Chapter One
One
M rs. Van Rydock moved a little back from the mirror and sighed.
“Well, that’ll have to do,” she murmured.
“Think it’s all right, Jane?”
Miss Marple eyed the Lanvanelli creation appraisingly.
“It seems to me a very beautiful gown,” she said.
“The gown’s all right,” said Mrs. Van Rydock and sighed.
“Take it off, Stephanie,” she said.
The elderly maid with the grey hair and the small pinched mouth, eased the gown carefully up over Mrs. VanRydock’s up-stretched arms.
Mrs. Van Rydock stood in front of the glass in her peach satin slip. She was exquisitely corseted. Her still shapelylegs were encased in fine nylon stockings. Her face, beneath a layer of cosmetics and constantly toned up by massage,appeared almost girlish at a slight distance. Her hair was less grey than tending to hydrangea blue and was perfectlyset. It was practically impossible when looking at Mrs. Van Rydock, to imagine what she would be like in a naturalstate. Everything that money could do had been done for her—reinforced by diet, massage, and constant exercises.
Ruth Van Rydock looked humorously at her friend.
“Do you think most people would guess, Jane, that you and I are practically the same age?”
Miss Marple responded loyally.
“Not for a moment, I’m sure,” she said reassuringly. “I’m afraid, you know, that I look every minute of my age!”
Miss Marple was white-haired, with a soft pink-and-white wrinkled face and innocent china blue eyes. She lookeda very sweet old lady. Nobody would have called Mrs. Van Rydock a sweet old lady.
“I guess you do, Jane,” said Mrs. Van Rydock. She grinned suddenly, “And so do I. Only not in the same way.
‘Wonderful how that old hag keeps her figure.’ That’s what they say of me. But they know I’m an old hag all right!
And, my God, do I feel like one!”
She dropped heavily onto the satin, quilted chair.
“That’s all right, Stephanie,” she said. “You can go.”
Stephanie gathered up the dress and went out.
“Good old Stephanie,” said Ruth Van Rydock. “She’s been with me for over thirty years now. She’s the onlywoman who knows what I really look like! Jane, I want to talk to you.”
Miss Marple leant forward a little. Her face took on a receptive expression. She looked, somehow, an incongruousfigure in the ornate bedroom of the expensive hotel suite. She was dressed in rather dowdy black, carried a largeshopping bag, and looked every inch a lady.
“I’m worried, Jane. About Carrie Louise.”
“Carrie Louise?” Miss Marple repeated the name musingly. The sound of it took her a long way back.
The pensionnat in Florence. Herself, the pink and white English girl from a Cathedral close. The two Martin girls,Americans, exciting to the English girl because of their quaint ways of speech and their forthright manner and vitality.
Ruth, tall, eager, on top of the world, Carrie Louise, small, dainty, wistful.
“When did you see her last, Jane?”
“Oh! not for many many years. It must be twenty-five at least. Of course, we still send cards at Christmas.”
Such an odd thing, friendship! She, young Jane Marple, and the two Americans. Their ways diverging almost atonce, and yet the old affection persisting; occasional letters, remembrances at Christmas. Strange that Ruth whosehome—or rather homes—had been in America should be the sister whom she had seen the more often of the two. No,perhaps not strange. Like most Americans of her class, Ruth had been cosmopolitan. Every year or two she had comeover to Europe, rushing from London to Paris, on to the Riviera, and back again, and always keen to snatch a fewmoments wherever she was, with her old friends. There had been many meetings like this one. In Claridge’s, or theSavoy, or the Berkeley, or the Dorchester. A recherché meal, affectionate reminiscences, and a hurried andaffectionate good-bye. Ruth had never had time to visit St. Mary Mead. Miss Marple had not, indeed, ever expected it.
Everyone’s life has a tempo. Ruth’s was presto whereas Miss Marple’s was content to be adagio.
So it was American Ruth whom she had seen most of, whereas Carrie Louise who lived in England, she had notnow seen for over twenty years. Odd, but quite natural, because when one lives in the same country there is no need toarrange meetings with old friends. One assumes that, sooner or later, one will see them without contrivance. Only, ifyou move in different spheres, that does not happen. The paths of Jane Marple and Carrie Louise did not cross. It wasas simple as that.
“Why are you worried about Carrie Louise, Ruth?” asked Miss Marple.
“In a way that’s what worries me most! I just don’t know.”
“She’s not ill?”
“She’s very delicate—always has been. I wouldn’t say she’d been any worse than usual—considering that she’sgetting on just as we all are.”
“Unhappy?”
“Oh no.”
No, it wouldn’t be that, thought Miss Marple. It would be difficult to imagine Carrie Louise unhappy—and yetthere were times in her life when she must have been. Only—the picture did not come clearly. Bewildered—yes—incredulous—yes—but violent grief—no.
Mrs. Van Rydock’s words came appositely.
“Carrie Louise,” she said, “has always lived right out of this world. She doesn’t know what it’s like. Maybe it’sthat that worries me.”
“Her circumstances,” began Miss Marple, then stopped, shaking her head. “No,” she said.
“No, it’s she herself,” said Ruth Van Rydock. “Carrie Louise was always the one of us who had ideals. Of course,it was the fashion when we were young to have ideals—we all had them, it was the proper thing for young girls. Youwere going to nurse lepers, Jane, and I was going to be a nun. One gets over all that nonsense. Marriage, I suppose onemight say, knocks it out of one. Still, take it by and large, I haven’t done badly out of marriage.”
Miss Marple thought that Ruth was expressing it mildly. Ruth had been married three times, each time to anextremely wealthy man, and the resultant divorces had increased her bank balance without in the least souring herdisposition.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Van Rydock, “I’ve always been tough. Things don’t get me down. I’ve not expected toomuch of life and certainly not expected too much of men—and I’ve done very well out of it—and no hard feelings.
Tommy and I are still excellent friends, and Julius often asks me my opinion about the market.” Her face darkened. “Ibelieve that’s what worries me about Carrie Louise—she’s always had a tendency, you know, to marry cranks.”
“Cranks?”
“People with ideals. Carrie Louise was always a pushover for ideals. There she was, as pretty as they make them,just seventeen and listening with her eyes as big as saucers to old Gulbrandsen holding forth about his plans for thehuman race. Over fifty, and she married him, a widower with a family of grown-up children—all because of hisphilanthropic ideas. She used to sit listening to him spellbound. Just like Desdemona and Othello. Only fortunatelythere was no Iago about to mess things up — and anyway Gulbrandsen wasn’t coloured. He was a Swede or aNorwegian or something.”
Miss Marple nodded thoughtfully. The name of Gulbrandsen had an international significance. A man who withshrewd business acumen and perfect honesty had built up a fortune so colossal that really philanthropy had been theonly solution to the disposal of it. The name still held significance. The Gulbrandsen Trust, the Gulbrandsen ResearchFellowships, the Gulbrandsen Administrative Almshouses, and best known of all the vast educational College for thesons of working men.
“She didn’t marry him for his money, you know,” said Ruth, “I should have if I’d married him at all. But not CarrieLouise. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t died when she was thirty-two. Thirty-two’s a very niceage for a widow. She’s got experience, but she’s still adaptable.”
The spinster listening to her, nodded gently whilst her mind reviewed, tentatively, widows she had known in thevillage of St. Mary Mead.
“I was really happiest about Carrie Louise when she was married to Johnnie Restarick. Of course, he married herfor her money—or if not exactly that, at any rate he wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t had any. Johnnie was aselfish pleasure-loving lazy hound, but that’s so much safer than a crank. All Johnnie wanted was to live soft. Hewanted Carrie Louise to go to the best dressmakers and have yachts and cars and enjoy herself with him. That kind ofman is so very safe. Give him comfort and luxury and he’ll purr like a cat and be absolutely charming to you. I nevertook that scene designing and theatrical stuff of his very seriously. But Carrie Louise was thrilled by it—saw it all asArt with a capital A and really forced him back into those surroundings and then that dreadful Yugoslavian woman gothold of him and just swept him off with her. He didn’t really want to go. If Carrie Louise had waited and beensensible, he would have come back to her.”
“Did she care very much?” asked Miss Marple.
“That’s the funny thing. I don’t really believe she did. She was absolutely sweet about it all—but then she wouldbe. She is sweet. Quite anxious to divorce him so that he and that creature could get married. And offering to givethose two boys of his by his first marriage a home with her because it would be more settled for them. So there poorJohnnie was—he had to marry the woman and she led him an awful six months and then drove him over a precipice ina car in a fit of rage. They said it was an accident, but I think it was just temper!”
Mrs. Van Rydock paused, took up a mirror and gazed at her face searchingly. She picked up her eyebrow tweezersand pulled out a hair.
“And what does Carrie Louise do next but marry this man Lewis Serrocold. Another crank! Another man withideals! Oh I don’t say he isn’t devoted to her—I think he is—but he’s bitten by that same bug of wanting to improveeverybody’s lives for them. And really, you know, nobody can do that but yourself.”
“I wonder,” said Miss Marple.
“Only, of course, there’s a fashion in these things, just like there is in clothes. (My dear, have you seen whatChristian Dior is trying to make us wear in the way of skirts?) Where was I? Oh yes, fashion. Well, there’s a fashion inphilanthropy too. It used to be education in Gulbrandsen’s day. But that’s out of date now. The State has stepped in.
Everyone expects education as a matter of right—and doesn’t think much of it when they get it! Juvenile delinquency—that’s what is the rage nowadays. All these young criminals and potential criminals. Everyone’s mad about them.
You should see Lewis Serrocold’s eyes sparkle behind those thick glasses of his. Crazy with enthusiasm! One of thosemen of enormous willpower who like living on a banana and a piece of toast and put all their energies into a cause.
And Carrie Louise eats it up—just as she always did. But I don’t like it, Jane. They’ve had meetings of the trusteesand the whole place has been turned over to this new idea. It’s a training establishment now for these juvenilecriminals, complete with psychiatrists and psychologists and all the rest of it. There Lewis and Carrie Louise are,living there, surrounded by these boys—who aren’t perhaps quite normal. And the place stiff with occupationaltherapists and teachers and enthusiasts, half of them quite mad. Cranks, all the lot of them, and my little Carrie Louisein the middle of it all!”
She paused—and stared helplessly at Miss Marple.
Miss Marple said in a faintly puzzled voice:
“But you haven’t told me yet, Ruth, what you are really afraid of.”
“I tell you, I don’t know! And that’s what worries me. I’ve just been down there—for a flying visit. And I felt allalong that there was something wrong. In the atmosphere—in the house—I know I’m not mistaken. I’m sensitive toatmosphere, always have been. Did I ever tell you how I urged Julius to sell out of Amalgamated Cereals before thecrash came? And wasn’t I right? Yes, something is wrong down there. But I don’t know why or what—if it’s thesedreadful young jailbirds—or if it’s nearer home. I can’t say what it is. There’s Lewis just living for his ideas and notnoticing anything else, and Carrie Louise, bless her, never seeing or hearing or thinking anything except what’s alovely sight, or a lovely sound, or a lovely thought. It’s sweet but it isn’t practical. There is such a thing as evil—and Iwant you, Jane, to go down there right away and find out just exactly what’s the matter.”
“Me?” exclaimed Miss Marple. “Why me?”
“Because you’ve got a nose for that sort of thing. You always had. You’ve always been a sweet innocent lookingcreature, Jane, and all the time underneath nothing has ever surprised you, you always believe the worst.”
“The worst is so often true,” murmured Miss Marple.
“Why you have such a poor idea of human nature, I can’t think—living in that sweet peaceful village of yours, soold world and pure.”
“You have never lived in a village, Ruth. The things that go on in a pure peaceful village would probably surpriseyou.”
“Oh I daresay. My point is that they don’t surprise you. So you will go down to Stonygates and find out what’swrong, won’t you?”
“But, Ruth dear, that would be a most difficult thing to do.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I’ve thought it all out. If you won’t be absolutely mad at me, I’ve prepared the ground already.”
Mrs. Van Rydock paused, eyed Miss Marple rather uneasily, lighted a cigarette, and plunged rather nervously intoexplanation.
“You’ll admit, I’m sure, that things have been difficult in this country since the war, for people with small fixedincomes—for people like you, that is to say, Jane.”
“Oh yes, indeed. But for the kindness, the really great kindness of my nephew Raymond, I don’t know really whereI should be.”
“Never mind your nephew,” said Mrs. Van Rydock. “Carrie Louise knows nothing about your nephew—or if shedoes, she knows him as a writer and has no idea that he’s your nephew. The point, as I put it to Carrie Louise, is thatit’s just too bad about dear Jane. Really sometimes hardly enough to eat, and of course far too proud ever to appeal toold friends. One couldn’t, I said, suggest money—but a nice long rest in lovely surroundings, with an old friend andwith plenty of nourishing food, and no cares or worries—” Ruth Van Rydock paused and then added defiantly, “Nowgo on—be mad at me if you want to be.”
Miss Marple opened her china blue eyes in gentle surprise.
“But why should I be mad at you, Ruth? A very ingenious and plausible approach. I’m sure Carrie Louiseresponded.”
“She’s writing to you. You’ll find the letter when you get back. Honestly, Jane, you don’t feel that I’ve taken anunpardonable liberty? You won’t mind—”
She hesitated and Miss Marple put her thoughts deftly into words.
“Going to Stonygates as an object of charity—more or less under false pretences? Not in the least—if it isnecessary. You think it is necessary—and I am inclined to agree with you.”
Mrs. Van Rydock stared at her.
“But why? What have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard anything. It’s just your conviction. You’re not a fanciful woman, Ruth.”
“No, but I haven’t anything definite to go upon.”
“I remember,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully, “one Sunday morning at church—it was the second Sunday inAdvent—sitting behind Grace Lamble and feeling more and more worried about her. Quite sure, you know, thatsomething was wrong—badly wrong—and yet being quite unable to say why. A most disturbing feeling and very,very definite.”
“And was there something wrong?”
“Oh yes. Her father, the old admiral, had been very peculiar for some time, and the very next day he went for herwith the coal hammer, roaring out that she was Antichrist masquerading as his daughter. He nearly killed her. Theytook him away to the asylum and she eventually recovered after months in hospital—but it was a very near thing.”
“And you’d actually had a premonition that day in church?”
“I wouldn’t call it a premonition. It was founded on fact—these things usually are, though one doesn’t alwaysrecognise it at the time. She was wearing her Sunday hat the wrong way round. Very significant, really, because GraceLamble was a most precise woman, not at all vague or absentminded—and the circumstances under which she wouldnot notice which way her hat was put on to go to church were really extremely limited. Her father, you see, hadthrown a marble paperweight at her and it had shattered the looking glass. She had caught up her hat, put it on, andhurried out of the house. Anxious to keep up appearances and for the servants not to hear anything. She put downthese actions, you see, to ‘dear Papa’s Naval temper,’ she didn’t realise that his mind was definitely unhinged. Thoughshe ought to have realised it clearly enough. He was always complaining to her of being spied upon and of enemies—all the usual symptoms, in fact.”
Mrs. Van Rydock gazed respectfully at her friend.
“Maybe, Jane,” she said, “that St. Mary Mead of yours isn’t quite the idyllic retreat that I’ve always imagined it.”
“Human nature, dear, is very much the same everywhere. It is more difficult to observe it closely in a city, that isall.”
“And you’ll go to Stonygates?”
“I’ll go to Stonygates. A little unfair, perhaps, on my nephew Raymond. To let it be thought that he does not assistme, I mean. Still the dear boy is in Mexico for six months. And by that time it should all be over.”
“What should all be over?”
“Carrie Louise’s invitation will hardly be for an indefinite stay. Three weeks, perhaps—a month. That should beample.”
“For you to find out what is wrong?”
“For me to find out what is wrong.”
“My, Jane,” said Mrs. Van Rydock, “you’ve got a lot of confidence in yourself, haven’t you?”
Miss Marple looked faintly reproachful.
“You have confidence in me, Ruth. Or so you say … I can only assure you that I shall endeavour to justify yourconfidence.”
第一章
范•赖多克夫人从镜子前后退了一小步，长出了一口气。
“哎，只能这样了，”她低声道，“简，你觉得还好吗？”
马普尔小姐赞许地看着兰瓦内利设计的这件睡袍。
“非常漂亮。”马普尔小姐说。
“还算过得去吧。”范•赖多克夫人说完又叹了一口气。
“斯蒂芬尼，帮我脱下来。”她说。
一位头发灰白、嘴巴紧抿的老女仆顺着范•赖多克夫人伸起的双臂把睡袍小心翼翼地从她身上脱了下来。
范•赖多克夫人穿着粉红色的绸缎衬裙站在镜子前，衬裙里穿着件紧身胸衣，仍然匀称的双腿上套着双尼龙长袜。她化了妆，加上经常按摩，让她的脸远看上去几乎和年轻姑娘的一样光滑。她的头发呈淡蓝色，发型做得很美。很难想象此时盛装打扮的范•赖多克夫人原本是什么样子的。范•赖多克夫人全身都是用钱堆砌起来的——辅之以节食，按摩和长期的锻炼。
露丝•范•赖多克好奇地看着她的朋友。
“简，别人会觉得我和你的年龄一样大吗？”
马普尔小姐回答得很诚实。
“他们肯定猜不出来。”她确定无疑地说，“老实说，我的长相和年纪相差不大。”
马普尔小姐的头发已经白了，脸色白里透红，有些许皱纹。她的眼珠湛蓝，眼神无辜，俨然一个可爱的老奶奶。但没人会把范•赖多克夫人称为“老奶奶”。
范•赖多克夫人说：“简，你的确老了。”她苦笑了一声又接着说，“其实我也一样。只不过和你老的方式不同罢了。‘那老家伙是怎么保持体形的啊！’别人都这么说我。不过，他们都知道我已经很老了。上帝，我怎么也有这种感觉啊！”
她重重地坐在那把缎面的椅子上。
“斯蒂芬尼，没什么事了，”她说，“你出去吧。”
女仆拾掇好衣服便出去了。
“尽职的斯蒂芬尼，”露丝•范•赖多克夫人说，“她跟了我三十多年，真正了解我的人也只有她了。简，我想和你聊聊。”
马普尔小姐将身体微微前倾，显出乐于倾听的模样。她和这间装饰华丽的套房有些不协调。她穿着一件寒酸的黑色上衣，手里拿着个购物袋，活脱脱一位老妇人。
“简，我有点担心卡莉•路易丝。”
“卡莉•路易丝？”马普尔小姐若有所思地重复了一遍这个名字，这个名字使她回忆起很久以前的事情。
那时她生活在佛罗伦萨的寄宿学校里，还是一个面色红润的英国女孩，来自一个宗教家庭。学校里有一对姓马丁的美国姐妹，两人奇特的说话方式和奔放的性格让马普尔对她们充满了兴趣。露丝个子高，热情洋溢，非常自信；卡莉•路易丝则小巧玲珑，非常美丽，浑身上下透着股机灵劲儿。
“简，你最后一次见她是什么时候的事了？”
“不算很久，但至少也有二十五年了。当然，我们每年圣诞节都互寄贺卡。”
友谊非常玄妙。简•马普尔和两个美国女孩开始就不是一类人，但她们之间的友情却延续了下来；时不时写两封信，圣诞节互致问候。家（或者说几处家）在美国的露丝和她见得更频繁一些。不，这也不足为怪。和大多数这个阶级的美国人一样，露丝是个都市化十足的人，每隔一两年到欧洲玩一趟，穿行于伦敦与巴黎之间。去一次里维埃拉，然后再返回美国。她很乐意抽空与老朋友们聚一聚。类似的相聚已经有许多次了。在克拉里奇、萨伏依、伯克利或多切斯特，她们品尝美味佳肴，互诉昔日友情，最后难分难舍地匆匆道别。但露丝一直没时间去圣玛丽米德村。马普尔小姐也没想让她去。每个人的生活都有自己的节奏。露丝的生活节奏很快，马普尔小姐却喜欢不紧不慢的日子。
马普尔和从美国来访的露丝见过很多次面，但和住在英格兰的卡莉•路易丝却有二十多年没见了。其实这也很好理解，住在同一个国家的朋友没必要刻意安排时间见面，人们总觉得迟早能见上。结果却各忙各的，总也见不了面。更何况简•马普尔和卡莉•路易丝的生活之间没有重合点，见不上面也就不足为奇了。
“露丝，你为什么担心卡莉•路易丝？”马普尔小姐问。
“不知什么原因，我就是非常担心。”
“她没生病吧？”
“她很纤弱——身体一直不太好。但现在应该不会比以往更差，和我们一样，维持着老样子。”
“那她是心情不好吗？”
“哦，当然不是。”
不会是心情不好，马普尔小姐心想。很难想象卡莉•路易丝会不开心——生活中肯定有不高兴的时候，只是马普尔小姐没察觉到而已。也许会有迷茫，也许会有困惑，但卡莉绝不会极度悲伤。
范•赖多克夫人又开腔了。
“卡莉•路易丝总是神游于这个世界之外。”她说，“她不了解这个世界。也许我担心的就是这一点。”
“她的周围，”马普尔小姐刚扯开话头马上又停了下来，摇了摇头，“应该都是些讲求实际的人。”她说。
“我指的是她本人。”露丝•范•赖多克说，“卡莉•路易丝一直是我们当中比较有抱负的一个。理想在我们年轻时是种时尚——我们都很有抱负，这对年轻女孩来说很正常。简，你当时想照看麻风病人，想当个修女。但这种无聊事总是过了就忘。人们都说婚姻会改变一切。大体上讲，我的婚姻还算美满。”
马普尔小姐觉得露丝说得过于轻描淡写。她结过三次婚，每次嫁的都是十分富有的人，每次离异都只是增加了她的银行存款，一点都没影响到她的心情。
“我也很坚强，”范•赖多克夫人说，“不会被生活压垮。我的希望本来就不高，对男人更是没有过高的要求——这点我做得不错——不会放不下哪段感情。我和托米仍然是很好的朋友，朱利叶斯也常问我对市场的看法。”她的脸色突然阴沉下来，“卡莉•路易丝却总爱和怪人结婚，我担心的正是这点。”
“什么怪人？”
“一些有理想的人。路易丝很容易被所谓的理想蒙蔽。十七岁时她瞪大双眼聆听老古尔布兰森谈论他关乎全人类的宏伟计划，然后便和那个五十多岁、有几个已经长大成人的孩子的老头结了婚。她嫁的只是那些慈善家般的想法。她着魔一般听古尔布兰森讲话，两人之间的关系像苔丝狄蒙娜和奥赛罗一样。好在没有伊阿古那种人出来捣蛋——幸亏古尔布兰森不是有色人种，他是瑞典还是挪威人。”
马普尔小姐若有所思地点了点头。古尔布兰森是个外国姓氏。古尔布兰森具有极其敏锐的生意头脑，积累了大量财富。他为人很正直，把钱都通过慈善机构捐掉了。他的名字至今仍然很有影响。古尔布兰森信托公司、古尔布兰森研究基金会、古尔布兰森公立救济院，还有以他名字命名、供工人后代上学的教育学院。
“她不是为了钱才和他结婚的，”露丝说，“如果是我我就会冲着钱去。但卡莉•路易丝不会。如果古尔布兰森没在她三十二岁时去世，真不知道他们会出什么事。对寡妇来说，三十二岁是很好的年龄。她有了处事的经验，也能适应外面的世界。”
单身的马普尔小姐听着露丝的话，不自觉地联想起圣玛丽米德村她认识的几个寡妇，不禁轻轻地点了点头。
“卡莉•路易丝和约翰尼•雷斯塔里克结婚时我非常高兴。当然他看上的只是她的钱而已——如果路易丝没钱，他肯定不会和她结婚。约翰是一个自私自利、喜欢寻欢作乐的大懒虫，但比那些空有理想的神经质要强。他要的不过是享乐。约翰要卡莉•路易丝找最棒的服装设计师，买最好的游艇和汽车，一同享受生活。这种男人很安全，只要给他安逸奢华的生活，他便会对你百依百顺。我从不把约翰的装模作样当回事，但卡莉对此非常生气，觉得他过于奢侈，非要他过穷酸的生活。而后那个可怕的南斯拉夫女人掌控了约翰的心，从卡莉身边抢走了他。他其实不想离开，如果卡莉•路易丝能更理智些，再等一等，也许他就会回来。”
“卡莉对约翰的离开非常介意吗？”马普尔小姐问。
“这正是有意思的地方。我认为她并不十分在意，这反而正合她的心意——她非常开心。卡莉巴不得和约翰离婚，让他和那个野女人结婚。她同意接受约翰第一次婚姻生下的两个儿子，让他们的生活更加稳定。可怜的约翰——他不得不和那个女人结婚，过了半年糟糕透顶的生活。后来两人死于悬崖坠车。人们都说那是场事故，但我认为是那个女人一怒之下把车开下了悬崖！”
范•赖多克夫人停顿了一会儿，拿起一面镜子，仔细端详着自己的脸。然后她拿起眉毛夹，用夹子拔去几根眉毛。
“接着卡莉•路易丝和刘易斯•塞罗科尔德结了婚。刘易斯又是个怪胎。我不是说他不爱她——他爱她——但他也中了邪，要改善每个人的生活。要我说，改善生活还得自己来。”
“我不太了解那个人。”马普尔小姐说。
“和时装一样，慈善也是一股风。（亲爱的，你见过克里斯汀•迪奥倡导女人们都穿裙子时的猴急样吗？）我说到哪儿了？对了，一股风。慈善也是个讲时髦的行当。古尔布兰森的时代流行教育，但现在教育已经过时了。国家会管理教育。所有人都认为受教育是自己的权利——得到时不会太在乎。现在的问题是青少年犯罪，少年犯非常猖狂，到处都是少年犯和潜在的罪犯。所有人都为此忧心忡忡。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德厚镜片后面那对晶亮的大眼显示出他热情而狂躁的本质：他属于不计索取，能把全部精力投入到某项事业的那种人。卡莉•路易丝像年轻时那样情迷于这一点。简，我不喜欢这样。他们喜欢开信托投资会，爱把新思想灌输给别人。他们把那里变成少年犯改造基地，叫了些精神病医生和心理学家过来。刘易斯和卡莉•路易丝就和那些孩子住在一起，这简直太不正常了。那里聚集了治疗师、教师和少年犯，其中一半是疯子。卡莉•路易丝也混在这些人中间，真是太可怜了。”
她停顿了一下，无助地看着马普尔小姐。
“露丝，你究竟在担心些什么？”马普尔小姐困惑地问。
“我不知道！但这正是我所担心的。我只去那儿住了几天，总觉得有什么地方不对劲。
应该是那幢房子——房子里的气氛非常怪异——绝对错不了。我一直对气氛非常敏感。我告诉过你我劝朱利叶斯把联合谷物公司出售，公司脱手后很快就破产了的事吗？我的预感一向很灵。那里肯定有什么地方不对头，但我说不出个所以然——也许来自那些讨厌的少年犯，也许是那种惺惺作态的家庭感。到底是什么我暂且说不上来。刘易斯为他的理想活着，别的什么都不管，卡莉•路易丝则只想看见和听见自己想要的东西。她的想法不错，但太脱离实际了。那里肯定酝酿着什么罪恶的事情。简，希望你马上去看个究竟。”
“我吗？”马普尔小姐嚷道，“为什么让我去？”
“你有探察这种事的天分。简，你看上去和蔼可亲，但任何事都吓不到你，你总能预料到最坏的结果。”
“最坏的情况总会成真。”马普尔小姐低声说。
“我不明白，你对人性的看法为什么那么坏——你住的可是个宁静而淳朴的古老村庄啊！”
“露丝，你没在乡下住过。宁静而淳朴的村庄里发生的事会吓你一大跳。”
“也许吧。既然任何事都不会让你害怕，何不亲自去石门山庄走一趟呢？我想你会去的，是吗？”
“亲爱的露丝，混进去可不容易。”
“不难。我全想好了。如果你不生我的气的话，我想告诉你我已经做了些准备。”
范•赖多克夫人不安地看了马普尔小姐一会儿，点了根烟，然后紧张地继续解释。
“我想你一定赞同，英国战后的日子很艰难，人们的收入都很少——简，尤其是你这样的人。”
“没错。要不是雷蒙德外甥的一片好心，我真不知道该怎么活。”
范•赖多克夫人说：“卡莉•路易丝对你外甥一无所知——即便听说过，也只把他当作家看，根本想不到那是你的外甥。我对卡莉•路易丝说了，简的日子过得非常糟糕。有时连吃的都没有，又高傲得不肯求助于人。我们可以不谈钱，但可以和老朋友一起在优雅的环境里好好待上一阵，无忧无虑地享受营养美味的食物。”露丝•范•赖多克夫人顿了顿，横下心来对马普尔小姐说，“你想发火就朝我发吧。”
马普尔小姐略显惊讶地睁圆了那双蓝色的眼睛。
“露丝，我为什么要冲你发火？这是个切实可行的好办法。卡莉•路易斯一定答复你了吧？”
“她给你写了信，你回去就会收到。简，你不觉得我太自作主张了吗？你不介意……”
她犹豫着要不要往下说，马普尔小姐巧妙地给出了答案。
“你想问我介不介意充当被救助者去趟石门山庄是吗？——当然不介意，如果你觉得有必要，我完全可以走这么一趟。”
范•赖多克夫人吃惊地看着她。
“为什么？你听到什么风声了吗？”
“没什么。我只是相信你的判断而已。露丝，你不是个异想天开的女人。”
“但我并没有明确的线索。”
马普尔小姐若有所思地说：“记得基督降临节后的第二个星期天，做礼拜时我坐在格蕾丝•兰布尔后边，对她越来越担心。没错，一定是哪里不对劲，非常不对劲，但又说不清是为什么。那是一种非常确切的扰人之感。”
“结果出什么事了？”
“是出事了。她那位曾是海军上将的父亲有阵子一直神经兮兮的，那天礼拜后，他拿着个矿锤去找她，说格蕾丝是反基督教徒伪装的，差点儿杀了她。后来人们把他送进了疯人院，格蕾丝在医院里待了好几个月才恢复正常——真是命悬一线啊。”
“你在教堂就有不祥的预感了吗？”
“我倒不觉得那是预感。我的判断都建立在事实的基础之上——事发前总有些蛛丝马迹，只是人们往往意识不到。那天格蕾丝戴反了帽子，这非常少见，格蕾丝•兰布尔非常细心，不是个粗枝大叶的女孩。能让她分心以至于没注意到帽子戴反了的事非常少。后来大家才知道，临出门时，她父亲朝她扔了个大理石镇纸，把镜子砸得粉碎，她把帽子随手戴上便匆匆出了门。她不愿意显得狼狈，更不想让下人听见什么。她把父亲的这些行为都归咎于‘爸爸的船员脾气’，她没意识到父亲的神经已经错乱，她早该意识到这点的。事实上，她父亲一直在抱怨有人监视他，说自己被敌人跟踪——这都是神经错乱的症状。”
范•赖多克夫人钦佩地看着这位多年的老友。
她说：“简，也许圣玛丽米德村不像我一直想的那样，是个宁静恬淡的安乐窝。”
“亲爱的，人性在哪里都差不多。只是在城市里更难观察一些。”
“你会去石门山庄吗？”
“会去，这也许对我外甥雷蒙德有些不公平，我是说，这会让人以为他不够照顾我。好在那个孝顺孩子要去墨西哥待六个月，等他回来，一切都该结束了。”
“什么该结束了？”
“卡莉•路易丝的邀请不会标明具体时间，但三周到一个月足够了。”
“够让你查明出了什么事吗？”
“这点时间完全够了。”
“简，”范•赖多克夫人说，“你对自己信心满满，是吗？”
马普尔小姐略带些责备地看着她。
“是你对我有信心，露丝。既然你这么说……我只能努力证明你的信任没错。”
Chapter Two
Two
B efore catching her train back to St. Mary Mead (Wednesday special cheap day return) Miss Marple, in a precise andbusinesslike fashion, collected certain data.
“Carrie Louise and I have corresponded after a fashion, but it has largely been a matter of Christmas cards orcalendars. It’s just the facts I should like, Ruth dear—and also some idea as to whom exactly I shall encounter in thehousehold at Stonygates.”
“Well, you know about Carrie Louise’s marriage to Gulbrandsen. There were no children and Carrie Louise tookthat very much to heart. Gulbrandsen was a widower, and had three grown-up sons. Eventually they adopted a child.
Pippa, they called her—a lovely little creature. She was just two years old when they got her.”
“Where did she come from? What was her background?”
“Really, now, Jane, I can’t remember—if I ever heard, that is. An adoption society, maybe? Or some unwantedchild that Gulbrandsen had heard about. Why? Do you think it’s important?”
“Well, one always likes to know the background, so to speak. But please go on.”
“The next thing that happened was that Carrie Louise found that she was going to have a baby after all. Iunderstand from doctors that that quite often happens.”
Miss Marple nodded.
“I believe so.”
“Anyway, it did happen, and in a funny kind of way, Carrie Louise was almost disconcerted, if you can understandwhat I mean. Earlier, of course, she’d have been wild with joy. As it was, she’d given such a devoted love to Pippathat she felt quite apologetic to Pippa for putting her nose out of joint, so to speak. And then Mildred, when shearrived, was really a very unattractive child. Took after the Gulbrandsens—who were solid and worthy—but definitelyhomely. Carrie Louise was always so anxious to make no difference between the adopted child and her own child thatI think she rather tended to overindulge Pippa and pass over Mildred. Sometimes I think that Mildred resented it.
However I didn’t see them often. Pippa grew up a very beautiful girl and Mildred grew up a plain one. EricGulbrandsen died when Mildred was fifteen and Pippa eighteen. At twenty Pippa married an Italian, the Marchese diSan Severiano—oh quite a genuine Marchese—not an adventurer, or anything like that. She was by way of being anheiress (naturally, or San Severiano wouldn’t have married her—you know what Italians are!). Gulbrandsen left anequal sum in trust for both his own and his adopted daughter. Mildred married a Canon Strete—a nice man but givento colds in the head. About ten or fifteen years older than she was. Quite a happy marriage, I believe.
“He died a year ago and Mildred has come back to Stonygates to live with her mother. But that’s getting on toofast; I’ve skipped a marriage or two. I’ll go back to them. Pippa married her Italian. Carrie Louise was quite pleasedabout the marriage. Guido had beautiful manners and was very handsome, and he was a fine sportsman. A year laterPippa had a daughter and died in childbirth. It was a terrible tragedy and Guido San Severiano was very cut up. CarrieLouise went to and fro between Italy and England a good deal and it was in Rome that she met Johnnie Restarick andmarried him. The Marchese married again and he was quite willing for his little daughter to be brought up in Englandby her exceedingly wealthy grandmother. So they all settled down at Stonygates, Johnnie Restarick and Carrie Louise,and Johnnie’s two boys, Alexis and Stephen (Johnnie’s first wife was a Russian), and the baby Gina. Mildred marriedher Canon soon afterwards. Then came all this business of Johnnie and the Yugoslavian woman and the divorce. Theboys still came to Stonygates for their holidays and were devoted to Carrie Louise and then in 1938, I think it was,Carrie Louise married Lewis.”
Mrs. Van Rydock paused for breath.
“You’ve not met Lewis?”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“No, I think I last saw Carrie Louise in 1928. She very sweetly took me to Covent Garden—to the Opera.”
“Oh yes. Well, Lewis was a very suitable person for her to marry. He was the head of a very celebrated firm ofchartered accountants. I think he met her first over some question of the finances of the Gulbrandsen Trust and theCollege. He was well off, just about her own age, and a man of absolutely upright life. But he was a crank. He wasabsolutely rabid on the subject of the redemption of young criminals.”
Ruth Van Rydock sighed.
“As I said just now, Jane, there are fashions in philanthropy. In Gulbrandsen’s time it was education. Before that itwas soup kitchens—”
Miss Marple nodded.
“Yes, indeed. Port wine jelly and calf’s head broth taken to the sick. My mother used to do it.”
“That’s right. Feeding the body gave way to feeding the mind. Everyone went mad on educating the lower classes.
Well, that’s passed. Soon, I expect, the fashionable thing to do will be not to educate your children, preserve theirilliteracy carefully until they’re eighteen. Anyway the Gulbrandsen Trust and Education Fund was in some difficultiesbecause the state was taking over its functions. Then Lewis came along with his passionate enthusiasm aboutconstructive training for juvenile delinquents. His attention had been drawn to the subject first in the course of hisprofession—auditing accounts where ingenious young men had perpetrated frauds. He was more and more convincedthat juvenile delinquents were not subnormal—that they had excellent brains and abilities and only needed the rightdirection.”
“There is something in that,” said Miss Marple. “But it is not entirely true. I remember—”
She broke off and glanced at her watch.
“Oh dear—I mustn’t miss the 6:30.”
Ruth Van Rydock said urgently:
“And you will go to Stonygates?”
Gathering up her shopping bag and her umbrella Miss Marple said:
“If Carrie Louise asks me—”
“She will ask you. You’ll go? Promise, Jane?”
Jane Marple promised.
第二章
坐火车回圣玛丽米德村之前（星期三返程票特价），马普尔小姐用生意人一般的精明收集了些情况。
“我和卡莉•路易丝不常联络，只是互寄圣诞卡和新年历而已。亲爱的露丝，我想知道些基本情况，比如会在石门山庄见到些什么人。”
“你知道卡莉•路易丝和古尔布兰森的婚事吧？他们没孩子，卡莉•路易丝对此一直耿耿于怀。古尔布兰森是个鳏夫，带着三个长大成人的儿子。于是他们收养了个女孩，给她起名叫皮帕——是个可爱的小东西。收养皮帕时她才只有两岁。”
“她是从哪儿领来的？家庭背景怎样？”
“简，我不记得了——也许根本没人听说过。多半是从收养协会领来的吧。或许是古尔布兰森偶然得知有个孩子没人要。为什么这么问？这个问题很重要吗？”
“多知道些情况总不会有错。请接着讲。”
“但卡莉•路易丝很快就发现自己怀孕了。大夫们说这种事经常发生。”
马普尔小姐点了点头。
“的确是这样的。”
“不管怎么样，她就是怀孕了。有意思的是，卡莉•路易丝竟有些手足无措，你应该能明白我的意思。当然，一开始她高兴坏了。她把全部的爱都给了皮帕，因此她对这种喜悦有些内疚。后来，米尔德里德出世了，她不怎么招人喜欢。她像古尔布兰森家族里的其他人一样严肃而有威严，但长得不怎么样。卡莉•路易丝尽量避免把领养的孩子和亲生孩子区别对待，我常觉得她溺爱皮帕而忽略了米尔德里德。米尔德里德似乎对此非常愤恨。不过我不常见到她们。皮帕出落得非常漂亮，米尔德里德却相貌平平。埃里克•古尔布兰森过世时，米尔德里德十五岁，皮帕十八岁。皮帕二十岁那年和一个意大利人结了婚，那人是圣塞韦里诺的一个侯爵——不过有个名号罢了，其实就是个普通人。皮帕自称能继承财产（否则那个圣塞韦里诺人就不会和她结婚——你知道那些意大利人！）。古尔布兰森把财产平分给了两个孩子。米尔德里德和一个叫斯垂特的教士结了婚，这人不错，但对人冷淡。他比她大十五岁，但我相信他们婚后一定很幸福。
“一年前斯垂特死了，米尔德里德回到石门山庄和母亲一起住。我讲得太快，遗漏了其间的几件婚事。我先把这些婚事说一说。卡莉•路易丝对皮帕和意大利人的婚事非常满意。
圭多风度翩翩，英俊潇洒，擅长运动。结婚一年后皮帕生了个女儿，自己却因难产而死。
这是件可悲的事，圭多十分痛苦。卡莉•路易丝在意大利和英国之间来回跑了许多次，在罗马时遇见了约翰尼•雷斯塔里克并和他结了婚。那个侯爵又结了婚，而且不介意女儿被富有的外婆养大。于是这些人都在石门山庄定居下来，住在庄园里的有约翰尼•雷斯塔里克，卡莉•路易丝，约翰尼的两个儿子亚历克斯和斯蒂芬（约翰尼的前妻是俄国人），还有皮帕的孩子吉娜。米尔德里德和教士结婚后搬出去住了。紧接着发生了约翰和南斯拉夫女人的事情，再接着是卡莉的离婚。约翰尼的两个孩子时常去石门山庄度假，他们很喜欢卡莉•路易丝。后来，一九三八年，我记得是那一年，卡莉和刘易斯结了婚。”
范•赖多克夫人停下来喘了口气。
“你见过刘易斯吗？”
马普尔小姐摇了摇头。
“没有，我最后一次见卡莉•路易丝是一九二八年。她愉快地带我去科文特公园看了戏。”
“刘易斯非常适合她。他是一家很有声望的会计师事务所的头儿。我想他们是因为古尔布兰森信托公司和大学的财务问题相遇的。刘易斯很有钱，和她年纪相当，人又很正直。
但他同样也是个怪人，在少年犯改造问题上态度激进。”
露丝•范•赖多克叹了口气。
“简，我刚才已经说了，慈善也是一阵风。古尔布兰森那个时代流行教育，再往前是施粥场——”
马普尔小姐点了点头。
“把葡萄酒果冻和牛头做的汤送去给病人。妈妈们经常这么做。”
“时代在进化。思想上的教育很快就替代了衣食饱暖。慈善家们热衷于提高下层人群的教育水平。但这股风很快就过去了。他们不让你的孩子接受教育，觉得十八岁以下的人不识字才好。由于职能被国家取代，古尔布兰森信托及教育基金遇到了困难。这时，刘易斯却带着高度的热情改造起了少年犯。他在工作中注意到了这些人——查账时遇到过一些有欺诈行为的聪慧少年。他相信少年犯不会比别人差。他们聪明，也有能力，只是需要正确的引导。”
马普尔小姐说：“这话有道理，但是不完全对。我记得……”
她停下来看了看表。
“糟了！要错过六点半的车了。”
露丝•范•赖多克赶忙问：“你会去石门山庄吗？”
马普尔小姐拿起购物袋和伞，回答道：“如果卡莉邀请我的话。”
“她会请你去的。你会去吗？简，你一定要答应我……”
简•马普尔答应了。
Chapter Three
Three
M iss Marple got out of the train at Market Kindle station. A kindly fellow passenger handed out her suitcase afterher, and Miss Marple, clutching a string bag, a faded leather handbag and some miscellaneous wraps, utteredappreciative twitters of thanks.
“So kind of you, I’m sure … So difficult nowadays—not many porters. I get so flustered when I travel.”
The twitters were drowned by the booming noise of the station announcer saying loudly but indistinctly that the3:18 was standing at Platform 1 and was about to proceed to various unidentifiable stations.
Market Kindle was a large empty windswept station with hardly any passengers or railway staff to be seen on it. Itsclaim to distinction lay in having six platforms and a bay where a very small train of one carriage was puffingimportantly.
Miss Marple, rather more shabbily dressed than was her custom (so lucky that she hadn’t given away the oldspeckledy), was peering around her uncertainly when a young man came up to her.
“Miss Marple?” he said. His voice had an unexpectedly dramatic quality about it, as though the utterance of hername were the first words of a part he was playing in amateur theatricals. “I’ve come to meet you—from Stonygates.”
Miss Marple looked gratefully at him, a charming helpless looking old lady with, if he had chanced to notice it,very shrewd blue eyes. The personality of the young man did not quite match his voice. It was less important, onemight almost say insignificant. His eyelids had a trick of fluttering nervously.
“Oh, thank you,” said Miss Marple. “There’s just this suitcase.”
She noticed that the young man did not pick up her suitcase himself. He flipped a finger at a porter who wastrundling some packing cases past on a trolley.
“Bring it out, please,” he said, and added importantly, “For Stonygates.”
The porter said cheerfully:
“Rightyho. Shan’t be long.”
Miss Marple fancied that her new acquaintance was not too pleased about this. It was as if Buckingham Palace hadbeen dismissed as no more important than 3 Laburnum Road.
He said, “The railways get more impossible every day!”
Guiding Miss Marple towards the exit, he said: “I’m Edgar Lawson. Mrs. Serrocold asked me to meet you. I helpMr. Serrocold in his work.”
There was again the faint insinuation that a busy and important man had, very charmingly, put important affairs onone side out of chivalry to his employer’s wife.
And again the impression was not wholly convincing—it had a theatrical flavour.
Miss Marple began to wonder about Edgar Lawson.
They came out of the station and Edgar guided the old lady to where a rather elderly Ford V.8 was standing.
He was just saying, “Will you come in front with me, or would you prefer the back?” when there was a diversion.
A new gleaming two-seater Rolls Bentley came purring into the station yard and drew up in front of the Ford. Avery beautiful young woman jumped out of it and came across to them. The fact that she wore dirty corduroy slacksand a simple aertex shirt open at the neck seemed somehow to enhance the fact that she was not only beautiful butexpensive.
“There you are, Edgar. I thought I wouldn’t make it in time. I see you’ve got Miss Marple. I came to meet her.”
She smiled dazzlingly at Miss Marple showing a row of lovely teeth in a sunburnt southern face. “I’m Gina,” she said.
“Carrie Louise’s granddaughter. What was your journey like? Simply foul? What a nice string bag. I love string bags.
I’ll take it and the coats and then you can get in better.”
Edgar’s face flushed. He protested.
“Look here, Gina, I came to meet Miss Marple. It was all arranged….”
Again the teeth flashed in that wide, lazy smile.
“Oh I know, Edgar, but I suddenly thought it would be nice if I came along. I’ll take her with me and you can waitand bring her cases up.”
She slammed the door on Miss Marple, ran round to the other side, jumped in the driving seat, and they purredswiftly out of the station.
Looking back, Miss Marple noticed Edgar Lawson’s face.
“I don’t think, my dear,” she said, “that Mr. Lawson is very pleased.”
Gina laughed.
“Edgar’s a frightful idiot,” she said. “Always so pompous about things. You’d really think he mattered!”
Miss Marple asked, “Doesn’t he matter?”
“Edgar?” There was an unconscious note of cruelty in Gina’s scornful laugh. “Oh, he’s bats anyway.”
“Bats?”
“They’re all bats at Stonygates,” said Gina. “I don’t mean Lewis and Grandam and me and the boys—and not MissBellever, of course. But the others. Sometimes I feel I’m going a bit bats myself living there. Even Aunt Mildred goesout on walks and mutters to herself all the time—and you don’t expect a Canon’s widow to do that, do you?”
They swung out of the station approach and accelerated up the smooth-surfaced, empty road. Gina shot a swift,sideways glance at her companion.
“You were at school with Grandam, weren’t you? It seems so queer.”
Miss Marple knew perfectly what she meant. To youth it seems very odd to think that age was once young andpigtailed and struggled with decimals and English literature.
“It must,” said Gina with awe in her voice, and obviously not meaning to be rude, “have been a very long timeago.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Marple. “You feel that more with me than you do with your grandmother, I expect?”
Gina nodded. “It’s cute of you saying that. Grandam, you know, gives one a curiously ageless feeling.”
“It is a long time since I’ve seen her. I wonder if I shall find her much changed.”
“Her hair’s grey, of course,” said Gina vaguely. “And she walks with a stick because of her arthritis. It’s got muchworse lately. I suppose that—” she broke off, and then asked, “Have you been to Stonygates before?”
“No, never. I’ve heard a great deal about it, of course.”
“It’s pretty ghastly really,” said Gina cheerfully. “A sort of Gothic monstrosity. What Steve calls Best VictorianLavatory period. But it’s fun, too, in a way. Only, of course, everything’s madly earnest, and you tumble overpsychiatrists everywhere underfoot. Enjoying themselves madly. Rather like scoutmasters, only worse. The youngcriminals are rather pets, some of them. One showed me how to diddle locks with a bit of wire and one angelic-facedboy gave me a lot of points about coshing people.”
Miss Marple considered this information thoughtfully.
“It’s the thugs I like best,” said Gina. “I don’t fancy the queers so much. Of course, Lewis and Dr. Maverick thinkthey’re all queers—I mean they think it’s repressed desires and disordered home life and their mothers getting off withsoldiers and all that. I don’t really see it myself because some people have had awful home lives and yet havemanaged to turn out quite all right.”
“I’m sure it is all a very difficult problem,” said Miss Marple.
Gina laughed, again showing her magnificent teeth.
“It doesn’t worry me much. I suppose some people have these sorts of urges to make the world a better place.
Lewis is quite dippy about it all—he’s going to Aberdeen next week because there’s a case coming up in the policecourt—a boy with five previous convictions.”
“The young man who met me at the station? Mr. Lawson. He helps Mr. Serrocold, he told me. Is he his secretary?”
“Oh Edgar hasn’t brains enough to be a secretary. He’s a case, really. He used to stay at hotels and pretend he wasa V.C. or a fighter pilot and borrow money and then do a flit. I think he’s just a rotter. But Lewis goes through aroutine with them all. Makes them feel one of the family and gives them jobs to do and all that to encourage theirsense of responsibility. I daresay we shall be murdered by one of them one of these days.” Gina laughed merrily.
Miss Marple did not laugh.
They turned in through some imposing gates where a commissionaire was standing on duty in a military mannerand drove up a drive flanked with rhododendrons. The drive was badly kept and the grounds seemed neglected.
Interpreting her companion’s glance, Gina said, “No gardeners during the war, and since we haven’t bothered. Butit does look rather terrible.”
They came round a curve and Stonygates appeared in its full glory. It was, as Gina had said, a vast edifice ofVictorian Gothic—a kind of temple to plutocracy. Philanthropy had added to it in various wings and outbuildingswhich, while not positively dissimilar in style, had robbed the structure as a whole of any cohesion or purpose.
“Hideous, isn’t it?” said Gina affectionately. “There’s Grandam on the terrace. I’ll stop here and you can go andmeet her.”
Miss Marple advanced along the terrace towards her old friend.
From a distance, the slim little figure looked curiously girlish in spite of the stick on which she leaned and her slowand obviously rather painful progress. It was as though a young girl was giving an exaggerated imitation of old age.
“Jane,” said Mrs. Serrocold.
“Dear Carrie Louise.”
Yes, unmistakably Carrie Louise. Strangely unchanged, strangely youthful still, although, unlike her sister, sheused no cosmetics or artificial aids to youth. Her hair was grey, but it had always been of a silvery fairness and thecolour had changed very little. Her skin had still a rose leaf pink and white appearance, though now it was a crumpledrose leaf. Her eyes had still their starry innocent glance. She had the slender youthful figure of a girl and her head keptits eager birdlike tilt.
“I do blame myself,” said Carrie Louise in her sweet voice, “for letting it be so long. Years since I saw you, Janedear. It’s just lovely that you’ve come at last to pay us a visit here.”
From the end of the terrace Gina called:
“You ought to come in, Grandam. It’s getting cold—and Jolly will be furious.”
Carrie Louise gave her little silvery laugh.
“They all fuss about me so,” she said. “They rub it in that I’m an old woman.”
“And you don’t feel like one.”
“No, I don’t, Jane. In spite of all my aches and pains—and I’ve got plenty. Inside I go on feeling just a chit likeGina. Perhaps everyone does. The glass shows them how old they are and they just don’t believe it. It seems only afew months ago that we were at Florence. Do you remember Fr?ulein Schweich and her boots?”
The two elderly women laughed together at events that had happened nearly half a century ago.
They walked together to a side door. In the doorway a gaunt, elderly lady met them. She had an arrogant nose, ashort haircut and wore stout, well-cut tweeds.
She said fiercely:
“It’s absolutely crazy of you, Cara, to stay out so late. You’re absolutely incapable of taking care of yourself. Whatwill Mr. Serrocold say?”
“Don’t scold me, Jolly,” said Carrie Louise pleadingly. She introduced Miss Bellever to Miss Marple.
“This is Miss Bellever who is simply everything to me. Nurse, dragon, watchdog, secretary, housekeeper, and veryfaithful friend.”
Juliet Bellever sniffed, and the end of her big nose turned rather pink, a sign of emotion.
“I do what I can,” she said gruffly. “This is a crazy household. You simply can’t arrange any kind of plannedroutine.”
“Darling Jolly, of course you can’t. I wonder why you ever try. Where are you putting Miss Marple?”
“In the Blue Room. Shall I take her up?” asked Miss Bellever.
“Yes, please do, Jolly. And then bring her down to tea. It’s in the library today, I think.”
The Blue Room had heavy curtains of a rich, faded blue brocade that must have been, Miss Marple thought, aboutfifty years old. The furniture was mahogany, big and solid, and the bed was a vast mahogany fourposter. Miss Belleveropened a door into a connecting bathroom. This was unexpectedly modern, orchid in colouring and with muchdazzling chromium.
She observed grimly:
“John Restarick had ten bathrooms put into the house when he married Cara. The plumbing is about the only thingthat’s ever been modernized. He wouldn’t hear of the rest being altered—said the whole place was a perfect periodpiece. Did you ever know him at all?”
“No, I never met him. Mrs. Serrocold and I have met very seldom though we have always corresponded.”
“He was an agreeable fellow,” said Miss Bellever. “No good, of course! A complete rotter. But pleasant to haveabout the house. Great charm. Women liked him far too much. That was his undoing in the end. Not really Cara’stype.”
She added, with a brusque resumption of her practical manner:
“The housemaid will unpack for you. Do you want a wash before tea?”
Receiving an affirmative answer, she said that Miss Marple would find her waiting at the top of the stairs.
Miss Marple went into the bathroom and washed her hands and dried them a little nervously on a very beautifulorchid coloured face towel. Then she removed her hat and patted her soft white hair into place.
Opening her door she found Miss Bellever waiting for her and was conducted down the big gloomy staircase andacross a vast dark hall and into a room where bookshelves went up to the ceiling and a big window looked out over anartificial lake.
Carrie Louise was standing by the window and Miss Marple joined her.
“What a very imposing house this is,” said Miss Marple. “I feel quite lost in it.”
“Yes, I know. It’s ridiculous, really. It was built by a prosperous iron master—or something of that kind. He wentbankrupt not long after. I don’t wonder really. There were about fourteen living rooms—all enormous. I’ve never seenwhat people can want with more than one sitting room. And all those huge bedrooms. Such a lot of unnecessary space.
Mine is terribly overpowering—and quite a long way to walk from the bed to the dressing table. And great heavy darkcrimson curtains.”
“You haven’t had it modernized and redecorated?”
Carrie Louise looked vaguely surprised.
“No. On the whole it’s very much as it was when I first lived here with Eric. It’s been repainted, of course, but theyalways do it the same colour. Those things don’t really matter, do they? I mean I shouldn’t have felt justified inspending a lot of money on that kind of thing when there are so many things that are so much more important.”
“Have there been no changes at all in the house?”
“Oh yes—heaps of them. We’ve just kept a kind of block in the middle of the house as it was—the Great Hall andthe rooms off and over. They’re the best ones and Johnnie—my second husband—was lyrical over them and said theyshould never be touched or altered—and, of course, he was an artist and a designer and he knew about these things.
But the East and West wings have been completely remodelled. All the rooms partitioned off and divided up, so thatwe have offices, and bedrooms for the teaching staff, and all that. The boys are all in the College building—you cansee it from here.”
Miss Marple looked out towards where large red brick buildings showed through a belt of sheltering trees. Thenher eyes fell on something nearer at hand, and she smiled a little.
“What a very beautiful girl Gina is,” she said.
Carrie Louise’s face lit up.
“Yes, isn’t she?” she said softly. “It’s so lovely to have her back here again. I sent her to America at the beginningof the war—to Ruth. Did Ruth talk about her at all?”
“No. At least she did just mention her.”
Carrie Louise sighed.
“Poor Ruth! She was frightfully upset over Gina’s marriage. But I’ve told her again and again that I don’t blameher in the least. Ruth doesn’t realise, as I do, that the old barriers and class shibboleths are gone—or at any rate aregoing.
“Gina was doing war work—and she met this young man. He was a marine and had a very good war record. And aweek later they were married. It was all far too quick, of course, no time to find out if they were really suited to eachother—but that’s the way of things nowadays. Young people belong to their generation. We may think they’re unwisein many of their doings, but we have to accept their decisions. Ruth, though, was terribly upset.”
“She didn’t consider the young man suitable?”
“She kept saying that one didn’t know anything about him. He came from the middle west and he hadn’t anymoney—and naturally no profession. There are hundreds of boys like that everywhere—but it wasn’t Ruth’s idea ofwhat was right for Gina. However, the thing was done. I was so glad when Gina accepted my invitation to come overhere with her husband. There’s so much going on here—jobs of every kind, and if Walter wants to specialise inmedicine or get a degree or anything he could do it in this country. After all, this is Gina’s home. It’s delightful tohave her back, to have someone so warm and gay and alive in the house.”
Miss Marple nodded and looked out of the window again at the two young people standing near the lake.
“They’re a remarkably handsome couple, too,” she said. “I don’t wonder Gina fell in love with him!”
“Oh, but that—that isn’t Wally.” There was, quite suddenly, a touch of embarrassment, or restraint, in Mrs.
Serrocold’s voice. “That’s Steve—the younger of Johnnie Restarick’s two boys. When Johnnie—when he went away,he’d no place for the boys in the holidays, so I always had them here. They look on this as their home. And Steve’shere permanently now. He runs our dramatic branch. We have a theatre, you know, and plays—we encourage all theartistic instincts. Lewis says that so much of this juvenile crime is due to exhibitionism; most of the boys have hadsuch a thwarted, unhappy home life, and these hold-ups and burglaries make them feel heroes. We urge them to writetheir own plays and act in them and design and paint their own scenery. Steve is in charge of the theatre. He’s so keenand enthusiastic. It’s wonderful what life he’s put into the whole thing.”
“I see,” said Miss Marple slowly.
Her long distance sight was good (as many of her neighbours knew to their cost in the village of St. Mary Mead)and she saw very clearly the dark handsome face of Stephen Restarick as he stood facing Gina, talking eagerly. Gina’sface she could not see, since the girl had her back to them, but there was no mistaking the expression in StephenRestarick’s face.
“It isn’t any business of mine,” said Miss Marple, “but I suppose you realise, Carrie Louise, that he’s in love withher.”
“Oh no—” Carrie Louise looked troubled. “Oh no, I do hope not.”
“You were always up in the clouds, Carrie Louise. There’s not the least doubt about it.”
