们今天就去。”
我向话筒重复了这话。
“很好，”那人以利索、公事公办的口气说，“今天十二点十五分。”
她挂断了电话。
Chapter 4 An Interview会面
Chapter 4 An Interview
I arrived with Poirot at Lord Edgware’s house in Regent Gate in a very pleasant state of anticipation. Though I had not Poirot’s devotion to ‘the psychology’, yet the few words in which Lady Edgware had referred to her husband had aroused my curiosity. I was anxious to see what my own judgment would be.
The house was an imposing one - well-built, handsome and slightly gloomy. There were no window-boxes or such frivolities.
The door was opened to us promptly, and by no aged white-haired butler such as would have been in keeping with the exterior of the house. On the contrary, it was opened by one of the handsomest young men I have ever seen. Tall, fair, he might have posed to a sculptor for Hermes or Apollo. Despite his good looks there was something vaguely effeminate that I disliked about the softness of his voice. Also, in a curious way, he reminded me of someone - someone, too, whom I had met quite lately - but who it was I could not for the life of me remember.
We asked for Lord Edgware.
‘This way, sir.’
He led us along the hall, past the staircase, to a door at the rear of the hall.
Opening it, he announced us in that same soft voice which I instinctively distrusted.
The room into which we were shown was a kind of library. The walls were lined with books, the furnishings were dark and sombre but handsome, the chairs were formal and not too comfortable.
Lord Edgware, who rose to receive us, was a tall man of about fifty. He had dark hair streaked with grey, a thin face and a sneering mouth. He looked bad-tempered and bitter. His eyes had a queer secretive look about them. There was something, I thought, distinctly odd about those eyes.
His manner was stiff and formal.
‘M. Hercule Poirot? Captain Hastings? Please be seated.’
We sat down. The room felt chilly. There was little light coming in from the one window and the dimness contributed to the cold atmosphere.
Lord Edgware had taken up a letter which I saw to be in my friend’s handwriting.
‘I am familiar, of course, with your name, M. Poirot. Who is not?’ Poirot bowed at the compliment. ‘But I cannot quite understand your position in this matter. You say that you wish to see me on behalf of ’ - he paused - ‘my wife.’
He said the last two words in a peculiar way - as though it were an effort to get them out.
‘That is so,’ said my friend.
‘I understood that you were an investigator of - crime, M. Poirot?’
‘Of problems, Lord Edgware. There are problems of crime, certainly. There are other problems.’
‘Indeed. And what may this one be?’
The sneer in his words was palpable by now. Poirot took no notice of it.
‘I have the honour to approach you on behalf of Lady Edgware,’ he said. ‘Lady Edgware, as you may know, desires - a divorce.’
‘I am quite aware of that,’ said Lord Edgware coldly.
‘Her suggestion was that you and I should discuss the matter.’
‘There is nothing to discuss.’
‘You refuse, then?’
‘Refuse? Certainly not.’
Whatever else Poirot had expected, he had not expected this. It is seldom that I have seen my friend utterly taken aback, but I did on this occasion. His appearance was ludicrous. His mouth fell open, his hands flew out, his eyebrows rose. He looked like a cartoon in a comic paper.
‘Comment?’ he cried. ‘What is this? You do not refuse?’
‘I am at a loss to understand your astonishment, M. Poirot.’
‘Ecoutez, you are willing to divorce your wife?’
‘Certainly I am willing. She knows that perfectly well. I wrote and told her so.’
‘You wrote and told her so?’
‘Yes. Six months ago.’
‘But I do not understand. I do not understand at all.’ Lord Edgware said nothing.
‘I understood that you were opposed to the principle of divorce.’
‘I do not see that my principles are your business, M. Poirot. It is true that I did not divorce my first wife. My conscience would not allow me to do so. My second marriage, I will admit frankly, was a mistake. When my wife suggested a divorce, I refused point blank. Six months ago she wrote to me again urging the point. I have an idea she wanted to marry again - some film actor or fellow of that kind. My views had, by this time, undergone modification. I wrote to her at Hollywood telling her so. Why she has sent you to me I cannot imagine. I suppose it is a question of money.’
His lips sneered again as he said the last words.
‘Extremely curious,’ muttered Poirot. ‘Extremely curious. There is something here I do not understand at all.’
‘As regards money,’ went on Lord Edgware. ‘My wife deserted me of her own accord. If she wishes to marry another man, I can set her free to do so, but there is no reason why she should receive a penny from me and she will not do so.’
‘There is no question of any financial arrangement.’
Lord Edgware raised his eyebrows.
‘Jane must be marrying a rich man,’ he murmured cynically.
‘There is something here that I do not understand,’ said Poirot. His face was perplexed and wrinkled with the effort of thought. ‘I understood from Lady Edgware that she had approached you repeatedly through lawyers?’
‘She did,’ replied Lord Edgware dryly. ‘English lawyers, American lawyers, every kind of lawyer, down to the lowest kind of scallywag. Finally, as I say, she wrote to me herself.’
‘You have previously refused?’
‘That is so.’
‘But on receiving her letter, you changed your mind. Why did you change your mind, Lord Edgware?’
‘Not on account of anything in that letter,’ he said sharply. ‘My views happened to have changed, that is all.’
‘The change was somewhat sudden.’
Lord Edgware did not reply.
‘What special circumstances brought about your change of mind, Lord Edgware?’
‘That, really, is my own business M. Poirot. I cannot enter into the subject. Shall we say that gradually I had perceived the advantages of severing what - you will forgive my plain speaking - I considered a degrading association. My second marriage was a mistake.’
‘Your wife says the same,’ said Poirot softly.
‘Does she?’
There was a queer flicker for a moment in his eyes, but it was gone almost at once.
He rose with an air of finality and as we said goodbye his manner became less unbending.
‘You must forgive my altering the appointment. I have to go over to Paris tomorrow.’
‘Perfectly - perfectly.’
‘A sale of works of art as a matter of fact. I have my eye on a little statuette - a perfect thing in its way - a macabre way, perhaps. But I enjoy the macabre. I always have. My taste is peculiar.’
Again that queer smile. I had been looking at the books in the shelves near. There were the memoirs of Casanova, also a volume on the Comte de Sade, another on mediaeval tortures.
I remembered Jane Wilkinson’s little shudder as she spoke of her husband. That had not been acting. That had been real enough. I wondered exactly what kind of a man George Alfred St Vincent Marsh, fourth Baron Edgware, was.
Very suavely he bid us farewell, touching the bell as he did so. We went out of the door. The Greek god of a butler was waiting in the hall. As I closed the library door behind me, I glanced back into the room. I almost uttered an exclamation as I did so.
That suave smiling face was transformed. The lips were drawn back from the teeth in a snarl, the eyes were alive with fury and an almost insane rage.
I wondered no longer that two wives had left Lord Edgware. What I did marvel at was the iron self-control of the man. To have gone through that interview with such frozen self-control, such aloof politeness!
Just as we reached the front door, a door on the right opened. A girl stood at the doorway of the room, shrinking back a little as she saw us.
She was a tall slender girl, with dark hair and a white face. Her eyes, dark and startled, looked for a moment into mine. Then, like a shadow, she shrank back into the room again, closing the door.
A moment later we were out in the street. Poirot hailed a taxi. We got in and he told the man to drive to the Savoy.
‘Well, Hastings,’ he said with a twinkle, ‘that interview did not go at all as I figured to myself it would.’
‘No, indeed. What an extraordinary man Lord Edgware is.’
I related to him how I had looked back before closing the door of the study and what I had seen. He nodded his head slowly and thoughtfully.
‘I fancy that he is very near the border line of madness, Hastings. I should imagine he practises many curious vices, and that beneath his frigid exterior he hides a deep-rooted instinct of cruelty.’
‘It is no wonder both his wives left him.’
‘As you say.’
‘Poirot, did you notice a girl as we were coming out? A dark girl with a white face.’
‘Yes, I noticed her, mon ami. A young lady who was frightened and not happy.’
His voice was grave.
‘Who do you think she was?’
‘Probably his daughter. He has one.’
‘She did look frightened,’ I said slowly. ‘That house must be a gloomy place for a young girl.’
‘Yes, indeed. Ah! here we are, mon ami. Now to acquaint her ladyship with the good news.’
Jane was in, and after telephoning, the clerk informed us that we were to go up. A page-boy took us to the door.
It was opened by a neat middle-aged woman with glasses and primly arranged grey hair. From the bedroom Jane’s voice, with its husky note, called to her.
‘Is that M. Poirot, Ellis? Make him sit right down. I’ll find a rag to put on and be there in a moment.’
Jane Wilkinson’s idea of a rag was a gossamer negligee which revealed more than it hid. She came in eagerly, saying: ‘Well?’
Poirot rose and bowed over her hand.
‘Exactly the word, Madame, it is well.’
‘Why - how do you mean?’
‘Lord Edgware is perfectly willing to agree to a divorce.’
‘What?’
Either the stupefaction on her face was genuine, or else she was indeed a most marvellous actress.
‘M. Poirot! You’ve managed it! At once! Like that! Why, you’re a genius. How in mercy’s name did you set about it?’
‘Madame, I cannot take compliments where they are not earned. Six months ago your husband wrote to you withdrawing his opposition.’
‘What’s that you say? Wrote to me? Where?’
‘It was when you were at Hollywood, I understand.’
‘I never got it. Must have gone astray, I suppose. And to think I’ve been thinking and planning and fretting and going nearly crazy all these months.’
‘Lord Edgware seemed to be under the impression that you wished to marry an actor.’
‘Naturally. That’s what I told him.’ She gave a pleased child’s smile. Suddenly it changed to a look of alarm. ‘Why, M. Poirot, you did not go and tell him about me and the duke?’
‘No, no, reassure yourself. I am discreet. That would not have done, eh?’
‘Well, you see, he’s got a queer mean nature. Marrying Merton, he’d feel, was perhaps a kind of leg up for me - so then naturally he’d queer the pitch. But a film actor’s different. Though, all the same, I’m surprised. Yes, I am. Aren’t you surprised, Ellis?’
I had noticed that the maid had come to and fro from the bedroom tidying away various outdoor garments which were lying flung over the backs of chairs. It had been my opinion that she had been listening to the conversation. Now it seemed that she was completely in Jane’s confidence.
‘Yes, indeed, m’lady. His lordship must have changed a good deal since we knew him,’ said the maid spitefully.
‘Yes, he must.’
‘You cannot understand his attitude. It puzzles you?’ suggested Poirot.
‘Oh, it does. But anyway, we needn’t worry about that. What does it matter what made him change his mind so long as he has changed it?’
‘It may not interest you, but it interests me, Madame.’
Jane paid no attention to him.
‘The thing is that I’m free - at last.’
‘Not yet, Madame.’
She looked at him impatiently.
‘Well, going to be free. It’s the same thing.’
Poirot looked as though he did not think it was.
‘The duke is in Paris,’ said Jane. ‘I must cable him right away. My - won’t his old mother be wild!’
Poirot rose.
‘I am glad, Madame, that all is turning out as you wish.’
‘Goodbye, M. Poirot, and thanks awfully.’
‘I did nothing.’
‘You brought me the good news, anyway, M. Poirot, and I’m ever so grateful. I really am.’
‘And that is that,’ said Poirot to me, as we left the suite. ‘The single idea - herself ! She has no speculation, no curiosity as to why that letter never reached her. You observe, Hastings, she is shrewd beyond belief in the business sense, but she has absolutely no intellect. Well, well, the good God cannot give everything.’
‘Except to Hercule Poirot,’ I said dryly.
‘You mock yourself at me, my friend,’ he replied serenely. ‘But come, let me walk along the Embankment. I wish to arrange my ideas with order and method.’
I maintained a discreet silence until such time as the oracle should speak.
‘That letter,’ he resumed when we were pacing along by the river. ‘It intrigues me. There are four solutions of that problem, my friend.’
‘Four?’
‘Yes. First, it was lost in the post. That does happen, you know. But not very often. No, not very often. Incorrectly addressed, it would have been returned to Lord Edgware long before this. No, I am inclined to rule out that solution - though, of course, it may be the true one.
‘Solution two, our beautiful lady is lying when she says she never received it. That, of course, is quite possible. That charming lady is capable of telling any lie to her advantage with the most childlike candour. But I cannot see, Hastings, how it could be to her advantage. If she knows that he will divorce her, why send me to ask him to do so? It does not make sense.
‘Solution three. Lord Edgware is lying. And if anyone is lying it seems more likely that it is he than his wife. But I do not see much point in such a lie. Why invent a fictitious letter sent six months ago? Why not simply agree to my proposition? No, I am inclined to think that he did send that letter - though what the motive was for his sudden change of attitude I cannot guess.
‘So we come to the fourth solution - that someone suppressed that letter. And there, Hastings, we enter on a very interesting field of speculation, because that letter could have been suppressed at either end - in America or England.
‘Whoever suppressed it was someone who did not want that marriage dissolved. Hastings, I would give a great deal to know what is behind this affair. There is something - I swear there is something.’
He paused and then added slowly.
‘Something of which as yet I have only been able to get a glimpse.’

第四章 会面
我和波洛带着一种愉快、满怀期待的心情来到摄政门埃奇韦尔男爵的府郧。尽管我不像波洛那样热衷于“心理研究”，埃奇韦尔夫人讲的关于她丈夫的话还是引起了我的好奇心。我很想看看我自已的判断会是什么样。
埃奇韦尔男爵的府邸很气派，建筑考究，式样漂亮，还有些阴森森的。窗台上没有任何花盆或其它装饰用的摆设。
门立刻打开了。按照这座房子的外观，出来的该是一位白发苍苍的老管家才对。但是出来开门的却是一个我曾见过的极英俊的年轻人。个头高高的，皮肤白白的，是雕塑家们雕塑赫耳墨斯或阿波罗的理想模特。不过尽管他长得英俊，他说话柔柔的，有———点女人气，我不喜欢。另外，很奇怪的是，我总觉得他让我想起一个我最近见过的人——可无论如何我一时还想不起来是谁。
我们说要见埃奇韦尔男爵。
“先生，这边请。”
他领着我们顺着前厅走过去，过了楼梯，来到厅后的一个屋门前。
他打开门，以那种同样柔柔的，我很不信任的音调通报了我们的姓名。
我们被领人的房间像是书房。四周陈列着书籍，室内摆设色调阴沉，但很考究，椅子样式古板，坐着不是很舒服。
埃奇韦尔男爵起身迎接我们。他个头很高，有五十岁左右，黑发里夹杂着灰发，瘦瘦的面孔，嘴角带着冷笑。他看起来是个脾气暴躁、很厉害的人。他眼里有一种奇怪的、诡秘的东西。
他的态度很僵硬、古板。
“是赫尔克里•波洛先生和黑斯廷斯上尉吗？请坐。”
我们坐了下来。房子里面冷飓飓的。一扇窗子漏出一丝光线，阴暗的光线加重了冷冷的气氛。
埃奇韦尔拿着一封信，我一看就知道是我朋友的笔迹。
“波洛先生，当然，我久仰您的大名。谁不知道您呢。”波洛听了他的恭维，赶紧起身鞠躬致谢。“但是我不明白您在这件事情中的立场。您说，您要和我见面，是代表——”他顿了顿，“——代表我的太太？”
最后的几个词，他说得很奇怪——好像很勉强才说出来。
“是这样的。”我的朋友说道。
“就我所知，您是调查犯罪的。是吗，波洛先生？”
“我是调查问题的，埃奇韦尔男爵。当然有犯罪问题，也有别的问题。”
“不错。那么这次是什么问题呢？”
这时，他话语里的讥讽口气已经很明显了。波洛没去理会它。
“我很荣幸地代表埃奇韦尔夫人来您这里”，波洛说道，“您知道埃奇韦尔夫人想离婚。”
“我当然知道。”埃奇韦尔男爵冷冷地说。
“她建议我和您谈谈。”
“没有什么好谈的。”
“那么，您是不同意了。”
“不同意？当然不是。”
我不知道波洛期待他回答什么，但我肯定他没想到他会这样说。我很少看到我的朋友大吃一惊的样子，而这次我看到了。他的表情很滑稽。嘴张得大大的，手仲着，两道眉毛挑着。他看起来活像连环画上的漫画人物。
“怎么？”他大声说道，“这是什么意思？您是不是同意？”
“波洛先生，我不明白您为什么这样惊奇。”
“请听我说，您愿意同尊夫人离婚吗？”
“我当然愿意。她很清楚的。我已经写信给她，告诉她了。”
“您己经写信给她。告诉她了？”
“是的，六个月前。”
“可我不明白。我一点也不明白。”
埃奇韦尔男爵一言不发。
“我知道您原则上是反对离婚的。”
“我不明白我的原则跟您有什么关系，波洛先生。是的，我没和我的前妻离婚，因为我的良心不允许我这样做。现在，我可以坦白地承认，我的第二次婚姻是个失败。我太太建议离婚的时候，我一口拒绝了。六个月以前，她又写信逼我同意。我想到她可能要再嫁什么电影演员或那类人吧。那个时候，我的观点也已经变了。我写信到好莱坞给她，告诉她我同意了。我不明白她为什么又请您来。我猜一定是为了钱吧。”
说最后那句话时。他的嘴角又浮起冷笑。
“太奇怪了，”我的朋友低声说，“真是太奇怪了。这儿有些事情我一点也不明白。”
“至于钱，”埃奇韦尔男爵接着说，“我太太自愿离开我的，如果她想和其他人结婚，我可以给她自由，但她没有理由从我这得到一分钱。她不能这样做。”
“我要和您商量的不是金钱上的事。”
埃奇韦尔男爵扬起眉毛。
“简肯定是要嫁一个富有的人了。”他低声冷笑地说。
“这儿有些事情我一点也不明白。”波洛又一次说道。他满脸困惑。眉头紧皱地思索着。“埃奇韦尔夫人说，她请律师与您交涉过。”
“她是请过律师，”埃奇韦尔男爵冷冷地说，“英国律师，美国律师，各种各样的律师都请过，甚至包括那些草包饭桶。最后。像我说的，她自己亲自写信来了。”
“您过去是不同意的？”
“是这样的。”
“但接到她的信。您就改变了主意。埃奇韦尔男爵，您为什么改变主意呢？”
“不是因为那封信上的什么话。”他机警地说道，“我突然改变了主意，就是这样。”
“这改变是很突然的。”
埃奇韦尔男爵没说话。
“埃奇韦尔男爵，您是在什么特殊的情况下改变自己的主意的呢？”
“那是我自己的事，波洛先生。这一点，我不能再说什么了。我们不妨这样说吧，我逐渐发现——请恕我坦率地讲——结束这种关系是有好处的。我的第二次婚姻是个失败。”
“您太太也这样说。”波洛轻柔地说道。
“是吗？”
他的眼里闪动着奇怪的光，但只是一闪。
他以一种结束式的态度站了起来。道别的时候，态度不怎么僵硬了。
“请原谅我临时改变了这次会面，因为我明天要去巴黎一趟。”
“当然，当然。”
“事实上是为一件艺术品的事。我对小小的艺术品感兴趣。它本身是完美的——可怕的完美。而我喜欢这种可怕。我总是这样的。我的品性很特殊的。”
他又那样奇怪地笑了。我一直在看旁边书架上的书。里面有卡萨诺瓦的回忆录，沙德伯爵的一卷书，还有一本是关于中世纪迫害的。
我想起简在谈起她丈夫时直发抖的样子。那不是装的。那是真的。我在想这个人——乔治。艾尔弗雷德。圣文森特。马什。埃奇韦尔男爵四世。到底是什么人。
他很和蔼地和我们告别，并按铃叫仆人。我们走出了屋子。那个长得有如希腊神抵一样的管家正在厅里等着送客。我随手关上书房的门，在关门的一刹那，我回首一望。这一望，让我差一点惊叫起来。
那副和善的面孔变形了。龇牙咧嘴的，面目狰狞，眼里闪着怒火，带着一种几乎疯狂的怒意。
我这才明白为什么他的两任太太都离开了他。我惊讶的是这个人钢铁般坚韧的自制力。这次会面，他从始至终都保持着那种僵硬的自制力，彬彬有礼又拒人干里之外。
我们刚走到大门的时候，右边的房门开了。一个女子站在房门口。看到我们，往后退了退。
她身材细高，头发深褐色，面色苍白。她的眼睛盯着我，深幽幽的，一副受惊吓的样子。然后又像影子一样缩回了房间。关上了门。
过了一会，我们走到街上，波洛叫了一辆出租车。我们坐了进去，他让司机开到萨伏依饭店。
“啊，黑斯廷斯”，他眨着眼睛说，“这次会面出乎我的意料。”
“是的，确实如此。”
我将先前关门时看到的情景讲给他听。他若有所思地点点头。
“我猜他已经到了疯狂的边缘了。黑斯廷斯，我觉得他一定做过很多坏事，在他的呆板的表面后面隐藏着一种根深蒂固的残酷本性。”
“难怪他两个太太都离开了他。”
“你说对了。”
“波洛，我们出来的时候，你注意到那个棕色头发、面色苍白的女子吗？”
“是的，我注意到她了，我的朋友。一位受惊吓、不开心的女子。”
他的声音很低沉。
“你觉得她是淮？”
“很可能是他女儿。他有一个女儿的。”
“她看起来是受惊吓的样子。”我慢慢地说道。“那座房子太死气沉沉”适合年轻的女孩子住。”
“是的。啊！我们到了，我的朋友。我们把这个好消息告诉埃奇韦尔夫人吧。”
简在饭店里，侍者打过电话后告诉我们上去。一个侍者带我们到了她的房门口。
开门的是一位整洁的中年妇女。她戴着眼镜，灰白的头发梳理得整整齐齐。卧室传来了简沙哑的声音。吩咐她：
“是波洛先生吗？埃利斯？请他坐下。我找件衣服披上，立刻就出来。”
简所说的衣服是一件薄如蝉翼的睡袍，与其说是遮体，倒不如说是展示身体的曲线。她急急地走进来，说道：“行了？”
波洛站起来，鞠躬吻手致意。
“是的，夫人，正如您说的，行了。”
“怎么？您的意思是——”
“埃奇韦尔男爵完全同意离婚。”
“什么？”
她脸上所表现出的茫然的样子若不是真的，就是她的演技实在太高。
“波洛先生！您办到了！就那样，一做就成。哇！您真是天才。您是怎样做的？”
“夫人，我无功不受禄。您丈夫在六个月以前已给您写信，撤回了他对离婚的反对。”
“您说什么？写信给我？寄到哪了？”
“我想。是当您在好莱坞的时候。”
“我从未收到过。我猜一定是寄丢了。想想。这几个月。我竟然一直为这事发愁，烦心，几乎要发疯了。”
“埃奇韦尔爵士好像觉得您要和一位演员结婚。”
“自然了。我对他说的。”她一脸稚气地笑着。突然，她换了一副惊慌的面孔，“波洛先生，您没和他说我与公爵的事吧？”
“没有。绝对没有。您放心。我是很谨慎的。可不能告诉他，是吧？”
“晤。您知道他是一个很怪的人。他若知道我要嫁给墨顿公爵，他会觉得我可以借此往上爬——很自然的，他就会暗中破坏。而嫁给一个演员就不同了。不管怎么说我还是很奇怪。埃利斯，你觉得奇怪吗？”
我注意到那个女仆一直在房里走来走去，整理挂在椅子背上的各种外衣。我本来以为她是在听我们讲话。现在看来她反倒像简的心腹。
“是啊，真够奇怪的，我的夫人。自从我们认清他以来，他一定是变化很大啊。”她满怀怨恨地说。
“是的，一定是。”
“您不是了解他的态度吗？这很令您莫名其妙吗？”波洛问道。
“啊！是啊。但是，不管怎样，我们不用操心这个。只要他已改变主意，为什么改变的又有什么关系呢？”
“您可能不感兴趣，夫人，可我倒感兴趣。”
简并未理会他。
“主要的是我终于自由了。”
“还没有。夫人。”
她不耐烦地望着他。
“哦，将要自由了。还不是一样的。”
波洛不以为然地看着她。
“公爵在巴黎。”筒说道，“我得马上打电报给他。啊！他妈妈知道了不气疯了才怪呢。”
波洛站起身。
“我很高兴一切如您意，夫人。”
“再见，波洛先生。非常感谢。”
“我什么也没做。”
“不管怎么说，您给我带来了好消息、，波洛先生。我将永远感激您。真的！”
“就是这样。”我们离开那间套房的时候，波洛对我说，“她脑子里所想的，只有一件事——就是她自己！她根本不去想想，没有一点好奇心。根本不想那封信她为什么没收到。你看。黑斯廷斯，在办事这方面，她是精明的，但是，她这个人绝对不聪明。当然。当然，仁慈的上帝不能把一切都给她。”
“但是对波洛则例外。”我不动声色地说。
“我的朋友，你又开我玩笑了。”他冷静地回答道，“来吧。我们沿着堤岸走走。我要把脑子里的思绪好好理理。”
我谨慎地保持缄默。等这个料事如神的家伙说话我再开口。
“那封信，”我们在河边散步的时候，他又接起了那个话题。“令我很感兴趣。我的朋友，对于这个问题，我有四个答案。”
“四个？”
“是的。第一，在邮寄中丢失了。你知道，这是有可能发生的，但不是经常发生的。如果邮寄地址不对，它早就被退回到埃奇韦尔男爵那去了。不可能，我不太相信这种可能——当然，尽管这是有可能的。
“第二个答案。我们这位漂亮的女士说她未收到信，是在撒谎。这也是有可能的。这位迷人的女士为了自己的利益，什么谎都可能撒，而且表面上装得像孩子似的坦白。但黑斯廷斯，我不明白这对她有何益处。如果她知道他已答应离婚，为什么还让我去与他丈夫谈判呢？这不合情理。
“第三个答莱。埃奇韦尔男爵在撒谎。如果说有人撒谎，似乎他撒谎的可能性比他太太大。但是我看不出他撒谎的目的。他为什么要编造说六个月前发过的一封假信呢？为什么不是简单地同意我们的建议呢？不是的，我还是觉得他确实寄了信，尽管我猜不出他为什么突然改变主意。
“所以我们又可以推断出第四个答案——就是有人把信扣留了。那么，黑斯廷斯，我们的猜测可就更有趣了，因为在两方面都可能被扣留——或是英国，或是美国。
“不论谁把信扣留了，他都是一个不愿这个婚姻解体的人。黑斯廷斯，我要努力知道这件事的幕后原因。肯定有原因的——我发誓一定有原因。”
他顿了一下，又慢慢地加上一句：“而这原因，现在我还是只能模糊地瞥见一点点。”
Chapter 5 Murder谋杀
Chapter 5 Murder
The following day was the 30th June.
It was just half-past nine when we were told that Inspector Japp was below and anxious to see us.
It was some years since we had seen anything of the Scotland Yard inspector.
‘Ah! ce bon Japp,’ said Poirot. ‘What does he want, I wonder?’
‘Help,’ I snapped. ‘He’s out of his depth over some case and he’s come to you.’
I had not the indulgence for Japp that Poirot had. It was not so much that I minded his picking Poirot’s brains - after all, Poirot enjoyed the process, it was a delicate flattery. What did annoy me was Japp’s hypocritical pretence that he was doing nothing of the kind. I liked people to be straightforward. I said so, and Poirot laughed.
‘You are the dog of the bulldog breed, eh, Hastings? But you must remember that the poor Japp he has to save his face. So he makes his little pretence. It is very natural.’
I thought it merely foolish and said so. Poirot did not agree.
‘The outward form - it is a bagatelle - but it matters to people. It enables them to keep the amour propre.’
Personally I thought a dash of inferiority complex would do Japp no harm, but there was no point in arguing the matter. Besides, I was anxious to learn what Japp had come about.
He greeted us both heartily.
‘Just going to have breakfast, I see. Not got the hens to lay square eggs for you yet, M. Poirot?’
This was an allusion to a complaint from Poirot as to the varying sizes of eggs which had offended his sense of symmetry.
‘As yet, no,’ said Poirot smiling. ‘And what brings you to see us so early, my good Japp?’
‘It’s not early - not for me. I’ve been up and at work for a good two hours. As to what brings me to see you - well, it’s murder.’
‘Murder?’
Japp nodded.
‘Lord Edgware was killed at his house in Regent Gate last night. Stabbed in the neck by his wife.’
‘By his wife?’ I cried.
In a flash I remembered Bryan Martin’s words on the previous morning. Had he had a prophetic knowledge of what was going to happen? I remembered, too, Jane’s easy reference to ‘bumping him off ’. Amoral, Bryan Martin had called her. She was the type, yes. Callous, egotistical and stupid. How right he had been in his judgment.
All this passed through my mind while Japp went on:
‘Yes. Actress, you know. Well known. Jane Wilkinson. Married him three years ago. They didn’t get on. She left him.’
Poirot was looking puzzled and serious.
‘What makes you believe that it was she who killed him?’
‘No belief about it. She was recognized. Not much concealment about it, either. She drove up in a taxi -’
‘A taxi -’ I echoed involuntarily, her words at the Savoy that night coming back to me.
‘- rang the bell, asked for Lord Edgware. It was ten o’clock. Butler said he’d see. “Oh!” she says cool as a cucumber. “You needn’t. I am Lady Edgware. I suppose he’s in the library.” And with that she walks along and opens the door and goes in and shuts it behind her.
‘Well the butler thought it was queer, but all right. He went downstairs again. About ten minutes later he heard the front door shut. So, anyway, she hadn’t stayed long. He locked up for the night about eleven. He opened the library door, but it was dark, so he thought his master had gone to bed. This morning the body was discovered by a housemaid. Stabbed in the back of the neck just at the roots of the hair.’
‘Was there no cry? Nothing heard?’ ‘They say not. That library’s got pretty well soundproof doors, you know. And there’s traffic passing, too. Stabbed in that way, death results amazing quick. Straight through the cistern into the medulla, that’s what the doctor said - or something very like it. If you hit on exactly the right spot it kills a man instantaneously.’
‘That implies a knowledge of exactly where to strike. It almost implies medical knowledge.’
‘Yes - that’s true. A point in her favour as far as it goes. But ten to one it was a chance. She just struck lucky. Some people do have amazing luck, you know.’
‘Not so lucky if it results in her being hanged, mon ami,’ observed Poirot.
‘No. Of course she was a fool - sailing in like that and giving her name and all.’
‘Indeed, very curious.’
‘Possibly she didn’t intend mischief. They quarrelled and she whipped out a penknife and jabbed him one.’
‘Was it a penknife?’
‘Something of that kind, the doctor says. Whatever it was, she took it away with her. It wasn’t left in the wound.’
Poirot shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
‘No, no, my friend, it was not like that. I know the lady. She would be quite incapable of such a hot-blooded impulsive action. Besides, she would be most unlikely to have a penknife with her. Few women have - and assuredly not Jane Wilkinson.’
‘You know her, you say, M. Poirot?’
‘Yes. I know her.’
He said no more for the moment. Japp was looking at him inquisitively.
‘Got something up your sleeve, M. Poirot?’ he ventured at last.
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘That reminds me. What has brought you to me? Eh? It is not merely to pass the time of day with an old comrade? Assuredly not. You have here a nice straightforward murder. You have the criminal. You have the motive - what exactly is the motive, by the way?’
‘Wanted to marry another man. She was heard to say so not a week ago. Also heard to make threats. Said she meant to call round in a taxi and bump him off.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘You are very well informed - very well informed. Someone has been very obliging.’
I thought his eyes looked a question, but if so, Japp did not respond.
‘We get to hear things, M. Poirot,’ he said stolidly.
Poirot nodded. He had reached out for the daily paper. It had been opened by Japp, doubtless while he was waiting, and had been cast impatiently aside on our entry. In a mechanical manner, Poirot folded it back at the middle page, smoothed and arranged it. Though his eyes were on the paper, his mind was deep in some kind of puzzle.
‘You have not answered,’ he said presently. ‘Since all goes in the swimming fashion, why come to me?’
‘Because I heard you were at Regent Gate yesterday morning.’
‘I see.’
‘Now, as soon as I heard that, I said to myself, “Something here.” His lordship sent for M. Poirot. Why? What did he suspect? What did he fear? Before doing anything definite, I’d better go round and have a word with him.’
‘What do you mean by “anything definite”? Arresting the lady, I suppose?’
‘Exactly.’
‘You have not seen her yet?’
‘Oh! yes, I have. Went round to the Savoy first thing. Wasn’t going to risk her giving us the slip.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘So you -’
He stopped. His eyes, which had been fixed thoughtfully and up to now unseeingly on the paper in front of him, now took on a different expression. He lifted his head and spoke in a changed tone of voice.
‘And what did she say? Eh! my friend. What did she say?’
‘I gave her the usual stuff, of course, about wanting a statement and cautioning her - you can’t say the English police aren’t fair.’
‘In my opinion foolishly so. But proceed. What did milady say?’
‘Took hysterics - that’s what she did. Rolled herself about, threw up her arms and finally flopped down on the ground. Oh! she did it well - I’ll say that for her. A pretty bit of acting.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot blandly. ‘You formed, then, the impression that the hysterics were not genuine?’
Japp winked vulgarly.
‘What do you think? I’m not to be taken in with those tricks. She hadn’t fainted - not she! Just trying it on, she was. I’ll swear she was enjoying it.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘I should say that was perfectly possible. What next?’
‘Oh! well, she came to - pretended to, I mean. And moaned - and groaned and carried on and that sour-faced maid of hers doped her with smelling salts and at last she recovered enough to ask for her solicitor. Wasn’t going to say anything without her solicitor. Hysterics one moment, solicitors the next, now I ask you, is that natural behaviour, sir?’
‘In this case quite natural, I should say,’ said Poirot calmly.
‘You mean because she’s guilty and knows it.’
‘Not at all, I mean because of her temperament. First she gives you her conception of how the part of a wife suddenly learning of her husband’s death should be played. Then, having satisfied her histrionic instinct, her native shrewdness makes her send for a solicitor. That she creates an artificial scene and enjoys it is no proof of her guilt. It merely indicates that she is a born actress.’
‘Well, she can’t be innocent. That’s sure.’
‘You are very positive,’ said Poirot. ‘I suppose that it must be so. She made no statement, you say? No statement at all?’
Japp grinned.
‘Wouldn’t say a word without her solicitor. The maid telephoned for him. I left two of my men there and came along to you. I thought it just as well to get put wise to whatever there was going on before I went on with things.’
‘And yet you are sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. But I like as many facts as possible. You see, there’s going to be a big splash made about this. No hole and corner business. All the papers will be full of it. And you know what papers are.’
‘Talking of papers,’ said Poirot. ‘How do you account for this, my dear friend. You have not read your morning paper very carefully.’
He leant across the table, his finger on a paragraph in the society news. Japp read the item aloud.
Sir Montagu Corner gave a very successful dinner-party last night at his house on the river at Chiswick. Among those present were Sir George and Lady du Fisse, Mr James Blunt, the well-known dramatic critic, Sir Oscar Hammerfeldt of the Overton Film Studios, Miss Jane Wilkinson (Lady Edgware) and others.
For a moment Japp looked taken aback. Then he rallied.
‘What’s that got to do with it? This thing was sent to the Press beforehand. You’ll see. You’ll find that our lady wasn’t there, or that she came in late - eleven o’clock or so. Bless you sir, you mustn’t believe everything you see in the Press to be gospel. You of all people ought to know better than that.’
‘Oh! I do, I do. It only struck me as curious, that was all.’
‘These coincidences do happen. Now, M. Poirot, close as an oyster I know you to be by bitter experience. But you’ll come across with things, won’t you? You’ll tell me why Lord Edgware sent for you?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘Lord Edgware did not send for me. It was I who requested him to give me an appointment.’
‘Really? And for what reason?’
Poirot hesitated a minute.
‘I will answer your question,’ he said slowly. ‘But I should like to answer it in my own way.’
Japp groaned. I felt a sneaking sympathy with him. Poirot can be intensely irritating at times.
‘I will request,’ went on Poirot, ‘that you permit me to ring up a certain person and ask him to come here.’
‘What person?’
‘Mr Bryan Martin.’
‘The film star? What’s he got to do with it?’
‘I think,’ said Poirot, ‘that you may find what he has got to say interesting - and possibly helpful. Hastings, will you be so good?’
I took up the telephone-book. The actor had a flat in a big block of buildings near St James’ Park.
‘Victoria 49499.’
The somewhat sleepy voice of Bryan Martin spoke after a few minutes.
‘Hello - who’s speaking?’
‘What am I to say?’ I whispered, covering the mouthpiece with my hand.
‘Tell him,’ said Poirot, ‘that Lord Edgware has been murdered, and that I should esteem it a favour if he would come round here and see me immediately.’
I repeated this meticulously. There was a startled exclamation at the other end.
‘My God,’ said Martin. ‘So she’s done it then! I’ll come at once.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Poirot. I told him.
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. He seemed pleased. ‘So she’s done it then. That was what he said? Then it is as I thought, it is as I thought.’
Japp looked at him curiously.
‘I can’t make you out, M. Poirot. First you sound as though you thought the woman might not have done it after all. And now you make out that you knew it all along.’
Poirot only smiled.

第五章 谋杀
第二天是六月三十号。
九点半的时候仆人禀报说贾普警督在楼下焦急地想见我们。
已经有好几年我们没和伦敦警察厅警督打交道了。
“啊！这个可爱的贾普。”波洛说，“不知道他想做什么。”
“寻求帮助的。”我直截了当地说，“他一定遇到了什么棘手的案子，来找你帮忙的。”
我对贾普可不像波洛那样纵容。他一来，波洛就要费脑筋了。我倒不是在意这个。毕竟波洛自己喜欢动脑筋。那是一件很有荣誉和令人高兴的事。我只是讨厌虚伪地装做什么事都没有的样子，我喜欢直爽的人。我对波洛说了自己的想法，他哈哈大笑。
“黑斯廷斯，你是个直爽、勇往直前的人，是吧？但你知道可怜的贾普要保存自己的面子的。所以他就要装装了，这是很自然的。”
我觉得这样很傻，并和波洛说了，他不赞同。
“一个人的外表的东西——都是无关紧要的”对人关系有时又很大。它能让人保持尊严。”
我个人认为，点自卑感，贾普没什么坏处。但争论下去也没什么用处。何况我急于想知道贾普来干什么。
他很热情地与我们打招呼，
“啊！你们正要吃早饭？怎么，波洛先生，母鸡没下方蛋给你吃吧？”
这是一个典故，原来波洛曾抱怨过不同形状的鸡蛋会影响他的匀称感。
“还没有。”波洛笑着说，“我可爱的贾普，一大早来，有何见教？”
“对我来说不早，我已经工作了两个小时了。至于说我为什么来你这一原因吗，是谋杀。”
“谋杀？”
贾普点了点头。
“昨晚埃奇韦尔男爵在他摄政门的府郧被人谋杀。被他的太太用尖刀刺人脖颈致死。”
“被他的太太？”我惊讶地喊道。
我在那一刻突然回忆起布赖恩•马丁前一天早上说的话。他能预见将要发生的事吗？我还记起简曾说过的“把他干掉”的话。超道德的，这是布赖恩•马丁对她的评价。她是那种类型。是的。无情，自私，愚蠢。他的判断是多么正确！
我脑子里面思绪万干。这时。贾普说话了：“是的，那个女演员。你认识的。她很出名的。简•威尔金森。她三年前与他结婚。他们的关系并不好。她离开了他。”
波洛一脸困惑而严肃的样子。
“你为什么认为是她杀的呢？”
“并不是认为。她被认出来了。根本没有任何隐瞒，她是坐一辆出租车去的——”
“一辆出租车？”我不由自主地重复了一下，那晚她在萨伏依饭店的话又在我耳边响起。
“——按门铃，说要见埃奇韦尔男爵。那是在十点的时候。管家说他去看看，她冷静地说，。唤，你不用去了。我是埃奇韦尔夫人。我想他在书房里。，她说着那话就径直走了进去，打开了门，进去后又把门关上了。
“本来管家觉得奇怪，但也没觉得有什么大不了的。他又下了楼。大约十分钟以后，他听见了前门关上的声音。不管怎么说，她是没呆多久。大约夜里十一点的时候他锁上了门。他打开了书房的门，里面黑黑的，他以为主人已经上床睡觉了。今天早上，女仆发现了他的尸体。后颈发根处被刀刺了进去。”
“没有叫喊声吗？什么声音都没听见？”
“他们说没听见。要知道，那间书房的门隔音效果很好。同时外面还有车辆驶过的声音。另外那种刺法，人会很快死去。医生说，是由小脑底部一直到延髓——或类似之处。要是刺准这个部位，人就会立刻死去。”
“这就是说要知道确切的刺入位置，恐怕得懂一些医学知识。”
“是的——是要这样。就这一点而论，她是很得利的。但十有八九是她的运气。她只是偶然地刺中了。要知道，有的人就是很有运气的。”
“我的朋友，要是因此而要被绞死，她可就不运气了。”波洛说道。
“是这样的。她可真是一个傻子——就那么明目张胆地走进去，还自报姓名。”
“这就奇怪了。”
“很可能她不打算杀他的。但他们吵了起来，她就猛然拿出刀子杀了他。”
“是小刀吗？”
“医生说是那类的东西。不管是什么，她是把它拿走了，没有留下任何凶器。”
波洛很不满意地摇了摇头。
“不可能的，不可能的，我的朋友，不会是那样的。我认识那位女士，她不可能做这种一时冲动的事。另外她不可能随身带把刀子。很少有女人带刀子的——简•威尔金森更不会。”
“你说你认识她，波洛先生？”
“是的。我认识她。”
他不再说话了。贾普好奇地望着他。
最后他说：“透漏点消息，如何？”
“啊，”波洛说，“我想起来了。你来此有何贯干？呢？不是来和老朋友叙旧的吧？肯定不是。你是为这件谋杀棠来的。你有罪犯，有犯罪动机。说起犯罪动机，顺便问一下。你认为犯罪动机是什么？”
“想和另一个人结婚。不到一个星期前，有人还听她说过这个。她还威胁说要雇一辆车，去把他干掉。”
“啊1”波洛说道，“你的消息还很灵通嘛——真是消息灵通！一定有人帮忙了。”
我想他眼神里是询问的目光，但尽管如此，贾普没反应。
“我们听说的。波洛先生。”他不动声色地回答道。
波洛点点头。他仲手去拿报纸。毫无疑问那张报纸是贾普在等我们的时候翻开的，我们进来的时候被匆匆地放在了一边。波洛很熟练地将它由中间折回原样，并用手把它抚平。尽管他的眼睛在报纸上，他的思绪却在一个疑问里。
“你还没回答我”，他说道，“既然一切都进展顺利，你为什么还来我这里？”
“因为我听说你昨天去摄政门找过埃奇韦尔男爵。”
“我明白了。”
“我一听说这个，我就对自己说，。这里面有戏。，男爵为什么找波洛先生？他怀疑什么？他恐惧什么？在采取措施之前。我还是和你谈谈。”
“你说。采取措施，是什么意思？是逮捕那位女士？”
“是的。”
“你还没见她吧？”
“啊！己经见过了。离开现场第一件事就是去萨伏依饭店。可不能让她溜了。”
“啊！”波洛说，“那么，你——”
他突然停了下来。他的眼睛一直暗暗地盯着眼前的报纸”在，改变了表情，起头来，一种新的腔调说
“啊！我的朋友，说了些什么？呢！她说了些什么？”
“当然。我像往常一样叫她交代事实，警告她说话要注意。不能让人说伦敦警方做事不公平啊。”
“我觉得这样够傻的。不过继续，位夫人怎么样了？”
“一阵歇斯底里发作——她就是这样的。滚来滚去，开手臂，来索性扑通倒在了地上。唤！她表演得真不错。我得为她说话，场很生动的表演。”
“啊，波洛温和地说，那么，当时的印象是她歇斯底里发作不是真的吗？”
贾普粗俗地眨眨眼。
“你又怎么想呢？我可不会被这种小把戏骗住。她根本没昏倒——根本不会。只是装模作样而已。我敢发誓她还觉得不错呢。”
“是的，波洛若有所思地说道，我以为那是有可能的。后来呢？”
“啊！后来她醒了——假装醒了。然后不住地哼哼，继续演戏。那个面孔呆板的女仆给她闻嗅盐。最后，她清醒过来可以说话了，她叫人去请她的律师。她说没有律师在场，她什么也不会说。先是歇斯底里，然后又是律师。先生，我要问你了。这是自然的吗？”
“就这件事而论，是很自然的。”波洛镇定地说。
“你的意思是因为她是有罪的，并且也知道自己是有罪的。才这样吗？”
“不是的。我认为这是因为她的脾气的缘故。首先她要让你看看一个女人突然听到丈夫死去时该是什么样。表演的本能得到满足后，以她天生精明的头脑。她立刻想到要请一个律师。至于故意造出那个假象，并且自己以为很像，并不足以证明她是有罪的。这只能表明她天生是做演员的料。”
“不过，她绝对不会是无辜的。这一点我敢肯定。”
“你很肯定。”波洛说，“也许是这样吧。你说她什么都不况。一点话也不说吗？”
贾普喇嘴笑了笑。
“律师不在，她拒绝说话。她的仆人给她的律师打了电话。我留了两个手下在那，就到你这来了。载想在继续调查之前还是来和你谈谈，看看还有什么。”
“你很肯定了？”
“当然我很肯定。但我想要尽可能多地知道些事实。你知道。这件案子一定会被大肆宣扬。这不可能是什么秘密的事。所有的报纸都会登满的。你也知道报纸的特点。”
“说到报纸，”波洛说道，“我的朋友，你对这如何解释？你还没仔细看过你的早报吧？”
他俯下身子看桌上的报纸。他的手指指着社会版上的一则消息，贾普大声地读了出来。
“蒙塔古爵士昨晚在齐西克河畔的府邸举办了一场很成功的晚会。出席人士有，乔治爵士、菲斯夫人、著名戏剧评论家詹姆斯•布伦特先生、奥弗赖电影公司的奥斯卡•哈默费尔特先生、简•威尔金森女士（埃奇韦尔夫人）等人。”
贾普惊讶地看了一会，才恢复正常。
“那与案件又有什么关系呢？这种消息是事先送到报馆的。你就会明白的。你会发现她并没在那里，或者她是晚去了——十一点左右。老伙计，你不要以为报纸里登的都是金科玉律。特别是你，应该比谁都明白这一点。”
“啊！我知道，我当然知道，我只是觉得很巧而已。”
“世上巧合的事是不少。波洛先生，我知道你是守口如瓶的，这一点，我早就领教过了。但这件事你会说出来的吧。你会告诉我为什么埃奇韦尔男爵请你去的。”
波洛摇摇头。
“不是埃奇韦尔男爵请我去的。是我要求他见我的。”
“真的吗？那为什么呢？”
波洛犹豫了一下。
“我会回答你这个问题的。”他慢慢地说道，“但是我得按我自己的方式回答你的问题。”
贾普气哼哼地。我暗暗地觉得同情他。波洛有的时候的确会让人想发火。
“我要请求你”，波洛继续说，“让我打电话给一个人叫他来这里。”
“什么人？”
“布赖恩•马丁先生。”
“那个电影明星？他和这有什么关系呢？”
“我想，”波洛说道，“你会发现他说的话很有趣的。很可能。也很有用的。黑斯廷斯，能劳您大驾吗？”
我拿起电话簿。这个明星在圣詹姆斯公园的一大栋高楼里有一套公寓。
“维多利亚49449……”
几分钟以后，布赖恩•马丁略带困意地接了电话。
“喂——哪一位？”
“我说什么？”我捂住话筒，低声问波洛。
“告诉他，”波洛说道，“就说埃奇韦尔男爵昨晚被杀了。如果他能立即来我们这见面，我们将不胜感激。”
我把他的话一字不落地重复了一遍。电话的另一端传来惊讶的叫减。
“我的天！”马丁说道，“她真的那么做了！我立刻来。”
“他说什么？”波洛问我。我告诉了他。
“啊！”波洛看起来很得意地说道，“。她真的那么做了！，他是那么说的？我就是这样想的。正如我所料。”
贾普好奇地望着他。
“我真弄不懂你，波洛先生。你先前说话的口气好像那位女士根本不会杀人的。现在你又说你对这一切都了如指掌。”
波洛只是笑而不答。
Chapter 5 Murder谋杀
Chapter 5 Murder
The following day was the 30th June.
It was just half-past nine when we were told that Inspector Japp was below and anxious to see us.
It was some years since we had seen anything of the Scotland Yard inspector.
‘Ah! ce bon Japp,’ said Poirot. ‘What does he want, I wonder?’
‘Help,’ I snapped. ‘He’s out of his depth over some case and he’s come to you.’
I had not the indulgence for Japp that Poirot had. It was not so much that I minded his picking Poirot’s brains - after all, Poirot enjoyed the process, it was a delicate flattery. What did annoy me was Japp’s hypocritical pretence that he was doing nothing of the kind. I liked people to be straightforward. I said so, and Poirot laughed.
‘You are the dog of the bulldog breed, eh, Hastings? But you must remember that the poor Japp he has to save his face. So he makes his little pretence. It is very natural.’
I thought it merely foolish and said so. Poirot did not agree.
‘The outward form - it is a bagatelle - but it matters to people. It enables them to keep the amour propre.’
Personally I thought a dash of inferiority complex would do Japp no harm, but there was no point in arguing the matter. Besides, I was anxious to learn what Japp had come about.
He greeted us both heartily.
‘Just going to have breakfast, I see. Not got the hens to lay square eggs for you yet, M. Poirot?’
This was an allusion to a complaint from Poirot as to the varying sizes of eggs which had offended his sense of symmetry.
‘As yet, no,’ said Poirot smiling. ‘And what brings you to see us so early, my good Japp?’
‘It’s not early - not for me. I’ve been up and at work for a good two hours. As to what brings me to see you - well, it’s murder.’
‘Murder?’
Japp nodded.
‘Lord Edgware was killed at his house in Regent Gate last night. Stabbed in the neck by his wife.’
‘By his wife?’ I cried.
In a flash I remembered Bryan Martin’s words on the previous morning. Had he had a prophetic knowledge of what was going to happen? I remembered, too, Jane’s easy reference to ‘bumping him off ’. Amoral, Bryan Martin had called her. She was the type, yes. Callous, egotistical and stupid. How right he had been in his judgment.
All this passed through my mind while Japp went on:
‘Yes. Actress, you know. Well known. Jane Wilkinson. Married him three years ago. They didn’t get on. She left him.’
Poirot was looking puzzled and serious.
‘What makes you believe that it was she who killed him?’
‘No belief about it. She was recognized. Not much concealment about it, either. She drove up in a taxi -’
‘A taxi -’ I echoed involuntarily, her words at the Savoy that night coming back to me.
‘- rang the bell, asked for Lord Edgware. It was ten o’clock. Butler said he’d see. “Oh!” she says cool as a cucumber. “You needn’t. I am Lady Edgware. I suppose he’s in the library.” And with that she walks along and opens the door and goes in and shuts it behind her.
‘Well the butler thought it was queer, but all right. He went downstairs again. About ten minutes later he heard the front door shut. So, anyway, she hadn’t stayed long. He locked up for the night about eleven. He opened the library door, but it was dark, so he thought his master had gone to bed. This morning the body was discovered by a housemaid. Stabbed in the back of the neck just at the roots of the hair.’
‘Was there no cry? Nothing heard?’ ‘They say not. That library’s got pretty well soundproof doors, you know. And there’s traffic passing, too. Stabbed in that way, death results amazing quick. Straight through the cistern into the medulla, that’s what the doctor said - or something very like it. If you hit on exactly the right spot it kills a man instantaneously.’
‘That implies a knowledge of exactly where to strike. It almost implies medical knowledge.’
‘Yes - that’s true. A point in her favour as far as it goes. But ten to one it was a chance. She just struck lucky. Some people do have amazing luck, you know.’
‘Not so lucky if it results in her being hanged, mon ami,’ observed Poirot.
‘No. Of course she was a fool - sailing in like that and giving her name and all.’
‘Indeed, very curious.’
‘Possibly she didn’t intend mischief. They quarrelled and she whipped out a penknife and jabbed him one.’
‘Was it a penknife?’
‘Something of that kind, the doctor says. Whatever it was, she took it away with her. It wasn’t left in the wound.’
Poirot shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
‘No, no, my friend, it was not like that. I know the lady. She would be quite incapable of such a hot-blooded impulsive action. Besides, she would be most unlikely to have a penknife with her. Few women have - and assuredly not Jane Wilkinson.’
‘You know her, you say, M. Poirot?’
‘Yes. I know her.’
He said no more for the moment. Japp was looking at him inquisitively.
‘Got something up your sleeve, M. Poirot?’ he ventured at last.
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘That reminds me. What has brought you to me? Eh? It is not merely to pass the time of day with an old comrade? Assuredly not. You have here a nice straightforward murder. You have the criminal. You have the motive - what exactly is the motive, by the way?’
‘Wanted to marry another man. She was heard to say so not a week ago. Also heard to make threats. Said she meant to call round in a taxi and bump him off.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘You are very well informed - very well informed. Someone has been very obliging.’
I thought his eyes looked a question, but if so, Japp did not respond.
‘We get to hear things, M. Poirot,’ he said stolidly.
Poirot nodded. He had reached out for the daily paper. It had been opened by Japp, doubtless while he was waiting, and had been cast impatiently aside on our entry. In a mechanical manner, Poirot folded it back at the middle page, smoothed and arranged it. Though his eyes were on the paper, his mind was deep in some kind of puzzle.
‘You have not answered,’ he said presently. ‘Since all goes in the swimming fashion, why come to me?’
‘Because I heard you were at Regent Gate yesterday morning.’
‘I see.’
‘Now, as soon as I heard that, I said to myself, “Something here.” His lordship sent for M. Poirot. Why? What did he suspect? What did he fear? Before doing anything definite, I’d better go round and have a word with him.’
‘What do you mean by “anything definite”? Arresting the lady, I suppose?’
‘Exactly.’
‘You have not seen her yet?’
‘Oh! yes, I have. Went round to the Savoy first thing. Wasn’t going to risk her giving us the slip.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘So you -’
He stopped. His eyes, which had been fixed thoughtfully and up to now unseeingly on the paper in front of him, now took on a different expression. He lifted his head and spoke in a changed tone of voice.
‘And what did she say? Eh! my friend. What did she say?’
‘I gave her the usual stuff, of course, about wanting a statement and cautioning her - you can’t say the English police aren’t fair.’
‘In my opinion foolishly so. But proceed. What did milady say?’
‘Took hysterics - that’s what she did. Rolled herself about, threw up her arms and finally flopped down on the ground. Oh! she did it well - I’ll say that for her. A pretty bit of acting.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot blandly. ‘You formed, then, the impression that the hysterics were not genuine?’
Japp winked vulgarly.
‘What do you think? I’m not to be taken in with those tricks. She hadn’t fainted - not she! Just trying it on, she was. I’ll swear she was enjoying it.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘I should say that was perfectly possible. What next?’
‘Oh! well, she came to - pretended to, I mean. And moaned - and groaned and carried on and that sour-faced maid of hers doped her with smelling salts and at last she recovered enough to ask for her solicitor. Wasn’t going to say anything without her solicitor. Hysterics one moment, solicitors the next, now I ask you, is that natural behaviour, sir?’
‘In this case quite natural, I should say,’ said Poirot calmly.
‘You mean because she’s guilty and knows it.’
‘Not at all, I mean because of her temperament. First she gives you her conception of how the part of a wife suddenly learning of her husband’s death should be played. Then, having satisfied her histrionic instinct, her native shrewdness makes her send for a solicitor. That she creates an artificial scene and enjoys it is no proof of her guilt. It merely indicates that she is a born actress.’
‘Well, she can’t be innocent. That’s sure.’
‘You are very positive,’ said Poirot. ‘I suppose that it must be so. She made no statement, you say? No statement at all?’
Japp grinned.
‘Wouldn’t say a word without her solicitor. The maid telephoned for him. I left two of my men there and came along to you. I thought it just as well to get put wise to whatever there was going on before I went on with things.’
‘And yet you are sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure. But I like as many facts as possible. You see, there’s going to be a big splash made about this. No hole and corner business. All the papers will be full of it. And you know what papers are.’
‘Talking of papers,’ said Poirot. ‘How do you account for this, my dear friend. You have not read your morning paper very carefully.’
He leant across the table, his finger on a paragraph in the society news. Japp read the item aloud.
Sir Montagu Corner gave a very successful dinner-party last night at his house on the river at Chiswick. Among those present were Sir George and Lady du Fisse, Mr James Blunt, the well-known dramatic critic, Sir Oscar Hammerfeldt of the Overton Film Studios, Miss Jane Wilkinson (Lady Edgware) and others.
For a moment Japp looked taken aback. Then he rallied.
‘What’s that got to do with it? This thing was sent to the Press beforehand. You’ll see. You’ll find that our lady wasn’t there, or that she came in late - eleven o’clock or so. Bless you sir, you mustn’t believe everything you see in the Press to be gospel. You of all people ought to know better than that.’
‘Oh! I do, I do. It only struck me as curious, that was all.’
‘These coincidences do happen. Now, M. Poirot, close as an oyster I know you to be by bitter experience. But you’ll come across with things, won’t you? You’ll tell me why Lord Edgware sent for you?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘Lord Edgware did not send for me. It was I who requested him to give me an appointment.’
‘Really? And for what reason?’
Poirot hesitated a minute.
‘I will answer your question,’ he said slowly. ‘But I should like to answer it in my own way.’
Japp groaned. I felt a sneaking sympathy with him. Poirot can be intensely irritating at times.
‘I will request,’ went on Poirot, ‘that you permit me to ring up a certain person and ask him to come here.’
‘What person?’
‘Mr Bryan Martin.’
‘The film star? What’s he got to do with it?’
‘I think,’ said Poirot, ‘that you may find what he has got to say interesting - and possibly helpful. Hastings, will you be so good?’
I took up the telephone-book. The actor had a flat in a big block of buildings near St James’ Park.
‘Victoria 49499.’
The somewhat sleepy voice of Bryan Martin spoke after a few minutes.
‘Hello - who’s speaking?’
‘What am I to say?’ I whispered, covering the mouthpiece with my hand.
‘Tell him,’ said Poirot, ‘that Lord Edgware has been murdered, and that I should esteem it a favour if he would come round here and see me immediately.’
I repeated this meticulously. There was a startled exclamation at the other end.
‘My God,’ said Martin. ‘So she’s done it then! I’ll come at once.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Poirot. I told him.
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. He seemed pleased. ‘So she’s done it then. That was what he said? Then it is as I thought, it is as I thought.’
Japp looked at him curiously.
‘I can’t make you out, M. Poirot. First you sound as though you thought the woman might not have done it after all. And now you make out that you knew it all along.’
Poirot only smiled.

第五章 谋杀
第二天是六月三十号。
九点半的时候仆人禀报说贾普警督在楼下焦急地想见我们。
已经有好几年我们没和伦敦警察厅警督打交道了。
“啊！这个可爱的贾普。”波洛说，“不知道他想做什么。”
“寻求帮助的。”我直截了当地说，“他一定遇到了什么棘手的案子，来找你帮忙的。”
我对贾普可不像波洛那样纵容。他一来，波洛就要费脑筋了。我倒不是在意这个。毕竟波洛自己喜欢动脑筋。那是一件很有荣誉和令人高兴的事。我只是讨厌虚伪地装做什么事都没有的样子，我喜欢直爽的人。我对波洛说了自己的想法，他哈哈大笑。
“黑斯廷斯，你是个直爽、勇往直前的人，是吧？但你知道可怜的贾普要保存自己的面子的。所以他就要装装了，这是很自然的。”
我觉得这样很傻，并和波洛说了，他不赞同。
“一个人的外表的东西——都是无关紧要的”对人关系有时又很大。它能让人保持尊严。”
我个人认为，点自卑感，贾普没什么坏处。但争论下去也没什么用处。何况我急于想知道贾普来干什么。
他很热情地与我们打招呼，
“啊！你们正要吃早饭？怎么，波洛先生，母鸡没下方蛋给你吃吧？”
这是一个典故，原来波洛曾抱怨过不同形状的鸡蛋会影响他的匀称感。
“还没有。”波洛笑着说，“我可爱的贾普，一大早来，有何见教？”
“对我来说不早，我已经工作了两个小时了。至于说我为什么来你这一原因吗，是谋杀。”
“谋杀？”
贾普点了点头。
“昨晚埃奇韦尔男爵在他摄政门的府郧被人谋杀。被他的太太用尖刀刺人脖颈致死。”
“被他的太太？”我惊讶地喊道。
我在那一刻突然回忆起布赖恩•马丁前一天早上说的话。他能预见将要发生的事吗？我还记起简曾说过的“把他干掉”的话。超道德的，这是布赖恩•马丁对她的评价。她是那种类型。是的。无情，自私，愚蠢。他的判断是多么正确！
我脑子里面思绪万干。这时。贾普说话了：“是的，那个女演员。你认识的。她很出名的。简•威尔金森。她三年前与他结婚。他们的关系并不好。她离开了他。”
波洛一脸困惑而严肃的样子。
“你为什么认为是她杀的呢？”
“并不是认为。她被认出来了。根本没有任何隐瞒，她是坐一辆出租车去的——”
“一辆出租车？”我不由自主地重复了一下，那晚她在萨伏依饭店的话又在我耳边响起。
“——按门铃，说要见埃奇韦尔男爵。那是在十点的时候。管家说他去看看，她冷静地说，。唤，你不用去了。我是埃奇韦尔夫人。我想他在书房里。，她说着那话就径直走了进去，打开了门，进去后又把门关上了。
“本来管家觉得奇怪，但也没觉得有什么大不了的。他又下了楼。大约十分钟以后，他听见了前门关上的声音。不管怎么说，她是没呆多久。大约夜里十一点的时候他锁上了门。他打开了书房的门，里面黑黑的，他以为主人已经上床睡觉了。今天早上，女仆发现了他的尸体。后颈发根处被刀刺了进去。”
“没有叫喊声吗？什么声音都没听见？”
“他们说没听见。要知道，那间书房的门隔音效果很好。同时外面还有车辆驶过的声音。另外那种刺法，人会很快死去。医生说，是由小脑底部一直到延髓——或类似之处。要是刺准这个部位，人就会立刻死去。”
“这就是说要知道确切的刺入位置，恐怕得懂一些医学知识。”
“是的——是要这样。就这一点而论，她是很得利的。但十有八九是她的运气。她只是偶然地刺中了。要知道，有的人就是很有运气的。”
“我的朋友，要是因此而要被绞死，她可就不运气了。”波洛说道。
“是这样的。她可真是一个傻子——就那么明目张胆地走进去，还自报姓名。”
“这就奇怪了。”
“很可能她不打算杀他的。但他们吵了起来，她就猛然拿出刀子杀了他。”
“是小刀吗？”
“医生说是那类的东西。不管是什么，她是把它拿走了，没有留下任何凶器。”
波洛很不满意地摇了摇头。
“不可能的，不可能的，我的朋友，不会是那样的。我认识那位女士，她不可能做这种一时冲动的事。另外她不可能随身带把刀子。很少有女人带刀子的——简•威尔金森更不会。”
“你说你认识她，波洛先生？”
“是的。我认识她。”
他不再说话了。贾普好奇地望着他。
最后他说：“透漏点消息，如何？”
“啊，”波洛说，“我想起来了。你来此有何贯干？呢？不是来和老朋友叙旧的吧？肯定不是。你是为这件谋杀棠来的。你有罪犯，有犯罪动机。说起犯罪动机，顺便问一下。你认为犯罪动机是什么？”
“想和另一个人结婚。不到一个星期前，有人还听她说过这个。她还威胁说要雇一辆车，去把他干掉。”
“啊1”波洛说道，“你的消息还很灵通嘛——真是消息灵通！一定有人帮忙了。”
我想他眼神里是询问的目光，但尽管如此，贾普没反应。
“我们听说的。波洛先生。”他不动声色地回答道。
波洛点点头。他仲手去拿报纸。毫无疑问那张报纸是贾普在等我们的时候翻开的，我们进来的时候被匆匆地放在了一边。波洛很熟练地将它由中间折回原样，并用手把它抚平。尽管他的眼睛在报纸上，他的思绪却在一个疑问里。
“你还没回答我”，他说道，“既然一切都进展顺利，你为什么还来我这里？”
“因为我听说你昨天去摄政门找过埃奇韦尔男爵。”
“我明白了。”
“我一听说这个，我就对自己说，。这里面有戏。，男爵为什么找波洛先生？他怀疑什么？他恐惧什么？在采取措施之前。我还是和你谈谈。”
“你说。采取措施，是什么意思？是逮捕那位女士？”
“是的。”
“你还没见她吧？”
“啊！己经见过了。离开现场第一件事就是去萨伏依饭店。可不能让她溜了。”
“啊！”波洛说，“那么，你——”
他突然停了下来。他的眼睛一直暗暗地盯着眼前的报纸”在，改变了表情，起头来，一种新的腔调说
“啊！我的朋友，说了些什么？呢！她说了些什么？”
“当然。我像往常一样叫她交代事实，警告她说话要注意。不能让人说伦敦警方做事不公平啊。”
“我觉得这样够傻的。不过继续，位夫人怎么样了？”
“一阵歇斯底里发作——她就是这样的。滚来滚去，开手臂，来索性扑通倒在了地上。唤！她表演得真不错。我得为她说话，场很生动的表演。”
“啊，波洛温和地说，那么，当时的印象是她歇斯底里发作不是真的吗？”
贾普粗俗地眨眨眼。
“你又怎么想呢？我可不会被这种小把戏骗住。她根本没昏倒——根本不会。只是装模作样而已。我敢发誓她还觉得不错呢。”
“是的，波洛若有所思地说道，我以为那是有可能的。后来呢？”
“啊！后来她醒了——假装醒了。然后不住地哼哼，继续演戏。那个面孔呆板的女仆给她闻嗅盐。最后，她清醒过来可以说话了，她叫人去请她的律师。她说没有律师在场，她什么也不会说。先是歇斯底里，然后又是律师。先生，我要问你了。这是自然的吗？”
“就这件事而论，是很自然的。”波洛镇定地说。
“你的意思是因为她是有罪的，并且也知道自己是有罪的。才这样吗？”
“不是的。我认为这是因为她的脾气的缘故。首先她要让你看看一个女人突然听到丈夫死去时该是什么样。表演的本能得到满足后，以她天生精明的头脑。她立刻想到要请一个律师。至于故意造出那个假象，并且自己以为很像，并不足以证明她是有罪的。这只能表明她天生是做演员的料。”
“不过，她绝对不会是无辜的。这一点我敢肯定。”
“你很肯定。”波洛说，“也许是这样吧。你说她什么都不况。一点话也不说吗？”
贾普喇嘴笑了笑。
“律师不在，她拒绝说话。她的仆人给她的律师打了电话。我留了两个手下在那，就到你这来了。载想在继续调查之前还是来和你谈谈，看看还有什么。”
“你很肯定了？”
“当然我很肯定。但我想要尽可能多地知道些事实。你知道。这件案子一定会被大肆宣扬。这不可能是什么秘密的事。所有的报纸都会登满的。你也知道报纸的特点。”
“说到报纸，”波洛说道，“我的朋友，你对这如何解释？你还没仔细看过你的早报吧？”
他俯下身子看桌上的报纸。他的手指指着社会版上的一则消息，贾普大声地读了出来。
“蒙塔古爵士昨晚在齐西克河畔的府邸举办了一场很成功的晚会。出席人士有，乔治爵士、菲斯夫人、著名戏剧评论家詹姆斯•布伦特先生、奥弗赖电影公司的奥斯卡•哈默费尔特先生、简•威尔金森女士（埃奇韦尔夫人）等人。”
贾普惊讶地看了一会，才恢复正常。
“那与案件又有什么关系呢？这种消息是事先送到报馆的。你就会明白的。你会发现她并没在那里，或者她是晚去了——十一点左右。老伙计，你不要以为报纸里登的都是金科玉律。特别是你，应该比谁都明白这一点。”
“啊！我知道，我当然知道，我只是觉得很巧而已。”
“世上巧合的事是不少。波洛先生，我知道你是守口如瓶的，这一点，我早就领教过了。但这件事你会说出来的吧。你会告诉我为什么埃奇韦尔男爵请你去的。”
波洛摇摇头。
“不是埃奇韦尔男爵请我去的。是我要求他见我的。”
“真的吗？那为什么呢？”
波洛犹豫了一下。
“我会回答你这个问题的。”他慢慢地说道，“但是我得按我自己的方式回答你的问题。”
贾普气哼哼地。我暗暗地觉得同情他。波洛有的时候的确会让人想发火。
“我要请求你”，波洛继续说，“让我打电话给一个人叫他来这里。”
“什么人？”
“布赖恩•马丁先生。”
“那个电影明星？他和这有什么关系呢？”
“我想，”波洛说道，“你会发现他说的话很有趣的。很可能。也很有用的。黑斯廷斯，能劳您大驾吗？”
我拿起电话簿。这个明星在圣詹姆斯公园的一大栋高楼里有一套公寓。
“维多利亚49449……”
几分钟以后，布赖恩•马丁略带困意地接了电话。
“喂——哪一位？”
“我说什么？”我捂住话筒，低声问波洛。
“告诉他，”波洛说道，“就说埃奇韦尔男爵昨晚被杀了。如果他能立即来我们这见面，我们将不胜感激。”
我把他的话一字不落地重复了一遍。电话的另一端传来惊讶的叫减。
“我的天！”马丁说道，“她真的那么做了！我立刻来。”
“他说什么？”波洛问我。我告诉了他。
“啊！”波洛看起来很得意地说道，“。她真的那么做了！，他是那么说的？我就是这样想的。正如我所料。”
贾普好奇地望着他。
“我真弄不懂你，波洛先生。你先前说话的口气好像那位女士根本不会杀人的。现在你又说你对这一切都了如指掌。”
波洛只是笑而不答。
Chapter 6 The Widow寡妇
Chapter 6 The Widow
Bryan Martin was as good as his word. In less than ten minutes he had joined us. During the time that we waited his arrival, Poirot would only talk of extraneous subjects and refused to satisfy Japp’s curiosity in the smallest degree.
Evidently our news had upset the young actor terribly. His face was white and drawn.
‘Good heavens, M. Poirot,’ he said as he shook hands. ‘This is a terrible business. I’m shocked to the core - and yet I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve always half-suspected that something of this kind might happen. You may remember I was saying so yesterday.’
‘Mais oui, mais oui,’ said Poirot. ‘I remember perfectly what you said to me yesterday. Let me introduce you to Inspector Japp who is in charge of the case.’
Bryan Martin shot a glance of reproach at Poirot.
‘I had no idea,’ he murmured. ‘You should have warned me.’
He nodded coldly to the inspector.
He sat down, his lips pressed tightly together.
‘I don’t see,’ he objected, ‘why you asked me to come round. All this has nothing to do with me.’
‘I think it has,’ said Poirot gently. ‘In a case of murder one must put one’s private repugnancies behind one.’
‘No, no. I’ve acted with Jane. I know her well. Dash it all, she’s a friend of mine.’
‘And yet the moment that you hear Lord Edgware is murdered, you jump to the conclusion that it is she who has murdered him,’ remarked Poirot dryly.
The actor started.
‘Do you mean to say -?’ His eyes seemed starting out of his head. ‘Do you mean to say that I’m wrong? That she had nothing to do with it?’
Japp broke in.
‘No, no, Mr Martin. She did it right enough.’
The young man sank back again in his chair.
‘For a moment,’ he murmured, ‘I thought I’d made the most ghastly mistake.’
‘In a matter of this kind friendship must not be allowed to influence you,’ said Poirot decisively.
‘That’s all very well, but -’
‘My friend, do you seriously wish to range yourself on the side of a woman who has murdered? Murder - the most repugnant of human crimes.’
Bryan Martin sighed.
‘You don’t understand. Jane is not an ordinary murderess. She - she has no sense of right or wrong. Honestly she’s not responsible.’
‘That’ll be a question for the jury,’ said Japp.
‘Come, come,’ said Poirot kindly. ‘It is not as though you were accusing her. She is already accused. You cannot refuse to tell us what you know. You have a duty to society, young man.’
Bryan Martin sighed.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘What do you want me to tell you?’
Poirot looked at Japp.
‘Have you ever heard Lady Edgware - or perhaps I’d better call her Miss Wilkinson - utter threats against her husband?’ asked Japp.
‘Yes, several times.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said that if he didn’t give her her freedom she’d have to “bump him off ”.’
‘And that was not a joke, eh?’
‘No. I think she meant it seriously. Once she said she’d take a taxi and go round and kill him - you heard that, M. Poirot?’
He appealed pathetically to my friend.
Poirot nodded.
Japp went on with his questions.
‘Now, Mr Martin, we’ve been informed that she wanted her freedom in order to marry another man. Do you know who that man was?’
Bryan nodded.
‘Who?’
‘It was - the Duke of Merton.’
‘The Duke of Merton! Whew!’ The detective whistled. ‘Flying at high game, eh? Why, he’s said to be one of the richest men in England.’
Bryan nodded more dejectedly than ever.
I could not quite understand Poirot’s attitude. He was lying back in his chair, his fingers pressed together and the rhythmic motion of his head suggested the complete approval of a man who has put a chosen record on the gramophone and is enjoying the result.
‘Wouldn’t her husband divorce her?’
‘No, he refused absolutely.’
‘You know that for a fact?’
‘Yes.’
‘And now,’ said Poirot, suddenly taking part once more in the proceedings, ‘you see where I come in, my good Japp. I was asked by Lady Edgware to see her husband and try and get him to agree to a divorce. I had an appointment for this morning.’
Bryan Martin shook his head.
‘It would have been of no use,’ he declared confidently. ‘Edgware would never have agreed.’
‘You think not?’ said Poirot, turning an amiable glance on him.
‘Sure of it. Jane knew that in her heart of hearts. She’d no real confidence that you’d succeed. She’d given up hope. The man was a monomaniac on the subject of divorce.’
Poirot smiled. His eyes grew suddenly very green.
‘You are wrong, my dear young man,’ he said gently. ‘I saw Lord Edgware yesterday, and he agreed to a divorce.’
There was no doubt that Bryan Martin was completely dumbfounded by this piece of news. He stared at Poirot with his eyes almost starting out of his head.
‘You - you saw him yesterday?’ he spluttered.
‘At a quarter-past twelve,’ said Poirot in his methodical manner.
‘And he agreed to a divorce?’
‘He agreed to a divorce.’
‘You should have told Jane at once,’ cried the young man reproachfully.
‘I did, M. Martin.’
‘You did?’ cried Martin and Japp together.
Poirot smiled.
‘It impairs the motive a little, does it not?’ he murmured. ‘And now, M. Martin, let me call your attention to this.’
He showed him the newspaper paragraph.
Bryan read it, but without much interest.
‘You mean this makes an alibi?’ he said. ‘I suppose Edgware was shot some time yesterday evening?’
‘He was stabbed, not shot,’ said Poirot.
Martin laid the paper down slowly.
‘I’m afraid this does no good,’ he said regretfully. ‘Jane didn’t go to that dinner.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I forget. Somebody told me.’
‘That is a pity,’ said Poirot thoughtfully.
Japp looked at him curiously.
‘I can’t make you out, Moosior. Seems now as though you don’t want the young woman to be guilty.’
‘No, no, my good Japp. I am not the partisan you think. But frankly, the case as you present it, revolts the intelligence.’
‘What do you mean, revolts the intelligence? It doesn’t revolt mine.’
I could see words trembling on Poirot’s lips. He restrained them.
‘Here is a young woman who wishes, you say, to get rid of her husband. That point I do not dispute. She told me so frankly. Eh bien, how does she set about it? She repeats several times in the loud clear voice before witnesses that she is thinking of killing him. She then goes out one evening. Calls at his house, has herself announced, stabs him and goes away. What do you call that, my good friend? Has it even the common sense?’
‘It was a bit foolish, of course.’
‘Foolish? It is the imbecility!’
‘Well,’ said Japp, rising. ‘It’s all to the advantage of the police when criminals lose their heads. I must go back to the Savoy now.’
‘You permit that I accompany you?’
Japp made no demur and we set out. Bryan Martin took a reluctant leave of us. He seemed to be in a great state of nervous excitement. He begged earnestly that any further development might be reported to him.
‘Nervy sort of chap,’ was Japp’s comment on him.
Poirot agreed.
At the Savoy we found an extremely legal-looking gentleman who had just arrived, and we proceeded all together to Jane’s suite. Japp spoke to one of his men.
‘Anything?’ he inquired laconically.
‘She wanted to use the telephone!’
‘Who did she telephone to?’ inquired Japp eagerly.
‘Jay’s. For mourning.’
Japp swore under his breath. We entered the suite. The widowed Lady Edgware was trying on hats in front of the glass. She was dressed in a filmy creation of black and white. She greeted us with a dazzling smile.
‘Why, M. Poirot, how good of you to come along. Mr Moxon,’ (this was to the solicitor) ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. Just sit right by me and tell what questions I ought to answer. This man here seems to think that I went out and killed George this morning.’
‘Last night, madam,’ said Japp.
‘You said this morning. Ten o’clock.’
‘I said ten p.m.’
‘Well. I can never tell which is which - a.m.’s and p.m.’s.’
‘It’s only just about ten o’clock now,’ added the inspector severely.
Jane’s eyes opened very wide.
‘Mercy,’ she murmured. ‘It’s years since I’ve been awake as early as this. Why, it must have been Early Dawn when you came along.’
‘One moment, Inspector,’ said Mr Moxon in his ponderous legal voice. ‘When am I to understand that this - er - regrettable - most shocking - occurrence took place?’
‘Round about ten o’clock last night, sir.’
‘Why, that’s all right,’ said Jane sharply. ‘I was at a party - Oh!’ She covered her mouth up suddenly. ‘Perhaps I oughtn’t to have said that.’
Her eyes sought the solicitor’s in timid appeal.
‘If, at ten o’clock last night, you were - er - at a party, Lady Edgware, I - er - I can see no objection to your informing the inspector of the fact - no objection whatever.’
‘That’s right,’ said Japp. ‘I only asked you for a statement of your movements yesterday evening.’
‘You didn’t. You said ten something m. And anyway you gave me the most terrible shock. I fainted dead away, Mr Moxon.’
‘About this party, Lady Edgware?’
‘It was at Sir Montagu Corner’s - at Chiswick.’
‘What time did you go there?’
‘The dinner was for eight-thirty.’
‘You left here - when?’
‘I started about eight o’clock. I dropped in at the Piccadilly Palace for a moment to say goodbye to an American friend who was leaving for the States - Mrs Van Dusen. I got to Chiswick at a quarter to nine.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘About half-past eleven.’
‘You came straight back here?’
‘Yes.’
‘In a taxi?’
‘No. In my own car. I hire it from the Daimler people.’
‘And whilst you were at the dinner you didn’t leave it?’
‘Well - I -’
‘So you did leave it?’
It was like a terrier pouncing on a rat.
‘I don’t know what you mean. I was called to the telephone when we were at dinner.’
‘Who called you?’
‘I guess it was some kind of hoax. A voice said, “Is that Lady Edgware?” And I said, “Yes, that’s right,” and then they just laughed and rang off.’
‘Did you go outside the house to telephone?’
Jane’s eyes opened wide in amazement.
‘Of course not.’
‘How long were you away from the dinner table?’
‘About a minute and a half.’
Japp collapsed after that. I was fully convinced that he did not believe a word she was saying, but having heard her story he could do no more until he had confirmed or disproved it.
Having thanked her coldly, he withdrew.
We also took our leave but she called Poirot back.
‘M. Poirot. Will you do something for me?’
‘Certainly, Madame.’
‘Send a cable for me to the Duke in Paris. He’s at the Crillon. He ought to know about this. I don’t like to send it myself. I guess I’ve got to look the bereaved widow for a week or two.’
‘It is quite unnecessary to cable, Madame,’ said Poirot gently. ‘It will be in the papers over there.’
‘Why, what a headpiece you’ve got! Of course it will. Much better not to cable. I feel it’s up to me to keep up my position now everything’s gone right. I want to act the way a widow should. Sort of dignified, you know. I thought of sending a wreath of orchids. They’re about the most expensive things going. I suppose I shall have to go to the funeral. What do you think?’
‘You will have to go to the inquest first, Madame.’
‘Why, I suppose that’s true.’ She considered for a moment or two. ‘I don’t like that Scotland Yard inspector at all. He just scared me to death. M. Poirot?’
‘Yes?’
‘Seems it’s kind of lucky I changed my mind and went to that party after all.’
Poirot had been going towards the door. Suddenly, at these words, he wheeled round.
‘What is that you say, Madame? You changed your mind?’
‘Yes. I meant to give it a miss. I had a frightful headache yesterday afternoon.’
Poirot swallowed once or twice. He seemed to have a difficulty in speaking.
‘Did you - say so to anyone?’ he asked at last.
‘Certainly I did. There was quite a crowd of us having tea and they wanted me to go on to a cocktail party and I said “No.” I said my head was aching fit to split and that I was going right home and that I was going to cut the dinner too.’
‘And what made you change your mind, Madame?’
‘Ellis went on at me. Said I couldn’t afford to turn it down. Old Sir Montagu pulls a lot of strings, you know, and he’s a crotchety creature - takes offence easily. Well, I didn’t care. Once I marry Merton I’m through with all this. But Ellis is always on the cautious side. She said there’s many a slip, etc., and after all I guess she’s right. Anyway, off I went.’
‘You owe Ellis a debt of gratitude, Madame,’ said Poirot seriously.
‘I suppose I do. That inspector had got it all taped out, hadn’t he?’
She laughed, Poirot did not. He said in a low voice:
‘All the same - this gives one furiously to think. Yes, furiously to think.’
‘Ellis,’ called Jane.
The maid came in from the next room.
‘M. Poirot says it’s very lucky you made me go to that party last night.’
Ellis barely cast a glance at Poirot. She was looking grim and disapproving.
‘It doesn’t do to break engagements, m’lady. You’re much too fond of doing it. People don’t always forgive it. They turn nasty.’
Jane picked up the hat she had been trying on when we came in. She tried it again.
‘I hate black,’ she said disconsolately. ‘I never wear it. But I suppose, as a correct widow I’ve just got to. All those hats are too frightful. Ring up the other hat place, Ellis. I’ve got to be fit to be seen.’
Poirot and I slipped quietly from the room.

