Part I Chapter 1
Part I Chapter 1
‘You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?’
The question floated out into the still night air, seemed to hang there a moment and then drift
away down into the darkness towards the Dead Sea.
Hercule Poirot paused a minute with his hand on the window catch. Frowning, he shut it
decisively, thereby excluding any injurious night air! Hercule Poirot had been brought up to believe
that all outside air was best left outside, and that night air was especially dangerous to the health.
As he pulled the curtains neatly over the window and walked to his bed, he smiled tolerantly to
himself.
‘You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?’
Curious words for one Hercule Poirot, detective, to overhear on his first night in Jerusalem.
‘Decidedly, wherever I go, there is something to remind me of crime!’ he murmured to himself.
His smile continued as he remembered a story he had once heard concerning Anthony Trollope
the novelist. Trollope was crossing the Atlantic at the time and had overheard two fellow passengers
discussing the last published installment of one of his novels.
‘Very good,’ one man had declared. ‘But he ought to kill off that tiresome old woman.’
With a broad smile the novelist had addressed them:
‘Gentlemen, I am much obliged to you! I will go and kill her immediately!’
Hercule Poirot wondered what had occasioned the words he had just overheard. A collaboration,
perhaps, over a play or a book.
He thought, still smiling: ‘Those words might be remembered, one day, and given a more
sinister meaning.’
There had been, he now recollected, a curious nervous intensity in the voice—a tremor that
spoke of some intense emotional strain. A man’s voice—or a boy’s…
Hercule Poirot thought to himself as he turned out the light by his bed: ‘I should know that voice
again…’
II
Their elbows on the window-sill, their heads close together, Raymond and Carol Boynton gazed out
into the blue depths of the night. Nervously, Raymond repeated his former words: ‘You do see, don’t
you, that she’s got to be killed?’
Carol Boynton stirred slightly. She said, her voice deep and hoarse: ‘It’s horrible…’
‘It’s not more horrible than this!’
‘I suppose not…’
Raymond said violently: ‘It can’t go on like this—it can’t…We must do something…And there
isn’t anything else we can do…’
Carol said—but her voice was unconvincing and she knew it: ‘If we could get away somehow
—?’
‘We can’t.’ His voice was empty and hopeless. ‘Carol, you know we can’t…’
The girl shivered. ‘I know, Ray—I know.’
He gave a sudden short, bitter laugh.
‘People would say we were crazy—not to be able just to walk out—’
Carol said slowly: ‘Perhaps we—are crazy!’
‘I dare say. Yes, I dare say we are. Anyway, we soon shall be…I suppose some people would
say we are already—here we are calmly planning, in cold blood, to kill our own mother!’
Carol said sharply: ‘She isn’t our own mother!’
‘No, that’s true.’
There was a pause and then Raymond said, his voice now quietly matter-of-fact: ‘You do agree,
Carol?’
Carol answered steadily: ‘I think she ought to die—yes…’
Then she broke out suddenly: ‘She’s mad…I’m quite sure she’s mad…She—she couldn’t
torture us like she does if she were sane. For years we’ve been saying: “This can’t go on!” and it has
gone on! We’ve said, “She’ll die some time”—but she hasn’t died! I don’t think she ever will die
unless—’
Raymond said steadily: ‘Unless we kill her…’
‘Yes.’
She clenched her hands on the window-sill in front of her.
Her brother went on in a cool, matter-of-fact tone, with just a slight tremor denoting his deep
underlying excitement.
‘You see why it’s got to be one of us, don’t you? With Lennox, there’s Nadine to consider. And
we couldn’t bring Jinny into it.’
Carol shivered.
‘Poor Jinny…I’m so afraid…’
‘I know. It’s getting pretty bad, isn’t it? That’s why something’s got to be done quickly—before
she goes right over the edge.’
Carol stood up suddenly, pushing back the tumbled chestnut hair from her forehead.
‘Ray,’ she said, ‘you don’t think it’s really wrong, do you?’
He answered in that same would-be dispassionate tone. ‘No. I think it’s just like killing a mad
dog—something that’s doing harm in the world and must be stopped. This is the only way of
stopping it.’
Carol murmured: ‘But they’d—they’d send us to the chair just the same…I mean we couldn’t
explain what she’s like…It would sound fantastic…In a way, you know, it’s all in our own minds!’
Raymond said: ‘Nobody will ever know. I’ve got a plan. I’ve thought it all out. We shall be
quite safe.’
Carol turned suddenly round on him.
‘Ray—somehow or another—you’re different. Something’s happened to you…What’s put all
this into your head?’
‘Why should you think anything’s happened to me?’
He turned his head away, staring out into the night.
‘Because it has…Ray, was it that girl on the train?’
‘No, of course not—why should it be? Oh, Carol, don’t talk nonsense. Let’s get back again to—
to—’
‘To your plan? Are you sure it’s a—good plan?’
‘Yes. I think so…We must wait for the right opportunity, of course. And then—if it goes all
right—we shall be free—all of us.’
‘Free?’ Carol gave a little sigh. She looked up at the stars. Then suddenly she shook from head
to foot in a sudden storm of weeping.
‘Carol, what’s the matter?’
She sobbed out brokenly: ‘It’s so lovely—the night and the blueness and the stars. If only we
could be part of it all…If only we could be like other people instead of being as we are—all queer
and warped and wrong.’
‘But we shall be—all right—when she’s dead!’
‘Are you sure? Isn’t it too late? Shan’t we always be queer and different?’
‘No, no, no.’
‘I wonder—’
‘Carol, if you’d rather not—’
She pushed his comforting arm aside.
‘No, I’m with you—definitely I’m with you! Because of the others—especially Jinny. We must
save Jinny!’
Raymond paused a moment. ‘Then—we’ll go on with it?’
‘Yes!’
‘Good. I’ll tell you my plan…’
He bent his head to hers.
第一部分 第一章
　　第一部分 第一章
　　1
　　“你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！”
　　这句质问飘进寂静的夜，像是在那里悬浮了片刻，紧接着便越飘越远，消失在死海之中。
　　赫尔克里•波洛正抓着窗户把手，愣了片刻。他皱了皱眉，最后还是坚决地关上了窗户，这样就可以杜绝那些伤人的夜间凉气了！赫尔克里•波洛从小就懂得，外面的空气还是留在外面的好，尤其是夜晚的凉气更是有害健康。
　　他拉上窗帘，严整地遮住窗户，走向床边，脸上浮现笑意。“你明白的，不是吗？她必须死！”对于赫尔克里•波洛这位侦探来说，在耶路撒冷的第一个晚上就听到这么一句话，着实有些引他心生好奇。
　　“显然，无论我走到哪儿，犯罪这码事总是缠着我！”他喃喃自语，脸上的笑意未曾消减。他还记起了之前听来的小说家安东尼•特罗洛普的一件事。
　　当时特罗洛普正乘船穿越大西洋，听到两个乘客在讨论自己某部小说最新的连载情节。
　　“很好看，”其中一个人说，“但是他得把那个烦人的老太婆干掉。”
　　小说家眉开眼笑地跟那两个人打招呼：“先生们，乐意之至啊！我现在就去把她干掉！”
　　赫尔克里•波洛想知道，自己刚才听到的那些话是在什么情况下冒出来的。或许是关于一场戏，抑或一本书的讨论？他思索着，笑意犹在唇边。“说不定哪天这席话再被想起，恐怕就带着不吉利的意思了。”
　　他回忆起那个嗓音，里面的焦虑和紧张——发着抖，像是道出了心里绷紧了的思绪。
　　是个男人的声音——或者是个男孩……
　　赫尔克里•波洛关上床头灯。“下次再听到我应该能认出来……”他这样想着。
　　2
　　雷蒙德和卡罗尔•博因顿两人将胳膊肘支在窗台上，头靠头依偎着，凝视着深邃幽蓝的夜空。雷蒙德紧张地又说了一遍之前的话：“你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！”
　　卡罗尔•博因顿不安地动了动，她开口说话，嗓音深沉而粗糙。“这太可怕了……”
　　“再可怕也比不过现在！”
　　“我想也是……”
　　雷蒙德情绪激动。“不能再这样继续下去了——不能……我们必须做点什么……除此之外我们别无他法……”卡罗尔也开口了——但她的话里充满不确定，她自己也明白。“如果我们能设法逃走……”
　　“我们逃不掉的。”声音空洞而绝望，“卡罗尔，你知道我们逃不掉的……”
　　女孩颤抖着。
　　“我知道，雷——我知道。”
　　他突然爆发出一阵急促而痛苦的大笑。“人们会说我们疯了——就连出去走走都不行——”
　　卡罗尔缓缓道：“也许我们是疯了。”
　　“我说也是。是的。我们是疯了。无论如何我们很快就会……这也难怪，我们眼下正在冷静地盘算，无比冷血地筹划着杀死自己的母亲！”
　　卡罗尔尖叫。“她不是我们的母亲！”
　　“是啊，她不是。”
　　沉默了一会儿，雷蒙德接着说了下去，语气仿佛大局已定。“你也同意，是吧，卡罗尔？”
　　卡罗尔稳稳地答话：“我觉得她应该死——是的……”然后她突然爆发了，“她是个疯子……我坚信她是个疯子……她——她如果还有理智的话，不会这么虐待我们！这么多年过去了，我们一直在说：‘不能再这么下去了！’而事实是一切从未改变！我们说‘她总会死的’——但是她一直活得好好的！我不觉得她会死，除非——”
　　雷蒙德冷静地接下去：“除非我们杀了她……”
　　“是的。”
　　她扶着窗台的手紧紧地攥了起来。
　　她的哥哥继续往下说，以一种冷酷而确凿无疑的语气，只是偶尔的颤音透露出他内心深藏的激动。“我们之中总得有个人去做这件事，你明白吗？雷诺克斯要照顾娜丁，我们也不能让金妮来做这件事情啊。”
　　卡罗尔浑身发抖。“可怜的金妮……我好害怕……”
　　“我知道。事情越来越糟了，对吧？这就是为什么越早动手越好——要赶在她再也忍不下去了之前。”
　　卡罗尔突然站了起来，把散在前额的发梢往后面捋了捋。“雷，”她说，“你不觉得这样做有什么不对，是吗？”
　　他用同样算得上是毫无波澜的语气回答：“没什么不对的。我想这就像是杀死一条疯狗——一条在人世造孽的疯狗。想阻止它，这是唯一的法子。”
　　卡罗尔喃喃道：“但是他们——他们依然会把我们送上刑椅……我是说我们没法解释她怎么……这听起来简直像天方夜谭……这，你明白吗，这依然不过是我们脑子里的幻想！”
　　雷蒙德说：“没有人会知道的。我有个计划。我已经全部计划好了。保证万无一失。”
　　卡罗尔猛然转身。“雷——不知道怎的——你不一样了。你怎么了……是谁把那个念头塞进了你脑子里？”
　　“你怎么会觉得我有什么不对劲？”
　　“因为……雷，是因为火车上的那个女孩吗？”
　　“不，当然不是——怎么会是为她呢？哦，卡罗尔，别胡思乱想了，让我们继续讨论——讨论——”
　　“讨论你的计划？你真觉得那是个好主意吗？”
　　“是。我觉得是……我们得等待一个合适的机会，当然。之后——如果事情顺利的话——我们便会获得自由——我们所有人。”
　　“自由？”卡罗尔叹了口气。她抬头仰望群星。突然，她全身战栗，声泪俱下。
　　“卡罗尔，你怎么了？”
　　她近乎崩溃地抽泣着。“这夜色，这湛蓝的夜空，还有这群星——是这么的可爱。如果我们可以融入其中……如果我们能够像其他人那样，而不是现在这样——性情乖戾，大错特错。”
　　“只要她死了，一切都会好起来的！”
　　“你确定吗？已经太迟了吧！我们在旁人眼中，已经是性情古怪了吧？”
　　“不，不，不。”
　　“我觉得——”
　　“卡罗尔，如果你不想——”
　　她推开他满怀安抚的臂膀。“不。我和你一起——我一定和你一起！为了其他人——特别是金妮。我们必须拯救金妮！”
　　雷蒙德愣了愣。“那么——我们应该继续？”
　　“是的！”
　　“好。我这就把我的计划告诉你……”
　　他低头凑到她耳边。
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Miss Sarah King, M.B., stood by the table in the writing-room of the Solomon Hotel in Jerusalem, idly
turning over the papers and magazines. A frown contracted her brows and she looked preoccupied.
The tall middle-aged Frenchman who entered the room from the hall watched her for a moment
or two before strolling up to the opposite side of the table. When their eyes met, Sarah made a little
gesture of smiling recognition. She remembered that this man had come to help her when travelling
from Cairo and had carried one of her suitcases at a moment when no porter appeared to be available.
‘You like Jerusalem, yes?’ asked Dr Gerard after they had exchanged greetings.
‘It’s rather terrible in some ways,’ said Sarah, and added: ‘Religion is very odd!’
The Frenchman looked amused.
‘I know what you mean.’ His English was very nearly perfect. ‘Every imaginable sect
squabbling and fighting!’
‘And the awful things they’ve built, too!’ said Sarah.
‘Yes, indeed.’
Sarah sighed.
‘They turned me out of one place today because I had on a sleeveless dress,’ she said ruefully.
‘Apparently the Almighty doesn’t like my arms in spite of having made them.’
Dr Gerard laughed. Then he said: ‘I was about to order some coffee. You will join me, Miss—?’
‘King, my name is. Sarah King.’
‘And mine—permit me.’ He whipped out a card. Taking it, Sarah’s eyes widened in delighted
awe.
‘Dr Theodore Gerard? Oh! I am excited to meet you. I’ve read all your works, of course. Your
views on schizophrenia are frightfully interesting.’
‘Of course?’ Gerard’s eyebrows rose inquisitively.
Sarah explained rather diffidently.
‘You see—I’m by way of being a doctor myself. Just got my M.B. ’
‘Ah! I see.’
Dr Gerard ordered coffee and they sat down in a corner of the lounge. The Frenchman was less
interested in Sarah’s medical achievements than in the black hair that rippled back from her forehead
and the beautifully shaped red mouth. He was amused at the obvious awe with which she regarded
him.
‘You are staying here long?’ he asked conversationally.
‘A few days. That is all. Then I want to go to Petra.’
‘Aha! I, too, was thinking of going there if it does not take too long. You see, I have to be back
in Paris on the fourteenth.’
‘It takes about a week, I believe. Two days to go, two days there and two days back again.’
‘I must go to the travel bureau in the morning and see what can be arranged.’
A party of people entered the lounge and sat down. Sarah watched them with some interest. She
lowered her voice.
‘Those people who have just come in, did you notice them on the train the other night? They left
Cairo the same time as we did.’
Dr Gerard screwed in an eyeglass and directed his glance across the room. ‘Americans?’
Sarah nodded.
‘Yes. An American family. But—rather an unusual one, I think.’
‘Unusual? How unusual?’
‘Well, look at them. Especially at the old woman.’
Dr Gerard complied. His keen professional glance flitted swiftly from face to face.
He noticed first a tall rather loose-boned man—age about thirty. The face was pleasant but weak
and his manner seemed oddly apathetic. Then there were two good-looking youngsters—the boy had
almost a Greek head. ‘Something the matter with him, too,’ thought Dr Gerard. ‘Yes—a definite state
of nervous tension.’ The girl was clearly his sister, a strong resemblance, and she also was in an
excitable condition. There was another girl younger still—with golden-red hair that stood out like a
halo; her hands were very restless, they were tearing and pulling at the handkerchief in her lap. Yet
another woman, young, calm, dark-haired with a creamy pallor, a placid face not unlike a Luini
Madonna. Nothing jumpy about her! And the centre of the group—‘Heavens!’ thought Dr Gerard,
with a Frenchman’s candid repulsion. ‘What a horror of a woman!’ Old, swollen, bloated, sitting
there immovable in the midst of them—a distorted old Buddha—a gross spider in the centre of a
web!
To Sarah he said: ‘La Maman, she is not beautiful, eh?’ And he shrugged his shoulders.
‘There’s something rather—sinister about her, don’t you think?’ asked Sarah.
Dr Gerard scrutinized her again. This time his eye was professional, not aesthetic.
‘Dropsy—cardiac—’ he added a glib medical phrase.
‘Oh, yes, that!’ Sarah dismissed the medical side.
‘But there is something odd in their attitude to her, don’t you think?’
‘Who are they, do you know?’
‘Their name is Boynton. Mother, married son, his wife, one younger son and two younger
daughters.’
Dr Gerard murmured: ‘La famille Boynton sees the world.’
‘Yes, but there’s something odd about the way they’re seeing it. They never speak to anyone
else. And none of them can do anything unless the old woman says so!’
‘She is of the matriarchal type,’ said Gerard thoughtfully.
‘She’s a complete tyrant, I think,’ said Sarah.
Dr Gerard shrugged his shoulders and remarked that the American woman ruled the earth—that
was well known.
‘Yes, but it’s more than just that.’ Sarah was persistent. ‘She’s—oh, she’s got them all so cowed
—so positively under her thumb—that it’s—it’s indecent!’
‘To have too much power is bad for women,’ Gerard agreed with sudden gravity. He shook his
head.
‘It is difficult for a woman not to abuse power.’
He shot a quick sideways glance at Sarah. She was watching the Boynton family—or rather she
was watching one particular member of it. Dr Gerard smiled a quick comprehending Gallic smile.
Ah! So it was like that, was it?
He murmured tentatively: ‘You have spoken with them—yes?’
‘Yes—at least with one of them.’
‘The young man—the younger son?’
‘Yes. On the train coming here from Kantara. He was standing in the corridor. I spoke to him.’
There was no self-consciousness in her attitude to life. She was interested in humanity and was
of a friendly though impatient disposition.
‘What made you speak to him?’ asked Gerard.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders.
‘Why not? I often speak to people travelling. I’m interested in people—in what they do and
think and feel.’
‘You put them under the microscope, that is to say.’
‘I suppose you might call it that,’ the girl admitted.
‘And what were your impressions in this case?’
‘Well,’ she hesitated, ‘it was rather odd…To begin with, the boy flushed right up to the roots of
his hair.’
‘Is that so remarkable?’ asked Gerard drily.
Sarah laughed.
‘You mean that he thought I was a shameless hussy making advances to him? Oh, no, I don’t
think he thought that. Men can always tell, can’t they?’
She gave him a frank questioning glance. Dr Gerard nodded his head.
‘I got the impression,’ said Sarah, speaking slowly and frowning a little, ‘that he was—how
shall I put it? — both excited and appalled. Excited out of all proportion — and quite absurdly
apprehensive at the same time. Now that’s odd, isn’t it? Because I’ve always found Americans
unusually self-possessed. An American boy of twenty, say, has infinitely more knowledge of the
world and far more savoir-faire than an English boy of the same age. And this boy must be over
twenty.’
‘About twenty-three or four, I should say.’
‘As much as that?’
‘I should think so.’
‘Yes…perhaps you’re right…Only, somehow, he seems very young…’
‘Maladjustment mentally. The “child” factor persists.’
‘Then I am right? I mean, there is something not quite normal about him?’
Dr Gerard shrugged his shoulders, smiling a little at her earnestness.
‘My dear young lady, are any of us quite normal? But I grant you that there is probably a
neurosis of some kind.’
‘Connected with that horrible old woman, I’m sure.’
‘You seem to dislike her very much,’ said Gerard, looking at her curiously.
‘I do. She’s got a—oh, a malevolent eye!’
Gerard murmured: ‘So have many mothers when their sons are attracted to fascinating young
ladies!’
Sarah shrugged an impatient shoulder. Frenchmen were all alike, she thought, obsessed by sex!
Though, of course, as a conscientious psychologist she herself was bound to admit that there was
always an underlying basis of sex to most phenomena. Sarah’s thoughts ran along a familiar
psychological track.
She came out of her meditations with a start. Raymond Boynton was crossing the room to the
centre table. He selected a magazine. As he passed her chair on his return journey she looked at him
and spoke.
‘Have you been busy sightseeing today?’
She selected her words at random, her real interest was to see how they would be received.
Raymond half stopped, flushed, shied like a nervous horse and his eyes went apprehensively to
the centre of his family group. He muttered: ‘Oh—oh, yes—why, yes, certainly. I—’
Then, as suddenly as though he had received the prick of a spur, he hurried back to his family,
holding out the magazine.
The grotesque Buddha-like figure held out a fat hand for it, but as she took it her eyes, Dr
Gerard noticed, were on the boy’s face. She gave a grunt, certainly no audible thanks. The position of
her head shifted very slightly. The doctor saw that she was now looking hard at Sarah. Her face was
quite impassive, it had no expression in it. Impossible to tell what was passing in the woman’s mind.
Sarah looked at her watch and uttered an exclamation.
‘It’s much later than I thought.’ She got up. ‘Thank you so much, Dr Gerard, for standing me
coffee. I must write some letters now.’
He rose and took her hand.
‘We shall meet again, I hope,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes! Perhaps you will come to Petra?’
‘I shall certainly try to do so.’
Sarah smiled at him and turned away. Her way out of the room led her past the Boynton family.
Dr Gerard, watching, saw Mrs Boynton’s gaze shift to her son’s face. He saw the boy’s eyes
meet hers. As Sarah passed, Raymond Boynton half turned his head—not towards her, but away from
her…It was a slow, unwilling motion and conveyed the idea that old Mrs Boynton had pulled an
invisible string.
Sarah King noticed the avoidance, and was young enough and human enough to be annoyed by
it. They had had such a friendly talk together in the swaying corridor of the wagons-lits. They had
compared notes on Egypt, had laughed at the ridiculous language of the donkey boys and street touts.
Sarah had described how a camel man when he had started hopefully and impudently, ‘You English
lady or American?’ had received the answer: ‘No, Chinese.’ And her pleasure in seeing the man’s
complete bewilderment as he stared at her. The boy had been, she thought, like a nice eager
schoolboy—there had been, perhaps, something almost pathetic about his eagerness. And now, for no
reason at all, he was shy, boorish—positively rude.
‘I shan’t take any more trouble with him,’ said Sarah indignantly.
For Sarah, without being unduly conceited, had a fairly good opinion of herself. She knew
herself to be definitely attractive to the opposite sex, and she was not one to take a snubbing lying
down!
She had been, perhaps, a shade over-friendly to this boy because, for some obscure reason, she
had felt sorry for him.
But now, it was apparent, he was merely a rude, stuck-up, boorish young American!
Instead of writing the letters she had mentioned, Sarah King sat down in front of her dressing-
table, combed the hair back from her forehead, looked into a pair of troubled hazel eyes in the glass,
and took stock of her situation in life.
She had just passed through a difficult emotional crisis. A month ago she had broken off her
engagement to a young doctor some four years her senior. They had been very much attracted to each
other, but had been too much alike in temperament. Disagreements and quarrels had been of common
occurrence. Sarah was of too imperious a temperament herself to brook a calm assertion of autocracy.
Like many high-spirited women, Sarah believed herself to admire strength. She had always told
herself that she wanted to be mastered. When she met a man capable of mastering her she found that
she did not like it at all! To break off her engagement had cost her a good deal of heart-burning, but
she was clear-sighted enough to realize that mere mutual attraction was not a sufficient basis on
which to build a lifetime of happiness. She had treated herself deliberately to an interesting holiday
abroad in order to help on forgetfulness before she went back to start working in earnest.
Sarah’s thoughts came back from the past to the present.
‘I wonder,’ she thought, ‘if Dr Gerard will let me talk to him about his work. He’s done such
marvelous work. If only he’ll take me seriously…Perhaps—if he comes to Petra—’
Then she thought again of the strange boorish young American.
She had no doubt that it was the presence of his family which had caused him to react in such a
peculiar manner, but she felt slightly scornful of him, nevertheless. To be under the thumb of one’s
family like that—it was really rather ridiculous—especially for a man!
And yet…
A queer feeling passed over her. Surely there was something a little odd about it all?
She said suddenly out loud: ‘That boy wants rescuing! I’m going to see to it!’
第二章
第二章
医学学士莎拉•金小姐，正站在耶路撒冷所罗门酒店的写作室里，百无聊赖地翻阅着报
纸和杂志。她蹙着眉，若有所思。
一个高个子的中年法国人从大堂走进写作室，看了她一会儿，接着信步走到她桌子的
另一侧。两人目光相遇，莎拉认出对方后，微微一笑。
她记得这个男人。在从开罗过来的路上，这个人曾经帮她搬了一个行李箱，那时候她
刚好找不到乘务员来抬箱子。
两人寒暄了一番之后，男士问道：“你觉得耶路撒冷怎么样，喜欢这儿吗？”
“从某方面来说，这里其实很奇怪。”莎拉说着又补充道，“尤其是宗教！”
法国人看起来饶有兴趣。
“我明白你的意思，”他的英语几近完美，“各种花样百出的宗教纷争！”
“他们的建筑也很怪异！”莎拉说。
“是的，没错。”
莎拉叹了口气。“今天，就因为我穿了件没袖的上衣，他们居然不让我进门。”她悲伤
地说，“显然，那位全知全能的神不喜欢我的胳膊，虽然明明是他把我造出来的。”
杰拉德笑了笑，然后说：“我想喝点咖啡，一起吗，这位小姐？”
“我姓金，莎拉•金。”
“我——这是我的名片。”他抽出一张卡片。
莎拉接过来。她马上瞪大了眼睛，带着敬畏，还有些欣喜。“杰拉德医生？哦！见到您
太荣幸了！我读过您所有的书，一本不落。您关于精神分裂的观点实在是惊人的有趣！”
“‘一本不落’？”杰拉德饶有兴趣地挑了挑眉毛。
莎拉颇为羞涩地解释说：“你看——我刚好也是学医的。刚刚才拿到学士学位。”
“啊！我明白了。”
杰拉德医生要来了咖啡，两人坐在角落的沙发上。比起莎拉的医学造诣，这位法国人
显然更在意那被她捋回耳后的黑发，还有那形状美丽的红唇。她对他那显而易见的敬畏也
让法国人觉得非常有意思。
“你要在这儿待很久吗？”他随意地问。
“三五天吧。然后我要去佩特拉。”
“啊？我也是，如果路途不远的话，正琢磨着去看看呢。你看，我十四号就得回巴黎
了。”
“我想得花一周呢。两天去，停留两天，然后再花两天回来。”
“早上我得去趟旅行社，看看他们能怎么安排。”
这时，一群人走进了休息室坐下。
莎拉饶有兴致地看着他们。她压低声音说：“刚刚进来的那些人——在火车上那晚，你
留意他们了吗？他们是和我们同一时间离开开罗的。”
杰拉德戴上眼镜，望了望房间对面。“美国人？”
莎拉点点头。
“是的，是来自美国的一家人。但是——我觉得他们有些不对劲。”
“不对劲？怎么说？”
“嗯，看看他们，特别是那个老夫人。”杰拉德依言望去，以敏锐的职业眼光迅速地扫
了一眼那群人。他首先注意到的是一位高个子、骨架柔软的男人——大约三十岁。长相讨
喜，气色虚弱，举止冷漠得奇怪。那边还有两个年轻人，相貌端正——那个男孩几乎有一
副雅典人的容貌。“他也有点问题，”杰拉德医生想，“是的——绝对是精神紧张。”女孩显
然是他的姐妹，面容相似，她也处于一种情绪激动的状态中；还有一个姑娘，更为年轻
——一头红金色的头发，发色很亮，如同光环一般炫目。她的双手躁动不安：正撕扯着膝
上的手帕。除此以外还有一个女人，年轻，安静，黑发，皮肤雪白，面容恬静，令人想起
圣母。她身上倒没有焦虑的气息。而在人群的中央——“我的老天！”杰拉德医生的想法带
着法国人坦白直率的憎恶。“多么可怕的一个女人！”苍老，浮肿，傲慢，无可撼动地坐在
他们中间——如同一只扭曲盘踞在蜘蛛网中心的老蜘蛛！
他对莎拉说：“她可一点儿也不美。”他耸耸肩。
“她有些——有些让人觉得不祥，不是吗？”莎拉问。
杰拉德又仔细审视了下那个女人。这次他的眼光是专业而非审美性的了。“水肿——心
脏病吧。”他念叨了几个医学名词。
“哦，没错！”莎拉对他的医学观点心不在焉，“但是这些人对她的态度有些奇怪，你不
觉得吗？”
“这些人是谁，你认识吗？”
“他们姓博因顿。母亲，已婚的大儿子、儿媳，小儿子和两个小女儿。”
杰拉德医生喃喃道：“博因顿一家环游世界？”
“是的，但是他们对她的态度真的很奇怪。他们从不和别人说话。除非那个老女人点
头，否则他们中的任何人都不能做任何事！”
“她是个母系氏族族长的典型代表吧。”杰拉德思索着说道。
“在我看来，她是个十足的暴君。”莎拉说。
杰拉德医生耸耸肩，表示美国女人统治地球——这点大家都知道。
“是的，但是不仅如此。”莎拉坚持着，“她——哦，她死死地控制着他们——简直就是
攥在手心里——这简直，简直太过分了！”
“拥有太多权力对女人不好。”杰拉德突然严肃地赞同了一句，接着摇摇头说，“对女人
来说，不滥用权力太难了。”他飞快地扫了一眼莎拉。她正看着博因顿一家人——或者应该
说她看的是那家人里的某一位成员。杰拉德医生会心一笑。啊！原来如此，原来如此啊。
他试探着问了句：“你跟他们聊过天，对吗？”
“是的——跟其中的一个聊过。”
“那个年轻男人——那个小儿子？”
“是的。就在从坎塔拉到这里的火车上。他站在走廊里。我跟他聊了几句。”
莎拉为人外向开朗，对人性满怀好奇，尽管脾气火暴，但待人友善。
“你为什么想和他说话呢？”杰拉德问。
莎拉耸耸肩。“为什么不呢？我旅行的时候经常和人聊天。我对人很有兴趣——对于他
们所行、所想、所感都有兴趣。”
“也就是说，你把他们放到放大镜下面看喽！”
“可以那么说吧。”女孩承认。
“这回有什么让你印象深刻的？”
“好吧——”她犹豫着——“我觉得很奇怪……首先是那个男孩，脸都红到头发根了。”
“这很奇怪吗？”杰拉德干巴巴地问。
莎拉笑了。“你是说，他以为我是个无耻的轻佻女郎，在勾引他？哦不，我不认为他是
那么想的。男人是可以分辨出来的，对吗？”
她看着他，眼神坦然。杰拉德医生点点头。
“我觉得，”莎拉说，语速缓慢，微蹙着眉，“他——怎么形容呢——既激动又战战兢
兢。激动得有些不同寻常——而且还非常敏感，几乎到了荒唐的地步。这很奇怪，不是
吗，我通常都觉得美国人自视很高呢。一个二十岁的美国男孩，和同龄的英国男孩相比，
通常懂得比同龄的英国男孩要多得多，为人处世也更圆滑。他肯定已经二十多岁了。”
“我估计得有二十三四岁了。”
“有那么大吗？”
“我看差不多。”
“是的……或许你是对的……只是，不知为什么，他看起来稚气未脱……”
“心智失调的话，孩子气的成分总是会多留一些的。”
“这么说我是对的？我是说，他身上有些什么显得相当不正常。”
杰拉德医生耸耸肩，因她的急切而微笑起来。“我亲爱的小姐，我们中有谁是非常正常
的吗？不过我可以向你担保，那个人确实有些问题，可能是某种精神官能症。”
“一定是那个可怕的老女人造成的！”
“你似乎非常不喜欢她。”杰拉德医生说，好奇地看着她。
“是的。她——哦，她的眼神太恶毒了！”
杰拉德喃喃地说：“很多母亲在自己的儿子被漂亮姑娘勾走魂的时候都会这样。”
莎拉不耐烦地耸耸肩。法国人都是一个样，她想，脑子里只有性！当然，她自己作为
一个很有自知之明的精神分析医生，也必须得承认，大多数现象的产生都基于底下暗藏着
的性的动机。莎拉的思绪沿着熟悉的心理分析一路奔走。她突然一惊，从沉思中醒过来。
雷蒙德•博因顿正穿过房间，走到了中间的桌旁。他选了一本杂志，返回途中路过莎拉椅子
的时候，莎拉抬头看着他说：“今天的观光之旅很忙吧？”
她只是随口找个话题，想看看他们会对此作何反应。
雷蒙德停下脚步，又满面绯红，惊慌失措，如同一匹紧张的马，畏惧的视线直接投向
了他家族的中央。他喃喃道：“哦——哦，是的——那个，是的，当然了。我——”紧接
着，就如同突然被人勒紧了马缰，他快步走回家人那里，递出杂志。
那如同古老佛像一般端坐着的老夫人伸出胖胖的手接过杂志，但是与此同时，杰拉德
医生注意到，老夫人的视线是落在那个男孩脸上的。她嘟囔了句，几不可闻的谢谢。她的
头轻微地动了动。医生看得出，她看向莎拉的目光颇为严厉，但神情木然。你完全没办法
搞清楚她脑子里在想些什么。
莎拉看看自己的表，嚷出声来：“都这个时间了！”她站起身，“非常感谢你，杰拉德医
生，谢谢你的咖啡。我现在得去写几封信了。”他站起身与她握手告别。
“希望日后我们还能再见面。”他说。
“哦，当然！你会去佩特拉吧？”
“我尽量安排。”
莎拉微笑着转身离去。她走出屋子需要从博因顿一家旁边经过。
杰拉德医生看到，博因顿老夫人的视线转回到儿子身上。他看到那个男孩和母亲目光
交汇。当莎拉与他们擦肩而过的时候，雷蒙德•博因顿扭了下头——不是冲着莎拉而是避
开……动作缓慢，不情不愿，就如同是博因顿老夫人正牵着一根隐形的线操纵着他。
莎拉•金也注意到了他的举动，她年轻气盛而又待人热情，自然是被激怒了。他们之前
明明在卧铺车厢晃悠悠的走廊上友善地聊过天；曾经交流过彼此对埃及的印象，还一起为
牵驴小孩和街上揽客的人的笑话哈哈大笑。莎拉曾经跟他讲过，曾有个牵着骆驼的人满怀
期待地过来找她，毫无礼貌地问：“请问，你是美国小姐，还是英国小姐——”她回答
说：“都不是，我是中国人。”那人完全被搞晕了，瞪着她的样子是如何的让莎拉发笑。莎
拉想着，那时，这个男孩就像个热情友好、有教养的学生——他的热情曾经几乎到了让人
伤感的地步。而现在，完全毫无理由的，他变得腼腆而怯懦，简直可以说是粗鲁无礼。
“我就不该跟他扯上任何关系。”莎拉怒气冲冲地想。莎拉不是鼻孔朝天的傲慢小姐，
但也从不妄自菲薄。她知道自己对异性有着毋庸置疑的吸引力，而且自己也绝不是那种受
了气只会哭哭啼啼的类型！她确实，或许可以这么说，曾经对这个男孩有着超出一般友谊
的感觉，说不准是什么奇怪的由头，她为他感到难过。
但是现在，显然他不过是个粗鲁莽撞的美国傻小伙！莎拉•金并没有动手写她之前说的
信，而是坐在梳妆台前，把头发梳到脑后，看着镜子里一双怔怔的眼睛，想着自己现在的
处境。
她刚刚度过一场艰难的感情危机。一个月前，她和未婚夫分手了。那位年轻医生大她
四岁。他们曾经彼此吸引，如胶似漆，但两人的性格实在过于相像。争吵、摩擦时有发
生。莎拉性格独立、要强，绝无可能忍受那样的独断专行。
如同许多要强的女人一样，莎拉相信自己是仰慕强大力量的。她总是告诉自己，希望
有人来支配、主宰她。当她遇到一个足以主宰她的男人时，却又发现自己根本一点都不喜
欢这种感觉！解除婚约让她心力交瘁，但是她很清楚，相互的吸引并不足以成为建立一生
幸福的根基。她特意给自己准备了这次海外旅行，为的就是抛掉这段过去，好再次满怀热
忱地投入到自己的事业中去。
莎拉的思绪从过去回到现在。
她很明白，因为家人在场，他对自己的态度才会如此古怪，但是尽管如此，她还是觉
得有些看不起他。像那样被自己的家人控制得死死的——这简直可笑至极——特别是对一
个男人来说！而且……
一阵古怪的感觉攫住了她。肯定是有什么地方不对劲，对吗？
她突然大声喊了出来：“那个男孩在求救！我一定要设法救他！”
Chapter 3
Chapter 3
When Sarah had left the lounge, Dr Gerard sat where he was for some minutes. Then he strolled to
the table, picked up the latest number of Le Matin and strolled with it to a chair a few yards away
from the Boynton family. His curiosity was aroused.
He had at first been amused by the English girl’s interest in this American family, shrewdly
diagnosing that it was inspired by interest in one particular member of the family. But now something
out of the ordinary about this family party awakened in him the deeper, more impartial interest of the
scientist. He sensed that there was something here of definite psychological interest.
Very discreetly, under the cover of his paper, he took stock of them. First the boy in whom that
attractive English girl took such a decided interest. Yes, thought Gerard, definitely the type to appeal
to her temperamentally. Sarah King had strength—she possessed well-balanced nerves, cool wits and
a resolute will. Dr Gerard judged the young man to be sensitive, perceptive, diffident and intensely
suggestible. He noted with a physician’s eye the obvious fact that the boy was at the moment in a
state of high nervous tension. Dr Gerard wondered why. He was puzzled. Why should a young man
whose physical health was obviously good, who was abroad ostensibly enjoying himself, be in such a
condition that nervous breakdown was imminent?
The doctor turned his attention to the other members of the party. The girl with the chestnut hair
was obviously Raymond’s sister. They were of the same racial type, small-boned, well-shaped,
aristocratic looking. They had the same slender well-formed hands, the same clean line of jaw, and
the same poise of the head on a long, slender neck. And the girl, too, was nervous…She made slight
involuntary nervous movements, her eyes were deeply shadowed underneath and over bright. Her
voice, when she spoke, was too quick and a shade breathless. She was watchful—alert—unable to
relax.
‘And she is afraid, too,’ decided Dr Gerard. ‘Yes, she is afraid!’
He overheard scraps of conversation—a very ordinary normal conversation.
‘We might go to Solomon’s Stables?’ ‘Would that be too much for Mother?’ ‘The Wailing Wall
in the morning?’ ‘The Temple, of course—the Mosque of Omar they call it—I wonder why?’
‘Because it’s been made into a Moslem mosque, of course, Lennox.’
Ordinary commonplace tourist’s talk. And yet, somehow, Dr Gerard felt a queer conviction that
these overheard scraps of dialogue were all singularly unreal. They were a mask — a cover for
something that surged and eddied underneath—something too deep and formless for words…Again
he shot a covert glance from behind the shelter of Le Matin.
Lennox? That was the elder brother. The same family likeness could be traced, but there was a
difference. Lennox was not so highly strung; he was, Gerard decided, of a less nervous temperament.
But about him, too, there seemed something odd. There was no sign of muscular tension about him as
there was about the other two. He sat relaxed, limp. Puzzling, searching among memories of patients
he had seen sitting like that in hospital wards, Gerard thought:
‘He is exhausted—yes, exhausted with suffering. That look in the eyes—the look you see in a
wounded dog or a sick horse—dumb bestial endurance…It is odd, that…Physically there seems
nothing wrong with him…Yet there is no doubt that lately he has been through much suffering—
mental suffering—now he no longer suffers—he endures dumbly—waiting, I think, for the blow to
fall…What blow? Am I fancying all this? No, the man is waiting for something, for the end to come.
So cancer patients lie and wait, thankful that an anodyne dulls the pain a little…’
Lennox Boynton got up and retrieved a ball of wool that the old lady had dropped.
‘Here you are, Mother.’
‘Thank you.’
What was she knitting, this monumental impassive old woman? Something thick and coarse.
Gerard thought: ‘Mittens for inhabitants of a workhouse!’ And smiled at his own fantasy.
He turned his attention to the youngest member of the party—the girl with the golden-red hair.
She was, perhaps, nineteen. Her skin had the exquisite clearness that often goes with red hair.
Although over thin, it was a beautiful face. She was sitting smiling to herself—smiling into space.
There was something a little curious about that smile. It was so far removed from the Solomon Hotel,
from Jerusalem…It reminded Dr Gerard of something…Presently it came to him in a flash. It was the
strange unearthly smile that lifts the lips of the Maidens in the Acropolis at Athens—something
remote and lovely and a little inhuman…The magic of the smile, her exquisite stillness gave him a
little pang.
And then with a shock, Dr Gerard noticed her hands. They were concealed from the group round
her by the table, but he could see them clearly from where he sat. In the shelter of her lap they were
picking—picking—tearing a delicate handkerchief into tiny shreds.
It gave him a horrible shock. The aloof remote smile—the still body—and the busy destructive
hands…
第三章
　　第三章
　　莎拉离开后，杰拉德医生在原地多待了一会儿。他走向桌子，捡起最新的一份晨报，坐到了离博因顿一家大约几码外的一把椅子上翻阅着。这家人勾起了他的好奇心。
　　最初，他是被那个英国姑娘对这个美国家庭的兴趣打动了。一开始，他断然认为那个姑娘只是对那家里的某一个人有兴趣罢了。但是现在，这普通的一家人中有些事情触动了他，触动了他作为研究学者心里更为深切和专业的兴趣。他意识到，其中确实是有些什么可以被归到精神研究领域里的。
　　在报纸的伪装下，他小心地观察着他们。一开始，最令人感兴趣的是那位吸引了英国姑娘的年轻男孩。没错，杰拉德想，绝对是能吸引莎拉的类型。莎拉•金拥有力量——她的神经平稳均衡，头脑冷静锐利，意志也很坚韧。杰拉德判断那个男孩是那种敏感，腼腆、容易接受暗示的类型。他以精神学家的视角审视着这个男孩。此刻，显而易见的是，他的精神高度紧张。杰拉德医生很想知道原因。他很困惑。为何一个理应心理状态良好的年轻男子，在国外放松旅行的时候，会处于如此一种精神状态，紧绷到时刻能够崩溃的临界点呢？
　　医生的注意力转向家族里的其他人。栗色头发的女孩想来是雷蒙德的妹妹。一望便知，他们是同一血统：骨架玲珑，体型良好，五官端正富有美感。他们的手同样修长，形状优美，下巴线条一样的干净利落，还有那类似的头形，修长的脖颈。而这女孩……同样的紧张。她也显得十分亢奋，过于发亮的眼神里藏着深深的黑暗。当她张口说话的时候，语速极快，几乎喘不过气。她似乎时刻警觉着，枕戈待旦——无法放松。
　　“而且她也在害怕。”杰拉德断言，“是的，她害怕！”
　　他听到了一些对话的片段——非常正常普通的谈话。
　　“我们或许可以去所罗门的马厩看看。”
　　“妈妈能受得了吗？”
　　“上午去看看哭墙？”
　　“寺庙，当然好——他们管它叫奥马尔的莫斯科 [1] 。我不知道为什么。”
　　“当然会这样称呼啊，那是个清真寺啊，雷诺克斯。”
　　非常普通常见的游客谈话。然而不知为何，杰拉德医生有一种奇怪的感觉，觉得自己听到的这些对话片段都带着不真实的感觉。如同伪装——就像是平静的湖面下藏着一些盘旋回转的暗流——隐藏得太深而无法诉诸言语……他从报纸后面扫了一眼。
　　雷诺克斯？那应该是哥哥。他身上有着类似的家族特征，但有很大不同。雷诺克斯看起来没有那么紧张，杰拉德想，的确没那么神经质。但是，他也有些古怪。他身上没有像其他两人那么明显的肢体紧绷感。他懒洋洋地坐在那里。杰拉德满怀疑惑，他回忆起自己曾在医院里看到的一些坐着的病人。“他很累——是的，饱受折磨后的疲劳。他的眼神——那眼神就像是受伤的狗，抑或生病的马——如同野兽一般隐忍着伤痛……这很奇怪啊……从身体上来看，他并无异样……然而毫无疑问，他绝对是经受了长时间的痛苦折磨——心理上的折磨。而现在他不再受其折磨了——只是麻木的隐忍——等待，我想，就像是等着最后一槌落下……最后的什么？我是怎么幻想出这一切的？不对，这男人是在等待着什么，等着最后末日的到来。就像是得了癌症的人躺着等死，感谢镇痛剂让自己多少得到了解脱……”
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿站起身，拾起老夫人掉在地上的一个毛线球。
　　“给你，妈妈。”
　　“谢谢。”
　　这位身材臃肿、面无表情的老夫人在编织些什么？又厚又重的什么东西。杰拉德想，给某家救济院编的手套？这幻想让他笑了起来。
　　他的注意力转到了家族里较为年轻的成员身上——发色金红的姑娘。她看起来只有十七岁。皮肤干干净净，和她的金红色头发相得益彰。虽然有些过于瘦弱，但脸庞十分秀美。她还在自顾自地微笑——对着虚空。那微笑里有些让人好奇的东西，离这家旅馆、离耶路撒冷非常非常的遥远……这让杰拉德想起了什么。此刻回忆席卷而来，如同闪电。那是一种奇妙的微笑，仿佛从雅典卫城的少女唇边荡漾出来——遥不可及，几乎非人间所有……这一微笑似有魔力，那优雅的恬静让他有些发怔。
　　紧接着，杰拉德医生注意到了她的手，顿时大惊失色。她的手放在桌下，她的家人看不到。但杰拉德医生从自己坐的地方可以清楚地看到。在她的膝头，她的双手正——正在撕扯——把一块精致的手帕扯成碎片。
　　这让他直接愣在了那里。
　　那淡然美妙的微笑——那恬静的姿态——还有那双急切地破坏的手……[1]在英语里，莫斯科与清真寺（Mosque）发音相近。
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
There was a slow asthmatic wheezing cough—then the monumental knitting woman spoke.
‘Ginevra, you’re tired, you’d better go to bed.’
The girl started, her fingers stopped their mechanical action. ‘I’m not tired, Mother.’
Gerard recognized appreciatively the musical quality of her voice. It had the sweet singing
quality that lends enchantment to the most commonplace utterances.
‘Yes, you are. I always know. I don’t think you’ll be able to do any sightseeing tomorrow.’
‘Oh! but I shall. I’m quite all right.’
In a thick hoarse voice—almost a grating voice, her mother said: ‘No, you’re not. You’re going
to be ill.’
‘I’m not! I’m not!’
The girl began trembling violently.
A soft, calm voice said: ‘I’ll come up with you, Jinny.’
The quiet young woman with wide, thoughtful grey eyes and neatly-coiled dark hair rose to her
feet.
Old Mrs Boynton said: ‘No. Let her go up alone.’
The girl cried: ‘I want Nadine to come!’
‘Then of course I will.’ The young woman moved a step forward.
The old woman said: ‘The child prefers to go by herself—don’t you, Jinny?’
There was a pause—a pause of a moment, then Ginevra Boynton said, her voice suddenly flat
and dull:
‘Yes; I’d rather go alone. Thank you, Nadine.’
She moved away, a tall angular figure that moved with a surprising grace.
Dr Gerard lowered his paper and took a full satisfying gaze at old Mrs Boynton. She was
looking after her daughter and her fat face was creased into a peculiar smile. It was, very faintly, a
caricature of the lovely unearthly smile that had transformed the girl’s face so short a time before.
Then the old woman transferred her gaze to Nadine. The latter had just sat down again. She
raised her eyes and met her mother-in-law’s glance. Her face was quite imperturbable. The old
woman’s glance was malicious.
Dr Gerard thought: ‘What an absurdity of an old tyrant!’
And then, suddenly, the old woman’s eyes were full on him, and he drew in his breath sharply.
Small black smouldering eyes they were, but something came from them, a power, a definite force, a
wave of evil malignancy. Dr Gerard knew something about the power of personality. He realized that
this was no spoilt tyrannical invalid indulging petty whims. This old woman was a definite force. In
the malignancy of her glare he felt a resemblance to the effect produced by a cobra. Mrs Boynton
might be old, infirm, a prey to disease, but she was not powerless. She was a woman who knew the
meaning of power, who had exercised a lifetime of power and who had never once doubted her own
force. Dr Gerard had once met a woman who performed a most dangerous and spectacular act with
tigers. The great slinking brutes had crawled to their places and performed their degrading and
humiliating tricks. Their eyes and subdued snarls told of hatred, bitter fanatical hatred, but they had
obeyed, cringed. That had been a young woman, a woman with an arrogant dark beauty, but the look
had been the same.
‘Une dompteuse,’ said Dr Gerard to himself.
And he understood now what that undercurrent to the harmless family talk had been. It was
hatred—a dark eddying stream of hatred.
He thought: ‘How fanciful and absurd most people would think me! Here is a commonplace
devoted American family reveling in Palestine—and I weave a story of black magic round it!’
Then he looked with interest at the quiet young woman who was called Nadine. There was a
wedding ring on her left hand, and as he watched her he saw her give one swift betraying glance at
the fair-haired, loose-limbed Lennox. He knew, then…
They were man and wife, those two. But it was a mother’s glance rather than a wife’s—a true
mother’s glance—protecting, anxious. And he knew something more. He knew that, alone out of that
group, Nadine Boynton was unaffected by her mother-in-law’s spell. She may have disliked the old
woman, but she was not afraid of her. The power did not touch her.
She was unhappy, deeply concerned about her husband, but she was free.
Dr Gerard said to himself: ‘All this is very interesting.’
第四章
　　第四章
　　一阵缓慢而气急的咳嗽声，紧接着，那浮肿的正忙着编织的女人开了口。
　　“吉内芙拉，你累了，最好还是去睡吧。”
　　女孩受了惊吓，手停止了毫无章法的举动。
　　“我不累，妈妈。”
　　杰拉德赞叹地听着她如同音乐般悦耳的话语，声音玲珑甜美，使最为普通的句子都镀上了一层歌唱般的韵味。
　　“不，你累了。我知道的。不然，你明天就不能出门观光了。”
　　“哦！我可以的。我真的可以。”
　　她母亲的声音厚重粗糙，几近刺耳。“不，你不行。你会生病的。”
　　“不！我不会生病，不会的！”女孩急促地嚷起来。
　　有个轻柔安详的声音响了起来。“我和你一起上去，金妮 [1] 。”之前那个有着大眼睛、满怀沉思的年轻女人站起身来，她的头发盘得整整齐齐。
　　博因顿老夫人说：“不。她一个人上去。”
　　女孩哭了出来。“我想要娜丁和我一起！”
　　“我当然会和你一起。”年轻女人往前迈了一步。
　　老夫人说：“这孩子想自己一个人上去——不是吗，金妮？”
　　沉默在她们头顶盘旋了片刻——接着吉内芙拉•博因顿开了口，声音突然变得平白而呆板。“是的——我想自己上去。谢谢你，娜丁。”
　　她走开了，高挑瘦削的身形走起路来带着惊人的优雅。
　　杰拉德医生放低了报纸，把博因顿老夫人的全部举止都看在眼里。她正盯着自己的女儿，肥胖的脸上渐渐挤出一个古怪的微笑。这微笑就像是扭曲了的刚才那女孩美丽的笑容。接着老夫人将眼神投向娜丁。
　　娜丁已经坐下了。她抬起眼，直视着婆婆。她面容沉静，从容不迫。老夫人的眼神则含着怒意。
　　杰拉德医生想：“她可真是个不可理喻的暴君！”
　　突然，老夫人的眼神径直投向他，杰拉德医生猛地深吸了口气。那双眼睛又小又黑，浑浊不清，但是里面有些什么——一股强大的、不容置疑的力量，如同一股邪恶的波涛席卷过来。杰拉德对这种人格的力量略知一二。他意识到，这并不是什么反复无常、专制独裁的性格分裂。这女人拥有毋庸置疑的强势。从她恶毒的眼神里，杰拉德医生已经感受到了如同眼镜蛇一般的威慑。博因顿老夫人或许可以用年老、体衰、重病缠身来形容，但她绝不是毫无力量。
　　她是个清楚知道何为力量的女人，她的一生是强力操控的一生，她从不怀疑自己的控制力。杰拉德医生曾经遇到过一个驯兽女郎，她与老虎一同做惊险表演。凶猛的野兽老实地盘踞在她指定的地方，然后做出各种低级可耻的表演动作。从猛兽的眼神和低声咆哮中分明可以看出它的憎恶和痛恨，但是它们对她俯首帖耳，怕得只会哆嗦。那个年轻女人，那个傲慢的黑发美人，便有着和老夫人一样的神情。
　　“驯兽师！”杰拉德自言自语。他现在终于明白在这看似和谐温馨的家庭谈话里，那潜伏着的暗流是什么了。是憎恶——那激流回荡的憎恶。
　　他想着：“别人会怎么看我啊，肯定觉得我荒谬可笑！人家只是来自美国的正常人家，举家来巴勒斯坦旅行——而我硬是编造出了一场混杂着黑魔法的故事安在其中！”
　　紧接着，他满怀兴致地看着那个被称为娜丁的年轻女人。她的左手戴着一枚婚戒，他观察着她，看着她迅速地扫了一眼那个头发浓密、体态松弛的雷诺克斯，泄露了她的心迹。那时他就知道了……他们是一对夫妇。但是那眼神，与其说是他的妻子，倒不如说是他的母亲——真正的母性眼神——满怀着保护意识和焦虑。而且他现在知道的比这还要多。他知道，在这一群人里，娜丁•博因顿是唯一不受她婆婆咒法控制的人。她或许是讨厌这老夫人，但并不怕她。她的魔力对娜丁无效。
　　尽管她怏怏不乐，为丈夫满怀忧虑，但她是自由的。
　　杰拉德医生自言自语：“这可真是有趣极了。”
　　[1]金妮（Jinny）是吉内芙拉（Ginevra）的昵称。
Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Into these dark imaginings a breath of the commonplace came with almost ludicrous effect.
A man came into the lounge, caught sight of the Boyntons and came across to them. He was a
pleasant middle-aged American of a strictly conventional type. He was carefully dressed, with a long
clean-shaven face and he had a slow, pleasant, somewhat monotonous voice.
‘I was looking around for you all,’ he said.
Meticulously he shook hands with the entire family. ‘And how do you find yourself, Mrs
Boynton? Not too tired by the journey?’
Almost graciously, the old lady wheezed out: ‘No, thank you. My health’s never good, as you
know—’
‘Why, of course, too bad—too bad.’
‘But I’m certainly no worse.’
Mrs Boynton added with a slow reptilian smile: ‘Nadine, here, takes good care of me, don’t you,
Nadine?’
‘I do my best.’ Her voice was expressionless.
‘Why, I bet you do,’ said the stranger heartily. ‘Well, Lennox, and what do you think of King
David’s city?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
Lennox spoke apathetically—without interest.
‘Find it kind of disappointing, do you? I’ll confess it struck me that way at first. But perhaps you
haven’t been around much yet?’
Carol Boynton said: ‘We can’t do very much because of Mother.’
Mrs Boynton explained: ‘A couple of hours’ sightseeing is about all I can manage every day.’
The stranger said heartily: ‘I think it’s wonderful you manage to do all you do, Mrs Boynton.’
Mrs Boynton gave a slow, wheezy chuckle; it had an almost gloating sound.
‘I don’t give in to my body! It’s the mind that matters! Yes, it’s the mind…’
Her voice died away. Gerard saw Raymond Boynton give a nervous jerk.
‘Have you been to the Wailing Wall yet, Mr Cope?’ he asked.
‘Why, yes, that was one of the first places I visited. I hope to have done Jerusalem thoroughly in
a couple more days, and I’m letting them get me out an itinerary at Cook’s so as to do the Holy Land
thoroughly — Bethlehem, Nazareth, Tiberias, the Sea of Galilee. It’s all going to be mighty
interesting. Then there’s Jerash, there are some very interesting ruins there—Roman, you know. And
I’d very much like to have a look at the Rose Red City of Petra, a most remarkable natural
phenomenon, I believe that is—and right off the beaten track—but it takes the best part of a week to
get there and back, and do it properly.’
Carol said: ‘I’d love to go there. It sounds marvelous.’
‘Why, I should say it was definitely worth seeing—yes, definitely worth seeing.’ Mr Cope
paused, shot a somewhat dubious glance at Mrs Boynton, and then went on in a voice that to the
listening Frenchman was palpably uncertain:
‘I wonder now if I couldn’t persuade some of you people to come with me? Naturally I know
you couldn’t manage it, Mrs Boynton, and naturally some of your family would want to remain with
you, but if you were to divide forces, so to speak—’
He paused. Gerard heard the even click of Mrs Boynton’s knitting needles. Then she said:
‘I don’t think we’d care to divide up. We’re a very homey group.’ She looked up. ‘Well,
children, what do you say?’
There was a queer ring in her voice. The answers came promptly. ‘No, Mother.’ ‘Oh, no.’ ‘No,
of course not.’
Mrs Boynton said, smiling that very odd smile of hers: ‘You see—they won’t leave me. What
about you, Nadine? You didn’t say anything.’
‘No, thank you, Mother, not unless Lennox cares about it.’
Mrs Boynton turned her head slowly towards her son.
‘Well, Lennox, what about it, why don’t you and Nadine go? She seems to want to.’
He started—looked up. ‘I—well—no, I—I think we’d better all stay together.’
Mr Cope said genially: ‘Well, you are a devoted family!’ But something in his geniality rang a
little hollow and forced.
‘We keep to ourselves,’ said Mrs Boynton. She began to wind up her ball of wool. ‘By the way,
Raymond, who was that young woman who spoke to you just now?’
Raymond started nervously. He flushed, then went white.
‘I—I don’t know her name. She—she was on the train the other night.’
Mrs Boynton began slowly to try to heave herself out of her chair.
‘I don’t think we’ll have much to do with her,’ she said.
Nadine rose and assisted the old woman to struggle out of her chair. She did it with a
professional deftness that attracted Gerard’s attention.
‘Bedtime,’ said Mrs Boynton. ‘Good night, Mr Cope.’
‘Good night, Mrs Boynton. Good night, Mrs Lennox.’
They went off—a little procession. It did not seem to occur to any of the younger members of
the party to stay behind.
Mr Cope was left looking after them. The expression on his face was an odd one.
As Dr Gerard knew by experience, Americans are disposed to be a friendly race. They have not
the uneasy suspicion of the travelling Briton. To a man of Dr Gerard’s tact making the acquaintance
of Mr Cope presented few difficulties. The American was lonely and was, like most of his race,
disposed to friendliness. Dr Gerard’s card-case was again to the fore.
Reading the name on it, Mr Jefferson Cope was duly impressed.
‘Why, surely, Dr Gerard, you were over in the States not very long ago?’
‘Last autumn. I was lecturing at Harvard.’
‘Of course. Yours, Dr Gerard, is one of the most distinguished names in your profession. You’re
pretty well at the head of your subject in Paris.’
‘My dear sir, you are far too kind! I protest.’
‘No, no, this is a great privilege—meeting you like this. As a matter of fact, there are several
very distinguished people here in Jerusalem just at present. There’s yourself and there’s Lord
Welldon, and Sir Gabriel Steinbaum, the financier. Then there’s the veteran English archaeologist,
Sir Manders Stone. And there’s Lady Westholme, who’s very prominent in English politics. And
there’s that famous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot.’
‘Little Hercule Poirot? Is he here?’
‘I read his name in the local paper as having lately arrived. Seems to me all the world and his
wife are at the Solomon Hotel. A mighty fine hotel it is, too. And very tastefully decorated.’
Mr Jefferson Cope was clearly enjoying himself. Dr Gerard was a man who could display a lot
of charm when he chose. Before long the two men had adjourned to the bar.
After a couple of highballs Gerard said: ‘Tell me, is that a typical American family to whom you
were talking?’
Jefferson Cope sipped his drink thoughtfully. Then he said: ‘Why, no, I wouldn’t say it was
exactly typical.’
‘No? A very devoted family, I thought.’
Mr Cope said slowly: ‘You mean they all seem to revolve round the old lady? That’s true
enough. She’s a very remarkable old lady, you know.’
‘Indeed?’
Mr Cope needed very little encouragement. The gentle invitation was enough.
‘I don’t mind telling you, Dr Gerard, I’ve been having that family a good deal on my mind
lately. I’ve been thinking about them a lot. If I may say so, it would ease my mind to talk to you
about the matter. If it won’t bore you, that is?’
Dr Gerard disclaimed boredom. Mr Jefferson Cope went on slowly, his pleasant clean-shaven
face creased with perplexity.
‘I’ll tell you straight away that I’m just a little worried. Mrs Boynton, you see, is an old friend of
mine. That is to say, not the old Mrs Boynton, the young one, Mrs Lennox Boynton.’
‘Ah, yes, that very charming dark-haired young lady.’
‘That’s right. That’s Nadine. Nadine Boynton, Dr Gerard, is a very lovely character. I knew her
before she was married. She was in hospital then, working to be a trained nurse. Then she went for a
vacation to stay with the Boyntons and she married Lennox.’
‘Yes?’
Mr Jefferson Cope took another sip of highball and went on:
‘I’d like to tell you, Dr Gerard, just a little of the Boynton family history.’
‘Yes? I should be most interested.’
‘Well, you see, the late Elmer Boynton—he was quite a well-known man and a very charming
personality—was twice married. His first wife died when Carol and Raymond were tiny toddlers. The
second Mrs Boynton, so I’ve been told, was a handsome woman when he married her, though not
very young. Seems odd to think she can ever have been handsome to look at her now, but that’s what
I’ve been told on very good authority. Anyway, her husband thought a lot of her and adopted her
judgement on almost every point. He was an invalid for some years before he died, and she
practically ruled the roost. She’s a very capable woman with a fine head for business. A very
conscientious woman, too. After Elmer died, she devoted herself absolutely to these children. There’s
one of her own, too, Ginevra—pretty red-haired girl, but a bit delicate. Well, as I was telling you,
Mrs Boynton devoted herself entirely to her family. She just shut out the outside world entirely. Now
I don’t know what you think, Dr Gerard, but I don’t think that’s always a very sound thing.’
‘I agree with you. It is most harmful to developing mentalities.’
‘Yes, I should say that just about expresses it. Mrs Boynton shielded these children from the
outside world and never let them make any outside contacts. The result of that is that they’ve grown
up — well, kind of nervy. They’re jumpy, if you know what I mean. Can’t make friends with
strangers. It’s bad, that.’
‘It is very bad.’
‘I’ve no doubt Mrs Boynton meant well. It was just over-devotion on her part.’
‘They all live at home?’ asked the doctor.
‘Yes.’
‘Do neither of the sons work?’
‘Why, no. Elmer Boynton was a rich man. He left all his money to Mrs Boynton for her lifetime
—but it was understood that it was for the family upkeep generally.’
‘So they are dependent on her financially?’
‘That is so. And she’s encouraged them to live at home and not go out and look for jobs. Well,
maybe that’s all right, there’s plenty of money, they don’t need to take a job, but I think for the male
sex, anyway, work’s a good tonic. Then, there’s another thing — they’ve none of them got any
hobbies. They don’t play golf. They don’t belong to any country club. They don’t go around to
dances or do anything with the other young people. They live in a great barrack of a house way down
in the country miles from anywhere. I tell you, Dr Gerard, it seems all wrong to me.’
‘I agree with you,’ said Dr Gerard.
‘Not one of them has got the least social sense. The community spirit—that’s what’s lacking!
They may be a very devoted family, but they’re all bound up in themselves.’
‘There has never been any question of one or other of them branching out for him or herself?’
‘Not that I’ve heard of. They just sit around.’
‘Do you put the blame for that on them or on Mrs Boynton?’
Jefferson Cope shifted uneasily.
‘Well, in a sense, I feel she is more or less responsible. It’s bad bringing-up on her part. All the
same, when a young fellow comes to maturity it’s up to him to kick over the traces of his own accord.
No boy ought to keep on being tied to his mother’s apron strings. He ought to choose to be
independent.’
Dr Gerard said thoughtfully: ‘That might be impossible.’
‘Why impossible?’
‘There are methods, Mr Cope, of preventing a tree from growing.’
Cope stared. ‘They’re a fine healthy lot, Dr Gerard.’
‘The mind can be stunted and warped as well as the body.’
‘They’re bright mentally, too.’
Jefferson Cope went on: ‘No, Dr Gerard, take it from me, a man has got the control of his own
destiny right there in his own hands. A man who respects himself strikes out on his own and makes
something of his life. He doesn’t just sit round and twiddle his thumbs. No woman ought to respect a
man who does that.’
Gerard looked at him curiously for a minute or two. Then he said: ‘You refer particularly, I
think, to Mr Lennox Boynton?’
‘Why, yes, it was Lennox I was thinking of. Raymond’s only a boy still. But Lennox is just on
thirty. Time he showed he was made of something.’
‘It is a difficult life, perhaps, for his wife?’
‘Of course it’s a difficult life for her! Nadine is a very fine girl. I admire her more than I can say.
She’s never let drop one word of complaint. But she’s not happy, Dr Gerard. She’s just as unhappy as
she can be.’
Gerard nodded his head.
‘Yes, I think that well might be.’
‘I don’t know what you think about it, Dr Gerard, but I think that there’s a limit to what a
woman ought to put up with! If I were Nadine I’d put it to young Lennox straight. Either he sets to
and proves what he’s made of, or else—’
‘Or else, you think, she should leave him?’
‘She’s got her own life to live, Dr Gerard. If Lennox doesn’t appreciate her as she ought to be
appreciated—well, there are other men who will.’
‘There is—yourself, for instance?’
The American flushed. Then he looked straight at the other with a certain simple dignity.
‘That’s so,’ he said. ‘I’m not ashamed of my feeling for that lady. I respect her and I am very
deeply attached to her. All I want is her happiness. If she were happy with Lennox, I’d sit right back
and fade out of the picture.’
‘But as it is?’
‘But as it is I’m standing by! If she wants me, I’m here!’
‘You are, in fact, the parfait gentil knight,’ murmured Gerard.
‘Pardon?’
‘My dear sir, chivalry only lives nowadays in the American nation! You are content to serve
your lady without hope of reward! It is most admirable, that! What exactly do you hope to be able to
do for her?’
‘My idea is to be right here at hand if she needs me.’
‘And what, may I ask, is the older Mrs Boynton’s attitude towards you?’
Jefferson Cope said slowly: ‘I’m never quite sure about that old lady. As I’ve told you, she isn’t
fond of making outside contacts. But she’s been different to me, she’s always very gracious and treats
me quite like one of the family.’
‘In fact, she approves of your friendship with Mrs Lennox?’
‘She does.’
Dr Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
‘That is, perhaps, a little odd?’
Jefferson Cope said stiffly: ‘Let me assure you, Dr Gerard, there is nothing dishonourable in that
friendship. It is purely platonic.’
‘My dear sir, I am quite sure of that. I repeat, though, that for Mrs Boynton to encourage that
friendship is a curious action on her part. You know, Mr Cope, Mrs Boynton interests me—she
interests me greatly.’
‘She is certainly a remarkable woman. She has great force of character—a most prominent
personality. As I say, Elmer Boynton had the greatest faith in her judgement.’
‘So much so that he was content to leave his children completely at her mercy from the financial
point of view. In my country, Mr Cope, it is impossible by law to do such a thing.’
Mr Cope rose. ‘In America,’ he said, ‘we’re great believers in absolute freedom.’
Dr Gerard rose also. He was unimpressed by the remark. He had heard it made before by people
of many different nationalities. The illusion that freedom is the prerogative of one’s own particular
race is fairly widespread.
Dr Gerard was wiser. He knew that no race, no country and no individual could be described as
free. But he also knew that there were different degrees of bondage.
He went up to bed thoughtful and interested.