第三章
马普尔小姐在金德尔市场站下了车。一位好心的乘客帮她把手提箱提下去。马普尔小姐手里抓着一个网线袋、一个褪了色的皮手袋和其他几件行李，念念叨叨地说着感激的话：
“谢谢你，你真是太好了……给你添麻烦了。站上没几个行李员，每次出门总是手忙脚乱的。”
说话声被站台工作人员的喊声淹没了，三点十八分到站的车将停在一站台，马上要发往别的车站。工作人员的嗓门很大，但口齿不是很清楚。
金德尔市场站是个空旷的车站，它迎着风口，站台上几乎看不到旅客和工作人员。六道铁轨上只停着一辆车——一节单节小火车，正扑扑地吐着气。
马普尔小姐穿得比以往还差（幸好她没把这些旧衣服送人）。当她心神不宁地四下张望时，有个年轻人朝她走了过来。
“您是马普尔小姐吧？”他的声调非常有趣，如同这个名字是戏剧演出的开场白似的，“我是来接您的——从石门山庄专程而来。”
马普尔小姐感激地看着他，如果稍加留意，他也许会发现这个看上去无助的老太太有双狡黠的眼睛。年轻人的声音和性格反差很大，这不重要，甚至有人会说这根本无关紧要。他的眼皮因为紧张而习惯性地抖个不停。
“谢谢你，”马普尔小姐说，“我只带了个手提箱。”
年轻人没去拿手提箱，而是冲着正用手推车推行李的行李员打了个响指。
“把这个送出站，”接着他又强调了一句，“送到石门山庄。”
行李员爽快地说：“行，路不是很远。”
马普尔小姐觉得年轻人似乎对行李员感到不满，行李员像是没把石门山庄当回事。
他说：“铁路上的人真让人没话说！”
他带马普尔小姐向出口走。“我是埃德加•劳森，塞罗科尔德夫人让我来接您。我为塞罗科尔德先生办事。”
马普尔小姐觉得这个风度翩翩的年轻人在暗示他很忙，出于对老板夫人的殷勤，他把重要的事搁在一边才赶到了这里。
但感觉还是不太对——总有些演戏的成分在里面。
有必要好好琢磨琢磨埃德加•劳森这个人。走出车站，劳森把老太太带到一辆旧福特V8车旁。
他随口说了一句：“你和我坐前排还是一个人坐后排？”这时意外发生了。
一辆闪闪发光的双排座宾利飞驰而来，停在福特车前。一个漂亮的年轻姑娘跳下车，朝他们走了过来。她穿着普通的灯芯绒裤和对襟衬衫，却依旧光彩照人。
“埃德加，你还在啊，我还以为赶不上了呢。看来你已经接到马普尔小姐了。我来送她过去。”她冲马普尔小姐一笑，南欧人特有的黝黑脸庞上露出一排皓齿。她说：“我是卡莉•路易丝的外孙女吉娜。旅途怎么样？过得糟吗？你的网兜真好。我很喜欢这种提袋，我帮你拿网兜和大衣，让你稍微轻松一点。”
埃德加脸红了，向吉娜提出抗议。
“吉娜，接马普尔小姐的是我，原本是这样安排的……”
吉娜慵懒地一笑，又露出那排可爱的牙齿。
“埃德加，我知道，但我觉得我来会更好。她坐我的车，你负责把行李带回去。”
她关上马普尔小姐那一侧的门，跑到车的另一边，跳进驾驶座，迅速把车驶出车站。
马普尔小姐回头看了看埃德加•劳森的脸。
她对吉娜说：“亲爱的，我觉得劳森先生不怎么高兴。”
吉娜笑了。
“埃德加是个白痴，”她说，“他总是一副自大的样子，其实什么都不是！”
马普尔小姐问：“他是谁？”
“埃德加？”吉娜轻蔑的笑容中带着一丝残忍，“他是个疯子。”
“他是疯子？”
“石门山庄的人都是疯子，”吉娜说，“刘易斯、外婆、家里的男孩们和我不疯，贝莱弗小姐也不疯。但其他人都是些疯子。有时我觉得住在那儿我也快疯了。连米尔德里德姨妈散步时都在自言自语——教士的遗孀应该不会这样，难道不是吗？”
汽车飞驰着离开了站前的那条路，沿着平整而空旷的大道越开越快。吉娜飞快地瞥了一眼她的客人。
“你和外婆一起念过书，是吗？这点挺怪的。”
马普尔小姐完全能明白她的意思。年轻人很难想象他们这些乌发老人也曾年轻，也曾为了小数点的计算和英国文学而发奋苦读。想起来总会有点不可思议。
吉娜的语气充满尊敬，显然不愿太过唐突。“那一定是很久以前的事了吧？”
“没错，是的，”马普尔小姐说，“这点在我身上比你外婆身上更明显吧？”
吉娜点了点头。“这么说很贴切。外婆总给人一种没有年龄感的感觉。”
“好久没见她了。不知道她变化大不大。”
吉娜含糊地答道：“她的头发已经灰白了。因为关节炎的原因走路得用拐杖，最近情况比较糟。我觉得——”她顿了下，转而问马普尔小姐，“你以前来过石门山庄吗？”
“从来没有。只是听过那里的一些事。”
“那里挺可怕的，”吉娜乐呵呵地说，“房子是哥特式的巨型怪兽，斯蒂夫说它是维多利亚时代的厕所。但从某种意义上讲，它也挺有趣的。房子里的人和物能让人发疯，到处是精神病医生，他们像童子军首领一样自得其乐，但生活环境相差很多。少年犯像宠物一样被圈养着。有人教我怎么用电线开锁，有个天使脸蛋的男孩教我怎么用短棒打人。”
马普尔小姐仔细思量着听到的话。
吉娜说：“我喜欢恶棍，不喜欢怪人。刘易斯和马弗里克大夫认为他们都有些怪——他们俩认为这是愿望被抑制，家庭生活不怎么正常，或是母亲与士兵私奔等原因造成的。我倒不这么看，因为有些人的家庭生活也十分不幸，但长大后却很正常。”
马普尔小姐说：“这是个很难解答的问题。”
吉娜笑了，再次露出她那排漂亮的牙齿。
“我倒并不担心。总有些人希望把世界变成更好的地方。刘易斯醉心于此——他下周要去阿伯丁，那里的治安法庭要审讯一个曾被五次定罪的男孩。”
“那个在车站接我的劳森先生呢？他告诉我他为塞罗科尔德先生做事。他是塞罗科尔德先生的秘书吗？”
“埃德加才不是当秘书的料呢。他曾经犯过事。以前常混迹于各大宾馆，装扮成志愿兵或战斗机飞行员，借了钱就溜。只是个小混混。可刘易斯对他们都很不错，让他们有种家庭的归属感，给他们工作以培养他们的责任心。但我总觉得，总有一天，他们中的哪个会把我们全杀了。”吉娜笑着说。
马普尔小姐却没有笑。
汽车穿过一扇有门卫值勤的大门，开入两边长满了杜鹃花的车道。路况非常差，路面上斑痕累累。
看到马普尔小姐的表情，吉娜连忙解释道：“战时没请园丁，我们也不是太在意。看上去确实有点糟。”
绕过一个弯道，宏伟的石门山庄便展现在她们眼前。和吉娜所说的一样，这是幢维多利亚时代的哥特式住宅——像某个财阀的宫殿。这位财阀给这幢建筑增加了几处侧翼及一些附属建筑，风格虽然统一，却使大宅子失去了整体的一致性。
“不怎么样，对吗？”吉娜一腔怨气地说，“外婆在平台上。我把车停在这儿，你去见她吧。”
马普尔小姐沿着平台朝老友走了过去。
尽管扶着拐杖，但从远处看，卡莉•路易丝的身影依然那么娇小。感觉像年轻女孩以一种夸张的方式模仿老太太走路似的。
“简！”塞罗科尔德夫人嚷道。
“卡莉•路易丝，我亲爱的。”
没错，是如假包换的卡莉•路易丝。令人惊讶的是，她没怎么变，还是那么年轻。和姐姐不同，卡莉不用化妆品或任何人工手段。她的头发呈银灰色——她的头发原本就是银色的，几乎没怎么变。皮肤仍是玫瑰花似的白里透红，只是花瓣有些起皱了。她的眼神依旧纯洁无辜，体形如同年轻女孩一样苗条，头像要起飞的鸟一样微微前倾。
“这么多年没见错全在我，”卡莉•路易丝甜甜地说，“简，多年没见了。真高兴你能来。”
吉娜在平台那头说：“外婆，该进屋了，天越来越冷——乔利会发脾气的。”
卡莉•路易丝发出银铃般的笑声。
她说：“他们老是对我兴师动众的，欺负我是个老太婆。”
“可你并不这么想吧？”
“简，我当然不这么想。虽然全身上下不舒服，经历过很多事，但我的心和吉娜一样年轻。别人说不定也这样。镜子能诉说岁月的痕迹，但他们就是不信。现在回想起来，佛罗伦萨的事就像是几个月之前发生的。还记得弗劳琳•施瓦格和她的长筒靴吗？”
两个上了年纪的老妇人回忆着几乎半个世纪之前发生的事，禁不住笑了起来。
她们一同走进一个小门。门口有位瘦削的老太太，长着个傲慢的大鼻子，头发剪得很短，身穿裁剪得体、结实耐用的粗花呢裙。
她厉声道：“卡拉 [1] ，你真是疯了，在外面待到现在。你完全没能力照顾自己。真不知道塞罗科尔德先生会怎么说。”
“乔利，别责备我。”卡莉•路易丝恳求道。
她把贝莱弗小姐介绍给马普尔小姐。
“这是贝莱弗小姐，她是我的一切：护士、监护人、监察者、秘书、管家，还是一个忠实的朋友。”
朱丽叶•贝莱弗吸了吸鼻子，由于激动鼻头通红。
她生硬地说：“我只能做些力所能及的事。这个家太疯狂了，我没法把所有事都安排得井井有条。”
“亲爱的乔利，当然没办法事事有条理。何必要那么尝试呢？你打算让马普尔小姐住在哪儿？”
“蓝室。我可以带她上去了吗？”贝莱弗小姐问。
“乔利，带她去吧。一会儿带她下来喝茶，今天茶点在书房吃。”
蓝室的窗帘很厚，华丽的蓝色织锦花缎已然褪了色。马普尔小姐想，该有五十多年了吧。家具大而结实，由红木制成，床是红木做的四柱床。贝莱弗小姐打开通向浴室的门。
浴室出人意料地现代化，整体呈淡紫色，个别地方镀着明亮的铬。
她严厉地看了浴室一眼。
“约翰尼•雷斯塔里克和卡拉结婚时在这幢房子里新建了十个浴室，之后只是更换了些管道。他不同意对其他地方做改动——他说这里是上个时代的完美杰作。对了，你认识他吗？”
“不，从来没见过。我和塞罗科尔德夫人虽然通信但很少见面。”
“他很会做人，”贝莱弗小姐说，“但不是什么好人。他在家里表现得很好，很有风度。
许多女人都喜欢他，最后却死在女人手里。和卡拉完全不是一路人。”
接着她粗鲁地问：“女仆会替你整理行李。用茶点前想先洗漱一下吗？”
得到了肯定的答复后，她说会在楼梯口等待马普尔小姐。
马普尔小姐走进浴室，洗了洗手，然后略有些慌张地用淡紫色的毛巾擦干。她脱下帽子，整理了一下头发。
推开门，马普尔小姐发现贝莱弗小姐正在门外等着她。两人顺着宽敞却有些昏暗的楼梯下了楼，穿过同样昏暗的大厅，走进一个书架高到屋顶的房间，房间的窗户正对着人工湖。
卡莉•路易丝站在窗边，马普尔小姐走到她身旁。
“房子好大啊，”马普尔小姐说，“我都不知道哪儿是哪儿了。”
“是啊。真够荒唐的。这里最初是由一个发迹的铁匠建起来的，没多久他就破产了。这点并不奇怪。大约有十四个厅——全都很大。我觉得家里只需要一间客厅就够了。还有很多大卧室。完全没这个必要。我的卧室也大得让人发愁——从床边走到梳妆台要走很远的路。深红色的窗帘又大又重。”
“没让人把房子重新装修一下吗？”
卡莉•路易丝的表情略微有些惊讶。
“没有。与当初和埃里克住在这里时一样。只是重新粉刷了一下，用的是同一种颜色。
这种事应该不重要吧？有那么多重要的事要做，何必把钱浪费在装修上呢？”
“除了粉刷之外，这幢房子没做过任何改动吗？”
“动过很多次。只有中间部分的房间之间的通道没动。我的第二任丈夫约翰尼十分喜欢中间部分的设计，就没让人动。他是个艺术家、设计师，懂得这些事情。不过东西两边的侧翼都进行了彻底的改建。隔出房间并分了区，改造成办公室、教员卧室什么的。男孩都住在学院楼——从这儿就能看见。”
透过树林，马普尔小姐看到几幢很大的红砖建筑。之后她的目光落在近处，兀自笑了笑。
“吉娜真是个漂亮姑娘！”她说。
卡莉•路易丝的脸上绽放出光芒。
“是很漂亮。”她轻声说，“让她回来真是太好了。战争开始时我把她送到美国，露丝那里。露丝谈起过她吗？”
“没说太多。只提了一下。”
卡莉•路易丝叹了口气。
“可怜的露丝！她对吉娜的婚事一定很生气。我告诉她在这点上我并不怪她。和我不同的是，露丝没能意识到婚姻中的等级观念和原有的那些问题都已经不存在了——从某种程度上来说，那些观念都已经过时了。
“吉娜在做与战争有关的工作时遇到了那个年轻人。他是个海军士兵，有着很好的参战履历。一周后他们便结了婚。的确是快了点儿，没有足够的时间去体会彼此是否适合——但当时那个年代就是这样。年轻人属于他们的时代。我们可能觉得他们挺傻的，但必须接受他们的决定。露丝却很生气。”
“她觉得那个年轻人跟吉娜不合适吗？”
“她说谁也不了解那个人。他来自中西部，没什么钱——自然也没工作。现在各处都是那样的年轻人——露丝觉得吉娜不该如此轻率地嫁人。但事情都过去了。我很高兴吉娜接受邀请和丈夫一起来这儿。这里的事情太多了——什么都缺人干。如果沃尔特想从医或拿个学位什么的，完全可以留在这儿。不管怎么说，这里是吉娜的家。她回来真好，有她这样热情快乐的人真是太好了。”
马普尔小姐点了点头，看了眼窗外，那对年轻人就在湖边。
“他们真是出众的一对！”她说，“吉娜真心地爱着他！”
“那……那不是沃利 [2] ，”塞罗科尔德夫人的话音里透着一丝尴尬，“那是约翰尼•雷斯塔里克的小儿子斯蒂芬。约翰尼去世以后，孩子们放假了就没地方可去，于是我让他们都来这儿。他们也觉得这里是他们的家。斯蒂芬在这里住了很长一段时间。他负责戏剧团——我们有个剧院，经常有演出。我们鼓励孩子们发挥出所有的艺术天赋。刘易斯说青少年犯罪主要是出于表现欲。大多数男孩的家庭很不幸，抢劫、盗窃能使他们觉得自己成了英雄。我们鼓励他们写剧本、演出、设计舞台并自行配色。斯蒂芬就负责这些人。他用心，也有热情，把戏剧活动搞得红红火火的，成效非常显著。”
“是这么回事啊。”马普尔小姐缓缓地说。
马普尔小姐的视力很不错（圣玛丽米德村的邻居吃过苦头后都深知这一点），她看见斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克英俊的脸上有急切的神情。斯蒂芬正和吉娜说着话。吉娜背对窗户，马普尔小姐看不见她的脸。但斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克的面部表情却是确定无疑的。
“我本不该插嘴，”马普尔小姐说，“但卡莉•路易丝，我猜你也意识到了，他喜欢上了吉娜。”
“哦，不……”卡莉•路易丝的表情很困惑，“不，我不希望发生这种事。”
“卡莉•路易丝，你总是后知后觉。这点是毫无疑问的。”
注释：
[1]卡莉的昵称。
[2]沃尔特的昵称。
Chapter Four
Four
1B efore Mrs. Serrocold could say anything, her husband came in from the hall carrying some open letters in his hand.
Lewis Serrocold was a short man, not particularly impressive in appearance, but with a personality thatimmediately marked him out. Ruth had once said of him that he was more like a dynamo than a human being. Heusually concentrated entirely on what was immediately occupying his attention and paid no attention to the objects orpersons who were surrounding it.
“A bad blow, dearest,” he said. “That boy, Jackie Flint. Back at his tricks again. And I really did think he meant togo straight this time if he got a proper chance. He was most earnest about it. You know we found he’d always beenkeen on railways—and both Maverick and I thought that if he got a job on the railways he’d stick to it and make good.
But it’s the same story. Petty thieving from the parcels office. Not even stuff he could want or sell. That shows that itmust be psychological. We haven’t really got to the root of the trouble. But I’m not giving up.”
“Lewis—this is my old friend, Jane Marple.”
“Oh, how d’you do,” said Mr. Serrocold absently. “So glad—they’ll prosecute, of course. A nice lad, too, not toomany brains but a really nice boy. Unspeakable home he came from. I—”
He suddenly broke off, and the dynamo was switched onto the guest.
“Why, Miss Marple, I’m so delighted you’ve come to stay with us for a while. It will make such a great differenceto Caroline to have a friend of old days with whom she can exchange memories. She has, in many ways, a grim timehere—so much sadness in the stories of these poor children. We do hope you’ll stay with us a very long time.”
Miss Marple felt the magnetism and realised how attractive it would have been to her friend. That Lewis Serrocoldwas a man who would always put causes before people she did not doubt for a moment. It might have irritated somewomen, but not Carrie Louise.
Lewis Serrocold sorted out another letter.
“At any rate we’ve some good news. This is from the Wiltshire and Somerset Bank. Young Morris is doingextremely well. They’re thoroughly satisfied with him and, in fact, are promoting him next month. I always knew thatall he needed was responsibility—that, and a thorough grasp of the handling of money and what it means.”
He turned to Miss Marple.
“Half these boys don’t know what money is. It represents to them going to the pictures or to the dogs, or buyingcigarettes—and they’re clever with figures and find it exciting to juggle them round. Well, I believe in—what shall Isay?—rubbing their noses in the stuff—train them in accountancy, in figures—show them the whole inner romance ofmoney, so to speak. Give them skill and then responsibility—let them handle it officially. Our greatest successes havebeen that way—only two out of thirty-eight have let us down. One’s head cashier in a firm of druggists—a reallyresponsible position—”
He broke off to say: “Tea’s in, dearest,” to his wife.
“I thought we were having it here. I told Jolly.”
“No, it’s in the Hall. The others are there.”
“I thought they were all going to be out.”
Carrie Louise linked her arm through Miss Marple’s and they went into the Great Hall. Tea seemed a ratherincongruous meal in its surroundings. The tea things were piled haphazard on a tray—while utility cups mixed withthe remnants of what had been Rockingham and Spode tea services. There was a loaf of bread, two pots of jam, andsome cheap and unwholesome-looking cakes.
A plump middle-aged woman with grey hair sat behind the tea table and Mrs. Serrocold said:
“This is Mildred, Jane. My daughter Mildred. You haven’t seen her since she was a tiny girl.”
Mildred Strete was the person most in tune with the house that Miss Marple had so far seen. She looked prosperousand dignified. She had married late in her thirties a Canon of the Church of England and was now a widow. Shelooked exactly like a Canon’s widow, respectable and slightly dull. She was a plain woman with a large unexpressiveface and dull eyes. She had been, Miss Marple reflected, a very plain little girl.
“And this is Wally Hudd—Gina’s husband.”
Wally was a big young man, with hair brushed up on his head and a sulky expression. He nodded awkwardly andwent on cramming cake into his mouth.
Presently Gina came in with Stephen Restarick. They were both very animated.
“Gina’s got a wonderful idea for that backcloth,” said Stephen. “You know, Gina, you’ve got a very definite flairfor theatrical designing.”
Gina laughed and looked pleased. Edgar Lawson came in and sat down by Lewis Serrocold. When Gina spoke tohim, he made a pretence of not answering.
Miss Marple found it all a little bewildering and was glad to go to her room and lie down after tea.
There were more people still at dinner, a young Doctor Maverick who was either a psychiatrist or a psychologist—Miss Marple was rather hazy about the difference—and whose conversation, dealing almost entirely with the jargon ofhis trade, was practically unintelligible to her. There were also two spectacled young men who held posts on theteaching side and a Mr. Baumgarten who was an occupational therapist and three intensely bashful youths who weredoing their “house guest” week. One of them, a fair-haired lad with very blue eyes was, Gina informed her in awhisper, the expert with the “cosh.”
The meal was not a particularly appetizing one. It was indifferently cooked and indifferently served. A variety ofcostumes was worn. Miss Bellever wore a high black dress, Mildred Strete wore an evening dress and a woollencardigan over it. Carrie Louise had on a short dress of grey wool—Gina was resplendent in a kind of peasant getup.
Wally had not changed, nor had Stephen Restarick, Edgar Lawson had on a neat, dark blue suit. Lewis Serrocold worethe conventional dinner jacket. He ate very little and hardly seemed to notice what was on his plate.
After dinner Lewis Serrocold and Dr. Maverick went away to the latter’s office. The occupational therapist and theschoolmasters went away to some lair of their own. The three “cases” went back to the college. Gina and Stephenwent to the theatre to discuss Gina’s idea for a set. Mildred knitted an indeterminate garment and Miss Bellever darnedsocks. Wally sat in a chair gently tilted backwards and stared into space. Carrie Louise and Miss Marple talked aboutold days. The conversation seemed strangely unreal.
Edgar Lawson alone seemed unable to find a niche. He sat down and then got up restlessly.
“I wonder if I ought to go to Mr. Serrocold,” he said rather loudly. “He may need me.”
Carrie Louise said gently, “Oh, I don’t think so. He was going to talk over one or two points with Dr. Maverick thisevening.”
“Then I certainly won’t butt in! I shouldn’t dream of going where I wasn’t wanted. I’ve already wasted time todaygoing down to the station when Mrs. Hudd meant to go herself.”
“She ought to have told you,” said Carrie Louise. “But I think she just decided at the last moment.”
“You do realise, Mrs. Serrocold, that she made me look a complete fool! A complete fool!”
“No, no,” said Carrie Louise, smiling. “You mustn’t have these ideas.”
“I know I’m not needed or wanted … I’m perfectly aware of that. If things had been different—if I’d had myproper place in life it would be very different. Very different indeed. It’s no fault of mine that I haven’t got my properplace in life.”
“Now, Edgar,” said Carrie Louise. “Don’t work yourself up about nothing. Jane thinks it was very kind of you tomeet her. Gina always has these sudden impulses—she didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Oh yes, she did. It was done on purpose—to humiliate me—”
“Oh Edgar—”
“You don’t know half of what’s going on, Mrs. Serrocold. Well, I won’t say anymore now except good night.”
Edgar went out shutting the door with a slam behind him.
Miss Bellever snorted:
“Atrocious manners.”
“He’s so sensitive,” said Carrie Louise vaguely.
Mildred Strete clicked her needles and said sharply:
“He really is a most odious young man. You shouldn’t put up with such behavior, Mother.”
“Lewis says he can’t help it.”
Mildred said sharply:
“Everyone can help behaving rudely. Of course I blame Gina very much. She’s so completely scatterbrained ineverything she undertakes. She does nothing but make trouble. One day she encourages the young man and the nextday she snubs him. What can you expect?”
Wally Hudd spoke for the first time that evening.
He said:
“That guy’s crackers. That’s all there is to it! Crackers!”
2In her bedroom that night, Miss Marple tried to review the pattern of Stonygates, but it was as yet too confused. Therewere currents and crosscurrents here—but whether they could account for Ruth Van Rydock’s uneasiness it wasimpossible to tell. It did not seem to Miss Marple that Carrie Louise was affected in any way by what was going onround her. Stephen was in love with Gina. Gina might or might not be in love with Stephen. Walter Hudd was clearlynot enjoying himself. These were incidents that might and did occur in all places and at most times. There was,unfortunately, nothing exceptional about them. They ended in the divorce court and everybody hopefully started again—when fresh tangles were created. Mildred Strete was clearly jealous of Gina and disliked her. That, Miss Marplethought, was very natural.
She thought over what Ruth Van Rydock had told her. Carrie Louise’s disappointment at not having a child—theadoption of little Pippa—and then the discovery that, after all, a child was on the way.
“Often happens like that,” Miss Marple’s doctor had told her. “Relief of tension, maybe, and then Nature can do itswork.”
He had added that it was usually hard lines on the adopted child.
But that had not been so in this case. Both Gulbrandsen and his wife had adored little Pippa. She had made herplace too firmly in their hearts to be lightly set aside. Gulbrandsen was already a father. Paternity meant nothing newto him. Carrie Louise’s maternal yearnings had been assuaged by Pippa. Her pregnancy had been uncomfortable andthe actual birth difficult and prolonged. Possibly Carrie Louise, who had never cared for reality, did not enjoy her firstbrush with it.
There remained two little girls growing up, one pretty and amusing, the other plain and dull. Which again, MissMarple thought, was quite natural. For when people adopt a baby girl, they choose a pretty one. And though Mildredmight have been lucky and taken after the Martins who had produced handsome Ruth and dainty Carrie Louise,Nature elected that she should take after the Gulbrandsens who were large and stolid and uncompromisingly plain.
Moreover Carrie Louise was determined that the adopted child should never feel her position and in making sure ofthis she was overindulgent to Pippa and sometimes less than fair to Mildred.
Pippa had married and gone away to Italy, and Mildred, for a time, had been the only daughter of the house. Butthen Pippa had died and Carrie Louise had brought Pippa’s baby back to Stonygates and once more Mildred had beenout of it. There had been the new marriage—the Restarick boys. In 1934 Mildred had married Canon Strete, ascholarly antiquarian about ten or fifteen years older, and had gone away to live in the south of England. Presumablyshe had been happy—but one did not really know. There had been no children. And now here she was, back again inthe same house where she had been brought up. And once again, Miss Marple thought, not particularly happy in it.
Gina, Stephen, Wally, Mildred, Miss Bellever who liked an ordered routine and was unable to enforce it. LewisSerrocold, who was clearly blissfully and wholeheartedly happy, an idealist able to translate his ideals into practicalmeasures. In none of these personalities did Miss Marple find what Ruth’s words had led her to believe she might find.
Carrie Louise seemed secure, remote at the heart of the whirlpool—as she had been all her life. What then, in thatatmosphere, had Ruth felt to be wrong …? Did she, Jane Marple, feel it also?
What of the outer personalities of the whirlpool—the occupational therapists, the schoolmasters, earnest, harmlessyoung men, confident young Dr. Maverick, the three pink-faced, innocent-eyed young delinquents—Edgar Lawson….
And here, just before she fell asleep, Miss Marple’s thoughts stopped and revolved speculatively round the figureof Edgar Lawson. Edgar Lawson reminded her of someone or something. There was something a little wrong aboutEdgar Lawson—perhaps more than a little. Edgar Lawson was maladjusted—that was the phrase, wasn’t it? But surelythat didn’t, and couldn’t, touch Carrie Louise?
Mentally, Miss Marple shook her head.
What worried her was something more than that.
第四章
塞罗科尔德夫人没来得及再回应，她丈夫拿着几封打开的信从大厅走了过来。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德个头不高，长相普通，但鲜明的个性使他显得卓尔不群。露丝谈到他时说他是个精力充沛的人。他全身心地投入到自己关注的人和事中，对周围的一切浑然不觉。
“亲爱的，我们受到了一次重大的打击，”他说，“杰基•弗林特的老毛病又犯了。我还以为如果给他一个改过自新的机会，他会变好呢。他确实想变好，他对铁路很感兴趣——我和马弗里克觉得，如果他在铁路上找份工作，或许会努力做好。可他又犯了老毛病，从包裹房里偷东西，还偷了些卖不出去、他自己也不需要的东西。肯定是心理上的问题。我们还没找到问题的症结所在，但我不会气馁的。”
“刘易斯——这是我的老朋友，简•马普尔。”
“你好。”塞罗科尔德先生显然没把心思放在马普尔小姐身上，“他们要提起诉讼，当然了，他是个好孩子，没什么头脑，但人不错。他的家庭很混乱，我——”
他突然停了下来，把注意力转移到客人身上。
“马普尔小姐，你能来和我们待上一阵我真是太高兴了。和昔日好友共处、回忆往事，这对卡罗琳十分重要。从许多方面来说，她在这里很不开心——那些孩子的事很让人伤感。希望你能多住上一阵子。”
马普尔小姐觉得对方有一种磁力，她完全明白卡莉•路易丝为何会被这种磁力所吸引。
毫无疑问，相对于家人来说，刘易斯•塞罗科尔德更看重事业。也许有些女人会对这种态度不满，但卡莉•路易丝不会。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德又拿出一封信。
“无论如何，还是有些好消息的。这封信来自威特谢尔和萨默塞特银行。莫里斯在那儿干得很出色。银行的人对莫里斯非常满意，事实上，下个月他就要升职了。他需要的是责任感——学会如何和钱打交道，并明白这意味着什么。”
他转身看着马普尔小姐。
“很多年轻人不知道钱意味着什么。钱对他们而言就意味着去看电影、找女人或买烟抽。他们很擅长摆弄数字，在诈骗中感受兴奋。唉——让我说什么好呢？让他们亲身到银行体验——训练他们从事会计和与数字打交道的工作，让他们了解钱的真正价值。同时也让他们掌握一门技术，以正当的方式与金钱接触。我们就成功在这里。三十八个人里只有两个会让我们失望，另一个是药材公司的出纳——一个相当关键的岗位。”
说到这儿，他转身对妻子说：“亲爱的，我们该去喝茶了。”
“我以为要在这儿喝呢。我让乔利把茶点端到这儿了。”
“不，去大厅喝。其他人都在那儿。”
“他们不是都出去了吗？”
卡莉•路易丝挽着马普尔小姐的胳膊，和她一同走进大厅。茶点和这里的环境似乎不怎么协调。托盘上放着茶具，白色茶盘中放着几只罗金汉和斯波德牌茶壶。茶盘上还放着一个面包、两瓶果酱和一些看上去不怎么样的廉价点心。
一位头发灰白、体形丰满的中年妇女坐在茶桌边，塞罗科尔德夫人对马普尔小姐说：“简，这是我女儿米尔德里德，你从来没见过她吧。”
米尔德里德•斯垂特是马普尔小姐至今见过的与这幢房子最相衬的人——看上去华贵、有威严。近四十岁的时候，她和一个英国天主教堂的教士结了婚，现在是个寡妇。她的样子和人们想象中的教士遗孀一样：令人尊敬又有些呆板。她是个相貌普通的女人，一张大脸，双眼无神。小时候一定极其普通。
“这是吉娜的丈夫沃利•赫德。”
沃利是个高大的年轻人，头发梳得很整齐，表情却很阴沉。他尴尬地点了点头，然后往嘴里塞了几口蛋糕。
吉娜和斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克一起走了进来，样子非常快乐。
“吉娜为背景处理想出了个天才的点子。”斯蒂芬说，“吉娜，你在舞台设计方面很有一套。”
吉娜笑了笑，显得非常高兴。接着埃德加•劳森走进大厅，坐在刘易斯•塞罗科尔德身旁。吉娜和他说话，他却装模作样不予理会。
马普尔小姐对这些人的关系感到困惑，她很期待回房后能躺下休息一会儿。
＊＊＊
晚饭时又多了一些人。饭桌上多了个不知是精神病大夫还是心理学家的年轻人马弗里克——马普尔小姐也不太明白这两者之间的区别。马弗里克谈的几乎全是他那个行当的术语，马普尔小姐一点都听不懂。另外还有两个戴着眼镜的年轻教师，和一个叫鲍姆加登的职业治疗师。除了这些人以外，吃饭时还有三个面露羞怯的少年犯，这周轮到他们来家里做客。有个金发碧眼的少年犯长得十分可爱，吉娜低声告诉马普尔小姐，他就是用短棒打人的那个孩子。
这顿饭吃得很不对味。烧菜的人马马虎虎，端菜的人也马马虎虎。连大伙穿的衣服都杂七杂八的——贝莱弗小姐穿着黑色的连衣裙；米尔德里德•斯垂特穿着晚礼服，外面套了件羊毛衫；卡莉•路易丝身穿灰色羊毛套装；吉娜穿着农妇装；沃利没换衣服，斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克也一样；埃德加•劳森穿了一套整洁的深蓝色西服；刘易斯•塞罗科尔德穿着传统晚礼服。他吃得很少，几乎没怎么动盘子里的食物。
晚饭后刘易斯•塞罗科尔德和马弗里克医生去了医生办公室。职业治疗师和教师也各自回房了。三个“有案在身”的少年犯回学院去了。吉娜和斯蒂芬去剧院研究吉娜关于背景板的想法。米尔德里德漫无目的地织着衣服，贝莱弗小姐在补袜子。沃利靠在椅子上，一个人发呆。卡莉•路易丝和马普尔小姐谈论着恍若隔世的陈年往事。
只有埃德加•劳森没什么事可干。他一会儿坐下，一会儿站起来，显得焦躁不安。
他大声道：“我不知道该不该去找塞罗科尔德先生，他也许需要我。”
卡莉•路易丝轻声说：“应该不会。他今晚要和马弗里克医生谈一两件事情。”
“我自然不会闯进去！我从来不去那些不需要我的地方。白天去车站就是浪费时间，我根本不知道赫德夫人要去。”
“她应该早点告诉你的，”卡莉•路易丝说，“她也许是在最后一刻才决定去的。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人，她让我显得像个傻瓜！十足的傻瓜！”
“别这样，”卡莉•路易丝笑着说，“千万别这么想。”
“没人需要我，没人要我……这点我很清楚。如果情况有所不同——如果能找到生活中的位置，我的生命将极为不同。没在生活中找到自己的位置不全是我的错……”
“埃德加，”卡莉•路易丝感叹道，“别无缘无故跟自己过不去。简认为你去接她很好。吉娜总是凭着冲动做事——她不是存心想气你。”
“她是存心的。她就是想羞辱我。”
“埃德加——”
“塞罗科尔德夫人，你不了解事情的原委，我只能和你说再见了。”
埃德加走出去，用力甩上了门。
贝莱弗小姐嗤之以鼻道：“真是太粗暴了！”
“他只是有些敏感罢了。”卡莉•路易丝说。
米尔德里德挑了下手中的编织针，声音尖利地说：“这个年轻人太让人讨厌了。妈妈，你不该容忍他这种行为。”
“刘易斯说他也没办法。”
米尔德里德尖声道：“谁都不能那么粗鲁。当然，这事更要怪吉娜。她干什么事都集中不了精力，只会到处惹麻烦。有时她鼓励一个年轻人学好，回头却又马上冷落他。她这样，还能指望其他人怎么样呢？”
这天晚上沃利•赫德第一次开口了。
他说：“他是个疯子。这里全都是疯子！”
晚上，马普尔小姐在卧室里努力回想着石门山庄的状况，心里非常困惑。线索纵横交错——只是很难解释露丝•范•赖多克的不安预感。在马普尔小姐看来，卡莉没被周遭的事所影响。斯蒂芬爱上了吉娜，吉娜可能爱他，也可能不爱。沃利•赫德显然很不开心。这种事很多地方都发生过，没什么大不了的。最糟的莫过于上法庭离婚，双方的生活重新开始——新的纠纷又起。米尔德里德显然妒忌吉娜，也不喜欢她。马普尔小姐觉得这很自然。
她又想了一遍露丝•范•赖多克的话——卡莉•路易丝因为没孩子而失望，她领养了小皮帕，但很快发现自己怀孕了。
马普尔小姐的医生跟她说“这种事时有发生”。压力解除了，自然就会受孕成功。
医生还说这对领养的孩子来说不是件好事。
但现在不是这种情况。古尔布兰森和夫人十分宠爱小皮帕，她在他们心里的地位很牢固，不那么容易被取代。古尔布兰森早就当过父亲，父爱对他而言并非什么新鲜事。卡莉•路易丝渴望做母亲的想法也被皮帕缓和了。她怀孕期间不太顺利，生小孩又难产，吃了不少苦。向来不看重现实的卡莉•路易丝总是抱怨自己的第一次生产。
两个小姑娘一起成长，一个可爱有趣，另一个却沉闷难耐。马普尔小姐觉得这很正常。人们领养孩子时肯定会找个漂亮的。尽管米尔德里德也有可能长得像马丁家族的人，如漂亮的露丝，娇小的卡莉•路易丝，但自然选择却使她的长相更像古尔布兰森一家——高大健壮，样貌普通。
此外，卡莉•路易丝希望领养的孩子不要有自卑感。为了确保这一点，她对皮帕十分娇惯，这对米尔德里德来说很不公平。
皮帕婚后去了意大利，米尔德里德在相当长的一段时间里是家里唯一的孩子。皮帕去世后，卡莉•路易丝带着吉娜回到石门山庄，米尔德里德又一次成了多余的人。之后雷斯塔里克家的儿子们先后成婚。一九三四年米尔德里德与斯垂特教士结婚，他是个比妻子大十五岁的学究，两人在英格兰南部定居。也许这桩婚事使她开心了一些——但这种事谁也说不准。他们没要孩子。现在她又回来了，回到这幢生她养她的房子里。马普尔小姐觉得现在她也不会很开心。
吉娜、斯蒂芬、沃利、米尔德里德和贝莱弗小姐想过上平常的生活，但又没有能力自食其力。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德过得自在而快活。他是个理想主义者，也能够把理想变成现实。马普尔小姐没在这些人的个性里发现露丝所说的危险。卡莉•路易丝生活得很平静，游离于世事之外——她向来如此。露丝觉得哪里不对劲呢？简•马普尔也有这种感觉吗？
处在旋涡外部的有治疗师、教师、真诚可靠的杂工、自信的马弗里克医生、三个目光无邪的少年犯，另外还有埃德加•劳森……
入睡前，马普尔小姐让思绪暂停，回想着这个埃德加•劳森。劳森似乎让她想起了什么。他似乎有点不对头——也许还不止有点。他不那么合群——用“合群”这个词贴切吗？
但再不合群也不会伤及卡莉•路易丝吧？
想到埃德加•劳森，马普尔小姐不禁摇了摇头。
让她担心的远不止这些。
Chapter Five
Five
1G ently eluding her hostess the next morning, Miss Marple went out into the gardens. Their condition distressed her.
They had once been an ambitiously set-out achievement. Clumps of rhododendrons, smooth slopes of lawn, massedborders of herbaceous plants, clipped box-hedges surrounding a formal rose garden. Now all was largely derelict, thelawns raggedly mown, the borders full of weeds with tangled flowers struggling through them, the paths moss-coveredand neglected. The kitchen gardens on the other hand, enclosed by red brick walls, were prosperous and well stocked.
That, presumably, was because they had a utility value. So, also, a large portion of what had once been lawn andflower garden, was now fenced off and laid out in tennis courts and a bowling green.
Surveying the herbaceous border, Miss Marple clicked her tongue vexedly and pulled up a flourishing plant ofgroundsel.
As she stood with it in her hand, Edgar Lawson came into view. Seeing Miss Marple, he stopped and hesitated.
Miss Marple had no mind to let him escape. She called him briskly. When he came she asked him if he knew whereany gardening tools were kept.
Edgar said vaguely that there was a gardener somewhere who would know.
“It’s such a pity to see this border so neglected,” twittered Miss Marple. “I’m so fond of gardens.” And since it wasnot her intention that Edgar should go in search of any necessary implement she went on quickly:
“It’s about all an old and useless woman can find to do. Now I don’t suppose you ever bother your head aboutgardens, Mr. Lawson. You have so much real and important work to do. Being in a responsible position here, with Mr.
Serrocold. You must find it all most interesting.”
He answered quickly, almost eagerly:
“Yes—yes—it is interesting.”
“And you must be of the greatest assistance to Mr. Serrocold.”
His face darkened.
“I don’t know. I can’t be sure. It’s what’s behind it all—”
He broke off. Miss Marple watched him thoughtfully. A pathetic undersized young man, in a neat dark suit. Ayoung man that few people would look at twice, or remember if they did look….
There was a garden seat nearby and Miss Marple drifted towards it and sat. Edgar stood frowning in front of her.
“I’m sure,” said Miss Marple brightly, “that Mr. Serrocold relies on you a great deal.”
“I don’t know,” said Edgar. “I really don’t know.” He frowned and almost absently sat down beside her. “I’m in avery difficult position.”
“Yes?” said Miss Marple.
The young man Edgar sat staring in front of him.
“This is all highly confidential,” he said suddenly.
“Of course,” said Miss Marple.
“If I had my rights—”
“Yes?”
“I might as well tell you … you won’t let it go any further I’m sure?”
“Oh no.” She noticed he did not wait for her disclaimer.
“My father—actually, my father is a very important man.”
This time there was no need to say anything. She had only to listen.
“Nobody knows except Mr. Serrocold. You see, it might prejudice my father’s position if the story got out.” Heturned to her. He smiled. A sad, dignified smile. “You see, I’m Winston Churchill’s son.”
“Oh,” said Miss Marple. “I see.”
And she did see. She remembered a rather sad story in St. Mary Mead—and the way it had gone.
Edgar Lawson went on, and what he said had the familiarity of a stage scene.
“There were reasons. My mother wasn’t free. Her own husband was in an asylum—there could be no divorce—noquestion of marriage. I don’t really blame them. At least, I think I don’t … He’s done, always, everything he could.
Discreetly, of course. And that’s where the trouble has arisen. He’s got enemies—and they’re against me, too. They’vemanaged to keep us apart. They watch me. Wherever I go, they spy on me. And they make things go wrong for me.”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“Dear, dear,” she said.
“In London I was studying to be a doctor. They tampered with my exams—they altered the answers. They wantedme to fail. They followed me about the streets. They told things about me to my landlady. They hound me wherever Igo.”
“Oh, but you can’t be sure of that,” said Miss Marple soothingly.
“I tell you I know! Oh they’re very cunning. I never get a glimpse of them or find out who they are. But I shall findout … Mr. Serrocold took me away from London and brought me down here. He was kind—very kind. But even here,you know, I’m not safe. They’re here, too. Working against me. Making the others dislike me. Mr. Serrocold says thatisn’t true—but Mr. Serrocold doesn’t know. Or else—I wonder—sometimes I’ve thought—”
He broke off. He got up.
“This is all confidential,” he said. “You do understand that, don’t you? But if you notice anyone following me—spying, I mean—you might let me know who it is!”
He went away, then—neat, pathetic, insignificant. Miss Marple watched him and wondered….
A voice spoke.
“Nuts,” it said. “Just nuts.”
Walter Hudd was standing beside her. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and he was frowning as he staredafter Edgar’s retreating figure.
“What kind of a joint is this, anyway?” he said. “They’re all bughouse, the whole lot of them.”
Miss Marple said nothing and Walter went on.
“That Edgar guy—what do you make of him? Says his father’s really Lord Montgomery. Doesn’t seem likely tome! Not Monty! Not from all I’ve heard about him.”
“No,” said Miss Marple. “It doesn’t seem very likely.”
“He told Gina something quite different—some bunk about being really the heir to the Russian throne—said hewas some Grand Duke’s son or other. Hell, doesn’t the chap know who his father really was?”
“I should imagine not,” said Miss Marple. “That is probably just the trouble.”
Walter sat down beside her, dropping his body onto the seat with a slack movement. He repeated his formerstatement.
“They’re all bughouse here.”
“You don’t like being at Stonygates?”
The young man frowned.
“I simply don’t get it—that’s all! I don’t get it. Take this place—the house—the whole setup. They’re rich, thesepeople. They don’t need dough—they’ve got it. And look at the way they live. Cracked antique china and cheap plainstuff all mixed up. No proper upper class servants—just some casual hired help. Tapestries and drapes and chaircoversall satin and brocade and stuff—and it’s falling to pieces! Big silver tea urns and what do you know—all yellow andtarnished for want of cleaning. Mrs. Serrocold just doesn’t care. Look at that dress she had on last night. Darned underthe arms, nearly worn out—and yet she could go to a store and order what she liked. Bond Street or whatever it is.
Dough? They’re rolling in dough.”
He paused and sat, deliberating.
“I understand being poor. There’s nothing much wrong with it. If you’re young and strong and ready to work. Inever had much money, but I was all set to get where I wanted. I was going to open a garage. I’d got a bit of moneyput by. I talked to Gina about it. She listened. She seemed to understand. I didn’t know much about her. All those girlsin uniform, they look about the same. I mean you can’t tell from looking at them who’s got dough and who hasn’t. Ithought she was a cut above me, perhaps, education and all that. But it didn’t seem to matter. We fell for each other.
We got married. I’d got my bit put by and Gina had some too, she told me. We were going to set up a gas station backhome—Gina was willing. Just a couple of crazy kids we were—mad about each other. Then that snooty aunt of Gina’sstarted making trouble … And Gina wanted to come here to England to see her grandmother. Well, that seemed fairenough. It was her home, and I was curious to see England anyway. I’d heard a lot about it. So we came. Just a visit—that’s what I thought.”
The frown became a scowl.
“But it hasn’t turned out like that. We’re caught up in this crazy business. Why don’t we stay here—make ourhome here—that’s what they say. Plenty of jobs for me. Jobs! I don’t want a job feeding candy to gangster kids andhelping them play at kids’ games … what’s the sense of it all? This place could be swell—really swell—don’t peoplewho’ve got money understand their luck? Don’t they understand that most of the world can’t have a swell place likethis and that they’ve got one? Isn’t it plain crazy to kick your luck when you’ve got it? I don’t mind working if I’vegot to. But I’ll work the way I like and at what I like—and I’ll work to get somewhere. This place makes me feel I’mtangled up in a spider’s web. And Gina—I can’t make Gina out. She’s not the same girl I married over in the States. Ican’t—dang it all—I can’t even talk to her now. Oh hell!”
Miss Marple said gently:
“I quite see your point of view.”
Wally shot a swift glance at her.
“You’re the only one I’ve shot my mouth off to so far. Most of the time I shut up like a clam. Don’t know what it isabout you—you’re English right enough, really English—but in the durndest way you remind me of my aunt Betsyback home.”
“Now that’s very nice.”
“A lot of sense she had,” Wally continued reflectively. “Looked as frail as though you could snap her in two, butactually she was tough—yes, sir, I’ll say she was tough.”
He got up.
“Sorry talking to you this way,” he apologised. For the first time, Miss Marple saw him smile. It was a veryattractive smile and Wally Hudd was suddenly transfigured from an awkward sulky boy into a handsome andappealing young man. “Had to get things off my chest, I suppose. But too bad picking on you.”
“Not at all, my dear boy,” said Miss Marple. “I have a nephew of my own—only, of course, a great deal older thanyou are.”
Her mind dwelt for a moment on the sophisticated modern writer Raymond West. A greater contrast to WalterHudd could not have been imagined.
“You’ve got other company coming,” said Walter Hudd. “That dame doesn’t like me. So I’ll quit. So long, ma’am.
Thanks for the talk.”
He strode away and Miss Marple watched Mildred Strete coming across the lawn to join her.
2“I see you’ve been victimised by that terrible young man,” said Mrs. Strete, rather breathlessly, as she sank down onthe seat. “What a tragedy that is.”
“A tragedy?”
“Gina’s marriage. It all came about from sending her off to America. I told Mother at the time it was most unwise.
After all, this is quite a quiet district. We had hardly any raids here. I do so dislike the way many people gave way topanic about their families—and themselves, too, very often.”
“It must have been difficult to decide what was right to do,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “Where children wereconcerned, I mean. With the prospect of possible invasion, it might have meant their being brought up under a Germanregime—as well as the danger of bombs.”
“All nonsense,” said Mrs. Strete. “I never had the least doubt that we should win. But Mother has always beenquite unreasonable where Gina is concerned. The child was always spoilt and indulged in every way. There wasabsolutely no need to take her away from Italy in the first place.”
“Her father raised no objection, I understand?”
“Oh San Severiano! You know what Italians are. Nothing matters to them but money. He married Pippa for hermoney, of course.”
“Dear me. I always understood he was very devoted to her and was quite inconsolable at her death.”
“He pretended to be, no doubt. Why Mother ever countenanced her marrying a foreigner, I can’t imagine. Just theusual American pleasure in a title, I suppose.”
Miss Marple said mildly:
“I have always thought that dear Carrie Louise was almost too unworldly in her attitude to life.”
“Oh I know. I’ve no patience with it. Mother’s fads and whims and idealistic projects. You’ve no idea, Aunt Jane,of all that it has meant. I can speak with knowledge, of course. I was brought up in the middle of it all.”
It was with a very faint shock that Miss Marple heard herself addressed as Aunt Jane. And yet that had been theconvention of those times. Her Christmas presents to Carrie Louise’s children were always labelled “With love fromAunt Jane” and as “Aunt Jane” they thought of her, when they thought of her at all. Which was not, Miss Marplesupposed, very often.
She looked thoughtfully at the middle-aged woman sitting beside her. At the pursed tight mouth, the deep linesfrom the nose down, the hands tightly pressed together.
She said gently:
“You must have had—a difficult childhood.”
Mildred Strete turned eager grateful eyes to her.
“Oh I’m so glad that somebody appreciates that. People don’t really know what children go through. Pippa, yousee, was the pretty one. She was older than I was, too. It was always she who got all the attention. Both Father andMother encouraged her to push herself forward—not that she needed any encouragement—to show off. I was alwaysthe quiet one. I was shy—Pippa didn’t know what shyness was. A child can suffer a great deal, Aunt Jane.”
“I know that,” said Miss Marple.
“‘Mildred’s so stupid’—that’s what Pippa used to say. But I was younger than she was. Naturally I couldn’t beexpected to keep up with her in lessons. And it’s very unfair on a child when her sister is always put in front of her.
“‘What a lovely little girl,’ people used to say to Mamma. They never noticed me. And it was Pippa that Papa usedto joke and play with. Someone ought to have seen how hard it was on me. All the notice and attention going to her. Iwasn’t old enough to realise that it’s character that matters.”
Her lips trembled, then hardened again.
“And it was unfair—really unfair—I was their own child. Pippa was only adopted. I was the daughter of the house.
She was—nobody.”
“Probably they were extra indulgent to her on that account,” said Miss Marple.
“They liked her best,” said Mildred Strete. And added: “A child whose own parents didn’t want her—or moreprobably illegitimate.”
She went on:
“It’s come out in Gina. There’s bad blood there. Blood will tell. Lewis can have what theories he likes aboutenvironment. Bad blood does tell. Look at Gina.”
“Gina is a very lovely girl,” said Miss Marple.
“Hardly in behaviour,” said Mrs. Strete. “Everyone but Mother notices how she is carrying on with StephenRestarick. Quite disgusting, I call it. Admittedly she made a very unfortunate marriage, but marriage is marriage andone should be prepared to abide by it. After all, she chose to marry that dreadful young man.”
“Is he so dreadful?”
“Oh dear, Aunt Jane! He really looks to me quite like a gangster. And so surly and rude. He hardly opens hismouth. And he always looks so dirty and uncouth.”
“He is unhappy, I think,” said Miss Marple mildly.
“I really don’t know why he should be—apart from Gina’s behaviour, I mean. Everything has been done for himhere. Lewis has suggested several ways in which he could try to make himself useful—but he prefers to skulk aboutdoing nothing.” She burst out, “Oh this whole place is impossible—quite impossible. Lewis thinks of nothing butthese horrible young criminals. And Mother thinks of nothing but him. Everything Lewis does is right. Look at thestate of the garden—the weeds—the overgrowth. And the house—nothing properly done. Oh, I know a domestic staffis difficult nowadays, but it can be got. It’s not as though there were any shortage of money. It’s just that nobodycares. If it were my house—” She stopped.
“I’m afraid,” said Miss Marple, “that we have all to face the fact that conditions are different. These largeestablishments are a great problem. It must be sad for you, in a way, to come back here and find everything sodifferent. Do you really prefer living here to—well—somewhere of your own?”
Mildred Strete flushed.
“After all, it’s my home,” she said. “It was my father’s house. Nothing can alter that. I’ve a right to be here if Ichoose. And I do choose. If only Mother were not so impossible! She won’t even buy herself proper clothes. It worriesJolly a lot.”
“I was going to ask you about Miss Bellever.”
“Such a comfort having her here. She adores Mother. She’s been with her a long time now—she came in JohnRestarick’s time. And was wonderful, I believe, during the whole sad business. I expect you heard that he ran awaywith a dreadful Yugoslavian woman—a most abandoned creature. She’s had any amount of lovers, I believe. Motherwas very fine and dignified about it all. Divorced him as quietly as possible. Even went so far as to have the Restarickboys for their holidays—quite unnecessary, really, other arrangements could have been made. It would have beenunthinkable, of course, to have let them go to their father and that woman. Anyway, Mother had them here … AndMiss Bellever stood by all through things and was a tower of strength. I sometimes think she makes Mother even morevague than she need be, by doing all the practical things herself. But I really don’t know what Mother would dowithout her.”
She paused and then remarked in a tone of surprise:
“Here is Lewis. How odd. He seldom comes out in the garden.”
Mr. Serrocold came towards them in the same single-minded way that he did everything. He appeared not to noticeMildred, because it was only Miss Marple who was in his mind.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to take you round our institution and show you everything. Caroline asked me to.
Unfortunately I have to go off to Liverpool. The case of that boy and the railways parcels office. But Maverick willtake you. He’ll be here in a few minutes. I shan’t be back until the day after tomorrow. It will be splendid if we can getthem not to prosecute.”
Mildred Strete got up and walked away. Lewis Serrocold did not notice her go. His earnest eyes gazed at MissMarple through thick glasses.
“You see,” he said, “the Magistrates nearly always take the wrong view. Sometimes they’re too severe, butsometimes they’re too lenient. If these boys get a sentence of a few months it’s no deterrent—they get a kind of a kickout of it, even. Boast about it to their girlfriends. But a severe sentence often sobers them. They realise that the gameisn’t worth it. Or else it’s better not to serve a prison sentence at all. Corrective training—constructional training likewe have here.”
Miss Marple burst firmly into speech.
“Mr. Serrocold,” she said. “Are you quite satisfied about young Mr. Lawson? Is he—is he quite normal?”
A disturbed expression appeared on Lewis Serrocold’s face.
“I do hope he’s not relapsing. What has he been saying?”
“He told me that he was Winston Churchill’s son—”
“Of course—of course. The usual statements. He’s illegitimate, as you’ve probably guessed, poor lad, and of veryhumble beginnings. He was a case recommended to me by a society in London. He’d assaulted a man in the street whohe said was spying on him. All very typical—Dr. Maverick will tell you. I went into his case history. Mother was of apoor class but a respectable family in Plymouth. Father a sailor—she didn’t even know his name … child brought upin difficult circumstances. Started romancing about his father and later about himself. Wore uniform and decorationshe wasn’t entitled to—all quite typical. But Maverick considers the prognosis hopeful. If we can give him confidencein himself. I’ve given him responsibility here, tried to make him appreciate that it’s not a man’s birth that matters, butwhat he is. I’ve tried to give him confidence in his own ability. The improvement was marked. I was very happy abouthim. And now you say—”
He shook his head.
“Mightn’t he be dangerous, Mr. Serrocold?”
“Dangerous? I don’t think he has shown any suicidal tendencies.”
“I wasn’t thinking of suicide. He talked to me of enemies—of persecution. Isn’t that, forgive me—a dangeroussign?”
“I don’t really think it has reached such a pitch. But I’ll speak to Maverick. So far, he has been hopeful—veryhopeful.”
He looked at his watch.
“I must go. Ah, here is our dear Jolly. She will take charge of you.”
Miss Bellever, arriving briskly, said, “The car is at the door, Mr. Serrocold. Dr. Maverick rang through from theInstitute. I said I would bring Miss Marple over. He will meet us at the gates.”
“Thank you. I must go. My briefcase?”
“In the car, Mr. Serrocold.”
Lewis Serrocold hurried away. Looking after him, Miss Bellever said:
“Someday that man will drop down dead in his tracks. It’s against human nature never to relax or rest. He onlysleeps four hours a night.”
“He is very devoted to this cause,” said Miss Marple.
“Never thinks of anything else,” said Miss Bellever grimly. “Never dreams of looking after his wife or consideringher in any way. She’s a sweet creature, as you know, Miss Marple, and she ought to have love and attention. Butnothing’s thought of or considered here except a lot of whining boys and young men who want to live easily anddishonestly and don’t care about the idea of doing a little hard work. What about the decent boys from decent homes?
Why isn’t something done for them? Honesty just isn’t interesting to cranks like Mr. Serrocold and Dr. Maverick andall the bunch of half-baked sentimentalists we’ve got here. I and my brothers were brought up the hard way, MissMarple, and we weren’t encouraged to whine. Soft, that’s what the world is nowadays!”
They had crossed the garden and passed through a palisaded gate and had come to the entrance gate which EricGulbrandsen had erected as an entrance to his College, a sturdily built, hideous, red brick building.
Dr. Maverick, looking, Miss Marple decided, distinctly abnormal himself, came out to meet them.
“Thank you, Miss Bellever,” he said. “Now, Miss—er—oh yes, Miss Marple—I’m sure you’re going to beinterested in what we’re doing here. In our splendid approach to this great problem. Mr. Serrocold is a man of greatinsight—great vision. And we’ve got Sir John Stillwell behind us—my old chief. He was at the Home Office until heretired, and his influence turned the scales in getting this started. It’s a medical problem—that’s what we’ve got to getthe legal authorities to understand. Psychiatry came into its own in the war. The one positive good that did come out ofit—Now first of all I want you to see our initial approach to the problem. Look up—”
Miss Marple looked up at the words carved over the large arched doorway.
RECOVER HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE
“Isn’t that splendid? Isn’t that just the right note to strike? You don’t want to scold these lads—or punish them. That’swhat they’re hankering after half the time, punishment. We want to make them feel what fine fellows they are.”
“Like Edgar Lawson?” said Miss Marple.
“Interesting case, that. Have you been talking to him?”
“He has been talking to me,” said Miss Marple. She added apologetically, “I wondered if, perhaps, he isn’t a littlemad?”
Dr. Maverick laughed cheerfully.
“We’re all mad, dear lady,” he said as he ushered her in through the door. “That’s the secret of existence. We’re alla little mad.”
第五章
第二天一早，马普尔小姐避开女主人独自走进花园。花园里的情景让她很沮丧。这里刚建好时一定非常漂亮：一簇簇杜鹃花，坡形的平整草坪，草本植物丛，被篱笆包围的玫瑰花坛。现在的花园则一片萧瑟。草地上长满了参差不齐的杂草，杂草间夹杂着些无名的野花，花园里的小路上长满了苔藓。这个花园显然很长时间没人照看了。花园对面是个围着红墙的菜园，菜园里的蔬菜长得非常好，菜地也打理得不错。这也许是因为菜园更有实用价值的缘故吧。另外，草坪中有一块被改建成了网球场和滚木球场地。
看着这个没人料理的花园，马普尔小姐不安地咋了咋舌，顺手揪起一把长势旺盛的野草。
还没来得及放下手中的杂草，埃德加•劳森已闯入她的视野。看见马普尔小姐，埃德加•劳森停下脚步，显得有些迟疑。马普尔小姐抓住这个机会，向他表示问候。埃德加•劳森见状走了过来，马普尔小姐问他是否知道整理花园的工具放在哪儿。
埃德加说附近有个园丁，园丁应该知道工具在哪儿。
“荒废成这样真是太令人遗憾了。”马普尔小姐低声说，“我很喜欢花园。”她不想让埃德加去找工具，赶忙接着说，“上了年纪的老太太只能拾掇拾掇花园。劳森先生，你有太多重要的工作，从没想过要整理花园吧？和塞罗科尔德先生共事一定非常有趣，是吗？”
他答复得非常快，似乎有点急切。
“对，很有趣。”
“你一定对塞罗科尔德先生帮助很大。”
他的脸色阴沉下来。
“这我不清楚。看他怎么想了……”
他沉默了。马普尔小姐若有所思地看着他。劳森穿着不合身的西装，神情忧郁，没人会看他第二眼，即使看了也不会留下什么印象。
花园里有把供人休息的长椅，马普尔小姐走过去坐下。埃德加皱着眉头站在她面前。
马普尔小姐爽朗地说：“想必塞罗科尔德先生一定很依赖你。”
埃德加说：“我不知道，我真的不知道。”他皱着眉，心不在焉地坐在她身旁，“我的地位非常尴尬。”
“这是自然。”马普尔小姐说。
埃德加出神地望着前方。
“都是些高度机密的事情。”他突然说。
“当然了。”马普尔小姐说。
“如果我有权——”
“怎么了？”
“也许可以跟你说……你不会传出去吧？”
“当然不会。”马普尔小姐注意到埃德加没等她否认。
“我父亲其实是个大人物。”
无须再说什么了，马普尔小姐要做的只是认真聆听。
“除了塞罗科尔德先生没人知道。万一传出去，会给我父亲惹麻烦的。”他看着马普尔小姐笑了笑，一个伤感而高贵的笑，“事实上，我是温斯顿•丘吉尔的儿子。”
马普尔小姐说：“原来是这样啊。”
她的确明白了。她想起了圣玛丽米德村发生过一件令人伤心的事及其可怕的结果。
埃德加•劳森说个不停，那些话好似舞台上演出的一幕幕戏剧。
“之所以有今天是由很多原因造成的。我妈妈生活得很不自由，她丈夫进了疯人院，她不能离婚，也就没了再婚的可能性。我不怨他们。至少，我想我不会……他已经尽了全力。当然有些过于小心。问题便因此而起，他树敌不少——这些人同时也敌视我，他们不让我和他接触，还密切监视着我。我走到哪儿他们就跟到哪儿，还总制造麻烦。”
马普尔小姐摇了摇头。
“真是太可怜了。”她说。
“我曾在伦敦学医。他们改了我的考卷——把答案都改了，他们要我不及格。他们在街上跟踪我，在我房东面前搬弄是非，无论到哪儿都缠着我不放。”
“但你无法确定，是吗？”马普尔小姐心平气和地问。
“我就是知道！他们非常狡猾。我无法看到他们，也不知道他们是谁。但我一定会弄个水落石出……塞罗科尔德先生把我从伦敦带到这儿。他人很好——非常好。但这里也不安全。他们也在这儿，和我对着干，让别人讨厌我。塞罗科尔德先生说这不是真的——但他什么都不知道。或许——有时我会想——”
他闭上嘴站起身。
“这些都是秘密，”他说，“你明白这点，对吗？如果发现有人跟踪我——盯我的梢，你也许能告诉我那是谁。”
埃德加就这样忧郁地走了。马普尔小姐看着他的背影陷入了沉思……“疯子，”身旁响起一个声音，“真是一派疯言。”
沃尔特•赫德出现在马普尔小姐身旁。他双手插在口袋里，皱起眉头看着埃德加走远的身影。
他说：“这是什么地方？简直是疯人院，全都是些疯子。”
马普尔小姐没吭声，沃尔特又说：“你觉得他怎么样？他说他爸是蒙哥马利勋爵。我看不可能，完全不可能！我听说的根本不是这么回事。”
“是啊，”马普尔小姐说，“的确不太可能。”
“他对吉娜说的是另一套——说他是俄国皇位的继承人，说他是公爵的儿子什么的。老天，他真的连自己的父亲是谁都不知道吗？”
“我认为他不知道，”马普尔小姐说，“这就是问题所在。”
沃尔特坐在她身边，慵懒地靠在椅子上，又重复了一遍刚才说的话。
“这里全都是些疯子。”
“你不喜欢住在石门山庄吗？”
年轻人皱起眉头。
“我只是弄不懂，我不明白为什么会这样。看看这个地方——这幢房子，这里所有的一切。这些人有钱。他们不缺钱，但看看他们过的日子，到处是有裂缝的瓷器和不值钱的物件，连个固定的帮佣也没有——只是雇了些人帮忙。壁毯、窗帘、坐垫确实是绸子的，可都破烂不堪！银质茶壶已发黑生锈，需要清洗。塞罗科尔德夫人什么都不在乎。看看她昨晚穿的那身衣服。胳膊下面打了补丁，破了还在穿。她可以到店里想买什么就买什么，去邦德大街或别的什么地方都行。钱？他们还在乎钱吗？”
他停下话头，坐在椅子上深思起来。
“我知道受穷的滋味。那没什么不好。年轻力壮时肯干活就可以不受穷。我没多少钱，但能得到自己想要的，我要开个修车厂。我攒了点钱，和吉娜说过这事，她听了我的话，似乎明白我的意思。那时我不大了解她。穿军服的女孩看上去都一样。我是说看不出她们谁穷谁富。我认为她比我强，受的教育多些。但这并不重要。我们彼此倾心，后来结了婚。我有点钱，她告诉我她也有一些。我们回去要开个加油站——吉娜同意我的想法。我们深爱着彼此。但吉娜的势利眼姑婆却想从中作梗……这次吉娜说要来英国看她外婆，这很在理，这里是她家，再说我也想见识见识英国，我总听人说起这里。只是来看看——至少我原先是这么想的。”
他眉头越皱越紧，后来完全发怒了。
“结果根本不是那么回事。我们被这个可怕的地方缠住了。你们干吗不待在这儿——在这里成家立业？——他们竟这么说。我能干的工作有的是。工作？！我不要这里的工作，给那些小无赖糖吃，和他们玩游戏……这些有什么意义呢？这个地方的确很不错——真的不错。难道他们不知道世界上的大多数人并没有这么好的地方住吗？难道他们不知道自己非常走运吗？走运却不珍惜，这不是疯子吗？工作我不介意，但我希望以喜欢的方式去做自己喜欢的事——我会有所成就的。这地方总让我觉得像被困在了蜘蛛网上。吉娜——我弄不明白她。她不再是在美国和我结婚的那个女孩了。我没办法——没办法跟她交谈。真他妈的该死！”
马普尔小姐轻声说：“我理解你的想法。”
沃利飞快地扫了她一眼。
“你是迄今为止唯一能和我交心的人。平时我像个蛤蜊一样沉默不语。我不知道你是个什么样的人——只知道你是英国人——真正的英国人。但不知为何，你总让我想起远在家乡的贝特茜姨妈。”
“这非常好。”
“她很有主见。”沃利沉思着说，“虽然看上去瘦得弱不禁风，但其实非常坚强。是的，夫人，我觉得她非常坚强。”
他站起身。
“抱歉以这种方式和你说话。”他道了歉。马普尔小姐第一次见他笑，动人的笑容使沃利•赫德突然从沉闷乏味的男孩变成一个英俊可人的年轻小伙子。“我必须找个人一吐为快。但对你唠叨不太好。”
“亲爱的孩子，没关系，”马普尔小姐说，“我有个外甥——不过比你大多了。”
她的思绪转移到世故而时髦的外甥，作家雷蒙德•韦斯特身上。韦斯特和赫德有着极大的反差。
“又有人来找你了，”沃尔特说，“那家伙不喜欢我。我走了，夫人。谢谢你和我聊天。”
他快步离去。马普尔小姐看到米尔德里德穿过草坪朝她走来。
斯垂特夫人坐下来，上气不接下气地对马普尔小姐说：“我看见那个可怕的家伙在烦你。真是个天大的悲剧！”
“什么悲剧？”
“我是说吉娜的婚姻。真不该送她去美国。我当时就告诉我妈不该那么做。不管怎么说，这是个僻静的小地方，几乎没有罪案发生。我讨厌那些对家庭和自身不满的人，但现在这样的人太多了。”
马普尔小姐若有所思地说：“在孩子的问题上，很难说怎样做算对。在德国人随时可能入侵的情况下，还是把他们送走为好——留在这里会受到炸弹的威胁。”
“别胡扯了，”斯垂特夫人说，“我们肯定会取得最终的胜利。我妈在吉娜的问题上总是很不理智。那孩子被惯坏了，一直很任性。根本没必要把她从意大利叫回来。”
“她父亲没反对吗？”
“你是说桑•塞维里诺吗？意大利人就那副德行。他们只关心钱，别的都是次要的。他和皮帕结婚只是为了钱。”
“唉……我还以为他非常爱她，在她死后悲痛不已呢。”
“那无疑是装的。我真不明白妈为什么同意皮帕嫁个外国人。多半是美国人所谓的豁达在作祟吧。”
马普尔小姐缓缓地说：“我一直觉得卡莉•路易丝的生活态度太天真了。”
“我知道你的意思。这点让我很受不了。妈妈喜欢追求时尚，做人过于理想化。简姨妈，你根本不知道这意味着什么。我的话都有凭有据，我就是在她的异想天开中长大的。”
头一次听见有人称她“简姨妈”，马普尔小姐略微有些吃惊。不过这是当时的习俗，她送给卡莉•路易丝家孩子们的圣诞礼物上写着“简姨妈爱你们”，于是他们就把她叫成姨妈——如果有人还会想起她。马普尔小姐觉得孩子们多半不会想起她。
她看着身边的中年女性陷入了沉思。后者双唇紧闭，鼻子下面有几道很深的法令纹，双手紧握在一起。
她轻声问：“你的童年一定很不顺吧？”
米尔德里德热切地看着她。
“能得到理解真是太让人高兴了。人们往往不知道孩子都经历了些什么。皮帕比我漂亮，还比我大，总是大家注意的焦点。她不需要鼓励就已经够出众了，但爸妈却还是鼓励她突出自己。我比较害羞——皮帕根本不知道什么是害羞。简姨妈，孩子在这种情况下通常会受到极大的伤害。”
“我了解。”马普尔小姐说。
“‘米尔德里德真笨’，皮帕常把这句话挂在嘴边。我比她小，自然不能指望功课和她一样好。过于突出姐姐，对妹妹很不公平。”
“‘多可爱的小女孩啊。’人们会这么对妈妈说，但从来不会注意我。父亲也爱和皮帕嬉戏玩耍。应该有人体会到我的不易。所有的关心和注意都给了她。当时我还太小，意识不到性格养成的重要性。”
她的嘴唇颤抖，之后语气重新强硬起来。
“这不公平——太不公平了——我也是他们的孩子。皮帕是领养的。我才是他们亲生的，她什么也不是。”
“也许正因为这样他们才对她过分娇惯。”
“他们只喜欢皮帕。”米尔德里德•斯垂特说。然后她又补充道：“哪有父母不喜欢自己的孩子的——真是太不合理了。”
她接着说：“然后这一切又延续到了吉娜身上，她骨子里也不是什么好东西，真是一脉相承啊。刘易斯可以有他那套关于环境的说法，但血脉总能说明问题。看看吉娜吧。”
“她是个可爱的姑娘。”马普尔小姐说。
斯垂特夫人说：“行为上可不是。除我妈外，谁都看得出她和斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克的关系。太恶心了，我承认她的婚姻的确不幸，但婚姻毕竟是婚姻，人必须忠于自己的配偶。
无论如何，她已经和那个讨厌的年轻人结了婚。”
“他很可怕吗？”
“亲爱的简姨妈！他看上去简直像个歹徒。乖戾无礼，几乎不开口说话，粗俗又没教养。”
“我想他只是不开心罢了。”马普尔小姐温和地说。
“真不明白他为什么整天阴着脸——除了吉娜的不检点之外，该做的我们都为他做了。
刘易斯提出了好几种让他发挥作用的办法，但他就是装模作样，什么也不干。”她突然大声说，“这个地方真让人受不了，太让人受不了了。刘易斯一门心思只想着那些年轻人，别的什么也不想。而我母亲只想着刘易斯。他做什么都对。看看这个花园，杂草丛生；还有这幢房子，该做的几乎都没做。我知道现在找用人不容易，但想找总能找到。这不是钱的问题，问题是没人管。如果这是我家——”她打住话头。
马普尔小姐说：“我们必须面对时过境迁的境遇。这个大宅子的确存在很多问题。你对这个已经几乎不认识的家一定感到非常伤心。你真的喜欢住在这里吗？——有个自己的家会更好吧？”
米尔德里德脸红了。
“怎么说这里都是我家，”她说，“是我爸爸的家。没人能改变这一点。只要愿意，我就可以住在这里。我就要住在这里。要是妈妈没那么不可救药该有多好呀！她都不肯给自己买身合适的衣服。乔利为此十分发愁。”
“我正想问你关于贝莱弗小姐的事呢。”
“有她在简直是太好了。她敬重妈妈，服侍妈妈很长时间了——她是约翰尼•雷斯塔里克在的时候来的，在那件令人伤心的事中给了妈妈很多安慰。约翰尼和南斯拉夫女人跑了的事你知道吧——那个放荡的女人有很多情人。母亲平静又有风度，尽量不声不响地和他离了婚。甚至还让雷斯塔里克家的儿子们来这里度假，其实真没必要，完全可以做些别的安排。当然，让他们去找父亲和那个南斯拉夫女人不太妥当。无论如何，妈妈接纳了他们……贝莱弗小姐历经了所有这些事后，性格依旧刚强。有时我觉得她操心的事情太多，反而让妈妈显得很软弱。但我真不知没有她妈妈会怎样。”
她顿了一下，然后用惊讶的口气说：“刘易斯来了，真奇怪，他很少来花园的。”
塞罗科尔德先生带着一贯的专注神情朝她们走来。他像是没注意到米尔德里德似的，一心只想着马普尔小姐。
他说：“真是太抱歉了。我本想带你四处转转，看看这个机构。卡罗琳让我带你参观参观。但不巧，我要去利物浦处理一个孩子和铁路包裹房的事。我让马弗里克带你转转吧，他马上就来。我后天才能回来。如果能阻止他们起诉就太好了。”
米尔德里德起身离开。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德没在意她，他的目光透过厚厚的玻璃镜片死死地盯着马普尔小姐。
他说：“地方法官们的视角总是不太对。有时他们太严厉，有时又判得太轻。对小伙子们来说，判几个月的刑倒也无关紧要，他们甚至觉得这样很刺激，可以对女朋友吹嘘一番。但判刑过重他们就会一蹶不振，后悔那么做太不值当。当然别坐牢最好。矫正性训练——让他们做些有助于身心的训练，比如我们这儿做的——”
马普尔小姐打断了他的话，她问：“塞罗科尔德先生，你对年轻的劳森先生满意吗？他——这个人正常吗？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德的脸上浮现出不快的神情。
“真希望他没犯老毛病。他说了些什么吗？”
“他说他是温斯顿•丘吉尔的儿子。”
“又是老一套。你大概猜出他是个私生子了吧，他很可怜，出身卑微。一个伦敦的社团把他的案子交给我。他说大街上有个男人在监视他，便袭击了那个人。他的案子具有典型意义——马弗里克大夫会把具体情况告诉你的。我查过他的案宗。他母亲生于普利茅斯一个贫穷但受人尊敬的家庭，父亲是个水手，她甚至不知道他的名字。孩子是在十分艰苦的条件下养大的。年少时他便对父亲的身份想入非非，后来产生了幻觉，开始穿与他无关的制服、戴很多勋章——这种行为非常具有典型意义。马弗里克医生认为这种症状还有救，前提是得让他建立起自信。我让他负责一些事，想让他明白重要的不是出身而是能力。我努力帮助他树立自信心。他的进步也非常明显，我替他高兴。但你现在却说——”
他叹息着摇了摇头。
“塞罗科尔德先生，他会是个危险人物吗？”
“危险？他并没表现出任何自杀的倾向啊。”
“我不是指自杀。他和我谈起一些敌人，一些迫害他的敌人。请原谅我，但我认为这是个危险的信号，你说是吗？”
“我想没那么严重。不过我会和马弗里克谈谈，迄今为止他一直有望恢复——很有希望。”
他看了看表。
“我必须走了。亲爱的乔利过来了，她会照顾好你的。”
贝莱弗小姐轻盈地走了过来，她说：“塞罗科尔德先生，接你的车停在门口了。马弗里克大夫从学院打来电话，我告诉他我会带马普尔小姐过去，他会在门口接我们。”
“多谢。我得走了，我的手提箱呢？”
“在车里，塞罗科尔德先生。”
刘易斯匆匆地走远了。贝莱弗小姐看着他的背影说：“总有一天这个人会栽倒在事业上。人总要放松和休息一会儿，可他一天只睡四个小时。”
马普尔小姐说：“他确实全情投入在事业之中。”
贝莱弗小姐忧心忡忡地应道：“其他什么都不想。从来没想到要照顾妻子，也从来没替她想过任何事。马普尔小姐，他妻子是个十分可爱的人，应当得到爱和关心。但在这里，人们都只想着那些爱发牢骚、贪图轻松生活、靠欺诈为生的年轻人，那些人根本不想靠艰苦的工作生活。而那些从体面家庭出来的孩子该怎么办呢？为什么没人理睬他们？对于塞罗科尔德和马弗里克大夫这种怪人，以及那些多愁善感的人来说，正直毫无意义。马普尔小姐，我和我的兄弟们过惯了苦日子，但我们从来不发牢骚。这世道，只知道同情软蛋！”
她们穿过花园，经过栅栏中间的门来到拱门前。这是当年埃里克•古尔布兰森为学院修建的入口。红砖大楼建得很结实，但并不雅致。
马弗里克医生出门迎接她们。在马普尔小姐看来，马弗里克医生有点神神叨叨的。
“谢谢你，贝莱弗小姐。”他说，“马普尔小姐，我觉得你肯定会对我们所做的事感兴趣。我们正走在成就事业的伟大道路上。塞罗科尔德先生很有洞察力——非常有远见。我的老上级约翰•史迪威爵士也很支持我们。他在内务部工作，直到退休，如果没有他，这里的事业可能还没开始呢。这是个医学问题——我们必须让法律界权威明白这一点。精神病学在战争时期得以全盛发展，我们相信治疗能使他们洗面革面——现在，我想先让你看一下解决这个问题的第一步。请您往上看。”
马普尔小姐抬起头，看见拱形门廊上刻着一行字——“入此地者皆能恢复”。
“是不是很棒？我们要的不就是这个吗？这些年轻人需要的不是责备，不是惩罚。他们已经被惩罚得够多了。我们要让他们意识到自己是多么好的人。”
“像埃德加•劳森一样吗？”马普尔小姐问。
“他是个有趣的例子。你和他聊过了吗？”
马普尔小姐说：“聊过了。”她抱歉地补充了一句，“我觉得他有点疯狂。”
马弗里克医生开心地笑了。
“亲爱的女士，人人都有点疯狂因子。”他边说边把她领进门，“这是生存的秘密。世上的人都有点疯狂。”
Chapter Six
Six
O n the whole it was rather an exhausting day. Enthusiasm in itself can be extremely wearing, Miss Marple thought.