第六章 寡妇
布赖恩•马丁说话很算数，不到十分钟，他就来到了我们这里。我们在等待他来期间。，波洛只谈些无关的话题，一点也不满足贾普的好奇心。
很显然，我们的消息使得这位年轻的演员很不安。他的脸拉长着，没有一丝血色。
“我的天哪！波洛先生，”他边握手边说道，“这真是一件可怕的事。我实在是被吓坏了——不过，我不能说我觉得惊讶。我始终都有种推测，这种事可能发生。你也许还记得我昨天说过的话。”
“当然记得，当然记得。”，波洛先生说道，“你昨天对我说的话，我记得相当清楚。让我来给你介绍一下贾普警督，他负责这个秦子。”
布赖恩•马丁责备地看了一眼波洛。
“我不知道还有人在，”他低声道。“你该早告诉我。”
他向警督冷冷地点点头。
他坐下来，双唇紧紧地抿在一起。
“我不明白”，他反问波洛，“你为什么叫我来。这事和我毫无关系。”
“我认为有关系”，波洛温和地说，“谋杀案事关重大，个人怨气都应放在一边。”
“不，不，我和简一起演戏。我很了解她。可恶！她是我的朋友。我怎么会对她有怨气呢？”
“但你一听说埃奇韦尔男爵被谋杀，就立刻得出结论是她杀的。”波洛不动声色地说。
这个演员急了。
“你是说——”他的眼睛急得直往外突，“你是想说我有问题吗？她和这个案子毫无关系？”
贾普插话了。
“不是的”是的，丁先生，肯定干了。”
那年轻人沉沉地坐回椅子。
“我还以为我犯了个大错呢。”他低声道。
“遇到这种事，决不该因为友情而影响你自己的判断。”波洛肯定地说道。
“对，但是——”
“我的朋友，难道你希望自己站到一个女杀人犯的旁边？是谋杀——世间最可恶的罪行。”
布赖恩•马丁叹了一口气。
“你们不明白的。简不是一个普通的女谋杀犯。她——她根本没有是非感。老实说，她是不该负贡任的。”
“那要由陪审团来决定了。”贾普说道。
“说吧，说吧。”波洛友善地说，“这并不是你在指控她。她已经被指控了。你不该不告诉我们你所知道的一切。年轻人，你对社会是有责任的。”
布赖恩•马丁叹了一口气。
“我想你是对的。”他说道，“你们想让我告诉你们什么？”
波洛看了看贾普。
“你是否听到过埃奇韦尔夫人——或者说威尔金森女士——说过威胁她丈夫的话？”贾普问道。
“是的，好几次。”
“她说了什么？”
“她说如果他不给她自由的话，她就要‘干掉他’。”
“那不是开玩笑的。嚼？”
“是的。我想她是认真的。有一次，她说她要雇一辆出租车去干掉他。波洛先生。这话你也听到的，是吗？”
他可怜地向我的朋友求援。
波洛点点头。
贾普继续询问。
“马丁先生。现在我们知道她要自由是想嫁给另一个人。你知道那个人是谁吗？”
布赖恩点点头。
“谁？”
“是——默顿公爵。”
“默顿公爵！哟！”侦探吹了一声口哨。
“在攀高枝！据说他是英国首富之一。”
马丁点点头，更加垂头丧气了。
我不太明白波洛的态度。他靠在椅子上，双手交叉，头有节奏地不时地点着，好像一个人选出了唱片放到唱机上，静听着效果。
“她的丈夫愿意和她离婚吗？”
“不，他完全拒绝。”
“你肯定这是事实吗？”
“是的。”
“现在，”波洛突然加入进来，“我的贾普老友。你知道我和这事的关系了。我是受简的委托，去和她丈夫商量，请他答应离婚的。我和他约了今天早晨见面。”
布赖恩•马丁摇摇头。
“那也毫无用处的。”他确信无疑地说，“埃奇韦尔不会同意的。”
“你认为他不会同意？”波洛向他投去和蔼的目光。
“当然。简心里面明镜似的，她并非真以为你会成功的。她早绝望了。在离婚这个问题上，那个人是个偏执狂。”
波洛笑了。他的眼光发亮了。
“你错了，年轻人。”他友善地说道，“昨天我见到了埃奇韦尔男爵，他已经同意离婚了。”
毫无疑问，布赖恩•马丁听了这消息目瞪口呆。他目不转睛地盯着波洛。眼珠子都快掉出来了。
“你一—你昨天见了他？”他急促地问道。
“十二点一刻的时候。”波洛还是一板一眼地说。
“他同意离婚了？你应该立刻告诉简的。”他责备地说。
“我是立刻告诉她了。马丁先生。”
“你立刻告诉她了？”马丁和贾普不约而同地喊道。
波洛笑了。
“这就有点影响动机了，是不是？”他低声道，“马丁先生，现在让我提醒你看看这个，”
他让他看报纸上的那一段。
布赖思看了，但他没有感兴趣。
“你认为这证明她不在犯罪现场？”他说道，“我设想埃奇韦尔是昨晚的某个时候被枪杀的。”
“他是被刺杀的，不是枪杀。”波洛纠正道。
马丁将报纸慢慢放下。
“我想这也没用。”他很遗憾地说。“简没有参加那个宴会。”
“你怎么知道的？”
“我忘了，有人告诉我的。”
“真遗憾。”波洛若有所思地说。
“我真弄不懂你。先生。你好像不希望这位女士是有罪的。”
“不是的，不是的。我的好贾普，我并非像你想象那样偏袒她。不过，说实话。你所办的这个案子有违常理。”
“你这话是什么意思？有违常理？这可不有违我的常理。”
我能看出波洛的唇抖动着，想很快地说什么，但他还是很自制地说话。
“正如你所说的。这位女士想摆脱她的丈夫。这一点我不反对你。她也很坦率地这样告诉过我。我的朋友，她如何去干呢？她很大声地在许多证人面前说她要杀掉他。然后去他的住处，自己通名报姓，杀了他后扬长而去。我的朋友，你如何解释这些？这难道是常理吗？”
“当然是有点冒傻气。”
“傻气？简直是白痴！”
“好吧。”贾普站了起来说道。“要是罪犯都发傻了，对警察就有利了。我现在要回萨伏依饭店了。”
“我可以同去吗？”
贾普没反对，我们就出发了。马丁很不情愿地离开我们。他精神很亢奋，一再要求我们有了新情况及时告诉他。
“是个神经质的青年。”贾普这样评论他。
波洛有同感。
在萨伏依饭店，我们看见一位极像律师的人刚刚到达。于是我们一起去了简的套房。贾普和他的人说话。
“有什么事吗？”他简捷地问道。
“她要打电话。”
“打给了谁？”贾普急切地问道。
“打给鲤鸟贸易行。买丧服。”
贾普低声咒了一句。我们走进套房。
新寡的埃奇韦尔夫人正对着镜子试帽子。她穿着一件黑白相间、反着光的衣服，容光焕发地笑着与我们打招呼。
“怎么，波洛先生，您也来了，真是太好了。莫克森先生（是她的律师），我很高兴你来了。请坐在我旁边，告诉我该回答什么问题。这个人来这，好像觉得是我今天早上出去将乔治杀了。”
“是昨天夜里，女士。”贾普说。
“你说今天早晨，十点钟。”
“我是说晚上十点钟。”
“啊，我分不清什么上午下午的。”
“现在才刚刚十点钟。”侦探严厉地补充了一句。
简的眼睛张得大大的。
“天哪，”她低低的声音说，“我有好几年没这么早地醒了。你刚才来的时候，一定是天刚刚亮。”
“警督，请问，”莫克森先生用一种严密的法律口吻说，“这件——值得叹惜的——令人震惊的事，是发生在什么时候？”
“大约是在昨晚十点钟左右，先生。”
“怎么，那就好说了。”简机警地说，“我在一个宴会上——唤！”她突然又把嘴捂上，“大概我不该那么说。”
她胆怯地盯着律师的脸，表示求助地询问。
“如果，昨天晚上十点你是在——呃——宴会上，埃奇韦尔女士，我——呃一我不反对你向警督讲述事实——绝不反对。”
“是的，”贾普说，“我只是让你讲一下昨天晚上的行踪。”
“你不是这么说的。你只是说什么十点钟——把我吓坏了。我就昏了过去”克森先生。”
“那么关于这个宴会呢？埃奇韦尔夫人。？”
“那是在齐西克——蒙塔古府上。”
“你什么时候去那的？”
“晚宴是在八点三十分。”
“你什么时候动身的？”。
“我大约八点钟动身。我去了趟皮卡迪利王宫饭店和一个美国朋友告别。她是范。杜森夫人，要回芙国去。我到齐西克时是八点四十五分。”
“你什么时候离开宴会的？”
“大约十一点半。”
“你直接回这里了？”
“是的。”
“坐出租车？”
“不是。坐我自己的车。我从戴姆勒车行租的。”
“你在宴会上，一直没有离开过吗？”
“嗯，我——”
“你没离开过？”
这种问法像猎狗扑鼠，节节逼近。
“我不明白你是什么意思。我在晚宴上。十点左右去接了个电话。”
“谁打给你的？”
“我想是什么恶作剧。一个声音说，‘是埃奇韦尔夫人吗？’我回答说是，‘那就对了。’电话那一端大笑，然后就把电话挂断了。”
“你是走出房间接的电话吗？”
简惊讶地睁大眼睛。
“当然不是。”
“你离开餐桌多久？”
“大概有一分半钟。”
贾普一下子很颓丧。我深知他对筒的话一句也不信，但听了她讲的，在没有得到证实前，他一点办法也没有。
他冷冷地表示感谢，便告退了。
我们也要离开，但她把波洛叫住了。
“波洛先生，您能为我做点事吗？”
“当然可以，夫人。”
“帮我给在巴黎的默顿公爵打个电报。他在克里伦饭店。他该知道这些的。我不想自己去发。我想在一两周内，我得表现出一个刚刚守寡的样子。”
“根本没有必要打电报，夫人，”波洛温和地说道，“那里的报纸上会登出来的。”
“看，您是多么有头脑！当然会的。不打电报更好。我想现在我一定要保待自己的身份，一切都如意了。我要有寡妇的样子。您知道，要很严肃。我想送去一个蓝花环。那是顶贵的了。我想我得去参加葬礼。您认为呢？”
“夫人，你得先去回答询问。”
“啊！我想您是对的。”她想了一会说道，“我不喜欢那个警察厅的警督。波洛先生，他要把我吓死了。”
“是吗？”
“幸亏我改变了主意，去了那个晚宴。”
波洛正往门那儿走，听到这话，他突然转过身来。
“夫人“你说什么？你改变了主意？”
“是的，我本想不去，因为昨天下午头痛得厉害。”
波洛咽了一两口唾沫，好像很难开口说什么。
“你对谁说过吗？”他最后问道。
“当然说过。我们好多人在一起喝茶，他们让我直接去鸡尾酒会。我说。不行，。我说我头痛得要裂开了，所以我要直接回家，不去那个晚宴了。”
“夫人，那么你为什么又改变了主意呢？”
“埃利斯骂了我。她说我不该不参加。老蒙塔古爵士是个有势力的幕后人士。您知道的。他是个有怪癣的人，很容易生气的。但我不怕。我——和默顿结婚，这些我都不怕的。但埃利斯很谨慎。她说有很多事要小心的。最后我想她是对的，所以我就去了。”
“夫人，你该好好感谢埃利斯。”波洛先生严肃地说。
“我想是该，那位警督把一切都了解明白了，是吧？”
她笑了。波洛却没有笑。他低低的声音说。
“可是一这倒让人得好好研究一下，是的，应该好好研究一下。”
“埃利斯！”简叫道。
女仆从另一个房间走过来。
“波洛先生说，多亏你昨天让我去那个晚宴。”
埃利斯几乎望也没望波洛一眼。她的样子很冷漠，不以为然的样子。
“夫人，失约是不行的。您总喜欢那样。人们不会总原谅您的。他们会恼怒的。”
简又把那顶我们进屋时她试的帽子拿了起来。她又把它戴上。
“我不喜欢黑色。”她郁郁不乐地说，“我从来不戴黑帽子。但做一个合格的寡妇，我不得不戴。所有这些帽子都难看极了。再给其它的帽店打个电话，埃利斯。我要找到一顶合适好看的。”
波洛和我悄声地从房间里走出来。
Chapter 7 The Secretary秘书
Chapter 7 The Secretary
We had not seen the last of Japp. He reappeared about an hour later, flung down his hat on the table and said he was eternally blasted.
‘You have made the inquiries?’ asked Poirot sympathetically.
Japp nodded gloomily.
‘And unless fourteen people are lying, she didn’t do it,’ he growled.
He went on:
‘I don’t mind telling you, M. Poirot, that I expected to find a put-up job. On the face of it, it didn’t seem likely that anyone else could have killed Lord Edgware. She’s the only person who’s got the ghost of a motive.’
‘I would not say that. Mais continuez.’
‘Well, as I say, I expected to find a put-up job. You know what these theatrical crowds are - they’d all hang together to screen a pal. But this is rather a different proposition. The people there last night were all big guns, they were none of them close friends of hers and some of them didn’t know each other. Their testimony is independent and reliable. I hoped then to find that she’d slipped away for half an hour or so. She could easily have done that - powdering her nose or some such excuse. But no, she did leave the dinner table as she told us to answer a telephone call, but the butler was with her - and, by the way, it was just as she told us. He heard what she said. “Yes, quite right. This is Lady Edgware.” And then the other side rang off. It’s curious, that, you know. Not that it’s got anything to do with it.’
‘Perhaps not - but it is interesting. Was it a man or a woman who rang up?’
‘A woman, I think she said.’
‘Curious,’ said Poirot thoughtfully.
‘Never mind that,’ said Japp impatiently. ‘Let’s get back to the important part. The whole evening went exactly as she said. She got there at a quarter to nine, left at half-past eleven and got back here at a quarter to twelve. I’ve seen the chauffeur who drove her - he’s one of Daimler’s regular people. And the people at the Savoy saw her come in and confirm the time.’
‘Eh bien, that seems very conclusive.’
‘Then what about those two in Regent Gate? It isn’t only the butler. Lord Edgware’s secretary saw her too. They both swear by all that’s holy that it was Lady Edgware who came here at ten o’clock.’
‘How long has the butler been there?’
‘Six months. Handsome chap, by the way.’
‘Yes, indeed. Eh bien, my friend, if he has only been there six months he cannot have recognized Lady Edgware since he had not seen her before.’
‘Well, he knew her from her pictures in the papers. And anyway the secretary knew her. She’s been with Lord Edgware five or six years, and she’s the only one who’s absolutely positive.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘I should like to see the secretary.’
‘Well, why not come along with me now?’
‘Thank you, mon ami, I should be delighted to do so. You include Hastings in your invitation, I hope?’
Japp grinned.
‘What do you think? Where the master goes, there the dog follows,’ he added in what I could not think was the best of taste.
‘Reminds me of the Elizabeth Canning Case,’ said Japp. ‘You remember? How at least a score of witnesses on either side swore they had seen the gipsy, Mary Squires, in two different parts of England. Good reputable witnesses, too. And she with such a hideous face there couldn’t be two like it. That mystery was never cleared up. It’s very much the same here. Here’s a separate lot of people prepared to swear a woman was in two different places at the same time. Which of ’em is speaking the truth?’
‘That ought not to be difficult to find out.’
‘So you say - but this woman - Miss Carroll, really knew Lady Edgware. I mean she’d lived in the house with her day after day. She wouldn’t be likely to make a mistake.’
‘We shall soon see.’
‘Who comes into the title?’ I asked.
‘A nephew, Captain Ronald Marsh. Bit of a waster, I understand.’
‘What does the doctor say as to the time of death?’ asked Poirot.
‘We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to be exact, you know. See where the dinner had got to.’ Japp’s way of putting things was, I am sorry to say, far from refined. ‘But ten o’clock fits in well enough. He was last seen alive at a few minutes past nine when he left the dinner table and the butler took whisky and soda into the library. At eleven o’clock when the butler went up to bed the light was out - so he must have been dead then. He wouldn’t have been sitting in the dark.’
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. A moment or two later we drew up at the house, the blinds of which were now down.
The door was opened to us by the handsome butler.
Japp took the lead and went in first. Poirot and I followed. The door opened to the left, so that the butler stood against the wall on that side. Poirot was on my right and, being smaller than I was, it was only just as we stepped into the hall that the butler saw him. Being close to him, I heard the sudden intake of his breath and looked sharply at the man to find him staring at Poirot with a kind of startled fear visible on his face. I put the fact away in my mind for what it might be worth.
Japp marched into the dining-room, which lay on our right, and called the butler in after him.
‘Now then, Alton, I want to go into this again very carefully. It was ten o’clock when this lady came?’
‘Her ladyship? Yes, sir.’
‘How did you recognize her?’ asked Poirot.
‘She told me her name, sir, and besides I’ve seen her portrait in the papers. I’ve seen her act, too.’
Poirot nodded.
‘How was she dressed?’
‘In black, sir. Black walking dress, and a small black hat. A string of pearls and grey gloves.’
Poirot looked a question at Japp.
‘White taffeta evening dress and ermine wrap,’ said the latter succinctly.
The butler proceeded. His tale tallied exactly with that which Japp had already passed on to us.
‘Did anybody else come and see your master that evening?’ asked Poirot.
‘No, sir.’
‘How was the front door fastened?’
‘It has a Yale lock, sir. I usually draw the bolts when I go to bed, sir. At eleven, that is. But last night Miss Geraldine was at the opera so it was left unbolted.’
‘How was it fastened this morning?’
‘It was bolted, sir. Miss Geraldine had bolted it when she came in.’
‘When did she come in? Do you know?’
‘I think it was about a quarter to twelve, sir.’
‘Then during the evening until a quarter to twelve, the door could not be opened from outside without a key? From the inside it could be opened by simply drawing back the handle.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How many latchkeys were there?’
‘His lordship had his, sir, and there was another key in the hall drawer which Miss Geraldine took last night. I don’t know if there were any others.’
‘Does nobody else in the house have a key?’
‘No, sir. Miss Carroll always rings.’
Poirot intimated that that was all he wished to ask and we went in search of the secretary.
We found her busily writing at a large desk.
Miss Carroll was a pleasant efficient-looking woman of about forty-five. Her fair hair was turning grey and she wore pince-nez through which a pair of shrewd blue eyes gleamed out on us. When she spoke I recognized the clear businesslike voice that had spoken to me through the telephone.
‘Ah! M. Poirot,’ she said as she acknowledged Japp’s introduction. ‘Yes. It was with you I made that appointment for yesterday morning.’
‘Precisely, Mademoiselle.’
I thought that Poirot was favourably impressed by her. Certainly she was neatness and precision personified.
‘Well, Inspector Japp?’ said Miss Carroll. ‘What more can I do for you?’
‘Just this. Are you absolutely certain that it was Lady Edgware who came here last night?’
‘That’s the third time you’ve asked me. Of course I’m sure. I saw her.’
‘Where did you see her, Mademoiselle?’
‘In the hall. She spoke to the butler for a minute then she went along the hall and in at the library door.’
‘And where were you?’
‘On the first floor - looking down.’
‘And you were positive you were not mistaken?’
‘Absolutely. I saw her face distinctly.’
‘You could not have been misled by a resemblance?’
‘Certainly not. Jane Wilkinson’s features are quite unique. It was her.’
Japp threw a glance at Poirot as much as to say: ‘You see.’
‘Had Lord Edgware any enemies?’ asked Poirot suddenly.
‘Nonsense,’ said Miss Carroll.
‘How do you mean - nonsense, Mademoiselle?’
‘Enemies! People in these days don’t have enemies. Not English people!’
‘Yet Lord Edgware was murdered.’
‘That was his wife,’ said Miss Carroll.
‘A wife is not an enemy - no?’
‘I’m sure it was a most extraordinary thing to happen. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening - I mean to anyone in our class of life.’
It was clearly Miss Carroll’s idea that murders were only committed by drunken members of the lower classes.
‘How many keys are there to the front door?’
‘Two,’ replied Miss Carroll promptly. ‘Lord Edgware always carried one. The other was kept in the drawer in the hall, so that anybody who was going to be late in could take it. There was a third one, but Captain Marsh lost it. Very careless.’
‘Did Captain Marsh come much to the house?’
‘He used to live here until three years ago.’
‘Why did he leave?’ asked Japp.
‘I don’t know. He couldn’t get on with his uncle, I suppose.’
‘I think you know a little more than that, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot gently.
She darted a quick glance at him.
‘I am not one to gossip, M. Poirot.’
‘But you can tell us the truth concerning the rumours of a serious disagreement between Lord Edgware and his nephew.’
‘It wasn’t so serious as all that. Lord Edgware was a difficult man to get on with.’
‘Even you found that?’
‘I’m not speaking of myself. I never had any disagreement with Lord Edgware. He always found me perfectly reliable.’
‘But as regards Captain Marsh -’
Poirot stuck to it, gently continuing to goad her into further revelations.
Miss Carroll shrugged her shoulders.
‘He was extravagant. Got into debt. There was some other trouble - I don’t know exactly what. They quarrelled. Lord Edgware forbade him the house. That’s all.’
Her mouth closed firmly. Evidently she intended to say no more.
The room we had inteviewed her in was on the first floor. As we left it, Poirot took me by the arm.
‘A little minute. Remain here if you will, Hastings. I am going down with Japp. Watch till we have gone into the library, then join us there.’
I have long ago given up asking Poirot questions beginning ‘Why?’ Like the Light Brigade ‘Mine not to reason why, mine but to do or die,’ though fortunately it has not yet come to dying! I thought that possibly he suspected the butler of spying on him and wanted to know if such were really the case.
I took up my stand looking over the banisters. Poirot and Japp went first to the front door - out of my sight. Then they reappeared walking slowly along the hall. I followed their backs with my eye until they had gone into the library. I waited a minute or two in case the butler appeared, but there was no sign of anyone, so I ran down the stairs and joined them.
The body had, of course, been removed. The curtains were drawn and the electric light was on. Poirot and Japp were standing in the middle of the room looking round them.
‘Nothing here,’ Japp was saying.
And Poirot replied with a smile:
‘Alas! not the cigarette ash - nor the footprint - nor a lady’s glove - nor even a lingering perfume! Nothing that the detective of fiction so conveniently finds.’
‘The police are always made out to be as blind as bats in detective stories,’ said Japp with a grin.
‘I found a clue once,’ said Poirot dreamily. ‘But since it was four feet long instead of four centimetres no one would believe in it.’
I remembered the circumstance and laughed. Then I remembered my mission.
‘It’s all right, Poirot,’ I said. ‘I watched, but no one was spying upon you as far as I could see.’
‘The eyes of my friend Hastings,’ said Poirot in a kind of gentle mockery. ‘Tell me, my friend, did you notice the rose between my lips?’
‘The rose between your lips?’ I asked in astonishment. Japp turned aside spluttering with laughter.
‘You’ll be the death of me, M. Poirot,’ he said. ‘The death of me. A rose. What next?’
‘I had the fancy to pretend I was Carmen,’ said Poirot quite undisturbed.
I wondered if they were going mad or if I was.
‘You did not observe it, Hastings?’ There was reproach in Poirot’s voice.
‘No,’ I said, staring. ‘But then I couldn’t see your face.’
‘No matter.’ He shook his head gently.
Were they making fun of me?
‘Well,’ said Japp. ‘No more to do here, I fancy. I’d like to see the daughter again if I could. She was too upset before for me to get anything out of her.’
He rang the bell for the butler.
‘Ask Miss Marsh if I can see her for a few moments?’
The man departed. It was not he, however, but Miss Carroll who entered the room a few minutes later.
‘Geraldine is asleep,’ she said. ‘She’s had a terrible shock, poor child. After you left I gave her something to make her sleep and she’s fast asleep now. In an hour or two, perhaps.’
Japp agreed.
‘In any case there’s nothing she can tell you that I can’t,’ said Miss Carroll firmly.
‘What is your opinion of the butler?’ asked Poirot.
‘I don’t like him much and that’s a fact,’ replied Miss Carroll. ‘But I can’t tell you why.’
We had reached the front door.
‘It was up there that you stood, was it not, last night, Mademoiselle?’ said Poirot suddenly, pointing with his hands up the stairs.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘And you saw Lady Edgware go along the hall into the study?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you saw her face distinctly?’
‘Certainly.’
‘But you could not have seen her face, Mademoiselle. You can only have seen the back of her head from where you were standing.’
Miss Carroll flushed angrily. She seemed taken aback.
‘Back of her head, her voice, her walk! It’s all the same thing. Absolutely unmistakable! I tell you I know it was Jane Wilkinson - a thoroughly bad woman if there ever was one.’
And turning away she flounced upstairs.

第七章 秘书
贾普离开房间后一直没在我们面前露面。直到一个小时后他才又露面。把帽子扔到桌上，说他筒直倒霉透了。
“你已经调查过了？”波洛同情地问他。
贾普愁苦地点点头。
“除非那十四个人都在说谎，照他们所说的情形，不是她干的。”他低吼着。
他又继续说道。
“我不妨对你说，波洛先生，我本来以为这是一个阴谋。从表面上看，好像没有其他什么人可能要谋杀埃奇韦尔男爵。她是惟一有杀人动机的人。”
“我可不那样想。你接着说。”
“晤，就像我刚才讲的。我本以为这是一个阴谋。你知道这些演艺圈的人是怎么样的——他们会齐力庇护一个老朋友。但这次情形不同。咋天宴会上的都是有头有脸的大人物。其中没有一个是她的老友，有的甚至还互不认识的。他们的证词都是独立可信的。我希望能发现她曾经溜出去半小时左右。这是很容易做到的——只消说去补补妆或其它什么理由就行。但实际上没有。正如她所说的，她曾离席出去接过电话，但那是和管家在一起，另外，那个电话内容也和她说的一样。她说的话，管家都听见了，‘对，我是埃奇韦尔夫人。’但电话的那一端就挂上了。这一点，要知道，是很奇怪的。不过，不一定与这个案子有关。”
“也许无关——但真有趣。那个打电话的人是男的还是女的？”
“是个女的，我记得她说过。”
“这真是怪了。”波洛若有所思地说。
“先别管这个了。”贾普不耐烦地说道，“我们继续回到重要之处吧。整个晚上的经过和她说的完全一致。她九点差一刻到达那里，十一点半离开。回到萨伏依饭店是十二点差一刻。我已经见了那个为她开车的司机——他是戴姆勒车行的长期雇员。萨伏依饭店里的人看见她进来的。能证实她所讲的时间。”
“那么。似乎毫无怀疑的余地了。”
“那么摄政门的两个人的证词又是怎么回事呢？不仅仅是管家看到她了。埃奇韦尔的秘书也看到她了。他们都对天发誓说那天晚上十点钟到那去的人是埃奇韦尔夫人。”
“管家在那干了多久了？”
“六个月。谈起他来，还真是一个英俊小生。”
“是的，我的朋友。我的朋友，如果他只在那工作了六个月。他不可能认为埃奇韦尔夫人，为他以前从未见过她。”
“晤。他可以从报纸上她的照片认识她。况且秘书是知道她的。这位秘书为埃奇韦尔男爵已经干了五六年了。她是惟一有把握的人。”
“啊！”波洛说道，我倒想见见那个秘书。”
“那么，不同我一块儿去一趟？”
“谢谢你，的朋友。我很高兴去。你的邀请也包括我的朋友黑斯廷斯，吧？”
贾普咧嘴笑了。
“你认为呢？主人到哪，巴狗就跟到哪。”他这样补充道。我听着觉得很不是味。
“这案子使我想起了伊丽莎白。坎宁案。”贾普说道，“他们还记得吗？两方面都至少有二十个证人发誓说他们看到过那个叫玛丽•斯夸尔斯的吉普赛女子，且是同一时候在英国两个不同的地方。那些证人也都是非常令人尊敬的人物。并且她长的那副讨厌的尊容，也找不出第二个了，那件谜案一直未破。这一次也很相似。这次有许多互不相识的人可以发誓，证明同时在两个不同的地方看到过她。可是他们中的哪些人说的是实话呢？”
“那不难弄明白。”
“你是这样说——但这位女士——卡罗尔小姐的确认识埃奇韦尔夫人。我是说，曾经和简终日住在一座房子里面。她总不该认错人吧？”
“我们不久就会弄清楚的。”
“谁来继承爵位？”我问道。
“一个侄子。罗纳德•马什上尉。听说是个有点不务正业的浪荡子。”
“关于死亡时间，医生怎么说的？”波洛问道。
“我还得等验尸结果。你知道，要想精确些，就得这样。看看晚饭吃的东西到达哪了。”贾普讲述事情的方式，我实在不敢恭维，有点不雅。
“不过十点钟可以和各种事实相吻合。人们最后一次看到他是在九点过几分的时候，他离开了餐桌。管家将威士忌和苏打水送到书房。当十一点，管家去睡觉时，灯已经熄了——那时他一定已经死了。他不可能一直在黑暗中坐着。”
波洛若有所思地点点头。过了一会，我们的车子在埃奇韦尔府邱前停下来。窗帷已经拉了下来。
为我们开门的是那位英俊的管家。
贾普在前面带路，先进去。我和波洛跟在他后面。那个门是向左开的，所以管家就靠着那面墙站着。波洛在我的右边，因为他比我长得矮小，所以直到我们走进了前厅，管家才看见他。我离这个人很近，所以可以听见他重重地吸了一口气，我望了望他，发现他正惊慌地盯着波洛，虽然我想其中必有原因。但一转念就过去了。
餐厅就在我们右面，贾普大步走了进去，并叫管家也进去。
“奥尔顿，现在我要仔细地再问你一遍，当那位女士走进来时。是十点吗？”
“你是说男爵夫人？是的。先生。”
“你怎么认出是她的？”波洛发问。
“她向我说了她的名字。先生。另外我在报纸上看到过她的照片，也看过她演戏。”
波洛点点头。
“她穿着什么样的衣服？”
“黑色的。先生，外面披着黑色的外套，戴着一顶小黑帽，挂着一串珠子。戴着一副灰手套。”
波洛用疑问的目光望着贾普。
“里面穿着白色绪纹绸的晚礼服，披着貂皮的披肩。”后者简明地加以说明。
管家继续说，他要讲的和贾普告诉我们的完全一致。
“那晚还有人来拜访你家主人吗？”波洛问道。
“没有。先生。”
“前门是怎样锁的？”
“用的是耶鲁锁。先生。我通常是睡觉前再把门闩上，先生。也就是十一点的时候。但是，昨天晚上杰拉尔丁小姐出去看戏，所以门没有闩。”
“今天清晨门是怎么关着的？”
“是闩住的，先生。是杰拉尔丁小姐回来后把门闩上的。”
“她什么时候回来的，你知道吗？”
“我想大约在差一刻十二点的时候，先生。”
“那么，在晚上十二点差一刻前，没有钥匙就不能从外面开门进来，是不是？但从里面只要将手捅一转就可以开门了。”
“是的，先生。”
“有几把钥匙？”
“男爵有一把，先生。还有一把放在前厅抽屉里的，昨晚杰拉尔丁小姐拿去了。另外还有没有，我就不知道了。”
“这房子里，别人没有钥匙吗？”
“没有，先生。卡罗尔小姐总是按门铃的。”
波洛告诉他，自己要问的就这些了。然后我们去找那个女秘书。
我们看到，她正伏在一张大桌前忙碌地写着什么。
卡罗尔小姐大约四十多岁，是位悦人的、样子很干练的女士。她头发斑白，戴着一副夹鼻眼镜，一双精明的蓝眼睛，透过玻璃片炯炯有神地望着我们。当她开口说话时，那干脆利落、公事公办的声音使我立刻意识到是电话里通过话的那一位。
“啊！波洛先生，”经过贾普的介绍，她说道，“是的，我就是与您约定昨天上午与公爵会面的。”
“一点不错，小姐。”
我觉得波洛对她的印象颇好。的确她个性简洁干练。
“那么，贾普警督？”卡罗尔小姐问道，“我还能为您做什么？”
“就是这一点。你绝对肯定昨晚来这的那位是埃奇韦尔夫人吗？”
“这是您第三次问我了。我当然肯定。我看见了她。”
“你看见她在哪里，女士？”
“在大厅里。她与管家说了一会，就穿过大厅，走人书房的门。”
“那时你在哪里？”
“在二楼——向下看。”
“你肯定不会认错吧？”
“当然。我看得很渭楚。”
“会不会是一个长得很像的人，你把她误认为男爵夫人了？”
“当然不会。简•威尔金森的五官长得很特殊的。就是她。”
贾普向波洛瞥了一眼，好像是在说；“你明白了吧。”
“埃奇韦尔男爵有什么敌人吗？”波洛突然问道。
“乱说！”卡罗尔小姐说道。
“女士，‘乱说’——你是什么意思？”
“敌人！现在人们不会有敌人。特别是英国人，不会有的。”
“但埃奇韦尔男爵被谋杀了。”
“那是他太太。”卡罗尔小姐说道。
“太太不是敌人一不是吗？”
“我相信这只是一件特殊的、非同寻常的事。我从未听说过发生这样的事——我是说像我们这样有身份的人。”
按卡罗尔小姐的意识，只有下层的酒鬼们才会杀人。
“前门有几把钥匙？”
“两把。”卡罗尔小姐立即回答道，“埃奇韦尔男爵总爱自己带一把。另外一把放在前厅抽屉里，这样，谁回来得晚，就可以用那一把。还有一把，马什上尉给弄丢了。真是很不小心的。”
“马什上尉经常来这房子吗？”
“三年前，他是一直住这的。”
“他为什么离开了？”贾普间道。
“我不清楚。我想是和他叔叔合不来吧。”
“小姐，我想你知道的不只这些吧？”波洛温和地问道。
她迅速地瞧了一眼他。
“我不是那种乱讲闲话的人，波洛先生。”
“外面传言埃奇韦尔男爵和他的侄儿有很严重的不和，关于这点，你可以告诉我们实情吗？”
“事实上根本没有那样严重。埃奇韦尔男爵是一个很难相处的人。”
“你都发现这一点了？”
“我不是说我自己。我与埃奇韦尔男爵从未有过不和。他始终认为我很可靠。”
“但关于马什上尉——”
波洛紧迫不舍，一点点地引导她说出实情。
“他挥霍无度，最后欠馈。还有其它的麻烦——我也不清楚确切是什么。他们两人大吵一通，埃奇韦尔男爵把他轰出了门。就是这些。”
现在她紧闭双唇。很明显。她不打算再说什么了。
我们与她谈话的房间在二楼，当我们离开的时佞。波洛拉住我的胳膊。
“等——下，黑斯廷斯，再在这呆一下，好吗？我现在同贾普下楼去。看着我们走人书房后，再往下走和我们会合。”
很久以前，我就不再问他什么“为什么”的问题了。就像《轻骑兵》里写的那样：“我的问题不是问为什么，而是去战还是去死。”幸亏还没到去死的程度。我以为他是怀疑管家会在监视他，于是让我注意是否如此。
我站住由栏杆上往下望。波洛和贾普先到前门处——这时候就看不见他们了。然后他们又重新出现，慢慢地顺着大厅走。我眼睛盯着他们的背影，一直到他们走人书房。我又等了一两分钟。恐怕那个管家出现。但没有人出现。因此我跑下褛去和他们会合。
当然，尸体已经移走了。窗帷都拉了下来。屋里开着灯。波洛和贾普站在屋中央。环视着四周。
“这儿没有什么。”贾普说道。
波洛笑着回答说，
“天哪！没有烟灰——没有脚印——没有女人的手套——甚至没有残留的香味！没有任何像小说中侦探很容易找到的东西。”
“在侦探小说中，警察总被写得跟蝙蝠一样瞎。”贾普咧嘴笑着说。
“我曾经找到过线索，”波洛心不在焉地说，“但因为那线索是四英尺长，而不是四英寸，所以没人相信。”
我想起了那回事，不禁大笑了。然后我想起他交代给我的任务。
“波洛。没问题。”我说道，“我观察过了，就我所观察的情形看，没人监视你。”
“黑斯廷斯的眼睛在看着我们，”波洛带着一种咯微嘲弄的口吻说道，“告诉我，我的朋友，你注意到我的嘴里夹着一朵玫瑰花吗？”
“你嘴里夹着玫瑰花？”我惊讶地问道。贾普转向一边哈哈大笑。
“波洛先生，你让我笑死了。”他说道，“一朵攻瑰花，接着又是什么？”
“我是假设我就是卡门。”波洛毫不在意地回答道。
我真弄不明白，是他们有毛病，还是我有问题。
“黑斯廷斯，你没注意到吗？”波洛的话里含着一种责备的口吻。
“没有。”我瞪着眼睛说道，“我根本看不清你的脸。”
“没关系的。”他轻轻地摇摇头。
他们是在和我开玩笑吗？
“得了，”贾普说，“我想这里也没什么要做的了。如果可能的话，我想再和他的女儿谈谈。先前去问她的时候，她太伤心了，什么也没说。”
他按铃叫管家。
“去问一下马什小姐，我能不能和她谈一会？”
管家去了。几分钟以后，不是他。倒是卡罗尔小姐出现了。
“杰拉尔丁在睡觉。”她说道，“这可怜的孩子，她受的打击太大了。你走后，我给她吃了点药让她睡觉。现在她正睡得香呢。大概一两个小时后会醒来的。”
贾普点点头。
“不论什么事，她能告诉你们的，我也能。”卡罗尔坚决地说。
“你对管家怎么看？”波洛问道。
“我不太喜欢他。这是事实。”卡罗尔小姐说，“但我不能说出原因。”
这时我们已经走到了前门。
“小姐，昨晚你是站在那上面，是不是？”波洛手指着楼上问。
“是的。怎么了？”
“那么你看着埃奇韦尔夫入穿过大厅、走入书房的？”
“是的。”
“她的脸。你看得很清楚吗？”
“当然。”
“但是，小姐，你不可能看得到她的脸。从你站的地方，你只能看见她的后脑勺。”
卡罗尔小姐脸气得涨红了，她似乎很吃惊。
“她的后脑勺，她的声音。还有她走路的样子！都是一样的。我绝对不会错的！我告诉你，我知道她是简•威尔金森——一个世上坏透顶的女人。”
于是她转过身，气冲冲地快步上楼去了。
Chapter 8 Possibilities几种可能性
Chapter 8 Possibilities
Japp had to leave us. Poirot and I turned into Regent’s Park and found a quiet seat.
‘I see the point of your rose between the lips now,’ I said, laughing. ‘At the moment I thought you had gone mad.’
He nodded without smiling.
‘You observe, Hastings, that the secretary is a dangerous witness, dangerous because inaccurate. You notice that she stated positively that she saw the visitor’s face? At the time I thought that impossible. Coming from the study - yes, but not going to the study. So I made my little experiment which resulted as I thought, and then sprung my trap upon her. She immediately changed her ground.’
‘Her belief was quite unaltered, though,’ I argued. ‘And after all, a voice and a walk are just as unmistakable.’
‘No, no.’
‘Why, Poirot, I think a voice and the general gait are about the most characteristic things about a person.’
‘I agree. And therefore they are the most easily counterfeited.’
‘You think -’
‘Cast your mind back a few days. Do you remember one evening as we sat in the stalls of a theatre -’
‘Carlotta Adams? Ah! but then she is a genius.’
‘A well-known person is not so difficult to mimic. But I agree she has unusual gifts. I believe she could carry a thing through without the aid of footlights and distance -’
A sudden thought flashed into my mind.
‘Poirot,’ I cried. ‘You don’t think that possibly - no, that would be too much of a coincidence.’
‘It depends how you look at it, Hastings. Regarded from one angle it would be no coincidence at all.’
‘But why should Carlotta Adams wish to kill Lord Edgware? She did not even know him.’
‘How do you know she did not know him? Do not assume things, Hastings. There may have been some link between them of which we know nothing. Not that that is precisely my theory.’
‘Then you have a theory?’
‘Yes. The possibility of Carlotta Adams being involved struck me from the beginning.’
‘But, Poirot -’
‘Wait, Hastings. Let me put together a few facts for you. Lady Edgware, with a complete lack of reticence, discusses the relations between her and her husband, and even goes so far as to talk of killing him. Not only you and I hear this. A waiter hears it, her maid probably has heard it many times, Bryan Martin hears it, and I imagine Carlotta Adams herself hears it. And there are the people to whom these people repeat it. Then, in that same evening, the excellence of Carlotta Adams’ imitation of Jane is commented upon. Who had a motive for killing Lord Edgware? His wife.
‘Now supposing that someone else wishes to do away with Lord Edgware. Here is a scapegoat ready to his hand. On the day when Jane Wilkinson announced that she had a headache and is going to have a quiet evening - the plan is put into operation.
‘Lady Edgware must be seen to enter the house in Regent Gate. Well, she is seen. She even goes so far as to announce her identity. Ah! c’est peu trop, ?a! It would awaken suspicion in an oyster.
‘And another point - a small point, I admit. The woman who came to the house last night wore black. Jane Wilkinson never wears black. We heard her say so. Let us assume, then, that the woman who came to the house last night was not Jane Wilkinson - that it was a woman impersonating Jane Wilkinson. Did that woman kill Lord Edgware?
‘Did a third person enter that house and kill Lord Edgware? If so, did the person enter before or after the supposed visit of Lady Edgware? If after, what did the woman say to Lord Edgware? How did she explain her presence? She might deceive the butler who did not know her, and the secretary who did not see her at close quarters. But she could not hope to deceive her husband. Or was there only a dead body in the room? Was Lord Edgware killed before she entered the house - sometime between nine and ten?’
‘Stop, Poirot!’ I cried. ‘You are making my head spin.’
‘No, no, my friend. We are only considering possibilities. It is like trying on the clothes. Does this fit! No, it wrinkles on the shoulder? This one? Yes, that is better - but not quite large enough. This other one is too small. So on and so on - until we reach the perfect fit - the truth.’
‘Who do you suspect of such a fiendish plot?’ I asked.
‘Ah! that is too early to say. One must go into the question of who has a motive for wishing Lord Edgware dead. There is, of course, the nephew who inherits. A little obvious that, perhaps. And then in spite of Miss Carroll’s dogmatic pronouncement, there is the question of enemies. Lord Edgware struck me as a man who very easily might make enemies.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘That is so.’
‘Whoever it was must have fancied himself pretty safe. Remember, Hastings, but for her change of mind at the last minute, Jane Wilkinson would have had no alibi. She might have been in her room at the Savoy, and it would have been difficult to prove it. She would have been arrested, tried - probably hanged.’
I shivered.
‘But there is one thing that puzzles me,’ went on Poirot. ‘The desire to incriminate her is clear - but what then of the telephone call? Why did someone ring her up at Chiswick and, once satisfied of her presence there, immediately ring off. It looks, does it not, as if someone wanted to be sure of her presence there before proceeding to - what? That was at nine-thirty, almost certainly before the murder. The intention then seems - there is no other word for it - beneficent. It cannot be the murderer who rings up - the murderer has laid all his plans to incriminate Jane. Who, then, was it? It looks as though we have here two entirely different sets of circumstances.’
I shook my head, utterly fogged.
‘It might be just a coincidence,’ I suggested.
‘No, no, everything cannot be a coincidence. Six months ago, a letter was suppressed. Why? There are too many things here unexplained. There must be some reason linking them together.’
He sighed. Presently he went on:
‘That story that Bryan Martin came to tell us -’
‘Surely, Poirot, that has got no connection with this business.’
‘You are blind, Hastings, blind and wilfully obtuse. Do you not see that the whole thing makes a pattern? A pattern confused at present but which will gradually become clear . . .’
I felt Poirot was being over-optimistic. I did not feel that anything would ever become clear. My brain was frankly reeling.
‘It’s no good,’ I said suddenly. ‘I can’t believe it of Carlotta Adams. She seemed such a - well, such a thoroughly nice girl.’
Yet, even as I spoke, I remembered Poirot’s words about love of money. Love of money - was that at the root of the seemingly incomprehensible? I felt that Poirot had been inspired that night. He had seen Jane in danger - the result of the strange egotistical temperament. He had seen Carlotta led astray by avarice.
‘I do not think she committed the murder, Hastings. She is too cool and level-headed for that. Possibly she was not even told that murder would be done. She may have been used innocently. But then -’
He broke off, frowning.
‘Even so, she’s an accessory after the fact now. I mean, she will see the news today. She will realize -’
A hoarse sound broke from Poirot.
‘Quick, Hastings. Quick! I have been blind - imbecile. A taxi. At once.’
I stared at him.
He waved his arms.
‘A taxi - at once.’
One was passing. He hailed it and we jumped in.
‘Do you know her address?’
‘Carlotta Adams, do you mean?’
‘Mais oui, mais oui. Quickly, Hastings, quickly. Every minute is of value. Do you not see?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t.’
Poirot swore under his breath.
‘The telephone book? No, she would not be in it. The theatre.’
At the theatre they were not disposed to give Carlotta’s address, but Poirot managed it. It was a flat in a block of mansions near Sloane Square. We drove there, Poirot in a fever of impatience.
‘If I am not too late, Hastings. If I am not too late.’
‘What is all this haste? I don’t understand. What does it mean?’
‘It means that I have been slow. Terribly slow to realize the obvious. Ah! mon Dieu, if only we may be in time.’

第八章 几种可能性
贾普不得不和我们分路而走了。波洛和我转入摄政王公园，来到一个僻静处，找了一个长椅坐下来。
“我现在明白你嘴上叼着的玫瑰了。”我笑着说，“那时我还以为你有毛病呢。”
他没有笑，只是点了点头。
“黑斯廷斯，你瞧，那个女秘书是个危险的证人。她之所以危险，是因为她的证词不准确。你注意到，她曾很肯定地说她看到了来访者的面孔吗？那时我还想是可能的，如果从书房里走出来一—是的，不是走进书房。所以我就让你试验一下，结果证实了我想的，然后我就给她设了个套儿，她就立刻改变了立场。”
“但是她的想法很难改变的。”我争辩道，“况且声音和走路姿势也是不容易认错的。”
“不然，不然。”
“波洛，为什么？我认为声音和走路姿势是一个人最重要的特征。”
“这个，我赞成。因此它们也是最容易伪造的。”
“你认为——”
“你回想一下前几天的事。记得”一天晚上，们坐在戏院里——”
“卡洛塔•亚当斯？啊！她那时真是个天才。”
“一个有名的人物是不难模仿的。当然我同意，她有不寻常的天赋。我认为没有舞台灯光，不用从远处看，她也能模仿得惟妙惟肖。”
我脑中突然出现一个念头。
“波洛”，我喊道，“你不会以为一—不，那样就太巧合了。”
“黑斯廷斯，这要看你怎样看了。从某个角度看，这绝非巧合。”
“但卡洛塔•亚当斯为什么要杀埃奇韦尔男爵呢？她甚至还不认识他。”
“你怎么知道她不认识他？黑斯廷斯。不要妄做假定。他们之间可能有某种联系，只是我们不知道而已。但这只是我的假想。”
“那么你有一种假想了。”
“是的，从一开始我就觉得卡洛塔•亚当斯可能涉及到这件事。”
“但是，波洛——”
“等一下，黑斯廷斯。先让我把一些事实联系起来给你看。埃奇韦尔夫人毫无保留地谈论她与丈夫的关系，甚至说到要杀掉他，不仅仅是你我听到的。一个侍者听到过，她的仆人可能听到过好多次了，布赖恩•马丁也听到过，还有卡洛塔•亚当斯本人也听到过。这些人再把这话讲给别人。就在那天晚上。卡洛塔•亚当斯把简扮演得惟妙惟肖，大受好评。谁有杀害埃奇韦尔男爵的动机呢？他的妻子。
“现在假设有另外一个人想干掉埃奇韦尔男爵。那这里正好有一个替罪羊随手可用。那天，简•威尔金森说她头很痛，想在家静静地休息一下时——杀人计划就开始了。
“埃奇韦尔夫人被人看见进了男爵公馆的门。于是，有人看到了。她竟然自己通告身份。啊！这实在太过分了。这让谁看了都会疑心的。
“另外，还有一点——我承认是很微不足道的一点。昨晚来的女士穿黑色外套。但是简•威尔金森从不穿黯色衣服。我们亲耳听她这样说的。那么我们可以假定昨晚来男爵府的那位女士不是简•威尔金森——是有人冒充简•威尔金森。是那个女人杀的埃奇韦尔男爵吗？
“有没有第三个人进了房子，杀死埃奇韦尔男爵呢？如果有，那个人是在假定的埃奇韦尔夫人来访之前，还是之后进来的呢？如果是之后，那么那位来访女士对埃奇韦尔男爵说了些什么？她如何解释自己的来访？她可以骗过管家，因为他不认识她，她也可以骗过女秘书，因为女秘书没有从近处看她；但她不可能骗过男爵。或者房见里已是一具尸体？在九点到十点间，在她进来之间，男爵已经被杀了吗？”
“波洛，别说了。”我叫道，“你说得我头都大了。”
“别，别。我的朋友。我们只是在考虑几种可能性。就像试衣服一样。这件合适吗？不合适，肩部皱了点？那么这一件呢？好，好多了——但还不够大。这件太小了。一件一件地来，直到我们找到最合适的一件，也就是最终找出事实真相。”
“你怀疑是谁想出这样狠毒的计划？”我问他。
“啊！现在说还太早。我们必须研究一下还有谁有动机希望埃奇韦尔男爵死去。当然有一个，就是他的侄子，继承人。也许，这有些太显而易见了。另外，虽然埃奇韦尔夫人声称要杀他。我们还要考虑他有没有敌人。给我的感觉是埃奇韦尔男爵这个人很容易树敌。”
“是的，”我赞同道，“是这样的。”
“不论是谁，他一定觉得自己相当安全。记着这一点，黑斯廷斯，要不是简•威尔金森在最后一刻改变了主意，她将无法证明自己不在现场。她可能呆在萨伏依饭店的房间里，但这是很难证实的。她就可能被捕，被审讯——很可能被绞死。”
我打了一个冷颤。
“但是，有一件事我始终不明白。”波洛继续说道，“有人要加罪于她一这是很明显的。但是那个电话又是怎么回事呢？为什么有人打电话到齐西克找她呢？而且确定她在后、又立刻把电话挂断了。看起来，是不是有人想在下手之前确定一下她在那个晚会上？那是在九点三十分。凶杀发生之前。那么，目的似乎是——没有其它的词可用了——善意的。不可能是凶手打的电话——因为他已经计划好一切，要栽赃于简。那么，是谁呢？我们似乎可以猜出两种完全不同的情况。”
我摇着头，如在雾中。
“也许只是巧合。”我提醒道。
“不会的，不会的。不能事事都是巧合。六个月前，有一封信被扣了，为什么？这里还有很多事情得不到解释。其中一定有联系起来的因素。”
他叹了一口气。然后马上接着说道，
“布赖恩•马丁和我们讲的——”
“波洛，那和这事一定没关系的。”
“黑斯廷斯，你太盲目了。盲目而且顽固不化。你难道看不出整个的都是编排好的把戏吗？目前我们还不知道他们要什么花样，但逐渐地，我们会知道的。”
我觉得波洛太乐观了。我可不觉得事情会水落石出。我的脑子实际上已经转不过来了。
“没有用的。”我突然说道，“我不相信卡洛塔•亚当斯会做这种事。她是这样一个——这样一个好女子。”，
尽管我嘴上这样说着，心里却想着波洛说过贪钱的话。贪钱——难道这就是现在这一切看起来不可思议的事情的根源吗？我觉得波洛那天晚上极有灵感。他已经预见到简处于危境之中——因为她那种特殊的、以自我为中心的个性。他也预见到卡洛塔因贪婪而误入歧途。
“我不认为是她杀的人，黑斯廷斯。她很冷静，稳健，不
会做那种事。很可能她还不知道有人被杀了。她一定是被利用了，而自己还不知道呢。但是。那么——”
他突然停下不说话了，眉头皱着。
“就是这样，她也是从犯了。我是说，她会看到今天的报纸。她就会意识到——”
波洛突然发出沙哑的喊声。
“快！黑斯廷斯。快！我太愚味了——白痴一样。快叫出租车！快！”
我目瞪口呆地盯着他。
他挥手拦车。“出租车——快！”
有一辆出租车驶过来。他叫住了车，我们立刻跳上去。
“你知道她的地址吗？”
“你是说卡洛塔•亚当斯？”
“是的，是的。快，黑斯廷斯，快。每一分钟都很重要。你明白吗？”
“不明白，”我说道，“我不明白。”
波洛低声地骂了一句。
“查电话簿吧。不行，她的地址不在电话簿里。到剧院去。”
在剧院里，人家不肯告诉我们卡洛塔的地址，但最终波洛还是问到了。她住在斯隆：“场一幢大厦中的一间套房里。
“但愿我没来迟，黑斯廷斯，但愿我没来迟。”
“为什么说会来迟？我不明白。这是什么意思。”
“就是说。我已经迟了。明明白白的东西”却这么晚才意识到。啊！我的朋友，愿我们来得及。”
Chapter 9 The Second Death第二起命案
Chapter 9 The Second Death
Though I did not understand the reason for Poirot’s agitation, I knew him well enough to be sure that he had a reason for it.
We arrived at Rosedew Mansions, Poirot sprang out, paid the driver and hurried into the building. Miss Adams’ flat was on the first floor, as a visiting-card stuck on a board informed us.
Poirot hurried up the stairs, not waiting to summon the lift which was at one of the upper floors.
He knocked and rang. There was a short delay, then the door was opened by a neat middle-aged woman with hair drawn tightly back from her face. Her eyelids were reddened as though with weeping.
‘Miss Adams?’ demanded Poirot eagerly.
The woman looked at him.
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘Heard? Heard what?’
His face had gone deadly pale, and I realized that this, whatever it was, was what he had feared.
The woman continued slowly to shake her head.
‘She’s dead. Passed away in her sleep. It’s terrible.’
Poirot leaned against the doorpost.
‘Too late,’ he murmured.
His agitation was so apparent that the woman looked at him with more attention.
‘Excuse me, sir, but are you a friend of hers? I do not remember seeing you come here before?’
Poirot did not reply to this directly. Instead he said:
‘You have had a doctor? What did he say?’
‘Took an overdose of a sleeping draught. Oh! the pity of it! Such a nice young lady. Nasty dangerous things - these drugs. Veronal he said it was.’
Poirot suddenly stood upright. His manner took on a new authority.
‘I must come in,’ he said.
The woman was clearly doubtful and suspicious.
‘I don’t think -’ she began.
But Poirot meant to have his way. He took probably the only course that would have obtained the desired result.
‘You must let me in,’ he said. ‘I am a detective and I have got to inquire into the circumstances of your mistress’s death.’
The woman gasped. She stood aside and we passed into the flat.
From there on Poirot took command of the situation.
‘What I have told you,’ he said authoritatively, ‘is strictly confidential. It must not be repeated. Everyone must continue to think that Miss Adams’ death was accidental. Please give me the name and address of the doctor you summoned.’
‘Dr Heath, 17 Carlisle Street.’
‘And your own name?’
‘Bennett - Alice Bennett.’
‘You were attached to Miss Adams, I can see, Miss Bennett.’
‘Oh! yes, sir. She were a nice young lady. I worked for her last year when she were over here. It wasn’t as though she were one of those actresses. She were a real young lady. Dainty ways she had and liked everything just so.’
Poirot listened with attention and sympathy. He had now no signs of impatience. I realized that to proceed gently was the best way of extracting the information he wanted.
‘It must have been a great shock to you,’ he observed gently.
‘Oh! it was, sir. I took her in her tea - at half-past nine as usual and there she was lying - asleep I thought. And I put the tray down. And I pulled the curtains - one of the rings caught, sir, and I had to jerk it hard. Such a noise it made. I was surprised when I looked round to see she hadn’t woken. And then all of a sudden something seemed to take hold of me. Something not quite natural about the way she lay. And I went to the side of the bed, and I touched her hand. Icy cold it was, sir, and I cried out.’
She stopped, tears coming into her eyes.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Poirot sympathetically. ‘It must have been terrible for you. Did Miss Adams often take stuff to make her sleep?’
‘She’d take something for a headache now and again, sir. Some little tablets in a bottle, but it was some other stuff she took last night, or so the doctor said.’
‘Did anyone come to see her last night? A visitor?’
‘No, sir. She was out yesterday evening, sir.’
‘Did she tell you where she was going?’
‘No, sir. She went out about seven o’clock.’
‘Ah! How was she dressed?’
‘She had on a black dress, sir. A black dress and a black hat.’
Poirot looked at me.
‘Did she wear any jewellery?’
‘Just the string of pearls she always wore, sir.’
‘And gloves - grey gloves?’
‘Yes, sir. Her gloves were grey.’
‘Ah! Now describe to me, if you will, what her manner was. Was she gay? Excited? Sad? Nervous?’
‘It seemed to me she was pleased about something, sir. She kept smiling to herself, as though there were some kind of joke on.’
‘What time did she return?’
‘A little after twelve o’clock, sir.’
‘And what was her manner then? The same?’
‘She was terribly tired, sir.’
‘But not upset? Or distressed?’
‘Oh! no, sir. I think she was pleased about something, but just done up, if you know what I mean. She started to ring someone up on the telephone, and then she said she couldn’t bother. She’d do it tomorrow morning.’
‘Ah!’ Poirot’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He leaned forward and spoke in a would-be indifferent voice.
‘Did you hear the name of the person she rang up?’
‘No, sir. She just asked for the number and waited and then the exchange must have said: “I’m trying to get them” as they do, sir, and she said: “All right,” and then suddenly she yawned and said: “Oh! I can’t bother. I’m too tired,” and she put the receiver back and started undressing.’
‘And the number she called? Do you recollect that? Think. It may be important.’
‘I’m sorry I can’t say, sir. It was a Victoria number and that’s all I can remember. I wasn’t paying special heed, you see.’
‘Did she have anything to eat or drink before she went to bed?’
‘A glass of hot milk, sir, like she always did.’
‘Who prepared it?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘And nobody came to the flat that evening?’
‘Nobody, sir.’
‘And earlier in the day?’
‘Nobody came that I can remember, sir. Miss Adams was out to lunch and tea. She came in at six o’clock.’
‘When did the milk come? The milk she drank last night?’
‘It was the new milk she had, sir. The afternoon delivery. The boy leaves it outside the door at four o’clock. But, oh! sir, I’m sure there wasn’t nothing wrong with the milk. I had it myself for tea this morning. And the doctor he said positive as she’d taken the nasty stuff herself.’
‘It is possible that I am wrong,’ said Poirot. ‘Yes, it is possible that I am entirely wrong. I will see the doctor. But you see, Miss Adams had enemies. Things are very different in America -’
He hesitated, but the good Alice leapt at the bait.
‘Oh! I know, sir. I’ve read about Chicago and them gunmen and all that. It must be a wicked country and what the police can be about, I can’t think. Not like our policemen.’
Poirot left it thankfully at that, realizing that Alice Bennett’s insular proclivities would save him the trouble of explanations.
His eye fell on a small suitcase - more of an attaché case, that was lying on a chair.
‘Did Miss Adams take that with her when she went out last night?’
‘In the morning she took it, sir. She didn’t have it when she came back at tea-time, but she brought it back last thing.’
‘Ah! You permit that I open it?’
Alice Bennett would have permitted anything. Like most canny and suspicious women, once she had overcome her distrust she was child’s play to manipulate. She would have assented to anything Poirot suggested.
The case was not locked, Poirot opened it. I came forward and looked over his shoulder.
‘You see, Hastings, you see?’ he murmured excitedly.
The contents were certainly suggestive.
There was a box of make-up materials, two objects which I recognized as elevators to place in shoes and raise the height an inch or so, there was a pair of grey gloves and, folded in tissue paper, an exquisitely-made wig of golden hair, the exact shade of gold of Jane Wilkinson’s and dressed like hers with a centre parting and curls in the back of the neck.
‘Do you doubt now, Hastings?’ asked Poirot.
I believe I had up to that moment. But now I doubted no longer.
Poirot closed the case again and turned to the maid.
‘You do not know with whom Miss Adams dined yesterday evening?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Do you know with whom she had lunch or tea?’
‘I know nothing about tea, sir. I believe she lunched with Miss Driver.’
‘Miss Driver?’
‘Yes, her great friend. She has a hat shop in Moffat Street, just off Bond Street. Genevieve it’s called.’
Poirot noted the address in his notebook just below that of the doctor.
‘One thing more, Madame. Can you remember anything - anything at all - that Mademoiselle Adams said or did after she came in at six o’clock that strikes you as at all unusual or significant?’
The maid thought for a moment or two.
‘I really can’t say that I do, sir,’ she said at last. ‘I asked her if she would have tea and she said she’d had some.’
‘Oh! she said she had had it,’ interrupted Poirot. ‘Pardon. Continue.’
‘And after that she was writing letters till just on the time she went out.’
‘Letters, eh? You do not know to whom?’
‘Yes, sir. It was just one letter - to her sister in Washington. She wrote to her sister twice a week regular. She took the letter out with her to post because of catching the mail. But she forgot it.’
‘Then it is here still?’
‘No, sir. I posted it. She remembered last night just as she was getting into bed. And I said I’d run out with it. By putting an extra stamp on it and putting it in the late fee box it would be all right.’
‘Ah! - and is that far?’
‘No, sir, the post office is just around the corner.’
‘Did you shut the door of the flat behind you?’ Bennett stared.
‘No, sir. I just left it to - as I always do when I go out to post.’
Poirot seemed about to speak - then checked himself.
‘Would you like to look at her, sir?’ asked the maid tearfully. ‘Looks beautiful she does.’
We followed her into the bedroom.
Carlotta Adams looked strangely peaceful and much younger than she had appeared that night at the Savoy. She looked like a tired child asleep.
There was a strange expression on Poirot’s face as he stood looking down on her. I saw him make the sign of the Cross.
‘J’ai fait un serment, Hastings,’ he said as we went down the stairs.
I did not ask him what his vow was. I could guess.
A minute or two later he said:
‘There is one thing off my mind at least. I could not have saved her. By the time I heard of Lord Edgware’s death she was already dead. That comforts me. Yes, that comforts me very much.’

