Dear Robert
Dear Robert,
Since you are kind enough to say you like my stories, I venture to dedicate this book to you. All I ask is that you should sternly restrain your critical faculties (doubtless sharpened by your recent excesses in that line!) when reading it.
This is a story for your pleasure and not a candidate for Mr. Graves’ lit-erary pillory!
Your friend,


献给罗伯特·格雷夫斯
献给罗伯特•格雷夫斯 [1]
亲爱的罗伯特：
既然你那么诚挚地说你喜欢我的故事，我就斗胆把这本书献给你了。我只求你在阅读时千万要口下留情（毫无疑问，你近来的大肆评论已经让你在这方面愈加老辣犀利了）。
这仅是个供你消遣的故事，可不是让格雷夫斯先生用来做文学批判对象的啊！
你的朋友

[1]罗伯特•冯•兰克•格雷夫斯（Robert von Ranke Graves，1895—1985），英国著名诗人，小说家和评论家。

Prologue: November 19th
Prologue: November 19th
The group round the fireplace was nearly all composed of lawyers or those who had an interest in the law. There was Martindale the solicitor, Rufus Lord, K.C., young Daniels who had made a name for himself in the Carstairs case, a sprinkling of other barristers, Mr. Justice Cleaver, Lewis of Lewis and Trench and old Mr. Treves. Mr. Treves was dose on eighty, a very ripe and experienced eighty. He was a member of a famous firm of solicitors, and the most famous member of that firm. He had settled innumerable delicate cases out of court, he was said to know more of backstairs history than any man in England and he was a specialist on criminology.
Unthinking people said Mr. Treves ought to write his memoirs. Mr. Treves knew better. He knew that he knew too much.
Though he had long retired from active practice, there was no man in England whose opinion was so respected by the members of his own fraternity. Whenever his thin precise little voice was raised there was always a respectful silence.
The conversation now was on the subject of a much talked-of case which had finished that day at the Old Bailey. It was a murder case and the prisoner had been acquitted. The present company was busy trying the case over again and making technical criticisms.
The prosecution had made a mistake in relying on one of its witnesses - old Depleach ought to have realised what an opening he was giving to the defence. Young Arthur had made the most of that servant girl's evidence. Bentmore, in his summing-up, had very rightly put the matter in its correct perspective, but the mischief was done by then - the jury had believed the girl. Juries were funny - you never knew what they'd swallow and what they wouldn't. But let them once get a thing into their heads and no one was ever going to get it out again. They believed that the girl was speaking the truth about the crowbar and that was that. The medical evidence had been a bit above their heads. All those long terms and scientific jargon - damned bad witnesses, these scientific johnnies -always hemmed and hawed and couldn't say yes or no to a plain question -always "in certain circumstances that might take place" - and so on!
They talked themselves out, little by little, and as the remarks became more spasmodic and disjointed, a general feeling grew of something lacking. One head after another turned in the direction of Mr. Treves. For Mr. Treves had as yet contributed nothing to the discussion. Gradually it became apparent that the company was waiting for a final word from its most respected colleague.
Mr. Treves, leaning back in his chair, was absent-mindedly polishing his glasses. Something in the silence made him look up sharply.
"Eh?" he said. "What was that? You asked me something?"
Young Lewis spoke.
"We were talking, sir, about the Lamorne case."
He paused expectantly.
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Treves. "I was thinking of that."
There was a respectful hush.
"But I'm afraid," said Mr. Treves, still polishing, "that I was being fanciful. Yes, fanciful. Result of getting on in years, I suppose. At my age one can claim the privilege of being fanciful, if one likes."
"Yes, indeed, sir," said young Lewis, but he looked puzzled.
"I was thinking," said Mr. Treves, "not so much of the various points of law raised - though they were interesting - very interesting - if the verdict had gone the other way there would have been good grounds for appeal, I rather think -but I won't go into that now. I was thinking, as I say, not of the points of law, but of the - well, of the people in the case."
Everybody looked rather astonished. They had considered the people in the case only as regarding their credibility or otherwise as witnesses. No one had even hazarded a speculation as to whether the prisoner had been guilty or as innocent as the court had pronounced him to be.
"Human beings, you know," said Mr. Treves thoughtfully. "Human beings. All kinds and sorts and sizes and shapes of 'em. Some with brains and a good many more without. They'd come from all over the place, Lancashire, Scotland - that restaurant proprietor from Italy, and that school-teacher woman from somewhere out Middle West. All caught up and enmeshed in the thing and finally all brought together in a court of law in London on a grey November day. Each one contributing his little part. The whole thing culminating in a trial for murder."
He paused and gently beat a delicate tattoo on his knee.
"I like a good detective story," he said. "But, you know, they begin in the wrong place! They begin with the murder. But the murder is the end. The story begins long before that - years before, sometimes - with all the causes and events that bring certain people to a certain place at a certain time on a certain day. Take that little maid-servant's evidence - if the kitchen-maid hadn't pinched her young man she wouldn't have thrown up her situation in a huff and gone to the Lamornes and been the principal witness for the defence. That Guiseppe Antonelli - coming over to exchange with his brother for a month. The brother is as blind as a bat. He wouldn't have seen what Guiseppe's sharp eyes saw. If the constable hadn't been sweet on the cook at No. 48, he wouldn't have been late on his beat ..."
He nodded his head gently: "All converging towards a given spot ... And then, when the time comes - over the top! Zero Hour. Yes, all of them converging towards zero ..."
He repeated. "Towards zero ..." Then gave a quick little shudder. "You're cold, sir; come nearer the fire."
"No, no," said Mr. Treves. "Just someone walking over my grave, as they say. Well, well, I must be making my way homewards."
He gave an affable little nod and went slowly and precisely out of the room.
There was a moment of dubious silence and then Rufus Lord, K.C., remarked that poor old Treves was getting on.
Sir William Cleaver said: "An acute brain - a very acute brain - but Anno Domini tells in the end."
"Got a groggy heart, too," said Lord. "May drop down any minute, I believe." "He takes pretty good care of himself," said young Lewis.
At that moment Mr. Treves was carefully stepping into his smooth-running Daimler. It deposited him at a house in a quiet square. A solicitous butler-valet helped him off with his coat. Mr. Treves walked into his library, where a coal fire was burning. His bedroom lay beyond, for out of consideration for his heart he never went upstairs.
He sat down in front of the fire and drew his letters towards him. His mind was still dwelling on the fancy he had out-lined at the Club.
"Even now," thought Mr. Treves to himself, "some drama - some murder to be -is in course of preparation. If I were writing one of these amusing stories of blood and crime, I should begin now with an elderly gentleman sitting in front of the fire opening his letters - going - unbeknownst to himself - 'towards zero ...'"
He slit open an envelope and gazed down absently at the sheet he abstracted from it.
Suddenly his expression changed. He came back from romance to reality.
"Dear me," said Mr. Treves. "How extremely annoying! Really, how very vexing! After all these years! This will alter all my plans."
序幕：十一月十九日
序幕：十一月十九日
围在壁炉前的这群人几乎清一色全是律师或者法律界人士。这其中有律师马丁代尔，王室法律顾问鲁弗斯•洛德，因“卡斯泰尔斯”一案而名噪一时的小丹尼尔斯，此外还有几名大律师，包括贾斯蒂斯•克里弗先生，来自刘易斯和特伦奇公司的刘易斯，以及年迈的特里夫斯先生。特里夫斯先生快八十岁了，老成干练，是一家著名律师事务所的成员，同时也是那里最著名的律师，据说他了解的隐秘历史比全英格兰任何人的都多，而且还是个犯罪学方面的专家。
不动脑子的人会说，特里夫斯先生应该写写自己的回忆录。但特里夫斯先生可是心如明镜，他明白自己知道得太多了。
尽管已经引退多年，早就离开了那种唇枪舌剑的日子，不过在他自己的这个圈子里，整个英格兰还没有谁的意见能够像他的那样受到同行如此的推崇。无论什么时候，只要他那轻声细语而又一丝不苟的嗓音响起，总会引来全场一片毕恭毕敬的肃静。
此时此刻，他们谈论的话题是关于一桩当天刚刚在老贝利 [1] 审毕的广受议论的案子。
那是一桩谋杀案，在押的嫌犯被无罪释放了。现在这群人正忙于把这个案子再翻出来重审，同时各自发表着法律上的评判。
控方犯了“依赖一名证人”的错误——老德普利奇应该已经意识到他甩给了辩方一个多好的机会。而年轻的亚瑟则充分利用了那个女仆提供的证词。虽然本特莫尔在结案陈词中已经极其公正地把案情引向了正轨，但祸根其实早已埋下——陪审团相信了那个女孩说的话。陪审团就是这么古怪，你永远都猜不透他们会采信什么，不采信什么。不过一旦你让某个念头在他们的脑子里扎了根，任何人就再也别想让他们改变看法了。他们相信那个女孩所说的关于撬棍的事情是实话，就是这么回事。医学证据有点儿超出了他们的理解能力。所有那些艰深冗长的科学术语啊——搞科学的这帮家伙作为证人实在是糟糕透顶。即使面对一个简单问题也要支支吾吾半天，就不说是或不是；还总是说些“在某种情况下是可能发生的”之类模棱两可的话！
他们开始各抒己见，当谈话声变得零零星星，有一搭没一搭时，大家心里都产生了一种缺少点儿什么的感觉。一张张脸依次看向了特里夫斯先生。因为特里夫斯先生迄今为止还一言未发。渐渐地，大伙儿的期待之情越来越明显，他们都在等着这个最受推崇的同行发表一锤定音的高见呢。
特里夫斯先生向后靠在椅背上，心不在焉地擦拭着他的眼镜。这片古怪的沉寂令他猛然抬起头来。
“嗯？”他说，“怎么回事儿？你们在问我什么吗？”
年轻的刘易斯开口了。
“先生，我们刚才正在讨论拉蒙尼的那件案子。”
他满怀期待地停顿下来。
“是啊，是啊，”特里夫斯先生说，“我也在琢磨它呢。”
一阵满溢着敬意的肃静。
“但是我恐怕，”特里夫斯先生一边说着，一边继续擦着眼镜，“有些异想天开了。没错，异想天开。我猜这是上岁数的缘故吧。到了我这把年纪，只要你乐意，就可以拥有异想天开的权利啊。”
“是的，的确如此，先生。”年轻的刘易斯接口说道，但他看上去却是迷惑不解。
“我呢，”特里夫斯先生说道，“没怎么想你们提出的那些五花八门的法律问题——尽管它们挺有意思——假如裁决结果跟现在不一样的话，还真是会有很好的上诉理由呢。我倒是在想……不过我现在还不打算深谈。呃，就像我刚刚说的，我在想的不是那些法律问题，而是这个案子里的人。”
每个人看上去都大吃一惊。他们也考虑过这个案子里的人，不过却只是把他们当成证人，只是关心他们的证词可不可靠而已。甚至都没有人去大胆猜测一下嫌犯究竟是否像法庭宣布的那样清白无辜。
“你们也知道，人啊，”特里夫斯先生若有所思地说道，“高矮胖瘦，各式各样。有些人聪明睿智，而更多的人则没有脑子。他们从四面八方而来，兰开夏，苏格兰——那个餐馆老板是意大利人，而那个学校的女老师是从美国中西部的什么地方来的。所有人都被卷进了这件事当中，最后在十一月一个阴沉沉的日子里，大家在伦敦的法庭里聚齐了。每个人都在这里扮演了一个小角色。整件事情则是以谋杀案的审判收了场。”
他停顿了一下，手指轻巧而有节奏地敲着自己的膝盖。
“我喜欢好的侦探故事，”他说，“但是，要知道，它们打一开头就是错的！它们都是以谋杀为开端，而谋杀应该是结尾。故事其实在那之前早就开始了，有时甚至可以追溯到多年以前，是各种各样的原因和一系列的事件把某些人在某一天的某个时间带到了某个地点。就拿那个小女仆的证词来说吧，若非那个厨房女佣抢了她的男朋友，她不会在一气之下辞了那份工作跑去拉蒙尼家，自然也就不会成为辩方的主要证人。那个朱塞佩•安东内利，帮他的兄弟代职一个月。他那个兄弟真是有眼无珠，朱塞佩那双敏锐的眼睛看到的东西他就看不出来。要不是那个警员爱上了四十八号房的厨娘，他也不会那么晚了还在自己的辖区转悠……”
说到这儿，他轻轻点了点头。
“所有这些都汇集到特定的一点……然后，只待时机一到——便一拥而上！零点时分，关键时刻。没错，所有的一切都汇于零点……”
紧接着，他又重复了一句：“汇于零点……”
然后，他迅疾而轻微地哆嗦了一下。
“您觉得冷了吧，先生，来，离火近一点儿。”
“不用，不用，”特里夫斯先生说道，“只不过是打了个寒战而已。好啦，我必须得回家去了。”
他和蔼可亲地点了点头，然后缓步踱出了房间。
屋内一阵出奇的寂静，随后王室法律顾问鲁弗斯•洛德议论说可怜的老特里夫斯真是上年纪了。
威廉•克里弗爵士说道：
“一个敏锐的头脑——极其敏锐——只是岁月终究不饶人啊。”
“心脏也不太行了，”洛德说，“我相信他随时都有可能倒地不起。”
“他可保养得相当好。”年轻的刘易斯说道。
也就在此刻，特里夫斯先生正小心翼翼地坐进他那辆行驶平稳的戴姆勒轿车。车子把他送到了一所坐落在一个安静街区的宅子。一名殷勤的贴身男管家帮助他脱掉外套。特里夫斯先生走进了燃着炉火的书房。他的卧室就在另一边，出于对心脏情况的考虑，他从来不上楼。
他在炉火前坐下来，把信件拿到跟前。
他的心思还依然停留在刚才在俱乐部时他所说的那番异想天开的话上。
“就算是此时，”特里夫斯先生暗自思忖道，“也会有某出戏——某件即将发生的谋杀案——正在酝酿之中呢。要是让我来写一个引人入胜的血腥犯罪故事的话，我就会从一个老年绅士坐在炉火前，拆开他的信开始写起。让他在浑然不觉之中——走向零点……”
他撕开了一个信封，漫不经心地低头看着他从里面抽出来的那张信纸。
突然之间，他的神情大变，从浪漫的想象一下回到了现实当中。
“天哪，”特里夫斯先生说道，“这可太讨厌了！真是，这太让人心烦了。过去这么多年了！这会改变我的所有计划的。”
[1]位于英国伦敦的中央刑事法庭。
"Open the Door and Here Are the People" January 11th.
"Open the Door and Here Are the People"
January 11th.
The man in the hospital bed shifted his body slightly and stifled a groan.
The nurse in charge of the ward got up from her table and came down to him. She shifted his pillows and moved him into a more comfortable position.
Angus MacWhirter only gave a grunt by way of thanks. He was in a state of seething rebellion and bitterness.
By this time it ought all to have been over. He ought to have been out of it all! Curse that damned ridiculous tree growing out of the cliff! Curse those officious sweethearts who braved the cold of a winter's night to keep a tryst on the cliff edge.
But for them (and the tree!) it would have been over - a plunge into the deep icy water, a brief struggle perhaps, and then oblivion - the end of a misused, useless, unprofitable life.
And now where was he? Lying ridiculously in a hospital bed with a broken shoulder and with the prospect of being hauled up in a police court for the crime of trying to take his own life.
Curse it, it was his own life, wasn't it?
And if he had succeeded in the job, they would have buried him piously as of unsound mind!
Unsound mind, indeed! He'd never been saner! And to commit suicide was the most logical and sensible thing that could be done by a man in his position.
Completely down and out, with his health permanently affected, with a wife who had left him for another man. Without a job, without affection, without money, health or hope, surely to end it all was the only possible solution?
And now here he was in this ridiculous plight. He would shortly be admonished by a sanctimonious magistrate for doing the common-sense thing with a commodity which belonged to him and to him only - his life.
He snorted with anger. A wave of fever passed over him.
The nurse was beside him again. She was young, red-haired, with a kindly, rather vacant face.
"Are you in much pain?"
"No, I'm not."
"I'll give you something to make you sleep."
"You'll do nothing of the sort."
"But -"
"Do you think I can't bear a bit of pain and sleeplessness?"She smiled in a gentle, slightly superior way.
"Doctor said you could have something."
"I don't care what doctor said."
She straightened the covers and set a glass of lemonade a little nearer to him. He said, slightly ashamed of himself: "Sorry if I was rude.""Oh, that's all right."
It annoyed him that she was so completely undisturbed by his bad temper. Nothing like that could penetrate her nurse's armour of indulgent indifference. He was a patient - not a man.
He said: "Damned interference - all this damned interference ..."She said reprovingly: "Now, now, that isn't very nice.""Nice?" he demanded. "Nice? My God!"
She said calmly: "You'll feel better in the morning."He swallowed. "You nurses. You nurses! You're inhuman, that's what you are!""We know what's best for you, you see."
"That's what's so infuriating! About you. About a hospital. About the world. Continual interference! Knowing what's best for other people. I tried to kill myself. You know that, don't you?"She nodded.
"Nobody's business but mine whether I threw myself off a bloody cliff or not. I'd finished with life. I was down and out!"She made a little clicking noise with her tongue. It indicated abstract sympathy. He was a patient. She was soothing him by letting him blow off steam.
"Why shouldn't I kill myself if I want to?" he demanded. She replied to that quite seriously. "Because it's wrong."She looked at him doubtfully. She was not disturbed in her own belief, but she was much too inarticulate to explain her reaction.
"Well -I mean - it's wicked to kill yourself. You've got to go on living whether you like it or not.""Why have you?"
"Well, there are other people to consider, aren't there?""Not in my case. There's not a soul in the world who'd be the worse for my passing on.""Haven't you got any relations? No mother or sisters or anything?""No. I had a wife once, but she left me - quite right, too! She saw I was no good.""But you've got friends, surely?"
"No, I haven't. I'm not a friendly sort of man. Look here, nurse, I'll tell you something. I was a happy sort of chap once. Had a good job and a good-looking wife. There was a car accident. My boss was driving the car and I was in it. He wanted me to say he was driving under thirty at the time of the accident. He wasn't. He was driving nearer fifty. Nobody was killed, nothing like that, he just wanted to be in the right for the insurance people. Well, I wouldn't say what he wanted. It was a lie. I don't tell lies."The nurse said: "Well, I think you were quite right. Quite right.""You do, do you? That pig-headedness of mine cost me my job. My boss was sore. He saw to it that I didn't get another. My wife got fed up seeing me much about unable to get anything to do. She went off with a man who had been my friend. He was doing well and going up in the world. I drifted along, going steadily down. I took to drinking a bit. That didn't help me to hold down jobs. Finally I came down to hauling - strained my inside - the doctor told me I'd never be strong again. Well, there wasn't much to live for then. Easiest way, and the cleanest way, was to go right out. My life was no good to myself or anyone else."The little nurse murmured: "You don't know that."He laughed. He was better-tempered already. Her naive obstinacy amused him.
"My dear girl, what use am I to anybody?"
She said confusedly: "You don't know. You may be - some day -""Some day? There won't be any some day. Next time I shall make sure."She shook her head decidedly.
"Oh, no," she said. "You won't kill yourself now." "Why not?" "They never do."He stared at her. "They never do." He was one of a class of would-be suicides. Opening his mouth to protest energetically, his innate honesty suddenly stopped him.
Would he do it again? Did he really mean to do it?
He knew suddenly that he didn't. For no reason. Perhaps the right reason was the one she had given out of her specialised knowledge. Suicides didn't do it again.
All the more he felt determined to force an admission from her on the ethical side.
"At any rate, I've got a right to do what I like with my own life.""No - no, you haven't."
"But why not, my dear girl, why?"
She flushed. She said, her fingers playing with the little gold cross that hung round her neck: "You don't understand. God may need you."He stared - taken aback. He did not want to upset her child-like faith. He said mockingly: "I suppose that one day I may stop a runaway horse and save a golden-haired child from death - eh? Is that it?"She shook her head. She said with vehemence and trying to express what was so vivid in her mind and so halting on her tongue: "It may be just by being somewhere - not doing anything - just by being at a certain place at a certain time - oh, I can't say what I mean, but you might just - just walk along a street some day and just by doing that accomplish something terribly important -perhaps even without knowing what it was."The red-haired little nurse came from the west coast of Scotland and some of her family had "the sight."Perhaps, dimly, she saw a picture of a man walking up a road on a night in September and thereby saving a human being from a terrible death ...
