FOREWORD BY AGATHA CHRISTIE
FOREWORD BY AGATHA CHRISTIE
This book of Christmas fare may be described as "The Chef's Selection." I am the Chef!
There are two main courses: The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding and The Mystery of theSpanish Chest; a selection of Entrées: Greenshaw's Folly, The Dream, and The Under Dog; and aSorbet: Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds.
The Mystery of the Spanish Chest may be described as a Hercule Poirot Special. It is a case inwhich he considers he was at his best! Miss Marple, in her turn, has always been pleased with herperspicuity in Greenshaw's Folly.
The Adventure of the Christmas Pudding is an indulgence of my own, since it recalls to me, verypleasurably, the Christmases of my youth.
After my father's death, my mother and I always spent Christmas with my brother-in-law's familyin the north of England - and what superb Christmases they were for a child to remember! AbneyHall had everything! The garden boasted a waterfall, a stream, and a tunnel under the drive! TheChristmas fare was of gargantuan proportions. I was a skinny child, appearing delicate, butactually of robust health and perpetually hungry! The boys of the family and I used to vie witheach other as to who could eat most on Christmas Day. Oyster Soup and Turbot went downwithout undue zest, but then came Roast Turkey, Boiled Turkey and an enormous Sirloin of Beef.
The boys and I had two helpings of all three! We then had Plum Pudding, Mince-pies, Trifle andevery kind of dessert. During the afternoon we ate chocolates solidly. We neither felt, nor were,sick! How lovely to be eleven years old and greedy!
What a day of delight from "Stockings" in bed in the morning, Church and all the Christmashymns, Christmas dinner, Presents, and the final Lighting of the Christmas Tree!
And how deep my gratitude to the kind and hospitable hostess who must have worked so hard tomake Christmas Day a wonderful memory to me still in my old age.
So let me dedicate this book to the memory of Abney Hall, its kindness and its hospitality.
And a happy Christmas to all who read this book.
Agatha Christie
 
序言
序言
这本书可以视为一顿“厨师精选”的圣诞大餐，而我就是大厨！
这顿大餐的两道主菜是《雪地上的女尸》和《西班牙箱子之谜》，精选前菜是《格林肖的蠢物》 [1] 《梦境》和《弱者的愤怒》，饭后冰淇淋则是《二十四只黑画眉》。
《西班牙箱子之谜》可以算是赫尔克里•波洛特别餐。这是他最引以为傲的案子之一！
而马普尔小姐在《格林肖的蠢物》中如往常一样对自己清晰的分析感到满意。
《雪地上的女尸》是我个人的珍品，因为它让我回忆起了童年时代令人愉快的圣诞节。父亲去世之后，母亲和我总是和我的姐夫一家一起在英国北部度过圣诞节——他们的圣诞节对于孩子来说是多么美好！艾本尼堡真是应有尽有！花园里有引以为傲的瀑布、小溪，车道下还有一条隧道！圣诞大餐异常丰盛。我是一个瘦小的孩子，看上去有些柔弱，但其实强壮健康并且永远感到饥饿！家族里的男孩子总和我比赛谁能在圣诞节那天吃最多的东西。把牡蛎汤和多宝鱼吃完不是什么难事，但之后上桌的是烤火鸡、煮火鸡和大量的牛腰肉。我和男孩子们一人能吃两份这三道主菜！之后，我们还会吃葡萄干布丁、肉馅饼、葡萄酒蛋糕以及各种各样的甜点。下午，我们又使劲地吃巧克力。我们并没有觉得不适，也没有真的因为这样的暴食而生病！做一个年仅十一岁且不知满足的小孩是一件多么美妙的事情！
从早上在床上查看圣诞节长筒袜里的礼物开始，到教堂和圣歌，圣诞晚餐，礼物，以及最终的圣诞树点灯，一整天都是那么令人兴奋！
好客的女主人会为了圣诞节这一天辛勤地忙碌。我对她为我创造了这么一个到晚年仍觉得无比美好的回忆深表感谢。
因此，请让我将这本书献给在艾本尼堡的记忆——它的亲切与好客。
也祝所有读这本书的人圣诞快乐！
阿加莎•克里斯蒂
 
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING（1）
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING
"I regret exceedingly..." said M. Hercule Poirot.
He was interrupted. Not rudely interrupted. The interruption was suave, dexterous, persuasiverather than contradictory.
"Please don't refuse offhand, M. Poirot. There are grave issues of State. Your cooperation will beappreciated in the highest quarters."
"You are too kind," Hercule Poirot waved a hand, "but I really cannot undertake to do as you ask.
At this season of the year..."
Again Mr Jesmond interrupted. "Christmas time," he said, persuasively. "An old- fashionedChristmas in the English countryside."
Hercule Poirot shivered. The thought of the Christmas countryside at this season of the year didnot attract him.
"A good old-fashioned Christmas!" Mr Jesmond stressed it.
"Me - I am not an Englishman," said Hercule Poirot. "In my country, Christmas, it is for thechildren. The New Year, that is what we celebrate.""Ah," said Mr Jesmond, "but Christmas in England is a great institution and I assure you at KingsLacey you would see it at its best. It's a wonderful old house, you know. Why, one wing of it datesfrom the fourteenth century."
Again Poirot shivered. The thought of a fourteenth-century English manor house filled him withapprehension. He had suffered too often in the historic country houses of England. He lookedround appreciatively at his comfortable modern flat with its radiators and the latest patent devicesfor excluding any kind of draught.
"In the winter," he said firmly, "I do not leave London.""I don't think you quite appreciate, Mr Poirot, what a very serious matter this is." Mr Jesmondglanced at his companion and then back at Poirot.
Poirot's second visitor had up to now said nothing but a polite and formal "How do you do." He satnow, gazing down at his well-polished shoes, with an air of the utmost dejection on his coffee-coloured face. He was a young man, not more than twenty-three, and he was clearly in a state ofcomplete misery.
"Yes, yes," said Hercule Poirot. "Of course the matter is serious. I do appreciate that. His Highnesshas my heartfelt sympathy."
"The position is one of the utmost delicacy," said Mr Jesmond.
Poirot transferred his gaze from the young man to his older companion. If one wanted to sum upMr Jesmond in a word, the word would have been discretion. Everything about Mr Jesmond wasdiscreet. His well-cut but inconspicuous clothes, his pleasant, well-bred voice which rarely soaredout of an agreeable monotone, his light-brown hair just thinning a little at the temples, his paleserious face. It seemed to Hercule Poirot that he had known not one Mr Jesmond but a dozen MrJesmonds in his time, all using sooner or later the same phrase - "a position of the utmostdelicacy."
"The police," said Hercule Poirot, "can be very discreet, you know."Mr Jesmond shook his head firmly.
"Not the police," he said. "To recover the - er - what we want to recover will almost inevitablyinvolve taking proceedings in the law courts and we know so little. We suspect, but we do notknow."
"You have my sympathy," said Hercule Poirot again.
If he imagined that his sympathy was going to mean anything to his two visitors, he was wrong.
They did not want sympathy, they wanted practical help. Mr Jesmond began once more to talkabout the delights of an English Christmas.
"It's dying out, you know," he said, "the real old-fashioned type of Christmas. People spend it athotels nowadays. But an English Christmas with all the family gathered round, the children andtheir stockings, the Christmas tree, the turkey and plum pudding, the crackers. The snow-manoutside the window..."
In the interests of exactitude, Hercule Poirot intervened.
"To make a snow-man one has to have the snow," he remarked severely. "And one cannot havesnow to order, even for an English Christmas.""I was talking to a friend of mine in the meteorological office only today," said Mr Jesmond, "andhe tells me that it is highly probable there will be snow this Christmas."It was the wrong thing to have said. Hercule Poirot shuddered more forcefully than ever.
"Snow in the country!" he said. "That would be still more abominable. A large, cold, stone manorhouse."
"Not at all," said Mr Jesmond. "Things have changed very much in the last ten years or so. Oil-fired central heating."
"They have oil-fired central heating at Kings Lacey?" asked Poirot. For the first time he seemed towaver.
Mr Jesmond seized his opportunity. "Yes, indeed," he said, "and a splendid hot water system.
Radiators in every bedroom. I assure you, my dear M. Poirot, Kings Lacey is comfort itself in thewinter time. You might even find the house too warm.""That is most unlikely," said Hercule Poirot.
With practised dexterity Mr Jesmond shifted his ground a little.
"You can appreciate the terrible dilemma we are in," he said, in a confidential manner.
Hercule Poirot nodded. The problem was, indeed, not a happy one. A young potentate-to-be, theonly son of the ruler of a rich and important native State had arrived in London a few weeks ago.
His country had been passing through a period of restlessness and discontent. Though loyal to thefather whose way of life had remained persistently Eastern, popular opinion was somewhatdubious of the younger generation. His follies had been Western ones and as such looked uponwith disapproval.
Recently, however, his betrothal had been announced. He was to marry a cousin of the sameblood, a young woman who, though educated at Cambridge, was careful to display no Westerninfluences in her own country. The wedding day was announced and the young prince had made ajourney to England, bringing with him some of the famous jewels of his house to be reset inappropriate modern settings by Cartier. These had included a very famous ruby which had beenremoved from its cumbersome old-fashioned necklace and had been given a new look by thefamous jewellers. So far so good, but after this came the snag. It was not to be supposed that ayoung man possessed of much wealth and convivial tastes, should not commit a few follies of thepleasanter type. As to that there would have been no censure. Young princes were supposed toamuse themselves in this fashion. For the prince to take the girl friend of the moment for a walkdown Bond Street and bestow upon her an emerald bracelet or a diamond clip as a reward for thepleasure she had afforded him would have been regarded as quite natural and suitable,corresponding in fact to the Cadillac cars which his father invariably presented to his favouritedancing girl of the moment.
But the prince had been far more indiscreet than that. Flattered by the lady's interest, he haddisplayed to her the famous ruby in its new setting, and had finally been so unwise as to accede toher request to be allowed to wear it just for one evening!
The sequel was short and sad. The lady had retired from their supper table to powder her nose.
Time passed. She did not return. She had left the establishment by another door and since then haddisappeared into space. The important and distressing thing was that the ruby in its new settinghad disappeared with her.
These were the facts that could not possibly be made public without the most dire consequences.
The ruby was something more than a ruby, it was a historical possession of great significance, andthe circumstances of its disappearance were such that any undue publicity about them might resultin the most serious political consequences.
Mr Jesmond was not the man to put these facts into simple language. He wrapped them up, as itwere, in a great deal of verbiage. Who exactly Mr Jesmond was, Hercule Poirot did not know. Hehad met other Mr Jesmonds in the course of his career. Whether he was connected with the HomeOffice, the Foreign Office or some more discreet branch of public service was not specified. Hewas acting in the interests of the Commonwealth. The ruby must be recovered.
M. Poirot, so Mr Jesmond delicately insisted, was the man to recover it.
"Perhaps - yes," Hercule Poirot admitted, "but you can tell me so little. Suggestion - suspicion - allthat is not very much to go upon."
"Come now, Monsieur Poirot, surely it is not beyond your powers. Ah, come now.""I do not always succeed."
But this was mock modesty. It was clear enough from Poirot's tone that for him to undertake amission was almost synonymous with succeeding in it.
"His Highness is very young," Mr Jesmond said. "It will be sad if his whole life is to be blightedfor a mere youthful indiscretion."
Poirot looked kindly at the downcast young man. "It is the time for follies, when one is young," hesaid encouragingly, "and for the ordinary young man it does not matter so much. The good papa,he pays up; the family lawyer, he helps to disentangle the inconvenience; the young man, he learnsby experience and all ends for the best. In a position such as yours, it is hard indeed. Yourapproaching marriage..."
"That is it. That is it exactly." For the first time words poured from the young man. "You see she isvery, very serious. She takes life very seriously. She has acquired at Cambridge many very seriousideas. There is to be education in my country. There are to be schools. There are to be manythings. All in the name of progress, you understand, of democracy. It will not be, she says, like itwas in my father's time. Naturally she knows that I will have diversions in London, but not thescandal. No! It is the scandal that matters. You see it is very, very famous, this ruby. There is along trail behind it, a history. Much bloodshed - many deaths!""Deaths," said Hercule Poirot thoughtfully. He looked at Mr Jesmond. "One hopes," he said, "itwill not come to that?"
Mr Jesmond made a peculiar noise rather like a hen who has decided to lay an egg and thenthought better of it.
"No, no, indeed," he said, sounding rather prim. "There is no question, I am sure, of anything ofthat kind."
"You cannot be sure," said Hercule Poirot. "Whoever has the ruby now, there may be others whowant to gain possession of it, and who will not stick at a trifle, my friend.""I really don't think," said Mr Jesmond, sounding more prim than ever, "that we need enter intospeculations of that kind. Quite unprofitable.""Me," said Hercule Poirot, suddenly becoming very foreign, "me, I explore all the avenues, likethe politicians."
Mr Jesmond looked at him doubtfully. Pulling himself together, he said, "Well, I can take it that issettled, M. Poirot? You will go to Kings Lacey?""And how do I explain myself there?" asked Hercule Poirot.
Mr Jesmond smiled with confidence.
"That, I think, can be arranged very easily," he said. "I can assure you that it will all seem quitenatural. You will find the Laceys most charming. Delightful people.""And you do not deceive me about the oil-fired central heating?""No, no, indeed." Mr Jones sounded quite pained. "I assure you you will find every comfort.""Tout confort moderne," murmured Poirot to himself, reminiscently. "Eh bien," he said, "I accept."
雪地上的女尸（1）
雪地上的女尸
1“我非常抱歉——”赫尔克里•波洛先生说道。
他的话被打断了。打断他的一方并非粗鲁无礼或是针锋相对，反而显得委婉巧妙且令人信服。
“请不要立刻拒绝，波洛先生。事关重大，皇室将非常感激您的合作。”
“你太抬举我了，”赫尔克里•波洛摆了摆手，“但我实在不能接受你的委托。在一年中的这个时节——”
杰斯蒙德先生再一次打断了他。“圣诞节马上就要到了，您可以在英国乡村度过一个愉快而传统的节日。”他的话语充满了说服力。
然而，赫尔克里•波洛哆嗦了一下。在这个寒冷季节，英国乡村对他没有任何吸引力。
“一个美好的传统圣诞节！”杰斯蒙德先生强调着。
“对我来说……请你理解，我不是英国人。在我自己的国家，圣诞节是小孩子的节日，新年才是我们成年人庆祝的。”赫尔克里•波洛回答道。
“但是在英国，圣诞节是一个重要的节日。而且我向您保证，您将见到金斯莱西最美好的一面。它是一栋古老迷人的别墅，其中的一翼建于十四世纪。”杰斯蒙德先生说。
赫尔克里•波洛再次哆嗦了一下。十四世纪的英国庄园别墅让他感到不安，毕竟，他经历过太多次英国乡村历史建筑的折磨。他感激地环视着自己这套舒适的现代公寓，暖气炉和最新专利发明帮他阻挡了冬日的严寒。
“在冬天，我是不会离开伦敦的。”他坚定地说。
“波洛先生，我认为您还没有完全理解这件事情的严重程度。”杰斯蒙德先生说着，看了一眼他的同伴。
波洛的另一位访客，在到访时礼貌而官方地问候了一句“您好”之后，至今都未开口说话。他坐在那儿，低着头盯着自己刷得亮锃锃的鞋子，咖啡色的脸上露出极为沮丧的神情。他是个年轻人，看上去似乎不超过二十三岁，显然正沉浸在深深的痛苦之中。
“当然、当然，”赫尔克里•波洛说，“事情很严重，我明白。我对殿下的处境感到非常遗憾。”
“殿下的处境非常敏感。”杰斯蒙德先生说。
波洛的目光从年轻人的身上移开，转向了他这位较为年长的同行者。如果要用一个词来总结杰斯蒙德先生的话，那就是谨慎。杰斯蒙德先生做什么都小心翼翼的。他穿着裁剪精良却又低调不张扬的服装，令人愉悦、教养良好的声音几乎没有提高过音调，太阳穴附近的浅棕色头发稍微有些稀疏，面色苍白而严肃。赫尔克里•波洛觉得至此自己认识不止一位杰斯蒙德先生，这世界上有一打杰斯蒙特先生，而他们迟早都会在某个时刻说出相同的一句话——“处境非常敏感”。
“你们可以向警察求助，”赫尔克里•波洛说，“警方会很谨慎的。”
杰斯蒙德先生坚决地摇了摇头。
“我们不能寻求警方的帮助，”他说，“要找回……嗯……我们想要找回的东西，几乎不可能不触动法律程序，但我们对其知之甚少。我们有我们的怀疑，但仍未把握事情的真相。”
“对此我深表同情。”赫尔克里•波洛又重复了一次。
如果他认为他的同情对他的访客具有任何意义的话，他错了。他们不需要同情，他们需要实际的帮助。杰斯蒙德先生又一次提及即将来临的英式圣诞节将会多么令人愉快。
“真正的传统圣诞节即将消失。”他说，“如今人们都在酒店过圣诞。但传统的英式圣诞节应该是全家人团聚在一起，有孩子们和他们满怀期待准备接收圣诞礼物的长筒袜，有诱人的圣诞树、火鸡、圣诞布丁和饼干。窗外堆着雪人——”
出于严谨，赫尔克里•波洛打断了他的话。
“只有下雪的时候人们才能堆雪人。”他严肃地说，“即使是为了英式圣诞节，也没有人能命令上天降雪。”
“我今天刚同气象局的朋友谈及此事，”杰斯蒙德先生说，“他告诉我今年圣诞节极可能下雪。”
他不应该说出这句话，赫尔克里•波洛听后，颤抖得更厉害了。
“下雪的乡村，一座空荡寒冷由石头砌成的庄园别墅！这简直糟透了。”他说。
“您完全不用担心。”杰斯蒙德先生说，“过去的十多年，一切都改变了很多。那栋别墅现在安装有燃油中央供暖设备。”
“金斯莱西有燃油中央供暖设备？”赫尔克里•波洛问道。这是他第一次看上去有些动摇。
杰斯蒙德先生敏锐地抓住了机会。“是的，”他说，“还有完美的热水系统。每个卧室都有暖气。波洛先生，我向您保证，金斯莱西的冬天非常舒适，你甚至有可能觉得房间里太温暖了。”
“这是不太可能的。”赫尔克里•波洛说。
经验丰富而机警的杰斯蒙德先生稍微改变了他劝说的方式。
“您明白我们两难的处境。”他压低了声音，以一种私密的语气说道。
赫尔克里•波洛点了点头。他们所面对的问题确实让人不快。一位即将继位的年轻王储，同时也是一个富裕且重要的国家的统治者的独子，在几个星期前到达了伦敦。他的国家正处于动荡之中。他父亲的生活方式非常东方且保守。他虽然忠于父亲，但民众对这位年轻王储的看法是有所保留的，因为这位年轻的王储有过一些西式的愚蠢行为，民众对此并不认可。
然而最近，他宣布了婚约——他即将与一位同血统的表妹结婚。这位年轻女士虽然是在剑桥接受的教育，但她在自己国家里小心翼翼地展现出未受西方文化影响的形象。他们婚礼的日子已经公布，年轻的王子带着他家族的一些知名的传世珠宝到英国来，准备让卡迪亚珠宝公司将这些首饰改造成现代的样式。这其中包括一颗非常著名的红宝石。知名珠宝商将宝石从笨重过时的项链上取下来，赋予它一个全新的样式。事情至此本是很顺利的，但之后发生了一件小小的意外。富有且热爱社交的年轻男性是很容易犯下一些贪图享乐的错误的。只要没有造成任何严重的后果，年轻的王子们以这样的方式消遣也无妨。王储带着临时的女友在邦德街 [1] 散步时赠送她一对翡翠手镯或一小块钻石来表示感谢都是正常且得体的行为。事实上，王储的父亲当年就曾赠送卡迪拉克车给他最喜欢的舞女。但这位王储所做的比他父亲更加随意和不谨慎。在与女伴调情时，他向她展示了重新设计改造过的著名红宝石，最终竟然不明智地同意让女伴佩戴红宝石一晚！
后续故事很短且令人伤心。这位女士以补妆为借口离开了餐桌，时间分分秒秒流逝，她却一直没有回来。她从另外一个出口离开了建筑物，就此消失了。更重要而又让人感到不安的是，那颗重新打造过的昂贵的红宝石就此和她一起消失得无影无踪。
这些事情一旦被公开，将会直接产生冲击性影响。这颗红宝石不仅仅是一颗宝石，它同时是具有重大历史意义的传家宝。造成它遗失的缘由又是如此，任何不适当的消息泄露都会造成严重的政治后果。
杰斯蒙德先生并没有将事实简单地描述出来，而是用冗长的陈述将它包装了一下。赫尔克里•波洛并不知道杰斯蒙德先生是谁，但在他的职业生涯中，波洛见过其他的“杰斯蒙德先生”。这些“杰斯蒙德先生”并不特定隶属于国土局、外交部，或是其他什么敏感的政府部门，而是基于各个部门共同的利益而行动的。现在这些部门的共同利益就是，为了国家，必须把红宝石找回来。
波洛正是杰斯蒙德先生坚信能找回红宝石的人选。
“我也许可以做到，”赫尔克里•波洛承认，“但是你们能告诉我的太少了，只有一些怀疑和猜测，并没有太多有用的信息。”
“波洛先生，请不要这么说，这肯定是您能力范围之内的事情。请接下这个案子吧。”
“我也不是总能成功的。”
这话不过是虚伪的谦虚。从波洛的语调中可以清晰地听出，在他看来，一旦他接下了这个案子，基本等同于事件已经得到解决。
“王子殿下还很年轻，”杰斯蒙德先生说，“他的一生如果仅仅因为这样一个年轻时不谨慎而犯下的错误就此被毁，实在太可惜了。”
波洛温和地看着沮丧的年轻人。“人年轻的时候正是做些蠢事的时候，”他鼓励道，“对于一般的年轻人而言，这是无害的。有他的好父亲帮忙把债还了，请个家庭律师调解一下纠纷，年轻人从中得到了教训，事情也就皆大欢喜地解决了。只是您现在所处的情境确实很让人为难。您即将开始的婚姻……”
“这正是问题所在，真正的问题就在这儿。”年轻人第一次开口了，“您要明白，她非常非常严肃。她对生活本身非常认真。她在剑桥学习了很多非常正派的想法。您要明白，她认为，我的国家要发展教育，会有许多的学校，还有其他很多东西，这一切都要在民主的名义下进行。她说，所有一切都将会跟我父亲统治的时代大不相同。她自然知道我在伦敦会有其他人。但不能有丑闻，不能！丑闻才是最关键的问题。您知道这颗红宝石非常非常著名，它历史悠久，许多人为之流过血，还有很多伴随着死亡的故事。”
“死亡。”赫尔克里•波洛若有所思。他看着杰斯蒙德先生说：“希望事情不会发展到这个地步。”
杰斯蒙德先生发出了奇怪的声音，像一只刚生了蛋的母鸡又后悔生了蛋一样。
“当然、当然。”他说，语气听上去有些局促，“毫无疑问，我敢肯定，不会有类似的事情发生。”
“你不能肯定这一点，”赫尔克里•波洛说，“现在无论谁拥有这颗红宝石，都会有其他贪婪之人想要占有它。而那些人，我的朋友，他们是不会为杀不杀人这种琐碎的事情烦心的。”
“我真的不这么认为，”杰斯蒙德先生说，语气似乎更加局促，“我们现在没有必要做出这样的猜测，这对我们的处境毫无益处。”
“对我来说，”赫尔克里•波洛突然摆出一副事不关己的态度，“我需要像政治家一样考虑一切可能性。”
杰斯蒙德先生不太有把握地看着波洛。他努力振作了一下，说道：“那么，我能理解成我们达成共识了吗，赫尔克里•波洛先生？您愿意去金斯莱西了？”
“我要如何解释为什么我会出现在那里？”赫尔克里•波洛问。
杰斯蒙德先生露出了自信的微笑。
“我想这很容易安排。”他说，“我向您保证，一切看上去都将十分自然。您会发现那里很有魅力，那里的人也让人愉快。”
“你没有在燃油中央供暖设备这件事情上骗我吧？”
“没有，绝对没有。”杰斯蒙德先生听上去似乎受到了伤害，“我向您保证，您会发现一切都很舒适。”
“所有一切都舒适而现代化。 [2] ”波洛用怀念的语气自言自语道，“好吧，我接受这个邀请。”
注释：
[1]伦敦市中心著名的购物街。
[2]原文为法语。文中多次插入法语，为方便起见，全部以仿宋字体表示。
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING（2）
II
The temperature in the long drawing- room at Kings Lacey was a comfortable sixty- eight asHercule Poirot sat talking to Mrs Lacey by one of the big mullioned windows. Mrs Lacey wasengaged in needlework. She was not doing petit point or embroidering flowers upon silk. Instead,she appeared to be engaged in the prosaic task of hemming dishclothes. As she sewed she talked ina soft reflective voice that Poirot found very charming.