第五章
第五章
医生沉浸在私密的幻想中，突然有个人大大咧咧地插了进来，简直有些滑稽的意味。
一个男人走进屋子里，看到了博因顿一家之后，朝他们走来。
他是个颇为典型的中年美国人，衣着考究，长脸，刮得很干净，说起话来缓慢又快
活，但有些单调。
“我正四处找你们呢。”他一边说，一边和整个家族的人一一握手致意。
“你觉得身体如何呢，博因顿夫人？没有因为旅行而感到过于劳累吧？”
老夫人几乎算得上优雅地嘶声道：“没有，谢谢关心。我的身体一向不好，正如你所知
道的——”
“哦，当然；确实不好啊，不好。”
“但是也不会更糟，”博因顿老夫人以一种缓慢阴沉的笑语补充道，“娜丁会好好照顾我
的，对吗，娜丁？”
“我自然会尽力而为。”回答得波澜不惊。
“哦，我敢说你一定会的，”新来的这位热情地说，“说说吧，雷诺克斯，你觉得大卫王
的城市如何啊？”
“哦，我不知道该怎么说。”雷诺克斯无动于衷地答道——显然勾不起一丝兴致。
“觉得有点失望，是吧？我得承认，一开始我也是这么觉得的。但是或许你应该再多转
一转？”
卡罗尔•博因顿说：“因为妈妈在，我们逛不了多少地方。”
博因顿老夫人解释道：“我的身体每天也只能应付几个小时的观光罢了。”
陌生人好心地回答：“我觉得能做到这么久已经很厉害了，博因顿夫人。”
老夫人缓缓地笑了几声，说：“我是不会屈从于我的身体的！重要的是心！没错，是
心……”
她的声音渐渐消失。杰拉德看到雷蒙德•博因顿紧张地抽搐了一下。
“你去过哭墙了吗，柯普先生？”他问道。
“哦，去了，那是我参观的第一个地方。我希望在这几天里充分感受一下耶路撒冷，然
后再让旅行社帮我制定一个旅行计划，这样我就可以把圣地转个够——伯利恒、拿撒勒、
提比利亚和加利利海。我想这一定会非常有趣。然后还有耶拉西，那里有非常有趣的遗址
——古罗马人的啊。此外，我要去好好看看佩特拉的蔷薇城，据说那是最令人惊叹的自然
景观。我相信肯定非同凡响。但是去那里的话，光是往返就得一周呢。”
卡罗尔说：“我很想去看看。听起来太美好了。”
“哦，我敢说那里绝对非常值得一看——是的，绝对非常值得一看。”柯普先生顿了
顿，迟疑地望了一眼博因顿老夫人，接着用一种在法国人听来显然是犹豫不决的口吻问
道，“说起来，你们有没有人想跟我一起去？我自然明白您的身体是没办法去的，博因顿夫
人，而且您家里肯定会留人和您在一起；但是如果你们能分批行动的话，这样一来——”
他住口不言。杰拉德听到博因顿老夫人编织针撞击的轻响。接着老夫人开了口：“我想
大家都不愿意分开行动，我们是非常团结的一家人。”她抬头，“哦，孩子们，你们觉得
呢？”
她的话语里有种奇怪的调子。答案随之而来——“是啊，妈妈。”“哦，我们不分
开。”“不，当然不。”
博因顿老夫人脸上挂着那副非常古怪的笑容。“你看——他们不愿意离开我。你呢，娜
丁？你还什么都没说呢。”
“不去了，谢谢你，母亲。除非雷诺克斯去，不然我也不去。”
博因顿老夫人缓缓地扭头看向她的儿子。“哦，雷诺克斯，你觉得呢？为什么你不和娜
丁一起去呢？她似乎很想去。”
他吓了一跳，抬起头来。“我——哦——不，我——我想我们还是待在一起的好。”
柯普先生亲切地说：“哦，真是亲密友爱的一家人！”但这亲切的话语里却带上了一丝
空洞和无奈的意味。
“我们坚守彼此，”博因顿老夫人一边说，一边卷起毛线球来，“顺便问一下，雷蒙德，
刚刚跟你说话的那个姑娘是谁？”
雷蒙德吓得骤然紧张起来。他的脸腾地红了，接着又煞白。“我——我不知道她叫什
么，她——她昨晚跟我们乘一列火车。”
博因顿老夫人动作迟缓地试着从椅子里站起身来。“我想我们跟她应该不会有什么关
系。”她说。
娜丁站起身，扶着老人离开椅子。她的动作带有一种职业性的熟练，这引起了杰拉德
的注意。
“该休息啦，”博因顿老夫人说，“晚安，柯普先生。”
“晚安，博因顿夫人，晚安，雷诺克斯先生。”
他们离开了——一个接着一个。这群人里较年轻的几位没有表现出任何想要留下的意
愿。
柯普先生落在后面，望着他们。他脸上的神情非常古怪。
根据杰拉德医生的经验，美国人通常都非常亲切、易于接近。他们没有英国游客那种
令人不快的狐疑心理。对杰拉德医生这种精于世故的人来说，结识柯普先生并非难事。那
位美国人正独自站在那里，而且，和他的大多数同胞一样亲切友善。杰拉德医生掏出名片
递给他。
杰弗逊•柯普读了读上面的头衔，顿时肃然起敬。
“哦，天哪，是杰拉德医生，你最近不是刚好去过美国吗？”
“是的，去年秋天，我去哈佛做演讲。”
“当然了，杰拉德医生，您可是声名卓著。在巴黎，您可谓是行业权威啊。”
“哦，我亲爱的先生，您真是太客气了。不敢当啊，不敢当。”
“不，不，能在这里遇见您真是我莫大的荣幸。实际上，耶路撒冷现在正有好几位名人
在这里呢。除了您之外，还有威尔登爵士、财务官加布利尔•斯坦因包莫爵士、英国考古学
权威曼德斯•斯通爵士，以及英国政界知名的韦斯特霍姻爵士夫人、比利时的名探赫尔克里•
波洛。”
“赫尔克里•波洛？他在这里？”
“当地的报纸刊登了他到达这里的消息。在我看来，世界名流都云集如此。当然，这的
确是个不错的酒店。装潢相当有品位。”
杰弗逊•柯普显然心情很好。杰拉德医生是个长袖善舞的人。没过多久，两人就快活地
一起去喝酒了。
两轮威士忌苏打下肚后，杰拉德说：“跟我说说，刚刚跟你聊天的那家人是典型的美国
家庭吗？”
杰弗逊•柯普若有所思地啜饮了一口自己的酒。接着他说：“哦不，我想这家人不能算
典型。”
“不是？但确实是个非常有凝聚力的家庭呢。”
柯普缓缓地说：“你是说他们似乎都凝聚在那个老夫人身边？这一点倒是没错。她确实
是位非同寻常的老夫人。”
“是吗？”
柯普先生正需要一点点鼓励。这句温和的邀请来得恰如其分。“我不介意告诉你，杰拉
德医生，我最近脑子里一直都在想这家人的事情。跟你聊聊应该能让我心里轻松一点。我
想这应该不会让你乏味吧？”
杰拉德医生声明不会的。杰弗逊•柯普继续缓缓地说下去，他那刮得干干净净的脸因困
惑而皱了起来。
“我可以坦率地告诉你，我有点担心。博因顿夫人是我的一个老朋友，不是那位年老的
博因顿夫人，而是年轻的那位。雷诺克斯•博因顿的太太。”
“啊，是的，那位漂亮迷人的黑发女士。”
“没错。她叫娜丁。娜丁•博因顿。杰拉德医生，她是位非常可爱的女人。在她结婚前
我就认识她，那时候她还在医院工作，正受训要成为护士。接着她去博因顿家待了一段日
子度假，之后不久她就嫁给了雷诺克斯。”
“哦？”
杰弗逊•柯普又啜饮了一口威士忌，继续说了下去。“我可以跟你说一说博因顿家族的
历史。”
“哦，我还真的很好奇。”
“哦，已故的埃尔默•博因顿先生——他非常出名，也非常有魅力——结过两次婚。第
一任妻子在卡罗尔和雷蒙德刚刚学会走路的时候就过世了。我听说，第二任妻子长得非常
俊俏，在嫁给他的时候，年纪已经不小了。看她现在的样子很难想象她当年俊俏的模样，
但我听说的故事确实如此。不管怎么说，她的丈夫很疼爱她，对她几乎百依百顺，言听计
从。他去世前几年便已经卧病在床，这女人便实际上掌管了家里的一切。她是个非常有能
力的女人，很有经济头脑，也是个非常有良心的女人。埃尔默死后，她把一切都献给了自
己的孩子。有一个孩子是她亲生的，就是那个吉内芙拉——有点虚弱的红发姑娘。哦，正
如我告诉你的，博因顿老夫人把一切都奉献给了家庭。她几乎让整个家庭与外面的世界完
全隔绝。哦，我不知道你是怎么想的。但我觉得这并不是件值得称道的事情。”
“我和你看法一致。这对孩子心智的发展伤害极大。”
“是的，我也是这么觉得的。博因顿老夫人把这些孩子和外界完全隔离开来，从来不让
他们和外面有任何接触。结果就是，他们成长得——哦，可以说有些神经质，非常容易受
到惊吓，你明白我在说什么吧——没法和陌生人交朋友。这很糟糕。”
“确实非常糟糕。”
“我并不是觉得博因顿老夫人有什么恶意。只是她爱得有点过分了。”
“他们都住在家里？”医生问道。
“是的。”
“儿子们都不工作吗？”
“哦，是的。埃尔默•博因顿非常富有。他把所有的钱都留给了博因顿老夫人——不过
据说这是为了抚育这一大家子人。”
“所以他们在财务上完全依赖她？”
“正是如此。而且她鼓励他们住在家里，不要出去找工作。好吧，或许这也没错，毕竟
他们有的是钱，根本不需要找工作。但是我觉得，作为男人来说，工作能让他们强壮起
来。话说到这儿，还有更过分的呢——他们没有任何兴趣爱好，不打高尔夫球，不参加任
何乡村俱乐部，不出去跳舞，或者和同龄的人做任何事。他们住在乡下的大房子里，周围
几英里都荒无人烟。我跟你说，杰拉德医生，在我看来，这绝对是大错特错的。”
“我的看法和你一样。”杰拉德医生说。
“他们中没有一个人具备基本的社交技能。合作精神更是完全没有！他们可以说是非常
团结的一家人，但真的是互相束缚、捆绑在了一起。”
“他们中就没有人提出质疑，或者想要离开吗？”
“据我听说的是没有。他们就那样围坐在一起。”
“你觉得这是他们自己的问题，还是博因顿老夫人的错？”
杰弗逊•柯普有些坐立不安。“哦，从某种感觉上来说，我觉得她多多少少是有责任
的，她的教育方法不对头。但从另一个角度看，当一个孩子已经成年的时候，他有责任去
走自己的路。没有人应该一直依赖母亲不肯出去。他应该选择独立。”
杰拉德医生若有所思地说：“这或许是不可能的事情。”
“为什么不可能？”
“柯普先生，这世上是有法子能阻止树成长的。”
柯普目瞪口呆。“他们每个人都很健康啊，杰拉德医生。”
“神智和身体一样，可以被困住、被阻碍。”
“但他们显然都并不蠢笨。”
杰拉德医生叹了口气。
杰弗逊•柯普继续说道：“不，杰拉德医生，听我一句，一个人是能够把命运握在自己
手里的。一个男人，如果自尊自爱，就应该奋起抗争，为自己的人生打拼一番。他不该坐
在那里，把玩自己的大拇指。没有任何女人会尊重这样的男人。”
杰拉德医生好奇地看了他一两分钟，接着说道：“你是意有所指吧，我想。你说的是雷
诺克斯•博因顿？”
“哦，是的。我想的就是雷诺克斯•博因顿。雷蒙德还是个孩子。但是雷诺克斯都三十
岁了。到这个年纪，他早就该有点什么成就了。”
“对他的妻子来说，这样的生活或许很艰辛吧？”
“对她来说当然太艰辛了！娜丁是个非常好的姑娘。我爱慕她到了几乎无法言说的地
步。她从来没有抱怨过一句。但是她不幸福，杰拉德医生，她的日子过得苦极了。”
杰拉德医生点点头。“是的，我想是的。”
“我不知道你是怎么想的，杰拉德医生，但是我想一个女人需要承受的苦难肯定是有界
限的！如果我是娜丁，我一定会和雷诺克斯说个明白。要么他挺身去证明自己是个男人，
要么——”
“要么怎样，你觉得她应该离开她？”
“她应该有自己的生活，杰拉德医生。如果雷诺克斯不懂得珍惜她，总还有别的男人愿
意的。”
“比如说——你就愿意吧？”
这位美国人红了脸。接着，他正视对方，带着一种近乎天真的庄重。“是的，”他
说，“我不会以自己对那位女士的情感为耻。我尊重她，而且深深地爱慕着她。我只想要她
幸福。如果她和雷诺克斯幸福，我自然会退出，不会再出现。”
“但她并不幸福。”
“是的，她不幸福。那我就等在这儿！只要她需要，我会立刻出现！”
“你可真是位‘真正的骑士’啊。”杰拉德医生低声说。
“你说什么？”
“我亲爱的先生，如今这个时代，骑士精神只能在美国出现了吧！你心甘情愿地为你的
女神奉献，不求任何回报！这真是太让人敬佩了！具体一点说，你想要为她做什么呢？”
“只要她需要，我随时在她身边待命。”
“我能问问博因顿老夫人对你的态度如何吗？”
杰弗逊•柯普缓缓地说：“我从来都摸不准那位老夫人的脾气。我刚才不是说她不喜欢
和外界的人有来往吗？但是她似乎对我不同。她待我总是非常和蔼，如同自家人一样。”
“也就是说，她其实很赞成你和雷诺克斯太太的友谊？”
“确实如此。”
杰拉德医生耸耸肩。“哦，你不觉得这有点奇怪吗？”
杰弗逊•柯普冷冷地答道：“我先跟你保证，杰拉德医生，这友谊是非常纯粹的，完全
是柏拉图式的。”
“亲爱的先生，对此我确信无疑。但我还是得重申一遍，对于博因顿老夫人来说，鼓励
这种友谊不是很奇怪的举动吗？你明白的，柯普先生，博因顿老夫人令我很感兴趣——非
常感兴趣。”
“她自然是位非同一般的女性。她个性很强——才能卓著。正如我所说的，已故的埃尔
默•博因顿对她的判断笃信不疑。”
“那他应该很满意让自己的孩子都完全在经济上依附于她吧。在我们国家，柯普先生。
这可是违法的。”
柯普先生站起来。“在美国，”他说，“我们崇尚绝对的自由。”
杰拉德医生也站了起来。对这一声明，他不为所动。他听过许多不同国度的人说过这
句话。自由是某个民族独有的特质，持有这种幻想的人几乎遍布全球。
杰拉德医生要明智得多。他知道没有哪个种族，国家，抑或个人可以说是完全自由
的。但是他也知道，即便是不自由，也是分很多层次的。
他若有所思，兴致盎然地走向卧室。
Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Sarah King stood in the precincts of the Temple—the Haramesh-Sherif. Her back was to the Dome of
the Rock. The splashing of fountains sounded in her ears. Little groups of tourists passed by without
disturbing the peace of the oriental atmosphere.
Strange, thought Sarah, that once a Jebusite should have made this rocky summit into a
threshing floor and that David should have purchased it for six hundred shekels of gold and made it a
Holy Place. And now the loud chattering tongues of sightseers of all nations could be heard.
She turned and looked at the Mosque which now covered the shrine and wondered if Solomon’s
temple would have looked half as beautiful.
There was a clatter of footsteps and a little party came out from the interior of the Mosque. It
was the Boyntons escorted by a voluble dragoman. Mrs Boynton was supported between Lennox and
Raymond. Nadine and Mr Cope walked behind. Carol came last. As they were moving off, the latter
caught sight of Sarah.
She hesitated, then, on a sudden decision, she wheeled round and ran swiftly and noiselessly
across the courtyard.
‘Excuse me,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I must—I—I felt I must speak to you.’
‘Yes?’ said Sarah.
Carol was trembling violently. Her face was quite white.
‘It’s about—my brother. When you—you spoke to him last night you must have thought him
very rude. But he didn’t mean to be—he—he couldn’t help it. Oh, do please believe me.’
Sarah felt that the whole scene was ridiculous. Both her pride and her good taste were offended.
Why should a strange girl suddenly rush up and tender a ridiculous apology for a boorish brother?
An off-hand reply trembled on her lips—and then, quickly, her mood changed.
There was something out of the ordinary here. This girl was in deadly earnest. That something
in Sarah which had led her to adopt a medical career reacted to the girl’s need. Her instinct told her
there was something badly wrong.
She said encouragingly: ‘Tell me about it.’
‘He spoke to you on the train, didn’t he?’ began Carol.
Sarah nodded. ‘Yes; at least, I spoke to him.’
‘Oh, of course. It would be that way round. But, you see, last night Ray was afraid—’
She stopped.
‘Afraid?’
Carol’s white face crimsoned.
‘Oh, I know it sounds absurd—mad. You see, my mother—she’s—she’s not well—and she
doesn’t like us making friends outside. But—but I know Ray would—would like to be friends with
you.’
Sarah was interested. Before she could speak, Carol went on: ‘I—I know what I’m saying
sounds very silly, but we are—rather an odd family.’ She cast a quick look round—it was a look of
fear.
‘I—I mustn’t stay,’ she murmured. ‘They may miss me.’
Sarah made up her mind. She spoke.
‘Why shouldn’t you stay—if you want to? We might walk back together.’
‘Oh, no.’ Carol drew back. ‘I—I couldn’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ said Sarah.
‘I couldn’t really. My mother would be—would be—’
Sarah said clearly and calmly:
‘I know it’s awfully difficult sometimes for parents to realize that their children are grown up.
They will go on trying to run their lives for them. But it’s a pity, you know, to give in! One must
stand up for one’s rights.’
Carol murmured: ‘You don’t understand—you don’t understand in the least…’
Her hands twisted together nervously.
Sarah went on: ‘One gives in sometimes because one is afraid of rows. Rows are very
unpleasant, but I think freedom of action is always worth fighting for.’
‘Freedom?’ Carol stared at her. ‘None of us have ever been free. We never will be.’
‘Nonsense!’ said Sarah clearly.
Carol leaned forward and touched her arm.
‘Listen. I must try and make you understand! Before her marriage my mother — she’s my
stepmother really—was a wardress in a prison. My father was the Governor and he married her.
Well, it’s been like that ever since. She’s gone on being a wardress—to us. That’s why our life is just
—being in prison!’
Her head jerked round again.
‘They’ve missed me. I—I must go.’
Sarah caught her by the arm as she was darting off.
‘One minute. We must meet again and talk.’
‘I can’t. I shan’t be able to.’
‘Yes, you can.’ She spoke authoritatively. ‘Come to my room after you go to bed. It’s 319.
Don’t forget, 319.’
She released her hold. Carol ran off after her family.
Sarah stood staring after her. She awoke from her thoughts to find Dr Gerard by her side.
‘Good morning, Miss King. So you’ve been talking to Miss Carol Boynton?’
‘Yes, we had the most extraordinary conversation. Let me tell you.’
She repeated the substance of her conversation with the girl. Gerard pounced on one point.
‘Wardress in a prison, was she, that old hippopotamus? That is significant, perhaps.’
Sarah said:
‘You mean that that is the cause of her tyranny? It is the habit of her former profession.’
Gerard shook his head.
‘No, that is approaching it from the wrong angle. There is some deep underlying compulsion.
She does not love tyranny because she has been a wardress. Let us rather say that she became a
wardress because she loved tyranny. In my theory it was a secret desire for power over other human
beings that led her to adopt that profession.’
His face was very grave.
‘There are such strange things buried down in the unconscious. A lust for power—a lust for
cruelty—a savage desire to tear and rend—all the inheritance of our past racial memories…They are
all there, Miss King, all the cruelty and savagery and lust…We shut the door on them and deny them
conscious life, but sometimes—they are too strong.’
Sarah shivered. ‘I know.’
Gerard continued: ‘We see it all round us today—in political creeds, in the conduct of nations. A
reaction from humanitarianism — from pity — from brotherly good- will. The creeds sound well
sometimes—a wise régime—a beneficent government—but imposed by force—resting on a basis of
cruelty and fear. They are opening the door, these apostles of violence, they are letting up the old
savagery, the old delight in cruelty for its own sake! Oh, it is difficult—Man is an animal very
delicately balanced. He has one prime necessity—to survive. To advance too quickly is as fatal as to
lag behind. He must survive! He must, perhaps, retain some of the old savagery, but he must not—no
definitely he must not—deify it!’
There was a pause. Then Sarah said:
‘You think old Mrs Boynton is a kind of sadist?’
‘I am almost sure of it. I think she rejoices in the infliction of pain—mental pain, mind you, not
physical. That is very much rarer and very much more difficult to deal with. She likes to have control
of other human beings and she likes to make them suffer.’
‘It’s pretty beastly,’ said Sarah.
Gerard told her of his conversation with Jefferson Cope. ‘He doesn’t realize what is going on?’
she said thoughtfully.
‘How should he? He is not a psychologist.’
‘True. He hasn’t got our disgusting minds!’
‘Exactly. He has a nice, upright, sentimental, normal American mind. He believes in good rather
than evil. He sees that the atmosphere of the Boynton family is all wrong, but he credits Mrs Boynton
with misguided devotion rather than active maleficence.’
‘That should amuse her,’ said Sarah.
‘I should imagine it does!’
Sarah said impatiently:
‘But why don’t they break away? They could.’
Gerard shook his head.
‘No, there you are wrong. They cannot. Have you ever seen the old experiment with a cock?
You chalk a line on the floor and put the cock’s beak on it. The cock believes he is tied there. He
cannot raise his head. So with these unfortunates. She has worked on them, remember, since they
were children. And her dominance has been mental. She has hypnotized them to believe that they
cannot disobey her. Oh, I know most people would say that was nonsense—but you and I know
better. She has made them believe that utter dependence on her is inevitable. They have been in
prison so long that if the prison door stands open they would no longer notice! One of them, at least,
no longer even wants to be free! And they would all be afraid of freedom.’
Sarah asked practically: ‘What will happen when she dies?’
Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
‘It depends. On how soon that happens. If it happened now—well, I think it might not be too
late. The boy and girl—they are still young—impressionable. They would become, I believe, normal
human beings. With Lennox, possibly, it has gone too far. He looks to me like a man who has parted
company with hope—he lives and endures like a brute beast.’
Sarah said impatiently: ‘His wife ought to have done something! She ought to have yanked him
out of it.’
‘I wonder. She may have tried—and failed.’
‘Do you think she’s under the spell, too?’
Gerard shook his head.
‘No. I don’t think the old lady has any power over her, and for that reason she hates her with a
bitter hatred. Watch her eyes.’
Sarah frowned. ‘I can’t make her out—the young one, I mean. Does she know what is going
on?’
‘I think she must have a pretty shrewd idea.’
‘H’m,’ said Sarah. ‘That old woman ought to be murdered! Arsenic in her early morning tea
would be my prescription.’
Then she said abruptly:
‘What about the youngest girl—the red-haired one with the rather fascinating vacant smile?’
Gerard frowned. ‘I don’t know. There is something queer there. Ginevra Boynton is the old
woman’s own daughter, of course.’
‘Yes. I suppose that would be different—or wouldn’t it?’
Gerard said slowly: ‘I do not believe that when once the mania for power (and the lust for
cruelty) has taken possession of a human being it can spare anybody—not even its nearest and
dearest.’
He was silent for a moment, then he said: ‘Are you a Christian, mademoiselle?’
Sarah said slowly: ‘I don’t know. I used to think that I wasn’t anything. But now—I’m not sure.
I feel—oh, I feel that if I could sweep all this away’—she made a violent gesture—‘all the buildings
and the sects and the fierce squabbling churches—that—that I might see Christ’s quiet figure riding
into Jerusalem on a donkey—and believe in Him.’
Dr Gerard said gravely: ‘I believe at least in one of the chief tenets of the Christian faith—
contentment with a lowly place. I am a doctor and I know that ambition—the desire to succeed—to
have power—leads to most ills of the human soul. If the desire is realized it leads to arrogance,
violence and final satiety—and if it is denied—ah! if it is denied—let all the asylums for the insane
rise up and give their testimony! They are filled with human beings who were unable to face being
mediocre, insignificant, ineffective and who therefore created for themselves ways of escape from
reality so as to be shut off from life itself for ever.’
Sarah said abruptly: ‘It’s a pity the old Boynton woman isn’t in an asylum.’
Gerard shook his head.
‘No—her place is not there among the failures. It is worse than that. She has succeeded, you
see! She has accomplished her dream.’
Sarah shuddered.
She cried passionately: ‘Such things ought not to be!’
第六章
　　第六章
　　莎拉•金站在哈拉梅西•谢里夫神庙的院子里，背对着石质圆顶。喷泉的水声在她耳边回响。一小群游客路过这里，丝毫没有破坏这和谐的东方情调。
　　真奇怪，莎拉想着，这里曾经有个吉卜赛人把这岩石的顶部当成晒谷子的地方，大卫曾经花了六百薛克尔金币来买下此地作为圣迹。而现在，这里聚着大批大批的各国游客，能听到各种语言在吵吵嚷嚷……
　　她转身看着占据了圣迹的清真寺。想着所罗门的神殿是否能赶上它的一半美丽。
　　传来一阵嘈杂的脚步声，一小群人从清真寺里走了出来。是博因顿一家，有个能说会道的向导陪着他们。博因顿老夫人由雷诺克斯和雷蒙德搀扶着。娜丁和柯普医生跟在后面。卡罗尔最后出来。他们出来的时候，走在最后面的卡罗尔看到了莎拉。
　　她犹豫了一会儿，紧接着突然做了个决定。她换了方向，无声无息地快步穿过寺庙的院子。
　　“那个……”她跑得上气不接下气。
　　“我得——我——我觉得我必须得跟你说件事。”
　　“嗯？”莎拉说。
　　卡罗尔浑身发抖，脸色惨白。“是关于——关于我哥哥。你——昨晚跟他说话的时候，你肯定觉得他很粗鲁。但他不是故意的——他——他没办法。哦，求你了，相信我。”
　　莎拉觉得这事真是可笑至极。她的骄傲和好品位都被彻底冒犯了。为什么会有个奇怪的女孩突然冲过来，为她粗野、没教养的哥哥莫名其妙地道这么滑稽的一个歉？
　　她当即就想反唇相讥——但是突然，她想起了什么。这里面有什么地方不对劲。这个女孩是非常真诚的。那些驱使莎拉致力于医生事业的悲悯在这姑娘的请求面前起了作用。
　　她的本能告诉自己，一定发生了什么非常糟糕的事情。
　　她鼓励这个姑娘：“跟我仔细说说。”
　　“他在火车上和你说过话，对吗？”卡罗尔说。
　　莎拉点点头。“嗯，确切地说，是我跟他说话来着。”
　　“哦，肯定的，肯定是那样的。但是，你看，昨晚。雷很害怕——”她的话戛然而止。
　　“害怕？”
　　卡罗尔的脸色白得更加吓人。“哦，我知道这听起来很荒谬。但是你明白吗，我们的母亲——她——她没有那么好——她也不喜欢我们跟外面的人交朋友。但是——但是我知道雷想的——他想和你交朋友。”
　　莎拉越发好奇起来。在她开口前，卡罗尔又继续说了下去：“我知道我现在说的话听起来很滑稽，但是我们真的是个很奇怪、很奇怪的家庭。”她飞快地环顾了一下四周——带着一脸恐惧，“我——我不能一直待在这儿。”她喃喃地说，“他们会发现我不见了的。”
　　莎拉下定了决心。她开口道：“为什么你不能留在这儿？如果你愿意，我们可以一起走回去啊。”
　　“哦，不行。”卡罗尔畏缩了下，“我——我不能。”
　　“为什么不能？”莎拉说。
　　“我真的不能。我妈妈，她会——”
　　莎拉镇静而清楚地说：“我知道有时候对父母来说，意识到自己的孩子已经长大是件很艰难的事情。他们总是想继续替孩子安排好一切。但是这样行不通，你明白的，不能总对父母言听计从！你必须捍卫自己的权利。”
　　卡罗尔喃喃道：“你不明白——你一点儿都不明白……”她紧张地绞着手。
　　莎拉继续说下去：“有时候我们妥协，是害怕争吵。争吵是让人很不舒服的事情。但是我想，行动的自由是值得我们为之奋斗的东西。”
　　“自由？”卡罗尔瞪着她，“我们没有人拥有过自由。我们永远都不会自由的。”
　　“胡扯！”莎拉嚷道。
　　卡罗尔将身子凑近，扶着她的胳膊。“听着。我必须得试着让你明白！在她结婚之前——实际上她是我们的继母——她是一个监狱的看守。我父亲是典狱长，他娶了她。从那之后，事情就变成这样了。她一直都是个看守监狱的人——我们就是囚犯。这就是我们过的日子——在监狱里受苦！我——我必须回去了。”
　　莎拉抓住她的胳膊。那姑娘眼看就要惊慌失措地跑开了。“等等，我们必须得再见面谈谈。”
　　“不行，我做不到。”
　　“不，你做得到的，”她用无可置疑的口吻说，“晚上睡觉的时候来我的房间。三一九。
　　别忘了，三一九号房间。”她松开了手。卡罗尔跑向她的家人。
　　莎拉站在原地，望着卡罗尔远去的背影。等她从自己的思绪里惊醒过来时，杰拉德医生正站在她身边。
　　“上午好啊，金小姐。看来，你已经和卡罗尔•博因顿小姐攀谈过了？”
　　“是的。我们的对话内容真是极其不同寻常。你听我跟你说。”
　　她把自己和那个姑娘的对话复述了一遍。
　　杰拉德注意到了一点。“那个老河马以前是个监狱的看守？或许这就可以说明很多事情了。”
　　莎拉说：“你的意思是，这能解释她为什么是个暴君？由于遗留下来的职业习惯吗？”
　　杰拉德摇摇头。“不，这其实是说反了。这应该是某种深层次的、隐藏在内心的动机。
　　她并不是因为自己是个看守而爱上了独裁。我们或许应该说，正是因为喜欢做暴君，她才会选择做监狱看守这份工作。在我看来，正是一种对于权力的秘密渴望压制了她其他的人性诉求，从而选择了这样一个职业。”
　　他的面容严峻。“无意识之中埋藏着各种奇怪的东西。比如，对权力的渴望——醉心于残酷地对待他人——想要撕裂破坏的野蛮欲望——这一切都源自我们过往的种族记忆之中……都在那里的，金小姐，那些残酷、暴虐、贪欲……我们对它们关上了门，拒绝它们进入我们的生活，但有的时候，那些欲望实在是太强太强了。”
　　莎拉颤抖起来。“我知道。”
　　杰拉德继续说道：“我们的周围也环绕着各种政治信念，以及各国采取的行动。人道主义、同情、友爱的反动都是。基于人道主义，抑或同情，抑或如同手足兄弟一般的好心。
　　有时候那些信念听起来真的是非常美好，开明的政权，造福人民的政策——但是一旦被施以强权——便成了虐待和恐怖的基地。他们打开了门，那些暴力的信徒把古老的残虐释放了出来，继而享受这残暴中的狂喜！哦，这很难的。人是一种奇妙的动物，他可以保持非常微妙的平衡。首要的目标是生存。如果进步得太过迅猛，其实和落伍一样致命。人首先得生存下去！他必须，或者说，需要维持一些古老的蛮性，但是他不能——哦，绝对不能——把它神化！”
　　两人沉默了一会儿。然后莎拉说：“你是说博因顿老夫人是个虐待狂？”
　　“我觉得肯定是这样。我想，她很享受给人带去痛苦的感觉——提醒一下，我指的是精神上的痛苦，而非肉体上的。这非常少见，也很难对付。她喜欢控制其他的人，而且酷爱让他们饱受折磨。”
　　“真是残忍至极。”莎拉说。
　　杰拉德把自己和杰弗逊•柯普的对话告诉了她。
　　“他没意识到这是什么情况吗？”她若有所思地问。
　　“怎么会？他又不是精神学家。”
　　“这倒是。他没有我们这种令人讨厌的、究根探底的恶习。”
　　“是啊。他只有一颗美国人的心，正直，善良，敏感。比起罪恶，他更相信人性本善。
　　他看得出博因顿家的氛围不正常，但是他并不觉得博因顿老夫人有错，只觉得她是好心办了坏事。”
　　“她肯定经常消遣他。”莎拉说。
　　“没错！”
　　莎拉焦躁地说：“但是他们为什么不逃走？他们分明做得到。”
　　杰拉德摇摇头。“不，这你就说错了。他们做不到。你看过那个常见的公鸡实验吗？你在地上画一条线，然后把公鸡的嘴摁在上面，它就以为自己是被绑在那里了，根本抬不起头来。这家人的不幸是一样的。她已经在他们身上下足了功夫，记得吗，那可是从小就开始的。她已经成功地催眠了他们，让他们相信永远都不可能违抗她的意志。哦，我想大多数人都会说这是胡说八道。但你我心知肚明。在她的影响之下，他们已经相信，自己永远不可能脱离她的控制。他们已经在监狱里待了这么久，即使牢门已经打开，他们也意识不到！至少他们之中有一个已经失去对自由的渴望了。他们全都害怕自由。”
　　莎拉提了个很实际的问题。“那要是她死了会怎么样呢？”
　　杰拉德耸耸肩。“这得看她什么时候死了。即使她真的死了，我想，恐怕也为时已晚。
　　那个男孩，还有那个小姑娘，还算年轻，也许还有机会——成为正常人的机会。至于雷诺克斯，很有可能真的太晚了。他在我眼里，是个毫无希望的人——他活着，忍受着，就像一头痛苦的野兽。”
　　莎拉忍不住说道：“他的妻子应该做点什么！她得设法把他救出来啊。”
　　“我想是的。她很可能已经试过——但失败了。”
　　“你觉得她也被控制了吗？”
　　杰拉德摇摇头。“不。我不认为那位老夫人有能力控制她，而正因如此，她憎恶着那位老夫人呢。看看她的双眼。”
　　莎拉皱眉。“我真搞不懂她在想什么——我是说那个年轻的夫人，她明白事情已经到了什么地步了吗？”
　　“我想她一定已经心里有所打算了。”
　　“嗯。”莎拉说。“那老夫人真该死！要是我，就直接往她的早茶里放砒霜了。”接着她突然说，“那个年轻姑娘呢？那个笑容空洞，但长相迷人的红发姑娘。”
　　杰拉德皱眉。“我不知道，这点其实非常古怪。吉内芙拉•博因顿是那个夫人的亲生女儿。”
　　“是啊，我觉得她应该会受到特殊对待——对吧？”
　　杰拉德缓缓地说：“我并不这样认为。当一个人渴望控制别人，对虐待他人上瘾的话，这一欲望已经打败了人性。我觉得它并不会选择自己摧毁的对象——即使是自己的骨肉至亲也不会放过。”
　　他沉默了片刻，接着问道：“你是基督徒吗，小姐？”
　　莎拉缓缓地说：“我不知道，我曾经以为自己什么都不信。但是现在——我不知道——我觉得——哦，如果我能够将这一切一扫而光——”她做了个烦躁的手势，“扫光所有这些教堂、这些教派，这些打来打去的教会——或许，在我看到基督骑驴进入耶路撒冷的话，我也许——会信仰他。”
　　杰拉德医生肃穆地说：“我至少相信基督教义中的其中一条——‘敝处安心’。我是个医生，我很清楚野心——渴望成功——向往权势——会让人的灵魂生出何种疾病。如果这欲望被满足了，那么得到的是残暴、傲慢和最终的永不知足；而如果这欲望得不到疏解——啊！如果这欲望得不到疏解，那么所有的精神病院都应该向公众呈出证据！精神病院里塞满了人，那些人不能忍受平凡，不能忍受毫不受人瞩目、无能为力的生活，而在疗养院里，他们便能够给自己找到一条逃离现实的路，从而永远与生活本身再不相见。”
　　莎拉突然说：“真可惜，博因顿老夫人没有被关进疗养院。”
　　杰拉德医生摇摇头。“不——她可不属于失败者之列。现状比那糟糕多了。她成功了，你明白吗？她已经完成了自己的人生愿望。”
　　莎拉打了个冷战。
　　她情绪激动地叫了出来：“我们必须设法做点什么！”
Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Sarah wondered very much whether Carol Boynton would keep her appointment that night.
On the whole she rather doubted it. She was afraid that Carol would have a sharp reaction after
her semi-confidences of the morning.
Nevertheless she made her preparations, slipping on a blue satin dressing-gown and getting out
her little spirit lamp and boiling up water.
She was just on the point of giving Carol up (it was after one o’clock) and going to bed, when
there was a tap on her door. She opened it and drew quickly back to let Carol come in.
The latter said breathlessly: ‘I was afraid you might have gone to bed…’
Sarah’s manner was carefully matter-of-fact.
‘Oh, no, I was waiting for you. Have some tea, will you? It’s real Lapsang Souchong.’
She brought over a cup. Carol had been nervous and uncertain of herself. Now she accepted the
cup and a biscuit and her manner became calmer.
‘This is rather fun,’ said Sarah, smiling.
Carol looked a little startled.
‘Yes,’ she said doubtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
‘Rather like the midnight feasts we used to have at school,’ went on Sarah. ‘I suppose you didn’t
go to school?’
Carol shook her head.
‘No, we never left home. We had a governess—different governesses. They never stayed long.’
‘Did you never go away at all?’
‘No. We’ve lived always in the same house. This coming abroad is the first time I’ve ever been
away.’
Sarah said casually: ‘It must have been a great adventure.’
‘Oh, it was. It—it’s all been like a dream.’
‘What made your—your stepmother decide to come abroad?’
At the mention of Mrs Boynton’s name, Carol had flinched. Sarah said quickly:
‘You know, I’m by way of being a doctor. I’ve just taken my M.B. Your mother—or stepmother
rather—is very interesting to me—as a case, you know. I should say she was quite definitely a
pathological case.’
Carol stared. It was clearly a very unexpected point of view to her. Sarah had spoken as she had
with deliberate intent. She realized that to her family Mrs Boynton loomed as a kind of powerful
obscene idol. It was Sarah’s object to rob her of her more terrifying aspect.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There’s a kind of disease of—of grandeur—that gets hold of people. They get
very autocratic and insist on everything being done exactly as they say and are altogether very
difficult to deal with.’
Carol put down her cup.
‘Oh,’ she cried, ‘I’m so glad to be talking to you. Really, you know, I believe Ray and I have
been getting quite—well, quite queer. We’d get terribly worked up about things.’
‘Talking with an outsider is always a good thing,’ said Sarah. ‘Inside a family one is apt to get
too intense.’ Then she asked casually: ‘If you are unhappy, haven’t you ever thought of leaving
home?’
Carol looked startled. ‘Oh, no! How could we? I—I mean Mother would never allow it.’
‘But she couldn’t stop you,’ said Sarah gently. ‘You’re over age.’
‘I’m twenty-three.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But still, I don’t see how—I mean, I wouldn’t know where to go and what to do.’
Her tone seemed bewildered.
‘You see,’ she said, ‘we haven’t got any money.’
‘Haven’t you any friends you could go to?’
‘Friends?’ Carol shook her head. ‘Oh, no, we don’t know anyone!’
‘Did none of you ever think of leaving home?’
‘No—I don’t think so. Oh—oh—we couldn’t.’
Sarah changed the subject. She found the girl’s bewilderment pitiful.
She said: ‘Are you fond of your stepmother?’
Slowly Carol shook her head. She whispered in a low scared voice: ‘I hate her. So does Ray…
We’ve—we’ve often wished she would die.’
Again Sarah changed the subject.
‘Tell me about your elder brother.’
‘Lennox? I don’t know what’s the matter with Lennox. He hardly ever speaks now. He goes
about in a kind of daydream. Nadine’s terribly worried about him.’
‘You are fond of your sister-in-law?’
‘Yes, Nadine is different. She’s always kind. But she’s very unhappy.’
‘About your brother?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have they been married long?’
‘Four years.’
‘And they’ve always lived at home?’
‘Yes.’
Sarah asked: ‘Does your sister-in-law like that?’
‘No.’
There was a pause. Then Carol said:
‘There was an awful fuss just over four years ago. You see, as I told you, none of us ever go
outside the house at home. I mean we go into the grounds, but nowhere else. But Lennox did. He got
out at night. He went into Fountain Springs—there was a sort of dance going on. Mother was
frightfully angry when she found out. It was terrible. And then, after that, she asked Nadine to come
and stay. Nadine was a very distant cousin of Father’s. She was very poor and was training to be a
hospital nurse. She came and stayed with us for a month. I can’t tell you how exciting it was to have
someone to stay! And she and Lennox fell in love with each other. And Mother said they’d better be
married quickly and live on with us.’
‘And was Nadine willing to do that?’
Carol hesitated.
‘I don’t think she wanted to do that very much, but she didn’t really mind. Then, later, she
wanted to go away—with Lennox, of course—’
‘But they didn’t go?’ asked Sarah.
‘No, Mother wouldn’t hear of it.’
Carol paused, and then said:
‘I don’t think—she likes Nadine any longer. Nadine is—funny. You never know what she’s
thinking. She tries to help Jinny and Mother doesn’t like it.’
‘Jinny is your youngest sister?’
‘Yes. Ginevra is her real name.’
‘Is she—unhappy, too?’
Carol shook her head doubtfully.
‘Jinny’s been very queer lately. I don’t understand her. You see, she’s always been rather
delicate—and—and Mother fusses about her and—and it makes her worse. And lately Jinny has been
very queer indeed. She—she frightens me sometimes. She—she doesn’t always know what she’s
doing.’
‘Has she seen a doctor?’
‘No, Nadine wanted her to, but Mother said no—and Jinny got very hysterical and screamed,
and said she wouldn’t see a doctor. But I’m worried about her.’
Suddenly Carol rose.
‘I mustn’t keep you up. It’s—it’s very good of you letting me come and talk to you. You must
think us very odd as a family.’
‘Oh, everybody’s odd, really,’ said Sarah lightly. ‘Come again, will you? And bring your
brother, if you like.’
‘May I really?’
‘Yes; we’ll do some secret plotting. I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, too, a Dr Gerard, an
awfully nice Frenchman.’
The colour came into Carol’s cheeks.
‘Oh, what fun it sounds. If only Mother doesn’t find out!’
Sarah suppressed her original retort and said instead, ‘Why should she? Good night. Shall we
say tomorrow night at the same time?’
‘Oh, yes. The day after, you see, we may be going away.’
‘Then let’s have a definite date for tomorrow. Good night.’
‘Good night—and thank you.’
Carol went out of the room and slipped noiselessly along the corridor. Her own room was on the
floor above. She reached it, opened the door—and stood appalled on the threshold. Mrs Boynton was
sitting in an armchair by the fireplace in a crimson wool dressing-gown.
A little cry escaped from Carol’s lips. ‘Oh!’
A pair of black eyes bored into hers.
‘Where have you been, Carol?’
‘I—I—’
‘Where have you been?’
A soft, husky voice with that queer menacing under-tone in it that always made Carol’s heart
beat with unreasoning terror.
‘To see a Miss King—Sarah King.’
‘The girl who spoke to Raymond the other evening?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Have you made any plans to see her again?’
Carol’s lips moved soundlessly. She nodded assent. Fright—great sickening waves of fright…
‘When?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘You are not to go. You understand?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘You promise?’
‘Yes—yes.’
Mrs Boynton struggled to get up. Mechanically Carol came forward and helped her. Mrs
Boynton walked slowly across the room, supporting herself on her stick. She paused in the doorway
and looked back at the cowering girl.
‘You are to have nothing more to do with this Miss King. You understand?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘Repeat it.’
‘I am to have nothing more to do with her.’
‘Good.’
Mrs Boynton went out and shut the door.
Stiffly, Carol moved across the bedroom. She felt sick, her whole body felt wooden and unreal.
She dropped on to the bed and suddenly she was shaken by a storm of weeping.
It was as though a vista had opened before her—a vista of sunlight and trees and flowers…
Now the black walls had closed round her once more.
第七章
第七章
那一晚，莎拉一直在想卡罗尔•博因顿是否会如约前来。总的来说，她相当怀疑。经过
上午的那一番倾吐，卡罗尔或许正处于激烈的后怕中。
不管怎么说，莎拉还是做了一番准备。她换上了一条蓝色丝质睡裙，拿出一盏小小的
酒精灯，烧了些热水。就在她等不下去，想要准备上床休息的时候（已经午夜一点了），
有人敲响了她的门。她打开门，飞快地让卡罗尔进来。
进来的人上气不接下气地说：“我怕你已经睡了……”
莎拉特意做出一副漫不经心的样子。“哦，没有，我在等你呢。要喝点茶吗？是很地道
的正山小种哦。”
她拿出一个杯子。起初，卡罗尔精神紧张，迟疑不安。她接过杯子和饼干，渐渐地冷
静了下来。
“这样很快活吧。”莎拉微笑着说道。
卡罗尔看起来小小的吃了一惊。
“是的。”她踌躇着回答，“是的，我想是的。”
“就好像我们上学那会儿，大家经常在午夜吃夜宵。”莎拉继续说下去，“我想你没有上
过学吧？”
卡罗尔摇摇头。“我们从来没有离开过家。我们有家庭教师——各种各样的家庭教师。
他们向来待不久。”
“你从来都没出过门？”
“我们一直住在那幢房子里。这次出国是我第一次离开那幢房子。”
莎拉随意问了句：“你一定觉得这次出门是场大冒险吧。”
“哦，是的。简直——简直就像是一场梦。”
“你——你继母怎么想出国旅行？”
一提到博因顿老夫人，卡罗尔就有些哆嗦。莎拉飞快地补充道：“你知道，我恰巧是个
医生，刚刚拿到学士学位。你的母亲——或者说你的继母——在我看来非常有趣。我是说
作为一个病例，你明白的。我觉得她绝对是个病理学的典型案例。”
卡罗尔目瞪口呆。显然，这个观点在她看来是前所未有的。莎拉是故意这么说的，她
意识到博因顿老夫人让整个家庭视她为某种强而有力的可怕偶像。莎拉的计划就是把她这
层可怕的外套给撕掉。
“是的，”她说，“这是一种病——非常严重的病——控制他人。这种病人非常专制，坚
持每个人都必须完全按照自己的吩咐做事。这种病非常难治。”
卡罗尔放下自己的杯子。“哦，”她嚷道，“我真高兴能和你说话。你知道的，我相信雷
和我都已经变得越来越——呃，就是很古怪。我们做起事来特别缩手缩脚。”
“和外面的人聊聊总是好的。”莎拉说，“总待在家里会让人发狂。”接着她又很随意地
问了一句，“如果你不开心，为什么不试着离开家呢？”
卡罗尔看起来吓坏了。“哦，不！我们怎么能离开呢？我——我是说，母亲不会允许
的。”
“但是她可拦不住你，”莎拉温柔地说，“你已经成人了。”
“我二十三岁了。”
“没错。”
“但是，我还是不明白——我是说，我不知道该去哪儿，做些什么。”她的语气听起来
十分不知所措。“你明白吗，”她说，“我们没有钱。”
“你没有能够投奔的朋友吗？”
“朋友？”卡罗尔摇摇头，“哦，没有朋友，我们不认识任何人！”
“你们之中就没有谁想过要离开家吗？”
“不——我想没有。哦——哦——我们做不到。”
莎拉换了个话题。她觉得这个姑娘真是可怜极了。
她说：“你喜欢你的继母吗？”
卡罗尔缓缓地摇摇头。她压低声音，惊恐地说：“我讨厌她。雷也是……我们——我们
经常希望她死掉。”
莎拉又换了个话题。“跟我讲讲你的长兄。”
“雷诺克斯？我不知道雷诺克斯怎么了。他现在几乎完全不说话，大白天里总是出神。
娜丁担心他担心得要命。”
“你喜欢你的嫂子？”
“是的。娜丁不一样。她总是很和善。但是她也很不开心。”
“因为你的长兄？”
“是的。”
“他们结婚很久了吗？”
“四年了。”
“他们一直住在家里吗？”
“是的。”
莎拉问：“你嫂子喜欢这样吗？”
“不喜欢。”卡罗尔停顿了一会儿，又接着说，“大约四年前，他们发生过很可怕的争
吵。你知道的，就像我刚刚告诉你的。我们没有人可以离开房子到外面去。我是说，我们
可以去院子里，但是不能去别的地方。可是雷诺克斯出去了。有个晚上他出去了。他去
了‘春泉’，那里在举办舞会。母亲发现这件事情后，大发雷霆。太可怕了。自那之后，她
就请娜丁到家里来住。娜丁是父亲的一个远房亲戚，非常远。她很穷，正在受训成为一名
护士。她来到家里，和我们住了一个月。我简直没法告诉你家里有外来的人是件多么让人
高兴的事情！接着她和雷诺克斯陷入热恋。母亲说他们最好快点结婚，然后和我们住在一
起。”
“娜丁也想这样吗？”
卡罗尔犹豫。“我不知道她想不想，但是她看起来并不介意。后来，她想搬出去——和
雷诺克斯一起。当然——”
“但是他们没有搬出去？”莎拉问。
“没有。母亲连听都不想听。”卡罗尔顿了一下，接着说道，“我认为她不再喜欢娜丁
了。娜丁很有趣。你从来都猜不到她在想什么。她想帮助金妮，但是母亲不喜欢她这么
做。”
“金妮是你最小的妹妹？”
“是的。她的大名是吉内芙拉。”
“她——也不开心吗？”
卡罗尔忧心忡忡地摇摇头。“金妮最近特别奇怪。我搞不懂她。你看，她向来非常脆弱
——而且——而且，母亲总是对她唠唠叨叨——这让她的情况更糟了。最近金妮真的特别
特别奇怪。有时，她都吓着我了。她——她经常都不知道自己在做什么。”
“她去看过医生吗？”
“没有。娜丁想让她去，但是母亲不允许。金妮也会歇斯底里地尖叫，说她不要看医
生。但我真的很担心她。”突然卡罗尔站了起来，“我不能一直不让你睡觉。你——你真是
个好心人，让我来这里和你聊天。你一定觉得我们是非常古怪的一家人。”
“哦，说真的，人人都有古怪的一面。”莎拉轻巧地说，“请再来看我，好吗？带你哥哥
一起来吧，如果你不介意的话。”
“真的可以吗？”
“当然。我们可以偷偷计划点什么。我还想让你们见见我的一个朋友：杰拉德医生，一
位非常和善的法国人。”
卡罗尔的双颊染上绯红。“哦，这听起来太有趣了！只要我母亲没发现就好！”
莎拉努力压制住想要反驳她的念头，反而安慰道：“她怎么可能发现呢？晚安？明晚我
们还能见面吧？”
“哦，是的。你看，我们或许后天就走了。”
“那我们明天一定要见个面啊。晚安。”
“晚安，谢谢你。”
卡罗尔走出房间，悄无声息地沿着走廊走着。她的房间在楼上。她走到房门前，打开
门——惊慌失措地站在门口。
博因顿老夫人正坐在火炉旁的椅子里，套着深红色的毛呢睡衣。卡罗尔不禁轻喊了一
声。“呀！”
一双黑色的眼睛盯着她。“你去哪里了，卡罗尔？”
“我……我……”
“你去哪里了？”那轻柔粗糙的声音里潜伏着古怪的威胁意味，总是能让卡罗尔因莫名
的恐惧而心脏狂跳。
“去见金小姐——莎拉•金。”
“就是那晚和雷蒙德说话的女孩？”
“是的，母亲。”
“你还打算再去见她吗？”
卡罗尔的嘴唇无声无息地动了动。她点点头，恐惧——阵阵骇人的恐惧笼罩过来……
“什么时候？”
“明天。”
“你不会去见她的。明白吗？”
“是的，母亲。”
“你发誓？”
“好——我发誓。”
博因顿老夫人挣扎着站起来。卡罗尔机械地上前扶住她。老夫人缓缓地走过房间，拄
着拐杖。她在门口站住，回头看着被吓坏了的女孩。
“你以后不准和那个金小姐再来往。明白吗？”
“明白了，母亲。”
“完整地说一遍。”
“我不会再和她有任何来往。”
“很好。”
博因顿老夫人走了出去，关上了房门。
卡罗尔穿过卧室，感觉浑身僵硬。她觉得恶心，整个身体木然而不真实。她跌坐在床
上，突然颤抖着啜泣起来。就在刚才，她以为面前豁然打开了一条路——一条充满阳光，
开满鲜花、种满绿树的大道……而现在，漆黑的墙壁再次缓缓合上围住了自己……
Chapter 8
Chapter 8
‘Can I speak to you a minute?’
Nadine Boynton turned in surprise, staring into the dark eager face of an entirely unknown
young woman.
‘Why, certainly.’
But as she spoke, almost unconsciously she threw a quick nervous glance over her shoulder.
‘My name is Sarah King,’ went on the other.
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Mrs Boynton, I’m going to say something rather odd to you. I talked to your sister-in-law for
quite a long time the other evening.’
A faint shadow seemed to ruffle the serenity of Nadine Boynton’s face.
‘You talked to Ginevra?’
‘No, not to Ginevra—to Carol.’
The shadow lifted.
‘Oh, I see—to Carol.’
Nadine Boynton seemed pleased, but very much surprised. ‘How did you manage that?’
Sarah said: ‘She came to my room—quite late.’
She saw the faint raising of the pencilled brows on the white forehead. She said with some
embarrassment: ‘I’m sure this must seem very odd to you.’
‘No,’ said Nadine Boynton. ‘I am very glad. Very glad indeed. It is very nice for Carol to have a
friend to talk to.’
‘We—we got on very well together.’ Sarah tried to choose her words carefully. ‘In fact we
arranged to—to meet again the following night.’
‘Yes.’
‘But Carol didn’t come.’
‘Didn’t she?’
Nadine’s voice was cool—reflective. Her face, so quiet and gentle, told Sarah nothing.
‘No. Yesterday she was passing through the hall. I spoke to her and she didn’t answer. Just
looked at me once, and then away again, and hurried on.’
‘I see.’
There was a pause. Sarah found it difficult to go on. Nadine Boynton said presently: ‘I’m—very
sorry. Carol is—rather a nervous girl.’
Again that pause. Sarah took her courage in both hands. ‘You know, Mrs Boynton, I’m by way
of being a doctor. I think—I think it would be good for your sister-in-law not to—not to shut herself
away too much from people.’
Nadine Boynton looked thoughtfully at Sarah.
She said: ‘I see. You’re a doctor. That makes a difference.’
‘You see what I mean?’ Sarah urged.
Nadine bent her head. She was still thoughtful.
‘You are quite right, of course,’ she said after a minute or two. ‘But there are difficulties. My
mother-in-law is in bad health and she has what I can only describe as a morbid dislike of any
outsiders penetrating into her family circle.’
Sarah said mutinously: ‘But Carol is a grown-up woman.’
Nadine Boynton shook her head.
‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘In body, but not in mind. If you talked to her you must have noticed that. In
an emergency she would always behave like a frightened child.’
‘Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think she became—afraid?’
‘I should imagine, Miss King, that my mother-in-law insisted on Carol having nothing more to
do with you.’
‘And Carol gave in?’
Nadine Boynton said quietly: ‘Can you really imagine her doing anything else?’
The eyes of the two women met. Sarah felt that behind the mask of conventional words they
understood each other. Nadine, she felt, understood the position. But she was clearly not prepared to
discuss it in any way.
Sarah felt discouraged. The other evening it had seemed to her as though half the battle were
won. By means of secret meetings she would imbue Carol with the spirit of revolt — yes, and
Raymond, too. (Be honest now, wasn’t it Raymond really she had had in mind all along?) And now,
in the very first round of the battle she had been ignominiously defeated by that hulk of shapeless
flesh with her evil, gloating eyes. Carol had capitulated without a struggle.
‘It’s all wrong!’ cried Sarah.
Nadine did not answer. Something in her silence went home to Sarah like a cold hand laid on
her heart. She thought: ‘This woman knows the hopelessness of it much better than I do. She’s lived
with it!’
The lift gates opened. The older Mrs Boynton emerged. She leaned on a stick and Raymond
supported her on the other side.
Sarah gave a slight start. She saw the old woman’s eyes sweep from her to Nadine and back
again. She had been prepared for dislike in those eyes—for hatred even. She was not prepared for
what she saw—a triumphant and malicious enjoyment. Sarah turned away. Nadine went forward and
joined the other two.
‘So there you are, Nadine,’ said Mrs Boynton. ‘I’ll sit down and rest a little before I go out.’
They settled her in a high-backed chair. Nadine sat down beside her.
‘Who were you talking to, Nadine?’
‘A Miss King.’
‘Oh, yes. The girl who spoke to Raymond the other night. Well, Ray, why don’t you go and
speak to her now? She’s over there at the writing-table.’
The old woman’s mouth widened into a malicious smile as she looked at Raymond. His face
flushed. He turned his head away and muttered something.
‘What’s that you say, son?’
‘I don’t want to speak to her.’
‘No, I thought not. You won’t speak to her. You couldn’t however much you wanted to!’
She coughed suddenly—a wheezing cough.
‘I’m enjoying this trip, Nadine,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.’
‘No?’
Nadine’s voice was expressionless.
‘Ray.’
‘Yes, Mother?’
‘Get me a piece of notepaper—from the table over there in the corner.’
Raymond went off obediently. Nadine raised her head. She watched, not the boy, but the old
woman. Mrs Boynton was leaning forward, her nostrils dilated as though with pleasure. Ray passed
close by Sarah. She looked up, a sudden hope showing in her face. It died down as he brushed past
her, took some notepaper from the case and went back across the room.
There were little beads of sweat on his forehead as he rejoined them, and his face was dead
white.
Very softly Mrs Boynton murmured: ‘Ah…’ as she watched his face.
Then she saw Nadine’s eyes fixed on her. Something in them made her own snap with sudden
anger.
‘Where’s Mr Cope this morning?’ she said.
Nadine’s eyes dropped again. She answered in her gentle, expressionless voice:
‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.’
‘I like him,’ said Mrs Boynton. ‘I like him very much. We must see a good deal of him. You’ll
like that, won’t you?’
‘Yes,’ said Nadine. ‘I, too, like him very much.’
‘What’s the matter with Lennox lately? He seems very dull and quiet. Nothing wrong between
you, is there?’
‘Oh, no. Why should there be?’
‘I wondered. Married people don’t always hit it off. Perhaps you’d be happier living in a home
of your own?’
Nadine did not answer.
‘Well, what do you say to the idea? Does it appeal to you?’
Nadine shook her head. She said, smiling: ‘I don’t think it would appeal to you, Mother.’
Mrs Boynton’s eyelids flickered. She said sharply and venomously, ‘You’ve always been
against me, Nadine.’
The younger woman replied evenly:
‘I’m sorry you should think that.’
The old woman’s hand closed on her stick. Her face seemed to get a shade more purple.
She said, with a change of tone: ‘I forgot my drops. Get them for me, Nadine.’
‘Certainly.’
Nadine got up and crossed the lounge to the lift. Mrs Boynton looked after her. Raymond sat
limply in a chair, his eyes glazed with dull misery.
Nadine went upstairs and along the corridor. She entered the sitting-room of their suite. Lennox
was sitting by the window. There was a book in his hand, but he was not reading. He roused himself
as Nadine came in. ‘Hallo, Nadine.’
‘I’ve come up for Mother’s drops. She forgot them.’
She went on into Mrs Boynton’s bedroom. From a bottle on the washstand she carefully
measured a dose into a small medicine glass, filling it up with water. As she passed through the
sitting-room again she paused.
‘Lennox.’
It was a moment or two before he answered her. It was as though the message had a long way to
travel.
Then he said: ‘I beg your pardon. What is it?’
Nadine Boynton set down the glass carefully on the table. Then she went over and stood beside
him.
‘Lennox, look at the sunshine—out there, through the window. Look at life. It’s beautiful. We
might be out in it—instead of being here looking through a window.’
Again there was a pause. Then he said: ‘I’m sorry. Do you want to go out?’
She answered him quickly: ‘Yes, I want to go out—with you—out into the sunshine—out into
life—and live—the two of us together.’
He shrank back into his chair. His eyes looked restless, hunted.
‘Nadine, my dear—must we go into all this again?’
‘Yes, we must. Let us go away and lead our own life somewhere.’
‘How can we? We’ve no money.’
‘We can earn money.’
‘How could we? What could we do? I’m untrained. Thousands of men—qualified men—trained
men—are out of a job as it is. We couldn’t manage it.’
‘I would earn money for both of us.’
‘My dear child, you’d never even completed your training. It’s hopeless—impossible.’
‘No, what is hopeless and impossible is our present life.’
‘You don’t know what you are talking about. Mother is very good to us. She gives us every
luxury.’
‘Except freedom. Lennox, make an effort. Come with me now—today—’
‘Nadine, I think you’re quite mad.’
‘No, I’m sane. Absolutely and completely sane. I want a life of my own, with you, in the
sunshine—not stifled in the shadow of an old woman who is a tyrant and who delights in making you
unhappy.’
‘Mother may be rather an autocrat—’
‘Your mother is mad! She’s insane!’
He answered mildly: ‘That’s not true. She’s got a remarkably good head for business.’
‘Perhaps—yes.’
‘And you must realize, Nadine, she can’t live for ever. She’s getting old and she’s in very bad
health. At her death my father’s money is divided equally among us share and share alike. You
remember, she read us the will?’
‘When she dies,’ said Nadine, ‘it may be too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘Too late for happiness.’
Lennox murmured: ‘Too late for happiness.’ He shivered suddenly. Nadine went closer to him.
She put her hand on his shoulder.
‘Lennox, I love you. It’s a battle between me and your mother. Are you going to be on her side
or mine?’
‘On yours—on yours!’
‘Then do what I ask.’
‘It’s impossible!’
‘No, it’s not impossible. Think, Lennox, we could have children…’
‘Mother wants us to have children. She has said so.’
‘I know, but I won’t bring children into the world to live in the shadow you have all been
brought up in. Your mother can influence you, but she’s no power over me.’
Lennox murmured: ‘You make her angry sometimes, Nadine; it isn’t wise.’
‘She is only angry because she knows that she can’t influence my mind or dictate my thoughts!’
‘I know you are always polite and gentle with her. You’re wonderful. You’re too good for me.
You always have been. When you said you would marry me it was like an unbelievable dream.’
Nadine said quietly: ‘I was wrong to marry you.’
Lennox said hopelessly: ‘Yes, you were wrong.’
‘You don’t understand. What I mean is that if I had gone away then and asked you to follow me
you would have done so. Yes, I really believe you would… I was not clever enough then to
understand your mother and what she wanted.’
She paused, then she said: ‘You refuse to come away? Well, I can’t make you. But I am free to
go! I think—I think I shall go…’
He stared up at her incredulously. For the first time his reply came quickly, as though at last the
sluggish current of his thoughts was accelerated. He stammered: ‘But—but—you can’t do that.
Mother—Mother would never hear of it.’
‘She couldn’t stop me.’
‘You’ve no money.’
‘I could make, borrow, beg or steal it. Understand, Lennox, your mother has no power over me!
I can go or stay at my will. I am beginning to feel that I have borne this life long enough.’
‘Nadine—don’t leave me—don’t leave me…’
She looked at him thoughtfully—quietly—with an inscrutable expression.
‘Don’t leave me, Nadine.’
He spoke like a child. She turned her head away, so that he should not see the sudden pain in her
eyes.
She knelt down beside him.
‘Then come with me. Come with me! You can. Indeed you can if you only will!’
He shrank back from her.
‘I can’t. I can’t, I tell you. I haven’t—God help me—I haven’t the courage…’
第八章
　　第八章
　　“我可以和你说一会儿话吗？”
　　娜丁•博因顿惊讶地转过身来，看到眼前站着一位自己完全不认识的年轻女人，一脸恳切。
　　“哦，当然可以。”她虽然这样说着，但又极不自觉地朝对方身后扫了一眼。
　　“我是莎拉•金。”对方继续说道。
　　“哦，是吗？”
　　“博因顿夫人，我可能会对你说些听起来非常奇怪的事情。前几天的一个晚上，我和你的小姑子谈了很长一段时间。”
　　娜丁•博因顿原本沉静的脸上似乎突然笼上了一层阴影。“你和吉内芙拉聊过？”
　　“不，不是吉内芙拉——是卡罗尔。”
　　那阴影退去了。
　　“哦，我明白了。是和卡罗尔。”
　　娜丁•博因顿看起来很高兴，但又非常吃惊。
　　“你是怎么做到的？”
　　莎拉说：“她来我房间找我——很晚的时候。”她看见对方苍白的额头上铅黑的眉毛微微扬起。莎拉有点尴尬地解释说，“你大概觉得这听起来很奇怪。”
　　“不，”娜丁•博因顿说，“我很高兴。确实很高兴。卡罗尔能有朋友聊天，这实在太好了。”
　　“我们……我们聊得很愉快。”莎拉仔细斟酌着措辞，“实际上，我们还约好再见面，就在次日晚上。”
　　“然后？”
　　“但是卡罗尔没有来。”
　　“她没去，是吗？”
　　娜丁的声音很冷——仿佛陷入了沉思。她的脸上平静无波，莎拉看不出她在想什么。
　　“没有。昨天她穿过大厅的时候，我还和她搭话，但是她不理我。只是看了我一眼，又飞快地挪开视线，然后跑开了。”
　　“原来如此。”
　　两人沉默了一会儿。莎拉发现这番对话实在很难继续下去。
　　娜丁•博因顿突然说：“我——我很抱歉。卡罗尔——她很害羞。”
　　接着，两人又陷入沉默。莎拉握紧手，鼓起勇气。“你知道，博因顿夫人，我刚好还是个医生。我觉得——我觉得，卡罗尔这样把自己跟别人隔绝开来，躲得远远的，对她并不好。”
　　娜丁•博因顿若有所思地看着莎拉。她说：“我明白了，你是个医生。那的确就不一样了。”
　　“你明白我的意思了？”莎拉急急地说。
　　娜丁点点头，仍然在思考着什么。“你说得很对，当然了。”过了一两分钟后她说，“但是事情并不简单。我婆婆身体不好，而她……我只能说她有些病态的偏执，她不喜欢外人过分插手她的家族事务。”
　　莎拉反驳：“但是卡罗尔已经长大了。”
　　娜丁•博因顿摇摇头。“不，”她说，“在生理上她的确是长大了，但在心理上远远没有。
　　你和她聊过天，肯定看得出来。一旦遇到紧急情况，她简直就像是个被吓坏了的孩子。”
　　“你是说之前发生过什么？你觉得有什么事情让她——害怕的吗？”
　　“我只能靠猜测，金小姐，我婆婆肯定不许卡罗尔再和你来往。”
　　“卡罗尔自己也就同意了？”
　　娜丁•博因顿安静地说：“你觉得她还能有别的选择吗？”
　　两人视线相遇。莎拉感觉到，在这看似平常的对话之下，两人已经很明白彼此在说些什么。她觉得娜丁很清楚眼下的处境。但是她显然也不打算再继续讨论下去。莎拉觉得备受挫败。对她来说，那一晚就像是战争已经打赢了一般。她想通过偷偷见面的方式来鼓舞起卡罗尔的反叛精神——当然还有雷蒙德的。（说真的，雷蒙德其实一直都在她脑子里盘桓不去。）
　　而现在，就在这战争刚刚开场的第一回合，她就已经被那个皮肉松弛、眼睛闪烁着邪恶之光的老夫人打败了。卡罗尔根本没有抵抗就被掳走了。
　　“简直大错特错！”莎拉喊了出来。
　　娜丁没有回答。她的沉默让莎拉幡然醒悟，就如同一双冰冷的手压在了莎拉的心口。
　　她想着：“这个女人知道眼下的情景是多么让人绝望。她知道得比我还清楚。因为她就生活在其中啊！”
　　电梯门打开了。博因顿老夫人走了出来。她拄着根拐杖，雷蒙德在另一侧搀扶着她。
　　莎拉沉默着看向那里。她看着老夫人的视线从自己身上又到娜丁身上，来回往复。莎拉原本就已经有了心理准备，迎接那投来的眼神里几乎毫不遮掩的厌恶，甚至说得上是憎恶。
　　但她并没有做好对眼下情景的心理准备——直面战胜者的炫耀和充满敌意的欣喜。
　　莎拉转身离开。娜丁则往前走，加入了那两人的行列。
　　“原来你在这里啊，娜丁，”博因顿夫人说，“我要坐下歇一歇，再启程出发。”
　　他们把老夫人安置在一把高背椅子里。娜丁在她身边坐下。
　　“你刚刚是在和谁说话，娜丁？”
　　“金小姐。”
　　“哦，是她啊，那个女孩之前跟雷蒙德说过话。雷，你为什么不过去跟她聊聊天呢？她就在那边的桌子边上呢。”
　　老夫人回身看雷蒙德，咧着嘴，露出一副邪恶的微笑。雷蒙德的脸红了。他转开头，低声嘟囔着什么。
　　“你说什么呢，孩子。”
　　“我不想和她说话。”
　　“那当然，我想也是。你不能和她说话。你不能，不管你有多想！”
　　她突然剧烈咳嗽起来——几乎喘不上气。“我还挺享受这次旅行的，娜丁。”过了一会儿，她说，“不管发生什么事，我可不能错过这难得的乐趣。”
　　“是的。”娜丁的声音干巴巴的。
　　“雷？”
　　“是的，妈妈。”
　　“去给我拿张便条纸——就在那边角落的桌子上。”
　　雷蒙德依言起身去拿。娜丁抬起头，她看着的不是那个男孩，而是老夫人。博因顿老夫人身子正往前倾着，鼻孔因为兴奋而大张着。雷离莎拉越来越近。莎拉抬起头，脸上浮现出满怀希望的神情。但接着，雷与她擦肩而过，希望的神情陡然消失。雷蒙德从桌上拿了便条纸，又转身朝屋子这边走来。
　　等雷蒙德回来，他的脸上渗出了汗珠，面色苍白得如同死人。博因顿老夫人非常轻柔地低语道：“啊……”她看着他的脸。接着她看到娜丁正望着自己，眼中隐含怒意。
　　“今天早上，柯普先生去哪儿了？”老夫人问。
　　娜丁的眼神再次垂落。她用平静、丝毫不带感情的声音回答道：“不知道，我没有看见他。”
　　“我喜欢他，”博因顿夫人说，“非常喜欢。我们可以多跟他见见面。你也喜欢见到他，对吧？”
　　“没错，”娜丁说，“我也很喜欢他。”
　　“雷诺克斯最近是怎么回事？他看起来郁郁寡欢，一言不发。你们之间没出什么事儿吧？”
　　“哦，当然没有。怎么可能有事呢？”
　　“想来奇怪，有些夫妻就是脾气不相投。或许搬出去单独生活，你还能过得开心点儿？”
　　娜丁没有回答。
　　“快说说，你觉得这个主意怎么样？对你没什么吸引力吗？”
　　娜丁摇摇头，微笑着说：“我觉得这对你来说没什么吸引力，妈妈。”
　　博因顿老夫人的眼睛闪了闪。她声音尖锐，眼神恶毒无比。“你总是跟我作对，娜丁。”
　　年轻女人平静地回答：“我很遗憾您会这么想。”
　　老夫人的手抓紧了拐杖。她的脸似乎要变成绛紫色了。她话音一转，“我忘记拿药了。
　　娜丁，你去帮我拿来。”
　　“好的。”
　　娜丁站起来，穿过大厅，走到电梯。博因顿老夫人在后面看着她。雷蒙德四肢无力地坐在椅子里，眼里满是木然的悲哀。娜丁上了楼，穿过走廊。她走进了他们套间的客厅。
　　雷诺克斯正坐在窗边。手里捧着一本书。但他并没有在看书。看到娜丁走进来，他站起了身。“嗨，娜丁。”
　　“我上来给妈妈拿药。她忘带了。”她继续走着，走进了博因顿老夫人的卧室。从洗漱台下面的瓶子里，她取了一顿的量放进小茶杯，然后往里倒满了水。等她再度经过客厅的时候，她停下脚步。“雷诺克斯。”
　　过了一会儿，他才应声。就好像这句话从很远的地方传来，走了很久才到他那里。然后他说：“抱歉我没听清。你说什么？”
　　娜丁小心地把杯子放到桌子上。接着，她走过去，站到了雷诺克斯身边。“雷诺克斯。
　　看看外面的阳光。看看窗外。看看生活。生活很美很美。我们或许应该出去，而不是站在这里，透过窗户向外望。”
　　接着又是一阵沉默。过了一会儿，他说：“我很抱歉。你想出去吗？”
　　她答得飞快。“是的，我想出去。和你一起——走到阳光下面！走到生活里——真正的、活生生的生活——我们俩一起。”
　　他缩进椅子里。眼睛不知该看向哪里，就如同被追上的猎物一般心神不宁。“娜丁，我亲爱的娜丁，我们真的必须再这么谈一次吗——”
　　“是的，我们必须走出去。在别的地方过上完全属于我们自己的生活吧。”
　　“怎么可能？我们没有钱。”
　　“我们可以赚钱。”
　　“我们怎么能赚到钱？怎么可能做得到？我什么都不会。成千上万的人——而且是有能力的、受过训练的人——眼下都没有工作。我们能做什么？”
　　“我可以赚钱养活我们俩。”
　　“我亲爱的孩子，你甚至都没能完成自己的学业。这没戏——根本不可能。”
　　“不。真正毫无希望、没有可能的是我们现在的生活。”
　　“你不知道自己在说什么。母亲对我们非常好。她让我们过上了养尊处优的生活。”
　　“除了自由。雷诺克斯。试一把吧。和我一起，就今天——”
　　“娜丁，我想你真是疯了。”
　　“不，我清醒得很。绝对、完全的清醒。我想拥有自己的生活，和你一起，在阳光下，而不是被禁锢在一个老太太的阴影里，一个暴君，一个以你的不幸来构建自己好心情的暴君。”
　　“母亲或许是有点过于——”
　　“你妈妈是个疯子！她疯了！”
　　他温和地回答：“这话可不对。她非常有经营头脑。”
　　“或许——是的。”
　　“而且你明白的，娜丁，她活不久了。她已经六十多岁了，身体又那么差。她死后，我父亲的钱就可以分给我们了，平均分配的。你记得吧，她曾经给我们读过遗嘱。”
　　“等她死了，”娜丁说，“或许已经太晚了。”
　　“太晚了？”
　　“对于幸福来说，太晚了。”
　　雷诺克斯喃喃地说：“对于幸福来说太晚了。”他突然发起抖来，娜丁紧紧靠着他。她的手放在他肩头。
　　“雷诺克斯，我爱你。这是一场我和你母亲之间的战争。你要站在哪一边？她，还是我？”
　　“你这边，你这边啊！”
　　“那就照我说的做。”
　　“那不可能啊！”
　　“不，并非不可能。想一想，雷诺克斯，我们可以有自己的孩子。”
　　“妈妈想让我们有孩子的，不是吗。她亲口说的。”
　　“我知道，但是我不会让我的孩子在你成长的阴影中成长。你的母亲可以影响你，但是她不能影响我。”
　　雷诺克斯喃喃道：“你有时让她非常生气，娜丁。这不明智。”
　　“她生气只是因为她知道自己左右不了我的思想，抑或支配我的想法！”
　　“我知道你已经对她非常礼貌、非常温和了。你的一切都那么美好。对我来说，你简直美好得过分。你说愿意嫁给我的时候，那就像是一场无法想象的美梦成真。”
　　娜丁平静地说：“嫁给你是我犯的一个错。”
　　雷诺克斯无望地说：“是的，你错了。”
　　“你没明白我的意思。我是说，如果那个时候，我离开你家，并要你跟我走，你会那么做的。是的，我相信你会的——只是当时我还不够聪明，没有明白你母亲是个什么样的人，以及她要的是什么。”
　　她顿了顿，又接着说下去。“你不愿意和我一起走吗？好吧。我不能强迫你。但是我有离开的自由！——我想我该走了……”
　　他难以置信地瞪着她。第一次，他回答得这么快，就好像到了最后，他那迟缓的思绪终于加了速。他结结巴巴地说：“但是——但是——你不能这样做。母亲——母亲不会想听到这个的。”
　　“她可没办法阻止我。”
　　“你没有钱。”
　　“我可以赚钱，借钱，乞讨，甚至偷窃。你明白吗，雷诺克斯，你母亲对我毫无掌控的力量！我可以留，也可以走，全凭我自己的意愿。我开始觉得，自己已经忍受这样的生活太久太久了。”
　　“娜丁——不要离开我——不要离开我……”
　　她看着他，若有所思。非常平静，表情难以揣测。
　　“不要离开我，娜丁。”他像个孩子一样乞求着。她扭开头，这样，他便不会看到她眼里突然涌现的痛苦。
　　她在他身前跪下。“那就和我一起走。和我一起！你可以做到的！只要你想，就可以做到！”
　　他从她身前退缩回去。“我做不到！我做不到！我告诉过你的。我不行——求上帝怜悯——我没有那个勇气……”
Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Dr Gerard walked into the office of Messrs Castle, the tourist agents, and found Sarah King at the
counter.
She looked up.
‘Oh, good morning. I’m fixing up my tour to Petra. I’ve just heard you are going after all.’
‘Yes, I find I can just manage it.’
‘How nice.’
‘Shall we be a large party, I wonder?’
‘They say just two other women—and you and me. One car load.’
‘That will be delightful,’ said Gerard, with a little bow. Then he, in turn, attended to his
business.
Presently, holding his mail in his hands, he joined Sarah as she stepped out of the office. It was a
crisp, sunny day, with a slight cold tang in the air.
‘What news of our friends, the Boyntons?’ asked Dr Gerard. ‘I have been to Bethlehem and
Nazareth and other places—a tour of three days.’
Slowly and rather unwillingly, Sarah narrated her abortive efforts to establish contact.
‘Anyhow, I failed,’ she finished. ‘And they’re leaving today.’
‘Where are they going?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
She went on vexedly: ‘I feel, you know, that I’ve made rather a fool of myself!’
‘In what way?’
‘Interfering in other people’s business.’
Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
‘That is a matter of opinion.’
‘You mean whether one should interfere or not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you?’
The Frenchman looked amused.
‘You mean, is it my habit to concern myself with other people’s affairs? I will say to you
frankly: No.’
‘Then you think I’m wrong to have tried butting in?’
‘No, no, you misunderstand me.’ Gerard spoke quickly and energetically. ‘It is, I think, a moot
question. Should one, if one sees a wrong being done, attempt to put it right? One’s interference may
do good—but it may do incalculable harm! It is impossible to lay down any ruling on the subject.
Some people have a genius for interference—they do it well! Some people do it clumsily and had
therefore better leave it alone! Then there is, too, the question of age. Young people have the courage
of their ideals and convictions—their values are more theoretical than practical. They have not
experienced, as yet, that fact contradicts theory! If you have a belief in yourself and in the rightness
of what you are doing, you can often accomplish things that are well worth while! (Incidentally, you
often do a good deal of harm!) On the other hand, the middle-aged person has experience—he has
found that harm as well as, and perhaps more often than, good comes of trying to interfere and so—
very wisely, he refrains! So the result is even—the earnest young do both harm and good—the
prudent middle-aged do neither!’
‘All that isn’t very helpful,’ objected Sarah.
‘Can one person ever be helpful to another? It is your problem, not mine.’
‘You mean you are not going to do anything about the Boyntons?’
‘No. For me, there would be no chance of success.’
