One ON EARLY RISING
One ON EARLY RISING

That amiable youth, Jimmy Thesiger, came racing down the big staircaseat Chimneys two steps at a time. So precipitate was his descent that he col-lided with Tredwell, the stately butler, just as the latter was crossing thehall bearing a fresh supply of hot coffee. Owing to the marvellous pres-ence of mind and masterly agility of Tredwell, no casualty occurred.
“Sorry,” apologized Jimmy. “I say, Tredwell, am I the last down?”
“No, sir. Mr. Wade has not come down yet.”
“Good,” said Jimmy, and entered the breakfast room.
The room was empty save for his hostess, and her reproachful gaze gaveJimmy the same feeling of discomfort he always experienced on catchingthe eye of a defunct codfish exposed on a fisherman’s slab. Yet, hang it all,why should the woman look at him like that? To come down at a punctualnine thirty when staying in a country house simply wasn’t done. To besure, it was now a quarter past eleven which was, perhaps, the outsidelimit, but even then—
“Afraid I’m a bit late, Lady Coote. What?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” said Lady Coote in a melancholy voice.
As a matter of fact, people being late for breakfast worried her verymuch. For the first ten years of her married life, Sir Oswald Coote (thenplain Mr.) had, to put it badly, raised hell if his morning meal were even ahalf minute later than eight o’clock. Lady Coote had been disciplined to re-gard unpunctuality as a deadly sin of the most unpardonable nature. Andhabit dies hard. Also, she was an earnest woman, and she could not helpasking herself what possible good these young people would ever do in theworld without early rising. As Sir Oswald so often said, to reporters andothers: “I attribute my success entirely to my habits of early rising, frugalliving, and methodical habits.”
Lady Coote was a big, handsome woman in a tragic sort of fashion. Shehad large, mournful eyes and a deep voice. An artist looking for a modelfor “Rachel mourning for her children” would have hailed Lady Cootewith delight. She would have done well, too, in melodrama, staggeringthrough the falling snow as the deeply wronged wife of the villain.
She looked as though she had some terrible secret sorrow in her life,and yet if the truth be told, Lady Coote had had no trouble in her lifewhatever, except the meteoric rise to prosperity of Sir Oswald. As a younggirl she had been a jolly flamboyant creature, very much in love with Os-wald Coote, the aspiring young man in the bicycle shop next to herfather’s hardware store. They had lived very happily, first in a couple ofrooms, and then in a tiny house, and then in a larger house, and then insuccessive houses of increasing magnitude, but always within a reason-able distance of “the Works,” until now Sir Oswald had reached such aneminence that he and “the Works” were no longer interdependent, and itwas his pleasure to rent the very largest and most magnificent mansionsavailable all over England. Chimneys was a historic place, and in renting itfrom the Marquis of Caterham for two years, Sir Oswald felt that he hadattained the top notch of his ambition.
Lady Coote was not nearly so happy about it. She was a lonely woman.
The principal relaxation of her early married life had been talking to “thegirl”—and even when “the girl” had been multiplied by three, conversa-tion with her domestic staff had still been the principal distraction of LadyCoote’s day. Now, with a pack of housemaids, a butler like an archbishop,several footmen of imposing proportions, a bevy of scuttling kitchen andscullery maids, a terrifying foreign chef with a “temperament,” and ahousekeeper of immense proportions who alternately creaked and rustledwhen she moved, Lady Coote was as one marooned on a desert island.
She sighed now, heavily, and drifted out through the open window,much to the relief of Jimmy Thesiger, who at once helped himself to morekidneys and bacon on the strength of it.
Lady Coote stood for a few moments tragically on the terrace and thennerved herself to speak to MacDonald, the head gardener, who was sur-veying the domain over which he ruled with an autocratic eye. MacDon-ald was a very chief and prince among head gardeners. He knew his place—which was to rule. And he ruled—despotically.
Lady Coote approached him nervously.
“Good morning, MacDonald.”
“Good morning, m’lady.”
He spoke as head gardeners should speak—mournfully, but with dignity—like an emperor at a funeral.
“I was wondering—could we have some of those late grapes for desserttonight?”
“They’re no fit for picking yet,” said MacDonald.
He spoke kindly but firmly.
“Oh!” said Lady Coote.
She plucked up courage.
“Oh! but I was in the end house yesterday, and I tasted one and theyseemed very good.”
MacDonald looked at her, and she blushed. She was made to feel thatshe had taken an unpardonable liberty. Evidently the late Marchioness ofCaterham had never committed such a solecism as to enter one of her ownhothouses and help herself to grapes.
“If you had given orders, m’lady, a bunch should have been cut and sentin to you,” said MacDonald severely.
“Oh, thank you,” said Lady Coote. “Yes, I will do that another time.”
“But they’re no properly fit for picking yet.”
“No,” murmured Lady Coote, “no, I suppose not. We’d better leave itthen.”
MacDonald maintained a masterly silence. Lady Coote nerved herselfonce more.
“I was going to speak to you about the piece of lawn at the back of therose garden. I wondered if it could be used as a bowling green. Sir Oswaldis very fond of a game of bowls.”
“And why not?” thought Lady Coote to herself. She had been instructedin her history of England. Had not Sir Francis Drake and his knightly com-panions been playing a game of bowls when the Armada was sighted?
Surely a gentlemanly pursuit and one to which MacDonald could not reas-onably object. But she had reckoned without the predominant trait of agood head gardener, which is to oppose any and every suggestion made tohim.
“Nae doot it could be used for that purpose,” said MacDonald noncom-mittally.
He threw a discouraging flavour into the remark, but its real object wasto lure Lady Coote on to her destruction.
“If it was cleared up and—er—cut—and—er—all that sort of thing,” shewent on hopefully.
“Aye,” said MacDonald slowly. “It could be done. But it would mean tak-ing William from the lower border.”
“Oh!” said Lady Coote doubtfully. The words “lower border” conveyedabsolutely nothing to her mind—except a vague suggestion of a Scottishsong—but it was clear that to MacDonald they constituted an insuperableobjection.
“And that would be a pity,” said MacDonald.
“Oh, of course,” said Lady Coote. “It would.” And wondered why sheagreed so fervently.
MacDonald looked at her very hard.
“Of course,” he said, “if it’s your orders, m’lady—”
He left it like that. But his menacing tone was too much for Lady Coote.
She capitulated at once.
“Oh, no,” she said. “I see what you mean, MacDonald. N—no—Williamhad better get on with the lower border.”
“That’s what I thocht meself, m’lady.”
“Yes,” said Lady Coote. “Yes, certainly.”
“I thocht you’d agree, m’lady,” said MacDonald.
“Oh, certainly,” said Lady Coote again.
MacDonald touched his hat and moved away.
Lady Coote sighed unhappily and looked after him. Jimmy Thesiger, re-plete with kidneys and bacon, stepped out on to the terrace beside her,and sighed in quite a different manner.
“Topping morning, eh?” he remarked.
“Is it?” said Lady Coote absently. “Oh, yes, I suppose it is. I hadn’t no-ticed.”
“Where are the others? Punting on the lake?”
“I expect so. I mean, I shouldn’t wonder if they were.”
Lady Coote turned and plunged abruptly into the house again. Tredwellwas just examining the coffee pot.
“Oh, dear,” said Lady Coote. “Isn’t Mr.—Mr.—”
“Wade, m’lady?”
“Yes, Mr. Wade. Isn’t he down yet?”
“No, m’lady.”
“It’s very late.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose he will come down sometime, Tredwell?”
“Oh, undoubtedly, m’lady. It was eleven thirty yesterday morning whenMr. Wade came down, m’lady.”
Lady Coote glanced at the clock. It was now twenty minutes to twelve. Awave of human sympathy rushed over her.
“It’s very hard luck on you, Tredwell. Having to clear and then get lunchon the table by one o’clock.”
“I am accustomed to the ways of young gentlemen, m’lady.”
The reproof was dignified, but unmistakable. So might a prince of theChurch reprove a Turk or an infidel who had unwittingly committed a sol-ecism in all good faith.
Lady Coote blushed for the second time that morning. But a welcome in-terruption occurred. The door opened and a serious, spectacled youngman put his head in.
“Oh, there you are, Lady Coote. Sir Oswald was asking for you.”
“Oh, I’ll go to him at once, Mr. Bateman.”
Lady Coote hurried out.
Rupert Bateman, who was Sir Oswald’s private secretary, went out theother way, through the window where Jimmy Thesiger was still loungingamiably.
“ ’Morning, Pongo,” said Jimmy. “I suppose I shall have to go and makemyself agreeable to those blasted girls. You coming?”
Bateman shook his head and hurried along the terrace and in at the lib-rary window. Jimmy grinned pleasantly at his retreating back. He andBateman had been at school together, when Bateman had been a serious,spectacled boy, and had been nicknamed Pongo for no earthly reasonwhatever.
Pongo, Jimmy reflected, was very much the same sort of ass now that hehad been then. The words “Life is real, life is earnest” might have beenwritten specially for him.
Jimmy yawned and strolled slowly down to the lake. The girls werethere, three of them—just the usual sort of girls, two with dark, shingledheads and one with a fair, shingled head. The one that giggled most was(he thought) called Helen—and there was another called Nancy—and thethird one was, for some reason, addressed as Socks. With them were histwo friends, Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux, who were employed in apurely ornamental capacity at the Foreign Office.
“Hallo,” said Nancy (or possibly Helen). “It’s Jimmy. Where’s what’s hisname?”
“You don’t mean to say,” said Bill Eversleigh, “that Gerry Wade’s not upyet? Something ought to be done about it.”
“If he’s not careful,” said Ronny Devereux, “he’ll miss his breakfast alto-gether one day—find it’s lunch or tea instead when he rolls down.”
“It’s a shame,” said the girl called Socks. “Because it worries Lady Cooteso. She gets more and more like a hen that wants to lay an egg and can’t.
It’s too bad.”
“Let’s pull him out of bed,” suggested Bill. “Come on, Jimmy.”
“Oh! let’s be more subtle than that,” said the girl called Socks. Subtle wasa word of which she was rather fond. She used it a great deal.
“I’m not subtle,” said Jimmy. “I don’t know how.”
“Let’s get together and do something about it tomorrow morning,” sug-gested Ronny vaguely. “You know, get him up at seven. Stagger the house-hold. Tredwell loses his false whiskers and drops the tea urn. Lady Cootehas hysterics and faints in Bill’s arms—Bill being the weight carrier. SirOswald says ‘Ha!’ and steel goes up a point and five eighths. Pongo re-gisters emotion by throwing down his spectacles and stamping on them.”
“You don’t know Gerry,” said Jimmy. “I daresay enough cold watermight wake him—judiciously applied, that is. But he’d only turn over andgo to sleep again.”
“Oh! we must think of something more subtle than cold water,” saidSocks.
“Well, what?” asked Ronny bluntly. And nobody had any answer ready.
“We ought to be able to think of something,” said Bill. “Who’s got anybrains?”
“Pongo,” said Jimmy. “And here he is, rushing along in a harried man-ner as usual. Pongo was always the one for brains. It’s been his misfortunefrom his youth upwards. Let’s turn Pongo on to it.”
Mr. Bateman listened patiently to a somewhat incoherent statement. Hisattitude was that of one poised for flight. He delivered his solution withoutloss of time.
“I should suggest an alarum clock,” he said briskly. “I always use onemyself for fear of oversleeping. I find that early tea brought in in a noise-less manner is sometimes powerless to awaken one.”
He hurried away.
“An alarum clock.” Ronny shook his head. “One alarum clock. It wouldtake about a dozen to disturb Gerry Wade.”
“Well, why not?” Bill was flushed and earnest. “I’ve got it. Let’s all gointo Market Basing and buy an alarum clock each.”
There was laughter and discussion. Bill and Ronny went off to get holdof cars. Jimmy was deputed to spy upon the dining room. He returned rap-idly.
“He’s here right enough. Making up for lost time and wolfing down toastand marmalade. How are we going to prevent him coming along with us?”
It was decided that Lady Coote must be approached and instructed tohold him in play. Jimmy and Nancy and Helen fulfilled this duty. LadyCoote was bewildered and apprehensive.
“A rag? You will be careful, won’t you, my dears? I mean, you won’tsmash the furniture and wreck things or use too much water. We’ve got tohand this house over next week, you know. I shouldn’t like Lord Caterhamto think—”
Bill, who had returned from the garage, broke in reassuringly.
“That’s all right, Lady Coote. Bundle Brent—Lord Caterham’s daughter—is a great friend of mine. And there’s nothing she’d stick at—absolutelynothing! You can take it from me. And anyway there’s not going to be anydamage done. This is quite a quiet affair.”
“Subtle,” said the girl called Socks.
Lady Coote went sadly along the terrace just as Gerald Wade emergedfrom the breakfast room. Jimmy Thesiger was a fair, cherubic young man,and all that could be said of Gerald Wade was that he was fairer and morecherubic, and that his vacuous expression made Jimmy’s face quite intelli-gent by contrast.
“ ’Morning, Lady Coote,” said Gerald Wade. “Where are all the others?”
“They’ve all gone to Market Basing,” said Lady Coote.
“What for?”
“Some joke,” said Lady Coote in her deep, melancholy voice.
“Rather early in the morning for jokes,” said Mr. Wade.
“It’s not so very early in the morning,” said Lady Coote pointedly.
“I’m afraid I was a bit late coming down,” said Mr. Wade with engagingfrankness. “It’s an extraordinary thing, but wherever I happen to be stay-ing, I’m always last to be down.”
“Very extraordinary,” said Lady Coote.
“I don’t know why it is,” said Mr. Wade, meditating. “I can’t think, I’msure.”
“Why don’t you just get up?” suggested Lady Coote.
“Oh!” said Mr. Wade. The simplicity of the solution rather took himaback.
Lady Coote went on earnestly.
“I’ve heard Sir Oswald say so many times that there’s nothing for gettinga young man on in the world like punctual habits.”
“Oh, I know,” said Mr. Wade. “And I have to when I’m in town. I mean, Ihave to be round at the jolly old Foreign Office by eleven o’clock. Youmustn’t think I’m always a slacker, Lady Coote. I say, what awfully jollyflowers you’ve got down in that lower border. I can’t remember the namesof them, but we’ve got some at home—those mauve thingummybobs. Mysister’s tremendously keen on gardening.”
Lady Coote was immediately diverted. Her wrongs rankled within her.
“What kind of gardeners do you have?”
“Oh just one. Rather an old fool, I believe. Doesn’t know much, but hedoes what he’s told. And that’s a great thing, isn’t it?”
Lady Coote agreed that it was with a depth of feeling in her voice thatwould have been invaluable to her as an emotional actress. They began todiscourse on the iniquities of gardeners.
Meanwhile the expedition was doing well. The principal emporium ofMarket Basing had been invaded and the sudden demand for alarumclocks was considerably puzzling the proprietor.
“I wish we’d got Bundle here,” murmured Bill. “You know her, don’tyou, Jimmy? Oh, you’d like her. She’s a splendid girl—a real good sport—and mark you, she’s got brains too. You know her, Ronny?”
Ronny shook his head.
“Don’t know Bundle? Where have you been vegetating? She’s simply it.”
“Be a bit more subtle, Bill,” said Socks. “Stop blethering about your ladyfriends and get on with the business.”
Mr. Murgatroyd, owner of Murgatroyd’s Stores, burst into eloquence.
“If you’ll allow me to advise you, Miss, I should say—not the 7/11 one.
It’s a good clock—I’m not running it down, mark you, but I should stronglyadvise this kind at 10/6. Well worth the extra money. Reliability, you un-derstand. I shouldn’t like you to say afterwards—”
It was evident to everybody that Mr. Murgatroyd must be turned off likea tap.
“We don’t want a reliable clock, said Nancy.
“It’s got to go for one day, that’s all,” said Helen.
“We don’t want a subtle one,” said Socks. “We want one with a goodloud ring.”
“We want—” began Bill, but was unable to finish, because Jimmy, whowas of a mechanical turn of mind, had at last grasped the mechanism. Forthe next five minutes the shop was hideous with the loud raucous ringingof many alarum clocks.
In the end six excellent starters were selected.
“And I’ll tell you what,” said Ronny handsomely, “I’ll get one for Pongo.
It was his idea, and it’s a shame that he should be out of it. He shall be rep-resented among those present.”
“That’s right,” said Bill. “And I’ll take an extra one for Lady Coote. Themore the merrier. And she’s doing some of the spade work. Probably gass-ing away to old Gerry now.”
Indeed at this precise moment Lady Coote was detailing a long storyabout MacDonald and a prize peach and enjoying herself very much.
The clocks were wrapped up and paid for. Mr. Murgatroyd watched thecars drive away with a puzzled air. Very spirited the young people of theupper classes nowadays, very spirited indeed, but not at all easy to under-stand. He turned with relief to attend to the vicar’s wife, who wanted anew kind of dripless teapot.
第一章 关于早起
第一章 关于早起
一团和气的小伙子吉米•塞西杰三步并作两步地从烟囱别墅那宽大的楼梯上跑下来。他跑得太快了，跟神情威严的管家特雷德韦尔撞了个满怀。特雷德韦尔正端着一壶刚煮好的热咖啡穿过厅堂。幸亏他眼疾手快，所以没有造成什么伤害。
“抱歉，”吉米连忙道歉，“对了，特雷德韦尔，我不会是最后一个下来的吧？”
“不是，先生，韦德先生还没下来呢。”
“哦。”吉米说着，进了吃早餐的屋子。
屋子里只有房东太太一个人。她用责备的目光看了吉米一眼。这让吉米很不舒服，就好像看到鱼摊上死鱼眼睛的感觉。真是岂有此理，至于用这种眼神吗？不就是在这幢乡下屋子里过夜，没有在早上九点半准时起床下楼嘛。现在是十一点一刻，的确是有点过分了。不过，即使这样……
“库特夫人，怕是我起来得晚了一点，是不是？”
“噢，没关系。”库特夫人的语气有点闷闷不乐。
其实，吃早饭迟到总是令她非常不安。在她结婚后的头十年里，要是奥斯瓦德•库特爵士（当时还没获得爵士头衔）吃早饭的时间比八点钟晚了，哪怕只晚了半分钟，他也会大发雷霆。渐渐地，库特夫人把不准时看做是最不可饶恕的罪过。习惯是很难改掉的，而且，她是个急性子。有时她不禁感慨，这些连早起都做不到的年轻人，在这世上还能干出什么大事业来呢。就像奥斯瓦德爵士常常对记者或其他什么人说的：“我取得成功完全归功于早起、节俭和有规律的生活习惯。”
库特夫人是个身材高大的漂亮女人，但神情中总是带有一丝哀伤。她那对深邃的大眼睛透着忧伤，说起话来声音低沉。要是有人想画一幅《圣经》里的“拉结哭她的儿女”的油画，库特夫人一定是理想的模特。如果她去演音乐剧，也一定会很出色——一个饱受恶棍丈夫虐待的可怜妻子，在冰天雪地里孤独地蹒跚前行。
她的样子让人觉得她在生活中似乎遭受过极大的隐痛，但事实上，库特夫人从没有经历过苦日子，而且嫁给奥斯瓦德爵士之后，她也算是夫贵妻荣了。在还是姑娘的时候，库特夫人就是一个快乐无忧的小可爱，她深深地爱上了奥斯瓦德——一个在她父亲五金店旁的自行车店里工作的胸怀大志的年轻人。他们在一起生活得很快乐，先是租了几间房子住，然后有了一幢小屋子。再后来他们的房子越来越大，越来越好，但总是在“工厂”的附近——直到奥斯瓦德爵士出人头地，不再跟“工厂”有依存关系。而且，他总是喜欢租用全英格兰最大、最豪华的宅邸。“烟囱别墅”就是一个很有年头的地方，两年前从凯特勒姆勋爵那里租过来的时候，奥斯瓦德觉得自己已达到了人生的巅峰。
不过，库特夫人对此并没有那么高兴。她是一个孤僻的女人。刚结婚时，她主要的消遣就是跟“女孩们”聊天——甚至当“女孩”的人数大大增加时，她的主要消遣还是跟仆人们聊天。如今，库特夫人身边有了一群女仆，一个像大主教一般威风的管家，几个身材高大的男仆，一群叽叽喳喳在厨房里帮忙的女孩子，一个脾气暴躁到有些吓人的外国厨师，还有一个走起路来就哑着嗓子叫唤的大块头女管家——但库特夫人仍然感觉自己像是被放逐到荒岛上一般。
她重重地叹了一口气，从敞开的落地窗缓缓地走了出去，这倒让吉米•塞西杰大大地松了一口气，趁机又多吃了几块腰花和熏肉。
库特夫人忧心忡忡地在露台上站了一会儿，然后鼓起勇气想和麦克唐纳说说话。麦克唐纳是领头的园丁，他正像一个独裁君王一样俯视着自己统治的这块领土。麦克唐纳是园丁中的“领袖”和“亲王”，他了解自己的“领地”，而且治理起来就像是一个暴君。
库特夫人忐忑不安地走上前去。
“早上好，麦克唐纳。”
“早上好，夫人。”
他以园丁老大的口气回了话——语气有点哀伤，却不乏威严——就像参加葬礼的帝王。
“我在想……今天晚上可不可以摘一些那边刚熟的葡萄，做一道甜点？”
“还不够熟呢，不能摘。”麦克唐纳回答道。
他的语气缓和却很坚决。
“哦。”库特夫人鼓起勇气继续说道，“可是我昨天在那里尝了一颗，味道蛮好的。”
麦克唐纳盯着她，弄得她脸红起来。他的目光让她觉得自己这种放肆的行为是不可原谅的。很显然，凯特勒姆勋爵夫人从不会这么失礼，自己跑到温室里随意摘葡萄吃。
“如果您事先吩咐一声，夫人，我们早就会剪一串给您送去的。”麦克唐纳的语气有些严厉。
“噢，多谢了。”库特夫人回答道，“好的，下次我一定这么做。”
“只是现在还不适合摘。”
“是的，”库特夫人喃喃道，“是的，大概是不适合。那就算了吧。”
麦克唐纳没有搭腔，沉默中透露着威严。库特夫人又一次鼓起勇气。
“我正想跟你谈谈玫瑰花园后面那块草坪的事。我想是不是可以把它改造成草地滚球场。奥斯瓦德爵士非常喜欢玩滚球游戏。”
“有什么不可以呢？”库特夫人心里想着。她以前上英国历史课时就知道，德雷克爵士和他的骑士伙伴们不就是在玩滚球游戏时才发现西班牙无敌舰队的吗？这显然是一项绅士的活动，麦克唐纳没理由反对。然而，她没有想到这位园丁老大的犟脾气——那就是听不进别人提出的任何建议。
“不可以这么做。”麦克唐纳没有表示赞同。
他泼了一盆冷水，不过他真正的用意是想诱使库特夫人彻底放弃。
“如果清理一下，还有……呃……修剪一下……诸如此类的吧。”她仍然抱有希望。
“行，”麦克唐纳慢吞吞地说道，“这能做到。可是这么一来，就得把威廉从那边叫过来了。”
“噢！”库特夫人疑惑地说道。“那边”对她来说毫无意义——只是让她模模糊糊地想起一首苏格兰民歌——但对麦克唐纳来说，这显然是最强烈的反对了。
“那会是一大遗憾。”麦克唐纳说道。
“噢！当然，”库特夫人说道，“是的。”但她马上又奇怪自己为什么会这么快地表示赞同。
麦克唐纳死死地盯着她。
“当然，”他开口说道，“如果您有吩咐，夫人……”
他没有把话说完，但威胁的语气对库特夫人来说再明显不过了。她立即投降认输。
“哦，不，”她说道，“我懂你的意思，麦克唐纳。不……不……威廉还是留在那里的好。”
“我也是这么想的，夫人。”
“是的，”库特夫人说，“是的，当然。”
“我想您会同意的，夫人。”麦克唐纳说道。
“哦，当然。”库特夫人又说了一遍。
于是，麦克唐纳正了正帽子，转身走开了。
库特夫人看着他远去的背影，不快地叹了一口气。吉米•塞西杰在饱餐了一顿腰花和熏肉之后，这时也来到露台上，站在她身旁。他也叹了口气，但心情是完全不同的。
“今天早上真是好极了，嗯？”他说道。
“是吗？”库特夫人有点心不在焉，“哦，是的，大概是吧。我没注意到。”
“其他人呢？在湖上划船吗？”
“我想是吧。我是说，如果他们在那里划船，我不会觉得奇怪。”
库特夫人转身回到屋子里。特雷德韦尔正在端详那把咖啡壶。
“噢，天哪，”库特夫人说道，“那位先生还没……”
“您是说韦德先生吗，夫人？”
“对，韦德先生。他还没下来吗？”
“没呢，夫人。”
“已经很晚了。”
“是很晚了，夫人。”
“噢，天哪！我想他大概要下来了吧，特雷德韦尔？”
“是的，夫人。昨天韦德先生是十一点半下来的，夫人。”
库特夫人瞟了一眼钟表，差二十分就到十二点了。她心中不免有些怜悯。
“真是难为你了，特雷德韦尔。你得把这里打扫干净，然后在一点钟之前又要准备好午餐。”
“我已经习惯了年轻绅士们的生活方式，夫人。”
他说话声音不是很重，但责备的意思很明显了。教堂的主教在责备一个无心犯错的土耳其人或异教徒时也会用这种口吻。
库特夫人的脸又一次红了起来。幸好这时门开了，打破了她的难堪。一个表情严肃、戴着眼镜的年轻人探头进来。
“哦，您在这儿，库特夫人。奥斯瓦德爵士请您过去一趟。”
“好的，我马上就去，贝特曼先生。”
库特夫人急匆匆地离开了。
鲁珀特•贝特曼是奥斯瓦德爵士的私人秘书，他穿过落地窗，从另一个方向离开了。而吉米•塞西杰还悠然自得地在那里看风景呢。
“早上好，黑猩猩，”吉米打了个招呼，“我想我得去给那些该死的小妞们献殷勤了。一起去吧？”
贝特曼摇了摇头，顺着露台和旁边的窗户走开了。
看着他消失的背影，吉米咧嘴一笑。他和贝特曼以前是同学，当时贝特曼就戴了眼镜，是个不苟言笑的文静男子，但不知是什么原因，他竟得到了一个“黑猩猩”的绰号。
吉米心想，黑猩猩还是跟以前一样，是个笨蛋。“生活是真实的，生活是认真的”，这句话用在他身上再合适不过了。
吉米打了个呵欠，慢慢地朝湖边走去。女孩们都在那里，一共有三个，都是普普通通的短发女孩——两个黑色头发，一个金色头发。最爱笑的那个叫海伦，另外一个叫南希，至于第三个，也不知什么原因，大家管她叫“袜子”。跟她们在一起的是他的两个朋友，比尔•埃弗斯利和罗尼•德弗卢。这两人都在外交部供职，但不过是去混日子罢了。
“嗨！”南希说道（也可能是海伦打的招呼），“吉米，那个叫什么来着的先生呢？”
“你该不会是说，”比尔•埃弗斯利说道，“格里•韦德还没起床吧？应该想办法治治他才好。”
“要是他不小心，”罗尼•德弗卢说道，“总有一天他会吃不到早餐的。等他下楼，只能吃午餐或者喝下午茶了。”
“真丢脸，”那个叫“袜子”的女孩说道，“你们看，库特夫人都担心成什么样子了。她越来越像一只想下蛋却找不到窝的母鸡。这太过分了。”
“我们去把他拉下来吧。”比尔提议道，“一起去，吉米。”
“噢，我们还是用微妙点儿的方法吧。”袜子插了一句。“微妙”这个词她蛮喜欢说的，几乎成了她的口头禅。
“我是个粗人，”吉米回答道，“我不知道该怎么微妙。”
“还是明天早上一起行动吧。”罗尼暧昧地提议道，“七点钟就把他弄醒，把全屋子的人都惊动。特雷德韦尔的假胡子和茶壶掉到地上；库特夫人变得歇斯底里，一下子倒在比尔的怀里——比尔力气大嘛；奥斯瓦德爵士‘哈’的一声，他的钢铁公司股票就应声上涨；黑猩猩则大发脾气，把眼镜摔在地上，再踩上几脚。”
“你不了解格里。”吉米说，“泼足够的冷水是可以把他浇醒，但我敢说他翻个身又会睡着的。”
“噢，那我们得想个比泼冷水更微妙的方法。”袜子说。
“好吧，那你有什么好办法？”罗尼直截了当地问道，但谁也没有现成的答案。
“我们该想出个办法来才好。”比尔说，“谁点子多一些？”
“黑猩猩。”吉米说道，“瞧，他过来了，像往常一样风风火火的。黑猩猩一向最有头脑，从小就是这样，真是不幸啊。我们让他来想想办法吧。”
贝特曼先生耐心地听着他们有些不大连贯的叙述，脸上显出胸有成竹的表情。听完之后，他立即说出了自己的解决方案。
“我建议用闹钟。”他干脆地说道，“我自己就一直用闹钟，以免睡过了头。早上不声不响地送一杯早茶进去不一定会把人弄醒。”
他急匆匆地走开了。
“闹钟？”罗尼摇摇头，“一个闹钟？要想吵醒格里•韦德，用一打闹钟还差不多。”
“这有何不可？”比尔的脸涨得通红，很认真地说道，“我有个主意，咱们到街上去，每个人买个闹钟。”
大家笑着，继续聊天。比尔和罗尼去找车子。吉米被派到餐厅去打探，他很快就回来了。
“他在那儿，正狼吞虎咽着烤面包和果酱呢。我们怎么才能不让他跟我们一起去？”
最后决定去找库特夫人，要她帮忙把他拖住——吉米、南希和海伦一起完成了这项任务。
库特夫人一脸的惶惑不解。
“开个玩笑？你们可要当心点儿呀，亲爱的孩子们。我是说，你们不要把家具划伤了，或者弄坏了其他的东西。下个星期我们就要归还这幢房子了，我可不想让凯特勒姆勋爵以为……”
这时，比尔从车库回来了，他插嘴说道：“不要紧的，库特夫人。邦德尔•布伦特，凯特勒姆勋爵的女儿，是我的好朋友。再说了，她不会太计较的——绝对不会！包在我身上。而且，不会损坏东西。这件事完全不会闹出动静。”
“很微妙的事情。”那个叫袜子的女孩补充着。
库特夫人神情忧郁地沿露台走着，这时格里•韦德恰好从餐厅里出来。吉米•塞西杰是个皮肤白皙、长着娃娃脸的年轻人，相比之下，格里•韦德要显得更白皙、更可爱。但他脸上却毫无表情；相反，吉米则显得要狡黠得多。
“早上好，库特夫人。”格里•韦德说道，“其他人都到哪儿去了？”
“他们到贝辛商场去了。”库特夫人说。
“干嘛去了？”
“大概想开个玩笑吧。”库特夫人以其特有的低沉、忧郁的口气说道。
“一大早起来开玩笑，似乎太早了点吧。”韦德先生说道。
“可现在已经不早了。”库特夫人有些埋怨地说道。
“我恐怕是起来得太晚了点。”韦德先生坦率得可爱，“不过奇怪的是，不管我到什么地方，我总是最后一个起床。”
“的确非常奇怪。”库特夫人答道。
“我不知道为什么会这样。”韦德先生想了想，继续说道，“我想不出来，但我敢肯定。”
“你早些起床不就得了？”库特夫人提议道。
“噢！”韦德先生叫道。这么简单的办法令他有些吃惊。
库特夫人继续热情地说道：“奥斯瓦德爵士跟我说过很多次了，他说，再没有什么比守时更能让年轻人上进了。”
“这个我知道。”韦德先生说，“在城里的时候，我也不得不这样做。我是说，我得在上午十一点赶到外交部去。您可别以为我一直是条懒虫，库特夫人。啊，花坛那边的花儿真美，我说不上它们的名字，但我们家里也有一些……就是那些淡紫色的花，叫什么来着？
我妹妹对园艺非常着迷。”
库特夫人立刻高兴起来，但她内心的委屈又开始隐隐作痛。
“你们家的园丁怎么样呢？”
“哦，只有一个园丁，有点老糊涂了，懂的不多，你得吩咐他做什么他才做什么。可是，这不也挺好的吗？”
库特夫人以极其深沉的语气深表同意，这种深沉足以让她成为一名情感丰富的出色演员。他们开始谈论起园丁的种种邪恶行径来。
与此同时，去贝辛商场的那些人也进展顺利。他们一群人冲进商场，一下子要买那么多闹钟，着实让店主困惑不已。
“真希望邦德尔也在这里，”比尔嘟囔着说道，“你认识她吧，吉米？你会喜欢她的，她擅长运动，而且也很有头脑。你认识她吗，罗尼？”
罗尼摇摇头。
“不认识？你是怎么混的？她实在很了不起。”
“说话还是微妙一点吧，比尔。”袜子说道，“别再胡说姑娘们的闲话了，办正事要紧。”
默加特罗伊德先生是这家商店的老板，一见有顾客上门，马上迎了上来。
“要我说呀，小姐，您最好不要买这种7/11型的——当然，这种型号的也不错。我不是有意贬低，但我强烈推荐您买10/6型的。加点钱完全值得，质量可靠，走得相当准。我不想让您买了之后又……”
显然，每一个人都知道，如果不像拧紧水龙头一样打断他的话，默加特罗伊德先生就会一直说个没完。
“我们要的不是可靠。”南希说。
“只要能走上一天就行。”海伦补充说道。
“声音要特别响。”袜子说道。
“我们想要……”比尔没有再说下去，因为懂一点机械常识的吉米，已经转好了几个闹钟的起闹时间。
在接下来的五分钟，整个店里响起了吵死人的闹铃声。
最后，他们选定了六个声音最大的。
“我告诉你们，”罗尼兴奋地说道，“我要替黑猩猩买一个。这是他出的主意，他不加入实在是不像话。他算一个。”
“对。”比尔说，“我也替库特夫人买一个，越多越有趣。而且，她的任务还挺重的，说不定正在跟格里那小子胡扯呢。”
此时此刻，库特夫人还真的正在向格里讲述麦克唐纳和一个漂亮女孩的故事，而且还说得有滋有味的。
闹钟都包装好了，并且付了钱。默加特罗伊德先生看着离去的汽车，脸上露出迷惑的表情。如今这些上流社会的年轻人真是能折腾，但很难理解他们为什么要这样。他松了一口气，转身接待下一个顾客，一位牧师的妻子，她想要买一个不滴水的新式茶壶。
Two CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS
Two CONCERNING ALARUM CLOCKS

“Now where shall we put them?”
Dinner was over. Lady Coote had been once more detailed for duty. SirOswald had unexpectedly come to the rescue by suggesting bridge—notthat suggesting is the right word. Sir Oswald, as became one of “Our Cap-tains of Industry” (No 7 of Series I), merely expressed a preference andthose around him hastened to accommodate themselves to the great man’swishes.
Rupert Bateman and Sir Oswald were partners against Lady Coote andGerald Wade, which was a very happy arrangement. Sir Oswald playedbridge, like he did everything else, extremely well, and liked a partner tocorrespond. Bateman was as efficient a bridge player as he was a secret-ary. Both of them confined themselves strictly to the matter in hand,merely uttering in curt, short barks, “Two no trumps,” “Double,” “Threespades.” Lady Coote and Gerald Wade were amiable and discursive, andthe young man never failed to say at the conclusion of each hand, “I say,partner, you played that simply splendidly,” in tones of simple admirationwhich Lady Coote found both novel and extremely soothing. They alsoheld very good cards.
The others were supposed to be dancing to the wireless in the big ball-room. In reality they were grouped around the door of Gerald Wade’s bed-room, and the air was full of subdued giggles and the loud ticking ofclocks.
“Under the bed in a row,” suggested Jimmy in answer to Bill’s question.
“And what shall we set them at? What time, I mean? All together so thatthere’s one glorious whatnot, or at intervals?”
The point was hotly disputed. One party argued that for a championsleeper like Gerry Wade the combined ringing of eight alarum clocks wasnecessary. The other party argued in favour of steady and sustained ef-fort.
In the end the latter won the day. The clocks were set to go off one afterthe other, starting at 6:30 am.
“And I hope,” said Bill virtuously, “that this will be a lesson to him.”
“Hear, hear,” said Socks.
The business of hiding the clocks was just being begun when there wasa sudden alarm.
“Hist,” cried Jimmy. “Somebody’s coming up the stairs.”
There was a panic.
“It’s all right,” said Jimmy. “It’s only Pongo.”
Taking advantage of being dummy, Mr. Bateman was going to his roomfor a handkerchief. He paused on his way and took in the situation at aglance. He then made a comment, a simple and practical one.
“He will hear them ticking when he goes to bed.”
The conspirators looked at each other.
“What did I tell you?” said Jimmy in a reverent voice. “Pongo always didhave brains!”
The brainy one passed on.
“It’s true,” admitted Ronny Devereux, his head on one side. “Eight clocksall ticking at once do make a devil of a row. Even old Gerry, ass as he is,couldn’t miss it. He’ll guess something’s up.”
“I wonder if he is,” said Jimmy Thesiger.
“Is what?”
“Such an ass as we all think.”
Ronny stared at him.
“We all know old Gerald.”
“Do we?” said Jimmy. “I’ve sometimes thought that—well, that it isn’tpossible for anyone to be quite the ass old Gerry makes himself out to be.”
They all stared at him. There was a serious look on Ronny’s face.
“Jimmy,” he said, “you’ve got brains.”
“A second Pongo,” said Bill encouragingly.
“Well, it just occurred to me, that’s all,” said Jimmy, defending himself.
“Oh! don’t let’s all be subtle,” cried Socks. “What are we to do aboutthese clocks?”
“Here’s Pongo coming back again. Let’s ask him,” suggested Jimmy.
Pongo, urged to bring his great brain to bear upon the matter, gave hisdecision.
“Wait till he’s gone to bed and got to sleep. Then enter the room veryquietly and put the clocks down on the floor.”
“Little Pongo’s right again,” said Jimmy. “On the word one all parkclocks, and then we’ll go downstairs and disarm suspicion.”
Bridge was still proceeding—with a slight difference. Sir Oswald wasnow playing with his wife and was conscientiously pointing out to her themistakes she had made during the play of each hand. Lady Coote acceptedreproof good-humouredly, and with a complete lack of any real interest.
She reiterated, not once, but many times:
“I see, dear. It’s so kind of you to tell me.”
And she continued to make exactly the same errors.
At intervals, Gerald Wade said to Pongo:
“Well-played, partner, jolly well-played.”
Bill Eversleigh was making calculations with Ronny Devereux.
“Say he goes to bed about twelve—what do you think we ought to givehim—about an hour?”
He yawned.
“Curious thing—three in the morning is my usual time for bye-bye, buttonight, just because I know we’ve got to sit up a bit, I’d give anything tobe a mother’s boy and turn in right away.”
Everyone agreed that they felt the same.
“My dear Maria,” rose the voice of Sir Oswald in mild irritation. “I havetold you over and over again not to hesitate when you are wonderingwhether to finesse or not. You give the whole table information.”
Lady Coote had a very good answer to this—namely that as Sir Oswaldwas dummy, he had no right to comment on the play of the hand. But shedid not make it. Instead she smiled kindly, leaned her ample chest wellforward over the table, and gazed firmly into Gerald Wade’s hand wherehe sat on her right.
Her anxieties lulled to rest by perceiving the queen, she played theknave and took the trick and proceeded to lay down her cards.
“Four tricks and the rubber,” she announced. “I think I was very luckyto get four tricks there.”
“Lucky,” murmured Gerald Wade, as he pushed back his chair and cameover to the fireside to join the others. “Lucky, she calls it. That womanwants watching.”
Lady Coote was gathering up notes and silver.
“I know I’m not a good player,” she announced in a mournful tonewhich nevertheless held an undercurrent of pleasure in it. “But I’m reallyvery lucky at the game.”
“You’ll never be a bridge player, Maria,” said Sir Oswald.
“No, dear,” said Lady Coote. “I know I shan’t. You’re always telling meso. And I do try so hard.”
“She does,” said Gerald Wade sotto voce. “There’s no subterfuge about it.
She’d put her head right down on your shoulder if she couldn’t see intoyour hand any other way.”
“I know you try,” said Sir Oswald. “It’s just that you haven’t any cardsense.”
“I know, dear,” said Lady Coote. “That’s what you’re always telling me.
And you owe me another ten shillings, Oswald.”
“Do I?” Sir Oswald looked surprised.
“Yes. Seventeen hundred—eight pounds ten. You’ve only given me eightpounds.”
“Dear me,” said Sir Oswald. “My mistake.”
Lady Coote smiled at him sadly and took up the extra ten shilling note.
She was very fond of her husband, but she had no intention of allowinghim to cheat her out of ten shillings.
Sir Oswald moved over to a side table and became hospitable withwhisky and soda. It was half past twelve when general good nights weresaid.
Ronny Devereux, who had the room next door to Gerald Wade’s, wastold off to report progress. At a quarter to two he crept round tapping atdoors. The party, pyjamaed and dressing gowned, assembled with variousscuffles and giggles and low whispers.
“His light went out twenty minutes ago,” reported Ronny in a hoarsewhisper. “I thought he’d never put it out. I opened the door just now andpeeped in, and he seems sound off. What about it?”
Once more the clocks were solemnly assembled. Then another difficultyarose.
“We can’t all go barging in. Make no end of a row. One person’s got to doit and the others can hand him the whatnots from the door.”
Hot discussion then arose as to the proper person to be selected.
The three girls were rejected on the grounds that they would giggle. BillEversleigh was rejected on the grounds of his height, weight and heavytread, also for his general clumsiness, which latter clause he fiercelydenied. Jimmy Thesiger and Ronny Devereux were considered possibles,but in the end an overwhelming majority decided in favour of RupertBateman.
“Pongo’s the lad,” agreed Jimmy. “Anyway, he walks like a cat—alwaysdid. And then, if Gerry should waken up, Pongo will be able to think ofsome rotten silly thing to say to him. You know, something plausible that’llcalm him down and not rouse his suspicions.”
“Something subtle,” suggested the girl Socks thoughtfully.
“Exactly,” said Jimmy.
Pongo performed his job neatly and efficiently. Cautiously opening thebedroom door, he disappeared into the darkness inside bearing the twolargest clocks. In a minute or two he reappeared on the threshold and twomore were handed to him and then again twice more. Finally he emerged.
Everyone held their breath and listened. The rhythmical breathing of Ger-ald Wade could still be heard, but drowned, smothered and buried be-neath the triumphant, impassioned ticking of Mr. Murgatroyd’s eightalarum clocks.
第二章 事关闹钟
第二章 事关闹钟
“我们该把闹钟放在哪儿呢？”
晚饭已经吃好了。库特夫人又被他们分派了任务。没想到奥斯瓦德爵士突然提议打桥牌，正好给她解了围。也许用“提议”这个词不够恰当，奥斯瓦德爵士已经是“我们的工业巨头”之一，只要他表示一下想法，周围的人就会急忙照办。
鲁珀特•贝特曼和奥斯瓦德爵士搭档，库特夫人和格里•韦德合作，这样的安排实在是再好不过了。奥斯瓦德爵士的桥牌打得非常好，就像他做其他任何事情一样。而且，他喜欢一个能够配合得上的搭档；贝特曼在牌桌上的表现跟他做秘书一样完美无瑕。他们两人都神情专注地看着手中的牌，嘴里不时喊着：“两无将”、“加倍”、“三黑桃”。库特夫人和格里•韦德则是一副轻松散漫的样子，而且在每一手牌结束之后，韦德都不忘说一句：“嘿，搭档，您打得真是棒极了。”那尊敬的语气令库特夫人极为受用。他们手中的牌也的确不错。
其他人本应该在一间大舞厅里听着收音机的音乐跳舞的，但实际上他们却聚在格里•韦德的卧室里，房间里回荡着女孩们刻意压得低低的笑声和闹钟的滴答声。
“在床底下排成一排。”吉米回答了比尔提出的问题。
“那应该设在几点？我是说，几点钟让闹钟响？是定在同一个时刻一起响，还是有先有后？”
这个问题引起了大家的热烈争论。一派认为对格里•韦德这样的大睡虫来说，必须把八个闹钟定在同一个时刻一起响才行；另一派则认为八个闹钟持续不停地响效果会更好。
最后，第二种意见占了上风，闹钟被设定为一个接一个响，从早上六点半开始。
“我希望，”比尔善意地说，“这次能给他一个教训。”
“听，听！”袜子说道。
藏闹钟的事才刚刚开始，突然传来了报警的信号。
“嘘！”吉米叫道，“有人上楼来了。”
大家慌作一团。
“没事！”吉米说，“是黑猩猩。”
贝特曼先生利用做明手的空档，正准备到自己的房间去拿块手帕。路过韦德的卧室时他停了下来，往里面瞧了一眼，随后提了一个既简单又实际的问题。
“上床时他会听到闹钟的滴答声的。”
这群密谋者面面相觑。
“我怎么说来着？”吉米肃然起敬地说道，“黑猩猩就是很有脑子！”
那个被称为有脑子的人头也不回地走开了。
“不错，”罗尼•德弗卢歪了歪头，承认说，“八个闹钟放在一起的确很吵。就算格里蠢得像头驴，也不可能听不见，他会猜到有人在搞鬼的。”
“我怀疑他是不是这样。”吉米•塞西杰说。
“是什么样？”
“像我们认为的那样，是一头蠢驴。”
罗尼瞪大了眼睛盯着他。
“我们都了解格里。”
“是吗？”吉米反问道，“我有时在想，还有谁像格里那样看上去像头蠢驴？”
大家都望着他。罗尼脸上显出一本正经的神情。
“吉米，”他说道，“你的确有脑子。”
“又一个黑猩猩。”比尔赞叹道。
“哦，我只是偶然想到而已。”吉米为自己辩解了一句。
“喂！我们不要这么微妙好不好，”袜子大声叫道，“这些钟该怎么办？”
“黑猩猩又回来了。我们问问他吧。”吉米建议道。
在众人的催促下，黑猩猩费尽心思，然后给出了他的办法。“我们等他上床睡着之后，再悄悄进去，把闹钟放在地板上。”
“小黑猩猩又说对了。”吉米说道，“时候一到，大家把闹钟放下，然后下楼去，免得引起怀疑。”
那边还在打桥牌，但是有了一些变化。奥斯瓦德爵士现在跟他太太搭档，每次出牌只要她犯一点点错误，奥斯瓦德爵士就会细致地指出。库特夫人则很包容地接受每一次指责，但她仍然对打牌毫无兴趣。她不止一次地重复：“我懂了，亲爱的，你指出来真是太好了。”但她下次仍然犯同样的错误。
格里•韦德不时地夸奖黑猩猩：“打得好，伙计，真不赖。”
比尔•埃弗斯利正在跟罗尼•德弗卢紧张地谋划着。
“假如他十二点左右上床……你觉得我们应该预留多少时间……一个小时够不够？”
他打了个呵欠。
“奇怪——我经常半夜三点才想睡觉，但是今天晚上怎么啦？莫非是因为知道我们得熬夜，反倒想做个乖孩子？我现在困了。”
大家都承认有同感。
“我亲爱的玛丽亚，”奥斯瓦德爵士有些愠怒，“我跟你说过多少次了，在考虑要不要偷牌的时候不要犹豫。你这样一来，全桌人都知道你手上的牌了。”
对于丈夫的指责，库特夫人本来可以很容易就挡回去的——既然奥斯瓦德爵士是明手，他就没有权力对对家的出牌说三道四。不过，她并没有这么做，而是和气地微微一笑，把丰满的胸脯往前欠了欠，硬是把坐在她右手边的韦德手里的牌看了个仔细。
她看到韦德手上有一张Q，先前的不安顿时消失了。她打出一张J，赢了这一墩，便打算摊牌。
“赢了四墩，而且赢了这一局，”她高兴地宣布，“能赢四墩真是非常幸运！”
“幸运！”格里•韦德嘟囔着说道。他把椅子往后一推，走到壁炉边，加入聚在那里的人群，“她管这叫幸运。那女人得防着点才好。”
库特夫人正忙着收拢桌上的纸币和银币。
“我知道我打得不好。”她掩饰不住内心的喜悦，“不过我的运气实在很好。”
“你永远也不会成为一个桥牌手，玛丽亚。”奥斯瓦德爵士说道。
“当然，亲爱的，”库特夫人说，“这个我知道。你一直都这么说，但我确实已经很努力了。”
“她确实努力了，”格里低声说道，“而且丝毫不加掩饰。要是找不到别的办法偷看你的牌，她索性会把头伸过来看。”
“我知道你很努力，”奥斯瓦德爵士说，“问题是你丝毫没有打牌的感觉。”
“我知道，亲爱的，”库特夫人答道，“你一直这么说的。你还欠我十先令，奥斯瓦德。”
“是吗？”奥斯瓦德爵士显得很惊讶。
“没错。一千七百分，也就是八镑十先令。你只给了我八镑。”
“哎呀，”奥斯瓦德爵士叫道，“是我的错。”
库特夫人遗憾地冲他微微一笑，收起那十先令。虽然她非常喜欢自己的丈夫，不过也不容许他无缘无故少给十先令。
奥斯瓦德爵士挪到墙边的一张桌前，喝了些威士忌加苏打水，随即变得热情活泼起来。当大家互道晚安时，已经是晚上十二点半了。
罗尼•德弗卢住在格里•韦德的隔壁，所以被分派打探情况。差一刻两点时，他悄悄地到每个人的房间敲门。于是，一群人穿着各式各样的睡衣睡袍聚在一起，楼道里发出沙沙的拖鞋声、低低的浅笑声和悄悄的说话声。
“他房里的灯大约二十分钟前就熄掉了，”罗尼压低了嗓音报告说，“我还以为他不会熄灯呢。刚才我打开了他的门，往里面看了看，他好像睡得很熟。现在怎么办？”
很快，所有的闹钟又被集中在一起。这时又出现了另一个难题。
“我们不能都挤进去，那样就太吵了。得派一个人进去，其他人把闹钟往里面递。”
大家又七嘴八舌地讨论选谁进去比较恰当。
三个女孩子被排除在外，因为她们喜欢发出格格的笑声。比尔•埃弗斯利也被排除了，因为他人高马大，走起路来很响，而且有点笨手笨脚（对于这一点，他当然是强烈反对）。吉米•塞西杰和罗尼•德弗卢被认为是合适的人选，但最终大多数人认为鲁珀特•贝特曼最合适。
“黑猩猩是最佳人选，”吉米表示赞同，“他走起路来就像猫一样轻，一直都是这样。再说了，万一格里醒过来，黑猩猩肯定能想出办法糊弄过去，说出一些听上去有道理、不让他起疑的话。”
“一些微妙的话。”袜子若有所思地说道。
“对。”吉米强调道。
黑猩猩手脚麻利，小心翼翼地打开卧室门，带着最大的两个闹钟消失在黑暗之中。一两分钟之后，他又回到门口，其他人又递给他两个闹钟。就这样又重复了两次，最后他终于出来了。大家屏住呼吸，仔细地听着。格里•韦德均匀的呼吸声依稀可辨，但渐渐就被默加特罗伊德先生的八个闹钟发出的激昂喧嚣的滴答声给淹没了。
Three HE JOKE THAT FAILED
Three HE JOKE THAT FAILED

“Twelve o’clock,” said Socks despairingly.
The joke—as a joke—had not gone off any too well. The alarum clocks,on the other hand, had performed their part. They had gone off—with avigour and élan that could hardly have been surpassed and which hadsent Ronny Devereux leaping out of bed with a confused idea that the dayof judgment had come. If such had been the effect in the room next door,what must it have been at close quarters? Ronny hurried out in the pas-sage and applied his ear to the crack of the door.
He expected profanity—expected it confidently and with intelligent anti-cipation. But he heard nothing at all. That is to say, he heard nothing ofwhat he expected. The clocks were ticking all right—ticking in a loud, ar-rogant, exasperating manner. And presently another went off, ringingwith a crude, deafening note that would have aroused acute irritation in adeaf man.
There was no doubt about it; the clocks had performed their part faith-fully. They did all and more than Mr. Murgatroyd had claimed for them.
But apparently they had met their match in Gerald Wade.
The syndicate was inclined to be despondent about it.
“The lad isn’t human,” grumbled Jimmy Thesiger.
“Probably thought he heard the telephone in the distance and rolledover and went to sleep again,” suggested Helen (or possibly Nancy).
“It seems to me very remarkable,” said Rupert Bateman seriously. “Ithink he ought to see a doctor about it.”
“Some disease of the eardrums,” suggested Bill hopefully.
“Well, if you ask me,” said Socks, “I think he’s just spoofing us. Of coursethey woke him up. But he’s just going to do us down by pretending that hedidn’t hear anything.”
Everyone looked at Socks with respect and admiration.
“It’s an idea,” said Bill.
“He’s subtle, that’s what it is,” said Socks. “You’ll see, he’ll be extra latefor breakfast this morning—just to show us.”
And since the clock now pointed to some minutes past twelve the gen-eral opinion was that Sock’s theory was a correct one. Only RonnyDevereux demurred.
“You forget, I was outside the door when the first one went off.
Whatever old Gerry decided to do later, the first one must have surprisedhim. He’d have let out something about it. Where did you put it, Pongo?”
“On a little table close by his ear,” said Mr. Bateman.
“That was thoughtful of you, Pongo,” said Ronny. “Now, tell me.” Heturned to Bill. “If a whacking great bell started ringing within a few inchesof your ear at half past six in the morning, what would you say about it?”
“Oh, Lord,” said Bill. “I should say—” He came to a stop.
“Of course you would,” said Ronny. “So would I. So would anyone. Whatthey call the natural man would emerge. Well, it didn’t. So I say that Pongois right — as usual — and that Gerry has got an obscure disease of theeardrums.”
“It’s now twenty past twelve,” said one of the other girls sadly.
“I say,” said Jimmy slowly, “that’s a bit beyond anything, isn’t it? I meana joke’s a joke. But this is carrying it a bit far. It’s a shade hard on theCootes.”
Bill stared at him.
“What are you getting at?”
“Well,” said Jimmy. “Somehow or other—it’s not like old Gerry.”
He found it hard to put into words just what he meant to say. He didn’twant to say too much, and yet—He saw Ronny looking at him. Ronny wassuddenly alert.
It was at that moment Tredwell came into the room and looked aroundhim hesitatingly.
“I thought Mr. Bateman was here,” he explained apologetically.
“Just gone out this minute through the window,” said Ronny. “Can I doanything?”
Tredwell’s eyes wandered from him to Jimmy Thesiger and then backagain. As though singled out, the two young men left the room with him.
Tredwell closed the dining room door carefully behind him.
“Well,” said Ronny. “What’s up?”
“Mr. Wade not having yet come down, sir, I took the liberty of sendingWilliams up to his room.”
“Yes?”
“Williams has just come running down in a great state of agitation, sir.”
Tredwell paused—a pause of preparation. “I am afraid, sir, the poor younggentleman must have died in his sleep.”
Jimmy and Ronny stared at him.
“Nonsense,” cried Ronny at last. “It’s—it’s impossible. Gerry—” His faceworked suddenly. “I’ll—I’ll run up and see. That fool Williams may havemade a mistake.”
Tredwell stretched out a detaining hand. With a queer, unnatural feel-ing of detachment, Jimmy realized that the butler had the whole situationin hand.
“No, sir, Williams has made no mistake. I have already sent for Dr.
Cartwright, and in the meantime I have taken the liberty of locking thedoor, preparatory to informing Sir Oswald of what has occurred. I mustnow find Mr. Bateman.”
Tredwell hurried away. Ronny stood like a man dazed.
“Gerry,” he muttered to himself.
Jimmy took his friend by the arm and steered him out through a sidedoor on to a secluded portion of the terrace. He pushed him down on to aseat.
“Take it easy, old son,” he said kindly. “You’ll get your wind in aminute.”
But he looked at him rather curiously. He had no idea that Ronny wassuch a friend of Gerry Wade’s.
“Poor old Gerry,” he said thoughtfully. “If ever a man looked fit, he did.”
Ronny nodded.
“All that clock business seems so rotten now,” went on Jimmy. “It’s odd,isn’t it, why farce so often seems to get mixed up with tragedy?”
He was talking more or less at random, to give Ronny time to recoverhimself. The other moved restlessly.
“I wish that doctor would come. I want to know—”
“Know what?”
“What he—died of.”
Jimmy pursed up his lips.
“Heart?” he hazarded.
Ronny gave a short, scornful laugh.
“I say, Ronny,” said Jimmy.
“Well?”
Jimmy found a difficulty in going on.
“You don’t mean—you aren’t thinking—I mean, you haven’t got it intoyour head—that, well I mean he wasn’t biffed on the head or anything?
Tredwell’s locking the door and all that.”
It seemed to Jimmy that his words deserved an answer, but Ronny con-tinued to stare straight out in front of him.
Jimmy shook his head and relapsed into silence. He didn’t see that therewas anything to do except just wait. So he waited.
It was Tredwell who disturbed them.
“The doctor would like to see you two gentlemen in the library, if youplease, sir.”
Ronny sprang up. Jimmy followed him.
Dr. Cartwright was a thin, energetic young man with a clever face. Hegreeted them with a brief nod. Pongo, looking more serious and spectacledthan ever, performed introductions.
“I understand you were a great friend of Mr. Wade’s,” the doctor said toRonny.
“His greatest friend.”
“H’m. Well, this business seems straightforward enough. Sad, though.
He looked a healthy young chap. Do you know if he was in the habit ofsmoking stuff to make him sleep?”
“Make him sleep.” Ronny stared. “He always slept like a top.”
“You never heard him complain of sleeplessness?”
“Never.”
“Well, the facts are simple enough. There’ll have to be an inquest, I’mafraid, nevertheless.”
“How did he die?”
“There’s not much doubt; I should say an overdose of chloral. The stuffwas by his bed. And a bottle and glass. Very sad, these things are.”
It was Jimmy who asked the question which he felt was trembling on hisfriend’s lips, and yet which the other could somehow or other not get out.
“There’s no question of—foul play?”
The doctor looked at him sharply.
“Why do you say that? Any cause to suspect it, eh?”
Jimmy looked at Ronny. If Ronny knew anything now was the time tospeak. But to his astonishment Ronny shook his head.
“No cause whatever,” he said clearly.
“And suicide—eh?”
“Certainly not.”
Ronny was emphatic. The doctor was not so clearly convinced.
“No troubles that you know of? Money troubles? A woman?”
Again Ronny shook his head.
“Now about his relations. They must be notified.”
“He’s got a sister — a half sister rather. Lives at Deane Priory. Abouttwenty miles from here. When he wasn’t in town Gerry lived with her.”
“H’m,” said the Doctor. “Well, she must be told.”
“I’ll go,” said Ronny. “It’s a rotten job, but somebody’s got to do it.” Helooked at Jimmy. “You know her, don’t you?”
“Slightly. I’ve danced with her once or twice.”
“Then we’ll go in your car. You don’t mind, do you? I can’t face it alone.”
“That’s all right,” said Jimmy reassuringly. “I was going to suggest it my-self. I’ll go and get the old bus cranked up.”
He was glad to have something to do. Ronny’s manner puzzled him.
What did he know or suspect? And why had he not voiced his suspicions,if he had them, to the doctor.
Presently the two friends were skimming along in Jimmy’s car with acheerful disregard for such things as speed limits.
“Jimmy,” said Ronny at last, “I suppose you’re about the best pal I have—now.”
“Well” said Jimmy, “what about it?”
He spoke gruffly.
“There’s something I’d like to tell you. Something you ought to know.”
“About Gerry Wade?”
“Yes, about Gerry Wade.”
Jimmy waited.
“Well?” he inquired at last.
“I don’t know that I ought to,” said Ronny.
“Why?”
“I’m bound by a kind of promise.”
“Oh! Well then, perhaps you’d better not.”
There was a silence.
“And yet, I’d like—You see, Jimmy, your brains are better than mine.”
“They could easily be that,” said Jimmy unkindly.
“No, I can’t,” said Ronny suddenly.
“All right,” said Jimmy. “Just as you like.”
After a long silence, Ronny said:
“What’s she like?”
“Who?”
“This girl. Gerry’s sister.”
Jimmy was silent for some minutes, then he said in a voice that hadsomehow or other altered:
“She’s all right. In fact—well, she’s a corker.”
“Gerry was very devoted to her, I knew. He often spoke of her.”
“She was very devoted to Gerry. It—it’s going to hit her hard.”
“Yes, a nasty job.”
They were silent till they reached Deane Priory.
Miss Loraine, the maid told them, was in the garden. Unless they wantedto see Mrs. Coker.
Jimmy was eloquent that they did not want to see Mrs. Coker.
“Who’s Mrs. Coker?” asked Ronny as they went round into the some-what neglected garden.
“The old trout who lives with Loraine.”
They had stepped out into a paved walk. At the end of it was a girl withtwo black spaniels. A small girl, very fair, dressed in shabby old tweeds.
Not at all the girl that Ronny had expected to see. Not, in fact, Jimmy’susual type.
Holding one dog by the collar, she came down the pathway to meetthem.
“How do you do,” she said. “You mustn’t mind Elizabeth. She’s just hadsome puppies and she’s very suspicious.”
She had a supremely natural manner and, as she looked up smiling, thefaint wild-rose flush deepened in her cheeks. Her eyes were a very darkblue—like cornflowers.
Suddenly they widened — was it with alarm? As though, already, sheguessed.
Jimmy hastened to speak.
“This is Ronny Devereux, Miss Wade. You must often have heard Gerryspeak of him.”
“Oh, yes.” She turned a lovely, warm, welcoming smile on him. “You’veboth been staying at Chimneys, haven’t you? Why didn’t you bring Gerryover with you?”
“We-er-couldn’t,” said Ronny, and then stopped.
Again Jimmy saw the look of fear flash into her eyes.
“Miss Wade,” he said, “I’m afraid—I mean, we’ve got bad news for you.”
She was on the alert in a moment.
“Gerry?”
“Yes—Gerry. He’s—”
She stamped her foot with sudden passion.
“Oh! tell me—tell me—” She turned suddenly on Ronny. “You’ll tell me.”
Jimmy felt a pang of jealousy, and in that moment he knew what up tonow he had hesitated to admit to himself. He knew why Helen and Nancyand Socks were just “girls” to him and nothing more.
He only half-heard Ronny’s voice saying bravely:
“Yes, Miss Wade, I’ll tell you. Gerry is dead.”
She had plenty of pluck. She gasped and drew back, but in a minute ortwo she was asking eager, searching questions. How? When?
Ronny answered her as gently as he could.
“Sleeping draught? Gerry?”
The incredulity in her voice was plain. Jimmy gave her a glance. It wasalmost a glance of warning. He had a sudden feeling that Loraine in herinnocence might say too much.
In his turn he explained as gently as possible the need for an inquest.
She shuddered. She declined their offer of taking her back to Chimneyswith them, but explained she would come over later. She had a two-seaterof her own.
“But I want to be—be alone a little first,” she said piteously.
“I know,” said Ronny.
“That’s all right,” said Jimmy.
They looked at her, feeling awkward and helpless.
“Thank you both ever so much for coming.”
They drove back in silence and there was something like constraintbetween them.
“My God! that girl’s plucky,” said Ronny once.
Jimmy agreed.
“Gerry was my friend,” said Ronny. “It’s up to me to keep an eye onher.”
“Oh! rather. Of course.”
On returning to Chimneys Jimmy was waylaid by a tearful Lady Coote.
“That poor boy,” she kept repeating. “That poor boy.”
Jimmy made all the suitable remarks he could think of.
Lady Coote told him at great length various details about the decease ofvarious dear friends of hers. Jimmy listened with a show of sympathy andat last managed to detach himself without actual rudeness.
He ran lightly up the stairs. Ronny was just emerging from GeraldWade’s room. He seemed taken aback at the sight of Jimmy.
“I’ve been in to see him,” he said. “Are you going in?”
“I don’t think so,” said Jimmy, who was a healthy young man with a nat-ural dislike of being reminded of death.
“I think all his friends ought to.”
“Oh! do you?” said Jimmy, and registered to himself an impression thatRonny Devereux was damned odd about it all.
“Yes. It’s a sign of respect.”
Jimmy sighed, but gave in.”
“Oh! very well,” he said, and passed in, setting his teeth a little.
There were white flowers arranged on the coverlet, and the room hadbeen tidied and set to rights.
Jimmy gave one quick, nervous glance at the still, white face. Could thatbe cherubic, pink Gerry Wade? That still peaceful figure. He shivered.
As he turned to leave the room, his glance swept the mantelshelf and hestopped in astonishment. The alarum clocks had been ranged along itneatly in a row.
He went out sharply. Ronny was waiting for him.
“Looks very peaceful and all that. Rotten luck on him,” mumbled Jimmy.
Then he said:
“I say, Ronny, who arranged all those clocks like that in a row?”
“How should I know? One of the servants, I suppose.”
“The funny thing is,” said Jimmy, “that there are seven of them, noteight. One of them’s missing. Did you notice that?”
Ronny made an inaudible sound.
“Seven instead of eight,” said Jimmy, frowning. “I wonder why.”
第三章 失败的玩笑
第三章 失败的玩笑
“十二点了！”袜子绝望地说道。
这个玩笑——如果说是个玩笑——并不成功。但另一方面，那些闹钟还是履行了它们的职责。它们一个个按时响起来，响得那么起劲，那么热烈。闹钟惊得罗尼•德弗卢从床上跳起来，迷迷糊糊地以为世界末日来临了。如果隔壁屋子里的人都惊成这样，那么离闹钟最近的人又会是什么样子？罗尼连忙来到外面的过道上，把耳朵贴在门缝上。
他以为会听到里头的咒骂声，而且预计到了会骂些什么。然而，他什么都没听到。也就是说，他的期待完全落了空。所有的闹钟都走得好好的，滴答声高亢雄浑，令人心烦意乱。又有一只闹钟响了，响声沙哑，震耳欲聋，就算是聋子听了也会跳起来。
毫无疑问，闹钟忠实地履行了它们的职责，效果之好，远远超出了默加特罗伊德先生的承诺。但对于这些闹钟来说，格里•韦德显然是个难缠的对手。
这群密谋者几乎要绝望了。
“那小子简直不是人！”吉米•塞西杰抱怨道。
“说不定他以为是远处的电话铃响，翻个身又睡着了。”海伦，也可能是南希，猜测着。
“我看这太不正常了，”鲁珀特•贝特曼一本正经地说道，“我想他应该去看看医生。”
“也许是鼓膜的毛病。”比尔显得很肯定。
“唉，要我说呀，”袜子说道，“他说不定是将计就计。他不可能听不到，只是假装什么也没听见，好让我们失望。”
每个人都用钦佩的目光看着袜子。
“有道理。”比尔答道。
“他很微妙，就是这个样子，”袜子说，“你们瞧好了，今天吃早饭他会来得特别晚——就是为了气气我们。”
现在已经十二点多了，大家都觉得袜子的说法有道理。只有罗尼•德弗卢提出了异议。
“你们忘了，第一个闹钟响的时候我就在门外，不管格里决定采取什么办法应对，他的第一反应应该是大吃一惊。他应该被惊动才对。黑猩猩，你把第一个闹响的闹钟放在什么地方？”
“就在离他耳朵不远的一张小桌子上。”贝特曼先生答道。
“你想得真周到，黑猩猩。”罗尼恭维了一句。接着，他转向比尔问道：“如果大清早六点半，你听到耳朵边几英寸远的地方响起惊天动地的铃声，你会说什么？”
“噢，天哪！”比尔说道，“我会说……”他没有再说下去。
“你当然会，”罗尼说，“我也会这么说。每个人都会。这是正常反应。可是他却没有。
所以我说呀，黑猩猩说得对——格里的鼓膜可能是有毛病。”
“现在十二点二十分了。”一个女孩子沮丧地说道。
“我看，”吉米缓缓地说道，“事情有点过头了，不是吗？玩笑归玩笑，但这样有点过分了。这会让库特夫妇感到难堪的。”
比尔盯着他。
“你想到了什么？”
“哦，”吉米答道，“不知道……这不像是格里的风格。”
他觉得只可意会，不可言传。他不想多说，但是，他发现罗尼正盯着自己。罗尼突然警觉起来。
正在这时，特雷德韦尔走进房间，他踌躇地四处看了看。
“贝特曼先生不在这里呀。”他抱歉地说道。
“他刚从这里出去了。”罗尼说，“有什么事要我做的吗？”
特雷德韦尔的目光从他身上移到了吉米•塞西杰身上，然后又看着罗尼。两人心领神会，跟着他走出房间。特雷德韦尔小心地把门关上。
“出什么事了？”罗尼问道。
“韦德先生还没有下来，先生。我就自作主张叫威廉斯到他房里瞧了瞧。”
“怎么啦？”
“威廉斯慌慌张张地跑下来，先生。”特雷德韦尔有意地顿了顿，“先生，恐怕那个可怜的年轻人一觉睡死了。”
吉米和罗尼瞪大了双眼。
“胡说！”罗尼终于喊了起来，“这……这不可能。格里……”他脸色倏然一变。“我……我自己去看看。威廉斯这个笨蛋肯定搞错了。”
特雷德韦尔一把拉住了他。吉米心头涌起一阵怪异的感觉，觉得这个管家已经把事情弄得一清二楚了。
“不，先生，威廉斯没弄错。我已经派人去请卡特赖特医生了，同时我也自作主张把房门锁上了，现在正准备通知奥斯瓦德爵士。我得去找贝特曼先生。”
特雷德韦尔匆匆离去。罗尼像个木头人似的站在那里。
“格里……”他喃喃自语。
吉米挽起他的朋友，带着他穿过一扇侧门，来到露台上一个偏僻的角落。吉米让他坐在一张椅子上。
“别紧张，老伙计，”他安慰道，“先歇一会儿。”
罗尼有点奇怪地看着他。吉米没想到罗尼跟韦德的交情会这么深。
“可怜的格里，”他若有所思地说道，“看上去多么健壮的一个人。”
罗尼点了点头。
“这个闹钟的玩笑开得太糟糕了。”吉米接着说道，“真奇怪，可不是吗？为什么闹剧常常跟悲剧扯在一起？”
吉米不着边际地说着话，好让罗尼缓过神来，但罗尼仍然坐立不安。
“我希望医生赶快来。我想知道……”
“知道什么？”
“他……是怎么死的。”
吉米抿了抿嘴。
“心脏病？”他随口猜道。
罗尼苦笑。
“听我说，罗尼。”吉米说道。
“嗯？”
吉米觉得很难再说什么。
“你该不会说……不会是在想……我是说，呃，不会是想他是被人打死的吧？特雷德韦尔把门给锁了，还叫了医生……”
吉米以为罗尼会搭腔，可是罗尼仍然直直地看着前面，一声不吭。吉米摇了摇头，不再说什么。除了等待，他不知道还能做什么。
特雷德韦尔走过来，打破了沉默。
“医生在书房，想见见两位，请吧，先生们。”
罗尼一跃而起。吉米紧跟其后。
卡特赖特医生身材削瘦，一看就知道是个精力充沛、聪明能干的年轻人。他微微点了点头，向他们打了个招呼。在一旁的黑猩猩显得比往常更严肃，他为双方作了介绍。
“据我了解，韦德先生生前您是他的好朋友。”医生对罗尼说道。
“是他最好的朋友。”
“嗯。这件事看起来很清楚，不过也够可怜的。他很年轻，也很健康。您知不知道他有睡觉前吃点什么帮助睡眠的习惯？”
“帮助睡眠？”罗尼睁大了眼睛，“他一向都睡得很熟。”
“您从没听他抱怨说睡不着觉吗？”
“从来没有。”
“但事实是明摆着的。不过，恐怕还是要再调查一下。”
“他怎么死的？”
“没什么好怀疑的，我觉得是氯醛服用过量。他床边就有这东西，还有一只瓶子和一只杯子。太遗憾了，这种事情……”
罗尼双唇颤抖着，说不出话来。还是吉米开口把他心中的疑问提了出来。
“不会有什么……蹊跷吧？”
医生用锐利的目光看着他。
“您为什么问这个？有什么怀疑的理由吗？”
吉米看了看罗尼。如果罗尼有什么线索，该是说出来的时候了。但是令他吃惊的是，罗尼摇了摇头。
“没有什么理由。”他回答得很清楚。
“那么是自杀？”
“当然不是。”
罗尼的回答很坚定，但医生不大相信。
“您知不知道他有其他什么麻烦？比如金钱？女人？”
罗尼再次摇了摇头。
“他的亲戚呢？得通知他们。”
“他有一个妹妹……应该说是同父异母的妹妹，住在迪恩小修道院，离这里大约二十英里。格里不在城里时就跟她住在一起。”
“哦，”医生说道，“呃，应该通知她。”
“我去吧，”罗尼说，“这不是什么好差事，但总得有人去。”他看了看吉米。“你认识她吧？”
“不是很熟。我跟她跳过一两次舞。”
“那么我们开你的车去。你不介意吧？我一个人应付不了。”
“没问题，”吉米向他保证说，“我正要这么说呢。我这就去把那辆破车发动起来。”
他很高兴自己有事可干。
但罗尼的态度令他困惑不已，他到底知道什么，或者在怀疑什么？为什么不跟医生说呢？
随后，两人坐进吉米的车子风驰而去，也不去理会什么限速的规矩了。
“吉米，”罗尼终于开口说道，“我想，你大概是我最好的朋友了——现在。”
“呃，”吉米说道，“那又怎么样？”
他嗓音粗哑地说道：“有件事我想告诉你。一件你应该知道的事。”
“关于格里•韦德？”
“是的，关于格里•韦德。”
吉米等着罗尼的下文。
“是什么？”他最后忍不住问道。
“我不知道该不该说。”罗尼说道。
“为什么？”
“我答应了不说的。”
“噢，既然这样，还是不说的好。”
两人沉默了一会儿。
“不过，我想……吉米，你的脑子比我好。”
“那还用说。”吉米毫不客气地说道。
“不，我不能说。”罗尼突然说道。
“好吧，”吉米说，“随你便。”
长时间沉默之后，罗尼说道：“她怎么样？”
“谁？”
“那个女孩，格里的妹妹。”
吉米沉默了几分钟，然后换了一种语气说道：
“她还好。实际上……呃，她很了不起的。”
“格里对她很有感情。他经常提起她。”
“她对格里也很有感情。这……这对她打击太大了。”
“是的，真不是什么好差事。”
之后，他们谁也没说话，直到抵达迪恩小修道院。
女仆告诉他们，洛兰小姐正在花园里。如果他们想见柯克太太倒是方便得很。
吉米赶忙说他们不是来找柯克太太的。
“柯克太太是谁？”当他们绕进那座有些荒芜的花园时，罗尼问道。
“跟洛兰小姐住一起的老太婆。”
他们走上一条铺着石子的小路。小路的尽头站着一个姑娘，手里牵着两条黑色长耳狗。这是一个娇小的女孩，皮肤非常白，身上穿着宽松的旧软呢衣服，一点也不像罗尼心中想象的样子。其实，她也不是吉米平常交往的那种女孩。
她拉住一条狗的项圈，迎了过来。
“你们好！”她说道，“千万不要怪罪伊丽莎白。它刚生了一窝狗崽，正是提防生人的时候。”
她的举止极为自然，当她抬头微笑时，双颊上淡玫瑰色的红晕更深了。她的眼睛是深蓝色的，就像矢车菊一般。
突然，她睁大了眼睛——是有了某种警觉吗？她好像猜中了他们的来意。
吉米连忙开口介绍：
“韦德小姐，这位是罗尼•德弗卢，您一定经常听格里提起他。”
“噢！是的。”她转过头，冲罗尼热情地一笑，表示欢迎。“你俩一定是从烟囱别墅来的吧？格里怎么没跟你们一起来？”
“呃……没办法来了。”罗尼说不下去了。
吉米又一次看到她眼中闪过一丝惊恐。
“韦德小姐，”他说道，“恐怕……我是说，我们有个坏消息要告诉您。”
她一下子紧张起来。
“格里？”
“是的……格里。他……”
她突然冲动地跺了跺脚。
“噢！告诉我……告诉我……”她突然转向罗尼，“你快告诉我。”
吉米内心掠过一丝嫉妒，这时他终于明白了一个自己迟迟不愿承认的事实：为什么海伦、南希和袜子对罗尼来说只不过是“女孩子”的原因。
模模糊糊地，他只听到罗尼鼓足勇气说道：
“韦德小姐，我要告诉您……格里死了。”
她显得很有勇气。她张大了嘴巴，但说不出话来，后退了一步，但一两分钟之后，她又急切地问了起来——怎么死的？是什么时候？
罗尼尽可能平静地回答了她的问题。
“安眠药？格里？”
很显然，她并不相信。吉米瞥了她一眼，近乎是警告。他突然觉得天真的洛兰可能话太多了。
轮到吉米时，他尽可能平静地解释有必要展开进一步的调查。她打了个哆嗦，不愿意跟他们一起回烟囱别墅，不过她解释说晚些时候会去。她有一辆双座跑车。
“我想……一个人静一静。”她近乎是在乞求。
“我能理解。”罗尼说道。
“好的，没关系。”吉米也答道。
他们看着她，虽然很尴尬，但又无能为力。
“谢谢你们过来告诉我。”
在回去的路上，他们都没有说话，好像彼此之间心存芥蒂。
“天哪！那姑娘真勇敢。”罗尼只说了一句。
吉米表示有同感。
“格里是我的朋友，”罗尼说道，“我有责任照顾她。”
“那是当然。”
他们不再说什么。
一回到烟囱别墅，吉米就被泪眼汪汪的库特夫人拦住了。
“可怜的孩子，”她不断地说着，“可怜的孩子。”
吉米想方设法来应付她。
库特夫人打开话匣子，向他细述她许多亡友的琐碎故事。吉米同情地听着，最后好不容易才脱身。
他轻快地跑上楼。罗尼正好从格里•韦德的房间里出来，见到吉米上来，他似乎吃了一惊。
“我刚进去看过，”他说，“你要进去吗？”
“还是不进去吧。”吉米答道。他是一个健康的年轻人，很自然对死亡非常反感。
“我觉得只要是朋友，都应该进去看看他。”
“是吗？”吉米应了一句，心想，罗尼•德弗卢是不是太大惊小怪了。
“没错，应该表示敬意。”
吉米叹了口气，屈服了。
“好吧。”他说着，走了进去，不自觉地咬紧了牙关。
床单上摆满了白色的鲜花，房间收拾得很整洁，有条不紊。
吉米紧张地瞄了一眼，那是一张静静的、没有血色的脸。这还是曾经双颊红润、可爱的格里•韦德吗——那一动也不动的躯体。他不禁哆嗦了一下。
当他转身要离开时，无意间看了一眼壁炉架，不禁惊愕地停住了脚步。所有的闹钟都整整齐齐地排成一排摆放在那里。
他快步走了出去，罗尼在外面等着他。
“他看上去很安详。真是糟透了。”吉米喃喃地说着，然后又问道，“对了，罗尼，谁把那些闹钟摆成那个样子的？”
“我怎么知道！大概是仆人吧，我想。”
“奇怪的是，”吉米接着说道，“上面只有七只，而不是八只闹钟。有一只不见了。你有没有注意到？”
罗尼含糊地应了一句。
“七只而不是八只，”吉米皱起了眉头，“为什么会这样？”
Four A LETTER
Four A LETTER

