Chapter 1 Mainly Concerning Books
Book I
Chapter 1 Mainly Concerning Books

‘Books!’ said Tuppence.
She produced the word rather with the effect of a bad-tempered explo-sion.
‘What did you say?’ said Tommy.
Tuppence looked across the room at him.
‘I said “books”,’ she said.
‘I see what you mean,’ said Thomas Beresford.
In front of Tuppence were three large packing cases. From each of themvarious books had been extracted. The larger part of them were still filledwith books.
‘It’s incredible,’ said Tuppence.
‘You mean the room they take up?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you trying to put them all on the shelves?’
‘I don’t know what I’m trying to do,’ said Tuppence. ‘That’s the awkwardpart of it. One doesn’t know ever, exactly, what one wants to do. Oh dear,’
she sighed.
‘Really,’ said her husband, ‘I should have thought that that was not at allcharacteristic of you. The trouble with you has always been that you knewmuch too well what you do want to do.’
‘What I mean is,’ said Tuppence, ‘that here we are, getting older, gettinga bit-well, let’s face it-definitely rheumatic, especially when one is stretch-ing; you know, stretching putting in books or lifting things down fromshelves or kneeling down to look at the bottom shelves for something,then finding it a bit difficult to get up again.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Tommy, ‘that’s an account of our general disabilities. Isthat what you started to say?’
‘No, it isn’t what I started to say. What I started to say was, it was lovelyto be able to buy a new home and find just the place we wanted to go andlive in, and just the house there we’d always dreamt of having-with a littlealteration, of course.’
‘Knocking one or two rooms into each other,’ said Tommy, ‘and addingto it what you call a veranda and your builder calls a lodger, though Iprefer to call it a loggia.’
‘And it’s going to be very nice,’ said Tuppence firmly.
‘When you’ve done it I shan’t know it! Is that the answer?’ said Tommy.
‘Not at all. All I said was that when you see it finished you’re going to bedelighted and say what an ingenious and clever and artistic wife youhave.’
‘All right,’ said Tommy. ‘I’ll remember the right thing to say.’
‘You won’t need to remember,’ said Tuppence. ‘It will burst upon you.’
‘What’s that got to do with books?’ said Tommy.
‘Well, we brought two or three cases of books with us. I mean, we soldoff the books we didn’t much care about. We brought the ones we reallycouldn’t bear to part with, and then, of course, the what-you-call-’ems-Ican’t remember their name now, but the people who were selling us thishouse-they didn’t want to take a lot of their own things with them, andthey said if we’d like to make an offer they would leave things includingbooks, and we came and looked at things-’
‘And we made some offers,’ said Tommy.
‘Yes. Not as many as they hoped we would make, I expect. Some of thefurniture and ornaments were too horrible. Well, fortunately we didn’thave to take those, but when I came and saw the various books-therewere some nursery ones, you know, some down in the sitting-room-andthere are one or two old favourites. I mean, there still are. There are oneor two of my own special favourites. And so I thought it’d be such fun tohave them. You know, the story of Androcles and the Lion,’ she said. ‘I re-member reading that when I was eight years old. Andrew Lang.’
‘Tell me, Tuppence, were you clever enough to read at eight years old?’
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘I read at five years old. Everybody could, when Iwas young. I didn’t know one even had to sort of learn. I mean, somebodywould read stories aloud, and you liked them very much and you re-membered where the book went back on the shelf and you were alwaysallowed to take it out and have a look at it yourself, and so you found youwere reading it too, without bothering to learn to spell or anything likethat. It wasn’t so good later,’ she said, ‘because I’ve never been able tospell very well. And if somebody had taught me to spell when I was aboutfour years old I can see it would have been very good indeed. My fatherdid teach me to do addition and subtraction and multiplication, of course,because he said the multiplication table was the most useful thing youcould learn in life, and I learnt long division too.’
‘What a clever man he must have been!’
‘I don’t think he was specially clever,’ said Tuppence, ‘but he was justvery, very nice.’
‘Aren’t we getting away from the point?’
‘Yes, we are,’ said Tuppence. ‘Well, as I said, when I thought of readingAndrocles and the Lion again-it came in a book of stories about animals, Ithink, by Andrew Lang-oh, I loved that. And there was a story about “aday in my life at Eton” by an Eton schoolboy. I can’t think why I wanted toread that, but I did. It was one of my favourite books. And there weresome stories from the classics, and there was Mrs Molesworth, The CuckooClock, Four Winds Farm-’
‘Well, that’s all right,’ said Tommy. ‘No need to give me a whole accountof your literary triumphs in early youth.’
‘What I mean is,’ said Tuppence, ‘that you can’t get them nowadays. Imean, sometimes you get reprints of them, but they’ve usually beenaltered and have different pictures in them. Really, the other day Icouldn’t recognize Alice in Wonderland when I saw it. Everything looks sopeculiar in it. There are the books I really could get still. Mrs Molesworth,one or two of the old fairy books- Pink, Blue and Yellow- and then, ofcourse, lots of later ones which I’d enjoyed. Lots of Stanley Weymans andthings like that. There are quite a lot here, left behind.’
‘All right,’ said Tommy. ‘You were tempted. You felt it was a good buy.’
‘Yes. At least-what d’you mean a “goodbye”?’
‘I mean b-u-y,’ said Tommy.
‘Oh. I thought you were going to leave the room and were saying good-bye to me.’
‘Not at all,’ said Tommy, ‘I was deeply interested. Anyway, it was a goodb-u-y.’
‘And I got them very cheap, as I tell you. And-and here they all areamong our own books and others. Only, we’ve got such a terrible lot nowof books, and the shelves we had made I don’t think are going to be nearlyenough. What about your special sanctum? Is there room there for morebooks?’