第九章 第二起命案
我虽然不明白波洛激动的原因。但我对他太了解了，肯定他是有道理的。
我们终于到了玫瑰露大厦。波洛跳下车来付了车费，匆匆地走人大厦。亚当斯小姐的套房在二楼，们是由一块公告板上钉着的一张名片上得知的。
电梯在上面一层，洛来不及等了就急忙步行上楼梯。
他又是敲门，是按铃。过了片刻，位整洁的中年妇女开了门。她的头发向后梳得紧紧的，圈红红的像是刚哭过。
“亚当斯小姐在吗？”波洛焦急地问道。
那妇女望着他。
“您还没听说？”
“听说？听说什么？”
他的脸突然变得如死灰一股，我意识到，不论发生的是什么事情，那正是波洛所担优的。
那位妇女不停地慢慢地摇着头。
“她死了。在睡梦中离开了人世。真是太可怕了。”
波洛倚在门柱上。
“太晚了。”他低声地说道。
他的激动如此明显，以至于那位妇女更注意地望着他。
“对不起。先生。您是她的一位朋友吗？我不记得曾看见您来过这里。”
波洛没有直接回答这个问题。却说。
“你请过医生了吗？他怎么说？”
“服了过量的安眠药。唉！太可惜了！这么好的一位小姐。这种安眠药一真是可恶的、危险的东西。医生说是叫佛罗那。”
波洛突然站得挺直。他的态度变得很威严。
“我得进去。”他说道。
很明显那位妇女有些疑心。
“我想恐怕——”她开始说道。
但波洛执意要进去，于是他用了一种可能是惟一的办法以达到预期结果。
“你必须让我进去。”他说道，“我是侦探，我奉命来调查你女主人死亡一案。”
那位妇女吃了一惊，忙闪到一边。于是我们走进了套房。
从那时起，波洛开始指挥这个场面了。
“我对你说的，”他威严地对那位妇女说道，“是绝对保密的。不能对任何人再提起。一定要让每个人都觉得亚当斯小姐的死是意外的。请告诉我你请过的那位医生的地址。”
“希思大夫，住卡莱尔大街l7号。”
“你的名字是——”
“贝内特，艾丽斯。贝内特。”
“你和亚当斯小姐感情很好，我可以看出来的，贝内特小姐。”
“唉！是的，先生。她是一位非常好的女士。我去年在她搬到这里的时候开始为她工作。她不像那些女演员。她是一位实实在在的小姐。她的举止很优雅，也喜欢一切优雅的东西。”
波洛充满同情地、认真地听着。他没有一丝不耐烦的样子。我知道慢慢地、一点一点来，是他得到自己想要的消息的最好办法。
“这对你的打击一定不小。”他温和地说。
“唤！是的，先生。照例在九点半的时候，我给她端进来茶水。但她躺在那里，所以我以为她睡着了。我把托盘放下。然后拉开窗帘。其中一个环卡住了，先生，我不得不用力拽，声音很大。我回头一望，很惊讶地发现没把她吵醒。我忽然觉得有点不对劲。她躺在那里的姿势似乎不大对。我就走到床边。摸摸她的手。那手冰冷冰冷的，我吓得大叫起来。”
她说到这里。停下来，眼泪不住地流下来。
“是啊，是啊”，波洛充满同情地说道，“这对你来说太可怕了。亚当斯小姐经常服药品以便睡觉吗？”
“先生，她有时因头痛吃药，是一个瓶子里的一些小药片。但医生说她昨天吃的是另一种药。”
“昨天晚上有人来拜访她吗？来访者？”
“没有，先生。昨天晚上她出去了，先生。”
“她告诉你她去哪儿了吗？”
“没有，先生。她大约是在七点出去的。”
“啊！她穿什么衣服？”
“她穿着一件黑衣服，先生。一套黑套装，一顶黑帽子。”
波洛看了看我。
“她戴什么首饰了吗？”
“只戴着平常戴的那串珠子，先生。”
“手套呢——是灰色的手套吗？”
“是的，先生，她戴的是灰色的手套。”
“啊！你能否给我讲一下她当时的态度。她是高兴呢？还是兴奋？悲哀？或是不安？”
“照我看，她好像对一件事很满意，先生。她不住地微笑着。好像有什么好玩的事似的。”
“她是什么时候回来的？”
“先生，十二点过一点。”
“那时候，她的态度怎样？还是那样吗？”
“她非常的累。先生。”
“但是，她不沮丧？或者痛苦？”
“唤！没有，先生。我想她是为一件事很得意，不过是干完太累了。不知道您是否明白我的意思。她拿起电话打给某人，然后她又说不想麻烦了，她要第二天再打。”
“啊！”波洛的两眼炯炯有神。他俯过身去用一种假装不在乎的口气间。
“你听到她是打给谁的吗？”
“没有，先生。她只是要了个号码等着。然后中转台大慨在说。我正在帮您接通，之类常说的话，先生。于是她说。‘好吧。’她又突然打哈欠说。‘啊！我可等不耐烦了。我太累了。’然后她就将听筒放回原处，开始脱衣服。”
“记得她要的号码吗？你还记得吗？想一想，这个很重要。”
“对不起。先生，我想不起来了。我所能记起的是那是一个维多利亚区的号码。您知道，我根本没留意。”
“她上床前，吃过什么吗？或者喝过什么吗？”
“像往常一样，喝了一杯热牛奶，先生。”
“谁煮的。”
“悬我煮的，先生。”
“昨天晚上没有人来过套房吗？”
“没人，先生。”
“那么在白天呢？”
“就我所记得的，没人来过，先生。亚当斯小姐出去吃午饭，喝茶。她是六点钟回来的。”
“牛奶是什么时候送来的？她昨天晚上喝的牛奶。”
“她喝的是新送的。先生。那天下午送的。送奶的人四点钟时放在门口的。但是。唉！先生，我敢肯定奶是不会有问题的。今天早晨我还喝了用它冲的奶茶。医生很肯定地说是她自己吃了那致命的安眠药。”
“可能我错了，”波洛说道，“是的，可能是我完全锗了。我要见见医生。但是，你要明白，亚当斯小姐是有仇人的。在美国情形可不一样——”
“噢！我知道的，先生。我读过关于芝加哥和枪手之类的东西。那一定是一个邪恶的国家，那里的警察能怎么办呢？我无法想象。不会像我们的警察。”
波洛很感激地停止了问话，他知道艾丽斯。贝内特的狭隘的岛国居民心理。他也不必再费口舌给她解释了。
他一眼看到椅子上的一个小提箱——或者说更像一个小型公文包。
“昨晚亚当斯小姐出去时。带着这个包吗？”
“先生，上午她带过。但下午吃茶回来时没带。而夜里回来时又带回来了。”
“啊！你能让我打开它吗？”
事实他要做什么，丽斯。贝内特都会允许的。就像所有小心、多疑的女人一样，一旦打消了疑虑，就会像孩子一样容易被操纵。她会同意波洛的一切建议。
那皮包没有上锁，洛打开了它。我走过去，着他的肩看里面究竟有什么。
“你看，斯廷斯，看到了吗？”他低声激动地说道。
里面的东西很有意思。
有一包化妆品。有两件东西，认得是鞋垫，来放到鞋里，人拔高一两英寸，有一副灰手套，及用薄纸包好的一副精致的金色假发套，是简•威尔金森的金发色。也像简的头发一样，中间分开，后有许多发鬈。
“黑斯廷斯，在你还怀疑吗？”波洛问。
我知道在那之前，一直是怀疑的。但以后，不再怀疑了。
波洛再次把皮包关上，走向女仆。
“你知道昨晚亚当斯小姐和谁共进晚餐吗？”
“不知道，先生。”
“你知道，她与谁吃的午饭和喝下午茶吗？”
“先生，关于下午茶，我一点也不知道。先生，我想她午饭是与德赖弗小姐吃的。”
“德赖弗小姐？”
“是的，她的密友。她在莫法特大街开了一个帽店，在邦德街旁边。店名叫吉纳维夫。”
波洛在本上记下地址。就记在医生的下面。
“还有一件事，女士。你还记得亚当斯小姐在六点钟回来的时候说过或做过什么事情——任何事情——使你觉得与往日不同，或有些特别的吗？”
那位女仆想了一会。
“先生，我真是说不出什么了。”她最后说道，“我问她是否要茶。她说她已经喝过一些了。”
“唤。她说她喝过了。”波洛打断道，“对不起，请你接着说。”
“然后她就写信，一直写到出去的时候。”
“写信？呃？你知不知道是写给谁？”
“是的，先生。是写给她在华盛顿的妹妹的。她通常是一周给她妹妹写两封信。她将信带出去寄以赶上邮班。但她忘了。”
“那么信仍然在这里吗？”
“不，先生。我把它寄了。她昨天在上床睡觉前记起来，我说我会出去寄的。再贴一张邮票，放入邮筒里，就可以寄出的。”
“啊——邮局远吗？”
“不，先生。邮局就在街道拐弯处。”
“你是不是随手把门关上了？”
贝内特不解地盯着他。
“没有，先生。我只是虚掩着——我出去寄信时总是这样的。”
波洛好像要说什么，但又忍住没说。
“先生，您要看看她吗？”那位女仆含着眼泪问道，“看看她有多么美丽。”
我们和她走入卧室。
卡洛塔•亚当斯看起来出奇地平和，比那天在萨伏依饭店看到的她更年轻。她好像一个熟睡的疲倦的孩子。
波洛低头望着她的时候，脸上有一种奇怪的表情。我看到他在胸前画十字。
“我发誓，黑斯廷斯。”我们下楼的时侯他说道。
我没有问他发什么誓，但我能猜到。
一两分钟以后，他说：
“现在至少有一件事已经弄清了。我是不可能救她的。当我听说埃奇韦尔男爵的死讯时，她己经死了。这还让我安一点心，是的，我感到心中平静多了。”
Chapter 10 Jenny Driver詹尼·德赖弗
Chapter 10 Jenny Driver
Our next proceeding was to call upon the doctor whose address the maid had given us.
He turned out to be a fussy elderly man somewhat vague in manner. He knew Poirot by repute and expressed a lively pleasure at meeting him in the flesh.
‘And what can I do for you, M. Poirot?’ he asked after this opening preamble.
‘You were called this morning, M. le docteur, to the bedside of a Miss Carlotta Adams.’
‘Ah! yes, poor girl. Clever actress too. I’ve been twice to her show. A thousand pities it’s ended this way. Why these girls must have drugs I can’t think.’
‘You think she was addicted to drugs, then?’
‘Well, professionally, I should hardly have said so. At all events she didn’t take them hypodermically. No marks of the needle. Evidently always took it by the mouth. Maid said she slept well naturally, but then maids never know. I don’t suppose she took veronal every night, but she’d evidently taken it for some time.’
‘What makes you think so?’
‘This, dash it - where did I put the thing?’
He was peering into a small case.
‘Ah! here it is.’
He drew out a small black morocco handbag.
‘There’s got to be an inquest, of course. I brought this away so that the maid shouldn’t meddle with it.’
Opening the pochette he took out a small gold box. On it were the initials C.A. in rubies. It was a valuable and expensive trinket. The doctor opened it. It was nearly full of a white powder.
‘Veronal,’ he explained briefly. ‘Now look what’s written inside.’
On the inside of the lid of the box was engraved:
C.A. from D. Paris, Nov. 10th. Sweet Dreams.
‘November 10th,’ said Poirot thoughtfully.
‘Exactly, and we’re now in June. That seems to show that she’s been in the habit of taking the stuff for at least six months, and as the year isn’t given, it might be eighteen months or two years and a half - or any time.’
‘Paris. D,’ said Poirot, frowning.
‘Yes. Convey anything to you? By the way, I haven’t asked you what your interest is in the case. I’m assuming you’ve got good grounds. I suppose you want to know if it’s suicide? Well, I can’t tell you. Nobody can. According to the maid’s account she was perfectly cheerful yesterday. That looks like accident, and in my opinion accident it is. Veronal’s very uncertain stuff. You can take a devil of a lot and it won’t kill you, and you can take very little and off you go. It’s a dangerous drug for that reason.
‘I’ve no doubt they’ll bring it in Accidental Death at the inquest. I’m afraid I can’t be of any more help to you.’
‘May I examine the little bag of Mademoiselle?’
‘Certainly. Certainly.’
Poirot turned out the contents of the pochette. There was a fine handkerchief with C.M.A. in the corner, a powder puff, a lipstick, a pound note and a little change, and a pair of pince-nez.
These last Poirot examined with interest. They were gold-rimmed and rather severe and academic in type.
‘Curious,’ said Poirot. ‘I did not know that Miss Adams wore glasses. But perhaps they are for reading?’
The doctor picked them up.
‘No, these are outdoor glasses,’ he affirmed. ‘Pretty powerful too. The person who wore these must have been very short-sighted.’
‘You do not know if Miss Adams -’
‘I never attended her before. I was called in once to see a poisoned finger of the maid’s. Otherwise I have never been in the flat. Miss Adams whom I saw for a moment on that occasion was certainly not wearing glasses then.’
Poirot thanked the doctor and we took our leave.
Poirot wore a puzzled expression.
‘It can be that I am mistaken,’ he admitted.
‘About the impersonation?’
‘No, no. That seems to me proved. No, I mean as to her death. Obviously she had veronal in her possession. It is possible that she was tired and strung up last night and determined to ensure herself a good night’s rest.’
Then he suddenly stopped dead - to the great surprise of the passers-by - and beat one hand emphatically on the other.
‘No, no, no, no!’ he declared emphatically. ‘Why should that accident happen so conveniently? It was no accident. It was not suicide. No, she played her part and in doing so she signed her death warrant. Veronal may have been chosen simply because it was known that she occasionally took it and that she had that box in her possession. But, if so, the murderer must have been someone who knew her well. Who is D, Hastings? I would give a good deal to know who D was.’
‘Poirot,’ I said, as he remained rapt in thought. ‘Hadn’t we better go on? Everyone is staring at us.’
‘Eh? Well, perhaps you are right. Though it does not incommode me that people should stare. It does not interfere in the least with my train of thought.’
‘People were beginning to laugh,’ I murmured.
‘That has no importance.’
I did not quite agree. I have a horror of doing anything conspicuous. The only thing that affects Poirot is the possibility of the damp or the heat affecting the set of his famous moustache.
‘We will take a taxi,’ said Poirot, waving his stick.
One drew up by us, and Poirot directed it to go Genevieve in Moffat Street.
Genevieve turned out to be one of those establishments where one nondescript hat and a scarf display themselves in a glass box downstairs and where the real centre of operations is one floor up a flight of musty-smelling stairs.
Having climbed the stairs we came to a door with ‘Genevieve. Please Walk In’ on it, and having obeyed this command we found ourselves in a small room full of hats while an imposing blonde creature came forward with a suspicious glance at Poirot.
‘Miss Driver?’ asked Poirot.
‘I do not know if Modom can see you. What is your business, please?’
‘Please tell Miss Driver that a friend of Miss Adams would like to see her.’
The blonde beauty had no need to go on this errand. A black velvet curtain was violently agitated and a small vivacious creature with flaming red hair emerged.
‘What’s that?’ she demanded.
‘Are you Miss Driver?’
‘Yes. What’s that about Carlotta?’
‘You have heard the sad news?’
‘What sad news?’
‘Miss Adams died in her sleep last night. An overdose of veronal.’
The girl’s eyes opened wide.
‘How awful!’ she exclaimed. ‘Poor Carlotta. I can hardly believe it. Why, she was full of life yesterday.’
‘Nevertheless it is true, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot. ‘Now see - it is just on one o’clock. I want you to do me the honour of coming out to lunch with me and my friend. I want to ask you several questions.’
The girl looked him up and down. She was a pugilistic little creature. She reminded me in some ways of a fox terrier.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded bluntly.
‘My name is Hercule Poirot. This is my friend Captain Hastings.’
I bowed.
Her glance travelled from one to the other of us.
‘I’ve heard of you,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’ll come.’
She called to the blonde:
‘Dorothy?’
‘Yes, Jenny.’
‘Mrs Lester’s coming in about that Rose Descartes model we’re making for her. Try the different feathers. Bye-bye, shan’t be long, I expect.’
She picked up a small black hat, affixed it to one ear, powdered her nose furiously, and then looked at Poirot.
‘Ready,’ she said abruptly.
Five minutes afterwards we were sitting in a small restaurant in Dover Street. Poirot had given an order to the waiter and cocktails were in front of us.
‘Now,’ said Jenny Driver. ‘I want to know the meaning of all this. What has Carlotta been getting herself mixed up in?’
‘She had been getting herself mixed up in something, then, Mademoiselle?’
‘Now then, who is going to ask the questions, you or me?’
‘My idea was that I should,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘I have been given to understand that you and Miss Adams were great friends.’
‘Right.’
‘Eh bien, then I ask you, Mademoiselle, to accept my solemn assurance that what I do, I am doing in the interests of your dead friend. I assure you that that is so.’
There was a moment’s silence while Jenny Driver considered this question. Finally she gave a quick assenting nod of the head.
‘I believe you. Carry on. What do you want to know?’
‘I understand, Mademoiselle, that your friend lunched with you yesterday.’
‘She did.’
‘Did she tell you what her plans were for last night?’
‘She didn’t exactly mention last night.’
‘But she said something?’
‘Well, she mentioned something that maybe is what you’re driving at. Mind you, she spoke in confidence.’
‘That is understood.’
‘Well, let me see now. I think I’d better explain things in my own words.’
‘If you please, Mademoiselle.’
‘Well, then, Carlotta was excited. She isn’t often excited. She’s not that kind. She wouldn’t tell me anything definite, said she’d promised not to, but she’d got something on. Something I gathered, in the nature of a gigantic hoax.’
‘A hoax?’
‘That’s what she said. She didn’t say how or when or where. Only -’ She paused, frowning. ‘Well - you see - Carlotta’s not the kind of person who enjoys practical jokes or hoaxes or things of that kind. She’s one of those serious, nice-minded, hard-working girls. What I mean is, somebody had obviously put her up to this stunt. And I think - she didn’t say so, mind -’
‘No, no, I quite understand. What was it that you thought?’
‘I thought - I was sure - that in some way money was concerned. Nothing really ever excited Carlotta except money. She was made that way. She’d got one of the best heads for business I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t have been so excited and so pleased unless money - quite a lot of money - had been concerned. My impression was that she’d taken on something for a bet - and that she was pretty sure of winning. And yet that isn’t quite true. I mean, Carlotta didn’t bet. I’ve never known her make a bet. But anyway, somehow or other, I’m sure money was concerned.’
‘She did not actually say so?’
‘N-no-o. Just said that she’d be able to do this, that and the other in the near future. She was going to get her sister over from America to meet her in Paris. She was crazy about her little sister. Very delicate, I believe, and musical. Well that’s all I know. Is that what you want?’
Poirot nodded his head.
‘Yes. It confirms my theory. I had hoped, I admit, for more. I had anticipated that Miss Adams would have been bound to secrecy. But I hoped that, being a woman, she would not have counted revealing the secret to her best friend.’
‘I tried to make her tell me,’ admitted Jenny. ‘But she only laughed and said she’d tell me about it some day.’
Poirot was silent for a moment. Then he said:
‘You know the name of Lord Edgware?’
‘What? The man who was murdered? On a poster half an hour ago.’
‘Yes. Do you know if Miss Adams was acquainted with him?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m sure she wasn’t. Oh! wait a minute.’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’ said Poirot eagerly.
‘What was it now?’ She frowned, knitting her brow as she tried to remember.
‘Yes, I’ve got it now. She mentioned him once. Very bitterly.’
‘Bitterly?’
‘Yes. She said - what was it? - that men like that shouldn’t be allowed to ruin other people’s lives by their cruelty and lack of understanding. She said - why, so she did - that he was the kind of man whose death would probably be a good thing for everybody.’
‘When was it she said this, Mademoiselle?’
‘Oh! about a month ago, I think it was.’
‘How did the subject come up?’
Jenny Driver racked her brains for some minutes and finally shook her head.
‘I can’t remember,’ she confessed. ‘His name cropped up or something. It might have been in the newspaper. Anyway, I remember thinking it odd that Carlotta should be so vehement all of a sudden when she didn’t even know the man.’
‘Certainly it is odd,’ agreed Poirot thoughtfully. Then he asked:
‘Do you know if Miss Adams was in the habit of taking veronal?’
‘Not that I knew. I never saw her take it or mention taking it.’
‘Did you ever see in her bag a small gold box with the initials C.A. on it in rubies?’
‘A small gold box - no. I am sure I didn’t.’
‘Do you happen to know where Miss Adams was last November?’
‘Let me see. She went back to the States in November, I think - towards the end of the month. Before that she was in Paris.’
‘Alone?’
‘Alone, of course! Sorry - perhaps you didn’t mean that! I don’t know why any mention of Paris always suggests the worst. And it’s such a nice respectable place really. But Carlotta wasn’t the week-ending sort, if that’s what you’re driving at.’
‘Now, Mademoiselle, I am going to ask you a very important question. Was there any man Miss Adams was specially interested in?’
‘The answer to that is “No,” ’ said Jenny slowly. ‘Carlotta, since I’ve known her, has been wrapped up in her work and in her delicate sister. She’s had the “head of the family all depends on me” attitude very strongly. So the answer’s NO - strictly speaking.’
‘Ah! and not speaking so strictly?’
‘I shouldn’t wonder if - lately - Carlotta hadn’t been getting interested in some man.’
‘Ah!’
‘Mind you, that’s entirely guesswork on my part. I’ve gone simply by her manner. She’s been - different - not exactly dreamy, but abstracted. And she’s looked different, somehow. Oh! I can’t explain. It’s the sort of thing that another woman just feels - and, of course, may be quite wrong about.’
Poirot nodded.
‘Thank you, Mademoiselle. One thing more. Is there any friend of Miss Adams whose initial is D?’
‘D,’ said Jenny Driver thoughtfully. ‘D? No, I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone.’

第十章 詹尼•德赖弗
我们下一步就是按女仆给我们的地址去拜访那位医生。
原来他是一位很爱小题大作的上年纪的老人。态度上模棱两可的。他久仰波洛大名，现在见到他本人，大有无上荣幸之感。
“波洛先生，那么我能为您做点什么呢？”开场白后他这样问道。
“今天早上，大夫您被叫去给卡洛塔•亚当斯看病。”
“啊！是的，那可怜的女孩也是一个聪明的女演员。我看过她的两次表演。这样的结局真是遗憾。真是可惜。我真不明白为什么这些女孩要服药。”
“您认为她有服麻醉剂的习惯吗？”
“从职业角度上讲，我不该这么说。不论怎么说，她没通过皮下注射方式吸毒。没有针眼的痕迹。很明显，她是口服的。女仆说她睡得很好，很正常。但她不知道什么。我想她不会每晚都服佛罗那的。但是很明显，她一定服用一段时期了。”
“您为什么这样想？”
“因为这个。怎么搞的——我把东西放在哪里了？”
他在一个小箱里寻找。
“啊！在这儿呢！”
他取出一个小小的、黑色的摩洛哥羊皮手袋。
“当然要有调查的。我把这个拿开，怕女仆乱动它。”
他把手袋打开，拿出一个小小的金匣子，上面用红宝石镶着姓名的首位字母Ｃ•Ａ“这是一个很昂贯的装饰品。医生把匣盖打开，里面装满白色粉末。
“佛罗那。”他简洁地解释道，“现在再看看里面写着什么字。”
在匣盖里面刻着这样一些字。
Ｃ•Ａ一—留念，Ｄ敬赠。巴黎十一月十日。甜梦。
“十一月十日。”波洛若有所思地说。
“一点不错。现在是六月。这似乎说明她服这种药至少六个月了。况且，没有说年代，也可能是十八个月或两年半，时间长短可没准头。”
“巴黎，Ｄ。”波洛皱眉说道。
“是的。您觉得这有什么含意吗？说起这个，我倒要问问您。您对这案子兴趣何在？我猜您是有很好的理由的。您是不是想知道她是否是自杀？这个，我不敢说。没人能肯定。按女仆的说法，她昨天还是兴高采烈的。那好像是由意外致死的。我想是这么个意外事故。佛罗那是一种很难把握用量的药物。你要是吃了好多，也许不会死去，而只吃一点反倒会要了命。因为这个缘故，这是一种很危险的药物。
“我敢肯定，他们调查的时候，会认定这是意外死亡的。在这一方面我恐怕不能帮您什么。”
“我可以看看亚当斯小姐的手袋吗？”
“当然可以。当然可以。”
波洛将手袋里的东西倒了出来。里面有一块很精细的手帕，角上绣着Ｃ•M•Ａ•，还有一个粉扑，一支唇膏，一张一英镑的钞票，一些零钱和一副夹鼻眼镜。
波洛对最后这件东西很感兴趣。这副眼镜是金边的，戴起来有一种学者派头。
“奇怪了。”波洛说道，“我不知道亚当斯小姐戴眼镜的。大概只有看书时才用。”
医生把眼镜拿了起来。
“不是。这是外出用的眼镜。”他肯定地说，“度数很高的。戴这副眼镜的人一定是非常近视的。”
“您知不知道亚当斯小姐——”
“我以前没给她看过病。我曾经去给她的女仆看过一次中毒的手指。否则我不可能去过她那套房子的。那一次我看到的亚当斯小姐并未戴眼镜。”
波洛先生向医生道谢之后，我们便起身告辞了。
波洛满脸迷惑不解的表情。
“我可能猜错了。”他承认迫。
“是关于假扮简的那事吗？”
“不是的。不是的。那一点我己经证实了。我是说她的死亡。现在很明显，她自己有佛罗那。昨天晚上，很有可能她精疲力尽了，所以才吃了这药”备好好睡上一觉。”
他突然停了下来，一动不动地立在那。令路人极为惊讶。然后他两手用力一击。
“不，不，不。不！”他用力地说，“为什么这件意外事故发生得这么容易？这根本不是意外事故，不是自杀。不，她扮演了一个角色，结果为自己签了死亡证书。之所以选佛罗那，是因为有人知道她偶尔服用此药，而且手头上有这东西。不过如果是这样的话，凶手一定是和她很熟悉的人。黑斯廷斯。准是那个。Ｄ，呢？我无沦如何要查出来，谁是叼，。”
“波洛，”我看到他仍然沉浸在思考中，便对他说，“我们还是向前走吧。路人在看我们呢。”
“呢？好吧。也许你是对的。虽然他们在盯着我，但这并不妨碍我。他们根本没有妨碍我的思绪。”
我小声地说道：“人家都快要笑你了。”
“这并不重要。”
我不太同意。我最讨厌做出惹人注目的事。不过惟一让波洛担心的是空气中的热度或是湿度会影响他那著名的小胡子。
“我们叫一辆出租车吧。”波洛挥动他的手杖，向经过的车子示意。
一辆车停住了，波洛便吩咐司机开到莫法特街的吉纳维夫帽店。
有些商店只在楼下的玻璃橱窗里摆一顶难以形容的帽子和披肩，要走上一层霉味很重的楼梯，上面一层才是真正的营业中心。吉纳维夫帽店就属于这类帽店。
我们上了楼梯，看见一扇门上写着“吉纳维夫。请由此入”的字样。我们按照这一指示走了进去，原来是一间小屋子，里面全是帽子。一位身材高大、金发碧眼的漂亮女子走了过来，她有些疑惑地望着波洛。
“是德赖弗小姐吗？”
“我不知道老板娘现在能不能见您。请问您有何贵干？”
“请告诉德赖弗小姐，亚当斯小姐的一位朋友想见她。”
其实那位金发碧眼的女子根本不用去干这差事了，因为黑色的丝绒帘子猛然掀了起来，里面走出了一位身材娇小、红头发、非常活泼的女士。
“怎么了？”她问道。
“您是德赖弗小姐吗？”
“是的。卡洛塔怎么了？”
“您已经听说了那不幸的消息了？”
“什么不幸的消息？”
“亚当斯小姐昨夜睡下就再也未醒。她服了过量的安眠药。”
女孩的眼睛瞪得大大的。
“真可怕！”她叫道，“可伶的卡洛塔！我简直无法相信，怎么？昨天她还是活蹦乱跳的呢。”
“可是。小姐，这是真的。”波洛说道，“您看，现在刚刚是一点钟。我想请您赏光同我，以及我的朋友一块去吃午饭。我想问您一些问题。”
那位女士上上下下打量了他一番。她是一位颇不好惹
的女人。在某些方面我觉得她像一条狼狗。
“您是谁？”她突然地问道。
“我叫波洛，赫尔克里•波洛。这位是我朋友，黑斯廷斯上尉。”
我向她鞠躬致意。
她的眼光由我们一个人身上转到另一个人身上。
“我听说过您的名宇。”她毫不客气地说，“我去。”
她叫那位金发碧眼的女士。
“多洛希！”
“什么事，詹妮！”
“莱斯特太太要来看她定做的那顶罗斯。笛卡尔型的帽子，你让她试试各种羽毛，看看哪种好。再见。我想我不会去太久的。”
她拿起一顶黑色小帽子，侧戴在头上，匆匆扑点粉，然后望着波洛。
她很快地说：“好了。”
五分钟以后，我们便在多佛街的一个小餐馆里坐定了。波洛已经向侍者点了菜。我们面前已经摆上了鸡尾酒。
“现在，”詹尼。德赖弗说道，“我想知道这到底是怎么回事。卡洛塔闯了什么祸？”
“那么，女士，她闯了什么祸了？”
“现在是谁提问题？是您？还是我？”
波洛笑着说：“我的想法是我来问。听说您和亚当斯小姐是要好的朋友？”
“是的。”
“好吧，那么女士，我可以郑重地向您保证。我现在所做的一切都是为了您死去的朋友。请您相信我，事实是这样。”
詹尼。德赖弗沉默片刻，考虑这个问题。最后她迅速地点头同意。
“我相信您。说吧。您想知道什么？”
“女士，听说您与您的朋友昨天一起去吃午饭了？”
“是的。”
“她有没有对您说晚上打算做什么？”
“她并未确切地说是昨夭晚上。”
“但她说过什么话。是吗？”
“呃，她提到一件事，也许是您想打听的事。不过，您得注意，这是她秘密地告诉我的。”
“这个我明白。”
“好吧。让我想想。我想我还是对您说个明白吧。”
“女士，请说吧。”
“好吧。卡洛塔很兴奋。她井不是常常会这样兴奋的。她不是那种人。她不愿意肯定地告诉我，她说她答应过不泄露秘密的。但是，她要做件事。根据我的推测，这事是很大的捉弄人的把戏。”
“捉弄人的把戏？”
“这是她所说的。她并没有说什么时候，在哪。只是——”她顿了一下，皱了皱眉，“晤，您要明白，卡洛塔不是那种喜欢戏弄人，开玩笑的那类人。她是一个认真的、心眼好、工作勤恳的女子。我的意思是。分明有人鼓动她去显示自己的本事。但是我认为——她并没有这样说。注意——”
“是的，是的，我明白。您怎样认为呢？”
“我认为——我很确信——这里面有金钱的关系。除了钱以外，没有什么能真让卡洛塔激动兴奋的。她天性如此。在我所认识的人中。她是最有生意头脑的。除非因为钱——一笔数目相当大的钱——她是不会那样兴奋的，也不会那么得意。我的感觉是她在打什么赌——而她确信她会赢。我从未见过她与别人打赌。但不管怎么说，我确信和钱有关系。”
“她确实并未这样说过吗？”
“没有。她只是说她将来要如何如何。她要把她妹妹从美国接来，到巴黎与她会面。她对她的妹妹爱得不得了。她的妹妹好像很弱。我想，还很有音乐天赋。我所知道的就这些。这些是您想要知道的吗？”
波洛点点头。
“是的，我想这可以证实我的想法。但是我承认。我希望您能多告诉我一些。我预料亚当斯小姐一定要严守秘密的。但是我希望。她既然是个女人，也许会把自己的秘密告诉她的好朋友。”
“我试图让她告诉我，”德赖弗小姐承认道，“但她只是笑着对我说，总有一天她会告诉我的。”
波洛沉默片刻，接着说
“您听说过埃奇韦尔男爵这个名字吗？”
“什么？那个被谋杀的人？半个小时前，我在一张招贴上看到了。”
“是的。您知道亚当斯小姐认识他吗？”
“我想不认识。我肯定她不认识。噢！等等。”
“怎么了？女士？”波洛急切地间道。
“是什么来着？”她眉头紧锁，竭力地回忆着，“啊！我想起来了。她曾经提过他一次。很怨恨地。”
“很怨恨地？”
“是的。她说一说什么来着？她说像他那样的男人不应该那么残酷。那样缺乏谅解。把别人的一生都毁了。她说——啊，是的，她这样说过——她说：‘像这样的男人，要是死了，也许对人人都有好处。’”
“女士”什么时候说的这话？”
“唤！我想大约是一个月之前。”
“她怎么说起这一话题的？”
德赖弗小姐绞尽脑汁想了几分钟，来还是摇了摇头。
“我不记得了，她说道，好像是他的名字突然出现。可能是在报纸上。不过我还记得自己觉得奇怪，洛塔根本不认识那个人怎么提起他来那样激动呢？”
“的确很奇怪。”波洛若有所思地说。随后。他又问：“您知道亚当斯小姐有服用佛罗那的习惯吗？”
“据我所知没有。我从未见过她吃这种药，也没听她提起过。”
“您有没有看到过她手袋里有个小金匣子，里面用宝石镶着Ｃ•Ａ的字样？”
“一个小金匣子——没有。我肯定没见过。”
“那么，您也许知道去年十一月亚当斯小姐在哪里？”
“让我想想。她在十一月回了芙国，我想一是在月末。在那之前她在巴黎。”
“一个人吗？”
“当然是一个人！对不起一也许您并未有那种意思。我不知道为什么一提起巴黎，人们就往顶坏的事上去想。其实那是一个很好、很高尚的地方。不过，卡洛塔并不是那种喜欢周末找乐的人，您要是有那种想法可就错了。”
“女士，现在我要问您一个很重要的问题。亚当斯小姐是否对某个男人有特别的兴趣？”
“答案是‘没有’。”詹尼慢条斯理地说。“从我认识卡洛塔的时候起，她总是忙忙碌碌地工作，惦念自己的娇弱的小妹。她有一种很强烈的。家人全指望我，的想法。所以严格地讲。答案是‘没有’。”
“啊！可以不严格地说呢？”
“近来。卡洛塔恐怕是逐渐对什么男人发生兴趣了。”
“啊！”
“您要注意，这是我自己的推测。我只是由她的态度判断得出的。她近来——有些异样——并非做梦似的，她看起来有点异样。噢！我没法解释清楚。这只是另一个女人的感觉——当然可能完全是错误的。”
波洛点点头。
“女士，非常感谢您。还有——个问题，亚当斯小姐有没有一个名字以‘Ｄ’起头的朋友？”
“Ｄ。”詹尼。德赖弗想想说。“Ｄ？没有。对不起。我想不起有这么个人。”
Chapter 11 The Egoist自我主义者
Chapter 11 The Egoist
I do not think Poirot had expected any other answer to his question. All the same he shook his head sadly. He remained lost in thought. Jenny Driver leant forward, her elbows on the table.
‘And now,’ she said, ‘am I going to be told anything?’
‘Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot. ‘First of all let me compliment you. Your answers to my questions have been singularly intelligent. Clearly you have brains, Made-moiselle. You ask whether I am going to tell you anything. I answer - not very much. I will tell you just a few bare facts, Mademoiselle.’
He paused, and then said quietly:
‘Last night Lord Edgware was murdered in his library. At ten o’clock yesterday evening a lady whom I believe to have been your friend Miss Adams came to the house, asked to see Lord Edgware, and announced herself as Lady Edgware. She wore a golden wig and was made up to resemble the real Lady Edgware who, as you probably know, is Miss Jane Wilkinson, the actress. Miss Adams (if it were she) only remained a few moments. She left the house at five minutes past ten but she did not return home till after midnight. She went to bed, having taken an overdose of veronal. Now, Mademoiselle, you see the point, perhaps, of some of the questions I have been asking you.’
Jenny drew a deep breath.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I see now. I believe you’re right, M. Poirot. Right about its having been Carlotta, I mean. For one thing, she bought a new hat off me yesterday.’
‘A new hat?’
‘Yes. She said she wanted one to shade the left side of her face.’
There I must insert a few words of explanation as I do not know when these words will be read. I have seen many fashions of hats in my time - the cloche that shaded the face so completely that one gave up in despair the task of recognizing one’s friends. The tilted forward hat, the hat attached airily to the back of the head, the beret, and many other styles. In this particular June the hat of the moment was shaped like an inverted soup plate and was worn attached (as if by suction) over one ear, leaving the other side of the face and hair open to inspection.
‘These hats are usually worn on the right side of the head?’ asked Poirot.
The little modiste nodded.
‘But we keep a few to be worn on the opposite side,’ she explained. ‘Because there are people who much prefer their right profile to the left or who have a habit of parting the hair on one side only. Now, would there be any special reason for Carlotta’s wanting that side of her face to be in shadow?’
I remembered that the door of the house in Regent Gate opened to the left, so that anyone entering would be in full view of the butler that side. I remembered also that Jane Wilkinson (so I had noticed the other night) had a tiny mole at the corner of the left eye.
I said as much excitedly. Poirot agreed, nodding his head vigorously.
‘It is so. It is so. Vous avez parfaitement raison, Hastings. Yes, that explains the purchase of the hat.’
‘M. Poirot?’ Jenny sat suddenly bolt upright. ‘You don’t think - you don’t for one moment think - that Carlotta did it? Kill him, I mean. You can’t think that? Not just because she spoke so bitterly about him.’
‘I do not think so. But it is curious, all the same - that she should have spoken so, I mean. I would like to know the reason for it. What had he done - what did she know of him to make her speak in such a fashion?’
‘I don’t know - but she didn’t kill him. She’s - oh! she was - well - too refined.’
Poirot nodded approvingly.
‘Yes, yes. You put that very well. It is a point psychological. I agree. This was a scientific crime - but not a refined one.’
‘Scientific?’
‘The murderer knew exactly where to strike so as to reach the vital nerve centres at the base of the skull where it joins the cord.’
‘Looks like a doctor,’ said Jenny thoughtfully.
‘Did Miss Adams know any doctors? I mean, was any particular doctor a friend of hers?’
Jenny shook her head.
‘Never heard of one. Not over here, anyway.’
‘Another question. Did Miss Adams wear pincenez?’
‘Glasses? Never.’
‘Ah!’ Poirot frowned.
A vision rose in my mind. A doctor, smelling of carbolic, with short-sighted eyes magnified by powerful lenses. Absurd!
‘By the way, did Miss Adams know Bryan Martin, the film actor?’
‘Why, yes. She used to know him as a child, she told me. I don’t think she saw much of him, though. Just once in a while. She told me she thought he’d got very swollen-headed.’
She looked at her watch and uttered an exclamation.
‘Goodness, I must fly. Have I helped you at all, M. Poirot?’
‘You have. I shall ask you for further help by and by.’
‘It’s yours. Someone staged this devilry. We’ve got to find out who it is.’
She gave us a quick shake of the hand, flashed her white teeth in a sudden smile and left us with characteristic abruptness.
‘An interesting personality,’ said Poirot as he paid the bill.
‘I like her,’ I said.
‘It is always a pleasure to meet a quick mind.’
‘A little hard, perhaps,’ I reflected. ‘The shock of her friend’s death did not upset her as much as I should have thought it would have done.’
‘She is not the sort that weeps, certainly,’ agreed Poirot dryly.
‘Did you get what you hoped from the interview?’
He shook his head.
‘No - I hoped - very much I hoped - to get a clue to the personality of D, the person who gave her the little gold box. There I have failed. Unfortunately Carlotta Adams was a reserved girl. She was not one to gossip about her friends or her possible love affairs. On the other hand, the person who suggested the hoax may not have been a friend at all. It may have been a mere acquaintance who proposed it - doubtless for some “sporting” reason - on a money basis. This person may have seen the gold box she carried about with her and made some opportunity to discover what it contained.’
‘But how on earth did they get her to take it? And when?’
‘Well, there was the time during which the flat door was open - when the maid was out posting a letter. Not that that satisfies me. It leaves too much to chance. But now - to work. We have still two possible clues.’
‘Which are?’
‘The first is the telephone call to a Victoria number. It seems to me quite a probability that Carlotta Adams would ring up on her return to announce her success. On the other hand, where was she between five minutes past ten and midnight? She may have had an appointment with the instigator of the hoax. In that case the telephone call may have been merely one to a friend.’
‘What is the second clue?’
‘Ah! that I do have hopes of. The letter, Hastings. The letter to her sister. It is possible - I only say possible - that in that she may have described the whole business. She would not regard it as a breach of faith, since the letter would not be read till a week later and in another country at that.’
‘Amazing, if that is so!’
‘We must not build too much upon it, Hastings. It is a chance, that is all. No, we must work now from the other end.’
‘What do you call the other end?’
‘A careful study of those who profit in any degree by Lord Edgware’s death.’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘Apart from his nephew and his wife -’
‘And the man the wife wanted to marry,’ added Poirot.
‘The Duke? He is in Paris.’
‘Quite so. But you cannot deny that he is an interested party. Then there are the people in the house - the butler - the servants. Who knows what grudges they may have had? But I think myself our first point of attack should be a further interview with Mademoiselle Jane Wilkinson. She is shrewd. She may be able to suggest something.’
Once more we made our way to the Savoy. We found the lady surrounded by boxes and tissue paper, whilst exquisite black draperies were strewn over the back of every chair. Jane had a rapt and serious expression and was just trying on yet another small black hat before the glass.
‘Why, M. Poirot. Sit down. That is, if there’s anything to sit on. Ellis, clear something, will you?’
‘Madame. You look charming.’
Jane looked serious.
‘I don’t want exactly to play the hypocrite, M. Poirot. But one must observe appearances, don’t you think? I mean, I think I ought to be careful. Oh! by the way, I’ve had the sweetest telegram from the Duke.’
‘From Paris?’
‘Yes, from Paris. Guarded, of course, and supposed to be condolences, but put so that I can read between the lines.’
‘My felicitations, Madame.’
‘M. Poirot.’ She clasped her hands, her husky voice dropped. She looked like an angel about to give vent to thoughts of exquisite holiness. ‘I’ve been thinking. It all seems so miraculous, if you know what I mean. Here I am - all my troubles over. No tiresome business of divorce. No bothers. Just my path cleared and all plain sailing. It makes me feel almost religious - if you know what I mean.’
I held my breath. Poirot looked at her, his head a little on one side. She was quite serious.
‘That is how it strikes you, Madame, eh?’
‘Things happen right for me,’ said Jane in a sort of awed whisper. ‘I’ve thought and I’ve thought lately - if Edgware was to die. And there - he’s dead! It’s - it’s almost like an answer to prayer.’
Poirot cleared his throat.
‘I cannot say I look at it quite like that, Madame. Somebody killed your husband.’
She nodded.
‘Why, of course.’
‘Has it not occurred to you to wonder who that someone was?’
She stared at him. ‘Does it matter? I mean - what’s that to do with it? The Duke and I can be married in about four or five months . . .’
With difficulty Poirot controlled himself.
‘Yes, Madame, I know that. But apart from that has it not occurred to you to ask yourself who killed your husband?’
‘No.’ She seemed quite surprised by the idea. We could see her thinking about it.
‘Does it not interest you to know?’ asked Poirot.
‘Not very much, I’m afraid,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose the police will find out. They’re very clever, aren’t they?’
‘So it is said. I, too, am going to make it my business to find out.’
‘Are you? How funny.’
‘Why funny?’
‘Well, I don’t know.’ Her eyes strayed back to the clothes. She slipped on a satin coat and studied herself in the glass.
‘You do not object, eh?’ said Poirot, his eyes twinkling.
‘Why, of course not, M. Poirot. I should just love you to be clever about it all. I wish you every success.’
‘Madame - I want your more than wishes. I want your opinion.’
‘Opinion?’ said Jane absently, as she twisted her head over her shoulder. ‘What on?’
‘Who do you think likely to have killed Lord Edgware?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I haven’t any idea!’
She wriggled her shoulders experimentally and took up the hand-glass.
‘Madame!’ said Poirot in a loud, emphatic voice. ‘Who DO you THINK KILLED YOUR HUSBAND?’
This time it got through. Jane threw him a startled glance. ‘Geraldine, I expect,’ she said.
‘Who is Geraldine?’
But Jane’s attention was gone again.
‘Ellis, take this up a little on the right shoulder. So. What, M. Poirot? Geraldine’s his daughter. No Ellis, the right shoulder. That’s better. Oh! must you go, M. Poirot? I’m terribly grateful for everything. I mean, for the divorce, even though it isn’t necessary after all. I shall always think you were wonderful.’
I only saw Jane Wilkinson twice again. Once on the stage, once when I sat opposite her at a luncheon party. I always think of her as I saw her then, absorbed heart and soul in clothes, her lips carelessly throwing out the words that were to influence Poirot’s further actions, her mind concentrated firmly and beautifully on herself.
‘Epatant,’ said Poirot with reverence as we emerged into the Strand.

第十一章 自我主义者
我以为波洛早已料到这样的回答。但是他却失望地摇摇头，又陷入沉思之中。德赖弗小姐两肘抵着桌子，两手托腮，身体前倾过来。
“现在，”她说道，“您是不是要告诉我点什么？”
“女士，”波洛说，“首先让我向您致敬。您的答复非常理智。很显然，您是一位有头脑的人。您问我是否要告诉您些什么？我可以回答您——可以奉告的并不多。女士，我只能告诉您一些明显的事实。”
他停顿了一下，然后冷静地说。
“昨天夜里埃奇韦尔男爵在书房里被人杀害。昨天夜里十点钟的时候，有一位女人到男爵府上，自称是埃奇韦尔夫人。要见男爵。我认为这位女士是您的朋友亚当斯小姐。她戴着金黄色假发，装扮成埃奇韦尔夫人的样子。埃奇韦尔夫人，您可能知道，就是女演员简•威尔金森。假定那个人就是亚当斯小姐，她只在那里呆了片刻，在十点过五分的时候离开了那幢房子。但是她午夜以后才回到家里，服了过量的佛罗那以后便上床睡觉了。现在，女士，您也许可以了解我为什么问您那些问题了。”
詹尼深深地吸了口气。
“是的，”她说道，“我现在明白了。我想您是对的，波洛先生。我是说关于那人就是卡洛塔的猜想。有一件事可以证明，她昨天从我店里买走了一顶新帽子。”
“一顶新帽子？”
“是的，她说要买一顶能遮住左脸的。”
写到这里，我要插入一点说明，因为，不知道我所写的这些话什么时候有人读。我一生中看过多种帽子——比如，有一种钟形的帽子。能把人的脸完全遮住，让你不必担心被你的朋友认出来，有的帽子檐向前倾，有的优美地戴到脑袋后面。有的是扁圆形的贝雷帽，还有好多其它式样。在这年的六月份，最时髦的帽子好像一个倒置的汤盆，戴的时候，遮住一只耳朵，那就好像有什么力吸到头上似的。那么另一面和头发就露在外面了。
“这类帽子通常是戴在右边的啊。”波洛说。
那位小老板娘点点头。
“但是我们也有少数几顶戴在左边的。”她这样加以解释道。“因为有的人喜欢让人看她的右半部侧面，也有人只喜欢将头发分到一边。那么，卡洛塔想将左边那侧遮起来有什么特殊的原因吗？”
我记起男爵的摄政门府郧门是向左开的，这样，任何人进去，管家只能看到他左侧的险。我还记得（这是那天晚上注意到的）简•威尔金森左眼角上有一颗小小的痣。我很兴奋地将自己的想法说了出来。波洛用力地点着头，表示深有同感。
“是这样的。是这样的。你有很好的判断能力，黑斯廷斯，是的，这就说明她为什么要买这样的帽子了。”
“波洛先生？”詹尼突然坐直了身体，“您不会以为一是卡洛塔干的吧？我是说杀害他。您可不能那样想。不能仅仅因为她说过怨恨他的话，就那样想。”
“我井没有这样想。但是我仍然觉得奇怪一我是说。她怎么这么说。我想知道愿因。他做了什么——她了解了他的什么才使她这样说的？”
“我不知道——但是她不会杀他。她——噢！她是——呃——很高尚的。”
波洛赞同地点着头。
“是的。是的。您说得很对。我同意，这是心理上的问题。这是一个很职业的杀人案——但是手段并不高明。”
“职业的？”
“凶手的刀子刺入部位很准确，头盖骨底部和背髓相联接处，正是致命的神经中枢。他知道从哪里下手正中要害。”
“看样子是医生干的。”德赖弗小姐若有所思地说。
“亚当斯小姐认识什么医生吗？我是说她有什么特殊的医生朋友？”
德赖弗小姐摇摇头。
“没听说过。不论怎么说，在这儿是没有。”
“另外还有一个问题，亚当斯小姐戴夹鼻眼镜吗？”
“眼镜？不戴呀！”
“啊！”波洛皱着眉。
这时候，我脑海里浮现出一个影像。一个浑身石碳酸昧的医生，近视眼。戴着高度数的眼镜。这种想法真可笑！
“顺便问您一下，亚当斯小姐认识布赖恩•马丁吗？那个电影演员。”
“啊！认识的。她对我说，她从小就认识他。不过我想他们并不经常见面，只是偶尔地见见。她对我说，他那个人很自负。”
她看了看表，立刻叫道。
“天哪！我得走了。波洛先生，我说的对您有用吗？”
“很有用。以后我还要请您帮忙的。”
“好的。既然有人设下这样恶毒的计谋。我们要查出来他究竟是谁。”
她匆匆忙忙与我们握手，嫣然一笑，露出洁白的牙齿，带着那种特有的直率的态度离开了我们。
“真是一个有趣的人！”波洛付账的时候说。
“我喜欢她。”我说。
“认识一位思维敏捷的人是件开心的事。”
“也许。心肠有点硬。”我想了想说，“她听到好朋友去世，并不像我想象的那样难过。”
“她不是那种人，当然了。”波洛不动声色地赞同道。
“这次会面”了解了你想知道的吗？”
他摇了摇头。
“没有。我本来希望——找到一点那个Ｄ的线索，那个送她金匣子的人。但我没找到。可惜，卡洛塔•亚当斯是一位谨慎的女子。关于她的朋友和可能的爱情方面，她从不乱讲。从另一方面讲，那个建议戏弄别人的人，也许并非她的朋友。可能只是偶尔认识而已一不用说，建议的动机是捉弄人——用钱来作基础。这个人也许看见过她随身携带的那个金匣子，有机会看到里面有什么东西。”
“但是，他们究竟是怎样使她吃那药的呢？是在什么时间？”
“晤。那个女仆出去寄信的时候，大门是开着的。但是这一解释并不令我满意。因为意外的事情太多。但是现在——我看还是开始干吧。我们还有两个线索。”
“是什么？”
“第一个线索是打到维多利亚区的电话号码。我认为很可能是卡洛塔•亚当斯回家以后要打电话报告她的成功，另一方面，在十点过五分到午夜的那段时间，她在哪里，魍也许和那个阴谋设计者有约定。如果是那样，那个电话可只是打给一个朋友而已。”
“那么第二条线索呢？”
“啊！我对这一线索抱很大希望。那封信，黑斯廷斯，
封给她妹妹的信。很可能——我是说很可能——她在那信里描述了整件事情。因为那封信要在一周以后，被邮到另一个国家才被人读到、她不会认为这是违背约定。”
“要能这样真是太好了。”
“我们不能抱太大希望，黑斯廷斯。只不过是碰运气而已。是的，我们必须从事情的另一端着手。”
“你所说的另一端是什么？”
“仔细研究一下，埃奇韦尔男爵死后，有谁会从中得到各种好处？”
我耸耸肩膀。
“除了他的侄儿和太太以外——”
“还有他太太想另嫁的人。”波洛补充道。
“公爵？他在巴黎啊。”
“不错。但是你不能否定，他也是一个有关系的人。还有男爵府里的人——管家——仆人。谁知道他们对男爵有什么怨恨？但是，我个人认为，我们首先要做的事是与简•威尔金森女士谈一谈。她很精明的。也许她能说点什么。”
我们又一次来到萨伏依饭店。我们看到这位女士周围都是纸盒和包装纸，每个椅背上都挂着精致的黑色衣饰。简脸上带着全神贯注——一本正经的表情，正在试衣镜前试戴另一顶黑色帽子。
“啊！波洛先生，请坐。当然，如果还有地方可坐的话。埃利斯。清理一下东西好吗？”
“女士，您看起来很迷人。”
简的表情很严肃。
“波洛先生。我并不想假装什么。但您知道，一个人要注意仪表。我是说我得谨慎些。噢！顺便告诉您，我接到了公爵发来的很亲切的电报。”
“从巴黎打来的？”
“是的，是从巴黎来的。当然措词很小心，表面上是唁电，不过从他的字里行间，我可以感到他的亲切。”
“女士。我向您致贺。”
“波洛先生，”她拍了拍手，放低了她那沙哑的嗓音，那样子就像一位天使要吐露圣洁的心意一样，“我一直都在想，这一切是这样奇妙。您知道我的意思。现在我的一切麻，烦都没了。也没有那个讨厌的离婚难题了。再也没有麻烦了。我的路上己经毫无障碍，一切顺利了。这样一来，我几乎成了一个虔诚的好人了，您明白我的意思的。”
我屏住呼吸。波洛侧着头望着她。她的样子很肃穆。
“女士，您就是这样想的，呃？”
“事情发生得对我有利。”简悚然地低声说，“我近来常常想，埃奇韦尔死了就好了。然后——他就死了。这——这简直像在应验我的祷告。”
波洛清了清嗓子。
“女士。我可不像您那样看这件事。有人杀害了您的丈夫。”
她点点头。一
“是啊。那又怎么了？”
“您没想过，这个人会是谁吗？”
她瞪着眼睛望着他。“那有什么关系？我是说——有什么关系呢？反正公爵和我再过四五个月就可以结婚了。”“
波洛极力控制住自己的情绪。
“是的，女士，这个我知道。但除了这个以外，您就没想想是谁杀了您的丈夫？”
“没有。”她似乎对这个想法很惊讶，我们可以看出她在想。
“您不感兴趣，想知道吗？”波洛问道。
“不太感兴趣。我得承认。”她承认道，“我想警方会查个水落石出的。他们很聪明，不是吗？”
“人们是这样说。同时我本人也要将此案查个明白。”
“您？真滑稽！”
“为什么滑稽？”
“呢，我不知道。”这时候，她的眼光又回到衣服上。她披上一件缎子上衣，对着镜子仔细端详。
“您不反对吧？呃？”波洛眨着眼睛问道。
“啊！当然不反对，波洛先生。我喜欢您机智地查这件案子。我希望您成功。”
“女士——我不仅仅希望得到您的祝愿，还希望听听您的见解。”
“见解？”简心不在焉地扭动着头，“关于什么呢？”
“您认为谁会杀埃奇韦尔男爵？”
简摇头说；“我不知道。”
她试着扭动着肩膀，从各个角度看衣服合不合适，还拿着一把带手柄的小镜从背面看。
“女士，”波洛大声用力地说道，“您以为是谁杀害了您的丈夫？”
这一次她回过神来，向波洛投去吃惊的目光。“我想。是杰拉尔丁吧。”她说道。
“杰拉尔丁是谁？”
但简又走神了。
“埃利斯，把右肩上的衣服替我往上拉拉；波洛先生，您说什么来着？杰拉尔丁是他的女儿。不是，埃利斯，是右肩。好多了。噢！波洛先生，您要走么？我真是要感谢您。我是指离婚的事。现在虽然不需要了，但我还是要感谢您。我永远会记得您有多么好！”
我在那以后只见过简•威尔金森两次。一次是在舞台上。一次是午宴中坐她对面。我一见到她就想起她当时的样子。全神贯注地试衣服，嘴里漫不经心地说几句话，惹得波洛还要再问”她自己则美美地注意自己。
“真了不起！”我们走到滨河大街上时，洛这样说道。
Chapter 12 The Daughter女儿
Chapter 12 The Daughter
There was a letter sent by hand lying on the table when we got back to our rooms. Poirot picked it up, slit it open with his usual neatness, and then laughed.
‘What is it you say - “Talk of the devil”? See here, Hastings.’
I took the note from him.
The paper was stamped 17 Regent Gate and was written in very upright characteristic handwriting which looked easy to read and, curiously enough, was not.
‘Dear Sir (it ran),
I hear you were at the house this morning with the inspector. I am sorry not to have had the opportunity of speaking to you. If convenient to yourself I should be much obliged if you could spare me a few minutes any time this afternoon.
Yours truly,
Geraldine Marsh.’
‘Curious,’ I said. ‘I wonder why she wants to see you?’
‘Is it curious that she should want to see me? You are not polite, my friend.’
Poirot has the most irritating habit of joking at the wrong moment.
‘We will go round at once, my friend,’ he said, and lovingly brushing an imagined speck of dust from his hat, he put it on his head.
Jane Wilkinson’s careless suggestion that Geraldine might have killed her father seemed to me particularly absurd. Only a particularly brainless person could have suggested it. I said as much to Poirot.
‘Brains. Brains. What do we really mean by the term? In your idiom you would say that Jane Wilkinson has the brains of a rabbit. That is a term of disparagement. But consider the rabbit for a moment. He exists and multiplies, does he not? That, in Nature, is a sign of mental superiority. The lovely Lady Edgware she does not know history, or geography, nor the classics sans doute. The name of Lao Tse would suggest to her a prize Pekingese dog, the name of Molière a maison de couture. But when it comes to choosing clothes, to making rich and advantageous marriages, and to getting her own way - her success is phenomenal. The opinion of a philosopher as to who murdered Lord Edgware would be no good to me - the motive for murder from a philosopher’s point of view would be the greatest good of the greatest number, and as that is difficult to decide, few philosophers are murderers. But a careless opinion from Lady Edgware might be useful to me because her point of view would be materialistic and based on a knowledge of the worst side of human nature.’
‘Perhaps there’s something in that,’ I conceded.
‘Nous voici,’ said Poirot. ‘I am curious to know why the young lady wishes so urgently to see me.’
‘It is a natural desire,’ I said, getting my own back. ‘You said so a quarter of an hour ago. The natural desire to see something unique at close quarters.’
‘Perhaps it is you, my friend, who make an impression on her heart the other day,’ replied Poirot as he rang the bell.
I recalled the startled face of the girl who had stood in the doorway. I could still see those burning dark eyes in the white face. That momentary glimpse had made a great impression on me.
We were shown upstairs to a big drawing-room and in a minute or two Geraldine Marsh came to us there.
The impression of intensity which I had noticed before was heightened on this occasion. This tall, thin, white-faced girl with her big haunting black eyes was a striking figure.
She was extremely composed - in view of her youth, remarkably so.
‘It is very good of you to come so promptly, M. Poirot,’ she said. ‘I am sorry to have missed you this morning.’
‘You were lying down?’
‘Yes. Miss Carroll - my father’s secretary, you know - insisted. She has been very kind.’
There was a queer grudging note in the girl’s voice that puzzled me.
‘In what way can I be of service to you, Mademoiselle?’ asked Poirot.
She hesitated a minute and then said:
‘On the day before my father was killed you came to see him?’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle.’
‘Why? Did he - send for you?’
Poirot did not reply for a moment. He seemed to be deliberating. I believe, now, that it was a cleverly calculated move on his part. He wanted to goad her into further speech. She was, he realized, of the impatient type. She wanted things in a hurry.
‘Was he afraid of something? Tell me. Tell me. I must know. Who was he afraid of ? Why? What did he say to you? Oh! why can’t you speak?’
I had thought that that forced composure was not natural. It had soon broken down. She was leaning forward now, her hands twisting themselves nervously on her lap.
‘What passed between Lord Edgware and myself was in confidence,’ said Poirot slowly.
His eyes never left her face.
‘Then it was about - I mean, it must have been something to do with - the family. Oh! you sit there and torture me. Why won’t you tell me? It’s necessary for me to know. It’s necessary. I tell you.’
Again, very slowly, Poirot shook his head, apparently a prey to deep perplexity.
‘M. Poirot.’ She drew herself up. ‘I’m his daughter. It is my right to know - what my father dreaded on the last day but one of his life. It isn’t fair to leave me in the dark. It isn’t fair to him - not to tell me.’
‘Were you so devoted to your father, then, Made-moiselle?’ asked Poirot gently.
She drew back as though stung.
‘Fond of him?’ she whispered. ‘Fond of him. I - I -’
And suddenly her self-control snapped. Peals of laughter broke from her. She lay back in her chair and laughed and laughed.
‘It’s so funny,’ she gasped. ‘It’s so funny - to be asked that.’
That hysterical laughter had not passed unheard. The door opened and Miss Carroll came in. She was firm and efficient.
‘Now, now, Geraldine, my dear, that won’t do. No, no. Hush, now. I insist. No. Stop it. I mean it. Stop it at once.’
Her determined manner had its effect. Geraldine’s laughter grew fainter. She wiped her eyes and sat up.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’ve never done that before.’
Miss Carroll was still looking at her anxiously.
‘I’m all right now, Miss Carroll. It was idiotic.’
She smiled suddenly. A queer bitter smile that twisted her lips. She sat up very straight in her chair and looked at no one.
‘He asked me,’ she said in a cold clear voice, ‘if I had been very fond of my father.’
Miss Carroll made a sort of indeterminate cluck. It denoted irresolution on her part. Geraldine went on, her voice high and scornful.
‘I wonder if it is better to tell lies or the truth? The truth, I think. I wasn’t fond of my father. I hated him!’
‘Geraldine dear.’
‘Why pretend? You didn’t hate him because he couldn’t touch you! You were one of the few people in the world that he couldn’t get at. You saw him as the employer who paid you so much a year. His rages and his queerness didn’t interest you - you ignored them. I know what you’d say, “Everyone has got to put up with something.” You were cheerful and uninterested. You’re a very strong woman. You’re not really human. But then you could have walked out of the house any minute. I couldn’t. I belonged.’
‘Really, Geraldine, I don’t think it’s necessary going into all this. Fathers and daughters often don’t get on. But the less said in life the better, I’ve found.’
Geraldine turned her back on her. She addressed herself to Poirot.
‘M. Poirot, I hated my father! I am glad he is dead! It means freedom for me - freedom and independence. I am not in the least anxious to find his murderer. For all we know the person who killed him may have had reasons - ample reasons - justifying that action.’
Poirot looked at her thoughtfully.
‘That is a dangerous principle to adopt, Mademoiselle.’
‘Will hanging someone else bring father back to life?’
‘No,’ said Poirot dryly. ‘But it may save other innocent people from being murdered.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘A person who has once killed, Mademoiselle, nearly always kills again - sometimes again and again.’
‘I don’t believe it. Not - not a real person.’
‘You mean - not a homicidal maniac? But yes, it is true. One life is removed - perhaps after a terrific struggle with the murderer’s conscience. Then - danger threatens - the second murder is morally easier. At the slightest threatening of suspicion a third follows. And little by little an artistic pride arises - it is a métier - to kill. It is done at last almost for pleasure.’
The girl had hidden her face in her hands.
‘Horrible. Horrible. It isn’t true.’
‘And supposing I told you that it had already hap - pened ? That already - to save himself - the murderer has killed a second time?’
‘What’s that, M. Poirot?’ cried Miss Carroll. ‘Another murder? Where? Who?’
Poirot gently shook his head.
‘It was an illustration only. I ask pardon.’
‘Oh! I see. For a moment I really thought - Now, Geraldine, if you’ve finished talking arrant nonsense.’
‘You are on my side, I see,’ said Poirot with a little bow.
‘I don’t believe in capital punishment,’ said Miss Carroll briskly. ‘Otherwise I am certainly on your side. Society must be protected.’
Geraldine got up. She smoothed back her hair.
‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I am afraid I have been making rather a fool of myself. You still refuse to tell me why my father called you in?’
‘Called him?’ said Miss Carroll in lively astonishment.
‘You misunderstand, Miss Marsh. I have not refused to tell you.’
Poirot was forced to come out into the open.
‘I was only considering how far that interview might have been said to be confidential. Your father did not call me in. I sought an interview with him on behalf of a client. That client was Lady Edgware.’
‘Oh! I see.’
An extraordinary expression came over the girl’s face. I thought at first it was disappointment. Then I saw it was relief.
‘I have been very foolish,’ she said slowly. ‘I thought my father had perhaps thought himself menaced by some danger. It was stupid.’
‘You know, M. Poirot, you gave me quite a turn just now,’ said Miss Carroll, ‘when you suggested that woman had done a second murder.’
Poirot did not answer her. He spoke to the girl.
‘Do you believe Lady Edgware committed the murder, Mademoiselle?’
She shook her head.
‘No, I don’t. I can’t see her doing a thing like that. She’s much too - well, artificial.’
‘I don’t see who else can have done it,’ said Miss Carroll. ‘And I don’t think women of that kind have got any moral sense.’
‘It needn’t have been her,’ argued Geraldine. ‘She may have come here and just had an interview with him and gone away, and the real murderer may have been some lunatic who got in afterwards.’
‘All murderers are mentally deficient - of that I am assured,’ said Miss Carroll. ‘Internal gland secretion.’
At that moment the door opened and a man came in - then stopped awkwardly.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know anyone was in here.’
Geraldine made a mechanical introduction.
‘My cousin, Lord Edgware. M. Poirot. It’s all right, Ronald. You’re not interrupting.’
‘Sure, Dina? How do you do, M. Poirot? Are your grey cells functioning over our particular family mystery?’
I cast my mind back trying to remember. That round, pleasant, vacuous face, the eyes with slight pouches underneath them, the little moustache marooned like an island in the middle of the expanse of face.
Of course! It was Carlotta Adams’ escort on the night of the supper party in Jane Wilkinson’s suite.
Captain Ronald Marsh. Now Lord Edgware.