“Inconsiderate, that’s what I call it,” said Lord Caterham.
He spoke in a gentle, plaintive voice and seemed pleased with the adject-ive he had found.
“Yes, distinctly inconsiderate. I often find these self-made men are in-considerate. Very possibly that is why they amass such large fortunes.”
He looked mournfully out over his ancestral acres, of which he hadtoday regained possession.
His daughter, Lady Eileen Brent, known to her friends and society ingeneral as “Bundle,” laughed.
“You’ll certainly never amass a large fortune,” she observed dryly,“though you didn’t do so badly out of old Coote, sticking him for this place.
What was he like? Presentable?”
“One of those large men,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering slightly,“with a red square face and iron-grey hair. Powerful, you know. Whatthey call a forceful personality. The kind of man you’d get if a steamrollerwere turned into a human being.”
“Rather tiring?” suggested Bundle sympathetically.
“Frightfully tiring, full of all the most depressing virtues like sobrietyand punctuality. I don’t know which are the worst, powerful personalitiesor earnest politicians. I do so prefer the cheerful inefficient.”
“A cheerful inefficient wouldn’t have been able to pay you the price youasked for this old mausoleum,” Bundle reminded him.
Lord Caterham winced.
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word, Bundle. We were just getting awayfrom the subject.”
“I don’t see why you’re so frightfully sensitive about it,” said Bundle.
“After all, people must die somewhere.”
“They needn’t die in my house,” said Lord Caterham.
“I don’t see why not. Lots of people have. Masses of stuffy old great-grandfathers and grandmothers.”
“That’s different,” said Lord Caterham. “Naturally I expect Brents to diehere—they don’t count. But I do object to strangers. And I especially objectto inquests. The thing will become a habit soon. This is the second. You re-member all that fuss we had four years ago? For which, by the way, I holdGeorge Lomax entirely to blame.”
“And now you’re blaming poor old steamroller Coote. I’m sure he wasquite as annoyed about it as anyone.”
“Very inconsiderate,” said Lord Caterham obstinately. “People who arelikely to do that sort of thing oughtn’t to be asked to stay. And you may saywhat you like, Bundle, I don’t like inquests. I never have and I nevershall.”
“Well, this wasn’t the same sort of thing as the last one,” said Bundlesoothingly. “I mean, it wasn’t a murder.”
“It might have been—from the fuss that thickhead of an inspector made.
He’s never got over that business four years ago. He thinks every deaththat takes place here must necessarily be a case of foul play fraught withgrave political significance. You’ve no idea the fuss he made. I’ve beenhearing about it from Tredwell. Tested everything imaginable for finger-prints. And of course they only found the dead man’s own. The clearestcase imaginable—though whether it was suicide or accident is anothermatter.”
“I met Gerry Wade once,” said Bundle. “He was a friend of Bill’s. You’dhave liked him, Father. I never saw anyone more cheerfully inefficientthan he was.”
“I don’t like anyone who comes and dies in my house on purpose to an-noy me,” said Lord Caterham obstinately.
“But I certainly can’t imagine anyone murdering him,” continuedBundle. “The idea’s absurd.”
“Of course it is,” said Lord Caterham. “Or would be to anyone but an asslike Inspector Raglan.”
“I daresay looking for fingerprints made him feel important,” saidBundle soothingly. “Anyway, they brought it in ‘Death by misadventure,’
didn’t they?”
Lord Caterham acquiesced.
“They had to show some consideration for the sister’s feelings?”
“Was there a sister. I didn’t know.”
“Half sister, I believe. She was much younger. Old Wade ran away withher mother—he was always doing that sort of thing. No woman appealedto him unless she belonged to another man.”
“I’m glad there’s one bad habit you haven’t got,” said Bundle.
“I’ve always led a very respectable God-fearing life,” said Lord Cater-ham. “It seems extraordinary, considering how little harm I do to any-body, that I can’t be let alone. If only—”
He stopped as Bundle made a sudden excursion through the window.
“MacDonald,” called Bundle in a clear, autocratic voice.
The emperor approached. Something that might possibly have beentaken for a smile of welcome tried to express itself on his countenance,but the natural gloom of gardeners dispelled it.
“Your ladyship?” said MacDonald.
“How are you?” said Bundle.
“I’m no verra grand,” said MacDonald.
“I wanted to speak to you about the bowling green. It’s shockingly over-grown. Put someone on to it, will you?”
MacDonald shook his head dubiously.
“It would mean taking William from the lower border, m’lady.”
“Damn the lower border,” said Bundle. “Let him start at once. And Mac-Donald—”
“Yes, m’lady?”
“Let’s have some of those grapes in from the far house. I know it’s thewrong time to cut them because it always is, but I want them all the same.
See?”
Bundle reentered the library.
“Sorry, Father,” she said. “I wanted to catch MacDonald. Were youspeaking?”
“As a matter of fact I was,” said Lord Caterham. “But it doesn’t matter.
What were you saying to MacDonald?”
“Trying to cure him of thinking he’s God Almighty. But that’s an impos-sible task. I expect the Cootes have been bad for him. MacDonald wouldn’tcare one hoot, or even two hoots, for the largest steamroller that ever was.
What’s Lady Coote like?”
Lord Caterham considered the question.
“Very like my idea of Mrs. Siddons,” he said at last. “I should think shewent in a lot for amateur theatricals. I gather she was very upset about theclock business.”
“What clock business?”
“Tredwell has just been telling me. It seems the house party had somejoke on. They bought a lot of alarum clocks and hid them about this youngWade’s room. And then, of course, the poor chap was dead. Which madethe whole thing rather beastly.
Bundle nodded.
“Tredwell told me something else rather odd about the clocks,” contin-ued Lord Caterham, who was now quite enjoying himself. “It seems thatsomebody collected them all and put them in a row on the mantelpieceafter the poor fellow was dead.”
“Well, why not?” said Bundle.
“I don’t see why not myself,” said Lord Caterham. “But apparently therewas some fuss about it. No one would own up to having done it, you see.
All the servants were questioned and swore they hadn’t touched thebeastly things. In fact, it was rather a mystery. And then the coroner askedquestions at the inquest, and you know how difficult it is to explain thingsto people of that class.”
“Perfectly foul,” agreed Bundle.
“Of course,” said Lord Caterham, “it’s very difficult to get the hang ofthings afterwards. I didn’t quite see the point of half the things Tredwelltold me. By the way, Bundle, the fellow died in your room.”
Bundle made a grimace.
“Why need people die in my room?” she asked with some indignation.
“That’s just what I’ve been saying,” said Lord Caterham, in triumph. “In-considerate. Everybody’s damned inconsiderate nowadays.”
“Not that I mind,” said Bundle valiantly. “Why should I?”
“I should,” said her father. “I should mind very much. I should dreamthings, you know—spectral hands and clanking chains.”
“Well,” said Bundle. “Great Aunt Louisa died in your bed. I wonder youdon’t see her spook hovering over you.”
“I do sometimes,” said Lord Caterham, shuddering. “Especially after lob-ster.”
“Well, thank heaven I’m not superstitious,” declared Bundle.
Yet that evening, as she sat in front of her bedroom fire, a slim, py-jamaed figure, she found her thoughts reverting to that cheery, vacuousyoung man, Gerry Wade. Impossible to believe that anyone so full of thejoy of living could deliberately have committed suicide. No, the other solu-tion must be the right one. He had taken a sleeping draught and by a puremistake had swallowed an overdose. That was possible. She did not fancythat Gerry Wade had been overburdened in an intellectual capacity.
Her gaze shifted to the mantelpiece and she began thinking about thestory of the clocks. Her maid had been full of that, having just beenprimed by the second housemaid. She had added a detail which appar-ently Tredwell had not thought worthwhile retailing to Lord Caterham,but which had piqued Bundle’s curiosity.
Seven clocks had been neatly ranged on the mantelpiece; the last and re-maining one had been found on the lawn outside, where it had obviouslybeen thrown from the window.
Bundle puzzled over that point now. It seemed such an extraordinarypurposeless thing to do. She could imagine that one of the maids mighthave tidied the clocks and then, frightened by the inquisition into the mat-ter, have denied doing so. But surely no maid would have thrown a clockinto the garden.
Had Gerry Wade done so when its first sharp summons woke him? Butno; that again was impossible. Bundle remembered hearing that his deathmust have taken place in the early hours of the morning, and he wouldhave been in a comatose condition for some time before that.
Bundle frowned. This business of the clocks was curious. She must gethold of Bill Eversleigh. He had been there, she knew.
To think was to act with Bundle. She got up and went over to the writingdesk. It was an inlaid affair with a lid that rolled back. Bundle sat down atit, pulled a sheet of notepaper towards her and wrote.
Dear Bill,—
She paused to pull out the lower part of the desk. It had stuck halfway,as she remembered it often did. Bundle tugged at it impatiently but it didnot move. She recalled that on a former occasion an envelope had beenpushed back with it and had jammed it for the time being. She took a thinpaper knife and slipped it into the narrow crack. She was so far successfulthat a corner of white paper showed. Bundle caught hold of it and drew itout. It was the first sheet of a letter, somewhat crumpled.
It was the date that first caught Bundle’s eye. A big flourishing date thatleaped out from the paper. Sept. 21st.
“September 21st,” said Bundle slowly. “Why, surely that was—”
She broke off. Yes, she was sure of it. The 22nd was the day Gerry Wadewas found dead. This, then, was a letter he must have been writing on thevery evening of the tragedy.
Bundle smoothed it out and read it. It was unfinished.
“My Darling Loraine,—I will be down on Wednesday. Amfeeling awfully fit and rather pleased with myself allround. It will be heavenly to see you. Look here, do forgetwhat I said about that Seven Dials business. I thought itwas going to be more or less a joke—but it isn’t—anythingbut. I’m sorry I ever said anything about it—it’s not thekind of business kids like you ought to be mixed up in. Soforget about it, see?
“Something else I wanted to tell you—but I’m so sleepy Ican’t keep my eyes open.
“Oh, about Lurcher; I think—”
Here the letter broke off.
Bundle sat frowning. Seven Dials. Where was that? Some rather slummydistrict of London, she fancied. The words Seven Dials reminded her ofsomething else, but for the moment she couldn’t think of what. Instead herattention fastened on two phrases. “Am feeling awfully fit .?.?.” and “I’m sosleepy I can’t keep my eyes open.”
That didn’t fit in. That didn’t fit in at all. For it was that very night thatGerry Wade had taken such a heavy dose of chloral that he never wokeagain. And if what he had written in that letter were true, why should hehave taken it?
Bundle shook her head. She looked round the room and gave a slightshiver. Supposing Gerry Wade were watching her now. In this room hehad died .?.?.
She sat very still. The silence was unbroken save for the ticking of herlittle gold clock. That sounded unnaturally loud and important.
Bundle glanced towards the mantelpiece. A vivid picture rose before hermind’s eyes. The dead man lying on the bed, and seven clocks ticking onthe mantelpiece—ticking loudly, ominously .?.?. ticking .?.?. ticking .?.?.
第四章 一封信
第四章 一封信
“一点也不考虑别人，我觉得就是这样。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道。
他轻声说着，语气中略带哀伤，好像为自己的这种说法感到沾沾自喜。
“没错，确实不顾及别人。我发现成功的人常常不会为别人着想。很可能这就是他们能够大笔敛财的原因吧。”
他那忧郁的目光扫视着这片祖辈们曾经拥有、如今被重新收回的土地。
他的女儿艾琳•布伦特小姐——在社交圈里大家管她叫“邦德尔”，笑出声来。
“您肯定敛了不少横财，”她冷冰冰地说道，“虽然为了这块地，您从老库特那儿搜刮了不少钱，不过您还不错。他长什么样？还过得去吧？”
“是一个大块头，”凯特勒姆勋爵身子微微一颤，说道，“一张红红的四方脸，铁灰色的头发，显得强壮有力。他属于锋芒毕露的那种人，给人的感觉就像是蒸汽压路机。”
“让人觉得很累吗？”邦德尔同情地说道。
“极累，他那副德行令人压抑，比如自我节制啦、守时啦。个性强的人和一本正经的政客，我不知道哪一种人更坏，但我宁可喜欢那些没什么能力却很快活的人。”
“但没什么能力却很快活的人是付不起您想要的高价的。”邦德尔提醒道。
凯特勒姆勋爵皱了皱眉头。
“你最好不要再用这个字眼了，邦德尔。我们有点跑题了。”
“我不明白您为什么这么敏感。”邦德尔说道，“人总是要死在某个地方的。”
“但他们没必要死在我的房子里。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道。
“有什么不可以。很多人都死在这里，数不清的祖辈。”
“那不一样，”凯特勒姆勋爵说，“我当然希望布伦特家族的人能在这里寿终正寝——虽然他们不算。但我不愿意陌生人死在我的地盘上。而且，我尤其反对验尸。这种事情很快就会让人觉得习以为常，已经是第二次了。你还记得四年前的那次大麻烦吗 [1] ？顺便说一句，这完全是乔治•洛马克斯的错。”
“现在您又在怪可怜的蒸汽压路机老库特了。但我肯定，他和其他人一样，也在为这件事恼火。”
“太不为别人着想了，”凯特勒姆勋爵仍然很固执，“做这种事的人就不应该留下来。你想怎么说都可以，邦德尔，但我不喜欢验尸。我从没验过尸，也永远不想被别人验尸。”
“好吧，这次和上次不一样，”邦德尔安慰道，“我是说，这次不是谋杀。”
“难说——你没看到那个笨蛋警官大惊小怪的样子吗？四年前的案子他根本没忘。他以为这里发生的每一起死亡事件，背后都有非正常因素，而且都有政治背景。你不知道他多么喜欢小题大做。我听特雷德韦尔说，凡是想得到的东西他们都做过检查，看有没有指纹。当然，他们只找到死者自己的指纹。这个案子再明白不过了……当然，是自杀还是意外，那倒是另一回事。”
“我见过格里•韦德一次，”邦德尔说，“他是比尔的朋友。您要是见过他，说不定会喜欢上他的。爸爸，我从没见过有谁比他更加庸碌，但却如此快乐。”
“凡是跑来死在我的房子里、故意让我恼火的人，我一概不喜欢。”凯特勒姆勋爵固执地说道。
“不过，我实在想不出有谁会谋害他。”邦德尔接着说道，“这种说法实在是太荒唐了。”
“当然荒唐，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“或许只有笨蛋警官拉格伦是个例外。”
“也许找到指纹会让他觉得自己了不起，”邦德尔安慰道，“不管怎么说，他们还是认为这是‘意外死亡’，是不是？”
凯特勒姆勋爵默认了。“他们得顾及那个妹妹的感受。”
“还有个妹妹？我怎么不知道。”
“应该是同父异母的吧。她比她哥哥小多了。当年老韦德跟她妈妈私奔——他就是那种人，除了有夫之妇，他不喜欢别的女人。”
“您总算没沾染上这个坏毛病，我真为您高兴。”邦德尔说道。
“我从来都是敬畏上帝、循规蹈矩的，”凯特勒姆勋爵说，“从来不做伤天害理的事情，但我怎么就不得清静呢？但愿……”
他还没说完，邦德尔就突然出去了。
“麦克唐纳！”邦德尔以干脆、专横的口气喊道。
那位君王走了过来。他原本想挤出欢迎的微笑，然而这个园丁身上长久以来保持的阴郁却又把它驱赶得无影无踪。
“小姐，您在叫我吗？”麦克唐纳说道。
“你还好吗？”邦德尔说。
“我很好。”麦克唐纳回答道。
“我想跟你谈谈滚球场的事。那里的草长得太高太乱了。你能找个人去清理一下吗？”
麦克唐纳暧昧地摇摇头。
“那得把威廉从那边叫过来了，小姐。”
“去你的吧，”邦德尔生气了，“叫他马上动手。还有，麦克唐纳……”
“还有事吗，小姐？”
“去摘些葡萄过来。我知道现在还不是时候，但我还是想要。明白吗？”
邦德尔又回到书房。
“抱歉，爸爸，”她说道，“我想教训一下麦克唐纳。刚才您说到哪儿了？”
“没什么，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“你跟麦克唐纳说什么了？”
“我就想治治他，别总以为自己是老大，怎么可能！我猜库特夫妇可能镇不住他。麦克唐纳才不会买这个有史以来最大的蒸汽压路机的账呢！库特夫人长什么样？”
凯特勒姆勋爵想了想才回答。
“在我看来，她很像西登斯夫人。”他开口说道，“说不定她平时很喜欢学习演戏。这次闹钟事件应该给她很大打击吧。”
“闹钟事件？”
“特雷德韦尔刚才告诉我了，好像这次来度假的人开了个玩笑。他们买了很多闹钟，藏在韦德先生的房间里。当然，这个可怜的年轻人死了，结果，整个玩笑变得糟糕透了。”
邦德尔点了点头。
“关于那些闹钟，特雷德韦尔还说了一些更古怪的事，”凯特勒姆勋爵似乎有点津津乐道，“这个可怜的年轻人死后，好像有人把闹钟收集起来，在壁炉架上排成了一排。”
“哦，这有什么不可以呢？”邦德尔反问道。
“我也看不出来有什么不可以。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“但显然有人说三道四。没有人承认这么做过。查问过所有的仆人，但他们都发誓说没碰过那些鬼东西。这倒真是个谜。验尸官在调查时提出过很多问题。你知道的，对他们这种人来说，要把事情讲清楚得费多大的劲。”
“太困难了。”邦德尔表示赞同。
“当然，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“事后想弄清楚真相确实很难。特雷德韦尔跟我说的事情，我一大半都听不懂。对了，邦德尔，那家伙是死在你房间里的。”
邦德尔扮了个苦相。
“为什么有人要死在我的房间里呢？”她有点生气地说。
“刚才我要说的就是这个，”凯特勒姆勋爵有点得意地说道，“从不替人家想想。这年头每个人都这样。”
“我才不在乎呢，”邦德尔勇敢地说道，“有必要吗？”
“我会在乎的，”她父亲说道，“非常在乎。说不定会做噩梦，梦见鬼怪的手或者叮当作响的铁链什么的。”
“唉，”邦德尔揶揄道，“太姑婆不就是死在您的床上吗？您是不是看到过她的阴魂老是纠缠您？”
“有时候的确看到过，”凯特勒姆勋爵打了个哆嗦，“尤其是在晚上提到她之后。”
“哦，谢天谢地，我还不迷信。”邦德尔说道。
但是那天晚上，当她披着睡衣坐在卧室的炉火前，看着火光映照出自己的瘦削身影时，思绪不禁回到了那个快活却庸碌的年轻人格里•韦德的身上。这么一个喜爱生活的人竟然会自杀，简直叫人难以相信。看来另一种说法是对的：他在服用安眠药时，不小心过量了，这是有可能的。她不相信格里•韦德会有什么精神压力以至于自杀。
目光移到壁炉架上，她想起了那些闹钟的传闻。
有关那些闹钟，她的女仆知道的可多了，还告诉了她另外一个细节——显然特雷德韦尔认为没有告诉凯特勒姆勋爵的必要，但这却引起了邦德尔的好奇。
七只闹钟整整齐齐地摆放在壁炉架上，另外一只却在窗外的草地上被找到了，显然是有人从窗户扔出去的。
邦德尔对此百思不得其解。有什么目的呢？似乎是多此一举。她能想象某个女仆把这些闹钟重新整理好了，不过她又被前来调查的警官吓坏了，结果矢口否认做过这样的事。
但绝不可能有哪个女仆会把闹钟扔到花园里去。
会不会是格里自己被第一个闹钟吵醒之后扔出去的？不！这也不可能。邦德尔记得听人说过他是一大早死的，在死之前一定有一段时间处在昏迷之中。
邦德尔皱起了眉头。闹钟事件真是古怪。她必须找到比尔•埃弗斯利。他当时就在现场。
邦德尔是一个想到就会做到的人。她站起身来，走到写字台前。这是一张翻盖式书桌，翻开桌面，邦德尔抽出一张信纸写起来：
亲爱的比尔……
她停下笔，想把书桌下面的抽屉拉出来，拉了一半却被卡住了。邦德尔记得以前老是这样。
邦德尔不耐烦地拉了几下，但抽屉就是纹丝不动。她记得以前有一次是把一个信封推进去了，当时就卡住了。她取出一把薄薄的裁纸刀，把它插入细缝里。果然，一张纸的一角露了出来。邦德尔小心地抓住纸角，把它拉了出来。是一封信的第一页，已经有些皱了。
首先引起邦德尔注意的是信上的日期。几个大大的手写花体字映入眼帘：
九月二十一日
“九月二十一日，”邦德尔缓缓地说道，“啊，这不就是……”
她呆住了。没错。二十二日正是格里•韦德被发现死在床上的那天。那么，这封信一定是在悲剧发生的前一天晚上写的。
邦德尔把信纸铺平，开始读起来。信没有写完。
亲爱的洛兰，星期三我会过来。我身体很好，一切都很顺心。一想到就要见到你，我高兴极了。听着，跟你说的“七面钟”的事情，还是忘了吧。以前我觉得那多多少少是个玩笑，但不是，绝对不是，很抱歉我跟你说了这件事，但像你这样的女孩子是不应该被卷进来的。所以，还是把它忘了吧，好吗？
我还有别的一些事情要告诉你——但我太困了，眼睛都睁不开了。
哦，有关勒切尔，我想……
信写到这里就断了。
邦德尔皱起眉头。七面钟？这是什么地方？也许是伦敦的某个贫民窟吧，她想。七面钟这几个字勾起了她的回忆，但她一时也想不起来具体是什么。相反，信里面的两句话倒引起了她的注意：“我身体很好”、“我太困了，眼睛都睁不开了”。
这说不过去呀，完全对不上。因为就在那天晚上，格里服用了大量的氯醛，结果再也没有醒来。如果他信上写的是实话，为什么又要服用安眠药呢？
邦德尔摇了摇头。她环顾四周，不禁哆嗦了一下。想想看，格里此时可能正看着她呢。他就死在这个房间……
她静静地坐着。周围一片寂静，只有她那只金色小钟发出的“滴答”声。这声音听起来格外响亮，也格外不自然。
邦德尔扫了一眼壁炉架。她眼前浮现出一幅鲜活的场景：死去的人躺在床上，壁炉架上摆放着七个闹钟，它们嘀嘀答答地响着……听上去很不吉利……滴答……滴答……[1]这个故事参见阿加莎•克里斯蒂的另一部作品《烟囱别墅之谜》。
Five HE MAN IN THE ROAD
Five HE MAN IN THE ROAD

“Father,” said Bundle, opening the door of Lord Caterham’s special sanc-tum and putting her head in, “I’m going up to town in the Hispano. I can’tstand the monotony down here any longer.”
“We only got home yesterday,” complained Lord Caterham.
“I know. It seems like a hundred years. I’d forgotten how dull the coun-try could be.”
“I don’t agree with you,” said Lord Caterham. “It’s peaceful, that’s whatit is—peaceful. And extremely comfortable. I appreciate getting back toTredwell more than I can tell you. That man studies my comfort in themost marvellous manner. Somebody came round only this morning toknow if they could hold a tally for girl guides here—”
“A rally,” interrupted Bundle.
“Rally or tally — it’s all the same. Some silly word meaning nothingwhatever. But it would have put me in a very awkward position—havingto refuse—in fact, I probably shouldn’t have refused. But Tredwell got meout of it. I’ve forgotten what he said—something damned ingenious whichcouldn’t hurt anybody’s feelings and which knocked the idea on the headabsolutely.”
“Being comfortable isn’t enough for me,” said Bundle. “I want excite-ment.”
Lord Caterham shuddered.
“Didn’t we have enough excitement four years ago?” he demandedplaintively.
“I’m about ready for some more,” said Bundle. “Not that I expect I shallfind any in town. But at any rate I shan’t dislocate my jaw with yawning.”
“In my experience,” said Lord Caterham, “people who go about lookingfor trouble usually find it.” He yawned. “All the same,” he added, “Iwouldn’t mind running up to town myself.”
“Well, come on,” said Bundle. “But be quick, because ’m in a hurry.”
Lord Caterham, who had begun to rise from his chair, paused.
“Did you say you were in a hurry?” he asked suspiciously.
“In the devil of a hurry,” said Bundle.
“That settles it,” said Lord Caterham. “I’m not coming. To be driven byyou in the Hispano when you’re in a hurry—no, it’s not fair on any elderlyman. I shall stay here.”
“Please yourself,” said Bundle, and withdrew.
Tredwell took her place.
“The vicar, my lord, is most anxious to see you, some unfortunate con-troversy having arisen about the status of the Boys’ Brigade.”
Lord Caterham groaned.
“I rather fancied, my lord, that I had heard you mention at breakfastthat you were strolling down to the village this morning to converse withthe vicar on the subject.”
“Did you tell him so?” asked Lord Caterham eagerly.
“I did, my lord. He departed, if I may say so, hot foot. I hope I did right,my lord?”
“Of course you did, Tredwell. You are always right. You couldn’t gowrong if you tried.”
Tredwell smiled benignly and withdrew.
Bundle meanwhile was sounding the Klaxon impatiently before thelodge gates, while a small child came hastening out with all speed from thelodge, admonishment from her mother following her.
“Make haste, Katie. That be her ladyship in a mortal hurry as always.”
It was indeed characteristic of Bundle to be in a hurry, especially whendriving a car. She had skill and nerve and was a good driver; had it beenotherwise her reckless pace would have ended in disaster more than once.
It was a crisp October day, with a blue sky and a dazzling sun. The sharptang of the air brought the blood to Bundle’s cheeks and filled her with thezest of living.
She had that morning sent Gerald Wade’s unfinished letter to LoraineWade at Deane Priory, enclosing a few explanatory lines. The curious im-pression it had made upon her was somewhat dimmed in the daylight, yetit still struck her as needing explanation. She intended to get hold of BillEversleigh sometime and extract from him fuller details of the houseparty which had ended so tragically. In the meantime, it was a lovelymorning and she felt particularly well and the Hispano was running like adream.
Bundle pressed her foot down on the accelerator and the Hispano re-sponded at once. Mile after mile vanished, traffic was few and far betweenand Bundle had a clear stretch of road in front of her.
And then, without any warning whatever, a man reeled out of the hedgeand on to the road right in front of the car. To stop in time was out of thequestion. With all her might Bundle wrenched at the steering wheel andswerved out to the right. The car was nearly in the ditch—nearly, but notquite. It was a dangerous manoeuvre; but it succeeded. Bundle was almostcertain that she had missed the man.
She looked back and felt a sickening sensation in the middle of her ana-tomy. The car had not passed over the man, but nevertheless it must havestruck him in passing. He was lying face downwards on the road, and helay ominously still.
Bundle jumped out and ran back. She had never yet run over anythingmore important than a stray hen. The fact that the accident was hardlyher fault did not weigh with her at the minute. The man had seemeddrunk, but drunk or not, she had killed him. She was quite sure she hadkilled him. Her heart beat sickeningly in great pounding thumps, sound-ing right up in her ears.
She knelt down by the prone figure and turned him very gingerly over.
He neither groaned nor moaned. He was young, she saw, rather a pleas-ant-faced young man, well-dressed and wearing a small toothbrush mous-tache.
There was no external mark of injury that she could see, but she wasquite positive that he was either dead or dying. His eyelids flickered andthe eyes half-opened. Piteous eyes, brown and suffering, like a dog’s. Heseemed to be struggling to speak. Bundle bent right over.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes?”
There was something he wanted to say, she could see that. Wanted tosay badly. And she couldn’t help him, couldn’t do anything.
At last the words came, a mere sighing breath:
“Seven Dials .?.?. tell .?.?.”
“Yes,” said Bundle again. It was a name he was trying to get out—tryingwith all his failing strength. “Yes. Who am I to tell?”
“Tell .?.?. Jimmy Thesiger .?.?.” He got it out at last, and then, suddenly, hishead fell back and his body went limp.
Bundle sat back on her heels, shivering from head to foot. She couldnever have imagined that anything so awful could have happened to her.
He was dead—and she had killed him.
She tried to pull herself together. What must she do now? A doctor—thatwas her first thought. It was possible—just possible—that the man mightonly be unconscious, not dead. Her instinct cried out against the possibil-ity, but she forced herself to act upon it. Somehow or other she must gethim into the car and take him to the nearest doctor’s. It was a desertedstretch of country road and there was no one to help her.
Bundle, for all her slimness, was strong. She had muscles of whipcord.
She brought the Hispano as close as possible, and then exerting all herstrength, she dragged and pulled the inanimate figure into it. It was a hor-rid business, and one that made her set her teeth, but at last she managedit.
Then she jumped into the driver’s seat and set off. A couple of milesbrought her into a small town and on inquiring she was quickly directedto the doctor’s house.
Dr. Cassell, a kindly, middle-aged man, was startled to come into his sur-gery and find a girl there who was evidently on the verge of collapse.
Bundle spoke abruptly.
“I—I think I’ve killed a man. I ran over him. I brought him along in thecar. He’s outside now. I—I was driving too fast, I suppose. I’ve alwaysdriven too fast.”
The doctor cast a practised glance over her. He stepped over to a shelfand poured something into a glass. He brought it over to her.
“Drink this down,” he said, “and you’ll feel better. You’ve had a shock.”
Bundle drank obediently and a tinge of colour came into her pallid face.
The doctor nodded approvingly.
“That’s right. Now I want you to sit quietly here. I’ll go out and attend tothings. After I’ve made sure there’s nothing to be done for the poor fellow,I’ll come back and we’ll talk about it.”
He was away some time. Bundle watched the clock on the mantelpiece.
Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, twenty minutes—wouldhe ever come?
Then the door opened and Dr. Cassell reappeared. He looked different—Bundle noticed that at once—grimmer and at the same time more alert.
There was something else in his manner that she did not quite under-stand, a suggestion of repressed excitement.
“Now then, young lady,” he said. “Let’s have this out. You ran over thisman, you say. Tell me just how the accident happened?”
Bundle explained to the best of her ability. The doctor followed her nar-rative with keen attention.
“Just so; the car didn’t pass over his body?”
“No. In fact, I thought I’d missed him altogether.”
“He was reeling, you say?”
“Yes, I thought he was drunk.”
“And he came from the hedge?”
“There was a gate just there, I think. He must have come through thegate.”
The doctor nodded, then he leaned back in his chair and removed hispince-nez.
“I’ve no doubt at all,” he said, “that you’re a very reckless driver, andthat you’ll probably run over some poor fellow and do for him one ofthese days—but you haven’t done it this time.”
“But—”
“The car never touched him. This man was shot.”
第五章 倒在路上的人
第五章 倒在路上的人
“爸爸，”邦德尔打开凯特勒姆勋爵书房的房门，探头进去说道，“我要开西斯巴诺进城去。我再也受不了这里的单调沉闷了。”
“可我们昨天才回来呀。”凯特勒姆勋爵抱怨道。
“我知道，不过就好像过了一百年似的。我都忘了乡下是多么无聊！”
“我倒不觉得，”凯特勒姆勋爵说，“这里很安静，乡下就是这样，舒服极了。有特雷德韦尔伺候，我简直无法形容自己有多快活。他考虑得无微不至。今天早上有人来问，是不是可以在这里组织一个女童子军——”
“是联谊会。”邦德尔打断了她父亲的话。
“都一样，只是字眼不同而已。但这让我很尴尬，不得不拒绝。也许我不应该拒绝的。
好在特雷德韦尔帮我解了围，我不记得他是怎么说的了，反正说得很巧妙，既不伤别人，也很合我的心意。”
“但‘舒服’对我来说还不够，”邦德尔说道，“我需要刺激。”
凯特勒姆勋爵哆嗦了一下。
“四年前受的刺激还不够吗？”他几乎是在哀求了。
“我想要更多的刺激，”邦德尔说道，“倒不是说在城里就有刺激。但无论如何，我可不想待在这里打哈欠。”
“根据我的经验，”凯特勒姆勋爵回答道，“想惹麻烦的人一般会遇到麻烦。”他打了个哈欠。“不过，”他继续说道，“省得我自己到城里去了。”
“那好，我带您去，”邦德尔说，“不过要快点，我着急呢。”
凯特勒姆勋爵刚刚站起身，听到这话，又停住了。
“你说你急着走？”他狐疑地问道。
“急着呢！”邦德尔说。
“那好，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“我不去了。让你开西斯巴诺带着我赶路……才不，这对上了年纪的人不公平。我还是待在这里的好。”
“那就随您的便了。”邦德尔说完就转身走了。
特雷德韦尔又把头伸进来。
“老爷，牧师急着要见您，关于童子军的地位问题，有人有非议。”
凯特勒姆勋爵哼了一声。
“老爷，我好像听您说过，今天上午您打算到村子里去一趟，跟牧师谈谈这个问题。”
“你告诉他了？”凯特勒姆勋爵急忙问道。
“说过了，老爷。他赶忙就走了。希望我没做错，老爷？”
“当然没错，特雷德韦尔。你总是对的，只要你尽力，就不会办错事。”
特雷德韦尔温顺地微微一笑，转身走了。
与此同时，邦德尔正在大门口不耐烦地摁着汽车喇叭，一个小孩快速地从门房里冲了出来，跟在身后的母亲叫她小心车子。
“快点，凯蒂。大小姐又跟往常一样急得要命。”
匆匆忙忙是邦德尔的一贯作风，开车时尤其如此。她车技好，胆子又大，是个驾车好手；要不是这样，以她这种开车的风格，不知道要出多少事。
这是十月里的一个晴天，天空碧蓝碧蓝的，太阳亮得让人睁不开眼睛。空气中散发着浓郁的田野气息，令邦德尔双颊绯红，心中充满了对生活的热情。
那天早上，她已经把格里•韦德没写完的那封信寄给了他住在迪恩小修道院的妹妹洛兰•韦德，还补充了几句备注说明。在白天，那封信给她的古怪感觉不再那么强烈了，但她还是觉得这需要有个解释。她想找到比尔•埃弗斯利，要他说说那次以悲剧收场的聚会的详情。这是一个阳光明媚的上午，她感觉好极了，那辆西斯巴诺也跑得飞快。
邦德尔踩了一脚油门，西斯巴诺立刻就有了反应。一英里接一英里的公路被飞快地甩在身后，公路上车辆稀少，隔很远才见得到别的汽车，邦德尔的视野里总是一段长长的空旷道路。
但是，一个男子没有丝毫征兆地从路边的篱笆外冲上了公路，正好冲到了邦德尔的车前。及时刹车是不可能的了。邦德尔用尽全力猛打方向盘，西斯巴诺向右冲去，差点掉进了路旁的沟里。虽然极其危险，但好在成功了。邦德尔可以肯定没有碰到那个人。
她朝后看了一眼，有一种想呕吐的感觉。车子并没有从那个人身上碾过去，但想必还是把他挂倒了。那个男子脸朝下倒在路上，一动不动地趴在那里。
邦德尔赶忙跳出车子向后跑去。以前她顶多碾死过一只乱跑的母鸡，从没遇到什么严重的车祸。尽管这次车祸几乎不是她的责任，但此时她也顾不得了。那个男子似乎喝醉了，但是不管怎样，是她把他撞死了——她几乎肯定把他撞死了。她的心怦怦直跳，连自己都听得到。
她跪在那个人的身旁，战战兢兢地把他翻转过来。他既未呻吟也没说话。她发现这个人很年轻，眉清目秀，穿着也很考究，还留着一撮小胡子。
没有明显的伤痕，但她十分肯定他已经死了，或者就快要死了。他的眼皮微微颤动着，眼睛半睁，露出乞求和痛苦的神色，就像一只垂死的狗。他挣扎着似乎想说话。邦德尔俯下身来。
“什么？”她问道，“你想说什么？”
他的确想说什么，她看得出来，而且很想说出来。但她帮不上忙，只能干着急。
终于，他断断续续地说出了几个字，气若游丝：
“七面钟……告诉……”
“好，好的，”邦德尔急切地说。他正竭力想说出某个人的名字。“好，要我告诉谁？”
“告诉……吉米•塞西杰……”他终于说了出来，然后头突然往后一仰，身体瘫软下去。
邦德尔蹲在地上，浑身发抖。她从没想到这么可怕的事情会发生在自己身上。他死了——是她把他杀死了。
她强打精神。现在该怎么办呢？叫医生——这是她的第一个念头。或许……只是或许……这个人还没死，只是昏过去了。直觉告诉她这不可能，但她还是强迫自己这么想。
不管怎样，先把他弄上车，送到最近的医院再说。这是一条偏僻的乡间公路，找不到人来帮忙。
邦德尔虽然苗条，却很结实，也很有力气。她先把西斯巴诺尽可能开近些，然后竭尽全力把那毫无生气的躯体拖进了车里。这真是一件可怕的差事，她咬紧牙关，但还是做到了。
然后，她跳进驾驶座，一阵风地把车开走了。开了几英里，她来到了一个小镇，问过路之后，很快就找到了诊所。
卡斯尔医生是一个和善的中年人，得知消息后他赶忙跑到急救室，发现一个姑娘在那里，显然已经到了崩溃的边缘。
邦德尔突然开口说道：
“我……我想我杀了个人。我撞倒他了。我用车把他送过来了。他就在外面。我……我开得太快了。我总是开快车。”
医生用职业的目光打量了她一眼。然后，他走到一个药架前，把什么东西倒进杯子里，再递给她。
“先把它喝了，”他说道，“你会感觉好一点，你受惊了。”
邦德尔顺从地喝了下去，惨白的脸上开始有了血色。医生满意地点了点头。
“这就对了。现在我要你安静地坐在这里。我这就去看看。要是我确定那个可怜的家伙没救了，我会再回来，我们再接着谈。”
他离开了一段时间。邦德尔看着壁炉架上的钟，五分钟，十分钟，十五分钟，二十分钟……他怎么还不回来？
门开了，卡斯尔医生走了进来。他的神情有了变化，邦德尔一眼就看出来了，比刚才更严峻，也更加警觉了。他的举止中还有一些她不太明白的东西，好像在刻意压抑遭受的某种刺激。
“好了，这位小姐，”他开口说道，“我们好好谈谈吧。你说你撞倒了这个人？告诉我车祸到底是怎么发生的？”
邦德尔尽可能详细地叙述了事情的经过。医生很认真地听着。
“就是说，汽车并没有直接从他身上碾过去？”
“没有。其实我以为已经避开他了。”
“你说他当时走路摇摇晃晃？”
“对，我以为他喝醉了。”
“而且他是从路边的篱笆外冲出来的？”
“那儿有个门，我想他一定是从门里出来的。”
医生点了点头，然后身子往后一仰，靠在椅背上，摘下了夹鼻眼镜。
“我毫不怀疑，”他说道，“你是个非常鲁莽的司机，也许总有一天你真的会撞上某个可怜的家伙，然后把他送过来……但是这一次你没有。”
“可是……”
“车根本没碰到他。这个人是被枪杀的。”
Six SEVEN DIALS AGAIN
Six SEVEN DIALS AGAIN

Bundle stared at him. And very slowly the world, which for the last threequarters of an hour had been upside down, shifted till it stood once morethe right way up. It was quite two minutes before Bundle spoke, but whenshe did it was no longer the panic-stricken girl but the real Bundle, cool,efficient and logical.
“How could he be shot?” she said.
“I don’t know how he could,” said the doctor dryly. “But he was. He’s gota rifle bullet in him all right. He bled internally, that’s why you didn’t no-tice anything.”
Bundle nodded.
“The question is,” the doctor continued, “who shot him? You sawnobody about?”
Bundle shook her head.
“It’s odd,” said the doctor. “If it was an accident, you’d expect the fellowwho did it would come running to the rescue—unless just possibly hedidn’t know what he’d done.”
“There was no one about,” said Bundle. “On the road, that is.”
“It seems to me,” said the doctor, “that the poor lad must have been run-ning—the bullet got him just as he passed through the gate and he camereeling on to the road in consequence. You didn’t hear a shot?”
Bundle shook her head.
“But I probably shouldn’t anyway,” she said, “with the noise of the car.”
“Just so. He didn’t say anything before he died?”
“He muttered a few words.”
“Nothing to throw light on the tragedy?”
“No. He wanted something—I don’t know what—told to a friend of his.
Oh! Yes, and he mentioned Seven Dials.”
“H’m,” said Doctor Cassell. “Not a likely neighbourhood for one of hisclass. Perhaps his assailant came from there. Well, we needn’t worryabout that now. You can leave it in my hands. I’ll notify the police. Youmust, of course, leave your name and address, as the police are sure towant to question you. In fact, perhaps you’d better come round to the po-lice station with me now. They might say I ought to have detained you.”
They went together in Bundle’s car. The police inspector was a slow-speaking man. He was somewhat overawed by Bundle’s name and ad-dress when she gave it to him, and he took down her statement with greatcare.
“Lads!” he said. “That’s what it is. Lads practising! Cruel stupid, themyoung varmints are. Always loosing off at birds with no consideration foranyone as may be the other side of a hedge.”
The doctor thought it a most unlikely solution, but he realized that thecase would soon be in abler hands and it did not seem worthwhile tomake objections.
“Name of deceased?” asked the sergeant, moistening his pencil.
“He had a card case on him. He appeared to have been a Mr. RonaldDevereux, with an address in the Albany.”
Bundle frowned. The name Ronald Devereux awoke some chord of re-memberance. She was sure she had heard it before.
It was not until she was halfway back to Chimneys in the car that itcame to her. Of course! Ronny Devereux. Bill’s friend in the Foreign Of-fice. He and Bill and—yes—Gerald Wade.
As this last realization came to her, Bundle nearly went into the hedge.
First Gerald Wade — then Ronny Devereux. Gerry Wade’s death mighthave been natural — the result of carelessness — but Ronny Devereux’ssurely bore a more sinister interpretation.
And then Bundle remembered something else. Seven Dials! When thedying man had said it, it had seemed vaguely familiar. Now she knewwhy. Gerald Wade had mentioned Seven Dials in that last letter of hiswritten to his sister on the night before his death. And that again connec-ted up with something else that escaped her.
Thinking all these things over, Bundle had slowed down to such a soberpace that nobody would have recognized her. She drove the car round tothe garage and went in search of her father.
Lord Caterham was happily reading a catalogue of a forthcoming sale ofrare editions and was immeasurably astonished to see Bundle.
“Even you,” he said, “can’t have been to London and back in this time.”
“I haven’t been to London,” said Bundle. “I ran over a man.”
“What?”
“Only I didn’t really. He was shot.”
“How could he have been?”
“I don’t know how he could have been, but he was.”
“But why did you shoot him?”
“I didn’t shoot him.”
“You shouldn’t shoot people,” said Lord Caterham in a tone of mild re-monstrance. “You shouldn’t really. I daresay some of them richly deserveit—but all the same it will lead to trouble.”
“I tell you I didn’t shoot him.”
“Well, who did?”
“Nobody knows,” said Bundle.
“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “A man can’t be shot and run overwithout anyone having done it.”
“He wasn’t run over,” said Bundle.
“I thought you said he was.”
“I said I thought I had.”
“A tyre burst, I suppose,” said Lord Caterham. “That does sound like ashot. It says so in detective stories.”
“You really are perfectly impossible, Father. You don’t seem to have thebrains of a rabbit.”
“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham. “You come in with a wildly impossibletale about men being run over and shot and I don’t know what, and thenyou expect me to know all about it by magic.”
Bundle sighed wearily.
“Just attend,” she said. “I’ll tell you all about it in words of one syllable.”
“There,” she said when she had concluded. “Now have you got it?”
“Of course. I understand perfectly now. I can make allowances for yourbeing a little upset, my dear. I was not far wrong when I remarked to youbefore starting out that people looking for trouble usually found it. I amthankful,” finished Lord Caterham with a slight shiver, “that I stayedquietly here.”
He picked up the catalogue again.
“Father, where is Seven Dials?”
“In the East End somewhere, I fancy. I have frequently observed busesgoing there—or do I mean Seven Sisters? I have never been there myself,I’m thankful to say. Just as well, because I don’t fancy it is the sort of spot Ishould like. And yet, curiously enough, I seem to have heard of it in someconnection just lately.”
“You don’t know a Jimmy Thesiger, do you?”
Lord Caterham was now engrossed in his catalogue once more. He hadmade an effort to be intelligent on the subject of Seven Dials. This time hemade hardly any effort at all.
“Thesiger,” he murmured vaguely. “Thesiger. One of the YorkshireThesigers?”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Do attend, Father. This is important.”
Lord Caterham made a desperate effort to look intelligent without reallyhaving to give his mind to the matter.
“There are some Yorkshire Thesigers,” he said earnestly. “And unless Iam mistaken some Devonshire Thesigers also. Your Great Aunt Selinamarried a Thesiger.”
“What good is that to me?” cried Bundle.
Lord Caterham chuckled.
“It was very little good to her, if I remember rightly.”
“You’re impossible,” said Bundle, rising. “I shall have to get hold of Bill.”
“Do, dear,” said her father absently as he turned a page. “Certainly. Byall means. Quite so.”
Bundle rose to her feet with an impatient sigh.
“I wish I could remember what that letter said,” she murmured, more toherself than aloud. “I didn’t read it very carefully. Something about a joke,that the Seven Dials business wasn’t a joke.”
Lord Caterham emerged suddenly from his catalogue.
“Seven Dials?” he said. “Of course. I’ve got it now.”
“Got what?”
“I know why it sounded so familiar. George Lomax has been over. Tred-well failed for once and let him in. He was on his way up to town. It seemshe’s having some political party at the Abbey next week and he got awarning letter.”
“What do you mean by a warning letter?”
“Well, I don’t really know. He didn’t go into details. I gather it said ‘Be-ware’ and ‘Trouble is at hand,’ and all those sort of things. But anyway itwas written from Seven Dials, I distinctly remember his saying so. He wasgoing up to town to consult Scotland Yard about it. You know George?”
Bundle nodded. She was well-acquainted with that public-spirited Cab-inet Minister, George Lomax, His Majesty’s permanent Under Secretary ofState for Foreign Affairs, who was shunned by many because of his invet-erate habit of quoting from his public speeches in private. In allusion tohis bulging eyeballs, he was known to many—Bill Eversleigh among oth-ers—as Codders.
“Tell me,” she said, “was Codders interested at all in Gerald Wade’sdeath?”
“Not that I heard of. He may have been, of course.”
Bundle said nothing for some minutes. She was busily engaged in tryingto remember the exact wording of the letter she had sent on to LoraineWade, and at the same time she was trying to picture the girl to whom ithad been written. What sort of a girl was this to whom, apparently, GeraldWade was so devoted? The more she thought over it, the more it seemedto her that it was an unusual letter for a brother to write.
“Did you say the Wade girl was Gerry’s half sister?” she asked suddenly.
“Well, of course, strictly speaking, I suppose she isn’t—wasn’t, I mean—his sister at all.”
“But her name’s Wade?”
“Not really. She wasn’t old Wade’s child. As I was saying, he ran awaywith his second wife, who was married to a perfect blackguard. I supposethe Courts gave the rascally husband the custody of the child, but he cer-tainly didn’t avail himself of the privilege. Old Wade got very fond of thechild and insisted that she should be called by his name.”
“I see,” said Bundle. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Something that puzzled me about that letter.”
“She’s rather a pretty girl, I believe,” said Lord Caterham. “Or so I’veheard.”
Bundle went upstairs thoughtfully. She had several objects in view. Firstshe must find this Jimmy Thesiger. Bill, perhaps, would be helpful there.
Ronny Devereux had been a friend of Bill’s. If Jimmy Thesiger was afriend of Ronny’s, the chances were that Bill would know him too. Thenthere was the girl, Loraine Wade. It was possible that she could throwsome light on the problem of Seven Dials. Evidently Gerry Wade had saidsomething to her about it. His anxiety that she should forget the fact had asinister suggestion.
第六章 又是七面钟
第六章 又是七面钟
邦德尔呆呆地看着医生。天翻地覆了差不多一个小时的世界，现在又慢慢地恢复了原状。过了将近两分钟，邦德尔才开口说话，但此时她不再是那个惊慌失措的女孩子了，她又变成了正常的邦德尔：冷静，干练，富有理智。
“他是怎么被枪杀的？”她问道。
“我怎么知道，”医生干巴巴地回答道，“但的确是这样，他身体里有颗来复枪子弹，而且是内出血，所以从外面看不出来。”
邦德尔点了点头。
“问题是，”医生接着说道，“是谁开的枪？你没注意到附近有人吗？”
邦德尔摇了摇头。
“这就奇怪了，”医生说道，“如果是意外，应该有人跑出来救他才对……除非开枪的人不知道打到了人。”
“附近没有一个人，”邦德尔说，“我是说，路上没有人。”
“依我看，”医生说道，“那个可怜的家伙一直在跑，就在他跑到篱笆门口时，被子弹打中了，结果他就摇摇晃晃地冲到路上。你没听见枪声？”
邦德尔摇了摇头。
“我可能根本就听不见，”她说，“汽车的声音太大了。”
“有可能。他死之前没说什么话吗？”
“他断断续续地吐出了几个字。”
“没说清是什么情况吗？”
“没有。他想要我转告他的一个朋友，但到底转告什么我也不清楚。啊，对了，他提到七面钟。”
“嗯，”卡斯尔医生应了一声，“他不像是附近一带的居民。或许开枪的人是从那里来的。好了，现在我们不必为这事操心了。交给我来处理吧，我会通知警察的。当然，你必须留下姓名和住址，警察肯定会找你问话的。其实，你最好现在就跟我到警察局去一趟。
他们也许会说我应该把你留下来才对。”
他们坐上邦德尔的车，一起来到警察局。接待他们的是一个说话慢条斯理的警官。当他听到邦德尔的姓名和住址时，显得有些惊讶，然后非常仔细地记录下她说的每一句证词。
“肯定是那帮浑小子！”他说道，“就是这样。他们在练枪法！这帮无聊的蠢货！总是随便开枪打鸟，根本不考虑篱笆那边有没有人。”
医生觉得这种说法实在是太荒唐了，但转念一想，这个案子很快会有更能干的人来接手，所以也就没有提出异议。
“死者姓名？”警官一边问，一边用嘴舔着铅笔头。
“他身上有个名片夹，好像叫罗尼•德弗卢，住在奥尔巴尼。”
邦德尔皱起了眉头。罗尼•德弗卢这个名字让她想起了什么，她肯定听过这个名字。
直到开车回烟囱别墅的半路上，她才想起来死者是谁。没错！罗尼•德弗卢，就是比尔在外交部的朋友。他和比尔……对了……还有格里•韦德。
想到这里，邦德尔差点把车撞进路边的篱笆。先是格里•韦德，接着是罗尼•德弗卢。格里•韦德的死还有可能被说成是“不小心”，但罗尼•德弗卢之死显然含有更加可怕的成分。
然后，邦德尔又想起了别的什么。七面钟！当那个垂死的人说出这几个字时，她就觉得耳熟，现在她知道为什么了。格里•韦德在死之前的那个晚上给他妹妹写的最后一封信上就提到过。这又让她想起当初在读信时隐约浮现出的某件事。
邦德尔降低了车速，仔细琢磨着所有的事。车开得很慢，几乎没有人相信开车的会是她。她把车开进了车库，然后去找她的父亲。
凯特勒姆勋爵正饶有兴致地看着一份即将上市的善本名录，看到邦德尔进来，不禁大吃一惊。
“你这么快就从伦敦回来了？”
“我没去伦敦，”邦德尔答道，“我撞死了一个人。”
“什么？”
“其实没有撞到。他是被枪打死的。”
“怎么会？”
“我也不知道，但他真的是被枪打死的。”
“那你为什么要开枪？”
“我没有开枪。”
“你不该用枪打人，”凯特勒姆勋爵嗔怪道，“真的不应该。我敢说有些人活该挨枪子儿——但开枪总会惹上麻烦的。”
“我跟你说了我没有开枪。”
“哦，那又是谁呢？”
“谁知道呢。”邦德尔答道。
“胡说！”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“没有人开枪，又没有被车碾过，那这个人怎么可能被枪杀，被撞死呢？”
“他并没有被车碾到。”邦德尔说。
“我以为你说他被车碾到了。”
“我是说我以为碾到他了。”
“那就是爆胎了，我猜，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“爆胎的声音很像是枪声，侦探小说里就是这么写的。”
“真是拿您没办法，爸爸。您的智商好像连兔子都不如。”
“才不是呢，”凯特勒姆勋爵反驳道，“你一进门就说有人被汽车撞到了，又说挨了子弹，简直是天方夜谭。我又不是神仙，哪能什么都懂。”
邦德尔无奈地叹了口气。
“听好了，”她说道，“我再明明白白地告诉您一次。”
“就是这样，”邦德尔详述了事情的经过，她接着说道，“现在您明白了吧？”
“当然，我全明白了。刚才你可能还没有平静下来，亲爱的，这我可以原谅。看来，你动身之前我对你说的可没错，想惹麻烦的人一般都会遇到麻烦。”说到这里，凯特勒姆勋爵不禁打了个哆嗦，“谢天谢地，我安安静静地待在这里，哪儿也没去。”
他又拿起了刚才在看的善本名录。
“爸爸，七面钟在什么地方？”
“我猜可能是在伦敦东区的某个地方吧。我常常看到有公共汽车往那里开……会不会是我搞错了？应该是‘七姐妹’？谢天谢地，我从没去过那里，而且我肯定不会喜欢那里。不过奇怪的是，最近我好像听人说起过这个地方。”
“您该不会认识一个叫吉米•塞西杰的人吧？”
凯特勒姆勋爵专注地看着面前的名录。在说到七面钟时他还算比较热心，但这一次，他似乎没多少兴趣了。
“塞西杰，”他含糊地低声说道，“塞西杰。是约克郡的吗？”
“我正要问您呢。认真点，爸爸，这很重要。”
凯特勒姆勋爵作出一副冥思苦想的样子，其实他根本就没上心。
“约克郡是有一些姓塞西杰的，”他认真地说道，“如果没搞错的话，德文郡也有一些姓塞西杰的。你的姑太塞莉娜就嫁给了一个姓塞西杰的。”
“这对我有什么用呢？”邦德尔几乎大叫起来。
凯特勒姆勋爵轻声笑道：
“如果我没记错的话，嫁给那个塞西杰对她也没什么用处。”
“真是拿您没办法。”邦德尔站起来，“我还是去找比尔吧。”
“去吧，亲爱的。”她父亲翻了一页名录，心不在焉地说道，“好的，当然，可不是嘛。”
邦德尔不耐烦地叹了口气，站起身来。
“要是我能记住信的内容就好了，”她像是喃喃自语地说道，“我没仔细读。好像提到了一个玩笑，说什么七面钟不是开玩笑。”
凯特勒姆勋爵突然抬起头来。
“七面钟？”他说，“对！我想起来了。”
“想起什么了？”
“我说怎么这么耳熟呢。乔治•洛马克斯来过了。特雷德韦尔只犯了这一次错，没挡住，让他进来了。他正准备去城里，好像下个星期他要参加双足飞龙教堂举行的什么政治性聚会，而且他收到了一封恐吓信。”
“您说的恐吓信是什么意思？”
“哦，我真的不清楚，他也没细说。我记得好像有‘小心点儿’、‘麻烦就在眼前’之类的话。无论如何，这封信肯定是从七面钟寄来的，我记得他是这么说的。他正打算进城报告苏格兰场呢。你认识乔治吗？”
邦德尔点了点头。她非常熟悉这位热心公共事务的内阁部长乔治•洛马克斯，他还是国王陛下跟前负责外交事务的终身助理。很多人对他敬而远之，因为他有个改不掉的老毛病，就是在私下聊天时常常喜欢引用自己在公开演讲时说过的话。因为他的那对眼睛鼓得厉害，所以包括比尔•埃弗斯利在内的许多人都管他叫“老鳕鱼”。
“那么，”她说道，“老鳕鱼对格里•韦德的死有兴趣吗？”
“这倒没听说过。当然，也有可能。”
邦德尔沉默了几分钟。她在努力回忆寄给洛兰•韦德的那封信的确切内容，同时在想象这个女孩子的长相。显然，格里•韦德对她有着深厚的感情，那么这样的一个女孩该是副什么模样？她越琢磨，就越觉得这封哥哥写给妹妹的信非同寻常。
“您说那个姓韦德的姑娘是格里同父异母的妹妹？”她冷不丁地问道。
“哦，当然，但严格来说，我想她不是……我是说，以前不是……根本就不是他的妹妹。”
“可她也姓韦德呀？”
“她并不是真的姓韦德。她不是老韦德的孩子。我说过了，老韦德和他的第二任妻子是私奔的，她原先的丈夫是个十足的恶棍。当时法庭把孩子的监护权判给了她的前夫，但显然他没有行使这项权利。老韦德非常喜欢这个孩子，坚持要孩子随自己的姓。”
“我明白了，”邦德尔说，“这就清楚了。”
“清楚什么了？”
“那封信上令我不解的地方。”
“我想她长得挺漂亮的，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“我听别人说的。”
邦德尔心事重重地上了楼。现在，她有几件事要做。首先，她必须找到吉米•塞西杰，或许比尔也能帮得上忙。罗尼•德弗卢是比尔的朋友，如果吉米•塞西杰是罗尼的朋友，那么比尔就有可能认识他。还有就是那个女孩洛兰•韦德。她有可能提供一些有关七面钟的线索。显然，格里•韦德跟她说过什么事。他急于要她忘掉，这本身就有点不祥的味道。
Seven BUNDLE PAYS A CALL
Seven BUNDLE PAYS A CALL

Getting hold of Bill presented few difficulties. Bundle motored up to townon the following morning—this time without adventures on the way—andrang him up. Bill responded with alacrity and made various suggestions asto lunch, tea, dinner and dancing. All of which suggestions Bundle turneddown as made.
“In a day or two, I’ll come and frivol with you, Bill. But for the momentI’m up on business.”
“Oh,” said Bill. “What a beastly bore.”
“It’s not that kind,” said Bundle. “It’s anything but boring. Bill, do youknow anyone called Jimmy Thesiger?”
“Of course. So do you.”
“No, I don’t,” said Bundle.
“Yes, you do. You must. Everyone knows old Jimmy.”
“Sorry,” said Bundle. “Just for once I don’t seem to be everyone.”
“Oh! but you must know Jimmy—pink-faced chap. Looks a bit of an ass.
But really he’s got as many brains as I have.”
“You don’t say so,” said Bundle. “He must feel a bit top heavy when hewalks about.”
“Was that meant for sarcasm?”
“It was a feeble effort at it. What does Jimmy Thesiger do?”
“How do you mean, what does he do?”
“Does being at the Foreign Office prevent you from understanding yournative language?”
“Oh! I see, you mean, has he got a job? No, he just fools around. Whyshould he do anything?”
“In fact, more money than brains?”
“Oh! I wouldn’t say that. I told you just now that he had more brainsthan you’d think.”
Bundle was silent. She was feeling more and more doubtful. This gildedyouth did not sound a very promising ally. And yet it was his name thathad come first to the dying man’s lips. Bill’s voice chimed in suddenly withsingular appropriateness.
“Ronny always thought a lot of his brains. You know, Ronny Devereux.
Thesiger was his greatest pal.”
“Ronny—”
Bundle stopped, undecided. Clearly Bill knew nothing of the other’sdeath. It occurred to Bundle for the first time that it was odd the morningpapers had contained nothing of the tragedy. Surely it was the kind ofspicy item of news that would never be passed over. There could be oneexplanation, and one explanation only. The police, for reasons of theirown, were keeping the matter quiet.
Bill’s voice was continuing.
“I haven’t seen Ronny for an age—not since that weekend down at yourplace. You know, when poor old Gerry Wade passed out.”
He paused and then went on.
“Rather a foul business that altogether. I expect you’ve heard about it. Isay, Bundle—are you there still?”
“Of course I’m here.”
“Well, you haven’t said anything for an age. I began to think that youhad gone away.”
“No, I was just thinking over something.”
Should she tell Bill of Ronny’s death? She decided against it—it was notthe sort of thing to be said over the telephone. But soon, very soon, shemust have a meeting with Bill. In the meantime—“Bill?”
“Hullo.”
“I might dine with you tomorrow night.”
“Good, and we’ll dance afterwards. I’ve got a lot to talk to you about. Asa matter of fact I’ve been rather hard hit—the foulest luck—“Well, tell me about it tomorrow,” said Bundle, cutting him short ratherunkindly. “In the meantime, what is Jimmy Thesiger’s address?”
“Jimmy Thesiger?”
“That’s what I said.”
“He’s got rooms in Jermyn Street—do I mean Jermyn Street or the otherone?”
“Bring that class A brain to bear upon it.”
“Yes, Jermyn Street. Wait a bit and I’ll give you the number.”
There was a pause.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m always here.”
“Well, one never knows with these dashed telephones. The number is103. Got it?”
“103. Thank you, Bill.”
“Yes, but, I say—what do you want it for? You said you didn’t knowhim.”
“I don’t, but I shall in half an hour.”
“You’re going round to his rooms?”
“Quite right, Sherlock.”
“Yes, but, I say—well, for one thing he won’t be up.”
“Won’t be up?”
“I shouldn’t think so. I mean, who would be if they hadn’t got to? Look atit that way. You’ve no idea what an effort it is for me to get here at elevenevery morning, and the fuss Codders makes if I’m behind time is simplyappalling. You haven’t the least idea, Bundle, what a dog’s life this is—”
“You shall tell me all about it tomorrow night,” said Bundle hastily.
She slammed down the receiver and took stock of the situation. First sheglanced at the clock. It was five and twenty minutes to twelve. DespiteBill’s knowledge of his friend’s habits, she inclined to her belief that Mr.
Thesiger would by now be in a fit state to receive visitors. She took a taxito 103 Jermyn Street.
The door was opened by a perfect example of the retired gentleman’sgentleman. His face, expessionless and polite, was such a face as may befound by the score in that particular district of London.
“Will you come this way, madam?”
He ushered her upstairs into an extremely comfortable sitting roomcontaining leather- covered armchairs of immense dimensions. Sunk inone of those monstrosities was another girl, rather younger than Bundle.
A small, fair girl, dressed in black.
“What name shall I say, madam?”
“I won’t give any name,” said Bundle. “I just want to see Mr. Thesiger onimportant business.”
The grave gentleman bowed and withdrew, shutting the door noise-lessly behind him.
There was a pause.
“It’s a nice morning,” said the fair girl timidly.
“It’s an awfully nice morning,” agreed Bundle.
There was another pause.
“I motored up from the country this morning,” said Bundle, plungingonce more into speech. “And I thought it was going to be one of those foulfogs. But it wasn’t.”
“No,” said the other girl. “It wasn’t.” And she added: “I’ve come up fromthe country too.”
Bundle eyed her more attentively. She had been slightly annoyed atfinding the other there. Bundle belonged to the energetic order of peoplewho liked “to get on with it,” and she foresaw that the second visitorwould have to be disposed of and got rid of before she could broach herown business. It was not a topic she could introduce before a stranger.
Now, as she looked more closely, an extraordinary idea rose to herbrain. Could it be? Yes, the girl was in deep mourning; her black- cladankles showed that. It was a long shot, but Bundle was convinced that heridea was right. She drew a long breath.
“Look here,” she said, “are you by any chance Loraine Wade?”
Loraine’s eyes opened wide.
“Yes, I am. How clever of you to know. We’ve never met, have we?”
“I wrote to you yesterday, though. I’m Bundle Brent.”
“It was so very kind of you to send me Gerry’s letter,” said Loraine. “I’vewritten to thank you. I never expected to see you here.”
“I’ll tell you why I’m here,” said Bundle. “Did you know RonnyDevereux?”
Loraine nodded.
“He came over the day that Gerry—you know. And he’s been to see metwo or three times since. He was one of Gerry’s greatest friends.”
“I know. Well—he’s dead.”
Loraine’s lips parted in surprise.
“Dead! But he always seemed so fit.”
Bundle narrated the events of the preceding day as briefly as possible. Alook of fear and horror came into Loraine’s face.
“Then it is true. It is true.”
“What’s true?”
“What I’ve thought — what I’ve been thinking all these weeks. Gerrydidn’t die a natural death. He was killed.”
“You’ve thought that, have you?”
“Yes. Gerry would never have taken things to make him sleep.” She gavethe little ghost of a laugh. “He slept much too well to need them. I alwaysthought it queer. And he thought so too—I know he did.”
“Who?”
“Ronny. And now this happens. Now he’s killed too.” She paused andthen went on: “That’s what I came for today. That letter of Gerry’s yousent me—as soon as I read it, I tried to get hold of Ronny, but they said hewas away. So I thought I’d come and see Jimmy—he was Ronny’s othergreat friend. I thought perhaps he’d tell me what I ought to do.”
“You mean—” Bundle paused. “About—Seven Dials.” Loraine nodded.
“You see—” she began.
But at that moment Jimmy Thesiger entered the room.
第七章 邦德尔造访
第七章 邦德尔造访
要找到比尔并不是什么难事。第二天早上邦德尔就驱车进城，这一次路上没有再遇到什么惊险状况。到了城里之后，她给比尔打了个电话。热情的比尔邀请她一起吃午饭和喝茶，再一起吃晚饭，然后跳舞，但都被邦德尔一一回绝了。
“过一两天我再来陪你吧，比尔。目前我有正事要办。”
“噢，”比尔说道，“真是太没劲了。”
“此事非同小可，”邦德尔说道，“一点也不无聊。比尔，你认识一个叫吉米•塞西杰的人吗？”
“当然，你也认识的。”
“哦，我不认识。”邦德尔说。
“你一定知道的。每个人都认识他。”
“抱歉，”邦德尔说道，“我真的不认识他。”
“不，你肯定见过他——脸红红的，看起来有点傻，不过，实际上他跟我一样很聪明。”
“别这么说，”邦德尔嘲讽道，“他走起路来一定会觉得头重脚轻吧。”
“你不是在挖苦吧？”
“算不上。吉米•塞西杰是做什么的？”
“你说这话什么意思？”
“你在外交部工作，该不会连本国语言都听不懂了吧？”
“噢，我明白了，你是问他有没有工作？没有，他一天到晚瞎混。他为什么要找事做呢？！”
“这么说，他的钱袋里装的东西比脑袋里装的还多？”
“这个不好说，我只是告诉你，他比你想象的要聪明得多。”
邦德尔没有搭腔。她心里越来越没底了。这个叫吉米的纨绔子弟似乎和她不是一路人，但那个垂死的人首先讲出的名字却是他。恰在此时，比尔的声音传了过来。
“罗尼一向觉得他的脑子好使。你该知道罗尼•德弗卢吧，塞西杰是他最好的朋友。”
“罗尼……”
邦德尔又住口了，她不知道是否应该说出来。显然，比尔还不知道罗尼已经死了。邦德尔现在才觉得奇怪，为什么报纸上没有报道罗尼死亡的消息呢？报纸应该不会错过这种抢眼新闻的。只有一个解释，那就是警方把消息封锁了。为什么呢？
比尔接着说道：“我很久没见到罗尼了……还是上次在你家度周末时见过。你知道的，可怜的格里•韦德就是在那次聚会时死的。”
他顿了顿，接着说道：“那个周末太糟糕了，你应该听说过了吧。邦德尔……还在吗？”
“在呀。”
“哦，你不说话，我还以为你挂了呢。”
“没有，我刚才在想事儿。”
该不该把罗尼死去的事告诉比尔？她决定先不说——电话里也说不清。但是她必须尽快和比尔见一次面。同时……
“比尔？”
“在。”
“明天晚上我和你一起吃晚饭吧。”
“好啊，吃好饭我们再跳舞。我有很多话要跟你说。老实说最近我倒霉透了……”
“明天再说吧，”邦德尔不客气地打断了他的话，“现在，先告诉我吉米•塞西杰的住址吧？”
“吉米•塞西杰？”
“没错。”
“他住在杰明街……应该是杰明街吧？”
“动动脑子吧……”
“对，是杰明街。你等等，我去查一下门牌号。”
比尔放下了电话。
“还在吗？”
“一直听着呢。”
“哦，电话线路一直不稳定。门牌号是一〇三号。记住了吗？”
“一〇三号，记住了。谢谢你，比尔。”
“没事。不过……你要这个干什么？你不是不认识他吗？”
“我是不认识他，但过半个小时我就认识了。”
“你要去他那儿？”
“对，福尔摩斯先生。”
“呃，他可能还没起床呢。”
“还没起床？”
“多半这样吧。如果没必要起床，谁愿意起来？你不知道，每天早上十一点我要到这里，苦死了。要是迟到了，老鳕鱼可凶得很。你是一点儿也不知道，邦德尔，这种日子简直不是人过的……”
“你还是明天晚上再跟我说吧。”邦德尔赶忙说道。
她挂了电话，思忖了一下。她先看了看时间，现在是差二十五分十二点。虽然比尔熟悉他朋友的起居习惯，但她还是相信塞西杰先生现在能够会客了。她叫了一辆出租车，直奔杰明街一〇三号。
开门的是一位貌似深居简出的先生。他面无表情但彬彬有礼，一副伦敦那一带很常见的面孔。
“这边请，小姐。”
他把她引上楼，来到一间布置得极为舒适的宽敞客厅，里面摆放着铺有真皮的宽大椅子。已经有一个女孩坐在那里，她比邦德尔年轻，身材娇小，皮肤白皙，穿着一件黑色衣服。
“我该怎么称呼您，小姐？”
“名字不重要，”邦德尔答道，“我只是想见见塞西杰先生，有重要的事情。”
这位面色凝重的先生鞠了个躬，退了下去，在外面轻手轻脚地把门带上了。
客厅一下子静了下来。
“上午天气不错。”女孩子怯生生地说道。
“相当不错。”邦德尔表示赞同。
客厅里又陷入沉默。
“我是今天早上从乡下开车过来的，”邦德尔寻思着找了个话题，“我还以为今天又有大雾呢，还好没有。”
“是啊，没有起雾。”那个姑娘说道，接着又补充了一句，“我也是从乡下来的。”
邦德尔仔细地打量起她来。有另外一个人在场，令她有些不适应。邦德尔属于开门见山、单刀直入的那种人，她觉得先要把局外人支走才好谈正事，何况她要谈的事情不适合陌生人在场。
正细细打量着，突然，她脑子里冒出一个奇怪的念头。不会是她吧？
对啊，这个女孩穿着丧服，脚踝上还缠着黑布。尽管不一定那么巧，但邦德尔还是深信自己没错。她深深地吸了一口气。
“请问，”她开口说道，“您不会是洛兰•韦德吧？”
洛兰的眼睛一下子睁大了。
“没错，我就是。您猜得真准。我们以前见过吗？”
邦德尔摇了摇头。
“不过，我昨天给您写了封信。我是邦德尔•布伦特。”
“谢谢您费心把格里的信寄给我，”洛兰说道，“我已经给您回信了。真没想到会在这里见到您。”
“我告诉您我来这里的原因，”邦德尔说道，“您认识罗尼•德弗卢吗？”
洛兰点了点头。
“罗尼那天去找我……后来他又来过两三次。他是格里最要好的朋友。”
“我知道。不过……他死了。”
洛兰吃惊地张大了嘴巴。
“死了！可他看上去很精神呀。”
邦德尔一五一十地向她叙述了前一天发生的事情。洛兰的脸上浮现出惊恐的表情。
“那么是真的了……是真的了。”
“什么是真的？”
“这几个星期我一直在想这个问题，格里死得太不正常了。他是被谋杀的。”
“你是这样想的？”
“对。格里从来不吃什么药物帮助睡眠。”她惨然一笑，“他的睡眠质量好得很，根本不需要安眠药。我一直觉得这件事很蹊跷。他也是这么想的，我知道。”
“谁也这么想的？”
“罗尼。现在又发生了这种事，他又被杀了。”她顿了顿，接着说道，“我今天就是为这事来的。我读了你寄给我的信之后，就想找罗尼，但他们说他不在，所以我就想来找吉米……吉米也是罗尼的好朋友。也许他会告诉我该怎么做。”
“你是说……”邦德尔顿了顿，“关于七面钟？”
洛兰点了点头。
“你知道……”
她话音未落，吉米•塞西杰就走了进来。
Nine PLANS
Nine PLANS

Jimmy’s words lifted the discussion at once into a more practical sphere.
“All things considered,” he said, “we haven’t got much to go on. In fact,just the words Seven Dials. As a matter of fact I don’t even know exactlywhere Seven Dials is. But, anyway, we can’t very well comb out the wholeof that district, house by house.”
“We could,” said Bundle.
“Well, perhaps we could eventually—though I’m not so sure. I imagineit’s a well-populated area. But it wouldn’t be very subtle.”
The word reminded him of the girl Socks and he smiled.
“Then, of course, there’s the part of the country where Ronny was shot.
We could nose around there. But the police are probably doing everythingwe could do, and doing it much better.”
“What I like about you,” said Bundle sarcastically, “is your cheerful andoptimistic disposition.”
“Never mind her, Jimmy,” said Loraine softly. “Go on.”
“Don’t be so impatient,” said Jimmy to Bundle. “All the best sleuths ap-proach a case this way, by eliminating unnecessary and unprofitable in-vestigation. I’m coming now to the third alternative—Gerald’s death. Nowthat we know it was murder—by the way, you do both believe that, don’tyou?”
“Yes,” said Loraine.
“Yes,” said Bundle.
“Good. So do I. Well, it seems to me that there we do stand some faintchance. After all, if Gerry didn’t take the chloral himself, someone musthave got into his room and put it there—dissolved it in the glass of water,so that when he woke up he drank it off. And of course left the empty boxor bottle or whatever it was. You agree with that?”
“Ye—es,” said Bundle slowly. “But—”
“Wait. And that someone must have been in the house at the time. Itcouldn’t very well have been someone from outside.”
“No,” agreed Bundle, more readily this time.
“Very well. Now, that narrows down things considerably. To begin with,I suppose a good many of the servants are family ones—they’re your lot, Imean.”
“Yes,” said Bundle. “Practically all the staff stayed when we let it. All theprincipal ones are there still—of course there have been changes amongthe under servants.”
“Exactly — that’s what I am getting at. You”— he addressed Bundle—“must go into all that. Find out when new servants were engaged—whatabout footmen, for instance?”
“One of the footmen is new. John, his name is.”
“Well, make inquiries about John. And about the others who have onlycome recently.”
“I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “it must have been a servant. It couldn’thave been one of the guests?”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Who were there exactly?”
“Well, there were three girls—Nancy and Helen and Socks—”
“Socks Daventry? I know her.”
“May have been. Girl who was always saying things were subtle.”
“That’s Socks all right. Subtle is one of her words.”
“And then there was Gerry Wade and me and Bill Eversleigh and Ronny.
And, of course, Sir Oswald and Lady Coote. Oh! and Pongo.”
“Who’s Pongo?”
“Chap called Bateman—secretary to old Coote. Solemn sort of cove butvery conscientious. I was at school with him.”
“There doesn’t seem anything very suspicious there,” remarked Loraine.
“No, there doesn’t,” said Bundle. “As you say, we’ll have to look amongstthe servants. By the way, you don’t suppose that clock being thrown out ofthe window had anything to do with it?”
“A clock thrown out of the window,” said Jimmy, staring. It was the firsthe had heard of it.
“I can’t see how it can have anything to do with it,” said Bundle. “But it’sodd somehow. There seems no sense in it.”
“I remember,” said Jimmy slowly. “I went in to—to see poor old Gerry,and, there were the clocks ranged along the mantelpiece. I remember noti-cing there were only seven—not eight.”
He gave a sudden shiver and explained himself apologetically.
“Sorry, but somehow those clocks have always given me the shivers. Idream of them sometimes. I’d hate to go into that room in the dark andsee them there in a row.”
“You wouldn’t be able to see them if it was dark,” said Bundle practic-ally. “Not unless they had luminous dials—Oh!” She gave a sudden gaspand the colour rushed into her cheeks. “Don’t you see! Seven Dials!”
The others looked at her doubtfully, but she insisted with increasingvehemence.
“It must be. It can’t be a coincidence.”
There was a pause.
“You may be right,” said Jimmy Thesiger at last. “It’s—it’s dashed odd.”
Bundle started questioning him eagerly.
“Who bought the clocks?”
“All of us.”
“Who thought of them?”
“All of us.”
“Nonsense, somebody must have thought of them first.”
“It didn’t happen that way. We were discussing what we could do to getGerry up, and Pongo said an alarum clock, and somebody said one wouldbe no good, and somebody else—Bill Eversleigh, I think—said why not geta dozen. And we all said good egg and hoofed off to get them. We got oneeach and an extra one for Pongo and one for Lady Coote—just out of thegenerosity of our hearts. There was nothing premeditated about it—it justhappened.”
Bundle was silenced, but not convinced.
Jimmy proceeded to sum up methodically.
“I think we can say we’re sure of certain facts. There’s a secret society,with points of resemblance to the Mafia, in existence. Gerry Wade came toknow about it. At first he treated it as rather a joke—as an absurdity, shallwe say. He couldn’t believe in its being really dangerous. But later some-thing happened to convince him, and then he got the wind up in earnest. Irather fancy he must have said something to Ronny Devereux about it.
Anyway, when he was put out of the way, Ronny suspected, and he musthave known enough to get on the same track himself. The unfortunatething is that we’ve got to start quite from the outer darkness. We haven’tgot the knowledge the other two had.”
“Perhaps that’s an advantage,” said Loraine coolly. “They won’t suspectus and therefore they won’t be trying to put us out of the way.”
“I wish I felt sure about that,” said Jimmy in a worried voice. “You know,Loraine, old Gerry himself wanted you to keep out of it. Don’t you thinkyou could—”
“No, I couldn’t,” said Loraine. “Don’t let’s start discussing that again. It’sonly a waste of time.”
At the mention of the word time, Jimmy’s eyes rose to the clock and heuttered an exclamation of astonishment. He rose and opened the door.
“Stevens.”
“Yes, sir?”
“What about a spot of lunch, Stevens? Could it be managed?”
“I anticipated that it would be required, sir. Mrs. Stevens has made pre-parations accordingly.”
“That’s a wonderful man,” said Jimmy, as he returned, heaving a sigh ofrelief. “Brain, you know. Sheer brain. He takes correspondence courses. Isometimes wonder if they’d be any good to me.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Loraine.
Stevens opened the door and proceeded to bring in a most recherchémeal. An omelette was followed by quails and the very lightest thing insoufflés.
“Why are men so happy when they’re single,” said Loraine tragically.
“Why are they so much better looked after by other people than by us?”
“Oh! but that’s rot, you know,” said Jimmy. “I mean, they’re not. Howcould they be? I often think—”
He stammered and stopped. Loraine blushed again.
Suddenly Bundle let out a whoop and both the others started violently.
“Idiot,” said Bundle. “Imbecile. Me, I mean. I knew there was somethingI’d forgotten.”
“What?”
“You know Codders—George Lomax, I mean?”
“I’ve heard of him a good deal,” said Jimmy. “From Bill and Ronny, youknow.”
“Well, Codders is giving some sort of a dry party next week—and he’shad a warning letter from Seven Dials.”
“What?” cried Jimmy excitedly, leaning forward. “You can’t mean it?”
“Yes, I do. He told Father about it. Now what do you think that pointsto?”
Jimmy leant back in his chair. He thought rapidly and carefully. At lasthe spoke. His speech was brief and to the point.
“Something’s going to happen at that party,” he said.
“That’s what I think,” said Bundle.
“It all fits in, said Jimmy almost dreamily.
He turned to Loraine.
“How old were you when the war was on?” he asked unexpectedly.
“Nine—no, eight.”
“And Gerry, I suppose, was about twenty. Most lads of twenty fought inthe war. Gerry didn’t.”
“No,” said Loraine, after thinking a minute or two. “No, Gerry wasn’t asoldier. I don’t know why.”
“I can tell you why,” said Jimmy. “Or at least I can make a very shrewdguess. He was out of England from 1915 to 1918. I’ve taken the trouble tofind that out. And nobody seems to know exactly where he was. I think hewas in Germany.”
The colour rose in Loraine’s cheeks. She looked at Jimmy with admira-tion.
“How clever of you.”
“He spoke German well, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, like a native.”
“I’m sure I’m right. Listen you two. Gerry Wade was at the Foreign Of-fice. He appeared to be the same sort of amiable idiot—excuse the term,but you know what I mean—as Bill Eversleigh and Ronny Devereux. Apurely ornamental excrescence. But in reality he was something quite dif-ferent. I think Gerry Wade was the real thing. Our secret service is sup-posed to be the best in the world. I think Gerry Wade was pretty high upin that service. And that explains everything! I remember saying idly thatlast evening at Chimneys that Gerry couldn’t be quite such an ass as hemade himself out to be.”
“And if you’re right?” said Bundle, practical as ever.
“Then the thing’s bigger than we thought. This Seven Dials business isn’tmerely criminal—it’s international. One thing’s certain, somebody has gotto be at this house party of Lomax’s.”
Bundle made a slight grimace.
“I know George well—but he doesn’t like me. He’d never think of askingme to a serious gathering. All the same, I might—”
She remained a moment lost in thought.
“Do you think I could work it through Bill?” asked Jimmy. “He’s boundto be there as Codder’s right hand man. He might bring me along some-how or other.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Bundle. “You’ll have to prime Bill and makehim say the right things. He’s incapable of thinking of them for himself.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Jimmy humbly.
“Oh! It’s quite easy. Bill describes you as a rich young man—interestedin politics, anxious to stand for Parliament. George will fall at once. Youknow what these political parties are: always looking for new rich youngmen. The richer Bill says you are, the easier it will be to manage.”
“Short of being described as Rothschild, I don’t mind,” said Jimmy.
“Then I think that’s practically settled. I’m dining with Bill tomorrownight, and I’ll get a list of who is to be there. That will be useful.”
“I’m sorry you can’t be there,” said Jimmy. “But on the whole I think it’sall for the best.”
“I’m not sure I shan’t be there,” said Bundle. “Codders hates me likepoison—but there are other ways.”
She became meditative.
“And what about me?” asked Loraine in a small, meek voice.
“You’re not on in this act,” said Jimmy instantly. “See? After all, we’vegot to have someone outside to—er—”
“To what?” said Loraine.
Jimmy decided not to pursue this tack. He appealed to Bundle.
“Look here,” he said, “Loraine must keep out of this, mustn’t she?”
“I certainly think she’d better.”
“Next time,” said Jimmy kindly.
“And suppose there isn’t a next time?” said Loraine.
“Oh, there probably will be. Not a doubt of it.”
“I see. I’m just to go home and—wait.”
“That’s it,” said Jimmy, with every appearance of relief. “I thought you’dunderstand.”
“You see,” explained Bundle, “three of us forcing our way in might lookrather suspicious. And you would be particularly difficult. You do see that,don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Loraine.
“Then it’s settled—you do nothing,” said Jimmy.
“I do nothing,” said Loraine meekly.
Bundle looked at her in sudden suspicion. The tameness with which Lo-raine was taking it seemed hardly natural. Loraine looked at her. Her eyeswere blue and guileless. They met Bundle’s without a quiver even of thelashes. Bundle was only partly satisfied. She found the meekness of Lo-raine Wade highly suspicious.
Eight VISITORS FOR JIMMY
Eight VISITORS FOR JIMMY