She felt vaguely dissatisfied with herself and her own reactions. There was a pattern here-perhaps several patterns,and yet she herself could obtain no clear glimpse of it or them. Any vague disquietude she felt centered round thepathetic but inconspicuous personality of Edgar Lawson. If she could only find in her memory the right parallel.
Painstakingly she rejected the curious behaviour of Mr. Selkirk’s delivery van-the absentminded postman-thegardener who worked on Whitmonday-and that very curious affair of the summer weight combinations.
Something that she could not quite put her finger on was wrong about Edgar Lawson-something that went beyondthe observed and admitted facts. But for the life of her, Miss Marple did not see how that wrongness, whatever it was,affected her friend Carrie Louise. In the confused patterns of life at Stonygates, people’s troubles and desires impingedon each other. But none of them (again as far as she could see) impinged on Carrie Louise.
Carrie Louise … Suddenly Miss Marple realised that it was she alone, except for the absent Ruth, who used thatname. To her husband, she was Caroline. To Miss Bellever, Cara. Stephen Restarick usually addressed her asMadonna. To Wally she was formally Mrs. Serrocold, and Gina elected to address her as Grandam-a mixture, shehad explained, of Grande Dame and Grandmamma.
Was there some significance, perhaps, in the various names that were found for Caroline Louise Serrocold? Wasshe to all of them a symbol and not quite a real person?
When on the following morning Carrie Louise, dragging her feet a little as she walked, came and sat down on thegarden seat beside her friend and asked her what she was thinking about, Miss Marple replied promptly:
“You, Carrie Louise.”
“What about me?”
“Tell me honestly-is there anything here that worries you?”
“Worries me?” The other woman raised wondering, clear blue eyes. “But, Jane, what should worry me?”
“Well, most of us have worries.” Miss Marple’s eyes twinkled a little. “I have. Slugs, you know-and the difficultyof getting linen properly darned-and not being able to get sugar candy for making my damson gin. Oh, lots of littlethings-it seems unnatural that you shouldn’t have any worries at all.”
“I suppose I must have really,” said Mrs. Serrocold vaguely. “Lewis works too hard, and Stephen forgets his mealsslaving at the theatre and Gina is very jumpy-but I’ve never been able to alter people-I don’t see how you can. So itwouldn’t be any good worrying, would it?”
“Mildred’s not very happy, either, is she?”
“Oh no,” said Carrie Louise. “Mildred never is happy. She wasn’t as a child. Quite unlike Pippa who was alwaysradiant.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Miss Marple, “Mildred has cause not to be happy?”
Carrie Louise said quietly:
“Because of being jealous? Yes, I daresay. But people don’t really need a cause for feeling what they do feel.
They’re just made that way. Don’t you think so, Jane?”
Miss Marple thought briefly of Miss Moncrieff, a slave to a tyrannical invalid mother. Poor Miss Moncrieff wholonged for travel and to see the world. And of how St. Mary Mead in a decorous way had rejoiced when Mrs.
Moncrieff was laid in the churchyard and Miss Moncrieff, with a nice little income, was free at last. And of how MissMoncrieff, starting on her travels, had got no further than Hayéres where, calling to see one of “mother’s oldestfriends,” she had been so moved by the plight of an elderly hypochondriac that she had cancelled her travelreservations and taken up her abode in the villa to be bullied, overworked, and to long, wistfully, once more, for thejoys of a wider horizon.
Miss Marple said:
“I expect you’re right, Carrie Louise.”
“Of course, my being so free from cares is partly due to Jolly. Dear Jolly. She came to me when Johnnie and I werejust married and was wonderful from the first. She takes care of me as though I were a baby and quite helpless. She’ddo anything for me. I feel quite ashamed sometimes. I really believe Jolly would murder someone for me, Jane. Isn’tthat an awful thing to say?”
“She’s certainly very devoted,” agreed Miss Marple.
“She gets so indignant.” Mrs. Serrocold’s silvery laugh rang out. “She’d like me to be always ordering wonderfulclothes, and surrounding myself with luxuries, and she thinks everybody ought to put me first and to dance attendanceon me. She’s the one person who’s absolutely unimpressed by Lewis’ enthusiasm. All our poor boys are, in her view,pampered young criminals and not worth taking trouble over. She thinks this place is damp and bad for myrheumatism, and that I ought to go to Egypt or somewhere warm and dry.”
“Do you suffer much from rheumatism?”
“It’s got much worse lately. I find it difficult to walk. Horrid cramps in my legs. Oh well”-again there came thatbewitching elfin smile, “age must tell.”
Miss Bellever came out of the French windows and hurried across to them.
“A telegram, Cara, just came over the telephone. Arriving this afternoon, Christian Gulbrandsen.”
“Christian?” Carrie Louise looked very surprised. “I’d no idea he was in England.”
“The Oak Suite, I suppose?”
“Yes, please, Jolly. Then there will be no stairs.”
Miss Bellever nodded and turned back to the house.
“Christian Gulbrandsen is my stepson,” said Carrie Louise. “Eric’s eldest son. Actually he’s two years older than Iam. Her’s one of the trustees of the Institute-the principal trustee. How very annoying that Lewis is away. Christianhardly ever stays longer than one night. He’s an immensely busy man. And there are sure to be so many things theywould want to discuss.”
Christian Gulbrandsen arrived that afternoon in time for tea. He was a big heavy featured man, with a slowmethodical way of talking. He greeted Carrie Louise with every sign of affection.
“And how is our little Carrie Louise? You do not look a day older. Not a day.”
His hands on her shoulders-he stood smiling down at her. A hand tugged his sleeve.
“Christian!”
“Ah”-he turned-“it is Mildred? How are you, Mildred?”
“I’ve not really been at all well lately.”
“That is bad. That is bad.”
There was a strong resemblance between Christian Gulbrandsen and his half sister Mildred. There was nearly thirtyyears of difference in age and they might easily have been taken for father and daughter. Mildred herself seemedparticularly pleased by his arrival. She was flushed and talkative, and had talked repeatedly during the day of “mybrother,” “my brother Christian,” “my brother, Mr. Gulbrandsen.”
“And how is little Gina?” said Gulbrandsen, turning to that young woman. “You and your husband are still here,then?”
“Yes. We’ve quite settled down, haven’t we, Wally?”
“Looks like it,” said Wally.
Gulbrandsen’s small shrewd eyes seemed to sum up Wally quickly. Wally, as usual, looked sullen and unfriendly.
“So here I am with all the family again,” said Gulbrandsen.
His voice displayed a rather determined geniality-but in actual fact, Miss Marple thought, he was not feelingparticularly genial. There was a grim set to his lips and a certain preoccupation in his manner.
Introduced to Miss Marple he swept a keen look over her as though measuring and appraising this newcomer.
“We’d no idea you were in England, Christian,” said Mrs. Serrocold.
“No, I came over rather unexpectedly.”
“It is too bad that Lewis is away. How long can you stay?”
“I meant to go tomorrow. When will Lewis be back?”
“Tomorrow afternoon or evening.”
“It seems, then, that I must stay another night.”
“If you’d only let us know-”
“My dear Carrie Louise, my arrangements, they were made very suddenly.”
“You will stay to see Lewis?”
“Yes, it is necessary that I see Lewis.”
Miss Bellever said to Miss Marple, “Mr. Gulbrandsen and Mr. Serrocold are both trustees of the GulbrandsenInstitute. The others are the Bishop of Cromer and Mr. Gilroy.”
Presumably, then, it was on business concerned with the Gulbrandsen Institute that Christian Gulbrandsen hadcome to Stonygates. It seemed to be assumed so by Miss Bellever and everyone else. And yet Miss Marple wondered.
Once or twice the old man cast a thoughtful puzzled look at Carrie Louise when she was not aware of it-a lookthat puzzled Carrie Louise’s watching friend. From Carrie Louise he shifted his gaze to the others, examining themone and all with a kind of covert appraisal that seemed distinctly odd.
After tea Miss Marple withdrew tactfully from the others to the library, but rather to her surprise when she hadsettled herself with her knitting, Christian Gulbrandsen came in and sat down beside her.
“You are a very old friend, I think, of our dear Carrie Louise?” he said.
“We were at school together in Italy, Mr. Gulbrandsen. Many many years ago.”
“Ah yes. And you are fond of her?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Marple warmly.
“So, I think, is everyone. Yes, I truly think that. It should be so. For she is a very dear and enchanting person.
Always, since my father married her, I and my brothers have loved her very much. She has been to us like a very dearsister. She was a faithful wife to my father and loyal to all his ideas. She has never thought of herself, but put thewelfare of others first.”
“She has always been an idealist,” said Miss Marple.
“An idealist? Yes. Yes, that is so. And therefore it may be that she does not truly appreciate the evil that there is inthe world.”
Miss Marple looked at him, surprised. His face was very stern.
“Tell me,” he said. “How is her health?”
Again Miss Marple felt surprised.
“She seems to me very well-apart from arthritis-or rheumatism.”
“Rheumatism? Yes. And her heart? Her heart is good?”
“As far as I know.” Miss Marple was still more surprised. “But until yesterday I had not seen her for many years. Ifyou want to know the state of her health, you should ask somebody in the house here. Miss Bellever, for instance.”
“Miss Bellever-Yes, Miss Bellever. Or Mildred?”
“Or, as you say, Mildred.”
Miss Marple was faintly embarrassed.
Christian Gulbrandsen was staring at her very hard.
“There is not between the mother and daughter, a very great sympathy, would you say?”
“No, I don’t think there is.”
“I agree. It is a pity-her only child, but there it is. Now this Miss Bellever, you think, is really attached to her?”
“Very much so.”
“And Carrie Louise leans on this Miss Bellever?”
“I think so.”
Christian Gulbrandsen was frowning. He spoke as though more to himself than to Miss Marple.
“There is the little Gina-but she is so young. It is difficult-” He broke off. “Sometimes,” he said simply, “it ishard to know what is best to be done. I wish very much to act for the best. I am particularly anxious that no harm andno unhappiness should come to that dear lady. But it is not easy-not easy at all.”
Mrs. Strete came into the room at that moment.
“Oh there you are, Christian. We were wondering where you were. Dr. Maverick wants to know if you would liketo go over anything with him.”
“That is the new young doctor here? No-no, I will wait until Lewis returns.”
“He’s waiting in Lewis’ study. Shall I tell him-”
“I will have a word with him myself.”
Gulbrandsen hurried out. Mildred Strete stared after him and then stared at Miss Marple.
“I wonder if anything is wrong. Christian is very unlike himself … Did he say anything-”
“He only asked me about your mother’s health.”
“Her health? Why should he ask you about that?”
Mildred spoke sharply, her large square face flushing unbecomingly.
“I really don’t know.”
“Mother’s health is perfectly good. Surprisingly so for a woman of her age. Much better than mine as far as thatgoes.” She paused a moment before saying, “I hope you told him so?”
“I don’t really know anything about it,” said Miss Marple. “He asked me about her heart.”
“Her heart?”
“Yes.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Mother’s heart. Nothing at all!”
“I’m delighted to hear you say so, my dear.”
“What on earth put all these queer ideas into Christian’s head?”
“I’ve no idea,” said Miss Marple.
第六章
总体来说这是很累的一天。
热情本身就令人疲惫，马普尔小姐琢磨着。她对自己及自己的反应略微有些不满意。
石门山庄存在一种模式——兴许还不止一种，但她什么都看不出来。她隐约感觉到的不安都围绕着忧郁却不引人注目的埃德加•劳森。真希望能在记忆中找出一个和埃德加•劳森对应的人物来。
不像塞尔科克公司形迹可疑的送货人，不像心不在焉的邮递员，不像周一在威特家工作的园丁，也不像夏天那位造成一系列奇案的元凶。
有些事她完全捉摸不透，但埃德加•劳森肯定有问题——这个问题光靠观察明白不了。
就经验来看，马普尔小姐觉得无论出什么事都牵扯不到她的朋友卡莉•路易丝。在石门山庄混乱的生活中，人们的麻烦和奢望彼此相连，但这些事（据她所知）都和卡莉•路易丝无关。
卡莉•路易丝……马普尔小姐突然意识到，除了不在这儿的露丝之外，只有她用这个名字称呼路易丝。对她丈夫而言，她是卡罗琳；贝莱弗小姐称她为卡拉；斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克称她为“夫人”；对沃利来说，她是塞罗科尔德夫人；吉娜则称她为外婆——她说这是外祖母和奶奶的综合称呼。
这些对卡罗琳•路易丝•塞罗科尔德的不同称呼有什么讲究吗？对所有人而言，她是不是仅仅是个象征，而不是个真正的人呢？
第二天一早，卡莉•路易丝走路时脚步略有些迟缓，她走到花园里，坐在朋友身边，询问她在想什么。马普尔小姐的答案来得非常快。
“卡莉•路易丝，我在想你呢。”
“想我干什么？”
“老实告诉我，这里有什么事让你担心吗？”
“让我担心？”她眨着那双清澈的蓝眼睛，疑惑地说，“简，我会担心什么呀？”
“大多数人都有烦恼。”马普尔小姐眨了眨眼，“我就有。我很爱偷懒。衣服补得不好，用李子做杜松子酒时总忘记加糖。这样那样的小事非常多——没烦心事反倒不正常。”
塞罗科尔德夫人含糊地回答道：“的确有些不那么让人开心的事。刘易斯工作太卖力，斯蒂芬整天为剧院奔波，有时顾不上吃饭，吉娜反复无常……但我没办法改变别人——我不认为自己能改变别人，因此担心也于事无补，你说对吗？”
“米尔德里德也不快乐，你知道吗？”
卡莉•路易丝说：“她向来不快乐。小时候她就很忧郁，皮帕就不一样，皮帕总是容光焕发。”
马普尔小姐试探着说：“米尔德里德的不快乐也许有什么原因吧？”
卡莉•路易丝平静地回答：“因为妒忌吗？我觉得是。但人的感受不一定有理由，人的感受都是自然产生的。简，你不这么想吗？”
马普尔小姐的脑子里闪过被残疾母亲奴役的蒙克里夫小姐。可怜的蒙克里夫小姐，她十分渴望出去看世界。蒙克里夫夫人去世后，收入甚微的蒙克里夫小姐终于解放了，圣玛丽米德村的人都为她感到高兴。蒙克里夫小姐到达耶尔 [1] 时，给“妈妈的一个老友”打了个电话，结果她被这个患了忧郁症的老妇人的痛苦所打动，取消了旅游的行程安排。她住进那个老友的别墅，整日操劳，继续渴望一览外面的世界。
马普尔小姐说：“卡莉•路易丝，我想你说得对。”
“我能超脱事外与乔利分不开。我和约翰刚结婚时她就来了，她一来就对我很好。她无微不至地照顾我，把我当成无助的孩子。她会为我做任何事。有时我感到很过意不去。
简，我真觉得乔利会为了我去杀人。这么说是不是太可怕了？”
“她的确忠心耿耿。”马普尔小姐肯定地说。
塞罗科尔德夫人开心地笑了。“她很生我的气。她希望我买漂亮衣服，过奢华的日子，她认为所有人都应该把我放在第一位，对我多关注些。她对刘易斯热心的事业一点都不感兴趣。在她眼里，那些可怜的孩子只是被宠坏了的少年犯，根本不值得关心。她认为这里太潮湿，不利于我的风湿病，我该去埃及或其他温暖干燥的地方去。”
“你的风湿病很厉害吗？”
“最近一段很严重，走路都困难。腿上出现了可怕的痉挛。”说着她露出有魔力般的天使笑容说，“毕竟岁月不饶人呀。”
贝莱弗小姐走过法式长窗，匆匆向她们走来。
“卡拉，有人打电话说来了封电报。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，今天下午到。”
“克里斯蒂安吗？”卡莉•路易丝的表情很惊讶，“没想到他会在英格兰。”
“安排他住在橡树客房里吧？”
“好，就这么安排。那里不用走楼梯。”
贝莱弗小姐点了点头，然后转身回房。
卡莉•路易丝说：“克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森是我的继子，他是埃里克的大儿子。其实他比我还要大两岁。他是学院的理事——几名最主要的理事之一。刘易斯不在实在是太不巧了。克里斯蒂安在这儿一般只待一个晚上。他很忙，他们肯定要讨论许多事情。”
克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森来的时候正赶上喝下午茶。他的五官鲜明，说话慢条斯理，问候卡莉•路易丝时充满了关爱。
“我们的小卡莉•路易丝还好吗？你一点也不显老，一点也不。”
他把手放在卡莉•路易丝的肩上——笑眯眯地低头看着她——另一只手扯着卡莉的袖子。
“克里斯蒂安！”
“哦，”他转过身，“是米尔德里德吧？你好吗，米尔德里德？”
“最近不怎么好。”
“真不幸，真是太不幸了。”
克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森和他同父异母的妹妹长得非常像。他们相差近三十岁，不留心的话会把他们当成父女。米尔德里德对他的到来十分欢喜，高兴得脸都红了，话也变多了。她不断地在谈话中提到“我哥哥”，“我哥哥克里斯蒂安”，“我哥哥古尔布兰森先生。”
古尔布兰森转过脸问吉娜：“小吉娜怎么样？你和丈夫还住在这儿吗？”
“是的。我们已经安定下来了。沃利，你说是吗？”
“差不多吧。”沃利回答道。
古尔布兰森那双狡猾的小眼睛迅速地打量了沃利一下。沃利像往常一样闷闷不乐。
古尔布兰森说：“终于又和全家人团聚了。”
他的话音非常友好，但马普尔小姐觉得他的态度并不友好。他的嘴角刚毅，神情专注。
介绍到马普尔小姐时，他仔细地看了看她，像是在琢磨着这位新来的人。
“克里斯蒂安，没想到你会在英格兰。”塞罗科尔德夫人说。
“我来得的确很突然。”
“真不巧刘易斯不在。你会待多久？”
“我想明天走。明天之前他能回来吗？”
“明天下午或晚上回来。”
“看来我得多待一晚上了。”
“如果你早点让我们知道——”
“亲爱的卡莉•路易丝，我的安排总是很突然。”
“你会留下见刘易斯吗？”
“是的，我得见见刘易斯。”
贝莱弗小姐对马普尔小姐说：“古尔布兰森先生和塞罗科尔德先生都是古尔布兰森学院的理事，另外还有克罗默主教和吉尔福伊先生。”
看来，克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森是为和古尔布兰森学院有关的事来石门山庄的。贝莱弗小姐和别人似乎都这么想。
但马普尔小姐却有些怀疑。
老人在卡莉•路易丝没有察觉的情况下迷惑地看了她两眼——马普尔小姐对此感到非常费解。接着，他把目光从卡莉•路易丝转移到其他人身上，暗中打量他们，举动很不自然。
喝完茶后，马普尔小姐悄悄离开众人走进书房。令她惊讶的是，等她坐下开始织毛衣后，克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森在她身边坐下了。
“你是卡莉•路易丝的老朋友，对吗？”他问。
“古尔布兰森先生，我们小时候一起在意大利念书。那是许多年以前的事了。”
“哦，这样啊。你很喜欢她吗？”
“是的，我的确很喜欢她。”马普尔小姐热情地回答。
“人人都该喜欢她，我真这么想。她是个可爱而魅力四射的女人。我父亲与她结了婚，我和弟弟们都十分爱她。她像我们的大姐姐。她忠于父亲，忠于他的理想。她从来不考虑自己，总把别人的事放在前面。”
“她一直是个理想主义者。”马普尔小姐说。
“理想主义者？对，是这样的，因此她没意识到这个世界上的罪恶。”
马普尔小姐惊奇地看着他。后者的表情十分严肃。
他突然问：“她的健康状况怎么样？”
马普尔小姐又一次感到惊讶。
“除了关节炎或类风湿病之外，状况很好。”
“风湿？对，她是有这病。她的心脏呢？她的心脏还好吗？”
马普尔小姐更惊讶了。“据我所知还不错。不过到昨天为止，我已经有许多年没见过她了。如果你想了解她的健康状况，该去问别的什么人，比方说贝莱弗小姐。”
“贝莱弗小姐——是的，贝莱弗小姐，或者米尔德里德？”
“对，也可以问问米尔德里德。”
马普尔小姐稍微有些尴尬。
克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森严肃地看着她。“这对母女没什么感情，你说是吗？”
“是的，我觉得没有。”
“我也这么看。太遗憾了——她只有这么一个孩子，但事情就是这样。再说说贝莱弗小姐，你觉得贝莱弗小姐依恋她吗？”
“的确很依恋。”
“卡莉•路易丝凡事都要靠贝莱弗小姐吗？”
“我想是的。”
克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森皱起眉头，他更像在同自己而不是同马普尔小姐谈话。
“还有小吉娜，她还年轻。太难办了——”他停了一下，又断然道，“有时真不知该怎么办才好。我真希望能想出个好法子。卡莉•路易丝别受到什么伤害才好。但这太难……太难了。”
这时斯垂特夫人进来了。
“克里斯蒂安，你在这儿啊。我们不知道你去哪儿了。马弗里克大夫想问你有没有事要和他说。”
“是那位新来的大夫吗？没事——没什么事，等刘易斯回来再说。”
“他在刘易斯的书房里等你，要不要我去告诉他……”
“我亲自去说。”
古尔布兰森匆匆走了出去。米尔德里德盯着他的背影，然后把目光转向马普尔小姐。
“不知道出什么事了。克里斯蒂安有些反常……他有没有对你说什么？”
“他只问了问你母亲的健康状况。”
“健康？为什么问你这种事？”
米尔德里德的声音尖利，脸涨得通红。
“我真不知道。”
“妈妈的身体很好。对于她这个年纪的女人来说好得令人惊讶，甚至比我都好。”她停顿了一下，又接着往下说，“你是这么和他说的吧？”
马普尔小姐说：“我对她的健康状况一无所知。他问我她的心脏好不好。”
“她的心脏？”
“是的。”
“妈妈的心脏一点毛病都没有。根本没问题！”
“听你这么说我很高兴，亲爱的。”
“克里斯蒂安为什么要问如此怪异的问题啊？”
“我不清楚。”马普尔小姐说。
注释：
[1]法国旅游圣地。
Chapter Seven
Seven
1T he next day passed uneventfully to all appearances, yet to Miss Marple it seemed that there were signs of an innertension. Christian Gulbrandsen spent his morning with Dr. Maverick in going round the Institute and in discussing thegeneral results of the Institute’s policy. In the early afternoon Gina took him for a drive and after that Miss Marplenoticed that he induced Miss Bellever to show him something in the gardens. It seemed to her that it was a pretext forensuring a tête-à-tête with that grim woman. And yet, if Christian Gulbrandsen’s unexpected visit had only to do withbusiness matters, why this wish for Miss Bellever’s company, since the latter dealt only with the domestic side ofmatters?
But in all this, Miss Marple could tell herself that she was being fanciful. The only really disturbing incident of theday happened about four o’clock. She had rolled up her knitting and had gone out in the garden to take a little strollbefore tea. Rounding a straggling rhododendron she came upon Edgar Lawson who was striding along muttering tohimself and who nearly ran into her.
He said, “I beg your pardon,” hastily, but Miss Marple was startled by the queer staring expression of his eyes.
“Aren’t you feeling well, Mr. Lawson?”
“Well? How should I be feeling well? I’ve had a shock—a terrible shock.”
“What kind of a shock?”
The young man gave a swift glance past her, and then a sharp uneasy glance to either side. His doing so gave MissMarple a nervous feeling.
“Shall I tell you?” He looked at her doubtfully. “I don’t know. I don’t really know. I’ve been so spied upon.”
Miss Marple made up her mind. She took him firmly by the arm.
“If we walk down this path … there, now, there are no trees or bushes near. Nobody can overhear.”
“No—no, you’re right.” He drew a deep breath, bent his head and almost whispered his next words. “I’ve made adiscovery. A terrible discovery.”
“What kind of a discovery?”
Edgar Lawson began to shake all over. He was almost weeping.
“To have trusted someone! To have believed … and it was lies—all lies. Lies to keep me from finding out the truth.
I can’t bear it. It’s too wicked. You see, he was the one person I trusted, and now to find out that all the time he’s beenat the bottom of it all. It’s he who’s been my enemy! It’s he who has been having me followed about and spied upon.
But he can’t get away with it anymore. I shall speak out. I shall tell him I know what he has been doing.”
“Who is ‘he’?” demanded Miss Marple.
Edgar Lawson drew himself up to his full height. He might have looked pathetic and dignified. But actually he onlylooked ridiculous.
“I’m speaking of my father.”
“Viscount Montgomery—or do you mean Winston Churchill?”
Edgar threw her a glance of scorn.
“They let me think that—just to keep me from guessing the truth. But I know now. I’ve got a friend—a real friend.
A friend who tells me the truth and lets me know just how I’ve been deceived. Well, my father will have to reckonwith me. I’ll throw his lies in his face! I’ll challenge him with the truth. We’ll see what he’s got to say to that.”
And suddenly breaking away, Edgar went off at a run and disappeared in the park.
Her face grave, Miss Marple went back to the house.
“We’re all a little mad, dear lady,” Dr. Maverick had said.
But it seemed to her that in Edgar’s case it went rather further than that.
2Lewis Serrocold arrived back at six thirty. He stopped the car at the gates and walked to the house through the park.
Looking out of her window, Miss Marple saw Christian Gulbrandsen go out to meet him and the two men, havinggreeted one another, turned and paced to and fro, up and down the terrace.
Miss Marple had been careful to bring her bird glasses with her. At this moment she brought them into action. Wasthere, or was there not, a flight of siskins by that far clump of trees?
She noted as the glasses swept down before rising that both men were looking seriously disturbed. Miss Marpleleant out a little further. Scraps of conversation floated up to her now and then. If either of the men should look up, itwould be quite clear that an enraptured bird-watcher had her attention fixed on a point far removed from theirconversation.
“—how to spare Carrie Louise the knowledge—” Gulbrandsen was saying.
The next time they passed below, Lewis Serrocold was speaking.
“—if it can be kept from her. I agree that it is she who must be considered….”
Other faint snatches came to the listener.
“—Really serious—” “—not justified—” “too big a responsibility to take—” “we should, perhaps, take outsideadvice—”
Finally Miss Marple heard Christian Gulbrandsen say, “Ach, it grows cold. We must go inside.”
Miss Marple drew her head in through the window with a puzzled expression. What she had heard was toofragmentary to be easily pieced together—but it served to confirm that vague apprehension that had been graduallygrowing upon her and about which Ruth Van Rydock had been so positive.
Whatever was wrong at Stonygates, it definitely affected Carrie Louise.
3Dinner that evening was a somewhat constrained meal. Both Gulbrandsen and Lewis were absentminded and absorbedin their own thoughts. Walter Hudd glowered even more than usual and, for once, Gina and Stephen seemed to havelittle to say either to each other or to the company at large. Conversation was mostly sustained by Dr. Maverick whohad a lengthy, technical discussion with Mr. Baumgarten, the occupational therapist.
When they moved into the Hall after dinner, Christian Gulbrandsen excused himself almost at once. He said he hadan important letter to write.
“So if you will forgive me, dear Carrie Louise, I will go now to my room.”
“You have all you want there? Jolly?”
“Yes, yes. Everything. A typewriter, I asked, and one has been put there. Miss Bellever has been most kind andattentive.”
He left the Great Hall by the door on the left which led past the foot of the main staircase and along a corridor, atthe end of which was a suite of bedroom and bathroom.
When he had gone out, Carrie Louise said:
“Not going down to the theatre tonight, Gina?”
The girl shook her head. She went over and sat by the window overlooking the front drive and the court.
Stephen glanced at her, then strolled over to the big grand piano. He sat down at it and strummed very softly—aqueer melancholy little tune. The two occupational therapists, Mr. Baumgarten and Mr. Lacy, and Dr. Maverick, saidgood night and left. Walter turned the switch of a reading lamp and with a crackling noise half the lights in the Hallwent out.
He growled.
“That darned switch is always faulty. I’ll go and put a new fuse in.”
He left the Hall and Carrie Louise murmured, “Wally’s so clever with electrical gadgets and things like that. Youremember how he fixed that toaster?”
“It seems to be all he does do here,” said Mildred Strete. “Mother, have you taken your tonic?”
Miss Bellever looked annoyed.
“I declare I completely forgot tonight.” She jumped up and went into the dining room, returning presently with asmall glass containing a little rose-coloured fluid.
Smiling a little, Carrie Louise held out an obedient hand.
“Such horrid stuff and nobody lets me forget it,” she said, making a wry face.
And then, rather unexpectedly, Lewis Serrocold said: “I don’t think I should take it tonight, my dear. I’m not sure itreally agrees with you.”
Quietly, but with that controlled energy always so apparent in him, he took the glass from Miss Bellever and put itdown on the big oak Welsh dresser.
Miss Bellever said sharply:
“Really, Mr. Serrocold, I can’t agree with you there. Mrs. Serrocold has been very much better since—”
She broke off and turned sharply:
The front door was pushed violently open and allowed to swing to with a crash. Edgar Lawson came into the bigdim Hall with the air of a star performer making a triumphal entry.
He stood in the middle of the floor and struck an attitude.
It was almost ridiculous—but not quite ridiculous.
Edgar said theatrically:
“So I have found you, O mine enemy!”
He said it to Lewis Serrocold.
Mr. Serrocold looked mildly astonished.
“Why, Edgar, what is the matter?”
“You can say that to me—you! You know what’s the matter. You’ve been deceiving me, spying on me, workingwith my enemies against me.”
Lewis took him by the arm.
“Now, now, my dear lad, don’t excite yourself. Tell me all about it quietly. Come into my office.”
He led him across the Hall and through a door on the right closing it behind him. After he had done so, there wasanother sound, the sharp sound of a key being turned in the lock.
Miss Bellever looked at Miss Marple, the same idea in both their minds. It was not Lewis Serrocold who hadturned the key.
Miss Bellever said sharply: “That young man is just about to go off his head in my opinion. It isn’t safe.”
Mildred said, “He’s a most unbalanced young man—and absolutely ungrateful for everything that’s been done forhim—you ought to put your foot down, Mother.”
With a faint sigh Carrie Louise murmured:
“There’s no harm in him really. He’s fond of Lewis. He’s very fond of him.”
Miss Marple looked at her curiously. There had been no fondness in the expression that Edgar had turned on LewisSerrocold a few moments previously, very far from it. She wondered, as she had wondered before, if Carrie Louisedeliberately turned her back on reality.
Gina said sharply:
“He had something in his pocket. Edgar, I mean. Playing with it.”
Stephen murmured as he took his hands from the keys:
“In a film it would certainly have been a revolver.”
Miss Marple coughed.
“I think, you know,” she said apologetically, “it was a revolver.”
From behind the closed doors of Lewis’ office the sound of voices had been plainly discernible. Now, suddenly,they became clearly audible. Edgar Lawson shouted whilst Lewis Serrocold’s voice kept its even, reasonable note.
“Lies—lies—lies, all lies. You’re my father. I’m your son. You’ve deprived me of my rights. I ought to own thisplace. You hate me—you want to get rid of me!”
There was a soothing murmur from Lewis and then the hysterical voice rose still higher. It screamed out foulepithets. Edgar seemed rapidly losing control of himself. Occasional words came from Lewis—“calm—just be calm—you know none of this is true—” But they seemed not to soothe, but on the contrary to enrage the young man stillfurther.
Insensibly everyone in the Hall was silent, listening intently to what went on behind the locked door of Lewis’
study.
“I’ll make you listen to me,” yelled Edgar. “I’ll take that supercilious expression off your face. I’ll have revenge, Itell you. Revenge for all you’ve made me suffer.”
The other voice came curtly, unlike Lewis’ usual unemotional tones.
“Put that revolver down!”
Gina cried sharply:
“Edgar will kill him. He’s crazy. Can’t we get the police or something?”
Carrie Louise, still unmoved, said softly:
“There’s no need to worry, Gina. Edgar loves Lewis. He’s just dramatising himself, that’s all.”
Edgar’s voice sounded through the door in a laugh that Miss Marple had to admit sounded definitely insane.
“Yes, I’ve got a revolver—and it’s loaded. No, don’t speak, don’t move. You’re going to hear me out. It’s you whostarted this conspiracy against me and now you’re going to pay for it.”
What sounded like the report of a firearm made them all start, but Carrie Louise said:
“It’s all right, it’s outside—in the park somewhere.”
Behind the locked door, Edgar was raving in a high screaming voice.
“You sit there looking at me—looking at me—pretending to be unmoved. Why don’t you get down on your kneesand beg for mercy? I’m going to shoot, I tell you. I’m going to shoot you dead! I’m your son—your unacknowledgeddespised son—you wanted me hidden away, out of the world altogether, perhaps. You set your spies to follow me—tohound me down—you plotted against me. You, my father! My father. I’m only a bastard, aren’t I? Only a bastard.
You went on filling me up with lies. Pretending to be kind to me, and all the time—all the time … you’re not fit tolive. I won’t let you live.”
Again there came a stream of obscene profanity. Somewhere during the scene Miss Marple was conscious of MissBellever saying:
“We must do something,” and leaving the Hall.
Edgar seemed to pause for breath and then he shouted out,“You’re going to die—to die. You’re going to die now. Take that, you devil, and that!”
Two sharp cracks rang out—not in the park this time, but definitely behind the locked door.
Somebody, Miss Marple thought it was Mildred, cried out:
“Oh God, what shall we do?”
There was a thud from inside the room and then a sound, almost more terrible than what had gone before, thesound of slow, heavy sobbing.
Somebody strode past Miss Marple and started shaking and rattling the door.
It was Stephen Restarick.
“Open the door. Open the door,” he shouted.
Miss Bellever came back into the Hall. In her hand she held an assortment of keys.
“Try some of these,” she said breathlessly.
At that moment the fused lights came on again. The Hall sprang into life again after its eerie dimness.
Stephen Restarick began trying the keys.
They heard the inside key fall out as he did so.
Inside, that wild desperate sobbing went on.
Walter Hudd, coming lazily back into the Hall, stopped dead and demanded:
“Say, what’s going on round here?”
Mildred said tearfully,
“That awful crazy young man has shot Mr. Serrocold.”
“Please.” It was Carrie Louise who spoke. She got up and came across to the study door. Very gently she pushedStephen Restarick aside. “Let me speak to him.”
She called—very softly—“Edgar … Edgar … let me in, will you? Please, Edgar.”
They heard the key fitted into the lock. It turned and the door was slowly opened.
But it was not Edgar who opened it. It was Lewis Serrocold. He was breathing hard as though he had been running,but otherwise he was unmoved.
“It’s all right, dearest,” he said. “Dearest, it’s quite all right.”
“We thought you’d been shot,” said Miss Bellever gruffly.
Lewis Serrocold frowned. He said with a trifle of asperity:
“Of course I haven’t been shot.”
They could see into the study by now. Edgar Lawson had collapsed by the desk. He was sobbing and gasping. Therevolver lay on the floor where it had dropped from his hand.
“But we heard the shots,” said Mildred.
“Oh yes, he fired twice.”
“And he missed you?”
“Of course he missed me,” snapped Lewis.
Miss Marple did not consider that there was any of course about it. The shots must have been fired at fairly closerange.
Lewis Serrocold said irritably:
“Where’s Maverick? It’s Maverick we need.”
Miss Bellever said:
“I’ll get him. Shall I ring up the police as well?”
“Police? Certainly not.”
“Of course, we must ring up the police,” said Mildred. “He’s dangerous.”
“Nonsense,” said Lewis Serrocold. “Poor lad. Does he look dangerous?”
At the moment he did not look dangerous. He looked young and pathetic and rather repulsive.
His voice had lost its carefully acquired accent.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” he groaned. “I dunno what came over me—talking all that stuff—I must have been mad.”
Mildred sniffed.
“I really must have been mad. I didn’t mean to. Please, Mr. Serrocold, I really didn’t mean to.”
Lewis Serrocold patted him on the shoulder.
“That’s all right, my boy. No damage done.”
“I might have killed you, Mr. Serrocold.”
Walter Hudd walked across the room and peered at the wall behind the desk.
“The bullets went in here,” he said. His eye dropped to the desk and the chair behind it. “Must have been a nearmiss,” he said grimly.
“I lost my head. I didn’t rightly know what I was doing. I thought he’d done me out of my rights. I thought—”
Miss Marple put in the question she had been wanting to ask for some time.
“Who told you,” she asked, “that Mr. Serrocold was your father?”
Just for a second, a sly expression peeped out of Edgar’s distracted face. It was there and gone in a flash.
“Nobody,” he said. “I just got it into my head.”
Walter Hudd was staring down at the revolver where it lay on the floor.
“Where the hell did you get that gun?” he demanded.
“Gun?” Edgar stared down at it.
“Looks mighty like my gun,” said Walter. He stooped down and picked it up. “By heck, it is! You took it out of myroom, you creeping louse you.”
Lewis Serrocold interposed between the cringing Edgar and the menacing American.
“All this can be gone into later,” he said. “Ah, here’s Maverick. Take a look at him, will you, Maverick?”
Dr. Maverick advanced upon Edgar with a kind of professional zest. “This won’t do, Edgar,” he said. “This won’tdo, you know.”
“He’s a dangerous lunatic,” said Mildred sharply. “He’s been shooting off a revolver and raving. He only justmissed my stepfather.”
Edgar gave a little yelp and Dr. Maverick said reprovingly:
“Careful, please, Mrs. Strete.”
“I’m sick of all this. Sick of the way you all go on here! I tell you this man’s a lunatic.”
With a bound, Edgar wrenched himself away from Dr. Maverick and fell to the floor at Serrocold’s feet.
“Help me. Help me. Don’t let them take me away and shut me up. Don’t let them….”
An unpleasing scene, Miss Marple thought.
Mildred said angrily, “I tell you he’s—”
Her mother said soothingly,
“Please, Mildred. Not now. He’s suffering.”
Walter muttered,
“Suffering cripes! They’re all cuckoo round here.”
“I’ll take charge of him,” said Dr. Maverick. “You come with me, Edgar. Bed and a sedative—and we’ll talkeverything over in the morning. Now you trust me, don’t you?”
Rising to his feet and trembling a little, Edgar looked doubtfully at the young doctor and then at Mildred Strete.
“She said—I was a lunatic.”
“No, no, you’re not a lunatic.”
Miss Bellever’s footsteps rang purposefully across the Hall. She came in with her lips pursed together and a flushedface.
“I’ve telephoned the police,” she said grimly. “They will be here in a few minutes.”
Carrie Louise cried, “Jolly!” in tones of dismay.
Edgar uttered a wail.
Lewis Serrocold frowned angrily.
“I told you, Jolly, I did not want the police summoned. This is a medical matter.”
“That’s as may be,” said Miss Bellever. “I’ve my own opinion. But I had to call the police. Mr. Gulbrandsen’s beenshot dead.”
第七章
Ⅰ
从表面上看，第二天平安无事地过去了，但马普尔小姐觉得有暗流涌动。克里斯蒂安一早上都和马弗里克大夫一起在学院里走动，讨论学院政策的成效。下午早些时候，吉娜开车带克里斯蒂安出去兜了一圈，之后马普尔小姐发现他把贝莱弗小姐引到花园，让她带他看什么东西。马普尔小姐觉得这是个借口，其实他是想和那个不怎么开心的女人进行一次私人谈话。如果克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的不期而至只是商谈学校业务的话，他为什么要找贝莱弗小姐呢？后者只负责处理石门山庄的家务事啊。
马普尔小姐告诉自己，所有这些都出于自己的想象。唯一让人不安的事发生在下午大约四点钟。她收起正在织的东西，想在下午茶前去花园散个步。绕过一簇十分茂盛的杜鹃花时，她遇见了埃德加•劳森。埃德加一边往前走一边自言自语，差点儿一头撞上她。
他飞快地说：“真是对不起。”但马普尔小姐从他的眼神里发现了一丝呆滞。
“劳森先生，你不舒服吗？”
“怎么会舒服呢？我受到了惊吓——可怕的惊吓。”
“什么样的惊吓呢？”
年轻人朝她身后飞快地扫了一眼，又不安地向两边张望，这样的动作使马普尔小姐觉得他很紧张。
“应该能告诉你吧……”他将信将疑地看着她，“我不知道，我真不知道。我只知道我被人监视着。”
马普尔小姐打定主意，她一把抓住劳森的胳膊。
“我们沿着这条路往前走，那里没树也没灌木林，没人可以偷听。”
“你说得对，我们去那儿吧。”他低下头，深吸了一口气，几乎是用耳语般的低声说，“我发现了一件事，一件可怕的事。”
埃德加•劳森全身发抖，几乎要哭了。
“他们让我相信人，信任人，但那是撒谎。谎言让我看不到真相。我再也受不了了。真是邪恶透顶。他是我唯一信任的人，到头来我却发现他一直是操纵者。他才是我真正的敌人！他让人跟踪我、监视我。但他现在逃不掉了。我会全都说出来。我会告诉他我知道他做了些什么。”
“你说的‘他’指谁？”马普尔小姐问。
埃德加•劳森挺直了身体，想显得义愤而伤心，看上去却更加荒唐了。
“当然是说我父亲。”
“蒙哥马利勋爵还是温斯顿•丘吉尔？”
埃德加不屑一顾地瞟了她一眼。
“他们希望我这么想，为的是不让我知道真相。现在我知道了。我有个朋友——一个真正的朋友。这位朋友告诉了我真相，让我知道自己是怎么被骗的。我得和我父亲算账。我要当众揭穿他的谎言！用实情来问他，看看他到底会怎么说。”
埃德加像挣脱束缚一般，一溜烟跑了，消失在花园里。
马普尔小姐神情严肃地回到房里。
“亲爱的女士，我们都有点疯。”马弗里克大夫曾这么说过。
可在马普尔小姐看来，埃德加不止如此。
II
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德六点半的时候回来了。他把车停在大门口，穿过花园朝家里走来。
马普尔小姐透过窗户向外看，看见克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森出门见他，两人打过招呼后在阳台上闲晃。
马普尔小姐很仔细，她把平时观鸟的望远镜带来了，这时望远镜派上了用场。哪片树丛里没有金丝雀呢？
镜头徐徐下降，她发现两人都很不安。她把身子往外斜了点。两人的对话断断续续地传入耳中。即便其中一人抬头看，也会认定楼上那位聚精会神的观鸟人注意的是远处的动静而不是他们的谈话。
“怎么才能不让卡莉•路易丝知道呢——”古尔布兰森说。
两人又一次走过窗下时，轮到刘易斯•塞罗科尔德说话了。
“尽量别让她知道。必须考虑她的感受……”
马普尔小姐还零星听到其他一些话。
“——严重——”“——不公正——”“——无法承担这个责任——”“——我们也许应该听听外界的建议——”
最后马普尔小姐听见克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森说：“太冷了，我们进屋吧。”
马普尔小姐把头缩回来，心里充满着疑惑。听到的话太零散，很难拼凑在一起，但足以证实在她脑海里形成的担忧。看来露丝•范•赖多克并没说错。
无论石门山庄出了什么事，这事都和卡莉•路易丝有关。
III
不知为何，那天的晚饭气氛非常拘谨。古尔布兰森和刘易斯各怀心事。沃尔特•赫德比以往更不高兴。吉娜和斯蒂芬头一次没了话说，也没和别人说话。说话的只有马弗里克大夫，他与专业治疗师鲍姆加登先生长篇大论地谈了些技术问题。
晚饭后众人去了大厅，克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森说自己要离开一会儿。他说有封重要的信要写。
“亲爱的卡莉•路易丝，很抱歉，我要回自己的房间了。”
“你要的东西都备齐了吧？”
“是的，都有了。我要台打字机，已经放好了。贝莱弗小姐做事很认真。”
他从左边通向主楼梯的门走出去，沿着一条走廊往前走，走廊的尽头是卧室及浴室。
克里斯蒂安出门后，卡莉•路易丝问：“吉娜，今天晚上不去剧院了吗？”
吉娜摇摇头，坐在能俯视门前车道和院子的窗户边。
斯蒂芬看了她一眼，慢慢走到钢琴边坐下，轻柔地弹了首曲子，曲调有些莫名的感伤。职业治疗师鲍姆加登先生和莱西先生及马弗里克大夫道过晚安后也走了。沃尔特打开台灯，一阵噼啪声，大厅里一半的灯都灭了。
他嘟囔了一句：“该死的开关老出问题。我去换根新保险丝。”
他走出大厅，卡莉•路易丝低声说：“沃利真会摆弄那些电子玩意儿。还记得他是怎么修烤箱的吗？”
“他在这儿就干了这一件事，”米尔德里德•斯垂特说，“妈妈，你吃过补药了吗？”
贝莱弗小姐看上去有些生气。
“我真给忘了。”她站起身，走进餐厅，拿来个盛着玫瑰色液体的小瓶。
卡莉•路易丝笑了笑，顺从地伸出手。
“这种吓人的东西，你们谁都不会忘。”她一边说话一边做了个鬼脸。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德出人意料地说：“亲爱的，今晚你就别吃了，我不知道它是否适合你。”
他镇定却不由分说地把小瓶从贝莱弗手中拿下，放在威尔士风格的橡木梳妆台上。
贝莱弗小姐厉声道：“塞罗科尔德先生，我不同意你的看法。塞罗科尔德夫人的情况好多了，自从——”
她停下来，表情非常生气。
大门猛地被人推开，由于用力太大，门“砰”地响了一声。埃德加•劳森走进灯光暗淡的大厅，像一个明星登场。
他站在屋子中央，摆出一副煞有介事的样子。
情形似乎有些荒唐——但不算太荒唐。
埃德加像在念台词：“我可找到你了，哦，我的敌人！”
他显然是在对刘易斯•塞罗科尔德说话。
塞罗科尔德先生显得有些吃惊。
“什么事，埃德加，你究竟怎么了？”
“你怎么能这么对我说话呢？你知道怎么回事。你欺骗我，监视我，和我的敌人一起陷害我。”
刘易斯一把抓住他的手臂。
“亲爱的，别激动。静下来和我说。来我的办公室吧。”
他领着埃德加穿过大厅，走过右边的门，又把门关上。之后又一声响，钥匙在锁里转动，尖利地响了一声。
贝莱弗小姐看了看马普尔小姐，两人的想法一致：用钥匙锁门的不是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德。
贝莱弗小姐大声说：“在我看来，那个年轻人简直疯了。这很不安全。”
米尔德里德说：“他是这里最不正常的家伙——完全不会回应别人的好意。妈妈，你决不能容忍他再这样下去了。”
卡莉•路易丝轻轻地叹了口气，低声说：“他不会有什么危险的。他喜欢刘易斯，非常喜欢。”
马普尔小姐好奇地看着卡莉，埃德加刚刚冲刘易斯•塞罗科尔德发脾气时她可根本看不出他喜欢他，完全不可能。马普尔小姐像以往一样，不明白卡莉•路易丝是不是在故意否定现实。
吉娜大声说：“他口袋里有什么东西，我是说埃德加。他刚才一直在摆弄那个东西。”
斯蒂芬把手从钥匙上拿开，低声说：“如果在电影里，肯定会演成是一把左轮手枪。”
马普尔小姐咳嗽了一声，说：“应该是把左轮手枪。”
从刘易斯办公室紧闭的门后传来的声音不怎么好分辨。突然，声音清晰起来。埃德加•劳森在大声叫喊，刘易斯•塞罗科尔德的声音则依旧充满理智。
“谎言——谎言，全是谎言。你是我父亲。我是你的儿子。你剥夺了我的权利。我应当是这里的主人，你恨我——想甩掉我！”
刘易斯低声安慰他，但埃德加歇斯底里的喊声却越来越高。埃德加不时说些脏话，显然已经失去了理智。刘易斯会说上两句“镇定——安静下来，你知道这不是真的——”，但这些话不但没有安抚年轻人，反而让他更愤怒了。
大厅里的人都不知该怎么办才好，只得静静地听着刘易斯办公室锁着的门后的动静。
埃德加大叫：“我让你好好听我说的话，把你脸上傲慢的假面具完全剥除。我要报仇。
为你让我遭受的这一切报仇。”
刘易斯一改刚才漠然的语气。
“把左轮手枪给我放下！”
吉娜大嚷：“埃德加会杀了他。他疯了。我们不该去找警察或别的什么人吗？”
卡莉•路易丝不慌不忙地轻声说：“吉娜，不用担心。埃德加爱刘易斯，他不过是在演戏，就是这么回事。”
埃德加的笑声隔着门传了过来，马普尔小姐承认，听起来他的确疯了。
“对，我有把左轮手枪——一把上了膛的枪。别动，也别开口说话。你必须听我说。既然设计阴谋陷害我，你就得为此付出代价。”
此时，传来一声枪响，众人一惊，但卡莉•路易丝却说：“没关系，声音来自外面——应该是停车场里传来的声音。”
埃德加还在锁着的门后尖声怒吼。
“你坐在那儿看着我——看着我，却装作无动于衷。你干吗不跪下来求我开恩？我要开枪了。我要把你打死！我是你儿子——你那无名无分、受人鄙视的儿子，你想把我藏起来，不让全世界发现。你让侦探跟踪我、监视我、百般陷害我。你，我的父亲！我的好爸爸。我是个杂种，对吗？只是个杂种。你一直用谎言蒙蔽我，一直装作对我好，你一直这样欺骗我——你不配活下去。我不会让你活着的。”
门后再次传来一连串脏话。贝莱弗小姐出了声：“我们必须做些什么。”之后便走出了大厅。
埃德加停下来喘了口气，然后又大叫道：“你快死了——现在就要死了。你这个恶魔，赶快受死吧！”
两声尖厉的枪响——不是在停车场，绝对是从锁着的门后传来的。
有人长叹一声，马普尔小姐觉得是米尔德里德。
“上帝呀，该怎么办呀？”
砰的一声响，接着传来更为可怕的声音，是粗重的抽泣声。
有人从马普尔小姐身边走过，开始用力摇动那扇门。
是斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克。
“开门，开门。”他叫嚷着。
贝莱弗小姐回到大厅，手里拿着一大串钥匙。
“试试这些钥匙。”她上气不接下气地说。
这时，接上保险丝的灯又亮了，大厅摆脱阴暗，重新焕发出生机。
斯蒂芬开始试那些钥匙。
试钥匙时，屋里的钥匙掉在了地上。
里面传来一阵绝望的抽泣声。
沃尔特•赫德懒洋洋地返回大厅，顿时愣在当场，他疑惑地问：“究竟发生了什么事？”
米尔德里德眼泪汪汪地说：“那个可怕的疯子打死了塞罗科尔德先生。”
“让开。”卡莉•路易丝开口说话了。她起身走到书房门口，轻轻把斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克推到一旁。“让我来和他说。”
她小声地说：“埃德加……埃德加……让我进去，行吗？求你了，埃德加。”
钥匙放进锁里，转动之后门慢慢被打开了。
但不是埃德加开的门，开门的是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德。他喘着粗气，好像刚刚跑过步，除此之外看不出什么异常。
“没事，亲爱的。”他说，“亲爱的，没事了。”
贝莱弗小姐生气地说：“我们以为你被打死了呢。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德皱了皱眉，有些严厉地说：“我当然没被打死。”
书房里的情况一目了然。埃德加•劳森倒在桌旁，正一边抽泣一边喘息。左轮手枪扔在地上。
米尔德里德说：“但我们听见了枪响。”
“对，他开了两枪。”
“没打中你吗？”
“当然没打中我。”刘易斯断然否认。
但马普尔小姐觉得没那么理所当然，射击的距离肯定相当近。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德气愤地说：“马弗里克大夫在哪儿？现在我们需要马弗里克大夫。”
贝莱弗小姐说：“我去找他。要给警察打个电话吗？”
“警察吗？当然不用。”
米尔德里德说：“当然要打电话给警察，他很危险。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德说：“危险什么？可怜的孩子。他看上去危险吗？”
此时的埃德加看上去的确不那么危险，他年轻，忧郁，只是令人生厌。
他的声音里失去了刻意的伪装。
埃德加呻吟着说：“我不是有意的。我不知被什么控制了，说了那样一番话——我一定是疯了。”
米尔德里德哼了一声。
“我刚才一定是疯了。我不是有意的，求你原谅我，塞罗科尔德先生，我真不是有意的。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德拍了拍他的肩膀。
“没关系，我的孩子。没人受伤。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，我差点儿杀了你。”
沃尔特•赫德穿过书房走到桌后的墙边。
“子弹打在这儿了。”埃德加说。目光落到桌子上，然后又落到桌后的椅子上。“真的是只差一点。”他又说，“我失去了理智，不知道自己在干什么。我认为他夺走了我的一些权利。我认为——”
马普尔小姐问了个她早就想问的问题。她问：“谁告诉你塞罗科尔德先生是你父亲的？”
埃德加扭曲的脸上闪出一丝狡猾的表情，但转眼就消失了。
他说：“谁也没说，是我自己想到的。”
沃尔特•赫德盯着躺在地上的左轮手枪。
“老天，你从哪儿弄到这把枪的？”他问。
“枪？”埃德加低头看着枪。
“看上去像是我的枪。”沃尔特说着俯身捡起枪，“天哪，真是我的，你从我的房间里拿出来的，你这个小偷小摸的浑蛋。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德站在畏缩的埃德加和咄咄逼人的美国小伙子中间。
“以后再说这件事吧。”他说，“啊，马弗里克来了。马弗里克，能帮忙看看他吗？”
马弗里克大夫带着职业热情走到埃德加身边。
“这样不行，埃德加，”他说，“埃德加，这样做是不对的。”
“他是个危险的疯子。”米尔德里德大声道，“他胡言乱语，还用左轮手枪射人。差点儿打中我继父。”
埃德加叫了一声，马弗里克大夫责备道：“斯垂特夫人，说话请务必注意。”
“我厌恶这一切。讨厌这里所发生的一切！这家伙是个疯子。”
埃德加从马弗里克手里挣脱开，扑倒在塞罗科尔德脚下。
“帮帮我，帮帮我。别让他们把我带走关起来。别让他们……”
令人憎恶的场面，马普尔小姐心想。
米尔德里德愤怒地说：“他是个——”
她母亲软绵无力地打断道：“求你了米尔德里德，什么都别说了。他自己也很痛苦。”
沃尔特低声道：“痛苦的疯子。这里全都是疯子。”
马弗里克大夫说：“我来照顾他。埃德加，跟我来。上床休息，吃些镇定的药，明天早上再跟我谈。你是信任我的，对吗？”
埃德加身体抖动着站起来。他狐疑地看了看年轻的大夫，又看了看米尔德里德•斯垂特。
“她说我是个疯子。”
“不，不，你不疯。”
贝莱弗小姐匆匆穿过大厅向书房走来，似乎出了什么事。进门时她双唇紧闭，脸涨得通红。
她阴沉着脸说：“我给警察打电话了，他们几分钟后就到。”
卡莉•路易丝叫了一声：“乔利！”声音里充满了失望。
埃德加悲鸣一声。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德愤怒地皱起了眉头。
“乔利，我告诉过你不想让警察来，他只是病了而已。”
“我的确是自作主张，”贝莱弗说，“但警察必须来。因为古尔布兰森先生被人打死了。”
Chapter Eight
Eight
I t was a moment or two before anyone took in what she was saying.
Carrie Louise said incredulously:
“Christian shot? Dead? Oh, surely, that’s impossible.”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Miss Bellever, pursing her lips, and addressing not so much Carrie Louise, as theassembled company, “go and look for yourselves.”
She was angry. And her anger sounded in the crisp sharpness of her voice.
Slowly, unbelievingly, Carrie Louise took a step towards the door. Lewis Serrocold put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, dearest, let me go.”
He went out through the doorway. Dr. Maverick, with a doubtful glance at Edgar, followed him. Miss Belleverwent with them.
Miss Marple gently urged Carrie Louise into a chair. She sat down, her eyes looking hurt and stricken.
“Christian—shot?” she said again.
It was the bewildered, hurt tone of a child.
Walter Hudd remained close by Edgar Lawson, glowering down at him. In his hand he held the gun that he hadpicked up from the floor.
Mrs. Serrocold said in a wondering voice:
“But who could possibly want to shoot Christian?”
It was not a question that demanded an answer.
Walter muttered under his breath:
“Nuts! The whole lot of them.”
Stephen had moved protectively closer to Gina. Her young, startled face was the most vivid thing in the room.
Suddenly the front door opened and a rush of cold air, together with a man in a big overcoat, came in.
The heartiness of his greeting seemed incredibly shocking.
“Hullo, everybody, what’s going on tonight? A lot of fog on the road. I had to go dead slow.”
For a startled moment, Miss Marple thought that she was seeing double. Surely the same man could not be standingby Gina and coming in by the door. Then she realised that it was only a likeness and not, when you looked closely,such a very strong likeness. The two men were clearly brothers with a strong family resemblance, but no more.