第十二章 女儿
我们回到自己的住所后，现桌上有一封信。波洛拿起信来，例整齐地将信剪开，后晗哈大笑起来。
“你猜是什么——说曹操曹操就到了。黑斯廷斯，看这个。”
我从他手中接过信笺。
信上印着“摄政门l7号”的字样。信上的字体直直的，看似很容易读下来，而实际并不好读。
信文如下。
尊敬的先生：
我听说您今早与警督来舍下。很遗憾，我没有机会与您谈话。加果您方便的话，请在今天下午任何时候光临寒含，不胜感激。
杰拉尔丁。马什敬上
“奇怪了。”我说道，“我不知道她为什么要见你。”
“你觉得她要见我就很奇怪吗？你可不够礼貌啊，我的朋友。”
波洛总是专找不是时候的时候开玩笑。
“我们马上就去，我的朋友。”他说着，小心翼翼地用手拂去帽上根本不存在的灰尘，然后将帽子戴在头上。
简曾漫不经心地说杰拉尔丁也许会杀害她的父亲，我觉得这一想法很荒谬。只有特别没头脑的人才会这么说。我对波洛说出自己的想法。
“头脑。头脑。我们又该怎样理解这个词呢？用你的话说，简也许是兔子脑袋，这是一种轻视的含义。但想想兔子这种动物。它不断生殖、繁衍，不是吗？这在自然界是一种精神优越的标志。可爱的埃奇韦尔夫人并不懂历史、地理或是任何古典作晶。说老子，她可能会以为是一只获奖的小狮子狗。说莫里哀，她会以为是女士服装店。但说起挑选衣服，嫁大款，发大财，自行其事——她的成功是显然的。若是我从一个哲学家的角度，推断杀人凶手，那将是无益的。因为从哲人的角度，杀人动机是为了大多数人的利益。但这也是很难断定的，因为皙人去当杀人凶手的还真不多。埃奇韦尔夫人无意说出的想法也许对我们有用，因为她的出发点是物质的，根据对人类最丑恶一面的认识而产生的。”
“也许其中确实有道理。”我也承认道。
“这正是我们需要的，”波洛说道，“现在我很想知道，为什么这位小姐急于想见我？”
“这是一个很自然的愿望。”我也找到了自己的根据，说道，“你刚才还说过，想在近处看特别的东西是很自然的愿望。”
“我的朋友，大概是你那天给她留下了很深的印象吧。”波洛说着，按响了门铃。
我想起了那一天她站在房门口那一副受惊的面孔，我还仍然记得那苍白的面孔上一双炯炯有神的黑眼睛。那瞬间的一瞥给我留下很深的印象。
我们被让进褛上一间大客厅，过了不久，杰拉尔丁。马什来了。
我上次见到的那种紧张的神情似乎更加重了。这个修长、面色苍白的女子，加之那双大大的令人难忘的黑眼睛，很引人注目。
“波洛先生，您能马上就来真是太好了。”她说道，“很抱歉。今天早晨我未能见您。”
“您正在休息吗？”
“是的。卡罗尔小姐——我父亲的秘书，您认识的——坚持让我休息。她对我非常好。”
那女孩说话时带有一种奇怪的勉强的味道，令我觉得迷惑不解。
“小姐，我可以在哪些方面为您效劳呢？”
她犹豫了一下，接着说
“先父被杀之前，您曾见过他？”
“是的，小姐。”
“为什么呢？是他——叫您来的？”
波洛没有立刻回答。他好像在考虑什么。我相倍那是他聪明的算计。他是想让她接着说。他意识到，她属于急性子。她想立即知道自己想知道的东西。
“他是害怕什么吗？告诉我。告诉我。我一定要知道。他怕谁？为什么？他对您说了些什么？唉！您为什么不说话呢？”
我早就觉得她那种强作镇定的态度不自然了，很快就崩溃了。她身子向前弯着，双手在膝前不停地扭动。
波洛慢吞吞地说：“我和埃奇韦尔男爵之间的事是秘密的。”
他的眼睛一直盯着她的脸。
“那么，必定是关于——我是说，一定是关于——我们家庭的问题了。喋！您坐在那儿折磨着我。您为什么不告诉我呢？我有必要知道的。有必要的，这点您清楚。”
波洛再一次慢慢地摇摇头，显得为难和困惑。
“波洛先生，”她突然振作起来，“我是他的女儿。我有权利知道——我父亲死的前一天究竟在怕什么？让我蒙在鼓里是不公平的。不告诉我——对他也不公平。”
“那么，您很爱您的父亲了，小姐？”波洛温和地间道。
她像被刺了一洋往后一缩。
“很爱他？”她小声地重复着，“深爱着他。我——我——”
突然她的自制力崩溃了，哈哈大笑起来。她仰到椅子上笑个不停。
“真是好笑，”她喘着气说，“这真是好笑，竟有人问我这个。”
她那种歇斯底里的笑声并非无人听见。门开了，卡罗尔小姐走了进来。她的样子很坚定、干练。
“好了，好了，杰拉尔丁。亲爱的，那样是不合适的。别，别，嘘，我一定不能让你这样了。别，别笑了。我是说真格的，立刻停止再笑。”
她那坚定的态度果然有效。杰拉尔丁的笑声小多了。她揩了揩眼睛。坐了起来。
“对不起，”她低低的声音说，“我以前从未这样过。”
卡罗尔小姐仍然焦虑地望着她。
“我现在好了，卡罗尔小姐。这真是傻透了。”
她的嘴角带着一种奇怪的苦笑，直直地坐在椅子上，谁也不看。
“他问我，”她冷冷地、用清晰的语调说道。“我是不是爱我的父亲。”
“我不知道是该撒谎，还是该说实话。我想该说实话。我不爱我的父亲。我恨他！”
“亲爱的杰拉尔丁。”
“为什么要装呢？你不恨他，因为他不惹你！你是世上少数的那几个他不惹的人。你只把他当作雇主来看，他和你的关系只是一年付你一些钱而已。无论他怎样发脾气，怎么古怪。你都可以不感兴趣——因为你不注意这些。我知道你怎么说。‘每个人都该容忍些事情。’你是乐观但无动于衷的，你是一个很坚强的女人。其实你有些不通人情。而且你可以随时离开这个地方。我却不能，我属于这个家。”
“真的，杰拉尔丁。我认为没有必要提这些。父女往往很难相处。不过我发现生活中说得越少越好。”
，拉尔丁背过身来，理她，波洛说。
“波洛先生，恨我的父亲，在他死了，才高兴呢！我可以自由了——自由、独立。我们都知道那个杀死他的人必定有充分的理由——充分的理由——证明那事做得对。”
波洛若有所思地望着她。
“小姐，要采用那种原则是很危险的。”
“绞死一个人就能让我父亲起死回生吗？”
“不能，”波洛淡淡地说，“但是可以免除其他无辜的人被害死。”
“我不明白。”
“小姐，一个人杀过人，就会再杀人——有时——杀再杀。”
“我不相信。不会的——一个真正的人不会这样的。”
“您是说——不是一个杀人狂吗？但是，会的。事实上是真的。现在巳杀了一个人——干那事前他也许会经过激烈的思想斗争。但是——危险存在着——再杀个人也许容易多了。杀第三个人，可能只是稍微对危险有些疑心。于是逐渐地，杀人成了一种能带来艺术自豪感的东西——一种，专门技能。最后杀人几乎成了乐事。”
女孩用两手掩住面孔。
“可怕。可怕。这不会是真的。”
“如果我告诉您这种事又发生了呢？已经——为了保存自我——那个杀人犯又一次杀人了。”
“什么？波洛先生？”卡罗尔喊道，“又杀人了？在哪儿？是谁？”
波洛温和地摇了摇头。
“这只是举例而已。请原谅。”
“噢！我明白了。刚才我还以为真是呢——现在，杰拉尔丁，你那套无聊的话说完了吧？”
“我可以看出，您是站在我这一边的。”波洛说着，向她鞠了一个躬。
“我不主张死刑。”卡罗尔小姐轻快地说，“要不然的话，我一定站在您这一边。社会得有人保护啊。”
杰拉尔丁站了起来，用手理了理头发。
“对不起，”她说，“我想刚才的样子很傻。您还不想告诉我。为什么我父亲叫您来的？”
“叫他？”卡罗尔小姐根惊讶地说。
“您误会了，马什小姐。我不是不肯告诉您。”
波洛不得不打开天窗说亮话了。
“我只是在想，那次谈话本来是秘密的。您父亲并没叫我来。我是代表一个人来找他会面的。那位当事人就是埃奇韦尔夫人。”
“噢！我明白了。”
那女孩脸上露出一种特殊的神情。起初我以为那是失望，而后发现那是一种宽慰的表情。
“我真是很傻。”她慢慢地说。“我以为父亲大概顶感到自己有危险。我真傻。”
“波洛先生，要知道您刚才真吓了我一跳，”卡罗尔小姐说，“当您说到那女人又杀了一个人。”
波洛没理她，对女孩说；
“小姐，您认为埃奇韦尔夫人会杀人吗？”
她摇摇头。
“不。我认为不会。我不明白她为何要那样做。她很——晤，太虚张声势了。”
“我看不出还有谁会这么干，”卡罗尔小姐说，“我认为她那种女人毫无道德感。”
“不一定是她，”杰拉尔丁争辩道，“她也许只是来这见了他就走了，真正的凶手是过后进来的精神病人。”
“所有的杀人犯都是神经不健全的人——对于这一点我是绝对相信的。”卡罗尔小姐说，“是内分泌作用。”
这时门开了，走进来一个人，很窘地站在那儿。
“对不起，”他说道，“我不知道这儿有人。”
杰拉尔丁机械地给我们互相介绍。
“这是我堂兄，埃奇韦尔男爵。这是波洛先生。好了，罗纳德，你并没有妨碍我们。”
“真的吗？戴娜？您好，波洛先生。您是不是在为我们这个特殊的家庭秘密动脑筋呢？”
我竭力回忆往事。那张愉快而空虚的圆面孔，眼睛下面轻微的水泡，还有那一小撮胡子像汪洋大海中的一个孤岛。
不错！正是那天晚上与筒。威尔金森在套房用晚餐的人。
罗纳德。马什上尉。现在是埃奇韦尔男爵。
Chapter 13 The Nephew侄儿
Chapter 13 The Nephew
The new Lord Edgware’s eye was a quick one. He noticed the slight start I gave.
‘Ah! you’ve got it,’ he said amiably. ‘Aunt Jane’s little supper party. Just a shade bottled, wasn’t I? But I fancied it passed quite unperceived.’
Poirot was saying goodbye to Geraldine Marsh and Miss Carroll.
‘I’ll come down with you,’ said Ronald genially.
He led the way down the stairs, talking as he went.
‘Rum thing - life. Kicked out one day, lord of the manor the next. My late unlamented uncle kicked me out, you know, three years ago. But I expect you know all about that, M. Poirot?’
‘I had heard the fact mentioned - yes,’ replied Poirot composedly.
‘Naturally. A thing of that kind is sure to be dug up. The earnest sleuth can’t afford to miss it.’
He grinned.
Then he threw open the dining-room door.
‘Have a spot before you go.’
Poirot refused. So did I. But the young man mixed himself a drink and continued to talk.
‘Here’s to murder,’ he said cheerfully. ‘In the space of one short night I am converted from the credit-or’s despair to the tradesman’s hope. Yesterday ruin stared me in the face, today all is affluence. God bless Aunt Jane.’
He drained his glass. Then, with a slight change of manner, he spoke to Poirot.
‘Seriously, though, M. Poirot, what are you doing here? Four days ago Aunt Jane was dramatically declaiming, “Who will rid me of this insolent tyrant?” and lo and behold she is ridded! Not by your agency, I hope? The perfect crime, by Hercule Poirot, ex-sleuth hound.’
Poirot smiled.
‘I am here this afternoon in answer to a note from Miss Geraldine Marsh.’
‘A discreet answer, eh? No, M. Poirot, what are you really doing here? For some reason or other you are interesting yourself in my uncle’s death.’
‘I am always interested in murder, Lord Edgware.’
‘But you don’t commit it. Very cautious. You should teach Aunt Jane caution. Caution and a shade more camouflage. You’ll excuse me calling her Aunt Jane. It amuses me. Did you see her blank face when I did it the other night? Hadn’t the foggiest notion who I was.’
‘En verité?’
‘No. I was kicked out of here three months before she came along.’
The fatuous expression of good nature on his face failed for a moment. Then he went on lightly:
‘Beautiful woman. But no subtlety. Methods are rather crude, eh?’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘It is possible.’
Ronald looked at him curiously.
‘I believe you think she didn’t do it. So she’s got round you too, has she?’
‘I have a great admiration for beauty,’ said Poirot evenly. ‘But also for - evidence.’
He brought the last word out very quietly.
‘Evidence?’ said the other sharply.
‘Perhaps you do not know, Lord Edgware, that Lady Edgware was at a party at Chiswick last night at the time she was supposed to have been seen here.’
Ronald swore.
‘So she went after all! How like a woman! At six o’clock she was throwing her weight about, declaring that nothing on earth would make her go, and I suppose about ten minutes after she’d changed her mind! When planning a murder never depend upon a woman doing what she says she’ll do. That’s how the best-laid plans of murder gang agley. No, M. Poirot, I’m not incriminating myself. Oh, yes, don’t think I can’t read what’s passing through your mind. Who is the Natural Suspect? The well-known Wicked Ne’er-do-Weel Nephew.’
He leaned back in his chair chuckling.
‘I’m saving your little grey cells for you, M. Poirot. No need for you to hunt round for someone who saw me in the offing when Aunt Jane was declaring she never, never, never would go out that night, etc. I was there. So you ask yourself did the wicked nephew in very truth come here last night disguised in a fair wig and a Paris hat?’
Seemingly enjoying the situation, he surveyed us both. Poirot, his head a little on one side, was regarding him with close attention. I felt rather uncomfortable.
‘I had a motive - oh! yes, motive admitted. And I’m going to give you a present of a very valuable and significant piece of information. I called to see my uncle yesterday morning. Why? To ask for money. Yes, lick your lips over that. To ASK FOR MONEY. And I went away without getting any. And that same evening - that very same evening - Lord Edgware dies. Good title that, by the way. Lord Edgware Dies. Look well on a bookstall.’
He paused. Still Poirot said nothing.
‘I’m really flattered by your attention, M. Poirot. Captain Hastings looks as though he had seen a ghost - or were going to see one any minute. Don’t get so strung up, my dear fellow. Wait for the anti-climax. Well, where were we? Oh! yes, case against the Wicked Nephew. Guilt is to be thrown on the hated Aunt by Marriage. Nephew, celebrated at one time for acting female parts, does his supreme histrionic effort. In a girlish voice he announces himself as Lady Edgware and sidles past the butler with mincing steps. No suspicions are aroused. “Jane,” cries my fond uncle. “George,” I squeak. I fling my arms about his neck and neatly insert the penknife. The next details are purely medical and can be omitted. Exit the spurious lady. And so to bed at the end of a good day’s work.’
He laughed, and rising, poured himself out another whisky and soda. He returned slowly to his chair.
‘Works out well, doesn’t it? But you see, here comes the crux of the matter. The disappointment! The annoying sensation of having been led up the garden. For now, M. Poirot, we come to the alibi!’
He finished off his glass.
‘I always find alibis very enjoyable,’ he remarked. ‘Whenever I happen to be reading a detective story I sit up and take notice when the alibi comes along. This is a remarkably good alibi. Three strong, and Jewish at that. In plainer language, Mr, Mrs and Miss Dortheimer. Extremely rich and extremely musical. They have a box in Covent Garden. Into that box they invite young men with prospects. I, M. Poirot, am a young man with prospects - as good a one, shall we say, as they can hope to get. Do I like the opera? Frankly, no. But I enjoy the excellent dinner in Grosvenor Square first, and I also enjoy an excellent supper somewhere else afterwards, even if I do have to dance with Rachel Dortheimer and have a stiff arm for two days afterwards. So you see, M. Poirot, there you are. When uncle’s lifeblood is flowing, I am whispering cheerful nothings into the diamond encrusted ears of the fair (I beg her pardon, dark) Rachel in a box at Covent Garden. Her long Jewish nose is quivering with emotion. And so you see, M. Poirot, why I can afford to be so frank.’
He leaned back in his chair.
‘I hope I have not bored you. Any question to ask?’
‘I can assure you that I have not been bored,’ said Poirot. ‘Since you are so kind, there is one little question that I would like to ask.’
‘Delighted.’
‘How long, Lord Edgware, have you known Miss Carlotta Adams?’
Whatever the young man had expected, it certainly had not been this. He sat up sharply with an entirely new expression on his face.
‘Why on earth do you want to know that? What’s that got to do with what we’ve been talking about?’
‘I was curious, that was all. For the other, you have explained so fully everything there is to explain that there is no need for me to ask questions.’
Ronald shot a quick glance at him. It was almost as though he did not care for Poirot’s amiable acquiescence. He would, I thought, have preferred him to be more suspicious.
‘Carlotta Adams? Let me see. About a year. A little more. I got to know her last year when she gave her first show.’
‘You knew her well?’
‘Pretty well. She’s not the sort of girl you ever got to know frightfully well. Reserved and all that.’
‘But you liked her?’
Ronald stared at him.
‘I wish I knew why you were so interested in the lady. Was it because I was with her the other night? Yes, I like her very much. She’s sympathetic - listens to a chap and makes him feel he’s something of a fellow after all.’
Poirot nodded.
‘I comprehend. Then you will be sorry.’
‘Sorry? What about?’
‘That she is dead!’
‘What?’ Ronald sprang up in astonishment. ‘Carlotta dead?’
He looked absolutely dumbfounded by the news.
‘You’re pulling my leg, M. Poirot. Carlotta was perfectly well the last time I saw her.’
‘When was that?’ asked Poirot quickly.
‘Day before yesterday, I think. I can’t remember.’
‘Tout de même, she is dead.’
‘It must have been frightfully sudden. What was it? A street accident?’
Poirot looked at the ceiling.
‘No. She took an overdose of veronal.’
‘Oh! I say. Poor kid. How frightfully sad.’
‘N’est ce pas?’
‘I am sorry. And she was getting on so well. She was going to get her kid sister over and had all sorts of plans. Dash it. I’m more sorry than I can say.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot. ‘It is sad to die when you are young - when you do not want to die - when all life is open before you and you have everything to live for.’
Ronald looked at him curiously. ‘I don’t think I quite get you, M. Poirot.’
‘No?’
Poirot rose and held out his hand.
‘I express my thoughts - a little strongly, perhaps. For I do not like to see youth deprived of its right to live, Lord Edgware. I feel - very strongly about it. I wish you good-day.’
‘Oh - er - good-bye.’
He looked rather taken aback.
As I opened the door I almost collided with Miss Carroll.
‘Ah! M. Poirot, they told me you hadn’t gone yet. I’d like a word with you if I may. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming up to my room?
‘It’s about that child, Geraldine,’ she said when we had entered her sanctum and she had closed the door.
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’
‘She talked a lot of nonsense this afternoon. Now don’t protest. Nonsense! That’s what I call it and that’s what it was. She broods.’
‘I could see that she was suffering from over-strain,’ said Poirot gently.
‘Well - to tell the truth - she hasn’t had a very happy life. No, one can’t pretend she has. Frankly, M. Poirot, Lord Edgware was a peculiar man - not the sort of man who ought to have had anything to do with the upbringing of children. Quite frankly, he terrorized Geraldine.’
Poirot nodded.
‘Yes, I should imagine something of the kind.’
‘He was a peculiar man. He - I don’t quite know how to put it - but he enjoyed seeing anyone afraid of him. It seemed to give him a morbid kind of pleasure.’
‘Quite so.’
‘He was an extremely well-read man, and a man of considerable intellect. But in some ways - well, I didn’t come across that side of him myself, but it was there. I’m not really surprised his wife left him. This wife, I mean. I don’t approve of her, mind. I’ve no opinion of that young woman at all. But in marrying Lord Edgware she got all and more than she deserved. Well, she left him - and no bones broken, as they say. But Geraldine couldn’t leave him. For a long time he’d forget all about her, and then, suddenly, he’d remember. I sometimes think - though perhaps I shouldn’t say it -’
‘Yes, yes. Mademoiselle, say it.’
‘Well, I sometimes thought he revenged himself on the mother - his first wife - that way. She was a gentle creature, I believe, with a very sweet disposition. I’ve always been sorry for her. I shouldn’t have mentioned all this, M. Poirot, if it hadn’t been for that very foolish outburst of Geraldine’s just now. Things she said - about hating her father - they might sound peculiar to anyone who didn’t know.’
‘Thank you very much, Mademoiselle. Lord Edgware, I fancy, was a man who would have done much better not to marry.’
‘Much better.’
‘He never thought of marrying for a third time?’
‘How could he? His wife was alive.’
‘By giving her her freedom he would have been free himself.’
‘I should think he had had enough trouble with two wives as it was,’ said Miss Carroll grimly.
‘So you think there would have been no question of a third marriage. There was no one? Think, Made-moiselle. No one?’
Miss Carroll’s colour rose.
‘I cannot understand the way you keep harping on the point. Of course there was no one.’

第十三章 侄儿
新任的埃奇韦尔男爵眼睛很尖。他注意到我看到他时略微吃惊的表情。
“啊！您想起来了吗？”他友善地说道，“在我婶子，简的小宴会上，我多喝了点，是不是？但我想别人是看不出来的。”
波洛正在向杰拉尔丁。马什和卡罗尔小姐告别。
“我跟你们一起下去。”罗纳德爽快地说。
他于是领着我们下了楼。边走边谈。
“人的一生——真是怪事。今天被踢了出去，明天又成了主人。你们知道，三年前，我那位刚死去的叔叔将我逐出门去。他的死有谁会悲哀呢？波洛先生，我想您大概知道这一切的。”
“是的——我听人提起过那事。”波洛平静地回答道。
“自然啦，像那样的事一定会被翻出来的，热心的侦探先生是不会错过这个机会的。”
他冽嘴笑了。
然后他打开了餐厅的门。
“走之前再喝一杯吧。”
波洛谢绝了。我也一样。但是年轻人给自己调了一杯酒，继续说下去。
“为谋杀干杯。”他高兴地说道，“只短短一夜的工夫，我本来是个让债主摇头的穷小子，摇身一变成了商人们争取的对象。昨天还穷困潦倒，而今成了富翁。上帝保佑我的婶婶，简。”
他喝干了一杯，然后稍稍改变了态度与波洛说话。
“不过，说正经的，波洛先生，您在这儿做什么？四天之前我的婶子简还在念台词般地说，‘谁能替我除掉这个蛮横的暴君？’现在，请看她已经除去了她的眼中钉！我想不是由您代办的吧？恐怕是从前当过侦探的波洛一手包办的周密谋杀案。”
波洛笑了。
“我今天下午来是因为杰拉尔丁。马什小姐写了封信让我来的。”
“一个谨慎的回答，呃？不，波洛先生，您到底在这里做什么？不管是什么原因，您好像对我叔叔的死很感兴趣。”
“埃奇韦尔男爵，我一向对谋杀案感兴趣的。”
“但是，您不会去杀人的，您是很谨慎小心的。您应该教简婶子如何小心才对。小心。外加一点伪装。您得原谅我称她简婶子。我觉得很有趣。您记得那天晚上我叫她时，她那张毫无表情的面孔吗？她根本不知道我是谁。”
“真的吗？”
“是的。她来这里三个月之前，我就被逐出了家门。”
他脸上那种好脾气的傻劲暂时不见了，他又轻松地说了下去。
“她是一位漂亮女人，但不够精细。她的手法有些粗糙，是不是？”
波洛耸了耸肩。
“可能是的。”
罗纳德好奇地望着他。
“我以为您不会认定是她干的。她把您也蒙得团团转，是不是？”
“我对美丽是很崇尚的，”波洛平静地说，“但我对证据亦如此。”
他说后面的话时很缓慢。
“证据？”罗纳德猛然问道。
“埃奇韦尔男爵，大概不知道，有人以为她在这里的时候，正在齐西克的宴会上。”
罗纳德骂了一句。
“原来她还是去了。她真是一个不折不扣的女人。六点钟的时候，还说她无论如何不能去呢，恐怕十分钟后就改了主意。当计划谋杀时，万不要信赖一个女人会做她要做的事。谋杀计划再周全也会出问题，是因为这个原因。不过，洛先生，并非自投罗网。唤！是的。别以为我没看透您心里想什么呢。谁是当然的嫌疑犯？就是那个不务正业的坏侄儿。”
他靠在椅子上格格直笑。
“波洛先生，我替您省省脑筋吧。您不必调查简婶子说她绝对不会去赴宴的时候，究竟谁看到我在附近了。我是在那儿的。于是。您就会想，那个坏侄子会不会在昨天晚上戴上渴色的假发和巴黎帽来到这里？”
他似乎很满意这种情形，同时留意观察着我们两个人。波洛倾着他的头，也在仔细地观察着他。我感觉很不自在。
“我也有我的动机——噢！是的，我曾认为我有。我要给你一条很有价值的重要情报，我昨天上午去见了我的叔叔。为什么呢？向他要钱。是的，您可以窃喜了。去要钱。我一分未弄到，失望地走了。后来，在同一天晚上——完全同一天晚上——埃奇韦尔男爵死了。说起来，这倒是个好标题。埃奇韦尔男爵死亡。在书店里一定看好。”
他停了下来。但波洛仍然一言不发。
“波洛先生，承蒙您看得起我。黑斯廷斯上尉听我的话像见了鬼似的。朋友。不用太紫张。听听故事的高潮之处吧。晤，我们说到哪儿了？噢！对了，这案子对坏侄儿不利。他要将罪过推到那位可恨的婶婶身上。那个侄儿曾一度以扮演女性角色而闻名。现在又一次大显身手了。他装出女人的声音自称是埃奇韦尔夫人，然后模仿着女人走路的姿势从管家面前侧身而过，结果没有引起疑心。我那慈爱的叔叔叫了一声“简”，我尖叫一声“乔治”，然后拽住他的脖子，将刀插了进去。其余的细节完全是医学上的，可以略去不讲了。那个伪装的女人出去了。一切大功告成，可以回去睡觉了。”
他哈哈大笑着站起来，又给自己倒了一杯威士忌加苏打水，然后慢慢踱到座位旁。
“计划很成功，是不是？但是您知道，我们就要谈这件事中困难的一部分了。那就是失望的情绪。那种被引人极为满意状态后的失落感。因为现在，波洛先生，我们谈到不在现场的证据了。”
他将酒一饮而尽。
“我始终觉得不在现场的证据是很有意思的。”他说道，“我读侦探小说的时候，总爱熬夜，为的是看到什么时候有嫌疑犯不在现场的证据出现。这一次能证明我不在现场的证据很充分。光是证人就有三个。再明白不过地说，您可以找多赛默夫妇和小姐询问。他们昆富有。而且喜欢听音乐。他们经常在科文特加登大戏院订包厢，专门请有望继承遗产的年轻人去听戏。波洛先生，我就是这种类型的年轻人啊——我们可不可以这样说，我就是他们要找的类型。至于说我喜不喜欢歌剧呢？坦白地说，不喜欢。但我喜欢先去格罗夫诺：“场去吃一顿上等的晚餐，散戏以后，再去别处吃顿丰盛的宵夜，即使不得不陪着雷切尔。多赛默跳舞，累得胳膊两天都抬不起来。所以波洛先生，我的不在现场证据就在这。当我叔叔鲜血涌出的时候，我正在包厢里，依偎在白皙漂亮（恕我失言，她有点黑）的雷切尔身旁，在她那戴着钻石的耳畔低声细语地讲着无意义的话呢。她那长长的犹太式的鼻子正激动地颤动着。波洛先生，现在您明白我为什么这样坦诚了吧？”
他坐靠在椅子上。
“我希望没有让您厌烦了。还有什么问题要问吗？”
“我可以向您保证，我一点也没厌烦。”波洛说，“您既然如此帮忙，我倒有一个小问题想问问你。”
“很高兴效劳。”
“埃奇韦尔男爵，您认识卡洛塔•亚当斯小姐有多长时间了？”
很显然，那个年轻人没想到波洛会问这个问题。他突然坐了起来，脸上的表情迎然不同了。
“您到底为什么要问这些？这与我们刚才所谈的事有什么关系？”
“我只是好奇而己。另外，您已经把要说的话完全说清楚了，我没有必要问什么问题了。”
罗纳德迅速地看了一眼波洛。对于波洛的和蔼表情，他根本不在意。我倒觉得他很疑心。
“卡洛塔•亚当斯？让我想想。大约一年前，或者更早些。去年她第一次登台时，我认识了她。”
“您和她很熟吗？”
“相当熟。不过她不是那种可以让人非常熟悉的女人。譬如，她很谨慎等等。”
“但您喜欢她，是不是？”
罗纳德望着他。
“我想知道您为什么对这位女士感兴趣。是因为那天晚上我和她在一起吗？是的，我很喜欢她。她很有同情心——肯耐心地听人讲话。并且让你觉得自己毕竟还有点价值。”
波洛点点头。
“这个我理解。那么您可能要悲哀了。”
“悲哀？为什么？”
“那位女孩死了。”
“什么？”罗纳德——下惊讶地跳了起来，“卡洛塔死了。”
他听了这个消息惊呆了。
“波洛先生，您在开玩笑吧？我上次见她还好好的呢。”
“那是在什么时候？”波洛快速地问道。
“我想是前天。我不记得了。”
“可还是，她死了。”
“那一定是突如其来的。她是怎么死的？是车祸吗？”
波洛望着天花板。
“不是，是服了过量的安眠药。”
“啊！真是，可怜的孩子！多悲惨啊。”
“这难道不是吗？”
“我很难过。她一切都好好的。她还打算把她的小妹妹接来，还有很多美好的计划。他妈的，我真是太难过了，我筒直无法用语言来形容了。”
“是的。”波洛说，“一个人年纪轻轻的就死去了。实在够惨的一在你还不想死去的时候——在人生的幸福大道展现在你面前，还有好多值得做的事的时候。”
罗纳德迷惑地瞅着他。
“波洛先生，我好像没明白您的意思。”
“没明白？”
波洛接着说道：“我表述自己的想法，也许口气太重了。因为我不想看到年轻人失去生的权力。埃奇韦尔男爵，我这种想法很强烈。再见。”
“呃——再见！”
他显得很吃惊。
我开门的时候，几乎与卡罗尔小姐撞个满怀。
“啊！波洛先生，他们说您还没走。如果可以的话，我想和您谈谈。来我的房间，您不介意吧？”
“是关于那个孩子，杰拉尔丁。”我们走进她的卧室，她关上房门后说道。
“怎么了？女士？”
“她今天下午说了很多无聊的话，您不用先反驳我。是的，无聊的话！我叫它无聊的话，事实上确实是无聊。她一直愁眉不展。”
“我看得出，她实在是过于紧张的缘故。”波洛温和地说。
“晤——说实话——她的生活并不快乐。实在是这样的，我们不能假装她是快乐的。坦白地讲，波洛先生，埃奇韦尔男爵是个很古怪的人——并不注重教养子女。再坦白地讲，他只是让女儿惧怕他。”
波洛点点头。
“是的。我可以想象得出。”
“他是一个怪人。他——我不知道该怎么说——他喜欢看到别人怕他。好像那会给他带来一种病态的快感。”
“很正确。”
“他书看得非常的多，是个相当聪明的人。但在某些方面——我本人并未直接遇到，他是有些怪。他的妻子离开他，我并不奇怪。我是说第二任妻子。您要知道，我不赞成她。我不喜欢那类女人。与埃奇韦尔男爵结婚，她所得到的，比她该得到的多得多。但她还是离开了他——按一般人说来，是毫无损伤地离开了他。但杰拉尔丁无法离开他。他有好长一段时间，早把她忘掉了。后来他又突然记起了她。我有时候觉得——我想也许我不该说——”
“说吧，女士，说出来。”
“好吧。我有时候在想他是通过那种办法，报复她母亲——他的前妻。她是一个很温和的女人，我想，举止很优雅，我一向替她难过。波洛先生，我本不该提这个的。要不是刚才杰拉尔丁突然说那些傻话。我是不会提这个的。她所说的——关于恨她父亲的话——要是不了解内情的人，听了也许觉得奇怪。”
“多谢，女士。我想，要是埃奇韦尔男爵不结婚就好了。”
“是啊、那就好多了。”
“他没有想过第三次结婚吗？”
“那怎么可能呢？他的太太还活得好好的呢！”
“但给了她自由，他自己也就自由了。”
卡罗尔小姐冷冷地说：“照过去的情形，两任太太已经够他烦恼的了。”
“所以您认为他不会再第三汰结婚了？他没有人选吗？想想看，女士，真的没有吗？”
卡罗尔小姐的脸涨红了。
“我不明白您为什么重复这一点。当然没有。”
Chapter 14 Five Questions五个问题
Chapter 14 Five Questions
‘Why did you ask Miss Carroll about the possibility of Lord Edgware’s wanting to marry again?’ I asked with some curiosity as we were driving home.
‘It just occurred to me that there was a possibility of such a thing, mon ami.’
‘Why?’
‘I have been searching in my mind for something to explain Lord Edgware’s sudden volte face regarding the matter of divorce. There is something curious there, my friend.’
‘Yes,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘It is rather odd.’
‘You see, Hastings, Lord Edgware confirmed what Madame had told us. She had employed the lawyers of all kinds, but he refused to budge an inch. No, he would not agree to the divorce. And then, all of a sudden, he yields!’
‘Or so he says,’ I reminded him.
‘Very true, Hastings. It is very just, the observation you make there. So he says. We have no proof, whatever, that that letter was written. Eh bien, on one part, ce Monsieur is lying. For some reason he tells us the fabrication, the embroidery. Is it not so? Why, we do not know. But, on the hypothesis that he did write that letter, there must have been a reason for so doing. Now the reason that presents itself most naturally to the imagination is that he has suddenly met someone whom he desires to marry. That explains perfectly his sudden change of face. And so, naturally, I make the inquiries.’
‘Miss Carroll turned the idea down very decisively,’ I said.
‘Yes. Miss Carroll . . .’ said Poirot in a meditative voice.
‘Now what are you driving at?’ I asked in exasperation.
Poirot is an adept at suggesting doubts by the tone of his voice.
‘What reason should she have for lying about it?’ I asked.
‘Aucune - aucune.’
‘But, you see, Hastings, it is difficult to trust her evidence.’
‘You think she’s lying? But why? She looks a most upright person.’
‘That is just it. Between the deliberate falsehood and the disinterested inaccuracy it is very hard to distinguish sometimes.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘To deceive deliberately - that is one thing. But to be so sure of your facts, of your ideas and of their essential truth that the details do not matter - that, my friend, is a special characteristic of particularly honest persons. Already, mark you, she has told us one lie. She said she saw Jane Wilkinson’s face when she could not possibly have done so. Now how did that come about? Look at it this way. She looks down and sees Jane Wilkinson in the hall. No doubt enters her head that it is Jane Wilkinson. She knows it is. She says she saw her face distinctly because - being so sure of her facts - exact details do not matter! It is pointed out to her that she could not have seen her face. Is that so? Well, what does it matter if she saw her face or not - it was Jane Wilkinson. And so with any other question. She knows. And so she answers questions in the light of her knowledge, not by reason of remembered facts. The positive witness should always be treated with suspicion, my friend. The uncertain witness who doesn’t remember, isn’t sure, will think a minute - ah! yes, that’s how it was - is infinitely more to be depended upon!’
‘Dear me, Poirot,’ I said. ‘You upset all my preconceived ideas about witnesses.’
‘In reply to my question as to Lord Edgware’s marrying again she ridicules the idea - simply because it has never occurred to her. She will not take the trouble to remember whether any infinitesimal signs may have pointed that way. Therefore we are exactly where we were before.’
‘She certainly did not seem at all taken aback when you pointed out she could not have seen Jane Wilkinson’s face,’ I remarked thoughtfully.
‘No. That is why I decided that she was one of those honestly inaccurate persons, rather than a deliberate liar. I can see no motive for deliberate lying unless - true, that is an idea!’
‘What is?’ I asked eagerly.
But Poirot shook his head.
‘An idea suggested itself to me. But it is too impossible - yes, much too impossible.’
And he refused to say more.
‘She seems very fond of the girl,’ I said.
‘Yes. She certainly was determined to assist at our interview. What was your impression of the Honourable Geraldine Marsh, Hastings?’
‘I was sorry for her - deeply sorry for her.’
‘You have always the tender heart, Hastings. Beauty in distress upsets you every time.’
‘Didn’t you feel the same?’
He nodded gravely.
‘Yes - she has not had a happy life. That is written very clearly on her face.’
‘At any rate,’ I said warmly, ‘you realize how preposterous Jane Wilkinson’s suggestion was - that she should have had anything to do with the crime, I mean.’
‘Doubtless her alibi is satisfactory, but Japp has not communicated it to me as yet.’
‘My dear Poirot - do you mean to say that even after seeing her and talking to her, you are still not satisfied and want an alibi?’
‘Eh bien, my friend, what is the result of seeing and talking to her? We perceive that she has passed through great unhappiness, she admits that she hated her father and is glad that he is dead, and she is deeply uneasy about what he may have said to us yesterday morning. And after that you say - no alibi is necessary!’
‘Her mere frankness proves her innocence,’ I said warmly.
‘Frankness is a characteristic of the family. The new Lord Edgware - with what a gesture he laid his cards on the table.’
‘He did indeed,’ I said, smiling at the remembrance. ‘Rather an original method.’
Poirot nodded.
‘He - what do you say? - cut the ground before our feet.’
‘From under,’ I corrected. ‘Yes - it made us look rather foolish.’
‘What a curious idea. You may have looked foolish. I didn’t feel foolish in the least and I do not think I looked it. On the contrary, my friend, I put him out of countenance.’
‘Did you?’ I said doubtfully, not remembering having seen signs of anything of the kind.
‘Si, si. I listen - and listen. And at last I ask a question about something quite different, and that, you may have noticed, disconcerts our brave Monsieur very much. You do not observe, Hastings.’
‘I thought his horror and astonishment at hearing of Carlotta Adams’ death was genuine,’ I said. ‘I suppose you will say it was a piece of clever acting.’
‘Impossible to tell. I agree it seemed genuine.’
‘Why do you think he flung all those facts at our head in that cynical way? Just for amusement?’
‘That is always possible. You English, you have the most extraordinary notions of humour. But it may have been policy. Facts that are concealed acquire a suspicious importance. Facts that are frankly revealed tend to be regarded as less important than they really are.’
‘The quarrel with his uncle that morning, for instance?’
‘Exactly. He knows that the fact is bound to leak out. Eh bien, he will parade it.’
‘He is not so foolish as he looks.’
‘Oh! he is not foolish at all. He has plenty of brains when he cares to use them. He sees exactly where he stands and, as I said, he lays his cards on the table. You play the bridge, Hastings. Tell me, when does one do that?’
‘You play bridge yourself,’ I said, laughing. ‘You know well enough - when all the rest of the tricks are yours and you want to save time and get on to a new hand.’
‘Yes, mon ami, that is all very true. But occasionally there is another reason. I have remarked it once or twice when playing with les dames. There is perhaps a little doubt. Eh bien, la dame, she throws down the cards, says “and all the rest are mine,” and gathers up the cards and cuts the new pack. And possibly the other players agree - especially if they are a little inexperienced. The thing is not obvious, mark you. It requires to be followed out. Half-way through dealing the next hand, one of the players thinks: “Yes, but she would have to have taken over that fourth diamond in dummy whether she wanted it or not, and then she would have had to lead a little club and my nine would have made.”’
‘So you think?’
‘I think, Hastings, that too much bravado is a very interesting thing. And I also think that it is time we dined. Une petite omelette, n’est ce pas? And after that, about nine o’clock, I have one more visit I wish to make.’
‘Where is that?’
‘We will dine first, Hastings. And until we drink our coffee, we will not discuss the case further. When engaged in eating, the brain should be the servant of the stomach.’
Poirot was as good as his word. We went to a little restaurant in Soho where he was well known, and there we had a delicious omelette, a sole, a chicken and a Baba au Rhum of which Poirot was inordinately fond.
Then, as we sipped our coffee, Poirot smiled affectionately across the table at me.
‘My good friend,’ he said. ‘I depend upon you more than you know.’
I was confused and delighted by these unexpected words. He had never said anything of the kind to me before. Sometimes, secretly, I had felt slightly hurt. He seemed almost to go out of his way to disparage my mental powers.
Although I did not think his own powers were flagging, I did realize suddenly that perhaps he had come to depend on my aid more than he knew.
‘Yes,’ he said dreamily. ‘You may not always comprehend just how it is so - but you do often, and often point the way.’
I could hardly believe my ears.
‘Really, Poirot,’ I stammered. ‘I’m awfully glad, I suppose I’ve learnt a good deal from you one way or another -’
He shook his head.
‘Mais non, ce n’est pas ?a. You have learnt nothing.’
‘Oh!’ I said, rather taken aback.
‘That is as it should be. No human being should learn from another. Each individual should develop his own powers to the uttermost, not try to imitate those of someone else. I do not wish you to be a second and inferior Poirot. I wish you to be the supreme Hastings. And you are the supreme Hastings. In you, Hastings, I find the normal mind almost perfectly illustrated.’
‘I’m not abnormal, I hope,’ I said.
‘No, no. You are beautifully and perfectly balanced. In you sanity is personified. Do you realize what that means to me? When the criminal sets out to do a crime his first effort is to deceive. Who does he seek to deceive? The image in his mind is that of the normal man. There is probably no such thing actually - it is a mathematical abstraction. But you come as near to realizing it as is possible. There are moments when you have flashes of brilliance when you rise above the average, moments (I hope you will pardon me) when you descend to curious depths of obtuseness, but take it all for all, you are amazingly normal. Eh bien, how does this profit me? Simply in this way. As in a mirror I see reflected in your mind exactly what the criminal wishes me to believe. That is terrifically helpful and suggestive.’
I did not quite understand. It seemed to me that what Poirot was saying was hardly complimentary. However, he quickly disabused me of that impression.
‘I have expressed myself badly,’ he said quickly. ‘You have an insight into the criminal mind, which I myself lack. You show me what the criminal wishes me to believe. It is a great gift.’
‘Insight,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘Yes, perhaps I have got insight.’
I looked across the table at him. He was smoking his tiny cigarettes and regarding me with great kindliness.
‘Ce cher Hastings,’ he murmured. ‘I have indeed much affection for you.’
I was pleased but embarrassed and hastened to change the subject.
‘Come,’ I said in a business-like manner. ‘Let us discuss the case.’
‘Eh bien.’ Poirot threw his head back, his eyes narrowed. He slowly puffed out smoke.
‘Je me pose des questions,’ he said.
‘Yes?’ I said eagerly.
‘You, too, doubtless?’
‘Certainly,’ I said. And also leaning back and narrowing my own eyes I threw out:
‘Who killed Lord Edgware?’
Poirot immediately sat up and shook his head vigorously.
‘No, no. Not at all. Is it a question, that? You are like someone who reads the detective story and who starts guessing each of the characters in turn without rhyme or reason. Once, I agree, I had to do that myself. It was a very exceptional case. I will tell you about it one of these days. It was a feather in my cap. But of what were we speaking?’
‘Of the questions you were “posing” to yourself,’ I replied dryly. It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that my real use to Poirot was to provide him with a companion to whom he could boast, but I controlled myself. If he wished to instruct then let him.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s hear them.’
That was all that the vanity of the man wanted. He leaned back again and resumed his former attitude.
‘The first question we have already discussed. Why did Lord Edgware change his mind on the subject of divorce? One or two ideas suggest themselves to me on that subject. One of them you know.
‘The second question I ask myself is What happened to that letter? To whose interest was it that Lord Edgware and his wife should continue to be tied together?
‘Three, What was the meaning of the expression on his face that you saw when you looked back yesterday morning on leaving the library? Have you any answer to that, Hastings?’
I shook my head.
‘I can’t understand it.’
‘You are sure that you didn’t imagine it? Sometimes, Hastings, you have the imagination un peu vif.’
‘No, no.’ I shook my head vigorously. ‘I’m quite sure I wasn’t mistaken.’
‘Bien. Then it is a fact to be explained. My fourth question concerns those pince-nez. Neither Jane Wilkinson nor Carlotta Adams wore glasses. What, then, are the glasses doing in Carlotta Adams’ bag?
‘And for my fifth question. Why did someone telephone to find out if Jane Wilkinson were at Chiswick and who was it?
‘Those, my friend, are the questions with which I am tormenting myself. If I could answer those, I should feel happier in my mind. If I could even evolve a theory that explained them satisfactorily, my amour propre would not suffer so much.’
‘There are several other questions,’ I said.
‘Such as?’
‘Who incited Carlotta Adams to this hoax? Where was she that evening before and after ten o’clock? Who is D who gave her the golden box?’
‘Those questions are self-evident,’ said Poirot. ‘There is no subtlety about them. They are simply things we do not know. They are questions of fact. We may get to know them any minute. My questions, mon ami, are psychological. The little grey cells of the brain -’
‘Poirot,’ I said desperately. I felt that I must stop him at all costs. I could not bear to hear it all over again. ‘You spoke of making a visit tonight?’
Poirot looked at his watch.
‘True,’ he said. ‘I will telephone and find out if it is convenient.’
He went away and returned a few minutes later.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘All is well.’
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
‘To the house of Sir Montagu Corner at Chiswick. I would like to know a little more about that telephone call.’

第十四章 五个问题
“你为什么问卡罗尔小姐埃奇韦尔男爵是不是可能再娶呢？”在我们乘车回家的路上，我好奇地问他。
“我的朋友。我只是偶然想起可能有这事。”
“为什么？”
“我一直在想，埃奇韦尔男爵为什么完全改变他在离婚问题上的态度呢？我的朋友，这点很奇怪啊！”
“是的，”我也思索着说，“真是有些古怪。”
“黑斯廷斯，你看。埃奇韦尔男爵证实了他太太说的话。她请了各种律师与他交涉，但他丝毫不肯让步。他不同意离婚。但是突然间，他又让步了。”
“也许他只是这么说说。”我提醒他道。
“不错，黑斯廷斯，你的想法是正确的。他只是这么说说。不管怎么说，我们没有证据证明他写过那封信。很好，一方面，可能是我们这位光生在撒谎。因为某种原因，他只好告诉我2一些捏造、夸张的话。是不是这样呢？呃，我们也不知道。但是假定他的确写了那封信。那么他这样做，一定得有一个理由。现在我们可以想象出来一个显而易见的理由，那就是他突然遇到了如意的结婚对象。要是这么说，就可以解释他态度的突然转变了。所以，很自然的。我要查清楚啦。”
“卡罗尔小姐很坚决地否定了。”我说道。
“是的，卡罗尔小姐——”波洛带着沉思的口气说。
“你究竟想说什么？”我迫切地问道。
波洛就善于用特别的语调表示怀疑。
“她有什么理由撒谎呢？”我问道。
“没有，当然没有。”
“但是，你看，黑斯廷斯，我们很难相信她所提供的证据。”
“你认为她在撒谎？但为什么？她看起来是一个极正直的人。”
“就是因为这个。有时很难分辨是有意说谎还是因为不关心而没看准确。”
“你是什么意思呢？”
“故意欺骗——是一回事。一个诚实的人的特点就是对自己的行动、想法和主要事实有充分的把握，那么枝节问题也就不重要了。你要注意到，她己经对我们说过一次谎了。她说她看见了简•威尔金森的脸，而实际上她根本看不到。那为什么这佯呢？她向下看到简•威尔金森走进大厅，毫无疑问。她脑子里就想到是简•威尔金森了。她就断定是她了。她说清楚地看到了她的脸——是因为她对事实太确信了——枝节的东西她就不顾了。根据实际情况判断，她根本看不到她的脸，是不是？可是，她是否看到了她的脸，又有什么关系呢？她主观地认定那就是简。对于任何别的问题，也是如此。反正她以为自己己经确定了。于是无论遇到什么问题。她都按自己的想法来回答。井非根据她所看到的真相。朋友。我们对于那种说话太肯定的证人得抱有怀疑的态度。那种不肯定的证人，那种总是认不清了。或者说没有把握。必须想想才能答复的人要可靠得多一是的，情形确实如此。”
“天哪！波洛”，我说，“你把我以前对证人的观念全改变了。”
“当她听到我说埃奇韦尔男爵会不会再婚的事，便认为我的想法太可笑——原因是她根本没想过会有这种情况。她也不会费尽心思去找任何一丝此类的迹象。所以我们和她说了，也没多知道什么。”
“当你提到她不可能看到简•威尔金森的面孔时，她毫不惊奇。”我回忆着说道。
“是的，这也是为什么我认为她不是那种故意说谎的人。而只是个正直，但说得不淮确的人。我实在看不出她故意说谎的动机，除非是一真的，这倒是一个有意思的猜测。”
“什么猜测？”我急切地问。
但是波洛又摇了摇头。
“我只是突生这一想法，但这实在不太可能——是的，不太可能。”
于是他不再多说了。
“她似乎很喜欢那个女孩子。”我说。
“是的，她在我们同那女孩说话的时候，的确想从中帮忙。黑斯廷斯，你对杰拉尔丁。马什小姐印象如何？”
“我为她难过——深深地为她难过。”
“黑斯廷斯，你总是那么有同情心。每逢美人落难时，你总是为之悲哀。”
“你难道没有同感吗？”
他肃穆地点点头。
“是的——她的生活太不幸了。那些都清晰地写在她的脸上。”
“无论如何，”我热心地说，“简•威尔金森曾表示这女孩与凶杀案有关。你看她有多么荒唐。”
“毫无疑问她不在现场的说法是成立的，但是，到目前为止，贾普还没和我们联系呢。”
“我亲爱的波洛，你是说和她见面，谈过之后，你对她不是凶手的想法仍不满意，还想要找她不在现场的证据吗？”
“晤，我的朋友，我们与她见面和谈话的结果又怎么样呢？我们现她有很不幸的童年；她承认她恨她的父亲，现在他死了”可以高兴了；同时她不知道她的父亲昨天对我们讲了什么。所以很不安。经过这样的谈话。你就说不需要找证明她不在犯罪现场的证据了？”
“她坦白的态度可以证明她的滑白。”我热心地说。
“坦率可以说是他们一家人的特点。新的埃奇韦尔男爵——看他那把一切摊在桌面上的态度。”
“他确实公开一切。”我回想起刚才的情景，笑着说。“他的方式相当有独创性。”
波洛点点头。
“他——你说什么来着？让我们无法继续了。”
“是让我们站不住了。”我纠正道，“是的——让我们显得很傻。”
“这想法有多奇怪。你也许显出了傻瓜模样，但我可一点没显得那样。我认为我不会显得那样。相反，朋友，我使他下不了台了。”
“是吗？”我怀疑地说道，因为好像不记得看到过这种迹象。
“是啊！是啊！我听——只是听。最后我问了他一个完全不同的问题，你可以注意到，这使得我们那位勇敢的朋友不知所措。黑斯廷斯，你这个人老是不留心观察。”
“我以为他听说卡洛塔死亡的消息后那吃惊和恐怖的表情是真实的。”我说，“我想你也许会说他又装得很聪明。”
“是不是真的，我们并不知道。不过我同意，他的表情似乎是真的。”
“你认为他为什么用那种嘲笑的方式把事实统统倒给我们听？只是为了好玩吗？”
“那总是可能的。你们英国人都有一种特别的幽默感。但是他也许要了什么手段。事实愈是隐瞒，就愈加令人怀疑，而公开了反倒使人低估它的重要性。”
“比如说。那天早上与他叔叔的争吵？”
“一点不错，他知道这件事早晚会泄露出去。那么他索性就公开了它。”
“他并不像表面的样子那样傻。”
“啊！他根本一点也不傻。他要是动脑筋的话，是很聪明的。他能清楚地看出自己的位置，我刚才不是说过吗？他已经向我们摊牌了。黑斯廷斯，你不是会打桥牌吗？告诉我，什么时候那么做？”
“你自己也打桥牌啊，”我笑着说，“你也很清楚的。当其余的牌都归了你，而且，当你想省时间，想玩另一局的时候，你就摊牌。”
“是的，我的朋友，你说得对。但是，偶尔还会有其它原因。我过去与夫人们打牌的时候，曾经留意过一两次。不过，也许不十分肯定。那么一位夫人将牌向桌上一扔说。‘其余的牌都归我了，’然后她将牌全部收起，再另外分牌。也许其他打牌的人都同意，特别是那些没多少经验的牌友。但是你要注意，这种事是不能马上看清楚的，必须仔细迫究才可能发现。等到另一局打到中途时，其中也许有人会想：‘是的，但她应该将第四张方块牌拿过来，不管她想不想要，那么她就不得不再打一张梅花，而我就可以得到一张九了。’”
“你认为——”
“黑斯廷斯，我认为虚张声势是一件很有趣的事。同时我还觉得我们该吃饭了。一份煎蛋卷，好不好？然后在九点的时候，我还要再拜访一个人。”
“去哪儿？”
“黑斯廷斯，我们先吃饭。喝咖啡之前，我们不再谈这个案子了。吃饭的时候，大脑应该饲候我们的肠胃。”
波洛说话算话。我们去了索霍区的一家小饭店，他是那里的常客。我们在那吃了——份味美的煎蛋卷、一碟板鱼、一碟鸡肉和葡萄酒，这是波洛最喜欢的点心。
饭后我们喝咖啡的时候，波洛隔着桌子亲切地笑着望着我。
“我的好朋友，”他说。“我对你的依赖远比你想象的多。”
对于这突如其来的话我既迷惑不解，又受宠若惊。他以前从未对我说过这类的话。有时候我还暗自觉得有点难过，因为他好像瞧不起我的智力。
尽管我井不认为他自己的智力已懈怠了，但我忽然觉得他大概对我的帮助依赖比他所知道的还要强。
“是的，”他梦幻般地说，“你有的时候也许不明白这是怎么回事，但是你的确常常为我指路。”
我几乎不能相信自己的耳朵。
“真的，波洛？”我结结巴巴地说，“波洛，我真是高兴极了，我想我从你那里总归学到些东西了。”
他摇摇头。
“不是的，不是这样的，你什么也没学到。”
“噢！”我相当吃惊地说。
“这是理所当然的。没有人应该从另一个人那里学什么。每个人都应该尽量发挥自己的能力，而不应该模仿别人。我不希望你成为第二个波洛，或差一等的波洛。我希望你成为至高无上的黑斯廷斯。其实，你就是至高无上的黑斯廷斯。黑斯廷斯，我觉得从你身上。差不多可以充分表现出一个有正常头脑的人所应有的特点了。”
“我希望自己不是不正常的。”我说。
“不，不。你相当正常。两脑均衡。你就是健全心态的化身。你知道这对我有多重要吗？当罪犯着手犯罪的时候，他的第一步就是欺骗。他要打算欺骗谁呢？在他心目中，他要找的对象就是正常人。也许实际上井没这回事一这纯粹是一个数学上的抽象概念。但是，你差不多尽可能地将这个抽象概念具体化了。你有的时候会有一刹那超乎常人的才华表现（希望你原谅我这样说，有时你会陷入很奇怪的愚昧的深渊。但是大体上说来，你有惊人的正常人的头脑。那么。这怎么会对我有利呢？很简单，那就是。我可以把你当成一面镜子，在你的心里可以确切反映出那个罪犯想要我相信什么。这非常有用，非常有参考价值。”
我不大明白。我觉得波洛说的根本不是恭维我的意思。不过他很快矫正了我这种印象。
“我自己的意思表述得不好。”他很快地说，“你有对罪犯的洞察力，而我没有。你可以指出罪犯要骗我相信什么。这是一种伟大的天赋。”
“洞察力，”我思索着说，“是的，也许我有洞察力。”
我望着坐在桌子对面的波洛。他正在抽着他的小烟卷儿，带着恳切的态度望着我。
“亲爱的黑斯廷斯，”他小声地说，“我实在很喜欢你。”
我很高兴。也很难为情，于是赶紧转变话题。
“来，”我一本正经地说，“我们还是讨论这个案子吧。”
“那么。”波洛头向后一仰，眼睛眯成一条缝，慢慢地一口一口吐着烟圈。
“我就问自己几个问题。”他说道。
“什么？”我急切地问道。
“毫无疑问，你也有问题了。”
“当然啦，”我也将头向后一仰，眯着眼睛说道，“比如说，谁杀了埃奇韦尔男爵？”
“不”本不是这种间题。那是问题吗？你好像是一个看侦探小说的人，头脑地把小说中的人物一个一个地猜下去。我承认，次我不得不这样做。那是件很特殊的案子。将来有时间我会讲给你听的。当时破了那案子，很荣耀的。可是，我们刚才谈什么来着？）”
“正谈到你要问自己几个问题。”我淡淡地说道。我本想脱口说出，我的真正用途是陪着他，好让他有炫耀对象。但我还是忍住了。他既然想教导别人，就让他来吧。
“说吧，”我说道，“我洗耳恭听呢。”
他的虚荣心也就想要这个。他又将身子往后一靠，恢复了以前的态度。
“第一个问题，我们已经讨论过了。为什么在离婚问题上，埃奇韦尔男爵改变了主意？我脑子里面有一两个想法。其中一个你知道的。
“我问自己的第二个间题是，那封信怎么了？是谁还想让埃奇韦尔男爵和他的太太继续合法在一起，以便对他有利？
“第三，咋天上午离开那间书房时，你回头看了一下，你看到他脸上有一种表情，那是什么意思？黑斯廷斯，你有什么答案吗？”
我摇摇头。
“我不明白。”
“你肯定不是你自己想象的吗？黑斯廷斯，有时候，你的想象力是很敏锐的。”
“不，不”，我极力地摇着头，“我确信自己没看错。”
“好。那么这一事实还有待解释。我的第四个问题与那副夹鼻眼镜有关。简•威尔金森和卡洛塔•亚当斯都不戴眼镜。那么为什么那副眼镜在卡洛塔•亚当斯的手袋里呢？
“我的第五个问题：为什么有人打电话找筒。威尔金森以确定她是否在齐西克？那个人又是谁呢？
“我的朋友，这就是我拿来折磨自己的一些问题。要是能够解答这些问题，我可能心里会觉得舒服些。甚至于只要能推断出一种解释这些问题的理论，我的自尊心也不会损害得这么厉害了。”
“还有其它的问题呢。”我说道。“比如说——”
“是谁唆使卡洛塔•亚当斯去捉弄人？那天晚上十点左右她在哪儿？谁是Ｄ？谁给她的那只金匣子？”
“那些问题是不证自明的。”波洛说，“这些问题并不微妙，只是我们不知道的事情而已。它们只是事实问题。我们叮以随时找到答案。我的朋友，我的问题是心理方面的，这是需要运用脑细胞的——”
“波洛，”我不顾一切地打断他，我觉得无论如何。不能再让他提脑细胞了，他要再旧话重提，我可实在受不了了。“你不是说今晚要去拜访一个人吗？”
波洛看了看表。
“是啊！”他说，“我要先去打个电话，看人家方不方便。”
他去打电话，过了几分钟回来了。
“来吧，”他说，“——切顺利。”
“我们去哪儿？”我问道。
“去齐西克，蒙塔古。科纳爵士的公馆。对于那个电话，我想知道得多一些。”
Chapter 15 Sir Montagu Corner蒙塔古·科纳博士

Chapter 15 Sir Montagu Corner
It was about ten o’clock when we reached Sir Montagu Corner’s house on the river at Chiswick. It was a big house standing back in its own grounds. We were admitted into a beautifully-panelled hall. On our right, through an open door, we saw the dining-room with its long polished table lit with candles.
‘Will you come this way, please?’
The butler led the way up a broad staircase and into a long room on the first floor overlooking the river.
‘M. Hercule Poirot,’ announced the butler.
It was a beautifully-proportioned room, and had an old-world air with its carefully-shaded dim lamps. In one corner of the room was a bridge table, set near the open window, and round it sat four people. As we entered the room one of the four rose and came towards us.
‘It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, M. Poirot.’
I looked with some interest at Sir Montagu Corner. He had a distinctly Jewish cast of countenance, very small intelligent black eyes and a carefully-arranged toupee. He was a short man - five foot eight at most, I should say. His manner was affected to the last degree.
‘Let me introduce you. Mr and Mrs Widburn.’
‘We’ve met before,’ said Mrs Widburn brightly. ‘And Mr Ross.’
Ross was a young fellow of about twenty-two with a pleasant face and fair hair.
‘I disturb your game. A million apologies,’ said Poirot.
‘Not at all. We have not started. We were commencing to deal the cards only. Some coffee, M. Poirot?’
Poirot declined but accepted an offer of old brandy. It was brought us in immense goblets.
As we sipped it, Sir Montagu discoursed.
He spoke of Japanese prints, of Chinese lacquer, of Persian carpets, of the French Impressionists, of modern music and of the theories of Einstein.
Then he sat back and smiled at us beneficently. He had evidently thoroughly enjoyed his performance. In the dim light he looked like some genie of the mediaeval age. All around the room were exquisite examples of art and culture.
‘And now, Sir Montagu,’ said Poirot, ‘I will trespass on your kindness no longer but will come to the object of my visit.’
Sir Montagu waved a curious claw-like hand.
‘There is no hurry. Time is infinite.’
‘One always feels that in this house,’ sighed Mrs Widburn. ‘So wonderful.’
‘I would not live in London for a million pounds,’ said Sir Montagu. ‘Here one is in the old-world atmosphere of peace that - alas! - we have put behind us in these jarring days.’
A sudden impish fancy flashed over me that if someone were really to offer Sir Montagu a million pounds, old-world peace might go to the wall, but I trod down such heretical sentiments.
‘What is money, after all?’ murmured Mrs Widburn.
‘Ah!’ said Mr Widburn thoughtfully, and rattled some coins absent-mindedly in his trouser pocket.
‘Charles,’ said Mrs Widburn reproachfully.
‘Sorry,’ said Mr Widburn and stopped.
‘To speak of crime in such an atmosphere, is, I feel, unpardonable,’ began Poirot apologetically.
‘Not at all.’ Sir Montagu waved a gracious hand. ‘A crime can be a work of art. A detective can be an artist. I do not refer, of course, to the police. An inspector has been here today. A curious person. He had never heard of Benvenuto Cellini, for instance.’
‘He came about Jane Wilkinson, I suppose,’ said Mrs Widburn with instant curiosity.
‘It was fortunate for the lady that she was at your house last night,’ said Poirot.
‘So it seems,’ said Sir Montagu. ‘I asked her here knowing that she was beautiful and talented and hoping that I might be able to be of use to her. She was thinking of going into management. But it seems that I was fated to be of use to her in a very different way.’
‘Jane’s got luck,’ said Mrs Widburn. ‘She’s been dying to get rid of Edgware and here’s somebody gone and saved her the trouble. She’ll marry the young Duke of Merton now. Everyone says so. His mother’s wild about it.’
‘I was favourably impressed by her,’ said Sir Montagu graciously. ‘She made several most intelligent remarks about Greek art.’
I smiled to myself picturing Jane saying ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, ‘Really, how wonderful’, in her magical husky voice. Sir Montagu was the type of man to whom intelligence consisted of the faculty of listening to his own remarks with suitable attention.
‘Edgware was a queer fish, by all accounts,’ said Widburn. ‘I daresay he’s got a good few enemies.’
‘Is it true, M. Poirot,’ asked Mrs Widburn, ‘that somebody ran a penknife into the back of his brain?’
‘Perfectly true, Madame. It was very neatly and efficiently done - scientific, in fact.’
‘I note your artistic pleasure, M. Poirot,’ said Sir Montagu.
‘And now,’ said Poirot, ‘let me come to the object of my visit. Lady Edgware was called to the telephone when she was here at dinner. It is about that telephone call that I seek information. Perhaps you will allow me to question your domestics on the subject?’
‘Certainly. Certainly. Just press that bell, will you, Ross.’
The butler answered the bell. He was a tall middle-aged man of ecclesiastical appearance.
Sir Montagu explained what was wanted. The butler turned to Poirot with polite attention.
‘Who answered the telephone when it rang?’ began Poirot.
‘I answered it myself, sir. The telephone is in a recess leading out of the hall.’
‘Did the person calling ask to speak to Lady Edgware or to Miss Jane Wilkinson?’
‘To Lady Edgware, sir.’
‘What did they say exactly?’
The butler reflected for a moment.
‘As far as I remember, sir, I said “Hello”. A voice then asked if I was Chiswick 43434. I replied that that was so. It then asked me to hold the line. Another voice then asked if that was Chiswick 43434 and on my replying “Yes” it said, “Is Lady Edgware dining there?” I said her ladyship was dining here. The voice said, “I would like to speak to her, please.” I went and informed her ladyship who was at the dinner table. Her ladyship rose, and I showed her where the ’phone was.’
‘And then?’
‘Her ladyship picked up the receiver and said: “Hello - who’s speaking?” Then she said: “Yes - that’s all right. Lady Edgware speaking.” I was just about to leave her ladyship when she called to me and said they had been cut off. She said someone had laughed and evidently hung up the receiver. She asked me if the person ringing up had given any name. They had not done so. That was all that occurred, sir.’
Poirot frowned to himself.
‘Do you really think the telephone call has something to do with the murder, M. Poirot?’ asked Mrs Widburn.
‘Impossible to say, Madame. It is just a curious circumstance.’
‘People do ring up for a joke sometimes. It’s been done to me.’
‘C’est toujours possible, Madame.’
He spoke to the butler again.
‘Was it a man’s voice or a woman’s who rang up?’
‘A lady’s, I think, sir.’
‘What kind of a voice, high or low?’
‘Low, sir. Careful and rather distinct.’ He paused. ‘It may be my fancy, sir, but it sounded like a foreign voice. The R’s were very noticeable.’
‘As far as that goes it might have been a Scotch voice, Donald,’ said Mrs Widburn, smiling at Ross.
Ross laughed.
‘Not guilty,’ he said. ‘I was at the dinner table.’
Poirot spoke once again to the butler.
‘Do you think,’ he asked, ‘that you could recognize that voice if you were to hear it any time?’
The butler hesitated.
‘I couldn’t quite say, sir. I might do so. I think it is possible that I should do so.’
‘I thank you, my friend.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The butler inclined his head and withdrew, pontificial to the last.
Sir Montagu Corner continued to be very friendly and to play his role of old-world charm. He persuaded us to remain and play bridge. I excused myself - the stakes were bigger than I cared about. Young Ross seemed relieved also at the prospect of someone taking his hand. He and I sat looking on while the other four played. The evening ended in a heavy financial gain to Poirot and Sir Montagu.
Then we thanked our host and took our departure. Ross came with us.
‘A strange little man,’ said Poirot as we stepped out into the night.
The night was fine and we had decided to walk until we picked up a taxi instead of having one telephoned for.
‘Yes, a strange little man,’ said Poirot again.
‘A very rich little man,’ said Ross with feeling.
‘I suppose so.’
‘He seems to have taken a fancy to me,’ said Ross. ‘Hope it will last. A man like that behind you means a lot.’
‘You are an actor, Mr Ross?’
Ross said that he was. He seemed sad that his name had not brought instant recognition. Apparently he had recently won marvellous notices in some gloomy play translated from the Russian.
When Poirot and I between us had soothed him down again, Poirot asked casually:
‘You knew Carlotta Adams, did you not?’
‘No. I saw her death announced in the paper tonight. Overdose of some drug or other. Idiotic the way all these girls dope.’
‘It is sad, yes. She was clever, too.’
‘I suppose so.’
He displayed a characteristic lack of interest in any - one else’s performance but his own.
‘Did you see her show at all?’ I asked.
‘No. That sort of thing’s not much in my line. Kind of craze for it at present, but I don’t think it will last.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot.
‘Here is a taxi.’
He waved a stick.
‘Think I’ll walk,’ said Ross. ‘I get a tube straight home from Hammersmith.’
Suddenly he gave a nervous laugh.
‘Odd thing,’ he said. ‘That dinner last night.’
‘Yes?’
‘We were thirteen. Some fellow failed at the last minute. We never noticed till just the end of dinner.’
‘And who got up first?’ I asked.
He gave a queer little nervous cackle of laughter.
‘I did,’ he said.

第十五章 蒙塔古•科纳博士
我们到达齐西克河边的蒙塔古。科纳爵士公馆的时候，大约有十点钟。那是一所大宅子。前面有很大的庭院。我们被让入一个墙上嵌着精美木板的大厅。我们的右边，由那扇开着的门看去，可以看见餐厅，里面的餐桌擦得亮亮的，上面摆看烛台。
“请这边走。”
管家领我们走上一座宽大的楼梯。走进二楼的一间可以俯瞰河水的长形的房间。
“赫尔克里•波洛先生到。”管家通报道。
这是一间比例相当合适的房间，里面的灯发出幽暗的光亮，有一种旧世界气氛。房子的角落上摆着一张桥牌桌”刚好放在靠窗的位置。正有四个人坐在那儿打桥牌。当我们走进去的时候，其中一个人站起，迎上前来。
“波洛先生，见到您很荣幸。”
我饶有兴趣地打量着蒙塔古。科纳爵士。他有一副明显的犹太式的面孔，一双小小的黑眼睛，头上戴着精心梳理过的假发。他个子很矮——顶多有五英尺八英寸高。他的态度可以说是彻头彻尾的矫揉造作。
“让我向您介绍一下。这是威德伯思先生和威德伯恩夫人。”
威德伯恩夫人愉快地说。“我们见过面的。”
“这是罗斯先生。”
罗斯是个二十多岁的青年，有一副悦人的面孔和褐色的头发。
“打扰各位玩牌了。我万分歉意。”波洛说。
“没关系。我们还没开始呢。我们只是刚刚分牌。波洛先生。来点咖啡吗？”
波洛谢绝了，但却另外要了一杯陈年威士忌。仆人用大高脚杯给我们端上酒来。
当我们喝酒的时候。蒙塔古爵士与我们交谈。
他谈到日本的版画，中国的漆器。波斯的地毯，法国的印象派画家。现代音乐，还有爱因斯坦的学说。
然后他靠在椅背上，亲切地对着我们笑。不消说，他对自己的表演很满意。在那昏暗的灯光下，他的样子很像中古时代的神怪。室内四周的摆设，处处都代表着高度的艺术和文化趣昧。
“那么，蒙塔古爵士”，波洛说道，“我不想太多打扰您，就将来意说明白好了。”
“不用忙，有充足的时间。”
“我们在这里都感觉到这一点，”威德伯思夫人感叹道，“真是妙极了。”
“就是给我一百万英镑，让我住在伦敦，我也绝不愿意。”蒙塔古爵士说道，“在这里，我可以享受旧世界的宁静气氛，可是，唉，这种宁静，在现在这种熙熙攘攘的年头，大家早已忘在脑后了。”
这时候，我心中突然有一种奇想，如果真有人愿意出一百万英镑给蒙塔古爵士，他也许会把那旧世界的宁静抛到后面去了，但我赶紧压抑住了这种情绪。
“钱是什么东西呢？”威德伯恩夫人低语道。
“啊！”威德伯恩先生若有所思地说着，浸不经心地将湃袋里的钱摇得哗哗直响。
“查尔斯！”威德伯思夫人责备地说。
“对不起。”威德伯思先生说着，停止了摇动。
“说起在这种氛围下做坏事，我觉得真是不可饶恕。”波洛深有感触地说。
“没什么”蒙塔古爵士很优雅地摆摆手，犯罪可以是一项艺术品，探可能是一个艺术家。我所指的当然不是警察。今天有一位警督来到这里，是一个很奇怪的人，如说他从未听说过切利尼这个人。”
“他是来调查简•威尔金森一案的，想。”威德伯恩夫人立刻充满好奇心地说。
“昨晚男爵夫人幸好是在您府上。”
“看起来是这样的。”蒙塔古爵士说，“我请她来是因为我知道她很美丽，而且多才多艺，希望我能对她有所帮助。她正在考虑经商。但我是命中注定要在另一方面对她有所帮助。”
“简的运气很好。”威德伯恩夫人说，“她一直在想摆脱埃奇韦尔男爵。现在有人为她除去了障碍，而且省去了麻烦。她现在要嫁给年轻的默顿公爵了。人人都在这么说。他的妈妈简直气疯了。”
“我对她的印象很好。”蒙塔古爵士和蔼地说，“她对于希腊艺术说过很多很有见地的话。”
想起简用她那低哑的声音说着“是的”或者“不”。“真的！多了不起！”之类的话，我心中暗自好笑。对于蒙塔古爵士这种人，一个聪明的人就得洗耳恭听，并表示适当的注意。
“埃奇韦尔是个古怪的人。”威德伯恩先生说，“我敢说，他总有几个敌人吧。”
“波洛先生，这是真的”，威德伯思夫人说，“真有人将刀子刺人他的后脑吗？”
“是真的，夫人。干得干净利落——其实可以说很科学。”
“我注意到您是很有艺术品味的，波洛先生。”蒙塔古爵士说。
“那么，现在，”波洛说，“让我步人正题吧。听说埃奇韦尔夫人在这儿用晚餐的时候，有人请她接电话。我的来意就是要凋查一些关于那个电话的事。也许您能允许我与贵府的仆人谈谈这个问题吧？”
“当然可以，当然可以。罗斯，请按一下那铃，好吗？”
管家应声而人。他是一位身材高大的中年人，外表颇有些教会派头。蒙塔古爵士将波洛的意思向他说明了，他便转向波洛，很有札貌地注意着他的话。
“当电话铃响起的时候，谁去接的电话？”波洛开始I同道。
“先生，是我亲自接的。电话机是在通往大厅的过道处。”
“那打电话的人要和埃奇韦尔夫人讲话，还是和简•威尔金森小姐？”
“是埃奇韦尔夫人。先生。”
“他们的确这样说的？”
管家想了片刻。
“我记得是这样的，先生。我说。‘您好。’那边有个声音问是不是齐西克43434。我回答是。那边便让我等一下。然后另一个声音问是不是齐西克43434。待我回答‘是’后，那边问道，‘埃奇韦尔夫人在那里进餐吗？’我说夫人是在这里用餐。那个声音说。‘我想同埃奇韦尔夫人讲话，请通知她。’我就去通报正在用餐的夫人。夫人站起来，我就带她到电话机处。”
“然后呢？”
“夫人拿起电话听筒问。‘您好，请问是哪一位？’然后她说：‘是的——对。我是埃奇韦尔夫人。’我正要离开的时候，夫人便叫住我说电话断了。她说听到有人大笑，不用说一定是挂断了。她问我是谁。有没有通报姓名。而对方并没有说。这就是事情的经过，先生。”
波洛皱着眉。
“您真的认为那电话与谋杀有关吗？波洛先生。”威德伯恩夫人问道。
“不好说，夫人。这只是一件很怪的事。”
“有时是有人打电话开玩笑的。有人就和我开过这样的玩笑。”
“这总是可能的，夫人。”
他又与管家说话。
“打电话的是男，还是女？”
“我想是一位女士，先生。”
“什么样的声音，是高还是低？”
“很低，先生。很小心，而且也相当清楚。”他顿了顿，“这可能只是我的奇想，先生，听起来好像是个外国人的声音，里面的R音很重。”
“照这么说，也许是苏格兰口音吧，唐纳德。”威德伯恩夫人笑着对罗斯说。
罗斯大笑。
“我无罪，”他说，“我当时在餐桌上。”
波洛又一次和管家说话。
“你认为，”他问道，“如果你再一次听到那声音，你会识别出来吗？”
管家犹豫了一下。
“我不敢确切地说，先生，也许可以吧。我想我也许可以识别出来。”
“谢谢你。我的朋友。”
“谢谢，先生。”
管家低头告退，始终一副高僧派头。
蒙塔古。科纳爵士仍然很亲切，继续扮演那个赞美旧世界魔力的人。他劝我们留下来打桥牌。我婉辞了一因为我嫌赌注太大。年轻的罗斯看见有人接替了。似乎也觉得轻松不少。他们另外四个人打牌，我和罗斯在一旁观战。那一晚就这样度过的。波洛和蒙塔古爵士赢了不少钱。
于是我们告辞了。罗斯和载们一起出来。
“真是一个奇怪的人物。”我们迈步出来，走人夜色中。
夜晚天气很好，我们决定先走一会再叫出租车，而不是打电话先叫车。
“是的，真是一个奇怪的男人。”波洛又一次说。
“一个很有钱的人物。”罗斯深有感触地说。
“我想是这样的。”
“他好像对我很有好感。”罗斯说，“我希望这能持久。有这样的人在后面支待很重要。”
“罗斯先生，您是一位演员吗？”
罗斯说他是。他似乎很不愉快，因为我们没有马上认出他来。很显然，他最近演了一部由俄文译过来的情节很悲惨的剧本，引起了极大的注意。
当波洛和我设法让他的情绪缓和下来后，波洛漫不经心地问；
“您认识卡洛塔•亚当斯，是吗？”
“不认识。我是从今天晚报上看到她的名字的。服用了过量的毒品一类的东西。这些女孩总傻傻地这样做。”
“是的。很悲哀。但她却很聪明。”
“我想是这样的。”
他表现出除了自己的表演以外，对别人的一切都漠不关心的样子。
“您看过她演的戏吗？”我问道。
“没有。她那类表演和我不是一路子。现在好像很火。但我想不会持久的。”
“啊！”波洛说：“这里有一辆出租车。”
他挥动着手杖。
“我想我要步行。”罗斯说，“我想从哈默史密斯车站坐地铁直接回家。”
突然间，他很紧张地笑了。
“很奇怪的事情，”他说道，“昨晚的那场晚宴。”
“怎么？”
“我们总共十三个人。有一位客人因故临时未到。我们直到席终才注意到这一点。”
“是谁最先离席的？”我问道。
他格格地发出一种奇怪而兴奋的笑声。
“是我。”他说。
Chapter 16 Mainly Discussion讨论
Chapter 16 Mainly Discussion
When we got home we found Japp waiting for us.
‘Thought I’d just call round and have a chat with you before turning in, M. Poirot,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Eh bien, my good friend, how goes it?’
‘Well, it doesn’t go any too well. And that’s a fact.’
He looked distressed.
‘Got any help for me, M. Poirot?’
‘I have one or two little ideas that I should like to present to you,’ said Poirot.
‘You and your ideas! In some ways, you know, you’re a caution. Not that I don’t want to hear them. I do. There’s some good stuff in that funny-shaped head of yours.’
Poirot acknowledged the compliment somewhat coldly.
‘Have you any ideas about the double lady problem - that’s what I want to know? Eh, M. Poirot? What about it? Who was she?’
‘That is exactly what I wish to talk to you about.’
He asked Japp if he had ever heard of Carlotta Adams.
‘I’ve heard the name. For the moment I can’t just place it.’
Poirot explained.
‘Her! Does imitations does she? Now what made you fix on her? What have you got to go on?’
Poirot related the steps we had taken and the conclusion we had drawn.
‘By the Lord, it looks as though you were right. Clothes, hat, gloves, etc., and the fair wig. Yes, it must be. I will say - you’re the goods, M. Poirot. Smart work, that! Not that I think there’s anything to show she was put out of the way. That seems a bit far fetched. I don’t quite see eye to eye with you there. Your theory is a bit fantastical for me. I’ve more experience than you have. I don’t believe in this villain-behind-the-scenes motif. Carlotta Adams was the woman all right, but I should put it one of two ways. She went there for purposes of her own - blackmail, maybe, since she hinted she was going to get money. They had a bit of a dispute. He turned nasty, she turned nasty, and she finished him off. And I should say that when she got home she went all to pieces. She hadn’t meant murder. It’s my belief she took an overdose on purpose as the easiest way out.’
‘You think that covers all the facts?’
‘Well, naturally there are a lot of things we don’t know yet. It’s a good working hypothesis to go on with. The other explanation is that the hoax and the murder had nothing to do with each other. It’s just a damned queer coincidence.’
Poirot did not agree, I knew. But he merely said noncommittally:
‘Mais oui, c’est possible.’
‘Or, look here, how’s this? The hoax is innocent enough. Someone gets to hear of it and thinks it will suit their purpose jolly well. That’s not a bad idea?’ He paused and went on: ‘But personally I prefer idea No. 1. What the link was between his lordship and the girl we’ll find out somehow or other.’
Poirot told him of the letter to America posted by the maid, and Japp agreed that that might possibly be of great assistance.
‘I’ll get on to that at once,’ he said, making a note of it in his little book.
‘I’m the more in favour of the lady being the killer because I can’t find anyone else,’ he said, as he put the book away. ‘Captain Marsh, now, his lordship as now is. He’s got a motive sticking out a yard. A bad record too. Hard up and none too scrupulous over money. What’s more he had a row with his uncle yesterday morning. He told me that himself as a matter of fact - which rather takes the taste out of it. Yes, he’d be a likely customer. But he’s got an alibi for yesterday evening. He was at the opera with the Dortheimers. Rich Jews. Grosvenor Square. I’ve looked into that and it’s all right. He dined with them, went to the opera and they went on to supper at Sobranis. So that’s that.’
‘And Mademoiselle?’
‘The daughter, you mean? She was out of the house too. Dined with some people called Carthew West. They took her to the opera and saw her home afterwards. Quarter to twelve she got in. That disposes of her. The secretary woman seems all right - very efficient decent woman. Then there’s the butler. I can’t say I take to him much. It isn’t natural for a man to have good looks like that. There’s something fishy about him - and something odd about the way he came to enter Lord Edgware’s service. Yes, I’m checking up on him all right. I can’t see any motive for murder, though.’
‘No fresh facts have come to light?’
‘Yes, one or two. It’s hard to say whether they mean anything or not. For one thing, Lord Edgware’s key’s missing.’
‘The key to the front door?’
‘Yes.’
‘That is interesting, certainly.’
‘As I say, it may mean a good deal or nothing at all. Depends. What is a bit more significant to my mind is this. Lord Edgware cashed a cheque yesterday - not a particularly large one - a hundred pounds as a matter of fact. He took the money in French notes - that’s why he cashed the cheque, because of his journey to Paris today. Well, that money has disappeared.’
‘Who told you of this?’
‘Miss Carroll. She cashed the cheque and obtained the money. She mentioned it to me, and then I found that it had gone.’
‘Where was it yesterday evening?’
‘Miss Carroll doesn’t know. She gave it to Lord Edgware about half-past three. It was in a bank envelope. He was in the library at the time. He took it and laid it down beside him on a table.’
‘That certainly gives one to think. It is a complication.’
‘Or a simplification. By the way - the wound.’
‘Yes?’
‘The doctor says it wasn’t made by an ordinary penknife. Something of that kind but a different shaped blade. And it was amazingly sharp.’
‘Not a razor?’
‘No, no. Much smaller.’
Poirot frowned thoughtfully.
‘The new Lord Edgware seems to be fond of his joke,’ remarked Japp. ‘He seems to think it amusing to be suspected of murder. He made sure we did suspect him of murder, too. Looks a bit queer, that.’
‘It might be merely intelligence.’
‘More likely guilty conscience. His uncle’s death came very pat for him. He’s moved into the house, by the way.’
‘Where was he living before?’
‘Martin Street, St George’s Road. Not a very swell neighbourhood.’
‘You might make a note of that, Hastings.’
I did so, though I wondered a little. If Ronald had moved to Regent Gate, his former address was hardly likely to be needed.
‘I think the Adams girl did it,’ said Japp, rising. ‘A fine bit of work on your part, M. Poirot, to tumble to that. But there, of course, you go about to theatres and amusing yourself. Things strike you that don’t get the chance of striking me. Pity there’s no apparent motive, but a little spade work will soon bring it to light, I expect.’
‘There is one person with a motive to whom you have given no attention,’ remarked Poirot.
‘Who’s that, sir?’
‘The gentleman who is reputed to have wanted to marry Lord Edgware’s wife. I mean the Duke of Merton.’
‘Yes. I suppose there is a motive.’ Japp laughed. ‘But a gentleman in his position isn’t likely to do murder. And anyway, he’s over in Paris.’
‘You do not regard him as a serious suspect, then?’
‘Well, M. Poirot, do you?’
And laughing at the absurdity of the idea, Japp left us.