‘Then there isn’t for me, either?’
‘For you, there might be.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you have special qualifications. The appeal of your youth and sex.’
‘Sex? Oh, I see.’
‘One comes always back to sex, does one not? You have failed with the girl. It does not follow
that you would fail with her brother. What you have just told me (what the girl Carol told you) shows
very clearly the one menace to Mrs Boynton’s autocracy. The eldest son, Lennox, defied her in the
force of his young manhood. He played truant from home, went to local dances. The desire of a man
for a mate was stronger than the hypnotic spell. But the old woman was quite aware of the power of
sex. (She will have seen something of it in her career.) She dealt with it very cleverly—brought a
pretty but penniless girl into the house—encouraged a marriage. And so acquired yet another slave.’
Sarah shook her head.
‘I don’t think young Mrs Boynton is a slave.’
Gerard agreed.
‘No, perhaps not. I think that, because she was a quiet, docile young girl, old Mrs Boynton
underestimated her force of will and character. Nadine Boynton was too young and inexperienced at
the time to appreciate the true position. She appreciates it now, but it is too late.’
‘Do you think she has given up hope?’
Dr Gerard shook his head doubtfully.
‘If she has plans no one would know about them. There are, you know, certain possibilities
where Cope is concerned. Man is a naturally jealous animal—and jealousy is a strong force. Lennox
Boynton might still be roused from the inertia in which he is sinking.’
‘And you think’—Sarah purposely made her tone very business-like and professional—‘that
there’s a chance I might be able to do something about Raymond?’
‘I do.’
Sarah sighed.
‘I suppose I might have tried. Oh, well, it’s too late now, anyway. And—and I don’t like the
idea.’
Gerard looked amused.
‘That is because you are English! The English have a complex about sex. They think it is “not
quite nice”.’
Sarah’s indignant response failed to move him.
‘Yes, yes; I know you are very modern—that you use freely in public the most unpleasant words
you can find in the dictionary—that you are professional and entirely uninhibited! Tout de même, I
repeat, you have the same facial characteristics as your mother and your grandmother. You are still
the blushing English Miss although you do not blush!’
‘I never heard such rubbish!’
Dr Gerard, a twinkle in his eye, and quite unperturbed, added: ‘And it makes you very
charming.’
This time Sarah was speechless.
Dr Gerard hastily raised his hat. ‘I take my leave,’ he said, ‘before you have time to begin to say
all that you think.’ He escaped into the hotel.
Sarah followed him more slowly.
There was a good deal of activity going on. Several cars loaded with luggage were in the
process of departing. Lennox and Nadine Boynton and Mr Cope were standing by a big saloon car
superintending arrangements. A fat dragoman was standing talking to Carol with quite unintelligible
fluency.
Sarah passed them and went into the hotel.
Mrs Boynton, wrapped in a thick coat, was sitting in a chair, waiting to depart. Looking at her, a
queer revulsion of feeling swept over Sarah. She had felt that Mrs Boynton was a sinister figure, an
incarnation of evil malignancy.
Now, suddenly, she saw the old woman as a pathetic ineffectual figure. To be born with such a
lust for power, such a desire for dominion—and to achieve only a petty domestic tyranny! If only her
children could see her as Sarah saw her that minute—an object of pity—a stupid, malignant, pathetic,
posturing old woman. On an impulse Sarah went up to her.
‘Goodbye, Mrs Boynton,’ she said. ‘I hope you’ll have a nice trip.’
The old lady looked at her. Malignancy struggled with outrage in those eyes.
‘You’ve wanted to be very rude to me,’ said Sarah.
(Was she crazy, she wondered, what on earth was urging her on to talk like this?)
‘You’ve tried to prevent your son and daughter making friends with me. Don’t you think, really,
that that is all very silly and childish? You like to make yourself out a kind of ogre, but really, you
know, you’re just pathetic and rather ludicrous. If I were you I’d give up all this silly play-acting. I
expect you’ll hate me for saying this, but I mean it—and some of it may stick. You know you could
have a lot of fun still. It’s really much better to be—friendly—and kind. You could be if you tried.’
There was a pause.
Mrs Boynton had frozen into a deadly immobility. At last she passed her tongue over her dry
lips, her mouth opened…Still for a moment, no words came.
‘Go on,’ said Sarah encouragingly. ‘Say it! It doesn’t matter what you say to me. But think over
what I’ve said to you.’
The words came at last—in a soft, husky, but penetrating voice. Mrs Boynton’s basilisk eyes
looked, not at Sarah, but oddly over her shoulder. She seemed to address, not Sarah, but some
familiar spirit.
‘I never forget,’ she said. ‘Remember that. I’ve never forgotten anything—not an action, not a
name, not a face…’
There was nothing in the words themselves, but the venom with which they were spoken made
Sarah retreat a step. And then Mrs Boynton laughed—it was, definitely, rather a horrible laugh.
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘You poor old thing,’ she said.
She turned away. As she went towards the lift she almost collided with Raymond Boynton. On
an impulse she spoke quickly.
‘Goodbye. I hope you’ll have a lovely time. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.’ She smiled at
him, a warm, friendly smile, and passed quickly on.
Raymond stood as though turned to stone. So lost in his own thoughts was he that a small man
with big moustaches, endeavouring to pass out of the lift, had to speak several times.
‘Pardon.’
At last it penetrated. Raymond stepped aside.
‘So sorry,’ he said. ‘I—I was thinking.’
Carol came towards him.
‘Ray, get Jinny, will you? She went back to her room. We’re going to start.’
‘Right. I’ll tell her she’s got to come straight away.’
Raymond walked into the lift.
Hercule Poirot stood for a moment looking after him, his eyebrows raised, his head a little on
one side as though he was listening.
Then he nodded his head as though in agreement. Walking through the lounge, he took a good
look at Carol, who had joined her mother.
Then he beckoned the head waiter who was passing.
‘Pardon. Can you tell me the name of those people over there?’
‘The name is Boynton, monsieur; they are Americans.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hercule Poirot.
On the third floor Dr Gerard, going to his room, passed Raymond Boynton and Ginevra walking
towards the waiting lift. Just as they were about to get into it, Ginevra said: ‘Just a minute, Ray, wait
for me in the lift.’
She ran back, turned a corner, caught up with the walking man. ‘Please—I must speak to you.’
Dr Gerard looked up in astonishment.
The girl came up close to him and caught his arm.
‘They’re taking me away! They may be going to kill me…I don’t really belong to them, you
know. My name isn’t really Boynton…’
She hurried on, her words coming fast and tumbling over each other.
‘I’ll trust you with the secret. I’m—I’m royal, really! I’m the heiress to a throne. That’s why—
there are enemies all round me. They try to poison me—all sorts of things…If you could help me—to
get away—’
She broke off. Footsteps. ‘Jinny—’
Beautiful in her sudden startled gesture, the girl put a finger to her lips, threw Gerard an
imploring glance, and ran back.
‘I’m coming, Ray.’
Dr Gerard walked on with his eyebrows raised. Slowly he shook his head and frowned.
第九章
第九章
杰拉德医生走进旅行社的办事处，看到了柜台边的莎拉•金。
她抬起头。
“哦，早上好，我正在预定去佩特拉的行程。我刚听说你也要去那边呢。”
“是的，我发现我还是能腾出时间去一趟的。”
“棒极了。”
“我想我们有挺多人一起呢，不是吗？”
“他们说还有另外两个女人——再加你和我。刚好一辆车。”
“这听起来真让人高兴。”杰拉德说完，微微一欠身，转身忙自己的手续去了。眼下，
他手里握着自己的信，和莎拉一起走出了办公室。这是个阳光灿烂的日子，就是有一点点
凉气悬在空中。
“我们的那群朋友，博因顿一家，有什么消息吗？”杰拉德医生问，“我在伯利恒、拿撒
勒和别的地方转了三天。”
莎拉意兴阑珊地把自己和博因顿一家试图接触的失败经历讲了一遍。“反正我失败
了，”她下了结论，“而且他们今天就离开了。”
“他们要去哪儿？”
“完全不知道。”她气呼呼地说，“我觉得，我简直就是做了件蠢事。”
“何出此言？”
“我干涉了别人的家务事。”
杰拉德耸耸肩。“这得看情形而定。”
“你是说应该干涉？”
“是的。”
“换成你，你会怎么做？”
法国人看起来被逗乐了。“你是说，我有没有为别人的家事操心的习惯？我可以坦白地
告诉你——没有。”
“那你觉得我不该这么费劲地去做这件事？”
“不，不，你误会了。”杰拉德急切地解释说，“我想，这是一个需要仔细讨论的问题。
如果一个人看到不公正的事情，他是不是应该竭尽全力去把这件事处理妥当？一个人的干
涉或许是为了做好事——但这可能造成无法预计的伤害！这种事没法确立一个标准，然后
一概而论的。有些人善于干涉——他们处理起来游刃有余！有些人就做得笨手笨脚，这种
人还是别去干涉的好！这里面同样也有年龄上的问题。年轻人总是有勇气——理想啊，抱
负啊，他们的价值观比较理想化。他们还没有经历过现实和理想的矛盾。如果你相信自
己，同时又相信自己所做的事情是光明而正义的，你自然会竭尽全力去完成一件大善事。
当然，也许出了岔子，会做出非常有害的事情。从另一方面来说，中年人更有经验。他深
知如果出手干涉也许有益，也许有害，甚至可以说，更多的时候还是损害居多。因此，他
会非常明智地克制自己！所以结果是均衡的——急切的年轻人无论结局好坏都会去做——
而谨慎的中年人呢？则什么都不做！”
“这堆理念可真是没什么用处。”莎拉反驳。
“一个人是否总能给别人提供帮助？这是你的问题，可不是我的。”
“你的意思是，就博因顿一家的情况来说，你打算束手观望？”
“是的，对我来说，插手帮忙根本不可能有机会成功。”
“那么对我来说也是？”
“对你来说，或许还有可能成功。”
“为什么？”
“因为你有独特的资质。你年轻，而且貌美诱人，富有性吸引力。”
“性吸引力？哦，我明白你的意思了。”
“凡事谈来谈去，总归会回到性上，不是吗？你跟那个姑娘的沟通是失败了，但是不见
得跟她哥哥的接触也会失败。正如你刚才告诉我的，也就是卡罗尔告诉你的，可以看得
出，博因顿老夫人的统治有个非常明显的威胁。那个年长的儿子，雷诺克斯，就曾经借着
年轻的劲头反抗过她。他逃出了自己的家，去了当地的舞会。一个男人想要找到伴侣，欲
望如此强烈，这可要比催眠术强得多了。但是老夫人显然清楚性的力量。她这辈子在职业
生涯里肯定见过一些。所以，她非常高明地处理了这件事，把一位漂亮而身无分文的姑娘
领到自己家里，促成了一桩婚姻。这样还得到了一个新的奴隶。”
莎拉摇头。“我不觉得年轻的博因顿夫人是个奴隶。”
杰拉德表示同意。“对，或许她的确不是。大概是因为她表现得沉静温顺，博因顿老夫
人才低估了她的意志力和个性。当年，娜丁•博因顿太年轻，不谙世事，以至于没有对他家
的状况有个清晰的认识。现在，她意识到了，但为时已晚。”
“你觉得她放弃希望了吗？”
杰拉德医生怀疑地摇摇头。“如果她心里有所打算，没人会了解她想做些什么。你知道
的，很有可能柯普先生就跟她的计划有关。男人是天性善妒的生物——而嫉妒可是驱使人
做事的一大强力动机。雷诺克斯•博因顿或许能从他那惯性的迟缓反应中被拽出来。”
“你觉得——”莎拉突然换成了非常职业化的腔调，“我或许有机会影响雷蒙德？”
“确实如此。”
莎拉叹气。“如果早知道是这样，我会努力尝试的——唉，不管怎么说，现在真的是为
时已晚了——而且我不喜欢这个主意。”
杰拉德看起来被逗乐了。“那是因为你是英国人！英国人对性的态度过于复杂了。他们
总觉得那东西‘不怎么好’。”
莎拉愤愤不平的反应对杰拉德医生完全没有影响。“好啦好啦，我知道你是一位非常现
代的小姐，你能率性地当众使用你能在词典里找到的最不文雅的词，毕竟你是专业人士，
而且完全不持偏见！但是，我还是得重申一遍，你拥有和你祖母、母亲全无差别的种族基
因。你仍然是个容易害羞脸红的英国小姐，尽管表面上来看你从不脸红！”
“我从来没听过这种混账话！”
杰拉德医生眨眨眼，从容不迫地补充了一句：“而这让你魅力十足。”
这次，莎拉真的说不出话来了。
杰拉德医生匆匆举起帽子。“我先走一步啦，”他说，“免得你把脑子里的话都倒出
来。”
他逃进了酒店。
莎拉缓缓地跟上。那里面看起来可真是忙碌。好几辆车载满了行李，正准备出发上
路。雷诺克斯和娜丁，还有柯普先生，正站在一辆大车旁边监督进度。一个胖乎乎的翻译
员正站在一旁，用相当流畅的英语和卡罗尔说话。
莎拉从他们身旁经过，走进了酒店。博因顿老夫人正裹在一件厚重的大衣里，坐在一
把椅子上，等着出发。莎拉看着她，一阵古怪的感觉席卷而来。
她曾觉得博因顿老夫人满身罪恶，纯粹是邪恶的化身。而现在，她看到的是一位老
人，孱弱无力，十分可怜。天生就对权势如此的渴求，渴望操控一切，但最后能做成的，
也不过是一家子人的暴君罢了！但愿她的孩子能像莎拉这样看待这个人——愚蠢，恶毒，
可悲，装腔作势的老女人。
猛地一阵冲动，莎拉走向她。
“再见了，博因顿夫人。”她说，“祝你旅途愉快。”
老人看着她。恶狠狠的怒气从她双眼中喷出。
“你对我相当的粗鲁无礼。”莎拉说。（我是疯了吗？莎拉想。我究竟在想什么，会跟
她说这些话？）“你花了大力气，阻止你的女儿、儿子来和我做朋友。说真的，你不觉得这
真是非常愚蠢、幼稚吗？你想做个令人敬畏的食人魔。但实际上，你不过是个既可怜又滑
稽可笑的老太婆。如果我是你的话，我会放弃这些蠢不可及的游戏。你觉得我在这儿说这
些话一定很讨厌吧，但我是真心实意的——这话可能不中听。你知道你还是能有不少乐趣
的。友好一点，善良一点，真的会好很多。只要你试试，总可以做到的。”
一阵沉默。博因顿老夫人就像是已经冻僵了，无法动弹一样。最后，她终于舔了舔自
己干裂的嘴唇，张开了嘴……
“说啊！你想对我说什么都行。但是想想我刚才对你说的话吧。”
她最终还是说话了——声音粗糙，语调轻松，但是极具恫吓力。博因顿老夫人仿佛毒
蝎一般的双眼并没有看向莎拉，而是非常奇怪地越过了她的肩头。她看起来似乎不是对着
莎拉说话，而是对着什么颇为熟悉的亡灵。
“我从不忘记。”她说，“记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事，任何一个举动，一个名
字，一张脸……”这些话本身并没有什么，但是她的语气中蕴含的恶意却让莎拉忍不住后退
了一步。
接着老夫人笑了。笑声非常可怕。
莎拉耸耸肩。“你真是莫名其妙。”她说完便转身离开，走向电梯的时候，几乎和雷蒙
德•博因顿撞了个满怀。她突然忍不住飞快地说了句：“再见。我愿你过得愉快。或许有一
天我们会再见面。”
她冲他微笑，笑容温暖而友好。接着便快步离开了。
雷蒙德站在那里，几乎化成了石头。他迷失在自己的思绪里，以至于有个留着小胡子
的小个子男人为了走到电梯那边，不得不跟他说了好几遍：
“对不起，请让一让。”
最后他终于听到了。雷蒙德站到一边。“抱歉抱歉，”他说，“我——我在想事情。”
卡罗尔朝他走过来。“雷，去接一下金妮，好吗？她又回房间了。我们得出发了。”
“好的。我会告诉她让她直接下来的。”雷蒙德走进电梯。
赫尔克里•波洛站在他身后望了他好一会儿。他抬着眼眉，头微微侧向一边，就好像正
在聆听着什么。紧接着，他赞同地点了点头。走过大厅时，他看到了正和老夫人站在一起
的卡罗尔。接着，他招呼过来了领班的侍应生。
“抱歉，你能告诉我那边那群人是谁吗？”
“那是博因顿一家，先生。他们是美国人。”
“谢谢你。”赫尔克里•波洛说。
三楼，杰拉德医生正走向自己的房间，和等待电梯的雷蒙德•博因顿和吉内芙拉擦肩而
过。就在两人要进电梯的那一瞬间，吉内芙拉说：“等一下，雷。在电梯这里等我。”她跑
回去，转过一个墙角，抓住了正走着的人。“等等——我必须和你说句话。”
杰拉德医生惊讶地看着她。姑娘贴近过来，抓着他的胳膊。“他们要带走我了！他们肯
定是想杀了我……我不是他们家的人，你明白吗？我不姓博因顿……”她急匆匆地说，说话
又快又急，字和词都粘连在一起。“我信任你，我会跟你说实话。我——我是王室的人，真
的！我是王位继承人。这就是为什么我周围都是敌人。他们想毒死我，用了各种各样的方
法……求你帮我——帮我逃走——”她突然不说了，有脚步声传来。
“金妮——”
她突然吃了一惊，惊慌中的模样十分美丽。女孩将一根手指压在唇上，抛给杰拉德一
个恳请的眼神，接着跑开了。“我这就来，雷。”
杰拉德医生挑了挑眉毛，继续走自己的路。他慢慢地摇着头，越发蹙紧了眉头。
Chapter 10
Chapter 10
It was the morning of the start to Petra.
Sarah came down to find a big masterful woman with a rocking-horse nose, whom she had
already noticed in the hotel, outside the main entrance, objecting fiercely to the size of the car.
‘A great deal too small! Four passengers? And a dragoman? Then, of course, we must have a
much larger saloon. Please take that car away and return with one of an adequate size.’
In vain did the representative of Messrs Castle raise his voice in explanation. That was the size
of car always provided. It was really a most comfortable car. A larger car was not suitable for desert
travel. The large woman, metaphorically speaking, rolled over him like a large steamroller.
Then she turned her attention to Sarah.
‘Miss King? I am Lady Westholme. I am sure you agree with me that that car was grossly
inadequate as to size?’
‘Well,’ said Sarah cautiously, ‘I agree that a larger one would be more comfortable!’
The young man from Castle’s murmured that a larger car would add to the price.
‘The price,’ said Lady Westholme firmly, ‘is inclusive, and I shall certainly refuse to sanction
any addition to it. Your prospectus distinctly states “in comfortable saloon car”. You will keep to the
terms of your agreement.’
Recognizing defeat, the young man from Castle’s murmured something about seeing what he
could do and wilted away from the spot.
Lady Westholme turned to Sarah, a smile of triumph on her weather-beaten countenance, her
large red rocking-horse nostrils dilated exultantly.
Lady Westholme was a very well-known figure in the English political world. When Lord
Westholme, a middle-aged, simple-minded peer whose only interests in life were hunting, shooting
and fishing, was returning from a trip to the United States, one of his fellow passengers was a Mrs
Vansittart. Shortly afterwards Mrs Vansittart became Lady Westholme. The match was often cited as
one of the examples of the danger of ocean voyages. The new Lady Westholme lived entirely in
tweeds and stout brogues, bred dogs, bullied the villagers and forced her husband pitilessly into
public life. It being borne in upon her, however, that politics were not Lord Westholme’s métier in
life and never would be, she graciously allowed him to resume his sporting activities and herself
stood for Parliament. Being elected with a substantial majority, Lady Westholme threw herself with
vigour into political life, being especially active at Question Time. Cartoons of her soon began to
appear (always a sure sign of success). As a public figure she stood for the old-fashioned values of
family life, welfare work amongst women, and was an ardent supporter of the League of Nations. She
had decided views on questions of Agriculture, Housing and Slum Clearance. She was much
respected and almost universally disliked! It was highly possible that she would be given an under-
secretaryship when her party returned to power. At the moment a Liberal Government (owing to a
split in the National Government between Labour and Conservatives) was somewhat unexpectedly in
power.
Lady Westholme looked with grim satisfaction after the departing car. ‘Men always think they
can impose upon women,’ she said.
Sarah thought that it would be a brave man who thought he could impose upon Lady
Westholme! She introduced Dr Gerard, who had just come out of the hotel.
‘Your name is, of course, familiar to me,’ said Lady Westholme, shaking hands. ‘I was talking
to Professor Chantereau the other day in Paris. I have been taking up the question of the treatment of
pauper lunatics very strongly lately. Very strongly indeed. Shall we come inside while we wait for a
better car to be obtained?’
A vague little middle-aged lady with wisps of grey hair who was hovering nearby turned out to
be Miss Amabel Pierce, the fourth member of the party. She, too, was swept into the lounge under
Lady Westholme’s protecting wing.
‘You are a professional woman, Miss King?’
‘I’ve just taken my M.B. ’
‘Good,’ said Lady Westholme with condescending approval. ‘If anything is to be accomplished,
mark my words, it is women who will do it.’
Uneasily conscious for the first time of her sex, Sarah followed Lady Westholme meekly to a
seat.
There, as they sat waiting, Lady Westholme informed them that she had refused an invitation to
stay with the High Commissioner during her stay in Jerusalem. ‘I did not want to be hampered by
officialdom. I wished to look into things by myself.’
‘What things?’ Sarah wondered.
Lady Westholme went on to explain that she was staying at the Solomon Hotel so as to remain
unhampered. She added that she had made several suggestions to the manager for the more
competent running of his hotel.
‘Efficiency,’ said Lady Westholme, ‘is my watchword.’
It certainly seemed to be! In a quarter of an hour a large and extremely comfortable car arrived
and in due course—after advice from Lady Westholme as to how the luggage should be stowed—the
party set off.
Their first halt was the Dead Sea. They had lunch at Jericho. Afterwards when Lady Westholme,
armed with a Baedeker, had gone off with Miss Pierce, the doctor and the fat dragoman, to do a tour
of old Jericho, Sarah remained in the garden of the hotel.
Her head ached slightly and she wanted to be alone. A deep depression weighed her down—a
depression for which she found it hard to account. She felt suddenly listless and uninterested,
disinclined for sightseeing, bored by her companions. She wished at this moment that she had never
committed herself to this Petra tour. It was going to be very expensive and she felt quite sure she
wasn’t going to enjoy it! Lady Westholme’s booming voice, Miss Pierce’s endless twitterings, and
the anti- Zionist lamentation of the dragoman, were already fraying her nerves to a frazzle. She
disliked almost as much Dr Gerard’s amused air of knowing exactly how she was feeling.
She wondered where the Boyntons were now—perhaps they had gone on to Syria—they might
be at Baalbek or Damascus. Raymond—she wondered what Raymond was doing. Strange how
clearly she could see his face—its eagerness—its diffidence—its nervous tension…
Oh, hell! Why go on thinking of people she would probably never see again? That scene the
other day with the old woman—what could have possessed her to march up to the old lady and spurt
out a lot of nonsense. Other people must have heard some of it. She fancied that Lady Westholme had
been quite close by. Sarah tried to remember exactly what it was she had said. Something that
probably sounded quite absurdly hysterical. Goodness, what a fool she had made of herself! But it
wasn’t her fault really; it was old Mrs Boynton’s. There was something about her that made you lose
your sense of proportion.
Dr Gerard entered and plumped down in a chair, wiping his hot forehead.
‘Phew! That woman should be poisoned!’ he declared.
Sarah started. ‘Mrs Boynton?’
‘Mrs Boynton! No, I meant that Lady Westholme! It is incredible to me that she has had a
husband for many years and that he has not already done so. What can he be made of, that husband?’
Sarah laughed.
‘Oh, he’s the “huntin’, fishin’, shootin’ ” kind,’ she explained.
‘Psychologically that is very sound! He appeases his lust to kill on the (so- called) lower
creations.’
‘I believe he is very proud of his wife’s activities.’
The Frenchman suggested:
‘Because they take her a good deal away from home? That is understandable.’ Then he went on,
‘What did you say just now? Mrs Boynton? Undoubtedly it would be a very good idea to poison her,
too. Undeniably the simplest solution of that family problem! In fact a great many women would be
better poisoned. All women who have grown old and ugly.’
He made an expressive face.
Sarah cried out, laughing:
‘Oh, you Frenchmen! You’ve got no use for any woman who isn’t young and attractive.’
Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
‘We are more honest about it, that is all. Englishmen, they do not get up in tubes and trains for
ugly women—no, no.’
‘How depressing life is,’ said Sarah with a sigh.
‘There is no need for you to sigh, mademoiselle.’
‘Well, I feel thoroughly disgruntled today.’
‘Naturally.’
‘What do you mean—naturally?’ snapped Sarah.
‘You could find the reason very easily if you examine your state of mind honestly.’
‘I think it’s our fellow travelers who depress me,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it, but I do hate
women! When they’re inefficient and idiotic like Miss Pierce, they infuriate me—and, when they’re
efficient like Lady Westholme, they annoy me more still.’
‘It is, I should say, unavoidable that these two people should annoy you. Lady Westholme is
exactly fitted to the life she leads and is completely happy and successful. Miss Pierce has worked for
years as a nursery governess and has suddenly come into a small legacy which has enabled her to
fulfill her life-long wish and travel. So far, travel has lived up to her expectations. Consequently you,
who have just been thwarted in obtaining what you want, naturally resent the existence of people who
have been more successful in life than you are.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Sarah gloomily. ‘What a horribly accurate mind-reader you are. I
keep trying to humbug myself and you won’t let me.’
At this moment the others returned. The guide seemed the most exhausted of the three. He was
quite subdued and hardly exuded any information on the way to Amman. He did not even mention
the Jews. For which everyone was profoundly grateful. His voluble and frenzied account of their
iniquities had done much to try everyone’s temper on the journey from Jerusalem.
Now the road wound upward from the Jordan, twisting and turning, with clumps of oleanders
showing rose-coloured flowers.
They reached Amman late in the afternoon and after a short visit to the Graeco-Roman theatre
went to bed early. They were to make an early start the next morning as it was a full day’s motor run
across the desert to Ma’an.
They left soon after eight o’clock. The party was inclined to be silent. It was a hot airless day
and by noon when a halt was made for a picnic lunch to be eaten, it was really stiflingly hot. The
irritation of a hot day of being boxed up closely with three other human beings had got a little on
everyone’s nerves.
Lady Westholme and Dr Gerard had a somewhat irritable argument over the League of Nations.
Lady Westholme was a fervent supporter of the League. The Frenchman, on the other hand, chose to
be witty at the League’s expense. From the attitude of the League concerning Abyssinia and Spain
they passed to the Litvania boundary dispute of which Sarah had never heard and from there to the
activities of the League in suppressing dope gangs.
‘You must admit they have done wonderful work. Wonderful!’ snapped Lady Westholme.
Dr Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
‘Perhaps. And at wonderful expense too!’
‘The matter is a very serious one. Under the Dangerous Drugs Act—’ The argument waged on.
Miss Pierce twittered to Sarah: ‘It is really most interesting travelling with Lady Westholme.’
Sarah said acidly: ‘Is it?’ but Miss Pierce did not notice the acerbity and twittered happily on.
‘I’ve so often seen her name in the papers. So clever of women to go into public life and hold
their own. I’m always so glad when a woman accomplishes something!’
‘Why?’ demanded Sarah ferociously.
Miss Pierce’s mouth fell open and she stammered a little.
‘Oh, because—I mean—just because—well—it’s so nice that women are able to do things!’
‘I don’t agree,’ said Sarah. ‘It’s nice when any human being is able to accomplish something
worth while! It doesn’t matter a bit whether it’s a man or a woman. Why should it?’
‘Well, of course—’ said Miss Pierce. ‘Yes, I confess—of course, looking at it in that light—’
But she looked slightly wistful. Sarah said more gently:
‘I’m sorry, but I do hate this differentiation between the sexes. “The modern girl has a
thoroughly business-like attitude towards life.” That sort of thing. It’s not a bit true! Some girls are
business-like and some aren’t.
Some men are sentimental and muddle-headed, others are clear-headed and logical. There are
just different types of brains. Sex only matters where sex is directly concerned.’
Miss Pierce flushed a little at the word sex and adroitly changed the subject.
‘One can’t help wishing that there were a little shade,’ she murmured. ‘But I do think all this
emptiness is so wonderful, don’t you?’
Sarah nodded.
Yes, she thought, the emptiness was marvellous…Healing…Peaceful…No human beings to
agitate one with their tiresome inter-relationships…No burning personal problems! Now, at last, she
felt, she was free of the Boyntons. Free of that strange compelling wish to interfere in the lives of
people whose orbit did not remotely touch her own. She felt soothed and at peace. Here was
loneliness, emptiness, spaciousness…In fact, peace…
Only, of course, one wasn’t alone to enjoy it. Lady Westholme and Dr Gerard had finished with
drugs and were now arguing about guileless young women who were exported in a sinister manner to
Argentinian cabarets. Dr Gerard had displayed throughout the conversation a levity which Lady
Westholme, who, being a true politician, had no sense of humour, found definitely deplorable.
‘We go on now, yes?’ announced the tarbrushed dragoman, and began to talk about the
iniquities of Jews again.
It was about an hour off sunset when they reached Ma’an at last. Strange wild-faced men
crowded round the car. After a short halt they went on.
Looking over the flat desert country, Sarah was at a loss as to where the rocky stronghold of
Petra could be. Surely they could see for miles and miles all round them? There were no mountains,
no hills anywhere. Were they, then, still many miles from their journey’s end?
They reached the village of Ain Musa where the cars were to be left. Here horses were waiting
for them—sorry-looking thin beasts. The inadequacy of her striped washing-frock disturbed Miss
Pierce greatly. Lady Westholme was sensibly attired in riding breeches, not perhaps a particularly
becoming style to her type of figure, but certainly practical.
The horses were led out of the village along a slippery path with loose stones. The ground fell
away and the horses zig-zagged down. The sun was close on setting.
Sarah was very tired with the long, hot journey in the car. Her senses felt dazed. The ride was
like a dream. It seemed to her afterwards that it was like the pit of Hell opening at one’s feet. The
way wound down—down into the ground. The shapes of rock rose up round them—down, down into
the bowels of the earth, through a labyrinth of red cliffs. They towered now on either side. Sarah felt
stifled—menaced by the ever-narrowing gorge.
She thought confusedly to herself: ‘Down into the valley of death—down into the valley of
death…’
On and on. It grew dark—the vivid red of the walls faded—and still on, winding in and out,
imprisoned, lost in the bowels of the earth.
She thought: ‘It’s fantastic and unbelievable…a dead city.’
And again like a refrain came the words: ‘The valley of death…’
Lanterns were lit now. The horses wound along through the narrow ways. Suddenly they came
out into a wide space—the cliffs receded. Far ahead of them was a cluster of lights.
‘That is camp!’ said the guide.
The horses quickened their pace a little—not very much—they were too starved and dispirited
for that, but they showed just a shade of enthusiasm. Now the way ran along a gravelly water-bed.
The lights grew nearer.
They could see a cluster of tents, a higher row up against the face of a cliff. Caves, too,
hollowed out in the rock.
They were arriving. Bedouin servants came running out.
Sarah stared up at one of the caves. It held a sitting figure. What was it? An idol? A gigantic
squatting image?
No, that was the flickering lights that made it loom so large. But it must be an idol of some kind,
sitting there immovable, brooding over the place…
And then, suddenly her heart gave a leap of recognition.
Gone was the feeling of peace—of escape—that the desert had given her. She had been led from
freedom back into captivity. She had ridden down into this dark winding valley and here, like an
archpriestess of some forgotten cult, like a monstrous swollen female Buddha, sat Mrs Boynton…
第十章
第十章
启程前往佩特拉的早晨。
莎拉刚下楼，便发现一个大个子的傲慢女人，鼻子就像头摇摇木马。之前她已经注意
到这个女人了。眼下这个女人正在对车子的尺寸表示强烈抗议。
“这也太小了！四个乘客？再加一个翻译？我们当然需要更大的车子！把这辆车开回
去，重新换辆大一点的过来。”
旅行社的人无论怎样解释都是徒劳，提高声调也无济于事。这就是旅行社通常提供的
车子，这款车乘坐起来其实非常舒服。大一点的车子并不适合沙漠旅行。那个大个子女
人，打个比方的话，就像一个大蒸汽火车的滚轮，直接碾压过了他。接着她注意到了莎
拉。“金小姐吧？我是韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人。想必你同意我的意见吧？这辆车子实在是小到
根本不能用。”
“是啊，”莎拉谨慎地说，“我想大一点的车子总归会舒服一点。”
旅行社的年轻人嘟囔了几句，大意是大一点的车子花费更贵。
“车费已经包括在之前的合约里了。”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人坚定地说，“我不会再多付一
分钱。而且你们的合同里很清楚地写了‘舒适的车子’。你们得遵守合同里的承诺！”
认清自己毫无胜算之后，旅社的年轻人又嘟囔了几句，表示会再想想办法，然后沮丧
地离开了。韦斯特霍姆夫人转身面向莎拉，胜利的微笑挂在她阴沉的脸上，又大又红的木
马鼻子一鼓一鼓的，十分得意。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人在英国政界算是个响当当的人物。韦斯特霍姆爵士时值中年，性
格单纯，仅有的乐趣不过是狩猎和钓鱼。在他从美国回乡的路上，同行的旅伴里有位凡茜
塔夫人。没过多久，凡茜塔夫人就变成了韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人。这桩婚姻常被用作例子，
借以说明跨大西洋旅程的危险所在。这位新晋的爵士夫人生活在苏格兰淳朴的乡村，养着
狗，横行乡里，强迫丈夫参与公共事务。不过，在发现韦斯特霍姆爵士对此实在毫无兴
趣，估计以后也不可能有之后，她就宽厚地允许爵士继续他的野外兴趣爱好，自己则亲自
出马参政。她竞选国会议员，结果凭借压倒性优势入选。在那之后，她便以极大的热情投
身到了政治生活里，而且相当活跃。最近，有关她的漫画也逐渐刊登到了报纸上（这通常
是成功的表现）。作为公众人物，她支持旧式家庭道德与妇女福利，还是国际联盟的热情
支持者。在针对农业、住宅和消除贫民窟等事情上，她都发表过颇为独特的见解。她受到
广泛的尊敬，同样也招来了不少嫌恶。等她所在的政党取得政权，她便有机会出任次长级
别以上的职位。在那个时候，工党和保守党的联合政权四分五裂，倒是自由党内阁颇为出
人意料地占据优势。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人颇为满意地看着那辆车开走。“男人总以为女人好骗。”她说。
莎拉想，要是哪个男人胆敢哄骗韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人，那可真是个勇士！她介绍了一
下刚从旅馆出来的杰拉德医生。
“当然，我早就听过您的大名。”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人一边说，一边和他握手，“我在巴
黎的时候曾经和克里蒙梭教授聊过。我最近正参与讨论有关贫穷阶层精神失常者的应对问
题，我对此真的非常有兴趣。在另一辆好点的车开来之前，我们先进去等一等吧。”
刚刚在附近转悠的那位中年女士是这一行里的第四位客人，安贝尔•皮尔斯小姐。她也
在韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人的庇护下，一阵风似的走进了屋子里。
“你是职业女性吧，金小姐？”
“我刚刚拿到医学学士学位。”
“很好，”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人的赞许口吻中隐含着纡尊降贵的意味，“记住我的话，如
果想完成任何成就，女人的力量必不可少。”
这还是第一次，莎拉非常不快地意识到了自己的性别。她跟着爵士夫人坐下。大家坐
着等了一会儿，爵士夫人跟她们讲了一下自己是如何拒绝了入住高级行政长官府邸的邀
请。
“我可不想被官僚干扰。我想要亲自去视察。”
“视察什么？”莎拉很纳闷。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人接着解释说，她住在所罗门酒店，是为了行动自由。她又补充了
一句，自己还给酒店的经理做了不少的指导，好让他们更为高效地经营酒店。
“效率为先，”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人说，“是我的座右铭。”
显然如此！十五分钟后，一辆又大又舒适的车按时开到了酒店门前——在韦斯特霍姆
爵士夫人清楚指示了如何摆放旅行箱之后，这一行人终于出发了。
他们的第一站是死海。一行人在耶利哥吃了午饭，之后韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人拿着导游
手册，和皮尔斯小姐、医生还有胖翻译一起出发，去参观古都耶利哥。莎拉留在了酒店的
花园里。
她的头有点痛，想独自待一会儿。心头沉郁难当——这心情她几乎难以解释清楚。她
突然觉得无精打采，对什么都提不起兴趣，也不想去观光，还对自己的旅伴感到厌烦。在
这一刻，她后悔安排了这次的佩特拉之旅。花销这么昂贵，又几乎可以肯定自己完全不会
觉得享受！韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人那聒噪的声音，皮尔斯小姐无休无止地叽叽喳喳，还有那
个翻译反犹太复国主义的悲叹——没完没了，这些几乎已经把她的神经给撕碎了。杰拉德
医生虽然了解她的心情，但他的嘲弄态度也很让她心烦。
她想着，不知道博因顿一家现在在哪里——也许在叙利亚——或者已经在巴勒贝克或
者大马士革了。雷蒙德——雷蒙德在做什么呢？真奇怪啊，他的脸居然清清楚楚地浮现在
她眼前，那一脸的迫切，紧张不安，绷紧的神经……哦，天哪！为什么要惦念一个她很有
可能再也见不到的人呢？和那个老女人交谈的那一幕——到底是什么促使她大步走到了老
夫人面前，说出了那么一番胡话。别人也一定听到了。她记得当时韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人就
在那里。莎拉试着回忆自己到底说了些什么。那些话听起来应该相当荒谬和歇斯底里。
哦，上帝啊，她把自己搞成了个蠢货！但是这真的不是她的错——这都得怪博因顿老夫
人。她身上有些什么，逼人脱离自己的轨道。
此时，杰拉德医生走了进来，一屁股坐进椅子里，擦着额头的汗。“哦！那女人真该被
毒死！”他嚷道。
莎拉吃了一惊。“博因顿夫人？”
“博因顿夫人？不，我是说韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人！她居然还能有丈夫，这事简直离奇！
他居然能活到现在都没被气死。她丈夫得是什么材料做成的啊！”
莎拉笑了。“哦，他的全部生活就是‘打猎、钓鱼和射击’嘛。”她解释道。
“从心理学上来说，真是对极了！他的欲望全都通过杀死所谓的低级生物得到释放
了！”
“我相信他一定为妻子的成就感到自豪吧。”
法国人附和道：“因为这样她就不常在家待着了，是吧？哦，这我倒是非常理解。”他
接着说下去，“你刚刚说什么？毒死博因顿夫人？毫无疑问，毒死她是个绝顶的好主意。无
可否认的是，这的确是解决那个家庭问题的简单方案！实际上好多女人都该被毒死。所有
又老又丑的女人。”他露出一副颇有深意的神色。
莎拉哭笑不得地喊道：“哦，你们这些法国人！在你们心里，既不年轻也不漂亮的女人
就一无是处。”
杰拉德耸耸肩。“我们不过是实话实说罢了。你们英国人也不会在地铁或火车上为丑女
人让座——不会，他们才不会呢。”
“这样的人生真让人泄气。”莎拉叹气。
“你可没有必要叹气，小姐。”
“好吧，今天不知道怎么了，我就是很不快活。”
“那是自然。”
“你说‘自然’——什么意思？”莎拉追问。
“如果你诚实地审视自己的心情，就能知道缘由了。”
“我想，是我们的旅伴让我很不快活。”莎拉说，“虽然这样说太可怕了，但是我讨厌女
人！如果她们像皮尔斯小姐那样做事慢得要死，又呆又笨，我会觉得讨厌；如果她们效率
奇高，就像韦斯特霍姆夫人似的，我会觉得更讨厌！”
“我觉得吧，那是因为这两个人都不可避免地让你烦心。韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人正志得意
满，过着自己想要的幸福、成功的生活。而皮尔斯小姐呢，当保姆当了这么多年，突然得
到一小笔遗产，于是过上了自己这辈子一直在幻想的生活，出来旅行。目前为止，旅行完
全符合她的期待。至于你，你刚刚争取自己想要的东西却没成功。很自然的，看着眼前成
功的人在生活里比你幸福得多，自然会心生憎恨。”
“我想你是对的，”莎拉阴沉地说，“你可真是个精准到吓人的读心师。无论我多想欺骗
自己，还是骗不过你。”
就在这一刻，其他人都回来了。在那三个人里，向导看起来尤为疲惫。在去安曼 [1] 的
路上，他一言不发，几乎什么都没讲。他也不再讲犹太人的事情。这对大家来说，倒是让
人相当感激的好事。自打从耶路撒冷启程以来，他就一直在喋喋不休地念叨着犹太人的非
法行径，几乎磨掉了所有人的耐心。
小道从约旦蜿蜒而上，曲折回转，沿路是夹竹桃林丛，掺杂着玫瑰色的花。
下午晚些时候，他们到了安曼，短暂参观了格雷格－罗马剧院之后，便早早上床休息
了。他们明天得早起，接着又要花上一整天穿过沙漠，向马安 [2] 赶去。
八点后他们就出发了。一路上，大家都十分沉默。白日热辣，中午的时候他们稍事休
息，吃了顿野餐。这儿实在是很热，热得让人窒息。大热天和其他四个人被关在一起的烦
闷感觉几乎扰乱了每一个人的神经。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人和杰拉德医生在国际联盟问题上发生了让人不快的争论。爵士夫
人坚定地支持国际联盟；而法国人却讥讽联盟巨大的开销。从联盟对待阿尔及利亚和西班
牙问题的态度一直争吵到了立陶宛边境纠纷，以及国际联盟大规模揭发毒品走私等莎拉闻
所未闻的问题。
“你必须承认，他们的工作是伟大的。伟大的！”爵士夫人尖声咆哮。
杰拉德医生耸耸肩。“或许是吧，但开销也真是够巨大的！”
“事态严重！在毒品走私的威胁下——”这番争论无休无止。
皮尔斯小姐低声对莎拉说：“和韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人旅行真是再有趣不过了啊。”
莎拉酸溜溜地嘀咕了一句：“是吗？”但是皮尔斯小姐没有留意她话里的不悦，继续兴
高采烈地低声说下去。“我经常在报纸上看到她的名字。这个女人真聪明啊，从政，还站在
女性这一边。女人可以做出一番事业，真让我高兴！”
“为什么？”莎拉蛮横地反问道。
皮尔斯小姐张大了嘴，有些不知所措。“哦，因为——我是说——因为——好吧——女
人能做成什么事，多了不起啊！”
“我不觉得，”莎拉说，“任何人能够成就一番事业总是让人高兴的。无论这个人是男是
女。不是吗？”
“好吧，当然——”皮尔斯小姐说，“是的——我承认——当然了，从这个角度来说
——”话虽这样说，她看起来仍然有些不满，于是莎拉温和地开了口：“很抱歉，但我真的
不喜欢这么强调不同性别。‘现代女性的人生观很现实’这种论调根本不对！有些女人很务
实，有些则不然。有些男人非常情绪化，容易伤感，有些则头脑清晰，富于理性。这只是
不同的大脑，性别只有在和性相关的时候才会有所不同。”
性这个词让皮尔斯小姐涨红了脸，急急地换了话题。“真怀念有阴凉的地方，”她嘟囔
着，“但这种无人的空旷也很棒，是吧？”
莎拉点点头。是的，她想着，这种空空荡荡、渺无人烟的感觉非常美妙……治愈心
灵……安详宜人……没有烦人的人际关系要惦念……没有烦人的个人问题！现在，至少是
现在这一刻，她感到自己是自由的，不受博因顿一家的牵绊。不再被那个压迫人的念头所
控制，想要去干涉别人的生活，那些人的生活轨迹离自己那么远，根本没有插手的机会。
她觉得平静祥和。这里只有孤寂，空灵，宽广……实际上，这里有安宁……只是，当然
了，她不是独自在这里享受。韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人和杰拉德医生已经结束了他们有关毒品
的争论，开始讨论一个被卖到阿根廷酒馆，遭遇悲惨的年轻少女的故事。杰拉德医生语言
诙谐，而韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人则是标准的政客，毫无幽默感，只会没完没了地悲叹。
“我们出发吧？”疲惫不堪的向导说，接着又开始谈论犹太人的违法行径。
距太阳落山还有一个小时的时候，他们终于抵达了马安。一群相貌粗野的男子聚集在
车子周围。短暂休息了片刻之后，众人再次上路。回头看着一望无际的沙漠，莎拉茫然若
失，她搞不清楚佩特拉的镇子到底在哪儿。再过几英里他们就能看到了吧？哪里都没有
山。离他们旅途的终点还很远很远吗？
他们到了艾因•穆沙村，到了这儿车子就得开走了。马匹正在那儿等着他们——这些家
畜看起来十分瘦弱，让人满心愧疚。皮尔斯穿的是斜条纹的棉布衣服，不适合骑马，她为
此十分懊丧。韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人则是很明智地穿了骑马裤，虽然不算合乎她的身形体
格，却是非常实用。
马匹被向导牵引着领出了村庄，沿着一道光滑的石板路前行。地面感觉非常滑，马儿
几次差点滑倒。此时，太阳已经开始西下。
经过乘车那段漫长而闷热的旅程，莎拉非常疲惫。她有些晕眩。骑马如同行走在梦
中。过了一会儿，她又觉得好像地狱的烈火之门正在自己脚下洞开。道路蜿蜒——深入地
下。奇形怪状的石头在他们身边时而凸起，时而向地底延伸。过了一会儿，两边又是峭立
的悬崖，岩谷无比狭隘，莎拉觉得有些窒息。她思绪混乱，脑子里回想着：“行过死阴的幽
谷——行过死阴的幽谷……”
走着，走着。天色暗沉下来。石墙的红色慢慢退去，寂静蔓延，风起风扬，如同被吸
入牢笼，迷失在岩石地貌之中。
她想着：“这真是美妙又令人难以置信……一座死亡之城。”
接着，刚才的字句再次浮现：“死阴的幽谷……”
灯亮了起来。马儿继续沿着狭窄的小路前行。突然，他们走进了一片开阔地带——悬
崖远去，在他们眼前是一簇簇灯火。
“营地就在那儿！”向导说。
马儿稍许加快步伐——不算加快很多——它们已经太饿太累，没法子再快了，但还是
展现了一些急切。小道沿着布满沙石的河床向前延展。灯火越来越近。看起来似乎是一簇
簇的帐篷，高高地在峭壁的一侧排成一列。还有些洞穴，就在那些石壁上面。
他们就要到了。贝都因的仆人们跑了出来。
莎拉瞪大了眼睛，望着一个洞穴。那里坐着一个人。那是什么，一尊石像？看起来很
大的一尊石像？
不。那是因为灯光摇曳，才映得那个物体异常庞大。那尊石像就那样不可撼动地盘踞
在那里，俯视着整个营地……紧接着，突然间，莎拉认了出来，她的心猛烈地跳动。
之前那安详平和的心境荡然无存——那沙漠曾给予她的，逃脱世俗生活的心情。她再
次失去自由，再次被俘获。她已经从黝黑蜿蜒的山路骑行至此黑暗之中，而在这里，如同
一位被人遗忘的邪教女祭司，像一尊肥胖古怪的佛像一般端坐着的，正是博因顿老夫
人……
[1]安曼（Amman），约旦首都。
[2]马安（Ma'an），约旦南部城市。
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Mrs Boynton was here, at Petra!
Sarah answered mechanically questions that were addressed to her. Would she have dinner
straight away—it was ready—or would she like to wash first? Would she prefer to sleep in a tent or a
cave?
Her answer to that came quickly. A tent. She flinched at the thought of a cave, the vision of that
monstrous squatting figure recurred to her. (Why was it that something about the woman seemed
hardly human?)
Finally she followed one of the native servants. He wore khaki breeches, much patched, and
untidy puttees and a ragged coat very much the worse for wear. On his head the native headdress, the
cheffiyah, its long folds protecting the neck and secured in place with a black silk twist fitting tightly
to the crown of his head. Sarah admired the easy swing with which he walked—the careless proud
carriage of his head. Only the European part of his costume seemed tawdry and wrong. She thought:
‘Civilization is all wrong—all wrong! But for civilization there wouldn’t be a Mrs Boynton! In
savage tribes they’d probably have killed and eaten her years ago!’
She realized, half-humorously, that she was over-tired and on edge. A wash in hot water and a
dusting of powder over her face and she felt herself again—cool, poised, and ashamed of her recent
panic.
She passed a comb through her thick black hair, squinting sideways at her reflection in the
wavering light of a small oil-lamp in a very inadequate glass.
Then she pushed aside the tent-flap and came out into the night prepared to descend to the big
marquee below.
‘You—here?’
It was a low cry—dazed, incredulous.
She turned to look straight into Raymond Boynton’s eyes. So amazed they were! And
something in them held her silent and almost afraid. Such an unbelievable joy…It was as though he
had seen a vision of Paradise—wondering, dazed, thankful, humble! Never, in all her life, was Sarah
to forget that look. So might the damned look up and see Paradise…
He said again: ‘You…’
It did something to her—that low, vibrant tone. It made her heart turn over in her breast. It made
her feel shy, afraid, humble and yet suddenly arrogantly glad. She said quite simply: ‘Yes.’
He came nearer—still dazed—still only half believing.
Then suddenly he took her hand.
‘It is you,’ he said. ‘You’re real. I thought at first you were a ghost—because I’d been thinking
about you so much.’ He paused and then said, ‘I love you, you know…I have from the moment I saw
you in the train. I know that now. And I want you to know it so that—so that you’ll know it isn’t me
—the real me—who—who behaves so caddishly. You see I can’t answer for myself even now. I
might do-anything! I might pass you by or cut you, but I do want you to know that it isn’t me—the
real me—who is responsible for that. It’s my nerves. I can’t depend on them…When she tells me to
do things—I do them! My nerves make me! You will understand, won’t you? Despise me if you have
to—’
She interrupted him. Her voice was low and unexpectedly sweet. ‘I won’t despise you.’
‘All the same, I’m pretty despicable! I ought to—to be able to behave like a man.’
It was partly an echo of Gerard’s advice, but more out of her own knowledge and hope that
Sarah answered—and behind the sweetness of her voice there was a ring of certainty and conscious
authority.
‘You will now.’
‘Shall I?’ His voice was wistful. ‘Perhaps…’
‘You’ll have courage now. I’m sure of it.’
He drew himself up—flung back his head.
‘Courage? Yes, that’s all that’s needed. Courage!’
Suddenly he bent his head, touched her hand with his lips. A minute later he had left her.
第十一章
第十一章
博因顿老夫人在这儿！在佩特拉！
莎拉机械地回答着别人递过来的问题：她是现在吃晚饭还是先去洗个澡？——晚饭已
经准备好了。她是想在帐篷里睡觉还是石洞里？
这个问题她倒是回答得非常迅速。帐篷。一想到洞穴，她就打了个哆嗦，那座肥胖石
像再次浮现在她眼前（那个女人怎么总是看起来不像是人类？）。她跟着一个本地的仆人
向前走。那人穿着满是补丁的卡其裤，绑着松垮的绑腿，身上是磨损得几乎不能再穿的上
衣。他头上绑着本地那种发带，似乎是叫齐飞亚。那长长的头巾护着脖子，一条黑丝绳把
发带紧紧地固定在他的头顶。莎拉满怀敬意地看着他走动时的轻盈感，那种无所顾忌，昂
首挺胸行走的骄傲。他身上的衣服只有欧式那一部分显得廉价而不合时宜。她想着：“文明
是错的！完全是错的！对于这里的文化来说，这里可不会有博因顿老夫人那种人！要是放
在原始部落，说不准好多年前她就被杀死、吃掉了！”
她醒悟过来，有些自嘲，觉得自己可能真是太累了。用热水洗了把脸，重新补了一下
脸上的妆之后，她觉得自己又回来了——冷静，泰然自若，深以刚才的自己为耻。
她用梳子梳着厚重的黝黑长发，在一盏小煤油灯的摇曳灯光里，侧身看着镜子里的自
己。
接着，她拉开帐篷的门帘，走进了黑夜里，准备到下面的大帐篷里去。
“你——也在这儿？”
这是一声低沉的呼唤——困惑，难以置信。她转过身，正好和雷蒙德•博因顿视线相
撞。他那双眼睛瞪得大大的，但其中所含的神色却使她沉默、不安。那神色展现了强烈
的、令人难以相信的喜悦……就好像他见到了天堂——美妙，目眩神怡，满心感激，还有
谦卑！这眼神莎拉大概是再也忘不掉了——就如同被诅咒堕入地狱的灵魂直直地望见了天
堂……
他又张开了口。“你……”
那低沉回响的嗓音影响了她，让她的心在胸腔里不住地翻腾。她觉得害羞、恐惧、谦
卑，还有突如其来的、傲慢的欣喜。
她的回答相当简单。“是的。”
他走得更近了——似乎仍在晕眩之中，一副不敢相信的样子。接着，他抓住她的
手。“是你，”他说，“你是真实的。我一开始以为你是个鬼魂——因为我是这么这么的思念
你。”他顿了顿，又接着说，“我爱你，你知道吗……从我在火车上看到你的那一瞬间开
始。我现在知道了。我也希望你知道这一点——这样你才知道那不是我——真正的我——
那个表现粗鲁的人，你明白吗？我现在甚至不能为自己说话。我可能——我可能做出任何
事！我可能和你擦肩而过，甚至伤害你，但我想要你知道，那不是我——那不是真正的我
——我不是该为此负责的人。那是我的神经……我没法控制……一旦她下令要我做什么
——我就会照做！我的神经是这么操控我的！你明白吗？如果你因此而看不起我——”
她打断了他的话。她的声音很低，却又出人意料的甜美。“我不会看不起你的。”
“一样的，我还是那么唾弃我自己！我应该——像个男人！”
她的回答多少受到杰拉尔医生劝告的影响，但莎拉自己的知识和希望还是根源之所在
——而在她甜美语句的下面是不容置疑的权威和肯定。“你现在能做到的。”
“我可以吗？”他的声音里都是不确定，“或许……”
“你现在就会有勇气了。我很确定。”
他猛地挺起身，仰起头。“勇气？是的——这就是我们需要的！勇气！”
突然他低下了头，吻了吻莎拉的手，然后便转身离去。
Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Sarah went down to the big marquee. She found her three fellow travelers there. They were sitting at
table eating. The guide was explaining that there was another party here.
‘They came two days ago. Go day after tomorrow. Americans. The mother, very fat, very
difficult get here! Carried in chair by bearers—they say very hard work—they get very hot—yes.’
Sarah gave a sudden spurt of laughter. Of course, take it properly, the whole thing was funny!
The fat dragoman looked at her gratefully. He was not finding his task too easy. Lady
Westholme had contradicted him out of Baedeker three times that day and had now found fault with
the type of bed provided. He was grateful to the one member of his party who seemed to be
unaccountably in a good temper.
‘Ha!’ said Lady Westholme. ‘I think these people were at the Solomon. I recognized the old
mother as we arrived here. I think I saw you talking to her at the hotel, Miss King.’
Sarah blushed guiltily, hoping Lady Westholme had not overheard much of that conversation.
‘Really, what possessed me!’ she thought to herself in an agony.
In the meantime Lady Westholme had made a pronouncement. ‘Not interesting people at all.
Very provincial,’ she said.
Miss Pierce made eager sycophantish noises and Lady Westholme embarked on a history of
various interesting and prominent Americans whom she had met recently.
The weather being so unusually hot for the time of year, an early start was arranged for the
morrow.
The four assembled for breakfast at six o’clock. There were no signs of any of the Boynton
family. After Lady Westholme had commented unfavourably on the absence of fruit, they consumed
tea, tinned milk, and fried eggs in a generous allowance of fat flanked by extremely salt bacon.
Then they started forth, Lady Westholme and Dr Gerard discussing with animation on the part
of the former the exact value of vitamins in diet and the proper nutrition of the working classes.
Then there was a sudden hail from the camp and they halted to allow another person to join the
party. It was Mr Jefferson Cope who hurried after them, his pleasant face flushed with the exertion of
running.
‘Why, if you don’t mind, I’d like to join your party this morning. Good morning, Miss King.
Quite a surprise meeting you and Dr Gerard here. What do you think of it?’
He made a gesture indicating the fantastic red rocks that stretched in every direction.
‘I think it’s rather wonderful and just a little horrible,’ said Sarah. ‘I always thought of it as
romantic and dream-like—the “rose-red city”. But it’s much more real than that—it’s as real as—as
raw beef.’
‘And very much the colour of it,’ agreed Mr Cope.
‘But it’s marvelous, too,’ admitted Sarah.
The party began to climb. Two Bedouin guides accompanied them. Tall men, with an easy
carriage, they swung upward unconcernedly in their hobnailed boots completely foot-sure on the
slippery slope. Difficulties soon began. Sarah had a good head for heights and so had Dr Gerard. But
both Mr Cope and Lady Westholme were far from happy, and the unfortunate Miss Pierce had to be
almost carried over the precipitous places, her eyes shut, her face green, while her voice rose
ceaselessly in a perpetual wail.
‘I never could look down places. Never—from a child!’
Once she declared her intention of going back, but on turning to face the descent, her skin
assumed an even greener tinge, and she reluctantly decided that to go on was the only thing to be
done.
Dr Gerard was kind and reassuring. He went up behind her, holding a stick between her and the
sheer drop like a balustrade and she confessed that the illusion of a rail did much to conquer the
feeling of vertigo.
Sarah, panting a little, asked the dragoman, Mahmoud, who, in spite of his ample proportions,
showed no signs of distress:
‘Don’t you ever have trouble getting people up here? Elderly ones, I mean.’
‘Always—always we have trouble,’ agreed Mahmoud serenely.
‘Do you always try and take them?’
Mahmoud shrugged his thick shoulders.
‘They like to come. They have paid money to see these things. They wish to see them. The
Bedouin guides are very clever—very sure-footed—always they manage.’
They arrived at last at the summit. Sarah drew a deep breath.
All around and below stretched the blood- red rocks — a strange and unbelievable country
unparalleled anywhere. Here in the exquisite pure morning air they stood like gods, surveying a baser
world—a world of flaring violence.
Here was, as the guide told them, the ‘Place of Sacrifice’—the ‘High Place’. He showed them
the trough cut in the flat rock at their feet.
Sarah strayed away from the rest, from the glib phrases that flowed so readily from the
dragoman’s tongue. She sat on a rock, pushed her hands through her thick black hair, and gazed
down on the world at her feet. Presently she was aware of someone standing by her side. Dr Gerard’s
voice said:
‘You appreciate the appositeness of the devil’s temptation in the New Testament. Satan took
Our Lord up to the summit of a mountain and showed Him the world. “All these things will I give
thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.” How much greater the temptation up on high to be a
God of Material Power.’
Sarah assented, but her thoughts were so clearly elsewhere that Gerard observed her in some
surprise.
‘You are pondering something very deeply,’ he said.
‘Yes, I am.’ She turned a perplexed face to him.
‘It’s a wonderful idea—to have a place of sacrifice up here. I think sometimes, don’t you, that a
sacrifice is necessary…I mean, one can have too much regard for life. Death isn’t really so important
as we make out.’
‘If you feel that, Miss King, you should not have adopted our profession. To us, Death is and
must always be—the Enemy.’
Sarah shivered.
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. And yet, so often death might solve a problem. It might mean,
even, fuller life…’
‘It is expedient for us that one man should die for the people!’ quoted Gerard gravely.
Sarah turned a startled face on him.
‘I didn’t mean—’ She broke off. Jefferson Cope was approaching them.
‘Now this is really a most remarkable spot,’ he declared. ‘Most remarkable, and I’m only too
pleased not to have missed it. I don’t mind confessing that though Mrs Boynton is certainly a most
remarkable woman—I greatly admire her pluck in being determined to come here—it does certainly
complicate matters travelling with her. Her health is poor, and I suppose it naturally makes her a little
inconsiderate of other people’s feelings, but it does not seem to occur to her that her family might
like occasionally to go on excursions without her. She’s just so used to them clustering round her that
I suppose she doesn’t think—’
Mr Cope broke off. His nice kindly face looked a little disturbed and uncomfortable.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I heard a piece of information about Mrs Boynton that disturbed me
greatly.’
Sarah was lost in her own thoughts again—Mr Cope’s voice just flowed pleasantly in her ears
like the agreeable murmur of a remote stream, but Dr Gerard said:
‘Indeed? What was it?’
‘My informant was a lady I came across in the hotel at Tiberias. It concerned a servant girl who
had been in Mrs Boynton’s employ. The girl, I gather, was—had—’
Mr Cope paused, glanced delicately at Sarah and lowered his voice. ‘She was going to have a
child. The old lady, it seemed, discovered this, but was apparently quite kind to the girl. Then a few
weeks before the child was born she turned her out of the house.’
Dr Gerard’s eyebrows went up.
‘Ah,’ he said reflectively.
‘My informant seemed very positive of her facts. I don’t know whether you agree with me, but
that seems to me a very cruel and heartless thing to do. I cannot understand—’
Dr Gerard interrupted him.
‘You should try to. That incident, I have no doubt, gave Mrs Boynton a good deal of quiet
enjoyment.’
Mr Cope turned a shocked face on him.
‘No, sir,’ he said with emphasis. ‘That I cannot believe. Such an idea is quite inconceivable.’
Softly Dr Gerard quoted:
‘So I returned and did consider all the oppressions done beneath the sun. And there was
weeping and wailing from those that were oppressed and had no comfort; for with their oppressors
there was power, so that no one came to comfort them. Then I did praise the dead which are already
dead, yea, more than the living which linger still in life; yea, he that is not is better than dead or
living; for he doth not know of the evil that is wrought for ever on earth…’
He broke off and said:
‘My dear sir, I have made a life’s study of the strange things that go on in the human mind. It is
no good turning one’s face only to the fairer side of life. Below the decencies and conventions of
everyday life, there lies a vast reservoir of strange things. There is such a thing, for instance, as
delight in cruelty for its own sake. But when you have found that, there is something deeper still. The
desire, profound and pitiful, to be appreciated. If that is thwarted, if through an unpleasing
personality a human being is unable to get the response it needs, it turns to other methods—it must be
felt—it must count—and so to innumerable strange perversions. The habit of cruelty, like any other
habit, can be cultivated, can take hold of one—’
Mr Cope coughed. ‘I think, Dr Gerard, that you are slightly exaggerating. Really, the air up here
is too wonderful…’
He edged away. Gerard smiled a little. He looked again at Sarah. She was frowning—her face
was set in a youthful sternness. She looked, he thought, like a young judge delivering sentence…
He turned as Miss Pierce tripped unsteadily towards him.
‘We are going down now,’ she fluttered. ‘Oh dear! I am sure I shall never manage it, but the
guide says the way down is quite a different route and much easier. I do hope so, because from a
child I never have been able to look down from heights…’
The descent was down the course of a waterfall. Although there were loose stones which were a
possible source of danger to ankles, it presented no dizzy vistas.
The party arrived back at the camp weary but in good spirits and with an excellent appetite for a
late lunch. It was past two o’clock.
The Boynton family was sitting round the big table in the marquee. They were just finishing
their meal.
Lady Westholme addressed a gracious sentence to them in her most condescending manner.
‘Really a most interesting morning,’ she said. ‘Petra is a wonderful spot.’
Carol, to whom the words seemed addressed, shot a quick look at her mother and murmured:
‘Oh, yes—yes, it is,’ and relapsed into silence.
Lady Westholme, feeling she had done her duty, addressed herself to her food.
As they ate, the four discussed plans for the afternoon.
‘I think I shall rest most of the afternoon,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘It is important, I think, not to do
too much.’
‘I shall go for a walk and explore,’ said Sarah. ‘What about you, Dr Gerard?’
‘I will go with you.’
Mrs Boynton dropped a spoon with a ringing clatter and everyone jumped.
‘I think,’ said Lady Westholme, ‘that I shall follow your example, Miss Pierce. Perhaps half an
hour with a book, then I shall lie down and take an hour’s rest at least. After that, perhaps, a short
stroll.’
Slowly, with the help of Lennox, old Mrs Boynton struggled to her feet. She stood for a moment
and then spoke.
‘You’d better all go for a walk this afternoon,’ she said with unexpected amiability.
It was, perhaps, slightly ludicrous to see the startled faces of her family.
‘But, Mother, what about you?’
‘I don’t need any of you. I like sitting alone with my book. Jinny had better not go. She’ll lie
down and have a sleep.’
‘Mother, I’m not tired. I want to go with the others.’
‘You are tired. You’ve got a headache! You must be careful of yourself. Go and lie down and
sleep. I know what’s best for you.’
‘I—I—’
Her head thrown back, the girl stared rebelliously. Then her eyes dropped—faltered…
‘Silly child,’ said Mrs Boynton. ‘Go to your tent.’
She stumped out of the marquee-the others followed.
‘Dear me,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘What very peculiar people. Such a very odd colour—the mother.
Quite purple. Heart, I should imagine. The heat must be very trying to her.’
Sarah thought: ‘She’s letting them go free this afternoon. She knows Raymond wants to be with
me. Why? Is it a trap?’
After lunch, when she had gone to her tent and had changed into a fresh linen dress, the thought
still worried her. Since last night her feeling towards Raymond had swelled into a passion of
protective tenderness. This, then, was love—this agony on another’s behalf—this desire to avert, at
all costs, pain from the beloved…Yes, she loved Raymond Boynton. It was St George and the
Dragon reversed. It was she who was the rescuer and Raymond who was the chained victim.
And Mrs Boynton was the Dragon. A dragon whose sudden amiability was, to Sarah’s
suspicious mind, definitely sinister.
It was about a quarter-past three when Sarah strolled down to the marquee.
Lady Westholme was sitting on a chair. Despite the heat of the day she was still wearing her
serviceable Harris tweed skirt. On her lap was the report of a Royal Commission. Dr Gerard was
talking to Miss Pierce, who was standing by her tent holding a book entitled The Love Quest and
described on its wrapper as a thrilling tale of passion and misunderstanding.
‘I don’t think it’s wise to lie down too soon after lunch,’ explained Miss Pierce. ‘One’s
digestion, you know. Quite cool and pleasant in the shadow of the marquee. Oh dear, do you think
that old lady is wise to sit in the sun up there?’
They all looked at the ridge in front of them. Mrs Boynton was sitting as she had sat last night, a
motionless Buddha in the door of her cave. There was no other human creature in sight. All the camp
personnel were asleep. A short distance away, following the line of the valley, a little group of people
walked together.
‘For once,’ said Dr Gerard, ‘the good Mamma permits them to enjoy themselves without her. A
new devilment on her part, perhaps?’
‘Do you know,’ said Sarah, ‘that’s just what I thought.’
‘What suspicious minds we have. Come, let us join the truants.’
Leaving Miss Pierce to her exciting reading, they set off. Once round the bend of the valley,
they caught up the other party who were walking slowly. For once, the Boyntons looked happy and
carefree.
Lennox and Nadine, Carol and Raymond, Mr Cope with a broad smile on his face and the last
arrivals, Gerard and Sarah, were soon all laughing and talking together.
A sudden wild hilarity was born. In everyone’s mind was the feeling that this was a snatched
pleasure—a stolen joy to enjoy to the full. Sarah and Raymond did not draw apart. Instead, Sarah
walked with Carol and Lennox. Dr Gerard chatted to Raymond close behind them. Nadine and
Jefferson Cope walked a little apart.
It was the Frenchman who broke up the party. His words had been coming spasmodically for
some time. Suddenly he stopped.
‘A thousand excuses. I fear I must go back.’
Sarah looked at him. ‘Anything the matter?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, fever. It’s been coming on ever since lunch.’
Sarah scrutinized him. ‘Malaria?’
‘Yes. I’ll go back and take quinine. Hope this won’t be a bad attack. It is a legacy from a visit to
the Congo.’
‘Shall I come with you?’ asked Sarah.
‘No, no. I have my case of drugs with me. A confounded nuisance. Go on, all of you.’
He walked quickly back in the direction of the camp.
Sarah looked undecidedly after him for a minute, then she met Raymond’s eyes, smiled at him,
and the Frenchman was forgotten.
For a time the six of them, Carol, herself, Lennox, Mr Cope, Nadine and Raymond, kept
together.
Then, somehow or other, she and Raymond had drifted apart. They walked on, climbing up
rocks, turning ledges, and rested at last in a shady spot.
There was a silence—then Raymond said:
‘What’s your name? It’s King, I know. But your other name.’
‘Sarah.’
‘Sarah. May I call you that?’
‘Of course.’
‘Sarah, will you tell me something about yourself?’
Leaning back against the rocks, she talked, telling him of her life at home in Yorkshire, of her
dogs and the aunt who had brought her up.
Then, in his turn, Raymond told her a little, disjointedly, of his own life.
After that there was a long silence. Their hands strayed together. They sat, like children, hand in
hand, strangely content.
Then, as the sun grew lower, Raymond stirred.
‘I’m going back now,’ he said. ‘No, not with you. I want to go back by myself. There’s
something I have to say and do. Once that’s done, once I’ve proved to myself that I’m not a coward
—then—then—I shan’t be ashamed to come to you and ask you to help me. I shall need help, you
know, I shall probably have to borrow money from you.’
Sarah smiled.
‘I’m glad you’re a realist. You can count on me.’
‘But first I’ve got to do this alone.’
‘Do what?’
The young boyish face grew suddenly stern. Raymond Boynton said: ‘I’ve got to prove my
courage. It’s now or never.’
Then, abruptly, he turned and strode away.
Sarah leant back against the rock and watched his receding figure. Something in his words had
vaguely alarmed her. He had seemed so intense—so terribly in earnest and strung up. For a moment
she wished she had gone with him…
But she rebuked herself sternly for that wish. Raymond had desired to stand alone, to test his
new-found courage. That was his right.
But she prayed with all her heart that that courage would not fail…
The sun was setting when Sarah came once more in sight of the camp. As she came nearer in the
dim light she could make out the grim figure of Mrs Boynton still sitting in the mouth of the cave.
Sarah shivered a little at the sight of that grim, motionless figure…
She hurried past on the path below and came into the lighted marquee.
Lady Westholme was sitting knitting a navy-blue jumper, a skein of wool hung round her neck.
Miss Pierce was embroidering a table-mat with anaemic blue forget-me-nots, and being instructed on
the proper reform of the Divorce Laws.
The servants came in and out preparing for the evening meal. The Boyntons were at the far end
of the marquee in deck-chairs reading. Mahmoud appeared, fat and dignified, and was plaintively
reproachful. Very nice after-tea ramble had been arranged to take place, but everyone absent from
camp… The programme was now entirely thrown out… Very instructive visit to Nabataen
architecture.
Sarah said hastily that they had all enjoyed themselves very much.
She went off to her tent to wash for supper. On the way back she paused by Dr Gerard’s tent,
calling in a low voice: ‘Dr Gerard.’
There was no answer. She lifted the flap and looked in. The doctor was lying motionless on his
bed. Sarah withdrew noiselessly, hoping he was asleep.
A servant came to her and pointed to the marquee. Evidently supper was ready. She strolled
down again. Everyone else was assembled there round the table with the exception of Dr Gerard and
Mrs Boynton. A servant was dispatched to tell the old lady dinner was ready. Then there was a
sudden commotion outside. Two frightened servants rushed in and spoke excitedly to the dragoman
in Arabic.
Mahmoud looked round him in a flustered manner and went outside. On an impulse Sarah
joined him.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
Mahmoud replied: ‘The old lady. Abdul says she is ill—cannot move.’
‘I’ll come and see.’
Sarah quickened her step. Following Mahmoud, she climbed the rock and walked along until
she came to the squat figure in the chair, touched the puffy hand, felt for the pulse, bent over her…
When she straightened herself she was paler.
She retraced her steps back to the marquee. In the doorway she paused a minute looking at the
group at the far end of the table. Her voice when she spoke sounded to herself brusque and unnatural.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. She forced herself to address the head of the family, Lennox. ‘Your
mother is dead, Mr Boynton.’