“一开门，所有的人都在那里” 一月十一日
　　“一开门，所有的人都在那里”
　　一月十一日
　　躺在医院病床上的男人轻轻挪动了一下身子，闷哼了一声。
　　负责这个病房的护士从她的桌后站起身，向他走来。她调整了一下他的枕头，并帮他摆好一个更舒服的姿势。
　　安格斯•麦克沃特只能咕哝一声来表达谢意。
　　他的内心正承受着反抗和怨愤情绪的煎熬。
　　本来此时此刻一切都应该结束了的。他也本该得到了解脱！可都怪那棵从悬崖峭壁上长出来的该死的蠢树！还有那些全然不惧冬夜严寒，非要跑到悬崖边上去约会的多管闲事的情侣！
　　要是没有他们（以及那棵树！）的话，这一切早就已经结束了--一猛子扎进深深的冰水中，兴许还会扑腾几下，然后便陷入永眠--一条百无一用的生命就此终结。
　　而现在他在哪儿？拖着一个摔坏了的肩膀荒唐可笑地躺在医院的病床上，还得等着因为试图自杀而接受治安法庭的传讯。
　　命是他自己的，难道不是吗？
　　而且如果他自杀成功了，他们估计也会把他看成一个精神失常的人，假装虔诚地给他下葬的。
　　精神失常，真要命！他的头脑从来没有这么清醒过！对于一个处于他这种境地的人来说，自杀才是最合逻辑最明智的选择。
　　穷困潦倒到了极点，疾病缠身无望恢复，老婆跟着别的男人跑了。没有工作，无人关爱，金钱、健康和希望一样儿都不剩，自行了断无疑是唯一行得通的解决方法了吧？
　　而此时，他却身陷这种让人啼笑皆非的窘境。用不了多久他就得接受一个道貌岸然的治安法官的训诫，只因为他做了这么一件于自己有益并且顺理成章的事儿，要知道，这条命可是属于他的，而且只是属于他的啊。
　　他生气地抽了抽鼻子，一股热浪涌遍全身。
　　护士又出现在他的床边。
　　她很年轻，一头红发，长着一张和蔼亲切中带着点儿茫然的脸。“您觉得很疼吗？”
　　“不，我不疼。”
　　“我给您一些能帮您入睡的药吧。”
　　“你什么药都别给我。”
　　“可是--”
　　“你觉得我就忍受不了这一点点的疼痛和失眠吗？”
　　她莞尔一笑，温柔中带有几分傲气。
　　“医生说您可以吃点儿东西了。”
　　“我不关心医生说什么。”
　　她整了整他的被子，把一杯柠檬水拿得离他近了些。他有点儿不好意思地说道：
　　“抱歉，我有点儿粗鲁。”
　　“噢，没什么的。”
　　对于他的臭脾气她竟然丝毫不为所动，这让他有些生气。即便这么闹也无法穿透这个护士身上那层满布着恣意冷漠的铠甲。在她眼里，他只是个病人--而非一个男人。
　　他说：“多管闲事--全都是多管闲事……”
　　她用责备的口吻说道：
　　“哎，哎，这么说可就不太合适了。”
　　“合适？”他反问道，“合适？我的老天爷啊。”
　　她平静地说道：“到明天早上您就会觉得好些了。”
　　他咽了口唾沫。
　　“你们这帮护士。你们这帮护士啊！你们根本就是不通人情！”
　　“可您看，我们知道什么对您最好。”
　　“这才是最可气的地方呢！包括你、医院，还有这个世界，不停地多管闲事！以为自己知道什么对别人最好。我想要自杀，你明白吗，啊？”
　　她点点头。
　　“我要不要从那个悬崖上跳下去是我自己的选择，关别人屁事。我已经活腻味了！”
　　她轻轻地啧啧几声，表示出某种抽象的同情。他是个病人，而她正通过让他充分发泄来安抚他。
　　“要是我想的话，凭什么不能自杀？”他问道。
　　她非常严肃地回答说：
　　“因为那是不对的。”
　　“为什么不对？”
　　她带着几分疑惑瞅着他。她自身的信念倒是没有发生动摇，只是由于拙于言辞，她实在解释不清自己对此的看法。
　　“呃……我是说……自杀是没有道理的。不管你喜不喜欢，你都必须活下去。”
　　“凭什么？”
　　“嗯，总得考虑考虑其他人吧，不是吗？”
　　“对我来说用不着。这个世界上没有一个人会因为我死了而受损丝毫。”
　　“您难道没有亲属吗？没有妈妈或者姐妹之类的？”
　　“没有。我曾经有个老婆，但她离开了我--离开得好极了啊！在她眼里我一无是处。”
　　“那你肯定也有些朋友吧？”
　　“不，我没有。我不是那种好打交道的人。听好了，护士小姐，我要告诉你一些事情。
　　我也曾经是个乐天派，有一份好工作，还有个漂亮的老婆。后来出了一起车祸，我老板开的车，而我坐在车里。他想让我说车祸发生时他的驾驶速度没超过三十迈，其实不然，他当时开得都快五十迈了。车祸中没死人，没这方面的问题，他只不过是想跟保险公司证明自己没什么错误。呃，我不愿意按他的要求去说，那是个谎言，而我从不撒谎。”
　　护士说：“嗯，我觉得你做得对，完全正确。”
　　“你真这么想？可结果我这个牛脾气害我丢了饭碗。我的老板发怒了，他还阻止我找别的工作。我老婆烦我总是闲待着找不着活儿干，于是就跟我曾经的一个朋友跑了。他干得不赖，算是飞黄腾达了。而我只是得过且过，日子每况愈下。后来我又养成了喝点儿小酒的习惯，可那也没法帮我保住自己的饭碗。到最后，我的身体完蛋了--五脏六腑都喝伤了--医生告诉我永远都好不了了。这下子就真的没什么活头儿了。最简单也最利落的做法就是一死了之吧。我的命对我自己或者任何人来说都一无是处。”
　　小护士低声说道：“那可不好说。”
　　他笑了起来。这会儿他的脾气已经好些了。她那种有些天真的固执劲儿让他觉得挺有意思。
　　“我的好姑娘，我对别人还能有什么用啊？”
　　她语无伦次地说道：“你又不知道。你也许……某一天……”
　　“某一天？不会有这么一天了。下次我会确保十拿九稳的。”
　　她坚决地摇了摇头。
　　“哦，不，”她说，“现在你不会再自杀了。”
　　“为什么不会？”
　　“他们都不会的。”
　　他目不转睛地看着她。“他们都不会的。”他现在是想要自杀的那帮人中的一个。就在他都已经准备要开口反驳的时候，与生俱来的诚实本性阻止了他。
　　他还会再自杀一次吗？他真的打算再试一回吗？
　　突然之间，他明白他不会了。没有什么理由。或许刚才她从专业的角度说出的那点就算是恰当的理由：一个人不会重复自杀。
　　不过这样一来，他就更加下定决心非要让她从道德伦理的角度认可他的观点。
　　“不管怎么说，我自己的生命，我有权利想怎么处置就怎么处置。”
　　“不，不--你没有这个权利。”
　　“为什么没有？我的好姑娘，为什么？”
　　她满脸通红，手里一边摆弄着挂在脖子上那个小小的金色十字架一边说道：
　　“你不明白。上帝也许会需要你。”
　　他吃了一惊，瞪大双眼。他真不想给这种孩子气的信念泼冷水，于是取笑着说道：
　　“我猜没准儿哪天我会拦下一匹脱缰的惊马，救下马上的金发小孩儿--嗯？是这个意思吗？”
　　她摇摇头，为了试图表达她那些心里明白却又解释不清的想法，她急切地开口说道：
　　“也许只是在某个地方……什么都不用做……只是在某个时间，身处某个地方……噢，我说不清楚，但你可能只是……只是某一天走在一条街上，仅仅这样就相当于完成了一件极其重要的事情--也许你自己甚至都不知道那究竟是什么。”
　　这个红发的小护士来自苏格兰的西海岸，她家族中的某些成员拥有“洞察能力”。
　　或许，她依稀看到了这样一幅景象：在九月的一个夜晚，一个男人走在一条路上，而由此避免了另一个人的惨死……
February 14th.
　　February 14th.
　　There was only one person in the room and the only sound to be heard was the scratching of that person's pen as it traced line after line across the paper.
　　There was no one to read the words that were being traced. If there had been, they would hardly have believed their eyes. For what was being written was a clear, carefully detailed project for murder.
　　There are times when a body is conscious of a mind controlling it - when it bows obedient to that alien something that controls its actions. There are other times when a mind is conscious of owning and controlling a body and accomplishing its purpose by using that body.
　　The figure sitting writing was in the last-named state. It was a mind, a cool, controlled intelligence. This mind had only one thought and one purpose - the destruction of another human being. To the end that this purpose might be accomplished, the scheme was being worked out meticulously on paper. Every eventuality, every possibility was being taken into account. The thing had got to be absolutely fool-proof. The scheme, like all good schemes, not absolutely cut and dried. There were certain actions at certain points. Moreover, since the mind was intelligent, it realised that there must be intelligent provision left for the unforeseen. But the main lines were clear and had been closely tested. The time, the place, the method, the victim! ...
　　The figure raised its head. With its hand, it picked up the sheets of paper and read them carefully through. Yes, the thing was crystal clear.
　　Across the serious face a smile came. It was a smile that was not quite sane. The figure drew a deep breath.
　　As man was made in the image of his Maker, so there was now a terrible travesty of a creator's joy.
　　Yes, everything planned - everyone's reaction foretold and allowed for, the good and evil in everybody played upon and brought into harmony with one evil design.
　　There was one thing lacking still...
　　With a smile the writer traced a date - a date in September.
　　Then, with a laugh, the paper was torn in pieces and the pieces carried across the room and put into the heart of the glowing fire. There was no carelessness. Every single piece was consumed and destroyed. The plan was now only existent in the brain of its creator.
二月十四日
　　二月十四日
　　房间里只有一个人，唯一能听到的声音就是这个人手中的钢笔从纸上一行行划过时的沙沙声。
　　没有人会看到纸上所写的内容。如果看到了，他们也很难相信自己的眼睛，因为那上面写的是一份清晰缜密的谋杀计划。
　　有时候躯体会意识到控制着它的头脑——那是在它顺从地听命于这个控制着它活动的异己之物的时候。另一些时候，头脑则会意识到它拥有并且控制着一副躯体，从而利用这个身体来达到它的目的。
　　此时坐在那儿写东西的身影正处于后一种状态之中。这是个充满智慧的头脑，沉着冷静，掌控自如。这个头脑只有一个想法，一个目的——要置另一个人于死地。为了最终达到这个目的，一个阴谋正在纸面上精心筹划。每一种偶然情况，每一种可能性都被考虑在内。这件事必须确保万无一失。这个计划就像所有高明的计划一样，绝对不能机械刻板，在某些细节上必须有一些替代方案。而且，由于这个头脑很精明，它还知道必须要准备好相应精明的预案来应对意外情况的发生。但是阴谋的主线始终明确，并且已经经过了严密的验证。时间、地点、方法、谋杀对象……
　　这个身影抬起头来，用手拿起那几张纸，又仔细地通读了一遍。嗯，整件事情一清二楚了。
　　这张严肃的脸上掠过了一抹微笑。那是一抹有点癫狂的微笑。接着，这个人影深深地吸了一口气。
　　正如人是由上帝按照自己的形象创造出来的一样，眼前这个人也正在拙劣地模仿着造物主的那种喜悦之情。
　　是的，一切尽在计划之中——每个人的反应都有所预期和估计，每个人的善与恶都加以利用，使它们能够与这个邪恶的目的步调一致。
　　还缺少一样东西……
　　写字的这个人面带微笑，在纸上写下了一个日期——那是九月的一天。
　　随后，伴着一阵大笑，纸张被撕得粉碎，碎片被拿在手里穿过房间，丢进了熊熊烈焰当中。没有一丝疏忽。每一个碎片都被烧成了灰烬。现在，这个计划就只存在于它的制订者的头脑中了。
March 8th.
　　March 8th.
　　Superintendent Battle was sitting at the breakfast table. His jaw was set in a truculent fashion and he was reading, slowly and carefully, a letter that his wife had just tearfully handed to him. There was no expression visible on his face, for his face never did register any expression. It had the aspect of a face carved out of wood. It was solid and durable and, in some way, impressive. Superintendent Battle had never suggested brilliance; he was, definitely, not a brilliant man, but he had some other quality, difficult to define, that was nevertheless forceful.
　　"I can't believe it," said Mrs. Battle, sobbing. "Sylvia!"Sylvia was the youngest of Superintendent and Mrs. Battle's five children. She was sixteen and at school near Maidstone.
　　The letter was from Miss Amphrey, headmistress of the school in question. It was a clear, kindly and extremely tactful letter. It set out, in black and white, that various small thefts had been puzzling the school authorities for some time, that the matter had been at last cleared up, that Sylvia Battle had confessed, and that Miss Amphrey would like to see Mr. and Mrs. Battle at the earliest possible opportunity "to discuss the position."Superintendent Battle folded up the letter, put it in his pocket, and said: "You leave this to me, Mary."He got up, walked round the table, patted her on the cheek and said, "Don't worry, dear, it will be all right."He went from the room, leaving comfort and reassurance behind him.
　　That afternoon, in Miss Amphrey's modern and individualistic drawing-room, Superintendent Battle sat very squarely on his chair, his large wooden hands on his knees, confronting Miss Amphrey, and managing to look, far more than usual, every inch a policeman.
　　Miss Amphrey was a very successful headmistress. She had personality - a great deal of personality, she was enlightened and up to date, and she combined discipline with modern ideas of self-determination.
　　Her room was representative of the spirit of Meadway. Everything was of a cool oatmeal colour - there were big jars of daffodils and bowls of tulips and hyacinths. One or two good copies of the antique Greek, two pieces of advanced modern sculpture, two Italian primitives on the walls. In the midst of all this, Miss Amphrey herself, dressed in a deep shade of blue, with an eager face suggestive of a conscientious greyhound, and clear blue eyes looking serious through thick lenses.
　　"The important thing," she was saying in her clear, well-modulated voice, "is that this should be taken the right way. It is the girl herself we have to think of, Mr. Battle. Sylvia herself! It is most important - most important - that her life should not be crippled in any way. She must not be made to assume a burden of guilt -blame must be very, very sparingly meted out, if at all. We must arrive at the reason behind these quite trivial pilferings. A sense of inferiority, perhaps? She is not good at games, you know - an obscure wish to shine in a different sphere -the desire to assert her ego? We must be very, very careful. That is why I wanted to see you alone first - to impress upon you to be very, very careful with Sylvia. I repeat again, it's very important to get at what's behind this.""That, Miss Amphrey," said Superintendent Battle, "is why I have come down."His voice was quiet, his face unemotional, his eyes surveyed the schoolmistress appraisingly.
　　"I have been very gentle with her," said Miss Amphrey.
　　Battle said laconically. "Good for you, M'am.""You see, I really love and understand these young things."Battle did not reply directly. He said: "I'd like to see my girl now, if you don't mind. Miss Amphrey."With renewed emphasis Miss Amphrey admonished him to be careful - to go slow - not to antagonise a child just budding into womanhood. Superintendent Battle showed no signs of impatience. He just looked blank.
　　She took him at last to her study. They passed one or two girls in the passages. They stood politely to attention, but their eyes were full of curiosity. Having ushered Battle into a small room, not quite so redolent of personality as the one downstairs, Miss Amphrey withdrew and said she would send Sylvia to him.
　　Just as she was leaving the room. Battle stopped her.
　　"One minute, M'am; how did you come to pitch upon Sylvia as the one responsible for these - er - leakages?""My methods, Mr. Battle, were psychological."Miss Amphrey spoke with dignity.
　　"Psychological? H'm. What about the evidence, Miss Amphrey?""Yes, yes, I quite understand, Mr. Battle - you would feel that way. Your - er -profession steps in. But psychology is beginning to be recognised in criminology. I can assure you that there is no mistake - Sylvia freely admits the whole thing."Battle nodded.
　　"Yes, yes -I know that. I was just asking how you came to pitch upon her to begin with.""Well, Mr. Battle, this business of things being taken out of the girls' lockers was on the increase. I called the school together and told them the facts. At the same time, I studied their faces unobtrusively. Sylvia's expression struck me at once. It was guilty - confused. I knew at that moment who was responsible. I wanted, not to confront her with her guilt, but to get her to admit it herself. I set a little test for her - a word test association."Battle nodded to show he understood.
　　"And finally the child admitted it all."
　　Her father said: "I see."
　　Miss Amphrey hesitated a minute, then went out.
　　Battle was standing looking out of the window when the door opened again. He turned round slowly and looked at his daughter.
　　Sylvia stood just inside the door, which she had closed behind her. She was tall, dark, angular. Her face was sullen and bore marks of tears. She said timidly rather than defiantly: "Well, here I am."Battle looked at her thoughtfully for a minute or two.
　　He sighed.
　　"I should never have sent you to this place," he said. "That woman's a fool."Sylvia lost sight of her own problems in sheer amazement.
　　"Miss Amphrey? Oh, but she's wonderful. We all think so.""H'm," said Battle. "Can't be quite a fool, then, if she sells the idea of herself as well as that. All the same, Meadway wasn't the place for you - although I don't know - this might have happened anywhere."Sylvia twisted her hands together. She looked down. She said: "I'm - I'm sorry, father. I really am.""So you should be," said Battle shortly. "Come here."She came slowly and unwillingly across the room to him. He took her chin in his great square hand and looked closely into her face.
　　"Been through a good deal, haven't you?" he said gently. Tears started into her eyes.
　　Battle said slowly: "You see, Sylvia, I've known all along with you that there was something. Most people have got a weakness of some kind or another. Usually it's plain enough. You can see when a child's greedy, or bad-tempered, or got a streak of the bully in him. You were a good child, very quiet - very sweet-tempered - no trouble in any way - and sometimes I've worried. Because if there's a flaw you don't see, sometimes it wrecks the whole show when the article is tried out.""Like me!" said Sylvia.
　　"Yes, like you. You've cracked under strain - and in a damned queer way, too. It's a way, oddly enough, I've never come across before."The girl said suddenly and scornfully: "I should think you'd come across thieves often enough!""Oh, yes -I know all about them. And that's why, my dear - not because I'm your father (fathers don't know much about their children), but because I'm a policeman I know well enough you're not a thief! You never took a thing in this place. Thieves are of two kinds, the kind that yields to sudden and overwhelming temptation (and that happens damned seldom - it's amazing what temptation the ordinary normal honest human being can withstand) - and there's the kind that just takes what doesn't belong to them almost as a matter of course. You don't belong to either type. You're not a thief. You're a very unusual type of liar."Sylvia began, "But -" He swept on.
　　"You've admitted it all? Oh, yes, I know that. There was a Saint once - went out with bread for the poor. Husband didn't like it. Met her and asked what there was in her basket. She lost her nerve and said it was roses - he tore open her basket and roses it was - a miracle! Now, if you'd been Saint Elizabeth and were out with a basket of roses, and your husband had come along and asked you what you'd got, you'd have lost your nerve and said, 'Bread.'"He paused and then said gently: "That's how it happened, isn't it?" There was a longer pause and then the girl suddenly bent her head. Battle said: "Tell me, child. What happened exactly?""She had us all up. Made a speech. And I saw her eyes on me and I knew she thought it was me! I felt myself getting red - and I saw some of the girls looking at me. It was awful. And then the others began looking at me and whispering in corners. I could see they all thought so. And then the Amp had me up here with some of the others one evening and we played a sort of word-game - she said words and we gave answers -"Battle gave a disgusted grunt.
　　"And I could see what it meant - and - and I sort of got paralysed. I tried not to give the wrong word -I tried to think of things quite outside - like squirrels or flowers - and the Amp was there watching me with eyes like gimlets - you know, sort of boring inside one. And after that - oh, it got worse and worse, and one day the Amp talked to me quite kindly and so - so understandingly - and - and I broke down and said I had done it - and, oh! Daddy, the relief!"Battle was stroking his chin.
　　"I see."
　　"You do understand?"
　　"No, Sylvia, I don't understand, because I'm not made that way. If anyone tried to make me say I'd done something I hadn't I'd feel more like giving them a sock on the jaw. But I see how it came about in your case - and that gimlet-eyed Amp of yours has had as pretty an example of unusual psychology shoved under her nose as any half-baked exponent of misunderstood theories could ask for. The thing to do now is to clear up this mess. Where's Miss Amphrey?"Miss Amphrey was hovering tactfully near at hand. Her sympathetic smile froze on her face as Superintendent Battle said bluntly: "In justice to my daughter, I must ask that you call in your local police over this.""But, Mr. Battle, Sylvia herself -"
　　"Sylvia has never touched a thing that didn't belong to her in this place.""I quite understand that, as a father -"
　　"I'm not talking as a father, but as a policeman. Get the police to give you a hand over this. They'll be discreet. You'll find the things hidden away somewhere and the right set of fingerprints on them, I expect. Petty pilferers don't think of wearing gloves. I'm taking my daughter away with me now. If the police find evidence - real evidence - to connect her with the thefts, I'm prepared for her to appear in court and take what's coming to her, but I'm not afraid."As he drove out of the gate with Sylvia beside him some five minutes later, he asked: "Who's a girl with fair hair, rather fuzzy, very pink cheeks and a spot on her chin, blue eyes far apart? I passed her in the passage.""That sounds like Olive Parsons."
　　"Ah, well, I shouldn't be surprised if she were the one.""Did she look frightened?"
　　"No, looked smug! Calm, smug look I've seen in the police court hundreds of times! I'd bet good money she's the thief - but you won't find her confessing -not much!"Sylvia said with a sigh: "It's like coming out of a bad dream. Oh, Daddy, I am sorry! Oh, I am sorry! How could I be such a fool, such an utter fool? I do feel awful about it.""Ah well," said Superintendent Battle, patting her on the arm with a hand he disengaged from the wheel, and uttering one of his pet forms of trite consolation. "Don't you worry. These things are sent to try us. Yes, these things are sent to try us. At least, I suppose so. I don't see what else they can be sent for ..."