We must at this point go back to some twenty minutes earlier, to a mo-ment when Jimmy Thesiger, emerging from the mists of sleep, was con-scious of a familiar voice speaking unfamiliar words.
His sleep-ridden brain tried for a moment to cope with the situation, butfailed. He yawned and rolled over again.
“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”
The voice was implacable. So prepared was it to go on repeating thestatement indefinitely that Jimmy resigned himself to the inevitable. Heopened his eyes and blinked.
“Eh, Stevens?” he said. “Say that again.”
“A young lady, sir, has called to see you.”
“Oh!” Jimmy strove to grasp the situation. “Why?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“No, I suppose not. No,” he thought it over. “I suppose you couldn’t.”
Stevens swooped down upon a tray by the bedside.
“I will bring you some fresh tea, sir. This is cold.”
“You think that I ought to get up and—er—see the lady?”
Stevens made no reply, but he held his back very stiff and Jimmy readthe signs correctly.
“Oh! very well,” he said. “I suppose I’d better. She didn’t give hername?”
“No, sir.”
“M’m. She couldn’t be by any possible chance my Aunt Jemima, couldshe? Because if so, I’m damned if I’m going to get up.”
“The lady, sir, could not possibly be anyone’s aunt, I should say, unlessthe youngest of a large family.”
“Aha,” said Jimmy. “Young and lovely. Is she—what kind is she?”
“The young lady, sir, is most undoubtedly strictly comme il faut, if I mayuse the expression.”
“You may use it,” said Jimmy graciously. “Your French pronunciation,Stevens, if I may say so, is very good. Much better than mine.”
“I am gratified to hear it, sir. I have lately been taking a correspondencecourse in French.”
“Have you really? You’re a wonderful chap, Stevens.”
Stevens smiled in a superior fashion and left the room. Jimmy lay tryingto recall the names of any young and lovely girls strictly comme il faut whomight be likely to come and call upon him.
Stevens reentered with fresh tea, and as Jimmy sipped it he felt a pleas-urable curiosity.
“You’ve given her the paper and all that, I hope, Stevens,” he said.
“I supplied her with the Morning Post and Punch, sir.”
A ring at the bell took him away. In a few minutes he returned.
“Another young lady, sir.”
“What?”
Jimmy clutched his head.
“Another young lady; she declines to give her name, sir, but says herbusiness is important.”
Jimmy stared at him.
“This is damned odd, Stevens. Damned odd. Look here, what time did Icome home last night?”
“Just upon five o’clock, sir.”
“And was I—er—how was I?”
“Just a little cheerful, sir—nothing more. Inclined to sing ‘Rule Britan-nia.’ ”
“What an extraordinary thing,” said Jimmy. “ ‘Rule Britannia,’ eh? I can-not imagine myself in a sober state ever singing ‘Rule Britannia.’ Some lat-ent patriotism must have emerged under the stimulus of — er — just acouple too many. I was celebrating at the ‘Mustard and Cress,’ I remem-ber. Not nearly such an innocent spot as it sounds, Stevens.” He paused. “Iwas wondering—”
“Yes, sir?”
“I was wondering whether under the aforementioned stimulus I had putan advertisement in a newspaper asking for a nursery governess or some-thing of that sort.”
Stevens coughed.
“Two girls turning up. It looks odd. I shall eschew the ‘Mustard andCress’ in future. That’s a good word, Stevens—eschew—I met it in a cross-word the other day and took a fancy to it.”
Whilst he was talking Jimmy was rapidly apparelling himself. At the endof ten minutes he was ready to face his unknown guests. As he opened thedoor of his sitting room the first person he saw was a dark, slim girl whowas totally unknown to him. She was standing by the mantelpiece, leaningagainst it. Then his glance went on to the big leather-covered armchair,and his heart missed a beat. Loraine!
It was she who rose and spoke first a little nervously.
“You must be very surprised to see me. But I had to come. I’ll explain ina minute. This is Lady Eileen Brent.”
“Bundle—that’s what I’m usually known as. You’ve probably heard ofme from Bill Eversleigh.”
“Oh, rather, of course I have,” said Jimmy, endeavouring to cope withthe situation. “I say, do sit down and let’s have a cocktail or something.”
Both girls declined.
“As a matter of fact,” continued Jimmy, “I’m only just out of bed.”
“That’s what Bill said,” remarked Bundle. “I told him I was cominground to see you, and he said you wouldn’t be up.”
“Well, I’m up now” said Jimmy encouragingly.
“It’s about Gerry,” said Loraine. “And now about Ronny—”
“What do you mean by ‘and now about Ronny?’ ”
“He was shot yesterday.”
“What?” cried Jimmy.
Bundle told her story for the second time. Jimmy listened like a man in adream.
“Old Ronny—shot,” he murmured. “What is this damned business?”
He sat down on the edge of a chair, thinking for a minute or two, andthen spoke in a quiet, level voice.
“There’s something I think I ought to tell you.”
“Yes,” said Bundle encouragingly.
“It was on the day Gerry Wade died. On the way over to break the newsto you”—he nodded at Loraine—“in the car Ronny said something to me.
That is to say, he started to tell me something. There was something hewanted to tell me, and he began about it, and then he said he was boundby a promise and couldn’t go on.”
“Bound by a promise,” said Loraine thoughtfully.
“That’s what he said. Naturally I didn’t press him after that. But he wasodd—damned odd—all through. I got the impression then that he suspec-ted—well, foul play. I thought he’d tell the doctor so. But no, not even ahint. So I thought I’d been mistaken. And afterwards, with the evidenceand all—well, it seemed such a very clear case. I thought my suspicionshad been all bosh.”
“But you think Ronny still suspected?” asked Bundle.
Jimmy nodded.
“That’s what I think now. Why, none of us have seen anything of himsince. I believe he was playing a lone hand—trying to find out the truthabout Gerry’s death, and what’s more, I believe he did find out. That’s whythe devils shot him. And then he tried to send word to me, but could onlyget out those two words.”
“Seven Dials,” said Bundle, and shivered a little.
“Seven Dials,” said Jimmy gravely. “At any rate we’ve got that to go onwith.”
Bundle turned to Loraine.
“You were just going to tell me—”
“Oh! yes. First, about the letter.” She spoke to Jimmy. “Gerry left a letter.
Lady Eileen—”
“Bundle.”
“Bundle found it.” She explained the circumstances in a few words.
Jimmy listened, keenly interested. This was the first he had heard of theletter. Loraine took it from her bag and handed it to him. He read it, thenlooked across at her.
“This is where you can help us. What was it Gerry wanted you to for-get?”
Loraine’s brows wrinkled a little in perplexity.
“It’s so hard to remember exactly now. I opened a letter of Gerry’s bymistake. It was written on cheap sort of paper, I remember, and very illit-erate handwriting. It had some address in Seven Dials at the head of it. Irealized it wasn’t for me, so I put it back in the envelope without readingit.”
“Sure?” asked Jimmy very gently.
Loraine laughed for the first time.
“I know what you think, and I admit that women are curious. But, yousee, this didn’t even look interesting. It was a kind of list of names anddates.”
“Names and dates,” said Jimmy thoughtfully.
“Gerry didn’t seem to mind much,” continued Loraine. “He laughed. Heasked me if I had ever heard of the Mafia, and then said it would be queerif a society like the Mafia started in England—but that that kind of secretsociety didn’t take on much with English people. ‘Our criminals,’ he said,‘haven’t got a picturesque imagination.’ ”
Jimmy pursued up his lips into a whistle.
“I’m beginning to see,” he said. “Seven Dials must be the headquartersfor some secret society. As he says in his letter to you. He thought it rathera joke to start with. But evidently it wasn’t a joke—he says as much. Andthere’s something else: his anxiety that you should forget what he’s toldyou. There can be only one reason for that—if that society suspected thatyou had any knowledge of its activity, you too would be in danger. Geraldrealized the peril, and he was terribly anxious—for you.”
He stopped, then he went on quietly:
“I rather fancy that we’re all going to be in danger—if we go on withthis.”
“If—?” cried Bundle indignantly.
“I’m talking of you two. It’s different for me. I was poor old Ronny’s pal.”
He looked at Bundle. “You’ve done your bit. You’ve delivered the messagehe sent me. No; for God’s sake keep out of it, you and Loraine.”
Bundle looked questioningly at the other girl. Her own mind was defin-itely made up, but she gave no indication of it just then. She had no wishto push Loraine Wade into a dangerous undertaking.
But Loraine’s small face was alight at once with indignation.
“You say that! Do you think for one minute I’d be contented to keep outof it—when they killed Gerry—my own dear Gerry, the best and dearestand kindest brother any girl ever had. The only person belonging to me Ihad in the whole world!”
Jimmy cleared his throat uncomfortably. Loraine, he thought, was won-derful; simply wonderful.
“Look here,” he said awkwardly. “You mustn’t say that. About beingalone in the world—all that rot. You’ve got lots of friends—only too glad todo what they can. See what I mean?”
It is possible that Loraine did, for she suddenly blushed, and to coverher confusion began to talk nervously.
“That’s settled,” she said. “I’m going to help. Nobody’s going to stop me.”
“And so am I, of course,” said Bundle.
They both looked at Jimmy.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, quite so.”
They looked at him inquiringly.
“I was just wondering,” said Jimmy, “how we were going to begin.”
第八章 吉米的访客
第八章 吉米的访客
我们必须回到大约二十分钟之前。吉米•塞西杰迷迷糊糊地从睡梦中醒来，听到一个熟悉的声音在对他讲一些不熟悉的事情。
他仍然睡意甚浓，虽然努力想思考一下到底是怎么回事，但打了个哈欠之后，翻身又准备接着入睡。
“先生，有位年轻的女士想见您。”
这句话就像说不完一样，不断地重复着。迫于无奈，吉米•塞西杰只好睁开眼睛，眨了眨。
“啊，是史蒂文斯吗？”他说道，“你再说一遍。”
“先生，有位年轻的女士想见您。”
“哦！”吉米想搞清楚是怎么回事，“有什么事吗？”
“我说不上来，先生。”
“嗯，我想也是，”他想了想，“我想你也是说不上来。”
史蒂文斯猛地一下子抓起了床边的一只托盘。
“我去给您换点茶来，先生。这个凉了。”
“你觉得我应该起床……呃……去见那位女士？”
史蒂文斯没有回答，不过他的背挺得直直的，吉米看出了他的意思。
“好吧，”他说，“我还是去见见吧。她叫什么？”
“她没说，先生。”
“嗯，该不是我的姑妈杰迈玛吧？如果是她，我可就完了。”
“那位女士不可能是别人的姑妈，先生。除非大家庭里有很小的小孩。”
“啊哈！”吉米说道，“年轻又可爱。她……她长什么样？”
“是一位年轻女士，无疑很有教养。”史蒂文斯用法语说出了“有教养”三个字。
“不错啊，”吉米亲切地说道，“你的法语发音非常好，史蒂文斯，比我强多了。”
“不胜荣幸，先生。最近我在学习函授法语。”
“真的？你真了不起，史蒂文斯。”
史蒂文斯得意地笑了笑，然后离开了房间。吉米躺在床上，试图猜出会是哪个年轻可爱、举止文雅的女孩来找他。
史蒂文斯端着新泡的茶又进来了。吉米呷了一口，舒服极了。
“史蒂文斯，我希望你已经给了她报纸之类的吧。”他说道。
“我给了她《晨报》和《笨拙》杂志，先生。”
这时门铃响了，史蒂文斯走了出去。几分钟之后，他又回到房间。
“又是一位年轻的女士，先生。”
“什么？”
吉米挠了挠头。
“又是一位年轻的女士，她不愿说自己的名字，先生，但是说事情很重要。”
吉米睁大眼睛盯着他。
“太奇怪了，史蒂文斯，真是太奇怪了。对了，昨天晚上我是几点回来的？”
“快凌晨五点了，先生。”
“当时……呃……当时我怎么样？”
“有点儿兴奋，先生……没什么别的了，还唱着《大不列颠颂》。”
“太奇怪了，”吉米说道，“《大不列颠颂》？没喝醉酒我会唱这首歌？一定是……呃……多喝了几杯，激发了我的爱国热情。我记得在‘芥未和水芹’酒吧畅饮了一阵子。听起来这个地方不太正经，但其实不是，史蒂文斯。”
他顿了顿，接着说道：“我在想……”
“想什么，先生？”
“我在想，我是不是在那种状态下在报纸上登了个广告，要招聘看孩子的保姆之类的。”
史蒂文斯咳了几声。
“同时来两个女孩，真奇怪。看来以后我要避开那家酒吧了。避开……这个词不错，史蒂文斯，上次我在做填字游戏时碰到的，当时我就觉得是个好词。”
吉米一边说着一边收拾，十分钟之后，他就准备好要去见这两位不速之客了。他打开客厅的门，首先看到的是一个皮肤微黑、身材苗条的姑娘。他完全不认识。她靠着壁炉台。然后，他的目光移到铺着真皮的宽大扶手椅上，他的心猛地一跳。是洛兰！
洛兰首先站起来，略带紧张地说道：
“你肯定没想到我会来吧。但我不得不来，待会儿我会解释的。这位是艾琳•布伦特小姐。”
“邦德尔……人家都这样叫我。你可能听比尔•埃弗斯利提到过我。”
“噢，是的，他当然说起过你，”吉米忙不迭地回应道，“来，坐，坐！我们喝点鸡尾酒什么的吧。”
两个女孩都谢绝了。
“抱歉，”吉米接着说道，“我才起床。”
“比尔说得没错，”邦德尔说道，“我跟他说我要找你，他说你准没起床呢。”
“但我现在不是起来了吗？”吉米摆出很精神的样子。
“我们来是为了格里的事，”洛兰说到，“还有罗尼……”
“还有罗尼？什么意思？”
“他昨天被人开枪打死了。”
“什么？”吉米大叫道。
邦德尔又把事情的经过说了一遍。吉米神情恍惚地听着，就好像还在做梦。
“罗尼被枪杀了，”他喃喃自语，“这到底是怎么回事？”
他坐在椅子边上，想了一两分钟，然后平静地说道：
“有件事情我该告诉你们。”
“什么事？”邦德尔一下子提起了精神。
“就在格里•韦德死的那天，我们去给你报信的路上，”他冲洛兰点了点头，“罗尼在车上跟我说了些事。准确地说，是他想要告诉我一些事。他开了个头，但又说他答应别人不说的。”
“答应了别人？”洛兰若有所思地说道。
“他是这么说的。当然，我没有强迫他说出来，但那天他一直怪怪的，太怪了。我觉得他在怀疑什么。原本我以为他会告诉医生的，可是他没有，连一点暗示都没有。所以，也有可能是我弄错了。后来经过调查，证明这个案子实在是太清楚了，看来当初我的怀疑是没有根据的。”
“但你认为罗尼仍有所怀疑？”邦德尔问道。
吉米点了点头。
“我现在就是这么想的。为什么从那以后我们都没有再见到他？我相信他是一个人在暗自调查，想搞清楚格里的真正死因；而且，我相信他有所发现，所以那帮浑蛋才杀人灭口。临死他想传话给我，但只能说出几个字。”
“七面钟。”邦德尔微微哆嗦了一下。
“七面钟。”吉米表情严肃地说道，“无论如何，我们可以从这里入手。”
邦德尔转向洛兰：
“你刚才要告诉我……”
“哦，对了。先是这封信。”她对吉米说道，“格里留下了一封信。艾琳小姐……”
“叫我邦德尔吧。”
“是邦德尔发现的。”洛兰三言两语地叙述了事情的经过。
吉米饶有兴味地听着。他还是第一次听说有这封信。洛兰从包里取出信递给他。他读了一遍，然后看着洛兰。
“这下你可以帮上忙了……格里想要你忘了什么？”
洛兰困惑地皱起了眉头。
“现在要准确回忆太难了。有一次我拆错了信，不小心把写给格里的信拆开了。信纸的材质很差，而且我记得字迹很潦草。信纸的上头印有七面钟的字样。当我发现不是我的信之后，就把它装回信封了，看都没看。”
“你确定吗？”吉米很温柔地问道。
洛兰第一次笑了笑。
“我知道你在想什么，我承认女人是有好奇心。不过，那封信看起来没什么意思，全是一些名字和日期。”
“名字和日期。”吉米若有所思地说道。
“格里好像不怎么在意，”洛兰接着说道，“他笑了，问我有没有听说过黑手党，然后说要是有个像黑手党的组织在英国出现，那就怪了，这种秘密组织并不合英国人的脾气。‘我们的罪犯，’他说，‘太缺少想象力。’”
吉米吹了声口哨。
“我开始明白了，”他说道，“七面钟一定是某个秘密组织的总部。就像他在信上说的，一开始他以为只是个玩笑，但后来他发现不是——他在信里也这样说过了。还有，他急着要你忘掉这件事。这只有一个解释，如果那个组织怀疑你察觉了他们的活动，你也会遇到危险。格里意识到了这一点，所以对你很担心。”
他停了停，然后平静地接着说道：
“如果我们追查下去，我们也会遇到危险。”
“如果……”邦德尔有些生气了。
“我是说你们两位，我就不同了。我是罗尼的老朋友。”他看着邦德尔，“你已经尽力了，也已经把他的话带给我了。不，看在上帝的分儿上，你和洛兰别再卷进来了。”
邦德尔用探询的目光看着另一个姑娘。她已经下定了决心，但没有当场表露出来。她不希望把洛兰•韦德推入危险的境地。
但洛兰娇小的脸上立刻现出了愤慨的神情。
“你居然这么说！你以为我会撒手不管吗？他们杀害了格里，我亲爱的格里，这世上最好的、最亲的、最善良的哥哥。他是我唯一的亲人！”
吉米不安地清了清喉咙。他心想，洛兰真是了不起，很不简单。
“听我说，”他尴尬地说道，“你千万别这么说，哪有什么孤苦伶仃一个人在世上这种糊涂话。你有很多朋友，他们都乐于帮忙。你明白我的意思吗？”
洛兰似乎听出了弦外之音，她的脸一下子变得绯红。为了掩饰内心的慌乱，她紧张地说道：
“那就这么定了，我会尽力的。谁也不能阻止我。”
“当然，我也会的。”邦德尔附和道。
她们一起看着吉米。
“好，”他缓缓地说道，“就这么办。”
她们用探询的目光看着他。
“我刚才在想，”吉米说道，“我们该从哪儿入手呢？”
第九章 计划
第九章 计划
吉米的提问立刻使谈话变得实际起来。
“总体来看，”他说道，“我们没有多少线索。事实上，我们只知道‘七面钟’这几个字而已，连它在哪儿都不知道。不管怎样，我们总不能把这片地区挨家挨户地检查一遍吧。”
“有什么不可以？”邦德尔反问道。
“好吧。也许可以做到，但我并不像你那么肯定。这一带居民很多，而且这种做法不够微妙。”
“微妙”这两个字让他想起了那个叫袜子的女孩，他不由得笑了。
“当然，还有罗尼被枪击的地方，我们也可以去仔细查看。但是警方有可能都做过了，而且会做得比我们好。”
“我欣赏你的，”邦德尔讽刺地说，“就是你豁达乐观的性格。”
“别理她，吉米，”洛兰柔声说道，“说下去。”
“耐心点儿，”吉米对邦德尔说道，“最好的侦探都是这样办案的，先排除不必要的和毫无用处的调查。现在我来说说第三个方案，就是格里之死。现在我们都知道这是一次谋杀。对了，你们都相信是谋杀吧？”
“没错。”洛兰和邦德尔异口同声地回答道。
“很好，我也这么看。依我说，我们还有一点点希望。如果氯醛不是格里自己带来的，那么一定有人溜进他的房间，把它溶化在水杯里，等格里醒来，再把它喝下去。当然，那个人还会把空药盒或空药瓶扔在那里。这种说法你们同意吗？”
“是……的，”邦德尔迟疑地说道，“可是……”
“等一下。下毒的人当时肯定在烟囱别墅，不太可能是外面的人干的。”
“对，”邦德尔表示赞同，这一次说得比较干脆。
“很好。现在范围就小多了。首先，我想大部分仆人都是那儿的老仆人吧？我是说你都很熟悉吧？”
“是的，”邦德尔说道，“其实我们把房子租出去时，所有的仆人都留下来了。主要的仆人现在都还在，当然，也会有一些变动。”
“非常好，人员变动名单正是我想要的。你……”他对邦德尔说道，“必须仔细查一下，看看新来的仆人是什么时候来的……比如听差的。”
“有一个听差是新来的，他叫约翰。”
“好，去盘问一下，还有其他新来的人。”
“我想，”邦德尔慢条斯理地说道，“一定是某个仆人干的，不可能是客人吧？”
“这个倒说不准。”
“当时还有谁在？”
“有三个女孩子，南希、海伦和袜子……”
“袜子，达文特里？我认识她。”
“可能是她吧——老是喜欢说‘情况很微妙’的女孩。”
“那肯定是她。‘微妙’这个词是她的口头禅。”
“还有格里•韦德、比尔•埃弗斯利和罗尼。当然，还有奥斯瓦德爵士和库特夫人。噢！
还有黑猩猩。”
“黑猩猩是谁？”
“一个叫贝特曼的家伙，是老库特的秘书。这家伙一本正经的，做事认真负责。以前，我和他是同学。”
“好像没什么可怀疑的。”洛兰说道。
“是啊，好像没有，”邦德尔说道，“像你说的，我们得在仆人中间找。对了，你觉得扔到窗外的那面钟跟这件事情有没有关系？”
“扔到窗外的钟？”吉米睁大了眼睛。他头一次听说此事。
“我看不出有什么关系，”邦德尔说，“不过多少有点奇怪。没道理呀。”
“我记得，”吉米慢吞吞地说道，“我进去……去看可怜的格里，那些闹钟都摆放在壁炉架上。我当时留心了一下，记得只有七只……不是八只。”
他突然一阵战栗，抱歉地解释道：
“抱歉。不知为什么，那些闹钟总是让我不寒而栗。有时我会梦见它们，我讨厌走进那间黑漆漆的房间，看见摆放成一排的那些闹钟。”
“如果房间很暗，你不可能看到它们，”邦德尔很实际地说道，“除非它们有发光的钟面……噢！”她倒吸口凉气，脸涨得通红，“还不明白吗？七面钟！”
他们俩疑惑地看着她，但她越发坚定地说道：
“肯定是！不可能是巧合。”
大家都没有说话。
“也许你是对的，”吉米•塞西杰终于开口说道，“这太奇怪了。”邦德尔急切地问道：
“那些闹钟是谁买的？”
“我们一起。”
“谁想到要买的？”
“我们一起。”
“不可能，肯定有人先想到的。”
“事情不是那样的。开始我们在议论怎么样让格里起床，黑猩猩说用闹钟，但有人说一个不够，然后又有人说……大概是比尔•埃弗斯利……说可以买上一打，然后大家都说是个好主意，就马上去买了。我们每个人买了一个，又替黑猩猩和库特夫人分别买了一个……只是想大方一下，事先大家并没有什么计划……就是这样。”
邦德尔没有答话，但显然没有被说服。
吉米开始对情况进行梳理。
“有些事实我们可以确定。首先，有一个类似黑手党的秘密组织，格里•韦德了解到这个情况，但刚开始时他觉得是个玩笑……或者认为很荒唐，并不相信它有什么危险。可是后来发生的事让他相信了，然后他开始认真对待。我猜想他肯定透露给了罗尼•德弗卢。不管怎样，他死后罗尼起了疑心，而罗尼自己也肯定是因为知道得太多，才同样遭到谋杀。
糟糕的是，我们一无所知，只能摸索，我们不知道他们俩掌握了什么情况。”
“说不定这对我们反而有利，”洛兰冷静地说道，“他们不会怀疑我们，所以也就不会对我们下手。”
“如果真是这样倒好了，”吉米忧心忡忡地说道，“洛兰，格里也希望你不要卷进来。你能不能……”
“不，不可能，”洛兰打断了他的话，“别再说这个了，这只会浪费时间。”
一提到时间，吉米抬头看了看钟。他惊讶地叫了一声，起身打开房门。
“史蒂文斯。”
“有什么吩咐，先生？”
“弄点吃的吧，史蒂文斯，能安排一下吗？”
“我早料到了，先生。我太太已经准备好了。”
“他这个人真不错，”吉米转身回来，松了一口气说道，“有头脑，你们明白的，全靠头脑。他还在上函授课呢。有时我都在想是不是要学一学。”
“别傻了。”洛兰说道。
史蒂文斯端来了精致的午餐，煎蛋卷之后是鹌鹑和蛋奶酥。
“为什么单身男人这么快活？”洛兰伤感地说道，“难道被男人照顾比被我们女人照顾要好得多？”
“噢，哪儿能呢，”吉米说道，“他们并非你说的那样。怎么可能呢！我常常想……”
他支支吾吾地打住了话头。洛兰的脸又红了。
突然，邦德尔大叫了一声，他们俩都吓了一跳。
“白痴，”邦德尔说道，“傻瓜！我是说我自己。我竟把这事给忘了。”
“什么事？”
“你们认识老鳕鱼吗？就是乔治•洛马克斯……”
“我经常听比尔和罗尼说起。”吉米答道。
“是这样，老鳕鱼下个星期要举办一个晚会……而他收到了七面钟的恐吓信。”
“什么？”吉米把身子靠过来，激动地说道，“真的吗？”
“是真的，他跟我爸爸说起过。你们觉得背后有什么文章？”
吉米身子往后一靠，脑子飞快地转动着。思索了一番之后，他开口说道：
“晚会上会出事。”话很短，但一语中的。
“我也这么想。”邦德尔附和道。
“全对上了。”吉米如梦呓一般说道。
他转身面对洛兰。
“战争发生时你多大？”他的问题出人意料。
“九岁……不，八岁。”
“至于格里，我想他那时大概二十岁。这个年龄的小伙子大多数去打仗了，但格里却没去。”
“对。”洛兰想了一会儿说道，“没有，格里没去当兵，我也不知道为什么。”
“我知道，”吉米说道，“至少我猜得八九不离十。一九一五年至一九一八年间他不在英国。我费了好大的劲才发现的。似乎没有人知道他到底去了哪里，我猜他在德国。”
洛兰双颊泛起了红晕。她钦佩地看着吉米。
“你真聪明。”
“他德语说得很好，不是吗？”
“噢，是的，就跟德国人一样。”
“我肯定没猜错。你们俩听着，格里•韦德在外交部工作，表面上看他很和善，也不聪明，有点像比尔•埃弗斯利和罗尼•德弗卢，是个可有可无的闲人……请原谅我用词不当，不过你们懂我的意思……但实际上他和他们完全不同。我觉得格里•韦德是个人物。我们的秘密情报机构被认为是世界一流的，而格里•韦德肯定在里面身居要职。这就说明了一切！我记得当时在烟囱别墅时，我还说过格里绝非像看上去那么傻。”
“那又怎样呢？”邦德尔的提问很实际。
“那么情况就比我们想象的还严重。七面钟就不仅仅是个犯罪组织了，而是一个国际性的犯罪组织。有一点可以肯定，有人会在洛马克斯的晚会上露面。”
邦德尔做了个不易察觉的鬼脸。
“我很了解乔治……可是他不喜欢我。他绝对不会请我参加严肃的聚会。不过，我可以……”
她沉思了片刻。
“你是在想我可不可以通过比尔想想办法？”吉米问道，“他一定会参加，他是老鳕鱼的助手，可能会带我去。”
“我看可以，”邦德尔说道，“你得先帮比尔想个好借口，他自己根本想不出来。”
“你有什么建议？”吉米谦逊地问道。
“噢，很简单。可以叫比尔把你说成是有钱的花花公子，对政治很有兴趣，急于进入政界。乔治一听就会上钩。这些政党就是这个样子：眼睛总盯着既有钱又年轻的新人。比尔把你说得越有钱，事情就越好办。”
“只要不把我说成是罗斯柴尔德 [1] 就行，其他我不介意。”吉米调侃道。
“那就这么说定了。明天晚上我和比尔一起吃饭，我会想法子搞到参加晚会的人员名单，应该用得上。”
“很遗憾你无法到场，”吉米说道，“不过总体来说还算圆满。”
“我也不一定去不了，”邦德尔说道，“虽然老鳕鱼讨厌我，但还有其他法子。”
她陷入了沉思。
“那我呢？”洛兰轻声温柔地问道。
“你不参加这次行动，”吉米立刻答道，“明白吗？好歹我们得有个人在外头……呃……”
“在外头干什么？”洛兰问道。
吉米决定换一种方式。他转向邦德尔说道：
“听我说，洛兰必须置身事外，对吧？”
“当然，最好是这样。”
“下次吧。”吉米安慰道。
“如果没有下次呢？”洛兰说道。
“哦，会有的，毫无疑问。”
“我明白了，我只要回家……等着。”
“就是嘛，”吉米如释重负地说道，“我就知道你讲道理。”
“你想，”邦德尔解释道，“我们三个人都进去会引起别人怀疑，尤其是你。你明白的，对吧？”
“噢，是的。”洛兰说道。
“那就这么定了。你什么也不用做。”吉米说道。
“我什么也不做。”洛兰顺从地答应。
邦德尔狐疑地看着她，她的顺从似乎很不自然。洛兰也对视着她，蓝色的眼睛里充满了诚实。当她们的目光相遇时，洛兰连睫毛都没动一下。但邦德尔还是不满意，她觉得洛兰•韦德的顺从非常可疑。
[1]罗斯柴尔德家族是欧洲乃至世界久负盛名的金融家族，号称欧洲“第六帝国”。
Ten BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD
Ten BUNDLE VISITS SCOTLAND YARD

Now it may be said at once that in the foregoing conversation each one ofthe three participants had, as it were, held something in reserve. That“Nobody tells everything” is a very true motto.
It may be questioned, for instance, if Loraine Wade was perfectly sin-cere in her account of the motives which had led her to seek out JimmyThesiger.
In the same way, Jimmy Thesiger himself had various ideas and plansconnected with the forthcoming party at George Lomax’s which he had nointention of revealing to—say, Bundle.
And Bundle herself had a fully-fledged plan which she proposed to putinto immediate execution and which she had said nothing whateverabout.
On leaving Jimmy Thesiger’s rooms, she drove to Scotland Yard, whereshe asked for Superintendent Battle.
Superintendent Battle was rather a big man. He worked almost entirelyon cases of a delicate political nature. On such a case he had come toChimneys four years ago, and Bundle was frankly trading on his remem-bering this fact.
After a short delay, she was taken along several corridors and into theSuperintendent’s private room. Battle was a stolid- looking man with awooden face. He looked supremely unintelligent and more like a commis-sionaire than a detective.
He was standing by the window when she entered, gazing in an expres-sionless manner at some sparrows.
“Good afternoon, Lady Eileen,” he said. “Sit down, won’t you?”
“Thank you,” said Bundle. “I was afraid you mightn’t remember me.”
“Always remember people,” said Battle. He added: “Got to in my job.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, rather damped.
“And what can I do for you?” inquired the Superintendent.
Bundle came straight to the point.
“I’ve always heard that you people at Scotland Yard have lists of allsecret societies and things like that that are formed in London.”
“We try to keep up to date,” said Superintendent Battle cautiously.
“I suppose a great many of them aren’t really dangerous.”
“We’ve got a very good rule to go by,” said Battle. “The more they talk,the less they’ll do. You’d be surprised how well that works out.”
“And I’ve heard that very often you let them go on?”
Battle nodded.
“That’s so. Why shouldn’t a man call himself a Brother of Liberty andmeet twice a week in a cellar and talk about rivers of blood—it won’t hurteither him or us. And if there is trouble any time, we know where to layour hands on him.”
“But sometimes, I suppose,” said Bundle slowly, “a society may be moredangerous than anyone imagines?”
“Very unlikely,” said Battle.
“But it might happen,” persisted Bundle.
“Oh, it might,” admitted the Superintendent.
There was a moment or two’s silence. Then Bundle said quietly:
“Superintendent Battle, could you give me a list of secret societies thathave their headquarters in Seven Dials?”
It was Superintendent Battle’s boast that he had never been seen to dis-play emotion. But Bundle could have sworn that just for a moment hiseyelids flickered and he looked taken back. Only for a moment, however.
He was his usual wooden self as he said:
“Strictly speaking, Lady Eileen, there’s no such place as Seven Dialsnowadays.”
“No?”
“No. Most of it is pulled down and rebuilt. It was rather a low quarteronce, but it’s very respectable and high class nowadays. Not at all a ro-mantic spot to poke about in for mysterious secret societies.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, rather nonplussed.
“But all the same I should very much like to know what put that neigh-bourhood into your head, Lady Eileen.”
“Have I got to tell you?”
“Well, it saves trouble, doesn’t it? We know where we are, so to speak.”
Bundle hesitated for a minute.
“There was a man shot yesterday,” she said slowly. “I thought I had runover him—”
“Mr. Ronald Devereux?”
“You know about it, of course. Why has there been nothing in the pa-pers?”
“Do you really want to know that, Lady Eileen?”
“Yes, please.”
“Well, we just thought we should like to have a clear twenty-four hours—see? It will be in the papers tomorrow.”
“Oh!” Bundle studied him, puzzled.
What was hidden behind that immovable face? Did he regard the shoot-ing of Ronald Devereux as an ordinary crime or as an extraordinary one?
“He mentioned Seven Dials when he was dying,” said Bundle slowly.
“Thank you,” said Battle. “I’ll make a note of that.”
He wrote a few words on the blotting pad in front of him.
Bundle started on another tack.
“Mr. Lomax, I understand, came to see you yesterday about a threaten-ing letter he had had.”
“He did.”
“And that was written from Seven Dials.”
“It had Seven Dials written at the top if it, I believe.”
Bundle felt as though she was battering hopelessly on a locked door.
“If you’ll let me advise you, Lady Eileen—”
“I know what you’re going to say.”
“I should go home and—well, think no more about these matters.”
“Leave it to you, in fact?”
“Well,” said Superintendent Battle, “after all, we are the professionals.”
“And I’m only an amateur? Yes, but you forget one thing—I mayn’t haveyour knowledge and skill—but I have one advantage over you. I can workin the dark.”
She thought that the Superintendent seemed a little taken aback, asthough the force of her words struck home.
“Of course,” said Bundle, “if you won’t give me a list of secret societies—”
“Oh! I never said that. You shall have a list of the whole lot.”
He went to the door, put his head through and called out something,then came back to his chair. Bundle, rather unreasonably, felt baffled. Theease with which he acceded to her request seemed to her suspicious. Hewas looking at her now in a placid fashion.
“Do you remember the death of Mr. Gerald Wade?” she asked abruptly.
“Down at your place, wasn’t it? Took an overdraught of sleeping mix-ture.”
“His sister says he never took things to make him sleep.”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “You’d be surprised what a lot of thingsthere are that sisters don’t know.”
Bundle again felt baffled. She sat in silence till a man came in with atypewritten sheet of paper, which he handed to the Superintendent.
“Here you are,” said the latter when the other had left the room. “TheBlood Brothers of St. Sebastian. The Wolf Hounds. The Comrades of Peace.
The Comrades Club. The Friends of Oppression. The Children of Moscow.
The Red Standard Bearers. The Herrings. The Comrades of the Fallen—and half a dozen more.”
He handed it to her with a distinct twinkle in his eye.
“You give it to me,” said Bundle, “because you know it’s not going to bethe slightest use to me. Do you want me to leave the whole thing alone?”
“I should prefer it,” said Battle. “You see—if you go messing around allthese places—well, it’s going to give us a lot of trouble.”
“Looking after me, you mean?”
“Looking after you, Lady Eileen.”
Bundle had risen to her feet. Now she stood undecided. So far the hon-ours lay with Superintendent Battle. Then she remembered one slight in-cident, and she based her last appeal upon it.
“I said just now that an amateur could do some things which a profes-sional couldn’t. You didn’t contradict me. That’s because you’re an honestman, Superintendent Battle. You knew I was right.”
“Go on,” said Battle quickly.
“At Chimneys you let me help. Won’t you let me help now?”
Battle seemed to be turning the thing over in his mind. Emboldened byhis silence, Bundle continued.
“You know pretty well what I’m like, Superintendent Battle. I butt intothings. I’m a Nosy Parker. I don’t want to get in your way or to try and dothings that you’re doing and can do a great deal better. But if there’s achance for an amateur, let me have it.”
Again there was a pause, and then Superintendent Battle said quietly:
“You couldn’t have spoken fairer than you have done, Lady Eileen. ButI’m just going to say this to you. What you propose is dangerous. Andwhen I say dangerous, I mean dangerous.”
“I’ve grasped that,” said Bundle. “I’m not a fool.”
“No,” said Superintendent Battle. “Never knew a young lady who wasless so. What I’ll do for you, Lady Eileen, is this. I’ll just give you one littlehint. And I’m doing it because I never have thought much of the motto‘Safety First.’ In my opinion all the people who spend their lives avoidingbeing run over by buses had much better be run over and put safely out ofthe way. They’re no good.”
This remarkable utterance issuing from the conventional lips of Super-intendent Battle quite took Bundle’s breath away.
“What was that hint you were going to give me?” she asked at last.
“You know Mr. Eversleigh, don’t you?”
“Know Bill? Why, of course, But what—?”
“I think Mr. Bill Eversleigh will be able to tell you all you want to knowabout Seven Dials.”
“Bill knows about it? Bill?”
“I didn’t say that. Not at all. But I think, being a quick-witted young lady,you’ll get what you want from him.
“And now,” said Superintendent Battle firmly, “I’m not going to say an-other word.”
第十章 邦德尔探访苏格兰场
第十章 邦德尔探访苏格兰场
需要立即指出的是，在前面的交谈中，每个人都有所保留。“没有人会吐露一切”确实是一句至理名言。
比如说，洛兰•韦德向吉米•塞西杰求助的动机真的那么真诚吗？
同样，对乔治•洛马克斯即将举办的晚会，吉米•塞西杰还有许多想法和计划，但他无意透露给别人——比如说邦德尔。
而邦德尔呢，她也有一个成熟的计划打算付诸实施，可是她却提都不提。
离开吉米•塞西杰的住所，邦德尔驱车前往苏格兰场，要见巴特尔警司。
巴特尔警司是个大块头。他承办的几乎都是需要慎重处理的政治性案件。四年前，他就到烟囱别墅办过一个同样性质的案子。邦德尔希望他还记得这件事。
等了一会儿，有人带着她穿过几条走廊，来到了巴特尔警司的私人办公室。巴特尔外表壮实、呆板，看起来和“精明”这个词没有一点关系，更像是个看门的而不是侦探。
邦德尔进来时，他正站在窗前，面无表情地注视着一群麻雀。
“下午好，艾琳小姐。”他打了个招呼，“请坐。”
“谢谢！”邦德尔说道，“我还担心您不记得我了。”
“见过的人我总是记得，”巴特尔说道，“在工作中见到过的。”他又加了一句。
“哦。”邦德尔有点沮丧地说道。
“有什么需要我效劳的吗？”警司问道。
邦德尔开门见山地说道：
“我一直听人说你们苏格兰场有伦敦所有秘密组织的名单。”
“我们只是尽量跟上时代而已。”巴特尔警司谨慎地说道。
“我想他们大部分并不真的很危险吧？”
“对此我们有很好的判断标准，”巴特尔说道，“他们说得越多，就做得越少。你会惊讶这个标准有多管用。”
“我还听说你们常常对他们不闻不问？”
巴特尔点了点头。
“不错。一个人自称是自由兄弟会成员，并且每个星期和其他成员聚会两次，一起议论流血事件，这又有什么不可以的呢？这既不会伤害他自己也不会伤害别人。何况，一旦有麻烦，我们随时都知道该怎么对付。”
“但有的时候，我想，”邦德尔慢悠悠地说道，“有的秘密组织可能比想象中的还要危险得多，对吧？”
“不太可能。”巴特尔答道。
“但还是有可能吧。”邦德尔坚持道。
“噢，那倒也是。”警司承认道。
有一阵子，两人都没有说话。之后，邦德尔轻声地说道：
“巴特尔警司，您能不能给我一份总部在七面钟的秘密组织名单？”
邦德尔清楚地发现，城府很深的巴特尔警司的眼皮跳动了一下，像是吃了一惊，但很快，他又恢复了往日的呆板。他开口说道：
“严格来说，艾琳小姐，现在并没有七面钟这个地方了。”
“没有了吗？”
“没有了。那个地方大部分都拆迁重建了。以前那里曾经是一个贫民区，但现在是有身份的上层人士的居住区了。没有任何秘密组织存在。”
“哦。”邦德尔有些发窘。
“不过，我还是很想知道你为什么对那个地区感兴趣，艾琳小姐？”
“一定得告诉您吗？”
“这样可以免掉不少麻烦，不是吗？我们知道自己在谈些什么，没错吧？”
邦德尔犹豫了一下。
“昨天有个人被枪杀了，”她吞吞吐吐地说道，“我还以为是我开车撞死了他……”
“罗尼•德弗卢先生？”
“您当然知道这件事。为什么报纸上什么都没说？”
“你真想知道，艾琳小姐？”
“是的，请告诉我。”
“哦，我们只是想有一天时间不受干扰……懂了吗？明天就会见报的。”
“噢。”邦德尔困惑地审视着他。
那张不动声色的面孔背后到底隐藏着什么秘密？他认为罗尼•德弗卢枪杀案是一桩普通的案子，还是非同寻常呢？
“他临死前提到了七面钟。”邦德尔慢吞吞地说道。
“谢谢，”巴特尔说道，“我会记下来。”
他在面前的纸上写下了几个字。
邦德尔决定换一种方式。
“据我所知，洛马克斯先生昨天来找过您，有关一封恐吓信。”
“他是来过。”
“那封信也是七面钟寄来的？”
“信头上有七面钟的字样，没错。”
邦德尔觉得自己在对牛弹琴，对方不愿吐露任何信息。
“我想给你一个忠告，艾琳小姐……”
“我知道您要说什么。”
“如果是我，我就回家待着，并且……不再想这些事情。”
“把这件事交给您，对不对？”
“是的，”巴特尔警司说道，“毕竟我们是专业的。”
“而我只是个业余的？没错，可您忘了一点……也许我缺乏您的知识和技巧……但我有一个优势，因为我在暗处。”
警司好像有点吃惊，这句话似乎打动了他。
“当然，”邦德尔说道，“如果您不愿意给我秘密组织的名单……”
“噢，我可没这么说。我会全部给你的。”
他走到门口，探出头去对某个人说了什么，然后又回到椅子上。邦德尔有些挫败感。
这么轻易就得到了想要的东西，不会吧？此刻，警司正平静地看着她。
“您还记得格里•韦德先生怎么死的吧？”她突然问道。
“在你家，对吗？服用了过量的安眠药。”
“但他妹妹说他从来不吃安眠药。”
“哦！”警司答道，“如果你知道做妹妹的还有很多事情不知情，你肯定会吃惊的。”
邦德尔再一次迷惑不解。她不再说话，默默地坐着，直到有人进来把一张印有字的纸条递给警司。
“给你，”等那人走了之后，警司说道，“圣•塞巴斯蒂安兄弟会、狼犬会、和平同志会、同志俱乐部、被压迫者同盟、莫斯科之子、红标志、鲱鱼会、堕落者联盟……还有另外六七个。”
他把纸条递给她，眼睛里闪烁着光芒。
“您给我这个，”邦德尔说道，“是因为您知道它对我毫无用处，对吧？您真的不想我插手吗？”
“我当然希望你不要卷进来，”巴特尔说道，“你看，如果你去这些地方，会给我们惹很大的麻烦。”
“您的意思是要照顾我？”
“对，要照顾你，艾琳小姐。”
邦德尔已经站起了身，犹豫不决，到目前为止，还是巴特尔警司占据了主动。这时她忽然想起了一件小事，她想靠这个最后做一次努力。
“刚才我说了，业余侦探可以做一些专业侦探做不到的事，您也没有否认。您是一个诚实的人，巴特尔警司，您知道我是对的。”
“说下去。”巴特尔飞快地说道。
“在烟囱别墅的时候，您允许我帮忙，现在您能不能也让我帮忙？”
巴特尔没有答话，像是在掂量这个建议。邦德尔鼓起勇气接着说道：
“您知道我的为人，巴特尔警司。我喜欢到处打听，好管闲事。我不想给您添麻烦，也不会介入您可以做得更好的事，但如果可以给业余者一个机会的话，请把它让给我。”
巴特尔还是没有答话。过了一会儿，他静静地说道：
“你说得非常中肯，艾琳小姐。不过我想提醒你，你的建议相当危险，我说危险，是指它的确危险。”
“我明白，”邦德尔答道，“我不是傻瓜。”
“当然，”巴特尔警司说道，“我从没遇到过比你更聪明的年轻小姐。艾琳小姐，我只能给你一个小小的暗示，之所以这样，是因为我从不信守‘安全第一’这样的鬼话。要我看，担心被公交车撞的人最好是被撞了，然后被抬到一边去，那就安全了。这样的人不值一提。”
如此豪迈的话从循规蹈矩的巴特尔警司嘴里说出来，着实令邦德尔大吃一惊。
“您要给我什么暗示呢？”她终于问道。
“你认识埃弗斯利先生吧？”
“比尔？当然认识，但是这和……”
“我想比尔能告诉你有关七面钟的一切。”
“比尔？比尔知道？”
“我可没这样说，根本没有。不过我想，像你这么机智的女孩子，一定能从他那里得到想要的一切。现在，”巴特尔警司十分坚决地说道，“能说的我都说了。”
Eleven DINNER WITH BILL
Eleven DINNER WITH BILL

Bundle set out to keep her appointment with Bill on the following eveningfull of expectation.
Bill greeted her with every sign of elation.
“Bill really is rather nice,” thought Bundle to herself. “Just like a large,clumsy dog that wags its tail when it’s pleased to see you.”
The large dog was uttering short staccato yelps of comment and inform-ation.
“You look tremendously fit, Bundle. I can’t tell you how pleased I am tosee you. I’ve ordered oysters—you do like oysters, don’t you? And how’severything? What did you want to go mouldering about abroad so long?
Were you having a very gay time?”
“No, deadly,” said Bundle. “Perfectly foul. Old diseased colonels creepingabout in the sun, and active, wizened spinsters running libraries andchurches.”
“Give me England,” said Bill. “I bar this foreign business — exceptSwitzerland. Switzerland’s all right. I’m thinking of going this Christmas.
Why don’t you come along?”
“I’ll think about it,” said Bundle. “What have you been doing with your-self lately, Bill?”
It was an incautious query. Bundle had merely made it out of politenessand as a preliminary to introducing her own topics of conversation. Itwas, however, the opening for which Bill had been waiting.
“That’s just what I’ve been wanting to tell you about. You’re brainy,Bundle, and I want your advice. You know that musical show, ‘Damn YourEyes?’ ”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m going to tell you about one of the dirtiest pieces of work ima-ginable. My God! the theatrical crowd. There’s a girl—a Yankee girl—aperfect stunner—”
Bundle’s heart sank. The grievances of Bill’s lady friends were alwaysinterminable—they went on and on and there was no stemming them.
“This girl, Babe St. Maur her name is—”
“I wonder how she got her name?” said Bundle sarcastically.
Bill replied literally.
“She got it out of Who’s Who. Opened it and jabbed her finger down on apage without looking. Pretty nifty, eh? Her real name’s Goldschmidt or Ab-rameier—something quite impossible.”
“Oh, quite,” agreed Bundle.
“Well, Babe St. Maur is pretty smart. And she’s got muscles. She was oneof the eight girls who made the living bridge—”
“Bill,” said Bundle desperately. “I went to see Jimmy Thesiger yesterdaymorning.”
“Good old Jimmy,” said Bill. “Well, as I was telling you, Babe’s prettysmart. You’ve got to be nowadays. She can put it over on most theatricalpeople. If you want to live, be high-handed, that’s what Babe says. Andmind you, she’s the goods all right. She can act—it’s marvellous how thatgirl can act. She’d not much chance in ‘Damn Your Eyes’—just swamped ina pack of good-looking girls. I said why not try the legitimate stage—youknow, Mrs. Tanqueray—that sort of stuff—but Babe just laughed—”
“Have you seen Jimmy at all?”
“Saw him this morning. Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes, I hadn’t got tothe rumpus yet. And mind you it was jealousy—sheer, spiteful jealousy.
The other girl wasn’t a patch on Babe for looks and she knew it. So shewent behind her back—”
Bundle resigned herself to the inevitable and heard the whole story ofthe unfortunate circumstances which had led up to Babe St. Maur’s sum-mary disappearance from the cast of “Damn Your Eyes.” It took a longtime. When Bill finally paused for breath and sympathy, Bundle said:
“You’re quite right, Bill, it’s a rotten shame. There must be a lot of jeal-ousy about—”
“The whole theatrical world’s rotten with it.”
“It must be. Did Jimmy say anything to you about coming down to theAbbey next week?”
For the first time, Bill gave his attention to what Bundle was saying.
“He was full of a long rigmarole he wanted me to stuff Codders with.
About wanting to stand in the Conservative interest. But you know,Bundle, it’s too damned risky.”
“Stuff,” said Bundle. “If George does find him out, he won’t blame you.
You’ll just have been taken in, that’s all.”
“That’s not it at all,” said Bill. “I mean it’s too damned risky for Jimmy.
Before he knows where he is, he’ll be parked down somewhere like Toot-ing East, pledged to kiss babies and make speeches. You don’t know howthorough Codders is and how frightfully energetic.”
“Well, we’ll have to risk that,” said Bundle. “Jimmy can take care of him-self all right.”
“You don’t know Codders,” repeated Bill.
“Who’s coming to this party, Bill? Is it anything very special?”
“Only the usual sort of muck. Mrs. Macatta for one.”
“The M.P.?”
“Yes, you know, always going off the deep end about Welfare and PureMilk and Save the Children. Think of poor Jimmy being talked to by her.”
“Never mind Jimmy. Go on telling me.”
“Then there’s the Hungarian, what they call a Young Hungarian. Count-ess something unpronounceable. She’s all right.”
He swallowed as though embarrassed, and Bundle observed that he wascrumbling his bread nervously.
“Young and beautiful?” she inquired delicately.
“Oh, rather.”
“I didn’t know George went in for female beauty much.”
“Oh, he doesn’t. She runs baby feeding in Buda Pesth —something likethat. Naturally she and Mrs. Macatta want to get together.”
“Who else?”
“Sir Stanley Digby—”
“The Air Minister?”
“Yes. And his secretary, Terence O’Rourke. He’s rather a lad, by the way—or used to be in his flying days. Then there’s a perfectly poisonous Ger-man chap called Herr Eberhard. I don’t know who he is, but we’re all mak-ing the hell of a fuss about him. I’ve been twice told off to take him out tolunch, and I can tell you, Bundle, it was no joke. He’s not like the Embassychaps, who are all very decent. This man sucks in soup and eats peas witha knife. Not only that, but the brute is always biting his fingernails—posit-ively gnaws at them.”
“Pretty foul.”
“Isn’t it? I believe he invents things—something of the kind. Well, that’sall. Oh, yes, Sir Oswald Coote.”
“And Lady Coote?”
“Yes, I believe she’s coming too.”
Bundle sat lost in thought for some minutes. Bill’s list was suggestive,but she hadn’t time to think out various possibilities just now. She mustget on to the next point.
“Bill,” she said, “what’s all this about Seven Dials?”
Bill at once looked horribly embarrassed. He blinked and avoided herglance.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
“Nonsense,” said Bundle. “I was told you know all about it.”
“About what?”
This was rather a poser. Bundle shifted her ground.
“I don’t see what you want to be so secretive for,” she complained.
“Nothing to be secretive about. Nobody goes there much now. It wasonly a craze.”
This sounded puzzling.
“One gets so out of things when one is away,” said Bundle in a sad voice.
“Oh, you haven’t missed much,” said Bill. “Everyone went there just tosay they had been. It was boring really, and, my God, you can get tired offried fish.”
“Where did everyone go?”
“To the Seven Dials Club, of course,” said Bill, staring. “Wasn’t that whatyou were asking about?”
“I didn’t know it by that name,” said Bundle.
“Used to be a slummy sort of district round about Tottenham Court Roadway. It’s all pulled down and cleaned up now. But the Seven Dials Clubkeeps to the old atmosphere. Fried fish and chips. General squalor. Kind ofEast End stunt, but awfully handy to get at after a show.”
“It’s a nightclub, I suppose,” said Bundle. “Dancing and all that?”
“That’s it. Awfully mixed crowd. Not a posh affair. Artists, you know,and all sorts of odd women and a sprinkling of our lot. They say quite a lotof things, but I think that that’s all bunkum myself, just said to make theplace go.”
“Good,” said Bundle. “We’ll go there tonight.”
“Oh! I shouldn’t do that,” said Bill. His embarrassment had returned. “Itell you it’s played out. Nobody goes there now.”
“Well, we’re going.”
“You wouldn’t care for it, Bundle. You wouldn’t really.”
“You’re going to take me to the Seven Dials Club and nowhere else, Bill.
And I should like to know why you are so unwilling?”
“I? Unwilling?”
“Painfully so. What’s the guilty secret?”
“Guilty secret?”
“Don’t keep repeating what I say. You do it to give yourself time.”
“I don’t,” said Bill indignantly. “It’s only—”
“Well? I know there’s something. You never can conceal anything.”
“I’ve got nothing to conceal. It’s only—”
“Well?”
“It’s a long story—You see, I took Babe St. Maur there one night—”
“Oh! Babe St. Maur again.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know it was about her—” said Bundle, stifling a yawn.
“As I say, I took Babe there. She rather fancied a lobster. I had a lobsterunder my arm—”
The story went on—When the lobster had been finally dismembered ina struggle between Bill and a fellow who was a rank outsider, Bundlebrought her attention back to him.
“I see,” she said. “And there was a row?”
“Yes, but it was my lobster. I’d bought it and paid for it. I had a perfectright—”
“Oh, you had, you had,” said Bundle hastily. “But I’m sure that’s all for-gotten now. And I don’t care for lobsters anyway. So let’s go.”
“We may be raided by the police. There’s a room upstairs where theyplay baccarat.”
“Father will have to come and bail me out, that’s all. Come on, Bill.”
Bill still seemed rather reluctant, but Bundle was adamant and theywere soon speeding to their destination in a taxi.
The place, when they got to it, was much as she imagined it would be. Itwas a tall house in a narrow street, 14 Hunstanton Street; she noted thenumber.
A man whose face was strangely familiar opened the door. She thoughthe started slightly when he saw her, but he greeted Bill with respectful re-cognition. He was a tall man, with fair hair, a rather weak, anaemic faceand slightly shifty eyes. Bundle puzzled to herself where she could haveseen him before.
Bill had recovered his equilibrium now and quite enjoyed doing show-man. They danced in the cellar, which was very full of smoke—so much sothat you saw everyone through a blue haze. The smell of fried fish was al-most overpowering.
On the wall were rough charcoal sketches, some of them executed withreal talent. The company was extremely mixed. There were portly foreign-ers, opulent Jewesses, a sprinkling of the really smart, and several ladiesbelonging to the oldest profession in the world.
Soon Bill led Bundle upstairs. There the weak-faced man was on guard,watching all those admitted to the gambling room with a lynx eye. Sud-denly recognition came to Bundle.
“Of course,” she said. “How stupid of me. It’s Alfred who used to besecond footman at Chimneys. How are you, Alfred?”
“Nicely, thank you, your Ladyship.”
“When did you leave Chimneys, Alfred? Was it long before we gotback?”
“It was about a month ago, m’lady. I got a chance of bettering myself,and it seemed a pity not to take it.”
“I suppose they pay you very well here,” remarked Bundle.
“Very fair, m’lady.”
Bundle passed in. It seemed to her that in this room the real life of theclub was exposed. The stakes were high, she saw that at once, and thepeople gathered round the two tables were of the true type. Hawkeyed,haggard, with the gambling fever in their blood.
She and Bill stayed here for about half an hour. Then Bill grew restive.
“Let’s get out of this place, Bundle, and go on dancing.”
Bundle agreed. There was nothing to be seen here. They went downagain. They danced for another half hour, had fish and chips, and thenBundle declared herself ready to go home.
“But it’s so early,” Bill protested.
“No, it isn’t. Not really. And, anyway, I’ve got a long day in front of metomorrow.”
“What are you going to do?”
“That depends,” said Bundle mysteriously. “But I can tell you this, Bill,the grass is not going to grow under my feet.”
“It never does,” said Mr. Eversleigh.
第十一章 与比尔共进晚餐
第十一章 与比尔共进晚餐
第二天，邦德尔满心期待地赶赴比尔的约会。
比尔兴高采烈地迎接了她。
“比尔还真不错，”邦德尔心想，“就像一条大笨狗，见到你就高兴地摇尾巴。”
这条大狗絮絮叨叨地说着：
“你看起来气色好极了，邦德尔。我简直无法形容见到你我有多高兴。我点了牡蛎……你喜欢吃牡蛎，对吧？你怎么样？在国外待了那么久都干了些什么？玩得还开心吧？”
“才没有，”邦德尔答道，“无聊死了。就看到一些老弱病残的军官在晒太阳，到图书馆去或者上教堂，碰到的也尽是些干瘪的老处女。”
“要是把英国交给我的话，”比尔说道，“我就禁止这些外国玩意儿……除了瑞士。瑞士还不错，我打算今年到瑞士过圣诞节，跟我一起去怎么样？”
“我考虑一下吧，”邦德尔接着随口问道，“最近怎么样，比尔？”
邦德尔这么问纯粹是出于礼貌，也想由此引出自己的话题，没想到比尔一直等的就是这句话。
“我正要跟你说呢。你真聪明，邦德尔，我想听听你的建议。你知道那出音乐剧《瞎了你的眼睛》吗？”
“知道。”
“那好，我要跟你说一个你怎么也想象不到的最龌龊的八卦。天哪！那个剧团，有一个女孩，一个美国人，绝色美女……”
邦德尔的心直往下沉。一说起那些女朋友的事，比尔总是没完没了，可以一直说下去。
“她的名字叫芭比•圣•摩尔……”
“怎么取这么个名字？”邦德尔挖苦道。
比尔老老实实地答道：
“是根据《名人辞典》取的，她看都没看，随手翻到某页的某个地方，就把名字定下来了。很有趣，是吧？她的真名是戈尔德斯密特或者是亚伯拉米尔……难得听到这么怪的名字吧。”
“嗯，是的。”邦德尔表示同意。
“芭比•圣•摩尔聪明伶俐，而且身手矫健，她是那八个搭人梯的女孩子中的一个……”
“比尔，”邦德尔绝望地说道，“昨天上午我见到了吉米•塞西杰。”
“哦，挺好的。”比尔说道，“就像我刚才说的，芭比相当聪明。这年头不聪明可不行。
她捉弄过许多戏剧圈里的人。芭比经常说，要想生存，就得专横。说真的，她可是个好人。她很能演，演得真是棒极了。在《瞎了你的眼睛》中她的戏不多，只是挤在一大群漂亮姑娘当中罢了。我问她为什么不试试正统的舞台剧……比如《坦里克夫人》……可芭比只是笑了笑……”
“你见过吉米吗？”
“今天早上见过。让我想想，刚才我说到哪儿了？哦，对了，我还没说吵架的事呢。说真的，完全是嫉妒，恶意的嫉妒。吵架的那个女孩远没有芭比漂亮，她自己也知道，所以她就背地里……”
邦德尔无可奈何，只好听比尔把话说完。比尔唠唠叨叨地叙述着芭比•圣•摩尔遭遇的各种倒霉事，一直讲到最终无法出演《瞎了你的眼睛》——这花了很长一段时间。等到比尔停下来同情地喘了一口气时，邦德尔开口说道：
“你说得没错，比尔。真的很卑劣，肯定是嫉妒惹的祸……”
“整个演艺圈都被嫉妒搞坏了。”
“绝对是。吉米有没有跟你说过下星期要去双足飞龙教堂的事？”
比尔这才注意听邦德尔说话。
“他跟我说了一大堆废话，要我去骗骗老鳕鱼。什么要为保守党效力之类的话。但是你知道，邦德尔，这太危险了。”
“骗？”邦德尔说道，“如果乔治发现是他在背后搞鬼，他就不会怪你了。你也不过是被他骗了，仅此而已。”
“没这么简单，”比尔答道，“我的意思是，这对吉米来说太危险了。他还没搞清楚是怎么回事，就会被拖到西图廷之类的地方去亲吻婴儿，发表演说。你不知道老鳕鱼有多么一丝不苟，而且有多么精力充沛。”
“好吧，但我必须冒这个险，”邦德尔说道，“吉米会照顾好自己的。”
“你真的不了解老鳕鱼。”比尔又强调了一次。
“晚会有哪些人参加，比尔？有没有什么特殊人物？”
“同往常一样，都是些讨厌的家伙。麦卡塔夫人是一位。”
“那个议员？”
“是的，就是总为争取福利、纯净牛奶和拯救儿童而义愤填膺的那个。想想要是可怜的吉米和她搭上话会怎么样。”
“别去管吉米。还有哪些人？”
“还有就是那个匈牙利人。他们管她叫年轻的匈牙利人，这位伯爵夫人的名字不太好念。她还算可以。”
他咽了一口口水，有点发窘。邦德尔注意到他在紧张地捏着面包。
“年轻美貌？”她故意问道。
“嗯，很漂亮。”
“乔治好像不在意女士的容貌。”
“对，他是不在意。她在布达佩斯做婴儿食品一类的生意。当然，她会跟麦卡塔夫人一起去。”
“还有谁？”
“斯坦利•迪格比爵士……”
“航空部长？”
“是的，还有他的秘书特伦斯•奥罗克。对了，他是个愣头愣脑的小伙子，或者说他在当飞行员的时候是这个样子。还有一个德国佬，名叫赫尔•埃伯哈德，这个人实在令人讨厌。我不知道他的来历，但大家都围着他转。我有两次被指派带他出去吃午饭，说真的，邦德尔，这不是开玩笑，他不像使馆的那些家伙那么温文尔雅。这家伙喝起汤来直出声，还用刀子吃豌豆。还不只有这些，最让人受不了的是他咬指甲……肯定是在咬指甲。”
“太恶心了。”
“可不是吗！我猜他是搞发明的吧。差不多就是这些人。噢，我差点忘了，还有奥斯瓦德•库特爵士。”
“还有库特夫人？”
“是，我想她也会来。”
邦德尔思索了几分钟。比尔给出的名单有一定的参考价值，但她现在还来不及细细琢磨，她必须着手下一个问题。
“比尔，”她问道，“这些和七面钟有关系吗？”
比尔马上显得极为尴尬。他眨了眨眼睛，避开了她的目光。
“你这话是什么意思？”他说道。
“别装了，”邦德尔驳斥道，“有人跟我说你全都知道。”
“知道什么呢？”
比尔在装糊涂。于是邦德尔话锋一转。
“何必遮遮掩掩呢？”她抱怨道。
“没有遮掩呀。现在没人再去那儿了，只不过是一时的狂热罢了。”
比尔的回答令人不解。
“我只离开一会儿就落伍了。”邦德尔伤心地说道。
“噢，你并没有落伍，”比尔安慰道，“大家去那儿只是为了吹嘘自己去过那儿。其实非常无聊的，而且，天哪，你会讨厌煎鱼的。”
“你说的那儿是什么地方？”
“当然是七面钟俱乐部啦，”比尔睁大了眼睛反问道，“你问的不是这个？”
“我不知道它的名字。”邦德尔回答道。
“以前是托特纳姆法院路上的一个贫民窟，现在被拆除清理掉了。不过七面钟俱乐部还是保留了原有的风格，有煎鱼和炸薯条，总体上很脏，有点像伦敦东区贫民窟的杂耍场，看完表演到那里去倒是挺方便的。”
“是一家夜总会吗？”邦德尔说道，“有跳舞啊什么的？”
“对。人很多很杂，不是什么高档场所。有一些搞艺术的，还有形形色色的古怪女人，也有一些像我们这样的人会过去。他们个个口舌如簧，但我认为说的尽是些空话，只是为了那个地方能够存在下去罢了。”
“听上去不错，”邦德尔说道，“那今天晚上我们就去那儿吧。”
“噢，你不能去，”比尔答道。他的脸上又露出了尴尬的神情。“我说过那里已经不时兴了，现在没人去了。”
“那我们去呗。”
“你不会喜欢那里的，邦德尔。真的不会喜欢的。”
“那你就只带我去七面钟俱乐部，别的哪儿也不去，比尔。我很想知道你为什么不情愿？”
“我？不情愿？”
“非常不情愿。不会有什么见不得人的秘密吧？”
“见不得人的秘密？”
“别重复我的话。你是在拖延时间。”
“我没有，”比尔有点生气了，“只是……”
“怎么啦？我就知道有名堂。你从来就不善于掩饰。”
“我有什么好掩饰的？只是……”
“只是什么？”
“只是说来话长……有一天晚上我带芭比•圣•摩尔去那儿……”
“噢！又是芭比•圣•摩尔。”
“不可以吗？”
“我不知道跟她有关……”邦德尔说道，硬是忍住了没打哈欠。
“我带芭比•圣•摩尔去那儿，她挺喜欢龙虾的，于是我买了一只夹在胳膊下……”
比尔絮絮叨叨地讲下去——当比尔说到那只龙虾最后在他和一个不起眼的局外人的争斗中弄得四分五裂时，邦德尔才把注意力转回到他的身上。
“我明白了，”她说，“你跟别人打了一架。”
“是的，那可是我的龙虾呀。我花钱买的。我完全有权……”
“噢，你有，你有权，”邦德尔赶忙说道，“不过我相信你已经把这件事给忘了，而且，我也不喜欢龙虾。所以，我们还是去吧。”
“我们可能会遇到警察。那里的楼上有个房间，他们在那里用巴卡拉纸牌赌钱。”
“大不了叫我爸爸把我保释出来就是了。走吧，比尔。”
比尔仍然不太情愿，但邦德尔执意要去，最后他们还是叫了一辆出租车，朝目的地疾驰而去。
到达之后，邦德尔发现这个地方跟自己想象的相差无几。这是一幢位于一条狭窄街道上的高房子，门牌号是汉斯坦街十四号。她记下了这个门牌号码。
开门的是一个男子。令邦德尔奇怪的是，这个人的面孔竟有些眼熟。她觉得这个人在见到她时也略微有些吃惊，但他依然恭恭敬敬地跟比尔打了个招呼。这个人身材高大，金色头发，脸色苍白，脸庞削瘦，看上去有点贼眉鼠眼。邦德尔寻思着以前可能在什么地方见过他。
此刻比尔已经恢复了镇定，欣然当起了向导。地下室里有很多人在跳舞，乌烟瘴气，看东西都像隔了一层薄薄的蓝色烟雾，到处弥漫着煎鱼的味道。
墙上挂着一些炭笔素描，其中几幅还颇显绘画者的功力。里面的人三教九流，有肥胖的外国人和犹太富婆，偶尔看到几个真正漂亮的姑娘，还有一些从事这个世界上最古老职业的女郎。
比尔领着邦德尔上了楼。那个气色不太好的男人担任守卫，警惕地监视着获准进入赌博室的每个人。突然，邦德尔认出他了。
“就是他，”她说道，“我真蠢，是阿尔弗雷德，以前是烟囱别墅的二等听差。你好吗，阿尔弗雷德？”
“很好，谢谢您，小姐。”
“你是什么时候离开烟囱别墅的，阿尔弗雷德？我们回来之前就离开了吗？”
“有一个月了吧，小姐。我遇到了一个改善的机会，不抓住实在是太可惜了。”
“这里的待遇大概很好吧？”邦德尔说道。
“很好，小姐。”
邦德尔走进房间。在她看来，这个房间才真正体现了俱乐部的活力。赌注都很大，她马上就发现了这一点，而且，围坐在两张赌桌旁的都是真正的赌棍：像鹰隼一样的眼神，面色憔悴，血液里沸腾着对赌博的狂热。
邦德尔和比尔在房间待了大约半小时，比尔开始有些不安起来。
“我们走吧，邦德尔，跳舞去。”
邦德尔同意了。这儿没什么好看的。他们来到楼下，跳了半小时的舞，吃了些煎鱼和炸薯条，然后邦德尔说她打算回家了。
“别，时候还早呢。”比尔反对道。
“已经不早了。真的有点晚了。何况明天我还有很多事要做呢。”
“什么事呀？”
“看情况再说了，”邦德尔神秘兮兮地说道，“不过我可以告诉你，比尔，我不会闲得让脚底下长出青草来的。”
“绝对不会。”埃弗斯利先生说道。
Twelve INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS
Twelve INQUIRIES AT CHIMNEYS

Bundle’s temperament was certainly not inherited from her father, whoseprevailing characteristic was a wholly amiable inertia. As Bill Eversleighhad very justly remarked, the grass never did grow under Bundle’s feet.
On the morning following her dinner with Bill, Bundle woke full of en-ergy. She had three distinct plans which she meant to put into operationthat day, and she realized that she was going to be slightly hampered bythe limits of time and space.
Fortunately she did not suffer from the affliction of Gerry Wade, RonnyDevereux and Jimmy Thesiger—that of not being able to get up in themorning. Sir Oswald Coote himself would have had no fault to find withher on the score of early rising. At half past eight Bundle had breakfastedand was on her way to Chimneys in the Hispano.
Her father seemed mildly pleased to see her.
“I never know when you’re going to turn up,” he said. “But this will saveme ringing up, which I hate. Colonel Melrose was here yesterday aboutthe inquest.”
Colonel Melrose was Chief Constable of the county, and an old friend ofLord Caterham.
“You mean the inquest of Ronny Devereux? When is it to be?”
“Tomorrow. Twelve o’clock. Melrose will call for you. Having found thebody, you’ll have to give evidence, but he said you needn’t be at allalarmed.”
“Why on earth should I be alarmed?”
“Well, you know,” said Lord Caterham apologetically, “Melrose is a bitold-fashioned.”
“Twelve o’clock,” said Bundle. “Good. I shall be here, if I’m still alive.”
“Have you any reason to anticipate not being alive?”
“One never knows,” said Bundle. “The strain of modern life — as thenewspapers say.”
“Which reminds me that George Lomax asked me to come over to theAbbey next week. I refused, of course.”
“Quite right,” said Bundle. “We don’t want you mixed up in any funnybusiness.”
“Is there going to be any funny business?” asked Lord Caterham with asudden awakening of interest.
“Well—warning letters and all that, you know,” said Bundle.
“Perhaps George is going to be assassinated,” said Lord Caterham hope-fully. “What do you think, Bundle—perhaps I’d better go after all.”
“You curb your bloodthirsty instincts and stay quietly at home,” saidBundle. “I’m going to talk to Mrs. Howell.”
Mrs. Howell was the housekeeper, that dignified, creaking lady whostruck terror to the heart of Lady Coote. She had no terror for Bundle,whom, indeed, she always called Miss Bundle, a relic of the days whenBundle had stayed at Chimneys, a long-legged, impish child, before herfather had succeeded to the title.
“Now, Howelly,” said Bundle, “let’s have a cup of rich cocoa together,and let me hear all the household news.”
She gleaned what she wanted without much difficulty, making mentalnotes as follows:
“Two new scullery maids—village girls—doesn’t seem much there. Newthird housemaid—head housemaid’s niece. That sounds all right. Howellyseems to have bullied poor Lady Coote a good deal. She would.”
“I never thought the day would come when I should see Chimneys in-habited by strangers, Miss Bundle.”
“Oh! one must go with the times,” said Bundle. “You’ll be lucky, Howelly,if you never see it converted into desirable flats with use of superb pleas-ure grounds.”
Mrs. Howells shivered all down her reactionary aristocratic spine.
“I’ve never seen Sir Oswald Coote,” remarked Bundle.
“Sir Oswald is no doubt a very clever gentleman,” said Mrs. Howells dis-tantly.
Bundle gathered that Sir Oswald had not been liked by his staff.
“Of course, it was Mr. Bateman who saw to everything,” continued thehousekeeper. “A very efficient gentleman. A very efficient gentleman in-deed, and one who knew the way things ought to be done.”
Bundle led the talk on to the topic of Gerald Wade’s death. Mrs. Howellwas only too willing to talk about it, and was full of pitying ejaculationsabout the poor young gentleman, but Bundle gleaned nothing new.
Presently she took leave of Mrs. Howell and came downstairs again,where she promptly rang for Tredwell.
“Tredwell, when did Arthur leave?”
“It would be about a month ago now, my lady.”
“Why did he leave?”
“It was by his own wish, my lady. I believe he has gone to London. I wasnot dissatisfied with him in any way. I think you will find the new foot-man, John, very satisfactory. He seems to know his work and to be mostanxious to give satisfaction.”
“Where did he come from?”
“He had excellent references, my lady. He had lived last with LordMount Vernon.”
“I see,” said Bundle thoughtfully.
She was remembering that Lord Mount Vernon was at present on ashooting trip in East Africa.
“What’s his last name, Tredwell?”
“Bower, my lady.”
Tredwell paused for a minute or two and then, seeing that Bundle hadfinished, he quietly left the room. Bundle remained lost in thought.
John had opened the door to her on her arrival that day, and she hadtaken particular notice of him without seeming to do so. Apparently hewas the perfect servant, well-trained, with an expressionless face. He had,perhaps, a more soldierly bearing than most footmen and there was some-thing a little odd about the shape of the back of his head.
But these details, as Bundle realized, were hardly relevant to the situ-ation. She sat frowning down at the blotting paper in front of her. She hada pencil in her hand and was idly tracing the name Bower over and overagain.
Suddenly an idea struck her and she stopped dead, staring at the word.
Then she summoned Tredwell once more.
“Tredwell, how is the name Bower spelt?”
“B-A-U-E-R, my lady.”
“That’s not an English name.”
“I believe he is of Swiss extraction, my lady.”
“Oh! That’s all, Tredwell, thank you.”
Swiss extraction? No. German! That martial carriage, that flat back tothe head. And he had come to Chimneys a fortnight before Gerry Wade’sdeath.
Bundle rose to her feet. She had done all she could here. Now to get onwith things! She went in search of her father.
“I’m off again,” she said. “I’ve got to go and see Aunt Marcia.”
“Got to see Marcia?” Lord Caterham’s voice was full of astonishment.
“Poor child, how did you get let in for that?”
“Just for once,” said Bundle, “I happen to be going of my own free will.”
Lord Caterham looked at her in amazement. That anyone could have agenuine desire to face his redoubtable sister-in-law was quite incompre-hensible to him. Marcia, Marchioness of Caterham, the widow of his latebrother Henry, was a very prominent personality. Lord Caterham admit-ted that she had made Henry an admirable wife and that but for her in allprobability he would never have held the office of Secretary of State forForeign Affairs. On the other hand, he had always looked upon Henry’searly death as a merciful release.
It seemed to him that Bundle was foolishly putting her head into thelion’s mouth.
“Oh! I say,” he said. “You know, I shouldn’t do that. You don’t knowwhat it may lead to.”
“I know what I hope it’s going to lead to,” said Bundle. “I’m all right,Father, don’t you worry about me.”
Lord Caterham sighed and settled himself more comfortably in hischair. He went back to his perusal of the Field. But in a minute or twoBundle suddenly put her head in again.
“Sorry,” she said. “But there’s one other thing I wanted to ask you. Whatis Sir Oswald Coote?”
“I told you—a steamroller.”
“I don’t mean your personal impression of him. How did he make hismoney—trouser buttons or brass beds or what?”
“Oh, I see. He’s steel. Steel and iron. He’s got the biggest steel works, orwhatever you call it, in England. He doesn’t, of course, run the show per-sonally now. It’s a company or companies. He got me in as a director ofsomething or other. Very good business for me—nothing to do except godown to the city once or twice a year to one of those hotel places—CannonStreet or Liverpool Street—and sit around a table where they have verynice new blotting paper. Then Coote or some clever Johnny makes aspeech simply bristling with figures, but fortunately you needn’t listen toit—and I can tell you, you often get a jolly good lunch out of it.”
Uninterested in Lord Caterham’s lunches, Bundle had departed againbefore he had finished speaking. On the way back to London, she tried topiece together things to her satisfaction.
As far as she could see, steel and infant welfare did not go together. Oneof the two, then, was just padding—presumably the latter. Mrs. Macattaand the Hungarian countess could be ruled out of court. They were cam-ouflage. No, the pivot of the whole thing seemed to be the unattractiveHerr Eberhard. He did not seem to be the type of man whom George Lo-max would normally invite. Bill had said vaguely that he invented. Thenthere was the Air Minister, and Sir Oswald Coote, who was steel. Somehowthat seemed to hang together.
Since it was useless speculating further, Bundle abandoned the attemptand concentrated on her forthcoming interview with Lady Caterham.
The lady lived in a large gloomy house in one of London’s higher-classsquares. Inside it smelt of sealing wax, bird seed and slightly decayedflowers. Lady Caterham was a large woman—large in every way. Her pro-portions were majestic, rather than ample. She had a large beaked nose,wore goldrimmed pince-nez and her upper lip bore just the faintest suspi-cion of a moustache.
She was somewhat surprised to see her niece, but accorded her a frigidcheek, which Bundle duly kissed.
“This is quite an unexpected pleasure, Eileen,” she observed coldly.
“We’ve only just got back, Aunt Marcia.”
“I know. How is your father? Much as usual?”
Her tone conveyed disparagement. She had a poor opinion of AlastairEdward Brent, ninth Marquis of Caterham. She would have called him,had she known the term, a “poor fish.”
“Father is very well. He’s down at Chimneys.”
“Indeed. You know, Eileen, I never approved of the letting of Chimneys.
The place is in many ways a historical monument. It should not becheapened.”
“It must have been wonderful in Uncle Henry’s days,” said Bundle witha slight sigh.
“Henry realized his responsibilities,” said Henry’s widow.
“Think of the people who stayed there,” went on Bundle ecstatically. “Allthe principal statesmen of Europe.”
Lady Caterham sighed.
“I can truly say that history has been made there more than once,” sheobserved. “If only your father—”
She shook her head sadly.
“Politics bore father,” said Bundle, “and yet they are about the most fas-cinating study there is, I should say. Especially if one knew about themfrom the inside.”
She made this extravagantly untruthful statement of her feelingswithout even a blush. Her aunt looked at her with some surprise.
“I am pleased to hear you say so,” she said. “I always imagined, Eileen,that you cared for nothing but this modern pursuit of pleasure.”
“I used to,” said Bundle.
“It is true that you are still very young,” said Lady Caterham thought-fully. “But with your advantages, and if you were to marry suitably, youmight be one of the leading political hostesses of the day.”
Bundle felt slightly alarmed. For a moment she feared that her auntmight produce a suitable husband straightaway.
“But I feel such a fool,” said Bundle. “I mean, I know so little.”
“That can easily be remedied,” said Lady Caterham briskly. “I have anyamount of literature I can lend you.”
“Thank you, Aunt Marcia,” said Bundle, and proceeded hastily to hersecond line of attack.
“I wondered if you knew Mrs. Macatta, Aunt Marcia?”
“Certainly I know her. A most estimable woman with a brilliant brain. Imay say that as a general rule I do not hold with women standing for Par-liament. They can make their influence felt in a more womanly fashion.”
She paused, doubtless to recall the womanly way in which she had forceda reluctant husband into the political arena and the marvellous successwhich had crowned his and her efforts. “But still, times change. And thework Mrs. Macatta is doing is of truly national importance, and of the ut-most value to all women. It is, I think I may say, true womanly work. Youmust certainly meet Mrs. Macatta.”
Bundle gave a rather dismal sigh.
“She’s going to be at a house party at George Lomax’s next week. Heasked father, who, of course, won’t go, but he never thought of asking me.
Thinks I’m too much of an idiot, I suppose.”
It occurred to Lady Caterham that her niece was really wonderfully im-proved. Had she, perhaps, had an unfortunate love affair? An unfortunatelove affair, in Lady Caterham’s opinion, was so often highly beneficial toyoung girls. It made them take life seriously.
“I don’t suppose George Lomax realizes for a moment that you have—shall we say, grown up? Eileen dear” she said, “I must have a few wordswith him.”
“He doesn’t like me,” said Bundle. “I know he won’t ask me.”
“Nonsense,” said Lady Caterham. “I shall make a point of it. I knewGeorge Lomax when he was so high.” She indicated a quite impossibleheight. “He will be only too pleased to do me a favour. And he will be sureto see for himself that it is vitally important that the present-day younggirls of our own class should take an intelligent interest in the welfare oftheir country.”
Bundle nearly said: “Hear, hear,” but checked herself.
“I will find you some literature now,” said Lady Caterham, rising.
She called in a piercing voice: “Miss Connor.”
A very neat secretary with a frightened expression came running. LadyCaterham gave her various directions. Presently Bundle was driving backto Brook Street with an armful of the driest-looking literature imaginable.
Her next proceeding was to ring up Jimmy Thesiger. His first wordswere full of triumph.
“I’ve managed it,” he said. “Had a lot of trouble with Bill, though. He’dgot it into his thick head that I should be a lamb among wolves. But I madehim see sense at last. I’ve got a lot of thingummybobs now and I’m study-ing them. You know, blue books and white papers. Deadly dull—but onemust do the thing properly. Have you ever heard of the Santa Fé boundarydispute?”
“Never,” said Bundle.
“Well, I’m taking special pains with that. It went on for years and wasvery complicated. I’m making it my subject. Nowadays one has to special-ize.”
“I’ve got a lot of the same sort of things,” said Bundle. “Aunt Marcia gavethem to me.”
“Aunt who?”
“Aunt Marica—Father’s sister-in-law. She’s very political. In fact, she’sgoing to get me invited to George’s party.”
“No? Oh, I say, that will be splendid.” There was a pause and thenJimmy said:
“I say, I don’t think we’d better tell Loraine that—eh?”
“Perhaps not.”
“You see, she mayn’t like being out of it. And she really must be kept outof it.”
“Yes.”
“I mean you can’t let a girl like that run into danger!”
Bundle reflected that Mr. Thesiger was slightly deficient in tact. The pro-spect of her running into danger did not seem to give him any qualmswhatever.
“Have you gone away?” asked Jimmy.
“No, I was only thinking.”
“I see. I say, are you going to the inquest tomorrow?”
“Yes, are you?”
“Yes. By the way, it’s in the evening papers. But tucked away in a corner.
Funny—I should have thought they’d have made rather a splash about it.”
“Yes—so should I.”
“Well,” said Jimmy, “I must be getting on with my task. I’ve just got towhere Bolivia sent us a Note.”
“I suppose I must get on with my little lot,” said Bundle. “Are you goingto swot at it all the evening?”
“I think so. Are you?”
“Oh, probably. Good night.”
They were both liars of the most unblushing order. Jimmy Thesigerknew perfectly well that he was taking Loraine Wade out to dinner.
As for Bundle, no sooner had she rung off than she attired herself invarious nondescript garments belonging, as a matter of fact, to her maid.
And having donned them she sallied out on foot deliberating whether busor tube would be the best route by which to reach the Seven Dials Club.
第十二章 烟囱别墅的调查
第十二章 烟囱别墅的调查
邦德尔的性格绝非来自她父亲的遗传，她父亲不喜欢动，平易近人。而邦德尔呢，她从来不会闲得让脚底下长出青草来。
在陪比尔一起吃晚饭后的第二天早上，邦德尔一觉醒来，觉得浑身上下都充满了力气。在这一天里，她有三个完全不同的计划要去执行，而且在时间和地点上都有一些吃紧。
好在她不像格里•韦德、罗尼•德弗卢和吉米•塞西杰一样喜欢赖床，在早起方面，就连奥斯瓦德•库特爵士也挑不出毛病。八点三十分刚过，邦德尔就已经吃好了早饭，钻进她那辆西斯巴诺，一溜烟地赶往烟囱别墅。
父亲见到她似乎很高兴。
“你总是神出鬼没，”他说道，“倒也省得我打电话了，我讨厌打电话。昨天梅尔罗斯上校来过，是验尸的事情。”
梅尔罗斯上校是郡警察局长，凯特勒姆勋爵的老朋友。
“你是说针对罗尼•德弗卢的验尸？什么时候？”
“明天中午十二点。梅尔罗斯会来找你。是你发现尸体的，你得作证。不过他说你没必要惊慌。”
“我为什么要惊慌？”
“哦，你知道的，”凯特勒姆勋爵有些歉意地说道，“梅尔罗斯有些古板。”
“十二点，”邦德尔说道，“好的。如果我还活着，我会在这里等他。”
“凭什么说你不会活着？”
“谁知道呢，”邦德尔答道，“现代生活的压力……就像报纸上说的。”
“这倒让我想起了乔治•洛马克斯，他要我下个星期到双足飞龙教堂去。当然，我已经回绝了。”
“还是不去的好，”邦德尔说道，“我们可不想让你卷进稀奇古怪的事情。”
“会有怪事发生吗？”凯特勒姆勋爵一下子提起了兴趣。
“哦……就是恐吓信之类的。”邦德尔说道。
“难道乔治会被暗杀？”凯特勒姆勋爵充满期待地说道，“你说呢，邦德尔？说不定我还是去一下比较好。”
“别那么残忍了，老老实实待在家里吧，”邦德尔说道，“我要去跟豪厄尔夫人谈谈。”
豪厄尔夫人是烟囱别墅的女管家，就是那个外表高贵、喜欢哑着嗓子叫唤、令库特夫人打心眼儿里害怕的女人。但她却不会让邦德尔害怕，其实她总是尊称她“邦德尔小姐”。
打邦德尔还是个两腿长长的顽皮小女孩时就是这样，那时她的父亲还没继承爵位。
“嗨，豪厄尔，”邦德尔说道，“一起去喝杯浓可可吧，再跟我说说家里面的新鲜事儿。”
没费多少工夫，邦德尔就搜罗到了她想要的东西，并且在脑子里记下了大概——两个新来的女帮厨，都是乡下女孩，好像不怎么称职。第三个新来的打扫屋子的女仆是管事女仆的侄女，似乎没什么问题。豪厄尔好像常常欺负可怜的库特夫人，她绝对做得出来。
“我从没想到烟囱别墅会有陌生人住进来，邦德尔小姐。”
“噢！人必须顺应潮流，”邦德尔答道，“要是你永远看不到这里被改建成娱乐场所，那你才算走运呢，豪厄尔。”
保守的豪厄尔脊背一凉，打了个哆嗦。
“我还没见过奥斯瓦德•库特爵士。”邦德尔说道。
“奥斯瓦德爵士无疑是个聪明人。”豪厄尔冷冷地答道。
邦德尔心想，看来奥斯瓦德爵士不是很受仆人们的欢迎。
“当然，负责打点的是贝特曼先生，”女管家接着说道，“非常能干的先生。真的很能干，什么事情都办得很好。”
邦德尔谈题一转，开始说起格里•韦德的死来。豪厄尔夫人更是求之不得，口若悬河地说起来，语气中充满了同情。但邦德尔并没有搜罗到有价值的东西，很快她就辞别豪厄尔夫人下楼去了，然后立刻按铃把特雷德韦尔召来。
“特雷德韦尔，阿尔弗雷德是什么时候走的？”
“大概有一个月了吧，小姐。”
“他为什么要走？”
“他自己想走的，小姐。我想他到伦敦去了。我对他并没有什么不满。我想，您会对新来的听差约翰满意的，他相当称职，而且乐于表现。”
“他从什么地方来的？”
“他的推荐人很可靠，小姐。先前他在蒙特•弗农勋爵家干活。”“哦，是这样。”邦德尔若有所思地答道。
她想起了蒙特•弗农勋爵此刻正在东非狩猎旅行。
“他姓什么，特雷德韦尔？”
“姓包尔，小姐。”
特雷德韦尔待了一两分钟，见邦德尔问完了，便轻手轻脚地离开了房间。邦德尔仍然在沉思。
回到烟囱别墅的那天是约翰开的门，她曾暗暗地打量过他。约翰看上去是个无可挑剔的听差，训练有素，低调不张扬。也许他比大多数听差更有军人的味道，后脑勺的样子也有点儿怪。
但邦德尔明白，这些细节跟眼下的情况扯不上边。她坐在那儿，愁眉不展地盯着面前的吸墨纸，手里拿着一支铅笔，在上面漫无目的地划着“包尔”这个名字。
突然，她脑子里闪过一个念头。她停住了笔，凝视着刚才写过的名字。然后，她又一次召来特雷德韦尔。
“特雷德韦尔，‘包尔’这个姓是怎么拼的？”
“B—A—U—E—R，小姐。”
“这不是英国人的姓。”
“我猜他有瑞士血统，小姐。”
“噢！没你的事儿了，特雷德韦尔，谢谢你。”
瑞士血统？不，是德国血统！瞧那副军人的架势，扁平的后脑勺，还有，在格里•韦德死前两周才来到烟囱别墅。
邦德尔站起身来。在这里能做的她都做了，现在该进行下一步了！她去找父亲。
“我又要走了，”她说道，“我要去看看玛西亚伯母。”
“去看玛西亚？”凯特勒姆勋爵惊讶地问道，“可怜的孩子，为什么你非要去自讨没趣呢？”
“就这一次，”邦德尔答道，“我正好要去办点事。”
凯特勒姆勋爵吃惊地看着她，搞不懂竟然有人想去见他那位令人望而生畏的嫂子。玛西亚•凯特勒姆侯爵夫人是他哥哥亨利的遗孀，个性鲜明。凯特勒姆勋爵承认，她确实是亨利的贤内助，要不是她，亨利不可能当上外交大臣。但从另一方面来说，他总是认为亨利的早逝对他来说是一大解脱。
在他看来，邦德尔这次简直是羊入虎口，太蠢了。
“噢！听我的，”他说道，“别去了。你不知道会出什么事呢。”
“我知道，”邦德尔安慰道，“没事的，爸爸，您不用为我担心。”
凯特勒姆勋爵叹了口气，在椅子上扭了扭身子，让自己坐得更舒服些。他又开始细细品读手上的《赛场》杂志来。可是没过多久，邦德尔又把头探了进来。
“对不起，”她说到，“还有一件事我想问问，奥斯瓦德•库特爵士是干什么的？”
“我不是说过了吗，蒸汽压路机。”
“我不是问你对他的印象。我想知道他是怎么赚钱的，做裤子钮扣，还是什么别的？”
“哦，我明白了。他是搞钢铁的，有一家全英国最大的钢铁厂，或者类似什么的，随便你怎么说吧。当然，他现在用不着亲自打理了。是一家公司，也许是好几家。他请我当了个董事，或者类似的职位，对我来说相当不错，什么事也不用做，大家每年到城里的大饭店去一两次，景隆街或利物浦街，围坐在一张摆放着考究文具的桌子旁，然后听库特或者哪个精明的家伙发表一通演讲，里面尽是数字。不过，好在听不听都无所谓，而且我告诉你，开完会常常还有一顿丰盛的午餐。”
邦德尔对凯特勒姆勋爵说的午餐并不感兴趣，没等他说完，她就走开了。在回伦敦的路上，她琢磨着怎么把搜集到的所有信息串联起来。
目前看来，钢铁和婴儿福利似乎扯不上边。那么，其中必定有一个是幌子，想必是后者了。麦卡塔夫人和那个年轻的匈牙利伯爵夫人就可以排除了，她们只是被用来掩人耳目的。对了，整件事的关键似乎是那个不起眼的赫尔•埃伯哈德先生。他不像是乔治•洛马克斯会邀请的那类人。比尔含含糊糊说过他是搞发明的。还有就是航空部长和做钢铁生意的奥斯瓦德•库特爵士。这些人凑在一起必有原因。
再猜下去也不会有什么结果，所以邦德尔索性不再想了，专心思考起即将与凯特勒姆侯爵夫人的见面。
侯爵夫人住在伦敦上流社区一幢幽暗的大房子里，里面弥漫着火漆、鸟食和花朵略微腐败的气息。凯特勒姆侯爵夫人是一个身材臃肿的女人，身上无论什么地方都硕大无比。
她的体态不仅仅是丰满，简直可以用巨大来形容了。她长着一个硕大的鹰钩鼻，戴着一副金边夹鼻眼镜，嘴唇上面的汗毛浓密得让人怀疑是不是长了一撇小胡子。
见到侄女，她有些惊讶，但脸上还是冷冰冰的。邦德尔得体地亲了她一下。
“真是少见呀，艾琳。”她冷冷地说。
“我们刚回来，玛西亚伯母。”
“我知道。你父亲好吗？还是跟以前一样？”
她的语气带着轻蔑，对第九任凯特勒姆勋爵阿拉斯泰尔•爱德华•布伦特没有丝毫好感。
如果她听说过“可怜虫”这个词，一定会这么称呼他的。
“爸爸很好，他现在在烟囱别墅。”
“哦。艾琳，你知道的，我一向不赞成把烟囱别墅租出去。从很多方面来说，那儿就是一个历史纪念碑，不该让它掉价。”
“亨利伯伯在世的时候它一定很风光。”邦德尔微微叹了口气。
“亨利明白自己的责任。”亨利的遗孀说道。
“想想到那里的客人，”邦德尔出神地说道，“全是欧洲的政要。”
凯特勒姆侯爵夫人叹了口气。
“凭良心说，那儿不止一次创造了历史，”她感慨道，“要是你父亲……”
她伤心地摇了摇头。
“我爸爸厌倦了政治，”邦德尔说道，“不过我倒觉得政治是一门令人着迷的学问，尤其是对知晓其中内幕的人来说。”
她说这番话完全是言不由衷，但却丝毫没有脸红。玛西亚伯母有点吃惊地看着她。
“很高兴听你这么说，”她说道，“艾琳，我总以为你除了及时行乐之外，对其他的都漠不关心。”
“以前是这样的。”邦德尔答道。
“你还年轻，这不错，”凯特勒姆侯爵夫人若有所思地说道，“凭你的优点，如果你嫁对了人，就有可能成为当今政坛最重要的女政治家。”
邦德尔吓了一跳。有那么一会儿，她甚至担心这位伯母马上就会给她找一位合适的丈夫来。
“但我觉得自己太笨了，”邦德尔说道，“什么都不懂。”
“这个容易，”凯特勒姆侯爵夫人爽快地说道，“我有一些资料，你可以拿去看看。”
“谢谢您，玛西亚伯母。”邦德尔说道，接着她又发起了第二轮进攻。
“不知道您认不认识麦卡塔夫人？”
“当然认识。她是一位值得尊重的女性，出类拔萃。我一般不赞同女性加入议会，她们可以用女性的方式来发挥影响力。”她顿了顿，毫无疑问在回忆以往的岁月。她就是采用女性的方式把不情愿的丈夫推入政坛，然后共同努力取得了巨大的成功。
“不过时代不同了，麦卡塔夫人做的是能够影响全国的大事，而且对所有的女性都有价值。可以这么说，这才是真正的女人的工作。你一定要见见麦卡塔夫人。”
邦德尔有点沮丧地叹了口气。
“下个星期她会参加乔治•洛马克斯举办的家庭晚会。乔治邀请了爸爸，但是爸爸当然是不会去的。可他从没想过邀请我，大概是觉得我太无知了吧。”
凯特勒姆侯爵夫人忽然觉得她的侄女有了惊人的进步。是不是经历了一次失恋？在凯特勒姆侯爵夫人看来，失恋对年轻姑娘往往很有益，可以令她们更严肃地对待生活。
“大概乔治•洛马克斯还没想到你已经……我们这么说吧，长大成人了。亲爱的艾琳，”她安慰道，“我必须找他谈谈。”
“他不喜欢我，”邦德尔说道，“我知道他不会邀请我的。”
“胡说，”凯特勒姆侯爵夫人说道，“我去跟他说。乔治•洛马克斯才这么点大时我就认识他了。”她比划了一个太不靠谱的身高，接着说道，“他肯定会乐于帮我这个忙的。而且他一定很明白，我们这个阶层的年轻女性贡献才智为国家谋福，这是非常重要的。”
“听听，听听……”这句话邦德尔几乎要脱口而出，不过她硬是忍住了。
“我这就去给你找些资料来。”凯特勒姆侯爵夫人说着站起身来，尖声叫道，“康纳小姐！”
一个打扮清爽却面带惊慌的秘书跑了进来。凯特勒姆侯爵夫人向她吩咐了一大堆事情。不久，邦德尔就带着一大堆最枯燥乏味的资料驱车返回布鲁克街了。
下一步是打电话给吉米•塞西杰。他一开口就透露出成功的喜悦。
“我办好了，”他说道，“虽然在比尔那儿费了不少工夫。他总是担心我会羊入虎口。不过我终于把他说通了。我拿到了一大堆东西，正在细读呢。尽是些蓝皮书和白皮书之类的，乏味得很……不过总得理出个头绪来。你有没有听说过圣菲边境争端？”
“从没听过。”邦德尔答道。
“哦，这个问题可费脑筋了。争端持续了好几年，而且非常复杂。我要拿它当做研究课题，这年头人人都得学有专长才行。”
“我也弄到了一大堆类似的东西，”邦德尔说道，“玛西亚伯母给我的。”
“什么伯母？”
“玛西亚伯母……我爸爸的嫂子。她醉心政治，还会想办法让我参加乔治的晚会呢。”
“是吗？噢，这太好了。”停顿了一下，吉米接着说道，“对了，我想这件事我们最好不要告诉洛兰了，你觉得呢？”
“也许吧。”
“她可能会不高兴，但她真的不必卷进来。”
“对。”
“我是说不能让像她那样的女孩去冒险！”
邦德尔心想，吉米说话真不够意思——我也会遇到危险的呀，可是他似乎不怎么担心。
“还在吗？”吉米问道。
“在，我在想事情。”
“哦。明天的验尸你去吗？”
“要去的。你呢？”
“我也去。对了，晚报上有消息了，但只是登在不起眼的角落里。有意思……我还以为他们会大做文章呢。”
“是的，我也是这么想的。”
“哦，”吉米说道，“我得接着看材料了，我才读到波利维亚给英国发照会那一段。”
“我也要做点功课了，”邦德尔说道，“你要看个通宵吗？”
“大概吧。你呢？”
“噢，也有可能。晚安。”
他们两个都是那种说谎不脸红的人。吉米•塞西杰正准备带洛兰•韦德出去吃晚饭。
至于邦德尔，她一挂上电话就穿上了向女仆借来的便装。换好衣服，她一边走出门，一边想着是坐公共汽车还是坐地铁到七面钟俱乐部更方便。
Thirteen HE SEVEN DIALS CLUB
Thirteen HE SEVEN DIALS CLUB