Where Stephen Restarick was thin to the point of emaciation, the newcomer was sleek. The big coat with theastrakhan collar fitted the sleekness of body snugly. A handsome young man and one who bore upon him the authorityand good humour of success.
But Miss Marple noted one thing about him. His eyes, as he entered the Hall, looked immediately at Gina.
He said, a little doubtfully:
“You did expect me? You got my wire?”
He was speaking now to Carrie Louise. He came towards her.
Almost mechanically, she put up her hand to him. He took it and kissed it gently. It was an affectionate act ofhomage, not a mere theatrical courtesy.
She murmured:
“Of course, Alex dear—of course. Only, you see—things have been happening—”
“Happening?”
Mildred gave the information, gave it with a kind of grim relish that Miss Marple found distasteful.
“Christian Gulbrandsen,” she said. “My brother Christian Gulbrandsen has been found shot dead.”
“Good God,” Alex registered a more than life-size dismay. “Suicide, do you mean?”
Carrie Louise moved swiftly.
“Oh no,” she said. “It couldn’t be suicide. Not Christian! Oh no.”
“Uncle Christian would never shoot himself, I’m sure,” said Gina.
Alex Restarick looked from one person to the other. From his brother Stephen he received a short confirmativenod. Walter Hudd stared back at him with faint resentment. Alex’s eyes rested on Miss Marple with a sudden frown. Itwas as though he had found some unwanted prop on a stage set.
He looked as though he would like her explained. But nobody explained her, and Miss Marple continued to look anold, fluffy and sweetly bewildered old lady.
“When?” asked Alex. “When did this happen, I mean?”
“Just before you arrived,” said Gina. “About—oh three or four minutes ago, I suppose. Why, of course, we actuallyheard the shot. Only we didn’t notice it—not really.”
“Didn’t notice it? Why not?”
“Well, you see, there were other things going on …” Gina spoke rather hesitantly.
“Sure were,” said Walter with emphasis.
Juliet Bellever came into the Hall by the door from the library.
“Mr. Serrocold suggests that we should all wait in the library. It would be convenient for the police. Except forMrs. Serrocold. You’ve had a shock, Cara. I’ve ordered some hot bottles to be put in your bed. I’ll take you up and—”
Rising to her feet, Carrie Louise shook her head.
“I must see Christian first,” she said.
“Oh, no, dear. Don’t upset yourself—”
Carrie Louise put her very gently to one side.
“Dear Jolly—you don’t understand.” She looked round and said, “Jane?”
Miss Marple had already moved towards her.
“Come with me, will you, Jane?”
They moved together towards the door. Dr. Maverick, coming in, almost collided with them.
Miss Bellever exclaimed:
“Dr. Maverick. Do stop her. So foolish.”
Carrie Louise looked calmly at the young doctor. She even gave a tiny smile.
Dr. Maverick said:
“You want to go and—see him?”
“I must.”
“I see.” He stood aside. “If you feel you must, Mrs. Serrocold. But afterwards, please go and lie down and let MissBellever look after you. At the moment you do not feel the shock, but I assure you that you will do so.”
“Yes. I expect you are quite right. I will be quite sensible. Come, Jane.”
The two women moved out through the door, past the foot of the main staircase and along the corridor, past thedining room on the right and the double door, leading to the kitchen quarters on the left, past the side door to theterrace and on to the door that gave admission to the Oak Suite that had been alloted to Christian Gulbrandsen. It wasa room furnished as a sitting room more than a bedroom, with a bed in an alcove to one side and a door leading into adressing room and bathroom.
Carrie Louise stopped on the threshold. Christian Gulbrandsen had been sitting at the big mahogany desk with asmall portable typewriter open in front of him. He sat there now, but slumped sideways in the chair. The high arms ofthe chair prevented him from slipping to the floor.
Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window. He had pulled the curtain a little aside and was gazing out into thenight.
He looked round and frowned.
“My dearest, you shouldn’t have come.”
He came towards her and she stretched out a hand to him. Miss Marple retreated a step or two.
“Oh yes, Lewis. I had to—see him. One has to know just exactly how things are.”
She walked slowly towards the desk.
Lewis said warningly:
“You mustn’t touch anything. The police must have things left exactly as we found them.”
“Of course. He was shot deliberately by someone, then?”
“Oh yes.” Lewis Serrocold looked a little surprised that the question had even been asked. “I thought—you knewthat?”
“I did really. Christian would not commit suicide, and he was such a competent person that it could not possiblyhave been an accident. That only leaves”—she hesitated a moment—“murder.”
She walked up behind the desk and stood looking down at the dead man. There was sorrow and affection in herface.
“Dear Christian,” she said. “He was always good to me.”
Softly, she touched the top of his head with her fingers.
“Bless you and thank you, dear Christian,” she said.
Lewis Serrocold said with something more like emotion than Miss Marple had ever seen in him before:
“I wish to God I could have spared you this, Caroline.”
His wife shook her head gently.
“You can’t really spare anyone anything,” she said. “Things always have to be faced sooner or later. And thereforeit had better be sooner. I’ll go and lie down now. I suppose you’ll stay here, Lewis, until the police come?”
“Yes.”
Carrie Louise turned away and Miss Marple slipped an arm around her.
第八章
过了半晌人们才弄明白她的话。
卡莉•路易丝不相信似的问：“克里斯蒂安被枪打死了？他死了吗？这完全不可能啊。”
“不相信的话，”贝莱弗小姐撅着嘴对卡莉•路易丝和其他人说，“你们自己去看。”
她生气了，语调尖厉短促。
卡莉•路易丝缓缓地朝那个房间走了过去，似乎仍旧不愿意相信。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德把手放在她的肩上。
“亲爱的，让我去。”
说着他出了门。马弗里克大夫狐疑地看了埃德加一眼，跟刘易斯去了。贝莱弗小姐随后也跟了上去。
马普尔小姐让卡莉•路易丝坐在椅子上。卡莉坐下来，露出惊恐受伤的目光。
“克里斯蒂安被人打死了吗？”她又问了一遍。
她的声音像个受到了伤害、不知所措的孩子。
沃尔特•赫德站在埃德加•劳森身边怒视着他，手里拿着刚从地上捡起来的枪。
塞罗科尔德夫人疑惑地问：“可是谁会拿枪去射杀克里斯蒂安呢？”但她并没想得到答案。
沃尔特低声说：“疯子！全都是些疯子。”
斯蒂芬靠近吉娜想保护她，后者惊恐的俏脸使房间还有一点生机。
门开了，一个穿着宽大外套的人带着寒气走了进来。
他热情的问候让人们一时间没回过神来。
“大家好。真是个不寻常的夜晚，路上雾太大，我只能开得很慢。”
马普尔小姐刹那间还以为自己看见了一个重影。当然了，同一个人不可能既站在吉娜身边又出现在门口。过了一会儿她才意识到，只是这两个人长得太像了。不过从近处细看，两人还是有些差别的。他们是长得很像的一家人，但也不过如此。
斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克瘦得有些憔悴，刚进来的这位却很健壮。他的大衣上有圈黑色的小羊羔皮领，衣服非常合体。来人是个英俊的小伙子，集权威和成功者的幽默于一身。
马普尔小姐注意到了一件事——刚一进屋，他的双眼就马上看向吉娜。
他犹豫了一下，转向卡莉•路易丝。
“收到我的电报了吧？你在等我来吗？”说着朝卡莉•路易丝走了过去。
卡莉几乎是机械地把手伸向他。他接过那只手，轻轻地吻了一下，动作中充满了真挚的感情，不仅仅是戏剧化的礼节。
卡莉低声说：“当然了，亚历克斯——亲爱的，我正盼着你来呢。不过——事情已经发生了——”
“发生了什么事？”
米尔德里德把事情告诉他，马普尔小姐很讨厌米尔德里德惺惺作态的恐怖语气。
“克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，”她说，“我哥哥克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，被发现遭枪击身亡。”
“我的上帝呀，”亚历克斯十分惊讶，“自杀，是自杀吗？”
卡莉•路易丝说：“不可能是自杀。克里斯蒂安不可能自杀！哦，不。”
“克里斯蒂安舅舅绝不会自杀，我很肯定。”吉娜也说。
亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克把这些人轮流看了个遍。他兄弟斯蒂芬朝他肯定地点了点头。沃尔特•赫德带着一丝愤怒盯着他。亚历克斯的目光落在马普尔小姐身上，皱起了眉，就像发现舞台布景中突然冒出了一个没见过的道具。
他看着马普尔小姐，像是希望有人引荐。但没人替他介绍，马普尔小姐看上去只是个又老又胖、不知所措的老妇人而已。
“什么时候？”亚历克斯问，“那是什么时候的事？”
吉娜回答：“在你来之前，就在你来之前三四分钟。我们听见枪响，但没特别注意——完全没有警觉。”
“没警觉？为什么没有警觉？”
吉娜犹豫着，回答说：“还发生了些别的事情……”
沃尔特强调道：“的确有些别的事情。”
这时朱丽叶•贝莱弗从书房的门走进大厅。
“塞罗科尔德先生认为我们该在书房里等。警察很快会来，这样有利于他们开展工作。
只有塞罗科尔德夫人可以不和我们一起等。卡拉，你肯定吓坏了。我让人送一些暖水袋放到你床上，我这就送你上去。”
卡莉•路易丝站起身，摇了摇头。她说：“我必须先看看克里斯蒂安。”
“不行，亲爱的。别让自己难受——”
卡莉•路易丝轻柔地把她推到一边。
“亲爱的乔利，你不会理解的。”她转过头叫了一声，“简，你在吗？”
马普尔小姐走了过来。
“简，和我一起去行吗？”
她们一起向门口走去。正好进门的马弗里克大夫差点儿和她们撞上。
贝莱弗小姐叫着：“马弗里克大夫，千万别让她去，真是太愚蠢了。”
卡莉•路易丝平静地看着年轻医生，甚至还笑了笑。
马弗里克大夫问：“你真的要去看他吗？”
“我必须去。”
“明白了。”他让到一旁，“塞罗科尔德夫人，如果觉得有必要你就去吧。但过会儿一定要休息一下，让贝莱弗小姐照看你。现在你还不害怕，但我保证你会感到害怕的。”
“我想你说得对。我会保持理智的。简，咱们去吧。”
两个女人走出大厅，穿过主楼梯底部，沿着走廊走过右边的餐厅和左边通往厨房的两扇门，再经过通往平台的侧门，来到橡树套房——这个套房是给克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森准备的卧室。与其说是卧室，这个房间的装饰更像是客厅。里侧的凹室里放着一张床，有扇门通向兼作化妆间的浴室。
卡莉•路易丝在门口停下了。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森原本坐在红木桌旁，面前放着一台小型便携式打字机。此时他仍旧端坐在红木桌旁，只是瘫软地靠在椅背上。椅子的高扶手没让他滑落在地。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德站在窗旁，他把窗帘往旁边拉了一拉，凝视着窗外。
他转过身，皱起眉。
“亲爱的，你不该来。”
他朝卡莉•路易丝走来，卡莉•路易丝向他伸出手。马普尔小姐后退了一两步。
“刘易斯，我得看看他。我得弄明白到底是怎么回事。”
她慢慢走到桌旁。
刘易斯警告道：“你什么都别动。警察肯定希望我们让一切保持原状。”
“我明白。他是被人打死的吗？”
“是的。”这个问题让刘易斯•塞罗科尔德有些惊讶，“你已经知道他是死于他杀的吗？”
“是的。克里斯蒂安才不会自杀呢，他很能干，不可能死于意外事故。只能死于……”她犹豫了一下说，“谋杀。”
她走到桌子后面，看着去世的人，脸上浮现出伤心怜爱的神情。
“亲爱的克里斯蒂安，”她说，“他一直对我特别好。”
她用手轻轻地抚摩了一下他的头顶。
“上帝保佑你，谢谢你，亲爱的克里斯蒂安。”她又说。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德带着平时少见的深情，说：“卡罗琳，真希望上帝没让你见到这一切。”
卡莉•路易丝轻轻摇了摇头。她说：“我们无法帮人免遭不幸，人们迟早得面对一些事。所以越早越好。我现在去躺一会儿。刘易斯，你会在这儿等警察来吧？”
“是的。”
卡莉•路易丝转过身，马普尔小姐伸出一只胳膊揽着她。
Chapter Nine
Nine
I nspector Curry and his entourage found Miss Bellever alone in the Great Hall when they arrived.
She came forward efficiently.
“I am Juliet Bellever, companion and secretary to Mrs. Serrocold.”
“It was you who found the body and telephoned to us?”
“Yes. Most of the household are in the library — through that door there. Mr. Serrocold remained in Mr.
Gulbrandsen’s room to see that nothing was disturbed. Dr. Maverick, who first examined the body, will be here veryshortly. He had to take a—case over to the other wing. Shall I lead the way?”
“If you please.”
“Competent woman,” thought the Inspector to himself. “Seems to have got the whole thing taped.”
He followed her along the corridor.
For the next twenty minutes the routine of police procedure was duly set in motion. The photographer took thenecessary pictures. The police surgeon arrived and was joined by Dr. Maverick. Half an hour later, the ambulance hadtaken away the mortal remains of Christian Gulbrandsen, and Inspector Curry started his official interrogation.
Lewis Serrocold took him into the library and he glanced keenly round the assembled people making brief notes inhis mind. An old lady with white hair, a middle-aged lady, the good-looking girl he’d seen driving her car round thecountryside, that odd-looking American husband of hers. A couple of young men who were mixed up in the outfitsomewhere or other and the capable woman, Miss Bellever, who’d phoned him and met him on arrival.
Inspector Curry had already thought out a little speech and he now delivered it as planned.
“I’m afraid this is all very upsetting to you,” he said, “and I hope not to keep you too long this evening. We can gointo things more thoroughly tomorrow. It was Miss Bellever who found Mr. Gulbrandsen dead and I’ll ask MissBellever to give me an outline of the general situation as that will save too much repetition. Mr. Serrocold, if you wantto go up to your wife, please do and when I have finished with Miss Bellever, I should like to talk to you. Is that allquite clear? Perhaps there is some small room where—”
Lewis Serrocold said:
“My office, Jolly?”
Miss Bellever nodded, and said, “I was just going to suggest it.”
She led the way across the Great Hall and Inspector Curry and his attendant sergeant followed her.
Miss Bellever arranged them and herself suitably. It might have been she and not Inspector Curry who was incharge of the investigation.
The moment had come, however, when the initiative passed to him. Inspector Curry had a pleasant voice andmanner. He looked quiet and serious and just a little apologetic. Some people made the mistake of underrating him.
Actually he was as competent in his way as Miss Bellever was in hers. But he preferred not to make a parade of thefact.
He cleared his throat.
“I’ve had the main facts from Mr. Serrocold. Mr. Christian Gulbrandsen was the eldest son of the late EricGulbrandsen, the founder of the Gulbrandsen Trust and Fellowship … and all the rest of it. He was one of the trusteesof this place and he arrived here unexpectedly yesterday. That is correct?”
“Yes.”
Inspector Curry was pleased by her conciseness. He went on.
“Mr. Serrocold was away in Liverpool. He returned this evening by the 6:30 train.”
“Yes.”
“After dinner this evening, Mr. Gulbrandsen announced his intention of working in his own room and left the restof the party here after coffee had been served. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“Now, Miss Bellever, please tell me in your own words how you came to discover him dead.”
“There was a rather unpleasant incident this evening. A young man, a psychopathic case, became very unbalancedand threatened Mr. Serrocold with a revolver. They were locked in this room. The young man eventually fired therevolver—you can see the bullet holes in the wall there. Fortunately Mr. Serrocold was unhurt. After firing the shots,this young man went completely to pieces. Mr. Serrocold sent me to find Dr. Maverick. I got through on the housephone, but he was not in his room. I found him with one of his colleagues and gave him the message and he came hereat once. On my own way back, I went to Mr. Gulbrandsen’s room. I wanted to ask him if there was anything he wouldlike—hot milk, or whisky before settling for the night. I knocked, but there was no response, so I opened the door. Isaw that Mr. Gulbrandsen was dead. I then rang you up.”
“What entrances and exits are there to the house? And how are they secured? Could anyone have come in fromoutside without being heard or seen?”
“Anyone could have come in by the side door to the terrace. That is not locked until we all go to bed, as peoplecome in and out that way to go to the College buildings.”
“And you have, I believe, between two hundred and two hundred and fifty juvenile delinquents in the College?”
“Yes. But the College buildings are well secured and patrolled. I should say it was most unlikely that anyone couldleave the College unsponsored.”
“We shall have to check up on that, of course. Had Mr. Gulbrandsen given any cause for—shall we say, rancour?
Any unpopular decisions as to policy?”
Miss Bellever shook her head.
“Oh no, Mr. Gulbrandsen had nothing whatever to do with the running of the College, or with administrativematters.”
“What was the purpose of his visit?”
“I have no idea.”
“But he was annoyed to find Mr. Serrocold absent, and immediately decided to wait until he returned?”
“Yes.”
“So his business here was definitely with Mr. Serrocold?”
“Yes. But it would be—because it would be almost certainly business to do with the Institute.”
“Yes, presumably that is so. Did he have a conference with Mr. Serrocold?”
“No, there was no time. Mr. Serrocold only arrived just before dinner this evening.”
“But after dinner, Mr. Gulbrandsen said he had important letters to write and went away to do so. He didn’t suggesta session with Mr. Serrocold?”
Miss Bellever hesitated.
“No. No, he didn’t.”
“Surely that was rather odd—if he had waited on at inconvenience to himself to see Mr. Serrocold?”
“Yes, it was odd.”
The oddness of it seemed to strike Miss Bellever for the first time.
“Mr. Serrocold did not accompany him to his room?”
“No. Mr. Serrocold remained in the Hall.”
“And you have no idea at what time Mr. Gulbrandsen was killed?”
“I think it is possible that we heard the shot. If so, it was at twenty-three minutes past nine.”
“You heard a shot? And it did not alarm you?”
“The circumstances were peculiar.”
She explained in rather more detail the scene between Lewis Serrocold and Edgar Lawson which had been inprogress.
“So it occurred to no one that the shot might actually have come from within the house?”
“No. No, I certainly don’t think so. We were all so relieved, you know, that the shot didn’t come from in here.”
Miss Bellever added rather grimly:
“You don’t expect murder and attempted murder in the same house on the same night.”
Inspector Curry acknowledged the truth of that.
“All the same,” said Miss Bellever, suddenly, “you know I believe that’s what made me go along to Mr.
Gulbrandsen’s room later. I did mean to ask him if he would like anything, but it was a kind of excuse to reassuremyself that everything was all right.”
Inspector Curry stared at her for a moment.
“What made you think it mightn’t be all right?”
“I don’t know. I think it was the shot outside. It hadn’t meant anything at the time. But afterwards it came back intomy mind. I told myself that it was only a backfire from Mr. Restarick’s car—”
“Mr. Restarick’s car?”
“Yes. Alex Restarick. He arrived by car this evening—he arrived just after all this happened.”
“I see. When you discovered Mr. Gulbrandsen’s body, did you touch anything in the room?”
“Of course not.” Miss Bellever sounded reproachful. “Naturally I knew that nothing must be touched or moved.”
“And just now, when you took us into the room, everything was exactly as it had been when you found the body?”
Miss Bellever considered. She sat back screwing up her eyes. She had, Inspector Curry thought, one of thosephotographic memories.
“One thing was different,” she said. “There was nothing in the typewriter.”
“You mean,” said Inspector Curry, “that when you first went in, Mr. Gulbrandsen had been writing a letter on thetypewriter, and that that letter had since been removed?”
“Yes, I’m almost sure that I saw the white edge of the paper sticking up.”
“Thank you, Miss Bellever. Who else went into that room before we arrived?”
“Mr. Serrocold, of course. He remained there when I came to meet you. And Mrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple wentthere. Mrs. Serrocold insisted.”
“Mrs. Serrocold and Miss Marple,” said Inspector Curry. “Which is Miss Marple?”
“The old lady with white hair. She was a school friend of Mrs. Serrocold’s. She came on a visit about four daysago.”
“Well, thank you, Miss Bellever. All that you have told us is quite clear. I’ll go into things with Mr. Serrocold now.
Ah, but perhaps—Miss Marple’s an old lady, isn’t she? I’ll just have a word with her first and then she can go off tobed. Rather cruel to keep an old lady like that up,” said Inspector Curry virtuously. “This must have been a shock toher.”
“I’ll tell her, shall I?”
“If you please.”
Miss Bellever went out. Inspector Curry looked at the ceiling.
“Gulbrandsen?” he said. “Why Gulbrandsen? Two hundred odd, maladjusted youngsters on the premises. Noreason any of them shouldn’t have done it. Probably one of them did. But why Gulbrandsen? The stranger within thegates.”
Sergeant Lake said: “Of course, we don’t know everything yet.”
Inspector Curry said:
“So far, we don’t know anything at all.”
He jumped up and was gallant when Miss Marple came in. She seemed a little flustered and he hurried to put her ather ease.
“Now don’t upset yourself, Ma’am.” The old ones like Ma’am, he thought. To them, police officers were definitelyof the lower classes and should show respect to their betters. “This is all very distressing, I know. But we’ve just got toget the facts clear. Get it all clear.”
“Oh yes, I know,” said Miss Marple. “So difficult, isn’t it? To be clear about anything, I mean. Because if you’relooking at one thing, you can’t be looking at another. And one so often looks at the wrong thing, though whetherbecause one happens to do so or because you’re meant to, it’s very hard to say. Misdirection, the conjurers call it. Soclever, aren’t they? And I never have known how they manage with a bowl of goldfish—because really that cannotfold up small, can it?”
Inspector Curry blinked a little and said soothingly:
“Quite so. Now, Ma’am, I’ve had an account of this evening’s events from Miss Bellever. A most anxious time forall of you, I’m sure.”
“Yes, indeed. It was all so dramatic, you know.”
“First this to-do between Mr. Serrocold and”—he looked down at a note he had made—“this Edgar Lawson.”
“A very odd young man,” said Miss Marple. “I have felt all along that there was something wrong about him.”
“I’m sure you have,” said Inspector Curry. “And then, after that excitement was over, there came Mr.
Gulbrandsen’s death. I understand that you went with Mrs. Serrocold to see the—er—the body.”
“Yes, I did. She asked me to come with her. We are very old friends.”
“Quite so. And you went along to Mr. Gulbrandsen’s room. Did you touch anything while you were in the room,either of you?”
“Oh no. Mr. Serrocold warned us not to.”
“Did you happen to notice, Ma’am, whether there was a letter or a piece of paper, say, in the typewriter?”
“There wasn’t,” said Miss Marple promptly. “I noticed that at once because it seemed to me odd. Mr. Gulbrandsenwas sitting there at the typewriter, so he must have been typing something. Yes, I thought it very odd.”
Inspector Curry looked at her sharply. He said:
“Did you have much conversation with Mr. Gulbrandsen while he was here?”
“Very little.”
“There is nothing especial—or significant that you can remember?”
Miss Marple considered.
“He asked me about Mrs. Serrocold’s health. In particular, about her heart.”
“Her heart? Is there something wrong with her heart?”
“Nothing whatever, I understand.”
Inspector Curry was silent for a moment or two, then he said:
“You heard a shot this evening during the quarrel between Mr. Serrocold and Edgar Lawson?”
“I didn’t actually hear it myself. I am a little deaf, you know. But Mrs. Serrocold mentioned it as being outside inthe park.”
“Mr. Gulbrandsen left the party immediately after dinner, I understand?”
“Yes, he said he had letters to write.”
“He didn’t show any wish for a business conference with Mr. Serrocold?”
“No.”
Miss Marple added:
“You see, they’d already had one little talk.”
“They had? When? I understood that Mr. Serrocold only returned home just before dinner.”
“That’s quite true, but he walked up through the park, and Mr. Gulbrandsen went out to meet him and they walkedup and down the terrace together.”
“Who else knows this?”
“I shouldn’t think anybody else,” said Miss Marple. “Unless, of course, Mr. Serrocold told Mrs. Serrocold. I justhappened to be looking out of my window—at some birds.”
“Birds?”
“Birds.” Miss Marple added after a moment or two, “I thought, perhaps, they might be siskins.”
Inspector Curry was uninterested in siskins.
“You didn’t,” he said delicately, “happen to—er—overhear anything of what they said?”
Innocent, china blue eyes met his.
“Only fragments, I’m afraid,” said Miss Marple gently.
“And those fragments?”
Miss Marple was silent a moment, then she said:
“I do not know the actual subject of their conversation, but their immediate concern was to keep whatever it wasfrom the knowledge of Mrs. Serrocold. To spare her—that was how Mr. Gulbrandsen put it, and Mr. Serrocold said, ‘Iagree that it is she who must be considered.’ They also mentioned a ‘big responsibility’ and that they should, perhaps,‘take outside advice.’”
She paused.
“I think, you know, you had better ask Mr. Serrocold himself about all this.”
“We shall do so, Ma’am. Now there is nothing else that struck you as unusual this evening?”
Miss Marple considered.
“It was all so unusual, if you know what I mean—”
“Quite so. Quite so.”
Something flickered into Miss Marple’s memory.
“There was one rather unusual incident. Mr. Serrocold stopped Mrs. Serrocold from taking her medicine. MissBellever was quite put out about it.”
She smiled in a deprecating fashion.
“But that, of course, is such a little thing….”
“Yes, of course. Well, thank you, Miss Marple.”
As Miss Marple went out of the room, Sergeant Lake said: “She’s old, but she’s sharp….”
第九章
柯里警督和助手们赶到时，大厅里只剩贝莱弗小姐一个人了。
她迅速迎了上去。
“我叫朱丽叶•贝莱弗，是塞罗科尔德夫人的秘书兼女伴。”
“发现尸体后给我们打电话的是你吗？”
“是的。家里的其他人都在书房——从那边的门进去就是。塞罗科尔德先生守在古尔布兰森先生的房间里，不让人动现场的物品。最先检查尸体的马弗里克大夫马上就到。他得把一个病人送到那边的楼里去。需要我带路吗？”
“如果您愿意，那再好不过了。”
能干的女人，警督心想，似乎把一切都安排好了。
他跟着她，沿着走廊朝前走。
随后的二十分钟，警察们按部就班地例行公事。摄影师拍了些照片，法医随后赶到，与马弗里克大夫一起检查尸体。半小时后，警车把克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的尸体带走了。
柯里警督开始官方问询。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德把柯里警督带进书房，柯里警督认真地打量着周围的人，在脑海里做了大致的总结。一个白发老太太；一位中年妇女；一位漂亮的年轻女孩，他曾见过她开车在乡间穿行；还有她那位看上去闷闷不乐的美国丈夫；另外还有两位外表或什么地方很相似的年轻人；最后是能干的管家贝莱弗小姐——她打电话报案，警察来了以后又招待得非常周到。
柯里警督把早就想好的一小段话说了出来。
“出了这样的事恐怕会让你们感到非常不安，”他说，“今天晚上我就不打扰了。我们可以从明天开始彻底地调查这个案子。发现古尔布兰森身亡的是贝莱弗小姐，我会让贝莱弗小姐向我大致讲述一下当时的情况，不必过于详细。塞罗科尔德先生，如果你要上楼看夫人，那就快去吧，和贝莱弗小姐谈完后我想和你谈谈。我说明白了吗？有没有房间可以供我们——”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德接话道：“乔利，让他们用我的办公室吧。”
贝莱弗点了点头。“我也是这么想的。”
她带着两个警察穿过大厅前往塞罗科尔德先生的办公室，柯里警督和随行警员跟在后面。
贝莱弗小姐的安排十分妥帖，好像是她而不是柯里警督在负责这件事。
但主动权终归还是要回到柯里警督手上。他的声音和态度都很和蔼，他沉静、严肃，又略带些歉意。有人低估了他的能力，但其实作为警督，他和贝莱弗小姐一样能干，只是不那么显山露水。
他清了清嗓子。
“塞罗科尔德先生已经把情况告诉我了。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森是古尔布兰森信托公司及基金会创始人埃里克•古尔布兰森先生的长子……他还介绍了其他一些情况。他是这儿的理事之一，昨天他突然造访，是吗？”
“是的。”
简洁的答复让柯里警督很高兴，他接着问：“塞罗科尔德先生去利物浦了。他是搭今天晚上六点半的火车回来的吗？”
“没错。”
“吃过晚饭以后，古尔布兰森先生说他想一个人在房间里工作，喝过咖啡便离开大家走了。我说得没错吧？”
“没错。”
“贝莱弗小姐，请描述一下发现尸体时的情况。”
“今晚发生了一件非常让人愤慨的事情，一个患有心理疾病的年轻人突然精神失常，用左轮手枪威胁塞罗科尔德先生。两个人锁在这个房间里，年轻人最后开枪了——那边的墙上留有弹孔。幸好塞罗科尔德先生没受伤。开枪后年轻人彻底垮了。塞罗科尔德先生让我去找马弗里克大夫，我就用家里的电话找他，他不在房间。找到他时，他正和一位同事待在一起，我把发生的事告诉他，他便马上来了。回来时我经过古尔布兰森的房间，想着问问他临睡前需不需要一杯热牛奶或威士忌什么的。于是我敲了敲门，但没人应答，我就推门进去，发现古尔布兰森先生死了，然后我便给你打了电话。”
“这幢房子都有哪些出入口？安全吗？外人有可能神不知鬼不觉地溜进来吗？”
“任何人都可以从通往平台的侧门进来，那个门供大家进出这幢学院大楼，睡觉前才上锁。”
“学院里有二百到二百五十名少年犯，对吧？”
“是的。但学院大楼的保安措施非常好，有专人巡逻。未经允许，任何人都不可能离开学院大楼。”
“我们会调查这一点的。古尔布兰森先生自身有没有被人诟病的地方——比如说跟谁结了怨？再比如说，他做过遭人反对的决定吗？”
贝莱弗小姐摇摇头。
“没有。古尔布兰森先生与学院管理或行政事务没关系。”
“他来访的目的是什么？”
“我不知道。”
“他发现塞罗科尔德先生不在时有些失望，并立刻决定等他回来，是吗？”
“是的。”
“这么说，他来这儿肯定与塞罗科尔德先生有关喽？”
“是的。肯定有关系——多半是学院的事情。”
“推测一下应该是这样的。他和塞罗科尔德先生谈过了吗？”
“没时间谈。塞罗科尔德先生晚饭前才回来。”
“饭后古尔布兰森先生说他有些重要的信要写，便回房去了。他没说要和塞罗科尔德先生谈一谈吗？”
贝莱弗小姐犹豫了一下。
“没。他没说。”
“太奇怪了——既然留下来是为了见塞罗科尔德先生，他为什么要去写什么信呢？”
“是的，的确有些怪。”
贝莱弗小姐似乎第一次觉察到了矛盾之处。
“塞罗科尔德先生陪他去房间了吗？”
“没有。塞罗科尔德先生留在了大厅里。”“你知道古尔布兰森先生是什么时候被杀的吗？”
“大概是枪响的时候。应该是九点二十三分。”
“你听见枪响了吗？当时没产生怀疑吗？”
“当时的情况有点特殊。”
她详细地描述了刘易斯•塞罗科尔德和埃德加•劳森之间发生的冲突。
“所以没人意识到枪声是从家里的其他地方传出来的，是吗？”
“是的。我当然没这么想。知道枪声不是从刘易斯先生办公室传来的时候，我们大伙都松了一口气。”
接着贝莱弗小姐阴沉着脸补充道：“没人想到谋杀与企图谋杀会在同一个晚上、同一幢房子里发生。”
柯里警督觉得这话非常在理。
“不过，”贝莱弗小姐又说，“后来我会去古尔布兰森先生的房间，可能也和早前听到过枪声有关。我确实想知道他需要什么，同时也想确认一下是否一切都正常。”
柯里警督看了她一会儿。
“你为什么觉得可能有异常？”
“我不知道。因为有‘枪声是在外面响起的’这种先入为主的印象，因此没多加注意。后来回想起这件事，我告诉自己，可能是雷斯塔里克先生的汽车发出的逆火声……”
“雷斯塔里克先生的车？”
“是的。亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克。他今天晚上开车过来，他是在出事以后才过来的。”
“这样啊。发现古尔布兰森先生的尸体后，你碰过房间里的东西吗？”
“当然没有。”贝莱弗小姐的声音听上去有几分不满，“我自然知道犯罪现场的东西既不能动也不能碰。古尔布兰森先生头部遭到枪击，但现场并没有武器，我当时就认定这是谋杀。”
“刚才领我们去那个房间时，房间里的摆设与你发现尸体时一样吗？”
贝莱弗小姐认真地思考着，她背靠着椅背，眯着双眼。她拥有柯里警督眼中如同照相机一般的记忆。
“只有一处不同，”她说，“打字机上没东西了。”
“你是说第一次进去时，古尔布兰森先生的打字机上有他写的信？”柯里警督说，“和我们一起进去的时候却被人拿走了？”
“是的，我确信看见过打字机里翘出的白纸边。”
“贝莱弗小姐，谢谢你。我们来以前谁还进过那个房间？”
“塞罗科尔德先生进去过，我出来接你时他还在那儿。塞罗科尔德夫人和马普尔小姐也进去过。是塞罗科尔德夫人坚持要去的。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人和马普尔小姐，”警督说，“谁是马普尔小姐？”
“那个白发老太太。她是塞罗科尔德夫人上学时的闺蜜，她是四天前来的。”
“谢谢你，贝莱弗小姐。你的讲述非常清晰，我这就去和塞罗科尔德先生谈谈。但也许我会先和——马普尔小姐是位老太太，对吗？我先去和她谈，然后她就可以休息了。不让老年人休息实在有些过分，这件事肯定对她打击很大。”柯里警督同情地说。
“我去告诉她，可以吗？”
“那再好不过了。”
贝莱弗小姐出了门。柯里警督抬头看着天花板，陷入了沉思。
“古尔布兰森？”他自言自语道，“为什么是古尔布兰森呢？房子里有两百多个精神不正常的少年犯，任何人都可能杀人。也许是其中的哪个人干的，但为什么要杀古尔布兰森呢？为什么要杀个外人啊？这完全没道理。”
莱克警员说：“不了解全部情况时无法下结论。”
柯里警督说：“是啊，目前我们还什么都不知道呢。”
马普尔小姐进屋时警督马上站了起来，显得很有风度。马普尔小姐似乎有些惊慌，他赶紧上前抚慰。
“女士，不用心烦意乱。”他觉得年纪大的人喜欢被称为“女士”。在他看来，警察属于低层次的人，应当对高层次的人表示尊重。“已经发生的事让人很沮丧，但我们得把事实弄清楚。让真相大白于天下。”
“是的。”马普尔小姐说，“但一定非常困难吧？我是说把所有事情弄明白。人们常常顾此失彼，而且常把注意力放在错误的地方，有时是无意中造成的，有时是被人误导。变魔术的人就爱玩这种指错方向的伎俩。他们很聪明，不是吗？我搞不清他是怎么把碗里的金鱼变没的——碗又不能变小，你说是不是？”
柯里警督眨眨眼，用安慰的语气说：“你说得一点没错。女士，我已经从贝莱弗小姐那儿听说了今晚发生的事，我相信你们现在一定都很担心。”
“的确如此，这简直像在演戏，让人不明所以。”
“先是塞罗科尔德先生和埃德加•劳森之间的吵闹。”警督低头看了一眼所做的记录。
“一个非常奇怪的年轻人，”马普尔小姐说，“我一来就觉得他很不对劲。”
“你自然会这样认为。”柯里警督说，“这阵喧闹后，传来了古尔布兰森先生的死讯。之后你便和塞罗科尔德夫人去看了——去看了……尸体，是吗？”
“是的，她让我陪她去，我们是多年的朋友了。”
“你们一起去了古尔布兰森先生的房间。你们当中有没有人碰过房间里的东西？”
“没有。塞罗科尔德先生不让我们碰任何东西。”
“女士，你有没有恰巧注意到打字机里放着一张纸或一封信？”
“没有，”马普尔小姐飞快地说，“我当时马上就注意到了这件事，因为我觉得很奇怪。
坐在那儿的古尔布兰森先生肯定是要打什么东西，可打字机上什么都没有。是的，我当时就觉得很怪。”
柯里警督犀利地看了她一眼。
“你和古尔布兰森先生说过话吗？”
“没说过几句。”
“你能想起什么特别有意义或十分重要的话吗？”
马普尔小姐想了想。
“他向我打听塞罗科尔德夫人的健康状况。特别是她的心脏。”
“她的心脏？她的心脏有什么问题吗？”
“据我所知没什么问题。”
柯里警督沉默了片刻，然后问马普尔小姐：“塞罗科尔德先生和埃德加•劳森争吵时你听到枪响了吗？”
“其实我没听见。我耳朵有些背。我听塞罗科尔德夫人说，似乎是从外面的停车场里传来的枪响。”
“古尔布兰森先生晚饭后和大伙告别，然后马上就离开了，是吗？”
“是的，他说有几封信要写。”
“他没说有事要和塞罗科尔德先生谈吗？”
“没有。”
马普尔小姐马上又补充了一句：“他们已经简短地谈过一次了。”
“谈过了吗？什么时候谈的？塞罗科尔德先生不是一回来就吃晚饭了吗？”
“他们是在塞罗科尔德先生进门前谈的。塞罗科尔德先生穿过停车场，古尔布兰森先生出门见他，两人在平台上走了几个来回。”
“还有谁知道这事？”
“我想没人知道。”马普尔小姐回答，“除非塞罗科尔德先生告诉了他的夫人。当时我碰巧在窗边看鸟。”
“看鸟？”
“是啊。”马普尔小姐想了片刻，说，“我想可能是金丝雀。”
柯里警督对金丝雀不感兴趣。
“你有没有碰巧……”他婉转地问，“偶然……听到他们说了什么？”
马普尔小姐纯真的蓝眼睛正巧对上了柯里警督的双眼。
“只有零散的几句。”马普尔小姐轻声说。
“能告诉我吗？”
马普尔小姐沉默了一会儿，然后说：“我不知道他们究竟在谈什么，但他们有什么事瞒着塞罗科尔德夫人。要瞒着她——这是古尔布兰森先生的原话，塞罗科尔德先生说‘的确必须考虑到她的因素’。他们还提到了什么‘重大责任’，还说他们应该‘听一听别人的意见’。”
她停了一下又说：“这事你最好去问问塞罗科尔德先生本人。”
“女士，我会问他的。今晚还有什么让你觉得奇怪的事呢？”
马普尔小姐想了想。
“一切都挺怪的，我想你应该明白我的意思……”
“是啊。的确是这样的，没错。”
马普尔小姐突然想起了什么。
“有件很怪的事。塞罗科尔德先生不让塞罗科尔德夫人吃药，贝莱弗小姐很不高兴。”她不以为然地笑了笑，“当然这不是什么大事……”
“是啊，的确不是什么大事。谢谢你，马普尔小姐。”
马普尔小姐走出房间时，莱克警员自言自语道：“她虽然
Chapter Ten
Ten
L ewis Serrocold came into the office and immediately the whole focus of the room shifted. He turned to close thedoor behind him, and in doing so he created an atmosphere of privacy. He walked over and sat down, not in the chairMiss Marple had just vacated but in his own chair behind the desk. Miss Bellever had settled Inspector Curry in achair drawn up to one side of the desk, as though unconsciously she had reserved Lewis Serrocold’s chair against hiscoming.
When he had sat down, Lewis Serrocold looked at the two police officers thoughtfully. His face looked drawn andtired. It was the face of a man who was passing through a severe ordeal, and it surprised Inspector Curry a littlebecause, though Christian Gulbrandsen’s death must undeniably have been a shock to Lewis Serrocold, yetGulbrandsen had not been a close friend or relation, only a rather remote connection by marriage.
In an odd way, the tables seemed to have been turned. It did not seem as though Lewis Serrocold had come into theroom to answer police questioning. It seemed rather that Lewis Serrocold had arrived to preside over a court ofinquiry. It irritated Inspector Curry a little.
He said briskly: “Now, Mr. Serrocold—”
Lewis Serrocold still seemed lost in thought. He said with a sigh, “How difficult it is to know the right thing to do.”
Inspector Curry said:
“I think we will be the judges as to that, Mr. Serrocold. Now about Mr. Gulbrandsen, he arrived unexpectedly, Iunderstand?”
“Quite unexpectedly.”
“You did not know he was coming?”
“I had not the least idea of it.”
“And you have no idea of why he came?”
Lewis Serrocold said quietly,
“Oh yes, I know why he came. He told me.”
“When?”
“I walked up from the station. He was watching from the house and came out to meet me. It was then that heexplained what had brought him here.”
“Business connected with the Gulbrandsen Institute, I suppose?”
“Oh no, it was nothing to do with the Gulbrandsen Institute.”
“Miss Bellever seemed to think it was.”
“Naturally. That would be the assumption. Gulbrandsen did nothing to correct that impression. Neither did I.”
“Why, Mr. Serrocold?”
Lewis Serrocold said slowly:
“Because it seemed to both of us important that no hint should arise as to the real purpose of his visit.”
“What was the real purpose?”
Lewis Serrocold was silent for a minute or two. He sighed.
“Gulbrandsen came over here regularly twice a year for meetings of the trustees. The last meeting was only amonth ago. Consequently he was not due to come over again for another five months. I think, therefore, that anyonemight realise that the business that brought him must definitely be urgent business, but I still think that the normalassumption would be that it was a business visit, and that the matter—however urgent—would be a Trust matter. Asfar as I know, Gulbrandsen did nothing to contradict that impression—or thought he didn’t. Yes, perhaps that is nearerthe truth—he thought he didn’t.”
“I’m afraid, Mr. Serrocold, that I don’t quite follow you.”
Lewis Serrocold did not answer at once. Then he said gravely:
“I fully realise that with Gulbrandsen’s death—which was murder, undeniably murder, I have got to put all thefacts before you. But, frankly, I am concerned for my wife’s happiness and peace of mind. It is not for me to dictate toyou, Inspector, but if you can see your way to keeping certain things from her as far as possible, I shall be grateful.
You see, Inspector Curry, Christian Gulbrandsen came here expressly to tell me that he believed my wife was beingslowly and cold-bloodedly poisoned.”
“What?”
Curry leaned forward incredulously.
Serrocold nodded.
“Yes, it was, as you can imagine, a tremendous shock to me. I had had no suspicion of such a thing myself, but assoon as Christian told me, I realised that certain symptoms my wife had complained of lately, were quite compatiblewith that belief. What she took to be rheumatism, leg cramps, pain, and occasional sickness. All that fits in very wellwith the symptoms of arsenic poisoning.”
“Miss Marple told us that Christian Gulbrandsen asked her about the condition of Mrs. Serrocold’s heart?”
“Did he now? That is interesting. I suppose he thought that a heart poison would be used since it paved the way toa sudden death without undue suspicion. But I think myself that arsenic is more likely.”
“You definitely think, then, that Christian Gulbrandsen’s suspicions were well founded?”
“Oh yes, I think so. For one thing, Gulbrandsen would hardly come to me with such a suggestion unless he wasfairly sure of his facts. He was a cautious and hardheaded man, difficult to convince, but very shrewd.”
“What was his evidence?”
“We had no time to go into that. Our interview was a hurried one. It served only the purpose of explaining his visit,and a mutual agreement that nothing whatever should be said to my wife about the matter until we were sure of ourfacts.”
“And whom did he suspect of administering poison?”
“He did not say, and actually I don’t think he knew. He may have suspected. I think now that he probably didsuspect—otherwise why should he be killed?”
“But he mentioned no name to you?”
“He mentioned no name. We agreed that we must investigate the matter thoroughly, and he suggested inviting theadvice and cooperation of Dr. Galbraith, the Bishop of Cromer. Dr. Galbraith is a very old friend of the Gulbrandsensand is one of the trustees of the Institute. He is a man of great wisdom and experience and would be of great help andcomfort to my wife if—if it was necessary to tell her of our suspicions. We meant to rely on his advice as to whetheror not to consult the police.”
“Quite extraordinary,” said Curry.
“Gulbrandsen left us after dinner to write to Dr. Galbraith. He was actually in the act of typing a letter to him whenhe was shot.”
“How do you know?”
Lewis said calmly,
“Because I took the letter out of the typewriter. I have it here.”
From his breast pocket, he drew out a folded typewritten sheet of paper and handed it to Curry.
The latter said sharply.
“You shouldn’t have taken this, or touched anything in the room.”
“I touched nothing else. I know that I committed an unpardonable offence in your eyes in moving this, but I had avery strong reason. I felt certain that my wife would insist on coming into the room and I was afraid that she mightread something of what is written here. I admit myself in the wrong, but I am afraid I would do the same again. Iwould do anything—anything—to save my wife unhappiness.”
Inspector Curry said no more for the moment. He read the typewritten sheet.
Dear Dr. Galbraith. If it is at all possible, I beg that you will come to Stonygates as soon as you receive this.
A crisis of extraordinary gravity has arisen and I am at a loss how to deal with it. I know how deep youraffection is for our dear Carrie Louise, and how grave your concern will be for anything that affects her.
How much has she got to know? How much can we keep from her? Those are the questions that I find sodifficult to answer.
Not to beat about the bush, I have reason to believe that that sweet and innocent lady is being slowlypoisoned. I first suspected this when—
Here the letter broke off abruptly.
Curry said:
“And when he had reached this point, Christian Gulbrandsen was shot?”
“Yes.”
“But why on earth was this letter left in the typewriter?”
“I can only conceive of two reasons—one that the murderer had no idea to whom Gulbrandsen was writing andwhat was the subject of the letter. Secondly—he may not have had time. He may have heard someone coming andonly had just time to escape unobserved.”
“And Gulbrandsen gave you no hint as to who he suspected—if he did suspect anyone?”
There was, perhaps, a very slight pause before Lewis answered. “None whatever.”
He added, rather obscurely:
“Christian was a very fair man.”
“How do you think this poison, arsenic or whatever it may be—was or is being administered?”
“I thought over that whilst I was changing for dinner, and it seemed to me that the most likely vehicle was somemedicine, a tonic, that my wife was taking. As regards food we all partook of the same dishes and my wife has nothingspecially prepared for her. But anyone could add arsenic to the medicine bottle.”
“We must take the medicine and have it analysed.”
Lewis said quietly:
“I already have a sample of it. I took it this evening before dinner.”
From a drawer in the desk, he took out a small, corked bottle with a red fluid in it.
Inspector Curry said with a curious glance:
“You think of everything, Mr. Serrocold.”
“I believe in acting promptly. Tonight, I stopped my wife from taking her usual dose. It is still in a glass on the oakdresser in the Hall—the bottle of tonic itself is in the drawing room.”
Curry leaned forward across the desk. He lowered his voice and spoke confidentially and without officialdom.
“You’ll excuse me, Mr. Serrocold, but just why are you so anxious to keep this from your wife? Are you afraidshe’d panic? Surely, for her own sake, it would be as well if she were warned.”
“Yes—yes, that may well be so. But I don’t think you quite understand. Without knowing my wife, Caroline, itwould be difficult. My wife, Inspector Curry, is an idealist, a completely trustful person. Of her it may truly be saidthat she sees no evil, hears no evil, and speaks no evil. It would be inconceivable to her that anyone could wish to killher. But we have to go farther than that. It is not just ‘anyone.’ It is a case—surely you see that—of somebodypossibly very near and dear to her….”
“So that’s what you think?”
“We have got to face facts. Close at hand we have a couple of hundred warped and stunted personalities who haveexpressed themselves often enough by crude and senseless violence. But by the very nature of things, none of themcan be suspect in this case. A slow poisoner is someone living in the intimacy of family life. Think of the people whoare here in this house; her husband, her daughter, her granddaughter, her granddaughter’s husband, her stepson whomshe regards as her own son, Miss Bellever, her devoted companion and friend of many years. All very near and dear toher—and yet the suspicion must arise—is it one of them?”
Curry answered slowly,
“There are outsiders—”
“Yes, in a sense. There is Dr. Maverick, one or two of the staff are often with us, there are the servants—but,frankly, what possible motive could they have?”
Inspector Curry said,
“And there’s young—what is his name again—Edgar Lawson?”
“Yes. But he has only been down here as a casual visitor just lately. He has no possible motive. Besides, he isdeeply attached to Caroline—just as everyone is.”
“But he’s unbalanced. What about this attack on you tonight?”
Serrocold waved it aside impatiently.
“Sheer childishness. He had no intention of harming me.”
“Not with these two bullet holes in the wall? He shot at you, didn’t he?”
“He didn’t mean to hit me. It was playacting, no more.”
“Rather a dangerous form of playacting, Mr. Serrocold.”
“You don’t understand. You must talk to our psychiatrist, Dr. Maverick. Edgar is an illegitimate child. He hasconsoled himself for his lack of a father and a humble origin by pretending to himself that he is the son of a celebratedman. It’s a well-known phenomenon, I assure you. He was improving, improving very much. Then, for some reason,he had a setback. He identified me as his ‘father’ and made a melodramatic attack, waving a revolver and utteringthreats. I was not in the least alarmed. When he had actually fired the revolver, he broke down and sobbed, and Dr.
Maverick took him away and gave him a sedative. He’ll probably be quite normal tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t wish to bring a charge against him?”
“That would be the worst thing possible—for him, I mean.”
“Frankly, Mr. Serrocold, it seems to me he ought to be under restraint. People who go about firing off revolvers tobolster up their egos—! One has to think of the community, you know.”
“Talk to Dr. Maverick on the subject,” urged Lewis. “He’ll give you the professional point of view. In any case,”
he added, “poor Edgar certainly did not shoot Gulbrandsen. He was in here threatening to shoot me.”
“That’s the point I was coming to, Mr. Serrocold. We’ve covered the outside. Anyone, it seems, could have comein from outside, and shot Mr. Gulbrandsen, since the terrace door was unlocked. But there is a narrower field insidethe house, and in view of what you have been telling me, it seems to me that very close attention must be paid to that.
It seems possible that, with the exception of old Miss—er—yes, Marple who happened to be looking out of herbedroom window, no one was aware that you and Christian Gulbrandsen had already had a private interview. If so,Gulbrandsen may have been shot to prevent him communicating his suspicions to you. Of course, it is too early to sayas yet what other motives may exist. Mr. Gulbrandsen was a wealthy man, I presume?”
“Yes, he was a very wealthy man. He has sons and daughters and grandchildren—all of whom will probablybenefit by his death. But I do not think that any of his family are in this country, and they are all solid and highlyrespectable people. As far as I know, there are no black sheep amongst them.”
“Had he any enemies?”
“I should think it most unlikely. He was—really, he was not that type of man.”
“So it boils down, doesn’t it, to this house and the people in it? Who from inside the house could have killed him?”
Lewis Serrocold said slowly,
“That is difficult for me to say. There are the servants and the members of my household and our guests. They are,from your point of view, all possibilities, I suppose. I can only tell you that, as far as I know, everyone except theservants was in the Great Hall when Christian left it and whilst I was there, nobody left it.”
“Nobody at all?”
“I think”—Lewis frowned in an effort of remembrance—“oh yes. Some of the lights fused—Mr. Walter Huddwent to see to it.”
“That’s the young American gentleman?”
“Yes—of course, I don’t know what took place after Edgar and I came in here.”
“And you can’t give me anything nearer than that, Mr. Serrocold?”
Lewis Serrocold shook his head.
“No, I’m afraid I can’t help you. It’s—it’s all quite inconceivable.”
Inspector Curry sighed. He said:
“You can tell the party that they can all go to bed. I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”
When Serrocold had left the room, Inspector Curry said to Lake:
“Well—what do you think?”
“Knows—or thinks he knows, who did it,” said Lake.
“Yes. I agree with you. And he doesn’t like it a bit….”
第十章
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德走进办公室，房间里所有人的注意力都聚集到了他的身上。他转身关上门，营造出一种私密的气氛，然后走过来坐下——但没坐在马普尔小姐坐过的椅子上，而是坐在桌后，他自己的办公椅上。贝莱弗小姐方才让柯里警督坐在桌子旁边的椅子上，似乎无意间给刘易斯•塞罗科尔德的到来留了一把椅子。
坐下以后，刘易斯•塞罗科尔德若有所思地看了看两名警察。他拉长了脸，看上去非常疲倦。这张脸让人以为此人正在历经一次磨难，这让柯里警督颇感意外。古尔布兰森与刘易斯既不是好友也不是亲戚，只是因为婚姻才沾了点亲，但克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的死却像是给他造成了极大的打击。
双方坐的位置似乎倒了个个。不像是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德先生在回答警方的提问，倒像是他在主持询问似的。这让柯里警督稍稍有些不快。
他飞快地道出了开场白：“塞罗科尔德先生——”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德似乎还沉浸在思考中，他叹了一口气说：“要知道怎么做才对，真是太难了。”
柯里警督说：“塞罗科尔德先生，对不对可以由我们来进行分辨。现在，我们来谈谈古尔布兰森先生的事好吗？他来得十分突然，是吗？”
“十分突然。”
“你不知道他要来。”
“一点都不知道。”
“你也不知道他为什么来？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德平静地说：“不，我知道，他告诉我了。”
“他是什么时候告诉你的？”
“我从车站回来。他从窗户往外看，看见我后他出来找我，当时他解释了来的原因。”
“是与古尔布兰森学院有关的事吗？”
“不，与古尔布兰森学院没有任何关系。”
“贝莱弗小姐似乎也这么想。”
“外界自然会这么猜测。古尔布兰森没有否定这种猜测，我也没有。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，这是为何？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德缓缓地说：“我们认为，隐瞒他此次来访的真正目的非常重要。”
“那真正目的是什么？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德沉默了片刻，然后长叹一口气。
“古尔布兰森每年定期来参加两次理事会，上次开会是一个月以前的事，按照常规他应当五个月后再来。所以一般人会认为他这次来是有紧急的事务要处理，人们会觉得这是次商务之旅，无论事急事缓，总归是信托公司的事。据我所知，古尔布兰森没有刻意改变外人的这个印象——也可以说他认为没人知道他的真正目的。也许这样说比较接近事实——他认为没人猜得出他此行的目的。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，我不明白你在说什么。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德没有马上给出答复。过了一会儿，他严肃地说：“由于古尔布兰森的死——他肯定死于谋杀——我必须把全部事实告诉你们。但坦率地说，我为我妻子的幸福与安宁感到担心。警督，我不想命令你什么，但如果你能有什么办法不让她知道一些事情，我会非常感激。柯里警督，克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森来这儿是想告诉我，他认为有个冷血的人，在蓄谋缓慢地毒死我太太。”
“你说什么？”
柯里疑惑地朝前探出身子。
塞罗科尔德点点头。
“是的，你可以想象得到，这对我是个多么沉重的打击。我从来没想过会发生这种事，克里斯蒂安告诉我这事以后，我才意识到妻子最近抱怨的症状正好证实了他的说法。她得了风湿病，腿部肌肉痉挛，还经常犯恶心——这都符合砒霜中毒的症状。”
“马普尔小姐告诉我们克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森问过她塞罗科尔德夫人的心脏情况。”
“这很有趣。我猜他认为有人用了心脏毒剂，因为这样做可以不引人怀疑地导致突然死亡。但我觉得更可能是砒霜。”
“你认为克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的怀疑是有根据的？”
“是的。首先，除非他很肯定，否则不会下这样的断言。他是个细心而固执的人，很难被说服，但他精明老道，什么事都瞒不了他。”
“他有什么证据吗？”
“我们还没时间讨论，昨天只是匆匆聊了几句。他解释了来此地的目的，我们都同意，在证据确凿之前不让我夫人知道这件事。”
“他怀疑谁在下毒呢？”
“他没说，我认为他不知道。他可能怀疑过谁。我认为他的确有所怀疑——不然怎么会被人杀了呢？”
“他没向你提过那个人的名字吗？”
“没提到具体名字。我们认为必须彻底调查这件事，他说应当征求克罗默主教加尔布雷思大夫的意见，并请他与我们合作。加尔布雷思大夫是古尔布兰森家的老朋友，也是学院的理事之一。他很聪明，也很有经验。如果有必要告诉我妻子实情的话，请加尔布雷思帮忙肯定十分有用，对我太太也将带来莫大的安慰。我们可以参考他的意见，看看是否让警方参与。”
“太令人惊讶了。”柯里说。
“晚饭后，古尔布兰森离开我们去给加尔布雷思写信，被杀时他正在写那封信。”
“你是怎么知道的？”
刘易斯平静地回答：“我把信从打字机里拿出来了。”
他从上衣口袋里拿出一张折叠着的打字机用纸，交给柯里警督。
柯里严肃地说：“你不该拿这张纸，也不该动房间里的任何东西。”
“别的我什么都没动。我知道在你眼里我犯了一个不可原谅的错误，但我这么做是有理由的。我知道我太太会坚持到那个房间去，我担心她会看见纸上打的那些字。我承认自己做得不对，但如果再发生这种情况，我还是会这么做的。为了让太太高兴，我什么都能做，我只想让她开心。”
柯里警督没再说话，他看着拿到的打字机用纸。
亲爱的加尔布雷思大夫，你好。
如果可能的话，我请求你见信后马上来石门山庄。这里正在发生一件极其严重的事，我不知该如何应对。我知道你很关心卡莉•路易丝，对影响她健康的因素非常在意。她已经知道了多少？我们又能对她隐瞒多少？这两个问题我很难回答。
不再绕圈子了，我有理由相信这位可爱的女士正被人慢慢毒死。最初产生怀疑是在——
信写到这里便戛然而止。
柯里说：“写到这儿时克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森被人枪杀了，是吗？”
“是的。”
“那为什么信还留在打字机里呢？”
“我只能想出两个原因——其一，凶手不知道古尔布兰森正在写信，也不知道信里说了些什么。其二，也许凶手没时间拿走。他可能听见有人来了，只想赶快溜走。”
“古尔布兰森没向你暗示他怀疑的是谁吗——如果有所怀疑的话？”
刘易斯稍微犹豫了一下，然后回答了这个问题。
“没跟我暗示过。”他又意图不明地补充了一句，“克里斯蒂安是个非常好的人。”
“你怎么看砒霜之类的投毒？——你觉得投毒会如何进行呢？”
“换衣服准备吃晚饭时我思考了一会儿，最有可能的途径只能是药或补品，我太太吃很多药。说到吃饭，大家都在一个盘子里吃饭，我太太吃的也没什么两样。药和补品就不一样了，任何人都可能往她的药瓶里投砒霜。”
“我们必须把药拿去分析。”
刘易斯平静地说：“我已经拿了些样品，晚上吃饭前我去拿了些。”
他从桌子抽屉里拿出一个盛着红色液体的带盖小瓶。
柯里警督好奇地看了他一眼。
“塞罗科尔德先生，你把什么都想到了啊。”
“事情就该办得麻利些。今晚，我没让妻子像往常一样服药。药还在大厅橡木梳妆台上的玻璃杯里放着——补药放在餐厅。”
柯里探过身子，用不带官腔的语气轻声对他说：“塞罗科尔德先生，为什么你怕她知道？是因为她会惊慌失措吗？为了她好，你该让她知道。”
“是的，也许该让她知道。但我想你不会明白的，不了解我太太的话，很难跟你说得清。柯里警督，我夫人是一个理想主义者，别人说什么她都会信。她的眼中、耳中和言谈之间都没有罪恶。她肯定不会相信有人想害死她。但事实还不止于此，不只是‘有人’，这个人还是个和她非常亲近的人……”
“你是这么想的吗？”
“我们得面对现实。我们周围有几百个性情奇怪、有成长障碍的年轻人，他们经常通过粗暴无礼的方式来发泄情绪。但从这件事的本质来看，他们都不是本案的嫌疑人。一个能长时间下毒的人肯定和家里很近。丈夫、女儿、外甥女、外甥女婿、视如己出的继子，忠诚陪伴多年的贝莱弗小姐——这些人是她最亲近的人。怀疑也由此产生，是其中某个人干的吗？”
柯里缓缓地说：“还有外面的人呢？”
“从某种意义上说，的确有这种可能。马弗里克大夫和一两个工作人员总和我们在一起，另外还有家里的用人们，但说老实话，这些人有什么动机呢？”
柯里警督说：“还有那个年轻人……他叫什么来着？是埃德加•劳森吗？”
“没错。不过他是最近才来的，只是个不速之客，没什么动机。此外，他很喜欢卡罗琳——这点跟别人一样。”
“他非常不正常。怎么解释他今晚对你的袭击呢？”
塞罗科尔德不耐烦地挥了挥手。
“只是孩子气罢了。他根本没想伤害我。”
“墙上的两个弹孔怎么说？他朝你开了枪，是吗？”
“他并不是存心想害我，只是演演戏罢了。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，这种演戏方式太危险了。”
“你不明白。要想明白，必须找我们的精神病专家马弗里克大夫谈谈。埃德加是个私生子，为了强大自己，他把自己伪装成名人的儿子。他没有父亲，出身卑微。告诉你，这种现象很常见。他正在慢慢恢复，而且恢复得很快。不知为何，昨天他的病情突然有了反复，把我当成他的‘父亲’，挥动着左轮手枪夸张地向我进攻，还不断威胁我。但我丝毫没有感到惊慌。开枪以后，他就完全崩溃了，还不断哭泣。马弗里克大夫带走了他，给他服用了镇静剂。明早他多半就能恢复正常了。”
“你不想起诉他吗？”
“对他而言这样太糟了。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，坦白跟你说，我觉得他应当被关起来，不该让他拿着枪到处溜达——总得考虑周围的人啊。”
“和马弗里克大夫谈这事吧。无论如何，他会从专业角度给出分析的。”刘易斯说，“肯定不是埃德加打死古尔布兰森的，他那时正要朝我开枪呢。”
“我正要谈到这一点，塞罗科尔德先生。我们想过了外面的情况：平台上的门没锁，好像谁都可能从外面进来打死古尔布兰森先生；屋里也有条不太会被注意的狭长地带，考虑到你刚刚说的话，我认为应该仔细留意那个地带。除了年迈的马普尔小姐之外，似乎没人知道你已经和克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森私下里谈过了。如果是这样的话，把古尔布兰森打死就是为了阻止他把怀疑告诉你。当然，现在要说没有别的什么动机为时尚早。古尔布兰森很富有，对吧？”
“是的，他很有钱。他有儿子、女儿和孙子、孙女——这些人都能从他的死中获益。但他的家人都不在国内，他们都是些可靠而受人尊敬的人。据我所知，都是些不错的人。”
“他有仇人吗？”
“我认为不太可能，他不是那种人。”
“这样一来范围就缩小了。凶手只可能是这幢房子里面的人。房子里有谁会杀了他呢？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德缓缓地说：“很难说，家里有用人、家人和客人。以你的观点来看，这些人都是怀疑对象。就我所知，我只能告诉你克里斯蒂安离开大厅时，除了用人，别人都在大厅里。我在的时候，没有任何人离开过那个大厅。”
“一个人都没有吗？”
“让我想想。”刘易斯皱着眉努力回忆，“对了，那时有几盏灯的保险丝烧断了，沃尔特•赫德出去接过保险丝。”
“是那个年轻的美国小伙吗？”
“是的……不过我和埃德加进了这个房间之后，外面发生了什么事我就不知道了。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，你无法再提供些更有用的线索了吗？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德摇了摇头。
“恐怕我帮不了你——这实在太难以置信了。”
柯里警督叹了口气说：“古尔布兰森先生被人用一把自动小手枪打死了。你知道住在这里的人中谁有自动小手枪吗？”
“不知道，我觉得他们都不可能有。”
柯里警督又叹了一口气说：“告诉大家可以休息了。我明早再和他们谈。”
塞罗科尔德出门后，柯里警督对莱克说：“你怎么看呢？”
“他知道——或者说他觉得自己知道是谁干的。”莱克说。
“对。我也这么觉得。但他不想……”
Chapter Eleven
Eleven
1G ina greeted Miss Marple with a rush as the latter came down to breakfast the next morning.
“The police are here again,” she said. “They’re in the library this time. Wally is absolutely fascinated by them. Hecan’t understand their being so quiet and so remote. I think he’s really quite thrilled by the whole thing. I’m not. I hateit. I think it’s horrible. Why do you think I’m so upset? Because I’m half Italian?”
“Very possibly. At least perhaps it explains why you don’t mind showing what you feel.”
Miss Marple smiled just a little as she said this.
“Jolly’s frightfully cross,” said Gina, hanging on Miss Marple’s arm and propelling her into the dining room. “Ithink really because the police are in charge and she can’t exactly ‘run’ them like she runs everybody else.