三月八日
　　三月八日
　　巴特尔警司正坐在早餐桌旁，他在缓慢而又仔细地读着一封信，那是他太太刚刚眼泪汪汪地递给他的。从他的脸上看不出任何表情，因为他向来喜怒不形于色。这张脸的样子就像是用木头雕刻出来的一般，看上去就耐久可靠，从某种意义上来说让人过目不忘。巴特尔警司从来不会使人联想到才华横溢这个词，无疑他并不是个聪慧过人的人，然而他身上具有某些其他的特质，难以形容，却又强劲有力。
　　“我真没法相信，”巴特尔太太一边啜泣一边说道，“西尔维娅啊！”
　　西尔维娅是巴特尔警司和他太太的五个孩子中最小的一个。她今年十六岁，在梅德斯通 [1] 附近的学校上学。
　　信是那所学校的女校长安姆弗雷小姐写来的。这是一封意思明确，态度恳切，措辞极有分寸的信。信上白纸黑字地写着近一段时间以来，一系列的小偷小摸事件让校方伤透了脑筋，事情最后终于水落石出，西尔维娅•巴特尔已经坦白交代，安姆弗雷小姐希望尽早见到巴特尔先生和太太，以便“商讨一下这种状况”。
　　巴特尔警司把信叠好，放进自己的口袋，说道：“这件事交给我吧，玛丽。”
　　他站起身，绕过桌子，轻轻拍了拍她的脸颊说：“别担心，亲爱的，不会有事儿的。”
　　留下安慰和保证以后，他走出了屋子。
　　当天下午，巴特尔警司就来到了安姆弗雷小姐那间既有现代感又充满个人特色的会客室里，他正襟危坐，一双粗笨的大手放在膝盖上，面对着安姆弗雷小姐，想方设法让自己比平时看起来更像一个警察。
　　安姆弗雷小姐是一位颇有建树的校长。她极有个性——表现在很多方面，她思想开明，与时俱进，把遵守纪律和现代的自觉观念结合在了一起。
　　她的房间可以看作是米德威校风的代表。每一件东西都是清爽的燕麦色——大的广口花瓶里插着黄水仙，花盆里种的是郁金香和风信子。有一两件漂亮的希腊古董仿制品，两座高级的现代雕塑，墙上挂着两幅早期的意大利画作。在这一切的包围之中，安姆弗雷小姐自己则一袭深蓝套装，脸上的热切让人联想到认真负责的灵缇犬，厚厚的镜片后面是一双看起来很严肃的清澈的蓝眼睛。
　　“重要的是，”她以清晰悦耳的嗓音说道，“这件事应该得到妥善的处理。我们必须要顾及姑娘本人，巴特尔先生。西尔维娅她自己！最重要的是——她的人生不应该以任何方式遭到破坏。绝不能让她承担负罪感，就算要责备她的话，也得非常非常谨慎。我们必须要弄清楚这些小偷小摸行为背后的原因。也许是一种自卑情绪在作祟？你知道，她不是特别擅长运动，或许她会有一种想在其他领域里出出风头的朦胧愿望，那种想要宣扬自我的渴望？我们必须要非常非常小心。这也是为什么我想先单独见见你的原因——我得让你记住，对待西尔维娅要非常非常谨慎。我再重复一遍，找到这一系列举动背后的原因极其重要。”
　　“安姆弗雷小姐，”巴特尔警司说道，“这也是我来这里的目的。”
　　他的声音很平静，脸上不露声色，眼睛仔细地打量着女校长。
　　“我一直对她很和蔼。”安姆弗雷小姐说。
　　巴特尔简洁地应道：
　　“谢谢您，校长。”
　　“要知道，我是真心喜爱并且理解这些小家伙们的。”
　　巴特尔并没有直接回应。他说：
　　“如果你不介意的话，安姆弗雷小姐，我现在想要见见我女儿。”
　　安姆弗雷小姐再一次告诫他，向他强调要小心谨慎，慢慢来，不要招惹一个正在成长为女人的女孩的反感。
　　巴特尔警司没有表现出半点不耐烦。他只是看起来面无表情。
　　最终她把他带到了书房。在过道里，他们从一两个女孩身边经过。她们毕恭毕敬地立正站好，眼睛里却满是好奇。在把巴特尔领进一间不像楼下那间彰显个性的小房间之后，安姆弗雷小姐说她要去把西尔维娅叫来，然后转身准备离开。
　　就在她将要走出房间的时候，巴特尔叫住了她。
　　“稍等一下，小姐，你是怎么认定西尔维娅该为这些……呃……娄子负责的呢？”
　　“我用的是心理学方法，巴特尔先生。”
　　安姆弗雷小姐威严十足地说道。
　　“心理学？嗯，那证据呢，安姆弗雷小姐？”
　　“没错，没错，巴特尔先生，我相当理解——你会这么想的。这是因为你的……呃……职业缘故吧。不过，心理学已经开始在犯罪学领域里得到了认可。我可以向你保证没有搞错，是西尔维娅自愿地承认了所有事情。”
　　“是的，是的，这个我知道。我只是问你从一开始怎么就认定她了呢？”
　　“是这样的，巴特尔先生，姑娘们柜子里丢东西的事情愈演愈烈，于是我把全校的人都召集在一起，告诉了她们这个事实。与此同时，我不声不响地观察她们的脸。西尔维娅的表情立即引起了我的注意。那是一种愧疚——一种困惑。我当时就知道是谁干的了。我不想就这件事跟她对质，而是想让她自己坦白。我给她安排了一个小小的试验——一次词语联想测试。”
　　巴特尔点点头表示他明白这是什么意思。
　　“最后这孩子全都承认了。”
　　这位父亲说：“我懂了。”
　　安姆弗雷小姐犹豫了片刻，随后走出了房间。
　　房门再次打开的时候，巴特尔正站在那里望着窗外。
　　他慢慢回过身来，看着他的女儿。
　　西尔维娅就站在门里，门已经在她身后关上了。她的身材高挑，肤色黝黑，骨瘦如柴，一副闷闷不乐的样子，脸上还挂着泪痕。她用羞怯而非挑衅的口吻开口说道：
　　“嗯，我来了。”
　　巴特尔沉思着看了她一小会儿，然后叹了口气。
　　“我真不该送你到这个地方来，”他说，“那女人就是个白痴。”
　　西尔维娅一时感到很错愕，甚至都忘记了自己的问题。
　　“安姆弗雷小姐吗？噢，可她人可好了，我们都这么觉得。”
　　“嗯，”巴特尔说道，“要是她能像那样给别人灌输她自己的想法的话，那就还不算太傻。话虽这么说，米德威这个地方还是不适合你——尽管我事先也不知道——这种事在哪儿都有可能发生。”
　　西尔维娅双手交握，目光低垂，说道：
　　“我……我很抱歉，爸爸，我真的很抱歉。”
　　“你是该觉得抱歉，”巴特尔气哼哼地说道，“过来。”
　　她慢吞吞地穿过房间，带着几分不情愿向他走过去。他用那双坚实的大手托起了她的下巴，紧盯着她的脸。
　　“走投无路了，是吧？”他和蔼地说。
　　泪水涌上了她的眼眶。
　　巴特尔缓缓地说道：
　　“你看，西尔维娅，我一直都很了解你，这里面一定有隐情。绝大多数人都会有这样或那样的弱点。这在通常情况下是显而易见的。比如你能够看得出来一个孩子贪吃、坏脾气或者爱欺负人这类的毛病。而你是个乖孩子，非常文静……性情温和……什么麻烦都不惹……有时候这倒会让我担心。因为假如有这样一个你没发现的缺点，那么当它显现出来的时候可能就会让你不知所措。”
　　“像我一样！”西尔维娅说。
　　“没错，就像你。在重压之下你垮掉了——而且还是以一种非常奇怪的方式，这种方式奇怪到我以前从来没有见过。”
　　女孩突然不屑地说了一句：
　　“我还以为你见过的小偷足够多呢！”
　　“噢，当然了，我对他们了如指掌。这也正是为什么我很清楚你不是小偷，亲爱的——并非因为我是你父亲（父亲们对他们的孩子可没有那么了解），而是因为我是个警察。你从来没在这里偷过任何东西。小偷有两类，有一类是因为抵抗不了那种突如其来的强大诱惑（而这种情况很少见——所以说一般诚实的正常人能够抗拒多么大的诱惑）；另一类则差不多是把顺手牵羊当成了理所当然的事情。你不属于任何一种。你不是个小偷，而是个非同寻常的说谎者。”
　　西尔维娅开口道：“可是——”
　　他继续说下去。
　　“你已经全都承认了吧？是啊，我都知道了。从前有一个女圣徒，带着准备分给穷人的面包出门。她丈夫不乐意她这么做，碰见她就问篮子里装的是什么。她慌里慌张地说里面是玫瑰花——结果他揭开篮子一看，还真是玫瑰花——奇迹啊！现在如果你是圣伊丽莎白，带着一篮子玫瑰花出门去，碰见你丈夫问你拿的是什么的话，你肯定会惊慌失措，脱口说出‘面包’来的。”
　　他顿了一下，又继续温和地说道：
　　“事情就是这么发生的，对吗？”
　　一段稍长时间的沉默之后，女孩儿突然低下了头。
　　巴特尔说：
　　“告诉我，孩子。究竟是怎么回事？”
　　“她把我们都叫到了一起，讲了一番话。我看见她的眼睛盯着我，我就知道她认为是我干的！我觉得我的脸红了——并且看到有几个女孩子在看着我。那滋味儿太难受了。接着其他女孩儿也开始看我，并且躲在角落里窃窃私语。我能看出她们都是怎么想的。后来有一天晚上，那个安普 [2] 把我和其他几个人叫到这里来，带我们玩了一个猜词游戏——她说出一些词，我们回答——”
　　巴特尔表示厌恶地哼了一声。
　　“我能想到这是要干什么……而……而我好像整个人都被麻痹了。我努力试着不要说错词儿……尽量去想些不相干的事情……好比松鼠啊、花儿啊之类的……而安普在那儿盯着我，眼睛就像锥子一样——你知道吗，有点儿像那种烦人的监狱看守盯着犯人的眼神。再后来呢……情况就越来越糟糕了，终于有一天那个安普找我谈话，态度特别和蔼……非常善解人意……而……而我就忍不住哭了，跟她说是我干的……噢！爸爸，说出来真是种解脱啊！”
　　巴特尔轻敲着自己的下巴。
　　“我听懂了。”
　　“你能理解吗？”
　　“不，西尔维娅，我不理解，因为我不会那么做。要是有谁试图让我承认我没干过的事儿，我肯定会给他下巴上来一拳。不过我明白这件事儿你是怎么走到这一步的了——而这么一来，你们那个目光锐利的安普可算是白捡了个现成的与众不同的心理学案例，这跟那些歪曲理论的半吊子鼓吹者没什么两样。现在要做的就是把这一堆乱七八糟的事情澄清。
　　安姆弗雷小姐在哪儿？”
　　安姆弗雷小姐偏巧正在附近转悠。听到巴特尔警司毫不客气的话语时，她那一脸表示同情的微笑顿时凝固了。
　　“为了替我女儿讨个公道，我必须要求你通知本地警方来调查此事。”
　　“可是，巴特尔先生，西尔维娅她自己——”
　　“西尔维娅从没有碰过这个地方任何一件不属于她的东西。”
　　“我很理解你，作为一名父亲——”
　　“我不是以一个父亲的身份在说话，而是一名警察。通知警方来帮你解决这件事吧。他们会慎重调查的。我猜你们会发现那些失窃的东西被藏在了某个地方，而且上面刚好会有一整套指纹。小毛贼不会想到要戴手套的。我现在要带我女儿走了。如果警察找到了证据——货真价实的证据——证明她和失窃案有关的话，我会做好准备让她出庭，并且承担她理应承担的罪责，不过我一点儿都不为此担心。”
　　大约五分钟后，当他带着坐在旁边的西尔维娅驾车开出校门的时候，他问道：
　　“那个浅黄色头发，稍微带些卷儿，脸蛋儿特别红，下巴上有个斑点，一双蓝眼睛分得很开的女孩儿是谁？我在走廊里的时候和她擦身而过。”
　　“听起来像是奥利夫•帕森斯。”
　　“啊，好极了，如果最后查出来是她干的，我丝毫都不会惊讶。”
　　“她看起来很害怕的样子吗？”
　　“没有，她看起来挺自命不凡的！这副冷静的自命不凡的嘴脸我在治安法庭上可见得多了！我愿意押一大笔钱赌她就是那个贼——不过你不会听到她坦白的——几乎不可能！”
　　西尔维娅叹了口气，说道：
　　“就像是从一场噩梦中醒来一样。哦，爸爸，我很抱歉！哦，我真的很抱歉！我怎么会这么傻，傻到这种地步呢？这件事真是让我难受极了。”
　　“啊，好啦，”巴特尔警司一边说，一边腾出扶着方向盘的一只手，轻轻拍了拍她的胳膊，嘴里念叨起他最喜欢的那一套老掉牙的安慰人的话，“你不用担心啦。这些事情都是用来考验我们的。没错，这些事就是来考验我们的。至少，我是这么想的。我看不出还有什么其他的意义……”
April 19th.
　　April 19th.
　　The sun was pouring down on Nevile Strange's house at Hindhead.
　　It was an April day such as usually occurs at least once in a month, hotter than most of the June days to follow.
　　Nevile Strange was coming down the stairs. He was dressed in white flannels and held four tennis racquets under his arm.
　　If a man could have been selected from amongst other Englishmen as an example of a lucky man with nothing to wish for, a Selection Committee might have chosen Nevile Strange. He was a man well known to the British public, a first-class tennis player and all-round sportsman. Though he had never reached the finals at Wimbledon, he had lasted several of the opening rounds and in the mixed doubles had twice reached the semi-finals. He was, perhaps, too much of an all-round athlete to be a champion tennis player. He was scratch at golf, a fine swimmer and had done some good climbs in the Alps. He was thirty-three, had magnificent health, good looks, plenty of money, an extremely beautiful wife whom he had recently married and, to all appearances, no cares or worries.
　　Nevertheless as Nevile Strange went downstairs this fine morning a shadow went with him. A shadow perceptible, perhaps, to no eyes but his. But he was aware of it, the thought of it furrowed his brow and made his expression troubled and indecisive.
　　He crossed the hall, squared his shoulders as though definitely throwing off some burden, passed through the living-room and out on to a glass-enclosed verandah, where his wife, Kay, was curled up amongst cushions drinking orange juice.
　　Kay Strange was twenty-three and unusually beautiful. She had a slender but subtly voluptuous figure, dark red hair, such a perfect skin that she used only the slightest make-up to enhance it, and those dark eyes and brows which so seldom go with red hair and which are so devastating when they do.
　　Her husband said lightly: "Hullo, Gorgeous, what's for breakfast?"Kay replied: "Horribly bloody-looking kidneys for you - and mushrooms - and rolls of bacon.""Sounds all right," said Nevile.
　　He helped himself to the aforementioned viands and poured out a cup of coffee. There was a companionable silence for some minutes.
　　"Oo," said Kay voluptuously, wriggling bare toes with scarlet manicured nails. "Isn't the sun lovely? England's not so bad, after all."They had just come back from the South of France.
　　Nevile, after a bare glance at the newspaper headlines, had turned to the sports page and merely said "Um ..."Then, proceeding to toast and marmalade, he put the paper aside and opened his letters.
　　There were a good many of these, but most of them he tore across and chucked away. Circulars, advertisements, printed matter.
　　Kay said: "I don't like my colour scheme in the living-room. Can I have it done over, Nevile?""Anything you like, Beautiful."
　　"Peacock blue," said Kay dreamily, "and ivory satin cushions.""You'll have to throw in an ape," said Nevile.
　　"You can be the ape," said Kay.
　　Nevile opened another letter.
　　"Oh, by the way," said Kay. "Shirty has asked us to go to Norway on the yacht at the end of June. Rather sickening we can't." She looked cautiously sideways at Nevile and added wistfully: "I would love it so."Something, some cloud, some uncertainty, seemed hovering on Nevile's face. Kay said rebelliously: "Have we got to go to dreary old Camilla's?" Nevile frowned.
　　"Of course we have. Look here, Kay, we've had this out before. Sir Matthew was my guardian. He and Camilla looked after me. Gull's Point is my home, as far as any place is home to me.""Oh, all right, all right," said Kay. "If we must, we must. After all, we get all that money when she dies, so I suppose we have to suck up a bit."Nevile said angrily: "It's not a question of sucking up! She's no control over the money. Sir Matthew left it in trust for her during her lifetime, and to come to me and my wife afterwards. It's a question of affection. Why can't you understand that?"Kay said, after a moment's pause: '"I do understand, really. I'm just putting on an act because - well, because I know I'm only allowed there on sufferance, as it were. They hate me! Yes, they do! Lady Tressilian looks down that long nose of hers at me and Mary Aldin looks over my shoulder when she talks to me. It's all very well for you. You don't see what goes on.""They always seem to be very polite to you. You know very well I wouldn't stand for it if they weren't."Kay gave him a curious look from under her dark lashes.
　　"They're polite enough. But they know how to get under my skin all right. I'm the interloper, that's what they feel.""Well," said Nevile, "after all, I suppose - that's natural enough, isn't it?"His voice had changed slightly. He got up and stood looking out at the view with his back to Kay.
　　"Oh, yes, I dare say it's natural. They were devoted to Audrey, weren't they?" Her voice shook a little. "Dear, well-bred, cool, colourless Audrey! Camilla's not forgiven me for taking her place."Nevile did not turn. His voice was lifeless, dull. He said: "After all, Camilla's old -past seventy. Her generation doesn't really like divorce, you know. On the whole, I think she's accepted the position very well considering how fond she was of - of Audrey."His voice changed just a little as he spoke the name.
　　"They think you treated her badly."
　　"So I did," said Nevile under his breath, but his wife heard.
　　"Oh, Nevile - don't be so stupid. Just because she chose to make such a frightful fuss.""She didn't make a fuss. Audrey never made fusses.""Well, you know what I mean. Because she went away and was ill, and went about everywhere looking broken-hearted. That's what I call a fuss! Audrey's not what I call a good loser. From my point of view if a wife can't hold her husband she ought to give him up gracefully! You two had nothing in common. She never played a game and was as anaemic and washed up as - as a dish-rag. No life or go in her! If she really cared about you, she ought to have thought about your happiness first and been glad you were going to be happy with someone more suited to you."Nevile turned. A faintly sardonic smile played round his lips. "What a little sportsman! How to play the game in love and matrimony!"Kay laughed and reddened.
　　"Well, perhaps I was going a bit too far. But at any rate once the thing had happened, there it was. You've got to accept these things!"Nevile said quietly: "Audrey accepted it. She divorced me so that you and I could marry.""Yes, I know -" Kay hesitated.
　　Nevile said: "You've never understood Audrey.""No, I haven't. In a way, Audrey gives me the creeps. I don't know what it is about her. You never know what she's thinking ... She's - she's a little frightening.""Oh! nonsense, Kay."
　　"Well, she frightens me. Perhaps it's because she's got brains.""My lovely nitwit."
　　Kay laughed.
　　"You always call me that!"
　　"Because it's what you are!"
　　They smiled at each other. Nevile came over to her and bending down, kissed the back of her neck.
　　"Lovely, lovely Kay," he murmured.
　　"Very good Kay," said Kay. "Giving up a lovely yachting trip to go and be snubbed by her husband's prim Victorian relations."Nevile went back and sat down by the table.
　　"You know," he said. "I don't see why we shouldn't go on that trip with Shirty if you really want to so much."Kay sat up in astonishment.
　　"And what about Saltcreek and Gull's Point?"Nevile said in a rather unnatural voice: "I don't see why we shouldn't go there early in September.""Oh, but, Nevile, surely - " She stopped.
　　"We can't go in July and August because of the Tournaments," said Nevile. "But we'd finish up at St. Loo the last week in August, and it would fit in very well if we went on to Saltcreek from there.""Oh, it would fit in all right - beautifully. But I thought - well, she always goes there for September, doesn't, she?""Audrey, you mean?"
　　"Yes. I suppose they could put her off, but -""Why should they put her off?"
　　Kay stared at him dubiously.
　　"You mean, we'd be there at the same time? What an extraordinary idea!"Nevile said irritably: "I don't think it's at all an extraordinary idea. Lots of people do it nowadays. Why shouldn't we all be friends together? It makes things so much simpler. Why, you said so yourself only the other day.""I did?"
　　"Yes, don't you remember? We were talking about the Howes, and you said it was the sensible, civilised way to look at things, and that Leonard's new wife and his Ex were the best of friends.""Oh, I wouldn't mind. I do think it's sensible. But - well, I don't think Audrey would feel like that about it.""Nonsense."
　　"It isn't nonsense. You know, Nevile, Audrey really was terribly fond of you ... I don't think she'd stand it for a moment.""You're quite wrong, Kay. Audrey thinks it would be quite a good thing.""Audrey - what do you mean, Audrey thinks? How do you know what Audrey thinks?"Nevile looked slightly embarrassed. He cleared his throat a little self-consciously.
　　"As a matter of fact, I happened to run into her yesterday when I was up in London.""You never told me."
　　Nevile said irritably: "I'm telling you now. It was absolute chance. I was walking across the Park and there she was coming towards me. You wouldn't want me to run away from her, would you?""No, of course not," said Kay, staring. "Go on.""I - we - well, we stopped, of course, and then I turned round and walked with her. I -I felt it was the least I could do.""Go on," said Kay.
　　"And then we sat down on a couple of chairs and talked. She was very nice - very nice indeed.""Delightful for you," said Kay.
　　"And we got talking, you know, about one thing and another. She was quite natural and normal - and - and all that.""Remarkable!" said Kay.
　　"And she asked how you were -"
　　"Very kind of her!"
　　"And we talked about you for a bit. Really, Kay, she couldn't have been nicer.""Darling Audrey!"
　　"And then it sort of came to me - you know - how nice it would be if - if you two could be friends - if we could all get together. And it occurred to me that perhaps we might manage it at Gull's Point this summer. Sort of place it could happen quite naturally.""You thought of that?"
　　"I - well - yes, of course. It was all my idea.""You've never said anything to me about having any such idea.""Well, I only happened to think of it just then.""I see. Anyway, you suggested it and Audrey thought it was a marvellous brainwave?"For the first time something in Kay's manner seemed to penetrate to Nevile's consciousness.
　　He said: "Is anything the matter, Gorgeous?""Oh, no, nothing! Nothing at all! It didn't occur to you or Audrey whether I should think it a marvellous idea?"Nevile stared at her.
　　"But, Kay, why on earth should you mind?"Kay bit her lip.
　　Nevile went on: "You said yourself - only the other day -""Oh, don't go into all that again! I was talking about other people - not us.""But that's partly what made me think of it.""More fool me. Not that I believe that."
　　Nevile was looking at her with dismay.
　　"But, Kay, why should you mind? I mean, there's nothing for you to mind about!""Isn't there?"
　　"Well, I mean - any jealousy or that - would be on the other side." He paused, his voice changed. "You see, Kay, you and I treated Audrey damned badly. No, I don't mean that. It was nothing to do with you. I treated her very badly. It's no good just saying that I couldn't help myself. I feel that if this could come off I'd feel better about the whole thing. It would make me a lot happier."Kay said slowly: "So you haven't been happy?""Darling idiot, what do you mean? Of course I've been happy, radiantly happy. But -"Kay cut in.
　　"But - that's it! There's always been a 'but' in this house. Some damned creeping shadow about the place. Audrey's shadow."Nevile stared at her.
　　"You mean to say you're jealous of Audrey?" he said.
　　"I'm not jealous of her. I'm afraid of her ... Nevile, you don't know what Audrey's like.""Not know what she's like when I've been married to her for over eight years?""You don't know," Kay repeated, "what Audrey is like."
