One A FAIRY IN THE FLAT
One A FAIRY IN THE FLAT

Mrs. Thomas Beresford shifted her position on the divan and lookedgloomily out of the window of the flat. The prospect was not an extendedone, consisting solely of a small block of flats on the other side of the road.
Mrs. Beresford sighed and then yawned.
“I wish,” she said, “something would happen.”
Her husband looked up reprovingly.
“Be careful, Tuppence, this craving for vulgar sensation alarms me.”
Tuppence sighed and closed her eyes dreamily.
“So Tommy and Tuppence were married,” she chanted, “and lived hap-pily ever afterwards. And six years later they were still living togetherhappily ever afterwards. It is extraordinary,” she said, “how differenteverything always is from what you think it is going to be.”
“A very profound statement, Tuppence. But not original. Eminent poetsand still more eminent divines have said it before—and if you will excuseme saying so, have said it better.”
“Six years ago,” continued Tuppence, “I would have sworn that with suf-ficient money to buy things with, and with you for a husband, all lifewould have been one grand sweet song, as one of the poets you seem toknow so much about puts it.”
“Is it me or the money that palls upon you?” inquired Tommy coldly.
“Palls isn’t exactly the word,” said Tuppence kindly. “I’m used to myblessings, that’s all. Just as one never thinks what a boon it is to be able tobreathe through one’s nose until one has a cold in the head.”
“Shall I neglect you a little?” suggested Tommy. “Take other womenabout to night clubs. That sort of thing.”
“Useless,” said Tuppence. “You would only meet me there with othermen. And I should know perfectly well that you didn’t care for the otherwomen, whereas you would never be quite sure that I didn’t care for theother men. Women are so much more thorough.”
“It’s only in modesty that men score top marks,” murmured her hus-band. “But what is the matter with you, Tuppence? Why this yearning dis-content?”
“I don’t know. I want things to happen. Exciting things. Wouldn’t youlike to go chasing German spies again, Tommy? Think of the wild days ofperil we went through once. Of course I know you’re more or less in theSecret Service now, but it’s pure office work.”
“You mean you’d like them to send me into darkest Russia disguised as aBolshevik bootlegger, or something of that sort?”
“That wouldn’t be any good,” said Tuppence. “They wouldn’t let me gowith you and I’m the person who wants something to do so badly. Some-thing to do. That is what I keep saying all day long.”
“Women’s sphere,” suggested Tommy, waving his hand.
“Twenty minutes’ work after breakfast every morning keeps the flag go-ing to perfection. You have nothing to complain of, have you?”
“Your housekeeping is so perfect, Tuppence, as to be almost monoton-ous.”
“I do like gratitude,” said Tuppence.
“You, of course, have got your work,” she continued, “but tell me,Tommy, don’t you ever have a secret yearning for excitement, for thingsto happen?”
“No,” said Tommy, “at least I don’t think so. It is all very well to wantthings to happen—they might not be pleasant things.”
“How prudent men are,” sighed Tuppence. “Don’t you ever have a wildsecret yearning for romance—adventure—life?”
“What have you been reading, Tuppence?” asked Tommy.
“Think how exciting it would be,” went on Tuppence, “if we heard a wildrapping at the door and went to open it and in staggered a dead man.”
“If he was dead he couldn’t stagger,” said Tommy critically.
“You know what I mean,” said Tuppence. “They always stagger in justbefore they die and fall at your feet, just gasping out a few enigmaticwords. ‘The Spotted Leopard,’ or something like that.”
“I advise a course of Schopenhauer or Emmanuel Kant,” said Tommy.
“That sort of thing would be good for you,” said Tuppence. “You are get-ting fat and comfortable.”
“I am not,” said Tommy indignantly. “Anyway you do slimming exer-cises yourself.”
“Everybody does,” said Tuppence. “When I said you were getting fat Iwas really speaking metaphorically, you are getting prosperous and sleekand comfortable.”
“I don’t know what has come over you,” said her husband.
“The spirit of adventure,” murmured Tuppence. “It is better than a long-ing for romance anyway. I have that sometimes too. I think of meeting aman, a really handsome man—”
“You have met me,” said Tommy. “Isn’t that enough for you?”
“A brown, lean man, terrifically strong, the kind of man who can rideanything and lassoes wild horses—”
“Complete with sheepskin trousers and a cowboy hat,” interpolatedTommy sarcastically.
“—and has lived in the Wilds,” continued Tuppence. “I should like himto fall simply madly in love with me. I should, of course, rebuff him virtu-ously and be true to my marriage vows, but my heart would secretly goout to him.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “I often wish that I may meet a really beautiful girl.
A girl with corn-coloured hair who will fall desperately in love with me.
Only I don’t think I rebuff her—in fact I am quite sure I don’t.”
“That,” said Tuppence, “is naughty temper.”
“What,” said Tommy, “is really the matter with you, Tuppence? Youhave never talked like this before.”
“No, but I have been boiling up inside for a long time,” said Tuppence.
“You see it is very dangerous to have everything you want — includingenough money to buy things. Of course there are always hats.”
“You have got about forty hats already,” said Tommy, “and they all lookalike.”
“Hats are like that,” said Tuppence. “They are not really alike. There arenuances in them. I saw rather a nice one in Violette’s this morning.”
“If you haven’t anything better to do than going on buying hats youdon’t need—”
“That’s it,” said Tuppence, “that’s exactly it. If I had something better todo. I suppose I ought to take up good works. Oh, Tommy, I do wish some-thing exciting would happen. I feel—I really do feel it would be good forus. If we could find a fairy—”
“Ah!” said Tommy. “It is curious your saying that.”
He got up and crossed the room. Opening a drawer of the writing tablehe took out a small snapshot print and brought it to Tuppence.
“Oh!” said Tuppence, “so you have got them developed. Which is this,the one you took of this room or the one I took?”
“The one I took. Yours didn’t come out. You underexposed it. You alwaysdo.”
“It is nice for you,” said Tuppence, “to think that there is one thing youcan do better than me.”
“A foolish remark,” said Tommy, “but I will let it pass for the moment.
What I wanted to show you was this.”
He pointed to a small white speck on the photograph.
“That is a scratch on the film,” said Tuppence.
“Not at all,” said Tommy. “That, Tuppence, is a fairy.”
“Tommy, you idiot.”
“Look for yourself.”
He handed her a magnifying glass. Tuppence studied the print attent-ively through it. Seen thus by a slight stretch of fancy the scratch on thefilm could be imagined to represent a small- winged creature on thefender.
“It has got wings,” cried Tuppence. “What fun, a real live fairy in ourflat. Shall we write to Conan Doyle about it? Oh, Tommy. Do you thinkshe’ll give us wishes?”
“You will soon know,” said Tommy. “You have been wishing hardenough for something to happen all the afternoon.”
At that minute the door opened, and a tall lad of fifteen who seemed un-decided as to whether he was a butler or a page boy inquired in a trulymagnificent manner.
“Are you at home, madam? The front doorbell has just rung.”
“I wish Albert wouldn’t go to the Pictures,” sighed Tuppence, after shehad signified her assent, and Albert had withdrawn. “He’s copying a LongIsland butler now. Thank goodness I’ve cured him of asking for people’scards and bringing them to me on a salver.”
The door opened again, and Albert announced: “Mr. Carter,” much asthough it were a Royal title.
“The Chief,” muttered Tommy, in great surprise.
Tuppence jumped up with a glad exclamation, and greeted a tall grey-haired man with piercing eyes and a tired smile.
“Mr. Carter, I am glad to see you.”
“That’s good, Mrs. Tommy. Now answer me a question. How’s life gener-ally?”
“Satisfactory, but dull,” replied Tuppence with a twinkle.
“Better and better,” said Mr. Carter. “I’m evidently going to find you inthe right mood.”
“This,” said Tuppence, “sounds exciting.”
Albert, still copying the Long Island butler, brought in tea. When this op-eration was completed without mishap and the door had closed behindhim Tuppence burst out once more.
“You did mean something, didn’t you, Mr. Carter? Are you going to sendus on a mission into darkest Russia?”
“Not exactly that,” said Mr. Carter.
“But there is something.”
“Yes—there is something. I don’t think you are the kind who shrinksfrom risks, are you, Mrs. Tommy?”
Tuppence’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
“There is certain work to be done for the Department—and I fancied—Ijust fancied—that it might suit you two.”
“Go on,” said Tuppence.
“I see that you take the Daily Leader,” continued Mr. Carter, picking upthat journal from the table.
He turned to the advertisement column and indicating a certain advert-isement with his finger pushed the paper across to Tommy.
“Read that out,” he said.
Tommy complied.
“The International Detective Agency, Theodore Blunt,Manager. Private Inquiries. Large staff of confidentialand highly skilled Inquiry Agents. Utmost discretion. Con-sultations free. 118 Haleham St., W.C.”
He looked inquiringly at Mr. Carter. The latter nodded. “That detectiveagency has been on its last legs for some time,” he murmured. “Friend ofmine acquired it for a mere song. We’re thinking of setting it going again—say, for a six months’ trial. And during that time, of course, it will haveto have a manager.”
“What about Mr. Theodore Blunt?” asked Tommy.
“Mr. Blunt has been rather indiscreet, I’m afraid. In fact, Scotland Yardhave had to interfere. Mr. Blunt is being detained at Her Majesty’s ex-pense, and he won’t tell us half of what we’d like to know.”
“I see, sir,” said Tommy. “At least, I think I see.”
“I suggest that you have six months leave from the office. Ill health. And,of course, if you like to run a Detective Agency under the name ofTheodore Blunt, it’s nothing to do with me.”
Tommy eyed his Chief steadily.
“Any instructions, sir?”
“Mr. Blunt did some foreign business, I believe. Look out for blue letterswith a Russian stamp on them. From a ham merchant anxious to find hiswife who came as a refugee to this country some years ago. Moisten thestamp and you’ll find the number 16 written underneath. Make a copy ofthese letters and send the originals on to me. Also if any one comes to theoffice and makes a reference to the number 16, inform me immediately.”
“I understand, sir,” said Tommy. “And apart from these instructions?”
Mr. Carter picked up his gloves from the table and prepared to depart.
“You can run the Agency as you please. I fancied”—his eyes twinkled alittle—“that it might amuse Mrs. Tommy to try her hand at a little detect-ive work.”
第一章 公寓精灵
第一章 公寓精灵
托马斯•贝尔斯福德夫人在长沙发椅上挪动了一下，忧郁地透过公寓窗户朝外望去。窗外的风景并不开阔，只能看见街对面的一片街区。托马斯•贝尔斯福德夫人叹了口气，然后打了个呵欠。
“我觉得，”她说，“有什么事要发生。”
她丈夫抬头瞪了她一眼，以示不赞同。
“小心，塔彭丝，你这个粗俗的说法吓到了我。”
塔彭丝又叹口气，然后神情恍惚地闭上双眼。
“就这样，汤米和塔彭丝结婚了，”她吟诵到，“从此以后幸福地生活在一起。六年后，他们还是一如既往地幸福。这简直不可思议，事情的结局总是和你最初想的大相径庭。”
“一个深刻的结论，塔彭丝。但不是你的原创。许多著名的诗人和杰出的牧师过去也曾说过，而且说得更好——如果你能原谅我这样说的话。”
“六年前，”塔彭丝继续说，“我肯定发过誓，只要有充裕的钱，有你这样一位如意郎君，我的生活就会像一首甜蜜的歌，就像某位你似乎比较熟悉的诗人说的那样。”
“难道是我或者是钱让你厌烦了？”汤米冷冷地问。
“‘厌烦’？你用词不当，”塔彭丝温和地说，“我只是习惯于上天赐予我的福分，仅此而已。就像一个人除非患了感冒，否则是不会感觉到能用鼻子呼吸是多么惬意的事情。”
“您能允许我离开您片刻吗？”汤米提议，“比如说，带上附近的其他女人去夜总会之类的。”
“没用，”塔彭丝说，“你在那儿也只能看见我和其他男人在一起。我清楚地知道你从没在乎过其他女人，而你却不确定，我是否在乎过其他男人。女人就是这样敏感透彻。”
“那只是因为男人的谦虚，给女人那么高的评价。”她的丈夫嘟囔道，“但是你到底怎么了，塔彭丝？为什么老是唉声叹气？”
“我不知道。我只是希望发生点事情，让人兴奋的事情。难道你不再想追踪德国间谍了吗，汤米？想想过去我们经历的那些危险而疯狂的日子。当然，我知道你现在多多少少还在为安全局做事，但那只不过是一份纯粹的坐办公室的工作。”
“你的意思是，你想让我假扮一个布尔什维克走私犯或其他什么人，被他们派到黑暗的俄国去？”
“那也没什么用，”塔彭丝说，“他们不会让我跟你去，而我是个闲不住的人。我要有事做。我一直喋喋不休，说的就是这个。”
“做点女人分内的事。”汤米摇着手，建议道。
“每天早饭后干二十分钟活儿，让一切都井井有条，你没有什么可抱怨的，对吧？”
“你的家务活儿做得无可挑剔，塔彭丝，简直整齐划一。”
“我确实喜欢被人感激。”塔彭丝说。
“当然，你有工作，”她继续说道，“但是告诉我，汤米，难道你从没有热切地渴望过有点刺激，期待有什么事情发生？
“没有，”汤米说，“至少我认为没有。想有事情发生好啊——不过可不见得是什么令人愉快的事情。”
“多么胆小的男人，”塔彭丝叹了口气，“难道你就没有暗暗地渴望过浪漫的、冒险的生活？”
“你一直都看什么书，塔彭丝？”汤米问道。
“想想，这该有多么刺激，”塔彭丝自顾自继续说，“如果我们听到疯狂的敲门声，打开门一看，却晃进来一个死人。”
“如果他死了，怎么晃进来？”汤米反驳道。
“你知道我什么意思，”塔彭丝说，“他们总是在死之前，摇摇晃晃，然后倒在你的脚下，喘息着吐出几个谜一般的单词，‘斑点豹’之类的。”
“我建议你认真学习叔本华或伊曼努尔•康德的课程。”汤米说。
“对，那类事情对你倒有好处，”塔彭丝说，“你越来越大腹便便，安逸舒适。”
“谁说的，”汤米愤愤地说，“倒是你自己，整天做瘦身运动。”
“人皆如此，”塔彭丝说，“说你大腹便便，我只是打了个比方，你现在真是心宽体胖，容光焕发，养尊处优。”
“我不知道你脑子里成天在想什么。”她丈夫说。
“冒险精神，”塔彭丝压低声音说，“总比渴望艳遇强。当然，我有时也会渴望艳遇，梦想邂逅一个男人，一个英俊帅气的男人——”
“你邂逅了我啊，”汤米说，“这还不够？”
“一个棕色皮肤，身材瘦削却十分强健的男人。他可以驾驭一切，可以套住野马——”塔彭丝继续梦呓般地说。
“还应装配上羊皮裤和牛仔帽——”汤米挖苦地插了一句。
“而且他一直生活在荒无人烟的旷野中，”塔彭丝毫不理会他，继续说，“我会让他疯狂地陷入爱河。而我，当然会断然拒绝他，从而信守我的结婚誓言，但我的心却会秘密地随他而去。”
“妙极了，”汤米说，“我经常希望会遇到一位无与伦比的美丽动人的女孩。一个金发女郎，她无可救药地爱上我，只是我不会拒绝她——坦率地说，一定不会。”
“真是玩世不恭。”塔彭丝说。
“你到底怎么了，塔彭丝？”汤米说，“你从来没这样说过话。”
“没怎么，但是我内心一直不平静，”塔彭丝说，“你看，心想事成是很危险的——包括有足够的钱，想买什么就买什么。当然也包括买帽子在内。”
“你已经买了大约四十顶帽子了吧，”汤米说，“而且它们看起来都一样。”
“看起来一样，其实并不一样。它们是有细微差别的，我今天上午就在维奥莱特商店看到了一顶十分漂亮的帽子。”
“除了买自己根本不戴的帽子，你是不是没有更有意义的事情做——”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“就是如此，如果有更有意义的事做，我想我应该能干好。哎，汤米，我多么希望有令人兴奋的事情发生。我觉得——我真觉得这样会对我们有好处。如果我们能发现一个精灵——”
“啊！”汤米说，“你这话说的，真是莫名其妙！”
他站起来，穿过房间，拉开写字台的一个抽屉，拿出一张小小的快照，递给塔彭丝。
“哦，”塔彭丝说，“看来你已经把它们都冲洗出来了，这是哪张？是你拍的，还是我拍的？”
“我拍的，你拍的没有洗出来，曝光了，你总是这样。”
“高兴吧，”塔彭丝说，“发现有件事你比我做得好。”
“一个愚蠢的评论，”汤米说，“但我不和你计较，我想让你看的是这个。”
他指着照片上一小道白色斑点。
“那是胶片上的划痕。”塔彭丝说。
“根本不是，”汤米说，“塔彭丝，那是个精灵。”
“汤米，你这个白痴！”
“你自己看！”
他递给她一个放大镜，塔彭丝透过镜片仔细审视着那张照片。借助一点儿想象，胶片上的这道划痕确实有点像一种长有双翼的小生物——就在壁炉架上。
“它竟然有翅膀，”塔彭丝喊道，“多么有趣，一个真正的精灵，我们房间的精灵，我们是不是该给柯南•道尔写封信？哦，汤米，你认为她会给我们带来好运吗？”
“你很快就知道了，”汤米说，“你整个下午不都在极力希望有什么事情发生吗？”
这时门开了，一个十五岁的高个儿少年——是男仆还是听差似乎不太好确定——以夸张的语调问道：
“您在吗，夫人？前门门铃刚响了。”
“我希望阿尔伯特别再去看电影了。”塔彭丝叹了口气。她点头示意后，阿尔伯特退了出去。“他现在一副长岛管家的派头。谢天谢地，我终于纠正了他跟客人要名片，再用一个浅托盘送进来的习惯。”
门再次打开，阿尔伯特大声通报“是卡特先生”，似乎那是一个皇室头衔。
“是局长。”汤米小声说，十分吃惊。
塔彭丝欢喜地叫了一声，跳起来去迎接客人。来者高个儿，灰头发，一双眼睛仿佛洞察一切，还加上一脸疲惫的微笑。
“卡特先生，见到你真是太高兴了。”
“非常感谢，汤米夫人，现在回答我一个问题，一向可好？”
“很好，但是太闷了。”塔彭丝答道，眨了下眼睛。
“会越来越好的，”卡特先生说，“很快我就能看到您高兴的样子了。”
“这话，”塔彭丝，“听起来令人兴奋。”
阿尔伯特，仍旧像个长岛男仆那样，端茶进来。当他干净利落地完成任务，随手关上门后，塔彭丝再次大声说：
“您一定有什么事，对不对，卡特先生？您是不是要交给我们一个任务，去黑暗的俄国？”
“并非如此。”卡特先生说。
“但是终归有什么事吧。”
“是的——是有事。我想您不是那种怕事的人，对吧，汤米太太？”
塔彭丝的眼睛兴奋地亮了。
“局里确实有任务——我想——我只是设想——这任务可能适合你们俩。”
“请您接着说。”塔彭丝急切地说。
“我看您订阅了《先导者日报》。”卡特先生继续说，随手从桌上拿起那份报纸。
他翻到了广告栏，把报纸推到汤米面前，用手指着一则广告。
“念念。”他说。
汤米照做。
国际侦探所，所长：西奥多•布兰特，承办私人业务。机密大案及高端业务咨询代理，最大的自由裁量权。免费咨询。黑海姆大街一一八号，华盛顿区。
他疑惑地看着卡特先生。后者点点头：“这个侦探所已经濒临关闭有一段时间了，”他低声说，“我的一个朋友以极低的价格盘下了它，我们想让它再次运转起来——比如，先尝试六个月。在这段时间内，当然，得有一个所长。”
“西奥多•布兰特怎么不接着干呢？”汤米问。
“西奥多•布兰特恐怕不是很谨慎。实际上，苏格兰场已经干预此事。女王陛下已签批将其拘留，对我们想知道的事情，他只字不露。”
“懂了，长官，”汤米说，“至少，我认为懂了。”
“我建议你向你的办公室以生病为由请六个月假。当然，如果你愿意运作一个名叫西奥多•布兰特的私人侦探所，那可和我一毛钱关系也没有。”
汤米平静地望着他的上司。
“还有什么指示吗，先生？”
“我相信布兰特先生做过一些涉外业务，你要留意贴有俄国邮票的蓝色信件。这些信来自一个火腿商人，他急于找到自己的妻子。他的妻子几年前以避难的名义来到这个国家。
弄湿邮票，你就会发现邮票背面的数字：16，复印这些信件，把原件送给我。当然，如果有人来办公室提及数字16，也要立刻向我报告。”
“是，先生，”汤米说，“还有什么任务吗？”
卡特从桌上拿起手套，准备离开。
“你可以随意运作这个侦探所，我想——他的眼睛眨了眨——在一些普通侦探事务中一试身手，可能会让汤米夫人愉快些。”
Two A POT OF TEA
Two A POT OF TEA

Mr. and Mrs. Beresford took possession of the offices of the InternationalDetective Agency a few days later. They were on the second floor of asomewhat dilapidated building in Bloomsbury. In the small outer office,Albert relinquished the role of a Long Island butler, and took up that of of-fice boy, a part which he played to perfection. A paper bag of sweets, inkyhands, and a tousled head was his conception of the character.
From the outer office, two doors led into inner offices. On one door waspainted the legend “Clerks.” On the other “Private.” Behind the latter wasa small comfortable room furnished with an immense business-like desk,a lot of artistically labelled files, all empty, and some solid leather-seatedchairs. Behind the desk sat the pseudo Mr. Blunt trying to look as thoughhe had run a Detective Agency all his life. A telephone, of course, stood athis elbow. Tuppence and he had rehearsed several good telephone effects,and Albert also had his instructions.
In the adjoining room was Tuppence, a typewriter, the necessary tablesand chairs of an inferior type to those in the room of the great Chief, and agas ring for making tea.
Nothing was wanting, in fact, save clients.
Tuppence, in the first ecstasies of initiation, had a few bright hopes.
“It will be too marvellous,” she declared. “We will hunt down murder-ers, and discover the missing family jewels, and find people who’ve disap-peared and detect embezzlers.”
At this point Tommy felt it his duty to strike a more discouraging note.
“Calm yourself, Tuppence, and try to forget the cheap fiction you are inthe habit of reading. Our clientèle, if we have any clientèle at all—will con-sist solely of husbands who want their wives shadowed, and wives whowant their husbands shadowed. Evidence for divorce is the sole prop ofprivate inquiry agents.”
“Ugh!” said Tuppence, wrinkling a fastidious nose. “We shan’t touch di-vorce cases. We must raise the tone of our new profession.”
“Ye-es,” said Tommy doubtfully.
And now a week after installation they compared notes rather ruefully.
“Three idiotic women whose husbands go away for weekends,” sighedTommy. “Anyone come whilst I was out at lunch?”
“A fat old man with a flighty wife,” sighed Tuppence sadly. “I’ve read inthe papers for years that the divorce evil was growing, but somehow Inever seemed to realise it until this last week. I’m sick and tired of saying,‘We don’t undertake divorce cases.’ ”
“We’ve put it in the advertisements now,” Tommy reminded her. “So itwon’t be so bad.”
“I’m sure we advertise in the most tempting way too,” said Tuppence ina melancholy voice. “All the same, I’m not going to be beaten. If necessary,I shall commit a crime myself, and you will detect it.”
“And what good would that do? Think of my feelings when I bid you atender farewell at Bow Street—or is it Vine Street?”
“You are thinking of your bachelor days,” said Tuppence pointedly.
“The Old Bailey, that is what I mean,” said Tommy.
“Well,” said Tuppence, “something has got to be done about it. Here weare bursting with talent and no chance of exercising it.”
“I always like your cheery optimism, Tuppence. You seem to have nodoubt whatever that you have talent to exercise.”
“Of course,” said Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide.
“And yet you have no expert knowledge whatever.”
“Well, I have read every detective novel that has been published in thelast ten years.”
“So have I,” said Tommy, “but I have a sort of feeling that that wouldn’treally help us much.”
“You always were a pessimist, Tommy. Belief in oneself — that is thegreat thing.”
“Well, you have got it all right,” said her husband.
“Of course it is easy in detective stories,” said Tuppence thoughtfully,“because one works backwards. I mean if one knows the solution one canarrange the clues. I wonder now—”
She paused wrinkling her brows.
“Yes?” said Tommy inquiringly.
“I have got a sort of idea,” said Tuppence. “It hasn’t quite come yet, butit’s coming.” She rose resolutely. “I think I shall go and buy that hat I toldyou about.”
“Oh, God!” said Tommy, “another hat!”
“It’s a very nice one,” said Tuppence with dignity.
She went out with a resolute look on her face.
Once or twice in the following days Tommy inquired curiously aboutthe idea. Tuppence merely shook her head and told him to give her time.
And then, one glorious morning, the first client arrived, and all else wasforgotten.
There was a knock on the outer door of the office and Albert, who hadjust placed an acid drop between his lips, roared out an indistinct “Comein.” He then swallowed the acid drop whole in his surprise and delight.
For this looked like the Real Thing.
A tall young man, exquisitely and beautifully dressed, stood hesitatingin the doorway.
“A toff, if ever there was one,” said Albert to himself. His judgement insuch matters was good.
The young man was about twenty- four years of age, had beautifullyslicked back hair, a tendency to pink rims round the eyes, and practicallyno chin to speak of.
In an ecstasy, Albert pressed a button under his desk and almost imme-diately a perfect fusilade of typing broke out from the direction of“Clerks.” Tuppence had rushed to the post of duty. The effect of this humof industry was to overawe the young man still further.
“I say,” he remarked. “Is this the whatnot—detective agency—Blunt’sBrilliant Detectives? All that sort of stuff, you know? Eh?”
“Did you want, sir, to speak to Mr. Blunt himself?” inquired Albert, withan air of doubts as to whether such a thing could be managed.
“Well—yes, laddie, that was the jolly old idea. Can it be done?”
“You haven’t an appointment, I suppose?”
The visitor became more and more apologetic.
“Afraid I haven’t.”
“It’s always wise, sir, to ring up on the phone first. Mr. Blunt is so ter-ribly busy. He’s engaged on the telephone at the moment. Called into con-sultation by Scotland Yard.”
The young man seemed suitably impressed.
Albert lowered his voice, and imparted information in a friendly fash-ion.
“Important theft of documents from a Government Office. They wantMr. Blunt to take up the case.”
“Oh! really. I say. He must be no end of a fellow.”
“The Boss, sir,” said Albert, “is It.”
The young man sat down on a hard chair, completely unconscious of thefact that he was being subjected to keen scrutiny by two pairs of eyes look-ing through cunningly contrived peepholes—those of Tuppence, in the in-tervals of frenzied typing, and those of Tommy awaiting the suitable mo-ment.
Presently a bell rang with violence on Albert’s desk.
“The Boss is free now. I will find out whether he can see you,” said Al-bert, and disappeared through the door marked “Private.”
He reappeared immediately.
“Will you come this way, sir?”
The visitor was ushered into the private office, and a pleasant- facedyoung man with red hair and an air of brisk capability rose to greet him.
“Sit down. You wish to consult me? I am Mr. Blunt.”
“Oh! Really. I say, you’re awfully young, aren’t you?”
“The day of the Old Men is over,” said Tommy, waving his hand. “Whocaused the war? The Old Men. Who is responsible for the present state ofunemployment? The Old Men. Who is responsible for every single rottenthing that has happened? Again I say, the Old Men!”
“I expect you are right,” said the client, “I know a fellow who is a poet—at least he says he is a poet—and he always talks like that.”
“Let me tell you this, sir, not a person on my highly trained staff is a dayover twenty-five. That is the truth.”
Since the highly trained staff consisted of Tuppence and Albert, thestatement was truth itself.
“And now—the facts,” said Mr. Blunt.
“I want you to find someone that’s missing,” blurted out the young man.
“Quite so. Will you give me the details?”
“Well, you see, it’s rather difficult. I mean, it’s a frightfully delicate busi-ness and all that. She might be frightfully waxy about it. I mean—well, it’sso dashed difficult to explain.”
He looked helplessly at Tommy. Tommy felt annoyed. He had been onthe point of going out to lunch, but he foresaw that getting the facts out ofthis client would be a long and tedious business.
“Did she disappear of her own free will, or do you suspect abduction?”
he demanded crisply.
“I don’t know,” said the young man. “I don’t know anything.”
Tommy reached for a pad and pencil.
“First of all,” he said, “will you give me your name? My office boy istrained never to ask names. In that way consultations can remain com-pletely confidential.”
“Oh! rather,” said the young man. “Jolly good idea. My name—er—myname’s Smith.”
“Oh! no,” said Tommy. “The real one, please.”
His visitor looked at him in awe.
“Er—St. Vincent,” he said. “Lawrence St. Vincent.”
“It’s a curious thing,” said Tommy, “how very few people there arewhose real name is Smith. Personally, I don’t know anyone called Smith.
But nine men out of ten who wish to conceal their real name give that ofSmith. I am writing a monograph upon the subject.”
At that moment a buzzer purred discreetly on his desk. That meant thatTuppence was requesting to take hold. Tommy, who wanted his lunch,and who felt profoundly unsympathetic towards Mr. St. Vincent, was onlytoo pleased to relinquish the helm.
“Excuse me,” he said, and picked up the telephone.
Across his face there shot rapid changes—surprise, consternation, slightelation.
“You don’t say so,” he said into the phone. “The Prime Minister himself?
Of course, in that case, I will come round at once.”
He replaced the receiver on the hook, and turned to his client.
“My dear sir, I must ask you to excuse me. A most urgent summons. Ifyou will give the facts of the case to my confidential secretary, she willdeal with them.”
He strode to the adjoining door.
“Miss Robinson.”
Tuppence, very neat and demure with smooth black head and daintycollars and cuffs, tripped in. Tommy made the necessary introductionsand departed.
“A lady you take an interest in has disappeared, I understand, Mr. St.
Vincent,” said Tuppence, in her soft voice, as she sat down and took up Mr.
Blunt’s pad and pencil. “A young lady?”
“Oh! rather,” said St. Vincent. “Young—and—and—awfully good-lookingand all that sort of thing.”
Tuppence’s face grew grave.
“Dear me,” she murmured. “I hope that—”
“You don’t think anything’s really happened to her?” demanded Mr. St.
Vincent, in lively concern.
“Oh! we must hope for the best,” said Tuppence, with a kind of falsecheerfulness which depressed Mr. St. Vincent horribly.
“Oh! look here, Miss Robinson. I say, you must do something. Spare noexpense. I wouldn’t have anything happen to her for the world. You seemawfully sympathetic, and I don’t mind telling you in confidence that Isimply worship the ground that girl walks on. She’s a topper, an absolutetopper.”
“Please tell me her name and all about her.”
“Her name’s Jeanette—I don’t know her second name. She works in ahat shop—Madame Violette’s in Brook Street—but she’s as straight as theymake them. Has ticked me off no end of times—I went round there yester-day—waiting for her to come out—all the others came, but not her. Then Ifound that she’d never turned up that morning to work at all—sent nomessage either—old Madame was furious about it. I got the address of herlodgings, and I went round there. She hadn’t come home the night before,and they didn’t know where she was. I was simply frantic. I thought of go-ing to the police. But I knew that Jeanette would be absolutely furious withme for doing that if she were really all right and had gone off on her own.
Then I remembered that she herself had pointed out your advertisementto me one day in the paper and told me that one of the women who’d beenin buying hats had simply raved about your ability and discretion and allthat sort of thing. So I toddled along here right away.”
“I see,” said Tuppence. “What is the address of her lodgings?”
The young man gave it to her.
“That’s all, I think,” said Tuppence reflectively. “That is to say—am I tounderstand that you are engaged to this young lady?”
Mr. St. Vincent turned a brick red.
“Well, no—not exactly. I never said anything. But I can tell you this, Imean to ask her to marry me as soon as ever I see her—if I ever do see heragain.”
Tuppence laid aside her pad.
“Do you wish for our special twenty-four hour service?” she asked inbusinesslike tones.
“What’s that?”
“The fees are doubled, but we put all our available staff onto the case.
Mr. St. Vincent, if the lady is alive, I shall be able to tell you where she isby this time tomorrow.”
“What? I say, that’s wonderful.”
“We only employ experts—and we guarantee results,” said Tuppencecrisply.
“But I say, you know. You must have the most topping staff.”
“Oh! we have,” said Tuppence. “By the way, you haven’t given me a de-scription of the young lady.”
“She’s got the most marvellous hair—sort of golden but very deep, like ajolly old sunset—that’s it, a jolly old sunset. You know, I never noticedthings like sunsets until lately. Poetry too, there’s a lot more in poetry thanI ever thought.”
“Red hair,” said Tuppence unemotionally, writing it down. “What heightshould you say the lady was?”
“Oh! tallish, and she’s got ripping eyes, dark blue, I think. And a sort ofdecided manner with her—takes a fellow up short sometimes.”
Tuppence wrote down a few words more, then closed her notebook androse.
“If you will call here tomorrow at two o’clock, I think we shall havenews of some kind for you,” she said. “Good morning, Mr. St. Vincent.”
When Tommy returned Tuppence was just consulting a page of Debrett.
“I’ve got all the details,” she said succinctly. “Lawrence St. Vincent is thenephew and heir of the Earl of Cheriton. If we pull this through we shallget publicity in the highest places.”
Tommy read through the notes on the pad.
“What do you really think has happened to the girl?” he asked.
“I think,” said Tuppence, “that she has fled at the dictates of her heart,feeling that she loves this young man too well for her peace of mind.”
Tommy looked at her doubtfully.
“I know they do it in books,” he said, “but I’ve never known any girl whodid it in real life.”
“No?” said Tuppence. “Well, perhaps you’re right. But I dare sayLawrence St. Vincent will swallow that sort of slush. He’s full of romanticnotions just now. By the way, I guaranteed results in twenty-four hours—our special service.”
“Tuppence—you congenital idiot, what made you do that?”
“The idea just came into my head. I thought it sounded rather well.
Don’t you worry. Leave it to mother. Mother knows best.”
She went out leaving Tommy profoundly dissatisfied.
Presently he rose, sighed, and went out to do what could be done, curs-ing Tuppence’s overfervent imagination.
When he returned weary and jaded at half past four, he found Tup-pence extracting a bag of biscuits from their place of concealment in oneof the files.
“You look hot and bothered,” she remarked. “What have you been do-ing?”
Tommy groaned.
“Making a round of the hospitals with that girl’s description.”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave it to me?” demanded Tuppence.
“You can’t find that girl single-handed before two o’clock tomorrow.”
“I can—and what’s more, I have!”
“You have? What do you mean?”
“A simple problem, Watson, very simple indeed.”
“Where is she now?”
Tuppence pointed a hand over her shoulder.
“She’s in my office next door.”
“What is she doing there?”
Tuppence began to laugh.
“Well,” she said, “early training will tell, and with a kettle, a gas ring,and half a pound of tea staring her in the face, the result is a foregone con-clusion.
“You see,” continued Tuppence gently. “Madame Violette’s is where I gofor my hats, and the other day I ran across an old pal of hospital daysamongst the girls there. She gave up nursing after the war and started ahat shop, failed, and took this job at Madame Violette’s. We fixed up thewhole thing between us. She was to rub the advertisement well into youngSt. Vincent, and then disappear. Wonderful efficiency of Blunt’s BrilliantDetectives. Publicity for us, and the necessary fillip to young St. Vincent tobring him to the point of proposing. Janet was in despair about it.”
“Tuppence,” said Tommy. “You take my breath away! The whole thing isthe most immoral business I ever heard of. You aid and abet this youngman to marry out of his class—”
“Stuff,” said Tuppence. “Janet is a splendid girl—and the queer thing isthat she really adores that week-kneed young man. You can see with half aglance what his family needs. Some good red blood in it. Janet will be themaking of him. She’ll look after him like a mother, ease down the cocktailsand the night clubs and make him lead a good healthy country gentle-man’s life. Come and meet her.”
Tuppence opened the door of the adjoining office and Tommy followedher.
A tall girl with lovely auburn hair, and a pleasant face, put down thesteaming kettle in her hand, and turned with a smile that disclosed aneven row of white teeth.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, Nurse Cowley — Mrs. Beresford, I mean. Ithought that very likely you’d be quite ready for a cup of tea yourself.
Many’s the pot of tea you’ve made for me in the hospital at three o’clock inthe morning.”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence. “Let me introduce you to my old friend, NurseSmith.”
“Smith, did you say? How curious!” said Tommy shaking hands. “Eh?
Oh! nothing—a little monograph that I was thinking of writing.”
“Pull yourself together, Tommy,” said Tuppence.
She poured him out a cup of tea.
“Now, then, let’s drink together. Here’s to the success of the Interna-tional Detective Agency. Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives! May they never knowfailure!”
第二章 一壶清茶
第二章 一壶清茶
几天后，贝尔斯福德夫妇接管了那家国际侦探所。他们的办公室在一栋有些破败的建筑物的三楼，地处布卢姆斯伯里大街。在他们办公室外的那个小小的写字间里，阿尔伯特放弃了长岛男仆的角色，摇身一变成为办公室助理，他把这个角色扮演得无可挑剔。一纸袋糖果，墨水染黑的手指，蓬乱的头发，这就是他对这个角色形象的演绎。
穿过外面的写字间，经过两扇门就到了里面的办公室。其中一扇门上用油漆写着“办公重地”几个字，另一扇门上则漆着“非请莫入”。这扇门后，是一个小巧而舒适的房间，里面摆放着一张硕大的办公桌；桌上有许多贴着精美标签的文件袋，里面空空如也；还有几把结实的皮座椅。办公桌后，冒牌的布兰特先生坐在那儿，他竭力摆出一副似乎一辈子都在经营这个侦探所的架势。自然，在他肘边，还有一部电话。塔彭丝和他已经成功地演练过内部通话，阿尔伯特也深谙其妙。
毗邻的房间是塔彭丝的，里面有一台打字机，一对必要的桌椅——和她的顶头上司相比档次就逊色得多；另外还有一个用来煮茶的小煤气炉。
万事俱备，开门揖客。
塔彭丝，正处于一开始的新鲜阶段，内心抱有一些强烈的希望。
“简直太妙了，”她宣告，“我们将追踪谋杀案犯，发现家族的秘密财宝，找到失踪者，侦查贪污公款的罪犯。”
这时汤米觉得有责任给她泼点冷水。
“淡定，塔彭丝，别老想着你平时读的那些廉价小说。我们的委托——如果我们有委托人上门的话——只会是那些想跟踪妻子的丈夫，或是些想盯丈夫梢的妻子。搜集离婚证据是私家侦探的主要业务。”
“啊哈！”塔彭丝挑剔地皱了皱鼻头。
“我们不碰离婚案子，我们要提高新工作的起点。”
“行……行吧。”汤米不置可否地说。
现在开张一个星期了，他们情绪低落地对照着工作记录。
“三个蠢女人，她们的丈夫失踪好几周了，”汤米叹了口气，“我去吃午饭时有人来过吗？”
“一个胖老头和他轻浮的老婆，”塔彭丝悲观地叹着气说，“我从报纸上看到，离婚案连年增长，但是直到上周，我才真正体会到这点。懒得再说‘我们不接离婚案’，都把我嘴皮磨出茧子了。”
“我们现在已经把这条写到广告中，”汤米提醒她，“所以不会再这么糟糕了。”
“我也相信我们的广告有足够的吸引力，”塔彭丝闷闷不乐地说，“同时，我是不会退缩的，实在不行，我就自己犯个案子，你来侦破。”
“那有什么好处？想想我的感受：就是那次，我向你求一个温柔的告别，在布尔大街还是常青藤大街来着？”
“你在怀念单身汉的日子。”塔彭丝尖锐地说。
“老贝利 [1] ，我指的是。”汤米说。
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“必须得想想办法了，我们有能力，但无用武之地啊。”
“我一直喜欢你的乐观，塔彭丝，你似乎从没怀疑过天生我才必有用啊。”
“当然了。”塔彭丝瞪大了眼睛。
“但是毕竟你没有专业知识啊。”
“啊，我读过近十年来出版的每一本侦探小说。”
“我也读过，”汤米说，“但是我有种感觉，这些侦探小说对我们实际帮助并不大。”
“你总是这么悲观，汤米。自信点——自信很了不起哟。”
“是，你总是这样。”她的丈夫说。
“在侦探小说中，办案当然很容易，”塔彭丝沉思着，“因为作家是逆向追踪，我的意思是，如果一个人知道结果，他就可以按结果安排线索。我在想——”
她住了嘴，皱起眉头。
“什么？”汤米好奇地问。
“我有个主意，”彭塔说，“不过还没想好，正在想。”她一下站起身来，“我想我要出去买和你提过的那顶帽子。”
“哦，老天！”汤米叫道，“又买帽子！”
“那顶帽子不错。”塔彭丝郑重其事地说。
她一脸坚定地出去了。
接下来的几天，汤米时不时地会好奇地问到那个主意。塔彭丝只是摇摇头，说再给她点时间。
接下来，一个美好的早晨，第一个顾客光临了，从此别的一切都被抛诸脑后。
外面的写字间响起了一阵敲门声，阿尔伯特——刚刚把一颗酸味糖果放到双唇之间——冲了过去，同时嘴里迸出“请进”二字。由于惊喜和慌乱，他一下整个吞下了那颗酸味糖果。因为这回看来真的来买卖了。
一个高个子年轻人穿着考究而帅气，踌躇地站在门口。
“一个标准的花花公子。”阿尔伯特自言自语，他在这方面的判断力还是很强的。
这个年轻人大约二十四岁，一头卷曲的漂亮的黑发，眼圈涂成粉红色的圆弧，几乎没有下巴可言。
阿尔伯特一阵狂喜，按下桌上的按钮，几乎同时，一串清脆的打字声从写有“办公重地”的房门方向传来，显然塔彭丝已经冲到了自己岗位上。这种紧张忙碌的气氛更加重了这个年轻人的紧张。
“我说”，他问，“这儿是什么——侦探所——布兰特卓越侦探所？是吗？嗯？”
“您要见布兰特先生本人吗，先生？”阿尔伯特问道，一脸怀疑，似乎不敢肯定这事能不能安排。
“啊——是的，小伙子，这是个好主意，可以吗？”
“您没有预约吧，我想？”
来访者显得更加不安，抱歉地说：
“恐怕没有。”
“事先打个电话是明智之举，先生。布兰特先生总是忙得不可开交，现在他正在接电话，苏格兰场打过来的咨询电话。”
这番话恰到好处地令这个年轻人肃然起敬。
阿尔伯特压低声音，仿佛老朋友般向他透露：
“一件重大的政府部门文件失窃案，他们想让布兰特先生接手这个案子。”
“哦，真的？他一定是个厉害的角色。”
“一点不错，先生，我们老板可以说是个大人物。”
年轻人在一张硬木椅子上坐下来，他完全没有意识到，自己正被两双眼睛窥视着。一双是塔彭丝的，她在急速的打字间歇中，透过两个安装巧妙的偷窥孔窥探。一双是汤米的，好似猎手正在等待合适的时机下手。
这时，阿尔伯特桌上的电话铃急促地响起来。
“老板现在有空。我看看他是否有时间见您。”阿尔伯特说着，消失在写有“非请莫入”大字的门后。
很快他就出来了。
“请随我来，先生。”
来访者被引进那间私人办公室，一个笑容可掬、满头红发的年轻人，带着一副笃定的神情站起来欢迎他。
“请坐，您有事咨询吗？我是布兰特。”
“哦，真的吗？我的意思是，您原来这么年轻，不是吗？”
“老年人的时代已经过去了，”汤米摇着手说，“谁酿成的战争？老年人。谁造成的失业现状？老年人。谁为现在发生的每一桩腐败负责？我不得不再次回答，老年人。”
“我认为您说得对，”客人说，“我认识一个人，他是个诗人——至少他自称是诗人——他和您见地一致。”
“让我来告诉您，先生，在我那些训练有素的员工中，没有一个人比二十五岁大一天，真的。”
既然训练有素的员工由塔彭丝和阿尔伯特组成，这个声明当然是真的。
“现在——请谈谈您的事吧。”布兰特先生说道。
“我想请您寻找一个下落不明的人。”这个年轻人脱口而出。
“那么，您能为我提供细节吗？”
“哦，这事不太好说。我的意思是，这件事十分复杂微妙。她可能是被胁迫的——这真的很难解释。”
他无助地望着汤米。汤米觉得有点厌烦，他本来正要出去吃午饭，但是此时他预感要从这个客人口里获得详情，恐怕既费时间又枯燥无趣。
“她是完全出于自愿呢，还是你怀疑她被诱拐了？”他直截了当地问。
“我不知道，”这个年轻人说，“我一无所知。”
汤米拿起一个便签本和一支铅笔。
“首先，”他说，“能告诉我您的尊姓大名吗？我的办公室助理受过良好训练，从不问顾客姓名。这样咨询谈话才能做到绝对保密。”
“哦，是的，”年轻人说，“这是个好主意，我的名字……呃……我的名字是史密斯。”
“哦，不，”汤米说，“请说真名。”
来访者有些敬畏地看了看汤米。
“呃——圣文森特，”他说，“劳伦斯•圣文森特。”
“很奇怪，”汤米说，“极少有人真名叫史密斯。我自己就不认识一个叫史密斯的人。但是那些隐藏真实姓名的人十有八九却用史密斯来代替真名。我准备以此为专题写篇文章。”
这时，他桌上的蜂鸣器小心翼翼地嘟嘟响起来。这意味着塔彭丝要求上场了。汤米，正想吃午饭，对圣文森特先生又不太喜欢，无疑乐于把这儿的处理权拱手相让。
“请原谅。”他说着拿起话筒。
他的面部表情急遽地变化——惊讶，错愕，得意扬扬。
“您不必客气，”他对着话筒说，“首相先生本人？既然如此，我马上就来。”
他挂好听筒，转身面对他的顾客。
“亲爱的先生，我不得不请您原谅。一个紧急命令。您愿意把案件详情向我的机要秘书陈述一下吗，她会妥善处理一切的。”
他疾步走向旁边的房间。
“鲁宾孙小姐。”
塔彭丝轻快地走进汤米办公室，黑发梳理得一丝不苟，衣领和袖口干净整洁，整个人显得干练而娴静。汤米略作介绍后便离开了。
“一位您感兴趣的女士失踪了，我理解，圣文森特先生，”塔彭丝轻柔地一面安抚来客，一面坐下来，拿起布兰特先生的便签本和铅笔，“一位年轻女士？”
“嗯，十分年轻，”圣文森特说，“年轻……呃……呃……非常漂亮，漂亮极了。”
塔彭丝一脸严肃。
“天啊，”她小声道，“但愿——”
“您不会认为她真的发生什么不测了吧？”圣文森特忧心忡忡地问道。
“哦，我们得往好处想，”塔彭丝说，带着假装的高兴语气，这让文森特先生更加觉得惊恐万分。
“哦，听着，鲁宾孙小姐，我请您一定要帮帮我。不惜代价，无论如何，我只求她别出什么事。您看起来十分有同情心，不瞒您说，我对这个女孩倾慕无比。她是个尤物，绝对的尤物。”
“告诉我她的名字和一切有关她的情况。”
“她叫珍妮特，我不知道她的姓。她在一家帽饰店工作——布鲁克大街的奥维莱特夫人帽店。她正直坦率，曾无数次指出我行为上的错误……昨天我去那儿，等她出来……别人都出来了，唯独没有她。接着我得知她那天上午根本没去上班，也没有请假——老奥维莱特夫人对此很生气。我打听到她的住址，就去那儿找她。她前一天晚上也没回家，家里人也不知道她去了哪里。我都要疯了。我想过报警。但是后来一想，珍妮特如果实际上没什么事，如果她只是出走了，我这样做她势必会很生气。然后我想起来，她曾经指着报纸上你们的广告告诉我，一个来店里买帽子的女人热情地夸赞你们的能力和判断力之类的事情，所以我就立刻找到这儿来了。”
“我明白了，”塔彭丝说，“那么她住在哪儿？”
年轻人给了她那个女孩的地址。
“就这样吧，我想，”塔彭丝沉思着，“这就是说——我能这样理解吗，你和这个年轻女孩订婚了？”
圣文森特先生的脸红了。
“噢，不——还没有，我对任何人都未提及此事。但是可以告诉您，一见到她我就会向她求婚，如果还能再见到她的话。”
塔彭丝把便签本放到一边。
“您需要我们提供二十四小时特殊服务吗？”她问道，显得煞有介事。
“什么样的服务？”
“收费双倍，但是我们会投入最精干的人员到这个案子中。圣文森特先生，如果这位女士还活着，我明天这时候就能告诉您她在哪儿。”
“什么？啊，我是说，太好了。”
“我们只雇用专业人员——并且，我们承诺结果。”塔彭丝爽快地说。
“但是，我说，您知道，你们得有最顶尖的人手吧。”
“哦，当然。”塔彭丝说，“另外，您还没有向我们介绍这位年轻女士的特征。”
“她有一头无与伦比的秀发，金黄色的，深厚浓密，好像宜人的晚霞——是的，宜人的晚霞。你知道，以前我从没有发现过晚霞般美好的东西。她又像首诗，这首诗远比我想象的更有韵味。”
“金发，”塔彭丝毫不动情地说，记在便签本上，“这位女士身材怎样？”
“嗯，高挑的身材，一双美极了的眼睛，深蓝色，我想。常带着果断的神情——有时会让男人自惭形秽。”
塔彭丝又写了几个字，然后合上便签本，站起身来。
“如果您明天两点打电话来，我想我们会有好消息给您，”她说，“再会，圣文森特先生。”
等汤米回来，塔彭丝正在查阅一本《德布雷特家谱大全》。
“我已经掌握了详情，”她简洁地说，“劳伦斯•圣文森特是切瑞顿伯爵的侄子和继承人。
我们如果努力破了这个案子，就能在上层人士中打响名号。”
汤米仔细读着便签本上的记录。
“你认为这个女孩究竟出了什么事？”他问。
“我认为，”塔彭丝说，“这个女孩是自愿出走的。她不能自拔地爱上了这个年轻人，为了让自己平静下来，才不得已出走。”
汤米疑惑地看着她。
“我知道书里会这样写，”他说，“但是我从没见过现实生活中哪个女孩会这样做。”
“没有吗？”塔彭丝说，“好吧，也许你说得对，但是我敢说，劳伦斯•圣文森特会完全相信这种说法。另外，我承诺二十四小时出结果——这是我们的特殊服务。”
“塔彭丝——你这个天生的傻瓜，你怎么能这么承诺？”
“突然灵光一现，我觉得这听起来非常专业。不要担心，让妈咪来，妈咪最有办法。”
她出门去，只留下一肚子不满的汤米。
过了一会儿，他站起来，叹了口气，出去看看有什么能做的，同时诅咒着塔彭丝过于活跃的想象力。
四点半他返回办公室，疲惫不堪，精神不振，他发现塔彭丝正从一堆文件夹后面抽出一袋饼干。
“你看起来焦躁不安，”她评论道，“你干什么去了？”
汤米抱怨道：“去了几家医院，看看能不能遇到有那样特征的女孩。”
“我没告诉你让我来吗？”塔彭丝不满地问道。
“你单枪匹马，在明天两点前是找不到那个女孩的。”
“我能——更确切地说，我已经找到了！”
“已经找到了？！你在说什么？”
“小菜一碟，华生，很简单。”
“那她现在哪儿？”
塔彭丝伸手指指身后。
“她就在你隔壁的办公室里。”
“她在那儿干什么？”
塔彭丝不禁大笑起来。
“好了，”她说，“俗话说，早做准备方可万无一失。她正在摆弄那把壶，那个煤气炉和半磅茶，这个结果早就预料到了。”
“你知道，”塔彭丝继续柔声地说，“我去奥维莱特夫人商店买帽子，几天前我遇到了一个女孩，她是我过去在医院工作时的老相识，战后她不再做护士，开了一家帽店，后来自己的店倒闭，就在奥维莱特夫人帽店找了份工作。是我们两个筹划的整个事件。她故意反复提到我们的那个广告，让圣文森特铭记在心，然后就离家出走。这便是布兰特卓越侦探所的完美业绩。既为我们做了宣传，也给了圣文森特必要的刺激，促使他求婚，不然珍妮特对此简直要心灰意冷了。”
“塔彭丝，”汤米说，“你简直让我大吃一惊！这整个事情是我听到过的最不道德的生意，你帮助并诱迫这个年轻人去娶一个门不当、户不对的姑娘——”
“够了，”塔彭丝打断他，“珍妮特是个极好的女孩——但让人想不明白的是，这个女孩居然真的倾心于那个软脚蟹。你一眼就能看出他那个家族缺少什么，那就是新鲜的血液。
珍妮特将会让他重生。她会像妈妈一样照顾他，让他放下鸡尾酒，离开夜总会，让他过上正常健康的乡村绅士的生活。好了，来见见她吧。”
塔彭丝打开隔壁办公室的门，汤米紧随其后。
一个高个儿女孩，赤褐色头发，愉快的脸庞，放下手中热气腾腾的壶，微笑着转过身来，露出一排整齐洁白的牙齿。
“希望您会原谅我，考利护士——贝雷斯福德夫人，我应该这样称呼您。我想您可能会需要一杯茶。以前在医院工作的时候，每天凌晨三点，您都会给我煮壶茶。”
“汤米，”塔彭丝说，“让我来给你介绍我的老朋友，史密斯护士。”
“史密斯，你是说史密斯？多么奇怪！”汤米说道，摆摆手，“不是吗？哦，没什么——我正打算写一篇小专题文章。”
“振作精神，汤米。”塔彭丝说。
她倒给他一杯茶。
“现在，那么，我们举起杯来，为国际侦探所干杯！布兰特卓越侦探所！祝它无往不胜！”
[1]即中央刑事法院（Central Cniminal Courot），位于英国伦敦，通常以所在街道称为老贝利，负责处理英格兰和威尔士的重大刑事案件。
Three THE AFFAIR OF THE PINK PEARL（1）
Three THE AFFAIR OF THE PINK PEARL

“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Tuppence, as she entered theinner sanctum of the International Detective Agency—(Slogan—Blunt’sBrilliant Detectives) and discovered her lord and master prone on thefloor in a sea of books.
Tommy struggled to his feet.
“I was trying to arrange these books on the top shelf of that cupboard,”
he complained. “And the damned chair gave way.”
“What are they, anyway?” asked Tuppence, picking up a volume. “TheHound of the Baskervilles. I wouldn’t mind reading that again some time.”
“You see the idea?” said Tommy, dusting himself with care. “Half hourswith the Great Masters—that sort of thing. You see, Tuppence, I can’t helpfeeling that we are more or less amateurs at this business—of course ama-teurs in one sense we cannot help being, but it would do no harm to ac-quire the technique, so to speak. These books are detective stories by theleading masters of the art. I intend to try different styles, and compare res-ults.”
“H’m,” said Tuppence. “I often wonder how these detectives would havegot on in real life.” She picked up another volume. “You’ll find a difficultyin being a Thorndyke. You’ve no medical experience, and less legal, and Inever heard that science was your strong point.”
“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But at any rate I’ve bought a very goodcamera, and I shall photograph footprints and enlarge the negatives andall that sort of thing. Now, mon ami, use your little grey cells—what doesthis convey to you?”
He pointed to the bottom shelf of the cupboard. On it lay a somewhat fu-turistic dressing gown, a turkish slipper, and a violin.
“Obvious, my dear Watson,” said Tuppence.
“Exactly,” said Tommy. “The Sherlock Holmes touch.”
He took up the violin and drew the bow idly across the strings, causingTuppence to give a wail of agony.
At that moment the buzzer rang on the desk, a sign that a client had ar-rived in the outer office and was being held in parley by Albert, the officeboy.
Tommy hastily replaced the violin in the cupboard and kicked the booksbehind the desk.
“Not that there’s any great hurry,” he remarked. “Albert will be handingthem out the stuff about my being engaged with Scotland Yard on thephone. Get into your office and start typing, Tuppence. It makes the officesound busy and active. No, on second thoughts you shall be taking notes inshorthand from my dictation. Let’s have a look before we get Albert tosend the victim in.”
They approached the peephole which had been artistically contrived soas to command a view of the outer office.
The client was a girl of about Tuppence’s age, tall and dark with a ratherhaggard face and scornful eyes.
“Clothes cheap and striking,” remarked Tuppence. “Have her in,Tommy.”
In another minute the girl was shaking hands with the celebrated Mr.
Blunt, whilst Tuppence sat by with eyes demurely downcast, and pad andpencil in hand.
“My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Mr. Blunt with a waveof his hand. “You may speak freely before her.” Then he lay back for aminute, half-closed his eyes and remarked in a tired tone: “You must findtravelling in a bus very crowded at this time of day.”
“I came in a taxi,” said the girl.
“Oh!” said Tommy aggrieved. His eyes rested reproachfully on a bluebus ticket protruding from her glove. The girl’s eyes followed his glance,and she smiled and drew it out.
“You mean this? I picked it up on the pavement. A little neighbour ofours collects them.”
Tuppence coughed, and Tommy threw a baleful glare at her.
“We must get to business,” he said briskly. “You are in need of our ser-vices, Miss—?”
“Kingston Bruce is my name,” said the girl. “We live at Wimbledon. Lastnight a lady who is staying with us lost a valuable pink pearl. Mr. St. Vin-cent was also dining with us, and during dinner he happened to mentionyour firm. My mother sent me off to you this morning to ask you if youwould look into the matter for us.”
The girl spoke sullenly, almost disagreeably. It was clear as daylight thatshe and her mother had not agreed over the matter. She was here underprotest.
“I see,” said Tommy, a little puzzled. “You have not called in the police?”
“No,” said Miss Kingston Bruce, “we haven’t. It would be idiotic to call inthe police and then find the silly thing had rolled under the fireplace, orsomething like that.”
“Oh!” said Tommy. “Then the jewel may only be lost after all?”
Miss Kingston Bruce shrugged her shoulders.
“People make such a fuss about things,” she murmured. Tommy clearedhis throat.
“Of course,” he said doubtfully. “I am extremely busy just now—”
“I quite understand,” said the girl, rising to her feet. There was a quickgleam of satisfaction in her eyes which Tuppence, for one, did not miss.
“Nevertheless,” continued Tommy. “I think I can manage to run down toWimbledon. Will you give me the address, please?”
“The Laurels, Edgeworth Road.”
“Make a note of it, please, Miss Robinson.”
Miss Kingston Bruce hesitated, then said rather ungraciously.
“We’ll expect you then. Good morning.”
“Funny girl,” said Tommy when she had left. “I couldn’t quite make herout.”
“I wonder if she stole the thing herself,” remarked Tuppence meditat-ively. “Come on, Tommy, let’s put away these books and take the car andgo down there. By the way, who are you going to be, Sherlock Holmesstill?”
“I think I need practice for that,” said Tommy. “I came rather a cropperover that bus ticket, didn’t I?”
“You did,” said Tuppence. “If I were you I shouldn’t try too much on thatgirl—she’s as sharp as a needle. She’s unhappy too, poor devil.”
“I suppose you know all about her already,” said Tommy with sarcasm,“simply from looking at the shape of her nose!”
“I’ll tell you my idea of what we shall find at The Laurels,” said Tup-pence, quite unmoved. “A household of snobs, very keen to move in thebest society; the father, if there is a father, is sure to have a military title.
The girl falls in with their way of life and despises herself for doing so.”
Tommy took a last look at the books now neatly arranged upon theshelf.
“I think,” he said thoughtfully, “that I shall be Thorndyke today.”
“I shouldn’t have thought there was anything medico-legal about thiscase,” remarked Tuppence.
“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But I’m simply dying to use that new cam-era of mine! It’s supposed to have the most marvellous lens that ever wasor could be.”
“I know those kind of lenses,” said Tuppence. “By the time you’ve adjus-ted the shutter and stopped down and calculated the exposure and keptyour eye on the spirit level, your brain gives out, and you yearn for thesimple Brownie.”
“Only an unambitious soul is content with the simple Brownie.”
“Well, I bet I shall get better results with it than you will.”
Tommy ignored the challenge.
“I ought to have a ‘Smoker’s Companion,’ ” he said regretfully. “I wonderwhere one buys them?”
“There’s always the patent corkscrew Aunt Araminta gave you lastChristmas,” said Tuppence helpfully.
“That’s true,” said Tommy. “A curious-looking engine of destruction Ithought it at the time, and rather a humorous present to get from a strictlyteetotal aunt.”
“I,” said Tuppence, “shall be Polton.”
Tommy looked at her scornfully.
“Polton indeed. You couldn’t begin to do one of the things that he does.”
“Yes, I can,” said Tuppence. “I can rub my hands together when I’mpleased. That’s quite enough to get on with. I hope you’re going to takeplaster casts of footprints?”
Tommy was reduced to silence. Having collected the corkscrew theywent round to the garage, got out the car and started for Wimbledon.
The Laurels was a big house. It ran somewhat to gables and turrets, hadan air of being very newly painted and was surrounded with neat flowerbeds filled with scarlet geraniums.
A tall man with a close-cropped white moustache, and an exaggeratedlymartial bearing opened the door before Tommy had time to ring.
“I’ve been looking out for you,” he explained fussily. “Mr. Blunt, is itnot? I am Colonel Kingston Bruce. Will you come into my study?”
He let them into a small room at the back of the house.
“Young St. Vincent was telling me wonderful things about your firm.
I’ve noticed your advertisements myself. This guaranteed twenty- fourhours’ service of yours—a marvellous notion. That’s exactly what I need.”
Inwardly anathematising Tuppence for her irresponsibility in inventingthis brilliant detail, Tommy replied: “Just so, Colonel.”
“The whole thing is most distressing, sir, most distressing.”
“Perhaps you would kindly give me the facts,” said Tommy, with a hintof impatience.
“Certainly I will—at once. We have at the present moment staying withus a very old and dear friend of ours, Lady Laura Barton. Daughter of thelate Earl of Carrowway. The present earl, her brother, made a strikingspeech in the House of Lords the other day. As I say, she is an old and dearfriend of ours. Some American friends of mine who have just come over,the Hamilton Betts, were most anxious to meet her. ‘Nothing easier,’ I said.
‘She is staying with me now. Come down for the weekend.’ You knowwhat Americans are about titles, Mr. Blunt.”
“And others beside Americans sometimes, Colonel Kingston Bruce.”
“Alas! only too true, my dear sir. Nothing I hate more than a snob. Well,as I was saying, the Betts came down for the weekend. Last night—wewere playing bridge at the time—the clasp of a pendant Mrs. HamiltonBetts was wearing broke, so she took it off and laid it down on a smalltable, meaning to take it upstairs with her when she went. This, however,she forgot to do. I must explain, Mr. Blunt, that the pendant consisted oftwo small diamond wings, and a big pink pearl depending from them. Thependant was found this morning lying where Mrs. Betts had left it, but thepearl, a pearl of enormous value, had been wrenched off.”
“Who found the pendant?”
“The parlourmaid—Gladys Hill.”
“Any reason to suspect her?”
“She has been with us some years, and we have always found her per-fectly honest. But, of course, one never knows—”
“Exactly. Will you describe your staff, and also tell me who was presentat dinner last night?”
“There is the cook—she has been with us only two months, but then shewould have no occasion to go near the drawing room—the same applies tothe kitchenmaid. Then there is the housemaid, Alice Cummings. She alsohas been with us for some years. And Lady Laura’s maid, of course. She isFrench.”
Colonel Kingston Bruce looked very impressive as he said this. Tommy,unaffected by the revelation of the maid’s nationality, said: “Exactly. Andthe party at dinner?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Betts, ourselves — my wife and daughter — and LadyLaura. Young St. Vincent was dining with us, and Mr. Rennie looked inafter dinner for a while.”
“Who is Mr. Rennie?”
“A most pestilential fellow—an arrant socialist. Good looking, of course,and with a certain specious power of argument. But a man, I don’t mindtelling you, whom I wouldn’t trust a yard. A dangerous sort of fellow.”
“In fact,” said Tommy drily, “it is Mr. Rennie whom you suspect?”
“I do, Mr. Blunt. I’m sure, holding the views he does, that he can have noprinciples whatsoever. What could have been easier for him than to havequietly wrenched off the pearl at a moment when we were all absorbed inour game? There were several absorbing moments — a redoubled notrump hand, I remember, and also a painful argument when my wife hadthe misfortune to revoke.”
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “I should just like to know one thing—what isMrs. Betts’s attitude in all this?”
“She wanted me to call in the police,” said Colonel Kingston Bruce re-luctantly. “That is, when we had searched everywhere in case the pearlhad only dropped off.”
“But you dissuaded her?”
“I was very averse to the idea of publicity and my wife and daughterbacked me up. Then my wife remembered young St. Vincent speakingabout your firm at dinner last night—and the twenty-four hours’ specialservice.”
“Yes,” said Tommy, with a heavy heart.
“You see, in any case, no harm will be done. If we call in the police to-morrow, it can be supposed that we thought the jewel merely lost andwere hunting for it. By the way, nobody has been allowed to leave thehouse this morning.”
“Except your daughter, of course,” said Tuppence, speaking for the firsttime.
“Except my daughter,” agreed the Colonel. “She volunteered at once togo and put the case before you.”
Tommy rose.
“We will do our best to give you satisfaction, Colonel,” he said. “I shouldlike to see the drawing room, and the table on which the pendant was laiddown. I should also like to ask Mrs. Betts a few questions. After that, I willinterview the servants—or rather my assistant, Miss Robinson, will do so.”
He felt his nerve quailing before the terrors of questioning the servants.
Colonel Kingston Bruce threw open the door and led them across thehall. As he did so, a remark came to them clearly through the open door ofthe room they were approaching and the voice that uttered it was that ofthe girl who had come to see them that morning.
“You know perfectly well, Mother,” she was saying, “that she did bringhome a teaspoon in her muff.”
In another minute they were being introduced to Mrs. Kingston Bruce, aplaintive lady with a languid manner. Miss Kingston Bruce acknowledgedtheir presence with a short inclination of the head. Her face was more sul-len than ever.
Mrs. Kingston Bruce was voluble.
“—but I know who I think took it,” she ended. “That dreadful socialistyoung man. He loves the Russians and the Germans and hates the English—what else can you expect?”
“He never touched it,” said Miss Kingston Bruce fiercely. “I was watch-ing him—all the time. I couldn’t have failed to see if he had.”
She looked at them defiantly with her chin up.
Tommy created a diversion by asking for an interview with Mrs. Betts.
When Mrs. Kingston Bruce had departed accompanied by her husbandand daughter to find Mrs. Betts, he whistled thoughtfully.
“I wonder,” he said gently, “who it was who had a teaspoon in hermuff?”
“Just what I was thinking,” replied Tuppence.
Mrs. Betts, followed by her husband, burst into the room. She was a bigwoman with a determined voice. Mr. Hamilton Betts looked dyspeptic andsubdued.
“I understand, Mr. Blunt, that you are a private inquiry agent, and onewho hustles things through at a great rate?”
“Hustle,” said Tommy, “is my middle name, Mrs. Betts. Let me ask you afew questions.”
Thereafter things proceeded rapidly. Tommy was shown the damagedpendant, the table on which it had lain, and Mr. Betts emerged from his ta-citurnity to mention the value, in dollars, of the stolen pearl.
And withal, Tommy felt an irritating certainty that he was not gettingon.
“I think that will do,” he said, at length. “Miss Robinson, will you kindlyfetch the special photographic apparatus from the hall?”
Miss Robinson complied.
“A little invention of my own,” said Tommy. “In appearance, you see, itis just like an ordinary camera.”
He had some slight satisfaction in seeing that the Betts were impressed.
He photographed the pendant, the table on which it had lain, and tookseveral general views of the apartment. Then “Miss Robinson” was deleg-ated to interview the servants, and in view of the eager expectancy on thefaces of Colonel Kingston Bruce and Mrs. Betts, Tommy felt called upon tosay a few authoritative words.
“The position amounts to this,” he said. “Either the pearl is still in thehouse, or it is not still in the house.”
“Quite so,” said the Colonel with more respect than was, perhaps, quitejustified by the nature of the remark.
“If it is not in the house, it may be anywhere—but if it is in the house, itmust necessarily be concealed somewhere—”
“And a search must be made,” broke in Colonel Kingston Bruce. “Quiteso. I give you carte blanche, Mr. Blunt. Search the house from attic to cel-lar.”
“Oh! Charles,” murmured Mrs. Kingston Bruce tearfully, “do you thinkthat is wise? The servants won’t like it. I’m sure they’ll leave.”
“We will search their quarters last,” said Tommy soothingly. “The thiefis sure to have hidden the gem in the most unlikely place.”
“I seem to have read something of the kind,” agreed the Colonel.
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “You probably remember the case of Rex vBailey, which created a precedent.”
“Oh—er—yes,” said the Colonel, looking puzzled.
“Now, the most unlikely place is in the apartment of Mrs. Betts,” contin-ued Tommy.
“My! Wouldn’t that be too cute?” said Mrs. Betts admiringly.
Without more ado she took him up to her room, where Tommy oncemore made use of the special photographic apparatus.
Presently Tuppence joined him there.
“You have no objection, I hope, Mrs. Betts, to my assistant’s lookingthrough your wardrobe?”
“Why, not at all. Do you need me here any longer?”
Tommy assured her that there was no need to detain her, and Mrs. Bettsdeparted.
“We might as well go on bluffing it out,” said Tommy. “But personally Idon’t believe we’ve a dog’s chance of finding the thing. Curse you and yourtwenty-four hours’ stunt, Tuppence.”
“Listen,” said Tuppence. “The servants are all right, I’m sure, but I man-aged to get something out of the French maid. It seems that when LadyLaura was staying here a year ago, she went out to tea with some friendsof the Kingston Bruces, and when she got home a teaspoon fell out of hermuff. Everyone thought it must have fallen in by accident. But, talkingabout similar robberies, I got hold of a lot more. Lady Laura is alwaysstaying about with people. She hasn’t got a bean, I gather, and she’s out forcomfortable quarters with people to whom a title still means something. Itmay be a coincidence — or it may be something more, but five distinctthefts have taken place whilst she has been staying in various houses,sometimes trivial things, sometimes valuable jewels.”
“Whew!” said Tommy, and gave vent to a prolonged whistle. “Where’sthe old bird’s room, do you know?”
“Just across the passage.”
“Then I think, I rather think, that we’ll just slip across and investigate.”
The room opposite stood with its door ajar. It was a spacious apartment,with white enamelled fitments and rose pink curtains. An inner door ledto a bathroom. At the door of this appeared a slim, dark girl, very neatlydressed.
Tuppence checked the exclamation of astonishment on the girl’s lips.
“This is Elise, Mr. Blunt,” she said primly. “Lady Laura’s maid.”
Tommy stepped across the threshold of the bathroom, and approved in-wardly its sumptuous and up-to-date fittings. He set to work to dispel thewide stare of suspicion on the French girl’s face.
“You are busy with your duties, eh, Mademoiselle Elise?”
“Yes, Monsieur, I clean Milady’s bath.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll help me with some photography instead. I have aspecial kind of camera here, and I am photographing the interiors of allthe rooms in this house.”
He was interrupted by the communicating door to the bedroom bangingsuddenly behind him. Elise jumped at the sound.
“What did that?”
“It must have been the wind,” said Tuppence.
“We will come into the other room,” said Tommy.
Elise went to open the door for them, but the door knob rattled aim-lessly.
“What’s the matter?” said Tommy sharply.
“Ah, Monsieur, but somebody must have locked it on the other side.”
She caught up a towel and tried again. But this time the door handleturned easily enough, and the door swung open.
“Voilà ce qui est curieux. It must have been stuck,” said Elise.
There was no one in the bedroom.
Tommy fetched his apparatus. Tuppence and Elise worked under his or-ders. But again and again his glance went back to the communicatingdoor.
“I wonder,” he said between his teeth—“I wonder why that door stuck?”
He examined it minutely, shutting and opening it. It fitted perfectly.
“One picture more,” he said with a sigh. “Will you loop back that rosecurtain, Mademoiselle Elise? Thank you. Just hold it so.”
The familiar click occurred. He handed a glass slide to Elise to hold, re-linquished the tripod to Tuppence, and carefully readjusted and closed thecamera.
He made some easy excuse to get rid of Elise, and as soon as she was outof the room, he caught hold of Tuppence and spoke rapidly.
“Look here, I’ve got an idea. Can you hang on here? Search all the rooms—that will take some time. Try and get an interview with the old bird—Lady Laura—but don’t alarm her. Tell her you suspect the parlourmaid.
But whatever you do don’t let her leave the house. I’m going off in the car.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“All right,” said Tuppence. “But don’t be too cocksure. You’ve forgottenone thing.
“The girl. There’s something funny about that girl. Listen, I’ve found outthe time she started from the house this morning. It took her two hours toget to our office. That’s nonsense. Where did she go before she came tous?”
“There’s something in that,” admitted her husband. “Well, follow up anyold clue you like, but don’t let Lady Laura leave the house. What’s that?”
His quick ear had caught a faint rustle outside on the landing. He strodeacross to the door, but there was no one to be seen.
“Well, so long,” he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Three THE AFFAIR OF THE PINK PEARL（2）
II
Tuppence watched him drive off in the car with a faint misgiving.
Tommy was very sure—she herself was not so sure. There were one ortwo things she did not quite understand.
She was still standing by the window, watching the road, when she sawa man leave the shelter of a gateway opposite, cross the road and ring thebell.
In a flash Tuppence was out of the room and down the stairs. GladysHill, the parlourmaid, was emerging from the back part of the house, butTuppence motioned her back authoritatively. Then she went to the frontdoor and opened it.
A lanky young man with ill- fitting clothes and eager dark eyes wasstanding on the step.
He hesitated a moment, and then said:
“Is Miss Kingston Bruce in?”
“Will you come inside?” said Tuppence.
She stood aside to let him enter, closing the door.
“Mr. Rennie, I think?” she said sweetly.
He shot a quick glance at her.
“Er—yes.”
“Will you come in here, please?”
She opened the study door. The room was empty, and Tuppence enteredit after him, closing the door behind her. He turned on her with a frown.
“I want to see Miss Kingston Bruce.”
“I am not quite sure that you can,” said Tuppence composedly.
“Look here, who the devil are you?” said Mr. Rennie rudely.
“International Detective Agency,” said Tuppence succinctly — and no-ticed Mr. Rennie’s uncontrollable start.
“Please sit down, Mr. Rennie,” she went on. “To begin with, we know allabout Miss Kingston Bruce’s visit to you this morning.”
It was a bold guess, but it succeeded. Perceiving his consternation, Tup-pence went on quickly.
“The recovery of the pearl is the great thing, Mr. Rennie. No one in thishouse is anxious for—publicity. Can’t we come to some arrangement?”
The young man looked at her keenly.
“I wonder how much you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Let me think fora moment.”
He buried his head in his hands—then asked a most unexpected ques-tion.
“I say, is it really true that young St. Vincent is engaged to be married?”
“Quite true,” said Tuppence. “I know the girl.”
Mr. Rennie suddenly became confidential.
“It’s been hell,” he confided. “They’ve been asking her morning, noonand night—chucking Beatrice at his head. All because he’ll come into atitle some day. If I had my way—”
“Don’t let’s talk politics,” said Tuppence hastily. “Do you mind tellingme, Mr. Rennie, why you think Miss Kingston Bruce took the pearl?”
“I—I don’t.”
“You do,” said Tuppence calmly. “You wait to see the detective, as youthink, drive off and the coast clear, and then you come and ask for her. It’sobvious.If you’d taken the pearl yourself, you wouldn’t be half so upset.”
“Her manner was so odd,” said the young man. “She came this morningand told me about the robbery, explaining that she was on her way to afirm of private detectives. She seemed anxious to say something, and yetnot able to get it out.”
“Well,” said Tuppence. “All I want is the pearl. You’d better go and talkto her.”
But at that moment Colonel Kingston Bruce opened the door.
“Lunch is ready, Miss Robinson. You will lunch with us, I hope. The—”
Then he stopped and glared at the guest.
“Clearly,” said Mr. Rennie, “you don’t want to ask me to lunch. All right,I’ll go.”
“Come back later,” whispered Tuppence, as he passed her.
Tuppence followed Colonel Kingston Bruce, still growling into his mous-tache about the pestilential impudence of some people, into a massive din-ing room where the family was already assembled. Only one personpresent was unknown to Tuppence.
“This, Lady Laura, is Miss Robinson, who is kindly assisting us.”
Lady Laura bent her head, and then proceeded to stare at Tuppencethrough her pince-nez. She was a tall, thin woman, with a sad smile, agentle voice, and very hard shrewd eyes. Tuppence returned her stare,and Lady Laura’s eyes dropped.
After lunch Lady Laura entered into conversation with an air of gentlecuriosity. How was the inquiry proceeding? Tuppence laid suitable stresson the suspicion attaching to the parlourmaid, but her mind was not reallyon Lady Laura. Lady Laura might conceal teaspoons and other articles inher clothing, but Tuppence felt fairly sure that she had not taken the pinkpearl.
Presently Tuppence proceeded with her search of the house. Time wasgoing on. There was no sign of Tommy, and, what mattered far more toTuppence, there was no sign of Mr. Rennie. Suddenly Tuppence came outof a bedroom and collided with Beatrice Kingston Bruce, who was goingdownstairs. She was fully-dressed for the street.
“I’m afraid,” said Tuppence, “that you mustn’t go out just now.”
The other girl looked at her haughtily.
“Whether I go out or not is no business of yours,” she said coldly.
“It is my business whether I communicate with the police or not,though,” said Tuppence.
In a minute the girl had turned ashy pale.
“You mustn’t—you mustn’t—I won’t go out—but don’t do that.” Sheclung to Tuppence beseechingly.
“My dear Miss Kingston Bruce,” said Tuppence, smiling, “the case hasbeen perfectly clear to me from the start—I—”
But she was interrupted. In the stress of her encounter with the girl,Tuppence had not heard the front doorbell. Now, to her astonishment,Tommy came bounding up the stairs, and in the hall below she caughtsight of a big burly man in the act of removing a bowler hat.
“Detective Inspector Marriot of Scotland Yard,” he said with a grin.
With a cry, Beatrice Kingston Bruce tore herself from Tuppence’s graspand dashed down the stairs, just as the front door was opened once moreto admit Mr. Rennie.
“Now you have torn it,” said Tuppence bitterly.
“Eh?” said Tommy, hurrying into Lady Laura’s room. He passed on intothe bathroom and picked up a large cake of soap which he brought out inhis hands. The Inspector was just mounting the stairs.
“She went quite quietly,” he announced. “She’s an old hand and knowswhen the game is up. What about the pearl?”
“I rather fancy,” said Tommy, handing him the soap, “that you’ll find itin here.”
The Inspector’s eyes lit up appreciatively.
“An old trick, and a good one. Cut a cake of soap in half, scoop out aplace for the jewel, clap it together again, and smooth the join well overwith hot water. A very smart piece of work on your part, sir.”
Tommy accepted the compliment gracefully. He and Tuppence descen-ded the stairs. Colonel Kingston Bruce rushed at him and shook himwarmly by the hand.
“My dear sir, I can’t thank you enough. Lady Laura wants to thank youalso—”
“I am glad we have given you satisfaction,” said Tommy. “But I’m afraidI can’t stop. I have a most urgent appointment. Member of the Cabinet.”
He hurried out to the car and jumped in. Tuppence jumped in besidehim.
“But Tommy,” she cried. “Haven’t they arrested Lady Laura after all?”
“Oh!” said Tommy. “Didn’t I tell you? They’ve not arrested Lady Laura.
They’ve arrested Elise.”
“You see,” he went on, as Tuppence sat dumbfounded, “I’ve often triedto open a door with soap on my hands myself. It can’t be done—yourhands slip. So I wondered what Elise could have been doing with the soapto get her hands as soapy as all that. She caught up a towel, you remem-ber, so there were no traces of soap on the handle afterwards. But it oc-curred to me that if you were a professional thief, it wouldn’t be a badplan to be maid to a lady suspected of kleptomania who stayed about agood deal in different houses. So I managed to get a photo of her as well asof the room, induced her to handle a glass slide and toddled off to dear oldScotland Yard. Lightning development of negative, successful identifica-tion of fingerprints—and photo. Elise was a long lost friend. Useful place,Scotland Yard.”
“And to think,” said Tuppence, finding her voice, “that those two youngidiots were only suspecting each other in that weak way they do it inbooks. But why didn’t you tell me what you were up to when you wentoff?”
“In the first place, I suspected that Elise was listening on the landing,and in the second place—”
“Yes?”
“My learned friend forgets,” said Tommy. “Thorndyke never tells untilthe last moment. Besides, Tuppence, you and your pal Janet Smith put oneover on me last time. This makes us all square.”
第三章 粉色珍珠绯闻（1）
第三章 粉色珍珠绯闻
1“你到底在做什么？”塔彭丝问道，她正走进“国际侦探所”（注——布兰特卓越侦探所）里面的密室，发现她的老板正趴在地板上的一大堆书上。
汤米挣扎着站起来。
“我正要把这些书整理到那个橱柜顶上，”他抱怨道，“该死的椅子却散了架。”
“什么书，到底？”塔彭丝问道，随手拿起一本来，“《巴斯克维尔的猎犬》。有空时我还想再读一遍。”
“你读明白了吗？”汤米说，仔细地拍打着身上的尘土，“追随大师的日日夜夜之类的故事。你看，塔彭丝，我不得不承认我们在这个行当里或多或少是业余水平——当然，从某种意义上来说，连业余水平都够不上。但是艺多不压身。这些都是卓越的侦探大师的侦探小说，我想尝试他们不同的探案风格，看看会有什么不同结果。”
“嗯，”塔彭丝说，“我常常琢磨，这些侦探在现实生活中是什么样呢？”她拿起另一本，“成为桑代克博士 [1] 可不是件容易的事，你没有医学经验，法律方面的更没有，我也从没听说过科学是你的强项。”
“不会吧，”汤米说，“但不管怎样，我买了一架很好的照相机，我可以拍下脚印，放大影像，诸如此类。现在，我的朋友 [2] ，用用你那小小的灰色细胞，对这些东西怎么看？”
他指着橱柜底层，那儿安静地躺着一件前卫的晨衣，一双土耳其拖鞋，一架小提琴。
“这不是明摆着吗？我亲爱的华生。”塔彭丝说。
“准确地说，”汤米说，“是歇洛克•福尔摩斯的范儿。”
他拿起小提琴，随意地拨了一下琴弦，刺耳的声音让塔彭丝难以忍受地叫了一声。
这时，桌上的蜂鸣器响了，这表明外面的办公室来了顾客。阿尔伯特，那个办公室助理，正在应付他。
汤米迅速把小提琴放回橱柜，把书一脚踢到桌子后面。
“不用那么着急，”他说，“阿尔伯特会施展伎俩拖住他们，说我正在给苏格兰场通电话。去你的办公室，立刻开始打字，塔彭丝。让办公室显得繁忙而有活力些。不，还是当速记员，正在记录我的指令。在阿尔伯特把那个猎物带进来之前，我们先来看看来者何人。”
他们凑近窥视孔，这个窥视孔设计得十分巧妙，可以一览无余地看到外面办公室。
来客是位姑娘，和塔彭丝年龄相仿，高个儿，黝黑，脸庞憔悴，眼神桀骜不羁。
“衣着简朴，但引人注目，”塔彭丝评价道，“让她进来，汤米。”
一分钟后，这个女孩就和大名鼎鼎的布兰特先生握手了，而这时，塔彭丝则坐在旁边，故作端庄地低垂着眼睛，手中拿着便签本和铅笔。
“我的机要秘书，鲁宾孙小姐，”布兰特先生挥了挥手，“您不用顾忌。”然后他向后靠在椅背上，半闭着眼睛，用疲倦的语气说，“这个点儿乘坐公交车来这儿，得有多么拥挤啊。”
“我坐出租车来的。”这个姑娘说。
“噢。”汤米愤愤不平地说，他的目光落在她手套中露出来的那张蓝色车票上。这个女孩顺着他的目光看去，然后笑了，抽出那张车票。
“您是说这个？我在人行道上捡到的。我们隔壁的一个小朋友收集这东西。”
塔彭丝咳嗽了一声，汤米给了她一个不满的白眼。
“我们言归正传吧，”他尖刻地说，“您需要我们的服务，是吗——小姐？”
“我叫金斯敦•布鲁斯，”女孩说，“我们住在温布尔顿。昨晚，和我们一起吃晚餐的一位夫人丢了一颗昂贵的粉色珍珠。圣文森特先生当时也在现场，餐桌上，他偶然提到了你们侦探所。今天上午我母亲让我过来，请你们查清这件事。”
女孩情绪低落，甚至可以说很不愉快。显然，她和她母亲在这件事情上没有达成一致，她老大不乐意才来的这里。
“我明白了，”汤米说，有点困惑，“您还没有报警？”
“没有，”金斯敦•布鲁斯小姐说，“我们没有那样做。要是发现那东西滚到壁炉下面，或者别的什么地方，报警就太愚蠢了。”
“哦！”汤米说，“说不定那颗珠宝只是丢失了呢？”
金斯敦•布鲁斯耸了耸肩膀。
“人们总是小题大做。”她嘟囔着。汤米清了清喉咙。
“当然，”他含糊地说，“我现在非常忙——”
“我十分理解。”这个女孩说，站起身来。塔彭丝注意到她的眼睛里闪过一丝如释重负的神情。
“但是，”汤米接下来说，“我想我还是能抽出时间去趟温布尔顿。您能给我地址吗？”
“埃奇沃思大道月桂树府邸。”
“请记下来，鲁宾孙小姐。”
金斯敦•布鲁斯小姐犹豫了一下，然后很不礼貌地说：“那么我们恭候您的大驾，再见。”
“古怪的女孩，”等她离开后，汤米说，“我几乎看不透她。”
“我怀疑就是她偷了那东西，”塔彭丝沉思道，“来，汤米，我们赶紧把书收好，开车去那儿看看。顺便问一下，你要扮演谁，还是神探歇洛克•福尔摩斯？”
“我想我还需要锻炼一下，”汤米说，“我刚才在那张汽车票上栽了跟头，不是吗？”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“如果我是你，就不会在那个女孩面前一试身手——她像只刺猬一样浑身是刺，还很不高兴，唉，可怜的姑娘。”
“我想你已经对她了如指掌，”汤米挖苦地说，“只凭她鼻子的形状。”
“我来告诉你咱们将会在月桂树府邸发现什么，”塔彭丝说，丝毫也不顾忌汤米的情绪，“一屋子势利小人，一心想挤入上流社会；那父亲，如果有一个父亲的话，一定有一个军衔。女儿不得不重蹈他们的生活方式，而她鄙视这样的生活。”
汤米最后看了一眼那些书，此时它们已经被整齐地排放在了书架上。
“我想，”他沉思着说，“我今天就要当一回桑代克博士了。”
“我没有看出这个案子涉及什么法医方面的东西。”塔彭丝说。
“可能没有，”汤米说，“但我只是急于要用一用我的照相机！它将被证明拥有迄今为止最好的镜头。”
“我知道那类镜头，”塔彭丝说，“当你调好快门，缩小光圈，开始倒计时，大家把注意力集中到一点，人人都灵魂出窍，嘴里只是喊着‘茄子’。”
“只有那些毫无追求的人才会只满足于喊‘茄子’。”
“嗯，我打赌，我用它照出的效果会比你照的更好。”
汤米对她的挑战毫不理会。
“我应该有个‘烟鬼的同伴’开瓶器，”他有些遗憾地说，“不知在哪儿能买到？”
“那不正是阿拉敏姑姑上个圣诞节送给你的专利开瓶器。”塔彭丝热心地说。
“确实，”汤米说，“那时我认为它是一个怪模怪样的破坏性工具，一个严格的禁酒主义姑妈把它作为礼物送给我，真是太好笑了。”
“我，”塔彭丝说，“将成为波顿大师。”
汤米有些轻蔑地看着她。
“波顿，确实不一般，而你不及他万一。”
“不，我能，”塔彭丝说，“我高兴时会不由得搓手。这就表明可以继续干下去。我倒是希望你会采集到石膏脚印。”
汤米不说话了。他们去车库拿了开瓶器，出门发动车子，向温布尔顿疾驶而去。
月桂树是一座大房子，一道道山墙蜿蜒曲折，延伸至角楼，空气中弥漫着新油漆的味道，四周环绕着整齐的花圃，里面盛开着朱红色的天竺葵。
汤米还没来得及按门铃，一个高个子男人，留着白色小胡子，以一种夸张的军人姿势，打开了门。
“我一直在恭候您的光临，”他夸张地解释道，“布兰特先生，是不是？我是金斯敦•布鲁斯上校，请随我来书房。”
他把他们引进了房子后面的一个小房间内。
“小圣文森特告诉我贵侦探所的辉煌业绩，我自己也留意过你们的广告。这个二十四小时承诺结果的特殊服务是一个了不起的新概念。这正是我需要的。”
汤米心里狠狠诅咒着塔彭丝这个不靠谱的新点子，嘴里却回答道：“承蒙夸奖，上校。”
“整件事太令人烦恼了，先生，确实令人烦恼。”
“或许您愿意告诉我们事件的经过。”汤米说，带着一丝不耐烦。
“当然——马上。当时我们请一位亲密的老朋友——罗拉•巴顿夫人来家里做客，她是已故的克拉韦伯爵的女儿。现任伯爵，她哥哥，曾经在上议院做了一次著名的演讲。正如我刚才所说，她是我们一位亲密的朋友。我的几位美国朋友要来做客，哈密尔顿•贝茨一家，他们渴望见到她。‘这还不容易，’我说，‘她就在我们家，你们来度周末吧。’你知道美国人对头衔的热情，布兰顿先生。”
“是的，除了美国人，其他国家的人有时也这样，金斯敦•布鲁斯上校。”
“是啦！千真万确，亲爱的先生，我最恨势利眼，正如我所说，贝茨一家来度周末了。
昨天晚上，我们正打桥牌，哈密尔顿•贝茨夫人的项链扣子坏了，所以她就摘下来，把它放在了小桌子上，打算上楼的时候拿上去。但是，她却忘了。我必须解释下，布兰特先生，这个项链的坠子镶着两颗小钻石，下面悬挂一大颗粉红色珍珠。今天早晨在贝茨夫人放项链的小桌上只发现了那条项链，而珍珠，那颗价值连城的珍珠，却被扯走了。”
“谁发现的这条项链？”
“客厅女仆格拉迪丝•黑尔。”
“她有嫌疑吗？”
“她已经跟随我们很多年，一直非常诚实。但是，当然，没人保证——”
“那倒是，您愿意把您所有仆人的情况向我介绍一下吗？当然，也告诉我们昨晚用餐时都有谁？”
“有个厨师——她才来了两个月，但她没有机会到客厅——厨房帮手也不例外。然后就是女仆了，艾莉斯•卡明斯，她也跟随我们几年了。另一位是劳拉女士的侍女，当然，她是法国人。”
金斯敦•布鲁斯上校似乎着重强调了这点。汤米，并不为他所披露的这个侍女的国籍所动，问道：“当然，就餐的人有哪些？”
“贝茨先生和贝茨太太，我们一家——我妻子和女儿——和罗拉女士。小圣文森特。雷尼先生晚餐后来逗留了一会儿。”
“雷尼先生是谁？”
“一个最令人厌烦的家伙——一个声名狼藉的社会主义者：十分英俊，但是，夸夸其谈。这个人，我不妨告诉您，我一点也不信任他。一个危险的家伙。”
“那么，实际上，”汤米讽刺地问道，“雷尼先生是您的怀疑对象？”
“确实如此，布兰特先生。对这一点，我相当肯定。鉴于他的立场，他做事也不可能有什么底线。当我们都沉浸在打牌的乐趣中时，对他来说，还有什么比悄悄扯下那颗珍珠更容易的事吗？有好几次，我们都入迷了，心无旁骛——一次是对无王牌的一手叫牌再加倍时，我记得，另一次是我妻子藏牌，引起大家不快的争论时。”
“果真如此，”汤米说，“我只想弄明白一件事——贝茨夫人对这件事是什么态度？”
“她想让我报警，”金斯敦•布鲁斯上校不情愿地说，“那只能是在我们到处都找遍了之后。我想，万一这颗珍珠只是掉在哪儿了呢？”
“于是您劝服了她？”
“我特别不喜欢把事情张扬出去，我的妻子和女儿也这样认为。然后我妻子想起来小圣文森特昨晚在餐桌上谈到过您的侦探所——特别是您承诺的二十四小时特殊服务。”
“是的。”汤米说道，心里却七上八下。
“您看，这么做有百利无一害。即使我们明天报警，也只能表明我们认为这颗珍珠丢了，正在找。另外，今天上午我们没有允许一个人离开。”
“除了您的女儿，当然。”塔彭丝终于开口了。
“是的，除了我女儿，”上校赞同，“她自告奋勇立刻去找你们，请你们帮忙处理此事。”
汤米站起来。
“我们会尽力给您一个满意的答复，上校，”他说，“我要看一下客厅及放项链的桌子，也想问贝茨夫人几个问题。然后，我要见见仆人——或者我的助手，鲁宾孙小姐可以做这个差事。”
一想到要面对面询问仆人，他的神经就由于犯怵而紧张起来。
金斯敦•布鲁斯上校打开门，引领他们穿过走廊。这时，一个声音从他们要去的房间敞开的门内清晰地传了出来，根据声音判断，说话的正是上午去见他们的那个女孩。
“您清楚地知道，妈妈，”她说，“她确实把一个茶匙放在暖手筒中带回了家。”
接下来，他们被介绍给金斯敦•布鲁斯夫人，这是一个满面愁容、举止倦怠的女士。金斯敦•布鲁斯小姐微微点头以示欢迎，脸色更加阴沉。
金斯敦•布鲁斯夫人滔滔不绝地说着：
“——但我也清楚知道是谁拿的那把茶匙，”她断定，“那个可怕的社会主义者，那个年轻人。他热爱俄国，爱德国，仇恨英国——不是他，还能是谁？”
“他从未碰过它，”金斯敦•布鲁斯小姐怒气冲冲地说，“我一直注视着他——一直。我不会看不到。”
她扬起下巴，挑战似的看着他们。
汤米打断她们的谈话，要求和贝茨夫人谈一谈。当金斯敦•布鲁斯夫人和她的丈夫及女儿一起离开去找贝茨夫人时，他沉思地吹了声口哨。
“我在想，”他轻轻地说，“是谁在她的暖手筒中放进了一个茶匙呢？”
“我也在想。”塔彭丝回答。
贝茨夫人急匆匆闯入房间，后面跟着她的丈夫。她身体强壮，声音果断坚定。哈默尔顿•贝茨先生却显得忧郁柔顺。
“我知道，布兰顿先生，您是私家侦探，办事雷厉风行。”
“雷利风行，”汤米说，“那的确是我做事的风格，贝茨夫人，请回答我几个问题。”
其后事情进展迅速。汤米检查了那条损坏了的项链，以及放项链的桌子。在他苦思冥想之际，贝茨先生冒出来，提醒他这颗珍珠的价值——也没忘用美元计算。
尽管汤米反复推敲，但还是一筹莫展。
“我想这样吧，”他最后说道，“鲁宾孙小姐，您能帮我去走廊拿来那套特殊的照相设备吗？”
鲁宾孙小姐照他吩咐做了。
“我自己的一个小发明，”汤米说，“看外形，只不过是一台普通的照相机。”
看到贝茨夫妇吃惊的表情，他心里有些得意。
他给项链拍了照，给放项链的桌子拍了照，给那个房间拍了几张照。然后“鲁宾孙小姐”就被派去和仆人们面谈，看到金斯敦•布鲁斯上校和贝茨夫人脸上热切的盼望之情，汤米觉得有必要来点权威的发言。
“现在的关键是，”他说，“这颗珍珠到底还在不在这座房子里。”
“正是。”金斯敦•布鲁斯上校被对方一语道破关键所折服。
“如果没在这所房子里，那么它就可能在任何地方——但是，如果就在这所房子里，那么它一定被藏在什么地方——”
“那势必要搜查一下，”金斯敦•布鲁斯上校提议，“就这样，我委托您，布兰特先生，搜查一下整座房子，从阁楼到地下室，一处也别放过。”
“哦，查尔斯，”金斯敦•布鲁斯夫人眼泪汪汪地嘟囔，“你认为这样做明智吗？用人们会很反感，我敢肯定他们会因此辞职。”
“我们会最后搜查他们的住处，”汤米安慰她说，“小偷一定会把珠宝藏在最不可能被发现的地方。”
“我似乎也读过一些类似的案子。”上校赞同道。
“就是这样，”汤米说，“您可能还记得雷克斯与贝雷的案子，那个案子就是类似的先例。”
“哦——呃——是的。”上校说，看起来有些困惑。
“现在，最不可能被发现的地方就是贝茨夫人的房间。”汤米继续说。
“天啊！这也太聪明了吧？”贝茨夫人赞赏地说。
没有犹豫，她带他上楼去自己的房间。在那儿，汤米再次运用了他那特殊的专用照相设备。
这时塔彭丝也来到这儿找他。
“您不会反对吧，贝茨夫人，我的助手想检查一下您的衣柜？”
“当然，请便，这儿还需要我吗？”
汤米答复没有必要再耽搁她，贝茨夫人离开了房间。
“我们或许还能瞎猫碰到死耗子，”汤米说，“但我个人不相信这次我们还能撞上狗屎运找到这个东西。去你的二十四小时承诺，塔彭丝。”
“听着，”塔彭丝说，“用人们都没问题，我确信。但是我从那个法国侍女口中套出点东西。罗拉女士似乎在这儿待了一年，她和金斯敦•布鲁斯夫人的一些朋友出去喝茶，等回到家，一把茶匙从她的暖手筒中掉了出来。每个人都认为是偶然掉进去的，但是，说到相似的盗窃案，我可知之甚多。罗拉女士总是跟一些人混在一起。她一文不名，我想，她和那些还在乎头衔的人一起出去，只是为了寻求点快活。茶匙可能只是个偶然事件——也可能还有更多的内幕。但是她待过的不同房子里，竟然发生了五起不同的盗窃案。有时是些不重要的东西，有时却是昂贵的珠宝。”
“哇！”汤米说，吹了一个长长的口哨，“那只老鸟的巢在哪儿？你知道吗？”
“穿过走廊就是。”
“那么我想，我们就悄悄过去暗地搜查一下。”
对面那个房间，门半开着。这是个宽敞的房间，陈设着白色油漆的家具和玫瑰粉的窗帘。里面有一扇门通往浴室。就在这门边，出现了一个女孩，苗条，黝黑，穿戴整洁。
塔彭丝仔细审视着这个女孩，注意到她的嘴唇在颤抖，脸上流露出吃惊的神色。
“这是艾莉丝，布兰特先生，”她一本正经地介绍，“罗拉女士的侍女。”
汤米迈进浴室，里面昂贵高档的物品令人惊叹。他即刻开始忙碌，以消除这个法国女孩的怀疑。
“您正忙工作，艾莉丝小姐，是吗？”
“是的，先生。我在清理夫人的浴室。”
“哦，打扰了，或许您能帮我拍一些照片。我这儿有一台特殊的照相机，正用来拍这栋房子每个房间的内部。”
身后通往卧室的门突然发出“呯”的一声，他被这突然的响声打断了，艾莉丝也吓了一大跳。
“那是什么？”
“一定是风刮的。”塔彭丝说。
“我们去别的房间吧。”汤米说。
艾莉丝给他们开门，但是门把手却只是嘎嘎乱响地空转着。
“怎么啦？”汤米警觉地问。
“啊，先生，一定有人从那边给锁上了。”她抓起一条毛巾又试了一下。
但是这次门把手却轻而易举地转动，门一下就打开了。
“真奇怪。刚才一定是被锁上了。”艾莉丝说。
卧室里并没有人。
汤米拿起他的照相设备。塔彭丝和艾莉丝按汤米的指令开始工作。但是他却再三回头瞟那扇门。
“真奇怪，”他从牙缝里挤出几个字，“那扇门怎么会卡住呢？”
他仔细检查那扇门，打开，关上——门转动灵活。
“再拍一张，”他示意道，“您能把玫瑰色窗帘向后卷起来吗，艾莉丝小姐？谢谢，就是这样拿着。”
然后，熟悉的“咔嚓”声又响起来。他递给艾莉丝一个玻璃载片，把三角架递给塔彭丝，然后小心翼翼地收拾好相机。
他随便找了个借口让艾莉丝离开，等她一走出房门，他就一把抓住塔彭丝，急切地说：
“看，我有个主意，你能在这儿再待一会儿吗？搜查这个房间——这会花些时间。看能不能见到那只老狐狸——罗拉女士——但是别惊动她。告诉她你的怀疑对象是客厅女仆。
但是，想方设法让她不离开这所房子。我马上开车离开这儿。”
“好的，”塔彭丝说，“但是不要太自信，你忘了一件事。就是那个女孩。你不觉得那个女孩很蹊跷吗？我已经调查到她今天上午从家里动身的时间，她花了整整两个小时才到我们办公室。这太不可思议了。在到达咱们办公室之前，她去了哪儿？”
“这里面确实有些蹊跷，”她的丈夫赞同说，“好，继续顺着你的线索摸索，但是别让罗拉女士离开这所房子。什么声音？”
他敏锐地听到外面楼梯平台上隐隐传来一阵细微的沙沙声。他轻手轻脚地穿过房间，走到门边，但是没看到一个人影。
“好，再见，”他说，“我会尽快回来。”
第三章 粉色珍珠绯闻（2）
2塔彭丝有些担忧地看着汤米驾车离开。汤米十分自信，但她却不是那么乐观。她总觉得有一两个疑点无法解释。
她仍旧站在窗前，一直望着街道。突然，她看到一个人从街对面一处大门的遮阳棚下走出来，穿过马路，按响了门铃。
塔彭丝迅速冲出房间，冲下楼梯。葛莱蒂丝•黑尔，那个客厅女仆，正从这所房子的后面冒出来，但是塔彭丝用手势命令她回去。然后她自己走到前门，打开大门。
一位瘦高个儿的年轻人站在台阶上，衣衫不整，眼神急切。
他犹豫了一下，然后说：
“金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐在家吗？”
“您能进来说吗？”塔彭丝说。
她侧过身，让他进来，接着关上门。
“雷尼先生，是吗？”她亲切地说。
他迅速瞥了她一眼。
“呃——是的。”
“您能进来一下吗？”
她打开书房的门，房间里空无一人，塔彭丝紧随他进来，随手关上门。他皱了一下眉头，转过身面对她。
“我想见金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐。”
“我不太确定您能不能见到她。”塔彭丝镇定自若地说。
“哇，您到底是何方神圣？”雷尼先生粗鲁地说。
“国际侦探所侦探。”塔彭丝简洁地说——同时注意到雷尼先生不由自主地动了一下。
“请坐，雷尼先生，”她继续说，“开始吧，我们已经知道金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐今天上午曾经拜访过您了。”
这本来是个大胆的猜测，但是却被证实了。塔彭丝注意到他有一丝惊慌，接着单刀直入地说：
“这颗珍珠物归原主是件大事，雷尼先生。这所房子里没有一个人想把这件事闹得沸沸扬扬，我们能不能想出一个妥善的办法？”
这个年轻人目光锐利地看着她。
“我不知道您对这件事了解多少，”他沉思地说，“不过，让我考虑一下。”
他把头埋在双手中间——然后问了一个完全出乎意料的问题。
“小圣文森特真的要订婚了？”
“千真万确，”塔彭丝说，“我认识那个姑娘。”
雷尼先生立刻笃信无疑。
“真见鬼，”他坦白地说，“他们没日没夜地劝说她——不停地在她头脑中灌输‘比阿特丽斯’ [3] 形象。就是因为她将来会获得一个头衔。如果我有这个权利——”
“我们还是不谈政治吧，”塔彭丝急急地说，“您不介意告诉我，雷尼先生，您为什么认为是金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐拿了那颗珍珠？”
“我……我没有——”
“您就是这样认为的，”塔彭丝平静地说，“您一直等着看到那位侦探驾车离开，认为现场安全后，就想进来见见她。显然，如果是您自己拿了那颗珍珠，您根本不会看起来这么心烦意乱。”
“当时她的举止非常奇怪，”年轻人说，“她今天上午来告诉我这起珍珠失窃的事件，解释说她正在赶去一家私人侦探所。她似乎急于要说点什么，却又说不清楚。”
“好了，”塔彭丝说，“我只关心那颗珍珠，您最好去和她谈谈。”
但就在这时，金斯顿•布鲁丝上校打开了门。
“午餐备好了，鲁宾孙小姐。我希望，您会和我们共进午餐。这位是——怎么是你？”
然后他住了口，盯着那位不速之客。
“显然，”雷尼先生说，“您并不欢迎我一起用餐。好吧，我告辞。”
“待会儿再回来。”当他经过身旁时，塔彭丝轻声说。
塔彭丝紧随金斯顿•布鲁丝上校进入宽敞的餐厅，一路听他吹胡子瞪眼，指责某些讨厌的闯入者，餐厅里一家人都已经到齐。在场的只有一个人塔彭丝不认识。
“罗拉女士，这位是鲁宾孙小姐，她正热心地协助我们。”
罗拉女士微微点了一下头，然后继续透过夹鼻眼镜盯着塔彭丝。她又瘦又高，笑容忧郁，声音轻柔，一双眼睛严厉而精明。塔彭丝也迎着她的目光，狠狠盯着她，罗拉女士垂下了眼睛。
午餐后，罗拉女士带着一丝好奇加入谈话。调查得如何？塔彭丝恰到好处地强调怀疑的重点是客厅女仆。但是她的注意力并未真正放在罗拉女士身上。罗拉女士或许在她衣服里藏过茶匙或其他什么东西，但是塔彭丝确信她没有拿这颗粉色珍珠。
接下来，塔彭丝继续搜查这所房子。时间一点点流逝，没有汤米的一点消息，更让塔彭丝焦虑的是，雷尼先生也不见影踪。突然，塔彭丝走出一间卧室，撞到了“比阿特丽斯”金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐，她打扮停当，正要下楼，似乎要出去。
“恐怕，”塔彭丝说，“您现在不能出去。”
那个女孩傲慢地望着她。
“我出不出去和您没有关系。”她冷冷地说。
“但是，是否通知警察却和我有关系。”塔彭丝说。
那个女孩的脸瞬间变得灰白。
“您千万不要——千万不要——我不出去，但是别通知警察。”她一把抓住塔彭丝，恳求道。
“我亲爱的金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐，”塔彭丝微笑着说，“这个案情对我来说，一开始就十分明朗——我——”
但是她的话被打断了。专注于和这个女孩谈话的塔彭丝一点也没有听到前面的门铃响。现在，汤米令人惊讶地出现了，他轻松地跳上楼梯。下面的大厅里，她看到一位大块头的粗鲁男人正摘下他的圆顶礼帽。
“苏格兰场马里奥特探长。”汤米咧嘴一笑。
随着一声尖叫，“比阿特丽斯”金斯顿•布鲁丝小姐挣脱塔彭丝的手，冲下楼梯，就在这时前门再次打开，雷尼先生进来了。
“现在可好，你把一切搞得一团糟。”塔彭丝悲哀地说。
“真的？”汤米说，迅速冲进罗拉女士的房间，冲进浴室，拿了一大块肥皂出来。探长正好沿着楼梯上来。
“她一声不吭就走了，”探长说，“看来是个老手，知道游戏什么时候结束。珍珠呢？”
“我一直猜测，”汤米说，递给他那块肥皂，“会藏在这里。”
探长快活地眨眨眼睛。
“一个老把戏，不过还不赖。把肥皂一分为二，挖出一块藏进珍珠，再把它合上，用热水使接缝处融合，干得漂亮，先生。”
汤米欣然接受夸赞。他和塔彭丝走下楼梯，金斯顿•布鲁丝上校奔向他，热情地握着他的手，来回摇晃。
“我亲爱的先生，不知该怎么感谢您，罗拉女士也想谢谢您——”
“我很高兴最终能让您满意，”汤米说，“但恐怕我不能再在这儿耽搁了。我有一个非常紧急的约会——和一位内阁成员。”
他匆忙走出房子，跳上车，塔彭丝也跟着坐到他身边。
“但是汤米，”她大叫，“他们不是还没有逮捕罗拉女士吗？”
“哦，”汤米说，“我没告诉你？他们没逮捕罗拉女士，但是已经逮捕了艾莉丝。”
“你明白了吧？”他继续说，而塔彭丝却坐在那儿目瞪口呆，“我自己以前经常手中拿着肥皂试图开门。打不开——手滑。所以我一直纳闷艾莉丝拿肥皂干什么会把双手弄得那么滑。她拿了一块毛巾，你记得吧，所以门把手上就没有留下肥皂的痕迹。但是我想起来，如果是一个专业窃贼，做一个有盗窃癖嫌疑的女士的侍女是个不错的主意，而这位女主人经常出入不同的房子。所以我拍房间照片的时候设法拍了她的一张照片，我还劝说她拿着一张玻璃片。然后我便从容地把玻璃片送去给了可爱的老朋友苏格兰场。通过底片强光显影，成功显现出指纹——还辨认出了照片。原来艾莉丝是苏格兰场一位失踪多年的老朋友，她是个惯偷。苏格兰场就完全可以派上用场。”
“哦，原来，”塔彭丝终于回过神，说出话来，“那两个年轻的傻瓜只是——像小说中写的那样——莫须有的怀疑彼此，但是为什么你出去时没有告诉我你干什么去了？”
“首先，我怀疑艾莉丝在偷听，其次——”
“什么？”
“我博学的朋友，你忘了，”汤米说，“桑代克大师不到最后一刻是不会揭晓谜底的。并且，塔彭丝，你和你的伙伴珍妮特上次不是先给我设了一局？我们两清了。”
[1]英国作家奥斯丁•弗里曼笔下的侦探（参见《歌唱的白骨》，新星出版社二〇一〇年九月出版）。
曾在圣玛卡勒特医院的附属医学专科学校学习病理学与法医学。后来在博物馆工作，获得律师资格。依赖科学推理，人称“科学侦探”。
[2]原文为法语。
[3]Beatrice，但丁作品《神曲》中理想化了的一位佛罗伦萨女子，相传原型为但丁所倾心的女子。
Four THE ADVENTURE OF THE SINISTER STRANGER（1）
Four THE ADVENTURE OF THE SINISTER STRANGER