“Alex and Stephen,” continued Gina severely, as they came into the dining room where the two brothers werefinishing their breakfast, “just don’t care.”
“Gina dearest,” said Alex, “you are most unkind. Good morning, Miss Marple. I care intensely. Except for the factthat I hardly knew your Uncle Christian, I’m far and away the best suspect. You do realise that, I hope.”
“Why?”
“Well, I was driving up to the house at about the right time, it seems. And they’ve been checking up on times and itseems that I took too much time between the lodge and the house—time enough, the implication is, to leave the car,run round the house, go in through the side door, shoot Christian and rush out and back to the car again.”
“And what were you really doing?”
“I thought little girls were taught quite young not to ask indelicate questions. Like an idiot, I stood for severalminutes taking in the fog effect in the headlights and thinking what I’d use to get that effect on a stage. For my new‘Limehouse’ ballet.”
“But you can tell them that!”
“Naturally. But you know what policemen are like. They say ‘thank you’ very civilly and write it all down, andyou’ve no idea what they are thinking except that one does feel they have rather sceptical minds.”
“It would amuse me to see you in a spot, Alex,” said Stephen with his thin, rather cruel smile. “Now I’m quite allright! I never left the Hall last night.”
Gina cried, “But they couldn’t possibly think it was one of us!”
Her dark eyes were round and dismayed.
“Don’t say it must have been a tramp, dear,” said Alex, helping himself lavishly to marmalade. “It’s sohackneyed.”
Miss Bellever looked in at the door and said:
“Miss Marple, when you have finished your breakfast, will you go to the library?”
“You again,” said Gina. “Before any of us.”
She seemed a little injured.
“Hi, what was that?” asked Alex.
“Didn’t hear anything,” said Stephen.
“It was a pistol shot.”
“They’ve been firing shots in the room where Uncle Christian was killed,” said Gina. “I don’t know why. Andoutside too.”
The door opened again and Mildred Strete came in. She was wearing black with some onyx beads.
She murmured good morning without looking at anyone and sat down.
In a hushed voice she said:
“Some tea, please, Gina. Nothing much to eat—just some toast.”
She touched her nose and eyes delicately with the handkerchief she held in one hand. Then she raised her eyes andlooked in an un-seeing way at the two brothers. Stephen and Alex became uncomfortable. Their voices dropped toalmost a whisper and presently they got up and left.
Mildred Strete said, whether to the universe or Miss Marple was not quite certain, “Not even a black tie!”
“I don’t suppose,” said Miss Marple apologetically, “that they knew beforehand that a murder was going tohappen.”
Gina made a smothered sound and Mildred Strete looked sharply at her.
“Where’s Walter this morning?” she asked.
Gina flushed.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”
She sat there uneasily like a guilty child.
Miss Marple got up.
“I’ll go to the library now,” she said.
2Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window in the library.
There was no one else in the room.
He turned as Miss Marple came in and came forward to meet her, taking her hand in his.
“I hope,” he said, “that you are not feeling the worse for the shock. To be at close quarters with what isundoubtedly murder must be a great strain on anyone who has not come in contact with such a thing before.”
Modesty forbade Miss Marple to reply that she was, by now, quite at home with murder. She merely said that lifein St. Mary Mead was not quite so sheltered as outside people believed.
“Very nasty things go on in a village, I assure you,” she said. “One has an opportunity of studying things there thatone would never have in a town.”
Lewis Serrocold listened indulgently, but with only half an ear.
He said very simply: “I want your help.”
“But of course, Mr. Serrocold.”
“It is a matter that affects my wife—affects Caroline. I think that you are really attached to her?”
“Yes, indeed. Everyone is.”
“That is what I believed. It seems that I am wrong. With the permission of Inspector Curry, I am going to tell yousomething that no one else as yet knows. Or perhaps I should say what only one person knows.”
Briefly, he told her what he had told Inspector Curry the night before.
Miss Marple looked horrified.
“I can’t believe it, Mr. Serrocold. I really can’t believe it.”
“That is what I felt when Christian Gulbrandsen told me.”
“I should have said that dear Carrie Louise had not got an enemy in the world.”
“It seems incredible that she should have. But you see the implication? Poisoning—slow poisoning—is an intimatefamily matter. It must be one of our closely knit little household—”
“If it is true. Are you sure that Mr. Gulbrandsen was not mistaken?”
“Christian was not mistaken. He is too cautious a man to make such a statement without foundation. Besides, thepolice took away Caroline’s medicine bottle and a separate sample of its contents. There was arsenic in both of them—and arsenic was not prescribed. The actual quantitative tests will take longer—but the actual fact of arsenic beingpresent is established.”
“Then her rheumatism—the difficulty in walking—all that—”
“Yes, leg cramps are typical, I understand. Also, before you came, Caroline had had one or two severe attacks of agastric nature—I never dreamed until Christian came—”
He broke off. Miss Marple said softly: “So Ruth was right!”
“Ruth?”
Lewis Serrocold sounded surprised. Miss Marple flushed.
“There is something I have not told you. My coming here was not entirely fortuitous. If you will let me explain—I’m afraid I tell things so badly. Please have patience.”
Lewis Serrocold listened whilst Miss Marple told him of Ruth’s unease and urgency.
“Extraordinary,” he commented. “I had no idea of this.”
“It was all so vague,” said Miss Marple. “Ruth herself didn’t know why she had this feeling. There must be areason—in my experience there always is—but ‘something wrong’ was as near as she could get.”
Lewis Serrocold said grimly:
“Well, it seems that she was right. Now, Miss Marple, you see how I am placed. Am I to tell Caroline of this?”
Miss Marple said quickly, “Oh no,” in a distressed voice, and then flushed and stared doubtfully at Lewis. Henodded.
“So you feel as I do? As Christian Gulbrandsen did. Should we feel like that with an ordinary woman?”
“Carrie Louise is not an ordinary woman. She lives by her trust, by her belief in human nature—oh dear, I amexpressing myself very badly. But I do feel that until we know who—”
“Yes, that is the crux. But you do see, Miss Marple, that there is a risk in saying nothing—”
“And so you want me to—how shall I put it?—watch over her?”
“You see, you are the only person whom I can trust,” said Lewis Serrocold simply. “Everyone here seems devoted.
But are they? Now your attachment goes back many years.”
“And also I only arrived a few days ago,” said Miss Marple pertinently.
Lewis Serrocold smiled.
“Exactly.”
“It is a very mercenary question,” said Miss Marple apologetically. “But who exactly would benefit if dear CarrieLouise were to die?”
“Money!” said Lewis bitterly. “It always boils down to money, does it?”
“Well, I really think it must in this case. Because Carrie Louise is a very sweet person with a great deal of charm,and one cannot really imagine anyone disliking her. She couldn’t, I mean, have an enemy. So then it does boil down,as you put it, to a question of money, because as you don’t need me to tell you, Mr. Serrocold, people will quite oftendo anything for money.”
“I suppose so, yes.”
He went on: “Naturally Inspector Curry has already taken up that point. Mr. Gilroy is coming down from Londontoday and can give detailed information. Gilroy, Gilroy, Jaimes and Gilroy are a very eminent firm of lawyers. ThisGilroy’s father was one of the original trustees and they drew up both Caroline’s will and the original will of EricGulbrandsen. I will put it in simple terms for you—”
“Thank you,” said Miss Marple gratefully. “So mystifying the law, I always think.”
“Eric Gulbrandsen after endowment of the College and his various fellowships and trusts and other charitablebequests, and having settled an equal sum on his daughter Mildred and on his adopted daughter Pippa (Gina’s mother),left the remainder of his vast fortune in trust, the income from it to be paid to Caroline for her lifetime.”
“And after her death?”
“After her death it was to be divided equally between Mildred and Pippa—or their children, if they themselves hadpredeceased Caroline.”
“So that, in fact, it goes to Mrs. Strete and to Gina.”
“Yes. Caroline has also quite a considerable fortune of her own—though not in the Gulbrandsen class. Half of thisshe made over to me four years ago. Of the remaining amount, she left ten thousand pounds to Juliet Bellever, and therest equally divided between Alex and Stephen Restarick, her two stepsons.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple. “That’s bad. That’s very bad.”
“You mean?”
“It means everyone in the house had a financial motive.”
“Yes. And yet, you know, I can’t believe that any of these people would do murder. I simply can’t … Mildred isher daughter — and already quite well provided for. Gina is devoted to her grandmother. She is generous andextravagant, but has no acquisitive feelings. Jolly Bellever is fanatically devoted to Caroline. The two Restaricks carefor Caroline as though she were really their mother. They have no money of their own to speak of, but quite a lot ofCaroline’s income has gone towards financing their enterprises—especially so with Alex. I simply can’t believe eitherof those two would deliberately poison her for the sake of inheriting money at her death. I just can’t believe any of it,Miss Marple.”
“There’s Gina’s husband, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” said Lewis gravely. “There is Gina’s husband.”
“You don’t really know much about him. And one can’t help seeing that he’s a very unhappy young man.”
Lewis sighed.
“He hasn’t fitted in here—no. He’s no interest in or sympathy for what we’re trying to do. But after all, why shouldhe? He’s young, crude, and he comes from a country where a man is esteemed by the success he makes of life.”
“Whilst here we are so very fond of failures,” said Miss Marple.
Lewis Serrocold looked at her sharply and suspiciously.
She flushed a little and murmured rather incoherently:
“I think sometimes, you know, one can overdo things the other way … I mean the young people with a goodheredity, and brought up wisely in a good home—and with grit and pluck and the ability to get on in life—well, theyare really, when one comes down to it—the sort of people a country needs.”
Lewis frowned and Miss Marple hurried on, getting pinker and pinker and more and more incoherent.
“Not that I don’t appreciate—I do indeed—you and Carrie Louise—a really noble work—real compassion—andone should have compassion—because after all it’s what people are that counts—good and bad luck—and much moreexpected (and rightly) of the lucky ones. But I do think sometimes one’s sense of proportion—oh, I don’t mean you,Mr. Serrocold. Really I don’t know what I mean—but the English are rather odd that way. Even in war, so muchprouder of their defeats and their retreats than of their victories. Foreigners never can understand why we’re so proudof Dunkerque. It’s the sort of thing they’d prefer not to mention themselves. But we always seem to be almostembarrassed by a victory—and treat it as though it weren’t quite nice to boast about it. And look at all our poets! ‘TheCharge of the Light Brigade.’ And the little Revenge went down in the Spanish Main. It’s really a very oddcharacteristic when you come to think of it!”
Miss Marple drew a fresh breath.
“What I really mean is that everything here must seem rather peculiar to young Walter Hudd.”
“Yes,” Lewis allowed. “I see your point. And Walter has certainly a fine war record. There’s no doubt about hisbravery.”
“Not that that helps,” said Miss Marple candidly. “Because war is one thing, and everyday life is quite another.
And actually to commit a murder, I think you do need bravery—or perhaps, more often, just conceit. Yes, conceit.”
“But I would hardly say that Walter Hudd had a sufficient motive.”
“Wouldn’t you?” said Miss Marple. “He hates it here. He wants to get away. He wants to get Gina away. And ifit’s really money he wants, it would be important for Gina to get all the money before she—er—definitely forms anattachment to someone else.”
“An attachment to someone else,” said Lewis, in an astonished voice.
Miss Marple wondered at the blindness of enthusiastic social reformers.
“That’s what I said. Both the Restaricks are in love with her, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Lewis absently.
He went on:
“Stephen’s invaluable to us—quite invaluable. The way he’s got those lads coming along—keen—interested. Theygave a splendid show last month. Scenery, costumes, everything. It just shows, as I’ve always said to Maverick, thatit’s lack of drama in their lives that leads these boys to crime. To dramatise yourself is a child’s natural instinct.
Maverick says—ah yes, Maverick—”
Lewis broke off.
“I want Maverick to see Inspector Curry about Edgar. The whole thing is so ridiculous really.”
“What do you really know about Edgar Lawson, Mr. Serrocold?”
“Everything,” said Lewis positively. “Everything, that is, that one needs to know. His background, upbringing—hisdeep-seated lack of confidence in himself—”
Miss Marple interrupted.
“Couldn’t Edgar Lawson have poisoned Mrs. Serrocold?” she asked.
“Hardly. He’s only been here a few weeks. And anyway, it’s ridiculous! Why should Edgar want to poison mywife? What could he possibly gain by doing so?”
“Nothing material, I know. But he might have—some odd reason. He is odd, you know.”
“You mean unbalanced?”
“I suppose so. No, I don’t—not quite. What I mean is, he’s all wrong.”
It was not a very lucid exposition of what she felt. Lewis Serrocold accepted the words at their face value.
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “He’s all wrong, poor lad. And he was showing such marked improvement. I can’treally understand why he had this sudden setback….”
Miss Marple leaned forward eagerly.
“Yes, that’s what I wondered. If—”
She broke off as Inspector Curry came into the room.
第十一章
第二天一早，马普尔小姐下楼吃早饭时，吉娜匆匆上前打了个招呼。
“警察又来了，”她说，“他们在书房，沃利对他们着了迷，他很喜欢警察不动声色的样子。这一切都令他感到兴奋。我可不，我讨厌这种事，太可怕了。问我为什么这么生气？
可能因为我是半个意大利人吧？”
“很有可能，至少你不介意表达自己的想法。”
说话时马普尔小姐笑了笑。
“乔利生气了，”吉娜挽着马普尔小姐的胳膊，拥着她走向餐厅，“因为警察接管了这件事，她不能像管别人一样来‘管’警察了。而亚历克斯和斯蒂芬根本不关心这件事。”吉娜严肃地往下说。两人走进餐厅时，兄弟俩都快用完早餐了。
“亲爱的吉娜，这话可说过头了啊。”亚历克斯说，“早上好，马普尔小姐。我很关心这件事。抛开我几乎不认识克里斯蒂安叔叔这一点，我是最好的怀疑对象。我希望你能认识到这一点。”
“为什么这么说？”
“因为我开车来这儿的时间不对啊。警察把所有事都核查了一遍，觉得我来这儿所花的时间太长了——也就是说，我有充足的时间停好车，绕过房子，从侧门进去打死克里斯蒂安，冲出房间后再返回车里。”
“那时你究竟在做什么？”吉娜问。
“小时候大人没告诉你不要问不该问的问题吗？事实上，半路上我像个呆子似的下了车，花了好几分钟观察被车前灯照亮的夜雾，考虑怎样在舞台上运用这种效果。我想放在新的芭蕾剧《石灰房》中。”
“你可以告诉他们啊！”
“我当然说了。但你也知道他们是些什么人。他们很有礼貌地说‘谢谢你’，然后把一切都记下来。我只知道他们什么都会怀疑，但完全不知道他们在想些什么。”
“亚历克斯，你当时的样子一定很有趣。”斯蒂芬瘦削的脸上露出残忍的笑容，“我可什么事都没有！我昨晚压根没走出过大厅。”
吉娜大声说：“他们不会以为是我们当中的某个人干的吧！”
她睁大黑眼睛，显得非常惊慌。
“亲爱的，千万别告诉我这里流浪汉干的，”亚历克斯一边吃着果酱一边说，“这种说法实在老掉牙了。”
贝莱弗小姐从门口往里看了看说：“马普尔小姐，早饭后能去一下书房吗？”
“又先叫你去。”吉娜说，她看上去有些不高兴。
“嘿，那是什么声音？”亚历克斯问。
“我什么都没听见。”斯蒂芬说。
“是开枪的声音。”
“有人在克里斯蒂安叔叔被杀的房间里开枪了。”吉娜说，“不知为什么要这么做，他们也在外面开了一枪。”
门开了，米尔德里德•斯垂特走了进来。她穿着一身有珠子装饰的黑衣服。
她小声问好，谁也没看便坐了下来，然后低声说：“吉娜，给我来些茶。还要点面包，别的都不要。”
她用手里的手帕小心地擦拭着鼻子和双眼，然后抬起头，似看非看地面对兄弟二人。
斯蒂芬和亚历克斯被她看得很不自在，说话声音压低了许多，很快便起身走了。
米尔德里德不知对谁说：“真没礼貌，连黑领结都不戴！”
马普尔小姐抱歉地说：“他们预先没想到会发生谋杀案吧。”
吉娜哼了一声，米尔德里德严厉地看了她一眼。
“沃尔特一大早跑哪儿去了？”
吉娜的脸红了。
“不知道，我没见到他。”
她像个做错了事的孩子一样局促不安地坐在椅子上。
马普尔小姐站起身，说：“我要去书房了。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德站在书房的窗户边。房里没有别人。
马普尔小姐进门以后，他转过身上前抓过她的手。
他说：“希望你不要因为这件令人震惊的事而过于难受。对于一个从未接触过这类事的人来说，与谋杀犯近在咫尺一定非常恐怖。”
出于羞怯，马普尔小姐没告诉他自己已经对谋杀案司空见惯了。她只是说，圣玛丽米德村的生活并不像外人所想的那样宁静祥和。
“村庄里也会发生一些很可怕的事。”她说，“在那儿，你有机会见识到城里人想都不敢想的事。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德听着，显得有些心不在焉。他简单地说：“我需要你的帮助。”
“当然可以，塞罗科尔德先生。”
“这件事有关我的妻子，有关卡罗琳。你和她的交情不错吧？”
“是的，不错。她和所有人的关系都很好。”
“我也这么想。但也许我弄错了。经柯里警督允许，我会告诉你一件别人都不知道的事情——或者说除我以外只有一个人知道的事。”
他简要地把前一天晚上和柯里警督的谈话说了一遍。
马普尔小姐似乎吓了一大跳。
“我无法相信，塞罗科尔德先生。我真的无法相信。”
“克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森告诉我时我也这么觉得。”
“我觉得卡莉•路易丝在这个世上没有一个敌人。”
“实在是不可思议。但确实有这么个人。你明白这意味着什么吗？投毒——慢性投毒——肯定是家庭内部的人干的，肯定是和这个家关系密切的什么人干的。”
“你能确定古尔布兰森先生没弄错吗？”
“克里斯蒂安不会弄错的。他非常细心，不会毫无根据地妄下断言。警方拿走了卡罗琳的药瓶和她吃过的一些药，发现里面都有砒霜——医生可不会把砒霜当药开。定量检测还需要一些时间，但存在砒霜是明确无误的了。”
“她的风湿病……步行困难……所有那些……”
“腿部肌肉痉挛是砒霜中毒的典型症状。你来之前，卡罗琳得过一两次严重的胃病——克里斯蒂安来之前我做梦也没想到……”
他不再说话了。马普尔小姐轻声说：“看来露丝说对了！”
“露丝怎么说？”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德的声音很惊讶。马普尔小姐脸红了。
“有些事我没告诉你。我来这儿不完全是偶然的。让我跟你解释——我说事情总是说不太清，请耐心一些。”
马普尔小姐把露丝的不安和请求说给他听。
“太离奇了，”刘易斯•塞罗科尔德说，“我完全没料到。”
“没有切实的证据，”马普尔小姐说，“不知道露丝为什么会这么想。但肯定有原因——以我的经验，她会产生这样的想法，一定有背后的理由——不过她能想到的只是‘有些事似乎不太对头’。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德阴沉着脸说：“也许她说得对。马普尔小姐，你明白我的处境了吧？该不该把这事告诉卡莉•路易丝呢？”
马普尔小姐飞快地说：“这肯定不行。”说完她红着脸，犹豫地看着刘易斯。后者点了点头。
“看来你我的想法一致了？克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森生前也这么想。我们能不能把她当做一个普通女人来看待呢？”
“卡莉•路易丝可不是什么普通女人。她靠信仰生活，靠她对人性的信仰——这么说是不是有些不太合适？但在我们弄清是谁——”
“对，这才是问题的关键所在。但你也知道，马普尔小姐，什么都不说也存在着些危险。”
“所以你是要我——这么说行吗，你是要我监视她，对吗？”
“你是我唯一信任的人。”刘易斯•塞罗科尔德挑明了，“这里的人看上去都很爱她，但事实是这样的吗？你和她的交情最久，又没有什么利害冲突，我只能相信你了。”
“我是几天前才来的。”马普尔小姐适时地说了一句。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德笑了笑。
“这样才好。”
马普尔小姐说：“这件事肯定与金钱关系密切，杀了路易丝谁会获利呢？”
“钱！”刘易斯愤愤地说，“一切又归结到了‘钱’字上。”
“我认为事情肯定和钱有关。卡莉•路易丝既可爱又很有魅力，无法想象会有人不喜欢她。我觉得她不可能有敌人。正如你所说，事情最后又归结到钱的问题上了。塞罗科尔德先生，不用说你也知道，有人为了钱什么都干。”
“你说得对，的确是这样的，没错。”他又说，“柯里警督也想到了这一点。吉尔福恩先生今天从伦敦过来，他会提供详细情况的。吉尔福恩所在的吉尔福恩-詹姆斯律师事务所非常有声望。吉尔福恩的父亲是最初的董事之一，卡罗琳的遗嘱以及埃里克•古尔布兰森的遗嘱原件都是在他们的帮助下起草的。希望这种简单的解释能让你明白。”
“谢谢你，”马普尔小姐感激地说，“我总觉得法律很神秘。”
“埃里克•古尔布兰森捐赠设立了家族学院、各种奖学金、信托公司以及各种慈善机构，给女儿米尔德里德和养女皮帕（吉娜的母亲）分别留了一份等价的遗产，剩下的钱他以信托形式留了下来，信托收入用来维持卡罗琳后半生的生活。”
“卡罗琳去世以后呢？”
“去世后财产会平分给米尔德里德和皮帕——如果这两个人先于卡罗琳去世，那就分给她们的后代。”
“也就是斯垂特夫人和吉娜，是吗？”
“是的。卡罗琳的财产也非常多——尽管不能与古尔布兰森留给她的遗产相比。四年前，她把其中一半转到我的名下，又拿出一万英镑留给朱丽叶•贝莱弗，其余的平分给她的两个继子亚历克斯和斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克。”
“老天，”马普尔小姐说，“太糟了，真是太糟了。”
“你这是什么意思？”
“也就是说，这幢房子里的人都有动机。”
“是的，但你也要知道，我不相信这些人中的任何一个想要杀她。我自然不可能……米尔德里德是她女儿，得到的财产已经不少了。吉娜很爱她外婆，她花钱大手大脚，但没有占有欲。乔利•贝莱弗忠于卡罗琳。雷斯塔里克兄弟俩关心卡罗琳就像关心自己的母亲一样。他们没什么钱，但卡罗琳拿出好多钱资助他们的事业，特别是亚历克斯。我绝不相信他们中会有一个为了继承遗产而故意毒死她。马普尔小姐，我绝对不相信。”
“你没算上吉娜的丈夫吗？”
“对，”刘易斯严肃地说，“还有吉娜的丈夫。”
“没人了解他。他只是个负气的年轻人而已。”
刘易斯叹了口气。
“他不适应这里——一点都不适应。他对我们的事业既没兴趣也不支持。话说回来，他为什么要支持呢？他年轻、不成熟，来自于那个靠个人成功来确定价值的国家。”
“而这里的人只对失败感兴趣。”马普尔小姐说。
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德困惑而机敏地看了她一眼。
她的脸又红了，然后不连贯地轻声说：“有时候我认为越是家境好的人越容易做出格的事……我是说那些继承了丰厚遗产的年轻人，他们在良好的家庭环境中长大，有精神也有能力过上富足的日子——这些人，你会觉得国家终归需要他们这样的人。”
刘易斯皱起眉头，马普尔小姐还在往下说，情绪激动使她的脸越来越红，话也越来越不连贯了。
“不是我不明白，我真的很明白，你和卡莉•路易丝做的是令人尊敬的工作……你们真的很有热情……人应当有热情……毕竟人才是最重要的——人的运气有好有坏，人们总希望自己能走运，但我有时觉得平衡也很重要——塞罗科尔德先生，我不是在说你。我也不明白自己在说什么——英国人在这方面的确很怪。在战争期间，他们更愿意讨论失败及撤退，而不愿提及胜利。外国人永远不明白我们为什么对敦刻尔克英军失败后的撤退那么自豪。他们总不愿谈及这种事。我们好像对胜利感到难为情，认为胜利没什么好夸耀的。相反，我们喜欢说起在克里米亚的惨败，描写那场失败的诗《复仇》甚至还流传到了西班牙。想想就觉得奇怪！”
马普尔小姐呼吸了一口新鲜空气。
“其实我是想说，这里的一切对年轻的沃尔特•赫德来说都很奇特。”
“是的，”刘易斯肯定地说，“我明白你的意思。沃尔特有很优秀的参战履历，他的勇敢是不容怀疑的。”
“这什么都说明不了，”马普尔小姐坦诚地说，“战争是一回事，生活是另一回事。谋杀的确需要勇气，但更多的是需要计谋。对，是计谋。”
“我认为沃尔特•赫德没有充分的动机。”
“没有吗？”马普尔小姐说，“他讨厌这里，想要离开，想带走吉娜。如果他想要钱——有一点也很重要，那便是在吉娜对别人产生更深的爱恋之前，他必须得到这笔钱。”
“对别人产生爱恋？”刘易斯诧异地问。
热情的社会改革家对此事的无知令马普尔小姐大为不解。
“是的，雷斯塔里克两兄弟都爱上了她。”
“才不会呢。”刘易斯心不在焉地说，他又继续说，“斯蒂芬对我们而言价值非常大——他的价值无可比拟。他有办法让小伙子们追随他，对戏剧产生浓厚的兴趣。他们上个月做了一次精彩的演出。布景，服装，一切都非常好。正如我同马弗里克大夫说的那样，由于生活中缺少戏剧化才导致他们犯罪，把人格戏剧化能焕发出他们的童心。马弗里克说——对了，说到马弗里克——”刘易斯突然改变了话题，“我想让马弗里克与柯里警督谈谈埃德加的事，整件事都太荒唐了。”
“塞罗科尔德先生，关于埃德加•劳森，你究竟知道些什么？”
“任何事，”刘易斯肯定地说，“应该了解的我都了解。他的背景，成长，以及由来已久的不自信——”
马普尔小姐打断了他的话。
“不会是埃德加•劳森给塞罗科尔德夫人下的毒吧？”她问。
“不太可能。不管怎么说，他才来几个星期。真是太可笑了！他干吗要毒死我太太？这么做他又能得到什么好处？”
“我想不是物质方面。也许有一些离奇的理由。毕竟他是个怪人啊。”
“你是想说他精神错乱吗？”
“不全是。我的意思是他整个人都很不正常。”
马普尔小姐并没把这句话的意思完全说明白。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德也只是从字面去理解。
“是的，”他叹了口气说，“他整个人都不太正常，可怜的孩子。但他正变得越来越好。
我也不知道情况为什么会突然恶化。”
马普尔小姐斜过身子，专心地听他讲话。
“是的。我也不明白。如果——”
这时柯里警督走进门，马普尔小姐赶紧闭上了嘴。
Chapter Twelve
Twelve
1L ewis Serrocold went away and Inspector Curry sat down and gave Miss Marple a rather peculiar smile.
“So Mr. Serrocold has been asking you to act as watchdog,” he said.
“Well, yes,” she added apologetically. “I hope you don’t mind—”
“I don’t mind. I think it’s a very good idea. Does Mr. Serrocold know just how well qualified you are for the post?”
“I don’t quite understand, Inspector.”
“I see. He thinks you’re just a very nice, elderly lady who was at school with his wife.” He shook his head at her.
“We know you’re a bit more than that, Miss Marple, aren’t you? Crime is right down your street. Mr. Serrocold onlyknows one aspect of crime—the promising beginners. Makes me a bit sick, sometimes. Daresay I’m wrong and old-fashioned. But there are plenty of good decent lads about, lads who could do with a start in life. But there, honesty hasto be its own reward—millionaires don’t leave trust funds to help the worthwhile. Well—well, don’t pay any attentionto me. I’m old-fashioned. I’ve seen boys—and girls—with everything against them, bad homes, bad luck, everydisadvantage, and they’ve had the grit to win through. That’s the kind I shall leave my packet to, if I ever have one.
But then, of course, that’s what I never shall have. Just my pension and a nice bit of garden.”
He nodded his head at Miss Marple.
“Superintendent Blacker told me about you last night. Said you’d had a lot of experience of the seamy side ofhuman nature. Well now, let’s have your point of view. Who’s the nigger in the woodpile? The G.I. husband?”
“That,” said Miss Marple, “would be very convenient for everybody.”
Inspector Curry smiled softly to himself.
“A G.I. pinched my best girl,” he said reminiscently. “Naturally, I’m prejudiced. His manner doesn’t help. Let’shave the amateur point of view. Who’s been secretly and systematically poisoning Mrs. Serrocold?”
“Well,” said Miss Marple judicially, “one is always inclined, human nature being what it is, to think of thehusband. Or if it’s the other way round, the wife. That’s the first assumption, don’t you think, in a poisoning case?”
“I agree with you every time,” said Inspector Curry.
“But really — in this case —” Miss Marple shook her head. “No, frankly — I cannot seriously consider Mr.
Serrocold. Because you see, Inspector, he really is devoted to his wife. Naturally he would make a parade of being so—but it isn’t a parade. It’s very quiet, but it’s genuine. He loves his wife, and I’m quite certain he wouldn’t poisonher.”
“To say nothing of the fact that he wouldn’t have any motive for doing so. She’s made over her money to himalready.”
“Of course,” said Miss Marple primly, “there are other reasons for a gentleman wanting his wife out of the way. Anattachment to a young woman, for instance. But I really don’t see any signs of it in this case. Mr. Serrocold does notact as though he had any romantic preoccupation. I’m really afraid,” she sounded quite regretful about it, “we shallhave to wash him out.”
“Regrettable, isn’t it?” said the Inspector. He grinned. “And anyway, he couldn’t have killed Gulbrandsen. It seemsto me that there’s no doubt that the one thing hinges on the other. Whoever is poisoning Mrs. Serrocold killedGulbrandsen to prevent him spilling the beans. What we’ve got to get at now is who had an opportunity to killGulbrandsen last night. And our prize suspect—there’s no doubt about it—is young Walter Hudd. It was he whoswitched on a reading lamp which resulted in a fuse going, thereby giving him the opportunity to leave the Hall and goto the fuse box. The fuse box is in the kitchen passage which opens off from the main corridor. It was during hisabsence from the Great Hall that the shot was heard. So that’s suspect No 1 perfectly placed for committing thecrime.”
“And suspect No 2?” asked Miss Marple.
“Suspect 2 is Alex Restarick who was alone in his car between the lodge and the house and took too long gettingthere.”
“Anybody else?” Miss Marple leaned forward eagerly—remembering to add, “It’s very kind of you to tell me allthis.”
“It’s not kindness,” said Inspector Curry. “I’ve got to have your help. You put your finger on the spot when yousaid ‘Anybody else?’ Because there I’ve got to depend on you. You were there, in the Hall last night, and you can tellme who left it….”
“Yes—yes, I ought to be able to tell you … but can I? You see—the circumstances—”
“You mean that you were all listening to the argument going on behind the door of Mr. Serrocold’s study.”
Miss Marple nodded vehemently.
“Yes, you see we were all really very frightened. Mr. Lawson looked—he really did—quite demented. Apart fromMrs. Serrocold who seemed quite unaffected, we all feared that he would do a mischief to Mr. Serrocold. He wasshouting, you know, and saying the most terrible things—we could hear them quite plainly—and what with that andwith most of the lights being out—I didn’t really notice anything else.”
“You mean that whilst that scene was going on, anybody could have slipped out of the Hall, gone along thecorridor, shot Mr. Gulbrandsen, and slipped back again?”
“I think it would have been possible….”
“Could you say definitely that anybody was in the Great Hall the whole time?”
Miss Marple considered.
“I could say that Mrs. Serrocold was—because I was watching her. She was sitting quite close to the study door,and she never moved from her seat. It surprised me, you know, that she was able to remain so calm.”
“And the others?”
“Miss Bellever went out—but I think—I am almost sure—that that was after the shot. Mrs. Strete? I really don’tknow. She was sitting behind me, you see. Gina was over by the far window. I think she remained there the wholetime but, of course, I cannot be sure. Stephen was at the piano. He stopped playing when the quarrel began to getheated—”
“We mustn’t be misled by the time you heard the shot,” said Inspector Curry. “That’s a trick that’s been donebefore now, you know. Fake up a shot so as to fix the time of a crime, and fix it wrong. If Miss Bellever had cooked upsomething of that kind (farfetched—but you never know) then she’d leave as she did, openly, after the shot was heard.
No, we can’t go by the shot. The limits are between when Christian Gulbrandsen left the Hall to the moment whenMiss Bellever found him dead, and we can only eliminate those people who were known not to have had opportunity.
That gives us Lewis Serrocold and young Edgar Lawson in the study, and Mrs. Serrocold in the Hall. It’s veryunfortunate, of course, that Gulbrandsen should be shot on the same evening that this schemozzle happened betweenSerrocold and this young Lawson.”
“Just unfortunate, you think?” murmured Miss Marple.
“Oh? What do you think?”
“It occurred to me,” murmured Miss Marple, “that it might have been contrived.”
“So that’s your idea?”
“Well, everybody seems to think it very odd that Edgar Lawson should quite suddenly have a relapse, so to speak.
He’d got this curious complex, or whatever the term is, about his unknown father. Winston Churchill and ViscountMontgomery—all quite likely in his state of mind. Just any famous man he happened to think of. But supposesomebody puts it into his head that it’s Lewis Serrocold who is really his father, that it’s Lewis Serrocold who hasbeen persecuting him—that he ought, by rights, to be the crown prince, as it were, of Stonygates. In his weak mentalstate he’ll accept the idea—work himself up into a frenzy, and sooner or later will make the kind of scene he did make.
And what a wonderful cover that will be! Everybody will have their attention fixed on the dangerous situation that isdeveloping—especially if somebody has thoughtfully supplied him with a revolver.”
“Hm, yes. Walter Hudd’s revolver.”
“Oh yes,” said Miss Marple, “I’d thought of that. But you know, Walter is uncommunicative and he’s certainlysullen and ungracious, but I don’t really think he’s stupid.”
“So you don’t think it’s Walter?”
“I think everybody would be very relieved if it was Walter. That sounds very unkind, but it’s because he is anoutsider.”
“What about his wife?” asked Inspector Curry. “Would she be relieved?”
Miss Marple did not answer. She was thinking of Gina and Stephen Restarick standing together as she had seenthem on her first day. And she thought of the way Alex Restarick’s eyes had gone straight to Gina as he had enteredthe Hall last night. What was Gina’s own attitude?
2Two hours later Inspector Curry tilted back his chair, stretched himself, and sighed.
“Well,” he said, “we’ve cleared a good deal of ground.”
Sergeant Lake agreed.
“The servants are out,” he said. “They were together all through the critical period—those that sleep here. The onesthat don’t live in had gone home.”
Curry nodded. He was suffering from mental fatigue.
He had interviewed physiotherapists, members of the teaching staff, and what he called to himself, the “two younglags” whose turn it had been to dine with the family that night. All their stories dovetailed and checked. He could writethem off. Their activities and habits were communal. There were no lonely souls among them. Which was useful forthe purposes of alibis. Curry had kept Dr. Maverick who was, as far as he could judge, the chief person in charge ofthe Institute, to the end.
“But we’ll have him in now, Lake.”
So the young doctor bustled in, neat and spruce and rather inhuman-looking behind his pince-nez.
Maverick confirmed the statements of his staff, and agreed with Curry’s findings. There had been no slackness, noloophole in the College impregnability. Christian Gulbrandsen’s death could not be laid to the account of the “youngpatients” as Curry almost called them—so hypnotized had he become by the fervent medical atmosphere.
“But patients is exactly what they are, Inspector,” said Dr. Maverick with a little smile.
It was a superior smile, and Inspector Curry would not have been human if he had not resented it just a little.
He said professionally:
“Now as regards your own movements, Dr. Maverick? Can you give me an account of them?”
“Certainly. I have jotted them down for you with the approximate times.”
Dr. Maverick had left the Great Hall at fifteen minutes after nine with Mr. Lacy and Mr. Baumgarten. They hadgone to Mr. Baumgarten’s rooms where they had all three remained discussing certain courses of treatment until MissBellever had come hurrying in and asked Dr. Maverick to go to the Great Hall. That was at approximately half pastnine. He had gone at once to the Hall and had found Edgar Lawson in a state of collapse.
Inspector Curry stirred a little.
“Just a minute, Dr. Maverick. Is this young man, in your opinion, definitely a mental case?”
Dr. Maverick smiled the superior smile again.
“We are all mental cases, Inspector Curry.”
Tomfool answer, thought the Inspector. He knew quite well he wasn’t a mental case, whatever Dr. Maverick mightbe!
“Is he responsible for his actions? He knows what he is doing, I suppose?”
“Perfectly.”
“Then when he fired that revolver at Mr. Serrocold it was definitely attempted murder.”
“No, no, Inspector Curry. Nothing of that kind.”
“Come now, Dr. Maverick. I’ve seen the two bullet holes in the wall. They must have gone dangerously near toMr. Serrocold’s head.”
“Perhaps. But Lawson had no intention of killing Mr. Serrocold or even of wounding him. He is very fond of Mr.
Serrocold.”
“It seems a curious way of showing it.”
Dr. Maverick smiled again. Inspector Curry found that smile very trying.
“Everything one does is intentional. Every time you, Inspector, forget a name or a face it is because, unconsciously,you wish to forget it.”
Inspector Curry looked unbelieving.
“Every time you make a slip of the tongue, that slip has a meaning. Edgar Lawson was standing a few feet awayfrom Mr. Serrocold. He could easily have shot him dead. Instead, he missed him. Why did he miss him? Because hewanted to miss him. It is as simple as that. Mr. Serrocold was never in any danger—and Mr. Serrocold himself wasquite aware of that fact. He understood Edgar’s gesture for exactly what it was—a gesture of defiance and resentmentagainst a universe that has denied him the simple necessities of a child’s life—security and affection.”
“I think I’d like to see this young man.”
“Certainly if you wish. His outburst last night has had a cathartic effect. There is a great improvement today. Mr.
Serrocold will be very pleased.”
Inspector Curry stared hard at him, but Dr. Maverick was serious as always.
Curry sighed.
“Do you have any arsenic?” he asked.
“Arsenic?” The question took Dr. Maverick by surprise. It was clearly unexpected. “What a very curious question.
Why arsenic?”
“Just answer the question, please.”
“No, I have no arsenic of any kind in my possession.”
“But you have some drugs?”
“Oh certainly. Sedatives. Morphia—the barbiturates. The usual things.”
“Do you attend Mrs. Serrocold?”
“No. Dr. Gunter of Market Kimble is the family physician. I hold a medical degree, of course, but I practice purelyas a psychiatrist.”
“I see. Well, thank you very much, Dr. Maverick.”
As Dr. Maverick went out, Inspector Curry murmured to Lake that psychiatrists gave him a pain in the neck.
“We’ll get on to the family now,” he said. “I’ll see young Walter Hudd first.”
Walter Hudd’s attitude was cautious. He seemed to be studying the police officer with a slightly wary expression.
But he was quite cooperative.
There was a good deal of defective wiring in Stonygates—the whole electric system was very old-fashioned. Theywouldn’t stand for a system like that in the States.
“It was installed, I believe, by the late Mr. Gulbrandsen when electric light was a novelty,” said Inspector Currywith a faint smile.
“I’ll say that’s so! Sweet old feudal English and never been brought up to date.”
The fuse which controlled most of the lights in the Great Hall had gone, and he had gone out to the fuse box to seeabout it. In due course he got it repaired and came back.
“How long were you away?”
“Why, that I couldn’t say for sure. The fuse box is in an awkward place. I had to get steps and a candle. I wasmaybe ten minutes—perhaps a quarter of an hour.”
“Did you hear a shot?”
“Why no, I didn’t hear anything like that. There are double doors through to the kitchen quarters, and one of themis lined with a kind of felt.”
“I see. And when you came back into the Hall, what did you see?”
“They were all crowded round the door into Mr. Serrocold’s study. Mrs. Strete said that Mr. Serrocold had beenshot—but actually that wasn’t so. Mr. Serrocold was quite all right. The boob had missed him.”
“You recognised the revolver?”
“Sure I recognised it! It was mine.”
“When did you see it last?”
“Two or three days ago.”
“Where did you keep it?”
“In the drawer in my room.”
“Who knew that you kept it there?”
“I wouldn’t know who knows what in this house.”
“What do you mean by that, Mr. Hudd?”
“Aw, they’re all nuts!”
“When you came into the Hall, was everybody else there?”
“What d’you mean by everybody?”
“The same people who were there when you went to repair the fuse.”
“Gina was there … and the old lady with white hair—and Miss Bellever … I didn’t notice particularly—but Ishould say so.”
“Mr. Gulbrandsen arrived quite unexpectedly the day before yesterday, did he not?”
“I guess so. It wasn’t his usual routine, I understand.”
“Did anyone seem upset by his arrival?”
Walter Hudd took a moment or two before he answered, “Why no, I wouldn’t say so.”
Once more there was a touch of caution in his manner.
“Have you any idea why he came?”
“Their precious Gulbrandsen Trust I suppose. The whole setup here is crazy.”
“You have these ‘setups’ as you call it, in the States.”
“It’s one thing to endow a scheme, and another to give it the personal touch as they do here. I had enough ofpsychiatrists in the army. This place is stiff with them. Teaching young thugs to make raffia baskets and carve piperacks. Kids’ games! It’s sissy!”
Inspector Curry did not comment on this criticism. Possibly he agreed with it.
He said, eyeing Walter carefully:
“So you have no idea who could have killed Mr Gulbrandsen?”
“One of the bright boys from the College practising his technique, I’d say.”
“No, Mr. Hudd, that’s out. The College, in spite of its carefully produced atmosphere of freedom, is none the less aplace of detention and is run on those lines. Nobody can run in and out of it after dark and commit murders.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them! Well—if you want to fix it nearer home, I’d say your best bet was Alex Restarick.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He had the opportunity. He drove up through the grounds alone in his car.”
“And why should he kill Christian Gulbrandsen?”
Walter shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m a stranger. I don’t know the family setups. Maybe the old boy had heard something about Alex and was goingto spill the beans to the Serrocolds.”
“With what result?”
“They might cut off the dough. He can use dough—uses a good deal of it by all accounts.”
“You mean—in theatrical enterprises?”
“That’s what he calls it?”
“Do you suggest it was otherwise?”
Again Walter Hudd shrugged his shoulders.
“I wouldn’t know,” he said.
第十二章
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德离开后，柯里警督坐下来，冲马普尔小姐诡异地笑了笑。
“看来塞罗科尔德先生请你做他的密探了。”他说。
“是的。”马普尔小姐抱歉地补充道，“希望你别介意。”
“我才不会介意呢。我想这是个好主意。塞罗科尔德先生也许还没意识到请你做密探是再合适不过的了。”
“我不太懂你的话，警督大人。”
“他只不过把你当成和他太太有过同学经历的慈祥老太太，”他冲着她摇了摇头，“马普尔小姐，我们对你的了解可不止这些，你说呢？虽然是个小地方，但你们那里的犯罪可真不少。塞罗科尔德先生只知道改造少年犯，他觉得这些人还有前途，有时这观点令我十分厌倦。也许我说得不对，也许我有些过时了，但顺利走在生活之路上的年轻人也不少，正直也需要回报——这些百万富翁应该用信托基金帮助那些值得帮助的人。请别介意，我落伍了。我见过一些年轻人，一切都不顺利，家庭生活不幸，运气不好，条件不好，但还是靠一股韧劲走了过来。如果我有钱，我会帮这样的人。但话说回来，我永远也不会有那么多钱。我只有养老金和一个还算不错的花园。”
他冲马普尔小姐点了点头。
“布莱克尔警长昨晚跟我说了你的情况。他说你熟知人性中丑恶的一面。我想听听你的看法，谁是嫌疑犯？是那个美国大兵吗？”
“让每个人满意的答案就只有他了。”马普尔小姐说。
柯里警督兀自笑了笑。
“一个美国大兵把我最喜欢的女孩骗走了，”他缅怀起往事来，“我自然对他们有偏见。
他的举止再无可挑剔，也打消不了我对他的怀疑。让我们听听你作为业余侦探的观点。你认为是谁一直偷偷摸摸地给塞罗科尔德夫人下毒啊？”
马普尔小姐慎重地说：“一般来说，人们很容易认为是丈夫干的。如果情况相反，那就是妻子干的。投毒案基本不都是遵循这个原则吗？”
“你说到我心里去了。”柯里警督说。
马普尔小姐摇了摇头：“但在眼下的这件事里，这个规则不适用。坦率地说，我不会怀疑塞罗科尔德先生，因为你想想，警督，他真心爱妻子。他可以为此大加炫耀，但他没有。这种爱平和而真诚。他深爱妻子，我敢肯定，他不会下毒。”
“他也没有这么做的动机，他夫人早就把钱转给他了。”
“丈夫认为妻子碍事自然还有别的原因，”马普尔小姐严肃地说，“比如喜欢上了年轻的女人。但这个案子中没有任何这方面的迹象，塞罗科尔德先生不像移情别恋了。我真这么觉得。”她似乎有些遗憾地说，“我们可以先把他排除在外。”
“很遗憾，对吗？”柯里问。他笑了笑，接着说：“不管怎么说，他不可能杀古尔布兰森。事情肯定是一环套一环的。杀死古尔布兰森的肯定和给塞罗科尔德夫人下毒是同一个人，他害怕古尔布兰森揭他的底。我们现在必须得知道昨晚谁有机会下手杀古尔布兰森。
最值得怀疑的无疑是沃尔特•赫德。他打开台灯导致保险丝烧坏，制造走出大厅去查看保险丝箱的机会。保险丝箱就在厨房边的过道里，与主走廊相通。大家听到枪声的时候只有他不在大厅。因此他是一号疑凶。”
“二号疑凶是谁？”马普尔小姐问。
“是亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克，当时他独自在赶往这幢房子的途中，用的时间又意外地长。”
“还有别的怀疑对象吗？”马普尔小姐探出身子，急切地说，“你能告诉我这些真是太好了。”
“当然得告诉你了，”柯里警督说，“我需要你的帮助。你说‘是否还有别的什么人’，这句话正好切中了问题的要害。因此我觉得这个问题完全可以依赖你。昨天晚上你就在大厅，能告诉我谁出去过——”
“是的，没错，我本该告诉你的……但这样真的行吗？你要明白……当时的情形……”
“你想说大家的注意力都集中在塞罗科尔德先生书房内的争执上，是吗？”
马普尔小姐用力地点了点头。
“是的，当时我们真的都吓坏了。劳森先生看上去很疯狂。除了塞罗科尔德夫人无动于衷之外，其他人都担心他会伤害塞罗科尔德先生。他大喊大叫，说着最难听的话——我们听得很清楚，屋里的大多数灯都灭了，其他我什么都没注意到。”
“你是说骚乱时谁都可能溜出大厅，沿着走廊杀死古尔布兰森先生然后再溜回来，是吗？”
“我想有这个可能……”
“你知道当时谁一直在大厅里吗？”
马普尔小姐想了想。
“我只知道塞罗科尔德夫人没动过——因为我一直看着她。她离书房的门很近，她的镇静让我十分惊讶。”
“其他人呢？”
“贝莱弗小姐出去了，不过我想——几乎可以肯定是枪响之后出去的。斯垂特夫人我就不清楚了，她坐在我背后。吉娜坐在远处的窗边。我觉得她一直在那里，当然，我不是很肯定。斯蒂芬坐在钢琴边，争吵加剧时他停止了演奏……”
“我们不能被听见枪响的时间所误导，”柯里警督说，“以前也有人玩过这样的把戏。虚开一枪，捏造犯罪时间。如果贝莱弗小姐如此设计（有些牵强，但谁也说不准），那她就可以在枪响后再离开。我们不能只注意枪声，必须把范围定在克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森离开大厅，到贝莱弗小姐发现他死之间，只能排除在这期间没机会下手的人。似乎只有书房里的刘易斯•塞罗科尔德和埃德加•劳森，以及大厅里的塞罗科尔德夫人。真糟糕，古尔布兰森被害与塞罗科尔德和劳森发生冲突恰巧在同一个晚上。”
“你觉得这只是糟糕吗？”马普尔小姐轻声问。
“你怎么认为？”
马普尔小姐低声说：“我觉得是有人故意这样安排的。”
“此话怎讲？”
“这么说吧，人人都觉得劳森突然犯病是件十分奇怪的事。他得了一种奇怪的综合征，痴迷于找寻未知的父亲。温斯顿•丘吉尔，蒙哥马利勋爵，只要是有名的人都被他认作父亲。如果有人告诉他刘易斯•塞罗科尔德才是他真正的父亲，并且迫害了他，从权利上讲，他才是石门山庄的主人——基于脆弱的思维方式，他接受了这个想法，变得十分狂躁。我看他迟早还会像昨晚那样大闹一场。这是个多妙的幌子！人人都在注意事态的发展——有人还故意给了他一把左轮手枪呢！”
“对。那把左轮手枪是沃尔特•赫德的。”
“是的，”马普尔小姐说，“我想过这点。可尽管沃尔特不善于沟通，性格阴沉不讨喜，但我觉得他还没那么傻。”
“这么说……你认为不是沃尔特干的？”
“如果是的话，大家或许会松一口气。这么说可能不太客气，但这只因为他是个外来者。”
“他妻子会怎样？”柯里警督问，“她也会松一口气吗？”
马普尔小姐没有回答。她正在想初来乍到时看见吉娜和斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克站在一起时的情景。她又想到了亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克昨晚一进大厅就目光直逼吉娜的样子。吉娜自己又是怎么想的呢？
两小时之后，柯里警督靠在椅子上伸了个懒腰，叹了口气。他说：“我们厘清了一些事实。”
莱克警员点头表示同意。
“用人都不在场。”他说，“住在这里的用人那时恰巧都待在一起，不在这儿住的都回家了。”
柯里点点头，他的脑子里一团糟。
他拜访了治疗师、教师，以及那天正巧轮到和一家人共进晚餐的三个“年轻小子”——他们的话互相吻合，而且都得到了核实。这些人可以排除掉，他们集体行动，没人独来独往，都有充分的不在场证明。依据柯里的判断，只有学院负责人马弗里克大夫暂时还没有摆脱嫌疑。
“莱克，现在就让他过来吧。”
年轻医生健步走了进来，他穿着整洁，戴一副低架眼镜，表情漠然，不动声色。
马弗里克证实了他同事的证词，对柯里的发现也大加赞同。学院的管理极其严格，不会有什么漏洞。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的死和“年轻病员”无关，柯里被这里的医疗气氛所感染，差点也用起了这个词。
“警督，他们不过是些病人而已。”马弗里克大夫笑着说。
这是种盛气凌人的笑，作为一个普通人，柯里警督对这种笑非常反感。
他拿出警官的语气，说：“马弗里克大夫，能描述一下你当晚的活动吗？”
“当然可以。我照大致的时间粗略地记录了一下。”
马弗里克大夫九点一刻和莱西先生、鲍姆加登大夫离开大厅去了鲍姆加登先生的房间，他们一直在那儿讨论治疗课程，直到贝莱弗小姐匆匆赶来，让马弗里克大夫去大厅才分开。那时大约是九点半。他马上去大厅，发现埃德加•劳森正处于精神崩溃边缘。
柯里警督略微有些惊讶。
“马弗里克大夫，在你看来，那个年轻人的精神肯定有问题，对吗？”
马弗里克大夫高傲地笑了笑。
“柯里警督，每个人的精神都有问题，你我也不例外。”
无稽之谈，警督心想。不管马弗里克大夫觉得自己是什么人，柯里很明白，自己绝不是什么精神病患者。
“他能对自己的行为负责吗？他知道自己在干什么吗？”
“当然知道。”
“用枪对准塞罗科尔德先生就是蓄意谋杀了。”
“不，柯里警督。不是那样的。”
“马弗里克大夫，墙上的两个弹孔我都看见了，子弹肯定是擦着塞罗科尔德先生的头过去的。”
“也许吧。但劳森无意杀害或伤害塞罗科尔德先生。他非常喜欢塞罗科尔德先生。”
“这样表达喜爱未免太离奇了吧？”
马弗里克大夫又笑了。柯里警督发现他这回笑得十分勉强。
“警督，每个人做事都是有企图的。忘掉哪个名字或哪张面孔是因为你想忘掉它，只是你没意识到这一点。”
柯里警督对此表示怀疑。
“你的每次口误都有其含义。埃德加•劳森当时离塞罗科尔德先生只有几英尺远，他本来可以轻而易举地杀了他，却没有打中。为什么没打中呢？因为他有意不想打中，就这么简单。塞罗科尔德先生根本没有危险——他自己也很清楚这一点。他十分理解埃德加这番举动的含义——对世界的蔑视与憎恶。劳森儿时就被剥夺了生存最起码的条件——安全感与爱。”
“我得见见这个年轻人。”
“当然可以。昨晚的发作起到了宣泄的作用，今天他的情况好多了。塞罗科尔德先生知道后一定会很高兴。”
柯里警督瞪着他，但马弗里克大夫还像先前那样严肃。
柯里叹了口气。
“你有砒霜吗？”他问。
“怎么会想到砒霜？”马弗里克大夫对这个问题感到十分意外，他明显被打了个措手不及，“这个问题太奇怪了。这案子和砒霜有关吗？”
“你只管回答就好。”
“没有，我没有任何种类的砒霜。”
“但你有其他药吧？”
“当然了。镇静剂、巴比妥类药物和吗啡。这些药都很普遍。”
“你为塞罗科尔德夫人看病吗？”
“不。金布尔市场的冈特大夫是这里的家庭医生。我也有医学学位，但我只看精神病专科。”
“明白了。谢谢你，马弗里克大夫。”
马弗里克大夫出去时，柯里警督对莱克小声说他非常讨厌精神科医生。
“去见见家里的其他人吧，”警督说，“我想先见年轻的沃尔特•赫德。”
沃尔特•赫德的态度很小心。他警觉地打量着两位警官，但态度十分配合。
“石门山庄的电线有许多破损处，整个供电系统都老化了。美国早就不用这样的系统了。”
“古尔布兰森先生肯定在电灯还是件新奇事物时就安装了这套系统。”柯里警督微笑着对沃尔特说。
“我也这么想！古老而封建的英国人，永远赶不上时代。”
沃尔特接着回忆昨晚的情况。控制客厅里大多数电灯的保险丝烧断了，他去保险丝箱检查，很快便修好了保险丝，又回到大厅里。
“你离开了多久？”
“我说不准。保险丝箱所在的方位很不便，必须带着蜡烛走台阶，大约用了十分钟，也许十五分钟吧。”
“听见枪声了吗？”
“没听见，也没听见类似枪声的任何声音。有两扇门通往厨房，其中一扇还包了层毡子。”
“回到大厅后你看见什么没有？”
“他们都拥在塞罗科尔德先生的书房门口，斯垂特夫人说有人用枪打死了塞罗科尔德先生——但事实不是那样的。他好好的，子弹没打中他。”
“你认出了那把左轮手枪，是吗？”
“当然认得出！那是我的枪。”
“你最后一次看到那把枪是在什么时候？”
“两三天以前。”
“你把它放在哪儿？”
“房间的抽屉里。”
“都有谁知道你把枪放在那儿？”
“我不知道他们都知道些什么事。”
“赫德先生，你这是什么意思？”
“他们全都是些疯子！”
“你走回大厅时所有人都在那儿吗？”
“你说的所有人是什么意思？”
“是指你离开大厅出去修保险丝时聚集在大厅里的人。”
“吉娜还在……白发老太太还在，我没特别留意贝莱弗小姐——但所有人应该都在。”
“古尔布兰森先生是前天突然到访的，对吗？”
“是的，这不合常理。”
“有人因为他来这里而生气吗？”
沃尔特•赫德思考了片刻。
“没有。我认为没有。”
他又一次谨慎起来。
“知道他为什么来这儿吗？”
“是因为他们宝贵的古尔布兰森信托公司吧。这里的机构很疯狂。”
“美国也有这种所谓的‘机构’吧？”
“进行资助是一回事，与少年犯实地接触是另一回事。当兵时我就受够了部队里的精神病医生。这个地方却变本加厉，教这些小流氓编筐雕物。小孩子的把戏！娘娘腔！”
柯里警督没发表任何看法，兴许他也同意这一点。
他看着沃尔特，小心翼翼地说：“这么说，你并不知道是谁杀了古尔布兰森先生，对吗？”
“依我看，是学院里哪个聪明的孩子在一试身手。”
“赫德先生，这不可能。尽管学院精心营造出一种自由的气氛，但它仍然接近于拘留所，有自己的一套运作模式。天黑以后没人能出入自由地去杀人。”
“我觉得不该排除他们作案的可能性！如果要说家里人的话，我认为亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克最有可能。”
“为什么这么说？”
“他有机会。当时他一个人开车在路上。”
“他为什么要杀克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森？”
沃尔特耸了耸肩。
“我是外人，不了解这个家族。也许老头听说了有关亚历克斯的事，要向塞罗科尔德家的人泄密吧。”
“会有什么后果呢？”
“他们会切断亚历克斯的财路。他本来可以用这笔钱做许多事。”
“你是指他的戏剧事业吗？”
“他是这么说的。”
“他的钱还有别的用处吗？”
沃尔特•赫德又耸了耸肩。“我不知道。”他回答说。
Chapter Thirteen
Thirteen
1A lex Restarick was voluble. He also gestured with his hands.
“I know, I know! I’m the ideal suspect. I drive down here alone and on the way to the house, I get a creative fit. Ican’t expect you to understand. How should you?”
“I might,” Curry put in drily, but Alex Restarick swept on.
“It’s just one of those things! They come upon you there’s no knowing when or how. An effect—an idea—andeverything else goes to the winds. I’m producing Limehouse Nights next month. Suddenly—last night—the setup waswonderful …the perfect lighting. Fog—and the headlights cutting through the fog and being thrown back—andreflecting dimly a tall pile of buildings. Everything helped! The shots—the running footsteps—and the chug-chuggingof the electric power engine—could have been a launch on the Thames. And I thought—that’s it—but what am I goingto use to get just these effects?—and—”
Inspector Curry broke in.
“You heard shots? Where?”
“Out of the fog, Inspector.” Alex waved his hands in the air—plump, well-kept hands. “Out of the fog. That wasthe wonderful part about it.”
“It didn’t occur to you that anything was wrong?”
“Wrong? Why should it?”
“Are shots such a usual occurrence?”
“Ah, I knew you wouldn’t understand! The shots fitted into the scene I was creating. I wanted shots. Danger—opium—crazy business. What did I care what they were really? Backfires from a lorry on the road? A poacher afterrabbits?”
“They snare rabbits mostly round here.”
Alex swept on:
“A child letting off fireworks? I didn’t even think about them as—shots. I was in Limehouse—or rather at the backof the stalls—looking at Limehouse.”
“How many shots?”
“I don’t know,” said Alex petulantly. “Two or three. Two close together, I do remember that.”
Inspector Curry nodded.
“And the sound of running footsteps, I think you said? Where were they?”
“They came to me out of the fog. Somewhere near the house.”
Inspector Curry said gently:
“That would suggest that the murderer of Christian Gulbrandsen came from outside.”
“Of course. Why not? You don’t really suggest, do you, that he came from inside the house?”
Still very gently, Inspector Curry said:
“We have to think of everything.”
“I suppose so,” said Alex Restarick generously. “What a soul-destroying job yours must be, Inspector! The details,the times and places, the pettifogging pettiness of it. And in the end—what good is it all? Does it bring the wretchedChristian Gulbrandsen back to life?”
“There’s quite a satisfaction in getting your man, Mr. Restarick.”
“The Wild Western touch!”
“Did you know Mr. Gulbrandsen well?”
“Not well enough to murder him, Inspector. I had met him, off and on, since I lived here as a boy. He made briefappearances from time to time. One of our captains of industry. The type does not interest me. He has quite acollection, I believe, of Thorwaldsen’s statuary—” Alex shuddered. “That speaks for itself, does it not? My God, theserich men!”
Inspector Curry eyed him meditatively. Then he said, “Do you take any interest in poisons, Mr. Restarick?”
“In poisons? My dear man, he was surely not poisoned first and shot afterwards. That would be too madly detectivestory.”
“He was not poisoned. But you haven’t answered my question.”
“Poison has a certain appeal … It has not the crudeness of the revolver bullet or the blunt weapon. I have no specialknowledge of the subject, if that is what you mean.”
“Have you ever had arsenic in your possession?”
“In sandwiches—after the show? The idea has its allurements. You don’t know Rose Glidon? These actresses whothink they have a name! No, I have never thought of arsenic. One extracts it from weed killer or flypapers, I believe.”
“How often are you down here, Mr. Restarick?”
“It varies, Inspector. Sometimes not for several weeks. But I try to get down for weekends whenever I can. Ialways regard Stonygates as my true home.”
“Mrs. Serrocold has encouraged you to do so?”
“What I owe Mrs. Serrocold can never be repaid. Sympathy, understanding, affection—”
“And quite a lot of solid cash as well, I believe?”
Alex looked faintly disgusted.
“She treats me as a son, and she has belief in my work.”
“Has she ever spoken to you about her will?”
“Certainly. But may I ask what is the point of all these questions, Inspector? There is nothing wrong with Mrs.
Serrocold.”
“There had better not be,” said Inspector Curry grimly.
“Now what can you possibly mean by that?”
“If you don’t know, so much the better,” said Inspector Curry. “And if you do—I’m warning you.”
When Alex had gone Sergeant Lake said:
“Pretty bogus, would you say?”
Curry shook his head.
“Difficult to say. He may have genuine creative talent. He may just like living soft and talking big. One doesn’tknow. Heard running footsteps, did he? I’d be prepared to bet he made that up.”
“For any particular reason?”
“Definitely for a particular reason. We haven’t come to it yet, but we will.”
“After all, sir, one of those smart lads may have got out of the College buildings unbeknownst. Probably a few catburglars amongst them, and if so—”
“That’s what we’re meant to think. Very convenient. But if that’s so, Lake, I’ll eat my new soft hat.”
2“I was at the piano,” said Stephen Restarick. “I’d been strumming softly when the row blew up. Between Lewis andEdgar.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Well—to tell the truth I didn’t really take it seriously. The poor beggar has these fits of venom. He’s not reallyloopy, you know. All this nonsense is a kind of blowing off steam. The truth is, we all get under his skin—particularlyGina, of course.”
“Gina? You mean Mrs. Hudd? Why does she get under his skin?”
“Because she’s a woman—and a beautiful woman, and because she thinks he’s funny! She’s half Italian, youknow, and the Italians have that unconscious vein of cruelty. They’ve no compassion for anyone who’s old or ugly, orpeculiar in any way. They point with their fingers and jeer. That’s what Gina did, metaphorically speaking. She’d nouse for young Edgar. He was ridiculous, pompous, and, at bottom, fundamentally unsure of himself. He wanted toimpress, and he only succeeded in looking silly. It wouldn’t mean anything to her that the poor fellow suffered a lot.”
“Are you suggesting that Edgar Lawson is in love with Mrs. Hudd?” asked Inspector Curry.
Stephen replied cheerfully:
“Oh yes. As a matter of fact we all are, more or less! She likes us that way.”
“Does her husband like it?”
“He takes a dim view. He suffers, too, poor fellow. The thing can’t last, you know. Their marriage, I mean. It willbreak up before long. It was just one of these war affairs.”
“This is all very interesting,” said the Inspector. “But we’re getting away from our subject, which is the murder ofChristian Gulbrandsen.”
“Quite,” said Stephen. “But I can’t tell you anything about it. I sat at the piano, and I didn’t leave the piano untildear Jolly came in with some rusty old keys and tried to fit one to the lock of the study door.”
“You stayed at the piano. Did you continue to play the piano?”
“A gentle obbligato to the life and death struggle in Lewis’ study? No, I stopped playing when the tempo rose. Notthat I had any doubts as to the outcome. Lewis has what I can only describe as a dynamic eye. He could easily breakup Edgar just by looking at him.”
“Yet Edgar Lawson fired two shots at him.”
Stephen shook his head gently.
“Just putting on an act, that was. Enjoying himself. My dear mother used to do it. She died or ran away withsomeone when I was four, but I remember her blazing off with a pistol if anything upset her. She did it at a nightclubonce. Made a pattern on the wall. She was an excellent shot. Quite a bit of trouble she caused. She was a Russiandancer, you know.”