四月十九日
　　四月十九日
　　阳光倾泻在内维尔•斯特兰奇位于欣德黑德的屋顶之上。
　　这是个四月天，却比即将到来的六月里大多数日子还要热，这种情况通常一个月里至少会发生一次。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇正走下楼梯。他穿着白色的法兰绒运动套装，胳膊下夹着四把网球拍。
　　如果要从其他英国人里选出一个无所欲求的幸运儿代表的话，估计选举委员会肯定会挑内维尔•斯特兰奇。他是个一流的网球选手，还是个全能运动员，在英国民众中算得上家喻户晓。虽说从未站到过温布尔登的决赛场地上，不过他已经好几次闯过了首轮关，还有两次打进了混双的半决赛。或许，他没能成为冠军级网球选手的原因是他太像个全能运动员了。他会打几杆高尔夫球，游泳游得不错，还成功地攀登过几回阿尔卑斯山。他今年三十三岁，身康体健，眉清目朗，家里有的是钱，最近还娶了个极其漂亮的太太，从各方面来看都是个无忧无虑的人。
　　尽管如此，当内维尔•斯特兰奇在这个明媚的早晨走下楼来的时候，还是有一抹阴影伴随着他。那是一抹也许除了他自己没人能够察觉到的阴影。不过他能意识到它的存在，一想到这个就会让他眉头紧蹙，脸上浮现出焦虑不安、举棋不定的神情。
　　他穿过大厅，端了端肩膀，好像要甩掉什么包袱似的，接着又穿过了起居室，来到外面用玻璃封闭起来的阳台上，他的太太凯正蜷缩在一堆垫子中间喝着橙汁。
　　凯•斯特兰奇二十三岁，美得不可方物。她身形柔弱，却又曼妙性感，有一头深红色的头发，完美的肌肤使得她仅需略施粉黛，而与红发相伴而生的乌黑的眼睛和眉毛更是让人觉得惊艳绝伦。
　　她丈夫随口说道：
　　“嗨，美人儿，早餐吃什么？”
　　凯回答道：
　　“给你准备了看起来特别血淋淋的腰子……还有蘑菇……还有培根卷儿。”
　　“听起来很不错啊。”内维尔说。
　　他自顾自吃着自己的那份早餐，又给自己倒了一杯咖啡。两个人和谐默契地同时沉默了片刻。
　　“喔，”凯一边扭动着她精心修剪过并且涂着鲜红色趾甲的脚趾，一边兴奋地说道，“没觉得这阳光很可爱吗？说到底，英格兰也没有那么糟嘛。”
　　他们俩刚刚从法国南部回来。
　　内维尔草草扫了一眼报纸的头版大标题后就翻到了体育版，只是嗯了一声。
　　接着，他把报纸放到一旁，边吃着吐司和果酱边打开他的信件。
　　收到的信很多，但大部分他都是直接撕了扔掉，净是些传单、广告和印刷品之类的东西。
　　“我不喜欢咱们起居室的配色了。我能让人再布置一下吗，内维尔？”
　　“随便你啊，美人儿。”
　　“孔雀蓝，”凯陶醉地说道，“和象牙白色的缎子面靠垫。”
　　“你还得再添一只猩猩。”内维尔说。
　　“你可以当那只猩猩。”凯说。
　　内维尔打开了另一封信。
　　“噢，对了，”凯说，“雪蒂想叫我们六月底坐游艇去挪威。真讨厌我们去不了。”
　　她小心翼翼地用余光瞄着内维尔，又惆怅地补了一句：“我还是挺想去的。”
　　某种东西浮上了内维尔的脸庞，一丝阴云，一丝犹疑。
　　凯带着不满的语气说道：
　　“我们非要到沉闷乏味的老卡米拉家去吗？”
　　内维尔皱起了眉头。
　　“当然得去。听我说，凯，这个问题我们之前已经说清楚了。马修爵士以前是我的监护人，是他和卡米拉在照顾我。如果要说还有什么地方对我来说像家一样的话，海鸥角就是。”
　　“噢，好吧，好吧，”凯说，“如果我们非去不可，那就去。毕竟她死了以后那些钱都归我们，所以还是得巴结巴结她。”
　　内维尔气呼呼地说：
　　“这不是巴结不巴结的问题！她支配不了那笔钱。马修爵士把钱留给她，让她在有生之年代管，而之后就会交给我和我的妻子。这是个感情问题。你怎么就不明白呢？”
　　凯沉默了片刻，然后说道：
　　“我明白。刚才我只是装装样子罢了，因为……呃，因为我知道从某种程度上来说，她们也是看在你的面子上才允许我去那儿的。她们讨厌我！没错，她们的确讨厌我！特雷西利安夫人瞧不起我，而玛丽•奥尔丁跟我说话的时候也是处处提防。对你来说那儿当然很好，你又不知道究竟发生了什么。”
　　“她们看起来对你总是非常客气，彬彬有礼的啊。你也清楚得很，她们如果不这样，我是不会容忍的。”
　　凯从她漆黑的睫毛下投给他不可思议的一瞥。
　　“她们是够客气的。不过她们知道怎么找我的麻烦，让我不痛快。我是个后来者，是个外人，她们就是这么想的。”
　　“呃，”内维尔说，“就算这样，我想——那也挺正常的，不是吗？”
　　他说着站起身来，背对着凯看外面的景色，语气稍微有了点儿变化。
　　“噢，没错，我想那是挺正常的。她们都喜欢奥德丽，对吗？”她的声音微微有些颤抖，“亲爱的，有教养的、冷静而又无趣的奥德丽！卡米拉不会原谅我抢了她的位置。”
　　内维尔没有转过身来，他的声音无精打采，死气沉沉。他说：“毕竟，卡米拉已经老了——年过七十了。你也知道，她那一辈儿人真的不喜欢离婚这种事儿。总的来说，我觉得如果考虑到她有多喜欢……奥德丽的话，她已经算是很好地接受目前这种现状了。”
　　当他说到那个名字的时候，嗓音有那么一点点变化。
　　“她们认为你亏待了她。”
　　“我确实是。”内维尔低声说，但没能逃过妻子的耳朵。
　　“噢，内维尔——别犯傻了。只是因为她就喜欢小题大做，搞得满城风雨。”
　　“她没有小题大做。奥德丽从来不会小题大做。”
　　“好吧，你明白我的意思。因为她离开了，而且生病了，不管到哪儿都摆出一副伤心欲绝的样子。我管这个就叫小题大做！奥德丽不是个输得起的人。要我说的话，如果一个老婆没本事留住她丈夫，就应该大大方方地放手！你们两个人毫无共同之处。她从来不参加任何运动，那副蔫头耷脑无精打采的样子就像……就像块洗碗布一样。全身上下了无生气！如果她真的关心你在乎你，她就应该首先考虑你的幸福，并且为你将要跟某个更适合你的人高高兴兴地在一起而感到开心才对。”
　　内维尔转过身来，嘴边隐约挂着一丝讥讽的微笑。
　　“真是个小运动健将啊！还知道怎么玩爱情和婚姻的游戏！”
　　凯脸红了，笑出声来。
　　“好啦，也许我说的有点儿过分。但不管怎么说，事情一旦发生，也就只能这样了。你必须接受事实！”
　　内维尔平静地说道：
　　“奥德丽接受了事实。她跟我离了婚，这样你我才能够结婚。”
　　“是啊，我知道——”凯迟疑了一下。
　　内维尔说：“你从来都没有理解过奥德丽。”
　　“对，我不理解。从某种程度上来说，奥德丽让我觉得毛骨悚然。我搞不懂她是怎么回事儿。你永远都不知道她在想什么……她——她有点儿吓人。”
　　“噢，别瞎说了，凯。”
　　“好吧，她吓着我了。或许是因为她很聪明吧。”
　　“我可爱的小傻瓜啊！”
　　凯笑了起来。
　　“你总是这么叫我！”
　　“因为你就是啊！”
　　他们相视而笑。内维尔走到她身边，俯下身子，在她的后颈上吻了一下……“可爱的、迷人的凯。”他低语道。
　　“特别乖的凯，”凯说，“放弃了一次美好的游艇之旅，还要去看她丈夫那些古板的维多利亚时代亲戚的脸色。”
　　内维尔走回桌边，坐了下来。
　　“你知道吗，”他说，“如果你那么想参加这次旅行的话，我不明白我们为什么不能和雪蒂一起去。”
　　凯惊讶地坐了起来。
　　“那盐溪和海鸥角怎么办？”
　　内维尔用有些不自然的声音说道：
　　“我不明白为什么我们不能等到九月初再去那里。”
　　“噢，不过内维尔，想必——”她欲言又止。
　　“我们七八月都不能去，因为有锦标赛，”内维尔说，“但八月的最后一周比赛就结束了，地点就在圣卢，我们正好可以从那里去盐溪。”
　　“噢，这个时间太合适了，简直完美极了。不过我想……呃，她通常都是九月份去那里的，不是吗？”
　　“你是说奥德丽？”
　　“是啊。我猜她们能找个借口让她晚点儿去，只是——”
　　“她们为什么要让她晚点儿去？”
　　凯将信将疑地盯着他。
　　“你是说，咱们要同时到那儿？这个主意太让人吃惊了。”
　　内维尔性急地说道：
　　“我一点儿都不觉得这有什么可吃惊的。现如今很多人都会这样。我们为什么不能在一起成为朋友呢？这么一来事情就简单多了。哼，那天你自己还这么说过呢。”
　　“我这么说过？”
　　“可不是吗，你都不记得了？那天我们谈到豪斯他们家，谈到伦纳德的新任太太和他前妻是挚友的时候，你还说这种对待问题的方法很是理智文明呢。”
　　“哦，我是不介意啊。我的确认为这样挺理智的。只不过——嗯，对这件事奥德丽可能不会这么想。”
　　“胡说八道。”
　　“这可不是胡说八道。你知道吗，内维尔，奥德丽真是爱你爱得死去活来——我觉得她连一小会儿都忍受不了。”
　　“你大错特错了，凯。奥德丽认为那会是件相当好的事情。”
　　“奥德丽——你这话什么意思？奥德丽认为？你怎么知道奥德丽是怎么认为的呢？”
　　内维尔看上去稍显尴尬。他有点儿难为情地清了清嗓子。
　　“事实上，我昨天去伦敦的时候碰巧遇见她了。”
　　“你都没告诉过我。”
　　内维尔有些起急地说道：
　　“我现在就在告诉你。那纯粹是偶然。我正穿过海德公园的时候，就看见她恰好迎着我走过来。你总不会想让我一见着她撒腿就跑，对吧？”
　　“不，当然不会，”凯瞪大了双眼，说道，“说下去。”
　　“我……我们……呃，我们就站住了，当然啦，然后我就掉转方向和她走了一段。
　　我……我觉得这是起码的礼貌。”
　　“往下说。”
　　“然后我们就找了两张椅子坐下来说话。她表现得很亲切——真的很亲切。”
　　“这下你可美坏了。”
　　“再然后我们就聊天儿，你知道吗，一件事儿接一件事儿地聊。她看上去很自然，也很正常——反正就是那样啦。”
　　“不简单啊！”
　　“她还问起你怎么样——”
　　“她太客气了！”
　　“接着我们又聊了一点儿关于你的事儿。说真的，凯，她没法表现得更亲切了。”
　　“亲爱的奥德丽啊！”
　　“后来我脑子里突然就想到——你明白吗，要是你们俩能够成为朋友……要是我们大伙儿都能聚在一起，那该有多好啊。我想或许今年夏天我们可以把这个聚会安排在海鸥角进行。安排在那种地方可算是再自然不过了。”
　　“是你想出的这个点子？”
　　“我……呃……没错，当然是。那都是我的主意。”
　　“你一个字都没对我提过你有这种想法。”
　　“嗯，我也只是在那个时候刚好想到的。”
　　“我懂了。不管怎么说，这是你提议的，而奥德丽认为这是个绝妙的好主意？”
　　直到此时，内维尔似乎才觉察到凯态度中的某些东西。
　　“怎么啦，美人儿？”
　　“噢不，没有！没什么！你或者奥德丽就没有想到过我是否也会觉得这是个绝妙的主意吗？”
　　内维尔凝视着她。
　　“可是，凯，你又究竟有什么可介意的呢？”
　　凯咬着嘴唇。
　　内维尔继续说道：
　　“就在那天，你自己也说过——”
　　“噢，别再把那些话翻出来了！我那时候说的是别人，不是我们。”
　　“不过在一定程度上，也正是那些话才让我想到这个主意的。”
　　“我可真傻。那并不代表我就相信那种说法。”
　　内维尔带着一脸沮丧看着她。
　　“可是，凯，你为什么要介意呢？我是说，你根本就没有什么可介意的啊！”
　　“没有吗？”
　　“呃，我的意思是——要说吃醋什么的——也应该是她啊。”他顿了一下，嗓音有了些变化，“听我说，凯，你和我特别对不住奥德丽。不，我不是这个意思。这和你一丁点儿关系都没有。是我对不住她。光说我是不得已是没有用的。我觉得如果能促成这次聚会，我会感到好过些。这会让我快乐很多。”
　　凯缓缓地说道：
　　“这么说你一直都不快乐？”
　　“亲爱的小傻瓜，你想到哪儿去了？我当然一直都快乐了，简直快乐无比。只是——”
　　凯打断了他的话。
　　“只是——问题就在这儿！这个家里总会有个‘只是’在。这地方四处都有个该死的阴影在飘荡，奥德丽的阴影。”
　　内维尔盯着她。
　　“你是想说你吃奥德丽的醋？”他问道。
　　“我不是吃她的醋。我是害怕她……内维尔，你不知道奥德丽是个什么样的人。”
　　“我跟她结婚以后一起生活了八年多，还不知道她是什么样的人？”
　　“你不知道，”凯重复道，“奥德丽是个什么样的人。”
April 30th.
　　April 30th.
　　"Preposterous!" said Lady Tressilian. She drew herself up on her pillow and glared fiercely round the room.
　　"Absolutely preposterous! Nevile must be mad." "It does seem rather odd," said Mary Aldin.
　　Lady Tressilian had a striking-looking profile with a slender bridged nose, down which, when so inclined, she could look with telling effect. Though now over seventy and in frail health, her native vigour of mind was in no way impaired. She had, it is true, long periods of retreat from life and its emotions when she would lie with half-closed eyes, but from these semi-comas she would emerge with all her faculties sharpened to the uttermost, and with an incisive tongue. Propped up by pillows in a large bed set across one corner of her room, she held her court like some French Queen. Mary Aldin, a distant cousin, lived with her and looked after her. The two women got on together excellently. Mary was thirty-six, but had one of those smooth ageless faces that change little with passing years. She might have been thirty or forty-five. She had a good figure, an air of breeding, and dark hair to which one lock of white across the front gave a touch of individuality. It was at one time a fashion, but Mary's white lock of hair was natural and she had had it since her girlhood.
　　She looked down now reflectively at Nevile Strange's letter, which Lady Tressilian had handed to her.
　　"Yes," she said. "It does seem rather odd.""You can't tell me," said Lady Tressilian, "that this is Nevile's own idea! Somebody put it into his head. Probably that new wife of his.""Kay. You think it was Kay's idea?"
　　"It would be quite like her. New and vulgar. If husbands and wives have to advertise their difficulties in public and have recourse to divorce, then they might at least part decently. The new wife and the old wife making friends is quite disgusting, to my mind. Nobody has any standards nowadays!""I suppose it is just the modern way," said Mary.
　　"It won't happen in my house," said Lady Tressilian. "I consider I've done all that could be asked of me having that scarlet-toed creature here at all.""She is Nevile's wife."
　　"Exactly. Therefore I felt that Matthew would have wished it. He was devoted to the boy and always wanted him to look on this as his home. Since to refuse to receive his wife would have made an open breach, I gave way and asked her here. I do not like her - she's quite the wrong wife for Nevile - no background, no roots!""She's quite well born," said Mary placatingly.
　　"Bad stock!" said Lady Tressilian. "Her father, as I've told you, had to resign from all his clubs after that card business. Luckily he died shortly after. And her mother was notorious on the Riviera. What a bringing-up for the girl! Nothing but hotel life - and that mother! Then she meets Nevile on the tennis courts, makes a dead set at him and never rests until she gets him to leave his wife - of whom he was extremely fond - and go off with her! I blame her entirely for the whole thing!"Mary smiled faintly. Lady Tressilian had the old-fashioned characteristic of always blaming the woman and being indulgent towards the man in the case.
　　"I suppose, strictly speaking, Nevile was equally to blame," she suggested.
　　"Nevile was very much to blame," agreed Lady Tressilian. "He had a charming wife who had always been devoted - perhaps too devoted - to him. Nevertheless, if it hadn't been for that girl's persistence, I am convinced he would have come to his senses. But she was determined to marry him! Yes, my sympathies are entirely with Audrey. I am very fond of Audrey."Mary sighed. "It has all been very difficult," she said.
　　"Yes, indeed. One is at a loss to know how to act in such difficult circumstances. Matthew was fond of Audrey, and so am I, and one cannot deny that she was a very good wife to Nevile, though perhaps it is a pity that she could not have shared his amusements more. She was never an athletic girl. The whole business was very distressing. When I was a girl, these things simply did not happen. Men had their affairs, naturally, but they were not allowed to break up married life.""Well, they happen now," said Mary bluntly.
　　"Exactly. You have so much common sense, dear. It is of no use recalling bygone days. These things happen, and girls like Kay Mortimer steal other women's husbands and nobody thinks the worse of them!""Except people like you, Camilla!"
　　"I don't count. That Kay creature doesn't worry whether I approve of her or not. She's too busy having a good time. Nevile can bring her here when he comes and I'm even willing to receive her friends - though I do not much care for that very theatrical-looking young man who is always hanging round her - what is his name?""Ted Latimer?"
　　"That is it. A friend of her Riviera days - and I should very much like to know how he manages to live as he does.""By his wits," suggested Mary.
　　"One might pardon that. I rather fancy he lives by his looks. Not a pleasant friend for Nevile's wife! I disliked the way he came down last summer and stayed at the Easterhead Bay Hotel while they were here."Mary looked out of the open window. Lady Tressilian's house was situated on a steep cliff overlooking the river Tern. On the other side of the river was the newly created summer resort of Easterhead Bay, consisting of a big sandy bathing beach, a cluster of modern bungalows and a large hotel on the headland looking out to sea. Saltcreek itself was a straggling, picturesque fishing village set on the side of a hill. It was old-fashioned, conservative and deeply contemptuous of Easterhead Bay and its summer visitors.
　　The Easterhead Bay Hotel was nearly exactly opposite Lady Tressilian's house, and Mary looked across the narrow strip of water at it now where it stood in its blatant newness.
　　"I am glad," said Lady Tressilian, closing her eyes, "that Matthew never saw that vulgar building. The coastline was quite unspoilt in his time."Sir Matthew and Lady Tressilian had come to Gull's Point thirty years ago. It was nine years since Sir Matthew, an enthusiastic sailing man, had capsized his dinghy and been drowned almost in front of his wife's eyes.
　　Everybody had expected her to sell Gull's Point and leave Saltcreek, but Lady Tressilian had not done so. She had lived on in the house, and her only visible reaction had been to dispose of all the boats and do away with the boat-house. There were no boats available for guests at Gull's Point. They had to walk along to the ferry and hire a boat from one of the rival boatmen there.
　　Mary said, hesitating a little: "Shall I write, then, to Nevile, and tell him that what he proposes does not fit in with our plans?""I certainly shall not dream of interfering with Audrey's visit. She has always come to us in September and I shall not ask her to change her plans."Mary said, looking down at the letter: "You did see that Nevile says Audrey - er -approves of the idea - that she is quite willing to meet Kay?""I simply don't believe it," said Lady Tressilian. "Nevile, like all men, believes what he wants to believe!"Mary persisted: "He says he has actually spoken to her about it.""What a very odd thing to do! No - perhaps, after all, it isn't."Mary looked at her inquiringly.
　　"Like Henry the Eighth," said Lady Tressilian.
　　Mary looked puzzled.
　　Lady Tressilian elaborated her last remark.
　　"Conscience, you know! Henry was always trying to get Catherine to agree that the divorce was the right thing. Nevile knows that he has behaved badly - he wants to feel comfortable about it all. So he has been trying to bully Audrey into saying everything is all right and that she'll come and meet Kay and that she doesn't mind at all.""I wonder," said Mary slowly.
　　Lady Tressilian looked at her sharply.
　　"What's in your mind, my dear?"
　　"I was wondering -" She stopped, then went on: "It - it seems so unlike Nevile -this letter! You don't think that, for some reason, Audrey wants this - this meeting?""Why should she?" said Lady Tressilian sharply. "After Nevile left her she went to her aunt, Mrs. Royde, at the Rectory, and had a complete breakdown. She was absolutely like a ghost of her former self. Obviously it hit her terribly hard. She's one of those quiet self-contained people who feel things intensely."Mary moved uneasily.
　　"Yes, she is intense. A queer girl in many ways ...""She suffered a lot ... Then the divorce went through and Nevile married the girl, and little by little Audrey began to get over it. Now she's almost back to her old self. You can't tell me she wants to rake up old memories again."Mary said with gentle obstinacy: "Nevile says she does." The old lady looked at her curiously.
　　"You're extraordinarily obstinate about this, Mary. Why? Do you want to have them here together?"Mary Aldin flushed. "No, of course not."
　　Lady Tressilian said sharply: "It's not you who have been suggesting all this to Nevile?""How can you be so absurd?"
　　"Well, I don't believe for a minute it's really his idea. It's not like Nevile." She paused a minute, then her face cleared. "It's the 1st of May tomorrow, isn't it? Well, on the 3rd Audrey is coming to stay with the Darlingtons at Esbank. It's only twenty miles away. Write and ask her to come over and lunch here."
四月三十日
　　四月三十日
　　“荒唐透顶！”特雷西利安夫人说道。她在靠枕上挺直了身子，怒气冲冲地环顾着整个房间。“绝对是荒唐透顶！内维尔肯定是疯了。”
　　“这看上去确实有点儿古怪。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。
　　特雷西利安夫人长着一个引人注目的狭长鼻梁，只要她愿意，就能让自己看上去有足够的说服力。尽管已经年过七十，身体虚弱，但她与生俱来的思维活力却丝毫没有减损。
　　诚然，从她总是半睁半闭着眼睛躺在那里的时候算起，她已经远离世事纷扰很长时间了，不过在这种半睡半醒的表象之下，她还是会显现出她其实依然牙尖嘴利，耳聪目明。借着房间一角那张大床上靠枕的支撑，她的派头俨然就像某个法国皇后。玛丽•奥尔丁是她的一个远房表妹，跟她同住并且照顾她的起居。这两个女人在一起和睦相处，水乳交融。玛丽三十六岁，却有着一张岁月都很难在上面留下痕迹的光滑脸庞。她的外貌看上去既可以说像三十岁，也可以说像四十岁。她身材姣好，透着一种知书达礼的感觉，满头青丝中前额的一缕白发让人能够感受到她的一点点个性。这种形象一度成为一种时尚，不过玛丽的这缕白发可是自然而然的，打从她还是个小姑娘的时候就有了。
　　此时，她正若有所思地低头看着特雷西利安夫人递给她的那封内维尔•斯特兰奇写来的信。
　　“是啊，”她说，“看起来确实有点儿古怪。”
　　“你不会告诉我，”特雷西利安夫人说，“这是内维尔自己的主意吧？肯定是什么人唆使他这么干的。没准儿就是他那个新太太。”
　　“凯？你觉得这是凯的主意？”
　　“很像是她，初来乍到又庸俗粗鄙！如果夫妻间不得已要公开他们相处时遇到的困难并且需要诉诸离婚的话，那么他们至少应该体面地分开。在我看来，让新太太和旧太太交朋友的做法实在是令人作呕。现如今大家都没什么底线了！”
　　“我猜这只不过是时下里比较时髦的处理办法吧。”玛丽说。
　　“在我的家里可不会发生这种事，”特雷西利安夫人说，“我认为，能让那个涂着鲜红色脚指甲油的货色来我家，我已经算是仁至义尽了。”
　　“她可是内维尔的太太。”
　　“千真万确。所以我才觉得马修会乐意让我这么做。他很喜欢这个小伙子，总是想让他把这儿当成家。要是我拒绝让他太太来，那就是在公然违背马修的心愿了，所以我让步了，叫她也来这里。我不喜欢她。内维尔娶了她完全就是个错误——门不当，户不对！”
　　“她出身还是相当不错的。”玛丽安抚地说道。
　　“坏坯子！”特雷西利安夫人说，“我告诉过你，她父亲自从那桩桥牌事件之后就不得不辞去他在所有俱乐部里的职务。幸好没过多久他就死了。而她母亲在里维埃拉可是臭名昭著。这姑娘得是在什么样的环境里长大的啊。除了酒店生活之外什么也没有——对了，还有她那个妈！后来她在网球场上认识了内维尔，就对他死缠烂打，一刻都不消停，直到让他跟他太太——他极其钟爱的太太——离了婚，最终跟她跑了为止！这件事从头到尾都得怪她！”
　　玛丽淡淡地一笑。特雷西利安夫人是个老派人，遇到这种事情总是会责备女人而袒护男方。
　　“我觉得，严格来说，内维尔同样难辞其咎。”她说。
　　“内维尔也有很大责任，”特雷西利安夫人表示同意，“他有个那么迷人的太太，一直都那么爱他——或许是太爱了吧。不过，要不是因为那个女孩儿纠缠不休，我相信他肯定会幡然醒悟的。可她却铁了心要嫁给他！没错，我完全站在奥德丽这一边。我非常喜欢奥德丽。”
　　玛丽叹了口气。“这种情况真是很棘手啊。”
　　“是啊，的确如此。面临这种困难局面总是会令人不知所措。马修喜欢奥德丽，我也一样，尽管她无法更多地跟内维尔一起参与他那些娱乐活动，这或许是个缺憾，但你无法否认，对于内维尔来说她是个非常出色的妻子。她本来就不是个运动型的姑娘。这个变故让人极其痛心。在我还是个姑娘的时候，这类事情根本就不会发生。男人们难免会去外面拈花惹草，不过他们可不能随随便便闹离婚。”
　　“好吧，他们现在能了。”玛丽直言不讳。
　　“说对了。亲爱的，你懂得的人情世故还真不少。总在这里追忆往昔什么用处都没有。
　　像凯•莫蒂默这样的女孩子偷了别人的丈夫也不会有人觉得她们有什么不好，事情就是这样！”
　　“除了像你这样的人，卡米拉！”
　　“我不算数。那个叫凯的货色才不会担心我对她赞同不赞同呢。她得忙着过她的好日子。内维尔来的时候可以带着她，我甚至也愿意接待她的那些朋友——尽管我不怎么喜欢那个总是围着她转的长相很做作的小伙子。他叫什么来着？”
　　“特德•拉蒂默？”
　　“就是他。那是她在里维埃拉的时候结交的朋友。我特别想知道他是靠什么来谋生的。”
　　“靠他的小聪明。”玛丽暗示道。
　　“那还情有可原。我总觉得他是靠脸蛋儿吃饭的。内维尔太太交上这种朋友可不好！我不喜欢去年夏天那两口子待在这儿时，他也跟着住在复活节海湾酒店。”
　　玛丽从打开的窗户向外看去。特雷西利安夫人的房子坐落在俯瞰燕鸥河的悬崖峭壁上。河对岸是复活节海湾新建成的避暑胜地，包括一个大型海滨浴场、一排现代化小别墅以及一家位于海岬之上面朝大海的大酒店。盐溪本身是一个散落于山侧的风景如画的渔村。它古旧保守，对于复活节海湾和它夏日里的访客存有深深的鄙夷。
　　复活节海湾酒店几乎就在特雷西利安夫人房子的正对面，玛丽的目光此时正越过狭窄的河面眺望着这幢矗立在那里耀眼夺目的崭新建筑。
　　“我很高兴，”特雷西利安夫人闭上双眼说道，“马修从来没有看见过那栋俗气的建筑。
　　他在世的时候这海岸线还没怎么被破坏呢。”
　　马修爵士和特雷西利安夫人三十年前就来到海鸥角了。马修爵士是个热情高涨的航海爱好者，九年前他不慎弄翻了他的小艇，几乎就在他妻子的眼皮底下活活淹死了。
　　所有人都以为她会变卖海鸥角的房子，离开盐溪，然而特雷西利安夫人没有这么做。
　　她依然住在这所房子里，大家看到她所做的唯一举动就是处理掉了所有的船，并且拆除了船屋。从此，再来海鸥角的客人就无船可用了。他们只能一路走到渡口，找那里的那些船夫租船。
　　玛丽有几分迟疑地说道：
　　“那用不用我给内维尔写封信，告诉他他的安排和我们的计划不太一致？”
　　“我当然不会干扰奥德丽的来访。她通常都是在九月份来我们这里，我不会让她改变计划的。”
　　玛丽低下头看着信，说道：
　　“你也看见了，内维尔说奥德丽……呃……赞成这个主意——说她很愿意见见凯吧？”
　　“我就是不相信这点，”特雷西利安夫人说，“内维尔和所有男人一样，只相信他想相信的东西！”
　　玛丽坚持说道：
　　“他说他实际上已经跟她说过这件事了。”
　　“这么做实在是太奇怪了！不——也许，说到底也不算很怪！”
　　玛丽诧异地看着她。
　　“就像亨利八世。”特雷西利安夫人说。
　　玛丽看上去一头雾水。
　　特雷西利安夫人详细解释了她最后那句话。
　　“你知道吗，良心不安啊！亨利一直试图想让凯瑟琳认同离婚是件很正当的事情。内维尔也知道他自己的行为很恶劣——对这件事他想要求个心安。于是他也一直在逼迫奥德丽，想让她说一切都很好，说她愿意来这里见见凯，说她丝毫都不介意。”
　　“我有点儿纳闷。”玛丽慢吞吞地说。
　　特雷西利安夫人目光锐利地看着她。
　　“你心里在想什么，亲爱的？”
　　“我在纳闷——”她停顿了一下，又继续说道，“这个……这个看起来太不像内维尔了——我是说这封信！你难道不觉得，出于某种原因，是奥德丽想要安排这次……这次会面吗？”
　　“她怎么会想？”特雷西利安夫人严词道，“内维尔离开她以后她就投奔了姨妈罗伊德太太，住在教区长的家里，在那儿她彻底崩溃了。她完完全全就像是以前那个自己的鬼魂一样。显然，这件事对她的打击太大了。她一向沉静内敛，对事物的感受却很强烈。”
　　玛丽不自在地挪了挪身子。
　　“是啊，她的感情是很强烈。在很多方面都是个奇怪的姑娘……”
　　“她受了不少苦……后来离婚手续办妥了，内维尔也娶了那个女孩，奥德利这才开始一点一点地从这场变故中恢复过来。现在她几乎已经恢复如初了。你可别告诉我她又想要旧事重提吧？”
　　玛丽带着一点点固执说道：
　　“内维尔说是她想。”
　　老太太好奇地看着她。
　　“玛丽，你在这件事上还真是出奇地固执啊。为什么？你想让他们一起来这儿？”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁的脸涨得通红。“不，当然不是了。”
　　特雷西利安夫人厉声说道：
　　“该不会是你给内维尔出的这个主意吧？”
　　“你怎么会有如此荒唐的想法呢？”
　　“哼，我压根儿也不相信这真是他的主意。这不像内维尔。”她稍停了片刻，脸上的阴云散去了。“明天是五月一日，对不对？好吧，五月三日奥德丽会到伊斯班克的达林顿家小住，离这儿只有二十英里。给她写封信，让她过来吃顿午饭。”
May 5th.