‘No, there isn’t,’ said Tommy. ‘There’s not going to be enough for myown.’
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Tuppence, ‘that’s so like us. Do you think wemight have to build on an extra room?’
‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘we’re going to economize. We said so the day beforeyesterday. Do you remember?’
‘That was the day before yesterday,’ said Tuppence. ‘Time alters. What Iam going to do now is put in these shelves all the books I really can’t bearto part with. And then-and then we can look at the others and-well, theremight be a children’s hospital somewhere and there might, anyway, beplaces which would like books.’
‘Or we could sell them,’ said Tommy.
‘I don’t suppose they’re the sort of books people would want to buy verymuch. I don’t think there are any books of rare value or anything likethat.’
‘You never know your luck,’ said Tommy. ‘Let’s hope something out ofprint will fulfil some bookseller’s long-felt want.’
‘In the meantime,’ said Tuppence, ‘we have to put them into the shelves,and look inside them, of course, each time to see whether it’s a book I doreally want and I can really remember. I’m trying to get them roughly-well, you know what I mean, sort of sorted. I mean, adventure stories,fairy stories, children’s stories and those stories about schools, where thechildren were always very rich- L. T. Meade, I think. And some of thebooks we used to read to Deborah when she was small, too. How we allused to love Winnie the Pooh. And there was The Little Grey Hen too, but Ididn’t care very much for that.’
‘I think you’re tiring yourself,’ said Tommy. ‘I think I should leave offwhat you’re doing now.’
‘Well, perhaps I will,’ said Tuppence, ‘but I think if I could just finish thisside of the room, just get the books in here…’
‘Well, I’ll help you,’ said Tommy.
He came over, tilted the case so that the books fell out, gathered up arm-fuls of them and went to the shelves and shoved them in.
‘I’m putting the same sized ones together, it looks neater,’ he said.
‘Oh, I don’t call that sorting,’ said Tuppence.
‘Sorting enough to get on with. We can do more of that later. You know,make everything really nice. We’ll sort it on some wet day when we can’tthink of anything else to do.’
‘The trouble is we always can think of something else to do.’
‘Well now, there’s another seven in there. Now then, there’s only thistop corner. Just bring me that wooden chair over there, will you? Are itslegs strong enough for me to stand on it? Then I can put some on the topshelf.’
With some care he climbed on the chair. Tuppence lifted up to him anarmful of books. He insinuated them with some care on to the top shelf.
Disaster only happened with the last three which cascaded to the floor,narrowly missing Tuppence.
‘Oh,’ said Tuppence, ‘that was painful.’
‘Well, I can’t help it. You handed me up too many at once.’
‘Oh well, that does look wonderful,’ said Tuppence, standing back alittle. ‘Now then, if you’ll just put these in the second shelf from the bot-tom, there’s a gap there, that will finish up this particular caseful anyway.
It’s a good thing too. These ones I’m doing this morning aren’t really ours,they’re the ones we bought. We may find treasures.’
‘We may,’ said Tommy.
‘I think we shall find treasures. I think I really shall find something.
Something that’s worth a lot of money, perhaps.’
‘What do we do then? Sell it?’
‘I expect we’ll have to sell it, yes,’ said Tuppence. ‘Of course we mightjust keep it and show it to people. You know, not exactly boasting, but justsay, you know: “Oh yes, we’ve got really one or two interesting finds.” Ithink we shall make an interesting find, too.’
‘What-one old favourite you’ve forgotten about?’
‘Not exactly that. I meant something startling, surprising. Somethingthat’ll make all the difference to our lives.’