“Indeed. Can you tell me, Mr. Restarick, who left the Hall yesterday evening whilst you were there—during therelevant time?”
“Wally—to fix the lights. Juliet Bellever to find a key to fit the study door. Nobody else, as far as I know.”
“Would you have noticed if somebody did?”
Stephen considered.
“Probably not. That is, if they just tiptoed out and back again. It was so dark in the Hall—and there was the fight towhich we were all listening avidly.”
“Is there anyone you are sure was there the whole time?”
“Mrs. Serrocold—yes, and Gina. I’d swear to them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Restarick.”
Stephen went towards the door. Then he hesitated and came back.
“What’s all this,” he said, “about arsenic?”
“Who mentioned arsenic to you?”
“My brother.”
“Ah—yes.”
Stephen said:
“Has somebody been giving Mrs. Serrocold arsenic?”
“Why should you mention Mrs. Serrocold?”
“I’ve read of the symptoms of arsenic poisoning. Peripheral neuritis, isn’t it? It would square more or less withwhat she’s been suffering from lately. And then Lewis snatching away her tonic last night. Is that what’s been goingon here?”
“The matter is under investigation,” said Inspector Curry in his most official manner.
“Does she know about it herself?”
“Mr. Serrocold was particularly anxious that she should not be—alarmed.”
“Alarmed isn’t the right word, Inspector. Mrs. Serrocold is never alarmed … Is that what lies behind ChristianGulbrandsen’s death? Did he find out she was being poisoned—but how could he find out? Anyway, the whole thingseems most improbable. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It surprises you very much, does it, Mr. Restarick?”
“Yes, indeed. When Alex spoke to me, I could hardly believe it.”
“Who, in your opinion, would be likely to administer arsenic to Mrs. Serrocold?”
For a moment, a grin appeared upon Stephen Restarick’s handsome face.
“Not the usual person. You can wash out the husband. Lewis Serrocold’s got nothing to gain. And also he worshipsthat woman. He can’t bear her to have an ache in her little finger.”
“Who then? Have you any idea?”
“Oh yes. I’d say it was a certainty.”
“Explain please.”
Stephen shook his head.
“It’s a certainty psychologically speaking. Not in any other way. No evidence of any kind. And you probablywouldn’t agree.”
Stephen Restarick went out nonchalantly, and Inspector Curry drew cats on the sheet of paper in front of him.
He was thinking three things. A, that Stephen Restarick thought a good deal of himself, B, that Stephen Restarickand his brother presented a united front; and C, that Stephen Restarick was a handsome man where Walter Hudd was aplain one.
He wondered about two other things—what Stephen meant by “psychologically speaking” and whether Stephencould possibly have seen Gina from his seat at the piano. He rather thought not.
3Into the Gothic gloom of the library, Gina brought an exotic glow. Even Inspector Curry blinked a little at the radiantyoung woman who sat down, leaned forward over the table and said expectantly, “Well?”
Inspector Curry, observing her scarlet shirt and dark green slacks said drily:
“I see you’re not wearing mourning, Mrs. Hudd?”
“I haven’t got any,” said Gina. “I know everyone is supposed to have a little black number and wear it with pearls.
But I don’t. I hate black. I think it’s hideous, and only receptionists and housekeepers and people like that ought towear it. Anyway Christian Gulbrandsen wasn’t really a relation. He’s my grandmother’s stepson.”
“And I suppose you didn’t know him very well?”
Gina shook her head.
“He came here three or four times when I was a child, but then in the war I went to America, and I only came backhere to live about six months ago.”
“You have definitely come back here to live? You’re not just on a visit?”
“I haven’t really thought,” said Gina.
“You were in the Great Hall last night, when Mr. Gulbrandsen went to his room?”
“Yes. He said good night and went away. Grandam asked if he had everything he wanted and he said yes—thatJolly had fixed him up fine. Not those words, but that kind of thing. He said he had letters to write.”
“And then?”
Gina described the scene between Lewis and Edgar Lawson. It was the same story as Inspector Curry had by nowheard many times, but it took an added colour, a new gusto, under Gina’s handling. It became drama.
“It was Wally’s revolver,” she said. “Fancy Edgar’s having the guts to go and pinch it out of his room. I’d neverhave believed he’d have the guts.”
“Were you alarmed when they went into the study and Edgar Lawson locked the door?”
“Oh no,” said Gina, opening her enormous brown eyes very wide. “I loved it. It was so ham, you know, and somadly theatrical. Everything Edgar does is always ridiculous. One can’t take him seriously for a moment.”
“He did fire the revolver, though?”
“Yes. We all thought then that he’d shot Lewis after all.”
“And did you enjoy that?” Inspector Curry could not refrain from asking.
“Oh no, I was terrified, then. Everyone was, except Grandam. She never turned a hair.”
“That seems rather remarkable.”
“Not really. She’s that kind of person. Not quite in this world. She’s the sort of person who never believes anythingbad can happen. She’s sweet.”
“During all this scene, who was in the Hall?”
“Oh, we were all there. Except Uncle Christian, of course.”
“Not all, Mrs. Hudd. People went in and out.”
“Did they?” asked Gina vaguely.
“Your husband, for instance, went out to fix the lights.”
“Yes. Wally’s great at fixing things.”
“During his absence, a shot was heard, I understand. A shot that you all thought came from the park?”
“I don’t remember that … Oh yes, it was just after the lights had come on again and Wally had come back.”
“Did anyone else leave the Hall?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”
“Where were you sitting, Mrs. Hudd?”
“Over by the window.”
“Near the door to the library?”
“Yes.”
“Did you yourself leave the Hall at all?”
“Leave? With all the excitement? Of course not.”
Gina sounded scandalised by the idea.
“Where were the others sitting?”
“Mostly round the fireplace, I think. Aunt Mildred was knitting and so was Aunt Jane—Miss Marple, I mean—Grandam was just sitting.”
“And Mr. Stephen Restarick?”
“Stephen? He was playing the piano to begin with. I don’t know where he went later.”
“And Miss Bellever?”
“Fussing about, as usual. She practically never sits down. She was looking for keys or something.”
She said suddenly:
“What’s all this about Grandam’s tonic? Did the chemist make a mistake in making it up or something?”
“Why should you think that?”
“Because the bottle’s disappeared and Jolly’s been fussing round madly looking for it, in no end of a stew. Alextold her the police had taken it away. Did you?”
Instead of replying to the question, Inspector Curry said:
“Miss Bellever was upset, you say?”
“Oh! Jolly always fusses,” said Gina carelessly. “She likes fussing. Sometimes I wonder how Grandam can standit.”
“Just one last question, Mrs. Hudd. You’ve no ideas yourself as to who killed Christian Gulbrandsen and why?”
“One of the queers did it, I should think. The thug ones are really quite sensible. I mean they only cosh people so asto rob a till or get money or jewelry—not just for fun. But one of the queers—you know, what they call mentallymaladjusted—might do it for fun, don’t you think? Because I can’t see what other reason there could be for killingUncle Christian except fun, do you? At least I don’t mean fun, exactly—but—”
“You can’t think of a motive?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean,” said Gina gratefully. “He wasn’t robbed or anything, was he?”
“But you know, Mrs. Hudd, the College buildings were locked and barred. Nobody could get out from therewithout a pass.”
“Don’t you believe it,” Gina laughed merrily. “Those boys could get out from anywhere! They’ve taught me a lotof tricks.”
“She’s a lively one,” said Lake when Gina had departed. “First time I’ve seen her close up. Lovely figure, hasn’tshe. Sort of a foreign figure, if you know what I mean.”
Inspector Curry threw him a cold glance. Sergeant Lake said hastily that she was a merry one. “Seems to haveenjoyed it all, as you might say.”
“Whether Stephen Restarick is right or not about her marriage breaking up, I notice that she went out of her way tomention that Walter Hudd was back in the Great Hall, before that shot was heard.”
“Which, according to everyone else, isn’t so?”
“Exactly.”
“She didn’t mention Miss Bellever leaving the Hall to look for keys, either.”
“No,” said the Inspector thoughtfully, “she didn’t….”
第十三章
亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克很健谈，说话时还不时用手比划着。
“我清楚，我十分清楚。我是最理想的疑犯。我独自一人开车回家，心血来潮。我不指望你们能理解。你们又怎么能明白呢？”
“也许我能明白。”柯里冷冰冰地说，但亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克还在滔滔不绝地往下讲。
“我经常会有这种心血来潮的时候！不知什么时候就冒出一个主意来。想达到某种效果——有时只是个想法，把其他事都抛在脑后。下个月我导演的《石灰房》就要公演了，突然，我发现，路上的场景简直太美了……绝妙的灯光，大雾——前灯的灯光穿透雾气，然后被反射回来，依稀映照出几幢高大的建筑。一切都非常完美！枪声——奔跑的脚步声——发动机的咔嚓咔嚓声——仿佛在泰晤士河上开船。这就是我想达到的效果，但如何才能达到呢？接着——”
柯里警督插话道：“你听到枪声了是吗？在哪儿听到的？”
“警督，在雾里听到的。”亚历克斯挥舞着手——保养得很好的丰满双手，“在雾里听到的，这正是精彩之处。”
“你没觉得有什么不对劲吗？”
“不对劲？怎么会？”
“枪声应该很少会听到吧？”
“我就知道你不会明白！枪声正好迎合了我所创造的场景。剧里需要枪声，需要险情，甚至需要毒品——只要够疯够狂就好。我干吗在乎是不是谋杀呢？也许是马路上哪辆货车回火了？也许是偷猎者在打野兔？”
“这一带的人更喜欢用陷阱引野兔上钩。”
亚历克斯继续说道：“也许是小孩在放鞭炮？我根本没想到会是真的枪声。我当时仿佛置身于石灰房里——更准确地说是在剧院里看戏，正看着《石灰房》。”
“有几声枪响？”
“我不知道，”亚历克斯任性地说，“两三声吧。有两声挨得很近，这点我记得很清楚。”
柯里警督点了点头。
“你还提到奔跑的脚步声？那声音是从哪儿传来的呢？”
“在雾里，从房子附近的某个地方发出来的。”
柯里警督轻声说：“这意味着谋杀克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的凶手是从外面来的。”
“当然了，为什么不是呢？你总不会以为凶手是家里人吧？”
柯里警督仍然压低了声音说：“我们得考虑各方面的情况。”
“我想应当如此，”亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克很理解地说，“警督，你的工作太费精力了！包括时间、地点在内的细节和重重诡计都得考虑清楚。末了，你又会有什么好处呢？升天的克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森还能复活吗？”
“雷斯塔里克先生，认识你真让人高兴。”
“我是个豪放的西部人！”
“你和古尔布兰森先生很熟吗？”
“警督，还没熟到去杀他的地步。我自小就住在这儿，时不时见他一面。他很少来这儿，却是掌管业务的重要人物之一。我对他这种人不怎么感兴趣。听说他收集了许多索沃尔德森的雕塑作品……”亚历克斯耸了耸肩膀，“这就足以说明问题了，不是吗？上帝，这些有钱人啊！”
柯里警督若有所思地看着他，然后问亚历克斯：“雷斯塔里克先生，你熟悉毒药吗？”
“他是被毒死的吗？我的老天，他不会是先被下了毒然后才被枪杀的吧。这个故事简直太疯狂了。”
“他不是被毒死的。你还没回答我的问题呢！”
“毒药有着非常强大的魅力……不如左轮手枪或钝器那么残忍。说到毒药，我承认我对此知之不多。”
“你有砒霜吗？”
“演出后放在三明治里吗？这个想法真有意思。你认识罗斯•格里登吗？那些女演员一门心思想着玩花样、搏上位！罗斯有一次就用了毒药。我从来没想过使用砒霜。这种从除草剂或毒蝇纸中提取出来的东西我才不会用呢。”
“雷斯塔里克先生，你多长时间来这里一次？”
“警督大人，这可没个固定规矩。有时几个星期都不来，但我尽量每个周末都抽点时间来一趟，我一直把石门山庄当成自己真正的家。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人喜欢你经常来吗？”
“欠塞罗科尔德夫人的我永远都偿还不了。她给予的同情，爱护和理解——”
“还有不少钱吧？”
亚历克斯似乎很讨厌这种说法。
“她把我当儿子看，她欣赏我的工作。”
“她跟你谈过遗嘱吗？”
“当然谈过。警督，问这个有什么意义呢？塞罗科尔德夫人可没出过问题啊。”
“最好别出问题。”柯里警督沉下了脸。
“你到底是什么意思？”
“不知道就最好别问。”柯里警督说，“如果知道的话——你就走着瞧吧。”
亚历克斯出去以后，莱克警员说：“满嘴胡话，你说是吗？”
柯里摇摇头。
“不一定。他可能的确有创造力，可能就喜欢生活轻松和夸夸其谈，到底是个怎样的人很难说得清楚。他说听见了跑动的脚步声，是吗？我敢打赌这是他编的。”
“有什么特别的理由吗？”
“当然有特别的理由，虽然我还没找到，但总会找到的。”
“先生，或许是几个聪明小子溜出学院大楼干了这事，也可能是浑水摸鱼的盗贼，如果是这样的话……”
“罪犯就是要引导我们这样想。这个结论对谁都好。莱克，但要真是这样的话，我就把那顶新软帽给吞下去。”
＊＊＊
“我当时正好在弹钢琴，”斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克说，“弹了没多久，就听见刘易斯和埃德加的吵闹声。”
“你怎么看那件事？”
“说老实话，我没把那当回事。那个穷小子经常这样。他并不是真的糊涂，只是想发泄发泄。事实上，他瞧谁都不顺眼——特别是吉娜。”
“吉娜？你是指赫德夫人吗？他为什么生她的气呢？”
“因为她是女人——一个漂亮女人。吉娜却认为他很滑稽！她算半个意大利人，意大利人潜意识里都有些残酷。他们对老人，丑陋的人或某方面奇特的人没有任何同情心。他们喜欢随意指摘、讥笑那些人。吉娜就是这样。她对埃德加一点好感都没有。他荒唐又自负，骨子里对自己没信心。他想引人注意，却只让自己看上去更傻。小伙子的不幸遭遇对吉娜而言根本不算什么。”
“你是说埃德加•劳森爱上赫德夫人了吗？”柯里警督问。
斯蒂芬乐呵呵地说；“是的。其实我们多少都有些喜欢她！她也喜欢被很多人爱。”
“她丈夫喜欢这样吗？”
“他肯定不喜欢。这也挺受罪的，可怜的小伙子。事情总不能拖着，我是指他们很快就将结束婚姻。那只是战争造成的一个小错误而已。”
“有意思，”警督说，“但我们跑题了，我们正谈的是克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的谋杀案。”
“是啊，”斯蒂芬说，“但关于这件事我没什么可以告诉你的。我一直坐在那儿弹钢琴，直到乔利拿着一串生锈的钥匙，尝试用其中一把打开书房的锁才停下。”
“你一直在钢琴边不间断地弹琴吗？”
“你是说给书房里发生的大事件伴奏吗？不，争吵加剧时我便停了下来。我很清楚结局会如何。刘易斯有双非常有魔力的眼睛，只要看上埃德加一眼，埃德加就会瞬间崩溃。”
“但埃德加还是开了两枪。”
斯蒂芬轻轻地摇了摇头。
“他那不过是在演戏罢了。他喜欢这么干。我母亲过去也常这样，我四岁时她不是死了就是和别人私奔了。我记得她只要不顺心就会拿着枪发火。她在一个夜总会就这么干过，她的枪法不错，用弹孔在墙上画了个图案。但惹的麻烦可不小。你知道吗，她是个苏联的舞蹈演员。”
“雷斯塔里克先生，能否告诉我昨晚你在大厅时——也就是枪响前后——有谁离开过吗？”
“沃利出去修电灯了。朱丽叶•贝莱弗出去找钥匙开书房的门。据我所知，再没有别人出去过了。”
“如果真有人出去了，你会觉察到吗？”
斯蒂芬想了想。
“可能不会。如果有人来去都静悄悄的话。大厅里太暗了，加上我们全都全神贯注在书房里的争吵上。”
“你能肯定谁一直没出去过吗？”
“塞罗科尔德夫人——对，还有吉娜。我发誓她们肯定没出去过。”
“谢谢你，雷斯塔里克先生。”
斯蒂芬朝门走了过去，但他犹豫了一下，又转过身来。他问：“砒霜是怎么回事？”
“谁和你说过砒霜的事？”
“我弟弟。”
“哦，是他啊。”
斯蒂芬说：“是不是有人一直在给塞罗科尔德夫人下毒？”
“你怎么会想到塞罗科尔德夫人？”
“我读到过一些砒霜中毒的症状。末梢神经炎，是这种疾病，对吗？这正好说明最近一段时间以来她的身体为什么那么差。昨晚刘易斯把她的补药拿走了，这之间有没有什么关联？”
“这件事正在调查中。”柯里警督尽可能用不偏不倚的语气回答。
“她知道这件事吗？”
“塞罗科尔德先生认为我们不该惊扰到她。”
“警督，‘惊扰’这个词可不对，塞罗科尔德夫人从来不会被任何事所惊扰……克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森就是为这件事死的，对吗？他知道有人在给她下毒——但他又是如何发现的呢？不管怎么说，这件事太不可思议了，也太荒唐了。”
“雷斯塔里克先生，你对此感到非常惊讶吗？”
“是的。亚历克斯告诉我时，我几乎不能相信。”
“依你看，谁可能给塞罗科尔德夫人下毒呢？”
斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克英俊的脸上掠过一丝笑容。
“肯定不是一般人干的，可以排除她丈夫的可能性。刘易斯•塞罗科尔德不会从中得到什么好处，他崇敬他夫人，甚至不能忍受她小指头上有点疼痛。”
“那会是谁呢？你有什么想法吗？”
“我的确有些想法。我觉得这件事事出有因。”
“请你解释一下。”
斯蒂芬摇了摇头。
“只能从心理因素去解释，无法从其他方面来看。另外，我没有任何证据，所以还是不说为好。”
斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克平静地走了出去，柯里警督在面前的白纸上画着像猫一样的图案。
他在考虑三件事。第一件，斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克很会替自己着想；第二件，斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克和弟弟串通好了；第三件，斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克很英俊，而沃尔特•赫德相貌平平。
他对两件事很不理解——斯蒂芬所说的“从心理因素去解释”到底是什么意思；坐在钢琴边的斯蒂芬能否看见吉娜。他认为绝对看不到。
吉娜走进阴暗的书房，她的出现让房间一下子亮堂了许多。连柯里警督看见这位容光焕发的女士时也眨了眨眼。她坐下后身体略往桌上靠了靠，征询地问：“找我有什么事？”
柯里警督见她上身穿着红衬衫，下身穿深绿色宽腿裤，便冷冷地问：“赫德夫人，你怎么没穿丧服呢？”
“我没有丧服，”吉娜回答，“大家都认为应当穿黑衣服，再戴上些珠宝。我不这么想，我讨厌黑色，我觉得黑色很丑陋，只有招待和看门人才穿黑衣服。再说，克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森是八秆子都打不着的亲戚，他只是我外婆的继子。”
“我想你和他应该不怎么熟吧？”
吉娜摇了摇头。
“我小时候他来过三四次，战争爆发后我去了美国，六个月前才回到这里。”
“你是回来定居的吗？不只是单纯来看看？”
“我还没认真想过。”吉娜说。
“古尔布兰森先生昨晚回房间时你在大厅吗？”
“是的，他道过晚安后便离开了。外婆问他是否都安排妥当了，他说是的——乔利把一切都安排得很妥帖。可能和原话有差异，但也差得不多。他说有封信要写。”
“后来呢？”
吉娜把刘易斯和埃德加之间的争吵又描述了一遍，这个故事柯里警督已经听了许多遍，但吉娜的表述使之增添了几分趣味，变成了一出戏。
“用的是沃利的左轮手枪，”她说，“埃德加竟有胆从他的房间里偷出来，我真不敢相信他有那么大的胆子。”
“走进书房后埃德加就关上了门，你当时有所警觉了吗？”
“才不会呢，”说话时吉娜褐色的眼睛睁得大大的，“我喜欢这样，我喜欢这种戏剧化的表演。埃德加总是那么可笑，但谁都不会把他当一回事。”
“可他却用左轮手枪开枪了，不是吗？”
“是的，我们都以为他打中了刘易斯呢。”
“这你也喜欢吗？”柯里警督忍不住问。
“不。当时我吓坏了。除了外婆别人都吓坏了，只有外婆纹丝未动。”
“真是太神奇了。”
“没什么可神奇的。她是那种和世界完全脱钩的人，不相信世界上会有坏事发生，她是个十分可爱的老人。”
“这期间，有谁在大厅里？”
“除了克里斯蒂安舅舅，我们都在。”
“赫德夫人，不是所有人都一直待在大厅里，其间有人出入过大厅。”
“是这样吗？”吉娜含糊不清地问。
“你丈夫不就去修灯了吗？”
“对，沃利很擅长修理。”
“他出去时，有人听见枪响，当时所有人都以为枪声是从停车场传过来的。”
“我记不太清了……没错，那时灯已经亮了，沃利也回来了。”
“还有谁离开过大厅？”
“应该没有别人了。我完全不记得了。”
“赫德夫人，你当时坐在哪儿呢？”
“靠近窗户旁边。”
“是书房门旁的那扇窗吗？”
“是的。”
“你当时离开过大厅吗？”
“离开？那么热闹的时候我会离开吗？没有。”
吉娜似乎对这个说法很不以为然。
“其他人都坐在哪儿？”
“大部分围着壁炉。米尔德里德姨妈在织毛衣，简姨婆也在织毛衣——我是说马普尔小姐——外婆坐在那儿，什么也没干。”
“斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克呢？”
“斯蒂芬？开始时他在弹钢琴，后来就不知道了。”
“贝莱弗小姐呢？”
“像往常一样四处忙活。事实上她就没歇过，一直在找钥匙或别的什么。”
她突然问：“外婆的补药是怎么回事？药剂师在配药时出什么问题了吗？”
“你为什么这么想？”
“瓶子不见了，乔利四下寻找，白忙活了半天，亚历克斯才告诉她是警察拿走了，是这样的吗？”
柯里警督没有回答问题，反而问：“贝莱弗小姐是不是很生气？”
“乔利总爱大惊小怪，”吉娜满不在乎地说，“我有时都不知道外婆怎么能受得了她。”
“赫德夫人，我还有最后一个问题。你有没有想过是谁杀了克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，原因又是什么呢？”
“肯定是个怪人干的。真正的恶棍都十分聪明。他们会为了抢钱抢首饰用棍子把人打死——不单单是为了找乐子。但你要知道，这里住的是些精神失常的家伙，仅仅为了取乐就可能杀人，你不这么想吗？除了认为打死克里斯蒂安舅舅是为了取乐之外，我想不到还会有其他别的动机。不能完全说是取乐——这样说不准确，但——”
“你想不出他们的动机？”
“是的，我就是这个意思。”吉娜感激地说，“凶手什么也没拿走，对吧？”
“赫德夫人，学院大楼当时已经上锁关门了，没有通行证谁都不能出来。”
吉娜笑着说：“别信那个，从哪儿都能出来！他们教了我不少窍门呢。”
“她很活跃，”吉娜出去后莱克评论道，“我觉得她很容易相处。非常可爱的姑娘。有些像外国人，你明白我的意思吗？”
柯里警督冷冷地瞥了他一眼。莱克警员急忙改口说她很开朗。“你也许会说，看上去她很享受这一切。”
“撇开斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克说她婚姻破裂的话不谈，她在问答中强调沃尔特•赫德在人们听见枪响之前就已经回来了。”
“但别人的看法都和她相反，对吗？”
“是的。”
“她也没提贝莱弗小姐出去找钥匙的事。”
“对，她没有提到……”警督若有所思地说。
Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
1M rs. Strete fitted into the library very much better than Gina Hudd had done. There was nothing exotic about Mrs.
Strete. She wore black with onyx beads, and she wore a hairnet over carefully arranged grey hair.
She looked, Inspector Curry reflected, exactly as the relict of a canon of the Established Church should look—which was almost odd, because so few people ever did look like what they really were.
Even the tight line of her lips had an ascetic ecclesiastical flavour. She expressed Christian Endurance, and possiblyChristian Fortitude. But not, Curry thought, Christian Charity.
Moreover it was clear that Mrs. Strete was offended.
“I should have thought that you could have given me some idea of when you would want me, Inspector. I havebeen forced to sit around waiting all the morning.”
It was, Curry judged, her sense of importance that was hurt. He hastened to pour oil on the troubled waters.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Strete. Perhaps you don’t quite know how we set about these things. We start, you know,with the less important evidence—get it out of the way, so to speak. It’s valuable to keep to the last a person on whosejudgement we can rely—a good observer—by whom we can check what has been told us up to date.”
Mrs. Strete softened visibly.
“Oh, I see. I hadn’t quite realised….”
“Now you’re a woman of mature judgement, Mrs. Strete. A woman of the world. And then this is your home—you’re the daughter of the house, and you can tell me all about the people who are in it.”
“I can certainly do that,” said Mildred Strete.
“So you see that when we come to the question of who killed Christian Gulbrandsen, you can help us a great deal.”
“But is there any question? Isn’t it perfectly obvious who killed my brother?”
Inspector Curry leant back in his chair. His hand stroked his small neat moustache.
“Well—we have to be careful,” he said. “You think it’s obvious?”
“Of course. That dreadful American husband of poor Gina’s. He’s the only stranger here. We know absolutelynothing about him. He’s probably one of these dreadful American gangsters.”
“But that wouldn’t quite account for his killing Christian Gulbrandsen, would it? Why should he?”
“Because Christian had found out something about him. That’s what he came here for so soon after his last visit.”
“Are you sure of that, Mrs. Strete?”
“Again it seems to me quite obvious. He let it be thought his visit was in connection with the Trust—but that’snonsense. He was here for that only a month ago. And nothing of importance has arisen since. So he must have comeon some private business. He saw Walter on his last visit, and he may have recognised him—or perhaps madeinquiries about him in the States—naturally he has agents all over the world—and found out something reallydamaging. Gina is a very silly girl. She always has been. It is just like her to marry a man she knows nothing about—she’s always been man mad! A man wanted by the police, perhaps, or a man who’s already married, or some badcharacter in the underworld. But my brother Christian wasn’t an easy man to deceive. He came here, I’m sure, to settlethe whole business. Expose Walter and show him up for what he is. And so, naturally, Walter shot him.”
Inspector Curry, adding some out-sized whiskers to one of the cats on his blotting pad, said:
“Ye—es.”
“Don’t you agree with me that that’s what must have happened?”
“It could be—yes,” admitted the Inspector.
“What other solution could there be? Christian had no enemies. What I can’t understand is why you haven’talready arrested Walter?”
“Well, you see, Mrs. Strete, we have to have evidence.”
“You could probably get that easily enough. If you wired to America—”
“Oh yes, we shall check up on Mr. Walter Hudd. You can be sure of that. But until we can prove motive, there’snot very much to go upon. There’s opportunity, of course—”
“He went out just after Christian, pretending the lights had fused—”
“They did fuse.”
“He could easily arrange that.”
“True.”
“That gave him his excuse. He followed Christian to his room, shot him and then repaired the fuse and came backto the Hall.”
“His wife says he came back before you heard the shot from outside.”
“Not a bit of it! Gina would say anything. The Italians are never truthful. And she’s a Roman Catholic, of course.”
Inspector Curry sidestepped the ecclesiastical angle.
“You think his wife was in it with him?”
Mildred Strete hesitated for a moment.
“No—no, I don’t think that.” She seemed rather disappointed not to think so. She went on, “That must have beenpartly the motive—to prevent Gina’s learning the truth about him. After all, Gina is his bread and butter.”
“And a very beautiful girl.”
“Oh yes. I’ve always said Gina is good-looking. A very common type in Italy, of course. But if you ask me, it’smoney that Walter Hudd is after. That’s why he came over here and has settled down living on the Serrocolds.”
“Mrs. Hudd is very well off, I understand?”
“Not at present. My father settled the same sum on Gina’s mother, as he did on me. But, of course, she took herhusband’s nationality (I believe the law is altered now) and what with the war and his being a Fascist, Gina has verylittle of her own. My mother spoils her, and her American aunt, Mrs. Van Rydock, spent fabulous sums on her andbought her everything she wanted during the war years. Nevertheless, from Walter’s point of view, he can’t lay hishands on much until my mother’s death when a very large fortune will come to Gina.”
“And to you, Mrs. Strete.”
A faint colour came into Mildred Strete’s cheek.
“And to me, as you say. My husband and myself always lived quietly. He spent very little money except on books—he was a great scholar. My own money has almost doubled itself. It is more than enough for my simple needs. Stillone can always use money for benefit of others. Any money that comes to me, I shall regard as a sacred trust.”
“But it won’t be in a Trust, will it?” said Curry, wilfully misunderstanding. “It will come to you, absolutely.”
“Oh yes—in that sense. Yes, it will be mine absolutely.”
Something in the ring of that last word made Inspector Curry raise his head sharply. Mrs. Strete was not looking athim. Her eyes were shining, and her long thin mouth was curved in a triumphant smile.
Inspector Curry said in a considering voice:
“So in your view—and, of course, you’ve had ample opportunities of judging—Mr. Walter Hudd wants the moneythat will come to his wife when Mrs. Serrocold dies. By the way, she’s not very strong is she, Mrs. Strete?”
“My mother has always been delicate.”
“Quite so. But delicate people often live as long or longer than people who have robust health.”
“Yes, I suppose they do.”
“You haven’t noticed your mother’s health failing just lately?”
“She suffers from rheumatism. But then one must have something as one grows older. I’ve no sympathy withpeople who make a fuss over inevitable aches and pains.”
“Does Mrs. Serrocold make a fuss?”
Mildred Strete was silent for a moment. She said at last:
“She does not make a fuss herself, but she is used to being made a fuss of. My stepfather is far too solicitous. Andas for Miss Bellever, she makes herself positively ridiculous. In any case, Miss Bellever has had a very bad influencein this house. She came here many years ago, and her devotion to my mother, though admirable in itself, has reallybecome somewhat of an infliction. She literally tyrannises over my mother. She runs the whole house and takes far toomuch upon herself. I think it annoys Lewis sometimes. I should never be surprised if he told her to go. She has no tact—no tact whatever, and it is trying for a man to find his wife completely dominated by a bossy woman.”
Inspector Curry nodded his head gently.
“I see … I see….”
He watched her speculatively.
“There’s one thing I don’t quite get, Mrs. Strete. The position of the two Restarick brothers?”
“More foolish sentiment. Their father married my poor mother for her money. Two years afterwards, he ran awaywith a Yugoslavian singer of the lowest morals. He was a very unworthy person. My mother was softhearted enoughto be sorry for these two boys. Since it was out of the question for them to spend their holidays with a woman of suchnotorious morals, she more or less adopted them. They have been hangers-on here ever since. Oh yes, we’ve plenty ofspongers in this house, I can tell you that.”
“Alex Restarick had an opportunity of killing Christian Gulbrandsen. He was in his car alone—driving from thelodge to the house—what about Stephen?”
“Stephen was in the Hall with us. I don’t approve of Alex Restarick—he is getting to look very coarse and Iimagine he leads an irregular life—but I don’t really see him as a murderer. Besides, why should he kill my brother?”
“That’s what we always come back to, isn’t it?” said Inspector Curry genially. “What did Christian Gulbrandsenknow—about someone—that made it necessary for that someone to kill him?”
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Strete triumphantly. “It must be Walter Hudd.”
“Unless it’s someone nearer home.”
Mildred said sharply:
“What did you mean by that?”
Inspector Curry said slowly:
“Mr. Gulbrandsen seemed very concerned about Mrs. Serrocold’s health whilst he was here.”
Mrs. Strete frowned.
“Men always fuss over Mother because she looks fragile. I think she likes them to! Or else Christian had beenlistening to Juliet Bellever.”
“You’re not worried about your mother’s health yourself, Mrs. Strete?”
“No. I hope I’m sensible. Naturally Mother is not young—”
“And death comes to all of us,” said Inspector Curry. “But not ahead of its appointed time. That’s what we have toprevent.”
He spoke meaningly. Mildred Strete flared into sudden animation.
“Oh it’s wicked—wicked. No one else here really seems to care. Why should they? I’m the only person who was ablood relation to Christian. To Mother, he was only a grown-up stepson. To Gina, he isn’t really any relation at all.
But he was my own brother.”
“Half brother,” suggested Inspector Curry.
“Half brother, yes. But we were both Gulbrandsens in spite of the difference in age.”
Curry said gently, “Yes—yes, I see your point….”
Tears in her eyes, Mildred Strete marched out. Curry looked at Lake.
“So she’s quite sure it’s Walter Hudd,” he said. “Won’t entertain for a moment the idea of its being anybody else.”
“And she may be right.”
“She certainly may. Wally fits. Opportunity — and motive. Because if he wants money quick, his wife’sgrandmother would have to die. So Wally tampers with her tonic, and Christian Gulbrandsen sees him do it—or hearsabout it in some way. Yes, it fits very nicely.”
He paused and said:
“By the way, Mildred Strete likes money … She mayn’t spend it, but she likes it. I’m not sure why … She may bea miser—with a miser’s passion. Or she may like the power that money gives. Money for benevolence, perhaps? She’sa Gulbrandsen. She may want to emulate Father.”
“Complex, isn’t it?” said Sergeant Lake, and scratched his head.
Inspector Curry said:
“We’d better see this screwy young man, Lawson, and after that we’ll go to the Great Hall and work out who waswhere—and if and why—and when … we’ve heard one or two rather interesting things this morning.”
2It was very difficult, Inspector Curry thought, to get a true estimate of someone from what other people said.
Edgar Lawson had been described by a good many different people that morning, but looking at him now, Curry’sown impressions were almost ludicrously different.
Edgar did not impress him as “queer” or “dangerous” or “arrogant” or even as “abnormal.” He seemed a veryordinary young man, very much cast down and in a state of humility approaching that of Uriah Heep’s. He lookedyoung and slightly common and rather pathetic.
He was only too anxious to talk and to apologize.
“I know I’ve done very wrong. I don’t know what came over me—really I don’t. Making that scene and kicking upsuch a row. And actually shooting off a pistol. At Mr. Serrocold, too, who’s been so good to me and so patient, too.”
He twisted his hands nervously. They were rather pathetic hands, with bony wrists.
“If I’ve got to be had up for it, I’ll come with you at once. I deserve it. I’ll plead guilty.”
“No charge has been made against you,” said Inspector Curry crisply. “So we’ve no evidence on which to act.
According to Mr. Serrocold, letting off the pistol was an accident.”
“That’s because he’s so good. There never was a man as good as Mr. Serrocold! He’s done everything for me. AndI go and repay him by acting like this.”
“What made you act as you did?”
Edgar looked embarrassed.
“I made a fool of myself.”
Inspector Curry said drily:
“So it seems. You told Mr. Serrocold in the presence of witnesses that you had discovered that he was your father.
Was that true?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“What put that idea into your head? Did someone suggest it to you?”
“Well, it’s a bit hard to explain.”
Inspector Curry looked at him thoughtfully, then said in a kindly voice:
“Suppose you try. We don’t want to make things hard for you.”
“Well, you see, I had rather a hard time of it as a kid. The other boys jeered at me. Because I hadn’t got a father.
Said I was a little bastard—which I was, of course. Mum was usually drunk and she had men coming in all the time.
My father was a foreign seaman, I believe. The house was always filthy and it was all pretty fair hell. And then I got tothinking suppose my Dad had been not just some foreign sailor, but someone important—and I used to make up athing or two. Kid stuff first—changed at birth—really the rightful heir—that sort of thing. And then I went to a newschool and I tried it on once or twice hinting things. Said my father was really an Admiral in the navy. I got tobelieving it myself. I didn’t feel so bad then.”
He paused and then went on.
“And then—later—I thought up some other ideas. I used to stay at hotels and told a lot of silly stories about being afighter pilot—or about being in military intelligence. I got all sort of mixed up. I didn’t seem able to stop telling lies.
“Only I didn’t really try to get money by it. It was just swank so as to make people think a bit more of me. I didn’twant to be dishonest. Mr. Serrocold will tell you—and Dr. Maverick—they’ve got all the stuff about it.”
Inspector Curry nodded. He had already studied Edgar’s case history and his police record.
“Mr. Serrocold got me clear in the end and brought me down here. He said he needed a secretary to help him—andI did help him! I really did. Only the others laughed at me. They were always laughing at me.”
“What others? Mrs. Serrocold?”
“No, not Mrs. Serrocold. She’s a lady—she’s always gentle and kind. No, but Gina treated me like dirt. AndStephen Restarick. And Mrs. Strete looked down on me for not being a gentleman. So did Miss Bellever—and what’sshe? She’s a paid companion, isn’t she?”
Curry noted the signs of rising excitement.
“So you didn’t find them very sympathetic?”
Edgar said passionately:
“It was because of me being a bastard. If I’d had a proper father they wouldn’t have gone on like that.”
“So you appropriated a couple of famous fathers?”
Edgar blushed.
“I always seem to get to telling lies,” he muttered.
“And finally, you said Mr. Serrocold was your father. Why?”
“Because that would stop them once for all, wouldn’t it? If he was my father they couldn’t do anything to me!”
“Yes. But you accused him of being your enemy—of persecuting you.”
“I know—” He rubbed his forehead. “I got things all wrong. There are times when I don’t—when I don’t get thingsquite right. I get muddled.”
“And you took the revolver from Mr. Walter Hudd’s room?”
Edgar looked puzzled.
“Did I? Is that where I got it?”
“Don’t you remember where you got it?”
Edgar said:
“I meant to threaten Mr. Serrocold with it. I meant to frighten him. It was kid stuff all over again.”
Inspector Curry said patiently, “How did you get the revolver?”
“You just said—out of Walter’s room.”
“You remember doing that now?”
“I must have got it from his room. I couldn’t have got hold of it any other way, could I?”
“I don’t know,” said Inspector Curry. “Somebody—might have given it to you?”
Edgar was silent—his face a blank.
“Is that how it happened?”
Edgar said passionately:
“I don’t remember. I was so worked up. I walked about the garden in a red mist of rage. I thought people werespying on me, watching me, trying to hound me down. Even that nice white-haired old lady … I can’t understand it allnow. I feel I must have been mad. I don’t remember where I was and what I was doing half of the time!”
“Surely you remember who told you Mr. Serrocold was your father?”
Edgar gave the same blank stare.
“Nobody told me,” he said sullenly. “It just came to me.”
Inspector Curry sighed. He was not satisfied. But he judged he could make no further progress at present.
“Well, watch your step in future,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Yes, indeed, I will.”
As Edgar went Inspector Curry slowly shook his head.
“These pathological cases are the devil!”
“D’you think he’s mad, sir?”
“Much less mad than I’d imagined. Weak-headed, boastful, a liar—yet a certain pleasant simplicity about him.
Highly suggestible I should imagine….”
“You think someone did suggest things to him?”
“Oh yes, old Miss Marple was right there. She’s a shrewd old bird. But I wish I knew who it was. He won’t tell. Ifwe only knew that … Come on, Lake, let’s have a thorough reconstruction of the scene in the Hall.”
3“That fixes it pretty well.”
Inspector Curry was sitting at the piano. Sergeant Lake was in a chair by the window overlooking the lake.
Curry went on.
“If I’m half-turned on the piano stool, watching the study door, I can’t see you.”
Sergeant Lake rose softly and edged quietly through the door to the library.
“All this side of the room was dark. The only lights that were on were the ones beside the study door. No, Lake, Ididn’t see you go. Once in the library, you could go out through the other door to the corridor—two minutes to runalong to the Oak Suite, shoot Gulbrandsen and come back through the library to your chair by the window.
“The women by the fire have their backs to you. Mrs. Serrocold was sitting here—on the right of the fireplace, nearthe study door. Everyone agrees she didn’t move and she’s the only one who’s in the line of direct vision. Miss Marplewas here. She was looking past Mrs. Serrocold to the study. Mrs. Strete was on the left of the fireplace—close to thedoor out of the Hall to the lobby, and it’s a very dark corner. She could have gone and come back. Yes, it’s possible.”
Curry grinned suddenly.
“And I could go.” He slipped off the music stool and sidled along the wall and out through the door. “The onlyperson who might notice I wasn’t still at the piano would be Gina Hudd. And you remember what Gina said, ‘Stephenwas at the piano to begin with. I don’t know where he was later.’”
“So you think it’s Stephen?”
“I don’t know who it is,” said Curry. “It wasn’t Edgar Lawson or Lewis Serrocold or Mrs. Serrocold or Miss JaneMarple. But for the rest—” He sighed. “It’s probably the American. Those fused lights were a bit too convenient—acoincidence. And yet, you know, I rather like the chap. Still, that isn’t evidence.”
He peered thoughtfully at some music on the side of the piano. “Hindemith? Who’s he? Never heard of him.
Shostakovitch! What names these people have.” He got up and then looked down at the old-fashioned music stool. Helifted the top of it.
“Here’s the old-fashioned stuff. Handel’s Largo. Czerny’s Exercises. Dates back to old Gulbrandsen, most of this.
‘I know a lovely Garden’—Vicar’s wife used to sing that when I was a boy—”
He stopped—the yellow pages of the song in his hand. Beneath them, reposing on Chopin’s Preludes, was a smallautomatic pistol.
“Stephen Restarick,” exclaimed Sergeant Lake joyfully.
“Now don’t jump to conclusions,” Inspector Curry warned him. “Ten to one that’s what we’re meant to think.”
第十四章
I斯垂特夫人比吉娜更适合书房的气氛，她一身本地化装束，黑衣上别了个玛瑙胸针，头上的发网恰好罩住了灰白色的头发。
柯里警督觉得教士遗孀就该是这个样子，不过很少有人相貌正好和身份相符，这令人有些诧异。
甚至连她嘴唇上紧绷的纹路都有教会人士禁欲主张的痕迹。她体现着教会的隐忍和坚韧，但柯里没从她身上看出教会的宽厚。
斯垂特夫人显然很不高兴。
“警督，我以为叫我来是要告诉我什么消息呢，我已经等了一上午了。”
她那种唯我独尊的高傲无疑受到了伤害。柯里警督只得赶紧解释，以平息她的怒气。
“斯垂特夫人，真的很抱歉。你也许还不太明白我们是怎么处理这类事情的。先从不重要的证据着手，挨个排除。然后依靠关键人物来寻找有价值的线索，我们得听取他的判断，这个人必须长于观察，这样就可以核实前面的人说的对不对。”
斯垂特夫人的神色明显缓和了下来。
“我知道了。我只是不太清楚……”
“斯垂特夫人，你是个有成熟判断力的女性。你见过世面，这儿又是你的家，你是这家的女儿，你可以把对家里人的判断告诉我们。”
“我当然可以告诉你们。”米尔德里德•斯垂特说。
“所以，在关于是谁杀了克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森的问题上，你可以帮我们许多忙。”
“这还有什么疑问呢？谁杀了我哥哥不是已经一清二楚了吗？”
柯里警督靠在椅子上，手摸着唇上那一撮整齐的小胡子。
“我们得仔细点儿，”他说，“你觉得这个问题的答案已经很明显了，是吗？”
“是的。当然是吉娜那个可怕的美国丈夫，他是这里唯一的陌生人，我们对他一无所知。也许他是个可怕的美国土匪呢。”
“但这说明不了他为什么要杀克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，对吗？他为什么这么干？”
“因为克里斯蒂安发现了他的什么事，这就是他刚来不久又过来的原因。”
“斯垂特夫人，你能肯定吗？”
“在我看来这非常明显。克里斯蒂安想让别人以为他来是处理与信托公司有关的事情——但那些全都是假话。他一个月前刚来处理过信托公司的事，之后也没发生过什么要紧的事，他这次来一定是要处理私事。他上次来见过沃尔特，也许认得他——或许问过他在美国的一些事——克里斯蒂安在世界各地都有经纪人，可能发现了一些对沃尔特不利的事。吉娜是个傻姑娘，她一直都那样。她和一个自己完全不了解的人结了婚。她对男人非常迷恋！跟过一个被警方追捕的通缉犯，一个已婚男人，还有一个下层社会的烂人。这样的人很难骗过我哥哥克里斯蒂安。克里斯蒂安来这儿就是为了解决这件事，揭发沃尔特，让沃尔特现出原形。沃尔特自然要杀了他。”
柯里警督一边给纸上画的那只猫加上长长的胡须一边说：“也许是——吧。”
“你觉得不是这么回事吗？”
“我只能说有这个可能。”警督承认道。
“还有什么别的可能性吗？克里斯蒂安没有敌人。我不明白你为什么还不把沃尔特抓起来？”
“斯垂特夫人，我们得有证据。”
“有心去找很容易就能找到充足的证据。如果你给美国发个电报……”
“我们会调查沃尔特•赫德先生的，这点你尽管放心。但在找到作案动机之前，我们不会采取任何行动。碰巧机缘适合的话——”
“克里斯蒂安刚走他就跟了出去，假装电灯保险丝断了。”
“保险丝的确断了。”
“他能轻易把保险丝弄断。”
“这话不错。”
“他以此为借口，跟着克里斯蒂安到他房间，打死他，再修好保险丝返回大厅。”
“他太太说听到枪响之前他就回来了。”
“不是这样的！吉娜什么都敢说，意大利人从来不说真话。她们连天主教徒都这样。”
柯里警督把有关宗教的话题岔开。
“你认为他妻子和他串通好了，是吗？”
米尔德里德•斯垂特犹豫了一会儿。
“不，我不这么看。”她似乎对不能同意这个说法感到很失望，她说，“那也是动机的一部分——不让吉娜了解他的真面目。吉娜毕竟是他生活的依靠。”
“她是个很美的姑娘。”
“是的，我也认为吉娜很漂亮，当然在意大利人里算是普通的。不过我认为沃尔特•赫德跟吉娜结婚是为了钱，这就是他大老远来塞罗科尔德家的原因。”
“赫德夫人很有钱，是吗？”
“现在还不算。我父亲给我和吉娜的母亲留下了同等数目的一笔钱。吉娜的母亲出嫁后加入了丈夫的国籍（现在的法律也许已经变了），在战争中沾染了父亲的法西斯习气以后，吉娜变得非常自我。我母亲把她宠坏了，她的美国姨外婆范•赖多克夫人更是在她身上花了不少钱，战争期间什么都给她买。不过，从沃尔特的角度来看，在我母亲去世前他得不到多少钱财，只有在母亲去世后，一大笔钱才会转给吉娜。”
“还有你，斯垂特夫人。”
米尔德里德的脸颊有一点变红。
“正如你所说的那样，我的确会继承不少钱。我和丈夫一直过着平静的生活，除了买书，他很少花钱，他是位了不起的学者。我自己的钱已经快增值一倍了，这些钱供我过简朴的生活并且绰绰有余。还可以用来帮助其他人。至于转给我的钱，我会把它看做是一笔神圣的信托资金。”
“但你不会专门设立个信托资金，”柯里装作没明白她的话，“这些钱将完全属于你。”
“从这个意义上来说的确没错，它将绝对属于我。”
斯垂特夫人说“绝对”一词时的语气让柯里警督突然抬起了头。但斯垂特夫人并没看他，她目光发亮，细长的薄嘴唇稍稍翘起，带着胜利的微笑。
警督沉思着，问道：“照你这么说——你有充足的时间进行判断——沃尔特•赫德先生想占有塞罗科尔德夫人去世后留给吉娜的那笔钱？顺便问一下，你母亲的身体不太好，对吗，斯垂特夫人？”
“我母亲的身体一直很弱。”
“是的。但身体弱的人通常和健壮的人活得一样长，有时比他们更长。”
“是的，我也这么想。”
“最近没发现你母亲的身体越来越差了吗？”
“她有风湿病，人上了年纪总会有些毛病。对那些为了些小病大惊小怪的人，我并不同情。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人是那种大惊小怪的人吗？”
米尔德里德•斯垂特沉默了片刻，说道：“她自己倒没大惊小怪，但周围的人都在为她大惊小怪。我继父是个什么事都要管的人。还有贝莱弗小姐，她总是显得荒唐可笑。贝莱弗小姐在这个家里的影响很不好。她来这儿已经有很多年了，对我母亲的忠心本身非常可敬，但有时那简直成了一种折磨。她像个帝王一样看管着我母亲，什么都要管，权利太大了。有时刘易斯也为此而不快。如果有天他让她离开，我一点儿都不会奇怪。她不懂得圆滑处事，不懂得做人要世故一点。男人发现妻子被专横的女人所控制，一定很苦恼。”
柯里警督轻轻点了点头。“明白了……我明白了……”
他上下打量着她。
“斯垂特夫人，有件事我没怎么弄明白。那对雷斯塔里克兄弟究竟是怎么回事呢？”
“都是愚蠢的情感招来的。他们的父亲为了钱和我母亲结婚，两年后又和一个道德败坏的南斯拉夫歌星私奔。有一次，两兄弟因为没法和那个臭名远扬的女人一起度假而投奔我母亲，后来就经常来了。对了，我们家这样的寄生虫还有不少。”
“亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克有机会杀死克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，那时他正独自开车从住处回家。斯蒂芬有机会吗？”
“当时他和我们一起待在大厅里。我不认为是亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克干的，他虽然看上去很粗鲁，生活又极不规律，但我不认为他是凶手。另外，他为什么要杀我哥哥？”
“又绕到那个老问题上了，是吧？”柯里警督和蔼地说，“克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森知道的什么事使凶手觉得有必要杀了他，对吗？”
“正是。”斯垂特夫人得意地说，“而那个人只可能是沃尔特•赫德。”
“应该是和他更亲近一些的人干的。”
米尔德里德厉声道：“你这话是什么意思？”
柯里警督缓缓地说：“古尔布兰森似乎十分关注你母亲的健康状况。”
斯垂特夫人皱起了眉。
“男人们总爱对我的母亲大惊小怪，就因为她看上去很脆弱。我觉得她也乐于让他们那样！克里斯蒂安或许从朱丽叶•贝莱弗那儿了解到了这方面的情况。”
“斯垂特夫人，你不关心母亲的健康吗？”
“当然关心，但没他们那么敏感。母亲已经不年轻了——”
“死亡会降临到每个人头上，”柯里警督说，“但不应在正当的时刻之前降临，我们得避免人们提前去世。”他意味深长地说，米尔德里德听后一下子激动起来。
“太对了，你说得太对了。这里根本没人关心这事。他们干吗要去关心？对母亲来说，古尔布兰森不过是个长大了的继子。对吉娜而言，他根本算不上亲戚。我才是唯一和他有血缘关系的人，他是我亲哥哥。”
“同父异母的哥哥。”柯里警督提醒她。
“是的。虽然年龄相差很大，但我们都是古尔布兰森家族的人。”
柯里轻声说：“是的，我明白你的意思。”
米尔德里德•斯垂特眼里噙着泪水出了门。柯里看了看莱克警员。
“她断定是沃尔特•赫德干的，”他说，“丝毫不怀疑会是其他人。”
“也许她是对的。”
“也许吧。沃利很合适，他既有机会又有动机。如果要迅速拿到钱，他妻子的母亲必须去死。因此沃利对补药做了手脚，但被克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森发现了，或许是听人说的。
是的，这一切都很合理。”
他停了一下，又说：“顺便提一下，米尔德里德喜欢钱……也许她不花，但她喜欢钱。
我不知道这是为什么。也许她是个吝啬鬼，她有吝啬鬼的那股热情。也许她喜欢钱赋予她的权威。也许想用钱去行善？她是古尔布兰森家族的人，可能她酷似她的父亲。”
“很复杂，是吧？”莱克警员用手挠了挠头。
柯里警督说：“我们最好见一见乖僻的劳森，然后再去大厅里看看当时谁在哪个地方，继而找出原因、时间等线索……这个早晨，我们已经了解到一两件很有趣的事情了。”
II
柯里警督认为，要从别人的描述中知道第三方是个什么样的人简直太困难了。
那天早上许多人跟他提过埃德加•劳森，但柯里对站在面前的劳森的印象与别人的描述相去甚远。
他并不觉得埃德加“乖僻”、“危险”、“傲慢”，甚至不觉得他“不正常”。他看起来普普通通，表情很消沉，像狄更斯笔下虚伪却阴险的小职员一样谦卑。他年轻，悲伤，稍稍与常人有些不太一样。
他急切地开口道歉。
“我知道我错了。不知为何我失去了控制——我真不知道。我大闹了一场，竟然用手枪射击，而且是朝塞罗科尔德先生开火。他对我那么好，那么有耐心。”
他不安地搓着手，骨节突出的苍白双手显得非常可怜。
“如果我应该为此受到惩罚，那我马上跟你们走。我应该受到惩罚，我认罪。”
“现在没人指控你，”柯里警督干脆地说，“我们也没有证据可依。塞罗科尔德先生说你开枪是一场意外。”
“那是因为他太好了。没人能像塞罗科尔德先生那么好！他什么都为我做，可我却这样回报他。”
“你为什么那么干呢？”
埃德加看上去有些难为情。
“我那是故意让自己出洋相。”
柯里警督冷冷地说：“似乎是这样的。你当着众人的面对塞罗科尔德先生说你发现他是你父亲，这是真的吗？”
“不，没那回事。”
“你怎么会这么想？是有人暗示你的吗？”
“解释起来不是很容易。”
柯里警督若有所思地看着他，然后和蔼地说：“试着解释一下吧。我们不想难为你。”
“我的童年很不幸。别的孩子老讥笑我，因为我没父亲。他们说我是个杂种，当然这话也对。我妈妈总是酗酒，有各种男人来找她。我想我父亲是个外国海员。家里总是很脏，真像个地狱。那时我想，要是爸爸不是什么外国水手，而是个重要人物那该有多好——我常常自己乱编。开始只是孩子气的幻想，自己是大人物的合法继承人什么的。后来我上了一所学校，我试着暗示别人我是名人，说我父亲是海军上将。我努力让自己相信这种说法，觉得这样的感觉非常好。”
他停顿了一下又接着说：“再后来，我又有了些新的想法。我常在旅馆里编些荒唐的故事，说自己是一名战斗机飞行员，或是在军队情报处工作。我把这些都弄混了，没办法停止撒谎。
“不过我并不是为了骗钱，只是吹牛，好让别人认为我很了不起。我不想骗人。塞罗科尔德先生和马弗里克大夫可以证明，他们有这方面的材料。”
柯里警督点点头。他已经看过埃德加的卷宗及警方备案了。
“是塞罗科尔德先生帮我清醒过来的，他带我来这里，他说他需要一个秘书帮忙——我也确实帮了不少忙！但那些人嘲笑我，他们总是嘲笑我。”
“哪些人？塞罗科尔德夫人吗？”
“不，不是塞罗科尔德夫人，她是个温柔善良的好人。我说的是那个吉娜，她对我不屑一顾。还有斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克。斯垂特夫人也瞧不起我，说我不是个绅士。还有贝莱弗小姐——她自己又是什么？不过是个花钱雇的看护员，不是吗？”
柯里发现他的情绪有越来越激动的趋势。
“所以，你认为他们都没有同情心，对吗？”
埃德加激动地说：“全都是因为被人当作杂种。如果我有父亲的话，他们才不会那样呢。”
“所以你就自行设定了几个有名望的父亲，是吗？”
埃德加的脸红了。
“我总是忍不住要撒谎。”他小声说。
“最后你说塞罗科尔德先生是你父亲，你为什么这么说？”
“这样就可以把他们的嘴全堵上，不是吗？如果他是我父亲，他们就不敢把我怎么样了。”
“对。但你又说他是迫害你的敌人。”
“全都搞混了，”他擦了擦前额说，“有时我会颠倒是非，把这件事和那件事混在一起。”
“你从沃尔特•赫德先生的房间里拿了那把左轮枪，是吗？”
埃德加表情茫然。
“是吗？我是从那儿拿的吗？”
“你不记得自己是从哪儿拿到枪的了吗？”
埃德加说：“我只想用它威胁塞罗科尔德先生，吓唬吓唬他。不过是小孩子的把戏。”
柯里警督耐心地问：“你怎么弄到那把左轮手枪的？”
“你刚刚说了——从沃尔特的房间里拿的。”
“现在你记起来了？”
“肯定是从他的房间里拿的，没有别的办法拿到它，对吧？”
“我不知道，”柯里警督说，“也许是别人给你的？”
埃德加不吱声了，一脸茫然的样子。
“是那么回事吗？”
埃德加激动地说：“我记不得了。我太激动了，狂怒之下在花园里徘徊，我认为有人在监视我、观察我、试图盯我的梢。还有那个白发的老太太……当时的情况现在我全然无法理解，我想我一定是疯了。我不记得自己去过哪儿，很多事情我都忘了。”
“你应该记得是谁告诉你塞罗科尔德先生是你父亲的吧？”
埃德加的目光依旧十分茫然。
“没人告诉我，”他阴沉地说，“是我自己想出来的。”
柯里警督叹了一口气，他不满意，但觉得目前不会有什么进展了。
“好吧，自己小心点儿。”他说。
“是的，长官。我会的。”
埃德加出去以后，柯里警督缓缓地摇了摇头，“这些精神病真是可恶！”
“长官，你认为他疯了吗？”
“比我想象得轻。头脑不清，吹牛撒谎——不过人倒比较简单。我觉得他很容易受人支使……”
“真有人向他提起过什么吗？”
“是的，马普尔小姐在这点上的判断是正确的，她是个精明的老家伙。我想知道是谁支使他的。能够知道的话……莱克，我们去把大厅里的现场复原一遍。”
III
“正是这样。”
柯里警督坐在钢琴边弹奏。莱克警员坐在能俯视窗外湖水的椅子上。
柯里说：“如果坐在这儿，侧身看着书房门口，那我就看不见你了。”
莱克警员悄然起身，轻轻穿过门走进书房。
“房间这边很暗，只有书房门口附近的灯亮着。莱克，我看不见你出去。一旦到了书房，你就可以从另一道门到走廊里去，用两分钟跑到橡树套房，开枪打死古尔布兰森，然后穿过书房坐回窗户边的椅子上。
“火炉边的女士们背对着你。塞罗科尔德夫人坐在靠近书房门口的壁炉边。人人都说她没动，她是人们视野里唯一的人。马普尔小姐在这儿坐着，在塞罗科尔德夫人身后。斯垂特夫人在火炉左边，靠近大厅通往走廊门厅的那个门，那个角落很暗。她可能出去再返回。对，有这个可能。”
柯里突然笑了笑。
“我也同样可以。”他离开琴凳，从墙边侧身溜出去，“唯一可能发现我的人是吉娜•赫德。吉娜说过，‘斯蒂芬一开始在弹钢琴，后来不知去哪儿了。’”
“这么说，你认为是斯蒂芬吗？”
“我不知道，”柯里说，“不是埃德加•劳森，不是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德，不是塞罗科尔德夫人，也不是简•马普尔小姐。但其他人——”他叹了口气说，“可能是那个美国人。那些保险丝太好弄了——不会那么巧吧。但我喜欢那个小伙子，再说也没证据。”
他若有所思地看了眼钢琴边的乐谱。“海德密斯？他是谁？从没听说过这个人。肖斯塔科维奇！这都是什么名字啊。”他站起来，低头看着那只老式琴凳，拿起那些乐谱。
“都是些老掉牙的曲子，海德尔的慢板，车尔尼的练习曲。大多是老古尔布兰森那个时代的。我小时候牧师的妻子常唱《一个可爱的花园》——”
他突然闭嘴——手里拿着几张发黄的乐谱。乐谱和肖邦的《序曲》之间放着一把小型自动手枪。
“是斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克干的。”莱克警员高兴地叫了起来。
“别急着下结论，”柯里警督提醒他，“从眼下的情况看，只有十分之一的可能。”
Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
1M iss Marple climbed the stairs and tapped on the door of Mrs. Serrocold’s bedroom.
“May I come in, Carrie Louise?”
“Of course, Jane dear.”
Carrie Louise was sitting in front of the dressing table, brushing her silvery hair. She turned her head over hershoulder.
“Is it the police? I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, of course. Jolly insisted on my having my breakfast in bed. And Gina came into the room with it on tiptoe asthough I might be at death’s door! I don’t think people realise that tragedies like Christian’s death are much less shockto someone old. Because one knows by then how anything may happen—and how little anything really matters thathappens in this world.”
“Ye—es,” said Miss Marple dubiously.
“Don’t you feel the same, Jane? I should have thought you would.”
Miss Marple said slowly:
“Christian was murdered.”
“Yes … I see what you mean. You think that does matter?”
“Don’t you?”
“Not to Christian,” said Carrie Louise simply. “It matters, of course, to whoever murdered him.”
“Have you any idea who murdered him?”
Mrs. Serrocold shook her head in a bewildered fashion.
“No, I’ve absolutely no idea. I can’t even think of a reason. It must have been something to do with his being herebefore—just over a month ago. Because otherwise I don’t think he would have come here suddenly again for noparticular reason. Whatever it was must have started off then. I’ve thought and I’ve thought, but I can’t rememberanything unusual.”
“Who was here in the house?”
“Oh! the same people who are here now—yes, Alex was down from London about then. And—oh yes, Ruth washere.”
“Ruth?”
“Her usual flying visit.”
“Ruth,” said Miss Marple again. Her mind was active. Christian Gulbrandsen and Ruth? Ruth had come awayworried and apprehensive, but had not known why. Something was wrong was all that Ruth could say. ChristianGulbrandsen had also been worried and apprehensive, but Christian Gulbrandsen had known or suspected somethingthat Ruth did not. He had known or suspected that someone was trying to poison Carrie Louise. How had ChristianGulbrandsen come to entertain those suspicions? What had he seen or heard? Was it something that Ruth also hadseen or heard but which she had failed to appreciate at its rightful significance? Miss Marple wished that she knewwhat it could possibly have been. Her own vague hunch that it (whatever it was) had to do with Edgar Lawson seemedunlikely since Ruth had not even mentioned him.
She sighed.
“You’re all keeping something from me, aren’t you?” asked Carrie Louise.
Miss Marple jumped a little as the quiet voice spoke.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you are. Not Jolly. But everyone else. Even Lewis. He came in while I was having my breakfast, and heacted very oddly. He drank some of my coffee and even had a bit of toast and marmalade. That’s so unlike him,because he always has tea, and he doesn’t like marmalade, so he must have been thinking of something else—and Isuppose he must have forgotten to have his own breakfast. He does forget things like meals, and he looked soconcerned and preoccupied.”
“Murder—” began Miss Marple.
Carrie Louise said quickly:
“Oh, I know. It’s a terrible thing. I’ve never been mixed up in it before. You have, haven’t you, Jane?”
“Well—yes—actually I have,” Miss Marple admitted.
“So Ruth told me.”
“Did she tell you that last time she was down here?” asked Miss Marple curiously.
“No, I don’t think it was then. I can’t really remember.”
Carrie Louise spoke vaguely, almost absentmindedly.
“What are you thinking about, Carrie Louise?”
Mrs. Serrocold smiled and seemed to come back from a long way away.
“I was thinking of Gina,” she said. “And of what you said about Stephen Restarick. Gina’s a dear girl, you know,and she does really love Wally. I’m sure she does.”
Miss Marple said nothing.
“Girls like Gina like to kick up their heels a bit.” Mrs. Serrocold spoke in an almost pleading voice. “They’reyoung and they like to feel their power. It’s natural, really. I know Wally Hudd isn’t the sort of man we imagined Ginamarrying. Normally she’d never have met him. But she did meet him, and fell in love with him—and presumably sheknows her own business best.”
“Probably she does,” said Miss Marple.
“But it’s so very important that Gina should be happy.”
Miss Marple looked curiously at her friend.
“It’s important, I suppose, that everyone should be happy.”
“Oh yes. But Gina’s a very special case. When we took her mother—when we took Pippa—we felt that it was anexperiment that had simply got to succeed. You see, Pippa’s mother—”
Carrie Louise paused.
Miss Marple said, “Who was Pippa’s mother?”
Carrie Louise said, “Eric and I agreed that we would never tell anybody that. She never knew herself.”
“I’d like to know,” said Miss Marple.
Mrs. Serrocold looked at her doubtfully.
“It isn’t just curiosity,” said Miss Marple. “I really—well—need to know. I can hold my tongue, you know.”
“You could always keep a secret, Jane,” said Carrie Louise with a reminiscent smile. “Dr. Galbraith—he’s theBishop of Cromer now—he knows. But no one else. Pippa’s mother was Katherine Elsworth.”
“Elsworth? Wasn’t that the woman who administered arsenic to her husband? Rather a celebrated case.”
“Yes.”