第十六章 讨论
我们回到家以后，发现贾普正等着我们。
“我想来和你们聊聊再回去，波洛先生。”他兴致很高地说。
“那么，我的朋友，案子进展如何？”
“晤，没有很大进展。这是事实。”
他看起来很失望的样子。
“波洛先生，能帮我什么忙吗？”
“我有一两个想法，想与你谈谈。”波洛说。
“你的想法！你知道，从某些方面讲你是个让人刮目相看的人。不是我不想听，我是很想听。你的奇形怪状的脑袋里是有些好的想法。”
波洛很冷谈地对这恭维表示接受了。
“关于那个双重案件，你有何高见？这是我很想知道的。啊！波洛先生，怎么回事？她是谁？”
“这正是我想和你说的。”
他同贾普是否听过卡洛塔•亚当斯这个名字。
“我听说过。不过目前我记不起来了。”
波洛解释一下。
“是她啊！她专门模仿别人，是不是？那么，你怎么会肯定是她？有什么根据让你这样想呢？”
波洛将他调查的几个步骤讲给他听，并将自己的结论告诉他。
“天哪！看起来好像你是对的。衣服、帽子、手套等等，还有那金黄色的假发。是的，想必是这样。波洛先生，你真有本事！调查得真不错！我并不认为可以证明有人要杀她灭口。好像有点牵强附会。在这一点上，我和你的想法不一致。你的理论有点过于想象丰富了。我的经验比你多。我不相信有幕后坏蛋操纵的说法。不错，卡洛塔是凶手。但是我认为有两种可能。她去那里是有自己的目的的一也许是敲诈，因为，她曾经暗示她要赚一笔钱。他们可能争吵起来。他发怒了，她也气了，于是，她就把他杀了。我认为，她回家的时候就完全崩溃了。因为她本没打算杀人的，所以我认为她是故意吃下过量的佛罗那，可以很容易地解脱。”
“你认为这就可以解释所有的事实吗？”
“晤。当然还有许多事情我们还不知道。不过，这是一个很好的假定，可以以此为依据。另外一个解释就是捉弄人和凶杀根本是无关的事，只是他妈的巧合而已。”
波洛不同意这种观点，我是知道的。但是他只是含糊地说，
“是的，这是可能的。”
“或者，你听我说，看看这样解释如何？就捉弄而言，它的动机只是好玩，并无犯罪企图。但是有人偶然听到了，认为这正符合他们的目的。这不是一个坏想法吧？”他顿了一下，又接着说，“但是，就我个人而言，我宁可采纳第一种说法。至于男爵先生与那女孩子之间有何关系，我们总可以设法调查出来的。”
波洛将女仆寄出的那封写到美国的信的事说给贾普听，他也认为这可能对破案大有帮助。
“我马上着手调查这个。”贾普说着，在他的小本子上记了下来。
“我比较赞成那女子就是凶手的说法，因为我找不到另外可以怀疑的人。”他说着，将小本子收好，说，“至于说马什上尉，现在的男爵，他是有杀人动机的，这一点很清楚。同时，他以前也有不良记录。他穷得要命，而且对于金钱很马虎。何况他昨天还和他叔叔吵了一架。这是他亲口告诉我的。我觉得这就显得相当卑鄙了。是的，他可能是凶手。但是，他可以挺出当时不在现场的证据，那一天晚上，他与多赛默一家人在歌剧院里。他们是很富有的犹太人。在格歹夫诺：“场。我调查过了，这是真的。他同他们一块去吃饭，然后去听歌剧。散场之后，他们又去索布兰尼斯饭店吃饭。情形就是这样的。”
“那位小姐呢？”
“你是指男爵女儿吗？她那天晚上也不在家。她同卡休。韦斯特一家人出去吃饭。他们带她去歌剧院，散场以后送她回家。她进门的时候是十二点差一刻。这么说来，她可以脱开干系了。那个女秘书似乎没有不安——她是个很能干、相当不错的女人。还有那个管家。我也不敢说很喜欢他。一个男子很漂亮是很反常的。这个人靠不住。他受雇于埃奇韦尔公馆的情形也很奇怪。是的，我正在调查他的一切。不过，我还看不出他有什么杀人动机。”
“你还有什么新发现吗？”
“有的，一两件。很难说是否能证明什么。有一件事是，埃奇韦尔男爵的钥匙丢了。”
“大门的钥匙吗？”
“是的。”
“这的确是很有趣的。”
“我说过的，也许会有意义，也许根本不重要。要看情形了。我认为比较重要的事是这一个。埃奇韦尔男爵昨天兑现了一张支票——并不是一笔很大的款项——其实只有一百英镑。他兑换成法郎现钞。他兑钱的原因是他准备今天去巴黎。可是，那笔款子不见了。”
“这是谁对你说的？”
“卡罗尔小姐。是她兑的支票，换的钱。她向我提起这事，我发现钱没有了。”
“咋天晚上，钱在哪儿？”
“卡罗尔小姐不知道。她在三点半钟的时候将钱给了埃奇韦尔男爵。钱是封在一个银行的封套里。那时候，他在书房。他将钱接了过去，放在身旁的桌子上。”
“这自然让人要想一想了。真是个复杂的事儿。”
“或者是筒单的事儿。顺便说一句——关于那个伤口的问题。”
“怎么？”
“医生说不是普通的刀所刺的。那种刀必定锐利惊人。”
“不是剃须刀吧？”
“不是，不是，要比剃须刀小得多。”
波洛皱眉苦思。
“新埃奇韦尔男爵似乎很爱开玩笑。”贾普说道，“我们。怀疑他是凶手。他反倒觉得很有意思。他甚至一定要我们怀疑他是凶手。看起来怪怪的。”
“这也许是聪明的手段。”
“更有可能是良心发现。他叔叔的死亡，他正有利。谈起这个，知道吗？他己经搬进来了。”
“他以前住在哪儿？”
“住在马丁街，乔治路。并不是一个很好的地区。”
“黑斯廷斯，请将这个记下来。”
我虽然有些不解，但还是记了下来。我在想，既然罗纳德已经住进了摄政门，他过去的地址似乎没有什么用处了。
“我认为是那个姓亚当斯的女孩干的。”贾普说着，站了起来，“波洛先生，你这一方面的成绩也不错，居然碰巧找到了这个线索。但是，你只注意戏院和娱乐方面的消息。那一类十是不会引起我的注意的。可惜找不出什么杀人动机，不过我相信再深一步挖掘一番，就会真相大白的。”
“还有一个人有杀人动机，但你没有注意。”波洛说道。
“先生，那是谁呢？”
“那位传说要娶埃奇韦尔男爵夫人的先生。我是指默顿公爵。”
“是的，我想他是有动机的。”贾普大笑说，“但是在那个位置上的人恐怕不可能行凶吧？而且，不管怎么说，他远在巴黎呢。”
“那么，你不把他列为怀疑对象了？”
“晤，波洛先生，你呢？”
于是，笑着这想法的荒诞，贾普告辞了。
Chapter 17 The Butler管家
Chapter 17 The Butler
The following day was one of inactivity for us, and activity for Japp. He came round to see us about teatime.
He was red and wrathful.
‘I’ve made a bloomer.’
‘Impossible, my friend,’ said Poirot soothingly.
‘Yes, I have. I’ve let that (here he gave way to profanity) - of a butler slip through my fingers.’
‘He has disappeared?’
‘Yes. Hooked it. What makes me kick myself for a double-dyed idiot is that I didn’t particularly suspect him.’
‘Calm yourself - but calm yourself then.’
‘All very well to talk. You wouldn’t be calm if you’d been hauled over the coals at headquarters. Oh! he’s a slippery customer. It isn’t the first time he’s given anyone the slip. He’s an old hand.’
Japp wiped his forehead and looked the picture of misery. Poirot made sympathetic noises - somewhat suggestive of a hen laying an egg. With more insight into the English character, I poured out a stiff whisky and soda and placed it in front of the gloomy inspector. He brightened a little.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind if I do.’
Presently he began to talk more cheerfully.
‘I’m not so sure even now that he’s the murderer! Of course it looks bad his bolting this way, but there might be other reasons for that. I’d begun to get on to him, you see. Seems he’s mixed up with a couple of disreputable night clubs. Not the usual thing. Something a great deal more recherché and nasty. In fact, he’s a real bad hat.’
‘Tout de même, that does not necessarily mean that he is a murderer.’
‘Exactly! He may have been up to some funny business or other, but not necessarily murder. No, I’m more than ever convinced it was the Adams girl. I’ve got nothing to prove it as yet, though. I’ve had men going all through her flat today, but we’ve found nothing that’s helpful. She was a canny one. Kept no letters except a few business ones about financial contracts. They’re all neatly docketed and labelled. Couple of letters from her sister in Washington. Quite straight and above-board. One or two pieces of good old-fashioned jewellery - nothing new or expensive. She didn’t keep a diary. Her pass-book and cheque-book don’t show anything helpful. Dash it all, the girl doesn’t seem to have had any private life at all!’
‘She was of a reserved character,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘From our point of view that is a pity.’
‘I’ve talked to the woman who did for her. Nothing there. I’ve been and seen that girl who keeps a hat shop and who, it seems, was a friend of hers.’
‘Ah! and what do you think of Miss Driver?’
‘She seemed a smart wide-awake bit of goods. She couldn’t help me, though. Not that that surprises me. The amount of missing girls I’ve had to trace and their family and their friends always say the same things. “She was of a bright and affectionate disposition and had no men friends.” That’s never true. It’s unnatural. Girls ought to have men friends. If not there’s something wrong with them. It’s the muddle-headed loyalty of friends and relations that makes a detective’s life so difficult.’
He paused for want of breath, and I replenished his glass.
‘Thank you, Captain Hastings, I don’t mind if I do. Well, there you are. You’ve got to hunt and hunt about. There’s about a dozen young men she went out to supper and danced with, but nothing to show that one of them meant more than another. There’s the present Lord Edgware, there’s Mr Bryan Martin, the film star, there’s half a dozen others - but nothing special and particular. Your man behind idea is all wrong. I think you’ll find that she played a lone hand, M. Poirot. I’m looking now for the connection between her and the murdered man. That must exist. I think I’ll have to go over to Paris. There was Paris written in that little gold box, and the late Lord Edgware ran over to Paris several times last Autumn, so Miss Carroll tells me, attending sales and buying curios. Yes, I think I must go over to Paris. Inquest’s tomorrow. It’ll be adjourned, of course. After that I’ll take the afternoon boat.’
‘You have a furious energy, Japp. It amazes me.’
‘Yes, you’re getting lazy. You just sit here and think! What you call employing the little grey cells. No good, you’ve got to go out to things. They won’t come to you.’
The little maidservant opened the door.
‘Mr Bryan Martin, sir. Are you busy or will you see him?’
‘I’m off, M. Poirot.’ Japp hoisted himself up. ‘All the stars of the theatrical world seem to consult you.’
Poirot shrugged a modest shoulder, and Japp laughed.
‘You must be a millionaire by now, M. Poirot. What do you do with the money? Save it?’
‘Assuredly I practise the thrift. And talking of the disposal of money, how did Lord Edgware dispose of his?’
‘Such property as wasn’t entailed he left to his daughter. Five hundred to Miss Carroll. No other bequests. Very simple will.’
‘And it was made - when?’
‘After his wife left him - just over two years ago. He expressly excludes her from participation, by the way.’
‘A vindictive man,’ murmured Poirot to himself.
With a cheerful ‘So long,’ Japp departed.
Bryan Martin entered. He was faultlessly attired and looked extremely handsome. Yet I thought that he looked haggard and not too happy.
‘I am afraid I have been a long time coming, M. Poirot,’ he said apologetically. ‘And, after all, I have been guilty of taking up your time for nothing.’
‘En verité?’
‘Yes. I have seen the lady in question. I’ve argued with her, pleaded with her, but all to no purpose. She won’t hear of my interesting you in the matter. So I’m afraid we’ll have to let the thing drop. I’m very sorry - very sorry to have bothered you -’
‘Du tout - du tout,’ said Poirot genially. ‘I expected this.’
‘Eh?’ The young man seemed taken aback.
‘You expected this?’ he asked in a puzzled way.
‘Mais oui. When you spoke of consulting your friend - I could have predicted that all would have arrived as it has done.’
‘You have a theory, then?’
‘A detective, M. Martin, always has a theory. It is expected of him. I do not call it a theory myself. I say that I have a little idea. That is the first stage.’
‘And the second stage?’
‘If the little idea turns out to be right - then I know! It is quite simple, you see.’
‘I wish you’d tell me what your theory - or your little idea - is?’
Poirot shook his head gently.
‘That is another rule. The detective never tells.’
‘Can’t you suggest it even?’
‘No. I will only say that I formed my theory as soon as you mentioned a gold tooth.’
Bryan Martin stared at him.
‘I’m absolutely bewildered,’ he declared. ‘I can’t make out what you are driving at. If you’d just give me a hint.’
Poirot smiled and shook his head.
‘Let us change the subject.’
‘Yes, but first - your fee - you must let me.’
Poirot waved an imperious hand.
‘Pas un sou! I have done nothing to aid you.’
‘I took up your time -’
‘When a case interests me, I do not touch money. Your case interested me very much.’
‘I’m glad,’ said the actor uneasily.
He looked supremely unhappy.
‘Come,’ said Poirot kindly. ‘Let us talk of something else.’
‘Wasn’t that the Scotland Yard man whom I met on the stairs?’
‘Yes, Inspector Japp.’
‘The light was so dim, I wasn’t sure. By the way, he came round and asked me some questions about that poor girl, Carlotta Adams, who died of an overdose of veronal.’
‘You knew her well - Miss Adams?’
‘Not very well. I knew her as a child in America. I came across her here once or twice but I never saw very much of her. I was very sorry to hear of her death.’
‘You liked her?’
‘Yes. She was extraordinarily easy to talk to.’
‘A personality very sympathetic - yes, I found the same.’
‘I suppose they think it might be suicide? I knew nothing that could help the inspector. Carlotta was always very reserved about herself.’
‘I do not think it was suicide,’ said Poirot.
‘Far more likely to be an accident, I agree.’
There was a pause.
Then Poirot said with a smile:
‘The affair of Lord Edgware’s death becomes intriguing, does it not?’
‘Absolutely amazing. Do you know - have they any idea - who did it - now that Jane is definitely out of it?’
‘Mais oui - they have a very strong suspicion.’
Bryan Martin looked excited.
‘Really? Who?’
‘The butler has disappeared. You comprehend - flight is as good as a confession.’
‘The butler! Really, you surprise me.’
‘A singularly good-looking man. Il vous ressemble un peu.’ He bowed in a complimentary fashion.
Of course! I realized now why the butler’s face had struck me as being faintly familiar when I first saw it.
‘You flatter me,’ said Bryan Martin with a laugh.
‘No, no, no. Do not all the young girls, the servant girls, the flappers, the typists, the girls of society, do they not all adore M. Bryan Martin? Is there one who can resist you?’
‘A lot, I should think,’ said Martin. He got up abruptly.
‘Well, thank you very much, M. Poirot. Let me apologize again for having troubled you.’
He shook hands with us both. Suddenly, I noticed he looked much older. The haggard look was more apparent.
I was devoured with curiosity, and as soon as the door closed behind him, I burst out with what I wanted to know.
‘Poirot, did you really expect him to come back and relinquish all idea of investigating those queer things that happened to him in America?’
‘You heard me say so, Hastings.’
‘But then-’ I followed the thing out logically.
‘Then you must know who this mysterious girl is that he had to consult?’
He smiled.
‘I have a little idea, my friend. As I told you, it started from the mention of the gold tooth, and if my little idea is correct, I know who the girl is, I know why she will not let M. Martin consult me. I know the truth of the whole affair. And so could you know it if you would only use the brains the good God has given you. Sometimes I really am tempted to believe that by inadvertence He passed you by.’

第十七章 管家
第二天，我们无事可做，贾普却忙得热火朝天。大约在下午茶的时候，他来看我们。
他气得满脸通红。
“我真是犯了个大错误。”
“不可能吧，我的朋友。”波洛安慰地说道。
“是的，大失误。我让那个（他忍不住了，用了一个脏字）——管家从手上溜了。”
“他不见了吗？”
“是的，逃掉了。害得我直打自己的嘴巴，直骂自己是双料傻瓜，因为我竟然没有特别怀疑他。”
“那么，你先镇定——镇定一下。”
“话是不错。如果是你要在总局被申斥一顿，你会镇定下来吗？啊，他是个不容易抓到的家伙。他这样溜掉不是第一次了。他是一个老手。”
贾普擦了擦他额头上的汗，一脸痛苦的样子。波洛发出同情的声音，使人联想到老母鸡生蛋的声响。我对英国人的个性了如指掌，所以我就倒了一杯浓烈的威士忌苏打，放在满面愁容的警督面前。他这才高兴了一点。
“唉”，他说，“我还是别太在意了。”
于是，他说话的兴致又高了起来。
“就是现在，我也不能肯定他就是杀人凶手。当然，他这样逃跑必定有他的原因，但也许还有其它原因。你知道，我已经了解了他的情形。他好像与几个名声很差的夜总会有牵扯。并非普通的来往。他们所干的事很不寻常，很卑鄙的事。他就是那种非比寻常的、卑鄙的人。”
“然而，这并非说他就是凶手。”
“一点儿也不错。他也许有些可疑的举动，但不一定是犯了凶杀案。是的，我更相信是那个姓亚当斯的女孩干的。尽管我还没办法证明这个。今天我让手下搜查了她的公寓，但没发现任何有用的东西。她是一个很机灵的人。除了一些有关商业合同的信函外，她没留任何其它信件。这些商业信函——一附有标签和摘要。有几封是她妹妹从华盛顿寄来的。从表面上看都是正大光明的。还找到一两件很好的旧式珠宝——不新也不贵重。她并不记日记。她的护照和支票簿没有一点线索可寻。他妈的！这个女孩似乎一点私生活也没有。”
“她的性格属保守型的。”波洛思索着说，“从我们的观点看，这是一个遗憾。”
“我同那个侍候她的女人谈过了，得不到任何线索。我也到那个开帽店的女人那儿查询过了，她似乎是她的朋友。”
“啊！你对德赖弗小姐印象如何？”
“她似乎是个很聪明、头脑相当冷静的人。不过，她对我也没什么帮助。但是，我不觉得奇怪。我以前因为工作需要，必须寻找许多失踪女子，这些女子的亲属或朋友总是说同样的话：‘她的性格爽朗，举止可爱，没有男朋友。’其实从未正确过。很反常的。女孩子应该有男朋友才对，要是没有，她自已一定有毛病。就是这些头脑不清楚的亲戚、朋友让侦探的日子这样难过。”
他停下来，喘了一口气。我重新为他添酒。
“谢谢你，黑斯廷斯上尉，我再喝一点也不要紧。唉，就是这样。你不得不四处寻查。曾同她一块出去跳舞、吃饭的年轻人能有一打，但没有一个和她有较深交情的。其中有现任埃奇韦尔男爵，布赖恩•马丁先生——那个电影明星，还有其他几个，也没有什么特别的。你那种幕后有人操纵的想法是错的。我认为你会发现是她独自干的。波洛先生，我现在正在寻找她与被害人的联系。一定有联系。我要去巴黎。那个小金匣上刻着巴黎的字样，已故的埃奇韦尔男爵去年秋天去过巴黎几次，这是卡罗尔小姐对载说的。他是到那里去看拍卖，购买古董的。是的，我想我必须到巴黎一趟。明。天本来要开庭调查的，不得不宣布延期了。过后我要搭下午的船去巴黎。”
“贾普，你的精力如此旺盛，令我赞叹。”
“是啊，可你却越来越偷懒了。你只坐在这里想，你把这称为脑细胞运动。这是没有用的。你得四处走走才能解决问题。答案是不会从天上掉下来的。”
这时候，我们的小女仆开门进来。
“先生，布赖恩•马丁求见。您是否愿意见他？”
“波洛先生，走了。”贾普站起来说，好像戏剧界所有的明星都来请教你了。”
波洛谦逊地耸耸肩。贾普大笑。
“波洛先生。你现在一定成了百万富翁了。怎么处置你的钱？存起来吗？”
“我是极为俭朴的。谈到如何处理钱的问题，埃奇韦尔的钱财是怎么处理的？”
“没有指定继承人的财产全部给他的女儿。给卡罗尔小姐五百镑。没有其他的遗赠人了。遗嘱很简单。”
“遗嘱是什么时候立的？”
“两年前——他妻子离开他的时候。附带再说一句，他在遗嘱里特别声明，将她除外。”
“真是一个喜欢报复的人。”波洛低声地自言自语道。
贾普道着“再见”，爽快地离开了。
布赖恩•马丁走了进来。他今天衣冠楚楚，特别英俊，但是我觉得他面容倦怠，并不开心。
“波洛先生，我本该早来的，”他歉意地说。“但我还是让你白白地等了好长时间，很内疚。”
“真的吗？”
“是的。我已经与提到的那位女士见了面。我与她争论，请求她，但毫无结果。她不愿意让我请你调查。所以这事，我恐怕要不谈算了。我很抱歉——很抱歉麻烦你。”
“没什么，没什么。”，波洛和蔼地说，“我早己料到了。”
“呃？”那个年轻人好像很吃惊。
“你早已料到了？”他迷惑不解地问道。
“是的。当你说要与你的朋友商量时——我就已经料到是这种结局的。”
“那么，你有一个假定吗？”
“马丁先生，一个侦探遇到案子时，总有一个假定。这是他的本分。我自己并不叫它假定。我说我有一点想法。这是第一阶段。”
“那么第二阶段呢？”
“假如我的一点想法是对的，那么我就清楚了。你看，这很简单。”
“我希望你能告诉我你的假想——或者是想法，是什么？”
波洛和善地摇摇头。
“这是另一个规则，侦探不多说的。”
“甚至暗示也不行吗？”
“不行。我只能说你一提到金牙，我就有了自己的假想了。”
布赖恩•马丁盯着他。
“我简直糊涂了”，他说道，“我不知道你在指什么。你就不能来点暗示吗？”
波洛笑着摇了摇头。
“我们换个话题吧。”
“是的，但首先——你的费用问题——一你得让我来付。”
波洛大方地摆摆手。
“一分钱也不要。我并未做任何事情帮助你。”
“可我占用了你的时间。”
“当我对一个案子感兴趣时，我不收一分钱。你的案子让我很感兴趣。”
“那我很高兴。”演员很不安地说。
他看起来却是愁容满面。
“来，”波洛友善地说，“让我们谈点别的吧。”
“我在楼梯上遇到的是伦敦警察厅的人吧？”
“是的，是贾普警督。”
“灯光很暗，我没敢断定。顺便说一下，他曾来问我一些关于那个可怜的姑娘——卡洛塔•亚当斯的问题。她服了过量的佛罗那死的。”
“你与亚当斯小姐——很熟吗？”
“不很熟。在美国，还是孩子的时候，我认识她。在这，我见过她一两次，但不常见面。听说她死了，我很悲痛。”
“你喜欢她？”
“是的，她说话很随和。”
“很有同情心的性格——是的，我也有同感。”
“我猜人们会以为她是自杀。我不能帮警督什么忙。卡洛塔自己总是很保守的。”
“我不认为是自杀。”波洛说，“我也同意，更像是意外事故。”
彼此沉默片刻。
波洛笑着开口说话。
“埃奇韦尔男爵之死一事很蹊跷，是不是”
“相当令人费解。你知道——或猜到——是谁干的吗？，简是不是完全被排除在嫌疑之外了？”
“是的——他们有一个很大的怀疑对象。”
“真的？是谁？”
“管家逃走了。你想——逃跑就等于承认自己有罪了。”
“管家！真的，你可让我吓了一跳。”
“是一个相当英俊的男子。有一点像你。”他以一种恭维的方式鞠了一个躬。
当然了。我恍然大悟，为什么第一眼望那管家的脸，我就觉得似曾相识。
“你真是恭维我、”布赖恩•马丁笑着说。
“不，不。不是的。年轻的小姐们、女仆们、摩登女郎、打字员以及社交名媛们，不都崇拜布赖恩•马丁先生吗？有谁不为你倾倒呢？”
“我想，有好多人。”马丁说着，站了起来。
“晤，波洛先生，非常感谢你。再一次向你致歉，我太麻烦你了。”
他与我们两人一一握手。突然我觉得他看起来老多了。那种憔悴的样子更明显了。
我心中充满了好奇。他走后，门一关上，我就忍不住道出我想知道的一切。
“波洛。你真的预料到他会回来并告诉你，托你调查美国发生的奇怪事情的想法作罢吗？”
“黑斯廷斯，你不是听我说过了吗？”
“可是——”我尽力按逻辑想着。
“那么你知道他与那位神秘女子谈过了？”
波洛笑了。
“我有一点想法，我的朋友。正如我对你所说过的，这件事由那个镶金牙的人谈起的。如果我的一点想法正确的话，我知道那女子是谁，我也知道为什么她不让马丁先生请教我。我知道整件事情的真相。如果你也能用用上帝赐给你的脑子想一想。你也会知道的。有时候我真觉得上帝把你疏忽了，你真太不开窍了。”
Chapter 18 The Other Man另一个人
Chapter 18 The Other Man
I do not propose to describe either the inquest on Lord Edgware or that on Carlotta Adams. In Carlotta’s case the verdict was Death by Misadventure. In the case of Lord Edgware the inquest was adjourned, after evidence of identification and the medical evidence had been given. As a result of the analysis of the stomach, the time of death was fixed as having occurred not less than an hour after the completion of dinner, with possible extension to an hour after that. This put it as between ten and eleven o’clock, with the probability in favour of the earlier time.
None of the facts concerning Carlotta’s impersonation of Jane Wilkinson were allowed to leak out. A description of the wanted butler was published in the press, and the general impression seemed to be that the butler was the man wanted. His story of Jane Wilkinson’s visit was looked upon as an impudent fabrication. Nothing was said of the secretary’s corroborating testimony. There were columns concerning the murder in all the papers, but little real information.
Meanwhile Japp was actively at work, I knew. It vexed me a little that Poirot adopted such an inert attitude. The suspicion that approaching old age had something to do with it flashed across me - not for the first time. He made excuses to me which did not ring very convincingly.
‘At my time of life one saves oneself the trouble,’ he explained.
‘But, Poirot, my dear fellow, you mustn’t think of yourself as old,’ I protested.
I felt that he needed bracing. Treatment by suggestion - that, I know, is the modern idea.
‘You are as full of vigour as ever you were,’ I said earnestly. ‘You’re in the prime of life, Poirot. At the height of your powers. You could go out and solve this case magnificently if you only would.’
Poirot replied that he preferred to solve it sitting at home.
‘But you can’t do that, Poirot.’
‘Not entirely, it is true.’
‘What I mean is, we are doing nothing! Japp is doing everything.’
‘Which suits me admirably.’
‘It doesn’t suit me at all. I want you to be doing things.’
‘So I am.’
‘What are you doing?’
‘Waiting.’
‘Waiting for what?’
‘Pour que mon chien de chasse me rapporte le gibier,’ replied Poirot with a twinkle.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean the good Japp. Why keep a dog and bark yourself ? Japp brings us here the result of the physical energy you admire so much. He has various means at his disposal which I have not. He will have news for us very soon, I do not doubt.’
By dint of persistent inquiry, it was true that Japp was slowly getting together material. He had drawn a blank in Paris, but a couple of days later he came in looking pleased with himself.
‘It’s slow work,’ he said. ‘But we’re getting somewhere at last.’
‘I congratulate you, my friend. What has happened?’
‘I’ve discovered that a fair-haired lady deposited an attaché-case in the cloak-room at Euston at nine o’clock that night. They’ve been shown Miss Adams’ case and identify it positively. It’s of American make and so just a little different.’
‘Ah! Euston. Yes, the nearest of the big stations to Regent Gate. She went there doubtless, made herself up in the lavatory, and then left the case. When was it taken out again?’
‘At half-past ten. The clerk says by the same lady.’ Poirot nodded. ‘And I’ve come on something else too. I’ve reason to believe that Carlotta Adams was in Lyons Corner House in the Strand at eleven o’clock.’
‘Ah! c’est três bien ?a! How did you come across that?’
‘Well, really more or less by chance. You see, there’s been a mention in the papers of the little gold box with the ruby initials. Some reporter wrote it up - he was doing an article on the prevalence of dope-taking among young actresses. Sunday paper romantic stuff. The fatal little gold box with its deadly contents - pathetic figure of a young girl with all the world before her! And just a wonder expressed as to where she passed her last evening and how she felt and so on and so on.
‘Well, it seems a waitress at the Corner House read this and she remembered that a lady she had served that evening had had such a box in her hand. She remembered the C.A. on it. And she got excited and began talking to all her friends - perhaps a paper would give her something?
‘A young newspaper man soon got on to it and there’s going to be a good sobstuff article in tonight’s Evening Shriek. The last hours of the talented actress. Waiting - for the man who never came - and a good bit about the actress’s sympathetic intuition that something was not well with her sister woman. You know the kind of bilge, M. Poirot?’
‘And how has it come to your ears so quickly?’
‘Oh! well, we’re on very good terms with the Evening Shriek. It got passed on to me while their particular bright young man tried to get some news out of me about something else. So I rushed along to the Corner House straight away -’
Yes, that was the way things ought to be done. I felt a pang of pity for Poirot. Here was Japp getting all this news at first hand - quite possibly missing valuable details, and here was Poirot placidly content with stale news.
‘I saw the girl - and I don’t think there’s much doubt about it. She couldn’t pick out Carlotta Adams’ photograph, but then she said she didn’t notice the lady’s face particularly. She was young and dark and slim, and very well dressed, the girl said. Had got on one of the new hats. I wish women looked at faces a bit more and hats a bit less.’
‘The face of Miss Adams is not an easy one to observe,’ said Poirot. ‘It had the mobility, the sensitiveness - the fluid quality.’
‘I daresay you’re right. I don’t go in for analysing these things. Dressed in black the lady was, so the girl said, and she had an attaché-case with her. The girl noticed that particularly, because it struck her as odd that a lady so well dressed should be carrying a case about. She ordered some scrambled eggs and some coffee, but the girl thinks she was putting in time and waiting for someone. She’d got a wrist-watch on and she kept looking at it. It was when the girl came to give her the bill that she noticed the box. The lady took it out of her handbag and had it on the table looking at it. She opened the lid and shut it down again. She was smiling in a pleased dreamy sort of way. The girl noticed the box particularly because it was such a lovely thing. “I’d like to have a gold box with my initials in rubies on it!” she said.
‘Apparently Miss Adams sat there some time after paying her bill. Then, finally, she looked at her watch once more, seemed to give it up and went out.’
Poirot was frowning.
‘It was a rendez-vous,’ he murmured. ‘A rendez-vous with someone who did not turn up. Did Carlotta Adams meet that person afterwards? Or did she fail to meet him and go home and try to ring him up? I wish I knew - oh! how I wish I knew.’
‘That’s your theory, M. Poirot. Mysterious Manin-the-Background. That Man-in-the-Background’s a myth. I don’t say she mayn’t have been waiting for someone - that’s possible. She may have made an appointment to meet someone there after her business with his lordship was settled satisfactorily. Well, we know what happened. She lost her head and stabbed him. But she’s not one to lose her head for long. She changes her appearance at the station, gets out the case, goes to the rendezvous, and then what they call the “reaction” gets her. Horror of what she’d done. And when her friend doesn’t turn up, that finished her. He may be someone who knew she was going to Regent Gate that evening. She feels the game’s up. So she takes out her little box of dope. An overdose of that and it’ll be all over. At any rate she won’t be hanged. Why, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.’
Poirot’s hand strayed doubtfully to his nose, then his fingers dropped to his moustaches. He caressed them tenderly with a proud expression.
‘There was no evidence at all of a mysterious Manin-the-Background,’ said Japp, pursuing his advantage doggedly. ‘I haven’t got evidence yet of a connection between her and his lordship, but I shall do - it’s only a question of time. I must say I’m disappointed about Paris, but nine months ago is a long time. I’ve still got someone making inquiries over there. Something may come to light yet. I know you don’t think so. You’re a pig-headed old boy, you know.’
‘You insult first my nose and then my head!’
‘Figure of speech, that’s all,’ said Japp soothingly. ‘No offence meant.’
‘The answer to that,’ I said, ‘is “nor taken.”’ Poirot looked from one to the other of us completely puzzled.
‘Any orders?’ inquired Japp facetiously from the door. Poirot smiled forgivingly at him.
‘An order, no. A suggestion - yes.’
‘Well, what is it? Out with it.’
‘A suggestion that you circularize the taxi-cabs. Find one that took a fare - or more probably two fares - yes, two fares - from the neighbourhood of Covent Garden to Regent Gate on the night of the murder. As to time it would probably be about twenty minutes to eleven.’
Japp cocked an eye alertly. He had the look of a smart terrier dog.
‘So, that’s the idea, is it?’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll do it. Can’t do any harm - and you sometimes know what you’re talking about.’
No sooner had he left than Poirot arose and with great energy began to brush his hat.
‘Ask me no questions, my friend. Instead bring me the benzine. A morsel of omelette this morning descended on my waistcoat.’
I brought it to him.
‘For once,’ I said. ‘I do not think I need to ask questions. It seems fairly obvious. But do you think it really is so?’
‘Mon ami, at the moment I concern myself solely with the toilet. If you will pardon me saying so, your tie does not please me.’
‘It’s a jolly good tie,’ I said.
‘Possibly - once. It feels the old age as you have been kind enough to say I do. Change it, I beseech you, and also brush the right sleeve.’
‘Are we proposing to call on King George?’ I inquired sarcastically.
‘No. But I saw in the newspaper this morning that the Duke of Merton had returned to Merton House. I understand he is a premier member of the English aristocracy. I wish to do him all honour.’
There is nothing of the Socialist about Poirot. ‘Why are we going to call on the Duke of Merton?’
‘I wish to see him.’
That was all I could get out of him. When my attire was at last handsome enough to please Poirot’s critical eye, we started out.
At Merton House, Poirot was asked by a footman if he had an appointment. Poirot replied in the negative. The footman bore away the card and returned shortly to say that His Grace was very sorry but he was extremely busy this morning. Poirot immediately sat down in a chair.
‘Trés bien,’ he said. ‘I wait. I will wait several hours if need be.’
This, however, was not necessary. Probably as the shortest way of getting rid of the importunate caller, Poirot was bidden to the presence of the gentleman he desired to see.
The Duke was about twenty-seven years of age. He was hardly prepossessing in appearance, being thin and weakly. He had nondescript thin hair going bald at the temples, a small bitter mouth and vague dreamy eyes. There were several crucifixes in the room and various religious works of art. A wide shelf of books seemed to contain nothing but theological works. He looked far more like a weedy young haberdasher than like a duke. He had, I knew, been educated at home, having been a terribly delicate child. This was the man who had fallen an immediate prey to Jane Wilkinson! It was really ludicrous in the extreme. His manner was priggish and his reception of us just short of courteous.
‘You may, perhaps, know my name,’ began Poirot. ‘I have no acquaintance with it.’
‘I study the psychology of crime.’
The Duke was silent. He was sitting at a writing-table, an unfinished letter before him. He tapped impatiently on the desk with his pen.
‘For what reason do you wish to see me?’ he inquired coldly.
Poirot was sitting opposite him. His back was to the window. The Duke was facing it.
‘I am at present engaged on investigating the circumstances connected with Lord Edgware’s death.’
Not a muscle of the weak but obstinate face moved.
‘Indeed? I was not acquainted with him.’
‘But you are, I think, acquainted with his wife - with Miss Jane Wilkinson?’
‘That is so.’
‘You are aware that she is supposed to have had a strong motive for desiring the death of her husband?’
‘I am really not aware of anything of the kind.’
‘I should like to ask you outright, Your Grace. Are you shortly going to marry Miss Jane Wilkinson?’
‘When I am engaged to marry anyone the fact will be announced in the newspapers. I consider your question an impertinence.’ He stood up. ‘Good morning.’
Poirot stood up also. He looked awkward. He hung his head. He stammered.
‘I did not mean . . . I . . . Je vous demande pardon . . .’
‘Good morning,’ repeated the Duke, a little louder.
This time Poirot gave it up. He made a characteristic gesture of hopelessness, and we left. It was an ignominious dismissal.
I felt rather sorry for Poirot. His usual bombast had not gone well. To the Duke of Merton a great detective was evidently lower than a black beetle.
‘That didn’t go too well,’ I said sympathetically. ‘What a stiff-necked tartar that man is. What did you really want to see him for?’
‘I wanted to know whether he and Jane Wilkinson are really going to marry.’
‘She said so.’
‘Ah! she said so. But, you realize, she is one of those who say anything that suits their purpose. She might have decided to marry him and he - poor man - might not yet be aware of the fact.’
‘Well, he certainly sent you away with a flea in the ear.’
‘He gave me the reply he would give to a reporter - yes.’ Poirot chuckled. ‘But I know! I know exactly how the case stands.’
‘How do you know? By his manner?’
‘Not at all. You saw he was writing a letter?’
‘Yes.’
‘Eh bien, in my early days in the police force in Belgium I learned that it was very useful to read handwriting upside down. Shall I tell you what he was saying in that letter? “My dearest Jane, my adored, my beautiful angel, how can I tell you what you are to me? You who have suffered so much! Your beautiful nature -”’
‘Poirot!’ I cried, scandalized, stopping him.
‘That was as far as he had got. “Your beautiful nature - only I know it.”’
I felt very upset. He was so naively pleased with his performance.
‘Poirot,’ I cried. ‘You can’t do a thing like that. Overlook a private letter.’
‘You say the imbecilities, Hastings. Absurd to say I “cannot do” a thing which I have just done!’
‘It’s not - not playing the game.’
‘I do not play games. You know that. Murder is not a game. It is serious. And anyway, Hastings, you should not use that phrase - playing the game. It is not said any more. I have discovered that. It is dead. Young people laugh when they hear it. Mais oui, young beautiful girls will laugh at you if you say “playing the game” and “not cricket”.’
I was silent. I could not bear this thing that Poirot had done so light-heartedly.
‘It was so unnecessary,’ I said. ‘If you had only told him that you had gone to Lord Edgware at Jane Wilkinson’s request, then he would have treated you very differently.’
‘Ah! but I couldn’t do that. Jane Wilkinson was my client. I cannot speak of my client’s affairs to another. I undertake a mission in confidence. To speak of it would not be honourable.’
‘Honourable!’
‘Precisely.’
‘But she’s going to marry him?’
‘That does not mean that she has no secrets from him. Your ideas about marriage are very old-fashioned. No, what you suggest, I couldn’t possibly have done. I have my honour as a detective to think of. The honour, it is a very serious thing.’
‘Well, I suppose it takes all kinds of honour to make a world.’

第十八章 另一个人
关于埃奇韦尔男爵及卡洛塔•亚当斯案件的侦讯。我不打算一一详述了。关于卡洛塔的案子，庭上裁定是过失死亡。关于埃奇韦尔男爵的案子，决定延期裁定。要等到有关认定和医学证据提供以后。根据肠胃化验结果分析，死亡时间是饭后一小时左右”就是十点到十一点之间，有可能是在早一些时侯。
关于卡洛塔假扮简•威尔金森一事，方不许泄露一点消息。报上已将通缉的管家相貌描述登在报纸上，方面印象都以为那管家是通缉的凶手。他所说的简•威尔金森来访一事纯属捏造。至于说那女秘书的证实管家所说的话，字未提。各种报纸都用很大篇幅报道这件凶杀案，并没有什么实际内容。
我知道，时候，普一定忙得不可开交。我很着急，洛采取一种丝毫不动的态度。有时候，觉得他可能真是老了一这种疑心已经不是第一次了。虽然他找了一些借口，听起来并不使人信服。
他这样解释道：“到了我这年纪，烦事能免就免。”
“可是。波洛，的好伙计，不要想自己老了啊！”我抱怨他道。
我觉得他需要鼓励。我知道——激励疗法，种现代说法。
“你精力旺盛，如当年。”我真挚地说，波洛，正值壮年，当是精力充沛的时候。只要你愿意，会一出马，将这案子漂漂亮亮地侦破了。”
波洛回答说，他宁愿坐在家中破这个案子。
“可是，波洛，你不能那么做。”
“当然，不能完全那么做。”
“我觉得，我们什么都没干；而贾普却样样都在做。”
“这正合我意。”
“可这不合我意。我要让你做些事情。”
“我是在做啊！”
“你在做什么？”
“等待。”
“等待什么？”
“等待我的猎狗嗅出猎物的痕迹啊。”波洛眨着眼睛说。
“我是指那个好贾普。为什么有猎狗，自己还要叫呢？贾普会将你所喜欢的出去活动，花费体力所得到的结果拿给我们。他做事有各种便利，而我没有。我有把握，他不久就会有好消息带来。”
不错，经过不断侦查，贾普是在一点一点收集资料。巴黎之行毫无结果。但过了几天。他又来了，看样子很得意。
“工作进展得很慢，”他说。“但最终我们有点结果了。”
“恭喜你，我的朋友。又发生了什么？”
“我发现有一位金发女郎在那天晚上九点的时候，在尤斯顿车站的衣帽间寄存了一只手提包。我们把亚当斯小姐的手提包拿给他们看，他们确认是那一只。那一只是美国制造的，所以和我们常用的有一点不同。”
“啊！尤斯顿！那是去摄政门最近的一个大站。毫无疑问。她在那儿的洗手间里化好装，然后将手提包存在那儿。那么，她什么时候去取包的呢？”
“在十点半钟。那个服务员说，是同一位女士取的。”
波洛点点头。
“我还得到了其它的消息。我有理由确信十一点的时候，卡洛塔•亚当斯在滨河街的一家叫雷恩斯。科纳的饭店里。”
“啊！这是个好消息！你怎么知道的？”
“晤，其实是偶然发现的。你想，报上登过文章提到那个镶宝石字母的金匣子。有个记者写到那个——是谈到女演员服用麻醉剂之风盛行的。常见的那种周末版浪漫材料。致命的金匣子装着致命的东西——一位大有前途的年轻女子的惨剧！里面提出疑问。她死前在哪度过的那一夜，以及她感觉如何等等。
“那么，好像是一位科纳饭店女招待读到了这篇文章。她记得那天晚上她曾伺候过一位女士，女士手里拿着那个匣子。她还记得上面刻着Ｃ•Ａ。她很兴奋，就与她所有的朋友讲这件事，也许某个报馆会出钱买她的消息。
“一位年轻的记者不久就访问到这个消息了，今天的《趣闻晚报》上就会登出一篇催人泪下的文章。一位天才女演员死前之景——等待，等待那个根本没来的人，以及女演员自己觉得与同性朋友关系不好之类的话。波洛先生，你是了解这类无聊文字的，是不是？”
“你怎么这么快就得到这消息了。”
“晤，是这样，我与《趣闻晚报》的记者关系不错。他们报馆里有一位挺聪明的年轻记者要向我打听另一个案子的消巨，无意中就透露了这个消息。所以我就立刻赶到科纳饭店——”
是的，我就是以为该这么做事的。我为波洛感到一阵惋惜。贾普正在多方面直接收集材料——虽然可能遗漏有价值的详细情况。而波洛却坐等着过时的消息，心中还满知足的。
“我见了那女子——但我没觉得她讲的有任何疑问。她可以找出卡洛塔•亚当斯的照片，但她说她没特别注意那女子的相貌。那女孩说，她很年轻。皮肤褐色，身材纤细，衣着讲究。她还戴着一顶新帽子。我真希望女招待多看看那女士的脸，少看一点她的帽子。”
“亚当斯小姐的脸是不容易认的，”波洛说，“她的脸多变，敏感，而且有一种浮动的东西。”
“我想你是对的。我不喜欢分析这类事情。那位女招待说她身着黑衣，随身带着一个手提包。那女招待之所以注意这个包，是因为她觉得很奇怪，一位衣着如此考究的人怎么带着这么个手提包走来走去。她要了一份炒蛋、一杯咖啡。不过那女招待认为她是在消磨时间，等着什么人。她戴着一块手表，不住地看着表。当女招待拿给她账单的时候，注意到了那个匣子。客人打开提包，将匣子取出来，放在桌子上看。她将盖子打开，又关上了。她带着得意的、梦幻般的表情。满脸笑容。因为那匣子非常可爱，所以女招待特别注惹到了。她说；‘我真想有一个匣子，上面用红宝石镶着我自己的名字。’”
“很显然，卡洛塔•亚当斯付了账以后又在那坐了一会。最后，她又一次看看表，好像最终决定不再等了，就走出去了。”
波洛皱着眉头。
“那是一个约会”，他低声说道，“但是约会的人没来。过后卡洛塔•亚当斯又见到那个人了吗？或者是她没见到他就自己回家了，然后又想给他打电话？我真希望自己知道，啊，但愿我知道。”
“波洛先生，只是你的假定。神奇的幕后人物。那位幕后人物是虚幻的。我并不认为她没在等人——那是可能的。她也许和什么人约好了，她同男爵的事情圆满解决后，在那里见他。那么，们知道又发生了什么事，一时失去理智杀了他。但她并非一个会长时间失去理智的人。她在车站换好外装。取出化妆箱去赴约。然后所谓犯罪后的‘反应’开始出现，对自己的行为后怕了。而她的那位朋友又没来，整个地崩溃了。那个朋友可能知道她晚上去摄政门。她觉得已露马脚，把那小匣的麻醉晶取出来。不管怎样，不会愿意被绞死的，是显而易见的事。”
波洛怀疑地用手摸着鼻子。又去摸他的胡子。他很自豪地抚弄着自己的胡子。
“关于那位神秘的‘幕后人物’，惜没有证据，贾普仍顽固地趁机大发议论，我还不能证明她与男爵的关系。但我会找到证据的一那只是时间问题。我得说，对巴黎之行极为失望，毕竞九个月前的事是太久远了点儿。我在那里仍派了个人继续查询。也许会有新发现的。我知道你不会这样认为。你知道吗？你是个顽固不化的家伙。”
“你先侮辱我的鼻子，在又是我的头脑！”
“只不过是比喻而已，贾普安慰他道，并不含有恶意。”
“要是回答的话”，我插嘴道，“是‘不会接受。’”
波洛看看他，又瞧瞧我。迷惑不解的样子。
“还有什么吩咐吗？”贾普在门口滑稽地问。波洛很宽容地对他笑了笑。
“吩咐？没有。倒是有一个建议。”
“呃？是什么？说吧。”
“我建议你将案子的事告诉司机。看看案发那天晚上有谁载过客人。或是一趟，或是两趟。去过摄政门附近的花园。是的，大概会是两趟。至于说时间，大概是在十点四十分左右。”
贾普警觉地用眼睛盯着他，活像一条机警的猎狗。
“原来是这个主意。是不是？”他说道，“好吧。我来做。没有什么坏处的——你说话有时是很有道理的。”
他刚一离开，波洛就一下子站起来，非常起劲地刷着他的帽子。
“我的朋友，别问我什么问题了。还是把清洁剂递给我吧。今天上午，有一点炒蛋弄脏了我的背心。”
我将清洁剂递给了他。
“这一次，”我说道，“我不用问了。看起来很明显的。但你真这样认为吗？”
“我的朋友啊，现在我正全心打扮呢。如果让我说的话，你的领带，我实在不敢恭维。”
“这可是一条好领带呢。”我说道。
“当然了，过去曾是。只是旧了，老了，如同你说我老了一样。换了吧，求你了。将右边的袖子再刷一刷。”
“难道我们要进官觐见国王吗？”我讥讽道。
“不是。但是今天上午报上讲，默顿公爵已经回默顿府了。我知道他是英国贵族社会中的顶尖人物，我想去表达敬意。”
波洛可不是什么社交人物。
“我们为什么要去拜访默顿公爵呢？”
“我想见他。”
我从他那能问到的就是这些了。待我换了装束，合了波洛的口味，我们就出发了。
在默顿府，门房问波洛是否预约过。波洛说没有。门房拿过去名片，很快又返回说，他的主人很抱歉，因为今天上午他很忙。波洛立即坐在一把椅子上。
“好的，”他说道，“那我就等着吧。等几个小时都行。”
然而，根本不用等了。大概打发不速之客的最好办法是马上见他，所以波洛被请人去见他要见的绅士。
公爵大约有二十七岁。因为很瘦弱，他看起来并不讨人喜欢。他长着一头难以形容的头发，两鬓秃秃的。还有一张小小的、刻薄的嘴，以及空洞、梦幻般的眼睛。房间中有好几个十字架，和各种宗教艺术品。在一个宽大的书架上，摆着的书籍，除了宗教作品以外，什么都没有。他的样子一点也不像个公爵，倒像个不中用的年轻杂货商。我知道，他是在家自己接受教育的，是一个相当幼稚的孩子。这就是一个落入简•威尔金森陷阱的人！真是可笑到极点了。他的态度很傲气，他与我们说话的态度，也略欠客气。
波洛先说话道；“您可能听说过我的名字。”
“我没听说过。”
“我研究犯罪心理。”
公爵沉默不语。他坐在写字桌旁，桌上摆着一封未写完的信。他不耐烦地用笔敲着桌子。
“您为什么想见我？”他冷冷地问道。
波洛坐在他对面，背靠窗子。而公爵面对着窗子。
“我目前正着手调查埃奇韦尔男爵被杀一案。”
那张瘦弱且顽固的脸上，肌肉一丝未动。
“是吗？我不认识他。”
“但是，我想，您认识他的太太——简•威尔金森小姐。”
“是的。”
“您知道她非常希望她丈夫死去吗？”
“我实在不知道这类事情。”
“爵爷，我要直截了当地问您了，您是不是很快要与简•威尔金森小姐结婚了？”
“如果我决定与什么人定婚，报纸上会登出来的。我认为您的问题太鲁莽了。”他站起来说道，“再见。”
波洛也站了起来。他低着头，显得很窘迫。他摇着头，结结巴巴地说；
“我并不是——我——我请您原谅……”
“再见。”公爵又一次略提高声音说道。
这回，波洛是作罢了。他做出绝望的姿态，我们便离开了。这种逐客方式让人下不来台。
我为波洛感到难过。他平素那种轰炸式质问行不通了。
在默顿公爵面前，一位伟大的侦探比一只黑甲虫还微不足道。
“进行得真不顺利。”我同情地说，“这个人真是顽固不化。你究竟为什么要见他呢？”
“我想知道他是否要和简•威尔金森结婚。”
“她是这样说过的。”
“啊！她是这么说。但是，你要注意到，她属于那种为达目的，什么话都会说的人。她也许决定要嫁给他，但是他——可怜的人——可能还未看出实情。”
“不过，他可是不客气地将你逐出门了。”
“他回答我的样子，如同回答记者一样。是的。”波洛笑着说，“但我清楚了。我清楚了目前的情形。”
“你怎么知道的？通过他的态度？”
“不是。你看他在写一封信吗？”
“是的。”
“那么好，我在比利时当警察的时侯。曾发现倒认文字是很有用的。他在那封信上写什么，要不要我给你念念，我最最亲爱的简”所崇拜的、美丽的天使。我如何来形容你对我的重要？你受了这么多的苦！你美好的天性——”
“波洛！”我叫道，得这种方法不地道，阻止他。
“他就写到这，那美好的天性——惟有我知。，
我感到很不自在。他倒对自己的行为感到一种天真的喜悦。
“波洛，我喊道，你不该那样，看他人私人信函。”
“黑斯廷斯，专门讲傻话。说我。不该做，件已经做了的事不可笑吗？”
“这不是儿戏。”
“我没在玩游戏。你知道的。这是严肃的，斯廷斯。不管怎么说，不该用这么个词——做游戏。别再这么说了。我觉得这词早不用了。年轻人听了会笑话的。是的，果你说‘做游戏’或是‘不公平’，孩子们听了会笑你的。”
我缄默不语。波洛做出这种事，可不能轻松地接受。
“根本没有必要，”他说道，如果你对他说你受简•威尔金森之托去了埃奇韦尔男爵那里，就会用另一种态度待你的。”
“啊！我不能那么做。简•威尔金森是我的主顾。我不能将主顾的事说给其他人听。我是受秘密委托的。说了可就没有名誉了。”
“名誉？”
“是的。”
“但她要嫁给他了，不是吗？”
“那不等于说她在他面前没有一丝秘密了。你关于婚姻的观念是很古老的。不能那样，你所建议的，我不能那么做。我得顾到自己做侦探的名誉。你知道，名誉可是个严肃的词。”
“晤，我想这个世界要由各种名誉构成的。”
Chapter 19 A Great Lady贵妇人
Chapter 19 A Great Lady
The visit that we received on the following morning was to my mind one of the most surprising things about the whole affair.
I was in my sitting room when Poirot slipped in with his eyes shining.
‘Mon ami, we have a visitor.’
‘Who is it?’
‘The Dowager Duchess of Merton.’
‘How extraordinary! What does she want?’
‘If you accompany me downstairs, mon ami, you will know.’
I hastened to comply. We entered the room together.
The Duchess was a small woman with a high-bridged nose and autocratic eyes. Although she was short one would not have dared to call her dumpy. Dressed though she was in unfashionable black, she was yet every inch a grande dame. She also impressed me as having an almost ruthless personality. Where her son was negative, she was positive. Her will-power was terrific. I could almost feel waves of force emanating from her. No wonder this woman had always dominated all those with whom she came in contact!
She put up a lorgnette and studied first me and then my companion. Then she spoke to him. Her voice was clear and compelling, a voice accustomed to command and to be obeyed.
‘You are M. Hercule Poirot?’
My friend bowed.
‘At your service, Madame la Duchesse.’
She looked at me.
‘This is my friend, Captain Hastings. He assists me in my cases.’
Her eyes looked momentarily doubtful. Then she bent her head in acquiescence.
She took the chair that Poirot offered.
‘I have come to consult you on a very delicate matter, M. Poirot, and I must ask that what I tell you shall be understood to be entirely confidential.’
‘That goes without saying, Madame.’
‘It was Lady Yardly who told me about you. From the way in which she spoke of you and the gratitude she expressed, I felt that you were the only person likely to help me.’
‘Rest assured, I will do my best, Madame.’
Still she hesitated. Then, at last, with an effort, she came to the point, came to it with a simplicity that reminded me in an odd way of Jane Wilkinson on that memorable night at the Savoy.
‘M. Poirot, I want you to ensure that my son does not marry the actress, Jane Wilkinson.’
If Poirot felt astonishment, he refrained from showing it. He regarded her thoughtfully and took his time about replying.
‘Can you be a little more definite, Madame, as to what you want me to do?’
‘That is not easy. I feel that such a marriage would be a great disaster. It would ruin my son’s life.’
‘Do you think so, Madame?’
‘I am sure of it. My son has very high ideals. He knows really very little of the world. He has never cared for the young girls of his own class. They have struck him as empty-headed and frivolous. But as regards this woman - well, she is very beautiful, I admit that. And she has the power of enslaving men. She has bewitched my son. I have hoped that the infatuation would run its course. Mercifully she was not free. But now that her husband is dead -’
She broke off.
‘They intend to be married in a few months’ time. The whole happiness of my son’s life is at stake.’
She spoke more peremptorily. ‘It must be stopped, M. Poirot.’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘I do not say that you are not right, Madame. I agree that the marriage is not a suitable one. But what can one do?’
‘It is for you to do something.’
Poirot slowly shook his head.
‘Yes, yes, you must help me.’
‘I doubt if anything would avail, Madame. Your son, I should say, would refuse to listen to anything against the lady! And also, I do not think there is very much against her to say! I doubt if there are any discreditable incidents to be raked up in her past. She has been - shall we say - careful?’
‘I know,’ said the Duchess grimly.
‘Ah! So you have already made the inquiries in that direction.’
She flushed a little under his keen glance.
‘There is nothing I would not do, M. Poirot, to save my son from this marriage.’ She reiterated that word emphatically, ‘Nothing! ’
She paused, then went on:
‘Money is nothing in this matter. Name any fee you like. But the marriage must be stopped. You are the man to do it.’
Poirot slowly shook his head.
‘It is not a question of money. I can do nothing - for a reason which I will explain to you presently. But also, I may say, I do not see there is anything to be done. I cannot give you help, Madame la Duchesse. Will you think me impertinent if I give you advice?’
‘What advice?’
‘Do not antagonize your son! He is of an age to choose for himself. Because his choice is not your choice, do not assume that you must be right. If it is a misfortune - then accept misfortune. Be at hand to aid him when he needs aid. But do not turn him against you.’
‘You hardly understand.’
She rose to her feet. Her lips were trembling.
‘But yes, Madame la Duchesse, I understand very well. I comprehend the mother’s heart. No one comprehends it better than I, Hercule Poirot. And I say to you with authority - be patient. Be patient and calm, and disguise your feelings. There is yet a chance that the matter may break itself. Opposition will merely increase your son’s obstinacy.’
‘Goodbye, M. Poirot,’ she said coldly. ‘I am disappointed.’
‘I regret infinitely, Madame, that I cannot be of service to you. I am in a difficult position. Lady Edgware, you see, has already done me the honour to consult me herself.’
‘Oh! I see.’ Her voice cut like a knife. ‘You are in the opposite camp. That explains, no doubt, why Lady Edgware has not yet been arrested for her husband’s murder.’
‘Comment, Madame la Duchesse?’
‘I think you heard what I said. Why is she not arrested? She was there that evening. She was seen to enter the house - to enter his study. No one else went near him and he was found dead? And yet she is not arrested! Our police force must be corrupt through and through.’
With shaking hands she arranged the scarf round her neck, then with the slightest of bows, she swept out of the room.
‘Whew!’ I said. ‘What a tartar! I admire her, though, don’t you?’
‘Because she wishes to arrange the universe to her manner of thinking?’
‘Well, she’s only got her son’s welfare at heart.’
Poirot nodded his head.
‘That is true enough, and yet, Hastings, will it really be such a bad thing for M. le Duc to marry Jane Wilkinson?’
‘Why, you don’t think she is really in love with him?’
‘Probably not. Almost certainly not. But she is very much in love with his position. She will play her part carefully. She is an extremely beautiful woman and very ambitious. It is not such a catastrophe. The Duke might very easily have married a young girl of his own class who would have accepted him for the same reasons - but no one would have made the song and the dance about that.’
‘That is quite true, but -’
‘And suppose he marries a girl who loves him passionately, is there such a great advantage in that? Often I have observed that it is a great misfortune for a man to have a wife who loves him. She creates the scenes of jealousy, she makes him look ridiculous, she insists on having all his time and attention. Ah! non, it is not the bed of roses.’
‘Poirot,’ I said. ‘You’re an incurable old cynic.’
‘Mais non, mais non, I only make the reflections. See you, really, I am on the side of the good mamma.’
I could not refrain from laughing at hearing the haughty Duchess described in this way.
Poirot remained quite serious.
‘You should not laugh. It is of great importance - all this. I must reflect. I must reflect a great deal.’
‘I don’t see what you can do in the matter,’ I said.
Poirot paid no attention.
‘You observed, Hastings, how well-informed the Duchess was? And how vindictive. She knew all the evidence there was against Jane Wilkinson.’
‘The case for the prosecution, but not the case for the defence,’ I said, smiling.
‘How did she come to know of it?’
‘Jane told the Duke. The Duke told her,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, that is possible. Yet I have -’
The telephone rang sharply. I answered it.
My part consisted of saying ‘Yes’ at varying intervals. Finally I put down the receiver and turned excitedly to Poirot.
‘That was Japp. Firstly, you’re “the goods” as usual. Secondly, he’s had a cable from America. Thirdly, he’s got the taxi-driver. Fourthly, would you like to come round and hear what the taxi-driver says. Fifthly, you’re “the goods” again, and all along he’s been convinced that you’d hit the nail on the head when you suggested that there was some man behind all this! I omitted to tell him that we’d just had a visitor here who says the police force is corrupt.’
‘So Japp is convinced at last,’ murmured Poirot. ‘Curious that the Man-in-the-Background theory should be proved just at the moment when I was inclining to another possible theory.’
‘What theory?’
‘The theory that the motive for the murder might have nothing to do with Lord Edgware himself. Imagine someone who hated Jane Wilkinson, hated her so much that they would have even had her hanged for murder. C’est une idée, ?a!’
He sighed - then rousing himself:
‘Come, Hastings, let us hear what Japp has to say.’

第十九章 贵妇人
第二天早上的贯客来访可算是整个事件中最令人意想不到的。
我正在房中，波洛两眼发亮地走了进来。
“我的朋友，我们有客人来了。”
“是谁？”
“默顿老公爵的遗孀。”
“真想不到。她要干什么？”
“如果你和我一起下楼，我的朋友，你会知道的。”
我连忙照办。我们一起进了客厅。
公爵夫人身材矮小，高高的鼻梁，长着一双小眼睛。尽管她长得矮小，但还不能叫她矮腿鸡。她虽然穿着毫不时髦的黑衣服，但她浑身上下无不带着贵族气派。她给我的另一个印象就是，她具有那种近乎残酷的个性。她的儿子是消极的，而她却是积极的。她的意志坚强无比。我可以清晰地感觉到她身上散发出的意志的波浪。毫无疑问，不论与谁打交道，她都会处于统治地位。
“您是赫尔克里•波洛先生吗？”
我的朋友鞠躬致意。
“公爵夫人，愿为您效劳。”
她看了看我。
“这是我的朋友，黑斯廷斯上尉。他帮我办案。”
她眼睛里流露出片刻怀疑，然后低下头，表示默许了。
她坐在波洛让给她的椅子上。
“波洛先生，我是来向您咨询一件很微妙的事的。我必须要求您，对我今天讲给您的事，绝对保密。”
“夫人，那不必担心。”
“是亚德利夫人与我讲起您的。从她讲您时的态度，以及对您的尊重，我觉得您是可能帮助我的人。”
“请放心，夫人，我会尽力的。”
她还是犹豫不决。最后，她才好不容易说明来意。她说起来意的那种单刀直入、简洁明了的方式，使我联想起那个值得纪念的晚上，在萨伏依饭店简•威尔金森的令人吃惊的态度。
“波洛先生，我想请您确保我儿子不要娶简•威尔金森，那个女演员。”
波洛就是惊讶，也会尽力不表露出来。他若有所思地望着她，并不急于回答。
“夫人，您能否更具体一些，您想让我做什么？”
“那很简单。我觉得这场婚姻会是个悲剧。它会毁了我儿子的一生。”
“夫人，您这样认为吗？”
“我十分确信。我儿子有很高尚的理想。他对世上人情世故懂得很少。对于身份相当的小姐，他并不在意。他认为她们头脑简单，举止轻浮。但是，这个女人，我承认，她很漂亮。她有令男人倾倒的魅力。我的儿子已经被她迷住了。我曾经想让他们这种关系自然发展，随着时间长了，自然就冷落下来了。好在她是有夫之妇，不能自由再婚。但是现在，她的丈夫死了——”
她突然停下不说了。
“他们要几个月以后结婚。我儿子的终身幸福危在旦夕。”她更断然地说，“波洛先生，必须阻止他们。”
波洛耸耸肩。
“我不能说您不对，夫人。我同意，这场婚姻不会合适。但我能做什么？”
“您该做些事。”
波洛慢慢地摇着头。
“是的，是的，您得帮助我。”
“夫人，我恐怕没有什么办法可行。我得说，您儿子不会听任何反对那位女士的话。另外，我不认为能有多少反对她的话可说。我想要从她的过去发掘出什么不名誉的资料，恐怕不好办，因为她一直——我们得说——很小心的。”
“我知道。”公爵夫人沉重地说。
“啊！您在这方面一定已经调查过了。”
在他热切的目光下，她有一点脸红了。
“波洛先生，为了不让我儿子娶她，没有什么我不能做的。”她又着重重复了一遍，“没有什么。”
她停了停，又接着说。
“钱没问题。您要多少报酬，尽管说吧。但是，您必须阻止这桩婚事。您正是担任此项工作的合适人选。”
波洛慢慢地摇摇头。
“不是钱的问题。我实在爱莫能助——我就会向您解释一下原因的。而且，我也可以对您说，我看不出能有什么办法。我没办法帮助您”爵夫人。如果我给您一些建议，不会认为我无礼吧？”
“什么建议。”
“别与您儿子作对。他已经达到了自主决定婚姻的年龄。不要因为他的选择不合您的意，就说明您的一定正确。如果有不幸，您就要准备接受不幸。在他需要帮助的时候，随时帮助他。但是千万别逼他反对您。”
“您一点也不明白。”
她站了起来，嘴唇直发抖。
“不是的，公爵夫人，我很理解您。我知道做母亲的心。世上没有一个人比我更明白这个。可是根据我以往的经验对您说，要有耐性，要坚忍、镇定，并且掩饰住您的感情。现在还有一丝希望，这件事或许可能自动地终止。只是反对只能令您的儿子更固执。”
“再见，波洛先生。”她冷冷地说道，“我很失望。”
“夫人，我感到无限地抱歉，我无法帮您忙。我的位置很难做。您知道，埃奇韦尔夫人已经向我请教过了。”
“唤，我明白了。”她的声音如同一把利刃，“您是在对方的阵营里。毫无疑问，这说明了为什么埃奇韦尔夫人还没有因杀夫而被捕。”
“怎么说呢？公爵夫人。”
“我认为您已经听清楚我说什么了。她为什么还没被捕？她那天晚上在那里的。有人看见她进了那房子——走进他的书房。没有别人接近过他，而他死了。她却还没被捕！我们的警方真是彻头彻尾地腐化了。”
她用颤抖的手将围巾围住脖子，然后，只是微微一点头，便大模大样地走出房门。
“噢！”我说，“真是一位悍妇。不过我敬佩她。你呢？”
“就因为她想将字宙按她的意志调整吗？”
“可是，她只是一心惦念着儿子的幸福。”
波洛点了点头。
“是的，不过，黑斯廷斯，你认为默顿公爵要娶简•威尔金森真是件坏事吗？”
“怎么，你认为她真的爱他？”
“很可能不是。十有八九不是。但她很爱他的地位。她会小心地扮演她的角色。她是一位相当漂亮的女士，也很有野心。这也不是什么坏事。公爵要想娶一位门当户对的小姐也是一件相当容易的事。他可能找到的小姐也会因为同样的原因嫁给她，但有谁会理会呢？”
“是这样的。但是——”
“假设他娶了一位极爱他的女孩，那么这婚姻就大有好处吗？我却常常这样想：如果一个人娶了一位极爱他的女人是一种不幸。她会爱吃醋，让他显得滑稽可笑，因为她会迫使丈夫将整个的时间与精力放在她身上。啊！这可不是满坛的攻瑰啊。”
“波洛，”我说道，“你是一个不可救药的愤世嫉俗者。”
“不是的，不是的，我只是想想罢了。你知道，其实我是站在好母亲那一边的。”
我听到他将那位跋扈的公爵夫人形容成这样，忍不住哈哈大笑。
波洛却依然很正经的样子。
“你不该笑的。这一切都是很重要的一所有这一切。我得好好想想。”
“我不明白在这件事上，你能做什么。”我说道。
波洛没理我。
“黑斯廷斯，你注意到了吗？公爵夫人消息很灵通的。她的报复心有多大？所有不利于简的证据，她都知道。”
“这对原告有利，对被告是不利的。”我笑着说。
“她是怎么知道的呢？”
“简告诉公爵，公爵再告诉她。”我提出这样的假设。
“是的，那是有可能的。但是，我——”
电话铃声大作，我赶紧去接。
我听着只有说“是”的份儿。最后，我放下听筒，兴高采烈地与波洛说：
“是贾普。首先，你还是照例。很了不起”第二，他收到了由美国打来的电报；第三，他已经找到了那位出租车司机了；第四，你想不想过去，听听出租车司机怎么说？第五，又是说你真了不起。他说他一直相信，当你说起有幕后指使，是很正确的。我却没对他说，我们刚刚有位客人说警方已经腐化了。”
“贾普最终还是相信了。”波洛小声地说，“真是奇怪，我正打算假定另一种情形，偏偏那个幕后指使又被证实了。”
“什么假定？”
“假定杀人动机也许和埃奇韦尔男爵本人毫无关系。现在你可以想象有另一个恨简•威尔金森的人，这个人恨她恨得非叫她上绞刑架不可。这可是一个可能的假设呢。”
他叹了口气一然后站起来说，
“来吧，黑斯廷斯，让我们听听贾普要说什么。”
Chapter 20 The Taxi-Driver出租车司机
Chapter 20 The Taxi-Driver
We found Japp interrogating an old man with a ragged moustache and spectacles. He had a hoarse self-pitying voice.
‘Ah! there you are,’ said Japp. ‘Well, things are all plain sailing, I think. This man - his name’s Jobson - picked up two people in Long Acre on the night of June 29th.’
‘That’s right,’ assented Jobson hoarsely. ‘Lovely night it were. Moon and all. The young lady and gentleman were by the tube station and hailed me.’
‘They were in evening dress?’
‘Yes, gent in white waistcoat and the young lady all in white with birds embroidered on it. Come out of the Royal Opera, I guess.’
‘What time was this?’
‘Some time afore eleven.’
‘Well, what next?’
‘Told me to go to Regent Gate - they’d tell me which house when they got there. And told me to be quick, too. People always says that. As though you wanted to loiter. Sooner you get there and get another fare the better for you. You never think of that. And, mind you, if there’s an accident you’ll get the blame for dangerous driving!’
‘Cut it out,’ said Japp impatiently. ‘There wasn’t an accident this time, was there?’
‘N-no,’ agreed the man as though unwilling to abandon his claim to such an occurrence. ‘No, as a matter of fact there weren’t. Well, I got to Regent Gate - not above seven minutes it didn’t take me, and there the gentleman rapped on the glass, and I stopped. About at No. 8 that were. Well, the gentleman and lady got out. The gentleman stopped where he was and told me to do the same. The lady crossed the road, and began walking back along the houses the other side. The gentleman stayed by the cab - standing on the sidewalk with his back to me, looking after her. Had his hands in his pockets. It was about five minutes when I heard him say something - kind of exclamation under his breath and then off he goes too. I looks after him because I wasn’t going to be bilked. It’s been done afore to me, so I kept my eye on him. He went up the steps of one of the houses on the other side and went in.’
‘Did he push the door open?’
‘No, he had a latchkey.’
‘What number was the house?’
‘It would be 17 or 19, I fancy. Well, it seemed odd to me my being told to stay where I was. So I kept watching. About five minutes later him and the young lady came out together. They got back into the cab and told me to drive back to Covent Garden Opera House. They stopped me just before I got there and paid me. Paid me handsome, I will say. Though I expect I’ve got into trouble over it - seems there’s nothing but trouble.’
‘You’re all right,’ said Japp. ‘Just run your eye over these, will you, and tell me if the young lady is among them.’
There were half a dozen photographs all fairly alike as to type. I looked with some interest over his shoulder.
‘That were her,’ said Jobson. He pointed a decisive finger at one of Geraldine Marsh in evening dress.
‘Sure?’
‘Quite sure. Pale she was and dark.’
‘Now the man.’
Another sheaf of photographs was handed to him.
He looked at them attentively and then shook his head.
‘Well, I couldn’t say - not for sure. Either of these two might be him.’
The photographs included one of Ronald Marsh, but Jobson had not selected it. Instead he indicated two other men not unlike Marsh in type.
Jobson then departed and Japp flung the photographs on the table.
‘Good enough. Wish I could have got a clearer identification of his lordship. Of course it’s an old photograph, taken seven or eight years ago. The only one I could get hold of. Yes, I’d like a clearer identification, although the case is clear enough. Bang go a couple of alibis. Clever of you to think of it, M. Poirot.’
Poirot looked modest.
‘When I found that she and her cousin were both at the opera it seemed to me possible that they might have been together during one of the intervals. Naturally the parties they were with would assume that they had not left the Opera House. But a half-hour interval gives plenty of time to get to Regent Gate and back. The moment the new Lord Edgware laid such stress upon his alibi, I was sure something was wrong with it.’
‘You’re a nice suspicious sort of fellow, aren’t you?’ said Japp affectionately. ‘Well, you’re about right. Can’t be too suspicious in a world like this. His lordship is our man all right. Look at this.’
He produced a paper.
‘Cable from New York. They got in touch with Miss Lucie Adams. The letter was in the mail delivered to her this morning. She was not willing to give up the original unless absolutely necessary, but she willingly allowed the officer to take a copy of it and cable it to us. Here it is, and it’s as damning as you could hope for.’
Poirot took the cable with great interest. I read it over his shoulder.
Following is text to Lucie Adams, dated June 29th, 8 Rosedew Mansions, London, S.W.3. Begins, Dearest little Sister, I’m sorry I wrote such a scrappy bit last week but things were rather busy and there was a lot to see to. Well, darling, it’s been ever such a success! Notices splendid, box office good, and everybody most kind. I’ve got some real good friends over here and next year I’m thinking of taking a theatre for two months. The Russian dancer sketch went very well and the American woman in Paris too, but the Scenes at a Foreign Hotel are still the favourites, I think. I’m so excited that I hardly know what I’m writing, and you’ll see why in a minute, but first I must tell you what people have said. Mr Hergsheimer was ever so kind and he’s going to ask me to lunch to meet Sir Montagu Corner, who might do great things for me. The other night I met Jane Wilkinson and she was ever so sweet about my show and my take off of her, which brings me round to what I am going to tell you. I don’t really like her very much because I’ve been hearing a lot about her lately from someone I know and she’s behaved cruelly, I think, and in a very underhand way - but I won’t go into that now. You know that she really is Lady Edgware? I’ve heard a lot about him too lately, and he’s no beauty, I can tell you. He treated his nephew, the Captain Marsh I have mentioned to you, in the most shameful way - literally turned him out of the house and discontinued his allowance. He told me all about it and I felt awfully sorry for him. He enjoyed my show very much, he said. ‘I believe it would take in Lord Edgware himself. Look here, will you take something on for a bet?’ I laughed and said, ‘How much?’ Lucie darling, the answer fairly took my breath away. Ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars, think of it - just to help someone win a silly bet. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘I’d play a joke on the King in Buckingham Palace and risk lèse majesté for that.’ Well, then, we laid our heads together and got down to details.
I’ll tell you all about it next week - whether I’m spotted or not. But anyway, Lucie darling, whether I succeed or fail, I’m to have the ten thousand dollars. Oh! Lucie, little sister, what that’s going to mean to us. No time for more - just going off to do my ‘hoax’. Lots and lots and lots of love, little sister mine.
Yours,
Carlotta.
Poirot laid down the letter. It had touched him, I could see.
Japp, however, reacted in quite a different way.
‘We’ve got him,’ said Japp exultantly.
‘Yes,’ said Poirot.
His voice sounded strangely flat.
Japp looked at him curiously.
‘What is it, M. Poirot?’
‘Nothing,’ said Poirot. ‘It is not, somehow, just as I thought. That is all.’
He looked acutely unhappy.
‘But still it must be so,’ he said as though to himself. ‘Yes, it must be so.’
‘Of course it is so. Why, you’ve said so all along!’
‘No, no. You misunderstand me.’
‘Didn’t you say there was someone back of all this who got the girl into doing it innocently?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Well, what more do you want?’
Poirot sighed and said nothing.
‘You are an odd sort of cove. Nothing ever satisfies you. I say, it was a piece of luck the girl wrote this letter.’
Poirot agreed with more vigour than he had yet shown.
‘Mais oui, that is what the murderer did not expect. When Miss Adams accepted that ten thousand dollars she signed her death warrant. The murderer thought he had taken all precautions - and yet in sheer innocence she outwitted him. The dead speak. Yes, sometimes the dead speak.’
‘I never thought she’d done it off her own bat,’ said Japp unblushingly.
‘No, no,’ said Poirot absently. ‘Well, I must get on with things.’
‘You are going to arrest Captain Marsh - Lord Edgware, I mean?’
‘Why not? The case against him seems proved up to the hilt.’
‘True.’
‘You seem very despondent about it, M. Poirot. The truth is, you like things to be difficult. Here’s your own theory proved and even that does not satisfy you. Can you see any flaw in the evidence we’ve got?’
Poirot shook his head.
‘Whether Miss Marsh was accessory or not, I don’t know,’ said Japp. ‘Seems as though she must have known about it, going there with him from the opera. If she wasn’t, why did he take her? Well, we’ll hear what they’ve both got to say.’
‘May I be present?’
Poirot spoke almost humbly.
‘Certainly you can. I owe the idea to you!’ He picked up the telegram on the table.
I drew Poirot aside.
‘What is the matter, Poirot?’
‘I am very unhappy, Hastings. This seems the plain sailing and the above board. But there is something wrong. Somewhere or other, Hastings, there is a fact that escapes us. It all fits together, it is as I imagined it, and yet, my friend, there is something wrong.’
He looked at me piteously.
I was at a loss what to say.