‘Oh Tuppence,’ said Tommy, ‘what a wonderful mind you’ve got. Muchmore likely to find something that’s an absolute disaster.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Tuppence. ‘One must have hope. It’s the great thing youhave to have in life. Hope. Remember? I’m always full of hope.’
‘I know you are,’ said Tommy. He sighed. ‘I’ve often regretted it.’
一 关于书
第一部
一 关于书
“这么多书！”塔彭丝说。
她语气有点恼火。
“你说什么？”汤米说。
塔彭丝的视线越过房间看着他。
“我说‘这么多书’！”她说。
“我知道你的意思。”托马斯•贝尔斯福德说。
塔彭丝面前有三个大纸箱，每个箱子里的书都被抽出了一些，但箱子依然是满满的。
“真是难以置信。”塔彭丝说。
“没想到书这么占地方是吗？”
“是的。”
“你想把书全放上书架吗？”
“真不知道该拿这些书怎么办才好。”塔彭丝说，“不知道到底要做什么，这真是太别扭了！哦，天哪！”她长叹了一口气。
“说真的，”她丈夫说，“这太不像你了。你的缺点就是对下一步该做什么过于了然于胸。”
“我是说，”塔彭丝说，“我们总算来到了这里，但我们已经老了，已经——我们面对现实吧——已经有了风湿病。伸开手臂把书放上书架，把放在书架上层的东西拿下来，弯下腰在书架底层找东西，这对我们来说都是很困难的事情，很多时候一弯腰就站不起来了。”
“是的，是的，”汤米说，“我们的身体确实已经不行了。你想说的就是这个吗？”
“不，当然不是。我想说的是，能买到梦想中的房子、搬到想住的地方，真是太好了——尽管这里还需要稍作整修。”
“把几个房间打通，”汤米说，“在房间外面做个你所说的露台或装修工所说的阳台，不过我倒想把它称为凉廊。”
“那一定非常棒。”塔彭丝肯定地说。
“完工时你想给我个惊喜！是这样吗？”
“根本不是。见到它完工时，你只要知道自己有个天赋异禀、充满智慧和艺术细胞的妻子就行。”
“好，”汤米说，“我一定记住到时该说什么话。”
“不需要记住，”塔彭丝说，“你会脱口而出的。”
“这和书有什么关系？”汤米说。
“我们只带了两三箱书过来，把不怎么喜欢的书都卖掉了，只带来了一些不舍得扔掉的。但那家人——我忘了他们的名字，就是卖房子给我们的人——他们不想带走太多东西，希望我们给包括书籍在内的许多东西出个价。我就去看了——”
“于是你就买下了一些。”汤米说。
“是的，但没有预想得那么多。有些家具和装饰品太破了，幸好没买下它们。但那些书却非同一般——尤其是楼下客厅里的几本童话书——其中有几本特别好的老书，现在仍然极受欢迎。有一两本我特别喜欢，非常愿意拥有它们。我对安德鲁•朗的《安德罗克雷斯和狮子》印象特别深。”她说，“我八岁时读过那本书。”
“塔彭丝，你八岁时就会读书了吗？”
“是的。”塔彭丝说，“我五岁就开始看书了。那时候的孩子看书都早，好像人人都是无师自通的。我们让大人念书给我们听，要是特别喜欢，就会记住书放在书架的什么地方。
大人一不注意，我们就把书取下来，根本不学拼写，就这么看。但后来就不那么美妙了，”她说，“因为从来没有认真学习过拼写，所以很多字我都读不懂。如果四岁时能开始学拼写那该多好啊！不过爸爸教会了我加法、减法和乘法，爸爸说乘法表对将来很有用。
我还学会了除法。”
“你爸爸一定很聪明！”
“他并不特别聪明，”塔彭丝说，“不过是非常非常好的人。”
“我们是不是又扯远了？”
“是啊，”塔彭丝说，“就像我刚才说的，我很想再看一次《安德罗克雷斯和狮子》里的故事——那是本安德鲁•朗写的动物故事集——是我那时的至爱！当时还有一本伊顿公学的某个学生写的《我在伊顿的一天》，不知道这本书有什么吸引力，但我就是想看。这是我最喜欢看的书之一。另外还有些经典小说，比如说莫斯沃思夫人的《布谷鸟钟》以及《四面来风的农场》——”
“好了，好了。”汤米说，“不必把你小时候的阅读经历全都告诉我。”
“我是说，”塔彭丝说，“现在已经找不到这些书的原本了。修订本可以买到，可文字不同，插图也变了。总有一天我会连《爱丽丝漫游仙境》都不认识的，里面的内容变得那么奇怪。不过有的书我还是可以找到的，比如莫斯沃思夫人以前创作的几本神话故事——粉红色、蓝色和黄色封皮的那几本——当然，她最近出的几本我也很喜欢。还有斯坦莱•韦曼等人创作的作品。这里有不少，他们没带走。”
“我明白了，”汤米说，“你被它们吸引了，觉得这是笔好买卖。”
“是啊，但你说‘再见’ [1] 是什么意思啊？”
“我说的是‘好买卖’！”
“我还以为你想离开这儿，正和我说再见呢！”
“当然不是。”汤米说，“我很感兴趣。总而言之，这确实是笔好买卖。”
“如同我所说的那样，买下这些书没花多少钱。现在这些书和我们带来的书还有其他东西都混在一起了。书非常多，我们定做的书架不一定放得下。你的房间怎么样？还放得下书吗？”
“放不下，”汤米说，“连我自己的书都放不下了。”
“真扫兴，”塔彭丝说，“我们总是这样。再盖间房如何？”
“不行，”汤米说，“前天我们不是还说过要厉行节约吗？难道你都忘了吗？”
“那是前天的事了，”塔彭丝说，“时代在变。我想把舍不得丢掉的书全都放在书架上。
然后——然后再处理其他的书——也许有儿童医院之类的地方可以捐赠。总之，需要书的地方还真不少。”
“我们也可以卖掉它们。”汤米说。
“这些书不会有什么人想买。它们的价值并不高。”
“也许好运会降临！”汤米说，“如果里面有书商想收购的绝版书就好了。”
“现在，”塔彭丝说，“我们必须把这些书全放上架，同时顺便看一下是不是我真正需要或真正记得的书。我这就粗略地整理一下，把它们分分类。我的意思是，可以分为冒险故事、童话故事、儿童故事，以及一些学校的故事——比如米德写的那些富裕学生的故事。
黛波拉小时候我常给她读这类书。我和她都很喜欢《小熊维尼》。《灰色小母鸡》也不错，但我不太喜欢这类书。”
“你已经很累了，”汤米说，“应该休息一下。”
“或许是吧，”塔彭丝说，“不过我想把这儿的书都放好……”
“好，我来帮你。”汤米说。
汤米把箱子斜过来，倒出里面的书，然后抱起一摞书走近书架，把书塞进去。
“同样大小的书放在一起看起来比较齐整。”他说。
“这可不叫分类啊。”塔彭丝说。
“先将就一下，以后再仔细分，等没事干的下雨天再弄吧。”
“问题是我们总有其他事情要做。”
“好了，现在还剩七本。只有书架最上面那层的角落还有空间。把木凳给我拿来，好吗？我站上去它应该不会垮吧？我可以把这些书放进最上面一格的架子上。”
汤米慢慢地爬上椅子。塔彭丝把手里的书递给他。汤米把书小心翼翼地推进最上面的架子里，结果一不小心，最后三本书滑落下来，差点儿砸中塔彭丝。
“哦！”塔彭丝说，“那会很疼的！”
“哦，不是故意的，你一下子递给我这么多。”
“看上去确实不错，”塔彭丝退后两步说，“我们可以把这三本书放进从下往上数的第二层书架的空当处，这样就大功告成了。活儿干得不赖。这些书大部分不是我们带来的，而是这次买来的。也许会从中发现些宝贝。”
“也许吧。”汤米说。
“也许会发现宝贝，我觉得我们真会发现一些东西，或许是值一大笔钱的东西。”
“如果发现宝贝你又做何打算？卖掉？”
“希望能把它们卖掉，”塔彭丝说，“当然也可以拿去让大家见识一下。不是为了夸耀，只是对大伙说：‘瞧，我们找到了一两件十分有趣的东西。’我们准会发现些有趣东西的。”
“你是说过去曾经喜欢但现在已经遗忘的那些作品吗？”
“不。我说的是那种能让人吃惊，使我们的生活完全改变的东西。”
“塔彭丝，”汤米说，“你真是异想天开啊。别发现一些给我们带来灾难的东西才好。”
“真是胡说八道。”塔彭丝说，“人必须怀有希望，这对人生非常重要。你我一定要满怀希望才对！我相信我们一定会有所发现。”
“不抱希望就不是你了。”汤米叹了口气说，“我却常常觉得后悔。”
[1]英文中，“好买卖”（good buy）和“再见”（goodbye）发音相近。
Chapter 2 The Black Arrow
Chapter 2 The Black Arrow

Mrs Thomas Beresford replaced The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs Molesworth,choosing a vacant place on the third shelf from the bottom. The MrsMolesworths were congregated here together. Tuppence drew out TheTapestry Room and held it thoughtfully in her fingers. Or she might readFour Winds Farm. She couldn’t remember Four Winds Farm as well as shecould remember The Cuckoo Clock and The Tapestry Room. Her fingerswandered…Tommy would be back soon.