“She was hanged?”
“Yes. But you know it’s not at all sure that she did it. The husband was an arsenic eater—they didn’t understand somuch about those things then.”
“She soaked flypapers.”
“The maid’s evidence, we always thought, was definitely malicious.”
“And Pippa was her daughter?”
“Yes. Eric and I determined to give the child a fresh start in life—with love and care and all the things a childneeds. We succeeded. Pippa was—herself. The sweetest, happiest creature imaginable.”
Miss Marple was silent a long time.
Carrie Louise turned away from the dressing table.
“I’m ready now. Perhaps you’ll ask the Inspector or whatever he is to come up to my sitting room. He won’t mind,I’m sure.”
2Inspector Curry did not mind. In fact, he rather welcomed the chance of seeing Mrs. Serrocold on her own territory.
As he stood there waiting for her, he looked round him curiously. It was not his idea of what he termed to himself“a rich woman’s boudoir.”
It had an old-fashioned couch and some rather uncomfortable looking Victorian chairs with twisted woodworkbacks. The chintzes were old and faded but of an attractive pattern displaying the Crystal Palace. It was one of thesmaller rooms, though even then it was larger than the drawing room of most modern houses. But it had a cosy, rathercrowded appearance with its little tables, its bric-a-brac, and its photographs. Curry looked at an old snapshot of twolittle girls, one dark and lively, the other plain, and staring out sulkily on the world from under a heavy fringe. He hadseen that same expression that morning. “Pippa and Mildred” was written on the photograph. There was a photographof Eric Gulbrandsen hanging on the wall, with a gold mount and a heavy ebony frame. Curry had just found aphotograph of a good-looking man with eyes crinkling with laughter, whom he presumed was John Restarick, whenthe door opened and Mrs. Serrocold came in.
She wore black, a floating and diaphanous black. Her little pink-and-white face looked unusually small under itscrown of silvery hair, and there was a frailness about her that caught sharply at Inspector Curry’s heart. Heunderstood, at that moment, a good deal that had perplexed him earlier in the morning. He understood why peoplewere so anxious to spare Caroline Louise Serrocold everything that could be spared her.
And yet, he thought, she isn’t the kind that would ever make a fuss….
She greeted him, asked him to sit down, and took a chair near him. It was less he who put her at her ease than shewho put him at his. He started to ask his questions and she answered them readily and without hesitation. The failureof the lights, the quarrel between Edgar Lawson and her husband, the shot they had heard….
“It did not seem to you that the shot was in the house?”
“No, I thought it came from outside. I thought it might have been the backfire of a car.”
“During the quarrel between your husband and this young fellow Lawson in the study, did you notice anybodyleaving the Hall?”
“Wally had already gone to see about the lights. Miss Bellever went out shortly afterwards—to get something, but Ican’t remember what.”
“Who else left the Hall?”
“Nobody, so far as I know.”
“Would you know, Mrs. Serrocold?”
She reflected a moment.
“No, I don’t think I should.”
“You were completely absorbed in what you could hear going on in the study?”
“Yes.”
“And you were apprehensive as to what might happen there?”
“No—no, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t think anything would really happen.”
“But Lawson had a revolver?”
“Yes.”
“And was threatening your husband with it?”
“Yes. But he didn’t mean it.”
Inspector Curry felt his usual slight exasperation at this statement. So she was another of them!
“You can’t possibly have been sure of that, Mrs. Serrocold.”
“Well, but I was sure. In my own mind, I mean. What is it the young people say—putting on an act? That’s what Ifelt it was. Edgar’s only a boy. He was being melodramatic and silly and fancying himself as a bold desperatecharacter. Seeing himself as the wronged hero in a romantic story. I was quite sure he would never fire that revolver.”
“But he did fire it, Mrs. Serrocold.”
Carrie Louise smiled.
“I expect it went off by accident.”
Again exasperation mounted in Inspector Curry.
“It was not by accident. Lawson fired that revolver twice—and fired it at your husband. The bullets only justmissed him.”
Carrie Louise looked startled and then grave.
“I can’t really believe that. Oh yes—” she hurried on to forestall the Inspector’s protest. “Of course, I have tobelieve it, if you tell me so. But I still feel there must be a simple explanation. Perhaps Dr. Maverick can explain it tome.”
“Oh yes, Dr. Maverick will explain it all right,” said Curry grimly. “Dr. Maverick can explain anything. I’m sure ofthat.”
Unexpectedly Mrs. Serrocold said:
“I know that a lot of what we do here seems to you foolish and pointless, and psychiatrists can be very irritatingsometimes. But we do achieve results, you know. We have our failures, but we have successes too. And what we try todo is worth doing. And though you probably won’t believe it, Edgar is really devoted to my husband. He started thissilly business about Lewis’ being his father because he wants so much to have a father like Lewis. But what I can’tunderstand is why he should suddenly get violent. He had been so very much better—really practically normal.
Indeed, he has always seemed normal to me.”
The Inspector did not argue the point.
He said, “The revolver that Edgar Lawson had was one belonging to your granddaughter’s husband. PresumablyLawson took it from Walter Hudd’s room. Now tell me, have you ever seen this weapon before?”
On the palm of his hand he held out the small black automatic.
Carrie Louise looked at it.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I found it in the piano stool. It has recently been fired. We haven’t had time to check on it fully yet, but I shouldsay that it is almost certainly the weapon with which Mr. Gulbrandsen was shot.”
She frowned.
“And you found it in the piano stool?”
“Under some very old music. Music that I should say had not been played for years.”
“Hidden, then?”
“Yes. You remember who was at the piano last night?”
“Stephen Restarick.”
“He was playing?”
“Yes. Just softly. A funny, melancholy little tune.”
“When did he stop playing, Mrs. Serrocold?”
“When did he stop? I don’t know.”
“But he did stop? He didn’t go on playing all through the quarrel?”
“No. The music just died down.”
“Did he get up from the piano stool?”
“I don’t know. I’ve no idea what he did until he came over to the study door to try and fit a key to it.”
“Can you think of any reason why Stephen Restarick should shoot Mr. Gulbrandsen?”
“None whatever,” she added thoughtfully, “I don’t believe he did.”
“Gulbrandsen might have found something discreditable about him.”
“That seems to me very unlikely.”
Inspector Curry had a wild wish to reply:
“Pigs may fly but they’re very unlikely birds.” It had been a saying of his grandmother’s. Miss Marple, he thought,was sure to know it.
3Carrie Louise came down the broad stairway, and three people converged upon her from different directions, Ginafrom the long corridor, Miss Marple from the library, and Juliet Bellever from the Great Hall.
Gina spoke first.
“Darling!” she exclaimed passionately. “Are you all right? They haven’t bullied you or given you third degree oranything?”
“Of course not, Gina. What odd ideas you have! Inspector Curry was charming and most considerate.”
“So he ought to be,” said Miss Bellever. “Now, Cara, I’ve got all your letters here and a parcel. I was going tobring them up to you.”
“Bring them into the library,” said Carrie Louise.
All four of them went into the library.
Carrie Louise sat down and began opening her letters. There were about twenty or thirty of them.
As she opened them, she handed them to Miss Bellever who sorted them into heaps, explaining to Miss Marple asshe did so, “Three main categories. One—from relations of the boys. Those I hand over to Dr. Maverick. Beggingletters I deal with myself. And the rest are personal—and Cara gives me notes on how to deal with them.”
The correspondence once disposed of, Mrs. Serrocold turned her attention to the parcel, cutting the string withscissors.
Out of the neat wrappings, there appeared an attractive box of chocolates tied up with a gold ribbon.
“Someone must think it’s my birthday,” said Mrs. Serrocold with a smile.
She slipped off the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a visiting card. Carrie Louise looked at it with slightsurprise.
“With love from Alex,” she read. “How odd of him to send me a box of chocolates by post on the same day he wascoming down here.”
Uneasiness stirred in Miss Marple’s mind.
She said quickly:
“Wait a minute, Carrie Louise. Don’t eat one yet.”
Mrs. Serrocold looked faintly surprised.
“I was going to hand them round.”
“Well, don’t. Wait while I ask—is Alex about the house, do you know, Gina?”
Gina said quickly, “Alex was in the Hall just now, I think.”
She went across, opened the door, and called him.
Alex Restarick appeared in the doorway a moment later.
“Madonna darling! So you’re up. None the worse?”
He came across to Mrs. Serrocold and kissed her gently on both cheeks.
Miss Marple said:
“Carrie Louise wants to thank you for the chocolates.”
Alex looked surprised.
“What chocolates?”
“These chocolates,” said Carrie Louise.
“But I never sent you any chocolates, darling.”
“The box has got your card in,” said Miss Bellever.
Alex peered down.
“So it has. How odd. How very odd … I certainly didn’t send them.”
“What a very extraordinary thing,” said Miss Bellever.
“They look absolutely scrumptious,” said Gina, peering into the box. “Look, Grandam, there are your favouriteKirsch ones in the middle.”
Miss Marple gently but firmly took the box away from her. Without a word she took it out of the room and went tofind Lewis Serrocold. It took her some time because he had gone over to the College — she found him in Dr.
Maverick’s room there. She put the box on the table in front of him. He listened to her brief account of thecircumstances. His face grew suddenly stern and hard.
Carefully, he and the doctor lifted out chocolate after chocolate and examined them.
“I think,” said Dr. Maverick, “that these ones I have put aside have almost certainly been tampered with. You seethe unevenness of the chocolate coating underneath? The next thing to do is to get them analysed.”
“But it seems incredible,” said Miss Marple. “Why, everyone in the house might have been poisoned!”
Lewis nodded. His face was still white and hard.
“Yes. There is a ruthlessness—a disregard—” he broke off. “Actually, I think all these particular chocolates areKirsch flavouring. That is Caroline’s favourite. So, you see, there is knowledge behind this.”
Miss Marple said quietly:
“If it is as you suspect—if there is—poison—in these chocolates, then I’m afraid Carrie Louise will have to knowwhat is going on. She must be put upon her guard.”
Lewis Serrocold said heavily:
“Yes. She will have to know that someone wants to kill her. I think that she will find it almost impossible tobelieve.”
第十五章
Ⅰ
马普尔小姐上楼敲了敲塞罗科尔德夫人卧室的门。
“卡莉•路易丝，能让我进来吗？”
“亲爱的简，当然可以。”
卡莉•路易丝在梳妆台前梳理着银色的头发。她转过身。
“是警察吗？我马上就好。”
“你没事吧？”
“没事，当然没事。乔利觉得我应该在床上吃早饭。吉娜送早饭时踮着脚走，像是我马上要进坟墓了！人们也许不会意识到，克里斯蒂安的悲剧对一个老人而言不算什么，因为有了阅历以后你就会明白，任何事都有可能发生——世上的事对我们而言早已无足轻重了。”
“大概是的。”马普尔小姐似乎有些怀疑。
“简，你不这么看吗？我还以为你和我看法相同呢。”
马普尔小姐缓缓地说：“克里斯蒂安是被谋杀的。”
“是……我知道你的意思，你觉得这有什么关系吗？”
“你不认为这有关系吗？”
“对克里斯蒂安来说已经没什么关系了。”卡莉•路易丝淡淡地说，“对杀害他的人来说，当然有关系。”
“你知道是谁杀了他吗？”
塞罗科尔德夫人迷惑地摇了摇头。
“不，我不知道，甚至想不出杀他的理由。肯定与他上次来这儿有关——就在一个多月以前。没有特别理由的话，他不会这么快又来这儿一趟的，事情肯定从那时就开始了。我想了又想，实在说不上有什么特别的事。上次他来这儿时也是现在这些人——对了，那时亚历克斯去了伦敦，露丝在这里。”
“露丝那时在这儿？”
“她和往常一样，闪电来访。”
“露丝那时在这儿啊。”马普尔小姐重复了一遍。她的大脑在飞快地运转着。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森和露丝同时在这里？露丝走后忧心忡忡，不知为什么而担心，她只感觉有些事不对头。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森发现或怀疑一些露丝不了解的事，他发现或怀疑有人企图毒死卡莉•路易丝。克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森为什么会起疑心？他看见或听见什么了吗？是不是露丝看见或听见什么却没意识到其严重后果呢？马普尔小姐希望了解其中的真相。凭她的直觉，她认为这和埃德加•劳森有关，但看起来又不太可能，露丝压根没提到过埃德加•劳森。
她叹了一口气。
“你们都在瞒着我什么事，是吗？”卡莉•路易丝问。
马普尔小姐听到卡莉平静的问话，略微有些惊讶。
“为什么这么问？”
“因为你们都这样。不只乔利，人人都这样，甚至连刘易斯也包括在内。我吃早饭时他走进来，行为很异常。他喝了我的咖啡，还吃了点面包和果酱。这太不像他了，因为他习惯喝茶，而且从来不吃果酱，他肯定在想别的什么事。或者忘了吃早饭，他的确偶尔会忘记吃早饭，可今天他看上去很忧虑，一副心事重重的样子。”
“是被杀人——”马普尔小姐刚要开口说话，就被路易丝抢了先。
“哦，我知道了，遇到杀人案就开始疑神疑鬼。我以前从没遇过这种事。简，你遇到过这种事吗？”
“是的——没错——我的确遇见过。”马普尔小姐说。
“露丝和我说过。”
“是她上次来这儿时告诉你的吗？”马普尔小姐好奇地问道。
“不，我想不是那时候。我已经记不清了。”
卡莉•路易丝语焉不详，一副心不在焉的样子。
“卡莉•路易丝，你在想什么？”
塞罗科尔德夫人笑了笑，似乎把思绪从很远的地方拉了回来。
她说：“我在想吉娜。还有你说的有关斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克的事。吉娜是个可爱的姑娘。她真心爱沃利。我敢肯定她爱他。”
马普尔小姐什么话都没说。
“吉娜这样的女孩子喜欢热热闹闹的生活。”塞罗科尔德夫人几乎是用辩解的语气说，“她年轻，喜欢觉得自己有能力，这很自然。我知道沃利•赫德不是我们认为吉娜应该嫁的那种人。一般情况下她永远都不会碰上他，但他们的确相遇了，还相爱了——也许没人比她更了解自己。”
“也许吧。”马普尔小姐说。
“重要的是吉娜应该幸福。”
马普尔小姐好奇地看着她的朋友。
“我认为人人都该幸福。”
“对，但吉娜的情况特殊。领养她母亲皮帕时，我们觉得这是一个必须成功的试验。皮帕的母亲……”
卡莉•路易丝犹豫了一下。
马普尔小姐问：“皮帕的母亲是谁？”
卡莉•路易丝说：“我和埃里克说好永远也不说出去的。她自己也不知道。”
“我想知道她母亲是谁。”马普尔小姐又说了一遍。
塞罗科尔德夫人疑虑重重地看着她。
“不只是出于好奇，”马普尔小姐说，“我真的需要知道，我会守口如瓶的。”
“简，我知道你能保守秘密，”卡莉•路易丝带着怀旧的笑说，“加尔布雷思医生——现在是克罗默的主教，除了我们就他知道。皮帕的母亲是凯瑟林•埃尔斯沃思。”
“埃尔斯沃思？不就是那个给丈夫下砒霜的女人吗？那起案子曾轰动一时。”
“是的。”
“她被处以绞刑了，是吗？”
“是的。但根本不是她干的。她丈夫习惯食用砒霜——那时他们还不了解这类事情。”
“她用苍蝇纸浸药水。”
“女佣的证言用心险恶。”
“皮帕是她女儿吗？”
“是的。埃里克和我决心给这个孩子开启新的生活，给她爱和关怀，给她一个孩子需要的一切。我们成功了。皮帕不同于她的亲生父母，她是你能想象出的最可爱、最幸福的女孩子。”
II
柯里警督并不在意见见女主人，实际上他很希望有机会在塞罗科尔德夫人自己的房间里见到她。
站着等她时，他好奇地四下里看了看。觉得用“一个有钱夫人的闺房”来形容这个房间并不是很合适。
房间里有一把老式长凳和一些看上去并不怎么舒适的维多利亚式椅子，椅背都弯了。
印花布也挺旧的，已然褪色，不过上面是引人注目的水晶宫图案。房间比较小，不过仍比大多数新房子里的客厅大。里面有几张小桌子，上面陈列着古玩摆设及照片，显得有些拥挤。柯里看了看一张旧照片，上面是两个小姑娘，一个皮肤有些暗，很活泼；另一个相貌一般，浓密的刘海下，一双眼睛愤懑地盯着眼前的世界——早上他刚见过这副表情。照片下方写着“皮帕和米尔德里德”。一张埃里克•古尔布兰森的照片挂在墙上，乌檀木相架下面是个金质的底座。柯里还看见一张英俊男人微笑着的照片，他猜那是约翰尼•雷斯塔里克。
这时门开了，塞罗科尔德夫人走了进来。
她穿着一件轻薄精致的黑衣服，白皙红润的脸在银发的映衬下显得格外娇小，她的纤弱给柯里警督留下了很深的印象。那一刻他明白了早上令他费解的事，他突然理解大家为什么都急切地想把下毒的事瞒过卡莉•路易丝•塞罗科尔德了。
但他认为卡莉•路易丝不是那种容易大惊小怪的人。
打过招呼后，她请柯里坐下，自己拉了一把椅子坐在他身边。他开始提问题，她毫不犹豫地欣然对答——灯灭了，埃德加和她丈夫之间的争执，听见的枪声……“你不认为枪声是从家里传来的吗？”
“是的，我以为是从外面传来的。我想可能是汽车回火。”
“你丈夫和劳森在书房里争执时，是否有人离开过大厅？”
“沃利出去检查灯了，贝莱弗小姐不久后也出去了——去拿什么东西，不过我记不得她去拿什么了。”
“还有谁出去过？”
“据我所知，再没别人了。”
“再想想，记得起来吗，塞罗科尔德夫人？”
她想了一会儿。
“不，我想我不记得了。”
“你的精力完全集中在书房里发生的事上了，是吗？”
“是的。”
“你担心里边会发生什么事吗？”
“不，我不这么想，我认为什么事都不会发生。”
“但劳森有一把左轮手枪？”
“是的。”
“他还用枪威胁你丈夫？”
“是的。但他的本意并非如此。”
和之前一样，柯里警督对这种话感到恼火。她和那些人完全一样！
“塞罗科尔德夫人，这种事你可说不准。”
“我很肯定。我说的是我的看法。按他们年轻人的说法——这只是一场演出。我当时就是这种感觉。埃德加只是个孩子，他不过有些戏剧化，很容易犯傻，把自己想象成鲁莽绝望的角色，或是浪漫故事中受委屈的英雄。我敢肯定，他不会真的开火的。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人，但他还是开枪了。”
卡莉•路易丝微笑着说：“我想那是枪走火了。”
柯里警督的火气加剧了。
“不是走火。劳森开了两枪——朝你丈夫开的。子弹擦过他的身子而过。”
卡莉•路易丝很吃惊，然后突然严肃起来。
“我不相信，对，”预见到警督会反驳，她连忙再做解释，“如果你这么说我当然得相信。可我觉得原因一定很简单，也许马弗里克医生会向我解释的。”
“对，马弗里克大夫的确可以解释，”柯里悻悻然说，“马弗里克大夫可以解释任何事，这一点我敢肯定。”
塞罗科尔德夫人出人意料地说：“我知道我们在这里干的事对你来说愚蠢至极又毫无意义，有时精神病医生是挺让人恼火的。但我们确实出了成绩。我们有失败，但也有成功之处。我们努力去做值得做的事。可能你不相信，但埃德加确实十分爱我丈夫。他错把刘易斯当成是他的父亲，那是因为他希望有个像刘易斯一样的父亲。我纳闷的是他为什么突然狂躁起来。他最近正在不断进步——几乎算正常了。其实我一直认为他很正常。”
警督对此没发表任何看法，他说：“埃德加拿的左轮手枪是你外孙女的丈夫的。也许是劳森从沃尔特•赫德的房间里拿的。请你告诉我，以前你见过那把枪吗？”
此时警督的掌心里就托着那把黑色的自动手枪。
“不，我想我没见过。”
“我是在琴凳上发现的。最近有人用过。我们还来不及彻底检验，但我想，它铁定就是杀死古尔布兰森先生的那把枪。”
女主人皱起眉头。
“在琴凳上发现的吗？”
“在一些旧乐谱下面发现的。那些乐谱应该有好几年没人动过了。”
“是谁把它藏起来了吗？”
“应该是的。昨晚谁坐在那儿弹钢琴呢？”
“斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克。”
“他弹了吗？”
“是的，轻轻弹奏了一首忧伤但诙谐的小曲。”
“塞罗科尔德夫人，他是什么时候停下来的？”
“什么时候停下来的？我怎么知道？”
“但他的确停下了，是吗？屋里发生争执时他并没有一直在弹琴。”
“是的，后来音乐声渐渐弱了下来。”
“他从琴凳上站起来了吗？”
“不知道。我不清楚他干了些什么，直到贝莱弗小姐在书房门口试钥匙时我才注意到他。”
“你能想出斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克杀害古尔布兰森先生的原因吗？”
“想不出来。”她又谨慎地补充了一句，“我认为不是他干的。”
“古尔布兰森也许发觉了什么对他不利的事。”
“我看不太可能。”
柯里警督非常想说他祖母常说的一句话：“猪即使会飞，但它们终究不是鸟。”他觉得马普尔小姐肯定知道这句话。
III
卡莉•路易丝走下宽敞的楼梯，三个人从不同的方向朝她走来——吉娜从长长的走廊走来，马普尔小姐从书房来，朱丽叶•贝莱弗从大厅走来。
吉娜首先开口。
“亲爱的！”她情绪激动地叫着，“你没事吧？他们没欺负或拷问你吧？”
“当然没有了，吉娜。你都想到哪儿去了！柯里警督很体贴人。”
“他就应该这样，”贝莱弗小姐说，“卡莉，我把你的信件和包裹全拿来了，正好要给你送去。”
“拿到书房去吧。”卡莉•路易丝说。
四个人走进书房。
卡莉•路易丝坐下来开始拆信，大约有二三十封。
打开信后，她便把它们递给贝莱弗小姐。贝莱弗小姐把信分开放，同时向马普尔小姐解释：“主要分三种，一些是那些孩子的亲人寄来的，要交给马弗里克大夫。求援信由我处理。剩下的就是私人信件——卡拉会一一告诉我该如何处理。”
整理完信件，塞罗科尔德夫人注意到那个包裹，她用剪刀把缝合线剪开。
打开整齐的包装纸，里面有一盒诱人的巧克力，盒子上系着一条金丝带。
“有人以为我快过生日了。”塞罗科尔德夫人笑着说。
她解开丝带，打开盒子。里面有一张卡片，卡莉•路易丝看后略显惊讶。
“爱你的亚历克斯，”她说，“他可真怪，既然来了，干吗还寄巧克力来。”
马普尔小姐变得不安起来，她飞快地说：“卡莉•路易丝，一个都别吃。”
塞罗科尔德夫人有些意外。
“我正想分给大家呢。”
“不要。我想先问一下——吉娜，亚历克斯在家吗？”
吉娜迅速回答说：“亚历克斯刚才还在大厅呢。”说着她开门把他叫来了。
亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克很快就出现在门口。
“亲爱的夫人！你起来了。你还好吧？”
他走到塞罗科尔德夫人身边，亲了亲她的双颊。
马普尔小姐说：“卡莉•路易丝要多谢你送给她的巧克力。”
亚历克斯显得很惊奇。
“什么巧克力？”
“这些巧克力呀。”卡莉•路易丝说。
“亲爱的，我从来没给你寄过巧克力。”
“盒子上有你的卡片。”贝莱弗小姐说。
亚历克斯低头看了看。
“太怪了。真怪……可我绝对没寄。”
“这件事太莫名其妙了。”贝莱弗小姐说。
“它们看上去很棒，”吉娜往盒子里瞥了几眼，“外婆，中间有你最爱吃的那种巧克力。”
马普尔小姐坚决地把盒子拿开，一句话也没说，拿着它走出书房去找刘易斯•塞罗科尔德。她费了一番工夫才找到他，他去学院那边了。最终她在马弗里克的房间见到了他。马普尔小姐把巧克力盒放在他面前的桌子上，把情况解释了一下。他的脸突然变得冷峻而严厉。
他和大夫小心地把一块块巧克力拿出来，仔细检查了一遍。
马弗里克大夫说：“被我放到一边的巧克力肯定被人动过手脚了。看到巧克力外层那些不均匀的颗粒了吗？应该找人分析一下。”
“这简直太不可思议了，”马普尔小姐说，“家里的每个人都有可能被毒死！”
刘易斯点了点头，他的脸色苍白而严肃。
“太残忍了——根本不考虑——”他停下来，“这些可疑的巧克力都是卡罗琳最爱吃的口味。所以，这背后大有文章。”
马普尔小姐轻声说：“如果事情正如你们所怀疑的那样，巧克力中有毒，那我认为卡莉•路易丝必须应该了解这件事了。她得一直提防着。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德沉重地说：“对。她必须得知道有人要杀她。虽然她会觉得难以置信。”
Chapter Sixteen
Sixteen
1“’E re, Miss. Is it true as there’s an ’ideous poisoner at work?”
Gina pushed the hair back from her forehead, and jumped as the hoarse whisper reached her. There was paint onher cheek and paint on her slacks. She and her selected helpers had been busy on the backcloth of the Nile at sunset fortheir next theatrical production.
It was one of these helpers who was now asking the question. Ernie, the boy who had given her such valuablelessons in the manipulations of locks. Ernie’s fingers were equally dextrous at stage carpentry, and he was one of themost enthusiastic theatrical assistants.
His eyes now were bright and beady with pleasurable anticipation.
“Where on earth did you get that idea?” asked Gina indignantly.
Ernie shut one eye.
“It’s all round the dorms,” he said. “But look ’ere, Miss, it wasn’t one of us. Not a thing like that. And nobodywouldn’t do a thing to Mrs. Serrocold. Even Jenkins wouldn’t cosh her. ’Tisn’t as though it was the old bitch.
Wouldn’t ’alf like to poison ’er, I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t talk like that about Miss Bellever.”
“Sorry, Miss. It slipped out. What poison was it, Miss? Strickline, was it? Makes you arch your back and die inagonies, that does. Or was it Prussian acid?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ernie.”
Ernie winked again.
“Not ’alf you don’t. Mr. Alex it was done it, so they say. Brought them chocs down from London. But that’s a lie.
Mr. Alex wouldn’t do a thing like that, would he, Miss?”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” said Gina.
“Much more likely to be Mr. Birnbaum. When he’s giving us P.T. he makes the most awful faces and Don and Ithink as he’s batty.”
“Just move that turpentine out of the way.”
Ernie obeyed, murmuring to himself:
“Don’t ’arf see life ’ere! Old Gulbrandsen done in yesterday and now a secret poisoner. D’you think it’s the sameperson doing both? What ud you say, Miss, if I told you as I know oo it was done ’im in?”
“You can’t possibly know anything about it.”
“Coo, carn’t I neither? Supposin’ I was outside last night and saw something.”
“How could you have been out? The College is locked up after roll call at seven.”
“Roll call … I can get out whenever I likes, Miss. Locks don’t mean nothing to me. Get out and walk round thegrounds just for the fun of it, I do.”
Gina said:
“I wish you’d stop telling lies, Ernie.”
“Who’s telling lies?”
“You are. You tell lies and you boast about things that you’ve never done at all.”
“That’s what you say, Miss. You wait till the coppers come round and arsk me all about what I saw last night.”
“Well, what did you see?”
“Ah,” said Ernie, “wouldn’t you like to know?”
Gina made a rush at him and he beat a strategic retreat. Stephen came over from the other side of the theatre andjoined Gina. They discussed various technical matters and then, side by side, they walked back towards the house.
“They all seem to know about Grandam and the chocs,” said Gina. “The boys, I mean. How do they get to know?”
“Local grapevine of some kind.”
“And they knew about Alex’s card. Stephen, surely it was very stupid to put Alex’s card in the box when he wasactually coming down here.”
“Yes, but who knew he was coming down here? He decided to come on the spur of the moment and sent atelegram. Probably the box was posted by then. And if he hadn’t come down, putting his card in would have beenquite a good idea. Because he does send Caroline chocolates sometimes.”
He went on slowly:
“What I simply can’t understand is—”
“Is why anyone should want to poison Grandam,” Gina cut in. “I know. It’s inconceivable! She’s so adorable—andabsolutely everyone does adore her.”
Stephen did not answer. Gina looked at him sharply.
“I know what you’re thinking, Steve!”
“I wonder.”
“You’re thinking that Wally—doesn’t adore her. But Wally would never poison anyone. The idea’s laughable.”
“The loyal wife!”
“Don’t say that in that sneering tone of voice.”
“I didn’t mean to sneer. I think you are loyal. I admire you for it. But, darling Gina, you can’t keep it up, youknow.”
“What do you mean, Steve?”
“You know quite well what I mean. You and Wally don’t belong together. It’s just one of those things that doesn’twork. He knows it, too. The split is going to come any day now. And you’ll both be much happier when it has come.”
Gina said:
“Don’t be idiotic.”
Stephen laughed.
“Come now, you can’t pretend that you’re suited to each other or that Wally’s happy here.”
“Oh, I don’t know what’s the matter with him,” cried Gina. “He sulks the whole time. He hardly speaks. I—I don’tknow what to do about him. Why can’t he enjoy himself here? We had such fun together once—everything was fun—and now he might be a different person. Why do people have to change so?”
“Do I change?”
“No, Steve darling. You’re always Steve. Do you remember how I used to tag round after you in the holidays?”
“And what a nuisance I used to think you—that miserable little kid Gina. Well, the tables are turned now. You’vegot me where you want me, haven’t you, Gina?”
Gina said quickly:
“Idiot.” She went on hurriedly, “Do you think Ernie was lying? He was pretending he was roaming about in the foglast night, and hinting that he could tell things about the murder. Do you think that might be true?”
“True? Of course not. You know how he boasts. Anything to make himself important.”
“Oh I know. I only wondered—”
They walked along side by side without speaking.
2The setting sun illumined the west fa?ade of the house. Inspector Curry looked towards it.
“Is this about the place where you stopped your car last night?” he asked.
Alex Restarick stood back a little as though considering.
“Near enough,” he said. “It’s difficult to tell exactly because of the fog. Yes, I should say this was the place.”
Inspector Curry stood looking round with an appraising eye.
The gravelled sweep of drive swept round in a slow curve, and at this point, emerging from a screen ofrhododendrons, the west fa?ade of the house came suddenly into view with its terrace and yew hedges and stepsleading down to the lawns. Thereafter the drive continued in its curving progress, sweeping through a belt of trees andround between the lake and the house until it ended in the big gravel sweep at the east side of the house.
“Dodgett,” said Inspector Curry.
Police Constable Dodgett, who had been holding himself at the ready, started spasmodically into motion. He hurledhimself across the intervening space of lawn in a diagonal line towards the house, reached the terrace, and went in bythe side door. A few moments later, the curtains of one of the windows were violently agitated. Then ConstableDodgett reappeared out of the garden door, and ran back to rejoin them, breathing like a steam engine.
“Two minutes and forty-two seconds,” said Inspector Curry, clicking the stop watch with which he had been timinghim. “They don’t take long, these things, do they?”
His tone was pleasantly conversational.
“I don’t run as fast as your constable,” said Alex. “I presume it is my supposed movements you have been timing?”
“I’m just pointing out that you had the opportunity to do murder. That’s all, Mr. Restarick. I’m not making anyaccusations—as yet.”
Alex Restarick said kindly to Constable Dodgett who was still panting:
“I can’t run as fast as you can, but I believe I’m in better training.”
“It’s since ’aving the bronchitis last winter,” said Dodgett.
Alex turned back to the Inspector.
“Seriously, though, in spite of trying to make me uncomfortable and observing my reactions—and you mustremember that we artistic folk are oh! so sensitive, such tender plants!”—his voice took on a mocking note—“youcan’t really believe I had anything to do with all this? I’d hardly send a box of poisoned chocolates to Mrs. Serrocoldand put my card inside, would I?”
“That might be what we are meant to think. There’s such a thing as a double bluff, Mr. Restarick.”
“Oh, I see. How ingenious you are. By the way, those chocolates were poisoned?”
“The six chocolates containing Kirsch flavouring in the top layer were poisoned, yes. They contained aconitine.”
“Not one of my favourite poisons, Inspector. Personally, I have a weakness for curare.”
“Curare has to be introduced into the bloodstream, Mr. Restarick, not into the stomach.”
“How wonderfully knowledgeable the police force are,” said Alex admiringly.
Inspector Curry cast a quiet sideways glance at the young man. He noted the slightly pointed ears, the un-EnglishMongolian type of face. The eyes that danced with mischievous mockery. It would have been hard at any time toknow what Alex Restarick was thinking. A satyr—or did he mean a faun? An overfed faun, Inspector Curry thoughtsuddenly, and somehow there was an unpleasantness about that idea.
A twister with brains—that’s how he would sum up Alex Restarick. Cleverer than his brother. Mother had been aRussian or so he had heard. “Russians” to Inspector Curry were what “Bony” had been in the early days of thenineteenth century and what “the Huns” had been in the early twentieth century. Anything to do with Russia was badin Inspector Curry’s opinion, and if Alex Restarick had murdered Gulbrandsen he would be a very satisfactorycriminal. But unfortunately Curry was by no means convinced that he had.
Constable Dodgett, having recovered his breath, now spoke.
“I moved the curtains as you told me, sir,” he said. “And counted thirty. I noticed that the curtains have a hook tornoff at the top. Means that there’s a gap. You’d see the light in the room from outside.”
Inspector Curry said to Alex:
“Did you notice light streaming out from that window last night?”
“I couldn’t see the house at all because of the fog. I told you so.”
“Fog’s patchy, though. Sometimes it clears for a minute here and there.”
“It never cleared so that I could see the house—the main part, that is. The gymnasium building close at handloomed up out of the mist in a deliciously unsubstantial way. It gave a perfect illusion of dock warehouses. As I toldyou, I am putting on a Limehouse Ballet and—”
“You told me,” agreed Inspector Curry.
“One gets in the habit, you know, of looking at things from the point of view of a stage set, rather than from thepoint of view of reality.”
“I daresay. And yet a stage set’s real enough, isn’t it, Mr. Restarick?”
“I don’t see exactly what you mean, Inspector.”
“Well, it’s made of real materials—canvas and wood and paint and cardboard. The illusion is in the eye of thebeholder, not in the set itself. That, as I say, is real enough, as real behind the scenes as it is in front.”
Alex stared at him.
“Now that, you know, is a very penetrating remark, Inspector. It’s given me an idea.”
“For another ballet?”
“No, not for another ballet … Dear me, I wonder if we’ve all been rather stupid?”
3The Inspector and Dodgett went back to the house across the lawn. (Looking for footprints, Alex said to himself. Buthere he was wrong. They had looked for footprints very early that morning and had been unsuccessful because it hadrained heavily at 2 A.M. ) Alex walked slowly up the drive, turning over in his mind the possibilities of his new idea.
He was diverted from this however by the sight of Gina walking on the path by the lake. The house was on a slighteminence, and the ground sloped gently down from the front sweeps of gravel to the lake, which was bordered byrhododendrons and other shrubs. Alex ran down the gravel and found Gina.
“If you could black out that absurd Victorian monstrosity,” he said, screwing up his eyes, “this would make a verygood Swan Lake, with you, Gina, as the Swan Maiden. You are more like the Snow Queen though, when I come tothink of it. Ruthless, determined to have your own way, quite without pity or kindliness or the rudiments ofcompassion. You are very very feminine, Gina dear.”
“How malicious you are, Alex dear!”
“Because I refuse to be taken in by you? You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you, Gina? You’ve got us allwhere you want us. Myself, Stephen, and that large, simple husband of yours.”
“You’re talking nonsense.”
“Oh no, I’m not. Stephen’s in love with you, I’m in love with you, and Wally’s desperately miserable. What morecould a woman want?”
Gina looked at him and laughed.
Alex nodded his head vigorously.
“You have the rudiments of honesty, I’m glad to see. That’s the Latin in you. You don’t go to the trouble ofpretending that you’re not attractive to men—and that you’re terribly sorry about it if they are attracted to you. Youlike having men in love with you, don’t you, cruel Gina? Even miserable little Edgar Lawson!”
Gina looked at him steadily.
She said in a quiet serious tone:
“It doesn’t last very long, you know. Women have a much worse time of it in the world than men do. They’re morevulnerable. They have children, and they mind—terribly—about their children. As soon as they lose their looks, themen they love don’t love them anymore. They’re betrayed and deserted and pushed aside. I don’t blame men. I’d bethe same myself. I don’t like people who are old or ugly or ill, or who whine about their troubles, or who areridiculous like Edgar, strutting about and pretending he’s important and worthwhile. You say I’m cruel? It’s a cruelworld! Sooner or later it will be cruel to me! But now I’m young and I’m nice looking and people find me attractive.”
Her teeth flashed out in her peculiar, warm sunny smile. “Yes, I enjoy it, Alex. Why shouldn’t I?”
“Why indeed?” said Alex. “What I want to know is what you are going to do about it. Are you going to marryStephen or are you going to marry me?”
“I’m married to Wally.”
“Temporarily. Every woman should make one mistake matrimonially—but there’s no need to dwell on it. Havingtried out the show in the provinces, the time has come to bring it to the West End.”
“And you’re the West End?”
“Indubitably.”
“Do you really want to marry me? I can’t imagine you married.”
“I insist on marriage. Affaires, I always think, are so very old-fashioned. Difficulties with passports and hotels andall that. I shall never have a mistress unless I can’t get her any other way!”
Gina’s laugh rang out fresh and clear.
“You do amuse me, Alex.”
“It is my principal asset. Stephen is much better looking than I am. He’s extremely handsome and very intensewhich, of course, women adore. But intensity is fatiguing in the home. With me, Gina, you will find life entertaining.”
“Aren’t you going to say you love me madly?”
“However true that may be, I shall certainly not say it. It would be one up to you and one down to me if I did. No,all I am prepared to do is to make you a businesslike offer of marriage.”
“I shall have to think about it,” said Gina, smiling.
“Naturally. Besides, you’ve got to put Wally out of his misery first. I’ve a lot of sympathy with Wally. It must beabsolute hell for him to be married to you and trailed along at your chariot wheels into this heavy, family atmosphereof philanthropy.”
“What a beast you are, Alex!”
“A perceptive beast.”
“Sometimes,” said Gina, “I don’t think Wally cares for me one little bit. He just doesn’t notice me anymore.”
“You’ve stirred him up with a stick and he doesn’t respond? Most annoying.”
Like a flash, Gina swung her palm and delivered a ringing slap on Alex’s smooth cheek.
“Touché!” cried Alex.
With a quick, deft movement, he gathered her into his arms and before she could resist, his lips fastened on hers ina long ardent kiss. She struggled a moment and then relaxed….
“Gina!”
They sprang apart. Mildred Strete, her face red, her lips quivering, glared at them balefully. For a moment, theeagerness of her words choked their utterance.
“Disgusting … disgusting … you abandoned beastly girl … you’re just like your mother … You’re a bad lot … Ialways knew you were a bad lot … utterly depraved … and you’re not only an adulteress—you’re a murderess too. Ohyes, you are. I know what I know!”
“And what do you know? Don’t be ridiculous, Aunt Mildred.”
“I’m no aunt of yours, thank goodness. No blood relation to you. Why you don’t even know who your mother wasor where she came from! But you know well enough what my father was like and my mother. What sort of a child doyou think they would adopt? A criminal’s child or a prostitute’s probably! That’s the sort of people they were. Theyought to have remembered that bad blood will tell. Though I daresay that it’s the Italian in you that makes you turn topoison.”
“How dare you say that?”
“I shall say what I like. You can’t deny now, can you, that somebody tried to poison Mother? And who’s the mostlikely person to do that? Who comes into an enormous fortune if Mother dies? You do, Gina, and you may be sure thatthe police have not overlooked that fact.”
Still trembling, Mildred moved rapidly away.
“Pathological,” said Alex. “Definitely pathological. Really most interesting. It makes one wonder about the lateCanon Strete … religious scruples, perhaps?… Or would you say impotent?”
“Don’t be disgusting, Alex. Oh I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.”
Gina clenched her hands and shook with fury.
“Lucky you hadn’t got a knife in your stocking,” said Alex. “If you had, dear Mrs. Strete might have knownsomething about murder from the point of view of the victim. Calm down, Gina. Don’t look so melodramatic and likeItalian Opera.”
“How dare she say I tried to poison Grandam?”
“Well, darling, somebody tried to poison her. And from the point of view of motive you’re well in the picture,aren’t you?”
“Alex!” Gina stared at him, dismayed. “Do the police think so?”
“It’s extremely difficult to know what the police think … They keep their own counsel remarkably well. They’re byno means fools, you know. That reminds me—”
“Where are you going?”
“To work out an idea of mine.”
第十六章
I“小姐，听说有个可怕的家伙在给人下毒，是吗？”
吉娜把头发从前额捋开，听见有人用嘶哑的声音和她说话，她吓了一跳。吉娜的脸和宽松裤子上都擦上了颜料，此时她正和几名帮手为下次演出准备背景幕布——日落时分的尼罗河。
和她说话的是其中一名帮手，他叫厄尼，曾教过她如何打开各种锁。厄尼的手指在整理幕布时同样纯熟，也是最热衷于此的几个助手之一。
他的眼睛带着愉悦的期盼，闪闪发亮。
他闭上一只眼睛。
“宿舍里到处都在传呢，但小姐，你听着，不是我们当中的任何一个人，我们不会干这种事。没人会对塞罗科尔德夫人干坏事。甚至詹金斯也不会用棍子打她。她不像那个狠毒的老妖婆。谁都不会给她下毒的，我也不会。”
“别那么说贝莱弗小姐。”
“对不起，小姐，我随口说的。是什么毒药，小姐？是草酸吗？它能让人驼背，最后死于剧痛。还是甲基氯仿？”
“我不懂你在说什么，厄尼。”
厄尼又眨了眨眼睛。
“你的确什么都不懂！他们说是亚历克斯先生干的，他从伦敦送来了巧克力。可那是谎话。亚历克斯先生不会干这种事的，对吧，小姐？”
“他当然不会。”吉娜说。
“很可能是鲍姆加登先生。他付我们工钱时脸色很难看，我和多恩都认为他不正常。”
“把那盒松节油拿走。”
厄尼照办了，他自言自语地说：“这儿究竟怎么了！昨天老古尔布兰森被人枪击，今天又有一个神秘的投毒者。你认为是同一个人干的吗？小姐，如果我告诉你我知道有谁与之有关，你会听吗？”
“你什么都不可能知道。”
“我不可能知道吗？昨晚我出去时看见了一些事情。”
“你怎么可能出去？七点钟点名后，学院大门就锁上了。”
“点名算什么……我什么时候想出去都可以，小姐。锁对我来说只是开胃小菜。我昨晚出去四处走了走，散了散心。”
吉娜说：“厄尼，我希望你不要再撒谎了。”
“谁在撒谎？”
“你呀，你爱撒谎，吹嘘自己干了些没干过的事。”
“小姐，你千万别不信，咱们等警察们来问我昨晚都看见了些什么好了。”
“好吧，你看见什么了？”
厄尼说：“你不是不想知道吗？”
吉娜朝他冲过去，他狡猾地往后退。这时斯蒂芬从剧院另一侧进来找吉娜，他们讨论了一些技术问题，然后肩并肩回家了。
“他们似乎都知道了外婆和巧克力的事，”吉娜说，“我是说学员们。他们是怎么知道的？”
“有密探之类的内线吧。”
“他们还知道亚历克斯的卡片。斯蒂芬，他要来这儿却还在盒子里放卡片，这真是太傻了。”
“可谁知道他要来呢？他突发奇想就跑来了，只发了个电报。也许盒子是在那之前寄的。如果他没来，在盒子里放张卡片还真是个好主意，绝对骗得了人。他的确给卡罗琳寄过几次巧克力。”斯蒂芬缓缓地说，“让我不理解的是——”
“为什么有人要毒死外婆，对吧？”吉娜抢先说道，“太无法想象了！她那么受人尊敬——每个人都崇敬她。”
斯蒂芬没有回答。吉娜严厉地看着他。
“斯蒂芬，我知道你在想什么！”
“我在琢磨是谁下的毒。”
“你觉得是沃利，沃利不尊重她。但沃利不会毒害任何人，这个想法太可笑了。”
“你可真是位忠诚的好太太！”
“别用嘲讽的语气跟我说话。”
“我不是故意讥笑你。你的确很忠诚，我佩服你。可是亲爱的吉娜，你不能老这样下去。”
“斯蒂芬，你这是什么意思？”
“你明白我什么意思。你和沃利不是一路人。你们的婚姻很失败，他也明白这一点。你们随时都有可能分手，到了那一天，你们双方都会觉得更幸福。”
吉娜说：“别犯傻了。”
斯蒂芬笑了起来。
“你们不必装着很适合彼此，沃利也不必装着在这里很幸福。”
“我不知道他是怎么了，”吉娜大声说，“他总是闷闷不乐，几乎不说话。我——我不知该拿他怎么办。他在这儿为什么不开心？我们在一起时那么开心——一切都很有趣——也许他变了。为什么人会变？”
“我变了吗？”
“不，亲爱的斯蒂芬，你总是斯蒂芬。你还记得假期里我天天跟在你身后吗？”
“那时我觉得你很烦——讨厌的小吉娜。现在风水转了。你到哪儿我就跟到哪儿，对吗，吉娜？”
吉娜飞快地说：“傻瓜。”紧接着又说，“你认为厄尼在骗人吗？他说他昨晚在大雾里四处游逛，还暗示他知道谋杀的事。你觉得那会是真的吗？”
“当然不会。你知道他爱吹牛，只要能让自己显得重要，他什么都敢说。”
“我知道。我只想知道……”
他们肩并肩地往前走，一路再无话。
II
落日映红了房子的西侧。
柯里警督打量着那里。
“这就是你昨天停车的地方？”他问。
亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克往后退了一步，似乎在用心思考。
“差不多，”他说，“因为有雾所以说不准。对，我觉得大概是这里。”
柯里警督站在原地，四处打量了一番。
沙石铺成的车道缓缓地拐进来，旁边是一簇簇杜鹃花，从这里可以看见房屋西侧的平台、紫杉木篱笆和连着草坪的屋前台阶。车道继续弯转上行，穿过一片树丛，经过人造湖与房子外围，在房屋东侧的一个砾石坡地走到尽头。
“道吉特。”柯里警督叫道。
道吉特警员做好准备，马上行动了起来。他沿着一条对角线穿过中间的一片草坪冲向房子，上了平台从侧门进去。片刻之后，一扇窗户的窗帘剧烈地抖动了一下，接着道吉特警员从花园门冲了出来，返回大家身边，喘得上气不接下气。
“两分四十二秒，”柯里警督一边喊一边用力按下计时表，“用不了多长时间就能完成，不是吗？”
他的语气很轻松，像在交谈。
“我可没你们警员跑得那么快，”亚历克斯说，“你记录的时间是假设我是谋杀犯所用的时间吧？”
“我不过是说你有机会作案，雷斯塔里克先生，并没指控你——至少现在还没有。”
亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克态度友好，对喘着粗气的道吉特警员说：“我没你跑得快，不过我相信我比你体质好。”
“从去年冬天以来，我的支气管炎就没好。”道吉特警员说。
亚历克斯转身看着警督。
“说正经的，被你们这样观察让我很不高兴，你们得知道我们搞艺术的都有些敏感，都很脆弱！”他的话音中有些挖苦的味道，“你该不会真以为我与这件事有关吧？我不会寄一盒有毒的巧克力给塞罗科尔德夫人，再把写有名字的卡片放进去的，对吧？”
“对方是想往这个方向上引，雷斯塔里克先生，你也可能是虚实并用。”
“我明白了。你们真的很聪明。顺便问一下，那些巧克力真的有毒吗？”
“六块塞罗科尔德夫人最爱吃的樱桃白兰地巧克力表面放了毒物，里面放了乌头碱。”
“警督，那不是我偏爱的毒药。从我个人角度讲，我更喜欢马钱子碱。”
“雷斯塔里克先生，马钱子碱必须进入血液才会起作用，乌头碱吃下去就能致人于死地了。”
“警官的知识真是太渊博了。”亚历克斯钦佩地感叹。
柯里警督瞥了一眼这位年轻人。他有一双略显突出的耳朵，一张与英国人不太一样、更像蒙古人的面孔。略带恶作剧的眼珠嘲讽地快速转动着，让人很难判断他在想什么——这是个色情狂还是个好色之徒？柯里警督突然这样想到。多半是个肆无忌惮的好色之徒，这个想法让他很不高兴。
奸诈而狡猾的家伙——这是他对亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克的评价。他比他兄弟聪明。他母亲是个俄国人，至少柯里是这么听别人说的。对柯里警督来说，“俄国人”就像是十九世纪早期的“匈奴人”，或二十世纪早期的“德国兵”。在柯里警督的眼里，任何与俄国有关的事都不是好事，如果真是亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克谋杀了古尔布兰森，那对柯里来说就再好不过了。但遗憾的是，柯里根本不相信他干了这种事。
道吉特警员呼吸平复下来后开口道：“我照你吩咐的那样摇了一下窗帘，还数了三十下，发现窗帘上边掉了一个钩子，就是说那儿有一个缝，从外面可以看进来。”
柯里警督问亚历克斯：“你昨晚发现屋里透出亮光了吗？”
“因为有雾，我根本看不见房子，我和你说过了。”
“雾是一团一团的，之间会透亮啊。”
“当时房子完全被雾笼罩，运动馆倒是时隐时现，看上去就像码头上的货运仓库一样。
我说过，我的芭蕾舞剧《石灰房》就要上演了——”
“这个你告诉过我了。”柯里警督表示认可。
“我习惯了从舞台设计的角度来观察事物，而不是从现实角度出发。”
“但舞台也可能是真实的，不是吗，雷斯塔里克先生？”
“警督，我不太明白你的意思。”
“它也是由一些真实的材料组成的——布景、道具、颜料、纸板。幻觉存在于观众眼中而不是造型本身。它足够真实，幕前幕后同样真实。”
亚历克斯吃惊地看着他。
“警督，这番话太精辟了。我受到了启发。”
“又想到一出芭蕾舞剧了吗？”
“不是什么芭蕾舞剧……老天，我们是不是都傻了？”
III
警督和道吉特穿过草坪回屋了。（亚历克斯以为他们在找脚印，但他错了。那天一大早警方就检查了脚印，但没什么结果，凌晨两点下了一场大雨。）亚历克斯沿着车道慢慢朝前走，考虑着新想法的可能性。
这时他的注意力被吉娜吸引住了，她正在湖边小路上散步。房子居高临下，车道从房子边的高处起始，渐渐降到湖边。湖边盛开着杜鹃花，还有许多灌木丛。亚历克斯走下坡，找到了吉娜。
“如果能把那幢难看的维多利亚式建筑遮起来，”他眯起眼说，“再加上你，就成了《天鹅湖》了。吉娜，你就是天鹅仙子。不过我认为你更像白雪公主。你任性，没有同情心，没有热情，非常无情。但亲爱的吉娜，你特别有女人味。”
“你太坏了，亲爱的亚历克斯！”
“因为我拒绝上你的当吗？你对自己很满意，不是吗，吉娜？你对我们招之即来挥之即去。我，斯蒂芬，还有你那个四肢发达、头脑简单的丈夫。”
“瞎说。”
“不，我没瞎说。斯蒂芬爱你，我也爱你，沃利为此而痛苦万分。一个女人还能要求什么呢？”
吉娜看着他笑了。
亚历克斯用力地点着头。
“我很高兴你还有几分诚实，那是因为你身上有几分拉丁裔血统。你没费心去伪装自己不吸引男人——如果他们被你征服，你并没表现得十分内疚。你喜欢让男人爱你，对吗，残酷的吉娜？连可怜的小埃德加•劳森也被你吸引了！”
吉娜平静地看着他，她很严肃地说：“这种情况不会持续太久的。女人在这个世界上生活要比男人艰难得多。她们容易受到伤害。她们有孩子，十分关心孩子。一旦红颜不复，她们所钟爱的男人便不再爱她们，会背弃她们、抛下她们、不再理她们。我不责怪男人，换了我也一样。我不喜欢老人、长得丑的人、病人和整天自怜的人，也不喜欢像埃德加那样荒唐可笑的人——他们四处乱闯，装出一副自命不凡的样子。你说我残酷？这个世界本身就很残酷！而且它迟早会对我残酷！不过我现在还年轻漂亮，大家觉得我很美丽。”她露出独特的灿烂笑容，整齐的牙齿很好看，“对，我喜欢这样，亚历克斯，干吗不呢？”
“这究竟是为什么？”亚历克斯说，“我想弄明白你到底要怎样。你要和斯蒂芬结婚还是会嫁给我？”
“我已经和沃利结了婚。”
“那只是暂时的。在婚姻上每个女人都可以犯错——但没必要沉溺于此不能自拔。这出剧在别处已经上演过了，现在该轮到在西区上演了。”
“你是西区人吗？”
“毫无疑问。”
“你要和我结婚吗？无法想象你也会结婚。”
“我一定要结婚。婚外情在我看来太过时了。用护照有麻烦，不是夫妻住旅馆也不方便。我想通过正当途径结婚，永远不要什么情妇！”
吉娜清脆地笑了起来。
“亚历克斯，你太有趣了。”
“风趣是我的资本。斯蒂芬比我好看，他英俊，热情，深得女人欢心。但在家里太热情了反而会令人疲倦。吉娜，和我一起你会觉得生活妙趣横生。”
“你不说你疯狂地爱着我吗？”
“即便那是真的，我也不会直说。如果那么做就抬高了你、降低了我。我准备做的一切就是像做生意一样给你提个方案。”
“我得想一想。”吉娜笑着说。
“这是自然。你首先得让沃利摆脱痛苦。我很同情他。对他而言，和你结婚，再被你任性地带进这个慈善之家简直太痛苦了。”
“亚历克斯，你太坏了！”
“一个明事理的坏人。”
吉娜说：“有时候我觉得沃利一点也不关心我，他的眼中早就没了我。”
“用棍子敲都没反应吗？让你十分恼火的正是这一点。”
吉娜飞快抬起手掌，在亚历克斯光滑的脸颊上打了一记响亮的耳光。
“哎哟！”亚历克斯叫了一声。
他老练地把吉娜抱到怀里，她没有来得及抵抗，他的双唇就紧贴在了她的唇上。一个漫长而热烈的吻。一开始她还挣扎了一下，后来便放松下来……“吉娜！”有人在大喊。
他们迅速分开。是米尔德里德•斯垂特，她脸色发红，嘴唇发抖，双眼直直地盯着他们，显得十分生气。她急切地想说什么，却说不出来。
“恶心……太恶心了……你这个没人要的坏丫头……你跟你妈一样……太下贱了……我早就知道你很下贱……一点儿羞耻感也没有……不只是个贱人还是个凶手。我知道，你就是那个凶手。”
“你知道什么？别那么疯狂，米尔德里德姨妈。”
“谢天谢地，我才不是你姨妈呢，我和你一点血缘关系都没有。算了，反正你也不知道你妈是什么人，她从哪儿来！但我很清楚我父母是什么样的人，他们会收养什么样的孩子！他们会收养罪犯的孩子或妓女的私生子！他们就是那样的人。他们早该记住坏人本性难移。你身上的意大利人血统让你精通毒药。”
“你怎么能对我说这种话？！”
“想说什么我就说什么，你没法否认，对吗？有人企图给我母亲下毒！谁最有可能干这种事？她去世后谁会发一大笔财？是你，吉娜，你放心，警察不会忽略这个的。”
米尔德里德迅速转过身，离开时气得浑身发抖。
“病态，”亚历克斯说，“绝对的病态。太可笑了。我真想知道那个斯垂特教士究竟是怎么回事，信教的人只会找这种女人吗？还是说他完全没有男子气概？”
“亚历克斯，别恶心人了。我恨她，恨她，我恨死她了。”
吉娜握着拳头，愤怒地挥动着。
“幸亏你手边没有刀，”亚历克斯说，“不然的话，亲爱的斯垂特夫人将从被害人的角度知道什么叫谋杀了。镇静些，吉娜，别像意大利歌剧那么戏剧化。”
“她竟敢说我要毒死外婆？”
“亲爱的，的确有人企图毒死她。从动机上来看，你的嫌疑很大，不是吗？”
“亚历克斯！”吉娜吃惊地盯着他，“警察们也这么看吗？”
“很难说他们怎么想。他们一点信息都不透露，他们可不是傻子。这倒让我想起……”
“你要去哪儿？”
“去想个点子出来！”
Chapter Seventeen
Seventeen
1“Y ou say somebody has been trying to poison me?”
Carrie Louise’s voice held bewilderment and disbelief.
“You know,” she said, “I can’t really believe it….”
She waited a few moments, her eyes half closed.
Lewis said gently, “I wish I could have spared you this, dearest.”
Almost absently she stretched out a hand to him and he took it.
Miss Marple, sitting close by, shook her head sympathetically.
Carrie Louise opened her eyes.
“Is it really true, Jane?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so, my dear.”
“Then everything—” Carrie Louise broke off.
She went on:
“I’ve always thought I knew what was real and what wasn’t …This doesn’t seem real—but it is … so I may bewrong everywhere … but who could want to do such a thing to me? Nobody in this house could want to—kill me?”
Her voice still held incredulity.
“That’s what I would have thought,” said Lewis. “I was wrong.”
“And Christian knew about it? That explains it.”
“Explains what?” asked Lewis.
“His manner,” said Carrie Louise. “It was very odd, you know. Not at all his usual self. He seemed—upset aboutme—and as though he was wanting to say something to me—and then not saying it. And he asked me if my heart wasstrong. And if I’d been well lately. Trying to hint to me, perhaps. But why not say something straight out? It’s so muchsimpler just to say straight out.”
“He didn’t want to—cause you pain, Caroline.”
“Pain? But why—Oh I see …” Her eyes widened. “So that’s what you believe. But you’re wrong, Lewis, quitewrong. I can assure you of that.”
Her husband avoided her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Serrocold after a moment or two. “But I can’t believe anything of what has happened latelyis true. Edgar shooting at you. Gina and Stephen. That ridiculous box of chocolates. It just isn’t true.”
Nobody spoke.
Caroline Louise Serrocold sighed.
“I suppose,” she said, “that I must have lived outside reality for a long time … Please, both of you, I think I wouldlike to be alone … I’ve got to try and understand….”
2Miss Marple came down the stairs and into the Great Hall to find Alex Restarick standing near the large, archedentrance door with his hand flung out in a somewhat flamboyant gesture.
“Come in, come in,” said Alex happily and as though he were the owner of the Great Hall. “I’m just thinking aboutlast night.”
Lewis Serrocold, who had followed Miss Marple down from Carrie Louise’s sitting room, crossed the Great Hall tohis study and went in and shut the door.
“Are you trying to reconstruct the crime?” asked Miss Marple with subdued eagerness.
“Eh?” Alex looked at her with a frown. Then his brow cleared.
“Oh, that,” he said. “No, not exactly. I was looking at the whole thing from an entirely different point of view. Iwas thinking of this place in the terms of the theatre. Not reality, but artificiality! Just come over here. Think of it inthe terms of a stage set. Lighting, entrances, exits. Dramatis Personae. Noises off. All very interesting. Not all my ownidea. The Inspector gave it to me. I think he’s rather a cruel man. He did his best to frighten me this morning.”
“And did he frighten you?”
“I’m not sure.”
Alex described the Inspector’s experiment and the timing of the performance of the puffing Constable Dodgett.
“Time,” he said, “is so very misleading. One thinks things take such a long time, but really, of course, they don’t.”
“No,” said Miss Marple.
Representing the audience, she moved to a different position. The stage set now consisted of a vast, tapestry-covered wall going up to dimness, with a grand piano up L. and a window and window seat up R. Very near thewindow seat was the door into the library. The piano stool was only about eight feet from the door into the squarelobby, which led to the corridor. Two very convenient exits! The audience, of course, had an excellent view of both ofthem….
But last night there had been no audience. Nobody, that is to say, had been facing the stage set that Miss Marplewas now facing. The audience, last night, had been sitting with their backs to that particular stage.
How long, Miss Marple wondered, would it have taken to slip out of the room, run along the corridor, shootGulbrandsen and come back? Not nearly so long as one would think. Measured in minutes and seconds, a very shorttime indeed….
What had Carrie Louise meant when she had said to her husband: “So that’s what you believe—but you’re wrong,Lewis!”
“I must say that that was a very penetrating remark of the Inspector’s,” Alex’s voice cut in on her meditations.
“About a stage set being real. Made of wood and cardboard and stuck together with glue and as real on the unpaintedas on the painted side. ‘The illusion,’ he pointed out, ‘is in the eyes of the audience.’”
“Like conjurers,” Miss Marple murmured vaguely. “They do it with mirrors is, I believe, the slang phrase.”
Stephen Restarick came in, slightly out of breath.
“Hullo, Alex,” he said. “That little rat, Ernie Gregg—I don’t know if you remember him?”
“The one who played Feste when you did Twelfth Night? Quite a bit of talent there I thought.”
“Yes, he’s got talent of a sort. Very good with his hands, too. Does a lot of our carpentry. However, that’s neitherhere nor there. He’s been boasting to Gina that he gets out at night and wanders about the grounds. Says he waswandering round last night and boasts he saw something.”
Alex spun round.
“Saw what?”
“Says he’s not going to tell! Actually, I’m pretty certain he’s only trying to show off and get into the limelight.
He’s an awful liar, but I thought perhaps he ought to be questioned.”
Alex said sharply, “I should leave him for a bit. Don’t let him think we’re too interested.”
“Perhaps—yes I think you may be right there. This evening, perhaps.”
Stephen went on into the library.
Miss Marple, moving gently round the Hall in her character of mobile audience, collided with Alex Restarick as hestepped back suddenly.
Miss Marple said, “I’m so sorry.”
Alex frowned at her, said in an absent sort of way,“I beg your pardon,” and then added in a surprised voice, “Oh, it’s you.”
It seemed to Miss Marple an odd remark for someone with whom she had been conversing for some considerabletime.
“I was thinking of something else,” said Alex Restarick. “That boy Ernie—” He made vague motions with bothhands.
Then, with a sudden change of manner, he crossed the Hall and went through the library door shutting it behindhim.
The murmur of voices came from behind the closed door, but Miss Marple hardly noticed them. She wasuninterested in the versatile Ernie and what he had seen or pretended to see. She had a shrewd suspicion that Ernie hadseen nothing at all. She did not believe for a moment that on a cold raw foggy night like last night, Ernie would havetroubled to use his picklocking activities and wander about in the park. In all probability, he never had got out at night.
Boasting, that was all it had been.
“Like Johnnie Backhouse,” thought Miss Marple who always had a good storehouse of parallels to draw upon,selected from inhabitants of St. Mary Mead.
“I seen you last night,” had been Johnnie Backhouse’s unpleasant taunt to all he thought it might affect.
It had been a surprisingly successful remark. So many people, Miss Marple reflected, have been in places wherethey are anxious not to be seen!
She dismissed Johnnie from her mind and concentrated on a vague something which Alex’s account of InspectorCurry’s remarks had stirred to life. Those remarks had given Alex an idea. She was not sure that they had not givenher an idea, too. The same idea? Or a different one?
She stood where Alex Restarick had stood. She thought to herself, “This is not a real hall. This is only cardboardand canvas and wood. This is a stage scene….” Scrappy phrases flashed across her mind. “Illusion—” “In the eyes ofthe audience.” “They do it with mirrors….” Bowls of goldfish … yards of coloured ribbon … vanishing ladies … Allthe panoply and misdirection of the conjurer’s art….
Something stirred in her consciousness—a picture—something that Alex had said … something that he haddescribed to her … Constable Dodgett puffing and panting … panting … something shifted in her mind—came intosudden focus….
“Why of course!” said Miss Marple. “That must be it….”