“It’s been a darned dull day,” said Tommy, and yawned widely.
“Nearly tea time,” said Tuppence and also yawned.
Business was not brisk in the International Detective Agency. Theeagerly expected letter from the ham merchant had not arrived and bonafide cases were not forthcoming.
Albert, the office boy, entered with a sealed package which he laid onthe table.
“The Mystery of the Sealed Packet,” murmured Tommy. “Did it containthe fabulous pearls of the Russian Grand Duchess? Or was it an infernalmachine destined to blow Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives to pieces?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Tuppence, tearing open the package. “It’s mywedding present to Francis Haviland. Rather nice, isn’t it?”
Tommy took a slender silver cigarette case from her outstretched hand,noted the inscription engraved in her own handwriting, “Francis fromTuppence,” opened and shut the case, and nodded approvingly.
“You do throw your money about, Tuppence,” he remarked. “I’ll haveone like it, only in gold, for my birthday next month. Fancy wasting athing like that on Francis Haviland, who always was and always will beone of the most perfect asses God ever made!”
“You forget I used to drive him about during the war, when he was aGeneral. Ah! those were the good old days.”
“They were,” agreed Tommy. “Beautiful women used to come andsqueeze my hand in hospital, I remember. But I don’t send them all wed-ding presents. I don’t believe the bride will care much for this gift ofyours, Tuppence.”
“It’s nice and slim for the pocket, isn’t it?” said Tuppence, disregardinghis remarks.
Tommy slipped it into his own pocket.
“Just right,” he said approvingly. “Hullo, here is Albert with the after-noon post. Very possibly the Duchess of Perthshire is commissioning us tofind her prize Peke.”
They sorted through the letters together. Suddenly Tommy gave vent toa prolonged whistle and held up one of them in his hand.
“A blue letter with a Russian stamp on it. Do you remember what theChief said? We were to look out for letters like that.”
“How exciting,” said Tuppence. “Something has happened at last. Openit and see if the contents are up to schedule. A ham merchant, wasn’t it?
Half a minute. We shall want some milk for tea. They forgot to leave it thismorning. I’ll send Albert out for it.”
She returned from the outer office, after despatching Albert on his er-rand, to find Tommy holding the blue sheet of paper in his hand.
“As we thought, Tuppence,” he remarked. “Almost word for word whatthe Chief said.”
Tuppence took the letter from him and read it.
It was couched in careful stilted English, and purported to be from oneGregor Feodorsky, who was anxious for news of his wife. The Interna-tional Detective Agency was urged to spare no expense in doing their ut-most to trace her. Feodorsky himself was unable to leave Russia at the mo-ment owing to a crisis in the pork trade.
“I wonder what it really means,” said Tuppence thoughtfully, smoothingout the sheet on the table in front of her.
“Code of some kind, I suppose,” said Tommy. “That’s not our business.
Our business is to hand it over to the Chief as soon as possible. Better justverify it by soaking off the stamp and seeing if the number 16 is under-neath.”
“All right,” said Tuppence. “But I should think—”
She stopped dead, and Tommy, surprised by her sudden pause, lookedup to see a man’s burly figure blocking the doorway.
The intruder was a man of commanding presence, squarely built, with avery round head and a powerful jaw. He might have been about forty-fiveyears of age.
“I must beg your pardon,” said the stranger, advancing into the room,hat in hand. “I found your outer office empty and this door open, so I ven-tured to intrude. This is Blunt’s International Detective Agency, is it not?”
“Certainly it is.”
“And you are, perhaps, Mr. Blunt? Mr. Theodore Blunt?”
“I am Mr. Blunt. You wish to consult me? This is my secretary, MissRobinson.”
Tuppence inclined her head gracefully, but continued to scrutinise thestranger narrowly through her downcast eyelashes. She was wonderinghow long he had been standing in the doorway, and how much he hadseen and heard. It did not escape her observation that even while he wastalking to Tommy, his eyes kept coming back to the blue paper in herhand.
Tommy’s voice, sharp with a warning note, recalled her to the needs ofthe moment.
“Miss Robinson, please, take notes. Now, sir, will you kindly state thematter on which you wish to have my advice?”
Tuppence reached for her pad and pencil.
The big man began in rather a harsh voice.
“My name is Bower. Dr. Charles Bower. I live in Hampstead, where Ihave a practice. I have come to you, Mr. Blunt, because several ratherstrange occurrences have happened lately.”
“Yes, Dr. Bower?”
“Twice in the course of the last week I have been summoned by tele-phone to an urgent case—in each case to find that the summons has beena fake. The first time I thought a practical joke had been played upon me,but on my return the second time I found that some of my private papershad been displaced and disarranged, and now I believe that the samething had happened the first time. I made an exhaustive search and cameto the conclusion that my whole desk had been thoroughly ransacked, andthe various papers replaced hurriedly.”
Dr. Bower paused and gazed at Tommy.
“Well, Mr. Blunt?”
“Well, Dr. Bower,” replied the young man, smiling.
“What do you think of it, eh?”
“Well, first I should like the facts. What do you keep in your desk?”
“My private papers.”
“Exactly. Now, what do those private papers consist of? What value arethey to the common thief—or any particular person?”
“To the common thief I cannot see that they would have any value at all,but my notes on certain obscure alkaloids would be of interest to anyonepossessed of technical knowledge of the subject. I have been making astudy of such matters for the last few years. These alkaloids are deadlyand virulent poisons, and are in addition, almost untraceable. They yieldno known reactions.”
“The secret of them would be worth money, then?”
“To unscrupulous persons, yes.”
“And you suspect—whom?”
The doctor shrugged his massive shoulders.
“As far as I can tell, the house was not entered forcibly from the outside.
That seems to point to some member of my household, and yet I cannotbelieve—” He broke off abruptly, then began again, his voice very grave.
“Mr. Blunt, I must place myself in your hands unreservedly. I dare notgo to the police in the matter. Of my three servants I am almost entirelysure. They have served me long and faithfully. Still, one never knows.
Then I have living with me my two nephews, Bertram and Henry. Henry isa good boy—a very good boy—he has never caused me any anxiety, an ex-cellent hardworking young fellow. Bertram, I regret to say, is of quite adifferent character—wild, extravagant, and persistently idle.”
“I see,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “You suspect your nephew Bertram ofbeing mixed up in this business. Now I don’t agree with you. I suspect thegood boy—Henry.”
“But why?”
“Tradition. Precedent.” Tommy waved his hand airily. “In my experi-ence, the suspicious characters are always innocent—and vice versa, mydear sir. Yes, decidedly, I suspect Henry.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Blunt,” said Tuppence, interrupting in a deferentialtone. “Did I understand Dr. Bower to say that these notes on—er—obscurealkaloids—are kept in the desk with the other papers?”
“They are kept in the desk, my dear young lady, but in a secret drawer,the position of which is known only to myself. Hence they have so far de-fied the search.”
“And what exactly do you want me to do, Dr. Bower?” asked Tommy.
“Do you anticipate that a further search will be made?”
“I do, Mr. Blunt. I have every reason to believe so. This afternoon I re-ceived a telegram from a patient of mine whom I ordered to Bournemoutha few weeks ago. The telegram states that my patient is in a critical condi-tion, and begs me to come down at once. Rendered suspicious by theevents I have told you of, I myself despatched a telegram, prepaid, to thepatient in question, and elicited the fact that he was in good health andhad sent no summons to me of any kind. It occurred to me that if I preten-ded to have been taken in, and duly departed to Bournemouth, we shouldhave a very good chance of finding the miscreants at work. They—or he—will doubtless wait until the household has retired to bed before commen-cing operations. I suggest that you should meet me outside my house at el-even o’clock this evening, and we will investigate the matter together.”
“Hoping, in fact, to catch them in the act.” Tommy drummed thought-fully on the table with a paper knife. “Your plan seems to me an excellentone, Dr. Bower. I cannot see any hitch in it. Let me see, your address is—?”
“The Larches, Hangman’s Lane—rather a lonely part, I am afraid. Butwe command magnificent views over the Heath.”
“Quite so,” said Tommy.
The visitor rose.
“Then I shall expect you tonight, Mr. Blunt. Outside The Larches at—shall we say, five minutes to eleven—to be on the safe side?”
“Certainly. Five minutes to eleven. Good afternoon, Dr. Bower.”
Tommy rose, pressed a buzzer on his desk, and Albert appeared to showthe client out. The doctor walked with a decided limp, but his powerfulphysique was evident in spite of it.
“An ugly customer to tackle,” murmured Tommy to himself. “Well, Tup-pence, old girl, what do you think of it?”
“I’ll tell you in one word,” said Tuppence. “Clubfoot!”
“What?”
“I said Clubfoot! My study of the classics has not been in vain. Tommy,this thing’s a plant. Obscure alkaloids indeed—I never heard a weakerstory.”
“Even I did not find it very convincing,” admitted her husband.
“Did you see his eyes on the letter? Tommy, he’s one of the gang.
They’ve got wise to the fact that you’re not the real Mr. Blunt, and they’reout for our blood.”
“In that case,” said Tommy, opening the side cupboard and surveyinghis rows of books with an affectionate eye, “our role is easy to select. Weare the brothers Okewood! And I am Desmond,” he added firmly.
Tuppence shrugged her shoulders.
“All right. Have it your own way. I’d as soon be Francis. Francis wasmuch the more intelligent of the two. Desmond always gets into a mess,and Francis turns up as the gardener or something in the nick of time andsaves the situation.”
“Ah!” said Tommy, “but I shall be a super Desmond. When I arrive at theLarches—”
Tuppence interrupted him unceremoniously.
“You’re not going to Hampstead tonight?”
“Why not?”
“Walk into a trap with your eyes shut!”
“No, my dear girl, walk into a trap with my eyes open. There’s a lot ofdifference. I think our friend, Dr. Bower, will get a little surprise.”
“I don’t like it,” said Tuppence. “You know what happens when Des-mond disobeys the Chief’s orders and acts on his own. Our orders werequite clear. To send on the letters at once and to report immediately onanything that happened.”
“You’ve not got it quite right,” said Tommy. “We were to report immedi-ately if any one came in and mentioned the number 16. Nobody has.”
“That’s a quibble,” said Tuppence.
“It’s no good. I’ve got a fancy for playing a lone hand. My dear old Tup-pence, I shall be all right. I shall go armed to the teeth. The essence of thewhole thing is that I shall be on my guard and they won’t know it. TheChief will be patting me on the back for a good night’s work.”
“Well,” said Tuppence. “I don’t like it. That man’s as strong as a gorilla.”
“Ah!” said Tommy, “but think of my blue-nosed automatic.”
The door of the outer office opened and Albert appeared. Closing thedoor behind him, he approached them with an envelope in his hand.
“A gentleman to see you,” said Albert. “When I began the usual stunt ofsaying you were engaged with Scotland Yard, he told me he knew allabout that. Said he came from Scotland Yard himself! And he wrote some-thing on a card and stuck it up in this envelope.”
Tommy took the envelope and opened it. As he read the card, a grinpassed across his face.
“The gentleman was amusing himself at your expense by speaking thetruth, Albert,” he remarked. “Show him in.”
He tossed the card to Tuppence. It bore the name Detective InspectorDymchurch, and across it was scrawled in pencil—“A friend of Marriot’s.”
In another minute the Scotland Yard detective was entering the inneroffice. In appearance, Inspector Dymchurch was of the same type as In-spector Marriot, short and thick set, with shrewd eyes.
“Good afternoon,” said the detective breezily. “Marriot’s away in SouthWales, but before he went he asked me to keep an eye on you two, and onthis place in general. Oh, bless you, sir,” he went on, as Tommy seemedabout to interrupt him, “we know all about it. It’s not our department, andwe don’t interfere. But somebody’s got wise lately to the fact that all is notwhat it seems. You’ve had a gentleman here this afternoon. I don’t knowwhat he called himself, and I don’t know what his real name is, but I knowjust a little about him. Enough to want to know more. Am I right in assum-ing that he made a date with you for some particular spot this evening?”
“Quite right.”
“I thought as much. 16 Westerham Road, Finsbury Park—was that it?”
“You’re wrong there,” said Tommy with a smile. “Dead wrong. TheLarches, Hampstead.”
Dymchurch seemed honestly taken aback. Clearly he had not expectedthis.
“I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “It must be a new layout. TheLarches, Hampstead, you said?”
“Yes. I’m to meet him there at eleven o’clock tonight.”
“Don’t you do it, sir.”
“There!” burst from Tuppence.
Tommy flushed.
“If you think, Inspector—” he began heatedly.
But the Inspector raised a soothing hand.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Mr. Blunt. The place you want to be at eleveno’clock tonight is here in this office.”
“What?” cried Tuppence, astonished.
“Here in this office. Never mind how I know — departments overlapsometimes — but you got one of those famous ‘Blue’ letters today. Oldwhat’s-his-name is after that. He lures you up to Hampstead, makes quitesure of your being out of the way, and steps in here at night when all thebuilding is empty and quiet to have a good search round at his leisure.”
“But why should he think the letter would be here? He’d know I shouldhave it on me or else have passed it on.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, that’s just what he wouldn’t know. He mayhave tumbled to the fact that you’re not the original Mr. Blunt, but heprobably thinks that you’re a bona fide gentleman who’s bought the busi-ness. In that case, the letter would be all in the way of regular businessand would be filed as such.”
“I see,” said Tuppence.
“And that’s just what we’ve got to let him think. We’ll catch him red-handed here tonight.”
“So that’s the plan, is it?”
“Yes. It’s the chance of a lifetime. Now, let me see, what’s the time? Sixo’clock. What time do you usually leave here, sir?”
“About six.”
“You must seem to leave the place as usual. Actually we’ll sneak back toit as soon as possible. I don’t believe they’ll come here till about eleven,but of course they might. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just go and take a lookround outside and see if I can make out anyone watching the place.”
Dymchurch departed, and Tommy began an argument with Tuppence.
It lasted some time and was heated and acrimonious. In the end Tup-pence suddenly capitulated.
“All right,” she said. “I give in. I’ll go home and sit there like a good littlegirl whilst you tackle crooks and hobnob with detectives—but you wait,young man. I’ll be even with you yet for keeping me out of the fun.”
Dymchurch returned at that moment.
“Coast seems clear enough,” he said. “But you can’t tell. Better seem toleave in the usual manner. They won’t go on watching the place onceyou’ve gone.”
Tommy called Albert and gave him instructions to lock up.
Then the four of them made their way to the garage near by where thecar was usually left. Tuppence drove and Albert sat beside her. Tommyand the detective sat behind.
Presently they were held up by a block in the traffic. Tuppence lookedover her shoulder and nodded. Tommy and the detective opened the right-hand door and stepped out into the middle of Oxford Street. In a minuteor two Tuppence drove on.
Four THE ADVENTURE OF THE SINISTER STRANGER（2）
II
“Better not go in just yet,” said Dymchurch as he and Tommy hurriedinto Haleham Street. “You’ve got the key all right?”
Tommy nodded.
“Then what about a bite of dinner? It’s early, but there’s a little placehere right opposite. We’ll get a table by the window, so that we can watchthe place all the time.”
They had a very welcome little meal, in the manner the detective hadsuggested. Tommy found Inspector Dymchurch quite an entertaining com-panion. Most of his official work had lain amongst international spies, andhe had tales to tell which astonished his simple listener.
They remained in the little restaurant until eight o’clock, whenDymchurch suggested a move.
“It’s quite dark now, sir,” he explained. “We shall be able to slip inwithout any one being the wiser.”
It was, as he said, quite dark. They crossed the road, looked quickly upand down the deserted street, and slipped inside the entrance. Then theymounted the stairs, and Tommy inserted his key in the lock of the outer of-fice.
Just as he did so, he heard, as he thought, Dymchurch whistle besidehim.
“What are you whistling for?” he asked sharply.
“I didn’t whistle,” said Dymchurch, very much astonished. “I thoughtyou did.”
“Well, some one—” began Tommy.
He got no further. Strong arms seized him from behind, and before hecould cry out, a pad of something sweet and sickly was pressed over hismouth and nose.
He struggled valiantly, but in vain. The chloroform did its work. Hishead began to whirl and the floor heaved up and down in front of him.
Choking, he lost consciousness. .?.?.
He came to himself painfully, but in full possession of his faculties. Thechloroform had been only a whiff. They had kept him under long enoughto force a gag into his mouth and ensure that he did not cry out.
When he came to himself, he was half- lying, half- sitting, proppedagainst the wall in a corner of his own inner office. Two men were busilyturning out the contents of the desk and ransacking the cupboards, and asthey worked they cursed freely.
“Swelp me, guv’nor,” said the taller of the two hoarsely, “we’ve turnedthe whole b—y place upside down and inside out. It’s not there.”
“It must be here,” snarled the other. “It isn’t on him. And there’s noother place it can be.”
As he spoke he turned, and to Tommy’s utter amazement he saw thatthe last speaker was none other than Inspector Dymchurch. The lattergrinned when he saw Tommy’s astonished face.
“So our young friend is awake again,” he said. “And a little surprised—yes, a little surprised. But it was so simple. We suspect that all is not as itshould be with the International Detective Agency. I volunteer to find outif that is so, or not. If the new Mr. Blunt is indeed a spy, he will be suspi-cious, so I send first my dear old friend, Carl Bauer. Carl is told to act sus-piciously and pitch an improbable tale. He does so, and then I appear onthe scene. I used the name of Inspector Marriot to gain confidence. Therest is easy.”
He laughed.
Tommy was dying to say several things, but the gag in his mouth pre-vented him. Also, he was dying to do several things — mostly with hishands and feet—but alas, that too had been attended to. He was securelybound.
The thing that amazed him most was the astounding change in the manstanding over him. As Inspector Dymchurch the fellow had been a typicalEnglishman. Now, no one could have mistaken him for a moment for any-thing but a well-educated foreigner who talked English perfectly without atrace of accent.
“Coggins, my good friend,” said the erstwhile Inspector, addressing hisruffianly looking associate, “take your life preserver and stand by the pris-oner. I am going to remove the gag. You understand, my dear Mr. Blunt,do you not, that it would be criminally foolish on your part to cry out? ButI am sure you do. For your age, you are quite an intelligent lad.”
Very deftly he removed the gag and stepped back.
Tommy eased his stiff jaws, rolled his tongue round his mouth, swal-lowed twice—and said nothing at all.
“I congratulate you on your restraint,” said the other. “You appreciatethe position, I see. Have you nothing at all to say?”
“What I have to say will keep,” said Tommy. “And it won’t spoil by wait-ing.”
“Ah! What I have to say will not keep. In plain English, Mr. Blunt, whereis that letter?”
“My dear fellow, I don’t know,” said Tommy cheerfully. “I haven’t got it.
But you know that as well as I do. I should go on looking about if I wereyou. I like to see you and friend Coggins playing hide-and-seek together.”
The other’s face darkened.
“You are pleased to be flippant, Mr. Blunt. You see that square box overthere. That is Coggins’s little outfit. In it there is vitriol .?.?. yes, vitriol .?.?.
and irons that can be heated in the fire, so that they are red hot and burn.
.?.?.”
Tommy shook his head sadly.
“An error in diagnosis,” he murmured. “Tuppence and I labelled this ad-venture wrong. It’s not a Clubfoot story. It’s a Bull-dog Drummond, andyou are the inimitable Carl Peterson.”
“What is this nonsense you are talking,” snarled the other.
“Ah!” said Tommy. “I see you are unacquainted with the classics. Apity.”
“Ignorant fool! Will you do what we want or will you not? Shall I tellCoggins to get out his tools and begin?”
“Don’t be so impatient,” said Tommy. “Of course I’ll do what you want,as soon as you tell me what it is. You don’t suppose I want to be carved uplike a filleted sole and fried on a gridiron? I loathe being hurt.”
Dymchurch looked at him in contempt.
“Gott! What cowards are these English.”
“Common sense, my dear fellow, merely common sense. Leave the vit-riol alone and let us come down to brass tacks.”
“I want the letter.”
“I’ve already told you I haven’t got it.”
“We know that—we also know who must have it. The girl.”
“Very possibly you’re right,” said Tommy. “She may have slipped it intoher handbag when your pal Carl startled us.”
“Oh, you do not deny. That is wise. Very good, you will write to this Tup-pence, as you call her, bidding her bring the letter here immediately.”
“I can’t do that,” began Tommy.
The other cut in before he had finished the sentence.
“Ah! You can’t? Well, we shall soon see. Coggins!”
“Don’t be in such a hurry,” said Tommy. “And do wait for the end of thesentence. I was going to say that I can’t do that unless you untie my arms.
Hang it all, I’m not one of those freaks who can write with their noses ortheir elbows.”
“You are willing to write, then?”
“Of course. Haven’t I been telling you so all along? I’m all out to bepleasant and obliging. You won’t do anything unkind to Tuppence, ofcourse. I’m sure you won’t. She’s such a nice girl.”
“We only want the letter,” said Dymchurch, but there was a singularlyunpleasant smile on his face.
At a nod from him the brutal Coggins knelt down and unfastenedTommy’s arms. The latter swung them to and fro.
“That’s better,” he said cheerfully. “Will kind Coggins hand me my foun-tain pen? It’s on the table, I think, with my other miscellaneous property.”
Scowling, the man brought it to him, and provided a sheet of paper.
“Be careful what you say,” Dymchurch said menacingly. “We leave it toyou, but failure means—death—and slow death at that.”
“In that case,” said Tommy, “I will certainly do my best.”
He reflected a minute or two, then began to scribble rapidly.
“How will this do?” he asked, handing over the completed epistle.
Dear Tuppence,
Can you come along at once and bring that blue letter withyou? We want to decode it here and now.
In haste,
Francis.
“Francis?” queried the bogus Inspector, with lifted eyebrows. “Was thatthe name she called you?”
“As you weren’t at my christening,” said Tommy, “I don’t suppose youcan know whether it’s my name or not. But I think the cigarette case youtook from my pocket is a pretty good proof that I’m speaking the truth.”
The other stepped over to the table and took up the case, read “Francisfrom Tuppence” with a faint grin and laid it down again.
“I am glad to find you are behaving so sensibly,” he said. “Coggins, givethat note to Vassilly. He is on guard outside. Tell him to take it at once.”
The next twenty minutes passed slowly, the ten minutes after that moreslowly still. Dymchurch was striding up and down with a face that grewdarker and darker. Once he turned menacingly on Tommy.
“If you have dared to double-cross us,” he growled.
“If we’d had a pack of cards here, we might have had a game of picquetto pass the time,” drawled Tommy. “Women always keep one waiting. Ihope you’re not going to be unkind to little Tuppence when she comes?”
“Oh, no,” said Dymchurch. “We shall arrange for you to go to the sameplace—together.”
“Will you, you swine,” said Tommy under his breath.
Suddenly there was a stir in the outer office. A man whom Tommy hadnot yet seen poked his head in and growled something in Russian.
“Good,” said Dymchurch. “She is coming—and coming alone.”
For a moment a faint anxiety caught at Tommy’s heart.
The next minute he heard Tuppence’s voice.
“Oh! there you are, Inspector Dymchurch. I’ve brought the letter. Whereis Francis?”
With the last words she came through the door, and Vassilly sprang onher from behind, clapping his hand over her mouth. Dymchurch tore thehandbag from her grasp and turned over its contents in a frenzied search.
Suddenly he uttered an ejaculation of delight and held up a blue envel-ope with a Russian stamp on it. Coggins gave a hoarse shout.
And just in that minute of triumph the other door, the door into Tup-pence’s own office, opened noiselessly and Inspector Marriot and two menarmed with revolvers stepped into the room, with the sharp command:
“Hands up.”
There was no fight. The others were taken at a hopeless disadvantage.
Dymchurch’s automatic lay on the table, and the two others were notarmed.
“A very nice little haul,” said Inspector Marriot with approval, as hesnapped the last pair of handcuffs. “And we’ll have more as time goes on, Ihope.”
White with rage, Dymchurch glared at Tuppence.
“You little devil,” he snarled. “It was you put them on to us.”
Tuppence laughed.
“It wasn’t all my doing. I ought to have guessed, I admit, when youbrought in the number sixteen this afternoon. But it was Tommy’s noteclinched matters. I rang up Inspector Marriot, got Albert to meet him withthe duplicate key of the office, and came along myself with the empty blueenvelope in my bag. The letter I forwarded according to my instructions assoon as I had parted with you two this afternoon.”
But one word had caught the other’s attention.
“Tommy?” he queried.
Tommy, who had just been released from his bonds, came towardsthem.
“Well done, brother Francis,” he said to Tuppence, taking both herhands in his. And to Dymchurch: “As I told you, my dear fellow, you reallyought to read the classics.”
第四章 阴险的陌生人历险记（1）
第四章 阴险的陌生人历险记
1“该死的无聊的一天。”汤米说，张大嘴打了个呵欠。
“差不多该是喝茶时间了。”塔彭丝说，也深深地打了个呵欠。
国际侦探所的生意并不兴隆。他们热切期盼的火腿商人的信件也一直没有来，“连续不断”的案子也没有来临。
阿尔伯特，那个办公室助理，拿进来一个密封的包裹，放在桌子上。
“又是密封包裹的秘密，”汤米嘟囔着，“难道里面有俄罗斯大公夫人价值连城的珠宝？
或者是能把布兰特卓越事务所炸为平地的可怕武器？”
“事实上，”塔彭丝说，撕开那个包裹，“这是我给弗兰西斯•哈维兰的结婚礼物，很漂亮，不是吗？”
汤米从她伸过来的手中拿起一个细长的银色香烟盒，铭刻着她笔迹的题词“致弗兰西斯——塔彭丝”，汤米打开又合上这个盒子，赞赏地点点头。
“你真大方，塔彭丝，”他发表意见，“我也想要一个这样的香烟盒，只是要金的，作为我下个月的生日礼物。想想花钱给弗兰西斯•哈维兰买这个东西，真是浪费啊，他一直都是而且永远都是上帝所造出的最完美的白痴！”
“你别忘了战争中我经常开车带他一起兜风，那时他是个上校。啊！真是令人怀念的好时光啊！”
“是啊，”汤米由衷地赞同，“漂亮的女人们总是到医院来，紧握我的手，这一切还历历在目。但是我却没有——给她们送过结婚礼物。我相信新娘不会在乎你这件礼物，塔彭丝。”
“这个盒子那么漂亮精巧，正适合放在口袋里，不是吗？”塔彭丝说，不理会他的评论。
汤米把这个烟盒放进自己的口袋。
“正好，”他赞同说，“喂，这儿有阿尔伯特送来的下午的邮件。极有可能是伯思郡公爵夫人委托我们去寻找她那只珍贵的京巴狗。”
他们一起把信件整理好，突然汤米吹了一声长长的口哨，手中高高举起一封信。
“蓝色的信封，俄国的邮戳！你还记得头儿说过的话吗？我们务必要留意这样的信件。”
“啊！太令人兴奋了，”塔彭丝说，“终于有事情发生了。打开，看看内容是不是和原先预料的一致。一个火腿商人，是不是？哦，等一会儿，我们应该买牛奶来泡茶。他们今天早晨忘了送来，我马上让阿尔伯特去买。”
她派阿尔伯特出去跑腿之后，又从外面的办公室匆匆回来，看到汤米手中拿着一页蓝色信纸。
“正如我们所料，塔彭丝，”他说，“差不多和头儿说的一模一样。”
塔彭丝从他手中拿过信仔细看。
信是用英文写的，措辞谨慎，语气僵硬，写信人自称是葛雷格尔•费奥多斯基，急于要找到他的妻子。委托国际侦探所不惜一切代价找到她。费奥多斯基自己由于猪肉生意危机，现在无法脱身离开俄国。
“我在想这封信的真实意图是什么。”塔彭丝若有所思地说，把信纸平铺在面前桌子上。
“某种代码，我猜，”汤米说，“不过，这不关我们的事。我们的任务是尽快把它交给头儿。最好浸湿邮戳验证一下，看看下面是否标有数字16。”
“好的，”塔彭丝说，“但是我认为应该——”
她突然闭口不言，汤米被吓了一跳，抬头一看，一个男人结实的身影堵在门口。
这名闯入者外表威严，虎背熊腰，圆头圆脑，下巴方正有力，四十五岁上下。
“请您务必原谅，”这个陌生人说着，已经进了房间，手中拿着帽子，“我看您外面的办公室没有人，而这扇门又开着，所以我就贸然闯了进来。这里是布兰特国际侦探所，对吧？”
“是的。”
“那么您是——可能是，布兰特先生？西奥多•布兰特？”
“我是布兰特，您有事咨询？这是我的秘书，鲁宾孙小姐。”
塔彭丝优雅地点头行礼，但是实际上一直透过下垂的睫毛仔细打量着这个陌生人。她在想这个人站在门口多久了，他看到了什么，又听到了多少？她注意到当他与汤米谈话时，他的眼光不时地来回看着她手中的蓝色信纸。
汤米以一种严厉的警告语气，叫她履行眼前的职责。
“鲁宾孙小姐，请拿起记录簿。那么，先生，您有什么事，需要我提供建议呢？”
塔彭丝拿起她的记录簿和铅笔。
这个大块头男人以一种刺耳的声音开始讲述。
“我叫鲍尔，查理丝•鲍尔医生。我住在汉普斯特德，在那儿开了一个诊所。我来见您，布兰特先生，是因为最近发生了几桩离奇的事情。”
“是吗，鲍尔医生？”
“上周有两次，有人打电话叫我出急诊——但结果却发现这两个电话传唤是假冒的。第一次我以为是有人搞的恶作剧，但是第二次我回来后发现我的一些私人信件被翻得一片狼藉。所以，我认为第一次也发生过同样的事情。我彻底检查了一下，发现我的整张桌子都被翻了一遍，各种文件都是在慌乱中被匆匆丢回抽屉的。”
鲍尔医生缓口气，盯着汤米。
“就是这样，布兰特先生？”
“谢谢，鲍尔医生。”年轻人微笑着回应。
“您对这一切怎么想，嗯？”
“哦，首先我应该了解事实。您的桌子里都有什么？”
“我的私人文件。”
“当然，那么，那些私人文件是什么内容？它们对于一个普通的贼——或者是什么特殊的人物来说有什么价值？”
“我根本看不出它们对普通的贼有什么价值，但是我对某些无名的生物碱的记录，倒有可能引起某些专业人士的兴趣。近几年来，我一直在做这方面的课题研究。这些生物碱有致命的剧毒，而且不易被检测到，还会引发未知的反应。”
“这种物质的秘密很值钱，是吧？”
“对那些道德沦丧的人来说，是的。”
“那么您怀疑会是谁干的呢？”
医生耸了耸他那宽阔的肩膀。
“目前，我只能说作案者并不是从外面破门而入。这似乎表明是我家中的什么人干的，但是我不敢相信——”他突然停下来，然后又继续说，声音沉重而严肃。
“布兰特先生，我必须全权委托您。我不敢把这件事报告给警察局，我一直几乎完全信任我的三个仆人。他们一直忠诚地为我服务。但是，知人知面不知心啊。另外，我和我的两个侄子一起生活，伯特伦和亨利。亨利是个好孩子——非常不错的小伙子——他从没让我操过心，品学兼优，上进努力。而伯特伦，很遗憾，是个完全不同的类型——狂野，放纵，一直游手好闲。”
“我明白了，”汤米若有所思地说，“您怀疑您的侄子伯特伦牵涉了这件事。不过我并不认同您的看法，我怀疑那个好孩子——亨利。”
“但是为什么？”
“一贯如此，”汤米轻轻摇着手，“依我的经验，嫌疑人总是看起来无辜——反之亦然，我亲爱的先生。是的，毫无疑问，我怀疑是亨利。”
“对不起，布兰特先生，”塔彭丝用一种恭敬的语气说，“我能否这样理解，鲍尔医生提到的那些关于……呃……生物碱……的记录是和其他文件一起放在书桌里的吗？”
“它们是保存在书桌里，尊敬的年轻女士，但是放在一个隐秘的抽屉里，这个抽屉只有我知道在哪儿。因此，它们不容易被找到。”
“您到底想要我做什么，鲍尔医生？”汤米问，“难道您想进一步搜查一下？”
“是的，布兰特先生。我完全有理由相信有必要这样做。今天下午我接到了一封电报，是我几周前接诊的伯恩茅斯的病人发来的。电报上说我的病人情况危急，请求我马上过去。鉴于刚才告诉您的这些事件，我有些怀疑电报的真实性。于是我亲自发了一封电报，预付了复电款，询问我那位病人的情况，结果他安然无恙，也没有给我发任何请求。我想如果假装我中了圈套，按时去了伯恩茅斯，这应该是把那个罪魁祸首抓个正着的良机。他们——或许是他——一定会等到家中的人睡下才动手。我建议你在今晚十一点钟到我的房子外面和我会合，我们一起把事情查个水落石出。”
“但愿如此，是应该抓他们个现形。”汤米沉思着说，用一把铅笔刀敲着桌面，“你的计划似乎天衣无缝，鲍尔医生，没有一丝破绽，让我想想——您的地址是——？”
“拉尔克斯宅邸，汉格曼斯莱恩巷——一个很冷清的地方。但是这并不妨碍我们在医学上有更广阔的视野。”
“正是。”汤米说。
来访者站起来。
“那么我今晚等你，布兰特先生。就在拉尔克斯，十点五十五分，为安全起见？”
“一言为定。十点五十五分。再会，鲍尔医生。”
汤米站起来，按下了桌上的蜂鸣器，阿尔伯特立刻过来送客。医生步履蹒跚却坚定地走了出去，这点不便对他强壮的体格来说并不算什么。
“一个难缠的家伙，”汤米自言自语，“好了，塔彭丝，我聪明的姑娘，你怎么看？”
“我告诉你一个词，”塔彭丝，“马蹄足！”
“什么？”
“我说马蹄足！我没有白研究经典侦探小说。汤米，这绝对是个圈套。不为人知的生物碱——我从没听说过这么蹩脚的故事。”
“我也觉得这件事不可信。”她的丈夫承认道。
“你有没有注意到他看信纸的目光？汤米，他是团伙中的一员。他们狡猾地意识到你不是真正的布兰特先生，他们出动，是来要我们命的。”
“既然如此，”汤米说，打开侧边的橱柜，深情地扫视着一排排的书，“我们的角色也不难选择，这次便是奥克伍德兄弟 [1] ！我是戴斯蒙德。”他语气坚定地说。
塔彭丝耸耸肩。
“好吧，随便你。我却宁愿是弗朗西斯。弗朗西斯是兄弟俩中更聪明的那位，戴斯蒙德总是把事情搞得一团糟，弗朗西斯却总是在关键时刻挺身而出，救场的总是他。”
“啊哈！”汤米说，“但是我将会是超级戴斯蒙德。一旦我到达拉尔克斯——”
塔彭丝毫不客气地打断他。
“你今晚不是真的要去汉普斯特德吧？”
“为什么不呢？”
“闭着眼去钻圈套？”
“不对，我亲爱的姑娘，我是睁着眼钻圈套。这招叫出其不意，我想咱们的朋友——鲍尔医生一定会大吃一惊。”
“我可不喜欢这个主意，”塔彭丝说，“你知道戴斯蒙德不服从上级命令，擅自行动是什么后果。给我们的指示十分明确，马上把信上交，立刻报告发生的一切。”
“但是你并没有完全理解指示精神，”汤米说，“如果有人来这儿，提到数字16，我们就要立报即告，但是目前并没有人这样做。”
“这是狡辩。”塔彭丝说。
“这样说可不好。我一直想单枪匹马干一次，我聪明绝顶的塔彭丝，别担心，我会毫发无损的。我会武装到牙齿再去。这件事的关键是，我有所防备而他们并不知情。头儿一定会拍着肩膀，夸奖我干得漂亮。”
“但是，”塔彭丝说，“我还是不喜欢这个主意，那个人壮得像只大猩猩。”
“啊哈！”汤米说，“但是别忘了我那把蓝鼻头自动手枪也不是吃素的。”
外面办公室的门开了，阿尔伯特走进来。他随手关上门，向他们走来，手里拿着一个信封。
“一位先生想见您，”阿尔伯特说，“我开始按惯例说您正给苏格兰场打电话时，他却说他完全了解这一套，还说自己就是从苏格兰场来的！他在一张名片上写了几个字，折起来放进了这个信封。”
汤米接过信封打开，看到那张名片时，一丝微笑掠过他的脸。
“这位先生在故弄玄虚逗你，阿尔伯特，”他说，“请他进来。”
他把名片扔给塔彭丝。上面署名迪姆彻奇探长。还用铅笔潦草地写着——“马里奥特探长的朋友”。
不一会儿这位苏格兰场的探长进来了。迪姆彻奇探长从外表看和马里奥特侦探差不多，身材矮小敦实，眼神敏锐。
“下午好，”这位探长活泼地说，“马里奥特远在南威尔士，他出发之前要求我看着你俩点儿，当然也看着这个地儿。哦，上帝保佑你们，先生，”看汤米要打断他，他赶紧继续说，“我们——对这儿的一切了如指掌。这儿不是我们部门管辖，我不便插手，但是近来某些人知道了你们的底细，事情好像有些不对劲儿。今天下午好像有位先生已经拜访过这儿，我不知道他是如何介绍自己的，也不知道他的真实姓名，但我还是对他略有了解。知道更多当然更好。如果我没猜错的话，他约你今晚在某个地方见面？”
“确实如此。”
“我想也是。在韦斯特勒姆路十六号，芬斯伯里公园——是不是？”
“这点您错了，”汤米微笑着说，“大错特错。拉尔克斯宅邸，汉普斯特德。”
迪姆彻奇看起来十分惊讶，他显然没有料到。
“真是出乎意料，”他脱口而出，“这里面一定有新的阴谋。拉尔克斯，汉普斯特德，你说？”
“是的，我今晚十一点要去和他会合。”
“您不能这么干，先生。”
“你看吧！”塔彭丝脱口而出。
汤米的脸涨红了。
“如果您认为，探长——”他激动起来。
但是这位探长举起手安抚他的情绪。
“我来告诉您我的打算，布兰特先生，今晚十一点您应该在这儿，就在这间办公室里。”
“什么？”塔彭丝喊道，目瞪口呆。
“在这儿，这间办公室。不要问我是怎么知道的——我们部门间时常互通信息——你们今天收到了那些著名的‘蓝色’信纸，我们已经关注这些信很长时间了。那位不知名的家伙就是闻风而来。他诱使你去汉普斯特德，等到确认你已上路，这幢房子空无一人的时候，就在晚上潜入这儿，不慌不忙地在这儿翻箱倒柜。”
“但是，为什么他会认为这封信就在这儿？他应该想到我会随身带着或交到什么地方。”
“请原谅，先生，这点正是他不知道的。他可能已经知道你不是真正的布兰特先生，但是他可能认为你是位‘善良’的绅士，纯粹出于做生意的目的买下了这个侦探所。那么，这封信就会按常规的商业信件处理，也会与其他信件一起归档保存。”
“哦，我明白了。”塔彭丝说。
“我们也正想让他们这样认为。我们今晚，就在这儿，抓他个现形。”
“这是整个计划，先生？”
“是的。这是千载难逢的机会。现在，让我看看，几点了？六点整。你一般是几点下班，先生？”
“六点左右。”
“你一定要像往常一样下班。而实际上我们要尽快溜回来。我认为他们不到十一点不会来这儿，不过也可能提前。对不起，我要去外面看看有没有什么人在监视这里。”
迪姆彻奇一出办公室，汤米和塔彭丝就争论起来。
双方唇枪舌剑，各不相让，越来越激烈，双方都免不了说些尖酸刻薄的话。最后，塔彭丝突然让步了。
“好吧，好吧，”她说，“我投降。我回家待着，像个听话的小姑娘。而你却去抓捕坏蛋，和侦探们密谋策划——但是，你等着，年轻人。尽管你不带我玩，我还是要跟着你。”
迪姆彻奇这时回来了。
“危机解除了，”他说，“但是也不敢说太绝对。稳妥起见还是要像往常一样下班，一旦你走后，他们就不会再盯着这儿。”
汤米打电话给阿尔伯特，吩咐他锁门。
然后，他们来到附近车库，平时就是从这里把车开走的。塔彭丝发动车子，阿尔伯特坐在她身旁。汤米和侦探坐在后面。
不久，由于交通拥挤，他们被堵在街上一栋房子前。塔彭丝扭头往后望了望，点点头。汤米和侦探打开右车门，下了车，走到牛津大街中央，一两分钟后塔彭丝开车离去。
第四章 阴险的陌生人历险记（2）
2“现在最好不要进去，”当他们急急赶到黑尔汉姆大街时，迪姆彻奇说，“你一直带着钥匙吧？”
汤米点点头。
“那吃点晚饭如何？现在还早，正对面恰好有个小馆子，我们在窗边订个桌子，这样就可以一直观察这地方。”
按照侦探的建议，他们的便饭进行得很愉快，汤米发现迪姆彻奇探长是个让人愉快的伙伴，他大部分公务都是和国际间谍打交道，能讲很多足以让他这个朴实的听众瞠目结舌的传奇故事。
他们在小餐馆一直待到八点钟，迪姆彻奇提议开始行动。
“天色已经暗了，先生，”他解释道，“我们完全可以神知鬼不觉地溜进去。”
确实，外面天色漆黑。他们迅速穿过马路，警惕地打量了一下空荡荡的大街，溜进大门。然后他们拾级而上，走进这栋房子，上了楼，汤米掏出钥匙插进外面办公室的锁孔。
就在这时，他突然听到——也许只是他以为自己听到——迪姆彻奇在他身旁吹了声口哨。
“为什么吹口哨？”他厉声问道。
“我没有吹口哨，”迪姆彻奇十分吃惊地说，“我还以为是你吹的。”
“哦，有人——”汤米说。
他没有说完。一双强劲的手从后面抱住了他，他还没来得及喊叫，一团甜腻的令人作呕的东西就捂住了他的口鼻。
他拼命挣扎，但是徒劳无功。三氯甲烷药效发作了。他开始头晕，地板在面前上下晃动。他觉得透不过气来，紧接着昏了过去。
他缓缓醒过来，头痛难当，但全身并未丧失力量。他们只用了极少量的三氯甲烷，等麻醉剂充分发挥作用，便塞上他的嘴，确保他无法大喊大叫。
醒过来后，他发现自己半躺半坐地靠在里面办公室的一个墙角里。两个男人正匆匆翻找桌子里的东西，洗劫橱柜，一边翻找，一边无所顾忌地骂着粗话。
“真他妈晦气，”那个高个儿声音刺耳，“我们把这个倒霉的地方翻了个底朝天，那东西根本连个影儿都不见。”
“一定在这儿，”另一个男人咆哮道，“那封信不可能在别的地方。”
他边说边转过身，让汤米无比震惊的是，他看到后一个说话的正是迪姆彻奇探长。后者看到汤米惊愕的表情，咧笑狞笑起来。
“哦，我们年轻的朋友醒过来了，”他说，“有点吃惊吧——是，有点吃惊。但是，这也不足为怪。我们一直怀疑国际侦探所已经不是原来的那个侦探所了。我自告奋勇来看看是不是这么回事。如果新任布兰特先生确实是个间谍，那他就有极大的嫌疑，所以我先派了我的老朋友，卡尔•鲍尔打个前站。我让卡尔表现得可疑些，编一个离奇的故事。他依计而行，然后我适时地出现，以马里奥特的名义获得你的信任，剩下的你都清楚了。”
他大笑起来。
汤米急于想说点什么，但是嘴里塞的那团东西却让他说不出话来。他也急于想干点什么——得动用手和脚——但是，哎呀，这两个物件可是重点关注对象啊，已经被绑得结结实实。
最让他吃惊的是，站在他面前的这个男人变化如此之大。因为在他的印象中迪姆彻奇探长是个典型的英国男人，没有人会误以为他是一个受过良好教育的外国人，因为他操着一口纯正的不带任何口音的英语。
“考金斯，我的好朋友，”这个冒牌的探长对他长相凶恶的同伴说，“拿起你的家伙，站到这个囚犯旁边。我要拿掉塞口器。你要知道，亲爱的布兰特先生，大声喊叫没有用，是愚蠢透顶的行为。在你的同龄人中，你算是个非常聪明的家伙。”
他动作敏捷地拿掉汤米的塞口器，后退一步。汤米活动了一下僵硬的上下颌，在嘴里把舌头转了一圈，吞了两口唾沫——却什么也没说。
“我欣赏你的自控力，”对方说，“看来你现在感觉还好，就没有什么要说的吗？”
“该说的总会说的，”汤米说，“又不会变质。”
“啊哈，该说的总会说的。一句话，布兰特先生，那封信在哪儿？”
“亲爱的朋友，我不知道，”汤米揶揄道，“我又没随身带着。这一点，你知道得更清楚，但如果我是你，就会把这间房子翻个底朝天，我还想看你和你的朋友考金斯一起玩猫捉老鼠的游戏呢。”
面前的这个人沉下了脸。
“你很喜欢油嘴滑舌啊，布兰特先生，你看旁边那个彪形大汉。那是考金斯，像个炸药包……是的，一触即发的炸药包——钢铁也会被炸得粉碎，要是他被激怒的话……”
汤米痛苦地摇摇头。
“一次错误判断，酿成大错，”他嘟囔着，“塔彭丝和我错误估计了这次冒险行动。这可不是个简单的马蹄足的故事，这是斗牛犬德拉蒙德的故事，而你就是那个独一无二的卡尔•彼得森 [2] 。”
“你在嘟囔什么废话。”另一个咆哮道。
“哈哈，”汤米说，“看来您没读过多少经典侦探小说，太遗憾了。”
“愚蠢的笨蛋！你到底给不给我们要的东西？我是不是该让考金斯把他的家伙拿出来啊？”
“耐心点儿，”汤米说，“我会照你们的吩咐做，只要你告诉我该做什么。你知道我可不想被撕成鱼片在烤架上煎成烤肉。我非常怕疼。”
迪姆彻奇轻蔑地看着他。
“考特 [3] ！这些英国人都是胆小鬼！”
“人之常情，亲爱的朋友，只是人之常情。把炸药包放一边，让我们先谈谈实质性的问题。”
“我要那封信。”
“我告诉你了我没有。”
“这我们知道——我们也知道一定在谁手里，就是那个女孩。”
“极有可能你是对的。”汤米说，“她可能把信放进了她的手包中，因为你们的伙伴卡尔打草惊蛇了。”
“哦，你并不否认。这很明智。很好，你给那个叫塔彭丝的女孩写个条，叫她立刻带着信来这儿。”
“我不能这么做。”汤米坚决地说。
不等他说完，对方就打断了他的话。
“哼！你不能？好吧，我们倒要看看，考金斯！”
“别着急，”汤米说，“你应该等我说完。我刚才想说除非你解开我胳膊。我可不是那种可以用鼻子或胳膊肘写字的怪胎。”
“那么你愿意写了？”
“当然。我不是一直都这样说吗？我向来乐于助人。当然你也不会对塔彭丝做什么不友善的事情。我坚信您不会。她是那么讨人喜欢的一个女孩。”
“我们只想要那封信。”迪姆彻奇说，但脸上却浮现出一种异样的令人不快的微笑。
他点点头，凶恶的考金斯蹲下身，解开汤米胳膊上的绳索。汤米来回晃晃胳膊。
“啊，好多了，”他愉快地说，“好心的考金斯能递给我一支铅笔吗？就在桌上，我想——还有其他必需的东西。”
考金斯皱着眉头把笔递给他，同时递给他一张纸。
“小心你的措辞，”迪姆彻奇威胁地说，“你看着办，但是这事办不成就意味着——死——并且是慢慢地、痛苦地死。”
“既然这样，”汤米说，“我一定会尽力而为。”
他思考了一两分钟，然后开始在纸上奋笔疾书。
“这样写怎么样？”他问，把写完的信递给那位冒牌探长。
亲爱的塔彭丝：
你能马上带那封蓝色的信件过来吗？我们想现在破译那封信。
务必快点。
弗朗西斯
“弗朗西斯？”这个冒牌的探长耸起眉头狐疑地问，“她是这么称呼你的？”
“你又没有出席我的洗礼，”汤米说，“我想你不会知道这到底是不是我的名字。但是你从我口袋中拿走的那个香烟盒足以证明我说的是真话。”
另一个人走到桌边，拿起那个烟盒，读道“致弗朗西斯，塔彭丝”，他微微一笑，然后又放下了。
“很高兴你这么识时务，”他说，“考金斯，把这个便条给瓦西里。他在外面放哨，告诉他马上去办。”
接下来的二十分钟十分漫长，而其后的十分钟就更加难熬。迪姆彻奇在屋里大步地来回踱着，脸色越来越阴沉。终于，他停下来转过身威胁地盯着汤米。
“你胆敢对我们耍花招？”他咆哮道。
“如果有副纸牌，或许我们可以玩扑克打发时间，”汤米慢吞吞地说，“女人嘛，总是让人等待。我希望等小塔彭丝到了，你别对她不友善。”
“哦，不会，”迪姆彻奇说，“会把你们一起扔到同一个地方。”
“你敢，你这头蠢猪。”汤米低声咕哝道。
突然，前面办公室出现了一点骚动。一个汤米从未见过的男人探进头来，用俄语咆哮了几句。
“好，”迪姆彻奇说，“她来了——单独来的。”
一瞬间，汤米心脏几乎停止了跳动。
接着他听到了塔彭丝的声音。
“哦！你们在这儿，迪姆彻奇探长。我带来了那封信，弗朗西斯在哪儿？”
话音未落，她已经进了门。瓦西里猛然从后面扑过来，用手死死捂住她的嘴。迪姆彻奇从她手中一把抢过手包，倒出里面的东西，疯狂翻找。
他突然惊喜地大喊一声，举起一个带有俄国邮票的蓝色信封。考金斯也哑着嗓子叫了一声。
就在他们狂喜之时，另一扇门，通往塔彭丝办公室的门，无声无息地开了，马里奥特探长和其他两个手持左轮手枪的男子悄然走进这个房间，同时厉声命令道“举起手来”。
没有人反抗。迪姆彻奇的手枪扔在桌子上，其他两个人赤手空拳。他们显然毫无反抗之力。
“真是个大丰收，”马里奥特探长一边称赞，一边咔嗒扣上最后一副手铐，“我希望随着时间推移，我们会收获更多。”
迪姆彻奇脸都气白了，狠狠瞪着塔彭丝。
“你这个该死的小妖精，”他怒吼，“是你把他们带来的。”
塔彭丝大笑起来。
“这可不是我一个人的功劳。今天下午当你进来脱口说出数字‘16’时，我就应该想到。
但是汤米的便条解决了问题。我打电话给马里奥特探长，让阿尔伯特带着办公室的备用钥匙去见他，我自己则在手包中带着空信封来到这儿。至于里面的信嘛，今天下午我和你们两个一分手，就按照指令把信件转交了。”
她讲述中的一个词语引起了对方的注意。
“汤米？”他问道。
汤米，刚刚从五花大绑中解脱出来，走向他们。
“干得好，弗朗西斯兄弟，”他对塔彭丝说，把她的两只手握在手中。然后对迪姆彻奇说：“正如我告诫您的，亲爱的朋友，你真应该好好读读经典侦探小说。”
[1]瓦伦丁•威廉（Valentine Williams, 1883—1946），在《神秘之手》（The Secret Hand）中创作的人物。
[2]《斗牛犬德拉蒙德》（Bull-dog Drummond），英国间谍小说，是英国作家沙波（Sapper）的代表作。卡尔•彼得森（Carl Peterson）是书中主角德拉蒙德的对手。
[3]即考金斯的昵称。
Nine THE MAN IN THE MIST（3）
III
It was the day after the crime. Tommy and Tuppence were still at theGrand Hotel, but Tommy had thought it prudent to discard his clerical dis-guise.
James Reilly had been apprehended, and was in custody. His solicitor,Mr. Marvell, had just finished a lengthy conversation with Tommy on thesubject of the crime.
“I never would have believed it of James Reilly,” he said simply. “He’s al-ways been a man of violent speech, but that’s all.”
Tommy nodded.
“If you disperse energy in speech, it doesn’t leave you too much over foraction. What I realise is that I shall be one of the principal witnessesagainst him. That conversation he had with me just before the crime wasparticularly damning. And, in spite of everything, I like the man, and ifthere was anyone else to suspect, I should believe him to be innocent.
What’s his own story?”
The solicitor pursed up his lips.
“He declares that he found her lying there dead. But that’s impossible, ofcourse. He’s using the first lie that comes into his head.”
“Because, if he happened to be speaking the truth, it would mean thatthe garrulous Mrs. Honeycott committed the crime—and that is fantastic.
Yes, he must have done it.”
“The maid heard her cry out, remember.”
“The maid—yes—”
Tommy was silent a moment. Then he said thoughtfully.
“What credulous creatures we are, really. We believe evidence asthough it were gospel truth. And what is it really? Only the impressionconveyed to the mind by the senses—and suppose they’re the wrong im-pressions?”
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh! we all know that there are unreliable witnesses, witnesses who re-member more and more as time goes on, with no real intention to de-ceive.”
“I don’t mean only that. I mean all of us—we say things that aren’t reallyso, and never know that we’ve done so. For instance, both you and I,without doubt, have said some time or other, ‘There’s the post,’ when whatwe really meant was that we’d heard a double knock and the rattle of theletter-box. Nine times out of ten we’d be right, and it would be the post,but just possibly the tenth time it might be only a little urchin playing ajoke on us. See what I mean?”
“Ye-es,” said Mr. Marvell slowly. “But I don’t see what you’re drivingat?”
“Don’t you? I’m not so sure that I do myself. But I’m beginning to see. It’slike the stick, Tuppence. You remember? One end of it pointed one way—but the other end always points the opposite way. It depends whether youget hold of it by the right end. Doors open—but they also shut. People goupstairs, but they also go downstairs. Boxes shut, but they also open.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Tuppence.
“It’s so ridiculously easy, really,” said Tommy. “And yet it’s only justcome to me. How do you know when a person’s come into the house. Youhear the door open and bang to, and if you’re expecting any one to comein, you will be quite sure it is them. But it might just as easily be someonegoing out.”
“But Miss Glen didn’t go out?”
“No, I know she didn’t. But some one else did—the murderer.”
“But how did she get in, then?”
“She came in whilst Mrs. Honeycott was in the kitchen talking to Ellen.
They didn’t hear her. Mrs. Honeycott went back to the drawing room,wondered if her sister had come in and began to put the clock right, andthen, as she thought, she heard her come in and go upstairs.”
“Well, what about that? The footsteps going upstairs?”
“That was Ellen, going up to draw the curtains. You remember, Mrs.
Honeycott said her sister paused before going up. That pause was just thetime needed for Ellen to come out from the kitchen into the hall. She justmissed seeing the murderer.”
“But, Tommy,” cried Tuppence. “The cry she gave?”
“That was James Reilly. Didn’t you notice what a high-pitched voice hehas? In moments of great emotion, men often squeal just like a woman.”
“But the murderer? We’d have seen him?”
“We did see him. We even stood talking to him. Do you remember thesudden way that policeman appeared? That was because he stepped out ofthe gate, just after the mist cleared from the road. It made us jump, don’tyou remember? After all, though we never think of them as that, police-men are men just like any other men. They love and they hate. Theymarry. .?.?.
“I think Gilda Glen met her husband suddenly just outside that gate, andtook him in with her to thrash the matter out. He hadn’t Reilly’s relief ofviolent words, remember. He just saw red—and he had his truncheonhandy. .?.?.”
第五章 小牌戏老K
第五章 小牌戏老K
一个湿冷的周三，国际侦探事务所。塔彭丝任由手中的《领导者日报》滑落在地。
“你知道我在想什么吗，汤米？”
“说不上来，”她丈夫回答，“你满脑子主意，一会儿一个想法。”
“我想我们应该去跳跳舞。”
汤米迅速捡起《领导者日报》。
“我们的广告看起来不错，”他说，歪着脑袋，“布兰特事务所卓越的侦探们。你有没有意识到，塔彭丝，你我正是布兰特事务所卓越的侦探？你该觉得自豪，正如儿歌中的矮胖子所歌颂的一般。”
“别岔开话题，我说的是跳舞。”
“我刚才注意到这份报纸上有个疑点。不知道你是否注意到了。拿起这三份《领导者日报》好好看看，你能告诉我它们有什么不同吗？”
塔彭丝有些好奇地拿起报纸。
“好像很容易，”她讽刺地说，“一张今天的，一张昨天的，一张前天的。”
“才华横溢，亲爱的华生先生。但我不是这个意思，仔细看这个大标题‘领导者日报’，比较一下那三份报纸——能看出它们有什么不同吗？”
“没有，我看不出，”塔彭丝说，“而且，我也不相信有什么不同。”
汤米叹了口气，然后模仿他最崇拜的福尔摩斯做了个手势——把手指指尖撮在一起。
“是吗，但是你每天和我一样读报纸——事实上，比我读得还要多。但是我观察到了，而你没有。你如果仔细看一下今天的《领导者日报》标题 [1] ，你会发现，D字母向下的一笔中间有个白色的小点，同一个单词的L中间也有一个白点。但是昨天的报纸，白点又根本不在‘DAILY’这个单词上，而‘LEADER’一词的‘L’上却有两个白点。前天的报纸上，‘LEADER’一词的‘D’字母上再次出现了两个白点。实际上，这白点，或者这些白点，每天都出现在不同的位置。”
“为什么会这样？”塔彭丝问。
“这是新闻业特有的一个秘密。”
“那也就是说你也看不懂，猜不着呗。”
“我只能说——这是所有报纸的老把戏。”
“你真是太聪明了！”塔彭丝说，“特别是在转移话题方面。现在回到咱们原来的话题上。”
“我们刚才在谈什么来着？”
“三艺舞厅。”
汤米咕哝道：
“不，不是吧，塔彭丝。别谈什么三艺舞厅。我可不再年轻了，我向你保证我经不起折腾。”
“当我还是年轻漂亮的姑娘时，”塔彭丝说，“从小就被灌输一种思想，男人——特别是做丈夫的——是圈不住的动物，喜欢喝酒、跳舞、鬼混到深夜。除非美貌异常和聪明绝顶的妻子，才能把他们圈在家里。但是，这又是一个被戳破的谎言！据我所知，几乎所有太太都渴望出门寻欢作乐。但她们只能哭诉，因为她们的丈夫会早早地趿着拖鞋，九点半就上床睡觉。但是你跳舞跳得多好啊，汤米，亲爱的。”
“少甜言蜜语啦，塔彭丝。”
“实际上，”塔彭丝说，“这可不是因为我喜欢寻欢作乐，是那个广告激起了我的兴趣。”
她又拿起《领导者日报》，大声念道：
“我应该出三个红桃，十二墩牌，黑桃王后，必要时出小牌巧胜老K。”
“这可是种昂贵的学桥牌的方式。”汤米评价道。
“别闹，这和桥牌没什么关系。我昨天和一个女孩在‘黑桃王后’餐厅吃饭。它在切尔西区，是一个可疑的地下贼窝。那女孩告诉我，现在很流行在晚上举办的大型化装舞会上，吃烤肉、煎蛋和威尔士奶烙——或者波希米亚食品之类的东西。里面到处是用布帘隔开的小单间。相当热闹又刺激。”
“那么，你打算——”
“三张红桃象征三艺舞厅；十二墩牌代表明天晚上十二点钟，黑桃A就是黑桃A。”
“那么‘必要时出小牌巧胜老K’是什么意思？”
“嗯，我想这正是我们要探寻的。”
“我不会妄加评论，说你不对，塔彭丝，”汤米大度地说，“但是我想不明白你为什么总想插手别人的风流韵事呢？”
“我才不插手别人的事。我只是在提议办一个有趣的案子。我们需要锻炼，不是吗？”
“做生意注定不容易。”汤米赞同道，“不过，塔彭丝，其实你就是想去三艺舞厅跳跳舞！东拉西扯一大堆。”
塔彭丝厚脸皮地大笑起来。
“运动运动，汤米，别老想着你三十二岁了，还有你左边眉毛里的一根灰白毛发。”
“一牵涉到女人的事，我就不在行，”她丈夫嗫嚅着，“我是不是应该用奇装异服捯饬一下，让自己看上去像头蠢驴？”
“当然，但是这个任务交给我，我已经有了个极好的主意。”
汤米有些疑虑地看着她，他一直对塔彭丝所谓的绝妙主意心存怀疑。
第二天晚上，当他回到公寓，塔彭丝飞也似的跑出卧室迎接他。
“到了。”她大声说。
“什么到了？”
“服装啊。来看看。”
汤米跟她走进卧室。床上铺展着一套消防员的行头，旁边还放着一个闪亮的头盔。
“我的天啊，”汤米呻吟了一声，“难道我参加了温布利消防队？”
“再猜猜，”塔彭丝说，“你还没有理解我的意思。用用你那小小的灰色细胞，我的朋友[2] 。开动脑筋，华生，做头竞赛场上能殊死搏斗十几分钟的公牛。”
“等一下，”汤米说，“我开始摸着点门道了，这其中一定还有别的目的。你穿什么，塔彭丝。”
“你的一套旧衣服，一顶美式礼帽，一副角质眼镜。”
“一副粗野相，”汤米说，“但是我明白了。你扮的是隐姓埋名的麦卡蒂，而我则是赖尔登。”
“正是，我认为我们不但应该使用英国的侦探方式，也该尝试一下美国的方式。就这一次，我来扮演明星，而你委屈一下，做回低声下气的仆人。”
“别忘了，”汤米警告说，“关键时候，正是那个愚蠢的丹尼斯 [3] 天真的观点总把麦卡蒂拉回到正确轨道上来。”
但是塔彭丝只是大笑。她兴致很高。
这是个令人难忘的夜晚。狂欢的人群，喧嚣的音乐，奇装异服——这一切都诱使这对年轻夫妇玩得不亦乐乎。此刻汤米完全忘了自己曾是个煞风景的丈夫，是被硬拖到这儿来的。
十一点五十分，他们离开舞厅，驾车去了著名的——或许也不那么出名——“黑桃A”餐厅。正如塔彭丝所说，这是个地下贼窝，尽管看起来花哨俗艳，那儿却挤满了身着奇装异服的出双入对的男女。沿墙边一溜紧闭的包厢，汤米和塔彭丝订了一间，他们故意留了一条门缝，这样就可以看到外面发生了什么。
“我在纳闷他们是谁——我们要找的人，我是说，”塔彭丝说，“会不会是那边那个戴着红色梅菲斯特 [4] 面具的科伦芭茵 [5] ？”
“我怀疑那个邪恶的身着满清官服的人，或者那个自称战舰的女人——其实更像艘巡航舰，我得说。”
“他很机智吧？”塔彭丝说，“一小滴酒，就瘫软了！瞧，正进来的打扮成红桃皇后的是谁——相当好的打扮。”
说话间，他们口中的那位姑娘和她的护花使者经过他们进了旁边的包厢，这位先生全身披挂着报纸，这是来自《爱丽丝梦游仙境》的造型。他们俩都戴着面具——在“黑桃皇后”餐厅这种打扮似乎并无新奇之处。
“我敢肯定，咱们身处一个名副其实的魔窟之中，”塔彭丝一脸喜色地说，“到处是些不知羞耻的家伙，大喊大叫！”
突然一声尖叫——听起来像是反抗的叫声——从隔壁包厢里传出来，随即被一个男人的大笑声淹没了。人人都在大笑，歌唱。女人们刺耳的尖叫声不时盖过她们男伴的低沉的声音。
“那个牧羊女怎么样？”汤米问道，“和那个穿着滑稽的法国人在一起的，他们可能是我们要找的人。”
“这儿的每个人都有嫌疑，”塔彭丝说，“但我不想费神，现在最重要的是快活，尽情欢乐。”
“要是换身行头我会更快活，”汤米抱怨道，“你是不知道这身衣服有多热。”
“高兴点，”塔彭丝说，“你看起来很可爱。”
“听你这样说我很高兴，”汤米说，“你看起来更可爱，你是我见过的最滑稽可笑的小丑。”
“你能不能文雅一点，丹尼，我的小伙子。喂，那个身披报纸的绅士扔下他的女伴走了。他要去哪儿，你认为？”
“去催侍者上酒吧，我猜，”汤米说，“我也想去。”
“他去太久了，”五六分钟后塔彭丝说，“汤米，你会不会认为我太笨了——”她停下来。
突然她跳了起来。
“叫我笨蛋吧，只要你愿意，我马上要去隔壁。”
“小心，塔彭丝——你不能——”
“我觉得有什么不对劲，我就知道不对劲，别想拦我。”
她飞快地穿过他们的包厢，汤米紧随其后。隔壁包厢的门紧闭着。塔彭丝推开门进去，汤米紧跟在她后面。
装扮成红桃皇后的女孩背靠墙坐在角落里，身体奇怪地蜷成一团。透过面具，她双眼直直地盯着两人，但身子却一动不动。她的衣服大胆地设计成红白相间的图案，但是左手边的图案似乎模糊不清。那上面有太多不应有的红色……塔彭丝惊叫一声冲上前去。同时，汤米也看到了一切，那女孩心脏下方插着一把镶宝石的匕首，塔彭丝扑通一下跪在那个女孩旁边。
“快点，汤米，她还活着。赶紧去找老板，让他立刻请个医生来。”
“好，小心不要碰到那把匕首的柄，塔彭丝。”
“我会小心的，快去。”
汤米匆忙跑了出去，随手拉上身后的门。塔彭丝双臂环抱着那个女孩。女孩虚弱地做了个手势，塔彭丝明白她想除掉面具，塔彭丝小心翼翼地取下面具。眼前呈现出一张水灵灵的鲜花般的脸庞，大大的明亮的眼睛，里面却充满恐惧、痛苦和茫然。
“亲爱的，”塔彭丝轻声说，“你能说话吗？能不能告诉我，是谁干的？”
她感觉到那双眼睛盯着自己的脸。女孩痛苦地呻吟着，那是即将衰竭的心脏发出的深重的叹息声。她仍然盯着塔彭丝，终于微微张开了双唇：
“宾戈干的——”她急促地喘息着说。
话未说完，她一下松开了手，颓然偎在了塔彭丝肩上。
汤米回来了，身后跟着两个人。其中个头较大的那位径直走上前来，满身权威的神气，脸上似乎鲜明印着“医生”两个字。
塔彭丝放下了那个女孩。
“她死了，恐怕。”她有些哽咽。
医生迅速地做了检查。
“是的，”他说，“救不回来了。我们最好维护现场，等警察来。这是怎么回事？”
塔彭丝吞吞吐吐地介绍了事情的经过，含糊地讲述了一下她进入这个包厢的原因。
“这就太奇怪了，”医生说，“你什么都没听到？”
“我听到她尖叫了一声，然后一个男人大笑起来。实际上，当时我也没想到——”
“你自然不会想到，”医生赞同说，“你说那个男人戴着面具，你认不出他？”
“我想是的，你呢，汤米？”
“我也认不出来，他还穿着化装服。”
“首先最重要的是要确认这个可怜女士的身份，”医生说，“然后，呃，我想警察会很快破案，这不应该是件棘手的案子。啊，他们来了。”
[1]原文为DAILY LEADER。
[2]原文为法语。
[3]汤米•麦卡蒂（Tommy McCarty）和丹尼斯•赖尔登（Dennis Riordan）分别是美国侦探小说作家伊莎贝尔•奥斯特兰德（Isabel Ostrander，1883—1924）书中的侦探及其好友。该作家的作品为少年迪克森•卡尔所喜爱，亦得到多萝西•塞耶斯的称赞。
[4]歌德作品《浮士德》中的魔鬼。
[5]意大利、英国等传统喜剧及哑剧中丑角的情人。
Five FINESSING THE KING
Five FINESSING THE KING