第二十章 出租车司机
贾普正在那里询问一个老头。那人乱糟糟的胡子，戴着副眼镜。他说话有一种自悲自叹的调子。
“啊！你们来了。”贾普说道，“一切进展顺利。这人一—他叫乔布森——六月二十九日晚曾在长田那个地方拉过两个人。”
“是的，”乔布森沙哑着嗓子说，“那是一个很好的夜晚。月亮很亮。那位年轻女士和先生在地铁站附近叫住我。″
“他们穿着晚礼服吗？”
“是的，那位绅士穿着白背心，小姐穿着白衣服，上面绣着鸟的图案。我想是从皇家歌剧院出来的。”
“那是什么时侯？”
“十一点以后。”
“好，那么，以后怎样？”
“他们叫我开到摄政门——他们告诉我那个门，还叫我快一些。人们总爱那么说。就好像你愿意慢似的。其实，我们开车的，谁不想越早开到地方越好，好有别的活。人们从下那么想。可是，也要注意啊”一出事，们又要怪我们太快，冒险了。”
“别说了，贾普不耐烦地说，这次没什么车祸，吗？”
“没——没有。”老头仿佛不愿意放弃这个机会似的，其实，没有车祸。那么，开到摄政门，间没超过七分钟。那位先生敲了敲玻璃，就停了下来。是8号门牌。那先生和小姐下车以后，生站在那儿不动，且也叫我照办。那位小姐穿过马路，着房子往回走。那位先生停在车边，人行道上，对着我，朝着她望着，手放在农袋里。大约过了五分钟，听见他说什么话——好像是低声叫什么，后他也走了。我盯着他，为我可不想被人赖账。以前有过这种事，以我得留神他。他走上其中一幢房子的台阶，了门。”
“他将门推开了吗？”
“没有，他有一把钥匙。”
“那房子是多少号？”
“大概是17号，或是19号。他为什么叫我在这里不动呢？我也很奇怪。所以，我一直盯着他们。五分钟以后，他与那位女士一起出来了。他们上了我的车子，叫我开回科文特加登。他们等车子快到的时候，便让我停下，付了车钱。我得承认，他们很大方。我还以为他们会赖账呢，这年头到处有麻烦。”
“对呀！”贾普说，“现在，你要仔细看看这些照片，看那位小姐是不是在里面。”
他拿出五六张样式大小相似的照片。我从他背后饶有兴致地看着。
“就是她。”乔布森说着，肯定地指着杰拉尔丁。马什穿着晚礼服的照片。
“你能确定吗？”
“能确定。尽管她面色苍白，但皮肤很黑。”
“那么，那位男士呢？”
贾普又把另一些照片拿给他看。
他用心地看着那些照片，接着摇了摇头。
“晤，我不敢说一一不是很肯定。这里面有两个人有点像他。”
在那些照片中，有一个是罗纳德。马什的，但乔布森没有挑出来，他所指的那两个人都不是与马什同型的。
于是乔布森走了，贾普将照片扔到桌上。
“很好了。真希望我们能更清楚地把小男爵认出来。这一张是七八年以前照的。我只找到了这么一张。是的。我真希望有个更清晰的认证，尽管这案子已经相当明确了。以前认为不在现场的证据全部推翻了。波洛先生，都亏你聪明，想到了。”
波洛看起来很谦虚。
“当我发现她与她的堂兄都在歌剧院的时候，我就觉得他们在休息时可能在一起。很自然，同他们在一起的人会以为他们根本不会离开剧院。但是半个小时的休息时间足够他们到摄政门来回两趟了。当新男爵再三声明他不在现场的时候。我听着就觉得情形有点不对。”
“你真是个会怀疑的家伙，是不是？”贾普很和善地说，“晤，你大概是对的。在这个世界上，怎么疑心都不过分，新男爵一定是我们要找的人。看看这个。”
他拿出一张纸来。
“这是从纽约发来的电报。他们已与露西。亚当斯联系过了。信是今早寄到她那里的。她说如不是必要，她是不愿将信的原件交出来的。但是她满口答应让我们派去的警官抄一个副本，然后再拍电报给我们。这就是信的副本，实在是有犯罪嫌疑的。”
波洛带着极大的兴趣拿过电报。我从他背后看着电报内容。
（以下是伦敦S•w•3玫瑰露大厦，六月二十九日致露西。亚当斯的信函。
最最亲爱的小妹，我上星期只潦草地写了凡句。很抱歉！但是因为很忙，有许多事情要亲自去过问。那么，亲爱的，我要告诉你，上次演出相当成功！宣传做得很漂亮，票房记录很好，每个人都很帮忙。我在这里认识了一些很好的朋友。明年我想找一家戏院演两个月。
《俄国舞女》独幂剧上座率很高。《美国女子》在巴黎也很好，人们最喜欢的还是在《外国旅馆》那一场戏。我很兴奋，所以我几乎不知道自己在写什么。为什么呢？等一下，你就会明白了。但是，现在先让我给你讲讲人们都说什么了吧。荷赛默先生非常友善，他请我出去吃午饭。结识蒙塔古。科纳爵士，他会帮我太忙的。前天晚上，我遇到了简•威尔金森。她对我的表演，以及模仿她的动作都狠欣赏。因此就引出一件事。这件事，我要告诉你的。我实在不喜欢她，因为近些曰子，我听到一个认识她的人谈起她，说她手段很毒辣，并且总用偷偷摸摸的方式。但是我们现在不谈这个。原来她就是埃奇韦尔夫人，你知道吗？我也听到不少谈埃奇韦尔男爵的话，他也不怎么好，我可以对你这么说。他对他的侄儿，马什上尉。我和你提过的那个人，也非常不好，他将他赶出家们，并停止他的月生活费。他把经过情形统统对我讲了，我为他感到难过。他很喜欢我的表演。他说：“我想能骗过埃奇韦尔男爵本人的。听我说，你愿意打赌吗？”我笑着问，“赌多少？”露西。亲爱的！他的回答让我喘不上气来。一万美元！想一想，一万美元，只要帮人将这种无聊的赌打赢了，就可以赚一万美元。我说：“为这一万美元，我可以到白金汉宫与国王开玩笑，甘愿冒叛国的罪名。”于是。我们就成交了，开始商量细节问题。
我下星期再杷详情告诉你——我是不是会被别人识破。顺便告诉你，亲爱的露西。无论我成功与否，我都赚得到那一万美元。噢！亲爱的妹妹，那对我们将有多重要啊！没时间再多写了——要去准备那件“戏弄人的把戏”了。千千万万的爱给我的小妹。
你的，卡洛塔波洛将信放下。我可以看出，他深受感动。然而，贾普的反应却截然不同。
“我们可抓住他了。”他高兴地说。
“是的。”波洛说道。
他的声音平淡得让人惊奇。
贾普奇怪地望着他。
“波洛先生，怎么了？”
“没什么。”波洛说，“这和我所想的，不知道为什么，不一样。就是这样。”
他的样子很不愉快。
“但也就该是这样。”他自言自语道，“是的，就得这样。”
“当然是这么回事。怎么了，你不是一直这样认为吗？”
“不”，误会我了。”
“你不是说，一个人在幕后让这女孩什么也不知道地去做吗？”
“是的，的。”
“那，你还想怎样？”
波洛叹了口气，没说话。
“你真是个怪家伙。怎么样都不能使你满意。我是说，幸亏那女孩写了这封信。”
波洛以前所未有的精力连声表示赞同。
“是的。这是凶手未曾想过的。当亚当斯小姐接受那一万美元赌注时，她无疑签了自己的死亡证。凶手以为他已经处处小心了。可是正因为她毫不知情，反而斗过了他。死人会说话。是的，有时死人会说话的。”
“我从未想过她会自己完成这事。”贾普毫不难为情地说。
“是啊，是啊。”波洛心不在焉地说。
“晤，我还得去办事。”
“我想，你是要去逮捕马什上尉——埃奇韦尔男爵。”
“为什么不呢？案件已证明完全对他不利。”
“确实。”
“你好像不很起劲儿，波洛先生。事实是你专门喜欢将事情搞得很困难。你自己的猜想已经被证实了，可你还不满意。你还能从我们得到的证据中找出破绽吗？”
波洛摇摇头。
“不知马什小姐是否同谋？”贾普说，“看起来好像她知晓一切，因为她同他一起由戏院到那里的。假若她不是同谋，他为什么带她去呢？晤，我们要听听他俩说什么。”
“我可以在场吗？”
波洛谦逊地问道。
“你当然可以。我还要感谢你的假想呢。，。
他拿起了桌上的电报。
我将波洛拉到一边。
“波洛，怎么回事？”
“黑斯廷斯，我很不开心。这一切好像迸展得很顺利，明明白白的。但里面还有毛病。黑斯廷斯，我们在某处未曾注意一个情节。现在，各种情形似乎都可以结合起来，如我所料想的那佯。但是，我的朋友，我还是觉得里面有毛病。”
他可怜地望着我。
我不知如何是好。
Chapter 21 Ronald’s Story罗纳德的说法

Chapter 21 Ronald’s Story
I found it hard to understand Poirot’s attitude. Surely this was what he had predicted all along?
All the way to Regent Gate, he sat perplexed and frowning, paying no attention to Japp’s self-congratulations.
He came out of his reverie at last with a sigh.
‘At all events,’ he murmured, ‘we can see what he has to say.’
‘Next to nothing if he’s wise,’ said Japp. ‘There’s any amount of men that have hanged themselves by being too eager to make a statement. Well, no one can say as we don’t warn them! It’s all fair and above board. And the more guilty they are, the more anxious they are to pipe up and tell you the lies they’ve thought out to meet the case. They don’t know that you should always submit your lies to a solicitor first.’
He sighed and said:
‘Solicitors and coroners are the worst enemies of the police. Again and again I’ve had a perfectly clear case messed up by the Coroner fooling about and letting the guilty party get away with it. Lawyers you can’t object to so much, I suppose. They’re paid for their artfulness and twisting things this way and that.’
On arrival at Regent Gate we found that our quarry was at home. The family were still at the luncheon table. Japp proffered a request to speak to Lord Edgware privately. We were shown into the library.
In a minute or two the young man came to us. There was an easy smile on his face which changed a little as he cast a quick glance over us. His lips tightened.
‘Hello, Inspector,’ he said. ‘What’s all this about?’
Japp said his little piece in the classic fashion.
‘So that’s it, is it?’ said Ronald.
He drew a chair towards him and sat down. He pulled out a cigarette case.
‘I think, Inspector, I’d like to make a statement.’
‘That’s as you please, my lord.’
‘Meaning that it’s damned foolish on my part. All the same, I think I will. “Having no reason to fear the truth,” as the heroes in books always say.’
Japp said nothing. His face remained expressionless.
‘There’s a nice handy table and chair,’ went on the young man. ‘Your minion can sit down and take it all down in shorthand.’
I don’t think that Japp was used to having his arrangements made for him so thoughtfully. Lord Edgware’s suggestion was adopted.
‘To begin with,’ said the young man. ‘Having some grains of intelligence, I strongly suspect that my beautiful alibi has bust. Gone up in smoke. Exit the useful Dortheimers. Taxi-driver, I suppose?’
‘We know all about your movements on that night,’ said Japp woodenly.
‘I have the greatest admiration for Scotland Yard. All the same, you know, if I had really been planning a deed of violence I shouldn’t have hired a taxi and driven straight to the place and kept the fellow waiting. Have you thought of that? Ah! I see M. Poirot has.’
‘It had occurred to me, yes,’ said Poirot.
‘Such is not the manner of premeditated crime,’ said Ronald. ‘Put on a red moustache and horn-rimmed glasses and drive to the next street and pay the man off. Take the tube - well - well, I won’t go into it all. My Counsel, at a fee of several thousand guineas, will do it better than I can. Of course, I see the answer. Crime was a sudden impulse. There was I, waiting in the cab, etc., etc. It occurs to me, ‘Now, my boy, up and doing.’
‘Well, I’m going to tell you the truth. I was in a hole for money. That’s been pretty clear, I think. It was rather a desperate business. I had to get it by the next day or drop out of things. I tried my uncle. He’d no love for me, but I thought he might care for the honour of his name. Middle-aged men sometimes do. My uncle proved to be lamentably modern in his cynical indifference.
‘Well - it looked like just having to grin and bear it. I was going to try and have a shot at borrowing from Dortheimer, but I knew there wasn’t a hope. And marry his daughter I couldn’t. She’s much too sensible a girl to take me, anyway. Then, by chance, I met my cousin at the opera. I don’t often come across her, but she was always a decent kid when I lived in the house. I found myself telling her all about it. She’d heard something from her father anyway. Then she showed her mettle. She suggested I should take her pearls. They’d belonged to her mother.’
He paused. There was something like real emotion, I think, in his voice. Or else he suggested it better than I could have believed possible.
‘Well - I accepted the blessed child’s offer. I could raise the money I wanted on them, and I swore I’d turn to and redeem them even if it meant working to manage it. But the pearls were at home in Regent Gate. We decided that the best thing to do would be to go and fetch them at once. We jumped in a taxi and off we went.
‘We made the fellow stop on the opposite side of the street in case anyone should hear the taxi draw up at the door. Geraldine got out and went across the road. She had her latchkey with her. She would go in quietly, get the pearls and bring them out to me. She didn’t expect to meet anyone except, possibly, a servant. Miss Carroll, my uncle’s secretary, usually went to bed at half past nine. He, himself, would probably be in the library.
‘So off Dina went. I stood on the pavement smoking a cigarette. Every now and then I looked over towards the house to see if she was coming. And now I come to that part of the story that you may believe or not as you like. A man passed me on the sidewalk. I turned to look after him. To my surprise he went up the steps and let himself in to No. 17. At least I thought it was No. 17, but, of course, I was some distance away. That surprised me very much for two reasons. One was that the man had let himself in with a key, and the second was that I thought I recognized in him a certain well-known actor.
‘I was so surprised that I determined to look into matters. I happened to have my own key of No. 17 in my pocket. I’d lost it or thought I’d lost it three years ago, had come across it unexpectedly a day or two ago and had been meaning to give it back to my uncle this morning. However, in the heat of our discussion, it had slipped my memory. I had transferred it with the other contents of my pockets when I changed.
‘Telling the taxi man to wait, I strode hurriedly along the pavement, crossed the road, went up the steps of No. 17, and opened the door with my key. The hall was empty. There was no sign of any visitor having just entered. I stood for a minute looking about me. Then I went towards the library door. Perhaps the man was in with my uncle. If so, I should hear the murmur of voices. I stood outside the library door, but I heard nothing.
‘I suddenly felt I had made the most abject fool of myself. Of course the man must have gone into some other house - the house beyond, probably. Regent Gate is rather dimly lighted at night. I felt an absolute idiot. What on earth had possessed me to follow the fellow, I could not think. It had landed me here, and a pretty fool I should look if my uncle were to come suddenly out of the library and find me. I should get Geraldine into trouble and altogether the fat would be in the fire. All because something in the man’s manner had made me imagine that he was doing something that he didn’t want known. Luckily no one caught me. I must get out of it as soon as I could.
‘I tiptoed back towards the front door and at the same moment Geraldine came down the stairs with the pearls in her hand.
‘She was very startled at seeing me, of course. I got her out of the house, and then explained.’
He paused.
‘We hurried back to the opera. Got there just as the curtain was going up. No one suspected that we’d left it. It was a hot night and several people went outside to get a breath of air.’
He paused.
‘I know what you’ll say: Why didn’t I tell you this right away? And now I put it to you: Would you, with a motive for murder sticking out a yard, admit light-heartedly that you’d actually been at the place the murder was committed on the night in question?
‘Frankly, I funked it! Even if we were believed, it was going to be a lot of worry for me and for Geraldine. We’d nothing to do with the murder, we’d seen nothing, we’d heard nothing. Obviously, I thought, Aunt Jane had done it. Well, why bring myself in? I told you about the quarrel and my lack of money because I knew you’d ferret it out, and if I’d tried to conceal all that you’d be much more suspicious and you’d probably examine that alibi much more closely. As it was, I thought that if I bucked enough about it it would almost hypnotize you into thinking it all right. The Dortheimers were, I know, honestly convinced that I’d been at Covent Garden all the time. That I spent one interval with my cousin wouldn’t strike them as suspicious. And she could always say she’d been with me there and that we hadn’t left the place.’
‘Miss Marsh agreed to this - concealment?’
‘Yes. Soon as I got the news, I got on to her and cautioned her for her life not to say anything about her excursion here last night. She’d been with me and I’d been with her during the last interval at Covent Garden. We’d talked in the street a little, that was all. She understood and she quite agreed.’
He paused.
‘I know it looks bad - coming out with this afterwards. But the story’s true enough. I can give you the name and address of the man who let me have the cash on Geraldine’s pearls this morning. And if you ask her, she’ll confirm every word I’ve told you.’
He sat back in his chair and looked at Japp.
Japp continued to look expressionless.
‘You say you thought Jane Wilkinson had committed the murder, Lord Edgware?’ he said.
‘Well, wouldn’t you have thought so? After the butler’s story?’
‘What about your wager with Miss Adams?’
‘Wager with Miss Adams? With Carlotta Adams, do you mean? What has she got to do with it?’
‘Do you deny that you offered her the sum of ten thousand dollars to impersonate Miss Jane Wilkinson at the house that night?’
Ronald stared.
‘Offered her ten thousand dollars? Nonsense. Some-one’s been pulling your leg. I haven’t got ten thousand dollars to offer. You’ve got hold of a mare’s nest. Does she say so? Oh! Dash it all - I forgot, she’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘She is dead.’
Ronald turned his eyes from one to the other of us. He had been debonair before. Now his face had whitened. His eyes looked frightened.
‘I don’t understand all this,’ he said. ‘It’s true what I told you. I suppose you don’t believe me - any of you.’
And then, to my amazement, Poirot stepped forward.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I believe you.’
第二十一章 罗纳德的说法
我觉得很难理解波洛的态度。这一切确实如他所预料的啊。
在去摄政门的路上，他皱着眉，满脸迷惑不解的样子，丝毫不理睬贾普的自我恭维。
他最后长叹一声，从思绪中走出来。
“不论怎样。”他低声道，“我们可以听听他讲些什么。”
“要是他聪明的话，一定说一些等于不说的话。”贾普说，“有很多人因为太急于表白自己而将自己送上绞刑架。晤，可没人敢说我们没警告过他们！一切都是正大光明的。他们越是有罪，就越想唱高调，编出一些谎话来骗你。他们没想过该将自己的谎话先讲给律师听。”
他长叹一声说，
“律师和法医是警察的死对头。一次又一次的，我本来弄得明明白白的案子，让法医搞得一团糟，因为他们总想蒙骗我们，达到他们为凶手开脱的目的。不过关于律师，我们无可非议。他们诡计多端，想方设法歪曲事实，因为是有人付钱的。”
我们到达摄政门，发现我们要找的人在家。一家人正在进午餐。贾普对管家说要与男爵单独谈话，管家便将我们让进书房。
等了一两分钟后，年轻人来见我们。他脸上挂着轻松的笑容。但扫了我们一眼后，他的表情略微变了一点。他的嘴唇绷得紧紧的。
“你好，警督先生”，他说道，“这是怎么回事？”
贾普用一种正统的警察口吻说明来意。
“是那样，怎么了？”罗纳德说道。
他拉过一把椅子坐下，又拿出香烟盒。
“警督，我想，我要说明一下。”
“爵爷，悉听尊便。”
“我是说，我太傻了。都是一回事，我想我要说。正如书中主人公总爱说的一句话，。没有理由害怕真理。，”
贾普一言不发。他的脸仍毫无表情。
“请坐下来吧”，年轻人继续说，“你手下的警官可以坐下来，速记我的话。”
我想贾普一定不习惯这种一切都为他周到地考虑好了的安排。但埃奇韦尔的建议还是被采纳了。
“说起来，”年轻人说道，“我认为自己有一点小聪明，我猜我那套漂亮的不在现场的辩词失策了，烟消云散。有用的多赛默一家没用了。我猜，出租车司机该上场了吧。”
“我们知道你那天晚上的一切行动。”贾普毫无表情地说。
“我对伦敦警察厅实在佩服得五体投地。不过，你要知道，我要是真正计划去行凶，我就不会雇一辆出租车，一直开到目的地，然后叫那家伙等着，你有没有想过这个？我想波洛先生一定会想到的。”
“是的，我想过的。”波洛回答道。
“这样并不会是预谋杀人。带上红色的小胡子，一副角框眼镜，坐车到底下一条街，去干掉一个人，或者乘地铁——得了，得了，我不想细说了。要是我花上几千几尼，可以让我的律师比我说得还好。当然，我可以想到回答。犯罪是一种突然的冲动。比如说。我在那车里等着，等等，等等。突然我有了这个想法，‘现在，伙计，去干吧。’
“晤，我要告诉你实情。我迫切需要钱用。我想，这一点，你们应该明白。我必须在第二天前弄点钱，否则就完了。我试着求我的叔叔。他丝毫不爱我，但我想他该顾及他的名誉。中年男人有时是这样的。可是，我的叔叔却很现代派地对他的名誉毫不在意。
“那么——似乎只有笑笑，忍了。我又打算试着向多赛默借，但我知道那没希望。我也不能和他的女儿结婚。她太敏感了，也不会要我的。后来”在剧院偶遇我的堂妹。我并不总能遇到她，住在叔叔家时，待我很好。我忍不住将我的事告诉了她。而她也从她父亲那听到了一些。于是她向我显示了她的勇气。她建议我拿走她的首饰。那是她母亲给她的。”
他停了卞来，我觉得他的声音里带着一种真挚的感情。要不然就是他那花言巧语的本领是我所难以估计的。
“那么——我就接受了这个好心肠女孩的建议。我可以用她的首饰弄我需要的钱。我发誓，一定会赎还给她的，就是做苦工，我也在所不惜。但是首饰在摄政门的家中。我们决定，最好是立刻去取。于是我们就坐上出租车去了。
“我们让司机停在马路对面，恐怕有人听见汽车停在门口的声音。杰拉尔丁下车以后，穿过马路，她身上带着大门的钥匙，本打算悄悄地进去，拿到首饰便马上出来给我。她没想到会遇到什么人，除了仆人。卡罗尔小姐，我叔叔的秘书九点半就去睡了。我叔叔，他本人，很可能在书房里。
“所以戴娜就去了。我站在人行道上抽着烟。我不时地朝房里看，看她是不是出来了。这时我要说的部分，你们可能不信，信不信由你们。有个人在人行道上从我身边走过。我转过身去看他。令我惊讶的是他走上台阶，进了17号门。至少我认为是17号门。但是，当然我离那房子还有一段距离。我很惊讶有两个原因。一个是那人手中拿着钥匙，另一个原因是我觉得认识他，好像是某位著名的影星。
“我很惊讶，于是决定进去看个究竟。我兜里碰巧有17
号门的钥匙。我本来以为三年前就已经丢了。可是两三天前，又意外地找到了。本来打算还给我叔叔，但两人一激烈地争吵我就忘了。当我换衣服时，又把它连同别的东西一块
放到新衣服的口袋里了。
“告诉了司机等着，我快步走过马路，定上17号台阶，用我的钥匙开了门。大厅里空无一人，并无客人刚刚进人的迹象。我站在那四周打量片刻。然后我走近书房的门。我想那个人也许在书房与我叔叔在一起，那么就会有隐约的说话声，可我站在书房门口，什么也没听见。
“我突然觉得自己实在做了件傻事。那个人一定是进了另一家，也许是隔壁的一家。摄政门夜里灯很昏暗。我觉得自己真是一个傻瓜。我也不清楚。究竟为什么要跟着那个人。结果我却站在这里。要是我叔叔突然从书房里出来，看见我怎么办？那就给杰拉尔丁找麻烦了。一切都不好办了。就是因为那个人的态度让人疑心他在做一件不愿让人知道的事。幸好没人捉到我，我愈早脱身愈好。
“我蹑手蹑脚走回前门，这时，杰拉尔丁手里拿着首饰从楼梯上走下来。
“当然，她看到我很惊讶。我将她拽由门，向她解释了。”
他顿了顿。
“我们赶紧回到剧院。到的时候，幕刚刚拉起。没人疑心我们曾离开过。那是一个闷热的夜晚，好多人都出去透透气。“
他停了停。
“我知道你们要说什么：‘你为什么不立刻告诉我们？’我现在告诉你们：‘如果你有很明显的杀人嫌疑，你会很轻松地承认，出人命案的那天晚上，你就在那座房子里吗？’
“坦率地讲，我很怕！就是有人相信我们，我和杰拉尔丁也会有很多麻烦。我们没谋杀，没看见任何事，也没听见什么，很显然。我觉得是简婶子干的。那么为什么要把自己拖进去呢？我给你讲了吵架和我缺钱，我想你们会查出来的。如果我隐瞒一切，你们可能会更疑心，可能更仔细查询我不在现场的证据。既然如此，我不妨再装得像一点，也许会将你们蒙混过去，让你们信以为真。我知道，多赛默一家确信我一直在科文特加登。我有一段时间与我的堂妹在一起，他们绝对不会感到奇怪。而我堂妹会说我一直与她呆在戏院里，没有离开过那地方。”
“马什小姐同意这样——隐瞒吗？”
“同意的。我不久就得到消息，我就去找她，握醒她为安全，千万不要说我们昨晚来过这里。在戏院里，剧中间歇时我们一直呆在一起的。我们在街上转了转，就这些。她明白，也同意。”
他又停了停。
“我知道这说不好。但我讲的是实话。我可以给你们看我那天早上去找的我用堂妹的首饰押现款的那个人的地址、姓名。如果你们去问她，她会证明我说的话的。”
他往椅背上靠靠，望着贾普。贾普仍然面无表情。
“埃奇韦尔男爵，你说你认为是简•威尔金森杀的人？″
“是啊。听到管家的话后，你们没这么想吗？”
“那么，你与亚当斯小姐打赌，又是怎么回事？”
“与亚当斯小姐打赌？卡洛塔•亚当斯？她与这事有何一关系呢？”
“你否认曾让她在一个晚上去你叔叔那扮演筒。威尔金森小姐，并给她一万美元吗？”
罗纳德很惊讶地瞪着眼睛。
“答应给她一万美元？真是乱讲！一定是有人在戏弄你呢。我出不起一万美元。你以为得到好证据了？其实是一场空欢喜。她这样说的吗？噢，他妈的——我忘了，她已经死了。″
罗纳德呆呆地望着我们。他以前倒满快乐的。但现在，他的脸发白。眼里闪着恐惧。
“我不明白这些”，他说，“我对你们说的是实话。我想你们不相信我一你们所有人。”
这时，令我惊讶的是，波洛走上前去。
“不”，他说，“我相信你。”
Chapter 22 Strange Behaviour of Hercule Poirot赫尔克里·波洛的奇怪举动
Chapter 22 Strange Behaviour of Hercule Poirot
We were in our rooms.
‘What on earth -’ I began.
Poirot stopped me with a gesture more extravagant than any gesture I had ever seen him make. Both arms whirled in the air.
‘I implore you, Hastings! Not now. Not now.’
And upon that he seized his hat, clapped it on his head as though he had never heard of order and method, and rushed headlong from the room. He had not returned when, about an hour later, Japp appeared.
‘Little man gone out?’ he inquired.
I nodded.
Japp sank into a seat. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. The day was warm.
‘What the devil took him?’ he inquired. ‘I can tell you, Captain Hastings, you could have knocked me down with a feather when he stepped up to the man and said: “I believe you.” For all the world as though he were acting in a romantic melodrama. It beats me.’
It beat me also, and I said so.
‘And then he marches out of the house,’ said Japp.
‘What did he say about it to you?’
‘Nothing,’ I replied.
‘Nothing at all?’
‘Absolutely nothing. When I was going to speak to him he waved me aside. I thought it best to leave him alone. When we got back here I started to question him. He waved his arms, seized his hat and rushed out again.’
We looked at each other. Japp tapped his forehead significantly.
‘Must be,’ he said.
For once I was disposed to agree. Japp had often suggested before that Poirot was what he called ‘touched’. In those cases he had simply not understood what Poirot was driving at. Here, I was forced to confess, I could not understand Poirot’s attitude. If not touched, he was, at any rate, suspiciously changeable. Here was his own private theory triumphantly confirmed and straight away he went back on it.
It was enough to dismay and distress his warmest supporters. I shook my head in a discouraged fashion.
‘He’s always been what I call peculiar,’ said Japp. ‘Got his own particular angle of looking at things - and a very queer one it is. He’s a kind of genius, I admit that. But they always say that geniuses are very near the border line and liable to slip over any minute. He’s always been fond of having things difficult. A straightforward case is never good enough for him. No, it’s got to be tortuous. He’s got away from real life. He plays a game of his own. It’s like an old lady playing at patience. If it doesn’t come out, she cheats. Well, it’s the other way round with him. If it’s coming out too easily, he cheats to make it more difficult! That’s the way I look at it.’
I found it difficult to answer him. I, also, found Poirot’s behaviour unaccountable. And since I was very attached to my strange little friend, it worried me more than I cared to express.
In the middle of a gloomy silence, Poirot walked into the room.
He was, I was thankful to see, quite calm now.
Very carefully he removed his hat, placed it with his stick on the table, and sat down in his accustomed chair.
‘So you are here, my good Japp. I am glad. It was on my mind that I must see you as soon as possible.’
Japp looked at him without replying. He saw that this was only the beginning. He waited for Poirot to explain himself.
This my friend did, speaking slowly and carefully.
‘Ecoutez, Japp. We are wrong. We are all wrong. It is grievous to admit it, but we have made a mistake.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Japp confidently.
‘But it is not all right. It is deplorable. It grieves me to the heart.’
‘You needn’t be grieved about that young man. He richly deserves all he gets.’
‘It is not he I am grieving about - it is you.’
‘Me? You needn’t worry about me.’
‘But I do. See you, who was it set you on this course? It was Hercule Poirot. Mais oui, I set you on the trail. I direct your attention to Carlotta Adams, I mention to you the matter of the letter to America. Every step of the way it is I who point it!’
‘I was bound to get there anyway,’ said Japp coldly. ‘You got a bit ahead of me, that’s all.’
‘Cela ce peut. But it does not console me. If harm - if loss of prestige comes to you through listening to my little ideas - I shall blame myself bitterly.’
Japp merely looked amused. I think he credited Poirot with motives that were none too pure. He fancied that Poirot grudged him the credit resulting from the successful elucidation of the affair.
‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘I shan’t forget to let it be known that I owe something to you over this business.’
He winked at me.
‘Oh! it is not that at all.’ Poirot clicked his tongue with impatience. ‘I want no credit. And what is more, I tell you there will be no credit. It is a fiasco that you prepare for yourself, and I, Hercule Poirot, am the cause.’
Suddenly, at Poirot’s expression of extreme melancholy, Japp shouted with laughter. Poirot looked affronted.
‘Sorry, M. Poirot.’ He wiped his eyes. ‘But you did look for all the world like a dying duck in a thunder storm. Now look here, let’s forget all this. I’m willing to shoulder the credit or the blame of this affair. It will make a big noise - you’re right there. Well, I’m going all out to get a conviction. It may be that a clever Counsel will get his lordship off - you never know with a jury. But even so, it won’t do me any harm. It will be known that we caught the right man even if we couldn’t get a conviction. And if, by any chance, the third housemaid has hysterics and owns up she did it - well, I’ll take my medicine and I won’t complain you led me up the garden. That’s fair enough.’
Poirot gazed at him mildly and sadly.
‘You have the confidence - always the confidence! You never stop and say to yourself - can it be so? You never doubt - or wonder. You never think: This is too easy!’
‘You bet your life I don’t. And that’s just where, if you’ll excuse me saying so, you go off the rails every time. Why shouldn’t a thing be easy? What’s the harm in a thing being easy?’
Poirot looked at him, sighed, half threw up his arms, then shook his head.
‘C’est fini! I will say no more.’
‘Splendid,’ said Japp heartily. ‘Now let’s get down to brass tacks. You’d like to hear what I’ve been doing?’
‘Assuredly.’
‘Well, I saw the Honourable Geraldine, and her story tallied exactly with his lordship’s. They may both be in it together, but I think not. It’s my opinion he bluffed her - she’s three parts sweet on him anyway. Took on terribly when she found he was arrested.’
‘Did she now? And the secretary - Miss Carroll?’
‘Wasn’t too surprised, I fancy. However, that’s only my idea.’
‘What about the pearls?’ I asked. ‘Was that part of the story true?’
‘Absolutely. He raised the money on them early the following morning. But I don’t think that touches the main argument. As I see it, the plan came into his head when he came across his cousin at the opera. It came to him in a flash. He was desperate - here was a way out. I fancy he’d been meditating something of the kind - that’s why he had the key with him. I don’t believe that story of suddenly coming across it. Well, as he talks to his cousin, he sees that by involving her he gains additional security for himself. He plays on her feelings, hints at the pearls, she plays up, and off they go. As soon as she’s in the house he follows her in and goes along to the library. Maybe his lordship has dozed off in his chair. Anyway, in two seconds he’s done the trick and he’s out again. I don’t fancy he meant the girl to catch him in the house. He counted on being found pacing up and down near the taxi. And I don’t think the taxi-man was meant to see him go in. The impression was to be that he was walking up and down smoking whilst he waited for the girl. The taxi was facing the opposite direction, remember.
‘Of course, the next morning, he has to pledge the pearls. He must still seem to be in need of the money. Then, when he hears of the crime, he frightens the girl into concealing their visit to the house. They will say that they spent that interval together at the Opera House.’
‘Then why did they not do so?’ asked Poirot sharply.
Japp shrugged his shoulders.
‘Changed his mind. Or judged that she wouldn’t be able to go through with it. She’s a nervous type.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot meditatively. ‘She is a nervous type.’
After a minute or two, he said:
‘It does not strike you that it would have been easier and simpler for Captain Marsh to have left the opera during the interval by himself. To have gone in quietly with his key, killed his uncle, and returned to the opera - instead of having a taxi outside and a nervous girl coming down the stairs any minute who might lose her head and give him away.’
Japp grinned.
‘That’s what you and I would have done. But then we’re a shade brighter than Captain Ronald Marsh.’
‘I am not so sure. He strikes me as intelligent.’
‘But not so intelligent as M. Hercule Poirot! Come now, I’m sure of that!’ Japp laughed.
Poirot looked at him coldly.
‘If he isn’t guilty why did he persuade the Adams girl to take on that stunt?’ went on Japp. ‘There can be only one reason for that stunt - to protect the real criminal.’
‘There I am of accord with you absolutely.’
‘Well, I’m glad we agree about something.’
‘It might be he who actually spoke to Miss Adams,’ mused Poirot. ‘Whilst really - no, that is an imbecility.’
Then, looking suddenly at Japp, he rapped out a quick question.
‘What is your theory as to her death?’
Japp cleared his throat.
‘I’m inclined to believe - accident. A convenient accident, I admit. I can’t see that he could have had anything to do with it. His alibi is straight enough after the opera. He was at Sobranis with the Dortheimers till after one o’clock. Long before that she was in bed and asleep. No, I think that was an instance of the infernal luck criminals sometimes have. Otherwise, if that accident hadn’t happened, I think he had his plans for dealing with her. First, he’d put the fear of the Lord into her - tell her she’d be arrested for murder if she confessed the truth. And then he’d square her with a fresh lot of money.’
‘Does it strike you -’ Poirot stared straight in front of him. ‘Does it strike you that Miss Adams would let another woman be hanged when she herself held evidence that would acquit her?’
‘Jane Wilkinson wouldn’t have been hanged. The Montagu Corner party evidence was too strong for that.’
‘But the murderer did not know that. He would have had to count on Jane Wilkinson being hanged and Carlotta Adams keeping silence.’
‘You love talking, don’t you, M. Poirot? And you’re positively convinced now that Ronald Marsh is a white-headed boy who can do no wrong. Do you believe that story of his about seeing a man sneak surreptitiously into the house?’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘Do you know who he says he thought it was?’
‘I could guess, perhaps.’
‘He says he thought it was the film star, Bryan Martin. What do you think of that? A man who’d never even met Lord Edgware.’
‘Then it would certainly be curious if one saw such a man entering that house with a key.’
‘Chah!’ said Japp. A rich noise expressive of contempt. ‘And now I suppose it will surprise you to hear that Mr Bryan Martin wasn’t in London that night. He took a young lady to dine down at Molesey. They didn’t get back to London till midnight.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot mildly. ‘No, I am not surprised. Was the young lady also a member of the profession?’
‘No. Girl who keeps a hat shop. As a matter of fact, it was Miss Adams’ friend, Miss Driver. I think you’ll agree her testimony is past suspicion.’
‘I am not disputing it, my friend.’
‘In fact, you’re done down and you know it, old boy,’ said Japp, laughing. ‘Cock and bull story trumped up on the moment, that’s what it was. Nobody entered No. 17 . . . and nobody entered either of the houses either side - so what does that show? That his lord-ship’s a liar.’
Poirot shook his head sadly.
Japp rose to his feet - his spirits restored.
‘Come, now, we’re right, you know.’
‘Who was D. Paris, November?’
Japp shrugged his shoulders.
‘Ancient history, I imagine. Can’t a girl have a souvenir six months ago without its having something to do with this crime? We must have a sense of proportion.’
‘Six months ago,’ murmured Poirot, a sudden light in his eyes. ‘Dieu, que je suis bête! ’
‘What’s he saying?’ inquired Japp of me.
‘Listen.’ Poirot rose and tapped Japp on the chest.
‘Why does Miss Adams’ maid not recognize that box? Why does Miss Driver not recognize it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Because the box was new! It had only just been given to her. Paris, November - that is all very well - doubtless that is the date of which the box is to be a souvenir. But it was given to her now, not then. It has just been bought! Only just been bought! Investigate that, I implore you, my good Japp. It is a chance, decidedly a chance. It was bought not here, but abroad. Probably Paris. If it had been bought here, some jeweller would have come forward. It has been photographed and described in the papers. Yes, yes, Paris. Possibly some other foreign town, but I think Paris. Find out, I implore you. Make the inquiries. I want - I so badly want - to know who is this mysterious D.’
‘It will do no harm,’ said Japp good-naturedly. ‘Can’t say I’m very excited about it myself. But I’ll do what I can. The more we know the better.’
Nodding cheerfully to us he departed.

第二十二章 赫尔克里•波洛的奇怪举动
我们回到住处。
“这究竟是——”我开始发问。
波洛用一个手势来阻止我。这种手势非常过分。我从未见他这样做过。他的两只胳膊在空中直摇。
“我求你了，黑斯廷斯，现在别问了，现在别问了。”
说完这话，他一把抓起帽子，往头上一戴，不顾什么方式，急匆匆地冲出门去。一个小时以后。他还没回来。而贾普却露面了。
“小老头出去了？”他问道。
我点点头。
贾普坐在一把椅子上。天气很暖和，他用手帕揩着前额。
“他究竟怎么了？”他问道，“我跟你说，黑斯廷斯上尉，当他走到男爵面前说‘我相信你’时，你用一根鸡毛就会把我扫倒。仿佛是在演一出通俗剧，让我莫名其妙。”
我说，我也是莫名其妙。
“然后他就大模大样地走出去了。”贾普说。
“他和你说了什么吗？”
“没有。”我回答道。
“一点没有？”
“绝对没有说什么。当我要和他说话的时候，他挥手不让我说。我想最好让他去吧。当我们回家后，我开始问他。他摆着胳膊。抓起帽子”急匆匆地出去了。”
我们互相望着对方，普煞有介事地敲着自己的脑门。
“一定是——”说。
这一次，真有些同意了。以前贾普总是说波洛有些“疯疯癫癫的”。有很多次，简直不知道波洛是何用意。现在，也不得不承认，不明白波洛的态度，果不是疯疯癫癫的。至少他也是多变的。现在，自己的假设被证实了，他自己又把它推翻。
这真够让他的热心支持者失望和难过的了。我灰心地摇摇头。
“用我的话讲，总是那么特别。”贾普说，他看事情的角度总是很特别——非常怪的。我得承认，是一个天才。但是人们常说天才与疯狂往往只有一步之隔，不小心就会变成另一类。他总是喜欢把事情复杂化。他对简单的事情不感兴趣。不仅如此，直是难以忍受，远离了现实生活。他在玩自己的游戏，像老太太独自玩纸牌一样，是好牌不出来，就作弊。不过，的情况正相反，是好牌来得太容易了，要想法把它变得更困难！我就是这么看的。”
我发觉很难回答他。我也觉得波洛的行为举止难以解释。我越是对这个奇怪的朋友有感情。越是为他担忧，只不过我不喜欢表现出来罢了。
就在我们闷闷不乐的时候，波洛走了进来。
我很庆幸地看到，他目前已经很镇静了。
他很小心地将帽子摘下来，同手杖一块放在桌上，然后坐在自己常坐的椅子上。
“原来是你啊，我的好贾普。我很高兴。我正想立刻见你呢。”
贾普看着他。没有说话。他知道这只是刚开始。他在等待波洛说明他自己的想法。
我的朋友慢慢地、小心地对他讲了。
“完了，贾普。我们错了。我们全都错了。承认这个真是悲哀，但我们确实犯了个错误。”
“没关系的。”贾普自信地说。
“但是并不是没关系。那是惨透了。我真是从心底里难过。”
“你没有必要为那个年轻人难过。他罪有应得。”
“我不是为他难过，而是——为你。”
“我？你不必为我担心。”
“但是，我很担心。你明白吗？是谁让你按照这个路子去查的？是赫尔克里•波洛。是我让你这样迫踪的。我让你注意卡洛塔•亚当斯，我向你说了她写到美国的一封信，每一个步骤都是我指点的。”
“我必定会达到那种结论的。”贾普冷冷地说，“不过是你捷足先登罢了。”
“有一点儿，但这并不能让我安心。如果是因为听了我的意见，而使你受损——我会很自责的。”
贾普只是露出觉得好笑的样子。我认为他是觉得波洛的动机不纯。他以为波洛是不愿意让他独占成功破案的功劳。
“好吧，”他说，“我不会忘记向大家说，这个案子能破，得部分归功于你。”
他向我眨了眨眼。
“噢！根本不是这么回事。”波洛不耐烦地啧着嘴，“我不是邀功。再者说，我告诉你。根本没有功可言。你忙了大半天，结果是彻底失败；而我呢？却是罪魁祸首。”
看着波洛发愁的样子，贾普突然放声大笑。波洛看起来很生气。
“对不起，波洛先生，”他擦着眼睛说，“但你看起来却像一只雨中奄奄一息的鸭子。现在，听我说，让我们忘记这一切。不管是功还是过，都由我一人来承担。这件事会轰动一时的，你这一点是说对了。那么，我准备让法庭定他的罪。也许会有一个聪明的律师，可以设法使男爵逃脱刑事责任——对陪审团，有谁能说得淮呢？不过即使这样也不要紧。即使没定罪，人们也会知道我们所抓的正是杀人犯。假若又突然出来个女仆，承认是她干的——那么，我们也绝对接受现实，不会抱怨说是你把我们领进误区的。这不是很公平吗？”
波洛温和而又悲哀地望着他。
“你总有信心——永远那么有信心。你从来不会停一停，问一问自己——事情会是这样吗？你从不怀疑——或者想弄明白。你从不想想，这不是太容易了！”
“你可以相信，我就是不这么想。请原谅我这么说，你每次就总是这样离谱的。为什么事情不能这样简单呢？事情简单又有什么坏处呢？”
波洛望着他，长叹一声。半举起胳膊，然后又摇了摇头。
“完了，我再也不多说了。”
“好极了，”波洛热诚地说，“现在让我们谈正事吧。你想不想听听我一直在做什么？”
“当然。”
“好吧。我见了杰拉尔丁小姐了。她讲的和男爵说的一致。他俩也许是共同策划的，但我不这样认为，我以为是他威吓她的。不管怎么说，她对他的感情是很深的。当她得知他被捕了。伤心得不得了。”
“她现在还伤心吗？那个秘书——卡罗尔小姐呢？”
“我想，她并不很惊奇。但那只是我的猜想。”
“关于首饰呢？”我问道。“那部分是真的吗？”
“完全是真的。他第二天一大早就将首饰换成了款子，但是，我认为这件事与主要的论证没关系。就我所看，他在戏院碰到他堂妹以后，他才想到那个主意。他正很绝望——毫无出路。我猜测，他正想类似的办法——那就是他为什么身上带着钥匙。他说偶然又找到了钥匙，我才不信呢。他对他堂妹说明事情，因为他知道如果把她拉进去，他更安全些。他以卑鄙的手段玩弄她的感情。暗示要借用她的首饰。后来，她决定帮他，便一同去了。她一进去后，他也进去，走人书房。也许男爵正躺在椅子上打瞌睡。不管怎么说，他是两秒钟就干完了，再走出来。我想他不想让那女孩子在房子里看到他。他本打算在那出租车附近走来走去。并且我认为他也没想让庐个出租车司机看见他进去的。他想给别人留下的印象是。抽着烟踱来踱去，在那里等着那女孩子。你要记住，那出租车是面对相反方向的。
“当然，第二天一早，他不得不去抵押那些首饰。他必须装得还需要那笔钱。后来，他听到命案消息以后，他恐吓那女孩。叫她不要把咋晚的事泄露出去。他要她说他俩在休息时间是一块在戏院里。”
“那为什么他们不那么说呢？”波洛一针见血地问道。
贾普耸了耸他的肩膀。
“又改变了主意。或者觉得那女孩并不一定能应付到底。因为她是那种神经质的人。”
“是的”，波洛思索着说，“她是那种神经质的。”
过了一两分钟。他又说。
“你从未想过，马什上尉要是在休息时间独自离开戏院，用他的钥匙将门打开，悄悄地进去，刺死他的叔叔，然后再回戏院。也不必让出租车司机在那儿等，那样不是更容易，更省事吗？因为那个神经质的女孩，随时都有下来看到他的可能。如果看见了”也许失去理智，他告发了。”
贾普冽嘴笑了。
“那是你我可能会做的事。但我们要比罗纳德。马什上尉聪明一点。”
“我不敢肯定。他给我的感觉是很聪明。”
“但不如赫尔克里。波洛聪明。得了吧，肯定他没你聪明。”普笑着说道。
波洛冷冷地望着他。
“如果不是他有罪，为什么要让那个姓亚当斯的女孩做替身呢？”贾普接着说，找替身只有一个原因，是掩护真正的罪犯。”
“这一点，与你意见一致。”
“晤，真高兴我俩还有一些方面可以意见一致的。”
“可能是他与亚当斯小姐讲的。”波洛沉思地说，不过，起来，真够傻的。”
波洛突然望着贾普，快地问了一个问题。
“你对她的死有何想法？”
贾普清了清嗓子。
“我倒以为这是件意外的事。我录认，要把它解释成意外的事倒是很方便的。我看不出他与此有俩关系。他所提出的，在看完歌剧后不在凶杀现场的证词是可信的。他同多赛默一家在索布兰尼斯饭店吃饭一直吃到凌晨一点以后。这时候，她早已上床睡觉了。我认为这就可以证明，凶手有时候的确是有运气的。否则，要是那件意外的事件没有发生，我想他也会有对付她的办法。首先，可以恐吓她一对她说，如果她说出实情就会被捕。然后再给她一些钱作补偿。”
“你有没有想到——”波洛直盯着对方问，“亚当斯小姐既然有证明自己无罪的证据，她就会让另一个女人上绞刑架的。”
“简•威尔金森不会上绞刑架的。她在蒙塔古。科纳宴会上的证据很有力。”
“但杀人者并不知道这个。他还指望着简•威尔金森会上绞刑架，而卡洛塔•亚当斯会保待缄默。”
“波洛先生，你总喜欢空谈，是不是？而且你绝对相信罗纳德。马什是一个规规矩矩的青年。他说有一个人偷偷摸摸走人埃奇韦尔男爵的公馆，你相信他的话吗？”
波洛耸耸肩膀。
“你知道他说他认为是谁吗？”
“我大概可以猜到。”
“他说他以为是那个电影明星——布赖恩•马丁。你怎么认为？一个从未见过埃奇韦尔男爵的人。”
“那么如果有人看见这么个人拿着钥匙进了门当然是很怪的事了。”
“哦！”贾普轻蔑地说。“要是现在我告诉你，布赖恩•马丁先生那一晚并不在伦敦，你一定很惊讶。他带着一个女士到莫尔赛饭店去吃饭，直到半夜才回伦敦来。”
“啊！”波洛轻轻地说，“不，我并不觉得奇怪。那位小姐与他是同行吧？”
“不是。那位女士开帽店。事实上她是亚当斯小姐的朋友，德赖弗小姐。我以为。你会同意她的证词是毫无疑问的。”
“我的朋友，我不是与你争论。”
“事实上，你被骗了，你自己也知道的，老伙计。”贾普哈哈大笑地说，“那是临时捏造的无稽之谈，对了，就是那么回事。根本没有人走进17号门——也没有人进旁边的房子。这说明什么呢？新男爵在撒谎。”
波洛悲哀地摇摇头。
贾普站了起来，又恢复了精神抖擞的样子。
“得了，你知道，我们是对的。”
“谁又是那个Ｄ，巴黎，十一月呢？”
贾普耸耸肩腊。
“我猜，是古代历史的吧。难道一个女士不能有一个六个月前、与此禀无关的纪念品吗？我们应该有比较地看待事物。”
“六个月前，”波洛低声重复道，眼睛突然一亮，“天啊，我真傻！”
“他在说什么？”贾普问我道。
“听我说。”波洛站起来，用手拍着贾普的胸。
“为什么亚当斯小姐的女仆没有认出那匣子？德赖弗小姐为什么也不认得？”
“你这话是什么意思？”
“因为那匣子是新的！是人家刚刚送给她的。十一月，于巴黎。呢，毫无疑问。按这个日期看，那匣子是要被当作‘纪念品’的。不过不是那时送的，是现在。是刚刚买的！仅仅是刚刚买的。我求你，好贾普，去调查一下这个。这可是一个机会，绝对是——个机会。那匣子不是在这里买的，是在国外。大概是在巴黎。如果是在这买的，珠宝商早就认出来了。因为报上登过照片，而且也报道过它的形状。对啦！对啦！巴黎。也许是另外一个国外的城市。不过我认为是巴黎。我求你去把这个查清楚。各方面询问一下。我实在想——非常想——知道这个神秘的Ｄ是谁。”
“当然没坏处。”贾普善意地说，“我不能说自己对此有多大兴趣。但我会尽力去查。反正我们知道得越多越好。”
他向我们愉快地点点头便走了。
Chapter 23 The Letter信
Chapter 23 The Letter
‘And now,’ said Poirot, ‘we will go out to lunch.’
He put his hand through my arm. He was smiling at me.
‘I have hope,’ he explained.
I was glad to see him restored to his old self, though I was none the less convinced myself of young Ronald’s guilt. I fancied that Poirot himself had perhaps come round to this view, convinced by Japp’s arguments. The search for the purchaser of the box was, perhaps, a last sally to save his face.
We went amicably to lunch together.
Somewhat to my amusement at a table the other side of the room, I saw Bryan Martin and Jenny Driver lunching together. Remembering what Japp had said, I suspected a possible romance.
They saw us and Jenny waved a hand.
When we were sipping coffee, Jenny left her escort and came over to our table. She looked as vivid and dynamic as ever.
‘May I sit and talk to you a minute, M. Poirot?’ ‘Assuredly, Mademoiselle. I am charmed to see you. Will not M. Martin join us also?’
‘I told him not to. You see, I wanted to talk to you about Carlotta.’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’
‘You wanted to get a line on to some man friend of hers. Isn’t that so?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking and thinking. Sometimes you can’t get at things straight away. To get them clear you’ve got to think back - remember a lot of little words and phrases that perhaps you didn’t pay attention to at the time. Well, that’s what I’ve been doing. Thinking and thinking - and remembering just what she said. And I’ve come to a certain conclusion.’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’
‘I think the man that she cared about - or was beginning to care about - was Ronald Marsh - you know, the one who has just succeeded to the title.’
‘What makes you think it was he, Mademoiselle?’
‘Well, for one thing, Carlotta was speaking in a general sort of way one day. About a man having hard luck, and how it might affect character. That a man might be a decent sort really and yet go down the hill. More sinned against then sinning - you know the idea. The first thing a woman kids herself with when she’s getting soft about a man. I’ve heard the old wheeze so often! Carlotta had plenty of sense, yet here she was coming out with this stuff just like a complete ass who knew nothing of life. “Hello,” I said to myself. “Something’s up.” She didn’t mention a name - it was all general. But almost immediately after that she began to speak of Ronald Marsh and that she thought he’d been badly treated. She was very impersonal and offhand about it. I didn’t connect the two things at the time. But now - I wonder. It seems to me that it was Ronald she meant. What do you think, M. Poirot?’
Her face looked earnestly up into his.
‘I think, Mademoiselle, that you have perhaps given me some very valuable information.’
‘Good.’ Jenny clapped her hands.
Poirot looked kindly at her.
‘Perhaps you have not heard - the gentleman of whom you speak, Ronald Marsh - Lord Edgware - has just been arrested.’
‘Oh!’ Her mouth flew open in surprise. ‘Then my bit of thinking comes rather late in the day.’
‘It is never too late,’ said Poirot. ‘Not with me, you understand. Thank you, Mademoiselle.’
She left us to return to Bryan Martin.
‘There, Poirot,’ I said. ‘Surely that shakes your belief.’
‘No, Hastings. On the contrary - it strengthens it.’
Despite that valiant assertion I believed myself that secretly he had weakened.
During the days that followed he never once mentioned the Edgware case. If I spoke of it, he answered monosyllabically and without interest. In other words, he had washed his hands of it. Whatever he had had lingering in his fantastic brain, he had now been forced to admit that it had not materialized - that his first conception of the case had been the true one and that Ronald Marsh was only too truly accused of the crime. Only, being Poirot, he could not admit openly that such was the case! Therefore he pretended to have lost interest.
Such, as I say, was my interpretation of his attitude. It seemed borne out by the facts. He took no faintest interest in the police court proceedings, which in any case were purely formal. He busied himself with other cases and, as I say, he displayed no interest when the subject was mentioned.
It was nearly a fortnight later than the events mentioned in my last chapter when I came to realize that my interpretation of his attitude was entirely wrong.
It was breakfast time. The usual heavy pile of letters lay by Poirot’s plate. He sorted through them with nimble fingers. Then he uttered a quick exclamation of pleasure and picked up a letter with an American stamp on it.
He opened it with his little letter-opener. I looked on with interest since he seemed so moved to pleasure about it. There was a letter and a fairly thick enclosure.
Poirot read the former through twice, then he looked up.
‘Would you like to see this, Hastings?’
I took it from him. It ran as follows:
Dear M. Poirot, - I was much touched by your kind - your very kind letter. I have been feeling so bewildered by everything. Apart from my terrible grief, I have been so affronted by the things that seem to have been hinted about Carlotta - the dearest, sweetest sister that a girl ever had. No, M. Poirot, she did not take drugs. I’m sure of it. She had a horror of that kind of thing. I’ve often heard her say so. If she played a part in that poor man’s death, it was an entirely innocent one - but of course her letter to me proves that. I am sending you the actual letter itself since you ask me to do so. I hate parting with the last letter she ever wrote, but I know you will take care of it and let me have it back, and if it helps you to clear up some of the mystery about her death, as you say it may do - why, then, of course it must go to you.
You ask whether Carlotta mentioned any friend specially in her letters. She mentioned a great many people, of course, but nobody in a very outstanding way. Bryan Martin whom we used to know years ago, a girl called Jenny Driver, and a Captain Ronald Marsh were, I think, the ones she saw most of.
I wish I could think of something to help you. You write so kindly and with such understanding, and you seem to realize what Carlotta and I were to each other.
Gratefully yours,
Lucie Adams
P.S. An officer has just been here for the letter. I told him that I had already mailed it to you. This, of course, was not true, but I felt somehow or other that it was important you should see it first. It seems Scotland Yard need it as evidence, against the murderer. You will take it to them. But, oh! please be sure they let you have it back again some day. You see, it is Carlotta’s last words to me.
‘So you wrote yourself to her,’ I remarked as I laid the letter down. ‘Why did you do that, Poirot? And why did you ask for the original of Carlotta Adams’ letter?’
He was bending over the enclosed sheets of the letter I mentioned.
‘In verity I could not say, Hastings - unless it is that I hoped against hope that the original letter might in some way explain the inexplicable.’
‘I don’t see how you can get away from the text of that letter. Carlotta Adams gave it herself to the maid to post. There was no hocus pocus about it. And certainly it reads as a perfectly genuine ordinary epistle.’
Poirot sighed.
‘I know. I know. And that is what makes it so difficult. Because, Hastings, as it stands, that letter is impossible.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘Si, si, it is so. See you, as I have reasoned it out, certain things must be - they follow each other with method and order in an understandable fashion. But then comes this letter. It does not accord. Who, then, is wrong? Hercule Poirot or the letter?’
‘You don’t think it possible that it could be Hercule Poirot?’ I suggested as delicately as I was able.
Poirot threw me a glance of reproof.
‘There are times when I have been in error - but this is not one of them. Clearly then, since the letter seems impossible, it is impossible. There is some fact about the letter which escapes us. I seek to discover what that fact is.’
And thereupon he resumed his study of the letter in question, using a small pocket microscope.
As he finished perusing each page, he passed it across to me. I, certainly, could find nothing amiss. It was written in a firm fairly legible handwriting and it was word for word as it had been telegraphed across.
Poirot sighed deeply.
‘There is no forgery of any kind here - no, it is all written in the same hand. And yet, since, as I say, it is impossible -’
He broke off. With an impatient gesture he demanded the sheets from me. I passed them over, and once again he went slowly through them.
Suddenly he uttered a cry.
I had left the breakfast table and was standing looking out of the window. At this sound, I turned sharply.
Poirot was literally quivering with excitement. His eyes were green like a cat’s. His pointing finger trembled.
‘See you, Hastings? Look here - quickly - come and look.’
I ran to his side. Spread out before him was one of the middle sheets of the letter. I could see nothing unusual about it.

‘See you not? All these other sheets they have the clean edge - they are single sheets. But this one - see - one side of it is ragged - it has been torn. Now do you see what I mean? This letter was a double sheet, and so, you comprehend, one page of the letter is missing.’
I stared stupidly, no doubt. ‘But how can it be. It makes sense.’
‘Yes, yes, it makes sense. That is where the cleverness of the idea comes in. Read - and you will see.’
I think I cannot do better than to apprehend a facsimile of the page in question.
‘You see it now?’ said Poirot. ‘The letter breaks off where she is talking of Captain Marsh. She is sorry for him, and then she says: “He enjoyed my show very much.” Then on the new sheet she goes on: “he said . . .” But, mon ami, a page is missing. The “he” of the new page may not be the “He” of the old page. In fact it is not the “He” of the old page. It is another man altogether who proposed that hoax. Observe, nowhere after that is the name mentioned. Ah! C’est épatant! Somehow or other our murderer gets hold of this letter. It gives him away. No doubt he thinks to suppress it altogether, and then - reading it over - he sees another way of dealing with it. Remove one page, and the letter is capable of being twisted into a damning accusation of another man - a man too who has a motive for Lord Edgware’s death. Ah! it was a gift! The money for the confiture as you say! He tears the sheet off and replaces the letter.’
I looked at Poirot in some admiration. I was not perfectly convinced of the truth of his theory. It seemed to be highly possible that Carlotta had used an odd half sheet that was already torn. But Poirot was so transfigured with joy that I simply had not the heart to suggest this prosaic possibility. After all, he might be right.
I did, however, venture to point out one or two difficulties in the way of his theory.
‘But how did the man, whoever he was, get hold of the letter? Miss Adams took it straight from her handbag and gave it herself to the maid to post. The maid told us so.’
‘Therefore we must assume one of two things. Either the maid was lying, or else, during that evening, Carlotta Adams met the murderer.’
I nodded.
‘It seems to me that that last possibility is the most likely one. We still do not know where Carlotta Adams was between the time she left the flat and nine o’clock when she left her suitcase at Euston station. During that time, I believe myself that she met the murderer in some appointed spot - they probably had some food together. He gave her some last instructions. What happened exactly in regard to the letter we do not know. One can make a guess. She may have been carrying it in her hand meaning to post it. She may have laid it down on the table in the restaurant. He sees the address and scents a possible danger. He may have picked it up adroitly, made an excuse for leaving the table, opened it, read it, torn out the sheet, and then either replaced it on the table, or perhaps given it to her as she left, telling her that she had dropped it without noticing. The exact way of it was not important - but two things do seem clear. That Carlotta Adams met the murderer that evening either before the murder of Lord Edgware, or afterwards (there was time after she left the Corner House for a brief interview). I have a fancy, though there I am perhaps wrong, that it was the murderer who gave her the gold box - it was possibly a sentimental memento of their first meeting. If so, the murderer is D.’
‘I don’t see the point of the gold box.’
‘Listen, Hastings, Carlotta Adams was not addicted to veronal. Lucie Adams says so, and I, too, believe it to be true. She was a clear-eyed healthy girl with no predilection for such things. None of her friends nor her maid recognized the box. Why, then, was it found in her possession after she died? To create the impression that she did take veronal and that she had taken it for a considerable time - that is to say at least six months. Let us say that she met the murderer after the murder if only for a few minutes. They had a drink together, Hastings, to celebrate the success of their plan. And in the girl’s drink he put sufficient veronal to ensure that there should be no waking for her on the following morning.’
‘Horrible,’ I said with a shudder.
‘Yes, it was not pretty,’ said Poirot dryly.
‘Are you going to tell Japp all this?’ I asked after a minute or two.
‘Not at the moment. What have I got to tell? He would say, the excellent Japp, “another nest of the mare! The girl wrote on an odd sheet of paper!” C’est tout.’
I looked guiltily at the ground.
‘What can I say to that? Nothing. It is a thing that might have happened. I only know it did not happen because it is necessary that it should not have happened.’
He paused. A dreamy expression stole across his face.
‘Figure to yourself, Hastings, if only that man had had the order and the method, he would have cut that sheet not torn it. And we should have noticed nothing. But nothing!’
‘So we deduce that he is a man of careless habits,’ I said, smiling.
‘No, no. He might have been in a hurry. You observe it is very carelessly torn. Oh! assuredly he was pressed for time.’
He paused and then said:
‘One thing you do remark, I hope. This man - this D - he must have had a very good alibi for that evening.’
‘I can’t see how he could have had any alibi at all if he spent his time first at Regent Gate doing a murder and then with Carlotta Adams.’
‘Precisely,’ said Poirot. ‘That is what I mean. He is badly in need of an alibi, so no doubt he prepared one. Another point: Does his name really begin with D? Or does D stand for some nickname by which he was known to her?’
He paused and then said softly:
‘A man whose initial or whose nickname is D. We have got to find him, Hastings. Yes, we have got to find him.’