Bundle reached 14 Hunstanton Street about six p.m. At that hour, as sherightly judged, the Seven Dials Club was a dead spot. Bundle’s aim was asimple one. She intended to get hold of the ex-footman Alfred. She wasconvinced that once she had got hold of him the rest would be easy.
Bundle had a simple autocratic method of dealing with retainers. It sel-dom failed, and she saw no reason why it should fail now.
The only thing of which she was not certain was how many people in-habited the club premises. Naturally she wished to disclose her presenceto as few people as possible.
Whilst she was hesitating as to the best line of attack, the problem wassolved for her in a singularly easy fashion. The door of No 14 opened andAlfred himself came out.
“Good afternoon, Alfred,” said Bundle pleasantly.
Alfred jumped.
“Oh! good afternoon, your ladyship. I—I didn’t recognize your ladyshipjust for a moment.”
Paying a tribute in her own mind to her maid’s clothing, Bundle pro-ceeded to business.
“I want a few words with you, Alfred. Where shall we go?”
“Well—really, my lady—I don’t know—it’s not what you might call anice part round here—I don’t know, I’m sure—”
Bundle cut him short.
“Who’s in the club?”
“No one at present, my lady.”
“Then we’ll go in there.”
Alfred produced a key and opened the door. Bundle passed in. Alfred,troubled and sheepish, followed her. Bundle sat down and looked straightat the uncomfortable Alfred.
“I suppose you know,” she said crisply, “that what you’re doing here isdead against the law?”
Alfred shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
“It’s true as we’ve been raided twice,” he admitted. “But nothing com-promising was found, owing to the neatness of Mr. Mosgorovsky’s ar-rangements.”
“I’m not talking of the gambling only,” said Bundle. There’s more thanthat—probably a great deal more than you know. I’m going to ask you adirect question, Alfred, and I should like the truth, please. How much wereyou paid for leaving Chimneys?”
Alfred looked twice round the cornice as though seeking for inspiration,swallowed three or four times, and then took the inevitable course of aweak will opposed to a strong one.
“It was this way, your ladyship. Mr. Mosgorovsky, he come with a partyto visit Chimneys on one of the show days. Mr. Tredwell, he was indis-posed like—an ingrowing toenail as a matter of fact—so it fell to me toshow the parties over. At the end of the tour Mr. Mosgorovsky, he stays be-hind the rest, and after giving me something handsome, he falls into con-versation.”
“Yes,” said Bundle encouragingly.
“And the long and the short of it was,” said Alfred, with a sudden accel-eration of his narrative, “that he offers me a hundred pound down toleave that instant and to look after this here club. He wanted someone aswas used to the best families—to give the place a tone, as he put it. And,well, it seemed flying in the face of providence to refuse—let alone thatthe wages I get here are just three times what they were as second foot-man.”
“A hundred pounds,” said Bundle. “That’s a very large sum, Alfred. Didthey say anything about who was to fill your place at Chimneys?”
“I demurred a bit, my lady, about leaving at once. As I pointed out, itwasn’t usual and might cause inconvenience. But Mr. Mosgorovsky heknew of a young chap — been in good service and ready to come anyminute. So I mentioned his name to Mr. Tredwell and everything wassettled pleasant-like.”
Bundle nodded. Her own suspicions had been correct and the modus op-erandi was much as she had thought it to be. She essayed a further in-quiry.
“Who is Mr. Mosgorovsky?”
“Gentleman as runs this club. Russian gentleman. A very clever gentle-man too.”
Bundle abandoned the getting of information for the moment and pro-ceeded to other matters.
“A hundred pounds is a very large sum of money, Alfred.”
“Larger than I ever handled, my lady,” said Alfred with simple candour.
“Did you ever suspect that there was something wrong?”
“Wrong, my lady?”
“Yes. I’m not talking about the gambling. I mean something far moreserious. You don’t want to be sent to penal servitude, do you, Alfred?”
“Oh, Lord! my lady, you don’t mean it?”
“I was at Scotland Yard the day before yesterday,” said Bundle impress-ively. “I heard some very curious things. I want you to help me, Alfred,and if you do, well—if things go wrong, I’ll put in a good word for you.”
“Anything I can do, I shall be only too pleased, my lady. I mean I wouldanyway.”
“Well, first,” said Bundle, “I want to go all over this place—from top tobottom.”
Accompanied by a mystified and scared Alfred, she made a very thor-ough tour of inspection. Nothing struck her eye till she came to the gamingroom. There she noticed an inconspicuous door in the corner, and thedoor was locked.
Alfred explained readily.
“That’s used as a getaway, your ladyship. There’s a room and a door onto a staircase what comes out in the next street. That’s the way the gentrygoes when there’s a raid.”
“But don’t the police know about it?”
“It’s a cunning door, you see, my lady. Looks like a cupboard, that’s all.”
Bundle felt a rising excitement.
“I must get in there,” she said.
Alfred shook his head.
“You can’t, my lady; Mr. Mosgorovsky, he has the key.”
“Well,” said Bundle, “there are other keys.”
She perceived that the lock was a perfectly ordinary one which prob-ably could be easily unlocked by the key of one of the other doors. Alfred,rather troubled, was sent to collect likely specimens. The fourth thatBundle tried fitted. She turned it, opened the door and passed through.
She found herself in a small, dingy apartment. A long table occupied thecentre of the room with chairs ranged round it. There was no other fur-niture in the room. Two built-in cupboards stood on either side of the fire-place. Alfred indicated the nearer one with a nod.
“That’s it,” he explained.
Bundle tried the cupboard door, but it was locked, and she saw at oncethat this lock was a very different affair. It was of the patent kind thatwould only yield to its own key.
“ ’Ighly ingenious, it is,” explained Alfred. “It looks all right whenopened. Shelves, you know, with a few ledgers and that on ’em. Nobody’dever suspect, but you touch the right spot and the whole things swingsopen.”
Bundle had turned round and was surveying the room thoughtfully. Thefirst thing she noticed was that the door by which they had entered wascarefully fitted round with baize. It must be completely soundproof. Thenher eyes wandered to the chairs. There were seven of them, three eachside and one rather more imposing in design at the head of the table.
Bundle’s eyes brightened. She had found what she was looking for. This,she felt sure, was the meeting place of the secret organization. The placewas almost perfectly planned. It looked so innocent—you could reach itjust by stepping through from the gaming room, or you could arrive thereby the secret entrance—and any secrecy, any precautions were easily ex-plained by the gaming going on in the next room.
Idly, as these thoughts passed through her mind, she drew a fingeracross the marble of the mantelpiece. Alfred saw and misinterpreted theaction.
“You won’t find no dirt, not to speak of,” he said. “Mr. Mosgorovsky, heordered the place to be swept out this morning, and I did it while hewaited.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, thinking very hard. “This morning, eh?”
“Has to be done sometimes,” said Alfred. “Though the room’s neverwhat you might call used.”
Next minute he received a shock.
“Alfred,” said Bundle, “you’ve got to find me a place in this room where Ican hide.”
Alfred looked at her in dismay.
“But it’s impossible, my lady. You’ll get me into trouble and I’ll lose myjob.”
“You’ll lose it anyway when you go to prison,” said Bundle unkindly.
“But as a matter of fact, you needn’t worry, nobody will know anythingabout it.”
“And there ain’t no place,” wailed Alfred. “Look round for yourself, yourladyship, if you don’t believe me.”
Bundle was forced to admit that there was something in this argument.
But she had the true spirit of one undertaking adventures.
“Nonsense,” she said with determination. “There has got to be a place.”
“But there ain’t one,” wailed Alfred.
Never had a room shown itself more unpropitious for concealment.
Dingy blinds were drawn down over the dirty window panes, and therewere no curtains. The window sill outside, which Bundle examined, wasabout four inches wide! Inside the room there were the table, the chairsand the cupboards.
The second cupboard had a key in the lock. Bundle went across andpulled it open. Inside were shelves covered with an odd assortment ofglasses and crockery.
“Surplus stuff as we don’t use,” explained Alfred. “You can see for your-self, my lady, there’s no place here as a cat could hide.”
But Bundle was examining the shelves.
“Flimsy work,” she said. “Now then, Alfred, have you got a cupboarddownstairs where you could shove all this glass? You have? Good. Thenget a tray and start to carry it down at once. Hurry—there’s no time tolose.”
“You can’t, my lady. And it’s getting late, too. The cooks will be here anyminute now.”
“Mr. Mosgo—whatnot doesn’t come till later, I suppose?”
“He’s never here much before midnight. But oh, my lady—”
“Don’t talk so much, Alfred,” said Bundle. “Get that tray. If you stay herearguing, you will get into trouble.”
Doing what is familiarly known as “wringing his hands,” Alfred depar-ted. Presently he returned with a tray, and having by now realized that hisprotests were useless, he worked with a nervous energy quite surprising.
As Bundle had seen, the shelves were easily detachable. She took themdown, ranged them upright against the wall, and then stepped in.
“H’m,” she remarked. “Pretty narrow. It’s going to be a tight fit. Shut thedoor on me carefully, Alfred—that’s right. Yes, it can be done. Now I wanta gimlet.”
“A gimlet, my lady?”
“That’s what I said.”
“I don’t know—”
“Nonsense, you must have a gimlet—perhaps you’ve got an auger aswell. If you haven’t got what I want, you’ll have to go out and buy it, soyou’d better try hard to find the right thing.”
Alfred departed and returned presently with quite a creditable assort-ment of tools. Bundle seized what she wanted and proceeded swiftly andefficiently to bore a small hole at the level of her right eye. She did thisfrom the outside so that it should be less noticeable, and she dared notmake it too large lest it should attract attention.
“There, that’ll do,” she remarked at last.
“Oh, but, my lady, my lady—”
“Yes?”
“But they’ll find you—if they should open the door.”
“They won’t open the door,” said Bundle. “Because you are going to lockit and take the key away.”
“And if by chance Mr. Mosgorovsky should ask for the key?”
“Tell him it’s lost,” said Bundle briskly. “But nobody’s going to worryabout this cupboard—it’s only here to attract attention from the other oneand make it a pair. Go on, Alfred, someone might come at any time. Lockme in and take the key and come and let me out when everyone’s gone.”
“You’ll be taken bad, my lady. You’ll faint—”
“I never faint,” said Bundle. “But you might as well get me a cocktail. Ishall certainly need it. Then lock the door of the room again—don’t forget—and take the door keys back to their proper doors. And Alfred—don’t betoo much of a rabbit. Remember, if anything goes wrong, I’ll see youthrough.”
“And that’s that,” said Bundle to herself, when having served the cock-tail, Alfred had finally departed.
She was not nervous lest Alfred’s nerve should fail and he should giveher away. She knew that his sense of self-preservation was far too strongfor that. His training alone helped him to conceal private emotions be-neath the mask of a well-trained servant.
Only one thing worried Bundle. The interpretation she had chosen toput upon the cleaning of the room that morning might be all wrong. And ifso—Bundle sighed in the narrow confines of the cupboard. The prospectof spending long hours in it for nothing was not attractive.
第十三章 七面钟俱乐部
第十三章 七面钟俱乐部
大约下午六点，邦德尔来到了汉斯坦街十四号。不出她所料，此时的七面钟俱乐部一片死寂。邦德尔的目的很简单，她打算找到以前的听差阿尔弗雷德。她相信只要找到了他，其他的就好办了。邦德尔自有一套对付仆人的方法，既简单又专横，屡试不爽。她看不出这一次有什么理由不会成功。
她唯一不确定的是有多少人在俱乐部里，她当然希望看到她来过的人越少越好。
正当她拿不定主意该如何入手时，这个问题却轻易地自行解决了。十四号的门打开了，走出来的正是阿尔弗雷德。
“下午好，阿尔弗雷德。”邦德尔开心地说道。
阿尔弗雷德吓了一跳。
“噢！下午好，小姐，我……我刚才没认出来是您。”
看来这套借来的衣服挺管用。邦德尔单刀直入。
“我想跟你说几句话，阿尔弗雷德，什么地方比较方便？”
“呃……真的，小姐……我不知道……这儿算不上好地方……我不知道，我敢肯定——”
邦德尔打断了他的话。
“俱乐部里有什么人？”
“现在没有人，小姐。”
“那我们进去吧。”
阿尔弗雷德取出钥匙打开门，邦德尔走了进去。阿尔弗雷德面露难色，顺从地跟在身后。邦德尔坐了下来，直视着浑身不自在的阿尔弗雷德。
“我想你知道，”她干脆地说道，“你在这里的所作所为绝对是违法的。”
阿尔弗雷德不安地扭动着身子。
“确实被突击检查过两次，”他承认道，“但没有发现对我们不利的东西，这多亏了莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生的精心安排。”
“我说的不仅是赌搏，”邦德尔说道，“还有更多的……比你知道的多得多。我只问你一个问题，希望你老老实实回答，阿尔弗雷德。他们给了你多少钱叫你离开烟囱别墅？”
阿尔弗雷德的视线沿着屋檐转了两圈，似乎在找寻灵感，有三四次他想开口，却又把嘴边的话咽了回去，但最终，他还是屈服了。
“是这样的，小姐。有一天莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生带了一群人去烟囱别墅参观。碰巧特雷德韦尔先生身体不舒服……脚趾甲发炎了……所以就叫我领着他们参观。参观结束之后，莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生是最后一个走的，他给了我一大笔钱，还跟我聊天。”
“嗯。”邦德尔用鼓励的语气说道。
“总之，”阿尔弗雷德突然加快了说话的速度，“他给了我一百英镑，要我立刻离开那里，到这儿来照管俱乐部。他想找一个在大户人家待过的人，好让这个地方有些品位……他就是这么说的。呃，要是拒绝的话好像有违上天的美意……更何况这里的薪水是我当听差时的三倍。”
“一百英镑，”邦德尔说道，“那是个很大的数目了，阿尔弗雷德。他们有没有提到过由谁来接替你在烟囱别墅的位置？”
“小姐，我当时并没有答应马上就离开烟囱别墅。我对他说，这件事非同小可，而且有可能惹麻烦。可是莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生说他认识一个年轻人，是个不错的仆人，而且随时可以过来。于是我就把这个人的名字告诉了特雷德韦尔先生，后来所有的事情都安排好了。”
邦德尔点了点头。她的怀疑是对的，而且手法也不出所料。她接着问道：
“莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生是什么人？”
“开这家俱乐部的一位绅士，俄国人，非常聪明。”
邦德尔暂时停下了搜集情报的想法，转移了话题。
“一百英镑可是很大的一笔钱，阿尔弗雷德。”
“我还从没见过这么一大笔钱呢，小姐。”阿尔弗雷德坦诚地说道。
“你没觉得有什么不对劲吗？”
“不对劲，小姐？”
“是的，我不是说赌博，我是说更严重的事情。你不想被抓去做苦役吧，阿尔弗雷德？”
“噢，天哪！您不是说真的吧，小姐？”
“前天我去了一次苏格兰场，”邦德尔说道，“我听到了一些见不得人的勾当。我希望你能帮到我，阿尔弗雷德，如果你帮了我……一旦出了事，我会替你说情的。”
“只要我能做到，一定效劳，小姐。我是说不管怎样我都会帮您的。”
“那好，”邦德尔说道，“我先要仔仔细细把这里看一遍。”
在惊恐的阿尔弗雷德的陪同之下，她非常彻底地检查了一遍，没发现什么特别之处，直到来到赌博室。她注意到角落里有一道很不起眼的门，还上了锁。
阿尔弗雷德马上解释道：
“这是逃跑用的，小姐。里面是个房间，房门口有一个楼梯，直通到隔壁的那条街。如果有突击检查，那些人就是从这里逃走的。”
“难道警察不知道吗？”
“这是一道暗门，小姐。您看，从外面看就像一个壁橱。”
邦德尔不禁一阵兴奋。
“我要进去看看。”她要求道。
阿尔弗雷德摇了摇头。
“不行，小姐，钥匙在莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生手里。”
“哦，”邦德尔说，“那就试试别的钥匙吧。”
她觉得这不过是一把很普通的门锁，很可能用类似的钥匙就可以轻易打开。邦德尔吩咐仍然局促不安的阿尔弗雷德去把可能用得着的钥匙都找来。当试到第四把钥匙时，门打开了，邦德尔走了进去。
里面是一个又乱又暗的小房间，中间是一张长条桌，四周摆放着椅子，除此之外没有其他家具。在壁炉两侧分别有一个嵌入墙壁的壁橱。阿尔弗雷德对靠他们较近的那个扬了扬头。
“就是这个。”他解释道。
邦德尔试着打开，但没有成功，这把锁跟刚才的完全不同，只有原配的钥匙才可以打开。
“这东西非常精巧，”阿尔弗雷德说道，“里面只有一些架子，上面有些账簿，看上去没什么不正常的，不会有人怀疑。不过碰一下右边的一个地方，整个壁橱就会转过来。”
邦德尔转过身，仔仔细细地打量着这个房间。她首先注意到的是，进来的那道门框四周都用粗呢布包裹着，完全是为了隔音。接着她的目光移向那些椅子。一共有七把，长条桌的两侧各有三把，另外一把则摆放在桌子的一端，外观设计也比其他的椅子气派得多。
邦德尔眼睛一亮，她已经发现了自己要找的东西。她确信这就是秘密组织聚会的地点。这种安排几乎无可挑剔，看起来非常实用——只能从赌博室或者壁橱暗门才可以进来——任何秘密都可以通过隔壁的赌博室来加以掩饰。
她一边想着，一边用手指无聊地划着壁炉架上的大理石。阿尔弗雷德误解了她的这个举动。
“您找不到灰尘的，可以这么说，”他说道，“今天早上莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生叫我把这里打扫干净，他看着我全擦干净了才走的。”
“噢，”邦德尔一边说着，一边开动脑筋，“今天早上？”
“有时是要打扫一下，”阿尔弗雷德答道，“就算这个房间从来没有正式使用过也一样。”
“阿尔弗雷德，”邦德尔说道，“你得想办法找个地方让我藏起来。”
阿尔弗雷德惊愕地看着她。
“可是，这是不可能的，小姐。我会惹上麻烦，丢了工作的。”
“你要是被关进牢房，也会丢了工作的，”邦德尔刻薄地说道，“不过你用不着担心，没人会知道的。”
“但根本就没有地方可以藏啊，”阿尔弗雷德哭丧着脸说道，“不相信的话，您自己找好了，小姐。”
邦德尔不得不承认他的话有道理，但是她有着真正的冒险家精神。
“胡说，”她坚决地说道，“肯定有地方。”
“真的没有啊。”阿尔弗雷德仍然哭丧着脸。
再没有哪个房间比这里更不适合藏身了。破败的百叶窗拉下来遮住了肮脏的窗户，上面没有悬挂窗帘。邦德尔检查了外面的窗台，竟然只有四英寸宽！房间里只有桌子、椅子和壁橱。
另外一个壁橱上插着一把钥匙，邦德尔走过去把橱门打开，里面的架子上摆满了各式各样的玻璃杯和陶器。
“都是些用不上的东西，”阿尔弗雷德解释道，“您也看到了，小姐，这里连藏只小猫的地方都没有。”
但邦德尔却在查看那些橱架。
“不是很牢嘛，”她说道，“阿尔弗雷德，楼下有没有碗橱可以把这些东西装起来？有？
好的，去拿个托盘来，赶紧把它们拿下去。快点……没时间了。”
“您不能这样，小姐。而且也晚了，厨师随时都会来。”
“莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生大概很晚才会来吧？”
“他总是后半夜才来。可是，噢，小姐……”
“不要多说了，阿尔弗雷德，”邦德尔说道，“快去把托盘拿过来。你要是再争辩的话，你就有麻烦了。”
阿尔弗雷德绞着双手苦恼地离开了。
很快他又端着托盘回来，他知道争辩是没有用了，所以手脚相当麻利地干起来。
不出邦德尔所料，橱架很容易就取下来了。她把架子拆下来，把它们靠在墙上，然后跨了进去。
“嗯，”她说道，“很窄，但刚刚好。关上门，小心点，阿尔弗雷德……对，就这样，能关上。现在我要一把螺丝锥。”
“螺丝锥，小姐？”
“没错。”
“我不知道……”
“少废话，你肯定有……说不定还有一把大锥子。要是找不到我要的，你必须出去买，所以你还是用心去找吧。”
阿尔弗雷德离开了，很快他就带着一大堆工具回来了。邦德尔挑出她需要的工具，小心翼翼地在橱门上钻了一个小孔，高度与右眼齐平。为了让人不易察觉，这个孔是从外面钻的，而且是个很小的孔。
“好了，大功告成。”她终于说道。
“哦，可是，小姐，小姐……”
“怎么啦？”
“可是他们会发现你……如果他们打开橱门。”
“他们不会开橱门的，”邦德尔答道，“你先把它锁上，再把钥匙拿走。”
“万一莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生问我要钥匙怎么办？”
“你就跟他说弄丢了，”邦德尔轻松地说道，“没有人会理会这个壁橱的……它不过是用来配对掩人耳目，不让人注意另一个橱柜而已。去吧，阿尔弗雷德，说不定随时会有人来。把我锁在里面，把钥匙拿走，等这里没人了，再打开让我出去。”
“您会很难受的，小姐。您会昏倒的……”
“我绝对不会昏倒，”邦德尔答道，“不过，你可以弄杯鸡尾酒给我，我会用得着。再把房间的门锁上……不要忘了……把那些钥匙放回原处。还有，阿尔弗雷德……不要那么胆小，免得露了马脚。记住，要是出了岔子，我保证你会没事的。”
阿尔弗雷德把鸡尾酒送来之后就离开了。
“就这样吧。”邦德尔接过鸡尾酒，自言自语地说道。
邦德尔丝毫不担心阿尔弗雷德会因为胆小而把她出卖了。她知道他的自我保护意识要比他经受的考验强烈得多。他是一个训练有素的仆人，能轻易地把个人情感隐藏在那张仆人的面具之下。
邦德尔只担心一件事，那就是她对今天早上打扫这个房间的理解也许完全是错误的。
如果真是这样——邦德尔在狭小的壁橱里叹了口气，在这里守那么久却一无所获，那可就大大不妙了。
Fourteen HE MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS
Fourteen HE MEETING OF THE SEVEN DIALS

It would be as well to pass over the sufferings of the next four hours asquickly as possible. Bundle found her position extremely cramped. Shehad judged that the meeting, if meeting there was to be, would take placeat a time when the club was in full swing—somewhere probably betweenthe hours of midnight and two a.m.
She was just deciding that it must be at least six o’clock in the morningwhen a welcome sound come to her ears, the sound of the unlocking of adoor.
In another minute the electric light was switched on. The hum of voices,which had come to her for a minute or two, rather like the far-off roar ofsea waves, ceased as suddenly as it had begun, and Bundle heard thesound of a bolt being shot. Clearly someone had come in from the gamingroom next door, and she paid tribute to the thoroughness with which thecommunicating door had been rendered soundproof.
In another minute the intruder came into her line of vision—a line ofvision that was necessarily somewhat incomplete but which yet answeredits purpose. A tall man, broad-shouldered and powerful looking, with along black beard, Bundle remembered having seen him sitting at one ofthe baccarat tables on the preceding night.
This, then, was Alfred’s mysterious Russian gentleman, the proprietor ofthe club, the sinister Mr. Mosgorovsky. Bundle’s heart beat faster with ex-citement. So little did she resemble her father that at this minute she fairlygloried in the extreme discomfort of her position.
The Russian remained for some minutes standing by the table, strokinghis beard. Then he drew a watch from his pocket and glanced at the time.
Nodding his head as though satisfied, he again thrust his hand into hispocket and, pulling out something that Bundle could not see, he moved outof the line of vision.
When he reappeared she could hardly help giving a gasp of surprise.
His face was now covered by a mask—but hardly a mask in the conven-tional sense. It was not shaped to the face. It was a mere piece of materialhanging in front of the features like a curtain in which two slits werepierced for the eyes. In shape it was round and on it was the representa-tion of a clock face, with the hands pointing to six o’clock.
“The Seven Dials!” said Bundle to herself.
And at that minute there came a new sound—seven muffled taps.
Mosgorovsky strode across to where Bundle knew was the other cup-board door. She heard a sharp click, and then the sound of greetings in aforeign tongue.
Presently she had a view of the newcomers.
They also wore clock masks, but in their case the hands were in a differ-ent position—four o’clock and five o’clock respectively. Both men were inevening dress—but with a difference. One was an elegant, slender youngman wearing evening clothes of exquisite cut. The grace with which hemoved was foreign rather than English. The other man could be better de-scribed as wiry and lean. His clothes fitted him sufficiently well, but nomore, and Bundle guessed at his nationality even before she heard hisvoice.
“I reckon we’re the first to arrive at this little meeting.”
A full pleasant voice with a slight American drawl, and an inflection ofIrish behind it.
The elegant young man said in good, but slightly stilted English:
“I had much difficulty in getting away tonight. These things do not al-ways arrange themselves fortunately. I am not, like No 4 here, my ownmaster.”
Bundle tried to guess at his nationality. Until he spoke, she had thoughthe might be French, but the accent was not a French one. He might pos-sibly, she thought, be an Austrian, or a Hungarian, or even a Russian.
The American moved to the other side of the table, and Bundle heard achair being pulled out.
“One o’clock’s being a great success,” he said. “I congratulate you on tak-ing the risk.”
Five o’clock shrugged his shoulders.
“Unless one takes risks—” He left the sentence unfinished.
Again seven taps sounded and Mosgorovsky moved across to the secretdoor.
She failed to catch anything definite for some moments since the wholecompany were out of sight, but presently she heard the bearded Russian’svoice upraised.
“Shall we begin proceedings?”
He himself came round the table and took the seat next to the armchairat the top. Sitting thus, he was directly facing Bundle’s cupboard. The eleg-ant five o’clock took the place next to him. The third chair that side wasout of Bundle’s sight, but the American, No 4, moved into her line of visionfor a moment or two before he sat down.
On the near side of the table also, only two chairs were visible, and asshe watched a hand turned the second—really the middle chair—down.
And then with a swift movement, one of the newcomers brushed past thecupboard and took the chair opposite Mosgorovsky. Whoever sat therehad, of course, their back directly turned to Bundle—and it was at thatback that Bundle was staring with a good deal of interest, for it was theback of a singularly beautiful woman very much décolleté.
It was she who spoke first. Her voice was musical, foreign—with a deepseductive note in it. She was glancing towards the empty chair at the headof the table.
“So we are not to see No 7 tonight?” she said. “Tell me, my friends, shallwe ever see him?”
“That’s darned good,” said the American. “Darned good! As for seveno’clock—I’m beginning to believe there is no such person.”
“I should not advise you to think that, my friend,” said the Russianpleasantly.
There was a silence—rather an uncomfortable silence, Bundle felt.
She was still staring as though fascinated at the beautiful back in frontof her. There was a tiny black mole just below the right shoulder bladethat enhanced the whiteness of the skin. Bundle felt that at last the term“beautiful adventuress,” so often read, had a real meaning for her. Shewas quite certain that this woman had a beautiful face—a dark Slavonicface with passionate eyes.
She was recalled from her imagining by the voice of the Russian, whoseemed to act as master of ceremonies.
“Shall we get on with our business? First to our absent comrade! No 2!”
He made a curious gesture with his hand towards the turned downchair next to the woman, which everyone present imitated, turning to thechair as they did so.
“I wish No 2 were with us tonight,” he continued. “There are manythings to be done. Unsuspected difficulties have arisen.”
“Have you had his report?” It was the American who spoke.
“As yet—I have nothing from him.” There was a pause. “I cannot under-stand it.”
“You think it may have—gone astray?”
“That is—a possibility.”
“In other words,” said five o’clock softly, “there is—danger.”
He spoke the word delicately—and yet with relish.
The Russian nodded emphatically.
“Yes—there’s danger. Too much is getting known about us—about thisplace. I know of several people who suspect.” He added coldly: “They mustbe silenced.”
Bundle felt a little cold shiver pass down her spine. If she were to befound, would she be silenced? She was recalled suddenly to attention by aword.
“So nothing has come to light about Chimneys?”
Mosgorovsky shook his head.
“Nothing.”
Suddenly No 5 leant forward.
“I agree with Anna; where is our president—No 7? He who called us intobeing. Why do we never see him?”
“No 7,” said the Russian, “has his own ways of working.”
“So you always say.”
“I will say no more,” said Mosgorovsky. “I pity the man—or woman—who comes up against him.”
There was an awkward silence.
“We must get on with our business,” said Mosgorovsky quietly. “No 3,you have the plans of Wyvern Abbey?”
Bundle strained her ears. So far she had neither caught a glimpse of No3, nor had she heard his voice. She heard it now and recognized it as un-mistakable. Low, pleasant, indistinct—the voice of a well-bred English-man.
“I’ve got them here, sir.”
Some papers were shoved across the table. Everyone bent forward.
Presently Mosgorovsky raised his head again.
“And the list of guests?”
“Here.”
The Russian read them.
“Sir Stanley Digby. Mr. Terence O’Rourke. Sir Oswald and Lady Coote.
Mr. Bateman. Countess Anna Radzky. Mrs. Macatta. Mr. James Thesiger—”
He paused and then asked sharply:
“Who is Mr. James Thesiger?”
The American laughed.
“I guess you needn’t worry any about him. The usual complete youngass.”
The Russian continued reading.
“Herr Eberhard and Mr. Eversleigh. That completes the list.”
“Does it?” said Bundle silently. “What about that sweet girl, Lady EileenBrent?”
“Yes, there seems nothing to worry about there,” said Mosgorovsky. Helooked across the table. “I suppose there’s no doubt whatever about thevalue of Eberhard’s invention?”
Three o’clock made a laconic British reply.
“None whatever.”
“Commercially it should be worth millions,” said the Russian. “And in-ternationally—well, one knows only too well the greed of nations.”
Bundle had an idea that behind his mask he was smiling unpleasantly.
“Yes,” he went on. “A gold mine.”
“Well worth a few lives,” said No 5, cynically, and laughed.
“But you know what inventors are,” said the American. “Sometimesthese darned things won’t work.”
“A man like Sir Oswald Coote will have made no mistake,” said Mos-gorovsky.
“Speaking as an aviator myself,” said No 5, “the thing is perfectly feas-ible. It has been discussed for years—but it needed the genius of Eberhardto bring it to fruition.”
“Well,” said Mosgorovsky, “I don’t think we need discuss matters anyfurther. You have all seen the plans. I do not think our original schemecan be bettered. By the way, I hear something about a letter of GeraldWade’s that has been found — a letter that mentions this organization.
Who found it?”
“Lord Caterham’s daughter—Lady Eileen Brent.”
“Bauer should have been on to that,” said Mosgorovsky. “It was carelessof him. Who was the letter written to?”
“His sister, I believe,” said No 3.
“Unfortunate,” said Mosgorovsky. “But it cannot be helped. The inqueston Ronald Devereux is tomorrow. I suppose that has been arranged for?”
“Reports as to local lads having been practising with rifles have beenspread everywhere,” said the American.
“That should be all right then. I think there is nothing further to be said.
I think we must all congratulate our dear one o’clock and wish her luck inthe part she has to play.”
“Hurrah!” cried No 5. “To Anna!”
All hands flew out in the same gesture which Bundle had noticed before.
“To Anna!”
One o’clock acknowledged the salutation with a typically foreign ges-ture. Then she rose to her feet and the others followed suit. For the firsttime, Bundle caught a glimpse of No 3 as he came to put Anna’s cloakround her—a tall, heavily built man.
Then the party filed out through the secret door. Mosgorovsky secured itafter them. He waited a few moments and then Bundle heard him unboltthe other door and pass through after extinguishing the electric light.
It was not until two hours later that a white and anxious Alfred came torelease Bundle. She almost fell into his arms and he had to hold her up.
“Nothing,” said Bundle. “Just stiff, that’s all. Here, let me sit down.”
“Oh, Gord, my lady, it’s been awful.”
“Nonsense,” said Bundle. “It all went off splendidly. Don’t get the windup now it’s all over. It might have gone wrong, but thank goodness itdidn’t.”
“Thank goodness, as you say, my lady. I’ve been in a twitter all the even-ing. They’re a funny crowd, you know.”
“A damned funny crowd,” said Bundle, vigorously massaging her armsand legs. “As a matter of fact, they’re the sort of crowd I always imagineduntil tonight only existed in books. In this life, Alfred, one never stopslearning.”
第十四章 七面钟会议
第十四章 七面钟会议
接下来难熬的四个小时还是快点过去吧。这地方太小了，邦德尔只能缩着身子。她推测会议应该是在俱乐部最热闹的时候进行——如果有会议的话——那么应该在午夜到凌晨两点之间。
她正想着现在应该是清晨六点钟了，这时耳边传来了一个期盼已久的声音，房间的门锁打开了。
随后她听到了开灯的声音，插上插销的声音。耳边突如其来如波涛涌入的嘈杂声戛然而止。显然有人从隔壁的赌博室进来，那道门的隔音效果之好令她暗暗吃惊。
紧接着那个人进入了她的视线——视线很窄，却还够用。是一个身材高大的男人，宽宽的肩膀，蓄着黑色长胡须，看上去孔武有力。邦德尔想起前一天晚上在赌桌前看到过他。
看来他就是阿尔弗雷德所说的那位神秘的俄国绅士以及俱乐部老板——阴险的莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生了。邦德尔激动得心怦怦直跳。与她父亲截然不同的是，在这个极不舒服的环境下，她却颇感自豪。
俄国人在桌子旁站了一会儿，捋着胡须。然后，他从口袋里掏出表，看了看时间，似乎很满意地点了点头，又把手伸进口袋里，掏出了一样东西，但是邦德尔没有看清。接着，他便走出了她的视线。
当邦德尔再次看到他时，不禁大吃一惊。
他的脸上蒙着一副面具，但又不是普通的面具。这副面具不是按照脸形做的，只不过像窗帘一样挂在脸上，上面开了两个小孔，以便能看到东西。面具的形状是圆的，画的是一个钟面，指针指示的时间是六点。
“七面钟！”邦德尔心想。
这时，传来了一阵响声，是七下低沉的敲门声。
莫斯葛洛夫斯基大步走了过去，邦德尔知道他一定是走到了另一扇壁橱门前。她听到咔嗒一声脆响，接着是外国人互致问候的声音。
很快她就看到了进来的两个人。
他们也戴着钟形面具，但指针却指向不同的位置，分别是四点和五点。两个人都穿着晚礼服，但并不相同。其中一个是举止优雅、身材高挑的年轻人，身上的晚礼服剪裁很得体。他走起路来姿态优雅，不像是英国人的风格。另一个人可以用瘦长结实来形容，穿的衣服也只是刚刚合身而已。还没等他开口，邦德尔就猜出了他的国籍。
“我想我们是最先到的。”悦耳的声音里略带些美国人的拖腔和爱尔兰人的转调。
优雅的年轻人用很准确但却有些生硬的英语说道：
“今天晚上我费了不少工夫才脱了身，事情不总是顺风顺水。我不像四点钟那样可以自己做主。”
邦德尔试图猜出他的国籍。在他还没开口说话之前，她原以为他是个法国人，但他说话的腔调不像是法国人。她想，他可能是奥地利人，或者匈牙利人，甚至是俄国人。
那个美国人走到桌子的另一侧，邦德尔听到了椅子被拉出来的声音。
“一点钟获得了巨大的成功，”他说道，“恭喜你冒了这个险。”
五点钟耸了耸肩。
“如果不冒险……”他把嘴边的话咽了下去。
又传来七下敲门声，莫斯葛洛夫斯基走向暗门。
有一阵子邦德尔什么也没瞧见，这些人都走到了她的视线之外，但很快她就听见长胡子的俄国人扯着嗓门说道：
“开始开会吧？”
他绕着桌子走过去，坐在靠近桌首的座位上，恰好面对邦德尔藏身的壁橱。举止优雅的五点钟则紧挨着他坐下。那一侧的第三把椅子在邦德尔的视线之外，但那个四点钟美国人在落座之前，在她的视线里晃了几下。
在桌子靠近壁橱的一侧，邦德尔只能看见两把椅子。就在邦德尔细细观察的时候，她看到一只手把第二把椅子——也就是中间的那把——放倒了。随后一个新进来的人敏捷地走过邦德尔藏身的壁橱，径直坐在莫斯葛洛夫斯基的对面。当然，不管是谁坐在这个位置，他总是背对着邦德尔的。邦德尔饶有兴致地盯着那个人的背影，从背影来看，这是一个身穿露肩衣服的绝色美女。
首先说话的就是这位美女。她的声音动听悦耳，外国口音，性感十足。她瞥了一眼桌首的空椅子。
“这么说今天晚上我们见不着七号了？”她说道，“告诉我，朋友们，我们会见到他吗？”
“好极了，”那个美国人说道，“说得好极了！至于七点钟……我开始相信压根儿就没这个人。”
“最好别这么想，朋友。”俄国人和气地说道。
大家鸦雀无声，这是一种令人不舒服的沉默，邦德尔也觉察到了。
她凝视着眼前这个美女的背影，几乎有些痴了。美女的右肩胛骨下方生有一颗小黑痣，使得她的肌肤更显白皙。邦德尔终于明白了“美女冒险家”这个常常读到的词所具有的含义。她毫不怀疑这个女人有着一张漂亮面孔——一张斯拉夫人的脸蛋，明眸善睐。
俄国人的声音打断了她的联想，他似乎是这次会议的主持人。
“开始谈正事吧。首先，向缺席的两点钟同志致意！”
他手指着美女身旁那把放倒了的椅子，做了一个奇怪的手势，其他人也依葫芦画瓢，冲着那把椅子做了同样的手势。
“真希望两点钟今晚跟我们在一起，”他接着说道，“还有很多事要做，而且出现了一些事先没有想到的困难。”
“你接到他的报告了吗？”美国人说道。
“还没有……没有收到任何消息。”俄国人顿了顿，“真搞不懂。”
“你是不是觉得有可能……出了岔子？”
“有这种可能。”
“也就是说，”五点钟柔声说道，“有了……危险。”
这句话很微妙，耐人寻味。
俄国人用力点了点头。
“是的……有了危险。知道我们……还有这个地方的人越来越多了。我就知道已经引起了几个人的怀疑。”他冷冷地说道，“必须让他们闭嘴。”
邦德尔觉得脊背一阵发凉。要是他们发现了她，会不会把她干掉？突然，一个词吸引了她的注意。
“这么说烟囱别墅的事还没被人发现？”
莫斯葛洛夫斯基摇了摇头。
“没有。”
突然，五点钟身子前倾。
“我同意安娜的想法，我们的首领……七点钟在哪儿？是他把我们召集来的，但为什么我们也从没见过他——哪怕是他的影子？”
“七点钟有自己的一套做事方法。”俄国人说道。
“你老是这么说。”
“还不仅仅是这些，”莫斯葛洛夫斯基冷冷地说道，“我可怜那些跟他过不去的人……或者女人。”
一阵尴尬的沉默。
“我们必须谈谈正事了，”莫斯葛洛夫斯基平静地说道，“三点钟，双足飞龙教堂的事你计划好了吗？”
邦德尔马上竖起了耳朵。到目前为止，她既没有看到过三点钟的身影，也没听到过他的声音。此刻她听到了，而且真真切切。好听却模糊不清的低语声——一听就知道是一个很有教养的英国人。
“我把材料带来了，先生。”
他把几张纸铺在桌子上。每个人都把身子凑过去。很快，莫斯葛洛夫斯基又抬起了头。
“客人名单呢？”
“在这儿。”
俄国人念道：“斯坦利•迪格比爵士、特伦斯•奥罗克先生、奥斯瓦德爵士和库特夫人、贝特曼先生、安娜•拉兹基伯爵夫人、麦卡塔夫人、吉米•塞西杰先生……”
他顿了顿，突然问道：“吉米•塞西杰是谁？”
美国人笑道：
“你用不着担心，只是一个普普通通的年轻人，十足的蠢驴。”
俄国人接着念道：
“赫尔•埃伯哈德和埃弗斯利先生。就这些人了。”
“就这些人了？”邦德尔心想，“那么可爱女孩，艾琳•布伦特小姐呢？”
“嗯，好像没什么可担心的。”莫斯葛洛夫斯基说。他看了看桌对面，接着说道：“对于赫尔•埃伯哈德的发明，我想它的价值没什么好怀疑的吧？”
三点钟用英国人的方式言简意赅地答道：“毫无疑问。”
“从商业上来看，它值几百万英镑，”俄国人说道，“从国际影响来看……呃，大家都很清楚国家的贪婪。”
邦德尔觉得他在面具后面的微笑一定让人讨厌。
“嗯，”他接着说道，“相当于一个金矿。”
“也值几条人命。”五点钟笑着挖苦道。
“不过，你们都知道发明家是些什么人，”美国人说道，“有时那些该死的发明根本就不管用。”
“像奥斯瓦德•库特爵士那样的人是不会弄错的。”莫斯葛洛夫斯基说。
“要我这个飞行员来说，”五点钟说道，“这个发明完全是可行的，都已经讨论好多年了，只是需要赫尔•埃伯哈德这样的天才来实现。”
“好了，”莫斯葛洛夫斯基说道，“我想这个问题没必要再讨论了。你们都看过了计划。
我觉得最初的方案已经相当完美了，没必要再完善。顺便问一句，我听说有人发现了格里•韦德的一封信，信上提到了我们这个组织。信是谁发现的？”
“凯特勒姆勋爵的女儿……艾琳•布伦特小姐。”
“包尔早该把那封信处理掉，”莫斯葛洛夫斯基说道，“他太不小心了。信是写给谁的？”
“我想是他妹妹。”三点钟答道。
“真糟糕，”莫斯葛洛夫斯基说道，“但也没办法了。罗尼•德弗卢的验尸是在明天。我想你已经安排好了吧？”
“已经到处散布是当地小伙子玩枪误伤的消息了。”美国人答道。
“很好。我想没有什么要说的了。我们一起向亲爱的一点钟表示祝贺，并预祝她在将要扮演的角色中交好运吧。”
“安娜万岁！”五号喊道。
每个人都挥手做了一个手势，跟先前邦德尔见过的一样。
“安娜万岁！”
一点钟以典型的外国人的姿态接受了同伴们的致敬，然后她站起身来，其他人也跟着站起来。三点钟走过来给安娜披上了披风，邦德尔这才第一次瞥了他一眼——一个身材魁梧的高个子男人。
接着，这伙人从暗门鱼贯而出。等其他人离开，莫斯葛洛夫斯基才将暗门锁好。他又等了一会儿，然后邦德尔听见他把另一道门的插销打开，关了电灯走了出去。
又过了两个小时，一脸苍白、心急如焚的阿尔弗雷德才过来把邦德尔放了出来。她差点儿倒在了他的怀里，阿尔弗雷德赶忙扶住了她。
“没什么，”邦德尔说道，“只是有些僵。来，让我坐坐。”
“噢，天哪！太可怕了，小姐。”
“胡说，”邦德尔说道，“一切都很顺利。别慌，都过去了。差点出了乱子，不过谢天谢地总算没有。”
“谢天谢地，小姐。整个晚上我都紧张得要命。这些人很鬼的。”
“鬼得要命，”邦德尔一边说着，一边揉着胳膊和大腿，“老实说，直到今天晚上，我一直以为像他们这样的人只有书上才有。人生当中，阿尔弗雷德，无时无刻都不能停止学习啊。”
Fifteen HE INQUEST
Fifteen HE INQUEST

Bundle reached home about six a.m. She was up and dressed by half pastnine, and rang up Jimmy Thesiger on the telephone.
The promptitude of his reply somewhat surprised her, till he explainedthat he was going down to attend the inquest.
“So am I,” said Bundle. “And I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
“Well, suppose you let me drive you down and we can talk on the way.
How about that?”
“All right. But allow a bit extra because you’ll have to take me to Chim-neys. The Chief Constable’s picking me up there.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s a kind man,” said Bundle.
“So am I,” said Jimmy. “Very kind.”
“Oh! you—you’re an ass,” said Bundle. “I heard somebody say so lastnight.”
“Who?”
“To be strictly accurate—a Russian Jew. No, it wasn’t. It was—”
But an indignant protest drowned her words.
“I may be an ass,” said Jimmy. “I daresay I am—but I won’t have RussianJews saying so. What were you doing last night, Bundle?”
“That’s what I’m going to talk about,” said Bundle. “Good-bye for the mo-ment.”
She rang off in a tantalizing manner which left Jimmy pleasantlypuzzled. He had the highest respect for Bundle’s capabilities, though therewas not the slightest trace of sentiment in his feeling towards her.
“She’s been up to something,” he opined, as he took a last hasty drink ofcoffee. “Depend upon it, she’s been up to something.”
Twenty minutes later, his little two- seater drew up before the BrookStreet house and Bundle, who had been waiting, came tripping down thesteps. Jimmy was not ordinarily an observant young man, but he noticedthat there were black rings round Bundle’s eyes and that she had all theappearance of having had a late night the night before.
“Now then,” he said, as the car began to nose her way through the sub-urbs, “what dark deeds have you been up to?”
“I’ll tell you,” said Bundle. “But don’t interrupt until I’ve finished.”
It was a somewhat long story, and Jimmy had all he could do to keepsufficient attention on the car to prevent an accident. When Bundle hadfinished he sighed—then looked at her searchingly.
“Bundle?”
“Yes?”
“Look here, you’re not pulling my leg?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry,” apologized Jimmy, “but it seems to me as though I’d heard itall before—in a dream, you know.”
“I know,” said Bundle sympathetically.
“It’s impossible,” said Jimmy, following out his own train of thought.
“The beautiful foreign adventuress, the international gang, the mysteriousNo 7, whose identity nobody knows—I’ve read it all a hundred times inbooks.”
“Of course you have. So have I. But it’s no reason why it shouldn’t reallyhappen.”
“I suppose not,” admitted Jimmy.
“After all — I suppose fiction is founded on the truth. I mean unlessthings did happen, people couldn’t think of them.”
“There is something in what you say,” agreed Jimmy. “But all the same Ican’t help pinching myself to see if I’m awake.”
“That’s how I felt.”
Jimmy gave a deep sigh.
“Well, I suppose we are awake. Let me see, a Russian, an American, anEnglishman—a possible Austrian or Hungarian—and the lady who may beany nationality—for choice Russian or Polish—that’s a pretty representat-ive gathering.”
“And a German,” said Bundle. “You’ve forgotten the German.”
“Oh!” said Jimmy slowly. “You think—?”
“The absent No 2. No 2 is Bauer—our footman. That seems to me quiteclear from what they said about expecting a report which hadn’t come in—though what there can be to report about Chimneys, I can’t think.”
“It must be something to do with Gerry Wade’s death,” said Jimmy.
“There’s something there we haven’t fathomed yet. You say they actuallymentioned Bauer by name?”
Bundle nodded.
“They blamed him for not having found that letter.”
“Well, I don’t see what you could have clearer than that. There’s no go-ing against it. You’ll have to forgive my first incredulity, Bundle—but youknow, it was rather a tall story. You say they knew about my going downto Wyvern Abbey next week?”
“Yes, that’s when the American—it was him, not the Russian—said theyneedn’t worry—you were only the usual kind of ass.”
“Ah!” said Jimmy. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator viciouslyand the car shot forward. “I’m very glad you told me that. It gives me whatyou might call a personal interest in the case.”
He was silent for a minute or two and then he said:
“Did you say that German inventor’s name was Eberhard?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Wait a minute. Something’s coming back to me. Eberhard, Eberhard—yes, I’m sure that was the name.”
“Tell me.”
“Eberhard was a Johnny who’d got some patent process he applied tosell. I can’t put the thing properly because I haven’t got the scientificknowledge—but I know the result was that it became so toughened that awire was as strong as a steel bar had previously been. Eberhard had to dowith aeroplanes and his idea was that the weight would be so enormouslyreduced that flying would be practically revolutionized—the cost of it, Imean. I believe he offered his invention to the German Government, andthey turned it down, pointed out some undeniable flaw in it—but they didit rather nastily. He set to work and circumvented the difficulty, whateverit was, but he’d been offended by their attitude and swore they shouldn’thave his ewe lamb. I always thought the whole thing was probablybunkum, but now—it looks differently.”
“That’s it,” said Bundle eagerly. “You must be right, Jimmy. Eberhardmust have offered his invention to our Government. They’ve been taking,or are going to take, Sir Oswald Coote’s expert opinion on it. There’s goingto be an unofficial conference at the Abbey. Sir Oswald, George, the AirMinister and Eberhard. Eberhard will have the plans or the process orwhatever you call it—”
“Formula,” suggested Jimmy. “I think ‘formula’ is a good word myself.”
“He’ll have the formula with him, and the Seven Dials are out to stealthe formula. I remember the Russian saying it was worth millions.”
“I suppose it would be,” said Jimmy.
“And well worth a few lives—that’s what the other man said.”
“Well, it seems to have been,” said Jimmy, his face clouding over. “Lookat this damned inquest today. Bundle, are you sure Ronny said nothingelse?”
“No,” said Bundle. “Just that. Seven Dials. Tell Jimmy Thesiger. That’s allhe could get out, poor lad.”
“I wish we knew what he knew,” said Jimmy. “But we’ve found out onething. I take it that the footman, Bauer, must almost certainly have beenresponsible for Gerry’s death. You know, Bundle—”
“Yes?”
“Well, I’m a bit worried sometimes. Who’s going to be the next one! Itreally isn’t the sort of business for a girl to be mixed up in.”
Bundle smiled in spite of herself. It occurred to her that it had takenJimmy a long time to put her in the same category as Loraine Wade.
“It’s far more likely to be you than me,” she remarked cheerfully.
“Hear, hear,” said Jimmy. “But what about a few casualties on the otherside for a change? I’m feeling rather bloodthirsty this morning. Tell me,Bundle, would you recognize any of these people if you saw them?”
Bundle hesitated.
“I think I should recognize No 5,” she said at last. “He’s got a queer wayof speaking — a kind of venomous, lisping way — that I think I’d knowagain.”
“What about the Englishman?”
Bundle shook her head.
“I saw him least—only a glimpse—and he’s got a very ordinary voice.
Except that he’s a big man, there’s nothing much to go by.”
“There’s the woman, of course,” continued Jimmy. “She ought to beeasier. But then, you’re not likely to run across her. She’s probably puttingin the dirty work, being taken out to dinner by amorous Cabinet Ministersand getting State secrets out of them when they’ve had a couple. At least,that’s how it’s done in books. As a matter of fact, the only Cabinet MinisterI know drinks hot water with a dash of lemon in it.”
“Take George Lomax, for instance, can you imagine him being amorouswith beautiful foreign women?” said Bundle with a laugh.
Jimmy agreed with her criticism.
“And now about the man of mystery—No 7,” went on Jimmy. “You’ve noidea who he could be?”
“None whatever.”
“Again—by book standards, that is—he ought to be someone we allknow. What about George Lomax himself?”
Bundle reluctantly shook her head.
“In a book it would be perfect,” she agreed. “But knowing Codders—”
And she gave herself up to sudden uncontrollable mirth. “Codders, thegreat criminal organizer,” she gasped. “Wouldn’t it be marvellous?”
Jimmy agreed that it would. Their discussion had taken some time andhis driving had slowed down involuntarily once or twice. They arrived atChimneys, to find Colonel Melrose already there waiting. Jimmy was intro-duced to him and they all three proceeded to the inquest together.
As Colonel Melrose had predicted, the whole affair was very simple.
Bundle gave her evidence. The doctor gave his. Evidence was given of riflepractice in the neighbourhood. A verdict of death by misadventure wasbrought in.
After the proceedings were over, Colonel Melrose volunteered to driveBundle back to Chimneys, and Jimmy Thesiger returned to London.
For all his lighthearted manner, Bundle’s story had impressed him pro-foundly. He set his lips closely together.
“Ronny, old boy,” he murmured, “I’m going to be up against it. Andyou’re not here to join in the game.”
Another thought flashed into his mind. Loraine! Was she in danger?
After a minute or two’s hesitation, he went over to the telephone andrang her up.
“It’s me—Jimmy. I thought you’d like to know the result of the inquest.
Death by misadventure.”
“Oh, but—”
“Yes, but I think there’s something behind that. The coroner had had ahint. Someone’s at work to hush it up. I say, Loraine—”
“Yes?”
“Look here. There’s—there’s some funny business going about. You’ll bevery careful, won’t you? For my sake.”
He heard the quick note of alarm that sprang into her voice.
“Jimmy—but then it’s dangerous—for you.”
He laughed.
“Oh, that’s all right. I’m the cat that had nine lives. Bye-bye, old thing.”
He rang off and remained a minute or two lost in thought. Then hesummoned Stevens.
“Do you think you could go out and buy me a pistol, Stevens?”
“A pistol, sir?”
True to his training, Stevens betrayed no hint of surprise.
“What kind of a pistol would you be requiring?”
“The kind where you put your finger on the trigger and the thing goeson shooting until you take it off again.”
“An automatic, sir.”
“That’s it,” said Jimmy. “An automatic. And I should like it to be a bluen-osed one—if you and the shopman know what that is. In American stories,the hero always takes his bluenosed automatic from his hip pocket.”
Stevens permitted himself a faint, discreet smile.
“Most American gentlemen that I have known, sir, carry something verydifferent in their hip pockets,” he observed.
Jimmy Thesiger laughed.
第十五章 验尸
第十五章 验尸
邦德尔大概是早上六点回的家，但九点半她就起床穿好衣服，打电话给吉米•塞西杰了。
电话很快就通了，速度之快令她颇为惊讶，后来他解释说自己正准备去参加验尸，她这才打消了狐疑。
“我也要去，”邦德尔说道，“而且我有很多话要告诉你。”
“那好，我开车过来接你，我们路上聊，如何？”
“好。不过你得先送我去烟囱别墅。郡警察局长要到那儿接我。”“为什么？”
“他是个好心人。”邦德尔答道。
“我也是，”吉米说道，“大好人一个。”
“噢！你……你是个蠢驴，”邦德尔说道，“昨晚我听人说的。”“谁？”
“准确地说……是一个俄国犹太人。不，不对。是……”
电话另一头的抗议声让她说不出话来。
“我可能是头蠢驴，”吉米愤愤不平地说道，“但我敢说我是……可我不想听到俄国犹太人这么说我。昨天晚上你在干什么，邦德尔？”
“我正要跟你说呢，”邦德尔答道，“回头再说吧。”
她卖了个关子，挂断电话，把吉米弄得心痒痒的。虽然在感情上并不中意，但他对邦德尔的才智却佩服得五体投地。
“肯定有名堂，”他心想，一边匆匆地喝完最后一口咖啡，“绝对错不了，她准是捣了什么鬼。”
二十分钟之后，他的那辆小巧玲珑的双座跑车停在了布鲁克街的一座屋子门前，邦德尔已经在那里等着了，她下台阶朝吉米走去。虽然吉米平时不善于观察，但他还是注意到了邦德尔的黑眼圈，还有脸上那副熬夜后的倦容。
“嗨，”当吉米小心翼翼地驾车驶过郊区时，他问道，“你在捣什么鬼啊？”
“我会跟你说，”邦德尔说道，“不过在我说完之前你可别插嘴。”
真是说来话长，吉米一边仔细听，一边小心地开车。等邦德尔好不容易说完了，他不禁叹了一口气——然后用探询的目光看着她。
“邦德尔？”
“怎么啦？”
“听我说，你该不会是在开玩笑吧？”
“你这话什么意思？”
“对不起，”吉米赶忙道歉，“可我觉得好像以前在哪儿听说过……大概是在梦里吧。”
“我明白。”邦德尔同情地说道。
“这种事怎么可能，”吉米顺着自己的思路接着说道，“外国美女冒险家，国际团伙，神秘的七点钟，还没有人知道他是谁……这种故事我读过起码一百次了。”
“你当然读过，我也读过，但想不到竟然真的发生了。”
“真没想到。”吉米承认道。
“毕竟……虚构的东西都是以现实为基础的吧。我是说，除非真的发生过什么事，否则人们不可能凭空杜撰。”
“你说的有道理，”吉米表示赞同，“不过我还是忍不住掐了一下自己，看自己是不是在做梦。”
“我也有同感。”
吉米重重地叹了口气，说道：
“唉，我想我们都没有做梦。让我想想，一个俄国人，一个美国人，一个英国人……一个可能是奥地利人或匈牙利人……还有那个不知是哪国人的美女……可能是俄国人或波兰人……真是很有代表性的一伙人。”
“还有一个德国人，”邦德尔说道，“你忘了那个德国人。”
“噢！”吉米慢条斯理地说道，“你是说……”
“没到场的二点钟，他肯定就是包尔，我们家的听差。我听他们说要搞到一份关于烟囱别墅的报告，但还没有得手，不过究竟是一份什么样的报告，我倒想不出来。”
“肯定跟格里•韦德的死有关，”吉米说道，“有些事情我们还没搞清楚。你说他们提到了包尔的名字？”
邦德尔点了点头。
“他们怪他没发现那封信。”
“哦，看来你把情况已经摸得很清楚了，那就没什么好说的了。抱歉刚开始我还不相信，邦德尔……可是听起来的确匪夷所思。他们也知道我下个星期要去双足飞龙教堂？”
“是的，当时那个美国人……就是他，不是那个俄国人……说用不着担心你……说你只不过是一头普普通通的蠢驴。”
“可恶！”吉米说道。他使劲地踩了下油门，跑车猛地向前奔去。“很高兴你告诉我。这样我就对这个案子有了所谓的个人兴趣了。”
他沉默了一两分钟，接着说道：
“你说那个德国发明家名叫赫尔•埃伯哈德？”
“对，怎么啦？”
“等等。我想起来了。赫尔•埃伯哈德，赫尔•埃伯哈德……对，肯定就是这个名字。”
“说说看。”
“赫尔•埃伯哈德以前曾经申请过钢铁方面的专利。具体是什么我也说不清，我不是搞这行的……不过我知道这项技术可以让物体更坚韧，一根钢丝经过处理，强度堪比一根普通的铁条。赫尔•埃伯哈德想把这个技术应用到飞机上，这样飞机的重量将大大降低，会引发航空革命……我是说成本。我相信他起先把自己的发明给了德国政府，但政府不要，还指出其中存在一些无可辩驳的缺陷……这种做法太恶劣了。后来他继续研究，攻克了一切难关，但政府的态度严重伤害了他，他发誓政府休想得到他最珍贵的发明。以前我一直认为整件事就是瞎胡闹，不过现在……好像不是那么回事了。”
“没错，”邦德尔急切地说道，“让你说中了，吉米。埃伯哈德肯定把他的发明给了我们的政府。他们已经接受，或者打算接受奥斯瓦德•库特爵士的专家意见。在双足飞龙教堂举办的晚会就是一次非官方会议，奥斯瓦德爵士、乔治、航空部长，还有埃伯哈德都会出场。赫尔•埃伯哈德还会把他的计划或方案……随便你怎么叫……带过去。”
“配方，”吉米插了一句，“我觉得叫配方更合适。”
“他会把配方带上，而七面钟却想去偷配方。那个俄国人说它值好几百万英镑呢。”
“我想差不多吧。”吉米说。
“还值好几条人命……这是另一个人说的。”
“唉，已经赔了几条，”吉米的脸上布满了阴云，“今天这该死的验尸就是其中之一。邦德尔，你肯定罗尼没说别的吗？”
“没有，”邦德尔说道，“就说了几个字：‘七面钟，告诉吉米•塞西杰。’他只能说出这些，真可怜。”
“要是我们知道他所掌握的情况就好了，”吉米说道，“不过我们已经查明了一件事。那个听差，包尔，对格里的死一定负有责任。邦德尔……”
“什么？”
“唉，有时候我真有点担心。下一个会是谁呢？这种事真不该让女孩子卷进来。”
邦德尔不禁微微一笑——吉米好不容易才把她和洛兰•韦德归为一类。
“很有可能是你而不是我。”她乐呵呵地说道。
“瞧你说的，”吉米说道，“不过，把对方干掉几个，扭转一下局势怎么样？今天早上我真的想杀人。告诉我，邦德尔，要是再见到那伙人，你认得出来吗？”
邦德尔迟疑了一下。
“五点钟应该认得出来，”她终于说道，“他说话怪怪的……咬牙切齿，很邪恶……只要再听到，我应该能认出来。”
“那个英国人呢？”
邦德尔摇了摇头。
“我只是瞥了一眼，而且声音也很普通。除了知道他是个大块头之外，没有什么明显的特征。”
“当然，还有那个女的，”吉米接着说道，“她应该比较容易认出来。不过你不太可能再碰到她。她说不定正在干一些卑劣的勾当，陪一些好色的内阁大臣一起吃晚饭，然后再套取国家机密。至少书上是这么写的。其实我只认识一个内阁大臣，他只喝加柠檬汁的热开水。”
“就拿乔治•洛马克斯来说吧，你觉得他是一个喜欢纠缠外国美女的好色之徒吗？”邦德尔笑着说道。
吉米同意她的说法。
“现在说说那个神秘人物七点钟吧，”吉米接着说道，“你觉得他会是谁？”
“我一点头绪也没有。”
“按照书上说的，他应该是我们都认识的某个人。会不会就是乔治•洛马克斯？”
邦德尔摇了摇头。
“如果写成小说倒也无可挑剔，”她说道，“不过老鳕鱼……”她一下子笑得喘不过气来。“老鳕鱼，犯罪集团的大头目，”她喘了口气，“岂不是让人惊叹？”
吉米表示有同感。他们之间的讨论花了不少时间，有一两次跑车不知不觉地慢了下来。等到达烟囱别墅时，他们发现梅尔罗斯上校已经久候多时了。邦德尔向上校介绍了吉米，然后他们三人便一起去参加验尸。
正如梅尔罗斯上校预料的，整个过程相当简单。邦德尔和医生分别提交了证词，还有人作证事发地有人在玩枪，最后得出了意外致死的结论。
验尸结束之后，梅尔罗斯上校自告奋勇开车送邦德尔返回烟囱别墅，吉米•塞西杰则返回伦敦。
尽管吉米表面上一副轻松的样子，但邦德尔的叙述却牢牢地印在了他的心里。他紧抿着双唇。
“罗尼，老伙计，”他喃喃自语道，“我会挺身而出的，可你却不在我身旁。”
他脑子里又闪过一个念头。洛兰！她会不会有危险？
犹豫了一两分钟之后，他走到电话机旁拨通了电话。
“是我……吉米。我想告诉你验尸的结果，是意外致死。”
“噢，可是……”
“嗯，不过我觉得另有文章。验尸官有一点点暗示。有人想掩盖什么。喂，洛兰……”
“什么事？”
“听着，有些事很蹊跷，你要特别当心，知道吗？看在我的分儿上。”
他听出她的声音里夹杂着一丝慌乱。
“吉米……可是，你的处境也很危险。”
他笑了笑。
“噢，我不会有事的。我是九命猫。再见。”
他挂断电话，沉思了一两分钟。然后把史蒂文斯叫来。“你能不能出去帮我买一把手枪，史蒂文斯？”
“手枪，先生？”
训练有素的史蒂文斯并没有表示惊讶。
“您需要什么样的手枪？”
“就是一扣扳机就一直发射的那种。”
“自动手枪，先生。”
“对，”吉米说道，“自动手枪，而且我想要枪管烤蓝的那种……要是你和枪店老板知道的话。在美国小说里，主人公总是从屁股口袋里掏出一把枪管烤蓝的自动手枪。”
史蒂文斯很难得地淡淡一笑。
“我认识的大多数有身份的美国人，他们的屁股口袋里装的可不是这种东西，先生。”他说道。
吉米•塞西杰一阵大笑。
Sixteen HE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY
Sixteen HE HOUSE PARTY AT THE ABBEY

Bundle drove over to Wyvern Abbey just in time for tea on Friday after-noon. George Lomax came forward to welcome her with considerableempressement.
“My dear Eileen,” he said, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see youhere. You must forgive my not having invited you when I asked yourfather, but to tell the truth I never dreamed that a party of this kind wouldappeal to you. I was both—er—surprised and—er—delighted when LadyCaterham told me of your—er—interest in—er—politics.”
“I wanted to come so much,” said Bundle in a simple, ingenuous man-ner.
“Mrs. Macatta will not arrive till the later train,” explained George. “Shewas speaking at a meeting in Manchester last night. Do you knowThesiger? Quite a young fellow, but a remarkable grasp of foreign politics.
One would hardly suspect it from his appearance.”
“I know Mr. Thesiger,” said Bundle, and she shook hands solemnly withJimmy, who she observed had parted his hair in the middle in the endeav-our to add earnestness to his expression.
“Look here,” said Jimmy in a low hurried voice, as George temporarilywithdrew. “You mustn’t be angry, but I’ve told Bill about our little stunt.”
“Bill?” said Bundle, annoyed.
“Well, after all,” said Jimmy, “Bill is one of the lads, you know. Ronnywas a pal of his and so was Gerry.”
“Oh! I know,” said Bundle.
“But you think it’s a pity? Sorry.”
“Bill’s all right, of course. It isn’t that,” said Bundle. “But he’s—well, Bill’sa born blunderer.”
“Not mentally very agile?” suggested Jimmy. “But you forget one thing—Bill’s got a very hefty fist. And I’ve an idea that a hefty fist is going to comein handy.”
“Well, perhaps you’re right. How did he take it?” “Well, he clutched hishead a good bit, but—I mean the facts took some driving home. But by re-peating the thing patiently in words of one syllable I at last got it into histhick head. And, naturally, he’s with us to the death, as you might say.”
George reappeared suddenly.
“I must make some introductions, Eileen. This is Sir Stanley Digby —Lady Eileen Brent. Mr. O’Rourke.” The Air Minister was a little round manwith a cheerful smile. Mr. O’Rourke, a tall young man with laughing blueeyes and a typical Irish face, greeted Bundle with enthusiasm.
“And I thinking it was going to be a dull political party entirely,” he mur-mured in an adroit whisper.
“Hush,” said Bundle. “I’m political—very political.”
“Sir Oswald and Lady Coote you know,” continued George.
“We’ve never actually met,” said Bundle, smiling.
She was mentally applauding her father’s descriptive powers.
Sir Oswald took her hand in an iron grip and she winced slightly.
Lady Coote, after a somewhat mournful greeting, had turned to JimmyThesiger, and appeared to be registering something closely akin to pleas-ure. Despite his reprehensible habit of being late for breakfast, Lady Cootehad a fondness for this amiable, pink-faced young man. His air of irre-pressible good nature fascinated her. She had a motherly wish to cure himof his bad habits and form him into one of the world’s workers. Whether,once formed, he would be as attractive was a question she had neverasked herself. She began now to tell him of a very painful motor accidentwhich had happened to one of her friends.
“Mr. Bateman,” said George briefly, as one who would pass on to betterthings.
A serious, palefaced young man bowed.
“And now,” continued George, “I must introduce you to CountessRadzky.”
Countess Radzky had been conversing with Mr. Bateman. Leaning veryfar back on a sofa, with her legs crossed in a daring manner, she wassmoking a cigarette in an incredibly long turquoise-studded holder.
Bundle thought she was one of the most beautiful women she had everseen. Her eyes were very large and blue, her hair was coal black, she hada matte skin, the slightly flattened nose of the Slav, and a sinuous, slenderbody. Her lips were reddened to a degree with which Bundle was sureWyvern Abbey was totally unacquainted.
She said eagerly: “This is Mrs. Macatta—yes?”
On George’s replying in the negative and introducing Bundle, the count-ess gave her a careless nod, and at once resumed her conversation withthe serious Mr. Bateman.
Bundle heard Jimmy’s voice in her ear:
“Pongo is absolutely fascinated by the lovely Slav,” he said. “Pathetic,isn’t it? Come and have some tea.”
They drifted once more into the neighbourhood of Sir Oswald Coote.
“That’s a fine place of yours, Chimneys,” remarked the great man.
“I’m glad you liked it,” said Bundle meekly.
“Wants new plumbing,” said Sir Oswald. “Bring it up to date, you know.”
He ruminated for a minute or two.
“I’m taking the Duke of Alton’s place. Three years. Just while I’m lookinground for a place of my own. Your father couldn’t sell if he wanted to, Isuppose?”
Bundle felt her breath taken away. She had a nightmare vision of Eng-land with innumerable Cootes in innumerable counterparts of Chimneys—all, be it understood, with an entirely new system of plumbing installed.
She felt a sudden violent resentment which, she told herself, was ab-surd. After all, contrasting Lord Caterham with Sir Oswald Coote, therewas no doubt as to who would go to the wall. Sir Oswald had one of thosepowerful personalities which make all those with whom they come in con-tact appear faded. He was, as Lord Caterham had said, a human steam-roller. And yet, undoubtedly, in many ways, Sir Oswald was a stupid man.
Apart from his special line of knowledge and his terrific driving force, hewas probably intensely ignorant. A hundred delicate appreciations of lifewhich Lord Caterham could and did enjoy were a sealed book to Sir Os-wald.
Whilst indulging in these reflections Bundle continued to chat pleas-antly. Herr Eberhard, she heard, had arrived, but was lying down with anervous headache. This was told her by Mr. O’Rourke, who managed tofind a place by her side and keep it.
Altogether, Bundle went up to dress in a pleasant mood of expectation,with a slight nervous dread hovering in the background whenever shethought of the imminent arrival of Mrs. Macatta. Bundle felt that dalliancewith Mrs. Macatta was going to prove no primrose path.
Her first shock was when she came down, demurely attired in a blacklace frock, and passed along the hall. A footman was standing there—atleast a man dressed as a footman. But that square, burly figure lent itselfbadly to the deception. Bundle stopped and stared.
“Superintendent Battle,” she breathed.
“That’s right, Lady Eileen.”
“Oh!” said Bundle uncertainly. “Are you here to—to—?”
“Keep an eye on things.”
“I see.”
“That warning letter, you know,” said the Superintendent, “fairly put thewind up Mr. Lomax. Nothing would do for him but that I should comedown myself.”
“But don’t you think—” began Bundle, and stopped. She hardly liked tosuggest to the Superintendent that his disguise was not a particularly effi-cient one. He seemed to have “police officer” written all over him, andBundle could hardly imagine the most unsuspecting criminal failing to beput on his guard.
“You think,” said the Superintendent stolidly, “that I might be recog-nized?”
He gave the final word a distinct capital letter.
“I did think so—yes—” admitted Bundle.
Something that might conceivably have been intended for a smilecrossed the woodenness of Superintendent Battle’s features.
“Put them on their guard, eh? Well, Lady Eileen, why not?”
“Why not?” echoed Bundle—rather stupidly, she felt.
Superintendent Battle was nodding his head slowly.
“We don’t want any unpleasantness, do we?” he said. “Don’t want to betoo clever—just show any light-fingered gentry that may be about—well,just show them that there’s somebody on the spot, so to speak.”
Bundle gazed at him in some admiration. She could imagine that thesudden appearance of so renowned a personage as Superintendent Battlemight have a depressing effect on any scheme and the hatchers of it.
“It’s a great mistake to be too clever,” Superintendent Battle was repeat-ing. “The great thing is not to have any unpleasantness this weekend.”
Bundle passed on, wondering how many of her fellow guests had recog-nized or would recognize the Scotland Yard detective. In the drawingroom George was standing with a puckered brow and an orange envelopein his hand.
“Most vexatious,” he said. “A telegram from Mrs. Macatta to say she willbe unable to be with us. Her children are suffering from mumps.”
Bundle’s heart gave a throb of relief.
“I especially feel this on your account, Eileen,” said George kindly. “Iknow how anxious you were to meet her. The Countess too will be sadlydisappointed.”
“Oh, never mind,” said Bundle. “I should hate it if she’d come and givenme mumps.”
“A very distressing complaint,” agreed George. “But I do not think thatinfection could be carried that way. Indeed, I am sure that Mrs. Macattawould have run no risk of that kind. She is a most highly principled wo-man, with a very real sense of her responsibilities to the community. Inthese days of national stress, we must all take into account—”
On the brink of embarking on a speech, George pulled himself up short.
“But it must be for another time,” he said. “Fortunately there is no hurryin your case. But the Countess, alas, is only a visitor to our shores.”
“She’s a Hungarian, isn’t she?” said Bundle, who was curious about theCountess.
“Yes. You have heard, no doubt, of the Young Hungarian party. TheCountess is a leader of that party. A woman of great wealth, left a widowat an early age, she has devoted her money and her talents to the publicservice. She has especially devoted herself to the problem of infant mor-tality—a terrible one under present conditions in Hungary. I—Ah! here isHerr Eberhard.”
The German inventor was younger than Bundle had imagined him. Hewas probably not more than thirty-three or four. He was boorish and ill atease. And yet his personality was not an unpleasing one. His blue eyeswere more shy than furtive, and his more unpleasant mannerisms, suchas the one that Bill had described of gnawing his fingernails, arose, shethought, more from nervousness than from any other cause. He was thinand weedy in appearance and looked anaemic and delicate.
He conversed rather awkwardly with Bundle in stilted English and theyboth welcomed the interruption of the joyous Mr. O’Rourke. Presently Billbustled in—there is no other word for it: in the same such way does a fa-voured Newfoundland make his entrance — and at once came over toBundle. He was looking perplexed and harassed.
“Hullo, Bundle. Heard you’d got here. Been kept with my nose to thegrindstone all the blessed afternoon or I’d have seen you before.”
“Cares of State heavy tonight?” suggested O’Rourke sympathetically.
Bill groaned.
“I don’t know what your fellow’s like,” he complained. “Looks a good-natured, tubby little chap. But Codders is absolutely impossible. Drive,drive, drive, from morning to night. Everything you do is wrong, andeverything you haven’t done you ought to have done.”
“Quite like a quotation from the prayer book,” remarked Jimmy, whohad just strolled up.
Bill glanced at him reproachfully.
“Nobody knows,” he said pathetically, “what I have to put up with.”
“Entertaining the Countess, eh?” suggested Jimmy. “Poor Bill, that musthave been a sad strain to a woman hater like yourself.”
“What’s this?” asked Bundle.
“After tea,” said Jimmy with a grin, “the Countess asked Bill to show herround the interesting old place.”
“Well, I couldn’t refuse, could I?” said Bill, his countenance assuming abrick-red tint.
Bundle felt faintly uneasy. She knew, only too well, the susceptibility ofMr. William Eversleigh to female charms. In the hand of a woman like theCountess, Bill would be as wax. She wondered once more whether JimmyThesiger had been wise to take Bill into their confidence.
“The Countess,” said Bill, “is a very charming woman. And no end intel-ligent. You should have seen her going round the house. All sorts of ques-tions she asked.”
“What kind of questions?” asked Bundle suddenly.
Bill was vague.
“Oh! I don’t know. About the history of it. And old furniture. And—oh!
all sorts of things.”
At that moment the Countess swept into the room. She seemed a shadebreathless. She was looking magnificent in a close- fitting black velvetgown. Bundle noticed how Bill gravitated at once to her immediate neigh-bourhood. The serious spectacled young man joined him.
“Bill and Pongo have both got it badly,” observed Jimmy Thesiger with alaugh.
Bundle was by no means so sure that it was a laughing matter.
第十六章 双足飞龙教堂的晚会
第十六章 双足飞龙教堂的晚会
星期五下午邦德尔驱车来到双足飞龙教堂时，正好赶上喝下午茶的时间。乔治•洛马克斯以少有的热情走上前来迎接她。
“亲爱的艾琳，”他说道，“见到你我真是非常高兴。我邀请了你父亲却没有邀请你，还请你多多原谅。不过老实说，我做梦也没想到这种类型的晚会也会吸引你。当凯特勒姆侯爵夫人跟我说……呃……你对政治……呃……感兴趣时，我真是又惊……又喜。”
“我实在太想来了。”邦德尔坦白地说道。
“麦卡塔夫人坐晚一点的火车，过一会儿才到，”乔治说道，“昨天晚上她在曼彻斯特的一个集会上发表演讲。你认识塞西杰吗？很年轻的一个小伙子，但对外国政治却相当了解，真是人不可貌相啊。”
“认识。”邦德尔一边说着，一边郑重地和吉米握了握手。她发现他梳了个中分头，尽量使自己的表情更显得严肃。
“听我说，”趁乔治暂时走开，吉米压低声音匆匆说道，“你千万别生气，我把我们的小花招告诉比尔了。”
“比尔？”邦德尔生气地说道。
“唉，毕竟，”吉米说道，“比尔是我们一起的。罗尼是他的好朋友，格里也是。”
“哦，我知道。”邦德尔说道。
“抱歉，不过你还是觉得不妥吧？”
“比尔当然没问题，我不是这个意思，”邦德尔答道，“可是他……呃，比尔天生是个傻瓜。”
“脑子不机灵？”吉米试探着问道，“不过你别忘了……比尔的拳头可是很厉害呀。我总觉得厉害的拳头会派上用场的。”
“也许你是对的。他有什么反应？”
“他听了直挠脑袋……我是说很难让他明白到底是怎么回事。我只好用最简单的话，三番五次地重复着，他的榆木脑袋才算开了窍。当然，他跟我们是生死与共并肩作战的，可以这么说。”
乔治不知从哪儿又冒了出来。
“我来介绍一下，艾琳。这位是斯坦利•迪格比爵士……艾琳•布伦特小姐。这位是奥罗克先生。”航空部长是一个矮胖子，脸上挂着愉悦的笑容。奥罗克先生是个身材高大的年轻人，一对蓝眼睛始终带着笑意，有着一副典型的爱尔兰人的面孔。他热情地与邦德尔打了个招呼。
“说不定又是一次无聊的政客之间的聚会。”他压低嗓音嘟囔道。
“小声点，”邦德尔说道，“我对政治感兴趣，非常有兴趣。”
“还有你认识的奥斯瓦德爵士和库特夫人，”乔治继续介绍道。
“其实我们没见过面。”邦德尔微微一笑。
她暗自钦佩父亲对人物的刻画能力。
奥斯瓦德爵士的手像铁钳一样，捏得她不禁皱起了眉头。
库特夫人有些哀婉地打了个招呼，然后转向吉米•塞西杰，脸上流露出恬适的表情。尽管吉米吃早饭总是迟到，但库特夫人还是对这位和蔼可亲、粉红色脸蛋的年轻人抱有好感。她喜欢他那凡事不急不愠的好脾气。她有一个愿望，就是根治他的坏毛病，让他能够在这个世界上出人头地。至于这个愿望实现之后，他还会不会这么讨人喜欢，这个问题她倒从来没有问过自己。此时，她正跟他说起自己的一个朋友遭遇的一次惨痛的车祸。
“这位是贝特曼先生，”乔治简短地说道，好像要急着转到更好的一个话题。
一个表情严肃、脸色苍白的年轻人鞠了一躬。
“现在，”乔治继续说道，“我要向你介绍拉兹基伯爵夫人。”
拉兹基伯爵夫人刚才一直在跟贝特曼先生说话。她坐在沙发上，身子仰得很靠后，轻佻地跷着腿。她正在抽烟，烟斗上镶嵌着绿松石，烟管则长得惊人。
邦德尔觉得她是自己见过的最漂亮的女人之一。她的一双眼晴又大又蓝，一头乌发，皮肤雪白，长着斯拉夫人特有的略微扁平的鼻子，身材苗条柔美，双唇则涂得红红的，令双足飞龙教堂蓬荜生辉。
她急切地问道：“想必这位就是麦卡塔夫人吧？”
见乔治摇了摇头，又听他介绍说是邦德尔时，伯爵夫人便漫不经心地朝她点了点头，又开始跟表情严肃的贝特曼先生说起话来。
这时，邦德尔听见吉米悄悄地在她耳边说道：“黑猩猩完全被这个漂亮的斯拉夫女人迷住了。”他接着说道，“真可笑，对不对？走，我们去喝点茶吧。”
他们又和奥斯瓦德•库特爵士碰到一起。
“你们家的烟囱别墅真不错。”这位大人物感慨道。
“很高兴您喜欢。”邦德尔谦和地说道。
“就是管道需要重新换一下，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“要跟上潮流，对吧？”
他沉思了一两分钟。
“我租下了奥尔顿公爵的地方，租期三年。现在我正在找一个属于自己的地方。我猜想令尊即使想要卖，恐怕也不能卖吧？”
邦德尔惊讶得有点透不过气来。她有一种噩梦般的感觉，仿佛看到有无数个像库特一样的人都垂涎三尺地盯上了全英格兰无数个类似烟囱别墅的地方，不用说，这些地方全都装上了新潮的管道系统。
邦德尔突然感到一阵愤慨，但她告诫自己，这样的愤愤不平是荒唐可笑的。毕竟，拿凯特勒姆勋爵和奥斯瓦德•库特爵士作个比较，谁会败北立判可知。奥斯瓦德爵士拥有强有力的人格力量，所有跟他有过接触的人都相形见绌。用凯特勒姆勋爵的话来说，他就是一台蒸汽压路机，一个能压倒别人的人。然而，从很多方面来说，奥斯瓦德爵士毫无疑问是个笨蛋。除了他的专业知识和惊人的鼓动力，他很可能极其无知。而凯特勒姆勋爵所享受的千姿百态的悠然生活，对奥斯瓦德爵士来说简直是一部读不懂的天书。
邦德尔一边想着，一边愉快地跟人聊天。她听说赫尔•埃伯哈德先生已经到了，不过因为头痛得厉害，已经躺下休息了。这是想方设法靠过来献殷勤的奥罗克先生告诉她的。
总之，邦德尔上楼去更衣打扮时，是怀着有所期待的愉快心情的，但一想到麦卡塔夫人即将到来，她内心深处又不禁有些忐忑。邦德尔觉得，跟麦卡塔夫人周旋不会是一件轻松的事。
邦德尔换了一件带黑色花边的连衣裙，当她下楼穿过大厅时，她不禁大吃一惊。她看到那儿站着一个听差——或者说是一个穿着打扮像听差的人，但那魁梧的身材与身上的穿戴却显然不相配。邦德尔停住脚步盯着他看了看。
“巴特尔警司。”她低声叫道。
“没错，艾琳小姐。”
“啊！”邦德尔不相信地问道，“您来这儿……”
“看看会出什么事。”
“原来如此。”
“那封恐吓信，”警司说道，“让洛马克斯先生有些害怕。只要我到场，就不会有事的。”
“可是您不觉得……”邦德尔欲言又止。她不想嘲笑警司的伪装并不高明。她觉得巴特尔浑身上下都好像贴有“警察”的字样，就算是最没有戒心的罪犯也不难觉察。
“你觉得，”警司不动声色地问道，“我可能被认出来？”
“嗯，我确实是这样想的……”邦德尔承认道。
巴特尔警司呆板的脸上浮现出一丝笑容，似乎含有深意。
“会引起他们的警觉？唉，艾琳小姐，有什么不可以呢？”
“有什么不可以呢？”邦德尔重复了一遍，马上又觉得自己显得有那么一点儿笨。
巴特尔警司不紧不慢地点了点头。
“我们可不想有不愉快的事发生，对吧？”他说道，“不要自作聪明……让他们知道这里也可能有梁上君子……这么说吧，让他们知道有某个人在就行了。”
邦德尔钦佩地注视着他。可以想象，像巴特尔警司这样大名鼎鼎的人物突然现身，对图谋不轨的人来说无疑是一大阻吓。
“自作聪明会犯大错误，”巴特尔警司又强调了一次，“最要紧的是这个周未不要发生不愉快的事情。”
邦德尔一边继续朝前走着，一边思忖着在这群客人当中，有多少已经发现或者将会认出这位来自苏格兰场的侦探。只见乔治皱着眉头站在客厅里，手里拿着一个橙色的信封。
“真伤脑筋，”他说道，“麦卡塔夫人打电报说她来不了了。她的孩子得了腮腺炎。”
邦德尔松了口气。
“真可惜，艾琳，”乔治体贴地说道，“我知道你非常想见她。伯爵夫人也会非常失望的。”
“噢，没关系，”邦德尔答道，“要是她过来把腮腺炎传染给了我，那我可不愿意。”
“也只好这么说啦，”乔治表示认同，“不过我倒不觉得这样就会传染上腮腺炎。我敢肯定麦卡塔夫人不会冒这种险的。她是一个非常讲原则的人，很有集体责任感。在国家危难之际，我们都必须考虑……”
乔治正准备高谈阔论，突然又打住了话头。
“不过一定要另找一个机会，”他说道，“幸好对你来说不急。可是伯爵夫人，唉，她是专门来访问我们国家的贵宾呀。”
“她是匈牙利人，对吗？”邦德尔问道，她对这位伯爵夫人深感好奇。
“对。你肯定听说过青年匈牙利党吧？她是这个党的领袖之一。伯爵夫人很富有，很早就守寡，她把自己的财富和才智都奉献给了公益事业。尤其在降低婴儿死亡率方面，她花费了极大的心血，目前在匈牙利，婴儿死亡率问题非常严峻。我……啊！这位是赫尔•埃伯哈德先生。”
这位德国发明家比邦德尔想象的要年轻一些，可能不过三十三四岁。他看起来有些俗气，一副惴惴不安的样子，但人品好像还不赖。他那双蓝色的眼睛透露出一点点狡黠，但更多的还是腼腆，而他那些令人不快的举止——比如比尔说的动不动就会啃指甲，她倒觉得更多的是因为紧张不安引起的。他瘦弱的身材看上去弱不禁风。
他用拗口的英语吃力地与邦德尔聊着，好在风趣的奥罗克插进来打断了他们的交谈，让两人都有如释重负之感。接着，比尔像只无头苍蝇似的闯了进来，匆匆忙忙地直奔邦德尔。他看上去不知所措，又显得疲惫不堪。
“喂，邦德尔，听说你来了。整个下午我都忙得像一头拉磨的驴子，要不然我早就来找你了。”
“是不是在操心国家大事？”奥罗克同情地问道。
比尔哼了一声。
“不知道你的同伴怎么样，”他抱怨道，“看上去是个性情和善、矮矮胖胖的家伙。不过老鳕鱼真叫人受不了，从早到晚像催命鬼似的。你做的每一件事都是错的，而你没做的每一件事都应该早就做好。”
“像是从祈祷书里摘下来的话。”刚走过来的吉米说道。
比尔责备地瞥了他们一眼。
“有谁知道我干的是什么苦差事！”他可怜兮兮地说道。
“哄伯爵夫人开心？”吉米说道，“可怜的比尔，对于像你这样不喜欢女人的人来说，这肯定让你伤透了脑筋。”
“此话怎讲？”邦德尔问道。
“喝过下午茶之后，”吉米咧嘴笑道，“伯爵夫人要比尔带她去一个有趣的老地方。”
“得啦！我能拒绝？！我能不去？！”比尔说着，脸一下子变得像红砖一样。
邦德尔略微有些不安。比尔•埃弗斯利先生对漂亮女人很多情，这一点她太清楚了。要是落到伯爵夫人这样的女人手里，比尔肯定像一团想怎么捏就怎么捏的面团。她再次怀疑起吉米•塞西杰把他们的秘密告诉比尔是不是明智之举。
“伯爵夫人是个风情万种的女人，”比尔说道，“而且非常聪明。你真应该陪她围着房子转一圈，听听她问的各式各样的问题。”
“什么样的问题？”邦德尔突然问道。
比尔含糊其辞。
“唉！我答不上来。关于它的历史，还有旧家具。还有……唉，各式各样的问题。”
就在这时，伯爵夫人翩然而至。她好像有点气喘吁吁，穿着一件黑色天鹅绒紧身长袍，看上去雍容华贵。邦德尔注意到比尔马上就被吸引过去，围在她的身旁。那个表情严肃、戴着眼镜的年轻人也凑了过去。
“比尔和黑猩猩都馋死了。”吉米•塞西杰坏笑着说道。
但邦德尔一点也不觉得好笑。
Seventeen AFTER DINNER
Seventeen AFTER DINNER