And curiously, as though from a great distance, she watched the faces of five people to whom
that announcement meant freedom…
第十二章
第十二章
莎拉向大帐篷走去。同行的三个旅伴正坐在帐篷里的桌边吃饭。向导正在解释说另一
群游客也到了这里。
“他们是两天前来的。后天就走。美国人。那位母亲特别胖，吃尽了苦头！据说是坐在
椅子上被抬进来的——非常艰难，肩上的皮都磨破了——真的。”
莎拉突然笑了出来。当然了，谁听到这个都会觉得好笑的！胖乎乎的向导欣慰地看着
她。他已经发现自己的差事有多不容易了。韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人非常难以取悦，凭借着导
游手册一天能跟他抗议三次。就是分配床铺这种事都能挑出一堆刺来。他很高兴自己带的
队里面有人似乎不知怎的心情很好。
“哈！”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人说，“我知道那些人在所罗门酒店待过。我们一到这儿，我
就认出了里面那个老夫人。我想，我看见你在酒店和她说过话，金小姐。”
莎拉颇感丢人地红了脸，希望韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人没有听到她们当时的谈话内容。
“说真的，我当时脑子都在想什么啊！”她愠怒地跟自己说。
与此同时，韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人发表了一番意见。
“那群人无趣极了，一群乡巴佬。”她说。
皮尔斯小姐开始大献殷勤，声称在她近日所见的各色有趣、杰出的美国人里，没有哪
位能像韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人这般成就卓著。
与往年相比，今年似乎热得不同寻常。因此，第二天的行程安排是一早出发。
六点钟，四个人就聚在一起吃了早餐。博因顿一家人没露面。韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人对
早餐没有提供水果提出了抗议，之后他们喝了茶和罐装的牛奶，吃了些油腻腻的煎蛋，伴
着两片齁咸的培根。
接着他们就出发了。爵士夫人和杰拉德医生兴致勃勃地讨论起了饮食中维生素的真正
价值，以及劳动阶级的营养问题。
突然营地那边传来了一阵呼喊。他们驻足停下，等着另一个人跟上来。原来是杰弗逊•
柯普。他匆忙追上大部队，快活的脸上因为奔跑而红彤彤的。
“哦，如果你们不介意的话，我今早想跟你们一起活动。早上好啊，金小姐。在这见到
你和杰拉德医生真是个惊喜。你觉得这里怎么样？”他随意地指了指周围美妙绝伦、朝各个
方向伸展开来的红色岩石。
“我觉得这里的景色相当的美妙，而且还有点吓人。”莎拉说，“在我的想象中，这里应
该非常浪漫，如梦似幻——‘蔷薇城’嘛。但是这里比想象真实多了——真实的蔷薇城就好
像——生牛肉。”
“颜色也特别像。”柯普表示赞同。
“但是的确非常梦幻。”莎拉说。
众人开始攀登。两个本地的向导陪着他们。这些向导个子蛮高，动作轻快，穿着大钉
靴，毫不在意地大步往上走，在滑坡上也走得很稳当。麻烦的事情很快就来了。莎拉完全
不怕爬高，杰拉德医生也是。但是柯普先生和韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人就不怎么舒服了。更不
幸的是皮尔斯小姐，每次一到地势陡峭的地方就吓得不行，闭着眼，脸色发青。在一阵阵
无休无止的哀号里，她的声音拔得越来越高：“我从不敢从高处往下看，从小就是！”
每次她都喊着要回去，但是一看到回去的路有多陡峭，她的脸色就更差了，只能不情
不愿地继续走下去，除了跟着大部队往上爬，她别无选择。
杰拉德医生心地善良，他一直跟在皮尔斯小姐后面，举着手杖横在皮尔斯小姐和陡峭
的山坡间，如同一道栏杆。皮尔斯小姐承认，一想到有这么一个栏杆的确让她感觉放心不
少。
莎拉稍稍有点气喘。她问译员马哈茂德——这人体型圆胖，但行动十分灵活。“你们把
人带到这里来没遇到什么麻烦吗？我是说带老人过来。”
“嗯，是很麻烦。”马哈茂德热情地同意道。
“你经常向客人推荐这里吗？”
马哈茂德耸了耸宽厚的肩膀。“他们喜欢来这里。他们花了大钱来旅游，就是希望看到
这些东西。本地的向导很聪明，他们非常可靠——总能解决问题。”
一行人终于到了山顶。莎拉深深地吸了口气。周围和底下都是四处蔓延的红色石头
——奇妙而令人难以置信的国度，任何地方都无法复制。清晨的空气清新澄澈。他们置身
其中如同神祇，俯视着人间——暴力肆虐的人间。
这里正是向导告诉他们的，“牺牲之地”——“圣址”。
他指着他们脚边岩石上的沟槽给大家看。莎拉信步从这群人身边走开，不想听译员喋
喋不休，油嘴滑舌的让人心烦。她坐在一块岩石上，手穿过浓黑的头发，眺望着脚下的世
界。过了一会儿，她意识到有人站到了她身边。
杰拉德医生的嗓音传来：“你现在体会到《新约》里说的恶魔的诱惑了吧。撒旦把我们
的主带到山顶上，展示给他整个世界。‘只要你下山去对我顶礼膜拜，所有的这一切我都可
以给你。’成为世界的神，还有比这更为诱人的蛊惑吗？”
莎拉点点头。但她的思绪显然不在这里。杰拉德惊讶地看着她。“你似乎在沉思着什
么。”他说。
“是的，我是。”她转过身，一脸困惑地看着他，“这真是美妙的想法——在这里有个牺
牲之地。有时候我会想，牺牲是有必要的……我的意思是，或许我们把生命看得过于神圣
了。死亡有时候并不是我们想象中那么糟糕的事情。”
“如果你这么认为的话，金小姐，那你真的不应该从事我们这个行业。对我们来说，死
亡是——而且肯定一直都是——我们的敌人。”
莎拉打了个冷战。“是的，我想你说的是对的，但是，很多时候，死亡不失为一个解决
问题的思路。或许，死亡，可以充实更多的生命……”
“‘如果一个人为了多数人的利益而死，这对我们来说是个方便的理由。’”杰拉德医生沉
重地引了句话。
莎拉一脸愕然地看着他。“我不是这个意思——”
她没有把话说完。杰弗逊•柯普正走向他们。“这儿可真是个非同寻常的地方。”他嚷
道，“非同寻常啊，我真是太高兴自己没有错过这个机会。博因顿老夫人确实是个不一般的
女人。我很佩服她坚持到这里的意志。和她一起旅行着实不易。她的身体很不好，我想这
也是为什么她有时候不太懂得谅解别人。但是她似乎从来都不愿意让她的家人独自出来走
走。她一定是太习惯于所有人围在她身边了，我想她应该没想到——”柯普先生停住了话
头。他那温和善良的脸浮现出一丝烦恼和不舒服的神情。“你们知道的，”他说，“我听到了
一些有关博因顿老夫人的传言，这让我非常不安。”
莎拉再次沉浸到了自己的思绪里。柯普先生的声音如同远方小溪宜人的轻响，潺潺地
流到她耳朵里。杰拉德医生却开口问了起来：“是吗？什么事情？”
“我是听在泰伯利亚旅馆遇到的一位女士说的。据说有个姑娘曾经在博因顿家工作过。
那个女孩，我听说，曾经——”柯普先生顿了一顿，特意看了一眼莎拉，压低了自己的声
音，“——怀孕了。那位老夫人发现了这件事，但对这位姑娘还是很和善。可就在孩子出生
前的几周，她把那位姑娘赶出了家门。”
杰拉德挑起了眉毛。“啊。”他本能地应了句。
“告诉我消息的人似乎对这件事的真实性非常笃定。我不知道你是不是和我看法一致，
但是在我看来，这实在是非常残忍。我没法理解——”
杰拉德医生打断了他。“你应该试着去理解。在我看来，博因顿老夫人应该从中获得了
相当大的满足。”
柯普先生转身看着他，一脸惊吓。“不，先生，”他强调说，“我没法相信。这实在是太
骇人了。”
杰拉德医生柔声引用了一句话：“‘因此我转身，看着白日之下的那些做定的压迫。被
压迫的人群那里传来啜泣呻吟，毫无慰藉；压迫他们的人手握重权，无人敢挺身而出。我
赞扬已死的人，而不愿奉承那些仍执著生存的人。哦。从未生存于世的人远远要比已死或
者活着的人好得多；因为他们从来不曾知晓，这世上存在的活生生的罪恶……’”
他停了一会儿接着说道：“我亲爱的先生，我一生都致力于研究人类脑子里发生的奇怪
事情。一个人只肯面对人性光明美好的一面并不是好事。在生活的每一天，在那些体面的
举止和礼貌风俗的遮掩之下，有着无穷无尽的奇异事情。比如，单纯的恶毒残虐就能让某
些人非常快活。如果深究，其中蕴藏着更根深蒂固的东西。那就是要他人承认自己价值的
强烈而可怜的欲望。如果这欲望无法得到满足，它便会转向别的法子——由此便产生了不
计其数的变态行径。残虐的习性，正如其他习性一样，可以滋生、增长，控制住一个人
——”
柯普先生咳嗽了一声。“我觉得杰拉德医生你是不是太夸大其词了。说真的，这里的空
气真是太美妙了……”他落荒而逃。杰拉德医生笑了笑。他又看向莎拉。莎拉正在皱眉——
神情中带着青春的凝重。他想着，她看起来如同一位正斟酌刑罚的法官……
他转身看着皮尔斯小姐一瘸一拐地朝他走来。
“我们得下山了，”她嘟囔说，“我的老天哪！我敢说我绝对做不到的，但是向导说下山
的路截然不同，要容易得多。但愿如此，在我还是个孩子的时候，我就从来都不站在高的
地方往下看……”
回程的路沿着一条瀑布向下延伸。虽说有些石头不够稳，可能会有扭到脚的危险，但
这条路的确不会让人眩晕。
众人终于走回了营地，虽说有些累，但精神很好。时间已是下午两点，午饭的延迟也
让大家胃口大开。博因顿一家人正坐在帐篷里的大圆桌边。他们刚刚吃完午饭。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人以她最为屈尊纡贵的姿态和他们打了一个极为优雅的招呼。“真是
个极为有趣的上午，”她说，“佩特拉的确是个美妙的地方。”
卡罗尔以为她是在和自己说话，飞快地看了一眼母亲，喃喃地说：“哦，是的，是
的。”接着闭上了嘴。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人觉得自己已经完成了打招呼的责任，开始进餐。吃饭的时候，他
们讨论了下午的安排。
“我想我下午得休息了，”皮尔斯小姐说，“我觉得不要安排太多事情比较好。
“我想出去走走，四处看看，”莎拉说，“你呢，杰拉德医生？”
“我和你一起吧。”
博因顿老夫人掉了个汤匙，发出很大的声响，把所有人都吓了一跳。
“我想我会和你一样，皮尔斯小姐，”爵士夫人说，“可能就看半个小时的书，然后躺一
下，睡至少一两个小时。之后，说不定会出去散个步。”
在雷诺克斯的搀扶下，博因顿老夫人缓缓地站了起来。她站了一会儿，接着开口
说：“你们下午最好都出去走一走。”她说这话的时候带着令人难以置信的亲切。
她的家人全都大吃一惊，神情几乎滑稽可笑。
“但是，母亲，你呢？”
“我不需要任何人陪我。我想独自待一会儿，看看书。金妮最好不要去。她应该躺下睡
个觉。”
“母亲，我不累。我想和大家一起。”
“你累了。你不是说头疼吗！你得好好照顾自己。回去躺着睡觉。我知道怎样才算是对
你好。”
女孩先是仰起头，反抗般大睁着眼睛。接着她垂下了头——一副挫败的样子。
“傻孩子。”博因顿老夫人说，“回你的帐篷去。”
她蹒跚着走出大帐篷——其他人鱼贯而出。
“哦，我的天，”皮尔斯小姐说，“这群人真是太奇怪了。那个母亲的脸色真是奇怪。简
直是紫色的。我敢说她心脏不好。这里这么热，一定让她觉得非常劳累。”
莎拉想着：“她居然放他们自由了。她知道雷蒙德想和我在一起。为什么？这是个陷阱
吗？”
午饭之后，莎拉走回自己的帐篷，换了条新的亚麻布裙子，刚才的想法依然让她很忧
虑。自从昨天晚上，她对雷蒙德便有了一种保护性的温柔。这便是爱了，站在对方的角
度，感受到对方的苦恼，想要改变，不惜一切，想把爱人从苦难中解救出来……是的，她
爱雷蒙德•博因顿。正像是圣乔治与恶龙的关系反过来。她是那位拯救者，而雷蒙德是被囚
禁的受害者。
而博因顿老夫人就是那条恶龙。一条恶龙突然如此大发善心，这不由得让莎拉疑虑重
重，这里面显然有危险。
三点一刻，莎拉走向大帐篷。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人正坐在一把椅子里。尽管天很热，她还是穿着她那条轻便的哈里
斯粗花呢裙子。她的膝头摊着皇家调查委员会的报告。杰拉德医生正在和皮尔斯小姐聊
天。皮尔斯小姐站在自己的帐篷旁，拿着本名为《爱的探求》的书。封面上写着：这是一
本由激情和误解交织而成的悬疑小说。
“我觉得吃完饭就躺下可不是个好主意，”皮尔斯小姐说，“你知道的，消化系统的问
题。站在帐篷的阴凉地里可真是凉爽惬意。哦，亲爱的，你觉得那位老夫人就这么坐在大
太阳底下明智吗？”
他们全部抬头望向眼前这座山脊。博因顿老夫人正坐在那里，就如同昨天晚上一样。
一尊纹丝不动的佛像，盘坐着守在自家洞穴门口。视线范围内再无其他人。营地的其他人
都在睡觉。不远的地方，在山谷那边，有一群人正在走着。
“这次这个好心的妈妈居然允许他们独自享受风景，而不用跟着她。”杰拉德医生
说，“她这是又想出什么花招了吧。”
“你知道吗，”莎拉说，“我也是这么想的。”
“我们实在是太多疑了。来，跟他们一起去逛逛吧。”
皮尔斯小姐决定留下继续她那激动人心的阅读了。其他人启程出发。到了山谷的拐角
处，他们便追赶上了一直在缓缓步行的那群人。这一次，博因顿一家人看起来格外快活，
无忧无虑。
雷诺克斯和娜丁，卡罗尔和雷蒙德，以及柯普先生，脸上都挂着大大的笑容，最后赶
过来的杰拉德和莎拉也很快与他们一同笑了起来，互相攀谈着。
突如其来的欢愉笼罩众人。每个人都觉得这是一份得来不易的愉悦——一份偷来的享
受，要细细全数吸收。莎拉和雷蒙德没有单独一起。正相反，莎拉和卡罗尔、雷诺克斯走
在了一起。杰拉德医生跟在大家后面，和雷蒙德聊着天。娜丁和杰弗逊•柯普一起走得稍远
一点。
突然要离开大家的是那个法国人。他时不时地停口不言，忽然停下了脚步。
“真抱歉，我得先走一步。”
莎拉看他。“不舒服吗？”
他点点头。“是的，有点发烧。午餐之后就有点。”
莎拉研究着他的脸色。“疟疾？”
“是的，我得回去吃个奎宁。希望这次不会太糟糕。这应该是之前去刚果带来的病
菌。”
“需要我陪你回去吗？”莎拉问。
“不，不用，我带了药。这种事挺烦人的。你们继续逛吧，不用管我。”
他回过头，快步朝营地的方向走去。莎拉迟疑着望了他几分钟，然后她对上了雷蒙德
视线。她冲他笑了笑。法国人便被她忘在了脑后。
有那么一段时间，六个人，卡罗尔，她自己，雷诺克斯，柯普，娜丁和雷蒙德，就一
直在一起。接着，不知怎的，她和雷蒙德便离开了大部队。他们坐着歇了一会儿，然后继
续攀爬岩石，绕过壁架，最后在一个有阴凉的地方停下来休息。沉默了一会儿，雷蒙德
说：“你的名字是什么？我知道你姓金。但我想知道你的名字。”
“莎拉。”
“莎拉。我可以这么叫你吗？”
“当然。”
“莎拉，你可以告诉我一些关于你的事情吗？”
莎拉靠着身后的岩石，开始讲述自己的生活：在约克郡的家，她的狗，还有把自己抚
养长大的婶婶。
接着，作为回报，雷蒙德断断续续地讲了一些自己的生活。在那之后，两人沉默良
久。他们的双手摸索着碰到了一起。他们坐在那里，像孩子一样手牵手，涌起奇异的满足
感。
太阳越发西沉。雷蒙德突然惊醒。“我得回去了。”他说，“不，不是和你们一起。我想
自己回去。有些事情我必须做，有些话必须说。一旦做成，一旦我向自己证明我不是个懦
夫——那么——那么——我应当不会再耻于过来找你，请求你的帮助。我确实需要帮助，
你知道的。我甚至可能得跟你借钱。”
莎拉微笑。“我很高兴你是个现实主义者。你可以相信我。”
“但首先我得把这件事情做完。”
“什么事？”
那张年轻的脸庞突然严肃了起来。雷蒙德•博因顿说：“我必须试试我的勇气。现在不
试就永远都没有机会了。”接着，他突然猛地转身大步离开了。
莎拉背靠着岩石，望着他渐渐消失的身影。他的话语有些古怪，让她产生了警觉。他
似乎非常紧张——急切又亢奋，让人惊恐。那一刻，她希望自己能跟他一起回去……但是
她为这想法谴责自己。雷蒙德想要独自挺身而出，测试自己刚刚鼓起的勇气。这是他的权
利。
她祈祷着，用尽所有心意，希望那勇气不要失败……
等莎拉再次看到营地的时候，夕阳已经落山。她在昏暗的光照里走近，只能分辨出博
因顿老夫人灰暗的身形依然坐在那个山洞里。看到那阴沉、一动不动的身影，莎拉又打了
个冷战。
她快步向前走，来到了灯火通明的大帐篷。
韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人依然坐在那里，正在织一件海军蓝的毛衣，脖子上还挂着一圈毛
线。皮尔斯小姐正在往一张桌巾上绣蓝色的勿忘我，一边还在听离婚法的改革。
仆人进进出出地准备晚宴。博因顿一家正坐在大帐篷另一边的板凳上看书。马哈茂德
出现了，胖乎乎的脸上努力做出一副威严的样子，显然不太高兴。他本来在下午茶后安排
了散步，但是发现帐篷里一个人都没有……这个计划算是彻底告吹了。本来打算带大家去
参观纳巴泰人 [1] 的建筑的，那多么有意义。
莎拉匆忙表示，每个人的下午都过得十分舒适。她去自己的帐篷稍作洗漱，准备吃晚
饭。回来的路上，她在杰拉德医生的帐篷边驻足，低声喊了喊：“杰拉德医生！”
无人应答。她撩起门帘往里看了眼。医生正一动不动地躺在床上。莎拉悄无声息地退
了出来，想着他一定是睡着了。一位仆人走过来，指了指大帐篷那边。显然晚餐已经准备
好了。她大步走了过去。
除了杰拉德医生和博因顿老夫人，其他人都围着桌子聚集在一起。一个仆人被派去告
诉老夫人晚饭已经就绪。接着外面突然传来一阵骚乱。两个惊恐的仆人冲进来，语调激烈
地和译员用阿拉伯语对话。
马哈茂德突然惊慌地环顾了下四周，也冲了出去。莎拉忽来一阵冲动，也跟了上去。
“怎么了？”她问。
马哈茂德回答：“是那个老夫人。阿布达说她病了——她动不了。”
“我去看看。”
莎拉加快了脚步。她跟着马哈茂德爬上岩石，独自走到老夫人坐着的那把椅子那里
去，摸上那肥大的手，感受了下脉搏，然后弯腰看了看……
她起身的时候，脸色苍白。她转身大步走回帐篷。在门口她愣了一会儿，看着坐在大
桌子另一端的那群人。
她开口说话，嗓音在她听来非常不真实。“我很抱歉。”她说。她强迫自己对那一家人
的领头人雷诺克斯说，“你母亲已经去世了，博因顿先生。”
接着，仿佛站在遥远的彼方，她好奇地端详着那五个人的脸：对他们来说，这消息意
味着自由……
[1]纳巴泰人，在约旦、迦南的南部和阿拉伯北部经商的古代商人。
Part II Chapter 1
　　Part II Chapter 1
　　Colonel Carbury smiled across the table at his guest and raised his glass. ‘Well, here’s to crime!’
　　Hercule Poirot’s eyes twinkled in acknowledgement of the aptness of the toast.
　　He had come to Amman with a letter of introduction to Colonel Carbury from Colonel Race.
　　Carbury had been interested to see this world-famous person to whose gifts his old friend andally in the Intelligence had paid such unstinting tribute.
　　‘As neat a bit of psychological deduction as you’ll ever find!’ Race had written of the solutionof the Shaitana murder.
　　‘We must show you all we can of the neighbourhood,’ said Carbury, twisting a somewhatragged brindled moustache. He was an untidy stocky man of medium height with a semibald headand vague, mild, blue eyes. He did not look in the least like a soldier. He did not look evenparticularly alert. He was not in the least one’s idea of a disciplinarian. Yet in Transjordania he was apower.
　　‘There’s Jerash,’ he said. ‘Care about that sort of thing?’
　　‘I am interested in everything!’
　　‘Yes,’ said Carbury. ‘That’s the only way to react to life.’ He paused.
　　‘Tell me, d’you ever find your own special job has a way of following you round?’
　　‘Pardon?’
　　‘Well—to put it plainly—do you come to places expecting a holiday from crime—and findinstead bodies cropping up?’
　　‘It has happened, yes; more than once.’
　　‘H’m,’ said Colonel Carbury and looked particularly abstracted.
　　Then he roused himself with a jerk. ‘Got a body now I’m not very happy about,’ he said.
　　‘Indeed?’
　　‘Yes. Here in Amman. Old American woman. Went to Petra with her family. Trying journey,unusual heat for time of year, old woman suffered from heart trouble, difficulties of the journey a bitharder for her than she imagined, extra strain on heart—she popped off!’
　　‘Here—in Amman?’
　　‘No, down at Petra. They brought the body here today.’
　　‘Ah!’
　　‘All quite natural. Perfectly possible. Likeliest thing in the world to happen. Only—’
　　‘Yes? Only—?’
　　Colonel Carbury scratched his bald head.
　　‘I’ve got the idea,’ he said, ‘that her family did her in!’
　　‘Aha! And what makes you think that?’
　　Colonel Carbury did not reply to that question directly.
　　‘Unpleasant old woman, it seems. No loss. General feeling all round that her popping off was agood thing. Anyway, very difficult to prove anything so long as the family stick together and ifnecessary lie like hell. One doesn’t want complications—or international unpleasantness. Easiestthing to do—let it go! Nothing really to go upon. Knew a doctor chap once. He told me—often hadsuspicions in cases of his patients—hurried into the next world a little ahead of time! He said—bestthing to do to keep quiet unless you really had something damned good to go upon! Otherwisebeastly stink, case not proved, black mark against an earnest hard-working G.P. Something in that.
　　All the same—’ He scratched his head again. ‘I’m a tidy man,’ he said unexpectedly.
　　Colonel Carbury’s tie was under his left ear, his socks were wrinkled, his coat stained and torn.
　　Yet Hercule Poirot did not smile. He saw, clearly enough, the inner neatness of Colonel Carbury’smind, his neatly docketed facts, his carefully sorted impressions.
　　‘Yes. I’m a tidy man,’ said Carbury. He waved a vague hand. ‘Don’t like a mess. When I comeacross a mess I want to clear it up. See?’
　　Hercule Poirot nodded gravely. He saw.
　　‘There was no doctor down there?’ he asked.
　　‘Yes, two. One of ’em was down with malaria, though. The other’s a girl—just out of themedical student stage. Still, she knows her job, I suppose. There wasn’t anything odd about the death.
　　Old woman had got a dicky heart. She’d been taking heart medicine for some time. Nothing reallysurprising about her conking out suddenly like she did.’
　　‘Then what, my friend, is worrying you?’ asked Poirot gently.
　　Colonel Carbury turned a harassed blue eye on him.
　　‘Heard of a Frenchman called Gerard? Theodore Gerard?’
　　‘Certainly. A very distinguished man in his own line.’
　　‘Loony bins,’ confirmed Colonel Carbury. ‘Passion for a charwoman at the age of four makesyou insist you’re the Archbishop of Canterbury when you’re thirty-eight. Can’t see why and neverhave, but these chaps explain it very convincingly.’
　　‘Dr Gerard is certainly an authority on certain forms of deep-seated neurosis,’ agreed Poirot,with a smile. ‘Is—er—are—er—his views on the happening at Petra based on that line of argument?’
　　Colonel Carbury shook his head vigorously.
　　‘No, no. Shouldn’t have worried about them if they had been! Not, mind you, that I don’tbelieve it’s all true. It’s just one of those things I don’t understand—like one of my Bedouin fellowswho can get out of a car in the middle of a flat desert, feel the ground with his hand and tell you towithin a mile or two where you are. It isn’t magic, but it looks like it. No, Dr Gerard’s story is quitestraightforward. Just plain facts. I think, if you’re interested—you are interested?’
　　‘Yes, yes.’
　　‘Good man. Then I think I’ll just phone over and get Gerard along here, and you can hear hisstory for yourself.’
　　When the Colonel had dispatched an orderly on this quest, Poirot said:
　　‘Of what does this family consist?’
　　‘Name’s Boynton. There are two sons, one of ’em married. His wife’s a nice-looking girl—thequiet, sensible kind. And there are two daughters. Both of ’em quite good-looking in totally differentstyles. Younger one a bit nervy—but that may be just shock.’
　　‘Boynton,’ said Poirot. His eyebrows rose. ‘That is curious—very curious.’
　　Carbury cocked an inquiring eye at him. But as Poirot said nothing more, he himself went on:
　　‘Seems pretty obvious Mother was a pest! Had to be waited on hand and foot and kept the wholelot of them dancing attendance. And she held the purse strings. None of them had a penny of theirown.’
　　‘Aha! All very interesting. Is it known how she left her money?’
　　‘I did just slip that question in—casual like, you know. It gets divided equally between the lot ofthem.’
　　Poirot nodded his head. Then he asked:
　　‘You are of the opinion that they are all in it?’
　　‘Don’t know. That’s where the difficulty’s going to lie. Whether it was a concerted effort, orwhether it was one bright member’s idea—I don’t know. Maybe the whole thing’s a mare’s nest!
　　What it comes to is this: I’d like to have your professional opinion. Ah, here comes Gerard.’
第二部分 第一章
　　第二部分
　　第一章
　　卡伯里上校冲桌子对面的客人微笑着，举起了玻璃杯。“致犯罪，干杯！”
　　赫尔克里•波洛眨巴眨巴眼睛，对这妥帖的祝词表示感谢。
　　他带着雷斯上校写给卡伯里上校的介绍信来到了安曼。
　　卡伯里上校对于会见这位举世闻名的人物很感兴趣。他的老朋友、情报局的同事雷斯总是不吝辞色地称赞他的天赋。
　　“你会看到一个非常巧妙的心理演绎过程——”雷斯曾经写过波洛关于塞塔纳谋杀案的解决方案。
　　“我一定会带你去看看这一带的。”卡伯里捻着他那有些蓬乱的色彩斑斓的胡子说道。
　　他是个邋里邋遢的粗壮男人，中等身材，头发半秃，蓝色的眼睛温和而朦胧，看上去一点都不像个军人，甚至连军人特有的警觉都没有，更不像人们心目中的那种执法者。但是在外约旦 [1] ，他就是权力。
　　“杰拉什 [2] ，”他说，“你喜欢这种地方吗？”
　　“我对所有事都感兴趣！”
　　“是的，”卡伯里说，“这就是对待生活的唯一态度。”他停顿了一会儿。
　　“跟我说说，你有没有发现你的专业工作总是跟你形影不离？”
　　“什么？”
　　“就是——简单来说——有时候你想外出度假，远离犯罪，却发现尸体突然出现了？”
　　“发生过这种事，是的，不止一次。”
　　“嗯。”卡伯里上校说，一副心不在焉的样子。
　　然后他猛地一惊。“现在就出现了一具尸体，这让我很不高兴。”他说。
　　“是吗？”
　　“是啊，就在安曼。一个美国老太婆和家人一起去佩特拉旅游，今年热得反常，老太太心脏又不好，这次旅行可比她想象中的要劳累，心脏尤其受不了——她猝死了！”
　　“在这儿？安曼？”
　　“不，在佩特拉。他们今天把尸体运过来了。”
　　“啊！”
　　“一切都非常自然。完全有可能。世界上最有可能发生的事。只是——”
　　“什么？只是？”
　　卡伯里上校挠着他的秃脑袋。
　　“我有个想法，”他说，“是她的家人杀了她！”
　　“啊哈！你怎么会这么想呢？”
　　卡伯里上校没有直接回答。
　　“她好像是个让人讨厌的老太婆。没人为她的死伤心。周围的人都觉得她突然死了是件好事。不管怎样，只要她的家人抱成一团，必要的时候再撒个谎，那样就很难证明什么了。我们不想让问题复杂化，或者引起国际纷争，最简单的做法就是——听之任之。其实也没什么证据。我以前认识一个医生，他跟我说，他经常会怀疑病人的死因——死得太匆忙，而且比预期要早。他说，最好的做法就是保持沉默，除非你有确凿的证据。否则，案件无法澄清，热忱而勤奋的医生会留下污点，变得声名狼藉。倒是有点道理。然而——”他又挠了挠头，“我可是个一丝不苟的人。”他这话说得真是出人意料。
　　卡伯里上校的领带歪系着，袜子皱巴巴的，外套也污渍斑斑、破破烂烂。但是赫尔克里•波洛没有笑。他可以清清楚楚地看到，卡伯里头脑深处一切都井然有序。他将议事日程安排得有条不紊，各种观感印象也仔细地做了分类。
　　“没错，我是个有条理的人，”卡伯里上校重复说道，下意识地挥挥手，“不喜欢一团糟。当我遇到杂乱无章的事情时，总想理顺它。你明白吗？”
　　赫尔克里•波洛严肃地点点头，表示明白。
　　“那儿没有医生吗？他问。
　　“有，两个。其中一个因为疟疾病倒了，另外一个是个小姑娘——刚从医科学校毕业。
　　不过，我觉得她医术还不错。这起死亡事件并没有什么古怪的，老太太的心脏本来就很脆弱，已经吃了一段时间的心脏药了。像她这样猝死，其实一点儿也不奇怪。”
　　“那么，我的朋友，你在担心什么？”波洛轻轻地问。
　　卡伯里上校用他那困惑的蓝眼睛望着他。
　　“听过一个叫杰拉德的法国人吗？西奥多•杰拉德？”
　　“当然。在他那个领域中非常杰出。”
　　“研究精神病的专家，”卡伯里上校证实了这一点，“比如，一个人假如四岁的时候爱上清洁女工，那么他三十八岁的时候会当上坎特伯雷大主教。我不明白个中缘由，从来也没明白过。但是这家伙的解释非常有说服力。”
　　“杰拉德医生在深层神经症的某些研究绝对是权威人士，”波洛微笑着表示赞成，“他——呃——关于发生在佩特拉的这件事，他是基于这种理论作出推论的吗？”
　　卡伯里上校使劲摇着头。
　　“不，不是的。如果是这样，我就不用烦心了！不是说我完全不相信。这只是我不能理解的事情之一，就好像我一个在贝都因的手下，他能在广阔的沙漠中走下车，用手摸着地面，然后告诉你现在你在哪儿，误差在一两英里内。这不是魔术，但看上去真像。不，杰拉德医生说得非常直截了当。只是一些简单事实。我想，如果你有兴趣——你有兴趣吗？”
　　“有，有的。”
　　“好，那我就去打个电话，让杰拉德过来，这样你可以亲耳听他说了。”
　　卡伯里上校对一个勤务兵下达了请人的命令之后，波洛问道：
　　“这家里都有些什么人？”
　　“这家人姓博因顿，有两个儿子，其中一个结婚了，妻子是个漂亮的姑娘——安静、懂事。还有两个女儿，也都很漂亮，但风格完全不同。年纪小一点的那个有些神经质——但可能是受到了惊吓。”
　　“博因顿，”波洛说道，眉毛扬了起来，“奇怪——非常奇怪。”
　　卡伯里询问地看着他，但是见波洛没再往下说，于是他又接着说了起来：
　　“似乎很明显，母亲是个坏人！从头到脚都得让人伺候，所有人都要围着她团团转。她还手握财政大权，其他人身上一个子儿也没有。”
　　“啊哈！这些都很有意思。知道她留下的钱是怎么处理的吗？”
　　“我也提过这个问题——你知道，就是那种很随意地问了问。这些钱会平均分给每个人。”
　　波洛点点头，然后问道：
　　“你觉得他们所有人都参与其中了？”
　　“不知道。这就是麻烦所在。是大家合谋做的，还是某个聪明人的主意——我不知道。
　　也许整件事都是无稽之谈。说到这个，我想听一听你的专业意见。啊，杰拉德来了。”
　　[1]今日约旦河东、西岸的约旦、以色列及巴勒斯坦地区的合称。
　　[2]约旦北部城市，坐落在安曼市以北四十公里处，距安曼与约旦河河谷各约三十二公里，是约旦境内保存得最完好的古罗马城市之一，也是约旦重要的旅游景点之一。
Chapter 2
　　Chapter 2
　　The Frenchman came in with a quick yet unhurried tread. As he shook hands with Colonel Carburyhe shot a keen, interested glance at Poirot. Carbury said:
　　‘This is M. Hercule Poirot. Staying with me. Been talking to him about this business down atPetra.’
　　‘Ah, yes?’ Gerard’s quick eyes looked Poirot up and down. ‘You are interested?’
　　Hercule Poirot threw up his hands.
　　‘Alas! one is always incurably interested in one’s own subject.’
　　‘True,’ said Gerard.
　　‘Have a drink?’ said Carbury.
　　He poured out a whisky and soda and placed it by Gerard’s elbow. He held up the decanterinquiringly, but Poirot shook his head. Colonel Carbury set it down again and drew his chair a littlenearer.
　　‘Well,’ he said, ‘where are we?’
　　‘I gather,’ said Poirot to Gerard, ‘that Colonel Carbury is not satisfied.’
　　Gerard made an expressive gesture.
　　‘And that,’ he said, ‘is my fault! And I may be wrong. Remember that, Colonel Carbury, I maybe entirely wrong.’
　　Carbury gave a grunt.
　　‘Give Poirot the facts,’ he said.
　　Dr Gerard began by a brief recapitulation of the events preceding the journey to Petra. He gave ashort sketch of the various members of the Boynton family and described the condition of emotionalstrain under which they were labouring.
　　Poirot listened with interest.
　　Then Gerard proceeded to the actual events of their first day at Petra, describing how he hadreturned to the camp.
　　‘I was in for a bad bout of malaria—cerebral type,’ he explained. ‘For that I proposed to treatmyself by an intravenous injection of quinine. That is the usual method.’
　　Poirot nodded his comprehension.
　　‘The fever was on me badly. I fairly staggered into my tent. I could not at first find my case ofdrugs, someone had moved it from where I had originally placed it. Then, when I had found that, Icould not find my hypodermic syringe. I hunted for it for some time, then gave it up and took a largedose of quinine by the mouth and flung myself on my bed.’
　　Gerard paused, then went on:
　　‘Mrs Boynton’s death was not discovered until after sunset. Owing to the way in which she wassitting and the support the chair gave to her body, no change occurred in her position and it was notuntil one of the boys went to summon her to dinner at six-thirty that it was noticed that anything waswrong.’
　　He explained in full detail the position of the cave and its distance away from the big marquee.
　　‘Miss King, who is a qualified doctor, examined the body. She did not disturb me, knowing thatI had fever. There was, indeed, nothing that could be done. Mrs Boynton was dead—and had beendead for some little time.’
　　Poirot murmured: ‘How long exactly?’
　　Gerard said slowly:
　　‘I do not think that Miss King gave much attention to that point. She did not, I presume, think itof any importance.’
　　‘One can say, at least, when she was last definitely known to be alive?’ said Poirot.
　　Colonel Carbury cleared his throat and referred to an official-looking document.
　　‘Mrs Boynton was spoken to by Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce shortly after 4 p.m. LennoxBoynton spoke to his mother about four-thirty. Mrs Lennox Boynton had a long conversation withher about five minutes later. Carol Boynton had a word with her mother at a time she is unable tostate precisely—but which from the evidence of others would seem to have been about ten minutespast five.
　　‘Jefferson Cope, an American friend of the family, returning to the camp with Lady Westholmeand Miss Pierce, saw her asleep. He did not speak to her. That was about twenty to six. RaymondBoynton, the younger son, seems to have been the last person to see her alive. On his return from awalk he went and spoke to her at about ten minutes to six. The discovery of the body was made atsix-thirty when a servant went to tell her dinner was ready.’
　　‘Between the time that Mr Raymond Boynton spoke to her and half-past six did no one go nearher?’ asked Poirot.
　　‘I understand not.’
　　‘But someone might have done so?’ Poirot persisted.
　　‘I don’t think so. From close on six onwards servants were moving about the camp, people weregoing to and from their tents. No one can be found who saw anyone approaching the old lady.’
　　‘Then Raymond Boynton was definitely the last person to see his mother alive?’ said Poirot.
　　Dr Gerard and Colonel Carbury interchanged a quick glance. Colonel Carbury drummed on thetable with his fingers.
　　‘This is where we begin to get into deep waters,’ he said. ‘Go on, Gerard. This is your pigeon.’
　　‘As I mentioned just now, Sarah King, when she examined Mrs Boynton, saw no reason fordetermining the exact time of death. She merely said that Mrs Boynton had been dead “some littletime”, but when, on the following day for reasons of my own, I endeavoured to narrow things downand happened to mention that Mrs Boynton was last seen alive by her son Raymond at a little beforesix, Miss King, to my great surprise, said point-blank that that was impossible—that at that time MrsBoynton must already have been dead.’
　　Poirot’s eyebrows rose. ‘Odd. Extremely odd. And what does M. Raymond Boynton say tothat?’
　　Colonel Carbury said abruptly: ‘He swears that his mother was alive. He went up to her andsaid, “I’m back. Hope you have had a nice afternoon?” Something of that kind. He says she justgrunted, “Quite all right,” and he went on to his tent.’
　　Poirot frowned perplexedly.
　　‘Curious,’ he said. ‘Extremely curious. Tell me, was it growing dusk by then?’
　　‘The sun was just setting.’
　　‘Curious,’ said Poirot again. ‘And you, Dr Gerard, when did you see the body?’
　　‘Not until the following day. At 9 a.m. to be precise.’
　　‘And your estimate of the time death had occurred?’
　　The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
　　‘It is difficult to be exact after that length of time. There must necessarily be a margin of severalhours. Were I giving evidence on oath I could only say that she had been dead certainly twelve hoursand not longer than eighteen. You see, that does not help at all.’
　　‘Go on, Gerard,’ said Colonel Carbury. ‘Give him the rest of it.’
　　‘On getting up in the morning,’ said Dr Gerard, ‘I found my hypodermic syringe—it was behinda case of bottles on my dressing-table.’
　　He leaned forward.
　　‘You may say, if you like, that I had overlooked it the day before. I was in a miserable state offever and wretchedness, shaking from head to foot, and how often does one look for a thing that isthere all the time and yet be unable to find it! I can only say that I am quite positive the syringe wasnot there then.’
　　‘There’s something more still,’ said Carbury.
　　‘Yes, two facts for what they are worth and they mean a great deal. There was a mark on thedead woman’s wrist—a mark such as would be caused by the insertion of a hypodermic syringe. Herdaughter, I may say, explains it as having been caused by the prick of a pin—’
　　Poirot stirred. ‘Which daughter?’
　　‘Her daughter Carol.’
　　‘Yes, continue, I pray you.’
　　‘And there is the last fact. Happening to examine my little case of drugs, I noticed that my stockof digitoxin was very much diminished.’
　　‘Digitoxin,’ said Poirot, ‘is a heart poison, is it not?’
　　‘Yes. It is obtained from Digitalis purpurea—the common foxglove. There are four activeprinciples—digitalin—digitonin—digitalein—and digitoxin. Of these digitoxin is considered themost active poisonous constituent of digitalis leaves. According to Kopp’s experiments it is from sixto ten times stronger than digitalin or digitalein. It is official in France—but not in the BritishPharmacopoeia.’
　　‘And a large dose of digitoxin?’
　　Dr Gerard said gravely: ‘A large dose of digitoxin thrown suddenly on the circulation byintravenous injection would cause sudden death by quick palsy of the heart. It has been estimated thatfour milligrams might prove fatal to an adult man.’
　　‘And Mrs Boynton already suffered with heart trouble?’
　　‘Yes, as a matter of fact she was actually taking a medicine containing digitalin.’
　　‘That,’ said Poirot, ‘is extremely interesting.’
　　‘D’you mean,’ asked Colonel Carbury, ‘that her death might have been attributed to an overdoseof her own medicine?’
　　‘That—yes. But I meant more than that.’
　　‘In some senses,’ said Dr Gerard, ‘digitalin may be considered a cumulative drug. Moreover, asregards post-mortem appearance, the active principles of the digitalis may destroy life and leave noappreciable sign.’
　　Poirot nodded slow appreciation.
　　‘Yes, that is clever—very clever. Almost impossible to prove satisfactorily to a jury. Ah, but letme tell you, gentlemen, if this is a murder, it is a very clever murder! The hypodermic replaced, thepoison employed, a poison which the victim was already taking—the possibilities of a mistake—oraccident—are overwhelming. Oh, yes, there are brains here. There is thought—care—genius.’
　　For a moment he sat in silence, then he raised his head. ‘And yet, one thing puzzles me.’
　　‘What is that?’
　　‘The theft of the hypodermic syringe.’
　　‘It was taken,’ said Dr Gerard quickly.
　　‘Taken—and returned?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Odd,’ said Poirot. ‘Very odd. Otherwise everything fits so well…’
　　Colonel Carbury looked at him curiously.
　　‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s your expert opinion? Was it murder—or wasn’t it?’
　　Poirot held up a hand.
　　‘One moment. We have not yet arrived at that point. There is still some evidence to consider.’
　　‘What evidence? You’ve had it all.’
　　‘Ah! but this is evidence that I, Hercule Poirot, bring to you.’
　　He nodded his head and smiled a little at their two astonished faces.
　　‘Yes, it is droll, that! That I, to whom you tell the story, should in return present you with apiece of evidence about which you do not know. It was like this. In the Solomon Hotel, one night, Igo to the window to make sure it is closed—’
　　‘Closed—or open?’ asked Carbury.
　　‘Closed,’ said Poirot firmly. ‘It was open, so naturally I go to close it. But before I do so, as myhand is on the latch, I hear a voice speaking—an agreeable voice, low and clear with a tremor in it ofnervous excitement. I say to myself it is a voice I will know again. And what does it say, this voice?
　　It says these words, “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?”’
　　‘At the moment, naturellement, I do not take those words as referring to a killing of flesh andblood. I think it is an author or perhaps a playwright who speaks. But now—I am not so sure. That isto say I am sure it was nothing of the kind.’
　　Again he paused before saying: ‘Messieurs, I will tell you this—to the best of my knowledge andbelief those words were spoken by a young man whom I saw later in the lounge of the hotel and whowas, so they told me on inquiring, a young man of the name of Raymond Boynton.’
第二章
　　第二章
　　法国人走了进来，脚步轻快、从容。他跟卡伯里上校握了握手，敏锐而饶有兴致地看了波洛一眼。卡伯里介绍道：
　　“这位是赫尔克里•波洛先生，现在住在我家。我们刚才一直在说佩特拉的那个案子。”
　　“哦，是吗？”杰拉德飞快地上下打量着波洛，“你感兴趣？”
　　赫尔克里•波洛举起了双手。
　　“哎呀！人对自己的职业总是有一种不可救药的浓厚兴趣。”
　　“没错。”杰拉德说。
　　“喝点儿什么吧？”卡伯里说。
　　他倒了一杯苏打威士忌放在杰拉德手边，又询问似的举起了酒瓶，但是波洛摇了摇头。卡伯里上校放下酒瓶，把椅子稍稍拉近一些。
　　“那么，”他说，“我们说到哪里了？”
　　“我想，”波洛对杰拉德说，“卡伯里上校对猝死的结论不太满意。”
　　杰拉德做了一个意味深长的手势。
　　“这个，”他说，“是我的错！而且我可能错了。别忘了，卡伯里上校，我有可能全错了。”
　　卡伯里哼了一声。
　　“跟波洛说说事实。”
　　杰拉德医生地把佩特拉旅行前面的事简要地重复了一遍，勾画出博因顿家庭成员的特征，描述了他们所遭受的情感压力。
　　波洛很感兴趣地听着。
　　之后，杰拉德继续说着他们在佩特拉旅行的第一天发生的事，描述他是怎么回到营地的。
　　“我那严重的疟疾发作了——大脑型的，”他解释说，“因此我打算给自己采用静脉注射奎宁。一般都是用这种治疗方法。”
　　波洛理解地点点头。
　　“我烧得很严重，踉踉跄跄地回到了自己的帐篷里。一开始，我没能找到药箱——有人挪动我的药箱了。好不容易找到药箱之后，却又找不到皮下注射器了。我找了好一阵子，最后只好放弃，口服了大剂量的奎宁，然后倒头就睡。”
　　杰拉德顿了顿，然后继续说道：
　　“博因顿夫人的死是在日落之后才发现的，由于她坐在椅子上的姿势，以及椅子撑托住了尸体，所以她的这种坐姿一直没有变化，直到六点半的时候，一个男仆去叫她吃饭，才发现不对劲。”
　　他一五一十地说明了洞穴的位置，还有从洞穴到大帐篷的距离。
　　“金小姐——她是个有执业资质的医生——检查了尸体。因为知道我在发烧，所以没有打扰我。其实，任谁都是回天乏术。博因顿夫人已经死了——而且死了有段时间了。”
　　波洛嘟囔着说：“具体是多久？”
　　杰拉德缓缓地说：
　　“我想金小姐并没有怎么注意这一点。我猜，她觉得这个不重要。”
　　“至少，有人能说出最后见到博因顿老夫人活着的确切时间吧？”波洛说。
　　卡伯里上校清了清喉咙，翻看着一份官方的文件。
　　“四点刚过，博因顿夫人跟韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人和皮尔斯女士说过话。四点半，雷诺克斯•博因顿和他母亲说过话。五分钟之后，雷诺克斯的夫人和她谈了很长时间。卡罗尔•博因顿和她母亲说了两句话，时间说不准——但是根据其他人的证词，大概是在五点十分。
　　“杰弗逊•柯普，这家人的一个美国朋友，和爵士夫人、皮尔斯小姐一起回到营地时，看到她睡着了就没跟她讲话。那时候大约是差二十分钟六点。小儿子雷蒙德•博因顿，好像是最后一个看到她活着的人。五点五十分时，他散步回来，跟她说过话。尸体是在六点半被发现的，那时，一个仆人过去告诉她晚饭准备好了。
　　“从雷蒙德•博因顿和她说话，到六点半这段时间，没人再走近她吗？”波洛问道。
　　“据我所知，没有。”
　　“但是，也许有人这么做过？”波洛坚持道。
　　“我觉得不可能。大约六点以后，仆人们就在帐篷周围走来走去了，人们在自己的帐篷里进进出出。没人注意到有谁接近过那个老太太。”
　　“那么，可以确定雷蒙德•博因顿就是最后一个看到他母亲活着的人吗？”波洛说。
　　杰拉德医生和卡伯里上校飞快地交换了一下眼神，卡伯里上校用手指敲了敲桌子。
　　“从这里开始，我们就陷入麻烦之中了，”他说，“接着说吧，杰拉德，这是你的工作。”
　　“就像我刚刚提到过的，莎拉•金在检查博因顿夫人的尸体时，认为不需要确定死亡的具体时间。她只是说博因顿夫人死了‘有段时间了’。但是第二天，出于个人的职业习惯，我想尽量把范围缩小一些，刚好提到了最后见到博因顿夫人活着的人是她儿子雷蒙德，就在差几分到六点的时候。让我大吃一惊的是，金小姐立即说那是不可能的——那个时间，博因顿夫人已经死了。”
　　波洛的眉毛扬了扬。“古怪。大为古怪。那么，关于这一点，雷蒙德先生是怎么说的？”
　　突然，卡伯里上校说：“他发誓说他母亲那时候还活着。他到了那里，说：‘我回来了，下午过得还好吧？’诸如此类的话。他说她只是嘀咕了一句‘还可以’，接着他就回自己的帐篷去了。”
　　波洛困惑地皱着眉头。
　　“奇怪，”他说，“太奇怪了。那个时候天快黑了吗？”
　　“太阳才刚刚下山。”
　　“奇怪，”波洛又说了一次，“那么你，杰拉德医生，是什么时候看到尸体的？”
　　“直到第二天，确切地说是上午九点。”
　　“你对死亡时间的估算呢？”
　　法国人耸了耸肩。
　　“经过一晚之后很难说得准了。肯定会有几个小时的误差。如果要我出庭作证的话，我也只能说她的死亡时间在十二小时以上，但不到十八小时。你瞧，这么说根本没什么帮助。”
　　“继续说吧，杰拉德医生，”卡伯里上校说，“跟他说说之后的事。”
　　“第二天早上一起床，”杰拉德医生说，“我发现了我的皮下注射器——就在我梳妆台上的药箱后面。”
　　他往前探了探身。
　　“可能你会说，前一天我没注意到。我正在发着高烧，从头到脚都在哆嗦，状况惨不忍睹。而且，往往一个人在找一样东西的时候，虽然它就在那儿，可你就是找不到！但我只能说，我非常肯定那个时候注射器不在那儿。”
　　“还有呢。”卡伯里说。
　　“对，还有两件事，我觉得值得一提。死者的手腕上有一个痕迹，就像是皮下注射后留下来的小孔。她女儿解释说这是大头针扎的。”
　　波洛有所触动。“哪个女儿？”
　　“大女儿卡罗尔。”
　　“好。请接着说。”
　　“最后还有一件事。我无意中检查了一下我的小药箱，注意到我储备的毛地黄毒苷少了很多。”
　　“毛地黄毒苷，”波洛说，“是一种对心脏有毒的药，对吗？”
　　“对，是从毛地黄——俗称‘狐狸手套’——中提取的，含有四种主要成分，其中毛地黄毒苷的毒性最强。根据柯普的实验，它比毛地黄苷或者毛地黄皂苷的药性要强六到十倍。
　　所以，在法国，只有药局可以出售，英国根本就是禁止的。”
　　“而你说的是，大量的毛地黄毒苷？”
　　杰拉德医生严肃地说：“大量的毛地黄毒苷通过静脉注射的方式，突然注入血液中，会让心脏迅速麻痹，从而引发猝死。估计四毫克毛地黄毒苷就能让一个成年人毙命。”
　　“况且博因顿夫人原本就有心脏病？”
　　“没错，实际上，她所吃的药中就含有毛地黄苷。”
　　“这个，”波洛说，“非常有意思。”
　　“你的意思是，”卡伯里上校问，“她的死亡有可能会被归咎于自己服药过量？”
　　“这个——没错。不过，不光是这样。”
　　“从某种意义上说，”杰拉德医生说，“毛地黄苷是一种积累型的药物，而且说到死后特征，毛地黄的活性成分足以让人丧命，但不会留下明显的痕迹。”
　　波洛慢慢地点点头，表示听懂了。
　　“是啊，聪明，太聪明了。对陪审团来说，这样的证据几乎没有可信性。啊，但是我跟你们说，先生们，如果这是一桩谋杀，那就是一桩极其聪明的谋杀！注射器放回原地，毒药又是被害人吃过的，有可能是用错了药或者意外——服用过量。没错，很有头脑，有想法，小心谨慎——是个天才。”
　　他默不作声地在那儿坐了一会儿，然后抬起头。“可是，还有一件事我不明白。”
　　“什么？”
　　“偷皮下注射器。”
　　“是被拿走了。”杰拉德医生飞快地说道。
　　“拿走——又还回来？”
　　“是的。”
　　“奇怪，”波洛说，“非常奇怪。不然的话，所有的事就都说得通了。”
　　卡伯里上校好奇地看着他。
　　“什么，”他问，“你的专业意见是什么？是谋杀吗？”
　　波洛抬起了一只手。
　　“等等，我们还没到那一步。仍然有一些证据需要考虑。”
　　“什么证据？都跟你说了啊。”
　　“啊！但这是我赫尔克里•波洛提供给你们的证据。”
　　他点点头，微笑地看着那两张吃惊的脸。
　　“没错，这很好笑！是你们告诉了我这件事，现在我反而要提出一个你们所不知道的证据。是这样的，在所罗门酒店，一天晚上，我走到窗前想看看窗子是不是关上了——”
　　“你想关上，还是打开？”卡伯里问。
　　“关上，”波洛肯定地说，“窗户开着，所以我自然而然地要去关窗。但是就在我的手碰到窗闩、还没关上窗的时候，听到了一个说话声——一个动听的声音，低沉而清晰，以及因为兴奋而有些颤抖。我跟自己说，要是以后再听到这声音，我肯定能听出来。那这个声音说了什么呢？它说了这些话：‘你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！’
　　“那时候，当然了 [1] ，我没有意识到这些话指的是杀死活生生的人。我以为说话的是个作家或者剧作家——但是现在，我不太确定了。也就是说，我确信不是那类的事。”
　　他顿了顿，然后接着说：“先生们，我要告诉你们，这件事——根据我所知道的以及我所相信的——这些话，是我之后在酒店休息室碰到的一个年轻人说的。有人告诉我，这个年轻人名叫雷蒙德•博因顿。”
　　[1]原文为法语。
Chapter 3
　　Chapter 3
　　‘Raymond Boynton said that!’
　　The exclamation broke from the Frenchman.
　　‘You think it unlikely—psychologically speaking?’ Poirot inquired placidly.
　　Gerard shook his head.
　　‘No, I should not say that. I was surprised, yes. If you follow me, I was surprised just becauseRaymond Boynton was so eminently fitted to be a suspect.’
　　Colonel Carbury sighed. ‘These psychological fellers!’ the sigh seemed to say.
　　‘Question is,’ he murmured, ‘what are we going to do about it?’
　　Gerard shrugged his shoulders.
　　‘I do not see what you can do,’ he confessed. ‘The evidence is bound to be inconclusive. Youmay know that murder has been done but it will be difficult to prove it.’
　　‘I see,’ said Colonel Carbury. ‘We suspect that murder’s been done and we just sit back andtwiddle our fingers! Don’t like it!’ He added, as if in extenuation, his former odd plea, ‘I’m a tidyman.’
　　‘I know. I know.’ Poirot nodded his head sympathetically. ‘You would like to clear this up. Youwould like to know definitely, exactly what occurred and how it occurred. And you, Dr Gerard? Youhave said that there is nothing to be done—that the evidence is bound to be inconclusive? That isprobably true. But are you satisfied that the matter should rest so?’
　　‘She was a bad life,’ said Gerard slowly. ‘In any case, she might have died very shortly—a week—a month—a year.’
　　‘So you are satisfied?’ persisted Poirot.
　　Gerard went on:
　　‘There is no doubt that her death was—how shall we put it?—beneficial to the community. Ithas brought freedom to her family. They will have scope to develop—they are all, I think, people ofgood character and intelligence. They will be—now—useful members of society! The death of MrsBoynton, as I see it, has resulted in nothing but good.’
　　Poirot repeated for the third time: ‘So you are satisfied?’
　　‘No.’ Gerard pounded a fist suddenly on the table. ‘I am not “satisfied”, as you put it! It is myinstinct to preserve life—not to hasten death. Therefore, though my conscious mind may repeat thatthis woman’s death was a good thing, my unconscious mind rebels against it! It is not well,gentlemen, that a human being should die before her time has come.’
　　Poirot smiled. He leaned back contented with the answer he had probed for so patiently.
　　Colonel Carbury said unemotionally: ‘He don’t like murder! Quite right! No more do I.’
　　He rose and poured himself out a stiff whisky and soda. His guests’ glasses were still full.
　　‘And now,’ he said, returning to the subject, ‘let’s get down to brass tacks. Is there anything tobe done about it? We don’t like it—no! But we may have to lump it! No good making a fuss if youcan’t deliver the goods.’
　　Gerard leaned forward. ‘What is your professional opinion, M. Poirot? You are the expert.’
　　Poirot took a little time to speak. Methodically he arranged an ash-tray or two and made a littleheap of used matches. Then he said:
　　‘You desire to know, do you not, Colonel Carbury, who killed Mrs Boynton? (That is if she waskilled and did not die a natural death.) Exactly how and when she was killed—and in fact the wholetruth of the matter?’
　　‘I should like to know that, yes.’ Carbury spoke unemotionally.
　　Hercule Poirot said slowly: ‘I see no reason why you should not know it!’
　　Dr Gerard looked incredulous. Colonel Carbury looked mildly interested.
　　‘Oh,’ he said. ‘So you don’t, don’t you? That’s interestin’. How d’you propose to set about it?’
　　‘By methodical sifting of the evidence, by a process of reasoning.’
　　‘Suits me,’ said Colonel Carbury.
　　‘And by a study of the psychological possibilities.’
　　‘Suits Dr Gerard, I expect,’ said Carbury. ‘And after that—after you’ve sifted the evidence anddone some reasoning and paddled in psychology—hey presto!—you think you can produce the rabbitout of the hat?’
　　‘I should be extremely surprised if I could not do so,’ said Poirot calmly.
　　Colonel Carbury stared at him over the rim of his glass. Just for a moment the vague eyes wereno longer vague—they measured—and appraised.
　　He put down his glass with a grunt.
　　‘What do you say to that, Dr Gerard?’
　　‘I admit that I am skeptical of success…Yes, I know that M. Poirot has great powers.’
　　‘I am gifted—yes,’ said the little man. He smiled modestly.
　　Colonel Carbury turned away his head and coughed.
　　Poirot said: ‘The first thing to decide is whether this is a composite murder—planned andcarried out by the Boynton family as a whole, or whether it is the work of one of them only. If thelatter, which is the most likely member of the family to have attempted it.’
　　Dr Gerard said: ‘There is your own evidence. One must, I think, consider first RaymondBoynton.’
　　‘I agree,’ said Poirot. ‘The words I overheard and the discrepancy between his evidence and thatof the young woman doctor puts him definitely in the forefront of the suspects.’
　　‘He was the last person to see Mrs Boynton alive. That is his own story. Sarah King contradictsthat. Tell me, Dr Gerard, is there—eh?—you know what I mean—a little tendresse, shall we say—there?’
　　The Frenchman nodded. ‘Emphatically so.’
　　‘Aha! Is she, this young lady, a brunette with hair that goes back from her forehead—so—andbig hazel eyes and a manner very decided?’
　　Dr Gerard looked rather surprised.
　　‘Yes, that describes her very well.’
　　‘I think I have seen her—in the Solomon Hotel. She spoke to this Raymond Boynton andafterwards he remained plantélà—in a dream—blocking the exit from the lift. Three times I had tosay “Pardon” before he heard me and moved.’
　　He remained in thought for some moments. Then he said: ‘So, to begin with, we will accept themedical evidence of Miss Sarah King with certain mental reservations. She is an interested party.’ Hepaused—then went on: ‘Tell me, Dr Gerard, do you think Raymond Boynton is of the temperamentthat could commit murder easily?’
　　Gerard said slowly: ‘You mean deliberate planned murder? Yes, I think it is possible—but onlyunder conditions of intense emotional strain.’
　　‘Those conditions were present?’
　　‘Definitely. This journey abroad undoubtedly heightened the nervous and mental strain underwhich all these people were living. The contrast between their own lives and those of other peoplewas more apparent to them. And in Raymond Boynton’s case—’
　　‘Yes?’
　　‘There was the additional complication of being strongly attracted to Sarah King.’
　　‘That would give him an additional motive? And an additional stimulus?’
　　‘That is so.’
　　Colonel Carbury coughed.
　　‘Like to butt in a moment. That sentence of his you overheard, “You do see, don’t you, that she’sgot to be killed?” Must have been spoken to someone.’
　　‘A good point,’ said Poirot. ‘I had not forgotten it. Yes, to whom was Raymond Boyntonspeaking? Undoubtedly to a member of his family. But which member? Can you tell us something,Doctor, of the mental condition of the other members of the family?’
　　Gerard replied promptly:
　　‘Carol Boynton was, I should say, in very much the same state as Raymond—a state of rebellionaccompanied by a severe nervous excitement, but uncomplicated in her case by the introduction of asex factor. Lennox Boynton had passed the stage of revolt. He was sunk in apathy. He was finding it,I think, difficult to concentrate. His method of reaction to his surroundings was to retire further andfurther within himself. He was definitely an introvert.’
　　‘And his wife?’
　　‘His wife, though tired and unhappy, showed no signs of mental conflict. She was, I believe,hesitating on the brink of a decision.’
　　‘Such a decision being?’
　　‘Whether or not to leave her husband.’
　　He repeated the conversation he had held with Jefferson Cope. Poirot nodded in comprehension.
　　‘And what of the younger girl—Ginevra her name is, is it not?’
　　The Frenchman’s face was grave. He said:
　　‘I should say that mentally she is in an extremely dangerous condition. She has already begun todisplay symptoms of schizophrenia. Unable to bear the suppression of her life, she is escaping into arealm of fantasy. She has advanced delusions of persecution—that is to say, she claims to be a royalpersonage—in danger—enemies surrounding her—all the usual things!’
　　‘And that—is dangerous?’
　　‘Very dangerous. It is the beginning of what is often homicidal mania. The sufferer kills—notfor the lust of killing—but in self-defence. He or she kills in order not to be killed themselves. Fromtheir point of view it is eminently rational.’
　　‘So you think that Ginevra Boynton might have killed her mother?’
　　‘Yes. But I doubt if she would have had the knowledge or the constructiveness to do it the wayit was done. The cunning of that class of mania is usually very simple and obvious. And I am almostcertain she would have chosen a more spectacular method.’
　　‘But she is a possibility?’ Poirot insisted.
　　‘Yes,’ admitted Gerard.
　　‘And afterwards—when the deed was done? Do you think the rest of the family knew who haddone it?’
　　‘They know!’ said Colonel Carbury unexpectedly. ‘If ever I came across a bunch of people whohad something to hide—these are they! They’re putting something over all right.’
　　‘We will make them tell us what it is,’ said Poirot.
　　‘Third degree?’ said Colonel Carbury.
　　‘No.’ Poirot shook his head. ‘Just ordinary conversation. On the whole, you know, people tellyou the truth. Because it is easier! Because it is less strain on the inventive faculties! You can tell onelie—or two lies—or three lies—or even four lies—but you cannot lie all the time. And so—the truthbecomes plain.’
　　‘Something in that,’ agreed Carbury.
　　Then he said bluntly: ‘You’ll talk to them, you say? That means you’re willing to take this on.’
　　Poirot bowed his head.
　　‘Let us be very clear about this,’ he said. ‘What you demand, and what I undertake to supply, isthe truth. But mark this, even when we have got the truth, there may be no proof. That is to say, noproof that would be accepted in a court of law. You comprehend?’
　　‘Quite,’ said Carbury. ‘You satisfy me of what really happened. Then it’s up to me to decidewhether action is possible or not—having regard to the international aspects. Anyway, it will becleared up—no mess. Don’t like mess.’
　　Poirot smiled.
　　‘One thing more,’ said Carbury. ‘I can’t give you much time. Can’t detain these people hereindefinitely.’
　　Poirot said quietly:
　　‘You can detain them twenty-four hours. You shall have the truth by tomorrow night.’
　　Colonel Carbury stared hard at him.
　　‘Pretty confident, aren’t you?’ he asked.
　　‘I know my own ability,’ murmured Poirot.
　　Rendered uncomfortable by this un-British attitude, Colonel Carbury looked away and fingeredhis untidy moustaches.
　　‘Well,’ he mumbled, ‘it’s up to you.’
　　‘And if you succeed, my friend,’ said Dr Gerard, ‘you are indeed a marvel!’
第三章
　　第三章
　　“雷蒙德•博因顿说的这些话！”
　　法国人脱口大叫。
　　“你认为这不可能吗——从心理学角度来说？”波洛泰然自若地问道。
　　杰拉德摇摇头。
　　“不，这倒不是。不过，没错，我真的很惊讶。我吃惊，仅仅是因为雷蒙德•博因顿太符合嫌疑犯的特征了。不知道你们是否明白我的意思。”
　　卡伯里上校叹了口气，好像在说：“这些心理学家！”
　　“问题是，”他嘀咕着说，“我们应该怎么做？”
　　杰拉德耸了耸肩。
　　“我看不出你们能做些什么，”他承认道，“证据肯定没有说服力，也许你知道发生了谋杀案，但很难证明。”
　　“我明白了，”卡伯里上校说，“我们怀疑有谋杀发生了，却只能坐视不理！我不喜欢这样！”他又补充了一句，是他之前说过的那个奇怪的理由，“我是个有条理的人。”
　　“我知道，我知道。”波洛同情地点点头，“你想把这些理顺，想知道到底发生了什么，是怎么发生的。那么你呢，杰拉德医生？你说过，没什么能做的——证据没有说服力，是吗？有可能的确如此。但是事情就这样结束了，你满意吗？”
　　“她的身体状况很糟糕，”杰拉德医生慢条斯理地说，“不管怎样，也许她很快就会死掉——一星期，一个月，一年。”
　　“所以，你对这个结果很满意？”波洛坚持追问。
　　杰拉德继续说道：
　　“毋庸置疑，她的死——我该怎么说？——有益于社会。给她的家人带来了自由，让他们有机会一展身手——我觉得他们都很善良、聪明。现在，他们会成为对社会有用的人才。依我看，博因顿夫人的死，对大家来说有益无害。”
　　波洛第三次追问：“所以，你满意了？”
　　“不。”突然，杰拉德一拳砸在了桌子上，“我不像你说得那样，觉得‘满意’！我的天职就是要保护生命——而不是加速死亡。所以，虽然在我的意识中反反复复地说这个女人的死是件好事，但我的潜意识却表示反对！先生们，一个人没能寿终正寝，这样是不对的。”
　　波洛微笑起来。他向后一倚，对于这个靠着自己的耐心而引导出来的答案深感满意。
　　卡伯里上校不动声色地说：“他不喜欢谋杀。很好，我也不喜欢。”
　　他站起身，给自己倒了一杯烈性的苏打威士忌，客人们的杯子还都是满的。
　　“现在，”他回到正题上，“让我们言归正传。关于这件事，我们有什么可以做的？我们不喜欢这样，不！但也许我们只能忍着！发牢骚也没有用。”
　　杰拉德探身向前。“你的专业意见是什么呢，波洛先生？你是专家。”
　　波洛并没有马上回答，而是有条不紊地摆弄着两个烟灰缸，把用过的火柴棒堆成一小堆。然后，他说：
　　“卡伯里上校，你想不想知道是谁杀了博因顿夫人？如果她是被杀死的，而非正常死亡。那么究竟是怎么被杀的，还有确切的死亡时间——也就是说，你想知道整件事的真相，对吧？”
　　“没错，我想知道所有这些。”卡伯里上校不动声色地说。
　　赫尔克里•波洛缓缓地说：“我认为没理由不让你知道。”
　　杰拉德显得有些难以置信，而卡伯里上校则露出一副饶有兴致的表情。
　　“哦，”他说，“你会让我们知道的，对吗？有意思。你建议从哪里着手呢？”
　　“通过有条不紊地筛选证据，通过推理。”
　　“适合我。”卡伯里上校说。
　　“还有可能需要心理学方面的研究。”
　　“我想，这适合杰拉德医生，”卡伯里说，“在那之后呢——就是你筛选证据，进行一些推理，再掺入一点心理学之后呢？嘿，我变！ [1] 就可以从帽子里变出兔子了吗？”
　　“如果办不到，我才会吓得跳起来呢。”波洛冷静地说。
　　卡伯里上校从自己的杯子上方瞪着他，有那么一会儿，那双蒙眬的眼睛再也不蒙眬了——他正在思量着。
　　最后，他咕哝了一声，放下玻璃杯。
　　“你怎么看，杰拉德医生？”
　　“我承认我怀疑最后是否能成功……当然了，我知道波洛先生非常有能力。”
　　“我有天赋，没错。”小个子说着，谦虚地微微一笑。
　　卡伯里上校扭过头，咳嗽了几声。
　　波洛说：“首先要决定的事情是，这究竟是一次集体性谋杀——博因顿一家合谋并实施——还是只是他们其中的一员。如果是后者，那谁最有可能？”
　　杰拉德医生说：“根据你提供的证据，我认为，首先要考虑的肯定是雷蒙德•博因顿。”
　　“我同意，”波洛说，“我无意中听到的话，还有他和那个年轻女医生的证词的矛盾之处，这些就能把他放在头号嫌疑犯这个位置上了。”
　　“他是最后一个见到博因顿老夫人活着的人。这是他们自己的说辞。莎拉•金反对这个说法。告诉我，杰拉德医生，是不是，嗯，你知道我的意思，我们可以这么说，他们之间有点感情？”
　　法国人点点头。“绝对。”
　　“啊哈！那位年轻的女医生，是不是黑色的头发从前额往后梳，有一双褐色的大眼睛，神情很果毅？”
　　杰拉德医生一脸讶异。
　　“没错，就是那样。”
　　“我见过她——在所罗门酒店。她跟雷蒙德•博因顿说完话之后，他呆立在那儿，就像在做梦，堵住了电梯的出口。我说了三次‘请让一让’他才听到，然后才挪开了。”
　　波洛陷入了沉思，过了一会儿，说：“那么，首先，对于我们所听到的莎拉•金小姐的医学证词，心里要有所保留。她也是有利害关系的当事人。”顿了顿，他接着说，“杰拉德医生，你觉得雷蒙德•博因顿从性格上来说，是不是一个很容易动手杀人的人？”
　　杰拉德慢吞吞地说道：“你是说，精心设计的谋杀？嗯，我认为有可能——但是只有在遭受极大的精神压力的情况下。”
　　“这些前提条件存在吗？”
　　“绝对存在。不用说，这次海外旅行让这些人更加紧张不安，精神更为疲惫，眼看着自己的生活跟其他人差异那么大。至于雷蒙德•博因顿……”
　　“怎么了？”
　　“他深深地被莎拉•金所吸引，这使得他的症状更为复杂。”
　　“让他又多了个动机，多了一个刺激因素？”
　　“是这样的。”
　　卡伯里上校咳嗽了一声。
　　“打断一下，你无意中听到的那句：‘你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！’肯定是对另一个人说的。”
　　“这一点说得好。”波洛说，“我没忘。是啊，雷蒙德•博因顿是对谁说的这句话呢？不用说，是家里的某个人。不过，是哪一个呢？医生，你可否跟我们说说其他家庭成员的精神状况？”
　　杰拉德快速地说道：
　　“我得说，卡罗尔跟雷蒙德很像——叛逆，外加严重的精神兴奋，但她的这种状态没有‘性’这一因素的介入，所以并不复杂。雷诺克斯•博因顿已经过了叛逆期，陷入一种冷漠之中。我认为他很难集中精神。他应对周围环境的方法，就是刻意疏远，封闭自己，完全内向化了。”
　　“他妻子呢？”
　　“虽然他妻子很疲惫、忧郁，但没有精神问题。我相信，她当时正犹豫不决，正要做一个决定。”
　　“什么决定？”
　　“要不要离开她丈夫。”
　　他复述了一遍跟杰弗逊•柯普的谈话。波洛理解地点了点头。
　　“小女儿呢？她叫吉内芙拉，是吗？”
　　法国人一脸严肃。“我得说，她处于一种非常危险的精神状态之中，已然有一些精神分裂的症状了。她无法忍受压抑的生活，便逃进幻想的世界中。她的受迫害妄想症加重了——她号称自己是一个王室成员，处于危险之中，四周都是敌人——这些都是常见的症状！”
　　“那这样——危险吗？”
　　“非常危险。这是演变成杀人狂的征兆。病人杀人，不是因为有杀戮的欲望，而是为了自卫。他们杀人，是为了保护自己不被人杀死。从他们自己的角度来看，这是完全合理的。”
　　“所以你认为，吉内芙拉• 博因顿有可能杀死自己的母亲？”
　　“是的。不过，以这种方式杀人，我怀疑她不具备必要的知识和周密性。这种类型的狂躁一般都很简单明了。我几乎可以肯定，如果是她，会选择一种更为引人注目的方式。”
　　“不过她还是有这个可能的，是吗？”
　　“没错。”杰拉德承认道。
　　“那之后呢？事情是什么时候发生的？你觉得其他家庭成员知道是谁干的吗？”
　　“他们知道！”卡伯里上校出人意料地说话了，“他们是我所见过的最善于隐瞒的一家人！”
　　“我们会让他们说出隐瞒了什么的。”波洛说。
　　“严刑逼供？”卡伯里上校问。
　　“不是，”波洛摇了摇头，“只需要跟他们谈一谈。要知道，总的来说，人大都会说实话的。因为编谎话所带来的压力要更大一些。你可以撒一次谎，或者两次三次甚至四次，但你不可能一直撒谎。这样的话，就会真相大白了。”
　　“有道理。”卡伯里同意地说。
　　接着，他坦率地问：“你是说，你要跟他们谈话？这意味着你愿意接手此事了？”
　　波洛低下头。
　　“我们先澄清一点，”他说，“你要求我提供的，是事情的真相。不过，注意这一点，就算我们得到了真相，也不一定有证据。就是说，没有法庭可以接受的证据。你明白吗？”
　　“完全了解，”卡伯里说，“你告诉我到底发生了什么，至于国际方面的影响、有没有可能采取行动，则由我来作决定。无论如何都要弄清楚，不能糊里糊涂，不明不白的。我不喜欢混乱。”
　　波洛笑了。
　　“还有件事，”卡伯里上校说，“我给不了你太多的时间。不能无限期地把这些人留在这里。”
　　波洛平静地说：
　　“你可以留他们二十四小时。到明天晚上，你就能知道真相了。”
　　卡伯里上校死死地盯着他。
　　“你非常自信，是吗？”他问。
　　“我知道自己的能力。”波洛咕哝道。
　　这种非英式的态度让卡伯里上校不太舒服，他移开目光，捋着杂乱的胡子。
　　“好吧，”他嘀咕着，“交给你了。”
　　“如果你能成功，我的朋友，你绝对是个天才！”
　　[1]原文为法语。
Chapter 4
　　Chapter 4
　　Sarah King looked long and searchingly at Hercule Poirot. She noted the egg-shaped head, thegigantic moustaches, the dandified appearance and the suspicious blackness of his hair. A look ofdoubt crept into her eyes. ‘Well, mademoiselle, are you satisfied?’
　　Sarah flushed as she met the amused ironical glance of his eyes.