第二十三章 信
“那么现在，”波洛说，“我们出去吃午饭。”
他用手勾住我的胳膊，对我笑着。
“我是满怀信心的。”
我很高兴看到他又恢复了老样子，尽管我本人仍认为罗纳德是有罪的。我猜，波洛听了贾普的一番辩论，已经接受了这个观点。所谓查找买匣子的人，大概只是最后试图挽回面子罢了。
我们一起高高兴兴地去吃饭。
我觉得颇有趣的是看到，在饭店里另一边的桌旁，布赖恩•马丁正与詹尼。德赖弗小姐共进午餐。想起贾普说的话，我猜他们很可能有一段恋情。
他们也看见了我们，詹尼向我们招手。
当我f门喝咖啡的时候，詹尼离开她的同伴走到我们桌旁。她看起来还是那么活泼、精力充沛。
“波洛先生，我可以坐下和您谈谈吗？”
“当然可以，女士。我很高兴见到您。马丁先生不也来坐坐吗？”
“是我不让他来的。您看，我想和您谈谈卡洛塔。”
“谈什么呢？女士。”
“您曾想调查她是不是有男友，是吧？”
“是的。是的。”
“我一直在想啊，想啊。有时遇到事情，你是不能一下子想起来的。要想弄清楚，你就得回忆——回忆以前许多话语，也许当时并未注意过。晤，我最近就是一直在想这个。我一再回忆——回忆她说过什么。现在，我已经有了一个肯定的结论。”
“是什么呢？女士。”
“我认为她喜欢的人——或者是刚刚开始喜欢的人，是罗纳德。马什——您知道，就是那个刚刚承袭爵位的人。”
“女士，您为什么想到会是他呢？”
“晤，比如，有一次卡洛塔用一般的说话方式说起一个人。说他运气有多么不好。又是如何影响他的性格。本来那个人人品是好的，但也堕落了。人们对这样的人往往过分地责备，他受的罪比他犯的罪还多——您知道那意恩。当一个女人对某人有了好感，就会用这种话骗自己。我常常听到这种笑话。卡洛塔是一个很有理智的人，可她说出这种话，仿佛是丝毫不了解人生的傻瓜说的。于是我就对自己说：‘喂！有什么事要发生了。’她并没有说姓名——只是泛泛地说。但差不多刚说完这个，她就开始说罗纳德。马什，认为他受到不公平的对待。对于这件事，她显得与己无关的样子。那时我并未将两件事联系起来，但是现在——我在怀疑。她好像指罗纳德。波洛先生，您认为呢？”
她恳切地抬头望着他。
“小姐，我想您给我带来了一个很有价值的信息。”
“好。”詹尼拍手说。
波洛友善地望着她。
“大概您还没听说——您说的那位罗纳德。马什——刚刚被捕。”
“啊！”她惊讶地张大嘴，“那么我所想到的很迟了。”
“没有太迟的事，”波洛说，“对我是这样。谢谢您，女士。”
她离开我们，走回到布赖恩•马丁那里。
“波洛，”我说，“这样，你的想法又动摇了。”
“没有，黑斯廷斯。怆恰相反——我更坚定了。”
他虽然硬着头皮那样说，我相信，他内心己经动摇了。
随后几天，他再也没提起埃奇韦尔这个案子。就是我说起这案子，他也只回答一两个字，显得丝毫不感兴趣的样子。换句话说，对于这个案子，他已经不闻不问了。不管他怪诞的脑子里还残留着什么古怪的想法，他现在不得不暗自承认，那不现实——他第一次假设是正确的，罗纳德。马什才是真正的凶手。只是，身为波洛，他不能公开这么说罢了。所以他才故意装得不感兴趣。
这就是我对他态度的解释。对于警厅的调查过程，他丝毫不感兴趣，因为那只是形式而已。他忙于其它的案子。当别人提起那案子时，他总是不感兴趣。
在我上面所说的事过去两个星期后，我发觉，我对他态度的解释完全错了。
那天，我们正在吃早餐，波洛的盘子旁照例堆了一摞信件。他很快地将信分门别类。当看到一封带有美国邮票的信时，他马上愉快地喊了一声。
他用小裁纸刀将信拆开。他看起来如此高兴，我也很感兴趣地在一边观望。里面有一张信笺，另外附有相当厚的附件。
波洛将信看了两遍，然后抬头望着我。
“黑斯廷斯，你要读读吗？”
我从他手上拿过信。信文如下。
亲爱的波洛先生，我看到您言辞恳切——非常恳切的来信，心中大为感动。除了我姐姐的不幸以外，令人伤心的是最近又有许多流言，影射我那最最亲密的姐姐——卡洛塔。不，波洛先生，卡洛塔不吸毒。对于这一点，我绝对相信。她对这类东西很厌恶。我常常听见她这样说。加果说她与男爵命案有牵莲，那她也是无辜的——当然，她给我写的那封信就可以证明这一点。先生既然来信要我将姐姐的原信寄去，我现在就随信附上。这是她最后一封信，我舍不得丢掉它。但是，我知道您会当心，并且会将它寄还给我的。您信上说这封信可以帮助您澄清关于她的命案中的一部分疑团——
那么加果这是真的话，这封信应该寄给您。您问卡洛塔是否在信中提过什么朋友。她当然提到过许多人，但是并不曾特别提到什么人。她提到过布赖恩•马丁，这个人是我们多年前就认识的，还提到詹尼。德赖弗和一位叫罗纳德•马什的上尉，这些人，我想，是她常见的。
但愿我能想起什么，可以帮助您。您在来信中措辞是加此恳切、体贴，您似乎意识到卡洛塔和我是彼此相爱的。
露西•亚当斯敬上
又及。有一位警官刚才来要那封信。我对他说刚刚把那封信寄给了您。这当然不是实话，但不知道为什么，我认为该让您先看到这封信。看样子伦敦警察厅要那封信证明凶手的罪行，请将信拿给他们吧。但是请务必将信还给我。您知道，这是卡洛塔对我说的最后一些话了。
“原来。你亲自给她写信了。”我将信放下后说，“波洛，你为什么那样做？你为什么要卡洛塔•亚当斯的原信呢？”
他正低头看那封附上的信。
“黑斯廷斯，你要让我说为什么，我也说不清楚。我只是希望也许那封原信可能了解一些我们不能了解的事情。”
“我真不明白你怎么能从信文内容中找出出路呢？是卡洛塔•亚当斯让女仆去寄的，那总不会有什么骗局。同时，那封信看起来，实在是普普通通的信件。”
波洛叹了一口气。
“我知道。我知道。正是因为这样，事情才更难办。因为，照这种情形看，这封信不可能是真的。”
“胡说。”
“是的。是的，确实如此。照我的推论，事情应该是有条有理，互相吻合，让人听起来觉得合情合理。但这封信，并不吻合。那么，是谁错了呢？是赫尔克里•波洛还是那封信？”
“你不会认为可能是赫尔充里。波洛的错吧？”我力求委婉地说道。
波洛瞥了我一眼，证实我的话的含意。
“有时，我是会犯错的，但这次不会。既然，很滑楚的是这封信似乎不是真的，那它就不是真的。信中有某种事实我们忽略了。我正设法把它找出来。”
说完以后，他继续用一只袖珍放大镜来研究那封信。
他把那封倩一页一页地看过之后递给栽。我确实也找不出什么有问题的地方。信上的笔迹很有体，也易辨认，并且和电报上的两容完全一致。
波洛深深地叹了一口气。
“这封信不会是伪造的。是的，前后都是同样的笔迹。不过，就像我刚才说过的，既然不可能是真的——”
他突然停止了说话。他急不可待地从我手中要回那封信，慢慢地看着。
突然，他叫了一声。
我本来已离开餐桌，站在窗口向外凝视。听到这叫声，我猛然转过身来。
波洛兴奋得发抖。他的两眼像猫一样发出绿光。他用手指颤抖地指着。
“黑斯廷斯，你看出来了吗？看这——快——来看这。”
我跑过去。他面前摊的是其中一张信纸。我却看不出上面有什么不寻常的地方。
“你没看出来吗？所有其它的信纸都有整齐的边，都是单页的。独有这一张”看见了吗？有一边不整齐。这是被人扯下去的。现在你明白我的意思了吗？这封信是双页的，以你想想，一页信纸不见了。”
我被惊得目瞪口呆。
“怎么会呢？这样读起来也通顺啊！”
“是的，的。上面的文字读起来通顺。想法的聪明之处就在这里。读一读——你就会明白了。”
我觉得除了读这页信以外。再也无能为力了。
“你现在明白了？”波洛说，。当谈到马什上尉时，就中断了。她本来正说到她替他难过。她说。‘他很欣赏我的表演’，然后，另一张信纸上她继续说‘他说——’。但是，的朋友，一页不见了。新的一页上面的‘他’也许并不是旧页上的‘他’。事实上，个‘他’。并不是原页上的‘他’。想出戏弄人的把戏的是另外一个人。你要注意，此以后，未提到名字。啊！这真是惊人的！我们的凶手不知怎样得到的这封信。信上的话将他的罪行揭露了。他当然想把这个证据完全毁灭。后来，又将信看了一遍，现有另一种办法来处理它。要是去掉一页，封信就可以被改变成让另一个人受怀疑，另一个有杀埃奇韦尔男爵嫌疑的人。啊！这真是天才！他把那一页信纸扯掉。然后再将信放回原处。”
我敬佩地望着波洛。我并不完全相信波洛的假定。我觉得很可能卡洛塔本来用的就是一张扯过的单页纸。但看到波洛那样的得意忘形，我简直不忍心将这个一般的可能性讲给他。毕竟，他也许是对的。
不过。我确实大胆地提出一两点意见，说明他那种假定有难点。
“不管那个人是惟，但是他是怎么样得到这封信的呢？亚当斯小姐直接由手提袋里拿出信来，然后她又亲自交给女仆去寄。这是那个女仆说的。”
“因此我们可以假定两点，不是那个女仆说谎。就是那天晚上。卡洛塔•亚当斯见过凶手。”
我点点头。
“我觉得后一个假定似乎可能。卡洛塔在离家以后到九点钟将手提包存在尤斯顿车站之间的那段时间在哪。我们还不清楚。我个人以为她曾和那个凶手在一个约定的地点见过面。他们或许一同吃过一点东西。他借这个机会对她作最后的指示。至于那封信下落如何。我们不得而知。不过我们可以猜猜。她也许是将那封信拿在手里，准备要寄的。她也许将信放在了餐桌上。他看到信封上写的地址，便意识到可能的危险。他也许很机敏地将信拿起，借故离开餐桌。他将那封信打开看过。将其中那页撕下，然后或是放回原处，或是在她离开的时候，递给她，说她不小心丢掉的。实际情形并不重要，但是有两点似乎是很清楚的，那就是卡洛塔•亚当斯或是在那晚男爵被杀之前。或之后见过凶手。我想。也许我可能猜错了，但是那个凶手给她的那金匣子——这匣子也许是他们初次会面时的纪念品。如果这是真的话，那么，凶手就是Ｄ。”
“我不明白为什么送那个金匣子。”
“黑斯廷斯，听我说，卡洛塔•亚当斯并不服用佛罗那。露西。亚当斯这样说了，我也相信，她说的是真的。她的眼睛黑白分明，身体很健康，并没有对这些东西有什么嗜好。她的朋友们没有一个人认识那匣子。那么，为什么在她死后，会发现她身旁有这件东西呢？是为了造成一个假象，让人们以为她确有服用麻醉剂的习惯，而且已经染上好长时间了，也就是说，至少有六个月了。我们姑且说，她在凶杀莱以后遇到凶手。即使是只有几分钟也好。他们一同喝点酒来庆功。可是，那凶手却在她的酒里放下足量的麻醉药，务必让她第二天一早醒不过来。”
“可怕。”我颤抖地说。
“是的，这可不是好玩的。”波洛不动声色地说。
“你要与贾普讲这些吗？”我过了一会问道。
“目前还不要。我们有什么可讲呢？了不起的贾普会说：‘又是漫无边际的事！那女孩是用单页纸写的！就是这样。”
我不安地望着他。
“我要说什么呢？根本没话可说。这是可能发生的。我只知道不会是这样的，因为有必要不是这样的。”
他停下来，脸上露出梦幻股的表情。
“黑斯廷斯，你想想看，如果那个人计划周密，他可以用刀裁掉而不是撕掉。那么，我们就看不出一点破绽了。一点也看不出来了。”
“所以我们可以推定他是一个粗心大意的人。”我笑着说。
“我希望你注意一件事。这个人——这个Ｄ——他一定有那天不在现场的证据。”
他停了停，接着说，
“假若他先在摄政门杀了人，又与卡洛塔•亚当斯会面，我想不出他怎么有不在现场的证据。”
“一点不错，”波洛说，“我就是这个意思。他急于找一种不在现场的证据，因此他一定是准备了一个证据。另外，还有一点，他的名字首写宇母真是Ｄ吗？或者Ｄ只是代表一个绰号，一个她知道的绰号？”
他停了停，然后又轻轻地说。
“这个名字首写字母或绰号是Ｄ的人，我们必须找到他。黑斯廷斯，是的，我们一定要找到他。”
Chapter 24 News From Paris来自巴黎的消息
Chapter 24 News From Paris
On the following day we had an unexpected visit.
Geraldine Marsh was announced.
I felt sorry for her as Poirot greeted her and set a chair for her. Her large dark eyes seemed wider and darker than ever. There were black circles round them as though she had not slept. Her face looked extraordinarily haggard and weary for one so young - little more, really, than a child.
‘I have come to see you, M. Poirot, because I don’t know how to go on any longer. I am so terribly worried and upset.’
‘Yes, Mademoiselle?’
His manner was gravely sympathetic.
‘Ronald told me what you said to him that day. I mean that dreadful day when he was arrested.’ She shivered. ‘He told me that you came up to him suddenly, just when he had said that he supposed no one would believe him, and that you said to him: “I believe you.” Is that true, M. Poirot?’
‘It is true, Mademoiselle, that is what I said.’
‘I know, but I meant not was it true you said it, but were the words really true. I mean, did you believe his story?’
Terribly anxious she looked, leaning forward there, her hands clasped together.
‘The words were true, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘I do not believe your cousin killed Lord Edgware.’
‘Oh!’ The colour came into her face, her eyes opened big and wide. ‘Then you must think - that someone else did it!’
‘Evidemment, Mademoiselle.’ He smiled. ‘I’m stupid. I say things badly. What I mean is - you think you know who that somebody is?’
She leaned forward eagerly.
‘I have my little ideas, naturally - my suspicions, shall we say?’
‘Won’t you tell me? Please - please.’
Poirot shook his head.
‘It would be - perhaps - unfair.’
‘Then you have got a definite suspicion of somebody?’
Poirot merely shook his head non-committally.
‘If only I knew a little more,’ pleaded the girl. ‘It would make it so much easier for me. And I might perhaps be able to help you. Yes, really I might be able to help you.’
Her pleading was very disarming, but Poirot continued to shake his head.
‘The Duchess of Merton is still convinced it was my stepmother,’ said the girl thoughtfully. She gave a slight questioning glance at Poirot.
He showed no reaction.
‘But I hardly see how that can be.’
‘What is your opinion of her? Of your stepmother?’
‘Well - I hardly know her. I was at school in Paris when my father married her. When I came home, she was quite kind. I mean, she just didn’t notice I was there. I thought her very empty-headed and - well, mercenary.’
Poirot nodded.
‘You spoke of the Duchess of Merton. You have seen much of her?’
‘Yes. She has been very kind to me. I have been with her a great deal during the last fortnight. It has been terrible - with all the talk, and the reporters, and Ronald in prison and everything.’ She shivered. ‘I feel I have no real friends. But the Duchess has been wonderful, and he has been nice too - her son, I mean.’
‘You like him?’
‘He is shy, I think. Stiff and rather difficult to get on with. But his mother talks a lot about him, so that I feel I know him better than I really do.’
‘I see. Tell me, Mademoiselle, you are fond of your cousin?’
‘Of Ronald? Of course. He - I haven’t seen much of him the last two years - but before that he used to live in the house. I - I always thought he was wonderful. Always joking and thinking up mad things to do. Oh! in that gloomy house of ours it made all the difference.’
Poirot nodded sympathetically, but he went on to make a remark that shocked me in its crudity.
‘You do not want to see him - hanged, then?’
‘No, no.’ The girl shivered violently. ‘Not that. Oh! if only it were her - my stepmother. It must be her. The Duchess says it must.’
‘Ah!’ said Poirot. ‘If only Captain Marsh had stayed in the taxi - eh?’
‘Yes - at least, what do you mean?’ Her brow wrinkled. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘If he had not followed that man into the house. Did you hear anyone come in, by the way?’
‘No, I didn’t hear anything.’
‘What did you do when you came into the house?’
‘I ran straight upstairs - to fetch the pearls, you know.’
‘Of course. It took you some time to fetch them.’
‘Yes. I couldn’t find the key to my jewel-case all at once.’
‘So often is that the case. The more in haste, the less the speed. It was some time before you came down, and then - you found your cousin in the hall?’
‘Yes, coming from the library.’ She swallowed.
‘I comprehend. It gave you quite a turn.’
‘Yes, it did.’ She looked grateful for his sympathetic tone. ‘It startled me, you see.’
‘Quite, quite.’
‘Ronnie just said: “Hello, Dina, got them?” from behind me - and it made me jump.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot gently. ‘As I said before it is a pity he did not stay outside. Then the taxi-driver would have been able to swear he never entered the house.’
She nodded. Her tears began to fall, splashing unheeded on her lap. She got up. Poirot took her hand.
‘You want me to save him for you - is that it?’
‘Yes, yes - oh! please, yes. You don’t know . . .’ She stood there striving to control herself, clenching her hands.
‘Life has not been easy for you, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot gently. ‘I appreciate that. No, it has not been easy. Hastings, will you get Mademoiselle a taxi?’
I went down with the girl and saw her into the taxi. She had composed herself by now and thanked me very prettily.
I found Poirot walking up and down the room, his brows knitted in thought. He looked unhappy.
I was glad when the telephone bell rang to distract him.
‘Who is that? Oh, it is Japp. Bonjour, mon ami.’
‘What’s he got to say?’ I asked, drawing nearer the telephone.
Finally, after various ejaculations, Poirot spoke. ‘Yes, and who called for it? Do they know?’ Whatever the answer, it was not what he expected. His face dropped ludicrously.
‘Are you sure?’
‘.........’
‘No, it is a little upsetting, that is all.’
‘.........’
‘Yes, I must rearrange my ideas.’
‘.........’
‘Comment?’
‘.........’
‘All the same, I was right about it. Yes, a detail, as you say.’
‘.........’
‘No, I am still of the same opinion. I would pray of you to make still further inquiries of the restaurants in the neighbourhood of Regent Gate and Euston, Tottenham Court Road and perhaps Oxford Street.’
‘.........’
‘Yes, a woman and a man. And also in the neighbour-hood of the Strand just before midnight. Comment?’
‘.........’
‘But, yes, I know that Captain Marsh was with the Dortheimers. But there are other people in the world besides Captain Marsh.’
‘.........’
‘To say I have the head of a pig is not pretty. Tout de même, oblige me in this matter, I pray of you.’
‘.........’
He replaced the receiver.
‘Well?’ I asked impatiently.
‘Is it well? I wonder. Hastings, that gold box was bought in Paris. It was ordered by letter and it comes from a well-known Paris shop which specializes in such things. The letter was supposedly from a Lady Ackerley - Constance Ackerley the letter was signed. Naturally there is no such person. The letter was received two days before the murder. It ordered the initials of (presumably) the writer in rubies and the inscription inside. It was a rush order - to be called for the following day. That is, the day before the murder.’
‘And was it called for?’
‘Yes, it was called for and paid for in notes.’
‘Who called for it?’ I asked excitedly. I felt we were getting near to the truth.
‘A woman called for it, Hastings.’
‘A woman?’ I said, surprised.
‘Mais oui. A woman - short, middle-aged, and wear - ing pince-nez.’
We looked at each other, completely baffled.

第二十四章 来自巴黎的消息
第二天，又有不速之客来访。
佣人通报说，杰拉尔丁。马什求见。
波洛与她寒喧并让座的时候，我觉得很同情她。她那双深褐色的大眼睛更大，更深了。眼睛四周有黑圈儿，好像是昨夜没睡似的。其实她还是个孩子。她的脸色憔悴而且疲倦，与她的年龄很不相称。
“波洛先生，我来找您，是因为我不知该怎样熬下去了。我非常担心。非常苦恼。”
“怎么了，小姐？”，
他的态度严肃中带着同情。
“罗纳德把您那天对他说的话告诉我了。我是指他被捕转那可怕的一天。”她浑身发抖，“他告诉我，就在他以为所有人都不会相信他的时候，您突然走上前来说，‘我相信您。’波洛先生，这是真的吗？”
“是真的，小姐。我是那么说的。”
“我知道，但我不是问您是否真的说了那话。我是说那话是真的吗。我是说，您相信他所讲的吗？”
她看起来非常焦急，两手交叉在胸前，身子向前倾着。
“小姐，那话是真的。”波洛镇静地说，“我不相信是您的堂哥杀了埃奇韦尔男爵。”
“噢！”她的脸有了血色，眼睛仍然睁得大大的“。那么。您一定以为——凶手是别人？”
“显然是的，小姐。”波洛笑了。
“我真笨。我不会说话。我的意思是——您认为您知道谁是凶手吗？”
她很急切地将身体前倾着。
“我自然有自己的一点想法——我的怀疑，可以这祥说。”
“能不能告诉我？请吧——请吧。”
波洛摇了摇头。
“这也许——大概——不公平。”
“那么，您已经肯定怀疑某个人了？”
波洛不置可否地摇了摇头。
“但愿我能再知道一点点，”女孩恳求道，“这会让我好过些。我也许能帮助你们。是的，我有可能帮助你们。”
她的恳求令人无法拒绝，但波洛仍然摇着头。
“默顿公爵夫人仍相信是我继母干的。”女孩心事重重地说着。她向波洛投去询问的目光。
他没有一点反应。
“但我认为不可能。”
“您对她意见如何？关于您的继母？”
“呃”几乎不了解她。我父亲娶她的时候，正在巴黎念书。当我回家以后，对我还不错。我是说，根本没注意我的存在。我认为她大脑很空虚——晤，贪钱。”
波洛点了点头。
“您说到了默顿公爵夫人。您见过她了？”
“是的。她对我非常好。在过去的两个星期里，常和她在一起。一切都是那么可怕——闲话，者，纳德在狱里以及其它的事。”她颤抖着。“我觉得自己没有朋友。但公爵夫人很好，——我是说她的儿子，很好。”
“您喜欢他吗？”
“他很腼腆，度呆板，难相处。但他的母亲讲了许多关于他的话，际上我更了解他。”
“我明白了。小姐，诉我，喜欢您的堂哥吗？”
“罗纳德？当然。他——我有两年没见他了。但以前他住在家里。我始终觉得他很了不起，开玩笑，能想出异想天开的事去做。噢！在我们那座阴沉的房子里，他在可就大不相同了。”
波洛同情地点点头，他接着问的一句话，么不加掩饰，让我吃惊。
“那么——您不愿意看到他被绞死了？”
“是的，的。”孩不断颤抖地说，不能那样。噢！真希望是她——我的继母。应该是她。公爵夫人说了，她。”
“啊！”波洛说，如果马什上尉呆在出租车里——呃？”
“是的——您至少得告诉我，是什么意思？”她的眉头紧皱，我不明白。”
“如果他没跟着那个人走进房子。顺便问一句，您听见有人进去了吗？”
“没有，我什么也没听见。”
“当您进了房子后，做了些什么？”
“我径直上楼去拿首饰，您知道的。”
“当然。您需要一些时间去拿。”
“是的。我不能找到装珠宝的匣子。”
“通常是那样的。越急越慢。您用了一些时间，然后下来。那么，您就发现您的堂哥在大厅里？”
“是的，从书房过来。”她咽了一口唾沫。
“我明白，这让您很吃惊。”
“是的，是这样的。”她很感激波洛同情的话语，“您知道。我吓了一跳。”
“是啊！是啊！”
“罗尼只是说，‘喂，戴娜，拿到了吗？’他从我背后说话，吓得我跳起来。”
“是的，”波洛温和地说，“就像我刚才所说的，他没呆在外面真是遗憾。要是那样，司机就可以证明他从未进过那房子。”
她点点头。眼泪流了出来，滴到她的膝上。她站了起来，波洛握住她的手。
“您想让我为您救他——是吗？”
“是的，是的。噢！请救救他吧！您不知道——”
她站在那，紧握着拳头。竭力控制着自己的情绪。
“小姐，生活对您不易啊。”波洛温和地说，“我理解。哦，是够您受的。黑斯廷斯，帮小姐叫辆车，好吗？”
我送女孩下去，送她上车。现在她已经镇静下来了。她很可爱地向我表示感谢。
我回来发现波洛正在踱来踱去，眉头紧锁，心事重重，很不开心的样子。
我很高兴这时电话铃响了，可以分分他的心。
“是谁？噢，是贾普。你好，老朋友。”
“他说什么？”我说着，凑近电话机。
他只是对着话筒发出各种不同的惊叹声，然后才说。“晤，谁定的？他们知道吗？”
不管回答是什么，反正是出乎他意料之外。他的脸又滑稽地沉了下来。
“你确定吗？”
“……”“不。只是有点烦，没别的。”“……”“是的，我必须重新考虑。”“怎么？”“……”“都一样，我是对的。正如你所说，一个枝节了。”“……”
“不。我还是那个观点。我请你再调查一下摄政门和尤斯顿车站，托特纳姆法院路，可能还有牛津街附近的餐馆。”“……”
“是的，一个男人和一个女人。还有在滨河街，半夜之前。是吗？”“……”
“是的。我知道马什上尉与多赛默一家在一起，难道这世上除了马什上尉以外，没有可能是别人了？”“……”
“说我猪脑可不好听。就这样吧，帮我这个忙，我求你了。”
他将听筒放回原处。
“怎么？”我急不可待地问。
“这样不错吗？我真不知道，黑斯廷斯，那匣子是在巴黎买的。是有人用信邮寄订购的。那商店是巴黎的一家名店。专门制造这类东西。定货的信据说署名是一位阿克利女士——康斯坦斯•阿克利。自然没有这个人。信是谋杀案发前两天收到的。信中指定在匣子里面用宝石镶出那个（假定的）写信者的姓名首写字母。那是加急定货——第二天就取货。也就是谋杀案的前一天。”“确实有人取货吗？”“是的，有人取货，而且用现钞付款。”“谁取的货？”我急切地问。我觉得就要水落石出了。
“一个女人去取的，黑斯廷斯。”“一个女人？”我惊讶地说。
“是的。一个女人——矮矮的，中等年纪并戴着夹鼻眼镜。”我们相互不解地望着对方。
Chapter 25 A Luncheon Party午宴
Chapter 25 A Luncheon Party
It was, I think, on the day after that that we went to the Widburns’ luncheon party at Claridge’s.
Neither Poirot nor I were particularly anxious to go. It was, as a matter of fact, about the sixth invitation we had received. Mrs Widburn was a persistent woman and she liked celebrities. Undaunted by refusals, she finally offered such a choice of dates that capitulation was inevitable. Under those circumstances the sooner we went and got it over the better.
Poirot had been very uncommunicative ever since the news from Paris.
To my remarks on the subject he returned always the same answer.
‘There is something here I do not comprehend.’
And once or twice he murmured to himself.
‘Pince-nez. Pince-nez in Paris.
Pince-nez in Carlotta Adams’ bag.’
I really felt glad of the luncheon party as a means of distraction.
Young Donald Ross was there and came up and greeted me cheerily. There were more men than women and he was put next to me at table.
Jane Wilkinson sat almost opposite us, and next to her, between her and Mrs Widburn, sat the young Duke of Merton.
I fancied - of course it may have been only my fancy - that he looked slightly ill at ease. The company in which he found himself was, so I should imagine, little to his liking. He was a strictly conservative and somewhat reactionary young man - the kind of character that seemed to have stepped out of the Middle Ages by some regrettable mistake. His infatuation for the extremely modern Jane Wilkinson was one of those anachronistic jokes that Nature so loves to play.
Seeing Jane’s beauty and appreciating the charm that her exquisitely husky voice lent to the most trite utterances, I could hardly wonder at his capitulation. But one can get used to perfect beauty and an intoxicating voice! It crossed my mind that perhaps even now a ray of common-sense was dissipating the mists of intoxicated love. It was a chance remark - a rather humiliating gaffe on Jane’s part that gave me that impression.
Somebody - I forgot who - had uttered the phrase ‘judgement of Paris’, and straight away Jane’s delightful voice was uplifted.
‘Paris?’ she said. ‘Why, Paris doesn’t cut any ice nowadays. It’s London and New York that count.’
As sometimes happens, the words fell in a momentary lull of conversation. It was an awkward moment. On my right I heard Donald Ross draw his breath sharply. Mrs Widburn began to talk violently about Russian opera. Everyone hastily said something to somebody else. Jane alone looked serenely up and down the table without the least consciousness of having said anything amiss.
It was then I noticed the Duke. His lips were drawn tightly together, he had flushed, and it seemed to me as though he drew slightly away from Jane. He must have had a foretaste of the fact that for a man of his position to marry a Jane Wilkinson might lead to some awkward contretemps.
As so often happens, I made the first remark that came into my head to my left-hand neighbour, a stout titled lady who arranged children’s matinees. I remember that the remark in question was: ‘Who is that extraordinary looking woman in purple at the other end of the table?’ It was, of course, the lady’s sister! Having stammered apologies, I turned and chatted to Ross, who answered in monosyllables.
It was then, rebuffed on both sides, that I noticed Bryan Martin. He must have been late for I had not seen him before.
He was a little way further down the table on my side and was leaning forward and chatting with great animation to a pretty blonde woman.
It was some time since I had seen him at close quarters, and I was struck at once by the great improvement in his looks. The haggard lines had almost disappeared. He looked younger and in every way more fit. He was laughing and chaffing his vis-à-vis and seemed in first-rate spirits.
I did not have time to observe him further, for at that moment my stout neighbour forgave me and graciously permitted me to listen to a long monologue on the beauties of a Children’s Matinee which she was organizing for Charity.
Poirot had to leave early as he had an appointment. He was investigating the strange disappearance of an Ambassador’s boots and had a rendezvous fixed for half-past two. He charged me to make his adieus to Mrs Widburn. While I was waiting to do so - not an easy matter, for she was at the moment closely surrounded by departing friends all breathing out ‘Darlings’ at a great rate - somebody touched me on the shoulder.
It was young Ross.
‘Isn’t M. Poirot here? I wanted to speak to him.’
I explained that Poirot had just departed.
Ross seemed taken aback. Looking more closely at him, I saw that something seemed to have upset him. He looked white and strained and he had a queer uncertain look in his eyes.
‘Did you want to see him particularly?’ I asked.
He answered slowly.
‘I - don’t know.’
It was such a queer answer that I stared at him in surprise. He flushed.
‘It sounds odd, I know. The truth is that something rather queer has happened. Something that I can’t make out. I - I’d like M. Poirot’s advice about it. Because, you see, I don’t know what to do - I don’t want to bother him, but -’
He looked so puzzled and unhappy that I hastened to reassure him.
‘Poirot has gone to keep an appointment,’ I said. ‘But I know he means to be back for five o’clock. Why not ring him up then, or come and see him?’
‘Thanks. Do you know, I think I will. Five o’clock?’
‘Better ring up first,’ I said, ‘and make sure before coming round.’
‘All right. I will. Thanks, Hastings. You see, I think it might - just might - be very important.’
I nodded and turned again to where Mrs Widburn was dispensing honied words and limp handshakes.
My duty done, I was turning away when a hand was slipped through my arm.
‘Don’t cut me,’ said a merry voice.
It was Jenny Driver - looking extremely chic, by the way.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Where have you sprung from?’
‘I was lunching at the next table to you.’
‘I didn’t see you. How is business?’
‘Booming, thank you.’
‘The soup plates going well?’
‘Soup plates, as you rudely call them, are going very well. When everybody has got thoroughly laden up with them, there’s going to be dirty work done. Something like a blister with a feather attached is going to be worn bang in the middle of the forehead.’
‘Unscrupulous,’ I said.
‘Not at all. Somebody must come to the rescue of the ostriches. They’re all on the dole.’
She laughed and moved away.
‘Good-bye. I’m taking an afternoon off from business. Going for a spin in the country.’
‘And very nice too,’ I said approvingly. ‘It’s stifling in London today.’
I myself walked leisurely through the park. I reached home about four o’clock. Poirot had not yet come in. It was twenty minutes to five when he returned. He was twinkling and clearly in a good humour.
‘I see, Holmes,’ I remarked, ‘that you have tracked the ambassadorial boots.’
‘It was a case of cocaine smuggling. Very ingenious. For the last hour I have been in a ladies’ beauty parlour. There was a girl there with auburn hair who would have captured your susceptible heart at once.’
Poirot always has the impression that I am particularly susceptible to auburn hair. I do not bother to argue about it.
The telephone rang.
‘That’s probably Donald Ross,’ I said as I went across to the instrument.
‘Donald Ross?’
‘Yes, the young man we met at Chiswick. He wants to see you about something.’
I took down the receiver.
‘Hello. Captain Hastings speaking.’
It was Ross.
‘Oh! is that you, Hastings? Has M. Poirot come in?’
‘Yes, he’s here now. Do you want to speak to him or are you coming round?’
‘It’s nothing much. I can tell him just as well over the telephone.’
‘Right. Hold on.’
Poirot came forward and took the receiver. I was so close that I could hear, faintly, Ross’s voice.
‘Is that M. Poirot?’ The voice sounded eager - excited.
‘Yes, it is I.’
‘Look here, I don’t want to bother you, but there’s something that seems to me a bit odd. It’s in connection with Lord Edgware’s death.’
I saw Poirot’s figure go taut.
‘Continue, continue.’
‘It may seem just nonsense to you -’
‘No, no. Tell me, all the same.’
‘It was Paris set me off. You see -’ Very faintly I heard a bell trilling.
‘Half a second,’ said Ross.
There was the sound of the receiver being laid down. We waited. Poirot at the mouthpiece. I was standing beside him.
I say - we waited . . .
Two minutes passed . . . three minutes - four minutes - five minutes.
Poirot shifted his feet uneasily. He glanced up at the clock.
Then he moved the hook up and down and spoke to the Exchange. He turned to me.
‘The receiver is still off at the other end, but there is no reply. They cannot get an answer. Quick, Hastings, look up Ross’s address in the telephone book. We must go there at once.’

第二十五章 午宴
我想是在这以后的一天，我们去克莱瑞奇饭店出席威德伯恩家的午宴。波洛和我都不热心参加。事实上，这已是我们第六次收到邀请了。威德伯恩夫人咳说是百折不挠，千方百计结交名人。她不顾被拒绝，多次邀请，最终让你无法拒绝。这种情况下，我们还是早点应酬一下为好。自从巴黎那边来了消息，波洛一直不大讲话。我每每提起这见事，他总是用同样的一种回答。“这里面有些事我不明白。”有一两次，他自言自语地说话。“夹鼻眼镜，夹鼻眼睛在巴黎。夹鼻——眼镜，在卡洛塔•亚当斯的包里。”我真高兴这个宴会可以让他换换脑筋。
年轻的唐纳德。罗斯也在那里。看见我们便愉快地过来打招呼。因为宴会上男人多，女人少。所以他正好被安排到我旁边。
简•威尔金森就坐在我对面。她旁边。在她与威德伯恩夫人之间，坐着年轻的默顿公爵。
我想——当然只是我的想象——默顿公爵不是很自在。我想，在座的人士，似乎不合他口味。他是一个绝对保守，并带有几分反抗情绪的青年。他这种人，就好像刚刚从中世纪出来，误入现代社会一样。他对那位极端现代派的简•威尔金森的迷恋就好像一个造物主专门喜欢开的时代错误的玩笑。
我看到简的美貌，深知她那沙哑的声音不论讲什么陈词滥调都会令人入迷。她能迷住公爵，我毫不惊奇。但美貌和迷人的声音，日子久了也就熟悉了。我脑中突发一个念头，好像有一丝普通常识的光线正驱散那迷恋的浓雾。那是因为一句偶然说的话——简说的话让自己出了丑，使我有这样的印象。
有人——我忘了是谁——说了一个词组“帕里斯的评判”⑨，简立刻用她迷人的腔调说话了。
“巴黎？”她说，“目前巴黎才没什么了不起的。伦敦和纽约才算得上。”
正如常发生的事一样，大家听了一时鸦雀无声，情形非常窘迫。我听到我右面的唐纳德。罗斯倒抽了一口凉气。威德伯恩先生开始大讲俄国戏剧。每个人都急忙找一个人说话。简自个看看桌这头，望望桌那头”毫不觉得说错了话。
这时我注意到公爵的表情。他嘴唇紧闭。脸上发红。在我看来，似乎移了移。以离简远一点。他一定预料到像他这样有地位的人和像筒。威尔金森这类的人物结合将常常会有这种尴尬、令人失望的场面。
正如平素一样，赶紧与我左边的一位矮胖的、有爵位的夫人讲话，是专门为儿童安排游艺节目的。我记得我的问题是，子那边穿紫衣服、很抢眼的那个女孩是谁？结果。原来是这个夫人的妹妹！结结巴巴地道歉之后。我转过来与唐纳德。罗斯聊天，他的回答也只有一两个字。
就在左右不讨好的时候，注意到布赖恩•马丁。他好像迟到了，为此前我并未见到他。
他坐在我这一边，过去一点。他正身子前倾着，劲地与一个金发碧眼的女郎说话。
我有一段时间没从这么近观察他了。我立刻觉得他的面貌有所改进。那憔悴的皱纹几乎不见了。他显得更年轻、健康了。他正哈哈大笑。很有兴致地与那位女士说笑。
我没有时间再观察他了，为我那位矮胖的芳邻己经宽恕了我的失言，以和蔼的态度淮许我听她那长长的独白了。她所谈的是关于她筹备的一个慈善性儿童游艺会有多好。
波洛因为有约会而必须提早离席。他在调查一位大使的靴子奇怪地不见了的案子，好是两点半钟面谈。他让我代他向威德伯恩夫人告别。这可不是一件容易的事。因为这时，正被一些要离开的客人团团围住。她正在匆匆忙忙地对每个人说“亲爱的”之类的话。这时有人拍了拍我的肩膀。
是年轻的罗斯先生。
“波洛先生在这里吗？我想与他谈谈。”
我解释说，刚刚离开。
罗斯似乎很吃惊。我仔细看他，现他好像在被什么事所困扰。他面色苍白，情紧张，眼露出一种难以捕捉的神色。
“您特别想见他吗？”我问。
他慢慢地回答：
“我——不知道。”
他这个回答非常奇怪，我吃惊地瞪着他。他的脸红了。
“我知道，这听起来很奇怪。可实际上是发生了奇怪的事情。我摸不清是怎么回事。我想请教波洛先生。我不知道该怎么办。我本不想麻烦他，但是——”
他的样子很困惑，不开心。我连忙安慰他。
“波洛是有一个约会。”我说，“但我知道他五点会回来的。到那时，您可以给他打电话，或来见他。”
“谢谢。您知道，我会的。是五点吗？”
“最好先打电话。”我说，“来之前先问清楚。”
“好的，我会的。谢谢，黑斯廷斯。您知道，我想这可能——只是可能——非常重要。”
我点点头，又去找威德伯恩夫人。她正说着甜美的话儿，久久地与客人握手道别。
我完成了任务，正要走开，忽然一只手勾住了我的胳膊。
“别不理我啊。”一个愉快的声音说。
原来是詹尼。德赖弗——今天特别漂亮。
“您好。”我说，“您从哪儿冒出来的？”
“我就在你们旁边的一桌吃饭啊。”
“我没有看见您。生意怎么样？”
“谢谢，很兴旺。”
“汤盘子卖得还好？”
“您所粗鲁地称之为汤盘子的东西卖得很好。当大家都大量购买以后。又会有更恶心的事发生的。会有人在帽子上插上一根羽毛，像伤疤一样，还会被戴到脑门子正中的。”
“真不像话！”我说。
“才不是的。总得有人救救驼鸟啊。它们正靠救济金活着呢。”
她笑着走开了。
“再见。我下午不做生意了，准备到乡下去走走。”
“这是个好主意，”我赞同地说，“如今伦敦天气太闷了。”
我自己悠闲地从公园走过，到家的时候大约已经有四点了。波洛还没有回来。他是四点四十分回来的。他两眼发亮。分明是心情很好。
“我看，福尔摩斯。”我说，“你一定是找到了大使的靴子了。”
“这是一个偷运毒品的案子。很巧妙的。刚才的一个小时之内，我是在美容院里。那里有一位褐发女子，会立刻迷住你这个多情者的。”
波洛总以为我喜欢褐色头发。我没心情与他争辩。
电话铃响了。
“可能是唐纳德。罗斯。”我去接电话时说。
“唐纳德。罗斯？”
“是的，我们在齐西克遇到的那个年轻人，他想找你谈些事。”
我拿下听筒。
“您好。我是黑斯廷斯上尉。”
原来是罗斯。
“噢，是您，黑斯廷斯。波洛先生回来了吗？”
“是的。现在他在这。你是想与他谈还是亲自来这？”
“没多少话，我想和他在电话里谈谈也好。”
“好吧。等一下。”
波洛走过来拿起听简。因为我离得很近，所以能隐约听到罗斯的声音。
“是波洛先生吗？”那声音听起来很急切，很紧张。
“是的，是我。”
“您看，我本不想打扰您，但有一件事，我觉得很怪。是和埃奇韦尔男爵之死一案有关。”
我看见波洛的脸突然绷得紧紧的。
“说下去，说下去。”
“您听起来也许觉得无聊。”
“不会的，不会的。告诉我，还是告诉我吧。”
“我是听到巴黎这个词才注意到的。您知道——”这时候。我可以在一旁听到电话筒里传来的隐约的铃声。
“稍等一下。”罗斯说。
接着是对方放下听筒的声音。
我们等待着……
两分钟过去了……三分钟——四分钟——五分钟。
波洛不安地换着两条腿站着。他看了看钟。
然后他按了按那电话机上的钩子。与交换台说话。然后他转向我。
“那一头电话筒还没有挂上，但没有回答。总机挂不进去。快。黑斯廷斯，从电话簿里查查罗斯的地址。我们必须马上去那里。”
Chapter 26 Paris?巴黎
Chapter 26 Paris?
A few minutes later we were jumping into a taxi.
Poirot’s face was very grave.
‘I am afraid, Hastings,’ he said. ‘I am afraid.’
‘You don’t mean -’ I said and stopped.
‘We are up against somebody who has already struck twice - that person will not hesitate to strike again. He is twisting and turning like a rat, fighting for his life. Ross is a danger. Then Ross will be eliminated.’
‘Was what he had to tell so important?’ I asked doubtfully. ‘He did not seem to think so.’
‘Then he was wrong. Evidently what he had to tell was of supreme importance.’
‘But how could anyone know?’
‘He spoke to you, you say. There, at Claridge’s. With people all round. Madness - utter madness. Ah! why did you not bring him back with you - guard him - let no one near him till I had heard what he had to say.’
‘I never thought - I never dreamt -’ I stammered.
Poirot made a quick gesture.
‘Do not blame yourself - how could you know? I - I would have known. The murderer, see you, Hastings, is as cunning as a tiger and as relentless. Ah! shall we never arrive?’
We were there at last. Ross lived in a maisonette on the first floor of a house in a big square in Kensington. A card stuck on a little slot by the door-bell gave us the information. The hall door was open. Inside was a big flight of stairs.
‘So easy to come in. None to see,’ murmured Poirot as he sprang up the stairs.
On the first floor was a kind of partition and a narrow door with a Yale lock. Ross’s card was stuck in the centre of the door.
We paused there. Everywhere there was dead silence. I pushed the door - to my surprise it yielded.
We entered.
There was a narrow hall and an open door one side, another in front of us opening into what was evidently the sitting-room.
Into this sitting-room we went. It was the divided half of a big front drawing-room. It was cheaply but comfortably furnished and it was empty. On a small table was the telephone, the receiver stood down beside the instrument.
Poirot took a swift step forward, looked round, then shook his head.
‘Not here. Come, Hastings.’
We retraced our steps and, going into the hall, we passed through the other door. The room was a tiny dining-room. At one side of the table, fallen sideways from a chair and sprawled across the table, was Ross.
Poirot bent over him.
He straightened up - his face was white. ‘He’s dead. Stabbed at the base of the skull.’
For long afterwards the events of that afternoon remained like a nightmare in my mind. I could not rid myself of a dreadful feeling of responsibility.
Much later, that evening, when we were alone together, I stammered out to Poirot my bitter self-reproachings. He responded quickly.
‘No, no, do not blame yourself. How could you have suspected? The good God has not given you a suspicious nature to begin with.’
‘You would have suspected?’
‘That is different. All my life, you see, I have tracked down murderers. I know how, each time, the impulse to kill becomes stronger, till, at last, for a trivial cause -’ He broke off.
He had been very quiet ever since our ghastly discovery. All through the arrival of the police, the questioning of the other people in the house, the hundred and one details of the dreadful routine following upon a murder, Poirot had remained aloof - strangely quiet - a far-away speculative look in his eyes. Now, as he broke off his sentence, that same far-away speculative look returned.
‘We have no time to waste in regrets, Hastings,’ he said quietly. ‘No time to say “If ” - The poor young man who is dead had something to tell us. And we know now that that something must have been of great importance - otherwise he would not have been killed. Since he can no longer tell us - we have got to guess. We have got to guess - with only one little clue to guide us.’
‘Paris,’ I said.
‘Yes, Paris.’ He got up and began to stroll up and down.
‘There have been several mentions of Paris in this business, but unluckily in different connections. There is the word Paris engraved in the gold box. Paris in November last. Miss Adams was there then - perhaps Ross was there also. Was there someone else there whom Ross knew? Whom he saw with Miss Adams under somewhat peculiar circumstances?’
‘We can never know,’ I said.
‘Yes, yes, we can know. We shall know! The power of the human brain, Hastings, is almost unlimited. What other mentions of Paris have we in connection with the case? There is the short woman with the pince-nez who called for the box at the jeweller’s there. Was she known to Ross? The Duke of Merton was in Paris when the crime was committed. Paris, Paris, Paris. Lord Edgware was going to Paris - Ah! possibly we have something there. Was he killed to prevent him going to Paris?’
He sat down again, his brows drawn together. I could almost feel the waves of his furious concentration of thought.
‘What happened at that luncheon?’ he murmured. ‘Some casual word or phrase must have shown to Donald Ross the significance of knowledge which was in his possession, but which up to then he had not known was significant. Was there some mention of France? Of Paris? Up your end of the table, I mean.’
‘The word Paris was mentioned but not in that connection.’
I told him about Jane Wilkinson’s ‘gaffe’.
‘That probably explains it,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The word Paris would be sufficient - taken in conjunction with something else. But what was that something else? At what was Ross looking? Or of what had he been speaking when that word was uttered?’
‘He’d been talking about Scottish superstitions.’
‘And his eyes were - where?’
‘I’m not sure. I think he was looking up towards the head of the table where Mrs Widburn was sitting.’
‘Who sat next to her?’
‘The Duke of Merton, then Jane Wilkinson, then some fellow I didn’t know.’
‘M. le Duc. It is possible that he was looking at M. le Duc when the word Paris was spoken. The Duke, remember, was in Paris or was supposed to be in Paris at the time of the crime. Suppose Ross suddenly remembered something which went to show that Merton was not in Paris.’
‘My dear Poirot!’
‘Yes, you consider that an absurdity. So does everyone. Had M. le Duc a motive for the crime? Yes, a very strong one. But to suppose that he committed it - oh! absurd. He is so rich, of so assured a position, of such a well-known lofty character. No one will scrutinize his alibi too carefully. And yet to fake an alibi in a big hotel is not so difficult. To go across by the afternoon service - to return - it could be done. Tell me, Hastings, did Ross not say anything when the word Paris was mentioned? Did he show no emotion?’
‘I do seem to remember that he drew in his breath rather sharply.’
‘And his manner when he spoke to you afterwards. Was it bewildered? Confused?’
‘That absolutely describes it.’
‘Précisément. An idea has come to him. He thinks it preposterous! Absurd! And yet - he hesitates to voice it. First he will speak to me. But alas! when he has made up his mind, I am already departed.’
‘If he had only said a little more to me,’ I lamented.
‘Yes. If only - Who was near you at the time?’
‘Well, everybody, more or less. They were saying goodbye to Mrs Widburn. I didn’t notice particularly.’
Poirot got up again.
‘Have I been all wrong?’ he murmured as he began once more to pace the floor. ‘All the time, have I been wrong?’
I looked at him with sympathy. Exactly what the ideas were that passed through his head I did not know. ‘Close as an oyster’ Japp had called him, and the Scotland Yard inspector’s words were truly descriptive. I only know that now, at this moment, he was at war with himself.
‘At any rate,’ I said, ‘this murder cannot be put down to Ronald Marsh.’
‘It is a point in his favour,’ my friend said absent-mindedly. ‘But that does not concern us for the moment.’
Abruptly, as before, he sat down.
‘I cannot be entirely wrong. Hastings, do you remember that I once posed to myself five questions?’
‘I seem to remember dimly something of the sort.’
‘They were: Why did Lord Edgware change his mind on the subject of divorce? What is the explanation of the letter he said he wrote to his wife and which she said she never got? Why was there that expression of rage on his face when we left his house that day? What were a pair of pince-nez doing in Carlotta Adams’ handbag? Why did someone telephone to Lady Edgware at Chiswick and immediately ring off ?’
‘Yes, these were the questions,’ I said. ‘I remember now.’
‘Hastings, I have had in mind all along a certain little idea. An idea as to who the man was - the man behind. Three of those questions I have answered - and the answers accord with my little idea. But two of the questions, Hastings, I cannot answer.
‘You see what that means. Either I am wrong as to the person, and it cannot be that person. Or else the answer to the two questions that I cannot answer is there all the time. Which is it, Hastings? Which is it?’
Rising, he went to his desk, unlocked it and took out the letter Lucie Adams had sent him from America. He had asked Japp to let him keep it a day or two and Japp had agreed. Poirot laid it on the table in front of him and pored over it.
The minutes went by. I yawned and picked up a book. I did not think that Poirot would get much result from his study. We had already gone over and over the letter. Granted that it was not Ronald Marsh who was referred to, there was nothing whatever to show who else it might be.
I turned the pages of my book . . .
Possibly dozed off . . .
Suddenly Poirot uttered a low cry. I sat up abruptly. He was looking at me with an indescribable expression, his eyes green and shining.
‘Hastings, Hastings.’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘Do you remember I said to you that if the murderer had been a man of order and method he would have cut this page, not torn it?’
‘Yes?’
‘I was wrong. There is order and method throughout this crime. The page had to be torn, not cut. Look for yourself.’
I looked.
‘Eh bien, you see?’
I shook my head.
‘You mean he was in a hurry?’
‘Hurry or no hurry it would be the same thing. Do you not see, my friend? The page had to be torn . . .’
I shook my head.
In a low voice Poirot said:
‘I have been foolish. I have been blind. But now - now - we shall get on!’

第二十六章 巴黎
几分钟以后，我们跳上一辆出租车。
波洛面容非常严肃。
“我很担心，黑斯廷斯，”他说，“我很担心。”
“你不是要说一”我说到这停了下来。
“我们现在要对付一个已经杀了两次人的家伙——他会毫不犹豫地再杀人。他像一只老鼠，扭来扭去，为活命而出击。”
“他要说的那么重要吗？”我怀疑地问。“他好像不这样认为。”
“那么他错了。很明显，他要说的东西至关重要。”
“但是别人怎么会知道呢？”
“你说，是他对你讲的。在克莱瑞奇饭店。周围都是人。疯狂——纯粹的疯狂。啊！你为什么不把他带回家，保护他，不让别人接近他，直到我听了他要说的。”
“我没想过——我从未料到——”我结结巴巴地说。
波洛很快地做了个手势。
“别责备你自己了——你怎么能知道呢？我——我该知道的。你看，黑斯廷斯。谋杀者像老虎一样又狡猾，又残酷。啊！难道我们永远弄不清吗？”
我们最终到了。罗斯住在肯辛顿的一个大：“场上一幢公寓的二楼。门铃旁边一个小槽里塞着一张硬纸片，上面有住户的姓名。厅堂的门是开着的。一进去便是一个大楼梯。
“这么容易进来，却看不见人。”波洛上楼梯时，低声说。
二楼有一个隔开的房间，门上是自动锁。罗斯的名片就插在中间。
我们停在那。四处一片寂静。
我推了推门——令我想不到的是，门竟开了。
我们走了进去。
里面有一个窄窄的门厅，厅的一边有一扇关着的门，正对着我们的那一边也有一个门，不用说是通向客厅的。
我们走入客厅。这是一个大的前厅，被隔开了一半。里面家具陈设很便宜，但却很舒适。可是房里空无一人。电话机在一张小桌上。话筒却放在电话机旁。
波洛迅速地向前走一步，四下打量一下。然后摇了摇头。
“不在这儿，来，黑斯廷斯。”
我们退回门厅，再从另一个门走进去。那是一间餐厅。罗斯就在桌子一旁的一张椅子上。他的上身斜趴在桌上。
波洛俯身去看他，然后抬起身来，脸色灰白。
“他死了。刀子是由后脑根上刺进去的。”
那天下午的经历像一场噩梦，留在我的脑海里，过了好长时间也不能忘却。我总觉得自己有责任。
那天晚上，我们单独在一起的时候，我艰难地将我的内疚向波洛倾诉出来。他的反应很快。“不要，不要，不要责备自己。你怎么能猜出来呢？首先，上帝没给你多疑的性格。”
“他也该猜疑的。″
“那就不同了。你知道，我一辈子都在寻找凶手。我知道那种杀人的欲望会越来越强，直到最后”仅为了一件小事——”他停止了说话。
自从我们那天下午发现那件可怕的事以后，一直沉默不语。案发后，察到了，问公寓里的其他人，有许多的例行公事。在这一切过程中，洛一直保待一种好像与众隔离的态度——沉默得令人奇怪——他的眼中露出一种遥远的、思索的神气。现在，的话突然中断以后，那遥远的、思索的神气又回来了。
“我们没有时间懊悔，斯廷斯，他安静地说，没有时间说‘假如’——那个死去的可怜的年轻人有话要告诉我们。我们也知道他要说的话非常重要——否则他不会被刺死的。我们必须猜，有一个线索可以指导我们。”
“巴黎。”我说。
“是的，黎，他站起身来，始在房里踱来踱去。
“这案子中不止一次涉及巴黎，是在不同的场合。那个金匣子，有巴黎的字样。去年十一月，巴黎。亚当斯小姐那时在那——也许罗斯也在那。还有谁知道罗斯在那吗？他看到谁曾在某种特定场合与亚当斯小姐在一起呢？”
“我们永远不会知道。”我说。
“不，，们可以知道的。我们会知道的。黑斯廷斯。人的大脑是无边无际的。关于这个案子，有别的场合提及巴黎吗？晤，有那个戴夹鼻眼镜的矮个子女人，经到珠宝店里去取匣子的。罗斯认识她吗？命案发生的时候，顿公爵在巴黎。巴黎，黎，黎。埃奇韦尔男爵也是计划去巴黎的——啊！我们可能找到点线索。杀死男爵是不是要阻止他去巴黎？”
他又坐了下来。双眉紧锁。我可以觉出他是怎样集中精力寻求答案的。
“那个午餐宴会上发生了什么？也许有人无意中说了一字半句，起了罗斯的注意。也许他知道某一件事，过他以前未曾注意的，在听了这话，才知道重要之处。有人提到法国没有？有人提过巴黎吗？我是说，你坐的那一边？”
“巴黎这个词是有人提过，但与那事无关。”
我对他讲了简•威尔金森出的丑。
“这也许说明了什么”，波洛若有所思地说，“‘巴黎’这个词与其它的事联系起来可能就有用了。但其它的事又是什么呢？罗斯在看什么？当有人说那个词的时候，他在说些什么？”
“他正谈论苏格兰迷信的事儿。”
“那么，他的眼睛呢？看着哪里？”
“我不太肯定。我想他是看着桌首威德伯恩夫人坐的方向。”
“她下面坐的是谁？”
“默顿公爵，然后是简•威尔金森，再后面的人，我不认识了。”
“是公爵。当有人说到巴黎那个词的时候，他可能正望着公爵。要记住，在凶杀案发生的时候，公爵在巴黎，或者应该是在巴黎的。也许罗斯突然想起一桩事情，足以证明默顿不在巴黎。”
“我亲爱的波洛！”
“是的，你以为这很可笑。每个人都会这样认为。公爵有杀人动机吗？是的，很强的动机。但假设他确实杀了人——噢！太荒唐了。他是如此富有，有地位，品格向来高尚。没有人会细查他不在现场的证据。不过，要伪造一个在某个旅店而不在现场的辨词，也不是什么难事。比如。搭下午的船渡海，干过后再回去，也是有可能的。黑斯廷斯，告诉我，当有人提到巴黎的时候，罗斯有没有说什么？他有没有任何激动的情感？”
“我好像记得他倒吸了一口凉气。”
“他后来与你说话的态度如何？是很迷惑？很不解吗？”
“就是你说的那样。”
“一点不错。他突然有了想法。他认为很荒诞！可笑！可是——他很犹豫说不说。他想先对我说，但是，唉！当他下定决心时，我已经走了。”
“要是他对我再多说一点就好了。”我懊梅地说。
“是啊！要是——那时谁在你旁边？”
“晤，可以说大家，或多或少都在。他们在向威德伯恩夫人告别。我并未特别注意谁。”
波洛又站了起来。
“难道是我都猜错了？”他又在屋里踱起步来，同时说着，“我一直都错了？”
我很同情地望着他。我不知道他脑子里确切地在想什么。贾普说他像“牡蛎”一样。嘴闭得很严。我只知道，此时此刻，他在进行思想斗争。
“不管怎么说。”我说道，“这起谋杀不能归到罗纳德。马什头上。”
“这倒对他有利呢。”我的朋友心不在焉地说，“但目前和我们无太大关系。”
突然，他又像以往那样坐下来。
“我不可能完全错的。黑斯廷斯。你还记得我曾问自己五个问题吗？”
“我似乎模糊地记得那么回事。”
“那五个问题是。埃奇韦尔男爵为什么在离婚问题上改变主意？他说他曾给他的妻子写过一封信，但她并没有收到。那么，那封信如何解释呢？我们那天出来时，他为什么那样怒容满面呢？卡洛塔•亚当斯手袋里的那副夹鼻眼镜是怎么回事？是谁为什么打电话找在齐西克的埃奇韦尔夫人。又立刻挂断了？”
“是的，是这些问题。”我说。“我现在记起来了。”
“黑斯廷斯，我脑子里一直有一点小想法，关于那个幕后人物的想法。那五个问题，我己经解答了三个，而且答案与我的想法吻合。但是，黑斯廷斯，其余的两个问题，我找不到答案。
“那么，你就知道怎么回事了。或者把那个人猜错了。不可能是那个人。或者那两个问题的答案一直摆在那儿。是哪一个呢？黑斯廷斯？是哪一个呢？”
他站起来，走向他的书桌，打开抽屉的锁，从里面拿出露西。亚当斯从美国发来的信。他要求贾普把信放在他这里一两天，贾普已经答应了。波洛把那封信放在桌子上，又仔细阅读起来。
时间一分一分地过去，我打着哈欠，拿起一本书来看。我以为波洛不会研究出什么结果的。我们已经将那信读了好几遍了。姑且承认信上所指的不是罗纳德。马什，但是也没有东西可以证明另一个人是谁。
我翻着书页……
我也许睡着了……
突然波洛大叫一声。我猛然坐了起来。
他正以一种难以形容的表情望着我，两眼发绿，炯炯放光。
“黑斯廷斯，黑斯廷斯！”
“怎么了，什么事？”
“记得我对你说过，如果那个凶手是一个有条理的人，就不会撕掉那页信，而会用剪刀剪掉吗？”
“怎么？”
“我错了。这桩谋杀案是有条有理的。这一页是被撕掉的。不是被剪的。你自已看。”
我看那封信。
“那么，你看？”
我摇着头。
“你是说，他是匆匆忙忙来不及剪吗？”
“匆忙，不匆忙都是一回事。我的朋友，你没看出来吗？那页是被撕……”
我摇摇头。
波洛低低的声音说。
“我真傻，我真是瞎了眼。但是，现在——现在——我们要向前走。”
Chapter 27 Concerning Pince-Nez关于夹鼻眼镜
Chapter 27 Concerning Pince-Nez
A minute later his mood had changed. He sprang to his feet.
I also sprang to mine - completely uncomprehending but willing.
‘We will take a taxi. It is only nine o’clock. Not too late to make a visit.’
I hurried after him down the stairs.
‘Whom are we going to visit?’
‘We are going to Regent Gate.’
I judged it wisest to hold my peace. Poirot, I saw, was not in the mood for being questioned. That he was greatly excited I could see. As we sat side by side in the taxi his fingers drummed on his knees with a nervous impatience most unlike his usual calm.
I went over in my mind every word of Carlotta Adams’ letter to her sister. By this time I almost knew it by heart. I repeated again and again to myself Poirot’s words about the torn page.
But it was no good. As far as I was concerned, Poirot’s words simply did not make sense. Why had a page got to be torn. No, I could not see it.
A new butler opened the door to us at Regent Gate. Poirot asked for Miss Carroll, and as we followed the butler up the stairs I wondered for the fiftieth time where the former ‘Greek god’ could be. So far the police had failed utterly to run him to earth. A sudden shiver passed over me as I reflected that perhaps he, too, was dead . . .
The sight of Miss Carroll, brisk and neat and eminently sane, recalled me from these fantastic speculations. She was clearly very much surprised to see Poirot.
‘I am glad to find you still here, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot as he bowed over her hand. ‘I was afraid you might be no longer in the house.’
‘Geraldine would not hear of my leaving,’ said Miss Carroll. ‘She begged me to stay on. And really, at a time like this, the poor child needs someone. If she needs nothing else, she needs a buffer. And I can assure you, when need be, I make a very efficient buffer, M. Poirot.’
Her mouth took on a grim line. I felt that she would have a short way with reporters or news hunters.
‘Mademoiselle, you have always seemed to me the pattern of efficiency. The efficiency, I admire it very much. It is rare. Mademoiselle Marsh no, she has not got the practical mind.’
‘She’s a dreamer,’ said Miss Carroll. ‘Completely impractical. Always has been. Lucky she hasn’t got her living to get.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘But I don’t suppose you came here to talk about people being practical or impractical. What can I do for you, M. Poirot?’
I do not think Poirot quite liked to be recalled to the point in this fashion. He was somewhat addicted to the oblique approach. With Miss Carroll, however, such a thing was not practicable. She blinked at him suspiciously through her strong glasses.
‘There are a few points on which I should like definite information. I know I can trust your memory, Miss Carroll.’
‘I wouldn’t be much use as a secretary if you couldn’t,’ said Miss Carroll grimly.
‘Was Lord Edgware in Paris last November?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell me the date of his visit?’
‘I shall have to look it up.’
She rose, unlocked a drawer, took out a small bound book, turned the pages and finally announced:
‘Lord Edgware went to Paris on November 3rd and returned on the 7th. He also went over on November 20th and returned on December 4th. Anything more?’
‘Yes. For what purpose did he go?’
‘On the first occasion he went to see some statuettes which he thought of purchasing and which were to be auctioned later. On the second occasion he had no definite purpose in view so far as I know.’
‘Did Mademoiselle Marsh accompany her father on either occasion?’
‘She never accompanied her father on any occasion, M. Poirot. Lord Edgware would never have dreamed of such a thing. At that time she was at a convent in Paris, but I do not think her father went to see her or took her out - at least it would surprise me very much if he had.’
‘You yourself did not accompany him?’
‘No.’
She looked at him curiously and then said abruptly: ‘Why are you asking me these questions, M. Poirot? What is the point of them?’
Poirot did not reply to this question. Instead he said:
‘Miss Marsh is very fond of her cousin, is she not?’
‘Really, M. Poirot, I don’t see what that has got to do with you.’
‘She came to see me the other day! You knew that?’
‘No, I did not.’ She seemed startled. ‘What did she say?’
‘She told me - though not in actual words - that she was very fond of her cousin.’
‘Well, then, why ask me?’
‘Because I seek your opinion.’
This time Miss Carroll decided to answer. ‘Much too fond of him in my opinion. Always has been.’
‘You do not like the present Lord Edgware?’
‘I don’t say that. I’ve no use for him, that’s all. He’s not serious. I don’t deny he’s got a pleasant way with him. He can talk you round. But I’d rather see Geraldine getting interested in someone with a little more backbone.’
‘Such as the Duke of Merton?’
‘I don’t know the Duke. At any rate, he seems to take the duties of his position seriously. But he’s running after that woman - that precious Jane Wilkinson.’
‘His mother -’
‘Oh! I dare say his mother would prefer him to marry Geraldine. But what can mothers do? Sons never want to marry the girls their mothers want them to marry.’
‘Do you think that Miss Marsh’s cousin cares for her?’
‘Doesn’t matter whether he does or doesn’t in the position he’s in.’
‘You think, then, that he will be condemned?’
‘No, I don’t. I don’t think he did it.’
‘But he might be condemned all the same?’
Miss Carroll did not reply. ‘I must not detain you.’ Poirot rose. ‘By the way, did you know Carlotta Adams?’
‘I saw her act. Very clever.’
‘Yes, she was clever.’ He seemed lost in meditation. ‘Ah! I have put down my gloves.’
Reaching forward to get them from the table where he had laid them, his cuff caught the chain of Miss Carroll’s pince-nez and jerked them off. Poirot retrieved them and the gloves which he had dropped, uttering confused apologies.
‘I must apologize also once more for disturbing you,’ he ended. ‘But I fancied there might be some clue in a dispute Lord Edgware had with someone last year. Hence my questions about Paris. A forlorn hope, I fear, but Mademoiselle seemed so very positive it was not her cousin who committed the crime. Remarkably positive she was. Well, goodnight, Mademoiselle, and a thousand pardons for disturbing you.’
We had reached the door when Miss Carroll’s voice recalled us.
‘M. Poirot, these aren’t my glasses. I can’t see through them.’
‘Comment?’ Poirot stared at her in amazement. Then his face broke up into smiles.
‘Imbecile that I am! My own glasses fell out of my pocket as I stooped to get the gloves and pick up yours. I have mixed the two pairs. They look very alike, you see.’
An exchange was made, with smiles on both sides, and we took our departure.
‘Poirot,’ I said when we were outside. ‘You don’t wear glasses.’
He beamed at me.
‘Penetrating! How quickly you see the point.’
‘Those were the pince-nez I found in Carlotta Adams’ handbag?’
‘Correct.’
‘Why did you think they might be Miss Carroll’s?’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders. ‘She is the only person connected with the case who wears glasses.’
‘However, they are not hers,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘So she affirms.’
‘You suspicious old devil.’
‘Not at all, not at all. Probably she spoke the truth. I think she did speak the truth. Otherwise I doubt if she would have noticed the substitution. I did it very adroitly, my friend.’
We were strolling through the streets more or less at random. I suggested a taxi, but Poirot shook his head.
‘I have need to think, my friend. Walking aids me.’
I said no more. The night was a close one and I was in no hurry to return home.
‘Were your questions about Paris mere camouflage?’ I asked curiously.
‘Not entirely.’
‘We still haven’t solved the mystery of the initial D,’ I said thoughtfully. ‘It’s odd that nobody to do with the case has an initial D - either surname or Christian name - except - oh! yes, that’s odd - except Donald Ross himself. And he’s dead.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot in a sombre voice. ‘He is dead.’
I remembered another evening when three of us had walked at night. Remembered something else, too, and drew my breath in sharply.
‘By Jove, Poirot,’ I said. ‘Do you remember?’
‘Remember what, my friend?’
‘What Ross said about thirteen at table. And he was the first to get up.’
Poirot did not answer. I felt a little uncomfortable as one always does when superstition is proved justified.
‘It is queer,’ I said in a low voice. ‘You must admit it is queer.’
‘Eh?’
‘I said it was queer - about Ross and thirteen. Poirot, what are you thinking about?’
To my utter amazement and, I must admit, somewhat to my disgust, Poirot began suddenly to shake with laughter. He shook and he shook. Something was evidently causing him the most exquisite mirth.
‘What the devil are you laughing at?’ I said sharply.
‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ gasped Poirot. ‘It is nothing. It is that I think of a riddle I heard the other day. I will tell it to you. What is it that has two legs, feathers, and barks like a dog?’
‘A chicken, of course,’ I said wearily. ‘I knew that in the nursery.’
‘You are too well informed, Hastings. You should say, “I do not know.” And then me, I say, “A chicken,” and then you say, “But a chicken does not bark like a dog,” and I say, “Ah! I put that in to make it more difficult.” Supposing, Hastings, that there we have the explanation of the letter D?’
‘What nonsense!’
‘Yes, to most people, but to a certain type of mind. Oh! if I had only someone I could ask . . .’
We were passing a big cinema. People were streaming out of it discussing their own affairs, their servants, their friends of the opposite sex, and just occasionally, the picture they had just seen.
With a group of them we crossed the Euston Road.
‘I loved it,’ a girl was sighing. ‘I think Bryan Martin’s just wonderful. I never miss any picture he’s in. The way he rode down the cliff and got there in time with the papers.’
Her escort was less enthusiastic.
‘Idiotic story. If they’d just had the sense to ask Ellis right away. Which anyone worth sense would have done -’
The rest was lost. Reaching the pavement I turned back to see Poirot standing in the middle of the road with buses bearing down on him from either side. Instinctively I put my hands over my eyes. There was a jarring of brakes, and some rich bus driver language. In a dignified manner Poirot walked to the kerb. He looked like a man walking in his sleep.
‘Poirot,’ I said, ‘were you mad?’
‘No, mon ami. It was just that - something came to me. There, at that moment.’
‘A damned bad moment,’ I said. ‘And very nearly your last one.’
‘No matter. Ah, mon ami - I have been blind, deaf, insensible. Now I see the answers to all those questions - yes, all five of them. Yes - I see it all . . . So simple, so childishly simple . . .’

第二十七章 关于夹鼻眼镜
过了一会，他的心情改变了。他忽然站起来，我也站了起来——不知为什么，但很心甘情愿的。
“我们要叫辆出租车。现在才九点，现在去拜访一个人并不晚。”
我和他匆匆地下了楼。
“我们要去拜访谁？”
“我们是去摄政门。”
我认为最好还是不要多问。我看得出，波洛并没有心思回答问题。我明白他很兴奋。我们并肩坐在出租车里，他的手指敲着膝盖，那种急躁、不安与他平时镇定的态度迎然不同。
我又想起卡洛塔•亚当斯在写给她妹妹信中的每一个字。现在我已经用心记住其中的每句话了。我一遍又一遍地对自己重复波洛所说的撕去一页的话。
但是毫无用处。就我而言，波洛的话毫无意义。为什么会有一页被撕掉呢？我不明白。
到了摄政门，一个新管家给我们开门。波洛说要见卡罗尔小姐。当我们随管家上楼梯时，不知出现过多少次的疑问又浮在脑中，长得如希腊神像的管家跑到哪儿去了。目前为止，警方还未发现他的踪迹。我突然打了个寒战，因为我想也许他已经死了。
一见到那个行动敏捷、稳健、整洁的卡罗尔小姐，我才从荒诞的幻想中回过神来。她看到波洛很惊讶。
“女士，我很高兴在这儿见到您。”波洛鞠躬行吻手礼，“我还以为您也许不在这儿了呢。”
“杰拉尔丁说什么也不让我走。”卡罗尔小姐说，“她求我待在这里。确实，在这个时候，可怜的孩子需要人照顾。她现在最需要的是一个会安慰的人。波洛先生，我敢向您保证，在需要的时候，我会是个很好的安慰者。”
她嘴上露出一种冷冷的表情。我觉得她有办法对付记者和猎取新闻的人。
“女士。在我看来，您是效率的代表。效率，我很崇拜它。它是很稀有的。马什小姐没有，她是没有现实头脑的人。”
“她是一个梦幻家，一点也不实际。她向来如此。幸亏她不需要靠自己谋生。”
“是的，确实。”
“但是，我想您来这儿不是谈人现实不现实的。波洛先生。我能为您做什么？”
我想波洛大概不十分喜欢别人用这种方式提醒他要说的话。他好像已经习惯用转弯抹角的方式谈话。但是，对于卡罗尔小姐而论，这种方式是不实际的。她透过高度的近视眼镜，向波洛疑心地眨着眼。
“我有几点问题想请您确定一下。卡罗尔小姐，我知道您的记忆力是靠得住的。”
“否则，我当什么秘书。”卡罗尔小姐冷冷地说。
“去年十一月，埃奇韦尔男爵在巴黎吗？”
“是的。”
“您能告诉我他去巴黎的日期吗？”
“那我得查一查。”
她站起身来，打开抽屉的锁，拿出一本小册子，翻阅一番，最后说；
“埃奇韦尔男爵在十一月三曰去的巴黎，七日回来的。他在十一月二十日又去了一趟，十二月四日回来的。还有什么吗？”
“是的，他去的目的是什么？”
“第一次，他是去看几件雕像，因为这些雕像会在拍卖会上被拍卖，而他想买。第二次，就我所知，他没有什么固定的目的。”
“这两次，马什小姐没有陪她父亲去吗？”
“她从未陪她父亲去过，波洛先生。埃奇韦尔先生从未这么想过。其实，当时她是在巴黎的一家修道院里，但我想她的父亲不会去将她领出来的——至少是如果他这么做了，我会感到非常奇怪的。”
“您自己也没陪他去？”
“没有。”
她好奇地望着他，突然问道，
“波洛先生，您为什么问我这些问题？您目的何在？”
波洛没有回答这个问题。却问道。
“马什小姐很喜欢她的堂哥，是吗？”
“波洛先生，我不明白，难道这与您有什么关系吗？”
“她前几天来过我那儿！您知道吗？”
“不，我不知道。”她似乎很惊讶，“她说了什么？”
“她对我讲——尽管这实际上不是她的原话——她相喜欢他的堂哥。”
“晤，那么，为什么问我呢？”
“因为我要征求您的意见。”
这一次，卡罗尔小姐决定回答。
“要我看是非常喜欢。一直是那样。”
“您不喜欢现任埃奇韦尔男爵？”
“我不能那么说。我不习惯他这个人。就是这样。他不认真。不过我不否认他挺讨人喜欢的。他能花言巧语骗住你。我倒希望杰拉尔丁对一个有骨气的人感兴趣。”
“比如默顿公爵？”
“我不认识默顿公爵。不过，无论怎样，他似乎对自己的身份职责看得很认真。但是他正追那个女人——那个宝贝的简•威尔金森。”
“他的母亲——”
“噢！我敢说他的母亲是愿意他娶杰拉尔丁。但母亲又能怎么做呢？儿子总是不愿意娶母亲想让他们娶的女孩。”
“您认为马什小姐的堂兄喜欢她吗？”
“就他现在的处境，喜欢不喜欢没什么关系。”
“那么，您认为他会被判刑吗？”
“不，我不这样认为。我认为不是他杀的。”
“但他还是会被判刑？”
卡罗尔小姐没有回答。
“我不能再耽搁您的时间了。”波洛站起来说，“顺便问一下，您认识卡洛塔•亚当斯吗？”
“我看过她的表演。非常聪明的。”
“是的，她很聪明。”他似乎又陷入沉思。“啊！我将手套放在桌上了。”
他伸手从桌子上拿手套的时候，他的袖口挂住了卡罗尔小姐的夹鼻眼镜的链子，一下子把眼镜碰掉了。波洛将掉到地上的眼镜和手套拾起。连连道歉。
“我再一次抱歉，给您添麻烦了。”他说，“可我还以为会找到一些去年埃奇韦尔男爵与人争执的线索呢。所以我询问巴黎的问题。我恐怕这是不成立的。但是杰拉尔丁似乎很肯定不是她的堂兄杀的人。她相当肯定。好吧，女士，晚安。再一次抱歉，真是打扰您了。”
我们走到门口，卡罗尔小姐的声音又把我们叫住了。
“波洛先生，这不是我的限镜。我戴上看不清东西。”
“怎么？”波洛吃惊地盯着她。然后他脸上露出了笑容。
“我真笨！我弯腰拾手套时，将自己的眼镜掉了，后来拾起了您的，结果把两副眼镜弄混了。您看，这两副有多像。”
双方将眼镜换过来后，面带笑容地互相告辞了。
“波洛，”我们出去后，我说道，“你根本不戴眼镜的。”
他对我笑笑。
“好厉害！你很快就看出来了。”
“那是在卡洛塔•亚当斯手提袋里的眼镜。”
“对啊。”
“你为什么认为那可能是卡罗尔小姐的？”
波洛耸耸肩膀。
“她是与本案有关人士中惟一戴眼镜的。”
“但眼镜不是她的。”我思索着说。
“她这么说的。”
“你这个多疑的家伙。”
“一点不是。一点也不是。也许她说的是真的。我认为她是在说实话。否则，她也许发现不出是换过的眼镜。我的朋友，我的手法是很机灵的。”
我们在街上有些漫无目的地踱着。我建议叫一辆出租车，但是波洛摇头反对。
“我需要思考，我的朋友，步行能有助于我思考。”
我不再说什么了。那个夜晚很闷，我也不急着回家。
“你说巴黎的问题只是伪装吧？”我好奇地问道。
“也不全是。”
“我们还没有找出首写字母是Ｄ这谜团的答案。”我思考着说，“奇怪，与案子有关的人首写字母。无论是姓，还是教名，都没有是Ｄ的。除了，噢！是的，除了唐纳德。罗斯本人。但他死了。
“是的。”波洛低沉着声昔说，“他已经死了。”
我忽然想起另外一个傍晚，我们三个人一起走。同时，我又想起一件事来，不觉倒吸了一口凉气。
“天哪！波洛，”，我说，“你记得吗？”
“记得什么？我的朋友。”
“记得罗斯提到十三个人在宴会上吗？他是第一个站起离席的。”
波洛没有日答。我如常人一样，当迷信应验时，觉得很不安。
“真是奇怪”，我低低的声音说，“你不得不承认这很奇怪。”
“呃？”
“我说这件事很奇怪——关于罗斯，还有十三。波洛，你在想什么？”
让我惊讶，同时我得承认也让我觉得讨厌的是，波洛捧腹大笑，久久不停。一定是什么事让他觉得相当好笑。
“你到底笑什么？”我尖声地问。
“噢！噢！噢！”波洛喘着气说，“没什么。我想起了前几天听到的一个谜。我来给你讲。什么东西两条腿，一身毛，叫起来像狗？”
“当然是鸡了。”我厌倦地说，“我小时候就知道。”
“黑斯廷斯，你知道得太多了。你应该说‘我不知道。’然后我说，‘是鸡。’那么，你再说，‘但是鸡不是像狗一样叫的。’最后我说，‘啊！我加上这一句是想把谜语变得更难些。’黑斯廷斯，假如说那个Ｄ字的解释就是如此，你感想如何？”
“真无聊！”
“是啊，对于大多数人而言，这似乎是无聊的。但是对于有头脑的人可不是。噢！如果我可以问一个人——”
我们经过了一个大电影院。观众如潮水般涌了出来，谈论着自己的事情——仆人，异性朋友，偶尔还会说说刚刚看过的片子。
我们同部分观众一同走过尤斯路。
“我喜欢这个片子。”一个女孩感叹着，“我认为布赖恩•马丁棒极了。他演的片子，我一个也没错过。他骑马奔下悬崖，及时送到文件，真棒。”
她的同伴不如她那样激动。
“多傻的电影。假若他们有点脑子，马上去问问埃利斯不就解决问题了吗？其实任何有常识的人都会——”
其余的话就听不见了。我走到人行道上，回头看见波洛站在马路中央。两头都有公共汽车向他开过来。我本能地用手捂住了眼睛。只听见刹车声和司机的咒骂声。波洛却一本正经地走到人行道上的镰边石上，他简直像个梦游者。
“波洛”，我说道，“你疯了吗？”
“没有，我的朋友。只是——我突然想起一件事。就在那，突然的一刹那。”
“那可怕的一刹那。啊！我的朋友——我一直是又聋、又瞎、又麻木。现在我可以解答全部问题了。是的。那五个问题。是的一—我明白了……如此简卑。如此幼稚而简单。”
Chapter 28 Poirot Asks a Few Questions波洛发问
Chapter 28 Poirot Asks a Few Questions
We had a curious walk home.
Poirot was clearly following out some train of thought in his own mind. Occasionally he murmured a word under his breath. I heard one or two of them. Once he said, ‘Candles’, and another time he said something that sounded like ‘douzaine’. I suppose if I had been really bright I should have seen the line his thoughts were taking. It was really such a clear trail. However, at the time, it sounded to me mere gibberish.
No sooner were we at home than he flew to the telephone. He rang up the Savoy and asked to speak to Lady Edgware.
‘Not a hope, old boy,’ I said with some amusement.
Poirot, as I have often told him, is one of the worst-informed men in the world.
‘Don’t you know?’ I went on. ‘She’s in a new play. She’ll be at the theatre. It’s only half-past ten.’
Poirot paid no attention to me. He was speaking to the hotel clerk, who was evidently telling him exactly what I had just told him.
‘Ah! is that so? I should like then to speak to Lady Edgware’s maid.’
In a few minutes the connection was made.
‘Is that Lady Edgware’s maid? This is M. Poirot speaking. M. Hercule Poirot. You remember me, do you not?’
‘.........’
‘Três bien. Now, you understand, something of importance has arisen. I would like you to come and see me at once.’
‘.........’
‘But yes, very important. I will give you the address. Listen carefully.’
He repeated it twice, then hung up the receiver with a thoughtful face.
‘What is the idea?’ I asked curiously. ‘Have you really got a piece of information?’
‘No, Hastings, it is she who will give me the information.’
‘What information?’
‘Information about a certain person.’
‘Jane Wilkinson?’
‘Oh! as to her, I have all the information I need. I know her back side before, as you say.’
‘Who, then?’
Poirot gave me one of his supremely irritating smiles and told me to wait and see.
He then busied himself in tidying up the room in a fussy manner.
Ten minutes later the maid arrived. She seemed a little nervous and uncertain. A small neat figure dressed in black, she peered about her doubtfully.
Poirot bustled forward.
‘Ah! you have come. That is most kind. Sit here, will you now, Mademoiselle - Ellis, I think?’
‘Yes, sir. Ellis.’
She sat down on the chair Poirot had drawn forward for her.
She sat with her hands folded on her lap looking from one to the other of us. Her small bloodless face was quite composed and her thin lips were pinched together.
‘To begin with, Miss Ellis, you have been with Lady Edgware how long?’
‘Three years, sir.’
‘That is as I thought. You know her affairs well.’
Ellis did not reply. She looked disapproving.
‘What I mean is, you should have a good idea of who her enemies are likely to be.’
Ellis compressed her lips more tightly.
‘Most women have tried to do her a spiteful turn, sir. Yes, they’ve all been against her, nasty jealousy.’
‘Her own sex did not like her?’
‘No, sir. She’s too good looking. And she always gets what she wants. There’s a lot of nasty jealousy in the theatrical profession.’
‘What about men?’
Ellis allowed a sour smile to appear on her withered countenance.
‘She can do what she likes with the gentlemen, sir, and that’s a fact.’
‘I agree with you,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘Yet, even allowing for that, I can imagine circumstances arising -’ He broke off.
Then he said in a different voice:
‘You know Mr Bryan Martin, the film actor?’
‘Oh! yes, sir.’
‘Very well?’
‘Very well, indeed.’
‘I believe I am not mistaken in saying that a little less than a year ago Mr Bryan Martin was very deeply in love with your mistress.’
‘Head over ears, sir. And it’s “is” not “was”, if you ask me.’
‘He believed at that time she would marry him - eh?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did she ever seriously consider marrying him?’
‘She thought of it, sir. If she could have got her freedom from his lordship, I believe she would have married him.’
‘And then, I suppose, the Duke of Merton appeared on the scene?’
‘Yes, sir. He was doing a tour through the States. Love at first sight it was with him.’
‘And so goodbye to Bryan Martin’s chances?’
Ellis nodded.
‘Of course Mr Martin made an enormous amount of money,’ she explained. ‘But the Duke of Merton had position as well. And her ladyship is very keen on position. Married to the Duke, she’d have been one of the first ladies in the land.’
The maid’s voice held a smug complacency. It amused me.
‘So Mr Bryan Martin was - how do you say - turned down? Did he take it badly?’
‘He carried on something awful, sir.’
‘Ah!’
‘He threatened her with a revolver once. And the scenes he made. It frightened me, it did. He was drinking a lot, too. He went all to pieces.’
‘But in the end he calmed down.’
‘So it seemed, sir. But he still hung about. And I didn’t like the look in his eye. I’ve warned her ladyship about it, but she only laughed. She’s one who enjoys feeling her power, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘I think I know what you mean.’
‘We’ve not seen so much of him just lately, sir. A good thing in my opinion. He’s beginning to get over it, I hope.’
‘Perhaps.’
Something in Poirot’s utterance of the word seem to strike her. She asked anxiously:
‘You don’t think she’s in danger, sir?’
‘Yes,’ said Poirot gravely. ‘I think she is in great danger. But she has brought it on herself.’
His hand, running aimlessly along the mantelshelf, caught a vase of roses and it toppled over. The water fell on Ellis’s face and head. I had seldom known Poirot clumsy, and I could deduce from it that he was in a great state of mental perturbation. He was very upset - rushed for a towel - tenderly assisted the maid to dry her face and neck and was profuse in apologies.
Finally a treasury note changed hands and he escorted her towards the door, thanking her for her goodness in coming.
‘But it is still early,’ he said, glancing at the clock. ‘You will be back before your mistress returns.’
‘Oh! that is quite all right, sir. She is going out to supper, I think, and anyway, she never expects me to sit up for her unless she says so special.’
Suddenly Poirot flew off at a tangent. ‘Mademoiselle, pardon me, but you are limping.’
‘That’s nothing, sir. My feet are a little painful.’
‘The corns?’ murmured Poirot in the confidential voice of one sufferer to another.
Corns, apparently, it was. Poirot expatiated upon a certain remedy which, according to him, worked wonders.
Finally Ellis departed.
I was full of curiosity.
‘Well, Poirot?’ I said. ‘Well?’
He smiled at my eagerness.
‘Nothing more this evening, my friend. Tomorrow morning early, we will ring up Japp. We will ask him to come round. We will also ring up Mr Bryan Martin. I think he will be able to tell us something interesting. Also, I wish to pay him a debt that I owe him.’
‘Really?’
I looked at Poirot sideways. He was smiling to himself in a curious way.
‘At any rate,’ I said, ‘you can’t suspect him of killing Lord Edgware. Especially after what we’ve heard of tonight. That would be playing Jane’s game with a vengeance. To kill off the husband so as to let the lady marry someone else is a little too disinterested for any man.’
‘What profound judgement!’
‘Now don’t be sarcastic,’ I said with some annoyance. ‘And what on earth are you fiddling with all the time?’
Poirot held the object in question up.
‘With the pince-nez of the good Ellis, my friend. She left them behind.’
‘Nonsense! She had them on her nose when she went out.’
He shook his head gently.
‘Wrong! Absolutely wrong! What she had on, my dear Hastings, were the pair of pince-nez we found in Carlotta Adams’ handbag.’
I gasped.