George was not a believer in modern innovations. The Abbey was inno-cent of anything so up to date as central heating. Consequently, when theladies entered the drawing room after dinner, the temperature of theroom was woefully inadequate to the needs of modern evening clothes.
The fire that burnt in the well-furnished steel grate became as a magnet.
The three women huddled round it.
“Brrrrrrrrrr!” said the Countess, a fine, exotic foreign sound.
“The days are drawing in,” said Lady Coote, and drew a flowered atro-city of a scarf closer about her ample shoulders.
“Why on earth doesn’t George have the house properly heated?” saidBundle.
“You English, you never heat your houses,” said the Countess.
She took out her long cigarette holder and began to smoke.
“That grate is old-fashioned,” said Lady Coote. “The heat goes up thechimney instead of into the room.”
“Oh!” said the Countess.
There was a pause. The Countess was so plainly bored by her companythat conversation became difficult.
“It’s funny,” said Lady Coote, breaking the silence, “that Mrs. Macatta’schildren should have mumps. At least, I don’t mean exactly funny—”
“What,” said the Countess, “are mumps?”
Bundle and Lady Coote started simultaneously to explain. Finally,between them, they managed it.
“I suppose Hungarian children have it?” asked Lady Coote.
“Eh?” said the Countess.
“Hungarian children. They suffer from it?”
“I do not know,” said the Countess. “How should I?”
Lady Coote looked at her in some surprise.
“But I understood that you worked—”
“Oh, that!” The Countess uncrossed her legs, took her cigarette holderfrom her mouth and began to talk rapidly.
“I will tell you some horrors,” she said. “Horrors that I have seen. In-credible! You would not believe!”
And she was as good as her word. She talked fluently and with a graphicpower of description. Incredible scenes of starvation and misery werepainted by her for the benefit of her audience. She spoke of Buda Pesthshortly after the war and traced its vicissitudes to the present day. Shewas dramatic, but she was also, to Bundle’s mind, a little like a gramo-phone record. You turned her on, and there you were. Presently, just assuddenly, she would stop.
Lady Coote was thrilled to the marrow—that much was clear. She satwith her mouth slightly open and her large, sad, dark eyes fixed on theCountess. Occasionally, she interpolated a comment of her own.
“One of my cousins had three children burned to death. Awful, wasn’tit?”
The Countess paid no attention. She went on and on. And she finallystopped as suddenly as she had begun.
“There!” she said. “I have told you. We have money—but no organiza-tion. It is organization we need.”
Lady Coote sighed.
“I’ve heard my husband say that nothing can be done without regularmethods. He attributes his own success entirely to that. He declares hewould never have got on without them.”
She sighed again. A sudden fleeting vision passed before her eyes of aSir Oswald who had not got on in the world. A Sir Oswald who retained, inall essentials, the attributes of that cheery young man in the bicycle shop.
Just for a second it occurred to her how much pleasanter life might havebeen for her if Sir Oswald had not had regular methods.
By a quite understandable association of ideas she turned to Bundle.
“Tell me, Lady Eileen,” she said; “do you like that head gardener ofyours?”
“MacDonald? Well—” Bundle hesitated. “One couldn’t exactly like Mac-Donald,” she explained apologetically. “But he’s a first-class gardener.”
“Oh! I know he is,” said Lady Coote.
“He’s all right if he’s kept in his place,” said Bundle.
“I suppose so,” said Lady Coote.
She looked enviously at Bundle, who appeared to approach the task ofkeeping MacDonald in his place so lightheartedly.
“I’d just adore a high-toned garden,” said the Countess dreamily.
Bundle stared, but at that moment a diversion occurred. Jimmy Thesigerentered the room and spoke directly to her in a strange, hurried voice.
“I say, will you come and see those etchings now? They’re waiting foryou.”
Bundle left the room hurriedly, Jimmy close behind her.
“What etchings?” she asked, as the drawing room door closed behindher.
“No etchings,” said Jimmy. “I’d got to say something to get hold of you.
Come on, Bill is waiting for us in the library. There’s nobody there.”
Bill was striding up and down the library, clearly in a very perturbedstate of mind.
“Look here,” he burst out, “I don’t like this.”
“Don’t like what?”
“You being mixed up in this. Ten to one there’s going to be a roughhouse and then—”
He looked at her with a kind of pathetic dismay that gave Bundle awarm and comfortable feeling.
“She ought to be kept out of it, oughtn’t she, Jimmy?”
He appealed to the other.
“I’ve told her so,” said Jimmy.
“Dash it all, Bundle, I mean—someone might get hurt.”
Bundle turned round to Jimmy.
“How much have you told him?”
“Oh! everything.”
“I haven’t got the hang of it all yet,” confessed Bill. “You in that place inSeven Dials and all that.” He looked at her unhappily. “I say, Bundle, Iwish you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?”
“Get mixed up in these sort of things.”
“Why not?” said Bundle. “They’re exciting.”
“Oh, yes—exciting. But they may be damnably dangerous. Look at poorold Ronny.”
“Yes,” said Bundle. “If it hadn’t been for your friend Ronny, I don’t sup-pose I should ever have got what you call ‘mixed up’ in this thing. But Iam. And it’s no earthly use your bleating about it.”
“I know you’re the most frightful sport, Bundle, but—”
“Cut out the compliments. Let’s make plans.”
To her relief, Bill reacted favourably to the suggestion.
“You’re right about the formula,” he said. “Eberhard’s got some sort offormula with him, or rather Sir Oswald has. The stuff has been tested outat his works—very secretly and all that. Eberhard has been down therewith him. They’re all in the study now—what you might call coming downto brass tacks.”
“How long is Sir Stanley Digby staying?” asked Jimmy.
“Going back to town tomorrow.”
“H’m,” said Jimmy. “Then one thing’s quite clear. If, as I suppose, SirStanley will be taking the formula with him, any funny business there’sgoing to be will be tonight.”
“I suppose it will.”
“Not a doubt of it. That narrows the thing down very comfortably. Butthe bright lads will have to be their very brightest. We must come down todetails. First of all, where will the sacred formula be tonight? Will Eber-hard have it, or Sir Oswald Coote?”
“Neither. I understand it’s to be handed over to the Air Minister thisevening, for him to take to town tomorrow. In that case O’Rourke willhave it. Sure to.”
“Well, there’s only one thing for it. If we believe someone’s going tohave a shot at pinching that paper, we’ve got to keep watch tonight, Bill,my boy.”
Bundle opened her mouth as though to protest, but shut it again withoutspeaking.
“By the way,” continued Jimmy, “did I recognize the commissionairefrom Harrods in the hall this evening, or was it our old friend Lestradefrom Scotland Yard?”
“Scintillating, Watson,” said Bill.
“I suppose,” said Jimmy, “that we are rather butting in on his pre-serves.”
“Can’t be helped,” said Bill. “Not if we mean to see this thing through.”
“Then it’s agreed,” said Jimmy. “We divide the night into two watches?”
Again Bundle opened her mouth, and again shut it without speaking.
“Right you are,” agreed Bill. “Who’ll take first duty?”
“Shall we spin for it?”
“Might as well.”
“All right. Here goes. Heads you first and I second. Tails, vice versa.”
Bill nodded. The coin spun in the air. Jimmy bent to look at it.
“Tails,” he said.
“Damn,” said Bill. “You get first half and probably any fun that’s going.”
“Oh, you never know,” said Jimmy. “Criminals are very uncertain. Whattime shall I wake you? Three?”
“That’s about fair, I think.”
And now, at last, Bundle spoke:
“What about me?” she asked.
“Nothing doing. You go to bed and sleep.”
“Oh!” said Bundle. “That’s not very exciting.”
“You never know,” said Jimmy kindly. “You may be murdered in yoursleep while Bill and I escape scot-free.”
“Well, there’s always that possibility. Do you know, Jimmy, I don’t halflike the look of that countess. I suspect her.”
“Nonsense,” cried Billy hotly. “She’s absolutely above suspicion.”
“How do you know?” retorted Bundle.
“Because I do. Why, one of the fellows at the Hungarian Embassyvouched for her.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, momentarily taken aback by his fervour.
“You girls are all the same,” grumbled Bill. “Just because she’s a jollygood-looking woman—”
Bundle was only too well-acquainted with this unfair masculine line ofargument.
“Well, don’t you go and pour confidences into her shell-pink ear,” she re-marked. “I’m going to bed. I was bored stiff with that drawing room andI’m not going back.”
She left the room. Bill looked at Jimmy.
“Good old Bundle,” he said. “I was afraid we might have trouble withher. You know how keen she is to be in everything. I think the way shetook it was just wonderful.”
“So did I,” said Jimmy. “It staggered me.”
“She’s got some sense, Bundle has. She knows when a thing’s plumb im-possible. I say, oughtn’t we to have some lethal weapons? Chaps usuallydo when they’re going on this sort of stunt.”
“I have a bluenosed automatic,” said Jimmy with gentle pride. “It weighsseveral pounds and looks most dangerous. I’ll lend it to you when the timecomes.”
Bill looked at him with respect and envy.
“What made you think of getting that?” he said.
“I don’t know,” said Jimmy carelessly. “It just came to me.”
“I hope we shan’t go and shoot the wrong person,” said Bill with someanxiety.
“That would be unfortunate,” said Mr. Thesiger gravely.
第十七章 晚餐之后
第十七章 晚餐之后
乔治从不迷信现代发明，所以双足飞龙教堂没有安装诸如集中供暖之类的时髦设施。
结果，当女士们用好晚餐走进客厅时，发现房间的温度显然不足以匹配身上的摩登晚装。
壁炉里熊熊燃烧的火焰就像一块巨大的磁铁，三位女士不由自主地被吸引过去，围在了炉火一旁。
“哇……”伯爵夫人打着冷颤叫了一声，就算是外国口音，听起来也是娇滴滴的。
“白天越来越短了。”库特夫人说着，拉了拉那条印有花卉图案的俗不可耐的围巾，硕大的肩膀被箍得越发紧了。
“乔治为什么不把屋子弄暖和一点？”邦德尔说道。
“你们这些英国人，从来就不会把屋子弄暖和。”伯爵夫人嗔怪道。
她取出那根细长烟斗抽起烟来。
“这壁炉也太老土了，”库特夫人说道，“热气都从烟囱跑出去了，根本就没进房间。”
“嗯！”伯爵夫人说道。
大家没有再说话。伯爵夫人显然对这两个同伴有些厌烦了，所以谈话很难继续下去。
“真有意思，”库特夫人打破了沉默，“麦卡塔夫人的孩子竟会得腮腺炎。哦，我不是说真的很有意思……”
“什么是腮腺炎？”伯爵夫人问道。
邦德尔和库特夫人不约而同地争相解释起来。最后，她们俩好不容易才让伯爵夫人明白了这个词的意思。
“匈牙利的小孩也会得腮腺炎吧？”库特夫人问道。
“嗯？”伯爵夫人好像没有听懂。
“我是说匈牙利的小孩，他们也深受腮腺炎之苦吧？”
“不知道，”伯爵夫人答道，“我怎么知道？！”
库特夫人有些诧异地看着她。
“可我知道你做的是……”
“噢，那个呀！”伯爵夫人放下跷起的腿，取下了嘴里衔着的烟斗，快言快语地说道，“我跟你们讲一些恐怖的事情，我亲眼见过的恐怖事情。难以置信！你们肯定不相信！”
她说得有鼻子有眼，口若悬河，绘声绘色。在这两位听众的面前，出现了一幅幅饥寒交迫的悲惨场景。她谈到战后不久的布达佩斯，追溯了它迄今为止的沧桑变迁。她很会使用夸张的手法，但在邦德尔看来，她有点儿像留声机上的唱片。你只要打开开关，她就开始唱起来，你不想听了，她又会戛然而止。这不，伯爵夫人突然住了口。
库特夫人听得毛骨悚然，这一眼就看得出来。她端坐在那里专注地听着，嘴巴微微张开，哀伤的大眼睛直直地盯着伯爵夫人。偶尔，她也插入一两句自己的议论。
“我有一个表姐，她的三个孩子都被活活烧死了，很恐怖，对吧？”
伯爵夫人没有理会，只是自顾自不停地讲下去。最后，她突然停住了，就像刚开始开口一样突然。
“就这样！”她说道，“我跟你们说过了，我们不缺钱……但缺乏组织。我们需要的是组织！”
库特夫人叹了口气。
“我听我丈夫说过，做事情没有章法就什么事都做不成。他把他的成功完全归功于有条不紊。他说如果没有章法，他就永远不会出人头地。”
她又叹了口气。如果奥斯瓦德爵士没能出人头地，那又会怎样？她的眼前突然掠过这样一幅场景。他仍然保持着当初在自行车店干活时快乐的年轻人的特征。要是奥斯瓦德爵士不那么有条有理、按部就班，她的生活该有多开心啊。但也就是一会儿的工夫，她便打消了这个念头。
出于可以理解的原因，库特夫人转向邦德尔。
“告诉我，艾琳小姐，”她说道，“你喜欢你们家的那个园丁头儿吗？”
“麦克唐纳？嗯……”邦德尔迟疑了一下，想着该怎么措辞。
“谁都不会真正喜欢麦克唐纳的，”她歉意地解释道，“不过，他是一个一流的园丁。”
“噢！这个我知道。”库特夫人答道。
库特夫人嫉妒地看着邦德尔，显然麦克唐纳愿意听邦德尔的使唤。
“我非常喜欢高雅的花园。”伯爵夫人如梦呓般说道。
邦德尔瞪大了眼睛，静等伯爵夫人的下文，但这时吉米•塞西杰走了进来，冲她又急又怪地说道：
“哎，现在去看看那些版画好吗？好看着呢。”
邦德尔赶忙走出了客厅，吉米则紧跟在她的身后。
“什么版画？”她问道，随手关上了客厅的门。
“没有版画，”吉米答道，“我得找个借口把你叫出来。跟我来，比尔在藏书室等着呢。
那儿没人。”
比尔在房间里踱来踱去，显得焦躁不安。
“听着，”他突然大声说道，“我不喜欢这样。”
“不喜欢哪样？”
“你卷进来。十有八九会是一场混乱，然后……”他的目光里透着一丝不忍，令她内心一阵温暖。
“她应该在一边待着，对不对，吉米？”他冲吉米恳求道。
“我早就跟她说了。”吉米答道。
“该死！邦德尔，我是说……可能会有人受伤。”
邦德尔转身问吉米：
“你跟他说了多少？”
“噢！全都说了。”
“我还没全搞明白，”比尔坦诚地说道，“搞不懂你说的七面钟俱乐部什么的。”他怏怏地看着她。“我说，邦德尔，真希望你不要。”
“不要什么？”
“不要插手这种事情。”
“为什么不？”邦德尔反问道，“多刺激呀。”
“噢，是……是刺激，但也可能非常危险。你瞧瞧可怜的罗尼。”
“哼，”邦德尔说道，“要不是因为你的朋友罗尼，我才不会像你说的卷进来呢。不过我已经卷进来了，再说什么废话也无济于事了。”
“我知道你天不怕地不怕，邦德尔，可是……”
“少来了。我们还是安排一下吧。”
比尔接受了她的提议，这让她颇感宽慰。
“你说的配方的事是对的，”他说道，“赫尔•埃伯哈德确实有个配方，或者说奥斯瓦德爵士掌握了什么配方。他的工厂已经对材料做过测试了……当然，一切都是秘密进行的。赫尔•埃伯哈德一直跟他在一起。此刻他们全都在书房里……正在谈实质性问题吧。”
“斯坦利•迪格比爵士会待多久？”吉米问道。
“明天就回城里。”
“哼，”吉米说道，“要我说，有一件事非常明显。如果斯坦利爵士要带配方走，那么，稀奇古怪的事就肯定是在今晚发生了。”
“我想也是。”
“肯定是。这样我们关注的范围就小得多了。我们绝不能放过任何蛛丝马迹。首先，今天晚上那个神秘的配方会在谁的身上？是赫尔•埃伯哈德，还是奥斯瓦德爵士？”
“都不会。依我看，今天晚上配方就会交到航空部长手里，明天他再带进城。这么一来，配方就会落到奥罗克手里。肯定是这样。”
“哦，那么就只有一件事可干了。如果认定有人要偷配方，今天晚上我们可就得多加留神了，比尔老弟。”
邦德尔张了张嘴似乎想表示异议，但她又把嘴边的话咽下去了。
“对了，”吉米接着说道，“今天晚上我在大厅打招呼的那个人，是从哈罗斯来的华生，还是苏格兰场的老朋友雷斯垂德 [1] ？”
“说起话来妙语连珠，怕是华生。”比尔答道。
“我们大概有些冒犯了，”吉米揣测道。
“也顾不得那么多了，”比尔说道，“好歹我们要把事情弄个水落石出。”
“那就这样吧，”吉米说道，“我们两个轮流值夜？”
邦德尔又张了张嘴，但又一次忍住没有说话。
“好的，”比尔表示赞同，“谁守上半夜？”
“要不抛硬币吧？”
“也好。”
“好的，那我抛了。正面朝上的话你守上半夜，我守下半夜。背面朝上的话就相反。”
比尔点了点头。硬币在空中翻了几个跟头落下。吉米弯腰查看。
“是背面。”他说道。
“真该死，”比尔说道，“你是上半夜，要出事的话，最有可能是在上半夜。”
“这可难说，”吉米答道，“罪犯往往是捉摸不定的。我什么时候叫醒你？三点钟？”
“这还算公平。”
这时，邦德尔终于开口了。
“那我呢？”她问道。
“没你的事，你上床放心睡觉好了。”
“啊！”邦德尔说道，“那太没劲了。”
“这可不好说，”吉米呵呵地说道，“没准你会在睡梦中被人干掉，而我和比尔却平安无事。”
“唉，这种可能性也是有的。你知道吗，吉米，我一点也不喜欢伯爵夫人的那副腔调。
我觉得她很可疑。”
“胡说，”比尔叫道，“她绝对没问题。”
“你怎么知道？”邦德尔反驳道。
“因为我确实知道。匈牙利大使馆有人做担保。”
“哦！”邦德尔被他的激烈情绪吓了一跳。
“你们女孩子都是一副德性，”比尔嘟囔着说道，“还不就是因为人家长得漂亮……”
邦德尔见惯了男人的这种偏见。
“得啦，你还是向她去倾诉自己的知心话吧。”她说道，“我睡觉去了。这个客厅无聊透了，我不回去了。”
她转身离开了藏书室。比尔看着吉米。
“邦德尔真是好样的，”他说道，“刚才我还在担心说服不了她，凡事她都喜欢较真。她能接受真是太棒了。”
“我也这么觉得，”吉米说道，“真让我吃惊。”
“讲道理，我是说邦德尔。她明白什么时候不该做什么事。嗨，我们是不是该准备一样厉害的武器？做这种事的人一般都带家伙的。”
“我有一把枪管烤蓝的自动手枪，”吉米有些得意地说道，“有好几磅重，厉害得很。到时候我借给你。”
比尔看着他，艳羡不已。
“你怎么想到要带这玩意儿？”他问道。
“我也说不上来，”吉米漫不经心地说道，“碰巧就想到了。”
“希望我们不要杀错了人。”比尔不安地说道。
“要是那样就太糟了。”塞西杰先生脸色凝重地说道。
[1]华生和雷斯垂德是福尔摩斯故事里的经典人物，是“助手”的代名词。
Eighteen JIMMY’S ADVENTURES
Eighteen JIMMY’S ADVENTURES

Our chronicle must here split into three separate and distinct portions.
The night was to prove an eventful one and each of the three persons in-volved saw it from his or her own individual angle.
We will begin with that pleasant and engaging youth, Mr. JimmyThesiger, at a moment when he has at last exchanged final good nightswith his fellow conspirator, Bill Eversleigh.
“Don’t forget,” said Bill, “three a.m. If you’re still alive, that is,” he addedkindly.
“I may be an ass,” said Jimmy, with rancorous remembrance of the re-mark Bundle had repeated to him, “but I’m not nearly so much of an assas I look.”
“That’s what you said about Gerry Wade,” said Bill slowly. “Do you re-member? And that very night he—”
“Shut up, you damned fool,” said Jimmy. “Haven’t you got any tact?”
“Of course I’ve got tact,” said Bill. “I’m a budding diplomatist. All diplo-matists have tact.”
“Ah!” said Jimmy. “You must be still in what they call the larval stage.”
“I can’t get over Bundle,” said Bill, reverting abruptly to a former topic.
“I should certainly have said that she’d be—well, difficult. Bundle’s im-proved. She’s improved very much.”
“That’s what your Chief was saying,” said Jimmy. “He said he was agree-ably surprised.”
“I thought Bundle was laying it on a bit thick myself,” said Bill. “But Cod-ders is such an ass he’d swallow anything. Well, night-night. I expect you’llhave a bit of a job waking me when the times comes—but stick to it.”
“It won’t be much good if you’ve taken a leaf out of Gerry Wade’s book,”
said Jimmy maliciously.
Bill looked at him reproachfully.
“What the hell do you want to go and make a chap uncomfortable for?”
he demanded.
“I’m only getting my own back,” said Jimmy. “Toddle along.”
But Bill lingered. He stood uncomfortably, first on one foot and then onthe other.
“Look here,” he said.
“Yes?”
“What I mean to say is—well, I mean you’ll be all right and all that,won’t you? It’s all very well ragging but when I think of poor Gerry—andthen poor old Ronny—”
Jimmy gazed at him in exasperation. Bill was one of those who un-doubtedly meant well, but the result of his efforts would not be describedas heartening.
“I see,” he remarked, “that I shall have to show you Leopold.”
He slipped his hand into the pocket of the dark-blue suit into which hehad just changed and held out something for Bill’s inspection.
“A real, genuine, bluenosed automatic,” he said with modest pride.
“No. I say,” said Bill, “is it really?”
He was undoubtedly impressed.
“Stevens, my man, got him for me. Warranted clean and methodical inhis habits. You press the button and Leopold does the rest.”
“Oh!” said Bill. “I say, Jimmy?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful, won’t you? I mean, don’t go loosing that thing off at any-body. Pretty awkward if you shot old Digby walking in his sleep.”
“That’s all right,” said Jimmy. “Naturally, I want to get value out of oldLeopold now I’ve bought him, but I’ll curb my bloodthirsty instincts as faras possible.”
“Well, night-night,” said Bill for the fourteenth time, and this time reallydid depart.
Jimmy was left alone to take up his vigil.
Sir Stanley Digby occupied a room at the extremity of the west wing. Abathroom adjoined it on one side, and on the other a communicating doorled into a smaller room, which was tenanted by Mr. Terence O’Rourke.
The doors of these three rooms gave on to a short corridor. The watcherhad a simple task. A chair placed inconspicuously in the shadow of an oakpress just where the corridor ran into the main gallery formed a perfectvantage ground. There was no other way into the west wing, and anyonegoing to or from it could not fail to be seen. One electric light was still on.
Jimmy ensconced himself comfortably, crossed his legs and waited. Leo-pold lay in readiness across his knee.
He glanced at his watch. It was twenty minutes to one—just an hoursince the household had retired to rest. Not a sound broke the stillness, ex-cept for the far-off ticking of a clock somewhere.
Somehow or other, Jimmy did not much care for that sound. It recalledthings. Gerald Wade—and those seven ticking clocks on the mantelpiece.?.?. Whose hand had placed them there, and why? He shivered.
It was a creepy business, this waiting. He didn’t wonder that thingshappened at spiritualistic séances. Sitting in the gloom, one got all workedup—ready to start at the least sound. And unpleasant thoughts came in ona fellow.
Ronny Devereux! Ronny Devereux and Gerry Wade! Both young, bothfull of life and energy; ordinary, jolly, healthy young men. And now,where were they? Dank earth .?.?. worms getting them .?.?. Ugh! whycouldn’t he put these horrible thoughts out of his mind?
He looked again at his watch. Twenty minutes past one only. How thetime crawled.
Extraordinary girl, Bundle! Fancy having the nerve and daring actuallyto get into the midst of that Seven Dials place. Why hadn’t he had thenerve and initiative to think of that? He supposed because the thing was sofantastic.
No 7. Who the hell could No 7 be? Was he, perhaps, in the house at thisminute? Disguised as a servant. He couldn’t, surely, be one of the guests.
No, that was impossible. But then, the whole thing was impossible. If hehadn’t believed Bundle to be essentially truthful—well, he would havethought she had invented the whole thing.
He yawned. Queer, to feel sleepy, and yet at the same time strung up. Helooked again at his watch. Ten minutes to two. Time was getting on.
And then, suddenly, he held his breath and leaned forward, listening.
He had heard something.
The minutes went past .?.?. There it was again. The creak of a board .?.?.
But it came from downstairs somewhere. There it was again! A slight,ominous creak. Somebody was moving stealthily about the house.
Jimmy sprang noiselessly to his feet. He crept silently to the head of thestaircase. Everything seemed perfectly quiet. Yet he was quite certain hehad really heard that stealthy sound. It was not imagination.
Very quietly and cautiously he crept down the staircase, Leopoldclasped tightly in his right hand. Not a sound in the big hall. If he had beencorrect in assuming that the muffled sound came from directly beneathhim, then it must have come from the library.
Jimmy stole to the door of it, listened, but heard nothing; then, suddenlyflinging open the door, he switched on the lights.
Nothing! The big room was flooded with light. But it was empty.
Jimmy frowned.
“I could have sworn—” he murmured to himself.
The library was a large room with three windows which opened on tothe terrace. Jimmy strode across the room. The middle window was un-latched.
He opened it and stepped out on to the terrace, looking from end to endof it. Nothing!
“Looks all right,” he murmured to himself. “And yet—”
He remained for a minute lost in thought. Then he stepped back into thelibrary. Crossing to the door, he locked it and put the key in his pocket.
Then he switched off the light. He stood for a minute listening, thencrossed softly to the open window and stood there, Leopold ready in hishand.
Was there, or was there not, a soft patter of feet along the terrace? No—his imagination. He grasped Leopold tightly and stood listening. .?.?.
In the distance a stable clock chimed two.
第十八章 吉米的冒险
第十八章 吉米的冒险
接下来我们将分三条线来叙述。这一夜将被证明是一个多事之夜，三个当事人分别从各自的角度目睹了发生的一切。
我们先从那个开心快活、讨人喜欢的年轻人吉米•塞西杰先生跟他的同谋比尔•埃弗斯利互道晚安的那一刻说起。
“别忘了，”比尔说道，“凌晨三点钟叫醒我——到时你还活着的话。”他乐呵呵地补充了一句。
“说不定我是头蠢驴，”吉米说道，他恨恨地想起了邦德尔告诉他的别人对他的评价，“但我并不像看上去那么蠢。”
“这也是你对格里•韦德的评价吧，”比尔慢吞吞地说道，“还记得吗？就在那天晚上他……”
“闭嘴，你这该死的笨蛋，”吉米说道，“你会说话吗？”
“当然会啦，”比尔答道，“我可是个外交新秀，所有的外交官都很会说话。”
“哇！”吉米挖苦道，“那你一定还处在所谓的幼虫期。”
“邦德尔还真让我搞不懂，”比尔突然又扯回原来的话题，“我以前肯定说过，她……呃……很难缠吧。邦德尔是有长进了，而且是明显的长进。”
“你的顶头上司经常这么说吧，”吉米说道，“他说他很惊喜。”
“我倒觉得邦德尔有点过分讨好了，”比尔说，“不过老鳕鱼是个大笨蛋，他什么都信。
好啦，晚安。到点了一定要叫醒我啊……可别忘了。”
“不过你可不要步格里•韦德的后尘，否则再怎么叫你也是枉然。”吉米不怀好意地说道。
比尔用责备的眼神看着他。
“干嘛说这种话，叫人浑身不自在。”
“好啦，一报还一报，”吉米说，“去睡觉吧。”
但比尔并没有马上离开。他浑身不自在地站在那里，晃动着身体。
“听我说。”他说道。
“什么？”
“我想说……呃……我希望你平安无事，还有整件事都是胡闹，可我一想到可怜的格里……还有可怜的罗尼……”
吉米生气了，瞪着他。毫无疑问，比尔是好心，但结果却适得其反。
“看来，”他说道，“我得把真家伙掏出来让你看看。”
他把手伸进刚刚换上的深蓝色西装口袋，掏出一样东西给比尔看。
“货真价实的枪管烤蓝自动手枪。”他面露得意之色。
“哦，我说，”比尔说道，“是真的吗？”
毫无疑问，他被镇住了。
“我的仆人史蒂文斯帮我弄的。他办事向来干脆利落。只要扣下扳机，其他的交给这家伙就行了。”
“噢！”比尔说道，“我说，吉米……”
“什么事？”
“一定要小心，可别对着人乱打，要是打中了梦游的迪格比老兄就惨了。”
“好的，”吉米说道，“不过，既然我买了枪，自然想发挥它的作用，我尽量克制吧。”
“好啦，晚安！”这是比尔第十四次道晚安了，说完他终于离开了。
吉米独自一人留下来守夜。
斯坦利•迪格比爵士住在西边最里面的一个房间，房间的一边是一间浴室，另一边是一道门，可以通往特伦斯•奥罗克的那个小房间。这三个房间的房门都朝向一段不长的走廊。
守夜并不难，就在这条走廊与主走廊的连接处有一个橡木柜子，这个柜子投下了一片阴影，而阴影当中有一把不起眼的椅子。这是一个完美的“哨位”。通往西边再没有别的路线，任何进出的人都躲不过吉米的眼睛。那里还有一盏电灯。
吉米舒舒服服地坐在那把椅子上，跷着腿，利奥波德自动手枪则搁在膝盖上，随手就可以举枪射击。
他看了一眼手表，还差二十分钟就一点钟了——离大家各自回房休息才过了差不多一个小时。四周一片寂静，只有远处传来的某只钟的滴答声。
不知怎的，吉米不喜欢听到那嘀答作响的钟声。这声音勾起了吉米的回忆。格里•韦德——还有壁炉架上的那七个滴答作响的闹钟……是谁把它们放在那儿的？为什么？他不由得一阵战栗。
这样的等待令人不安。此时，他觉得招魂术或通灵术并没有什么神奇的。坐在阴暗的角落，每个人都会精神紧张——任何一点小声响都会让人惊跳起来，紧接着脑海里会涌现出许许多多阴暗的杂念。
罗尼•德弗卢！还有格里•韦德！两个都是年轻人，朝气蓬勃、普普通通、无忧无虑、身心健全。可如今，他们身在何处？都在阴冷的泥土里……喂蚯蚓……呸！为什么老是想这些可怕的事情！
他又看了一次表，才一点二十。时间过得可真慢。
他心想，邦德尔真是不同凡响！竟然单枪匹马勇闯七面钟俱乐部。为什么他就没有那份胆识？也许是这件事本身就太过离奇了吧。
还有七点钟。七点钟究竟是谁？此时此刻是不是也在这里？化装成一个仆人？他肯定不是某个客人。不，这不可能。要是这样，就说不通了。但如果他不相信邦德尔说的基本属实——那么，难道所有的事情都是她凭空捏造出来的？
他打了个哈欠。太难受了，他渐渐有了睡意，但同时神经又绷得紧紧的。他又看了看表，差十分两点。时间还在往前走。
就在这时，突然，他屏住呼吸，身子往前倾了倾，侧耳聆听起来。似乎有什么声响。
又过了几分钟……又有一丝声响。是一块木板发出的咯吱声……是从楼下某个地方传来的。接着又响了一下！很轻微的咯吱声。有人在屋子里蹑手蹑脚地走动。
吉米悄无声息地从椅子上一跃而起。他悄悄走近楼梯口。周围似乎静悄悄的，但他确信听见了蹑手蹑脚的脚步声，不是幻觉。
他小心翼翼地走下楼梯，几乎没有发出声响，右手紧紧地握着那把手枪。大厅里一点声音也没有。他觉得那些轻微的响动是从哨位的正下方发出的。如果他的判断没错，那么就一定是藏书室。
吉米悄悄地摸到藏书室的门前，侧耳听了一会儿，却什么也没听见。然后，他猛地一推门，打开了屋里的灯。
什么也没有！整个房间一片通明，空荡荡的。
吉米皱起了眉头。
“我可以发誓……”他喃喃地自语道。
藏书室面积不小，有三个窗户朝向露台。吉米朝窗户快步走去，发现当中的那扇窗户没有插上插销。
他打开窗户跨到露台，四下看了看，什么也没有！
“看来没事，”他喃喃地自语道，“可是……”
他茫然了一会儿，然后又回到藏书室，穿过房间走到门口，把门锁上，再把钥匙放进口袋，然后把灯关掉。他静静地站着，侧耳倾听了一会儿，然后又轻手轻脚地走到那扇开着的窗户跟前，手里紧握着那把手枪。
轻微的脚步声是从露台传来的吗？不——是他的幻觉。他紧紧地攥着手枪，站在那儿侧耳倾听……
远处传来两声报时的声音。
Nineteen BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES
Nineteen BUNDLE’S ADVENTURES

Bundle Brent was a resourceful girl—she was also a girl of imagination.
She had foreseen that Bill, if not Jimmy, would make objections to her par-ticipation in the possible dangers of the night. It was not Bundle’s idea towaste time in argument. She had laid her own plans and made her ownarrangements. A glance from her bedroom window shortly before dinnerhad been highly satisfactory. She had known that the grey walls of the Ab-bey were plentifully adorned with ivy, but the ivy outside her window wasparticularly solid looking and would present no difficulties to one of herathletic propensities.
She had no fault to find with Bill’s and Jimmy’s arrangements as far asthey went. But in her opinion they did not go far enough. She offered nocriticism, because she intended to see to that side of things herself. Briefly,while Jimmy and Bill were devoting themselves to the inside of the Abbey,Bundle intended to devote her attentions to the outside.
Her own meek acquiescence in the tame r?le assigned to her gave heran infinity of pleasure, though she wondered scornfully how either of thetwo men could be so easily deceived. Bill, of course, had never been fam-ous for scintillating brain power. On the other hand, he knew, or shouldknow, his Bundle. And she considered that Jimmy Thesiger, though onlyslightly acquainted with her, ought to have known better than to imaginethat she could be so easily and summarily disposed of.
Once in the privacy of her own room, Bundle set rapidly to work. Firstshe discarded her evening dress and the negligible trifle which she worebeneath it, and started again, so to speak, from the foundations. Bundlehad not brought her maid with her, and she had packed herself. Other-wise, the puzzled Frenchwoman might have wondered why her lady tooka pair of riding breeches and no further equine equipment.
Arrayed in riding breeches, rubber- soled shoes, and a dark- colouredpullover, Bundle was ready for the fray. She glanced at the time. As yet, itwas only half past twelve. Too early by far. Whatever was going to happenwould not happen for some time yet. The occupants of the house must allbe given time to get off to sleep. Half past one was the time fixed byBundle for the start of operations.
She switched off her light and sat down by the window to wait. Punctu-ally at the appointed moment, she rose, pushed up the sash and swung herleg over the sill. The night was a fine one, cold and still. There was star-light but no moon.
She found the descent very easy. Bundle and her two sisters had runwild in the park at Chimneys as small children, and they could all climblike cats. Bundle arrived on a flower bed, rather breathless, but quite un-scathed.
She paused a minute to take stock of her plans. She knew that the roomsoccupied by the Air Minister and his secretary were in the west wing; thatwas the opposite side of the house from where Bundle was now standing.
A terrace ran along the south and west side of the house, ending abruptlyagainst a walled fruit garden.
Bundle stepped out of her flower bed and turned the corner of thehouse to where the terrace began on the south side. She crept very quietlyalong it, keeping close to the shadow of the house. But, as she reached thesecond corner, she got a shock, for a man was standing there, with theclear intention of barring her way.
The next instant she had recognized him.
“Superintendent Battle! You did give me a fright!”
“That’s what I’m here for,” said the Superintendent pleasantly.
Bundle looked at him. It struck her now, as so often before, how remark-ably little camouflage there was about him. He was large and solid and no-ticeable. He was, somehow, very English. But of one thing Bundle wasquite sure. Superintendent Battle was no fool.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked, still in a whisper.
“Just seeing,” said Battle, “that nobody’s about who shouldn’t be.”
“Oh!” said Bundle, rather taken aback.
“You, for instance, Lady Eileen. I don’t suppose you usually take a walkat this time of night.”
“Do you mean,” said Bundle slowly, “that you want me to go back?”
Superintendent Battle nodded approvingly.
“You’re very quick, Lady Eileen. That’s just what I do mean. Did you—er—come out of a door, or the window?”
“The window. It’s easy as anything climbing down this ivy.”
Supertintendent Battle looked up at it thoughtfully.
“Yes,” he said. “I should say it would be.”
“And you want me to go back?” said Bundle. “I’m rather sick about that.
I wanted to go round on to the west terrace.”
“Perhaps you won’t be the only one who’ll want to do that,” said Battle.
“Nobody could miss seeing you,” said Bundle rather spitefully.
The Superintendent seemed rather pleased than otherwise.
“I hope they won’t,” he said. “No unpleasantness. That’s my motto. And ifyou’ll excuse me, Lady Eileen, I think it’s time you were going back tobed.”
The firmness of his tone admitted no parley. Rather crestfallen, Bundleretraced her steps. She was halfway up the ivy when a sudden idea oc-curred to her, and she nearly relaxed her grip and fell.
Supposing Superintendent Battle suspected her.
There had been something—yes, surely there had been something in hismanner that vaguely suggested the idea. She couldn’t help laughing as shecrawled over the sill into her bedroom. Fancy the solid Superintendentsuspecting her!
Though she had so far obeyed Battle’s orders as to returning to herroom, Bundle had no intention of going to bed and sleeping. Nor did shethink that Battle had really intended her to do so. He was not a man to ex-pect impossibilities. And to remain quiescent when something daring andexciting might be going on was a sheer impossibility to Bundle.
She glanced at her watch. It was ten minutes to two. After a moment ortwo of irresolution, she cautiously opened her door. Not a sound.
Everything was still and peaceful. She stole cautiously along the passage.
Once she halted, thinking she heard a board creak somewhere, but thenconvinced that she was mistaken, she went on again. She was now in themain corridor, making her way to the west wing. She reached the angle ofintersection and peered cautiously round—then she stared in blank sur-prise.
The watcher’s post was empty. Jimmy Thesiger was not there.
Bundle stared in complete amazement. What had happened? Why hadJimmy left his post? What did it mean?
At that moment she heard a clock strike two.
She was still standing there, debating what to do next, when suddenlyher heart gave a leap and then seemed to stand still. The door handle ofTerence O’Rourke’s room was slowly turning.
Bundle watched, fascinated. But the door did not open. Instead the knobturned slowly to its original position. What did it mean?
Suddenly Bundle came to a resolution. Jimmy, for some unknownreason, had deserted his post. She must get hold of Bill.
Quickly and noiselessly, Bundle fled along the way she had come. Sheburst unceremoniously into Bill’s room.
“Bill, wake up! Oh, do wake up!”
It was an urgent whisper she sent forth, but there came no response toit.
“Bill,” breathed Bundle.
Impatiently she switched on the lights, and then stood dumbfounded.
The room was empty, and the bed had not even been slept in.
Where then was Bill?
Suddenly she caught her breath. This was not Bill’s room. The dainty neg-ligée thrown over a chair, the feminine knickknacks on the dressing table,the black velvet evening dress thrown carelessly over a chair—Of course,in her haste she had mistaken the doors. This was the Countess Radzky’sroom.
But where, oh where, was the countess?
And just as Bundle was asking herself this question, the silence of thenight was suddenly broken, and in no uncertain manner.
The clamour came from below. In an instant Bundle had sped out of theCountess’s room and downstairs. The sounds came from the library—a vi-olent crashing of chairs being overturned.
Bundle rattled vainly at the library door. It was locked. But she couldclearly hear the struggle that was going on within—the panting and scuff-ling, curses in many tones, the occasional crash as some light piece of fur-niture came into the line of battle.
And then, sinister and distinct, breaking the peace of the night for goodand all, two shots in rapid succession.
第十九章 邦德尔的冒险
第十九章 邦德尔的冒险
邦德尔•布伦特是个足智多谋的女孩，而且想象力丰富。她早就知道比尔或者吉米会反对她参加晚上可能有危险的行动。邦德尔不想把时间浪费在争辩之上，她已经作出了自己的计划和安排。就在吃晚餐之前，她从卧室窗户向外瞥了一眼，这一瞥令她很满意。她早就知道在双足飞龙教堂灰色的外墙上爬满了常春藤，而她所处房间外的常青藤尤其牢固。
对她这样的运动好手来说，攀爬不会有丝毫的障碍。
目前来看，对于比尔和吉米的安排，她还找不到任何瑕疵。不过她觉得他们这么做还不够。但她没有把这话说出来，而是打算亲自去处理。总的来说，既然吉米和比尔关注里面，那么邦德尔就把注意力放在外面。
她欣然接受了比尔和吉米指派给她的无足轻重的角色，但话虽这么说，她还是有些瞧不起这两个大男人，纳闷他们怎么这么容易被糊弄。比尔嘛，从来就没有人觉得他脑子特别聪明，但他至少了解邦德尔的为人，或者说应该了解。而吉米•塞西杰虽然跟她不是很熟，但也不至于蠢到以为她这么容易就可以被打发。
一回到自己的房间，邦德尔便迅速开始行动。首先，她把晚礼服和其他一些服饰脱掉，然后，这么说吧，她又从胸衣开始穿起。邦德尔没有把自己的女仆带来，所以这身装扮完全得靠自己。要不然，那个不了解情况的法国女仆可能会奇怪，纳闷她为什么带了马裤却没有带别的骑马用的东西。
穿好马裤、胶底运动鞋和一件深色的套衫，邦德尔做好了应付不测的准备。她看了看时间，才十二点半，还太早。不管会发生什么事，也得再过一段时间，得等到所有的人都睡着才行。邦德尔把行动时间设定在一点半。
她关掉灯，在窗户旁坐下来耐心地等着。一点半一到，她便站起身来，推开窗子，一条腿跨过了窗台。这是一个不错的夜晚，空气凉凉的，四周一片寂静，有星光但没有月亮。
她很轻易就爬下来了。小时候邦德尔就喜欢和她的两个姐妹在烟囱别墅的花园里乱跑乱闹，攀爬起来都像猫儿一样灵巧。邦德尔来到一个花坛旁，稍微有点气喘吁吁，不过哪儿也没伤着。
她停下来思忖了一会儿。她知道航空部长和他的秘书住在西边，也就是邦德尔现在站的位置的对面。房子的南边和西边之间有一个露台，这个露台延伸到一个有围墙围着的果园边。
邦德尔悄悄地从花坛走出来，拐过墙角，到了南端那个露台起始的位置。她悄无声息地顺着露台往前走，身子隐藏在屋子投下的阴影里。但当她走到第二个拐角时，吓了一跳。她发现有个人正站在那里，显然想截住她的去路。
她立刻就认出了他。
“巴特尔警司！您把我吓坏了！”
“要的就是这个效果。”警司乐呵呵地说道。
邦德尔打量着他。和前几次一样，这一次她又吃惊地发现他几乎没有多少伪装。他身材魁梧壮实，很容易引起别人的注意。不知为什么，他英国人的味道十足，但有一点邦德尔十分肯定，那就是巴特尔警司绝对不是傻瓜。
“您为什么在这儿？”她压低了嗓音问道。
“只是来看看，”巴特尔答道，“是不是有不该来的人来。”
“噢！”邦德尔听了大吃一惊。
“比如说你，艾琳小姐。我想你大概不常在这个时候出来散步吧。”
“您的意思是，”邦德尔吞吞吐吐地说道，“要我回去？”
巴特尔警司肯定地点了点头。
“你很聪明，艾琳小姐。正是这个意思。你是……呃……从房门出来的，还是翻窗户出来的？”
“窗户。顺着那根常春藤爬下来不费什么事儿。”
巴特尔警司若有所思地抬头看了看那根常春藤。
“嗯，”他答道，“应该不难。”
“您要我回去？”邦德尔问道，“我可不想回去，我还想到西边的露台上走走。”
“也许这么想的人不只你一个。”巴特尔答道。
“您在这儿，没有人看不到的。”邦德尔有些怨恨地说道。
一听此话，警司反倒有点高兴。
“我希望他们不会看不到，”他答道，“免得不愉快。这是我的座右铭。对不起，艾琳小姐，我想你该回去睡觉了。”
他说得很坚定，没有一丝商量的余地。邦德尔怏怏地转身往回走。当她顺着常春藤爬到一半时，脑子里突然闪过一个念头，手一松差点儿摔了下去。
难道巴特尔警司在怀疑她？
好像是这么回事——没错，他那副样子有点儿像是针对自己。她继续往上爬，跨过窗台回到自己的房间，她不禁笑了起来。真想不到那个实心眼的警司竟然会怀疑她！
虽然邦德尔服从了巴特尔的命令回到自己的房间，但她根本就不想上床去睡觉。而且，她也不认为巴特尔真的希望她那么做。他可不是一个对不可能发生的事情空抱幻想的人。况且，在有可能发生紧张刺激的事情时，要邦德尔老老实实地待在一边袖手旁观，这完全办不到。
她瞥了一眼手表，差十分两点。她犹豫了一会儿，小心翼翼地打开房门。一点声音也没有，四周一片寂静。她蹑手蹑脚地沿着走廊往前走去。
她停了一下，好像听见某处的地板发出了咯吱声，但随后她确信是自己听错了，于是又接着往前走。此刻她来到了主走廊，打算转去西边。当她来到西边走廊和主走廊的接合处时，她小心地四下瞅了瞅，目瞪口呆。
监视哨位上空无一人。吉米•塞西杰不在那儿。
邦德尔一头雾水。出了什么事？为什么吉米擅离职守？这意味着什么？
就在这时，她听见一只钟敲了两下。
她仍然一动不动地站着，琢磨下一步该怎么办才好。这时她的心猛然一动，身子几乎要跳起来了。
特伦斯•奥罗克房间的门把手正在缓缓地转动着。
邦德尔目不转睛，看得入了神。但是房门并没有打开，相反，门把手又缓缓地转回到原来的位置。这意味着什么？
突然，邦德尔拿定了主意。
吉米为什么不在监视的位置？她必须找到比尔。
邦德尔迅速地沿原路返回，几乎没有发出声响。此时她也顾不上什么礼貌，一头闯进了比尔的房间。
“比尔，快醒醒！哎，快起来！”
她压低嗓音急切地喊道，但没有听到丝毫反应。
“比尔！”邦德尔低声叫道。
她不耐烦地打开了灯，一下子目瞪口呆。
房间里没人，里面的床也根本没有人睡过。
比尔到哪儿去了？
突然，她松了口气。这不是比尔的房间。椅子上搭着一件考究的长睡衣，梳妆台上摆放着女人用的一些小饰件，另一把椅子上胡乱地堆着一件黑色丝绒晚礼服——原来，匆忙之中她走错了门。这是拉兹基伯爵夫人的房间。
可是伯爵夫人又到哪儿去了？
就在邦德尔百思不得其解之时，夜晚的寂静突然被打破了。
下面传来一阵乱哄哄的声音。邦德尔立即从伯爵夫人的房间冲出来，直奔楼梯跑下去。声音是从藏书室传出来的——是打翻椅子发出的撞击声。
邦德尔咚咚地敲打着房门，不过没用。门被锁上了。但她能清楚地听见里面传来搏斗声——气喘吁吁的扭打声，粗野的咒骂声，偶尔还听见被顺手抄起当做武器的轻便家具发出的撞击声。
随后一连传来两声枪响，清脆、不祥的枪声彻底打破了夜晚的宁静。
Twenty LORAINE’S ADVENTURES
Twenty LORAINE’S ADVENTURES

Loraine Wade sat up in bed and switched on the light. It was exactly tenminutes to one. She had gone to bed early—at half past nine. She pos-sessed the useful art of being able to wake herself up at the required time,so she had been able to enjoy some hours of refreshing sleep.
Two dogs slept in the room with her, and one of these now raised hishead and looked at her inquiringly.
“Quiet, Lurcher,” said Loraine, and the big animal put his head downagain obediently, watching her from between his shaggy eyelashes.
It is true that Bundle had once doubted the meekness of Loraine Wade,but that brief moment of suspicion had passed. Loraine had seemed so en-tirely reasonable, so willing to be kept out of everything.
And yet, if you studied the girl’s face, you saw that there was strength ofpurpose in the small, resolute jaw and the lips that closed together sofirmly.
Loraine rose and dressed herself in a tweed coat and skirt. Into onepocket of the coat she dropped an electric torch. Then she opened thedrawer of her dressing table and took out a small ivory-handled pistol—al-most a toy in appearance. She had bought it the day before at Harrods andshe was very pleased with it.
She gave a final glance round the room to see if she had forgotten any-thing, and at that moment the big dog rose and came over to her, lookingup at her with pleading eyes and wagging its tail.
“No, Lurcher. Can’t go. Missus can’t take you. Got to stay here and be agood boy.”
She dropped a kiss on the dog’s head, made him lie down on his rugagain, and then slipped noiselessly out of the room, closing the door be-hind her.
She let herself out of the house by a side door and made her way roundto the garage, where her little two-seater car was in readiness. There wasa gentle slope, and she let the car run silently down it, not starting the en-gine till she was some way from the house. Then she glanced at the watchon her arm and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.
She left the car at a spot she had previously marked down. There was agap there in the fencing that she could easily get through. A few minuteslater, slightly muddy, Loraine stood inside the grounds of Wyvern Abbey.
As noiselessly as possible, she made her way towards the venerable ivy-coloured building. In the distance a stable clock chimed two.
Loraine’s heart beat faster as she drew near to the terrace. There was noone about—no sign of life anywhere. Everything seemed peaceful and un-disturbed. She reached the terrace and stood there, looking about her.
Suddenly, without the least warning, something from above fell with aflop almost at her feet. Loraine stooped to pick it up. It was a brown paperpacket, loosely wrapped. Holding it, Loraine looked up.
There was an open window just above her head, and even as she lookeda leg swung over it and a man began to climb down the ivy.
Loraine waited no more. She took to her heels and ran, still clasping thebrown paper packet.
Behind her, the noise of a struggle suddenly broke out. A hoarse voice:
“Lemme go”; another that she knew well: “Not if I know it—ah, you would,would you?”
Still Loraine ran—blindly, as though panic-stricken—right round thecorner of the terrace—and slap into the arms of a large, solidly built man.
“There, there,” said Superintendent Battle kindly.
Loraine was struggling to speak.
“Oh, quick!—oh, quick! They’re killing each other. Oh, do be quick!”
There was a sharp crack of a revolver shot—and then another.
Superintendent Battle started to run. Loraine followed. Back round thecorner of the terrace and along to the library window. The window wasopen.
Battle stooped and switched on an electric torch. Loraine was close be-hind him, peering over his shoulder. She gave a little sobbing gasp.
On the threshold of the window lay Jimmy Thesiger in what looked likea pool of blood. His right arm lay dangling in a curious position.
Loraine gave a sharp cry.
“He’s dead,” she wailed. “Oh, Jimmy—Jimmy—he’s dead!”
“Now, now,” said Superintendent Battle soothingly. “Don’t you take onso. The young gentleman isn’t dead, I’ll be bound. See if you can find thelights and turn them on.”
Loraine obeyed. She stumbled across the room, found the switch by thedoor and pressed it down. The room was flooded with light. Superintend-ent Battle uttered a sigh of relief.
“It’s all right—he’s only shot in the right arm. He’s fainted through lossof blood. Come and give me a hand with him.”
There was a pounding on the library door. Voices were heard, asking,expostulating, demanding.
Loraine looked doubtfully at it.
“Shall I—?”
“No hurry,” said Battle. “We’ll let them in presently. You come and giveme a hand.”
Loraine came obediently. The Superintendent had produced a large,clean pocket handkerchief and was neatly bandaging the wounded man’sarm. Loraine helped him.
“He’ll be all right,” said the Superintendent. “Don’t you worry. As manylives as cats, these young fellows. It wasn’t the loss of blood knocked himout either. He must have caught his head a crack on the floor as he fell.”
Outside, the knocking on the door had become tremendous. The voice ofGeorge Lomax, furiously upraised, came loud and distinct:
“Who is in there? Open the door at once.”
Superintendent Battle sighed.
“I suppose we shall have to,” he said. “A pity.”
His eyes darted round, taking in the scene. An automatic lay by Jimmy’sside. The Superintendent picked it up gingerly, holding it very delicately,and examined it. He grunted and laid it on the table. Then he steppedacross and unlocked the door.
Several people fell into the room. Nearly everybody said something atthe same minute. George Lomax, spluttering with obdurate words whichrefused to come with sufficient fluency, exclaimed:
“The—the—the meaning of this? Ah! It’s you, Superintendent; what’shappened? I say—what has—happened?”
Bill Eversleigh said; “My God! Old Jimmy!” and stared at the limp figureon the ground.
Lady Coote, clad in a resplendent purple dressing gown, cried out: “Thepoor boy!” and swept past Superintendent Battle to bend over the pros-trate Jimmy in a motherly fashion.
Bundle said: “Loraine!”
Herr Eberhard said: “Gott im Himmel!” and other words of that nature.
Sir Stanley Digby said: “My God, what’s all this?”
A housemaid said: “Look at the blood,” and screamed with pleasurableexcitement.
A footman said: “Lor!”
The butler said, with a good deal more bravery in his manner than hadbeen noticeable a few minutes earlier: “Now then, this won’t do!” andwaved away under servants.
The efficient Mr. Rupert Bateman said to George: “Shall we get rid ofsome of these people, sir?”
Then they all took fresh breath.
“Incredible!” said George Lomax. “Battle, what has happened?”
Battle gave him a look, and George’s discreet habits assumed their usualway.
“Now then,” he said, moving to the door, “everyone go back to bed,please. There’s been a—er—”
“A little accident,” said Superintendent Battle easily.
“A—er—an accident. I shall be much obliged if everyone will go back tobed.”
Everyone was clearly reluctant to do so.
“Lady Coote—please—”
“The poor boy,” said Lady Coote in a motherly fashion.
She rose from a kneeling position with great reluctance. And as she didso, Jimmy stirred and sat up.
“Hallo!” he said thickly. “What’s the matter?”
He looked round him vacantly for a minute or two and then intelligencereturned to his eye.
“Have you got him? he demanded eagerly.
“Got who?”
“The man. Climbed down the ivy. I was by the window there. Grabbedhim and we had no end of a set-to—”
“One of those nasty, murderous cat burglars,” said Lady Coote. “Poorboy.”
Jimmy was looking round him.
“I say—I’m afraid we—er—have made rather a mess of things. Fellowwas as strong as an ox and we went fairly waltzing round.”
The condition of the room was clear proof of this statement. Everythinglight and breakable within a range of twelve feet that could be broken hadbeen broken.
“And what happened then?”
But Jimmy was looking round for something.
“Where’s Leopold? The pride of the bluenosed automatics?”
Battle indicated the pistol on the table.
“Is this yours, Mr. Thesiger?”
“That’s right. That’s little Leopold. How many shots have been fired?”
“One shot.”
Jimmy looked chagrined.
“I’m disappointed in Leopold,” he murmured. “I can’t have pressed thebutton properly, or he’d have gone on shooting.”
“Who shot first?”
“I did, I’m afraid,” said Jimmy. “You see, the man twisted himself out ofmy grasp suddenly. I saw him making for the window and I closed my fin-ger down on Leopold and let him have it. He turned in the window andfired at me and—well, I suppose after that I took the count.”
He rubbed his head rather ruefully.
But Sir Stanley Digby was suddenly alert.
“Climbing down the ivy, you said? My God, Lomax, you don’t thinkthey’ve got away with it?”
He rushed from the room. For some curious reason nobody spoke dur-ing his absence. In a few minutes Sir Stanley returned. His round, chubbyface was white as death.
“My God, Battle,” he said, “they’ve got it. O’Rourke’s fast asleep —drugged, I think. I can’t wake him. And the papers have vanished.”
第二十章 洛兰的冒险
第二十章 洛兰的冒险
洛兰•韦德从床上坐起来打开了灯，此时正好差十分一点。九点半她就早早上床睡了。
幸亏她有一项很有用的本事，能够想什么时候醒来就一定会醒来，所以她能够尽情地享受几个小时的好觉。
还有两条狗跟她一起睡在房间里，此时其中一条抬起头来，眼里露出探询的神情。
“安静，勒切尔。”听洛兰这么一说，那条大狗就乖乖地垂下头来，眯起双眼看着她。
邦德尔确实曾经怀疑过洛兰•韦德的顺从，但那短暂的怀疑很快就过去了。洛兰表现得十分通情达理，情愿置身事外。
然而，如果你细细打量这个女孩子的脸，你就会发现她那小巧的下巴和紧闭的双唇流露出一种不达目的誓不罢休的坚强意志。
洛兰下了床，穿上一套花呢衣裙，然后把一只手电筒放进上衣的口袋里。接着，她拉开梳妆台的抽屉，拿出一把象牙手柄的小手枪——外表看上去就像是一把玩具手枪，是前一天她在哈罗斯买的。她很喜欢这把枪。
她最后扫视了一遍房间，看是不是忘记了什么。这时，那条大狗站起来朝她走来，摇着尾巴，以乞求的目光抬头看着她。
洛兰摇了摇头。
“不行，勒切尔。不能去，我不能带你去。你得待在这儿，乖！”
她俯身吻了吻大狗的脑袋，命令它躺回到地毯上，然后悄无声息地溜出房门，顺手又把门关上。
她从一个边门走到车库，跨进早已经准备好的那辆双座跑车。车库前是一个斜坡，她让汽车静静地滑下去，直到离房子有一段距离才发动引擎。然后她看了看手表，踩下了油门。
她把汽车停在一个早就观察好的隐蔽处。那一段的篱笆上有一个缺口，她很容易就可以钻进去。几分钟之后，身上沾了些泥巴的洛兰就已经站在双足飞龙教堂的庭院里。
她尽可能不声不响地朝那幢庄严的爬满常春藤的建筑走去。远处的报时钟传来两声响动。
接近露台时，洛兰的心跳得越来越快了。附近没有人，一片死寂，一切似乎很宁静。
她上了露台，站在那儿，四下看了看。
突然，冷不防有一样东西从天而降，扑通一声差点砸在了她的脚上。洛兰俯身把它捡起来，是一个棕色的纸包，包得很松。洛兰把它拿在手里，抬头向上看去。
在她的头顶上是一扇敞开的窗户，她看到有一条腿跨出窗台，然后一个人顺着常春藤往下爬。
洛兰没有迟疑，手里紧紧攥住那个棕色的纸包，拔腿就跑。
她的身后突然响起打斗声。一个粗哑的声音叫道：“放开我！”另一个声音她很熟悉：“先告诉我是怎么回事……嗯，你说还是不说？”
洛兰仍然一个劲地跑着，简直是惊慌失措地乱跑。刚跑到露台的拐角处，她就一头栽进了一个身材魁梧、体格强壮的男人的怀里。
“别怕，别怕。”巴特尔警司和蔼地说道。
洛兰挣扎着叫道：
“噢，快……噢，快！他们打起来了。噢，赶快！”
只听见一声尖厉的枪响——接着又是一声。
巴特尔警司抬腿便跑，洛兰紧跟其后。他们绕回露台的拐角，直奔藏书室窗外。窗户大开着。
巴特尔弯下腰，打开了手电筒。洛兰紧贴在他身后，抬眼从他的肩膀朝前望去，她发出了一声抽噎。
只见吉米•塞西杰倒在窗槛上，身子下好像是一摊血。他的右臂垂下来，姿势很奇怪。
洛兰尖叫了一声。
“他死了，”她哀号道，“噢，吉米……吉米……他死了！”
“好了，好了，”巴特尔警司安慰道，“别大哭小叫了。这个年轻人没死，我敢肯定。你去找找有没有开关，把灯打开。”
洛兰照办了。她跌跌撞撞地走到门边找到了开关，打开了灯，房间里顿时一片明亮。
巴特尔警司松了一口气。
“没事……只是右臂中抢，失血过多昏过去了。过来帮我一下。”
这时门外传来重重的敲门声，还夹杂着七嘴八舌的探问声、劝诫声和质问声。
洛兰看着房门，不知如何是好。
“我要不要……”
“别急，”巴特尔说道，“等下再让他们进来。你先过来帮我一下。”
洛兰顺从地走过来。警司掏出一块干净的大手帕，麻利地给吉米包扎手臂。洛兰在一旁帮忙。
“他不会有事的，”警司说道，“不用担心。这些年轻人命长着呢，就跟九命猫一样。也不是因为失血过多昏过去的，一定是摔倒时碰到了头。”
外面的敲门声越来越响。乔治•洛马克斯扯着嗓门，高声叫道：
“谁在里面？马上开门！”
巴特尔警司叹了口气。
“看来不开门是不行了，”他说道，“真遗憾。”
他飞快地四下扫了一眼，查看四周的情况。
吉米的身旁有一把自动手枪。警司小心翼翼地把它捡起来，仔细地检视了一番。他嘀咕了一句，把枪放在桌子上。接着他走到对面把门打开了。
一下子有好几个人拥进房间。大家几乎异口同声。气急败坏的乔治•洛马克斯结结巴巴地问道：
“这……这……这是怎么回事？啊！是你，警司。出了什么事？我说……出……出了什么事？”
比尔•埃弗斯利只说了一句：“天哪！吉米老弟！”然后瞪大了眼睛，无言地盯着瘫软在地的躯体。
身穿紫色华丽晨衣的库特夫人叫道：“可怜的孩子！”然后快步从巴特尔警司身旁走过去，像母亲般地俯身蹲下来，查看倒在地上的吉米。
邦德尔说了一句：“洛兰！”
赫尔•埃伯哈德先生用德语说道：“天哪！”然后又嘟囔了几句。
斯坦利•迪格比爵士叫道：“天哪，这是怎么回事？”
一个女仆说了一句：“看，那儿有血！”然后激动地尖叫起来。
一个听差叫道：“天哪！”
管家说道：“好了，别在这里凑热闹！”然后挥挥手把仆人们赶跑了，他的样子比几分钟之前要勇敢得多。
能干的鲁珀特•贝特曼先生对乔治说道：“要不要把这些人支走，先生？”
接着，所有的人都换了一种语气。
“真是不可思议！”乔治•洛马克斯说道，“巴特尔，究竟怎么回事？”
巴特尔看了他一眼，乔治这才恢复了往常的谨慎。
“好了，”他一边朝门口走去，一边说道，“大家都请回去休息吧。只是……呃……小意外。”巴特尔警司轻松地接了一句，“一点……呃……一点小意外。要是大家都回去休息，我将不胜感激。”
显然没有人愿意离开。
“库特夫人……请……”
“可怜的孩子。”库特夫人以慈母的口吻说道。
她很不情愿地站了起来。就在这时，吉米动了动，坐了起来。“哎呀！”他迷迷糊糊地咕哝道，“怎么啦？”
他茫然地四下看了一会儿，眼神不再呆滞了。
“抓到他了吗？”他急切地问道。
“抓到谁？”
“那个人，顺着常春藤爬下去的那个人。当时我在窗子那边揪住了他，然后就打起来……”
“可恶的飞贼，”库特夫人说道，“可怜的孩子。”
吉米环顾四周。
“哎呀……恐怕……呃……把这里搞得一团糟了。那家伙力大如牛，我们扭来扭去在房间里转了好几圈。”
他说的显然没错，房间里十二英尺范围内所有轻便、易碎的东西都被打碎了。
“后来呢？”
此时吉米只顾着四下巡视，像是在找东西。
“我的利奥波特呢？那把枪管烤蓝的自动手枪呢？”
巴特尔指了指桌上的手枪。
“是你的吗，塞西杰先生？”
“对。是我的利奥波特。开了几枪？”
“一枪。”
吉米显得很懊恼。
“利奥波特太让我失望了，”他咕哝道，“可能是我扣扳机扣得不对，照道理它应该连续发射。”
“谁先开的枪？”
“恐怕是我，”吉米答道，“当时那个家伙突然从我手里挣脱了，我见他想跳窗逃跑，于是就扣了扳机。他跨过窗户时转身也朝我开枪……唉，看来我还是输了。”
他遗憾地摸了摸脑袋。
斯坦利•迪格比爵士突然警觉了起来。
“他是爬常春藤逃走的？天哪，洛马克斯，他们该不会偷走了……”
他冲了出去。不知为什么，大家都没有开口说话。几分钟之后，斯坦利爵士回来了。
他胖嘟嘟的圆脸上一片惨白。
“我的天哪，巴特尔，”他说道，“被他们偷走了。奥罗克睡得死死的……多半被下了药。我叫不醒他。那些文件不见了。”
Twenty-one HE RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA
Twenty-one HE RECOVERY OF THE FORMULA

“Der liebe Gott!” said Herr Eberhard in a whisper.
His face had gone chalky white.
George turned a face of dignified reproach on Battle.
“Is this true, Battle? I left all arrangements in your hands.”
The rock- like quality of the Superintendent showed out well. Not amuscle of his face moved.
“The best of us are defeated sometimes, sir,” he said quietly.
“Then you mean-you really mean-that the document is gone?”
But to everyone’s surprise Superintendent Battle shook his head.
“No, no, Mr. Lomax, it’s not so bad as you think. Everything’s all right.
But you can’t lay the credit for it at my door. You’ve got to thank thisyoung lady.”
He indicated Loraine, who stared at him in surprise. Battle steppedacross to her and gently took the brown paper parcel which she was stillclutching mechanically.
“I think, Mr. Lomax,” he said, “that you will find what you want here.”
Sir Stanley Digby, quicker in action than George, snatched at the pack-age and tore it open, investigating its contents eagerly. A sigh of relief es-caped him and he mopped his brow. Herr Eberhard fell upon the child ofhis brain and clasped it to his heart, whilst a torrent of German burst fromhim.
Sir Stanley turned to Loraine, shaking her warmly by the hand.
“My dear young lady,” he said, “we are infinitely obliged to you, I amsure.”
“Yes, indeed,” said George. “Though I-er-”
He paused in some perplexity, staring at a young lady who was a totalstranger to him. Loraine looked appealingly at Jimmy, who came to therescue.
“We-this is Miss Wade.” said Jimmy. “Gerald Wade’s sister.”
“Indeed,” said George, shaking her warmly by the hand. “My dear MissWade, I must express my deep gratitude to you for what you have done. Imust confess that I do not quite see-”
He paused delicately and four of the persons present felt that explana-tions were going to be fraught with much difficulty. Superintendent Battlecame to the rescue.
“Perhaps we’d better not go into that just now, sir,” he suggested tact-fully.
The efficient Mr. Bateman created a further diversion.
“Wouldn’t it be wise for someone to see to O’Rourke? Don’t you think,sir, that a doctor had better be sent for?”
“Of course,” said George. “Of course. Most remiss of us not to havethought of it before.” He looked towards Bill. “Get Dr. Cartwright on thetelephone. Ask him to come. Just hint, if you can, that-er-discretionshould be observed.”
Bill went off on his errand.
“I will come up with you, Digby,” said George. “Something, possibly,could be done-measures should, perhaps, be taken-whilst awaiting thearrival of the doctor.”
He looked rather helplessly at Rupert Bateman. Efficiency always makesitself felt. It was Pongo who was really in charge of the situation.
“Shall I come up with you, sir?”
George accepted the offer with relief. Here, he felt, was someone onwhom he could lean. He experienced that sense of complete trust in Mr.
Bateman’s efficiency which came to all those who encountered that excel-lent young man.
The three men left the room together. Lady Coote, murmuring in deeprich tones: “The poor young fellow. Perhaps I could do something-” hur-ried after them.
“That’s a very motherly woman,” observed the Superintendent thought-fully. “A very motherly woman. I wonder-”
Three pairs of eyes looked at him inquiringly.
“I was wondering,” said Superintendent Battle slowly, “where Sir Os-wald Coote may be.”
“Oh!” gasped Loraine. “Do you think he’s been murdered?”
Battle shook his head at her reproachfully.
“No need for anything so melodramatic,” he said. “No-I rather think-”
He paused, his head on one side, listening-one large hand raised to en-join silence.
In another minute they all heard what his sharper ears had been thefirst to notice. Footsteps coming along the terrace outside. They rang outclearly with no kind of subterfuge about them. In another minute the win-dow was blocked by a bulky figure which stood there regarding them andwho conveyed, in an odd way, a sense of dominating the situation.
Sir Oswald, for it was he, looked slowly from one face to another. Hiskeen eyes took in the details of the situation. Jimmy, with his roughlybandaged arm; Bundle, in her somewhat anomalous attire; Loraine, a per-fect stranger to him. His eyes came last to Superintendent Battle. He spokesharply and crisply.
“What’s been happening here, officer?”
“Attempted robbery, sir.”
“Attempted-eh?”
“Thanks to this young lady, Miss Wade, the thieves failed to get awaywith it.”
“Ah!” he said again, his scrutiny ended. “And now, officer, what aboutthis?”
He held out a small Mauser pistol which he carried delicately by thebutt.
“Where did you find that, Sir Oswald?”
“On the lawn outside. I presume it must have been thrown down by oneof the thieves as he took to his heels. I’ve held it carefully, as I thought youmight wish to examine it for fingerprints.”
“You think of everything, Sir Oswald,” said Battle.
He took the pistol from the other, handling it with equal care, and laid itdown on the table beside Jimmy’s Colt.
“And now, if you please,” said Sir Oswald, “I should like to hear exactlywhat occurred.”
Superintendent Battle gave a brief résumé of the events of the night. SirOswald frowned thoughtfully.
“I understand,” he said sharply. “After wounding and disabling Mr.
Thesiger, the man took to his heels and ran, throwing away the pistol ashe did so. What I cannot understand is why no one pursued him.”
“It wasn’t till we heard Mr. Thesiger’s story that we knew there was any-one to pursue,” remarked Superintendent Battle dryly.
“You didn’t-er-catch sight of him making off as you turned the cornerof the terrace?”
“No, I missed him by just about forty seconds, I should say. There’s nomoon and he’d be invisible as soon as he’d left the terrace. He must haveleapt for it as soon as he’d fired the shot.”
“H’m,” said Sir Oswald. “I still think that a search should have been or-ganized. Someone else should have been posted-”
“There are three of my men in the grounds,” said the Superintendentquietly.
“Oh!” Sir Oswald seemed rather taken aback.
“They were told to hold and detain anyone attempting to leave thegrounds.”
“And yet-they haven’t done so?”
“And yet they haven’t done so,” agreed Battle gravely.
Sir Oswald looked at him as though something in the words puzzledhim. He said sharply:
“Are you telling me all that you know, Superintendent Battle?”
“All that I know-yes, Sir Oswald. What I think is a different matter.
Maybe I think some rather curious things-but until thinking’s got yousomewhere it’s no use talking about it.”
“And yet,” said Sir Oswald slowly, “I should like to know what you think,Superintendent Battle.”
“For one thing, sir, I think there’s a lot too much ivy about this place-excuse me, sir, you’ve got a bit on your coat-yes, a great deal too muchivy. It complicates things.”
Sir Oswald stared at him, but any reply he might have contemplatedmaking was arrested by the entrance of Rupert Bateman.
“Oh, there you are, Sir Oswald. I’m so glad. Lady Coote has just dis-covered that you were missing-and she has been insisting upon it thatyou had been murdered by the thieves. I really, think, Sir Oswald, that youhad better come to her at once. She is terribly upset.”
“Maria is an incredibly foolish woman,” said Sir Oswald. “Why should Ibe murdered? I’ll come with you, Bateman.”
He left the room with his secretary.
“That’s a very efficient young man,” said Battle, looking after them.
“What’s his name-Bateman?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Bateman - Rupert,” he said. “Commonly known as Pongo. I was atschool with him.”
“Were you? Now, that’s interesting, Mr. Thesiger. What was your opin-ion of him in those days?”
“Oh, he was always the same sort of ass.”
“I shouldn’t have thought,” said Battle mildly, “that he was an ass.”
“Oh, you know what I mean. Of course he wasn’t really an ass. Tons ofbrains and always swotting at things. But deadly serious. No sense of hu-mour.”
“Ah!” said Superintendent Battle. “That’s a pity. Gentlemen who have nosense of humour get to taking themselves too seriously-and that leads tomischief.”
“I can’t imagine Pongo getting into mischief,” said Jimmy. “He’s done ex-tremely well for himself so far-dug himself in with old Coote and lookslike being a permanency in the job.”
“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle.
“Yes, Lady Eileen?”
“Don’t you think it very odd that Sir Oswald didn’t say what he was do-ing wandering about in the garden in the middle of the night?”
“Ah!” said Battle. “Sir Oswald’s a great man-and a great man alwaysknows better than to explain unless an explanation is demanded. To rushinto explanations and excuses is always a sign of weakness. Sir Oswaldknows that as well as I do. He’s not going to come in explaining and apolo-gizing-not he. He just stalks in and hauls me over the coals. He’s a bigman, Sir Oswald.”
Such a warm admiration sounded in the Superintendent’s tones thatBundle pursued the subject no further.
“And now,” said Superintendent Battle, looking round with a slighttwinkle in his eye, “now that we’re together and friendly like-I shouldlike to hear just how Miss Wade happened to arrive on the scene so pat.”
“She ought to be ashamed of herself,” said Jimmy. “Hood-winking us allas she did.”
“Why should I be kept out of it all?” cried Loraine passionately. “I nevermeant to be-no, not the very first day in your rooms when you both ex-plained how the best thing for me to do was to stay quietly at home andkeep out of danger. I didn’t say anything, but I made up my mind then.”
“I half expected it,” said Bundle. “You were so surprisingly meek aboutit. I might have known you were up to something.”
“I thought you were remarkably sensible,” said Jimmy Thesiger.
“You would, Jimmy dear,” said Loraine. “It was easy enough to deceiveyou.”
“Thank you for these kind words,” said Jimmy. “Go on, and don’t mindme.”
“When you rang up and said there might be danger, I was more determ-ined than ever,” went on Loraine. “I went to Harrods and bought a pistol.
Here it is.”
She produced the dainty weapon and Superintendent Battle took it fromher and examined it.
“Quite a deadly little toy, Miss Wade,” he said. “Have you had much-er-practice with it?”
“None at all,” said Loraine. “But I thought if I took it with me-well, thatit would give me a comforting feeling.”
“Quite so,” said Battle gravely.
“My idea was to come over here and see what was going on. I left my carin the road and climbed through the hedge and came up to the terrace. Iwas just looking about me when-plop-something fell right at my feet. Ipicked it up and then looked to see where it could have come from. Andthen I saw the man climbing down the ivy and I ran.”
“Just so,” said Battle. “Now, Miss Wade, can you describe the man atall?”
The girl shook her head.
“It was too dark to see much. I think he was a big man-but that’s aboutall.”
“And now you, Mr. Thesiger.” Battle turned to him. “You struggled withthe man-can you tell me anything about him?”
“He was a pretty hefty individual-that’s all I can say. He gave a fewhoarse whispers-that’s when I had him by the throat. He said ‘Lemme go,guvnor,’ something like that.”
“An uneducated man, then?”
“Yes, I suppose he was. He spoke like one.”
“I still don’t quite understand about the packet,” said Loraine. “Whyshould he throw it down as he did? Was it because it hampered him climb-ing?”
“No,” said Battle. “I’ve got an entirely different theory about that. Thatpacket, Miss Wade, was deliberately thrown down to you-or so I believe.”
“To me?”
“Shall we say-to the person the thief thought you were.”
“This is getting very involved,” said Jimmy.
“Mr. Thesiger, when you came into this room, did you switch on thelight at all?”
“Yes.”
“And there was no one in the room?”
“No one at all.”
“But previously you thought you heard someone moving about downhere?”
“Yes.”
“And then, after trying the window, you switched off the light again andlocked the door?”
Jimmy nodded.
Superintendent Battle looked slowly around him. His glance was arres-ted by a big screen of Spanish leather which stood near one of the book-cases.
Brusquely he strode across the room and looked behind it.
He uttered a sharp ejaculation, which brought the three young peoplequickly to his side.
Huddled on the foor, in a dead faint, lay the Countess Radzky.
第二十一章 配方失而复得
第二十一章 配方失而复得
“我的天啊！”赫尔•埃伯哈德先生用德语低声叫道。他已经面如土色。
乔治转向巴特尔，一脸责备。
“是真的吗，巴特尔？我可是让你全权负责的呀。”
警司那稳如泰山的品格此时表露无遗，他脸上的肌肉纹丝不动。
“好马也有失蹄的时候，先生。”他平静地说道。
“那么你是说……你的意思是……文件真的丢了？”
但是，出乎所有人的意料，巴特尔摇了摇头。
“不，不，洛马克斯先生，没你想的那么糟。一切都很好。不过这可不是我的功劳，你得谢谢这位小姐。”
他指了指洛兰，洛兰则吃惊地注视着他。巴特尔朝她走去，轻轻取下她仍然死死攥在手里的那个棕色纸包。
“洛马克斯先生，我想，”他说道，“这里面有你想要的东西。”
斯坦利•迪格比爵士的手脚比乔治还快，他一把抓过纸包撕开，急不可待地查看。之后，他如释重负地松了口气，双眉也舒展开来。埃伯哈德猛地一把夺过来，把他冥思苦想弄出来的东西紧紧地贴在胸口，嘴里吐出一串德语。
迪格比爵士转向洛兰，热情地握住了她的手。
“亲爱的小姐，”他说道，“谢谢你，太谢谢你了。”
“是，衷心感谢，”乔治开口说道，“不过我……呃……”
他有些迷惑地顿了顿，瞪大眼睛看着这位完全陌生的年轻小姐。洛兰求助地看着吉米，于是吉米走上前来作了介绍。
“哦……这位是韦德小组，”吉米说道，“格里•韦德的妹妹。”
“真的，”乔治热情地和她握手，“亲爱的韦德小姐，我必须向你表示衷心的感激。只是抱歉，我不太明白……”
他有意顿了顿，但在场的四个人觉得要解释清楚不是那么容易。幸亏巴特尔警司解了围。
“也许等会儿再谈比较好，先生。”他机智地提议道。
效率向来很高的贝特曼先生更是岔开了话题。
“是不是要派个人去照顾一下奥罗克？先生，您不觉得要请个医生来吗？”
“当然要请，”乔治赶忙答道，“当然要请。真是太粗心了，怎么没早点想到呢？”他看了看比尔。“快去给卡特赖特医生打电话，请他过来。另外暗示一下，如果可能的话……呃……叫他不要声张。”
比尔依言离开了房间。
“我跟你一起上楼去，迪格比，”乔治说道，“也许能做些什么……也许该采取一些措施……同时等待医生过来。”
他有些茫然地看着鲁珀特•贝特曼。是金子总有发光的时候，此刻真正驾驭局面的正是黑猩猩。
“要我跟您一块儿上去吗，先生？”
乔治接受了他的提议，同时大大地松了口气。他觉得这是一个他可以信赖的人。他体验到了对贝特曼先生办事能力完全信赖的感觉，凡是接触过这位优秀年轻人的人都会有这种感觉。
于是，三个人一同走出房间。库特夫人充满感情地小声咕哝了一句：“可怜的孩子，也许我可以做点什么……”然后也匆匆地跟了出去。
“真是个慈母心肠的女人，”警司若有所思地说道，“很有母爱。我在想……”
其他三个人好奇地看着他。
“我在想，”巴特尔警司慢条斯理地说道，“奥斯瓦德•库特爵士会在哪里。”
“噢！”洛兰倒吸了一口凉气，“您觉得他被人谋害了？”
巴特尔不无责备地冲她摇了摇头。
“没那么夸张，”他说道，“不……我倒觉得……”
他话说了半截又停住了，歪了歪脑袋，竖起耳朵倾听，同时举起大手示意大家安静。
旋即，大家都听到了——外面露台上传来的由远及近的脚步声。脚步声很清晰，走路的人丝毫没有怕人听见的意思。紧接着，窗口出现了一个块头很大的身影，那个大个子停住了脚步，站在那儿凝视着他们，给人一种奇怪的居高临下的感觉。
此人正是奥斯瓦德爵士，他的目光慢慢地从一个人移向另一个人，锐利的眼神不放过一丝细节。吉米的手臂做了简单的包扎；邦德尔的装扮一反常态；还有一个不认识的洛兰。他的目光最后落在了巴特尔的身上。他声音清脆响亮地说道：
“出什么事了，警官？”
“盗窃未遂，先生。”
“未遂……啊？”
“多亏了这位年轻的小姐，韦德小姐，小偷才没把它偷走。”
“啊！”他又叫了一句，审视才告结束。
“那么，警官，这个该怎么解释？”
他亮出一把小巧的毛瑟手枪，一只手小心翼翼地捏住了枪柄。
“您是在哪儿找到的，奥斯瓦德爵士？”
“在外面的草坪上。肯定是某个小偷在逃跑时掉下的。我很小心地把它拿来了，希望你检查一下上面有没有指纹。”
“您想得真周到，奥斯瓦德爵士。”巴特尔说道。
他同样很小心地接过那把手枪，然后把它放在桌子上——就放在吉米的柯尔特式自动手枪旁边。
“好了，如果你愿意的话，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“我想听听事情的经过。”
巴特尔警司简单叙述了前后经过。奥斯瓦德爵士若有所思地皱起了眉头。
“我明白了，”他厉声说道，“打伤塞西杰先生之后，那个人拔腿就跑，跑的时候又把枪扔掉。我不明白的是为什么没有人去追。”
“我们是听了塞西杰先生的讲述之后才知道有人逃跑。”巴特尔警司冷冷地说道。
“你没有……呃……在绕过露台拐角时……没有瞧见有人逃跑？”
“没有，我大概慢了四十秒钟。今天晚上没有月亮，他一离开露台就看不见了。他肯定是一开完枪就跳下去逃走了。”
“嗯，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“我还是觉得应该安排人手去搜查一下。应该有人站岗……”
“庭院里有我三个手下。”警司平静地说道。
“噢！”奥斯瓦德爵士似乎有点吃惊。
“我吩咐他们一定要逮住任何想逃离庭院的人。”
“可是……他们还没有逮到？”
“还没有逮到。”巴特尔面色凝重地表示肯定。
奥斯瓦德爵士看着他，好像觉得巴特尔话里有话。他厉声说道：
“你没有对我有所隐瞒吧，巴特尔警司？”
“我说的全是实情，奥斯瓦德爵士。不过我心里想的是另外一码事。我有一些古怪的想法……不过在没有证实之前，说出来也没有用。”
“可是，”奥斯瓦德爵士慢条斯理地说道，“我很想知道你是怎么想的，巴特尔警司。”
“首先，先生，这儿的常春藤太多了……对不起，先生，您的外套上就有一些……没错，实在是太多了。这让事情变得复杂。”
奥斯瓦德爵士瞪着他，正琢磨着该怎么回答，这时贝特曼先生进来了。
“噢，您在这儿呀，奥斯瓦德爵士。见到您真高兴。库特夫人刚刚才发现您不见了……而且她坚持说您肯定是被飞贼杀害了。奥斯瓦德爵士，我真的认为您最好马上去见见她。
她都快急死了。”
“玛丽亚真是个不可思议的蠢女人，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“我怎么会被谋害！带我去，贝特曼。”
他跟着他的秘书离开了房间。
“真是个非常能干的小伙子，”巴特尔看着他们的背影说道，“他叫什么……贝特曼？”
吉米点了点头。
“鲁珀特•贝特曼，”他说道，“大家都叫他黑猩猩。我以前和他是同学。”
“是吗？有意思，塞西杰先生。以前你怎么看他？”
“哦，以前他就是一头蠢驴。”
“我倒真没想到以前他是一头蠢驴。”巴特尔客气地说道。
“噢，您明白我的意思。他当然并不蠢，脑子好得很呢，而且读书用功刻苦。但就是认真得要命，一点幽默感都没有。”
“啊！”巴特尔警司答道，“真遗憾，缺乏幽默感的人往往太把自己当回事……而且会埋下祸根。”
“很难想象黑猩猩会闯祸，”吉米说道，“目前为止他一直混得相当好……深得老库特的器重，看来会一辈子当他的秘书。”
“巴特尔警司！”邦德尔唤道。
“什么事，艾琳小姐？”
“奥斯瓦德爵士没有说起过深更半夜他为什么在花园里闲逛，您不觉得奇怪吗？”
“哦！”巴特尔答道，“他是个大人物……大人物总是很精明，是不会主动解释的——动不动就解释或找借口向来就是软弱的表现。奥斯瓦德爵士明白，我也明白。他怎么会过来解释和道歉呢——那就不是他了。他只会大摇大摆地走进来责备我一顿。奥斯瓦德爵士，他是个大人物。”
警司这番话充满了钦佩之情，于是邦德尔也就不再往下说了。
“好了，”巴特尔警司目光炯炯地四下扫了一眼，“既然大家都是朋友……我想请韦德小姐解释一下，为什么不早不晚恰恰在那个时候出现在现场。”
“她应该羞愧才对，”吉米说，“把我们都耍了。”
“为什么我就该袖手旁观？”洛兰激动地叫道，“从一开始我就不想……那天在你家，你们俩要我最好是乖乖地待在家里远离危险，当时我虽然什么都没说，但已经打定了主意。”
“我当时就半信半疑，”邦德尔说道，“你顺从得出奇。我早该知道你下定决心了。”
“我还以为你很讲道理。”吉米•塞西杰说。
“你竟会这么想，亲爱的吉米，”洛兰说道，“要骗你真是太容易了。”
“谢谢你抬举，”吉米说道，“接着说吧，别介意我。”
“当你打电话跟我说可能有危险时，我就越发下定了决心，”洛兰继续说道，“我去哈罗斯买了一把手枪。瞧。”
她掏出了那把精致的武器，巴特尔警司从她手里接过来，仔细地看了看。
“真是一个小得要命的玩意儿，韦德小姐，”他说道，“你拿它……呃……练过枪法吗？”
“一次也没有，”洛兰答道。“不过要是带在身上……嗯，它会给我安全感。”
“说得没错。”巴特尔一本正经地说道。
“我是想到这里来看看会发生什么事。我把车停在路边，翻过篱笆，爬上露台，正四下打量……扑通一声……有一样东西正好落在我的脚边，我就把它捡起来，然后瞧了瞧，想搞清楚是从什么地方掉下来的。然后，我就看到那个人顺着常春藤爬下来，于是我赶快跑开了。”
“正是这样，”巴特尔说，“对了，韦德小姐，你能不能描述一下那个人的长相？”
女孩摇了摇头。
“太暗了，看不清楚。我想他是个大个子……其他就不好说了。”
“现在轮到你了，塞西杰先生。”巴特尔转向他，“你跟他扭打过……能跟我说说吗？”
“他是个力大如牛的家伙……我只说得上这些。我掐住他的喉咙时，他还哑着嗓子吼了几声，好像是‘放开我，老爷’之类的话。”
“这么说是个没怎么读过书的人？”
“是的，我猜是吧。他说起话来像是没什么文化。”
“那个纸包我还是不太明白，”洛兰插嘴问道，“他干嘛要扔下来？是因为拿着它不方便往下爬吗？”
“不是，”巴特尔答道，“我的看法完全不同。韦德小姐，那个纸包是故意扔给你的……我相信是这样的。”
“给我？”
“应该说……扔给接应的人。”
“事情越搞越大了啊。”吉米说道。
“塞西杰先生，你进来时有没有开过灯？”“开过。”
“里面是不是没人？”
“一个人也没有。”
“但是之前你听见了有人在这里走动？”
“没错。”
“然后，你在查看好窗户之后，又把灯关掉，再把门锁上？”
吉米点了点头。
巴特尔警司缓缓地环视四周，他的目光停在了书架旁的一扇西班牙皮革屏风之上。
他快步走上前去，朝屏风后瞧了瞧。
突然，他大叫了一声，三个年轻人赶忙围拢过来。
只见拉兹基伯爵夫人不省人事地蜷缩在地上。
Twenty-two HE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY
Twenty-two HE COUNTESS RADZKY’S STORY