She was getting on. Yes, surely she was getting on. If only she didn’t stopand pull out old favourites and read them. Very agreeable but it took a lotof time. And when Tommy asked her in the evening when he came homehow things were going and she said, ‘Oh very well now,’ she had to em-ploy a great deal of tact and finesse to prevent him from going upstairsand having a real look at how the bookshelves were progressing. It alltook a long time. Getting into a house always took a long time, muchlonger than one thought. And so many irritating people. Electricians, forinstance, who came and appeared to be displeased with what they haddone the last time they came and took up more large areas in the floorand, with cheerful faces, produced more pitfalls for the unwary housewifeto walk along and put a foot wrong and be rescued just in time by the un-seen electrician who was groping beneath the floor.
‘Sometimes,’ said Tuppence, ‘I really wish we hadn’t left Bartons Acre.’
‘Remember the dining-room,’ Tommy had said, ‘and remember those at-tics, and remember what happened to the garage. Nearly wrecked the car,you know it did.’
‘I suppose we could have had it patched up,’ said Tuppence.
‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘we’d have had to practically replace the damagedbuilding, or else we had to move. This is going to be a very nice housesome day. I’m quite sure of that. Anyway, there’s going to be room in it forall the things we want to do.’
‘When you say the things we want to do,’ Tuppence had said, ‘you meanthe things we want to find places for and to keep.’
‘I know,’ said Tommy. ‘One keeps far too much. I couldn’t agree withyou more.’
At that moment Tuppence considered something- whether they everwere going to do anything with this house, that is to say, beyond gettinginto it. It sounded simple but had turned out complex. Partly, of course, allthese books.
‘If I’d been a nice ordinary child of nowadays,’ said Tuppence, ‘Iwouldn’t have learned to read so easily when I was young. Childrennowadays who are four, or five, or six, don’t seem to be able to read whenthey get to ten or eleven. I can’t think why it was so easy for all of us. Wecould all read. Me and Martin next door and Jennifer down the road andCyril and Winifred. All of us. I don’t mean we could all spell very well butwe could read anything we wanted to. I don’t know how we learnt. Askingpeople, I suppose. Things about posters and Carter’s Little Liver Pills. Weused to read all about them in the fields when trains got near London. Itwas very exciting. I always wondered what they were. Oh dear, I mustthink of what I’m doing.’
She removed some more books. Three-quarters of an hour passed withher absorbed first in Alice Through the Looking-Glass, then with CharlotteYonge’s Unknown to History. Her hands lingered over the fat shabbiness ofThe Daisy Chain.
‘Oh, I must read that again,’ said Tuppence. ‘To think of the years andyears and years it is since I did read it. Oh dear, how exciting it was, won-dering, you know, whether Norman was going to be allowed to be con-firmed or not. And Ethel and-what was the name of the place? Coxwell orsomething like-and Flora who was worldly. I wonder why everyone was“worldly” in those days, and how poorly it was thought of, being worldly. Iwonder what we are now. Do you think we’re all worldly or not?’
‘I beg yer pardon, ma’am?’
‘Oh nothing,’ said Tuppence, looking round at her devoted henchman,Albert, who had just appeared in the doorway.
‘I thought you called for something, madam. And you rang the bell,didn’t you?’
‘Not really,’ said Tuppence. ‘I just leant on it getting up on a chair to takea book out.’
‘Is there anything I can take down for you?’
‘Well, I wish you would,’ said Tuppence. ‘I’m falling off those chairs.
Some of their legs are very wobbly, some of them rather slippery.’
‘Any book in particular?’
‘Well, I haven’t got on very far with the third shelf up. Two shelvesdown from the top, you know. I don’t know what books are there.’
Albert mounted on a chair and banging each book in turn to dislodgesuch dust as it had managed to gather on it, handed things down. Tup-pence received them with a good deal of rapture.