"I hope you will enjoy our Christmas party here, M. Poirot. It's only the family, you know. Mygranddaughter and a grandson and a friend of his and Bridget who's my great-niece, and Dianawho's a cousin and David Welwyn who is a very old friend. Just a family party. But EdwinaMorecombe said that that's what you really wanted to see. An old-fashioned Christmas. Nothingcould be more old-fashioned than we are! My husband, you know, absolutely lives in the past. Helikes everything to be just as it was when he was a boy of twelve years old, and used to come herefor his holidays." She smiled to herself. "All the same old things, the Christmas tree and thestockings hung up and the oyster soup and the turkey - two turkeys, one boiled and one roast - andthe plum pudding with the ring and the bachelor's button and all the rest of it in it. One can't havesixpences nowadays because they're not pure silver any more. But all the old desserts, the Elvasplums and Carlsbad plums and almonds and raisins, and crystallised fruit and ginger. Dear me, Isound like a catalogue from Fortnum and Mason!""You arouse my gastronomic juices, Madame."
"I expect we'll all have frightful indigestion by tomorrow evening," said Mrs Lacey. "One isn'tused to eating so much nowadays, is one?"
She was interrupted by some loud shouts and whoops of laughter outside the window. She glancedout.
"I don't know what they're doing out there. Playing some game or other, I suppose. I've alwaysbeen so afraid, you know, that these young people would be bored by our Christmas here. But notat all, it's just the opposite. Now my own son and daughter and their friends, they used to be rathersophisticated about Christmas. Say it was all nonsense and too much fuss and it would be farbetter to go out to a hotel somewhere and dance. But the younger generation seem to find all thisterribly attractive. Besides," added Mrs Lacey practically, "schoolboys and schoolgirls are alwayshungry, aren't they? I think they must starve them at these schools. After all, one does knowchildren of that age each eat about as much as three strong men."Poirot laughed and said, "It is most kind of you and your husband, Madame, to include me in thisway in your family party."
"Oh, we're both delighted, I'm sure," said Mrs Lacey. "And if you find Horace a little gruff," shecontinued, "pay no attention. It's just his manner, you know."What her husband, Colonel Lacey, had actually said was: "Can't think why you want one of thesedamned foreigners here cluttering up Christmas? Why can't we have him some other time? Can'tstick foreigners! All right, all right, so Edwina Morecombe wished him on us. What's it got to dowith her, I should like to know? Why doesn't she have him for Christmas?""Because you know very well," Mrs Lacey had said, "that Edwina always goes to Claridge's."Her husband had looked at her piercingly and said, "Not up to something, are you, Em?""Up to something?" said Em, opening very blue eyes. "Of course not. Why should I be?"Old Colonel Lacey laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh. "I wouldn't put it past you, Em," he said.
"When you look your most innocent is when you are up to something."Revolving these things in her mind, Mrs Lacey went on: "Edwina said she thought perhaps youmight help us... I'm sure I don't know quite how, but she said that friends of yours had once foundyou very helpful in - in a case something like ours. I - well, perhaps you don't know what I'mtalking about?"
Poirot looked at her encouragingly. Mrs Lacey was close on seventy, as upright as a ramrod, withsnow-white hair, pink cheeks, blue eyes, a ridiculous nose and a determined chin.
"If there is anything I can do I shall only be too happy to do it," said Poirot. "It is, I understand, arather unfortunate matter of a young girl's infatuation."Mrs Lacey nodded. "Yes. It seems extraordinary that I should - well, want to talk to you about it.
After all, you are a perfect stranger..."
"And a foreigner," said Poirot, in an understanding manner.
"Yes," said Mrs Lacey, "but perhaps that makes it easier, in a way. Anyhow, Edwina seemed tothink that you might perhaps know something - how shall I put it - something useful about thisyoung Desmond Lee-Wortley."
Poirot paused a moment to admire the ingenuity of Mr Jelmond and the ease with which he hadmade use of Lady Morecombe to further his own purposes.
"He has not, I understand, a very good reputation, this young man?" he began delicately.
"No, indeed, he hasn't! A very bad reputation! But that's no help so far as Sarah is concerned. It'snever any good, is it, telling young girls that men have a bad reputation? It - it just spurs them on!""You are so very right," said Poirot.
"In my young day," went on Mrs Lacey. "(Oh dear, that's a very long time ago!) We used to bewarned, you know, against certain young men, and of course it did heighten one's interest in them,and if one could possibly manage to dance with them, or to be alone with them in a darkconservatory..." she laughed. "That's why I wouldn't let Horace do any of the things he wanted todo."
"Tell me," said Poirot, "exactly what it is that troubles you?""Our son was killed in the war," Mrs Lacey. "My daughter-in-law died when Sarah was born sothat she has always been with us, and we've brought her up. Perhaps we've brought her upunwisely - I don't know. But we thought we ought always to leave her as free as possible.""That is desirable, I think," said Poirot. "One cannot go against the spirit of the times.""No," said Mrs Lacey, "that's just what I felt about it. And, of course, girls nowadays do do thesesort of things."
Poirot looked at her inquiringly.
"I think the way one expresses it," said Mrs Lacey, "is that Sarah has got in with what they call thecoffee-bar set. She won't go to dances or come out properly or be a deb or anything of that kind.
Instead she has two rather unpleasant rooms in Chelsea down by the river and wears these funnyclothes that they like to wear, and black stockings or bright green ones. Very thick stockings. (Soprickly, I always think!) And she goes about without washing or combing her hair.""?a, c'est tout à fait naturelle," said Poirot. "It is the fashion of the moment. They grow out of it.""Yes, I know," said Mrs Lacey. "I wouldn't worry about that sort of thing. But you see she's takenup with this Desmond Lee-Wortley and he really has a very unsavoury reputation. He lives moreor less on well-to-do girls. They seem to go quite mad about him. He very nearly married the Hopegirl, but her people got her made a ward of court or something. And of course that's what Horacewants to do. He says he must do it for her protection. But I don't think it's really a good idea, M.
Poirot. I mean, they'll just run away together and go to Scotland or Ireland or the Argentine orsomewhere and either get married or else live together without getting married. And although itmay be contempt of court and all that - well, it isn't really an answer, is it, in the end? Especially ifa baby's coming. One has to give in then, and let them get married. And then, nearly always, itseems to me, after a year or two there's a divorce. And then the girl comes home and usually aftera year or two she marries someone so nice he's almost dull and settles down. But it's particularlysad, it seems to me, if there is a child, because it's not the same thing, being brought up by astepfather, however nice. No, I think it's much better if we did as we did in my young days. I meanthe first young man one fell in love with was always someone undesirable. I remember I had ahorrible passion for a young man called - now what was his name now? - how strange it is, I can'tremember his Christian name at all! Tibbitt, that was his surname. Young Tibbitt. Of course, myfather more or less forbade him the house, but he used to get asked to the same dances, and weused to dance together. And sometimes we'd escape and sit out together and occasionally friendswould arrange picnics to which we both went. Of course, it was all very exciting and forbiddenand one enjoyed it enormously. But one didn't go to the well, to the lengths that girls go nowadays.
And so, after a while, the Mr Tibbitts faded out. And do you know, when I saw him four yearslater I was surprised what I could ever have seen in him! He seemed to be such a dull young man.
Flashy, you know. No interesting conversation.""One always thinks the days of one's own youth are best," said Poirot, somewhat sententiously.
"I know," said Mrs Lacey. "It's tiresome, isn't it? I mustn't be tiresome. But all the same I don'twant Sarah, who's a dear girl really, to marry Desmond Lee-Wortley. She and David Welwyn,who is staying here, were always such friends and so fond of each other, and we did hope, Horaceand I, that they would grow up and marry. But of course she just finds him dull now, and she'sabsolutely infatuated with Desmond."
"I do not quite understand, Madame," said Poirot. "You have him here now, staying in the house,this Desmond Lee-Wortley?"
"That's my doing," said Mrs Lacey. "Horace was all for forbidding her to see him and all that. Ofcourse, in Horace's day, the father or guardian would have called round at the young man'slodgings with a horse whip! Horace was all for forbidding the fellow the house, and forbidding thegirl to see him. I told him that was quite the wrong attitude to take. 'No,' I said. 'Ask him downhere. We'll have him down for Christmas with the family party.' Of course, my husband said I wasmad! But I said, 'At any rate, dear, let's try it. Let her see him in our atmosphere and our house andwe'll be very nice to him and very polite, and perhaps then he'll seem less interesting to her'!""I think, as they say, you have something there, Madame," said Poirot. "I think your point of viewis very wise. Wiser than your husband's."
"Well, I hope it is," said Mrs Lacey doubtfully. "It doesn't seem to be working much yet. But ofcourse he's only been here a couple of days." A sudden dimple showed in her wrinkled cheek. "I'llconfess something to you, M. Poirot. I myself can't help liking him. I don't mean I really like him,with my mind, but I can feel the charm all right. Oh yes, I can see what Sarah sees in him. But I'man old enough woman and have enough experience to know that he's absolutely no good. Even if Ido enjoy his company. Though I do think," added Mrs Lacey, rather wistfully, "he has some goodpoints. He asked if he might bring his sister here, you know. She's had an operation and was inhospital. He said it was so sad for her being in a nursing home over Christmas and he wondered ifit would be too much trouble if he could bring her with him. He said he'd take all her meals up toher and all that. Well now, I do think that was rather nice of him, don't you, M. Poirot?""It shows a consideration," said Poirot, thoughtfully, "which seems almost out of character.""Oh, I don't know. You can have family affections at the same time as wishing to prey on a richyoung girl. Sarah will be very rich, you know, not only with what we leave her - and of course thatwon't be very much because most of the money goes with the place to Colin, my grandson. Buther mother was a very rich woman and Sarah will inherit all her money when she's twenty-one.
She's only twenty now. No, I do think it was nice of Desmond to mind about his sister. And hedidn't pretend she was anything very wonderful or that. She's a shorthand typist, I gather - doessecretarial work in London. And he's been as good as his word and does carry up trays to her. Notall the time, of course, but quite often. So I think he has some nice points. But all the same," saidMrs Lacey with great decision, "I don't want Sarah to marry him.""From all I have heard and been told," said Poirot, "that would indeed be a disaster.""Do you think it would be possible for you to help us in any way?" asked Mrs Lacey.
"I think it is possible, yes," said Hercule Poirot, "but I do not wish to promise too much. For theMr Desmond Lee- Wortleys of this world are clever, Madame. But do not despair. One can,perhaps, do a little something. I shall at any rate, put forth my best endeavours, if only in gratitudefor your kindness in asking me here for this Christmas festivity." He looked round him. "And itcannot be so easy these days to have Christmas festivities.""No, indeed," Mrs Lacey sighed. She leaned forward. "Do you know, M. Poirot, what I reallydream of - what I would love to have?"
"But tell me, Madame."
"I simply long to have a small, modern bungalow. No, perhaps not a bungalow exactly, but asmall, modern, easy to run house built somewhere in the park here, and live in it with anabsolutely up-to-date kitchen and no long passages. Everything easy and simple.""It is a very practical idea, Madame."
"It's not practical for me," said Mrs Lacey. "My husband adores this place. He loves living here.
He doesn't mind being slightly uncomfortable, he doesn't mind the inconveniences and he wouldhate, simply hate, to live in a small modern house in the park!""So you sacrifice yourself to his wishes?"
Mrs Lacey drew herself up. "I do not consider it a sacrifice, M. Poirot," she said. "I married myhusband with the wish to make him happy. He has been a good husband to me and made me veryhappy all these years, and I wish to give happiness to him.""So you will continue to live here," said Poirot.
"It's not really too uncomfortable," said Mrs Lacey.
"No, no," said Poirot, hastily. "On the contrary, it is most comfortable. Your central heating andyour bath water are perfection."
"We spend a lot of money in making the house comfortable to live in," said Mrs Lacey. "We wereable to sell some land. Ripe for development, I think they call it. Fortunately right out of sight ofthe house on the other side of the park. Really rather an ugly bit of ground with no nice view, butwe got a very good price for it. So that we have been able to have as many improvements aspossible."
"But the service, Madame?"
"Oh, well, that presents less difficulty than you might think. Of course, one cannot expect to belooked after and waited upon as one used to be. Different people come in from the village. Twowomen in the morning, another two to cook lunch and wash it up, and different ones again in theevening. There are plenty of people who want to come and work for a few hours a day. Of coursefor Christmas we are very lucky. My dear Mrs Ross always comes in every Christmas. She is awonderful cook, really first-class. She retired about ten years ago, but she comes in to help us inany emergency. Then there is dear Peverell."
"Your butler?"
"Yes. He is pensioned off and lives in the little house near the lodge, but he is so devoted, and heinsists on coming to wait on us at Christmas. Really, I'm terrified, M. Poirot, because he's so oldand so shaky that I feel certain that if he carries anything heavy he will drop it. It's really an agonyto watch him. And his heart is not good and I'm afraid of his doing too much. But it would hurt hisfeelings dreadfully if I did not let him come. He hems and hahs and makes disapproving noiseswhen he sees the state our silver is in and within three days of being here, it is all wonderful again.
Yes. He is a dear faithful friend." She smiled at Poirot. "So you see, we are all set for a happyChristmas. A white Christmas, too," she added as she looked out of the window. "See? It isbeginning to snow. Ah, the children are coming in. You must meet them, M. Poirot."Poirot was introduced with due ceremony. First, to Colin and Michael, the schoolboy grandsonand his friend, nice polite lads of fifteen, one dark, one fair. Then to their cousin, Bridget, a black-haired girl of about the same age with enormous vitality.
"And this is my granddaughter, Sarah," said Mrs Lacey.
Poirot looked with some interest at Sarah, an attractive girl with a mop of red hair; her mannerseemed to him nervy and a trifle defiant, but she showed real affection for her grandmother.
"And this is Mr Lee-Wortley."
Mr Lee-Wortley wore a fisherman's jersey and tight black jeans; his hair was rather long and itseemed doubtful whether he had shaved that morning. In contrast to him was a young manintroduced as David Welwyn, who was solid and quiet, with a pleasant smile, and rather obviouslyaddicted to soap and water. There was one other member of the party, a handsome, rather intense-looking girl who was introduced as Diana Middleton.
Tea was brought in. A hearty meal of scones, crumpets, sandwiches and three kinds of cake. Theyounger members of the party appreciated the tea. Colonel Lacey came in last, remarking in anoncommittal voice:
"Hey, tea? Oh yes, tea."
He received his cup of tea from his wife's hand, helped himself to two scones, cast a look ofaversion at Desmond Lee-Wortley and sat down as far away from him as he could. He was a bigman with bushy eyebrows and a red, weather-beaten face. He might have been taken for a farmerrather than the lord of the manor.
"Started to snow," he said. "It's going to be a white Christmas all right."After tea the party dispersed.
"I expect they'll go and play with their tape recorders now," said Mrs Lacey to Poirot. She lookedindulgently after her grandson as he left the room. Her tone was that of one who says "Thechildren are going to play with their toy soldiers.""They're frightfully technical, of course," she said, "and very grand about it all."The boys and Bridget, however, decided to go along to the lake and see if the ice on it was likelyto make skating possible.
"I thought we could have skated on it this morning," said Colin. "But old Hodgkins said no. He'salways so terribly careful."
"Come for a walk, David," said Diana Middleton, softly. David hesitated for half a moment, hiseyes on Sarah's red head. She was standing by Desmond Lee-Wortley, her hand on his arm,looking up into his face.
"All right," said David Welwyn, "yes, let's."Diana slipped a quick hand through his arm and they turned towards the door into the garden.