The Countess’s return to consciousness was very different from that ofJimmy Thesiger. It was more prolonged and infinitely more artistic.
Artistic was Bundle’s word. She had been zealous in her ministrations—largely consisting of the application of cold water—and the Countess hadinstantly responded, passing a white, bewildered hand across her browand murmuring faintly.
It was at this point that Bill, at last relieved from his duties with tele-phone and doctors, had come bustling into the room and had instantlyproceeded to make (in Bundle’s opinion) a most regrettable idiot of him-self.
He had hung over the Countess with a concerned and anxious face andhad addressed a series of singularly idiotic remarks to her:
“I say, Countess. It’s all right. It’s really all right. Don’t try to talk. It’s badfor you. Just lie still. You’ll be all right in a minute. It’ll all come back toyou. Don’t say anything till you’re quite all right. Take your time. Just liestill and close your eyes. You’ll remember everything in a minute. Haveanother sip of water. Have some brandy. That’s the stuff. Don’t you think,Bundle, that some brandy .?.?. ?”
“For God’s sake, Bill, leave her alone,” said Bundle crossly. “She’ll be allright.”
And with an expert hand she flipped a good deal of cold water on to theexquisite makeup of the Countess’s face.
The Countess flinched and sat up. She looked considerably more wideawake.
“Ah!” she murmured. “I am here. Yes, I am here.”
“Take you time,” said Bill. “Don’t talk till you feel quite all right again.”
The Countess drew the folds of a very transparent negligée closeraround her.
“It is coming back to me,” she murmured. “Yes, it is coming back.”
She looked at the little crowd grouped around her. Perhaps somethingin the attentive faces struck her as unsympathetic. In any case she smileddeliberately up at the one face which clearly displayed a very oppositeemotion.
“Ah, my big Englishman,” she said very softly, “do not distress yourself.
All is well with me.”
“Oh! I say, but are you sure?” demanded Bill anxiously.
“Quite sure.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “We Hungarians, we havenerves of steel.”
A look of intense relief passed over Bill’s face. A fatuous look settleddown there instead—a look which made Bundle earnestly long to kickhim.
“Have some water,” she said coldly.
The Countess refused water. Jimmy, kindlier to beauty in distress, sug-gested a cocktail. The Countess reacted favourably to this suggestion.
When she had swallowed it, she looked round once more, this time with alivelier eye.
“Tell me, what has happened?” she demanded briskly.
“We were hoping you might be able to tell us that,” said SuperintendentBattle.
The Countess looked at him sharply. She seemed to become aware of thebig, quiet man for the first time.
“I went to your room,” said Bundle. “The bed hadn’t been slept in andyou weren’t there.”
She paused—looking accusingly at the Countess. The latter closed hereyes and nodded her head slowly.
“Yes, yes, I remember it all now. Oh, it was horrible!” She shuddered.
“Do you want me to tell you?”
Superintendent Battle said, “If you please” at the same moment that Billsaid, “Not if you don’t feel up to it.”
The Countess looked from one to the other, but the quiet, masterful eyeof Superintendent Battle won the game.
“I could not sleep,” began the Countess. “The house—it oppressed me. Iwas all, as you say, on wires, the cat on the hot bricks. I knew that in thestate I was in it was useless to think of going to bed. I walked about myroom. I read. But the books placed there did not interest me greatly. Ithought I would come down and find something more absorbing.”
“Very natural,” said Bill.
“Very often done, I believe,” said Battle.
“So as soon as the idea occurred to me, I left my room and came down.
The house was very still—”
“Excuse me,” interrupted the Superintendent, “but can you give me anidea of the time when this occurred?”
“I never know the time,” said the Countess superbly, and swept on withher story.
“The house was very quiet. One could even hear the little mouse run, ifthere had been one. I come down the stairs—very quietly—”
“Very quietly?”
“Naturally I do not want to disturb the household,” said the Countess re-proachfully. “I come in here. I go into this corner and I search the shelvesfor a suitable book.”
“Having of course switched on the light?”
“No, I did not switch on the light. I had, you see, my little electric torchwith me. With that, I scanned the shelves.”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent.
“Suddenly,” continued the Countess dramatically, “I hear something. Astealthy sound. A muffled footstep. I switch out my torch and listen. Thefootsteps draw nearer—stealthy, horrible footsteps. I shrink behind thescreen. In another minute the door opens and the light is switched on. Theman—the burglar is in the room.”
“Yes, but I say—” began Mr. Thesiger.
A large-sized foot pressed his, and realizing that Superintendent Battlewas giving him a hint, Jimmy shut up.
“I nearly died of fear,” continued the Countess. “I tried not to breathe.
The man waited for a minute, listening. Then, still with that horrible,stealthy tread—”
Again Jimmy opened his mouth in protest, and again shut it.
“—he crossed to the window and peered out. He remained there for aminute or two, then he recrossed the room and turned out the lights again,locking the door. I am terrified. He is in the room, moving stealthily aboutin the dark. Ah, it is horrible. Suppose he should come upon me in thedark! In another minute I hear him again by the window. Then silence. Ihope that perhaps he may have gone out that way. As the minutes passand I hear no further sound, I am almost sure that he has done so. IndeedI am in the very act of switching on my torch and investigating when—prestissimo!—it all begins.”
“Yes?”
“Ah! But it was terrible—never—never shall I forget it! Two men tryingto murder each other. Oh, it was horrible! They reeled about the room,and furniture crashed in every direction. I thought, too, that I heard a wo-man scream—but that was not in the room. It was outside somewhere.
The criminal had a hoarse voice. He croaked rather than spoke. He keptsaying ‘Lemme go—lemme go.’ The other man was a gentleman. He had acultured English voice.”
Jimmy looked gratified.
“He swore—mostly,” continued the Countess.
“Clearly a gentleman,” said Superintendent Battle.
“And then,” continued the Countess, “a flash and a shot. The bullet hitthe bookcase beside me. I—I suppose I must have fainted.”
She looked up at Bill. He took her hand and patted it.
“You poor dear,” he said. “How rotten for you.”
“Silly idiot,” thought Bundle.
Superintendent Battle had moved on swift, noiseless feet over to thebookcase a little to the right of the screen. He bent down, searching.
Presently he stooped and picked something up.
“It wasn’t a bullet, Countess,” he said. “It’s the shell of the cartridge.
Where were you standing when you fired, Mr. Thesiger.”
Jimmy took up a position by the window.
“As nearly as I can see, about here.”
Superintendent Battle placed himself in the same spot.
“That’s right,” he agreed. “The empty shell would throw right rear. It’s a.455. I don’t wonder the Countess thought it was a bullet in the dark. It hitthe bookcase about a foot from her. The bullet itself grazed the windowframe and we’ll find it outside tomorrow—unless your assailant happensto be carrying it about in him.”
Jimmy shook his head regretfully.
“Leopold, I fear, did not cover himself with glory,” he remarked sadly.
The Countess was looking at him with most flattering attention.
“Your arm!” she exclaimed. “It is all tied up! Was it you then—?”
Jimmy made her a mock bow.
“I’m so glad I’ve got a cultured, English voice,” he said. “And I can assureyou that I wouldn’t have dreamed of using the language I did if I had hadany suspicion that a lady was present.”
“I did not understand all of it,” the Countess hastened to explain. “Al-though I had an English governess when I was young—”
“It isn’t the sort of thing she’d be likely to teach you,” agreed Jimmy.
“Kept you busy with your uncle’s pen, and the umbrella of the gardener’sniece. I know the sort of stuff.”
“But what has happened?” asked the Countess. “That is what I want toknow. I demand to know what has happened.”
There was a moment’s silence whilst everybody looked at Superintend-ent Battle.
“It’s very simple,” said Battle mildly. “Attempted robbery. Some politicalpapers stolen from Sir Stanley Digby. The thieves nearly got away withthem, but thanks to this young lady”—he indicated Loraine—“they didn’t.”
The Countess flashed a glance at the girl—rather an odd glance.
“Indeed,” she said coldly.
“A very fortunate coincidence that she happened to be there,” said Su-perintendent Battle, smiling.
The Countess gave a little sigh and half closed her eyes again.
“It is absurd, but I still feel extremely faint,” she murmured.
“Of course you do,” cried Bill. “Let me help you up to your room. Bundlewill come with you.”
“It is very kind of Lady Eileen,” said the Countess, “but I should prefer tobe alone. I am really quite all right. Perhaps you will just help me up thestairs.”
She rose to her feet, accepted Bill’s arm and, leaning heavily on it, wentout of the room. Bundle followed as far as the hall, but, the Countess reit-erating her assurance—with some tartness—that she was quite all right,she did not accompany them upstairs.
But as she stood watching the Countess’s graceful form, supported byBill, slowly mounting the stairway, she stiffened suddenly to acute atten-tion. The Countess’s negligée, as previously mentioned, was thin—a mereveil of orange chiffon. Through it Bundle saw distinctly below the rightshoulder blade a small black mole.
With a gasp, Bundle swung impetuously round to where SuperintendentBattle was just emerging from the library. Jimmy and Loraine had pre-ceded him.
“There,” said Battle. “I’ve fastened the window and there will be a manon duty outside. And I’ll lock the door and take the key. In the morningwe’ll do what the French call reconstruct the crime—Yes, Lady Eileen,what is it?”
“Superintendent Battle, I must speak with you,—at once.”
“Why, certainly, I—”
George Lomax suddenly appeared, Dr. Cartwright by his side.
“Ah, there you are, Battle. You’ll be relieved to hear that there’s nothingseriously wrong with O’Rourke.”
“I never thought there would be much wrong with Mr. O’Rourke,” saidBattle.
“He’s had a strong hypodermic administered to him,” said the doctor.
“He’ll wake perfectly all right in the morning, perhaps a bit of a head, per-haps not. Now then, young man, let’s look at this bullet wound of yours.”
“Come on, nurse,” said Jimmy to Loraine. “Come and hold the basin ormy hand. Witness a strong man’s agony. You know the stunt.”
Jimmy, Loraine and the doctor went off together. Bundle continued tothrow agonized glances in the direction of Superintendent Battle, who hadbeen buttonholed by George.
The Superintendent waited patiently till a pause occurred in George’s lo-quacity. He then swiftly took advantage of it.
“I wonder, sir, if I might have a word privately with Sir Stanley? In thelittle study at the end there.”
“Certainly,” said George. “Certainly. I’ll go and fetch him at once.”
He hurried off upstairs again. Battle drew Bundle swiftly into the draw-ing room and shut the door.
“Now, Lady Eileen, what is it?”
“I’ll tell you as quickly as I can—but it’s rather long and complicated.”
As concisely as she could, Bundle related her introduction to the SevenDials Club and her subsequent adventures there. When she had finished,Superintendent Battle drew a long breath. For once, his facial woodennesswas laid aside.
“Remarkable,” he said. “Remarkable. I wouldn’t have believed it pos-sible—even for you, Lady Eileen. I ought to have known better.”
“But you did give me a hint, Superintendent Battle. You told me to askBill Eversleigh.”
“It’s dangerous to give people like you a hint, Lady Eileen. I neverdreamt of your going to the lengths you have.”
“Well, it’s all right, Superintendent Battle. My death doesn’t lie at yourdoor.”
“Not yet, it doesn’t,” said Battle grimly.
He stood as though in thought, turning things over in his mind. “WhatMr. Thesiger was about, letting you run into danger like that, I can’tthink,” he said presently.
“He didn’t know till afterwards,” said Bundle. “I’m not a complete mug,Superintendent Battle. And, anyway, he’s got his hands full looking afterMiss Wade.”
“Is that so?” said the Superintendent. “Ah!”
He twinkled a little.
“I shall have to detail Mr. Eversleigh to look after you, Lady Eileen.”
“Bill!” said Bundle contemptuously. “But, Superintendent Battle, youhaven’t heard the end of my story. The woman I saw there—Anna—No 1.
Yes, No 1 is the Countess Radzky.”
And rapidly she went on to describe her recognition of the mole.
To her surprise the Superintendent hemmed and hawed.
“A mole isn’t much to go upon, Lady Eileen. Two women might have anidentical mole very easily. You must remember that the Countess Radzkyis a very well-known figure in Hungary.”
“Then this isn’t the real Countess Radzky. I tell you I’m sure this is thesame woman I saw there. And look at her tonight—the way we found her.
I don’t believe she ever fainted at all.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t say that, Lady Eileen. That empty shell striking thebookcase beside her might have frightened any woman half out of herwits.”
“But what was she doing there anyway? One doesn’t come down to lookfor a book with an electric torch.”
Battle scratched his cheek. He seemed unwilling to speak. He began topace up and down the room, as though making up his mind. At last heturned to the girl.
“See here, Lady Eileen, I’m going to trust you. The Countess’s conduct issuspicious. I know that as well as you do. It’s very suspicious—but we’vegot to go carefully. There mustn’t be any unpleasantness with the Em-bassies. One has got to be sure.”
“I see. If you were sure .?.?.”
“There’s something else. During the war, Lady Eileen, there was a greatoutcry about German spies being left at large. Busybodies wrote letters tothe papers about it. We paid no attention. Hard words didn’t hurt us. Thesmall fry were left alone. Why? Because through them, sooner or later, wegot the big fellow—the man at the top.”
“You mean?”
“Don’t bother about what I mean, Lady Eileen. But remember this. Iknow all about the Countess. And I want her let alone.”
“And now,” added Superintendent Battle ruefully, “I’ve got to think ofsomething to say to Sir Stanley Digby!”
第二十二章 拉兹基伯爵夫人的故事
第二十二章 拉兹基伯爵夫人的故事
伯爵夫人苏醒过来的过程跟吉米•塞西杰很不一样。不仅时间更长，而且要精彩得多。
“精彩”是邦德尔的说法。她一直在旁边热心地帮忙照料——主要是帮着浇冷水——伯爵夫人很快就有了反应，把那只苍白无力不知所措的小手从额头挪开，嘴里有气无力地呻吟着。
就在这时，打完电话请好医生的比尔匆匆忙忙地走进来，一进来就开始丢人现眼——在邦德尔看来。
他俯下身子守在伯爵夫人身旁，脸上满是焦虑和关心，嘴里冒出一连串的傻话：
“嗨，伯爵夫人，会好起来的，真的会好起来的。别说话，这样对您不好。好好躺着，您很快就会好的。您会完全恢复过来的。等您完全好了再说，别急，慢慢来。好好躺着，闭上眼睛，很快您就会记起来的。再喝口水。喝点白兰地，对了，来点白兰地。邦德尔，你不觉得来点白兰地……”
“看在老天的分儿上，比尔，让她静一静吧，”邦德尔恼火地说道，“她会没事的。”
然后她老练地用手指往伯爵夫人优雅的脸庞上弹了许多冷水。
伯爵夫人的身子往后缩了缩，坐了起来。她比刚才要清醒多了。
“啊！”她咕哝道，“我还活着。是，我还活着。”
“慢慢来，”比尔说道，“等您觉得好些了再说话。”
伯爵夫人稍微紧了紧身上那件非常透明的睡袍。
“我活过来了，”她咕哝道，“对，我又活过来了。”
她看了看围在自己身边的这几个人。在这些充满关切的面孔中，也许有一张让她看出了冷漠和无情，但不管怎样，她还是冲着那张明显带有异样情绪的脸笑了笑。
“哦，我的大个子英国人，”她非常温柔地说道，“别担心，我没事儿。”
“噢！确定吗？”比尔急切地问道。
“十分确定。”她冲他微微一笑，“我们匈牙利人，有着钢铁般的意志。”
比尔的脸上明显流露出如释重负的表情，但紧接着又浮现出一股痴痴的神情。邦德尔看在眼里，真想踢他一脚。
“喝点水吧。”她冷冷地说道。
伯爵夫人不想喝水。于是，吉米换了一种更体贴的语气，建议这位落难美女喝一杯鸡尾酒。伯爵夫人欣然接受。喝完鸡尾酒，她又四下打量一番，这一次目光有神多了。
“告诉我，发生什么事了？”她强烈地要求道。
“我们还指望您能告诉我们呢。”巴特尔警司说道。
伯爵夫人目光锐利地看着他，好像这才发现有这么一个一言不发的大个子。
“我去过你的房间，”邦德尔说道，“床上没有睡过人，而且你也不在。”
她没有说下去——只是用责备的目光看着伯爵夫人。伯爵夫人闭上眼睛，缓缓地点了点头。
“对了，对了，我全记起来了。噢，太可怕了！”她打了个哆嗦，“要我告诉你们吗？”
巴特尔警司说道：“如果您愿意的话。”
话音未落，比尔却说道：“要是您觉得没力气的话，您可以不说。”
伯爵夫人看了看巴特尔，又看了看比尔，最终警司眼中不动声色却非常锐利的目光占了上风。
“我睡不着，”伯爵夫人开口说道，“这幢房子……让我压抑。这么说吧，让我坐卧不安，就好像热锅上的蚂蚁。带着这种心情，要想好好睡觉是不可能的。我在房间里走来走去，还看了一会儿书。可是房间里的书也不是很有趣，我想下来找点更有意思的书看看。”
“这是很自然的事。”比尔说道。
“这是很常见的事，我相信。”巴特尔也说道。
“一想到这个，我就马上下楼了。整幢房子非常安静……”
“对不起，”警司插了一句，“您能不能告诉我当时是什么时间？”
“我从来就不知道时间。”伯爵夫人郑重地说道，接着又开始讲述她的遭遇，“整幢房子非常安静，连小老鼠跑动的声音都听得见，如果真有小老鼠的话。我从楼梯上走下来……脚步非常轻……”
“非常轻？”
“当然，我不想吵醒别人，”伯爵夫人不无责备地说道，“进来后我走到这个拐角，想在书架上找一本合适的书来读。”
“那自然是开了灯吧？”
“没有，我没开灯。我随身带了个小手电筒。借着小手电筒的光亮，我在书架上找书。”
“哦！”警司说道。
“突然，”伯爵夫人像在演戏一样接着说道，“我听见了声音，一个鬼鬼祟祟的声音，一个蹑手蹑脚的脚步声。我关掉手电筒，侧耳倾听。脚步声越来越近了……鬼鬼祟祟、令人恐怖的脚步声。我缩起身子躲在屏风的后面。又过了一分钟，门开了，灯也打开了。那人……那个小偷进了房间。”
“对，听我说……”塞西杰先生正要开口说话。
一只大脚踩了他一下，吉米明白了巴特尔警司的暗示，于是闭上了嘴。
“我差点被吓死了，”伯爵夫人接着说道，“我尽量不出声。那人站在那儿停了一会儿，听了听动静。然后，依然拖着那鬼鬼祟祟令人恐怖的脚步……”
吉米又一次张开嘴巴想提出异议，但又一次把嘴闭上了。
“……他走到窗户旁，朝外面张望了一下。在那儿他又停了一两分钟，然后又走了回来，把灯关掉，锁上了门。我吓坏了。黑灯瞎火的，他在这里蹑手蹑脚地到处走动。啊！
真是太可怕了。要是他碰到我该怎么办啊！又过了一分钟，我听见他又摸到窗户边上，然后就没动静了。我想他也许从窗户出去了。又过了一会儿，我再也没有听见任何动静，我几乎肯定他已经从窗户出去了，真的。就在我准备打开手电找书的那一刹那……说时迟那时快……就出事了。”
“什么事？”
“哦！太可怕了……我永远……永远……也忘不了！两个男人在拼死搏斗。哦，真是太可怕了！他们扭成一团，拽来拽去，周围的家具都被打碎了。我好像还听到了一声女人的尖叫……不过不是在里面，而是在房间外面的某个地方。那个罪犯嗓音粗哑，与其说他是在说话，还不如说是在哇哇乱叫。他一个劲地说‘放开我……放开我’。另外一个是位绅士，说话的腔调一听就知道是个文雅的英国人。”
吉米显得很得意。
“他主要是……动口。”伯爵夫人说道。
“很明显是一位绅士。”巴特尔警司说道。
“再后来，”伯爵夫人接着说道，“就是一道亮光和一声枪响。子弹打在了我身旁的书架上。我……我想我肯定是昏过去了。”
她抬头看了看比尔。比尔握住她的手，轻轻地拍着。
“上帝，小可怜，”他说道，“你真是受苦了。”
“白痴。”邦德尔心里暗自骂道。
巴特尔警司不声不响地快步走到屏风右边的那个书架旁。他俯身在地上找了找，很快，他就捡起了一样东西。
“不是子弹，伯爵夫人，”他说道，“是弹壳。你开枪时站在什么地方，塞西杰先生？”
吉米走到窗口的一个位置上。
“差不多是在这儿。”
巴特尔警司也走到那个位置上。
“不错，”他表示同意，“弹壳应该是往后弹的。这是点四五手枪子弹。我相信伯爵夫人在黑暗中误以为它是一颗子弹。这个弹壳击中了离她约一英尺的书架，弹头则擦着窗框飞出去了，明天我们会在外面找到的……除非它正好打中了那个人，让他给带跑了。”
吉米懊恼地摇了摇头。
“利奥波特恐怕是得不到这份荣誉了。”他不快地说道。
伯爵夫人用殷勤目光打量着他。
“你的胳膊！”她惊叫，“都包扎起来了！这么说是你……”
吉米假模假样地朝她鞠了一躬。
“很高兴我有一副文雅的英国人的嗓音，”他说道，“我可以向您保证，要是我怀疑当时有一位女士在场，我绝对不会说那些粗话。”
“其实我完全听不懂，”伯爵夫人赶忙解释，“虽然小时候我有一个教英文的家庭女教师……”
“她不可能教你那些东西的，”吉米表示赞同，“她肯定是教你一直用你叔叔的钢笔写写字，或者学会怎么用园丁侄女的雨伞之类的。我知道那一套。”
“可是，究竟出了什么事？”伯爵夫人问道，“我很想知道。我要知道出了什么事。”
一时之间，大家都没有说话，每个人都看着巴特尔警司。
“很简单，”巴特尔轻描淡写地说道，“盗窃未遂。有人从斯坦利•迪格比爵士那里偷走了一些政治性文件。窃贼们差一点就得手了，幸亏这位年轻的小姐，”他指了指洛兰，“最后他们没有得逞。”
伯爵夫人瞥了那个女孩一眼——眼神有些古怪。
“幸亏。”她冷冷地说道。
“她恰好在那儿，太巧了。”巴特尔警司微笑着说道。
伯爵夫人微微叹了口气，又半闭上眼睛。
“真荒唐，不过我还是觉得虚弱极了。”她喃喃地说道。
“那当然，”比尔说道，“我扶您上楼去。邦德尔会陪着您的。”
“艾琳小姐真是好心，”伯爵夫人说道，“不过我想一个人待一会儿。我真的好了。要不你扶我上楼梯吧？”
她站起身来，紧靠在比尔伸过来的胳膊上，走出了房间。邦德尔一直跟到了大厅，但伯爵夫人反复说自己没事了，而且语气有些尖刻，于是邦德尔索性就不跟上去了。
但是，当她站在那儿目送比尔搀扶着伯爵夫人慢慢上楼时，她机警的目光一下子呆住了。我们在前面说过了，伯爵夫人的那件睡袍很薄，就像蝉翼般的一层橘黄色薄纱。透过睡袍，邦德尔分明看见她的右肩胛骨下长有一颗小黑痣。
邦德尔惊得倒吸一口凉气，猛然一转身，正好碰上从藏书室出来的巴特尔警司。吉米和洛兰则走在前头。
“好啦，”巴特尔说道，“我已经把窗户关好了，还会派一个人在外面值班。这道门我要锁上，钥匙也要拿走。早上我们再进行法国人所说的罪案重现……哦，艾琳小姐，有什么事吗？”
“巴特尔警司，我必须跟您谈谈……现在就谈。”
“为什么，当然可以，我……”
这时乔治•洛马克斯突然冒了出来，旁边是卡特赖特医生。
“啊，原来你在这儿呀，巴特尔。奥罗克先生没事了，你可以放心了。”
“我从来就不觉得奥罗克先生会有什么事。”巴特尔答道。
“给他打了一针，”医生说道，“早上他就会醒来的。也许会有些头痛，也许头痛也不会有。好了，年轻人，我们来看看你的枪伤吧。”
“来吧，护士小姐，”吉米对洛兰说道，“过来端端盘子，要不就帮忙抓牢我的手。来看看坚强的人是怎么挣扎的。这套路数你该懂的吧。”
吉米、洛兰和医生一道走开了。巴特尔警司被乔治拉住说个不停，邦德尔则在一旁焦灼不安地瞅着。
巴特尔耐心地听着，乔治的长篇大论好不容易才告一段落，他迅速抓住这个空档打算脱身。
“先生，我可不可以跟斯坦利爵士单独谈谈？就在那边的小书房里。”
“当然可以，”乔治答道，“当然可以。我这就去把他叫来。”
他又急急忙忙地上了楼。旋即，巴特尔把邦德尔拉进客厅，并关上了门。
“好了，艾琳小姐，什么事？”
“我长话短说……不过事情又长又复杂。”
邦德尔尽可能简要地把她如何进入七面钟俱乐部以及后来的冒险经历讲述了一遍。听邦德尔讲完，巴特尔警司长长地吸了口气。他的脸上第一次浮现出不再是木然的表情。
“了不起，”他赞叹道，“真了不起。我简直不敢相信有这种事……尤其对你来说，艾琳小姐。我应该早就去摸一摸情况的。”
“但确实是您给我暗示的呀，巴特尔警司。是您叫我去问比尔•埃弗斯利的。”
“给你这样的人暗示真是太危险了，艾琳小姐。我做梦也想不到你会这么冒险。”
“唉，我这不是好好的吗，巴特尔警司？好端端地活着嘛！”
“是还活着。”巴特尔绷着脸说道。
他站在那儿，陷入了沉思。“塞西杰先生是怎么想的，竟然让你冒那样的危险，我实在想不通。”他旋即说道。
“他也是事后才知道的，”邦德尔说道，“我也不是个傻子，巴特尔警司。再说，他还得花心思照顾好韦德小姐，哪有工夫来管我呢。”
“是这样吗？”警司说道，“看来我得派埃弗斯利先生来照顾你了，艾琳小组。”
“比尔？”邦德尔有些不屑地说道，“不过，巴特尔警司，您还没听我说完呢。我在俱乐部见到的那个女人……安娜……也就是一点钟，没错，一点钟就是拉兹基伯爵夫人。”
接着，她又很快地讲了一遍她认出那颗黑痣的经过。
令她惊讶的是，巴特尔警司只是打了个哈哈。
“一颗黑痣说明不了太多的问题，艾琳小组。就算是不同的两个女人，也很可能长着一颗完全相同的痣。你必须记住，拉兹基伯爵夫人在匈牙利是非常有名的人物。”
“那么她就不是真正的拉兹基伯爵夫人。我敢保证她就是我在那儿看到的那个女人。您瞧瞧今天晚上我们是怎么发现她的。我根本就不信她昏过去了。”
“哦，我可不这么想，艾琳小姐。那个弹壳打在了她身旁的书架上，任何一个女人都会吓个半死。”
“但她去那儿究竟想干什么呢？谁会带手电筒下楼来找书呢？”
巴特尔挠了挠脸颊，似乎不愿意开口说话。他开始在客厅里踱来踱去，仿佛要下定什么决心似的。终于，他对邦德尔说道：
“听着，艾琳小姐，我相信你。伯爵夫人的举动很可疑，这一点我和你一样心知肚明。
确实十分可疑……但我们得小心行事，不能造成大使馆方面的不快，必须有十足的把握。”
“我明白了。如果您确定……”
“还有一件事。艾琳小姐，战争期间有人抗议说许多德国间谍还在逍遥法外，一些好管闲事的人还给报纸写信。对这些我们没有理睬，话说得再难听我们也当没听见。那些小鱼小虾根本就没必要去管它，为什么？这就叫放长线钓大鱼，迟早我们会逮住大家伙。”
“您的意思是……”
“别管我是什么意思，艾琳小姐。但是你要记住，伯爵夫人的情况我了如指掌，而且我希望你不要打草惊蛇。好了，”巴特尔警司有些发愁地补充了一句，“我得想出点话来，好跟斯坦利•迪格比爵士说说！”
Twenty-three SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE IN CHARGE
Twenty-three SUPERINTENDENT BATTLE IN CHARGE

It was ten o’clock on the following morning. The sun poured in throughthe windows of the library, where Superintendent Battle had been at worksince six. On a summons from him, George Lomax, Sir Oswald Coote andJimmy Thesiger had just joined him, having repaired the fatigues of thenight with a substantial breakfast. Jimmy’s arm was in a sling, but he borelittle trace of the night’s affray.
The Superintendent eyed all three of them benevolently, somewhat withthe air of a kindly curator explaining a museum to little boys. On the tablebeside him were various objects, neatly labelled. Amongst them Jimmy re-cognized Leopold.
“Ah, Superintendent,” said George, “I have been anxious to know howyou have progressed. Have you caught the man?”
“He’ll take a lot of catching, he will,” said the Superintendent.
His failure in that respect did not appear to rankle with him.
George Lomax did not look particularly well-pleased. He detested levityof any kind.
“I’ve got everything taped out pretty clearly,” went on the detective.
He took up two objects from the table.
“Here we’ve got the two bullets. The largest is a .455, fired from Mr.
Thesiger’s Colt automatic. Grazed the window sash and I found it embed-ded in the trunk of that cedar tree. This little fellow was fired from theMauser .25. After passing through Mr. Thesiger’s arm, it embedded itselfin this armchair here. As for the pistol itself—”
“Well?” said Sir Oswald eagerly. “Any fingerprints?”
Battle shook his head.
“The man who handled it wore gloves,” he said slowly.
“A pity,” said Sir Oswald.
“A man who knew his business would wear gloves. Am I right in think-ing, Sir Oswald, that you found this pistol just about twenty yards from thebottom of the steps leading up to the terrace?”
Sir Oswald stepped to the window.
“Yes, almost exactly, I should say.”
“I don’t want to find fault, but it would have been wiser on your part,sir, to leave it exactly as you found it.”
“I am sorry,” said Sir Oswald stiffly.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’ve been able to reconstruct things. There wereyour footprints, you see, leading up from the bottom of the garden, and aplace where you had obviously stopped and stooped down, and a kind ofdent in the grass which was highly suggestive. By the way, what was yourtheory of the pistol being there?”
“I presumed that it had been dropped by the man in his flight.”
Battle shook his head.
“Not dropped. Sir Oswald. There are two points against that. To beginwith, there are only one set of footprints crossing the lawn just there—your own.”
“I see,” said Sir Oswald thoughtfully.
“Can you be sure of that, Battle?” put in George.
“Quite sure, sir. There is one other set of tracks crossing the lawn, MissWade’s, but they are a good deal further to the left.”
He paused, and then went on: “And there’s the dent in the ground. Thepistol must have struck the ground with some force. It all points to its hav-ing been thrown.”
“Well, why not?” said Sir Oswald. “Say the man fled down the path tothe left. He’d leave no footprints on the path and he’d hurl the pistol awayfrom him into the middle of the lawn, eh, Lomax?”
George agreed by a nod of the head.
“It’s true that he’d leave no footprints on the path,” said Battle, “butfrom the shape of the dent and the way the turf was cut, I don’t think thepistol was thrown from that direction. I think it was thrown from the ter-race here.”
“Very likely,” said Sir Oswald. “Does it matter, Superintendent?”
“Ah, yes, Battle,” broke in George. “Is it—er—strictly relevant?”
“Perhaps not, Mr. Lomax. But we like to get things just so, you know. Iwonder now if one of you gentlemen would take this pistol and throw it.
Will you, Sir Oswald? That’s very kind. Stand just there in the window.
Now fling it into the middle of the lawn.”
Sir Oswald complied, sending the pistol flying through the air with apowerful sweep of his arm. Jimmy Thesiger drew near with breathless in-terest. The Superintendent lumbered off after it like a well- trained re-triever. He reappeared with a beaming face.
“That’s it, sir. Just the same kind of mark. Although, by the way, you sentit a good ten yards farther. But then, you’re a very powerfully built man,aren’t you, Sir Oswald? Excuse me, I thought I heard someone at thedoor.”
The Superintendent’s ears must have been very much sharper than any-one else’s. Nobody else had heard a sound, but Battle was proved right, forLady Coote stood outside, a medicine glass in her hand.
“Your medicine, Oswald,” she said, advancing into the room. “You forgotit after breakfast.”
“I’m very busy, Maria,” said Sir Oswald. “I don’t want my medicine.”
“You would never take it if it wasn’t for me,” said his wife serenely, ad-vancing upon him. “You’re just like a naughty little boy. Drink it up now.”
And meekly, obediently, the great steel magnate drank it up!
Lady Coote smiled sadly and sweetly at everyone.
“Am I interrupting you? Are you very busy? Oh, look at those revolvers.
Nasty, noisy, murdering things. To think, Oswald, that you might havebeen shot by the burglar last night.”
“You must have been alarmed when you found he was missing, LadyCoote,” said Battle.
“I didn’t think of it at first,” confessed Lady Coote. “This poor boyhere”—she indicated Jimmy—“being shot—and everything so dreadful,but so exciting. It wasn’t till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald wasthat I remembered he’d gone out half an hour before for a stroll.”
“Sleepless, eh, Sir Oswald?” asked Battle.
“I am usually an excellent sleeper,” said Sir Oswald. “But I must confessthat last night I felt unusually restless. I thought the night air would do megood.”
“You came out through this window, I suppose?”
Was it his fancy, or did Sir Oswald hesitate for a moment before reply-ing?
“Yes.”
“In your pumps too,” said Lady Coote, “instead of putting thick shoes on.
What would you do without me to look after you?”
She shook her head sadly.
“I think, Maria, if you don’t mind leaving us—we have still a lot to dis-cuss.”
“I know, dear, I’m just going.”
Lady Coote withdrew, carrying the empty medicine glass as though itwere a goblet out of which she had just administered a death potion.
“Well, Battle,” said George Lomax, “it all seems clear enough. Yes, per-fectly clear. The man fires a shot, disabling Mr. Thesiger, flings away theweapon, runs along the terrace and down the gravel path.”
“Where he ought to have been caught by my men,” put in Battle.
“Your men, if I may say so, Battle, seem to have been singularly remiss.
They didn’t see Miss Wade come in. If they could miss her coming in, theycould easily miss the thief going out.”
Superintendent Battle opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to thinkbetter of it. Jimmy Thesiger looked at him curiously. He would have givena lot to know just what was in Superintendent Battle’s mind.
“Must have been a champion runner,” was all the Scotland Yard mancontented himself with saying.
“How do you mean, Battle?”
“Just what I say, Mr. Lomax. I was round the corner of the terrace my-self not fifty seconds after the shot was fired. And for a man to run all thatdistance towards me and get round the corner of the path before I ap-peared round the side of the house—well, as I say, he must have been achampion runner.”
“I am at a loss to understand you, Battle. You have some idea of yourown which I have not yet—er—grasped. You say the man did not go acrossthe lawn, and now you hint—What exactly do you hint? That the man didnot go down the path? Then in your opinion—er—where did he go?”
For answer, Superintendent Battle jerked an eloquent thumb upwards.
“Eh?” said George.
The Superintendent jerked harder than ever. George raised his headand looked at the ceiling.
“Up there,” said Battle. “Up the ivy again.”
“Nonsense, Superintendent. What you are suggesting is impossible.”
“Not at all impossible, sir. He’d done it once. He could do it twice.”
“I don’t mean impossible in that sense. But if the man wanted to escape,he’d never bolt back into the house.”
“Safest place for him, Mr. Lomax.”
“But Mr. O’Rourke’s door was still locked on the inside when we came tohim.”
“And how did you get to him? Through Sir Stanley’s room. That’s theway our man went. Lady Eileen tells me she saw the door knob of Mr.
O’Rourke’s room move. That was when our friend was up there the firsttime. I suspect the key was under Mr. O’Rourke’s pillow. But his exit isclear enough the second time — through the communicating door andthrough Sir Stanley’s room, which, of course, was empty. Like everyoneelse, Sir Stanley is rushing downstairs to the library. Our man’s got a clearcourse.”
“And where did he go then?”
Superintendent Battle shrugged his burly shoulders and became evas-ive.
“Plenty of ways open. Into an empty room on the other side of the houseand down the ivy again—out through a side door—or, just possibly, if itwas an inside job, he—well, stayed in the house.”
George looked at him in shocked surprise.
“Really, Battle, I should—I should feel it very deeply if one of my ser-vants—er—I have the most perfect reliance on them—it would distress mevery much to have to suspect—”
“Nobody’s asking you to suspect anyone, Mr. Lomax. I’m just putting allthe possibilities before you. The servants may be all right—probably are.”
“You have disturbed me,” said George. “You have disturbed me greatly.”
His eyes appeared more protuberant than ever.
To distract him, Jimmy poked delicately at a curious blackened object onthe table.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“That’s exhibit Z,” said Battle. “The last of our little lot. It is, or rather ithas been, a glove.”
He picked it up, the charred relic, and manipulated it with pride.
“Where did you find it?” asked Sir Oswald.
Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.
“In the grate—nearly burnt, but not quite. Queer looks as though it hadbeen chewed by a dog.”
“It might possibly be Miss Wade’s,” suggested Jimmy. “She has severaldogs.”
The Superintendent shook his head.
“This isn’t a lady’s glove—no, not even the large kind of loose gloveladies wear nowadays. Put it on, sir, a moment.”
He adjusted the blackened object over Jimmy’s hand.
“You see—it’s large even for you.”
“Do you attach importance to this discovery?” inquired Sir Oswaldcoldly.
“You never know, Sir Oswald, what’s going to be important or whatisn’t.”
There was a sharp tap at the door and Bundle entered.
“I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically. “But Father has just rung up. Hesays I must come home because everybody is worrying him.”
She paused.
“Yes, my dear Eileen?” said George encouragingly, perceiving that therewas more to come.
“I wouldn’t have interrupted you—only that I thought it might perhapshave something to do with all this. You see, what has upset Father is thatone of our footmen is missing. He went out last night and hasn’t comeback.”
“What is the man’s name?” It was Sir Oswald who took up the cross-ex-amination.
“John Bauer.”
“An Englishman?”
“I believe he calls himself a Swiss—but I think he’s a German. He speaksEnglish perfectly, though.”
“Ah!” Sir Oswald drew in his breath with a long, satisfied hiss. “And hehas been at Chimneys—how long?”
“Just under a month.”
Sir Oswald turned to the other two.
“Here is our missing man. You know, Lomax, as well as I do, that severalforeign Governments are after the thing. I remember the man now per-fectly—tall, well-drilled fellow. Came about a fortnight before we left. Aclever move. Any new servants here would be closely scrutinized, but atChimneys, five miles away—” He did not finish the sentence.
“You think the plan was laid so long beforehand?”
“Why not? There are millions in that formula, Lomax. Doubtless Bauerhoped to get access to my private papers at Chimneys, and to learn some-thing of forthcoming arrangements from them. It seems likely that he mayhave had an accomplice in this house—someone who put him wise to thelie of the land and who saw to the doping of O’Rourke. But Bauer was theman Miss Wade saw climbing down the ivy—the big, powerful man.”
He turned to Superintendent Battle.
“Bauer was your man, Superintendent. And, somehow or other, you lethim slip through your fingers.”
第二十三章 巴特尔警司坐镇
第二十三章 巴特尔警司坐镇
第二天早上十点。阳光穿过窗户洒进藏书室，巴特尔警司从六点就开始在这里工作了。应他的召唤，乔治•洛马克斯、奥斯瓦德•库特爵士和吉米•塞西杰刚刚加入进来——吃过一顿丰盛的早餐之后，昨夜的疲惫已经一扫而光。吉米的胳膊仍然吊着绷带，但脸上已经看不出昨天晚上留下的任何痕迹。
警司亲切地看着他们三人，有点像和蔼可亲的博物馆馆长正向一群小孩子做着讲解。
他身旁的桌子上摆放着各式各样的东西，每样东西上面都端端正正地贴着标签。在这些东西之中，吉米认出了他的利奥波特自动手枪。
“啊，警司，”乔治说道，“我很想知道你的进展。你抓住那个人没有？”
“那家伙很难抓，要花一番工夫。”警司平淡地说道。
他似乎并没有为这次挫折感到痛心。
乔治•洛马克斯显得特别不高兴，他对任何形式的轻率都深恶痛绝。
“我把每样东西都标清楚了。”侦探接着说道。
他从桌子上拿起两件东西。
“我们找到了两颗子弹。大的子弹是点四五的，是从塞西杰先生的柯尔特式自动手枪打出来的，弹头擦过窗框，打进了一棵雪松的树干。小的子弹是从点二五毛瑟手枪打出来的，打穿了塞西杰先生的胳膊，弹头嵌进了这把扶手椅。至于那把手枪嘛……”
“嗯？”奥斯瓦德爵士急切地问道，“有没有发现指纹？”
巴特尔摇了摇头。
“开枪的人戴着手套。”他缓缓地说道。
“真遗憾。”奥斯瓦德爵士说。
“行家都会戴手套的。奥斯瓦德爵士，您是在离通往露台的楼梯脚下正好二十码远的地方发现它的，对不对？”
奥斯瓦德爵士走近窗户。
“对，差不多这个位置。”
“我不想挑刺，但要是您当初不动它就更好了，爵士。”
“对不起。”奥斯瓦德爵士的回答有些生硬。
“噢，没关系。我能够推断出当时的情形。您瞧，那是您从花园尽头走过来的脚印，还有，您显然在那个地方停了下来，还弯了一下腰，那儿的草地有被压过的痕迹，一眼就能看出来。顺便问一下，对于手枪为什么会在那儿，您怎么看？”
“我猜是那个人逃跑时掉在那儿的。”
巴特尔摇了摇头。
“不是掉下的，奥斯瓦德爵士。有两点可以证明这一点。首先，只有一组脚印穿过那儿的草坪……也就是您的脚印。”
“我明白了。”奥斯瓦德爵士若有所思地说道。
“你肯定吗，巴特尔？”乔治插了一句。
“十分肯定，先生。草坪上还有一组脚印，是韦德小姐留下的，但它们更靠左。”他顿了顿，然后接着说道，“而且地上还有那个压痕。手枪落地时肯定很有冲击力，这证明枪是被是扔出去的。”
“嗯，没错！”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“这么说那个人是顺着通往左边的那条小路逃跑的，这样路上就不会留下脚印，手枪也是在逃跑当中用力扔到草坪中央的。洛马克斯，你觉得呢？”
乔治点头表示同意。
“沿小路跑确实不会留下脚印，”巴特尔说道，“不过从压痕的形状和草皮的切口来看，我觉得手枪不可能是从那个方向扔过来的。我觉得是从露台这儿扔下去的。”
“很有可能，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“这很重要吗，警司？”
“是啊，巴特尔，”乔治插嘴说道，“这……这……真的很重要吗？”
“难说，洛马克斯先生。不过您知道，我们喜欢把一切都搞清楚。现在，不知哪位先生愿意把这把手枪扔出去。奥斯瓦德爵士，您来试试好吗？太好了。您站到窗子上去，对，把它扔到草坪中央去。”
奥斯瓦德爵士用力一挥，把手抢扔了过去。吉米•塞西杰饶有兴致地凑了过来，连呼吸都停止了。而巴特尔警司就像一头训练有素的猎狗，忙着去找手枪了。过了一会儿，他满脸笑容地回来了。
“没错，先生们，痕迹完全相同。只不过，顺便说一句，您扔的整整远了十码。不过奥斯瓦德爵士，您非常强壮，可不是吗？对不起，我听到门口有人。”
警司的耳朵一定比其他人灵得多，因为谁也没有听到声响。但事实证明巴特尔是对的，库特夫人正站在门外，手里端着一个药杯。
“你的药，奥斯瓦德。”她说着走进来，“你吃完早饭忘记吃药了。”
“我很忙，玛丽亚，”奥斯瓦德爵士答道，“我不吃药。”
“要是我不拿过来，你永远不会吃的。”他的妻子沉着地说道，朝他走去。“你就像淘气的孩子，来，把它喝了。”
钢铁大王乖乖地把药喝了下去！
库特夫人冲每个人伤感而乖巧地微微一笑。
“没打搅你们吧？你们是不是很忙？哦，瞧那些手枪，都是些令人讨厌的、肮脏的、凶残的东西！奥斯瓦德，想想看，昨天晚上你差点被那个小偷打死了。”
“库特夫人，你没找到他时肯定吓坏了吧？”巴特尔问道。
“起初我还没想到这这些，”库特夫人坦白地说道，“这可怜的孩子，”她指了指吉米，“挨了一枪……一切都那么可怕，又那么刺激。直到贝特曼先生问我奥斯瓦德爵士在哪儿，我才想起半个小时之前他出去散步了。”
“睡不着是吗，奥斯瓦德爵士？”巴特尔问道。
“我平时睡眠很好，”奥斯瓦德爵士答道，“但我必须承认昨天晚上我一点睡意也没有。
我想出去呼吸一些夜里的空气也许对我有好处。”
“您大概是从这扇窗子出来的吧？”
难道是在想象？奥斯瓦德爵士在回答这个问题之前迟疑了一下。
“是的。”
“还穿着便鞋，”库特夫人说道，“也没换厚一点的鞋。要是没有我的照顾，你可怎么办？！”她伤心地摇了摇头。
“玛丽亚，要是你不介意的话，还是先走吧……我们还有很多事要商量呢。”
“我知道，亲爱的。我这就走。”
库特夫人退了出去，拿走了那个空杯子，就好像她刚刚往那个杯子里灌了一剂毒药给丈夫喝似的。
“好了，巴特尔，”乔治•洛马克斯说道，“事情似乎很清楚了。没错，完全清楚了。那个人开了一枪，打伤了塞西杰先生，然后扔掉武器，顺着露台沿碎石小路逃走了。”
“但如果从那儿逃走的话，照道理应该被我的手下逮住呀。”巴特尔插了一句。
“你的手下，说句不好听的话，巴特尔，似乎特别马虎。他们没发现韦德小姐进来。既然连她进来都没能发现，那么小偷从他们眼皮底下溜走也就很容易了。”
巴特尔警司张了张嘴，然后似乎又改变了主意。吉米•塞西杰好奇地看着他。他很想知道巴特尔警司究竟是怎么想的。
“一定是个跑步冠军。”这个苏格兰场的警司自鸣得意地说道。
“这话什么意思，巴特尔？”
“没别的意思，洛马克斯先生。枪响之后不到五十秒我就赶到了露台的拐角处，一个人要在我出现在房子侧面之前朝我这个方向跑那么长的一段距离，然后还要绕过碎石路的拐角，然后还要不被抓住逃走……唉，他不是跑步冠军是什么？”
“真搞不懂你是什么意思，巴特尔。你脑子里的想法……呃……我还是没搞懂。你说那个人没有穿过草坪，现在又暗示……你到底想说什么？是说那个人并没有去那条小路？依你看……呃……他跑到哪儿去了？”
巴特尔警司突然翘起大拇指，朝上指了指作为回答。
“嗯？”乔治说道。
警司这次更使劲地指了指。乔治抬起头看了看天花板。
“上去了，”巴特尔说道，“顺着常春藤往上去了。”
“瞎说，警司。不可能的。”
“并非不可能，先生。他上去过一次，完全可以再上去一次。”
“我不是说他上不去，但如果那个人想逃走的话，他绝对不会再躲回去的。”
“对他来说那是最安全的地方，洛马克斯先生。”
“但我们去看奥罗克先生的时候，他的房门是从里面锁着的呀。”
“那你们是怎么进去的？是从斯坦利爵士的房间穿过去的吧？咱们这位朋友走的也是这条路。艾琳小姐跟我说，她看见奥罗克先生的房门把手旋动过。那是咱们这位朋友第一次上去时的事。我怀疑钥匙就压在奥罗克先生的枕头底下。他第二次离开的路径显然很清楚……穿过两个房间之间的那道门，再穿过斯坦利爵士的房间——房间里当然没有人。那时斯坦利爵士和大家一样，正冲下楼梯直奔藏书室呢。所以，那位朋友一路上畅通无阻。”
“那后来他又到哪儿去了？”
巴特尔警司耸了耸他那宽大结实的双肩，开始闪烁其词。
“可以去很多地方。有可能躲进对面的一个空房间，再顺着常春藤爬下去……再从侧门溜走……或者，假如是个内贼，当然这只是说说而已……就干脆待在屋子里。”
乔治惊愕地看着他。
“真的，巴特尔，我……如果是我的仆人干的……我会深感内疚的……呃……我对他们非常信任……如果要我怀疑……我会非常痛心的……”
“没有人要你去怀疑谁，洛马克斯先生。我只是把所有的可能性都说给你听。你的仆人也许都没问题……应该没问题。”
“你把我搞得心烦意乱，”乔治说道，“烦都烦死了。”
他的眼睛越发向外鼓了。
为了转移他的注意力，吉米故意拨动着桌子上一件黑乎乎的异乎寻常的东西。
“这是什么？”他问道。
“这是最后一件物证，”巴特尔答道，“能找到的最后一件东西。它是，或者应该说，它曾经是一只手套。”
他拿起这只烧得焦黑的手套，得意地把玩着。
“你在什么地方找到的？”奥斯瓦德爵士问道。
巴特尔猛地扭头说道：
“在壁炉的炉栅上……差不多烧没了，不过还剩一点点。奇怪，好像被狗咬过了。”
“会不会是韦德小姐的狗咬的，”吉米说出了自己的意见，“她养了好几条狗。”
警司摇了摇头。
“这不是女用手套……甚至不是如今流行的小姐们戴的那种又大又宽的手套。你戴上试试，先生，就一会儿。”
他把那个焦黑的东西套在吉米的手上。
“瞧……就算你戴也太大了。”
“你觉得这个发现很重要吗？”奥斯瓦德爵士冷冷地问道。
“这可难说，奥斯瓦德爵士。谁知道这个重要还是不重要呢？”
这时猛地有人敲门，邦德尔走了进来。
“很抱歉，”她深表歉意地说道，“我爸爸刚刚打电话来，说我必须回家去，因为大家都受不了他。”
她打住了话头，不再说下去。
“怎么啦，亲爱的艾琳？”乔治知道她还有话要说。
“我本来不想来打扰你们的……只是我觉得此事可能关系重大。让我爸爸不安的是，我们家的一个听差不见了。他昨天晚上出去之后，就一直没有回去。”
“他叫什么名字？”盘问的是奥斯瓦德爵士。
“约翰•包尔。”
“英国人？”
“我想他自称是瑞士人……不过我觉得他是德国人，虽然他的英语说得十分地道。”
“哦！”奥斯瓦德爵士深吸了一口气，满意地嘘了一声，“他在烟囱别墅……有多久了？”
“不到一个月。”
奥斯瓦德爵士转而对另外两个人说道：
“这就是我们要找的那个人。洛马克斯，你和我都清楚，好几个外国政府想搞到那东西。我现在完全记起来了……是个高个子，训练有素。我们离开烟囱别墅之前大约两个星期新来的。真是高招呀。这里所有新来的仆人都要经过严格的审查，但是在烟囱别墅，离这里五英里之外……”他只说了半截。
“你觉得早就计划好了？”
“有何不可？那个配方值好几百万呢，洛马克斯。毫无疑问，在烟囱别墅时包尔就打过我的私密文件的主意了，好知道接下来会有什么安排。看来这里也有他的同伙……有人为他通风报信，还给奥罗克下药。韦德小姐看到的那个顺着常春藤往下爬的人就是包尔……大块头，力气也大。”
他转身对巴特尔警司说道：
“警司，包尔就是你要找的人。天知道怎么搞的，你竟然让他从指缝里溜走了。”
Twenty-four BUNDLE WONDERS
Twenty-four BUNDLE WONDERS
There was no doubt that Superintendent Battle was taken aback. Hefingered his chin thoughtfully.
“Sir Oswald is right, Battle,” said George. “This is the man. Any hope ofcatching him?”
“There may be, sir. It certainly looks—well, suspicious. Of course theman may turn up again—at Chimneys, I mean.”
“Do you think it likely?”
“No, it isn’t,” confessed Battle. “Yes, it certainly looks as though Bauerwere the man. But I can’t quite see how he got in and out of these groundsunobserved.”
“I have already told you my opinion of the men you posted,” saidGeorge. “Hopelessly inefficient—I don’t mean to blame you, Superintend-ent, but—” His pause was eloquent.
“Ah, well,” said Battle lightly, “my shoulders are broad.”
He shook his head and sighed.
“I must get to the telephone at once. Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m sorry,Mr. Lomax—I feel I’ve rather bungled this business, But it’s been puzzling,more puzzling than you know.”
He strode hurriedly from the room.
“Come into the garden,” said Bundle to Jimmy. “I want to talk to you.”
They went out together through the window. Jimmy stared down at thelawn, frowning.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bundle.
Jimmy explained the circumstances of the pistol throwing.
“I’m wondering,” he ended, “what was in old Battle’s mind when he gotCoote to throw the pistol. Something, I’ll swear. Anyhow, it landed upabout ten yards farther than it should have done. You know, Bundle,Battle’s a deep one.”
“He’s an extraordinary man,” said Bundle. “I want to tell you about lastnight.”
She retailed her conversation with the Superintendent. Jimmy listenedattentively.
“So the Countess is No 1,” he said thoughtfully. “It all hangs togethervery well. No 2—Bauer—comes over from Chimneys. He climbs up intoO’Rourke’s room, knowing that O’Rourke has had a sleeping draught ad-ministered to him—by the Countess somehow or other. The arrangementis that he is to throw the papers to the Countess, who will be waiting be-low. Then she’ll nip back through the library and up to her room. IfBauer’s caught leaving the grounds, they’ll find nothing on him. Yes, it wasa good plan—but it went wrong. No sooner is the Countess in the librarythan she hears me coming and has to jump behind the screen. Jolly awk-ward for her, because she can’t warn her accomplice. No 2 pinches the pa-pers, looks out of the window, sees, as he thinks, the Countess waiting,pitches the papers down to her and proceeds to climb down the ivy, wherehe finds a nasty surprise in the shape of me waiting for him. Pretty nervywork for the Countess waiting behind her screen. All things considered,she told a pretty good story. Yes, it all hangs together very well.”
“Too well,” said Bundle decidedly.
“Eh?” said Jimmy surprised.
“What about No 7 — No 7, who never appears, but lives in the back-ground. The Countess and Bauer? No, it’s not so simple as that. Bauer washere last night, yes. But he was only here in case things went wrong—asthey have done. His part is the part of scapegoat; to draw all attentionfrom No 7—the boss.”
“I say, Bundle,” said Jimmy anxiously, “you haven’t been reading toomuch sensational literature, have you?”
Bundle threw him a glance of dignified reproach.
“Well,” said Jimmy, “I’m not yet like the Red Queen. I can’t believe siximpossible things before breakfast.”
“It’s after breakfast,” said Bundle.
“Or even after breakfast. We’ve got a perfectly good hypothesis whichfits the facts—and you won’t have it at any price, simply because, like theold riddle, you want to make things more difficult.”
“I’m sorry,” said Bundle, “but I cling passionately to a mysterious No 7being a member of the house party.”
“What does Bill think?”
“Bill,” said Bundle coldly, “is impossible.”
“Oh!” said Jimmy. “I suppose you’ve told him about the Countess? Heought to be warned. Heaven knows what he’ll go blabbing about other-wise.”
“He won’t hear a word against her,” said Bundle. “He’s—oh, simply idi-otic. I wish you’d drive it home to him about that mole.”
“You forget I wasn’t in the cupboard,” said Jimmy. “And anyway I’drather not argue with Bill about his lady friend’s mole. But surely he can’tbe such an ass as not to see that everything fits in?”
“He’s every kind of ass,” said Bundle bitterly. “You made the greatestmistake, Jimmy, in ever telling him at all.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jimmy. “I didn’t see it at the time—but I do now. I was afool, but dash it all, old Bill—”
“You know what foreign adventuresses are,” said Bundle. “How they gethold of one.”
“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” said Jimmy. “One has never tried to gethold of me.” And he sighed.
For a moment or two there was silence. Jimmy was turning things overin his mind. The more he thought about them the more unsatisfactorythey seemed.
“You say that Battle wants the Countess left alone,” he said at last.
“Yes.”
“The idea being that through her he will get at someone else?”
Bundle nodded.
Jimmy frowned deeply as he tried to see where this led. Clearly Battlehad some very definite idea in his mind.
“Sir Stanley Digby went up to town early this morning, didn’t he,” hesaid.
“Yes.”
“O’Rourke with him?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“You don’t think—no, that’s impossible.”
“What?”
“That O’Rourke can be mixed up in this in any way.”
“It’s possible,” said Bundle thoughtfully. “He’s got what one calls a veryvivid personality. No, it wouldn’t surprise me if—oh, to tell the truth, noth-ing would surprise me! In fact, there’s only one person I’m really sure isn’tNo 7.”
“Who’s that?”
“Superintendent Battle.”
“Oh! I thought you were going to say George Lomax.”
“Ssh, here he comes.”
George was, indeed, bearing down upon them in an unmistakable man-ner. Jimmy made an excuse and slipped away. George sat down byBundle.
“My dear Eileen, must you really leave us?”
“Well, Father seems to have got the wind up rather badly. I think I’d bet-ter go home and hold his hand.”
“This little hand will indeed be comforting,” said George, taking it andpressing it playfully. “My dear Eileen, I understand your reasons and Ihonour you for them. In these days of changed and unsettled conditions—”
“He’s off,” thought Bundle desperately.
“—when family life is at a premium—all the old standards falling!—Itbecomes our class to set an example to show that we, at least, are unaffec-ted by modern conditions. They call us the Die Hards—I am proud of theterm—I repeat I am proud of the term! There are things that should diehard—dignity, beauty, modesty, the sanctity of family life, filial respect—who dies if these shall live? As I was saying, my dear Eileen, I envy you theprivileges of your youth. Youth! What a wonderful thing! What a wonder-ful word! And we do not appreciate it until we grow to—er—matureryears. I confess, my dear child, that I have in the past been disappointedby your levity. I see now that it was but the careless and charming levityof a child. I perceive now the serious and earnest beauty of your mind.
You will allow me, I hope, to help you with your reading?”
“Oh, thank you,” said Bundle faintly.
“And you must never be afraid of me again. I was shocked when LadyCaterham told me that you stood in awe of me. I can assure you that I ama very humdrum sort of person.”
The spectacle of George being modest struck Bundle spellbound. Georgecontinued:
“Never be shy with me, dear child. And do not be afraid of boring me. Itwill be a great delight to me to—if I may say so—form your budding mind.
I will be your political mentor. We have never needed young women oftalent and charm in the Party more than we need them today. You maywell be destined to follow in the footsteps of your aunt, Lady Caterham.”
This awful prospect knocked Bundle out completely. She could onlystare helplessly at George. This did not discourage him—on the contrary.
His main objection to women was that they talked too much. It was sel-dom that he found what he considered a really good listener. He smiledbenignly at Bundle.
“The butterfly emerging from the chrysalis. A wonderful picture. I havea very interesting work on political economy. I will look it out now, andyou can take it to Chimneys with you. When you have finished it, I will dis-cuss it with you. Do not hesitate to write to me if any point puzzles you. Ihave many public duties but by unsparing work I can always make timefor the affairs of my friends. I will look for the book.”
He strode away. Bundle gazed after him with a dazed expression. Shewas roused by the unexpected advent of Bill.
“Look here,” said Bill. “What the hell was Codders holding your handfor?”
“It wasn’t my hand,” said Bundle wildly. “It was my budding mind.”
“Don’t be an ass, Bundle.”
“Sorry, Bill, but I’m a little worried. Do you remember saying that Jimmyran a grave risk down here?”
“So he does,” said Bill. “It’s frightfully hard to escape from Codders oncehe’s got interested in you. Jimmy will be caught in the toils before heknows where he is.”
“It’s not Jimmy who’s caught—it’s me,” said Bundle wildly. “I shall haveto meet endless Mrs. Macattas, and read political economy and discuss itwith George, and heaven knows where it will end!”
Bill whistled.
“Poor old Bundle. Been laying it on a bit thick, haven’t you?”
“I must have done. Bill, I feel horribly entangled.”
“Never mind,” said Bill consolingly. “George doesn’t really believe in wo-men standing for Parliament, so you won’t have to stand up on platformsand talk a lot of junk, or kiss dirty babies in Bermondsey. Come and have acocktail. It’s nearly lunch time.”
Bundle got up and walked by his side obediently.
“And I do so hate politics,” she murmured piteously.
“Of course you do. So do all sensible people. It’s only people like Coddersand Pongo who take them seriously and revel in them. But all the same,”
said Bill, reverting suddenly to a former point, “you oughtn’t to let Coddershold your hand.”
“Why on earth not?” said Bundle. “He’s known me all my life.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Virtuous William—Oh, I say, look at Superintendent Battle.”
They were just passing in through a side door. A cupboard-like roomopened out of the little hallway. In it were kept golf clubs, tennis racquets,bowls and other features of country house life. Superintendent Battle wasconducting a minute examination of various golf clubs. He looked up alittle sheepishly at Bundle’s exclamation.
“Going to take up golf, Superintendent Battle?”
“I might do worse, Lady Eileen. They say it’s never too late to start. AndI’ve got one good quality that will tell at any game.”
“What’s that?” asked Bill.
“I don’t know when I’m beaten. If everything goes wrong, I turn to andstart again!”
And with a determined look on his face, Superintendent Battle came outand joined them, shutting the door behind him.
第二十四章 邦德尔疑惑不解
第二十四章 邦德尔疑惑不解
毫无疑问，巴特尔警司大吃一惊，他若有所思地摸了摸下巴。
“奥斯瓦德爵士说得对，巴特尔，”乔治说道，“就是这个人。有希望抓住他吗？”
“可能吧，先生。看起来……唉，的确很可疑。当然啦，他也许会再露面的……我是说在烟囱别墅。”
“你觉得有可能吗？”
“不，可能性不大。”巴特尔承认，“不错，看起来确实像是包尔干的，但我不明白，我们怎么没发现他进出庭院？”
“我已经跟你说了，你安排的那些暗哨，”乔治说道，“太马虎了……我没有责备你的意思，警司，不过……”他意味深长地不再说下去。
“哦，没事，”巴特尔轻描淡写地说道，“我的宽肩还算担负得起。”
他摇了摇头，叹了口气。
“我要去打个电话。失陪了，先生们。抱歉，洛马克斯先生……我觉得我把事儿办砸了。不过这事太伤脑筋，比你想象的还要伤脑筋。”
他急匆匆地快步离去。
“到花园去，”邦德尔对吉米说道，“我有话要跟你说。”
他们俩一道走了出去，吉米凝视着下面的草坪，皱起了眉头。
“怎么啦？”邦德尔问道。
吉米把刚才扔手枪的事情详细叙述了一遍。
“我在想，”他最后说道，“巴特尔为什么要库特去扔手枪呢？这里面一定有鬼名堂。总之，手枪落下来的地方大约远了十码。邦德尔，巴特尔可是个很有城府的人。”
“他的确是个非同寻常的人物，”邦德尔说道，“我要跟你说说昨天晚上的事。”
她转述了一遍她与警司之间的对话。吉米认真地听着。
“这么说伯爵夫人就是一点钟，”他若有所思地说道，“嗯，全都对上了。二点钟……包尔……是从烟囱别墅过来的。他顺着常春藤往上爬，溜进奥罗克的房间，知道奥罗克已经喝下了伯爵夫人下的安眠药。他们的计划是包尔将偷到的文件扔给在下面接应的伯爵夫人，然后伯爵夫人再马上返回藏书室，从藏书室回到楼上自己的房间。如果包尔在逃跑时被抓住了，别人在他身上也搜不出东西来。嗯，的确是个不错的计划……只不过出了岔子。伯爵夫人一到藏书室，就听见我过来了，不得不躲到屏风后面。她肯定非常恼火，因为她没办法通知同伙。两点钟偷到文件后，往窗外张望，以为下面的人就是伯爵夫人，于是就把文件扔下去了，然后打算顺着常春藤往下爬。不料，他却意外地发现我已经在那里等着了。伯爵夫人躲在屏风后面，那滋味一定不好受。总的来看，她编的故事实在是太精彩了。嗯，所有的一切都很清楚了。”
“清楚过头了。”邦德尔明确地说道。
“啊？”吉米疑惑地问道。
“七点钟呢……七点钟一直没露面，而是在幕后操纵。伯爵夫人和包尔？不，没那么简单。没错，包尔昨天晚上是在这里。但他在这里只是为了防备出岔子……就像这次出的岔子。他只是个替罪羊，是为了转移视线，避免别人对七点钟……也就是老板……的怀疑。”
“我说，邦德尔，”吉米不安地说道，“你是不是惊险小说看太多了？”
邦德尔严肃地瞥了他一眼，眼神中有责备的意味。
“得啦，”吉米说道，“我还不像红心皇后。我不信吃早饭之前会发生六件不可能的事[1] 。”
“现在已经吃过早饭了。”邦德尔挖苦道。
“就算吃过早饭我也不信。我们已经有了一个完美的解释，与事实相符……可你偏偏就不信，就是因为你非要把事情想得更复杂，像猜那些老掉牙的谜语一样，好像这样才比较过瘾。”
“对不起，”邦德尔说道，“不过我坚信神秘的七点钟就是这次晚会的客人之一。”
“比尔怎么想？”
“比尔，”邦德尔冷冷地说道，“真是拿他没办法。”
“噢！”吉米说道，“我猜你大概跟他说过伯爵夫人的事了吧？应该警告他一下，否则天知道他又会瞎说些什么。”
“凡是说她不好的话，他一句也听不进，”邦德尔说道，“他……唉，简直是个白痴。我希望你能把那颗痣的事跟他讲清楚。”
“你忘了我可没躲在壁橱里，”吉米说道，“再说啦，不管怎样，我也不愿意为了他女朋友身上的那颗痣跟他吵翻。不过可以肯定的是，他总不至于蠢到黑白不分吧。”
“他纯粹就是一个白痴，”邦德尔刻薄地说道，“吉米，就算你向他透露一点点，你也大错特错了。”
“抱歉，”吉米说道，“当时我还没意识到……不过现在我明白了。我真是个傻瓜，真该死，比尔老弟……”
“你应该知道那些外国女冒险家的手段。”邦德尔说道。
“老实说我不知道，”吉米答道，“还没有人来勾引过我。”他叹了口气。
有一阵子两人都没说话。
吉米正琢磨着事情的前因后果，他越想，就越觉得不对。
“巴特尔跟你说不要去惊动伯爵夫人？”他终于开口说道。
“嗯。”
“是想通过她抓到别的人？”
邦德尔点了点头。
吉米紧锁眉头，想搞清楚到底是怎么回事。显然，巴特尔已经有了非常明确的想法。
“斯坦利•迪格比爵士今天早上很早就回城里去了，是吗？”他问道。
“是的。”
“奥罗克跟他一块儿去的？”
“我想是吧。”
“你不觉得……不，这不可能！”“什么不可能？”
“奥罗克也有问题。”
“有可能，”邦德尔若有所思地说道，“他有一种所谓很活泼的个性。不，我肯定不会惊讶，如果……唉，老实说，什么也不会让我惊讶的！其实，我只敢肯定一个人不是七点钟。”
“谁？”
“巴特尔警司。”
“唉！我还以为你说的是乔治•洛马克斯呢。”
“嘘……他来了。”
乔治确实是朝着他们过来了。见吉米借故走开了，乔治便紧挨着邦德尔坐了下来。
“亲爱的艾琳，你真的一定要离开吗？”
“嗯，爸爸好像非常担心。我想还是回去握着他的手，安慰安慰他比较好。”
“这只小手的确能给人慰藉，”乔治拿起她的手摩挲着，“亲爱的艾琳，我理解你的心意，而且深为叹服。在如今这个变化无常的时代……”
“他肯定是精神失常了。”邦德尔绝望地想道。
“……家庭生活太难能可贵了……一切的传统规范都崩溃了！……应该由我们这个阶层的人来树立一个榜样，表明至少还有我们这类人没有受到现代环境的影响。他们管我叫老顽固……对这个称呼我引以为豪……我真的感到非常光荣！有些东西就是要顽固到底……尊严、美、谦虚、神圣的家庭生活、孝顺……这些东西要是没有了，生活还有什么意义？
亲爱的艾琳，正如我说的，我嫉妒你的年轻赋予你的特权。年轻！多么美妙啊！多么美妙的字眼呀！我们只有长大……嗯……成人，才懂得它的宝贵。亲爱的孩子，我承认以前我对你的轻率和冒失感到失望，现在我发现它只是一个孩子才有的恣意妄为，现在我感觉到了你心灵中的庄重和诚挚之美。我希望，你能让我帮助你读书和学习。”
“噢，谢谢您。”邦德尔敷衍地说道。
“而且，你再也不要怕我了。凯特勒姆侯爵夫人跟我说你害怕我，真是让我大吃一惊。
我可以向你保证，我只是一个非常平凡的人。”
乔治一副谦逊的样子，着实打动了邦德尔。乔治接着说道：
“亲爱的孩子，在我面前不要害羞，有什么事尽管直说，不要担心会麻烦我。能够塑造你崭露头角的头脑……如果可以这么说的话……那将带给我莫大的快乐。我会成为你政治上的领路人。如今，我们的政党迫切需要像你这样的既有才能又有魅力的年轻女性，你注定就是你的伯母凯特勒姆侯爵夫人的接班人。”
这个可怕的期待几乎令邦德尔晕倒，她只好无可奈何直愣愣地盯着他。但这并没有让他灰心丧气——恰恰相反。他不喜欢女性的主要原因就是她们话太多了。他很少遇到他觉得不错而且愿意倾听的女士，于是他亲切地冲着邦德尔笑了笑。
“破茧化蝶，多美妙的一幅图景。我有一本非常有趣的政治经济学著作。我现在就去找，你可以带到烟囱别墅去。看完之后，我们再来讨论。如果有疑问，尽管给我写信。虽然我有很多公务，但只要是朋友的事，再忙我也能抽出时间来。我这就去找。”
他昂首阔步地走开了。邦德尔目送着他的背影，一脸茫然。直到比尔突然冒出来，她才回过神来。
“听我说，”比尔问道，“老鳕鱼握住你的手究竟想干什么？”
“那不是我的手，”邦德尔忿忿地说道，“是我崭露头角的头脑。”
“别犯傻了，邦德尔。”
“对不起，比尔，不过我有点担心。你还记得你说过吉米来这儿是冒着很大的风险吗？”
“不错，他是在冒险，”比尔说道，“一旦老鳕鱼对你有了兴趣，你要想脱身就难上加难了。到时候吉米还没弄清楚是怎么回事就会被套牢的。”
“被套的不是吉米……是我，”邦德尔生气地说道，“我将不得不没完没了地去见麦卡塔夫人，去读政治经济学，还要跟乔治进行讨论，天知道哪儿才是尽头！”
比尔长叹了口气。
“可怜的邦德尔，你说的有点言过其实了吧？”
“肯定会这样。比尔，我觉得自己陷得太深了。”
“别担心，”比尔安慰道，“乔治并不赞成女性加入议会，所以你也用不着上台胡说八道，或者到贫民窟亲吻脏兮兮的婴儿。走吧，去喝杯鸡尾酒。差不多该吃午饭了。”
邦德尔站起身来，顺从地走到他旁边。
“我真的很讨厌政治。”她可怜巴巴地咕哝道。
“那当然，所有有理智的人都讨厌。只有像老鳕鱼和黑猩猩那样的人才会当真，而且陶醉其中。但不管怎么说，”比尔又转回到了前面的话题，“你还是不该让老鳕鱼碰你的手。”
“为什么？”邦德尔说道，“他是看着我长大的。”
“哦，我不喜欢。”
“我纯洁的比尔……嗨，瞧，巴特尔警司。”
他俩正要穿过一道侧门。门厅外面有一个类似储藏室的小房间，里面放着高尔夫球杆、网球拍、保龄球和其他一些乡村宅邸常见的休闲用具。巴特尔警司正在仔细翻检各式各样的高尔夫球杆。听见邦德尔的叫声，他有些困窘地抬头看了看。
“要去打高尔夫球吗，巴特尔警司？”
“我打得很糟，艾琳小姐。不过只要开始做，就还不算晚。而且，我还具备一种任何运动都需要的素质。”
“什么素质？”比尔问道。
“不认输。如果一败涂地，我会马上从头开始！”
巴特尔警司的脸上现出坚毅的神情，他从小房间里走出来加入他们的行列，随手关上了门。
[1]这里的“红心皇后”暗指美国侦探作家、以逻辑解谜闻名的埃勒里•奎因。
Twenty-five JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS
Twenty-five JIMMY LAYS HIS PLANS

Jimmy Thesiger was feeling depressed. Avoiding George, whom he suspec-ted of being ready to tackle him on serious subjects, he stole quietly awayafter lunch. Proficient as he was in details of the Santa Fé boundary dis-pute, he had no wish to stand an examination on it this minute.
Presently what he hoped would happen came to pass. Loraine Wade,also unaccompanied, strolled down one of the shady garden paths. In amoment Jimmy was by her side. They walked for some minutes in silenceand then Jimmy said tentatively:
“Loraine?”
“Yes?”
“Look here, I’m a bad chap at putting things—but what about it? What’swrong with getting a special licence and being married and living togetherhappily ever afterwards?”
Loraine displayed no embarrassment at this surprising proposal. In-stead she threw back her head and laughed frankly.
“Don’t laugh at a chap,” said Jimmy reproachfully.
“I can’t help it. You were so funny.”
“Loraine—you are a little devil.”
“I’m not. I’m what’s called a thoroughly nice girl.”
“Only to those who don’t know you—who are taken in by your delusiveappearance of meekness and decorum.”
“I like your long words.”
“All out of crossword puzzles.”
“So educative.”
“Loraine, dear, don’t beat about the bush. Will you or won’t you?”
Loraine’s face sobered. It took on its characteristic appearance of de-termination. Her small mouth hardened and her little chin shot out ag-gressively.
“No, Jimmy. Not while things are as they are at present—all unfinished.”
“I know we haven’t done what we set out to do,” agreed Jimmy. “But allthe same—well, it’s the end of a chapter. The papers are safe at the AirMinistry. Virtue triumphant. And—for the moment—nothing doing.”
“So—let’s get married?” said Loraine with a slight smile.
“You’ve said it. Precisely the idea.”
But again Loraine shook her head.
“No, Jimmy. Until this thing’s wound up—until we’re safe—”
“You think we’re in danger?”
“Don’t you?”
Jimmy’s cherubic pink face clouded over.
“You’re right,” he said at last. “If that extraordinary rigmarole ofBundle’s is true—and I suppose, incredible as it sounds, it must be true—then we’re not safe till we’ve settled with No 7!”
“And the others?”
“No—the others don’t count. It’s No 7 with his own ways of working thatfrightens me. Because I don’t know who he is or where to look for him.”
Loraine shivered.
“I’ve been frightened,” she said in a low voice. “Ever since Gerry’s death.
.?.?.”
“You needn’t be frightened. There’s nothing for you to be frightenedabout. You leave everything to me. I tell you, Loraine—I’ll get No 7 yet.
Once we get him—well, I don’t think there’ll be much trouble with the restof the gang, whoever they are.”
“If you get him—and suppose he gets you?”
“Impossible,” said Jimmy cheerfully. “I’m much too clever. Always havea good opinion of yourself—that’s my motto.”
“When I think of the things that might have happened last night—” Lo-raine shivered.
“Well, they didn’t,” said Jimmy. “We’re both here, safe and sound —though I must admit my arm is confoundedly painful.”
“Poor boy.”
“Oh, one must expect to suffer in a good cause. And what with mywounds and my cheerful conversation, I’ve made a complete conquest ofLady Coote.”
“Oh! Do you think that important?”
“I’ve an idea it may come in useful.”
“You’ve got some plan in your mind, Jimmy. What is it?”
“The young hero never tells his plans,” said Jimmy firmly. “They maturein the dark.”
“You are an idiot, Jimmy.”
“I know. I know. That’s what everyone says. But I can assure you, Lo-raine, there’s a lot of brain work going on underneath. Now what aboutyour plans? Got any?”
“Bundle has suggested that I should go to Chimneys with her for a bit.”
“Excellent,” said Jimmy approvingly. “Nothing could be better. I’d likean eye kept on Bundle anyway. You never know what mad thing she won’tget up to next. She’s so frightfully unexpected. And the worst of it is, she’sso astonishingly successful. I tell you, keeping Bundle out of mischief is awhole-time job.”
“Bill ought to look after her,” suggested Loraine.
“Bill’s pretty busy elsewhere.”
“Don’t you believe it,” said Loraine.
“What? Not the Countess? But the lad’s potty about her.” Loraine contin-ued to shake her head.
“There’s something there I don’t quite understand. But it’s not theCountess with Bill—it’s Bundle. Why, this morning, Bill was talking to mewhen Mr. Lomax came out and sat down by Bundle. He took her hand orsomething, and Bill was off like—like a rocket.”
“What a curious taste some people have,” observed Mr. Thesiger. “Fancyanyone who was talking to you wanting to do anything else. But you sur-prise me very much, Loraine. I thought our simple Bill was enmeshed inthe toils of the beautiful foreign adventuress. Bundle thinks so, I know.”
“Bundle may,” said Loraine. “But I tell you, Jimmy, it isn’t so.”
“Then what’s the big idea?”
“Don’t you think it possible that Bill is doing a bit of sleuthing on hisown?”
“Bill? He hasn’t got the brains.”
“I’m not so sure. When a simple, muscular person like Bill does set outto be subtle, no one ever gives him credit for it.”
“And in consequence he can put in some good work. Yes, there’s some-thing in that. But all the same I’d never have thought it of Bill. He’s doingthe Countess’s little woolly lamb to perfection. I think you’re wrong, youknow, Loraine. The Countess is an extraordinarily beautiful woman—notmy type of course,” put in Mr. Thesiger hastily—“and old Bill has alwayshad a heart like an hotel.”
Loraine shook her head, unconvinced.
“Well,” said Jimmy, “have it your own way. We seem to have more orless settled things. You go back with Bundle to Chimneys, and for heaven’ssake keep her from poking about in that Seven Dials place again. Heavenknows what will happen if she does.”
Loraine nodded.
“And now,” said Jimmy, “I think a few words with Lady Coote would beadvisable.”
Lady Coote was sitting on a garden seat doing woolwork. The subjectwas a disconsolate and somewhat misshapen young woman weeping overan urn.
Lady Coote made room for Jimmy by her side, and he promptly, being atactful young man, admired her work.
“Do you like it?” said Lady Coote, pleased. “It was begun by my AuntSelina the week before she died. Cancer of the liver, poor thing.”
“How beastly,” said Jimmy.
“And how is the arm?”
“Oh, it’s feeling quite all right. Bit of a nuisance and all that, you know.”
“You’ll have to be careful,” said Lady Coote in a warning voice. “I’veknown blood poisoning set in—and in that case you might lose your armaltogether.”
“Oh! I say, I hope not.”
“I’m only warning you,” said Lady Coote.
“Where are you hanging out now?” inquired Mr. Thesiger. “Town—orwhere?”
Considering that he knew the answer to his query perfectly well, he putthe question with a praiseworthy amount of ingenuousness.
Lady Coote sighed heavily.
“Sir Oswald has taken the Duke of Alton’s place. Letherbury. You knowit, perhaps?”
“Oh, rather. Topping place, isn’t it?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Lady Coote. “It’s a very large place, and gloomy,you know. Rows of picture galleries with such forbidding-looking people.
What they call Old Masters are very depressing, I think. You should haveseen a little house we had in Yorkshire, Mr. Thesiger. When Sir Oswaldwas plain Mr. Coote. Such a nice lounge hall and a cheerful drawing roomwith an ingle-nook—a white striped paper with a frieze of wisteria I chosefor it, I remember. Satin stripe, you know, not moiré. Much better taste, Ialways think. The dining room faced northeast, so we didn’t get much sunin it, but with a good bright scarlet paper and a set of those comic huntingprints—why, it was as cheerful as Christmas.”
In the excitement of these reminiscences, Lady Coote dropped severallittle balls of wool, which Jimmy dutifully retrieved.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Coote. “Now, what was I saying? Oh—about houses—yes, I do like a cheerful house. And choosing things for itgives you an interest.”
“I suppose Sir Oswald will be buying a place of his own one of thesedays,” suggested Jimmy. “And then you can have it just as you like.”
Lady Coote shook her head sadly.
“Sir Oswald talks of a firm doing it—and you know what that means.”
“Oh! But they’d consult you!”
“It would be one of those grand places—all for the antique. They’d lookdown on the things I call comfortable and homey. Not but that Sir Oswaldwasn’t very comfortable and satisfied in his home always, and I daresayhis tastes are just the same underneath. But nothing will suit him now butthe best! He’s got on wonderfully, and naturally he wants something toshow for it, but many’s the time I wonder where it will end.”
Jimmy looked sympathetic.
“It’s like a runaway horse,” said Lady Coote. “Got the bit between itsteeth and away it goes. It’s the same with Sir Oswald. He’s got on, and he’sgot on, till he can’t stop getting on. He’s one of the richest men in England—but does that satisfy him? No, he wants still more. He wants to be—Idon’t know what he wants to be! I can tell you, it frightens me sometimes!”
“Like the Persian Johnny,” said Jimmy, “who went about wailing forfresh worlds to conquer.”
Lady Coote nodded acquiescence without much knowing what Jimmywas talking about.
“What I wonder is—will his stomach stand it?” she went on tearfully.
“To have him an invalid—with his ideas—oh, it won’t bear thinking of.”
“He looks very hearty,” said Jimmy consolingly.
“He’s got something on his mind,” said Lady Coote. “Worried that’s whathe is. I know.”
“What’s he worried about?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps something at the works. It’s a great comfort forhim having Mr. Bateman. Such an earnest young man—and so conscien-tious.”
“Marvellously conscientious,” agreed Jimmy.
“Oswald thinks a lot of Mr. Bateman’s judgement. He says that Mr. Bate-man is always right.”
“That was one of his worst characteristics years ago,” said Jimmy feel-ingly.
Lady Coote looked slightly puzzled.
“That was an awfully jolly weekend I had with you at Chimneys,” saidJimmy. “I mean it would have been awfully jolly if it hadn’t been for poorold Gerry kicking the bucket. Jolly nice girls.”
“I find girls very perplexing,” said Lady Coote. “Not romantic, you know.
Why, I embroidered some handkerchiefs for Sir Oswald with my own hairwhen we were engaged.”
“Did you?” said Jimmy. “How marvellous. But I suppose girls haven’t gotlong hair to do that nowadays.”
“That’s true,” admitted Lady Coote. “But, oh, it shows in lots of otherways. I remember when I was a girl, one of my—well, my young men—picked up a handful of gravel, and a girl who was with me said at oncethat he was treasuring it because my feet had trodden on it. Such a prettyidea, I thought. Though it turned out afterwards that he was taking acourse in mineralogy—or do I mean geology?—at a technical school. But Iliked the idea—and stealing a girl’s handkerchief and treasuring it—allthose sort of things.”
“Awkward if the girl wanted to blow her nose,” said the practical Mr.
Thesiger.
Lady Coote laid down her woolwork and looked searchingly but kindlyat him.
“Come now,” she said. “Isn’t there some nice girl that you fancy? Thatyou’d like to work and make a little home for?”
Jimmy blushed and mumbled.
“I thought you got on very well with one of those girls at Chimneys thattime—Vera Daventry.”
“Socks?”
“They do call her that,” admitted Lady Coote. “I can’t think why. It isn’tpretty.”
“Oh, she’s a topper,” said Jimmy. “I’d like to meet her again.”
“She’s coming down to stay with us next weekend.”
“Is she?” said Jimmy, trying to infuse a large amount of wistful longinginto the two words.
“Yes. Would—would you like to come?”
“I would,” said Jimmy heartily. “Thanks ever so much, Lady Coote.”
And reiterating fervent thanks, he left her.
Sir Oswald presently joined his wife.
“What has that young jackanapes been boring you about?” he deman-ded. “I can’t stand that young fellow.”
“He’s a dear boy,” said Lady Coote. “And so brave. Look how he gotwounded last night.”
“Yes, messing around where he’d no business to be.”
“I think you’re very unfair, Oswald.”
“Never done an honest day’s work in his life. A real waster if there everwas one. He’d never get on if he had his way to make in the world.”
“You must have got your feet damp last night,” said Lady Coote. “I hopeyou won’t get pneumonia. Freddie Richards died of it the other day. Dearme, Oswald, it makes my blood run cold to think of you wandering aboutwith a dangerous burglar loose in the grounds. He might have shot you.
I’ve asked Mr. Thesiger down for next weekend, by the way.”
“Nonsense,” said Sir Oswald. “I won’t have that young man in my house,do you hear, Maria?”
“Why not?”
“That’s my business.”
“I’m so sorry, dear,” said Lady Coote placidly. “I’ve asked him now, so itcan’t be helped. Pick up that ball of pink wool, will you, Oswald?”
Sir Oswald complied, his face black as thunder. He looked at his wifeand hesitated. Lady Coote was placidly threading her wool needle.
“I particularly don’t want Thesiger down next weekend,” he said at last.
“I’ve heard a good deal about him from Bateman. He was at school withhim.”
“What did Mr. Bateman say?”
“He’d no good to say of him. In fact, he warned me very seriouslyagainst him.”
“He did, did he?” said Lady Coote thoughtfully.
“And I have the highest respect for Bateman’s judgement. I’ve neverknown him wrong.”
“Dear me,” said Lady Coote. “What a mess I seem to have made ofthings. Of course, I should never have asked him if I had known. Youshould have told me all this before, Oswald. It’s too late now.”
She began to roll up her work very carefully. Sir Oswald looked at her,made as if to speak, then shrugged his shoulders. He followed her into thehouse. Lady Coote, walking ahead, wore a very faint smile on her face. Shewas fond of her husband, but she was also fond—in a quiet, unobtrusive,wholly womanly manner—of getting her own way.
第二十五章 吉米的计划
第二十五章 吉米的计划
此刻吉米•塞西杰觉得自己有些情绪低落。他猜想乔治拉住他一定会大谈特谈一些严肃的话题，所以吃过午饭，他就悄悄溜走了。虽然他对圣菲边境争端的细节了如指掌，但他不希望有人在这个时候来考他。
这时，他希望的事发生了。洛兰•韦德独自沿着花园的林荫小道款款而来。吉米立即迎上前去。他们默默地走了一会儿，然后吉米试探地说道：
“洛兰……”
“嗯？”
“听我说，我这个人不太会说话……不过，你觉得怎么样？我们弄一张结婚证，以后快快乐乐地在一起，不好吗？”
洛兰对这突如其来的求婚没有显露出丝毫尴尬，反而头往后一仰，哈哈大笑起来。
“别笑啦。”吉米有些生气地说道。
“人家忍不住。你真逗。”
“洛兰……你真是个小魔头。”
“才不是呢。我是大家眼里无可挑剔的完美女孩。”
“只是对不了解你的人来说才是……他们都被你那温柔端庄的外表给蒙骗了。”
“我喜欢你说的这一大串话。”
“都是从拼字游戏学过来的。”
“听起来蛮有文化嘛。”
“洛兰，亲爱的，不要兜圈子了。你愿不愿意？”
洛兰开始严肃起来，脸上流露出她特有的坚定表情。她的小嘴巴紧紧地抿着，小小的下巴也显得尖了出来。
“不，吉米。现在还不行……事情还没结束呢。”
“我知道我们的目标还没实现，”吉米同意她的说法，“不过无所谓嘛……总算告一段落了。文件还在航空部长手里，正义战胜了邪恶。而且……现在……也无事可干。”
“所以……你我就结婚？”洛兰微微一笑。
“说对了，我就是这么想的。”
但洛兰还是摇了摇头。
“不，吉米。等这事完了……等我们安然无恙了再说。”
“你觉得我们有危险？”
“难道你看不出来？”
吉米那张粉红色的圆脸阴沉下来。
“你说得对，”他终于说道，“如果邦德尔说的那个冒险故事是真的……虽然匪夷所思，但我想肯定确有其事……那只有等到抓住了七点钟，我们才会安全！”
“其他人呢？”
“其他人不重要。我最害怕的是神出鬼没的七点钟。我不知道他是谁，不知道到哪儿找得到他。”
洛兰不禁哆嗦了一下。
“我一直害怕，”她低声说道，“自从格里死后……”
“你不用害怕，没什么好怕的。一切交给我好了。我跟你说，洛兰……我迟早会逮住七点钟的。一旦我们逮住了他……呃，不管他的同伙是谁，就都好办了。”
“你说要逮住他……万一他逮住了你呢？”
“不可能，”吉米笑呵呵地说道，“我这个人聪明绝顶。始终要看好自己……这是我的座右铭。”
“可我一想到昨天晚上险些发生的事……”洛兰浑身哆嗦着说道。
“唉，不是没发生吗？”吉米说道，“我们俩不是都在这儿，好端端的吗？……不过我得承认我的胳膊痛得要命。”
“可怜人。”
“唉，好事多磨。凭借我的受伤和令人愉快的交谈，我已经博得了库特夫人的好感。”
“啊！你认为这很重要吗？”
“我有个预感，到时候可能派得上用场的。”
“吉米，你是不是已经有了计划？能告诉我吗？”
“小英雄从来不会跟别人吹嘘，”吉米坚决地说道，“都暗中进行。”
“你真是个白痴，吉米。”
“我知道，我知道。大家都这么说。不过我可以向你保证，洛兰，这都是经过深思熟虑的。能不能说说你的计划，有吗？”
“邦德尔建议我跟她到烟囱别墅去住一阵子。”
“好极了，”吉米赞同地说道，“真是再好不过了。我一直希望能看住邦德尔，你根本不知道接下来她会干出什么傻事来。她总是令人防不胜防，最糟的是，每一次她都侥幸成功。我跟你说，防备邦德尔铤而走险可来不得半点疏忽。”
“比尔应该去看管她。”洛兰建议道。
“比尔在忙别的事呢。”
“你可别信以为真。”洛兰说道。
“什么？不会是伯爵夫人吧？那小子确实被她迷住了。”
洛兰依然摇头。
“有些事情我弄不明白，但不是伯爵夫人跟比尔的事……而是邦德尔跟比尔。今天早上比尔正在跟我说话的时候，洛马克斯先生跟邦德尔坐在一起，还握住了她的手。比尔知道了，肺都要气炸了。”
“有些人真是够奇怪的，”塞西杰先生总结道，“一面跟你说话，一面却想着别的事。不过，洛兰，你说的这个情况还是让我吃惊。我原本以为我们头脑简单的比尔被那个外国女冒险家给迷住了。我知道邦德尔就是这么想的。”
“邦德尔可能会这么想，”洛兰说道，“不过我跟你说，吉米，其实不是这样的。”
“你有什么高见？”
“你不觉得比尔有可能在独自‘办案’吗？”
“比尔？他没那个脑子。”
“我可不敢这么肯定。像比尔那样表面看起来头脑简单、四肢发达的人，要是玩起深沉来，没人会认为他能够深沉到哪儿去。”
“结果他就能干出一番惊天动地的事业来？不错，有点道理。但是我仍然不相信比尔会这样。他千方百计想讨伯爵夫人的欢心。唉，我觉得你错了，洛兰。伯爵夫人是百里挑一的绝色美女……当然，不是我喜欢的类型，”塞西杰先生赶忙补充了一句，“比尔这家伙又像是旅馆一样，来者不拒。”
洛兰摇了摇头，并没有被说服。
“好啦，”吉米说道，“随便你怎么想吧。有些事情多少也算是有了着落。你跟邦德尔一起回烟囱别墅去，千万不要再让她打七面钟俱乐部的主意。如果她再去，天晓得会出什么事。”
洛兰点了点头。
“现在，”吉米说道，“我应该去跟库特夫人聊一会儿了。”
库特夫人此时正坐在花园里的一把椅子上织毛线，织的是一个忧伤且有些丑陋的年轻女子正在哭坟。
库特夫人挪了挪身子，让吉米在身旁坐下。吉米立刻委婉地夸赞起她的手艺来。
“你喜欢吗？”库特夫人高兴地说道，“是我姑妈塞莉娜死前一周开始织的。她得了肝癌，真可怜。”
“太惨了。”吉米说道。
“你的胳膊好些没？”
“哦，好多了。就是有些烦。”
“你还是要当心，”库特夫人告诫道，“我听说有败血症……要是那样，整条胳膊就可能保不住了。”
“噢！但愿不要这样。”
“我只是提醒提醒。”库特夫人说道。
“您现在住哪儿？”塞西杰先生问道，“城里，还是……”
吉米知道自己是明知故问，所以他装出一副天真无邪的样子。
只见库特夫人重重地叹了口气。
“奥斯瓦德爵士已经租了奥尔顿公爵的房子，在莱瑟伯利。你也许知道那个地方吧？”
“噢，当然。非常好，不是吗？”
“哦，我不知道，”库特夫人说道，“地方非常大，也很幽暗。有好几排画像，上面的人都是表情严厉、让人望而生畏。看来这幢房子的祖辈老爷都有令人压抑的性格。塞西杰先生，你应该看看我们在约克郡的那幢小房子。那时候奥斯瓦德爵士还没有受封，还是普普通通的库特先生。多好的一间休息厅啊，还有爽心悦目的客厅，里面有个壁炉……墙上贴的是带紫藤饰带的白条纹墙纸，还是我挑的呢。我说，是缎纹的，不是波纹，效果要好多了。餐厅朝东北方向，虽然晒不到多少太阳，但因为贴了鲜艳的红色墙纸，还挂了一套挺逗的狩猎图……哎哟，整个欢快的气氛就像是过圣诞节。”
库特夫人兴奋地沉浸在回忆之中，几个小毛线球也从手里掉了下来。当然，吉米又一个个把它们捡起来。
“谢谢你，亲爱的孩子，”库特夫人说道，“对了，我说到哪儿了？噢！……在说房子……嗯，我确实喜欢令人愉快的房子，而且，挑选东西来装扮房子也很有趣。”
“我猜奥斯瓦德爵士最近就会买一块属于自己的地方吧，”吉米试探地说道，“到时候你想怎么布置就怎么布置了。”
库特夫人忧伤地摇了摇头。
“奥斯瓦德爵士跟我说他会交给一家公司来做……你知道那意味着什么。”
“噢！可他们还得听你的意见呀！”
“打算买一座气派的老宅子，他们看不上我喜欢的温馨舒适的、像个家的地方。就算奥斯瓦德爵士在自己家里总是觉得不舒服、不满意，但我敢说他的审美其实也很低下。如今，除了所谓最好的东西，没有一样他会满意！他已经飞黄腾达了，自然想弄点东西来显摆一下。我常常想，哪儿才是个头啊！”
吉米摆出一副深表同情的样子。
“就像一匹脱缰的马，”库特夫人说道，“咬着嚼子一路狂奔。奥斯瓦德爵士现在就是这个样子。他还在一个劲地往前冲，总有一天，他会想停也停不下来的。他现在已经是全英格兰最有钱的人了……可这会让他满足吗？不，他还想要更多。他想要成为……我也不清楚他想要成为什么！我跟你说，有时候我真有些害怕！”
“就像波斯人约翰尼，”吉米说道，“到处寻找新世界要去征服。”
库特夫人点了点头，虽然她并不清楚吉米讲的是什么。
“我纳闷……这么多的东西，他的胃受得了吗？”她带着哭腔接着说道，“就像鬼迷心窍……唉，想起来就叫人受不了。”
“他看起来胃口很不错。”吉米安慰道。
“他有心事，”库特夫人说道，“整天忧心忡忡，我知道。”
“他担心什么？”
“这个我倒不清楚，或许是工厂的事。好在有贝特曼先生帮忙。小伙子不仅热心……而且认真负责。”
“认真极了。”吉米赞同地说道。
“奥斯瓦德很看重贝特曼先生的判断力。他说贝特曼总是对的。”
“那是他很久以前最糟糕的一个方面。”吉米感慨地说道。
库特夫人露出了一丝不解的神情。
“上次在烟囱别墅过的那个周末真是愉快极了，”吉米说道，“我是说，要不是可怜的格里老弟偏偏在那个时候死了，肯定会愉快极了。那些女孩也不赖。”
“我发现现在的女孩真让人琢磨不透，”库特夫人说道，“一点也不浪漫。我跟奥斯瓦德爵士订婚的时候，我还用我的头发在手帕上为他绣上姓名呢。”
“是吗？”吉米说道，“太绝了。也许现在的女孩不留长发，所以没办法像你那样。”
“倒也是，”库特夫人承认道，“不过，唉，还有其他很多办法呀。我记得我还是姑娘的时候，我的一个……呃，小伙子……从地上捡起一把小石子。当时跟我在一起的那个姑娘马上就对我说，他想把它们珍藏起来，因为我的脚在上面踩过。真浪漫，我当时就想。虽然后来我才知道他那时正在上矿物学的课……也许是地质学……在一所技术学校。不过我喜欢那样的想法……把女孩的手帕偷来珍藏……还有类似的事情。”
“要是女孩想要擤鼻涕那就难堪了。”讲求实际的塞西杰先生说道。
库特夫人放下手中的毛线活儿，和蔼地瞅着他。
“得了吧，”她问道，“你是不是喜欢上了某个女孩？想跟她组建个小家庭过日子？”
吉米的脸一下子通红，含含糊糊也不知说了些什么。
“在烟囱别墅的时候，我觉得你跟一个女孩处得很不错……叫维拉•达文特里。”
“您说的是袜子？”
“他们都这样叫她，”库特夫人承认道，“我也不知为什么，但这个名字很不雅。”
“噢，她是个出类拔萃的女孩子，”吉米说道，“我很想再见到她。”
“下个周末她要到我们家来。”
“是吗？”吉米说道，尽力表现出渴望的神情。
“是的。你……你想来吗？”
“我很想来，”吉米诚恳地说道，“真是太谢谢您了，库特夫人。”
他再三道谢，这才离去。
不久，奥斯瓦德爵士来到了他妻子的身边。
“那个小混混在跟你啰嗦些什么？”他问道，“我看他不顺眼。”
“他可是个很可爱的孩子，”库特夫人答道，“而且那么勇敢。你瞧人家，昨天晚上还受了伤呢。”
“是啊，谁叫他爱管闲事到处乱跑。”
“你对他太不公平了，奥斯瓦德。”
“他这一辈子就没干过一件正经事儿，就是个废物。他要是再这样下去，永远也出不了头。”
“昨天晚上你肯定着凉了吧，”库特夫人说道，“你可不要得了肺炎。前几天弗雷迪•理查兹就是得肺炎死的。哎呀，奥斯瓦德，一想到昨天晚上那个危险的窃贼，而你还在那里闲逛，我就手脚冰凉。他很可能开枪打你。对了，我已经邀请塞西杰先生下个礼拜到我们家过周末了。”
“荒唐，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道，“我不喜欢那个年轻人来我们家，你听见没有，玛丽亚？”
“为什么不呢？”
“跟你没关系。”
“那太对不起了，亲爱的，”库特夫人温和地说道，“可我已经邀请他了，现在也没办法了。帮我把那个粉红色线团捡起来好吗，奥斯瓦德？”
奥斯瓦德爵士脸色铁青，弯腰捡起了线团。他看了看妻子，犹豫不决。库特夫人则仍旧心平气和地织着毛线。
“我尤其不希望塞西杰下个周末到我们家去，”他终于开口说道，“贝特曼跟我说了他的很多事，他们以前是同学。”
“说了些什么？”
“没一句好话。其实，他还认真地提醒我要提防他。”
“他是这么说的？”库特夫人若有所思地说道。
“我十分看重贝特曼的判断力。他从没错过。”
“哎呀，”库特夫人说道，“看来我把事情搞得一塌糊涂。当然，要是我早知道，就不会请他来了。你应该早点告诉我，奥斯瓦德。现在说什么也来不及了。”
她开始小心翼翼地收拾手上的毛线活儿。奥斯瓦德爵士看着她，好像要说什么，但又耸耸肩没有说出口。他跟在她身后进了屋。库特夫人走在前面，脸上挂着淡淡的微笑。她喜欢自己的丈夫，不过她也喜欢在暗地里一意孤行——以一种不易察觉的、完全女性的方式。
Twenty-six MAINLY ABOUT GOLF
Twenty-six MAINLY ABOUT GOLF