‘Oh, fancy! All these. I really have forgotten a lot of these. Oh, here’s TheAmulet and here’s The Psamayad. Here’s The New Treasure Seekers. Oh, Ilove all those. No, don’t put them in shelves yet, Albert. I think I’ll have toread them first. Well, I mean, one or two of them first, perhaps. Now,what’s this one? Let me see. The Red Cockade. Oh yes, that was one of thehistorical ones. That was very exciting. And there’s Under the Red Robe,too. Lots of Stanley Weyman. Lots and lots. Of course I used to read thosewhen I was about ten or eleven. I shouldn’t be surprised if I don’t comeacross The Prisoner of Zenda.’ She sighed with enormous pleasure at the re-membrance. ‘The Prisoner of Zenda. One’s first introduction, really, to theromantic novel. The romance of Princess Flavia. The King of Ruritania.
Rudolph Rassendyll, some name like that, whom one dreamt of at night.’
Albert handed down another selection.
‘Oh yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘That’s better, really. That’s earlier again. I mustput the early ones all together. Now, let me see. What have we got here?
Treasure Island. Well, that’s nice but of course I have read Treasure Islandagain, and I’ve seen, I think, two films of it. I don’t like seeing it on films, itnever seems right. Oh-and here’s Kidnapped. Yes, I always liked that.’
Albert stretched up, overdid his armful, and Catriona fell more or lesson Tuppence’s head.
‘Oh, sorry, madam. Very sorry.’
‘It’s quite all right,’ said Tuppence, ‘it doesn’t matter. Catriona. Yes. Anymore Stevensons up there?’
Albert handed the books down now more gingerly. Tuppence uttered acry of excessive delight.
‘The Black Arrow I declare! The Black Arrow! Now that’s one of the firstbooks really I ever got hold of and read. Yes. I don’t suppose you ever did,Albert. I mean, you wouldn’t have been born, would you? Now let methink. Let me think. The Black Arrow. Yes, of course, it was that picture onthe wall with eyes-real eyes-looking through the eyes of the picture. Itwas splendid. So frightening, just that. Oh yes. The Black Arrow. What wasit? It was all about-oh yes, the cat, the dog? No. The cat, the rat, and Lovell,the dog, Rule all England under the hog. That’s it. The hog was Richard theThird, of course. Though nowadays they all write books saying he wasreally wonderful. Not a villain at all. But I don’t believe that. Shakespearedidn’t either. After all, he started his play by making Richard say: “I am de-termined so to prove a villain.” Ah yes. The Black Arrow.’
‘Some more, madam?’
‘No, thank you, Albert. I think I’m rather too tired to go on now.’
‘That’s all right. By the way, the master rang and said he’d be half anhour late.’
‘Never mind,’ said Tuppence.
She sat down in the chair, took The Black Arrow, opened the pages andengrossed herself.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, ‘how wonderful this is. I’ve really forgotten it quiteenough to enjoy reading it all over again. It was so exciting.’
Silence fell. Albert returned to the kitchen. Tuppence leaned back in thechair. Time passed. Curled up in the rather shabby armchair, Mrs ThomasBeresford sought the joys of the past by applying herself to the perusal ofRobert Louis Stevenson’s The Black Arrow.
In the kitchen time also passed. Albert applied himself to the variousmanoeuvres with the stove. A car drove up. Albert went to the side door.
‘Shall I put it in the garage, sir?’
‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘I’ll do that. I expect you’re busy with dinner. Am Ivery late?’
‘Not really, sir, just about when you said. A little early, in fact.’
‘Oh.’ Tommy disposed of the car and then came into the kitchen, rub-bing his hands. ‘Cold out. Where’s Tuppence?’
‘Oh, missus, she’s upstairs with the books.’
‘What, still those miserable books?’
‘Yes. She’s done a good many more today and she’s spent most of thetime reading.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tommy. ‘All right, Albert. What are we having?’
‘Fillets of lemon sole, sir. It won’t take long to do.’
‘All right. Well, make it about quarter of an hour or so anyway. I want towash first.’
Upstairs, on the top floor Tuppence was still sitting in the somewhatshabby armchair, engrossed in The Black Arrow. Her forehead was slightlywrinkled. She had come across what seemed to her a somewhat curiousphenomenon. There seemed to be what she could only call a kind of inter-ference. The particular page she had got to-she gave it a brief glance, 64 orwas it 65? She couldn’t see-anyway, apparently somebody had underlinedsome of the words on the page. Tuppence had spent the last quarter of anhour studying this phenomenon. She didn’t see why the words had beenunderlined. They were not in sequence, they were not a quotation, there-fore, in the book. They seemed to be words that had been singled out andhad then been underlined in red ink. She read under her breath:
‘Matcham could not restrain a little cry. Dick started with surprise anddropped the windac from his fingers. They were all afoot, loosing swordand dagger in the sheath. Ellis held up his hand. The white of his eyesshone. Let, large-’ Tuppence shook her head. It didn’t make sense. None ofit did.
She went over to the table where she kept her writing things, picked outa few sheets recently sent by a firm of note-paper printers for the Beres-fords to make a choice of the paper to be stamped with their new address:
The Laurels.
‘Silly name,’ said Tuppence, ‘but if you go changing names all the time,then all your letters go astray.’
She copied things down. Now she realized something she hadn’t real-ized before.
‘That makes all the difference,’ said Tuppence.
She traced letters on the page.
‘So there you are,’ said Tommy’s voice, suddenly. ‘Dinner’s practicallyin. How are the books going?’
‘This lot’s terribly puzzling,’ said Tuppence. ‘Dreadfully puzzling.’
‘What’s puzzling?’
‘Well, this is The Black Arrow of Stevenson’s and I wanted to read itagain and I began. It was all right, and then suddenly-all the pages wererather queer because I mean a lot of the words had been underlined inred ink.’
‘Oh well, one does that,’ said Tommy. ‘I don’t mean solely in red ink, butI mean one does underline things. You know, something you want to re-member, or a quotation of something. Well, you know what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Tuppence, ‘but it doesn’t go like that. Andit’s letters, you see.’