It was a wet Wednesday in the offices of the International DetectiveAgency. Tuppence let the Daily Leader fall idly from her hand.
“Do you know what I’ve been thinking, Tommy?”
“It’s impossible to say,” replied her husband. “You think of so manythings, and you think of them all at once.”
“I think it’s time we went dancing again.”
Tommy picked up the Daily Leader hastily.
“Our advertisement looks well,” he remarked, his head on one side.
“Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives. Do you realise, Tuppence, that you and youalone are Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives? There’s glory for you, as HumptyDumpty would say.”
“I was talking about dancing.”
“There’s a curious point that I have observed about newspapers. I won-der if you have ever noticed it. Take these three copies of the Daily Leader.
Can you tell me how they differ one from the other?”
Tuppence took them with some curiosity.
“It seems fairly easy,” she remarked witheringly. “One is today’s, one isyesterday’s, and one is the day before’s.”
“Positively scintillating, my dear Watson. But that was not my meaning.
Observe the headline, ‘Daily Leader.’ Compare the three—do you see anydifference between them?”
“No, I don’t,” said Tuppence, “and what’s more, I don’t believe there isany.”
Tommy sighed and brought the tips of his fingers together in the mostapproved Sherlock Holmes fashion.
“Exactly. Yet you read the papers as much—in fact, more than I do. But Ihave observed and you have not. If you will look at today’s Daily Leader,you will see that in the middle of the downstroke of the D is a small whitedot, and there is another in the L of the same word. But in yesterday’s pa-per the white dot is not in DAILY at all. There are two white dots in the Lof LEADER. That of the day before again has two dots in the D of DAILY. Infact, the dot, or dots, are in a different position every day.”
“Why?” asked Tuppence.
“That’s a journalistic secret.”
“Meaning you don’t know, and can’t guess.”
“I will merely say this—the practice is common to all newspapers.”
“Aren’t you clever?” said Tuppence. “Especially at drawing red herringsacross the track. Let’s go back to what we were talking about before.”
“What were we talking about?”
“The Three Arts Ball.”
Tommy groaned.
“No, no, Tuppence. Not the Three Arts Ball. I’m not young enough. I as-sure you I’m not young enough.”
“When I was a nice young girl,” said Tuppence, “I was brought up to be-lieve that men — especially husbands — were dissipated beings, fond ofdrinking and dancing and staying up late at night. It took an exceptionallybeautiful and clever wife to keep them at home. Another illusion gone! Allthe wives I know are hankering to go out and dance, and weeping becausetheir husbands will wear bedroom slippers and go to bed at half past nine.
And you do dance so nicely, Tommy dear.”
“Gently with the butter, Tuppence.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Tuppence, “it’s not purely for pleasure that Iwant to go. I’m intrigued by this advertisement.”
She picked up the Daily Leader again and read it out.
“I should go three hearts. 12 tricks. Ace of Spades. Necessary to finessethe King.”
“Rather an expensive way of learning bridge,” was Tommy’s comment.
“Don’t be an ass. That’s nothing to do with bridge. You see, I was lunch-ing with a girl yesterday at the Ace of Spades. It’s a queer little under-ground den in Chelsea, and she told me that it’s quite the fashion at thesebig shows to trundle round there in the course of the evening for baconand eggs and Welsh rarebits—Bohemian sort of stuff. It’s got screened-offbooths all around it. Pretty hot place, I should say.”
“And your idea is—?”
“Three hearts stands for the Three Arts Ball, tomorrow night, 12 tricks istwelve o’clock, and the Ace of Spades is the Ace of Spades.”
“And what about its being necessary to finesse the King?”
“Well, that’s what I thought we’d find out.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if you weren’t right, Tuppence,” said Tommy mag-nanimously. “But I don’t quite see why you want to butt in upon otherpeople’s love affairs.”
“I shan’t butt in. What I’m proposing is an interesting experiment in de-tective work. We need practice.”
“Business is certainly not too brisk,” agreed Tommy. “All the same, Tup-pence, what you want is to go to the Three Arts Ball and dance! Talk of redherrings.”
Tuppence laughed shamelessly.
“Be a sport, Tommy. Try and forget you’re thirty-two and have got onegrey hair in your left eyebrow.”
“I was always weak where women were concerned,” murmured herhusband. “Have I got to make an ass of myself in fancy dress?”
“Of course, but you can leave that to me. I’ve got a splendid idea.”
Tommy looked at her with some misgiving. He was always profoundlymistrustful of Tuppence’s brilliant ideas.
When he returned to the flat on the following evening, Tuppence cameflying out of her bedroom to meet him.
“It’s come,” she announced.
“What’s come?”
“The costume. Come and look at it.”
Tommy followed her. Spread out on the bed was a complete fireman’skit with shining helmet.
“Good God!” groaned Tommy. “Have I joined the Wembley fire bri-gade?”
“Guess again,” said Tuppence. “You haven’t caught the idea yet. Useyour little grey cells, mon ami. Scintillate, Watson. Be a bull that has beenmore than ten minutes in the arena.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tommy. “I begin to see. There is a dark purpose inthis. What are you going to wear, Tuppence?”
“An old suit of your clothes, an American hat and some horn spec-tacles.”
“Crude,” said Tommy. “But I catch the idea. McCarty incog. And I am Ri-ordan.”
“That’s it. I thought we ought to practise American detective methods aswell as English ones. Just for once I am going to be the star, and you willbe the humble assistant.”
“Don’t forget,” said Tommy warningly, “that it’s always an innocent re-mark by the simple Denny that puts McCarty on the right track.”
But Tuppence only laughed. She was in high spirits.
It was a most successful evening. The crowds, the music, the fantasticdresses — everything conspired to make the young couple enjoy them-selves. Tommy forgot his role of the bored husband dragged out againsthis will.
At ten minutes to twelve they drove off in the car to the famous—or in-famous—Ace of Spades. As Tuppence had said, it was an undergroundden, mean and tawdry in appearance, but it was nevertheless crowdedwith couples in fancy dress. There were closed-in booths round the walls,and Tommy and Tuppence secured one of these. They left the doors pur-posely a little ajar so that they could see what was going on outside.
“I wonder which they are—our people, I mean,” said Tuppence. “Whatabout that Columbine over there with the red Mephistopheles?”
“I fancy the wicked Mandarin and the lady who calls herself a Battleship—more of a fast Cruiser, I should say.”
“Isn’t he witty?” said Tuppence. “All done on a little drop of drink!
Who’s this coming in dressed as the Queen of Hearts—rather a good get-up, that.”
The girl in question passed into the booth next to them, accompanied byher escort, who was “the gentleman dressed in newspaper” from Alice inWonderland. They were both wearing masks—it seemed to be rather acommon custom at the Ace of Spades.
“I’m sure we’re in a real den of iniquity,” said Tuppence with a pleasedface. “Scandals all round us. What a row everyone makes.”
A cry, as of protest, rang out from the booth next door and was coveredby a man’s loud laugh. Everybody was laughing and singing. The shrillvoices of the girls rose above the booming of their male escorts.
“What about that shepherdess?” demanded Tommy. “The one with thecomic Frenchman. They might be our little lot.”
“Any one might be,” confessed Tuppence. “I’m not going to bother. Thegreat thing is that we are enjoying ourselves.”
“I could have enjoyed myself better in another costume,” grumbledTommy. “You’ve no idea of the heat of this one.”
“Cheer up,” said Tuppence. “You look lovely.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Tommy. “It’s more than you do. You’re the funni-est little guy I’ve ever seen.”
“Will you keep a civil tongue in your head, Denny, my boy. Hullo, thegentleman in newspaper is leaving his lady alone. Where’s he going, doyou think?”
“Going to hurry up the drinks, I expect,” said Tommy. “I wouldn’t minddoing the same thing.”
“He’s a long time doing it,” said Tuppence, when four or five minuteshad passed. “Tommy, would you think me an awful ass—” She paused.
Suddenly she jumped up.
“Call me an ass if you like. I’m going in next door.”
“Look here, Tuppence—you can’t—”
“I’ve a feeling there’s something wrong. I know there is. Don’t try andstop me.”
She passed quickly out of their own booth, and Tommy followed her.
The doors of the one next door were closed. Tuppence pushed them apartand went in, Tommy on her heels.
The girl dressed as the Queen of Hearts sat in the corner leaning upagainst the wall in a queer huddled position. Her eyes regarded themsteadily through her mask, but she did not move. Her dress was carriedout in a bold design of red and white, but on the left hand side the patternseemed to have got mixed. There was more red than there should havebeen. .?.?.
With a cry Tuppence hurried forward. At the same time, Tommy sawwhat she had seen, the hilt of a jewelled dagger just below the heart. Tup-pence dropped on her knees by the girl’s side.
“Quick, Tommy, she’s still alive. Get hold of the manager and make himget a doctor at once.”
“Right. Mind you don’t touch the handle of that dagger, Tuppence.”
“I’ll be careful. Go quickly.”
Tommy hurried out, pulling the doors to behind him. Tuppence passedher arm round the girl. The latter made a faint gesture, and Tuppencerealised that she wanted to get rid of the mask. Tuppence unfastened itgently. She saw a fresh, flower-like face, and wide starry eyes that werefull of horror, suffering, and a kind of dazed bewilderment.
“My dear,” said Tuppence, very gently. “Can you speak at all? Will youtell me, if you can, who did this?”
She felt the eyes fix themselves on her face. The girl was sighing, thedeep palpitating sighs of a failing heart. And still she looked steadily atTuppence. Then her lips parted.
“Bingo did it—” she said in a strained whisper.
Then her hands relaxed, and she seemed to nestle down on Tuppence’sshoulder.
Tommy came in, two men with him. The bigger of the two came forwardwith an air of authority, the word doctor written all over him.
Tuppence relinquished her burden.
“She’s dead, I’m afraid,” she said with a catch in her voice.
The doctor made a swift examination.
“Yes,” he said. “Nothing to be done. We had better leave things as theyare till the police come. How did the thing happen?”
Tuppence explained rather haltingly, slurring over her reasons for en-tering the booth.
“It’s a curious business,” said the doctor. “You heard nothing?”
“I heard her give a kind of cry, but then the man laughed. Naturally Ididn’t think—”
“Naturally not,” agreed the doctor. “And the man wore a mask you say.
You wouldn’t recognise him?”
“I’m afraid not. Would you, Tommy?”
“No. Still there is his costume.”
“The first thing will be to identify this poor lady,” said the doctor. “Afterthat, well, I suppose the police will get down to things pretty quickly. Itought not to be a difficult case. Ah, here they come.”
Six THE GENTLEMAN DRESSED IN NEWSPAPER
Six THE GENTLEMAN DRESSED IN NEWSPAPER

It was after three o’clock when, weary and sick at heart, the husband andwife reached home. Several hours passed before Tuppence could sleep.
She lay tossing from side to side, seeing always that flower-like face withthe horror-stricken eyes.
The dawn was coming in through the shutters when Tuppence finallydropped off to sleep. After the excitement, she slept heavily and dream-lessly. It was broad daylight when she awoke to find Tommy, up anddressed, standing by the bedside, shaking her gently by the arm.
“Wake up, old thing. Inspector Marriot and another man are here andwant to see you.”
“What time is it?”
“Just on eleven. I’ll get Alice to bring you your tea right away.”
“Yes, do. Tell Inspector Marriot I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
A quarter of an hour later, Tuppence came hurrying into the sittingroom. Inspector Marriot, who was sitting looking very straight and sol-emn, rose to greet her.
“Good morning, Mrs. Beresford. This is Sir Arthur Merivale.”
Tuppence shook hands with a tall thin man with haggard eyes and grey-ing hair.
“It’s about this sad business last night,” said Inspector Marriot. “I wantSir Arthur to hear from your own lips what you told me—the words thepoor lady said before she died. Sir Arthur has been very hard to con-vince.”
“I can’t believe,” said the other, “and I won’t believe, that Bingo Haleever hurt a hair of Vere’s head.”
Inspector Marriot went on.
“We’ve made some progress since last night, Mrs. Beresford,” he said.
“First of all we managed to identify the lady as Lady Merivale. We commu-nicated with Sir Arthur here. He recognised the body at once, and washorrified beyond words, of course. Then I asked him if he knew anyonecalled Bingo.”
“You must understand, Mrs. Beresford,” said Sir Arthur, “that CaptainHale, who is known to all his friends as Bingo, is the dearest pal I have. Hepractically lives with us. He was staying at my house when they arrestedhim this morning. I cannot but believe that you have made a mistake—itwas not his name that my wife uttered.”
“There is no possibility of mistake,” said Tuppence gently. “She said,‘Bingo did it—’ ”
“You see, Sir Arthur,” said Marriot.
The unhappy man sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands.
“It’s incredible. What earthly motive could there be? Oh, I know youridea, Inspector Marriot. You think Hale was my wife’s lover, but even ifthat were so—which I don’t admit for a moment—what motive was therefor killing her?”
Inspector Marriot coughed.
“It’s not a very pleasant thing to say, sir. But Captain Hale has been pay-ing a lot of attention to a certain young American lady of late—a younglady with a considerable amount of money. If Lady Merivale liked to turnnasty, she could probably stop his marriage.”
“This is outrageous, Inspector.”
Sir Arthur sprang angrily to his feet. The other calmed him with a sooth-ing gesture.
“I beg your pardon, I’m sure, Sir Arthur. You say that you and CaptainHale both decided to attend this show. Your wife was away on a visit atthe time, and you had no idea that she was to be there?”
“Not the least idea.”
“Just show him that advertisement you told me about, Mrs. Beresford.”
Tuppence complied.
“That seems to me clear enough. It was inserted by Captain Hale to catchyour wife’s eye. They had already arranged to meet there. But you onlymade up your mind to go the day before, hence it was necessary to warnher. That is the explanation of the phrase, ‘Necessary to finesse the King.’
You ordered your costume from a theatrical firm at the last minute, butCaptain Hale’s was a home- made affair. He went as the Gentlemandressed in Newspaper. Do you know, Sir Arthur, what we found clasped inthe dead lady’s hand? A fragment torn from a newspaper. My men haveorders to take Captain Hale’s costume away with them from your house. Ishall find it at the Yard when I get back. If there’s a tear in it correspond-ing to the missing piece—well, it’ll be the end of the case.”
“You won’t find it,” said Sir Arthur. “I know Bingo Hale.”
Apologising to Tuppence for disturbing her, they took their leave.
Late that evening there was a ring at the bell, and somewhat to the as-tonishment of the young pair Inspector Marriot once more walked in.
“I thought Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives would like to hear the latest devel-opments,” he said, with a hint of a smile.
“They would,” said Tommy. “Have a drink?”
He placed materials hospitably at Inspector Marriot’s elbow.
“It’s a clear case,” said the latter, after a minute or two. “Dagger was thelady’s own—the idea was to have made it look like suicide evidently, butthanks to you two being on the spot, that didn’t come off. We’ve foundplenty of letters—they’d been carrying on together for some time, that’sclear—without Sir Arthur tumbling to it. Then we found the last link—”
“The last what?” said Tuppence sharply.
“The last link in the chain—that fragment of the Daily Leader. It wastorn from the dress he wore—fits exactly. Oh, yes, it’s a perfectly clearcase. By the way, I brought round a photograph of those two exhibits—Ithought they might interest you. It’s very seldom that you get such a per-fectly clear case.”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, when her husband returned from showingthe Scotland Yard man out, “why do you think Inspector Marriot keeps re-peating that it’s a perfectly clear case?”
“I don’t know. Smug satisfaction, I suppose.”
“Not a bit of it. He’s trying to get us irritated. You know, Tommy,butchers, for instance, know something about meat, don’t they?”
“I should say so, but what on earth—”
“And in the same way, greengrocers know all about vegetables, and fish-ermen about fish. Detectives, professional detectives, must know all aboutcriminals. They know the real thing when they see it—and they knowwhen it isn’t the real thing. Marriot’s expert knowledge tells him that Cap-tain Hale isn’t a criminal—but all the facts are dead against him. As a lastresource Marriot is egging us on, hoping against hope that some little de-tail or other will come back to us—something that happened last night—which will throw a different light on things. Tommy, why shouldn’t it besuicide, after all?”
“Remember what she said to you.”
“I know—but take that a different way. It was Bingo’s doing—his con-duct that drove her to kill herself. It’s just possible.”
“Just. But it doesn’t explain that fragment of newspaper.”
“Let’s have a look at Marriot’s photographs. I forgot to ask him whatHale’s account of the matter was.”
“I asked him that in the hall just now. Hale declared he had neverspoken to Lady Merivale at the show. Says somebody shoved a note intohis hand which said, “Don’t try and speak to me tonight. Arthur suspects.”
He couldn’t produce the piece of paper, though, and it doesn’t sound avery likely story. Anyway, you and I know he was with her at the Ace ofSpades, because we saw him.”
Tuppence nodded and pored over the two photographs.
One was a tiny fragment with the legend DAILY LE—and the rest tornoff. The other was the front sheet of the Daily Leader with the small roundtear at the top of it. There was no doubt about it. Those two fitted togetherperfectly.
“What are all those marks down the side?” asked Tommy.
“Stitches,” said Tuppence. “Where it was sewn to the others, you know.”
“I thought it might be a new scheme of dots,” said Tommy. Then he gavea slight shiver. “My word, Tuppence, how creepy it makes one feel. Tothink that you and I were discussing dots and puzzling over that advertise-ment—all as lighthearted as anything.”
Tuppence did not answer. Tommy looked at her and was startled to ob-serve that she was staring ahead of her, her mouth slightly open, and a be-wildered expression on her face.
“Tuppence,” said Tommy gently, shaking her by the arm, “what’s thematter with you? Are you just going to have a stroke or something?”
But Tuppence remained motionless. Presently she said in a farawayvoice:
“Denis Riordan.”
“Eh?” said Tommy, staring.
“It’s just as you said. One simple innocent remark! Find me all thisweek’s Daily Leaders.”
“What are you up to?”
“I’m being McCarty. I’ve been worrying round, and thanks to you, I’vegot a notion at last. This is the front sheet of Tuesday’s paper. I seem to re-member that Tuesday’s paper was the one with two dots in the L ofLEADER. This has a dot in the D of DAILY—and one in the L too. Get methe papers and let’s make sure.”
They compared them anxiously. Tuppence had been quite right in herremembrance.
“You see? This fragment wasn’t torn from Tuesday’s paper.”
“But Tuppence, we can’t be sure. It may merely be different editions.”
“It may—but at any rate it’s given me an idea. It can’t be coincidence—that’s certain. There’s only one thing it can be if I’m right in my idea. Ringup Sir Arthur, Tommy. Ask him to come round here at once. Say I’ve gotimportant news for him. Then get hold of Marriot. Scotland Yard willknow his address if he’s gone home.”
Sir Arthur Merivale, very much intrigued by the summons, arrived atthe flat in about half an hour’s time. Tuppence came forward to greet him.
“I must apologise for sending for you in such a peremptory fashion,” shesaid. “But my husband and I have discovered something that we think youought to know at once. Do sit down.”
Sir Arthur sat down, and Tuppence went on.
“You are, I know, very anxious to clear your friend.”
Sir Arthur shook his head sadly.
“I was, but even I have had to give in to the overwhelming evidence.”
“What would you say if I told you that chance has placed in my hands apiece of evidence that will certainly clear him of all complicity?”
“I should be overjoyed to hear it, Mrs. Beresford.”
“Supposing,” continued Tuppence, “that I had come across a girl whowas actually dancing with Captain Hale last night at twelve o’clock—thehour when he was supposed to be at the Ace of Spades.”
“Marvellous!” cried Sir Arthur. “I knew there was some mistake. PoorVere must have killed herself after all.”
“Hardly that,” said Tuppence. “You forget the other man.”
“What other man?”
“The one my husband and I saw leave the booth. You see, Sir Arthur,there must have been a second man dressed in newspaper at the ball. Bythe way, what was your own costume?”
“Mine? I went as a seventeenth century executioner.”
“How very appropriate,” said Tuppence softly.
“Appropriate, Mrs. Beresford. What do you mean by appropriate?”
“For the part you played. Shall I tell you my ideas on the subject, Sir Ar-thur? The newspaper dress is easily put on over that of an executioner.
Previously a little note has been slipped into Captain Hale’s hand, askinghim not to speak to a certain lady. But the lady herself knows nothing ofthat note. She goes to the Ace of Spades at the appointed time and sees thefigure she expects to see. They go into the booth. He takes her in his arms,I think, and kisses her—the kiss of a Judas, and as he kisses he strikes withthe dagger. She only utters one faint cry and he covers that with a laugh.
Presently he goes away—and to the last, horrified and bewildered, she be-lieves her lover is the man who killed her.
“But she has torn a small fragment from the costume. The murderer no-tices that—he is a man who pays great attention to detail. To make thecase absolutely clear against his victim the fragment must seem to havebeen torn from Captain Hale’s costume. That would present great diffi-culties unless the two men happened to be living in the same house. Then,of course, the thing would be simplicity itself. He makes an exact duplicateof the tear in Captain Hale’s costume—then he burns his own and pre-pares to play the part of the loyal friend.”
Tuppence paused.
“Well, Sir Arthur?”
Sir Arthur rose and made her a bow.
“The rather vivid imagination of a charming lady who reads too muchfiction.”
“You think so?” said Tommy.
“And a husband who is guided by his wife,” said Sir Arthur. “I do notfancy you will find anybody to take the matter seriously.”
He laughed out loud, and Tuppence stiffened in her chair.
“I would swear to that laugh anywhere,” she said. “I heard it last in theAce of Spades. And you are under a little misapprehension about us both.
Beresford is our real name, but we have another.”
She picked up a card from the table and handed it to him. Sir Arthurread it aloud.
“International Detective Agency .?.?.” He drew his breath sharply. “Sothat is what you really are! That was why Marriot brought me here thismorning. It was a trap—”
He strolled to the window.
“A fine view you have from here,” he said. “Right over London.”
“Inspector Marriot,” cried Tommy sharply.
In a flash the Inspector appeared from the communicating door in theopposite wall.
A little smile of amusement came to Sir Arthur’s lips.
“I thought as much,” he said. “But you won’t get me this time, I’m afraid,Inspector. I prefer to take my own way out.”
And putting his hands on the sill, he vaulted clean through the window.
Tuppence shrieked and clapped her hands to her ears to shut out thesound she had already imagined — the sickening thud far beneath. In-spector Marriot uttered an oath.
“We should have thought of the window,” he said. “Though, mind you, itwould have been a difficult thing to prove. I’ll go down and—and—see tothings.”
“Poor devil,” said Tommy slowly. “If he was fond of his wife—”
But the Inspector interrupted him with a snort.
“Fond of her? That’s as may be. He was at his wits’ end where to turn formoney. Lady Merivale had a large fortune of her own, and it all went tohim. If she’d bolted with young Hale, he’d never have seen a penny of it.”
“That was it, was it?”
“Of course, from the very start, I sensed that Sir Arthur was a bad lot,and that Captain Hale was all right. We know pretty well what’s what atthe Yard—but it’s awkward when you’re up against facts. I’ll be goingdown now—I should give your wife a glass of brandy if I were you, Mr.
Beresford—it’s been upsetting like for her.”
“Greengrocers,” said Tuppence in a low voice as the door closed behindthe imperturbable Inspector, “butchers, fishermen, detectives. I was right,wasn’t I? He knew.”
Tommy, who had been busy at the sideboard, approached her with alarge glass.
“Drink this.”
“What is it? Brandy?”
“No, it’s a large cocktail—suitable for a triumphant McCarty. Yes, Mar-riot’s right all round—that was the way of it. A bold finesse for game andrubber.”
Tuppence nodded.
“But he finessed the wrong way round.”
“And so,” said Tommy, “exit the King.”
第六章 披挂报纸的绅士
第六章 披挂报纸的绅士
凌晨三点后，这对疲惫不堪的夫妇才回到家。又过了好几个小时，塔彭丝才睡着。她一晚上辗转反侧，眼前总是浮现出那副花儿一般的脸庞和那双充斥着恐惧的眼睛。
黎明的曙光透过百叶窗时，塔彭丝终于沉入了梦乡。在强烈的刺激之后，她沉沉地睡去，也没有做梦。当她醒来时，天已经大亮，汤米已经起身穿好衣服，站在床边，轻轻摇着她的胳膊。
“醒醒，小东西，马里奥特探长和另一位先生来了，想和你谈谈。”
“几点了？”
“刚刚十一点，我让艾莉丝马上给你端杯茶来。”
“好的，告诉马里奥特探长，十分钟后我就到。”
十五分钟后，塔彭丝急匆匆走进客厅。马里奥特探长，正襟危坐，一见塔彭丝立刻站起来，和她打招呼。
“早上好，贝尔斯福德太太，这位是亚瑟•梅斯韦尔先生。”
塔彭丝和来人握握手，这是个瘦高个儿的男人，面容憔悴，头发灰白。
“我们是为昨天晚上发生的那件悲惨的事情而来，”马里奥特探长说，“我想让亚瑟先生亲耳听您说说——那个可怜的女孩临终前说的话。亚瑟先生不相信——”
“我不能相信，”另一个人说道，“也不愿相信，宾戈•黑尔会伤害梅丝维尔哪怕一根头发。”
马里奥特探长继续说：
“昨天晚上到现在，案子取得了一些进展，贝尔斯福德太太。首先，我们确认了这位女士的身份，她是梅丝韦尔女士，我们和这位亚瑟先生取得联系，他马上辨认出了尸体。当然，他也感到无比震惊和悲愤。然后，我问他是否认识叫宾戈的什么人。”
“你一定要理解，贝尔斯福德太太，”亚瑟先生说，“黑尔上尉，他的朋友都叫他‘宾戈’。他是我认识的最和蔼的家伙。实际上他和我们住在一起，今天上午逮捕他时，他就待在房子里。我真是难以置信，您一定搞错了——我妻子临终说的一定不是他的名字。”
“绝对没错，”塔彭丝轻轻地说，“她亲口说的，‘宾戈干的——’”
“您看，您听见了吧，亚瑟先生？”马里奥特说。
这个悲伤的男人跌坐在一把椅子里，举起双手蒙住脸。
“真是难以置信，到底是为了什么啊？哦，我明白您的想法了，马里奥特探长，您认为黑尔是我妻子的情人，但即便是这样——其实我根本不能接受这点——那为什么要杀了她？”
马里奥特探长咳嗽起来。
“这件事说起来确实令人尴尬，先生。但是黑尔上尉近来一直对一位年轻的美国女郎十分关注——一位十分富有的年轻女郎。如果梅丝韦尔女士想维持这段有伤风化的关系，就有可能破坏他的姻缘。”
“您这话令人无法忍受，探长！”
亚瑟先生愤怒地站起身来，而对方却用一个安慰的手势示意他镇静。
“请原谅，亚瑟先生，我清楚地记得，您说您和黑尔上尉都决定参加这场化装舞会。您妻子这时恰好出门拜访什么人，而您根本不知道她会在那儿？”
“我确实一点也不知道。”
“让他看看您向我提到过的那则广告，贝尔斯福德太太。”
塔彭丝照做了。
“在我看来，一切似乎够清楚了。黑尔上尉故意把这张广告插进门缝里，来引起您妻子的注意。他们已经约好在那儿约会。但是您打定主意要去，因此他有必要提醒她。这就是那句话——‘必要时出小牌战胜老K’的注解。您最后一刻才在一家戏服公司订了您的服装，但是黑尔先生却是自制的戏服。他打扮成披挂报纸的绅士。您知道，亚瑟先生，我们在死去的这位女士的手中发现了什么？从报纸上撕下的一张碎片。我的人已经从您家拿走了黑尔上尉的舞会服装。我回到警局就能查出真相。如果他的服装上有和撕下的这块相吻合的缺口的话——一切真相大白，可以结案了。”
“您不会找到的，”亚瑟先生说，“我了解宾戈•黑尔。”
他俩对打扰塔彭丝表示歉意之后，就离开了。
当天深夜，有人摁响了门铃，令这对年轻夫妇有些吃惊的是，马里奥特探长再次来访。
“我想布兰特卓越的侦探们会乐于听到这个案子的最新进展。”他说，嘴角带着一丝微笑。
“当然，”汤米说，“喝一杯？”
他热情地把一杯酒放在马里奥特手边。
“案情十分明朗，”后者说，停顿了一两分钟，“匕首是这位女士自己的——凶手意图把这事搞得像明显的自杀，但多亏你俩在场，他没能如愿。我们发现了大量的信件——他们有一段时间一直争吵不断，显然——亚瑟先生被蒙在鼓里。然后我们发现了决定性的一环——”
“决定性的什么？”塔彭丝大声问道。
“整个案件环节中最关键的一环——那张《领导者日报》的碎片，是从他穿的化装服上扯下来的——完全吻合。啊，是的，案情并不复杂。另外，我顺便带来了那两件物证的照片——我想你们可能对它们感兴趣。很少能遇到像这样案情明朗的案件。”
“汤米，”塔彭丝说，当她的丈夫送走这位苏格兰场的官员回来时，“你说为什么马里奥特探长一个劲地强调这个案子案情简单？”
“不知道，我想他只是有些沾沾自喜吧。”
“才不是呢。他是想刺激我们，你知道，汤米，屠夫最了解他们案板上的肉，对吧？”
“可能吧，但是你到底想说什么——”
“同样，菜贩了解蔬菜，渔夫了解鱼。侦探们，特别是职业侦探，一定对形形色色的罪犯了如指掌。他们调查案件时一眼便知真相——当然也一眼看出哪些是假象。马里奥特的专业知识告诉他黑尔上尉不是真凶——尽管所有的证据都指向他。马里奥特探长把我们作为最后的砝码押上了，他抱着一线希望，希望我们会回想起一些蛛丝马迹来——昨晚发生的一切——或许某些我们忽略的细节会让整个案情柳暗花明。汤米，为什么这终究不会是桩自杀案？”
“别忘了她对你说了什么。”
“我记得——但是换个角度分析，宾戈——他的行为迫使她自杀，这也是有可能的。”
“是，但是无法解释报纸碎片。”
“让我们看看马里奥特的照片。可惜我忘了问他黑尔对这件事怎么看。”
“我刚刚在走廊里问过他了。黑尔说他在舞会上从未和梅里韦尔女士说过话，还说有人塞给他一张纸条，上面写着：‘今晚不要和我说话，亚瑟起了疑心，’他不可能捏造出那张纸条。但是，这似乎也不合理，不管怎样，你和我都知道他和她一起在‘黑桃皇后’餐厅里，因为我们看见过他。”
塔彭丝点点头，仔细观察着这两张照片。
其中一张拍的报纸碎片上，只剩下标题“领导者日报”（DAILY LEADER）中的几个字母——“YLE”——其余的被撕掉了。另外一张是报纸的第一版，上面有一个圆形缺口。无疑，这两片可以完全吻合。
“下面那些斑点是什么？”汤米问。
“针眼，”塔彭丝说，“一页报纸与其他页面就从那儿缝在一起，知道吧。”
“我还以为它是一组新的圆点呢，”汤米说，然后轻轻打了个寒战，“我的天，塔彭丝，这让人多么毛骨悚然，想想你和我曾经讨论圆点，争论那则广告的真正含义——当时是多么轻松愉快。”
塔彭丝没有回答，汤米看看她，却吃惊地发现她正直视着正前方，嘴巴微张，脸上露出困惑的神色。
“塔彭丝，”汤米轻声说，轻轻摇摇她的手臂，“你怎么了？你刚刚是中风了还是怎么？”
但是塔彭丝还是一动不动。过了一会儿，她才恍恍惚惚地说道：
“丹尼斯•赖尔登。”
“什么？”汤米说，瞪大眼睛。
“正如你所说，一个简单的直接证据！给我找来这周的《领导者日报》。”
“你要干什么？”
“我要做麦卡蒂。我一直疑惑不解，多亏你的话，最终才有了思路。这张照片拍的是周二报纸的第一版。我似乎记得周二的报纸在领导者‘LEADER’一词的‘L’字母上有两个圆点。而照片中这张报纸日报‘daily’一词的‘D’字母上有一个圆点——字母‘L’上也有一个。给我那些报纸，让我们确认一下。”
他们急切地把照片和报纸进行比对。塔彭丝记得很准。
“你看清楚了吗？这张碎片不是来自周二的报纸。”
“但是塔彭丝，我们不能确认，可能只是不同的版次。”
“可能——但是不管怎样它给了我一个启发。这不是巧合——一定。如果我的想法是对的，那么只有一个可能，打电话给亚瑟先生，汤米，请他马上到这儿来。就说我有重要的消息告诉他。你赶紧联系马里奥特探长，如果他已经回家了，苏格兰场肯定知道他的地址。”
亚瑟•梅里韦尔先生被这个电话激起了浓厚的兴趣，一个半小时后他来到这所公寓。塔彭丝走上前欢迎他。
“我很抱歉这么贸然叫您来，”她说，“但是我丈夫和我发现了一些重要情况，我们认为应该马上让您知道。请坐吧。”
亚瑟先生坐下后，塔彭丝继续说：
“我知道，您一定急于想为您的朋友澄清。”
亚瑟先生痛苦地摇摇头。
“我曾经这样想，但是现在在这些无法辩驳的证据面前，不得不服。”
“如果我告诉您我手中恰好有一个证据，一定可以让他摆脱所有的指控，您会怎么说？”
“我会很高兴听到这个消息，贝尔斯福德太太。”
“假设，”塔彭丝继续说，“我遇到了一个女孩，她昨天晚上十二点时确实和黑尔先生跳过舞，而那时他应该是在黑桃皇后餐厅。”
“太好了，”亚瑟先生大叫，“我就知道一定是弄错了。可怜的维尔一定是自杀。”
“根本不是，”塔彭丝说，“您忘了另一个男人。”
“哪个男人？”
“就是我和我丈夫看到的那个离开包厢的人。您看，亚瑟先生，舞会上一定有第二个披挂报纸的男人。顺便问一下，您在舞会上穿的什么衣服？
“我？我化装成十七世纪的刽子手。”
“再恰当不过了。”塔彭丝轻声说。
“恰当，贝尔斯福德太太，您说‘恰当’是什么意思？”
“我是说您扮演的角色。我可以告诉您我关于这件事的看法吗，亚瑟先生？用报纸做的服装可以轻松套在刽子手的服装外面。在这之前，有人把一张小纸条塞在黑尔上尉手中，请他不要和某位女士谈话。但是这位女士自己对此却一无所知。她在约定时间去了黑桃皇后餐厅，跟她约好的那个人碰面。他们进了包厢，他把她搂在怀里，我猜，他还吻了她——这是犹大之吻，随着这一吻，一把匕首刺进了她的心脏。她只来得及发出一声无力的喊叫，但他用大笑声盖过了这声喊叫。不久，他离开了——在极度恐惧、迷惑之中，她始终相信是他的情人对自己下了手。
“但是她从对方的服装上撕下了一角，凶手发现了——他是一个十分关注细节的人。为了让案子的证据十分清楚地指向他想陷害的人，这碎片一定要看起来是从黑尔上尉的服装上撕下来的。要做到这点相当困难，除非这两个人住在同一所房子里。然而，这件事本来就十分简单。他从黑尔的舞会服装上刻意撕下一模一样的碎片，然后烧掉了自己的服装，扮演一个忠实的朋友的角色。”
塔彭丝停下来。
“怎么样，亚瑟先生？”
亚瑟站起来，对她弯了弯腰。
“一位读了太多侦探故事的漂亮女士的生动幻想。”
“您也这样认为？”汤米说。
“还有一位被妻子牵着鼻子的丈夫。”亚瑟先生说，“我想没有人会相信你的胡话。”
他大笑起来，塔彭丝一下在椅子上挺直身体。
“我发誓我一定在什么地方听到过这种笑声，”她说，“上一次是在黑桃皇后餐厅。您不太了解我们俩，贝尔斯福德是我们的真名，但是我们还有另外一个名字。”
她从桌上拿起一张名片递给他。亚瑟先生大声念道：
“国际侦探所……”他呼吸急促起来，“那么这是你们的真实身份！这就是为什么马里奥特今天上午带我来这儿。这是个圈套——”
他走到窗边。
“这儿的风景真不错，”他说，“可以俯瞰伦敦城。”
“马里奥特探长。”汤米大喊。
探长从对面通往会客室的那扇门外闪进身来。
一丝讽刺的微笑浮现在亚瑟先生的唇边。
“我早就料到了，”他说，“但是这次恐怕你抓不住我，探长，我宁愿以自己的方式了结。”
说着，他把双手放在窗台上，用力一撑，跃出了窗外。
塔彭丝尖叫一声，把双手捂住耳朵，以免听到将会发出的巨响——物体坠落的“嘭”的一声，远远地从下面传来。马里奥特探长咒骂了一句。
“我们该想到这扇窗户，”他说，“但是，不管怎样，多亏你俩的帮助，这个案子本来很难取证。对不起，我要下去，呃——呃——去看看情况。”
“啊，可怜的魔鬼！”汤米慢慢说，“如果他真爱他的妻子——”
但是探长“哼”了一声打断他。
“爱她？鬼才相信。他黔驴技穷，无处筹钱。梅里韦尔女士自己有一大笔财富，都可能归他所有。如果她和那个年轻的黑尔卷钱跑了，他将永远得不到一分钱。”
“啊，是那样啊？”
“当然，从一开始，我就觉得亚瑟先生是个坏蛋，那个黑尔上尉是无辜的。我们都深知苏格兰场的办案方式，如果你的结论跟证据南辕北辙会很尴尬。好了，我现在下去——如果我是你，就会给你的妻子一杯白兰地，贝尔斯福德先生——这个案子让她费心了。”
“菜贩子，”塔彭丝低声说，当这个冷静的探长关门离开后，“屠夫，渔夫，还有侦探，各有所长。我是对的，是吧？他对一切罪犯了如指掌。”
这时，汤米刚在餐柜旁忙活完，拿着一只大酒杯来到她身边。
“喝了这个。”
“什么？白兰地？”
“不，一大杯鸡尾酒——正合一位扬扬得意的麦卡蒂的胃口。是的，马里奥特是对的——一直都是对的。一个大胆的出小牌扳倒老K的策略。”
塔彭丝点点头。
“但是智者千虑，必有一失。”
“所以，”汤米说，“让老K以这种方式出了局。”
Seven THE CASE OF THE MISSING LADY
Seven THE CASE OF THE MISSING LADY

The buzzer on Mr. Blunt’s desk—International Detective Agency, Manager,Theodore Blunt—uttered its warning call. Tommy and Tuppence both flewto their respective peepholes which commanded a view of the outer office.
There it was Albert’s business to delay the prospective client with variousartistic devices.
“I will see, sir,” he was saying. “But I’m afraid Mr. Blunt is very busy justat present. He is engaged with Scotland Yard on the phone just now.”
“I’ll wait,” said the visitor. “I haven’t got a card with me, but my name isGabriel Stavansson.”
The client was a magnificent specimen of manhood, standing over sixfoot high. His face was bronzed and weather-beaten, and the extraordin-ary blue of his eyes made an almost startling contrast to the brown skin.
Tommy swiftly made up his mind. He put on his hat, picked up somegloves and opened the door. He paused on the threshold.
“This gentleman is waiting to see you, Mr. Blunt,” said Albert.
A quick frown passed over Tommy’s face. He took out his watch.
“I am due at the Duke’s at a quarter to eleven,” he said. Then he lookedkeenly at the visitor. “I can give you a few minutes if you will come thisway.”
The latter followed him obediently into the inner office, where Tup-pence was sitting demurely with pad and pencil.
“My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Tommy. “Now, sir, per-haps you will state your business? Beyond the fact that it is urgent, thatyou came here in a taxi, and that you have lately been in the Arctic—orpossibly the Antarctic, I know nothing.”
The visitor stared at him in amazement.
“But this is marvellous,” he cried. “I thought detectives only did suchthings in books! Your office boy did not even give you my name!”
Tommy sighed deprecatingly.
“Tut, tut, all that was very easy,” he said. “The rays of the midnight sunwithin the Arctic circle have a peculiar action upon the skin—the actinicrays have certain properties. I am writing a little monograph on the sub-ject shortly. But all this is wide of the point. What is it that has broughtyou to me in such distress of mind?”
“To begin with, Mr. Blunt, my name is Gabriel Stavansson—”
“Ah! of course,” said Tommy. “The well-known explorer. You have re-cently returned from the region of the North Pole, I believe?”
“I landed in England three days ago. A friend who was cruising in north-ern waters brought me back on his yacht. Otherwise I should not have gotback for another fortnight. Now I must tell you, Mr. Blunt, that before Istarted on this last expedition two years ago, I had the great good fortuneto become engaged to Mrs. Maurice Leigh Gordon—”
Tommy interrupted.
“Mrs. Leigh Gordon was, before her marriage—?”
“The Honourable Hermione Crane, second daughter of LordLanchester,” reeled off Tuppence glibly.
Tommy threw her a glance of admiration.
“Her first husband was killed in the war,” added Tuppence.
Gabriel Stavansson nodded.
“That is quite correct. As I was saying, Hermione and I became engaged.
I offered, of course, to give up this expedition, but she wouldn’t hear ofsuch a thing—bless her! She’s the right kind of woman for an explorer’swife. Well, my first thought on landing was to see Hermione. I sent a tele-gram from Southampton, and rushed up to town by the first train. I knewthat she was living for the time being with an aunt of hers, Lady SusanClonray, in Pont Street, and I went straight there. To my great disappoint-ment, I found that Hermy was away visiting some friends in Northumber-land. Lady Susan was quite nice about it, after getting over her first sur-prise at seeing me. As I told you, I wasn’t expected for another fortnight.
She said Hermy would be returning in a few days’ time. Then I asked forher address, but the old woman hummed and hawed—said Hermy wasstaying at one or two different places and that she wasn’t quite sure whatorder she was taking them in. I may as well tell you, Mr. Blunt, that LadySusan and I have never got on very well. She’s one of those fat womenwith double chins. I loathe fat women—always have—fat women and fatdogs are an abomination unto the Lord—and unfortunately they so oftengo together! It’s an idiosyncrasy of mine, I know—but there it is—I nevercan get on with a fat woman.”
“Fashion agrees with you, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy dryly. “Andevery one has their own pet aversion—that of the late Lord Roberts wascats.”
“Mind you, I’m not saying that Lady Susan isn’t a perfectly charmingwoman—she may be, but I’ve never taken to her. I’ve always felt, deepdown, that she disapproved of our engagement, and I feel sure that shewould influence Hermy against me if that were possible. I’m telling youthis for what it’s worth. Count it out as prejudice if you like. Well, to go onwith my story, I’m the kind of obstinate brute who likes his own way. Ididn’t leave Pont Street until I’d got out of her the names and addresses ofthe people Hermy was likely to be staying with. Then I took the mail trainnorth.”
“You are, I perceive, a man of action, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy,smiling.
“The thing came upon me like a bombshell. Mr. Blunt, none of thesepeople had seen a sign of Hermy. Of the three houses, only one had beenexpecting her—Lady Susan must have made a bloomer over the other two—and she had put off her visit there at the last moment by telegram. I re-turned post haste to London, of course, and went straight to Lady Susan. Iwill do her the justice to say that she seemed upset. She admitted that shehad no idea where Hermy could be. All the same, she strongly negativedany idea of going to the police. She pointed out that Hermy was not a sillyyoung girl, but an independent woman who had always been in the habitof making her own plans. She was probably carrying out some idea of herown.
“I thought it quite likely that Hermy didn’t want to report all her move-ments to Lady Susan. But I was still worried. I had that queer feeling onegets when something is wrong. I was just leaving when a telegram wasbrought to Lady Susan. She read it with an expression of relief andhanded it to me. It ran as follows: “Changed my plans. Just off to MonteCarlo for a week.—Hermy.”
Tommy held out his hand.
“You have got the telegram with you?”
“No, I haven’t. But it was handed in at Maldon, Surrey. I noticed that atthe time, because it struck me as odd. What should Hermy be doing atMaldon. She’d no friends there that I had ever heard of.”
“You didn’t think of rushing off to Monte Carlo in the same way that youhad rushed north?”
“I thought of it, of course. But I decided against it. You see, Mr. Blunt,whilst Lady Susan seemed quite satisfied by that telegram, I wasn’t. Itstruck me as odd that she should always telegraph, not write. A line or twoin her own handwriting would have set all my fears at rest. But anyonecan sign a telegram ‘Hermy.’ The more I thought it over, the more uneasy Igot. In the end I went down to Maldon. That was yesterday afternoon. It’sa fair-sized place—good links there and all that—two hotels. I inquiredeverywhere I could think of, but there wasn’t a sign that Hermy had everbeen there. Coming back in the train I read your advertisement and Ithought I’d put it up to you. If Hermy has really gone off to Monte Carlo, Idon’t want to set the police on her track and make a scandal, but I’m notgoing to be sent off on a wild goose chase myself. I stay here in London, incase—in case there’s been foul play of any kind.”
Tommy nodded thoughtfully.
“What do you suspect exactly?”
“I don’t know. But I feel there’s something wrong.”
With a quick movement, Stavansson took a case from his pocket andlaid it open before them.
“That is Hermione,” he said. “I will leave it with you.”
The photograph represented a tall, willowy woman, no longer in herfirst youth, but with a charming frank smile and lovely eyes.
“Now, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy, “there is nothing you have omittedto tell me?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“No detail, however small?”
“I don’t think so.”
Tommy sighed.
“That makes the task harder,” he observed. “You must often have no-ticed, Mr. Stavansson, in reading of crime, how one small detail is all thegreat detective needs to set him on the track. I may say that this casepresents some unusual features. I have, I think, partially solved it already,but time will show.”
He picked up a violin which lay on the table and drew the bow once ortwice across the strings. Tuppence ground her teeth, and even the ex-plorer blenched. The performer laid the instrument down again.
“A few chords from Mosgovskensky,” he murmured. “Leave me your ad-dress, Mr. Stavansson, and I will report progress to you.”
As the visitor left the office, Tuppence grabbed the violin, and putting itin the cupboard turned the key in the lock.
“If you must be Sherlock Holmes,” she observed, “I’ll get you a nice littlesyringe and a bottle labelled cocaine, but for God’s sake leave that violinalone. If that nice explorer man hadn’t been as simple as a child, he’d haveseen through you. Are you going on with the Sherlock Holmes touch?”
“I flatter myself that I have carried it through very well so far,” saidTommy with some complacence. “The deductions were good, weren’tthey? I had to risk the taxi. After all, it’s the only sensible way of getting tothis place.”
“It’s lucky I had just read the bit about his engagement in this morning’sDaily Mirror,” remarked Tuppence.
“Yes, that looked well for the efficiency of Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives.
This is decidedly a Sherlock Holmes case. Even you cannot have failed tonotice the similarity between it and the disappearance of Lady FrancesCarfax.”
“Do you expect to find Mrs. Leigh Gordon’s body in a coffin?”
“Logically, history should repeat itself. Actually — well, what do youthink?”
“Well,” said Tuppence. “The most obvious explanation seems to be thatfor some reason or other, Hermy, as he calls her, is afraid to meet herfiancé, and that Lady Susan is backing her up. In fact, to put it bluntly,she’s come a cropper of some kind, and has got the wind up about it.”
“That occurred to me also,” said Tommy. “But I thought we’d bettermake pretty certain before suggesting that explanation to a man likeStavansson. What about a run down to Maldon, old thing? And it would dono harm to take some golf clubs with us.”
Tuppence agreeing, the International Detective Agency was left in thecharge of Albert.
Maldon, though a well-known residential place, did not cover a largearea. Tommy and Tuppence, making every possible inquiry that ingenuitycould suggest, nevertheless drew a complete blank. It was as they were re-turning to London that a brilliant idea occurred to Tuppence.
“Tommy, why did they put Maldon, Surrey, on the telegram?”
“Because Maldon is in Surrey, idiot.”
“Idiot yourself—I don’t mean that. If you get a telegram from—Hastings,say, or Torquay, they don’t put the county after it. But from Richmond,they do put Richmond, Surrey. That’s because there are two Richmonds.”
Tommy, who was driving, slowed up.
“Tuppence,” he said affectionately, “your idea is not so dusty. Let usmake inquiries at yonder post office.”
They drew up before a small building in the middle of a village street. Avery few minutes sufficed to elicit the information that there were twoMaldons. Maldon, Surrey, and Maldon, Sussex, the latter, a tiny hamlet butpossessed of a telegraph office.
“That’s it,” said Tuppence excitedly. “Stavansson knew Maldon was inSurrey, so he hardly looked at the word beginning with S after Maldon.”
“Tomorrow,” said Tommy, “we’ll have a look at Maldon, Sussex.”
Maldon, Sussex, was a very different proposition to its Surrey name-sake. It was four miles from a railway station, possessed two publichouses, two small shops, a post and telegraph office combined with asweet and picture postcard business, and about seven small cottages. Tup-pence took on the shops whilst Tommy betook himself to the Cock andSparrow. They met half an hour later.
“Well?” said Tuppence.
“Quite good beer,” said Tommy, “but no information.”
“You’d better try the King’s Head,” said Tuppence. “I’m going back to thepost office. There’s a sour old woman there, but I heard them yell to herthat dinner was ready.”
She returned to the place and began examining postcards. A fresh-facedgirl, still munching, came out of the back room.
“I’d like these, please,” said Tuppence. “And do you mind waiting whilstI just look over these comic ones?”
She sorted through a packet, talking as she did so.
“I’m ever so disappointed you couldn’t tell me my sister’s address. She’sstaying near here and I’ve lost her letter. Leigh Gordon, her name is.”
The girl shook her head.
“I don’t remember it. And we don’t get many letters through here either—so I probably should if I’d seen it on a letter. Apart from the Grange,there isn’t many big houses round about.”
“What is the Grange?” asked Tuppence. “Who does it belong to?”
“Dr. Horriston has it. It’s turned into a nursing home now. Nerve casesmostly, I believe. Ladies that come down for rest cures, and all that sort ofthing. Well, it’s quiet enough down here, heaven knows.” She giggled.
Tuppence hastily selected a few cards and paid for them.
“That’s Doctor Horriston’s car coming along now,” exclaimed the girl.
Tuppence hurried to the shop door. A small two-seater was passing. Atthe wheel was a tall dark man with a neat black beard and a powerful un-pleasant face. The car went straight on down the street. Tuppence sawTommy crossing the road towards her.
“Tommy, I believe I’ve got it. Doctor Horriston’s nursing home.”
“I heard about it at the King’s Head, and I thought there might be some-thing in it. But if she’s had a nervous breakdown or anything of that sort,her aunt and her friends would know about it surely.”
“Ye-es. I didn’t mean that. Tommy, did you see that man in the two-seater?”
“Unpleasant-looking brute, yes.”
“That was Doctor Horriston.”
Tommy whistled.
“Shifty looking beggar. What do you say about it, Tuppence? Shall we goand have a look at the Grange?”
They found the place at last, a big rambling house, surrounded by deser-ted grounds, with a swift mill stream running behind the house.
“Dismal sort of abode,” said Tommy. “It gives me the creeps, Tuppence.
You know, I’ve a feeling this is going to turn out a far more serious matterthan we thought at first.”
“Oh, don’t. If only we are in time. That woman’s in some awful danger; Ifeel it in my bones.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”
“I can’t help it. I mistrust that man. What shall we do? I think it wouldbe a good plan if I went and rang the bell alone first and asked boldly forMrs. Leigh Gordon just to see what answer I get. Because, after all, it maybe perfectly fair and aboveboard.”
Tuppence carried out her plan. The door was opened almost immedi-ately by a manservant with an impassive face.
“I want to see Mrs. Leigh Gordon, if she is well enough to see me.”
She fancied that there was a momentary flicker of the man’s eyelashes,but he answered readily enough.
“There is no one of that name here, madam.”
“Oh, surely. This is Doctor Horriston’s place, The Grange, is it not?”
“Yes, madam, but there is nobody of the name of Mrs. Leigh Gordonhere.”
Baffled, Tuppence was forced to withdraw and hold a further consulta-tion with Tommy outside the gate.
“Perhaps he was speaking the truth. After all, we don’t know.”
“He wasn’t. He was lying. I’m sure of it.”
“Wait until the doctor comes back,” said Tommy. “Then I’ll pass myselfoff as a journalist anxious to discuss his new system of rest cure with him.
That will give me a chance of getting inside and studying the geography ofthe place.”
The doctor returned about half an hour later. Tommy gave him aboutfive minutes, then he in turn marched up to the front door. But he too re-turned baffled.
“The doctor was engaged and couldn’t be disturbed. And he never seesjournalists. Tuppence, you’re right. There’s something fishy about thisplace. It’s ideally situated—miles from anywhere. Any mortal thing couldgo on here, and no one would ever know.”
“Come on,” said Tuppence, with determination.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to climb over the wall and see if I can’t get up to the housequietly without being seen.”
“Right. I’m with you.”
The garden was somewhat overgrown and afforded a multitude ofcover. Tommy and Tuppence managed to reach the back of the house un-observed.
Here there was a wide terrace with some crumbling steps leading downfrom it. In the middle some french windows opened on to the terrace, butthey dared not step out into the open, and the windows where they werecrouching were too high for them to be able to look in. It did not seem asthough their reconnaissance would be much use, when suddenly Tup-pence tightened her grasp of Tommy’s arm.
Someone was speaking in the room close to them. The window wasopen and the fragment of conversation came clearly to their ears.
“Come in, come in, and shut the door,” said a man’s voice irritably. “Alady came about an hour ago, you said, and asked for Mrs. Leigh Gordon?”
Tuppence recognised the answering voice as that of the impassivemanservant.
“Yes, sir.”
“You said she wasn’t here, of course?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And now this journalist fellow,” fumed the other.
He came suddenly to the window, throwing up the sash, and the twooutside, peering through a screen of bushes, recognised Dr. Horriston.
“It’s the woman I mind most about,” continued the doctor. “What didshe look like?”
“Young, good-looking, and very smartly dressed, sir.”
Tommy nudged Tuppence in the ribs.
“Exactly,” said the doctor between his teeth, “as I feared. Some friend ofthe Leigh Gordon woman’s. It’s getting very difficult. I shall have to takesteps—”
He left the sentence unfinished. Tommy and Tuppence heard the doorclose. There was silence.
Gingerly Tommy led the retreat. When they had reached a little clearingnot far away, but out of earshot from the house, he spoke.
“Tuppence, old thing, this is getting serious. They mean mischief. I thinkwe ought to get back to town at once and see Stavansson.”
To his surprise Tuppence shook her head.
“We must stay down here. Didn’t you hear him say he was going to takesteps—That might mean anything.”
“The worst of it is we’ve hardly got a case to go to the police on.”
“Listen, Tommy. Why not ring up Stavansson from the village? I’ll stayaround here.”
“Perhaps that is the best plan,” agreed her husband. “But I say—Tup-pence—”
“Well?”
“Take care of yourself—won’t you?”
“Of course I shall, you silly old thing. Cut along.”
It was some two hours later that Tommy returned. He found Tuppenceawaiting him near the gate.
“Well?”
“I couldn’t get on to Stavansson. Then I tried Lady Susan. She was outtoo. Then I thought of ringing up old Brady. I asked him to look up Horris-ton in the Medical Directory or whatever the thing calls itself.”
“Well, what did Dr. Brady say?”
“Oh, he knew the name at once. Horriston was once a bona fide doctor,but he came a cropper of some kind. Brady called him a most unscrupu-lous quack, and said he, personally, wouldn’t be surprised at anything.
The question is, what are we to do now?”
“We must stay here,” said Tuppence instantly. “I’ve a feeling they meansomething to happen tonight. By the way, a gardener has been clipping ivyround the house. Tommy, I saw where he put the ladder.”
“Good for you, Tuppence,” said her husband appreciatively. “Then to-night—”
“As soon as it’s dark—”
“We shall see—”
“What we shall see.”
Tommy took his turn at watching the house whilst Tuppence went to thevillage and had some food.
Then she returned and they took up the vigil together. At nine o’clockthey decided that it was dark enough to commence operations. They werenow able to circle round the house in perfect freedom. Suddenly Tup-pence clutched Tommy by the arm.
“Listen.”
The sound she had heard came again, borne faintly on the night air. Itwas the moan of a woman in pain. Tuppence pointed upward to a windowon the first floor.
“It came from that room,” she whispered.
Again that low moan rent the stillness of the night.
The two listeners decided to put their original plan into action. Tup-pence led the way to where she had seen the gardener put the ladder.
Between them they carried it to the side of the house from which they hadheard the moaning. All the blinds of the ground floor rooms were drawn,but this particular window upstairs was unshuttered.
Tommy put the ladder as noiselessly as possible against the side of thehouse.
“I’ll go up,” whispered Tuppence. “You stay below. I don’t mind climbingladders and you can steady it better than I could. And in case the doctorshould come round the corner you’d be able to deal with him and Ishouldn’t.”
Nimbly Tuppence swarmed up the ladder and raised her head cau-tiously to look in at the window. Then she ducked it swiftly, but after aminute or two brought it very slowly up again. She stayed there for aboutfive minutes. Then she descended again.
“It’s her,” she said breathlessly and ungrammatically. “But, oh, Tommy,it’s horrible. She’s lying there in bed, moaning, and turning to and fro—and just as I got there a woman dressed as a nurse came in. She bent overher and injected something in her arm and then went away again. Whatshall we do?”
“Is she conscious?”
“I think so. I’m almost sure she is. I fancy she may be strapped to thebed. I’m going up again, and if I can I’m going to get into that room.”
“I say, Tuppence—”
“If I’m in any sort of danger, I’ll yell for you. So long.”
Avoiding further argument Tuppence hurried up the ladder again.
Tommy saw her try the window, then noiselessly push up the sash. An-other second and she had disappeared inside.
And now an agonising time came for Tommy. He could hear nothing atfirst. Tuppence and Mrs. Leigh Gordon must be talking in whispers if theywere talking at all. Presently he did hear a low murmur of voices anddrew a breath of relief. But suddenly the voices stopped. Dead silence.
Tommy strained his ears. Nothing. What could they be doing?
Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder.
“Come on,” said Tuppence’s voice out of the darkness.
“Tuppence! How did you get here?”
“Through the front door. Let’s get out of this.”
“Get out of this?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But—Mrs. Leigh Gordon?”
In a tone of indescribable bitterness Tuppence replied:
“Getting thin!”
Tommy looked at her, suspecting irony.
“What do you mean?”
“What I say. Getting thin. Slinkiness. Reduction of weight. Didn’t youhear Stavansson say he hated fat women? In the two years he’s beenaway, his Hermy has put on weight. Got a panic when she knew he wascoming back and rushed off to do this new treatment of Dr. Horriston’s.
It’s injections of some sort, and he makes a deadly secret of it, and chargesthrough the nose. I dare say he is a quack—but he’s a damned successfulone! Stavansson comes home a fortnight too soon, when she’s only begin-ning the treatment. Lady Susan has been sworn to secrecy and plays up.
And we come down here and make blithering idiots of ourselves!”
Tommy drew a deep breath.
“I believe, Watson,” he said with dignity, “that there is a very good con-cert at the Queen’s Hall tomorrow. We shall be in plenty of time for it. Andyou will oblige me by not placing this case upon your records. It has abso-lutely no distinctive features.”
第七章 失踪女士迷案
第七章 失踪女士迷案
布兰特先生——国际侦探事务所，老板，西奥多•布兰特——办公桌上的蜂鸣器振起了警铃。汤米和塔彭丝都扑到各自的窥视孔前，透过这个窥视孔可以对外面办公室的情况一览无余。在那儿，阿尔伯特的主要任务就是以各种巧妙的伎俩拖住可能会成为他们顾客的来访者。
“我看看，先生，”他说，“但是恐怕布兰特先生现在正忙。他刚刚正在跟苏格兰场通话。”
“我可以等，”来访者说，“我没有带名片，但是我的名字叫布里埃尔•史蒂文森。”
这位顾客十分有男子气概，身高足有六英尺多。古铜色的脸饱经风霜，一双深蓝的眼睛和他棕色的皮肤形成鲜明的对比。
汤米迅速做出决定。他戴上帽子，拿起手套，打开门，却在门口停了下来。
“这位绅士正等着见您，布兰特先生。”阿尔伯特说。
汤米忽然皱了一下眉头，他拿出怀表。
“我十点四十五要和公爵会面，”他说，然后目光锐利地看了一眼来访者，“但是我会留给您几分钟，请跟我进来。”
后者顺从地跟他进了里面的办公室。此刻，塔彭丝一本正经地坐在那儿，手里拿着便签簿和铅笔。
“我的机要秘书，鲁宾孙小姐，”汤米说，“现在，先生，或许您能陈述一下您的来意？
显然您的事情一定很紧急，您是坐出租车前来的，刚去过北极——或者可能是南极，我不太清楚。”
来访者惊讶地盯着他。
“但是这也太神奇了，”他喊道，“我以为只有书中描写的侦探才能这样料事如神！您的办公室助理甚至都没有告诉您我的名字！”
汤米毫不在意地叹了口气。
“啧啧，这很容易，”他说，“北极圈内极夜的光线会在皮肤上留下特有的印记——光化射线有某种特殊的功能。我近来在写这方面的专题文章。但这和我们的话题风马牛不相及。究竟是什么事让您这么心神不定地来到我这儿？”
“首先，布兰特先生，我叫加布里埃尔•史蒂文森——”
“啊，当然，”汤米说，“大名鼎鼎的探险家。你最近刚从北极地区回来吧，我猜？”
“我三天前到的英格兰。一位在北极水域巡航的朋友用直升机把我带回来的。但是我本应该再过两个星期之后回来。现在我必须告诉您，布兰特先生，在两年前开始这最后一次探险之前，我有幸和莫里斯•李•戈登夫人订了婚。”
汤米打断他：
“莫里斯•李•戈登夫人结婚前——她过去是——？”
“是尊贵的赫尔迈厄尼•克兰小姐，兰彻斯特勋爵的第二个女儿。”塔彭丝不假思索地一口气说完。
汤米向她投以钦佩的目光。
“她的第一任丈夫在战争中死了。”塔彭丝补充道。
加布里埃尔•史蒂文森点点头。
“很对。正如我所说，赫尔迈厄尼和我订了婚。自然，我答应放弃这次探险，但是她不同意——上帝保佑，她正是适合做探险家妻子的那类女人。您知道吧，我着陆后的第一个念头就是去看她。我从南安普敦给她发了封电报，乘第一班火车赶到镇上。我知道她暂时和她的姑妈一起生活，她姑妈是苏珊•康拉德夫人，住在庞特街。一下火车，我直接去了那儿。但令我十分失望的是，赫尔梅 [1] 去拜访诺森伯兰郡的朋友了。苏珊夫人第一眼看到我，十分震惊。但接下来就恢复了和气，她告诉我赫尔梅几天后回来。正如我告诉你们的，我等不及两周后才能见到她。然后我就讨要她的地址，但这个老妇人支支吾吾，一会儿说赫尔梅住在这个地方，一会儿说住在另一个地方，她也说不准她会先去哪儿。还有，布兰特先生，苏珊夫人和我一直关系不好。她是个胖女人，长着双下巴。我讨厌肥胖的女人——一直如此——胖女人和肥胖的狗都是亵渎上帝的令人憎恶的动物，但不幸的是他们经常一起出现！这是我的一个怪癖，我知道——但就是这样——我就是没法和一个胖女人和睦相处。”
“流行审美和您观点一致，史蒂文森先生，”汤米讽刺地说，“每个人都有自己最厌恶的东西，已故的罗伯特勋爵最厌恶猫。”
“回到咱们的话题上来，我是说苏珊夫人并不是个十分讨人喜欢的女人——或许她是，但是我对她不感冒。我从心底里一直觉得，她不赞同我们的婚事，我肯定，如果可能的话她会怂恿赫尔梅和我分手。我告诉您的这些，只是我主观的看法，如果您愿意也可把这认为是一种偏见。好，继续讲我的故事。我是那种倔强的一条道走到黑的人。在查不出可能和赫尔梅住在一起的那些人的名字和地址前，我是不会离开庞特小镇的。查出来后，我搭乘上了开往北方的火车。”
“您是位行动派，我觉得，史蒂文森先生。”汤米微笑着说。
“但是事情的发展犹如一个晴天霹雳，布兰特先生，没有一个人知道赫尔梅的一点踪迹。这三位朋友，只有一位曾经期待她来——苏珊夫人一定弄错了其他两家——但最后她却发电报说自己不能成行了。我着急地返回伦敦，当然，径直前往苏珊夫人家。我敢说，她看起来心慌意乱。她承认她也不知道赫尔梅能去哪儿。同时，她还强烈反对报警之类的主意。她指出赫尔梅不是那种愚蠢的年轻女孩，而是一个独立的女人，总是习惯于自己拿主意。这次可能她又在实施自己的什么计划。
“我想极有可能赫尔梅不想把自己的所有行踪都报告给苏珊女士。但是我仍然担忧。我有种奇怪的感觉，总觉得什么地方不对劲儿。我正要离开，一封电报送到苏珊夫人手中。
她读完电报，如释重负，把电报递给我。上面写着：‘计划有变，去蒙特卡罗一周——赫尔梅。’”
汤米伸出手。
“你带电报来了？”
“没，没有。但电报是从萨里的马尔登发出的。当时发报的地点就引起我的警觉，因为这让我觉得有些奇怪。赫尔梅去蒙特卡罗干什么，我从没听说她在那儿有什么朋友。”
“你没想过也赶去蒙特卡罗，像你赶去北方一样？”
“当然想过。但是我决定不这么做。您看，布兰特先生，苏珊女士似乎对这封电报十分满意。我却不然。我觉得奇怪，她总是发电报，而不写信。一两行她的手迹会打消我的担忧。但是任何人都可以在电报上签上‘赫尔梅’的名字。我越琢磨越心神不定。最后我还是去了马尔登，就在昨天下午。那地方并不大——交通便利——只有两家旅馆。我找遍了每一个我能想到的地方，但是没有一丝迹象表明赫尔梅曾到过那儿。在回来的火车上，我看到了您的广告，所以想把这件事委托给您。如果赫尔梅真的去了蒙特卡罗，我不想让警察插手，从而制造出什么丑闻。我不希望自己白忙活一场。我就待在这儿，待在伦敦，以防——以防有什么不测。”
汤米若有所思地点点头。
“那么，你实际上在怀疑什么？”
“我不知道，但是觉得有什么不对劲。”
史蒂文森动作敏捷地从口袋中拿出一个钱包，打开扔在他们面前。
“这是赫尔迈厄尼，”他说，“我会把照片留下。”
照片上是一个高挑苗条的女人，虽然已经不是特别年轻，但是有着迷人真诚的笑容和一双可爱的眼睛。
“现在，史蒂文森先生，”汤米说，“您没漏掉什么吧？”
“没有。”
“没遗漏什么细节，哪怕是细枝末节？”
“我想没有。”
汤米叹了口气。
“那这任务就更艰巨了，”他说，“史蒂文森先生，您在读犯罪案例时一定经常注意到，细节对一个伟大的侦探探案有多么重要的意义。可以说这个案子案情不一般。我想我心中已有些数，但是有待时间来证明。”
他拿起桌上的小提琴，随便在弦上横竖拉了一两下。塔彭丝痛苦地咬了咬牙，就连这位探险家也不由得皱了一下眉头。演奏家终于放下了乐器。
“莫斯格维肯斯基的几段和弦，”他嘟囔道，“把您的地址留给我，史蒂文森先生，我会及时向您报告案情的进展。”
来访者刚一离开办公室，塔彭丝便一把抓起小提琴，放在橱柜里，又用一把钥匙把它锁了起来。
“如果你一定要模仿福尔摩斯，”她不高兴地说，“我会给你搞来一支精致的注射器和一瓶可卡因，但是看在上帝的分儿上，拜托把那小提琴放一边吧。如果那位和蔼的探险家不是像孩子一样头脑简单的话，他早就看穿你了。你还要继续模仿福尔摩斯吗？”
“我得庆祝一下，到目前为止我模仿得还不赖。”汤米有些沾沾自喜地说，“我的推理还是十分严谨的，对吧？我得去打个车，毕竟这是到达这个地方的唯一可靠的办法。”
“我有幸刚刚读了今天上午的《每日镜报》，上面有关于他订婚的一点消息。”塔彭丝说。
“好，这似乎更能提高布兰特事务所卓越的侦探们的办案效率。这个案子无疑和福尔摩斯办过的一些案子极为相似。即便是你也不难看出，它和弗朗西斯•卡尔法克斯夫女士失踪案 [2] 的相似之处。”
“你期望在棺材里发现李•戈登的尸体吗？”
“理论上来讲，历史会重演，而实际上——嗯，还是谈谈你怎么想的吧？”
“那好，”塔彭丝说，“对这件事最清楚的解释似乎应该是——出于什么原因，赫尔梅——他是这样叫她的——害怕与她的未婚夫见面，而苏珊夫人也支持她。实际上，说白了，她栽了什么跟头，感到很惊慌、害怕。”
“我也是这么想的，”汤米说，“但是我想在对史蒂文森那号人做出这样的解释之前，我们最好还是确认一下。去趟马尔登怎么样，老伙计？参加一下高尔夫俱乐部对我们没害处。”
塔彭丝欣然赞成。于是整个国际侦探事务所就交给了阿尔伯特一人掌管。
马尔登，一个著名的居住区，占地面积并不大。汤米和塔彭丝绞尽脑汁，做了能想到的每一项调查，却毫无头绪。但在他们回伦敦的路上，塔彭丝却想到了一个绝妙的主意。
“汤米，为什么他们要在马尔登镇后面注上萨里郡，在电报上？”
“因为马尔登镇就在萨里郡啊，傻瓜。”
“你才是傻瓜——我不是那个意思，如果你收到一封电报来自——黑斯廷斯，比如，或者托基，他们是不会把郡名注在后面的。但是来自里士满，他们就会注明萨里郡的里士满镇。因为有两个里士满。”
汤米放慢了车速。
“塔彭丝，”他柔声说，“你的主意不赖。我们去那边的邮局调查一下。”
他们把车停在一条乡村街道中段的一所小房子前。两人仅花了几分钟就探出了有价值的信息，有两个马尔登镇：一个在萨里郡，一个在苏塞克斯郡。后者是一个小村庄，但是却有一个邮电所。
“就是它，”塔彭丝兴奋地说，“史蒂文森只知道马尔登镇在萨里郡，所以他没有区分马尔登后面注的‘S’是苏塞克斯还是萨里的首字母。”
“明天，”汤米说，“我们得去趟马尔登—苏塞克斯。”
苏塞克斯郡的马尔登镇，是个和萨里郡的同名小镇完全不同的地方。距离火车站四英里处，有两个酒吧，两家小商店，一个小邮电局，这家邮电局还兼卖糖果和明信片，还有大约七所小房子。塔彭丝负责去商店打探消息，而汤米则去了“公鸡和麻雀”酒吧。半个小时后二人回来碰面。
“怎么样？”塔彭丝说。
“啤酒好极了，”汤米说，“但没有任何信息。”
“你最好再到‘王冠’去看看，”塔彭丝说，“我还要再回一趟邮电局。那儿有个坏脾气的老太太，我刚听到有人粗声大气地喊她吃饭。”
她回到那个地方，开始假装看橱窗里的明信片。一个面带稚气的女孩，嘴里还在嚼着东西，从后面的房间走出来。
“我喜欢这张，”塔彭丝说，“您不介意稍等一下，让我看完这些漫画样式吧？”
她在一包明信片中边翻捡边说：
“要是您能告诉我，我妹妹的地址，我就不会这么失望了。她就住在这附近，我把她的信弄丢了。她的名字是李•戈登。”
这个女孩摇摇头。
“我不记得这名字，何况我们这儿不会收到太多的信件——所以如果我在信封上看到了应该就记得。除了农庄，这儿周围没有什么大房子。”
“什么农庄？”塔彭丝说，“是谁的？”
“哈里斯顿大夫的。现在是一家私人疗养院，我猜，主要服务于城里来休养的女士之类的人。那儿十分安静，天知道是怎么回事。”她咯咯笑着说。
塔彭丝胡乱挑选了几张明信片并付了钱。
“哈里斯顿大夫的车过来了。”这个女孩大声说。
塔彭丝赶紧跑到门边。一辆小型双座汽车正从门边经过。车上坐着一位高个儿男子，皮肤黝黑，黑色胡子修剪整齐，脸色威严忧郁。汽车沿着街道向前疾驶。塔彭丝看到汤米穿过马路朝她走来。
“汤米，我相信我找到赫尔梅下落了，哈里斯顿大夫的私人疗养院。”
“我在王冠酒吧也打听到了关于这家疗养院的一些事情，我想那儿或许有什么线索。但是，如果她患了精神崩溃之类的病，那她姑姑和朋友一定会知道。”
“呃……是的，但我不是这个意思。汤米，你看到那个双座汽车上的男人了吗？”
“一个脸色忧郁的家伙，看到了。”
“那是哈里斯顿大夫。”
汤米吹了个口哨。
“看起来贼眉鼠眼。你有什么打算，塔彭丝？我们要不要去探访一下这个大农庄？”
他们终于找到了那个地方，这是一所蔓草丛生的大房子，周围是荒废的土地，屋后一条湍急的溪水驱动着水车。
“一所阴沉沉的房子，”汤米说，“令人毛骨悚然，塔彭丝，你知道吗，我觉得这里一定会发生比我们想象中更严重的事情。”
“哦，但愿不会。我们必须及时行动。那个女人处于可怕的危险中，我打心底里这样认为。”
“别老胡思乱想。”
“我没法不胡思乱想。我对那个人十分怀疑。那我们该怎么办？我认为这会是个好计划，如果我单独去按门铃，直截了当说找李•戈登小姐，看看他们怎么回答。因为，不管怎样，这样做直截了当，光明正大。”
塔彭丝义无反顾地实施了她的计划。她按响门铃，一个一脸冷漠的仆人几乎立刻就打开了门。
“我想见李•戈登小姐，如果她身体允许的话。”
她敏锐地发现眼前这个人的睫毛忽闪了一下，但是他却很轻松地回答：
“这儿没有这个人，女士。”
“哦，真的吗？这里不是哈里斯顿大夫的住宅——大农庄，不是吗？”
“是的，女士。但是这里没有一个叫李•戈登小姐的人。”
塔彭丝有些困惑，不得不退回来，和等在大门外的汤米进一步讨论这事。
“可能他说的是真的。毕竟，我们只是猜测。”
“不，他在撒谎，我肯定。”
“等大夫回来，”汤米说，“然后我冒充一位记者，借口渴望和他讨论他的新私人疗养计划。从而找机会进去里面一探究竟。”
大夫半个小时后回来了。汤米等他进去后五分钟，转身大步向那所房子前门走去。但是不一会儿他就碰了一鼻子灰，有些困惑地回来了。
“大夫正忙，不能打扰。还说他从来不见记者。塔彭丝，你是对的，这个地方十分可疑。这儿地理位置多理想——远离尘嚣。任何罪恶的勾当都可能在这儿发生，而没有人会发现。”
“来吧，我们行动。”塔彭丝果断地说。
“你要干什么？”
“我要翻过那面墙，看看能不能悄悄地不被觉察地爬进那所房子里。”
“好，我和你一起去。”
花园里藤蔓蒙络摇缀，覆盖着各种各样的植物。汤米和塔彭丝毫不费力地悄悄潜到了房子的背面。
屋后有一个宽阔的平台，岩块剥落的台阶蜿蜒而下。房子中部，几扇法式长窗敞开着，正对着平台，但是他们不敢贸然从窗户爬进去。何况那些窗户太高，从他俩蹲伏的地方无法看到里面。他们的侦察计划似乎又泡汤了，这时塔彭丝突然一把抓住汤米的胳膊。
有人在邻近的房间里讲话。那个房间的窗户敞开着，有些谈话的片段清楚地传到他们的耳朵里。
“进来，进来，关上门，”是一个男人急躁的声音，“有位女士一小时前来过，你说，找李•戈登小姐？”
塔彭丝听出答话的正是那个冷漠的仆人。
“是的，先生。”
“你说她不在这儿，对吧？”
“当然，先生。”
“现在，又来了个所谓记者的家伙。”另一个人怒气冲冲地说。
他突然走到窗前，猛地拉下窗格。就在这一瞬间，外面的两个人，透过藏身的灌木丛，认出了哈里斯顿大夫。
“那个女人，”大夫继续说，“她长什么样？”
“年轻，漂亮，穿戴时髦。先生。”
汤米用胳膊肘推了推塔彭丝胸脯。
“对了，”大夫从牙缝中挤出几句话，“这正我所担心的，李•戈登小姐的朋友。情况不妙。我不得不采取——”
他没有说完。汤米和塔彭丝听到门砰的一声关上了，然后一切归于寂静。
汤米小心翼翼地带塔彭丝退回来。等他们摸索到不远处的一小片空地上，房子里的人听不到他们的说话声，他才说道：
“塔彭丝，老伙计，事情变复杂了。看样子，他们要下手了。我想我们应该马上回到城里去见史蒂文森。”
但令他惊讶的是塔彭丝摇了摇头。
“我们一定要待在这儿。你没听到他说要采取行动吗——那或许意味着可能会发生任何事情。”
“最糟糕的是，我们还没有任何确凿的证据可向警局报告。”
“听着，汤米，为什么不去镇里给史蒂文森打个电话呢？我待在这儿。”
“这可能是最好的办法，”她丈夫赞同道，“但是我说——塔彭丝——”
“什么？”
“你自己小心——好吗？”
“我当然会的，傻瓜，快去吧。”
大约两个小时后汤米回来了。他发现塔彭丝在大门旁边等他。
“怎么样？”
“我联系不上史蒂文森。然后我尝试打给苏珊女士，她也出去了。接着我想到应该给老朋友布雷迪大夫打电话，请他帮忙在《医药行业名录》之类的资料里查查哈里斯顿的底细。”
“那布雷迪大夫怎么说？”
“哦，他马上就想起了这个名字，哈里斯顿从前是位名副其实的医生，但是后来他栽了什么跟头。布兰迪称他为最寡廉鲜耻的江湖医生，还说无论他发生什么事都不足为奇。问题是，我们现在该怎么办？”
“我们一定要待在这儿，”塔彭丝马上说，“我有种感觉，今晚有什么事要发生，另外，一个园丁修剪了这所房子周围的常青藤，汤米，我看到他把梯子放在了哪儿。”
“干得好，塔彭丝，”她的丈夫夸奖说，“那么，今天晚上——”
“天一黑——”
“我们看——”
“看会发生什么。”
汤米接下来继续监视这所房子，塔彭丝到村子里去找些吃的。
她回来后，他们一起继续观察那所房子里的动静。
九点钟，他们觉得天足够黑了，决定开始行动。现在，他们能完全自由地绕着这所房子四处搜寻。突然，塔彭丝紧紧抓住汤米的胳膊。
“听！”
他们刚才听到的声音再次响起，在夜空中隐隐约约地飘来。这是一个女人痛苦的呻吟。塔彭丝指指二楼的一扇窗户。
“来自那扇窗户。”她低声说。
那个低沉的呻吟声再次打破了暗夜的寂静。
两个监听者决定实施他们的原定计划。塔彭丝带汤米起身来到园丁放梯子的地方。他们一起把梯子搬到房子一边——听到呻吟声的那边。一楼所有房间的百叶窗都关着，只有楼上这个房间的窗户大敞。
汤米尽量不弄出声响，把梯子靠在外墙上。
“我上去，”塔彭丝小声说，“你待在下面。我不怕爬梯子，你能把梯子扶得更稳些。万一那大夫从墙角转过来，你也能对付他，我却不能。”
塔彭丝敏捷地爬上梯子，谨慎地抬起头往窗户里看。然后她猛地低下头，过了一两分钟又慢慢抬起来。她在那儿待了大约五分钟，然后小心地爬下来。
“是她，”她上气不接下气地说，“但是，哦，汤米，太可怕了。她躺在那儿，呻吟着，翻来覆去——我刚上去，一个护士模样的女人进来。她弯腰在她胳膊上注射了什么，然后又走了。我们接下来怎么办？”
“她神志清醒吗？”
“我想是清醒的。我几乎可以肯定她清醒着。可能她被绑在了床上。我再上去，如果可能的话，我就爬到那个房间里去。”
“我说，塔彭丝——”
“如果我有危险，会大声喊你。再见。”
为了不再争论，塔彭丝迅速地再次爬上梯子。汤米看着她试图打开窗户，然后无声无息地推开百叶窗。然后她就消失了。
现在，轮到汤米紧张不安了。一开始他什么也听不到。塔彭丝一定在和李•戈登小姐小声谈话，如果她们交谈了的话。然后，他听到了一阵轻微的絮叨声，于是松了口气。但是，突然，声音消失了，周围的一切又陷入了死寂。
汤米凝神谛听，但什么都听不到。她们在干什么？
突然，一只手搭在他肩膀上。
“嘿。”塔彭丝的声音从黑暗中传来。
“塔彭丝！你怎么在这儿？”
“从前门，我们出去吧。”
“出去？”
“对，正是。”
“但是——李•戈登小姐？”
塔彭丝以十分心酸的语气回答：
“日见消瘦！”
汤米狐疑地看着她。
“什么意思？”
“我说，日见消瘦。瘦身。减肥。你没听史蒂文森说他讨厌胖女人吗？他走了两年，他的赫尔梅变胖了，听到他要回来，慌了神，急忙来哈里斯顿的这所疗养院，注射了一些减肥针剂。他对此秘而不宣，而且漫天要价。我敢说，他绝对是个庸医——但是他却干得真他妈的成功！史蒂文森提前两周回来，而她才刚刚开始这种治疗。苏珊女士发誓保守秘密，并设法应付探险家。而我们却来到这儿，像个傻瓜一样玩得不亦乐乎。”
汤米深吸一口气。
“好吧，我亲爱的华生，”他郑重其事地说，“明天上午女王音乐厅有一场盛大的舞会，我们有充足的时间赶到那儿。请赏脸别把我写进你的破案记录中，这个案子无疑没有什么出奇之处。”
[1]赫尔梅(Hermy）是赫尔迈厄尼（Hermione）的昵称。
[2]《福尔摩斯探案全集》中的一个故事。单身的卡尔法克斯小姐在洛桑失踪，福尔摩斯接到求助。
最后，他和华生查到歹徒将卡尔法克斯小姐放在棺木内，用另一具尸体做掩饰，以便烧死她。
Eight BLINDMAN’S BUFF
Eight BLINDMAN’S BUFF