“That friend of yours is a nice girl, Bundle,” said Lord Caterham.
Loraine had been at Chimneys for nearly a week, and had earned thehigh opinion of her host—mainly because of the charming readiness shehad shown to be instructed in the science of the mashie shot.
Bored by his winter abroad, Lord Caterham had taken up golf. He wasan execrable player and in consequence was profoundly enthusiastic overthe game. He spent most of his mornings lifting mashie shots over variousshrubs and bushes—or, rather, essaying to loft them, hacking large bitsout of the velvety turf and generally reducing MacDonald to despair.
“We must lay out a little course,” said Lord Caterham, addressing adaisy. “A sporting little course. Now then, just watch this one, Bundle. Offthe right knee, slow back, keep the head still and use the wrists.”
The ball, heavily topped, scudded across the lawn and disappeared intothe unfathomed depths of a great bank of rhododendrons.
“Curious,” said Lord Caterham. “What did I do then, I wonder? As I wassaying, Bundle, that friend of yours is a very nice girl. I really think I aminducing her to take quite an interest in the game. She hit some excellentshots this morning—really quite as good as I could do myself.”
Lord Caterham took another careless swing and removed an immensechunk of turf. MacDonald, who was passing retrieved it and stamped itfirmly back. The look he gave Lord Caterham would have caused anyonebut an ardent golfer to sink through the earth.
“If MacDonald has been guilty of cruelty to Cootes, which I strongly sus-pect,” said Bundle, “he’s being punished now.”
“Why shouldn’t I do as I like in my own garden?” demanded her father.
“MacDonald ought to be interested in the way my game is coming on—theScotch are a great golfing nation.”
“You poor old man,” said Bundle. “You’ll never be a golfer—but at anyrate it keeps you out of mischief.”
“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham. “I did the long sixth in five the otherday. The pro was very surprised when I told him about it.”
“He would be,” said Bundle.
“Talking of Cootes, Sir Oswald plays a fair game—a very fair game. Not apretty style—too stiff. But straight down the middle every time. But curi-ous how the cloven hoof shows—won’t give you a six inch putt! Makes youput it in every time. Now I don’t like that.”
“I suppose he’s a man who likes to be sure,” said Bundle.
“It’s contrary to the spirit of the game,” said her father. “And he’s not in-terested in the theory of the thing either. Now, that secretary chap, Bate-man, is quite different. It’s the theory interests him. I was slicing badlywith my spoon; and he said it all came from too much right arm; and heevolved a very interesting theory. It’s all left arm in golf—the left arm isthe arm that counts. He says he plays tennis left-handed but golf with or-dinary clubs because there his superiority with the left arm tells.”
“And did he play very marvellously?” inquired Bundle.
“No, he didn’t,” confessed Lord Caterham. “But then he may have beenoff his game. I see the theory all right and I think there’s a lot in it. Ah! Didyou see that one, Bundle? Right over the rhododendrons. A perfect shot.
Ah! If one could be sure of doing that every time—Yes, Tredwell, what isit?”
Tredwell addressed Bundle.
“Mr. Thesiger would like to speak to you on the telephone, my lady.”
Bundle set off at full speed for the house, yelling “Loraine, Loraine,” asshe did so. Loraine joined her just as she was lifting the receiver.
“Hallo, is that you, Jimmy?”
“Hallo. How are you?”
“Very fit, but a bit bored.”
“How’s Loraine?”
“She’s all right. She’s here. Do you want to speak to her?”
“In a minute. I’ve got a lot to say. To begin with, I’m going down to theCootes for the weekend,” he said significantly. “Now, look here, Bundle,you don’t know how one gets hold of skeleton keys, do you?”
“Haven’t the foggiest. Is it really necessary to take skeleton keys to theCootes?”
“Well, I had a sort of idea they’d come in handy. You don’t know the sortof shop one gets them at?”
“What you want is a kindly burglar friend to show you the ropes.”
“I do, Bundle, I do. And unfortunately I haven’t got one. I thought per-haps your bright brain might grapple successfully with the problem. But Isuppose I shall have to fall back upon Stevens as usual. He’ll be gettingsome funny ideas in his head soon about me—first a bluenosed automatic—and now skeleton keys. He’ll think I’ve joined the criminal classes.”
“Jimmy?” said Bundle.
“Yes?”
“Look here—be careful, won’t you? I mean if Sir Oswald finds you nos-ing around with skeleton keys—well, I should think he could be very un-pleasant when he likes.”
“Young man of pleasing appearance in the dock! All right, I’ll be careful.
Pongo’s the fellow I’m really frightened of. He sneaks around so on thoseflat feet of his. You never hear him coming. And he always did have agenius for poking his nose in where he wasn’t wanted. But trust to the boyhero.”
“Well, I wish Loraine and I were going to be there to look after you.”
“Thank you, nurse. As a matter of fact, though, I have a scheme.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you and Loraine might have a convenient car breakdownnear Letherbury tomorrow morning? It’s not so very far from you, is it?”
“Forty miles. That’s nothing.”
“I thought it wouldn’t be—to you! Don’t kill Loraine though. I’m ratherfond of Loraine. All right, then—somewhere round about quarter to halfpast twelve.”
“So that they invite us to lunch?”
“That’s the idea. I say, Bundle, I ran into that girl Socks yesterday, andwhat do you think — Terence O’Rourke is going to be down there thisweekend!”
“Jimmy, do you think he—?”
“Well—suspect everyone, you know. That’s what they say. He’s a wildlad, and daring as they make them. I wouldn’t put it past him to run asecret society. He and the Countess might be in this together. He was outin Hungary last year.”
“But he could pinch the formula any time.”
“That’s just what he couldn’t. He’d have to do it under circumstanceswhere he couldn’t be suspected. But the retreat up the ivy and into hisown bed—well, that would be rather neat. Now for instructions. After afew polite nothings to Lady Coote, you and Loraine are to get hold ofPongo and O’Rourke by hook or by crook and keep them occupied tilllunch time. See? It oughtn’t to be difficult for a couple of beautiful girlslike you.”
“You’re using the best butter, I see.”
“A plain statement of fact.”
“Well, at any rate, your instructions are duly noted. Do you want to talkto Loraine now?”
Bundle passed over the receiver and tactfully left the room.
第二十六章 围绕高尔夫球的话题
第二十六章 围绕高尔夫球的话题
“你那位朋友真是个好女孩，邦德尔。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道。
洛兰已经在烟囱别墅待了差不多一个星期，深得主人的好感，这主要是因为她虚心接受主人对她五号高尔夫铁头短球杆击球技术的教诲。
凯特勒姆勋爵厌倦了大冬天出门，便打起了高尔夫球。他的球技并不高明，但这反而令他对这项运动尤其热衷。他把早上的大部分时间都花在挥舞五号球杆，把球高高打过各式各样的灌木丛之上；更准确地说，是把时间花在把球打出去之上。结果他的猛力挥舞，把天鹅绒一般平整的草皮大片大片地弄坏，令麦克唐纳悲痛欲绝。
“我们必须设计一套小小的程序，”凯特勒姆勋爵郑重其事地说道，“一套小小的运动程序。好啦，注意看这一杆，邦德尔。提起右膝，慢慢往后摆，头不要动，要手腕用力。”
球的上部挨了重重一击，飞过草坪消失在一大片杜鹃花丛中。
“奇怪，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“怎么搞的？对了，邦德尔，你那个朋友是个相当不错的女孩。在我的引导下，她真的对高尔夫球产生了强烈的兴趣。今天早上她就打出了不少好杆……差不多快赶上我了。”
凯特勒姆勋爵漫不经心地又打出一杆，掀起了一大片草皮。
麦克唐纳恰好路过，看到之后他赶紧把掀掉的草皮找回来，牢牢地按回原处，然后瞥了凯特勒姆勋爵一眼，这一眼足以让任何人羞愧得一头钻到地底下去，除非他是一个狂热的高尔夫球爱好者。
“如果麦克唐纳对库特夫妇问心有愧的话……我相信他是这样，”邦德尔说道，“他现在总算得到报应了。”
“又不是别人家的园子，我为什么不可以想做就做？”她的父亲反问道，“麦克唐纳应该对我球技的长进感兴趣才对……苏格兰是一个了不起的热爱高尔夫球运动的民族。”
“您这可怜的老头儿，”邦德尔说道，“您永远也打不好高尔夫球……但不管这么说，倒也免得您去惹事生非。”
“才不会呢，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“前些天我用五杆就打进了那么远的六号球洞，我跟职业教练说了，他非常惊讶。”
“他当然会惊讶。”邦德尔说道。
“说到库特夫妇，其实奥斯瓦德爵士的球打得不错，相当不错，就是姿势难看了些……身子太僵硬了。他每次击球都正好打在正中间。奇怪的是，他的技术还是不过关……永远做不到六英寸轻推入洞，结果每次都是别人赢。我可不喜欢他这样。”
“我想他大概是一个喜欢稳妥的人吧。”邦德尔说道。
“但这正好违背了高尔夫球的精神。”她父亲说道，“而且他对高尔夫球理论也没兴趣，他打球只是为了运动而运动，从不关心球打得好看不好看。那个当秘书的贝特曼就跟他很不一样。他感兴趣的是理论。我用三号匙杆老是打出曲线球，他说那主要是因为右臂的力量太大了，而且他还创造了一套相当有趣的理论，说打高尔夫球全靠左臂……关键在左臂的力量。他说他打网球时是左手握拍，但是打高尔夫球时就用普通的球杆，因为他的强项是在左手。”
“他打得非常好吗？”邦德尔问道。
“不，也不怎么样，”凯特勒姆勋爵老老实实地说道，“不过也可能是不经常打的缘故。
我看他的理论也有点道理。啊哈！看到这一杆没有，邦德尔？正好从杜鹃花上面飞过去。
太漂亮了。哎呀！要是每次都能打成这样……嗨，特雷德韦尔，什么事？”
特雷德韦尔对邦德尔说道：
“塞西杰先生打电话找您，小姐。”
一听此话，邦德尔全速跑回屋子，一边跑，一边喊：“洛兰，洛兰！”
她刚拿起听筒，洛兰就赶到了她的身边。
“喂，是你吗，吉米？”
“喂。你好吗？”
“很好，就是有点儿无聊。”
“洛兰怎么样？”
“她很好，她就在旁边。你要跟她说话吗？”
“等会儿吧，我有很多话要说呢。首先，我要到库特家去度周末，”他意味深长地说道，“听我说，邦德尔，你知道怎么弄到万能钥匙吗？”
“一点也不知道。带万能钥匙上库特家，有这个必要吗？”
“哦，我有预感，会派上用场的。你知不知道可以上哪儿去买？”
“除非找一个好心的妙手空空教你才行。”
“没错，邦德尔。可是我没能找到这样的朋友。我原以为你聪明的脑袋瓜能帮我解决这个问题呢。看来我还得找史蒂文斯帮忙了。说不定他会有奇怪的想法……先是一把枪管烤蓝的自动手枪……现在又是万能钥匙。他肯定会以为我加入黑帮了。”
“吉米？”邦德尔说。
“什么事？”
“听着……一定要小心，好吗？要是奥斯瓦德爵士发现你带着万能钥匙到处乱闯……呃，我想他会非常生气的。”
“谦谦君子上了被告席！好的，我会小心的。黑猩猩才是我真正害怕的家伙。他总是喜欢偷偷摸摸到处活动，不知道什么时候会突然冒出来。哪里不欢迎他，他就在哪里出现，真是个天才。不过你放心，相信我这个小英雄好了。”
“唉，真希望洛兰和我能去帮你。”
“谢谢你，我的护士小姐。其实，我倒有个计划……”
“是吗？”
“你和洛兰能不能找辆合适的汽车，明天早上让它正好在莱瑟伯利附近抛锚？那儿离你们家不太远吧？”
“四十英里，算不了什么。”
“我想也算不了什么……对你来说！不过千万别开快车伤了洛兰。我很喜欢洛兰。好啦，那就……十二点十五分至十二点半之间吧。”
“正好让他们邀请我们吃午饭？”
“正是这个意思。喂，邦德尔，我昨天碰到了那个叫袜子的女孩子，还有，你猜怎么着……特伦斯•奥罗克这个周末也要来！”
“吉米，你是不是觉得他……”
“唉……谁也不可轻信。大家都这么说。他是个野小子，胆大包天。我猜他可能加入了那个秘密组织，他和伯爵夫人是同伙。去年他一直在匈牙利。”
“可是他随时都可以偷走配方呀。”
“这恰恰是他不能干的。他必须在不被怀疑的情况下才可以下手。不过，顺着常春藤原路爬回自己的床……呃，这一招确实漂亮。现在听我的指示：跟库特夫人客套之后，你和洛兰务必缠住黑猩猩和奥罗克，直到午饭时间。明白吗？对你们这两位美女来说，应该不难办到。”
“美人计，我明白了。”
“实话实说而已。”
“得了吧。你说的我记住了。现在你要不要跟洛兰说话？”
邦德尔把听筒递给洛兰，知趣地走出了房间。
Twenty-seven NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE
Twenty-seven NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE

Jimmy Thesiger arrived at Letherbury on a sunny autumn afternoon andwas greeted affectionately by Lady Coote and with cold dislike by Sir Os-wald. Aware of the keen matchmaking eye of Lady Coote upon him,Jimmy took pains to make himself extremely agreeable to Socks Daventry.
O’Rourke was there in excellent spirits. He was inclined to be officialand secretive about the mysterious events at the Abbey, about whichSocks catechized him freely, but his official reticence took a novel form .?.?.
namely that of embroidering the tale of events in such a fantastic mannerthat nobody could possibly guess what the truth might have been.
“Four masked men with revolvers? Is that really so?” demanded Socksseverely.
“Ah! I’m remembering now that there was the round half-dozen of themto hold me down and force the stuff down my throat. Sure, and I thought itwas poison, and I done for entirely.”
“And what was stolen, or what did they try and steal?”
“What else but the crown jewels of Russia that were brought to Mr. Lo-max secretly to deposit in the Bank of England.”
“What a bloody liar you are,” said Socks without emotion.
“A liar, I? And the jewels brought over by aeroplane with my best friendas pilot. This is secret history I’m telling you, Socks. Will you ask JimmyThesiger there if you don’t believe me. Not that I’d be putting any trust inwhat he’d say.”
“Is it true,” said Socks, “that George Lomax came down without his falseteeth? That’s what I want to know.”
“There were two revolvers,” said Lady Coote. “Nasty things. I saw themmyself. It’s a wonder this poor boy wasn’t killed.”
“Oh, I was born to be hanged,” said Jimmy.
“I hear that there was a Russian countess there of subtle beauty,” saidSocks. “And that she vamped Bill.”
“Some of the things she said about Buda Pesth were too dreadful,” saidLady Coote. “I shall never forget them. Oswald, we must send a subscrip-tion.”
Sir Oswald grunted.
“I’ll make a note of it, Lady Coote,” said Rupert Bateman.
“Thank you, Mr. Bateman. I feel one ought to do something as a thankoffering. I can’t imagine how Sir Oswald escaped being shot—letting alonedie of pneumonia.”
“Don’t be foolish, Maria,” said Sir Oswald.
“I’ve always had a horror of cat burglars,” said Lady Coote.
“Think of having the luck to meet one face to face. How thrilling!” mur-mured Socks.
“Don’t you believe it,” said Jimmy. “It’s damned painful.” And he pattedhis right arm gingerly.
“How is the poor arm?” inquired Lady Coote.
“Oh, pretty well all right now. But it’s been the most confounded nuis-ance having to do everything with the left hand. I’m no good whateverwith it.”
“Every child should be brought up to be ambidexterous,” said Sir Os-wald.
“Oh!” said Socks, somewhat out of her depth. “Is that like seals?”
“Not amphibious,” said Mr. Bateman. “Ambidexterous means usingeither hand equally well.”
“Oh!” said Socks, looking at Sir Oswald with respect. “Can you?”
“Certainly; I can write with either hand.”
“But not with both at once?”
“That would not be practical,” said Sir Oswald shortly.
“No,” said Socks thoughtfully. “I suppose that would be a bit too subtle.”
“It would be a grand thing now in a Government department,” observedMr. O’Rourke, “if one could keep the right hand from knowing what theleft hand was doing.”
“Can you use both hands?”
“No, indeed. I’m the most right-handed person that ever was.”
“But you deal cards with your left hand,” said the observant Bateman. “Inoticed the other night.”
“Oh, but that’s different entirely,” said Mr. O’Rourke easily.
A gong with a sombre note pealed out and everyone went upstairs todress for dinner.
After dinner Sir Oswald and Lady Coote, Mr. Bateman and Mr. O’Rourkeplayed bridge and Jimmy passed a flirtatious evening with Socks. The lastwords Jimmy heard as he retreated up the staircase that night were Sir Os-wald saying to his wife:
“You’ll never make a bridge player, Maria.”
And her reply:
“I know, dear. So you always say. You owe Mr. O’Rourke another pound,Oswald. That’s right.”
It was some two hours later that Jimmy crept noiselessly (or so hehoped) down the stairs. He made one brief visit to the dining room andthen found his way to Sir Oswald’s study. There, after listening intently fora minute or two, he set to work. Most of the drawers of the desk werelocked, but a curiously shaped bit of wire in Jimmy’s hand soon saw tothat. One by one the drawers yielded to his manipulations.
Drawer by drawer he sorted through methodically, being careful to re-place everything in the same order. Once or twice he stopped to listen,fancying he heard some distant sound. But he remained undisturbed.
The last drawer was looked through. Jimmy now knew—or could haveknown had he been paying attention—many interesting details relating tosteel; but he had found nothing of what he wanted—a reference to HerrEberhard’s invention or anything that could give him a clue to the identityof the mysterious No 7. He had, perhaps, hardly hoped that he would. Itwas an off chance and he had taken it—but he had not expected much res-ult—except by sheer luck.
He tested the drawers to make sure that he had relocked them securely.
He knew Rupert Bateman’s powers of minute observation and glancedround the room to make sure that he had left no incriminating trace of hispresence.
“That’s that,” he muttered to himself softly. “Nothing there. Well, per-haps I’ll have better luck tomorrow morning—if the girls only play up.”
He came out of the study, closing the door behind him and locking it.
For a moment he thought he heard a sound quite near him, but decided hehad been mistaken. He felt his way noiselessly along the great hall. Justenough light came from the high-vaulted windows to enable him to pickhis way without stumbling into anything.
Again he heard a soft sound—he heard it quite certainly this time andwithout the possibility of making a mistake. He was not alone in the hall.
Somebody else was there, moving as stealthily as he was. His heart beatsuddenly very fast.
With a sudden spring he jumped to the electric switch and turned on thelights. The sudden glare made him blink—but he saw plainly enough. Notfour feet away stood Rupert Bateman.
“My goodness, Pongo,” cried Jimmy, “you did give me a start. Slinkingabout like that in the dark.”
“I heard a noise,” explained Mr. Bateman severely. “I thought burglarshad got in and I came down to see.”
Jimmy looked thoughtfully at Mr. Bateman’s rubbersoled feet.
“You think of everything, Pongo,” he said genially. “Even a lethalweapon.”
His eye rested on the bulge in the other’s pocket.
“It’s as well to be armed. One never knows whom one may meet.”
“I am glad you didn’t shoot,” said Jimmy. “I’m a bit tired of being shotat.”
“I might easily have done so,” said Mr. Bateman.
“It would be dead against the law if you did,” said Jimmy. “You’ve got tomake quite sure the beggar’s housebreaking, you know, before you pot athim. You mustn’t jump to conclusions. Otherwise you’d have to explainwhy you shot a guest on a perfectly innocent errand like mine.”
“By the way what did you come down for?”
“I was hungry,” said Jimmy. “I rather fancied a dry biscuit.”
“There are some biscuits in a tin by your bed,” said Rupert Bateman.
He was staring at Jimmy very intently through his horn-rimmed spec-tacles.
“Ah! That’s where the staff work has gone wrong, old boy. There’s a tinthere with “Biscuits for Starving Visitors” on it. But when the starving vis-itor opened it—nothing inside. So I just toddled down to the dining room.”
And with a sweet, ingenuous smile, Jimmy produced from his dressinggown pocket a handful of biscuits.
There was a moment’s pause.
“And now I think I’ll toddle back to bed,” said Jimmy. “Night- night,Pongo.”
With an affectation of nonchalance, he mounted the staircase. RupertBateman followed him. At the doorway of his room, Jimmy paused as if tosay good night once more.
“It’s an extraordinary thing about these biscuits,” said Mr. Bateman. “Doyou mind if I just—?”
“Certainly, laddie, look for yourself.”
Mr. Bateman strode across the room, opened the biscuit box and staredat its emptiness.
“Very remiss,” he murmured. “Well, good night.”
He withdrew. Jimmy sat on the edge of his bed listening for a minute.
“That was a narrow shave,” he murmured to himself. “Suspicious sort ofchap, Pongo. Never seems to sleep. Nasty habit of his, prowling aroundwith a revolver.”
He got up and opened one of the drawers of the dressing table. Beneathan assortment of ties lay a pile of biscuits.
“There’s nothing for it,” said Jimmy. “I shall have to eat the damnedthings. Ten to one, Pongo will come prowling round in the morning.”
With a sigh, he settled down to a meal of biscuits for which he had no in-clination whatever.
第二十七章 夜间冒险
第二十七章 夜间冒险
这是一个阳光明媚的秋日下午，吉米•塞西杰来到了莱瑟伯利，受到了库特夫人的热情接待，但奥斯瓦德爵士表现冷淡，一脸的不高兴。吉米注意到库特夫人正拿着月老的目光打量着自己，于是不得不对“袜子”达文特里显出十二分的殷勤。
奥罗克也在，精神很好，显得很活跃。他打着官腔，有意对双足飞龙教堂发生的神秘事件避而不谈，引得袜子缠住他一个劲儿盘问。不过他打官腔的方式倒是很别致——添油加醋、无中生有、虚虚实实，弄得谁也猜不透事实的真相。
“四个拿枪的蒙面人？真的吗？”袜子严肃地问道。
“啊！我想起来了，有六七个人抓住我，强迫我把那玩意儿喝下去。肯定是毒药，然后我就什么都不知道了。”
“那么什么东西被偷走了，或者他们想偷什么东西？”
“除了悄悄给洛马克斯先生带过来，打算存入英格兰银行的那些俄国珠宝，还会有什么呢？”
“你真会骗人，”袜子冷冷地说道。
“骗人？那些珠宝是我最要好的朋友开飞机专门运过来的。我说的都是秘密哟，袜子。
要是你不信，你去问问吉米•塞西杰好了，但并不是说我一定相信他说的话。”
“是真的吗？”袜子问道，“乔治•洛马克斯没戴假牙就冲下楼了？我很想知道。”
“有两把手枪，”库特夫人说道，“真讨厌。我亲眼看见的。这可怜的孩子没被打死真是奇迹。”
“唉，看来我注定是要被绞死的。”吉米自嘲道。
“我还听说有个令人惊艳的伯爵夫人，”袜子说道，“她勾引比尔。”
“她讲的关于布达佩斯的情况简直太可怕了，”库特夫人说道，“我永远也忘不了。奥斯瓦德，我们必须给那儿捐一些钱。”
奥斯瓦德爵士哼了一声。
“我会记下来的，库特夫人。”鲁珀特•贝特曼说道。
“谢谢你，贝特曼先生。我觉得人应该知道感恩。我简直无法想象奥斯瓦德爵士是怎么躲过这一劫的，幸亏没被窃贼开枪打死……更不要说没得肺炎。”
“别犯傻了，玛丽亚，”奥斯瓦德爵士说道。
“我一直就怕小偷。”库特夫人说道。
“要是哪天面对面碰到一个，那才叫刺激呢！”袜子自言自语地说道。
“你可别信那套，”吉米说道，“痛死人了。”他小心翼翼地摸了摸右胳膊。
“你可怜的胳膊好点没？”库特夫人问道。
“哦，现在没事了。只是什么事都得用左手，真讨厌。我左手不行。”
“每个小孩从小就应该学会双手并用。”奥斯瓦德爵士说道。
“噢！”袜子有点不懂装懂，“像海豹一样？”
“不是说水陆两栖，”贝特曼先生说道，“他说的是左右手都运用自如。”
“噢！”袜子肃然起敬地看着奥斯瓦德爵士，“您能吗？”
“当然，我两只手都能写字。”
“但不是同时写吧？”
“那不实用。”奥斯瓦德爵士简短地说道。
“哦，”袜子若有所思地说道，“同时写，那也太微妙了点儿。”
“现在在政府部门，”奥罗克先生开口说道，“如果一个人能让右手不知道左手在干什么，那是非常了不起的。”
“你能双手并用吗？”
“不行，我是地地道道的右手拥趸。”
“可是你发牌时用的是左手，”观察敏锐的贝特曼先生说道，“前些天晚上我就注意到了。”
“噢，那是两码事。”奥罗克先生平淡地说道。
这时传来一声低沉的锣声，大家都上楼梳妆打扮，准备吃晚饭。
吃过晚饭之后，奥斯瓦德爵士和库特夫人搭档，贝特曼和奥罗克做对家，玩起了桥牌，而吉米和袜子则度过了一个打情骂俏的黄昏。那天晚上，吉米上楼时听到的最后几句话，是奥斯瓦德爵士在对他妻子说：
“你永远也做不了一个桥牌手，玛丽亚。”
还有她的回答：
“我知道，亲爱的。你一向都这么说。你还欠奥罗克先生一英镑呢，奥斯瓦德。行啦。”
大约两个小时之后，吉米不声不响地——或者说他希望如此——溜下楼梯。他先是到餐厅很快地转了一圈，然后摸进奥斯瓦德爵士的书房。到了书房，他侧耳听了一会儿之后，便开始动手了。书桌的大部分抽屉都上了锁，但吉米抽出一根奇形怪状的铁丝，很快就把抽屉打开了。
他有条不紊地翻检着抽屉，每检查完一个抽屉，都会小心地把东西放回原处。有一两次他停下来屏息倾听，好像听见了远处传来轻微的响动。不过，他依然很镇定。
最后一个抽屉也检查过了。吉米这时知道了——或者说只要他稍微留神的话，他就知道了——很多跟钢铁有关的有趣情况；然而他想要的东西——有关赫尔•埃伯哈德先生发明的资料，或者跟神秘的七点钟能够搭上边的任何线索——却丝毫没有找到。或许，他本来就没有抱太大的希望。他只是抱着姑且一试的心态——并不期望有多少成果——除非撞了大运。
他又拉了拉所有的抽屉，确保该锁上的都锁好了。他知道鲁珀特•贝特曼那细致入微的观察力。然后，他环视四周，确认没有留下来过这里的蛛丝马迹。
“就这样吧，”他轻声地自言自语，“什么也没有。唉，也许明天上午运气会好一点……如果她们俩配合得好的话。”
他出了书房，随手把门带上，然后锁好。有那么一刹那，他仿佛听到身边很近的地方响了一下，但他马上断定是自己听错了。他不声不响地顺着大厅摸索着往前走。从高高的拱形天窗透进来的光线正好能让他看见路，不至于绊到任何东西。
他又一次听到一个细微的声响，这一次听得真真切切，绝对不可能听错。大厅里不止他一个人，还有别人，也和他一样蹑手蹑脚在走动。他的心怦怦直跳。
他猛地跳到电灯开关前，把灯打开。突如其来的亮光令他眨了下眼睛，但他还是看得很清楚。离他不到四英尺的地方，站着鲁珀特•贝特曼。
“天哪，黑猩猩，”吉米大叫道，“你吓了我一大跳，黑灯瞎火的，鬼鬼祟祟地到处走动。”
“我听到了一个响声，”贝特曼先生一本正经地解释道，“我以为是有小偷进来了，就下楼来看看。”
吉米若有所思地看着贝特曼先生穿的胶底鞋。
“你想的可真周到，黑猩猩，”他亲切地说道，“连要命的家伙也带上了。”
他的目光盯在贝特曼口袋里鼓鼓的东西上。
“以防万一嘛，谁知道会碰上什么人。”
“幸亏你没开枪，”吉米说道，“我都被枪打怕了。”
“我本来完全可以开枪。”贝特曼先生说道。
“你要真的开枪，那就严重违法了，”吉米说道，“开枪之前你必须先弄清楚那家伙是不是真的在偷东西。千万不要妄下结论。否则，你就不得不作出解释，为什么平白无故开枪打死一个像我这样清白无辜、只是随便转转的客人。”
“对了，你下楼干什么？”
“我饿了，”吉米答道，“想找点饼干。”
“你床边就有一听饼干，”鲁珀特•贝特曼说道。
透过角质镜框眼镜，他死死地盯着吉米。
“唉！老兄，这儿的管理出了岔子。是有一个铁罐子，上面写着‘内有饼干，客人自取’。但是当我这个饥肠辘辘的客人打开来时，里面却什么也没有。所以我只好摸到餐厅去找。”
吉米天真地一笑，从睡衣口袋里掏出一把饼干。
一下子两人都没有说话。
“现在我该摸回去睡觉了，”吉米说道，“晚安，黑猩猩。”
他装出一副若无其事的样子上了楼梯。鲁珀特•贝特曼则跟在他身后。到了房门口，吉米停下来，似乎想再说一声晚安。
“真奇怪，饼干怎么会没了呢？”贝特曼先生说道，“你不会介意吧，如果我……”
“当然不会，老兄，你来找吧。”
贝特曼先生快步上前，打开饼干盒，里面果然是空的。
“太马虎了，”他嘀咕了一声，“好了，晚安。”
他转身离开了。吉米坐在床沿上，侧耳听了一会儿。
“好险，”他喃喃自语道，“黑猩猩疑心真重，好像从来不用睡觉似的，还带着枪四处闲荡，这个习惯真见鬼。”
他站起身来，打开墙角梳妆桌的一个抽屉——在各式各样的领带下面堆着一堆饼干。
“没办法了，”吉米说道，“看来得把这些该死的东西全吃掉。十有八九黑猩猩明天早上会偷偷摸摸过来查看的。”
他叹了口气，坐下来准备把那堆并不想吃的东西塞进肚子里。
Twenty-eight SUSPICIONS
Twenty-eight SUSPICIONS

It was just on the appointed hour of twelve o’clock that Bundle and Lo-raine entered the park gates, having left the Hispano at an adjacent gar-age.
Lady Coote greeted the two girls with surprise, but distinct pleasure, andimmediately pressed them to stay to lunch.
O’Rourke, who had been reclining in an immense armchair, began atonce to talk with great animation to Loraine, who was listening with halfan ear to Bundle’s highly technical explanation of the mechanical troublewhich had affected the Hispano.
“And we said,” ended Bundle, “how marvellous that the brute shouldhave broken down just here! Last time it happened was on a Sunday at aplace called Little Speddlington under the Hill. And it lived up to its name,I can tell you.”
“That would be a grand name on the films,” remarked O’Rourke.
“Birthplace of the simple country maiden,” suggested Socks.
“I wonder now,” said Lady Coote, “where Mr. Thesiger is?”
“He’s in the billiard room, I think,” said Socks. “I’ll fetch him.”
She went off, but had hardly gone a minute when Rupert Bateman ap-peared upon the scene, with the harassed and serious air usual to him.
“Yes, Lady Coote? Thesiger said you were asking for me. How do you do,Lady Eileen—”
He broke off to greet the two girls, and Loraine immediately took thefield.
“Oh, Mr. Bateman! I’ve been wanting to see you. Wasn’t it you who wastelling me what to do for a dog when he is continually getting sore paws?”
The secretary shook his head.
“It must have been someone else, Miss Wade. Though, as a matter offact, I do happen to know—”
“What a wonderful man you are,” interrupted Loraine. “You knowabout everything.”
“One should keep abreast of modern knowledge,” said Mr. Bateman ser-iously. “Now about your dog’s paws—”
Terence O’Rourke murmured sotto voce to Bundle:
“ ’Tis a man like that writes all those little paragraphs in the weekly pa-pers. ‘It is not generally known that to keep a brass fender uniformlybright, etc;’ ‘The dorper beetle is one of the most interesting characters inthe insect world;’ ‘The marriage customs of the Fingalese Indian;’ and soon.”
“General information, in fact.”
“And what more horrible two words could you have?” said Mr.
O’Rourke, and added piously: “Thank the heavens above I’m an educatedman and know nothing whatever upon any subject at all.”
“I see you’ve got clock golf here,” said Bundle to Lady Coote.
“I’ll take you on it, Lady Eileen,” said O’Rourke.
“Let’s challenge those two,” said Bundle. “Loraine, Mr. O’Rourke and Iwant to take you and Mr. Bateman on at clock golf.”
“Do play, Mr. Bateman,” said Lady Coote, as the secretary showed a mo-mentary hesitation. “I’m sure Sir Oswald doesn’t want you.”
The four went out on the lawn.
“Very cleverly managed, what?” whispered Bundle to Loraine. “Congrat-ulations on our girlish tact.”
The round ended just before one o’clock, victory going to Bateman andLoraine.
“But I think you’ll agree with me, partner,” said Mr. O’Rourke, “that weplayed a more sporting game.”
He lagged a little behind with Bundle.
“Old Pongo’s a cautious player—and takes no risks. Now, with me it’sneck or nothing. And a fine motto through life, don’t you agree, LadyEileen?”
“Hasn’t it ever landed you in trouble?” asked Bundle laughing.
“To be sure it has. Millions of times. But I’m still going strong. Sure, it’lltake the hangman’s noose to defeat Terence O’Rourke.”
Just then Jimmy Thesiger strolled round the corner of the house.
“Bundle, by all that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed.
“You’ve missed competing in the Autumn Meeting,” said O’Rourke.
“I’d gone for a stroll,” said Jimmy. “Where did these girls drop from?”
“We came on our flat feet,” said Bundle. “The Hispano let us down.”
And she narrated the circumstances of the breakdown.
Jimmy listened with sympathetic attention.
“Hard luck,” he vouchsafed. “If it’s going to take some time, I’ll run youback in my car after lunch.”
A gong sounded at that moment and they all went in. Bundle observedJimmy covertly. She thought she had noticed an unusual note of exultancein his voice. She had the feeling that things had gone well.
After lunch they took a polite leave of Lady Coote, and Jimmy volun-teered to run them down to the garage in his car. As soon as they had star-ted the same words burst simultaneously from both girls’ lips:
“Well?”
Jimmy chose to be provoking.
“Well?”
“Oh, pretty hearty, thanks. Slight indigestion owing to overindulgence indry biscuits.”
“But what has happened?”
“I tell you. Devotion to the cause made me eat too many dry biscuits. Butdid our hero flinch? No, he did not.”
“Oh, Jimmy,” said Loraine reproachfully, and he softened.
“What do you really want to know?”
“Oh, everything. Didn’t we do it well? I mean, the way we kept Pongoand Terence O’Rourke in play.”
“I congratulate you on the handling of Pongo. O’Rourke was probably asitter—but Pongo is made of other stuff. There’s only one word for that lad—it was in the Sunday Newsbag crossword last week. Word of ten lettersmeaning everywhere at once. Ubiquitous. That described Pongo down tothe ground. You can’t go anywhere without running into him—and theworst of it is you never hear him coming.”
“You think he’s dangerous?”
“Dangerous? Of course he’s not dangerous. Fancy Pongo being danger-ous. He’s an ass. But, as I said just now, he’s an ubiquitous ass. He doesn’teven seem to need sleep like ordinary mortals. In fact, to put it bluntly, thefellow’s a damned nuisance.”
And, in a somewhat aggrieved manner, Jimmy described the events ofthe previous evening.
Bundle was not very sympathetic.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing anyway, mooching aroundhere.”
“No 7,” said Jimmy crisply. “That’s what I’m after. No 7.”
“And you think you’ll find him in this house?”
“I thought I might find a clue.”
“And you didn’t?”
“Not last night—no.”
“But this morning,” said Loraine, breaking in suddenly. “Jimmy, you didfind something this morning. I can see it by your face.”
“Well, I don’t know if it is anything. But during the course of my stroll—”
“Which stroll didn’t take you far from the house, I imagine.”
“Strangely enough, it didn’t. Round trip of the interior, we might call it.
Well, as I say, I don’t know whether there’s anything in it or not. But Ifound this.”
With the celerity of a conjurer he produced a small bottle and tossed itover to the girls. It was half full of a white powder.
“What do you think it is?” asked Bundle.
“A white crystalline powder, that’s what it is,” said Jimmy. “And to anyreader of detective fiction those words are both familiar and suggestive.
Of course, if it turns out to be a new kind of patent tooth powder, I shall bechagrined and annoyed.”
“Where did you find it?” asked Bundle sharply.
“Ah!” said Jimmy, “that’s my secret.”
And from that point he would not budge in spite of cajolery and insult.
“Here we are at the garage,” he said. “Let’s hope the high-mettled His-pano has not been subjected to any indignities.”
The gentleman at the garage presented a bill for five shillings and madea few vague remarks about loose nuts. Bundle paid him with a sweetsmile.
“It’s nice to know we all get money for nothing sometimes,” she mur-mured to Jimmy.
The three stood together in the road, silent for the moment as they eachpondered the situation.
“I know,” said Bundle suddenly.
“Know what?”
“Something I meant to ask you—and nearly forgot. Do you rememberthat glove Superintendent Battle found—the half-burnt one?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t you say that he tried it on your hand?”
“Yes—it was a shade big. That fits in with the idea of its being a big,hefty man who wore it.”
“That’s not at all what I’m bothering about. Never mind the size of it.
George and Sir Oswald were both there too, weren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“He could have given it to either of them to fit on?”
“Yes, of course—”
“But he didn’t. He chose you. Jimmy, don’t you see what that means?”
Mr. Thesiger stared at her.
“I’m sorry, Bundle. Possibly the jolly old brain isn’t functioning as wellas usual, but I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you see, Loraine?”
Loraine looked at her curiously, but shook her head.
“Does it mean anything in particular?”
“Of course it does. Don’t you see—Jimmy had his right hand in a sling.”
“By Jove, Bundle,” said Jimmy slowly. “It was rather odd now I come tothink of it; it’s being a left-hand glove, I mean. Battle never said anything.”
“He wasn’t going to draw attention to it. By trying it on you it might passwithout notice being drawn to it, and he talked about the size just to puteverybody off. But surely it must mean that the man who shot at you heldthe pistol in his left hand.”
“So we’ve got to look for a left-handed man,” said Loraine thoughtfully.
“Yes, and I’ll tell you another thing. That was what Battle was doinglooking through the golf clubs. He was looking for a left-handed man’s.”
“By Jove,” said Jimmy suddenly.
“What is it?”
“Well, I don’t suppose there’s anything in it, but it’s rather curious.”
He retailed the conversation at tea the day before.
“So Sir Oswald Coote is ambidexterous?” said Bundle.
“Yes. And I remember now on that night at Chimneys—you know, thenight Gerry Wade died—I was watching the bridge and thinking idly howawkwardly someone was dealing—and then realizing that it was becausethey were dealing with the left hand. Of course, it must have been Sir Os-wald.”
They all three looked at each other. Loraine shook her head.
“A man like Sir Oswald Coote! It’s impossible. What could he have togain by it?”
“It seems absurd,” said Jimmy. “And yet—”
“No 7 has his own ways of working,” quoted Bundle softly. “Supposingthis is the way Sir Oswald has really made his fortune?”
“But why stage all that comedy at the Abbey when he’d had the formulaat his own works?”
“There might be ways of explaining that,” said Loraine. “The same lineof argument you used about Mr. O’Rourke. Suspicion had to be divertedfrom him and placed in another quarter.”
Bundle nodded eagerly.
“It all fits in. Suspicion is to fall on Bauer and the Countess. Who onearth would ever dream of suspecting Sir Oswald Coote?”
“I wonder if Battle does,” said Jimmy slowly.
Some chord of memory vibrated in Bundle’s mind. Superintendent Battleplucking an ivy leaf off the millionaire’s coat.
Had Battle suspected all the time?
第二十八章 疑点
第二十八章 疑点
邦德尔和洛兰把那辆西斯巴诺留在了附近的修车厂，当她们走进庭院大门时，刚好是约定的十二点。
看到这两个女孩进来，库特夫人颇为惊讶，但显然又很高兴，寒暄之后，硬是要她们留下来吃午饭。
奥罗克躺坐在一把巨大的扶手椅里，一见到她们立刻就极其兴奋地跟洛兰聊开了；而洛兰则一边聊着，一边听着邦德尔很在行地对西斯巴诺出现的机械故障进行解说。
“我们还说呢，”邦德尔最后说道，“真想不到，这辆车竟然会在这个地方抛锚！上次抛锚是星期天，在一个叫希尔山下小斯佩德灵顿的地方。我跟你们说，那个地方真是名副其实。”
“这个名字用在电影上会相当出彩。”奥罗克说道。
“可能是某个纯洁的乡下姑娘的出生地。”袜子说出了自己的看法。
“奇怪，”库特夫人说道，“塞西杰先生哪儿去了？”
“可能在弹子房，”袜子说道，“我去把他找来。”
她刚走不到一分钟，鲁珀特•贝特曼就来了，他还是跟往常一样，一副愁苦严肃的样子。
“什么事，库特夫人？塞西杰说您找我。你好，艾琳小姐……”
趁他跟自己打招呼的机会，洛兰马上跟他套上了近乎。
“噢，贝特曼先生！我一直想见见你。不是你告诉过我如果狗爪子一直痛该怎么办吗？”
这个秘书摇了摇头。
“肯定是别人跟你说的，韦德小姐。不过，说句实话，我还真的知道——”
“你真了不起，”洛兰打断了他的话，“无所不知。”
“每个人都应该时刻学习新的知识，”贝特曼一本正经地说道，“说说你的狗爪子……”
一旁的特伦斯•奥罗克悄悄地对邦德尔小声说道：
“周报上那些小豆腐块文章就是这种人写的，什么‘如何让铜护栏保持明亮’啦、‘杜泊甲虫是昆虫世界最有趣的一员’啦、‘芬格利斯印地安人的婚俗’啦，等等。”
“其实都是很普通的知识。”
“普通的知识？你还能找到更中听的字眼吗？”奥罗克先生说道，然后装模作样地补充了一句，“谢天谢地，我这个受过教育的人竟然对这些问题一无所知。”
“您这儿可以玩钟面式高尔夫球吧？”邦德尔对库特夫人说道。
“我倒愿意跟你较量一下，艾琳小姐。”奥罗克说道。
“咱们还是组队较量吧，”邦德尔说道，“洛兰，奥罗克先生和我，想跟你和贝特曼先生比一场。”
“一定要打，贝特曼先生，”见这位秘书犹豫不决，库特夫人说道，“这个时候，奥斯瓦德爵士肯定不会有事找你的。”
四个人来到外面的草坪上。
“怎么样，聪明吧？”邦德尔对洛兰耳语道，“为我们女孩子的手段祝贺吧。”
比赛一直持续到将近一点才结束，最后，贝特曼和洛兰赢了。
“我想你会同意我的说法，搭档，”奥罗克先生说道，“我们更有运动员的风范。”
他和邦德尔稍微落后一点点。
“黑猩猩这家伙打得很谨慎……不愿冒任何风险。哼，我就喜欢孤注一掷。这是人生当中一句很好的格言，你不觉得吗，艾琳小组？”
“你没有因为孤注一掷而惹上过麻烦吧？”邦德尔笑着问道。
“当然有，好几百万次呢。不过，我还是奉行这句格言。真的，除非是刽子手的绞索，否则没有什么能够把我击垮。”
这时，只见吉米•塞西杰在房子的一角闲逛。
“邦德尔，没想到你在这儿！”他大声说道。
“你错过了一场精彩的比赛。”奥罗克说道。
“刚才我去散步了，”吉米说道，“这些漂亮的姑娘是从哪儿掉下来的？”
“我们是走路过来的，”邦德尔答道，“西斯巴诺开到半途中抛锚了。”
她又把车子抛锚的经过说了一遍。
吉米专心地听着，一副体谅的神情。
“不走运，”他允诺道，“如果修车要花不少时间的话，吃好饭之后我开车送你们过去吧。”
这时，那面锣又响了，他们全都进了屋子。邦德尔偷偷地观察吉米，发现他说话的声音中带有一种不同寻常的得意腔调，让她觉得一切都很顺利。
午饭之后，他们客气地跟库特夫人道了别，吉米则自告奋勇开着自己的车送她们去修车厂。引擎刚发动，两个女孩子便异口同声地问道：
“怎么样？”
吉米故意卖了个关子。
“什么怎么样？噢，谢谢关心。饼干吃太多了，有些消化不良。”
“出了什么事？”
“告诉你们吧，为了献身事业，我吃了太多的饼干。不过，我们的英雄退缩了吗？不，他没有。”
“唉，吉米——”洛兰嗔怪道。
吉米的心一软。“你们想知道什么？”
“噢，一切。我们干得不漂亮吗？我是说我们缠住了黑猩猩和特伦斯•奥罗克。”
“祝贺你们把黑猩猩玩得团团转。奥罗克可能还容易对付……但黑猩猩就大大不同了。
只有一个词才可以形容他……上个星期的《星期日新闻荟萃》上的字谜游戏中有这个词——无所不在，说得太准确了。你到哪儿都没办法避开他……更糟的是他冒出来时还没声音。”
“你觉得他很危险吗？”
“危险？他当然没危险。谁会想到黑猩猩危险？太搞笑了。他就是一头蠢驴。不过，就像我刚刚说的，他是一头无所不在的蠢驴。他甚至不像一般人那样需要睡眠。老实说，这小子就是个该死的讨厌鬼。”
然后，吉米有些愤愤不平地把昨天晚上的事情叙述了一遍。
可是邦德尔并没有表示同情。
“我不知道你去那里偷偷摸摸地在干些什么。”
“为了七点钟，”吉米的回答很干脆，“我在找七点钟。”“你觉得在这幢房子里能找到七点钟？”
“我原本以为可以找到一点线索。”
“但你没有？”
“昨天晚上没有……没找到。”
“可是今天上午，”洛兰突然插嘴道，“吉米，你肯定有了发现。看你的脸我就知道。”
“唉，也不知道有没有用。我在闲逛的时候……”
“你应该没有逛很远吧。”
“没多远，可以说只是在宅子里绕了个圈子。好啦，我刚才说过了，我不知道有没有用，我找到的是这个。”
他像变魔术似的取出了一只小瓶，抛给了两个女孩子。瓶子里面装着半瓶白色粉末。
“里面是什么？”邦德尔问道。
“一种白色粉末，这不是明摆着吗？”吉米说道，“对于爱读侦探小说的人来说，‘白色粉末’这个字眼一定不会陌生，而且有暗示作用。当然，如果化验结果证明它只是一种新型的牙粉，那就太令我失望和懊恼了。”
“你在哪儿找到的？”邦德尔突然问道。
“哦！”吉米说道，“这个可不能说。”
无论她们俩再怎么威逼利诱，吉米也毫不松口。
“修车厂到了，”他说道，“但愿高贵的西斯巴诺没有受委屈。”
修车厂的伙计递上一张五先令的账单，含糊其辞地说大概是几个螺母松了。邦德尔甜甜地一笑，支付了修理费。
“想想我们不用干活就有钱拿，真是不错啊。”她小声地对吉米说道。
他们三个人站在路上，谁也没有说话，每个人都在想着心事。
“我想起来了。”邦德尔突然说道。
“想起什么了？”
“我打算要问你的……差点儿忘了。你还记得巴特尔警司找到的那只手套吗？差不多烧没了的手套？”
“记得。”
“你不是说过他要你戴上试试？”
“嗯……稍稍大了些。说明戴手套的应该是个大块头。”
“我操心的可不是这个。大小没关系。当时，乔治和奥斯瓦德爵士都在场吧？”
“都在。”
“他完全可以请他们中的任何一位试试吧？”
“是的，当然……”
“可他没有，偏偏选了你。吉米，你不觉得有意思吗？”
塞西杰先生直愣愣地看着她。
“抱歉，邦德尔。今天我的脑袋瓜不像往常那么灵光，我不明白你在说些什么。”
“你明白吗，洛兰？”
洛兰摇了摇头，好奇地看着她。
“有什么特别吗？”
“当然有啦。你没瞧见吗……吉米的右手吊着绷带。”
“啊呀，邦德尔，”吉米缓缓地说道，“现在想想是有些奇怪，那是左手戴的手套。但巴特尔什么都没说。”
“他不想让人注意。让你来试就是为了转移注意，而且他只谈了手套的大小。但可以肯定的是，朝你开枪的人一定是左手拿枪。”
“这么说我们只要找左撇子就行了。”洛兰若有所思地说道。
“对，我还要跟你们说另外一件事。巴特尔曾经在一堆高尔夫球杆里翻来翻去，我想他是在找左撇子用的球杆。”
“哎呀！”吉米突然说道。
“怎么啦？”
“哦，没什么，只是有些奇怪。”
他把前一天在喝下午茶时的那番对话详细地叙述了一遍。
“这么说，奥斯瓦德•库特爵士能够双手并用？”邦德尔问道。
“对。而且我现在想起了在烟囱别墅的那天晚上……就是格里•韦德死的那天晚上……我闲着没事看他们打桥牌，但总觉得挺别扭的……后来才意识到有个人是用左手发牌。当然，那个人一定是奥斯瓦德爵士。”
三个人面面相觑。洛兰摇了摇头。
“像奥斯瓦德•库特爵士那样的人……不可能。他能从中得到什么好处？”
“看起来不合情理，”吉米说道，“不过……”
“七点钟有自己的一套，”邦德尔轻声说道，她想起了当初在七面钟俱乐部那个俄国人说的话，“万一奥斯瓦德爵士就是这样发迹的呢？”
“可是配方就在他自己的工厂里，何必在双足飞龙教堂来这么一场闹剧呢？”
“可能有很多种解释，”洛兰说道，“这跟你分析奥罗克先生是一样的。他不能引起别人对他的怀疑。”
邦德尔急切地点了点头。
“全都对上了。大家会怀疑包尔和伯爵夫人，谁会去怀疑奥斯瓦德•库特爵士？！”
“巴特尔可能怀疑到了。”吉米不紧不慢地说道。
邦德尔的记忆之弦又被拨动了——巴特尔警司从那个百万富翁的外套上弹下过一片常春藤的叶子。
巴特尔一开始就在怀疑他吗？
Twenty-nine SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX
Twenty-nine SINGULAR BEHAVIOUR OF GEORGE LOMAX

“Mr. Lomax is here, my lord.”
Lord Caterham started violently, for, absorbed in the intricacies of whatnot to do with the left wrist, he had not heard the butler approach over thesoft turf. He looked at Tredwell more in sorrow than in anger.
“I told you at breakfast, Tredwell, that I should be particularly engagedthis morning.”
“Yes, my lord, but—”
“Go and tell Mr. Lomax that you have made a mistake, that I am out inthe village, that I am laid up with the gout, or, if all else fails, that I amdead.”
“Mr. Lomax, my lord, has already caught sight of your lordship whendriving up the drive.”
Lord Caterham sighed deeply.
“He would. Very well, Tredwell, I am coming.”
In a manner highly characteristic, Lord Caterham was always most gen-ial when his feelings were in reality the reverse. He greeted George nowwith a heartiness quite unparalleled.
“My dear fellow, my dear fellow. Delighted to see you. Absolutely de-lighted. Sit down. Have a drink. Well, well, this is splendid!”
And having pushed George into a large armchair, he sat down oppositehim and blinked nervously.
“I wanted to see you very particularly,” said George.
“Oh!” said Lord Caterham faintly, and his heart sank, whilst his mindraced actively over all the dread possibilities that might lie behind thatsimple phrase.
“Very particularly,” said George with heavy emphasis.
Lord Caterham’s heart sank lower than ever. He felt that something wascoming worse than anything he had yet thought of.
“Yes?” he said, with a courageous attempt at nonchalance.
“Is Eileen at home?”
Lord Caterham felt reprieved, but slightly surprised.
“Yes, yes,” he said. “Bundle’s here. Got that friend of hers with her—thelittle Wade girl. Very nice girl—very nice girl. Going to be quite a goodgolfer one day. Nice easy swing—”
He was chatting garrulously on when George interrupted with ruthless-ness:
“I am glad that Eileen is at home. Perhaps I might have an interviewwith her presently?”
“Certainly, my dear fellow, certainly.” Lord Caterham still felt very sur-prised, but was still enjoying the sensation of reprieve. “If it doesn’t boreyou.”
“Nothing could bore me less,” said George. “I think, Caterham, if I maysay so, that you hardly appreciate the fact that Eileen is grown up. She isno longer a child. She is a woman, and, if I may say so, a very charmingand talented woman. The man who succeeds in winning her love will beextremely lucky. I repeat it—extremely lucky.”
“Oh, I daresay,” said Lord Caterham. “But she’s very restless, you know.
Never content to be in one place for more than two minutes together.
However, I daresay young fellows don’t mind that nowadays.”
“You mean that she is not content to stagnate. Eileen has brains, Cater-ham; she is ambitious. She interests herself in the questions of the day,and brings her fresh and vivid young intellect to bear upon them.”
Lord Caterham stared at him. It occurred to him that what was so oftenreferred to as “the strain of modern life” had begun to tell upon George.
Certainly his description of Bundle seemed to Lord Caterham ludicrouslyunlike.
“Are you sure you are feeling quite well?” he asked anxiously.
George waved the inquiry aside impatiently.
“Perhaps, Caterham, you begin to have some inkling of my purpose invisiting you this morning. I am not a man to undertake fresh responsibilit-ies lightly. I have a proper sense, I hope, of what is due to the position Ihold. I have given this matter my deep and earnest consideration. Mar-riage, especially at my age, is not to be undertaken without full—er—con-sideration. Equality of birth, similarity of tastes, general suitability, andthe same religious creed—all these things are necessary and the pros andcons have to be weighed and considered. I can, I think, offer my wife a po-sition in society that is not to be despised. Eileen will grace that positionadmirably. By birth and breeding she is fitted for it, and her brains andher acute political sense cannot but further my career to our mutual ad-vantage. I am aware, Caterham, that there is—er—some disparity in years.
But I can assure you that I feel full of vigour—in my prime. The balance ofyears should be on the husband’s side. And Eileen has serious tastes—anolder man will suit her better than some young jackanapes without eitherexperience or savoir faire. I can assure you, my dear Caterham, that I willcherish her—er—exquisite youth; I will cherish it—er—it will be appreci-ated. To watch the exquisite flower of her mind unfolding—what a priv-ilege! And to think that I never realized—”
He shook his head deprecatingly and Lord Caterham, finding his voicewith difficulty, said blankly:
“Do I understand you to mean—ah, my dear fellow, you can’t want tomarry Bundle?”
“You are surprised. I suppose to you it seems sudden. I have your per-mission, then, to speak to her?”
“Oh, yes,” said Lord Caterham. “If it’s permission you want—of courseyou can. But you know, Lomax, I really shouldn’t if I were you. Just gohome and think it over like a good fellow. Count twenty. All that sort ofthing. Always a pity to propose and make a fool of yourself.”
“I daresay you mean your advice kindly, Caterham, though I must con-fess that you put it somewhat strangely. But I have made up my mind toput my fortune to the test. I may see Eileen?”
“Oh, it’s nothing to do with me,” said Lord Caterham hastily; “Eileensettles her own affairs. If she came to me tomorrow and said she was go-ing to marry the chauffeur, I shouldn’t make any objections. It’s the onlyway nowadays. Your children can make life damned unpleasant if youdon’t give in to them in every way. I say to Bundle, ‘Do as you like, butdon’t worry me,’ and really, on the whole, she is amazingly good about it.”
George stood up intent upon his purpose.
“Where shall I find her?”
“Well, really, I don’t know,” said Lord Caterham vaguely. “She might beanywhere. As I told you just now, she’s never in the same place for twominutes together. No repose.”
“And I suppose Miss Wade will be with her? It seems to me, Caterham,that the best plan would be for you to ring the bell and ask your butler tofind her, saying that I wish to speak to her for a few minutes.”
Lord Caterham pressed the bell obediently.
“Oh, Tredwell,” he said, when the bell was answered. “Just find her lady-ship, will you. Tell her Mr. Lomax is anxious to speak to her in the draw-ing room.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Tredwell withdrew. George seized Lord Caterham’s hand and wrung itwarmly, much to the latter’s discomfort.
“A thousand thanks,” he said. “I hope soon to bring you good news.”
He hastened from the room.
“Well,” said Lord Caterham. “Well!”
And after a long pause:
“What has Bundle been up to?”
The door opened again.
“Mr. Eversleigh, my lord.”
As Bill hastened in, Lord Caterham caught his hand and spoke earnestly.
“Hullo, Bill. You’re looking for Lomax, I suppose? Look here, if you wantto do a good turn, hurry to the drawing room and tell him the Cabinethave called an immediate meeting, or get him away somehow. It’s reallynot fair to let the poor devil make an ass of himself all for some silly girl’sprank.”
“I’ve not come for Codders,” said Bill. “Didn’t know he was here. It’sBundle I want to see. Is she anywhere about?”
“You can’t see her,” said Lord Caterham. “Not just now, at any rate.
George is with her.”
“Well—what does it matter?”
“I think it does rather,” said Lord Caterham. “He’s probably splutteringhorribly at this minute, and we mustn’t do anything to make it worse forhim.”
“But what is he saying?”
“Heaven knows,” said Lord Caterham. “A lot of damned nonsense, any-way. Never say too much, that was always my motto. Grab the girl’s handand let events take their course.”
Bill stared at him.
“But look here, sir, I’m in a hurry. I must talk to Bundle—”
“Well, I don’t suppose you’ll have to wait long. I must confess I’m ratherglad to have you here with me—I suppose Lomax will insist on comingback and talking to me when it’s all over.”
“When what’s all over? What is Lomax supposed to be doing?”
“Hush,” said Lord Caterham. “He’s proposing.”
“Proposing? Proposing what?”
“Marriage. To Bundle. Don’t ask me why. I suppose he’s come to whatthey call the dangerous age. I can’t explain it any other way.”
“Proposing to Bundle? The dirty swine. At his age.”
Bill’s face grew crimson.
“He says he’s in the prime of life,” said Lord Caterham cautiously.
“He? Why, he’s decrepit—senile! I—” Bill positively choked.
“Not at all,” said Lord Caterham coldly. “He’s five years younger than Iam.”
“Of all the damned cheek! Codders and Bundle! A girl like Bundle! Yououghtn’t to have allowed it.”
“I never interfere,” said Lord Caterham.
“You ought to have told him what you thought of him.”
“Unfortunately modern civilization rules that out,” said Lord Caterhamregretfully. “In the Stone Age now—but, dear me, I suppose even then Ishouldn’t be able to do it—being a small man.”
“Bundle! Bundle! Why, I’ve never dared to ask Bundle to marry me be-cause I knew she’d only laugh. And George—a disgusting windbag, an un-scrupulous hypocritical old hot air merchant—a foul, poisonous self-ad-vertiser—”
“Go on,” said Lord Caterham. “I am enjoying this.”
“My God!” said Bill simply and with feeling. “Look here, I must be off.”
“No, no, don’t go. I’d much rather you stayed. Besides, you want to seeBundle.”
“Not now. This has driven everything else out of my head. You don’tknow where Jimmy Thesiger is by any chance? I believe he was stayingwith the Cootes. Is he there still?”
“I think he went back to town yesterday. Bundle and Loraine were overthere on Saturday. If you’ll only wait—”
But Bill shook his head energetically and rushed from the room. LordCaterham tiptoed out into the hall, seized a hat and made a hurried exit bythe side door. In the distance he observed Bill streaking down the drive inhis car.
“That young man will have an accident,” he thought.
Bill, however, reached London without any mischance, and proceededto park his car in St. James’s Square. Then he sought out Jimmy Thesiger’srooms. Jimmy was at home.
“Hullo, Bill. I say, what’s the matter? You don’t look your usual brightlittle self.”
“I’m worried,” said Bill. “I was worried anyway, and then somethingelse turned up and gave me a jolt.”
“Oh!” said Jimmy. “How lucid! What’s it all about? Can I do anything?”
Bill did not reply. He sat staring at the carpet and looking so puzzledand uncomfortable that Jimmy felt his curiosity aroused.
“Has anything very extraordinary occurred, William?” he asked gently.
“Something damned odd. I can’t make head or tail of it.”
“The Seven Dials business?”
“Yes—the Seven Dials business. I got a letter this morning.”
“A letter? What sort of letter?”
“A letter from Ronny Devereux’s executors.”
“Good lord! After all this time!”
“It seems he left instructions. If he was to die suddenly, a certain sealedenvelope was to be sent to me exactly a fortnight after his death.”
“And they’ve sent it to you?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Well—what did it say?”
Bill turned a glance upon him, such a strange and uncertain one thatJimmy was startled.
“Look here,” he said. “Pull yourself together, old man. It seems to haveknocked the wind out of you, whatever it is. Have a drink.”
He poured out a stiff whisky and soda and brought it over to Bill, whotook it obediently. His face still bore the same dazed expression.
“It’s what’s in the letter,” he said. “I simply can’t believe it, that’s all.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Jimmy. “You must get into the habit of believing siximpossible things before breakfast. I do it regularly. Now then, let’s hearall about it. Wait a minute.”
He went outside.
“Stevens!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Just go out and get me some cigarettes, will you? I’ve run out.”
“Very good, sir.”
Jimmy waited till he heard the front door close. Then he came back intothe sitting room. Bill was just in the act of setting down his empty glass. Helooked better, more purposeful and more master of himself.
“Now then,” said Jimmy. “I’ve sent Stevens out so that we can’t be over-heard. Are you going to tell me all about it?”
“It’s so incredible.”
“Then it’s sure to be true. Come on, out with it.”
Bill drew a deep breath.
“I will. I’ll tell you everything.”
第二十九章 乔治·洛马克斯的异常举动
第二十九章 乔治•洛马克斯的异常举动
“洛马克斯先生来了，老爷。”
凯特勒姆勋爵吓了一大跳，他正全神贯注地琢磨该怎么避免使用左手腕力，丝毫没有察觉管家踏着软乎乎的草坪走过来。他看着特雷德韦尔，眼神中与其说是生气，不如说是悲哀。
“吃早饭的时候我不是跟你说了嘛，特雷德韦尔，今天上午我特别忙。”
“是的，老爷，可是……”
“去跟洛马克斯先生说你弄错了，说我到村子里去了，说我得痛风起不来了。实在不行的话，就说我死了。”
“老爷，洛马克斯先生开车过来时已经看见您了。”
凯特勒姆勋爵重重地叹了口气。
“有可能。好吧，特雷德韦尔，我就来。”
凯特勒姆勋爵是一个很有特点的人，当他表现出和蔼可亲时，实际上他内心的情感却可能正好相反。此时，他正以无比的热情欢迎乔治的到来。
“老兄，我亲爱的老兄，真高兴见到你，高兴极了。请坐，喝点什么。嗯，嗯，很好！”
他连推带拉地把乔治按到一把大扶手椅上，自己则在他的对面坐下，不安地眨着眼睛。
“我特别想见见你。”乔治说道。
“哦！”凯特勒姆勋爵敷衍地说道，他的心往下一沉，脑子却飞快地转动，思索着这一句简单的话语背后所暗藏的各种可怕的可能性。
“特别特别想。”乔治又强调了一遍。
凯特勒姆勋爵的心越发往下沉。他觉得事情可能比自己想象的还要糟。
“什么事？”他努力显出一副若无其事的样子。
“艾琳在家吗？”
凯特勒姆勋爵松了口气，但又稍稍吃了一惊。
“在，在，”他答道。“邦德尔在家，正和她的朋友在一起……那个叫韦德的小女孩。非常不错的女孩子……很不错，将来准会成为一个非常出色的高尔夫球手，打球的动作相当优美——”
他喋喋不休地想继续说下去，但乔治毫不客气地打断了他。
“很高兴艾琳在家，现在我可以跟她说说话吗？”
“当然可以，亲爱的老兄，当然可以。”凯特勒姆勋爵仍然感到惊讶，不过内心也泛出了如释重负的欣喜。“要是你不嫌麻烦的话。”
“一点儿也不麻烦，”乔治说道，“凯特勒姆，恕我直言，你几乎没有意识到艾琳已经长大成人。她不再是个小孩子了，她已经是个成熟的女性了，照我说，是个很有才气和魅力的女性了。要是哪个男人能赢得她的芳心，他真是幸运极了。我再说一遍……幸运极了。”
“噢，也许吧，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“但她是个闲不住的人，从来就不肯在一个地方安安心心地待上几分钟。不过，现在的年轻人也许不在乎这个吧。”
“她那是不喜欢死气沉沉。艾琳有头脑，凯特勒姆，而且有抱负。她对当今的一些问题很有兴趣，而且愿意用清新生动的年轻头脑去思考。”
凯特勒姆勋爵直愣愣地盯着他。他怀疑乔治也得上了人们常常说的那种“现代生活压力症”。在他看来，乔治对邦德尔的这番描述完全是荒唐可笑。
“你没什么不舒服吧？”他不安地问道。
乔治不耐烦地摆了摆手。
“凯特勒姆，也许，你对我今天上午来拜访你的意图也略知一二了吧。我这个人从来就不会草率地承担新的责任。我想，我对自己的身份和地位还是有恰如其分的认识的。这件事我已经深思熟虑过了。婚姻，尤其是对我这么个年龄的人来说，不经过……呃……全面缜密的考虑是不会草率行事的。门当户对、志趣相投、大致相配，还有相同的宗教信仰……这一切都是必不可少的，而且还要权衡利弊得失。我想，我能够给艾琳一个不容轻视的社会地位，艾琳也会为这个地位增添光彩。论出身和教养她都很般配，而且她的智慧和敏锐的政治头脑只会给我助力，让我们双方更上一层楼。凯特勒姆，我知道……呃……年龄上我们是有一些差距，不过你完全可以放心，我精力充沛……正是最旺盛的时候。丈夫的年龄大一点无所谓。再说，艾琳是个情趣严肃的人……年龄大一些的男人比既缺乏经验又没有才干的纨绔子弟更适合她。我可以向你保证，我亲爱的凯特勒姆，我会珍爱她……呃……她的美妙青春，我会疼惜她……呃……她的青春会得到我的疼惜的。看到她的心扉在我眼前像花朵一样绽放……那是多么的荣幸啊！但一想到如果我实现不了……”
他恳求地晃了晃头。凯特勒姆勋爵见他有些话说不出口，便一脸茫然地说道：
“老兄，你该不会是……想娶邦德尔为妻吧？”
“你肯定很吃惊，对你来说太突然了。那么，能不能让我跟她谈谈？”
“噢，可以，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“如果你想得到我的允许……当然可以。不过听我说，洛马克斯，换成是我，我真的不会这样做。回家再好好想一想吧。数二十下，掂量掂量再说。求婚不成总是丢人现眼的。”
“凯特勒姆，我知道你是一番好意，但我必须说你的这种说法有些奇怪。我已经下定决心了，可以见见艾琳吗？”
“噢，这跟我没关系，”凯特勒姆勋爵赶忙说道，“艾琳的事向来都是她自己拿主意。要是她明天跑过来告诉我她要嫁给开车的司机，我也不会反对的。现在就是这个样子。如果你对孩子不是百依百顺，他们就会闹翻天，搞得你不得安宁。我跟邦德尔说，‘你爱怎样就怎样，只要不来烦我就行。’好在总体上，真的，她的表现还是好极了。”
乔治站起身来，打算去实现此行的目的。
“我上哪儿能找到她？”
“唉，说真的，我不知道，”凯特勒姆勋爵含糊其辞地说道，“哪儿都有可能。就像刚才我说的，她在一个地方从来待不住两分钟，一刻也闲不住。”
“我猜韦德小姐大概跟她在一起吧？依我看，凯特勒姆，最好还是你把管家叫来，吩咐他去找找，说我想跟她谈几分钟。”
凯特勒姆勋爵按照乔治的意思按响了铃。
“噢，特雷德韦尔，”见管家应声开门进来，他说道，“去把小姐找来，跟她说洛马克斯先生急着要在客厅跟她说几句话。”
“好的，老爷。”
特雷德韦尔退了出去。乔治紧紧抓起凯特勒姆勋爵的手，热情地握着，握得凯特勒姆很不舒服。
“万分感谢，”他说道，“但愿你能得到好消息。”
他匆匆忙忙地离开了房间。
“唉，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“唉！”
安静了好大一会儿，他又自言自语道：
“邦德尔到底干了些什么呀？”
房门又被打开了。
“埃弗斯利先生找您，老爷。”
比尔一进来，凯特勒姆勋爵就抓住他的手，急切地说道：
“嗨，比尔，你大概是来找洛马克斯吧？听我说，如果你愿意帮忙，赶快到客厅去跟他说内阁要召开紧急会议，或是随便找个借口把他支走。让那个可怜的家伙出洋相就太不应该了。”
“我不是来找老鳕鱼的，”比尔说道，“我不知道他也在这儿。我想见的是邦德尔，她在吗？”
“你不能见她，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“反正现在不行。乔治正跟她在一起。”
“哦……这有什么关系？”
“我想确实有点关系，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“此刻他也许正语无伦次呢，我们千万不能再给他雪上加霜了。”
“他在说些什么呢？”
“天知道，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“反正是一大堆该死的胡话。别多嘴，这一直是我的座右铭。抓住女孩的手，顺其自然就是了。”
比尔瞪着他。
“听我说，先生，我有急事。我必须跟邦德尔谈谈……”
“哦，我猜你用不着等多久。老实说，有你在这儿我很高兴……洛马克斯要是没希望了，我想他还是会坚持回来再跟我谈的。”
“什么没希望？洛马克斯在干什么？”
“嘘，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“他在求婚。”
“求婚？求什么婚？”
“向邦德尔求婚。不要问我为什么，我猜他大概是到了人们所谓的危险年龄。我只能这样解释。”
“向邦德尔求婚？这个下流坯，都这么一大把年纪了。”
比尔的脸涨得通红。
“他说他正当壮年，最旺盛的时候。”凯特勒姆勋爵小心地说道。
“他？啊呀，他都老得……老得不中用了！我……”比尔气得说不出话来。
“不见得，”凯特勒姆勋爵冷冷地说道，“他比我小五岁。”
“真是脸皮厚到极点！老鳕鱼跟邦德尔？像邦德尔那样的女孩子？你不应该答应的。”
“我从来不干涉。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道。
“你应该告诉他你对他的印象。”
“可惜现代文明不允许呀，”凯特勒姆勋爵不无遗憾地说道，“如果是在石器时代……啊呀，就算是那个时代我恐怕也无能为力……不能做个小人。”
“邦德尔！邦德尔！唉，我从不敢开口要邦德尔嫁给我，因为我知道她听了会一笑了之。而乔治……让人作呕的家伙，夸夸其谈、寡廉鲜耻的伪君子……卑鄙下流、自吹自擂的混蛋……”
“接着说，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“我喜欢听。”
“天哪！”比尔干脆地说道，“听我说，我待不下去了。”
“不，不，不要走。我很想你留下来。再说了，你不是还要见邦德尔吗？”
“现在不见了，我一点心思都没了。你不会碰巧知道吉米•塞西杰在哪儿吧？我相信他前段时间住在库特家。他还在那儿吗？”
“他可能在昨天回城里去了。邦德尔和洛兰星期六去过那儿。如果你肯等一下……”
比尔使劲摇了摇头，冲出了房间。凯特勒姆勋爵踮着脚走进外面的大厅，抓起一顶帽子急忙从侧门跟了出来。远处，他看到比尔开着车一溜烟跑了。
“这样会出事的。”他心想。
然而，比尔却平平安安地到了伦敦。他先把车停在圣詹姆斯广场，然后找到了吉米•塞西杰的住处。吉米正好在家。
“嗨，比尔。怎么啦？你看起来不像平常那么快活嘛。”
“我正担心呢，”比尔说道，“我本来就担心，接着又出了一件事，令我震惊。”
“噢！”吉米说，“明白了！是什么事？我能帮上忙吗？”
比尔没有回答。他坐在那儿，眼睛看着地毯，看上去困窘不安。吉米一下子觉得很好奇。
“是不是碰到了什么怪事，比尔？”他轻声问道。
“怪极了，我搞不懂是怎么回事。”
“跟七面钟有关？”
“嗯……跟七面钟有关。今天上午我收到了一封信。”
“一封信？什么样的信？”
“罗尼•德弗卢的遗嘱执行人寄来的信。”
“天哪！都这么久了！”
“好像他留下了什么话，说如果他突然身故，会叫别人把一个封好口的信在他死后两个星期寄给我。”
“已经寄给你了？”
“嗯。”
“你打开看过了？”
“是。”
“哦……里面有些什么？”
比尔瞥了吉米一眼，眼神中流露出的怪异和难以琢磨，不由得令吉米吃了一惊。
“听我说，”他说道，“振作一点，老兄。不管信里是什么，好像你都被吓着了。先喝一杯压压惊吧。”
他倒了一杯加苏打水的威士忌递给比尔，比尔顺从地接过来喝了，但他的脸上仍然是刚才那副茫然的表情。
“信上说的东西，”他说道，“简直匪夷所思。”
“噢，胡说，”吉米说道，“你必须养成习惯，相信吃早饭之前会发生六件不可能的事。
我经常是这样。好了，说来听听吧。请等一下。”
他走了出去。
“史蒂文斯？”
“有什么吩咐，先生？”
“出去买些香烟，好吗？我抽完了。”
“好的，先生。”
吉米一直等到听见前门关上的声音，才又回到客厅。
比尔正好放下手中的空杯子。他看起来好多了，比刚才坚强了一些，也更能控制自己了。
“好了，”吉米说道，“我把史蒂文斯打发出去了，没有人会偷听我们的谈话。你打算把一切都告诉我吗？”
“太匪夷所思了。”
“那么肯定是真的。好了，都说出来吧。”
比尔深深地吸了一口气。
“我会的，把一切都告诉你。”
Thirty AN URGENT SUMMONS
Thirty AN URGENT SUMMONS