‘What do you mean by letters?’
‘Come here,’ said Tuppence.
Tommy came and sat on the arm of the chair. Tommy read: ‘“Matchamcould not restrain a little cry and even died starter started with surpriseand dropped the window from his fingers the two big fellows on the-something I can’t read-shell was an expected signal. They were all afoottogether tightening loosing sword and dagger.” It’s mad,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘that’s what I thought at first. It was mad. But itisn’t mad, Tommy.’
Some cowbells rang from downstairs.
‘That’s supper in.’
‘Never mind,’ said Tuppence, ‘I’ve got to tell you this first. We can getdown to things about it later but it’s really so extraordinary. I’ve got to tellyou this straight away.’
‘Oh, all right. Have you got one of your mare’s nests?
‘No, I haven’t. It’s just that I took out the letters, you see. Well-on thispage, you see, well-the M of “Matcham” which is the first word, the M isunderlined and the A and after that there are three more, three or fourmore words. They don’t come in sequence in the book. They’ve just beenpicked out, I think, and they’ve been underlined-the letters in them-be-cause they wanted the right letters and the next one, you see, is the R from“restrain” underlined and the Y of “cry”, and then there’s J from “Jack”, Ofrom “shot”, R from “ruin”, D from “death” and A from “death” again, Nfrom “murrain”-’
‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Tommy, ‘do stop.’
‘Wait,’ said Tuppence. ‘I’ve got to find out. Now you see because I’vewritten out these, do you see what this is? I mean if you take those lettersout and write them in order on this piece of paper, do you see what youget with the ones I’ve done first? M-A-R-Y. Those four were underlined.’
‘What does that make?’
‘It makes Mary.’
‘All right,’ said Tommy, ‘it makes Mary. Somebody called Mary. A childwith an inventive nature, I expect, who is trying to point out that this washer book. People are always writing their names in books and things likethat.’
‘All right. Mary,’ said Tuppence. ‘And the next thing that comes under-lined makes the word J-o-r-d-a-n.’
‘You see? Mary Jordan,’ said Tommy. ‘It’s quite natural. Now you knowher whole name. Her name was Mary Jordan.’
‘Well, this book didn’t belong to her. In the beginning it says in a rathersilly, childish-looking writing, it says “Alexander”, Alexander Parkinson, Ithink.’
‘Oh well. Does it really matter?’
‘Of course it matters,’ said Tuppence.
‘Come on, I’m hungry,’ said Tommy.
‘Restrain yourself,’ said Tuppence, ‘I’m only going to read you the nextbit until the writing stops-or at any rate stops in the next four pages. Theletters are picked from odd places on various pages. They don’t run in se-quence-there can’t be anything in the words that matters-it’s just the let-ters. Now then. We’ve got M-a-r-y J-o-r-d-a-n. That’s right. Now do youknow what the next four words are? D-i-d n-o-t, not, d-i-e n-a-t-u-r-a-l-y.