第十七章
I“你说有人企图毒死我？”
卡莉•路易丝的声音里充满了不信任，她说：“我真不敢相信……”
过了片刻，她微微闭上双眼。
刘易斯轻轻地说：“亲爱的，我真希望你不知道这些。”
她几乎是下意识地把手伸给他，刘易斯握住了那只手。
马普尔小姐坐在一边，同情地摇了摇头。
卡莉•路易丝睁开双眼。
“简，真是这样的吗？”她问。
“亲爱的，是这样没错。”
“这么说，后来发生的一切……”卡莉•路易丝说到一半停了下来。然后她又接着说：“我一直以为自己知道什么是真什么是假，看来是我错了，只是……也许我犯了许多错，但谁会这么对我呢？这个家里没人要杀我吧？”她的口气还是半信半疑。
“我也这么想，”刘易斯说，“但我错了。”
“克里斯蒂安知道这件事吗？这就解释得通了。”
“怎么解释得通了？”刘易斯问。
“我是指他的神色，”卡莉•路易丝说，“他的神色很奇怪，和往常不大一样。看上去像是在生我的气——又好像要跟我说什么，却又没说。他问我最近心脏好吗？身体还可以吗？
也许就是在向我暗示。但为什么不直接说呢？说白了不就简单了吗？”
“卡罗琳，他不想给你带来痛苦。”
“痛苦？为什么——哦，我明白了……”她瞪大双眼，“原来你是这么想的。可是你错了，刘易斯，你错了，这一点我很确定。”
她丈夫避开了她的目光。
“对不起，”片刻后塞罗科尔德夫人说，“我真无法相信最近发生的一切。埃德加朝你开枪；吉娜和斯蒂芬；那盒荒唐的巧克力……这些都不可能是真的。”
没人发表评论。
卡罗琳•路易丝•塞罗科尔德叹了一口气，她说：“我一定游离于生活之外太久了……求求你们，让我独自待一会儿……让我好好想一想……”
II
马普尔小姐沿楼梯下来走进大厅。亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克站在拱门门口伸出双手，一副很夸张的样子。
“请进，请进，”亚历克斯像是这里的主人一样迎接她，“我正在想昨晚的事。”
刘易斯•塞罗科尔德跟着马普尔小姐从卡莉•路易丝的卧室出来，穿过大厅走进书房，并关上了门。
“你在重建凶案现场吗？”马普尔小姐没好气地问。
亚历克斯皱着眉看她，随即眉头又舒展开了。
“重建凶案现场？”他说，“不完全是。我正在从一个完全不同的角度看待这件事。我把这里看成一个剧院，人工剧院！请你把这里想象成一处舞台布景。灯光，入口，出口，人物登场，四下安静。这多有趣！不全是我的主意，警督给了我提示。我觉得他很凶，他今天早上使出全力恐吓我。”
“他恐吓你了？”
“我不确定。”
亚历克斯讲了一遍警督的试验，以及气喘吁吁的道吉特警员进行的实地计时。
“时间有时候会误导人，”他说，“人们以为有些事要花费很长时间，但其实完全不用。”
“没错。”马普尔小姐说。
作为观众她换了个位置。舞台背景由一面覆盖着巨大挂毯的墙充当，上部有些暗，左边是架钢琴，右边是窗户及一把椅子，椅子紧挨着书房的门。钢琴坐凳离通往外面走廊的门只有八英尺。两个方便出口！观众都可以清楚地看见它们……可是昨晚没观众。也就是说，没人在马普尔小姐站着的地方。昨晚的观众都背对着舞台。
马普尔小姐很想知道溜出大厅、沿着走廊跑、打死古尔布兰森再返回需要多长时间。
不会像人们想象的那么长，应该很快就能完事……
卡莉•路易丝刚才说了句意味深长的话——原来你是这么看的。可是你错了，刘易斯，你错了。
“警督的一席话令我印象深刻，”亚历克斯的话打断了她的思考，“他说舞台背景是真实的。用木块、纸板和胶水粘起来，使颜料画过的一面和没画过的一面都像是真的。他说‘幻觉只存在于观众的脑子里’。”
“和变戏法的人一样，”马普尔小姐低声说，“他们常说‘用镜子使诈’这种行话。”
这时斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克走了进来，稍微有些气喘。
“亚历克斯，”他说，“你还记不记得厄尼•格雷格那个小东西？”
“是不是在你导演的《第十二夜》里扮演弗斯特的？他在那出戏里表现出不少天分。”
“是的，他是有些天分。他的手很巧，帮我们干了不少木工活儿，但他的本性很难改掉。他对吉娜吹牛说他昨晚出去四处走动时似乎看见了什么。”
亚历克斯迅速转过身。
“他看见了什么？”
“他不愿告诉别人。我敢肯定他只是想炫耀炫耀以引起别人的关注。他是个小骗子，不过我觉得也许可以审问他一下。”
亚历克斯厉声道：“让他自己待着，别去理他，别让他以为我们对这件事感兴趣。”
“对，你说得在理，晚上再说吧。”
斯蒂芬走进书房。马普尔小姐像个观众似的在大厅里走动，不留神撞上了亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克，他突然往后退了一步。
马普尔小姐说：“太对不起了。”
亚历克斯朝她皱了皱眉，心不在焉地说：“没关系，”然后又略带惊讶地说，“怎么是你啊？”
马普尔小姐觉得他的话很怪，她已经和亚历克斯聊了那么长时间，他现在却这么说。
“我在想别的事，”亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克说，“那个厄尼的事——”他挥着两只手，不知在比划什么。接着他神色突变，穿过大厅走进书房，用力地把门甩上。
紧闭的门后传来低语声，但马普尔小姐听不见他们在说什么。她对全能的厄尼并不怎么感兴趣，也不关心他看见了什么或假装看见了什么。她怀疑厄尼什么也没看见，她不相信在昨晚那样一个寒冷多雾的晚上，厄尼会费心使用撬锁的本领在停车场上游荡。他不可能出门。
只是在吹牛罢了。
和约翰•贝克豪斯一样，马普尔小姐想。她有很多从圣玛丽米德村村民那儿收集来的故事可以与眼前发生的事做对比。
“昨晚我看见你了。”只要约翰•贝克豪斯认为这句话能刺激到谁，他准会对那人这么说。
但这句话十分奏效。回想起来，有那么多人去了他们想隐瞒自己去过的地方，真令人惊讶不已！
她撇开约翰，集中精力思考着亚历克斯复述柯里警督的话时自己隐约产生的一个念头。那些话让亚历克斯得到了很大的启发，她不太确定那番话是否对她产生了同样的效果。她的想法和亚历克斯的相同吗？还是想到了别的什么？
她站在亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克刚才站的地方，告诉自己“这不是个真实的大厅，不过是纸板，布景和木块，是一个舞台场景”，这时她的脑海里闪过一些不怎么连贯的话。“让观众产生幻觉——‘他们用镜子干的……’——几盆金鱼……几尺彩带……消失的女人……魔术师变戏法时用的道具，以及遮人耳目的幌子……”
她突然想到了什么——一幅画面——亚历克斯说过的话……他向她描述过的一些事……道吉特警员喘着粗气……喘气……她灵机一动，一下子集中了注意力。
“当然了！”马普尔小姐说，“肯定是这样的，没错……”
Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
1“O h, Wally, how you startled me!”
Gina, emerging from the shadows by the theatre, jumped back a little, as the figure of Wally Hudd materialised outof the gloom. It was not yet quite dark, but had that eerie half light when objects lose their reality and take on thefantastic shapes of nightmare.
“What are you doing down here? You never come near the theatre as a rule.”
“Maybe I was looking for you, Gina. It’s usually the best place to find you, isn’t it?”
Wally’s soft, faintly drawling voice held no special insinuation and yet Gina flinched a little.
“It’s a job and I’m keen on it. I like the atmosphere of paint and canvas, and backstage generally.”
“Yes. It means a lot to you. I’ve seen that. Tell me, Gina, how long do you think it will be before this business is allcleared up?”
“The inquest’s tomorrow. It will just be adjourned for a fortnight or something like that. At least, that’s whatInspector Curry gave us to understand.”
“A fortnight,” said Wally thoughtfully. “I see. Say three weeks, perhaps. And after that—we’re free. I’m goingback to the States then.”
“Oh! but I can’t run off like that,” cried Gina. “I couldn’t leave Grandam. And we’ve got these two newproductions we’re working on”—
“I didn’t say ‘we.’ I said I was going.”
Gina stopped and looked up at her husband. Something in the effect of the shadows made him seem very big. Abig, quiet figure—and in some way, or so it seemed to her, faintly menacing … standing over her. Threatening—what?
“Do you mean”—she hesitated—“you don’t want me to come?”
“Why, no—I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t care if I come or not? Is that it?”
She was suddenly angry.
“See here, Gina. This is where we’ve got to have a showdown. We didn’t know much about each other when wemarried—not much about each other’s backgrounds, not much about the other one’s folks. We thought it didn’tmatter. We thought nothing mattered except having a swell time together. Well, stage one is over. Your folks didn’t—and don’t—think much of me. Maybe they’re right. I’m not their kind. But if you think I’m staying on here, kickingmy heels, and doing odd jobs in what I consider is just a crazy setup—well, think again! I want to live in my owncountry, doing the kind of job I want to do, and can do. My idea of a wife is the kind of wife who used to go alongwith the old pioneers, ready for anything, hardship, unfamiliar country, danger, strange surroundings … Perhaps that’stoo much to ask of you, but it’s that or nothing! Maybe I hustled you into marriage. If so, you’d better get free of meand start again. It’s up to you. If you prefer one of these arty boys—it’s your life and you’ve got to choose. But I’mgoing home.”
“I think you’re an absolute pig,” said Gina. “I’m enjoying myself here.”
“Is that so? Well, I’m not. You even enjoy murder, I suppose?”
Gina drew in her breath sharply.
“That’s a cruel, wicked thing to say. I was very fond of Uncle Christian. And don’t you realise that someone hasbeen quietly poisoning Grandam for months? It’s horrible!”
“I told you I didn’t like it here. I don’t like the kind of things that go on. I’m quitting.”
“If you’re allowed to! Don’t you realise you’ll probably be arrested for Uncle Christian’s murder? I hate the wayInspector Curry looks at you. He’s just like a cat watching a mouse with a nasty sharp-clawed paw all ready to pounce.
Just because you were out of the Hall fixing those lights, and because you’re not English, I’m sure they’ll go fasteningit on you.”
“They’ll need some evidence first.”
Gina wailed:
“I’m frightened for you, Wally. I’ve been frightened all along.”
“No good being scared. I tell you, they’ve got nothing on me!”
They walked in silence towards the house.
Gina said:
“I don’t believe you really want me to come back to America with you….”
Walter Hudd did not answer.
Gina Hudd turned on him and stamped her foot.
“I hate you. I hate you. You are horrible—a beast—a cruel, unfeeling beast. After all I’ve tried to do for you! Youwant to be rid of me. You don’t care if you never see me again. Well, I don’t care if I never see you again! I was astupid little fool ever to marry you, and I shall get a divorce as soon as possible, and I shall marry Stephen or Alexisand be much happier than I ever could be with you. And I hope you go back to the States and marry some horrible girlwho makes you really miserable!”
“Fine!” said Wally. “Now we know where we are!”
2Miss Marple saw Gina and Wally go into the house together.
She was standing at the spot where Inspector Curry had made his experiment with Constable Dodgett earlier in theafternoon.
Miss Bellever’s voice behind her made her jump.
“You’ll get a chill, Miss Marple, standing about like that after the sun’s gone down.”
Miss Marple fell meekly into step with her and they walked briskly through the house.
“I was thinking about conjuring tricks,” said Miss Marple. “So difficult when you’re watching them to see howthey’re done, and yet, once they are explained, so absurdly simple. (Although, even now, I can’t imagine howconjurers produce bowls of goldfish!) Did you ever see the Lady who is Sawn in Half?—such a thrilling trick. Itfascinated me when I was eleven years old, I remember. And I never could think how it was done. But the other daythere was an article in some paper giving the whole thing away. I don’t think a newspaper should do that, do you? Itseems it’s not one girl—but two. The head of the one and the feet of the other. You think it’s one girl and it’s reallytwo—and the other way round would work equally well, wouldn’t it?”
Miss Bellever looked at her with faint surprise. Miss Marple was not often so fluffy and incoherent as this. “It’sbeen too much for the old lady, all this,” she thought.
“When you only look at one side of a thing, you only see one side,” continued Miss Marple. “But everything fits inperfectly well if you can only make up your mind what is reality and what is illusion.” She added abruptly, “Is CarrieLouise—all right?”
“Yes,” said Miss Bellever. “She’s all right. But it must have been a shock, you know—finding out that someonewanted to kill her. I mean particularly a shock to her, because she doesn’t understand violence.”
“Carrie Louise understands some things that we don’t,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “She always has.”
“I know what you mean—but she doesn’t live in the real world.”
“Doesn’t she?”
Miss Bellever looked at her in surprise.
“There never was a more unworldly person than Cara—”
“You don’t think that perhaps—” Miss Marple broke off, as Edgar Lawson passed them, swinging along at a greatpace. He gave a kind of shamefaced nod, but averted his face as he passed.
“I’ve remembered now who he reminds me of,” said Miss Marple. “It came to me suddenly, just a few momentsago. He reminds me of a young man called Leonard Wylie. His father was a dentist, but he got old and blind and hishand used to shake, and so people preferred to go to the son. But the old man was very miserable about it, and moped,said he was no good for anything anymore, and Leonard, who was very softhearted and rather foolish, began topretend he drank more than he should. He always smelt of whisky, and he used to sham being rather fuddled when hispatients came. His idea was that they’d go back to the father again and say the younger man was no good.”
“And did they?”
“Of course not,” said Miss Marple. “What happened was what anybody with any sense could have told him wouldhappen! The patients went to Mr. Reilly, the rival dentist. So many people with good hearts have no sense. Besides,Leonard Wylie was so unconvincing … His idea of drunkenness wasn’t in the least like real drunkenness, and heoverdid the whisky—spilling it on his clothes, you know, to a perfectly impossible extent.”
They went into the house by the side door.
第十八章
I“沃利，你吓了我一大跳！”
吉娜从戏院边的阴影里现身，往后退了一小步，沃利•赫德的身影出现了。天不算太黑，但由于剧院透出的灯光混沌不清，使周围的物体都失去了现实感，像噩梦中的幻影一样。
“你来这儿干吗？你从来都不靠近剧院。”
“吉娜，我在找你，来这里总能找到你，不是吗？”
沃利慢吞吞的话语不带任何特别的暗示意味，却让吉娜后退了一步。
“这是我的工作，我热爱这份工作。我喜欢颜料和布景，我也喜欢后台。”
“是的，这对你意味着很多，我能理解。吉娜，你觉得要过多久这件事才能了结？”
“明天审问结束后，大概还得拖上两个星期。至少柯里警督是这个意思。”
“两周，”沃利沉思着说，“明白了，也许要三周。再往后——我们就自由了。到时候我要回美国。”
“可我不能走得那么急，”吉娜大声说，“我不能离开外婆。另外，我们手头还有两个新剧——”
“我没说‘我们’，我只说我要走。”
吉娜仰视着丈夫，阴影使得沃利显得更加高大。一个很高大的身影——也许对吉娜而言高大得吓人……高出她一头，有股威胁的架势——怎么会这样呢？
“你是说……”她迟疑了一下，“你不打算和我一起回去吗？”
“不，我没那么说。”
“你不在乎我回不回去？”
她突然很生气。
“听着，吉娜，我们得把一切都说开。结婚时我们并不了解对方——不了解对方的家庭背景和……家人。我们认为那不重要，除了在一起很开心之外其他都不重要。但现在第一幕算是结束了。你的家人一直没把我当回事——过去没有，现在也没有。也许他们是对的，我和他们不是一类人。但如果你认为我应该待在这儿，在这里空等，干一些我认为是疯狂的事，那你就错了！我要生活在自己的国家，干自己想干的活儿，能干的活儿。我希望我的妻子和先辈们的妻子一样，能受苦，懂得求生，能生活在陌生的国家，甚至危险的环境中……也许这么要求你太过分了，但我要的就是这个，不然我们就完了！也许和你结婚过于草率了，这样的话，你最好离开我，重新开始，这全看你。如果你更喜欢这里某个附庸风雅的年轻人，那你就选他好了。这是你的生活，你的选择，但我要回家了。”
“我认为你是头蠢猪，”吉娜说，“我在这里过得很开心。”
“是吗？好吧，但我不开心。你是不是觉得谋杀案也很令人开心？”
吉娜猛吸了一口气。
“你这么说可太残忍了，我喜欢克里斯蒂安舅舅。你知不知道，这几个月一直有人暗地里给外婆下毒？这太可怕了！”
“我告诉你我不喜欢这儿，不喜欢这里发生的事。我要走了。”
“恐怕你走不了！你还不知道你可能因为谋杀克里斯蒂安舅舅被捕吗？我讨厌柯里警督看你的那副样子，就像一只前爪锋利的猫，虎视眈眈地盯着一只老鼠。就因为你曾从大厅出去修那些灯，因为你不是英国人，我敢肯定他们会对你采取行动的。”
“他们需要证据。”
吉娜抱怨道：“我都替你感到害怕，沃利。我一直很害怕。”
“不用怕。我告诉你，他们不会把我怎么样的！”
他们沉默地往家走，谁也没说话。
最后吉娜说：“我觉得你不想让我和你一起回美国……”
沃尔特•赫德没有回答。
吉娜•赫德突然发怒，跺起了脚。
“我恨你，我恨你。你太可怕了——是个畜生，一个无情无义的畜生。我为你做了那么多！你却要甩掉我！你不在乎是不是？永远见不到我你也不在乎是吗？好吧。我也不在乎是不是永远见不到你！跟你结婚我真是个傻瓜，我要尽快离婚，再和斯蒂芬或亚历克斯结婚，会比和你在一起时更幸福。希望你回美国和一个糟糕的女孩结婚，让她把你变得十分痛苦！”
“好吧！”沃利说，“现在我们算了解彼此了！”
II
马普尔小姐站在下午早些时候柯里警督与道吉特警员做实验的地方，看见吉娜和沃利一起走进屋里。
贝莱弗小姐在她身后说了一句话，吓了她一跳。
“你会着凉的，马普尔小姐，太阳落山了你还在这儿。”
马普尔小姐顺从地和她一道回去，脚步轻快地走进屋里。
“我正在想魔术技巧，”马普尔小姐说，“要识破他们的招数太难了，但一经解释又感觉非常简单——尽管直到现在我也弄不明白他们是怎么变出几盆金鱼的！你见过被锯成两半的女郎吧，那个戏法太刺激了。十一岁时我对它着了迷，但总也想不通那是怎么回事。后来有一天，报纸上刊登了一篇文章，把戏法的内情全讲了出来。我觉得报纸不该那么做，不是吗？其实不是一个姑娘而是两个，一个人的头和另一个人的脚。反过来也一样——你以为是一个人时它又成了两个人，正反都通用，对吧？”
贝莱弗小姐略显吃惊地看着她。
马普尔小姐很少像现在这样语无伦次。这个老太太一定被最近发生的事弄糊涂了，贝莱弗小姐琢磨着。
“当你观察事情的一面时，就只会注意其中的一部分，”马普尔小姐继续说着，“但如果能分清现实和幻觉，一切就都明了了。”她又补充了一句，“卡莉•路易丝还好吗？”
“还好，”贝莱弗小姐说，“她很好，只是受了些惊吓——发现有人要谋害自己，这也在所难免。尤其对她来说，这太令人难以置信了。她根本不懂什么是暴力。”
“但卡莉•路易丝懂得一些我们弄不明白的事情。”马普尔小姐沉思着说，“她就是那种人。”
“我明白你的意思——她并不生活在这个世界里。”
“她真的是个不食人间烟火的人吗？”
贝莱弗小姐吃惊地看着马普尔小姐。
“没有人比卡拉更不精世故的了。”
“你这么想也许是因为……”马普尔小姐停了下来，因为埃德加•劳森从她们身边闪过，踏着大步走了过去。他朝她们俩羞怯地点了点头，又迅速把脸转过去。
“我现在想起他像哪个人了，”马普尔小姐说，“我刚才突然意识到了这一点，他让我想起一个叫伦纳德•威利的年轻人。他父亲是个牙医，可是这位父亲年纪大了，眼睛也不中用了，手还总是发抖，因此人们喜欢去找他儿子看牙。老人因此变得闷闷不乐，说自己老了，不中用了。伦纳德心肠很软，便开始假装酗酒，总是一身威士忌味。有病人时他就装醉，他以为这样一来人们就会认为年轻人不怎么样，会再回去找他父亲。”
“是这样的吗？”
“当然不是了。”马普尔小姐说，“任何明事理的人都该告诉他人们会怎么做，但没人告诉他！病人们转而去找雷利先生——他们的竞争对手。好心肠的人并不总是明白事理。另外，伦纳德•威利装得太假了，根本不像真喝醉的样子——往衣服上洒的威士忌太多，一看就是装的。”
二人从侧门走进了屋。
Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
I nside the house, they found the family assembled in the library. Lewis was walking up and down, and there was anair of general tension in the atmosphere.
“Is anything the matter?” asked Miss Bellever.
Lewis said shortly, “Ernie Gregg is missing from roll call tonight.”
“Has he run away?”
“We don’t know. Maverick and some of the staff are searching the grounds. If we cannot find him we mustcommunicate with the police.”
“Grandam!” Gina ran over to Carrie Louise, startled by the whiteness of her face. “You look ill.”
“I am unhappy. The poor boy….”
Lewis said, “I was going to question him this evening as to whether he had seen anything noteworthy last night. Ihave the offer of a good post for him and I thought that after discussing that, I would bring up the other topic. Now—”
he broke off.
Miss Marple murmured softly:
“Foolish boy … poor, foolish boy….”
She shook her head, and Mrs. Serrocold said gently:
“So you think so too, Jane …?”
Stephen Restarick came in. He said, “I missed you at the theatre, Gina. I thought you said you would—Hullo,what’s up?”
Lewis repeated his information, and as he finished speaking, Dr. Maverick came in with a fair-haired boy with pinkcheeks and a suspiciously angelic expression. Miss Marple remembered his being at dinner on the night she hadarrived at Stonygates.
“I’ve brought Arthur Jenkins along,” said Dr. Maverick. “He seems to have been the last person to talk to Ernie.”
“Now, Arthur,” said Lewis Serrocold, “please help us if you can. Where has Ernie gone? Is this just a prank?”
“I dunno, sir. Straight, I don’t. Didn’t say nothing to me, he didn’t. All full of the play at the theatre he was, that’sall. Said as how he’d had a smashing idea for the scenery, what Mrs. Hudd and Mr. Stephen thought was first class.”
“There’s another thing, Arthur. Ernie claims he was prowling about the grounds after lockup last night. Was thattrue?”
“’Course it ain’t. Just boasting, that’s all. Perishing liar, Ernie. He never got out at night. Used to boast he could,but he wasn’t that good with locks! He couldn’t do anything with a lock as was a lock. Anyway ’e was in larst night,that I do know.”
“You’re not saying that just to satisfy us, Arthur?”
“Cross my heart,” said Arthur virtuously.
Lewis did not look quite satisfied.
“Listen,” said Dr. Maverick. “What’s that?”
A murmur of voices was approaching. The door was flung open and, looking very pale and ill, the spectacled Mr.
Birnbaum staggered in.
He gasped out, “We’ve found him—them. It’s horrible….”
He sank down on a chair and mopped his forehead.
Mildred Strete said sharply:
“What do you mean—found them?”
Birnbaum was shaking all over.
“Down at the theatre,” he said. “Their heads crushed in—the big counterweight must have fallen on them. AlexisRestarick and that boy Ernie Gregg. They’re both dead….”
第十九章
走进屋里，她们发现一家人都聚在书房。刘易斯来回踱着步，空气里有一股紧张的气氛。
“怎么了？”贝莱弗小姐问。
刘易斯生气地说：“今天晚点名时发现厄尼•格雷格不见了。”
“他跑了吗？”
“不知道。马弗里克和一些员工正在四下寻找。如果找不到，我们就得与警察联系。”
“外婆！”吉娜跑到卡莉•路易丝身边，被外婆苍白的脸色吓了一跳，“你看上去生病了。”
“我很伤心。可怜的孩子……”
刘易斯说：“傍晚时我想问他昨晚看见的重要线索，另外还有个好工作想介绍他去，我本想说完昨晚的事后再和他讨论这个话题，但现在……”他停了下来。
马普尔小姐小声地说：“傻孩子，可怜的傻孩子……”她摇了摇头。
塞罗科尔德夫人轻声问：“简，你也这么看吗？”
这时斯蒂芬•雷斯塔里克走进来，说：“吉娜，我没在剧院找到你，我记得你说——嘿，这是怎么了？”
刘易斯把刚才的话又说了一遍，刚说完，马弗里克大夫就带进来一个黄头发的年轻人。他两颊红润，一副天使般的样子，表情却显得很多疑。马普尔小姐记得刚来石门山庄那晚他来吃过晚饭。
“我把阿瑟•詹金斯带来了，他似乎是最后一个同厄尼说过话的人。”马弗里克大夫说。
“阿瑟，”刘易斯•塞罗科尔德说，“请帮帮我们。厄尼去哪儿了？这是不是什么恶作剧？”
“先生，我不知道。真的，我不知道。他什么也没和我说，什么也没说。他一天到晚泡在剧场里，就这些。他说他有一个关于布景的绝妙想法，赫德夫人和斯蒂芬先生会认为非常棒的想法。”
“还有一件事，阿瑟，厄尼说昨晚锁门之后他出去四处转了转，是吗？”
“当然不是，他不过是在吹牛，就这样。厄尼是个讨厌的骗子。他昨晚没出去，他总是这么吹牛，他开锁的本领并没有那么高！他根本不能把已经锁上的锁怎么样！不管怎么说，这一点我敢肯定，厄尼昨晚没出去过。”
“你这么说该不会只是想让我们满意吧，阿瑟？”
“我敢在胸口画十字发誓。”阿瑟认真地说。
但刘易斯显得并不满意。
“听，”马弗里克大夫说，“那是什么声音？”
一阵低语声由远及近，接着门被推开，鲍姆加登先生戴着眼镜踉踉跄跄地走了进来，他看上去脸色苍白，像生病了。
他气喘吁吁地说：“我们找到他了——他们……太可怕了……”
他跌坐在椅子里，用手擦着额头。
米尔德里德•斯垂特尖声道：“你什么意思——发现了他们？”
鲍姆加登浑身发抖。
“在剧院那边，”他说，“他们的头被撞碎了，一定是那个巨大的秤锤砸中了他们俩。亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克和那个孩子厄尼•格雷格，他们都死了……”
Chapter Twenty
Twenty
“I ’ve brought you a cup of strong soup, Carrie Louise,” said Miss Marple. “Now please drink it.”
Mrs. Serrocold sat up in the big carved oak four poster bed. She looked very small and childlike. Her cheeks hadlost their rose pink flush, and her eyes had a curiously absent look. She took the soup obediently from Miss Marple. Asshe sipped it, Miss Marple sat down in a chair beside the bed.
“First, Christian,” said Carrie Louise, “and now Alex—and poor, sharp, silly little Ernie. Did he really—knowanything?”
“I don’t think so,” said Miss Marple. “He was just telling lies—making himself important by hinting that he hadseen or knew something. The tragedy is that somebody believed his lies….”
Carrie Louise shivered. Her eyes went back to their faraway look.
“We meant to do so much for these boys … we did do something. Some of them have done wonderfully well.
Several of them are in really responsible positions. A few slid back—that can’t be helped. Modern civilised conditionsare so complex—too complex for some simple and undeveloped natures. You know Lewis’ great scheme? He alwaysfelt that transportation was a thing that had saved many a potential criminal in the past. They were shipped overseas—and they made new lives in simpler surroundings. He wants to start a modern scheme on that basis. To buy up a greattract of territory—or a group of islands. Finance it for some years, make it a cooperative self-supporting community—with everyone having a stake in it. But cut off so that the early temptation to go back to cities and the bad old ways canbe neutralised. It’s his dream. But it will take a lot of money, of course, and there aren’t many philanthropists withvision now. We want another Eric. Eric would have been enthusiastic.”
Miss Marple picked up a little pair of scissors and looked at them curiously.
“What an odd pair of scissors,” she said. “They’ve got two finger holes on one side and one on the other.”
Carrie Louise’s eyes came back from that frightening far distance.
“Alex gave them to me this morning,” she said. “They’re supposed to make it easier to cut your right-hand nails.
Dear boy, he was so enthusiastic. He made me try them then and there.”
“And I suppose he gathered up the nail clippings and took them tidily away,” said Miss Marple.
“Yes,” said Carrie Louise. “He—” she broke off. “Why did you say that?”
“I was thinking about Alex. He had brains. Yes, he had brains.”
“You mean—that’s why he died?”
“I think so—yes.”
“He and Ernie—it doesn’t bear thinking about. When do they think it happened?”
“Late this evening. Between six and seven o’clock probably….”
“After they’d knocked off work for the day?”
“Yes.”
Gina had been down there that evening—and Wally Hudd. Stephen, too, said he had been down to look for Gina….
But as far as that went, anybody could have—Miss Marple’s train of thought was interrupted.
Carrie Louise said quietly and unexpectedly:
“How much do you know, Jane?”
Miss Marple looked up sharply. The eyes of the two women met.
Miss Marple said slowly, “If I was quite sure….”
“I think you are sure, Jane.”
Jane Marple said slowly, “What do you want me to do?”
Carrie leaned back against her pillows.
“It is in your hands, Jane. You’ll do what you think right.”
She closed her eyes.
“Tomorrow”—Miss Marple hesitated—“I shall have to try and talk to Inspector Curry—if he’ll listen….”
第二十章
“我给你端了一杯浓汤，卡莉•路易丝，”马普尔小姐说，“现在，请把它喝了。”
塞罗科尔德夫人坐在那张橡木雕成的四条腿的大床上，瘦小得像个孩子。她的两颊已失去了往日的红润，眼神空洞，显得心不在焉。
她顺从地从马普尔小姐手里接过汤碗，小口尝了尝。马普尔小姐坐在她的床边。
“先是克里斯蒂安，”卡莉•路易丝说，“现在又是亚历克斯和可怜的傻孩子厄尼，他很机灵，他真的知道些什么吗？”
“我认为他不知道，”马普尔小姐说，“他不过是撒了个谎，暗示自己看见或知道些什么，使自己显得很了不起。可悲的是，有人相信了他的谎话……”
卡莉•路易丝打了个冷战，眼光又变得缥缈遥远。
“我们那时想为这些孩子做许多事……也的确做了一些。有些人干得特别好，几个孩子担任了重要职位；但也有几个退步了，这可以补救。现代文明社会如此复杂，以至于一些头脑不那么发达的人无法理解它。你知道刘易斯的伟大计划吧？他一直认为交通不便曾有效地防止许多人变成罪犯。把那些人运送到国外，让他们在更简单的环境里开始新生活。
他打算在这种思想的基础上开始一个现代计划——买一片地或一大群岛屿，资助它几年，使它成为一个能自给自足的合作式社区，让每个人都能参与其中。这个地方要与外界隔离开，防止人们受到诱惑再返回城市，去过之前那种恶劣的生活。这是他的梦想，当然要花很大一笔钱。如今没有几个有远见的慈善家，我们需要另一个埃里克，只有埃里克才会对这种事有热情。”
马普尔小姐拿起一把小剪刀，好奇地看着它。
“这把剪刀真怪，”她说，“一边有两个手指孔，另一边却只有一个。”
卡莉•路易丝将目光从令人生畏的远方收了回来。
“亚历克斯今天早上给我的，”她说，“用这种设计的剪刀剪右手的指甲时会更容易一些。可爱的孩子，他很热情，还让我试了试。”
“我猜他把剪下的指甲收好，带走了。”马普尔小姐说。
“对，”卡莉•路易丝说，“他……”她停了下来，“你为什么提这个？”
“我在想亚历克斯，他很有头脑，是的，他很有头脑。”
“你是说，这就是他被人杀了的原因？”
“我想是这样的……对。”
“他和厄尼……真不敢想象。是什么时候发生的？”
“今天傍晚晚些时候，大概是六点到七点之间……”
“那就是他们今天下班后了？”
“是的。”
“吉娜晚上也在那儿——还有沃利•赫德。斯蒂芬说他去找吉娜……”
从这方面来看，谁都有可能，马普尔小姐的思绪又被打断了。
卡莉•路易丝出人意料地平静，她说：“你知道多少，简？”
马普尔小姐敏锐地抬起头看着她，两个女人的目光相交。
马普尔小姐慢慢地说：“如果我能确定……”
“我想你能确定，简。”
简•马普尔慢慢地说：“那你希望我怎么办呢？”
卡莉靠在枕头上。
“你看着办吧，简，你认为该怎么办就怎么办吧。”她闭上了双眼。
“明天，”马普尔小姐迟疑了一下，“我不得不去和柯里警督谈谈，如果他肯听……”
Chapter Twenty-one
Twenty-one
I nspector Curry said rather impatiently:
“Yes, Miss Marple?”
“Could we, do you think, go into the Great Hall?”
Inspector Curry looked faintly surprised.
“Is that your idea of privacy? Surely in here—”
He looked round the study.
“It’s not privacy I’m thinking of so much. It’s something I want to show you. Something Alex Restarick made mesee.”
Inspector Curry, stifling a sigh, got up and followed Miss Marple.
“Somebody has been talking to you?” he suggested hopefully.
“No,” said Miss Marple. “It’s not a question of what people have said. It’s really a question of conjuring tricks.
They do it with mirrors, you know—that sort of thing—if you understand me.”
Inspector Curry did not understand. He stared and wondered if Miss Marple was quite right in the head.
Miss Marple took up her stand and beckoned the Inspector to stand beside her.
“I want you to think of this place as a stage set, Inspector. As it was on the night Christian Gulbrandsen was killed.
You’re here in the audience looking at the people on the stage. Mrs. Serrocold and myself and Mrs. Strete and Ginaand Stephen—and just like on the stage, there are entrances and exits and the characters go out to different places.
Only you don’t think when you’re in the audience where they are really going to. They go out ‘to the front door’ or ‘tothe kitchen’ and when the door opens you see a little bit of painted backcloth. But really of course they go out to thewings—or the back of the stage with carpenters and electricians, and other characters waiting to come on—they go out—to a different world.”
“I don’t quite see, Miss Marple—”
“Oh, I know—I daresay it sounds very silly—but if you think of this as a play and the scene is ‘the Great Hall atStonygates’—what exactly is behind the scene?—I mean—what is backstage? The terrace—isn’t it?—the terrace anda lot of windows opening onto it.
“And that, you see, is how the conjuring trick was done. It was the trick of the Lady Sawn in Half that made methink of it.”
“The Lady Sawn in Half?” Inspector Curry was now quite sure that Miss Marple was a mental case.
“A most thrilling conjuring trick. You must have seen it—only not really one girl but two girls. The head of oneand the feet of the other. It looks like one person and is really two. And so I thought it could just as well be the otherway about. Two people could be really one person.”
“Two people really one?” Inspector Curry looked desperate.
“Yes. Not for long. How long did your constable take in the park to run to this house and back? Two minutes andforty-five seconds, wasn’t it? This would be less than that. Well under two minutes.”
“What was under two minutes?”
“The conjuring trick. The trick when it wasn’t two people but one person. In there—in the study. We’re onlylooking at the visible part of the stage. Behind the scenes, there is the terrace and a row of windows. So easy whenthere are two people in the study to open the study window, get out, run along the terrace (those footsteps Alex heard),in at the side door, shoot Christian Gulbrandsen and run back, and during that time, the other person in the study doesboth voices so that we’re all quite sure there are two people in there. And so there were most of the time, but not forthat little period of under—two minutes.”
Inspector Curry found his breath and his voice.
“Do you mean that it was Edgar Lawson who ran along the terrace and shot Gulbrandsen? Edgar Lawson whopoisoned Mrs. Serrocold?”
“But you see, Inspector, no one has been poisoning Mrs. Serrocold at all. That’s where the misdirection comes in.
Someone very cleverly used the fact that Mrs. Serrocold’s sufferings from arthritis were not unlike the symptoms ofarsenic poisoning. It’s the old conjurer’s trick of forcing a card on you. Quite easy to add arsenic to a bottle of tonic—quite easy to add a few lines to a typewritten letter. But the real reason for Mr. Gulbrandsen’s coming here was themost likely reason—something to do with the Gulbrandsen Trust. Money, in fact. Suppose that there had beenembezzlement—embezzlement on a very big scale—you see where that points? To just one person—”
“Lewis Serrocold?”
“Lewis Serrocold….”
第二十一章
柯里警督不耐烦地说：“什么事，马普尔小姐？”
“你看我们能不能到大厅里去说？”
柯里警督显得有些吃惊。
“你是不是想隐蔽一些？在这儿确实……”
他环顾了一下书房。
“不是想隐蔽些，有其他原因。我是想让你看一些东西，亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克让我发现了一些事。”
柯里警督咽了口唾沫，起身随马普尔小姐走进大厅。
“有人和你谈过话吗？”他暗示地问。
“不，”马普尔小姐说，“并不是有人说了什么，这是个变戏法的问题。他们用镜子干的，你知道——这种事——如果你明白我的意思。”
柯里警督不明白，他盯着她，猜测马普尔小姐是不是脑子有些不正常。
马普尔小姐站好，招呼警督站在她身边。
“我想让你把这儿想象成一个舞台，警督，就像克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森被杀的那天晚上一样。你在这儿，是一名观众，看着舞台上的演员——塞罗科尔德夫人，我，斯垂特夫人，吉娜，还有斯蒂芬。我们就像在舞台上一样，舞台有进口、有出口，台上的人物会去不同的地方。你作为观众，不知道他们究竟要去哪儿。
“他们去大门口，厨房……打开门时你会看见一小块涂了颜料的背景。但他们其实是去侧楼——或后台，那儿有木匠和电器工，还有其他要上台的角色——总之他们出去了，到另外的一个地方。”
“我有些糊涂，马普尔小姐——”
“嗯，我知道，我敢说这听起来挺愚蠢的，但请你把这一切设想成一出戏剧，场景是‘石门庄园的大厅’，场景后面有什么？我是说后台都有什么？平台，对吗？有平台和开向平台的许多扇窗户。
“你看，把戏就是这么耍的。是用锯切割女郎的戏法提醒了我，让我想到了这一点。”
“把女郎锯开？”柯里警督觉得马普尔小姐的脑子确实有点毛病。
“一个十分刺激的戏法。你肯定看过——戏法中其实有两个女孩而不是一个。一个露出头，另一个露出脚，看上去就像一个人，但其实是两个。所以我认为反过来也一样，两个人其实是一个人。”
“两个人其实是一个人？”柯里警督完全摸不着头脑了。
“对，不用太长时间。你的警员要用多长时间从停车场跑到这儿再折回去？两分四十五秒，对吗？还是比这还短？不超过两分钟。”
“什么不超过两分钟？”
“变戏法。两个人其实是一个人的戏法。在那儿——在书房里，我们只能看见舞台那部分。后面是平台，一排窗户。太容易了，书房里有两个人，其中一个打开书房的窗户，跳出去，沿着平台跑——亚历克斯听见过脚步声——从侧门进屋打死克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，然后再跑回来。在这期间，另一个人在书房里装出两个人的声音，使大家相信屋里有两个人。事实上大多数时间里屋里确实有两个人，只有一小会儿只有一个人，时间不超过两分钟。”
柯里警督终于喘了一口气，说了一句：“你是说埃德加•劳森沿着平台跑出去打死了古尔布兰森？埃德加•劳森还给塞罗科尔德夫人下毒？”
“警督，根本没人毒害塞罗科尔德夫人，整场戏迷惑人的地方就在这儿。有人很聪明地利用了塞罗科尔德夫人患有关节炎的事，和砒霜中毒的症状一样。这是魔术师的老把戏。
往补药瓶里加点砒霜，给打字机上的纸加几行字。古尔布兰森来这儿的真正原因确实与古尔布兰森信托公司有关，事实上就是钱。比如有人贪污，贪污了一大笔钱——你明白了吧？只有一个人能……”
柯里警督露出惊讶的目光：“你是说刘易斯•塞罗科尔德？”他不敢相信地低语着。
“正是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德……”马普尔小姐说。
Chapter Twenty-two
Twenty-two
P art of a letter from Gina Hudd to her aunt Mrs. Van Rydock:
—and so you see, darling Aunt Ruth, the whole thing has been just like a nightmare—especially the end of it. I’vetold you all about this funny young man Edgar Lawson. He always was a complete rabbit—and when the Inspectorbegan questioning him and breaking him down, he lost his nerve completely and scuttled like a rabbit. Just lost hisnerve and ran—literally ran. Jumped out of the window and round the house and down the drive, and then there wasa policeman coming to head him off, and he swerved and ran full tilt for the lake. He leaped into a rotten old puntthat’s mouldered there for years and pushed off. Quite a mad, senseless thing to do, of course, but as I say he was justa panic-stricken rabbit. And then Lewis gave a great shout and said, “That punt’s rotten” and raced off to the lake,too. The punt went down and there was Edgar struggling in the water. He couldn’t swim. Lewis jumped in and swamout to him. He got to him, but they were both in difficulty because they’d got among the reeds. One of the Inspector’smen went in with a rope round him, but he got entangled, too, and they had to pull him in. Aunt Mildred said “They’lldrown—they’ll drown—they’ll both drown …” in a silly sort of way, and Grandam just said “Yes.” I can’t describeto you just how she made that one word sound. Just “yes” and it went through you like—like a sword.
Am I being just silly and melodramatic? I suppose I am. But it did sound like that….
And then—when it was all over, and they’d got them out and tried artificial respiration (but it was no good), theInspector came to us and said to Grandam:
“I’m afraid, Mrs. Serrocold, there’s no hope.”
Grandam said very quietly:
“Thank you, Inspector.”
Then she looked at us all. Me, longing to help but not knowing how, and Jolly, looking grim and tender and readyto minister as usual, and Stephen, stretching out his hands, and funny old Miss Marple looking so sad, and tired, andeven Wally looking upset. All so fond of her and wanting to do something.
But Grandam just said, “Mildred.” And Aunt Mildred said, “Mother.” And they went away together into thehouse, Grandam looking so small and frail and leaning on Aunt Mildred. I never realised, until then, how fond of eachother they were. It didn’t show much, you know.
Gina paused and sucked the end of her fountain pen. She resumed:
About me and Wally—we’re coming back to the States as soon as we can….
第二十二章
吉娜•赫德在给姨外婆范•赖多克夫人的信中写了这么一段：
你看，亲爱的鲁恩姨婆，整件事就像噩梦一样——特别是结局。我已经跟你讲过那个有趣的人，埃德加•劳森。他一直是个十足的胆小鬼——警督刚开始审问他，他就完全崩溃了，失去了勇气，像只兔子一样逃窜。丧失理智地一直跑，跳出窗户，转过房子，沿着车道往下跑。后来有警察拦住他，他便掉头冲向湖边。
他跳到一只破船上，船在那里烂了好几年了，他跳上去，开了船。当然，这么做十分荒唐，正如我说的那样，他就像一只惊恐不已的兔子。后来，刘易斯大喊了一声“那只船早就烂了”，便冲向湖边。船沉了下去，埃德加在水中挣扎——他不会游泳，刘易斯跳进湖里游过去，游到他身边，但两人都遇到了麻烦，因为他们被芦苇缠住了。警督的一名手下在腰上系了根绳子下水去救，可他也被缠住了，大伙不得不把他拉回来。米尔德里德姨妈说：“他们会被淹死的，会淹死的——他们俩都会被淹死……”说这话时她显得很傻，外婆只说了一句“是”。我没法向你描述她是怎么说出这简单的一个字的。只说了“是”，可这个字像一把利剑，能把人刺穿。
我是不是过于夸张了？我想是的。但当时的情况就是如此……后来——这一切都过去后，人们把埃德加和刘易斯捞出来做人工呼吸（只是早已无济于事），警督走过来对外婆说：“塞罗科尔德夫人，恐怕是没救了。”
外婆平静地说：“谢谢你，警督。”
然后她平静地看着大家。我很想帮忙，但又不知道该怎么做，乔利看上去很小心，像以往一样准备帮忙。斯蒂芬伸出双手，可爱的马普尔小姐显得伤心而疲倦，沃利也很不安，大家都那么爱外婆，想要做点什么。
可是外婆只说了一声“米尔德里德”，而米尔德里德姨妈叫了声“妈妈”，她们就一起走回了家。外婆看上那么瘦小脆弱，她靠在米尔德里德姨妈身上。在那一刻之前，我从没意识到她们之间的感情有那么深，你知道，这种感情并不经常表现出来，可它一直在彼此的心里。
吉娜停下来，蘸了一下墨水，又接着写：
我和沃利——我们会尽快回美国去……
Chapter Twenty-three
Twenty-three
“W hat made you guess, Jane?”
Miss Marple took her time about replying. She looked thoughtfully at the other two—Carrie Louise thinner andfrailer and yet curiously untouched—and the old man with the sweet smile and the thick white hair. Dr. Galbraith,Bishop of Cromer.
The Bishop took Carrie Louise’s hand in his.
“This has been a great sorrow to you, my poor child, and a great shock.”
“A sorrow, yes, but not really a shock.”
“No,” said Miss Marple. “That’s what I discovered, you know. Everyone kept saying how Carrie Louise lived inanother world from this and was out of touch with reality. But actually, Carrie Louise, it was reality you were in touchwith, and not the illusion. You are never deceived by illusion like most of us are. When I suddenly realised that, I sawthat I must go by what you thought and felt. You were quite sure that no one would try to poison you, you couldn’tbelieve it—and you were quite right not to believe it, because it wasn’t so! You never believed that Edgar would harmLewis—and again you were right. He never would have harmed Lewis. You were sure that Gina did not love anyonebut her husband—and that, again, was quite true.
“So therefore, if I was to go by you, all the things that seemed to be true were only illusions. Illusions created for adefinite purpose—in the same ways that conjurers create illusions, to deceive an audience. We were the audience.
“Alex Restarick got an inkling of the truth first because he had the chance of seeing things from a different angle—from the outside angle. He was with the Inspector in the drive, and he looked at the house and realised the possibilitiesof the windows—and he remembered the sound of running feet he had heard that night, and then, the timing of theconstable showed him what a very short time things take to what we should imagine they would take. The constablepanted a lot, and later, thinking of a puffing constable, I remembered that Lewis Serrocold was out of breath that nightwhen he opened the study door. He’d just been running hard, you see….
“But it was Edgar Lawson that was the pivot of it all to me. There was always something wrong to me about EdgarLawson. All the things he said and did were exactly right for what he was supposed to be, but he himself wasn’t right.
Because he was actually a normal young man playing the part of a schizophrenic—and he was always, as it were, alittle larger than life. He was always theatrical.
“It must have all been very carefully planned and thought out. Lewis must have realised on the occasion ofChristian’s last visit that something had aroused his suspicions. And he knew Christian well enough to know that if hesuspected he would not rest until he had satisfied himself that his suspicions were either justified or unfounded.”
Carrie Louise stirred.
“Yes,” she said. “Christian was like that. Slow and painstaking, but actually very shrewd. I don’t know what it wasaroused his suspicions but he started investigating—and he found out the truth.”
The Bishop said: “I blame myself for not having been a more conscientious trustee.”
“It was never expected of you to understand finance,” said Carrie Louise. “That was originally Mr. Gilroy’sprovince. Then, when he died, Lewis’ great experience put him in what amounted to complete control. And that, ofcourse, was what went to his head.”
The pink colour came up in her cheeks.
“Lewis was a great man,” she said. “A man of great vision, and a passionate believer in what could beaccomplished—with money. He didn’t want it for himself—or, at least, not in the greedy vulgar sense—he did wantthe power of it—he wanted the power to do great good with it—”
“He wanted,” said the Bishop, “to be God.” His voice was suddenly stern. “He forgot that man is only the humbleinstrument of God’s will.”
“And so he embezzled the Trust funds?” said Miss Marple.
Dr. Galbraith hesitated.
“It wasn’t only that….”
“Tell her,” said Carrie Louise. “She is my oldest friend.”
The Bishop said:
“Lewis Serrocold was what one might call a financial wizard. In his years of highly technical accountancy, he hadamused himself by working out various methods of swindling which were practically foolproof. This had been merelyan academic study, but when he once began to envisage the possibilities that a vast sum of money could encompass,he put these methods into practice. You see, he had at his disposal some first class material. Amongst the boys whopassed through here, he chose out a small select band. They were boys whose bent was naturally criminal, who lovedexcitement, and who had a very high order of intelligence. We’ve not got nearly to the bottom of it all, but it seemsclear that this esoteric circle was secret and specially trained and by and by were placed in key positions, where, bycarrying out Lewis’ directions, books were falsified in such a way that large sums of money were converted withoutany suspicion being aroused. I gather that the operations and the ramifications are so complicated that it will bemonths before the auditors can unravel it all. But the net result seems to be that under various names and bankingaccounts and companies, Lewis Serrocold would have been able to dispose of a colossal sum with which he intendedto establish an overseas colony for a cooperative experiment in which juvenile delinquents should eventually own thisterritory and administer it. It may have been a fantastic dream—”
“It was a dream that might have come true,” said Carrie Louise.
“Yes, it might have come true. But the means Lewis Serrocold adopted were dishonest means, and ChristianGulbrandsen discovered that. He was very upset, particularly by the realisation of what the discovery and the probableprosecution of Lewis would mean to you, Carrie Louise.”
“That’s why he asked me if my heart was strong, and seemed so worried about my health,” said Carrie Louise. “Icouldn’t understand it.”
“Then Lewis Serrocold arrived back from the North, and Christian met him outside the house and told him that heknew what was going on. Lewis took it calmly, I think. Both men agreed they must do all they could to spare you.
Christian said he would write to me and ask me to come here, as a co-trustee, to discuss the position.”
“But of course,” said Miss Marple. “Lewis Serrocold had already prepared for this emergency. It was all planned.
He had brought the young man who was to play the part of Edgar Lawson to the house. There was a real EdgarLawson—of course—in case the police looked up his record. This false Edgar knew exactly what he had to do—actthe part of a schizophrenic victim of persecution—and give Lewis Serrocold an alibi for a few vital minutes.
“The next step had been thought out too. Lewis’ story that you, Carrie Louise, were being slowly poisoned—whenone actually came to think of it there was only Lewis’ story of what Christian had told him—that, and a few linesadded on the typewriter whilst he was waiting for the police. It was easy to add arsenic to the tonic. No danger for youthere—since he was on the spot to prevent you drinking it. The chocolates were just an added touch—and of coursethe original chocolates weren’t poisoned—only those he substituted before turning them over to Inspector Curry.”
“And Alex guessed,” said Carrie Louise.
“Yes—that’s why he collected your nail parings. They would show if arsenic actually had been administered over along period.”
“Poor Alex—poor Ernie.”
There was a moment’s silence as the other two thought of Christian Gulbrandsen, of Alexis Restarick, and of theboy Ernie—and of how quickly the act of murder could distort and deform.
“But surely,” said the Bishop, “Lewis was taking a big risk in persuading Edgar to be his accomplice—even if hehad some hold over him—”
Carrie shook her head.
“It wasn’t exactly a hold over him. Edgar was devoted to Lewis.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “Like Leonard Wylie and his father. I wonder perhaps if—”
She paused delicately.
“You saw the likeness, I suppose?” said Carrie Louise.
“So you knew that all along?”
“I guessed. I knew Lewis had once had a short infatuation for an actress, before he met me. He told me about it. Itwasn’t serious, she was a golddigging type of woman and she didn’t care for him, but I’ve no doubt at all that Edgarwas actually Lewis’ son….”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “That explains everything….”
“And he gave his life for him in the end,” said Carrie Louise. She looked pleadingly at the Bishop. “He did, youknow.”
There was a silence, and then Carrie Louise said:
“I’m glad it ended that way … with his life given in the hope of saving the boy … people who can be very goodcan be very bad, too. I always knew that was true about Lewis … But—he loved me very much—and I loved him.”
“Did you—ever suspect him?” asked Miss Marple.
“No,” said Carrie Louise. “Because I was puzzled by the poisoning. I knew Lewis would never poison me, and yetthat letter of Christian’s said definitely that someone was poisoning me—so I thought that everything I thought I knewabout people must be wrong….”
Miss Marple said, “But when Alex and Ernie were found killed. You suspected then?”
“Yes,” said Carrie Louise. “Because I didn’t think anyone else but Lewis would have dared. And I began to beafraid of what he might do next….”
She shivered slightly.
“I admired Lewis. I admired his—what shall I call it—his goodness? But I do see that if you’re—good, you have tobe humble as well.”
Dr. Galbraith said gently:
“That, Carrie Louise, is what I have always admired in you—your humility.”
The lovely blue eyes opened wide in surprise.
“But I’m not clever—and not particularly good. I can only admire goodness in other people.”
“Dear Carrie Louise,” said Miss Marple.
第二十三章
“你是如何猜到真相的，简？”
马普尔小姐没有急着回答这个问题，她若有所思地看着面前的两个人——愈发瘦削脆弱的卡莉•路易丝，令人不解的是，她看上去似乎没受什么影响。还有一位老先生，他笑容可掬，满头白发，他是克罗默的主教加尔布雷思医生。
主教握着卡莉•路易丝的手。
“这一切太令人伤心了，我可怜的孩子，这个打击太大了。”
“是件令人痛心的事，不过算不上打击。”
“没错，”马普尔小姐说，“的确是这样的。人们都说卡莉•路易丝生活在与这个世界不同的另外一个世界里，说她脱离了现实。可实际上，卡莉•路易丝，你面对的才是现实，不是幻觉。你从来没像我们中的大多数人一样被幻觉所欺骗。当我突然意识到这一点时，我发现我必须按照你的想法与感觉去做。你确定没人想毒害你，你无法相信这件事。你这么想非常正确，你是对的！你从来就不认为埃德加会伤害刘易斯，这一点你也是对的。他无论如何也不会伤害刘易斯。你确信吉娜只爱自己的丈夫不爱别人——这也是事实。
“因此，如果以你的眼光来看这些事，许多看上去是真实的东西只不过是幻象。有人制造幻觉，就像魔术师一样，欺骗观众。而我们正是那些观众。
“亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克发现了真相的蛛丝马迹，他有机会从另外一个角度——从外面那个角度——来看这件事。他曾和警督站在车道上观察这幢房子，发现了从窗户出入的可能性。他想起那天晚上听到的脚步声，警员的计时让他意识到要干那件事需要的时间非常短。警员气喘吁吁的样子让我想起那天晚上打开书房门时刘易斯•塞罗科尔德上气不接下气的模样。他刚刚剧烈奔跑过，你知道……
“可对我来说，埃德加•劳森才是一切的关键，我总觉得他不太对劲。他所说所做的一切都符和人们对他的设想，可他本身却很不正常。事实上他是个扮演精神分裂症患者的正常人——只是总是演得过于夸张，显得很戏剧化。
“这件事肯定得保密。克里斯蒂安上次来时刘易斯就意识到有什么事让克里斯蒂安起了疑心，他十分了解克里斯蒂安，知道如果他对什么事产生了怀疑就一定会紧追不放，他要证明自己的疑心是否有依据。”
卡莉•路易丝有些激动。
“对，”她说，“克里斯蒂安就是这样的。沉稳而有毅力，且十分聪明。我不知道什么事让他产生了怀疑，但他开始调查，并发现了事情的真相。”
主教说：“这都要怪我，我是个不太负责的受托人。”
“谁也不该指望你会懂财务。”卡莉•路易丝说，“那本来就是吉尔弗里先生管的，他去世后，刘易斯在这方面的经验让他完全控制了财务上的事，这也是我们早该想到的。”
说着，她的两颊又泛起红润的光泽。
“刘易斯是个了不起的人，”她说，“他很有远见，他坚定地相信用钱可以完成他想干的事业。他不是为自己挣钱——至少不是那种贪婪低俗的对钱的追求——他要的是钱所带给他的权力，他要用这个权力去干许多事……”
“他要成为上帝。”主教说话时声音很严肃，“他忘记了人类不过是上帝意志的服从者。”
“所以他贪污了信托基金吗？”马普尔小姐问。
加尔布雷思迟疑了一下。
“不只是这个……”
“告诉她吧，”卡莉•路易丝说，“她是我多年的好朋友。”
主教说：“刘易斯•塞罗科尔德是那种会被人们称为金融奇才的人。在他从事对技术要求很高的会计工作时，醉心于设计不同的方法，诈骗一些相当保险的资金。那时这不过是学术研究，但当他意识到真的可以弄到一笔巨大的钱财时，他便把这些方法付诸行动。你知道，他手下有些一流的人才，他从这些年轻人中选出一小部分优秀的，带来这里。这些孩子生来就有犯罪倾向，爱找刺激，智商非凡。我们还没弄清全部事实，但显然这个秘密团体行为诡秘，受过特殊训练，后来都身居要职，完成刘易斯的指示，修改账目，神不知鬼不觉地把大笔钱财转移走。行动的细节十分复杂，查账人员得用好几个月才能弄清真相。不过结果很简单，就是刘易斯•塞罗科尔德通过不同名字下的银行账户私吞了一大笔钱，他想用这笔钱在国外建立一个殖民地，作他理想中的实验——他想让青少年罪犯拥有并管理那片地方。这可真是个离奇的梦想……”
“这个梦差点儿成真。”卡莉•路易丝说。
“对，差点儿变成了现实。但刘易斯•塞罗科尔德采取的是不正当的手段，还被克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森发现了。他十分生气，并十分担心这个发现，以及日后针对刘易斯的起诉可能对你造成影响，卡莉•路易丝。”
“这就是他问我心脏好不好的原因，看上去他对我的健康深感担忧。”卡莉•路易丝说，“当时我根本不明白是怎么回事。”
“后来塞罗科尔德从北方回来，克里斯蒂安在屋外遇见他并跟他讲自己知道这件事了。
刘易斯表现得十分冷静。两个人都认为尽量不要让你卷进来。克里斯蒂安说要给我写信请我来，作为一个合伙受托人来讨论这个问题。”
“只是，”马普尔小姐说，“刘易斯•塞罗科尔德早为这件事做好了准备，全安排好了。他把那个扮演埃德加•劳森角色的年轻人带到了家里。当然，确有埃德加•劳森其人，以防警察查看他的履历。这个假埃德加十分明白自己该做什么——扮演一个因迫害而得精神分裂症的人，为塞罗科尔德提供极其关键的几分钟作案时间。
“下一步他们也早就谋划好了。刘易斯编了个故事，说你被人下毒慢慢谋害。想到这件事，人们只能认为是克里斯蒂安告诉他的，刘易斯在现场等警察时还往打字机上的纸上加打了几句话。往补药里加砒霜很容易，对你也不会构成危险，他只要在场确保不让你喝药就行了。巧克力的事不过是画蛇添足——当然，巧克力最初并没有毒，毒是在交给柯里警督之前才放的。”
“亚历克斯猜到了。”卡莉•路易丝说。
“对，这就是他为什么收集了你的指甲，指甲可以证明人体是否处于长期砒霜中毒中。”
“可怜的亚历克斯——可怜的厄尼。”
两人沉默了片刻，他们想到了克里斯蒂安•古尔布兰森，亚历克斯•雷斯塔里克，还有年轻人厄尼，想到了谋杀会迅速地把人的生活变扭曲。
“有一件事是肯定的，”主教说，“刘易斯说服埃德加成为他的同谋，这冒了很大的风险——即便他掌控着他……”
卡莉摇了摇头。
“不完全是掌控着他，埃德加对刘易斯十分忠心。”
“对，”马普尔小姐说，“就像伦纳德•威利和他父亲一样。我不清楚他们是不是……”
她犹豫了一下。
“这么说你发现他们的相似之处了？”卡莉•路易丝问。
“你一直都知道这件事，是吗？”
“是我猜的。遇见我之前刘易斯曾热恋过一个女演员，他跟我讲过。这没什么大不了的，那人是个淘金者，并不怎么在乎他。但我坚信埃德加其实是刘易斯的儿子……”
“对，”马普尔小姐说，“这就能说明一切了……”
“他最终为他献出了生命。”卡莉•路易丝看着主教，像是想为丈夫申辩，“他这么做了。”
沉默了片刻，卡莉•路易丝继续道：“事情这么了结我挺高兴的……他为了救自己的儿子而死……很好的人会变得很坏。我早就知道刘易斯是这样的人……可是，他很爱我，我也爱他。”
“你——怀疑过他吗？”马普尔小姐问。
“没有，”卡莉•路易丝说，“毒药的事把我弄糊涂了。我知道刘易斯绝对不会给我下毒，可是克里斯蒂安的信上明明说有人在给我投毒，所以我认为我对人的一切认识都是错误的……”
马普尔小姐说：“在亚历克斯和厄尼被人杀害以后，你起了疑心，是不是？”
“是的，”卡莉•路易丝说，“因为我认为除了刘易斯没人敢这么做。我开始担心他下一步会干什么……”
她微微颤抖了一下。
“我很敬佩刘易斯，我敬佩他的——可以说他的优秀吗？可是我也知道，如果你是个好人，你必须谦和一些。”
加尔布雷思大夫轻声说道：“卡莉•路易丝，这正是我一直崇敬你的地方——你的谦和。”
那双可爱的蓝眼睛由于惊讶而睁大了。
“可我并不聪明——也不优秀。我只是崇拜别人身上的优秀之处。”
“亲爱的卡莉•路易丝。”马普尔小姐轻声呼唤着。
Epilogue
Epilogue
“I think Grandam will be quite all right with Aunt Mildred,” said Gina. “Aunt Mildred seems much nicer now—notso peculiar, if you know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean,” said Miss Marple.
“So Wally and I will go back to the States in a fortnight’s time.”
Gina cast a look sideways at her husband.
“I shall forget all about Stonygates and Italy and all my girlish past and become a hundred percent American. Ourson will be always addressed as Junior. I can’t say fairer than that, can I, Wally?”
“You certainly cannot, Kate,” said Miss Marple.
Wally, smiling indulgently at an old lady who got names wrong, corrected her gently:
“Gina, not Kate.”
But Gina laughed.
“She knows what she’s saying! You see—she’ll call you Petruchio in a moment!”
“I just think,” said Miss Marple to Walter, “that you have acted very wisely, my dear boy.”
“She thinks you’re just the right husband for me,” said Gina.
Miss Marple looked from one to the other. It was very nice, she thought, to see two young people so much in love,and Walter Hudd was completely transformed from the sulky young man she had first encountered, into a good-humoured smiling giant….
“You two remind me,” she said, “of—”
Gina rushed forward and placed a hand firmly over Miss Marple’s mouth.
“No, darling,” she exclaimed. “Don’t say it. I’m suspicious of these village parallels. They’ve always got a sting inthe tail. You really are a wicked old woman, you know.”
Her eyes went misty.
“When I think of you, and Aunt Ruth and Grandam all being young together … how I wonder what you were alllike! I can’t imagine it somehow….”
“I don’t suppose you can,” said Miss Marple. “It was all a long time ago….”
尾声
尾声
“外婆和米尔德里德姨妈在一起不会有什么事的。”吉娜说，“米尔德里德姨妈比以前好多了——虽然也没有特别好，您明白我的意思吧？”
“我知道你是什么意思。”马普尔小姐说。
“我和沃利再过两个星期就回美国了。”
吉娜瞥了一眼旁边的丈夫。
“我将彻底忘记石门山庄，忘记意大利，以及我孩子气的过去，变成一个百分之百的美国人。我们的儿子会被称为小赫德。这么说最公平，对吗，沃利？”
“当然了，凯特。”马普尔小姐说。
沃利十分宽厚地冲这位弄错人名的老太太一笑，轻声矫正说：“是吉娜，不是凯特。”
吉娜却笑了起来。
“她知道自己在说什么！等一下她会叫你佩楚奇奥！”
“我认为，”马普尔小姐对沃尔特说，“你的做法十分明智，我亲爱的孩子。”
“她觉得你最适合做我的丈夫。”吉娜说。
马普尔小姐把两人仔细打量了一番。她想，看见两个年轻人相爱多好啊，沃尔特•赫德已经由她当初所认识的那个闷闷不乐的年轻人变成了一个心情愉快、面带笑容的高大小伙子……
“你们俩让我想起——”她说。
吉娜冲向前，把一只手放在马普尔小姐的嘴上。
“别说，亲爱的，”她大叫道，“别说了。我不相信人人都能用你们村子里的人来比，我们才不是那种有瑕疵的人呢。马普尔小姐，你是个有魔法的老太太。”吉娜的双眼湿润了。
“当我想到您、露丝姨外婆还有外婆，你们三个人一起上学时……我真想不出你们是什么样子！不知怎么，我就是想象不出……”
“我猜你也想不出来，”马普尔小姐说，“那是很久很久以前的事了……”