“Right,” said Tommy, and replaced the receiver on its hook.
Then he turned to Tuppence.
“That was the Chief. Seems to have got the wind up about us. It appearsthat the parties we’re after have got wise to the fact that I’m not the genu-ine Mr. Theodore Blunt. We’re to expect excitements at any minute. TheChief begs you as a favour to go home and stay at home, and not mix your-self up in it any more. Apparently the hornet’s nest we’ve stirred up is big-ger than anyone imagined.”
“All that about my going home is nonsense,” said Tuppence decidedly.
“Who is going to look after you if I go home? Besides, I like excitement.
Business hasn’t been very brisk just lately.”
“Well, one can’t have murders and robberies every day,” said Tommy.
“Be reasonable. Now, my idea is this. When business is slack, we ought todo a certain amount of home exercises every day.”
“Lie on our backs and wave our feet in the air? That sort of thing?”
“Don’t be so literal in your interpretation. When I say exercises, I meanexercises in the detective art. Reproductions of the great masters. For in-stance—”
From the drawer beside him Tommy took out a formidable dark greeneyeshade, covering both eyes. This he adjusted with some care. Then hedrew a watch from his pocket.
“I broke the glass this morning,” he remarked. “That paved the way forits being the crystalless watch which my sensitive fingers touch so lightly.”
“Be careful,” said Tuppence. “You nearly had the short hand off then.”
“Give me your hand,” said Tommy. He held it, one finger feeling for thepulse. “Ah! the keyboard of silence. This woman has not got heart dis-ease.”
“I suppose,” said Tuppence, “that you are Thornley Colton?”
“Just so,” said Tommy. “The blind Problemist. And you’re thingummy-bob, the black-haired, apple-cheeked secretary—”
“The bundle of baby clothes picked up on the banks of the river,” fin-ished Tuppence.
“And Albert is the Fee, alias Shrimp.”
“We must teach him to say, ‘Gee,’ ” said Tuppence. “And his voice isn’tshrill. It’s dreadfully hoarse.”
“Against the wall by the door,” said Tommy, “you perceive the slim hol-low cane which held in my sensitive hand tells me so much.”
He rose and cannoned into a chair.
“Damn!” said Tommy. “I forgot that chair was there.”
“It must be beastly to be blind,” said Tuppence with feeling.
“Rather,” agreed Tommy heartily. “I’m sorrier for all those poor devilswho lost their eyesight in the war than for anyone else. But they say thatwhen you live in the dark you really do develop special senses. That’swhat I want to try and see if one couldn’t do. It would be jolly handy totrain oneself to be some good in the dark. Now, Tuppence, be a goodSydney Thames. How many steps to that cane?”
Tuppence made a desperate guess.
“Three straight, five left,” she hazarded.
Tommy paced it uncertainly, Tuppence interrupting with a cry of warn-ing as she realised that the fourth step left would take him slap against thewall.
“There’s a lot in this,” said Tuppence. “You’ve no idea how difficult it isto judge how many steps are needed.”
“It’s jolly interesting,” said Tommy. “Call Albert in. I’m going to shakehands with you both, and see if I know which is which.”
“All right,” said Tuppence, “but Albert must wash his hands first.
They’re sure to be sticky from those beastly acid drops he’s always eating.”
Albert, introduced to the game, was full of interest.
Tommy, the handshakes completed, smiled complacently.
“The keyboard of silence cannot lie,” he murmured. “The first was Al-bert, the second, you, Tuppence.”
“Wrong!” shrieked Tuppence. “Keyboard of silence indeed! You went bymy dress ring. And I put that on Albert’s finger.”
Various other experiments were carried out, with indifferent success.
“But it’s coming,” declared Tommy. “One can’t expect to be infalliblestraight away. I tell you what. It’s just lunch time. You and I will go to theBlitz, Tuppence. Blind man and his keeper. Some jolly useful tips to bepicked up there.”
“I say, Tommy, we shall get into trouble.”
“No, we shan’t. I shall behave quite like the little gentleman. But I betyou that by the end of luncheon I shall be startling you.”
All protests being thus overborne, a quarter of an hour later sawTommy and Tuppence comfortably ensconced at a corner table in the GoldRoom of the Blitz.
Tommy ran his fingers lightly over the Menu.
“Pilaff de homar and grilled chicken for me,” he murmured.
Tuppence also made her selection, and the waiter moved away.
“So far, so good,” said Tommy. “Now for a more ambitious venture.
What beautiful legs that girl in the short skirt has—the one who has justcome in.”
“How was that done, Thorn?”
“Beautiful legs impart a particular vibration to the floor, which is re-ceived by my hollow cane. Or, to be honest, in a big restaurant there isnearly always a girl with beautiful legs standing in the doorway lookingfor her friends, and with short skirts going about, she’d be sure to take ad-vantage of them.”
The meal proceeded.
“The man two tables from us is a very wealthy profiteer, I fancy,” saidTommy carelessly. “Jew, isn’t he?”
“Pretty good,” said Tuppence appreciatively. “I don’t follow that one.”
“I shan’t tell you how it’s done every time. It spoils my show. The headwaiter is serving champagne three tables off to the right. A stout womanin black is about to pass our table.”
“Tommy, how can you—”
“Aha! You’re beginning to see what I can do. That’s a nice girl in brownjust getting up at the table behind you.”
“Snoo!” said Tuppence. “It’s a young man in grey.”
“Oh!” said Tommy, momentarily disconcerted.
And at that moment two men who had been sitting at a table not faraway, and who had been watching the young pair with keen interest, gotup and came across to the corner table.
“Excuse me,” said the elder of the two, a tall, well-dressed man with aneyeglass, and a small grey moustache. “But you have been pointed out tome as Mr. Theodore Blunt. May I ask if that is so?”
Tommy hesitated a minute, feeling somewhat at a disadvantage. Thenhe bowed his head.
“That is so. I am Mr. Blunt!”
“What an unexpected piece of good fortune! Mr. Blunt, I was going tocall at your offices after lunch. I am in trouble—very grave trouble. But—excuse me—you have had some accident to your eyes?”
“My dear sir,” said Tommy in a melancholy voice, “I’m blind — com-pletely blind.”
“What?”
“You are astonished. But surely you have heard of blind detectives?”
“In fiction. Never in real life. And I have certainly never heard that youwere blind.”
“Many people are not aware of the fact,” murmured Tommy. “I amwearing an eyeshade today to save my eyeballs from glare. But without it,quite a host of people have never suspected my infirmity—if you call itthat. You see, my eyes cannot mislead me. But, enough of all this. Shall wego at once to my office, or will you give me the facts of the case here? Thelatter would be best, I think.”
A waiter brought up two extra chairs, and the two men sat down. Thesecond man who had not yet spoken, was shorter, sturdy in build, andvery dark.
“It is a matter of great delicacy,” said the older man dropping his voiceconfidentially. He looked uncertainly at Tuppence. Mr. Blunt seemed tofeel the glance.
“Let me introduce my confidential secretary,” he said. “Miss Ganges.
Found on the banks of the Indian river—a mere bundle of baby clothes.
Very sad history. Miss Ganges is my eyes. She accompanies me every-where.”
The stranger acknowledged the introduction with a bow.
“Then I can speak out. Mr. Blunt, my daughter, a girl of sixteen, hasbeen abducted under somewhat peculiar circumstances. I discovered thishalf an hour ago. The circumstances of the case were such that I dared notcall in the police. Instead, I rang up your office. They told me you were outto lunch, but would be back by half past two. I came in here with myfriend, Captain Harker—”
The short man jerked his head and muttered something.
“By the greatest good fortune you happened to be lunching here also.
We must lose no time. You must return with me to my house immedi-ately.”
Tommy demurred cautiously.
“I can be with you in half an hour. I must return to my office first.”
Captain Harker, turning to glance at Tuppence, may have been sur-prised to see a half smile lurking for a moment at the corners of hermouth.
“No, no, that will not do. You must return with me.” The grey-hairedman took a card from his pocket and handed it across the table. “That ismy name.”
Tommy fingered it.
“My fingers are hardly sensitive enough for that,” he said with a smile,and handed it to Tuppence, who read out in a low voice: “The Duke ofBlairgowrie.”
She looked with great interest at their client. The Duke of Blairgowriewas well-known to be a most haughty and inaccessible nobleman who hadmarried as a wife, the daughter of a Chicago pork butcher, many yearsyounger than himself, and of a lively temperament that augured ill fortheir future together. There had been rumours of disaccord lately.
“You will come at once, Mr. Blunt?” said the Duke, with a tinge ofacerbity in his manner.
Tommy yielded to the inevitable.
“Miss Ganges and I will come with you,” he said quietly. “You will ex-cuse my just stopping to drink a large cup of black coffee? They will serveit immediately. I am subject to very distressing headaches, the result of myeye trouble, and the coffee steadies my nerves.”
He called a waiter and gave the order. Then he spoke to Tuppence.
“Miss Ganges—I am lunching here tomorrow with the French Prefect ofPolice. Just note down the luncheon, and give it to the head waiter with in-structions to reserve me my usual table. I am assisting the French police inan important case. The fee”—he paused—“is considerable. Are you ready,Miss Ganges.”
“Quite ready,” said Tuppence, her stylo poised.
“We will start with that special salad of shrimps that they have here.
Then to follow—let me see, to follow—Yes, Omelette Blitz, and perhaps acouple of Tournedos à l’Etranger.”
He paused and murmured apologetically:
“You will forgive me, I hope. Ah! yes, Souffle en surprise. That will con-clude the repast. A most interesting man, the French Prefect. You knowhim, perhaps?”
The other replied in the negative, as Tuppence rose and went to speak tothe head waiter. Presently she returned, just as the coffee was brought.
Tommy drank a large cup of it, sipping it slowly, then rose.
“My cane, Miss Ganges? Thank you. Directions, please?”
It was a moment of agony for Tuppence.
“One right, eighteen straight. About the fifth step, there is a waiterserving the table on your left.”
Swinging his cane jauntily, Tommy set out. Tuppence kept close besidehim, and endeavoured unobtrusively to steer him. All went well until theywere just passing out through the doorway. A man entered rather hur-riedly, and before Tuppence could warn the blind Mr. Blunt, he hadbarged right into the newcomer. Explanations and apologies ensued.
At the door of the Blitz, a smart landaulette was waiting. The Duke him-self aided Mr. Blunt to get in.
“Your car here, Harker?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yes. Just round the corner.”
“Take Miss Ganges in it, will you.”
Before another word could be said, he had jumped in beside Tommy,and the car rolled smoothly away.
“A very delicate matter,” murmured the Duke. “I can soon acquaint youwith all the details.”
Tommy raised his hand to his head.
“I can remove my eyeshade now,” he observed pleasantly. “It was onlythe glare of artificial light in the restaurant necessitated its use.”
But his arm was jerked down sharply. At the same time he felt some-thing hard and round being poked between his ribs.
“No, my dear Mr. Blunt,” said the Duke’s voice—but a voice that seemedsuddenly different. “You will not remove that eyeshade. You will sit per-fectly still and not move in any way. You understand? I don’t want thispistol of mine to go off. You see, I happen not to be the Duke of Blair-gowrie at all. I borrowed his name for the occasion, knowing that youwould not refuse to accompany such a celebrated client. I am somethingmuch more prosaic—a ham merchant who has lost his wife.”
He felt the start the other gave.
“That tells you something,” he laughed. “My dear young man, you havebeen incredibly foolish. I’m afraid—I’m very much afraid that your activit-ies will be curtailed in future.”
He spoke the last words with a sinister relish.
Tommy sat motionless. He did not reply to the other’s taunts.
Presently the car slackened its pace and drew up.
“Just a minute,” said the pseudo Duke. He twisted a handkerchief deftlyinto Tommy’s mouth, and drew up his scarf over it.
“In case you should be foolish enough to think of calling for help,” he ex-plained suavely.
The door of the car opened and the chauffeur stood ready. He and hismaster took Tommy between them and propelled him rapidly up somesteps and in at the door of a house.
The door closed behind them. There was a rich oriental smell in the air.
Tommy’s feet sank deep into velvet pile. He was propelled in the samefashion up a flight of stairs and into a room which he judged to be at theback of the house. Here the two men bound his hands together. The chauf-feur went out again, and the other removed the gag.
“You may speak freely now,” he announced pleasantly. “What have youto say for yourself, young man?”
Tommy cleared his throat and eased the aching corners of his mouth.
“I hope you haven’t lost my hollow cane,” he said mildly. “It cost me alot to have that made.”
“You have nerve,” said the other, after a minute’s pause. “Or else youare just a fool. Don’t you understand that I have got you—got you in thehollow of my hand? That you’re absolutely in my power? That no one whoknows you is ever likely to see you again.”
“Can’t you cut out the melodrama?” asked Tommy plaintively. “Have Igot to say, ‘You villain, I’ll foil you yet?’ That sort of thing is so very muchout of date.”
“What about the girl?” said the other, watching him. “Doesn’t that moveyou?”
“Putting two and two together during my enforced silence just now,”
said Tommy. “I have come to the inevitable conclusion that that chatty ladHarker is another of the doers of desperate deeds, and that therefore myunfortunate secretary will shortly join this little tea party.”
“Right as to one point, but wrong on the other. Mrs. Beresford—you see,I know all about you—Mrs. Beresford will not be brought here. That is alittle precaution I took. It occurred to me that just probably your friends inhigh places might be keeping you shadowed. In that case, by dividing thepursuit, you could not both be trailed. I should still keep one in my hands.
I am waiting now—”
He broke off as the door opened. The chauffeur spoke.
“We’ve not been followed, sir. It’s all clear.”
“Good. You can go, Gregory.”
The door closed again.
“So far, so good,” said the “Duke.” “And now what are we to do with you,Mr. Beresford Blunt?”
“I wish you’d take this confounded eyeshade off me,” said Tommy.
“I think not. With it on, you are truly blind—without it you would see aswell as I do—and that would not suit my little plan. For I have a plan. Youare fond of sensational fiction, Mr. Blunt. This little game that you andyour wife were playing today proves that. Now I, too, have arranged alittle game — something rather ingenious, as I am sure you will admitwhen I explain it to you.
“You see, this floor on which you are standing is made of metal, andhere and there on its surface are little projections. I touch a switch—so.” Asharp click sounded. “Now the electric current is switched on. To tread onone of those little knobs now means—death! You understand? If you couldsee .?.?. but you cannot see. You are in the dark. That is the game—Blind-man’s Buff with death. If you can reach the door in safety—freedom! But Ithink that long before you reach it you will have trodden on one of thedanger spots. And that will be very amusing—for me!”
He came forward and unbound Tommy’s hands. Then he handed himhis cane with a little ironical bow.
“The blind Problemist. Let us see if he will solve this problem. I shallstand here with my pistol ready. If you raise your hands to your head toremove that eyeshade, I shoot. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly clear,” said Tommy. He was rather pale, but determined. “Ihaven’t a dog’s chance, I suppose?”
“Oh! that—” the other shrugged his shoulders.
“Damned ingenious devil, aren’t you?” said Tommy. “But you’ve forgot-ten one thing. May I light a cigarette by the way? My poor little heart’s go-ing pit-a-pat.”
“You may light a cigarette—but no tricks. I am watching you, remember,with the pistol ready.”
“I’m not a performing dog,” said Tommy. “I don’t do tricks.” He extrac-ted a cigarette from his case, then felt for a match box. “It’s all right. I’mnot feeling for a revolver. But you know well enough that I’m not armed.
All the same, as I said before, you’ve forgotten one thing.”
“What is that?”
Tommy took a match from the box, and held it ready to strike.
“I’m blind and you can see. That’s admitted. The advantage is with you.
But supposing we were both in the dark—eh? Where’s your advantagethen?”
He struck the match.
“Thinking of shooting at the switch of the lights? Plunging the room intodarkness? It can’t be done.”
“Just so,” said Tommy. “I can’t give you darkness. But extremes meet,you know. What about light?”
As he spoke, he touched the match to something he held in his hand,and threw it down upon the table.
A blinding glare filled the room.
Just for a minute, blinded by the intense white light, the “Duke” blinkedand fell back, his pistol hand lowered.
He opened his eyes again to feel something sharp pricking his breast.
“drop that pistol,” ordered Tommy. “drop it quick. I agree with you thata hollow cane is a pretty rotten affair. So I didn’t get one. A good swordstick is a very useful weapon, though. Don’t you think so? Almost as usefulas magnesium wire. drop that pistol.”
Obedient to the necessity of that sharp point, the man dropped it. Then,with a laugh, he sprang back.
“But I still have the advantage,” he mocked. “For I can see, and you can-not.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Tommy. “I can see perfectly. The eye-shade’s a fake. I was going to put one over on Tuppence. Make one or twobloomers to begin with, and then put in some perfectly marvellous stufftowards the end of lunch. Why, bless you, I could have walked to the doorand avoided all the knobs with perfect ease. But I didn’t trust you to play asporting game. You’d never have let me get out of this alive. Careful now—”
For, with his face distorted with rage, the “Duke” sprang forward, for-getting in his fury to look where he put his feet.
There was a sudden blue crackle of flame, and he swayed for a minute,then fell like a log. A faint odour of singed flesh filled the room, minglingwith a stronger smell of ozone.”
“Whew,” said Tommy.
He wiped his face.
Then, moving gingerly, and with every precaution, he reached the wall,and touched the switch he had seen the other manipulate.
He crossed the room to the door, opened it carefully, and looked out.
There was no one about. He went down the stairs and out through thefront door.
Safe in the street, he looked up at the house with a shudder, noting thenumber. Then he hurried to the nearest telephone box.
There was a moment of agonising anxiety, and then a well-known voicespoke.
“Tuppence, thank goodness!”
“Yes, I’m all right. I got all your points. The Fee, Shrimp, Come to theBlitz and follow the two strangers. Albert got there in time, and when wewent off in separate cars, followed me in a taxi, saw where they took me,and rang up the police.”
“Albert’s a good lad,” said Tommy. “Chivalrous. I was pretty sure he’dchoose to follow you. But I’ve been worried, all the same. I’ve got lots totell you. I’m coming straight back now. And the first thing I shall do whenI get back is to write a thumping big cheque for St. Dunstan’s. Lord, it mustbe awful not to be able to see.”
第八章 盲人魔法
第八章 盲人魔法
“好的。”汤米说，把听筒放回机座上。
然后他转过身对着塔彭丝。
“是头儿。他似乎对我们很担心。看起来我们追踪的那伙人已经知道我不是真正的西奥多•布兰特。我们时刻寻求刺激，头儿请你帮个忙回家待着去，别再掺和这儿的事了。显然，我们这次带来的一大堆麻烦比想象的要大。”
“让我回家简直是屁话，”塔彭丝断然说，“我回家谁来照顾你？还有，我喜欢刺激。再说了，近来的业务一直都没什么意思。”
“嗯，不可能每天都有凶杀或抢劫，”汤米说，“理智点，现在我的想法是，业务不忙时，我们就应该每天做些日常锻炼。”
“躺在地上，举起双脚摇来晃去？干这类事？”
“不要那么呆板地理解好不好，提到锻炼，我是指侦探技术的锻炼。模仿一些大师，比如——”
汤米从旁边的抽屉里，拿出一副墨绿色的令人生畏的眼罩，把双眼盖住。他仔细地调整了眼罩，然后从口袋里掏出手表。
“我今天早晨打坏了手表表面，”他说，“正好换块水晶表，这样我敏感的手指轻触就可以了。”
“小心，”塔彭丝说，“你差不多要破产了啊。”
“伸出手来，”汤米说着抓住她的手，把手指放在脉搏上，“啊哈！脉搏正常，这位女士没有心脏病。”
“我猜，”塔彭丝说，“你是在扮演索尔利•科尔顿 [1] ？”
“正是，”汤米说，“我现在是智慧的、专解疑难问题的盲人大师。而你是某位黑头发、脸颊红润的女秘书——”
“曾经是从河边捡来的、用衣服包裹的弃婴。”塔彭丝替他说完。
“阿尔伯特当然就是西菲，外号虾米。”
“我们一定要教他学会尖声尖气地说话，”塔彭丝说，“他的声音不够尖利，反而十分沙哑。”
“现在，你到门边，对墙站着，”汤米说，“你会发现，我敏感的手中握着的这根细细的中空藤木手杖能让我行走自如。”
他刚站起身来，还未迈步，手杖就碰到了一把椅子。
“该死！”他说，“我忘了那儿有把椅子。”
“眼睛瞎了一定非常不便。”塔彭丝深有感触地说。
“确实如此，”汤米由衷地说，“我更同情那些在战争中失去双眼的可怜人儿。但是他们整日生活在黑暗中，实际上却锻炼了其他的感官。这正是我想证实的，我倒要看看是不是真的这样。锻炼自己在黑暗中的行动能力是场愉快的体验。现在，塔彭丝，做个善良的西德尼•泰晤士 [2] 。告诉我，我拄手杖到你那儿还有几步？”
塔彭丝大概估算了一下。
“直走三步，左走五步。”
汤米犹犹豫豫地向前走，塔彭丝警告地大声喊停，她这时发现他左行四步就会撞到墙上。
“事情不像想象的那么容易，”塔彭丝说，“你不知道判断需要走几步有多困难。”
“这十分有趣，”汤米说，“把阿尔伯特叫进来。我要和你们两个握握手，看我能不能分辨出谁是谁。”
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“但是阿尔伯特必须先洗洗手，他那双手一定黏糊糊的，他总是吃那些酸水果糖。”
阿尔伯特了解了这个游戏后，兴致勃勃。
和他俩握完手后，汤米满意地微笑着。
“不出声我也知道，”他轻声说，“第一只手是阿尔伯特的，第二只手是塔彭丝的。”
“错了，”塔彭丝尖声说，“你摸到了我的戒指，但是我把它戴到了阿尔伯特的手指上。”
接下来是各种不同的尝试，但汤米成功的概率并不大。
“但常言道，”汤米说，“一个人不能期望自己绝对正确。我告诉你们下一步计划。现在正是午饭时间，塔彭丝，你和我——盲人和他的引路人，去趟布利兹，到那儿打探点有价值的消息。”
“我说，汤米，我们会惹上麻烦的。”
“不会。我会表现得像个小绅士般规规矩矩。但是我向你保证，午餐后，我一定会令你大吃一惊。”
所有的反对意见都是徒劳。一刻钟后，汤米和塔彭丝舒服地坐在布利兹“黄金屋”酒店角落里的一张餐桌旁。
汤米的手指轻轻划过菜谱。
“法式肉饭和烤鸡肉。”他低声说道。
塔彭丝也点了餐，侍者走开了。
“目前为止，一切顺利，”汤米说，“现在我们开始更刺激的冒险吧。看，那个穿短裙的女孩的一双长腿好迷人啊——就是那个刚刚进来的女孩。”
“你怎么知道，索尔利？”
“迷人的大腿总是会传递给地板一种特殊的振动，我那条中空的手杖感受到了这种信号。当然，坦白地说，每一家富丽堂皇的餐厅，几乎总是会有漂亮的女孩站在门厅，说要找她的朋友。她们穿着短裙走来走去，显然是在展示自己大长腿的优势。”
晚饭继续。
“两张桌子外的那个男人是个十分有钱的奸商，我猜，”汤米漫不经心地说，“犹太人，是不是？”
“很对，”塔彭丝称赞说，“我不知道你是怎么知道的。”
“我不会每次都告诉你是怎么回事。这会完全破坏我的感觉。看，领班在给右边第三张桌子上香槟。一位一身黑衣的粗壮女人，正在经过我们的桌子。”
“汤米，你怎么能——”
“啊哈！你终于开始看到我的本领了。你后边桌子旁，一位身穿棕色衣服的漂亮女孩正站起来。”
“嘘！”塔彭丝说，“那是个穿灰衣服的年轻男人。”
“啊！”汤米说，稍稍尴尬了一下。
不远处一张桌子旁的两个人，一直饶有兴趣地看着这对年轻夫妇，这时他们站起来走到角落里这张桌前。
“打扰了。”年长的那位说，他高个儿，衣着考究，戴着眼镜，留着灰色小胡子，“但是有人说您就是西奥多•布兰特先生，我冒昧地问一下，是真的吗？”
汤米犹豫了一下，多少感到对方有些盛气凌人，但他还是点了点头。
“是的，我是布兰特先生。”
“真是个意外的惊喜！布兰特先生，我午饭后正要去您的办公室拜访。我有麻烦了——很大的麻烦。但是——对不起，您的眼睛出了什么意外？”
“我亲爱的先生，”汤米伤感地说，“我瞎了——完全看不见了。”
“什么？”
“您十分惊讶，但是您一定听说过盲人侦探吧？”
“那只存在于小说中，现实中可从没见过。而且，我从没听说过您是个盲人。”
“许多人都不知道，”汤米嘟囔道，“我今天戴上眼罩，以免眼球被光线刺激到。但是摘了它，没有人会认为我有这个缺陷——如果这是缺陷的话。你看，我的眼睛并不会妨碍我行动自如。但是，还是不谈这些了。我们是马上去我的办公室呢，还是在这儿谈谈您遇到的麻烦？还是在这儿谈好，我想。”
他们叫侍者又拿来两把椅子，这两个男人坐下来。另一个男人一直没有说话，他身材矮小，体格健壮，脸色阴沉。
“这事很麻烦。”年长的那位压低了声音，似乎不太相信塔彭丝。布兰特先生好像感觉到了他那怀疑的一瞥。
“让我介绍一下我的机要秘书，”他说，“甘吉斯 [3] 小姐。她曾是印度恒河边被发现的一个弃婴——被衣服包成一团。多么悲惨的故事！甘吉斯小姐是我的眼睛。我走到哪儿，她就陪到哪儿。”
这个陌生人对塔彭丝点点头表示赞许。
“那我可以大声说了。布兰特先生，我女儿，一个十六岁的孩子，出于某些特殊原因被诱拐了。我半小时前刚知道这事。这次案情特殊，我不敢报警。于是，我给您的办公室打电话。他们告诉我您出去吃午饭了，两点半才会回去。我和朋友就来了这儿，哈克上尉——”
那个矮个儿男人猛地抬起头来，嘴里咕哝了些什么。
“幸运的是您恰好也在这儿用餐。事不宜迟，请务必随我立刻回家。”
汤米谨慎地回绝了。
“半个小时后我去找你，我要先回趟办公室。”
哈克上校，转身瞥了塔彭丝一眼，有些奇怪地看到，一丝微笑浮上了她的嘴角，但转瞬间这笑意就消失了。
“不，不，那不行，您一定要现在跟我回去。”灰白头发的男人从口袋中掏出一张名片隔着桌子递过来，“这上面有我的名字。”
汤米用手指抚摸着名片。
“我的手指感受不到字迹，”他微笑着说，把名字递给塔彭丝，她大声念道：“布莱尔公爵。”
她颇有兴味地看着他们的委托人。
布莱尔公爵是出名的最傲慢、最不可接近的绅士。他和芝加哥一位屠夫的女儿结了婚。他妻子比他小好几岁，脾气喜怒无常，人们议论纷纷，并不看好他们的婚姻。近来不断有传言说二人不和。
“你务必马上和我一块去，布兰特先生？”公爵说，态度有些蛮横。
汤米只能顺从。
“好吧，甘吉斯小姐和我跟您去，”他镇定地说，“您不会介意我先喝一大杯黑咖啡吧？
很快就好。我有严重的头痛病，眼疾的后遗症，咖啡可以舒缓一下神经。”
他叫来一位侍者要了一杯咖啡，然后对塔彭丝说：
“甘吉斯小姐——我明天和法国警长在这儿吃午饭。请记下我点的餐，把菜单交给领班，并请他预留我常用的桌位。我正协助法国警局处理一个重要的案子。至于西菲——”他停了一下，“也要考虑到。准备好了吗，甘吉斯小姐？”
“完全好了。”塔彭丝说，拿出纸笔做好准备。
“我们首先要一份这儿的特色菜基围虾沙拉。然后，让我想想，然后——啊，布利兹煎蛋饼，或许再来两份菲力牛排。”
他停下来，抱歉地喃喃道：
“希望您会原谅，啊，对了，蛋奶酥。以这道菜结束宴会。法国警长是一个非常有趣的人。或许您认识他？”
对方回答说不认识。塔彭丝起身去找领班，很快就回来了。与此同时，侍者端上了咖啡。
汤米小口小口地啜饮，终于喝完了一大杯咖啡，然后站起身。
“我的手杖呢，甘吉斯小姐？谢谢，请带路？”
塔彭丝苦恼了一下。
“右边一步，然后直走十八步。大约在十五步的地方，有一位侍者正在你右边的桌子旁服务。”
斯文地晃着手杖，汤米迈开了脚步。塔彭丝紧挨着他，尽量谦恭地引导他。一切顺利，眼看他们穿过走廊，走出大门，突然一个男人急匆匆地进来，塔彭丝还没来得及提醒双目失明的布兰特先生，他已经实实在在地撞到了来人身上，接下来就是一连串的解释和道歉。
在布利兹酒店大门口，一辆豪华的敞篷汽车正等在那儿。公爵亲自帮助布兰特先生上了车。
“你的车也在这儿，哈克？”他回头问。
“是的，就在拐角处。”
“带甘吉斯小姐上你的车，可以吧。”
未等对方回答，公爵就跳上车坐在汤米旁边，车轮无声地转动了。
“这个事件十分复杂，”公爵低语，“一会儿，我会让您尽快了解所有的细节。”
汤米把手举到头部。
“我可以除去眼罩了，”他高兴地说，“餐厅里人造灯的光线强，才有必要用上它。”
但是他的胳膊被猛地拉下来，与此同时他觉得有什么坚硬的、圆圆的东西戳在他的肋骨上。
“别动，亲爱的布兰特先生，”公爵的声音响起来，但是却突然变了样——“不准摘下眼罩，乖乖坐着，一动也别动。您明白吗？我不想扣动扳机。你明白了吗，我根本不是布莱尔•高里公爵本人。我只是临时借用一下他的名号。我知道你不会拒绝陪伴这样一位声名显赫的顾客。我只是个平常人——一位火腿商人，丢了妻子的火腿商。”
他感觉到自己的话令对方十分震惊。
“这回明白了吧，”他大笑，“我亲爱的年轻人，您真是难以置信的愚蠢。我恐怕——我恐怕你们的表演要到此为止了。”
他说完最后一句话，语气里充满邪恶的快乐。
汤米一动不动地坐着，没有搭理对方的嘲弄。
不久车子减速停下来。
“等一下。”这个冒牌公爵说。他麻利地把一块手帕塞进汤米嘴里，然后用领带用力勒紧。
“以防你蠢得喊救命。”他温和地解释。
车门开了，司机起身准备。他和他的老板把汤米夹在中间，迫使他迅速登上几个台阶，进了一所房子的大门。
大门在他们身后关上了。房子里弥漫着东方特有的气息。汤米的双脚深陷在厚厚的天鹅绒毯中，然后又被拽着再上一段台阶，进入一个房间，他猜测这儿应是这栋房子后面的一个房间。司机出去了，另一个人解开勒在汤米口中的领带，并拿开塞住汤米嘴巴的手帕。
“你现在可以随意说话啦，”他愉快地说，“你有什么要说的，年轻人？”
汤米清了清嗓子，抽动了一下疼痛的嘴角。
“我希望你没有扔了我的中空手杖，”他和蔼地说，“我可是花了大价钱让人特制的。”
“你胆子不小，”对方停顿了一下说，“或许你就是个傻瓜。难道你还不清楚我已经抓住你——攥在了我的掌心里？你现在完全在我的控制之下。没有人知道，也不可能有人再看到你了。”
“你能不能省省这些老套的情节？”汤米埋怨道，“我是不是还得说，‘你个恶棍，我定能打败你’？这类台词已经太俗套了。”
“那个女孩呢？”对方威胁地盯着他，“想想她，也不能让你动摇吗？”
“我被塞住嘴巴，挟持到这儿，根据这种情况，”汤米说，“我不得不得出结论，你那位健谈的年轻人哈克肯定也干了同样的事，因此我那不幸的秘书也会马上过来参加这场小型茶话会。”
“不全对。贝尔斯福德先生——你看，我对你了如指掌——贝尔斯福德太太不会被带到这儿来。这是我的一个小小的防范措施。我觉得你的那些身居要职的朋友可能会监视你们的行踪。兵分两路，就不会都被跟踪。若有意外，我总能掌控一个。现在，我在等——”
突然，他住了口，门开了，那位司机进来说道：
“我们没有被跟踪，先生。咱们干得利落。”
“好，你可以走了，格雷戈里。”
“目前为止，一切顺利，”“公爵”说，“现在我们该怎么处置你呢，贝尔斯福德•布兰特先生？”
“我希望你能把这个讨厌的眼罩摘掉。”汤米说。
“我想我不能，戴着它，你就是真正的盲人——摘了它，你会和我一样看得清楚明白——这对实施我的小计划不利。因为我有一个绝妙的计划，你不是喜欢那些夸大其词的小说吗，布兰特先生。你和你太太今天玩的这个小把戏足以证明这点。现在我也安排了一个小游戏——相当有创意，等我向您解说清楚，我确信您一定会欣然赞同。
“你看，你脚下的那块地板是金属做的，上面到处是小突起。我只要按一下按钮——刺耳的咔嗒声立刻就会响起，电流接通。踩着任何一个小突起都意味着——死亡。你懂吗？
如果你能看见……不过你看不见。你身陷黑暗。这个小游戏——就叫盲人的死亡魔法。如果你能安全到达那扇门——就获得自由！不过我想，在还没到达之前，你注定会碰到一个那种致命的小突起。这太有趣啦——对我来说！”
他走上前解开汤米的双手，然后把手杖递给汤米，讽刺地微微鞠了一躬。
“大名鼎鼎的解决难题的盲人专家。我们来看看，你是否能解决这个问题。我就站在这儿，手枪子弹上膛。如果你举起手摘眼罩，我就开枪。清楚了吗？”
“完全清楚，”汤米说，脸色更加苍白，但是语气却十分坚定，“我猜我没有一线生还的希望？”
“哦，这个嘛——”那位耸耸肩。
“你这个该死的狡猾的魔鬼，”汤米说，“但是你忘记了一件事。另外，我能点支烟吧？
我可怜的小心脏扑通扑通直跳。”
“可以点支烟——但是别耍花招。我盯着你呢，别忘了，枪栓开着。”
“我可不是不识时务的家伙，”汤米说，“我不耍花招。”他从烟盒中抽出一支香烟，然后摸索出一盒火柴。“好，我不是在摸枪。但是你也知道我没带武器。同时我不得不提醒你，正如先前所说，你忘了一件事。”
“什么事？”
汤米从火柴盒中拿出一根火柴，准备划燃。
“我看不到，而你却能看得一清二楚，对吧？你占绝对优势。但是如果我们两个都处于黑暗之中——嗯？那你的优势又在哪儿？”
他划燃了火柴。
“那么瞄准开关射击，让整个房间黑咕隆咚，你就满意了？”
“还行吧，”汤米说，“那我也没法让你看不见。但是物极必反，你知道。来点强光怎么样？”
说着，他用划亮的火柴点着了手里的什么东西，接着把那东西往桌子上一抛。
一股炫目的火焰瞬间照亮了房间。
一瞬间，受强烈的光线刺激，‘公爵’眨着眼睛，踉跄后退，手枪也垂了下去。
等他再次睁开眼睛，竟然发现胸口被一个尖利的东西顶着。
“放下枪！”汤米命令道，“快点，我同意用中空手杖对付你确实是相当老套。所以我并没有使用手杖，而一根内藏刀剑的手杖却是非常有用的武器。不是吗？几乎跟镁光条一样有用。放下枪！”
面对那个闪闪发光的尖利的剑尖，这个人只好放下枪。然后，随着一声大笑，他突然往后退了一步。
“我还是占优势，”他嘲弄道，“我能看见，而你不能。”
“这就是你大错特错的地方。”汤米说，“我也能看得清清楚楚。这个眼罩是假的。我本来打算给塔彭丝也戴一个。先玩一两个小把戏，然后快吃完午餐时再来一场完美的无可挑剔的表演，让你确信我什么都看不到。哇，上帝保佑你，我完全能走到门边，轻松避开那些小突起。但是我不相信你会说话算话。你不会让我活着出去。好了，现在轮到你要小心了——”
‘公爵’由于狂怒，脸部肌肉抽动，暴跳如雷向前扑来，完全忘记了小心脚下。
突然一阵爆裂声，腾起蓝色火苗，他摇摆了一阵，然后像条狗一样倒下了。一股烧焦毛发和烤肉的气味弥漫在整个房间里，混合着一种强烈的臭氧味。
“哇哦。”汤米皱皱眉头。
他抹了把脸上的汗，然后，小心翼翼地一步步挪到墙边，按了一下那人按过的操控按钮。
他快步穿过房间走到门边，小心拉开门，向外张望。门外没有一个人影。然后他迅速下了楼，出了前门。
街上安全，他心有余悸地抬头看看那所房子，不禁打了个寒战，同时注意了一下门牌号码。然后他迅速来到最近的电话亭。
忐忑不安地等了一会儿，接着一个熟悉的声音响起。
“塔彭丝吗？谢天谢地！”
“是的，我很好。我当时完全明白了你的意思。利用去找酒店领班订餐的时间，我通知西菲，外号虾米的，到布利兹大酒店，跟踪那两个陌生人。阿尔伯特及时赶到那儿，当我们分乘两辆车出发时，他便乘出租车紧随我坐的车，看到他们把我带到了哪儿，然后报了警。”
“阿尔伯特好样的，”汤米说，“勇敢。我就知道他会选择跟随你。但我还是一直很放心不下。我有许多事要告诉你。我现在要马上回来。回来后第一件事就是签一张大支票，去圣邓斯坦歌剧院订座。老天，错过了那场演出将是终身憾事。”
[1]索尔利•科尔顿（Thornley Colton）是美国编剧、记者及作家克林顿•斯塔格（Clinton H. Stagg，1888—1916）创造的盲人侦探。
[2]西德尼•泰晤士（Sydney Thames）是索尔利•科尔顿的助手，因是在泰晤士河边被捡到的孤儿，故名。
[3]甘吉斯（Ganges），意思为恒河。
Nine THE MAN IN THE MIST（1）
Nine THE MAN IN THE MIST

Tommy was not pleased with life. Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives had met witha reverse, distressing to their pride if not to their pockets. Called in profes-sionally to elucidate the mystery of a stolen pearl necklace at AdlingtonHall, Adlington, Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives had failed to make good.
Whilst Tommy, hard on the track of a gambling Countess, was trackingher in the disguise of a Roman Catholic priest, and Tuppence was “gettingoff” with the nephew of the house on the golf links, the local Inspector ofPolice had unemotionally arrested the second footman who proved to be athief well- known at headquarters, and who admitted his guilt withoutmaking any bones about it.
Tommy and Tuppence, therefore, had withdrawn with what dignitythey could muster, and were at the present moment solacing themselveswith cocktails at the Grand Adlington Hotel. Tommy still wore his clericaldisguise.
“Hardly a Father Brown touch, that,” he remarked gloomily. “And yetI’ve got just the right kind of umbrella.”
“It wasn’t a Father Brown problem,” said Tuppence. “One needs a cer-tain atmosphere from the start. One must be doing something quite ordin-ary, and then bizarre things begin to happen. That’s the idea.”
“Unfortunately,” said Tommy, “we have to return to town. Perhapssomething bizarre will happen on the way to the station.”
He raised the glass he was holding to his lips, but the liquid in it wassuddenly spilled, as a heavy hand smacked him on the shoulder, and avoice to match the hand boomed out words of greeting.
“Upon my soul, it is! Old Tommy! And Mrs. Tommy too. Where did youblow in from? Haven’t seen or heard anything of you for years.”
“Why, it’s Bulger!” said Tommy, setting down what was left of the cock-tail, and turning to look at the intruder, a big square-shouldered man ofthirty years of age, with a round red beaming face, and dressed in golfingkit. “Good old Bulger!”
“But I say, old chap,” said Bulger (whose real name, by the way, wasMarvyn Estcourt), “I never knew you’d taken orders. Fancy you a blinkingparson.”
Tuppence burst out laughing, and Tommy looked embarrassed. Andthen they suddenly became conscious of a fourth person.
A tall, slender creature, with very golden hair and very round blue eyes,almost impossibly beautiful, with an effect of really expensive blacktopped by wonderful ermines, and very large pearl earrings. She wassmiling. And her smile said many things. It asserted, for instance, that sheknew perfectly well that she herself was the thing best worth looking at,certainly in England, and possibly in the whole world. She was not vainabout it in any way, but she just knew, with certainty and confidence, thatit was so.
Both Tommy and Tuppence recognised her immediately. They had seenher three times in The Secret of the Heart, and an equal number of times inthat other great success, Pillars of Fire, and in innumerable other plays.
There was, perhaps, no other actress in England who had so firm a holdon the British public, as Miss Gilda Glen. She was reported to be the mostbeautiful woman in England. It was also rumoured that she was the stu-pidest.
“Old friends of mine, Miss Glen,” said Estcourt, with a tinge of apology inhis voice for having presumed, even for a moment, to forget such a radi-ant creature. “Tommy and Mrs. Tommy, let me introduce you to MissGilda Glen.”
The ring of pride in his voice was unmistakable. By merely being seen inhis company, Miss Glen had conferred great glory upon him.
The actress was staring with frank interest at Tommy.
“Are you really a priest?” she asked. “A Roman Catholic priest, I mean?
Because I thought they didn’t have wives.”
Estcourt went off in a boom of laughter again.
“That’s good,” he exploded. “You sly dog, Tommy. Glad he hasn’t re-nounced you, Mrs. Tommy, with all the rest of the pomps and vanities.”
Gilda Glen took not the faintest notice of him. She continued to stare atTommy with puzzled eyes.
“Are you a priest?” she demanded.
“Very few of us are what we seem to be,” said Tommy gently. “My pro-fession is not unlike that of a priest. I don’t give absolution—but I listen toconfessions—I—”
“Don’t you listen to him,” interrupted Estcourt. “He’s pulling your leg.”
“If you’re not a clergyman, I don’t see why you’re dressed up like one,”
she puzzled. “That is, unless—”
“Not a criminal flying from justice,” said Tommy. “The other thing.”
“Oh!” she frowned, and looked at him with beautiful bewildered eyes.
“I wonder if she’ll ever get that,” thought Tommy to himself. “Not unlessI put it in words of one syllable for her, I should say.”
Aloud he said:
“Know anything about the trains back to town, Bulger? We’ve got to bepushing for home. How far is it to the station?”
“Ten minutes” walk. But no hurry. Next train up is the 6:35 and it’s onlyabout twenty to six now. You’ve just missed one.”
“Which way is it to the station from here?”
“Sharp to the left when you turn out of the hotel. Then—let me see—down Morgan’s Avenue would be the best way, wouldn’t it?”
“Morgan’s Avenue?” Miss Glen started violently, and stared at him withstartled eyes.
“I know what you’re thinking of,” said Estcourt, laughing. “The Ghost.
Morgan’s Avenue is bounded by the cemetery on one side, and traditionhas it that a policeman who met his death by violence gets up and walkson his old beat, up and down Morgan’s Avenue. A spook policeman! Canyou beat it? But lots of people swear to having seen him.”
“A policeman?” said Miss Glen. She shivered a little. “But there aren’treally any ghosts, are there? I mean—there aren’t such things?”
She got up, folding her wrap tighter round her.
“Goodbye,” she said vaguely.
She had ignored Tuppence completely throughout, and now she did noteven glance in her direction. But, over her shoulder, she threw onepuzzled questioning glance at Tommy.
Just as she got to the door, she encountered a tall man with grey hairand a puffy face, who uttered an exclamation of surprise. His hand on herarm, he led her through the doorway, talking in an animated fashion.
“Beautiful creature, isn’t she?” said Estcourt. “Brains of a rabbit. Ru-mour has it that she’s going to marry Lord Leconbury. That was Lecon-bury in the doorway.”
“He doesn’t look a very nice sort of man to marry,” remarked Tuppence.
Estcourt shrugged his shoulders.
“A title has a kind of glamour still, I suppose,” he said. “And Leconburyis not an impoverished peer by any means. She’ll be in clover. Nobodyknows where she sprang from. Pretty near the gutter, I dare say. There’ssomething deuced mysterious about her being down here anyway. She’snot staying at the hotel. And when I tried to find out where she was stay-ing, she snubbed me — snubbed me quite crudely, in the only way sheknows. Blessed if I know what it’s all about.”
He glanced at his watch and uttered an exclamation.
“I must be off. Jolly glad to have seen you two again. We must have abust in town together some night. So long.”
He hurried away, and as he did so, a page approached with a note on asalver. The note was unaddressed.
“But it’s for you, sir,” he said to Tommy. “From Miss Gilda Glen.”
Tommy tore it open and read it with some curiosity. In-side were a few lines written in a straggling untidyhand.
I’m not sure, but I think you might be able to help me. Andyou’ll be going that way to the station. Could you be at TheWhite House, Morgan’s Avenue, at ten minutes past six?
Yours sincerely,
Gilda Glen.
Tommy nodded to the page, who departed, and then handed the note toTuppence.
“Extraordinary!” said Tuppence. “Is it because she still thinks you’re apriest?”
“No,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “I should say it’s because she’s at lasttaken in that I’m not one. Hullo! what’s this?”
“This,” was a young man with flaming red hair, a pugnacious jaw, andappallingly shabby clothes. He had walked into the room and was nowstriding up and down muttering to himself.
“Hell!” said the red-haired man, loudly and forcibly. “That’s what I say—Hell!”
He dropped into a chair near the young couple and stared at themmoodily.
“Damn all women, that’s what I say,” said the young man, eyeing Tup-pence ferociously. “Oh! all right, kick up a row if you like. Have me turnedout of the hotel. It won’t be for the first time. Why shouldn’t we say whatwe think? Why should we go about bottling up our feelings, and smirking,and saying things exactly like everyone else. I don’t feel pleasant and po-lite. I feel like getting hold of someone round the throat and graduallychoking them to death.”
He paused.
“Any particular person?” asked Tuppence. “Or just anybody?”
“One particular person,” said the young man grimly.
“This is very interesting,” said Tuppence. “Won’t you tell us somemore?”
“My name’s Reilly,” said the red-haired man. “James Reilly. You mayhave heard it. I wrote a little volume of Pacifist poems—good stuff, al-though I say so.”
“Pacifist poems?” said Tuppence.
“Yes—why not?” demanded Mr. Reilly belligerently.
“Oh! nothing,” said Tuppence hastily.
“I’m for peace all the time,” said Mr. Reilly fiercely. “To Hell with war.
And women! Women! Did you see that creature who was trailing aroundhere just now? Gilda Glen, she calls herself. Gilda Glen! God! how I’ve wor-shipped that woman. And I’ll tell you this—if she’s got a heart at all, it’s onmy side. She cared once for me, and I could make her care again. And ifshe sells herself to that muck heap, Leconbury—well, God help her. I’d assoon kill her with my own hands.”
And on this, suddenly, he rose and rushed from the room.
Tommy raised his eyebrows.
“A somewhat excitable gentleman,” he murmured. “Well, Tuppence,shall we start?”
A fine mist was coming up as they emerged from the hotel into the coolouter air. Obeying Estcourt’s directions, they turned sharp to the left, andin a few minutes they came to a turning labelled Morgan’s Avenue.
The mist had increased. It was soft and white, and hurried past them inlittle eddying drifts. To their left was the high wall of the cemetery, ontheir right a row of small houses. Presently these ceased, and a high hedgetook their place.
“Tommy,” said Tuppence. “I’m beginning to feel jumpy. The mist—andthe silence. As though we were miles from anywhere.”
“One does feel like that,” agreed Tommy. “All alone in the world. It’s theeffect of the mist, and not being able to see ahead of one.”
Tuppence nodded.
“Just our footsteps echoing on the pavement. What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
“I thought I heard other footsteps behind us.”
“You’ll be seeing the ghost in a minute if you work yourself up like this,”
said Tommy kindly. “Don’t be so nervy. Are you afraid the spook police-man will lay his hands on your shoulder?”
Tuppence emitted a shrill squeal.
“Don’t, Tommy. Now you’ve put it into my head.”
She craned her head back over her shoulder, trying to peer into thewhite veil that was wrapped all round them.
“There they are again,” she whispered. “No, they’re in front now. Oh!
Tommy, don’t say you can’t hear them?”
“I do hear something. Yes, it’s footsteps behind us. Somebody else walk-ing this way to catch the train. I wonder—”
He stopped suddenly, and stood still, and Tuppence gave a gasp.
For the curtain of mist in front of them suddenly parted in the most arti-ficial manner, and there, not twenty feet away, a gigantic policeman sud-denly appeared, as though materialised out of the fog. One minute he wasnot there, the next minute he was—so at least it seemed to the rather su-perheated imaginations of the two watchers. Then as the mist rolled backstill more, a little scene appeared, as though set on a stage.
The big blue policeman, a scarlet pillar box, and on the right of the roadthe outlines of a white house.
“Red, white, and blue,” said Tommy. “It’s damned pictorial. Come on,Tuppence, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
For, as he had already seen, the policeman was a real policeman. And,moreover, he was not nearly so gigantic as he had at first seemed loomingup out of the mist.
But as they started forward, footsteps came from behind them. A manpassed them, hurrying along. He turned in at the gate of the white house,ascended the steps, and beat a deafening tattoo upon the knocker. He wasadmitted just as they reached the spot where the policeman was standingstaring after him.
“There’s a gentleman seems to be in a hurry,” commented the police-man.
He spoke in a slow reflective voice, as one whose thoughts took sometime to mature.
“He’s the sort of gentleman always would be in a hurry,” remarkedTommy.
The policeman’s stare, slow and rather suspicious, came round to reston his face.
“Friend of yours?” he demanded, and there was distinct suspicion nowin his voice.
“No,” said Tommy. “He’s not a friend of mine, but I happen to know whohe is. Name of Reilly.”
“Ah!” said the policeman. “Well, I’d better be getting along.”
“Can you tell me where the White House is?” asked Tommy.
The constable jerked his head sideways.
“This is it. Mrs. Honeycott’s.” He paused, and added, evidently with theidea of giving them valuable information, “Nervous party. Always suspect-ing burglars is around. Always asking me to have a look around the place.
Middle-aged women get like that.”
“Middle-aged, eh?” said Tommy. “Do you happen to know if there’s ayoung lady staying there?”
“A young lady,” said the policeman, ruminating. “A young lady. No, Ican’t say I know anything about that.”
“She mayn’t be staying here, Tommy,” said Tuppence. “And anyway, shemayn’t be here yet. She could only have started just before we did.”
“Ah!” said the policeman suddenly. “Now that I call it to mind, a younglady did go in at this gate. I saw her as I was coming up the road. Aboutthree or four minutes ago it might be.”
“With ermine furs on?” asked Tuppence eagerly.
“She had some kind of white rabbit round her throat,” admitted the po-liceman.
Tuppence smiled. The policeman went on in the direction from whichthey had just come, and they prepared to enter the gate of the WhiteHouse.
Suddenly, a faint, muffled cry sounded from inside the house, and al-most immediately afterwards the front door opened and James Reillycame rushing down the steps. His face was white and twisted, and his eyesglared in front of him unseeingly. He staggered like a drunken man.
He passed Tommy and Tuppence as though he did not see them, mutter-ing to himself with a kind of dreadful repetition.
“My God! My God! Oh, my God!”
He clutched at the gatepost, as though to steady himself, and then, asthough animated by sudden panic, he raced off down the road as hard ashe could go in the opposite direction from that taken by the policeman.
Nine THE MAN IN THE MIST（2）
II
Tommy and Tuppence stared at each other in bewilderment.
“Well,” said Tommy, “something’s happened in that house to scare ourfriend Reilly pretty badly.”
Tuppence drew her finger absently across the gatepost.
“He must have put his hand on some wet red paint somewhere,” shesaid idly.
“H’m,” said Tommy. “I think we’d better go inside rather quickly. I don’tunderstand this business.”
In the doorway of the house a white-capped maidservant was standing,almost speechless with indignation.
“Did you ever see the likes of that now, Father,” she burst out, as Tommyascended the steps. “That fellow comes here, asks for the young lady,rushes upstairs without how or by your leave. She lets out a screech like awild cat—and what wonder, poor pretty dear, and straightaway he comesrushing down again, with the white face on him, like one who’s seen aghost. What will be the meaning of it all?”
“Who are you talking with at the front door, Ellen?” demanded a sharpvoice from the interior of the hall.
“Here’s Missus,” said Ellen, somewhat unnecessarily.
She drew back, and Tommy found himself confronting a grey-haired,middle-aged woman, with frosty blue eyes imperfectly concealed by pince-nez, and a spare figure clad in black with bugle trimming.
“Mrs. Honeycott?” said Tommy. “I came here to see Miss Glen.”
“Mrs. Honeycott gave him a sharp glance, then went on to Tuppence andtook in every detail of her appearance.
“Oh, you did, did you?” she said. “Well, you’d better come inside.”
She led the way into the hall and along it into a room at the back of thehouse, facing on the garden. It was a fair-sized room, but looked smallerthan it was, owing to the large amount of chairs and tables crowded intoit. A big fire burned in the grate, and a chintz-covered sofa stood at oneside of it. The wallpaper was a small grey stripe with a festoon of rosesround the top. Quantities of engravings and oil paintings covered thewalls.
It was a room almost impossible to associate with the expensive person-ality of Miss Gilda Glen.
“Sit down,” said Mrs. Honeycott. “To begin with, you’ll excuse me if I sayI don’t hold with the Roman Catholic religion. Never did I think to see aRoman Catholic priest in my house. But if Gilda’s gone over to the ScarletWoman, it’s only what’s to be expected in a life like hers—and I dare say itmight be worse. She mightn’t have any religion at all. I should think moreof Roman Catholics if their priests were married — I always speak mymind. And to think of those convents—quantities of beautiful young girlsshut up there, and no one knowing what becomes of them—well, it won’tbear thinking about.”
Mrs. Honeycott came to a full stop, and drew a deep breath.
Without entering upon a defence of the celibacy of the priesthood or theother controversial points touched upon, Tommy went straight to thepoint.
“I understand, Mrs. Honeycott, that Miss Glen is in this house.”
“She is. Mind you, I don’t approve. Marriage is marriage and your hus-band’s your husband. As you make your bed, so you must lie on it.”
“I don’t quite understand—” began Tommy, bewildered.
“I thought as much. That’s the reason I brought you in here. You can goup to Gilda after I’ve spoken my mind. She came to me—after all theseyears, think of it!—and asked me to help her. Wanted me to see this manand persuade him to agree to a divorce. I told her straight out I’d havenothing whatever to do with it. Divorce is sinful. But I couldn’t refuse myown sister shelter in my house, could I now?”
“Your sister?” exclaimed Tommy.
“Yes, Gilda’s my sister. Didn’t she tell you?”
Tommy stared at her openmouthed. The thing seemed fantastically im-possible. Then he remembered that the angelic beauty of Gilda Glen hadbeen in evidence for many years. He had been taken to see her act as quitea small boy. Yes, it was possible after all. But what a piquant contrast. So itwas from this lower middle- class respectability that Gilda Glen hadsprung. How well she had guarded her secret!
“I am not yet quite clear,” he said. “Your sister is married?”
“Ran away to be married as a girl of seventeen,” said Mrs. Honeycottsuccinctly. “Some common fellow far below her in station. And our fathera reverend. It was a disgrace. Then she left her husband and went on thestage. Playacting! I’ve never been inside a theatre in my life. I hold notruck with wickedness. Now, after all these years, she wants to divorce theman. Means to marry some big wig, I suppose. But her husband’s standingfirm—not to be bullied and not to be bribed—I admire him for it.”
“What is his name?” asked Tommy suddenly.
“That’s an extraordinary thing now, but I can’t remember! It’s nearlytwenty years ago, you know, since I heard it. My father forbade it to bementioned. And I’ve refused to discuss the matter with Gilda. She knowswhat I think, and that’s enough for her.”
“It wasn’t Reilly, was it?”
“Might have been. I really can’t say. It’s gone clean out of my head.”
“The man I mean was here just now.”
“That man! I thought he was an escaped lunatic. I’d been in the kitchengiving orders to Ellen. I’d just got back into this room, and was wonderingwhether Gilda had come in yet (she has a latchkey), when I heard her. Shehesitated a minute or two in the hall and then went straight upstairs.
About three minutes later all this tremendous rat-tatting began. I went outinto the hall, and just saw a man rushing upstairs. Then there was a sort ofcry upstairs, and presently down he came again and rushed out like amadman. Pretty goings on.”
Tommy rose.
“Mrs. Honeycott, let us go upstairs at once. I am afraid—”
“What of?”
“Afraid that you have no red wet paint in the house.”
Mrs. Honeycott stared at him.
“Of course I haven’t.”
“That is what I feared,” said Tommy gravely. “Please let us go to yoursister’s room at once.”
Momentarily silenced, Mrs. Honeycott led the way. They caught aglimpse of Ellen in the hall, backing hastily into one of the rooms.
Mrs. Honeycott opened the first door at the top of the stairs. Tommy andTuppence entered close behind her.
Suddenly she gave a gasp and fell back.
A motionless figure in black and ermine lay stretched on the sofa. Theface was untouched, a beautiful soulless face like a mature child asleep.
The wound was on the side of the head, a heavy blow with some blunt in-strument had crushed in the skull. Blood was dripping slowly on to thefloor, but the wound itself had long ceased to bleed. .?.?.
Tommy examined the prostrate figure, his face very white.
“So,” he said at last, “he didn’t strangle her after all.”
“What do you mean? Who?” cried Mrs. Honeycott. “Is she dead?”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Honeycott, she’s dead. Murdered. The question is—bywhom? Not that it is much of a question. Funny—for all his ranting words,I didn’t think the fellow had got it in him.”
He paused a minute, then turned to Tuppence with decision.
“Will you go out and get a policeman, or ring up the police station fromsomewhere?”
Tuppence nodded. She too, was very white. Tommy led Mrs. Honeycottdownstairs again.
“I don’t want there to be any mistake about this,” he said. “Do you knowexactly what time it was when your sister came in?”
“Yes, I do,” said Mrs. Honeycott. “Because I was just setting the clock onfive minutes as I have to do every evening. It loses just five minutes a day.
It was exactly eight minutes past six by my watch, and that never loses orgains a second.”
Tommy nodded. That agreed perfectly with the policeman’s story. Hehad seen the woman with the white furs go in at the gate, probably threeminutes had elapsed before he and Tuppence had reached the same spot.
He had glanced at his own watch then and had noted that it was just oneminute after the time of their appointment.
There was just the faint chance that someone might have been waitingfor Gilda Glen in the room upstairs. But if so, he must still be hiding in thehouse. No one but James Reilly had left it.
He ran upstairs and made a quick but efficient search of the premises.
But there was no one concealed anywhere.
Then he spoke to Ellen. After breaking the news to her, and waiting forher first lamentations and invocations to the saints to have exhaustedthemselves, he asked a few questions.
Had any one else come to the house that afternoon asking for Miss Glen?
No one whatsoever. Had she herself been upstairs at all that evening? Yesshe’d gone up at six o’clock as usual to draw the curtains—or it might havebeen a few minutes after six. Anyway it was just before that wild fellowcame breaking the knocker down. She’d run downstairs to answer thedoor. And him a black-hearted murderer all the time.
Tommy let it go at that. But he still felt a curious pity for Reilly, and un-willingness to believe the worst of him. And yet there was no one else whocould have murdered Gilda Glen. Mrs. Honeycott and Ellen had been theonly two people in the house.
He heard voices in the hall, and went out to find Tuppence and the po-liceman from the beat outside. The latter had produced a notebook, and arather blunt pencil, which he licked surreptitiously. He went upstairs andsurveyed the victim stolidly, merely remarking that if he was to touch any-thing the Inspector would give him beans. He listened to all Mrs. Honey-cott’s hysterical outbursts and confused explanations, and occasionally hewrote something down. His presence was calming and soothing.
Tommy finally got him alone for a minute or two on the steps outsideere he departed to telephone headquarters.
“Look here,” said Tommy, “you saw the deceased turning in at the gate,you say. Are you sure she was alone?”
“Oh! she was alone all right. Nobody with her.”
“And between that time and when you met us, nobody came out of thegate?”
“Not a soul.”
“You’d have seen them if they had?”
“Of course I should. Nobody come out till that wild chap did.”
The majesty of the law moved portentously down the steps and pausedby the white gatepost, which bore the imprint of a hand in red.
“Kind of amateur he must have been,” he said pityingly. “To leave athing like that.”
Then he swung out into the road.
第九章 迷雾魅影（1）
第九章 迷雾魅影
1汤米连日来心情不佳。布兰特卓越事务所遭遇败北，就算不是经济上的打击，也是自尊心的挫败。在阿林顿市阿林顿府邸发生了珍珠项链被盗事件，他们以专业侦探的身份接受委托，然而布兰特卓越的侦探们却没有探出个究竟。汤米乔装打扮成一位罗马天主教神父，费尽心机跟踪那位嗜赌如命的女伯爵，而塔彭丝也在高尔夫球场上使出浑身解数对这个家族的侄子“献媚取宠”。此时当地的警探却不动声色地逮捕了这座府邸的随从侍卫，总部有充分证据证明他是个惯犯，早已记录在案。这家伙一五一十地招供了所有的罪行。
汤米和塔彭丝只好灰头土脸地回来。现在二人正在大阿林顿酒店喝着鸡尾酒聊以自慰。汤米还穿着那件神父装。
“布郎神父如此机智也于事无补，”他沮丧地说，“而我只剩下这一样保护伞了。”
“这可不是关于布郎神父的问题，”塔彭丝说，“关键是，从一开始就需要某种环境，一定要先从平凡的事情做起，然后才会有奇迹出现。这是万事的规律。”
“不幸的是，”汤米说，“我们不得不回到伦敦，但愿去车站的路上会有奇迹发生。”
他把手中的酒杯举到唇边，但是里面的液体却突然溅了出来，这是因为一只沉重的大手拍在他的肩膀上，同时一个低沉的嗓音问候道：
“上帝，是老朋友汤米！啊，还有汤米太太。什么风把你们吹来了？好多年不曾见到，也没有听到你们的消息了。”
“哎呀，是巴尔杰。”汤米说，放下还残留少许鸡尾酒的酒杯，转过身去看着这个突然打扰他们的人。来者是个大块头，宽肩膀，大约三十多岁，一张泛着红光的愉快的圆脸，身着一套高尔夫运动装。“你好，愉快的老巴尔杰！”
“但是，老伙计，”巴尔杰说（顺便补充下，他的真名叫马文•埃斯特科特），“我从不曾听说你做了神父，难以想象，你居然是个该死的神父。”
塔彭丝忍不住发出了一阵大笑，汤米尴尬地看着她。然后，他们突然意识到有第四个人在场。
这是一个身材窈窕的女孩，一头金色秀发，圆圆的蓝眼睛，美得不可方物。她身着一件昂贵的黑色貂皮大衣，头戴漂亮的貂皮帽，耳朵上一对硕大的珍珠耳坠。她微笑着，那微笑似乎在说，她清楚地知道自己是全英格兰，甚至是全世界是最值得人们仰慕的美人。
尽管对此她并不自负，但是却十分确定。
无论汤米还是塔彭丝都立刻认出了她。他们已三次在《心灵的秘密》这场戏里欣赏过她的精彩表演；在另一部成功的剧作《火之柱》中，也曾三次目睹过她的风采，在其他的戏中更是见过她无数次。或许，在英格兰，没有任何其他演员比吉尔达•格兰小姐在英国观众心目中占据更恒久的地位了。报纸上报道她是全英国最漂亮的女人，但是也有谣言说她是全英国最大的傻瓜。
“我的老朋友，格兰小姐。”埃斯特科特说，语气里带着些许歉意，因为竟然冷落了这位光彩照人的尤物，哪怕片刻时间也是不应该的。
“汤米和汤米太太，这位是吉尔达•格兰小姐。”
他的语气里带着无可置疑的自豪。单是有幸能陪伴格兰小姐出现在公众场合，就给了他莫大的荣耀。
这位女演员毫不掩饰地极有兴趣地盯着汤米。
“您真的是神父？”她问道，“一位天主教神父？我以为他们是不结婚的。”
埃斯科特再次大笑起来。
“太好了，”他爆笑说，“你这个诡计多端的家伙，汤米。汤米太太，很高兴他没有和您断绝关系，他还有点良心。”
吉尔达•格兰连看都不看他一眼，继续困惑地盯着汤米。
“您真的是神父吗？”她问。
“我们的生活和表面看起来不一样，”汤米轻轻地说，“我的职业不像一般的神父。我不给人告解——但是我聆听忏悔——我——”
“别听他的，”埃斯科特打断他，“他开玩笑呢。”
“如果你不是神父，我不明白你为啥穿成这样，”她不解地问，“除非——”
“我让任何罪犯都难逃法网，”汤米说，“也履行其他类似的职责。”
“哦。”她皱着眉头，一双美丽而又困惑的眼睛盯着他。
“我怀疑她能否明白我的话，”汤米心想，“恐怕得一个字一个字地说给她听。”
他大声问道：
“巴尔杰，知道回城的火车几点吗？我们急着回家，这儿到车站有多远？”
“步行十分钟。但是不急，下趟车是六点三十五发车，现在才五点四十，你刚错过一班。”
“从这儿到车站怎么走？”
“出了酒店，直接左转，然后——我看看——沿着摩根大道直行，这是最佳路线，对吧？”
“摩根大道？”格兰小姐突然激动起来，惊讶地瞪着他。
“我知道你在想什么，”埃斯科特大笑着说，“是鬼。摩根大道一侧是墓地，传说有个在暴乱中死去的警察的鬼魂出现，还带着他的伤口，出没在摩根大道。一个幽灵警察！你相信吗？但是许多人赌咒发誓说亲眼看到过。”
“一位警察？”格兰小姐说，她打了个哆嗦，“但实际上，世界上并没有鬼魂，不是吗？
我的意思是——不会有这样恐怖的事情吧？”
她站起身，把外衣紧裹在身上。
“好了，再见。”她含糊地说。
她自始至终都完全没有理睬塔彭丝，甚至告别的时候，她也看都没看塔彭丝一眼。但是，临走时她扭过头来又疑惑地看了一眼汤米。
她刚走到酒店门口，就迎面遇到了一个高个儿男人，他头发灰白，脸色通红，这个人惊喜地叫了起来，随后扶着她的胳膊，引她穿过门厅，亲切地和她交谈。
“真是个漂亮的尤物，是吧？”埃斯科特说，“但是却长了个兔子脑袋。有传言说她要嫁给勒康伯里勋爵。门厅里那位就是勒康伯里勋爵。”
“看起来他并不是一个好的结婚对象。”塔彭丝说。
埃斯科特耸了耸肩。
“爵位还是很有吸引力的，我猜，”他说，“再说了，勒康伯里可不是个破落贵族。嫁给他，她会过上养尊处优的生活。没有人知道她的出身。我猜应该是来自贫民区。关于她的身世谜团，总可以根据一些事情来推断。她不住在酒店。我曾试图打听她究竟住在哪儿，却遭到她的斥责——十分严厉的斥责，只有她才会这么做。天知道这究竟是怎么回事。”
他看了一眼手表，惊叫一声。
“我必须得走了。非常高兴再见到你们两位。改天我们在伦敦一起痛快喝一杯，再见。”
他急匆匆地走了，这时一个侍者手托一个浅托盘送来一页便签，上面没有署名。
“这是给您的，先生，”他对汤米说，“吉尔达•格兰小姐让送的。”
汤米好奇地撕开，信封内页上歪歪扭扭地写了几行字：
我不确定，但是我想您或许能帮帮我。您将要走那条路去火车站，那么您能在六点十分去一趟摩根大道旁边的白房子吗？
您真诚的，
吉尔达•格兰
汤米对着这页纸点点头，侍者走后，他把这个便签递给了塔彭丝。“这太奇怪了，”塔彭丝说，“难道是因为她还认为你是神父吗？”“不是，”汤米若有所思地说，“我想应该是因为她最终明白我不是神父。喂，这是什么？”
汤米口中的“这”是一个年轻人，一头火红的头发，桀骜不驯的下巴，穿着一身极为破旧的衣服。他已走进房间，向他们走来，嘴里自言自语。
“活见鬼了！”这个红发男人用力大声地喊道，“我说的正是——活见鬼！”
他扑通一下坐在这对年轻夫妇旁边的椅子上，十分不高兴地盯着他们。
“所有女人都该见鬼去，这就是我要说的，”这个年轻人说，狠狠地看着塔彭丝，“哦！
只要不高兴就把我踢到街上。把我赶出酒店，这不是第一次了。我们为什么不能说出我们的想法？我们为什么要抑制自己的情感，我们为什么非得傻笑，说着和别人一样的话？我并不认为这样讨人喜欢，这样就是彬彬有礼。我觉得这就像是扼住了某人的喉咙，慢慢地让他窒息而死。”
他住了嘴。
“这话是针对某个人？”塔彭丝问，“还是所有人？”
“某个人。”这个年轻人冷酷地说。
“有趣，”塔彭丝说，“你愿意给我们讲得更详细点吗？”
“我的名字叫赖利，”这个红头发男人说，“詹姆斯•赖利。你可能听说过这个名字，我写过一部宣传和平主义的诗集——写得不错，不自夸地说。”
“和平主义诗歌？”塔彭丝吃惊地说。
“是的——有什么问题吗？”赖利挑衅地问。
“哦！没什么。”塔彭丝赶紧说。
“我一直向往和平，”赖利恶狠狠地说，“让战争和女人下地狱吧！女人！你看到刚才在这儿晃荡的那个女人了吧？她自称吉尔达•格兰。吉尔达•格兰！哼！我曾是那么仰慕她。我对你们说——如果她还有颗心，就应该感受到我的情感。她曾经喜欢过我，我一定还能赢得她的芳心。如果她把自己卖给那堆臭粪，勒康伯里——哼，我会立刻亲手杀了她！愿上帝保佑她。”
说到这儿，他突然站起来，冲出了房间。
汤米扬起眉头。
“真是位冲动的绅士，”他喃喃道，“好了，塔彭丝，我们是不是该出发了？”
他们从酒店里出来，沉浸到外面凉爽的空气中，一阵浓雾弥漫开来。按照埃斯科特的指引，他们在酒店左边直接转弯，几分钟后他们来到一个拐角，路牌上标着：“摩根大道。”
雾气变浓了，柔软的、奶白色的浓雾一小团一小团迅速地从他们身边飘过。他们的左侧是墓地的高墙，右侧是一排小房子。没过多久，这些都没有了，取而代之的是高高的树篱。
“汤米，”塔彭丝说，“我觉得心惊肉跳。这浓雾——和这寂静，好像我们与世隔绝了。”
“人都会有这样的感觉，”汤米赞同道，“孑然一身。这是迷雾的效果，我们无法看清前方。”
塔彭丝点点头。
“只有我们的脚步声回响在人行道上。听，那是什么声音？”
“什么什么声音？”
“我想我听到后面有脚步声。”
“如果你再这样紧张，一会儿你还会看到鬼魂呢，”汤米温和地说，“别这么紧张。是不是怕那个幽灵警察把手搭在你的肩膀上？”
塔彭丝发出一声刺耳的尖叫。
“别说了，汤米，现在你让我不由自主地想到那个可怕的场景。”
她扭过头去，伸长脖子，竭力想透过环绕着他们的白纱看到什么。
“又来了，”她小声说，“不，现在越来越近了。哦，汤米，别说你听不到？”
“我确实听到了什么，是的，我们后面有脚步声。还有人走这条路想赶火车。我怀疑——”
他突然停下来，一动不动地站着，塔彭丝也倒吸了一口气。
他们面前的浓雾纱帘仿佛突然被人刷地一下拉开了。而那儿，不到二十步远的地方，一个巨人般的警察突然出现。好像是鬼魂从浓雾中突然显形，转瞬间，又消失了。再一转眼，又出现了。这当然也可能是两个目击者因极度恐惧产生的幻觉。随后，浓雾消退，背景逐渐清晰，一幕场景呈现出来，好像一幕戏剧的开场：
一位身材高大、身着蓝色制服的警察，鲜红的邮筒，路的右边露出白房子的轮廓。
“红的、白的、蓝的，”汤米说，“真他妈的逼真，来吧，塔彭丝，没什么可怕的。”
因为，他看到的那位警察是个真正的警察。而且，他也并不像刚才在浓雾中浮现出来时那么高大。
但是当他们继续前行时，脚步声又从后面响起，一个男人急匆匆地从他们身边经过。
他拐进了白房子的大门，踏上台阶，大声叩击着门环。这时他们正从那个警察所站的地方经过，他确信那个人在盯着他们看。
“那位绅士似乎很着急。”这个警察发表意见。
他缓慢地、若有所思地说，似乎在深思熟虑。
“他就是那类急性子的绅士。”汤米评价道。
警察慢慢地把怀疑的目光转到他的脸上。
“不，”汤米说，“他不是我的朋友，但是我偶然认识他，他叫赖利。”
“啊哈！”警察说，“好吧，我应该继续巡逻。”
“您能告诉我白房子在哪儿吗？”汤米说。
警官向一侧偏偏头。
“这儿就是。霍尼科特太太的住宅。”他停下脚步，补充道，显然是想给他们提供点有价值的信息，“一个神经质的女人，总是怀疑周围有窃贼。总是让我监视她房子的周围。一个中年妇女总喜欢那样。”
“中年妇女，啊？”汤米说，“那您知不知道有一位年轻女士待在这儿？”
“年轻女士？”警察沉思道，“一位年轻女士，没有，我可以说我一点不知道。”
“她可能不住在这儿，汤米，”塔彭丝说，“而且，她也不可能在这儿。在我们动身前，她可能已经走了。”
“啊！”这个警察突然说，“现在我突然想起来，一位女士确实进过这扇大门。我刚沿着这条路走过来时看见过她，大约三四分钟前或许。”
“穿着一件貂皮大衣？”塔彭丝急切地问。
“脖子里确实围着个类似白色兔子似的东西。”警官说。
塔彭丝笑了笑。那警察朝他们走来的方向离去，而他俩也准备进入白房子的大门。
突然，一声低沉的、压抑的喊声从房子里面传出来。几乎与此同时，房子前门打开了，詹姆斯•赖利慌慌张张冲下台阶。他的脸苍白而扭曲，眼睛空洞地盯着前方，摇摇晃晃像个醉汉。
他从汤米和塔彭丝身边经过，却似乎没有看到他俩，嘴里喃喃自语，一遍遍地重复着：
“我的天啊！我的天！哦，我的天啊！”
他一把抓住门柱，似乎要稳住身体，但接着，似乎被突出其来的一阵恐慌所驱使，他迅速冲下路面，沿着与刚才那位警察相反的方向狂奔而去。
第九章 迷雾魅影（2）
2汤米和塔彭丝面面相觑，满腹疑惑。
“看来，”汤米说，“那所房子里一定发生了什么事，把我们的朋友赖利吓坏了。”
塔彭丝漫不经心地伸出手指划过门柱。
“他的手一定在什么地方摸到了刚涂了红色油漆的东西。”
“啊，”汤米说，“我想我们最好快点进去，我真捉摸不透里面发生了什么。”
房门口，一位戴白帽子的女仆站在那儿，愤怒得几乎说不出话来：
“您见过那样的吗，神父，”她叫嚷着，当汤米登上台阶时，“那个家伙过来，说要找一位年轻女士。他不声不响地冲上楼。不一会儿，她就像只野猫似的发出一声尖叫——奇怪，可怜的美丽姑娘，紧接着他又直冲下来，脸色苍白，像撞见了鬼，这到底是怎么回事？”
“你和谁在前门说话，艾伦？”门厅里一个尖锐的声音问道。
“太太来了。”艾伦说道，其实已没必要介绍。
她退后一步，汤米发现自己面对着一位灰白头发的中年妇女，一双冷淡的蓝眼睛完全隐在夹鼻眼镜后面，骨瘦如柴的身体，裹着一件黑色紧身的外衣，镶着喇叭形花边。
“霍尼科特太太？”汤米说，“我来这儿要见一见格兰小姐。”
霍尼科特太太尖锐地看了他一眼，然后走向塔彭丝，仔细打量着她。
“哦，是吗？”她说，“那么你最好进来。”
她在前面带路进了门厅，沿着门厅前行进入这所房子后面的一个房间，这个房间正对着花园。这是一个很大的房间，但是比实际显得小一些，因为房间里塞满了桌椅。壁炉里燃烧着熊熊火焰，包着印花布的沙发摆在另一边。墙上贴着灰色细条纹壁纸，房顶环绕着彩色玫瑰进行装饰。大量的雕刻和油画遮住了墙壁。
这个房间的陈设似乎不可能和高贵的吉尔达•格兰小姐联系起来。
“请坐，”霍尼科特太太说，“首先，您要原谅我，如果我说我不信天主教，也从没想过会有天主教神父来到我家。但是如果吉尔达改信了罗马异教的话，也就不难想象她的生活会变成什么样了——我敢说会越来越糟糕。她根本不可能有什么信仰。如果罗马天主教的神父可以结婚，我倒应该多考虑考虑这个教派——我总是实话实说。想想那些女修道院，许多年轻貌美的女孩被关在那儿，没有人知道她们会遭遇什么——哎，真不敢想象。”
霍尼科特太太终于住了嘴，深吸了一口气。
没有进一步为教士的禁欲主义辩护，也没有进一步探讨其他有争议的地方，汤米直入主题：
“我知道，霍尼科特太太，格兰小姐在这所房子里。”
“是的，但是我不赞同她这么做。婚姻就是婚姻，嫁鸡随鸡，嫁狗随狗。如果你铺好了床，那你就一定要躺在上面。”
“我不明白——”汤米有些兴奋地说。
“我也不明白。这也是我带你们进来的原因。等我说完我憋在内心的话后，您可以上去找吉尔达。她来找我——在事隔这么多年之后，你们想想看！——她求我帮帮她，想让我见见她的丈夫，说服他同意离婚。我坦白地告诉她，我绝不插手这件事。离婚是有罪的，但是我不能拒绝自己的妹妹在我的房子里有一块栖身之地，对吧？”
“您的妹妹？”汤米问道。
“是的，吉尔达是我的妹妹，她没有告诉过您吗？”
汤米目瞪口呆地看着她。这件事似乎难以置信。然后，他回想起天使般美丽的吉尔达•格兰似乎已经出名很多年了，他还是个小男孩的时候就看她的表演。是的，这毕竟是有可能的。但她们之间有多么鲜明的反差啊。吉尔达•格兰就是出身于这个下层中产阶级家庭。
而她把这个秘密藏得可真好啊！
“我还是不太明白，”他说，“您的妹妹已经结婚了？”
“十七岁时私奔的，”霍尼科特太太简洁地说，“和一个地位低下、极不相配的普通家伙。而我们的父亲难以接受。这事闹得很不愉快。后来她离开她的丈夫去演戏。演戏！我这辈子都没进过剧院。我坚决不和不道德的事情打交道。现在，这么多年之后，她想和这个男人离婚。我猜，是想和另一位大人物结婚。但是她的丈夫坚决不离——威武不屈，利诱不受——我佩服他这点。”
“他叫什么？”汤米突然问。
“很特别的名字，但是我不记得了！我听到这个名字大约是在二十年前。我父亲不许提起这个名字。我也不愿和吉尔达讨论这件事。她知道我怎么想，这就够了。”
“不会是赖利吧？是吗？”
“可能是吧，但我真说不准。我完全记不清了。”
“我是说刚才来这儿的那个人。”
“啊，那个人！我以为他是个从医院逃跑的精神病人。当时我在厨房给艾伦安排事情，刚回到这个房间，正在想吉尔达回来没有（她有一把钥匙），我就听见她的声音。她在大厅里耽搁了一两分钟，然后径直上楼。大约三分钟后，那个吓人的砰砰的敲门声就响起来了。我来到门厅，只见一个男人冲上楼梯，接着楼上便传来尖叫声，不久他又匆忙下楼像个疯子般冲出门去，事情经过就是这样。”
汤米站起身来。
“霍尼科特太太，我们应该马上上楼，恐怕——”
“怕什么？”
“恐怕您家没有刚漆过红漆还未干的东西吧？”
霍尼科特瞪大眼睛盯着他。
“当然没有。”
“这正是我担心的，”汤米严肃地说，“请允许我们马上去您妹妹的房间。”
沉默了片刻，霍尼科特太太在前面带路。这时，他们瞥见一直在门厅的艾伦迅速退到一个房间里。
上了楼，霍尼科特太太打开楼上第一扇门。汤米和塔彭丝紧随她进入房间。
突然她倒吸了一口气，踉跄后退。
一个一身黑衣、围着貂皮的身体一动不动，四肢摊开倒在沙发上。脸上没有受伤，她安详得像一个无忧无虑的、美丽的、熟睡的孩子。伤口在头部一侧，显然是被什么钝器重击，击碎了颅骨。血慢慢地滴到地板上，但伤口早已不流血了……汤米检查了这具平卧的躯体，脸色变得惨白。
“那么，”他终于说，“她终究不是被掐死的。”
“您什么意思？谁干的？”霍尼科特太太哭喊道，“她死了吗？”
“啊，是的，霍尼科特太太，她死了，被人杀了。问题是——谁杀的？真是个令人费解的问题。奇怪的是——尽管他扬言要亲手杀了她，但我并不认为这个家伙真干得出来。”
他停顿了一下，然后果断地转过身面对塔彭丝：
“你能出去找到那个警察，或者找个地方打电话报警吗？”
塔彭丝点点头。她也脸色惨白。汤米搀着霍尼科特太太再次下楼。
“我不想出什么差错，”他说，“您知道您妹妹进来的确切时间吗？”
“是的，我知道，”霍尼科特太太说，“因为我刚刚把钟表调快了五分钟，每天晚上我都这么做，这个钟一天慢五分钟。我的手表上当时正是六点零八分，手表不快不慢，十分准确。”
汤米点点头。这和警察讲的完全吻合。他说曾看到围着白貂皮的女人进入了这个大门，可能过了三分钟后汤米和塔彭丝到了这儿。汤米当时瞥了一眼自己的手表，并注意到比他们在便签上约定的时间晚了一分钟。
这时恰好可能那个凶手正在楼上房间里等吉尔达•格兰。但是如果这个推论成立，他一定还藏在这所房子里。因为除了詹姆斯•赖利，没人离开过这所房子。
他跑上楼，迅速地挨个儿搜索了一遍这所房子的每个房间，但是连个人影也没有见到。
然后他决定和艾伦谈一谈。在他告诉她吉尔达被杀的消息后，她先是恸哭起来，然后祈祷，请求上帝饶恕那死去的灵魂。等她终于做完这一切，他便问了她几个问题。
那个下午还有什么别的人来这所房子找格兰小姐吗？根本没有。那个晚上她自己曾经上过楼吗？是的，她像往常一样六点上楼去拉下窗帘——也可能六点过几分。但可以肯定一点，她是在这个疯狂的家伙来敲门之前上的楼。她跑下楼去开门——给那个黑心的凶手。
汤米任由她说。但他还是对赖利抱有一些莫名其妙的同情，不愿相信他做过这样的事情。但是再没有别人会杀吉尔达•格兰。房子里剩下的也只有霍尼科特和艾伦两个人。
他听到门厅里传来声响，出去一看，是塔彭丝和那个警察在外面拍打大门。后者已经拿出了一个记事簿和一支钝了的铅笔，他偷偷地舔了舔那支铅笔。上楼后，他表情冷漠地审视着受害者，发表的唯一观点是：他要是动了现场什么东西，探长肯定会责骂他。他听着霍尼科特太太歇斯底里的爆发和语无伦次的解释，偶尔在本子上写下些什么，显得平静而镇定。
在出去给总部打电话之前，汤米终于在外面台阶上和他单独待了一两分钟。
“记得你说过，你看到死者在这儿拐进大门，对吧？你确定她是自己一个人？”
“哦，她单独一人没错，没人和她在一起。”
“从那时起到你遇见我们这段时间之内，没有人从大门出来？”
“一个人也没有。”
“如是有人从前门出来，你一定看得见吧？”
“当然。没有人，除了那个疯狂的家伙。”
这位庄严的执法者煞有介事地迈步下了台阶，在白色的门柱前停下，这门柱上有一个刺眼的红色手印。
“这凶手一定不是个行家里手，”他嘲弄地说，“居然留下这样的线索。”
然后他大摇大摆地沿街走去。
Ten THE CRACKLER（2）
II
Making the acquaintance of the Laidlaws proved an easy affair. Tommyand Tuppence, young, well-dressed, eager for life, and with apparentlymoney to burn, were soon made free of that particular coterie in whichthe Laidlaws had their being.
Major Laidlaw was a tall, fair man, typically English in appearance, witha hearty sportsmanlike manner, slightly belied by the hard lines round hiseyes and the occasional quick sideways glance that assorted oddly with hissupposed character.
He was a very dexterous card player, and Tommy noticed that when thestakes were high he seldom rose from the table a loser.
Marguerite Laidlaw was quite a different proposition. She was a charm-ing creature, with the slenderness of a wood nymph and the face of aGreuze picture. Her dainty broken English was fascinating, and Tommyfelt that it was no wonder most men were her slaves. She seemed to take agreat fancy to Tommy from the first, and playing his part, he allowed him-self to be swept into her train.
“My Tommee,” she would say; “but positively I cannot go without myTommee. His ’air, eet ees the colour of the sunset, ees eet not?”
Her father was a more sinister figure. Very correct, very upright, withhis little black beard and his watchful eyes.
Tuppence was the first to report progress. She came to Tommy with tenone pound notes.
“Have a look at these. They’re wrong ’uns, aren’t they?”
Tommy examined them and confirmed Tuppence’s diagnosis.
“Where did you get them from?”
“That boy, Jimmy Faulkener. Marguerite Laidlaw gave them to him toput on a horse for her. I said I wanted small notes and gave him a tennerin exchange.”
“All new and crisp,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “They can’t have passedthrough many hands. I suppose young Faulkener is all right?”
“Jimmy? Oh, he’s a dear. He and I are becoming great friends.”
“So I have noticed,” said Tommy coldly. “Do you really think it is neces-sary?”
“Oh, it isn’t business,” said Tuppence cheerfully. “It’s pleasure. He’s sucha nice boy. I’m glad to get him out of that woman’s clutches. You’ve noidea of the amount of money she’s cost him.”
“It looks to me as though he were getting rather a pash for you, Tup-pence.”
“I’ve thought the same myself sometimes. It’s nice to know one’s stillyoung and attractive, isn’t it?”
“Your moral tone, Tuppence, is deplorably low. You look at these thingsfrom the wrong point of view.”
“I haven’t enjoyed myself so much for years,” declared Tuppenceshamelessly. “And anyway, what about you? Do I ever see you nowadays?
Aren’t you always living in Marguerite Laidlaw’s pocket?”
“Business,” said Tommy crisply.
“But she is attractive, isn’t she?”
“Not my type,” said Tommy. “I don’t admire her.”
“Liar,” laughed Tuppence. “But I always did think I’d rather marry a liarthan a fool.”
“I suppose,” said Tommy, “that there’s no absolute necessity for a hus-band to be either?”
But Tuppence merely threw him a pitying glance and withdrew.
Amongst Mrs. Laidlaw’s train of admirers was a simple but extremelywealthy gentleman of the name of Hank Ryder.
Mr. Ryder came from Alabama, and from the first he was disposed tomake a friend and confidant of Tommy.
“That’s a wonderful woman, sir,” said Mr. Ryder following the lovelyMarguerite with reverential eyes. “Plumb full of civilisation. Can’t beat lagaie France, can you? When I’m near her, I feel as though I was one of theAlmighty’s earliest experiments. I guess he’d got to get his hand in beforehe attempted anything so lovely as that perfectly lovely woman.”
Tommy agreeing politely with these sentiments, Mr. Ryder unburdenedhimself still further.
“Seems kind of a shame a lovely creature like that should have moneyworries.”
“Has she?” asked Tommy.
“You betcha life she has. Queer fish, Laidlaw. She’s skeered of him. Toldme so. Daren’t tell him about her little bills.”
“Are they little bills?” asked Tommy.
“Well—when I say little! After all, a woman’s got to wear clothes, andthe less there are of them the more they cost, the way I figure it out. And apretty woman like that doesn’t want to go about in last season’s goods.
Cards too, the poor little thing’s been mighty unlucky at cards. Why, shelost fifty to me last night.”
“She won two hundred from Jimmy Faulkener the night before,” saidTommy drily.
“Did she indeed? That relieves my mind some. By the way, there seemsto be a lot of dud notes floating around in your country just now. I paid ina bunch at my bank this morning, and twenty-five of them were down-and-outers, so the polite gentleman behind the counter informed me.”
“That’s rather a large proportion. Were they new looking?”
“New and crisp as they make ’em. Why, they were the ones Mrs. Laid-law paid over to me, I reckon. Wonder where she got ’em from. One ofthese toughs on the racecourse as likely as not.”
“Yes,” said Tommy. “Very likely.”
“You know, Mr. Beresford, I’m new to this sort of high life. All theseswell dames and the rest of the outfit. Only made my pile a short whileback. Came right over to Yurrop to see life.”
Tommy nodded. He made a mental note to the effect that with the aid ofMarguerite Laidlaw Mr. Ryder would probably see a good deal of life andthat the price charged would be heavy.
Meantime, for the second time, he had evidence that the forged noteswere being distributed pretty near at hand, and that in all probabilityMarguerite Laidlaw had a hand in their distribution.
On the following night he himself was given a proof.
It was at that small select meeting place mentioned by Inspector Mar-riot. There was dancing there, but the real attraction of the place lay be-hind a pair of imposing folding doors. There were two rooms there withgreen baize-covered tables, where vast sums changed hands nightly.
Marguerite Laidlaw, rising at last to go, thrust a quantity of small notesinto Tommy’s hands.
“They are so bulkee, Tommee—you will change them, yes? A beeg note.
See my so sweet leetle bag, it bulges him to distraction.”
Tommy brought her the hundred pound note she asked for. Then in aquiet corner he examined the notes she had given him. At least a quarterof them were counterfeit.
But where did she get her supplies from? To that he had as yet no an-swer. By means of Albert’s cooperation, he was almost sure that Laidlawwas not the man. His movements had been watched closely and had yiel-ded no result.
Tommy suspected her father, the saturnine M. Heroulade. He went toand fro to France fairly often. What could be simpler than to bring thenotes across with him? A false bottom to the trunk—something of thatkind.
Tommy strolled slowly out of the Club, absorbed in these thoughts, butwas suddenly recalled to immediate necessities. Outside in the street wasMr. Hank P. Ryder, and it was clear at once that Mr. Ryder was not strictlysober. At the moment he was trying to hang his hat on the radiator of acar, and missing it by some inches every time.
“This goddarned hatshtand, this goddarned hatshtand,” said Mr. Rydertearfully. “Not like that in the Shtates. Man can hang up his hat everynight—every night, sir. You’re wearing two hatshs. Never sheen a manwearing two hatshs before. Must be effect—climate.”
“Perhaps I’ve got two heads,” said Tommy gravely.
“Sho you have,” said Mr. Ryder. “Thatsh odd. Thatsh remarkable fac.”
Letsh have a cocktail. Prohibition—probishun thatsh whatsh done me in. Iguess I’m drunk—constootionally drunk. Cocktailsh—mixed ’em—Angel’sKiss—that’s Marguerite—lovely creature, fon o’ me too. Horshes Neck, twoMartinis—three Road to Ruinsh—no, roadsh to roon—mixed ’em all—in abeer tankard. Bet me I wouldn’t—I shaid—to hell, I shaid—”
Tommy interrupted.
“That’s all right,” he said soothingly. “Now what about getting home?”
“No home to go to,” said Mr. Ryder sadly, and wept.
“What hotel are you staying at?” asked Tommy.
“Can’t go home,” said Mr. Ryder. “Treasure hunt. Swell thing to do. Shedid it. Whitechapel—white heartsh, white headsn shorrow to the grave—”
But Mr. Ryder became suddenly dignified. He drew himself erect and at-tained a sudden miraculous command over his speech.
“Young man, I’m telling you. Margee took me. In her car. Treasure hunt-ing. English aristocrashy all do it. Under the cobblestones. Five hundredpoundsh. Solemn thought, ’tis solemn thought. I’m telling you, young man.
You’ve been kind to me. I’ve got your welfare at heart, sir, at heart. WeAmericans—”
Tommy interrupted him this time with even less ceremony.
“What’s that you say? Mrs. Laidlaw took you in a car?”
The American nodded with a kind of owlish solemnity.
“To Whitechapel?” Again that owlish nod.
“And you found five hundred pounds there?”
Mr. Ryder struggled for words.
“S-she did,” he corrected his questioner. “Left me outside. Outside thedoor. Always left outside. It’s kinder sad. Outside—always outside.”
“Would you know your way there?”
“I guess so. Hank Ryder doesn’t lose his bearings—”
Tommy hauled him along unceremoniously. He found his own carwhere it was waiting, and presently they were bowling eastward. The coolair revived Mr. Ryder. After slumping against Tommy’s shoulder in a kindof stupor, he awoke clearheaded and refreshed.
“Say, boy, where are we?” he demanded.
“Whitechapel,” said Tommy crisply. “Is this where you came with Mrs.
Laidlaw tonight?”
“It looks kinder familiar,” admitted Mr. Ryder, looking round. “Seems tome we turned off to the left somewhere down here. That’s it—that streetthere.”
Tommy turned off obediently. Mr. Ryder issued directions.
“That’s it. Sure. And round to the right. Say, aren’t the smells awful. Yes,past that pub at the corner—sharp round, and stop at the mouth of thatlittle alley. But what’s the big idea? Hand it to me. Some of the oof left be-hind? Are we going to put one over on them?”
“That’s exactly it,” said Tommy. “We’re going to put one over on them.
Rather a joke, isn’t it?”
“I’ll tell the world,” assented Mr. Ryder. “Though I’m just a mite hazedabout it all,” he ended wistfully.
Tommy got out and assisted Mr. Ryder to alight also. They advanced intothe alleyway. On the left were the backs of a row of dilapidated houses,most of which had doors opening into the alley. Mr. Ryder came to a stopbefore one of these doors.
“In here she went,” he declared. “It was this door—I’m plumb certain ofit.”
“They all look very alike,” said Tommy. “Reminds me of the story of thesoldier and the Princess. You remember, they made a cross on the door toshow which one it was. Shall we do the same?”
Laughing, he drew a piece of white chalk from his pocket and made arough cross low down on the door. Then he looked up at various dimshapes that prowled high on the walls of the alley, one of which was utter-ing a blood-curdling yawl.
“Lots of cats about,” he remarked cheerfully.
“What is the procedure?” asked Mr. Ryder. “Do we step inside?”
“Adopting due precautions, we do,” said Tommy.
He glanced up and down the alley way, then softly tried the door. It yiel-ded. He pushed it open and peered into a dim yard.
Noiselessly he passed through, Mr. Ryder on his heels.
“Gee,” said the latter, “there’s someone coming down the alley.”
He slipped outside again. Tommy stood still for a minute, then hearingnothing went on. He took a torch from his pocket and switched on thelight for a brief second. That momentary flash enabled him to see his wayahead. He pushed forward and tried the closed door ahead of him. Thattoo gave, and very softly he pushed it open and went in.
After standing still a second and listening, he again switched on thetorch, and at that flash, as though at a given signal, the place seemed torise round him. Two men were in front of him, two men were behind him.
They closed in on him and bore him down.
“Lights,” growled a voice.
An incandescent gas burner was lit. By its light Tommy saw a circle ofunpleasing faces. His eyes wandered gently round the room and notedsome of the objects in it.
“Ah!” he said pleasantly. “The headquarters of the counterfeiting in-dustry, if I am not mistaken.”
“Shut your jaw,” growled one of the men.
The door opened and shut behind Tommy, and a genial and well-knownvoice spoke.
“Got him, boys. That’s right. Now, Mr. Busy, let me tell you you’re upagainst it.”
“That dear old word,” said Tommy. “How it thrills me. Yes. I am the Mys-tery Man of Scotland Yard. Why, it’s Mr. Hank Ryder. This is a surprise.”
“I guess you mean that too. I’ve been laughing fit to bust all this evening—leading you here like a little child. And you so pleased with your clever-ness. Why, sonny, I was on to you from the start. You weren’t in with thatcrowd for your health. I let you play about for a while, and when you gotreal suspicious of the lovely Marguerite, I said to myself: ‘Now’s the timeto lead him to it.’ I guess your friends won’t be hearing of you for sometime.”
“Going to do me in? That’s the correct expression, I believe. You havegot it in for me.”
“You’ve got a nerve all right. No, we shan’t attempt violence. Just keepyou under restraint, so to speak.”
“I’m afraid you’re backing the wrong horse,” said Tommy. “I’ve no in-tention of being ‘kept under restraint,’ as you call it.”
Mr. Ryder smiled genially. From outside a cat uttered a melancholy cryto the moon.
“Banking on that cross you put on the door, eh, sonny?” said Mr. Ryder.
“I shouldn’t if I were you. Because I know that story you mentioned.
Heard it when I was a little boy. I stepped back into the alleyway to enactthe part of the dog with eyes as big as cartwheels. If you were in that alleynow, you would observe that every door in the alley is marked with anidentical cross.”
Tommy dropped his head despondently.
“Thought you were mighty clever, didn’t you?” said Ryder.
As the words left his lips a sharp rapping sounded on the door.
“What’s that?” he cried, starting.
At the same time an assault began on the front of the house. The door atthe back was a flimsy affair. The lock gave almost immediately and In-spector Marriot showed in the doorway.
“Well done, Marriot,” said Tommy. “You were quite right as to the dis-trict. I’d like you to make the acquaintance of Mr. Hank Ryder who knowsall the best fairy tales.
“You see, Mr. Ryder,” he added gently, “I’ve had my suspicions of you.
Albert (that important-looking boy with the big ears is Albert) had ordersto follow on his motorcycle if you and I went off joyriding at any time. Andwhilst I was ostentatiously marking a chalk cross on the door to engageyour attention, I also emptied a little bottle of valerian on the ground.
Nasty smell, but cats love it. All the cats in the neighbourhood were as-sembled outside to mark the right house when Albert and the police ar-rived.”
He looked at the dumbfounded Mr. Ryder with a smile, then rose to hisfeet.
“I said I would get you Crackler, and I have got you,” he observed.
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Mr. Ryder. “What do youmean—Crackler?”
“You will find it in the glossary of the next criminal dictionary,” saidTommy. “Etymology doubtful.”
He looked round him with a happy smile.
“And all done without a nose,” he murmured brightly. “Good night, Mar-riot. I must go now to where the happy ending of the story awaits me. Noreward like the love of a good woman—and the love of a good womanawaits me at home — that is, I hope it does, but one never knowsnowadays. This has been a very dangerous job, Marriot. Do you know Cap-tain Jimmy Faulkener? His dancing is simply too marvellous, and as forhis taste in cocktails—! Yes, Marriot, it has been a very dangerous job.”
第九章 迷雾魅影（3）
3凶杀案发生后的第二天。汤米和塔彭丝仍住在格兰大酒店，但是汤米考虑还是脱掉他那套神父的行头更明智。
詹姆斯•赖利已经被逮捕监禁。他的律师，马维尔先生，刚刚和汤米就这个案子的有关情况进行了一场谈话。
“我根本不会相信是詹姆斯•赖利干的，”他简洁地说，“他一直都说话极端，但是仅此而已，他干不出极端的事情来。”
汤米点点头。
“如果你花大精力去夸夸其谈，就不会有太多精力付诸行动。但我知道，我是指控他杀人的主要证人。他恰在凶杀案发生前和我进行的一场谈话中极力诅咒她，这会是对他不利的证据。可是尽管这样，我喜欢这个人，如果有别的任何人可以怀疑，我都会相信他是无罪的。那么他自己对这事是怎么说的？”
律师噘起了嘴唇。
“他说他发现她躺在那儿死了。但是这当然不可能。他撒了谎，这是他事先考虑好的谎言。”
“因为，如果他恰好说的是真的，那就意味着那个饶舌的霍尼科特太太实施了犯罪——而这太难以置信了。是的，一定是他干的。”
“女仆说听到了她的尖叫声，别忘了。”
“女仆——是的——”
汤米沉默了片刻，然后他若有所思地说道：
“我们多容易受骗啊，真的。我们相信证据，似乎它就是真理。但实际上它是什么？只是感觉给我们大脑留下的印象罢了——如果这些印象错了呢？”
律师耸耸肩。
“啊！我们都明白确实有些证人不可靠，随着时间的推移，证人会回想起越来越多的情况，这并不是存心欺骗。”
“我指的并不只是那些证人。我是指我们所有人——我们说事情不能只看表面，但是从没意识到我们一直是这样做的。比如，你和我，肯定说过‘邮件来了’，其实真正指的是我们听到两声敲门声和信箱的格格声。十次有九次我们是对的，确实有邮件，但是也恰恰可能第十次，只是哪个小淘气包和我们开玩笑。明白我的意思了吗？”
“啊——是的，”马维尔先生慢吞吞地说，“但是我不明白你的用意所在？”
“不明白？当然我自己也不确定。但是我的头脑开始慢慢清晰了。像一根手杖，塔彭丝。你记得吗？一头指向一端——但另一头指向相反的一端。要确定正确的方向应该以棍端的正确指向为根据。门可以打开——但是也可以关闭。人们上了楼，但他们也会下楼。
箱子被关了，必然也会被打开。”
“你到底在说什么？”塔彭丝问。
“这真容易，容易得可笑，真的，”汤米说，“但是我也刚刚想明白。你怎么知道一个人进了这所房子，因为你听到了门打开和关上的声音。如果期待着某人进来，你就会相信那声音就是他们进来了，但是也极有可能是什么人出去了。”
“但是格兰小姐没有出去啊？”
“没有，我知道她没有出去。但是别的人出去了——那个凶手。”
“但是她怎么进来的，嗯？”
“她进来时，霍尼科特太太正和艾伦在厨房说话。她们没有听到她进来。霍尼科特太太回到客厅，估摸着她妹妹是否该回来了，开始拨正钟表，然后，她以为自己听到了她妹妹进来的声音，并且上了楼。”
“哦，那接下来又该如何解释？那上楼的脚步声？”
“那是艾伦，上楼去拉窗帘。你记得，霍尼科特太太说她妹妹在上楼前曾停了一会儿。
那一会儿恰是艾伦从厨房出来进入门厅需要的时间。因而，她恰好错过了，没看到那个凶手。”
“但是，汤米，”塔彭丝叫道，“那她发出的惨叫声呢？”
“那是詹姆斯•赖利的声音。你没注意到他的声音有多尖利吗？在极度紧张的时候，男人的尖叫声恰像女人发出的。”
“但是那个凶手呢？我们一定见过他吧？”
“我们确实见过他。我们甚至还站在那儿和他谈话来着。你还记得那个警察突然出现的情景吗？这是因为他走出大门，恰好路上的大雾逐渐消散。那场景吓了我们一跳，还记得吗？总而言之，尽管我们从未怀疑警察会做出这种事，但警察也是人啊。他们也有爱恨，他们也要结婚……”
“我猜想吉尔达•格兰刚刚在大门外意外地遇到她丈夫，然后带他进了房子，一起商量解决离婚的事情。他不像赖利那样说狠话来发泄，他眼中充满杀意——他有警棍在手，更方便……”
第十章 假钞悬案（2）
2事实证明，认识莱德劳夫妇是件容易的事。这时的汤米和塔彭丝，年纪轻轻，穿着入时，热情生活，似乎有大把的钱可供挥霍，很快他们就可以自由出入莱德劳夫妇营造的那个特殊的圈子。
梅杰•莱德劳是一个高个子男人，皮肤白皙，典型的英国绅士派头，健壮的运动员风度，但眼睛透出的强硬之气与这种气质稍稍不符，他不时地向两侧警惕地瞟上一两眼，这倒和他被认为的那类人的身份相符。
他是个精明的赌牌玩家，汤米注意到当对方赌注下得高时，他很少输牌。
玛格丽特•莱德劳则是个完全不同的小东西。她极为迷人，身材如林中女神那般窈窕，脸蛋娇艳好似格勒兹 [2] 油画上的美女，说一口磕巴却很优雅的英语。在汤米看来，大部分的男人都会拜倒在她的石榴裙下。她似乎从一开始就对汤米十分感兴趣，为了演好自己的角色，汤米也让自己加入了她的崇拜者队伍中。
“我的小汤米，”她经常撒娇说，“我肯定不能没有我的小汤米陪着。他的头发，就像日落前的晚霞，不是吗？”
她的父亲是个十分阴险狡猾的人，表面看上去却十分正直、诚实，蓄着小黑胡子，眼神警惕而敏锐。
塔彭丝首战告捷，她拿着十张一镑的纸币来找汤米。
“看看这些，都是假的，是吧？”
汤米仔细审查了这些纸币，证实塔彭丝的猜测是对的。
“你从哪儿弄到的？”
“那个男孩，杰米•福克纳，玛格丽特•莱德劳用这些钱让他替她给一匹马下注。我说我想要些零钱，给了他一张十镑纸币换的。”
“都是崭新的，能发出‘噼噼啪啪’的清脆响声，”汤米沉思地说，“这些还没有倒过多少人的手，我想年轻的福克纳还好吧？”
“你是说杰米？哦，他是个可爱的人。他和我快成形影不离的好朋友了。”
“我注意到了，”汤米冷冷地说，“你真的认为这有必要吗？”
“哦，这不是为了做生意，”塔彭丝高兴地说，“这是乐趣。他是个好小伙，我很高兴能让他摆脱那个女人的控制。你不知道他在她身上花了多少钱。”
“在我看来，他似乎越来越迷恋你啦，塔彭丝。”
“我自己有时也这样认为，知道自己还年轻有魅力感觉多好啊，是不是？”
“塔彭丝，你的道德品质低到尘埃里了，可悲啊。你现在看问题的角度是错的。”
“我好多年没这么开心过了，”塔彭丝毫不羞耻地说，“而且，你自己呢？这段时间你以为我没看到吗？你还不是总在玛格丽特的裙边转悠？”
“那是办公事。”汤米严厉地说。
“但是她很迷人，你承认吧？”
“她不是我的菜，”汤米说，“我不喜欢她。”
“骗子，”塔彭丝大笑起来，“但是我宁愿嫁给一个骗子也不愿嫁给一个傻子。”
“我认为，”汤米说，“一个丈夫不一定非得要两者必居其一吧？”
但是塔彭丝只给了他一个怜悯的眼神就走了。
在莱德劳太太那一火车的仰慕者中，有一个性格单纯却十分富有的绅士，他叫汉克•赖德。
赖德先生来自阿拉巴马，初次见面他就想和汤米交朋友，并且十分信任汤米。
“那是个可人儿，先生，”赖德先生说，一双眼睛仰慕地追随着可爱的玛格丽特，“浑身洋溢着文明的气息，谁能抵抗这样的法国美人，是吧？每当我接近她时，都不由自主地觉得自己是万能的上帝最早期的作品，我想他在创造这个完美的人儿之前，一定是先拿我们练手了。”
汤米礼貌地赞同这些观点，赖德先生进一步坦白自己的心事：
“这样可爱的一个姑娘竟然为钱烦恼，这简直是一种耻辱。”
“是吗？”汤米问道。
“千真万确。莱德劳真是个怪人，你不知道她的日子过得有多艰难。”
“她曾告诉我，她怕他怕得要命，不敢伸手向他要些小钱。”
“都是小钱吗？”汤米问。
“是的——我就是说小钱！毕竟，一个女人嘛，总是要讲究穿戴的，衣服越少，价钱越高，我清楚这一点。像她这样美丽的女人不会到处去买过时的东西。玩牌也如此。这个可怜的小东西可能打牌也十分不走运。不知怎么回事，昨天晚上她就输给我五十英镑。”
“但她前天晚上赢了吉米•福克纳两百英镑。”汤米冷淡地说。
“真的吗？这让我觉得好受些。另外，现在你们国家似乎假币泛滥。今天早晨我到银行存一笔钱，但其中百分之二十五一眼就被看出是假币，所以柜员礼貌地告知了我。”
“那可是一大笔钱，那些假币看起来很新吗？”
“崭新的，能发出脆响，像刚造出来一样。哦，这些钱是莱德劳太太付给我的，我认为。真搞不清楚她从哪儿弄来的，多半是从赛马场上哪个恶棍手中得来的吧。”
“是的，”汤米说，“极有可能。”
“您知道，伯瑞斯福德先生，对这种奢侈浮华的生活来说，我还是个新人。这些美女、华服、豪华娱乐设施，会让我两手空空地回去。我来欧州是长见识的。”
汤米点点头，只能在精神上安慰他。告诉他，在玛格丽特•莱德劳的帮助下，赖德先生肯定能大长见识，当然花费也会巨大。
同时，他也再次获得了证据，这些假币就在这附近被散发出来，极有可能玛格丽特•莱德劳就参与其中。
接下来的这个晚上，他自己就获得了直接证据。
在马里奥特探长提到的那个秘密的小赌场，举办了一场舞会，但这个地方真正吸引人的地方在两扇庄严的折叠门后。那后面是两个暗室，里面摆放着铺着绿色台面呢的桌子，每夜都有巨额的金钱被倒手。
玛格丽特•莱德劳，终于站起身来准备离开，她把一大把小面额钞票塞到汤米手中。
“这些太占地方了，汤米——你能换成大额钞票吗？看我这可爱的小包包，塞得鼓鼓的就不好看了。”
汤米按她的要求给了她一张百元钞票，然后在一个僻静的角落里，他仔细地检查她所给的这些零钱，啊，至少有四分之一是假币。
然而，又是谁提供给她这些假币呢？他还没有找到答案。根据阿尔伯特提供的情报，他差不多可以肯定，莱德劳绝不是他要找的人。他的行踪被严密监视，但并没有什么结果。
汤米怀疑玛格丽特的父亲——那位沉默寡言的赫劳尔德。他频繁往返于英法之间，来回捎带假币岂不相当容易？比如，通过行李箱的一个夹层——诸如此类的手段。
汤米慢慢踱出俱乐部，完全沉浸于这些思考之中，但是突然被眼前的当务之急唤醒了。汉克•P.赖德先生正在外面街上，显然他不是很清醒。当时他正想把帽子挂到一辆车的散热器上，但就是挂不上去，每次都差一点。
“这个该死的帽架，该死的帽架，”赖德先生眼泪汪汪地说，“这不像我们美国的，男人们每天晚上都能轻松挂上帽子——每天晚上，先生，您戴着两顶帽子。从没见过一个人戴两顶帽子。一定很管用——防寒。”
“可能我长了两颗脑袋。”汤米郑重其事地说。
“是的，”赖德先生说，“这真奇怪，十分奇怪。我们喝杯鸡尾酒吧，禁酒——不允许，不让我进去。我想我有点醉了——一直不停地喝。鸡尾酒……混合的……天使的吻……是玛格丽特……迷人的尤物，她也喜欢我。马脖子酒，两杯马提尼……三杯‘通往废墟的路’……不是，通往房间的路……把它们倒在一起……倒入一个啤酒罐。我打赌……我说……去死吧，我说——”
汤米打断他。
“好了，”他安慰他说，“现在，回家怎么样？”
“无家可归。”赖德先生悲伤地说，竟抽泣起来。
“你住在哪个旅馆？”汤米问。
“回不了家了，”赖德先生说，“刮尽了我的金钱，吞食一切。都是她干的。白教堂——白色心肝，白头悲死亡——”
但是赖德先生突然变得严肃起来，他挺直身体，说话也奇迹般地变流畅了。
“年轻人，我告诉你。玛吉带着我，在她的车里，寻宝。英国的贵族都干这个。在鹅卵石下面。五百镑。不可思议，这真不可思议。我告诉你，年轻人，你一直对我很好。我心里记得，先生，心里。我们美国人——”
汤米这次毫不客气地打断了他：
“你说什么？莱德劳太太用车载着你？”
这个美国人严肃地点点头。
“去白教堂？”还是严肃地点头。
“你在那儿发现了五百镑？”
赖德先生努力地说话：
“她……她发现的，”他纠正他的提问者，“让我到外面，门外，总是让我在外面，这真可悲。外面——总是外面。”
“你还记得到那儿的路吗？”
“我想我记得，汉克•赖德从不会迷失方向——”
汤米二话不说，伸出手拉着他就往前走。他发现自己的车还在原地，然后他们一路向东飞驰而去。凉爽的空气让赖德先生舒服了不少，他不省人事地瘫靠在汤米身边睡着了。
等他醒来，头脑清醒，精神奕奕。
“说，伙计，我们在哪儿？”他问道。
“白教堂，”汤米直截了当地说，“这儿是不是今晚你和莱德劳太太来过的地方？”
“看起来眼熟，”赖德承认，环顾了一下四周，“好像从这儿左拐去了什么地方。就是那儿——那条街。”
汤米按他的指引顺从地转了弯。
“是这儿，我确定。右转，哎，这味真难闻。是的，经过角落里那家酒馆——急转弯，停在那个小胡同口。但是你打的什么主意？告诉我。甩掉尾巴了？我们是要耍他们一下？”
“正是，”汤米说，“我们来耍耍他们。只是一个玩笑，你说呢？”
“行，我会将之告诉世界，”赖德先生赞同，“尽管在这件事中我只是个小角色。”他不满地结束演说。
汤米下了车，也扶赖德先生下了车。他们往前走进了胡同。胡同左边是一排荒废的房子的后墙，大部分房子都有一扇门通往胡同。赖德在其中一扇门前停下来。
“她是从这儿进去的，”他说，“就是这扇门——我十分肯定。”
“它们看起来都很像，”汤米说，“这倒让我想起了士兵和王后的故事，记得吗，他们在一扇门上画了一个十字做记号，我们要不要也这样做？”
他笑着从口袋里拿出一支白色粉笔，在门的下部画了一个大大的十字。然后，他抬头看着山墙高处晃动着的各种模糊的影子，这些影子还不时地发出几声凄厉的嚎叫。
“周围有许多猫。”他愉快地说。
“接下来怎么办？”赖德先生问，“我们进去吗？”
“事先采取点防范措施。”汤米说。
他上下打量着这个胡同，然后轻轻地尝试开门。门动了，他推开门，向里窥视，看到了一个昏暗的小院。
他无声无息地穿过小院，赖德先生紧跟着他。
“快，”赖德先生说，“有人进了胡同。”
他又溜了出去。汤米安静地站了一会儿，却再没有听见什么。他从口袋中掏出一个手电筒，迅速照了一下院里。借助这瞬间的亮光，他看清了前面的路。他快步向前走去，尝试打开前面紧闭的房门。这扇门竟然也动了，他轻轻推开门进去。
站着听了一会儿，他又打开手电筒。这束光，仿佛是一个事先约好的信号，这个地方似乎突然清晰地呈现在他面前。两个人在他前面，两个人在他后面。他们围上来，粗暴地把他按倒在地。
“亮灯。”一个声音咆哮道。
一盏晃眼的汽油灯点着了。借助光线，汤米看到一圈阴沉的面孔。他有礼貌地扫视着房间，注意到房屋中摆放着一些设备。
“啊哈，”他兴奋地说，“假钞制造老巢，如果我没猜错的话。”
“闭上你的臭嘴。”其中一个人咆哮道。
汤米身后的门打开又关上，一个友好而熟悉的声音响起。
“抓住他了，伙计们，干得好。现在，大忙人先生，让我来告诉你，你将面临什么。”
“老一套的说辞，”汤米说，“我好害怕啊。是的，我是苏格兰场的线人。哇，是汉克•赖德先生，这倒是个惊喜。”
“我知道您也会觉得惊喜。我一直忍着不笑，怕毁了这个晚上——像领孩子似的把你引到这儿来。而你却对自己的小聪明沾沾自喜。你知道吗，宝贝，我从一开始就注意到你了，你混入这伙人中可不是为了找乐子。但我还是让你玩了一阵，当你真正开始怀疑可爱的玛格丽特时，我对自己说‘是时候收网了。’我猜从现在开始，你的朋友得有一阵子听不到你的消息了。”
“收网？我相信这个表述正确，你已经把我收进来了。”
“你不用紧张。不，我们不会采用暴力，只是拘禁，可以这样说。”
“恐怕你这次又投错了马匹，下错了注，”汤米说，“我没打算被‘拘禁’，正如你所说的那样。”
赖德先生亲切地笑了。外面传来猫儿对着月亮发出的一声凄惨的叫声。
“指望你画在门上的十字，嗯？宝贝？”赖德先生说，“要是我，就别做这个梦了。因为我也听过你提到的那个故事。我还是个小男孩的时候就听说了。我刚回到胡同里，瞪大眼睛像条狗一样勘察了情况。如果你现在回到胡同里，就会发现那里的每扇门上都画着一模一样的十字。”
汤米沮丧地垂下脑袋。
“还自以为绝顶聪明，对吧？”赖德说。
话音刚落，只听得屋后门响起急促的砰砰声。
“怎么了？”他吓了一跳，大喊道。
与此同时，房子前面也响起了猛烈的撞击声。后面的门很不结实，门锁几乎一下就打开了，马里奥特探长出现在门口。
“干得漂亮，马里奥特，”汤米说，“你来得正是时候，看来你对这一带十分熟悉。我介绍您和汉克•赖德先生认识，他知道所有的最引人入胜的童话。”
“您知道，赖德先生，”他礼貌地补充道，“我早就怀疑你了，阿尔伯特，就是那个盛气凌人、长着一对大招风耳的男孩，他受命骑摩托车跟踪，只要我和你在任何时候出去兜风。我在门上夸张地画上一个十字去吸引你的注意力，同时在地上倒了一小瓶镇静剂。味道十分难闻，但是猫儿喜欢。当阿尔伯特和警察到达时，附近所有猫都聚集在这所房子外面，这无疑给这所房子打上了明显的标记。”
他微笑地看着目瞪口呆的赖德先生，然后站起身来。
“我说我会帮你抓到‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’，你看，我做到了。”他说。
“你他妈的到底在说什么？”赖德先生问，“你什么意思——噼噼啪啪的发声者？”
“你将会在下一期的犯罪词典条目中查到这个专业术语，”汤米说，“而其词源却无从考证。”
他愉快地微笑着，仔细看看他周围。
“没用一个暗探就完成了所有任务，”他愉快地喁喁细语，“晚安，马里奥特。我现在必须走了，这个故事愉快的结尾还等着我呢。有什么比一个好女人的爱更好的奖励呢——一个在家等我的好女人——是的，应该是的，但是现在有多少人能体会到呢。这是个十分危险的活儿，马里奥特。你认识吉米•福克纳上尉吗？他的舞跳得真是太好了，正如他对鸡尾酒的品位——是的，马里奥特，这真是个十分危险的活儿。”
[1]埃德加•华莱士（Edgar Wallace，1875—1932），英国犯罪小说作家，兼编剧、制片人、导演。其最著名的剧本就是无人不知的《金刚》。阿加莎•克里斯蒂曾说：“我从华莱士那里学了不少写侦探小说的窍门。”
[2]让•巴蒂斯特•格勒兹(Jean Baptiste Greuze，1725—1805)，法国画家，擅长作风俗画和肖像画。
Ten THE CRACKLER（1）
Ten THE CRACKLER