Sarah said:
"Shall we go, too, Desmond? It's fearfully stuffy in the house.""Who wants to walk?" said Desmond. "I'll get my car out. We'll go along to the Speckled Boar andhave a drink."
Sarah hesitated for a moment before saying:
"Let's go to Market Ledbury to the White Hart. It's much more fun."Though for all the world she would not have put it into words, Sarah had an instinctive revulsionfrom going down to the local pub with Desmond. It was, somehow, not in the tradition of KingsLacey. The women of Kings Lacey had never frequented the bar of the Speckled Boar. She had anobscure feeling that to go there would be to let old Colonel Lacey and his wife down. And whynot? Desmond Lee-Wortley would have said. For a moment of exasperation Sarah felt that heought to know why not! One didn't upset such old darlings as Grandfather and dear old Em unlessit was necessary. They'd been very sweet, really, letting her lead her own life, not understanding inthe least why she wanted to live in Chelsea in the way she did, but accepting it. That was due toEm of course. Grandfather would have kicked up no end of a row.
Sarah had no illusions about her grandfather's attitude. It was not his doing that Desmond had beenasked to stay at Kings Lacey. That was Em, and Em was a darling and always had been.
When Desmond had gone to fetch his car, Sarah popped her head into the drawing-room again.
"We're going over to Market Ledbury," she said. "We thought we'd have a drink there at the WhiteHart."
There was a slight amount of defiance in her voice, but Mrs Lacey did not seem to notice it.
"Well, dear," she said, "I'm sure that will be very nice. David and Diana have gone for a walk, Isee. I'm so glad. I really think it was a brainwave on my part to ask Diana here. So sad being left awidow so young - only twenty-two - I do hope she marries again soon."Sarah looked at her sharply. "What are you up to, Em?""It's my little plan," said Mrs Lacey gleefully. "I think she's just right for David. Of course I knowhe was terribly in love with you, Sarah dear, but you'd no use for him and I realise that he isn'tyour type. But I don't want him to go on being unhappy, and I think Diana will really suit him.""What a matchmaker you are, Em," said Sarah.
"I know," said Mrs Lacey. "Old women always are. Diana's quite keen on him already, I think.
Don't you think she'd be just right for him?""I shouldn't say so," said Sarah. "I think Diana's far too - well, too intense, too serious. I shouldthink David would find it terribly boring being married to her.""Well, we'll see," said Mrs Lacey. "Anyway, you don't want him, do you, dear?""No, indeed," said Sarah, very quickly. She added, in a sudden rush, "You do like Desmond, don'tyou, Em?"
"I'm sure he's very nice indeed," said Mrs Lacey.
"Grandfather doesn't like him," said Sarah.
"Well, you could hardly expect him to, could you?" said Mrs Lacey reasonably, "but I dare sayhe'll come round when he gets used to the idea. You mustn't rush him, Sarah dear. Old people arevery slow to change their minds and your grandfather is rather obstinate.""I don't care what Grandfather thinks or says," said Sarah. "I shall get married to Desmondwhenever I like!"
"I know, dear, I know. But do try and be realistic about it. Your grandfather could cause a lot oftrouble, you know. You're not of age yet. In another year you can do as you please. I expectHorace will have come round long before that.""You're on my side aren't you, darling?" said Sarah. She flung her arms round her grandmother'sneck and gave her an affectionate kiss.
"I want you to be happy," said Mrs Lacey. "Ah! there's your young man bringing his car round.
You know, I like these very tight trousers these young men wear nowadays. They look so smartonly, of course, it does accentuate knock knees."Yes, Sarah thought, Desmond had got knock knees, she had never noticed it before...
"Go on, dear, enjoy yourself," said Mrs Lacey.
She watched her go out to the car, then, remembering her foreign guest, she went along to thelibrary. Looking in, however, she saw that Hercule Poirot was taking a pleasant little nap, andsmiling to herself, she went across the hall and out into the kitchen to have a conference with MrsRoss.
"Come on, beautiful," said Desmond. "Your family cutting up rough because you're coming out toa pub? Years behind the times here, aren't they?""Of course they're not making a fuss," said Sarah, sharply as she got into the car.
"What's the idea of having that foreign fellow down? He's a detective, isn't he? What needsdetecting here?"
"Oh, he's not here professionally," said Sarah. "Edwina Morecombe, my godmother, asked us tohave him. I think he's retired from professional work long ago.""Sounds like a broken-down old cab horse," said Desmond.
"He wanted to see an old-fashioned English Christmas, I believe," said Sarah vaguely.
Desmond laughed scornfully. "Such a lot of tripe, that sort of thing," he said. "How you can standit I don't know."
Sarah's red hair was tossed back and her aggressive chin shot up.
"I enjoy it!" she said defiantly.
"You can't, baby. Let's cut the whole thing tomorrow. Go over to Scarborough or somewhere.""I couldn't possibly do that."
"Why not?"
"Oh, it would hurt their feelings."
"Oh, bilge! You know you don't enjoy this childish sentimental bosh.""Well, not really perhaps, but..." Sarah broke off. She realised with a feeling of guilt that she waslooking forward a good deal to the Christmas celebration. She enjoyed the whole thing, but shewas ashamed to admit that to Desmond. It was not the thing to enjoy Christmas and family life.
Just for a moment she wished that Desmond had not come down here at Christmas time. In fact,she almost wished that Desmond had not come down here at all. It was much more fun seeingDesmond in London than here at home.
In the meantime the boys and Bridget were walking back from the lake, still discussing earnestlythe problems of skating. Flecks of snow had been falling, and looking up at the sky it could beprophesied that before long there was going to be a heavy snowfall.
"It's going to snow all night," said Colin. "Bet you by Christmas morning we have a couple of feetof snow."
The prospect was a pleasurable one. "Let's make a snow-man," said Michael.
"Good lord," said Colin. "I haven't made a snow-man since - well, since I was about four yearsold."
"I don't believe it's a bit easy to do," said Bridget. "I mean, you have to know how.""We might make an effigy of M. Poirot," said Colin. "Give it a big black moustache. There is onein the dressing-up box."
"I don't see, you know," said Michael thoughtfully, "how M. Poirot could ever have been adetective. I don't see how he'd ever be able to disguise himself.""I know," said Bridget, "and one can't imagine him running about with a microscope and lookingfor clues or measuring footprints."
"I've got an idea," said Colin. "Let's put on a show for him!""What do you mean, a show?" asked Bridget.
"Well, arrange a murder for him."
"What a gorgeous idea," said Bridget. "Do you mean a body in the snow - that sort of thing?""Yes. It would make him feel at home, wouldn't it?"Bridget giggled.
"I don't know that I'd go as far as that."
"If it snows," said Colin, "we'll have the perfect setting. A body and footprints - we'll have to thinkthat out rather carefully and pinch one of Grandfather's daggers and make some blood."They came to a halt and oblivious to the rapidly falling snow, entered into an excited discussion.
"There's a paintbox in the old schoolroom. We could mix up some blood - crimson-lake, I shouldthink."
"Crimson-lake's a bit too pink, I think," said Bridget. "It ought to be a bit browner.""Who's going to be the body?" asked Michael.
"I'll be the body," said Bridget quickly.
"Oh, look here," said Colin, "I thought of it.""Oh, no, no," said Bridget, "it must be me. It's got to be a girl. It's more exciting. Beautiful girllying lifeless in the snow."
"Beautiful girl! Ah-ha," said Michael in derision.
"I've got black hair, too," said Bridget.
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Well, it'll show up so well on the snow and I shall wear my red pyjamas.""If you wear red pyjamas, they won't show the bloodstains," said Michael in a practical manner.
"But they'd look so effective against the snow," said Bridget, "and they've got white facings, youknow, so the blood could be on that. Oh, won't it be gorgeous? Do you think he will really betaken in?"
"He will if we do it well enough," said Michael. "We'll have just your footprints in the snow andone other person's going to the body and coming away from it - a man's, of course. He won't wantto disturb them, so he won't know that you're not really dead. You don't think," Michael stopped,struck by a sudden idea. The others looked at him. "You don't think he'll be annoyed about it?""Oh, I shouldn't think so," said Bridget, with facile optimism. "I'm sure he'll understand that we'vejust done it to entertain him. A sort of Christmas treat.""I don't think we ought to do it on Christmas Day," said Colin reflectively. "I don't thinkGrandfather would like that very much."
"Boxing Day then," said Bridget.
"Boxing Day would be just right," said Michael.
"And it'll give us more time, too," pursued Bridget. "After all, there are a lot of things to arrange.
Let's go and have a look at all the props."
They hurried into the house.
雪地上的女尸（2）
2金斯莱西狭长的画室保持着令人舒适的华氏六十八度 [1] 。赫尔克里•波洛和莱西太太坐在巨大的窗前闲聊。莱西太太一边说话一边做着针线活，并非绣地毯或在丝绸上绣花之类精细的手工活，而是为洗碗布卷边。她说话的声音温柔稳重，波洛觉得很有魅力。
“波洛先生，我希望您能喜欢我们的圣诞聚餐。请您谅解，来参加聚餐的只有家人，包括我的孙女、外孙和他的朋友，我的好外甥女布里奇特，我的一个远亲戴安娜，以及一位老朋友大卫•韦林。这只是一个家庭聚会。但埃德温娜•莫克姆说这正是您真正想体验的，一个传统的圣诞节。没有哪里能比我们更传统了！我的丈夫，如您所知，是个绝对生活在过去时光里的人。他喜欢把所有一切都保持在自己还是十二岁小男孩时来这里过圣诞节时的模样。”她笑了起来，“所有的一切，圣诞树、悬挂的长筒袜、牡蛎汤，以及火鸡——必须有两只火鸡，一只煮一只烤——以及包有戒指和单身汉纽扣等其他所有东西的圣诞布丁[2] 。可惜六便士不再是银质的，我们不能再用了。但我们有所有的传统甜点，埃尔瓦什李子和卡尔斯巴德李子、杏仁和葡萄干，以及水果蜜饯和糖姜。天哪，我听上去像是在念福特纳姆和梅森 [3] 的产品目录。”
“您说得我垂涎欲滴。”
“希望明天晚上我们能很满意地吃到发撑。”莱西太太说，“我们现在都不太能吃了，不是吗？”
她的话被窗外传来的叫嚷和大笑声打断了。她往外看了看。
“我不知道他们在外面做什么。大概是在玩什么游戏，或者做些其他的事情。您知道吗，我之前一直担心年轻人会觉得在我们这儿过传统的圣诞节很无聊。但事实上完全不会，正好相反。我的儿子、女儿以及他们的朋友们都受够了圣诞节，认为太小题大做，毫无意义。他们更乐意出门去酒店跳舞。不过更年轻的一代觉得圣诞非常有吸引力。而且，”莱西太太特意补充道，“男女学生们都总是饥肠辘辘，我想他们一定是在学校被饿着了。毕竟人人都知道，这个年龄的孩子一人大约能吃三个强壮成年人的分量。”
波洛大笑起来说道：“夫人，您和您的丈夫实在太好了。感谢您能以这种方式邀请我来参加您的家庭聚会。”
“哦，我们很乐意。”莱西太太说，“顺便一提，如果您发现贺拉斯有些板着脸，请别在意。他就是这种性情。”
实际上，她的丈夫莱西陆军上校对她说的是：“无法想象你为什么要让一个该死的外国人在这里搞乱我们的圣诞节？为什么我们不能在其他的时候邀请他？真受不了外国人！好吧、好吧，所以是埃德温娜•莫克姆希望他跟我们一起过？我真想知道她出了什么毛病。为什么她不邀请他到自己家过圣诞？”
“因为你也很清楚，埃德温娜总是去克拉里奇酒店 [4] 过圣诞节。”莱西太太只好如此回答。
她丈夫目光锐利地看着她。“你不会在计划着什么吧？”
“计划着什么？”艾玛 [5] 睁大了蓝色的眼睛说，“当然不是。为什么我要这么做？”
老莱西上校发出了雷鸣般的笑声。“如果你在计划什么，我一点也不奇怪，艾玛。”他说，“当你看起来最无辜的时候，总是在计划着什么。”
在脑中绕开这个话题，莱西太太继续对波洛说：“埃德温娜说，她认为您可能可以帮助我们……我不太清楚具体情况，但她告诉我，你们有位共同的朋友曾经处在一个跟我们类似的情境里，最终得到了您的帮助。我……也许您并不清楚我在说什么？”
波洛鼓励地看着她。莱西太太即将七十岁了，她坐得笔直，头发雪白，面色红润，有一双蓝色的眼睛、可笑的鼻子和一个看上去意志坚定的下巴。
“如果有任何事情能帮上忙，我将非常乐意。”波洛说，“据我所知，事情跟一位年轻的女士不幸沉醉于盲目的爱情有关？”
莱西太太点了点头。“是的。我应该——或者说我想跟您说，这件事似乎有些奇怪。毕竟，您是一位完全的陌生人……”
“同时还是个外国人。”波洛表示理解。
“是的，”莱西太太说，“不过也许从另一个角度说，这反而让我能更自如地跟您商讨这件事。无论如何，埃德温娜似乎认为您可能知道一些——我应该怎么说好呢——您可能掌握着一些关于这位年轻的德斯蒙德•李•沃特利先生的信息，这些信息对我们能有所帮助。”
波洛顿了一下，在心中默默感叹杰斯蒙德先生办事巧妙，他利用莫克姆女士轻易地达到了自己的目的。
“据我所知，这个年轻人的名声不是太好？”他谨慎地开口了。
“是的，他没有好名声，他的名声很差！但萨拉并不在意这个。告诉一个年轻的女孩对方没有好名声永远是毫无任何帮助的，不是吗？这只会刺激她。”
“您说得非常正确。”波洛说。
“在我年轻的时候，”莱西太太继续说，“天哪，这真是非常久以前的事了！我们那时会被警告要小心某些年轻人，但这反而增加了我们对他们的兴趣。我们会想尽办法和他们跳舞，或者跟他们在黑暗的暖房单独相处——”她笑了起来，“这就是为什么我不让贺拉斯做任何他想做的事情。”