　　May 5th.
　　"Mrs. Strange, m'lady."
　　Audrey Strange came into the big bedroom, crossed the room to the big bed, stooped down and kissed the old lady and sat down in the chair placed ready for her.
　　"Nice to see you, my dear," said Lady Tressilian. "And nice to see you," said Audrey.
　　There was a quality of intangibility about Audrey Strange. She was of medium height with very small hands and feet. Her hair was ash blonde and there was very little colour in her face. Her eyes were set wide apart and were a clear pale grey. Her features were small and regular, a straight little nose set in a small, oval, pale face. With such colouring, with a face that was pretty but not beautiful, she had nevertheless a quality about her that could not be denied nor ignored and that drew your eyes to her again and again. She was a little like a ghost, but you felt at the same time that a ghost might be possessed of more reality than a live human being ...
　　She had a singularly lovely voice; soft and clear like a small silver bell.
　　For some minutes she and the old lady talked of mutual friends and current events. Then Lady Tressilian said: "Besides the pleasure of seeing you, my dear, I asked you to come because I've had rather a curious letter from Nevile."Audrey looked up. Her eyes were wide, tranquil sad calm. She said: "Oh, yes?""He suggests - a preposterous suggestion, I call it - that he and - and Kay should come here in September. He says he wants you and Kay to be friends and that you yourself think it a good idea?"She waited. Presently Audrey said in her gentle, placid voice: "Is it - so preposterous?""My dear - do you really want this to happen?"Audrey was silent again for a minute or two, then she said gently: "I think, you know, it might be rather a good thing.""You really want to meet this - you want to meet Kay?""I do think, Camilla, that it might - simplify things.""Simplify things!" Lady Tressilian repeated the words helplessly.
　　Audrey spoke very softly: "Dear Camilla. You have been so good. If Nevile wants this -""A fig for what Nevile wants!" said Lady Tressilian robustly. "Do you want it, that's the question?"A little colour came in Audrey's cheeks. It was the soft, delicate glow of a sea-shell.
　　"Yes," she said. "I do want it."
　　"Well," said Lady Tressilian, "well -"
　　She stopped.
　　"But, of course," said Audrey. "It is entirely your choice. It is your house and -"Lady Tressilian shut her eyes.
　　"I'm an old woman," she said. "Nothing makes sense any more.""But, of course - I'll come some other time. Any time will suit me.""You'll come in September, as you always do," snapped Lady Tressilian. "And Nevile and Kay shall come, too. I may be old, but I can adapt myself, I suppose, as well as anyone else, to the changing phases of modern life. Not another word; that's settled."She closed her eyes again. After a minute or two she said, peering through half-shut lids at the young woman beside her: "Well, got what you want?"Audrey started. "Oh, yes, yes. Thank you.""My dear," said Lady Tressilian, and her voice was deep and concerned, "are you sure this isn't going to hurt you? You were very fond of Nevile, you know. This may reopen old wounds."Audrey was looking down at her small gloved hands. One of them. Lady Tressilian noticed, was clenched on the side of the bed.
　　Audrey lifted her head. Her eyes were calm and untroubled. She said: "All that is quite over now. Quite over."Lady Tressilian leaned more heavily back on her pillows. "Well - you should know. I'm tired - you must leave me now, dear. Mary is waiting for you downstairs. Tell them to send Barrett to me."Barrett was Lady Tressilian's elderly and devoted maid. She came in to find her mistress lying back with closed eyes.
　　"The sooner I'm out of this world the better, Barrett," said Lady Tressilian. "I don't understand anything or anyone in it.""Ah! don't say that, my lady; you're tired."Yes, I'm tired. Take that eiderdown off my feet and give me a dose of my tonic.""It's Mrs. Strange coming that's upset you. A nice lady, but she could do with a tonic, I'd say. Not healthy. Always looks as though she's seeing things other people don't see. But she's got a lot of character. She makes herself felt, as you might say.""That's very true, Barrett," said Lady Tressilian. "Yes, that's very true.""And she's not the kind you easily forget, either. I've often wondered if Mr. Nevile thinks of her sometimes. The new Mrs. Strange is very handsome - very handsome indeed - but Miss Audrey is the kind you remember when she isn't there."Lady Tressilian said with a sudden chuckle: "Nevile's a fool to want to bring those two women together. He's the one who'll be sorry for it!"
Rose Red and Snow White（2）
　　II
　　Upstairs Nevile had found Kay in her bedroom. The only large double-bedroom in the house was Lady Tressilian's. A married couple was always given the two rooms with communicating door and a small bathroom beyond on the west side of the house. It was a small isolated suite.
　　Nevile passed through his own room and on into his wife's. Kay had flung herself down on her bed. Raising a tear-stained face, she cried out angrily: "So you've come! About time, too!""What is all this fuss about? Have you gone quite crazy, Kay?"Nevile spoke quietly, but there was a dent at the corner of his nostril that registered restrained anger.
　　"Why did you give that Illustrated Review to her and not to me?""Really, Kay, you are a child. All this fuss about a wretched little picture paper.""You gave it to her and not to me," repeated Kay obstinately.
　　"Well, why not? What does it matter?"
　　"It matters to me."
　　"I don't know what's wrong with you. You can't behave in this hysterical fashion when you're staying in other people's houses. Don't you know how to behave in public?""Why did you give it to Audrey?" "Because she wanted it." "So did I, and I'm your wife.""All the more reason, in that case, for giving it to an older woman and one who, technically, is no relation.""She scored off me! She wanted to and she did. You were on her side!""You're talking like an idiotic, jealous child. For goodness' sake, control yourself, and try and behave properly in public!""Like she does, I suppose?"
　　Nevile said coldly: "At any rate, Audrey can behave like a lady. She doesn't make an exhibition of herself.""She's turning you against me! She hates me and she's getting her revenge.""Look here, Kay, will you stop being melodramatic and completely foolish? I'm fed up!""Then let's go away from here! Let's go to-morrow. I hate this place!" "We've only been here four days." "It's quite enough! Do let's go, Nevile.""Now look here, Kay. I've had enough of this. We came here for a fortnight, and I'm going to stay for a fortnight.""If you do," said Kay, "you'll be sorry. You and your Audrey! You think she's wonderful!""I don't think Audrey is wonderful. I think she's an extremely nice and kindly person, whom I've treated very badly and who has been most generous and forgiving.""That's where you're wrong," said Kay. She got up from the bed. Her fury had died down. She spoke seriously - almost soberly.
　　"Audrey hasn't forgiven you, Nevile. Once or twice I've seen her looking at you ... I don't know what is going on in her mind, but something is ... She's the kind that doesn't let anyone know what they're thinking.""It's a pity," said Nevile, "that there aren't more people like that."Kay's face went very white.
　　"Do you mean that for me?" There was a dangerous edge to her voice.
　　"Well - you haven't shown much reticence, have you? Every bit of ill-temper and spite that comes into your mind you blurt straight out. You make a fool of yourself and you make a fool of me!""Anything more to say?" Her voice was icy.
　　He said in an equally cold tone: "I'm sorry if you think that was unfair. But it's the plain truth. You've no more self-control than a child.""You never lose your temper, do you? Always the self-controlled, charming-mannered little pukka sahib! I don't believe you've got any feelings. You're just a fish - a damned cold-blooded fish! Why don't you let yourself go now and then? Why don't you shout at me, swear at me, tell me to go to Hell?"Nevile sighed. His shoulders sagged.
　　"Oh, Lord," he said.
　　Turning on his heel he left the room.
五月五日
　　五月五日
　　“斯特兰奇太太来了，夫人。”
　　奥德丽•斯特兰奇走进宽敞的卧室，穿过房间来到大床边上，俯下身来吻了吻床上的老太太，然后在为她准备好的椅子上坐了下来。
　　“见到你真高兴，亲爱的。”特雷西利安夫人说道。
　　“见到你我也很高兴。”奥德丽说。
　　奥德丽•斯特兰奇周身散发着一种让人难以捉摸的气质。她中等个头，手脚很小，灰金色的头发，脸上几乎没什么血色，一双清澈的浅灰色眼睛分得很开，她的五官端正，娇小玲珑，鹅蛋形苍白的小脸正中有一个笔直的小鼻子。配上这样的肤色，再配上这样一张漂亮却算不得标致的脸，不管怎么说，都使她拥有了一种你既无法否认也无法忽视的气质，会吸引你的目光一而再再而三地停留在她身上。她有点儿像个幽灵，但同时你又会觉得幽灵或许会比活生生的人显得更加真实……她说话的声音格外悦耳、温婉清晰，如同小银铃一般。
　　她和老太太先是就共同的朋友和时事新闻聊了几分钟。接着特雷西利安夫人说道：
　　“亲爱的，我叫你来，除了是想见见你高兴高兴以外，还因为我收到了一封内维尔寄来的奇怪的信。”
　　奥德丽抬起头来。她的眼睛睁得很大，眼神却平静安详。她说道：
　　“哦，是吗？”
　　“他提出了……一个荒唐透顶的提议，反正我是这么评价的！说他和……和凯九月份要来这里。他说他想让你和凯交个朋友，还说你本人也觉得这个主意不赖？”
　　她停下来等待着。没一会儿奥德丽就用她温和平静的声音开口说道：
　　“这个主意……有那么荒唐吗？”
　　“亲爱的，难道你当真想让这样的事情发生？”
　　奥德丽再一次沉默了片刻，然后从容不迫地说道：
　　“你知道吗，我觉得这也可能会是件好事。”
　　“你真的想要见这个——你想见见凯？”
　　“我真的觉得，卡米拉，这样兴许会……让事情简单一些。”
　　“让事情简单一些！”特雷西利安夫人无可奈何地重复道。
　　奥德丽极其轻柔地说道：
　　“亲爱的卡米拉啊。你一直都那么好。如果内维尔想要这样——”
　　“我才不管内维尔想要哪样儿呢！”特雷西利安夫人不由分说地说道，“关键问题在于，你想不想？”
　　奥德丽的双颊泛起淡淡的红晕，就像贝壳散发出的柔和雅致的微光一样。
　　“是的，”她说，“我的确想。”
　　“好啊，”特雷西利安夫人说，“好啊——”
　　她住了口。
　　“不过，当然了，”奥德丽说，“这件事完全由你来决定。这是你的房子，而且——”
　　特雷西利安夫人闭上了眼睛。
　　“我是个老太婆了，”她说，“什么事儿都已经无所谓了。”
　　“不过当然——我也愿意换个其他时间来。我任何时候都可以的。”
　　“你就像以往一样还是九月份来吧，”特雷西利安夫人厉声说道，“内维尔和凯也会过来。虽说我老了，但我想我也能像其他任何人一样，让自己去适应世事的变迁。不用再说别的了，就这么定了。”
　　她再次闭上了双眼。过了一小会儿，她眯起眼睛盯着这个坐在她床边的年轻女子，说道：“好了，如你所愿了吧？”
　　奥德丽吃了一惊。
　　“噢，是啊，是啊。谢谢你。”
　　“亲爱的，”特雷西利安夫人说，语调深沉而关切，“你确定这么做不会受到伤害吗？你也清楚，你那么深深地爱着内维尔。这样一来会揭开你的旧伤疤的。”
　　奥德丽垂下了头，看着自己戴着手套的小手。特雷西利安夫人注意到，其中一只紧紧地抓着床沿。
　　奥德丽抬起头来。她的眼神平静而不为所动。
　　她说：“所有那些现在都已经过去了。完全过去了。”
　　特雷西利安夫人重重地靠回了她的靠枕上。“好吧，你自己心里有数。我累了——亲爱的，你现在得走了。玛丽正在楼下等你。告诉她们叫芭雷特上来。”
　　芭雷特是特雷西利安夫人忠心耿耿的老女仆。她进来的时候发现她的女主人正闭着眼睛躺在那里。
　　“我真是越早升天越好啊，芭雷特，”特雷西利安夫人说，“这世界上的一切我都无法理解了。”
　　“啊！可千万别这么说，夫人，您太累了。”
　　“是啊，我太累了。把那床鸭绒被从我脚上挪开，再给我拿一剂我的补药来。”
　　“是因为斯特兰奇太太来了才搅得你心烦意乱的。一位挺迷人的女士，但我得说，她还真应该来点儿补药才是。不健康啊。看上去仿佛总是一副众人皆醉我独醒的样子。不过她够有个性的。可以这么说吧，就是总能让人感觉到她的存在。”
　　“太对了，芭雷特，”特雷西利安夫人说道，“没错，你说得太对了。”
　　“而且她也不是那种你会轻易忘记的人。我常常在想，内维尔先生有时候会不会想起她。新任斯特兰奇太太非常漂亮——真的非常漂亮——但奥德丽小姐是那种当她不在的时候你会想起来的人。”
　　特雷西利安夫人突然轻声低笑着说道：
　　“内维尔这个傻瓜，还想着要把那两个女人凑到一起去。他会为此后悔的！”
May 29th.
　　May 29th.
　　Thomas Royde, pipe in mouth, was surveying the progress of his packing, with which the deft-fingered Malayan No.1 boy was busy. Occasionally his glance shifted to the view over the plantations. For some six months he would not see that view which had been so familiar for the past seven years.
　　It would be queer to be in England again.
　　Allen Drake, his partner, looked in.
　　"Hullo, Thomas, how goes it?"
　　"All set now."
　　"Come and have a drink, you lucky devil. I'm consumed with envy."Thomas Royde moved slowly out of the bedroom and joined his friend. He did not speak, for Thomas Royde was a man singularly economical of words. His friends had learned to gauge his reactions correctly from the quality of his silences.
　　A rather thickset figure, with a straight, solemn face and observant, thoughtful eyes. He walked a little sideways, crab-like. This, the result of being jammed in a door during an earthquake, had contributed towards his nickname of the Hermit Crab. It had left his right arm and shoulder partially helpless, which, added to an artificial stiffness of gait, often led people to think he was feeling shy and awkward when in reality he seldom felt anything of the kind.
　　Allen Drake mixed the drinks.
　　"Well," he said. "Good hunting!"
　　Royde said something that sounded like "Ah, hum."Drake looked at him curiously.
　　"Phlegmatic as ever," he remarked. "Don't know how you manage it. How long is it since you went home?""Seven years - nearer eight."
　　"It's a long time. Wonder you haven't gone completely native.""Perhaps I have."
　　"You always did belong to Our Dumb Friends rather to the human race! Planned out your leave?""Well- yes- partly."
　　The bronze, impassive face took a sudden and a deeper brick-red tinge.
　　Allen Drake said with lively astonishment: "I believe there's a girl! Damn it all, you are blushing!"Thomas Royde said rather huskily: "Don't be a fool!"And he drew very hard on his ancient pipe.
　　He broke all previous records by continuing the conversation himself.
　　"Dare say," he said, "I shall find things a bit changed."Allen Drake said curiously: "I've always wondered why you chucked going home last time. Right at the last minute, too."Royde shrugged his shoulders.
　　"Thought that shooting trip might be interesting. Bad news from home about then.""Of course, I forgot. Your brother was killed - in that motoring accident."Thomas Royde nodded.
　　Drake reflected that, all the same, it seemed a curious reason for putting off a journey home. There was a mother - he believed, a sister also. Surely at such a time - then he remembered something. Thomas had cancelled his passage before the news of his brother's death arrived.
　　Allen looked at his friend curiously. Dark horse, old Thomas!
　　After a lapse of three years he could ask: "You and your brother great pals?""Adrian and I? Not particularly. Each of us always went his own way. He was a barrister.""Yes," thought Drake, "a very different life. Chambers in London, parties - a living earned by the shrewd use of the tongue." He reflected that Adrian Royde must have been a very different chap from old Silent Thomas.
　　"Your mother's alive, isn't she?"
　　"The mater? Yes."
　　"And you've got a sister, too."
　　Thomas shook his head.
　　"Oh, I thought you had. In that snapshot -"Royde mumbled. "Not a sister. Sort of distant cousin or something. Brought up with us because she was an orphan."Once more a slow tide of colour suffused the bronzed skin.
　　Drake thought, "Hello-o-?"
　　He said: "Is she married?"
　　"She was. Married that fellow Nevile Strange.""Fellow who plays tennis and racquets and all that?""Yes. She divorced him."
　　"And you're going home to try your luck with her," thought Drake.
　　Mercifully he changed the subject of the conversation.
　　"Going to get any fishing or shooting?"
　　"Shall go home first. Then I thought of doing a bit of sailing down at Saltcreek.""I know it. Attractive little place. Rather a decent old-fashioned hotel there.""Yes. The Balmoral Court. May stay there, or may put up with friends who've got a house there.""Sounds all right to me."
　　"Ah, hum. Nice peaceful place, Saltcreek. Nobody to hustle you.""I know," said Drake. "The kind of place where nothing ever happens."
五月二十九日
　　五月二十九日
　　托马斯•罗伊德叼着烟斗，正审视着那个一流的马来亚男仆用灵巧的双手打包他的行李。他的目光偶尔会扫一眼种植园里的风景。过去的七年中，他对这片风景已经熟稔于心，而马上他将有差不多六个月的时间看不到它了。
　　重返英格兰给人的感觉有些古怪。
　　他的同伴艾伦•德雷克往里看了一眼。
　　“哎，托马斯，收拾得怎么样啦？”
　　“一切就绪。”
　　“来喝一杯吧，你这个幸运的家伙。我羡慕死你了。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德缓步踱出了卧室，来到他朋友身边。他一言未发，因为托马斯•罗伊德是个格外惜字如金的人。他的朋友们已经学会了如何从他不同的沉默中正确解读出他的反应的本领。
　　他体格粗壮，有一张率直而严肃的脸和一双敏锐而沉重的眼睛，走起路来稍稍偏向一边，就像一只螃蟹。这是在一场地震中被门卡住的结果，而他也由此得了个“螃蟹隐士”的绰号。那次事故让他的右臂和肩膀有些不听使唤，加上走路姿势是那种不自然的僵硬，常常让人们以为他感到害羞和尴尬，而实际上他很少会有这类感觉。
　　艾伦•德雷克调好了酒。
　　“好吧，”他说，“一路顺风！”
　　罗伊德说了句什么，听上去像是“嗯哼”。
　　德雷克好奇地看着他。
　　“还是一如既往的冷静啊，”他说道，“真不知道你是怎么做到的。距离你上次回家有多久了？”
　　“七年——将近八年。”
　　“好久了。真奇怪你还没能完全地入乡随俗。”
　　“或许已经是了。”
　　“你总是跟大多数人不一样，那么沉默寡言！为这次假期做好安排啦？”
　　“呃……是……差不多吧。”
　　那张面无表情的古铜色的脸上突然染上了一层更深的砖红色。
　　艾伦•德雷克带着强烈的惊讶说道：
　　“我猜是为了个姑娘！他妈的，你脸都红了！”
　　托马斯•罗伊德声音有些沙哑地说道：“别瞎猜！”
　　他猛吸了几口他那个古老的烟斗。
　　然后，他又一反常态，接着自己的话说了下去。
　　“也许，”他说，“回去以后我会发现情况有了点儿变化。”
　　艾伦•德雷克好奇地说：
　　“我一直都纳闷儿上次你为什么说不回去就不回去了。还恰好是在最后关头改了主意。”
　　罗伊德耸耸肩膀。
　　“本来想着回去打打猎可能不错。但就在那时，从家里传来了坏消息。”
　　“对了。我忘了。你弟弟死了——在那次车祸里。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德点点头。
　　尽管如此，德雷克还是认为因为这个原因就推迟回家的行程有些奇怪。家中有个母亲——他相信还有个妹妹。当然在那种时候——接着他想起了什么。托马斯是在他弟弟的死讯传来之前就取消了行程的。
　　艾伦难以理解地看着他的朋友。托马斯这个老家伙，真是出人意料！
　　如今事情已经过了三年，他可以开口问了：
　　“你和你弟弟关系很亲近吗？”
　　“艾德里安和我？也不是特别亲。我们俩总是各走各的路。他是个大律师。”
　　“是啊，”德雷克心想，“截然不同的生活。伦敦的事务所，社交聚会——全凭三寸不烂之舌来谋生。”他认为艾德里安•罗伊德肯定跟沉默的老托马斯有着天壤之别。
　　“你母亲还健在，是吧？”“我妈妈？没错。”
　　“你还有个妹妹？”
　　托马斯摇了摇头。
　　“哦，我以为你有呢。在那张快照里——”
　　罗伊德咕哝道：“不算是妹妹。是个远房表亲之类的。她跟我们一起长大，因为她是孤儿。”
　　那古铜色的脸上再一次漫上了红晕。
　　德雷克暗想，“喔哦——”
　　“她结婚了吗？”
　　“结了。嫁给了一个叫内维尔•斯特兰奇的家伙。”“是那个打网球什么的家伙吗？”
　　“没错。她又跟他离婚了。”
　　“而你打算回家去碰碰运气。”德雷克想。
　　他很识趣地改变了话题。
　　“打算去钓钓鱼还是打打猎？”
　　“我得先回家。然后我想在盐溪玩玩漂流。”
　　“我知道那儿。迷人的小地方。还有个像模像样的老式旅店呢。”
　　“是啊。叫巴尔莫勒尔宅邸。我有可能住在那儿，或者也可能在我那些有房子的朋友家将就一下。”
　　“听起来挺不错的。”
　　“嗯哼。盐溪是个宁静而令人愉快的地方。没人会催你。”
　　“我明白，”德雷克说，“是那种什么事儿都不会发生的地方。”
May 29th.
　　May 29th.