That’s meant to be “naturally”, but they didn’t know it had two “l s”. Nowthen, what’s that? Mary Jordan did not die naturally. There you are,’ saidTuppence. ‘Now the next sentence made is: It was one of us. I think I knowwhich one. That’s all. Can’t find anything else. But it is rather exciting, isn’tit?’
‘Look here, Tuppence,’ said Tommy, ‘you’re not going to get a thingabout this, are you?’
‘What do you mean, a thing, about this?’
‘Well, I mean working up a sort of mystery.’
‘Well, it’s a mystery to me,’ said Tuppence. ‘Mary Jordan did not die nat-urally. It was one of us. I think I know which. Oh, Tommy, you must say thatit is very intriguing.’
二 黑箭
二 黑箭
托马斯•贝尔斯福德夫人把莫斯沃思夫人的《布谷鸟钟》移到书架第三层的空当处。莫斯沃思夫人的作品终于集中在了一起。塔彭丝抽出《织锦挂毯的房间》，若有所思地拿在手上。她似乎读过《四面来风的农场》，但记得不像《布谷鸟钟》和《织锦挂毯的房间》
那样清楚。她不断地翻动着书页……汤米就快回来了。
整理进行得很顺利，不错，确实非常顺利。塔彭丝必须时时克制着冲动，不把喜欢的书抽出来再读一遍。整理图书相当快乐，但也很花时间。汤米晚上回来，问到整理的进度。塔彭丝回答说：“哦，进展顺利。”她找了很多借口、用了各种手段，阻止汤米上楼查看书架整理的情况。整理新家是件费时费力的事情，比预想得要麻烦许多，常常会碰上些让人生气的事情。比如说，电工常会对上次干的活不太满意。他们往往会占据一大块地面，心满意足地铺下许多绳子电线，心不在焉的主妇一个不小心就会被绊倒。这时就要靠地板下面摸索着干活的电工师傅出手相救了。
“有时我真希望我们没有离开巴敦斯农庄。”塔彭丝说。
“那里的餐厅已经破败不堪，”汤米说，“阁楼也不像样了。车库更是没法说，汽车都差点被这样的车库搞坏了。”
“请人装修一下不就行了？”塔彭丝说。
“不，”汤米说，“必须彻底改建，不然只能搬走。这里的新房子总有一天会住得很舒服，对此我深信不疑。总之，这里能达成我们的所有愿望。”
“你所说的愿望是指有足够的地方给我们放东西吧？”塔彭丝问。
“是的，”汤米说，“我们的东西太多了。我非常同意你的看法。”
这时，塔彭丝心想，除了入住以外，这幢房子对他们还有什么用呢？事情听起来简单，其实却相当复杂。部分的原因就在于这些书。
“如果我是个现在的小孩子，”塔彭丝说，“很可能就不能像小时候那样轻易地学会阅读了。现在四到六岁的孩子根本不识字，十岁和十一岁的孩子也不会阅读。我不知道当时对我们来说为什么那么容易，我们都会阅读。我，还有隔壁的马丁、马路对面的珍尼弗•西莉尔以及温尼弗雷德几乎都能看书。所有人都会。尽管拼写水平不高，但想看的都看得懂。
我记不得当初是如何学会的了。我想可能是问人。我们对海报和药瓶上的字都非常感兴趣。火车开近伦敦时，我会把田边的广告一一读出来，真是让人兴奋。我常常在琢磨那到底是什么。哦好了，我还是赶快整理书吧。”
她又移了几本书。接着，她花了整整三刻钟阅读《镜国里的爱丽丝》，然后又被夏洛特•杨格的《历史内幕》吸引了一会儿，接着拿起又厚又破的《雏菊花环》。
“哦，我一定要再看一遍，”塔彭丝说，“我看过一遍，但那已经是很多年前了。啊，读来心里真是怦怦乱跳。诺尔曼会接受坚信礼吗？艾塞尔的命运又会如何——那个地方叫什么来着？应该是类似考克斯韦尔之类的——还有那个世故的弗洛拉。我不知道那时为什么人人都那么俗气。被人觉得俗气真是太可怜了。我们现在又是如何？你觉得现在的我们俗不俗气？”
“夫人，你在说什么？”
“没什么。”塔彭丝回头看见了出现在门口的管家阿尔伯特。
“夫人，我以为你有什么事情找我呢。你是不是按铃了呀？”
“我没想按铃。只是在爬梯子取书时碰到了铃而已。”
“要我帮你拿吗？”
“那就麻烦你了。这些椅子都快坏了，有的摇摇晃晃，有的又太滑。”
“您想要哪本书？”
“第三层架子上面的几层还没有好好查过。对，我说的就是顶上的那两层。我真不知道那里放了些什么。”
阿尔伯特爬上椅子，依次拍掉每本书上的灰尘，然后再递给塔彭丝。塔彭丝欢喜地把这些书接了下来。
“真是太棒了。我真是忘了还有这么多书。这是《护身符》！这是《萨玛尔德》！这是《新寻宝人》。全都是我喜欢的书。阿尔伯特，先别把它们放上书架。我想先看一眼。我是说，我想先看看其中的一两本。哎，那本是什么？哦，是《红帽徽》。这种历史读物很不错，一定非常有趣。这里还有本《长袍之下》。都是些斯坦利•韦曼的书。这些书我大都在十岁出头的时候就读过了。没有那本《古堡藏龙》也不足为怪。”她沉浸在回忆的喜悦中，重重地叹了口气，“《古堡藏龙》是我的爱情小说启蒙书，说的是弗拉维亚公主和鲁里塔尼亚国王的罗曼史。国王好像叫鲁道夫•拉森迪什么的，是每个少女梦想的白马王子。”
阿尔伯特又递给她一本。
“这本更有趣。”塔彭丝说，“年代也更为久远。应该把这些书按年代放在一起。还有什么？哦，这是本《金银岛》。不错的故事，我已经重读过一遍了。我还看过两部改编的电影。我不喜欢改编的电影，看起来怪怪的！太好了，还有本《绑架》，我以前很喜欢这本书。”
阿尔伯特伸出手，一下子拿了好几本书，《卡特里奥娜》不偏不倚正砸在塔彭丝的头顶。
“对不起。夫人，真对不起。”