“请告诉我，”波洛说，“这件事具体怎么困扰您了？”
“我们的儿子在战争中死了。”莱西太太说，“儿媳在萨拉出生时也过世了。因此，萨拉一直跟我们生活在一起，是我们把她抚养成人的。也许是我们教育她的方式不太正确——我也不知道。我们原本以为应该让她尽可能自由地成长。”
“我想现在是鼓励这么做。”波洛说，“人是无法抵抗时代的潮流的。”
“是的，”莱西太太说，“我也是这么觉得的。而且，显然，现在的女孩们都这样。”
波洛用询问的眼神看着她。
“我想应该这么说，”莱西太太说，“萨拉跟那些所谓的泡咖啡吧的人混在一块儿。她不去跳舞，不出来社交，也不考虑在恰当时机正式加入社交圈之类的事情。相反，她在切尔西附近的河边租了两间让人不快的房间，平时穿一些他们那群人喜欢穿的奇装异服，配黑色或者亮绿色的长筒袜，非常厚的长筒袜——我总觉得那东西看上去很扎腿！而且她还不好好梳洗打扮，披头散发就四处走动。”
“啊，这是很正常的。”波洛说，“现在的时尚正是如此，他们的生活方式就是从中发展而来的。”
“是的，我知道。”莱西太太说，“我不是为了这个而担心。但您看，她现在跟这位德斯蒙德•李•沃特利在一起。这位先生的名声实在是不太体面，他基本是靠有钱的女孩养着。她们似乎为他疯狂。他之前差点娶了霍普家的女孩，但她的家人向法庭申请将她监护了起来还是什么的。当然，贺拉斯也想这么做的，他说为了保护萨拉必须这么做。可是波洛先生，我认为这真的不是一个好办法。我的意思是，他们只需要一起私奔去苏格兰，或者爱尔兰，或者阿根廷，或者其他什么地方结婚，甚至只是同居而不结婚就可以了。虽然这样可能犯了藐视法庭之类的罪名，但最终并不能真正解决问题不是吗？特别是，如果她怀孕了的话，我们只能放弃，允许他们结婚。在我看来，这样的婚姻在之后一两年内就会破灭。然后女孩回到家中，通常一两年后再嫁人安定下来，所嫁之人一般都是善良到极其沉闷的人。对我来说，如果有一个孩子，这一切就更加令人伤心了，因为无论继父为人多么好，由继父抚养与由亲生父亲带大是不同的。我觉得我们应该像我年轻时那样处理这些问题。我的意思是，每个女孩的初恋对象都是个混账。我记得我当时跟一个年轻人陷入了恐怖的热恋之中，他叫——啊，他叫什么来着？——真是神奇，我已经完全无法想起他的教名了！他姓蒂比特，年轻的蒂比特。当然，我父亲基本上禁止他到家里来，但他总是被邀请去参加我参加的舞会，我们会在那儿一起跳舞。有时我们会偷跑去野外坐坐，有时朋友们会安排一些野餐活动让我们一起参加。当然，那是一段非常刺激而有禁忌感的交往，让人非常享受。但我们那时不会——应该说，不会像现在的女孩那么投入。因此，过了一段时间，蒂比特先生就从我的生活中淡去了。您知道吗，当我四年后再次见到他时，甚至惊讶于自己怎么会看上他！他看上去是个如此无聊的年轻人，华而不实，无法进行什么有趣的对话。”
“人们总是认为自己年轻时的时代是最好的。”波洛有些说教意味地说。
“我明白，”莱西太太说，“这样有些烦人对吧？我不能变得烦人。但无论如何，我不愿意萨拉嫁给德斯蒙德•李•沃特利。她真的是一个让人疼爱的女孩。她和来参加圣诞聚会的大卫•韦林曾经是非常要好的朋友，并且彼此喜欢。贺拉斯和我，我们曾经希望他们能在长大之后结婚的。当然，现在她觉得他很无趣，只是一心迷恋着德斯蒙德。”
“夫人，我不太明白”波洛说，“您也邀请了这位德斯蒙德•李•沃特利来参加圣诞聚会，他现在就住在庄园里？”
“是，我邀请了他。”莱西太太说，“贺拉斯满脑子都是如何禁止萨拉见他。当然，在贺拉斯年轻的时候，父亲或者监护人是会带着马鞭在男生宿舍巡楼的！贺拉斯想的都是禁止男生到家里来，禁止女孩见他。我告诉他，这是一种错误的应对态度。‘不，’我说，‘邀请他来参加圣诞家庭聚会吧。’当然，我的丈夫说我疯了！不过我说：‘无论如何，亲爱的，试试看吧。让她在我们的庄园里、在我们家的气氛中见他。我们会对他非常友善而礼貌，也许这样一来，他在她的眼中就不再那么有吸引力了！’”
“夫人，正如别人所说的，我觉得您很有想法，”波洛说，“我认为您的观点是很明智的，比您丈夫明智得多。”
“我希望如此。”莱西太太充满疑虑地说，“但这方法看起来还没有起到什么作用。当然，他才到这里几天。”她满是皱纹的脸颊上突然浮起了两个酒窝，“波洛先生，我得向您坦白，我自己都不由自主地喜欢上他了。我并不是说我真心地喜欢他，而是说我能理解和感受到他的魅力。是的，我能看到萨拉被吸引的地方。不过我已经够老了，纵然享受他的陪伴，还是能通过足够的经验判断出他绝对不是好人。不过我觉得，”莱西太太用有些欣赏的语气补充道，“他有一些好的地方。您知道吗，他问我们是否可以带他的妹妹一起来。她刚动了手术并且还在住院，他说让她一个人住在疗养院里度过圣诞节太凄惨了。他问我们，如果带妹妹一起来会不会太麻烦我们了，他还说他会自己照顾她。就这点而言，我倒觉得他是个挺好的人，波洛先生，您觉得呢？”
“这行为很贴心。”波洛沉思道，“几乎不像他的风格。”
“我不知道。你可以对家人很有感情，但同时整天琢磨着如何捕获年轻富有的女孩。萨拉非常有钱，不仅仅是我们留给她的——当然，那不会很多，因为大部分的钱将传给我们的孙子科林。萨拉的母亲是位很富有的女性，在萨拉二十一岁时她将继承母亲所有的财产。她现在才二十岁。我觉得德斯蒙德挂念着妹妹这点很善良，而且他并没有假装他的妹妹是如何特别的人。我听说他妹妹是一位速记员，在伦敦做秘书。而他也如自己承诺的那样亲自为她送饭。当然，不是每餐如此，但经常这么做。因此，我觉得他是有一些优点的。但无论如何，”莱西太太坚决地说，“我不希望萨拉嫁给他。”
“根据我所听闻的和您刚刚告诉我的，”波洛说，“跟他结婚确实将是场灾难。”
“您有什么办法帮助我们吗？”莱西太太问。
“我想可以，我有可能做到。”赫尔克里•波洛说，“不过我不能保证什么。夫人，这位德斯蒙德•李•沃特利先生很聪明。不过不要绝望，有些事情还是有可能做到的。无论如何我将竭尽全力，以此感谢您如此好意地邀请我来这里庆祝圣诞。”他看了看周围，“如今已经不太容易能有圣诞庆祝活动了。”
“确实如此。”莱西太太叹了口气，她向前倾了倾身子，“波洛先生，您知道我的梦想是什么吗——我真正想要拥有的东西？”
“洗耳恭听。”
“我渴望有一个小而现代的平房。可能不一定要是平房，一间小巧、现代又容易打理的房子就好了，建在庄园里的某个地方。它要有一个绝对最新式的厨房，不需要长长的走廊，所有的一切都简单易用。”
“夫人，这是一个很实际的想法。”
“对我来说并不实际。”莱西太太说，“我丈夫热爱这个地方。他喜欢住在这里，他不介意有些不太舒适或不方便。他就是讨厌住在庄园里的现代化小房子中。”
“所以，您牺牲了自己的心愿来满足他？”
莱西太太重新坐直了身子。“我不认为这是牺牲，波洛先生。”她说，“我嫁给我的丈夫是希望能让他开心。他是个好丈夫，这些年让我很开心，我也希望能为他带来快乐。”
“因此，您会继续住在这里吗？”波洛说。
“这里并没有非常不舒适。”莱西太太说。
“当然，当然，”波洛连忙说，“正好相反，这里无比舒适。您的中央供暖系统和洗澡水简直完美极了。”
“我们花了很多钱来装修这个别墅，让它变得适宜居住。”莱西太太说，“我们卖了一些土地，我想这叫作为发展做准备。我们很幸运，在别墅视野之外、庄园的另外一头，有一块没有风景并且不怎么漂亮的地。我们将它卖了个不错的价钱，因此能够对别墅进行一些改造。”
“但仆人的问题怎么办呢？”
“啊，这方面可能比您想象的要容易解决。当然，现在我们不能指望像过去那样被人全天候地照顾着。但村里许多人会来帮忙。早上有两位女士来家里收拾，中午由另外两位来帮忙煮饭和洗餐具，晚上会是其他不同的人来。很多村民想每天来工作几个小时。当然，圣诞节期间我们很幸运。我亲爱的罗斯太太每个圣诞节都来帮忙。她是个很棒的厨师，真的是一流的。她大约十年前退休了，但一有紧急状况就会回来帮忙。当然，还有亲爱的佩维里尔。”
“您的管家？”
“是的。他领了退休金退休了，住在门房附近的屋子里。但他实在太热爱他的工作了，坚持一定要在圣诞节回来帮我们。真的，波洛先生，我都有些害怕，因为他年纪很大了，手抖得厉害，我觉得他如果需要搬什么重物的话一定会把它们砸碎。看到他这样其实挺让人焦虑的。而且他的心脏也不太好，我担心他是做太多事情了。但是如果我拒绝让他来，他会很受伤。他每次回来看到我们银器的状态，都会哼哼唧唧地表示不满，然后三天内，所有银器又回到了最好的状态，闪闪发亮。是的，他是一个亲爱的忠诚的朋友。”
她对波洛微笑了一下。“所以您看，我们为一个愉快的圣诞节做好了一切准备。这个圣诞节应该还会是个白色圣诞节。”她看了看窗外加了一句，“您看，开始下雪了。啊，孩子们要进屋来了。波洛先生，您一定要见见他们。”
波洛被异常隆重地介绍给了孩子们。首先是还是学生的外孙科林和他的朋友迈克，两个十五岁的年轻小伙子，他们友善而礼貌，一位头发是深色的，一位则是金发。其次是他们的表妹布里奇特，一位也十五岁左右、充满活力的黑发姑娘。
“这位是我的孙女，萨拉。”莱西太太介绍道。
波洛饶有兴趣地打量着萨拉，一位有着蓬松的红发，挺有魅力的女孩。她的态度显得有些粗暴，并带有小小的叛逆，但她明显对祖母有很深的感情。
“这一位是李•沃特利先生。”
李•沃特利先生穿着一件套头毛衣和一条紧身黑色牛仔裤。他的头发有些长，同时看起来早上可能没有刮胡子。跟他完全不同的是一位叫大卫•韦林的年轻人，他看上去安静可靠，脸上带着令人愉快的笑容，并且显然比李•沃特利先生更喜欢使用肥皂和清水。这组年轻人中还有一名成员，是一位长相帅气、看起来很热情的女孩，她叫戴安娜•米德尔顿。
下午茶准备好了，有司康饼、薄煎饼、三明治和三种蛋糕，都制作得十分用心。年轻人们对它们赞赏了一番。莱西上校最后一个走了进来，用不太确定的语气问道：“是下午茶上了吗？啊，是的，可以吃下午茶了。”
他从太太手中接过一杯茶，拿了两块司康饼，厌恶地看了一眼德斯蒙德•李•沃特利，然后尽可能远离他坐了下来。莱西上校是个大块头，眉毛浓密，有着一张饱经风霜且泛红的脸。他更可能被当作农夫而非庄园的领主。
“开始下雪了。”他说，“今年将是个白色圣诞节。”
下午茶结束后，大家各自散去。
“我想他们要去玩录音机了。”莱西太太对波洛说，宠爱地看着外孙们离开房间，语气就像人们所说的“孩子们要去玩他们的士兵玩具了”一般。
“他们非常喜欢高科技的东西。”她说，“而且也很擅长。”
然而，布里奇特和男孩子们决定到湖边走走，去看看湖上的冰是否结实到可以滑冰。
“今天早上我就觉得可以在那儿滑冰了。”科林说，“但老霍奇金斯说不可以。他总是异常小心。”
“大卫，一起出去走走吧。”戴安娜•米德尔顿柔声说。
大卫迟疑了半分钟。他看着萨拉红色的头发。萨拉站在德斯蒙德•李•沃特利身边，揽着他的胳膊，抬头看着李•沃特利的脸。
“当然。”大卫•韦林说，“我们走吧。”
戴安娜迅速地挽住他的胳膊，他们一起走进了花园。萨拉说：“德斯蒙德，我们是不是也应该出去走走？房子里很闷。”
“谁还想散步呢？”德斯蒙德说，“我去把我的车开出来，我们一起去斑点野猪酒吧喝杯酒吧。”
萨拉犹豫了一下说：“我们去莱德伯里市场的白色公鹿那儿吧，那里更有趣一些。”
虽然她绝对不会说出来，但萨拉本能地对和德斯蒙德一起去本地的酒吧感到反感。她总觉得，这不是金斯莱西的传统。金斯莱西的女性从来不会经常光顾斑点野猪酒吧。她隐约觉得，去那里的话，老莱西上校和他的妻子会失望的。有什么不可以呢？德斯蒙德•李•沃特利会这么说。有那么一个瞬间，萨拉愤怒地觉得他应该知道为什么！除非必要，没有人会让像祖父和亲爱的老艾玛这样的老人家感到不安。他们真的对她非常好，即使完全不明白为什么她想在切尔西过她现在过的日子，也接受了这一切，让她拥有自己的生活。当然，这都因为有艾玛在，祖父本会无休无止地抱怨的。
萨拉对她祖父的态度没有什么幻想，德斯蒙德能被邀请来金斯莱西不是他的决定。这一切都是因为祖母艾玛，亲爱的艾玛，她一直那么好。
德斯蒙德去拿车的时候，萨拉再一次探头到客厅里。
“我们要去莱德伯里市场了。”她说，“我们想去那儿的白色公鹿喝一杯。”
她的声音中稍微有一丝挑衅的意味，不过莱西太太似乎并没有在意。
“好的，亲爱的。”她说，“我相信这是个好主意。我真高兴看见大卫和戴安娜一起去散步了。我是灵机一动想到邀请戴安娜来的。她才二十二岁，还这么年轻就被留下来，成了寡妇。我真希望她能很快再婚。”
萨拉警惕地看着她：“艾玛，你在计划着什么？”
“我有我自己的小计划。”莱西太太愉快地说，“我觉得她很合适大卫。当然，亲爱的萨拉，我知道他疯狂地爱着你，但你对他没有兴趣，我也意识到他不是你喜欢的类型。但我不想让他继续这么不开心下去，我觉得戴安娜真的适合他。”
“艾玛，你成天想着做媒。”萨拉说。
“我知道。”莱西太太说，“上了年纪的女人都是如此。我想戴安娜对他很有兴趣，你不认为他们很合适吗？”
“我不觉得。”萨拉说，“我认为戴安娜太——好吧，太过紧张和严肃了。我觉得大卫和她结婚会觉得很无聊的。”
“好吧，我们到时候看看吧。”莱西太太说，“反正你不想要他，对吧，亲爱的？”
“是的，我不想。”萨拉迅速地回答，然后突兀地问了一句，“你是真的喜欢德斯蒙德的吧，艾玛？”
“我相信他是个好人。”莱西太太说。
“爷爷不喜欢他。”萨拉说。
“你该不会指望他喜欢你的小伙子吧？”莱西太太笃定地说，“但我敢说，当他习惯了现状之后会转变想法的。亲爱的，你不能逼他。老人家改变想法是很慢的，何况你的爷爷还很顽固。”
“我不在乎爷爷想什么或者说什么。”萨拉说，“我想嫁给德斯蒙德时就会嫁给他。”
“我知道，亲爱的，我知道。但是，试着在这件事情上现实点。你爷爷可能会制造很多麻烦，你知道的。你也还没到结婚的年龄。再过一年，你就可以做你想做的事情了。我相信贺拉斯在那之前会回心转意的。”
“你是站在我这一边的，对吧，奶奶？”萨拉说，然后搂住祖母，给了她一个深情的吻。
“我希望你快乐。”莱西太太说，“啊，你的年轻人把车取来了。你知道，我喜欢现在这些年轻人穿的紧身裤，看起来很利落——只是也使得外八字腿特别明显。”
是的，萨拉想着，德斯蒙德是有点外八字，她之前从来没有注意到过……“去吧，亲爱的，玩得开心。”莱西太太说。
莱西太太看着萨拉走到车边，然后想起了她的外国客人。她一路走到书房看了看，赫尔克里•波洛正在小憩。她笑了笑，穿过大堂走到厨房，跟罗斯太太商议晚饭去了。
“快点儿，美女。”德斯蒙德说，“你的家人不会是接受不了你去酒吧吧？这里真是太落后于时代了。”
“他们才没有那么大惊小怪。”萨拉坐进车里，高声说道。
“那个外国佬为什么在这儿？他是个侦探，对吧？这里有什么好侦查的？”
“哦，他不是出于工作原因来这里的。”萨拉说，“埃德温娜•莫克姆，我的外婆让我们邀请他的。我想他已经退休很久了。”
“听上去像匹已经快不行的老马。”德斯蒙德说。
“我相信，他是想见识一下传统的英国圣诞节。”萨拉含糊地说。
德斯蒙德轻蔑地大笑起来。“那些东西都是垃圾。”他说，“我都不知道你怎么能受得了。”
萨拉的红发在身后飘动，她抬起了好斗的下巴。
“我很享受！”她挑衅地说。
“宝贝，这是不可能的。让我们明天就了结这里的事情，一起去斯卡布罗或者其他什么地方吧。”
“我不可能这么做。”
“为什么不。”
“这样会伤害他们的感情。”
“哦，胡说八道！你一向不喜欢这些幼稚矫情的废话。”
“好吧，可能不是真的这样，但——”萨拉打住了。她羞愧地意识到她本来是很期待庆祝圣诞节的。她从心里享受着圣诞节所有的一切，却羞于向德斯蒙德承认。这不是因为享受圣诞和家庭生活有什么问题，而是因为她有那么一刻打心底里希望德斯蒙德不会在圣诞期间来金斯莱西。事实上她几乎希望德斯蒙德永远不要来，在伦敦见他比在家里见他有趣多了。
就在这个时候，布里奇特和男孩子们正从湖边走回来，热烈地讨论着关于滑冰的问题。小颗的雪粒不断地飘落，只要你抬头看看天空，就不难预测不久后将有一场大雪。
“今晚会下一整晚雪。”科林说，“我跟你们打赌，到了圣诞节当天早上，会有几米厚的积雪。”
这样的预言让人神往。
“我们来堆雪人吧。”迈克说。
“天哪。”科林说，“自从——嗯，自从大概四岁之后，我就没堆过雪人了。”
“我觉得堆雪人不是件很容易的事。”布里奇特说，“我的意思是，你得知道怎么堆。”
“我们可以堆一个波洛。”科林说，“给它安一个大胡子。梳妆盒里面就有一个。”
“我真想不明白，波洛怎么可能是一个侦探呢。”迈克想了想说，“我无法想象他要怎样易容。”
“我懂你的意思。”布里奇特说，“我也很难想象他拿着个显微镜到处跑，寻找线索或者测量足迹的样子。”
“我有个想法。”科林说，“让我们为他演场戏吧！”
“一场戏？你是什么意思？”布里奇特问。
“嗯，为他安排一场谋杀。”
“这是个好主意。”布里奇特说，“你是指雪中的尸体，这类的东西吧？”
“是的。这会让他觉得宾至如归，对吧！”
布里奇特咯咯地笑了起来。
“我不知道这样会不会玩得太过分了。”
“如果下雪的话，”科林说，“我们就有一个完美的舞台了。一具尸体和脚印——我们必须认真地计划一下，偷一把外公的匕首，再搞些血。”
他们停下了脚步，无视越下越大的雪，展开了激烈的讨论。
“旧教室里面有颜料盒，我们可以调一些血。我想应该是玫红色的。”
“我觉得玫红色有点太粉了，”布里奇特说，“应该更棕一点。”
“谁来演尸体？”迈克问。
“我来。”布里奇特立刻答道。
“听着，”科林说，“这主意是我想到的。”
“不不不，”布里奇特说，“必须是我，必须是一具女尸，这样才刺激。美丽的少女毫无生气地躺在皑皑白雪中。”
“美丽的少女！呵呵。”迈克嘲讽道。
“我还是黑发。”布里奇特说。
“跟这个有什么关系？”
“在雪中看起来效果会非常好。我应该穿上我红色的睡衣。”
“如果你穿着红色的睡衣，就看不出血迹了。”迈克的想法很现实。
“但它在雪中会被反衬得特别显眼。”布里奇特说，“我的睡衣有白色镶边，血可以滴在那上面。这样简直太棒了！你们觉得他会被骗到吗？”
“如果我们做得足够好的话，他会的。”迈克说，“我们要让雪上只有你的脚印，还有另外一行脚印走到尸体边上再离开。当然，必须是男性的。他不会想破坏现场的，所以无法发觉你没有真的死。你们认为——”迈克停了一下，有个突如其来的想法如当头一棒击中了他。其他人都看着他，他又开口道：“你们认为他会因此生气吗？”
“哦，我认为不会。”布里奇特语调轻松而乐观地说，“我相信他会理解我们只是想让他开心。类似于圣诞礼物。”
“我觉得我们不应该在圣诞节这么做。”科林思考了一下说，“我不认为外公会很喜欢这个想法。”
“那就节礼日 [6] 吧。”布里奇特说。
“节礼日感觉就对了。”迈克说。
“这样我们也有更多的时间。”布里奇特接着说，“毕竟有很多东西需要安排。让我们去看看有什么道具。”
他们匆忙地走回别墅。
注释：
[1]即摄氏二十度。
[2]英国传统圣诞布丁也称葡萄干布丁，是一种包含了干果的布丁。习俗会在布丁中放一些象征性的小物品（例如戒指、银质硬币等），搅拌煮熟之后点缀上冬青草浇以白兰地，点燃后再隆重地端上餐桌。
[3]福特纳姆和梅森（Fortnum＆Mason）是英国伦敦的著名食品商店，以茶叶和甜点最为出名。
[4]克拉里奇酒店是一家坐落在伦敦的老牌著名五星级酒店。
[5]莱西太太名叫艾米琳，艾玛为昵称。
[6]节礼日是英国与大多英联邦国家在十二月二十六日（圣诞节翌日）庆祝的公众假期。
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING（3）
III
The evening was a busy one. Holly and mistletoe had been brought in in large quantities and aChristmas tree had been set up at one end of the dining-room. Everyone helped to decorate it, toput up the branches of holly behind pictures and to hang mistletoe in a convenient position in thehall.
"I had no idea anything so archaic still went on," murmured Desmond to Sarah with a sneer.
"We've always done it," said Sarah, defensively.
"What a reason!"
"Oh, don't be tiresome, Desmond. I think it's fun.""Sarah my sweet, you can't!"
"Well, not not really perhaps but I do in a way.""Who's going to brave the snow and go to midnight mass?" asked Mrs Lacey at twenty minutes totwelve.
"Not me," said Desmond. "Come on, Sarah."
With a hand on her arm he guided her into the library and went over to the record case.
"There are limits, darling," said Desmond. "Midnight mass!""Yes," said Sarah. "Oh yes."
With a good deal of laughter, donning of coats and stamping of feet, most of the others got off.
The two boys, Bridget, David and Diana set out for the ten minutes' walk to the church through thefalling snow. Their laughter died away in the distance.
"Midnight mass!" said Colonel Lacey, snorting. "Never went to midnight mass in my young days.
Mass, indeed! Popish, that is! Oh, I beg your pardon, M. Poirot."Poirot waved a hand. "It is quite all right. Do not mind me.""Matins is good enough for anybody, I should say," said the colonel. "Proper Sunday morningservice. 'Hark the herald angels sing,' and all the good old Christmas hymns. And then back toChristmas dinner. That's right, isn't it, Em?""Yes, dear," said Mrs Lacey. "That's what we do. But the young ones enjoy the midnight service.
And it's nice, really, that they want to go.""Sarah and that fellow don't want to go."
"Well, there dear, I think you're wrong," said Mrs Lacey. "Sarah, you know, did want to go, butshe didn't like to say so."
"Beats me why she cares what that fellow's opinion is.""She's very young, really," said Mrs Lacey placidly. "Are you going to bed, M. Poirot? Goodnight. I hope you'll sleep well."
"And you, Madame? Are you not going to bed yet?""Not just yet," said Mrs Lacey. "I've got the stockings to fill, you see. Oh, I know they're allpractically grown up, but they do like their stockings. One puts jokes in them! Silly little things.
But it all makes for a lot of fun."
"You work very hard to make this a happy house at Christmas time," said Poirot. "I honour you."He raised her hand to his lips in a courtly fashion.
"Hm," grunted Colonel Lacey, as Poirot departed. "Flowery sort of fellow. Still he appreciatesyou."
Mrs Lacey dimpled up at him. "Have you noticed, Horace, that I'm standing under the mistletoe?"she asked with the demureness of a girl of nineteen.
Hercule Poirot entered his bedroom. It was a large room well provided with radiators. As he wentover toward the big four-poster bed he noticed an envelope lying on his pillow. He opened it anddrew out a piece of paper. On it was a shakily printed message in capital letters.
"DON'T EAT NONE OF THE PLUM PUDDING. ONE AS WISHES YOU WELL."Hercule Poirot stared at it. His eyebrows rose. "Cryptic," he murmured, "and most unexpected."