　　"It is really most annoying," said old Mr. Treves, "For twenty-five years now I have been to the Marine Hotel at Leahead - and now, would you believe it, the whole place is being pulled down. Widening the front or some nonsense of that kind. Why they can't let these seaside places alone - Leahead always had a peculiar charm of its own - Regency - pure Regency."Rufus Lord said consolingly: "Still, there are other places to stay there, I suppose?""I really don't feel, I can go to Leahead at all. At the Marine, Mrs. Mackay understood my requirements perfectly. I had the same rooms every year - and there was hardly ever a change in the service. And the cooking was excellent -quite excellent.""What about trying Saltcreek? There's rather a nice old-fashioned hotel there. The Balmoral Court. Tell you who keeps it. Couple of the name of Rogers. She used be cook to old Lord Mounthead - he had the best dinners in London. She married the butler and they run this hotel now. It sounds to me just your kind of place. Quiet - none of these jazz bands - and first-class cooking and service.""It's an idea - it's certainly an idea. Is there a sheltered terrace?""Yes - a covered-in verandah and a terrace beyond. You can get sun or shade as you prefer. I can give you some introductions in the neighbourhood, too, if you like. There's old Lady Tressilian - she lives almost next door. A charming house and she herself is a delightful woman in spite of bring very much of an invalid.""The judge's widow, do you mean?" "That's it.""I used to know Matthew Tressilian, and I think I've met her. A charming woman - though, of course, that's a long time ago. Saltcreek is near St. Loo, isn't it? I've several friends in that part of the world. Do you know, I really think Saltcreek is a very good idea? I shall write and get particulars. The middle of August is when I wish to go there - the middle of August to the middle of September. There is a garage for the car, I suppose? And my chauffeur?""Oh, yes. It's thoroughly up-to-date."
　　"Because, as you know, I have to be careful about walking uphill. I should prefer rooms on the ground floor, though I suppose there is a lift.""Oh, yes, all that sort of thing."
　　"It sounds," said Mr. Treves, "as though it would solve my problem perfectly. And I should enjoy renewing my acquaintance with Lady Tressilian."
五月二十九日
　　五月二十九日
　　“真是太让人生气了，”年迈的特里夫斯先生说道，“二十五年来，我一直都是入住丽海德的海洋酒店，而现在，你能相信吗，那儿整个被拆掉了。说是要扩大门面什么的，真是乱来。为什么他们就不能放过这些海滨地区呢？丽海德一向有它自身独特的魅力，摄政时期的风味，纯粹的摄政时期风味。”
　　鲁弗斯•洛德安慰他说道：
　　“我想，那儿总还有其他地方可以住吧？”
　　“我真的觉得我不能去丽海德了。在海洋酒店，麦凯太太对我的需求了如指掌。每年我都住同样的房间。他们的服务也是始终如一。而那里的厨师非常棒，真是棒极了。”
　　“到盐溪去试试看怎么样？那儿有一家相当不错的老式旅店，叫巴尔莫勒尔宅邸。告诉你是谁开的吧，是一对姓罗杰斯的夫妇。女主人以前是老蒙特海德爵士的厨子——他们家的宴会可是伦敦最好的。后来她嫁给了男管家，两个人现在开了这家旅店。在我看来，这种地方正合你意。安静——没有那些爵士乐队——烹调和服务还都是一流的。”
　　“这主意不错，无疑是个好主意。那儿有带遮挡的露台吗？”
　　“有啊，有一个带顶棚的游廊，外面还有一个露台。要晒太阳还是要乘凉随你选。你愿意的话我还可以给你介绍一些周围的邻居。有位特雷西利安老夫人——她几乎就住在隔壁。那栋房子很迷人，她也很讨人喜欢，虽说身体很不好吧。”
　　“你说的是法官的遗孀？”
　　“就是她。”
　　“我以前认识马修•特雷西利安，我觉得我也见过她。一个很迷人的女人——不过，当然啦，那是很久以前的事情了。盐溪离圣卢挺近的，是吗？我在那一片有一些朋友。你知道吗，我真的觉得去盐溪是个非常好的主意。我应该写封信去问问详细情况。我想在八月中旬去那儿——八月中旬到九月中旬。我猜那儿应该有车库吧？还有，我的私人司机怎么办？”
　　“哦，有的。那里的设施完全是最新的。”
　　“因为，你也知道，我必须得特别注意爬坡的事儿。尽管我猜那儿会有电梯，但我还是愿意选一楼的房间。”
　　“哦，都有，这些都不是问题。”
　　“听起来，”特里夫斯先生说，“似乎我的问题已经迎刃而解了。而我也很乐意跟特雷西利安夫人叙叙旧。”
July 28th.
　　July 28th.
　　Kay Strange, dressed in shorts and a canary-coloured woolly, was leaning forward watching the tennis players. It was the semi-final of the St. Loo tournament, men's singles, and Nevile was playing young Merrick, who was regarded as the coming star in the tennis firmament. His brilliance was undeniable - some of his serves quite un-returnable - but he occasionally struck a wild patch, when the older man's experience and court craft won the day.
　　The score was three-all in the final set.
　　Slipping on to a seat next to Kay, Ted Latimer observed in a lazy, ironic voice: "Devoted wife watches her husband slash his way to victory!"Kay started.
　　"How you startled me! I didn't know you were there.""I am always there. You should know that by this time."Ted Latimer was twenty-five and extremely good-looking - even though unsympathetic old colonels were wont to say of him: "Touch of the Dago!"He was dark and beautifully sunburnt and a wonderful dancer.
　　His dark eyes could be very eloquent, and he managed his voice with the assurance of an actor. Kay had known him since she was fifteen. They had oiled and sunned themselves at Juan les Pins, had danced together and played tennis together. They had been not only friends but allies.
　　Young Merrick was serving from the left-hand court. Nevile's return was unplayable, a superb shot to the extreme corner.
　　"Nevile's backhand is good," said Ted. "It's better than his forehand. Merrick's weak on the backhand and Nevile knows it. He's going to pound at it all he knows how."The game ended. "Four-three - Strange leads."He took the next game on his service. Young Merrick was hitting out wildly.
　　"Five-three."
　　"Good for Nevile," said Latimer.
　　And then the boy pulled himself together. His play became cautious. He varied the pace of his shots.
　　"He's got a head on him," said Ted. "And his footwork is first class. It's going to be a fight."Slowly the boy pulled up to five-all. They went to seven-all, and Merrick finally won the match at nine-seven.
　　Nevile came up to the net, grinning and shaking his head ruefully, to shake hands.
　　"Youth tells," said Ted Latimer. "Nineteen against thirty-three. But I can tell you the reason, Kay, why Nevile has never been actual championship class. He's too good a loser.""Nonsense."
　　"It isn't. Nevile, blast him, is always the complete good sportsman. I've never seen him lose his temper over losing a match.""Of course not," said Kay. "People don't.""Oh, yes, they do! We've all seen them. Tennis stars who give way to nerves -and who damn well snatch every advantage. But old Nevile - he's always ready to take the count and grin. Let the best man win, and all that. God, how I hate the public school spirit! Thank the Lord I never went to one."Kay turned her head.
　　"Being rather spiteful, aren't you?"
　　"Positively feline!"
　　"I wish you wouldn't make it so clear you don't like Nevile.""Why should I like him? He pinched my girl."His eyes lingered on her.
　　"I wasn't your girl. Circumstances forbade.""Quite so. Not even the proverbial tuppence a year between us.""Shut up. I fell in love with Nevile and married him -""And he's a jolly good fellow - and so say all of us!""Are you trying to annoy me?"
　　She turned her head as she asked the question. He smiled - and presently she returned his smile.
　　"How's the summer going, Kay?"
　　"So, so. Lovely yachting trip. I'm rather tired of all this tennis business.""How long have you got of it? Another month?""Yes. Then in September we go to Gull's Point for a fortnight.""I shall be at the Easterhead Bay Hotel," said Ted. "I've booked my room.""It's going to be a lovely party!" said Kay. "Nevile and I, and Nevile's Ex, and some Malayan planter who's home on leave.""That does sound hilarious!"
　　"And the dowdy cousin, of course. Slaving away round that unpleasant old woman - and she won't get anything for it, either, since the money comes to me and Nevile.""Perhaps," said Ted, "she doesn't know that?" "That would be rather funny," said Kay.
　　But she spoke absently. She stared down at the racquet she was twiddling in her hands. She caught her breath suddenly.
　　"Oh, Ted!"
　　"What's the matter, Sugar?"
　　"I don't know. It's just sometimes I get -I get cold feet! I get scared and feel queer.""That doesn't sound like you, Kay."
　　"It doesn't, does it? Anyway," she smiled rather uncertainly, "you'll be at the Easterhead Bay Hotel.""All according to plan."
　　When Kay met Nevile outside the changing rooms, he said: "I see the boy friend's arrived.""Ted?"
　　"Yes, the faithful dog - or faithful lizard might be more apt.""You don't like him, do you?"
　　"Oh, I don't mind him. If it amuses you to pull him around on a string -"He shrugged his shoulders.
　　Kay said: "I believe you're jealous."
　　"Of Latimer?" His surprise was genuine.
　　Kay said: "Ted's supposed to be very attractive.""I'm sure he is. He has that lithe South American charm.""You are jealous."
　　Nevile gave her arm a friendly squeeze.
　　"No, I'm not, Gorgeous. You can have your tame adorers - a whole court of them, if you like. I'm the man in possession, and possession is nine points of the law.""You're very sure of yourself," said Kay, with a slight pout.
　　"Of course. You and I are Fate. Fate let us meet. Fate brought us together. Do you remember when we met at Cannes and I was going on to Estoril and suddenly, when I got there, the first person I met was lovely Kay! I knew then that it was Fate - and that I couldn't escape.""It wasn't exactly Fate," said Kay. "It was me!" "What do you mean by 'it was me'?""Because it was! You see, I heard you say at Cannes you were going to Estoril, so I set to work on Mums and got her all worked up - and that's why the first person you saw when you got there was Kay."Nevile looked at her with a rather curious expression. He said slowly: "You never told me that before.""No, because it wouldn't have been good for you. It might have made you conceited! But I always have been good at planning. Things don't happen unless you make them! You call me a nitwit sometimes - but in my own way I'm quite clever. I make things happen. I have to plan a long way beforehand.""The brainwork must be intense." "It's all very well to laugh."Nevile said with a sudden curious bitterness: "Am I just beginning to understand the woman I've married? For Fate - read Kay!"Kay said: "You're not cross, are you, Nevile?"He said rather absently: "No - no, of course hot. I was just - thinking ..."
七月二十八日
　　七月二十八日
　　凯•斯特兰奇身穿短裤和淡黄色羊毛衫，正往前探身看着网球场上的两名选手。这是圣卢锦标赛的男子单打半决赛，内维尔迎战被视为网球界新星的年轻的梅里克。他的卓越才华无可否认——他的某些发球根本让人无法招架——不过偶尔当年长选手的经验和球艺占了上风的时候他也只能自认倒霉。
　　比赛到了最后一盘，比分是三比三平。
　　特德•拉蒂默神不知鬼不觉地坐到了凯身边的座位上，以一种慵懒的讽刺口吻评论道：
　　“忠实的妻子看着她的丈夫披荆斩棘，奋勇争先啊！”
　　凯吓了一跳。
　　“你可吓着我了。我都不知道你在这儿。”
　　“我总是伴你左右。这下你不就知道啦。”
　　特德•拉蒂默二十五岁，长相非常帅气——尽管那些抱有反感的老人家会对他说上一句：
　　“一股子外国佬味儿！”
　　他的皮肤被太阳晒成了漂亮的棕色，同时还是个舞场高手。
　　他乌黑的眼睛特别能传情达意，他还有意让自己的声音听上去有一种演员般的自信。
　　凯从十五岁起就认识他了。他们一起在朱安雷宾 [3] 抹防晒油晒太阳，一起跳舞，一起打网球。他们之间的关系不仅仅是朋友，而且还是盟友。
　　年轻的梅里克正在从左发球区发球。内维尔的回球十分刁钻，漂亮的一击直接打到了死角。
　　“内维尔的反手很棒，”特德说，“比他的正手强。梅里克的弱点就在反手，而内维尔知道这点。他会尽可能地攻击他的反手。”
　　这一局结束了。“四比三——斯特兰奇领先。”
　　下一局由他发球。年轻的梅里克击球不着边际，出界了。
　　“五比三。”
　　“内维尔打得不错。”拉蒂默说。
　　而接下来那个小伙子提起了精神。他开始打得小心谨慎，击球的速度也变化多端起来。
　　“他还挺有脑子的，”特德•拉蒂默说，“而且步法一流。这下子该有场恶战了。”
　　渐渐地，小伙子把比分追成了五比五平。然后他们又打成了七平，最终梅里克以九比七赢得了比赛。
　　内维尔来到网前，遗憾地摇摇头，微笑着和对方握了握手。
　　“年轻就是不一样啊，”特德•拉蒂默说，“十九岁对三十三岁。不过我可以告诉你原因，凯，为什么内维尔从来都没能真正成为冠军级别的选手。因为他实在是太不在意输赢了。”
　　“胡说八道。”
　　“真的。内维尔可一直都是个不折不扣的好球员。我从来没有见过他因为输掉比赛而发脾气。”
　　“当然没有，”凯说，“大家都不会啊。”
　　“这可不对，他们真的会发脾气。我们都见过。网球明星们会放任自己的紧张情绪流露出来——他们也会斤斤计较，每球必争。不过老内维尔嘛——他总是做好了微笑着输球的准备，谁厉害就让谁赢。老天爷，我是有多讨厌这种公学精神啊！谢天谢地我从来没上过这样的学校。”
　　凯转过头来。
　　“你这话也太刻毒了吧？”
　　“不错！”
　　“我希望你就算不喜欢内维尔也别这么露骨。”“我凭什么要喜欢他？他抢了我的姑娘。”
　　他的眼神停留在她身上。
　　“我不是你的姑娘。现实情况不允许。”
　　“可不是嘛。就连咱俩之间那点儿尽人皆知的事儿都一笔勾销啦。”“闭嘴吧。我是爱上了内维尔才嫁给他的。”
　　“而他可是个大好人——大家都这么说！”
　　“你这是故意要惹我生气吗？”
　　她一边问一边转过头来。他冲她微微一笑——她随即也以微笑回应。
　　“夏天过得怎么样啊，凯？”
　　“马马虎虎吧。美好的游艇之旅。但这些网球比赛让我有点儿厌烦了。”
　　“这个比赛还要打多久？再有一个月？”
　　“是的。然后在九月份我们要去海鸥角待两周。”
　　“我会住在复活节海湾酒店，”特德说，“我已经订好了房间。”
　　“这将是一次让人愉快的聚会！”凯说，“有内维尔和我，有内维尔的前妻，还有个回国度假的马来亚种植园主。”
　　“听起来还真够热闹的！”
　　“当然，还有那个土里土气的远房亲戚。累死累活地围着那个招人讨厌的老太太转——不过就算这样她也捞不着什么，因为钱最终得归我和内维尔。”
　　“或许，”特德说，“她并不知道这些？”
　　“那可就有意思了。”凯说。
　　不过她说这话的时候低着头，看着手里正在摆弄的网球拍，显得有点儿心不在焉。突然之间她倒吸了一口气。
　　“噢，特德！”
　　“怎么了，宝贝儿？”
　　“我也不知道。只是有时候我会觉得……觉得不寒而栗。我会有点儿害怕，感觉怪怪的。”
　　“这听起来可不像你啊，凯。”
　　“是不像我，对吗？反正不管怎么样，”她迟疑不决地微笑道，“你会住在复活节海湾酒店。”
　　“一切按计划进行。”
　　当凯在更衣室外面碰到内维尔的时候，他说：
　　“我看到你那个男朋友来了。”
　　“特德？”
　　“是啊，那条忠实的狗——或者说是忠实的小白脸更恰当。”
　　“你不喜欢他，是吗？”
　　“哦，我并不在乎他。你要是觉得把他玩弄于股掌之间能让你开心的话——”
　　他耸耸肩膀。
　　“我认为你是在吃醋。”
　　“吃拉蒂默的醋？”他看起来着实吃了一惊。
　　“特德应该还是魅力十足的。”
　　“确实。他有那种南美人的阴柔魅力。”
　　“你就是在吃醋。”
　　内维尔亲切地捏了她胳膊一下。
　　“不，我才不吃醋呢，小美人儿。你尽可以有你那些乏味无趣的崇拜者——你喜欢的话让他们坐满全场都没问题。而我才是拥有者，十拿九稳。”
　　“你倒是很自信啊。”凯微微噘起嘴说道。
　　“当然了。你和我这叫天意。是天意让咱们相遇。天意又让咱们走到了一起。你记不记得咱们在戛纳相识的时候我正要去埃什托里尔，而当我到那儿的时候突然发现第一个遇见的人又是漂亮迷人的凯！我那时候就知道这是命中注定——想逃都逃不了。”
　　“这也不完全是天意，”凯说，“是我！”
　　“你说‘是我’是什么意思？”
　　“因为就是我啊！你看，在戛纳的时候我听见你说你准备去埃什托里尔，我就开始给妈妈吹风，说得她也按捺不住了——这就是为什么你一到那里见到的第一个人就是凯。”
　　内维尔用一种有点儿奇怪的表情看着她，慢吞吞地说道：“你以前从来没有告诉过我。”
　　“是啊，因为告诉你对你也没什么好处。那可能会让你自鸣得意！不过我一直都很擅长做计划。事在人为嘛！你有时候爱管我叫小傻瓜，但按我自己的看法我还是相当聪明的。
　　我会促成事情的发生。有时候我不得不提前很久就制订计划。”
　　“动脑子的时候肯定很累。”
　　“你想笑就笑呗。”
　　内维尔突然带着一种令人不解的酸楚说道：
　　“我是不是才刚刚开始了解我所娶的这个女人呢？想知道天意——问问凯就可以！”
　　“你没真生气，对吧，内维尔？”
　　他有点儿漫不经心地说道：
　　“没有——没有，当然不会。我只是——在想……”
August 10th.
　　August 10th.
　　Lord Cornelly, that rich and eccentric peer, was sitting at the monumental desk which was his especial pride and pleasure. It had been designed for him at immense expense and the whole furnishing of the room was subordinated to it. The effect was terrific and only slightly marred by the unavoidable addition of Lord Cornelly himself, an insignificant and rotund little man completely dwarfed by the desk's magnificence.
　　Into this scene of City splendour there entered a blonde secretary, also in harmony with the luxury furnishings.
　　Gliding silently across the floor, she laid a slip of paper before the great man. Lord Cornelly peered down at it.
　　"MacWhirter? MacWhirter? Who's he? Never heard of him. Has he got an appointment?"The blonde secretary indicated that such was the case.
　　"MacWhirter, eh? Oh! MacWhirter! That fellow! Of course! Send him in. Send him in at once."Lord Cornelly chuckled gleefully. He was in high good-humour.
　　Throwing himself back in his chair, he stared up into the dour unsmiling face of the man he had summoned to an interview.
　　"You're MacWhirter, eh? Angus MacWhirter?" "That's my name."MacWhirter spoke stiffly, standing erect and unsmiling. "You were with Herbert Clay? That's right, isn't it?""Yes."
　　Lord Cornelly began to chuckle again.
　　"I know all about you. Clay got his driving-licence endorsed, all because you wouldn't back him up and swear he was going at twenty miles an hour! Livid about it, he was!" The chuckle increased. "Told us all about it in the Savoy Grill. That damned pig-headed Scot!' That's what he said! Went on and on. D'you know what I was thinking?""I have not the least idea."
　　MacWhirter's tone was repressive. Lord Cornelly took no notice. He was enjoying his remembrance of his own reactions.
　　"I thought to myself: ‘That's the kind of chap I could do with! Man who can't be bribed to tell lies.' You won't have to tell lies for me. I don't do my business that way. I go about the world looking for honest men - and there are damned few of them!"The little peer cackled with shrill laughter, his shrewd monkey-like face wrinkled with mirth. MacWhirter stood stolidly, not amused.
　　Lord Cornelly stopped laughing. His face became shrewd, alert. "If you want a job, MacWhirter, I've got one for you." "I could do with a job," said MacWhirter.
　　"It's an important job. It's a job that can only be given to a man with good qualifications - you've got those, all right - I've been into that - and to a man who can be trusted - absolutely."Lord Cornelly waited. MacWhirter did not speak. "Well, man, can I depend upon you absolutely?"MacWhirter said dryly: "You'll not know that from hearing me answer that of course you can."Lord Cornelly laughed.
　　"You'll do. You're the man I've been looking for. Do you know South America at all?"He went into details. Half an hour later MacWhirter stood on the pavement, a man who had landed an interesting and extremely well-paid job - and a job that promised a future.
　　Fate, after having frowned, had chosen to smile upon him. But he was in no mood to smile back. There was no exultation in him, though his sense of humour was grimly tickled when he thought back over the interview. There was a stern poetic justice in the fact that it was his former employer's diatribes against him that had actually got him his present advancement!
　　He was a fortunate man, he supposed. Not that he cared! He was willing to address himself to the task of living, not with enthusiasm, not even with pleasure, but in a methodical day-after-day spirit. Seven months ago he had attempted to take his own life; chance and nothing but chance had intervened, but he was not particularly grateful. True, he felt no present disposition to do away with himself. That phase was over for good. You could not, he admitted, take your life in cold blood. There had to be some extra fillip of despair, of grief, of desperation or of passion. You could not commit suicide merely because you felt that life was a dreary round of uninteresting happenings.
　　On the whole he was glad that his work would take him out of England. He was to sail for South America the end of September. The next few weeks he would be busy getting together certain equipment and being put in touch with the somewhat complicated ramifications of the business.
　　But there would be a week's leisure before he left the country. He wondered what he should do with that week. Stay in London? Go away?
　　An idea stirred nebulously in his brain. Saltcreek?
　　"I've a damned good mind to go down there," said MacWhirter to himself.
　　It would be, he thought, grimly amusing.
八月十日
　　八月十日
　　富有而古怪的贵族科内利勋爵正坐在那张特别令他感到自豪和愉悦的大书桌旁边。这张书桌是他花了大价钱请人专门设计的，连整个房间的陈设都成了它的陪衬。房间布置得很气派，唯一回避不了的瑕疵也就得算是科内利勋爵本人了，他是个胖乎乎的小个子男人，本就不太起眼，在那张大气书桌的映衬之下愈发显得像个小矮人。
　　在这富丽堂皇的场景中走进来一名金发女秘书，并且与身边奢华的家具摆设显得非常协调。
　　她悄然无声地穿过房间，将一张纸条摆在了这个大人物的面前。
　　科内利勋爵低头看着它。
　　“麦克沃特？麦克沃特？他是谁啊？我从来没听说过。他有预约吗？”
　　金发女秘书表示他预约过了。
　　“麦克沃特，嗯？哦！麦克沃特！是那家伙！当然了！叫他进来，马上叫他进来。”
　　科内利勋爵欣喜地暗笑着，他的心情好极了。
　　他猛地向后靠回椅背，眼睛盯着他刚刚叫进来面谈的这个男人那张冷冰冰、不苟言笑的脸。
　　“你就是麦克沃特，嗯？安格斯•麦克沃特？”
　　“对。”
　　麦克沃特站得笔直，一脸严肃，生硬地回答道。
　　“你原先是跟着赫伯特•克莱的？我说得没错吧？”
　　“是的。”
　　科内利勋爵又开始轻笑起来。
　　“我完全了解你的情况。克莱的驾驶执照被记了违章，就是因为你不肯替他说话，不肯发誓说他当时的时速是二十英里！这事儿可把他气坏了！”他越笑越起劲。“在萨沃伊烧烤店里他把这事儿的前前后后都讲给我们听了。‘那该死的拧种苏格兰人！’他就是这么说的！一遍一遍不停地说。你知道我是怎么想的吗？”
　　“一无所知。”
　　麦克沃特的语调很压抑。科内利勋爵却并未留意，能够回忆起自己当时的反应正让他觉得欣喜不已呢。
　　“我心里就想：‘这不正是我需要的那种人吗！那种不会被收买了之后去撒谎的人。’你不必为了我去扯谎。我办事不用那种方式。我满世界在找诚实的人--可这种人实在太少了！”
　　这个小个子贵族发出了尖利的笑声，他那张像猴子一样精明的脸上都笑出了皱纹。麦克沃特纹丝不动地站着，并没有被逗乐。
　　科内利勋爵收住了笑，他的脸变得精明而机敏。
　　“如果你想要一份差事的话，麦克沃特，我倒是可以给你一个。”
　　“我需要一份工作。”麦克沃特说。
　　“这是件重要任务。这项任务只能交给具有优秀素质的人，而你已经具备了所有那些素质。我很喜欢这一点，而且这个人还得能够绝对……信得过。”
　　科内利勋爵等待着。麦克沃特没有说话。
　　“好吧，老弟，我能够完全指望你吗？”
　　麦克沃特不动声色地说：
　　“就算我说当然能，你也没法确信。”
　　科内利勋爵哈哈大笑。
　　“你能胜任。你就是那个我一直在找的人。对于南美洲你了解吗？”
　　他开始讲述细节。半个小时以后，麦克沃特站在人行道上，他已经得到了一项既有趣报酬又极其优厚的任务--而且这项任务还可以给他一个光明的未来。
　　命运之神在几经辗转之后，终于选择向他投来了微笑。而他此时却没有心情报之以一笑。尽管一回想起这次面谈，他的幽默感就会讨厌地冒出来，让他忍俊不禁，但他也没有得意忘形。善恶终有报，事实上，也正是缘于前任雇主对他的讽刺谩骂才让这个机会来到了他的眼前！
　　他想自己还算是个走运的人。并不是说他在意这点！他乐意让自己专注于这项为了生计的任务，不带有热情，甚至也不为乐趣，而只是抱着一种日复一日按部就班的态度。七个月前，他曾经试图了结自己的生命；一个偶然--一个纯粹的偶然让这件事情节外生枝，然而他却并没有感到特别的庆幸。诚然，他现在已经不再想要自寻短见了。那个时期也已经一去不返了。他承认，人没法那么冷血地杀死自己。生活中总会有些额外的刺激，沮丧、悲伤、愤怒或者绝望。你不能仅仅因为感到生活在单调乏味地周而复始就去选择自杀了断。
　　总体来说，他很高兴这份工作会带他离开英国。他将在九月底乘船前往南美洲。接下来的几个星期他要忙于整理装备，并且还得了解一下这件差事将会产生的稍显复杂的后果。
　　不过在启程离开这个国家之前，他还会有一周的闲暇时间。他想要弄明白该怎么打发那一周的时间。是待在伦敦呢，还是去别的地方？
　　他的脑海中浮现出了一个朦胧的想法。
　　盐溪怎么样？
　　“我很想到那儿走一趟。”麦克沃特自言自语道。
　　他想，这也算得上是一种冷幽默了。
August 19th.