“没事，是本《卡特里奥娜》，”塔彭丝说，“帮我看看架子上还有没有史蒂文森别的什么书？”
阿尔伯特的动作小心多了。塔彭丝则高兴得叫了起来。
“是《黑箭》！这里竟有本《黑箭》。那是我最先拥有并且读过的几本书之一。阿尔伯特，你一定不知道这本书，那时你还没出生呢！让我想想，让我好好想想《黑箭》讲了些什么。哦，我想起来了，有双眼睛从挂在墙上的画中往外看——是双真的眼睛，透过画面向外看。非常有想象力，也非常吓人。《黑箭》讲了个什么样的故事？是狗还是猫？不，都不是。在书中，猫、老鼠，以及一条叫洛威尔的狗在猪的带领下统治了英国。猪当然是指理查三世。所有书都把理查三世说成是非常了不起的人，可我不相信。我连莎士比亚也信不过，他竟然在戏的开头就让理查说：‘我要做个恶棍。’啊，对，这就是《黑箭》的内容。”
“夫人，您还要书吗？”
“不用了。阿尔伯特。我已经很累了。”
“好的。对了，老爷打电话来，说他要晚半小时回家。”
“我知道了。”塔彭丝说。
她坐到椅子上，拿起《黑箭》专心地读了起来。
“真是好看，”塔彭丝说，“基本全忘光了，是得再看一遍。这本书非常有趣。”
书房里恢复了宁静。阿尔伯特回到厨房。塔彭丝靠在椅子上读书。时间过得飞快，托马斯•贝尔斯福德夫人蜷缩在已经用旧的安乐椅里追寻着往昔的喜悦，如数家珍地阅读着罗伯特•路易斯•史蒂文森的《黑箭》。
几乎与此同时，阿尔伯特在厨房的炉灶上做了许多菜肴。一辆汽车开了过来，阿尔伯特走向边门。
“先生，要我替您开进车库吗？”
“不用，”汤米说，“我自己开，你去忙晚餐吧！我回来得太晚了吗？”
“没晚，和电话里说得一样。其实还早了点。”
“是这样啊，”汤米停好车，搓着手走进厨房，“外面很冷。塔彭丝在哪儿？”
“夫人在楼上整理书。”
“什么？还在弄那些发霉的书？”
“是的。今天理了不少，不过她大部分时间都在看书。”
“真是麻烦，”汤米说，“算了，阿尔伯特。晚餐吃什么？”
“柠檬鱼片，马上就好。”
“知道了，十五分钟后开饭，我先去洗手。”
塔彭丝依然坐在楼上的旧安乐椅里读《黑箭》，眉头微微皱起。她刚遇到了一种似乎只能称为干扰的奇怪现象。在看过的一页上——不是第六十四页就是第六十五页，她把页码给忘了——有人在上面画了线。塔彭丝花了十五分钟研究这个现象。她不明白为什么有人会在这些字下面画线。它们既相互不关联，也不是引用词。似乎只是用红墨水在随便挑的一些词下面画了线。塔彭丝轻声念道：“马查姆不由得发出低吼。迪克吓了一跳，酒杯从指尖掉了下来。他们站起身，拔出剑和匕首。埃利斯举起手，眼睛又大又亮——”塔彭丝摇摇头。语意不通，完全不通。
她走到放着书写用具的书桌旁边，取了几张印刷公司送来让他们选样并印有新地址“月桂山庄”的便条纸。
“愚蠢的名字，”塔彭丝说，“但要是把名字改掉，信又投不过来了。”
她把涂有红线的地方抄在便条纸上，意识到自己之前没注意到的一些事。
“这样就有意思了。”塔彭丝说。
她的手指沿着便条纸上的字往后推。
“你果然在这儿，”突然出现了汤米的声音，“快吃饭了。书整理得怎么样了？”
“这本书很奇怪，”塔彭丝说，“我完全弄不懂。”
“怎么奇怪了？”
“我想再看一遍史蒂文森的这本《黑箭》，于是便拿起来看了。起初一切都很正常，但看了不久之后，字里行间突然有几分不对。你看，这些字的下面都用红墨水画上了线。”
“的确有人喜欢在字下画线。未必都用的是红墨水，但常有人在书上画线。人们常常在想让自己记住或引用的地方画线。你应该明白我的意思。”
“我知道你的意思，”塔彭丝说，“但这跟那不是一回事，你看这些字母。”
“你是说在特定的字母下面画线吗？”汤米问。
“你快过来。”塔彭丝说。
汤米走过来坐在椅子扶手上，然后对着书念道：“‘马查姆不由得发出低吼。连刚死的人都被他惊醒了，以枪声为记。’都是些什么啊！‘两个巨人从窗户上摔了下来。他们站起身，拔出剑和匕首。’简直太疯狂了。”
“是的，”塔彭丝说，“我首先想到的也是疯狂。但汤米，细想起来里面却有一定的逻辑。”
楼下传来一阵铃声。
“吃晚饭去吧。”
“先别急，”塔彭丝说，“我必须在饭前把这件事告诉你。虽然饭后说也可以，但这件事真的很怪。不马上告诉你我就不舒服。”
“好啊。你发现了什么？”
“没什么发现，只是找到了一些词。比如说这一页——马查姆的第一个字母M下面画了线。接着是这个A字母，后面还有两三个字母。这些词本身没什么关系，我觉得只是随手挑的——画线人在意的是这些字母——他似乎在寻找合适的字母并将它们排序。在前面的M和A之后，是‘压抑’这个词里的R，‘喊叫’中的Y、‘杰克’中的J、‘射击’中的O、‘破灭’中的R、‘死亡’中的D，接着是‘死亡’中的A和‘瘟疫’中的N——”
“天哪，快停！”汤米说。
“等一下，”塔彭丝说，“答案马上就出来了。把它们抄下来，你就一定能看懂。我是说，如果把这些字母挑出来依次写在纸上，你就会看明白意思的。看到我最先抄下的四个字母了吗？对的，M－a－r－y。这四个字母下面都画了线。”
“这又怎么样？”
“这不是玛丽吗？”
“是的，”汤米说，“的确拼成了玛丽。很多人叫玛丽。一个叫玛丽的聪明孩子想表示自己对这本书的所有权。人们喜欢用各种各样的方式把自己的名字显示在书上。”
“你总算承认了，这些字母有其意义，”塔彭丝说，“再往下看，后面几个画线的字母是J－o－r－d－a－n。”
“是玛丽•乔丹，”汤米说，“这下连全名都知道了。拥有这本书的孩子名叫玛丽•乔丹。”
“这本书不是她的！书的扉页上有人以歪歪扭扭的童体字写了‘亚历山大’这几个字。我想应该是亚历山大•帕金森。”
“这很重要吗？”
“一定很重要。”
“走吧，我饿了。”汤米说。
“等一等，”塔彭丝说，“我给你再读一点就结束了——还有四页。这些字母是从不同页面的不同地方分别选出来的。这些词本身并没有任何关联——词语本身并不代表任何意义——有意义的是这些字母。现在我们已经找到了M－a－r－y和J－o－r－d—a－n。这还不算什么。知道接下来组成的四个词是什么吗？d－i—d n－o－t d－i—e n-a－t—u—r－a－l－y。最后一个词是“自然”，只是少了个‘l’。好了，这下你看出这些字母的意思了吧？‘玛丽•乔丹并非自然死亡’。接下来的文字是，‘凶手是我们之中的一个，我知道是谁。’就这句话，再没有多余的了。但已经够让人兴奋了，你说是吗？”
“塔彭丝，你可不能断章取义啊！”汤米说。
“你这是什么意思？我怎么成了断章取义了呢？”
“我说你凭空捏造了一件疑案。”
“对我来说的确是件疑案，”塔彭丝说，“‘玛丽•乔丹并非自然死亡。凶手是我们之中的一个，我知道是谁。’汤米，这难道不是很诡异吗？”