雪地上的女尸（3）
3这是个忙碌的夜晚。屋子里摆着大量的冬青和槲寄生，餐厅的尽头立着一株圣诞树。
大家都在忙，有的在装饰圣诞树，有的在画像后面插冬青，有的在大堂里合适的位置挂槲寄生。
“我都不知道还有人做这么古老的事情。”德斯蒙德冷笑着跟萨拉低语道。
“我们每年都这么做。”萨拉驳斥。
“真是个好理由！”
“哦，别这么烦人了德斯蒙德，我觉得挺好玩的。”
“萨拉亲爱的，你不是这么想的吧！”
“好吧，可能不是，但——从某种角度说，我是觉得挺有趣的。”
“谁准备穿过大雪去参加午夜弥撒？”莱西太太在十一点四十分时发问。
“我不去。”德斯蒙德说，“走吧，萨拉。”
他拽着萨拉的胳膊把她拉到书房，走到唱片盒边。
“亲爱的，事情总要有个限度吧。”德斯蒙德说，“午夜弥撒！”
“是啊。”萨拉说，“是的。”
剩下的大部分人穿上衣服有说有笑地出去了。两个男孩、布里奇特、大卫和戴安娜都顶着大雪，朝着约十分钟步行距离的教堂出发了。
“午夜弥撒！”莱西上校哼哼道，“我年轻的时候从来没参加过午夜弥撒。弥撒，真是的！那是天主教的玩意儿！哦，对不起，波洛先生。”
波洛摇了摇手。“没关系的，不用在意我。”
“要我说，对任何人而言，晨祷就已经足够了。”上校说，“得体的周日晨聚，‘倾听传令天使的歌唱’，以及其他美好的传统圣诞赞美诗，然后回家吃圣诞大餐。这才是正道，艾玛你说对吗？”
“是的，亲爱的，”莱西太太说，“我们是这么做的。但是年轻人们喜欢午夜的布道。他们自己想去，这是件好事，真的。”
“萨拉和那家伙就不想去。”
“哦亲爱的，我想你错了。”莱西太太说，“要知道，萨拉是想去的，但她不想说出来。”
“你说她为什么要在乎那个家伙的意见？”
“她还非常年轻。”莱西太太沉稳地说，“波洛先生，您要去休息了吗？晚安，祝您睡个安稳觉。”
“夫人您呢？还不去休息吗？”
“暂时还不行。”莱西太太说，“您看，我还要去把长筒袜都装满。我知道孩子们都已经长大了，但他们还是喜爱他们的长筒袜。确实有人笑话它们！愚蠢的小玩意儿，但能带来很多欢乐。”
“您真是非常努力地让家人过个愉快的圣诞。”波洛说，“我向您致敬。”
他温文尔雅地抬起太太的手，吻了一下手背。
“呵，”莱西上校在波洛走后咕哝了一声，“浮夸的家伙。不过他很欣赏你。”
莱西太太笑着看着他。“你发现了吗贺拉斯，我正站在槲寄生 [1] 下面。”她正经得像一个十九岁少女。
赫尔克里•波洛走进了他的卧室，一间宽敞且暖气良好的房间。当他向宽大的四柱床走去时，注意到枕头上放着一封信。他拆开信封抽出里面的信纸，看到上面全是大写字母，笔迹歪歪扭扭，写着：
不要吃圣诞布丁。来自一个希望您一切安好的人。
赫尔克里•波洛盯着信，抬了抬眉毛。
“真是神秘。”他自言自语道，“而且完全出乎意料。”
注释：
[1]去亲吻站在槲寄生下的女孩是圣诞节的习俗。
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING（4）
IV
Christmas dinner took place at 2 p.m. and was a feast indeed. Enormous logs crackled merrily inthe wide fireplace and above their crackling rose the babel of many tongues talking together.
Oyster soup had been consumed, two enormous turkeys had come and gone, mere carcasses oftheir former selves. Now, the supreme moment, the Christmas pudding was brought in, in state!
Old Peverell, his hands and his knees shaking with the weakness of eighty years, permitted no onebut himself to bear it in. Mrs Lacey sat, her hands pressed together in nervous apprehension. OneChristmas, she felt sure, Peverell would fall down dead. Having either to take the risk of lettinghim fall down dead or of hurting his feelings to such an extent that he would probably prefer to bedead than alive, she had so far chosen the former alternative. On a silver dish the Christmaspudding reposed in its glory. A large football of a pudding, a piece of holly stuck in it like atriumphant flag and glorious flames of blue and red rising round it. There was a cheer and cries of"Ooh-ah."
One thing Mrs Lacey had done: prevailed upon Peverell to place the pudding in front of her so thatshe could help it rather than hand it in turn round the table. She breathed a sigh of relief as it wasdeposited safely in front of her. Rapidly the plates were passed round, flames still licking theportions.
"Wish, M. Poirot," cried Bridget. "Wish before the flame goes. Quick, Gran darling, quick."Mrs Lacey leant back with a sigh of satisfaction. Operation Pudding had been a success. In frontof everyone was a helping with flames still licking. There was a momentary silence all round thetable as everyone wished hard.
There was nobody to notice the rather curious expression on the face of M. Poirot as he surveyedthe portion of pudding on his plate. "Don't eat none of the plum pudding." What on earth did thatsinister warning mean? There could be nothing different about his portion of plum pudding fromthat of everyone else! Sighing as he admitted himself baffled - and Hercule Poirot never liked toadmit himself baffled - he picked up his spoon and fork.
"Hard sauce, M. Poirot?"
Poirot helped himself appreciatively to hard sauce.
"Swiped my best brandy again, eh, Em?" said the colonel good-humouredly from the other end ofthe table. Mrs Lacey twinkled at him.
"Mrs Ross insists on having the best brandy, dear," she said. "She says it makes all the difference.""Well, well," said Colonel Lacey, "Christmas comes but once a year and Mrs Ross is a greatwoman. A great woman and a great cook."
"She is indeed," said Colin. "Smashing plum pudding, this. Mmmm." He filled an appreciativemouth.
Gently, almost gingerly, Hercule Poirot attacked his portion of pudding. He ate a mouthful. It wasdelicious! He ate another. Something tinkled faintly on his plate. He investigated with a fork.
Bridget, on his left, came to his aid.
"You've got something, M. Poirot," she said. "I wonder what it is."Poirot detached a little silver object from the surrounding raisins that clung to it.
"Oooh," said Bridget, "it's the bachelor's button! M. Poirot's got the bachelor's button!"Hercule Poirot dipped the small silver button into the finger-glass of water that stood by his plate,and washed it clear of pudding crumbs.
"It is very pretty," he observed.
"That means you're going to be a bachelor, M. Poirot," explained Colin helpfully.
"That is to be expected," said Poirot gravely. "I have been a bachelor for many long years and it isunlikely that I shall change that status now.""Oh, never say die," said Michael. "I saw in the paper that someone of ninety-five married a girl oftwenty-two the other day."
"You encourage me," said Hercule Poirot.
Colonel Lacey uttered a sudden exclamation. His face became purple and his hand went to hismouth.
"Confound it, Emmeline," he roared, "why on earth do you let the cook put glass in the pudding?""Glass!" cried Mrs Lacey, astonished.
Colonel Lacey withdrew the offending substance from his mouth. "Might have broken a tooth," hegrumbled. "Or swallowed the damn' thing and had appendicitis."He dropped the piece of glass into the finger-bowl, rinsed it and held it up.
"God bless my soul," he ejaculated, "It's a red stone out of one of the cracker brooches." He held italoft.
"You permit?"
Very deftly M. Poirot stretched across his neighbour, took it from Colonel Lacey's fingers andexamined it attentively. As the squire had said, it was an enormous red stone the colour of a ruby.
The light gleamed from its facets as he turned it about. Somewhere around the table a chair waspushed sharply back and then drawn in again.
"Phew!" cried Michael. "How wizard it would be if it was real.""Perhaps it is real," said Bridget hopefully.
"Oh, don't be an ass, Bridget. Why a ruby of that size would be worth thousands and thousands ofpounds. Wouldn't it, M. Poirot?"
"It would indeed," said Poirot.
"But what I can't understand," said Mrs Lacey, "is how it got into the pudding.""Oooh," said Colin, diverted by his last mouthful, "I've got the pig. It isn't fair."Bridget chanted immediately, "Colin's got the pig! Colin's got the pig! Colin is the greedy guzzlingpig!"
"I've got the ring," said Diana in a clear, high voice.
"Good for you, Diana. You'll be married first, of us all.""I've got the thimble," wailed Bridget.
"Bridget's going to be an old maid," chanted the two boys. "Yah, Bridget's going to be an oldmaid."
"Who's got the money?" demanded David. "There's a real ten shilling piece, gold, in this pudding.
I know. Mrs Ross told me so."
"I think I'm the lucky one," said Desmond Lee-Wortley.
Colonel Lacey's two next door neighbours heard him mutter, "Yes, you would be.""I've got a ring, too," said David. He looked across at Diana. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it?"The laughter went on. Nobody noticed that M. Poirot carelessly, as though thinking of somethingelse, had dropped the red stone into his pocket.
Mince-pies and Christmas dessert followed the pudding. The older members of the party thenretired for a welcome siesta before the tea-time ceremony of the lighting of the Christmas tree.
Hercule Poirot, however, did not take a siesta. Instead, he made his way to the enormous old-fashioned kitchen.
"It is permitted," he asked, looking round and beaming, "that I congratulate the cook on thismarvellous meal that I have just eaten?"
There was a moment's pause and then Mrs Ross came forward in a stately manner to meet him.
She was a large woman, nobly built with all the dignity of a stage duchess. Two lean grey-hairedwomen were beyond in the scullery washing up and a tow-haired girl was moving to and frobetween the scullery and the kitchen. But these were obviously mere myrmidons. Mrs Ross wasthe queen of the kitchen quarters.
"I am glad to hear you enjoyed it, sir," she said graciously.
"Enjoyed it!" cried Hercule Poirot. With an extravagant foreign gesture he raised his hand to hislips, kissed it, and wafted the kiss to the ceiling. "But you are a genius, Mrs Ross! A genius! Neverhave I tasted such a wonderful meal. The oyster soup..." he made an expressive noise with his lips.
"- and the stuffing. The chestnut stuffing in the turkey, that was quite unique in my experience.""Well, it's funny that you should say that, sir," said Mrs Ross graciously. "It's a very special recipe,that stuffing. It was given me by an Austrian chef that I worked with many years ago. But all therest," she added, "is just good, plain English cooking.""And is there anything better?" demanded Hercule Poirot.
"Well, it's nice of you to say so, sir. Of course, you being a foreign gentleman might havepreferred the continental style. Not but what I can't manage continental dishes too.""I am sure, Mrs Ross, you could manage anything! But you must know that English cooking -good English cooking, not the cooking one gets in the second-class hotels or the restaurants - ismuch appreciated by gourmets on the continent, and I believe I am correct in saying that a specialexpedition was made to London in the early eighteen hundreds, and a report sent back to France ofthe wonders of the English puddings. 'We have nothing like that in France,' they wrote. 'It is worthmaking a journey to London just to taste the varieties and excellencies of the English puddings.'
And above all puddings," continued Poirot, well launched now on a kind of rhapsody, "is theChristmas plum pudding, such as we have eaten today. That was a homemade pudding, was it not?
Not a bought one?"
"Yes, indeed, sir. Of my own making and my own recipe such as I've made for many, many years.
When I came here Mrs Lacey said that she'd ordered a pudding from a London store to save methe trouble. But no, Madam, I said, that may be kind of you but no bought pudding from a storecan equal a homemade Christmas one. Mind you," said Mrs Ross, warming to her subject like theartist she was, "it was made too soon before the day. A good Christmas pudding should be madesome weeks before and allowed to wait. The longer they're kept, within reason, the better they are.
I mind now that when I was a child and we went to church every Sunday, we'd start listening forthe collect that begins 'Stir up O Lord we beseech thee' because that collect was the signal, as itwere, that the puddings should be made that week. And so they always were. We had the collecton the Sunday, and that week sure enough my mother would make the Christmas puddings. Andso it should have been here this year. As it was, that pudding was only made three days ago, theday before you arrived, sir. However, I kept to the old custom. Everyone in the house had to comeout into the kitchen and have a stir and make a wish. That's an old custom, sir, and I've alwaysheld to it."
"Most interesting," said Hercule Poirot. "Most interesting. And so everyone came out into thekitchen?"
"Yes, sir. The young gentlemen, Miss Bridget and the London gentleman who's staying here, andhis sister and Mr David and Miss Diana - Mrs Middleton, I should say... All had a stir, they did.""How many puddings did you make? Is this the only one?""No, sir, I made four. Two large ones and two smaller ones. The other large one I planned to serveon New Year's Day and the smaller ones were for Colonel and Mrs Lacey when they're alone likeand not so many in the family."
"I see, I see," said Poirot.
"As a matter of fact, sir," said Mrs Lacey, "it was the wrong pudding you had for lunch today.""The wrong pudding?" Poirot frowned. "How is that?""Well, sir, we have a big Christmas mould. A china mould with a pattern of holly and mistletoe ontop and we always have the Christmas Day pudding boiled in that. But there was a mostunfortunate accident. This morning, when Annie was getting it down from the shelf in the larder,she slipped and dropped it and it broke. Well, sir, naturally I couldn't serve that, could I? Theremight have been splinters in it. So we had to use the other one - the New Year's Day one, whichwas in a plain bowl. It makes a nice round but it's not so decorative as the Christmas mould.
Really, where we'll get another mould like that I don't know. They don't make things in that sizenowadays. All tiddly bits of things. Why, you can't even buy a breakfast dish that'll take a propereight to ten eggs and bacon. Ah, things aren't what they were.""No, indeed," said Poirot. "But today that is not so. This Christmas Day has been like theChristmas Days of old, is that not true?"
Mrs Ross sighed. "Well, I'm glad you say so, sir, but of course I haven't the help now that I used tohave. Not skilled help, that is. The girls nowadays..." she lowered her voice slightly," they meanvery well and they're very willing but they've not been trained, sir, if you understand what Imean."
"Times change, yes," said Hercule Poirot. "I too find it sad sometimes.""This house, sir," said Mrs Ross, "it's too large, you know, for the mistress and the colonel. Themistress, she knows that. Living in a corner of it as they do, it's not the same thing at all. It onlycomes alive, as you might say, at Christmas time when all the family come.""It is the first time, I think, that Mr Lee-Wortley and his sister have been here?""Yes, sir." A note of slight reserve crept into Mrs Ross's voice. "A very nice gentleman he is but,well - it seems a funny friend for Miss Sarah to have, according to our ideas. But there - Londonways are different! It's sad that his sister's so poorly. Had an operation, she had. She seemed allright the first day she was here, but that very day, after we'd been stirring the puddings, she wastook bad again and she's been in bed ever since. Got up too soon after her operation, I expect. Ah,doctors nowadays, they have you out of hospital before you can hardly stand on your feet. Why,my very own nephew's wife..." And Mrs Ross went into a long and spirited tale of hospitaltreatment as accorded to her relations, comparing it unfavourably with the consideration that hadbeen lavished upon them in older times.
Poirot duly commiserated with her. "It remains," he said, "to thank you for this exquisite andsumptuous meal. You permit a little acknowledgment of my appreciation?"A crisp five pound note passed from his hand into that of Mrs Ross who said perfunctorily:
"You really shouldn't do that, sir."
"I insist. I insist."
"Well, it's very kind of you indeed, sir." Mrs Ross accepted the tribute as no more than her due.
"And I wish you, sir, a very happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year."