　　August 19th.
　　"And bang goes my holiday," said Superintendent Battle disgustedly.
　　Mrs. Battle was disappointed, but long years as the wife of a police officer had prepared her to take disappointments philosophically.
　　"Oh, well," she said, "it can't be helped. And I suppose it is an interesting case?""Not so that you'd notice it," said Superintendent Battle. "It's got the Foreign Office in a twitter - all those tall thin young men rushing about and saying 'Hush, Hush' here, there and everywhere. It'll straighten out easy though - and we shall save everybody's face. But it's not the kind of case I'd put in my Memoirs, supposing I was ever foolish enough to write any.""We could put our holiday off, I suppose -" began Mrs. Battle doubtfully, but her husband interrupted her decisively.
　　"Not a bit of it. You and the girls go off to Britlington - the rooms have been booked since March - pity to waste them. I tell you what I'll do - go down and spend a week with Jim when this blows over."Jim was Superintendent Battle's nephew. Inspector James Leach.
　　"Saltington's quite close to Easterhead Bay and Saltcreek," he went on. "I can get a bit of sea air and a dip in the briny."Mrs. Battle sniffed.
　　"More likely he'll rope you in to help him over a case!""They don't have any cases this time of the year - unless it's a woman who pinches a few six pennyworths from Woolworths. And, anyway, Jim's all right -he doesn't need his wits sharpening for him.""Oh, well," said Mrs. Battle. "I suppose it will work out all right, but it is disappointing.""These things are sent to try us," Superintendent Battle assured her.
八月十九日
　　八月十九日
　　“我的假期泡汤了。”巴特尔警司厌恶地说道。
　　巴特尔太太有些失望，不过作为一名警察的妻子，多年来她已经能够很冷静地对待这种失望之情了。
　　“哦，好吧，”她说，“那也没办法。我认为这应该是件有趣的案子吧？”
　　“并不像你想的那样，”巴特尔警司说，“这案子把外交部搞得团团转——所有那些个又高又瘦的年轻小伙子都在那儿上蹿下跳，逢人就说要保密别声张。要收拾这个烂摊子再容易不过了——但我们得保全每个人的面子。不过这种案子我可不会把它写进我的回忆录，我是说假如我会蠢到写那玩意儿的话。”
　　“我想，我们可以推迟假期——”巴特尔太太犹豫不决地说道，但是她丈夫果断地打断了她的话。
　　“根本不用。你和姑娘们到布里特灵顿去——三月份的时候我就把房间订好了，浪费了太可惜。而我的打算呢，告诉你吧——等这件事情平息了以后，我就到吉姆那儿去待上一周。”
　　吉姆就是詹姆士•利奇督察，他是巴特尔警司的外甥。
　　“索廷顿离复活节海湾和盐溪都相当近，”他继续说道，“我可以去吹吹海风，洗洗海澡。”
　　巴特尔太太对此不以为然。
　　“更大的可能是他把你拉去帮他破个案子什么的！”
　　“每年的这个时候他们那儿都没什么案子——顶多也就是哪个女人从伍尔沃斯 [4] 顺点儿鸡毛蒜皮的东西罢了。而且不管怎么说，吉姆都挺不错的——他的脑筋不需要再开窍了。”
　　“哦，好吧，”巴特尔太太说，“我希望一切顺利，不过还是有点儿失望。”
　　“这些事儿是用来考验我们的。”巴特尔警司向她保证道。
　　[1]英格兰东南部肯特郡的首府。
　　[2]安姆弗雷的简称。
　　[3]法国著名的滨海旅游度假区。
　　[4]英国的百年零售老店。
Rose Red and Snow White（1）
Rose Red and Snow White
I
　　Thomas Royde found Mary Aldin waiting for him on the platform at Saltington when he got out of the train.
　　He had only a dim recollection of her, and now that he saw her again he was rather surprisingly aware of pleasure in her brisk, capable way of dealing with things.
　　She called him by his Christian name.
　　"How nice to see you, Thomas. After all these years.""Nice of you to put me up. Hope it isn't a bother.""Not at all. On the contrary. You'll be particularly welcome. Is that your porter? Tell him to bring the things out this way. I've got the car right at the end."The bags were stowed in the Ford. Mary took the wheel and Royde got in beside her. They drove off and Thomas noticed that she was a good driver, deft and careful in traffic and with a nice judgment of distance and spaces.
　　Saltington was seven miles from Saltcreek. Once they were out of the small market town and on the open road, Mary Aldin reopened the subject of his visit.
　　"Really, Thomas, your visit just now is going to be a God-send. Things are rather difficult, and a stranger - or partial stranger - is just what is needed.""What's the trouble?"
　　His manner, as always, was incurious - almost lazy. He asked the question, it seemed, more from politeness than because he had any desire for the information. It was a manner particularly soothing to Mary Aldin. She wanted badly to talk to someone - but she much preferred to talk to someone who was not too much interested.
　　She said: "Well - we've got rather a difficult position. Audrey is here, as you probably know?"She paused questioningly and Thomas Royde nodded.
　　"And Nevile and his wife also."
　　Thomas Royde's eyebrows went up. He said after a minute or two: "Bit awkward - what?""Yes, it is. It was all Nevile's idea."
　　She paused. Royde did not speak, but as though aware of some current of disbelief issuing from him, assertively: "It was Nevile's idea.""Why?"
　　She raised her hands for a moment from the steering-wheel.
　　"Oh, some modern reaction! All sensible and friends together. That idea. But I don't think, you know, it's working very well.""Possibly it mightn't." He added, "What's the new wife like?""Kay? Good-looking, of course. Really very good-looking. And quite young.""And Nevile's keen on her?"
　　"Oh, yes. Of course they've only been married a year."Thomas Royde turned his head slowly to look at her. His mouth smiled a little. Mary said hastily: "I didn't mean that, exactly.""Come, now, Mary. I think you did."
　　"Well, one can't help seeing that they've really got very little in common. Their friends, for instance -"She came to a stop.
　　Royde asked: "He met her, didn't he, on the Riviera? I don't know much about it. Only just the bare facts that the mater wrote.""Yes, they met first at Cannes. Nevile was attracted, but I should imagine he'd been attracted before - in a harmless sort of way. I still think myself that if he'd been left to himself nothing would have come of it. He was fond of Audrey, you know."Thomas nodded.
　　Mary went on: "I don't think he wanted to break up his marriage - I'm sure he didn't. But the girl was absolutely determined. She wouldn't rest until she'd got him to leave his wife - and what's a man to do in those circumstances? It flatters him, of course.""Head over ears in love with him, was she?""I suppose it may have been like that."
　　Mary's tone sounded doubtful. She met his inquiring glance with a flush.
　　"What a cat I am! There's a young man always hanging about - good-looking in a gigolo kind of way - an old friend of hers - and I can't help wondering sometimes whether the fact that Nevile is very well off and distinguished and all that didn't have something to do with it. The girl hadn't a penny of her own, I gather."She paused, looking rather ashamed. Thomas Royde merely said: "Um, hum," in a speculative voice.
　　"However," said Mary, "that's probably plain cat! The girl is what one would call glamorous - and that probably rouses the feline instincts of middle-aged spinsters."Royde. looked thoughtfully at her, but his poker face showed no recognisable reaction. He said, after a minute or two: "But what, exactly, is the present trouble about?""Really, you know, I haven't the least idea! That's what's so odd. Naturally we consulted Audrey first - and she seemed to have no feeling against meeting Kay -she was charming about it all. She has been charming. No one could have been nicer. Audrey, of course, in everything she does is always just right. Her manner to them both is perfect. She's very reserved, as you know, and one never has any idea of what she is really thinking or feeling - but honestly, I don't believe she minds at all.""No reason why she should," said Thomas Royde. He added, rather belatedly, "After all, it's three years ago.""Do people like Audrey forget? She was very fond of Nevile."Thomas Royde shifted in his seat.
　　"She's only thirty-two. Got her life in front of her.""Oh, I know. But she did take it hard. She had quite a bad nervous breakdown, you know.""I know. The mater wrote me."
　　"In a way," said Mary, "I think it was good for your mother to have Audrey to look after. It took her mind off her own grief - about your brother's death. We were so sorry about that.""Yes. Poor old Adrian. Always did drive too fast."There was a pause. Mary stretched out her hand as a sign she was taking the turn that led down the hill to Saltcreek. Presently, as they were slipping down the narrow twisting road, she said: "Thomas - you know Audrey very well?""So, so. Haven't seen much of her for the last ten years.""No, but you knew her as a child. She was like a sister to you and Adrian?"He nodded.
　　"Was she - was she at all unbalanced in any way? Oh, I don't mean that quite the way it sounds. But I've a feeling that there is something very wrong with her now. She's so completely detached, her poise is so unnaturally perfect - but I wonder sometimes what is going on behind the facade. I've a feeling, now and then, of some really powerful emotion. And I don't quite know what it is! But I do feel that she isn't normal. There's something! It worries me. I do know that there's an atmosphere in the house that affects everybody. We're all nervous and jumpy. But I don't know what it is. And sometimes, Thomas, it frightens me.""Frightens you?" His slow, wondering tone made her pull herself together with a little nervous laugh.
　　"It sounds absurd ... But that's what I meant just now - your arrival will be good for us - create a diversion. Ah, here we are."They had slipped round the last corner. Gull's Point was built on a plateau of rock overlooking the river. On two sides it had sheer cliff going down to the water. The gardens and tennis court were on the left of the house. The garage, a modern after-thought, was actually farther along the road, on the other side of it.
　　Mary said: "I'll put the car away now and come back. Hurstall will look after you."Hurstall, the aged butler, was greeting Thomas with the pleasure of an old friend.
　　"Very glad to see you, Mr. Royde, after all these years. And so will her ladyship be. You're in the east room, sir. I think you'll find everyone in the garden, unless you want to go to your room first."Thomas shook his head. He went through the drawing-room to the window, which opened on to the terrace. He stood there a moment, watching unobserved himself.
　　Two women were the only occupants of the terrace. One was sitting on the corner of the balustrade looking out over the water. The other woman was watching her.
　　The first was Audrey - the other, he knew, must be Kay Strange. Kay did not know she was being overlooked and she took no pains to disguise her expression. Thomas Royde was not, perhaps, a very observant man wherewomen were concerned, but he could not fail to notice that Kay Strange disliked Audrey Strange very much.
　　As for Audrey, she was looking out across the river and seemed unconscious of, or indifferent to, the other's presence.
　　It was seven years since Thomas had seen Audrey Strange. He studied her now very carefully. Had she changed, and, if so, in what way?
　　There was a change, he decided. She was thinner, paler, altogether more ethereal-looking - but there was something else, something he could not quite define. It was as though she were holding herself tightly in leash, watchful over every movement - and yet all the time intensely aware of everything going on round her. She was like a person, he thought, who had a secret to hide. But what secret? He knew a little of the events that had befallen her in the last few years. He had been prepared for lines of sorrow and loss - but this was something else. She was like a child who, by a tightly clenched hand over a treasure, calls attention to what it wants to hide.
　　And then his eyes went to the other woman - the girl who was now Nevile Strange's wife. Beautiful, yes. Mary Aldin had been right. He rather fancied dangerous, too. He thought: I wouldn't like to trust her near Audrey if she had a knife in her hand ... And yet, why should she hate Nevile's first wife? All that was over and done with. Audrey had no part or parcel in their lives nowadays.
　　Footsteps rang out on the terrace as Nevile came round the corner of the house. He looked warm and was carrying a picture paper. "Here's the Illustrated Review," he said. "Couldn't get the other -"Then two things happened at precisely the same minute.
　　Kay said: "Oh, good, give it to me," and Audrey, without moving her head, held out her hand almost absent-mindedly.
　　Nevile had stopped half-way between the two women. A dawn of embarrassment showed in his face. Before he could speak, Kay said, her voice rising with a slight note of hysteria, "I want it. Give it me! Give it me, Nevile!"Audrey Strange started, turned her head, withdrew her hand and murmured with just the slightest air of confusion : "Oh, sorry. I thought you were speaking to me, Nevile."Thomas Royde saw the colour come up brick-red in Nevile Strange's neck. He took three quick steps forward and held out the picture paper to Audrey.
　　She said, hesitating, her air of embarrassment growing: "Oh, but -"Kay pushed back her chair with a rough movement. She stood up, then, turning, she made for the drawing-room window. Royde had no time to move before she had charged into him blindly.
　　The shock made her recoil; she looked at him as he apologised. He saw then why she had not seen him; her eyes were brimming with tears - tears, he fancied, of anger.
　　"Hullo," she said. "Who are you? Oh! of course, the man from Malaya!" "Yes," said Thomas. "I'm the man from Malaya.""I wish to God I was in Malaya," said Kay. "Anywhere but here! I loathe this beastly, lousy house! I loathe everyone in it!"Emotional scenes always alarmed Thomas. He regarded Kay warily and murmured nervously: "Ah - hum.""Unless they're very careful," said Kay, "I shall kill someone! Either Nevile or that whey-faced cat out there!"She brushed past him and went out of the room, banging the door.
　　Thomas Royde stood stock still. He was not quite sure what to do next, but he was glad that young Mrs. Strange had gone. He stood and looked at the door that she had slammed so vigorously. Something of a tiger cat, the new Mrs. Strange.
　　The window was darkened as Nevile Strange paused in the space between the trench windows. He was breathing rather fast.
　　He greeted Thomas vaguely.
　　"Oh - er - hullo, Royde, didn't know you'd arrived. I say, have you seen my wife?""She passed through about a minute ago." said the other.
　　Nevile in his turn went out through the drawing-room door. He was looking annoyed.
　　Thomas Royde went slowly through the open window. He was not a heavy walker. Not until he was a couple of yards away did Audrey turn her head.
　　Then he saw those wide-apart eyes open wider, saw her lips part. She slipped down from the wall and came towards him, hands outstretched.
　　"Oh, Thomas," she said. "Dear Thomas! How glad I am you've come!"As he took the two small white hands in his and bent down to her Mary Aldin in her turn arrived at the French windows. Seeing the two on the terrace she checked herself, watched them for a moment or two, then slowly turned away and went back into the house.
白雪与红玫（1）
　　白雪与红玫
　　1
　　托马斯•罗伊德在索廷顿一下火车就发现玛丽•奥尔丁正在站台上等他。
　　他对她只存有些依稀的印象，而此时再见面，他颇为惊讶地发现她办起事情来干净利落，这让他很高兴。
　　她以他的教名称呼他。
　　“见到你真高兴，托马斯。过了这么多年了。”
　　“你们能帮我安排食宿实在是太好了。希望不会打扰你们。”
　　“哪儿的话，恰恰相反，我们都特别欢迎你来。那个是你的行李员吗？告诉他取上行李往这边走。我把车停在那头儿了。”
　　行李被装上了福特车。玛丽开车，罗伊德坐在她身边。他们驶离了车站，托马斯注意到她是个很不错的司机，在车流中穿梭时既灵巧又谨慎，同时对于距离和空间的判断也非常出色。
　　索廷顿距离盐溪有七英里。他们一离开那个小集镇开上大路，玛丽•奥尔丁就针对他的来访打开了话匣子。
　　“说真的，托马斯，你恰好在这个时候来可真是雪中送炭了。事情有点儿棘手——我们正好需要一个局外人，至少是部分意义上的局外人。”
　　“有什么麻烦事儿？”
　　他的态度一如既往地事不关己——几乎就是无精打采的。似乎他问这个问题，与其说是因为他有兴趣知道些消息，莫不如说是出于礼貌。而对于玛丽•奥尔丁来说，这种态度倒让她感到格外宽心。她太想找个人说说了——只不过她更愿意找一个对这件事没什么兴趣的人。
　　“呃……我们面临一个相当尴尬的局面。奥德丽在这儿，你可能也知道吧？”
　　她语带探询地停顿了一下，托马斯•罗伊德点了点头。
　　“而内维尔和他太太也在。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德的眉毛挑了起来。片刻之后他说道：“有点儿尴尬——嗯？”
　　“是有点儿尴尬。那是内维尔的主意。”
　　她说到这里住了口。罗伊德一言未发，不过仿佛是感觉到他流露出一些不相信的意思似的，她又斩钉截铁地重复道：“那真是内维尔的主意。”
　　“为什么？”
　　她把手从方向盘上抬起了一下。
　　“哦，某种新潮的应对方式！大家都通情达理，在一起还是朋友。就是这种理念。但你知道吗，我觉得这不太行得通。”
　　“或许是行不通，”接着他又问道，“他那位新太太是个什么样的人？”
　　“凯吗？很漂亮，那是当然的。当真非常漂亮，而且相当年轻。”
　　“内维尔很喜欢她？”
　　“噢，是的。当然了，他们结婚才刚刚一年。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德慢慢地扭过头去看着她，嘴上略带笑意。玛丽连忙说道：
　　“我并不是那个意思。”
　　“算了吧，玛丽。我觉得你就是那个意思。”
　　“好吧，你总是会禁不住意识到他们之间的共同之处真是太少了。比如说，他们的朋友吧——”她停了下来。
　　托马斯问道：
　　“他在里维埃拉认识她的，是吗？这件事我不太了解，只是从妈妈写的信里零星知道了一些。”
　　“没错，他们最初是在戛纳相识的。内维尔被迷住了，不过我能想象出来他以前也被迷住过——这无伤大雅。我自己仍然觉得假如当初能让他自己做主决定的话，那就什么都不会发生了。你也知道，他喜欢奥德丽。”
　　托马斯点点头。
　　玛丽继续说道：
　　“我觉得他并不想结束他的婚姻——我确信他不想。但那个姑娘却是铁了心。除非他离开他的妻子，否则她是不会善罢甘休的，而一个男人在那种情况下还能怎么办？当然啦，那也让他自己觉得有点儿飘飘然了。”
　　“她爱他爱得神魂颠倒，是吗？”
　　“我想应该是吧。”
　　玛丽的语气听上去有些拿不准。看着他探询的目光，她的脸刷的一下红了。
　　“我这是有多么居心叵测啊！有个年轻小伙子总围在她身边转悠，就像是那种长得挺好看专吃软饭的小白脸，那是她一个老朋友——而我有时候就会忍不住想，内维尔那么有钱，那么出类拔萃，这件事跟这些事实真的就一点儿关系都没有吗？据我所知，这个女孩自己过去可是一文不名的。”
　　她停了下来，看起来一脸惭愧。托马斯•罗伊德只是不置可否地嗯了一声。
　　“不管怎么样，”玛丽说，“这些可能都只是女人间的闲言碎语！那个女孩儿是那种你会称之为光彩照人的人，或许正因如此才激起了我这个中年老处女说闲话的本能吧。”
　　托马斯若有所思地看着她，不过从他那张扑克脸上看不出任何对此的反应来。过了片刻之后，他说：
　　“但目前的麻烦究竟是什么？”
　　“你知道吗，我其实真的一点儿头绪都没有！这才是最奇怪的地方。我们理所当然地先跟奥德丽商量过——而她看起来似乎并不反对跟凯会面——她对待这件事的方式很讨人喜欢。其实她一直以来就很讨人喜欢，没有谁能比她做得更好。当然了，奥德丽做任何事情都是恰到好处。她对待他们俩人的态度也无可挑剔。你也知道，她的性格很内敛，谁都没法了解她内心真正的想法和感受——不过说实话，我根本不相信她会在意这些。”
　　“她没有理由在意。”托马斯•罗伊德说。过了好一会儿，他又说道：“再怎么说，那也是三年前的事儿了。”
　　“像奥德丽那样的人会忘记吗？她是那么喜欢内维尔。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德在座椅里换了个姿势。
　　“她才三十二岁，来日方长呢。”
　　“噢，我明白。不过她当时真的是很伤心。你知道吗，她的精神整个都垮了。”
　　“我知道。我母亲写信告诉我了。”
　　“在某种意义上，”玛丽说道，“我觉得对于你母亲来说，有个奥德丽需要照顾是件好事。这可以让她从自己的悲痛——从你弟弟的死亡中走出来。我们对那件事都感到很难过。”
　　“是啊。可怜的艾德里安。总是开车开得太快。”
　　随之是一阵沉默。玛丽把手伸出窗外打着手势，示意她要拐上那条通往盐溪的下山路。
　　此刻，当他们沿着蜿蜒狭窄的道路下行时，她开口说道：
　　“托马斯——你很了解奥德丽吗？”
　　“还凑合吧。过去的十年里我都没怎么见过她。”
　　“是啊，不过她还是个孩子的时候你就认识她了。对于你和艾德里安来说，她就像姐妹一样吧？”
　　他点点头。
　　“她……她会不会在某些方面精神不太正常呢？噢，我指的可不完全是字面上的意思啊。不过我总觉得她现在有什么地方特别不对劲。她似乎是完全超然于世的，那种镇定自若的样子完美得都不自然了——而有时候我也会揣测她内心里究竟蕴藏着什么。时不时地我会感到某种真实存在的强烈情感，却又让我完全摸不着头脑！不过我就是觉得她不太正常。这里面肯定有什么文章！这事儿让我坐卧不宁。我能感受到屋子里有一种氛围，它会影响每个人。我们都变得神经兮兮，一惊一乍的。但我又不知道这种氛围是怎么一回事儿。而且有时候它会让我心惊肉跳，托马斯。”
　　“让你心惊肉跳？”他那种慢悠悠又带点儿疑惑的口气令她略显神经质地笑了笑，定了定神儿。
　　“听起来很荒唐……不过我刚刚说的就是这个意思——你来了对我们大家都有好处——可以转移一下我们的注意力。啊，我们到了。”
　　不知不觉间他们已经拐过了最后一道弯。海鸥角就建在一片俯瞰着下方河流的岩石平台之上。它的两边是悬崖峭壁，直插水中。花园和网球场位于房子的左侧。一个现代化的车库——那是后来加建的——在房子的另一边，实际上位于路的尽头。
　　玛丽说：“我先去把车停好以后再回来。赫尔斯多会照管你的。”
　　赫尔斯多是年长的男管家，他就像见到老朋友一样高兴地和托马斯打着招呼。
　　“见到您太高兴了，罗伊德先生，都过了这么多年了。老夫人也会非常高兴的。先生，您住在东边的房间里。我想大家都在花园里呢，还是说您想先去您的房间？”
　　托马斯摇了摇头。他穿过客厅来到落地窗前，窗子开着，外面就是露台。他在那儿站了片刻，看着外面，没有人注意到他。
　　露台上只有两个女人。其中一个坐在围墙的拐角处，向外望着下面的河水。另一个则在望着她。
　　前一个是奥德丽——而后一个，他知道肯定是凯•斯特兰奇。凯不知道有人在看着她，所以丝毫没有掩饰脸上的神情。或许在关于女人的问题上，托马斯•罗伊德并不是一个观察力敏锐的人，不过他还是可以毫无疑义地注意到，凯•斯特兰奇极其厌恶奥德丽•斯特兰奇。
　　而奥德丽的视线就那样望出去，越过河面，对于另一个人的存在，她似乎浑然不觉，或者根本就是熟视无睹。
　　托马斯上一次见到奥德丽还是在七年前。此时他非常仔细地打量着奥德丽。她有变化吗？如果变了，又是在哪方面呢？
　　他认定她确实发生了些变化。她变得瘦了些，脸色更苍白了，整个人看起来更加轻灵缥缈——不过除此之外还有别的，那是他说不太清楚的东西。她仿佛在极力压制着自己，每一个举动都小心翼翼，但又无时无刻不在密切关注着她身边发生的一切。他想，她像个需要隐藏什么秘密的人。但那又是什么秘密呢？对于过去几年中她的遭遇他算是略知一二。他本来已经准备好要听到她说出些悲伤和失落的话语——但却远不是那么回事儿。她就跟个孩子似的，手里紧紧攥着一件宝贝——让人没法不去注意她想要藏起来的东西。
　　然后他把目光转向了另一个女人——那个现在已经是内维尔•斯特兰奇的妻子的姑娘。
　　是啊，非常漂亮。玛丽•奥尔丁说得一点没错。不过他也感觉到了一种危险。他想：假如她手里拿着一把刀的话，我可不会放心地让她去靠近奥德丽……然而，她为什么要恨内维尔的前妻呢？那一切都已经是过去的事情了。奥德丽和他们如今的生活已经毫无瓜葛了啊。这时露台上响起了脚步声，内维尔绕过房子的转角处走了过来。他看上去热情洋溢，手里拿着一份画报。
　　“这是那份《时评画刊》，”他说道，“找不到另一份——”
　　接着，两个动作不约而同地发生了。
　　凯说：“噢，好啊，把它给我。”而奥德丽根本没有回头，几乎是漫不经心地把她的手伸了出来。
　　内维尔愣在两个女人中间，脸上现出几分尴尬。就在他开口之前，凯提高了嗓门说话，声音中夹带着一点点歇斯底里，“我要看，给我！给我啊，内维尔！”
　　奥德丽•斯特兰奇吃了一惊，她收回手转过头来，脸上带着一种若有似无的不知所措，低声说道：
　　“哦，真抱歉。我还以为你在跟我说话呢，内维尔。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德看到内维尔•斯特兰奇的脖子都变成了砖红色。他向前紧走三步，将画报递给了奥德丽。
　　这下子，她那种尴尬的神情愈发明显，支支吾吾地说道：
　　“噢，可是——”
　　凯把她的椅子粗暴地向后一推站了起来，接着就朝客厅的落地窗走去。托马斯还没来得及让开，她就和他撞了个满怀。
　　这一撞让她不由得后退了一步；他连声道歉的时候她抬眼看着他。于是他明白了她为什么没有看见他，泪水盈满了她的眼眶——他想，那是愤怒的泪水。
　　“嗨，”她说，“你是谁啊？噢，当然啦，你是那个从马来亚来的人！”
　　“是的，”托马斯说，“我就是那个从马来亚来的人。”
　　“我真希望自己现在就在马来亚，”凯说，“只要不是这儿，任何地方都好！我恨透了这所让人恶心的讨厌的房子！我恨透了这所房子里的每一个人！”
　　这种情绪激动的场景总是会为托马斯敲响警钟。他警惕地看着凯，紧张地咕哝道：
　　“啊——嗯。”
　　“除非他们打起十二万分的小心，”凯说，“不然我可要杀人了！不是内维尔就是外头那个面无血色的毒妇！”
　　她与他擦肩而过，走出了房间，砰的一声摔上了门。
　　托马斯•罗伊德站在那里一动没动。他不太确定接下来该干些什么，不过他很高兴年轻的斯特兰奇太太已经走了。他就这样站着，眼睛瞅着她刚刚那么拼命撞上的门。这个新任的斯特兰奇太太，真是只母老虎。
　　落地窗外的光线一暗，内维尔•斯特兰奇出现在敞开的两扇玻璃之间。他的呼吸有些急促。
　　他心不在焉地和托马斯打了个招呼。
　　“噢——呃——嗨，罗伊德，都不知道你已经到了。我说，你看见我太太了吗？”
　　“她刚刚从这儿过去。”另一个人回答。
　　内维尔紧跟着也从客厅的门走了出去。他看起来一肚子火气。
　　托马斯•罗伊德缓缓地穿过敞开的落地窗。他不是个走路脚步很重的人，所以直到他来到距离奥德丽只有几码远的地方她才回过头来。
　　接着他看到那对分得很开的眼睛睁得更大了，他看到她的嘴也张开了。她从围栏上滑下来，伸开双手向他走来。
　　“哦，托马斯，”她说，“亲爱的托马斯！你来了我有多开心啊。”
　　就在他将那两只雪白的小手握在自己手中，并向她俯下身去的时候，玛丽•奥尔丁也走到了落地窗前。看见露台上的那两个人之后她停住了脚步，注视了他们片刻后，她慢慢转过身走回了屋里。
Rose Red and Snow White（3）
　　III
　　"You look exactly as you did at seventeen, Thomas Royde," said Lady Tressilian. "Just the same owlish look. And no more conversation now than you had then. Why not?"Thomas said vaguely: "I dunno. Never had the gift of the gab." "Not like Adrian. Adrian was a very clever and witty talker." "Perhaps that's why. Always left the talking to him." "Poor Adrian. So much promise." Thomas nodded.