“Tuppence,” said Tommy. “We shall have to move into a much larger of-fice.”
“Nonsense,” said Tuppence. “You mustn’t get swollen-headed and thinkyou are a millionaire just because you solved two or three twopenny half-penny cases with the aid of the most amazing luck.”
“What some call luck, others call skill.”
“Of course, if you really think you are Sherlock Holmes, Thorndyke, Mc-Carty and the Brothers Okewood all rolled into one, there is no more to besaid. Personally I would much rather have luck on my side than all theskill in the world.”
“Perhaps there is something in that,” conceded Tommy. “All the same,Tuppence, we do need a larger office.”
“Why?”
“The classics,” said Tommy. “We need several hundreds of yards of ex-tra bookshelf if Edgar Wallace is to be properly represented.”
“We haven’t had an Edgar Wallace case yet.”
“I’m afraid we never shall,” said Tommy. “If you notice he never doesgive the amateur sleuth much of a chance. It is all stern Scotland Yardkind of stuff—the real thing and no base counterfeit.”
Albert, the office boy, appeared at the door.
“Inspector Marriot to see you,” he announced.
“The mystery man of Scotland Yard,” murmured Tommy.
“The busiest of the Busies,” said Tuppence. “Or is it ‘Noses?’ I always getmixed between Busies and Noses.”
The Inspector advanced upon them with a beaming smile of welcome.
“Well, and how are things?” he asked breezily. “None the worse for ourlittle adventure the other day?”
“Oh, rather not,” said Tuppence. “Too, too marvellous, wasn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t know that I would describe it exactly that way myself,”
said Marriot cautiously.
“What has brought you here today, Marriot?” asked Tommy. “Not justsolicitude for our nervous systems, is it?”
“No,” said the Inspector. “It is work for the brilliant Mr. Blunt.”
“Ha!” said Tommy. “Let me put my brilliant expression on.”
“I have come to make you a proposition, Mr. Beresford. What would yousay to rounding up a really big gang?”
“Is there such a thing?” asked Tommy.
“What do you mean, is there such a thing?”
“I always thought that gangs were confined to fiction — like mastercrooks and super criminals.”
“The master crook isn’t very common,” agreed the Inspector. “But Lordbless you, sir, there’s any amount of gangs knocking about.”
“I don’t know that I should be at my best dealing with a gang,” saidTommy. “The amateur crime, the crime of quiet family life—that is whereI flatter myself that I shine. Drama of strong domestic interest. That’s thething—with Tuppence at hand to supply all those little feminine detailswhich are so important, and so apt to be ignored by the denser male.”
His eloquence was arrested abruptly as Tuppence threw a cushion athim and requested him not to talk nonsense.
“Will have your little bit of fun, won’t you, sir?” said Inspector Marriot,smiling paternally at them both. “If you’ll not take offence at my saying so,it’s a pleasure to see two young people enjoying life as much as you twodo.”
“Do we enjoy life?” said Tuppence, opening her eyes very wide. “I sup-pose we do. I’ve never thought about it before.”
“To return to that gang you were talking about,” said Tommy. “In spiteof my extensive private practice—duchesses, millionaires, and all the bestcharwomen—I might, perhaps, condescend to look into the matter for you.
I don’t like to see Scotland Yard at fault. You’ll have the Daily Mail afteryou before you know where you are.”
“As I said before, you must have your bit of fun. Well, it’s like this.”
Again he hitched his chair forward. “There’s any amount of forged notesgoing about just now—hundreds of ’em! The amount of counterfeit Treas-ury notes in circulation would surprise you. Most artistic bit of work it is.
Here’s one of ’em.”
He took a one pound note from his pocket and handed it to Tommy.
“Looks all right, doesn’t it?”
Tommy examined the note with great interest.
“By Jove, I’d never spot there was anything wrong with that.”
“No more would most people. Now here’s a genuine one. I’ll show youthe differences—very slight they are, but you’ll soon learn to tell themapart. Take this magnifying glass.”
At the end of five minutes’ coaching both Tommy and Tuppence werefairly expert.
“What do you want us to do, Inspector Marriot?” asked Tuppence. “Justkeep our eyes open for these things?”
“A great deal more than that, Mrs. Beresford. I’m pinning my faith onyou to get to the bottom of the matter. You see, we’ve discovered that thenotes are being circulated from the West End. Somebody pretty high up inthe social scale is doing the distributing. They’re passing them the otherside of the Channel as well. Now there’s a certain person who is interest-ing us very much. A Major Laidlaw—perhaps you’ve heard the name?”
“I think I have,” said Tommy. “Connected with racing, isn’t that it?”
“Yes. Major Laidlaw is pretty well-known in connection with the Turf.
There’s nothing actually against him, but there’s a general impression thathe’s been a bit too smart over one or two rather shady transactions. Menin the know look queer when he’s mentioned. Nobody knows much of hispast or where he came from. He’s got a very attractive French wife who’sseen about everywhere with a train of admirers. They must spend a lot ofmoney, the Laidlaws, and I’d like to know where it comes from.”
“Possibly from the train of admirers,” suggested Tommy.
“That’s the general idea. But I’m not so sure. It may be coincidence, buta lot of notes have been forthcoming from a certain very smart littlegambling club which is much frequented by the Laidlaws and their set.
This racing, gambling set get rid of a lot of loose money in notes. Therecouldn’t be a better way of getting it into circulation.”
“And where do we come in?”
“This way. Young St. Vincent and his wife are friends of yours, I under-stand? They’re pretty thick with the Laidlaw set—though not as thick asthey were. Through them it will be easy for you to get a footing in thesame set in a way that none of our people could attempt. There’s no likeli-hood of their spotting you. You’ll have an ideal opportunity.”
“What have we got to find out exactly?”
“Where they get the stuff from, if they are passing it.”
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “Major Laidlaw goes out with an empty suit-case. When he returns it is crammed to the bursting point with Treasurynotes. How is it done? I sleuth him and find out. Is that the idea?”
“More or less. But don’t neglect the lady, and her father, M. Heroulade.
Remember the notes are being passed on both sides of the Channel.”
“My dear Marriot,” exclaimed Tommy reproachfully, “Blunt’s BrilliantDetectives do not know the meaning of the word neglect.”
The Inspector rose.
“Well, good luck to you,” he said, and departed.
“Slush,” said Tuppence enthusiastically.
“Eh?” said Tommy, perplexed.
“Counterfeit money,” explained Tuppence. “It is always called slush. Iknow I’m right. Oh, Tommy, we have got an Edgar Wallace case. At last weare Busies.”
“We are,” said Tommy. “And we are out to get the Crackler, and we willget him good.”
“Did you say the Cackler or the Crackler?”
“The Crackler.”
“Oh, what is a Crackler?”
“A new word that I have coined,” said Tommy. “Descriptive of one whopasses false notes into circulation. Banknotes crackle, therefore he iscalled a crackler. Nothing could be more simple.”
“That is rather a good idea,” said Tuppence. “It makes it seem more real.
I like the Rustler myself. Much more descriptive and sinister.”
“No,” said Tommy, “I said the Crackler first, and I stick to it.”
“I shall enjoy this case,” said Tuppence. “Lots of night clubs and cock-tails in it. I shall buy some eyelash-black tomorrow.”
“Your eyelashes are black already,” objected her husband.
“I could make them blacker,” said Tuppence. “And cherry lipstick wouldbe useful too. That ultrabright kind.”
“Tuppence,” said Tommy, “you’re a real rake at heart. What a goodthing it is that you are married to a sober steady middle-aged man like my-self.”
“You wait,” said Tuppence. “When you have been to the Python Club abit, you won’t be so sober yourself.”
Tommy produced from a cupboard various bottles, two glasses, and acocktail shaker.
“Let’s start now,” he said. “We are after you, Crackler, and we mean toget you.”
第十章 假钞悬案（1）
第十章 假钞悬案
1“塔彭丝，”汤米说，“我们恐怕要搬到一间大些的办公室。”
“胡说，”塔彭丝说，“你一定是昏了头，侥幸破了几个只能赚仨瓜两枣的案子，就自以为是百万富翁了。”
“怎么能说是侥幸呢，别人都说是技术。”
“当然，如果你真的认为自己已经集福尔摩斯、桑代克、麦卡蒂和奥克伍德兄弟于一身的话，那我也就没什么可说的了。但就我个人而言，我宁愿幸运时常光顾我，也不要世间所有所谓的侦破技术。”
“可能你的话有一定道理，”汤米让步说，“但是，塔彭丝，我们还是需要一间较大的办公室。”
“为什么？”
“为了经典的侦探小说啊，”汤米说，“我们还需要几百码长的书架，如果把埃德加•华莱士 [1] 的著作也摆到书柜里的话。”
“我们确实还没有办过一件类似埃德加•华莱士写过的那些案子呢。”
“恐怕我们永远都不会有机会了，”汤米说，“你没注意到他从不给业余侦探一点机会？
他的书中都是货真价实的苏格兰场那类严谨的事务——都是货真价实的案子，没有一点虚构的成分。”
这时，阿尔伯特，那个办公室助理，出现在门口。
“马里奥特探长要见您。”他大声说。
“苏格兰场的神秘人物。”汤米低声道。
“大忙人中的大忙人，”塔彭丝说，“或者说是‘探子’？我总是搞混‘大忙人’和‘探子’。”
探长向他们走来，一脸灿烂的微笑。
“喂，最近怎么样？”他活泼地问，“我们那天的小小探险还不错吧？”
“哦，相当不错，”塔彭丝说，“简直太刺激了，不是吗？”
“那就好，我自己都不知道该怎样描述那次行动呢。”马里奥特谨慎地说。
“什么风把您吹来了，马里奥特？”汤米问道，“只是惦记着我们的神经系统吗？不是吧？”
“不是，”探长说，“是来找卓越的布兰特先生谈公事的。”
“哈哈，”汤米说，“那我也要采用‘卓越’的措辞喽。”
“我专程赶来给你个差事，贝尔斯福德先生，让你去抓捕一个真正的犯罪团伙怎么样？”
“有这样的好事？”汤米难以置信。
“你什么意思，有这样的事？”
“我总以为犯罪团伙只存在于小说中——像江洋大盗，超级罪犯之类的。”
“江洋大盗确实不多见，”探长赞同道，“但是上帝保佑你，先生，现在有几个犯罪团伙出现了。”
“我不知道我是否擅长对付团伙犯罪，”汤米说，“对付业余罪犯，比如说平静生活中偶然出现的犯罪行为——我敢夸口我还是比较擅长的。对付有强烈家庭色彩的小把戏之类的事情，那是我的拿手技能——因为有塔彭丝随时补充那些女性眼中的小细节，而这些细节十分重要，容易被粗心的男人所忽略。”
他滔滔不绝的雄辩被塔彭丝唐突地打断了——她突然扔给他一个坐垫，让他不要说废话。
“你有没有一点兴趣，先生？”马里奥特探长说，慈祥地对他俩微笑，“如果你不因为我这样说而生气，我是否可以说，很高兴看到两个年轻人尽情地享受人生。”
“享受人生？”塔彭丝睁大眼睛说，“大概是吧，我以前还从未意识到。”
“回到你刚才谈到的犯罪团伙吧，”汤米说，“鉴于我丰富的个人经验——关于公爵夫人，百万富翁和最忠实的女佣——我，或许，可能，屈尊帮您办办这个案子。我不忍心看到苏格兰场陷入困境而袖手旁观。当你拿不定主意时，不妨问一问我们这些小人物。”
“正如我先前所说，你一定会有点兴趣。好，事情是这样的，”探长再次向前猛拉了一下椅子，“现在有些假钞在流通——成百上千的假钞！流通大量的假币肯定会引起混乱。这些假钞做得十分逼真，我这儿就有一张。”
他从口袋中抽出一张一镑的纸币递给汤米。
“看起来像真的一样，不是吗？”
汤米极有兴趣地研究着这张钞票。
“天啊，我一点也看不出这有什么破绽。”
“大部分的人看不出来。现在这儿有一张真的。我来告诉你二者的不同之处——很细微，但你很快就能学会鉴别真伪。拿着这个放大镜。”
五分钟的培训过后，汤米和塔彭丝最终都成了相当熟练的辨别假钞的专家。
“你想让我们做什么，马里奥特探长，”塔彭丝问，“只是留心这些东西吗？”
“要办的事可不止于此，贝尔斯福德太太，我可是寄希望于你们来做这个案子的卧底呢。你看，我们已经发现假钞是从伦敦西区流出的，由一些社会高层人士不断地散发开来。他们还把假钞带到了英吉利海峡的另一边。现在我们对某些人非常感兴趣，梅杰•莱德劳——可能你们听说过这个名字。”
“我想是的，”汤米说，“是和赌马有关的那位吗？”
“是的，梅杰•莱德劳在赛马场上相当有名。目前还没有对他不利的确凿证据，但是我们大概了解到他十分狡猾，背地里干过一两件阴暗的勾当。提到他，知道的人都会表情奇怪。没有人清楚地了解他的过去，也不知道他从哪儿来。他娶了一位十分迷人的法国妻子，她做派招摇，身后尾随着一大群仰慕者。他们——莱德劳夫妇挥金如土，我要搞清楚这些钱是从哪儿来的。”
“或许是那些仰慕者给的。”汤米提议说。
“一般人都这么认为。但是我不这样想。可能是个巧合，但是许多假钞从某个十分隐蔽的小赌场流出，而那儿正是莱德劳夫妇和他们那伙人经常出入的场所。这种赌马可以消耗大量的纸币。这是让假币进入市面流通的好方法。”
“那我们从哪儿入手？”
“从这儿。小圣文森特夫妇是你们的朋友，对吧？他们也和莱德劳夫妇交情不错——尽管不如过去那么深厚了。通过他们，你们能比较轻松地潜入这一团伙内部，而我们当中却没有人能做到这一点。而且他们丝毫也不会对你们起疑心，你们有得天独厚的条件。”
“我们究竟要查清什么？”
“查清他们是从哪儿得来的那些东西，如果他们只是负责散发假币的话。”
“的确如此，”汤米说，“梅杰•莱德劳总是带一个空皮箱出门，回来时箱子都快被塞得满满当当的国债券撑破了。他是怎么做到的？我跟踪他然后发现真相，您是要我们这样干吗？”
“差不多吧。但是别小看这位女士和他的父亲——赫鲁拉德先生。别忘了这些假币还同时在海峡的那一边不断出现。”
“我亲爱的马里奥特，”汤米责备似的喊道，“布兰特卓越事务所从来不知道什么叫‘小看’。”
探长站起身来。
“好吧，祝你们好运。”他说，然后起身走了。
“祸害。”塔彭丝激动地说。
“嗳？”汤米困惑地问。
“假币，”塔彭丝解释道，“总是被叫作祸害。你看，我就知道我是对的。哦，汤米，我们接到了一个埃德加•华莱士笔下的案子。我们终于正式做侦探了。”
“是的，”汤米说，“我们出去抓‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’，我们会给他好看。”
“你是说‘叽叽喳喳的发声者’还是‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’？”
“噼噼啪啪的发声者。”
“哦，那什么是噼噼啪啪的发声者？”
“我炮制的一个新词，”汤米说，“用来描述那些把假币带入市场流通的人。银行钞票发出‘噼噼啪啪’的声音，因此叫他们‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’。没有比这个词更形象的了。”
“这倒是个相当妙的说法，”塔彭丝说，“挺贴切的，我自己比较喜欢叫他们窃贼，这个词更形象、更邪恶。”
“不，”汤米说，“我先说的‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’，我坚持用这个词。”
“反正我喜欢这个案子，”塔彭丝不理他，“我们可以去各式各样的夜总会，喝许许多多的鸡尾酒，明天我得去买几款黑色睫毛膏。”
“你的眼睫毛本来就够黑的啊。”她的丈夫反对说。
“我可以让它们变得更黑一些，”塔彭丝说，“樱桃红的口红也很有用，特别是超亮款的。”
“塔彭丝，”汤米说，“看来，你内心深处真是放荡不羁啊，幸好你嫁给了我这样一位严肃稳重的中年人。”
“得了吧，”塔彭丝说，“等你去几趟‘蟒蛇’俱乐部，就不会一本正经了。”
汤米从一个橱柜里拿出几瓶酒，两个杯子和一个鸡尾酒调酒器。
“我们现在开始吧，”他说，“我们正在追踪你——‘噼噼啪啪的发声者’，我们发誓要将你们绳之以法。”
Eleven THE SUNNINGDALE MYSTERY（1）
Eleven THE SUNNINGDALE MYSTERY

“Do you know where we are going to lunch today, Tuppence?”
Mrs. Beresford considered the question.
“The Ritz?” she suggested hopefully.
“Think again.”
“That nice little place in Soho?”
“No.” Tommy’s tone was full of importance. “An ABC shop. This one, infact.”
He drew her deftly inside an establishment of the kind indicated, andsteered her to a corner marble-topped table.
“Excellent,” said Tommy with satisfaction, as he seated himself.
“Couldn’t be better.”
“Why has this craze for the simple life come upon you?” demanded Tup-pence.
“You see, Watson, but you do not observe. I wonder now whether one ofthese haughty damsels would condescend to notice us? Splendid, she driftsthis way. It is true that she appears to be thinking of something else, butdoubtless her subconscious mind is functioning busily with such mattersas ham and eggs and pots of tea. Chop and fried potatoes, please, miss, anda large coffee, a roll and butter, and a plate of tongue for the lady.”
The waitress repeated the order in a scornful tone, but Tuppence leantforward suddenly and interrupted her.
“No, not a chop and fried potatoes. This gentleman will have a cheese-cake and a glass of milk.”
“A cheesecake and a milk,” said the waitress with even deeper scorn, ifthat were possible. Still thinking of something else, she drifted awayagain.
“That was uncalled for,” said Tommy coldly.
“But I’m right, aren’t I? You are the Old Man in the Corner? Where’syour piece of string?”
Tommy drew a long twisted mesh of string from his pocket and pro-ceeded to tie a couple of knots in it.
“Complete to the smallest detail,” he murmured.
“You made a small mistake in ordering your meal, though.”
“Women are so literal-minded,” said Tommy. “If there’s one thing I hateit’s milk to drink, and cheesecakes are always so yellow and bilious-look-ing.”
“Be an artist,” said Tuppence. “Watch me attack my cold tongue. Jollygood stuff, cold tongue. Now then, I’m all ready to be Miss Polly Burton.
Tie a large knot and begin.”
“First of all,” said Tommy, “speaking in a strictly unofficial capacity, letme point out this. Business is not too brisk lately. If business does notcome to us, we must go to business. Apply our minds to one of the greatpublic mysteries of the moment. Which brings me to the point—the Sun-ningdale Mystery.”
“Ah!” said Tuppence, with deep interest. “The Sunningdale Mystery!”
Tommy drew a crumpled piece of newspaper from his pocket and laid iton the table.
“That is the latest portrait of Captain Sessle as it appeared in the DailyLeader.”
“Just so,” said Tuppence. “I wonder someone doesn’t sue these newspa-pers sometimes. You can see it’s a man and that’s all.”
“When I said the Sunningdale Mystery, I should have said the so-calledSunningdale Mystery,” went on Tommy rapidly.
“A mystery to the police perhaps, but not to an intelligent mind.”
“Tie another knot,” said Tuppence.
“I don’t know how much of the case you remember,” continued Tommyquietly.
“All of it,” said Tuppence, “but don’t let me cramp your style.”
“It was just over three weeks ago,” said Tommy, “that the gruesome dis-covery was made on the famous golf links. Two members of the club, whowere enjoying an early round, were horrified to find the body of a man ly-ing face downwards on the seventh tee. Even before they turned him overthey had guessed him to be Captain Sessle, a well-known figure on thelinks, and who always wore a golf coat of a peculiarly bright blue colour.
“Captain Sessle was often seen out on the links early in the morning,practising, and it was thought at first that he had been suddenly overcomeby some form of heart disease. But examination by a doctor revealed thesinister fact that he had been murdered, stabbed to the heart with a signi-ficant object, a woman’s hatpin. He was also found to have been dead atleast twelve hours.
“That put an entirely different complexion on the matter, and very soonsome interesting facts came to light. Practically the last person to see Cap-tain Sessle alive was his friend and partner, Mr. Hollaby of the PorcupineAssurance Co, and he told his story as follows:
“Sessle and he had played a round earlier in the day. After tea the othersuggested that they should play a few more holes before it got too dark tosee. Hollaby assented. Sessle seemed in good spirits, and was in excellentform. There is a public footpath that crosses the links, and just as theywere playing up to the sixth green, Hollaby noticed a woman comingalong it. She was very tall, and dressed in brown, but he did not observeher particularly, and Sessle, he thought, did not notice her at all.
“The footpath in question crossed in front of the seventh tee,” continuedTommy. “The woman had passed along this and was standing at thefarther side, as though waiting. Captain Sessle was the first to reach thetee, as Mr. Hollaby was replacing the pin in the hole. As the latter came to-wards the tee, he was astonished to see Sessle and the woman talking to-gether. As he came nearer, they both turned abruptly, Sessle calling overhis shoulder: ‘Shan’t be a minute.’
“The two of them walked off side by side, still deep in earnest conversa-tion. The footpath there leaves the course, and, passing between the twonarrow hedges of neighbouring gardens, comes out on the road to Windle-sham.
“Captain Sessle was as good as his word. He reappeared within a minuteor two, much to Hollaby’s satisfaction, as two other players were comingup behind them, and the light was failing rapidly. They drove off, and atonce Hollaby noticed that something had occurred to upset his compan-ion. Not only did he foozle his drive badly, but his face was worried andhis forehead creased in a big frown. He hardly answered his companion’sremarks, and his golf was atrocious. Evidently something had occurred toput him completely off his game.
“They played that hole and the eighth, and then Captain Sessle declaredabruptly that the light was too bad and that he was off home. Just at thatpoint there is another of those narrow ‘slips’ leading to the Windleshamroad, and Captain Sessle departed that way, which was a short cut to hishome, a small bungalow on the road in question. The other two playerscame up, a Major Barnard and Mr. Lecky, and to them Hollaby mentionedCaptain Sessle’s sudden change of manner. They also had seen him speak-ing to the woman in brown, but had not been near enough to see her face.
All three men wondered what she could have said to upset their friend tothat extent.
“They returned to the clubhouse together, and as far as was known atthe time, were the last people to see Captain Sessle alive. The day was aWednesday, and on Wednesday cheap tickets to London are issued. Theman and wife who ran Captain Sessle’s small bungalow were up in town,according to custom, and did not return until the late train. They enteredthe bungalow as usual, and supposed their master to be in his roomasleep. Mrs. Sessle, his wife, was away on a visit.
“The murder of the Captain was a nine days’ wonder. Nobody could sug-gest a motive for it. The identity of the tall woman in brown was eagerlydiscussed, but without result. The police were, as usual, blamed for theirsupineness—most unjustly, as time was to show. For a week later, a girlcalled Doris Evans was arrested and charged with the murder of CaptainAnthony Sessle.
“The police had had little to work upon. A strand of fair hair caught inthe dead man’s fingers and a few threads of flame-coloured wool caughton one of the buttons of his blue coat. Diligent inquiries at the railway sta-tion and elsewhere had elicited the following facts.
“A young girl dressed in a flame-coloured coat and skirt had arrived bytrain that evening about seven o’clock and had asked the way to CaptainSessle’s house. The same girl had reappeared again at the station, twohours later. Her hat was awry and her hair tousled, and she seemed in astate of great agitation. She inquired about the trains back to town, andwas continually looking over her shoulder as though afraid of something.
“Our police force is in many ways very wonderful. With this slenderevidence to go upon, they managed to track down the girl and identify heras one Doris Evans. She was charged with murder and cautioned that any-thing she might say would be used against her, but she nevertheless per-sisted in making a statement, and this statement she repeated again in de-tail, without any subsequent variation, at the subsequent proceedings.
“Her story was this. She was a typist by profession, and had madefriends one evening, in a cinema, with a well-dressed man, who declaredhe had taken a fancy to her. His name, he told her, was Anthony, and hesuggested that she should come down to his bungalow at Sunningdale. Shehad no idea then, or at any other time, that he had a wife. It was arrangedbetween them that she should come down on the following Wednesday—the day, you will remember, when the servants would be absent and hiswife away from home. In the end he told her his full name was AnthonySessle, and gave her the name of his house.
“She duly arrived at the bungalow on the evening in question, and wasgreeted by Sessle, who had just come in from the links. Though he pro-fessed himself delighted to see her, the girl declared that from the first hismanner was strange and different. A half-acknowledged fear sprang up inher, and she wished fervently that she had not come.
“After a simple meal, which was all ready and prepared, Sessle sugges-ted going out for a stroll. The girl consenting, he took her out of the house,down the road, and along the ‘slip’ on to the golf course. And then sud-denly, just as they were crossing the seventh tee, he seemed to go com-pletely mad. Drawing a revolver from his pocket, he brandished it in theair, declaring that he had come to the end of his tether.
“ ‘Everything must go! I’m ruined—done for. And you shall go with me. Ishall shoot you first—then myself. They will find our bodies here in themorning side by side—together in death.’
“And so on—a lot more. He had hold of Doris Evans by the arm, and she,realising she had to do with a madman, made frantic efforts to free her-self, or failing that to get the revolver away from him. They struggled to-gether, and in that struggle he must have torn out a piece of her hair andgot the wool of her coat entangled on a button.
“Finally, with a desperate effort, she freed herself, and ran for her lifeacross the golf links, expecting every minute to be shot down with a re-volver bullet. She fell twice, tripping over the heather, but eventually re-gained the road to the station and realised that she was not being pursued.
“That is the story that Doris Evans tells—and from which she has nevervaried. She strenuously denies that she ever struck at him with a hatpin inself- defence — a natural enough thing to do under the circumstances,though—and one which may well be the truth. In support of her story, arevolver has been found in the furze bushes near where the body was ly-ing. It had not been fired.
“Doris Evans has been sent for trial, but the mystery still remains a mys-tery. If her story is to be believed, who was it who stabbed Captain Sessle?
The other woman, the tall woman in brown, whose appearance so upsethim? So far no one has explained her connection with the case. She ap-pears out of space suddenly on the footpath across the links, she disap-pears along the slip, and no one ever hears of her again. Who was she? Alocal resident? A visitor from London? If so, did she come by car or bytrain? There is nothing remarkable about her except her height; no oneseems to be able to describe her appearance. She could not have beenDoris Evans, for Doris Evans is small and fair, and moreover was only justthen arriving at the station.”
“The wife?” suggested Tuppence. “What about the wife?”
“A very natural suggestion. But Mrs. Sessle is also a small woman, andbesides, Mr. Hollaby knows her well by sight, and there seems no doubtthat she was really away from home. One further development has cometo light. The Porcupine Assurance Co is in liquidation. The accounts revealthe most daring misappropriation of funds. The reasons for CaptainSessle’s wild words to Doris Evans are now quite apparent. For some yearspast he must have been systematically embezzling money. Neither Mr.
Hollaby nor his son had any idea of what was going on. They are practic-ally ruined.
“The case stands like this. Captain Sessle was on the verge of discoveryand ruin. Suicide would be a natural solution, but the nature of the woundrules that theory out. Who killed him? Was it Doris Evans? Was it the mys-terious woman in brown?”
Tommy paused, took a sip of milk, made a wry face, and bit cautiouslyat the cheesecake.
Eleven THE SUNNINGDALE MYSTERY（2）
II
“Of course,” murmured Tommy, “I saw at once where the hitch in thisparticular case lay, and just where the police were going astray.”
“Yes?” said Tuppence eagerly.
Tommy shook his head sadly.
“I wish I did. Tuppence, it’s dead easy being the Old Man in the Cornerup to a certain point. But the solution beats me. Who did murder the beg-gar? I don’t know.”
He took some more newspaper cuttings out of his pocket.
“Further exhibits—Mr. Hollaby, his son, Mrs. Sessle, Doris Evans.”
Tuppence pounced on the last and looked at it for some time.
“She didn’t murder him anyway,” she remarked at last. “Not with a hat-pin.”
“Why this certainty?”
“A lady Molly touch. She’s got bobbed hair. Only one woman in twentyuses hatpins nowadays, anyway—long hair or short. Hats fit tight and pullon—there’s no need for such a thing.”
“Still, she might have had one by her.”
“My dear boy, we don’t keep them as heirlooms! What on earth shouldshe have brought a hatpin down to Sunningdale for?”
“Then it must have been the other woman, the woman in brown.”
“I wish she hadn’t been tall. Then she could have been the wife. I alwayssuspect wives who are away at the time and so couldn’t have had anythingto do with it. If she found her husband carrying on with that girl, it wouldbe quite natural for her to go for him with a hatpin.”
“I shall have to be careful, I see,” remarked Tommy.
But Tuppence was deep in thought and refused to be drawn.
“What were the Sessles like?” she asked suddenly. “What sort of thingsdid people say about them?”
“As far as I can make out, they were very popular. He and his wife weresupposed to be devoted to one another. That’s what makes the business ofthe girl so odd. It’s the last thing you’d have expected of a man like Sessle.
He was an ex-soldier, you know. Came into a good bit of money, retired,and went into this Insurance business. The last man in the world, appar-ently, whom you would have suspected of being a crook.”
“It is absolutely certain that he was the crook? Couldn’t it have been theother two who took the money?”
“The Hollabys? They say they’re ruined.”
“Oh, they say! Perhaps they’ve got it all in a bank under another name. Iput it foolishly, I dare say, but you know what I mean. Suppose they’dbeen speculating with the money for some time, unbeknownst to Sessle,and lost it all. It might be jolly convenient for them that Sessle died justwhen he did.”
Tommy tapped the photograph of Mr. Hollaby senior with his finger-nail.
“So you’re accusing this respectable gentleman of murdering his friendand partner? You forget that he parted from Sessle on the links in fullview of Barnard and Lecky, and spent the evening in the Dormy House.
Besides, there’s the hatpin.”
“Bother the hatpin,” said Tuppence impatiently. “That hatpin, you think,points to the crime having been committed by a woman?”
“Naturally. Don’t you agree?”
“No. Men are notoriously old-fashioned. It takes them ages to rid them-selves of preconceived ideas. They associate hatpins and hairpins with thefemale sex, and call them ‘women’s weapons.’ They may have been in thepast, but they’re both rather out of date now. Why, I haven’t had a hatpinor a hairpin for the last four years.”
“Then you think—?”
“That it was a man killed Sessle. The hatpin was used to make it seem awoman’s crime.”
“There’s something in what you say, Tuppence,” said Tommy slowly.
“It’s extraordinary how things seem to straighten themselves out whenyou talk a thing over.”
Tuppence nodded.
“Everything must be logical—if you look at it the right way. And remem-ber what Marriot once said about the amateur point of view—that it hadthe intimacy. We know something about people like Captain Sessle and hiswife. We know what they’re likely to do—and what they’re not likely todo. And we’ve each got our special knowledge.”
Tommy smiled.
“You mean,” he said, “that you are an authority on what people withbobbed and shingled heads are likely to have in their possession, and thatyou have an intimate acquaintance with what wives are likely to feel anddo?”
“Something of the sort.”
“And what about me? What is my special knowledge? Do husbands pickup girls, etc?”
“No,” said Tuppence gravely. “You know the course—you’ve been on it—not as a detective searching for clues, but as a golfer. You know about golf,and what’s likely to put a man off his game.”
“It must have been something pretty serious to put Sessle off his game.
His handicap’s two, and from the seventh tee on he played like a child, sothey say.”
“Who say?”
“Barnard and Lecky. They were playing just behind him, you remem-ber.”
“That was after he met the woman—the tall woman in brown. They sawhim speaking to her, didn’t they?”
“Yes—at least—”
Tommy broke off. Tuppence looked up at him and was puzzled. He wasstaring at the piece of string in his fingers, but staring with the eyes of onewho sees something very different.
“Tommy—what is it?”
“Be quiet, Tuppence. I’m playing the sixth hole at Sunningdale. Sessleand old Hollaby are holing out on the sixth green ahead of me. It’s gettingdusk, but I can see that bright blue coat of Sessle’s clearly enough. And onthe footpath to the left of me there’s a woman coming along. She hasn’tcrossed from the ladies’ course—that’s on the right—I should have seenher if she had done so. And it’s odd I didn’t see her on the footpath before—from the fifth tee, for instance.”
He paused.
“You said just now I knew the course, Tuppence. Just behind the sixthtee there’s a little hut or shelter made of turf. Anyone could wait in thereuntil—the right moment came. They could change their appearance there.
I mean—tell me, Tuppence, this is where your special knowledge comes inagain—would it be very difficult for a man to look like a woman, and thenchange back to being a man again? Could he wear a skirt over plus-fours,for instance?”
“Certainly he could. The woman would look a bit bulky, that would beall. A longish-brown skirt, say a brown sweater of the kind both men andwomen wear, and a woman’s felt hat with a bunch of side curls attachedeach side. That would be all that was needed—I’m speaking, of course, ofwhat would pass at a distance, which I take to be what you are driving at.
Switch off the skirt, take off the hat and curls, and put on a man’s capwhich you can carry rolled up in your hand, and there you’d be—back as aman again.”
“And the time required for the transformation?”
“From woman to man, a minute and a half at the outside, probably agood deal less. The other way about would take longer, you’d have to ar-range the hat and curls a bit, and the skirt would stick getting it on overthe plus fours.”
“That doesn’t worry me. It’s the time for the first that matters. As I tellyou, I’m playing the sixth hole. The woman in brown has reached the sev-enth tee now. She crosses it and waits. Sessle in his blue coat goes towardsher. They stand together a minute, and then they follow the path roundthe trees out of sight. Hollaby is on the tee alone. Two or three minutespass. I’m on the green now. The man in the blue coat comes back anddrives off, foozling badly. The light’s getting worse. I and my partner goon. Ahead of us are those two, Sessle slicing and topping and doingeverything he shouldn’t do. At the eighth green, I see him stride off andvanish down the slip. What happened to him to make him play like a dif-ferent man?”
“The woman in brown—or the man, if you think it was a man.”
“Exactly, and where they were standing — out of sight, remember, ofthose coming after them—there’s a deep tangle of furze bushes. You couldthrust a body in there, and it would be pretty certain to lie hidden untilthe morning.”
“Tommy! You think it was then.—But someone would have heard—”
“Heard what? The doctors agreed death must have been instantaneous.
I’ve seen men killed instantaneously in the war. They don’t cry out as arule—just a gurgle, or a moan—perhaps just a sigh, or a funny little cough.
Sessle comes towards the seventh tee, and the woman comes forward andspeaks to him. He recognises her, perhaps, as a man he knows masquerad-ing. Curious to learn the why and wherefore, he allows himself to bedrawn along the footpath out of sight. One stab with the deadly hatpin asthey walk along. Sessle falls—dead. The other man drags his body into thefurze bushes, strips off the blue coat, then sheds his own skirt and the hatand curls. He puts on Sessle’s well-known blue coat and cap and stridesback to the tee. Three minutes would do it. The others behind can’t see hisface, only the peculiar blue coat they know so well. They never doubt thatit’s Sessle—but he doesn’t play Sessle’s brand of golf. They all say he playedlike a different man. Of course he did. He was a different man.”
“But—”
“Point No. 2. His action in bringing the girl down there was the action ofa different man. It wasn’t Sessle who met Doris Evans at a cinema and in-duced her to come down to Sunningdale. It was a man calling himselfSessle. Remember, Doris Evans wasn’t arrested until a fortnight after thetime. She never saw the body. If she had, she might have bewildered every-one by declaring that that wasn’t the man who took her out on the golflinks that night and spoke so wildly of suicide. It was a carefully laid plot.
The girl invited down for Wednesday when Sessle’s house would beempty, then the hatpin which pointed to its being a woman’s doing. Themurderer meets the girl, takes her into the bungalow and gives her sup-per, then takes her out on the links, and when he gets to the scene of thecrime, brandishes his revolver and scares the life out of her. Once she hastaken to her heels, all he has to do is to pull out the body and leave it lyingon the tee. The revolver he chucks into the bushes. Then he makes a neatparcel of the skirt and—now I admit I’m guessing—in all probability walksto Woking, which is only about six or seven miles away, and goes back totown from there.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tuppence. “There’s one thing you haven’t ex-plained. What about Hollaby?”
“Hollaby?”
“Yes. I admit that the people behind couldn’t have seen whether it wasreally Sessle or not. But you can’t tell me that the man who was playingwith him was so hypnotised by the blue coat that he never looked at hisface.”
“My dear old thing,” said Tommy. “That’s just the point. Hollaby knewall right. You see, I’m adopting your theory — that Hollaby and his sonwere the real embezzlers. The murderer’s got to be a man who knewSessle pretty well—knew, for instance, about the servants being alwaysout on a Wednesday, and that his wife was away. And also someone whowas able to get an impression of Sessle’s latch key. I think Hollaby juniorwould fulfil all these requirements. He’s about the same age and height asSessle, and they were both clean-shaven men. Doris Evans probably sawseveral photographs of the murdered man reproduced in the papers, butas you yourself observed—one can just see that it’s a man and that’s aboutall.”
“Didn’t she ever see Hollaby in Court?”
“The son never appeared in the case at all. Why should he? He had noevidence to give. It was old Hollaby, with his irreproachable alibi, whostood in the limelight throughout. Nobody has ever bothered to inquirewhat his son was doing that particular evening.”
“It all fits in,” admitted Tuppence. She paused a minute and then asked:
“Are you going to tell all this to the police?”
“I don’t know if they’d listen.”
“They’d listen all right,” said an unexpected voice behind him.
Tommy swung round to confront Inspector Marriot. The Inspector wassitting at the next table. In front of him was a poached egg.
“Often drop in here to lunch,” said Inspector Marriot. “As I was saying,we’ll listen all right—in fact I’ve been listening. I don’t mind telling youthat we’ve not been quite satisfied all along over those Porcupine figures.
You see, we’ve had our suspicions of those Hollabys, but nothing to goupon. Too sharp for us. Then this murder came, and that seemed to upsetall our ideas. But thanks to you and the lady, sir, we’ll confront young Hol-laby with Doris Evans and see if she recognises him. I rather fancy shewill. That’s a very ingenious idea of yours about the blue coat. I’ll see thatBlunt’s Brilliant Detectives get the credit for it.”
“You are a nice man, Inspector Marriot,” said Tuppence gratefully.
“We think a lot of you two at the Yard,” replied that stolid gentleman.
“You’d be surprised. If I may ask you, sir, what’s the meaning of that pieceof string?”
“Nothing,” said Tommy, stuffing it into his pocket. “A bad habit of mine.
As to the cheesecake and the milk—I’m on a diet. Nervous dyspepsia. Busymen are always martyrs to it.”
“Ah!” said the detective. “I thought perhaps you’d been reading—well,it’s of no consequence.”
But the Inspector’s eyes twinkled.
第十一章 太阳谷之谜（1）
第十一章 太阳谷之谜
1“你知道我们今天要去哪儿吃午餐吗，塔彭丝？”
贝尔斯福德太太思量着这个问题。
“里茨饭店？”她满怀希望地提出。
“再想想。”
“索霍大街的那家小巧舒适的餐馆？”
“不是，”汤米语气郑重道，“一家ABC餐馆，实际上，就是这家。”
他迅速拉她进了刚才所指的一家餐馆，领她走到角落里一张大理石桌面的餐桌旁。
“这儿棒极了，”汤米坐下后满意地说，“没有比这儿更舒服的地方了。”
“你为什么突然对简朴的生活产生了兴趣？”塔彭丝问。
“你是在看，华生，而不是在观察。我在想那些傲慢的小姐中某一位会不会屈尊注意到我们？啊，好极了，她移步过来了。显然她似乎在想着别的事情，但无疑她的下意识里正忙着安排火腿、鸡蛋、茶罐之类的东西。请来一份肋排和煎土豆，小姐，一大杯咖啡，一根牛肉肠加黄油，给这位女士来一盘牛舌。”
女侍漫不经心地重复了一遍订单，但是塔彭丝突然向前倾了倾身子，并打断了她。
“不，不要肋排和煎土豆。这位绅士要一份奶油蛋糕和一杯牛奶。”
“一份奶油蛋糕和一杯牛奶。”女侍的语气更加漫不经心，好像脑中仍然在想着别的事。她又轻盈地飘走了。
“你没有得到我的允许。”汤米冷冷地说。
“你不也这样，但我说什么了吗？你是坐在桌子上首的老板吗？喂，你的绳子在哪儿？”
汤米从口袋里掏出一捆团在一起的绳子，在上面打了两个结。
“吹毛求疵。”他小声抱怨。
“但是你在点餐时犯了个小错误。”
“女人总是这样较真，”汤米说，“如果说我讨厌什么的话，那就是喝牛奶，还有奶油蛋糕总是黄黄的，看起来黏糊糊的。”
“专业点，”塔彭丝说，“看我怎么大嚼这些冰冷的舌肉，这些冷舌肉真是好东西。现在，我完全准备好扮演波丽•伯顿小姐 [1] 。再打一个大绳结，我们这就开始。”
“首先，”汤米说，“从完全非正式的角度，让我指出：最近生意太不景气了。既然业务不上门来找我们，那我们就出去找业务。我们可以把我们的才智用到时下某个公之于众的特大悬案上。这让我想到了——太阳谷谜案。”
“啊哈，”塔彭丝很感兴趣地说，“太阳谷谜案。”
汤米从口袋中掏出一团皱巴巴的报纸放到桌子上。
“这是塞斯尔上尉的照片，最近登在《领导者日报》上。”
“啊哈，”塔彭丝说，“我就纳闷，为什么没有人起诉这些报纸，你只能看出那是一个男人，仅此而已。”
“说太阳谷之谜时，我应该说所谓的太阳谷之谜。”汤米继续飞快地说。
“可能对警察来说是个谜，但是对聪明的人来说却不是。”
“再打一个结。”塔彭丝说。
“我不知道关于这个案子，你还记得多少。”汤米继续平静地说。
“都记得，”塔彭丝说，“但我还是别束缚了你的讲述风格。”
“刚好是三周前，”汤米说，“那个著名的高尔夫球场发生了一件可怕的事情。两个俱乐部会员，他们正兴致勃勃地进行一场比赛，却惊恐地发现有个人面朝下趴在第七个球座那儿。甚至没等他们把他翻转过来，就已经猜出这个人是塞斯尔上尉，他是这个高尔夫球场的常客，总是穿一套奇怪的亮蓝色的高尔夫运动衫。
“人们经常看到塞斯尔上尉一大早就出发去球场练习，开始人们还以为他突患心脏病而死。但是医生的检查报告表明这是一起犯罪事件，他是被谋杀的，被一种特别的凶器——女人的帽针——刺进了心脏。他被发现时至少已经死了十二个小时。
“整个案件扑朔迷离，很快一些有趣的事情逐渐浮出水面。特别是塞斯尔上尉生前最后见到的人是他的朋友和合伙人，波库派恩保险公司的哈拉比先生，他这样讲述了事件经过：
“塞斯尔和他那天早晨已经赛了一局，下午茶后，塞斯尔提议他们应该趁天色未暗多打几洞。哈拉比同意了。塞斯尔似乎兴致很高，状态也非常好。有一条供行人行走的小路穿过球场，当他们打到第六个球座时，哈拉比看到一个女人沿着那条小道走来。她个子很高，一身棕色衣服，但是他并没有特别留意，至于塞斯尔，哈拉比认为根本他就没有注意到她。
“前面提到的那条小路从第七个球座前面穿过，”汤米继续说，“这个女人已经经过这个球座，站在更远的地方，似乎在等什么人。塞斯尔上尉先到达第七个球座那儿，当时哈拉比先生正在更换洞口的球栓。当后者走向第七个球座时，他惊讶地发现塞斯尔正在和这个女人交谈。当他走得更近些，那两个人突然都转过身走了，塞斯尔扭过头来喊道：‘一会儿就回来。’
“这两个人肩并肩走路，仍然认真地交谈着。这条小路通往大路，经过两个相邻花园之间狭窄的树篱，最后通往温德尔舍姆大道。
“按照哈拉比的说法，令他非常满意的是，塞斯尔上尉很守约，在一两分钟之后再次出现，其他两个打球的人在他们后面跟上来，而且天色暗得很快。他们又开始打球，哈拉比马上注意到有什么事令他的同伴很烦恼。因为他不仅球打得很糟糕，而且满面愁容，眉头紧锁。他几乎不回答同伴的问题，狠狠地一下下地击球。显然，发生了什么事使他无心再继续打下去……
“他们打完第七个和第八个球洞后，塞苏尔上尉突然说光线不好，他要回家了。就在他们站的地方恰好有另一条狭窄的羊肠小道通往温德尔舍姆大道。塞斯尔就从这儿离开，那也是他回家的捷径，他家就是温德尔舍姆大道旁的一栋小木屋。其他两个打球的人——走近后，哈拉比对他们提起塞斯比突然的情绪变化。他们俩也看到了塞斯尔上校和那个棕色衣服的女人谈话，但是离得远没有看清她的脸。这三个人都纳闷她到底说了什么，让他们的朋友如此烦恼。
“他们一起回到俱乐部更衣室，就当时情况而言，他们被认为是最后见到塞斯尔上校活着的人。这天是星期三，正好每周三会发行去伦敦的优惠票。打理塞斯尔上尉小木屋的那对夫妇像往常一样去了城里，直到末班火车才回来。他们像平常一样进了门，以为他们的主人在他房间里睡觉。而塞斯尔太太，当天恰好出门拜访朋友去了。
“连续九天，人们对上尉之死进行了各种猜测。没有人能说出这个案件的作案动机。身着棕色衣服的高个儿女人的身份也是议论的焦点，但也没有结果。警察，照例被公众谴责无作为——当然这也不公平，时间会证明这一点。一周之后，一个叫多萝西•埃文斯的女孩被逮捕，她被指控是杀害安东尼•塞斯尔上尉的凶手。
“警察几乎没找到什么有价值的线索，这个死去的男人手指间绕着一根美丽的头发，他的蓝色外套纽扣上缠着几根火红色的毛线纤维。经过在火车站和别的地方的明察暗访，得出了如下事实。
“一位身着火红色外套和裙子的年轻女孩那晚七点钟左右乘火车来到这儿，曾打听去塞斯尔上尉家的路。两个小时后这个女孩在火车站再次出现。当时她帽子歪斜，头发蓬乱，似乎十分激动。她一边询问回城的火车，一边不时地回头张望身后，好像害怕什么人追上来。
“我们的警力在许多方面还是挺优秀的，就凭这些蛛丝马迹，他们追踪到了这个女孩，确认她的身份——名叫多萝西•埃文斯。她被控谋杀。警方警告她所说的任何一句话都将被当作呈堂证供，但是她坚持发表辩护声明，又在接下来的审讯中详细复述了一遍，没任何新东西。
“她是这样说的：她是个打字员，一天晚上在电影院和一位衣着入时的先生结识，那个人说喜欢她。他告诉她，他名叫安东尼，建议她来自己的太阳谷别墅看看。她当时并不知道他有妻子。他俩约定接下来的那个周三她去太阳谷——就是那个特殊的日子，你该记得，那天仆人去了伦敦，而他的妻子也不在。最后，他告诉她他的全名是安东尼•塞斯尔，同时说了他房子的名字。
“她如约在那个晚上来到别墅，见到了塞斯尔，他刚从球场回来。尽管他承认自己很高兴见到她，但这个女孩却说一见面他的态度就有些奇怪。一般隐约的恐怖感涌上心头，她真希望自己没有来过。
“一顿简单的晚餐后——晚餐是早就备好的——塞斯尔提议出去走走。这个女孩同意了，他带她走出房子，不久，他们沿着那条‘羊肠小道’走到高尔夫球场的跑道上。然后突然间，正当他们经过第七个球座时，他似乎完全丧失了理智，从口袋中掏出一把手枪，挥舞着说他活到头了。
“一切都完了！我被毁掉了——完蛋了。你应该和我一起走。我先杀了你——然后是我自己。他们明天早晨会发现我们的尸体紧挨在一起——一起赴了黄泉。
“等等——说了很多这一类的话。他抓住多萝西•埃文丝的胳膊，而她，此刻也清醒地意识到自己必须对付眼前这个疯子，于是疯狂挣扎摆脱他的控制，失败后又去抢夺他手里的枪。他们撕扯在一块，挣扎中他一定扯下了她的头发，扣子上缠住了她外套的纤维。
“最终，经过殊死搏斗，她挣脱出来，穿过高尔夫球场逃命，时刻担心会被子弹击倒。
她被矮树桩绊倒了两次，但最终还是找到了去火车站的路，发现并没有人追上来。
“这是多萝西•埃文斯的故事版本——她一直都坚持这个说法。她矢口否认自己曾用帽针袭击他——尽管在那种情况下这是很自然的自卫行为——而这个说法可能是真的。在尸体附近的金雀丛中，的确找到一把左轮手枪，这和她的说法相符，而这把枪没有开过火。
“多萝西•埃文斯被送去审判，但是案情仍然是个谜。如果她的说法可信，那是谁刺中了塞斯尔上尉？另一个女人，那位棕色衣服的高个儿女人，她的出现似乎给他带来极大烦恼。至今没有人解释过她和这个案子的联系。她似乎从天而降，突然出现在高尔夫球场的人行道上，然后从那条小道消失得无影无踪，没有人再听说过她。她是谁？当地人？从伦敦来的？如果来自伦敦，她是坐汽车还是乘火车来的？除了身高，她没有什么显著的特征；似乎没有人能描述她的外貌。她不会是多萝西•埃文斯，因为多萝西•埃文斯娇小白皙，并且那时已经到火车站了。”
“他的太太？”塔彭丝提议，“会不会是他的太太？”
“很合理的提议。但是塞斯尔太太也是一个小个子女人，并且，哈拉比先生一眼就能认出她，似乎她确实不在家。案子的另一个进展渐渐明朗。波派库恩保险公司正在进行停业清算，账目结果表明大量资金被侵吞。塞斯尔上尉对多萝西•埃文斯说的那些疯话的原因现在已昭然若揭。过去这几年他一定有计划、有步骤地贪污了大量公款。哈拉比父子都不知道这些事。他们实际上已经破产了。
“案情就是这样。塞斯尔上尉处于罪行败露和破产的边缘。自杀是最自然的解决方式，但是致他死亡的伤口又排除了这种可能性。谁杀了他？是多萝西•埃文斯？还是那个神秘的棕衣女人？”
汤米住了口，喝了一小口牛奶，苦了下脸，接着小心地咬了一口奶油蛋糕。
第十一章 太阳谷之谜（2）
2“当然喽，”汤米小声说，“我立刻就发现这个特殊案件的关键所在，就是在那儿警察误入了歧途。”
“是吗？”塔彭丝急切地说。
汤米烦恼地摇摇头。
“但愿我的看法是对的，塔彭丝，这对于坐在‘桌子上首的老板’来说，发现某个关键环节易如反掌，倒是这个结局难倒了我。是谁杀了那个家伙？我不知道。”
他又从口袋里掏出好几张剪报。
“还有——这些是最新的照片——哈拉比先生，他儿子，塞斯尔太太，多萝西•埃文斯。”
塔彭丝忽然抓起最后一张，仔细端详了一会儿。
“她没有杀他，”她最后说，“也根本没用帽针。”
“为什么那么肯定？”
“女人的直觉。她是短发。现在二十个女人里只会有一个用帽针，无论——长发或短发。现在的帽子都能扣紧——没必要戴这个东西。”
“但是她仍有可能随身带着一个啊。”
“我亲爱的孩子，我们可不像收藏传家宝一样藏这些东西！她带着个帽针来太阳谷到底是为了什么？”
“那一定就是另外一个女人干的，那个棕衣女人。”
“但愿她不是那么高。那么就有可能是他的妻子。很可疑，她们总是关键时刻不在场，因此就没有作案嫌疑。如果她发现她的丈夫和那个女孩调情，那她带着帽针去找他算账就十分合理了。”
“我明白了，我得十分小心。”汤米开玩笑说。
但是塔彭丝正陷于深思之中，没有听到他的话。
“塞斯尔夫妇关系究竟怎么样？”她突然问道，“人们是怎么评价他们的？”
“据我所知，人们对他们的评价相当不错。大家认为他们夫妻俩彼此专一，这就让那个女孩的说词显得十分奇怪。人们想象不出塞斯尔那样的男人会干出这样的事。他是退伍军人，你知道。退役后，得到一大笔钱，进入这个保险公司。显然，他是这世上你最后会想到的能变成坏蛋的人。”
“他确实就是个坏蛋吗？难道不会是那两个人侵吞了那些钱？”
“哈拉比父子？他们说他们破产了。”
“哦，他们说！他们可能用化名把钱存在某一家银行了呢。我表述得有些滑稽，但是你懂我的意思。假设他们早就开始瞒着塞斯尔用这笔钱搞投机，最后却赔了个精光。那么可能塞斯尔死比活对他们来说更有利。”
汤米用指甲轻敲着老哈拉比先生的照片。
“你是说这位可敬的绅士杀了他的朋友和合伙人？你别忘了伯纳德和莱基亲眼见他和塞斯尔在球场分别，在多美茵宾馆过的夜，并且还有个神奇的帽针。”
“烦人的帽针，”塔彭丝不耐烦地说，“你认为，就是那个帽针把嫌疑人指向了女人？”
“当然，你不赞成？”
“不，男人出名的因循守旧。他们会花好几年的时间才能改变先前的想法。他们把帽针和发夹与女性联系在一起，把它们叫作‘女人的武器’。这在过去可能还有点道理，但男人和这些武器现在的确都过时了。你看，我已经四年没有戴过帽针或发夹了。”
“那么你认为——”
“我认为是个男人杀了塞斯尔。帽针只是用来使整个案子看起来像女人干的。”
“你说得不无道理，塔彭丝，”汤米慢慢地说，“这很神奇，经你这样一分析，这些错综复杂的事情似乎就变得简单了。”
塔彭丝得意地点点头。
“每件事一定都合乎逻辑——如果你从正确的角度看。记得马里奥特从前讲过关于业余侦探的观点——过分注重‘隐私’。比如，我们多少了解一些像塞斯尔和他妻子这类人，我们知道他们可能干什么，不可能干什么，我们每个人都有自己的一些特殊认识。”
汤米笑了。
“你的意思是，”他说，“你是专家，在长短发的女人们可能随身携带什么方面，同时你也熟知那些太太们可能想什么、做什么吧？”
“诸如此类的事吧。”
“那么我呢？我又有什么特殊认识？丈夫们泡妞之类？”
“不是，”塔彭丝严肃地说，“但是你了解这项运动——你到过高尔夫球场——不是作为侦探寻找线索，而是作为一位高尔夫球手。你了解高尔夫球手，知道什么情况下能让一个球手退出球赛。”
“一定是什么十分严重的事情才能让塞斯尔离开球场。他一直领先于对手，但是从第七个球开始，他就打得像个孩子了，他们是这样说的。”
“谁说的？”
“伯纳德和莱基。他们就在他后面打球，记得吗？”
“那是在他遇到那个女人之后——高个儿棕发女人。他们看到他和那个女人谈话，不是吗？”
“是的——至少——”
汤米突然住口。塔彭丝疑惑地抬头看他。只见他盯着自己手指上的那根绳子，似乎在看什么十分奇怪的东西。
“汤米——怎么啦？”
“别说话，塔彭丝。我正在太阳谷打第六号洞。塞斯尔和老哈拉比在我前面第六块草地打球。天色渐暗，但我仍能看清塞斯尔的亮蓝色外套。在我左边的人行道上，有一个女人走过来。她不是从女子球场过来——女子球场在右边——如果是的话我应该能看见。奇怪的是，我之前也没有见过她在这条路上走——在第五个球座那儿，比如说。”
他停下来。
“你刚说我了解高尔夫球场，塔彭丝，就在第六个球座后面，有一个用草皮搭的小屋，或者叫棚子。人们可以在那儿等，直到——合适的时机到来。在那儿他们也可以乔装打扮。我是说——告诉我，塔彭丝，这儿用得着你说的特殊知识了——让一个男人看起来像个女人，然后又很快恢复成男人模样很难吗？比如说，他能在灯笼裤外套上一条裙子吗？”
“当然能。只是这个女人会看起来有点臃肿而已。一件稍长的棕色裙子，或者一件棕色的毛线衣，男人女人都能穿的一款，戴一顶女式毡帽，帽檐每边都粘着一束卷发。这些都是必需的——我是说，当然，这些行头从远处看才可以迷惑人。按你的思路，迅速剥下裙子，摘掉帽子和卷发，戴上男式帽子，这帽子你可以事先卷起来拿在手中，这样你就——又变回一个男人模样了。”
“这样乔装打扮需要多长时间？”
“从女人变回男人，最多一分半钟，可能更短。男人变女人所用时间可能会长些，需要捯饬帽子和卷发，还需要在灯笼裤外套上裙子。”
“这个不用考虑，那是一开始需要用的时间。正如我告诉你的，我正在打第六个洞。棕衣女人现在已经到了第七个球座，在这儿她穿过小道等着。塞斯尔身着蓝色外套走向她。
他们一起站了一会儿，然后沿着小路，绕过树林不见了。哈拉比自己一个人在球座那儿。
两三分钟后，我到了第六个球座那儿。身着蓝色运动衣的男子回来打球，他打得非常糟糕。光线越来越暗。我和我的同伴继续打球。我们前面是那两个人，塞斯尔刨球，顶球，球技与平时大相径庭。在第八个球区，我看到他大步走开，消失在羊肠小道上。到底发生了什么，让他看起来判若两人呢？”
“是那个棕衣女人——或者是男人，如果你认为他是个男人。”
“非常正确，他们所站的地方——在人们的视线之外，别忘了——有一大丛金雀花灌木。你可以将一具尸体塞进那儿，可以十分肯定尸体被藏在那儿直到第二天早晨。”
“汤米！你认为就是在那时发生了凶杀案——但是有人会听到——”
“听到什么？医生的检验报告说是瞬间致命，我在战争中见过。他们不像平常那样叫喊——只是会有轻微的咯咯声，或是一声呻吟——甚至可能只是一声叹息，或者一声奇怪的咳嗽。塞斯尔走向第七个球座，这个女人走过来和他谈话。他认出了她，也许，他知道他是伪装的。因为好奇事情的前因后果，他就和对方沿着小路走出了人们的视线，行走时遭受一个致命帽针的重重一击。塞斯尔倒下——死了。那个男人把他的尸体拖到金雀花丛里，剥去他的外衣，然后脱下自己的裙子，摘下帽子和卷发。他穿上塞斯尔那件众所周知的蓝色运动衣，戴上帽子，大步回到球场。三分钟足矣。后面的人看不见他的脸，只能看见他们熟悉的那件独特的蓝色外套。他们从未怀疑过那不是塞斯尔，而他打起球来却并不是塞斯尔的风格。他们都说好像另外一个人在打球。当然，没错，他本来就是另外一个人。”
“但是——”
“第二点。带那个女孩来太阳谷也是另一个人的行为。在电影院遇到多萝西•埃文斯，邀请她来太阳谷的不是塞斯尔，而是一个自称塞斯尔的人。还记得吧，多萝西•埃文斯是在两周之后被捕的。她从未见过尸体。如果看过，她可能会说出让所有人迷惑的问题——这个人不是那晚带她到高尔夫球场、轻言要自杀的人。这是精心设计的一个阴谋。这个女孩被邀请星期三来，那一天塞斯尔家里没有人，然后帽针又指向凶手是一个女人。凶手和那个女孩见面，带她进了小屋，和她一起吃了晚饭，然后带她去了球场，到达犯罪现场时，他挥舞着左轮手枪，恐吓要她的命。当她逃之夭夭后，他要做的就是拖出尸体把它丢在球座那儿。左轮手枪被扔在灌木丛中。然后他把裙子装在一个包裹里——我承认这是猜测——极有可能步行去沃金，那地方离这儿只有六七英里远，从那儿再回到城里。”
“等一下，”塔彭丝说，“还有一件事你没解释清楚，哈拉比呢？”
“哈拉比？”
“是的，我承认后面的人看不清到底是不是真的塞斯尔。但是你不能说，和他一起打球的人也被蓝色外套迷惑，根本没看他的脸？”
“我亲爱的老伙计，”汤米说，“这正是问题的关键。哈拉比知道一切。你看，我采用了你的理论推断——哈拉比和他的儿子是真正的侵占公款者。凶手一定是相当了解塞斯尔的人——非常了解，比如他早就知道他家的仆人总是在周三出门，而他的太太也会出门。同时，这个人还得和塞斯尔大致相像。我想小哈拉比能满足这些条件。他和塞斯尔年纪和身高都相仿，他们都把胡子刮得光光的。多萝西•埃文斯可能看过几张死者的照片，但是正如你所见——只能看出那是一个男人，仅此而已。”
“难道她在法庭上见不到哈拉比吗？”
“小哈拉比从未在案中出现过。为什么他要出现？他没有什么证据要提供。是老哈拉比，带着他无可辩驳的不在场证明，自始至终站在聚光灯下。没有人肯去问一问那个晚上他的儿子干了什么。”
“这些都符合案情，”塔彭丝承认道，她停顿了一下，然后问道，“你要去告诉警察吗？”
“我不知道他们是否会听信我的话。”
“他们完全会听。”身后突然出乎意料地响起一个声音。
汤米转过身，面对的竟是马里奥特探长，这位探长一直坐在邻近的桌子旁。他面前放着一个水煮蛋。
“经常来这儿吃午饭。”马里奥特探长说。
“正如我所说，我们完全会听信——事实上，我一直在听。我可以告诉你，我们早就对那些‘豪猪’不满了。尽管我们已经怀疑哈拉比父子，但是没有什么证据。对我们来说这个问题太尖锐了。然后发生了谋杀案，这个案子似乎推翻了我们先前所有的怀疑。但是多亏了你和这位女士，先生，我们将带小哈拉比和多萝西•埃文斯当面对质，看她能否把他认出来。我敢肯定她会的。你们对那件蓝色运动服的想法真有创意啊！我想布兰特卓越事务所会因此受到嘉奖。”
“您真好，马里奥特探长。”塔彭丝感激地说。
“在苏格兰场，我可是经常念叨你们俩，”这位冷静的绅士说，“你们对此不会感到惊讶吧。我能不能问你一个问题，先生，你手中那根细绳意味着什么？”
“没什么，”汤米说，把它塞进口袋里，“只是我的一个坏习惯。至于奶油蛋糕和牛奶——我在节食。神经性消化不良。忙碌的男人总是长期饱受其苦。”
“啊哈！”探长说，“我还以为可能你一直在用绳占卜呢——好啦，反正这些都无关紧要。”
但是探长眨了眨眼睛。
[1]波丽•伯顿小姐（Miss Polly Burton），奥希兹女男爵的代表作《角落里的老人》中《夜间观察报》
（the Evening Observer）的记者。书中有一家咖啡馆，名叫“ABC咖啡馆”。咖啡馆的角落里坐着一位老人，每天在那里吃蛋糕、喝咖啡，还喜欢打绳结。一次，这位女记者无意中和老人攀谈起来，结果老人足不出户，仅仅凭借报纸的报道，就非常准确地破获了一起谋杀案。以后记者一碰到案件就去找老人，老人都以这种神奇的方式解决了这些案子。本故事中的汤米夫妇就是在模仿这位安乐椅神探。
第十二章 杀机暗伏的房子（1）
第十二章 杀机暗伏的房子
1“什么——”塔彭丝刚开口大叫，接着又闭了嘴。
她刚从紧邻的标有“非请莫入”的房间走进布兰特先生的私人办公室，就惊讶地发现她的夫君兼老板正把眼睛贴在窥视孔上，聚精会神地观察着外面的办公室。
“嘘，”汤米警告她说，“你没听到蜂鸣声吗？这次是个女孩——相当漂亮的女孩——实际上我看她十分迷人。阿尔伯特正在跟她胡扯，说我在和苏格兰场通话之类的。”
“让我看看。”塔彭丝要求。
汤米有些不情愿地挪到一边，塔彭丝也把眼睛贴在窥视孔上。
“的确还不赖，”塔彭丝承认，“她那身衣服也是最新款的。”
“她十分可爱，”汤米说，“就像梅森笔下的那些——你知道，非常善良、美丽、聪明，一点也不轻佻。我想，是的——就是这样，今天上午我将扮演伟大的哈纳得 [1] 。”
“嗯哼，”塔彭丝说，“如果要说这么多的侦探大师中你和谁最不相像——我会选哈纳得。你能闪电式地表现不同的个性吗？你能表演一个伟大的喜剧演员、贫民区小男孩、严肃而可爱的朋友吗——在五分钟之内完成这一切。”
“我知道这点，”汤米说，猛地一拍桌子，“我可是有大将的谋略——你没忘吧，塔彭丝，我要马上让她进来。”
他按下了办公桌上的蜂鸣器。阿尔伯特出现了，把顾客领了进来。
这个女孩在门口停下，似乎还没有下定决心，汤米走上前。
“请进，小姐，”他和蔼地说，“随便坐吧。”
塔彭丝咳出了声，而汤米转过身，态度一百八十度转弯，语气里带着威胁。
“你有话说，鲁宾孙小姐？啊，没有，我也认为没有。”
他转过身来再次面对那个姑娘。
“不用那么严肃或正式，”他说，“您只管告诉我来意，然后我们商量出一个最佳的方案帮助您。”
“您太好了，”这个女孩说，“不好意思，您是外国人吗？”
塔彭丝又忍不住笑出了声，汤米用眼角的余光朝她的方向扫了一下。
“不算是，”他困难地解释说，“但是我在国外工作了好长时间。我的办法可都是‘保险’的办法。”
“哦！”女孩似乎对这个词留下了深刻的印象。
正如汤米所说，这是一个迷人的姑娘——年轻、苗条，一缕金色的头发从一顶小小的棕色毡帽下隐隐探出头来，外加一双大而严肃的眼睛。
她很紧张，这一眼就能看出来。那双纤巧的小手扭在一起，一会儿抓紧一会儿又松开她的漆皮小包。
“首先，布兰特先生，我必须告诉您，我的名字是洛伊斯•哈格里夫。我住在一座蔓草丛生的老式大房子里，那房子叫索恩利农场，在乡村的中心位置。附近是索恩利小镇，但是这个小镇很不起眼。我们冬天打猎，夏天打网球，从没有觉得寂寞。说句实在话，我宁愿选择乡村生活，而不愿生活在城市里。
“我告诉您这些，是希望您明白在像那样的乡村小镇，无论发生什么事情都很引人注目。大约一星期前，我收到了一盒从邮局寄来的巧克力，里面也没有什么东西可以表明是谁寄的。现在我自己并不是特别喜欢巧克力，但是家里其他人却喜欢，这盒巧克力就被分吃了，结果每个吃过巧克力的人都得了病。我们请来医生，那医生问过各种问题，比如吃过什么别的东西之类，他还带走了剩余的巧克力，送去化验。布兰特先生，化验结果表明那些巧克力里面竟然有砒霜！不足以致人死命，但足以让人身体抱恙。”
“太奇怪了。”汤米评论道。
“伯顿医生觉得这件事非常奇怪，好像这是小镇里发生的第三起类似事件。每一次都发生在一所大房子里，里面的人吃了这种神秘的巧克力后都生病了。看起来好像是当地一些神经病搞的一个恶作剧。”
“很可能，哈格里夫小姐。”
“伯顿医生把这件事归咎于社会主义者滋事——这相当愚蠢可笑，我认为。但是在索恩利镇上，有一两个不满现状的人，似乎也不可能和这件事有关系。伯顿医生十分热心，他建议我应该把整个事件交到警察手中。”
“很合理的提议，”汤米说，“但你还没这样做吧，我猜，哈克里夫小姐？”
“没呢，”这女孩承认，“我不喜欢小题大做和大肆宣扬——您知道，我认识我们当地的探长，但我从不认为他能侦破出什么来！我经常看到你们的广告，我告诉伯顿医生，我认为请私人侦探来办理更为明智。”
“我明白了。”
“你们在广告中大力宣传你们尊重委托人酌情处理的自由权。我以为那就意味着……那个……那个……嗯，不经我的同意你不会把任何事情公之于众吧？”
汤米好奇地看着她，但是这时塔彭丝发话了。
“我想，”她平静地说，“是的，只要哈格里夫小姐告诉我们‘一切’。”
她特别加重了末尾这个词，洛伊斯•哈格里夫紧张地红了脸。
“是的，”汤米很快说，“鲁宾孙小姐是对的。你一定要告诉我们所有事情。”
“你们不会——”她犹豫了一下。
“你所说的任何事情我们都严格保密。”
“谢谢，我知道我应该对您坦白。我不去报警是有原因的。布兰特先生，那盒巧克力是我们房子里的某个人寄的！”
“你怎么知道，小姐？”
“这很简单。我有个习惯，喜欢画一些没头脑的小东西——比如，三条小鱼绕在一起——只要我手中有支铅笔。不久前，一包丝袜从伦敦的某个商店寄来。当时我们正吃早饭，我在报纸上用笔做记号。趁割断绑绳打开之前，我无意识地在标签上画了一条小丑鱼。过后，我差不多忘了这件事。但是当我检查送来的巧克力盒子外面那张棕色纸片时，我居然看到了原先标签的一角——大部分都被撕掉了，但上面还留有我的那幅小小的没头脑的画作。”
汤米往前拉了拉椅子。
“这就很严重了，照你所说，我们可以很有把握地推测这位送巧克力的人是你家中的一员。但是请你原谅，如果我说我仍没看出是什么事让你不愿意报警？”
洛伊斯•哈格里夫小姐诚实地看着他的脸。
“我会告诉您，布兰特先生，但是我不想这件事张扬出去。”
汤米优雅地坐正了身子。
“既然这样，”他小声说，“我知道了，洛伊斯•哈格里夫小姐，您是不打算告诉我您的怀疑对象了？”
“我没有怀疑谁——但是却有很多种可能。”
“是的。现在您能向我详细描述一下家庭成员吗？”
“仆人们，除了客厅女仆，都上年纪了，跟了我们很多年。我必须向您解释，布兰特先生，我是被姑母——拉德克利夫夫人养大的，她非常富有。她丈夫很有钱，被授予爵位。
是他买下了索恩利农庄，但是到了那儿两年后，他就去世了，之后拉德克利夫夫人就派人接我来和她一起生活。我是她唯一的亲人。另外一位同住者是丹尼斯•德拉克利夫，是她丈夫的侄子。我一直叫他表哥，但是当然我们没有血缘关系。露丝姑妈总是公开说，她要把她的钱，除了给我一小份，其余的都留给丹尼斯。这是德拉克利夫的钱，她说，应该给德拉克利夫家族的人。但是，当丹尼斯二十二岁的时候，她和他爆发了激烈的争吵——因为他欠下的一些债务。一年之后她去世了，令我震惊的是，我发现她留下遗嘱把所有的钱都给了我。我知道，这对丹尼斯是一个巨大打击，我也觉得十分不好受。如果他肯要，我会把这笔钱给他，但似乎这种事行不通。不过只要我一满二十一岁，就会立个遗嘱，把所有的钱都给他，至少这我能做到。所以，如果我被摩托车撞了，或者死于非命，丹尼斯会得到他应得的那笔钱。”
“确实是，”汤米说，“那么，什么时候你满二十一岁呢，恕我冒昧？”
“就在三周前。”
“啊哈！”汤米说，“现在您能向我更详细地介绍下您家中的情况吗？”
“仆人——或者——其他人？”
“都要介绍。”
“仆人，正如我所说，都跟了我们一段时间了。有老霍洛韦太太，她是厨子，她的侄女罗斯，厨房帮佣。有两个年纪稍长的女仆，汉娜是我姑妈的女仆，她一直侍奉我。客厅女仆叫埃斯特•昆特，她看起来也是个品行良好、性格安静的女孩。至于我们家里人，有位罗根小姐，她是露西姑妈的女伴，现在为我操持整个家务，德拉克利夫上尉——就是丹尼斯，您知道，我告诉过您，还有一个女孩，叫玛丽•齐克特，她是我的一位老同学，和我们住在一起。”
汤米思考了一下。
“似乎都很清白正直，哈格里夫小姐，”过了一两分钟后他说，“我估计，您没有特别的理由怀疑什么人吧？您只是担心被证明恰恰不是……呃……不是一个仆人干的，是不是？”
“正是，布兰特先生，我确实不知道是谁用了那张棕色纸片。那上面的字迹是打印的。”
“看来只有一件事可做，”汤米说，“我一定要亲自去趟现场。”
这个女孩好奇地看着他。
汤米又想了一下，接着说：
“我建议你最好回去准备迎接你的朋友到来——比如，万杜森夫妇——你的美国朋友。
你能做到这些，不露丝毫破绽吗？”
“哦，当然，这没有什么问题。你们什么时候来——明天——或后天？”
“明天，如果您同意，此事刻不容缓。”
“到时一定安排好。”
这个女孩站起身，伸出手。
“有件事，哈格里夫小姐——不要向任何人透露一个字，谁都不要，毕竟知人知面不知心。”
“你怎么看，塔彭丝？”送走来访者回来后，他问。
“我不喜欢，”塔彭丝干脆地说，“特别是不喜欢含有少量砒霜的巧克力。”
“你什么意思？”
“你没明白？这些被送给邻居的巧克力只是障眼法，为了让人形成当地有个疯子的看法。然后，当这个女孩真的中毒后，人们就会做同样想。你看，但是纯属侥幸，原本没有人会想到巧克力实际就是从这栋房子寄出去的。”
“那是障眼法，你说得对。你认为这是专门针对这个女孩的阴谋？”
“恐怕是。我记得我读过已故德拉克利夫的遗嘱。那个女孩突然继承了一大笔钱。”
“是的，而且她到了年龄，三星期前刚立了遗嘱。看起来不妙——对丹尼斯•德拉克利夫来说。只有她死他才能得到那些钱。”
塔彭丝点点头。
“最危险的是——她也想到了这点！这就是她不愿意报警的原因。她已经开始怀疑。但从她的所作所为来看，她一定深深爱上了他。”
“既然这样，”汤米若有所思地说，“为什么这个魔鬼不娶她？这样既简单又安全。”
塔彭丝盯着他。
“你说得很对，”她说道，“啊，上帝！我已经准备好当万杜森夫人了，是你说的。”
“为什么要急于犯罪呢，明明手边有合法的方式？”
塔彭丝思考了一两分钟。
“我知道了，”她宣告说，“显然他在牛津期间一定娶了某个酒吧女郎。这引起他和他婶婶之间的争吵，如此一切便都可以得到解释。”
“那他为什么不把有毒的巧克力送给那位酒吧女郎呢？”汤米说，“这不更现实吗，我希望你不要总是轻易下这些毫无根据的结论，塔彭丝。”
“这是推理，”塔彭丝十分严肃地说，“这是你的首场‘斗牛’表演，我的朋友，但是当你在赛场站足二十分钟后——”
汤米把椅垫向她扔过去。
Twelve THE HOUSE OF LURKING DEATH（2）
II
“Tuppence, I say, Tuppence, come here.”
It was breakfast time the next morning. Tuppence hurried out of herbedroom and into the dining room. Tommy was striding up and down, theopen newspaper in his hand.
“What’s the matter?”
Tommy wheeled round, and shoved the paper into her hand, pointing tothe headlines.
MYSTERIOUS POISONING CASE
DEATHS FROM FIG SANDWICHES
Tuppence read on. This mysterious outbreak of ptomaine poisoning hadoccurred at Thurnly Grange. The deaths so far reported were those of MissLois Hargreaves, the owner of the house, and the parlourmaid, EstherQuant. A Captain Radclyffe and a Miss Logan were reported to be seri-ously ill. The cause of the outbreak was supposed to be some fig paste usedin sandwiches, since another lady, a Miss Chilcott, who had not partakenof these was reported to be quite well.
“We must get down there at once,” said Tommy. “That girl! That per-fectly ripping girl! Why the devil didn’t I go straight down there with heryesterday?”
“If you had,” said Tuppence, “you’d probably have eaten fig sandwichestoo for tea, and then you’d have been dead. Come on, let’s start at once. Isee it says that Dennis Radclyffe is seriously ill also.”
“Probably shamming, the dirty blackguard.”
They arrived at the small village of Thurnly about midday. An elderlywoman with red eyes opened the door to them when they arrived atThurnly Grange.
“Look here,” said Tommy quickly before she could speak. “I’m not a re-porter or anything like that. Miss Hargreaves came to see me yesterday,and asked me to come down here. Is there anyone I can see?”
“Dr. Burton is here now, if you’d like to speak to him,” said the womandoubtfully. “Or Miss Chilcott. She’s making all the arrangements.”
But Tommy had caught at the first suggestion.
“Dr. Burton,” he said authoritatively. “I should like to see him at once ifhe is here.”
The woman showed them into a small morning room. Five minutes laterthe door opened, and a tall, elderly man with bent shoulders and a kind,but worried face, came in.
“Dr. Burton,” said Tommy. He produced his professional card. “MissHargreaves called on me yesterday with reference to those poisonedchocolates. I came down to investigate the matter at her request—alas! toolate.”
The doctor looked at him keenly.
“You are Mr. Blunt himself?”
“Yes. This is my assistant, Miss Robinson.”
The doctor bowed to Tuppence.
“Under the circumstances, there is no need for reticence. But for theepisode of the chocolates, I might have believed these deaths to be the res-ult of severe ptomaine poisoning—but ptomaine poisoning of an unusu-ally virulent kind. There is gastrointestinal inflammation and haemor-rhage. As it is, I am taking the fig paste to be analysed.”
“You suspect arsenic poisoning?”
“No. The poison, if a poison has been employed, is something far morepotent and swift in its action. It looks more like some powerful vegetabletoxin.”
“I see. I should like to ask you, Dr. Burton, whether you are thoroughlyconvinced that Captain Radclyffe is suffering from the same form of pois-oning?”
The doctor looked at him.
“Captain Radclyffe is not suffering from any sort of poisoning now.”
“Aha,” said Tommy. “I—”
“Captain Radclyffe died at five o’clock this morning.”
Tommy was utterly taken aback. The doctor prepared to depart.
“And the other victim, Miss Logan?” asked Tuppence.
“I have every reason to hope that she will recover since she has sur-vived so far. Being an older woman, the poison seems to have had less ef-fect on her. I will let you know the result of the analysis, Mr. Blunt. In themeantime, Miss Chilcott, will, I am sure, tell you anything you want toknow.”
As he spoke, the door opened, and a girl appeared. She was tall, with atanned face, and steady blue eyes.
Dr. Burton performed the necessary introductions.
“I am glad you have come, Mr. Blunt,” said Mary Chilcott. “This affairseems too terrible. Is there anything you want to know that I can tell you?”
“Where did the fig paste come from?”
“It is a special kind that comes from London. We often have it. No onesuspected that this particular pot differed from any of the others. Person-ally I dislike the flavour of figs. That explains my immunity. I cannot un-derstand how Dennis was affected, since he was out for tea. He must havepicked up a sandwich when he came home, I suppose.”
Tommy felt Tuppence’s hand press his arm ever so slightly.
“What time did he come in?” he asked.
“I don’t really know. I could find out.”
“Thank you, Miss Chilcott. It doesn’t matter. You have no objection, Ihope, to my questioning the servants?”
“Please do anything you like, Mr. Blunt. I am nearly distraught. Tell me—you don’t think there has been—foul play?”
Her eyes were very anxious, as she put the question.
“I don’t know what to think. We shall soon know.”
“Yes, I suppose Dr. Burton will have the paste analysed.”
Quickly excusing herself, she went out by the window to speak to one ofthe gardeners.
“You take the housemaids, Tuppence,” said Tommy, “and I’ll find myway to the kitchen. I say, Miss Chilcott may feel very distraught, but shedoesn’t look it.”
Tuppence nodded assent without replying.
Husband and wife met half an hour later.
“Now to pool results,” said Tommy. “The sandwiches came out for tea,and the parlourmaid ate one—that’s how she got it in the neck. Cook ispositive Dennis Radclyffe hadn’t returned when tea was cleared away.
Query—how did he get poisoned?”
“He came in at a quarter to seven,” said Tuppence. “Housemaid saw himfrom one of the windows. He had a cocktail before dinner—in the library.
She was just clearing away the glass now, and luckily I got it from her be-fore she washed it. It was after that that he complained of feeling ill.”
“Good,” said Tommy. “I’ll take that glass along to Burton, presently. Any-thing else?”
“I’d like you to see Hannah, the maid. She’s—she’s queer.”
“How do you mean—queer?”
“She looks to me as though she were going off her head.”
“Let me see her.”
Tuppence led the way upstairs. Hannah had a small sitting room of herown. The maid sat upright on a high chair. On her knees was an openBible. She did not look towards the two strangers as they entered. Insteadshe continued to read aloud to herself.
“Let hot burning coals fall upon them, let them be cast into the fire and intothe pit, that they never rise up again.”
“May I speak to you a minute?” asked Tommy.
Hannah made an impatient gesture with her hand.
“This is no time. The time is running short, I say. I will follow upon mineenemies and overtake them, neither will I turn again till I have destroyedthem. So it is written. The word of the Lord has come to me. I am thescourge of the Lord.”
“Mad as a hatter,” murmured Tommy.
“She’s been going on like that all the time,” whispered Tuppence.
Tommy picked up a book that was lying open, face downwards on thetable. He glanced at the title and slipped it into his pocket.
Suddenly the old woman rose and turned towards them menacingly.
“Go out from here. The time is at hand! I am the flail of the Lord. Thewind bloweth where it listeth—so do I destroy. The ungodly shall perish.
This is a house of evil—of evil, I tell you! Beware of the wrath of the Lordwhose handmaiden I am.”
She advanced upon them fiercely. Tommy thought it best to humour herand withdrew. As he closed the door, he saw her pick up the Bible again.
“I wonder if she’s always been like that,” he muttered.
He drew from his pocket the book he had picked up off the table.
“Look at that. Funny reading for an ignorant maid.”
Tuppence took the book.
“Materia Medica,” she murmured. She looked at the flyleaf, “Edward Lo-gan. It’s an old book. Tommy, I wonder if we could see Miss Logan? Dr.
Burton said she was better.”
“Shall we ask Miss Chilcott?”
“No. Let’s get hold of a housemaid, and send her in to ask.”
After a brief delay, they were informed that Miss Logan would see them.
They were taken into a big bedroom facing over the lawn. In the bed wasan old lady with white hair, her delicate face drawn by suffering.
“I have been very ill,” she said faintly. “And I can’t talk much, but Ellentells me you are detectives. Lois went to consult you then? She spoke ofdoing so.”
“Yes, Miss Logan,” said Tommy. “We don’t want to tire you, but perhapsyou can answer a few questions. The maid, Hannah, is she quite right inher head?”
Miss Logan looked at them with obvious surprise.
“Oh, yes. She is very religious—but there is nothing wrong with her.”
Tommy held out the book he had taken from the table.
“Is this yours, Miss Logan?”
“Yes. It was one of my father’s books. He was a great doctor, one of thepioneers of serum therapeutics.”
The old lady’s voice rang with pride.
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “I thought I knew his name.” he added menda-ciously. “This book now, did you lend it to Hannah?”
“To Hannah?” Miss Logan raised herself in bed with indignation. “No,indeed. She wouldn’t understand the first word of it. It is a highly tech-nical book.”
“Yes. I see that. Yet I found it in Hannah’s room.”
“Disgraceful,” said Miss Logan. “I will not have the servants touching mythings.”
“Where ought it to be?”
“In the bookshelf in my sitting room—or—stay, I lent it to Mary. Thedear girl is very interested in herbs. She has made one or two experimentsin my little kitchen. I have a little place of my own, you know, where Ibrew liqueurs and make preserves in the old-fashioned way. Dear Lucy,Lady Radclyffe, you know, used to swear by my tansy tea—a wonderfulthing for a cold in the head. Poor Lucy, she was subject to colds. So is Den-nis. Dear boy, his father was my first cousin.”
Tommy interrupted these reminiscences.
“This kitchen of yours? Does anyone else use it except you and Miss Chil-cott?”
“Hannah clears up there. And she boils the kettle there for our earlymorning tea.”
“Thank you, Miss Logan,” said Tommy. “There is nothing more I want toask you at present. I hope we haven’t tired you too much.”
He left the room and went down the stairs, frowning to himself.
“There is something here, my dear Mr. Ricardo, that I do not under-stand.”
“I hate this house,” said Tuppence with a shiver. “Let’s go for a goodlong walk and try to think things out.”
Tommy complied and they set out. First they left the cocktail glass at thedoctor’s house, and then set off for a good tramp across the country, dis-cussing the case as they did so.
“It makes it easier somehow if one plays the fool,” said Tommy. “All thisHanaud business. I suppose some people would think I didn’t care. But Ido, most awfully. I feel that somehow or other we ought to have preventedthis.”
“I think that’s foolish of you,” said Tuppence. “It is not as though we ad-vised Lois Hargreaves not to go to Scotland Yard or anything like that.
Nothing would have induced her to bring the police into the matter. If shehadn’t come to us, she would have done nothing at all.”
“And the result would have been the same. Yes, you are right, Tuppence.
It’s morbid to reproach oneself over something one couldn’t help. What Iwould like to do is to make good now.”
“And that’s not going to be easy.”
“No, it isn’t. There are so many possibilities, and yet all of them seemwild and improbable. Supposing Dennis Radclyffe put the poison in thesandwiches. He knew he would be out to tea. That seems fairly plain sail-ing.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “that’s all right so far. Then we can put againstthat the fact that he was poisoned himself—so that seems to rule him out.
There is one person we mustn’t forget—and that is Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“People do all sorts of queer things when they have religious mania.”
“She is pretty far gone with it too,” said Tommy. “You ought to drop aword to Dr. Burton about it.”
“It must have come on very rapidly,” said Tuppence. “That is if we go bywhat Miss Logan said.”
“I believe religious mania does,” said Tommy. “I mean, you go onsinging hymns in your bedroom with the door open for years, and thenyou go suddenly right over the line and become violent.”
“There is certainly more evidence against Hannah than against anybodyelse,” said Tuppence thoughtfully. “And yet I have an idea—” She stopped.
“Yes?” said Tommy encouragingly.
“It is not really an idea. I suppose it is just a prejudice.”
“A prejudice against someone?”
Tuppence nodded.
“Tommy—did you like Mary Chilcott?”
Tommy considered.
“Yes, I think I did. She struck me as extremely capable and businesslike—perhaps a shade too much so—but very reliable.”
“You didn’t think it was odd that she didn’t seem more upset?”
“Well, in a way that is a point in her favour. I mean, if she had done any-thing, she would make a point of being upset—lay it on rather thick.”
“I suppose so,” said Tuppence. “And anyway there doesn’t seem to beany motive in her case. One doesn’t see what good this wholesaleslaughter can do her.”
“I suppose none of the servants are concerned?”
“It doesn’t seem likely. They seem a quiet, reliable lot. I wonder what Es-ther Quant, the parlourmaid, was like.”
“You mean, that if she was young and good-looking there was a chancethat she was mixed up in it some way.”
“That is what I mean,” Tuppence sighed. “It is all very discouraging.”
“Well, I suppose the police will get down to it all right,” said Tommy.
“Probably. I should like it to be us. By the way, did you notice a lot ofsmall red dots on Miss Logan’s arm?”
“I don’t think I did. What about them?”
“They looked as though they were made by a hypodermic syringe,” saidTuppence.
“Probably Dr. Burton gave her a hypodermic injection of some kind.”
“Oh, very likely. But he wouldn’t give her about forty.”
“The cocaine habit,” suggested Tommy helpfully.
“I thought of that,” said Tuppence, “but her eyes were all right. Youcould see at once if it was cocaine or morphia. Besides, she doesn’t lookthat sort of old lady.”
“Most respectable and God-fearing,” agreed Tommy.
“It is all very difficult,” said Tuppence. “We have talked and talked andwe don’t seem any nearer now than we were. Don’t let’s forget to call atthe doctor’s on our way home.”
The doctor’s door was opened by a lanky boy of about fifteen.
“Mr. Blunt?” he inquired. “Yes, the doctor is out, but he left a note foryou in case you should call.”
He handed them the note in question and Tommy tore it open.
Dear Mr. Blunt,
There is reason to believe that the poison employed was Ri-cin, a vegetable toxalbumose of tremendous potency.
Please keep this to yourself for the present.
Tommy let the note drop, but picked it up quickly.
“Ricin,” he murmured. “Know anything about it, Tuppence? You used tobe rather well-up in these things.”
“Ricin,” said Tuppence, thoughtfully. “You get it out of castor oil, I be-lieve.”
“I never did take kindly to castor oil,” said Tommy. “I am more setagainst it than ever now.”
“The oil’s all right. You get Ricin from the seeds of the castor oil plant. Ibelieve I saw some castor oil plants in the garden this morning—big thingswith glossy leaves.”
“You mean that someone extracted the stuff on the premises. CouldHannah do such a thing?”
Tuppence shook her head.
“Doesn’t seem likely. She wouldn’t know enough.”
Suddenly Tommy gave an exclamation.
“That book. Have I got it in my pocket still? Yes.” He took it out, andturned over the leaves vehemently. “I thought so. Here’s the page it wasopen at this morning. Do you see, Tuppence? Ricin!”
Tuppence seized the book from him.
“Can you make head or tail of it? I can’t.”
“It’s clear enough to me,” said Tuppence. She walked along, readingbusily, with one hand on Tommy’s arm to steer herself. Presently she shutthe book with a bang. They were just approaching the house again.
“Tommy, will you leave this to me? Just for once, you see, I am the bullthat has been more than twenty minutes in the arena.”
Tommy nodded.
“You shall be the Captain of the Ship, Tuppence,” he said gravely.
“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”
“First of all,” said Tuppence as they entered the house, “I must ask MissLogan one more question.”
She ran upstairs. Tommy followed her. She rapped sharply on the oldlady’s door and went in.
“Is that you, my dear?” said Miss Logan. “You know you are much tooyoung and pretty to be a detective. Have you found out anything?”
“Yes,” said Tuppence. “I have.”
Miss Logan looked at her questioningly.
“I don’t know about being pretty,” went on Tuppence, “but being young,I happened to work in a hospital during the War. I know something aboutserum therapeutics. I happen to know that when Ricin is injected in smalldoses hypodermically, immunity is produced, antiricin is formed. Thatfact paved the way for the foundation of serum therapeutics. You knewthat, Miss Logan. You injected Ricin for some time hypodermically intoyourself. Then you let yourself be poisoned with the rest. You helped yourfather in his work, and you knew all about Ricin and how to obtain it andextract it from the seeds. You chose a day when Dennis Radclyffe was outfor tea. It wouldn’t do for him to be poisoned at the same time—he mightdie before Lois Hargreaves. So long as she died first, he inherited hermoney, and at his death it passes to you, his next-of-kin. You remember,you told us this morning that his father was your first cousin.”
The old lady stared at Tuppence with baleful eyes.
Suddenly a wild figure burst in from the adjoining room. It was Hannah.
In her hand she held a lighted torch which she waved frantically.
“Truth has been spoken. That is the wicked one. I saw her reading thebook and smiling to herself and I knew. I found the book and the page—but it said nothing to me. But the voice of the Lord spoke to me. She hatedmy mistress, her ladyship. She was always jealous and envious. She hatedmy own sweet Miss Lois. But the wicked shall perish, the fire of the Lordshall consume them.”
Waving her torch she sprang forward to the bed.
A cry arose from the old lady.
“Take her away—take her away. It’s true—but take her away.”
Tuppence flung herself upon Hannah, but the woman managed to setfire to the curtains of the bed before Tuppence could get the torch fromher and stamp on it. Tommy, however, had rushed in from the landingoutside. He tore down the bed hangings and managed to stifle the flameswith a rug. Then he rushed to Tuppence’s assistance, and between themthey subdued Hannah just as Dr. Burton came hurrying in.
A very few words sufficed to put him au courant of the situation.
He hurried to the bedside, lifted Miss Logan’s hand, then uttered a sharpexclamation.
“The shock of fire has been too much for her. She’s dead. Perhaps it is aswell under the circumstances.”
He paused, and then added, “There was Ricin in the cocktail glass aswell.”
“It’s the best thing that could have happened,” said Tommy, when theyhad relinquished Hannah to the doctor’s care, and were alone together.
“Tuppence, you were simply marvellous.”
“There wasn’t much Hanaud about it,” said Tuppence.
“It was too serious for playacting. I still can’t bear to think of that girl. Iwon’t think of her. But, as I said before, you were marvellous. The hon-ours are with you. To use a familiar quotation, ‘It is a great advantage tobe intelligent and not to look it.’ ”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, “you’re a beast.”
Twelve THE HOUSE OF LURKING DEATH（1）
Twelve THE HOUSE OF LURKING DEATH