雪地上的女尸（4）
4圣诞大餐在下午两点开始，是个货真价实的宴席。粗重的木头在宽大的壁炉里噼里啪啦愉快地燃烧着，一桌人七嘴八舌，说话声不绝于耳。牡蛎汤喝完了，两只巨型火鸡被端上来，旋即又只剩下骨架被撤了下去。重要时刻来临了，圣诞布丁被郑重地端上了桌。年高八旬的老佩维里尔坚持用他颤抖的手亲自端着圣诞布丁。莱西太太坐在那儿，双手合十，显得十分紧张。她很肯定，总有一年圣诞节，佩维里尔会摔倒然后死去。在让他摔死还是让他失望之间，莱西太太暂时还是选择了前者。气派的圣诞布丁摆在一只银盘上，足球大的布丁上插着的冬青枝，如一面胜利的旗帜，周围的蓝红色火焰炫目地跳跃着，大家不由得“哇”地欢呼了起来。
莱西太太做了一件事，她说服佩维里尔将布丁放在她面前，而不是由他端着在餐桌上传一轮。这样，她可以帮忙切分给大家。布丁终于安全地放到了莱西太太面前，她松了口气。很快，被火焰舔舐的布丁被分到碟子里递到众人的手中。
“许个愿吧，波洛先生。”布里奇特喊道，“在火还没有熄灭前许愿。快，亲爱的外公外婆，快。”
莱西太太靠在椅背上，满意地舒了口气。圣诞布丁的安排非常成功。每个人面前的布丁上都有火焰仍在燃烧。餐桌上瞬间安静了下来，所有人都在认真地许愿。
没有人注意到波洛脸上好奇的表情。他正在研究他盘子中的那块布丁。“不要吃圣诞布丁”，这个不祥的警告到底意味着什么？他分到的那份布丁和其他人的不可能有什么区别！
他叹了口气，承认自己受到了挫败——赫尔克里•波洛从来不乐意承认自己的挫败。他拿起了刀叉。
“波洛先生，您要点黄油甜酱 [1] 吗？”
波洛心怀感谢，拿了点黄油甜酱。
“艾玛，你又偷了我最好的白兰地？”坐在桌子另一端的上校半开玩笑地问道。莱西太太对他眨了眨眼。
“亲爱的，罗斯太太坚持要用最好的白兰地。”她说，“她说这是最关键的。”
“好吧、好吧。”莱西上校说，“圣诞节一年才一次，而罗斯太太是个伟大的女人。一个好女人，同时是个好厨师。”
“能做出如此出色的圣诞布丁，她一定很了不起，嗯。”科林赞赏地又吃了一口。
温柔地，近乎小心翼翼地，赫尔克里•波洛挖了一块他的布丁。他吃了一大口，真是太好吃了！于是他又吃了一口。盘子里有什么东西发出了微弱的声响，他用叉子探试了一下。坐在他左边的布里奇特来帮他。
“你的布丁里有东西，波洛先生。”她说，“会是什么呢？”
波洛在一堆葡萄干中发现了一个小小的银色物体。
“哦，”布里奇特说，“是单身汉纽扣！波洛先生吃到单身汉纽扣了！”
赫尔克里•波洛将小小的银纽扣放到盘子边的洗手杯中，将上面黏着的布丁碎屑洗干净。
“真好看。”他看着纽扣说。
“这意味着你将成为一名单身汉，波洛先生。”科林帮忙解释道。
“我猜也是如此。”波洛故作认真地说，“我已经单身非常长时间了，现在看上去也不太像会有改变。”
“哦，不要这么说。”迈克说，“我那天在报纸上看到有人九十五岁娶了个二十二岁的女孩。”
“谢谢你的鼓励。”赫尔克里•波洛说。
莱西上校突然喊了起来，他的脸涨成了紫色，手抠着自己的嘴巴。
“该死的，艾米琳。”他大叫道，“你为什么让厨师在布丁里放玻璃？”
“玻璃！”莱西太太也震惊地叫了起来。
莱西上校把异物从口中取了出来。“可能会断颗牙，”他嘟囔道，“或者吞了这该死的东西之后得阑尾炎。”
他把玻璃片丢到了洗手杯中洗了一下，拿了起来。
“我的天哪。”他又惊呼了一声，“这是胸针上的那种红色石头。”他把它高高地举了起来。
“你确定？”
波洛的手非常灵巧地穿过邻座们，拿过莱西上校手中的东西，认真地检查了一下。正如那位老爷所说，这是一块硕大的红色石头，泛着红宝石的光泽，转动时表面闪着微光。
桌上的某人猛地把椅子拉开，之后又推了回去。
“啧啧。要是它是真的，得有多诡异啊。”迈克说。
“也许它是真的。”布里奇特充满希望地说。
“哦，别傻了，布里奇特。这种大小的红宝石一颗得值好多好多钱呢。对吧，波洛先生？”
“是的。”波洛说。
“可是我不明白，”莱西太太说，“它是怎么混进布丁里的？”
“唔，”科林试图开口说话，结果被他刚刚咽下去的一大口食物给干扰了一下，“我吃到了猪肉，这不公平。”
布里奇特立刻唱了起来。“科林吃到了猪肉，科林吃到了猪肉，科林是一只贪婪暴食的猪！”
“我吃到了戒指。”戴安娜尖声说道。
“恭喜你，戴安娜。你将会是我们中第一个结婚的。”
“我吃到了顶针。”布里奇特哀叹了一声。
“布里奇特将会变成老处女。”两个男孩唱了起来，“耶，布里奇特将会变成老处女。”
“谁吃到了钱？”大卫问道，“罗斯太太告诉我，这个布丁里有一枚真正的金的十先令。”
“我想，我是那个幸运儿。”德斯蒙德•李•沃特利说。
莱西上校左右两边的人听到了，嘟囔道：“是的，你是。”
“我也吃到了一枚戒指，”大卫说，他看着戴安娜，“真巧，不是吗？”
笑声在继续，没有人注意到波洛似乎在思考着什么其他的事情，之后一不小心，将红色的石头放进了自己的口袋。
肉馅饼和圣诞甜点在布丁之后上桌了。老人们在庆祝圣诞树点灯的下午茶时间开始之前先去午休了。赫尔克里•波洛却没有去休息，他走进了宽敞老派的厨房。
“我能否来恭喜一下刚刚做出一桌无比美味的大餐的厨师？”他环视四周，笑着问道。
罗斯太太愣了一下，接着以一种庄重的态度向他问候。她是位魁梧的女性，如同舞台上的女爵一样长得高贵而体面。两位略微驼背的灰发妇女在后面的碗碟洗涤室里清洗餐具，一个亚麻色头发的女孩在洗涤室和厨房间穿梭。不过她们显然都只是随从，罗斯太太才是统治厨房的女王。
“很高兴您喜欢，先生。”她优雅地说。
“我太享受了！”赫尔克里•波洛大声说。他以一种异常夸张的外国人的姿态亲吻了罗斯太太的手，又向天花板抛了一个吻。“罗斯太太，您是一个天才！天才！我从来没有吃过如此美妙的食物。那牡蛎汤——”他发出了一个表示美味的吮吸声音，“还有火鸡中的填充料。火鸡中的栗子对我来说是一次独特的体验。”
“您这么说真有趣，先生。”罗斯太太优雅地说，“填充馅料是个独特的配方。许多年前，一个跟我一起工作的澳大利亚厨师教我的。不过剩下的，”她补充道，“只是美味的普通英国料理而已。”
“这世界上还有什么更美味的食物吗？”赫尔克里•波洛问道。
“先生，我真感谢您这么说。当然，作为一位外国来的绅士，可能您会更喜欢欧洲大陆的风味，但我不太会做欧洲的食物。”
“罗斯太太，我确定您能做到任何事情！不过您一定知道，欧洲大陆的美食家是很欣赏英国料理的。当然，是好的英国料理，而不是那些二流酒店或者餐馆做的东西。我相信是在十八世纪初，有一支特殊的探险队来到伦敦，他们送回法国的报告里充满了对英国布丁的兴趣。‘我们法国没有任何类似的东西。’他们写道，‘仅是品尝品种繁多又无比美味的英国布丁这一项，就值得大家到访伦敦了。’而在一切布丁中，”波洛继续说着，准备为这一番颂扬之辞做个结尾，“第一名就是我们今天吃的圣诞布丁了。那是你自己做的吧，对吗？
不是买回来的吧？”
“是的，先生。是我根据用了好几年的独家配方亲手做的。我刚到这儿的时候，莱西太太说她会从伦敦的店里订购一个圣诞布丁，为我减少一些麻烦。但我说，太太，不能这样。感谢您为我着想，但是从店里买来的布丁没有一个比得上自己家里做的。不过我必须要告诉您，”罗斯太太如一位艺术家在谈论自己的作品，“这个布丁做的时间太迟了。一个好的圣诞布丁应该在几周前就做好，放在那儿，放得越久自然也就越好吃。我还记得我小的时候，我们每周日都会去教会。当听到那周的短祷由‘主啊，我们恳求您让您的信徒振奋精神’ [2] 开头时，就知道该开始做圣诞布丁了，这句祷告词是个信号。传统一直是这样的，我们在周日听到这句祷告词，那周我的母亲肯定就会开始制作圣诞布丁。今年我们本应该也这么做的，但事实上圣诞布丁是三天前才做的，在先生您到达的前一天。不过，我还是坚持了以前的传统，让家中的每一个人都到厨房来搅拌了一下布丁，并且许了个愿。先生，这是一个古老的习俗，我总是坚持这么做。”
“真是有趣。”赫尔克里•波洛说，“真是太有趣了。所以，每个人都到厨房来了吗？”
“是的，先生。年轻的小绅士们，布里奇特小姐，以及伦敦来的那位住在这里的先生和他的妹妹，大卫先生和戴安娜小姐——我应该称呼她为米德尔顿太太——他们都来搅拌过圣诞布丁。”
“你做了几个布丁？就这一个吗？”
“不，先生，我做了四个。两个大的两个小的。另一个大布丁我计划在新年那天拿出来，而小的是给上校和太太的，没有那么多客人的时候他们可以吃。”
“我明白了。”波洛说。
“事实上，”罗斯太太说，“你们今天吃的是个错的布丁。”
“错的布丁？”波洛皱起了眉头，“这是怎么回事？”
“是这样的，先生。我们有一个大的圣诞模具，瓷质的，顶端有冬青和槲寄生的图案，总是用来煮圣诞布丁。但一件不幸的意外发生了，今天早上，安妮把它从食品库的架子上拿下来的时候滑了一跤，模具碎了。我自然不能把那个圣诞布丁端上桌了，里面可能有瓷器的碎片，对吧，先生？因此，我们用了新年的那个圣诞布丁。它是放在普通的碗里煮出来的，是个漂亮的圆形，但没有圣诞模具做得那么有装饰性。说真的，我都不知道上哪儿去再买一个模具了。现在都不卖这种尺寸的东西了，所有烹饪用品都很小，你甚至无法买到一个能放八到十个鸡蛋和培根的早餐碟。哎，现在真的跟过去不一样了。”
“确实是不同了。”波洛说，“但今天并非如此，这里的圣诞节还和过去一模一样，不是吗？”
罗斯太太叹了口气说：“我很高兴您这么说，先生。不过，当然，我没有像过去那样的助手了，根本没有有能力的助手。现在的小女孩……”她把音量降低了一些，“她们心是好的，也很乐意帮忙，但没有受过训练。先生，您明白我在说什么吧？”
“是的，时代不同了。”赫尔克里•波洛说，“我有时也觉得这很让人遗憾。”
“这栋别墅对于女主人和上校来说太大了。太太她是明白的。只在其中的一个小角落活动，和整个房子都有人是完全不一样的。如果要说的话，这栋别墅只有在全家人都来过圣诞的时候才能重新焕发生机。”
“我想，这是李•沃特利先生和他妹妹第一次到访？”
“是的，先生。”罗斯太太的口吻显得有所保留，“他是一位对人很好的绅士。不过，该怎么说，在我们看来，作为萨拉小姐的朋友就有些奇怪了。但是他们伦敦人的想法跟我们不一样。我很遗憾他的妹妹身体如此不适。她才动过手术，刚来的第一天看起来还好，但在搅拌了布丁之后她就又不舒服了。从那之后她一直躺在床上，我想应该是因为她在手术后太快下床了。现在的医生们总是在你还站不稳的时候就赶你出院。真是搞不明白，我侄儿的妻子……”之后，罗斯太太颇有激情地讲述了一个关于她的亲戚在医院遭遇的冗长故事，并将冷酷无情的现状与曾经温情的医院作了对比。
波洛恰当地表达了对她所说遭遇的同情。“此外，”他说，“为了感谢您所做的精致而奢华的一餐，请您允许我表达一点点的谢意。”他递上了一张卷起的五镑纸币。
罗斯女士敷衍地说：“先生，您不需要这么做。”
“我坚持，我坚持。”
“好吧，您真是太好了。”罗斯太太收下了钱，以一种这是她应得的态度说道，“我也祝愿您圣诞快乐，新年昌隆。”
注释：
[1]黄油甜酱（Hard sance），一种甜点用酱，由奶油、黄油、糖和朗姆酒、白兰地、威士忌或雪莉酒等原料制成，多用于热甜点。
[2]祷词原文为“Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people”，摘自《公祷书》（Bookof Common Prayer），这段祷词多在唤醒星期日（Stir up Sunday）使用，提醒大家准备圣诞布丁。“Stir up Sunday”是英国国教的一种通俗用法，指降临节主日前的最后一个星期日，此称呼来自这段祷词，“Stir up”也有搅拌的意思。
THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS PUDDING（5）
V
The end of Christmas Day was like the end of most Christmas Days. The tree was lighted, as plendid Christmas cake came in for tea, was greeted with approval but was partaken of only moderately. There was cold supper.
Both Poirot and his host and hostess went to bed early.
"Good night, M. Poirot," said Mrs Lacey. "I hope you've enjoyed yourself.""It has been a wonderful day, Madame, wonderful.""You're looking very thoughtful," said Mrs Lacey.
"It is the English pudding that I consider."
"You found it a little heavy, perhaps?" asked Mrs Lacey delicately.
"No, no, I do not speak gastronomically. I consider its significance.""It's traditional, of course," said Mrs Lacey. "Well, good night, M. Poirot, and don't dream too much of Christmas puddings and mince-pies.""Yes," murmured Poirot to himself as he undressed. "It is a problem certainly, that Christmas plum pudding. There is here something that I do not understand at all." He shook his head in a vexed manner. "Well - we shall see."After making certain preparations, Poirot went to bed, but not to sleep.
It was some two hours later that his patience was rewarded. The door of his bedroom opened very gently. He smiled to himself. It was as he had thought it would be. His mind went back fleetingly to the cup of coffee so politely handed him by Desmond Lee- Wort ley. A little later, whenDesmond's back was turned, he had laid the cup down for a few moments on a table. He had thenapparently picked it up again and Desmond had had the satisfaction, if satisfaction it was, ofseeing him drink the coffee to the last drop. But a little smile lifted Poirot's moustache as hereflected that it was not he but someone else who was sleeping a good sound sleep tonight. "Thatpleasant young David," said Poirot to himself, "he is worried, unhappy. It will do him no harm tohave a night's really sound sleep. And now, let us see what will happen?"He lay quite still, breathing in an even manner with occasionally a suggestion, but the very faintestsuggestion, of a snore.
Someone came up to the bed and bent over him. Then, satisfied, that someone turned away andwent to the dressing- table. By the light of a tiny torch the visitor was examining Poirot'sbelongings neatly arranged on top of the dressing-table. Fingers explored the wallet, gently pulledopen the drawers of the dressing-table, then extended the search to the pockets of Poirot's clothes.
Finally the visitor approached the bed and with great caution slid his hand under the pillow.
Withdrawing his hand, he stood for a moment or two as though uncertain what to do next. Hewalked round the room looking inside ornaments, went into the adjoining bathroom from whencehe presently returned. Then, with a faint exclamation of disgust, he went out of the room.
"Ah," said Poirot, under his breath. "You have disappointment. Yes, yes, a serious disappointment.
Bah! To imagine, even, that Hercule Poirot would hide something where you could find it!" Then,turning over on his other side, he went peacefully to sleep.
He was aroused next morning by an urgent soft tapping on his door.
"Qui est là? Come in, come in."
The door opened. Breathless, red- faced, Colin stood upon the threshold. Behind him stoodMichael.
"Monsieur Poirot, Monsieur Poirot."
"But yes?" Poirot sat up in bed. "It is the early tea? But no. It is you, Colin. What has occurred?"Colin was, for a moment, speechless. He seemed to be under the grip of some strong emotion. Inactual fact it was the sight of the nightcap that Hercule Poirot wore that affected for the momenthis organs of speech. Presently he controlled himself and spoke.
"I think - M. Poirot, could you help us? Something rather awful has happened.""Something has happened? But what?""It's - it's Bridget. She's out there in the snow. I think - she doesn't move or speak and - oh, you'dbetter come and look for yourself. I'm terribly afraid - she may be dead.""What?" Poirot cast aside his bed covers. "Mademoiselle Bridget is dead!""I think - I think somebody's killed her. There's - there's blood and - oh do come!""But certainly. But certainly. I come on the instant."With great practicality Poirot inserted his feet into his outdoor shoes and pulled a fur- linedovercoat over his pyjamas.
"I come," he said. "I come on the moment. You have aroused the house?""No. No, so far I haven't told anyone but you. I thought it would be better. Grandfather and Granaren't up yet. They're laying breakfast downstairs, but I didn't say anything to Peverell. She -Bridget - she's round the other side of the house, near the terrace and the library window.""I see. Lead the way. I will follow."Turning away to hide his delighted grin, Colin led the way downstairs. They went out through theside door. It was a clear morning with the sun not yet high over the horizon. It was not snowingnow, but it had snowed heavily during the night and everywhere around was an unbroken carpet ofthick snow. The world looked very pure and white and beautiful.
"There!" said Colin breathlessly. "I - it's - there!" He pointed dramatically.
The scene was indeed dramatic enough. A few yards away Bridget lay in the snow. She waswearing scarlet pyjamas and a white wool wrap thrown round her shoulders. The white wool wrapwas stained with crimson. Her head was turned aside and hidden by the mass of her outspreadblack hair. One arm was under her body, the other lay flung out, the fingers clenched, and standingup in the centre of the crimson stain was the hilt of a large curved Kurdish knife which ColonelLacey had shown to his guests only the evening before.
"Mon Dieu!" ejaculated M. Poirot. "It is something on the stage!"There was a faint choking noise from Michael. Colin thrust himself quickly into the breach.
"I know," he said. "It - it doesn't seem real somehow, does it? Do you see those footprints - Isuppose we mustn't disturb them?""Ah yes, the footprints. No, we must be careful not to disturb those footprints.""That's what I thought," said Colin. "That's why I wouldn't let anyone go near her until we gotyou. I thought you'd know what to do.""All the same," said Hercule Poirot briskly, "first, we must see if she is still alive? Is not that so?""Well - yes - of course," said Michael, a little doubtfully, "but you see, we thought, I mean, wedidn't like…""Ah, you have the prudence! You have read the detective stories. It is most important that nothingshould be touched and that the body should be left as it is. But we cannot be sure as yet if it is abody, can we? After all, though prudence is admirable, common humanity comes first. We mustthink of the doctor, must we not, before we think of the police?""Oh yes. Of course," said Colin, still a little taken aback.
"We only thought - I mean - we thought we'd better get you before we did anything," said Michaelhastily.
"Then you will both remain here," said Poirot. "I will approach from the other side so as not todisturb these footprints. Such excellent footprints, are they not - so very clear? The footprints of aman and a girl going out together to the place where she lies. And then the man's footsteps comeback but the girl's do not.""They must be the footprints of the murderer," said Colin, with bated breath.
"Exactly," said Poirot. "The footprints of the murderer. A long narrow foot with rather a peculiartype of shoe. Very interesting. Easy, I think, to recognise. Yes, those footprints will be veryimportant."At that moment Desmond Lee-Wortley came out of the house with Sarah and joined them.
"What on earth are you all doing here?" he demanded in a somewhat theatrical manner. "I saw youfrom my bedroom window. What's up? Good lord, what's this? It - it - looks like...""Exactly," said Hercule Poirot. "It looks like murder, does it not?"Sarah gave a gasp, then shot a quick suspicious glance at the two boys.
"You mean someone's killed the girl - what's-her-name - Bridget?" demanded Desmond. "Who onearth would want to kill her? It's unbelievable!""There are many things that are unbelievable," said Poirot. "Especially before breakfast, is it not?
That is what one of your classics says. Six impossible things before breakfast." He added: "Pleasewait here, all of you."Carefully making a circuit, he approached Bridget and bent for a moment down over the body.
Colin and Michael were now both shaking with suppressed laughter. Sarah joined them,murmuring "What have you two been up to?""Good old Bridget," whispered Colin. "Isn't she wonderful? Not a twitch!""I've never seen anything look so dead as Bridget does," whispered Michael.
Hercule Poirot straightened up again.
"This is a terrible thing," he said. His voice held an emotion it had not held before.
Overcome by mirth, Michael and Colin both turned away. In a choked voice Michael said:
"What - what must we do?"
"There is only one thing to do," said Poirot. "We must send for the police. Will one of youtelephone or would you prefer me to do it?""I think," said Colin, "I think - what about it, Michael?""Yes," said Michael, "I think the jig's up now." He stepped forward. For the first time he seemed alittle unsure of himself. "I'm awfully sorry," he said, "I hope you won't mind too much. It - er - itwas a sort of joke for Christmas and all that, you know. We thought we'd well, lay on a murder foryou.""You thought you would lay on a murder for me? Then this - then this...""It's just a show we put on," explained Colin, "to to make you feel at home, you know.""Aha," said Hercule Poirot. "I understand. You make of me the April fool, is that it? But today isnot April the first, it is December the twenty-sixth.""I suppose we oughtn't to have done it really," said Colin, "but but you don't mind very much, doyou, M. Poirot? Come on, Bridget," he called, "get up. You must be half-frozen to death already."The figure in the snow, however, did not stir.
"It is odd," said Hercule Poirot, "she does not seem to hear you." He looked thoughtfully at them.
"It is a joke, you say? You are sure this is a joke?""Why, yes." Colin spoke uncomfortably. "We - we didn't mean any harm.""But why then does Mademoiselle Bridget not get up?""I can't imagine," said Colin.
"Come on, Bridget," said Sarah impatiently. "Don't go on lying there playing the fool.""We really are very sorry, M. Poirot," said Colin apprehensively. "We do really apologise.""You need not apologise," said Poirot, in a peculiar tone.
"What do you mean?" Colin stared at him. He turned again. "Bridget! Bridget! What's the matter?
Why doesn't she get up? Why does she go on lying there?"Poirot beckoned to Desmond. "You, Mr Lee-Wortley. Come here..."Desmond joined him.
"Feel her pulse," said Poirot.
Desmond Lee-Wortley bend down. He touched the arm the wrist.
"There's no pulse..." he stared at Poirot. "Her arm's stiff. Good God, she really is dead!"Poirot nodded. "Yes, she is dead," he said. "Someone has turned the comedy into a tragedy.""Someone - who?""There is a set of footprints going and returning. A set of footprints that bears a strongresemblance to the footprints you have just made, Mr Lee-Wortley, coming from the path to thisspot."Desmond Lee-Wortley wheeled round.
"What on earth... Are you accusing me? Me? You're crazy! Why on earth should I want to kill thegirl?""Ah - why? I wonder... Let us see... "
He bent down and very gently prised open the stiff fingers of the girl's clenched hand.
Desmond drew a sharp breath. He gazed down unbelievingly. In the palm of the dead girl's handwas what appeared to be a large ruby.
"It's that damn' thing out of the pudding!" he cried.
"Is it?" said Poirot. "Are you sure?"
"Of course it is."
With a swift movement Desmond bent down and plucked the red stone out of Bridget's hand.
"You should not do that," said Poirot reproachfully. "Nothing should have been disturbed.""I haven't disturbed the body, have I? But this thing might might get lost and it's evidence. Thegreat thing is to get the police here as soon as possible. I'll go at once and telephone."He wheeled round and ran sharply towards the house. Sarah came swiftly to Poirot's side.
"I don't understand," she whispered. Her face was dead white. "I don't understand." She caught atPoirot's arm. "What did you mean about about the footprints?""Look for yourself, Mademoiselle."The footprints that led to the body and back again were the same as the ones just madeaccompanying Poirot to the girl's body and back.
"You mean - that it was Desmond? Nonsense!"
Suddenly the noise of a car came through the clear air. They wheeled round. They saw the carclearly enough driving at a furious pace down the drive and Sarah recognised what car it was.
"It's Desmond," she said. "It's Desmond's car. He - he must have gone to fetch the police instead oftelephoning."Diana Middleton came running out of the house to join them.
"What's happened?" she cried in a breathless voice. "Desmond just came rushing into the house.
He said something about Bridget being killed and then he rattled the telephone but it was dead. Hecouldn't get any answer. He said the wires must have been cut. He said the only thing was to take acar and go for the police. Why the police...?"Poirot made a gesture.
"Bridget?" Diana stared at him. "But surely - isn't it a joke of some kind? I heard something -something last night. I thought that they were going to play a joke on you, M. Poirot?""Yes," said Poirot, "that was the idea - to play a joke on me. But now come into the house, all ofyou. We shall catch our deaths of cold here and there is nothing to be done until Mr Lee-Wortleyreturns with the police.""But look here," said Colin, "we can't - we can't leave Bridget here alone.""You can do her no good by remaining," said Poirot gently. "Come, it is a sad, a very sad tragedy,but there is nothing we can do any more to help Mademoiselle Bridget. So let us come in and getwarm and have perhaps a cup of tea or of coffee."They followed him obediently into the house. Peverell was just about to strike the gong. If hethought it extraordinary for most of the household to be outside and for Poirot to make anappearance in pyjamas and an overcoat, he displayed no sign of it. Peverell in his old age was stillthe perfect butler. He noticed nothing that he was not asked to notice. They went into the dining-room and sat down. When they all had a cup of coffee in front of them and were sipping it, Poirotspoke.