Loraine, playing with a small and delectable puppy, was somewhat sur-prised when Bundle rejoined her after an absence of twenty minutes, in abreathless state and with an indescribable expression on her face.
“Whoof,” said Bundle, sinking on to a garden seat. “Whoof.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Loraine, looking at her curiously.
“George is the matter—George Lomax.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“Proposing to me. It was awful. He spluttered and he stuttered, but hewould go through with it—he must have learnt it out of a book, I think.
There was no stopping him. Oh, how I hate men who splutter! And, unfor-tunately, I didn’t know the reply.”
“You must have known what you wanted to do.”
“Naturally I’m not going to marry an apologetic idiot like George. What Imean is, I didn’t know the correct reply from the book of etiquette. I couldonly just say flatly: ‘No, I won’t.’ What I ought to have said was somethingabout being very sensible of the honour he had done me and so on and soon. But I got so rattled that in the end I jumped out of the window andbolted.”
“Really, Bundle, that’s not like you.”
“Well, I never dreamt of such a thing happening. George—who I alwaysthought hated me—and he did too. What a fatal thing it is to pretend totake an interest in a man’s pet subject. You should have heard the drivelGeorge talked about my girlish mind and the pleasure it would be to formit. My mind! If George knew one quarter of what was going on in mymind, he’d faint with horror!”
Loraine laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“Oh, I know it’s my own fault. I let myself in for this. There’s Fatherdodging round that rhododendron. Hallo, Father.”
Lord Caterham approached with a hangdog expression.
“Lomax gone, eh?” he remarked with somewhat forced geniality.
“A nice business you let me in for,” said Bundle. “George told me he hadyour full approval and sanction.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, “what did you expect me to say? As a mat-ter of fact, I didn’t say that at all, or anything like it.”
“I didn’t really think so,” said Bundle. “I assumed that George had talkedyou into a corner and reduced you to such a state that you could only nodyour head feebly.”
“That’s very much what happened. How did he take it? Badly?”
“I didn’t wait to see,” said Bundle. “I’m afraid I was rather abrupt.”
“Oh well,” said Lord Caterham. “Perhaps that was the best way. Thankgoodness in the future Lomax won’t always be running over as he hasbeen in the habit of doing, worrying me about things. Everything is for thebest they say. Have you seen my jigger anywhere?”
“A mashie shot or two would steady my nerves, I think,” said Bundle.
“I’ll take you on for sixpence, Loraine.”
An hour passed very peacefully. The three returned to the house in aharmonious spirit. A note lay on the hall table.
“Mr. Lomax left that for you, my lord,” explained Tredwell. “He wasmuch disappointed to find that you had gone out.”
Lord Caterham tore it open. He uttered a pained ejaculation and turnedupon his daughter. Tredwell had retired.
“Really, Bundle, you might have made yourself clear, I think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, read this.”
Bundle took it and read:
“My dear Caterham,—I am sorry not to have had a wordwith you. I thought I made it clear that I wanted to see youagain after my interview with Eileen. She, dear child, wasevidently quite unaware of the feelings I entertained to-wards her. She was, I am afraid, much startled. I have nowish to hurry her in any way. Her girlish confusion wasvery charming, and I entertain an even higher regard forher, as I much appreciate her maidenly reserve. I mustgive her time to become accustomed to the idea. Her veryconfusion shows that she is not wholly indifferent to meand I have no doubts of my ultimate success.
Believe me, dear Caterham,
Your sincere friend,
George Lomax.”
“Well,” said Bundle. “Well, I’m damned!”
Words failed her.
“The man must be mad,” said Lord Caterham. “No one could write thosethings about you, Bundle, unless they were slightly touched in the head.
Poor chap, poor chap. But what persistence! I don’t wonder he got into theCabinet. It would serve him right if you did marry him, Bundle.”
The telephone rang and Bundle moved forward to answer it. In anotherminute George and his proposal were forgotten, and she was beckoningeagerly to Loraine. Lord Caterham went off to his own sanctum.
“It’s Jimmy,” said Bundle. “And he’s tremendously excited about some-thing.”
“Thank goodness I’ve caught you,” said Jimmy’s voice. “There’s no timeto be lost. Loraine’s there, too?”
“Yes, she’s here.”
“Well, look here, I haven’t got time to explain everything—in fact, I can’tthrough the telephone. But Bill has been round to see me with the mostamazing story you ever heard. If it’s true—well, if it’s true, it’s the biggestscoop of the century. Now, look here, this is what you’ve got to do. Comeup to town at once, both of you. Garage the car somewhere and go straightto the Seven Dials Club. Do you think that when you get there you can getrid of that footman fellow?”
“Alfred? Rather. You leave that to me.”
“Good. Get rid of him and watch out for me and Bill. Don’t showyourselves at the windows, but when we drive up, let us in at once. See?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all right then. Oh, Bundle, don’t let on that you’re going up totown. Make some other excuse. Say your taking Loraine home. Howwould that do?”
“Splendidly. I say, Jimmy, I’m thrilled to the core.”
“And you might as well make your will before starting.”
“Better and better. But I wish I knew what it was all about.”
“You will as soon as we meet. I’ll tell you this much. We’re going to getready the hell of a surprise for No 7!”
Bundle hung up the receiver and turned to Loraine, giving her a rapidrésumé of the conversation. Loraine rushed upstairs and hurriedlypacked her suitcase, and Bundle put her head round her father’s door.
“I’m taking Loraine home, Father.”
“Why? I had no idea she was going today.”
“They want her back,” said Bundle vaguely. “Just telephoned. Bye-bye.”
“Here, Bundle, wait a minute. When will you be home?”
“Don’t know. Expect me when you see me.”
With this unceremonious exit Bundle rushed upstairs, put a hat on,slipped into her fur coat and was ready to start. She had already orderedthe Hispano to be brought round.
The journey to London was without adventure, except such as was ha-bitually provided by Bundle’s driving. They left the car at a garage andproceeded direct to the Seven Dials Club.
The door was opened to them by Alfred. Bundle pushed her way pasthim without ceremony and Loraine followed.
“Shut the door, Alfred,” said Bundle. “Now, I’ve come here especially todo you a good turn. The police are after you.”
“Oh, my lady!”
Alfred turned chalk white.
“I’ve come to warn you because you did me a good turn the other night,”
went on Bundle rapidly. “There’s a warrant out for Mr. Mosgorovsky, andthe best thing you can do is to clear out of here as quick as you can. Ifyou’re not found here, they won’t bother about you. Here’s ten pounds tohelp you get away somewhere.”
In three minutes’ time an incoherent and badly scared Alfred had left 14Hunstanton Street with only one idea in his head—never to return.
“Well, I’ve managed that all right,” said Bundle with satisfaction.
“Was it necessary to be so—well, drastic?” Loraine demurred.
“It’s safer,” said Bundle. “I don’t know what Jimmy and Bill are up to,but we don’t want Alfred coming back in the middle of it and wreckingeverything. Hallo, here they are. Well, they haven’t wasted much time.
Probably watching round the corner to see Alfred leave. Go down andopen the door to them, Loraine.”
Loraine obeyed. Jimmy Thesiger alighted from the driving seat.
“You stop here for a moment, Bill,” he said. “Blow the horn if you thinkanyone’s watching the place.”
He ran up the steps and banged the door behind him. He looked pinkand elated.
“Hallo, Bundle, there you are. Now then, we’ve got to get down to it.
Where’s the key of the room you got into last time?”
“It was one of the downstairs keys. We’d better bring the lot up.”
“Right you are, but be quick. Time’s short.”
The key was easily found, the baize- lined door swung back and thethree entered. The room was exactly as Bundle had seen it before, withthe seven chairs grouped round the table. Jimmy surveyed it for a minuteor two in silence. Then his eyes went to the two cupboards.
“Which is the cupboard you hid in, Bundle?”
“This one.”
Jimmy went to it and flung the door open. The same collection of miscel-laneous glassware covered the shelves.
“We shall have to shift all this stuff,” he murmured. “Run down and getBill, Loraine. There’s no need for him to keep watch outside any longer.”
Loraine ran off.
“What are you going to do?” inquired Bundle impatiently.
Jimmy was down on his knees, trying to peer through the crack of theother cupboard door.
“Wait till Bill comes and you shall hear the whole story. This is his staffwork—and a jolly creditable bit of work it is. Hallo—what’s Loraine flyingup the stairs for as though she’s got a mad bull after her?”
Loraine was indeed racing up the stairs as fast as she could. She burst inupon them with an ashen face and terror in her eyes.
“Bill—Bill—Oh, Bundle—Bill!”
“What about Bill?”
Jimmy caught her by the shoulder.
“For God’s sake, Loraine, what’s happened?”
Loraine was still gasping.
“Bill—I think he’s dead—he’s in the car still—but he doesn’t move orspeak. I’m sure he’s dead.”
Jimmy muttered an oath and sprang for the stairs, Bundle behind him,her heart pounding unevenly and an awful feeling of desolation spreadingover her.
Bill—dead? Oh, no! Oh, no! Not that. Please God—not that.
Together she and Jimmy reached the car, Loraine behind them.
Jimmy peered under the hood. Bill was sitting as he had left him, lean-ing back. But his eyes were closed and Jimmy’s pull at his arm brought noresponse.
“I can’t understand it,” muttered Jimmy. “But he’s not dead. Cheer up,Bundle. Look here, we’ve got to get him into the house. Let’s pray to good-ness no policeman comes along. If anybody says anything, he’s our sickfriend we’re helping into the house.”
Between the three of them they got Bill into the house without much dif-ficulty, and without attracting much attention, save for an unshaven gen-tleman, who said sympathetically:
“Genneman’s ’ad a couple, I shee,” and nodded his head sapiently.
“Into the little back room downstairs,” said Jimmy. “There’s a sofathere.”
They got him safely on to the sofa and Bundle knelt down beside himand took his limp wrist in her hand.
“His pulse is beating,” she said. “What is the matter with him?”
“He was all right when I left him just now,” said Jimmy. “I wonder ifsomeone’s managed to inject some stuff into him. It would be easily done—just a prick. The man might have been asking him the time. There’s onlyone thing for it. I must get him a doctor at once. You stay here and lookafter him.”
He hurried to the door, then paused.
“Look here—don’t be scared, either of you. But I’d better leave you myrevolver. I mean—just in case. I’ll be back just as soon as I possibly can.”
He laid the revolver down on the little table by the sofa, then hurriedoff. They heard the front door bang behind him.
The house seemed very still now. The two girls stayed motionless by Bill.
Bundle still kept her finger on his pulse. It seemed to be beating very fastand irregularly.
“I wish we could do something,” she whispered to Loraine. “This is aw-ful.”
Loraine nodded.
“I know. It seems ages since Jimmy went and yet it’s only a minute and ahalf.”
“I keep hearing things,” said Bundle. “Footsteps and boards creaking up-stairs—and yet I know it’s only imagination.”
“I wonder why Jimmy left us the revolver,” said Loraine. “There can’treally be danger.”
“If they could get Bill—” said Bundle and stopped.
Loraine shivered.
“I know—but we’re in the house. Nobody can get in without our hearingthem. And anyway we’ve got the revolver.”
Bundle turned her attention back again to Bill.
“I wish I knew what to do. Hot coffee. You give them that sometimes.”
“I’ve got some smelling salts in my bag,” said Loraine. “And somebrandy. Where is it? Oh, I must have left it in the room upstairs.”
“I’ll get it,” said Bundle. “They might do some good.”
She sped quickly up the stairs, across the gaming room and through theopen door into the meeting place. Loraine’s bag was lying on the table.
As Bundle stretched out her hand to take it, she heard a noise from be-hind her. Hidden behind the door a man stood ready with a sandbag in hishand. Before Bundle could turn her head, he had struck.
With a faint moan, Bundle slipped down, an unconscious heap upon thefloor.
第三十章 紧急召集
第三十章 紧急召集
洛兰正在逗弄一只很可爱的小狗。这时，离开了二十分钟的邦德尔回来了，她上气不接下气，脸上一副无法名状的表情，令洛兰微微地吃了一惊。
邦德尔一屁股坐进花园里的一把椅子，还在喘气。
“怎么啦？”洛兰好奇地问道。
“都是乔治……乔治•洛马克斯。”
“他怎么啦？”
“向我求婚，真是太可怕了。他结结巴巴、语无伦次，但还是坚持说完了……肯定是从哪本书上学来的。我根本没办法打断他。噢，我多痛恨那些胡说八道的男人啊！更倒霉的是，我不知道该怎么回答才好。”
“你一定知道你想做什么吧。”
“我当然不会嫁给一个像乔治那样癫狂的老白痴。但我不知道礼仪书上对这种情况是怎么解释的，我只能干脆地说：‘不，我不愿意。’我的回答应该像他对我说的话那样有幽默感、让人发笑才对，但我当时实在是太慌张了，最后只好从窗子里逃出来，还把窗子栓上了。”
“是吗，邦德尔？那可不像是你的风格。”
“唉，我做梦也想不到会发生这种事。乔治……我一直以为他很讨厌我……而且他的确讨厌我。假装对男人热衷的话题也有兴趣，真是要命啊。你要是听了就知道了，乔治满口胡说什么我这少女的头脑，还有他多么乐于塑造我的头脑。唉，我的头脑！如果乔治知道一点点我的心思，他准会吓得昏倒在地！”
洛兰忍不住哈哈大笑。
“唉，我知道这是我的错。我是自找的。我爸爸在杜鹃花那儿躲躲闪闪呢。嗨，爸爸。”
凯特勒姆勋爵面有愧色地走过来。
“洛马克斯走了？”他强作亲切地说道。
“瞧您干的好事，”邦德尔说道，“乔治跟我说他得到了您的赞同和鼓励。”
“唉，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“那你指望我怎么说呢？其实，我根本没那么说，类似的话也没说过。”
“我才不会相信您会这么说呢，”邦德尔说道，“一定是乔治把您逼得没有退路了，只好无可奈何地点头同意吧。”
“正是如此。他怎么样？很糟吗？”
“我还没来得及看他的反应，”邦德尔答道，“恐怕我做得太粗鲁了。”
“噢，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“或许这是最好的办法。谢天谢地，洛马克斯以后再也不会像以前那样老是来烦我了。正所谓一切都会好起来的。你有没有看到我的小头铁球杆？”
“大概打一两杆可以让我定下神来，”邦德尔说道，“我跟你比一局，赌六便士，洛兰。”
一个小时就这样平静地过去了。他们三人愉快地回了屋，只见大厅的桌子上放着一张字条。
“是洛马克斯先生留给您的，老爷，”特雷德韦尔解释道，“他很失望您出去了。”
凯特勒姆勋爵打开字条，旋即痛苦地大叫一声，转身面向他的女儿。这时，特雷德韦尔已经退了下去。
“是吗，邦德尔，你大概把自己的意思说得够清楚了吧？”
“您这话是什么意思？”
“哼，你来看看吧。”
邦德尔接过字条，念道：
我亲爱的凯特勒姆——很遗憾未能跟你谈一谈。我想我已经说得很清楚了，在见过艾琳之后还要再来见你的。她这可爱的孩子，显然没有察觉我对她的那份感情。恐怕她是吓了一大跳。我无意催她作出决定，她所表现出的那种少女的慌乱非常动人，让我对她更加有了好感，我很欣赏她那淑女般的矜持。我必须给她一些时间来适应我的想法。她的慌乱表明她对我并非完全无动于衷，我对最后的成功毫不怀疑。
相信我，亲爱的凯特勒姆。
你忠诚的朋友
乔治•洛马克斯
“唉，”邦德尔说道，“唉，我真该死！”
她说不下去了。
“这家伙准是疯了，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“谁能写出这种话来，邦德尔，除非他脑子坏了。可怜的家伙，可怜的家伙。不过他又是那么执著！难怪进了内阁。要是你真的嫁给他，这家伙可就更得意了，邦德尔。”
这时，电话铃声响起，邦德尔走过去接。才一转眼的工夫，她就把乔治以及求婚的事都抛在脑后了。她急切地朝洛兰招了招手，而凯特勒姆勋爵也回到自己的书房去了。
“是吉米，”邦德尔说道，“他因为某件事情非常兴奋。”
“谢天谢地，总算找到你了，”电话里传来吉米的声音，“现在是刻不容缓。洛兰也在吗？”
“是的，她在。”
“好的，听我说，我没时间解释了……电话里也说不清。比尔来我这儿，跟我说了一件最匪夷所思的事。如果他说的是真的……哦，如果真有其事的话，那么这将是本世纪最大的独家新闻。好了，听我说，你们必须照我说的话去做。马上到城里来，你们俩都来。找个地方把车停好，然后直接去七面钟俱乐部。到了那儿之后，你能不能把那个看门的家伙支走？”
“阿尔弗雷德？没问题。交给我好了。”
“好。把他支走之后，留神等我和比尔。不要站在窗口，以免别人发现。如果看到我们的车一到，就放我们进去。明白了吗？”
“明白了。”
“很好。噢，邦德尔，不要让别人知道你们进城。找个借口，就说你要送洛兰回家。你看这样行不行？”
“好极了。喂，吉米，我都兴奋得发抖了。”
“而且，动身之前，你不妨先立好遗嘱。”
“那更好，你越这么说我越兴奋。不过我很想知道究竟是怎么一回事。”
“一见面你就会知道的，现在就说这么多。我们要给七点钟一个出其不意！”
邦德尔挂上听筒，把电话里的谈话向洛兰作了简单介绍。洛兰赶忙冲上楼去，匆匆收拾行李，邦德尔则探头进了她父亲的房间。
“我要送洛兰回家去了，爸爸。”
“哦？我不知道她今天要走。”
“他们要她回去，”邦德尔含糊地说道，“刚来过电话。再见了。”
“喂，等一等，邦德尔。你什么时候回来？”
“没准。说回来就回来了。”
随口说了这句话之后，邦德尔便冲上楼去，戴上帽子，套上皮大衣，做好了出发的准备。她事先已经吩咐仆人把西斯巴诺开过来等着了。
除了邦德尔惯常的飞车表演惹来的一些麻烦事之外，前往伦敦的旅途一切顺利。她们把车停在一个修车厂，然后直奔七面钟俱乐部。
阿尔弗雷德给她们开了门。邦德尔毫不客气地走了进去，洛兰则跟在她身后。
“把门关上，阿尔弗雷德，”邦德尔说道，“我是特地来帮你的，警方在找你。”
“啊，小姐！”
阿尔弗雷德的脸色一下子变得惨白。
“我赶过来告诉你，是因为那天晚上你帮过我，”邦德尔急匆匆地接着说道，“警方拿到了拘捕莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生的拘捕令，你最好赶快收拾收拾离开这里。如果他们没有在这里找到你，你就不会有麻烦了。这儿有十英镑，给你作路费吧。”
三分钟之后，语无伦次、吓得半死的阿尔弗雷德就离开了汉斯坦街十四号。他的脑子里只有一个念头——永远不再回来。
“好了，这件事办好了。”邦德尔满意地说道。
“有必要这么……呃……这么极端吗？”洛兰提出了异议。
“这么做更保险，”邦德尔说道，“我不知道吉米和比尔打算干什么，但我可不想阿尔弗雷德闯回来坏事。喂，他们来了，果然没浪费多少时间。也许是在角落里等着，看到阿尔弗雷德走掉吧。去给他们开门，洛兰。”
洛兰开了门。吉米•塞西杰从驾驶座上下来。
“你在这儿等一下，比尔，”他说道，“要是发现有人在监视，你就按喇叭。”
他跑上台阶，随手把门带上。他脸色发红，一副兴高采烈的样子。
“嗨，邦德尔，你来啦。现在，我们开始行动吧。你上次进的那个屋子的钥匙在哪里？”
“是楼下房间钥匙中的一把。我们最好把那串钥匙都带上。”
“说得对，赶快，时间很紧。”
钥匙很快就找到了，打开那道衬有粗呢布的门，他们三人一起走了进去。里面还是跟邦德尔上次看见的一模一样，桌子旁摆放着七把椅子。吉米默不作声地打量了一会儿，然后，他的目光落到了那两个壁橱上面。
“你上次躲在哪个壁橱里，邦德尔？”
“这个。”
吉米走过去猛地把橱门打开，里面的架子上还是原先那些五花八门的玻璃器皿。
“我们得把这些东西都弄走，”他咕哝道，“洛兰，快跑下去找比尔上来，他不用在外面把风了。”
洛兰跑出去了。
“你要干什么？”邦德尔不耐烦地问道。
吉米双膝跪在地上，试着从另一个壁橱门上的裂缝向外窥探。
“等比尔上来你就全知道了。这是他的差事……呃……洛兰怎么这么快就上楼了，好像身后有疯牛在追一样？”
洛兰确实是以最快的速度飞奔上楼。她冲到他们面前，面如死灰，神情慌张。
“比尔……比尔……噢，邦德尔……比尔！”
“比尔怎么啦？”
吉米抓住了她的肩膀。
“看在老天的分儿上，洛兰，出什么事了？”
洛兰仍然喘不过气来。
“比尔……我想他死了……他还在车里……可是一动不动，也不说话。我敢肯定他死了。”
吉米低声骂了一句，跳起来飞快下楼。邦德尔紧跟其后，她的心怦怦直跳，恐惧的感觉袭遍全身。
比尔……死了？哦，不！哦，不！不会的。老天保佑……不要这样。
她和吉米来到车前，洛兰则跟在他们身后。
吉米往车篷下一瞅，比尔还是像他离开时那样坐着，靠在椅背上。但他的双眼紧闭着，吉米拉了拉他的胳膊，没有任何反应。
“真搞不懂，”吉米低声说道，“不过他没死。打起精神来，邦德尔。听我说，我们得把他弄进屋里。但愿不要有警察过来。要是有人看见了，就说是我们的朋友，他生病了，我们要把他扶进去。”
他们三人没费什么劲儿就把比尔弄进了屋，也没有引起多少注意。只有一个不修边幅的路人看见并表示了同情，还自以为聪明地点了点头。
“到楼下后面的小房间去，”吉米说道，“那里有一张沙发。”
他们顺利地把他安顿在沙发上，邦德尔跪在他的身旁，握住了他软弱无力的手腕。
“还有脉搏，”她说道，“他是怎么啦？”
“刚才我离开时他还好端端的，”吉米说道，“会不会是有人给他注射过什么东西。这很容易……只要扎一下就行。下手的人可能是假装问时间。我必须马上去找个医生来。你们留在这里照顾好他。”
他匆匆走到门口，又停住了脚。
“听着……别害怕。不过最好还是把枪留给你们。我是说……以防万一。我会尽快回来的。”
他把手枪放在沙发旁的小桌子上，然后匆匆离开了。她们听见他随手把前门关上了。
此时，屋子里显得非常寂静。两个女孩一动也不动地守在比尔身旁。邦德尔仍然握着他的手腕，脉搏好像越来越快，而且很不规则。
“但愿我们能做点什么，”她轻声地对洛兰说道，“太可怕了。”
洛兰点了点头。
“我知道。吉米走了好像有好几年了，但其实才不过一分半钟。”
“我老是听见有动静，”邦德尔说道，“楼上有脚步声，还有地板发出的咯吱声……但愿都是幻觉。”
“我不明白吉米为什么要把枪留给我们，”洛兰说道，“不可能有什么危险。”
“如果他们把比尔……”邦德尔说了半截就打住了话头。
洛兰哆嗦了一下。
“我明白……不过我们是在屋子里。谁走进来我们都听得见；再说了，我们还有这把枪呢。”
邦德尔又把注意力转回到比尔身上。
“但愿我知道该怎么做。热咖啡，有时候热咖啡管用。”
“我包里有些溴盐，”洛兰说道，“还有些白兰地。咦，我的包呢？噢，一定是落在楼上了。”
“我去拿，”邦德尔说道，“可能有用。”
她迅速地上了楼，穿过赌博室那扇开着的门，走进了那间隐秘的会议室。洛兰的包就在桌上。
就在邦德尔伸手去拿时，她听见身后传来声响。门背后站着一个人，手里拿着个沙袋，早就在那儿等着了。还没等邦德尔转过头来，他就出手了。
邦德尔轻轻地哼了一声，身子滑倒在地，不省人事。
Thirty-one HE SEVEN DIALS
Thirty-one HE SEVEN DIALS
Very slowly Bundle returned to consciousness. She was aware of a dark,spinning blackness, the centre of which was a violent, throbbing ache.
Punctuating this were sounds. A voice that she knew very well saying thesame thing over and over again.
The blackness span less violently. The ache was now definitely locatedas being in Bundle’s own head. And she was sufficiently herself to take aninterest in what the voice was saying.
“Darling, darling Bundle. Oh, darling Bundle. She’s dead; I know she’sdead. Oh, my darling. Bundle, darling, darling Bundle. I do love you so.
Bundle—darling—darling—”
Bundle lay quite still with her eyes shut. But she was now fully con-scious. Bill’s arms held her closely.
“Bundle darling—Oh, dearest, darling Bundle. Oh, my dear love. Oh,Bundle—Bundle. What shall I do? Oh, darling one—my Bundle—my owndearest, sweetest Bundle. Oh, God, what shall I do? I’ve killed her. I’vekilled her.”
Reluctantly—very reluctantly—Bundle spoke.
“No, you haven’t, you silly idiot,” she said.
Bill gave a gasp of utter amazement.
“Bundle—you’re alive.”
“Of course I’m alive.”
“How long have you been—I mean when did you come to?”
“About five minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you open your eyes—or say something?”
“Didn’t want to. I was enjoying myself.”
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Yes. Listening to all the things you were saying. You’ll never say themso well again. You’ll be too beastly self-conscious.”
Bill had turned a dark brick-red.
“Bundle—you really didn’t mind? You know, I do love you so. I have forages. But I never have dared to tell you so.”
“You silly juggins,” said Bundle. “Why?”
“I thought you’d only laugh at me. I mean—you’ve got brains and allthat—you’ll marry some bigwig.”
“Like George Lomax?” suggested Bundle.
“I don’t mean a fatuous ass like Codders. But some really fine chapwho’ll be worthy of you — though I don’t think anyone could be that,”
ended Bill.
“You’re rather a dear, Bill.”
“But, Bundle, seriously, could you ever? I mean, could you ever bringyourself to?”
“Could I ever bring myself to do what?”
“Marry me. I know I’m awfully thickheaded—but I do love you, Bundle.
I’d be your dog or your slave or your anything.”
“You’re very like a dog,” said Bundle. “I like dogs. They’re so friendlyand faithful and warmhearted. I think that perhaps I could just bring my-self to marry you, Bill—with a great effort, you know.”
Bill’s response to this was to relinquish his grasp of her and recoil viol-ently. He looked at her with amazement in his eyes.
“Bundle—you don’t mean it?”
“There’s nothing for it,” said Bundle. “I see I shall have to relapse intounconsciousness again.”
“Bundle—darling—” Bill caught her to him. He was trembling violently.
“Bundle—do you really mean it—do you?—you don’t know how much Ilove you.”
“Oh, Bill,” said Bundle.
There is no need to describe in detail the conversation of the next tenminutes. It consisted mostly of repetitions.
“And do you really love me?” said Bill, incredulously, for the twentiethtime as he at last released her.
“Yes—yes—yes. Now do let’s be sensible. I’ve got a racking head still,and I’ve been nearly squeezed to death by you. I want to get the hang ofthings. Where are we and what’s happened?”
For the first time, Bundle began to take stock of her surroundings. Theywere in the secret room, she noted, and the baize door was closed and pre-sumably locked. They were prisoners, then!
Bundle’s eyes came back to Bill. Quite oblivious of her question he waswatching her with adoring eyes.
“Bill, darling,” said Bundle, “pull yourself together. We’ve got to get outof here.”
“Eh?” said Bill. “What? Oh, yes. That’ll be all right. No difficulty aboutthat.”
“It’s being in love makes you feel like that,” said Bundle. “I feel ratherthe same myself. As though everything’s easy and possible.”
“So it is,” said Bill. “Now that I know you care for me—”
“Stop it,” said Bundle. “Once we begin again any serious conversationwill be hopeless. Unless you pull yourself together and become sensible, Ishall very likely change my mind.”
“I shan’t let you,” said Bill. “You don’t think that once having got you I’dbe such a fool as to let you go, do you?”
“You would not coerce me against my will, I hope,” said Bundle grandi-loquently.
“Wouldn’t I?” said Bill. “You just watch me do it, that’s all.”
“You really are rather a darling, Bill. I was afraid you might be toomeek, but I see there’s going to be no danger of that. In another half houryou’d be ordering me about. Oh, dear, we’re getting silly again. Now, lookhere, Bill. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“I tell you that’ll be quite all right. I shall—”
He broke off, obedient to a pressure from Bundle’s hand. She was lean-ing forward, listening intently. Yes, she had not been mistaken. A step wascrossing the outer room. The key was thrust into the lock and turned.
Bundle held her breath. Was it Jimmy coming to rescue them—or was itsomeone else?
The door opened and the black-bearded Mr. Mosgorovsky stood on thethreshold.
Immediately Bill took a step forward, standing in front of Bundle.
“Look here,” he said, “I want a word with you privately.”
The Russian did not reply for a minute or two. He stood stroking hislong, silky black beard and smiling quietly to himself.
“So,” he said at last, “it is like that. Very well. The lady will be pleased tocome with me.”
“It’s all right, Bundle,” said Bill. “Leave it to me. You go with this chap.
Nobody’s going to hurt you. I know what I’m doing.”
Bundle rose obediently. That note of authority in Bill’s voice was new toher. He seemed absolutely sure of himself and confident of being able todeal with the situation. Bundle wondered vaguely what it was that Bill had—or thought he had—up his sleeve.
She passed out of the room in front of the Russian. He followed her, clos-ing the door behind him and locking it.
“This way, please,” he said.
He indicated the staircase and she mounted obediently to the floorabove. Here she was directed to pass into a small frowsy room, which shetook to be Alfred’s bedroom.
Mosgorovsky said: “You will wait here quietly, please. There must be nonoise.”
Then he went out, closing the door behind him and locking her in.
Bundle sat down on a chair. Her head was aching badly still and she feltincapable of sustained thought. Bill seemed to have the sitaution well inhand. Sooner or later, she supposed, someone would come and let her out.
The minutes passed. Bundle’s watch had stopped, but she judged thatover an hour had passed since the Russian had brought her here. Whatwas happening? What, indeed, had happened?
At last she heard footsteps on the stairs. It was Mosgorovsky once more.
He spoke very formally to her.
“Lady Eileen Brent, you are wanted at an emergency meeting of theSeven Dials Society. Please follow me.”
He led the way down the stairs and Bundle followed him. He opened thedoor of the secret chamber and Bundle passed in, catching her breath insurprise as she did so.
She was seeing for the second time what she had only had a glimpse ofthe first time through her peephole. The masked figures were sittinground the table. As she stood there, taken aback by the suddenness of it,Mosgorovsky slipped into his place, adjusting his clock mask as he did so.
But this time the chair at the head of the table was occupied. No 7 was inhis place.
Bundle’s heart beat violently. She was standing at the foot of the tabledirectly facing him and she stared and stared at the mocking piece ofhanging stuff, with the clock dial on it, that hid his features.
He sat quite immovable and Bundle got an odd sensation of power radi-ating from him. His inactivity was not the inactivity of weakness—and shewished violently, almost hysterically, that he would speak—that he wouldmake some sign, some gesture—not just sit there like a gigantic spider inthe middle of its web waiting remorselessly for its prey.
She shivered and as she did so Mosgorovsky rose. His voice, smooth,silky, persuasive, seemed curiously far away.
“Lady Eileen, you have been present unasked at the secret councils ofthis society. It is therefore necessary that you should identify yourself withour aims and ambitions. The place 2 o’clock, you may notice, is vacant. Itis that place that is offered to you.”
Bundle gasped. The thing was like a fantastic nightmare. Was it possiblethat she, Bundle Brent, was being asked to join a murderous secret soci-ety? Had the same proposition been made to Bill, and had he refused in-dignantly?
“I can’t do that,” she said bluntly.
“Do not answer precipitately.”
She fancied that Mosgorovsky, beneath his clock mask, was smiling sig-nificantly into his beard.
“You do not as yet know, Lady Eileen, what it is you are refusing.”
“I can make a pretty good guess,” said Bundle.
“Can you?”
It was the voice of 7 o’clock. It awoke some vague chord of memory inBundle’s brain. Surely she knew that voice?
Very slowly No 7 raised a hand to his head and fumbled with the fasten-ing of the mask.
Bundle held her breath. At last—she was going to know.
The mask fell.
Bundle found herself looking into the expressionless, wooden face of Super-intendent Battle.
第三十一章 七面钟
第三十一章 七面钟
过了很久，邦德尔才慢慢苏醒过来。她眼前一片漆黑，头晕目眩，还伴有剧烈的阵痛。她听见一些说话声，一个她非常熟悉的声音一遍又一遍地说着那么几句话。
接下来，眩晕的感觉不再那么强烈了，很明显，阵痛的部位在自己的头上。此刻，她已经恢复过来了，慢慢地听清楚了耳边不断重复的说话声。
“亲爱的，亲爱的邦德尔。噢，亲爱的邦德尔。她死了，我知道她死了。噢，我亲爱的。邦德尔，亲爱的，亲爱的邦德尔。我真的很爱你。邦德尔……亲爱的……亲爱的……”邦德尔双眼紧闭，静静地躺着。此刻她已经完全恢复了知觉。比尔的双臂正紧紧地搂住她。
“邦德尔，亲爱的……噢，我最亲爱的，亲爱的邦德尔。噢，我亲爱的人儿。噢，邦德尔……邦德尔。我该怎么办啊？噢，亲爱的人儿……我的邦德尔……我最最亲爱的邦德尔。噢，天哪，我该怎么办啊？是我把你害了，是我把你害了。”
邦德尔不情愿地——非常不情愿地开口说话了。
“不，你没害我，你这个白痴。”她说道。
比尔大吃一惊，松了一口气。
“邦德尔……你还活着？”
“当然活着。”
“你醒了多久了……我是说你是什么时候苏醒过来的？”
“大约有五分钟了。”
“你为什么不睁开眼睛……或是开口说话？”
“不想嘛。我正乐着呢。”
“乐着？”
“对啊。听得津津有味呢。你再也说不出那么动听的话了。你太腼腆了，会不好意思的。”
比尔一脸羞红。
“邦德尔……你真的不在意？听我说，我真的非常爱你，都好几年了，但我从不敢告诉你。”
“你这大傻瓜，”邦德尔说，“为什么不？”
“我以为你会嘲笑我。我是说……你这么聪明，这么优秀……你肯定会嫁给一个大人物。”
“像乔治•洛马克斯这样的？”邦德尔试探着问道。
“我不是说像老鳕鱼那样的蠢驴，而是真正配得上你的好小伙……可我不认为有谁配得上你。”比尔说道。
“你真是太可爱了，比尔。”
“可是，邦德尔，说正经的，你真的能……我是说，真的能那样吗？”
“能哪样？”
“嫁给我。我知道我很蠢……但我真的爱你，邦德尔。我愿意做你的狗，做你的奴隶……做什么都行。”
“你真的很像一条狗，”邦德尔说道，“我喜欢狗。它们那么友善、那么忠诚、那么热情。我想也许我能嫁给你，比尔……下定决心。”
听邦德尔这么一说，比尔惊得一松手，身子直往后缩。他一脸惊诧。
“邦德尔……你没说错吧？”
“真是没办法，”邦德尔说道，“我还是昏过去得了。”
“邦德尔……亲爱的……”比尔把她搂在怀里。他的身子激烈地颤抖着，“邦德尔……你是说真的……是吗？……你不知道我有多爱你。”
“噢，比尔。”邦德尔说道。
接下来十分钟的对话就不用细细描述了，因为大部分是上面这些话的重复。
“你真的爱我吗？”比尔松开了她，不敢相信地说道，他已经是第二十次说这句话了。
“真的……真的……真的。现在我们得理智一点，我的头还很痛，你还搂得这么紧，我差点被你搂死了。我要冷静想一想。我们是在什么地方，出了什么事了？”
邦德尔这才第一次考虑起周围的情况来。原来他们是在一间密室里，她发现这间房门也衬有粗呢布，还可能上了锁。看来，他们是被人囚禁了！
邦德尔转头看着比尔。他只知道爱慕地望着她，根本没注意她提出的问题。
“比尔，亲爱的，”邦德尔说道，“你冷静一下，我们得想办法出去。”
“嗯？”比尔说道，“什么？噢，是的。没问题，很容易。”
“是不是爱情让你有了错觉？”邦德尔说道，“我自己也有这种感觉，好像一切都很简单，都不成问题。”
“的确如此，”比尔说道，“既然我知道了你喜欢我……”
“别说了，”邦德尔说道，“再这样说下去，就没法做正事了。你要是再不冷静下来，再不理智起来，我很可能就要改变主意了。”
“我不会让你改变主意的，”比尔说道，“你不会以为我真的这么蠢，傻乎乎得让你溜走吧？”
“你总不至于强迫我吧？”邦德尔夸张地说道。
“不至于吗？”比尔说道，“你瞧好了，我就这么一句话。”
“你真是太可爱了，比尔。我还担心你太温顺了呢，看来这种担心是多余的。再过半小时，你就会对我指手画脚了。噢，亲爱的，我们又开始说傻话了。听我说，比尔，我们得想办法出去。”
“我跟你说了这没问题。我……”
邦德尔用手按了他一下，他会意地没有说下去。邦德尔身子前倾，侧耳聆听。没错，她听到外面有脚步声传来。钥匙插进锁孔里转动了一下。邦德尔屏住了呼吸——是吉米来救他们了，还是别的什么人？
门打开了，大胡子莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生站在门槛外面。
比尔立即跨步向前，挡在邦德尔身前。
“听着，”他说道，“我想跟你单独谈谈。”
那个俄国人并没有很快回答，他只是站在那儿，捋着他那又长又滑的浓密胡须，默不作声地微笑着。
“这么说来，”他终于开口说道，“是那么回事了。很好。这位小姐请跟我走。”
“没事的，邦德尔，”比尔说道，“都交给我好了。你跟这家伙去。不会有人伤害你的。
我自有打算。”
邦德尔顺从地站了起来。她还是第一次听到比尔以命令式的口气说话。他似乎有绝对的把握，足以应付这一切。邦德尔有些纳闷，不知比尔打的是什么主意。
她走出了密室，那个俄国人跟在她身后，顺手把门带上，又锁上了门。
“请这边走，”他指了指楼梯，邦德尔顺从地上了楼。到了楼上，她被带到一间散发着霉味的小房间，她想这就是阿尔弗雷德的卧室。
莫斯葛洛夫斯基说道：“请在这儿静静地等着吧，不要弄出声音。”
说完他就出去了，随手把门带上，又上了锁。
邦德尔找了一把椅子坐下。她的头仍然痛得厉害，几乎无法思考。比尔似乎胸有成竹，她想，迟早会有人来救她出去。
时间一分一秒地过去。邦德尔的手表停了，但她估计从那个俄国人把她带到这儿，已经过去了一个多小时。出什么事了？究竟出什么事了？
终于，她听见楼梯上传来脚步声，还是莫斯葛洛夫斯基。他郑重其事地说道：
“艾琳•布伦特小姐，有人希望你出席七面钟协会的一次紧急会议。请跟我来。”
他领着邦德尔走下楼梯。接着，他打开密室的门，邦德尔走了进去，她惊讶得几乎无法呼吸。
她又一次目睹以前曾经从那个窥视孔看见的情景。蒙着面具的人围坐在桌旁。她愣愣地站在那儿，呆呆地看着眼前的景象。这时，莫斯葛洛夫斯基坐到了他的位子上，和上次一样，戴好了自己的钟面面具。
不过，这一次桌首上有人。七点钟正坐在他的位子上。
邦德尔的心怦怦直跳。她站在桌子的下首，正好和他面对面。她死死地盯着那张面具，面具上是一个钟面，挡住了这个人的脸。
他一动不动地坐着，邦德尔有了一种奇怪的感觉，这个人的身上似乎散发出一股力量。他一动不动，但并非弱不禁风。她非常希望，近乎歇斯底里地希望他能开口说话，希望他能有所表示，或者做个手势——而不只是静静地坐在那儿，像一只巨大的蜘蛛那样盘坐在蜘蛛网的中央，无情地等待猎物自投罗网。
她打了个哆嗦。这时，莫斯葛洛夫斯基站起身来。他的声音柔和圆润，颇为动听，又似乎远得出奇。
“艾琳小姐，你未获邀请出席本协会的秘密会议，因此有必要让你了解我们的目标和抱负。你可能看到了，两点钟的位子上没人，那个位子是给你的。”
邦德尔喘了口气。不是在做噩梦吧？她，艾琳•布伦特，正被邀请加入一个秘密组织，这怎么可能？比尔是不是也得到了同样的邀请？他是不是愤怒地拒绝了？
“恕不能从命。”她不客气地说道。
“不要轻率回答。”
她想，莫斯葛洛夫斯基肯定正躲在钟面面具下暗自发笑呢。
“艾琳小姐，你还不知道自己要拒绝的是什么。”
“我猜也猜得中。”邦德尔答道。
“是吗？”
是七点钟的声音。这声音让邦德尔隐隐约约记起了什么，在哪儿听见过……七号缓缓地抬起手，笨手笨脚地解开了面具。
邦德尔屏住呼吸，终于——她就要知道一切了。
面具拿了下来。
邦德尔发现自己面对的，是巴特尔警司那张毫无表情、木然的脸。
Thirty-two BUNDLE IS DUMBFOUNDED
Thirty-two BUNDLE IS DUMBFOUNDED

“That’s right,” said Battle, as Mosgorovsky leapt up and came round toBundle. “Get a chair for her. It’s been a bit of a shock, I can see.”
Bundle sank down on the chair. She felt limp and faint with surprise.
Battle went on talking in a quiet, comfortable way wholly characteristic ofhim.
“You didn’t expect to see me, Lady Eileen. No, and no more did some ofthe others sitting round the table. Mr. Mosgorovsky’s been my lieutenantin a manner of speaking. He’s been in the know all along. But most of theothers have taken their orders blindly from him.”
Still Bundle said no word. She was—a most unusual state of affairs forher—simply incapable of speech.
Battle nodded at her comprehendingly, seeming to understand the stateof her feelings.
“You’ll have to get rid of one or two preconceived ideas of yours, I’mafraid, Lady Eileen. About this society, for instance—I know it’s commonenough in books—a secret organization of criminals with a mysterious su-percriminal at the head of it whom no one ever sees. That sort of thingmay exist in real life, but I can only say that I’ve never come across any-thing of the sort, and I’ve had a good deal of experience one way or an-other.
“But there’s a lot of romance in the world, Lady Eileen. People, espe-cially young people, like reading about such things, and they like still bet-ter really doing them. I’m going to introduce you now to a very creditableband of amateurs that has done remarkably fine work for my Department,work that nobody else could have done. If they’ve chosen rather melodra-matic trappings, well, why shouldn’t they? They’ve been willing to facereal danger—danger of the very worst kind—and they’ve done it for thesereasons: love of danger for its own sake—which to my mind is a veryhealthy sign in these Safety First days—and an honest wish to serve theircountry.
“And now, Lady Eileen, I’m going to introduce you. First of all, there’sMr. Mosgorovsky, whom you already know in a manner of speaking. Asyou’re aware, he runs the club and he runs a host of other things too. He’sour most valuable Secret Anti-Bolshevist Agent in England. No 5 is CountAndras of the Hungarian Embassy, a very near and dear friend of the lateGerald Wade. No 4 is Mr. Hayward Phelps, an American journalist, whoseBritish sympathies are very keen and whose aptitude for scenting ‘news’ isremarkable. No 3—”
He stopped, smiling, and Bundle stared dumbfounded into the sheepish,grinning face of Bill Eversleigh.
“No 2,” went on Battle in a graver voice, “can only show an empty place.
It is the place belonging to Mr. Ronald Devereux, a very gallant young gen-tleman who died for his country if any man ever did. No 1—well, No 1 wasMr. Gerald Wade, another very gallant gentleman who died in the sameway. His place was taken—not without some grave misgivings on my part—by a lady—a lady who has proved her fitness to have it and who hasbeen a great help to us.”
The last to do so, No 1, removed her mask, and Bundle looked withoutsurprise into the beautiful, dark face of Countess Radzky.
“I might have known,” said Bundle resentfully, “that you were too com-pletely the beautiful foreign adventuress to be anything of the kindreally.”
“But you don’t know the real joke,” said Bill. “Bundle, this is Babe St.
Maur—you remember my telling you about her and what a ripping act-ress she was—and she’s about proved it.”
“That’s so,” said Miss Maur in pure transatlantic nasal. “But it’s not a ter-rible lot of credit to me, because Poppa and Momma came from that partof Yurrup—so I got the patter fairly easy. Gee, but I nearly gave myselfaway once at the Abbey, talking about gardens.”
She paused and then said abruptly:
“It’s—it’s not been just fun. You see, I was kinder engaged to Ronny, andwhen he handed in his checks—well, I had to do something to track downthe skunk who murdered him. That’s all.”
“I’m completely bewildered,” said Bundle. “Nothing is what it seems.”
“It’s very simple, Lady Eileen,” said Superintendent Battle. “It beganwith some of the young people wanting a bit of excitement. It was Mr.
Wade who first got on to me. He suggested the formation of a band ofwhat you might call amateur workers to do a bit of secret service work. Iwarned him that it might be dangerous—but he wasn’t the kind to weighthat in the balance. I made it plain to him that anyone who came in mustdo so on that understanding. But, bless you, that wasn’t going to stop anyof Mr. Wade’s friends. And so the thing began.”
“But what was the object of it all?” asked Bundle.
“We wanted a certain man—wanted him badly. He wasn’t an ordinarycrook. He worked in Mr. Wade’s world, a kind of Raffles, but much moredangerous than any Raffles ever was or could be. He was out for big stuff,international stuff. Twice already valuable secret inventions had beenstolen, and clearly stolen by someone who had inside knowledge. The pro-fessionals had had a try—and failed. Then the amateurs took on—and suc-ceeded.”
“Succeeded?”
“Yes—but they didn’t come out of it unscathed. The man was dangerous.
Two lives fell victim to him and he got away with it. But the Seven Dialsstuck to it. And as I say they succeeded. Thanks to Mr. Eversleigh, the manwas caught at last red-handed.”
“Who was he?” asked Bundle. “Do I know him?”
“You know him very well, Lady Eileen. His name is Mr. Jimmy Thesiger,and he was arrested this afternoon.”
第三十二章 邦德尔目瞪口呆
第三十二章 邦德尔目瞪口呆
“正是我！”巴特尔说道，话音未落，莫斯葛洛夫斯基已经起身绕到了邦德尔的身边。“给她一把椅子，她着实受惊了，我看得出来。”
邦德尔跌坐在椅子上。她惊讶得四肢无力，浑身发软。巴特尔继续用他特有的平静口吻说道：
“没料到是我吧，艾琳小姐？在座的有些人也料不到。可以说，莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生是我的副手，他知道内情，但其他大多数人都不知道，他们只是从他那儿得到指示。”
邦德尔还是一言不发，她简直说不出话来，这对她来说实在是很少见的情况。
巴特尔表示理解地冲她点了点头，似乎感同身受。
“恐怕你要打消一些成见，艾琳小姐。比如说七面钟俱乐部……我知道这在小说里很常见……一个从不露面的犯罪头子把持着一个秘密犯罪组织。现实生活中可能会存在，但类似的事情我却从来没碰到过，尽管我的阅历很丰富。
“不过，现实中的确有很多传奇，艾琳小姐。人们，尤其是年轻人，喜欢读这类传奇故事，更喜欢实际去经历。现在，我来为你介绍一群令人钦佩的业余爱好者，他们为我的部门作出了值得骄傲的贡献，没有他们，这些成就无法获得。如果说他们煞有介事地选择了夸张的伪装，唉，这又何尝不可呢？他们甘愿面对真正的危险……最最严重的危险……他们之所以愿意，是因为对危险本身的向往……在我看来，在如今讲究安全第一的时代，这是一种非常有益的表现……以及报效祖国的真诚愿望。
“好了，艾琳小姐，我开始为你介绍。首先，这位是莫斯葛洛夫斯基先生，可以说你已经认识他了。正如你知道的，他管理这家俱乐部，还负责其他一大堆事情。他是我们英国最重要的一名特工。五点钟是匈牙利大使馆的安德拉斯伯爵，已故的格里•韦德先生最亲密的朋友。四点钟是海沃德•费尔普斯先生，美国新闻记者，他对英国富有同情心，新闻嗅觉极其敏感。三点钟……”
他停了下来，微微一笑。邦德尔目瞪口呆地凝视着比尔•埃弗斯利那张羞怯的笑脸。
“两点钟，”巴特尔的声音一下子沉重起来，“只能空着了。它本来属于罗尼•德弗卢先生，一个非常勇敢的年轻人，他为国捐躯了。一点钟……嗯，一点钟是格里•韦德先生，也是一位非常勇敢的年轻人，他也为国捐躯了。他的位子已经由一位女士……原本我有些担心……但事实证明她完全能够胜任，而且对我们帮助很大……顶上了。”
一点钟取下面具，邦德尔看到拉兹基伯爵夫人那漂亮的脸庞，一点也不感到惊讶。
“我早应该想到的，”邦德尔忿忿地说道，“你这个漂亮的外国女冒险家也太完美了，压根儿就不会是真的。”
“但你不知道真正的妙处在哪儿，”比尔说道，“邦德尔，她就是芭比•圣•摩尔……还记得吗，我跟你说过她的事，她是一个顶尖的演员……绝非虚言。”
“不错，”摩尔小姐操着纯正的美国式鼻音说道，“不过，这对我来说算不上骄傲，因为爸爸妈妈是匈牙利人，所以我跟别人聊起来还像那么回事。哎呀，不过上次我在双足飞龙教堂谈到花园时差点露了马脚。”
她停顿了一下，突然说道：
“这可不是……不是闹着玩的。要知道，我跟罗尼订了婚，可是他死了……唉，我必须找到杀害他的凶手，就是这样。”
“我真的被搞糊涂了，”邦德尔说道，“完全不像那么回事。”
“其实很简单，艾琳小姐，”巴特尔警司开口说道，“这还得从几个寻求刺激的年轻人说起。一开始来找我的是韦德先生，他建议成立一个组织，你可以把他们称为业余特工，做一些秘密的情报工作。我警告过他这里面会有危险……可他不是那种顾虑危险的人。我明确跟他说，任何加入组织的人都必须明白这一点。不过，好家伙，韦德先生的那些朋友还是义无返顾。于是，就这么开始了。”
“可是，目的是什么呢？”邦德尔问道。
“我们想抓捕一个人……早点把他抓捕归案。此人不是普普通通的窃贼，是韦德先生社交圈里的人，算是一个业余窃贼，但比其他业余窃贼要危险得多。他一心想大搞一票，而且是跨国盗窃。以前发生了两起重大的秘密发明盗窃案，显然是熟悉内情的人干的。我们出动了很多职业侦探……但都失败了。然后业余特工登场……结果大获成功。”
“成功了？”
“没错……但我们的人也有损失。窃贼心狠手辣，牺牲了两条人命，他却仍然逍遥法外。但是七面钟锲而不舍，正如我所说的，最终他们成功了。多亏了埃弗斯利先生，窃贼终于当场落网。”
“他是谁？”邦德尔问道，“我认识吗？”
“你跟他很熟，艾琳小姐。他就是吉米•塞西杰先生，今天下午已经被抓捕归案了。”
Thirty-three BATTLE EXPLAINS
Thirty-three BATTLE EXPLAINS

Superintendent Battle settled down to explain. He spoke comfortably andcosily.
“I didn’t suspect him myself for a long time. The first hint of it I had waswhen I heard what Mr. Devereux’s last words had been. Naturally, youtook them to mean that Mr. Devereux was trying to send word to Mr.
Thesiger that the Seven Dials had killed him. That’s what the wordsseemed to mean on their face value. But of course I knew that thatcouldn’t be so. It was the Seven Dials that Mr. Devereux wanted told—andwhat he wanted them told was something about Mr. Jimmy Thesiger.
“The thing seemed incredible, because Mr. Devereux and Mr. Thesigerwere close friends. But I remembered something else—that these theftsmust have been committed by someone who was absolutely in the know.
Someone, who, if not in the Foreign Office himself, was in the way of hear-ing all its chitchat. And I found it very hard to find out where Mr. Thesigergot his money. The income his father left him was a small one, yet he wasable to live at a most expensive rate. Where did the money come from?
“I knew that Mr. Wade had been very excited by something that he hadfound out. He was quite sure that he was on the right track. He didn’t con-fide in anyone about what he thought that track was, but he did say some-thing to Mr. Devereux about being on the point of making sure. That wasjust before they both went down to Chimneys for that weekend. As youknow, Mr. Wade died there—apparently from an overdose of a sleepingdraught. It seemed straightforward enough, but Mr. Devereux did not ac-cept that explanation for a minute. He was convinced that Mr. Wade hadbeen very cleverly put out of the way and that someone in the house mustactually be the criminal we were all after. He came, I think, very near con-fiding in Mr. Thesiger, for he certainly had no suspicions of him at thatmoment. But something held him back.
“Then he did a rather curious thing. He arranged seven clocks upon themantelpiece, throwing away the eighth. It was meant as a symbol that theSeven Dials would revenge the death of one of their members—and hewatched eagerly to see if anyone betrayed themselves or showed signs ofperturbation.”
“And it was Jimmy Thesiger who poisoned Gerry Wade?”
“Yes, he slipped the stuff into a whisky and soda which Mr. Wade haddownstairs before retiring to bed. That’s why he was already feelingsleepy when he wrote that letter to Miss Wade.”
“Then the footman, Bauer, hadn’t anything to do with it?” asked Bundle.
“Bauer was one of our people, Lady Eileen. It was thought likely that ourcrook would go for Herr Eberhard’s invention and Bauer was got into thehouse to watch events on our behalf. But he wasn’t able to do much. As Isay, Mr. Thesiger administered the fatal dose easily enough. Later, wheneveryone was asleep, a bottle, glass and empty chloral bottle were placedby Mr. Wade’s bedside by Mr. Thesiger. Mr. Wade was unconscious then,and his fingers were probably pressed round the glass and the bottle sothat they should be found there if any questions should arise. I don’t knowwhat effect the seven clocks on the mantelpiece made on Mr. Thesiger. Hecertainly didn’t let on anything to Mr. Devereux. All the same, I think hehad a bad five minutes now and again thinking of them. And I think hekept a pretty wary eye on Mr. Devereux after that.
“We don’t know exactly what happened next. No one saw much of Mr.
Devereux after Mr. Wade’s death. But it is clear that he worked along thesame lines that he knew Mr. Wade had been working on and reached thesame result—namely, that Mr. Thesiger was the man. I fancy, too, that hewas betrayed in the same way.”
“You mean?”
“Through Miss Loraine Wade. Mr. Wade was devoted to her—I believehe hoped to marry her—she wasn’t really his sister, of course—and thereis no doubt that he told her more than he should have done. But Miss Lo-raine Wade was devoted body and soul to Mr. Thesiger. She would do any-thing he told her. She passed on the information to him. In the same way,later, Mr. Devereux was attracted to her, and probably warned her againstMr. Thesiger. So Mr. Devereux in turn was silenced—and died trying tosend word to the Seven Dials that his murderer was Mr. Thesiger.”
“How ghastly,” cried Bundle. “If I had only known.”
“Well, it didn’t seem likely. In fact, I could hardly credit it myself. Butthen we came to the affair at the Abbey. You will remember how awk-ward it was—specially awkward for Mr. Eversleigh here. You and Mr.
Thesiger were hand in glove. Mr. Eversleigh had already been embar-rassed by your insisting on being brought to this place, and when hefound that you had actually overheard what went on at a meeting, he wasdumbfounded.”
The Superintendent paused and a twinkle came into his eye.
“So was I, Lady Eileen. I never dreamed of such a thing being possible.
You put one over on me there all right.
“Well, Mr. Eversleigh was in a dilemma. He couldn’t let you into thesecret of the Seven Dials without letting Mr. Thesiger in also—and thatwould never do. It all suited Mr. Thesiger very well, of course, for it gavehim a bona fide reason for getting himself asked to the Abbey, whichmade things easier for him.
“I may say that the Seven Dials had already sent a warning letter to Mr.
Lomax. That was to ensure his applying to me for assistance, so that Ishould be able to be on the spot in a perfectly natural manner. I made nosecret of my presence, as you know.”
And again the Superintendent’s eye twinkled.
“Well, ostensibly, Mr. Eversleigh and Mr. Thesiger were to divide thenight into two watches. Really, Mr. Eversleigh and Miss St. Maur did so.
She was on guard at the library window when she heard Mr. Thesigercoming and had to dart behind the screen.
“And now comes the cleverness of Mr. Thesiger. Up to a point he told mea perfectly true story, and I must admit that with the fight and everything,I was distinctly shaken—and began to wonder whether he had had any-thing to do with the theft at all, or whether we were completely on thewrong track. There were one or two suspicious circumstances that pointedin an entirely different direction, and I can tell you I didn’t know what tomake of things, when something turned up to clinch matters.
“I found the burnt glove in the fireplace with the teeth marks on it—andthen—well—I knew that I’d been right after all. But, upon my word, hewas a clever one.”
“What actually happened?” said Bundle. “Who was the other man?”
“There wasn’t any other man. Listen, and I’ll show you how in the end Ireconstructed the whole story. To begin with, Mr. Thesiger and Miss Wadewere in this together. And they have a rendezvous for an exact time. MissWade comes over in her car, climbs through the fence and comes up to thehouse. She’s got a perfectly good story if anyone stops her—the one shetold eventually. But she arrived unmolested on the terrace just after theclock had struck two.
“Now, I may say to begin with that she was seen coming in. My men sawher, but they had orders to stop nobody coming in — only going out. Iwanted, you see, to find out as much as possible. Miss Wade arrives on theterrace, and at that minute a parcel falls at her feet and she picks it up. Aman comes down the ivy and she starts to run. What happens next? Thestruggle—and presently the revolver shots. What will everyone do? Rushto the scene of the fight. And Miss Loraine Wade could have left thegrounds and driven off with the formula safely in her possession.
“But things don’t happen quite like that. Miss Wade runs straight intomy arms. And at that moment the game changes. It’s no longer attack butdefence. Miss Wade tells her story. It is perfectly true and perfectly sens-ible.
“And now we come to Mr. Thesiger. One thing struck me at once. Thebullet wound alone couldn’t have caused him to faint. Either he had fallenand hit his head—or—well he hadn’t fainted at all. Later we had Miss St.
Maur’s story. It agreed perfectly with Mr. Thesiger’s—there was only onesuggestive point. Miss St. Maur said that after the lights were turned outand Mr. Thesiger went over to the window, he was so still that she thoughthe must have left the room and gone outside. Now, if anyone is in theroom, you can hardly help hearing their breathing if you are listening forit. Supposing, then, that Mr. Thesiger had gone outside. Where next? Upthe ivy to Mr. O’Rourke’s room—Mr. O’Rourke’s whisky and soda havingbeen doped the night before. He gets the papers, throws them down to thegirl, climbs down the ivy again, and—starts the fight. That’s easy enoughwhen you come to think of it. Knock the tables down, stagger about, speakin your own voice and then in a hoarse half whisper. And then, the finaltouch, the two revolver shots. His own Colt automatic, bought openly theday before, is fired at an imaginary assailant. Then, with his left glovedhand, he takes from his pocket the small Mauser pistol and shoots himselfthrough the fleshy part of the right arm. He flings the pistol through thewindow, tears off the glove with his teeth, and throws it into the fire.
When I arrive he is lying on the floor in a faint.”
Bundle drew a deep breath.
“You didn’t realize all this at the time, Superintendent Battle?”
“No, that I didn’t. I was taken in as much as anyone could be. It wasn’ttill long afterwards that I pieced it all together. Finding the glove was thebeginning of it. Then I made Sir Oswald throw the pistol through the win-dow. It fell a good way farther on than it should have done. But a manwho is right-handed doesn’t throw nearly as far with the left hand. Eventhen it was only suspicion—and a very faint suspicion at that.
“But there was one point struck me. The papers were obviously throwndown for someone to pick up. If Miss Wade was there by accident, whowas the real person? Of course, for those who weren’t in the know, thatquestion was answered easily enough—the Countess. But there I had thepull over you. I knew the Countess was all right. So what follows? Why, theidea that the papers had actually been picked up by the person they weremeant for. And the more I thought of it, the more it seemed to me a veryremarkable coincidence that Miss Wade should have arrived at the exactmoment she did.”
“It must have been very difficult for you when I came to you full of sus-picion about the Countess.”
“It was, Lady Eileen. I had to say something to put you off the scent. Andit was very difficult for Mr. Eversleigh here, with the lady coming out of adead faint and no knowing what she might say.”
“I understand Bill’s anxiety now,” said Bundle. “And the way he kept ur-ging her to take time and not talk till she felt quite all right.”
“Poor old Bill,” said Miss St. Maur. “That poor baby had to be vampedagainst his will—getting madder’n a hornet every minute.”
“Well,” said Superintendent Battle, “there it was. I suspected Mr.
Thesiger — but I couldn’t get definite proof. On the other hand, Mr.
Thesiger himself was rattled. He realized more or less what he was upagainst in the Seven Dials—but he wanted badly to know who No 7 was.
He got himself asked to the Cootes under the impression that Sir OswaldCoote was No 7.”
“I suspected Sir Oswald,” said Bundle, “especially when he came in fromthe garden that night.”
“I never suspected him,” said Battle. “But I don’t mind telling you that Idid have my suspicions of that young chap, his secretary.”
“Pongo?” said Bill. “Not old Pongo?”
“Yes, Mr. Eversleigh, old Pongo as you call him. A very efficient gentle-man and one that could have put anything through if he’d a mind to. I sus-pected him partly because he’d been the one to take the clocks into Mr.
Wade’s room that night. It would have been easy for him to put the bottleand glass by the bedside then. And then, for another thing, he was left-handed. That glove pointed straight to him—if it hadn’t been for one thing—”
“What?”
“The teeth marks — only a man whose right hand was incapacitatedwould have needed to tear off that glove with his teeth.”
“So Pongo was cleared.”
“So Pongo was cleared, as you say. I’m sure it would be a great surpriseto Mr. Bateman to know he was ever suspected.”
“It would,” agreed Bill. “A solemn card — a silly ass like Pongo. Howcould you ever think—”
“Well, as far as that goes, Mr. Thesiger was what you might describe asan empty-headed young ass of the most brainless description. One of thetwo was playing a part. When I decided that it was Mr. Thesiger, I was in-terested to get Mr. Bateman’s opinion of him. All along, Mr. Bateman hadthe gravest suspicions of Mr. Thesiger and frequently said as much to SirOswald.”
“It’s curious,” said Bill, “but Pongo always is right. It’s maddening.”
“Well, as I say,” went on Superintendent Battle, “we got Mr. Thesigerfairly on the run, badly rattled over this Seven Dials business and uncer-tain just where the danger lay. That we got him in the end was solelythrough Mr. Eversleigh. He knew what he was up against, and he riskedhis life cheerfully. But he never dreamt that you would be dragged into it,Lady Eileen.”
“My God, no,” said Bill with feeling.
“He went round to Mr. Thesiger’s rooms with a cooked-up tale,” contin-ued Battle. “He was to pretend that certain papers of Mr. Devereux’s hadcome into his hands. Those papers were to suggest a suspicion of Mr.
Thesiger. Naturally, as the honest friend, Mr. Eversleigh rushed round,sure that Mr. Thesiger would have an explanation. We calculated that ifwe were right, Mr. Thesiger would try and put Mr. Eversleigh out of theway, and we were fairly certain as to the way he’d do it. Sure enough, Mr.
Thesiger gave his guest a whisky and soda. During the minute or two thathis host was out of the room. Mr. Eversleigh poured that into a jar on themantelpiece, but he had to pretend, of course, that the drug was taking ef-fect. It would be slow, he knew, not sudden. He began his story, and Mr.
Thesiger at first denied it all indignantly, but as soon as he saw (or thoughthe saw) that the drug was taking effect, he admitted everything and toldMr. Eversleigh that he was the third victim.
“When Mr. Eversleigh was nearly unconscious, Mr. Thesiger took himdown to the car and helped him in. The hood was up. He must alreadyhave telephoned to you unknown to Mr. Eversleigh. He made a clever sug-gestion to you. You were to say that you were taking Miss Wade home.
“You made no mention of a message from him. Later when your bodywas found here, Miss Wade would swear that you had driven her homeand gone up to London with the idea of penetrating into this house byyourself.
“Mr. Eversleigh continued to play his part, that of the unconscious man.
I may say that as soon as the two young men had left Jermyn Street, one ofmy men gained admission and found the doctored whisky, which con-tained enough hydrochloride of morphia to kill two men. Also the car theywere in was followed. Mr. Thesiger drove out of town to a well-known golfcourse, where he showed himself for a few minutes, speaking of playing around. That, of course, was for an alibi, should one be needed. He left thecar with Mr. Eversleigh in it a little way down the road. Then he droveback to town and to the Seven Dials Club. As soon as he saw Alfred leave,he drove up to the door, spoke to Mr. Eversleigh as he got out in case youmight be listening and came into the house and played his little comedy.
“When he pretended to go for a doctor, he really only slammed the doorand then crept quietly upstairs and hid behind the door of this room,where Miss Wade would presently send you up on some excuse. Mr.
Eversleigh, of course, was horror-struck when he saw you, but he thoughtit best to keep up the part he was playing. He knew our people werewatching the house, and he imagined that there was no immediate dangerintended to you. He could always ‘come to life’ at any moment. When Mr.
Thesiger threw his revolver on the table and apparently left the house itseemed safer than ever. As for the next bit—” He paused, looking at Bill.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell that, sir.”
“I was still lying on that bally sofa,” said Bill, “trying to look done in andgetting the fidgets worse and worse. Then I heard someone run down thestairs, and Loraine got up and went to the door. I heard Thesiger’s voice,but not what he said. I heard Loraine say: ‘That’s all right—it’s gone splen-didly.’ Then he said: ‘Help me carry him up. It will be a bit of a job, but Iwant them both together there—a nice little surprise for No 7.’ I didn’tquite understand what they were jawing about, but they hauled me up thestairs somehow or other. It was a bit of a job for them. I made myself adead weight all right. They heaved me in here, and then I heard Lorainesay: ‘You’re sure it’s all right? She won’t come round?’ And Jimmy said—the damned blackguard: ‘No fear. I hit her with all my might.’
“They went away and locked the door, and then I opened my eyes andsaw you. My God, Bundle, I shall never feel so perfectly awful again. Ithought you were dead.”
“I suppose my hat saved me,” said Bundle.
“Partly,” said Superintendent Battle. “But partly it was Mr. Thesiger’swounded arm. He didn’t realize it himself—but it had only half its usualstrength. Still, that’s all no credit to the Department. We didn’t take thecare of you we ought to have done, Lady Eileen—and it’s a black blot onthe whole business.”
“I’m very tough,” said Bundle. “And also rather lucky. What I can’t getover is Loraine being in it. She was such a gentle little thing.”
“Ah!” said the Superintendent. “So was the Pentonville murderess thatkilled five children. You can’t go by that. She’s got bad blood in her—herfather ought to have seen the inside of a prison more than once.”
“You’ve got her too?”
Superintendent Battle nodded.
“I daresay they won’t hang her — juries are softhearted. But youngThesiger will swing all right—and a good thing too—a more utterly de-praved and callous criminal I never met.”
“And now,” he added, “if your head isn’t aching too badly, Lady Eileen,what about a little celebration? There’s a nice little restaurant round thecorner.”
Bundle heartily agreed.
“I’m starving, Superintendent Battle. Besides,” she looked round. “I’vegot to get to know all my colleagues.”
“The Seven Dials,” said Bill. “Hurrah! Some fizz is what we need. Do theyrun to fizz at this place, Battle?”
“You won’t have anything to complain of, sir. You leave it to me.”
“Superintendent Battle,” said Bundle, “you are a wonderful man. I’msorry you’re married already. As it is, I shall have to put up with Bill.”
第三十三章 巴特尔的解说
第三十三章 巴特尔的解说
巴特尔警司娓娓道来，开始解说一切谜团。
“我自己也是过了很长一段时间才怀疑到他的头上，我是听到德弗卢先生临死前说的最后几个字才得到启发的。自然，你以为那几个字是德弗卢先生要你带话给塞西杰先生，说七面钟杀害了他——字面上似乎是这个意思。但我当然知道不是那么回事，德弗卢先生是想告诉七面钟一些有关吉米•塞西杰的事。
“这似乎令人难以置信，因为德弗卢和塞西杰是很亲密的朋友。但我想起了其他一些情况……这几起盗窃案肯定是某个了解内情的人干的。这个人如果不在外交部工作，就是有办法打听到内幕。此外，我还发现很难查清楚塞西杰先生的钱是从哪儿来的。他父亲留给他的财产只是个小数目，他却能过上非常奢侈的生活。那么钱从哪里来？
“我知道韦德先生为自己的发现非常兴奋，他十分肯定自己的路线是对的。但是他谁也信不过，没有透露自己掌握了哪些线索，可是，他确实跟德弗卢先生提过。那次谈话就发生在他们一起去烟囱别墅度周末之前。正如你所知，韦德先生死在那儿……显然是服用了过量的安眠药。情况似乎很明朗，但是德弗卢先生并没有马上接受这样的解释。他坚信韦德先生是被谋杀的，凶手的手法很高明，而且他还坚信烟囱别墅里的某个人实际上就是我们正在追查的罪犯。我猜想，当时他差一点就把自己的想法告诉了塞西杰先生，因为那时他并没有对他起疑。但是，也许是出于某种考虑，他最终没有说出来。
“接着，他做了一件有些奇怪的事情——他把七只闹钟摆在壁炉架上，扔掉了多出来的第八只。他是想用它们来表示七面钟会为他们的成员之死报仇……然后他急切地观察，看有没有人在看到那些闹钟之后，会露出马脚或者流露出惊慌的痕迹。”
“是吉米•塞西杰毒死了格里•韦德？”
“不错，在韦德先生睡觉之前，吉米往他喝的威士忌加苏打水中下了毒，所以韦德才会在写给洛兰小姐的信中说自己很困。”
“这么说来，那个听差包尔跟那件事无关？”邦德尔问道。
“包尔是我们的人，艾琳小姐。我们认为那个窃贼有可能去偷赫尔•埃伯哈德的发明，于是就安插了包尔，要他注意事态的发展。但是包尔没有发挥多少作用。我前面说过了，塞西杰轻而易举就投下了致命的毒药。后来，趁大家熟睡的时候，塞西杰又把一只瓶子、一只杯子和一个空的氯醛药瓶扔在韦德先生的床边。当时韦德先生已经不省人事，他很有可能抓住韦德先生的手，在玻璃杯和药瓶上留下了指纹，以便消除别人的怀疑。我不知道塞西杰先生在看到壁炉架上的那七只闹钟之后有什么反应，他当然不会在德弗卢先生面前表露出来。尽管如此，我想他肯定有一段时间十分不好受，时不时就会想到那些闹钟。而且，我猜想，从那以后，他就开始密切注意德弗卢先生的一举一动了。
“接下来发生的情况我们不是特别清楚。韦德先生死后，就不太有人见到过德弗卢先生。不过很明显，他顺着韦德先生的提示一直追查下去，并且得到了同样的结论……那就是，塞西杰先生正是我们要抓捕的窃贼。而且我猜想，他也是被同一个人出卖的。”
“您是指……”
“洛兰•韦德小姐。韦德先生对她一往情深……我相信他希望跟她结婚……当然，她并非真的是他的妹妹……而且，毫无疑问，他跟她说了太多不该说的事情。但是洛兰•韦德小姐却爱着塞西杰先生，愿意为他做任何事情。于是，她就把那个消息透露给了他。同样，德弗卢先生后来也爱上了她，也许还警告过她要提防塞西杰。于是，轮到德弗卢先生被灭口了……他临死前想带话给七面钟，说杀害他的人是塞西杰。”
“太可怕了，”邦德尔叫道，“要是我早点知道就好了。”
“嗯，似乎不太可能。老实说，我自己也几乎无法相信。接下来就发生了双足飞龙教堂的事。今后你肯定会想起那时有多难堪……尤其对埃弗斯利先生来说，更是难堪。你和塞西杰先生联合行动。你坚持要埃弗斯利先生带你们到那儿去，他已经够窘迫了，而当他发现你偷听到了会议的内容时，更是惊呆了。”
警司顿了顿，眨了眨眼睛。
“我也一样，艾琳小姐。我做梦也想不到竟有这种事。你确实把我吓着了。
“唉，埃弗斯利先生左右为难。如果他告诉你七面钟的秘密，那塞西杰先生就不可能不知道……这是绝对行不通的。而且，这么做也正中塞西杰的下怀，这样他就有了一个现成的理由，可以顺理成章地进入双足飞龙教堂——于是他的计划实施起来就容易多了。
“我承认七面钟给洛马克斯先生寄了一封恐吓信，那是为了确保他来找我帮忙，这样我就可以来到现场。而且你也看到了，我在场时没有加以掩饰。”
警司又眨了眨眼睛。
“还有，表面上是埃弗斯利先生和塞西杰先生分两班值夜，但实际上值夜的是埃弗斯利先生和圣•摩尔小姐。她当时在藏书室的窗户边上值夜，这时听到塞西杰先生走过来，才不得不急忙闪到屏风后面去躲藏。
“说到这里，塞西杰先生的聪明之处就表露出来了。他给我讲了一个极其真实的故事，我必须承认，听他说到搏斗等等细节，我明显动摇了……我开始拿不准他跟盗窃案到底有没有关系，或者说我们的思路是不是搞错了方向。有一两处疑点与我们的思路根本不吻合。我可以跟你说，当时我真不知道如何是好。这时，出现了一个情况，终于解决了难题。
“我在壁炉里找到了那只烧得焦黑、上面有牙齿印的手套，那时……呃……我才知道我终究还是对的。不过，他的确很聪明。”
“究竟是怎么回事？”邦德尔问道，“另外一个人是谁？”
“根本没有另外一个人。听着，我来告诉你整个事情的来龙去脉。首先，塞西杰先生和韦德小姐是串通好的。他们事先约定了一个准确的会合时间和地点。韦德小姐开车过来，翻过篱笆，然后靠近屋子。如果有人拦住她，她就说出那套早已编好的完美的说词……就是后来她说的那套。不过，她还是一帆风顺地来到了露台，当时正好是两点。
“好了，我现在从有人发现洛兰开始说起。我的手下发现了她，但我给他们的命令是，凡是进去的人一律放行……只拦住任何想出去的人。听我说，我是想尽可能多地查明情况。当韦德小姐来到露台时，一个纸包落到了她的脚边，她捡了起来。同时一个男人顺着常春藤往下爬，而她则转身就跑。接下来又发生了什么？搏斗……跟着是两声枪响。听到枪声，大家会怎么样？当然是赶到搏斗现场，这样洛兰小姐就可以顺利离开庭院，带着配方开车扬长而去。
“可是事情的发展并非如此。韦德小姐恰好和我撞了个正着，于是整个游戏就起了变化，他们只好转攻为守。韦德小姐抛出了那套说词，滴水不漏，合情合理。
“接下来我们赶到塞西杰先生那里，我立刻就注意到一个情况。单单是受了枪伤并不足以让他昏倒，除非是摔倒时撞到了头……或者……呃，这么说吧，他根本就没昏过去。后来我们听了圣•摩尔小姐的叙述。她的叙述跟塞西杰先生所说相当吻合……只有一点耐人寻味。圣•摩尔小姐说塞西杰先生关灯之后就走到了窗口，然后房间里没有一点声音，以至于她以为塞西杰一定是离开到外面去了。注意，只要房间里有人，而且你仔细倾听的话，再怎么也能够察觉到他的动静。那么，假设塞西杰先生真的出去了，他会到什么地方去？顺着常春藤爬到了奥罗克先生的房间……当天夜里，奥罗克先生喝的威士忌加苏打水早已被人投下了安眠药。他拿到了文件，扔给下面的女孩子，再顺着常春藤爬下来，然后……就开始了搏斗。你想到了这一点，就容易搞懂了。把桌子一张张弄翻，摇摇晃晃走来走去，先用自己的声音说话，再装出一副假嗓子。然后，再来个点睛之笔——两声枪响。他用自己那把柯尔特式自动手枪对着假想的袭击者开了一枪，就是前些天大家都看到的那把手枪。然后，他用戴着手套的左手从口袋里掏出毛瑟小手枪，对着自己的右胳膊又开了一枪，子弹打穿了胳膊。紧接着，他把这把手枪抛出窗外，用牙齿咬下手套，扔进火里。当我赶到现场时，他假装昏倒在地。”
邦德尔深深地吸了一口气。
“事情的真相您当时并不清楚吧，巴特尔警司？”
“是的，我当时并不清楚。我和大家一样被骗了，直到事后很久，我才一点一滴地把真相拼凑起来——是从发现那只手套开始的。然后我邀请奥斯瓦德爵士把手枪从窗子扔出去，手枪落下的位置比它本该落下的位置要远很多。一个惯用右手的人用左手扔东西的话，一般是扔不到右手那么远的。可是，这依然只是怀疑……而且是理由并不充分的怀疑。
“不过，有一点引起了我的注意。那些文件显然是扔下来要某个人去捡的。如果韦德小姐是碰巧在那儿的话，那么真正要去捡的那个人又是谁呢？当然，对于那些不知内情的人来说，答案就很简单了……不是伯爵夫人是谁？但是，在这个问题上，我把你骗了。我知道伯爵夫人没问题。那么，真正的帮凶又是谁？哎呀，捡东西的人就是扔东西的人想扔给的那个人。我越这么想，就越觉得这是一个不可思议的巧合——韦德小姐不早不晚正好在那时出现。”
“当我跑去跟您说怀疑伯爵夫人时，您一定犯难了吧？”邦德尔说道。
“是的，艾琳小姐。我不得不转移话题，免得你继续追查下去。而且，埃弗斯利先生也非常为难，伯爵夫人刚刚苏醒过来，还不知道她会说些什么。”
“我现在明白当时比尔为什么那么着急了，”邦德尔说道，“他一再叫她别着急，等感觉好了再说也不迟。”
“真是难为比尔老弟了，”圣•摩尔小姐说道，“他不得不违心地演戏，假装受到我的勾引……每分每秒都招来你的怨恨。”
“好啦，”巴特尔警司说道，“好啦。我怀疑塞西杰先生……但我找不到确凿的证据。从另一方面来说，塞西杰先生自己也慌了神，他多多少少了解到他的对手是七面钟……而且很想知道七点钟是谁。他想办法去了库特家，因为他觉得奥斯瓦德•库特爵士就是七点钟。”
“我也怀疑过奥斯瓦德爵士，”邦德尔说道，“特别是他那天晚上从花园过来的时候。”
“我从没怀疑过他，”巴特尔说道，“不过我不妨告诉你，我确实怀疑过那个年轻人，他的秘书。”
“黑猩猩？”比尔说道，“不可能是黑猩猩吧？”
“有可能的，埃弗斯利先生，就是你说的那个黑猩猩。这个人非常能干，如果他想做什么，没有干不成的。我之所以怀疑过他，一是因为那天晚上是他把闹钟放在韦德先生的房间里。他完全可以顺手把玻璃杯和药瓶放在床边。还有另外一个原因，他是个左撇子。那只手套正好和他的情况吻合……如果不是……”
“不是什么？”
“牙齿印……只有右手动不了人才必须用牙齿扯掉手套。”
“这么一来，黑猩猩就洗清嫌疑啦？”
“你说的没错，这么一来黑猩猩就没有嫌疑了。如果贝特曼先生知道他曾经被怀疑过，肯定会大吃一惊的。”
“肯定会，”比尔附和道，“像黑猩猩那样一本正经的家伙……一个大蠢驴。你怎么会认为……”
“唉，就表面来说，塞西杰先生正是一个你所谓的没脑子的小蠢驴。他们两个当中必定有一个是在演戏。当我断定是塞西杰先生时，我很有兴趣想听听贝特曼先生对他的看法。
贝特曼先生一直怀疑塞西杰先生，而且经常跟奥斯瓦德爵士提起。”
“奇怪，”比尔说道，“黑猩猩总是对的，真叫人受不了。”
“好啦，正如我说的，”巴特尔警司接着说道，“塞西杰先生相当紧张，面对七面钟，他感到非常不安，不清楚哪里才是真正的危险。最后，我们完全是靠埃弗斯利先生的努力才把他捉拿归案。比尔完全知道他将面临的情况，但是他做梦也没想到会把你拖进来，艾琳小姐。”
“天哪，做梦也没想到。”比尔充满感情地说道。
“他编了个故事找到塞西杰先生的住处，”巴特尔接着说道，“假装收到了德弗卢先生遗交的一些文件。那些文件提到了对塞西杰先生的怀疑。很自然，作为忠实的朋友，埃弗斯利先生应该马上赶过去通知他，并且相信塞西杰先生会作出解释。我们推断，如果我们的怀疑没错的话，塞西杰先生会设法把埃弗斯利先生除掉，而且我们确信他会采取什么手段。果然，塞西杰给埃弗斯利倒了一杯威士忌加苏打水。趁塞西杰走开的那一两分钟，埃弗斯利先生把那杯酒倒进了壁炉架上的一个罐子里，然后假戏真做，假装药物开始发生作用。他知道塞西杰投下的是慢性毒药，于是他开始叙述事先编好的故事。刚开始塞西杰先生当然是一概不认账，但是当他看到，或者以为自己看到药性开始在埃弗斯利先生身上发作时，便承认了一切，还跟埃弗斯利先生说他就是第三个送死的。
“当埃弗斯利先生接近不省人事时，塞西杰先生就把他带到楼下的汽车里，并且支起了车篷。他肯定背着埃弗斯利先生给你打过电话，巧妙地给了你一个暗示，要你跟家里人说是要送韦德小姐回家。
“你没有向别人提到塞西杰要你赶往七面钟俱乐部的事，这样，当你的尸体后来在这里被人发现时，韦德小姐会发誓说你开车把她送回了家，然后一个人去伦敦闯入了这幢房子。
“埃弗斯利先生继续表演，假装昏迷不醒。我可以告诉你，这两个人一离开杰明街，我的一个手下就进入塞西杰先生的住处，找到了掺有毒药的威士忌，里面所含的盐酸吗啡足以毒死两个人。另外，他们的那辆小汽车也被跟踪了。塞西杰先生先把车开到城外一个有名的高尔夫球场附近，然后在那儿待了几分钟——让别人看在眼里，自己要去打一场球。
当然啦，这只是制造不在场的证明，必要时可以派上用场。然后，他再开车回城，一直到七面钟俱乐部。等他一看到阿尔弗雷德离开，就把汽车开到门口。他下车时假装跟埃弗斯利先生说话，是怕你在听而特意表演给你看的，然后他就进了房子，开始表演这出闹剧。
“当他假装要去找医生时，实际上只是砰的一声用力把门关上，自己并没有出去。然后他再悄悄溜上楼，躲在这个房间的门背后。随即韦德小姐就找了个借口把你打发到这里。
当然，埃弗斯利先生见到你时也吓了一跳，但他觉得最好还是假装下去。他知道我们的人在监视这幢房子，你应该不会有危险，更何况他随时可以‘苏醒过来’。当塞西杰先生把手枪留在桌子上时，他觉得似乎是更安全了。至于接下来的情况……”他顿了顿，看了看比尔说道，“还是你来说说吧，先生。”
“我仍然躺在那张讨厌的沙发上，”比尔说道，“努力装出快要死的样子。然后我听见有人从楼上跑下来，洛兰站起身来朝门口走去。我听见是塞西杰的声音，但听不清说什么。
我听到洛兰说：‘好了……彻底不行了。’然后他说道：‘帮我把他抬上去。会费点儿劲，不过我想让他们俩在一起……给七点钟一个小小的诧异。’我不太清楚他们在说些什么，但他们还是费力地把我弄上了楼。我把自己弄得死沉死沉的，让他们费了不少劲。他们把我扔进了房间，然后我听洛兰说：‘你确定搞定了？她再也不会醒过来？’吉米……那个该死的混蛋说：‘别担心，我是用尽全力打的。’
“他们锁上门就走了，然后我睁开眼睛看到了你。天哪，邦德尔，我从没有过那么害怕的感觉。我当时以为你死了。”
“恐怕是我头上的帽子救了我。”邦德尔说道。
“一是帽子，”巴特尔警司说道，“二是塞西杰先生的手臂还没有完全好。他自己并没有意识到……他的那条胳膊只有平时一半的力气。不过，这完全不是我们部门的功劳。我们没有尽到保护你的责任，艾琳小姐……这是这次行动当中不光彩的地方。”
“我太固执了，”邦德尔说道，“但我也太幸运了。不过我想不通的是，洛兰居然也有份儿。这个小姑娘那么温文尔雅……”
“唉！”警司说道，“本顿维尔监狱里那个杀害了五个孩子的女凶犯也是。你不能光看外表。她骨子里就不好……她的父亲应该不止一次进过监狱。”
“您也把她抓到了？”
巴特尔警司点了点头。
“也许不会判处绞刑……陪审团的人大多是软心肠。不过年轻的塞西杰肯定会被绞死……也是一件好事……我还从没遇见过比他还卑鄙无耻、残酷无情的歹徒。”
“好啦，”他补充说道，“如果你的头不那么痛的话，艾琳小姐，我们庆祝一下怎么样？
转角就有一家很不错的小饭店。”
邦德尔完全同意。
“我都快饿死了，巴特尔警司。等一下，”她四下打量了一番，“我得认识一下我的新同事。”
“七面钟，”比尔说道，“万岁！我们要好好喝一顿香槟。他们是不是都跑去喝过了，巴特尔？”
“包你满意，先生。看我的好了。”
“巴特尔警司，”邦德尔说道，“你真了不起，但恐怕你已经结过婚了。看来，我只好将就着跟比尔凑合了。”
Thirty-four LORD CATERHAM APPROVES
Thirty-four LORD CATERHAM APPROVES

“Father,” said Bundle, “I’ve got to break a piece of news to you. You’re go-ing to lose me.”
“Nonsense,” said Lord Caterham. “Don’t tell me that you’re sufferingfrom galloping consumption or a weak heart or anything like that, be-cause I simply don’t believe it.”
“It’s not death,” said Bundle. “It’s marriage.”
“Very nearly as bad,” said Lord Caterham. “I suppose I shall have tocome to the wedding, all dressed up in tight uncomfortable clothes, andgive you away. And Lomax may think it necessary to kiss me in thevestry.”
“Good heavens! You don’t think I’m going to marry George, do you?”
cried Bundle.
“Well, something like that seemed to be in the wind last time I saw you,”
said her father. “Yesterday morning, you know.”
“I’m going to be married to someone a hundred times nicer thanGeorge,” said Bundle.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” said Lord Caterham. “But one never knows. I don’tfeel you’re really a good judge of character, Bundle. You told me thatyoung Thesiger was a cheerful inefficient, and from all I hear now itseems that he was one of the most efficient criminals of the day. The sadthing is that I never met him. I was thinking of writing my reminiscencessoon—with a special chapter on murderers I have met—and by a purelytechnical oversight, I never met this young man.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Bundle. “You know you haven’t got the energy towrite reminiscences or anything else.”
“I wasn’t actually going to write them myself,” said Lord Caterham. “Ibelieve that’s never done. But I met a very charming girl the other day andthat’s her special job. She collects the material and does all the actual writ-ing.”
“And what do you do?”
“Oh, just give her a few facts for half an hour every day. Nothing morethan that.” After a slight pause, Lord Catherham said: “She was a nice-looking girl—very restful and sympathetic.”
“Father,” said Bundle, “I have a feeling that without me you will run intodeadly danger.”
“Different kinds of danger suit different kinds of people,” said LordCaterham.
He was moving away, when he turned back and said over his shoulder:
“By the way, Bundle, who are you marrying?”
“I was wondering,” said Bundle, “when you were going to ask me that.
I’m going to marry Bill Eversleigh.”
The egoist thought it over for a minute. Then he nodded in complete sat-isfaction.
“Excellent,” he said. “He’s scratch, isn’t he? He and I can play together inthe foursomes in the Autumn Meeting.”
第三十四章 凯特勒姆勋爵欣然应允
第三十四章 凯特勒姆勋爵欣然应允
“爸爸，”邦德尔说道，“我有个消息要告诉您。您就要失去我了。”
“瞎说，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“别跟我说什么你得了急性痨病或者心力衰竭之类的，我根本不信。”
“我不是说要死，”邦德尔说道，“我是说我要嫁人了。”
“这跟要死也差不多，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“恐怕我得穿上浑身不舒服的紧身礼服去参加婚礼，再把你送走。而且，洛马克斯可能会认为有必要在礼堂上吻我一下。”
“天哪！您不会以为我是要跟乔治结婚吧？”邦德尔大声叫道。
“嗯，我上次见到你时好像有这种趋势，”她父亲说道，“就在昨天上午，你知道的。”
“我要嫁的人比乔治要好一百倍。”邦德尔说道。
“但愿如此，真的，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“谁说得准呢。我不觉得你看人看得很准，邦德尔。你以前跟我说过，那个叫塞西杰的年轻人是个快乐开心的庸碌之辈，但从我听说到的情况来看，他好像是当今最有能耐的罪犯之一。可惜我跟他没有见过面。我以前想过，不久就要写我的回忆录了……专门用一章来写我所见过的杀人凶手……但纯粹由于疏忽，我竟然与他未曾谋面。”
“别傻了，”邦德尔说道，“您很清楚自己根本没有精力去写什么回忆录的。”
“也不是真的要我自己动笔来写，”凯特勒姆勋爵说道，“靠我自己写是写不出来的，不过前些天我碰到了一个非常可爱的女孩，她就是专门做代笔的。她搜集素材，然后负责写作。”
“那您干什么呢？”
“哦，只要每天花半小时给她提供几个事实就行了，别的什么也不用干。”稍微停顿了一下之后，凯特勒姆勋爵接着说道，“她的样子很好看，而且非常淑女，非常有同情心。”
“爸爸，”邦德尔说道，“我有一个感觉，要是我不在您身边的话，您会陷入致命的危险之中。”
“不同的危险适合不同的人。”凯特勒姆勋爵说道。
他正要走开，突然回过头来问道：
“对了，邦德尔，你要嫁给谁？”
“我还纳闷呢，”邦德尔说道，“您什么时候才会问我这个呢……我要嫁给比尔•埃弗斯利。”
这个自我主义者想了一会儿，然后十分满意地点了点头。
“好极了，”他说道，“巧了，可不是吗？他和我一起可以组队参加秋季高尔夫球双打比赛了。”