“What—” began Tuppence, and then stopped.
She had just entered the private office of Mr. Blunt from the adjoiningone marked “Clerks,” and was surprised to behold her lord and masterwith his eye riveted to the private peephole into the outer office.
“Ssh,” said Tommy warningly. “Didn’t you hear the buzzer? It’s a girl—rather a nice girl—in fact she looks to me a frightfully nice girl. Albert istelling her all that tosh about my being engaged with Scotland Yard.”
“Let me see,” demanded Tuppence.
Somewhat unwillingly, Tommy moved aside. Tuppence in her turnglued her eye to the peephole.
“She’s not bad,” admitted Tuppence. “And her clothes are simply thelatest shout.”
“She’s perfectly lovely,” said Tommy. “She’s like those girls Mason writesabout—you know, frightfully sympathetic, and beautiful, and distinctly in-telligent without being too saucy. I think, yes—I certainly think—I shall bethe great Hanaud this morning.”
“H’m,” said Tuppence. “If there is one detective out of all the otherswhom you are most unlike—I should say it was Hanaud. Can you do thelightning changes of personality? Can you be the great comedian, the littlegutter boy, the serious and sympathetic friend—all in five minutes?”
“I know this,” said Tommy, rapping sharply on the desk, “I am the Cap-tain of the Ship—and don’t you forget it, Tuppence. I’m going to have herin.”
He pressed the buzzer on his desk. Albert appeared ushering in the cli-ent.
The girl stopped in the doorway as though undecided. Tommy came for-ward.
“Come in, mademoiselle,” he said kindly, “and seat yourself here.”
Tuppence choked audibly and Tommy turned upon her with a swiftchange of manner. His tone was menacing.
“You spoke, Miss Robinson? Ah, no, I thought not.”
He turned back to the girl.
“We will not be serious or formal,” he said. “You will just tell me aboutit, and then we will discuss the best way to help you.”
“You are very kind,” said the girl. “Excuse me, but are you a foreigner?”
A fresh choke from Tuppence. Tommy glared in her direction out of thecorner of his eye.
“Not exactly,” he said with difficulty. “But of late years I have worked agood deal abroad. My methods are the methods of the S?reté.”
“Oh!” The girl seemed impressed.
She was, as Tommy had indicated, a very charming girl. Young and slim,with a trace of golden hair peeping out from under her little brown felthat, and big serious eyes.
That she was nervous could be plainly seen. Her little hands were twist-ing themselves together, and she kept clasping and unclasping the catch ofher lacquered handbag.
“First of all, Mr. Blunt, I must tell you that my name is Lois Hargreaves. Ilive in a great rambling old-fashioned house called Thurnly Grange. It is inthe heart of the country. There is the village of Thurnly nearby, but it isvery small and insignificant. There is plenty of hunting in winter, and weget tennis in summer, and I have never felt lonely there. Indeed I muchprefer country to town life.
“I tell you this so that you may realise that in a country village like ours,everything that happens is of supreme importance. About a week ago, Igot a box of chocolates sent through the post. There was nothing inside toindicate who they came from. Now I myself am not particularly fond ofchocolates, but the others in the house are, and the box was passed round.
As a result, everyone who had eaten any chocolates was taken ill. We sentfor the doctor, and after various inquiries as to what other things hadbeen eaten, he took the remains of the chocolates away with him, and hadthem analysed. Mr. Blunt, those chocolates contained arsenic! Not enoughto kill anyone, but enough to make anyone quite ill.”
“Extraordinary,” commented Tommy.
“Dr. Burton was very excited over the matter. It seems that this was thethird occurrence of the kind in the neighbourhood. In each case a bighouse was selected, and the inmates were taken ill after eating the myster-ious chocolates. It looked as though some local person of weak intellectwas playing a particularly fiendish practical joke.”
“Quite so, Miss Hargreaves.”
“Dr. Burton put it down to Socialist agitation — rather absurdly, Ithought. But there are one or two malcontents in Thurnly village, and itseemed possible that they might have had something to do with it. Dr. Bur-ton was very keen that I should put the whole thing in the hands of the po-lice.”
“A very natural suggestion,” said Tommy. “But you have not done so, Igather, Miss Hargreaves?”
“No,” admitted the girl. “I hate the fuss and the publicity that would en-sue—and you see, I know our local Inspector. I can never imagine himfinding out anything! I have often seen your advertisements, and I told Dr.
Burton that it would be much better to call in a private detective.”
“I see.”
“You say a great deal about discretion in your advertisement. I take thatto mean—that—that—well, that you would not make anything publicwithout my consent?”
Tommy looked at her curiously, but it was Tuppence who spoke.
“I think,” she said quietly, “that it would be as well if Miss Hargreavestold us everything.”
She laid especial stress upon the last word, and Lois Hargreaves flushednervously.
“Yes,” said Tommy quickly, “Miss Robinson is right. You must tell useverything.”
“You will not—” she hesitated.
“Everything you say is understood to be strictly in confidence.”
“Thank you. I know that I ought to have been quite frank with you. Ihave a reason for not going to the police. Mr. Blunt, that box of chocolateswas sent by someone in our house!”
“How do you know that, mademoiselle?”
“It’s very simple. I’ve got a habit of drawing a little silly thing—three fishintertwined—whenever I have a pencil in my hand. A parcel of silk stock-ings arrived from a certain shop in London not long ago. We were at thebreakfast table. I’d just been marking something in the newspaper, andwithout thinking, I began to draw my silly little fish on the label of the par-cel before cutting the string and opening it. I thought no more about thematter, but when I was examining the piece of brown paper in which thechocolates had been sent, I caught sight of the corner of the original label—most of which had been torn off. My silly little drawing was on it.”
Tommy drew his chair forward.
“That is very serious. It creates, as you say, a very strong presumptionthat the sender of the chocolates is a member of your household. But youwill forgive me if I say that I still do not see why that fact should renderyou indisposed to call in the police?”
Lois Hargreaves looked him squarely in the face.
“I will tell you, Mr. Blunt. I may want the whole thing hushed up.”
Tommy retired gracefully from the position.
“In that case,” he murmured, “we know where we are. I see, Miss Har-greaves, that you are not disposed to tell me who it is you suspect?”
“I suspect no one—but there are possibilities.”
“Quite so. Now will you describe the household to me in detail?”
“The servants, with the exception of the parlourmaid, are all old oneswho have been with us many years. I must explain to you, Mr. Blunt, that Iwas brought up by my aunt, Lady Radclyffe, who was extremely wealthy.
Her husband made a big fortune, and was knighted. It was he who boughtThurnly Grange, but he died two years after going there, and it was thenthat Lady Radclyffe sent for me to come and make my home with her. Iwas her only living relation. The other inmate of the house was DennisRadclyffe, her husband’s nephew. I have always called him cousin, but ofcourse he is really nothing of the kind. Aunt Lucy always said openly thatshe intended to leave her money, with the exception of a small provisionfor me, to Dennis. It was Radclyffe money, she said, and it ought to go to aRadclyffe. However, when Dennis was twenty- two, she quarrelled viol-ently with him—over some debts that he had run up, I think. When shedied, a year later, I was astonished to find that she had made a will leavingall her money to me. It was, I know, a great blow to Dennis, and I felt verybadly about it. I would have given him the money if he would have takenit, but it seems that kind of thing can’t be done. However, as soon as I wastwenty-one, I made a will leaving it all to him. That’s the least I can do. Soif I’m run over by a motor, Dennis will come into his own.”
“Exactly,” said Tommy. “And when were you twenty-one, if I may askthe question?”
“Just three weeks ago.”
“Ah!” said Tommy. “Now will you give me fuller particulars of the mem-bers of your household at this minute?”
“Servants—or—others?”
“Both.”
“The servants, as I say, have been with us some time. There is old Mrs.
Holloway, the cook, and her niece Rose, the kitchenmaid. Then there aretwo elderly housemaids, and Hannah who was my aunt’s maid and whohas always been devoted to me. The parlourmaid is called Esther Quant,and seems a very nice quiet girl. As for ourselves, there is Miss Logan, whowas Aunt Lucy’s companion, and who runs the house for me, and CaptainRadclyffe—Dennis, you know, whom I told you about, and there is a girlcalled Mary Chilcott, an old school friend of mine who is staying with us.”
Tommy thought for a moment.
“That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves,” hesaid after a minute or two. “I take it that you have no special reason for at-taching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only afraid itmight prove to be—well—not a servant, shall we say?”
“That’s it exactly, Mr. Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that pieceof brown paper. The handwriting was printed.”
“There seems only one thing to be done,” said Tommy. “I must be on thespot.”
The girl looked at him inquiringly.
Tommy went on after a moment’s thought.
“I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of—say, Mr. and MissVan Dusen—American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that quitenaturally?”
“Oh, yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come down—tomorrow—or the day after?”
“Tomorrow, if you please. There is no time to waste.”
“That is settled then.”
The girl rose and held out her hand.
“One thing, Miss Hargreaves, not a word, mind, to anyone—anyone atall, that we are not what we seem.”
“What do you think of it, Tuppence?” he asked, when he returned fromshowing the visitor out.
“I don’t like it,” said Tuppence decidedly. “Especially I don’t like thechocolates having so little arsenic in them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you see? All those chocolates being sent round the neighbour-hood were a blind. To establish the idea of a local maniac. Then, when thegirl was really poisoned, it would be thought to be the same thing. You see,but for a stroke of luck, no one would ever have guessed that the chocol-ates were actually sent by someone in the house itself.”
“That was a stroke of luck. You’re right. You think it’s a deliberate plotagainst the girl herself?”
“I’m afraid so. I remember reading about old Lady Radclyffe’s will. Thatgirl has come into a terrific lot of money.”
“Yes, and she came of age and made a will three weeks ago. It looks bad—for Dennis Radclyffe. He gains by her death.”
Tuppence nodded.
“The worst of it is—that she thinks so too! That’s why she won’t have thepolice called in. Already she suspects him. And she must be more than halfin love with him to act as she has done.”
“In that case,” said Tommy thoughtfully, “why the devil doesn’t hemarry her? Much simpler and safer.”
Tuppence stared at him.
“You’ve said a mouthful,” she observed. “Oh, boy! I’m getting ready to beMiss Van Dusen, you observe.”
“Why rush to crime, when there is a lawful means near at hand?”
Tuppence reflected for a minute or two.
“I’ve got it,” she announced. “Clearly he must have married a barmaidwhilst at Oxford. Origin of the quarrel with his aunt. That explainseverything.”
“Then why not send the poisoned sweets to the barmaid?” suggestedTommy. “Much more practical. I wish you wouldn’t jump to these wildconclusions, Tuppence.”
“They’re deductions,” said Tuppence, with a good deal of dignity. “Thisis your first corrida, my friend, but when you have been twenty minutesin the arena—”
Tommy flung the office cushion at her.
第十二章 杀机暗伏的房子（2）
2“塔彭丝，我说，塔彭丝，过来。”
第二天早餐时间，塔彭丝急匆匆地出了卧室，冲进餐厅。汤米来回踱步，手中拿着一张打开的报纸。
“怎么啦？”
汤米转过身来，把报纸塞到她手里，指着一行标题：
神秘的中毒事件——一块无花果三明治带来的死亡
塔彭丝继续读下去。这桩神秘的食物中毒事件发生在索恩利农场。据报道至今已死亡的有洛伊斯•哈格里夫小姐——这所房子的主人；客厅女仆埃斯特昆特。另据报道，德拉格利夫上尉和一位洛根小姐中毒十分严重。据推测，这个突发事件的罪魁祸首是一些用在三明治中的无花果酱。另一位女士，齐克特女士，没有吃这些三明治，因此安然无恙。
“我们必须立刻赶到那儿。”汤米说，“那个女孩！那么漂亮的女孩！我昨天为什么没有直接跟她去那儿呀！”
“如果你去了，”塔彭丝说，“你可能也会吃那些无花果三明治做茶点，然后也一命呜呼。来吧，我们马上出发。我看上面说德拉克利夫上尉的情况也十分严重。”
“可能是装的，这个肮脏的恶棍。”
他们大约中午时分到达小小的索恩利镇。他们到达索恩利农庄时，一位年长的妇女，双眼通红地来为他们开门。
“听我说，”她还没开口，汤米急忙说，“我不是记者之流，哈格里夫小姐昨天去找我，要求我来这儿一趟。我可以见见什么人吗？”
“伯顿医生现在在这儿，如果您想和他谈谈的话，”这个女人没有把握地说，“或者齐克特小姐，她负责安排这儿的一切。”
但是汤米对第一个建议更感兴趣。
“伯顿医生，”他命令式地说，“我想马上见到他，如果他在这儿的话。”
这个女人把他们带到一间小小的起居室。五分钟后，门开了，一位年长的高个儿男人走进来，他有些驼背，脸色和蔼，但十分焦虑。
“伯顿医生，”汤米说，继续打他的专业牌，“哈格里夫小姐昨天来找我，咨询关于那些毒巧克力的问题。我来调查她咨询的事件——天呀，来得太晚了。”
这位医生目光锐利地看着他。
“您是布兰特先生本人？”
“是的，这位是我的助理，鲁宾孙小姐。”
医生向塔彭丝弯了弯腰。
“既然如此，就没有必要保密了。但是关于巧克力的小插曲，我本来认为是严重的食物中毒——但这是一种很罕见的剧毒，会产生胃肠炎症和出血症状。事实上，我正要把这些无花果酱取样好拿去分析。”
“那您怀疑是砒霜中毒？”
“不，如果真用了什么毒药的话，一定是某种药效更强、发作更快的毒药。看起来更像某种有剧毒的植物类毒素。”
“我明白了，我想请教您，伯顿医生，您是否十分确定德拉克利夫上尉中的是同一种毒？”
医生看着他。
“德拉克利夫上尉现在已经摆脱中毒的痛苦了。”
“啊哈，”汤米说，“我——”
“德拉克利夫上尉今天早晨五点死了。”
汤米目瞪口呆，那位医生准备离开。
“那另一位受害者情况如何，洛根小姐？”塔彭丝说。
“我有充分的理由相信她会好转，既然她现在已经脱离了危险。作为一位老妇人，毒药似乎对她的药效要弱些，我会让您知道分析结果的，布兰特先生，同时，我相信齐克特小姐，会告诉您想知道的一切。”
当他说话时，门开了，一个姑娘走进来。她个子高挑，棕色皮肤，蓝色眼睛镇定沉着。
伯顿医生给他们做了必要的介绍。
“我很高兴您来了，布兰特先生，”玛丽•齐克特说，“这件事太可怕了，您想了解什么事情，我知无不言？”
“无花果酱从哪儿来的？”
“这是来自伦敦的一种特制果酱。我们经常用。没有人怀疑这一罐和其他的有什么不同。我个人不喜欢无花果。这就是我为什么得以幸免。我弄不清楚为什么丹尼斯也会中毒，既然他当时出去喝茶了。看来他一定是回家时拿了一块三明治，我猜。”
汤米感觉到塔彭丝的手紧紧地抓着他的胳膊。
“他什么时候回来的？”他问。
“我真不知道，但我可以去问一问。”
“谢谢你，齐克特小姐，没关系。我希望您不反对我问仆人们几个问题？”
“您随意，布兰特先生，我都要发狂了。告诉我——您不认为这是——一起谋杀吧？”
当她提出这个问题时，眼神十分急切。
“我不知道该怎么认为，不过我们很快就会知道。”
“是的，我想伯顿医生也会化验这罐果酱。”
说了声“请原谅”，她走去窗边和一位园丁谈话。
“你负责对付那些女仆们，塔彭丝，”汤米说，“我去厨房。齐克特小姐说她都要发疯了，但是我看她可不像。”
塔彭丝点头赞同，但没有说话。
这夫妇俩半个小时后再次碰头。
“现在咱们一起梳理结果，”汤米说，“三明治是用来做茶点的，女仆吃了一整块——这就是为什么她死得最惨。厨师很麻利，丹尼斯•德拉克利夫还没有回来，茶点就被收拾了。
那么——他是怎么中毒的？”
“他在七点差一刻时进来，”塔彭丝说，“女仆们透过一扇窗户看见了他。他晚餐前喝了一杯酒——在书房。她刚刚收拾了那个杯子，幸运的是，在她洗杯子前我拿到了这个杯子。喝完这杯酒，他就嚷着不舒服。”
“好，”汤米说，“我把杯子拿给伯顿医生，马上，还有别的吗？”
“我想让你去见见汉娜，就是那个女伴，她是——她是个怪人。”
“你的意思是——怪人？”
“我看她似乎精神不太正常。”
“让我去看看。”
塔彭丝带他上了楼。汉娜自己有一间单独的小卧室。这位女仆挺直身体坐在一把高背椅子上，膝盖上放着一本打开的《圣经》。他们进来时，她看也没看这两位陌生人，而是继续大声读着：
“愿火炭落在他们身上。愿熊熊火焰把他们熔化，愿他们被抛入地狱，永世不得翻身。” [2]
“我能和您谈一会儿吗？”汤米说。
汉娜不耐烦地挥了下手。
“没有时间。时间正在流逝，‘我会追踪我的敌人，战胜他们，不摧毁他们不回还。’书上是这样写的，上帝的话已经在我这儿应验了，我就是上帝惩罚罪孽的工具。”
“一个孤独的疯子。”汤米低声道。
“她一直都这个样子。”塔彭丝也小声说。
汤米拿起一本书，这本书一直打开扣在桌子上。他看了一眼书名，然后把书悄悄放进自己口袋里。
这个老太太突然站起来，气势汹汹地朝他们走来。
“出去。马上到时间了！我是上帝的枷锁，风任意刮着——我也一样要被摧毁。所有不敬神的人都要被毁灭。这是个邪恶的房子——邪恶的，我告诉你们！当心啊，上帝已经发怒，我是他的女仆。”
她狂暴地扑向他们。汤米认为这时最好别去招惹她，走为上策。当他俩出去关上门，他看到她再次拿起《圣经》。
“我怀疑她是不是一直这样。”他咕哝道。
他从口袋里抽出刚才从那张桌子上拿的书。
“看这个，真奇怪一位无知的女仆会读这种书。”
塔彭丝拿起那本书。
“《药物学》，”她小声念道，然后翻到扉页，“爱德华•洛根。这是本旧书，汤米，我想我们是否应该见一见洛根小姐？伯顿医生说她好一些了。”
“我们先征求一下齐克特小姐的意见？”
“不，我们先找位女仆打听一下。”
一小会儿后，他们被告知洛根小姐愿意见面。他们被带进一间面对着草坪的大卧室。
床上躺着一位满头白发的老妇人，虚弱的脸上写满了痛苦。
“我病得厉害，”她虚弱地说，“不能说太多话，但是艾伦告诉我你们是侦探。洛伊斯去和您商谈了？她提到过要这么做。”
“是的，洛根小姐，”汤米说，“我们不想让您太疲劳，但是您或许能回答我几个问题。
那位女仆，汉娜，她精神正常吧？”
“哦，当然正常。她十分虔诚——但是头脑没有什么问题。”
汤米把从桌子上拿的那本书递过去。
“这是您的吧，洛根小姐？”
“是的，这是我父亲写的一本书。他是位伟大的医生，一位研究疫苗治疗的先驱。”
这位老妇人的语调里充满自豪。
“的确如此，”汤米说，“我想我听过他的大名。”他又试探地补充问道：“这本书，您借给汉娜了？”
“借给汉娜？”洛根有些愤慨地抬起身子，“没有，根本没有。她连一个字也不会理解的，那是一本十分专业的书。”
“是的，我看到了。但是我在汉娜的房间发现了这本书。”
“这太不光彩了，”洛根小姐说，“我从不允许仆人动我的东西。”
“那它本应该在哪儿？”
“在我卧室的书架上——或者——等等，我把它借给了玛丽。这个可爱的女孩对药草十分感兴趣。她在我的小厨房里做过一两个实验呢。不瞒您说，我自己也有个小厨房，在那儿我以古法酿酒或做点蜜饯。亲爱的露西，就是德拉克利夫女士，习惯喝我做的艾菊茶——绝妙的治疗头疼脑热的东西。可怜的露西，她过去总是感冒。丹尼斯也是这样，啊，可爱的孩子，他的父亲是我的表哥。”
汤米打断了她的这些回忆。
“您有一间厨房？除了您和齐克特小姐，还有谁用过它？”
“汉娜负责打扫那儿。她在那儿为我们煮早茶。”
“谢谢，洛根小姐，”汤米说，“目前我暂时没有什么要问您的了。我希望我们没有让您太受累。”
他们离开这个房间下了楼，汤米皱起了眉头。
“这里有些问题，亲爱的李嘉图先生，我不理解。”
“我讨厌这所房子，”塔彭丝打了个哆嗦，“我们出去散散步吧，试着理理头绪。”
汤米表示赞同，他俩走出房子。他们先把酒杯放到伯顿医生家，然后沿着乡间小路开始散步，讨论着手头的这桩案子。
“如果有个人扮演傻瓜的角色，案情会简单得多，”汤米说，“所有这类致人无辜死亡的事件均是如此。我想某些人可能认为我不在意这些。但是我在意，非常在意。我觉得我们应设法阻止这样的事情发生。”
“我认为你太傻了，”塔彭丝说，“好像不是我们建议洛伊斯不要去苏格兰场或者其他地方报警的吧？没有人劝她不要让警察插手这件事。如果她不来找我们，那她同样什么都做不了。”
“结果一样。是的，你是对的，塔彭丝。为一些无能为力的事情责备自己确是病态行为。我宁愿做好当下。”
“但是这恐怕也不容易。”
“是的，是不容易。这儿存在多种可能性，而这些可能性又看起来十分疯狂和不可思议。假设丹尼斯•德拉克利夫在三明治中投毒——他当然知道自己要出去喝茶——这似乎就顺理成章了。”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“这样就能全部说通。那么，我们又能推翻他服毒自杀这一点——所以似乎又应该排除他是凶手的嫌疑。还有一个人我们一定不要忽视——那就是汉娜。”
“汉娜？”
“当一个人狂热地信奉某种宗教时，总会做出各种奇怪的事情来。”
“她都快失心疯了，”汤米说，“你应该和伯顿医生谈一谈，看看他怎么说。”
“我们要尽快，”塔彭丝说，“如果从洛根小姐提供的情况着手的话。”
“我相信就是那个宗教狂人干的，”汤米说，“我的意思是，你多年来一直习惯敞着门在卧室里静心吟诵经文，然后突然间就走火入魔，变得暴戾无常？”
“对汉娜不利的证据肯定比对别人的多。”塔彭丝沉思地说，“但是我还有一个想法——”她停下来。
“什么？”汤米鼓励她。
“其实这个想法还不成熟，我想也许是出于某种偏见。”
“对某人的偏见？”
塔彭丝点点头。
“汤米——你喜欢玛丽•齐克特吗？”
汤米考虑了一下。
“是的，我想是的。她给我的印象是十分能干，认真——可能只是一种假象——但是我却发现不了一丝破绽。”
“难道你不觉得很奇怪吗，她似乎并不十分烦恼？”
“对，在某种程度上，这也是对她有利的一点。我的意思是，如果她真做过什么，她就会特别注意表现得很烦恼——表现得特别焦虑。”
“我想是的，”塔彭丝说，“而且，从她的角度来看，似乎也没有什么作案动机。没人能看出这场大肆谋杀对她有什么好处。”
“难道没有仆人参与？”
“看起来不太可能。他们似乎非常安静，可靠。我想知道埃斯特•昆特，那个客厅女仆，长得如何。”
“你的意思是，如果她年轻漂亮，那她就有可能在某种程度上与这个案子有关。”
“我正是这个意思，”塔彭丝叹了口气，“但事实却让人泄气。”
“好吧，我想警察会妥善处理的。”汤米说。
“可能吧。但我还是希望我们自己能处理。另外，你有没有注意到洛根小姐的胳膊上有许多小红点？”
“我还真没有注意到，什么样的红点？”
“看起来似乎是皮下注射造成的。”塔彭丝说。
“可能伯顿医生给她开了什么注射药吧。”
“哦，极有可能。但是他绝不会给她注射近四十支药吧。”
“那会不会是毒品注射？”汤米提出了一个貌似合理的建议。
“我也这样想过，”塔彭丝说，“但是她的眼睛却是正常的，如果吸食可卡因或吗啡，你一眼就能看出来，并且她看起来并不是那种老糊涂。”
“对，她看上去非常令人尊敬，对上帝很虔诚。”汤米赞同地说。
“这个案子挺复杂，”塔彭丝说，“我们谈来谈去，目前却并没有什么进展。我想，我们回去的路上应该拜访一下那位医生。”
一位大约十五岁的瘦高个儿少年打开了医生家的大门。
“布兰特先生？”他询问道，“医生出去了。但是他出去时给您留了张字条，万一您来访，就交给您。”
说着，他把刚刚提到的那张字条递给汤米，汤米随即将它打开：
亲爱的布兰特先生：
现在我有充分的理由证实所用毒药是蓖麻毒素，这是一种高毒性的植物蛋白。对此，请暂时绝对保密。
便条从汤米手中落下，他又迅速将其捡起来。
“蓖麻毒素，”他小声嘟囔着，“从没听说过吧，塔彭丝？你过去对这些东西可是比较在行。”
“蓖麻毒素，”塔彭丝沉思道，“从蓖麻油中提炼的，我相信。”
“我向来不喜欢蓖麻油，”汤米说，“现在更不喜欢了。”
“这种油本身并没有问题。蓖麻毒素从蓖麻的种子中提炼出来。我今天早晨在花园里看见了大量的蓖麻植株——高大的植株，长着光滑的大叶子。”
“你是说这房子里有人事先提炼出了这些物质，汉娜会不会做这样的事？”
塔彭丝摇了摇头。
“似乎不可能，她对这类事不会知道得这么多。”
突然汤米惊叫一声。
“是那本书。我口袋里还带着那本书吧？是的，”他拿出来，激动地翻看，“还在，这正是今天早晨翻开的那一页。你看，塔彭丝，蓖麻毒素！”
塔彭丝从他手中一把抓过那本书。
“你能看明白吧？反正我不能。”
“这还不容易。”塔彭丝说，她边走边快速地读着，一只手抓住汤米的胳膊好让自己能走稳些，很快她砰地扣上书本，他们又返回那所房子。
“汤米，你能把这个案子交给我来办吗？就这一次，你看，我现在比下场二十分钟的公牛更有斗志。”
汤米点点头。
“你是船长，塔彭丝，”他严肃地说，“我们要下潜到整个事件的最底层，把它查个水落石出。”
“首先，”他们刚进房子，塔彭丝就说，“我必须亲自再问洛根小姐一个问题。”
她跑上楼。汤米紧随其后。她一阵猛敲门，进入房间。
“是你吗，亲爱的？”洛根小姐说，“知道吗，你太年轻漂亮了，不适合做侦探。你这么急匆匆的，是发现什么情况了吗？”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“我确实发现了一点情况。”
洛根小姐疑惑地看着她。
“我不知道我究竟漂不漂亮，”塔彭丝继续说，“但是年轻的时候，战争时期我恰好在一所医院工作。我了解一些血清治疗的相关知识。我恰好知道皮下注射小剂量的蓖麻毒素，就会产生免疫力，蓖麻毒素抗体就会形成。这个事实为血清免疫学奠定了基础。您对此十分清楚，洛根小姐。您自己也隔一段时间就注射少许蓖麻毒素。然后您就让自己随其他人一起中毒。您协助父亲工作，自然知道怎么得到蓖麻毒素，怎样从种子中提炼出来。您选择了丹尼斯外出喝茶这一天下手。这样他就不会同时中毒——你可不希望他在洛伊斯•哈格里夫之前死去。只要她先死，他就可以继承她的钱。而他死后，这钱自然就归了您——您是他最近的亲属。您还记得吗，正是您今天上午告诉我们，他的父亲是您表哥。”
这位老妇人恶狠狠地盯着塔彭丝。
突然，从隔壁房间冲进了一个疯狂的身影，是汉娜，她手里疯狂挥舞着一个点燃的烛台。
“真相终于揭开了：就是这个邪恶的人干的。我看到她读那本书，还自顾自发笑。于是我找到这本书，翻到了她读的那一页——但是没有发现什么。不过，上帝的声音对我说，她恨我的女主人，那位令人尊敬的女士。她内心总是充满嫉妒和邪恶。她恨我们那位甜心洛伊斯小姐。但是恶人必要沉沦，耶和华的怒火终将会把他们烧成灰烬！”
她摇晃着烛台，向前扑到床上。
那位老妇人发出一声尖叫。
“拖开她——拖开她。事实如此——但是赶快带走她。”
塔彭丝冲向汉娜，但是这个女人还是挣扎着把火扔到帷帐上，塔彭丝没来得及从她手中抢走烛台，踏灭烛火。这时，汤米从外面楼梯平台冲了进来，他扯下着火的帐子，用一块小地毯扑灭了火焰。然后，他又急忙冲过去帮助塔彭丝，俩人合力制伏了狂暴的汉娜，这时伯顿医生急匆匆走了进来。
他处理这种情况的轻车熟路简直无法用语言来形容：
他冲到床边，举起洛根小姐的手，随后发出一声尖锐的叫喊：
“她受到了太大惊吓。她死了。可能这种情况下，死亡更好一些。”
他停顿了一下，然后又补充道：“那个酒杯里也有蓖麻毒素。”
“最终证明你是对的，”汤米说，当他们把汉娜交给医生照料，两人单独在一起时，“塔彭丝，你真是太了不起了。”
“汉娜并没有参与这个案子。”塔彭丝说。
“要演好戏可不容易。我还是忍不住想到那个女孩。可是，想也是徒劳，我不会再想了。但正如我刚才所说，你真了不起。荣誉属于你，俗话所说，‘不显山不露水的智慧，真是一大优势。’”
“汤米，”塔彭丝说，“你真是头困兽。”
[1]哈纳得探长（Inspector Hanaud），英国作家阿尔弗雷德•爱德华•梅森(A.E.Mason，1865—1948)创造的神探。首次登场于《玫瑰山庄命案》（At the Villa Rose），对待女士极为谦恭有礼。
[2]语出《圣经•诗篇》第一四〇篇。
第十六章 大使的靴子（1）
第十六章 大使的靴子
1“亲爱的老兄，老兄。”塔彭丝说，摇着手里的奶油松饼。
汤米看了她一两分钟，然后咧嘴一笑，低声道：
“我们应该特别小心谨慎。”
“当然，”塔彭丝愉快地说，“你不知道吧，我是大名鼎鼎的福琼博士，而你是贝尔警长[1] 。”
“为什么你是大名鼎鼎的福琼？”
“哦，那是因为我喜欢热黄油。”
“这只是让人高兴的一面，”汤米说，“但凡事都有另一面。你必须查验大量被严重毁容的脸，以及形形色色的尸体。”
塔彭丝没有回答，而是扔过来一封信。汤米看后吃惊地扬起眉头。
“伦道夫•威尔莫特。美国大使，他会有什么求我们帮忙呢。”
“明天十一点我们就知道了。”
第二天十一点钟，伦道夫•威尔莫特先生，美国驻英国大使，被准时引进布兰特的办公室。他清清喉咙，开始讲话，表情从容而有个性。
“我不得不亲自前来，布兰特先生——顺便问一下，您正是布兰特先生本人，对吗？”
“当然，”汤米说，“我正是西奥多•布兰特，这家机构的负责人。”
“我一向喜欢和部门负责人打交道。”威尔莫特先生说，“这样在各方面都更令人满意些。我要说的是，布兰特先生，这件事让我非常恼火。但也没有必要麻烦苏格兰场——我毕竟毫发无损，可能只是因为一个小小的误会造成的。但是我却看不出这个误会是怎么造成的。我可以肯定地说，这其中没有丝毫违法乱纪的成分，但我还是想把这件事情搞清楚。如果弄不清楚一件事的前因后果的话，我会发疯的。”
“这是自然。”汤米说。
威尔莫特先生继续说下去。他缓缓道来，叙述得十分详细。最后汤米才设法插进一句话。
“您所说的情况大概是这样，”他说，“您一周前乘坐‘流浪号’抵达英国。不知怎么搞得，您的旅行包和另一位绅士的包弄混了，这位绅士是拉尔夫•韦斯特勒姆先生，他名字的首字母和您的一样。您拿了韦斯特勒姆先生的包，而他拿了您的。韦斯特勒姆很快就发现弄错了，把您的旅行包送到大使馆，拿走了他自己的。是这样吧？”
“正是。这两个包一定几乎一模一样，而且行李标签上标注着同样的首字母R.W.，这就不难理解为什么会拿错。我自己一直没有发现，直到我的男仆告诉我拿错了，那位韦斯特勒姆先生——他是位参议员，我很仰慕的一个人——已经派人拿走了他的旅行包，并送回了我的。”
“那么，我不明白——”
“您会明白的。这只是故事的开始，昨天，我碰巧遇到了韦斯特勒姆议员，我开玩笑地谈起这件事。令我十分惊讶的是，他似乎根本不知道我在说什么，而等我解释完这一切，他完全加以否认。他下船时根本没有把我的包当成他的拿走——实际上，他旅行的行李中根本就没有这么一个包。”
“多么离奇啊！”
“布兰特先生，这事确实奇怪，太莫名其妙了。如果有人想偷我的旅行包，他很容易就能办到，根本不需要这么大费周章。不管怎样，我的旅行包毕竟没有被偷，而是送回来了。但从另一方面来分析，如果真是被拿错了，为什么那个人要冒充韦斯特勒姆议员？这事太疯狂了——但是恰恰勾起了我的好奇心，我要查清楚这件事。我希望您不会因为案子太小，不愿接手吧？”
“哦，不会不会。案子虽小，但十分有趣。如您所说，这件事虽然可能有许多简单的解释，但是乍看起来却十分令人困惑。首先，当然，如果真是偷梁换柱的话，那就查查这样做的目的何在。您说您的旅行包送回来时里面什么也没丢？”
“我的仆人说一件不少，他很清楚。”
“那里面有什么，请允许我冒昧问一下？”
“主要就是一双靴子。”
“靴子。”汤米说，显得有些失望。
“是的，”威尔莫特先生说，“是靴子，很奇怪，不是吗？”
“请您原谅我这样问，”汤米说，“但是您有没有把什么机密文件藏在靴子的里衬或假跟里？”
大使似乎被这个问题逗乐了。
“秘密外交不会到这个地步，我希望。”
“当然，这只会出现在小说中，”汤米带着些许歉意微笑着回答道，“但是您看，我们至少触及这件事情的关键问题。谁去使馆拿走的旅行包——另一个旅行包，我的意思是？”
“估计是韦斯特勒姆的一个仆人。很普通的一个人，并且有些木讷，据我所知。我的男仆没看出他有什么不对劲儿。”
“您知道这个旅行包是否被打开过吗？”
“我说不准，可能没有。但是可能您会愿意问我的男仆几个问题吧？他能比我更清楚地回答你的问题。”
“我想这是个极好的办法，威尔莫特先生。”
大使在一张名片上画了几个字，然后把它递给汤米。
“我想您愿意亲自去大使馆开展您的调查？不然，我派人叫他来。顺便说一下，他的名字叫理查兹。”
“不，谢谢，威尔莫特先生，我应该亲自去大使馆。”
大使站起身来，看了一眼手表。
“天啊，我有一个会面要迟到了。好吧，再见，布兰特先生，我把这件事交给您了。”
他急匆匆离开了。汤米看了看塔彭丝，她刚才一直在便签簿上认真地比画着，扮演着能干的鲁宾孙小姐的角色。
“怎么样，老伙计？”他问，“看出什么来没有，正如这老家伙所说，整个事件莫名其妙。”
“一点儿也没有。”塔彭丝地轻松地回答。
“嗯，不管怎么说这只是开始！显而易见，这件事背后一定隐藏着什么。”
“你这样认为？”
“这是人人都可以接受的假设。还记得福尔摩斯‘顺藤摸瓜’的推理吗——有时不妨也采用逆向推理——我的意思是。我总是急于去挖掘案子的蛛丝马迹。或许福尔摩斯的搭档华生有一天会从他的笔记中挖出适用于任何案件的灵丹妙药。那么我就死而瞑目了。但是我们还是先开始工作吧。”
“确实如此，”塔彭丝说，“但是令人尊敬的威尔莫特先生一定不是个性急的人。”
“‘她’了解男人，”汤米说，“或许我得说‘他’了解男人。你充当一位男侦探时都把人搞迷糊了。”
“哦，老兄，亲爱的老兄！”
“多些行动，塔彭丝，少些重复。”
“侦探故事的经典语句怎么重复也不过分。”塔彭丝严肃地说。
“吃块松饼。”汤米温和地说。
“在深夜十一点？不，谢谢。唉，这个愚蠢的案子。靴子——你说，为什么会是靴子呢？”
“那么，”汤米说，“为什么不能是？”
“不合逻辑啊，靴子，”她摇摇头，“根本不对劲。谁会想要其他人的靴子？事情从头到尾都很愚蠢。”
“可能他们拿错了包。”汤米提出看法。
“可能。但是如果他们要的是文件，那么公文包更有可能，而不是旅行包，能让人想到跟大使们有关的东西只能是秘密文件之类的。”
“靴子可以提供脚印啊，”汤米沉思道，“你想他们是不是想要在哪儿留下威尔莫特的脚印？”
塔彭丝暂时放弃了自己所扮演的角色，考虑了一下汤米这个提议，然后摇摇头。
“好像不可能，”她说，“不，我相信我们不得不承认靴子和这件事一点儿关系都没有。”
“好吧，”汤米叹了口气，“下一步是去见我们的朋友理查兹。他可能会提供一些线索。”
借助大使的那张名片，汤米获准进入美国大使馆，很快一位脸色苍白的年轻人来见汤米，他态度礼貌，声音柔和，介绍自己，接受询问。
“我是理查兹，先生，威尔莫特先生的男仆，我想您希望见见我？”
“是的，理查兹。威尔莫特先生今天上午来访，建议我到这儿来问您几个问题，是关于旅行包的问题。”
“威尔莫特先生对这件事非常困扰，我知道，先生。我也不明白为什么出了这样的事，尽管这事并没有造成什么损失。我确实从那个来取韦斯特勒姆议员旅行包的人那儿得知包拿错了，但是显然，我已经犯了个错误。”
“那人长什么样？”
“中年，灰白头发，举止高雅，十分有教养，我得说——十分可敬。我心想他准是韦斯特勒姆议员的男仆。他留下威尔莫特先生的包，拿走了另外一个。”
“那个包根本就没打开过吗？”
“哪个，先生？”
“我指的是你从船上拿的那个。但我同时想知道另外一个——威尔莫特先生自己的那个打开过吗？”
“没有，先生。还是像我刚拿上船时一样用皮绳捆着。那位绅士——不管他是谁——只是打开了一下——意识到不是他的，又关上了。”
“什么都没丢？哪怕小东西？”
“我想没有，先生，实际上我也不太确定。”
“那么现在来说另一个包。你有没有打开？”
“事实是，先生，在韦斯特勒姆议员的人来时，我正准备打开，刚要解开绳子。”
“那你到底打开它没有？”
“我们只是一起把它解开了，先生，为了确保这次别再弄错。这个人说没问题，然后又捆好拿走了。”
“里面有什么？也是靴子？”
“不是，先生，大部分是洗漱用品，我想。我看到了一罐浴盐。”
汤米放弃了这条调查线索。
“在你主人船上的客舱里，你有没有看到什么可疑的人或东西？”
“哦，没有，先生。”
“没有任何可疑的事情？”
“我的意思是，”他带着一丝自嘲暗想，“可疑的事情——只是说说罢了！”
但他面前的这个人犹豫了一下。
“现在我想起来——”
“好的，”汤米急切地追问，“什么？”
“我不知道和这件事有没有关系。但是有一位年轻的女士。”
“哦？一位年轻的女士，你说，她干了什么？”
“她昏倒了，先生。一位很讨人喜欢的年轻女士。她的名字是艾琳•欧哈拉小姐。漂亮，不高，一头黑发，长得有一点像外国人。”
“是吗？”汤米说，显得更加急切。
“正如我刚才所说，她不舒服，恰好晕倒在威尔莫特先生的客舱外。她让我去请医生，我先把她扶到沙发上，然后赶紧去找。”
我费了点时间才找到医生，但当我把他带过来时，这位年轻女士已经差不多恢复正常了。
“哦！”汤米说。
“您不认为，先生——”
“就目前这些情况很难发表什么看法，”汤米不表态，“这位欧哈拉小姐独自一人旅行吗？”
“是的，我想是的，先生。”
“你下船后就没有再看见过她？”
“没有，先生。”
“好，”汤米思考了一会儿说，“我想问的就是这些。谢谢你，理查兹。”
“谢谢您，先生。”
回到侦探所办公室，汤米向塔彭丝详细复述了他和理查兹的谈话内容，塔彭丝专注地倾听着。
“你有什么想法，塔彭丝？”
“哦，老兄，我们医生总是习惯于怀疑那种突然的昏厥！这伎俩太容易了。艾琳•欧哈拉，听起来几乎不像是爱尔兰人，不是吗？”
“最后会有定论的。你知道我现在要去干什么，塔彭丝？我要登寻人启事寻找这位女士。”
“什么？”
“是的，寻人启事上就说，艾琳•欧哈拉小姐某月某日坐过某某号轮船，我们急于获得她的任何信息。如果确有其人，她会自己前来，或者会有人来提供她的有关信息。就目前来说，这是唯一找到这条线索的希望。”
“你这样做也会让她提高警惕，别忘了。”
“嗯，”汤米说，“有些事总要冒些风险。”
“我还是看不出他们这样做的动机何在，”塔彭丝说，皱起了眉头，“如果一群窃贼拿到大使的包，一两个小时后送回来，这对他们有什么好处？除非里面有他们想复制的文件，但威尔莫特先生一口咬定里面没有这些东西。”
汤米若有所思地盯着她。
“你的分析很有道理，塔彭丝，”他最后说，“你给了我一个启发。”
第十三章 无懈可击的伪证
第十三章 无懈可击的伪证
汤米和塔彭丝正忙于整理来信。塔彭丝突然惊叫了一声，然后把一封信递给汤米。
“一个新客户。”她强调说。
“哈！”汤米说，“从这封信中我们能推断出什么，华生？没有什么特别的嘛，除了……蒙……呃……蒙哥马利•琼斯先生显然拼写水平不太高，因此可以证明他没有受过良好的教育。”
“蒙哥马利•琼斯？”塔彭丝说，“那么我对蒙哥马利•琼斯了解多少呢？啊，是的，我想起来了。珍妮特•圣文森特曾提到过他。他母亲是艾琳•蒙哥马利女士。她盛气凌人，浑身珠光宝气，信仰高教会派，嫁给了一位叫琼斯的阔佬。”
“事实上又是一个老生常谈的故事。”汤米说，“让我看看，这位蒙哥马利•琼斯先生什么时间来和我们会面？啊，十一点半。”
十一点半整，一位和蔼可亲、一脸机灵相的高个儿年轻人来到外面的办公室，向阿尔伯特——那个办公室助理打招呼。
“嘿——我说，我能见见布……呃……布兰特先生吗？”
“您有预约吗，先生？”阿尔伯特说。
“我不太清楚。啊，是的，我想是的。我是说，我写了一封信——”
“您尊姓大名，先生？”
“蒙哥马利•琼斯先生。”
“我立刻把您的名字通报给布兰特先生。”
他不一会儿就回来了。
“请稍等几分钟，先生，布兰特先生正在处理一个非常重要的文件。”
“哦……呃……好……当然。”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说。
汤米在确认已经给他的顾客留下深刻印象后，才按响办公桌上的蜂鸣器，然后蒙哥马利•琼斯先生被阿尔伯特带进里面的办公室。
汤米起身欢迎他，热情地和他握手，并请他坐下。
“现在，蒙哥马利•琼斯先生，”他轻快地说，“我们有幸能为您做什么？”
蒙哥马利•琼斯先生犹豫地看着办公室里的第三个人。
“我的机要秘书，鲁宾孙小姐，”汤米说，“您可以在她面前畅所欲言。我猜是一些复杂、微妙的家庭琐事？”
“呃——不全是。”蒙哥马利•琼斯说。
“真的不是？”汤米说，“您自己没有遇到什么麻烦吧，我希望？”
“哦，没有。”蒙哥马利•琼斯说。
“好吧，”汤米说，“可能您会……呃……简明扼要地陈述一下您的来意。”
但是，蒙哥马利先生似乎并不打算这样做。
“我有一件非常奇怪的事情要向您请教，”他犹豫地说，“我……呃……我真的不知道该怎么表达。”
“我们从不接离婚案。”汤米说。
“哦，上帝，不是的，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生急忙说，“我不是那个意思。它只是——嗯，只是一个愚蠢可笑的玩笑。仅此而已。”
“有人故弄玄虚，和您开了一个玩笑？”汤米说。
但是蒙哥马利•琼斯先生再一次摇摇头。
“好吧，”汤米说，悠然地向后一靠，“您慢慢想，让我们听听您自己怎么说。”
接下来是一阵沉默。
“嗯，”琼斯先生终于说话了，“有一次晚宴，我坐在一个女孩身旁。”
“哦？”汤米鼓励地说。
“她是个——哦，我真的不知道该怎么描述她，但她是我见过的最有冒险精神的女孩。
她是个澳大利亚人，和另一个女孩，在克拉吉斯大街合租了一间公寓。她什么事情都打赌。我完全跟您形容不出这个女孩对我的影响。”
“我们能想象得到，琼斯先生。”塔彭丝插了一句嘴。
她清楚地看出布兰特先生那样商业化的公事公办的态度显然不行，如果要想让蒙哥马利•琼斯先生痛痛快快地说出自己的心事，那么这时女性的机敏和富有同情心的关怀就能取得事半功倍的效果。
“我们完全理解您现在心情。”塔彭丝鼓励说。
“这整个事件对我来说是个极大的打击，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“一个女孩真的会——像那样一下击中你的内心。先前我曾喜欢过另一个女孩——实际上是两个女孩。一个活泼，但是我不太喜欢她的脸蛋，不过她跳舞跳得好极了。我打小就认识她，这让人有种可靠的感觉，你知道。然后另外一个女孩是我在那种‘轻浮’的地方认识的，她非常迷人。当然，为这事我也和母亲吵过多次。但不管怎样，我真的没有想和她们中的任何一位结婚。
但是真正让我动心的——我也没想到——就是曾坐在我身边的这个女孩，在这之后——”
“你的整个世界都变了。”塔彭丝以同情的语调说。
汤米不耐烦地在他的椅子里挪了下身体。他现在多少有些厌烦这位蒙哥马利•琼斯先生独自演说他的罗曼史。
“您说得太好了，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“正是这样。只是您知道，我想她并不是很喜欢我，您不会认为我太傻吧？”
“哦，您千万不要太谦虚。”塔彭丝说。
“哦，我也确实意识到自己不是个聪明的人。”琼斯先生带着迷人的微笑说，“特别是对那样一个绝妙的女孩来说。这也正是为什么我觉得一定要做好这件事。这是我唯一的机会。她是一位敢于冒险的姑娘，但是她绝不会食言。”
“嗯，我衷心希望您好运，”塔彭丝亲切地说，“但我还是没有看出您到底想让我们为您做什么。”
“哦，老天，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“难道我还没有解释清楚吗？”
“没有，”汤米说，“您根本没谈。”
“好吧，事情是这样的。我们曾一起谈论侦探故事。乌娜——这是她的名字——非常热衷于这些故事，我也是。我们讨论了某个案例，它始终围绕着一个罪犯的不在场伪证展开。然后我们讨论模拟辩词。接着我说做一个无懈可击的伪证是不可能的——不，是她说的——等等，到底我俩谁说办不到来着？”
“别管是谁说的了。”塔彭丝说。
“我说要做到十分困难。但她不赞同我的看法——说这不是个费脑筋的活儿。我们争论得面红耳赤，最后她说，‘我给您一个公平竞争的机会。如果我能做出一个没有人能推翻的伪证，你拿什么打赌？’
“‘随便。’我说，我们当时就这么说定了。她对整件事情十分自信，‘这对我来说小菜一碟，’她说。‘别那么自信，’我说，‘如果你输了，我能向你提任何我喜欢的要求吧？’她大笑起来，说她来自一个赌博世家，我肯定不会赢。”
“然后呢？”当琼斯先生停下来恳求似的看着她时，塔彭丝说道。
“好吧，难道您没看出来？对我来说，这是唯一能赢得一个像她那样的女孩的青睐的机会。你根本不知道她有多么敢作敢为。去年夏天，她在一条河上划船，有人和她打赌说她不敢穿着衣服跳下船游到岸边，你猜怎么着，她真就那样做了。”
“这真是一个非常奇怪的提议，”汤米说，“我还是不太明白您到底要我们做什么。”
“非常简单，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“您一定常做这类事情。调查假证词，推敲哪儿有破绽。”
“哦……呃……是的，当然，”汤米说，“我们做许多这类的工作。”
“我希望有人替我来做这件事，”蒙哥马利•琼斯说，“我自己不太在行。您只要找出她的破绽就可以。我敢说这对您来说似乎是个小买卖，但对我却非常重要，我准备付……呃……所有必要的费用，您知道。”
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“我确信布兰特先生会为您接下这个案子。”
“当然，当然，”汤米说，“一个最让人提神的案子，最让人提神，确实。”
蒙哥马利•琼斯先生如释重负般长出了一口气，从他的口袋里掏出一团文件，挑出一张给他们。“就是这个，”他说，“她说，‘我能证明我同时出现在两个不同的地方。一个版本是我在索霍区的邦当饭店独自一人吃过中饭，然后去公爵剧院，接着和一个朋友——勒马钱特先生用晚餐，就在萨沃伊饭店——但与此同时，我待在托基的卡斯尔旅馆，直到第二天早晨才回伦敦。’你要找出这两个版本的故事哪个是真，我又是怎样才能把假的也安排得跟真的一样。
“那么，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“现在您明白我想要你们做什么了吧？”
“一个非常新奇的小问题。”汤米说，“太天真可爱了。”
“这是乌娜的照片，”蒙哥马利•琼斯先生说，“我想您会用得到。”
“这位女士的全名叫什么？”汤米问道。
“乌娜•德拉克，她住在克拉吉斯街一八〇号。”
“谢谢，”汤米说，“就这样吧，我们会为您解决这桩麻烦，蒙哥马利•琼斯先生，我希望很快给您带来好消息。”
“我不胜感激，”琼斯先生说，起身和汤米握手，“这一直是我的一块大心病。”
送走客人，汤米回到里面的办公室。塔彭丝在橱柜旁边忙活着，那里陈列着经典侦探小说。
“弗伦奇探长 [1] 。”塔彭丝说。
“啊？”汤米说。
“弗伦奇探长，当然，”塔彭丝说，“他总是调查罪犯的不在场证明。我清楚地了解他办案的流程。我们把事情从头至尾梳理一遍，然后逐一核查。开始似乎都没有问题，一旦我们更深入检查时，就会发现其中的破绽。”
“这件事没什么难的，”汤米说，“我是说，开始就知道其中一段证词为假，从这个角度入手，剩下的事手到擒来，我得说，这反倒是让我担忧的地方。”
“我没看出有什么值得担忧的。”
“我在担忧那个女孩。”汤米说，“不管她愿不愿意，这件事都有可能使得这个女孩嫁给那个年轻人。”
“亲爱的，”塔彭丝说，“别傻了。女人可不是像表面上看起来那么疯狂的赌徒。除非那个女孩已经准备好要嫁给那个讨人喜欢，但头脑空洞的年轻人。否则她不会让自己作为赌注打这样一个赌。但是，汤米，相信我，相较其他的容易方式，如果他赢了这场赌局，她会以更大的热情和尊重嫁给他。”
“你真以为你什么都知道啊。”她的丈夫说。
“当然。”塔彭丝说。
“现在看一下我们的资料吧，”汤米说，把资料拉向自己，“首先是照片——啊——相当好看的女孩——很漂亮的照片，我得说。影像清晰，很容易辨识。”
“我们还得设法拿到几张其他女孩的照片。”塔彭丝说。
“为什么？”
“你没看到那些大侦探们总是这样做吗，”塔彭丝说，“给侍者看四到五张照片，他们能准确指认出你要找的那个人。”
“你真以为他们可以？”汤米说，“能辨认出要找的那个人，我的意思是。”
“是啊，书里就是这样写的。”塔彭丝说。
“真遗憾，实际生活总是和小说大不相同，”汤米说，“那么，我们现在分析到哪儿啦？
是的，这是伦敦地区。七点半，在邦当饭店吃饭，去公爵剧院看《蓝色郁金香》，票据在这儿呢。在萨伏伊饭店和勒马钱特先生共进晚餐。我想我们应该先见见勒马钱特先生。”
“根本就没用，”塔彭丝说，“因为如果他在帮她，那么他自然什么都不会说，他说的话我们根本没法听。”
“那好吧，这是托基地区，”汤米继续说，“十二点从帕丁顿郡出发，在汽车旅馆吃午饭，附有一张用餐账单，在卡斯尔旅馆待了一晚上，这儿也有一张发票。”
“这些都不足为据，”塔彭丝说，“任何人都可以买一张戏票，而根本不需去剧院。这个女孩只去过托基，而伦敦的一切都是假的。”
“如果真是这样，那这事对我们来说就容易多了。”汤米说，“好，我想我们还是要去见见勒马钱特先生。”
勒马钱特先生是个活泼愉快的年轻人，看到他们并没有表现出太多的惊讶。
“乌娜又在玩小把戏了，对吧？”他问，“你永远想不到那孩子会干出什么来。”
“但是我知道，勒马钱特先生，”汤米说，“上个周二晚上德拉克小姐和您曾在萨伏伊饭店共进晚餐。”
“是有这回事，”勒马钱特先生说，“我记得那天是星期二，因为乌娜当时特意强调了这个日期，并且她还让我在一本小册子上把这个日期写下来。”
带着点自豪，他指着那行模糊的铅笔字迹让他们看：“和乌娜共进晚餐。萨伏伊，星期二，十九日。”
“那天晚些时间德拉克小姐又去了哪儿，您知道吗？”
“她去看了乏味的叫什么‘粉色牡丹’的表演，十分无聊，她是这样告诉我的。”
“您非常确定德拉克小姐那个晚上和您在一起？”
勒马钱特先生不高兴地注视着她。
“怎么啦，那是当然。难道我不是这样告诉您的吗？”
“或许是她要您这样告诉我们的吧。”塔彭丝说。
“好吧，事实是她确实说过一些相当蹊跷的话。啊，让我想一下，她说——‘你认为我和你正坐在这儿吃晚饭，但实际上我正在二百英里外的德文郡吃晚餐呢’。你说这话奇不奇怪？难道还是灵魂出窍这类？更有趣的是，我的一个老朋友，迪基•赖斯，居然说他确实在那儿看到过她。”
“这位赖斯先生是谁？”
“哦，只是我的一个朋友。他一直和姑妈住在托基。他姑妈像颗老蚕豆，生命摇摇欲坠，却总是一年年活下来。迪基一直在那儿扮演一个孝顺侄儿的角色。他说，‘我有天看到那个澳大利亚女孩啦——叫乌娜什么的。本来想过去和她说句话，但是我姑妈非拉我去和一位坐轮椅的老女人聊天。’我说，‘哪天？’他说，‘哦，星期二，大约下午茶的时候。’当然，我告诉他，他一定是弄错了。但是这事让人觉得很奇怪，不是吗？因为乌娜那个晚上不是也提到德文郡了吗？”
“是很奇怪，”汤米说，“告诉我，勒马钱特先生，当晚在萨伏伊饭店里有没有您认识的人？”
“旁边的桌子坐着奥格兰德一家。”
“他们认识德拉克小姐吗？”
“哦，是的，他们认识她，但估计并不是很熟。”
“好吧，如果您再没什么要告诉我们的话，我们就告辞了。”
“要么那个家伙是个非常出色的骗子，”当他们来到大街上时，汤米说，“要么他说的全是真话。”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“我现在改变了原来的观点。我有种感觉，那个晚上乌娜•德拉克就在萨伏伊吃晚餐。”
“我们现在去邦当饭店，”汤米提议说，“给饿坏的侦探们点个餐。在此之前，让我们先弄到几个女孩的照片吧。”
而结果证明这件事情远比想象得要困难得多。
他们进入一间照相馆，请求冲洗几张类似的照片，却遭到了断然拒绝。
“为什么所有这些在书中写得非常简单轻松，而在实际生活中这么难呢，”塔彭丝悲叹说，“看他们那怀疑的目光，你说他们会认为我们要用这些照片干吗？我们最好突然袭击，去拜访一下简。”
结果证明塔彭丝的朋友简是乐于助人的性情，她让塔彭丝在她的一个抽屉里任意翻看，挑出几张不同类型的比较合适的照片，这些照片是她过去一些朋友的。简把这些照片塞进抽屉后，几乎都忘了。
带上这些漂亮尤物们光彩夺目的照片，他们全副武装，赶往邦当饭店，那儿有新的困难和更昂贵的代价等着他们。汤米不得不挨个儿抓住每一名侍者，赔着笑脸，塞给人小费，然后再请对方辨认那些照片。结果并不让人满意。至少有三张照片上的姑娘被指认上周二曾在那儿吃晚饭。接着他们马不停蹄回到办公室，塔彭丝把自己埋进一堆火车票据中。
“十二点帕丁顿，托基三点四十五。这是火车票，勒马钱特的朋友，西米、木薯或什么先生，在下午茶时间在那儿看到她。”
“我们还没有仔细核实过他的话，别忘了。”汤米说，“如果，如你刚才所说，勒马钱特是乌娜•德拉克的朋友，他就可能编造了刚才那个故事。”
“哦，我们去赖斯先生那儿搜罗一下，”塔彭丝说，“我有种预感，勒马钱特先生说的是真话。不，也不全对，我现在想弄明白的就是这点。乌娜•德拉克也许坐十二点的火车离开伦敦，到托基后在某个旅馆开了一个房间放下行李，然后又乘火车返回伦敦，及时到达萨伏伊饭店。接着又乘四点四十的火车，在九点十分到达帕丁顿。”
“那么，然后呢？”汤米说。
“接下来，”塔彭丝皱起眉头，“就更难分析了。有一班午夜十二点的火车从帕丁顿又发回伦敦，但是她不可能赶上，因为那班车太早了。”
“开快车呢？”汤米提议。
“唔，”塔彭丝说，“那可是差不多两百英里的路程。”
“我一直听说，澳大利亚人开车十分疯狂。”
“哦，我想有这种可能，”塔彭丝说，“那她会在大约早晨七点钟到达托基。”
“你的意思是，那时她可以神不知鬼不觉地冲到卡斯尔旅馆跳到她的床上？或者赶回旅店向人解释她整晚在外面，然后付了账单？”
“汤米，”塔彭丝说，“我们都是傻子，她根本不需要回到托基。她只要托一位朋友到那儿的旅馆拿上她的行李，付清账单。这样不就拿到了上面注有恰当日期的发票。”
“我想我们基本上得出了一个十分合理的推论，”汤米说，“接下来要做的是赶上明天十二点去托基的火车，到那儿就可以证明我们伟大的结论是否可靠。”
第二天一早，带着几张明艳动人的美人照片，汤米和塔彭丝准时乘车，坐进头等车厢，预订了午餐座位。
“这班餐车的服务员不太可能正好是那天接待过那位姑娘的吧，”汤米说，“这得指望咱们的好运气了，我们得花些时间去托基走一趟，在那儿逗留几天，直到我们找到正确答案。”
“这桩寻找证人的买卖真够费劲儿的，”塔彭丝说，“小说中这样的桥段都是两三段就结束了。某某侦探乘上去托基的火车，询问了餐车侍者，然后就结案了。”
但是，至少这次，这对年轻伉俪的运气来了。回答他们问题的，给他们结账的侍者恰恰是上周二值班的那位。接着，汤米所说的价值十先令的技能便付诸实施，塔彭丝拿出那些美人照片请他辨认。
“我想知道，”汤米说，“上周二这些女士中有没有人曾在这辆火车上用餐？”
正如最佳侦探小说大书特书的那样，这个男人立刻愉快地指认出乌娜•德拉克的照片。
“是的，先生，我记得这位女士，也记得那天是星期二，因为那位女士自己特别强调了这个日期，说星期二总是她的幸运日。”
“到目前为止，一切顺利，”当他们回到自己的包厢时，塔彭丝说，“我们也许还会发现她确实预订了旅馆房间，那要证明她返回过伦敦就不那么容易了，但是火车站的行李工说不定能认出她来。”
但是，在那儿他们却又扑了一个空。下了火车，登上月台，汤米询问检票员和几个行李工，对方都说不知道。在询问另外两个行李工之前，汤米先塞给他们每人一个两先令六便士的硬币，结果那两个行李工同时指认出其中一张另外一个姑娘的照片，说模糊记得有个这样的姑娘坐下午四点四十的火车返回伦敦，至此辨认乌娜•德拉克的工作告一段落。
“但这也并不能说明什么问题，”当他们离开火车站时塔彭丝说，“她可能确实乘坐过那趟火车，但是没有人注意到她而已。”
“她也可能是从其他车站上的车，比如托雷站。”
“很有可能，”塔彭丝说，“不管怎样，我们去过旅馆后，一切就真相大白了。”
卡斯尔旅馆是家可以远眺大海的大酒店。预订完过夜的一个房间，完成登记后，汤米愉快地四处打量了一番，满面笑容地问道：
“我相信上星期二我们一位朋友曾在贵店住过，她是乌娜•德拉克小姐。”
柜台里的年轻女士对他灿烂地一笑。
“哦，是的，我记得很清楚。一位澳大利亚年轻女士，我想。”
汤米打了个手势，塔彭丝立刻拿出乌娜的照片。
“这是她的一张照片，十分迷人，不是吗？”塔彭丝说。
“哦，十分漂亮，确实十分迷人，相当时髦。”
“她在这儿待了很久吗？”汤米问道。
“只待了一晚。她走时说第二天早晨回伦敦。看上去旅途遥远，却在这儿只待一个晚上。但是当然，我想澳大利亚女士们不会在乎这种来去匆匆的旅行。”
“她是一位敢作敢为的女孩，”汤米说，“总喜欢冒险。但是在这儿，她有没有出去和一些朋友吃晚饭，然后坐他们的车兜风，结果把车翻进沟里，直到第二天早晨才回来？”
“哦，没有，”这位年轻女士说，“德拉克小姐是在酒店里用的晚餐。”
“真的吗，”汤米说，“您确定？我的意思是——您怎么知道的？”
“哦，我看到她了。”
“我这样问是因为我听说她和一些朋友在托基吃的晚餐。”汤米解释说。
“哦，不，先生，她在这儿吃的晚餐，”这位年轻女士笑起来，脸微微泛了点红，“我记得，她当时穿了件十分甜美漂亮的连衣裙，是那种撒满三色堇花的雪纺绸衣料。”
“塔彭丝，又拧巴了。”当他们被带上楼，进了自己的房间后，汤米说。
“相当拧巴，”塔彭丝说，“当然也可能那个女人弄错了。等一会儿我们晚餐时再问问侍者。每年这个时候，这儿不会有太多人。”
这次是塔彭丝主攻。
“您能告诉我，我的一位朋友上星期二在您这儿用过餐吗？”她带着一脸迷人的微笑问那位侍者，“一位德拉克小姐，穿着布满三色木堇花的连衣裙，我想，”她拿出一张照片，“就是这位女士。”
“是的，是的，德拉克小姐，我清楚地记得她，她说她从澳大利亚来。”
“她在这儿吃的晚饭？”
“是的，是上星期二。她还问我晚餐后城里有没有什么娱乐活动。”
“是吗？”
“我向她介绍了剧院、展览馆，但是最终她决定哪儿也不去，待在这儿听我们的乐队演奏。”
“哦，见鬼！”汤米低声咕哝道。
“您不记得她什么时候吃的晚餐了吧？”塔彭丝问。
“她下来得有点晚，得有八点钟左右。”
“见鬼，真是该死，”当塔彭丝和汤米离开餐厅后，塔彭丝大声诅咒道，“汤米，这事真不简单，一切似乎安排得天衣无缝。”
“好吧，我想我们应该一开始就知道这件事不会一帆风顺。”
“我在考虑，这之后是不是还有哪趟火车她能乘坐？”
“那时没有一趟车能把她载到伦敦，让她及时赶到萨伏伊。”
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“最后一线希望，我要去和客房女服务员谈谈。乌娜•德拉克曾住过我们同一层的一个房间。”
客房服务员是一位健谈的见多识广的女人。是的，她清楚地记得那位年轻女士，这正是那姑娘的照片，十分年轻漂亮，非常愉快健谈；告诉了她许多关于澳大利亚和袋鼠的趣闻。
这位年轻女士九点半钟打铃传唤过她，让把暖水袋装满水再放到床上去，并且告诉她第二天一早七点半叫醒自己——同时送咖啡来，不要茶。
“你确实准点去叫床，而她那时也睡在床上？”塔彭丝问。
“什么，当然，夫人，当然。”
“哦，我只是想知道她是不是在锻炼啥的，”塔彭丝漫不经心地说，“许多人清早都锻炼。”
“好吧，似乎足以板上钉钉了，”当这位客房女服务离开后，汤米说，“从这一切来看，只能得出一个结论：伦敦那边发生的一切一定是假的。”
“勒马钱特先生一定是远比我们想象得更高明的骗子。”塔彭丝说。
“不过我们有一个办法可以查证他的说法，”汤米很肯定地说，“他说坐在旁边桌子上的人多少认识乌娜。他们叫什么名字——奥格兰德，是这个名字。我们一定要找出叫奥格兰德的这家人，我们也应该去德拉克小姐在格拉治斯大街上的公寓调查一下。”
第二天早晨，他们付了账单，多少有些失望地离开了。
借助电话号码簿，他们轻松找到了奥格兰德家的地址。这次塔彭丝扮演了一份新插画报纸代理人的角色。她拜访奥格兰德夫人，采访关于上星期二他们一家晚上在萨伏伊举办的‘时尚’家宴的几个细节。这些细节奥格兰德夫人巴不得告诉她。临走，塔彭丝漫不经心地问：“让我想想，德拉克小姐是不是坐在您旁边的桌子？她真的和佩斯公爵订婚啦？您当然认识她吧？”
“我认识她，但不熟。”奥格兰德夫人说，“一个十分迷人的女孩，我相信，是的，她和勒马钱特先生坐旁边的桌子。我的女儿们比我更了解她。”
塔彭丝第二个拜访地点是格拉治斯街的公寓。在这儿欢迎她的是马乔里•莱斯特，她是德拉克小姐的朋友，和德拉克小姐合租一间公寓。
“一定要告诉我这是怎么回事？”莱斯特小姐哀怨地问，“乌娜在玩一些狡猾的游戏，我一点也不清楚。当然，她上星期二晚上确实是在这儿睡的。”
“她进来时你看到她了吗？”
“没有，我当时已经睡了。她自己有大门的钥匙，当然。她大约一点进的门，我估计。”
“你什么时候看见的她？”
“哦，第二天早晨九点——或者可能差不多十点了。”
当塔彭丝离开公寓时，她几乎和刚进门的一个高个儿枯瘦的女人撞在一起。
“对不起，小姐，实在对不起。”这个枯瘦女人说。
“你在这儿工作吗？”塔彭丝问。
“是的，小姐，我每天都来。”
“上午您几点来这儿？”
“九点钟我当班，小姐。”
塔彭丝迅速往这个女人手中塞了两先令六便士的硬币。
“上周二上午你来时，看到德拉克小姐了吗？”
“当然，是的，她确实在这儿。当时她在床上熟睡，我给她端进去早茶时，她还没醒呢。”
“哦，谢谢你。”塔彭丝说，闷闷不乐地下了楼。
她原定和汤米在索和区的一家小餐馆一起吃午饭，顺便互通信息。
“我见到了那个叫赖斯的家伙，他确实在托基远远地看见了乌娜•德拉克。”
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“我们已经彻底查完了这些证词。这样，给我一张纸和一支铅笔，汤米，让我们像所有的侦探们那样清楚地把调查的情况罗列一下。”
1:30 乌娜德拉克被看到在火车餐车上吃午饭
4:00 到达卡斯尔旅馆
5:00 赖斯先生看到她
8:00 被看到在旅馆吃饭
9:30 要一瓶热水
11:30 被看到和勒马钱特先生在萨伏伊
7:30 被卡斯尔旅馆的女服务员叫醒
9:00 被格拉治斯大街公寓的女佣叫醒
他们面面相觑。
“嗯，在我看来，似乎布兰特卓越侦探所的大师们败北了。”汤米说。
“哦，我们一定不能放弃，”塔彭丝说，“这其中一定有人在撒谎。”
“让我觉得奇怪的是，调查结果证明并没有人撒谎。所有证人看起来都十分诚实坦率。”
“但是一定有破绽，我们知道一定有。我认为所发生的一切，就像一条无人驾驶的船，它漂来荡去，就是不能把我们带向彼岸。”
“我不得不去相信灵魂之说了。”
“好，”塔彭丝说，“现在我们唯一能做的就是明天再说吧。沉睡之时，潜意识还在工作，说不定我们会灵光乍现。”
“唔，”汤米说，“如果你的潜意识能在明天早晨前解开这个谜团，我将向您致敬。”
接下来他们没有再说话，一次次地，塔彭丝翻看那张罗列调查情况的纸片，不时在纸片上写下什么，又自言自语一番，对着这张纸苦苦地思索，但是最终他们都一无所获，只好起身睡觉去了。
“这真令人沮丧。”汤米说。
“这是我过的最悲惨的一夜。”塔彭丝说。
“我想我们应该去家杂耍剧院休息一下，”汤米说，“在那儿看几个关于丈母娘、双胞胎之类的笑话，喝点啤酒，这会让我们觉得好很多。”
“不，我要让你看到有志者，事竟成。”塔彭丝说，“接下来的八个小时，我们的潜意识得多么活跃啊！”带着这个希望，他们上床睡觉。
“早上好，”汤米第二天早晨说，“你的潜意识起作用了吗？”
“我有了一个新的想法。”塔彭丝说。
“是吗？什么样的想法？”
“嗯，相当有趣的想法。在我以前读过的侦探小说里找不出蓝本，实际上是你启发了我。”
“那一定是个好主意。”汤米肯定地说，“快点，塔彭丝，说说看。”
“我要先发个电报证明一下，”塔彭丝说，“不，我先不告诉你，这是个十分稀奇古怪的想法，但它却是解开这些谜团的唯一钥匙。”
“好吧，”汤米说，“我必须要去一趟办公室。我们不能让一屋子客人失望地等待啊，我把这个案子交给我最有前途的助手来办理。”
塔彭丝欢快地点点头。
她一天都没有出现在办公室。汤米大约晚上五点半时回到家中，发现欣喜若狂的塔彭丝正在等他。
“我解决了，汤米，我解开了这个伪证的谜团。我们可以把我们花出去的十先令和两先令十二便士的小费挂在蒙哥马利•琼斯先生的账上了，并且还可以向他要求一笔可观的佣金。他也可以去接他心仪的姑娘回家。”
“怎么解决的？”汤米惊讶地叫起来。
“非常简单，”塔彭丝说，“双胞胎。”
“什么意思？——双胞胎？”
“啊，正是如此。这当然是唯一的答案。我得说正是你昨晚提到继母，双胞胎，几瓶啤酒等事情时，我出现了这个念头。我发电报给澳大利亚，得到了我想得到的回信。乌娜有一个孪生姐姐，薇拉——她上个月来到英格兰。这是她如此自信地打这个赌的原因。她只想对可怜的蒙哥马利•琼斯开个天大的玩笑而已。就这样，她姐姐去了托基，而她待在伦敦。”
“如果她输了，你认为她会非常失望吗？”汤米问。
“不会，”塔彭丝说，“我不这样认为。我原先就提出了我的观点。她会大大赞美蒙哥马利•琼斯。我一直认为对丈夫能力的钦佩是婚姻的基础。”
“我很高兴你受到了我的启发，塔彭丝。”
“这还不是一个真正令人满意的结局，”塔彭丝说，“因为没有按照弗伦奇探长的破案方式：先找到蛛丝马迹，然后顺藤摸瓜，顺利破案。”
“胡说，”汤米说，“我认为我给餐馆侍者辨认照片就正是弗伦奇探长偏爱的方式。”
“但是他不用像我们似的花那么多的小费。”塔彭丝说。
“别介意，”汤米说，“反正这些额外花费我们会让蒙哥马利•琼斯先生报销。他肯定会狂喜得如白痴一般，毫不犹豫地签付一笔大账单。”
“这是自然，”塔彭丝说，“布兰特卓越侦探所不是取得了伟大的成功吗？哦，汤米，我真的认为我们无与伦比的聪明。有时自己都难以相信。”
“下次，我们来侦破一个罗杰•薛灵汉 [2] 的那类案子，塔彭丝，你就是罗杰•薛灵汉。”
“那我得唠唠叨叨说不少话。”塔彭丝说。
“你本来就话多，”汤米说，“现在我提议实施我昨晚提出的计划，找一个杂耍剧院，那儿有许多乐子，看看继母，‘双胞胎’，喝些啤酒。”
[1]弗伦奇探长（Inspector French），英国著名侦探小说家克劳夫兹（Freeman Wills Crofts，1879—1957）作品中的侦探。
[2]Roger Sheringham是英国侦探小说家安东妮•伯克莱（Anthony Berkeley, 1893—1971）笔下的侦探，为人自大，喜欢说教训诫，惹人讨厌。
Thirteen THE UNBREAKABLE ALIBI
Thirteen THE UNBREAKABLE ALIBI