"I have to recount to you," he said, "a little history. I cannot tell you all the details, no. But I cangive you the main outline. It concerns a young princeling who came to this country. He broughtwith him a famous jewel which he was to have reset for the lady he was going to marry, butunfortunately before that he made friends with a very pretty young lady. This pretty young ladydid not care very much for the man, but she did care for his jewel - so much so that one day shedisappeared with this historic possession which had belonged to his house for generations. So thepoor young man, he is in a quandary, you see. Above all he cannot have a scandal. Impossible togo to the police. Therefore he comes to me, to Hercule Poirot. 'Recover for me,' he says, 'myhistoric ruby.' Eh bien, this young lady, she has a friend and the friend, he has put through severalvery questionable transactions. He has been concerned with blackmail and he has been concernedwith the sale of jewellery abroad. Always he has been very clever. He is suspected, yes, butnothing can be proved. It comes to my knowledge that this very clever gentleman, he is spendingChristmas here in this house. It is important that the pretty young lady, once she has acquired thejewel, should disappear for a while from circulation, so that no pressure can be put upon her, noquestions can be asked her. It is arranged, therefore, that she comes here to Kings Lacey,ostensibly as the sister of the clever gentleman..."Sarah drew a sharp breath.
"Oh, no. Oh, no, not here! Not with me here!""But so it is," said Poirot. "And by a little manipulation I, too, become a guest here for Christmas.
This young lady, she is supposed to have just come out of hospital. She is much better when shearrives here. But then comes the news that I, too, arrive, a detective a well-known detective. Atonce she has what you call the wind up. She hides the ruby in the first place she can think of, andthen very quickly she has a relapse and takes to her bed again. She does not want that I should seeher, for doubtless I have a photograph and I shall recognise her. It is very boring for her, yes, butshe has to stay in her room and her brother, he brings her up the trays.""And the ruby?" demanded Michael.
"I think," said Poirot, "that at the moment it is mentioned I arrive, the young lady was in thekitchen with the rest of you, all laughing and talking and stirring the Christmas puddings. TheChristmas puddings are put into bowls and the young lady she hides the ruby, pressing it downinto one of the pudding bowls. Not the one that we are going to have on Christmas Day. Oh no,that one she knows is in a special mould. She puts it in the other one, the one that is destined to beeaten on New Year's Day. Before then she will be ready to leave, and when she leaves no doubtthat Christmas pudding will go with her. But see how fate takes a hand. On the very morning ofChristmas Day there is an accident. The Christmas pudding in its fancy mould is dropped on thestone floor and the mould is shattered to pieces. So what can be done? The good Mrs Ross, shetakes the other pudding and sends it in.""Good lord," said Colin, "do you mean that on Christmas Day when Grandfather was eating hispudding that that was a real ruby he'd got in his mouth?""Precisely," said Poirot, "and you can imagine the emotions of Mr Desmond Lee-Wortley when hesaw that. Eh bien, what happens next? The ruby is passed round. I examine it and I manageunobtrusively to slip it in my pocket. In a careless way as though I were not interested. But oneperson at least observes what I have done. When I lie in bed that person searches my room. Hesearches me. He does not find the ruby. Why?""Because," said Michael breathlessly, "you had given it to Bridget. That's what you mean. And sothat's why but I don't understand quite - I mean... Look here, what did happen?"Poirot smiled at him.
"Come now into the library," he said, "and look out of the window and I will show you somethingthat may explain the mystery."He led the way and they followed him.
"Consider once again," said Poirot, "the scene of the crime."He pointed out of the window. A simultaneous gasp broke from the lips of all of them. There wasno body lying on the snow, no trace of the tragedy seemed to remain except a mass of scuffledsnow.
"It wasn't all a dream, was it?" said Colin faintly. "I - has someone taken the body away?""Ah," said Poirot. "You see? The Mystery of the Disappearing Body." He nodded his head and hiseyes twinkled gently.
"Good lord," cried Michael. "M. Poirot, you are - you haven't - oh, look, he's been having us on allthis time!"Poirot twinkled more than ever.
"It is true, my children, I also have had my little joke. I knew about your little plot, you see, and soI arranged a counterplot of my own. Ah, voilà Mademoiselle Bridget. None the worse, I hope, foryour exposure in the snow? Never should I forgive myself if you attrapped une fluxion depoitrine."Bridget had just come into the room. She was wearing a thick skirt and a woollen sweater. Shewas laughing.
"I sent a tisane to your room," said Poirot severely. "You have drunk it?""One sip was enough!" said Bridget. "I'm all right. Did I do it well, M. Poirot? Goodness, my armhurts still after that tourniquet you made me put on it.""You were splendid, my child," said Poirot. "Splendid. But see, all the others are still in the fog.
Last night I went to Mademoiselle Bridget. I told her that I knew about your little complot and Iasked her if she would act a part for me. She did it very cleverly. She made the footprints with apair of Mr Lee-Wortley's shoes."Sarah said in a harsh voice:
"But what's the point of it all, M. Poirot? What's the point of sending Desmond off to fetch thepolice? They'll be very angry when they find out it's nothing but a hoax."Poirot shook his head gently.
"But I do not think for one moment, Mademoiselle, that Mr Lee-Wortley went to fetch the police,"he said. "Murder is a thing in which Mr Lee-Wortley does not want to be mixed up. He lost hisnerve badly. All he could see was his chance to get the ruby. He snatched that, he pretended thetelephone was out of order and he rushed off in a car on the pretence of fetching the police. I thinkmyself it is the last you will see of him for some time. He has, I understand, his own ways ofgetting out of England. He has his own plane, has he not, Mademoiselle?"Sarah nodded. "Yes," she said. "We were thinking of..." she stopped.
"He wanted you to elope with him that way, did he not? Eh bien, that is a very good way ofsmuggling a jewel out of the country. When you are eloping with a girl, and that fact is publicised,then you will not be suspected of also smuggling a historic jewel out of the country. Oh yes, thatwould have made a very good camouflage.""I don't believe it," said Sarah. "I don't believe a word of it!""Then ask his sister," said Poirot, gently nodding his head over her shoulder. Sarah turned herhead sharply.
A platinum blonde stood in the doorway. She wore a fur coat and was scowling. She was clearlyin a furious temper.
"Sister my foot!" she said, with a short unpleasant laugh. "That swine's no brother of mine! So he'sbeaten it, has he, and left me to carry the can? The whole thing was his idea! He put me up to it!
Said it was money for jam. They'd never prosecute because of the scandal. I could always threatento say that Ali had given me his historic jewel. Des and I were to have shared the swag in Parisand now the swine runs out on me! I'd like to murder him!" She switched abruptly. "The sooner Iget out of here... Can someone telephone for a taxi?""A car is waiting at the front door to take you to the station, Mademoiselle," said Poirot.
"Think of everything, don't you?"
"Most things," said Poirot complacently.
But Poirot was not to get off so easily. When he returned to the dining-room after assisting thespurious Miss Lee-Wortley into the waiting car, Colin was waiting for him.
There was a frown on his boyish face.
"But look here, M. Poirot. What about the ruby? Do you mean to say you've let him get away withit?"Poirot's face fell. He twirled his moustaches. He seemed ill at ease.
"I shall recover it yet," he said weakly. "There are other ways. I shall still...""Well, I do think!" said Michael. "To let that swine get away with the ruby!"Bridget was sharper.
"He's having us on again," she cried. "You are, aren't you, M. Poirot?""Shall we do a final conjuring trick, Mademoiselle? Feel in my left-hand pocket."Bridget thrust her hand in. She drew it out again with a scream of triumph and held aloft a largeruby blinking in crimson splendour.
"You comprehend," explained Poirot, "the one that was clasped in your hand was a paste replica. Ibrought it from London in case it was possible to make a substitution. You understand? We do notwant the scandal. Monsieur Desmond will try and dispose of that ruby in Paris or in Belgium orwherever it is that he has his contacts, and then it will be discovered that the stone is not real!
What could be more excellent? All finishes happily. The scandal is avoided, my princelingreceives his ruby back again, he returns to his country and makes a sober and we hope a happymarriage. All ends well.""Except for me," murmured Sarah under her breath.
She spoke so low that no one heard her but Poirot. He shook his head gently.
"You are in error, Mademoiselle Sarah, in what you say there. You have gained experience. Allexperience is valuable. Ahead of you I prophesy there lies happiness.""That's what you say," said Sarah.
"But look here, M. Poirot," Colin was frowning. "How did you know about the show we weregoing to put on for you?""It is my business to know things," said Hercule Poirot. He twirled his moustache.
"Yes, but I don't see how you could have managed it. Did someone split - did someone come andtell you?""No, no, not that."
"Then how? Tell us how?"
They all chorused, "Yes, tell us how."
"But no," Poirot protested. "But no. If I tell you how I deduced that, you will think nothing of it. Itis like the conjuror who shows how his tricks are done!""Tell us, M. Poirot! Go on. Tell us, tell us!""You really wish that I should solve for you this last mystery?""Yes, go on. Tell us.""Ah, I do not think I can. You will be so disappointed.""Now, come on, M. Poirot, tell us. How did you know?""Well, you see, I was sitting in the library by the window in a chair after tea the other day and Iwas reposing myself. I had been asleep and when I awoke you were discussing your plans justoutside the window close to me, and the window was open at the top.""Is that all?" cried Colin, disgusted. "How simple!""Is it not?" said Hercule Poirot, smiling. "You see? You are disappointed.""Oh well," said Michael, "at any rate we know everything now.""Do we?" murmured Hercule Poirot to himself. "I do not. I, whose business it is to know things."He walked out into the hall, shaking his head a little. For perhaps the twentieth time he drew fromhis pocket a rather dirty piece of paper. "DON'T EAT NONE OF THE PLUM PUDDING. ONEAS WISHES YOU WELL."Hercule Poirot shook his head reflectively. He who could explain everything could not explainthis! Humiliating. Who had written it? Why had it been written? Until he found that out he wouldnever know a moment's peace. Suddenly he came out of his reverie to be aware of a peculiargasping noise. He looked sharply down. On the floor, busy with a dustpan and brush was a tow-headed creature in a flowered overall. She was staring at the paper in his hand with large roundeyes.
"Oh sir," said this apparition. "Oh, sir. Please, sir.""And who may you be, mon enfant?" inquired M. Poirot genially.
"Annie Bates, sir, please sir. I come here to help Mrs Ross. I didn't mean, sir, I didn't mean to todo anything what I shouldn't do. I did mean it well, sir. For your good, I mean."Enlightenment came to Poirot. He held out the dirty piece of paper.
"Did you write that, Annie?"
"I didn't mean any harm, sir. Really I didn't.""Of course you didn't, Annie." He smiled at her. "But tell me about it. Why did you write this?""Well, it was them two, sir. Mr Lee-Wortley and his sister. Not that she was his sister, I'm sure.