　　‘I beg your pardon,’ she said awkwardly.
　　‘Du tout! To use an expression I have recently learnt, you give me the once-over, is it not so?’
　　Sarah smiled a little. ‘Well, at any rate, you can do the same to me,’ she said.
　　‘Assuredly. I have not neglected to do so.’
　　She glanced at him sharply. Something in his tone. But Poirot was twirling his moustachescomplacently, and Sarah thought (for the second time), ‘The man’s a mountebank!’
　　Her self-confidence restored, she sat up a little straighter and said inquiringly: ‘I don’t think Iquite understand the object of this interview?’
　　‘The good Dr Gerard did not explain?’
　　Sarah said frowning: ‘I don’t understand Dr Gerard. He seems to think—’
　　‘Something is rotten in the state of Denmark,’ quoted Poirot. ‘You see, I know yourShakespeare.’
　　Sarah waved aside Shakespeare.
　　‘What exactly is all this fuss about?’ she demanded.
　　‘Eh bien, one wants, does one not, to get at the truth of this affair?’
　　‘Are you talking about Mrs Boynton’s death?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Isn’t it rather a fuss about nothing? You, of course, are a specialist, M. Poirot. It is natural foryou—’
　　Poirot finished the sentence for her.
　　‘It is natural for me to suspect crime whenever I can possibly find an excuse for doing so?’
　　‘Well—yes—perhaps.’
　　‘You have no doubt yourself as to Mrs Boynton’s death?’
　　Sarah shrugged her shoulders.
　　‘Really, M. Poirot, if you had been to Petra you would realize that the journey there was asomewhat strenuous business for an old woman whose cardiac condition was unsatisfactory.’
　　‘It seems a perfectly straight forward business to you?’
　　‘Certainly. I can’t understand Dr Gerard’s attitude. He didn’t even know anything about it. Hewas down with fever. I’d bow to his superior medical knowledge naturally—in this case he hadnothing whatever to go on. I suppose they can have a P.M. in Jerusalem if they like—if they’re notsatisfied with my verdict.’
　　Poirot was silent for a moment, then he said:
　　‘There is a fact, Miss King, that you do not yet know. Dr Gerard has not told you of it.’
　　‘What fact?’ demanded Sarah.
　　‘A supply of a drug—digitoxin—is missing from Dr Gerard’s travelling medicine case.’
　　‘Oh!’ Quickly Sarah took in this new aspect of the case. Equally quickly she pounced on the onedoubtful point.
　　‘Is Dr Gerard quite sure of that?’
　　Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
　　‘A doctor, as you should know, mademoiselle, is usually fairly careful in making hisstatements.’
　　‘Oh, of course. That goes without saying. But Dr Gerard had malaria at the time.’
　　‘That is so, of course.’
　　‘Has he any idea when it could have been taken?’
　　‘He had occasion to go to his case on the night of his arrival in Petra. He wanted somephenacetin—as his head was aching badly. When he replaced the phenacetin the following morningand shut up the case he is almost certain that all the drugs were intact.’
　　‘Almost—’ said Sarah.
　　Poirot shrugged.
　　‘Yes, there is a doubt! There is the doubt that any man, who is honest, would be likely to feel.’
　　Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, I know. One always distrusts those people who are over sure. But all thesame, M. Poirot, the evidence is very slight. It seems to me—’ She paused. Poirot finished thesentence for her.
　　‘It seems to you that an inquiry on my part is ill-advised!’
　　Sarah looked him squarely in the face.
　　‘Frankly, it does. Are you sure, M. Poirot, that this is not a case of Roman Holiday?’
　　Poirot smiled. ‘The private lives of a family upset and disturbed—so that Hercule Poirot canplay a little game of detection to amuse himself?’
　　‘I didn’t mean to be offensive—but isn’t it a little like that?’
　　‘You, then, are on the side of the famille Boynton, mademoiselle?’
　　‘I think I am. They’ve suffered a good deal. They—they oughtn’t to have to stand any more.’
　　‘And la Maman, she was unpleasant, tyrannical, disagreeable and decidedly better dead thanalive? That also—hein?’
　　‘When you put it like that—’ Sarah paused, flushed, went on: ‘One shouldn’t, I agree, take thatinto consideration.’
　　‘But all the same—one does! That is, you do, mademoiselle! I—do not! To me it is all the same.
　　The victim may be one of the good God’s saints—or, on the contrary—a monster of infamy. It movesme not. The fact is the same. A life—taken! I say it always—I do not approve of murder.’
　　‘Murder?’ Sarah drew in her breath sharply. ‘But what evidence of that is there? The flimsiestimaginable! Dr Gerard himself cannot be sure!’
　　Poirot said quietly: ‘But there is other evidence, mademoiselle.’
　　‘What evidence?’ Her voice was sharp.
　　‘The mark of a hypodermic puncture upon the dead woman’s wrist. And something more still—some words that I overheard spoken in Jerusalem on a clear, still night when I went to close mybedroom window. Shall I tell you what those words were, Miss King? They were these. I heard MrRaymond Boynton say: “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?”’
　　He saw the colour drain slowly from Sarah’s face.
　　She said: ‘You heard that?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　The girl stared straight ahead of her.
　　She said at last: ‘It would be you who heard it!’
　　He acquiesced.
　　‘Yes, it would be me. These things happen. You see now why I think there should be aninvestigation?’
　　Sarah said quietly: ‘I think you are quite right.’
　　‘Ah! And you will help me?’
　　‘Certainly.’
　　Her tone was matter-of-fact—unemotional. Her eyes met his coolly.
　　Poirot bowed. ‘Thank you, mademoiselle. Now I will ask you to tell me in your own wordsexactly what you can remember of that particular day.’
　　Sarah considered for a moment.
　　‘Let me see. I went on an expedition in the morning. None of the Boyntons were with us. I sawthem at lunch. They were finishing as we came in. Mrs Boynton seemed in an unusually goodtemper.’
　　‘She was not usually amiable, I understand.’
　　‘Very far from it,’ said Sarah with a slight grimace.
　　She then described how Mrs Boynton had released her family from attendance on her.
　　‘That too, was unusual?’
　　‘Yes. She usually kept them around her.’
　　‘Do you think, perhaps, that she suddenly felt remorseful—that she had what is called—un bonmoment?’
　　‘No, I don’t,’ said Sarah bluntly.
　　‘What did you think, then?’
　　‘I was puzzled. I suspected it was something of the cat-and-mouse order.’
　　‘If you would elaborate, mademoiselle?’
　　‘A cat enjoys letting a mouse away—and then catching it again. Mrs Boynton had that kind ofmentality. I thought she was up to some new devilry or other.’
　　‘What happened next, mademoiselle?’
　　‘The Boyntons started off—’
　　‘All of them?’
　　‘No, the youngest, Ginevra, was left behind. She was told to go and rest.’
　　‘Did she wish to do so?’
　　‘No. But that didn’t matter. She did what she was told. The others started off. Dr Gerard and Ijoined them—’
　　‘When was this?’
　　‘About half-past three.’
　　‘Where was Mrs Boynton then?’
　　‘Nadine—young Mrs Boynton—had settled her in her chair outside her cave.’
　　‘Proceed.’
　　‘When we got round the bend, Dr Gerard and I caught up the others. We all walked together.
　　Then, after a while, Dr Gerard turned back. He had been looking rather queer for some time. I couldsee he had fever. I wanted to go back with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’
　　‘What time was this?’
　　‘Oh! about four, I suppose.’
　　‘And the rest?’
　　‘We went on.’
　　‘Were you all together?’
　　‘At first. Then we split up.’ Sarah hurried on as though foreseeing the next question. ‘NadineBoynton and Mr Cope went one way and Carol, Lennox, Raymond and I went another.’
　　‘And you continued like that?’
　　‘Well—no. Raymond Boynton and I separated from the others. We sat down on a slab of rockand admired the wildness of the scenery. Then he went off and I stayed where I was for some timelonger. It was about half-past five when I looked at my watch and realized I had better get back. Ireached the camp at six o’clock. It was just about sunset.’
　　‘You passed Mrs Boynton on the way?’
　　‘I noticed she was still in her chair up on the ridge.’
　　‘That did not strike you as odd—that she had not moved?’
　　‘No, because I had seen her sitting there the night before when we arrived.’
　　‘I see. Continuez.’
　　‘I went into the marquee. The others were all there—except Dr Gerard. I washed and then cameback. They brought in dinner and one of the servants went to tell Mrs Boynton. He came runningback to say she was ill. I hurried out. She was sitting in her chair just as she had been, but as soon as Itouched her I realized she was dead.’
　　‘You had no doubt at all as to her death being natural?’
　　‘None whatever. I had heard that she suffered from heart trouble, though no specified diseasehad been mentioned.’
　　‘You simply thought she had died sitting there in her chair?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Without calling out for assistance?’
　　‘Yes. It happens that way sometimes. She might even have died in her sleep. She was quitelikely to have dozed off. In any case, all the camp was asleep most of the afternoon. No one wouldhave heard her unless she had called very loud.’
　　‘Did you form an opinion as to how long she had been dead?’
　　‘Well, I didn’t really think very much about it. She had clearly been dead some time.’
　　‘What do you call some time?’ asked Poirot.
　　‘Well—over an hour. It might have been much longer. The refraction of the rock would keepher body from cooling quickly.’
　　‘Over an hour? Are you aware, Mademoiselle King, that Raymond Boynton spoke to her only alittle over half an hour earlier, and that she was then alive and well?’
　　Now her eyes no longer met his. But she shook her head. ‘He must have made a mistake. It musthave been earlier than that.’
　　‘No, mademoiselle, it was not.’
　　She looked at him point-blank. He noticed again the firm set of her mouth.
　　‘Well,’ said Sarah, ‘I’m young and I haven’t got much experience of dead bodies—but I knowenough to be quite sure of one thing. Mrs Boynton had been dead at least an hour when I examinedher body!’
　　‘That,’ said Hercule Poirot unexpectedly, ‘is your story and you are going to stick to it! Thencan you explain why Mr Boynton should say his mother was alive when she was, in point of fact,dead?’
　　‘I’ve no idea,’ said Sarah. ‘They’re probably rather vague about times, all of them! They’re avery nervy family.’
　　‘On how many occasions, mademoiselle, have you spoken with them?’
　　Sarah was silent a moment, frowning a little.
　　‘I can tell you exactly,’ she said. ‘I talked to Raymond Boynton in the wagons-lits corridorcoming to Jerusalem. I had two conversations with Carol Boynton—one at the Mosque of Omar andone late that evening in my bedroom. I had a conversation with Mrs Lennox Boynton the followingmorning. That’s all — up to the afternoon of Mrs Boynton’s death, when we all went walkingtogether.’
　　‘You did not have any conversation with Mrs Boynton herself?’
　　Sarah flushed uncomfortably.
　　‘Yes. I exchanged a few words with her on the day she left Jerusalem.’ She paused and thenblurted out: ‘As a matter of fact, I made a fool of myself.’
　　‘Ah?’
　　The interrogation was so patent that, stiffly and unwillingly, Sarah gave an account of theconversation.
　　Poirot seemed interested and cross-examined her closely.
　　‘The mentality of Mrs Boynton—it is very important in this case,’ he said. ‘And you are anoutsider—an unbiased observer. That is why your account of her is very significant.’
　　Sarah did not reply. She still felt hot and uncomfortable when she thought of that interview.
　　‘Thank you, mademoiselle,’ said Poirot. ‘I will now converse with the other witnesses.’
　　Sarah rose. ‘Excuse me, M. Poirot, but if I might make a suggestion—’
　　‘Certainly. Certainly.’
　　‘Why not postpone all this until an autopsy can be made and you discover whether or not yoursuspicions are justified? I think all this is rather like putting the cart before the horse.’
　　Poirot waved a grandiloquent hand. ‘This is the method of Hercule Poirot,’ he announced.
　　Pressing her lips together, Sarah left the room.
第四章
　　第四章
　　莎拉•金盯着赫尔克里•波洛研究了好一阵子。她注意到了那椭圆形的脑袋、漂亮的髭须、英国绅士讲究的衣着以及可疑的黑色头发。一丝怀疑从她眼中掠过。
　　与波洛那感到好笑的讽刺目光相遇时，她的脸红了。
　　“抱歉，你刚才说什么？”她尴尬地问道。
　　“可以了吧！ [1] 用我最近刚学到的一个词，你把我‘浏览’了一遍，对吧？”
　　莎拉微微一笑，说：
　　“不管怎样，你可以对我做同样的事。”
　　“当然，我也这么做了。”
　　她目光锐利地扫了他一眼，他的语气中似乎有什么含义。但是波洛正在扬扬得意地捋着自己的胡子，于是莎拉心想（第二次这么想了）：“这个人是个江湖骗子！”
　　她的自信又恢复了一点，于是直了直身子，说：
　　“我觉得我不是很明白我们这次面谈的目的是什么。”
　　“杰拉德医生没告诉你吗？”
　　莎拉皱着眉头说道：“我不明白杰拉德医生的意思，他好像是认为——”
　　“丹麦有恶事发生 [2] ，”波洛引用道，“你看，我知道你们的莎士比亚。”
　　莎拉没有理会莎士比亚的事。
　　“你到底在乱说些什么？”她问道。
　　“好吧 [3] 。我们想知道案子的真相。”
　　“你是在说博因顿老夫人的死？”
　　“是的。”
　　“这不是无事生非吗？当然了，你，波洛先生，是个专家，自然会——”
　　波洛替她说了下去：
　　“我自然会怀疑有犯罪发生，只要我发现疑点。”
　　“呃，是的，也许吧。”
　　“对博因顿老夫人的死，你自己就没怀疑过吗？”
　　莎拉耸了耸肩。
　　“说真的，波洛先生，如果你去佩特拉的话，就会意识到，对一个心脏不好的老太太而言，旅行是一件艰苦的事情。”
　　“她的死对你来说是一件非常自然的事吗？”
　　“当然了。我无法理解杰拉德医生的态度。关于这件事，他一无所知。他发烧了，病了。当然我很佩服他丰富的医学知识，但是在这种情况下，他就没有用武之地了。如果他们对我的判断不满，大可以去耶路撒冷做尸检。”
　　波洛沉默了一会儿，又说：
　　“金小姐，有件事你并不知道。杰拉德医生还没告诉你。”
　　“什么事？”莎拉问。
　　“杰拉德医生的旅行药箱中，不见了一种药，毛地黄毒苷。”
　　“哦！”莎拉立刻就知道情况有了新的变化，同时，她也飞快地抓住了一个疑点。
　　“杰拉德医生很肯定吗？”
　　波洛耸了耸肩。
　　“你应该知道，小姐，医生说话通常都非常谨慎。”
　　“哦，当然了，这毋庸置疑。但是那个时候杰拉德医生的疟疾发作了。”
　　“的确如此。”
　　“他知道药是什么时候被偷走的吗？”
　　“他到达佩特拉的当天晚上，刚好打开过药箱，想找一些解热镇痛的药，因为他头疼得要命。第二天早上，当他把药放回去并关上药箱的时候，他几乎能确定所有的药都完整无缺。”
　　“几乎——”莎拉说。
　　波洛耸耸肩。
　　“是的，他有怀疑。任何诚实的人都会感到怀疑。”
　　莎拉点点头。“是的，我知道。要是绝对肯定的话，反而不可信了。但是，不管怎样，波洛先生，这些证据太脆弱了，依我看——”她截住了话头。波洛替她把话说完。
　　“依你看，我这次的调查很鲁莽！”
　　莎拉直直地看着他的脸。
　　“坦白说，是的。你确定，你不会像《罗马假日》所演的那样，扰乱别人的私生活吗？”
　　波洛笑了。“去扰乱一个家庭，插手人家的私生活，就因为赫尔克里•波洛想玩个小游戏自娱自乐？”
　　“我无意冒犯，但多少有点儿吧？”
　　“这么说，你是站在博因顿一家那边的，小姐？”
　　“我想是的。他们已经遭受了很多痛苦，不应该再继续受更多的苦了。”
　　“那么那位母亲呢？她很讨厌，像个暴君，很难打交道，死了比活着好？这样也……嗯？”
　　“要是你这么说的话，”莎拉脸红了。她顿了顿，继续说道，“我同意不应该把这种因素包括在内，那是另外一回事。”
　　“但都一样——有人就包括在内了！确切地说，就是你。可我不会！对我来说都是一样的。受害者也许是一个上帝的信徒，或者相反，是一个臭名昭著的恶魔，都不会影响我。
　　结果都是一样的。一个生命被夺走了！我经常这么说：我不允许谋杀！”
　　“谋杀？”莎拉倒吸一口凉气，“但是有什么证据吗？你的想象力可真丰富啊！杰拉德医生自己都无法确定！”
　　波洛平静地说：“但是还有其他证据，小姐。”
　　“什么证据？”她声音尖厉。
　　“死去的老太太手腕上有一个皮下注射器刺下去的针眼，还有，在耶路撒冷一个寂静而晴朗的夜晚，我去关自己卧室的窗户时，无意中听到了一句话。想知道是什么话吗，金小姐？我听到雷蒙德•博因顿先生这么说：‘你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！’”
　　他看到她的脸慢慢失去血色。
　　她说：“你听到了？”
　　“是的。”
　　女孩直视前方。
　　最后，她开口道：“只有你才会留意这种话！”
　　他表示同意。
　　“是的，这就是我。这种事时常发生。现在，你该明白我为什么觉得要调查一番了吧？”
　　莎拉静静地说：“我想你是对的。”
　　“啊！那你会帮我吗？”
　　“当然。”
　　她的声音里不带任何感情，眼神冷冷地迎着他的目光。
　　波洛点点头。“谢谢你，小姐。现在，我请你用自己的话准确地给我讲一下，在那个特别的日子里，你能记起来的事。”
　　莎拉考虑了一会儿。
　　“让我想想。早上，我出去远足。博因顿家没人和我们在一起。午饭时我看到了他们。
　　我们进去的时候他们已经快吃完了。博因顿老夫人的脾气好得反常。”
　　“我明白，平时她可不怎么和蔼可亲。”
　　“不仅仅是不和蔼。”莎拉做了个鬼脸。
　　接着，她描述了博因顿老夫人如何放家人去自由行动的事。
　　“这也很反常？”
　　“没错，通常她都把他们留在身边，不让他们离开。”
　　“你认为，也许是她忽然受到良心谴责——心软了？”
　　“不，我不这么认为。”莎拉坦白地说。
　　“那你那时是怎么想的呢？”
　　“我很困惑，我怀疑她在耍类似‘猫捉老鼠’的把戏。”
　　“可以详细说一下吗，小姐？”
　　“猫故意放开老鼠，然后再抓住，以此为乐。我想博因顿老夫人就是这种心理。我以为她要玩什么新花样了。”
　　“后来发生了什么，小姐？”
　　“博因顿一家出发了——”
　　“所有人吗？”
　　“不是，最小的孩子，吉内芙拉留下了，她母亲让她去休息。”
　　“她愿意吗？”
　　“不愿意，但没用。母亲让她做什么，她就得做什么。其他人走了之后，杰拉德医生让我也一起去——”
　　“那是什么时候？”
　　“大概三点半。”
　　“那时候老夫人在哪儿？”
　　“娜丁——博因顿少夫人，已经在洞穴外的椅子上安顿她坐下了。”
　　“请继续。”
　　“转过弯，杰拉德医生和我赶上了大部队。大家一起走着。过了一会儿，杰拉德医生就回去了。有那么一阵子，他看着有些不对劲，我能看出他在发烧。我想陪他一起回去，不过他说不用。”
　　“那是什么时候？”
　　“哦，我想是大约四点钟。”
　　“其他人呢？”
　　“我们继续往前走。”
　　“你们全都在一起吗？”
　　“一开始是，后来大家分开了，”莎拉好像提前猜到了他的下一个问题，急急地说着，“娜丁•博因顿和柯普先生走一条路，卡罗尔、雷诺克斯、雷蒙德和我走另外一条。”
　　“你们一直是这样吗？”
　　“不，不是的。后来雷蒙德和我离开了大家，我们坐在平坦的岩石上欣赏荒野的美景。
　　之后他回去了，我又独自坐了一会儿。等我看手表时，已经大约五点半了，我觉得该回去了。六点的时候我回到了营地，正好是日落时分。”
　　“在回去的路上，你见过博因顿老夫人吗？”
　　“我注意到她仍然坐在山脊的椅子里。”
　　“你不觉得奇怪吗——她都没挪过地方？”
　　“不觉得，因为前一天晚上到达的时候，我就看见她坐在那儿。”
　　“明白了，请继续 [4] 。”
　　“我走进大帐篷，大家都在——除了杰拉德医生。我梳洗一番，回来时，他们端来了饭碗，其中一个仆人去请博因顿老夫人。他飞奔而回，说她病了。我急忙出去。她仍然像之前那样坐在椅子里，但是我一碰到她就知道她已经死了。”
　　“你完全没有怀疑，认定她就是自然死亡？”
　　“毫无怀疑。我听说她有心脏病，但是不知道具体的病名。”
　　“你认为，她只不过是坐在椅子里死了而已？”
　　“是的。”
　　“没有呼救？”
　　“是的。这种事时有发生。她甚至有可能是在睡梦中死去的。她也许只睡了一小会儿。
　　不管怎样，几乎整个下午，营地里的所有人都在睡觉，除非她声音很大，否则没人能听见。”
　　“你认为她死了多长时间？”
　　“这个，我没有多考虑。她确实已经死了一段时间了。”
　　“你所说的‘一段时间’是多久？”波洛问。
　　“唔，超过一小时，也有可能更久。岩石对阳光的反射，会让她的尸体不至于冷得太快。”
　　“超过一小时？你知道吗，金小姐，雷蒙德•博因顿半小时前还跟她说过话，而那时候她还活得好好的。”
　　她躲开了他的视线，摇了摇头。“他一定是搞错了。肯定比那时候早。”
　　“不是的，小姐，不是。”
　　她直直地看着他，他注意到，她的嘴角又紧紧地抿了起来。
　　“这个，”莎拉说，“我还年轻，在验尸方面没什么经验，但有一件事我很肯定。当我检查博因顿老夫人的尸体时，她死了至少有一小时了！”
　　“这个，”赫尔克里•波洛出人意料地说，“是你的说法，你也会一直坚持这么说的！那么，你能否解释一下，为什么博因顿先生在他母亲已经死亡的时间，声称她还活着呢？”
　　“我不知道，”莎拉说，“也许他们所有人都没什么时间观念。他们是很神经的一家子！”
　　“你跟他们说过几次话，小姐？”
　　莎拉沉默了一会儿，眉毛微微一皱。
　　“我可以明确地告诉你，”她说，“我跟雷蒙德•博因顿在去耶路撒冷的火车走廊上说过话。跟卡罗尔•博因顿说过两次话——一次在奥马尔清真寺，另一次是在那天半夜，在我卧室里。第二天早上我跟雷诺克斯•博因顿的夫人说过话。在博因顿老夫人去世的那天下午，所有人都一起外出散步了。就这些。”
　　“你没跟博因顿老夫人说过话吗？”
　　莎拉的脸因尴尬而变红了。
　　“说过。她离开耶路撒冷那天我跟她说过两句，”她顿了顿，接着冲口而出，“事实上，我出洋相了。”
　　“啊？”
　　询问者的耐性好极了，所以尽管莎拉不情愿，但还是生硬地讲述了那段对话。
　　波洛似乎很有兴趣，仔细地追问了好多。
　　“博因顿老夫人的心理状态，在这个案子中非常重要，”他说，“而你是个局外人，一个不抱偏见的观察者，所以你对她的看法至关重要。”
　　莎拉没有作答。想起那次对话，她仍然觉得烦躁不安。
　　“谢谢你，小姐，”波洛说，“现在，我要跟其他证人谈一谈了。”
　　莎拉站起身。“抱歉，波洛先生，不知道我能否提一个建议——”
　　“当然，当然。”
　　“为什么不等到尸检完成，知道你的怀疑是否有道理再进行这些询问呢？我认为现在这样更像是本末倒置。”
　　波洛夸张地挥了挥手。“这就是赫尔克里•波洛的方式。”他宣布。
　　莎拉双唇紧闭，离开了房间。
　　[1]原文为法语。
　　[2]莎士比亚在《哈姆雷特》中写道：“丹麦有恶事发生。”直译是丹麦地区有东西正在腐烂或发出恶臭。
　　[3]原文为法语。
　　[4]原文为法语。
Chapter 5
　　Chapter 5
　　Lady Westholme entered the room with the assurance of a transatlantic liner coming into dock.
　　Miss Amabel Pierce, an indeterminate craft, followed in the liner’s wake and sat down in aninferior make of chair slightly in the background.
　　‘Certainly, M. Poirot,’ boomed Lady Westholme. ‘I shall be delighted to assist you by anymeans in my power. I have always considered that in matters of this kind one has a public duty toperform—’
　　When Lady Westholme’s public duty had held the stage for some minutes, Poirot was adroitenough to get in a question.
　　‘I have a perfect recollection of the afternoon in question,’ replied Lady Westholme. ‘MissPierce and I will do all we can to assist you.’
　　‘Oh, yes,’ sighed Miss Pierce, almost ecstatically. ‘So tragic, was it not? Dead—just like that—in the twinkle of an eye!’
　　‘If you will tell me exactly what occurred on the afternoon in question?’
　　‘Certainly,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘After we had finished lunch I decided to take a brief siesta.
　　The morning excursion had been somewhat fatiguing. Not that I was really tired—I seldom am. I donot really know what fatigue is. One has so often, on public occasions, no matter what one reallyfeels—’
　　Again an adroit murmur from Poirot.
　　‘As I say, I was in favour of a siesta. Miss Pierce agreed with me.’
　　‘Oh, yes,’ sighed Miss Pierce. ‘And I was terribly tired after the morning. Such a dangerousclimb — and although interesting, most exhausting. I’m afraid I’m not quite as strong as LadyWestholme.’
　　‘Fatigue,’ said Lady Westholme, ‘can be conquered like everything else. I make a point of nevergiving in to my bodily needs.’
　　Poirot said:
　　‘After lunch, then, you two ladies went to your tents?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Mrs Boynton was then sitting at the mouth of her cave?’
　　‘Her daughter-in-law assisted her there before she herself went off.’
　　‘You could both see her?’
　　‘Oh, yes,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘She was opposite, you know—only, of course, a little way alongand up above.’
　　Lady Westholme elucidated the statement.
　　‘The caves opened on to a ledge. Below that ledge were some tents. Then there was a smallstream and across that stream was the big marquee and some other tents. Miss Pierce and I had tentsnear the marquee. She was on the right side of the marquee and I was on the left. The opening of ourtents faced the ledge, but of course it was some distance away.’
　　‘Nearly two hundred yards, I understand.’
　　‘Possibly.’
　　‘I have here a plan,’ said Poirot, ‘concocted with the help of the dragoman, Mahmoud.’
　　Lady Westholme remarked that in that case it was probably wrong!
　　‘That man is grossly inaccurate. I have checked his statements from my Baedeker. Several timeshis information was definitely misleading.’
　　‘According to my plan,’ said Poirot, ‘the cave next to Mrs Boynton’s was occupied by her son,Lennox, and his wife. Raymond, Carol and Ginevra Boynton had tents just below but more to theright—in fact, almost opposite the marquee. On the right of Ginevra Boynton’s was Dr Gerard’s tentand next to that again that of Miss King. On the other side of the stream—next to the marquee on theleft—you and Mr Cope had tents. Miss Pierce’s, as you mentioned, was on the right of the marquee.
　　Is that correct?’
　　Lady Westholme admitted grudgingly that as far as she knew it was.
　　‘I thank you. That is perfectly clear. Pray continue, Lady Westholme.’
　　Lady Westholme smiled graciously on him and went on:
　　‘At about quarter to four I strolled along to Miss Pierce’s tent to see if she were awake yet andfelt like a stroll. She was sitting in the doorway of the tent reading. We agreed to start in about half anhour when the sun was less hot. I went back to my tent and read for about twenty-five minutes. ThenI went along and joined Miss Pierce. She was ready and we started out. Everyone in the camp seemedasleep—there was no one about, and seeing Mrs Boynton sitting up there alone, I suggested to MissPierce that we should ask her if she wanted anything before we left.’
　　‘Yes, you did. Most thoughtful of you, I considered,’ murmured Miss Pierce.
　　‘I felt it to be my duty,’ said Lady Westholme with a rich complacency.
　　‘And then for her to be so rude about it!’ exclaimed Miss Pierce.
　　Poirot looked inquiring.
　　‘Our path passed just under the ledge,’ explained Lady Westholme, ‘and I called up to her,saying that we were going for a stroll and could we do anything for her before we went. Do youknow, M. Poirot, absolutely the only answer she gave us was a grunt! A grunt! She just looked at usas though we were—as though we were dirt!’
　　‘Disgraceful it was!’ said Miss Pierce, flushing.
　　‘I must confess,’ said Lady Westholme, reddening a little, ‘that I made then a somewhatuncharitable remark.’
　　‘I think you were quite justified,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘Quite—under the circumstances.’
　　‘What was this remark?’ asked Poirot.
　　‘I said to Miss Pierce that perhaps she drank! Really her manner was most peculiar. It had beenall along. I thought it possible that drink might account for it. The evils of alcoholic indulgence, as Ivery well know—’
　　Dexterously, Poirot steered the conversation away from the drink question.
　　‘Had her manner been very peculiar on this particular day? At lunch-time, for instance?’
　　‘N-No,’ said Lady Westholme, considering. ‘No, I should say then that her manner had beenfairly normal—for an American of that type, that is to say,’ she added condescendingly.
　　‘She was very abusive to that servant,’ said Miss Pierce.
　　‘Which one?’
　　‘Not very long before we started out.’
　　‘Oh! yes, I remember, she did seem extraordinarily annoyed with him! Of course,’ went onLady Westholme, ‘to have servants about who cannot understand a word of English is very trying,but what I say is that when one is travelling one must make allowances.’
　　‘What servant was this?’ asked Poirot.
　　‘One of the Bedouin servants attached to the camp. He went up to her—I think she must havesent him to fetch her something, and I suppose he brought the wrong thing—I don’t really know whatit was—but she was very angry about it. The poor man slunk away as fast as he could, and she shookher stick at him and called out.’
　　‘What did she call out?’
　　‘We were too far away to hear. At least I didn’t hear anything distinctly, did you, Miss Pierce?’
　　‘No, I didn’t. I think she’d sent him to fetch something from her youngest daughter’s tent—orperhaps she was angry with him for going into her daughter’s tent—I couldn’t say exactly.’
　　‘What did he look like?’
　　Miss Pierce, to whom the question was addressed, shook her head vaguely.
　　‘Really, I couldn’t say. He was too far away. All these Arabs look alike to me.’
　　‘He was a man of more than average height,’ said Lady Westholme, ‘and wore the usual nativehead-dress. He had on a pair of very torn and patched breeches—really disgraceful they were—andhis puttees were wound most untidily—all anyhow! These men need discipline!’
　　‘You could point the man out among the camp servants?’
　　‘I doubt it. We didn’t see his face—it was too far away. And, as Miss Pierce says, really theseArabs look all alike.’
　　‘I wonder,’ said Poirot thoughtfully, ‘what it was he did to make Mrs Boynton so angry?’
　　‘They are very trying to the patience sometimes,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘One of them took myshoes away, though I had expressly told him—by pantomime too—that I preferred to clean my shoesmyself.’
　　‘Always I do that, too,’ said Poirot, diverted for a moment from his interrogation. ‘I takeeverywhere my little shoe-cleaning outfit. Also, I take a duster.’
　　‘So do I.’ Lady Westholme sounded quite human.
　　‘Because these Arabs they do not remove the dust from one’s belongings—’
　　‘Never! Of course one has to dust one’s things three or four times a day—’
　　‘But it is well worth it.’
　　‘Yes, indeed. I cannot STAND dirt!’
　　Lady Westholme looked positively militant.
　　She added with feeling:
　　‘The flies—in the bazaars—terrible!’
　　‘Well, well,’ said Poirot, looking slightly guilty. ‘We can soon inquire from this man what itwas that irritated Mrs Boynton. To continue with your story?’
　　‘We strolled along slowly,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘And then we met Dr Gerard. He wasstaggering along and looked very ill. I could see at once he had fever.’
　　‘He was shaking,’ put in Miss Pierce. ‘Shaking all over.’
　　‘I saw at once he had an attack of malaria coming on,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘I offered to comeback with him and get him some quinine, but he said he had his own supply with him.’
　　‘Poor man,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘You know it always seems so dreadful to me to see a doctor ill. Itseems all wrong somehow.’
　　‘We strolled on,’ continued Lady Westholme. ‘And then we sat down on a rock.’
　　Miss Pierce murmured: ‘Really—so tired after the morning’s exertion—the climbing—’
　　‘I never feel fatigue,’ said Lady Westholme firmly. ‘But there was no point in going farther. Wehad a very good view of all the surrounding scenery.’
　　‘Were you out of sight of the camp?’
　　‘No, we were sitting facing towards it.’
　　‘So romantic,’ murmured Miss Pierce. ‘A camp pitched in the middle of a wilderness of rose-red rocks.’
　　She sighed and shook her head.
　　‘That camp could be much better run than it is,’ said Lady Westholme. Her rocking-horsenostrils dilated. ‘I shall take up the matter with Castle’s. I am not at all sure that the drinking water isboiled as well as filtered. It should be. I shall point that out to them.’
　　Poirot coughed and led the conversation quickly away from the subject of drinking water.
　　‘Did you see any other members of the party?’ he inquired.
　　‘Yes. The elder Mr Boynton and his wife passed us on their way back to the camp.’
　　‘Were they together?’
　　‘No, Mr Boynton came first. He looked a little as though he had had a touch of the sun. He waswalking as though he were slightly dizzy.’
　　‘The back of the neck,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘One must protect the back of the neck! I always weara thick silk handkerchief.’
　　‘What did Mr Lennox Boynton do on his return to the camp?’ asked Poirot.
　　For once Miss Pierce managed to get in first before Lady Westholme could speak.
　　‘He went right up to his mother, but he didn’t stay long with her.’
　　‘How long?’
　　‘Just a minute or two.’
　　‘I should put it at just over a minute myself,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘Then he went on into hiscave and after that he went down to the marquee.’
　　‘And his wife?’
　　‘She came along about a quarter of an hour later. She stopped a minute and spoke to us—quitecivilly.’
　　‘I think she’s very nice,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘Very nice indeed.’
　　‘She is not so impossible as the rest of the family,’ allowed Lady Westholme.
　　‘You watched her return to the camp?’
　　‘Yes. She went up and spoke to her mother-in-law. Then she went into her cave and brought outa chair, and sat by her talking for some time—about ten minutes, I should say.’
　　‘And then?’
　　‘Then she took the chair back to the cave and went down to the marquee where her husbandwas.’
　　‘What happened next?’
　　‘That very peculiar American came along,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘Cope, I think his name is.
　　He told us that there was a very good example of the debased architecture of the period just round thebend of the valley. He said we ought not to miss it. Accordingly, we walked there. Mr Cope had withhim quite an interesting article on Petra and the Nabateans.’
　　‘It was all most interesting,’ declared Miss Pierce.
　　Lady Westholme continued:
　　‘We strolled back to the camp, it being then about twenty minutes to six. It was growing quitechilly.’
　　‘Mrs Boynton was still sitting where you had left her?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Did you speak to her?’
　　‘No. As a matter of fact I hardly noticed her.’
　　‘What did you do next?’
　　‘I went to my tent, changed my shoes and got out my own packet of China tea. I then went tothe marquee. The dragoman was there and I directed him to make some tea for Miss Pierce andmyself with the tea I had brought and to make quite sure that the water with which it was made wasboiling. He said that dinner would be ready in about half an hour—the boys were laying the table atthe time—but I said that made no difference.’
　　‘I always say a cup of tea makes all the difference,’ murmured Miss Pierce vaguely.
　　‘Was there anyone in the marquee?’
　　‘Oh, yes. Mr and Mrs Lennox Boynton were sitting at one end reading. And Carol Boynton wasthere too.’
　　‘And Mr Cope?’
　　‘He joined us at our tea,’ said Miss Pierce. ‘Though he said tea-drinking wasn’t an Americanhabit.’
　　Lady Westholme coughed.
　　‘I became just a little afraid that Mr Cope was going to be a nuisance—that he might fastenhimself upon me. It is a little difficult sometimes to keep people at arm’s length when one istravelling. I find they are inclined to presume. Americans, especially, are sometimes rather dense.’
　　Poirot murmured suavely:
　　‘I am sure, Lady Westholme, that you are quite capable of dealing with situations of that kind.
　　When travelling acquaintances are no longer of any use to you, I am sure you are an adept atdropping them.’
　　‘I think I am capable of dealing with most situations,’ said Lady Westholme complacently.
　　The twinkle in Poirot’s eye was quite lost upon her.
　　‘If you will just conclude your recital of the day’s happenings?’ murmured Poirot.
　　‘Certainly. As far as I can remember, Raymond Boynton and the red-haired Boynton girl camein shortly afterwards. Miss King arrived last. Dinner was then ready to be served. One of the servantswas dispatched by the dragoman to announce the fact to old Mrs Boynton. The man came runningback with one of his comrades in a state of some agitation and spoke to the dragoman in Arabic.
　　There was some mention of Mrs Boynton being taken ill. Miss King offered her services. She wentout with the dragoman. She came back and broke the news to the members of Mrs Boynton’s family.’
　　‘She did it very abruptly,’ put in Miss Pierce. ‘Just blurted it out. I think myself it ought to havebeen done more gradually.’
　　‘And how did Mrs Boynton’s family take the news?’ asked Poirot.
　　For once both Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce seemed a little at a loss. The former said at lastin a voice lacking its usual self-assurance:
　　‘Well—really—it is difficult to say. They—they were very quiet about it.’
　　‘Stunned,’ said Miss Pierce.
　　She offered the word more as a suggestion than as a fact.
　　‘They all went out with Miss King,’ said Lady Westholme. ‘Miss Pierce and I very sensiblyremained where we were.’
　　A faintly wistful look was observable in Miss Pierce’s eye at this point.
　　‘I detest vulgar curiosity!’ continued Lady Westholme.
　　The wistful look became more pronounced. It was clear that Miss Pierce had had perforce tohate vulgar curiosity, too!
　　‘Later,’ concluded Lady Westholme, ‘the dragoman and Miss King returned. I suggested thatdinner should be served immediately to the four of us, so that the Boynton family could dine later inthe marquee without the embarrassment of strangers being present. My suggestion was adopted andimmediately after the meal I retired to my tent. Miss King and Miss Pierce did the same. Mr Cope, Ibelieve, remained in the marquee as he was a friend of the family and thought he might be of someassistance to them. That is all I know, M. Poirot.’
　　‘When Miss King had broken the news, all the Boynton family accompanied her out of themarquee?’
　　‘Yes—no, I believe, now that you come to mention it, that the red-haired girl stayed behind.
　　Perhaps you can remember, Miss Pierce?’
　　‘Yes, I think—I am quite sure she did.’
　　Poirot asked: ‘What did she do?’
　　Lady Westholme stared at him.
　　‘What did she do, M. Poirot? She did not do anything as far as I can remember.’
　　‘I mean was she sewing—or reading—did she look anxious—did she say anything?’
　　‘Well, really —’ Lady Westholme frowned. ‘She — er — she just sat there as far as I canremember.’
　　‘She twiddled her fingers,’ said Miss Pierce suddenly. ‘I remember noticing—poor thing, Ithought, it shows what she’s feeling! Not that there was anything to show in her face, you know—just her hands turning and twisting.’
　　‘Once,’ went on Miss Pierce conversationally, ‘I remember tearing up a pound note that way—not thinking of what I was doing. “Shall I catch the first train and go to her?” I thought (it was agreat-aunt of mine—taken suddenly ill). “Or shall I not?” And I couldn’t make up my mind one wayor the other and there, I looked down, and instead of the telegram I was tearing up a pound note—apound note—into tiny pieces!’
　　Miss Pierce paused dramatically.
　　Not entirely approving of this sudden bid for the limelight on the part of her satellite, LadyWestholme said coldly: ‘Is there anything else, M. Poirot?’
　　With a start, Poirot seemed to come out of a brown study. ‘Nothing—nothing—you have beenmost clear—most definite.’
　　‘I have an excellent memory,’ said Lady Westholme with satisfaction.
　　‘One last little demand, Lady Westholme,’ said Poirot. ‘Please continue to sit as you are sitting—without looking round. Now would you be so kind as to describe to me just what Miss Pierce iswearing today—that is if Miss Pierce does not object?’
　　‘Oh, no! not in the least!’ twittered Miss Pierce.
　　‘Really, M. Poirot, is there any object—’
　　‘Please be so kind as to do as I ask, madame.’
　　Lady Westholme shrugged her shoulders and then said with a rather bad grace:
　　‘Miss Pierce has on a striped brown and white cotton dress, and is wearing with it a Sudanesebelt of red, blue and beige leather. She is wearing beige silk stockings and brown glacé strap shoes.
　　There is a ladder in her left stocking. She has a necklace of cornelian beads and one of bright royalblue beads—and is wearing a brooch with a pearl butterfly on it. She has an imitation scarab ring onthe third finger of her right hand. On her head she has a double terai of pink and brown felt.’
　　She paused—a pause of quiet competence. Then:
　　‘Is there anything further?’ she asked coldly.
　　Poirot spread out his hands in a wild gesture.
　　‘You have my entire admiration, madame. Your observation is of the highest order.’
　　‘Details rarely escape me.’
　　Lady Westholme rose, made a slight inclination of her head, and left the room. As Miss Piercewas following her, gazing down ruefully at her left leg, Poirot said:
　　‘A little moment, please, mademoiselle?’
　　‘Yes?’ Miss Pierce looked up, a slightly apprehensive look upon her face.
　　Poirot leaned forward confidentially.
　　‘You see this bunch of wild flowers on the table here?’
　　‘Yes,’ said Miss Pierce—staring.
　　‘And you noticed that when you first came into the room I sneezed once or twice?’
　　‘Yes?’
　　‘Did you notice if I had just been sniffing those flowers?’
　　‘Well—really—no—I couldn’t say.’
　　‘But you remember my sneezing?’
　　‘Oh yes, I remember that!’
　　Ah, well—no matter. I wondered, you see, if these flowers might induce the hay fever. Nomatter!’
　　‘Hay fever?’ cried Miss Pierce. ‘I remember a cousin of mine was a martyr to it! She alwayssaid that if you sprayed your nose daily with a solution of boracic—’
　　With some difficulty Poirot shelved the cousin’s nasal treatment and got rid of Miss Pierce. Heshut the door and came back into the room with his eyebrows raised.
　　‘But I did not sneeze,’ he murmured. ‘So much for that. No, I did not sneeze.’
第五章
　　第五章
　　韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人就像一艘横渡大西洋的客轮，自信满满地走进了房间。
　　安贝尔•皮尔斯小姐像一条摇摇摆摆的小舟，跟随着客轮的航行轨迹走了进来，在后面一把质量较差的椅子里轻轻落座。
　　“当然了，波洛先生，”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人说，“我一定会竭尽所能为你提供帮助。我一直认为，一个人应该对这种事情尽一份社会责任——”
　　爵士夫人就社会责任的话题说了好一会儿之后，波洛巧妙地提出了问题。
　　“那天下午的事，我记得很清楚，”爵士夫人回答，“皮尔斯小姐和我会尽最大努力来帮助你的。”
　　“唉，是啊，”皮尔斯小姐心醉神迷地叹了口气，“真是悲惨，不是吗？那个老夫人就那样忽然死了。”
　　“可否告诉我，那天下午到底发生了什么事吗？”
　　“当然了，”爵士夫人说，“吃完午饭，我打算睡一会儿。因为上午的远足让我觉得有些累。啊，不，不是真的累了。其实，我从不知疲惫为何物。有的人一参加公众活动就疲惫，不管你的真实感受如何——”
　　波洛又巧妙地提示了一声。
　　“我刚刚说了，我想睡午觉，皮尔斯小姐也同意。”
　　“哦，是的，”皮尔斯小姐说，“早上真是把我累坏了。爬山实在是太危险了，虽然有趣，但让人精疲力竭。恐怕我不如爵士夫人那么强健。”
　　“疲惫，”爵士夫人说，“跟其他事情一样，都是可以克服的。我绝对不会让自己屈服于肉体的需求。”
　　波洛说：
　　“午饭之后，你们两位是各自回帐篷了吗？”
　　“是的。”
　　“那时候，博因顿老夫人就坐在洞穴门口吗？”
　　“她儿媳出去散步前，安置她坐在那儿的。”
　　“你们两个都看见她了？”
　　“哦，是啊，”皮尔斯小姐说，“她在我对面，当然，有点远，而且位置挺高。”
　　韦斯特霍姆夫人解释道：
　　“洞穴口朝着一块岩台敞开着，岩台下面有一些帐篷营地，还有一条小河，对面是大帐篷和其他帐篷。皮尔斯小姐和我都住得离大帐篷很近，她在右边，我在左边。我们的帐篷入口都对着岩台，当然，中间有一段距离。”
　　“据我所知，有两百码？”
　　“大概是吧。”
　　“我有张地图，”波洛说，“是向导马哈茂德帮忙绘制的。”
　　韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人说，如果是这样的话，那很有可能是错的！
　　“那家伙说话不可靠！我把他说的话，跟我的旅游指南逐一对照过，有好几个地方他都解释错了。”
　　“根据我这张图，”波洛说，“博因顿老夫人旁边的洞穴里，住着她的大儿子雷诺克斯和妻子，雷蒙德、卡罗尔和吉内芙拉都住在下面的帐篷里，往右一点，对着大帐篷。吉内芙拉•博因顿右边的帐篷是杰拉德医生的，再旁边，是金小姐的。在小溪对面，左边的帐篷是你和柯普先生的。如你所说，皮尔斯小姐的帐篷则在大帐篷的右边，对吗？”
　　爵士夫人不情愿地承认，就她所知，是这样。
　　“谢谢。这就清楚了。请继续说吧，爵士夫人。”
　　爵士夫人礼貌地微微一笑，接着说：
　　“大约差一刻四点的时候，我想看看皮尔斯小姐是否醒了，要不要出去散步，所以就去了她的帐篷。她正坐在帐篷口看书。我们约定半小时之后出发，那时候不会太热。然后，我回到自己的帐篷，看了二十五分钟的书，之后就去找皮尔斯小姐。她已经准备好了，所以我们马上就出发了。所有人好像都在营地里睡觉，附近一个人影都没有。我看到博因顿老夫人一个人坐在那上面，就向皮尔斯小姐建议说，我们走之前问问她需不需要什么东西。”
　　“是的，确实如此。我那时候就在想，你可真体贴。”皮尔斯小姐低声说道。
　　“我觉得这是我的责任。”韦斯特霍姆夫人自鸣得意地说道。
　　“可是她那么粗鲁！”皮尔斯小姐大声说。
　　波洛露出一副询问的表情。
　　“我们经过岩石下面的路，”爵士夫人解释道，“我对着上面的她大声说我们要去散步，问她在我们离开之前有什么需要帮忙的没有。你知道吗，波洛先生，她唯一的回答就是一声‘哼’！她那样看着我们，好像我们——我们很肮脏！”
　　“太无礼了！”皮尔斯小姐的脸都红了。
　　“我得说，”爵士夫人的脸也有点红，“我也说了不好听的话。”
　　“你说了什么？”波洛问。
　　“我对皮尔斯小姐说，也许她喝醉了！她的神态真的非常奇怪。她一直都是那副样子。
　　所以我认为可能是喝了酒造成的。酗酒的坏处，我可是清楚得很——”
　　波洛巧妙地避开了酗酒的话题。
　　“那天她的神态一直很奇怪吗？比如，吃午饭的时候？”
　　“哦，不，”爵士夫人一边想着一边说，“不，我得说，那天中午她很正常——就是美国人的那种做派。”她轻蔑地补充道。
　　“她骂了那个仆人一顿。”皮尔斯小姐说。
　　“哪个仆人？”
　　“就在我们离开前不久——”
　　“哦，没错，我想起来了。她确实对那个仆人大发雷霆。当然了，”爵士夫人接着说，“仆人一句英语都听不懂，确实让人生气，但是旅行的时候你只能忍一忍。”
　　“哪个仆人？”波洛问道。
　　“营地那些贝都因仆人里的一个。他到她那儿——我想她肯定是让他取某个东西，可能他拿错了——我不知道具体是怎么回事——总之，她气得要命，吓得他立马逃跑了。她在他身后挥动着拐杖，大喊大叫。”
　　“她说了些什么？”
　　“太远了听不见。起码我没听见。你呢，皮尔斯小姐？”
　　“我也没听见。我猜，有可能是她指使他去她小女儿的帐篷里取什么东西，或者，也许是他进了她女儿的帐篷惹她生气了。我不知道。”
　　“他长什么样？”
　　被问到话的皮尔斯小姐茫然地摇了摇头。
　　“我不清楚。他离我很远，在我看来，阿拉伯人都长得差不多。”
　　“他比普通人略高，”爵士夫人说，“戴着当地人经常戴的那种头巾，裤子破破烂烂的都是补丁——他们太有失体面了——绑腿也打得很马虎。穿着实在太不讲究了！应该好好管教一下。”
　　“你能从营地里的仆人之中认出这个人来吗？”
　　“恐怕很难。我们没见到他的脸——太远了。并且，正如皮尔斯小姐所说，所有阿拉伯人都长得一个样。”
　　波洛沉思着说：“不知道他做了什么让老夫人如此生气。”
　　“他们有时候的确很考验人的耐心，”爵士夫人说，“我明明告诉一个仆人，我要自己擦鞋，还冲他打手势，可他还是把我的鞋子拿走了。”
　　“我也是。”波洛这会儿换了个话题，“我走到哪儿都会带着清理鞋子的设备，还会带一块擦鞋布。”
　　“我也是。”爵士夫人的声音很通情达理。
　　“因为阿拉伯人从来不掸随身物品上面的灰尘。”
　　“没错！我一天怎么也要掸个三四次。”
　　“但是就应该这么做。”
　　“没错，就是这样，我受不了灰尘！”
　　爵士夫人看上去很富有战斗精神。
　　她又激动地补充了一句：
　　“苍蝇——在市场上到处都是——太可怕了！”
　　“没错，没错，”波洛有些歉疚地说，“我们很快就能找这个人问一问博因顿老夫人生气的缘由了。请接着说吧。”
　　“我们慢慢地散着步，”韦斯特霍姆夫人说，“遇到了杰拉德医生。他走路踉踉跄跄的，看上去很不好。我立刻就知道他在发烧。”
　　“他在发抖，”皮尔斯小姐插嘴道，“浑身哆嗦。”
　　“我一眼就看出来他得疟疾了，”爵士夫人说，“我提出要跟他一起回营地，给他拿奎宁，但他说他有。”
　　“可怜的人，”皮尔斯小姐说，“对我来说，看到医生生病是一件可怕的事。好像哪里不对劲。”
　　“我们继续散步，”爵士夫人继续说道，“后来就坐在一块岩石上休息。”
　　皮尔斯小姐嘟囔着说：“没错，早上的远足——爬山，太累了……”
　　“我从不知疲惫，”爵士夫人断然说道，“但是再往前走也没什么意思了，我们把周围的景色都看完了。”
　　“你们能看到营地吗？”
　　“能，我们正对着营地坐着。”
　　“那景致浪漫极了，”皮尔斯小姐嘀咕着，“营地就在荒野里的一堆玫瑰色的岩石中间。”
　　她叹了口气，摇摇头。
　　“那个营地还可以经营得更好，”爵士夫人说，木马般的鼻孔扇动着，“我要再跟卡斯尔旅行社谈一谈，我不确定饮用水是不是过滤过，是否烧开了。应该这样，我要跟他们谈谈。”
　　波洛咳嗽了一声，赶紧把话题从饮用水的问题上引开。
　　“你们看到那家人中的其他人了吗？”
　　“是的。博因顿夫人的大儿子和他妻子在回营地的路上遇见了我们。”
　　“他们是一起的吗？”
　　“不是，博因顿先生先回来的。他好像有点中暑，走起路来摇摇晃晃的，可能有点眩晕。”
　　“后颈那里，”皮尔斯小姐说，“一定要好好保护。我一直围着一条厚厚的丝巾。”
　　“雷诺克斯•博因顿先生在回营地的路上做了些什么？”
　　皮尔斯小姐第一次抢在爵士夫人前头开了口。
　　“他直接去找他母亲了，但没待多久。”
　　“那是多久？”
　　“一两分钟。”
　　“我得说，是一分钟多一点。”爵士夫人说，“之后他回了一趟自己的帐篷，然后朝大帐篷走去。”
　　“他妻子呢？”
　　“她过了十五分钟才回来，停下来跟我们说了几句话——相当有礼貌。”
　　“我觉得她人很好，”皮尔斯小姐说，“真不错。”
　　“她跟这家里的其他人不一样。”爵士夫人表示同意。
　　“你们看到她回营地了吗？”
　　“看到了。她爬上去跟她婆婆说话，然后走进洞穴搬出椅子，坐在那个老太太身边，跟她说了大概十分钟的话。”
　　“然后呢？”
　　“然后，她把椅子搬回洞穴，去下面她丈夫所在的大帐篷那儿了。”
　　“之后发生了什么？”
　　“那个奇怪的美国人——好像叫柯普——过来了，”爵士夫人说，“他跟我们说，转过山谷的拐角有一个地方，可以看作是堕落的现代建筑的范本，他说我们不应该错过。所以我们就去了。柯普先生随身带了一篇关于佩特拉和纳巴泰人的有趣的文章。”
　　“很有趣。”皮尔斯小姐说。
　　韦斯特霍姆夫人继续说：
　　“大约五点四十分，我们溜达回营地，那时候天气已经转凉了。”
　　“博因顿老夫人还像你们离开时那样坐着吗？”
　　“对。”
　　“你们跟她说话了吗？”
　　“没有。其实，我几乎没注意到她。”
　　“后来你们做了什么？”
　　“我回到帐篷换鞋，带着我的中国茶叶去了大帐篷。导游正好在那儿，我让他用我的茶叶给我和皮尔斯小姐泡茶，并且要保证水是开的。他说半个小时之后就会开饭——仆人们正在摆桌子——但是我说没关系。”
　　“我常说，一杯茶就能改变一切。”皮尔斯小姐含含混混地嘟囔着。
　　“大帐篷里还有别人吗？”
　　“哦，有的。雷诺克斯夫妇坐在角落里看书，卡罗尔•博因顿也在那儿。”
　　“柯普先生呢？”
　　“他和我们一起喝茶，”皮尔斯小姐说，“虽然他说美国人不习惯喝茶。”
　　爵士夫人咳嗽了一声。
　　“我开始有点担心柯普先生会不好应付——他有可能会缠着我不放。当你旅行时，想要跟别人保持距离是有些困难的。我发现他们会逐渐放肆起来。尤其是美国人。”
　　波洛礼貌地说：
　　“爵士夫人，我确信你肯定很善于处理这种状况。一旦旅伴对你没什么用了，我相信你会果断地抛下他们。”
　　“哦，我相信大部分情况我都能处理好。”爵士夫人得意地说。
　　波洛那闪烁狡黠的目光对她完全不起作用。
　　“请把后面的事说完，可以吗？”波洛咕哝道。
　　“好的。我记得没过多久，雷蒙德•博因顿和他们家那个红头发的女孩也走进了帐篷里。金小姐是最后一个到的。那时候晚饭已经准备好了，向导派一个仆人去叫博因顿老夫人。那人是跟一个同伴一起跑回来的，有些激动地跟向导说着什么，其中一个说老夫人病了。金小姐说可以去帮忙，就和向导一起出去了。回来之后，她对博因顿一家宣布了老太太的死讯。”
　　“她说得很唐突，”皮尔斯小姐插嘴道，“就那样脱口而出。我认为她应该缓缓地说出来。”
　　“博因顿一家听到这个消息后，反应如何？”波洛问。
　　这一回，爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐都有些困惑了。最后，前者开口了，但明显没有刚才那么自信。
　　“这个——真的——不好说。他们——他们听到后都很平静。”
　　“惊呆了。”皮尔斯小姐说。
　　这话与其说是在陈述一个事实，不如说是一种推测。
　　“他们跟金小姐一起出去了，”爵士夫人说，“而皮尔斯小姐和我则明智地待在了原地。”
　　皮尔斯小姐的眼睛里闪现出了一丝渴望。
　　“我讨厌低级的好奇心！”韦斯特霍姆爵士夫人又说。
　　渴望的眼神更强烈了，看得出来，当时的皮尔斯小姐是不得已才表现得很讨厌“低级的好奇心的”。
　　爵士夫人继续说着：“后来，向导和金小姐回来了。我建议应该马上为我们四个人开饭。这样，博因顿一家晚一点回大帐篷吃晚饭的时候，就不会因为有陌生人在场而感到尴尬了。他们听从了我的建议。吃完饭，我马上就回了自己的帐篷，金小姐和皮尔斯小姐也是。我认为柯普先生仍留在帐篷那儿，因为他是博因顿家的朋友，想留下帮忙。我知道的就是这些了，波洛先生。”
　　“金小姐公布了死亡的消息之后，博因顿一家所有人都和她一起出去了？”
　　“是的，不，这一说我倒想起来了。那个红头发的女孩没走。也许你还记得吧，皮尔斯小姐？”
　　“是的，我想——我确定她没走。”
　　波洛问：“她在做什么？”
　　爵士夫人瞪着他。
　　“她在做什么，波洛先生？就我所能记得的，她什么都没做。”
　　“我是说，她在缝衣服？或者在读书？她看上去焦虑吗？她有没有说什么？”
　　“呃，其实——”爵士夫人皱着眉头，“她——呃——我记得她就在那儿坐着。”
　　“她在捻手指，”忽然，皮尔斯小姐说，“我记得我注意到了——可怜的，我觉得这说明她有感觉！她脸上虽然没有表现出什么来，就是双手翻过来翻过去，绞拧在一起。”
　　“有一次，”皮尔斯小姐继续滔滔不绝地说着，“我就像她那样撕了一张一英镑的钞票——当时完全不知道自己在做什么。‘我要不要坐上火车去她那儿呢？’我心想。（她是我的一位姑婆，忽然间病倒了。）‘要不要呢？’我一直拿不定主意，这时我一低头，发现手里拿的不是电报，而是一张一英镑的钞票，而且已经被我撕碎了。一英镑啊！”
　　皮尔斯小姐戏剧性地打住了。
　　爵士夫人不太满意自己的跟班忽然抢了风头，于是冷冷地说道：“还有什么事吗，波洛先生？”
　　波洛吃了一惊，从沉思中惊醒过来。“没有了，没什么了。你们说得很明白——非常清楚。”
　　“我有超群的记忆力。”爵士夫人自得地说道。
　　“最后，我还有一个小请求，爵士夫人，”波洛说，“请继续坐在这儿，不要看别的地方，现在麻烦你向我描述一下皮尔斯小姐都穿了什么吧——如果皮尔斯小姐不反对的话。”
　　“哦，不，没问题。”皮尔斯小姐嘁嘁喳喳地说着。
　　“说真的，波洛先生，我看不出有什么理由这样做——”
　　“请你按我说的做吧，夫人。”
　　爵士夫人耸了耸肩，勉为其难地说了起来：
　　“皮尔斯小姐穿着一条棕白相间的棉质裙，配着红蓝灰的苏丹皮带。脚穿米色丝袜和棕色亮面系带鞋。左腿上的丝袜有一个地方抽丝了。她戴了一串红玉髓的珠链，其中夹杂着一颗闪亮的蓝色珠子。她还戴了一枚镶嵌着珍珠的蝴蝶状胸针。右手的中指上戴着一枚仿造的圣甲虫戒指，头戴一顶红褐相间的双层宽檐儿毡帽。”
　　她停顿下来——显示非凡能力的停顿。然后，她冷冷地问：
　　“还有别的事吗？”
　　波洛夸张地摊开双手。
　　“我对你很是钦佩，夫人。你的观察力的确超群。”
　　“任何细节都逃不过我的眼睛。”
　　爵士夫人站起身，微微点点头，离开了房间。皮尔斯小姐跟在她后面，沮丧地盯着自己的左腿。这时，波洛说道：
　　“请等一等，小姐。”
　　“有事吗？”皮尔斯小姐抬起头，脸上现出一丝不安。
　　波洛探身向前，有一种透漏机密的口吻问道：
　　“你看到桌子上面的这束野花了吗？”
　　“看到了。”皮尔斯小姐一边说，一边瞪着波洛。
　　“你刚进房间的时候，我打了一两个喷嚏，你注意到没？”“怎么了？”
　　“你注意到我闻那些花了吗？”
　　“这个——其实——没有，我不知道。”
　　“但你记得我打过喷嚏？”
　　“是的，我记得。”
　　“啊，好啦，没什么了。你瞧，我只是在想这些花会不会引起枯草热 [1] 。没什么事了！”
　　“枯草热？”皮尔斯小姐惊叫道，“我记得我一个远房亲戚就是这么死了的！她经常说她每天都要用硼酸清洗鼻子……”
　　波洛好不容易才截住皮尔斯小姐的远亲关于治疗鼻子的话头，并把她给打发走。他关上门，眉头紧锁，回到房间。
　　“其实我根本没打喷嚏，”他嘟囔着，“唉，根本就没打。”
　　[1]枯草热又称花粉热，是一种因吸入外界花粉抗原而引起的春夏季过敏性疾病。
Chapter 6
　　Chapter 6
　　Lennox Boynton came into the room with a quick, resolute step. Had he been there, Dr Gerard wouldhave been surprised at the change in the man. The apathy was gone. His bearing was alert—althoughhe was plainly nervous. His eyes had a tendency to shift rapidly from point to point about the room.
　　‘Good morning, M. Boynton.’ Poirot rose and bowed ceremoniously. Lennox respondedsomewhat awkwardly. ‘I much appreciate your giving me this interview.’
　　Lennox Boynton said rather uncertainly: ‘Er—Colonel Carbury said it would be a good thing—advised it—some formalities—he said.’
　　‘Please sit down, M. Boynton.’
　　Lennox sat down on the chair lately vacated by Lady Westholme. Poirot went onconversationally:
　　‘This has been a great shock to you, I am afraid?’
　　‘Yes, of course. Well, no, perhaps not… We always knew that my mother’s heart was notstrong.’
　　‘Was it wise, under those circumstances, to allow her to undertake such an arduous expedition?’
　　Lennox Boynton raised his head. He spoke not without a certain sad dignity.
　　‘My mother, M.—er—Poirot, made her own decisions. If she made up her mind to anything itwas no good our opposing her.’
　　He drew in his breath sharply as he said the last words. His face suddenly went rather white.
　　‘I know well,’ admitted Poirot, ‘that elderly ladies are sometimes headstrong.’
　　Lennox said irritably:
　　‘What is the purpose of all this? That is what I want to know. Why have all these formalitiesarisen?’
　　‘Perhaps you do not realize, Mr Boynton, that in cases of sudden and unexplained deaths,formalities must necessarily arise.’
　　Lennox said sharply: ‘What do you mean by “unexplained”?’
　　Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
　　‘There is always the question to be considered: Is a death natural—or might it perhaps besuicide?’
　　‘Suicide?’ Lennox Boynton stared.
　　Poirot said lightly:
　　‘You, of course, would know best about such possibilities. Colonel Carbury, naturally, is in thedark. It is necessary for him to decide whether to order an inquiry—an autopsy—all the rest of it. AsI was on the spot and as I have much experience of these matters, he suggested that I should make afew inquiries and advise him upon the matter. Naturally he does not wish to cause you inconvenienceif it can be helped.’
　　Lennox Boynton said angrily: ‘I shall wire to our Consul in Jerusalem.’
　　Poirot said non-committally: ‘You are quite within your rights in doing so, of course.’
　　There was a pause. Then Poirot said, spreading out his hands:
　　‘If you object to answering my questions—’
　　Lennox Boynton said quickly: ‘Not at all. Only—it seems—all so unnecessary.’
　　‘I comprehend. I comprehend perfectly. But it is all very simple, really. A matter, as they say, ofroutine. Now, on the afternoon of your mother’s death, M. Boynton, I believe you left the camp atPetra and went for a walk?’
　　‘Yes. We all went—with the exception of my mother and my youngest sister.’
　　‘Your mother was then sitting in the mouth of her cave?’
　　‘Yes, just outside it. She sat there every afternoon.’
　　‘Quite so. You started—when?’
　　‘Soon after three, I should say.’
　　‘You returned from your walk—when?’
　　‘I really couldn’t say what time it was—four o’clock, five o’clock, perhaps.’
　　‘About an hour or two hours after you set out?’
　　‘Yes—about that, I should think.’
　　‘Did you pass anyone on your way back?’
　　‘Did I what?’
　　‘Pass anyone. Two ladies sitting on a rock, for instance.’
　　‘I don’t know. Yes, I think I did.’
　　‘You were, perhaps, too absorbed in your thoughts to notice?’
　　‘Yes, I was.’
　　‘Did you speak to your mother when you got back to the camp?’
　　‘Yes—yes, I did.’
　　‘She did not then complain of feeling ill?’
　　‘No—no, she seemed perfectly all right.’
　　‘May I ask what exactly passed between you?’
　　Lennox paused a minute.
　　‘She said I had come back soon. I said, yes, I had.’ He paused again in an effort ofconcentration. ‘I said it was hot. She—she asked me the time—said her wrist-watch had stopped. Itook it from her, wound it up, set it, and put it back on her wrist.’
　　Poirot interrupted gently: ‘And what time was it?’
　　‘Eh?’ said Lennox.
　　‘What time was it when you set the hands of the wrist-watch?’
　　‘Oh, I see. It—it was twenty-five minutes to five.’
　　‘So, you do know exactly the time you returned to the camp!’ said Poirot gently.
　　Lennox flushed.
　　‘Yes, what a fool I am! I’m sorry, M. Poirot, my wits are all astray, I’m afraid. All this worry—’
　　Poirot chimed in quickly: ‘Oh! I understand — I understand perfectly! It is all of the mostdisquieting! And what happened next?’
　　‘I asked my mother if she wanted anything. A drink—tea, coffee, etc. She said no. Then I wentto the marquee. None of the servants seemed to be about, but I found some soda water and drank it. Iwas thirsty. I sat there reading some old numbers of the Saturday Evening Post. I think I must havedozed off.’
　　‘Your wife joined you in the marquee?’
　　‘Yes, she came in not long after.’
　　‘And you did not see your mother again alive?’
　　‘No.’
　　‘She did not seem in any way agitated or upset when you were talking to her?’
　　‘No, she was exactly as usual.’
　　‘She did not refer to any trouble or annoyance with one of the servants?’
　　Lennox stared.
　　‘No, nothing at all.’
　　‘And that is all you can tell me?’
　　‘I am afraid so—yes.’
　　‘Thank you, Mr Boynton.’
　　Poirot inclined his head as a sign that the interview was over. Lennox did not seem very willingto depart. He stood hesitating by the door. ‘Er—there’s nothing else?’
　　‘Nothing. Perhaps you would be so good as to ask your wife to come here?’
　　Lennox went slowly out. On the pad beside him Poirot wrote L.B. 4.35 p.m.
第六章
　　第六章
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿脚步迅速而坚定地走进房间。如果杰拉德医生在这儿，一定会为这个人的变化而感到吃惊。那副漠不关心的神态消失殆尽。他的神情很警觉——尽管一眼就能看出来他很紧张。他的眼睛快速地转来转去，扫视着房间。
　　“早上好，博因顿先生。”波洛站起身，隆重地低头致意。而雷诺克斯则有些笨拙地回了礼。
　　“非常感谢你答应过来见我。”波洛说。
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿犹豫着说：“呃，卡伯里上校说这样做比较好，所以他建议我来，说是例行公事。”
　　“博因顿先生，请坐。”
　　雷诺克斯坐在了爵士夫人刚刚坐过的椅子上。波洛继续用聊天的语气说道：
　　“恐怕，这件事让你非常震惊吧？”
　　“是的。当然了。哦，不，也许不是……我们一直都知道母亲的心脏有问题。”
　　“在这种情形下，还让她进行一次艰苦的旅行，似乎不太明智吧？”
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿抬起头，语调中含有一种带着悲伤的尊严。
　　“波——波洛先生，是我母亲决定的。只要她决定了，我们反对也没用。”
　　说最后几个字的时候，他深吸一口气，脸色忽然变得异常苍白。
　　“我很明白，”波洛承认道，“上了年纪的女人有时候会很固执。”
　　雷诺克斯烦躁地说：
　　“叫我们来这儿问话是为了什么，这是我想知道的。为什么会需要这种例行公事？”
　　“也许你并不知道，博因顿先生，在意外以及突然死亡这种案件中，这种手续都是必需的。”
　　雷诺克斯尖声问道：“你说‘意外死亡’是什么意思？”
　　波洛耸耸肩。
　　“总有需要考虑的问题：自然死亡，还是自杀。”
　　“自杀？”雷诺克斯•博因顿呆住了。
　　波洛温和地说：
　　“当然了，关于这些可能性你知道得非常清楚，但卡伯里上校却蒙在鼓里。他需要做个决定，是否应该进行调查——尸检或者其他方法。恰好我在这里，对这类事情比较有经验，所以他想让我做个调查，在这件事上给他一些建议。当然，如果有可能，他自然不希望给你们带来麻烦。”
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿愤愤地说：“我要发电报给耶路撒冷的美国领事馆。”
　　波洛不置可否地说：“当然，你有权这么做。”
　　接着，是一阵沉默。之后，波洛摊开双手，说道：
　　“要是你拒绝回答我的问题——”
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿赶紧说道：“不是的。只是……好像……没那个必要。”
　　“我明白，我完全了解。但是这一切都很简单，真的。就像他们说的，其实就是例行公事。那么，在你母亲去世的那天下午，博因顿先生，你离开佩特拉的营地去散步了，是吗？”
　　“是的，我们都去了——除了母亲和小妹。”
　　“那时候你母亲是坐在洞穴的门口吗？”
　　“是的，就在洞口外面。她每天下午都坐在那儿。”
　　“唔。你们是什么时候出发的？”
　　“我想大概是三点刚过。”
　　“你几点回营地的？”
　　“我真的说不上来是几点——也许是四点或五点。”
　　“你们出去了一两个小时？”
　　“是的——我想大概是。”
　　“你回来的路上遇到什么人了吗？”
　　“我什么？”
　　“你碰见什么人了吗？比如，坐在岩石上的两位女士？”
　　“不知道。我想是碰到过。”
　　“也许是你太专心思考了，没有注意到？”
　　“是的。”
　　“回到营地之后，你跟你母亲说过话吗？”
　　“是的，说过。”
　　“她没有抱怨说感觉不舒服吗？”
　　“没有，她看上去挺不错的。”
　　“可否请你告诉我，你们说了些什么？”
　　雷诺克斯沉默了片刻。
　　“她说我回来得很快，我说是的。”他再次停顿，努力回想，“我说天气真热。她——她问我时间——说她的腕表停了。我从她手腕上取下手表，上了弦，对好时间，又帮她戴好。”
　　波洛礼貌地打断了他的话。
　　“那是几点？”
　　“嗯？”雷诺克斯问道。
　　“你对表的时候是几点？”
　　“哦，是——是四点二十五分。”
　　“所以，你知道自己究竟是几点回到营地的了！”波洛轻声说道。
　　雷诺克斯的脸红了。
　　“是的，我太蠢了！抱歉，波洛先生，我一直都迷迷糊糊的，担心——”
　　波洛飞快地接过话茬儿：“啊，我明白——非常理解。这件事让人心烦意乱。后来发生了什么？”
　　“我问母亲需要些什么，要不要喝点茶或咖啡。她说不要。之后我去了大帐篷。四周好像没有仆人，但我找到一些苏打水喝了。我很口渴。我坐在那儿看了几张旧的《星期六晚邮报》，之后打了个盹儿。”
　　“后来，你妻子过来找你了？”
　　“是的，没过多久她就来了。”
　　“你母亲去世之前，你又见过她没有？”
　　“没有。”
　　“你跟她说话的时候，她有没有不安或者烦躁？”
　　“没有，跟平时一样。”
　　“没有说起哪个仆人给她惹了麻烦或者让她生气吗？”
　　雷诺克斯睁大了眼。
　　“没有，她完全没提过。”
　　“你所能告诉我的就是这些了吗？”
　　“是的，恐怕是。”
　　“谢谢你，博因顿先生。”
　　波洛点点头，表示会面结束了。雷诺克斯好像不怎么愿意离开，他站在门口迟疑了片刻。“呃——没别的事了吗？”
　　“没有了。请让你的妻子来一趟，可以吗？”
　　雷诺克斯缓步走出房间。波洛在一旁的便签纸上写道：“L.B.，下午四点三十五分。”
Chapter 7
　　Chapter 7
　　Poirot looked with interest at the tall, dignified young woman who entered the room. He rose andbowed to her politely. ‘Mrs Lennox Boynton? Hercule Poirot, at your service.’
　　Nadine Boynton sat down. Her thoughtful eyes were on Poirot’s face.
　　‘I hope you do not mind, madame, my intruding on your sorrow in this way?’
　　Her eyes did not waver. She did not reply at once. Her eyes remained steady and grave. At lastshe gave a sigh and said: ‘I think it is best for me to be quite frank with you, M. Poirot.’
　　‘I agree with you, madame.’