Tommy and Tuppence were busy sorting correspondence. Tuppence gavean exclamation and handed a letter across to Tommy.
“A new client,” she said importantly.
“Ha!” said Tommy. “What do we deduce from this letter, Watson? Noth-ing much, except the somewhat obvious fact that Mr.—er—MontgomeryJones is not one of the world’s best spellers, thereby proving that he hasbeen expensively educated.”
“Montgomery Jones?” said Tuppence. “Now what do I know about aMontgomery Jones? Oh, yes, I have got it now. I think Janet St. Vincentmentioned him. His mother was Lady Aileen Montgomery, very crustyand high-church, with gold crosses and things, and she married a mancalled Jones who is immensely rich.”
“In fact the same old story,” said Tommy. “Let me see, what time doesthis Mr. M. J. wish to see us? Ah, eleven thirty.”
At eleven thirty precisely, a very tall young man with an amiable and in-genuous countenance entered the outer office and addressed himself toAlbert, the office boy.
“Look here—I say. Can I see Mr.—er—Blunt?”
“Have you an appointment, sir?” said Albert.
“I don’t quite know. Yes, I suppose I have. What I mean is, I wrote a let-ter—”
“What name, sir?”
“Mr. Montgomery Jones.”
“I will take your name in to Mr. Blunt.”
He returned after a brief interval.
“Will you wait a few minutes please, sir. Mr. Blunt is engaged on a veryimportant conference at present.”
“Oh—er—yes—certainly,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
Having, he hoped, impressed his client sufficiently Tommy rang thebuzzer on his desk, and Mr. Montgomery Jones was ushered into the inneroffice by Albert.
Tommy rose to greet him, and shaking him warmly by the hand mo-tioned towards the vacant chair.
“Now, Mr. Montgomery Jones,” he said briskly. “What can we have thepleasure of doing for you?”
Mr. Montgomery Jones looked uncertainly at the third occupant of theoffice.
“My confidential secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Tommy. “You canspeak quite freely before her. I take it that this is some family matter of adelicate kind?”
“Well—not exactly,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
“You surprise me,” said Tommy. “You are not in trouble of any kindyourself, I hope?”
“Oh, rather not,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones.
“Well,” said Tommy, “perhaps you will—er—state the facts plainly.”
That, however, seemed to be the one thing that Mr. Montgomery Jonescould not do.
“It’s a dashed odd sort of thing I have got to ask you,” he said hesitat-ingly. “I—er—I really don’t know how to set about it.”
“We never touch divorce cases,” said Tommy.
“Oh Lord, no,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “I don’t mean that. It is just,well—it’s a deuced silly sort of a joke. That’s all.”
“Someone has played a practical joke on you of a mysterious nature?”
suggested Tommy.
But Mr. Montgomery Jones once more shook his head.
“Well,” said Tommy, retiring gracefully from the position, “take yourown time and let us have it in your own words.”
There was a pause.
“You see,” said Mr. Jones at last, “it was at dinner. I sat next to a girl.”
“Yes?” said Tommy encouragingly.
“She was a—oh well, I really can’t describe her, but she was simply oneof the most sporting girls I ever met. She’s an Australian, over here withanother girl, sharing a flat with her in Clarges Street. She’s simply gamefor anything. I absolutely can’t tell you the effect that girl had on me.”
“We can quite imagine it, Mr. Jones,” said Tuppence.
She saw clearly that if Mr. Montgomery Jones’s troubles were ever to beextracted a sympathetic feminine touch was needed, as distinct from thebusinesslike methods of Mr. Blunt.
“We can understand,” said Tuppence encouragingly.
“Well, the whole thing came as an absolute shock to me,” said Mr. Mont-gomery Jones, “that a girl could well—knock you over like that. There hadbeen another girl—in fact two other girls. One was awfully jolly and allthat, but I didn’t much like her chin. She danced marvellously though, andI have known her all my life, which makes a fellow feel kind of safe, youknow. And then there was one of the girls at the ‘Frivolity.’ Frightfullyamusing, but of course there would be a lot of ructions with the matterover that, and anyway I didn’t really want to marry either of them, but Iwas thinking about things, you know, and then—slap out of the blue—I satnext to this girl and—”
“The whole world was changed,” said Tuppence in a feeling voice.
Tommy moved impatiently in his chair. He was by now somewhatbored by the recital of Mr. Montgomery Jones’s love affairs.
“You put it awfully well,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “That is abso-lutely what it was like. Only, you know, I fancy she didn’t think much ofme. You mayn’t think it, but I am not terribly clever.”
“Oh, you mustn’t be too modest,” said Tuppence.
“Oh, I do realise that I am not much of a chap,” said Mr. Jones with anengaging smile. “Not for a perfectly marvellous girl like that. That is why Ijust feel I have got to put this thing through. It’s my only chance. She’ssuch a sporting girl that she would never go back on her word.”
“Well, I am sure we wish you luck and all that,” said Tuppence kindly.
“But I don’t exactly see what you want us to do.”
“Oh Lord,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “Haven’t I explained?”
“No,” said Tommy, “you haven’t.”
“Well, it was like this. We were talking about detective stories. Una—that’s her name—is just as keen about them as I am. We got talking aboutone in particular. It all hinges on an alibi. Then we got talking about alibisand faking them. Then I said—no, she said—now which of us was it thatsaid it?”
“Never mind which of you it was,” said Tuppence.
“I said it would be a jolly difficult thing to do. She disagreed—said it onlywanted a bit of brain work. We got all hot and excited about it and in theend she said, ‘I will make you a sporting offer. What do you bet that I canproduce an alibi that nobody can shake?’ ”
“‘Anything you like,’ I said, and we settled it then and there. She wasfrightfully cocksure about the whole thing. ‘It’s an odds on chance for me,’
she said. ‘Don’t be so sure of that,’ I said. ‘Supposing you lose and I ask youfor anything I like?’ She laughed and said she came of a gambling familyand I could.”
“Well?” said Tuppence as Mr. Jones came to a pause and looked at herappealingly.
“Well, don’t you see? It is up to me. It is the only chance I have got of get-ting a girl like that to look at me. You have no idea how sporting she is.
Last summer she was out in a boat and someone bet her she wouldn’tjump overboard and swim ashore in her clothes, and she did it.”
“It is a very curious proposition,” said Tommy. “I am not quite sure I yetunderstand it.”
“It is perfectly simple,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “You must be doingthis sort of thing all the time. Investigating fake alibis and seeing wherethey fall down.”
“Oh — er — yes, of course,” said Tommy. “We do a lot of that sort ofwork.”
“Someone has got to do it for me,” said Montgomery Jones. “I shouldn’tbe any good at that sort of thing myself. You have only got to catch her outand everything is all right. I dare say it seems rather a futile business toyou, but it means a lot to me and I am prepared to pay—er—all necessarywhatnots, you know.”
“That will be all right,” said Tuppence. “I am sure Mr. Blunt will takethis case on for you.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Tommy. “A most refreshing case, most re-freshing indeed.”
Mr. Montgomery Jones heaved a sigh of relief, pulled a mass of papersfrom his pocket and selected one of them. “Here it is,” he said. “She says, ‘Iam sending you proof I was in two distinct places at one and the sametime. According to one story I dined at the Bon Temps Restaurant in Sohoby myself, went to the Duke’s Theatre and had supper with a friend, Mr. leMarchant, at the Savoy — but I was also staying at the Castle Hotel,Torquay, and only returned to London on the following morning. Youhave got to find out which of the two stories is the true one and how Imanaged the other.’ ”
“There,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “Now you see what it is that I wantyou to do.”
“A most refreshing little problem,” said Tommy. “Very naive.”
“Here is Una’s photograph,” said Mr. Montgomery Jones. “You will wantthat.”
“What is the lady’s full name?” inquired Tommy.
“Miss Una Drake. And her address is 180 Clarges Street.”
“Thank you,” said Tommy. “Well, we will look into the matter for you,Mr. Montgomery Jones. I hope we shall have good news for you veryshortly.”
“I say, you know, I am no end grateful,” said Mr. Jones, rising to his feetand shaking Tommy by the hand. “It has taken an awful load off mymind.”
Having seen his client out, Tommy returned to the inner office. Tup-pence was at the cupboard that contained the classic library.
“Inspector French,” said Tuppence.
“Eh?” said Tommy.
“Inspector French, of course,” said Tuppence. “He always does alibis. Iknow the exact procedure. We have to go over everything and check it. Atfirst it will seem all right and then when we examine it more closely weshall find the flaw.”
“There ought not to be much difficulty about that,” agreed Tommy. “Imean, knowing that one of them is a fake to start with makes the thing al-most a certainty, I should say. That is what worries me.”
“I don’t see anything to worry about in that.”
“I am worrying about the girl,” said Tommy. “She will probably be let into marry that young man whether she wants to or not.”
“Darling,” said Tuppence, “don’t be foolish. Women are never the wildgamblers they appear. Unless that girl was already perfectly prepared tomarry that pleasant, but rather empty- headed young man, she wouldnever have let herself in for a wager of this kind. But, Tommy, believe me,she will marry him with more enthusiasm and respect if he wins thewager than if she has to make it easy for him some other way.”
“You do think you know about everything,” said her husband.
“I do,” said Tuppence.
“And now to examine our data,” said Tommy, drawing the papers to-wards him. “First the photograph—h’m—quite a nice looking girl—andquite a good photograph, I should say. Clear and easily recognisable.”
“We must get some other girls’ photographs,” said Tuppence.
“Why?”
“They always do,” said Tuppence. “You show four or five to waiters andthey pick out the right one.”
“Do you think they do?” said Tommy—“pick out the right one, I mean.”
“Well, they do in books,” said Tuppence.
“It is a pity that real life is so different from fiction,” said Tommy. “Nowthen, what have we here? Yes, this is the London lot. Dined at the BonTemps seven thirty. Went to Duke’s Theatre and saw Delphiniums Blue.
Counterfoil of theatre ticket enclosed. Supper at the Savoy with Mr. leMarchant. We can, I suppose, interview Mr. le Marchant.”
“That tells us nothing at all,” said Tuppence, “because if he is helping herto do it he naturally won’t give the show away. We can wash out anythinghe says now.”
“Well, here is the Torquay end,” went on Tommy. “Twelve o’clock fromPaddington, had lunch in the Restaurant Car, receipted bill enclosed.
Stayed at Castle Hotel for one night. Again receipted bill.”
“I think this is all rather weak,” said Tuppence. “Anyone can buy atheatre ticket, you need never go near the theatre. The girl just went toTorquay and the London thing is a fake.”
“If so, it is rather a sitter for us,” said Tommy. “Well, I suppose we mightas well go and interview Mr. le Marchant.”
Mr. le Marchant proved to be a breezy youth who betrayed no great sur-prise on seeing them.
“Una has got some little game on, hasn’t she?” he asked. “You neverknow what that kid is up to.”
“I understand, Mr. le Marchant,” said Tommy, “that Miss Drake had sup-per with you at the Savoy last Tuesday evening.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. le Marchant, “I know it was Tuesday becauseUna impressed it on me at the time and what’s more she made me write itdown in a little book.”
With some pride he showed an entry faintly pencilled. “Having supperwith Una. Savoy. Tuesday 19th.”
“Where had Miss Drake been earlier in the evening? Do you know?”
“She had been to some rotten show called Pink Peonies or something likethat. Absolute slosh, so she told me.”
“You are quite sure Miss Drake was with you that evening?”
Mr. le Marchant stared at him.
“Why, of course. Haven’t I been telling you.”
“Perhaps she asked you to tell us,” said Tuppence.
“Well, for a matter of fact she did say something that was rather dashedodd. She said—what was it now? ‘You think you are sitting here havingsupper with me, Jimmy, but really I am having supper two hundred milesaway in Devonshire.’ Now that was a dashed odd thing to say, don’t youthink so? Sort of astral body stuff. The funny thing is that a pal of mine,Dicky Rice, thought he saw her there.”
“Who is this Mr. Rice?”
“Oh, just a friend of mine. He had been down in Torquay staying withan aunt. Sort of old bean who is always going to die and never does. Dickyhad been down doing the dutiful nephew. He said, ‘I saw that Australiangirl one day—Una something or other. Wanted to go and talk to her, butmy aunt carried me off to chat with an old pussy in a bath chair.’ I said:
‘When was this?’ and he said, ‘Oh, Tuesday about tea time.’ I told him, ofcourse, that he had made a mistake, but it was odd, wasn’t it? With Unasaying that about Devonshire that evening?”
“Very odd,” said Tommy. “Tell me, Mr. le Marchant, did anyone youknow have supper near you at the Savoy?”
“Some people called Oglander were at the next table.”
“Do they know Miss Drake?”
“Oh yes, they know her. They are not frightful friends or anything ofthat kind.”
“Well, if there’s nothing more you can tell us, Mr. le Marchant, I thinkwe will wish you good morning.”
“Either that chap is an extraordinarily good liar,” said Tommy as theyreached the street, “or else he is speaking the truth.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “I have changed my opinion. I have a sort of feel-ing now that Una Drake was at the Savoy for supper that night.”
“We will now go to the Bon Temps,” said Tommy. “A little food forstarving sleuths is clearly indicated. Let’s just get a few girls’ photographsfirst.”
This proved rather more difficult than was expected. Turning into aphotographers and demanding a few assorted photographs, they were metwith a cold rebuff.
“Why are all the things that are so easy and simple in books so difficultin real life,” wailed Tuppence. “How horribly suspicious they looked.
What do you think they thought we wanted to do with the photographs?
We had better go and raid Jane’s flat.”
Tuppence’s friend Jane proved of an accommodating disposition andpermitted Tuppence to rummage in a drawer and select four specimens offormer friends of Jane’s who had been shoved hastily in to be out of sightand mind.
Armed with this galaxy of feminine beauty they proceeded to the BonTemps where fresh difficulties and much expense awaited them. Tommyhad to get hold of each waiter in turn, tip him and then produce the assor-ted photographs. The result was unsatisfactory. At least three of the photo-graphs were promising starters as having dined there last Tuesday. Theythen returned to the office where Tuppence immersed herself in an A.B.C.
“Paddington twelve o’clock. Torquay three thirty-five. That’s the trainand le Marchant’s friend, Mr. Sago or Tapioca or something saw her thereabout tea time.”
“We haven’t checked his statement, remember,” said Tommy. “If, as yousaid to begin with, le Marchant is a friend of Una Drake’s he may have in-vented this story.”
“Oh, we’ll hunt up Mr. Rice,” said Tuppence. “I have a kind of hunch thatMr. le Marchant was speaking the truth. No, what I am trying to get atnow is this. Una Drake leaves London by the twelve o’clock train, possiblytakes a room at a hotel and unpacks. Then she takes a train back to townarriving in time to get to the Savoy. There is one at four forty gets up toPaddington at nine ten.”
“And then?” said Tommy.
“And then,” said Tuppence frowning, “it is rather more difficult. There isa midnight train from Paddington down again, but she could hardly takethat, that would be too early.”
“A fast car,” suggested Tommy.
“H’m,” said Tuppence. “It is just on two hundred miles.”
“Australians, I have always been told, drive very recklessly.”
“Oh, I suppose it could be done,” said Tuppence. “She would arrive thereabout seven.”
“Are you supposing her to have nipped into her bed at the Castle Hotelwithout being seen? Or arriving there explaining that she had been out allnight and could she have her bill, please?”
“Tommy,” said Tuppence, “we are idiots. She needn’t have gone back toTorquay at all. She has only got to get a friend to go to the hotel there andcollect her luggage and pay her bill. Then you get the receipted bill withthe proper date on it.”
“I think on the whole we have worked out a very sound hypothesis,”
said Tommy. “The next thing to do is to catch the twelve o’clock train toTorquay tomorrow and verify our brilliant conclusions.”
Armed with a portfolio of photographs, Tommy and Tuppence duly es-tablished themselves in a first-class carriage the following morning, andbooked seats for the second lunch.
“It probably won’t be the same dining car attendants,” said Tommy.
“That would be too much luck to expect. I expect we shall have to travelup and down to Torquay for days before we strike the right ones.”
“This alibi business is very trying,” said Tuppence. “In books it is allpassed over in two or three paragraphs. Inspector Something thenboarded the train to Torquay and questioned the dining car attendantsand so ended the story.”
For once, however, the young couple’s luck was in. In answer to theirquestion the attendant who brought their bill for lunch proved to be thesame one who had been on duty the preceding Tuesday. What Tommycalled the ten- shilling touch then came into action and Tuppence pro-duced the portfolio.
“I want to know,” said Tommy, “if any of these ladies had lunch on thistrain on Tuesday last?”
In a gratifying manner worthy of the best detective fiction the man atonce indicated the photograph of Una Drake.
“Yes, sir, I remember that lady, and I remember that it was Tuesday, be-cause the lady herself drew attention to the fact, saying it was always theluckiest day in the week for her.”
“So far, so good,” said Tuppence as they returned to their compartment.
“And we will probably find that she booked at the hotel all right. It is goingto be more difficult to prove that she travelled back to London, but per-haps one of the porters at the station may remember.”
Here, however, they drew a blank, and crossing to the up platformTommy made inquiries of the ticket collector and of various porters. Afterthe distribution of half crowns as a preliminary to inquiring, two of theporters picked out one of the other photographs with a vague remem-brance that someone like that travelled to town by the four forty that af-ternoon, but there was no identification of Una Drake.
“But that doesn’t prove anything,” said Tuppence as they left the station.
“She may have travelled by that train and no one noticed her.”
“She may have gone from the other station, from Torre.”
“That’s quite likely,” said Tuppence, “however, we can see to that afterwe have been to the hotel.”
The Castle Hotel was a big one overlooking the sea. After booking aroom for the night and signing the register, Tommy observed pleasantly.
“I believe you had a friend of ours staying here last Tuesday. Miss UnaDrake.”
The young lady in the bureau beamed at him.
“Oh, yes, I remember quite well. An Australian young lady, I believe.”
At a sign from Tommy, Tuppence produced the photograph.
“That is rather a charming photograph of her, isn’t it?” said Tuppence.
“Oh, very nice, very nice indeed, quite stylish.”
“Did she stay here long?” inquired Tommy.
“Only the one night. She went away by the express the next morningback to London. It seemed a long way to come for one night, but of courseI suppose Australian ladies don’t think anything of travelling.”
“She is a very sporting girl,” said Tommy, “always having adventures. Itwasn’t here, was it, that she went out to dine with some friends, went for adrive in their car afterwards, ran the car into a ditch and wasn’t able toget home till morning?”
“Oh, no,” said the young lady. “Miss Drake had dinner here in the hotel.”
“Really,” said Tommy, “are you sure of that? I mean — how do youknow?”
“Oh, I saw her.”
“I asked because I understood she was dining with some friends inTorquay,” explained Tommy.
“Oh, no, sir, she dined here.” The young lady laughed and blushed alittle. “I remember she had on a most sweetly pretty frock. One of thosenew flowered chiffons all over pansies.”
“Tuppence, this tears it,” said Tommy when they had been shown up-stairs to their room.
“It does rather,” said Tuppence. “Of course that woman may be mis-taken. We will ask the waiter at dinner. There can’t be very many peoplehere just at this time of year.”
This time it was Tuppence who opened the attack.
“Can you tell me if a friend of mine was here last Tuesday?” she askedthe waiter with an engaging smile. “A Miss Drake, wearing a frock all overpansies, I believe.” She produced a photograph. “This lady.”
The waiter broke into immediate smiles of recognition.
“Yes, yes, Miss Drake, I remember her very well. She told me she camefrom Australia.”
“She dined here?”
“Yes. It was last Tuesday. She asked me if there was anything to do after-wards in the town.”
“Yes?”
“I told her the theatre, the Pavilion, but in the end she decided not to goand she stayed here listening to our orchestra.”
“Oh, damn!” said Tommy, under his breath.
“You don’t remember what time she had dinner, do you?” asked Tup-pence.
“She came down a little late. It must have been about eight o’clock.”
“Damn, Blast, and Curse,” said Tuppence as she and Tommy left the din-ing room. “Tommy, this is all going wrong. It seemed so clear and lovely.”
“Well, I suppose we ought to have known it wouldn’t all be plain sail-ing.”
“Is there any train she could have taken after that, I wonder?”
“Not one that would have landed her in London in time to go to the Sa-voy.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “as a last hope I am going to talk to the chamber-maid. Una Drake had a room on the same floor as ours.”
The chambermaid was a voluble and informative woman. Yes, she re-membered the young lady quite well. That was her picture right enough. Avery nice young lady, very merry and talkative. Had told her a lot aboutAustralia and the kangaroos.
The young lady rang the bell about half past nine and asked for herbottle to be filled and put in her bed, and also to be called the next morn-ing at half past seven—with coffee instead of tea.
“You did call her and she was in her bed?” asked Tuppence.
“Why, yes, Ma’am, of course.”
“Oh, I only wondered if she was doing exercises or anything,” said Tup-pence wildly. “So many people do in the early morning.”
“Well, that seems cast-iron enough,” said Tommy when the chamber-maid had departed. “There is only one conclusion to be drawn from it. It isthe London side of the thing that must be faked.”
“Mr. le Marchant must be a more accomplished liar than we thought,”
said Tuppence.
“We have a way of checking his statements,” said Tommy. “He saidthere were people sitting at the next table whom Una knew slightly. Whatwas their name—Oglander, that was it. We must hunt up these Oglanders,and we ought also to make inquiries at Miss Drake’s flat in Clarges Street.”
The following morning they paid their bill and departed somewhatcrestfallen.
Hunting out the Oglanders was fairly easy with the aid of the telephonebook. Tuppence this time took the offensive and assumed the character ofa representative of a new illustrated paper. She called on Mrs. Oglander,asking for a few details of their “smart” supper party at the Savoy on Tues-day evening. These details Mrs. Oglander was only too willing to supply.
Just as she was leaving Tuppence added carelessly. “Let me see, wasn’tMiss Drake sitting at the table next to you? Is it really true that she is en-gaged to the Duke of Perth? You know her, of course.”
“I know her slightly,” said Mrs. Oglander. “A very charming girl, I be-lieve. Yes, she was sitting at the next table to ours with Mr. le Marchant.
My girls know her better than I do.”
Tuppence’s next port of call was the flat in Clarges Street. Here she wasgreeted by Miss Marjory Leicester, the friend with whom Miss Drakeshared a flat.
“Do tell me what all this is about?” asked Miss Leicester plaintively.
“Una has some deep game on and I don’t know what it is. Of course sheslept here on Tuesday night.”
“Did you see her when she came in?”
“No, I had gone to bed. She has got her own latch key, of course. Shecame in about one o’clock, I believe.”
“When did you see her?”
“Oh, the next morning about nine—or perhaps it was nearer ten.”
As Tuppence left the flat she almost collided with a tall gaunt femalewho was entering.
“Excuse me, Miss, I’m sure,” said the gaunt female.
“Do you work here?” asked Tuppence.
“Yes, Miss, I come daily.”
“What time do you get here in the morning?”
“Nine o’clock is my time, Miss.”
Tuppence slipped a hurried half crown into the gaunt female’s hand.
“Was Miss Drake here last Tuesday morning when you arrived?”
“Why, yes, Miss, indeed she was. Fast asleep in her bed and hardly wokeup when I brought her in her tea.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Tuppence and went disconsolately down thestairs.
She had arranged to meet Tommy for lunch in a small restaurant inSoho and there they compared notes.
“I have seen that fellow Rice. It is quite true he did see Una Drake in thedistance at Torquay.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “we have checked these alibis all right. Here, giveme a bit of paper and a pencil, Tommy. Let us put it down neatly like alldetectives do.”
1:30
Una Drake seen in
Luncheon Car of train.
4 o’clock
Arrives at Castle Hotel.
5 o’clock
Seen by Mr. Rice.
8 o’clock
Seen dining at hotel.
9:30
Asks for hot water
bottle.
11:30
Seen at Savoy with Mr.
le Marchant.
7:30 a.m.
Called by chambermaid
at Castle Hotel.
9 o’clock.
Called by charwoman at
flat at Clarges Street.
They looked at each other.
“Well, it looks to me as if Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives are beat,” saidTommy.
“Oh, we mustn’t give up,” said Tuppence. “Somebody must be lying!”
“The queer thing is that it strikes me nobody was lying. They all seemedperfectly truthful and straightforward.”
“Yet there must be a flaw. We know there is. I think of all sorts of thingslike private aeroplanes, but that doesn’t really get us any forwarder.”
“I am inclined to the theory of an astral body.”
“Well,” said Tuppence, “the only thing to do is to sleep on it. Your sub-conscious works in your sleep.”
“H’m,” said Tommy. “If your subconscious provides you with a perfectlygood answer to this riddle by tomorrow morning, I take off my hat to it.”
They were very silent all that evening. Again and again Tuppence rever-ted to the paper of times. She wrote things on bits of paper. She mur-mured to herself, she sought perplexedly through Rail Guides. But in theend they both rose to go to bed with no faint glimmer of light on the prob-lem.
“This is very disheartening,” said Tommy.
“One of the most miserable evenings I have ever spent,” said Tuppence.
“We ought to have gone to a Music Hall,” said Tommy. “A few good jokesabout mothers-in-law and twins and bottles of beer would have done usno end of good.”
“No, you will see this concentration will work in the end,” said Tup-pence. “How busy our subconscious will have to be in the next eighthours!” And on this hopeful note they went to bed.
“Well,” said Tommy next morning. “Has the subconscious worked?”
“I have got an idea,” said Tuppence.
“You have. What sort of an idea?”
“Well, rather a funny idea. Not at all like anything I have ever read indetective stories. As a matter of fact it is an idea that you put into myhead.”
“Then it must be a good idea,” said Tommy firmly. “Come on, Tuppence,out with it.”
“I shall have to send a cable to verify it,” said Tuppence. “No, I am notgoing to tell you. It’s a perfectly wild idea, but it’s the only thing that fitsthe facts.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “I must away to the office. A roomful of disappoin-ted clients must not wait in vain. I leave this case in the hands of mypromising subordinate.”
Tuppence nodded cheerfully.
She did not put in an appearance at the office all day. When Tommy re-turned that evening about half past five it was to find a wildly exultantTuppence awaiting him.
“I have done it, Tommy. I have solved the mystery of the alibi. We cancharge up all these half crowns and ten-shilling notes and demand a sub-stantial fee of our own from Mr. Montgomery Jones and he can go right offand collect his girl.”
“What is the solution?” cried Tommy.
“A perfectly simple one,” said Tuppence. “Twins.”
“What do you mean?—Twins?”
“Why, just that. Of course it is the only solution. I will say you put it intomy head last night talking about mothers- in- law, twins, and bottles ofbeer. I cabled to Australia and got back the information I wanted. Una hasa twin sister, Vera, who arrived in England last Monday. That is why shewas able to make this bet so spontaneously. She thought it would be afrightful rag on poor Montgomery Jones. The sister went to Torquay andshe stayed in London.”
“Do you think she’ll be terribly despondent that she’s lost?” askedTommy.
“No,” said Tuppence, “I don’t. I gave you my views about that before.
She will put all the kudos down to Montgomery Jones. I always think re-spect for your husband’s abilities should be the foundation of marriedlife.”
“I am glad to have inspired these sentiments in you, Tuppence.”
“It is not a really satisfactory solution,” said Tuppence. “Not the ingeni-ous sort of flaw that Inspector French would have detected.”
“Nonsense,” said Tommy. “I think the way I showed these photographsto the waiter in the restaurant was exactly like Inspector French.”
“He didn’t have to use nearly so many half crowns and ten-shilling notesas we seem to have done,” said Tuppence.
“Never mind,” said Tommy. “We can charge them all up with additionsto Mr. Montgomery Jones. He will be in such a state of idiotic bliss that hewould probably pay the most enormous bill without jibbing at it.”
“So he should,” said Tuppence. “Haven’t Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives beenbrilliantly successful? Oh, Tommy, I do think we are extraordinarilyclever. It quite frightens me sometimes.”
“The next case we have shall be a Roger Sheringham case, and you, Tup-pence, shall be Roger Sheringham.”
“I shall have to talk a lot,” said Tuppence.
“You do that naturally,” said Tommy. “And now I suggest that we carryout my programme of last night and seek out a Music Hall where theyhave plenty of jokes about mothers-in-law, bottles of beer, and Twins.”
Fourteen THE CLERGYMAN’S DAUGHTER
Fourteen THE CLERGYMAN’S DAUGHTER

“I wish,” said Tuppence, roaming moodily round the office, “that we couldbefriend a clergyman’s daughter.”
“Why?” asked Tommy.
“You may have forgotten the fact, but I was once a clergyman’s daughtermyself. I remember what it was like. Hence this altruistic urge—this spiritof thoughtful consideration for others—this—”
“You are getting ready to be Roger Sheringham, I see,” said Tommy. “Ifyou will allow me to make a criticism, you talk quite as much as he does,but not nearly so well.”
“On the contrary,” said Tuppence. “There is a feminine subtlety aboutmy conversation, a je ne sais quoi that no gross male could ever attain to. Ihave, moreover, powers unknown to my prototype—do I mean prototype?
Words are such uncertain things, they so often sound well, but mean theopposite of what one thinks they do.”
“Go on,” said Tommy kindly.
“I was. I was only pausing to take breath. Touching these powers, it ismy wish today to assist a clergyman’s daughter. You will see, Tommy, thefirst person to enlist the aid of Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives will be a clergy-man’s daughter.”
“I’ll bet you it isn’t,” said Tommy.
“Done,” said Tuppence. “Hist! To your typewriters, Oh! Israel. Onecomes.”
Mr. Blunt’s office was humming with industry as Albert opened the doorand announced:
“Miss Monica Deane.”
A slender, brown-haired girl, rather shabbily dressed, entered and stoodhesitating. Tommy came forward.
“Good morning, Miss Deane. Won’t you sit down and tell us what we cando for you? By the way, let me introduce my confidential secretary, MissSheringham.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Deane,” said Tup-pence. “Your father was in the Church, I think.”
“Yes, he was. But how did you know that?”
“Oh! we have our methods,” said Tuppence. “You mustn’t mind me rat-tling on. Mr. Blunt likes to hear me talk. He always says it gives himideas.”
The girl stared at her. She was a slender creature, not beautiful, but pos-sessing a wistful prettiness. She had a quantity of soft mouse- colouredhair, and her eyes were dark blue and very lovely, though the dark shad-ows round them spoke of trouble and anxiety.
“Will you tell me your story, Miss Deane?” said Tommy.
The girl turned to him gratefully.
“It’s such a long rambling story,” said the girl. “My name is MonicaDeane. My father was the rector of Little Hampsley in Suffolk. He diedthree years ago, and my mother and I were left very badly off. I went outas a governess, but my mother became a confirmed invalid, and I had tocome home to look after her. We were desperately poor, but one day wereceived a lawyer’s letter telling us that an aunt of my father’s had diedand had left everything to me. I had often heard of this aunt, who hadquarrelled with my father many years ago, and I knew that she was verywell-off, so it really seemed that our troubles were at an end. But mattersdid not turn out quite as well as we had hoped. I inherited the house shehad lived in, but after paying one or two small legacies, there was nomoney left. I suppose she must have lost it during the war, or perhaps shehad been living on her capital. Still, we had the house, and almost at oncewe had a chance of selling it at quite an advantageous price. But, foolishlyperhaps, I refused the offer. We were in tiny, but expensive lodgings, and Ithought it would be much nicer to live in the Red House, where mymother could have comfortable rooms and take in paying guests to coverour expenses.
“I adhered to this plan, notwithstanding a further tempting offer fromthe gentleman who wanted to buy. We moved in, and I advertised for pay-ing guests. For a time, all went well, we had several answers to our advert-isement; my aunt’s old servant remained on with us, and she and Ibetween us did the work of the house. And then these unaccountablethings began to happen.”
“What things?”
“The queerest things. The whole place seemed bewitched. Pictures felldown, crockery flew across the room and broke; one morning we camedown to find all the furniture moved round. At first we thought someonewas playing a pracitcal joke, but we had to give up that explanation. Some-times when we were all sitting down to dinner, a terrific crash would beheard overhead. We would go up and find no one there, but a piece of fur-niture thrown violently to the ground.”
“A poltergeist,” cried Tuppence, much interested.
“Yes, that’s what Dr. O’Neill said—though I don’t know what it means.”
“It’s a sort of evil spirit that plays tricks,” explained Tuppence, who inreality knew very little about the subject, and was not even sure that shehad got the word poltergeist right.
“Well, at any rate, the effect was disastrous. Our visitors werefrightened to death, and left as soon as possible. We got new ones, andthey too left hurriedly. I was in despair, and, to crown all, our own tiny in-come ceased suddenly—the Company in which it was invested failed.”
“You poor dear,” said Tuppence sympathetically. “What a time you havehad. Did you want Mr. Blunt to investigate this ‘haunting’ business?”
“Not exactly. You see, three days ago, a gentleman called upon us. Hisname was Dr. O’Neill. He told us that he was a member of the Society forPhysical Research, and that he had heard about the curious manifestationsthat had taken place in our house and was much interested. So much so,that he was prepared to buy it from us, and conduct a series of experi-ments there.”
“Well?”
“Of course, at first, I was overcome with joy. It seemed the way out of allour difficulties. But—”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps you will think me fanciful. Perhaps I am. But—oh! I’m sure Ihaven’t made a mistake. It was the same man!”
“What same man?”
“The same man who wanted to buy it before. Oh! I’m sure I’m right.”
“But why shouldn’t it be?”
“You don’t understand. The two men were quite different, differentname and everything. The first man was quite young, a spruce, darkyoung man of thirty odd. Dr. O’Neill is about fifty, he has a grey beard andwears glasses and stoops. But when he talked I saw a gold tooth one sideof his mouth. It only shows when he laughs. The other man had a tooth injust the same position, and then I looked at his ears. I had noticed theother man’s ears, because they were a peculiar shape with hardly anylobe. Dr. O’Neill’s were just the same. Both things couldn’t be a coincid-ence, could they? I thought and thought and finally I wrote and said Iwould let him know in a week. I had noticed Mr. Blunt’s advertisementsome time ago—as a matter of fact in an old paper that lined one of thekitchen drawers. I cut it out and came up to town.”
“You were quite right,” said Tuppence, nodding her head with vigour.
“This needs looking into.”
“A very interesting case, Miss Deane,” observed Tommy.
“We shall be pleased to look into this for you—eh, Miss Sheringham?”
“Rather,” said Tuppence, “and we’ll get to the bottom of it too.”
“I understand, Miss Deane,” went on Tommy, “that the household con-sists of you and your mother and a servant. Can you give me any particu-lars about the servant?”
“Her name is Crockett. She was with my aunt about eight or ten years.
She is an elderly woman, not very pleasant in manner, but a good servant.
She is inclined to give herself airs because her sister married out of herstation. Crockett has a nephew whom she is always telling us is ‘quite thegentleman.’ ”
“H’m,” said Tommy, rather at a loss how to proceed.
Tuppence had been eyeing Monica keenly, now she spoke with suddendecision.
“I think the best plan would be for Miss Deane to come out and lunchwith me. It’s just one o’clock. I can get full details from her.”
“Certainly, Miss Sheringham,” said Tommy. “An excellent plan.”
“Look here,” said Tuppence, when they were comfortably ensconced ata little table in a neighbouring restaurant, “I want to know: Is there anyspecial reason why you want to find out about all this?”
Monica blushed.
“Well, you see—”
“Out with it,” said Tuppence encouragingly.
“Well—there are two men who—who—want to marry me.”
“The usual story, I suppose? One rich, one poor, and the poor one is theone you like!”
“I don’t know how you know all these things,” murmured the girl.
“That’s a sort of law of Nature,” explained Tuppence. “It happens toeverybody. It happened to me.”
“You see, even if I sell the house, it won’t bring us in enough to live on.
Gerald is a dear, but he’s desperately poor—though he’s a very clever en-gineer; and if only he had a little capital, his firm would take him intopartnership. The other, Mr. Partridge, is a very good man, I am sure—andwell-off, and if I married him, it would be an end to all our troubles. But—but—”
“I know,” said Tuppence sympathetically. “It isn’t the same thing at all.
You can go on telling yourself how good and worthy he is, and adding uphis qualities as though they were an addition sum—and it all has a simplyrefrigerating effect.”
Monica nodded.
“Well,” said Tuppence, “I think it would be as well if we went down tothe neighbourhood and studied matters upon the spot. What is the ad-dress?”
“The Red House, Stourton-in-the-Marsh.”
Tuppence wrote down the address in her notebook.
“I didn’t ask you,” Monica began—“about terms—” she ended, blushinga little.
“Our payments are strictly by results,” said Tuppence gravely. “If thesecret of the Red House is a profitable one, as seems possible from theanxiety displayed to acquire the property, we should expect a small per-centage, otherwise—nothing!”
“Thank you very much,” said the girl gratefully.
“And now,” said Tuppence, “don’t worry. Everything’s going to be allright. Let’s enjoy lunch and talk of interesting things.”
第十四章 牧师的女儿
第十四章 牧师的女儿
“我希望，”塔彭丝说，无聊地在办公室里踱来踱去，“这次我们能帮到一位牧师的女儿。”
“为什么？”汤米问道。
“你可能忘了，我自己曾经就是牧师的女儿。我十分清楚他们的为人，他们主张利他主义——崇尚一切为他人着想的精神——弘扬——”
“看来你做好准备扮演罗杰•薛灵汉探长了，”汤米说，“如果你允许我提点意见的话，我认为：你如他般滔滔不绝，却不如他般妙语连珠！”
“恰恰相反，”塔彭丝说，“我的话语更有一种女性的细腻。这可是一种“难以描述的好品质”，没有一个粗鲁的男人可以拥有。并且，我，有股潜在的力量促使我成为自己的榜样——‘榜样’的意思是什么？语言是多么不确定的东西，它们通常听起来恰如其分，而背后的意思却和您所想的截然相反。”
“继续说。”汤米温和地说。
“当然要说，我只是停下来喘口气。为了验证我的能力，我希望今天就能帮到一位牧师的女儿。你看吧，汤米，今天第一个来布兰特卓越侦探事务所登记寻求帮助的就会是一位牧师的女儿。”
“我打赌，绝对不是。”汤米说。
“好，一言为定，”塔彭丝说，“嘘！回到你的打字机前，哦，上帝啊，有人来了。”
布兰特先生的办公室里立刻一派忙碌的气氛，里面充斥着机器的嘀嗒声，这时阿尔伯特推门通报：
“莫尼卡•迪恩小姐来了。”
一个身材苗条，满头棕发，衣着寒酸的女孩走了进来。她进门后犹疑不安地站着。汤米走上前来，“早上好，迪恩小姐，您请坐。告诉我们能为您做点什么？另外，请允许我介绍我的机要秘书，薛灵汉小姐。”
“很高兴认识您，迪恩小姐，”塔彭丝说，“您父亲过去在教堂担任圣职吧，我猜。”
“是的，确实是。但您是怎么知道的？”
“哦，我们自有办法，”塔彭丝说，“您一定不要介意我多嘴，布兰特先生就喜欢听我说话，他说这样总能带给他灵感。”
这个女孩盯着她。她是个苗条的小东西，不漂亮，但是有一种沉静的美。她有一头柔软的灰褐色头发，一双深蓝色的可爱眼睛，但是眼圈的黑色阴影却诉说着忧郁和焦虑。
“能告诉我您遇到的麻烦吗，迪恩小姐？”汤米说。
女孩转身感激地看着他。
“说来话长，头绪烦乱，”女孩说，“我叫莫尼卡•迪恩。我的父亲是萨克福郡的小汉普斯利的教区长。他三年前就去世了，留下我和我母亲，当时我们过得十分窘迫，可以说是穷困潦倒，我只好出去做保姆。但雪上加霜的是，我母亲生了一场大病，我不得不回到家中照料她。但是有一天我们突然接到了一封律师函，上面说我父亲的一位姐姐去世了，把所有的遗产都留给了我。我以前经常听说这位姑妈，她多年前和我父亲吵过架，但是我知道她很有钱，所以似乎我们的苦日子真的到头了。但是事情并没有像我们希望的那样变好。
我继承了她生前的房子，但是在付完一两笔遗产税之后，我们就分文不剩了。我猜她一定在战争中失去了不少钱，或者可能生前生活十分奢侈。但是不管怎样，我们拥有了这套房子，而且我们立刻就有一个机会可以以极合适的价格卖掉它。但是可能这样做很蠢，我拒绝了这个买家。我们当时租住在一间小而昂贵的房间，我想住在红房子里会好很多，这样我母亲会有舒适的房间。我们还可以出租几间，用租金支付我们的生活费用。
“我一直坚持这个计划，尽管那位想买这幢房子的绅士出了更高的价格。我们搬进来，我登了出租房屋的广告。刚开始那段时间，一切顺利，看了广告后有几位客人住了进来；我姑妈原先的仆人留下来和我们住在一起。但是不久，一些意想不到的怪事就发生了。”
“什么样的怪事？”
“最不可思议的事情。整个地方好像被施了魔法。墙上的画作掉下来，摆放的陶器滚落到房间里，撞成碎片；一天上午我们下楼发现家具都挪动了地方。开始时我们以为有人在搞恶作剧，但是不久我发现并非如此。有一次，我们坐在一起吃晚饭，一声可怕的响声从头顶传来。我们上楼，却并没有发现什么人，只有一件家具被用力扔到了地上。”
“一个恶作剧鬼怪。”彭塔非常感兴趣地说。
“是的，这正是奥尼尔博士说的——尽管我并不知道那是什么意思。”
“那是一种总爱搞恶作剧的恶灵，”塔彭丝解释道，她实际上也不甚了解，甚至不“确定是否抓住了恶作剧鬼怪”这个说法的确切含义。
“哦，但是无论如何，这件事的影响非常坏。我们的房客都吓得要死，赶快搬走了。新来的租客，也很快就被吓走。我都要绝望了，而雪上加霜的是，我姑妈原先投资的那家小公司又倒闭了，靠此得到的那点微薄收入也突然没有了。”
“可怜的姑娘，”塔彭丝同情地说，“你过的什么日子啊。你想让布兰特先生调查这件‘悬案’吗？”
“不全是，三天前，一位绅士曾去过我家。他是奥尼尔博士。他告诉我们他是物理研究会的成员，他听说了发生在我们房子里的奇怪事情，非常感兴趣。所以，他准备从我们手中买下这幢房子，以便在里面做一系列实验。”
“哦，真的？”
“当然，一开始，我欣喜若狂，因为似乎这是解救我们走出困境的一条路。但是——”
“什么？”
“可能您会认为我多疑，但是——啊，我确信我没有弄错。是同一个人！”
“什么同一个人？”
“和先前想买下这幢房子的是同一个人。啊！我确信是同一个人。”
“但是为什么呢？”
“您不知道，这两个人完全不同，不仅名字不同，而且一切都不相同。第一个人十分年轻，衣着整洁，皮肤黝黑，三十多岁。但奥尼尔博士大约五十岁，灰色胡须，戴一副眼镜，有些驼背。但是我和他谈话时，我看到了他嘴角边露出的一颗金牙。只有在他笑的时候才能看到。另外那个人也在同一位置有颗这样的牙，然后我仔细观察他的耳朵。我注意过另一个人的耳朵，因为耳垂形状十分特别。奥尼尔博士的耳朵也正是这样。这两件事不可能是巧合，对吧？我想了又想，最后我写信给他说我一周内答复。前段时间我看到了布兰特先生的广告——实际上是从垫在橱柜里的一张旧报纸上看到的。我便把报纸剪下，直接进城来了。”
“你做得很对，”塔彭丝精神十足地说，“这确实需要调查一下。”
“这是一个有趣的案子，迪恩小姐。”汤米说道。
“我们很高兴为您调查这件事——是吧，薛灵汉小姐？”
“责无旁贷，”塔彭丝说，“我们一定会把这件事查个水落石出。”
“据您描述，迪恩小姐，”汤米接着说，“那幢房子里住着您和您的母亲，还有一位仆人。您能详细介绍一下那位仆人吗？”
“她叫克罗克特，跟了我姑妈大约八年或十年。她上了年纪，脾气不太好，但是位好仆人。她总是神气活现，因为她姐姐嫁给了一位颇有地位的人。克罗克特有个侄子，她总是说他是个‘体面的’绅士。”
“哦。”汤米说，有些困窘竟然不知该怎么问下去。
塔彭丝一直审视着莫尼卡，现在她突然果断发话。
“我认为最好是邀请迪恩小姐和我共进午餐。现在恰好一点整，她会趁此向我详细介绍所有的细节。”
“当然，薛灵汉小姐，”汤米赞同说，“这是个绝妙的主意。”
“我说，”塔彭丝说，当他们舒服地安顿在旁边一家餐馆里的一张小桌旁时，“我想知道的是：有没有什么特殊的原因，让您想搞清楚发生的这一切？”
莫尼卡脸红了。
“好吧，您知道——”
“说出来吧。”塔彭丝鼓励道。
“嗯——有两个男人，他们——他们——都想娶我。”
“又是那类俗套的故事，我猜？一个富有，一个贫穷，而贫穷的这个恰是你心仪的！”
“我不知道您怎么这样料事如神。”这个女孩喃喃道。
“这是种自然规律，”塔彭丝解释道，“每个人都会遇到这样的事情，我也不例外。”
“您不知道，即使我卖掉这幢房子，得到的钱也不足以维持生活。杰拉尔德是多好的人儿啊，但是他非常穷——尽管他是位非常有才华的工程师。只要有一小笔资金，他的公司就会吸收他做合伙人。另一位，帕特里奇先生，人也不错，我确信——他十分富有，如果我嫁给他，我们就能摆脱困境。但是——但是——”
“我明白，”塔彭丝同情地说，“这根本不是一回事。你可以一直告诉自己他有多么好，多么值得珍惜，再加上他的美德，似乎它们都是附赠品——但这些都激不起你对他的热情。”
莫尼卡点点头。
“好吧，”塔彭丝说，“我想我们最好去现场勘查一下。您的地址是——？”
“红房子，在马什的斯特顿镇。”
塔彭丝在笔记本上写下这个地址。
“我还没有问您——”莫尼卡开口道，“关于费用——”她住了口，脸微微涨红了。
“我们的收费取决于调查结果，”塔彭丝严肃地说，“如果红房子的秘密有利可图，比如有人急于想买到这幢房子而出高价，那我们可以拿到一小笔提成，否则——免费。”
“太感谢您了。”这个女孩感激地说。
“那么现在，”塔彭丝说，“别担心，一切都会好的。让我们享受午餐，聊点有趣的事吧。”
Fifteen THE RED HOUSE
Fifteen THE RED HOUSE

“Well,” said Tommy, looking out of the window of the Crown and Anchor,“here we are at Toad in the Hole — or whatever this blasted village iscalled.”
“Let us review the case,” said Tuppence.
“By all means,” said Tommy. “To begin with, getting my say in first, Isuspect the invalid mother!”
“Why?”
“My dear Tuppence, grant that this poltergeist business is all a put-upjob, got up in order to persuade the girl to sell the house, someone musthave thrown the things about. Now the girl said everyone was at dinner—but if the mother is a thoroughgoing invalid, she’d be upstairs in herroom.”
“If she was an invalid she could hardly throw furniture about.”
“Ah! but she wouldn’t be a real invalid. She’d be shamming.”
“Why?”
“There you have me,” confessed her husband. “I was really going on thewell-known principle of suspecting the most unlikely person.”
“You always make fun of everything,” said Tuppence severely. “Theremust be something that makes these people so anxious to get hold of thehouse. And if you don’t care about getting to the bottom of this matter, Ido. I like that girl. She’s a dear.”
Tommy nodded seriously enough.
“I quite agree. But I never can resist ragging you, Tuppence. Of course,there’s something queer about the house, and whatever it is, it’s some-thing that’s difficult to get at. Otherwise a mere burglary would do thetrick. But to be willing to buy the house means either that you’ve got totake up floors or pull down walls, or else that there’s a coal mine underthe back garden.”
“I don’t want it to be a coal mine. Buried treasure is much more ro-mantic.”
“H’m,” said Tommy. “In that case I think that I shall pay a visit to thelocal Bank Manager, explain that I am staying here over Christmas andprobably buying the Red House, and discuss the question of opening anaccount.”
“But why—?”
“Wait and see.”
Tommy returned at the end of half an hour. His eyes were twinkling.
“We advance, Tuppence. Our interview proceeded on the lines indic-ated. I then asked casually whether he had had much gold paid in, as is of-ten the case nowadays in these small country banks—small farmers whohoarded it during the war, you understand. From that we proceeded quitenaturally to the extraordinary vagaries of old ladies. I invented an auntwho on the outbreak of war drove to the Army and Navy Stores in a four-wheeler, and returned with sixteen hams. He immediately mentioned aclient of his own, who had insisted on drawing out every penny of moneyshe had—in gold as far as possible, and who also insisted on having her se-curities, bearer bonds and such things, given into her own custody. I ex-claimed on such an act of folly, and he mentioned casually that she wasthe former owner of the Red House. You see, Tuppence? She drew out allthis money, and she hid it somewhere. You remember that Monica Deanementioned that they were astonished at the small amount of her estate?
Yes, she hid it in the Red House, and someone knows about it. I can make apretty good guess who that someone is too.”
“Who?”
“What about the faithful Crockett? She would know all about her mis-tress’s peculiarities.”
“And that gold-toothed Dr. O’Neill?”
“The gentlemanly nephew, of course! That’s it. But whereabouts did shehide it. You know more about old ladies than I do, Tuppence. Where dothey hide things?”
“Wrapped up in stockings and petticoats, under mattresses.”
Tommy nodded.
“I expect you’re right. All the same, she can’t have done that because itwould have been found when her things were turned over. It worries me—you see, an old lady like that can’t have taken up floors or dug holes inthe garden. All the same it’s there in the Red House somewhere. Crocketthasn’t found it, but she knows it’s there, and once they get the house tothemselves, she and her precious nephew, they can turn it upside downuntil they find what they’re after. We’ve got to get ahead of them. Comeon, Tuppence. We’ll go to the Red House.”
Monica Deane received them. To her mother and Crockett they wererepresented as would-be purchasers of the Red House, which would ac-count for their being taken all over the house and grounds. Tommy didnot tell Monica of the conclusions he had come to, but he asked her vari-ous searching questions. Of the garments and personal belongings of thedead woman, some had been given to Crockett and the others sent to vari-ous poor families. Everything had been gone through and turned out.
“Did your aunt leave any papers?”
“The desk was full, and there were some in a drawer in her bedroom,but there was nothing of importance amongst them.”
“Have they been thrown away?”
“No, my mother is always very loath to throw away old papers. Therewere some old- fashioned recipes among them which she intends to gothrough one day.”
“Good,” said Tommy approvingly. Then, indicating an old man who wasat work upon one of the flower beds in the garden, he asked: “Was that oldman the gardener here in your aunt’s time?”
“Yes, he used to come three days a week. He lives in the village. Poor oldfellow, he is past doing any really useful work. We have him just once aweek to keep things tidied up. We can’t afford more.”
Tommy winked at Tuppence to indicate that she was to keep Monicawith her, and he himself stepped across to where the gardener was work-ing. He spoke a few pleasant words to the old man, asked him if he hadbeen there in the old lady’s time, and then said casually.
“You buried a box for her once, didn’t you?”
“No, sir, I never buried naught for her. What should she want to bury abox for?”
Tommy shook his head. He strolled back to the house frowning. It wasto be hoped that a study of the old lady’s papers would yield some clue—otherwise the problem was a hard one to solve. The house itself was old-fashioned, but not old enough to contain a secret room or passage.
Before leaving, Monica brought them down a big cardboard box tiedwith string.
“I’ve collected all the papers,” she whispered. “And they’re in here. Ithought you could take it away with you, and then you’ll have plenty oftime to go over them—but I’m sure you won’t find anything to throw lighton the mysterious happenings in this house—”
Her words were interrupted by a terrific crash overhead. Tommy ranquickly up the stairs. A jug and a basin in one of the front rooms was lyingon the ground broken to pieces. There was no one in the room.
“The ghost up to its tricks again,” he murmured with a grin.
He went downstairs again thoughtfully.
“I wonder, Miss Deane, if I might speak to the maid, Crockett, for aminute.”
“Certainly. I will ask her to come to you.”
Monica went off to the kitchen. She returned with the elderly maid whohad opened the door to them earlier.
“We are thinking of buying this house,” said Tommy pleasantly, “andmy wife was wondering whether, in that case, you would care to remainon with us?”
Crockett’s respectable face displayed no emotion of any kind.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I should like to think it over if I may.”
Tommy turned to Monica.
“I am delighted with the house, Miss Deane. I understand that there isanother buyer in the market. I know what he has offered for the house,and I will willingly give a hundred more. And mind you, that is a goodprice I am offering.”
Monica murmured something noncommittal, and the Beresfords tooktheir leave.
“I was right,” said Tommy, as they went down the drive, “Crockett’s in it.
Did you notice that she was out of breath? That was from running downthe backstairs after smashing the jug and basin. Sometimes, very likely,she has admitted her nephew secretly, and he has done a little poltergeist-ing, or whatever you call it, whilst she has been innocently with the fam-ily. You’ll see Dr. O’Neill will make a further offer before the day is out.”
True enough, after dinner, a note was brought. It was from Monica.
“I have just heard from Dr. O’Neill. He raises his previous offer by?150.”
“The nephew must be a man of means,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “AndI tell you what, Tuppence, the prize he’s after must be well worthwhile.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh! if only we could find it!”
“Well, let’s get on with the spade work.”
They were sorting through the big box of papers, a wearisome affair, asthey were all jumbled up pell-mell without any kind of order or method.
Every few minutes they compared notes.
“What’s the latest, Tuppence?”
“Two old receipted bills, three unimportant letters, a recipe for pre-serving new potatoes and one for making lemon cheesecake. What’syours?”
“One bill, a poem on Spring, two newspaper cuttings: ‘Why Women buyPearls—a sound investment,’ and ‘Man with Four Wives—ExtraordinaryStory,’ and a recipe for Jugged Hare.”
“It’s heartbreaking,” said Tuppence, and they fell to once more. At lastthe box was empty. They looked at each other.
“I put this aside,” said Tommy, picking up a half sheet of notepaper, “be-cause it struck me as peculiar. But I don’t suppose it’s got anything to dowith what we’re looking for.”
“Let’s see it. Oh! it’s one of these funny things, what do they call them?
Anagrams, charades or something.” She read it:
“My first you put on glowing coal
And into it you put my whole;
My second really is the first;
My third mislikes the winter blast.”
“H’m,” said Tommy critically. “I don’t think much of the poet’s rhymes.”
“I don’t see what you find peculiar about it, though,” said Tuppence.
“Everybody used to have a collection of these sort of things about fiftyyears ago. You saved them up for winter evenings round the fire.”
“I wasn’t referring to the verse. It’s the words written below it thatstrike me as peculiar.”
“St. Luke, xi, 9,” she read. “It’s a text.”
“Yes. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Would an old lady of a religiouspersuasion write a text just under a charade?”
“It is rather odd,” agreed Tuppence thoughtfully.
“I presume that you, being a clergyman’s daughter, have got your Biblewith you?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. Aha! you didn’t expect that. Wait a sec.”
Tuppence ran to her suitcase, extracted a small red volume and re-turned to the table. She turned the leaves rapidly. “Here we are. Luke,chapter xi, verse 9. Oh! Tommy, look.”
Tommy bent over and looked where Tuppence’s small finger pointed toa portion of the verse in question.
“Seek and ye shall find.”
“That’s it,” cried Tuppence. “We’ve got it! Solve the cryptogram and thetreasure is ours—or rather Monica’s.”
“Well, let’s get to work on the cryptogram, as you call it. ‘My first you puton glowing coal.’ What does that mean, I wonder? Then—‘My second reallyis the first.’ That’s pure gibberish.”
“It’s quite simple, really,” said Tuppence kindly. “It’s just a sort of knack.
Let me have it.”
Tommy surrendered it willingly. Tuppence ensconced herself in an arm-chair, and began muttering to herself with bent brows.
“It’s quite simple, really,” murmured Tommy when half an hour hadelapsed.
“Don’t crow! We’re the wrong generation for this. I’ve a good mind to goback to town tomorrow and call on some old pussy who would probablyread it as easy as winking. It’s a knack, that’s all.”
“Well, let’s have one more try.”
“There aren’t many things you can put on glowing coal,” said Tuppencethoughtfully. “There’s water, to put it out, or wood, or a kettle.”
“It must be one syllable, I suppose? What about wood, then?”
“You couldn’t put anything into wood, though.”
“There’s no one syllable word instead of water, but there must be onesyllable things you can put on a fire in the kettle line.”
“Saucepans,” mused Tuppence. “Frying pans. How about pan? or pot?
What’s a word beginning pan or pot that is something you cook?”
“Pottery,” suggested Tommy. “You bake that in the fire. Wouldn’t that benear enough?”
“The rest of it doesn’t fit. Pancakes? No. Oh! bother.”
They were interrupted by the little serving maid, who told them thatdinner would be ready in a few minutes.
“Only Mrs. Lumley, she wanted to know if you like your potatoes fried,or boiled in their jackets? She’s got some of each.”
“Boiled in their jackets,” said Tuppence promptly. “I love potatoes—”
She stopped dead with her mouth open.
“What’s the matter, Tuppence? Have you seen a ghost?”
“Tommy,” cried Tuppence. “Don’t you see? That’s it! The word, I mean.
Potatoes! ‘My first you put on glowing coal’—that’s pot. ‘And into it you putmy whole.’ ‘My second really is the first.’ That’s A, the first letter of the al-phabet. ‘My third mislikes the wintry blast’—cold toes of course!”
“You’re right, Tuppence. Very clever of you. But I’m afraid we’ve wastedan awful lot of time over nothing. Potatoes don’t fit in at all with missingtreasure. Half a sec, though. What did you read out just now, when wewere going through the box? Something about a recipe for New Potatoes. Iwonder if there’s anything in that.”
He rummaged hastily through the pile of recipes.
“Here it is. ‘To KEEP NEW POTATOES. Put the new potatoes into tins andbury them in the garden. Even in the middle of winter, they will taste asthough freshly dug.’
“We’ve got it,” screamed Tuppence. “That’s it. The treasure is in thegarden, buried in a tin.”
“But I asked the gardener. He said he’d never buried anything.”
“Yes, I know, but that’s because people never really answer what yousay, they answer what they think you mean. He knew he’d never buriedanything out of the common. We’ll go tomorrow and ask him where heburied the potatoes.”
The following morning was Christmas Eve. By dint of inquiry they foundthe old gardener’s cottage. Tuppence broached the subject after someminutes’ conversation.
“I wish one could have new potatoes at Christmas time,” she remarked.
“Wouldn’t they be good with turkey? Do people round here ever burythem in tins? I’ve heard that keeps them fresh.”
“Ay, that they do,” declared the old man. “Old Miss Deane, up to the RedHouse, she allus had three tins buried every summer, and as often as notforgot to have ’em dug up again!”
“In the bed by the house, as a rule, didn’t she?”
“No, over against the wall by the fir tree.”
Having got the information they wanted, they soon took their leave ofthe old man, presenting him with five shillings as a Christmas box.
“And now for Monica,” said Tommy.
“Tommy! You have no sense of the dramatic. Leave it to me. I’ve got abeautiful plan. Do you think you could manage to beg, borrow or steal aspade?”
Somehow or other, a spade was duly produced, and that night, late, twofigures might have been seen stealing into the grounds of the Red House.
The place indicated by the gardener was easily found, and Tommy set towork. Presently his spade rang on metal, and a few seconds later he hadunearthed a big biscuit tin. It was sealed round with adhesive plaster andfirmly fastened down, but Tuppence, by the aid of Tommy’s knife, soonmanaged to open it. Then she gave a groan. The tin was full of potatoes.
She poured them out, so that the tin was completely empty, but there wereno other contents.
“Go on digging, Tommy.”
It was some time before a second tin rewarded their search. As before,Tuppence unsealed it.
“Well?” demanded Tommy anxiously.
“Potatoes again!”
“Damn!” said Tommy, and set to once more.
“The third time is lucky,” said Tuppence consolingly.
“I believe the whole thing’s a mare’s nest,” said Tommy gloomily, but hecontinued to dig.
At last a third tin was brought to light.
“Potatoes aga—” began Tuppence, then stopped. “Oh, Tommy, we’ve gotit. It’s only potatoes on top. Look!”
She held up a big old-fashioned velvet bag.
“Cut along home,” cried Tommy. “It’s icy cold. Take the bag with you. Imust shovel back the earth. And may a thousand curses light upon yourhead, Tuppence, if you open that bag before I come!”
“I’ll play fair. Ouch! I’m frozen.” She beat a speedy retreat.
On arrival at the inn she had not long to wait. Tommy was hard uponher heels, perspiring freely after his digging and the final brisk run.
“Now then,” said Tommy, “the private inquiry agents make good! Openthe loot, Mrs. Beresford.”
Inside the bag was a package done up in oil silk and a heavy chamoisleather bag. They opened the latter first. It was full of gold sovereigns.
Tommy counted them.
“Two hundred pounds. That was all they would let her have, I suppose.
Cut open the package.”
Tuppence did so. It was full of closely folded banknotes. Tommy andTuppence counted them carefully. They amounted to exactly twenty thou-sand pounds.
“Whew!” said Tommy. “Isn’t it lucky for Monica that we’re both rich andhonest? What’s that done up in tissue paper?”
Tuppence unrolled the little parcel and drew out a magnificent string ofpearls, exquisitely matched.
“I don’t know much about these things,” said Tommy slowly. “But I’mpretty sure that those pearls are worth another five thousand pounds atleast. Look at the size of them. Now I see why the old lady kept that cuttingabout pearls being a good investment. She must have realised all her se-curities and turned them into notes and jewels.”
“Oh, Tommy, isn’t it wonderful? Darling Monica. Now she can marryher nice young man and live happily ever afterwards, like me.”
“That’s rather sweet of you, Tuppence. So you are happy with me?”
“As a matter of fact,” said Tuppence, “I am. But I didn’t mean to say so. Itslipped out. What with being excited, and Christmas Eve, and one thingand another—”
“If you really love me,” said Tommy, “will you answer me one ques-tion?”
“I hate these catches,” said Tuppence, “but—well—all right.”
“Then how did you know that Monica was a clergyman’s daughter?”
“Oh, that was just cheating,” said Tuppence happily. “I opened her lettermaking an appointment, and a Mr. Deane was father’s curate once, and hehad a little girl called Monica, about four or five years younger than me.
So I put two and two together.”
“You are a shameless creature,” said Tommy. “Hullo, there’s twelveo’clock striking. Happy Christmas, Tuppence.”
“Happy Christmas, Tommy. It’ll be a Happy Christmas for Monica too—and all owing to US. I am glad. Poor thing, she has been so miserable. Doyou know, Tommy, I feel all queer and choky about the throat when Ithink of it.”
“Darling Tuppence,” said Tommy.
“Darling Tommy,” said Tuppence. “How awfully sentimental we are get-ting.”
“Christmas comes but once a year,” said Tommy sententiously. “That’swhat our great-grandmothers said, and I expect there’s a lot of truth in itstill.”
第十五章 红房子
第十五章 红房子
“嗯，”汤米透过“皇冠和锚”旅店的窗户向外望去，“现在我们到了‘癞蛤蟆进洞’镇——管它叫什么该死的名字。”
“让我们捋一捋这个案子。”塔彭丝说。
“当然，”汤米说，“首先，我要谈谈我的看法，我认为那位生病的母亲嫌疑最大！”
“为什么？”
“我亲爱的塔彭丝，假设这个‘恶作剧鬼怪’事件是个阴谋，目的是促使这个女孩卖掉这所房子，那肯定有人在屋里乱扔东西。这个女孩曾说所有人都在吃晚饭——但是有一个例外——那位母亲完全不能动，她一定待在楼上自己的房间里。”
“如果她没有行动能力，那她也不能到处扔家具。”
“啊哈！但是如果她不是真的没有行动能力呢？她可能是装的。”
“那她的动机呢？”
“这下可难倒我了。”她的丈夫承认道，“我实际上是继续秉承那条著名的侦破原则——重点怀疑那些貌似最不可能的人。”
“你总是异想天开，”塔彭丝严肃地说，“这其中一定有什么原因让那些人急于得到这幢房子。如果你不愿意去弄个水落石出，我去。我喜欢这个女孩，她是个可爱的姑娘。”
汤米十分严肃地点点头。
“我十分赞同，但我只是一直忍不住和你开玩笑而已，塔彭丝。当然，这所房子里发生的事情是有些奇怪，不管是什么秘密，肯定不那么容易破解。否则只要找个窃贼不就解决问题了，何必玩这种把戏？但是愿意买下这幢房子，就意味着要翻墙挖地，掘地三尺；要不就是后花园的地下有一座煤矿。”
“我不认为它是座煤矿，那下面埋藏着宝藏更浪漫些。”
“嗯，”汤米说，“既然这样，我想我去应该拜访一下当地银行的经理，就说我要在这儿待到圣诞节，有可能会买下红房子，要和他讨论一下银行开户的问题。”
“但是，为什么——”
“等着瞧吧。”
汤米半个小时后回来了，双眼兴奋地闪烁着。
“我们有进展了，塔彭丝。我们的会谈有了一丝眉目。我当时故作随意地问，是否有人在他们银行存过黄金，现在这种事经常在乡村小银行发生——一些小农场主在战争中囤积了大量黄金，你知道。接着我们很自然地谈到那些老太太的古怪行径。我编造说有一个姑妈，她在战争爆发时，坐四轮马车去过海军商店，回来时，车上居然带回来十六只火腿。
他随即提到了他的一位顾客，说她坚持要把自己存在银行的每一分钱都尽可能地兑成——金子，还执意兑换了所有证券和无记名债券之类的东西，全部由她自己保管。我感叹说这样做太愚蠢了，而他随口说她就是红房子的前任主人。明白了吧，塔彭丝？她取出了自己所有的钱，藏在了什么地方。你还记得莫尼卡提到她的财产少得令人吃惊吗？是的，她把钱藏在了红房子里，并且有人知道这事。我能很有把握地猜出这个人是谁。”
“谁？”
“那个忠诚的克拉克特怎么样？她应该了解她主人的所有怪癖。”
“那么那个镶金牙的奥尼尔博士呢？”
“当然就是那个很绅士派头的侄子啊！正是他。但是她到底把钱藏在哪儿了呢。你比我了解那些老太太，塔彭丝。他们一般把东西藏在哪儿？”
“捆好装在袜子或裙子里，塞在床垫下面。”
汤米点点头。
“我希望你是对的。但是，她并没这么做，因为如果这样的话，她的东西早就被翻得底朝天了。让我百思不得其解的也是这点——你知道，一个那样的老太太不可能撬起地板，也不可能在花园里挖个大坑。那这钱就一定依然还在红房子里。克拉克特还没有找到它，但是她知道钱就藏在红房子里，而一旦这幢房子到了他们自己手中，她和她那装腔作势的侄子，就会把这幢房子翻个底朝天，直到找到他们要的东西。我们一定要赶在他们前面。
来吧，塔彭丝，去红房子。”
莫尼卡•迪恩热情地迎接他们，对她母亲和克拉克特，就介绍说他们想买红房子，这样就可以让两人到房子和院子中到处转转。汤米没有告诉莫尼卡他的结论，而是问了她各种令人不舒服的问题。那位去世的老太太的部分衣物和私人物品，一些送给了克拉克特，其他送给了几个贫穷的人家。每样细小的东西都被仔细检查过。
“您姑妈留下些什么文件没有？”
“有，书桌塞得满满的，还有一些在她卧室的抽屉里，但是没有什么重要的。”
“扔掉了吗？”
“没有，我母亲一直不喜欢扔掉旧文件。其中有一些老食谱，她想哪天仔细看一遍。”
“好，”汤米赞许地说，然后指了指在花园中的花圃里工作的老人问道，“你姑妈在世时那位老人就是这儿的园丁吗？”
“是的，他一般一周来工作三天，他住在小镇里。可怜的老家伙，他实际上已经做不了什么有用的活了，我们一周让他来一次收拾一下，我们付不起更多工资。”
汤米对塔彭丝使了个眼色，让她陪着莫尼卡，而他自己却走到那园丁工作的地方，问他老夫人在世的时候他是否在这儿干活，然后不经意地问道：
“你曾经替她埋过一个箱子，对不对？”
“没有，先生，我从没有替她埋过什么玩意。她埋个箱子干什么？”
汤米摇摇头，皱着眉踱回房子里。只能希望在那老太太的文件中会找到一些线索——否则这个问题将会十分棘手。这是幢老式的房子，但是还没有老到那个程度——里面有个密室或通道什么的。
离开前，莫尼卡给他们拿下来一个用绳子捆好的大纸箱。
“我收集了所有文件，”她小声说，“都在这儿了。我想你们可以带走这些，这样你们就会有充足的时间检查一遍——但是我不确定你们能从中发现什么线索来解开这幢房子的秘密。”
她的话被头顶一声可怕的“咔嚓”声打断了。汤米飞快地跑上楼梯，只见前面房间的一把水壶和一个盆摔得粉碎，撒满一地。房间里并没有人。
“这个鬼怪又在耍他的把戏。”他咧嘴一笑，自言自语。
他沉思着再次下了楼。
“我想，迪恩小姐，我能不能和那位女仆——克拉克特小姐谈一谈？”
莫尼卡起身去了厨房，带着那位年长的仆人回来，她先前曾为他们开门。
“我们正在考虑买下这所房子，”汤米愉快地说，“我的太太在想，既然这样，您能不能留下来？”
克拉克特那高傲的脸上没有一丝表情。
“谢谢您，先生，”她说，“我会考虑的。”
汤米转过身面对着莫尼卡。
“我对这房子很满意，迪恩小姐，我知道还有一位买家，也知道他给这所房子出的价，我还会多出一百英镑。而且，您注意，我出的可是好价钱。”
莫尼卡低声嘟囔了几句，贝尔斯福德夫妇就告辞离开了。
“我的推测是对的，”汤米说，当他们走到屋外的车道上时，“克拉克特肯定脱不了干系。你没注意到她刚才上气不接下气吗？那是因为摔碎了水壶和盆子之后，她刚从后面楼梯跑下来。她时不时让她的侄子悄悄潜进来，由他来制造一些‘灵异’事件，随你叫什么吧，而她却无辜地和全家待在一起。你看吧，今天晚上，奥尼尔博士就会出一个更高的价格。”
果然，晚饭后，一个便条捎过来，是莫尼卡叫人送来的。
“我刚刚从奥尼尔那里得到消息，他把先前的价格提高了一百五十镑。”
“那个侄子一定诡计多端。”汤米沉思道，“我告诉你什么来着，塔彭丝，他要得到的回报一定很可观。”
“是，是，是，但愿我们能揭开真相！”
“好，我们开始艰苦繁重的准备工作吧。”
他们开始整理这一大箱子文件，这是一件十分乏味的工作，因为这些文件杂乱无章地混在一起。每隔几分钟他们就交流一下情况。
“有什么发现没有，塔彭丝？”
“两份老的烹饪菜单，三封不重要的信件，一个土豆保鲜的方子，一个柠檬奶油蛋糕的配方。你呢？”
“一张账单，一首歌颂春天的诗，两份剪报：‘为什么女人买珠宝——理性投资’，另一份是‘一个男人，四个妻子——一个离奇的故事’，一份炖兔肉的菜谱。”
“太让人失望了。”塔彭丝泄气地说。然后，两人继续这无聊的工作。最后，那个箱子终于翻捡完了，两人你看我，我看你，一无所获。
“先把这些放一边，”汤米说，拿起半页报纸，“因为它让我觉得有点不寻常。但是我不认为这和我们正忙活的事有什么关系。”
“让我们看看。哦！一种好玩的游戏，人们叫它们什么来着？对，字谜，猜字游戏什么的。”
她大声读道：
“我的第一部分，你加上灼热的煤块，
里面融入了我的全部；
我的第二部分永远是第一；
我的第三部分讨厌冬天的寒风。”
“唔，”汤米评论说，“我没太读出这首诗的韵律。”
“但是也没看到你说的特别之处，”塔彭丝说，“大约五十年前每个人都习惯于收集这类东西，并保存好。在冬天的晚上，就围着火炉玩这类游戏。”
“我说的不是诗，是诗下面的文字让我觉得有些特别。”
“圣卢克，第十一章，第九首，”她读完后说，“这是《圣经》经文。”
“是的，难道这不让你觉得奇怪吗？为什么一位虔诚的老夫人要在一首字谜下面写这样一篇经文呢？”
“的确相当奇怪。”塔彭丝沉思着表示赞同。
“既然你是牧师的女儿，你会随身带着《圣经》吗？”
“事实上，我确实随身带着。啊哈，你没有想到吧。等一下。”
塔彭丝跑到自己的手提箱那儿，抽出一本红色的小书回到桌边。她迅速地翻着书页，“这儿，卢克，第十一章，第九首。哦，汤米，看。”
汤米弯下腰，塔彭丝的小手指指着刚刚讨论的这节诗的一部分。
“仔细找，你会发现的。”
“正是这个，”塔彭丝喊了一声，“我们找到了！只要破解这个密码，宝藏就是我们的了——或者说是莫尼卡的。”
“好，让我们来研究一下这个密码，按你说的。‘我的第一部分，你加入灼热的煤块，’这是什么意思？然后——“我的第二部分永远是第一。”这是纯粹的胡言乱语。”
“这很简单，真的，”塔彭丝爽快地说，“这里有窍门。让我看看。”
汤米弃械投降。塔彭丝埋进一把扶手椅中，开始自言自语，眉头紧皱。
“这很简单，真的。”半个小时匆匆而逝，汤米讽刺地嘟嘟囔囔。
“别叽叽歪歪！我们这代人不擅长这个。我有个好主意，明天回到伦敦，请教几位老太太，她们有可能轻轻松松就弄清楚。这只是个小小的文字游戏，仅此而已。”
“好吧，让我们再试一下。”
“能耐住灼热的煤块的东西并不是很多，”塔彭丝沉思着说，“如果是水，那火就会被浇灭，或者是木头，或者是水壶。”
“这一定是按音节拼的一个词，我猜？会不会是木头呢？”
“但是你没办法把什么东西放进木头里。”
“但就这首诗而言，没有什么词比‘水’更恰当了。但是一定有‘水壶’之类能放在火上烤的物品，并且它的名称还是单音节词。”
“平底锅，”塔彭丝沉思道，“平底煎锅。‘锅’怎么样？或者‘罐’，哪个带‘pan’或‘pot’的器皿可以用来煮东西？”
“陶器（pottery），”汤米提议，“你可以放在火上烘烤，十分接近了吧？”
“但音节还是不对，煎饼锅？哦，更不对，真烦人。”
他们的谈话被一个小个子女仆打断了，她告诉他们晚餐几分钟后就会准备好。
“拉姆利夫人，她只想知道您是喜欢油煎土豆呢，还是带皮煮土豆？她每种都有一些。”
“带皮煮，”塔彭丝干脆地说，“我爱吃土豆——”她突然愣住了，目瞪口呆地直视前方。
“怎么了，塔彭丝，看见鬼了吗？”
“汤米，”塔彭丝回过神来大叫一声，“你明白了没有？就是它，这个词，我的意思是，土豆（potatoes）！‘我的第一部分，你加上灼热的煤块’——这是‘（罐）pot’，‘里面融入了我 的 全 部’—— 土 豆 是 整 个 的 煮！‘我 的 第 二 部 分 永 远 是 第 一’，‘那 是 A，“字 母 表（alphapet）”的第一个字母’，‘我的第三部分讨厌冬天的寒风’——冰冷的‘脚趾’（toes），当然是！”
“你是对的，塔彭丝，太聪明了。但是我恐怕咱们浪费了大把的时间却一无所获。土豆根本和失踪的宝藏沾不上边啊。嗯，等一下。你刚才读了什么来着，我们翻看那个箱子时？保存新土豆的秘方。我想这里面有点玄机。”
他迅速翻捡着那堆菜谱。
“在这儿。‘新土豆保鲜法’：把新土豆放进罐子里，埋在花园中。即使在严冬，它们也会像刚挖出来一样新鲜。”
“我们找到了，”塔彭丝尖叫一声，“就是这个。财富就在花园中，装在罐子里埋在地下。”
“但是我问过园丁。他说他从没埋过什么东西。”
“是的，我知道，但那是因为人们从来不会如实回答你的问题，他们总是按他们的理解来回答。他只知道他没有埋过什么不寻常的东西。我们明天去问他把土豆埋在了什么地方。”
第二天是平安夜。靠着四处向人打听，他们终于找到了那个老园丁的小屋子。塔彭丝和他聊了几分钟后，就向自己的话题上靠拢。
“我希望圣诞节宴会上有新土豆，”她说，“它们和火鸡搭配不是很美味吗？您知道这附近有什么人在罐子里埋过土豆吗？我听说这样可以让土豆保鲜。”
“啊，是有人这样干，”这个老人大声说，“老迪恩小姐，红房子的主人，她每个夏天都要埋三罐，却每次都忘了再挖出来！”
“埋在房子旁边的花圃那儿，一般是，对不对？”
“不，靠着墙，冷杉树旁。”
得到了想要的信息，他们赶快离开这位老人，临走前给他五先令作为圣诞节礼物。
“现在去找莫尼卡吧。”汤米说。
“汤米！你没有一点儿浪漫情调，这事交给我吧。我已经有了一个很妙的计划，你能设法去讨，去借或者偷到一把铲子吗？”
不管怎样，一把铲子还是如愿拿到了。那个晚上，深夜时分，两个人影悄悄潜入红房子的院子里。那个园丁说的地方很容易就找到了，汤米开始工作。很快他的铲子发挥了作用，几分钟后，他就挖出了一个大陶罐。这个罐子盖得紧紧的，瓶口用橡皮膏黏合密封。
但是塔彭丝用汤米的小刀，很快就撬开了它。然后，她低声叫了一声，罐子里装满了土豆！她倒出土豆，把罐子倒了个底朝天，但是里面空空如也，再没有其他东西。
“继续挖，汤米。”
一会儿，第二个罐子也挖出来，像刚才一样，塔彭丝开了封口。
“怎么样？”汤米焦急地问。
“又是土豆！”
“见鬼！”汤米说，又开始挖。
“第三次会走运的。”塔彭丝安慰他说。
“我相信这一切都是镜花水月。”汤米沮丧地说，但还是继续挖下去。
最后第三个罐子出土了。
“又是土——”塔彭丝刚一开口，就闭了嘴，“哦，汤米，我们找到了。只有表层是土豆，看！”
她掏出一个老式的天鹅绒包。
“快回家，”汤米嚷嚷道，“这儿冷死了。拿上包走。我得先把坑填平。如果你在我回去之前打开了那个包，你会听到各种恶毒的诅咒！”
“放心，我行事光明正大，等你回来，哎哟！冻死我了。”她匆匆撤退。
到了宾馆，她并没有等多久。汤米差不多和她前后脚回来，经过铲土和之后的一溜小跑，他满头大汗。
“那么，”汤米，“私人咨询代理一案成功结案！打开那个战利品，贝尔斯福德太太。”
包里有一个用油绸包裹的小包和一个沉甸甸的羊皮包。他们先打开羊皮包，里面装满了金币，汤米数了数。
“二百镑，这都是从那家银行换的，我猜。赶快打开那个包裹。”
塔彭丝立刻照做。里面满是紧紧折在一起的钞票。汤米和塔彭丝仔细地清点了一遍，共有整整两万英镑。
“哇！”汤米说，“我们既有钱又诚实，这对莫尼卡来说是件幸事吧？那张薄纸里裹着的是什么？”
塔彭丝打开那个小小的纸包，抽出一串华丽的珍珠项链——精致无比。
“我不太了解这种东西，”汤米慢慢地说，“但是我十分肯定，这些珍珠还得至少值五千镑。看它们的大小。现在我明白为什么这位老夫人保留着那份写有珍珠是最佳投资的剪报了。她一定兑现了她的债券，把它们兑成现金，买了珠宝。”
“哦，汤米，多好啊！亲爱的莫尼卡，现在她就能嫁给那个年轻人，从此以后过着幸福的日子，像我一样。”
“太好了，塔彭丝，那么你和我在一起很幸福喽？”
“说真的，”塔彭丝说，“是的。但是我本不想这么说，只是说漏了嘴。头脑一热，再加上今天是平安夜，这样那样的事儿——”
“如果你真爱我，”汤米说，“你能回答我一个问题吗？”
“我不喜欢被人不停地追问。”塔彭丝说，“但是……好吧……好吧。”
“那么你是怎么知道莫尼卡是牧师的女儿的？”
“哦，那只是骗你的，”塔彭丝愉快地说，“我看了她要求和我们见面的信。有位迪恩先生从前是我父亲的助理牧师，他有个小女儿叫莫尼卡，大约比我小四五岁。所以我就把这两者联系了起来。”
“你这个厚脸皮的东西，”汤米说，“哎呀，十二点的钟声敲响了，圣诞快乐，塔彭丝。”
“圣诞快乐，汤米。这对莫尼卡来说也是个快乐的圣诞节——当然也得感谢咱俩。我很高兴。可怜的姑娘，她一直过得很悲惨。你知道吗，汤米，每当我想起这些时，我就觉得心里不舒服，嗓子里堵得慌。”
“亲爱的塔彭丝。”汤米说。
“亲爱的汤米，”塔彭丝说，“我们太多愁善感了。”
“圣诞节一年一度，”汤米简洁地说，“我们的爷爷、奶奶们都这样说，我希望圣诞节仍包含着许多真理。”
Sixteen THE AMBASSADOR’S BOOTS（1）
Sixteen THE AMBASSADOR’S BOOTS