第二十八章 波洛发问
我们回家这一路怪怪的。
波洛脑袋里在很清晰地考虑着一连串问题。偶尔他会低声说出一两个字来。我也听到几个字。一次听他说“蜡烛”，另一次听他说“一打”一类的字。我想，要是我脑袋聪明一点，我该明白他的思路如何。事实上他所想的是一串清晰的思路。但在那个时候，我只觉得是一堆笑料。
我们一到家，他就跑到电话机旁。他叫了萨伏依饭店，要与埃奇韦尔夫人说话。
“没希望的，老伙计。”我打趣地说。
我曾一再对波洛说，他是世上消息最不灵通的人。
“你不知道吗？”我接着说道，“她在演一部新戏。她在戏院里。现在只有一点半钟。”
波洛不理会我。他在同旅店的职员讲话，而且那一边也一定在讲我刚才告诉他的话。
“啊！是吗？我要和埃奇韦尔夫人的女仆讲话。”
几分钟以后，电话接通了。
“是埃奇韦尔夫人的女仆吗？我是波洛先生。赫尔克里•波洛。你记得我吗？”“……”
“很好。现在”知道，生了些重要的事。我需要你立即来见我。”……”
“是的，重要。我给你地址，听好。”
他重复了两遍，后心事重重地挂上电话。
“什么主意？”我好奇地问，你真的得到了一条重要消息？）”
“没有，黑斯廷斯。是她要告诉我一些重要消息。”
“什么消息？”
“关于一个人的消息。”
“简•威尔金森？”
“噢！关于她，我有足够我要知道的消息。正如你所说的，我已看穿了她的一切。”
“那个人是谁呢？”
波洛又露出那种令人生气的笑容叫我等着瞧。
然后他又小题大做地开始整理房间。
十分钟以后，女仆到了。她看起来很紧张不安。她个子矮小。穿着一件黑衣，用疑惑的目光看着四周。
波洛急忙迎上去。
“啊！你来了。这太好了。坐这吧，埃利斯女士，是吧？”
“是的，先生。我是叫埃利斯。”
她坐在波洛搬过去的那把椅子上。
她两手交叉放在膝上。望望我，又望望波洛。她那毫无血色、小小的脸上露出镇定的样子。她的双唇绷得很紧。
“首先，埃利斯小姐，你同埃奇韦尔夫人在一起多久了？”
“三年。先生。”
“我是这么想的。你对她的事相当了解了？”
埃利斯没有回答。她露出不以为然的样子。
“我的意思是，你应该知道她的仇人可能会是谁吧？”
埃利斯双唇绷得更紧了。
“很多女人都想对付她。是的，她们都反对她，都有很重的嫉妒心。”
“同性的朋友不喜欢她。是吗？”
“是的，先生。她太好看了。而且她一向想要什么就有什么。干戏剧这一行的，有很多人嫉妒呢。”
“男性呢？”
“先生，对于男人，她想怎么着，就怎么着。这倒是真的。”
埃利斯干瘪的面容上露出一种苦笑。
“我同意你的话。”波洛笑着说，“不过，即使这是事实，我想情况也有可能变化——”他停下不说了。
然后他换一种语调说起话来。
“你认识布赖恩•马丁，那个电影明星吗？”
“噢！是的，先生。”
“相当认识？”
“确实很熟。”
“我想。差不多一年以前。布赖恩•马丁曾非常爱你的女主人。”
“爱得不顾一切，先生。而且不只是以前‘曾经’，现在也如此，如果您问我的话。”
“他曾以为她会嫁给他。是吗？”
“是的，先生。”
“她认真考虑过要嫁他吗？”
“她考虑过的，先生。如果她能摆脱男爵，我想她会嫁给他的。”
“后来，我想是默顿公爵出现了。”
“是的。先生。他正在美国游览。她一见他就爱上了他。”
“那么布赖恩•马丁就无望了。”
埃利斯点点头。
“当然，马丁先生赚了不少钱。”她解释道，“但是默顿公爵还有地位。女主人很爱地位的。要是嫁给公爵，她就是国内头等的贵妇了。”
女仆的声音中有一种沾沾自喜的昧道，令我觉得好笑。
“所以布赖恩•马丁先生一你怎么说好——被拒绝了。”
“先生，他表现得很可怕呢。”
“啊！”
“他用手枪威吓她。那情形让我很害怕。他还喝了好多酒。他完全崩渍了。”
“但是，末了，他还是镇定下来了。”
“先生，看起来是这样。但他还缠着她。我很怕他的眼神。我己经警告过太太了，要她小心，但她大笑。她喜欢享受自己魅力的力量，先生如果您知道我的意思的话。”
“是的。”波洛深思地说，“我想，我明白你的意思。”
“我们最近不常见到他，先生。我觉得是件好事，我希望，；他已经忘了这事儿了。”
“大概吧。”
波洛的语调可能有令她惊奇的地方。她担心地问∶
“先生，您不是以为她有危险吧？”
“是的。”波洛严肃地说，“我认为她有很大危险。但她是自找的。”
他的手浸无目的地在壁炉架上搜索着，突然碰倒了一ˇE个攻瑰花瓶，花瓶便掉了下来。水洒到埃利斯的脸上和头上。我从未看到波洛如此笨手笨脚的。我想，大概是他大脑中太忙乱了吧。他很不安——赶紧拿来毛巾——很亲切地帮助女仆揩干她脸上和颈上的水，并连声道歉。
最后，给了她一些钱后，他送她到门旁，感谢她的到来。
“天还早呢，”他看了一眼钟说。“你会在女主人回来前到家的。”
“噢！没关系的，先生。她出去吃晚饭了。我想，不管怎样，如果不特别关照，她从不让我熬夜等她的。”
突然波洛出乎意料地说了句话。
“女士，对不起，可你走路有点跛。”
“没关系的，先生，我的脚有一点疼。”
“是鸡眼吧？”波洛带着一种同病相怜的感情低声说道。
很明显，是鸡眼。波洛又根据他的经验，详细地给她讲一种疗法，据他的经验是很见效的。
最后，埃利斯走了。
我十分好奇。
“怎么回事，波洛？”我说，“怎么回事？”
波洛对我的心急只是笑笑。
“今天晚上到此为止，我的朋友。明天早晨，我们打电话给贾普，让他来——趟。我们还要叫上布赖恩•马丁。我想他会告诉我们一些有趣的事。另外我还想补偿一下我欠他的债。”
“真的？”
我瞟了一眼波洛。他正奇怪地自已笑呢。
“不管怎么说”我说，你不能怀疑是他杀了埃奇韦尔男爵吧。特别是听了今晚她讲的。那可是为简报仇了。将自己情人的丈夫杀死，让她去嫁另一个男人好像有点离谱，何男人都不会这样大公无私的。”
“多么精辟的论断。”
“得了，讽刺了，我懊恼地说，你一直在弄什么？”
“我的朋友，在看埃利斯的眼镜。她把她的眼镜掉下来了。”
“胡说。她出去时，鼻梁上还架着眼镜呢。”
他轻轻地摇着头。
“错了！完全错了！她戴的那副，我的朋友，是我在卡洛塔•亚当斯那里找到的那副夹鼻眼镜。”
我大吃一惊。
Chapter 29 Poirot Speaks波洛分析案件
Chapter 29 Poirot Speaks
It fell to me to ring up Inspector Japp the following morning.
His voice sounded rather depressed. ‘Oh! it’s you, Captain Hastings. Well, what’s in the wind now?’
I gave him Poirot’s message.
‘Come round at eleven? Well, I dare say I could. He’s not got anything to help us over young Ross’s death, has he? I don’t mind confessing that we could do with something. There’s not a clue of any kind. Most mysterious business.’
‘I think he’s got something for you,’ I said noncommittally. ‘He seems very pleased with himself at all events.’
‘That’s more than I am, I can tell you. All right, Captain Hastings. I’ll be there.’
My next task was to ring up Bryan Martin. To him I said what I had been told to say: That Poirot had discovered something rather interesting which he thought Mr Martin would like to hear. When asked what it was, I said that I had no idea. Poirot had not confided in me. There was a pause.
‘All right,’ said Bryan at last. ‘I’ll come.’
He rang off.
Presently, somewhat to my surprise, Poirot rang up Jenny Driver and asked her, also, to be present.
He was quiet and rather grave. I asked him no questions.
Bryan Martin was the first to arrive. He looked in good health and spirits, but - or it might have been my fancy - a shade uneasy. Jenny Driver arrived almost immediately afterwards. She seemed surprised to see Bryan and he seemed to share her surprise.
Poirot brought forward two chairs and urged them to sit down. He glanced at his watch.
‘Inspector Japp will be here in one moment, I expect.’
‘Inspector Japp?’ Bryan seemed startled. ‘Yes - I have asked him to come here - informally - as a friend.’
‘I see.’
He relapsed into silence. Jenny gave a quick glance at him then glanced away. She seemed rather preoccupied about something this morning.
A moment later Japp entered the room.
He was, I think, a trifle surprised to find Bryan Martin and Jenny Driver there, but he made no sign. He greeted Poirot with his usual jocularity.
‘Well, M. Poirot, what’s it all about? You’ve got some wonderful theory or other, I suppose.’
Poirot beamed at him.
‘No, no - nothing wonderful. Just a little story quite simple - so simple that I am ashamed not to have seen it at once. I want, if you permit, to take you with me through the case from the beginning.’
Japp sighed and looked at his watch.
‘If you won’t be more than an hour -’ he said.
‘Reassure yourself,’ said Poirot. ‘It will not take as long as that. See here, you want to know, do you not, who it was killed Lord Edgware, who it was killed Miss Adams, who it was killed Donald Ross?’
‘I’d like to know the last,’ said Japp cautiously.
‘Listen to me and you shall know everything. See, I am going to be humble.’ (Not likely! I thought unbelievingly.) ‘I am going to show you every step of the way - I am going to reveal how I was hoodwinked, how I displayed the gross imbecility, how it needed the conversation of my friend Hastings and a chance remark by a total stranger to put me on the right track.’
He paused and then, clearing his throat, he began to speak in what I called his ‘lecture’ voice.
‘I will begin at the supper party at the Savoy. Lady Edgware accosted me and asked for a private interview. She wanted to get rid of her husband. At the close of our interview she said - somewhat unwisely, I thought - that she might have to go round in a taxi and kill him herself. Those words were heard by Mr Bryan Martin, who came in at that moment.’
He wheeled round.
‘Eh? That is so, is it not?’
‘We all heard,’ said the actor. ‘The Widburns, Marsh, Carlotta - all of us.’
‘Oh! I agree. I agree perfectly. Eh bien, I did not have a chance to forget those words of Lady Edgware’s. Mr Bryan Martin called on the following morning for the express purpose of driving those words home.’
‘Not at all,’ cried Bryan Martin angrily. ‘I came -’
Poirot held up a hand.
‘You came, ostensibly, to tell me a cock-and-bull story about being shadowed. A tale that a child might have seen through. You probably took it from an out-of-date film. A girl whose consent you had to obtain - a man whom you recognized by a gold tooth. Mon ami, no young man would have a gold tooth - it is not done in these days - and especially in America. The gold tooth it is a hopelessly old-fashioned piece of dentistry. Oh! it was all of a piece - absurd! Having told your cock-and-bull story you get down to the real purpose of your visit - to poison my mind against Lady Edgware. To put it clearly, you prepare the ground for the moment when she murders her husband.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ muttered Bryan Martin. His face was deathly pale.
‘You ridicule the idea that he will agree to a divorce! You think I am going to see him the following day, but actually the appointment is changed. I go to see him that morning and he does agree to a divorce. Any motive for a crime on Lady Edgware’s part is gone. Moreover, he tells me that he has already written to Lady Edgware to that effect.
‘But Lady Edgware declares that she never got that letter. Either she lies, her husband lies, or somebody has suppressed it - who?
‘Now I ask myself why does M. Bryan Martin give himself the trouble to come and tell me all these lies? What inner power drives him on. And I form the idea, Monsieur, that you have been frantically in love with that lady. Lord Edgware says that his wife told him she wanted to marry an actor. Well, supposing that is so, but that the lady changes her mind. By the time Lord Edgware’s letter agreeing to the divorce arrives, it is someone else she wants to marry - not you! There would be a reason, then, for you suppressing that letter.’
‘I never -’
‘Presently you shall say all you want to say. Now you will attend to me.
‘What, then, would be your frame of mind - you, a spoilt idol who has never known a rebuff ? As I see it, a kind of baffled fury, a desire to do Lady Edgware as much harm as possible. And what greater harm could you do her than to have her accused - perhaps hanged - for murder.’
‘Good lord!’ said Japp.
Poirot turned to him.
‘But yes, that was the little idea that began to shape itself in my mind. Several things came to support it. Carlotta Adams had two principal men friends - Captain Marsh and Bryan Martin. It was possible, then, that Bryan Martin, a rich man, was the one who suggested the hoax and offered her ten thousand dollars to carry it through. It has seemed to me unlikely all along that Miss Adams could ever have believed Ronald Marsh would have ten thousand dollars to give her. She knew him to be extremely hard up. Bryan Martin was a far more likely solution.’
‘I didn’t - I tell you -’ came hoarsely from the film actor’s lips.
‘When the substance of Miss Adams’ letter to her sister was wired from Washington - oh! la, la! I was very upset. It seemed that my reasoning was wholly wrong. But later I made a discovery. The actual letter itself was sent to me and instead of being continuous, a sheet of the letter was missing. So, “he” might refer to someone who was not Captain Marsh.
‘There was one more piece of evidence. Captain Marsh, when he was arrested, distinctly stated that he thought he saw Bryan Martin enter the house. Coming from an accused man that carried no weight. Also M. Martin had an alibi. That naturally! It was to be expected. If M. Martin did the murder, to have an alibi was absolutely necessary.
‘That alibi was vouched for by one person only - Miss Driver.’
‘What about it?’ said the girl sharply.
‘Nothing, Mademoiselle,’ said Poirot, smiling. ‘Except that that same day I noticed you lunching with M. Martin and that you presently took the trouble to come over and try to make me believe that your friend Miss Adams was specially interested in Ronald Marsh - not, as I was sure was the case - in Bryan Martin.’
‘Not a bit of it,’ said the film star stoutly.
‘You may have been unaware of it, Monsieur,’ said Poirot quietly, ‘but I think it was true. It explains, as nothing else could, her feeling of dislike towards Lady Edgware. That dislike was on your behalf. You had told her all about your rebuff, had you not?’
‘Well - yes - I felt I must talk to someone and she -’
‘Was sympathetic. Yes, she was sympathetic, I noticed it myself. Eh bien, what happens next? Ronald Marsh, he is arrested. Immediately your spirits improve. Any anxiety you may have had is over. Although your plan has miscarried owing to Lady Edgware’s change of mind about going to a party at the last minute, yet somebody else has become the scapegoat and relieved you of all anxiety on your own account. And then - at a luncheon party - you hear Donald Ross, that pleasant, but rather stupid young man, say something to Hastings that seems to show that you are not so safe after all.’
‘It isn’t true,’ the actor bawled. The perspiration was running down his face. His eyes looked wild with horror. ‘I tell you I heard nothing - nothing - I did nothing.’
Then, I think, came the greatest shock of the morning.
‘That is quite true,’ said Poirot quietly. ‘And I hope you have now been sufficiently punished for coming to me - me, Hercule Poirot, with a cock-and-bull story.’
We all gasped. Poirot continued dreamily.
‘You see - I am showing you all my mistakes. There were five questions I had asked myself. Hastings knows them. The answer to three of them fitted in very well. Who had suppressed that letter? Clearly Bryan Martin answered that question very well. Another question was what had induced Lord Edgware suddenly to change his mind and agree to a divorce? Well, I had an idea as to that. Either he wanted to marry again - but I could find no evidence pointing to that - or else some kind of blackmail was involved. Lord Edgware was a man of peculiar tastes. It was possible that facts about him had come to light which, while not entitling his wife to an English divorce, might yet be used by her as a lever coupled with the threat of publicity. I think that is what happened. Lord Edgware did not want an open scandal attached to his name. He gave in, though his fury at having to do so was expressed in the murderous look on his face when he thought himself unobserved. It also explains the suspicious quickness with which he said, “Not because of anything in the letter,” before I had even suggested that that might be the case.
‘Two questions remained. The question of an odd pair of pince-nez in Miss Adams’ bag which did not belong to her. And the question of why Lady Edgware was rung up on the telephone whilst she was at dinner at Chiswick. In no way could I fit in M. Bryan Martin with either of those questions.
‘So I was forced to the conclusion that either I was wrong about Mr Martin, or wrong about the questions. In despair I once again read that letter of Miss Adams’ through very carefully. And I found something! Yes, I found something!
‘See for yourselves. Here it is. You see the sheet is torn? Unevenly, as often happens. Supposing now that before the “h” at the top there was an “s” . . .
‘Ah! you have it! You see. Not he - but she! It was a woman who suggested this hoax to Carlotta Adams.
‘Well, I made a list of all the women who had been even remotely connected with the case. Besides Jane Wilkinson, there were four - Geraldine Marsh, Miss Carroll, Miss Driver and the Duchess of Merton.
‘Of those four, the one that interested me most was Miss Carroll. She wore glasses, she was in the house that night, she had already been inaccurate in her evidence owing to her desire to incriminate Lady Edgware, and she was also a woman of great efficiency and nerve who could have carried out such a crime. The motive was more obscure - but after all, she had worked with Lord Edgware some years and some motive might exist of which we were totally unaware.
‘I also felt that I could not quite dismiss Geraldine Marsh from the case. She hated her father - she had told me so. She was a neurotic, highly-strung type. Suppose when she went into the house that night she had deliberately stabbed her father and then coolly proceeded upstairs to fetch the pearls. Imagine her agony when she found that her cousin whom she loved devotedly had not remained outside in the taxi but had entered the house.
‘Her agitated manner could be well explained on these lines. It could equally well be explained by her own innocence, but by her fear that her cousin really had done the crime. There was another small point. The gold box found in Miss Adams’ bag had the initial D in it. I had heard Geraldine addressed by her cousin as “Dina”. Also, she was in a pensionnat in Paris last November and might possibly have met Carlotta Adams in Paris.
‘You may think it fantastic to add the Duchess of Merton to the list. But she had called upon me and I recognized in her a fanatical type. The love of her whole life was centred on her son, and she might have worked herself up to contrive a plot to destroy the woman who was about to ruin her son’s life.
‘Then there was Miss Jenny Driver -’
He paused, looking at Jenny. She looked back at him, an impudent head on one side.
‘And what have you got on me?’ she asked.
‘Nothing, Mademoiselle, except that you were a friend of Bryan Martin’s - and that your surname begins with D.’
‘That’s not very much.’
‘There’s one thing more. You have the brains and the nerve to commit such a crime. I doubt if anyone else had.’
The girl lit a cigarette.
‘Continue,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Was M. Martin’s alibi genuine or was it not? That was what I had to decide. If it was, who was it Ronald Marsh had seen go into the house? And suddenly I remembered something. The good-looking butler at Regent Gate bore a very marked resemblance to M. Martin. It was he whom Captain Marsh had seen. And I formed a theory as to that. It is my idea that he discovered his master killed. Beside his master was an envelope containing French banknotes to the value of a hundred pounds. He took these notes, slipped out of the house, left them in safe keeping with some rascally friend and returned, letting himself in with Lord Edgware’s key. He let the crime be discovered by the housemaid on the following morning. He felt in no danger himself, as he was quite convinced that Lady Edgware had done the murder, and the notes were out of the house and already changed before their loss was noticed. However, when Lady Edgware had an alibi and Scotland Yard began investigating his antecedents, he got the wind up and decamped.’
Japp nodded approvingly.
‘I still have the question of the pince-nez to settle. If Miss Carroll was the owner then the case seemed settled. She could have suppressed the letter, and in arranging details with Carlotta Adams, or in meeting her on the evening of the murder, the pince-nez might have inadvertently found their way into Carlotta Adams’ bag.
‘But the pince-nez were apparently nothing to do with Miss Carroll. I was walking home with Hastings here, somewhat depressed, trying to arrange things in my mind with order and method. And then the miracle happened!
‘First Hastings spoke of things in a certain order. He mentioned Donald Ross having been one of thirteen at table at Sir Montagu Corner’s and having been the first to get up. I was following out a train of thought of my own and did not pay much attention. It just flashed through my mind that, strictly speaking, that was not true. He may have got up first at the end of the dinner, but actually Lady Edgware had been the first to get up since she was called to the telephone. Thinking of her, a certain riddle occurred to me - a riddle that I fancied accorded well with her somewhat childish mentality. I told it to Hastings. He was, like Queen Victoria, not amused. I next fell to wondering who I could ask for details about M. Martin’s feeling for Jane Wilkinson. She herself would not tell me, I knew. And then a passer-by, as we were all crossing the road, uttered a simple sentence.
‘He said to his girl companion that somebody or other “should have asked Ellis”. And immediately the whole thing came to me in a flash!’
He looked round.
‘Yes, yes, the pince-nez, the telephone call, the short woman who called for the gold box in Paris. Ellis, of course, Jane Wilkinson’s maid. I followed every step of it - the candles - the dim light - Mrs Van Dusen - everything. I knew!’


第二十九章 波洛分析案件
第二天一早，由我来给贾普打电话。
他的声音听起来相当沮丧。
“唤！是你，黑斯廷斯上尉。那么，发生什么事了吗？”
我向他转达了波洛的口信。
“十一点钟的时候去？好吧，大概可以。关于罗斯的命莱，他有什么地方可以帮助我们吗？不瞒你说，我们正需要消息。现在什么线索也没有。真是件神秘的案子。”
“我想他有事情要对你讲，”我含糊地说，“他似乎对一切都很得意。”
“我可不行，我跟你说，黑斯廷斯。好吧，黑斯廷斯，我会到的。”
我的第二项任务是给布赖恩•马丁打电话。我对他讲了波洛交代我说的话。我说波洛已经发现了一些他认为布赖恩•马丁会愿意听的有趣事情。他问是什么，我说自己不知道，波洛没告诉我。那边停顿了片刻。
“好吧，”布赖恩最后说，“我会来的。”
他将电话挂了。
不久，令我惊讶的是。波洛又给詹尼。德赖弗打电话，也请她来一趟。
他静静地站在那儿，很严肃。我也就没问他什么问题。
布赖恩•马丁是最先到的。他看起来气色不错，兴致很高，但是——也许是我瞎想的——他有一点儿不安。詹尼。德赖弗差不多是接着立刻到的。她看到布赖恩•马丁似乎很惊奇。布赖恩也有同感。
波洛搬了两把椅子，请他们坐下。他看看自己的表。
“贾普警督一会就到，我想。”
“贾普警督？”布赖恩似乎很惊讶。
“是的——我让他来的——并非很正式，是以朋友身份。”
“我明白了。”
他不再问了。詹尼迅速瞥了他一眼，又看别处了。今天早晨。她似乎有些特别的心事。
不一会，贾普走进门来。
我觉得，他看见布赖恩•马丁和詹尼。德赖弗在座很惊讶。但他并未表现出来。他按通常的样子，嘻嘻哈哈地与波洛打招呼。
“啊，波洛，怎么回事？我想你又有了什么了不起的假想或别的什么了吧？”
波洛对他笑了。
“没有。没有。没什么了不起的东西。只是一段筒单的叙述——如此筒单，我真不好意思。竟然一时没注意。假如阁下允许的话，我愿意从头一步一步地讲给你听。”
贾普叹了口气。看看他的表。
“如果不超过一个小时——”他说。
“放心，”波洛说。“不会用那么长时问的。你看，你不是想知道是谁杀了埃奇韦尔男爵吗？你不是想知道是谁杀了亚当斯小姐？谁杀了庸纳德。罗斯吗？”
“我想知道最后一个疑问。”贾普小心地说。
“听我说。你就会明白一切了。看，我将很谦虚（我却不以为然地想。不太可能吧）。我将把案子发生的每一步骤都指出来——我将向你们讲讲我是如何被蒙蔽了。因此我又是多么愚昧。以及我的好友黑斯廷斯的话。和偶然听到的完全陌生路人的话是怎样帮我找到线索的。”
他停了停。然后清滑嗓子开始用那种被我称作“演讲”的语调讲开了。
“我要从萨伏依饭店的晚餐讲起。埃奇韦尔夫人遇见我。要我单独和她谈谈。她想摆脱她的丈夫。在谈话结束的时候。她说，她也许会雇辆出租车，亲自去杀掉他。我认为她这话是不明智的。当她说这话的时候。碰巧布赖恩•马丁先生进来，听到了这话。”
他转回身去。
“呃？是不是？”
“我们都听到了，”演员回答道，“威德伯思夫妇。马什，卡洛塔——我们所有人。”
“噢，我同意。我完全同意。那么，我始终不曾忘记埃奇韦尔夫人所讲的那句话。第二天早上，布赖恩•马丁先生来访，特别想要把她说的话的意思表达清楚。”
“根本不是那样，”布赖恩•马丁生气地叫道。“我来是——”
波洛扬起一只手阻止他说下去。
“从表面上看，你来是要告诉我，你曾被人跟踪。其实那是孩子都能看穿的把戏。你很可能是从过时的老片子上找来的。你说你必须征得一位女子的同意——还有一个镶金牙的男子。我的朋友，没有什么年轻人会镶金牙——现在不时兴了——特别是在美国。金牙是旧式牙科的手术。噢！这套——真是可笑！说过你被跟踪的故事后，你才开始说你真正想说的话——想让我对埃奇韦尔夫人有一个坏印象。再明白点儿说，你在预言她会杀她的丈夫。”
“我不知道你在讲什么。”布赖恩•马丁喃喃地说道，脸色变得惨白。
“你竭力嘲笑埃奇韦尔男爵会同意离婚的想法。你以为我准备在第二天去见他，事实上，我们的见面改期了。我是那天上午去见他的，而且他同意离婚了。那么，埃奇韦尔夫人这一方面就不存在杀人动机了。另外，他告诉我，他已经写信给埃奇韦尔夫人，告诉她那决定了。
“但是埃奇韦尔夫人说她根本没收到那封信。那么不是她在说谎，就是有人把那封信扣留了——那么会是谁呢？
“于是我想，马丁先生为什么不嫌麻烦，特地来对我撒谎呢？有什么内在力量驱使他？于是，我就有了这样的一个想法，先生，你曾经狂热地爱恋埃奇韦尔大人。埃奇韦尔男爵说，他的太太是想嫁给一个演员。那么，假定这是真的，可男爵夫人改变主意了。埃奇韦尔男爵关于同意离婚的信到达时，她想嫁的人——不是你。那么，你有充分的理由扣留那封信。”
“我从未——”
“一会你可以说你想说的。现在请听我说。
“那么，你打算做什么呢？你这个被观众宠坏了的偶像，从未碰过钉子的人，会有什么企图呢？就我感觉，你会非常愤慨，想尽量去伤害男爵夫人。那么世上还有什么办法比让她因谋杀罪被指控——上绞刑架更狠的呢？”
“天哪！”贾普说。
波洛转向他。
“但是，是真的。这就是我脑中逐渐形成的想法。有好几件事可以支持我这个想法。卡洛塔有两位主要的男友——马什上尉和布赖恩•马丁。布赖恩•马丁是个有钱的人。那么他就有可能建议那个骗人的把戏。答应她，办成此事，就给她一万美元。我一直以为，卡洛塔•亚当斯不会相信罗纳德。马什会给她一万美元，因为她知道他相当穷。布赖恩•马丁是更可能的解释了。”
“我没有——我告诉你——”那位电影演员吵吵地说。
“当亚当斯发给她妹妹的信从华盛顿被电传回来的时侯——噢！哎呀！我很不开心。好像我的推论完全错误了。但是后来。我有一个发现。真正的那封信并没有到我这，那是一封不连贯的。有一页没了的信。所以，‘他’有可能指另一位不是马什上尉的人。
“还有另外一个证据。当马什上尉被捕时，他清楚地说，他看到布赖恩•马丁走进房子。因为他是被控方，所以他的证词没有效力。而且马丁上尉也有不在现场的证据。那是自然的，我们可以想想，假如马丁先生是凶手，他当然要找必要的不在现场的证据。
“他的不在现场的证据，只有一个人可以为他保证——德赖弗小姐。”
“那怎么了？”女孩言辞锋利地问。
“没什么，小姐。”波洛笑着说，“只是我注意到，就在同一天，你和马丁先生共进午餐时，你特地走到我这边来”要我相信你的朋友亚当斯小姐对罗纳德。马什特别感兴趣——不是，本以为是的，是对布赖恩•马丁感兴趣。”
“一点也不对。”那个电影明星断然地说。
“先生，你也许未曾注意。”波洛镇静地说，“但我认为这是真的。这解释了她对埃奇韦尔的不喜欢。那种不喜欢是由于你，因为你告诉过她，你被简•威尔金森拒绝了，不是吗？”
“晤，是的，我觉得要找人谈谈而她——”
“她很有同情心。是的，她总是很同情别人的。这一点，我注意到了。那么，又发生了什么呢？罗纳德。马什被捕了。你的情绪马上好了起来。你就是有过优虑，现在也过去了。尽管由于埃奇韦尔夫人临时改变主意，去参加了晚会，改变了你的计划，但毕竟有人成了替罪羊，使你脱离了干系。后来，在午宴席上，你听到了唐纳德。罗斯——那个讨人喜欢、却很愚蠢的年轻人对黑斯廷斯讲的几句话。让你又不得安全了。”
“这不是真的！”演员吼道，他满脸冒汗。两眼因恐惧露出狂乱的目光，“我告诉你，我什么都没听到——什么都没有——我什么也没做。”
然后，我认为，那天上午最令人惊讶的事情发生了。
“这是真的。”波洛镇静地说，“你竟然到我，赫尔克里•波洛面前讲那种无稽之谈，我想你受的教训该够了吧。”
我们都吓了一大跳，波洛接着又梦幻般地讲自己的话。
“你们看，我给你们讲我犯的错误。我曾经问自己五个问题。黑斯廷斯知道是什么问题。其中有三个问题的答案与案情吻合。谁把那封信扣留了？很显然，布赖恩•马丁已经是个很好的解答了。另一个问题是为什么埃奇韦尔男爵突然改变主意，同意离婚了？关于这个问题，我有一个假定。不是他想再娶，就是其中有敲诈的情况。关于再娶，我找不出证据。关于有人敲诈，我就会想到这个。埃奇韦尔男爵是一个脾气很怪的人。也许有些不可告人的事已经暴露出来了。虽然按照英国的法律。他的妻子不能有英国式的离婚，但可能被她利用。威胁要公开。我想事实大概如此。埃奇韦尔男爵不想要公开的丑事玷污他的名声，所以他不得不让步，那么他脸上便带着一种恨恨的表情——他自己以为未被注意呢。这也说明为什么不等我提到也许与信有关。他就急忙说，。并非因为信中的什么话而改变主意。，
“还有两个问题。一个是亚当斯小姐手提袋里的那副奇怪的夹鼻眼镜，那不是她的。为什么有人在埃奇韦尔夫人用餐的时候打电话找她？我找不出布赖恩•马丁先生与此有俩联系？
“所以我不得不这样下结论，要么我对马丁先生的估计错了。要么是问题错了。绝望中，我又读了亚当斯小姐的那封信，读得非常仔细。结果，我找到了一些东西！是的，我找到了些东西。
“你们自己看吧，倍就在这里。你们看到有一页被扯去的痕迹吗？扯得不齐，这是正常现象。假定那个人前还有一个‘s’。”
“啊！这就明白了，你们明白了吧。不是‘他’，而是‘她’！是一位女士向卡洛塔•亚当斯提出那个骗局的。
“那么，我就把与这个案子有关的女士开了一个名单。除了简•威尔金森以外，还有四个人——杰拉尔丁。马什，卡罗尔小姐。德赖弗小姐和默顿公爵夫人。
“在这四个人中，最令我注意的是卡罗尔小姐。她戴眼镜，那天晚上，她在房子里面。由于她想加罪于埃奇韦尔夫人，所以曾提出不正确的证词。同时她也是一位非常能干，非常有胆量的女人，是可能犯这种罪的。谈到动机，却不太清楚。不过，她毕竟在埃奇韦尔男爵手下干过几年，也许可能有某种动机，只是我们完全不知道就是了。
“同时，我觉得不能完全排除杰拉尔丁。马什小姐。她恨她的父亲——这是她亲口对我说的。她是一种神经质、极端兴奋的类型。假设那天晚上她定进那房子，杀了她的父亲后，又冷静地走上褛去取首饰。她是很爱她的堂兄的。可是，
当她发现他并不是在外面等着，而是进来了。可以想象一下，她当时的心情有多么痛苦。
“她那激动的态度该如何解释呢？可以解释为她是无罪的。同时，她害怕是她堂兄杀的人。还有一小点。亚当斯小姐手袋里的金匣子，上面有首写字母Ｄ。Ｄ我听过她被她的堂兄称做‘戴娜’。另外，他去年十一月在巴黎的寄宿学校，很可能在巴黎遇见过卡洛塔•亚当斯。
“你们也许觉得我将默顿公爵夫人加人这个名单未免太荒诞了。但是，她曾找过我，我发现她是一位偏执狂型的人。她将全部的感情都寄托在她儿子身上。她以为简会毁了她儿子的一生，所以她设计圈套，希望置她于死地。
“此外。还有詹尼。德赖弗小姐——”
他停了停，望了望詹尼。她的脑袋歪到一边，不客气地回望着他。
“你要说我什么？”她问道。
“没什么。小姐。除了你是布赖恩•马丁的一个朋友——以及你的姓，第一个宇母是DＤ”
“这没什么呀。”
“还有一件事情。你有头脑和胆量来犯这个罪。我怀疑还有谁能这样。”
女孩点燃了一支香烟。
“说下去。”她高兴地说。
“马丁先生不在现场的证据是否真实，需要我来判断。如果是真实的。那罗纳德。马什看到的那个进房子的人是谁？突然，我记起了一点事情。摄政门的那个英俊管家与马丁先生相貌酷似。那么马什上尉看到的可能是他。所以我就有了一个假想。我以为，大概是他发现了主人被杀。主人身边有个信封，里边是法国钞票，值一百英镑。于是他就把钞票拿去，溜掉了。他把钞票放在了一个流氓朋友那里，然后回来，用埃奇韦尔男爵的钥匙开了大门。回到了男爵公馆，让女佣第二天发现凶杀菜。他觉得自己没有危险，因为他相信一定是埃奇韦尔夫人杀的人，而且那些法国钞票己经妥善地放在外面了，等到发现钞票遗失的时候，那钱早已兑换成英镑了。虽然如此，但埃奇韦尔夫人有不在现场的证据。而且伦敦警察厅开始调查他的身世，他得到了风声，便逃走了。”
贾普赞成地点着头。
“我还有那个夹鼻眼镜的问题要解决。假如卡罗尔小姐是眼镜的主人，那么案子就可以解决了。她有可能把那封信扣留了。在她与卡洛塔•亚当斯讨论细节的时候，或者她在凶杀棠发生的那天晚上，与她见面的时候，或许偶然将那副夹鼻眼镜丢到了卡洛塔•亚当斯的手袋里。
“但那副夹鼻眼镜显然与卡罗尔小姐无关。有一天我同这里的黑斯廷斯一同走回家去。当时他情绪有点低落，竭力想有条有理地将心中的几个问题整理一下，于是奇迹发生了。
“首先，黑斯廷斯谈到几件事。好像有一定的顺序。他谈到唐纳德。罗斯是赴蒙塔古。科纳爵士宴会十三位就餐者中第一个离席的。我当时在想自己一连串的问题，正在思考。所以并未注意。我只是在刹那间想到，严格地说，那不是事实。在终席的时候，他可能是最先起身离席的，但事实上，还有埃奇韦尔夫人。她因为管家请她去接电话，是先起身的。想起她来，我忽然想起一个谜来——这个谜与她孩子气的心理很符合。我将谜讲给黑斯廷斯，但他像维多利亚女王一样，毫不感兴趣。以后我就不知道该问谁才能得知马丁先生对简•威尔金森的感情。她自己是不会告诉我的，裁知道这一点。这时”们正过马路的时候，尔听到一个路人说了一个极简单的句子。
“他对他的女友说某人‘该去问问埃利斯’。于是我突然恍然大悟。”
他回头望了望。
“是的，的，个夹鼻眼镜，个电话。那个去取金匣子的矮女人，然是埃利斯，。威尔金森的女仆。于是我便一步一步地推断——那些蜡烛——幽暗的灯光一凡•范。杜森太太——一切符合。我完全明白了。”
Chapter 30 The Story案件经过
Chapter 30 The Story
He looked round at us.
‘Come, my friends,’ he said gently. ‘Let me tell you the real story of what happened that night.
‘Carlotta Adams leaves her flat at seven o’clock. From there she takes a taxi and goes to the Piccadilly Palace.’
‘What?’ I exclaimed.
‘To the Piccadilly Palace. Earlier in the day she has taken a room there as Mrs Van Dusen. She wears a pair of strong glasses which, as we all know, alters the appearance very much. As I say, she books a room, saying that she is going by the night boat train to Liverpool and that her luggage has gone on. At eight-thirty Lady Edgware arrives and asks for her. She is shown up to her room. There they change clothes. Dressed in a fair wig, a white taffeta dress and ermine wrap, Carlotta Adams and not Jane Wilkinson leaves the hotel and drives to Chiswick. Yes, yes, it is perfectly possible. I have been to the house in the evening. The dinner table is lit only with candles, the lamps are dim, no one there knows Jane Wilkinson very well. There is the golden hair, the well-known husky voice and manner. Oh! it was quite easy. And if it had not been successful - if someone had spotted the fake - well, that was all arranged for, too. Lady Edgware, wearing a dark wig, Carlotta’s clothes and the pince-nez, pays her bill, has her suitcase put on a taxi and drives to Euston. She removes the dark wig in the lavatory, she puts her suitcase in the cloak-room. Before going to Regent Gate she rings up Chiswick and asks to speak to Lady Edgware. This has been arranged between them. If all has gone well and Carlotta has not been spotted, she is to answer simply - “That’s right.” I need hardly say Miss Adams was ignorant of the real reason for the telephone call. Having heard the words, Lady Edgware goes ahead. She goes to Regent Gate, asks for Lord Edgware, proclaims her individuality, and goes into the library. And commits the first murder. Of course she did not know that Miss Carroll was watching her from above. As far as she is aware it will be the butler’s word (and he has never seen her, remember - and also she wears a hat which shields her from his gaze) against the word of twelve well-known and distinguished people.
‘She leaves the house, returns to Euston, changes from fair to dark again and picks up her suitcase. She has now to put in time till Carlotta Adams returns from Chiswick. They have agreed as to the approximate time. She goes to the Corner House, occasionally glancing at her watch, for the time passes slowly. Then she prepares for the second murder. She puts the small gold box she has ordered from Paris in Carlotta Adams’ bag which, of course, she is carrying. Perhaps it is then she finds the letter. Perhaps it was earlier. Anyway, as soon as she sees the address, she scents danger. She opens it - her suspicions are justified.
‘Perhaps her first impulse is to destroy the letter altogether. But she soon sees a better way. By removing one page of the letter it reads like an accusation of Ronald Marsh - a man who had a powerful motive for the crime. Even if Ronald has an alibi, it will still read as an accusation of a man so long as she tears off the s of “she”. So that is what she does. Then replaces it in the envelope and the envelope back in the bag.
‘Then, the time having come, she walks in the direction of the Savoy Hotel. As soon as she sees the car pass, with (presumably) herself inside, she quickens her pace, enters at the same time and goes straight up the stairs. She is inconspicuously dressed in black. It is unlikely that anyone will notice her.
‘Upstairs she goes to her room. Carlotta Adams has just reached it. The maid has been told to go to bed - a perfectly usual proceeding. They again change clothes and then, I fancy, Lady Edgware suggests a little drink - to celebrate. In that drink is the veronal. She congratulates her victim, says she will send her the cheque tomorrow. Carlotta Adams goes home. She is very sleepy - tries to ring up a friend - possibly M. Martin or Captain Marsh, for both have Victoria numbers - but gives it up. She is too tried. The veronal is beginning to work. She goes to bed - and she never wakes again. The second crime has been carried through successfully.
‘Now for the third crime. It is at a luncheon party. Sir Montagu Corner makes a reference to a conversation he had with Lady Edgware on the night of the murder. That is easy. But Nemesis comes upon her later. There is a mention of the “judgement of Paris” and she takes Paris to be the only Paris she knows - the Paris of fashion and frills!
‘But opposite her is sitting a young man who was at the dinner at Chiswick - a young man who heard the Lady Edgware of that night discussing Homer and Greek civilization generally. Carlotta Adams was a cultured well-read girl. He cannot understand. He stares. And suddenly it comes to him. This is not the same woman. He is terribly upset. He is not sure of himself. He must have advice. He thinks of me. He speaks to Hastings.
‘But the lady overheard him. She is quick enough and shrewd enough to realize that in some way or other she has given herself away. She heard Hastings say that I will not be in till five. At twenty to five she goes to Ross’s maisonette. He opens the door, is very surprised to see her, but it does not occur to him to be afraid. A strong able-bodied young man is not afraid of a woman. He goes with her into the dining-room. She pours out some story to him. Perhaps she goes on her knees and flings her arms around his neck. And then, swift and sure, she strikes - as before. Perhaps he gives a choked cry - no more. He, too, is silenced.’
There was a silence. Then Japp spoke hoarsely.
‘You mean - she did it all the time?’
Poirot bowed his head.
‘But why, if he was willing to give her a divorce?’
‘Because the Duke of Merton is a pillar of the Anglo-Catholics. Because he would not dream of marrying a woman whose husband was alive. He is a young man of fanatical principles. As a widow, she was pretty certain to be able to marry him. Doubtless she had tentatively suggested divorce, but he had not risen to the bait.’
‘Then why send you to Lord Edgware?’
‘Ah! parbleu! ’ Poirot, from having been very correct and English, suddenly relapsed into his natural self. ‘To pull the cotton-wool over my eyes! To make me a witness to the fact that there was not motive for the murder! Yes, she dared to make me, Hercule Poirot, her cat’s-paw! Ma foi, she succeeded, too! Oh, that strange brain, childlike and cunning. She can act! How well she acted surprise at being told of the letter her husband had written her which she swore she had never received. Did she feel the slightest pang of remorse for any of her three crimes? I can swear she did not.’
‘I told you what she was like,’ cried Bryan Martin. ‘I told you. I knew she was going to kill him. I felt it. And I was afraid that somehow she’d get away with it. She’s clever - devilish clever in a kind of half-wit way. And I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to suffer. I wanted her to hang for it.’
His face was scarlet. His voice came thickly.
‘Now, now,’ said Jenny Driver.
She spoke exactly as I have heard nursemaids speak to a small child in the park.
‘And the gold box with the initial D, and Paris November inside?’ said Japp.
‘She ordered that by letter and sent Ellis, her maid, to fetch it. Naturally Ellis just called for a parcel which she paid for. She had no idea what was inside. Also, Lady Edgware borrowed a pair of Ellis’s pince-nez to help in the Van Dusen impersonation. She forgot about them and left them in Carlotta Adams’ handbag - her one mistake.
‘Oh! it came to me - it all came to me as I stood in the middle of the road. It was not polite what the bus driver said to me, but it was worth it. Ellis! Ellis’s pince-nez. Ellis calling for the box in Paris. Ellis and therefore Jane Wilkinson. Very possibly she borrowed something else from Ellis besides des pince-nez.’
‘What?’
‘A corn knife . . .’
I shivered.
There was a momentary silence.
Then Japp said with a strange reliance in the answer.
‘M. Poirot. Is this true?’
‘It is true, mon ami.’
Then Bryan Martin spoke, and his words were, I thought, very typical of him.
‘But look here,’ he said peevishly. ‘What about me? Why bring me here today? Why nearly frighten me to death?’
Poirot looked at him coldly.
‘To punish you, Monsieur, for being impertinent! How dare you try and make the games with Hercule Poirot?’
And then Jenny Driver laughed. She laughed and laughed.
‘Serve you right, Bryan,’ she said at last.
She turned to Poirot.
‘I’m glad as I can be that it wasn’t Ronnie Marsh,’ she said. ‘I’ve always liked him. And I’m glad, glad, glad that Carlotta’s death won’t go unpunished! As for Bryan here, well I’ll tell you something, M. Poirot. I’m going to marry him. And if he thinks he can get divorced and married every two or three years in the approved Hollywood fashion, well, he never made a bigger mistake in his life. He’s going to marry and stick to me.’
Poirot looked at her - looked at her determined chin - and at her flaming hair.
‘It is very possible, Mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘that that may be so. I said that you had sufficient nerve for anything. Even to marry a film “star”.’

第三十章 案件经过
他四下望了望我们。
“来，我的朋友们，”，温和地说。“让我来给各位讲一下那天晚上事情的经过。
“卡洛塔在七点钟离开她的住所。她从那儿坐出租车去皮卡迪利大饭店。”
“什么！”我惊叫道。
“去了皮卡迪利大饭店。她曾在当天早些时候在那里以凡。范。杜森夫人的名义定了一个房间。她带着一副高度数的眼镜，们知道，会令她外表大大改观。正如我所说，定了一个房间，她准备搭夜班船去利物涌，的行李已经顶先上船了。在八点三十分的时候，奇韦尔夫人来找她。她被领到卡洛塔的房间。在那里，们调换了衣服。然后就有一个戴金色假发、穿一身皱纹绸衣服、披着貂皮披肩的女士离开了饭店，车去齐西克。那个人不是简•威尔金森。而是卡洛塔•亚当斯。是的。是的，是完全可能的。载在傍晚去过那间房子，桌上只有蜡烛，线很暗，有筒。威尔金森的熟人。那么金黄色的头发，名的沙哑的音调以及举止。噢！这简直太容易了。如果不成功——如果有人识别出是假扮的——不要紧，都先有安排的。埃奇韦尔夫人戴着黑色假发，着卡洛塔的衣服，着夹鼻眼镜，了旅馆费用，后将提包放入出租车中去尤斯顿车站。她在卫生间中取下假发。再将她的提包放在衣帽间。在去摄政门前，打电话到齐西克。找埃奇韦尔夫人。这是她们协商好的。如果一切顺利。卡洛塔没有被认出来。她只需简单地回答——‘对！’我用不着说了，当斯小姐对打电话的真实原因并不知情的。听到回答以后，奇韦尔夫人行动了。她去摄政门，求见埃奇韦尔男爵，明了自己的身份，入书房，下了第一个人命案。当然她并不知道卡罗尔小姐正从上面望着她。就她所知，有管家一个人（他从未见过她，且她还戴着一顶帽子，他看不清她）作证，另外十二位有名声、有地位的人可以证明她不在现场。
“她离开那所房子，到尤斯顿，假发戴上，将提包取出来。不过，在时间还早，还需要消磨时间，待卡洛塔•亚当斯由齐西克回来。她们已经约定见面。她来到科纳餐馆。不时地看着表，为时间过得很慢。于是她又开始准备第二个人命案。她将从巴黎定做的金匣子放在卡洛塔•亚当斯的手袋里，当时正拿着那个手袋。大概就在那个时候，发现了那封信。或者是更早的时候。不管怎么说，看到那地址。她就嗅出有危险。她打开了信——她的猜测被证实了。
“也许她的第一个冲动是将信全部毁了。但她很快又找到了一个更好的办法。将信中的一页拿掉，纳德。马什就成了嫌疑犯——本来他就有很大的杀人动机。就是罗纳德有不在现场的证据，怀疑的对象也应是个男士，为她把‘她’字的‘s’撕去了。这就是她所做的。然后，又将信放回信封，信封放回手袋。
“然后，约定的时间要到了，就朝萨伏依饭店方向走。她一看见假扮自己的人开着她的车过去了，赶紧加快步子，时走人大门，直走上楼去。她穿着不显眼的黑衣服，以没人会注意她。
“她上楼走人自已的套房。卡洛塔•亚当斯也刚刚到。和平常一样，已经交待女仆先去睡。她们在那里换回各自的衣服。我猜想，奇韦尔夫人建议喝点酒——庆祝一下。而酒里放了佛罗那。她向卡洛塔祝贺，第二天给她发过去支票。卡洛塔•亚当斯就回了家。她很困——想给一个朋友打电话——可能是马丁先生或是马什先生，为他俩都是维多利亚区的电话号码——但最后放弃了这个念头。佛罗那开始发作了。她上床睡觉——就再也没醒过来。第二个凶杀案顺利完成了。
“现在轮到第三个凶杀案了。在午宴上，塔古。科纳爵士提到过在埃奇韦尔被杀的那晚的宴会上，曾与埃奇韦尔夫人谈过的话。那是很容易的。但复仇女神还是找上门来。当提出‘帕里斯的评判’时，奇韦尔夫人把帕里斯当成了她所惟一知道的巴黎——时髦刺激的地方。
“但是在她对面坐着一个也参加了齐西克晚宴的人——他听见过埃奇韦尔夫人在那晚与主人谈论希腊文明。卡洛塔•亚当斯是一位有教养，过许多书的女子。所以他不明白了，吃惊。突然他意识到，不是同一个女人。他非常吃惊。他自己并不确信，需要向人请教，是他想到了我。他对黑斯廷斯说了。
“但是埃奇韦尔夫人听到了。她很机敏，上意识到自己有什么地方露了马脚。她听黑斯廷斯说我到五点才能回来。在四点四十分的时候，去了罗斯的寓所。他打开门，惊讶地发现是她，他并没有害怕。他与她一起去了餐厅。她向他编故事，者她跪下，者让他拥抱她，在这时候，迅速、利落地如以往一样——杀了他。他也许哽淹地叫了一声，后就再也没发出声响。他也被——灭口了。”
一片寂静。然后贾普用沙哑的声音说话了。
“你是说——都是她干的？”
波洛点了点头。
“但是为什么？如果他己经答应和她离婚了。”
“因为默顿公爵是英国国教高教会派的头领人物。他绝对不会同一位丈夫仍然健在的女士结婚。他是一个相当讲究规矩的人。而做了寡妇，就有把握嫁他了。毫无疑问，曾试探地说要离婚，默顿公爵并未买账。”
“那为什么要让你去劝说埃奇韦尔男爵呢？”
“啊！必然了！”波洛一直是很准确的。很有英国味地表述着自己，在又原形毕露了，她想蒙骗我。她想让我证明她不可能有刺杀她丈夫的动机。是的。她竟敢利用我波洛！真的，也真成功了！唤，个奇怪的脑袋！那个幼稚而又狡猾的脑袋！她会演戏的！当我告诉她，的丈夫已经写信给她了。她发誓说从未接到。那种惊讶的表倩真逼真。她连杀了三个人，感到一丝后梅吗？我可以赌咒，不会的。”
“我告诉过你她是什么样子吗？”布赖恩•马丁叫道，我告诉过你了。我知道她要杀他。我早就感觉到了。我担心她会想办法摆脱一切的。她很聪明——有几分傻气的聪明。我早就想看她受苦。我早就想看她受苦了。我想看她被绞死。”
他的脸发红，音变得很浊重。
“好啦，啦。”詹尼。德赖弗说。
她说话的样子就像公园里保姆在对孩子讲话。
“还有带首写字母D的金匣子，而‘十一月巴黎’的字样怎么回事？”普问道。
“她用通信方式定做的，后派埃利斯。她的女仆，取它。很自然，利斯只是去取一包己付过账的东西，并不知道里面有什么。另外，奇韦尔夫人还借用埃利斯的夹鼻眼镜，便化装成凡。范。杜森太太时用。但她后来忘记拿回来了，放在卡洛塔•亚当斯的手袋里，这也是她的一个失误。
“啊！这一切都是我站在路中央时，脑中突然想到的。公共汽车司机骂我很不客气，但这值得。埃利斯！埃利斯的夹鼻眼镜。埃利斯去取巴黎的匣子。埃利斯和筒。威尔金森。除了那副夹鼻眼镜以外，她还可能从埃利斯处借用了别的东西。”
“什么？”
“一把小刀子。”
我打了一个寒战。
大家一时沉静下来。
然后，贾普很奇怪地期望着答案似的问道
“波洛先生，是真的吗？”
“是真的，我的朋友。”
这时，布赖恩•马丁又开始说话了。我以为他所说的话，全具有他的个性。
“但是。听我说，”他脾气乖张地说，“我是怎么回事？今天为什么把我叫到这来？差一点把我吓死了。”
波洛冷冷地望着他。
“要惩罚你，先生，因为你太无礼了。你怎么敢和赫尔克里•波洛开玩笑。”
这时，詹尼。德赖弗小姐大笑起来。她不停地笑啊，笑啊。
“布赖恩，你活该。”她最后说。
她转向波洛。
“我很高兴不是罗尼。马什干的。”她说，“我一直喜欢他。我很高兴。很高兴，卡洛塔不能白死。至于布赖恩呢，我要告诉您点事，波洛先生。我要嫁给他。如果他认为，他可以像好莱坞一般的电影演员们一样，可以随便离婚，每两三年再结一次婚，那他可就错了。他要娶了我，与我终生厮守在一起。”
波洛望着她一望着她那坚定的下巴。和她那火似的红发。
“小姐，这是很可能的。”他说，“会这样的。我曾说过，你有足够的胆量做任何事，甚至包括嫁给一个电影明星。”
Chapter 31 A Human Document一篇人性记录
Chapter 31 A Human Document
A day or two after that I was suddenly recalled to the Argentine. So it happened that I never saw Jane Wilkinson again and only read in the paper of her trial and condemnation. Unexpectedly, at least unexpectedly to me, she went completely to pieces when charged with the truth. So long as she was able to be proud of her cleverness and act her part she made no mistakes, but once her self-confidence failed her, owing to someone having found her out, she was as incapable as a child would be of keeping up a deception. Cross-examined, she went completely to pieces.
So, as I said before, that luncheon party was the last time I saw Jane Wilkinson. But when I think of her, I always see her the same way - standing in her room at the Savoy trying on expensive black clothes with a serious absorbed face. I am convinced that that was no pose. She was being completely natural. Her plan had succeeded and therefore she had no further qualms and doubts. Neither do I think that she ever suffered one pang of remorse for the three crimes she had committed.
I reproduce here a document which she had directed was to be sent to Poirot after her death. It is, I think, typical of that very lovely and completely conscienceless lady.
Dear M. Poirot, I have been thinking things over and I feel that I should like to write this for you. I know that you sometimes publish reports of your cases. I don’t really think that you’ve ever published a document by the person themselves. I feel, too, that I would like everyone to know just exactly how I did it all. I still think it was all very well planned. If it hadn’t been for you everything would have been quite all right. I’ve felt rather bitter about that, but I suppose you couldn’t help it. I’m sure, if I send you this, you’ll give it plenty of prominence. You will, won’t you? I should like to be remembered. And I do think I am really a unique person. Everybody here seems to think so.
It began in America when I got to know Merton. I saw at once that if only I were a widow he would marry me. Unfortunately, he has got a queer sort of prejudice against divorce. I tried to overcome it but it was no good, and I had to be careful, because he was a very kinky sort of person.
I soon realized that my husband simply had got to die, but I didn’t know how to set about it. You can imagine things like that ever so much better in the States. I thought and I thought - but I couldn’t see how to arrange it. And then, suddenly, I saw Carlotta Adams do her imitation of me and at once I began to see a way. With her help I could get an alibi. That same evening I saw you, and it suddenly struck me that it would be a good idea to send you to my husband to ask him for a divorce. At the same time I would go about talking of killing my husband, because I’ve always noticed that if you speak the truth in a rather silly way nobody believes you. I’ve often done it over contracts. And it’s also a good thing to seem stupider than you are. At my second meeting with Carlotta Adams I broached the idea. I said it was a bet, and she fell for it at once. She was to pretend to be me at some party and if she got away with it she was to have ten thousand dollars. She was very enthusiastic and several of the ideas were hers - about changing clothes and all that. You see, we couldn’t do it here because of Ellis and we couldn’t do it at her place because of her maid. She, of course, didn’t see why we couldn’t. It was a little awkward. I just said ‘No.’ She thought me a little stupid about it, but she gave in and we thought of the hotel plan. I took a pair of Ellis’s pince-nez.
Of course I realized quite soon that she would have to be got out of the way too. It was a pity, but after all, those imitations of hers really were very impertinent. If mine hadn’t happened to suit me I’d have been angry about it. I had some veronal myself, though I hardly ever take it, so that was quite easy. And then I had quite a brainwave. You see, it would be so much better if it could seem that she was in the habit of taking it. I ordered a box - the duplicate of one I’d been given and I had her initials put on it and an inscription inside. I thought if I put some odd initial and Paris, November, inside it, it would make it all much more difficult. I wrote for the box from the Ritz when I was in there lunching one day. And I sent Ellis over to fetch it. She didn’t know what it was, of course.
Everything went off quite well on the night. I took one of Ellis’s corn knives, while she was over in Paris, because it was nice and sharp. She never noticed because I put it back afterwards. It was a doctor in San Francisco who showed me just where to stick it in. He’d been talking about lumbar and cistern punctures, and he said one had to be very careful, otherwise one went through the cistertia magna and into the medulla oblongata where all the vital nerve centres are, and that that would cause immediate death. I made him show me the exact place several times. I thought it might perhaps come in useful one day. I told him I wanted to use the idea in a film.
It was very dishonourable of Carlotta Adams to write to her sister. She’d promised me to tell nobody. I do think it was clever of me to see what a good thing it would be to tear off that one page and leave he instead of she. I thought of that all by myself. I think I’m more proud of that than anything else. Everyone always says I haven’t got brains - but I think it needed real brains to think of that.
I’d thought things over very carefully and I did exactly what I’d planned when the Scotland Yard man came. I rather enjoyed that part of it. I had thought, perhaps, that he’d really arrest me. I felt quite safe, because they’d have to believe all those people at the dinner and I didn’t see how they could find out about me and Carlotta changing clothes.
After that I felt so happy and contented. My luck had held and I really felt everything was going to go right. The old Duchess was beastly to me, but Merton was sweet. He wanted to marry me as soon as possible and hadn’t the least suspicion.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy as I was those few weeks. My husband’s nephew being arrested made me feel just as safe as anything. And I was more proud of myself than ever for having thought of tearing that page out of Carlotta Adams’ letter.
The Donald Ross business was just sheer bad luck. I’m not quite sure now just how it was he spotted me. Something about Paris being a person and not a place. Even now I don’t know who Paris was - and I think it’s a silly name for a man anyway.
It’s curious how, when luck starts going against you, it keeps on going. I had to do something about Donald Ross quickly, and that did go all right. It mightn’t have, because I hadn’t time to be clever or think of making an alibi. I did think I was safe after that.
Of course Ellis told me you had sent for her and questioned her, but I gathered it was all something to do with Bryan Martin. I couldn’t think what you were driving at. You didn’t ask her whether she had called for the parcel in Paris. I suppose you thought if she repeated that to me I should smell a rat. As it was, it came as a complete surprise. I couldn’t believe it. It was just uncanny the way you seemed to know everything I’d done.
I just felt it was no good. You can’t fight against luck. It was bad luck, wasn’t it? I wonder if you are ever sorry for what you did. After all, I only wanted to be happy in my own way. And if it hadn’t been for me you would never have had anything to do with the case. I never thought you’d be so horribly clever. You didn’t look clever.
It’s funny, but I haven’t lost my looks a bit. In spite of all that dreadful trial and the horrid things that man on the other side said to me, and the way he battered me with questions.
I look much paler and thinner, but it suits me somehow. They all say I’m wonderfully brave. They don’t hang you in public any more, do they? I think that’s a pity.
I’m sure there’s never been a murderess like me before.
I suppose I must say goodbye now. It’s very queer. I don’t seem to realize things a bit. I’m going to see the chaplain tomorrow.
Yours forgivingly (because I must forgive my enemies, mustn’t I?).
Jane Wilkinson.
P.S. Do you think they will put me in Madame Tussauds?

第三十一章 一篇人性记录
一两天以后。我突然被阿根廷有关部门召回。所以此后竟再也没有亲眼见到简•威尔金森。只在报上读到了对她的审判。出乎意料，至少是出乎我的意料的是，在证据面前她完全崩溃了。在她能以自己的聪明和表演自豪的时候。她不会犯错；但当别人发现了她的秘密，她不再有自信时，她就会变成孩子一样。再也无法继续欺骗下去了。所以一经盘问，她就全盘崩溃了。
所以，正如我以前说过的，那次午宴是我最后一次见到简•威尔金森。但每当我想起她。便好像看见她还是那个样子——站在萨伏依饭店她的套房里，身着昂贵的黑色衣服，脸上露出严肃、专注的样子。我相信那不是伪装的。她确实很自然。她的计划成功了，所以她再也没有什么不安和疑虑了。我觉得对那三起杀人案。她丝毫没感到后悔。
我在此再提供一封待她死后才送到波洛处的信。这封信足以代表那个可爱，但无良心的女士。
波洛先生，我一直在考虑，觉得我应该给你写信。我知道你有时会发表一些你的案件调查报告。我想你还没发表过由当事人自己写的记录。我也觉得。我想让人人都知道，我究竟是怎么杀的人。我仍认为计划相当周密。要不是因为你，一切都会过去的。想起这个，我真有些难过，但我想你不得不那样做。我相信，加果我把这个寄给你，你会发表它，让大家都知道经过。你会的，不是吗？我想被记住。我确实认为自己是个相当奇特的人。这里的每一个人都这么认为。
我是在美国认识默顿公爵的。我立刻明白。只要我成了寡妇，他就会娶我。很不幸的是他对离婚有一种很怪的偏见，我想设法改变这个，但没有用处。我必须非常小心，因为他是一个很乖僻的人。
我意识到，我的丈夫一定得死，但是我不知道该怎么着手去做。你能想象得到，在美国，这类事好办得多。我想啊，想啊——但我还是想不出该怎么干。这时，突然我看到卡洛塔•亚当斯模仿我的表演，于是我立刻想到一个办法。在她的帮助下，我可以有不在现场的证据。就在同一天晚上，我见到了你，我突生一个想法，如果让你去说服我的丈夫是个不错的主意。同时，我逢人便说我要杀我丈夫的话，因为我注意到，你越是傻傻地说出实情，越是没有人相信你。我以前与别人签合同时，总是这么干的。同时，装傻也是件好事。我第二次与卡洛塔•亚当斯见面时，我提出了这个想法。我说打个赌，她立刻就中了圈套。她在某个宴会上去扮我，加果她成功了，就可以得到一万美元。她非常热心，有好多主意都是她的——关于换衣服等等。你知道，我们不能在我这，因为有埃利斯。也不能在她那，因为有她的女仆。当然，她并不明白为什么不能那样。当时很尴尬，我只说“不行”。她觉得我有点笨，但她还是让步了，我们就想出了旅店计划。我拿了埃利斯的夹鼻眼镜。
当然我很快意识到她也得除掉。这是很可惜的。但毕竟她模仿别人的表演也够无礼的了。加果她的模仿不是正合我意，我也许旱就生气了。我很少用佛罗那，但我有，那就好办多了。我当时灵机一动。你看，要是让人们看来，她有服麻醉剂的习惯，事情就更好办了。我就定了一个匣子——我本有一个，是朋友送的。我将她的姓名首写字母刻在里面。我还想放一些奇怪的首写字母以及巴黎、十一月等等，这样使人更难查出。我在里茨饭店吃午饭的时候，我写信订购。然后我派埃利斯去取。当然，她不知道是什么。
那个晚上，一切相当顺利。我趁埃利斯在巴黎的时候，拿了她的一把小刀子，因为那刀很好，很锋利。她从未注意到，因为用后我又将刀放回原处了。是旧金山的一位医生告诉我怎样刺入刀子的，他一直在谈论腰椎和骨槽的刺伤。他说要非常小心。否则加果碰到小脑部与延髓之间半球网状的地方，一直刺入延髓，可就危险了。因为那是神经中枢，加果刺中那人就会立刻死去。我让他几次指给我看，确切是哪个地方。我想有一天，也许会有用的。我对他讲，我是想在电影中用这个材料。
卡洛塔•亚当斯将这事写信给她妹妹真是太卑鄙了。她曾答应我不告诉任何人。我看不出有什么比我能够将信中那页撕去，留下个‘他’而不是‘她’更聪明的做法了。这一切郁是自己想出来的。我认为自己对此是最自豪的。人人都会说我没头脑——但我能想出那办法来是需要真正头脑的。
我非常仔细地计划了一切，当伦敦警察厅的人来的时候，我就一切按计划做。我对那一切也狠满意。我还想，大慨他会真的逮捕我。但我觉得银安全。因为他们将不得不相信晚宴上的所有人，我也不认为他们会发现我与卡洛塔换衣服的事。
过后我觉得加此地开心与满足。我运气来了，我觉得一切都会不成问题。公爵夫人对我坏透了，但默顿对我很好。他想尽快娶我，而且对我没有一丝怀疑。
我认为，在我一生中，没有什么时候比那几个星期的生活更快乐了。我丈夫的侄儿被捕，让我觉得更安全了。一想起我将卡洛塔•亚当斯的信撕去一页的事”更是得意。
唐纳德。罗斯的事只是倒霉的事。我不知道为什么他注意到了我。好像巴黎是人不是地方。直到现在，也不知道帕里斯是谁——不管怎么拼，觉得一个男人叫帕里斯这名字真够傻的。
真是奇怪，一件倒霉事来了以后，会接连不断了。我不得不很快地对付唐纳德。罗斯，的行动也很利落。也许并不是很利落，为我没有时间想到一个证明自已不在现场的证据。但我认为自己此后就安全了。
当然，利斯告诉了我，曾叫她去问话。但我认为是与布赖恩•马丁有关的。我不明白你用意何在。你并没问她是否去巴黎取了包裹。我猜你会认为。她对我说了后，就会起疑心。事实上。这使我大吃一惊，简直不能相信。你竟然对我所做的一切了加指掌，人难以置信。
我觉得没用了。你无法和命运抗衡的。真是背运。不是吗？我在想，会不会为你的所作所为感到遗憾。毕竟，只是按自己的方式寻找幸福。要不是因为我，根本不会与这案子有关。我从未想到你加此聪明。你看起来可不怎么聪明。
说来好笑。我仍然容颜依旧。尽管经历了那么多可悄的审讯，告方对我说了那么多难堪的话，及厉害的盘问，还很漂亮。
我比先前苍白了，瘦了。但不知怎么回事，适合我。他们都说我相当勇敢。他们不再公开对犯人施绞刑了？真是遗憾。
我肯定，前绝对不会有像我这样的女凶手。
我想我现在得说再见了。真是很怪的，似乎一点也没认识到怎么回事。我明天要见狱中的教诲师了。
原谅你的
简•威尔金森
（因为我要原谅我的敌人，不是？）
又及。你认为他们会在杜梭夫人蜡像馆里为我制一个像吗？