　　‘You apologized for intruding upon my sorrow. That sorrow, M. Poirot, does not exist and it isidle to pretend that it does. I had no love for my mother-in-law and I cannot honestly say that I regrether death.’
　　‘Thank you, madame, for your plain speaking.’
　　Nadine went on: ‘Still, although I cannot pretend sorrow, I can admit to another feeling—remorse.’
　　‘Remorse?’ Poirot’s eyebrows went up.
　　‘Yes. Because, you see, it was I who brought about her death. For that I blame myself bitterly.’
　　‘What is this you are saying, madame?’
　　‘I am saying that I was the cause of my mother-in-law’s death. I was acting, as I thought,honestly—but the result was unfortunate. To all intents and purposes, I killed her.’
　　Poirot leaned back in his chair. ‘Will you be so kind as to elucidate this statement, madame?’
　　Nadine bent her head.
　　‘Yes, that is what I wish to do. My first reaction, naturally, was to keep my private affairs tomyself, but I see that the time has come when it would be better to speak out. I have no doubt, M.
　　Poirot, that you have often received confidences of a somewhat intimate nature?’
　　‘That, yes.’
　　‘Then I will tell you quite simply what occurred. My married life, M. Poirot, has not beenparticularly happy. My husband is not entirely to blame for that—his mother’s influence over him hasbeen unfortunate—but I have been feeling for some time that my life was becoming intolerable.’
　　She paused and then went on:
　　‘On the afternoon of my mother-in-law’s death I came to a decision. I have a friend—a verygood friend. He has suggested more than once that I should throw in my lot with him. On thatafternoon I accepted his proposal.’
　　‘You decided to leave your husband?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Continue, madame.’
　　Nadine said in a lower voice:
　　‘Having once made my decision, I wanted to—to establish it as soon as possible. I walked hometo the camp by myself. My mother-in-law was sitting alone, there was no one about, and I decided tobreak the news to her there and then. I got a chair—sat down by her and told her abruptly what I haddecided.’
　　‘She was surprised?’
　　‘Yes, I am afraid it was a great shock to her. She was both surprised and angry—very angry.
　　She—she worked herself into quite a state about it! Presently I refused to discuss the matter anylonger. I got up and walked away.’ Her voice dropped. ‘I—I never saw her again alive.’
　　Poirot nodded his head slowly. He said: ‘I see.’
　　Then he said: ‘You think her death was the result of the shock?’
　　‘It seems to me almost certain. You see, she had already over-exerted herself considerablygetting to this place. My news, and her anger at it, would do the rest…I feel additionally guiltybecause I have had a certain amount of training in illness and so I, more than anyone else, ought tohave realized the possibility of such a thing happening.’
　　Poirot sat in silence for some minutes, then he said:
　　‘What exactly did you do when you left her?’
　　‘I took the chair I had brought out back into my cave, then I went down to the marquee. Myhusband was there.’
　　Poirot watched her closely as he said:
　　‘Did you tell him of your decision? Or had you already told him?’
　　There was a pause, an infinitesimal pause, before Nadine said: ‘I told him then.’
　　‘How did he take it?’
　　She answered quietly: ‘He was very upset.’
　　‘Did he urge you to reconsider your decision?’
　　She shook her head.
　　‘He—he didn’t say very much. You see, we had both known for some time that something likethis might happen.’
　　Poirot said: ‘You will pardon me, but—the other man was, of course, Mr Jefferson Cope?’
　　She bent her head. ‘Yes.’
　　There was a long pause, then, without any change of voice, Poirot asked: ‘Do you own ahypodermic syringe, madame?’
　　‘Yes—no.’
　　His eyebrows rose.
　　She explained: ‘I have an old hypodermic amongst other things in a travelling medicine chest,but it is in our big luggage which we left in Jerusalem.’
　　‘I see.’
　　There was a pause, then she said, with a shiver of uneasiness: ‘Why did you ask me that, M.
　　Poirot?’
　　He did not answer the question. Instead he put one of his own. ‘Mrs Boynton was, I believe,taking a mixture containing digitalis?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　He thought that she was definitely watchful now.
　　‘That was for her heart trouble?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Digitalis is, to some extent, a cumulative drug?’
　　‘I believe it is. I do not know very much about it.’
　　‘If Mrs Boynton had taken a big overdose of digitalis—’
　　She interrupted him quickly but with decision.
　　‘She did not. She was always most careful. So was I if I measured the dose for her.’
　　‘There might have been an overdose in this particular bottle. A mistake of the chemist whomade it up?’
　　‘I think that is very unlikely,’ she replied quietly.
　　‘Ah, well: the analysis will soon tell us.’
　　Nadine said: ‘Unfortunately the bottle was broken.’
　　Poirot eyed her with sudden interest.
　　‘Indeed. Who broke it?’
　　‘I’m not quite sure. One of the servants, I think. In carrying my mother-in-law’s body into hercave, there was a good deal of confusion and the light was very poor. A table got knocked over.’
　　Poirot eyed her steadily for a minute or two.
　　‘That,’ he said, ‘is very interesting.’
　　Nadine Boynton shifted wearily in her chair.
　　‘You are suggesting, I think, that my mother-in-law did not die of shock, but of an overdose ofdigitalis?’ she said, and went on: ‘That seems to me most improbable.’
　　Poirot leaned forward.
　　‘Even when I tell you that Dr Gerard, the French physician who was staying in the camp, hadmissed an appreciable quantity of a preparation of digitoxin from his medicine chest?’
　　Her face grew very pale. He saw the clutch of her hand on the table. Her eyes dropped. She satvery still. She was like a Madonna carved in stone.
　　‘Well, madame,’ said Poirot at last, ‘what have you to say to that?’
　　The seconds ticked on but she did not speak. It was quite two minutes before she raised herhead, and he started a little when he saw the look in her eyes.
　　‘M. Poirot, I did not kill my mother-in-law. That you know! She was alive and well when I lefther. There are many people who can testify to that! Therefore, being innocent of the crime, I canventure to appeal to you. Why must you mix yourself up in this business? If I swear to you on myhonour that justice and only justice has been done, will you not abandon this inquiry? There has beenso much suffering—you do not know. Now that at last there is peace and the possibility of happiness,must you destroy it all?’
　　Poirot sat up very straight. His eyes shone with a green light. ‘Let me be clear, madame; whatare you asking me to do?’
　　‘I am telling you that my mother-in-law died a natural death and I am asking you to accept thatstatement.’
　　‘Let us be definite. You believe that your mother-in-law was deliberately killed, and you areasking me to condone murder!’
　　‘I am asking you to have pity!’
　　‘Yes—on someone who had no pity!’
　　‘You do not understand—it was not like that.’
　　‘Did you commit the crime yourself, madame, that you know so well?’
　　Nadine shook her head. She showed no signs of guilt. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘She was alivewhen I left her.’
　　‘And then—what happened? You know—or you suspect?’
　　Nadine said passionately:
　　‘I have heard, M. Poirot, that once, in that affair of the Orient Express, you accepted an officialverdict of what had happened?’
　　Poirot looked at her curiously. ‘I wonder who told you that?’
　　‘Is it true?’
　　He said slowly: ‘That case was—different.’
　　‘No. No, it was not different! The man who was killed was evil’—her voice dropped—‘as shewas…’
　　Poirot said: ‘The moral character of the victim has nothing to do with it! A human being whohas exercised the right of private judgement and taken the life of another human being is not safe toexist amongst the community. I tell you that! I, Hercule Poirot!’
　　‘How hard you are!’
　　‘Madame, in some ways I am adamant. I will not condone murder! That is the final word ofHercule Poirot.’
　　She got up. Her dark eyes flashed with sudden fire.
　　‘Then go on! Bring ruin and misery into the lives of innocent people! I have nothing more tosay.’
　　‘But I, I think, madame, that you have a lot to say…’
　　‘No, nothing more.’
　　‘But, yes. What happened, madame, after you left your mother-in-law? Whilst you and yourhusband were in the marquee together?’
　　She shrugged her shoulders. ‘How should I know?’
　　‘You do know—or you suspect.’
　　She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I know nothing, M. Poirot.’
　　Turning, she left the room.
第七章
　　第七章
　　波洛饶有兴致地看着这个高挑而端庄的年轻女人走进了房间。他起身点头致意。“是雷诺克斯•博因顿夫人吧，我是赫尔克里•波洛，愿为您效劳。”
　　娜丁•博因顿坐下，若有所思地看着波洛。
　　“抱歉夫人，在你伤心的时候打扰你了，希望你不要介意。”
　　她仍然目不转睛地看着他，并没有立刻回答，眼神沉稳而庄严。最后，她叹了口气，说：“我想，波洛先生，我最好跟你直说。”
　　“我也希望如此，夫人。”
　　“你刚刚说，为在我伤心的时候打扰而感到抱歉。但是波洛先生，我并不悲伤，装成伤心的样子也没用。我对我婆婆完全没有感情，所以我不能撒谎说我对她的死感到伤心。”
　　“谢谢你这么坦白，夫人。”
　　娜丁接着说：“虽然我不会装得很伤心，但我得说，我有另外一种情绪——后悔。”
　　“后悔？”波洛的眉毛扬了起来。
　　“是的。因为，是我造成她死亡的。对于这一点，我非常自责。”
　　“你这话是什么意思，夫人？”
　　“我是说，我是我婆婆死亡的原因。我原以为做人诚实总是没错的，但结果却非常不幸。无论从哪一点来看，都是我杀死了我婆婆。”
　　波洛往椅子背上一倚。“你可否解释一下，夫人？”
　　娜丁低下头。
　　“是的，我正打算解释。当然了，我的第一反应就是把这个当成自己的私事，不对任何人说。可是，我发现还是说出来比较好。波洛先生，你听过别人对你吐露心声吧？”
　　“没错，听过。”
　　“那我就简单说说发生了什么。波洛先生，我结婚后的生活不是很美满，我丈夫不能为此负全责——很不幸，他母亲对他影响很深——但是，有段时间我感觉越来越无法忍受自己的生活了。”
　　她顿了顿，继续说道：
　　“我婆婆去世的那天下午，我做了个决定。我有个朋友——非常要好的朋友。他不止一次地建议我跟他一起生活。那天下午，我接受了他的建议。”
　　“你决定离开你丈夫？”
　　“是的。”
　　“请继续，夫人。”
　　娜丁压低了声音，说：
　　“既然做了决定，我就想——想尽快付诸实施。我回到营地时，我婆婆正独自坐在那儿，周围一个人也没有。我决定趁这个机会告诉她这件事。我搬了一把椅子，坐在她身边，把我的想法直接告诉了她。”
　　“她吃了一惊？”
　　“是的，这事让她深受打击。她惊讶、愤怒——勃然大怒。我不想再跟她争执下去，就起身走开了，”她降低了声音，“我——她去世之前，我再也没见过她。”
　　波洛缓缓地点点头，说：“明白了。”
　　然后，他问道：“你觉得她是因为遭受了打击而去世的？”
　　“应该就是因为这个。她来这里旅行就已经疲劳至极。我又告诉了她这件事，她对此十分生气，所以……我感到格外内疚，因为我接受过一些护士训练，对疾病略知一二，我应该比其他人都更清楚这种事是有可能发生的。”
　　波洛默不作声地坐了一会儿，然后说道：
　　“你离开她之后，做了些什么？”
　　“我把搬出来的椅子放回洞穴，然后就到大帐篷那儿去了，我丈夫在那里。”
　　波洛凝视着她。
　　“你是去告诉他你的决定，还是早就告诉过他了？”
　　沉默，仅仅是瞬间的沉默，娜丁说道：“我是那时候告诉他的。”
　　“他有什么反应？”
　　她静静地说：“他心烦意乱。”
　　“他有没有请你再重新考虑一下？”
　　她摇了摇头。
　　“他——他没再说什么。我们都很清楚，这种事迟早会发生。”
　　波洛说：“对不起——另一个男人肯定是杰弗逊•柯普先生了？”
　　她低下了头。“是的。”
　　沉默了好一阵子之后，波洛开口了，语气并没有什么变化。
　　“你有一个皮下注射器，对吗，夫人？”
　　“有……不，没有。”
　　他抬了抬眉毛。
　　她解释说：“我的旅行药箱里有一个旧的皮下注射器，但是留在了大旅行袋中，放在耶路撒冷了。”
　　“明白了。”
　　她沉默了一会儿，问了个问题，声音因为不安而微微颤抖。
　　“你为什么要问这个，波洛先生？”
　　他没有回答，而是反问道：“据我所知，博因顿夫人生前服用一种含毛地黄的药物，是吗？”
　　“是的。”
　　他发现，她听到这里明显警觉起来。
　　“是治疗心脏病的吗？”
　　“是的。”
　　“在某种程度上来说，毛地黄是一种渐加型药物？”
　　“我想是的。但我对此并不是很了解。”
　　“如果博因顿老夫人摄入了大量的毛地黄——”
　　她断然地打断了他的话。
　　“她没有。她通常十分小心。所以我给她分配称重的时候也很小心。”
　　“也许某一瓶里的毛地黄过量了，有没有可能是药剂师给弄错了？”
　　“我觉得基本没有这种可能性。”她静静地回答道。
　　“啊，好吧，化验分析就可以告诉我们这些。”
　　娜丁说：“很不幸，瓶子摔碎了。”
　　波洛忽然饶有兴致地看着她。
　　“谁干的？”
　　“我不清楚，也许是某个仆人。把我婆婆的尸体抬进洞穴的时候乱成了一团，光线也很昏暗。有张桌子被撞翻了。”
　　波洛定定地看了她一会儿。
　　“这样啊，真有意思。”
　　娜丁•博因顿疲惫地调整了一下坐姿。
　　“我想，你是在暗示，我婆婆不是因为受到打击才去世的，而是服用了过量的毛地黄，对吧？照我看，这不可能。”
　　波洛探身向前。
　　“杰拉德医生——营地里的那个法国医生——发现自己的药箱里少了大量的毛地黄毒苷。就算我告诉你这件事，你还是坚持自己的看法吗？”
　　她的脸色顿时苍白起来，放在桌子上的双手紧紧地握在一起。她垂下眼帘，一动不动地坐在那儿，就像一尊圣母马利亚石雕。
　　“夫人，”波洛开了口，“关于这一点，你有什么想说的吗？”
　　时间一秒一秒地过去了，但是她依然沉默不语。两三分钟后，她抬起头。看到她的眼神，波洛不由得微微一惊。
　　“波洛先生，我没有杀我婆婆！我离开她的时候，她还活得好好的。有很多人都可以作证！因为我是清白的，所以才有勇气向你提出这一恳求。你为什么要干涉这件事呢？如果我用我的名誉向你发誓，不管是谁做了这件事，这个人完全是伸张了正义，你还不肯放弃调查吗？我们遭受了太多痛苦……你不明白。现在好不容易有了安宁和幸福的萌芽，你一定要毁了这一切吗？”
　　波洛挺直了腰，眼睛里闪着绿光。“我需要弄明白一件事。你究竟想让我做什么，夫人？”
　　“我想和你说的是，我婆婆是自然死亡，请你接受这个说法。”
　　“让我们说得明确些。你相信你婆婆是被人蓄意谋杀的，而你在要求我纵容凶手！”
　　“求求你。”
　　“我懂了——你要我同情那个没有同情心的人。”
　　“你不明白，事情不是这样的。”
　　“你这么了解这件事，夫人，是你做的吗？”
　　娜丁摇了摇头，脸上没有一丝愧疚的表情。“不是，”她静静地说，“我走的时候，她仍然活着。”
　　“后来呢？发生了什么？你知道什么——或者，你怀疑什么？”
　　娜丁激动地说道：
　　“我听说，波洛先生，那一次，在东方快车谋杀案中，你接受了陪审团的判决，是吗？”
　　波洛好奇地看着她：“是谁告诉你的？”
　　“是真的吗？”
　　他缓缓地说：“那个案子……和这次不同。”
　　“不，不，没什么不一样！被杀的同样是一个满身罪恶的人，”她的声音低了下去，“她也是……”
　　波洛说：“这跟被害人的品德一点关系也没有。用个人的准则去作判断，夺去别人的生命，这样的人在社会中是危险的。我，赫尔克里•波洛，绝不允许！”
　　“你太固执了！”
　　“在某些方面我的确很固执，夫人。我不会饶过凶手的！这是赫尔克里•波洛最后的回答。”
　　她站起来，黑色的眼睛里突然燃起了火焰。
　　“随你的便！把无辜的人推进水深火热之中吧。我无话可说了。”
　　“但是，夫人，我，我认为你还有很多要说的……”
　　“没有了。”
　　“不，你有的。你离开你婆婆之后，发生了什么事？你跟你丈夫一起在大帐篷的时候？”
　　她耸耸肩。“我怎么知道？”
　　“你的确知道，或者你怀疑什么。”
　　她直直地盯着他的眼睛。“我什么都不知道，波洛先生。”
　　然后，她离开了房间。
Chapter 8
　　Chapter 8
　　After noting on his pad—N.B. 4.40—Poirot opened the door and called to the orderly whom ColonelCarbury had left at his disposal, an intelligent man with a good knowledge of English. He asked himto fetch Miss Carol Boynton.
　　He looked with some interest at the girl as she entered, at the chestnut hair, the poise of the headon the long neck, the nervous energy of the beautifully shaped hands.
　　He said: ‘Sit down, mademoiselle.’
　　She sat down obediently. Her face was colourless and expressionless. Poirot began with amechanical expression of sympathy to which the girl acquiesced without any change of expression.
　　‘And now, mademoiselle, will you recount to me how you spent the afternoon of the day inquestion?’
　　Her answer came promptly, raising the suspicion that it had already been well rehearsed.
　　‘After luncheon we all went for a stroll. I returned to the camp—’
　　Poirot interrupted. ‘A little minute. Were you all together until then?’
　　‘No, I was with my brother Raymond and Miss King for most of the time. Then I strolled off onmy own.’
　　‘Thank you. And you were saying you returned to the camp. Do you know the approximatetime?’
　　‘I believe it was just about ten minutes past five.’
　　Poirot put down C.B. 5.10.
　　‘And what then?’
　　‘My mother was still sitting where she had been when we set out. I went up and spoke to her,and then went on to my tent.’
　　‘Can you remember exactly what passed between you?’
　　‘I just said it was very hot and that I was going to lie down. My mother said she would remainwhere she was. That was all.’
　　‘Did anything in her appearance strike you as out of the ordinary?’
　　‘No. At least that is—’
　　She paused doubtfully, staring at Poirot.
　　‘It is not from me that you can get the answer, mademoiselle,’ said Poirot quietly.
　　‘I was just considering. I hardly noticed at the time, but now, looking back—’
　　‘Yes?’
　　Carol said slowly: ‘It is true—she was a funny colour—her face was very red—more so thanusual.’
　　‘She might, perhaps, have had a shock of some kind?’ Poirot suggested.
　　‘A shock?’ she stared at him.
　　‘Yes, she might have had, let us say, some trouble with one of the Arab servants.’
　　‘Oh!’ Her face cleared. ‘Yes—she might.’
　　‘She did not mention such a thing having happened?’
　　‘N-o—no, nothing at all.’
　　Poirot went on: ‘And what did you do next, mademoiselle?’
　　‘I went to my tent and lay down for about half an hour. Then I went down to the marquee. Mybrother and his wife were there reading.’
　　‘And what did you do?’
　　‘Oh! I had some sewing to do. And then I picked up a magazine.’
　　‘Did you speak to your mother again on your way to the marquee?’
　　‘No. I went straight down. I don’t think I even glanced in her direction.’
　　‘And then?’
　　‘I remained in the marquee until—until Miss King told us she was dead.’
　　‘And that is all you know, mademoiselle?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　Poirot leaned forward. His tone was the same, light and conversational.
　　‘And what did you feel, mademoiselle?’
　　‘What did I feel?’
　　‘Yes—when you found that your mother—pardon—your stepmother, was she not?—what didyou feel when you found her dead?’
　　She stared at him.
　　‘I don’t understand what you mean!’
　　‘I think you understand very well.’
　　Her eyes dropped. She said uncertainly:
　　‘It was—a great shock.’
　　‘Was it?’
　　The blood rushed to her face. She stared at him helplessly. Now he saw fear in her eyes.
　　‘Was it such a great shock, mademoiselle? Remembering a certain conversation you had withyour brother Raymond one night in Jerusalem?’
　　His shot proved right. He saw it in the way the colour drained out of her cheeks again.
　　‘You know about that?’ she whispered.
　　‘Yes, I know.’
　　‘But how—how?’
　　‘Part of your conversation was overheard.’
　　‘Oh!’ Carol Boynton buried her face in her hands. Her sobs shook the table.
　　Hercule Poirot waited a minute, then he said quietly:
　　‘You were planning together to bring about your stepmother’s death.’
　　Carol sobbed out brokenly: ‘We were mad—mad—that evening!’
　　‘Perhaps.’
　　‘It’s impossible for you to understand the state we were in!’ She sat up, pushing back the hairfrom her face. ‘It would sound fantastic. It wasn’t so bad in America—but travelling brought it hometo us so.’
　　‘Brought what home to you?’ His voice was kind now, sympathetic.
　　‘Our being different from—other people! We—we got desperate about it. And there was Jinny.’
　　‘Jinny?’
　　‘My sister. You haven’t seen her. She was going—well, queer. And Mother was making herworse. She didn’t seem to realize. We were afraid, Ray and I, that Jinny was going quite, quite mad!
　　And we saw Nadine thought so, too, and that made us more afraid because Nadine knows aboutnursing and things like that.’
　　‘Yes, yes?’
　　‘That evening in Jerusalem things kind of boiled up! Ray was beside himself. He and I got allstrung up and it seemed—oh, indeed, it did seem right to plan as we did! Mother—Mother wasn’tsane. I don’t know what you think, but it can seem quite right—almost noble—to kill someone!’
　　Poirot nodded his head slowly. ‘Yes, it has seemed so, I know, to many. That is proved byhistory.’
　　‘That’s how Ray and I felt—that night…’ She beat her hand on the table. ‘But we didn’t reallydo it. Of course we didn’t do it! When daylight came the whole thing seemed absurd, melodramatic—oh, yes, and wicked too! Indeed, indeed, M. Poirot, Mother died perfectly naturally of heart failure.
　　Ray and I had nothing to do with it.’
　　Poirot said quietly: ‘Will you swear to me, mademoiselle, as you hope for salvation after death,that Mrs Boynton did not die as the result of any action of yours?’
　　She lifted her head. Her voice came steady and deep:
　　‘I swear,’ said Carol, ‘as I hope for salvation, that I never harmed her…’
　　Poirot leaned back in his chair.
　　‘So,’ he said, ‘that is that.’
　　There was silence. Poirot thoughtfully caressed his superb moustaches. Then he said: ‘Whatexactly was your plan?’
　　‘Plan?’
　　‘Yes, you and you brother must have had a plan.’
　　In his mind he ticked off the seconds before her answer came. One, two, three.
　　‘We had no plan,’ said Carol at last. ‘We never got as far as that.’
　　Hercule Poirot got up.
　　‘That is all, mademoiselle. Will you be so good as to send your brother to me?’
　　Carol rose. She stood undecidedly for a minute.
　　‘M. Poirot, you do—you do believe me?’
　　‘Have I said,’ asked Poirot, ‘that I do not?’
　　‘No, but—’ She stopped.
　　He said: ‘You will ask your brother to come here?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　She went slowly towards the door. She stopped as she got to it, turning round passionately.
　　‘I have told you the truth—I have!’
　　Hercule Poirot did not answer.
　　Carol Boynton went slowly out of the room.
第八章
　　第八章
　　在便签纸上写下“N.B.，四点四十分”之后，波洛打开门，把卡伯里上校留给他的勤务兵叫了进来。这是个聪明的人，英语说得很流利。波洛让他去请卡罗尔•博因顿小姐过来。
　　女孩走进房间后，他很有兴趣地打量着她。只见她一头栗色头发，长颈上优雅的头颅微微倾斜，线条优美的双手神经质地抖动着。
　　他说：“请坐，小姐。”
　　她顺从地坐了下来，面无血色且毫无表情。波洛先是机械地表达了自己的同情，而女孩脸上的表情没有任何变化，只是听着。
　　“可否请你说一说，小姐，事情发生的那天下午，你都做了些什么？”
　　她立刻做了回答，快得几乎让人怀疑是事先排练好的。
　　“吃完午饭，大家都出去散步了。我回到营地——”
　　波洛打断了她。“等一等，你回营地之前，你们所有人都在一起吗？”
　　“不是。大部分时间，我和我哥哥雷蒙德以及金小姐在一起。后来就是我自己溜达了。”
　　“谢谢。刚才你说你回到营地，你记得大概是几点钟吗？”
　　“我想是五点十分。”
　　波洛写下了“C.B.，五点十分”。
　　“后来呢？”
　　“我母亲还坐在那儿没动。我过去跟她说了两句话，然后就回自己的帐篷了。”
　　“你还记得你们都说了些什么吗？”
　　“我说天气很热，想去休息一下。我母亲说她就坐在那儿。就这些。”
　　“她的神态跟平常有什么不一样吗？”
　　“没有。至少是——”
　　她迟疑地打住了，瞪着波洛。
　　“从我的脸上你得不到答案吧，小姐。”波洛静静地说。
　　“我正在回忆呢。当时，我几乎没怎么注意，但是现在想起来……”
　　“怎么了？”
　　卡罗尔慢吞吞地说道：“没错，她的脸色很古怪——脸非常红，比平时红多了。”
　　“也许她受了什么刺激？”波洛提示道。
　　“刺激？”她瞪着他。
　　“没错。比如，跟某个阿拉伯仆人吵过架。”
　　“哦，”她面露喜色，“没错，有可能。”
　　“她没有提起这件事吗？”
　　“没有，完全没有。”
　　波洛继续问道：“后来你做了什么，小姐？”
　　“我回自己的帐篷躺了半小时左右，然后去了大帐篷。我哥哥和嫂子在那儿看书。”
　　“你干了些什么呢？”
　　“哦，我缝了点东西，之后看杂志。”
　　“在去大帐篷的路上，你跟你母亲说过话吗？”
　　“没有。我直接去了，都没往她那边看。”
　　“然后呢？”
　　“我一直在大帐篷里，直到——金小姐通知我们她死了。”
　　“这就是你知道的全部，小姐？”
　　“是的。”
　　波洛的身子往前探了探，仍是先前的语气，轻松得就像是在闲聊。
　　“你有什么感觉，小姐？”
　　“我有什么感觉？”
　　“是的。当你知道你母亲——抱歉，是你的继母，对吧——当你知道她死了，你有什么感觉？”
　　她瞪着他。
　　“我不知道你在说什么。”
　　“我想你知道。”
　　她垂下眼帘，不确定地说：
　　“这——是个很大的冲击。”
　　“真的吗？”
　　她的脸一下子红了。她无助地凝望着他。他看到了她眼中的恐惧。
　　“真的让你受到了这么大的冲击吗，小姐？你记不记得你跟你哥哥在耶路撒冷的一个晚上有过一次谈话？”
　　这句话正中要害，他看到她的脸上又失去了血色。
　　“你知道这件事？”她轻声说道。
　　“是的，我知道。”
　　“你怎么知道的——怎么可能？”
　　“我无意中听见了你们谈话的某些内容。”
　　“哦。”卡罗尔•博因顿的脸埋在双手中间，啜泣起来，震得桌子直抖。
　　赫尔克里•波洛等了一会儿，然后平静地说：
　　“你们正计划一起置你们的继母于死地。”
　　卡罗尔断断续续地抽泣着。“那晚，我们疯了——疯了！”
　　“也许吧。”
　　“你不可能理解我们处在什么情况之下，”她直起身，把垂落在脸上的头发拂到脑后，“这听上去很荒唐，在美国的时候，情况还没那么糟——但是这次的旅行却让我们感受更深了。”
　　“什么感受更深了？”现在，他的语气既和善又充满同情。
　　“我们这些人跟别人不同。我们——我们已经绝望了。而且，还有金妮。”
　　“金妮？”
　　“我妹妹。你还没见过她。她越来越——呃，古怪了。母亲搞得她的病情更严重了。她自己好像没意识到。我们，雷和我，都很担心她会发疯。而且我们知道娜丁也是这么想的。这让我们更加担心了，因为娜丁懂得疾病、护理这一类的事。”
　　“哦。那后来怎么了？”
　　“在耶路撒冷那晚，我们的情绪爆发了！雷实在忍不住了，我们俩都很激动。我们觉得那样去计划，的确——的确是正确的。母亲——母亲她不正常。我不知道你是怎么想，但杀人，有时候是非常正确——甚至是高尚的！”
　　波洛缓缓地点了点头。“是的，我知道好多人都这样想，这已经被历史证明了。”
　　“这就是我和雷的感觉——那天晚上……”她一手打在桌子上，“但我们并没有真的采取行动。当然没做！第二天早上，我们觉得整件事都显得那么荒谬、可笑——哦，还有邪恶！是真的，真的，波洛先生，母亲就是死于心脏病，雷和我跟她的死没有关系。”
　　波洛平静地说：“你可否对我发誓——以你希望死后得到拯救的灵魂——博因顿夫人并不是死于你们之手？”
　　她抬起头，声音变得坚定而低沉：
　　“我用我希望得到拯救的灵魂发誓：我从未伤害过她……”
　　波洛往后一靠。
　　“好了，”他说，“这样就行了。”
　　两人陷入了沉默。之后，波洛沉思着拧着自己那修剪整齐的胡子，问道：“你们的计划究竟是什么？”
　　“计划？”
　　“是啊，你和你哥哥肯定制订过计划。”
　　他暗自计算着时间，看她多久才回答这个问题。一秒，两秒，三秒。
　　“我们没计划。”终于，卡罗尔说，“我们没想那么多。”
　　赫尔克里•波洛站起身。
　　“好了，小姐，可否请你哥哥来我这儿一下？”
　　卡罗尔站起来，迟疑着。
　　“波洛先生，你——你相信我的话吧？”
　　“我说过不相信吗？”波洛问。
　　“没说过，可是……”她没再往下说。
　　他说：“你能让你哥哥来这儿一趟吗？”
　　“好的。”
　　她缓缓地向门口走去，快到时停了下来，又激动地转过身。
　　“我跟你说过真相了——我说过了！”
　　赫尔克里•波洛没说话。
　　卡罗尔•博因顿缓步走出了房间。
Chapter 9
　　Chapter 9
　　Poirot noted the likeness between brother and sister as Raymond Boynton came into the room.
　　His face was stern and set. He did not seem nervous or afraid. He dropped into a chair, staredhard at Poirot, and said: ‘Well?’
　　Poirot said gently: ‘Your sister has spoken with you?’
　　Raymond nodded. ‘Yes, when she told me to come here. Of course I realize that your suspicionsare quite justified. If our conversation was overheard that night, the fact that my stepmother diedrather suddenly certainly would seem suspicious! I can only assure you that the conversation was—the madness of an evening! We were, at the time, under an intolerable strain. This fantastic plan ofkilling my stepmother did—oh, how shall I put it?—it let off steam somehow!’
　　Hercule Poirot bent his head slowly.
　　‘That,’ he said, ‘is possible.’
　　‘In the morning, of course, it all seemed—rather absurd! I swear to you, M. Poirot, that I neverthought of the matter again!’
　　Poirot did not answer.
　　Raymond said quickly:
　　‘Oh, yes, I know that that is easy enough to say. I cannot expect you to believe me on my bareword. But consider the facts. I spoke to my mother just a little before six o’clock. She was certainlyalive and well then. I went to my tent, had a wash and joined the others in the marquee. From thattime onwards neither Carol nor I moved from the place. We were in full sight of everyone. You mustsee, M. Poirot, that my mother’s death was natural—a case of heart failure—it couldn’t be anythingelse! There were servants about, a lot of coming and going. Any other idea is absurd.’
　　Poirot said quietly: ‘Do you know, Mr Boynton, that Miss King is of the opinion that when sheexamined the body—at six-thirty—death had occurred at least an hour and a half and probably twohours earlier?’
　　Raymond stared at him. He looked dumbfounded.
　　‘Sarah said that?’ he gasped.
　　Poirot nodded. ‘What have you to say now?’
　　‘But—it’s impossible!’
　　‘That is Miss King’s testimony. Now you come and tell me that your mother was alive and wellonly forty minutes before Miss King examined the body.’
　　Raymond said: ‘But she was!’
　　‘Be careful, Mr Boynton.’
　　‘Sarah must be mistaken! There must be some factor she didn’t take into account. Refraction offthe rock—something. I can assure you, M. Poirot, that my mother was alive at just before six and thatI spoke to her.’
　　Poirot’s face showed nothing.
　　Raymond leant forward earnestly.
　　‘M. Poirot, I know how it must seem to you, but look at the thing fairly. You are a biasedperson. You are bound to be by the nature of things. You live in an atmosphere of crime. Everysudden death must seem to you a possible crime! Can’t you realize that your sense of proportion isnot to be relied upon? People die every day—especially people with weak hearts—and there isnothing in the least sinister about such deaths.’
　　Poirot sighed. ‘So you would teach me my business, is that it?’
　　‘No, of course not. But I do think that you are prejudiced — because of that unfortunateconversation. There is nothing really about my mother’s death to awaken suspicion except thatunlucky hysterical conversation between Carol and myself.’
　　Poirot shook his head. ‘You are in error,’ he said. ‘There is something else. There is the poisontaken from Dr Gerard’s medicine chest.’
　　‘Poison?’ Ray stared at him. ‘Poison?’ He pushed his chair back a little. He looked completelystupefied. ‘Is that what you suspect?’
　　Poirot gave him a minute or two. Then he said quietly, almost indifferently: ‘Your plan wasdifferent—eh?’
　　‘Oh, yes.’ Raymond answered mechanically. ‘That’s why—this changes everything…I—I can’tthink clearly.’
　　‘What was your plan?’
　　‘Our plan? It was—’
　　Raymond stopped abruptly. His eyes became alert, suddenly watchful.
　　‘I don’t think,’ he said, ‘that I’ll say any more.’
　　‘As you please,’ said Poirot.
　　He watched the young man out of the room.
　　He drew his pad towards him and in small, neat characters made a final entry. R.B. 5.55?
　　Then, taking a large sheet of paper, he proceeded to write. His task completed, he sat back withhis head on one side contemplating the result. It ran as follows:
　　Boyntons and Jefferson Cope leave the camp 3.5 (approx.)Dr Gerard and Sarah King leave the camp 3.15 (approx.)Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce leave the camp 4.15Dr Gerard returns to camp 4.20 (approx.)
　　Lennox Boynton returns to camp 4.35
　　Nadine Boynton returns to camp and talks to MrsBoynton
　　4.40
　　Nadine Boynton leaves her mother-in-law and goesto marquee
　　4.50 (approx.)
　　Carol Boynton returns to camp 5.10
　　Lady Westholme, Miss Pierce and Mr JeffersonCope
　　return to camp
　　5.40
　　Raymond Boynton returns to camp 5.50
　　Sarah King returns to camp 6.0
　　Body discovered 6.30
第九章
　　第九章
　　雷蒙德•博因顿走进房间的时候，波洛注意到了兄妹之间的相似之处。
　　他的表情严肃，似乎有所准备。他一屁股坐在椅子里，严肃地盯着波洛，说：“怎么了？”
　　波洛温和地说：“你妹妹告诉你了？”
　　雷蒙德点点头。“是的，她让我过来时跟我说了。我当然知道你的怀疑是有道理的。如果那晚听到我们的谈话，再加上后来继母突然去世，整件事是很可疑。我只能向你保证，那次谈话是——夜晚的疯狂！那时候，我们处于一种不堪忍受的重压之下，杀死我继母这种异想天开的计划是——哦，该怎么说——想个办法发泄郁积的情绪！”
　　赫尔克里•波洛慢慢低下头，说：
　　“这个，”他说，“有可能。”
　　“早上的时候，当然了，这一切都显得——非常荒谬。我对你发誓，波洛先生，此后我再也没这么想过。”
　　波洛没说话。
　　雷蒙德飞快地说：
　　“哦，没错，我知道这话说起来容易。我不敢指望你能相信我的片面之词，但是，请你想一想实际情况吧。快六点的时候，我跟我母亲说过话，那时候她还好好地活着。我回到自己的帐篷里梳洗一番之后，便去了大帐篷找其他人了。从那个时候开始，我和卡罗尔都没离开过。所有人都能清清楚楚地看到我们。你要明白，波洛先生，我母亲是自然死亡——死于心脏病——没有其他原因！周围都是仆人，来来回回地走动着。如果你认为还有别的原因，真是荒唐之至。”
　　波洛平静地说道：“你知道吗，博因顿先生，金小姐六点半的时候检查了尸体，她认为死亡时间至少在一个半小时以前，而且很有可能是两个小时。”
　　雷蒙德看着他，目瞪口呆。
　　“是莎拉说的吗？”他喘着粗气说。
　　波洛点了点头。“现在，你有什么想说的吗？”
　　“但是——这不可能！”
　　“这是金小姐的证词。而现在，你却跟我说，在金小姐检查尸体前四十分钟，你母亲还活得好好的。”
　　雷蒙德说：“事实就是这样。”
　　“小心你的言辞，雷蒙德先生。”
　　“莎拉肯定弄错了！肯定有些因素她没有考虑在内。比如岩石反射热什么的。我可以向你保证，波洛先生，快到六点的时候，我母亲还活着，我还跟她说过话。”
　　波洛的脸上没有任何表情。
　　雷蒙德热切地向前靠了靠。
　　“我知道你是怎么想的，波洛先生，但是请你公平地看待这件事。你也许先入为主了，但你应该看到事物的本质。你生活在犯罪的氛围之中，每一起突然死亡在你看来都有可能是犯罪。你不应该依赖自己的感觉，你没意识到这个吗？每天都会死人——尤其是心脏病患者——这种死亡其实很自然。”
　　波洛叹了口气。“你是在指导我该怎样工作吗？”
　　“不，当然不是了。但是，我觉得你确实有偏见——因为那次倒霉的对话。其实，除了我和卡罗尔之间那次倒霉的、歇斯底里的对话，我母亲的死，再没什么值得怀疑的了。”
　　波洛摇了摇头。“你错了，”他说，“还有别的事。杰拉德医生药箱里的一些毒药被人拿走了。”
　　“毒药？”雷蒙德盯着他，“毒药？”他把椅子往后推了推，看上去惊呆了，“你就是因为这个才有所怀疑的？”
　　波洛等了一两分钟，然后平静地、几乎是冷淡地说道：“你们的计划不一样，是吧？”
　　“哦，是的。”雷蒙德机械地回答道，“这就是为什么——这让一切都变了……我——我搞不懂了。”
　　“你们的计划是什么？”
　　“我们的计划？是——”
　　雷蒙德忽然打住了，眼睛里闪现出警惕、戒备的神色。
　　“我想，”他说，“我没什么要说的了。”
　　“悉听尊便。”波洛说。
　　他看着这个年轻人走出房间。
　　他拉过便笺纸，用整齐的小字写下了最后一项：“R.B.，五点五十分。”
　　然后，他拿出一张大纸写了起来。写完之后，他歪着脑袋靠在椅背上，看着自己的工作成果陷入了沉思。纸上写着：
　　博因顿家和杰弗逊•柯普离开营地 三点零五分（约）杰拉德医生和莎拉•金离开营地 三点十五分（约）爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐离开营地 四点十五分
　　杰拉德医生回到营地 四点二十分（约）
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿回到营地 四点三十五分
　　娜丁•博因顿回到营地，跟博因顿夫人说话 四点四十分娜丁•博因顿离开婆婆去大帐篷 四点五十分（约）卡罗尔•博因顿回到营地 五点十分
　　爵士夫人、皮尔斯小姐和杰弗逊•柯普回到营地 五点四十分雷蒙德•博因顿回到营地 五点五十分
　　莎拉•金回到营地 六点
　　发现尸体 六点三十分
Chapter 10
　　Chapter 10
　　‘I wonder,’ said Hercule Poirot. He folded up the list, went to the door and ordered Mahmoud to bebrought to him. The stout dragoman was voluble. Words dripped from him in a rising flood.
　　‘Always, always, I am blamed. When anything happens, say always, my fault. Always my fault.
　　When Lady Ellen Hunt sprain her ankle coming down from Place of Sacrifice it my fault, though shewould go high-heeled shoes and she sixty at least—perhaps seventy. My life all one misery! Ah!
　　what with miseries and iniquities, Jews do to us—’
　　At last Poirot succeeded in stemming the flood and in getting in his question.
　　‘Half-past five o’clock, you say? No, I not think any of servants were about then. You see, lunchis late—two o’clock. And then to clear it away. After the lunch all afternoon sleep. Yes, Americans,they not take tea. We all settle sleep by half-past three. At five I who am soul of efficiency—always—always I watch for the comfort of ladies and gentlemen I serving, I come out knowing that time allEnglish ladies want tea. But no one there. They all gone walking. For me, that is very well—betterthan usual. I can go back sleep. At quarter to six trouble begin—large English lady—very grand lady—come back and want tea although boys are now laying dinner. She makes quite fuss—says watermust be boiling—I am to see myself. Ah, my good gentlemen! What a life—what a life! I do all I can—always I blamed—I—’
　　Poirot asked about the recriminations.
　　‘There is another small matter. The dead lady was angry with one of the boys. Do you knowwhich one it was and what it was about?’
　　Mahmoud’s hands rose to heaven.
　　‘Should I know? But naturally not. Old lady did not complain to me.’
　　‘Could you find out?’
　　‘No, my good gentlemen, that would be impossible. None of the boys admit it for a moment.
　　Old lady angry, you say? Then naturally boys would not tell. Abdul say it Mohammed, andMohammed say it Aziz and Aziz say it Aissa, and so on. They are all very stupid Bedouin —understand nothing.’
　　He took a breath and continued: ‘Now I, I have advantage of Mission education. I recite to youKeats—Shelley—“Iadadoveandasweedovedied—”’
　　Poirot flinched. Though English was not his native tongue, he knew it well enough to sufferfrom the strange enunciation of Mahmoud.
　　‘Superb!’ he said hastily. ‘Superb! Definitely I recommend you to all my friends.’
　　He contrived to escape from the dragoman’s eloquence. Then he took his list to ColonelCarbury, whom he found in his office.
　　Carbury pushed his tie a little more askew and asked:
　　‘Got anything?’
　　Poirot said: ‘Shall I tell you a theory of mine?’
　　‘If you like,’ said Colonel Carbury and sighed. One way and another he heard a good manytheories in the course of his existence.
　　‘My theory is that criminology is the easiest science in the world! One has only to let thecriminal talk—sooner or later he will tell you everything.’
　　‘I remember you said something of the kind before. Who’s been telling you things?’
　　‘Everybody.’ Briefly, Poirot retailed the interviews he had had that morning.
　　‘H’m,’ said Carbury. ‘Yes, you’ve got hold of a pointer or two, perhaps. Pity of it is they allseem to point in opposite directions. Have we got a case, that’s what I want to know?’
　　‘No.’
　　Carbury sighed again. ‘I was afraid not.’
　　‘But before nightfall,’ said Poirot, ‘you shall have the truth!’
　　‘Well, that’s all you ever promised me,’ said Colonel Carbury. ‘And I rather doubted yougetting that! Sure of it?’
　　‘I am very sure.’
　　‘Must be nice to feel like that,’ commented the other.
　　If there was a faint twinkle in his eye, Poirot appeared unaware of it. He produced his list.
　　‘Neat,’ said Colonel Carbury approvingly.
　　He bent over it.
　　After a minute or two he said: ‘Know what I think?’
　　‘I should be delighted if you would tell me.’
　　‘Young Raymond Boynton’s out of it.’
　　‘Ah! you think so?’
　　‘Yes. Clear as a bell what he thought. We might have known he’d be out of it. Being, as indetective stories, the most likely person. Since you practically overheard him saying he was going tobump off the old lady—we might have known that meant he was innocent!’
　　‘You read the detective stories, yes?’
　　‘Thousands of them,’ said Colonel Carbury. He added, and his tone was that of a wistfulschoolboy: ‘I suppose you couldn’t do the things the detective does in books? Write a list ofsignificant facts—things that don’t seem to mean anything but are really frightfully important—thatsort of thing.’
　　‘Ah,’ said Poirot kindly. ‘You like that kind of detective story? But certainly, I will do it for youwith pleasure.’
　　He drew a sheet of paper towards him and wrote quickly and neatly:
　　Significant points
　　1. Mrs Boynton was taking a mixture containing digitalis.
　　2. Dr Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe.
　　3. Mrs Boynton took definite pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying themselves with otherpeople.
　　4. Mrs Boynton, on the afternoon in question, encouraged her family to go away and leave her.
　　5. Mrs Boynton was a mental sadist.
　　6. The distance from the marquee to the place where Mrs Boynton was sitting is (roughly) twohundred yards.
　　7. Mr Lennox Boynton said at first he did not know what time he returned to the camp, but later headmitted having set his mother’s wrist-watch to the right time.
　　8. Dr Gerard and Miss Genevra Boynton occupied tents next door to each other.
　　9. At half-past six, when dinner was ready, a servant was dispatched to announce the fact to MrsBoynton.
　　The Colonel perused this with great satisfaction.
　　‘Capital!’ he said. ‘Just the thing! You’ve made it difficult — and seemingly irrelevant —absolutely the authentic touch! By the way, it seems to me there are one or two noticeable omissions.
　　But that, I suppose, is what you tempt the mug with?’
　　Poirot’s eyes twinkled a little, but he did not answer.
　　‘Point two, for instance,’ said Colonel Carbury tentatively. ‘Dr Gerard missed a hypodermicsyringe—yes. He also missed a concentrated solution of digitalis—or something of that kind.’
　　‘The latter point,’ said Poirot, ‘is not important in the way the absence of his hypodermicsyringe is important.’
　　‘Splendid!’ said Colonel Carbury, his face irradiated with smiles. ‘I don’t get it at all. I shouldhave said the digitalis was much more important than the syringe! And what about that servant motifthat keeps cropping up—a servant being sent to tell her dinner was ready—and that story of hershaking her stick at a servant earlier in the afternoon? You’re not going to tell me one of my poordesert mutts bumped her off after all? Because,’ added Colonel Carbury sternly, ‘if so, that would becheating.’
　　Poirot smiled, but did not answer.
　　As he left the office he murmured to himself:
　　‘Incredible! The English never grow up!’
第十章
　　第十章
　　“奇怪，”赫尔克里•波洛说。他把纸折好，走到门口让人把马哈茂德叫过来。身材粗壮的向导十分健谈，话语从他嘴边如同潮水般奔涌而出。
　　“总是这样，总是这样，都是我的错。每当有事发生，就会怪到我身上。艾伦•亨特勋爵夫人从佩特拉的祭坛上摔下来，扭了脚，也是我的错。她穿着高跟鞋，六十多岁了——可能是七十岁。我的人生太悲惨了，我们犹太人，什么苦难和罪孽都……”
　　最后，波洛好不容易堵住洪水，塞进一个问题。
　　“你是说五点三十分？不，我想那时候周围没有仆人。午饭吃得晚，两点钟吃的。之后他们要收拾餐具。吃完午饭，仆人们都在睡午觉。没错，美国人不喝茶。三点半的时候，我们都休息了。五点钟，我知道英国女士要喝茶，就出来了。我就是高效的化身——向来如此——总能把女士、先生们伺候得舒舒服服。可是，那时候一个人也没有，大家都出去散步了。对我来说这样挺好，比平时好。我又回去睡觉了。差一刻六点的时候，麻烦来了——那个大个头的英国女士——身材庞大的那位——回来了，并且要喝茶。仆人们都在准备晚饭了，可她非要喝茶。她唠唠叨叨地说了一堆话，水一定要烧开啊，我得亲自看着啊什么的。唉，天哪，什么日子！这都是什么日子啊！我竭尽所能——却总挨骂——我……”
　　波洛问起了博因顿老夫人责骂仆人的事。
　　“还有件小事。去世的老太太曾经对一个仆人发过脾气。你知道是哪个仆人，为什么发脾气吗？”
　　马哈茂德举起了双手。
　　“我应该知道吗？当然不应该了。那老太太没跟我抱怨过。”
　　“你能查出来吗？”
　　“不能。天哪，这不可能。没有仆人会承认的。你说，老太太生气了？那么，仆人们肯定不会说的。阿布德尔说是穆罕默德，穆罕默德说是阿齐兹，阿齐兹说是艾萨，没完没了。他们全都是愚蠢的贝都因人，什么都不懂。”
　　他吸了一口气，继续说：“但我，我可不同。我受过教育。我能给你背诵济慈、雪莱的诗歌……”
　　吧啦吧啦吧……
　　波洛畏缩起来。虽然英语不是他的母语，但他说得很好，马哈茂德那奇怪的发音实在让他受不了。
　　“好极了！”他慌忙打断了他，“太棒了！我要把你推荐给我所有的朋友。”
　　他想方设法从口若悬河的向导身旁逃了出来，拿着那张纸去找卡伯里上校。后者正在自己的办公室里。
　　卡伯里拉了拉有点歪的领带，问道：
　　“查到什么了吗？”
　　波洛说：“要听听我的理论吗？”
　　“请吧。”卡伯里上校叹了口气。他这一生中，已经听过很多理论了。
　　“我的理论是，犯罪学是这世界上最简单的科学。只要让罪犯开口说话——早晚他会告诉你一切。”
　　“我记得你以前说过这样的话。这次是谁说实话了？”
　　“每一个人。”波洛简单讲述了早上他和众人谈话的情形。
　　“嗯，”卡伯里说，“你确实掌握了一两个关键之处，可惜它们都指向不同的方向。我们找到真相了吗？这是我最关心的。”
　　“没有。”
　　卡伯里叹了口气。“到底还是没有。”
　　“不过在天黑以前，”波洛说，“你就会得到真相！”
　　“嗯，你早就向我保证过，”卡伯里上校说，“但我很怀疑你能做到！你有把握吗？”
　　“我很肯定。”
　　“自信的感觉一定很好。”
　　卡伯里上校眼中闪过一丝光亮，波洛假装没看到，他拿出那张纸。
　　“字迹很整齐。”卡伯里上校赞赏地说。
　　他弯下腰看了起来。
　　过了一会儿，他说：“你知道我怎么想吗？”
　　“如果你可以告诉我，我会很高兴。”
　　“雷蒙德•博因顿被排除了。”
　　“啊！你这么想！”
　　“是的。他怎么想的，一目了然。我们原本可以一早就把他排除，因为，他就像侦探小说里那个嫌疑最大的人。既然你确实听到他说要杀死那个老太太，我们就应该知道，这意味着他是无辜的！”
　　“你看侦探小说？”
　　“看了很多。”卡伯里上校说，随后又说了起来，语气就像一个急于表现的小男生，“我猜你不会做侦探小说里写的那些事吧？列一张重大事件的单子——看上去无关紧要，但实际却至关重要。”
　　“哦，”波洛温和地说，“你喜欢那类侦探小说啊？当然了，我很乐意为你这么做。”
　　他拿过一张纸，飞快而整齐地写道：
　　要点
　　1.博因顿老夫人服用了含毛地黄的混合药物
　　2.杰拉德医生丢了一个皮下注射器
　　3.博因顿夫人阻止家人跟外人交往，以此为乐
　　4.事情发生的当天下午，博因顿夫人鼓励家人离开，只剩自己一个人5.博因顿老夫人是个心理虐待狂
　　6.大帐篷距离博因顿老夫人所坐的地方（约）二百码7.雷诺克斯•博因顿先生一开始说自己不知道回营地是在几点，但后来承认替他母亲对过表
　　8.杰拉德医生的帐篷跟吉内芙拉的挨着
　　9.六点半，晚饭准备好了的时候，一个仆人去通知博因顿老夫人吃饭上校无比满意地细细读着这张单子。
　　“太好了！”他说，“这正是我们需要的！你把事情搞复杂了——而且看上去没什么关联——肯定就是这么回事。顺便说一下，好像漏了两个明显的地方。不过，我猜你是在故意试探那个人吧？”
　　波洛眨了眨眼，没说话。
　　“比如，第二点，”卡伯里上校尝试地说，“杰拉德医生丢了一个皮下注射器——没错。
　　但他还丢了毛地黄。”
　　“这个不如丢了注射器重要。”
　　“好极了！”卡伯里上校，脸上乐开了花，“我完全搞不懂。要是我，会觉得毛地黄比注射器重要！还有那个一直被说起的重要仆人呢？一个仆人被派去通知她晚饭已经准备好了——下午稍早的时候，她还对一个仆人挥动手杖。你该不会要跟我说，是某个可怜的傻瓜仆人杀了她吧？因为，”卡伯里上校严肃地说，“这肯定是骗人的。”
　　波洛微微一笑，没说话。
　　离开办公室的时候，他咕哝着说：“太不可思议了！英国人永远都长不大！”
Chapter 11
　　Chapter 11
　　Sarah King sat on a hill-top absently plucking up wild flowers. Dr Gerard sat on a rough wall ofstones near her.
　　She said suddenly and fiercely: ‘Why did you start all this? If it hadn’t been for you—’
　　Dr Gerard said slowly: ‘You think I should have kept silence?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘Knowing what I knew?’
　　‘You didn’t know,’ said Sarah.
　　The Frenchman sighed. ‘I did know. But I admit one can never be absolutely sure.’
　　‘Yes, one can,’ said Sarah uncompromisingly.
　　The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. ‘You, perhaps!’
　　Sarah said: ‘You had fever—a high temperature—you couldn’t be clear-headed about thebusiness. The syringe was probably there all the time. And you may have made a mistake about thedigitoxin or one of the servants may have meddled with the case.’
　　Gerard said cynically: ‘You need not worry! The evidence is almost bound to be inconclusive.
　　You will see, your friends the Boyntons will get away with it!’
　　Sarah said fiercely: ‘I don’t want that, either.’
　　He shook his head. ‘You are illogical!’
　　‘Wasn’t it you—’ Sarah demanded, ‘in Jerusalem—who said a great deal about not interfering?
　　And now look!’
　　‘I have not interfered. I have only told what I know!’
　　‘And I say you don’t know it. Oh dear, there we are, back again! I’m arguing in a circle.’
　　Gerard said gently: ‘I am sorry, Miss King.’
　　Sarah said in a low voice:
　　‘You see, after all, they haven’t escaped—any of them! She’s still there! Even from her graveshe can still reach out and hold them. There was something—terrible about her—she’s just as terriblenow she’s dead! I feel—I feel she’s enjoying all this!’
　　She clenched her hands. Then she said in an entirely different tone, a light everyday voice: ‘Thatlittle man’s coming up the hill.’
　　Dr Gerard looked over his shoulder.
　　‘Ah! he comes in search of us, I think.’
　　‘Is he as much of a fool as he looks?’ asked Sarah.
　　Dr Gerard said gravely: ‘He is not a fool at all.’
　　‘I was afraid of that,’ said Sarah King.
　　With sombre eyes she watched the uphill progress of Hercule Poirot.
　　He reached them at last, uttered a loud ‘ouf’ and wiped his forehead. Then he looked sadlydown at his patent leather shoes.
　　‘Alas!’ he said. ‘This stony country! My poor shoes.’
　　‘You can borrow Lady Westholme’s shoe-cleaning apparatus,’ said Sarah unkindly. ‘And herduster. She travels with a kind of patent housemaid’s equipment.’
　　‘That will not remove the scratches, mademoiselle,’ Poirot shook his head sadly.
　　‘Perhaps not. Why on earth do you wear shoes like that in this sort of country?’
　　Poirot put his head a little on one side.
　　‘I like to have the appearance soigné,’ he said.
　　‘I should give up trying for that in the desert,’ said Sarah.
　　‘Women do not look their best in the desert,’ said Dr Gerard dreamily. ‘But Miss King here, yes—she always looks neat and well-turned out. But that Lady Westholme in her great thick coats andskirts and those terrible unbecoming riding breeches and boots—quelle horreur de femme! And thepoor Miss Pierce—her clothes so limp, like faded cabbage leaves, and the chains and the beads thatclink! Even young Mrs Boynton, who is a good-looking woman, is not what you call chic! Herclothes are uninteresting.’
　　Sarah said restively: ‘Well, I don’t suppose M. Poirot climbed up here to talk about clothes!’
　　‘True,’ said Poirot. ‘I came to consult Dr Gerard—his opinion should be of value to me—andyours, too, mademoiselle—you are young and up to date in your psychology. I want to know, yousee, all that you can tell me of Mrs Boynton.’
　　‘Don’t you know all that by heart now?’ asked Sarah.
　　‘No. I have a feeling—more than a feeling—a certainty that the mental equipment of MrsBoynton is very important in this case. Such types as hers are no doubt familiar to Dr Gerard.’
　　‘From my point of view she was certainly an interesting study,’ said the doctor.
　　‘Tell me.’
　　Dr Gerard was nothing loath. He described his own interest in the family group, hisconversation with Jefferson Cope, and the latter’s complete misreading of the situation.
　　‘He is a sentimentalist, then,’ said Poirot.
　　‘Oh, essentially! He has ideals—based, really, on a deep instinct of laziness. To take humannature at its best, and the world as a pleasant place is undoubtedly the easiest course in life! JeffersonCope has, consequently, not the least idea what people are really like.’
　　‘That might be dangerous sometimes,’ said Poirot.
　　Dr Gerard went on: ‘He persisted in regarding what I may describe as “the Boynton situation” asa case of mistaken devotion. Of the underlying hate, rebellion, slavery and misery he had only thefaintest notion.’
　　‘It is stupid, that,’ Poirot commented.
　　‘All the same,’ went on Dr Gerard, ‘even the most willfully obtuse of sentimental optimistscannot be quite blind. I think, on the journey to Petra, Mr Jefferson Cope’s eyes were being opened.’
　　And he described the conversation he had had with the American on the morning of MrsBoynton’s death.
　　‘That is an interesting story, that story of a servant girl,’ said Poirot thoughtfully. ‘It throws lighton the old woman’s methods.’
　　Gerard said: ‘It was altogether an odd strange morning, that! You have not been to Petra, M.
　　Poirot. If you go you must certainly climb to the Place of Sacrifice. It has an—how shall I say?—anatmosphere!’ He described the scene in detail, adding: ‘Mademoiselle here sat like a young judge,speaking of the sacrifice of one to save many. You remember, Miss King?’
　　Sarah shivered. ‘Don’t! Don’t let’s talk of that day.’
　　‘No, no,’ said Poirot. ‘Let us talk of events further back in the past. I am interested, Dr Gerard,in your sketch of Mrs Boynton’s mentality. What I do not quite understand is this, having brought herfamily into absolute subjection, why did she then arrange this trip abroad where surely there wasdanger of outside contacts and of her authority being weakened?’
　　Dr Gerard leaned forward excitedly.
　　‘But, mon vieux, that is just it! Old ladies are the same all the world over. They get bored! Iftheir specialty is playing patience, they sicken of the patience they know too well. They want to learna new patience. And it is just the same with an old lady whose recreation (incredible as it may sound)is the dominating and tormenting of human creatures! Mrs Boynton — to speak of her as unedompteuse—had tamed her tigers. There was perhaps some excitement as they passed through thestage of adolescence. Lennox’s marriage to Nadine was an adventure. But then, suddenly, all wasstale. Lennox is so sunk in melancholy that it is practically impossible to wound or distress him.
　　Raymond and Carol show no signs of rebellion. Ginevra—ah! la pauvre Ginevra—she, from hermother’s point of view, gives the poorest sport of all. For Ginevra has found a way of escape! Sheescapes from reality into fantasy. The more her mother goads her, the more easily she gets a secretthrill out of being a persecuted heroine! From Mrs Boynton’s point of view it is all deadly dull. Sheseeks, like Alexander, new worlds to conquer. And so she plans the voyage abroad. There will be thedanger of her tamed beasts rebelling, there will be opportunities for inflicting fresh pain! It soundsabsurd, does it not, but it was so! She wanted a new thrill.’
　　Poirot took a deep breath. ‘It is perfect, that. Yes, I see exactly what you mean. It was so. It allfits in. She chose to live dangerously, la maman Boynton—and she paid the penalty!’
　　Sarah leaned forward, her pale, intelligent face very serious. ‘You mean,’ she said, ‘that shedrove her victims too far and—and they turned on her—or—or one of them did?’
　　Poirot bowed his head.
　　Sarah said, and her voice was a little breathless:
　　‘Which of them?’
　　Poirot looked at her, at her hands clenched fiercely on the wild flowers, at the pale rigidity of herface.
　　He did not answer—was indeed saved from answering, for at that moment Gerard touched hisshoulder and said: ‘Look.’
　　A girl was wandering along the side of the hill. She moved with a strange rhythmic grace thatsomehow gave the impression that she was not quite real. The gold red of her hair shone in thesunlight, a strange secretive smile lifted the beautiful corners of her mouth. Poirot drew in his breath.
　　He said: ‘How beautiful…How strangely movingly beautiful…That is how Ophelia should beplayed—like a young goddess straying from another world, happy because she has escaped out of thebondage of human joys and griefs.’
　　‘Yes, yes, you are right,’ said Gerard. ‘It is a face to dream of, is it not? I dreamt of it. In myfever I opened my eyes and saw that face—with its sweet, unearthly smile…It was a good dream. Iwas sorry to wake…’
　　Then, with a return to his commonplace manner:
　　‘That is Ginevra Boynton,’ he said.
第十一章
　　第十一章
　　莎拉•金坐在山顶上，心不在焉地揪着身旁的野花。杰拉德医生则坐在她旁边的一块粗糙的石头上。
　　突然，她激烈地说：“你为什么要搞出这一切来？要不是你——”
　　杰拉德医生缓缓地说：“你认为我应该保持沉默？”
　　“是的。”
　　“知道了那些事之后？”
　　“你不明白。”莎拉说。
　　法国人叹了口气。“我的确明白。不过，我承认谁都不会有绝对的把握。”
　　“可能会有。”莎拉坚决地说。
　　法国人耸了耸肩。“也许你可以。”
　　莎拉说：“那天晚上你在发烧——高烧——头脑不清楚。也许注射器一直就放在那儿，毛地黄毒苷的事也许是你想错了，可能是仆人动了药箱。”
　　杰拉德冷嘲热讽道：“你不需要担心！这些证据都是不确定的。你会看到你的朋友，博因顿一家，逃脱罪行的！”
　　莎拉生气地说：“这不是我想要的。”
　　他摇了摇头。“你不讲道理！”
　　“你不是——”莎拉责问道，“在耶路撒冷的时候，你不是宣扬不打扰别人的生活吗？可看看现在的你！”
　　“我没有打扰，我只是说出自己知道的事！”
　　“所以我说你并不知道。哦，天哪，我们又绕回来了！我总是在兜圈子！”
　　杰拉德医生轻声地说：“对不起，金小姐。”
　　莎拉用一种低沉的声音说道：“你瞧，他们所有人，都没能逃脱——一个都没有！就算在坟墓里，她也能伸出手抓住他们。有些——可怕的东西——在她身上。现在，她死了，却还是那么可怖。我觉得——我觉得她正在享受这一切！”
　　她攥起了拳头。忽然，她语气变了，变成了平时轻快的语调：“那个小个子上山了。”
　　杰拉德医生扭过头。
　　“啊！我想他是来找我们的。”
　　“他真的跟他的外表一样蠢吗？”莎拉问。
　　杰拉德医生一本正经地说：“他根本不蠢。”
　　“我以前担心过这一点。”莎拉•金说。
　　她忧郁地注视着爬上山的赫尔克里•波洛。
　　他终于来到他们身旁，长吁一口气，擦擦额头的汗水。然后，他低下头，悲伤地看着自己的漆皮鞋。
　　“天哪！”他说，“这个石头做的国家！我可怜的鞋。”
　　“你可以借爵士夫人的擦鞋工具。”莎拉幸灾乐祸地说，“还有她的抹布。她旅行的时候带了一套女仆专用的设备。”
　　“那样也擦不掉这些划痕，小姐。”波洛悲伤地摇着头。
　　“也许吧。不过在这样的地方，你为什么要穿这种鞋子？”
　　波洛微微歪了歪脑袋，说：
　　“我喜欢整洁的衣着。”
　　“在沙漠中，我会放弃这种努力的。”莎拉说。
　　“女人在沙漠中的表现都不是最好的，”杰拉德医生梦呓般地说道，“金小姐，没错——看着很整洁并且穿戴得体。但是爵士夫人总是穿着她那又大又厚的外套和裙子，还有那些不合身的马裤马靴——太可怕了！ [1] 至于可怜的皮尔斯小姐，她的衣服松松垮垮的，像是枯萎的卷心菜叶，还有那些叮当作响的珠链！甚至年轻的博因顿夫人也是这样，虽然很漂亮，可一点都没有你们说的‘时髦’！她的衣着枯燥无趣。”
　　莎拉烦躁地说：“哎呀，我想波洛先生爬到这山上来，不是要跟咱们讨论穿衣打扮的！”
　　“没错，”波洛说，“我来是咨询杰拉德医生的意见的——他的看法对我很有帮助。当然了，你的看法也一样，小姐——你年轻，学的也是最新的心理学。我希望你们能告诉我关于博因顿老夫人的一切。”
　　“你现在不是什么都知道了吗？”莎拉问。
　　“不是，我有种感觉——不仅是一种感觉——我相信，在这件事情上，博因顿老夫人的心理状态是关键。不用说，杰拉德医生很了解她这种情况。”
　　“从我的角度来看，她的确是一个很有意思的研究对象。”医生说。
　　“说说看。”
　　杰拉德医生非常乐意这么做。他描述了自己对这一家人的兴趣，他和杰弗逊•柯普的谈话，以及后者对整个情况的错误看法。
　　“所以，他是个理想主义者。”波洛说。
　　“哦，本质上是的。他的理念，其实是建立在根深蒂固的偷懒本能上的，把人性看成是美的，把世界看成一个乐园，不用说，这是简单的生活经历造成的！因此，杰弗逊•柯普根本不知道人性到底是怎样的。”
　　“有时候这会很危险。”波洛说。
　　杰拉德医生继续说道：“他坚持认为我对‘博因顿处境’的理解是错误的，而对他们一家人潜在的憎恨、反抗、奴役和痛苦，完全不了解。”
　　“蠢到家了。”波洛批评道。
　　“虽然是这么说，”杰拉德医生接着说，“即使最迟钝的理想主义者也不可能看不到这些。我想，佩特拉的这场旅行让杰弗逊•柯普先生大开眼界。”
　　他讲述了博因顿老夫人去世的那天早上，他跟美国人之间的对话。
　　“那个女仆的故事很有意思，”波洛若有所思地说，“它说明了老太太的行事风格。”
　　杰拉德医生说：“总之，那是一个古怪的、不可思议的早上！波洛先生，你是没去过佩特拉，如果你去，一定要到圣地去的。那里有——怎么说——有一种气氛！”他详细地讲述了那里的景色，又补充道，“这位小姐坐在那儿就像一位年轻的法官，说到了牺牲一个人来拯救许多人的事。你还记得吗，金小姐？”
　　莎拉一哆嗦。“不要说了！别再说那一天了。”
　　“不，不说了，”波洛说，“让我们说说更早之前的事情吧。你从整体上讲述了博因顿夫人的精神状态，杰拉德医生，关于这一点，我很有兴趣。我不太明白这件事：既然全家人已经完全屈服于她，那她为什么还要安排这次国外之旅？在这个过程中，肯定要和陌生人有所接触，那她的权威就会有被削弱的危险啊。”
　　杰拉德医生激动地向前探过身子。
　　“但是，老兄 [2] ，就是这么回事。全世界的老太太都是一样的。她们会厌倦。如果她们的专长是玩纸牌游戏，那么她们就会厌倦自己所熟知的玩法，从而想学一学新花样。而以支配、折磨别人为乐的老太太也是如此。博因顿老夫人——就当她是一个驯兽师好了——她已经把老虎驯服了。他们在青春期的时候，可能还会有一些惊险。雷诺克斯和娜丁结婚是一种冒险，但没多久，一切都恢复如初。雷诺克斯陷入忧郁之中，实际上他也不可能感到痛苦或伤害了。雷蒙德和卡罗尔完全不想反抗。吉内芙拉——唉，可怜的吉内芙拉——在她母亲眼中，是最差劲的一个了。因为吉内芙拉自己找到了解脱的方法。她从现实逃向了幻想中，母亲越是对她严苛，她就越容易认为自己是受迫害的女主角，并从中获得一种秘密的兴奋感。博因顿老夫人认为，这一切都无聊透顶。于是，她想像亚历山大那样，寻找可以征服的新世界。由此，她计划去国外旅行。会存在被驯服的野兽反扑的危险，但也有让别人产生新的痛苦的机会。听上去好像很荒谬，但事实如此！她需要新的刺激。”
　　波洛深深地吸了口气。“很完美。没错，我完全明白你的意思了。事实也正是如此。现在，一切都能说得通了。博因顿家的母亲选择了危险的生活——并为此付出了代价！”
　　莎拉探身向前，聪明而苍白的脸上表情严肃。“你的意思是，她过分虐待她的受害者，所以——所以他们——或者其中一个——把矛头转向她，杀了她？”
　　波洛点点头。
　　莎拉喘着粗气说：
　　“是谁？”
　　波洛看着她，看到她那紧紧攥住野花的双手，还有苍白而僵硬的面颊。
　　他没有回答——因为这时杰拉德拍了拍他的肩膀，说：“你看。”
　　一个女孩正沿着山坡漫步而来。她行走的节奏很奇怪，但富有韵律，像是一个精灵。
　　金红色的头发被阳光照得闪闪发光，一抹奇特而隐秘的微笑在她美丽的嘴角绽放。波洛屏住了呼吸。
　　他说：“太美了……奇特而动人的美……奥菲莉娅 [3] 就应该这么演——一个年轻的女神，从另一个世界飘然而来，摆脱了人类的悲哀，充满了幸福和欢乐。”
　　“对，对，你说得对，”杰拉德医生赞同地说，“这是一张在梦中才会见到的脸，不是吗？我就梦见过。我发高烧的时候，睁开眼睛就看见了那张脸——甜美的、充满神秘色彩的微笑……那是一个很美的梦，真后悔我醒过来了……”
　　之后，他恢复了平时的语气。“她就是吉内芙拉•博因顿。”
　　[1]原文为法语。
　　[2]原文为法语。
　　[3]奥菲莉娅（Ophelia），莎士比亚剧作《哈姆雷特》中女主人公。
Chapter 12
　　Chapter 12
　　In another minute the girl had reached them.
　　Dr Gerard performed the introduction.
　　‘Miss Boynton, this is M. Hercule Poirot.’
　　‘Oh.’ She looked at him uncertainly. Her fingers joined together, twined themselves uneasily inand out. The enchanted nymph had come back from the country of enchantment. She was now just anordinary awkward girl, slightly nervous and ill at ease.
　　Poirot said: ‘It is a piece of good fortune meeting you here, mademoiselle. I tried to see you inthe hotel.’
　　‘Did you?’
　　Her smile was vacant. Her fingers began plucking at the belt of her dress. He said gently:
　　‘Will you walk with me a little way?’
　　She moved docilely enough, obedient to his whim.
　　Presently she said, rather unexpectedly, in a queer, hurried voice:
　　‘You are—you are a detective, aren’t you?’
　　‘Yes, mademoiselle.’
　　‘A very well-known detective?’
　　‘The best detective in the world,’ said Poirot, stating it as a simple truth, no more, no less.
　　Ginevra Boynton breathed very softly:
　　‘You have come here to protect me?’
　　Poirot stroked his moustaches thoughtfully. He said:
　　‘Are you, then, in danger, mademoiselle?’
　　‘Yes, yes.’ She looked round with a quick, suspicious glance. ‘I told Dr Gerard about it inJerusalem. He was very clever. He gave no sign at the time. But he followed me—to that terribleplace with the red rocks.’ She shivered. ‘They meant to kill me there. I have to be continually on myguard.’
　　Poirot nodded gently and indulgently.
　　Ginevra Boynton said: ‘He is kind—and good. He is in love with me!’
　　‘Yes?’
　　‘Oh, yes. He says my name in his sleep…’ Her voice softened—again a kind of trembling,unearthly beauty hovered there. ‘I saw him—lying there turning and tossing—and saying my name…I stole away quietly.’ She paused. ‘I thought, perhaps, he had sent for you? I have a terrible lot ofenemies, you know. They are all round me. Sometimes they are disguised.’
　　‘Yes, yes,’ said Poirot gently. ‘But you are safe here—with all your family round you.’
　　She drew herself up proudly.
　　‘They are not my family! I have nothing to do with them. I cannot tell you who I really am—that is a great secret. It would surprise you if you knew.’
　　He said gently: ‘Was your mother’s death a great shock to you, mademoiselle?’
　　Ginevra stamped her feet.
　　‘I tell you—she wasn’t my mother! My enemies paid her to pretend she was and to see I did notescape!’
　　‘Where were you on the afternoon of her death?’
　　‘I was in the tent…It was hot in there, but I didn’t dare come out…They might have got me…’
　　She gave a little quiver. ‘One of them—looked into my tent. He was disguised but I knew him. Ipretended to be asleep. The Sheikh had sent him. The Sheikh wanted to kidnap me, of course.’
　　For a few moments Poirot walked in silence, then he said: ‘They are very pretty, these historiesyou recount to yourself?’
　　She stopped. She glared at him. ‘They’re true. They’re all true.’ Again she stamped an angryfoot.
　　‘Yes,’ said Poirot, ‘they are certainly ingenious.’
　　She cried out: ‘They are true—true—’
　　Then, angrily, she turned from him and ran down the hillside. Poirot stood looking after her. In aminute or two he heard a voice close behind him.