“My dear fellow, my dear fellow,” said Tuppence, and waved a heavilybuttered muffin.
Tommy looked at her for a minute or two, then a broad grin spread overhis face and he murmured.
“We do have to be so very careful.”
“That’s right,” said Tuppence, delighted. “You guessed. I am the famousDr. Fortune and you are Superintendent Bell.”
“Why are you being Reginald Fortune?”
“Well, really because I feel like a lot of hot butter.”
“That is the pleasant side of it,” said Tommy. “But there is another. Youwill have to examine horribly smashed faces and very extra dead bodies agood deal.”
In answer Tuppence threw across a letter. Tommy’s eyebrows rose inastonishment.
“Randolph Wilmott, the American Ambassador. I wonder what hewants.”
“We shall know tomorrow at eleven o’clock.”
Punctually to the time named, Mr. Randolph Wilmott, United States Am-bassador to the Court of St. James, was ushered into Mr. Blunt’s office. Hecleared his throat and commenced speaking in a deliberate and character-istic manner.
“I have come to you, Mr. Blunt—By the way, it is Mr. Blunt himself towhom I am speaking, is it not?”
“Certainly,” said Tommy. “I am Theodore Blunt, the head of the firm.”
“I always prefer to deal with heads of departments,” said Mr. Wilmott.
“It is more satisfactory in every way. As I was about to say, Mr. Blunt, thisbusiness gets my goat. There’s nothing in it to trouble Scotland Yard about—I’m not a penny the worse in any way, and it’s probably all due to asimple mistake. But all the same, I don’t see just how that mistake arose.
There’s nothing criminal in it, I dare say, but I’d like just to get the thingstraightened out. It makes me mad not to see the why and wherefore of athing.”
“Absolutely,” said Tommy.
Mr. Wilmott went on. He was slow and given to much detail. At lastTommy managed to get a word in.
“Quite so,” he said, “the position is this. You arrived by the liner No-madic a week ago. In some way your kitbag and the kitbag of another gen-tleman, Mr. Ralph Westerham, whose initials are the same as yours, gotmixed up. You took Mr. Westerham’s kitbag, and he took yours. Mr. West-erham discovered the mistake immediately, sent round your kitbag to theEmbassy, and took away his own. Am I right so far?”
“That is precisely what occurred. The two bags must have been practic-ally identical, and with the initials R.W. being the same in both cases, it isnot difficult to understand that an error might have been made. I myselfwas not aware of what had happened until my valet informed me of themistake, and that Mr. Westerham—he is a Senator, and a man for whom Ihave a great admiration—had sent round for his bag and returned mine.”
“Then I don’t see—”
“But you will see. That’s only the beginning of the story. Yesterday, as itchanced, I ran up against Senator Westerham, and I happened to mentionthe matter to him jestingly. To my great surprise, he did not seem to knowwhat I was talking about, and when I explained, he denied the story abso-lutely. He had not taken my bag off the ship in mistake for his own—infact, he had not travelled with such an article amongst his luggage.”
“What an extraordinary thing!”
“Mr. Blunt, it is an extraordinary thing. There seems no rhyme or reasonin it. Why, if any one wanted to steal my kitbag, he could do so easilyenough without resorting to all this roundabout business. And anyway, itwas not stolen, but returned to me. On the other hand, if it were taken bymistake, why use Senator Westerham’s name? It’s a crazy business—butjust for curiosity I mean to get to the bottom of it. I hope the case is not tootrivial for you to undertake?”
“Not at all. It is a very intriguing little problem, capable as you say, ofmany simple explanations, but nevertheless baffling on the face of it. Thefirst thing, of course, is the reason of the substitution, if substitution it was.
You say nothing was missing from your bag when it came back into yourpossession?”
“My man says not. He would know.”
“What was in it, if I may ask?”
“Mostly boots.”
“Boots,” said Tommy, discouraged.
“Yes,” said Mr. Wilmott. “Boots. Odd, isn’t it?”
“You’ll forgive my asking you,” said Tommy, “but you didn’t carry anysecret papers, or anything of that sort sewn in the lining of a boot orscrewed into a false heel?”
The Ambassador seemed amused by the question.
“Secret diplomacy hasn’t got to that pitch, I hope.”
“Only in fiction,” said Tommy with an answering smile, and a slightlyapologetic manner. “But you see, we’ve got to account for the thing some-how. Who came for the bag—the other bag, I mean?”
“Supposed to be one of Westerham’s servants. Quite a quiet, ordinaryman, so I understand. My valet saw nothing wrong with him.”
“Had it been unpacked, do you know?”
“That I can’t say. I presume not. But perhaps you’d like to ask the valet afew questions? He can tell you more than I can about the business.”
“I think that would be the best plan, Mr. Wilmott.”
The Ambassador scribbled a few words on a card and handed it toTommy.
“I opine that you would prefer to go round to the Embassy and makeyour inquiries there? If not, I will have the man, his name is Richards, bythe way—sent round here.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Wilmott. I should prefer to go to the Embassy.”
The Ambassador rose, glancing at his watch.
“Dear me, I shall be late for an appointment. Well, goodbye, Mr. Blunt. Ileave the matter in your hands.”
He hurried away. Tommy looked at Tuppence, who had been scribblingdemurely on her pad in the character of the efficient Miss Robinson.
“What about it, old thing?” he asked. “Do you see, as the old bird put it,any rhyme or reason in the proceedings?”
“None whatever,” replied Tuppence cheerily.
“Well, that’s a start, anyway! It shows that there is really something verydeep at the back of it.”
“You think so?”
“It’s a generally accepted hypothesis. Remember Sherlock Holmes andthe depth the butter had sunk into the parsley—I mean the other wayround. I’ve always had a devouring wish to know all about that case. Per-haps Watson will disinter it from his notebook one of these days. Then Ishall die happy. But we must get busy.”
“Quite so,” said Tuppence. “Not a quick man, the esteemed Wilmott, butsure.”
“She knows men,” said Tommy. “Or do I say he knows men. It is so con-fusing when you assume the character of a male detective.”
“Oh, my dear fellow, my dear fellow!”
“A little more action, Tuppence, and a little less repetition.”
“A classic phrase cannot be repeated too often,” said Tuppence with dig-nity.
“Have a muffin,” said Tommy kindly.
“Not at eleven o’clock in the morning, thank you. Silly case, this. Boots—you know. Why boots?”
“Well,” said Tommy. “Why not?”
“It doesn’t fit. Boots.” She shook her head. “All wrong. Who wants otherpeople’s boots? The whole thing’s mad.”
“Possibly they got hold of the wrong bag,” suggested Tommy.
“That’s possible. But if they were after papers, a despatch case would bemore likely. Papers are the only things one thinks of in connection withambassadors.”
“Boots suggest footprints,” said Tommy thoughtfully. “Do you think theywanted to lay a trail of Wilmott’s footsteps somewhere?”
Tuppence considered the suggestion, abandoning her role, then shookher head.
“It seems wildly impossible,” she said. “No, I believe we shall have toresign ourselves to the fact that the boots have nothing to do with it.”
“Well,” said Tommy with a sigh, “the next step is to interview friendRichards. He may be able to throw some light on the mystery.”
On production of the Ambassador’s card, Tommy was admitted to theEmbassy, and presently a pale young man, with a respectful manner and asubdued voice, presented himself to undergo examination.
“I am Richards, sir. Mr. Wilmott’s valet. I understood you wished to seeme?”
“Yes, Richards. Mr. Wilmott called on me this morning, and suggestedthat I should come round and ask you a few questions. It is this matter ofthe kitbag.”
“Mr. Wilmott was rather upset over the affair, I know, sir. I can hardlysee why, since no harm was done. I certainly understood from the manwho called for the other bag that it belonged to Senator Westerham, but ofcourse, I may have been mistaken.”
“What kind of man was he?”
“Middle-aged. Grey hair. Very good class, I should say—most respect-able. I understood he was Senator Westerham’s valet. He left Mr.
Wilmott’s bag and took away the other.”
“Had it been unpacked at all?”
“Which one, sir?”
“Well, I meant the one you brought from the boat. But I should like toknow about the other as well — Mr. Wilmott’s own. Had that been un-packed, do you fancy?”
“I should say not, sir. It was just as I strapped it up on the boat. I shouldsay the gentleman—whoever he was—just opened it—realised it wasn’this, and shut it up again.”
“Nothing missing? No small article?”
“I don’t think so, sir. In fact, I’m quite sure.”
“And now the other one. Had you started to unpack that?”
“As a matter of fact, sir, I was just opening it at the very moment SenatorWesterham’s man arrived. I’d just undone the straps.”
“Did you open it at all?”
“We just unfastened it together, sir, to be sure no mistake had beenmade this time. The man said it was all right, and he strapped it up againand took it away.”
“What was inside? Boots also?”
“No, sir, mostly toilet things, I fancy. I know I saw a tin of bath salts.”
Tommy abandoned that line of research.
“You never saw anyone tampering with anything in your master’s cabinon board ship, I suppose?”
“Oh, no, sir.”
“Never anything suspicious of any kind?”
“And what do I mean by that, I wonder,” he thought to himself with atrace of amusement. “Anything suspicious—just words!”
But the man in front of him hesitated.
“Now that I remember it—”
“Yes,” said Tommy eagerly. “What?”
“I don’t think it could have anything to do with it. But there was a younglady.”
“Yes? A young lady, you say, what was she doing?”
“She was taken faint, sir. A very pleasant young lady. Miss EileenO’Hara, her name was. A dainty-looking lady, not tall, with black hair. Justa little foreign-looking.”
“Yes?” said Tommy, with even greater eagerness.
“As I was saying, she was taken queer. Just outside Mr. Wilmott’s cabin.
She asked me to fetch the doctor. I helped her to the sofa, and then wentoff for the doctor. I was some time finding him, and when I found him andbrought him back, the young lady was nearly all right again.”
“Oh!” said Tommy.
“You don’t think, sir—”
“It’s difficult to know what to think,” said Tommy noncommittally. “Wasthis Miss O’Hara travelling alone?”
“Yes, I think so, sir.”
“You haven’t seen her since you landed?”
“No, sir.”
“Well,” said Tommy, after a minute or two spent in reflection. “I thinkthat’s all. Thank you, Richards.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Back at the office of the Detective Agency, Tommy retailed his conversa-tion with Richards to Tuppence, who listened attentively.
“What do you think of it, Tuppence?”
“Oh, my dear fellow, we doctors are always sceptical of a sudden faint-ness! So very convenient. And Eileen as well as O’Hara. Almost too impos-sibly Irish, don’t you think?”
“It’s something to go upon at last. Do you know what I am going to do,Tuppence? Advertise for the lady.”
“What?”
“Yes, any information respecting Miss Eileen O’Hara known to havetravelled such and such a ship and such and such a date. Either she’ll an-swer it herself if she’s genuine, or someone may come forward to give usinformation about her. So far, it’s the only hope of a clue.”
“You’ll also put her on her guard, remember.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “one’s got to risk something.”
“I still can’t see any sense in the thing,” said Tuppence, frowning. “If agang of crooks get hold of the Ambassador’s bag for an hour or two, andthen send it back, what possible good can it do them. Unless there are pa-pers in it they want to copy, and Mr. Wilmott swears there was nothing ofthe kind.”
Tommy stared at her thoughtfully.
“You put these things rather well, Tuppence,” he said at last. “You’vegiven me an idea.”
Sixteen THE AMBASSADOR’S BOOTS（2）
II
It was two days later. Tuppence was out to lunch. Tommy, alone in theaustere office of Mr. Theodore Blunt, was improving his mind by readingthe latest sensational thriller.
The door of the office opened and Albert appeared.
“A young lady to see you, sir. Miss Cicely March. She says she has calledin answer to an advertisement.”
“Show her in at once,” cried Tommy, thrusting his novel into a conveni-ent drawer.
In another minute, Albert had ushered in the young lady. Tommy hadjust time to see that she was fair-haired and extremely pretty, when theamazing occurrence happened.
The door through which Albert had just passed out was rudely burstopen. In the doorway stood a picturesque figure—a big dark man, Spanishin appearance, with a flaming red tie. His features were distorted withrage, and in his hand was a gleaming pistol.
“So this is the office of Mr. Busybody Blunt,” he said in perfect English.
His voice was low and venomous. “Hands up at once—or I shoot.”
It sounded no idle threat. Tommy’s hands went up obediently. The girl,crouched against the wall, gave a gasp of terror.
“This young lady will come with me,” said the man. “Yes, you will, mydear. You have never seen me before, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t havemy plans ruined by a silly little chit like you. I seem to remember that youwere one of the passengers on the Nomadic. You must have been peeringinto things that didn’t concern you—but I’ve no intention of letting youblab any secrets to Mr. Blunt here. A very clever gentleman, Mr. Blunt,with his fancy advertisements. But as it happens, I keep an eye on the ad-vertisement columns. That’s how I got wise to his little game.”
“You interest me exceedingly,” said Tommy. “Won’t you go on?”
“Cheek won’t help you, Mr. Blunt. From now on, you’re a marked man.
Give up this investigation, and we’ll leave you alone. Otherwise—God helpyou! Death comes swiftly to those who thwart our plans.”
Tommy did not reply. He was staring over the intruder’s shoulder asthough he saw a ghost.
As a matter of fact he was seeing something that caused him far moreapprehension than any ghost could have done. Up to now, he had notgiven a thought to Albert as a factor in the game. He had taken for grantedthat Albert had already been dealt with by the mysterious stranger. If hehad thought of him at all, it was as one lying stunned on the carpet in theouter office.
He now saw that Albert had miraculously escaped the stranger’s atten-tion. But instead of rushing out to fetch a policeman in good sound Britishfashion, Albert had elected to play a lone hand. The door behind thestranger had opened noiselessly, and Albert stood in the aperture envel-oped in a coil of rope.
An agonised yelp of protest burst from Tommy, but too late. Fired withenthusiasm, Albert flung a loop of rope over the intruder’s head, andjerked him backwards off his feet.
The inevitable happened. The pistol went off with a roar and Tommyfelt the bullet scorch his ear in passing, ere it buried itself in the plasterbehind him.
“I’ve got him, sir,” cried Albert, flushed with triumph. “I’ve lassoed him.
I’ve been practising with a lasso in my spare time, sir. Can you give me ahand? He’s very violent.”
Tommy hastened to his faithful henchman’s assistance, mentally de-termining that Albert should have no further spare time.
“You damned idiot,” he said. “Why didn’t you go for a policeman? Owingto this fool’s play of yours, he as near as anything plugged me through thehead. Whew! I’ve never had such a near escape.”
“Lassoed him in the nick of time, I did,” said Albert, his ardour quite un-damped. “It’s wonderful what those chaps can do on the prairies, sir.”
“Quite so,” said Tommy, “but we’re not on the prairies. We happen to bein a highly civilised city. And now, my dear sir,” he added to his prostratefoe. “What are we going to do with you?”
A stream of oaths in a foreign language was his only reply.
“Hush,” said Tommy. “I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying,but I’ve got a shrewd idea it’s not the kind of language to use before a lady.
You’ll excuse him, won’t you, Miss—do you know, in the excitement of thislittle upset, I’ve quite forgotten your name?”
“March,” said the girl. She was still white and shaken. But she came for-ward now and stood by Tommy looking down on the recumbent figure ofthe discomfited stranger. “What are you going to do with him?”
“I could fetch a bobby now,” said Albert helpfully.
But Tommy, looking up, caught a very faint negative movement of thegirl’s head, and took his cue accordingly.
“We’ll let him off this time,” he remarked. “Nevertheless I shall give my-self the pleasure of kicking him downstairs—if it’s only to teach him man-ners to a lady.”
He removed the rope, hauled the victim to his feet, and propelled himbriskly through the outer office.
A series of shrill yelps was heard and then a thud. Tommy came back,flushed but smiling.
The girl was staring at him with round eyes.
“Did you—hurt him?”
“I hope so,” said Tommy. “But these dagoes make a practice of cryingout before they’re hurt—so I can’t be quite sure about it. Shall we comeback into my office, Miss March, and resume our interrupted conversa-tion? I don’t think we shall be interrupted again.”
“I’ll have my lasso ready, sir, in case,” said the helpful Albert.
“Put it away,” ordered Tommy sternly.
He followed the girl into the inner office and sat down at his desk, whilstshe took a chair facing him.
“I don’t quite know where to begin,” said the girl. “As you heard thatman say, I was a passenger on the Nomadic. The lady you advertisedabout, Miss O’Hara, was also on board.”
“Exactly,” said Tommy. “That we know already but I suspect you mustknow something about her doings on board that boat, or else that pictur-esque gentleman would not have been in such a hurry to intervene.”
“I will tell you everything. The American Ambassador was on board.
One day, as I was passing his cabin, I saw this woman inside, and she wasdoing something so extraordinary that I stopped to watch. She had aman’s boot in her hand—”
“A boot?” cried Tommy excitedly. “I’m sorry, Miss March, go on.”
“With a little pair of scissors, she was slitting up the lining. Then sheseemed to push something inside. Just at that minute the doctor and an-other man came down the passage, and immediately she dropped back onthe couch and groaned. I waited, and I gathered from what was being saidthat she had pretended to feel faint. I say pretended—because when I firstcaught sight of her, she was obviously feeling nothing of the kind.”
Tommy nodded.
“Well?”
“I rather hate to tell you the next part. I was—curious. And also, I’d beenreading silly books, and I wondered if she’d put a bomb or a poisonedneedle or something like that in Mr. Wilmott’s boot. I know it’s absurd—but I did think so. Anyway, next time I passed the empty cabin, I slipped inand examined the boot. I drew out from the lining a slip of paper. Just as Ihad it in my hand, I heard the steward coming, and I hurried out so as notto be caught. The folded paper was still in my hand. When I got into myown cabin I examined it. Mr. Blunt, it was nothing but some verses fromthe Bible.”
“Verses from the Bible?” said Tommy, very much intrigued.
“At least I thought so at the time. I couldn’t understand it, but I thoughtperhaps it was the work of a religious maniac. Anyway, I didn’t feel it wasworthwhile replacing it. I kept it without thinking much about it until yes-terday when I used it to make into a boat for my little nephew to sail in hisbath. As the paper got wet, I saw a queer kind of design coming out allover it. I hastily took it out of the bath, and smoothed it out flat again. Thewater had brought out the hidden message. It was a kind of tracing—andlooked like the mouth of a harbour. Immediately after that I read your ad-vertisement.”
Tommy sprang from his chair.
“But this is most important. I see it all now. That tracing is probably theplan of some important harbour defences. It had been stolen by this wo-man. She feared someone was on her track, and not daring to conceal itamongst her own belongings, she contrived this hiding place. Later, sheobtained possession of the bag in which the boot was packed—only to dis-cover that the paper had vanished. Tell me, Miss March, you have broughtthis paper with you?”
The girl shook her head.
“It’s at my place of business. I run a beauty parlour in Bond Street. I amreally an agent for the ‘Cyclamen’ preparations in New York. That is why Ihad been over there. I thought the paper might be important, so I locked itup in the safe before coming out. Ought not Scotland Yard to know aboutit?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Then shall we go there now, get it out, and take it straight to ScotlandYard?”
“I am very busy this afternoon,” said Tommy, adopting his professionalmanner and consulting his watch. “The Bishop of London wants me totake up a case for him. A very curious problem, concerning some vest-ments and two curates.”
“Then in that case,” said Miss March, rising, “I will go alone.”
Tommy raised a hand in protest.
“As I was about to say,” he said, “the Bishop must wait. I will leave a fewwords with Albert. I am convinced, Miss March, that until that paper hasbeen safely deposited with Scotland Yard you are in active danger.”
“Do you think so?” said the girl doubtfully.
“I don’t think so, I’m sure. Excuse me.” He scribbled some words on thepad in front of him, then tore off the leaf and folded it.
Taking his hat and stick, he intimated to the girl that he was ready to ac-company her. In the outer office he handed the folded paper to Albertwith an air of importance.
“I am called out on an urgent case. Explain that to his lordship if hecomes. Here are my notes on the case for Miss Robinson.”
“Very good, sir,” said Albert, playing up. “And what about the Duchess’spearls?”
Tommy waved his hand irritably.
“That must wait also.”
He and Miss March hurried out. Halfway down the stairs they en-countered Tuppence coming up. Tommy passed her with a brusque: “Lateagain, Miss Robinson. I am called out on an important case.”
Tuppence stood still on the stairs and stared after them. Then, withraised eyebrows, she went on up to the office.
As they reached the street, a taxi came sailing up to them. Tommy, onthe point of hailing it, changed his mind.
“Are you a good walker, Miss March?” he asked seriously.
“Yes, why? Hadn’t we better take that taxi? It will be quicker.”
“Perhaps you did not notice. That taxi driver has just refused a fare alittle lower down the street. He was waiting for us. Your enemies are onthe lookout. If you feel equal to it, it would be better for us to walk to BondStreet. In the crowded streets they will not be able to attempt muchagainst us.”
“Very well,” said the girl, rather doubtfully.
They walked westwards. The streets, as Tommy had said, were crowded,and progress was slow. Tommy kept a sharp lookout. Occasionally hedrew the girl to one side with a quick gesture, though she herself had seennothing suspicious.
Suddenly glancing at her, he was seized with compunction.
“I say, you look awfully done up. The shock of that man. Come into thisplace and have a good cup of strong coffee. I suppose you wouldn’t hear ofa nip of brandy.”
The girl shook her head, with a faint smile.
“Coffee be it then,” said Tommy. “I think we can safely risk its beingpoisoned.”
They lingered some time over their coffee, and finally set off at a briskerpace.
“We’ve thrown them off, I think,” said Tommy, looking over hisshoulder.
Cyclamen Ltd was a small establishment in Bond Street, with pale pinktaffeta curtains, and one or two jars of face cream and a cake of soap dec-orating the window.
Cicely March entered, and Tommy followed. The place inside was tiny.
On the left was a glass counter with toilet preparations. Behind thiscounter was a middle-aged woman with grey hair and an exquisite com-plexion, who acknowledged Cicely March’s entrance with a faint inclina-tion of the head before continuing to talk to the customer she was serving.
This customer was a small dark woman. Her back was to them and theycould not see her face. She was speaking in slow difficult English. On theright was a sofa and a couple of chairs with some magazines on a table.
Here sat two men—apparently bored husbands waiting for their wives.
Cicely March passed straight on through a door at the end which sheheld ajar for Tommy to follow her. As he did so, the woman customer ex-claimed, “Ah, but I think that is an amico of mine,” and rushed after them,inserting her foot in the door just in time to prevent its closing. At thesame time the two men rose to their feet. One followed her through thedoor, the other advanced to the shop attendant and clapped his hand overher mouth to drown the scream rising to her lips.
In the meantime, things were happening rather quickly beyond theswing door. As Tommy passed through a cloth was flung over his head,and a sickly odour assailed his nostrils. Almost as soon however, it wasjerked off again, and a woman’s scream rang out.
Tommy blinked a little and coughed as he took in the scene in front ofhim. On his right was the mysterious stranger of a few hours ago, andbusily fitting handcuffs upon him was one of the bored men from the shopparlour. Just in front of him was Cicely March wrestling vainly to free her-self, whilst the woman customer from the shop held her firmly pinioned.
As the latter turned her head, and the veil she wore unfastened itself andfell off, the well-known features of Tuppence were revealed.
“Well done, Tuppence,” said Tommy, moving forward. “Let me give youa hand. I shouldn’t struggle if I were you, Miss O’Hara—or do you prefer tobe called Miss March?”
“This is Inspector Grace, Tommy,” said Tuppence. “As soon as I read thenote you left I rang up Scotland Yard, and Inspector Grace and anotherman met me outside here.”
“Very glad to get hold of this gentleman,” said the Inspector, indicatinghis prisoner. “He’s wanted badly. But we’ve never had cause to suspectthis place—thought it was a genuine beauty shop.”
“You see,” explained Tommy gently, “we do have to be so very careful!
Why should anyone want the Ambassador’s bag for an hour or so? I putthe question the other way round. Supposing it was the other bag that wasthe important one. Someone wanted that bag to be in the Ambassador’spossession for an hour or so. Much more illuminating! Diplomatic luggageis not subjected to the indignities of a Customs examination. Clearly smug-gling. But smuggling of what? Nothing too bulky. At once I thought ofdrugs. Then that picturesque comedy was enacted in my office. They’dseen my advertisement and wanted to put me off the scent—or failingthat, out of the way altogether. But I happened to notice an expression ofblank dismay in the charming lady’s eyes when Albert did his lasso act.
That didn’t fit in very well with her supposed part. The stranger’s attackwas meant to assure my confidence in her. I played the part of the credu-lous sleuth with all my might—swallowed her rather impossible story andpermitted her to lure me here, carefully leaving behind full instructionsfor dealing with the situation. Under various pretexts I delayed our ar-rival, so as to give you all plenty of time.”
Cicely March was looking at him with a stony expression.
“You are mad. What do you expect to find here?”
“Remembering that Richards saw a tin of bath salts, what do you sayabout beginning with the bath salts, eh, Inspector?”
“A very sound idea, sir.”
He picked up one of the dainty pink tins, and emptied it on the table.
The girl laughed.
“Genuine crystals, eh?” said Tommy. “Nothing more deadly than car-bonate of soda?”
“Try the safe,” suggested Tuppence.
There was a small wall safe in the corner. The key was in the lock.
Tommy swung it open and gave a shout of satisfaction. The back of thesafe opened out into a big recess in the wall, and that recess was stackedwith the same elegant tins of bath salts. Rows and rows of them. He tookone out and prised up the lid. The top showed the same pink crystals, butunderneath was a fine white powder.
The Inspector uttered an ejaculation.
“You’ve got it, sir. Ten to one, that tin’s full of pure cocaine. We knewthere was a distributing area somewhere round here, handy to the WestEnd, but we haven’t been able to get a clue to it. This is a fine coup ofyours, sir.”
“Rather a triumph for Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives,” said Tommy to Tup-pence, as they emerged into the street together. “It’s a great thing to be amarried man. Your persistent schooling has at last taught me to recogniseperoxide when I see it. Golden hair has got to be the genuine article totake me in. We will concoct a businesslike letter to the Ambassador, in-forming him that the matter has been dealt with satisfactorily. And now,my dear fellow, what about tea, and lots of hot buttered muffins?”
第十六章 大使的靴子（2）
2两天后。塔彭丝出去吃饭。汤米独自一人在西奥多•布兰特先生那间简朴的办公室里，阅读最近流行的惊险小说，扩展一下眼界。
办公室的门开了，阿尔伯特出现在门口。
“一位年轻女士要见您，先生。西塞莉•马特小姐。她说她是为那个寻人启事来的。”
“马上带她进来。”汤米喊道，把手中的小说扔进旁边的抽屉。
不一会儿，阿尔伯特带进来一位年轻的女士。汤米刚来得及打量她一眼，只看到她一头金发，非常漂亮，令人吃惊的一幕就发生了。
阿尔伯特刚进来的那扇门突然被粗暴地撞开，门口赫然站着一个彪形黑大汉，他看起来像西班牙人，戴一条火红的领带，凶神恶煞，手中拿着一把闪亮的手枪。
“那么这儿就是那位爱管闲事的布兰特先生的办公室喽，”他操着一口流利的英语，声音低沉充满恶意，“举起手来，马上——否则我就开枪了。”
这可不是闹着玩的。汤米立刻顺从地举起手来。而那个女孩，蹲在墙角，恐惧地大口喘着粗气。
“这位年轻女士必须跟我走一趟，”这个男人说，“是的，你要跟我走，亲爱的。你以前从没有见过我，但是没关系。我不能让自己的计划被你这样一个黄毛丫头毁了。我好像记得你是‘流浪号’上的一位乘客。你一定刺探到了什么与你无关的事情——而我可不想让你泄露给这儿的布兰特先生。他可是一位十分聪明的绅士，布兰特，居然整出那么一份充满想象力的寻人启事。不过恰好，我一直关注寻人启事专栏，因此才得知他的这个小把戏。”
“你的话真是让我太感兴趣了，”汤米说，“你不继续说下去吗？”
“油嘴滑舌对您可没好处，布兰特先生。从现在开始，你可就被盯上了。停止调查，我们就相安无事。否则——上帝保佑！挡我者死！”
汤米一声不吭，而是盯着入侵者的身后，仿佛见了鬼。
事实上，他所看见的那个身影带来的恐惧远比魔鬼带来的要大得多。直到现在，他从没把阿尔伯特算在这个游戏之中，他以为阿尔伯特早被这个神秘的陌生人处理了。就算他曾想过，也只能想到阿尔伯特震惊地昏倒在外面办公室的地毯上。
现在他看见阿尔伯特神奇地避开了这个陌生人的注意，却并没有冲出去以动听的英国口音呼叫警察，反而选择做一次孤胆英雄。这位陌生人背后的门无声地打开了，阿尔伯特站在门口，手中举着一根绳子绾成的套圈。
汤米突然爆发出一声叫喊试图阻止他，但是为时已晚，阿尔伯特已经迅猛地把绳套套在了入侵者的脖子上，紧接着往后猛地一拉，那人就双脚离地向后倒去。
不可避免的事情发生了，那人的手枪怒吼一声，汤米瞬间觉得耳朵一阵灼热，疾驰而过的子弹射进了他身后墙壁的石灰中。
“我抓住他了，先生，”阿尔伯特大喊，得意地涨红了脸，“我套住他了，我在空闲时间一直练套索，先生，您能帮我一把吗？这家伙反抗得太厉害了。”
汤米迅速冲过去协助他忠诚的手下，心里却暗下决定：不能让阿尔伯特再有空闲时间了。
“你个傻瓜，”他说，“你为什么不去叫警察？拜你这个愚蠢的把戏所赐，他差点把什么东西射进我的脑袋。哇，我还从没有这样与死神擦肩而过。”
“紧急关头套住他的是我，”阿尔伯特说，他的热情丝毫不受影响，“只有大草原上的小伙子才能做到。现在，我亲爱的先生，”他对他的手下败将说，“我们该怎么处置你呢？”
对方只是用某国语言发出一串尖利的诅咒。
“嘘，”汤米说，“我一个字也听不懂，但我还是觉得，这些话不适合在一位女士面前说。原谅他，好吧，小姐——你知道吗，经过这一小阵亢奋，我忘了您叫什么名字？”
“马赫。”这个女孩说，她依然脸色苍白，浑身发抖。但是她现在走上前来，站在汤米身边，低头打量着被打倒在地的陌生人。“你们打算怎么处置他？”
“我现在去叫警察吧。”阿尔伯特提议。
但是汤米抬起头，看到那个女孩轻轻摇了摇头，他不失时机地接受了这个暗示。
汤米松开套索，把这位败将拉起来，轻松地推着他穿过外面办公室。接着外面传来一阵尖叫，然后是砰的一声闷响。汤米走了回来，满脸通红，但喜形于色。
这个女孩瞪圆眼睛盯着他。
“你——打他了？”
“我希望如此，”汤米说，“但是这些外国佬还没受伤，就大喊大叫——所以我不太确定。我们回办公室吧，马赫小姐，继续我们中断的谈话？我想我们不会再被打断了。”
“我已经准备好我的套索，先生，以防万一。”阿尔伯特极为热心。
“扔了它。”汤米严厉地命令道。
他跟在女孩后面进了里面的办公室，坐在办公桌前，而她拉了把椅子坐在他对面。
“我不知道从哪儿说起，”这个女孩说，“正如您刚才听那个男人所说，我是‘流浪号’上的一位乘客。你登报寻找的那位女士，欧哈拉小姐，也在船上。”
“正是，”汤米说，“这些情况我们已经知道了，但是我想您一定知道她在船上的一些行为，否则那位特殊的先生也不会急于打断我们。”
“我会告诉您一切。美国大使也在船上。一天，我经过他的客舱，看到有个女人在里面，她的行为十分古怪，所以我就停下脚步看了一眼。她手里拿着一只男人的靴子——”
“一只靴子？”汤米兴奋地叫了一声，“对不起，马赫小姐，请您继续。”
“她正用一把小剪刀剪开衬里。然后，似乎在里面塞了什么东西。就在这时，医生和另一个人沿着走廊走过来，她立刻倒在沙发上呻吟起来。我等了一会儿，推测她应该是假装昏倒。我说的是假装，因为我之前看到她时，她明显什么事也没有。”
汤米点点头。
“然后呢？”
“我很不愿意告诉您接下来的事情，我——出于好奇，我也读过一些离奇的小说，我怀疑她是不是放了一颗炸弹，或一根毒针在威尔莫特先生的靴子里。我知道这个想法很荒谬——但我当时就是这么想的。因此，我再次经过这间客舱时，发现里面没人，于是就悄悄溜进去，仔细检查了那只靴子，从衬里内抽出一张纸条。我刚拿到手，就听到乘务员的脚步声。我赶紧出去，以免被抓个正着。那张折叠的纸条还在我手中。等回到自己的客舱，我急忙打开纸条。奇怪的是，布兰特先生，上面什么也没有，除了《圣经》中的几行诗。”
“《圣经》中的几行诗？”汤米很有兴趣地追问。
“至少当时我是这样认为的。我读不明白，因此我想这几句话可能来自于狂热的宗教作品中。总之，我觉得没有必要再放回去。于是，我就保留了这张纸条，也没有再多考虑这件事。直到昨天，我用它为我的小侄子叠了一只小船，放在浴盆里航行。这时纸湿了，我看到上面显示出一个奇怪的图案。我迅速从浴盆中把它捞出来，擦干展平。是水使隐藏的秘密显现出来。这是一张描摹图——看起来是个港口。紧接着，我就看到了您的寻人启事。”
汤米从椅子里“嚯”地站起来。
“但是这事关重大。我现在全明白了。这张图可能是重要军港的防御计划。这个女人偷了它，担心被人追踪，不敢把它藏在自己的行李里面，于是巧妙地找到这么一个藏匿地。
后来，她拿到装靴子的那个包时，却发现里面的纸条不见了。告诉我，马赫小姐，你现在带着这张纸条吗？”
这个女孩摇摇头。
“我把它放在了我的店里。我在邦德大街开了一家美容院。我实际上是纽约‘仙客来’化妆品的品牌代理。这也是我会去美国的原因。我想这张纸条可能十分重要，所以出门前把它锁在了保险柜中。先生，是不是应该把这件事报告给苏格兰场？”
“是的，当然。”
“那我们是不是现在就去拿纸条，然后直接去警察厅？”
“我今天下午非常忙，”汤米说，摆出十分专业的架势，看了下手表，“伦敦大主教想让我接一个案子。十分奇怪的案子，牵涉几件祭袍和两位助理牧师。”
“既然这样，”马赫小姐说，站起身来，“我只好自己去了。”
汤米举手拦住她。
“但是我接下来要说，”他说，“大主教可以等。我会给他留言，让阿尔伯特转告。我确信，马赫小姐，在那张纸条安全送达苏格兰场前，你的处境仍然十分危险。”
“您这样认为？”这个女孩怀疑地问。
“我不是这样认为，是我确信。稍等。”他在面前的便签本上飞快地画了几个字，然后撕下那页纸折好。
拿起帽子和手杖后，他告诉那女孩自己准备陪她前往。来到外面的办公室之后，他一脸郑重地把折叠的纸条递给阿尔伯特。
“我得出去办一个紧急的案子。如果主教大人来，向他解释一下。把这张纸条给鲁宾孙小姐，上面是关于这个案子的简要情况。”
“好的，先生，”阿尔伯特说，添油加醋地说，“那么公爵的珍珠怎么办？”
汤米不耐烦地挥挥手。
“那也得等着。”
他和马赫小姐急匆匆出了办公室，楼梯下到一半，他们正遇到上楼的塔彭丝。汤米不高兴地叫住她：“你又迟到了，鲁宾孙小姐，我要出去办一个重要的案子。”
塔彭丝站在楼梯上，盯着他们；然后，扬起眉头，继续上楼去了办公室。
他们来到街上，一辆出租车逆着车流开到他们身边。汤米刚想抬手招呼，又突然改变了主意。
“您喜欢步行吗，马赫小姐？”他严肃地问。
“是的，但是为什么呢？我们乘坐那辆出租车不更好吗？那会更快一些。”
“可能您没注意到。那辆车的司机刚才在街对面稍远一点的地方拒绝了一位乘客，他应该正专门等着我们。您的敌人一直在监视我们。如果您不反对，我们最好步行到邦德大街。在人来人往的大街上，他们无法进一步采取什么行动。”
“很好。”这个女孩说，但神情十分怀疑。
他们向西走去。大街上，正如汤米所说，人来人往，他们行进的速度很慢。汤米警惕地四处张望，偶尔他会迅速把这个女孩拉到一边，尽管她自己并没有看到什么可疑的人。
他瞥了她一眼，有些内疚地说：
“您看起来筋疲力尽，肯定是受到了那个男人的惊吓。来，咱们到街边那家咖啡馆，喝一杯浓咖啡。我想您不会愿意喝白兰地吧。”
女孩摇摇头，脸上带着一丝微笑。
“那么就咖啡吧，”汤米说，“我想我们不会被下毒的。”
他们慢慢地喝着咖啡，消磨了一些时间，最后又轻松上路了。
“我想我们已经甩掉了他们。”汤米说，扭头看了看。
“仙客来化妆品公司”实际只是邦德大街上一个小小的店面，橱窗里悬挂着浅粉色的窗帘，里面陈列着一两罐面霜和一块香皂。
西塞莉•马赫进了店门，汤米紧随其后。里面空间狭小，左边是一个玻璃柜，里面摆放着化妆品。柜台后面站着一位灰发的中年女人，妆容精致，她微微点头和进来的西塞莉•马赫打了个招呼，然后继续和她正在服务的女顾客交谈。
这位顾客是位小个子黑人女人。她背对着他们，因此看不到她的脸。她以蹩脚的英语谈着话，右边是一只沙发，一对椅子，一张桌子，桌上有些杂志。这儿坐着两个男人——明显是不耐烦地等待妻子的丈夫们。
西塞莉径直经过他们身边，进了最里面的一扇门，她留了条门缝，以便汤米跟进去。
就在他进门的瞬间，那位女顾客说：“啊，我想那是我的一位盆（朋）友。”紧跟着冲过来，及时地把脚斜插在门缝里，以免它关上。同时那两个男人也站起来，一个紧随女人穿过那道门，另一位冲到店员身边捂住她的嘴，以免她喊出声。
与此同时，在摇摆的门后，汤米刚一进去，一件衣服猛地扔过来罩住他的头，一股难闻的气味袭来。几乎同时，这件衣服又被猛拉下来，一个女人的尖叫声突然响起。
汤米眨了眨眼，又连咳了几声，才看清眼前的一幕。他右边站着几小时前见过的那位神秘的陌生人，忙着给这位陌生人戴手铐的是商店里其中一位不耐烦的男人。在他面前，西塞莉徒劳地挣扎着，而那位女顾客则紧紧地抱着她。这位女顾客转过头来，她戴着的面纱迅速掉下来，塔彭丝的脸出现在面前。
“干得漂亮，塔彭丝，”汤米说，冲向前来，“让我来帮你。如果是我，就乖乖地束手就擒，欧哈拉小姐——或者您更愿意叫马赫小姐？”
“这位是格雷斯探长，汤米，”塔彭丝说，“我看了你的留言就给苏格兰场打了电话，然后格雷斯探长和另一位先生就与我在这家店外会合了。”
“很高兴抓住这个家伙，”探长说，指着他的犯人，“我们一直苦苦找他，但从未怀疑过这个地方——我们一直认为这儿是一家货真价实的美容店呢。”
“您看，”汤米温和地解释，“我们确实需要特别细心！为什么有人想要大使的包，却只保留了一两个小时？我从反面分析这个问题。假设另一个包才是重要的那个。有人想要让这个包混在大使的行李中一两个小时。这样就明朗多了！外交官的行李无须经过海关检查。他们的目的显然是走私，但是走私什么呢？绝不是太笨重的东西。我马上想到了毒品。然后那位特别的小丑在我办公室里表演了一通。他们看到了我的寻人启事，想让我停止追踪——如果不成功，就干掉我。但是我恰好注意到，当阿尔伯特玩他的套索时，这位迷人的女士眼中表现出的惊慌神色。这和她的立场十分不符。陌生人的袭击是想让我相信她。于是我就全力扮演一个容易上当的侦探——听信她那个离奇的故事，让她把我引到这儿来。临出发前，我小心地留下处理后面事宜的详细指令。然后我还找各种借口拖延到达这儿的时间，以便给你们留足时间。”
西塞莉•马赫冷冷地看着她。
“你疯了，你指望从这儿找到什么？”
“记得理查兹说曾在那个旅行包中看到一罐浴盐，咱们就从浴盐开始如何，啊，探长？”
“很好的主意，先生。”
他拿起一个精致的粉色罐子，在桌子上把它倒空。这个女孩哈哈大笑起来。
“真正的晶体，啊？”汤米说，“难道全都是碳酸盐吗？”
“打开保险柜看看。”塔彭丝提议。
屋内角落里有一个小保险柜镶在墙壁中。钥匙就插在锁孔里。汤米旋转钥匙，打开保险柜，满意地叫了一声。保险柜背面竟现出一个大大的墙凹。这个凹处塞满了同样精致的浴盐罐，一排排全都是。他拿出一罐，撬开盖子。上面是同样的粉色仙客来浴盐，但是下面却是细细的白色粉末。
探长激动地叫了一声。
“您找到了，先生，十有八九，这些罐子里装满了纯净可卡因。我们早就知道这一片有一个毒品集散地，以便于把毒品发散到伦敦西区，但是我们一直没有找到任何线索。您立了大功，先生。”
“不如说是布兰特卓越侦探事务所的功劳。”汤米对塔彭丝说，当他们一起走到街上时，“做个已婚男士真好，你的谆谆教诲最终教会了我识别过氧化物之类的化学品。那位金发女郎一定用了点真东西骗我。我们得炮制一封官方信件给大使，向他报告这件事已经圆满解决。那么现在，我亲爱的朋友，来杯茶，再多来几块热奶油松饼怎么样？”
[1]福琼和贝尔分别是亨利•贝利（Henny.C. Bailey, 1878—1961）所著《呼叫福琼先生》（CallMr.Fortune）中的侦探和警长。
第十七章 代号十六的男人（1）
第十七章 代号十六的男人
1汤米和塔彭丝与探长卡特关在那间私人办公室密里谈着。探长热情而真诚地称赞他俩。
“你们取得的成功令人钦佩。由于你们的出色工作，我们已经抓到至少五名警方十分关注的人物，从他们口中我们得到不少有价值的情报。同时，我得到可靠消息，莫斯科间谍总部对他们的特工人员屡遭失败已深感警觉。我想尽管我们尽可能小心，但他们还是已经开始怀疑这一切不顺的原因就在于你们，这个堪称警局分中心的地方——西奥多•布兰特先生的办公室——即国际侦探所。”
“哦，”汤米说，“我想他们总有一天会找到这儿，先生。”
“正如你所说，只能寄希望于将来了。但是我有点担心——汤米太太。”
“我会一直照料她的，先生。”汤米说，几乎同时，塔彭丝说：“我可以自己照料自己。”
“唔，”卡特先生说，“过分自信一直是你俩的特色。但是我得说，不管你们对挫折的‘免疫力’是完全归功于你们的过人才智呢，还是有一小部分要靠悄然而至的幸运——对此我不想下定论——但是，好运气不会一直相伴，你们要知道。而且，我不想在这点上争论。根据我对汤米太太的充分了解，我想，要求她之后一两周不再抛头露面，估计是不可能的吧。”
塔彭丝猛烈地摇头。
“那么我能做的只能是尽可能地给你们提供信息。我们有充分理由相信，莫斯科已决定派一位特工人员潜入这个国家。我们不知道他以什么名字旅行，不知道他什么时间到达。
但是我们确实了解到一些情况。战争中他给我们制造了巨大的麻烦。这位先生简直是无处不在，神出鬼没。他出生在俄国，语言能力出色——出色到能在六个国家畅行无阻，当然也包括我们国家。他也是一位伪装的高手。他老谋深算，就是他发明了第十六号代码。
“他什么时间出现，以什么方式出现，我不得而知。但是我相当肯定他一定会出现。我们清楚地了解到一点——他个人并不认识真正的西奥多•布兰特先生。我想他会出现在你的办公室，借口委托你办案子，尝试用暗号试探你。第一个问题，如你所知，就会提到数字十六——你应该回答一句含有同一个数字的句子。第二个问题，我们也是刚刚得知，是你是否曾穿过英吉利海峡。答案是：‘我上个月十三号在柏林。’至今我们就知道这些。我建议你要正确无误地回答暗语，尽最大努力赢得他的信任。尽可能地扮演好你的角色，但是即使他表现得已经完全上当，你也要保持警惕。我们的朋友特别狡猾，能同时扮演两面派，比你玩得更好。但是不论发生什么情况，我都希望通过你抓住他。从今天起，我要采取特殊的防范措施。昨晚你办公室里装上了一个窃听器，这样我在楼下房间安插的人手就能听到你办公室里的一切动静。一旦有情况我就能立刻接到报告，从而采取必要的措施保护你和你太太的安全，同时也能把我一直追踪的案犯缉拿归案。”
探长又作了进一步指示，讨论了下一步行动方案后，这两个年轻人就告辞了，他们要尽快赶往布兰特卓越侦探所。
“太晚了，”汤米说，看看表，“已经两点了。我们和探长待了好长时间。希望我们没有错过什么有趣的案子。”
“总体来说，”塔彭丝说，“我们干得不赖。我改天列个成绩单。我们已经破了四桩令人困惑的谋杀案，围捕了一个假币犯罪团伙和一个毒品贩卖团伙——”
“两个团伙，”汤米插话道，“这么多啊！我很高兴。‘团伙’这个词让我们显得很专业。”
塔彭丝继续说，扳着手指逐条计数。
“破了一件珠宝盗窃案，两次虎口脱险，找到了一位想隐藏自己行踪的女士，帮助了一个穷困潦倒的女孩，破解了一个天衣无缝的不在场伪证。哦，天啊，还有一个案子我们自己出了洋相。总体来说，好极了！我们非常聪明，我认为。”
“你完全应该这样认为，”汤米说，“你一直都很聪明。现在我隐约觉得我们多少还是有些幸运。”
“胡说，”塔彭丝说，“一切都是我们那小小的灰色脑细胞的功劳。”
“好吧，我有一次就是交了好运，”汤米说，“就是阿尔伯特玩套索那天！但是，一切好像要结束了，塔彭丝？”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，她动情地放低了声音，“这是我们最后一个案子。等他们追踪到那个超级间谍，伟大的侦探们就要退休了，养养蜂，种种西葫芦 [1] 。一切就结束了。”
“退休，啊？”
“是——是的，退休。而且，我们现在这么成功——运气可能会改变。”
“现在是谁在说‘运气’啊？”汤米得意扬扬地问。
这时他们拐进一幢大楼的门，这幢楼里是国际侦探所的办公室，塔彭丝没有问答。
阿尔伯特正在外面办公室值班，利用空闲时间练习，或者说努力在鼻梁上平衡一把办公尺。
伟大的布兰特先生严厉地皱起眉头以示责备，从他身边走过进了自己的办公室。他脱下外套，摘下帽子，打开橱柜，书架上静静躺着他的经典文学——著名的侦探小说。
“可供选择的范围越来越小了，”汤米喃喃道，“今天我该效仿哪位大师呢？”
塔彭丝的声音响起来，带着一种不寻常的语调，这让他迅速转过身来。
“汤米，”她说，“今天是这个月的几号？”
“让我看看——十一号——怎么啦？”
“看看日历。”
墙上挂着那种可以每天撕下一页的日历。上面鲜明地印着星期日，十六号。而今天才星期一。
“天啊，这太奇怪了。阿尔伯特一定多撕了好几页，这个粗心的小鬼。”
“我认为不是他干的。”塔彭丝说，“不过我们还是问问他。”
阿尔伯特，被叫来询问，似乎十分吃惊。他发誓自己只是撕下了两页，上个星期六和星期天的。他的说法很快得到了证实，因为阿尔伯特撕下的那两页在壁炉里找到了，而后面这几张却整齐地躺在废纸篓中。
“一位利落而有条理的罪犯，”汤米说，“他今天上午来过。阿尔伯特，今天有没有什么客人？”
“只有一位，先生。”
“他长什么样？”
“是‘她’。一位医院的护士。非常困扰，急于见您。她说要等您来。我把她带进办公室，因为那里暖和点。”
“那她当然可以方便地从那儿走进这里，而且还不会让你看见。她在这儿待了多久？”
“大约半个小时，先生，她说下午还会再打电话。她是一个慈眉善目的人。”
“慈眉善目？——哦，出去吧，阿尔伯特。”
阿尔伯特有些委屈地退下了。
“奇怪的信号，”汤米说，“似乎是无心之举，但我们不能掉以轻心。我想火炉里不会有颗炸弹之类的东西吧？”
在确保安全之后，汤米坐在办公桌后面，对塔彭丝滔滔不绝地演讲起来。
“我的朋友 [2] ，”他说，“我们现在面临最严峻的考验。你记不记得，那位代号为四的人物，多洛米蒂，我用炸药把他炸得像鸡蛋壳一样碎——借助烈性炸药的威力，当然 [3] 。但是他并没有死——啊，没有，他们没有真正地消亡，那些超级罪犯们。这位就是那种人——甚至更穷凶极恶，依我之见。他现在是四的平方——换句话说，他现在就是代号十六的人。你明白了吗，我的朋友？”
“当然，”塔彭丝说，“你现在是伟大的赫尔克里•波洛。”
“正是。虽没有胡子，但有许多灰色脑细胞。”
“我有种感觉，”塔彭丝说，“这次特殊的历险可以叫作‘黑斯廷斯的胜利’。”
“不行，”汤米说，“这不成。鹿死谁手还不一定呢。一失足成千古恨，这类游戏是有规矩的。顺便提个建议，我的朋友，你的头发能中分，而不是偏分吗？现在这个发式看起来既不对称也不好看。”
汤米桌上的蜂鸣器尖锐地叫起来，他回复了暗号，阿尔伯特带着一张名片进来。
“弗拉迪罗夫斯基亲王，”汤米以低沉的声音读道，他看了看塔彭丝，“我想——带他进来，阿尔伯特。”
进来的男人中等身材，举止优雅，蓄着漂亮的小胡子，显然大约三十五岁的年纪。
“布兰特先生？”他问道，英语十分标准，“有人向我极力推荐您，您能为我处理一个案子吗？”
“如果您能详细描述一下——？”
“当然，这事关系到我朋友的女儿——一位十六岁的女孩。我们担心丑闻传出去——我想您能理解。”
“我亲爱的先生，”汤米说，“敝所已经成功运作了十六年，这都得归功于我们严格遵守的那一条特殊原则。”
他隐约感到那个人眼睛突然亮了一下，但这种神色转瞬即逝。
“你们设有分部，我相信，在英吉利海峡另一边？”
“哦，是的。事实上，”汤米小心地选择措辞，“我本人上个月十三号就在柏林。”
“既然这样，”陌生人说道，“那就没有必要绕弯子了，我那位朋友的女儿也可以不用再提。您应该知道我是谁——至少我看您已经明白了我要来的信号。”
他朝墙上的日历点点头。
“是的。”汤米说。
“我的朋友——我来这儿是要调查一些情况。最近发生了什么？”
“有人反水。”塔彭丝说，她此刻再也不能保持缄默。
这位俄国人把注意力转向她，扬起了眉毛。
“啊——哈，果然是这样，是吗？我也这样认为。您是塞吉阿斯？”
“我们认为是的。”塔彭丝面不改色地说。
“这不奇怪。但是你们自己怎么样，是不是也被监视了？”
“我想没有。我们做了许多真生意，您明白。”汤米解释道。
这个俄国人点点头。
“这样做很明智。同样，我想如果我不再来这儿你们会做得更好。这一阵子我住在布利兹。我会带走玛丽斯——这是玛丽斯，我猜？”
塔彭丝点点头。
“在这儿怎么称呼您？”
“哦，鲁宾孙小姐。”
“很好，鲁宾孙小姐，你和我一起回布利兹，在那儿共进午餐。我们三点钟在总部会合，明白了吗？”他看着汤米。
“十分清楚。”汤米回答道，心里却想这总部到底在哪儿。
但是他猜卡特先生最急于找到的也是这个总部。
塔彭丝站起身，披上她那件黑色的带有豹纹领的长外套。然后，端庄地说她已经准备好与亲王出发。
他们一起走出去，汤米一个人留在办公室里，心中五味杂陈。
难道窃听器出了问题？难道那位神秘的护士不知怎么觉察到安装了窃听器，把它弄坏了？
他一把抓起话筒，拨了一个特殊的号码。一分钟后，一个熟悉的声音响起。
“很好。立刻到布利兹！”
五分钟后汤米和卡特先生在布利兹的棕榈酒店会面了。卡特先生显得兴致勃勃、胸有成竹。
“干得好。亲王和那位小巧的女士在饭店吃午餐呢。我带了两个人来，扮成侍者。他可能会怀疑，也可能不会——不过我相当肯定他不会察觉——他已是俎上鱼肉。我还在楼上安排了两个人，盯着他的套房，外面有更多的人手，准备好跟踪他们。不用担心你太太，她一直都在我们的视野之中。我不会冒任何风险的。”
偶尔会有情报局的人员进来报告事情进展。第一次进来的是一位侍者，他负责给亲王送鸡尾酒，第二次是一位一脸茫然的时髦年轻人。
“他们走出了餐厅，”卡特先生说，“我们躲到这根柱子后面，以防他们过来坐在这儿，但是我想他会带她上楼去套房。啊，是的，我的想法是对的。”
借助于有利的地势，汤米看到那个俄国人和塔彭丝穿过大厅，进了电梯。
过了一会儿，汤米开始坐立不安。
“您认为，先生，孤男寡女在那个套房里——”
“我安排了一个人进去——藏在沙发后面。别担心，年轻人。”
一位侍者穿过大厅来到卡特先生面前。
“有信号说他们乘电梯上楼了，先生——但他们还没有上楼。不会有什么问题吧，先生？”
“什么？”卡特先生跳起来，“我亲眼看到他们进了电梯，刚刚。”他扫了一眼钟表，“四分半钟之前，他们还没有出现……”
他迅速穿过大厅，跑向电梯，电梯恰好再次下来，他对身着制服的服务员说：“你刚才带了一位蓄着漂亮小胡子的绅士和一位年轻女士到了三楼，对吧？”
“不是三楼，先生，这位绅士要求去四楼。”
“哦！”探长跳进电梯，示意汤米和他一起上去，“请带我们去四楼。”
“这是怎么回事，”他低声嘟囔道，“但是别慌，旅馆的每个出口都有人监视，我也在四楼安排了一个人——实际上，每层楼都有，力求万无一失。”
电梯门在四楼打开，他们跳出去，迅速沿走廊跑去，跑到半路，一个身着侍者制服的男人走向他们。
“一切顺利，头儿，他们在三一八房间。”
卡特长出了一口气。
“很好。没有其他出口？”
“那是一个套房。但是只有两扇门通往走廊，从任意一个房间出来，他们都得经过我们才能到达楼梯间或电梯。”
“好吧，那么。给楼下打电话，问问是谁订的这个房间。”
这位侍者一两分钟后又回来了。
“是从美国底特律来的科特兰•万辛德夫人。”
卡特先生若有所思。
“我想，这位万辛德夫人是不是同谋？或者她是——”他没有说下去。
“听到里面有什么动静吗？”他突然问。
“什么也没有。房门紧闭，什么也别想听到。”
卡特先生突然做出决定。
“我想不能再等了，我们必须马上进去，拿到万能钥匙了？”
“当然，先生。”
“叫埃文斯和克雷德斯利上来。”
另外两个人过来增援，他们向套房走去。打头的人插入钥匙，门无声地打开。
他们发现自己置身于一间小小的门厅里，只见右边浴室门敞开着，前面是客厅。左边紧闭的门后传出微弱的声音——很像一只哈巴狗在喘粗气。卡特先生推开门进去。这是一间卧室，一张大双人床，上面铺着玫瑰色和金色相间的华丽床单。上面躺着一位打扮时尚的中年女子，她手脚捆绑着，嘴里塞着毛巾，一双眼睛充满了痛苦和愤怒，眼珠几乎要瞪出眼眶。
卡特先生一声令下，其他人立刻把整个套房警戒起来。只有汤米和他的长官进入卧房。他弯下腰费力地解开绳结的同时，卡特困惑地扫视着这个房间。除了许多典型的美式行李之外，这个房间再无别物，没有那位俄国人和塔彭丝的一丝踪迹。
又过了一会儿，那位侍者再次急匆匆进来，报告说其他房间也是空的。汤米走到窗边查看，结果也只是退回来并摇摇头。窗户没有阳台——只有矗立的高墙连着下面的街道，空空如也。
“确定他们进了这个房间？”卡特断然问。
“肯定是。并且——”这个男人指了指床上的女人。
借助铅笔刀，卡特割开围巾，这东西几乎勒得她快要窒息了。显然，不管她受了什么苦，他们都不可能放过科特兰•万辛德夫人的证言。
当她怒气稍稍平息了些，卡特先生温和地说：
“您不介意告诉我发生了什么事吧——从头到尾？”
“我想我要起诉这家酒店。这是赤裸裸的侮辱。我当时正在找我的那瓶治流感的药，然后一个男人从后面扑过来，在我鼻子底下打开一个小玻璃瓶，然后我就喘不过气来，浑身瘫软了。等我醒过来，我就躺在了这儿，五花大绑，只有上帝知道我的珠宝怎样了，他拿走了不少，我猜。”
“你的珠宝很安全，我想，”卡特先生冷冰冰地说，他转过身去，从地板上拿起一些东西，“你就站在这儿，他扑向你的时候？”
“就是这样。”万辛德夫人赞同道。
卡特先生捡起来的是一片薄玻璃。他闻了闻，递给汤米。
“是氯乙烷，”他嘟囔道，“有立竿见影的麻醉效果。但是效果只能持续一两分钟。因此当你醒来时他一定还在这个房间里，万辛德夫人？”
“难道我刚才没有告诉您？哦！眼睁睁地看他逃走，而我却束手无策，一动不能动，简直要把我气疯了。”
“逃走？”卡特尖锐地问，“从哪儿？”
“从那道门，”她指着对面墙上的一道门，“他挟持着一个女孩，但是她看起来有些软弱无力，似乎也被下了那种麻醉药。”
卡特疑惑地看着他的手下。
“那扇门通往下一个套房，先生，但是门连通两个房间——可能两边都被闩住了。”
卡特仔细检查那扇门。然后他直起腰来，转身面向那张床。
“万辛德夫人，”他平静地说，“您仍然坚持您的说法，那个人是从这儿出去的？”
“哇，当然，为什么不是？”
“因为这扇门恰恰是从这边闩住的。”卡特先生冷冷地说。他边说边“咯咯”地摇着把手。
万辛德夫人脸上浮现了十分震惊的表情。
“除非有人在他走后又把门闩住，”卡特先生说，“否则，他不可能从这扇门出去。”
他转向埃文斯，他刚刚进入房间。
“确定他们没在这个套房里？还有没有其他门通往别处？”
“没有，先生，我相当肯定。”
卡特来回打量这个房间，打开吊橱，检视床底，爬上烟囱，掀开窗帘。最后，他突然想到了什么，完全不顾万辛德夫人尖叫反对，打开大衣橱，迅速在里面翻找。
突然，本来一直在连通门旁边的汤米发出一声喊叫。
“过来，先生，看这儿。他们就是从这儿离开的。”
门闩被巧妙地挫断了，离得这么近观察窝槽，才勉强能看到挫断的地方。
“这门打不开，因为另一边锁死了。”汤米解释。
过了一会儿，他们又回到走廊里，侍者用万能钥匙打开邻近套房的门。这套房并未租出去，他们走向连通门，看到同样的把戏再次上演，这个门闩也被挫断，然后门被从外面锁上，钥匙被拔了下来。但是这间套房中并没有塔彭丝和那位美髯俄国人的踪迹，并且这个房间并没有另外一扇连通门，只有一扇通往走廊的门。
“但是我应该看到他们出来啊，”侍者提出异议，“不可能看不到，我发誓他们根本没有出来。”
“活见鬼，”汤米喊道，“他们不可能凭空消失。”
“给楼下打电话，看看这间套房里最后的顾客是谁，什么时间订的房间。”
埃文斯过来和他们会合，留下克雷德斯利在另外一间套房蹲守。埃文斯马上执行卡特的命令，他很快从电话机旁抬起头来：
“是一位法国残疾小伙，保罗•德瓦雷泽先生。一位护士陪着他。他们今天上午才离开。”
另一位情报局特工，即那位侍者突然叫了一声，脸色变得死灰一般。
“残疾小伙——护士，”他结结巴巴地说，“我——我们在走廊里擦肩而过。我做梦也没想到——我以前经常看到他们。”
“你肯定他们是同样两个人？”卡特先生喊道，“肯定吗，伙计？你仔细看了吗？”
这个人摇摇头。
“我几乎没看他们。我在等待，您知道，密切注意着别人，那个蓄着小胡子的男人和那个女孩。”
“当然，”卡特先生呻吟了一声，“他们只关注一头儿了。”
伴随着一声喊叫，汤米弯下腰，从沙发下面拽出了什么，那是一个小小的卷成一团的黑色包裹，汤米展开它，几件东西掉落下来。包裹皮是从塔彭丝当天所穿长外套上撕下来的一块布，里面是她外出时穿的衣服、她的帽子，以及一条长长的漂亮胡子。
“现在事情足够清楚了，”他痛苦地说，“他们抓了她，抓了塔彭丝。这个俄国魔鬼给了我们信号。那个护士和男孩是他们的同谋。他们待在这家旅馆一两天，以便人们都习惯他们进出。那个男人一定在午餐时就意识到有圈套，接下来就开始实施他的阴谋。可能他原本以为隔壁房间是空的，因为他处理插销时确实如此。然后，他又让隔壁房间的女人和塔彭丝都闭了嘴，带塔彭丝来这个房间，让她穿上男孩的衣服，自己也乔装打扮，然后大摇大摆地出去。衣服一定是事先都藏好的。但是我不明白他如何让塔彭丝听任他摆布。”
“我明白，”卡特先生说，从地毯上捡起一小截闪光的钢针，“这是半截注射针头，她被麻醉了。”
“我的天啊！”汤米痛苦地呻吟了一声，“他逃之夭夭了。”
“我们还不确定，”卡特飞快地说，“别忘了每个出口都有人把守。”
“但我们的人只会留意一个男人和一个女孩，而不是一位护士和一个残疾男孩。他们现在一定已经离开了这家旅馆。”
一番询问之后，结果证明就是这样。那位护士和他的病人五分钟前就乘坐一辆出租车离开了。
“听着，贝尔斯福德，”卡特先生说，“看在上帝的分儿上，振作起来，你知道我会千方百计找到那个女孩。我马上回办公室，五分钟后部门所有人员都会行动起来。我们会找到他们。”
“是吗，先生？他是个狡猾的恶魔，那个俄国佬。看看他这次狡猾的行动。但是我知道您一定会尽全力。只是——老天，但愿还为时未晚。他们这次采取了非常手段来对付我们。”
他离开布利兹旅馆，漫无目的地沿着大街走，不知道自己该去哪儿。他觉得自己完全无能为力。去哪儿搜索？接下来干什么？
他走进格林公园，跌坐在一个石凳上，几乎没有注意到另外一个人在另一头坐下来，几乎被吓了一跳。他听到一个熟悉的声音响起：
“如果您愿意，先生，我能不能冒昧——”
汤米抬起头。
“哦，阿尔伯特。”他无精打采地说。
“我都知道了，先生——但是请别这样。”
“别这样——”他哼笑了一声，“说起来容易，不是吗？”
“啊，但是想想，先生，布兰特卓越侦探事务所！永不言败。请您原谅，我今天上午恰好偷听到您和夫人谈论的事情。波洛先生，还有他那小小的灰色脑细胞。那么，先生，为什么您不动用一下您的灰色脑细胞，看看能干什么。”
“在小说中动脑筋要比在现实中容易得多，我的孩子。”
“好吧，”阿尔伯特固执地说，“我不相信有人能干掉夫人，让她永远消失。您知道，先生，她就像您给小狗买的橡胶骨头——保证嚼不烂，打不垮。”
“阿尔伯特，”汤米说，“你鼓舞了我。”
“那么用用您的灰色脑细胞？先生。”
“你是个固执的孩子，阿尔伯特。直到现在你都为我们服务得很好，顺带装傻充愣。我们再试一次。让我们再完整地梳理一遍。两点十分整，我们的猎物从电梯进来。五分钟后，我们和电梯服务员交谈，听了他的说法我们也上到四楼。两点十分之后，我们进入万辛德夫人的套房，那么，有什么重大的事件触动我们吗？”
一阵静默，没有重大事件触动他们中的任何人。
“房间里有没有像行李箱之类的东西，有吗？”阿尔伯特问，他的眼睛突然闪了一下。
“我的朋友 [4] ，”汤米说，“你不懂一个刚从巴黎回来的美国女人的心理，房间里有，我得说，差不多十九只箱子。”
“我的意思是，如果你有尸体想处理掉，每只箱子都是便利的运送工具——我不是说，她现在死了，只是暂时昏迷。”
“我们搜查了，只有两只箱子足够大，可以装下一具尸体。那么按时间顺序接下来发生了什么？”
“你们忽略了一点——夫人和那个家伙装扮成护士和走廊里的侍者擦肩而过的时间。”
“那时一定是我们刚刚登上电梯的时候，”汤米说，“如果我们曾面对面遇到，他们一定没有机会逃走。行动好快啊，那，我——”
他停下来。
“怎么了，先生？”
“安静，我的朋友 [5] 。我有个小想法——但会产生巨大的、惊人的结果——赫尔克里•波洛总是有这样的小想法。但是如果这样——如果是这样——哦，上帝，我希望我能来得及。”
他拔腿跑出公园，阿尔伯特费力地紧随其后，边跑边上气不接下气地问：“怎么了，先生？我不明白。”
“没事，”汤米说，“你没必要明白。黑斯廷斯先生就从来没明白过。如果不是你的灰色脑细胞比我的更发达，我就输掉这场游戏了，你想这得多可笑？我说的是可怕的僵化思维——但是我总免不了犯这个毛病。你是好样的，阿尔伯特，你知道塔彭丝的价值——她抵得上一打你和我。”
汤米边跑边气喘吁吁地说，跑进了布利兹酒店的大门。他看到埃文斯，把他拉到一边急匆匆说了几句，这两人就进了电梯，阿尔伯特紧随他们一起进去。
“到四层。”汤米说。
在三一八房门口，他们停下来。埃文斯有一把万能钥匙，立刻派上了用场。他们一声不吭径直进了万辛德夫人的卧室。这位女士还躺在床上，但是现在换上了家居服。她吃惊地看着他们。
“请原谅我没有敲门，”汤米愉快地说，“但是我来找我的太太。您不介意从床上下来吧？”
“我想您一定疯了。”万辛德夫人叫道。
汤米若有所思地审视着她，偏着脑袋。
“非常优雅，”他说，“但是接下来就不会了。我们曾看过床底下——但是没发现什么。
我记得小时候我用过那种藏身地，就是与地面平行的床的夹层，在衬垫下面。当然，那个漂亮的行李箱是准备一会儿带走尸体的。但是我们刚才回来找你有点快，让你只来得及给塔彭丝注射了麻醉剂，把她放进了衬垫中。由于你被隔壁的同谋塞住了口，捆绑住了手脚，我得承认我们当时完全相信了你的故事。但是清醒过来后就会有人想到——通过井井有条地梳理——给一个女孩注射毒品，给她穿上男孩的衣服，塞住另一个女人的嘴，并捆绑好，然后自己乔装打扮——在五分钟之内完成。从常识来说，绝无可能。护士和那个男孩只是个诱饵。我们顺着那条线索追查，万辛德夫人就是个值得同情的受害者。现在帮助这位女士下床，可以吗，埃文斯？您本有此意，好。”
尽管反抗激烈，万辛德夫人还是被从床上拉下来。汤米掀开被子和衬垫。
那儿，横躺着的正是塔彭丝，她双眼紧闭，脸色苍白。瞬间汤米觉得一阵恐惧，但是接着他看到她胸脯微弱地起伏着。她是被麻醉了——没死。
他转身面对着阿尔伯特和埃文斯。
“那么现在，先生，”他演戏般地说，“打板！”
以迅雷不及掩耳之势，他抓住了万辛德夫人精心梳理的十分优雅的头发，头发从她头上掉了下来。
“不出所料，”汤米说，“他就是代号十六的男人。”
Seventeen THE MAN WHO WAS NO. 16（2）
II
It was about half an hour later when Tuppence opened her eyes andfound a doctor and Tommy bending over her.
Over the events of the next quarter of an hour a decent veil had betterbe drawn, but after that period the doctor departed with the assurancethat all was now well.
“Mon ami, Hastings,” said Tommy fondly. “How I rejoice that you arestill alive.”
“Have we got No. 16?”
“Once more I have crushed him like an eggshell — in other words,Carter’s got him. The little grey cells! By the way, I’m raising Albert’swages.”
“Tell me all about it.”
Tommy gave her a spirited narrative, with certain omissions.
“Weren’t you half frantic about me?” asked Tuppence faintly.
“Not particularly. One must keep calm, you know.”
“Liar!” said Tuppence. “You look quite haggard still.”
“Well, perhaps, I was just a little worried, darling. I say—we’re going togive it up now, aren’t we?”
“Certainly we are.”
Tommy gave a sigh of relief.
“I hoped you’d be sensible. After a shock like this—”
“It’s not the shock. You know I never mind shocks.”
“A rubber bone—indestructible,” murmured Tommy.
“I’ve got something better to do,” continued Tuppence. “Something everso much more exciting. Something I’ve never done before.”
Tommy looked at her with lively apprehension.
“I forbid it, Tuppence.”
“You can’t,” said Tuppence. “It’s a law of nature.”
“What are you talking about, Tuppence?”
“I’m talking,” said Tuppence, “of Our Baby. Wives don’t whispernowadays. They shout. OUR BABY! Tommy, isn’t everything marvellous?”
Seventeen THE MAN WHO WAS NO. 16（1）
Seventeen THE MAN WHO WAS NO. 16

Tommy and Tuppence were closeted with the Chief in his private room.
His commendation had been warm and sincere.
“You have succeeded admirably. Thanks to you we have laid our handson no less than five very interesting personages, and from them we havereceived much valuable information. Meanwhile I learn from a creditablesource that headquarters in Moscow have taken alarm at the failure oftheir agents to report. I think that in spite of all our precautions they havebegun to suspect that all is not well at what I may call the distributingcentre—the office of Mr. Theodore Blunt—the International Detective Bur-eau.”
“Well,” said Tommy, “I suppose they were bound to tumble to it sometime or other, sir.”
“As you say, it was only to be expected. But I am a little worried—aboutMrs. Tommy.”
“I can look after her all right, sir,” said Tommy, at exactly the sameminute as Tuppence said, “I can take care of myself.”
“H’m,” said Mr. Carter. “Excessive self-confidence was always a charac-teristic of you two. Whether your immunity is entirely due to your ownsuperhuman cleverness, or whether a small percentage of luck creeps in,I’m not prepared to say. But luck changes, you know. However, I won’t ar-gue the point. From my extensive knowledge of Mrs. Tommy, I suppose it’squite useless to ask her to keep out of the limelight for the next week ortwo?”
Tuppence shook her head very energetically.
“Then all I can do is to give you all the information that I can. We havereason to believe that a special agent has been despatched from Moscowto this country. We don’t know what name he is travelling under, we don’tknow when he will arrive. But we do know something about him. He is aman who gave us great trouble in the war, an ubiquitous kind of fellowwho turned up all over the place where we least wanted him. He is a Rus-sian by birth, and an accomplished linguist—so much so that he can passas half a dozen other nationalities, including our own. He is also a pastmaster in the art of disguise. And he has brains. It was he who devised theNo. 16 code.
“When and how he will turn up, I do not know. But I am fairly certainthat he will turn up. We do know this—he was not personally acquaintedwith the real Mr. Theodore Blunt. I think that he will turn up at your of-fice, on the pretext of a case which he will wish you to take up, and will tryyou with the pass words. The first, as you know, is the mention of thenumber sixteen—which is replied to by a sentence containing the samenumber. The second, which we have only just learnt, is an inquiry as towhether you have ever crossed the Channel. The answer to that is: ‘I wasin Berlin on the 13th of last month.’ As far as we know that is all. I wouldsuggest that you reply correctly, and so endeavour to gain his confidence.
Sustain the fiction if you possibly can. But even if he appears to be com-pletely deceived, remain on your guard. Our friend is particularly astute,and can play a double game as well, or better, than you can. But in eithercase I hope to get him through you. From this day forward I am adoptingspecial precautions. A dictaphone was installed last night in your office, sothat one of my men in the room below will be able to hear everything thatpasses in your office. In this way I shall be immediately informed if any-thing arises, and can take the necessary steps to safeguard you and yourwife whilst securing the man I am after.”
After a few more instructions, and a general discussion of tactics, thetwo young people departed and made their way as rapidly as possible tothe offices of Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives.
“It’s late,” said Tommy, looking at his watch. “Just on twelve o’clock.
We’ve been a long time with the Chief. I hope we haven’t missed a particu-larly spicy case.”
“On the whole,” said Tuppence, “we’ve not done badly. I was tabulatingresults the other day. We’ve solved four baffling murder mysteries, roun-ded up a gang of counterfeiters, ditto gang of smugglers—”
“Actually two gangs,” interpolated Tommy. “So we have! I’m glad ofthat. ‘Gangs’ sounds so professional.”
Tuppence continued, ticking off the items on her fingers.
“One jewel robbery, two escapes from violent death, one case of missinglady reducing her figure, one young girl befriended, an alibi successfullyexploded, and alas! one case where we made utter fools of ourselves. Onthe whole, jolly good! We’re very clever, I think.”
“You would think so,” said Tommy. “You always do. Now I have a secretfeeling that once or twice we’ve been rather lucky.”
“Nonsense,” said Tuppence. “All done by the little grey cells.”
“Well, I was damned lucky once,” said Tommy. “The day that Albert didhis lasso act! But you speak, Tuppence, as though it was all over?”
“So it is,” said Tuppence. She lowered her voice impressively. “This isour last case. When they have laid the superspy by the heels, the great de-tectives intend to retire and take to beekeeping or vegetable marrowgrowing. It’s always done.”
“Tired of it, eh?”
“Ye-es, I think I am. Besides, we’re so successful now—the luck mightchange.”
“Who’s talking about luck now?” asked Tommy triumphantly.
At that moment they turned in at the doorway of the block of buildingsin which the International Detective Bureau had its offices, and Tuppencedid not reply.
Albert was on duty in the outer office, employing his leisure in balan-cing, or endeavouring to balance, the office ruler upon his nose.
With a stern frown of reproof, the great Mr. Blunt passed into his ownprivate office. Divesting himself of his overcoat and hat, he opened thecupboard, on the shelves of which reposed his classic library of the greatdetectives of fiction.
“The choice narrows,” murmured Tommy. “On whom shall I model my-self today?”
Tuppence’s voice, with an unusual note in it, made him turn sharply.
“Tommy,” she said, “what day of the month is it?”
“Let me see—the eleventh—why?”
“Look at the calendar.”
Hanging on the wall was one of those calendars from which you tear aleaf every day. It bore the legend of Sunday the 16th. Today was Monday.
“By Jove, that’s odd. Albert must have torn off too many. Careless littledevil.”
“I don’t believe he did,” said Tuppence. “But we’ll ask him.”
Albert, summoned and questioned, seemed very astonished. He sworehe had only torn off two leaves, those of Saturday and Sunday. His state-ment was presently supported, for whereas the two leaves torn off by Al-bert were found in the grate, the succeeding ones were lying neatly in thewastepaper basket.
“A neat and methodical criminal,” said Tommy. “Who’s been here thismorning, Albert? A client of any kind?”
“Just one, sir.”
“What was he like?”
“It was a she. A hospital nurse. Very upset and anxious to see you. Saidshe’d wait until you came. I put her in ‘Clerks’ because it was warmer.”
“And from there she could walk in here, of course, without your seeingher. How long has she been gone?”
“About half an hour, sir. Said she’d call again this afternoon. A nicemotherly-looking body.”
“A nice motherly—oh, get out, Albert.”
Albert withdrew, injured.
“Queer start, that,” said Tommy. “It seems a little purposeless. Puts us onour guard. I suppose there isn’t a bomb concealed in the fireplace or any-thing of that kind?”
He reassured himself on that point, then he seated himself at the deskand addressed Tuppence.
“Mon ami,” he said, “we are here faced with a matter of the utmost grav-ity. You recall, do you not, the man who was No. 4. Him whom I crushedlike an egg shell in the Dolomites—with the aid of high explosives, bien en-tendu. But he was not really dead—ah, no, they are never really dead,these supercriminals. This is the man—but even more so, if I may put it.
He is the 4 squared—in other words, he is now the No. 16. You compre-hend, my friend?”
“Perfectly,” said Tuppence. “You are the great Hercule Poirot.”
“Exactly. No moustaches, but lots of grey cells.”
“I’ve a feeling,” said Tuppence, “that this particular adventure will becalled the ‘Triumph of Hastings.’ ”
“Never,” said Tommy. “It isn’t done. Once the idiot friend, always theidiot friend. There’s an etiquette in these matters. By the way, mon ami,can you not part your hair in the middle instead of one side? The presenteffect is unsymmetrical and deplorable.”
The buzzer rang sharply on Tommy’s desk. He returned the signal, andAlbert appeared bearing a card.
“Prince Vladiroffsky,” read Tommy, in a low voice. He looked at Tup-pence. “I wonder—Show him in, Albert.”
The man who entered was of middle-height, graceful in bearing, with afair beard, and apparently about thirty-five years of age.
“Mr. Blunt?” he inquired. His English was perfect. “You have been mosthighly recommended to me. Will you take up a case for me?”
“If you will give me the details—?”
“Certainly. It concerns the daughter of a friend of mine—a girl of six-teen. We are anxious for no scandal—you understand.”
“My dear sir,” said Tommy, “this business has been running successfullyfor sixteen years owing to our strict attention to that particular principle.”
He fancied he saw a sudden gleam in the other’s eye. If so, it passed asquickly as it came.
“You have branches, I believe, on the other side of the Channel?”
“Oh, yes. As a matter of fact,” he brought out the word with great delib-eration. “I myself was in Berlin on the 13th of last month.”
“In that case,” said the stranger, “it is hardly necessary to keep up thelittle fiction. The daughter of my friend can be conveniently dismissed.
You know who I am—at any rate I see you have had warning of my com-ing.”
He nodded towards the calendar on the wall.
“Quite so,” said Tommy.
“My friends—I have come over here to investigate matters. What hasbeen happening?”
“Treachery,” said Tuppence, no longer able to remain quiescent.
The Russian shifted his attention to her, and raised his eyebrows.
“Ah ha, that is so, is it? I thought as much. Was it Sergius?”
“We think so,” said Tuppence unblushingly.
“It would not surprise me. But you yourselves, you are under no suspi-cion?”
“I do not think so. We handle a good deal of bona fide business, you see,”
explained Tommy.
The Russian nodded.
“That is wise. All the same, I think it would be better if I did not comehere again. For the moment I am staying at the Blitz. I will take Marise—this is Marise, I suppose?”
Tuppence nodded.
“What is she known as here?”
“Oh, Miss Robinson.”
“Very well, Miss Robinson, you will return with me to the Blitz andlunch with me there. We will all meet at headquarters at three o’clock. Isthat clear?” He looked at Tommy.
“Perfectly clear,” replied Tommy, wondering where on earth headquar-ters might be.
But he guessed that it was just those headquarters that Mr. Carter wasso anxious to discover.
Tuppence rose and slipped on her long black coat with its leopardskincollar. Then, demurely, she declared herself ready to accompany thePrince.
They went out together, and Tommy was left behind, a prey to conflict-ing emotions.
Supposing something had gone wrong with the dictaphone? Supposingthe mysterious hospital nurse had somehow or other learnt of its installa-tion, and had rendered it useless.
He seized the telephone and called a certain number. There was a mo-ment’s delay, and then a well-known voice spoke.
“Quite O.K. Come round to the Blitz at once.”
Five minutes later Tommy and Mr. Carter met in the Palm Court of theBlitz. The latter was crisp and reassuring.
“You’ve done excellently. The Prince and the little lady are at lunch inthe restaurant. I’ve got two of my men in there as waiters. Whether hesuspects, or whether he doesn’t—and I’m fairly sure he doesn’t—we’ve gothim on toast. There are two men posted upstairs to watch his suite, andmore outside ready to follow wherever they go. Don’t be worried aboutyour wife. She’ll be kept in sight the whole time. I’m not going to run anyrisks.”
Occasionally one of the Secret Service men came to report progress. Thefirst time it was a waiter, who took their orders for cocktails, the secondtime it was a fashionable vacant-faced young man.
“They’re coming out,” said Mr. Carter. “We’ll retire behind this pillar incase they sit down here, but I fancy he’ll take her up to his suite. Ah, yes, Ithought so.”
From their post of vantage, Tommy saw the Russian and Tuppence crossthe hall and enter the lift.
The minutes passed, and Tommy began to fidget.
“Do you think, sir. I mean, alone in that suite—”
“One of my men’s inside—behind the sofa. Don’t worry, man.”
A waiter crossed the hall and came up to Mr. Carter.
“Got the signal they were coming up, sir—but they haven’t come. Is it allright?”
“What?” Mr. Carter spun round. “I saw them go into the lift myself.
Just,” he glanced up at the clock—“four and a half minutes ago. And theyhaven’t shown up. .?.?.”
He hurried across to the lift which had just at that minute come downagain, and spoke to the uniformed attendant.
“You took up a gentleman with a fair beard and a young lady a fewminutes ago to the second floor.”
“Not the second floor, sir. Third floor the gentleman asked for.”
“Oh!” The Chief jumped in, motioning Tommy to accompany him. “Takeus up to the third floor, please.”
“I don’t understand this,” he murmured in a low voice. “But keep calm.
Every exit from the hotel is watched, and I’ve got a man on the third flooras well—on every floor, in fact. I was taking no chances.”
The lift door opened on the third floor and they sprang out, hurryingdown the corridor. Half way along it, a man dressed as a waiter came tomeet them.
“It’s all right, Chief. They’re in No. 318.”
Carter breathed a sigh of relief.
“That’s all right. No other exit?”
“It’s a suite, but there are only these two doors into the corridor, and toget out from any of these rooms, they’d have to pass us to get to the stair-case or the lifts.”
“That’s all right then. Just telephone down and find out who is supposedto occupy this suite.”
The waiter returned in a minute or two.
“Mrs. Cortlandt Van Snyder of Detroit.”
Mr. Carter became very thoughtful.
“I wonder now. Is this Mrs. VanSnyder an accomplice, or is she—”
He left the sentence unfinished.
“Hear any noise from inside?” he asked abruptly.
“Not a thing. But the doors fit well. One couldn’t hope to hear much.”
Mr. Carter made up his mind suddenly.
“I don’t like this business. We’re going in. Got the master key?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Call up Evans and Clydesly.”
Reinforced by the other two men, they advanced towards the door of thesuite. It opened noiselessly when the first man inserted his key.
They found themselves in a small hall. To the right was the open door ofa bathroom, and in front of them was the sitting room. On the left was aclosed door and from behind it a faint sound—rather like an asthmaticpug—could be heard. Mr. Carter pushed the door open and entered.
The room was a bedroom, with a big double bed, ornately covered witha bedspread of rose and gold. On it, bound hand and foot, with her mouthsecured by a gag and her eyes almost starting out of her head with painand rage, was a middle-aged fashionably-dressed woman.
On a brief order from Mr. Carter, the other men had covered the wholesuite. Only Tommy and his Chief had entered the bedroom. As he leantover the bed and strove to unfasten the knots, Carter’s eyes went rovinground the room in perplexity. Save for an immense quantity of trulyAmerican luggage, the room was empty. There was no sign of the Russianor Tuppence.
In another minute the waiter came hurrying in, and reported that theother rooms were also empty. Tommy went to the window, only to drawback and shake his head. There was no balcony—nothing but a sheer dropto the street below.
“Certain it was this room they entered?” asked Carter peremptorily.
“Sure. Besides—” The man indicated the woman on the bed.
With the aid of a pen-knife, Carter parted the scarf that was half chokingher and it was at once clear that whatever her sufferings they had not de-prived Mrs. Cortlandt Van Snyder of the use of her tongue.
When she had exhausted her first indignation, Mr. Carter spoke mildly.
“Would you mind telling me exactly what happened—from the begin-ning?”
“I guess I’ll sue the hotel for this. It’s a perfect outrage. I was just lookingfor my bottle of ‘Killagrippe,’ when a man sprung on me from behind andbroke a little glass bottle right under my nose, and before I could get mybreath I was all in. When I came to I was lying here, all trussed up, andgoodness knows what’s happened to my jewels. He’s gotten the lot, Iguess.”
“Your jewels are quite safe, I fancy,” said Mr. Carter drily. He wheeledround and picked up something from the floor. “You were standing justwhere I am when he sprang upon you?”
“That’s so,” assented Mrs. Van Snyder.
It was a fragment of thin glass that Mr. Carter had picked up. He sniffedit and handed it to Tommy.
“Ethyl chloride,” he murmured. “Instant anaesthetic. But it only keepsone under for a moment or two. Surely he must still have been in theroom when you came to, Mrs. Van Snyder?”
“Isn’t that just what I’m telling you? Oh! it drove me half crazy to seehim getting away and me not able to move or do anything at all.”
“Getting away?” said Mr. Carter sharply. “Which way?”
“Through that door.” She pointed to one in the opposite wall. “He had agirl with him, but she seemed kind of limp as though she’d had a dose ofthe same dope.”
Carter looked a question at his henchman.
“Leads into the next suite, sir. But double doors—supposed to be boltedon each side.”
Mr. Carter examined the door carefully. Then he straightened himselfup and turned towards the bed.
“Mrs. Van Snyder,” he said quietly, “do you still persist in your assertionthat the man went out this way?”
“Why, certainly he did. Why shouldn’t he?”
“Because the door happens to be bolted on this side,” said Mr. Carterdryly. He rattled the handle as he spoke.
A look of the utmost astonishment spread over Mrs. Van Snyder’s face.
“Unless someone bolted the door behind him,” said Mr. Carter, “he can-not have gone out that way.”
He turned to Evans, who had just entered the room.
“Sure they’re not anywhere in this suite? Any other communicatingdoors?”
“No, sir, and I’m quite sure.”
Carter turned his gaze this way and that about the room. He opened thebig hanging wardrobe, looked under the bed, up the chimney and behindall the curtains. Finally, struck by a sudden idea, and disregarding Mrs.
Van Snyder’s shrill protests, he opened the large wardrobe trunk and rum-maged swiftly in the interior.
Suddenly Tommy, who had been examining the communicating door,gave an exclamation.
“Come here, sir, look at this. They did go this way.”
The bolt had been very cleverly filed through, so close to the socket thatthe join was hardly perceptible.
“The door won’t open because it’s locked on the other side,” explainedTommy.
In another minute they were out in the corridor again and the waiterwas opening the door of the adjoining suite with his pass key. This suitewas untenanted. When they came to the communicating door, they sawthat the same plan had been adopted. The bolt had been filed through, andthe door was locked, the key having been removed. But nowhere in thesuite was there any sign of Tuppence or the fair- bearded Russian andthere was no other communicating door, only the one on the corridor.
“But I’d have seen them come out,” protested the waiter. “I couldn’thave helped seeing them. I can take my oath they never did.”
“Damn it all,” cried Tommy. “They can’t have vanished into thin air!”
Carter was calm again now, his keen brain working.
“Telephone down and find out who had this suite last and when.”
Evans who had come with them, leaving Clydesly on guard in the othersuite, obeyed. Presently he raised his head from the telephone.
“An invalid French lad, M. Paul de Vareze. He had a hospital nurse withhim. They left this morning.”
An exclamation burst from the other Secret Service man, the waiter. Hehad gone deathly pale.
“The invalid boy—the hospital nurse,” he stammered. “I—they passedme in the passage. I never dreamed—I had seen them so often before.”
“Are you sure they were the same?” cried Mr. Carter. “Are you sure,man? You looked at them well?”
The man shook his head.
“I hardly glanced at them. I was waiting, you understand, on the alertfor the others, the man with the fair beard and the girl.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Carter, with a groan. “They counted on that.”
With a sudden exclamation, Tommy stooped down and pulled some-thing from under the sofa. It was a small rolled- up bundle of black.
Tommy unrolled it and several articles fell out. The outside wrapper wasthe long black coat Tuppence had worn that day. Inside was her walkingdress, her hat and a long fair beard.”
“It’s clear enough now,” he said bitterly. “They’ve got her — got Tup-pence. That Russian devil has given us the slip. The hospital nurse and theboy were accomplices. They stayed here for a day or two to get the hotelpeople accustomed to their presence. The man must have realised at lunchthat he was trapped and proceeded to carry out his plan. Probably hecounted on the room next door being empty since it was when he fixed thebolts. Anyway he managed to silence both the woman next door and Tup-pence, brought her in here, dressed her in boy’s clothes, altered his ownappearance, and walked out bold as brass. The clothes must have beenhidden ready. But I don’t quite see how he managed Tuppence’s acquies-cence.”
“I can see,” said Mr. Carter. He picked up a little shining piece of steelfrom the carpet. “That’s a fragment of a hypodermic needle. She wasdoped.”
“My God!” groaned Tommy. “And he’s got clear away.”
“We don’t know that,” said Carter quickly. “Remember every exit iswatched.”
“For a man and a girl. Not for a hospital nurse and an invalid boy.
They’ll have left the hotel by now.”
Such, on inquiry, proved to be the case. The nurse and her patient haddriven away in a taxi some five minutes earlier.
“Look here, Beresford,” said Mr. Carter, “for God’s sake pull yourself to-gether. You know that I won’t leave a stone unturned to find that girl. I’mgoing back to my office at once and in less than five minutes every re-source of the department will be at work. We’ll get them yet.”
“Will you, sir? He’s a clever devil, that Russian. Look at the cunning ofthis coup of his. But I know you’ll do your best. Only—pray God it’s not toolate. They’ve got it in for us badly.”
He left the Blitz Hotel and walked blindly along the street, hardly know-ing where he was going. He felt completely paralysed. Where to search?
What to do?
He went into the Green Park, and dropped down upon a seat. He hardlynoticed when someone else sat down at the opposite end, and was quitestartled to hear a well-known voice.
“If you please, sir, if I might make so bold—”
Tommy looked up.
“Hullo, Albert,” he said dully.
“I know all about it, sir—but don’t take on so.”
“Don’t take on—” He gave a short laugh. “Easily said, isn’t it?”
“Ah, but think, sir. Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives! Never beaten. And ifyou’ll excuse my saying so I happened to overhear what you and the Mis-sus was ragging about this morning. Mr. Poirot, and his little grey cells.
Well, sir, why not use your little grey cells, and see what you can do.”
“It’s easier to use your little grey cells in fiction than it is in fact, myboy.”
“Well,” said Albert stoutly, “I don’t believe anybody could put the Missusout, for good and all. You know what she is, sir, just like one of those rub-ber bones you buy for little dorgs—guaranteed indestructible.”
“Albert,” said Tommy, “you cheer me.”
“Then what about using your little grey cells, sir?”
“You’re a persistent lad, Albert. Playing the fool has served us prettywell up to now. We’ll try it again. Let us arrange our facts neatly, and withmethod. At ten minutes past two exactly, our quarry enters the lift. Fiveminutes later we speak to the lift man, and having heard what he says wealso go up to the third floor. At say, nineteen minutes past two we enterthe suite of Mrs. Van Snyder. And now, what significant fact strikes us?”
There was a pause, no significant fact striking either of them.
“There wasn’t such a thing as a trunk in the room, was there?” asked Al-bert, his eyes lighting suddenly.
“Mon ami,” said Tommy, “you do not understand the psychology of anAmerican woman who has just returned from Paris. There were, I shouldsay, about nineteen trunks in the room.”
“What I meantersay is, a trunk’s a handy thing if you’ve got a dead bodyabout you want to get rid of—not that she is dead, for a minute.”
“We searched the only two there were big enough to contain a body.
What is the next fact in chronological order?”
“You’ve missed one out—when the Missus and the bloke dressed up as ahospital nurse passed the waiter in the passage.”
“It must have been just before we came up in the lift,” said Tommy.
“They must have had a narrow escape of meeting us face to face. Prettyquick work, that. I—”
He stopped.
“What is it, sir?”
“Be silent, mon ami. I have the kind of little idea—colossal, stupendous—that always comes sooner or later to Hercule Poirot. But if so—if that’s it—Oh, Lord, I hope I’m in time.”
He raced out of the Park, Albert hard on his heels, inquiring breathlesslyas he ran, “What’s up, sir? I don’t understand.”
“That’s all right,” said Tommy. “You’re not supposed to. Hastings neverdid. If your grey cells weren’t of a very inferior order to mine, what fun doyou think I should get out of this game? I’m talking damned rot—but Ican’t help it. You’re a good lad, Albert. You know what Tuppence is worth—she’s worth a dozen of you and me.”
Thus talking breathlessly as he ran, Tommy reentered the portals of theBlitz. He caught sight of Evans, and drew him aside with a few hurriedwords. The two men entered the lift, Albert with them.
“Third floor,” said Tommy.
At the door of No. 318 they paused. Evans had a pass key, and used itforthwith. Without a word of warning, they walked straight into Mrs. VanSnyder’s bedroom. The lady was still lying on the bed, but was now ar-rayed in a becoming negligee. She stared at them in surprise.
“Pardon my failure to knock,” said Tommy pleasantly. “But I want mywife. Do you mind getting off that bed?”
“I guess you’ve gone plumb crazy,” cried Mrs. Van Snyder.
Tommy surveyed her thoughtfully, his head on one side.
“Very artistic,” he pronounced, “but it won’t do. We looked under thebed—but not in it. I remember using that hiding place myself when young.
Horizontally across the bed, underneath the bolster. And that nice ward-robe trunk all ready to take away the body in later. But we were a bit tooquick for you just now. You’d had time to dope Tuppence, put her underthe bolster, and be gagged and bound by your accomplices next door, andI’ll admit we swallowed your story all right for the moment. But when onecame to think it out—with order and method—impossible to drug a girl,dress her in boys’ clothes, gag and bind another woman, and change one’sown appearance—all in five minutes. Simply a physical impossibility. Thehospital nurse and the boy were to be a decoy. We were to follow thattrail, and Mrs. Van Snyder was to be pitied as a victim. Just help the ladyoff the bed, will you, Evans? You have your automatic? Good.”
Protesting shrilly, Mrs. Van Snyder was hauled from her place of repose.
Tommy tore off the coverings and the bolster.
There, lying horizontally across the top of the bed was Tuppence, hereyes closed, and her face waxen. For a moment Tommy felt a suddendread, then he saw the slight rise and fall of her breast. She was drugged—not dead.
He turned to Albert and Evans.
“And now, Messieurs,” he said dramatically, “the final coup!”
With a swift, unexpected gesture he seized Mrs. Van Snyder by her elab-orately dressed hair. It came off in his hand.
“As I thought,” said Tommy. “No. 16!”
第十七章 代号十六的男人（2）
2半个小时后，塔彭丝睁开眼睛，看到一位医生和汤米弯腰看着她。
接下来的一刻钟内，医生采取了一些必要的救护措施。然后，医生告辞并保证，现在没有问题了。
“啊，老朋友 [6] ，黑斯廷斯，”汤米怜惜地说，“我多高兴啊，你还活着！”
“我们抓到十六号了吗？”
“我再次像粉碎鸡蛋壳一样压碎了他——换句话，是卡特抓住了他，是小小的灰色脑细胞！顺便说一下，我给阿尔伯特涨了薪水。”
“给我说说。”
汤米向她生动地叙述了事情经过，当然有些地方被省略了。
“你不担心我吗？”塔彭丝虚弱地问。
“不太担心。一个人必须要沉着冷静，你知道。”
“撒谎！”塔彭丝说，“你现在看起来还很憔悴呢。”
“好吧，可能。我是有点担心，亲爱的，我说——我们现在要金盆洗手了，不是吗？”
“当然。”
汤米解脱似的叹了口气。
“我希望你能更敏感些，经过这次的打击——”
“这不是打击。你知道，我从来不在乎打击。”
“橡胶骨头——嚼不烂、打不垮。”汤米嘟囔着。
“我有更有趣的事情要做，”塔彭丝继续说，“更刺激的事情，我还从来没有做过。”
汤米看着她，一脸真实的恐惧。
“我不允许，塔彭丝。”
“这你可做不到，”塔彭丝说，“这是自然法则。”
“你在说什么，塔彭丝？”
“我说，”塔彭丝，“咱们的孩子。妻子们现在不用羞于启齿了，她们可以大声喊出来。
我们的孩子！汤米，一切是不是太奇妙了？”
[1]本故事中汤米夫妇模仿的侦探是赫尔克里•波洛。
[2]原文为法语。
[3]原文为法语。
[4]原文为法语。
[5]原文为法语。
[6]原文为法语。