None of us thought so! And she wasn't ill a bit. We could all tell that. We thought - we all thought- something queer was going on. I'll tell you straight, sir. I was in her bathroom taking in the cleantowels, and I listened at the door. He was in her room and they were talking together. I heard whatthey said plain as plain. 'This detecive,' he was saying. 'This fellow Poirot who's coming here.
We've got to do something about it. We've got to get him out of the way as soon as possible.' Andthen he says to her in a nasty, sinister sort of way, lowering his voice, 'Where did you put it?' Andshe answered him 'In the pudding.' Oh, sir, my heart gave such a leap I thought it would stopbeating. I thought they meant to poison you in the Christmas pudding. I didn't know what to do!'
Mrs Ross, she wouldn't listen to the likes of me. Then the idea came to me as I'd write you awarning. And I did and I put it on your pillow where you'd find it when you went to bed." Anniepaused breathlessly.
Poirot surveyed her gravely for some minutes.
"You see too many sensational films, I think, Annie," he said at last, "or perhaps it is the televisionthat affects you? But the important thing is that you have the good heart and a certain amount ofingenuity. When I return to London I will send you a present.""Oh thank you, sir. Thank you very much, sir.""What would you like, Annie, as a present?""Anything I like, sir? Could I have anything I like?""Within reason," said Hercule Poirot prudently, "yes.""Oh sir, could I have a vanity box? A real posh slap up vanity box like the one Mr Lee-Wortley'ssister, wot wasn't his sister, had?""Yes," said Poirot, "yes, I think that could be managed.""It is interesting," he mused. "I was in a museum the other day observing some antiquities fromBabylon or one of those places, thousands of years old and among them were cosmetics boxes.
The heart of women does not change."
"Beg your pardon, sir?" said Annie.
"It is nothing," said Poirot, "I reflect. You shall have your vanity box, child.""Oh thank you, sir. Oh thank you very much indeed, sir."Annie departed ecstatically. Poirot looked after her, nodding his head in satisfaction.
"Ah," he said to himself. "And now - I go. There is nothing more to be done here."A pair of arms slipped round his shoulders unexpectedly.
"If you will stand just under the mistletoe..." said Bridget.
Hercule Poirot enjoyed it. He enjoyed it very much. He said to himself that he had had a very goodChristmas.
雪地上的女尸（5）
5
圣诞节以它应有的样子结束了。点亮的圣诞树，与茶一起端上的上好的圣诞蛋糕，众人赞赏，但都只是尝了一下。晚饭是冷餐。
波洛和房子的主人及太太都早早上床休息了。
“晚安，波洛先生。”莱西太太说，“我希望您喜欢在这里度过的时光。”
“今天非常棒，太太，非常棒。”
“您看上去在想什么事情。”莱西太太说。
“英国布丁，这是我在想的。”
“您觉得它口味太重了？”莱西太太小心地问。
“不、不，我不是在说它的口味，我在考虑它的意义。”
“当然，这是传统。”莱西太太说，“那么晚安了，波洛先生，可别做太多关于圣诞布丁和肉馅饼的梦了。”
“当然。”波洛在脱衣时喃喃自语，“圣诞布丁是问题的关键。但有些东西我完全不明白。”他恼怒地摇了摇头，“好吧，再看看吧。”
做了一些睡前准备之后，波洛躺上了床，但并没有睡着。
大约在两个小时以后，他的耐心得到了回报。卧室的门被非常小心地推开了，他偷笑了一下。一切正如他想的那样。他的思绪飞回到德斯蒙德•李•沃特利礼貌地递给他一杯咖啡的时候，德斯蒙德转身时他将杯子放在了桌上。过了一会儿他装作再次拿起咖啡杯的样子，并且看到德斯蒙德满意地看着他喝完了那杯咖啡。当他想到不是他而是另外一个人今晚睡得正香时，微笑爬上了波洛的嘴角。“那个讨人喜欢的大卫，”波洛对自己说，“他忧心忡忡的。好好睡一觉对他没有坏处。现在，让我们看看会发生什么吧。”
他安静地躺着，呼吸均匀，偶尔发出微弱的打鼾声。
有个人走到他的床边俯身看着他，然后满意地转身去了衣帽间。借助一只小手电筒，这位访客检查了整齐地摆放在梳妆台上的波洛的所有物，掏了掏钱包，轻轻地拉开梳妆台的抽屉，之后又检查了一遍波洛衣服的口袋。最终，这位访客极小心地走到床边，把他的手伸到了枕头下。抽回手之后，他在那儿站了一两分钟，似乎不太确定接下来应该做些什么。他在房间里四处查看，开了开家具的门，到隔壁的浴室看了一眼。最后，他轻声地啧了一下，走出了房间。
“哈，”波洛小声嘟囔，“你失望了。当然、当然，非常失望。哼，居然认为赫尔克里•波洛会把东西藏在你能找到的地方！”然后他转了个身，安心地睡去了。
第二天早上，一阵轻而急促的敲门声吵醒了波洛。
“是谁？进来、进来。”
门打开了。脸色通红、气喘吁吁的科林站在门口，迈克站在他的身后。
“波洛先生、波洛先生。”
“怎么了？”波洛从床上坐了起来，“是早茶时间到了吗？看来不是。科林是你啊，发生了什么？”
科林沉默了一会儿，似乎被什么强烈的情感控制着。实际上，是看到了赫尔克里•波洛戴着的睡帽让他瞬间说不出话来。很快，他控制住了自己，开口说道：“波洛先生，我想——您能帮助我们吗？这里发生了一件十分恐怖的事情。”
“发生了什么事？”
“是——是布里奇特。她在雪地里躺着，不动也不说话。我想，哦天哪，您最好自己来看看。我真的很担心——她可能死了。”
“什么？”波洛从被子里跳了起来，“布里奇特小姐死了？”
“我认为——我认为有人杀害了她。那里有——有血迹，哦，您快来吧！”
“当然、当然，我马上就来。”
波洛非常实用主义地套上了他出门穿的鞋子，在睡衣外披了一件有毛皮衬里的大衣。
“我这就来，”他说，“我马上来。你通知其他人了吗？”
“不，除了您我还没有告诉其他人。我认为这样好一些。外公外婆还没有起床。有人在楼下摆早餐，但我还没跟佩维里尔说。布里奇特在房子的另一头，靠近露台和书房的窗户那边。”
“我明白了。带路吧，我跟着你们。”
科林扭过头隐藏他的窃笑，带着波洛一路走下楼，从边门走了出去。太阳刚升上地平线，早晨的空气十分清新。雪已经停了，但昨晚那场大雪让一切都覆盖在白茫茫的雪下，像盖着厚厚的地毯。世界看上去纯洁、雪白而美好。
“在那里！”科林气喘吁吁地说，“在、在那儿！”他戏剧性地指向前方。
整个场景确实非常富有戏剧性。在几码之外，布里奇特躺在雪地上。她穿着猩红色的睡衣，脖子上围着一条白色的羊毛围巾，上面沾着些深红色。她的脸转向一侧，藏在散开的黑发下。一只手压在身下，另一只伸出来握成拳头状。红色的污渍正中竖着库尔德弯刀的刀柄，莱西上校前一天晚上才向宾客们展示过这把刀。
“我的上帝！”波洛高声叫道，“看起来像舞台上的布景一样！”
迈克发出微弱的哽咽声，科林赶紧开了口。
“我知道，”他说，“这看起来不像真的，对吧。您看到那些脚印了吗，我想我们不应该破坏它们，对吧？”
“啊，是的，脚印。是的，我们必须小心，不要破坏这些印迹。”
“我也是这么认为的。”科林说，“这就是为什么我不让任何人靠近她，直接去找您过来。我想您知道应该怎么做。”
“无论如何，”赫尔克里•波洛尖酸地说，“首先，我们必须确定她是不是还活着，不是吗？”
“是的，当然。”迈克有些顾虑地说，“但您看，我们以为——我的意思是，我们不想——”
“啊，你们很谨慎！你们看了侦探小说，知道最重要的是不要动现场的任何东西，将尸体保持原样。但我们还不确定它是不是尸体，不是吗？毕竟，虽然谨慎值得赞赏，人性还是第一位的。我们应该在想到警察之前先想到医生，不是吗？”
“哦，是的。”科林说，语气有些惊讶。
“我们只是认为——我的意思是——我们只是觉得在找您来之前，我们不应该做任何事情。”迈克匆忙说。
“那么你们留在这里，”波洛说，“我从另一边走过去，这样就不会破坏这些足迹了。这脚印太完美了，你们不觉得吗？如此清晰。一名男性与一个女孩一起走到了她现在躺着的地方，然后男性的足迹走了回来，女孩却没有。”
“这一定是凶手的脚印。”科林屏气说道。
“完全正确。”波洛说，“这是凶手的脚印。一双又长又瘦的脚，穿着造型特别的鞋子。
很有趣。我想这很容易辨识。是的，这些脚印很重要。”
这时，德斯蒙德•李•沃特利和萨拉一起从屋里走了出来，加入他们。
“你们究竟在这儿做什么？”德斯蒙德以一种夸张的口吻询问道，“我从我卧室的窗户看到了你们。发生了什么？天哪，那是什么？那看起来像是——”
“正是如此。”赫尔克里•波洛说，“看起来像是谋杀，不是吗？”
萨拉倒吸了一口气，然后怀疑地看了两个男孩一眼。
“你是说有人杀了那个女孩——她叫什么来着——布里奇特？”德斯蒙德问，“谁会想要杀她呢？难以置信！”
“有很多事情难以置信，”波洛说，“尤其是在早餐之前，不是吗？你们的俗语，早餐前的六件不可思议的事情。”他补充道，“请你们全部在这里等着。”
他小心地绕到另一边，靠近布里奇特，弯下身去。科林和迈克都极力憋住笑，身体抖了起来。萨拉走到他们身边，低声道：“你们两个想干什么？”
“好样的，布里奇特。”科林耳语道，“不觉得她很棒吗？甚至没有抽动一下！”
“我还从来没有见过什么东西像布里奇特这么像死人。”迈克低声说。
赫尔克里•波洛站起身来。
“这是个可怕的事件。”他说，声音中带有之前所没有的情绪。
就快憋不住的迈克和科林同时转过身去。迈克断断续续地说：“我们——我们应该做什么？”
“只有一件事可以做了，”波洛说，“我们必须报警。有人愿意去打个电话吗，或者你们希望我去？”
“我想，”科林说，“我想——迈克，怎么办？”
迈克说：“我想玩笑应该结束了。”他往前走了一步，第一次显得有些不太自信。“我真的很抱歉，”他说，“我希望您不要太介意。这是一个圣诞玩笑，仅此而已。我们想为您创造一场谋杀。”
“你们想为我创造一场谋杀？可是这个——这个——”
“这只是我们演的一场戏，”科林解释说，“为了让您感觉宾至如归。”
“啊，”赫尔克里•波洛说，“我懂了。你们跟我开了个愚人节的玩笑是吧？但今天不是四月一日，是十二月二十六日。”
“我们确实不该这么做。”科林说，“可是——可是——您不会很介意吧，波洛先生？布里奇特，够了，”他喊道，“起来吧。你应该已经冻得半死了。”
然而，雪中的女孩一动不动。
“这真是奇怪。”赫尔克里•波洛说，“她看上去听不到你们的声音。”他若有所思地看着他们，“你说这是个玩笑。你确定这是个玩笑？”
“为什么这么问？当然是的，”科林有些不舒服起来，“我们……我们没想做什么坏事。”
“那为什么布里奇特小姐还没有起来呢？”
“我也不知道。”科林说。
“够了吧，布里奇特，”萨拉不耐烦地说，“不要继续躺在那儿当傻瓜了。”
“我们真的很抱歉，波洛先生。”科林担心地说，“我们诚心地道歉。”
“你们不用道歉。”波洛用一种奇特的语调说道。
“您是什么意思？”科林盯着他，然后再次转向布里奇特，“布里奇特！布里奇特！发生了什么？为什么她不起来？为什么她还躺在那儿？”
波洛向德斯蒙德招了招手，道：“李•沃特利先生，请过来一下。”德斯蒙德依言过去了。
“探一下她的脉搏。”波洛说。
德斯蒙德•李•沃特利弯下身，摸了摸布里奇特的手臂和手腕。
“没有脉搏……”他看着波洛，“她的手臂已经僵硬了。天哪，她真的死了！”
波洛点了点头。“是的，她死了。”他说，“有人把一场闹剧变成了悲剧。”
“有人——谁？”
“雪地上有一串来回的脚印，这串脚印和您刚刚从那边走到这里留下的脚印很相似，李•沃特利先生。”
德斯蒙德•李•沃特利转过身去。
“什么意思——你在指控我？我？你疯了！我究竟为什么要杀这个女孩？”
“啊，为什么？我也想知道……让我们看看……”
波洛弯下身去，小心地掰开了女孩紧握着的僵硬的手指。
德斯蒙德倒抽了一口冷气。他难以置信地低头盯着死去的女孩，她手里攥着的似乎是一块硕大的红宝石。
“这是布丁里的那个该死的东西！”他叫道。
“是吗？”波洛说，“你确定？”
“我当然确定。”
德斯蒙德迅速弯下腰，从布里奇特的手中拿走了红色的石头。
“你不应该这么做，”波洛责备道，“不应该破坏现场。”
“我又没有移动尸体不是吗？但这个东西可能——可能会不见，它是证据。最重要的事情是尽快把警察叫来。我现在就去打电话。”
他回身飞快地跑回屋子。萨拉迅速地走到波洛的身边。
“我不明白，”她脸色惨白地低语道，“我不明白。”她抓着波洛的胳膊，“您说脚印……是什么意思？”
“您自己看看吧，女士。”
走到女孩身边又走回去的脚印跟刚刚走到波洛这边看女孩尸体又回去的脚印一模一样。
“您的意思是——那是德斯蒙德的脚印？胡说！”
突然，汽车的噪声打破了清新的空气。众人转身，清楚地看到一辆车以疯狂的速度沿着车道开了出来。萨拉认出了那是谁的车。
“是德斯蒙德，”她说，“那是德斯蒙德的车。他——他一定是没有打电话而是选择直接去找警察来了。”
戴安娜•米德尔顿从房子里跑出来加入了他们。
“发生了什么？”她气喘吁吁地问，“德斯蒙德刚刚跑进屋子里，说什么布里奇特被杀了，他慌乱地拿起电话但没有声音，他说一定是有人把电话线给切断了。他说现在只能开车去叫警察了。为什么要叫警察……”
波洛做了一个手势。
“布里奇特？”戴安娜盯着他，“但是，这肯定是一个玩笑之类的吧？我昨晚听到了一些声音。我以为他们要跟您开一个玩笑。”
“是的。”波洛说，“原本的计划是这样的——跟我开一个玩笑。现在，我们先回到屋子里去吧，所有人。大家会在这儿冻死的。我们现在什么都做不了，只能等李•沃特利先生从警察局回来。”
“但看看这里，”科林说，“我们不能——我们不能就这么把布里奇特一个人留在这儿。”
“你待在这里也不能为她做什么了。”波洛温柔地说，“来吧，这是一个很令人伤心的悲剧，但我们无法再为布里奇特小姐做什么了。都到屋子里去暖和一下，喝点茶或者咖啡。”
他们顺从地跟着他回到了屋子里。佩维里尔正准备鸣钟。即便他觉得家里的大部分人都在屋外，而且波洛穿着睡衣披着大衣的样子非常奇怪，也没有流露出半分。年老的佩维里尔依旧是个完美的管家，没有被吩咐去关注的事情他一概当作没看见。众人走进餐厅坐下，当每人面前都摆着一杯咖啡开始啜饮时，波洛开口了。
他说：“我必须告诉你们一些此事的背景。我不能透露所有的细节，但可以说一个大概。这件事关乎一位年轻的国王，他来到这个国家，带着一件著名的珠宝，打算为即将迎娶的女士重新打造这件珠宝。但不幸的是，在这之前，他和一位非常美貌的年轻女子相识了。这位年轻的女士并不是很在意这个年轻人，但她非常在意他的珠宝，终于有一天，她带着这件在他家族流传了几代的传家之宝消失了。可怜的年轻人进退两难，他绝对不能有丑闻，因此他不能去找警察，于是他找到了我，赫尔克里•波洛。‘帮我找回传家的红宝石吧。’他说。这位年轻女士，她有一位朋友，这个朋友参与了一些非常可疑的活动，比如敲诈和在海外倒卖珠宝的买卖。他一直很聪明，虽被怀疑，但从来没有被抓到。有人告诉我，这位非常聪明的先生即将在这里度过圣诞节。问题是那位女士，得到珠宝之后她就需要消失一段时间，这样大家就无法向她施压，询问珠宝的下落了。因此，她被安排到金斯莱西来，表面上装作是那位聪明先生的妹妹——”
萨拉惊呼了一声。
“哦不，哦不，不是这里！不要跟我说是在这里！”
“但事实正是如此。”波洛说，“我用了一点小小的手段，让自己也成了圣诞节这里的客人。大家以为这位年轻的女士刚刚出院，在这里待了几天后她感觉好多了。但之后一位新客人也来到了这里，一个侦探——一个知名的侦探。于是，如你们所说，她又紧张兮兮的。她把红宝石藏在了能想到的第一个地方，接着假装病情发作，躺回床上去了。她不希望我见到她，因为毋庸置疑，我有她的照片，会认出她来。是的，她必须待在自己的房间里，由她的哥哥给她送食物，虽然这样的日子对她来说一定很无聊。”
“那么红宝石呢？”迈克问。
“我想，”波洛说，“在听说我到达的时候，这位年轻的女士正在厨房里跟你们说笑，搅拌圣诞布丁。圣诞布丁被放进了模具里，而这位年轻的女士也把红宝石藏到了其中一个模具中。不是我们在圣诞节准备吃的那个布丁，当然不是，她知道那个布丁在特殊的模具里。她把红宝石放在了准备在新年吃的布丁里面。她准备在新年之前就离开，而当她离开时，圣诞布丁无疑将跟她一起消失。不过命运作弄了她。圣诞节的早上发生了一件意外，装在华丽的圣诞模具里的布丁掉到了石板地上，模具摔碎了。那么怎么办呢？好心的罗斯太太把另一个布丁拿了出来，送上了餐桌。”
“天哪，”科林说，“你是说圣诞节那天外公吃布丁时吃到的那个，是真的红宝石？”
“正是如此。”波洛说，“你们可以想象德斯蒙德•李•沃特利先生看到那颗红宝石时的心情。好了，之后发生了什么呢？红宝石被四处传看，我检查了一下它，然后装作若无其事地把它收到了我的口袋里。不过有一个人注意到我做了什么。当我躺在床上睡觉时，他到我的房间搜了一遍，甚至搜查了我。但他没有发现红宝石，为什么呢？”
“因为，”迈克喘着粗气说，“你把宝石给了布里奇特，你是这个意思吧。所以就是为什么——但我不太明白——我的意思是——到底发生了什么？”
波洛对他微笑了一下。
“现在到书房来吧。”他说，“看看窗外，我将向你们展示一些东西，或许可以解开疑惑。”
波洛带路，大家跟着他来到了书房。
“再认真看一次犯罪现场。”波洛说。
他指向窗外，所有人同时吸了一口气。没有尸体躺在雪中，除了被踩乱的雪，没有任何发生过悲剧的痕迹。
“这一切不是做梦吧。”科林软弱无力地说，“我是说——有人把尸体搬走了？”
“哈，”波洛说，“你明白了吗？消失的尸体之谜。”他点着头，温柔地眨了眨眼。
“天哪，”迈克说，“波洛先生，你——你不会——哦，快看那儿！他从头到尾都骗倒了我们。”
波洛的眼睛闪着光。
“是的，我的孩子们，我也开了一个小玩笑。我事先就知道你们的小骗局了，所以在你们的骗局中又策划了一个骗局。哦，布里奇特小姐，我希望除了让您躺在雪中之外，没有发生更糟糕的事情吧？如果您得了肺炎，我是不会原谅自己的。”
布里奇特此刻走进了房间。她穿着一条厚裙子和一件羊毛套头衫。她大笑着。
“我送了一些花草茶到你的房间，”波洛严厉地说，“你喝了吗？”
“哦，喝一点就够了！”布里奇特说，“我没事的。我完成得怎么样，波洛先生？天哪，您让我戴的那个压脉器弄得我的胳膊到现在还在疼。”
“你实在太棒了，我的孩子。”波洛说，“太棒了。不过你看，其他人都还很困惑。是这样的，我昨晚找了布里奇特小姐，告诉她我知道你们的小阴谋了，问她是否能为我也表演一部分。她做得很聪明，用李•沃特利先生的鞋子伪造了脚印。”
萨拉尖声说道：“但这一切是为了什么呢，波洛先生？把德斯蒙德派去找警察又是为了什么？警察发现自己被愚弄了会很生气的。”
波洛温和地摇了摇头。
“我可不认为李•沃特利先生会去找警察，小姐。”他说，“他不想掺和到谋杀里来，他被吓坏了。他所看到只是拿到红宝石的机会。他抢了宝石，假装电话坏了，冲出去要去找警察，其实开着车跑了。我想短时间内你不会再见到他了。据我所知，他有离开英国的方法。他有自己的飞机，不是吗，小姐？”
萨拉点了点头。“是的。”她说，“我们本来计划着——”她打住了。
“他计划让你跟他用这种方式私奔，对吗？确实，这是一种很好的走私珠宝的方法。当你跟一个女孩私奔，而这事众所周知时，你就不会同时被怀疑将传家珠宝走私出境了。是的，私奔是个很好的幌子。”
“我不相信这一切。”萨拉说，“我一个字都不相信！”
“那么，问问他的妹妹吧。”波洛说，用下巴示意站在后面的一个人。萨拉猛地转过了头。
一位淡金发女子站在门口。她穿着一件毛皮大衣，绷着脸，显然正在发火。
“妹妹个鬼！”她说，令人不悦地冷笑了一声，“那个下流的家伙根本不是我哥哥！他拿了好处，让我来担当罪名？整件事是他的主意！是他让我这么做的！他说这一切轻而易举，因为他们害怕有丑闻所以不会报警，我也完全可以说阿里是自己把传家之宝送给我的。本来我要和那个卑鄙的家伙在巴黎分赃的，结果他现在丢下我跑了！我真想杀了他！
等我离开这儿——”她突然换了个话题，“有人能帮我叫辆出租车吗？”
“有一辆车正在门口等着送您去车站呢，女士。”波洛说。
“你想好了所有的事情，是吧。”
“绝大部分。”波洛得意地说。
但是，波洛并没有这么容易就逃脱。当他帮助假冒的李•沃特利小姐坐上等在门口的车子后回到餐厅时，发现科林正等着他。
他那张孩子气的脸上愁眉不展。
“但是波洛先生，红宝石呢？可别说你让他拿着红宝石跑了。”
波洛的脸色沉了下来。他捻了捻胡子，看上去有些不安。
“我会把它找回来的。”他不太有把握地说，“还是有其他的方法，我还是有可能——”
“哦，我就知道！”迈克说，“那个卑鄙的混蛋拿着红宝石就这么跑了！”
布里奇特比较敏锐。
“他又一次骗了我们。”她高声道，“是吧，波洛先生？”
“让我们进行最后一个魔术表演吧，小姐。摸摸我左边的口袋。”
布里奇特把手伸了进去。再把手抽出来时高举着一颗闪烁着深红色光芒的红宝石，她发出了胜利的尖叫。
“你看出来了，”波洛解释说，“之前我让你紧紧握住的那颗，是玻璃仿制品，是我从伦敦带来的，以防万一需要的时候用来调包的。你们明白吧？我们不希望出现任何丑闻。德斯蒙德先生会试图在巴黎或者比利时或者其他有联系人的地方处理那颗红宝石，到时他将会发现那块石头不是真的！还有什么结果比这更让人兴奋呢？所有事情都有个好结局。丑闻避免了，王储找回了他的红宝石，他清醒过来，回到自己的国家，我们祝福他拥有一个愉快的婚姻。所有一切都很完美。”
“除了我。”萨拉喃喃道。
她的声音很小，除了波洛没有人听到。波洛温和地摇了摇头。
“你错了，萨拉小姐。您在这段经历中得到了经验，所有的经验都是宝贵的。我预言，一定有幸福在将来等着您。”
“这不过是你说的。”萨拉说。
“但是，波洛先生，”科林皱着眉头道，“您怎么会知道那是我们跟您开的玩笑呢？”
“我的工作就是要知道各种各样的事情。”波洛捻着他的小胡子说道。
“我懂。但我不明白的是，您是怎么做到的。是有人说漏嘴了吗？有人来找您，跟您说了我们的计划吗？”
“不、不，不是那样的。”
“那您是怎么做到的？告诉我们！”
其他人纷纷应声道：“请告诉我们！”
“不行。”波洛抗议道，“如果我告诉你们我是如何推理出来的，你们会觉得平淡无奇。
这就像魔术师向别人泄露魔术的秘密一样。”
“告诉我们吧，波洛先生！快，告诉我们吧！”
“你们真的希望我解开这最后一个秘密？”
“是的，请告诉我们吧。”
“啊，我不认为应该这么做。你们会很失望的。”
“别这样，波洛先生，告诉我们。您是如何知道的？”
“好吧，是这样的。那天喝完下午茶，我坐在书房窗边的椅子上休息。睡了一会儿醒来的时候，刚好听到你们站在窗外讨论你们的计划，当时最上面的那扇窗是开着的。”
“就这样？”科林懊恼地叫了起来，“这么简单！”
“看吧，”赫尔克里•波洛微笑着说，“你看，你们失望了。”
“好吧，”迈克说，“不管怎么说，现在我们知道所有的真相了。”
“是吗？”赫尔克里•波洛自言自语道，“我还没有。而我的工作是要知道所有的事情。”
他走进门厅，微微摇了摇头，大概是第二十次从口袋里掏出那张有些弄脏了的纸片。
“不要吃圣诞布丁。来自一个希望你一切安好的人。”
赫尔克里•波洛若有所思地摇了摇头。他这样一个能解释所有事情的人却无法解释这张纸条！这真是奇耻大辱。是谁写了这张纸条？为了什么？他不知道真相就不得安宁。突然，一声奇特的喘息让他从沉思中回过神来。他目光锐利地看过去，看到一个浅黄色头发，穿着花罩衫，正拿着簸箕和扫帚忙碌的人，此人双眼圆睁，盯着波洛手上的纸片。
“哦，先生，”人影说，“哦先生，请不要责怪我，先生。”
“请问你是谁，我的孩子？”波洛和蔼地问。
“安妮•贝茨，先生。请不要责怪我，先生。我是来帮罗斯太太的。我不是故意，先生，我不是故意多管闲事的。我是出于好心，先生。我的意思是，为了您好。”
波洛恍然大悟。他拿着那张肮脏的纸片。
“安妮，这是你写的？”
“我不想伤害任何人，先生。真的，我从来没有想过伤害别人。”
“你当然不想，安妮。”他对她笑着说，“但请告诉我，为什么你会写这样一张纸条呢？”
“是因为他们两个人，先生。李•沃特利先生和他的妹妹。我敢肯定她不是他的妹妹，我们没有人相信她是！而且她也没生病，我们都看得出来。我们认为——我们都认为——有什么可疑的事情正在发生。我可以直接告诉您，先生。我在她的梳洗室里更换浴巾时听到了房间里的他和她在谈话。我听到他们在发牢骚。‘那个侦探，’他说，‘那个要来这里的侦探波洛，我们得想办法解决掉他。我们必须要快，让他没法来妨碍我们。’然后他压低声音，用一种卑鄙阴险的口气说：‘你放在哪里了？’她说：‘在布丁里。’哦，先生，我的心跳停了一拍，我都以为它再也不跳了。我认为他们打算在圣诞布丁里下毒害您。我不知道该怎么办！罗斯太太是不会相信我这类下人的话的。我想到可以提醒您。于是我写了这张纸条放在您的枕头上，这样您在上床睡觉的时候就可以看到它了。”安妮屏住气，停止了讲述。
波洛认真地打量了她几分钟。
“我想安妮，你看了太多耸人听闻的电影了。”他终于开口了，“或者是电视节目？不过重要的是你很善良，而且机智。等我回到伦敦之后会送你一份礼物的。”
“哦，谢谢您先生。太感谢了，先生。”
“安妮，你想要什么礼物呢？”
“任何我喜欢的东西都可以吗，先生？我可以要我喜欢的任何东西吗？”
“只要是合理的要求。”赫尔克里•波洛慎重地说，“是的。”
“哦，先生，我能要一个化妆包吗？像李•沃特利先生的妹妹的那个一样——哦，她不是他妹妹——真正时髦的新款包，可以吗？”
“当然，”波洛说，“当然，我想我可以做到。”
“真有趣。”他又沉思道，“之前在博物馆看到一些来自巴比伦或者其他那类地方出土的文物，那是几千年前的东西了，中间就有一些化妆盒。女人的内心几千年来都没有什么变化。”
“您在说什么，先生？”安妮问。
“没什么。”波洛说，“我在反思人性。你会得到你的化妆包的，孩子。”
“哦，谢谢，先生。真是太感谢您了，先生。”
安妮狂喜地离开了。波洛看着她的身影，满意地点了点头。
“啊，”他自言自语道，“现在我可以走了。这里已经没有其他事情需要处理了。”
一双手悄悄地从后面伸了过来，出人意料地抱住了波洛的肩膀。
“如果你能站在槲寄生下面的话——”布里奇特说。
6
赫尔克里•波洛惬意地享受着这一切。他对自己说，他度过了一个非常愉快的圣诞节。