　　‘What did you say to her?’
　　Poirot turned to where Dr Gerard, a little out of breath, stood beside him. Sarah was comingtowards them both, but she came at a more leisurely pace.
　　Poirot answered Gerard’s question.
　　‘I told her,’ he said, ‘that she had imagined to herself some pretty stories.’
　　The doctor nodded his head thoughtfully.
　　‘And she was angry? That is a good sign. It shows, you see, that she has not yet completelypassed through the door. She still knows that it is not the truth! I shall cure her.’
　　‘Ah, you are undertaking a cure?’
　　‘Yes. I have discussed the matter with young Mrs Boynton and her husband. Ginevra will cometo Paris and enter one of my clinics. Afterwards she will have her training for the stage.’
　　‘The stage?’
　　‘Yes—there is a possibility there for her of great success. And that is what she needs—what shemust have! In many essentials she has the same nature as her mother.’
　　‘No!’ cried Sarah, revolted.
　　‘It seems impossible to you, but certain fundamental traits are the same. They were both bornwith a great yearning for importance; they both demand that their personality shall impress! Thispoor child has been thwarted and suppressed at every turn; she has been given no outlet for her fierceambition, for her love of life, for the expression of her vivid romantic personality.’ He gave a littlelaugh. ‘Nous allons changer tout ?a!’
　　Then, with a little bow, he murmured: ‘You will excuse me?’ And he hurried down the hill afterthe girl.
　　Sarah said: ‘Dr Gerard is tremendously keen on his job.’
　　‘I perceive his keenness,’ said Poirot.
　　Sarah said, with a frown: ‘All the same, I can’t bear his comparing her to that horrible oldwoman—although, once—I felt sorry for Mrs Boynton myself.’
　　‘When was that, mademoiselle?’
　　‘That time I told you about in Jerusalem. I suddenly felt as though I’d got the whole businesswrong. You know that feeling one has sometimes when just for a short time you see everything theother way round? I got all het-up about it and went and made a fool of myself!’
　　‘Oh, no—not that!’
　　Sarah, as always when she remembered her conversation with Mrs Boynton, was blushingacutely.
　　‘I felt all exalted as though I had a mission! And then later, when Lady W. fixed a fishy eye onme and said she had seen me talking to Mrs Boynton, I thought she had probably overheard, and I feltthe most complete ass.’
　　Poirot said: ‘What exactly was it that old Mrs Boynton said to you? Can you remember theexact words?’
　　‘I think so. They made rather an impression on me. “I never forget,” that’s what she said.
　　“Remember that. I’ve never forgotten anything—not an action, not a name, not a face.”’ Sarahshivered. ‘She said it so malevolently—not even looking at me. I feel—I feel as if, even now, I canhear her…’
　　Poirot said gently: ‘It impressed you very much?’
　　‘Yes. I’m not easily frightened—but sometimes I dream of her saying just those words and herevil, leering triumphant face. Ugh!’ She gave a quick shiver. Then she turned suddenly to him.
　　‘M. Poirot, perhaps I ought not to ask, but have you come to a conclusion about this business?
　　Have you found out anything definite?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　He saw her lips tremble as she asked, ‘What?’
　　‘I have found out to whom Raymond Boynton spoke that night in Jerusalem. It was to his sisterCarol.’
　　‘Carol—of course!’
　　Then she went on: ‘Did you tell him—did you ask him—’
　　It was no use. She could not go on. Poirot looked at her gravely and compassionately. He saidquietly:
　　‘It means—so much to you, mademoiselle?’
　　‘It means just everything!’ said Sarah. Then she squared her shoulders. ‘But I’ve got to know.’
　　Poirot said quietly: ‘He told me that it was a hysterical outburst—no more! That he and hissister were worked up. He told me that in daylight such an idea appeared fantastic to them both.’
　　‘I see…’
　　Poirot said gently: ‘Miss Sarah, will you not tell me what it is you fear?’
　　Sarah turned a white despairing face upon him.
　　‘That afternoon—we were together. And he left me saying—saying he wanted to do somethingnow—while he had the courage. I thought he meant just to—to tell her. But supposing he meant…’
　　Her voice died away. She stood rigid, fighting for control.
第十二章
　　第十二章
　　片刻之间，女孩就到了他们面前。
　　杰拉德医生介绍说：
　　“博因顿小姐，这是赫尔克里•波洛先生。”
　　“哦。”她呆呆地看着他，双手手指不自在地一会儿交叉一会儿又放开。中了魔法的仙女从魔幻的国度回到了现实之中，这会儿，她只是一个普通而笨拙的女孩，有些神经质，而且局促不安。
　　波洛说：“在这儿遇到你真是太幸运了，小姐，我还想在酒店见见你呢。”
　　“是吗？”
　　她的笑容空洞无物，手指开始拽起了衣服的腰带。
　　他柔声说道：
　　“你能不能陪我散散步？”
　　她顺从地答应了这个要求。
　　不一会儿，她很意外地说话了，声音古怪而急促。
　　“你是——是个侦探，对吗？”
　　“是的，小姐。”
　　“很有名气的侦探吗？”
　　“世界上最有名气的侦探。”在波洛看来，这是个简单的事实，如此而已。
　　吉内芙拉•博因顿轻轻地喘着气。
　　“你来这儿是为了保护我吗？”
　　波洛沉思着捋了捋胡子，说：
　　“这么说，小姐，你遇到危险了？”
　　“没错，没错，”她飞快地看了看四周，“在耶路撒冷的时候，我跟杰拉德医生说过。他很聪明，当时没说什么。但是，他跟着我——跟到那个满是红色岩石的恐怖的地方，”她一哆嗦，“他们想在那儿杀了我。我必须一直保持警惕。”
　　波洛温和而宽容地点了点头。
　　吉内芙拉•博因顿说：“他善良——很好。他爱上我了！”
　　“真的？”
　　“哦，是的……他在睡梦中叫着我的名字……”她的声音柔和起来——还是那种颤抖的、脱俗的甜美，“我看到他了，翻来覆去，呼唤着我的名字……我静悄悄地走了。”她顿了顿，“我猜，也许是他请你过来的。要知道，我周围有很多敌人，很可怕，有时候还会乔装打扮。”
　　“嗯，没错，”波洛温和地说，“但是，这儿很安全，周围都是你的家人。”
　　她骄傲地挺直了腰板。
　　“他们不是我的家人！我跟他们完全没关系！我不能告诉你我的真实身份——这是个大秘密，你知道了肯定会大吃一惊的。”
　　他柔声说道：“你母亲的死，对你打击很大吧，小姐？”
　　吉内芙拉跺着脚。
　　“我跟你说——她不是我母亲！我的敌人雇她来假装成我母亲，监视我，免得我逃跑！”
　　“她去世的那天下午，你在哪儿？”
　　“我在帐篷里……里面很热，但是，我不敢出去……也许他们会抓住我……”她身子一震，“他们其中一个人——往我的帐篷里看。虽然他化了装，但我能认出来。我假装睡着了。是酋长派他来的。当然了，酋长就是想绑架我。”
　　波洛默默地走了一会儿，又说：“你给自己编的这些故事，很动听吧？”
　　她停下脚步，瞪着他。“是真的——真的——”说完又跺起了脚。
　　“没错，”波洛说，“确实很高明。”
　　她大叫：“这是真的——真的——”
　　然后她气愤地转身向着山下跑去。波洛站在那儿，望着她的背影。过了一会儿，身后传来一个声音，问道：
　　“你跟她说了什么？”
　　波洛转过身，看到杰拉德医生气喘吁吁地站在旁边。莎拉朝他们走了过来，但是脚步更悠闲从容。
　　波洛回答了杰拉德的问题。
　　“我告诉她，”他说，“那些动人的故事都是她自己编造的。”
　　医生沉思着点了点头。
　　“于是她生气了？这是个好迹象。这说明她并不是无可救药。她仍然知道那些不是真的，我会治好她的。”
　　“啊，你要治疗她吗？”
　　“是的，我已经跟博因顿少夫人和她丈夫讨论过这件事了。吉内芙拉会去巴黎，我在那儿有个诊所。然后，她会接受戏剧训练。”
　　“戏剧？”
　　“没错——她很有可能获得成功。这正是她需要的——她一定需要！在很多方面，她和她母亲在性格上是相同的。”
　　“不可能！”莎拉抗议道。
　　“也许你觉得不可能，但是她们的某些性格特征是相同的。她们天生就有一种对重要地位的渴望。她们都要求别人重视她们的存在。这个可怜的孩子过去一直都遭到阻挠和压制，她那强烈的野心、对生活的热爱，全都找不到施展的渠道。”他轻轻地笑了笑，“我们要改变所有这些！”
　　然后他微微点了点头，嘟囔了一声“对不起”，就急匆匆地下山追那个女孩去了。
　　莎拉说：“杰拉德医生真热爱自己的工作。”
　　“我感觉到了。”波洛说。
　　莎拉皱着眉头。“尽管这样，我仍然受不了他把她跟那个恐怖的老太太做比较——虽然，有一次我自己也曾经为博因顿老夫人感到伤心。”
　　“什么时候，小姐？”
　　“我跟你说过，就是耶路撒冷那次。当然，我忽然觉得自己好像把整件事情都搞错了。
　　你知道，忽然会有一段时间，你对所有事情的看法都会反过来，就会产生这种感觉。这事让我一下子激动起来，所以才让自己当众出丑了。”
　　“哦，不——不是那样的。”
　　莎拉每次想到自己跟博因顿老夫人的那次谈话，脸就会红得要命，这次也是。
　　“当时我觉得自己很高尚，就像肩负着什么神圣使命似的。后来，爵士夫人怀疑地看着我，说看到了我跟博因顿老夫人谈话的情形，我猜她有可能在一旁听到了谈话内容。我觉得自己愚蠢透顶。”
　　波洛问：“博因顿老夫人到底跟你说了什么？你还记得确切的话吗？”
　　“我想我记得。那些话给我留下了非常深刻的印象。‘我从不忘记。’她说，‘记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事，任何一个举动，一个名字，一张脸……’”莎拉哆嗦着，“她充满了恶意，看都不看我。我觉得——我觉得就算是现在，还能听见她的声音……”
　　波洛温和地说：“印象很深吧？”
　　“是的。我不会轻易受到惊吓——但有时候，我会梦到她说的这些话，还有那张邪恶、不怀好意、耀武扬威的脸。啊！”她猛地一哆嗦，忽然转向波洛。
　　“也许我不应该问，波洛先生，这件事你有结论了吗？是不是发现了什么确定的事？”
　　“是的。”
　　她再问的时候，双唇抖动着：“是什么？”
　　“我知道，在耶路撒冷那天晚上，雷蒙德•博因顿在跟谁说话了——跟他妹妹卡罗尔。”
　　“卡罗尔——哦，是她！”
　　然后，她接着说：“你有没有告诉他……你有没有问过他……”
　　没用了，她说不下去了。波洛严肃而同情地看着她，静静地说道：
　　“这对你——很重要吗，小姐？”
　　“非常重要！”莎拉说着，挺起胸膛，“我一定要知道。”
　　波洛平静地说：“他告诉我那是一次歇斯底里的发泄——仅此而已！他和他妹妹都很激动。他告诉我，到了白天，那样的想法让他们两个人都觉得很荒唐。”
　　“懂了……”
　　波洛轻轻地说：“金小姐，你不告诉我你为什么觉得恐惧吗？”
　　莎拉那张苍白而绝望的脸转向了他。
　　“那天下午——我们在一起。后来，他回去时告诉我——说他现在想去做一件事——趁他还有勇气。我以为他只是——只是去告诉她。但是，如果他打算……”
　　她的声音渐渐小了下去。她僵硬地站在那儿，极力控制着自己。
Chapter 13
　　Chapter 13
　　Nadine Boynton came out of the hotel. As she hesitated uncertainly, a waiting figure sprang forward.
　　Mr Jefferson Cope was immediately at his lady’s side.
　　‘Shall we walk up this way? I think it’s the pleasantest.’
　　She acquiesced.
　　They walked along and Mr Cope talked. His words came freely if a trifle monotonously. It is notcertain whether he perceived that Nadine was not listening. As they turned aside on to the stonyflower-covered hill-side, she interrupted him.
　　‘Jefferson, I’m sorry. I’ve got to talk to you.’
　　Her face had grown pale.
　　‘Why, certainly, my dear. Anything you like, but don’t distress yourself.’
　　She said: ‘You’re cleverer than I thought. You know, don’t you, what I’m going to say?’
　　‘It is undoubtedly true,’ said Mr Cope, ‘that circumstances alter cases. I do feel, veryprofoundly, that in the present circumstances decisions may have to be reconsidered.’ He sighed.
　　‘You’ve got to go right ahead, Nadine, and do just what you feel.’
　　She said with real emotion: ‘You’re so good, Jefferson. So patient! I feel I’ve treated you verybadly. I really have been downright mean to you.’
　　‘Now, look here, Nadine, let’s get this right. I’ve always known what my limitations were whereyou were concerned. I’ve had the deepest affection and respect for you ever since I’ve known you.
　　All I want is your happiness. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Seeing you unhappy has very nearly drivenme crazy. And I may say that I’ve blamed Lennox. I’ve felt that he didn’t deserve to keep you if hedidn’t value your happiness a little more than he seemed to do.’
　　Mr Cope took a breath and went on:
　　‘Now I’ll admit that after travelling with you to Petra, I felt that perhaps Lennox wasn’t quite somuch to blame as I thought. He wasn’t so much selfish where you were concerned, as too unselfishwhere his mother was concerned. I don’t want to say anything against the dead, but I do think thatyour mother-in-law was perhaps an unusually difficult woman.’
　　‘Yes, I think you may say that,’ murmured Nadine.
　　‘Anyway,’ went on Mr Cope, ‘you came to me yesterday and told me that you’d definitelydecided to leave Lennox. I applaud your decision. It wasn’t right—the life you were leading. Youwere quite honest with me. You didn’t pretend to be more than just mildly fond of me. Well, that wasall right with me. All I asked was the chance to look after you and treat you as you should be treated.
　　I may say that afternoon was one of the happiest afternoons in my life.’
　　Nadine cried out: ‘I’m sorry—I’m sorry.’
　　‘No, my dear, because all along I had a kind of feeling that it wasn’t real. I felt it was quite onthe cards that you would have changed your mind by the next morning. Well, things are differentnow. You and Lennox can lead a life of your own.’
　　Nadine said quietly: ‘Yes. I can’t leave Lennox. Please forgive me.’
　　‘Nothing to forgive,’ declared Mr Cope. ‘You and I will go back to being old friends. We’ll justforget about that afternoon.’
　　Nadine placed a gentle hand on his arm. ‘Dear Jefferson, thank you. I’m going to find Lennoxnow.’
　　She turned and left him. Mr Cope went on alone.
　　II
　　Nadine found Lennox sitting at the top of the Graeco-Roman theatre. He was in such a brown studythat he hardly noticed her till she sank breathless at his side. ‘Lennox.’
　　‘Nadine.’ He half turned.
　　She said: ‘We haven’t been able to talk until now. But you know, don’t you, that I am notleaving you?’
　　He said gravely: ‘Did you ever really mean to, Nadine?’
　　She nodded. ‘Yes. You see, it seemed to be the only possible thing left to do. I hoped—I hopedthat you would come after me. Poor Jefferson, how mean I have been to him.’
　　Lennox gave a sudden curt laugh.
　　‘No, you haven’t. Anyone who is as unselfish as Cope ought to be given full scope for hisnobility! And you were right, you know, Nadine. When you told me that you were going away withhim you gave me the shock of my life! You know, honestly, I think I must have been going queer orsomething lately. Why the hell didn’t I snap my fingers in Mother’s face and go off with you whenyou wanted me to?’
　　She said gently: ‘You couldn’t, my dear, you couldn’t.’
　　Lennox said musingly: ‘Mother was a damned queer character…I believe she’d got us all halfhypnotized.’
　　‘She had.’
　　Lennox mused a minute or two longer. Then he said: ‘When you told me that afternoon—it wasjust like being hit a crack on the head! I walked back half dazed, and then, suddenly I saw what adamned fool I’d been! I realized that there was only one thing to be done if I didn’t want to lose you.’
　　He felt her stiffen. His tone became grimmer.
　　‘I went and—’
　　‘Don’t…’
　　He gave her a quick glance.
　　‘I went and—argued with her.’ He spoke with a complete change of tone—careful and rathertoneless. ‘I told her that I got to choose between her and you—and that I chose you.’
　　There was a pause.
　　He repeated, in a tone of curious self-approval:
　　‘Yes, that’s what I said to her.’
第十三章
　　第十三章
　　1
　　娜丁•博因顿走出旅馆，目光茫然。等待她的人向她跑了过来。
　　杰弗逊•柯普飞快地走到她身边。
　　“我们走这边吧，我觉得这边最舒服。”
　　她默许了。
　　他们一边走，柯普先生一边说话。他说起来滔滔不绝，但是有些单调，不知道他有没有察觉到娜丁并没有在听。他们拐了个弯，走上了石头、鲜花遍地的山坡，她打断了他。
　　“对不起，杰弗逊，我要和你谈一谈。”
　　她脸色苍白。
　　“当然了，亲爱的，什么都可以说，别压抑你自己就行。”
　　她说：“你比我想得聪明。你知道我要说什么，是吗？”
　　“毋庸置疑，”柯普先生说，“此一时彼一时。我深深地感觉到，在现在这种情况下，也许你要重新考虑这些决定。”他叹了口气，“但你必须往前走，娜丁，做自己想做的。”
　　她深情地说：“你真好，杰弗逊，真有耐心！我觉得我对你很坏，很卑鄙地利用了你。”
　　“现在，听我说，娜丁，让我们说开这件事吧。我知道我们的关系会有个极限。自从我认识了你，就一直深深地爱着你、尊敬你，我只想要你幸福。这也是我一直以来想要的。
　　看到你不幸福，我都快要疯了。我得说，我是怪过雷诺克斯，我认为如果他不在乎你的幸福，就不配拥有你。”
　　柯普先生深吸了一口气，继续说道：
　　“现在，我得承认，跟你们一起去了佩特拉之后，我觉得也许雷诺克斯不像我想得那样要负全部责任。他在跟你有关的事情上自私，但其实他是在跟他母亲有关的事情上太无私。我不想说死者的坏话，但我确实认为你婆婆太难缠了。”
　　“是的，我认为你可以这么说。”娜丁低声说道。
　　“无论如何，”柯普先生继续说道，“昨天你来跟我说，你下了决心离开雷诺克斯。我为你的决定而喝彩。你以前的生活方式是不对的。你对我很诚实。你只是有点喜欢我，并没有装作有多深的感情。没错，对我而言，这已经足够。我所要求的只是能有机会照顾你、对你好。可以说，那个下午是我生命中最幸福的一个下午。”
　　娜丁哭了出来。“对不起……对不起。”
　　“不用道歉，亲爱的，因为我当时就有种感觉，那不是真的。我有种强烈的预感，第二天早上一醒来你就会改变主意。而且，现在事情变得不同了。你和雷诺克斯可以有自己的生活了。”
　　娜丁平静地说：“是的，我无法离开雷诺克斯。请原谅。”
　　“没什么可原谅的，”柯普先生声明，“你和我仍然是朋友。我们只需要忘记那天下午的事。”
　　娜丁温柔地把一只手放在他的胳膊上。“亲爱的杰弗逊，谢谢你。现在，我要去找雷诺克斯了。”
　　她转身走了。柯普先生独自前行。
　　2
　　娜丁发现雷诺克斯坐在希腊罗马式剧院的顶上正想着什么，直到自己喘着气坐在他身边，他才发现。
　　“雷诺克斯。”
　　“娜丁。”他稍稍转过身。
　　她说：“直到现在，我们才能好好地谈谈。但是你知道，我不会离开你的，对吗？”
　　他严肃地说：“你真的曾经打算离开我吗，娜丁？”
　　她点了点头。“没错。要知道，这好像是我唯一能做的事了。我曾希望——希望你会去追我。可怜的杰弗逊，我这么对他，真卑鄙。”
　　雷诺克斯忽然短促地笑了一声。
　　“不，不是的。一个像柯普这么无私的人，应该得到机会来表现自己的高尚！而你是对的，娜丁。当你告诉我你要离开我、跟他一起走的时候，我这辈子从来没如此震撼过。说实话，我想，这段时间我肯定是哪里不对劲。该死的，你想要我跟你一起离开的时候，我为什么没能当面告诉母亲，然后跟你一起走呢？”
　　她柔声说道：“你做不到，亲爱的，你不能。”
　　雷诺克斯沉思着说：“见鬼，母亲是个古怪的人……我相信，她把我们所有人都催眠了。”
　　“没错。”
　　雷诺克斯又想了一会儿，说：“那天下午你跟我说那些话的时候——就像对着我的脑袋狠狠地打了一下！我糊里糊涂地往回走，然后，忽然，我觉得自己就是个蠢货！我意识到，如果我不想失去你，只有一件事可以做。”
　　他感觉到她的身体僵硬了。他的语气冷酷起来。
　　“我去了，并且……”
　　“不……”
　　他飞快地看了她一眼。
　　“我去……告诉她了，”他的语气全变了，谨慎、平板，“我跟她说，我要在她和你之间作出选择——我选择了你。”
　　一阵沉默。
　　他又说了一遍，这一次语气十分奇怪，仿佛在自言自语：
　　“没错，这就是我跟她说的。”
Chapter 14
　　Chapter 14
　　Poirot met two people on his way home. The first was Mr Jefferson Cope.
　　‘M. Hercule Poirot? My name’s Jefferson Cope.’
　　The two men shook hands ceremoniously.
　　Then, falling into step beside Poirot, Mr Cope explained: ‘It’s just got round to me that you’remaking a kind of routine inquiry into the death of my old friend Mrs Boynton. That certainly was ashocking business. Of course, mind you, the old lady ought never to have undertaken such a fatiguingjourney. But she was headstrong, M. Poirot. Her family could do nothing with her. She was by wayof being a household tyrant—had had her own way too long, I guess. It certainly is true what she saidwent. Yes, sir, that certainly was true.’
　　There was a momentary pause.
　　‘I’d just like to tell you, M. Poirot, that I’m an old friend of the Boynton family. Naturallythey’re all a good deal upset over this business; they’re a trifle nervous and highly strung, too, youknow, so if there are any arrangements to be made—necessary formalities, arrangements for thefuneral—transport of the body to Jerusalem, why, I’ll take as much trouble as I can off their hands.
　　Just call upon me for anything that needs doing.’
　　‘I am sure the family will appreciate your offer,’ said Poirot. He added, ‘You are, I think, aspecial friend of young Mrs Boynton’s.’
　　Mr Jefferson Cope went a little pink.
　　‘Well, we won’t say much about that, M. Poirot. I hear you had an interview with Mrs LennoxBoynton this morning, and she may have given you a hint how things were between us, but that’s allover now. Mrs Boynton is a very fine woman and she feels that her first duty is to her husband in hissad bereavement.’
　　There was a pause. Poirot received the information by a delicate gesture of the head. Then hemurmured:
　　‘It is the desire of Colonel Carbury to have a clear statement concerning the afternoon of MrsBoynton’s death. Can you give me an account of that afternoon?’
　　‘Why, certainly. After our luncheon and a brief rest we set out for a kind of informal tour round.
　　We escaped, I’m glad to say, without that pestilential dragoman. That man’s just crazy on the subjectof the Jews. I don’t think he’s quite sane on that point. Anyway, as I was saying, we set out. It wasthen that I had my interview with Nadine. Afterwards she wished to be alone with her husband todiscuss matters with him. I went off on my own, working gradually back towards the camp. Abouthalf-way there I met the two English ladies who had been on the morning expedition—one of them’san English peeress, I understand?’
　　Poirot said that such was the case.
　　‘Ah, she’s a fine woman, a very powerful intellect and very well informed. The other seemed tome rather a weak sister—and she looked about dead with fatigue. That expedition in the morning wasvery strenuous for an elderly lady, especially when she doesn’t like heights. Well, as I was saying, Imet these two ladies and was able to give them some information on the subject of the Nabateans.
　　We went around a bit and got back to the camp about six. Lady Westholme insisted on having teaand I had the pleasure of having a cup with her—the tea was kind of weak, but it had an interestingflavour. Then the boys laid the table for supper and sent out to the old lady only to find that she wassitting there dead in her chair.’
　　‘Did you notice her as you walked home?’
　　‘I did notice she was there—it was her usual seat in the afternoon and evening, but I didn’t payspecial attention. I was just explaining to Lady Westholme the conditions of our slump. I had to keepan eye on Miss Pierce, too. She was so tired she kept turning her ankles.’
　　‘Thank you, Mr Cope. May I be so indiscreet as to ask if Mrs Boynton is likely to have left alarge fortune?’
　　‘A very considerable one. That is to say, strictly speaking, it was not hers to leave. She had a lifeinterest in it and at her death it is divided between the late Elmer Boynton’s children. Yes, they willall be very comfortably off now.’
　　‘Money,’ murmured Poirot, ‘makes a lot of difference. How many crimes have been committedfor it?’
　　Mr Cope looked a little startled.
　　‘Why, that’s so, I suppose,’ he admitted.
　　Poirot smiled sweetly and murmured: ‘But there are so many motives for murder, are there not?
　　Thank you, Mr Cope, for your kind co-operation.’
　　‘You’re welcome, I’m sure,’ said Mr Cope. ‘Do I see Miss King sitting up there? I think I’ll goand have a word with her.’
　　Poirot continued to descend the hill.
　　He met Miss Pierce fluttering up it.
　　She greeted him breathlessly.
　　‘Oh, M. Poirot, I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve been talking to that very odd girl—the youngestone, you know. She has been saying the strangest things—about enemies, and some sheikh thatwanted to kidnap her and how she has spies all round her. Really, it sounded most romantic! LadyWestholme says it is all nonsense and that she once had a red-headed kitchenmaid who told lies justlike that, but I think sometimes that Lady Westholme is rather hard. And after all, it might be true,mightn’t it, M. Poirot? I read some years ago that one of the Czar’s daughters was not killed in theRevolution in Russia, but escaped secretly to America. The Grand Duchess Tatiana, I think it was. Ifso, this might be her daughter, mightn’t it? She did hint at something royal—and she has a look, don’tyou think? Rather Slavonic—those cheek-bones. How thrilling it would be!’
　　Poirot said somewhat sententiously: ‘It is true that there are many strange things in life.’
　　‘I didn’t really take in this morning who you were,’ said Miss Pierce, clasping her hands. ‘Ofcourse you are that very famous detective! I read all about the ABC case. It was so thrilling. I hadactually a post as governess near Doncaster at the time.’
　　Poirot murmured something. Miss Pierce went on with growing agitation.
　　‘That is why I felt perhaps—I had been wrong—this morning. One must always tell everything,must one not? Even the smallest detail, however unrelated it may seem. Because, of course, if you aremixed up in this, poor Mrs Boynton must have been murdered! I see that now! I suppose Mr MahMood—I cannot remember his name—but the dragoman, I mean—I suppose he could not be aBolshevik agent? Or even, perhaps, Miss King? I believe many quite well-brought-up girls of goodfamily belong to these dreadful Communists! That’s why I wondered if I ought to tell you—because,you see, it was rather peculiar when one comes to think of it.’
　　‘Precisely,’ said Poirot. ‘And therefore you will tell me all about it.’
　　‘Well, it’s not really anything very much. It’s only that on the next morning after the discovery Iwas up rather early—and I looked out of my tent to see the effect of the sunrise you know (only, ofcourse, it wasn’t actually sunrise because the sun must have risen quite an hour before). But it wasearly—’
　　‘Yes, yes. And you saw?’
　　‘That’s the curious thing—at least, at the time it didn’t seem much. It was only that I saw thatBoynton girl come out of her tent and fling something right out into the stream—nothing in that, ofcourse, but it glittered—in the sunlight! As it went through the air. It glittered, you know.’
　　‘Which Boynton girl was it?’
　　‘I think it was the one they call Carol—a very nice-looking girl—so like her brother—reallythey might be twins. Or, of course, it might have been the youngest one. The sun was in my eyes, so Icouldn’t quite see. But I don’t think the hair was red—just bronze. I’m so fond of that coppery-bronze hair! Red hair always says carrots to me!’ She tittered.
　　‘And she threw away a brightly glittering object?’ said Poirot.
　　‘Yes. And of course, as I said, I didn’t think much of it at the time. But later I walked along thestream and Miss King was there. And there amongst a lot of other very unsuitable things—even a tinor two—I saw a little bright metal box—not an exact square—a sort of long square, if you understandwhat I mean—’
　　‘But yes, I understand perfectly. About so long?’
　　‘Yes, how clever of you! And I thought to myself, “I suppose that’s what the Boynton girl threwaway, but it’s a nice little box.” And just out of curiosity I picked it up and opened it. It had a kind ofsyringe inside—the same thing they stuck into my arm when I was being inoculated for typhoid. AndI thought how curious to throw it away like that because it didn’t seem broken or anything. But justas I was wondering, Miss King spoke behind me. I hadn’t heard her come up. And she said, “Oh,thank you—that’s my hypodermic. I was coming to look for it.” So I gave it to her, and she wentback to the camp with it.’
　　Miss Pierce paused and then went on hurriedly:
　　‘And, of course, I expect there is nothing in it—only it did seem a little curious that CarolBoynton should throw away Miss King’s syringe. I mean, it was odd, if you know what I mean.
　　Though, of course, I expect there is a very good explanation.’
　　She paused, looking expectantly at Poirot.
　　His face was grave. ‘Thank you, mademoiselle. What you have told me may not be important initself, but I will tell you this! It completes my case! Everything is now clear and in order.’
　　‘Oh, really?’ Miss Pierce looked as flushed and pleased as a child.
　　Poirot escorted her to the hotel.
　　Back in his own room he added one line to his memorandum. Point No. 10. ‘I never forget.
　　Remember that. I’ve never forgotten anything…’
　　‘Mais oui,’ he said. ‘It is all clear now!’
第十四章
　　第十四章
　　在回来的路上，波洛遇见了两个人。第一个是杰弗逊•柯普先生。
　　“是赫尔克里•波洛先生吧？我是杰弗逊•柯普。”
　　两人礼貌地握了握手。
　　柯普先生跟上波洛的脚步，与他并排走着，一边解释说：“我刚刚才知道，你正在调查我的老朋友博因顿老夫人的死因。当然了，这真是让人震惊不已。老太太实在不应该进行这种疲劳的旅行。她的家人对此无能为力。她是个家庭暴君——我想，多年来她一直都是这样。她说去哪儿，就得去。这是事实。没错，先生，就是这样。”
　　短暂的沉默。
　　“我只想跟你说，波洛先生，我是博因顿家的老朋友了。当然了，这件事搞得他们每个人都很烦乱。你知道，他们都有些神经质，也容易激动。所以，如果有什么需要安排的事项，比如必需的手续、葬礼的准备、把尸体运回耶路撒冷这一类的事，我都会尽量帮他们处理。如果有任何需要，尽管叫我就行了。”
　　“我相信，他们全家都会很感谢你的。”波洛说，又补充道，“我想，你是博因顿少夫人的一位特别的朋友。”
　　杰弗逊•柯普先生的脸有点红了。
　　“呃，我们别说这个了，波洛先生。我听说，今天早上，你跟雷诺克斯•博因顿少夫人谈过话了。也许她跟你说了我们之间的事。不过，这一切都结束了。博因顿夫人是个善良的女士，她认为，在丈夫遭受丧母之痛的时候，她首要的责任就是陪在他身边。”
　　一阵沉默之后，波洛微微地点了点头，表示他明白了。然后，他咕哝道：
　　“我受了卡伯里上校的委托，调查博因顿老夫人去世那天下午发生的事。你能说一说那个下午的情况吗？”
　　“哦，没问题。我们吃完饭，休息了一阵子，就去周遭溜达去了。大家都很开心能摆脱那个让人厌烦的向导，每次说到犹太人他都像个疯子，我觉得在这个问题上，他不怎么正常。总之，正如我刚才所说的，我们出去了。就在那时候，我遇到了娜丁。之后，她希望能单独跟她丈夫待会儿，讨论一些事。于是，我离开她，一个人回营地去了。大概走了一半，就碰到了早上跟我一起爬山的两位英国女士，听说其中一位还是英国贵族，是吗？”
　　波洛说，她的确是。
　　“她是个厉害的女人，很聪明，见多识广。另外一个看上去很虚弱，样子非常疲劳。清早就去远足，对一个中年女士而言，是非常费劲的，特别是她还有恐高症。唔，我刚才说过了，我碰到了她们，还跟她们讲了一些纳巴泰人的事。我们在周围走了走，六点左右回到了营地。爵士夫人一定要喝茶，我很乐意陪着她喝一杯——茶有点淡，不过味道还算可以。之后，仆人们准备好了晚饭，并派了一个人去叫老太太，却发现她在椅子里去世了。”
　　“你在回帐篷的路上，见过她吗？”
　　“我确实看到她坐在那儿——就在她下午和晚上经常坐的地方，不过我并没有过多注意。我正跟爵士夫人解释美国股票暴跌的情形，而且还得分神照顾皮尔斯小姐。她累得不行了，动不动就会扭到脚踝。”
　　“谢谢你，柯普先生。请原谅我的冒昧，我想问一下，博因顿老夫人有没有可能留下了一大笔钱？”
　　“很多钱。严格说来，这不是她留下的钱。她有终生财产权，她死之后，这些钱必须平均分给已故的埃尔默•博因顿先生的子女。没错，现在，他们能过上舒服而富有的生活了。”
　　“钱，”波洛嘀咕着，“可以改变很多事。有多少罪犯都是为了钱而犯罪啊！”
　　柯普先生的样子有些惊讶。
　　“呃，我想是的。”他承认道。
　　波洛亲切地微微一笑，嘟囔着说：“但是谋杀的动机很多，对吧？柯普先生，谢谢你的合作。”
　　“不客气，”柯普先生说，“坐在那上面的是金小姐吧？我要跟她说句话。”
　　波洛继续往山下走去。
　　他遇到了跌跌撞撞上山的皮尔斯小姐。
　　她喘着粗气冲他打招呼。
　　“哦，波洛先生，很高兴见到你。刚才我一直在跟那个奇怪的女孩说话——你知道，是年纪最小的那个。她一直在说一些古里古怪的话，敌人啊，要绑架她的酋长啊，周围都是奸细啊。真的，听上去真的太传奇了！爵士夫人说这全都是鬼话，还说她之前有个红头发的厨娘就喜欢这么撒谎。不过，我觉得有时候爵士夫人待人太严苛了，不管怎样，这都有可能是真的啊，对吧，波洛先生？我在几年前读过一篇文章，上面说在俄国革命中，沙皇的某个女儿偷偷逃到了美国。我记得是塔蒂亚娜公主。如果这件事是真的，那这个女孩很有可能是她女儿，对吧？她确实说了什么王室的事——而且，你不觉得她挺漂亮的吗？像斯拉夫人，颧骨最像。要是这样，那可真是激动人心啊！”
　　波洛简短地说：“生活中就是会有很多奇怪的事。”
　　“今天早上我还不知道你是谁，”皮尔斯小姐绞着双手，说，“你是非常著名的侦探！我读了所有关于‘ABC案件’的报道，简直太惊险、太刺激了。那时候，我在唐卡斯特 [1] 附近当家庭教师。”
　　波洛嘀咕了一句，皮尔斯小姐激动起来，继续说道：
　　“所以我觉得我今天早上也许——也许错了。我应该告诉你每一件事，对吧？就算是最细小的细节，不管它看起来多么不相干。你出现了，说明可怜的博因顿老夫人一定是被人杀死的！现在，我明白这一点了！我猜马哈茂先生——我说不准他的名字，但是就是那个向导——我猜他该不会是个什么间谍吧？或者，没准是金小姐？我知道，有些女孩子家庭很好，也受到了很好的教育，然而却变成了可怕的激进分子！所以，我不知道该不该告诉你——因为，一想起来我就觉得诡异。”
　　“完全正确，”波洛说，“所以你要把全部事实都告诉我。”
　　“唔，其实不是什么重要的事，就是——博因顿老夫人去世的第二天早上，我起了个大早。我朝帐篷外面望过去，看着日出（当然了，算不上真正的日出，因为太阳在一个小时之前就升起来了），但是，还是很早……”
　　“没错，没错，你看到什么了？”
　　“奇怪的事情发生了——但是，我当时并没有觉得奇怪。只是——我看到博因顿家的女儿走出自己的帐篷，把一件什么东西扔进小溪里——当然了，这不算什么，可是那个东西在太阳底下发着光。你知道，就是它划过空中的时候，闪闪发光。”
　　“哪个女儿？”
　　“我想她是叫卡罗尔——很漂亮，跟她哥哥特别像，他们一定是双胞胎。当然了，也有可能是小女儿。太阳正好照着我的眼睛，所以我看不太清。不过，我认为她的头发不是红色的，而是红铜色。我特别喜欢红铜色的头发。浅红色总让我联想到胡萝卜。”她哧哧地笑了。
　　“她扔了一个闪亮的东西？”波洛问。
　　“是的，就像我刚才说的，我没怎么注意。不过后来，我顺着小溪散步的时候，金小姐就在那儿。我在一大堆乱七八糟的东西之中——其中有一两个铁罐——发现了那个小小的反光的金属盒。不太像正方形，而是长方形，你明白我的意思吧？”
　　“是的，完全明白。大约这么长？”
　　“没错，你太聪明了！当时我心里想着‘肯定是博因顿家的女儿扔的那个东西，可惜了，小盒子挺漂亮的’。在好奇心的驱使下，我捡了起来，打开一看，里面有个注射器——他们给我的胳膊打伤寒预防针的时候，就是用的这个。我觉得很奇怪，那针筒既没破也没坏，怎么扔了。我正想着，金小姐在我背后说话了。我都不知道她是什么时候走过来的。
　　她说：‘哦，非常感谢——这是我的皮下注射器。我正找它呢。’于是我就还给她了。接着，她拿着它回营地去了。”
　　皮尔斯小姐顿了顿，又急急地说：
　　“当然了，我觉得这事也没什么，只是卡罗尔•博因顿居然把金小姐的皮下注射器给扔了，确实有点古怪。我的意思是，挺奇怪的，你明白吧？不过，当然了，我希望会有一个很好的解释。”
　　她停了下来，充满期待地看着波洛。
　　他神情严肃。“谢谢你，小姐，你告诉我的事，也许它本身并不是那么重要，但是我要告诉你，它完善了我的案子。现在，所有的事情都清楚明白、井然有序了。”
　　“哦，真的？”皮尔斯小姐像个孩子似的，高兴得涨红了脸。
　　波洛和她一起走回酒店。
　　回到自己的房间，他在便笺纸上补充了一行字，第十点：“我绝对不会忘记，别忘了，我绝对不会忘记任何事……”
　　“没错 [2] ，”他说，“现在，全都清楚了！”
　　[1]英格兰中部一城市。
　　[2]原文为法语。
Chapter 15
　　Chapter 15
　　‘My preparations are complete,’ said Hercule Poirot.
　　With a little sigh he stepped back a pace or two and contemplated his arrangement of one of theunoccupied hotel bedrooms.
　　Colonel Carbury, leaning inelegantly against the bed which had been pushed against the wall,smiled as he puffed at his pipe. ‘Funny feller, aren’t you, Poirot?’ he said. ‘Like to dramatize things.’
　　‘Perhaps—that is true,’ admitted the little detective. ‘But indeed it is not all self-indulgence. Ifone plays a comedy, one must first set the scene.’
　　‘Is this a comedy?’
　　‘Even if it is a tragedy—there, too, the décor must be correct.’
　　Colonel Carbury looked at him curiously.
　　‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s up to you! I don’t know what you’re driving at. I gather, though, thatyou’ve got something.’
　　‘I shall have the honour to present to you what you asked me for—the truth!’
　　‘Do you think we can get a conviction?’
　　‘That, my friend, I did not promise you.’
　　‘True enough. Maybe I’m glad you haven’t. It depends.’
　　‘My arguments are mainly psychological,’ said Poirot.
　　Colonel Carbury sighed. ‘I was afraid they might be.’
　　‘But they will convince you,’ Poirot reassured him. ‘Oh, yes, they will convince you. The truth,I have always thought, is curious and beautiful.’
　　‘Sometimes,’ said Colonel Carbury, ‘it’s damned unpleasant.’
　　‘No, no.’ Poirot was earnest. ‘You take there the personal view. Take instead the abstract, thedetached point of vision. Then the absolute logic of events is fascinating and orderly.’
　　‘I’ll try to look on it that way,’ said the Colonel.
　　Poirot glanced at his watch, a large grotesque turnip of a watch.
　　‘But yes, indeed, it belonged to my grandfather.’
　　‘Thought it might have done.’
　　‘It is time to commence our proceedings,’ said Poirot. ‘You, mon Colonel, will sit here behindthis table in an official position.’
　　‘Oh, all right,’ Carbury grunted. ‘You don’t want me to put my uniform on, do you?’
　　‘No, no. If you would permit that I straightened your tie.’ He suited the action to the word.
　　Colonel Carbury grinned again, sat down in the chair indicated and a moment later, unconsciously,tweaked his tie round under his left ear again.
　　‘Here,’ continued Poirot, slightly altering the position of the chairs, ‘we place la familleBoynton.
　　‘And over here,’ he went on, ‘we will place the three outsiders who have a definite stake in thecase. Dr Gerard, on whose evidence the case for the prosecution depends. Miss Sarah King, who hastwo separate interests in the case, a personal one, and that of medical examiner. Also Mr JeffersonCope, who was on intimate terms with the Boyntons and so may be definitely described as aninterested party.’
　　He broke off. ‘Aha—here they come.’
　　He opened the door to admit the party.
　　Lennox Boynton and his wife came in first. Raymond and Carol followed. Ginevra walked byherself, a faint, faraway smile on her lips. Dr Gerard and Sarah King brought up the rear. MrJefferson Cope was a few minutes late and came in with an apology.
　　When he had taken his place Poirot stepped forward.
　　‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘this is an entirely informal gathering. It has come aboutthrough the accident of my presence in Amman. Colonel Carbury did me the honour to consult me—’
　　Poirot was interrupted. The interruption came from what was seemingly the most unlikelyquarter. Lennox Boynton said suddenly and pugnaciously:
　　‘Why? Why the devil should he bring you into this business?’
　　Poirot waved a hand gracefully.
　　‘Me, I am often called in in cases of sudden death.’
　　Lennox Boynton said: ‘Doctors send for you whenever there is a case of heart failure?’
　　Poirot said gently: ‘Heart failure is such a very loose and unscientific term.’
　　Colonel Carbury cleared his throat. It was an official noise. He spoke in an official tone.
　　‘Best to make it quite clear. Circumstance of death reported to me. Very natural occurrence.
　　Weather unusually hot—journey a very trying one for an elderly lady in bad health. So far all quiteclear. But Dr Gerard came to me and volunteered a statement—’
　　He looked inquiringly at Poirot. Poirot nodded.
　　‘Dr Gerard is a very eminent physician with a worldwide reputation. Any statement he makes isbound to be received with attention. Dr Gerard’s statement was as follows. On the morning after MrsBoynton’s death he noted that a certain quantity of a powerful drug acting on the heart was missingfrom his medical supplies. On the previous afternoon he had noticed the disappearance of ahypodermic syringe. Syringe was returned during the night. Final point—there was a puncture on thedead woman’s wrist corresponding to the mark of a hypodermic syringe.’
　　Colonel Carbury paused.
　　‘In these circumstances I considered that it was the duty of those in authority to inquire into thematter. M. Hercule Poirot was my guest and very considerately offered his highly specializedservices. I gave him full authority to make any investigations he pleased. We are assembled here nowto hear his report on the matter.’
　　There was silence—a silence so acute that you could have heard—as the saying is—a pin drop.
　　Actually someone did drop what was probably a shoe in the next room. It sounded like a bomb in thehushed atmosphere.
　　Poirot cast a quick glance at the little group of three people on his right, then turned his gaze tothe five people huddled together on his left—a group of people with frightened eyes.
　　Poirot said quietly: ‘When Colonel Carbury mentioned this business to me, I gave him myopinion as an expert. I told him that it might not be possible to bring proof—such proof as would beadmissible in a court of law—but I told him very definitely that I was sure I could arrive at the truth—simply by questioning the people concerned. For let me tell you this, my friends, to investigate acrime it is only necessary to let the guilty party or parties talk—always, in the end, they tell you whatyou want to know!’ He paused.
　　‘So, in this case, although you have lied to me, you have also, unwittingly, told me the truth.’
　　He heard a faint sigh, the scrape of a chair on the floor to his right, but he did not look round. Hecontinued to look at the Boyntons.
　　‘First, I examined the possibility of Mrs Boynton having died a natural death—and I decidedagainst it. The missing drug—the hypodermic syringe—and above all, the attitude of the dead lady’sfamily all convinced me that that supposition could not be entertained.
　　‘Not only was Mrs Boynton killed in cold blood—but every member of her family was aware ofthe fact! Collectively they reacted as guilty parties.
　　‘But there are degrees in guilt. I examined the evidence carefully with a view to ascertainingwhether the murder—yes, it was murder—had been committed by the old lady’s family acting on aconcerted plan.
　　‘There was, I may say, overwhelming motive. One and all stood to gain by her death—both inthe financial sense—for they would at once attain financial independence and indeed enjoy veryconsiderable wealth — and also in the sense of being freed from what had become an almostinsupportable tyranny.
　　‘To continue: I decided, almost immediately, that the concerted theory would not hold water.
　　The stories of the Boynton family did not dovetail neatly into each other, and no system of workablealibis had been arranged. The facts seemed more to suggest that one—or possibly two—members ofthe family had acted in collusion and that the others were accessories after the fact. I next consideredwhich particular member or members—were indicated. Here, I may say, I was inclined to be biasedby a certain piece of evidence known only to myself.’
　　Here Poirot recounted his experience in Jerusalem.
　　‘Naturally, that pointed very strongly to Mr Raymond Boynton as the prime mover in the affair.
　　Studying the family, I came to the conclusion that the most likely recipient of his confidences thatnight would be his sister Carol. They strongly resembled each other in appearance and temperament,and so would have a keen bond of sympathy and they also possessed the nervous rebellioustemperament necessary for the conception of such an act. That their motive was partly unselfish—tofree the whole family and particularly their younger sister—only made the planning of the deed moreplausible.’ Poirot paused a minute.
　　Raymond Boynton half opened his lips, then shut them again. His eyes looked steadily at Poirotwith a kind of dumb agony in them.
　　‘Before I go into the case against Raymond Boynton, I would like to read to you a list ofsignificant points which I drew up and submitted to Colonel Carbury this afternoon.
　　Significant points
　　1. Mrs Boynton was taking a mixture containing digitalin.
　　2. Dr Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe.
　　3. Mrs Boynton took definite pleasure in keeping her family from enjoying themselves with otherpeople.
　　4. Mrs Boynton, on the afternoon in question, encouraged her family to go away and leave her.
　　5. Mrs Boynton is a mental sadist.
　　6. The distance from the marquee to the place where Mrs Boynton was sitting is (roughly) twohundred yards.
　　7. Mr Lennox Boynton said at first he did not know what time he returned to the camp, but later headmitted having set his mother’s wrist-watch to the right time.
　　8. Dr Gerard and Miss Genevra Boynton occupied tents next door to each other.
　　9. At half-past six, when dinner was ready, a servant was dispatched to announce the fact to MrsBoynton.
　　10. Mrs Boynton, in Jerusalem, used these words: “I never forget. Remember that. I’ve never forgottenanything.”
　　‘Although I have numbered the points separately, occasionally they can be bracketed in pairs.
　　That is the case, for instance, with the first two. Mrs Boynton taking a mixture containing digitalis.
　　Dr Gerard had missed a hypodermic syringe. Those two points were the first thing that struck meabout the case, and I may say to you that I found them most extraordinary—and quite irreconcilable.
　　You do not see what I mean? No matter. I will return to the point presently. Let it suffice that Inoticed those two points as something that had definitely got to be explained satisfactorily.
　　‘I will conclude now with my study of the possibility of Raymond Boynton’s guilt. Thefollowing are the facts. He had been heard to discuss the possibility of taking Mrs Boynton’s life. Hewas in a condition of great nervous excitement. He had—mademoiselle will forgive me’—he bowedapologetically to Sarah—‘just passed through a moment of great emotional crisis. That is, he hadfallen in love. The exaltation of his feelings might lead him to act in one of several ways. He mightfeel mellowed and softened towards the world in general, including his stepmother—he might feelthe courage at last to defy her and shake off her influence—or he might find just the additional spur toturn his crime from theory to practice. That is the psychology! Let us now examine the facts.
　　‘Raymond Boynton left the camp with the others about three-fifteen. Mrs Boynton was thenalive and well. Before long Raymond and Sarah King had a tête-à-tête interview. Then he left her.
　　According to him, he returned to the camp at ten minutes to six. He went up to his mother, exchangeda few words with her, then went to his tent and afterwards down to the marquee. He says that at tenminutes to six, Mrs Boynton was alive and well.
　　‘But we now come to a fact which directly contradicts that statement. At half-past six MrsBoynton’s death was discovered by a servant. Miss King, who holds a medical degree, examined herbody and she swears definitely that at that time, though she did not pay any special attention to thetime when death had occurred, it had most certainly and decisively taken place at least an hour (andprobably a good deal more) before six o’clock.
　　‘We have here, you see, two conflicting statements. Setting aside the possibility that Miss Kingmay have made a mistake—’
　　Sarah interrupted him. ‘I don’t make mistakes. That is, if I had, I would admit to it.’
　　Her tone was hard and clear.
　　Poirot bowed to her politely.
　　‘Then there are only two possibilities — either Miss King or Mr Boynton is lying! Let usexamine Raymond Boynton’s reasons for so doing. Let us assume that Miss King was not mistakenand not deliberately lying. What, then, was the sequence of events? Raymond Boynton returns to thecamp, sees his mother sitting at the mouth of her cave, goes up to her and finds she is dead. Whatdoes he do? Does he call for help? Does he immediately inform the camp of what has happened? No,he waits a minute or two, then passes on to his tent and joins his family in the marquee and saysnothing. Such conduct is exceedingly curious, is it not?’
　　Raymond said in a nervous, sharp voice:
　　‘It would be idiotic, of course. That ought to show you that my mother was alive and well asI’ve said. Miss King was flustered and upset and made a mistake.’
　　‘One asks oneself,’ said Poirot, calmly sweeping on, ‘whether there could possibly be a reasonfor such conduct? It seems, on the face of it, that Raymond Boynton cannot be guilty, since at theonly time he was known to approach his stepmother that afternoon she had already been dead forsome time. Now, supposing, therefore, that Raymond Boynton is innocent, can we explain hisconduct?
　　‘And I say, that on the assumption that he is innocent, we can! For I remember that fragment ofconversation I overheard. “You do see, don’t you, that she’s got to be killed?” He comes back fromhis walk and finds her dead and at once his guilty memory envisages a certain possibility. The planhas been carried out—not by him—but by his fellow planner. Tout simplement—he suspects that hissister, Carol Boynton, is guilty.’
　　‘It’s a lie,’ said Raymond in a low, trembling voice.
　　Poirot went on: ‘Let us now take the possibility of Carol Boynton being the murderess. What isthe evidence against her? She has the same highly-strung temperament—the kind of temperamentthat might see such a deed coloured with heroism. It was she to whom Raymond Boynton was talkingthat night in Jerusalem. Carol Boynton returned to the camp at ten minues past five. According to herown story she went up and spoke to her mother. No one saw her do so. The camp was deserted—theboys were asleep. Lady Westholme, Miss Pierce and Mr Cope were exploring caves out of sight ofthe camp. There was no witness of Carol Boynton’s possible action. The time would agree wellenough. The case, then, against Carol Boynton is a perfectly possible one.’ He paused. Carol hadraised her head. Her eyes looked steadily and sorrowfully into his.
　　‘There is one other point. The following morning, very early, Carol Boynton was seen to throwsomething into the stream. There is reason to believe that that something was a hypodermic syringe.’
　　‘Comment?’ Dr Gerard looked up surprised. ‘But my hypodermic was returned. Yes, yes, I haveit now.’
　　Poirot nodded vigorously.
　　‘Yes, yes. This second hypodermic, it is very curious—very interesting. I have been given tounderstand that this hypodermic belonged to Miss King. Is that so?’
　　Sarah paused for a fraction of a second.
　　Carol spoke quickly: ‘It was not Miss King’s syringe,’ she said. ‘It was mine.’
　　‘Then you admit throwing it away, mademoiselle?’
　　She hesitated just a second.
　　‘Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t I?’
　　‘Carol!’ It was Nadine. She leaned forward, her eyes wide and distressed. ‘Carol…Oh, I don’tunderstand…’
　　Carol turned and looked at her. There was something hostile in her glance.
　　‘There’s nothing to understand! I threw away an old hypodermic. I never touched the—thepoison.’
　　Sarah’s voice broke in: ‘It is quite true what Miss Pierce told you, M. Poirot. It was my syringe.’
　　Poirot smiled.
　　‘It is very confusing, this affair of the hypodermic—and yet, I think, it could be explained. Ah,well, we have now two cases made out—the case for the innocence of Raymond Boynton—the casefor the guilt of his sister Carol. But me, I am scrupulously fair. I look always on both sides. Let usexamine what occurred if Carol Boynton was innocent.
　　‘She returns to the camp, she goes up to her stepmother, and she finds her—shall we say—dead!
　　What is the first thing she will think? She will suspect that her brother Raymond may have killed her.
　　She does not know what to do. So she says nothing. And presently, about an hour later, RaymondBoynton returns and having presumably spoken to his mother, says nothing of anything being amiss.
　　Do you not think that then her suspicions would become certainties? Perhaps she goes to his tent andfinds there a hypodermic syringe. Then, indeed, she is sure! She takes it quickly and hides it. Early inthe morning she flings it as far away as she can.
　　‘There is one more indication that Carol Boynton is innocent. She assures me when I questionher that she and her brother never seriously intended to carry out their plan. I ask her to swear—andshe swears immediately and with the utmost solemnity that she is not guilty of the crime! You see,that is the way she puts it. She does not swear that they are not guilty. She swears for herself, not herbrother—and thinks that I will not pay special attention to the pronoun.
　　‘Eh bien, that is the case for the innocence of Carol Boynton. And now let us go back a step andconsider not the innocence but the possible guilt of Raymond. Let us suppose that Carol is speakingthe truth, that Mrs Boynton was alive at five-ten. Under what circumstances can Raymond be guilty?
　　We can suppose that he killed his mother at ten minutes to six when he went up to speak to her. Therewere boys about the camp, true, but the light was fading. It might have been managed, but it thenfollows that Miss King lied. Remember, she came back to the camp only five minutes after Raymond.
　　From the distance she would see him go up to his mother. Then, when later she is found dead, MissKing realizes that Raymond has killed her, and to save him, she lies—knowing that Dr Gerard isdown with fever and cannot expose her lie!’
　　‘I did not lie!’ said Sarah clearly.
　　‘There is yet another possibility. Miss King, as I have said, reached the camp a few minutesafter Raymond. If Raymond Boynton found his mother alive, it may have been Miss King whoadministered the fatal injection. She believed that Mrs Boynton was fundamentally evil. She mayhave seen herself as a just executioner. That would equally well explain her lying about the time ofdeath.’
　　Sarah had grown very pale. She spoke in a low, steady voice.
　　‘It is true that I spoke of the expediency of one person dying to save many. It was the Place ofSacrifice that suggested the idea to me. But I can swear to you that I never harmed that disgusting oldwoman—nor would the idea of doing so ever have entered my head!’
　　‘And yet,’ said Poirot softly, ‘one of you two must be lying.’
　　Raymond Boynton shifted in his chair. He cried out impetuously:
　　‘You win, M. Poirot! I’m the liar. Mother was dead when I went up to her. It—it quite knockedme out. I’d been going, you see, to have it out with her. To tell her that from henceforth I was a freeagent. I was—all set, you understand. And there she was—dead! Her hand all cold and flabby. And Ithought—just what you said. I thought maybe Carol—you see, there was the mark on her wrist—’
　　Poirot said quickly: ‘That is the one point on which I am not completely informed. What was themethod you counted on employing? You had a method—and it was connected with a hypodermicsyringe. That much I know. If you want me to believe you, you must tell me the rest.’
　　Raymond said hurriedly: ‘It was a way I read in a book—an English detective story—you stuckan empty hypodermic syringe into someone and it did the trick. It sounded perfectly scientific. I—Ithought we’d do it that way.’
　　‘Ah,’ said Poirot. ‘I comprehend. And you purchased a syringe?’
　　‘No. As a matter of fact I pinched Nadine’s.’
　　Poirot shot a quick look at her. ‘The syringe that is in your baggage in Jerusalem?’ hemurmured.
　　A faint colour showed in the young woman’s face.
　　‘I—I wasn’t sure what had become of it,’ she murmured. Poirot murmured: ‘You are so quick-witted, madame.’
第十五章
　　第十五章
　　“我已经准备就绪。”赫尔克里•波洛说。
　　他轻轻地叹了口气，向后退了两步，琢磨怎么布置酒店里的一个空房间。
　　卡伯里上校慵懒地靠在被推到墙边的床上，叼着烟斗，微笑着。“你这家伙真有意思，是吧，波洛，”他说，“喜欢夸张的表演。”
　　“也许——是的，”小个子波洛承认了，“但是，这并不全是任性胡闹。演喜剧首先要把舞台布置好。”
　　“是出喜剧？”
　　“就算是出悲剧，舞台装置也得恰当。”
　　卡伯里上校好奇地打量着他。
　　“好啦，都按你说的做！真不知道你究竟在搞什么，不过，我想，你已经发现什么了吧。”
　　“能满足你的要求，我感到荣幸——把真相告诉你。”
　　“你认为我们可以就此定罪吗？”
　　“这个，我的朋友，我可没向你承诺过。”
　　“是的。不过要是这样，没准我会更高兴，可以随机应变。”
　　“我的论点主要是关于心理学的。”波洛说。
　　卡伯里上校叹口气。“这正是我担心的。”
　　“但是，这些论点会说服你的，”波洛向他保证道，“没错，会说服的。我经常在想，真相，是一件奇异而又美妙的事情。”
　　卡伯里上校说：“见鬼，有时候也会让人不高兴的。”
　　“不，不，”波洛认真地说，“这是你从个人的观点来看的。你应该抽离出来，不带个人感情色彩地看问题，这样的话，事情的绝对逻辑就会让人着迷，并且井井有条。”
　　“我会努力这么做的。”上校说道。
　　波洛扫了一眼表——一块巨大的、奇形怪状的、像个大萝卜似的表。
　　“这块表是我祖父传下来的。”
　　“我想也是。”
　　“到时间了，”波洛说，“你，我的上校，请坐在桌子后面的主席位置上。”
　　“哦，好吧，”卡伯里嘀咕着，“你该不会让我穿制服吧？”
　　“哦，不，不会的，我来给你整理下领带。”说到做到，卡伯里上校又咧着嘴笑了。他坐在指定的位子上，没多久，就下意识地把领带拽偏了。
　　波洛稍稍挪了挪椅子，说：“这儿，坐博因顿一家。”
　　“这边，”他又说，“我们会让跟本案有明确关系的三个人坐在这里。一位是杰拉德医生，他的证词决定了起诉的证据；一位是莎拉•金小姐，她跟这个案子有两层关系，个人的利害关系，以及她作为验尸者的关系；最后一个是杰弗逊•柯普先生，他和博因顿一家关系密切，自然也有利害关系。”
　　他停住了。“啊哈——他们来了。”
　　他打开门，让众人走进来。
　　走在最前面的是雷诺克斯和妻子，接着是雷蒙德和卡罗尔。吉内芙拉是独自进来的，唇边隐隐露出一丝朦胧的笑意。最后面的是杰拉德医生和莎拉•金。过了一会儿，杰弗逊•柯普先生到了，他一边走进房间，一边道歉。
　　等他坐下之后，波洛上前一步。
　　“女士们，先生们，”他说，“这是一次非正式的聚会，因为我刚好在安曼。很荣幸，卡伯里上校向我咨询——”
　　有人打断了波洛，声音好像是来自一个最不可能的方向。雷诺克斯•博因顿突然用挑衅的口气说道：
　　“怎么回事？他到底为什么要让你牵涉到这件事里来？”
　　波洛潇洒地挥了挥手。
　　“死亡突然出现时，人们都会来找我。”
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿说：“不管什么时候，只要出现了心力衰竭，医生都会去找你吗？”
　　波洛温和地说：“心力衰竭是一个不严谨也不科学的说法。”
　　卡伯里上校清了清喉咙，这是一个职业性的开场，所以他说话的时候，语气也是公事公办式的。
　　“我觉得最好要弄清楚这件事。天气酷热，身体不好的老太太长途跋涉地旅行。目前为止，所有的事都很合理。但是，杰拉德医生过来找我，跟我说——”
　　他询问地看看波洛，后者点点头。
　　“杰拉德医生是全世界数一数二的医生，他的陈述一定会受到重视。他是这么说的：在博因顿老夫人去世的第二天早上，他注意到，他的药箱中，剂量不菲、对心脏影响巨大的药物不见了。前一天下午，他发现一个皮下注射器丢了。在老太太死亡的那天晚上，注射器又被送了回来。最后一件事——尸体的手腕上有一个小伤痕，跟皮下注射器所留下的针眼一模一样。”
　　卡伯里上校顿了顿。
　　“根据这些情况，我认为进行调查是当局的责任。碰巧，赫尔克里•波洛先生在我家做客，承蒙他的好意，愿意为我发挥他那卓越的才干。我将此事全权交给他处理。所以，现在大家聚在一起，听他的报告。”
　　房间里安静了，静得——就像俗话说的，掉根针在地上都能听见。实际上，隔壁房间确实有人把东西掉在地上了，也许是一只鞋。在这种寂静的氛围中，那声音听着像爆炸声似的。
　　波洛飞快地看了一眼他右边的三个人，然后，又看了看在他左边挤成一团的五个人——他们眼中全是恐慌。
　　波洛不动声色地说：“卡伯里上校跟我说到这件事的时候，作为一个专家，我对他说了我的看法。我告诉他，也许找不到证据——找不到可以说服陪审团相信的证据。但同时，我很明确地告诉他，我确定能找到真相——只要对相关的人进行提问。因为要调查罪案，只需让有罪的一个或几个人开口说话，最终，他们一定会说出你想知道的事！”他顿了顿。
　　“在这个案件中，”他说，“虽然你们对我说了假话，但仍然在无意中说出了真相。”
　　他听到右边传来一声微弱的叹息，还听到椅子跟地面摩擦发出的咯吱声。但是，他并没有往那边看，而是直直地盯着博因顿一家。
　　“首先，我研究了博因顿老夫人自然死亡的可能性，得出了否定的结论。不见了的药物和注射器，特别是死者家属的态度，这些都让我确信这个可能性是不存在的。
　　“博因顿老夫人是被人冷酷而残忍地杀死的，甚至，她的家人也知道这个真相！他们共同成为有罪的当事人。
　　“但是他们有罪的程度各不相同。为了查清这次谋杀——没错，就是谋杀——是不是老太太的家人共同计划实施的，我仔细地检查了各种证据。
　　“不得不说，动机是明显的。每个人都能从她的死亡中获益。不仅仅是经济方面——他们能够马上获得经济独立，享受巨额财富。另外，他们还可以从一个让人无法忍受的暴君手下解脱出来。
　　“但是，我马上就认定，合伙作案这个假设无法成立。博因顿一家人说的话，并不完全一致，而且也没有组织好系统、有效的不在场证据。这些事实说明，这个案子更像是一两个家庭成员做的，而其他人则是事后的从犯。接着，我考虑到底是哪个或者哪几个人做的。不得不说，我受到了一个只有我自己知道的证据的影响。”
　　波洛说出了他在耶路撒冷遇到的事。
　　“由此，怀疑的矛头自然对准了雷蒙德•博因顿先生，他很像本案的主谋。研究过这个家庭之后，我得出一个结论。那天晚上，他最有可能对他的妹妹说出秘密。无论是在相貌还是在气质上，他们俩都像极了，想法肯定也相似。并且，两个人都有些神经质，还有点叛逆，这正是策划这种行动的必要因素。他们的动机并不是完全自私的——想拯救全家人，尤其是他们的小妹妹。这样似乎让他们制订计划的行动显得更为合理。”波洛停了一会儿。
　　雷蒙德•博因顿半张着嘴，随即又闭上了。他盯着波洛，眼神里透出一种无言的痛苦。
　　“在详细讲解关于雷蒙德•博因顿的不利证据之前，我想给你们读一读这份重要的明细。这张单子是我今天下午写的，并交给了卡伯里上校。
　　要点
　　1.博因顿老夫人服用了含毛地黄的混合药物
　　2.杰拉德医生丢了一个皮下注射器
　　3.博因顿老夫人阻止家人跟外人交往，以此为乐4.事情发生的当天下午，博因顿老夫人鼓励家人离开，只剩自己一个人5.博因顿老夫人是个心理虐待狂
　　6.大帐篷距离博因顿老夫人所坐的地方（约）二百码7.雷诺克斯•博因顿先生一开始说自己不知道回营地是在几点，但后来承认替他母亲对过表
　　8.杰拉德医生的帐篷跟吉内芙拉的挨着
　　9.六点半，晚饭准备好了的时候，一个仆人去通知博因顿老夫人10.博因顿老夫人在耶路撒冷曾这样说：‘我从不忘记，记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事……’
　　“虽然这些事项都是逐条写下来的，但是它们之间也两两相对。比如前面两点：‘博因顿老夫人服用了含毛地黄的混合药物’‘杰拉德医生丢了一个皮下注射器’。这两项一开始就引起了我的注意。可以说，我觉得这两点非同小可，而且前后矛盾。你们明白我在说什么吗？没事，我一会儿再说这个问题。我注意到了这两点，认为必须得有个合理的解释。
　　“现在，我会总结一下我对雷蒙德•博因顿犯罪的可能性的研究。事实是这样的：有人听到过他说杀死博因顿老夫人的可能性。并且，他处于一种容易激动的精神状态。他——小姐，抱歉——”他对莎拉点了点头，表示歉意，“他刚刚经历了一场巨大的情感危机，就是，他恋爱了。这种情感上的亢奋状态，有可能导致他选择以下几种方法之一。面对整个世界，包括他继母，他觉得自己成熟了，可以心平气和地解决这个问题——也许他最终有了勇气去反抗她，摆脱她的影响；也许他只是找到了额外的驱动力，把他的犯罪从理论变为行动。这就是心理学！现在，让我们看一看事实。
　　“雷蒙德•博因顿和其他人在一点十五分左右离开营地，那时候博因顿老夫人还好好地活着。没多久，雷蒙德和莎拉两个人说起话来。之后，他离开了她。根据他所说的，五点五十分他回到营地，去见了他母亲，跟她说了几句话，然后回了自己的帐篷。后来，他去了大帐篷。他说在五点五十分的时候，老夫人还活着。
　　“但是，出现了一个与之相反的事实。六点半，仆人发现博因顿老夫人死了。有医生资格的金小姐检查了尸体。她明明白白地发誓说，虽然当时自己并没有注意到死亡时间，但是能确定的是，死亡时间绝对比五点钟要早——很可能早很多。
　　“这两种说法完全矛盾。撇开金小姐判断错误的可能性——”
　　莎拉打断了他的话。“我没错。如果错了，我会承认的。”
　　她语气严肃，吐字清晰。
　　波洛礼貌地对她点点头。
　　“那就只有两种可能性了——不是金小姐在撒谎，就是博因顿先生在撒谎！让我们看一看博因顿先生撒谎的理由吧。假设金小姐没错，也没撒谎，那情况是怎样的呢？雷蒙德•博因顿回到了营地，看到母亲坐在洞穴口，他走过去，发现她死了。然后他做了什么？求救了吗？马上通知营地的人？都没有。他等了一小会儿，然后直接回到自己的营地，又去了大帐篷跟其他家人会合，对这件事只字未提。这种行为极其怪异，对吧？”
　　雷蒙德紧张不安地尖声问道：
　　“当然了，这很白痴。所以，你应该清楚，那时候就像我说的，我母亲活得好好的。当时金小姐太紧张了，所以犯了错。”
　　“我问自己，”波洛平静地继续说道，“他为什么要这么做呢？表面上看，雷蒙德不可能是有罪的，因为大家都知道，那天下午，他只靠近过他继母一次，而她在此之前已经死了有一段时间了。由此，假设雷蒙德•博因顿无罪，那我们如何解释他的行为呢？
　　“就像我说的，他的行为是可以解释的！我记得我无意中听到的一些对话：‘你明白的，不是吗？她必须得死！’他散步回来后，发现她已经死了，他那有罪的记忆立刻想到某种可能性。计划已经实施了，不是他，而是他的同谋做的。很简单，他怀疑自己的妹妹卡罗尔，有罪。”
　　“你撒谎。”雷蒙德的声音低沉而颤抖。
　　波洛继续说道：
　　“那么，让我看看卡罗尔•博因顿是凶手的可能性。有什么不利于她的证据呢？同样，她也有容易激动的气质——这种气质也许会给她的所作所为增添一份英雄主义色彩。在耶路撒冷的那天晚上，跟雷蒙德•博因顿说话的人，就是她。卡罗尔五点十分回到了营地，根据她的证词，她去见了她母亲。没有证人。营地里一个人都没有——仆人们都在睡觉。爵士夫人、皮尔斯小姐和柯普先生去参观洞穴，他们看不到营地的情况。没有目击者，时间上也吻合。因此，在这个案子中，很容易就能得到对卡罗尔•博因顿的不利证据。
　　“还有一件事。第二天清晨，有人看到卡罗尔•博因顿把一个什么东西扔进小溪里。我有理由相信，这个东西就是皮下注射器。”
　　“什么？”杰拉德医生吃惊地抬起头，“可是，我的注射器已经还了回来，没错，就在我这儿。”
　　波洛使劲点着头。
　　“是啊，是啊。这是第二个皮下注射器，非常稀奇、非常有趣。有人想让我以为这个皮下注射器是金小姐的。对吧？”
　　莎拉犹豫了片刻。
　　卡罗尔飞快地说：“不是金小姐的，是我的。”
　　“那么，你承认是你扔的了？”
　　她只犹豫了一秒钟。
　　“没错。当然了。为什么不行？”
　　“卡罗尔！”是娜丁，她探身向前，睁大双眼，眼神痛苦，“卡罗尔……哦，我不明白……”
　　卡罗尔扭过头看着她，眼神中有些敌对。
　　“没什么不明白的！我扔了一个旧的注射器，我压根儿没碰过那个——那个毒药。”
　　莎拉插嘴说：“皮尔斯小姐说的是真的，波洛先生，那是我的注射器。”
　　波洛笑了。
　　“注射器这件事，可真让人百思不得其解啊。不过，我能说得通。啊，现在，我们得出了两个事实——雷蒙德•博因顿无罪，而他妹妹卡罗尔有罪。然而我一向都是小心谨慎、恪守公平的，总会看到事物的两面。让我们看一看，如果卡罗尔•博因顿无罪，那将发生什么。
　　“她回到营地，去继母那儿，发现她——死了！她想到的第一件事是什么？她会怀疑是自己的哥哥杀死了她，而她不知道该怎么办。所以，她什么都没说。大约在一个小时以后，雷蒙德•博因顿回来了，装作跟他母亲说话，之后对母亲已死这件事一个字都没提。也许她去了他的帐篷，在里面发现了一个注射器，所以，她更加肯定了！她迅速把它拿走并藏了起来，等到第二天一大早，就把它扔得远远的。
　　“还有一件事能说明卡罗尔•博因顿是无辜的。当我询问她的时候，她对我保证，她和她哥哥根本就没打算去实施他们的计划。我让她发誓，于是她立刻严肃地发誓说她没有犯罪。你们看，她就是这么说的。她没有发誓说他们是无罪的，她只为自己发了誓，并不包含她哥哥——她还以为我不会特别注意到她使用的代词。
　　“嗯，这就是证明卡罗尔•博因顿无罪的事实。现在，退一步考虑雷蒙德•博因顿有罪的可能性。让我们假设卡罗尔说的是实话，博因顿夫人五点十分的时候还活着，那么，在什么情况下，雷蒙德可能有罪？我们可以设想一下，五点五十分的时候，他去看他母亲并且杀死了她。不错，营地周围有很多仆人，但是，天色已晚，光线昏暗，因此正好可以下手。但是，这样的话，也意味着金小姐撒谎了。别忘了，她回到营地时，只比雷蒙德晚了五分钟。从这段距离而言，她能看到他去找他母亲了。后来，她知道博因顿老夫人死了，于是意识到是雷蒙德杀死了她。为了救他，金小姐说了谎话——知道杰拉德医生发了烧，病倒在床上，无法揭穿她的谎言！”
　　“我没撒谎。”莎拉清楚地说道。
　　“还有一种可能性。正如我刚才说的，金小姐比雷蒙德晚五分钟回到营地。如果雷蒙德看到他母亲还活着，那么也许就是金小姐扎了那致命的一针。她早就认定博因顿老夫人邪恶无比。也许，她把自己当成了正义的法官。这样就能很好地解释她在死亡事件上撒的谎了。”
　　莎拉的脸变得苍白，她低沉而镇定地说：
　　“我的确说过牺牲一个人来拯救很多人，这是一个权宜之计。但那是在圣地祭坛产生的想法。我可以发誓，我从来没伤害过那个令人厌恶的老太太——我脑子中从来就没有过这种想法！”
　　“然而，”波洛轻轻地说，“你们两个人中，肯定有一个在撒谎。”
　　雷蒙德•博因顿在椅子里动了动，性急地大声说：
　　“你赢了，波洛先生！是我撒了谎。我到母亲那儿的时候，她已经去世了。这——让我震惊极了。要知道，我本来是打算去跟她说清楚的，告诉她，从今往后，我就是个自由的人了。我已经准备好了，可她——死了！她的双手冰冷而无力。于是我以为——就像你说得那样。我以为是卡罗尔——因为，她手腕上有个针眼……”
　　波洛飞快地说：“这是唯一一个我想不太明白的事。你原本计划用什么方法？你有个方法——而且跟皮下注射器有关。这我是知道的。如果你想让我相信你，必须告诉我其余的事情。”
　　雷蒙德急忙说道：“这是我在一本书上看到的方法——一本英国侦探小说——把一只空的注射器刺进人体内，就会发生奇迹。听上去挺科学的。我——我们原本打算那样做。”
　　“啊，”波洛说，“我明白了，你买了一个注射器？”
　　“没有。其实，我是从娜丁那儿偷来的。”
　　波洛飞快地看了她一眼。“耶路撒冷那个行李袋中的注射器？”他嘟囔道。
　　年轻女人的脸有些发红。
　　“我——我不确定它在哪儿。”她说。
　　波洛嘀咕道：“你真聪明，夫人。”
Chapter 16
　　Chapter 16
　　There was a pause. Then clearing his throat with a slightly affected sound, Poirot went on:
　　‘We have now solved the mystery of what I might term the second hypodermic. That belongedto Mrs Lennox Boynton, was taken by Raymond Boynton before leaving Jerusalem, was taken fromRaymond by Carol after the discovery of Mrs Boynton’s dead body, was thrown away by her, foundby Miss Pierce, and claimed by Miss King as hers. I presume Miss King has it now.’
　　‘I have,’ said Sarah.
　　‘So that when you said it was yours just now, you were doing what you told us you do not do—you told a lie.’
　　Sarah said calmly: ‘That’s a different kind of lie. It isn’t—it isn’t a professional lie.’
　　Gerard nodded appreciation.
　　‘Yes, it is a point that. I understand you perfectly, mademoiselle.’
　　‘Thanks,’ said Sarah.
　　Again Poirot cleared his throat.
　　‘Let us now review our time-table. Thus:
　　Boyntons and Jefferson Cope leave the camp 3.5 (approx.)Dr Gerard and Sarah King leave the camp 3.15 (approx.)Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce leave the camp 4.15Dr Gerard returns to camp 4.20 (approx.)
　　Lennox Boynton returns to camp 4.35
　　Nadine Boynton returns to camp and talks to MrsBoynton
　　4.40
　　Nadine Boynton leaves her mother-in-law and goesto marquee
　　4.50 (approx.)
　　Carol Boynton returns to camp 5.10
　　Lady Westholme, Miss Pierce and Mr JeffersonCope return to camp
　　5.40
　　Raymond Boynton returns to camp 5.50
　　Sarah King returns to camp 6.0
　　Body discovered 6.30
　　‘There is, you will notice, a gap of twenty minutes between four-fifty when Nadine Boynton left hermother-in-law and five-ten when Carol returned. Therefore, if Carol is speaking the truth, MrsBoynton must have been killed in that twenty minutes.
　　‘Now who could have killed her? At that time Miss King and Raymond Boynton were together.
　　Mr Cope (not that he had any perceivable motive for killing her) has an alibi. He was with LadyWestholme and Miss Pierce. Lennox Boynton was with his wife in the marquee. Dr Gerard wasgroaning with fever in his tent. The camp is deserted, the boys are asleep. It is a suitable moment fora crime! Was there a person who could have committed it?’
　　His eyes went thoughtfully to Ginevra Boynton.
　　‘There was one person. Ginevra Boynton was in her tent all the afternoon. That is what we havebeen told—but actually there is evidence that she was not in her tent all the time. Ginevra Boyntonmade a very significant remark. She said that Dr Gerard spoke her name in his fever. And Dr Gerardhas also told us that he dreamt in his fever of Ginevra Boynton’s face. But it was not a dream! It wasactually her face he saw, standing there by his bed. He thought it an effect of fever—but it was thetruth. Ginevra was in Dr Gerard’s tent. Is it not possible that she had come to put back thehypodermic syringe after using it?’
　　Ginevra Boynton raised her head with its crown of red-gold hair. Her wide beautiful eyes staredat Poirot. They were singularly expressionless. She looked like a vague saint.
　　‘Ah, ?a non!’ cried Dr Gerard.
　　‘Is it, then, so psychologically impossible?’ inquired Poirot.
　　The Frenchman’s eyes dropped.
　　Nadine Boynton said sharply: ‘It’s quite impossible!’
　　Poirot’s eyes came quickly round to her.
　　‘Impossible, madame?’
　　‘Yes.’ She paused, bit her lip, then went on, ‘I will not hear of such a disgraceful accusationagainst my young sister-in-law. We—all of us—know it to be impossible.’
　　Ginevra moved a little on her chair. The lines of her mouth relaxed into a smile—the touching,innocent half-unconscious smile of a very young girl.
　　Nadine said again: ‘Impossible.’
　　Her gentle face had hardened into lines of determination. The eyes that met Poirot’s were hardand unflinching.
　　Poirot leaned forward in what was half a bow.
　　‘Madame is very intelligent,’ he said.
　　Nadine said quietly: ‘What do you mean by that, M. Poirot?’
　　‘I mean, madame, that all along I have realized that you have what I believe is called an“excellent headpiece”.’
　　‘You flatter me.’
　　‘I think not. All along you have envisaged the situation calmly and collectively. You haveremained on outwardly good terms with your husband’s mother, deeming that the best thing to bedone, but inwardly you have judged and condemned her. I think that some time ago you realized thatthe only chance for your husband’s happiness was for him to make an effort to leave home—strikeout on his own no matter how difficult and penurious such a life might be. You were willing to takeall risks and you endeavoured to influence him to exactly that course of action. But you failed,madame. Lennox Boynton had no longer the will to freedom. He was content to sink into a conditionof apathy and melancholy.
　　‘Now I have no doubt at all, madame, but that you love your husband. Your decision to leavehim was not actuated by a greater love for another man. It was, I think, a desperate ventureundertaken as a last hope. A woman in your position could only try three things. She could tryappeal. That, as I have said, failed. She could threaten to leave herself. But it is possible that even thatthreat would not have moved Lennox Boynton. It would plunge him deeper in misery, but it wouldnot cause him to rebel. There was one last desperate throw. You could go away with another man.
　　Jealousy and the instinct of possession is one of the most deeply rooted fundamental instincts in man.
　　You showed your wisdom in trying to reach that deep underground savage instinct. If LennoxBoynton would let you go without an effort to another man—then he must indeed be beyond humanaid, and you might as well then try to make a new life for yourself elsewhere.
　　‘But let us suppose that even that last desperate remedy failed. Your husband was terribly upsetat your decision, but in spite of that he did not, as you had hoped, react as a primitive man might havedone with an uprush of the possessive instinct. Was there anything at all that could save your husbandfrom his own rapidly failing mental condition? Only one thing. If his stepmother were to die, it mightnot be too late. He might be able to start life anew as a free man, building up in himself independenceand manliness once more.’
　　Poirot paused, then repeated gently: ‘If your mother-in-law were to die…’
　　Nadine’s eyes were still fixed on him. In an unmoved gentle voice she said: ‘You are suggestingthat I helped to bring that event about, are you not? But you cannot do so, M. Poirot. After I hadbroken the news of my impending departure to Mrs Boynton, I went straight to the marquee andjoined Lennox. I did not leave it again until my mother-in-law was found dead. Guilty of her death Imay be, in the sense that I gave her a shock—that, of course, presupposes a natural death. But if, asyou say (though so far you have no direct evidence of it and cannot have until an autopsy has takenplace) she was deliberately killed, then I had no opportunity of doing so.’
　　Poirot said: ‘You did not leave the marquee again until your mother-in-law was found dead.
　　That is what you have just said. That, Mrs Boynton, was one of the points I found curious about thiscase.’
　　‘What do you mean?’
　　‘It is here on my list. Point nine. At half- past six, when dinner was ready, a servant wasdispatched to announce the fact to Mrs Boynton.’
　　Raymond said: ‘I don’t understand.’
　　Carol said: ‘No more do I.’
　　Poirot looked from one to the other of them.
　　‘You do not, eh? “A servant was sent”— why a servant? Were you not, all of you, mostassiduous in your attendance on the old lady as a general rule? Did not one or other of you alwaysescort her to meals? She was infirm. It was difficult for her to rise from a chair without assistance.
　　Always one or other of you was at her elbow. I suggest then, that on dinner being announced thenatural thing would have been for one or other of her family to go out and help her. But not one ofyou offered to do so. You all sat there, paralyzed, watching each other, wondering, perhaps, why noone went.’
　　Nadine said sharply: ‘All this is absurd, M. Poirot! We were all tired that evening. We ought tohave gone, I admit, but—on that evening—we just didn’t!’
　　‘Precisely—precisely—on that particular evening! You, madame, did perhaps more waiting onher than anyone else. It was one of the duties that you accepted mechanically. But that evening youdid not offer to go out to help her in. Why? That is what I asked myself—why? And I tell you myanswer. Because you knew quite well that she was dead…‘No, no, do not interrupt me, madame.’ He raised an impassioned hand. ‘You will now listen tome—Hercule Poirot! There were witnesses to your conversation with your mother-in-law. Witnesseswho could see but could not hear! Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce were a long way away. Theysaw you apparently having a conversation with your mother-in-law, but what actual evidence is thereof what occurred? I will propound to you instead a little theory. You have brains, madame. If in yourquiet unhurried fashion you have decided on—shall we say the elimination of your husband’s mother—you will carry it out with intelligence and with due preparation. You have access to Dr Gerard’stent during his absence on the morning excursion. You are fairly sure that you will find a suitabledrug. Your nursing training helps you there. You choose digitoxin—the same kind of drug that theold lady is taking—you also take his hypodermic syringe since, to your annoyance, your own hasdisappeared. You hope to replace the syringe before the doctor notices its absence.’
　　‘Before proceeding to carry out your plan, you make one last attempt to stir your husband intoaction. You tell him of your intention to marry Jefferson Cope. Though your husband is terribly upsethe does not react as you had hoped—so you are forced to put your plan of murder into action. Youreturn to the camp exchanging a pleasant natural word with Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce as youpass. You go up to where your mother-in-law is sitting. You have the syringe with the drug in itready. It is easy to seize her wrist and—proficient as you are with your nurse’s training—force homethe plunger. It is done before your mother-in-law realizes what you are doing. From far down thevalley the others only see you talking to her, bending over her. Then deliberately you go and fetch achair and sit there apparently engaged in an amicable conversation for some minutes. Death musthave been almost instantaneous. It is a dead woman to whom you sit talking, but who shall guessthat? Then you put away the chair and go down to the marquee, where you find your husband readinga book. And you are careful not to leave that marquee! Mrs Boynton’s death, you are sure, will be putdown to heart trouble. (It will, indeed, be due to heart trouble.) In only one thing have your plansgone astray. You cannot return the syringe to Dr Gerard’s tent because the doctor is in there shiveringwith malaria—and although you do not know it, he has already missed the syringe. That, madame,was the flaw in an otherwise perfect crime.’
　　There was silence—a moment’s dead silence—then Lennox Boynton sprang to his feet.
　　‘No,’ he shouted. ‘That’s a damned lie. Nadine did nothing. She couldn’t have done anything.
　　My mother—my mother was already dead.’
　　‘Ah?’ Poirot’s eyes came gently round to him. ‘So, after all, it was you who killed her, MrBoynton.’
　　Again a moment’s pause—then Lennox dropped back into his chair and raised trembling handsto his face.
　　‘Yes—that’s right—I killed her.’
　　‘You took the digitoxin from Dr Gerard’s tent?’
　　‘Yes.’
　　‘When?’
　　‘As—as—you said—in the morning.’
　　‘And the syringe?’
　　‘The syringe? Yes.’
　　‘Why did you kill her?’
　　‘Can you ask?’
　　‘I am asking, Mr Boynton!’
　　‘But you know—my wife was leaving me—with Cope—’
　　‘Yes, but you only learnt that in the afternoon.’
　　Lennox stared at him. ‘Of course. When we were out—’
　　‘But you took the poison and the syringe in the morning—before you knew?’
　　‘Why the hell do you badger me with questions?’ He paused and passed a shaking hand acrosshis forehead. ‘What does it matter, anyway?’
　　‘It matters a great deal. I advise you, Mr Lennox Boynton, to tell me the truth.’
　　‘The truth?’ Lennox stared at him.
　　‘That is what I said—the truth.’
　　‘By God, I will,’ said Lennox suddenly. ‘But I don’t know whether you will believe me.’ Hedrew a deep breath. ‘That afternoon, when I left Nadine, I was absolutely all to pieces. I’d neverdreamed she’d go from me to someone else. I was—I was nearly mad! I felt as though I was drunk orrecovering from a bad illness.’
　　Poirot nodded. He said: ‘I noted Lady Westholme’s description of your gait when you passedher. That is why I knew your wife was not speaking the truth when she said she told you after youwere both back at the camp. Continue, Mr Boynton.’
　　‘I hardly knew what I was doing…But as I got near, my brain seemed to clear. It flashed overme that I had only myself to blame! I’d been a miserable worm! I ought to have defied mystepmother and cleared out years ago. And it came to me that it mightn’t be too late even now. Thereshe was, the old devil, sitting up like an obscene idol against the red cliffs. I went right up to have itout with her. I meant to tell her just what I thought and to announce that I was clearing out. I had awild idea I might get away at once that evening—clear out with Nadine and get as far as Ma’an,anyway, that night.’
　　‘Oh, Lennox—my dear—’
　　It was a long, soft sigh.
　　He went on: ‘And then, my God—you could have struck me down with a touch! She was dead.
　　Sitting there—dead…I—I didn’t know what to do—I was dumb—dazed—everything I was going toshout out at her bottled up inside me—turning to lead—I can’t explain…Stone—that’s what it feltlike—being turned to stone. I did something mechanically—I picked up her wrist-watch—it waslying in her lap—and put it round her wrist—her horrid limp dead wrist…’
　　He shuddered. ‘God—it was awful…Then I stumbled down, went into the marquee. I ought tohave called someone, I suppose—but I couldn’t. I just sat there, turning the pages—waiting…’
　　He stopped.
　　‘You won’t believe that—you can’t. Why didn’t I call someone? Tell Nadine? I don’t know.’
　　Dr Gerard cleared his throat.
　　‘Your statement is perfectly plausible, Mr Boynton,’ he said. ‘You were in a bad nervouscondition. Two severe shocks administered in rapid succession would be quite enough to put you inthe condition you have described. It is the Weissenhalter reaction—best exemplified in the case of abird that has dashed its head against a window. Even after its recovery it refrains instinctively fromall action—giving itself time to readjust the nerve centres—I do not express myself well in English,but what I mean is this: You could not have acted any other way. Any decisive action of any kindwould have been quite impossible for you! You passed through a period of mental paralysis.’
　　He turned to Poirot.
　　‘I assure you, my friend, that is so!’
　　‘Oh, I do not doubt it,’ said Poirot. ‘There was a little fact I had already noted—the fact that MrBoynton had replaced his mother’s wrist-watch—that was capable of two explanations—it mighthave been a cover for the actual deed, or it might have been observed and misinterpreted by MrsBoynton. She returned only five minutes after her husband. She must therefore have seen that action.
　　When she got up to her mother-in-law and found her dead with a mark of a hypodermic syringe onher wrist she would naturally jump to the conclusion that her husband had committed the deed—thather announcement of her decision to leave him had produced a reaction in him different from that forwhich she had hoped. Briefly, Nadine Boynton believed that she had inspired her husband to commitmurder.’
　　He looked at Nadine. ‘That is so, madame?’
　　She bowed her head. Then she asked:
　　‘Did you really suspect me, M. Poirot?’
　　‘I thought you were a possibility, madame.’
　　She leaned forward.
　　‘And now? What really happened, M. Poirot?’
第十六章
　　第十六章
　　一片沉默。波洛故意清了清喉咙，然后说：
　　“现在，我们已经解开了我称之为‘第二个注射器’的谜底。它是雷诺克斯•博因顿夫人的，离开耶路撒冷之前，被雷蒙德•博因顿拿走了。博因顿老夫人的尸体被发现之后，卡罗尔又从雷蒙德那里拿走扔掉，并被皮尔斯小姐看到了。金小姐说那是她的。我认为，注射器现在在金小姐那里。”
　　“是的。”莎拉说。
　　“所以，你说注射器是你的，意味着你做了一件你跟我们保证说你绝不会做的事——你撒谎了。”
　　莎拉镇静地说：“这是两种类型的谎话。不——不涉及我的职业素养。”
　　杰拉德赞赏地点了点头。
　　“说得很好。我理解你，小姐。”
　　“谢谢。”莎拉说。
　　波洛又清了清嗓子。
　　“现在，我们看一看时间表：
　　博因顿家和杰弗逊•柯普离开营地 三点零五分（约）杰拉德医生和莎拉•金离开营地 三点十五分（约）爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐离开营地 四点十五分
　　杰拉德医生回到营地 四点二十分（约）
　　雷诺克斯•博因顿回到营地 四点三十五分
　　娜丁•博因顿回到营地，跟博因顿老夫人说话 四点四十分娜丁•博因顿离开婆婆去大帐篷 四点五十分（约）卡罗尔•博因顿回到营地 五点十分
　　爵士夫人、皮尔斯小姐和杰弗逊•柯普回到营地 五点四十分雷蒙德•博因顿回到营地 五点五十分
　　莎拉•金回到营地 六点
　　发现尸体 六点三十分
　　“你们会注意到，从娜丁•博因顿四点五十分离开婆婆，到卡罗尔五点十分回到营地，这中间隔了二十分钟。如果卡罗尔说的是实话，那么，博因顿老夫人一定是在这段时间被杀的。
　　“谁有可能杀死她呢？在那段时间，金小姐和雷蒙德•博因顿在一起，柯普先生（不是指他有什么明显的要杀死她的动机）有不在场证明，因为他和爵士夫人还有皮尔斯小姐在一块儿。雷诺克斯•博因顿和他妻子在帐篷里。杰拉德医生则因为发烧而躺在自己的帐篷里呻吟。营地上一个人都没有，仆人们都在睡觉。正是犯罪的好时机！有没有这么一个人，会实施犯罪呢？”
　　他的眼睛若有所思地看向吉内芙拉•博因顿。
　　“有一个人。吉内芙拉•博因顿一下午都在自己的帐篷里。但这只是我们听说的——实际上，有证据显示她并非一直都在那儿。吉内芙拉•博因顿说了一句非常关键的话。她说，杰拉德医生发烧的时候一直呼唤她的名字。杰拉德医生也跟我们说过，他发烧的时候梦见了吉内芙拉•博因顿的脸。但，那并不是一个梦！他看到的，真的是她的脸。当时，她就站在他的床边。他以为这是发烧而产生的幻觉，但是，这是真实发生的。吉内芙拉在杰拉德医生的帐篷里。有没有可能是她用完注射器又还了回去呢？”
　　吉内芙拉•博因顿抬起头，金红色的头发就像一顶皇冠罩在她的头上，一双美丽的大眼睛空洞地盯着波洛，看上去宛若梦幻中的圣女。
　　“啊，不是的 [1] ！”杰拉德医生大声说道。
　　“从心理学的角度来看，完全没有可能吗？”波洛问。
　　法国人垂下了眼帘。
　　娜丁•博因顿尖声说道：“这根本不可能！”
　　波洛的目光飞快地转向了她。
　　“不可能，夫人？”
　　“没错。”她顿了顿，摇了摇嘴唇，然后，说道，“这种对金妮的指控，我是不会允许的。我们——我们所有人——都知道这不可能。”
　　吉内芙拉在椅子里轻轻地摇了摇，嘴角的线条不再紧绷，变成了微笑——一个小女孩动人、无邪、毫不自知的微笑。
　　娜丁又说了一遍：“不可能。”
　　她那柔和的面部曲线变得僵硬起来，表情坚定。跟波洛对视的时候，眼睛里满是严厉和无所畏惧。
　　波洛向前探了探身，半鞠了一躬。
　　“夫人很聪明。”他说。
　　娜丁平静地说：“你这话是什么意思，波洛先生？”
　　“我是说，夫人，我早就发现你头脑出众了。”
　　“你在恭维我。”
　　“我认为不是。你一直都在冷静而顾全大局地正视现实问题。表面上，你跟你丈夫的母亲和平相处，因为，你觉得这么做是最恰当的。但是，在内心深处，你审判她，并且定了她的死罪。我想，在不久前，你意识到，你丈夫获得幸福的唯一机会就是努力离开这个家，不管将来的生活有多穷困，他都需要自己去争取。你甘冒一切风险，极力去影响他，想让他这么去做。但是，你失败了，夫人。雷诺克斯•博因顿已然不再向往自由，而是心甘情愿地陷入了冷漠与忧郁之中。
　　“现在，我一点都不怀疑，夫人，你是爱你丈夫的。你下定决心离开他，不是因为对别的男人产生了更深刻的爱。我想，这是你为了最后的希望而做的最后的努力。处在你这个位置的女人，只有三条路可走。她会试着恳求。这个我说过，已经失败了。她可以用离开威胁他。但是，有可能这种威胁都不能让罗诺克斯有所动摇。这只能让他在苦难中陷得更深，但不会刺激他奋起反抗。最后就是一个绝望的赌注。跟其他男人一起离开。嫉妒和占有的本能是男人内心之中根深蒂固的、最基础的本能。你想努力唤醒这种深层的原始本能，这就是你的智慧所在。如果雷诺克斯轻而易举地看着你跟另一个男人离开——那么，他就真的非人力所能拯救了。而你，也只好为了自己，在其他地方开始新生活了。
　　“但是现在，让我们假设一下，就连这最后的一个赌注也失败了。知道你的决定后，你丈夫心乱如麻，然而，他没有像你希望的那样，在原始男性的占有欲的刺激下而做出某些举动。还有什么方法能将你丈夫从那糟糕的精神状态中解放出来吗？只有一个办法了。如果他的继母死了，一切可能还来得及。他会作为一个自由的人开始新的生活，重建自己的独立性和男人气概。”
　　波洛顿了顿，然后轻轻叹了口气，重复地说：“如果你婆婆死了……”
　　娜丁的眼睛死死地盯着他，用一种不为所动的、平静的语气说道：“你想说是我做的，对吗？你错了，波洛先生。我对博因顿老夫人说我很快就要离开，然后直接去大帐篷找雷诺克斯了。一直到我婆婆被发现死亡，我都没离开过那里。也许，我对她的死有内疚感，因为我刺激到她了——当然，前提是她是自然死亡的。但是，如果像你说的（虽然迄今为止你并没有直接证据，而且尸检还没开始，你也不可能有），她是被谋杀的，那么，我根本就没机会动手。”
　　波洛说：“在发现你婆婆去世之前，你都没有离开过大帐篷。这是你刚才说过的。博因顿夫人，这正是本案中，我所不能理解的几个疑点之一。”
　　“什么意思？”
　　“在我的单子上写着呢。第九条：六点半，晚饭准备好了，一个仆人被派去通知博因顿老夫人。”
　　雷蒙德说：“我不明白你的意思。”
　　卡罗尔说：“我也是。”
　　波洛逐一打量着他们。
　　“你们不明白？呃？‘一个仆人被派去’——为什么是一个仆人？你们，你们所有人，难道不是都在殷勤地伺候着老太太吗？难道不是总会有人护送着她去吃晚饭吗？她身体不好，没有人搀扶的话，从椅子里站起来是很困难的。总会有人在她跟前服侍着。所以，我认为晚饭准备好了，那么她的家人自然会有一两个要过去搀扶她。可是，你们当中没有一个人愿意这么干。你们全都有气无力地坐在那儿，面面相觑，猜度着为什么没人动弹。”
　　娜丁严厉地说：“太荒谬了，波洛先生！那天晚上我们都很累。我们应该去，我承认，但是——那天晚上——我们碰巧都没去！”
　　“正是——正是。那个特别的晚上！夫人，跟其他人相比，可能你陪在她身边的时间更多一些。你早就机械地认同了这个责任。但是，那天晚上，你并没有提出要去帮忙把她搀扶进来。为什么？我问自己——为什么？我可以告诉你我的答案。因为，你清楚地知道，她已经死了——
　　“别，别打断我，夫人，”他充满激情地举起一只手，“请听我说——听我赫尔克里•波洛说！有人听见了你跟你婆婆的对话。一个能看到却听不到的证人！爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐距离你们很远，她们看到你好像在跟你婆婆说话。但具体情形如何，有什么确凿的证据吗？我会告诉你一个小小的理论。你有头脑，夫人。以你冷静从容的风格判断，如果你下决心杀死你丈夫的母亲，那你会做好充分的准备，精心策划。你可以利用杰拉德医生上午远足的时候偷偷溜进他的帐篷。你肯定能找到可以利用的药物。在这个问题上，你所接受的护士训练帮助了你。你选择了毛地黄毒苷——跟老太太服用的药是一样的。你还拿走了他的皮下注射器，因为你很沮丧地发现自己的那个不见了。你希望，在杰拉德医生尚未发现时，能把注射器放回去。
　　“在实施你的计划之前，你最后一次努力激起你丈夫的行动意志。你告诉他，你准备嫁给杰弗逊•柯普。你丈夫虽然伤心，但是并没有表现出你所期待的反应，所以，你被迫把你的杀人计划付诸行动。你回到营地，路上遇见了爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐，并且愉快而自然地跟她们说了两句话。你去了你婆婆坐着的地方，你的注射器里已经装好了药水。抓住她的手腕很容易——因为你受过专业的护士训练，因此动作娴熟——把药水推了进去。在你婆婆反应过来之前，你已经完成了这一系列的动作。山下的人，因为离得远，只能看到你弯腰跟她讲话。之后，你特意去搬了一把椅子坐了下来，做出一副跟她密切交谈了几分钟的样子。因为，谁能猜到你是坐着跟一个死人在说话？之后，你把椅子搬走，到下面的大帐篷里去。在那儿，你发现你丈夫在看书。你很小心，寸步不离大帐篷！你很肯定，大家会认为博因顿老夫人是死于心脏病（其实她确实是因为心脏病发而死）。你的计划之中，只有一个破绽。杰拉德医生因为疟疾发作而躺在床上，你没办法把注射器还回去——而且，你并不知道医生早已发现注射器丢了。夫人，这就是这桩罪案中唯一美中不足的纰漏。”
　　一片寂静——死一般的寂静。随后，雷诺克斯•博因顿突然站起身。
　　“不是！”他大叫，“见鬼，一派胡言！娜丁什么都没做。她不可能做任何事。我母亲——我母亲那时候已经死了。”
　　“啊？”波洛的目光缓缓地转向他，“所以，是你杀死她的，博因顿先生。”
　　又是沉默——接着，雷诺克斯跌在椅子里，用颤抖的双手捂住了脸。
　　“是的——没错——是我杀了她。”
　　“是你从杰拉德医生的帐篷里拿走了毛地黄毒苷？”
　　“是的。”
　　“什么时候？”
　　“就像——就像你说的——早上。”
　　“还有注射器？”
　　“注射器？对。”
　　“你为什么杀她？”
　　“还用问吗？”
　　“我就是在问你，博因顿先生！”
　　“可是——你知道，我妻子要离开我了——跟柯普——”
　　“没错，不过你是下午才知道这件事的。”
　　雷诺克斯瞪着他。“当然是下午了，我们出去的时候——”
　　“可你上午就拿走了毒药和注射器——在你知道之前？”
　　“该死的，你干吗用这些问题来逼我？”他顿了顿，用一只颤抖的手擦着额头，“这又有什么关系？”
　　“关系重大。我劝你，雷诺克斯•博因顿先生，你最好对我说实话。”
　　“实话？”雷诺克斯盯着他。
　　“对。”
　　“天哪，好吧。”雷诺克斯突然说，“但我不知道你会不会相信我。”他深深吸了口气，“那天下午，当我离开娜丁时，差不多要垮掉了。我从没想过她会离开我，跟别的男人离开。我——我都快疯了！我感觉自己就像喝醉了酒，或者大病初愈。”
　　波洛点点头。“我注意到，爵士夫人对我说过你从她身边走过的样子。所以，当你妻子说她是在你们两人都回到营地之后才告诉你的，我就知道她撒谎了。请继续吧，博因顿先生。”
　　“我都不知道自己在做什么……但是，朝营地走的时候，我开始清醒了。我忽然意识到，应该受到指责的，只有我自己！我是个可怜虫！我早就应该反抗继母、离家出走了。
　　于是我想，现在可能还来得及。那个魔鬼般的老太婆就坐在上面，像个丑陋的雕像一样坐在那儿一动不动。我要上去跟她摊牌。我打算告诉她我的想法，并宣布我要离开这个家。
　　我有一个疯狂的想法，那天晚上我会立刻逃走——和娜丁一起。而且，那天晚上，无论如何都能到达马安。”
　　“哦，雷诺克斯——亲爱的——”
　　一声长长的温柔的叹息。
　　他继续说道：“然后，老天——你只要碰我一下，我就能立马倒地！她死了！坐在那里——死了……我——我不知道该怎么办。我说不出话来——头晕眼花——我想对着她大喊的每句话都憋在了心里，像一块铅一样——我无法解释……石头——这就是我的感觉——变成了石头。我机械地行动起来——我把放在她膝盖上的手表拿起来，戴在她的手腕上——可怕的、软绵绵的死人的手腕……”
　　他全身颤抖。“天哪——太可怕了……然后我踉踉跄跄地跑下山，走进大帐篷。我应该叫人来的，可是我做不到。我就只是坐在那儿，翻着书，等着……”
　　他停了下来。
　　“你不会相信我的——不可能相信。我为什么没叫人来、没告诉娜丁？我不知道。”
　　杰拉德医生清了清喉咙。
　　“你的话完全合情合理，博因顿。你当时极度紧张，连遭两次沉重打击，足以让你陷入那种状态。这就是韦森霍尔特反应——小鸟的头撞在了窗户上就是个很好的例子。即使恢复了知觉，也会本能地不会有任何行动——这样它的中枢神经系统才会得以缓冲并恢复正常。我用英语解释得不太清楚，我是说，当时你不可能有其他反应，不可能采取果断的行动！你正处于麻痹的状态中。”
　　他转向波洛。
　　“我向你保证，我的朋友，就是这样！”
　　“哦，我并不怀疑，”波洛说，“我注意到了一个小事实——博因顿先生给他母亲戴上了手表——这其中包含了两种可能：可能是在掩饰罪行，或者可能会被妻子发现并对他产生误会。她比她丈夫晚回来五分钟，一定会看到这个动作。当她到了她婆婆那儿，发现她已经死了，手腕上还有一个皮下注射器所留下的针眼，她一定会认为凶手是自己的丈夫，认为自己想要离开的决定，造成了完全违背她原意的结果。简单来说，娜丁•博因顿相信，是自己怂恿丈夫杀了人。”
　　他看着娜丁。“是这样吗，夫人？”
　　她低下头，然后问道：
　　“你真的怀疑我吗，波洛先生？”
　　“我之前认为你有这个可能，夫人。”
　　她身子前倾。
　　“现在呢？到底发生了什么，波洛先生？”
　　[1]原文为法语。
Chapter 17
　　Chapter 17
　　‘What really happened?’ Poirot repeated.
　　He reached behind him, drew forward a chair and sat down. His manner was now friendly—informal.
　　‘It is a question, is it not? For the digitoxin was taken—the syringe was missing—there was themark of a hypodermic on Mrs Boynton’s wrist.
　　‘It is true that in a few days’ time we shall know definitely—the autopsy will tell us—whetherMrs Boynton died of an overdose of digitalis or not. But then it may be too late! It would be better toreach the truth tonight—while the murderer is here under our hand.’
　　Nadine raised her head sharply.
　　‘You mean that you still believe—that one of us—here in this room…’ Her voice died away.
　　Poirot was slowly nodding to himself.
　　‘The truth, that is what I promised Colonel Carbury. And so, having cleared our path we areback again where I was earlier in the day, writing down a list of printed facts and being facedstraightway with two glaring inconsistencies.’
　　Colonel Carbury spoke for the first time. ‘Suppose, now, we hear what they are?’ he suggested.
　　Poirot said with dignity: ‘I am about to tell you. We will take once more those first two facts onmy list. Mrs Boynton was taking a mixture of digitalis and Dr Gerard missed a hypodermic syringe.
　　Take those facts and set them against the undeniable fact (with which I was immediately confronted)that the Boynton family showed unmistakably guilty reactions. It would seem, therefore, certain thatone of the Boynton family must have committed the crime! And yet, those two facts I mentionedwere all against the theory. For, you see, to take a concentrated solution of digitalis—that, yes, it is aclever idea, because Mrs Boynton was already taking the drug. But what would a member of herfamily do then? Ah, ma foi! there was only one sensible thing to do. Put the poison into her bottle ofmedicine! That is what anyone, anyone with a grain of sense and who had access to the medicinewould certainly do!
　　‘Sooner or later Mrs Boynton takes a dose and dies—and even if the digitalis is discovered inthe bottle it may be set down as a mistake of the chemist who made it up. Certainly nothing can beproved!
　　‘Why, then, the theft of the hypodermic needle?
　　‘There can be only two explanations of that—either Dr Gerard overlooked the syringe and itwas never stolen, or else the syringe was taken because the murderer had not got access to themedicine—that is to say the murderer was not a member of the Boynton family. Those two first factspoint overwhelmingly to an outsider as having committed the crime!
　　‘I saw that—but I was puzzled, as I say, by the strong evidences of guilt displayed by theBoynton family. Was it possible that, in spite of that consciousness of guilt, the Boynton family wereinnocent? I set out to prove—not the guilt—but the innocence of those people!
　　‘That is where we stand now. The murder was committed by an outsider—that is, by someonewho was not sufficiently intimate with Mrs Boynton to enter her tent or to handle her medicinebottle.’
　　He paused.
　　‘There are three people in this room who are, technically, outsiders, but who have a definiteconnection with the case.
　　‘Mr Cope, whom we will consider first, has been closely associated with the Boynton family forsome time. Can we discover motive and opportunity on his part? It seems not. Mrs Boynton’s deathhas affected him adversely—since it has brought about the frustration of certain hopes. Unless MrCope’s motive was an almost fanatical desire to benefit others, we can find no reason for his desiringMrs Boynton’s death. (Unless, of course, there is a motive about which we are entirely in the dark.
　　We do not know what Mr Cope’s dealings with the Boynton family have been.)’
　　Mr Cope said with dignity: ‘This seems to me a little farfetched, M. Poirot. You must rememberI had absolutely no opportunity for committing this deed and, in any case I hold very strong views asto the sanctity of human life.’
　　‘Your position certainly seems impeccable,’ said Poirot with gravity. ‘In a work of fiction youwould be strongly suspected on that account.’
　　He turned a little in his chair. ‘We now come to Miss King. Miss King had a certain amount ofmotive and she had the necessary medical knowledge and is a person of character and determination,but since she left the camp before three-thirty with the others and did not return to it until six o’clock,it seems difficult to see where she could have got her opportunity.
　　‘Next we must consider Dr Gerard. Now here we must take into account the actual time that themurder was committed. According to Mr Lennox Boynton’s last statement, his mother was dead atfour thirty-five. According to Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce, she was alive at four-sixteen whenthey started on their walk. That leaves exactly twenty minutes unaccounted for. Now, as these twoladies walked away from the camp, Dr Gerard passed them going to it. There is no one to say whatDr Gerard’s movements were when he reached the camp because the two ladies’ backs were towardsit. They were walking away from it. Therefore it is perfectly possible for Dr Gerard to havecommitted the crime. Being a doctor, he could easily counterfeit the appearance of malaria. There is, Ishould say, a possible motive. Dr Gerard might have wished to save a certain person whose reason(perhaps more vital a loss than loss of life) was in danger, and he may have considered the sacrificeof an old and worn-out life worth it!’
　　‘Your ideas,’ said Dr Gerard, ‘are fantastic!’
　　Without taking any notice, Poirot went on:
　　‘But if so, why did Gerard call attention to the possibility of foul play? It is quite certain that,but for his statement to Colonel Carbury, Mrs Boynton’s death would have been put down to naturalcauses. It was Dr Gerard who first pointed out the possibility of murder. That, my friends,’ saidPoirot, ‘does not make common sense!’
　　‘Doesn’t seem to,’ said Colonel Carbury gruffly.
　　‘There is one more possibility,’ said Poirot. ‘Mrs Lennox Boynton just now negatived stronglythe possibility of her young sister-in-law being guilty. The force of her objection lay in the fact thatshe knew her mother-in-law to be dead at the time. But remember this, Ginevra Boynton was at thecamp all the afternoon. And there was a moment—a moment when Lady Westholme and Miss Piercewere walking away from the camp and before Dr Gerard had returned to it…’
　　Ginevra stirred. She leaned forward, staring into Poirot’s face with a strange, innocent, puzzledstare.
　　‘I did it? You think I did it?’
　　Then suddenly, with a movement of swift incomparable beauty, she was up from her chair andhad flung herself across the room and down on her knees beside Dr Gerard, clinging to him, gazingup passionately into his face.
　　‘No, no, don’t let them say it! They’re making the walls close round me again! It’s not true! Inever did anything! They are my enemies—they want to put me in prison—to shut me up. You musthelp me. You must help me!’
　　‘There, there, my child.’ Gently the doctor patted her head. Then he addressed Poirot.
　　‘What you say is nonsense—absurd.’
　　‘Delusions of persecution?’ murmured Poirot.
　　‘Yes; but she could never have done it that way. She would have done it, you must perceive,dramatically—a dagger—something flamboyant—spectacular—never this cool, calm logic! I tellyou, my friends, it is so. This was a reasoned crime—a sane crime.’
　　Poirot smiled. Unexpectedly he bowed. ‘Je suis entièrement de votre avis,’ he said smoothly.
第十七章
　　第十七章
　　“到底发生了什么？”波洛重复着她的话。
　　他的手伸向背后，拉过椅子，坐下。现在，他的态度变得友好而随和。
　　“这是个问题，对吗？因为，毛地黄毒苷被偷了，注射器失踪了，博因顿老夫人的手腕上有注射器刺过的痕迹。
　　“没错，再过几天，我们肯定就会知道——验尸结果会告诉我们——博因顿老夫人是不是死于摄入过量的毛地黄。但是，到了那个时候，就太晚了！最好今晚就找出真相——趁着凶手就在这儿，并且在我们控制之中。”
　　娜丁猛地一抬头。
　　“你的意思是，你仍然相信，我们中的一个，在这个房间里……”她的声音越来越小。
　　波洛缓缓地点了点头。
　　“我向卡伯里上校保证过，要给他一个真相。现在，没有了障碍，我们又回到了原点。
　　我写了一张罗列事实的单子，找出了两个明显矛盾的地方。”
　　卡伯里上校第一次开口说话了。“能说一说吗？”
　　波洛严肃地说：“我这就告诉你们。让我们再看看这张单子上面的前两项：‘博因顿老夫人服用了含毛地黄的混合药物’‘杰拉德医生丢了一个皮下注射器’。把这两件事，跟一个不可否认的事实——博因顿一家明显地表现出了犯罪的反应——相比较。似乎可以看出，凶手肯定是博因顿家的某个人！但是，我提到的这两个事实恰恰反驳了这个结论。是的，不多，使用毛地黄浓缩液，这是个聪明的想法，因为博因顿老夫人一直在吃这种药。但是，她的家人干吗要这么做？啊，不用说，只有一个明智的办法可做：把毒药放进她的药瓶里！不管是谁，只要稍稍有点脑子，一定会这么做！
　　“博因顿老夫人迟早会吃药，会死去——而且就算在药瓶里发现了毛地黄毒苷，也可以认为是药剂师搞错了。什么也证明不了！
　　“那么，皮下注射器被盗是怎么回事？”
　　“只可能有两个解释：要么是杰拉德医生看错了，注射器根本没丢过；要么就是注射器确实被偷了，因为凶手没办法接近药瓶。换言之，凶手不是博因顿家的人。根据这两件事实，凶手很有可能是外面的人！
　　“我明白了这一点——可是，博因顿一家表现出来的明显的负罪感却把我给搞糊涂了。
　　有没有可能，尽管他们有负罪感，但却是无罪的呢？于是我开始证明——不是证明他们有罪，而是证明他们是无辜的！
　　“这就是我的出发点。凶手是局外人，这人跟博因顿老夫人并不熟悉，无法进入她的洞穴拿到她的药瓶。”
　　他顿了顿。
　　“在这个房间，有三个人可以说是‘局外人’，但毫无疑问，他们都跟本案有关。
　　“我们先考虑一下柯普先生。他和博因顿一家一直关系密切。他有没有作案的动机和机会呢？似乎没有。博因顿老夫人死了，对他没好处。他怀有的某个希望会落空。除非柯普先生是一个狂热的利他主义者，我们找不到任何他希望博因顿老夫人死去的原因。（当然了，除非有我们完全不知情的动机。我们不知道柯普先生跟博因顿一家有什么往来。）”
　　柯普先生严肃地说：“对我来说，这有些牵强，波洛先生。别忘了，我根本就没机会下手。而且，无论如何，我坚信人的生命是神圣的。”
　　“你根本没有什么可以挑剔的地方，”波洛说，“只有在侦探小说中，你才会由此而成为嫌疑最大的那个人。”
　　他稍稍换了个姿势。“现在，我们看看金小姐。金小姐有某种动机，而且有必要的医学知识，性格决断。但是，她在一点半跟其他人一起离开营地，直到六点才回来，似乎很难有动手的机会。
　　“下一个，我们要考虑杰拉德医生。这次，我们需要考虑到谋杀真正发生的时间。根据雷诺克斯•博因顿刚才所说的话，四点三十五分，母亲已经去世了；根据爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐的证词，四点十五分她们去散步的时候，她还活着。于是，有足足二十分钟的时间无从解释。她们在离开营地的路上跟杰拉德医生擦肩而过。因为两位女士是背对营地往前走，离营地越来越远，所以，没有人知道杰拉德医生回到营地之后做了些什么。他绝对有机会下手。作为一个医生，他很容易装成疟疾发作的样子。而且，他有动机。也许杰拉德医生想要拯救一个失去理智的人（也许这比失去生命更重要），也许他会认为：牺牲一个又老又衰竭的生命是值得的！”
　　“你的想法，”杰拉德医生说，“真离奇。”
　　波洛没有理会他的话，而是继续说了下去：
　　“既然这样，杰拉德医生为什么引人注意地提出了谋杀的可能性呢？显然，如果他没对卡伯里上校说那些话，博因顿老夫人的死就会被归结于自然死亡。是杰拉德医生首先提出了可能是谋杀。这一点，我的朋友，”波洛说，“说不通！”
　　“好像是这样。”卡伯里上校粗声粗气地说。
　　“还有一种可能性，”波洛说，“雷诺克斯•博因顿夫人刚刚强烈地否认了凶手是吉内芙拉的可能性。她能那么肯定，是因为她知道那时候她婆婆已经死了。但是，不要忘了这一点：吉内芙拉•博因顿整个下午都在营地。那么，她就有作案时间了——从爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐离开营地之后，到杰拉德医生返回营地之前……”
　　吉内芙拉微微一动。她的身子向前探了探，用奇怪、天真、困惑的眼神瞪着波洛的脸。
　　“我做的？你认为是我做的？”
　　突然，她从椅子上跳了起来——那姿势美得无与伦比——穿过房间，跪在杰拉德医生身旁，拉着他，热情洋溢地抬头看着他的脸。
　　“不，不，别让他们这么说！他们要把我关起来。不是真的，我什么都没做！他们是我的敌人——要把我关进牢里，幽禁我！请你帮我！你一定要帮我！”
　　“好的，好的，孩子。”医生轻轻抚摸着她的头，然后对波洛说：
　　“你简直是一派胡言！荒谬之至！”
　　“迫害妄想症？”波洛嘀咕道。
　　“没错。但她不会这么做的。你要明白，如果是她做的，会很戏剧性、很华丽、很盛大——绝不会实施得这么冷静而镇定！我跟你说，我的朋友，肯定是这样。这是一起理性的犯罪——周全的犯罪。”
　　波洛笑了，并且出人意料地点点头。“我完全同意。”他平和地说。
Chapter 18
　　Chapter 18
　　‘Come,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘We have still a little way to go! Dr Gerard has invoked the psychology.
　　So let us now examine the psychological side of this case. We have taken the facts, we haveestablished a chronological sequence of events, we have heard the evidence. There remains—thepsychology. And the most important psychological evidence concerns the dead woman—it is thepsychology of Mrs Boynton herself that is the most important thing in this case.
　　‘Take from my list of specified facts points three and four. Mrs Boynton took definite pleasure inkeeping her family from enjoying themselves with other people. Mrs Boynton, on the afternoon inquestion, encouraged her family to go away and leave her.
　　‘These two facts, they contradict each other flatly! Why, on this particular afternoon, should MrsBoynton suddenly display a complete reversal of her usual policy? Was it that she felt a suddenwarmth of the heart—an instinct of benevolence? That, it seems to me from all I have heard, wasextremely unlikely! Yet there must have been a reason. What was that reason?
　　‘Let us examine closely the character of Mrs Boynton. There have been many different accountsof her. She was a tyrannical old martinet—she was a mental sadist—she was an incarnation of evil—she was crazy. Which of these views is the true one?
　　‘I think myself that Sarah King came nearest to the truth when in a flash of inspiration inJerusalem she saw the old lady as intensely pathetic. But not only pathetic—futile!
　　‘Let us, if we can, think ourselves into the mental condition of Mrs Boynton. A human creatureborn with immense ambition, with a yearning to dominate and to impress her personality on otherpeople. She neither sublimated that intense craving for power—nor did she seek to master it—no,mesdames and messieurs—she fed it! But in the end—listen well to this—in the end what did itamount to? She was not a great power! She was not feared and hated over a wide area! She was thepetty tyrant of one isolated family! And as Dr Gerard said to me—she became bored like any otherold lady with her hobby and she sought to extend her activities and to amuse herself by making herdominance more precarious! But that led to an entirely different aspect of the case! By comingabroad, she realized for the first time how extremely insignificant she was!
　　‘And now we come directly to point number ten—the words spoken to Sarah King in Jerusalem.
　　Sarah King, you see, had put her finger on the truth. She had revealed fully and uncompromisinglythe pitiful futility of Mrs Boynton’s scheme of existence! And now listen very carefully—all of you—to what her exact words to Miss King were. Miss King has said that Mrs Boynton spoke “somalevolently—not even looking at me”. And this is what she actually said, “I’ve never forgottenanything—not an action, not a name, not a face.”
　　‘Those words made a great impression on Miss King. Their extraordinary intensity and the loudhoarse tone in which they were uttered! So strong was the impression that they left on her mind that Ithink she quite failed to realize their extraordinary significance!
　　‘Do you see that significance, any of you?’ He waited a minute. ‘It seems not…But, mes amis,does it escape you that those words were not a reasonable answer at all to what Miss King had justbeen saying? “I’ve never forgotten anything—not an action, not a name, not a face.” It does notmake sense! If she had said, “I never forget impertinence”—something of that kind—but no—a faceis what she said…
　　‘Ah!’ cried Poirot, beating his hands together. ‘But it leaps to the eye! Those words, ostensiblyspoken to Miss King, were not meant for Miss King at all! They were addressed to someone elsestanding behind Miss King.’
　　He paused, noting their expressions.
　　‘Yes, it leaps to the eye! That was, I tell you, a psychological moment in Mrs Boynton’s life!
　　She had been exposed to herself by an intelligent young woman! She was full of baffled fury—and atthat moment she recognized someone—a face from the past—a victim delivered into her hands!
　　‘We are back, you see, at the outsider! And now the meaning of Mrs Boynton’s unexpectedamiability on the afternoon of her death is clear. She wanted to get rid of her family because—to usea vulgarity—she had other fish to fry! She wanted the field left clear for an interview with a newvictim…
　　‘Now, from that new standpoint, let us consider the events of the afternoon! The Boynton familygo off. Mrs Boynton sits up by her cave. Now let us consider very carefully the evidence of LadyWestholme and Miss Pierce. The latter is an unreliable witness, she is unobservant and verysuggestible. Lady Westholme, on the other hand, is perfectly clear as to her facts and meticulouslyobservant. Both ladies agree on one fact! An Arab, one of the servants, approaches Mrs Boynton,angers her in some way and retires hastily. Lady Westholme stated definitely that the servant hadfirst been into the tent occupied by Ginevra Boynton, but you may remember that Dr Gerard’s tentwas next door to Ginevra’s. It is possible that it was Dr Gerard’s tent the Arab entered…’
　　Colonel Carbury said: ‘D’you mean to tell me that one of those Bedouin fellows of minemurdered an old lady by sticking her with a hypodermic? Fantastic!’
　　‘Wait, Colonel Carbury, I have not yet finished. Let us agree that the Arab might have comefrom Dr Gerard’s tent and not Ginevra Boynton’s. What is the next thing? Both ladies agree that theycould not see his face clearly enough to identify him and that they did not hear what was said. That isunderstandable. The distance between the marquee and the ledge was about two hundred yards. LadyWestholme gave a clear description of the man otherwise, describing in detail his ragged breechesand the untidiness with which his puttees were rolled.’
　　Poirot leaned forward.
　　‘And that, my friends, was very odd indeed! Because if she could not see his face or hear whatwas said, she could not possibly have noticed the state of his breeches and puttees! Not at twohundred yards!
　　‘It was an error, that, you see! It suggested a curious idea to me. Why insist so on the raggedbreeches and untidy puttees? Could it be because the breeches were not torn and the puttees werenon-existent? Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce both saw the man—but from where they were sittingthey could not see each other. That is shown by the fact that Lady Westholme came to see if MissPierce was awake and found her sitting in the entrance of her tent.’
　　‘Good lord,’ said Colonel Carbury, suddenly sitting up very straight. ‘Are you suggesting—?’
　　‘I am suggesting that, having ascertained just what Miss Pierce (the only witness likely to beawake) was doing, Lady Westholme returned to her tent, put on her riding breeches, boots and khaki-coloured coat, made herself an Arab head-dress with her checked duster and a skein of knitting-wooland that, thus attired, she went boldly up to Dr Gerard’s tent, looked in his medicine chest, selected asuitable drug, took the hypodermic, filled it and went boldly up to her victim.
　　‘Mrs Boynton may have been dozing. Lady Westholme was quick. She caught her by the wristand injected the stuff. Mrs Boynton half cried out—tried to rise—then sank back. The “Arab” hurriedaway with every evidence of being ashamed and abashed. Mrs Boynton shook her stick, tried to rise,then fell back into her chair.
　　‘Five minutes later Lady Westholme rejoins Miss Pierce and comments on the scene she has justwitnessed, impressing her own version of it on the other. Then they go for a walk, pausing below theledge where Lady Westholme shouts up to the old lady. She receives no answer. Mrs Boynton is dead—but she remarks to Miss Pierce, “Very rude just to snort at us like that!” Miss Pierce accepts thesuggestion—she has often heard Mrs Boynton receive a remark with a snort—she will swear quitesincerely if necessary that she actually heard it. Lady Westholme has sat on committees often enoughwith women of Miss Pierce’s type to know exactly how her own eminence and masterful personalitycan influence them. The only point where her plan went astray was the replacing of the syringe. DrGerard returning so soon upset her scheme. She hoped he might not have noticed its absence, ormight think he had overlooked it, and she put it back during the night.’
　　He stopped.
　　Sarah said: ‘But why? Why should Lady Westholme want to kill old Mrs Boynton?’
　　‘Did you not tell me that Lady Westholme had been quite near you in Jerusalem when youspoke to Mrs Boynton? It was to Lady Westholme that Mrs Boynton’s words were addressed. “I’venever forgotten anything—not an action, not a name, not a face.” Put that with the fact that MrsBoynton had been a wardress in a prison and you can get a very shrewd idea of the truth. LordWestholme met his wife on a voyage back from America. Lady Westholme before her marriage hadbeen a criminal and had served a prison sentence.
　　‘You see the terrible dilemma she was in? Her career, her ambitions, her social position—all atstake! What the crime was for which she served a sentence in prison we do not yet know (though wesoon shall), but it must have been one that would effectually blast her political career if it was madepublic. And remember this, Mrs Boynton was not an ordinary blackmailer. She did not want money.
　　She wanted the pleasure of torturing her victim for a while and then she would have enjoyedrevealing the truth in the most spectacular fashion! No, while Mrs Boynton lived, Lady Westholmewas not safe. She obeyed Mrs Boynton’s instructions to meet her at Petra (I thought it strange allalong that a woman with such a sense of her own importance as Lady Westholme should havepreferred to travel as a mere tourist), but in her own mind she was doubtless revolving ways andmeans of murder. She saw her chance and carried it out boldly. She only made two slips. One was tosay a little too much—the description of the torn breeches—which first drew my attention to her, andthe other was when she mistook Dr Gerard’s tent and looked first into the one where Ginevra waslying half asleep. Hence the girl’s story—half make-believe, half true—of a sheikh in disguise. Sheput it the wrong way round, obeying her instinct to distort the truth by making it more dramatic, butthe indication was quite significant enough for me.’
　　He paused.
　　‘But we shall soon know. I obtained Lady Westholme’s fingerprints today without her beingaware of the fact. If these are sent to the prison where Mrs Boynton was once a wardress, we shallsoon know the truth when they are compared with the files.’
　　He stopped.
　　In the momentary stillness a sharp sound was heard.
　　‘What’s that?’ asked Dr Gerard.
　　‘Sounded like a shot to me,’ said Colonel Carbury, rising to his feet quickly. ‘In the next room.
　　Who’s got that room, by the way?’
　　Poirot murmured: ‘I have a little idea—it is the room of Lady Westholme…’
第十八章
　　第十八章
　　“现在，”赫尔克里•波洛说，“我们还有一小段路要走。杰拉德医生说到了心理学，那么我们就审视一下这件案子中的心理学部分。我们已经找到了各种事实，列出了这些事实发生的时间，听过了证词，那么，现在只有一件事了——心理学。最重要的心理学证据跟死者有关系——在这个案子里，博因顿老夫人自己的心理活动非常关键。
　　“看一下我列举的重要事项中的第三和第四条：‘博因顿老夫人阻止家人跟外人交往，以此为乐’，‘事情发生的当天下午，博因顿老夫人鼓励家人离开，只剩自己一个人’。
　　“这两件事根本就是相互矛盾的！博因顿老夫人为什么会在这个特殊的下午突然改变了她平时的习惯？是她突然良心发现，产生了慈爱之心？根据我所听到的来判断，这是不可能的。但肯定有原因。是什么呢？
　　“让我们仔细地研究一下博因顿老夫人的性格。大家对她有各种各样的看法。她是冷酷的暴君——精神虐待狂——她是邪恶的化身——她是个疯子。哪一种最正确？
　　“在耶路撒冷的时候，莎拉•金灵感一闪，认为她所看到的这个老太太很可怜。我个人认为这种看法最接近事实。不过，不仅仅是可怜——而是根本没用！
　　“如果可能的话，我们把自己代入到博因顿老夫人的精神状态中去。她生来就雄心勃勃，渴望支配他人，渴望加深别人对她的印象。她对权力的欲望既没能得到发扬，也没有被控制住——没有，女士们、先生们——而是一直在扩大。但是最后——请仔细听这句话——最后怎样了呢？她没有得到巨大的权力！在广大的范围内，她既没有被憎恨，也没有被惧怕。她只是一个与世隔绝的家庭里的小小暴君。杰拉德医生跟我说过，跟其他老太太一样，她厌倦了自己的爱好，想扩大活动范围，想通过严重动摇自己的统治地位来取乐。
　　但是这就导致了本案完全不同的一面。这次国外旅行，让她第一次意识到自己太渺小了！
　　“现在，我们直接看第十条——她在耶路撒冷对莎拉•金说的话。要知道，莎拉•金揭发了她的真面目，直截了当地指出博因顿老夫人的存在完全没有价值，她是个可怜的女人！
　　现在，仔细地听一听——你们所有人——听听她对金小姐说的原话。金小姐说，博因顿老夫人说话‘充满了恶意，看都不看我’。她是这么说的：‘我从不忘记。’她说，“记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事，任何一个举动，一个名字，一张脸……”
　　“这句话给金小姐留下了深刻的印象。老太太说话时措辞强烈，声音沙哑。这句话对金小姐的影响太大了，弄得她都没意识到这些话意义非凡！
　　“你们看出重要性了吗，有没有人？”他等了一会儿，“看起来没有……然而，我的朋友们，你们不觉得，这些话作为回答，完全不合理吗？‘我从不忘记。记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事，任何一个举动，一个名字，一张脸。’这话说不通啊！如果她说的是‘我绝对不会忘记无礼的举动’之类的话——但是，不是，她说的是‘一张脸’！
　　“啊！”波洛拍打着双手说，“但是我眼前一亮！表面上这话是对金小姐说的，但其实不是！而是说给站在金小姐身后的另一个人听的。”
　　他打住了，观察着每个人的表情。
　　“是的，我眼前一亮。跟你们说，那个时刻是博因顿老夫人一生当中一个重要的心理时刻。一个聪明的年轻女士，让自己暴露了！她内心充满了莫名其妙的愤怒，就在这时，她认出了某个人——一张过去认识的脸——一个送到她手上的牺牲品！
　　“你们看，我们又说回了外人这个话题。博因顿老夫人为什么会在她去世的那个下午变得和蔼亲切，现在已然清晰了。她想甩掉家人，是因为她有别的鱼上钩了。她为了一个新的牺牲品，而清场了……
　　“那么，让我们从全新的角度看一看那天下午发生了什么。博因顿一家走了，老夫人独自坐在洞穴旁。现在，让我们回顾一下爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐的证词。后者是一个不可靠的证人，没有观察力，耳根子软。而爵士夫人则头脑清楚、观察入微。两位女士都同意一个事实。一个阿拉伯仆人去找博因顿老夫人，不知道为什么惹怒了她，然后匆忙跑了回来。爵士夫人明确地说过，那个仆人先进了吉内芙拉•博因顿的帐篷。也许你们还记得，杰拉德医生和吉内芙拉的帐篷是挨着的，那么阿拉伯仆人也许进了杰拉德医生的帐篷里……”
　　卡伯里上校插嘴说道：“你的意思是，我的贝都因人用注射器杀死了老太太？荒唐，太荒唐了！”
　　“等等，卡伯里上校，我没说完呢。也许这个阿拉伯仆人是从杰拉德医生而非吉内芙拉的帐篷里走了出来。然后呢？两位女士都说没看到他的脸，无法确定他是谁，也听不到他说了些什么。这不难理解。大帐篷跟岩石相隔二百码。而爵士夫人清清楚楚地描述了这个人的其他特征，破破烂烂的马裤和绑得松松散散的绑腿。”
　　波洛探身向前。
　　“然而这一点，我的朋友们，的确太奇怪了！既然她看不清他的脸、听不到他说话，那她绝不可能注意到他的裤子和绑腿！在两百码以外是不可能的！
　　“这是一个失误！它让我产生了一个奇怪的想法。为什么要这么强调破裤子和松垮的绑腿呢？有没有可能是裤子根本没破，绑腿的事也是假的？爵士夫人和皮尔斯小姐都看到了这个仆人——但是从她们所坐的位置，她们看不到彼此。爵士夫人曾经去看皮尔斯小姐是否醒了，结果发现她坐在自己帐篷门口，这件事可以证明我刚说的。”
　　“老天，”卡伯里上校突然挺直了腰板，“你是说——”
　　“我是说，爵士夫人摸清楚皮尔斯小姐（唯一一个可能醒着的证人）在干什么之后，回到自己的帐篷里，穿上马裤、靴子和卡其色外套，用她花格子的擦布和毛线做了一条阿拉伯头巾。装扮好之后，她勇敢地去了杰拉德医生的帐篷，在他的药箱里找寻着，挑选了合适的药，拿了皮下注射器，然后就大胆地去见她的受害人了。
　　“也许博因顿老夫人正在打盹儿。爵士夫人手脚麻利地抓住她的手腕，把毒药打了进去。博因顿老夫人没能喊叫出来。她挣扎着站起来，却跌在了椅子里。‘阿拉伯人’急忙离开，装出一副羞愧和尴尬的样子。博因顿老夫人挥舞着手杖，试图站起来，然后倒在椅子里。
　　“五分钟后，爵士夫人又去皮尔斯小姐那儿了，谈论了一番自己刚刚见过的情形，把自己的说法强加给后者。之后两人去散步，经过岩石下面的时候，爵士夫人对着上面的老太太喊了一声。她没有得到回答——老夫人已经死了，不能回答了。可她对皮尔斯小姐说：‘太无礼了！她唯一的回答就是一声哼。’皮尔斯小姐接受了这个暗示——她经常听见博因顿老夫人哼一声以表示回答。如果有必要，她会极其诚实地发誓，说自己的确听见了。爵士夫人在委员会中经常跟皮尔斯小姐这种女人打交道，她清楚该怎样用自己的名气和专横的个性来影响她们。她整个计划中唯一的纰漏就是，她没能及时把注射器还回去。
　　杰拉德医生提前返回，破坏了她的计划。她希望医生没发现不见了注射器，或者是认为自己一时之间没看到。当晚，她把它还了回去。”
　　他停了下来。
　　莎拉问道：“可是为什么？爵士夫人为什么要杀死博因顿老夫人？”
　　“你跟我说，在耶路撒冷你跟博因顿老夫人说话的时候，爵士夫人离你很近。老夫人的话其实是对爵士夫人说的。‘我从不忘记。记住这一点。我从来不会忘记任何事，任何一个举动，一个名字，一张脸。’如果把这件事，跟博因顿老夫人曾经做过监狱的女看守联系起来，就会产生一个非常聪明的想法。韦斯特霍姆勋爵从美国回英国的途中认识了他的妻子。结婚前，爵士夫人是个罪犯，在监狱服过刑。
　　“现在你们该知道她所处的困境有多可怕了吧？她的事业、她的雄心、她的社会地位——一切都岌岌可危！虽然我们不知道（不过很快就会知道）她犯了什么罪而进了监狱，但是，一旦公开，她的政治生涯就全完了。而且，别忘了，博因顿老夫人可不是一个普通的勒索者。她不想要钱，只想把她的猎物玩弄于股掌之中，然后用最为惊人的方式揭露真相！只要博因顿老夫人活着，爵士夫人就不安全。她按照博因顿老夫人的指示，跟她在佩特拉见面（我一直奇怪的是，这样一个自视高贵的人，会以一个普通游客的身份出来旅行），但她内心一定在筹划着谋杀。抓住机会后，她大胆地实施犯罪计划。她只疏忽了两个地方。一是说得有点多——关于破裤子的讲述——这一点最早引起了我对她的注意。二是她认错了杰拉德医生的帐篷，走进了吉内芙拉的帐篷。当时后者处于半睡眠状态，所以才会演化成了装扮的酋长的故事——半真半假。她讲这个故事的方式错了，她顺从了自己的本能而扭曲了事实，编得更加戏剧化，但是这其中的现象对我而言已经足够。”
　　他顿了顿。
　　“但是我们很快就会知道了。今天，趁爵士夫人不注意的时候，我取到了她的指纹。如果把这些指纹送到博因顿老夫人曾经工作过的监狱，跟档案做个对比，我们很快就会知道真相了。”
　　他停了下来。
　　短暂的寂静被一个尖锐的声音打破了。
　　“什么声音？”杰拉德医生问。
　　“听着好像是枪声，”卡伯里上校猛然站起来，“就在隔壁。是谁的房间？”
　　波洛轻轻地说：“我有个小想法——是爵士夫人的房间……”
Epilogue
　　Epilogue
　　Extract from the Evening Shout:
　　We regret to announce the death of Lady Westholme, M.P., the result of a tragic accident.
　　Lady Westholme, who was fond of travelling in out-of-the-way countries, always took asmall revolver with her. She was cleaning this when it went off accidentally and killed her.
　　Death was instantaneous. The deepest sympathy will be felt for Lord Westholme, etc., etc.
　　On a warm June evening five years later Sarah Boynton and her husband sat in the stalls of a Londontheatre. The play was Hamlet. Sarah gripped Raymond’s arm as Ophelia’s words came floating overthe footlights:
　　How should I your true love know
　　From another one?
　　By his cockle hat and staff,
　　And his sandal shoon.
　　He is dead and gone, lady,
　　He is dead and gone;
　　At his head a grass-green turf;
　　At his heels a stone.
　　O, ho!
　　A lump rose in Sarah’s throat. That exquisite witless beauty, that lovely unearthly smile of one gonebeyond trouble and grief to a region where only a floating mirage was truth…Sarah said to herself: ‘She’s lovely…’
　　That haunting, lilting voice, always beautiful in tone, but now disciplined and modulated to bethe perfect instrument.
　　Sarah said with decision as the curtain fell at the end of the act: ‘Jinny’s a great actress—a great—great actress!’
　　Later they sat round a supper-table at the Savoy. Ginevra, smiling, remote, turned to the beardedman by her side.
　　‘I was good, wasn’t I, Theodore?’
　　‘You were wonderful, chérie.’
　　A happy smile floated on her lips.
　　She murmured: ‘You always believed in me—you always knew I could do great things—swaymultitudes…’
　　At a table not far away the Hamlet of the evening was saying gloomily:
　　‘Her mannerisms! Of course people like it just at first—but what I say is, it’s not Shakespeare.
　　Did you see how she ruined my exit?’
　　Nadine, sitting opposite Ginevra, said: ‘How exciting it is to be here in London with Jinnyacting Ophelia and being so famous!’
　　Ginevra said softly: ‘It was nice of you to come over.’
　　‘A regular family party,’ said Nadine, smiling as she looked round. Then she said to Lennox: ‘Ithink the children might go to the matinée, don’t you? They’re quite old enough, and they do so wantto see Aunt Jinny on the stage!’
　　Lennox, a sane, happy-looking Lennox with humorous eyes, lifted his glass.
　　‘To the newly-weds, Mr and Mrs Cope.’
　　Jefferson Cope and Carol acknowledged the toast.
　　‘The unfaithful swain!’ said Carol, laughing. ‘Jeff, you’d better drink to your first love as she’ssitting right opposite you.’
　　Raymond said gaily: ‘Jeff’s blushing. He doesn’t like being reminded of the old days.’
　　His face clouded suddenly.
　　Sarah touched his hand with hers, and the cloud lifted. He looked at her and grinned.
　　‘Seems just like a bad dream!’
　　A dapper figure stopped by their table. Hercule Poirot, faultlessly and beautifully apparelled, hismoustaches proudly twisted, bowed regally.
　　‘Mademoiselle,’ he said to Ginevra, ‘mes hommages. You were superb!’
　　They greeted him affectionately, made a place for him beside Sarah.
　　He beamed round on them all and when they were all talking he leaned a little sideways and saidsoftly to Sarah:
　　‘Eh bien, it seems that all marches well now with la famille Boynton!’
　　‘Thanks to you!’ said Sarah.
　　‘He becomes very eminent, your husband. I read today an excellent review of his last book.’
　　‘It’s really rather good—although I say it! Did you know that Carol and Jefferson Cope hadmade a match of it at last? And Lennox and Nadine have got two of the nicest children—cute,Raymond calls them. As for Jinny—well, I rather think Jinny’s a genius.’
　　She looked across the table at the lovely face and the red-gold crown of hair, and then she gavea tiny start.
　　For a moment her face was grave. She raised her glass slowly to her lips.
　　‘You drink a toast, madame?’ asked Poirot.
　　Sarah said slowly:
　　‘I thought—suddenly—of Her. Looking at Jinny, I saw—for the first time—the likeness. Thesame thing—only Jinny is in light—where She was in darkness…’
　　And from opposite, Ginevra said unexpectedly:
　　‘Poor Mother…She was queer…Now—that we’re all so happy—I feel kind of sorry for her.
　　She didn’t get what she wanted out of life. It must have been tough for her.’
　　Almost without a pause, her voice quivered softly into the lines from Cymbeline while the otherslistened spell-bound to the music of them:
　　‘Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
　　Nor the furious winter’s rages;
　　Thou the worldly task hast done,
　　Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages…’
尾声
　　尾声
　　摘自《夜晚之声报》：
　　我们很遗憾地宣布，下院议员韦斯特霍姆勋爵夫人，在一场意外的悲剧中不幸去世。
　　爵士夫人喜欢去偏僻的地区旅行，总是带着一把左轮小手枪。在擦拭手枪的时候，不幸走火，导致当场死亡。向韦斯特霍姆勋爵致以最深切的同情……五年之后，六月的一个温暖的夜晚，莎拉•博因顿和丈夫坐在伦敦某家剧院的前排座位上，上演的是《哈姆雷特》。当奥菲利亚的声音从脚灯上面飘过来的时候，莎拉抓住了雷蒙德的胳膊。
　　张三李四满街走，
　　谁是你情郎？
　　毡帽在从杖在手，
　　草鞋穿一双。
　　姑娘，姑娘，他死了，
　　一去不复来；
　　头竖一块白石碑，
　　头上盖着青青草。
　　哦，啊！
　　莎拉哽咽了。那精致的无知的美，那超凡脱俗的可爱的微笑，已经超越了烦恼与痛苦，成为似真似假的梦幻所在……
　　莎拉心中暗想：“她真美……”
　　那令人难以忘怀的欢快嗓音一直都很美妙，而今又经过了训练和调整，变成了更加完美的乐音。
　　帷幕落下时，莎拉断然说道：“金妮是个伟大的演员，非常——非常伟大的演员！”
　　之后，他们围坐在萨伏伊的一张餐桌边，吉内芙拉带着缥缈的微笑，转向身边一个留胡子的男人。
　　“我演得很好，对吧，西奥多？”
　　“精彩极了，亲爱的。”
　　她的唇边浮现出一抹幸福的微笑。
　　她低声说道：“你总是那么信任我——相信我能做出伟大的事情——让观众沉醉……”
　　不远处的一张桌子前，今晚的哈姆雷特正在沮丧地说：
　　“看她的作态！一开始观众肯定会喜欢了，但我说的是，莎士比亚不是这么演的。她是怎么毁了我的演出，你看到没？”
　　坐在吉内芙拉对面的娜丁说道：“来伦敦看金妮演奥菲利亚，还演得这么成功，真让人兴奋！”
　　吉内芙拉温和地说：“你们来了真好。”
　　“是定期的家庭聚会啊。”娜丁微笑着看看周围，又对雷诺克斯说，“我觉得孩子们也可以来看了，你说呢？他们已经长大了，而且他们真的很想看看舞台上的金妮姑姑。”
　　脑筋清爽、一脸幸福的雷诺克斯，眼中闪着幽默的神采，他举起酒杯说道：
　　“为新婚的柯普夫妇干杯！”
　　杰弗逊•柯普和卡罗尔接受了祝福。
　　“不忠的情人！”卡罗尔大笑着说，“杰夫 [1] ，你最好为坐在你正对面的初恋情人干一杯。”
　　雷蒙德快活地说：“杰夫脸红了。他不喜欢提过去的事。”
　　他的脸上突然乌云密布。
　　莎拉用手轻轻地碰了碰他，随即，乌云散尽。他看看她，咧嘴而笑。
　　“真的好像一个噩梦！”
　　一个衣着讲究的小个子停在了他们桌子旁边。赫尔克里•波洛衣着华丽整洁、完美无瑕，胡子骄傲地拧在一起，他隆重地点了点头。
　　“小姐，”他对吉内芙拉说，“向你致敬。你是最棒的。”
　　他们热情地欢迎他，并在莎拉旁边给他留出一个位子。
　　当大家都在说话时，他微笑着看着所有人，然后身体微微一侧，小声对莎拉说：
　　“好吧，看来博因顿一家一切都很顺利啊。”
　　“多亏了你！”莎拉说。
　　“你丈夫很有名，我今天刚刚读了一篇关于他新书的好评。”
　　“虽然我不能这么说，但那本书确实挺好。你知道卡罗尔和杰弗逊•柯普终于结婚了吗？雷诺克斯和娜丁有了两个可爱的孩子——可爱至极。雷蒙德说他们很讨人喜欢。说到金妮，嗯，她是个天才。”
　　她看着桌子对面那张美丽的脸庞和金红色的头发，不觉微微一动。
　　有那么一会儿，她变得严肃起来，慢慢地把酒杯送到嘴边。
　　“你在干杯吗，夫人？”波洛问。
　　莎拉慢慢地说：
　　“我突然——想到了她。看着金妮，我第一次看到了……相像。一模一样——但金妮是光明的，而她在阴暗之处……”
　　桌子对面，吉内芙拉出人意料地说道：
　　“可怜的母亲……她很古怪……现在，我们都很幸福。我有些替她难过。她没有从生活中得到她想要的。对她来说，日子一定过得很乏味。”
　　几乎没有停顿，她用颤抖的声音，轻轻吟诵起了《辛伯林》中的几行诗，而其他人则听得入了迷：
　　别再害怕骄阳的炙烤
　　别再害怕隆冬的严寒
　　世界的工作你已完成
　　领取工资就回家……
　　[1]杰夫是杰弗逊的昵称。