　　Lady Tressilian changed the subject. She was granting an audience to Thomas. She usually preferred her visitors one at a time. It did not tire her and she was able to concentrate her attention on them.
　　"You've been here twenty-four hours," she said. "What do you think of our Situation?""Situation?"
　　"Don't look stupid. You do that deliberately. You know quite well what I mean. The eternal triangle which has established itself under my roof."Thomas said cautiously: "Seems a bit of friction." Lady Tressilian smiled rather diabolically.
　　"I will confess to you, Thomas, I am rather enjoying myself. This came about through no wish of mine - indeed, I did my utmost to prevent it. Nevile was obstinate. He would insist on bringing these two together - and now he is reaping what he has sown!"Thomas Royde shifted a little in his chair.
　　"Seems funny," he said.
　　"Elucidate," snapped Lady Tressilian.
　　"Shouldn't have thought Strange was that kind of chap.""It's interesting your saying that. Because it is what I felt. It was uncharacteristic of Nevile. Nevile, like most men, is usually anxious to avoid any kind of embarrassment or possible unpleasantness. I suspected that it wasn't originally Nevile's idea - but, if not, I don't see whose idea it can have been." She paused and said with only the slightest upward inflexion: "It wouldn't be Audrey's?"Thomas said promptly: "No, not Audrey's.""And I can hardly believe it was that unfortunate young woman, Kay's, idea. Not unless she is a really remarkable actress. You know, I have almost felt sorry for her lately.""You don't like her much, do you?"
　　"No. She seems to me empty-headed and lacking in any kind of poise. But, as I say, I do begin to feel sorry for her. She is blundering about like a daddy-longlegs in lamp-light. She has no idea of what weapons to use. Bad temper, bad manners, childish rudeness - all things which have a most unfortunate-effect upon a man like Nevile."Thomas said quietly: "I think Audrey is the one who is in a difficult position."Lady Tressilian gave him a sharp glance.
　　"You've always been in love with Audrey, haven't you, Thomas?"His reply was quite imperturbable. "Suppose I have.""Practically from the time you were children together?"He nodded.
　　"And then Nevile came along and carried her off from under your nose?"He moved uneasily in his chair.
　　"Oh, well -I always knew I hadn't a chance.""Defeatist," said Lady Tressilian.
　　"I always have been a dull dog."
　　"Dobbin!"
　　"Good old Thomas! - that's what Audrey feels about me.""‘True Thomas,'" said Lady Tressilian. "That was your nickname, wasn't it?"He smiled as the words brought back memories of childish days. "Funny! I haven't heard that for years.""It might stand you in good stead now," said Lady Tressilian. She met his glance clearly and deliberately.
　　"Fidelity," she said, "is a quality that anyone who has been through Audrey's experience might appreciate. The dog-like devotion of a lifetime, Thomas, does sometimes get its reward."Thomas Royde looked down, his fingers fumbled with a pipe.
　　"That," he said, "is what I came home hoping."
白雪与红玫（2）
　　2
　　内维尔在楼上凯的卧室里找到了她。这栋房子里唯一一间较大的能住下两个人的房间是属于特雷西利安夫人的。已婚夫妇通常被安排住在房子西侧的两个房间里，有门相通，还带有一间小浴室。那是一套独立的小套房。
　　内维尔穿过自己的房间，进了他太太的卧室。凯扑倒在自己的床上。她抬起泪迹斑斑的脸，气冲冲地向他喊道：
　　“你可来了！也早该来了！”
　　“闹出这么大动静到底为了什么啊？你疯了吧，凯？”
　　内维尔说话的时候很平静，不过在他鼻孔旁的拐角处可以看出一道凹痕，那表明他正克制着自己的怒气。
　　“你为什么把那本《时评画刊》给她而不给我？”
　　“凯，你可真是个孩子！大吵大闹的就为了一本小破画报啊。”
　　“你给了她，没给我。”凯执拗地重复道。
　　“好啊，为什么不能给她呢？这有什么关系吗？”
　　“对我来说有关系。”
　　“我搞不懂你这是在发什么疯。你待在别人家里的时候可不能表现得这么歇斯底里。你难道不知道在大庭广众之下应该怎么做吗？”
　　“你为什么把画报给了奥德丽？”
　　“因为她想要。”
　　“我也想要，而我是你太太。”
　　“如果是那样的话，从道理上来讲，就更应该给年长并且从法律意义上来说跟我没有关系的女人了。”
　　“她让我出洋相了！她就想要这样，而且还得逞了。你还向着她！”
　　“你现在说起话来就像个醋意大发的傻孩子。看在老天爷的分上，控制一下你自己，努力在大家面前举止得体一些吧！”
　　“我想，你是说像她那样吧？”
　　内维尔冷冷地说道：“不管怎么说，奥德丽能表现得像个淑女。她可不会当众出丑。”
　　“她就是要让你和我作对！她恨我，她在报复。”
　　“听我说，凯，你别再这么耸人听闻，像个彻头彻尾的傻子了好不好？我已经够烦的了！”
　　“那我们离开这儿！明天就走。我恨这个地方！”
　　“我们才来了四天。”
　　“那也待够了！我们走吧，内维尔。”
　　“你听好了，凯，我已经受够了这些。我们来这里是打算待两个星期的，我就准备在这儿待上两个星期。”
　　“如果你待上两个星期，”凯说，“你会后悔的。你还有你的奥德丽！你觉得她真是好极了！”
　　“我没觉得奥德丽好极了。我认为她是个极其亲切而且友好的人，我以前亏待了她，而她却是那么宽宏大量不计前嫌。”
　　“这你就说错了。”凯说。她从床上站起身来，愤怒已经渐渐平息。她说话的声音一本正经——几乎可以说是很严肃。
　　“奥德丽还没原谅你呢，内维尔。有那么一两次我看到她在看着你……我不知道她心里在想什么，但肯定有什么——她是那种不会让任何人知道她内心想法的人。”
　　“真遗憾，”内维尔说，“那样的人可不多见啊。”
　　凯的脸色变得惨白。
　　“你这话是说给我听的吗？”她的声音中透出几分危险的味道。
　　“是啊——你可没表现出什么含蓄，对吗？你心里哪怕是有一丁点儿坏脾气或者怨气你都要直接说出口来。自己丢人不算，还让我跟着一起丢人！”
　　“还有什么要说的吗？”
　　她的声音冷冰冰的。
　　他用同样冷冰冰的声音说道：
　　“如果你觉得我这样说你不公平，那我很抱歉。不过事实就摆在眼前。你的自制力跟小孩子比也强不到哪儿去。”
　　“你从来不会大发脾气，对吗？你总能做一个既有自制力又风度翩翩的正人君子！我不信你会有任何的情绪和感情。你就是个蠢货——一个冷血的蠢货！你为什么不能时不时地也发泄一下？你干吗不冲着我大喊大叫，吼我骂我，让我去死呢？”
　　内维尔叹了口气，肩膀也耷拉了下来。
　　“噢，上帝啊。”他说。
　　他拂袖转身，离开了房间。
Rose Red and Snow White（6）
　　VI
　　Lady Tressilian received Mr. Treves with evident pleasure.
　　He and she were soon deep in an agreeable flood of reminiscences and a recalling of mutual acquaintances.
　　At the end of half an hour Lady Tressilian gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.
　　"Ah," she said, "I've enjoyed myself! There's nothing like exchanging gossip and remembering old scandals.""A little malice," agreed Mr. Treves, "adds a certain savour to life.""By the way," said Lady Tressilian, "what do you dunk of our example of the eternal triangle?"Mr. Treves looked discreetly blank. "Er - what triangle?""Don't tell me you haven't noticed it! Nevile and his wives.""Oh, that! The present Mrs. Strange is a singularly attractive young woman.""So is Audrey," said Lady Tressilian.
　　Mr. Treves admitted : "She has charm - yes."Lady Tressilian exclaimed: "Do you mean to tell me you can understand a man leaving Audrey, who is a - a person of rare quality, for - for a Kay?"Mr. Treves replied calmly: "Perfectly. It happens frequently.""Disgusting. I should soon grow tired of Kay if I were a man and wish I had never made such a fool of myself!""That also happens frequently. These sudden passionate infatuations," said Mr. Treves, looking very passionless and precise himself, "are seldom of long duration.""And then what happens?" demanded Lady Tressilian.
　　"Usually," said Mr. Treves, "the - er - parties adjust themselves. Quite often there is a second divorce. The man then marries a third party - someone of a sympathetic nature.""Nonsense! Nevile isn't a Mormon - whatever some of your clients may be!""The remarriage of the original parties occasionally takes place."Lady Tressilian shook her head.
　　"That, no! Audrey has too much pride."
　　"You think so?"
　　"I am sure of it. Do not shake your head in that aggravating fashion!""It has been my experience," said Mr. Treves, "that women possess little or no pride where love affairs are concerned. Pride is a quality often on -their lips, but not apparent in their actions.""You don't understand Audrey. She was violently in love with Nevile. Too much so, perhaps. After he left her for this girl (though I don't blame him entirely - the girl pursued him everywhere, and you know what men are!) she never wanted to see him again."Mr. Treves coughed gently. "And yet," he said, "she is here!""Oh, well," said Lady Tressilian, annoyed. "I don't profess to understand these modern ideas. I imagine that Audrey is here just to show that she doesn't care, and that it doesn't matter!""Very likely." Mr. Treves stroked his jaw. "She can put it to herself that way, certainly.""You mean," said Lady Tressilian, "that you think she is still hankering after Nevile and that - oh, no! I won't believe such a thing!""It could be," said Mr. Treves.
　　"I won't have it," said Lady Tressilian. "I won't have it in my house.""You are already disturbed, are you not?" asked Mr. Treves shrewdly. "There is tension. I have felt it in the atmosphere.""So you feel it, too?" said Lady Tressilian sharply.
　　"Yes, I am puzzled, I must confess. The true feelings of the parties remain obscure, but, in my opinion, there is gunpowder about. The explosion may come any minute.""Stop talking like Guy Fawkes and tell me what to do," said Lady Tressilian. Mr. Treves held up his hands.
　　"Really, I am at a loss to know what to suggest. There is, I feel sure, a focal-point. If we could isolate that - but there is so much that remains obscure.""I have no intention of asking Audrey to leave," said Lady Tressilian. "As far as my observation goes, she has behaved perfectly in a very difficult situation. She has been courteous, but aloof. I consider her conduct irreproachable.""Oh, quite," said Mr. Treves. "Quite. But it's having a most marked effect on young Nevile Strange, all the same.""Nevile," said Lady Tressilian, "is not behaving well. I shall speak to him about it. But I couldn't turn him out of the house for a moment. Matthew regarded him as practically his adopted son.""I know."
　　Lady Tressilian sighed. She said in a lowered voice: "You know that Matthew was drowned here?""Yes."
　　"So many people have been surprised at my remaining here. Stupid of them. I have always felt Matthew near to me here. The whole house is full of him. Ishould feel lonely and strange anywhere else." She paused and went on. "I hoped at first that it might not be very long before I joined him. Especially when my health began to fail. But it seems I am one of these creaking gates - these perpetual invalids who never die." She thumped her pillow angrily.
　　"It doesn't please me, I can tell you! I always hoped that when my time came, it would come quickly - that I should meet Death face to face - not feel him gradually creeping along behind me, always at my shoulder - gradually forcing me to sink to one indignity after another of illness. Increasing helplessness -increasing dependence on other people!""But very devoted people, I am sure. You have a faithful maid?""Barrett? The one who brought you up. The comfort of my life! A grim old battle-axe, absolutely devoted. She's been with me for years."'"And you are lucky, I should say, in having Miss Aldin." "You are right. I am lucky in having Mary." "She is a relation?""A distant cousin. One of those selfless creatures whose lives are continually being sacrificed to those of other people. She looked after her father - a clever man - but terribly exacting. When he died I begged her to make her home with me, and I have blessed the day she came to me. You've no idea what horrors most companions are. Futile, boring creatures. Driving one mad with their inanity. They are companions because they are fit for nothing better. To have Mary, who is a well-read, intelligent woman, is marvellous. She has really a first-class brain - a man's brain. She has read widely and deeply and there is nothing she cannot discuss. And she is as clever domestically as she is intellectually. She runs the house perfectly and keeps the servants happy - she eliminates all quarrels and jealousies -I don't know how she does it - just tact, I suppose.""She has been with you long?"
　　"Twelve years - no, more than that. Thirteen - fourteen - something like that. She has been a great comfort."Mr. Treves nodded.
　　Lady Tressilian, watching him through half-closed lids, said suddenly: "What's the matter? You're worried about something?""A trifle," said Mr. Treves. "A mere trifle. Your eyes are sharp.""I like studying people," said Lady Tressilian. "I always knew at once if there was anything on Matthew's mind." She sighed and leaned back on her pillows. "I must say good night to you now" - it was a Queen's dismissal, nothing discourteous about it - "I am very tired. But it has been a great, great pleasure. Come and see me again soon.""You may depend upon my taking advantage of those kind words. I only hope I have not talked too long.""Oh, no. I always tire very suddenly. Ring my bell for me, will you, before you go?"Mr. Treves pulled gingerly at a large old-fashioned bell-pull that ended in a huge tassel.
　　"Quite a survival," he remarked.
　　"My bell? Yes. No newfangled electric bells for me. Half of the time they're out of order and you go on pressing away! This thing never fails. It rings in Barrett's room upstairs - the bell hangs over her bed. So there's never any delay in answering it. If there is I pull it again pretty quickly."As Mr. Treves went out of the room he heard the bell pulled a second time and heard the tinkle of it somewhere above his head. He looked up and noticed the wires that ran along the ceiling. Barrett came hurriedly down a flight of stairs and passed him, going to her mistress.
　　Mr. Treves went slowly downstairs, not troubling with the little lift on the downward journey. His face was drawn into a frown of uncertainty.
　　He found the whole party assembled in the drawing-room, and Mary Aldin at once suggested bridge, but Mr. Treves refused politely on the plea that he must very shortly be starting for home.
　　"My hotel," he said, "is old-fashioned. They do not expect anyone to be out after midnight.""It's a long time from that - only half-past ten," said Nevile. "They don't lock you out, I hope?""Oh, no. In fact, I doubt if the door is locked at all at night. It is shut at nine o'clock, but one has only to turn the handle and walk in. People seem very haphazard down here, but I suppose they are justified in trusting to the honesty of the local people.""Certainly no one locks their door in the day-time here," said Mary. "Ours stands wide open all day long - but we do lock it up at night.""What's the Balmoral Court like?" asked Ted Latimer. "It looks a queer, high Victorian atrocity of a building.""It lives up to its name," said Mr. Treves. "And has good solid Victorian comfort. Good beds, good cooking - roomy Victorian wardrobes. Immense baths with mahogany surrounds.""Weren't you saying you were annoyed about something at first?" asked Mary.
　　"Ah, yes. I had carefully reserved by letter two rooms on the ground floor. I have a weak heart, you know, and stairs are forbidden me. When I arrived I was vexed to find the rooms were not available. Instead, I was allotted two rooms (very pleasant rooms, I must admit) on the top floor. I protested, but it seems that an old resident who had been going to Scotland this month was ill, and had been unable to vacate the rooms.""Mr. Lucan, I expect?" said Mary.
　　"I believe that is the name. Under the circumstances, I had to make the best of things. Fortunately, there is a good automatic lift - so that I have really suffered no inconvenience."Kay said: "Ted, why don't you come and stay at the Balmoral Court? You'd be much more accessible.""Oh, I don't think it looks my kind of place.""Quite right, Mr. Latimer," said Mr. Treves. "It would not be at all in your line of country."For some reason or other Ted Latimer flushed. "I don't know what you mean by that," he said.
　　Mary Aldin, sensing constraint, hurriedly made a remark about a newspaper sensation of the moment.
　　"I see they've detained a man in the Kentish Town trunk case - " she said.
　　"It's the second man they've detained," said Nevile. "I hope they've got the right one this time.""They may not be able to hold him even if he is," said Mr. Treves.
　　"Insufficient evidence?" asked Royde.
　　"Yes," said Kay, "I suppose they always get the evidence in the end.""Not always, Mrs. Strange. You'd be surprised if you knew how many of the people who have committed crimes are walking about the country free and unmolested.""'Because they've never been found out, you mean?""Not that only. There is a man" - he mentioned a celebrated case of two years back - "the police know who committed those child murders - know it without a shadow of doubt - but they are powerless. That man has been given an alibi by two people, and though that alibi is false there is no proving it to be so. Therefore the murderer goes free.""How dreadful," said Mary.
　　Thomas Royde knocked out his pipe and said in his quiet reflective voice: "That confirms what I have always thought - that there are times when one is justified in taking the law into one's own hands.""What do you mean, Mr. Royde?"
　　Thomas began to refill his pipe. He looked thoughtfully down at his hands as he spoke in jerky, disconnected sentences.
　　"Suppose you knew - of a dirty piece of work - knew that the man who did it isn't accountable to existing laws - that he's immune from punishment. Then I hold -that one is justified in executing sentence oneself."Mr. Treves said warmly: "A most pernicious doctrine, Mr. Royde! Such an action would be quite unjustifiable!"‘‘Don't see it. I'm assuming, you know, that the facts are proved - it's just that the law is powerless!""Private action is still not to be excused." Thomas smiled - a very gentle smile.
　　"I don't agree," he said. "If a man ought to have his neck wrung, I wouldn't mind taking the responsibility of wringing it for him!""And in turn would render yourself liable to the law's penalties!"Still smiling, Thomas said: "I'd have to be careful, of course ... In fact, one would have to go in for a certain amount of low cunning ..."Audrey said in her clear voice: "You'd be found out, Thomas." "Matter of fact," said Thomas, "I don't think I should.""I knew a case once," began Mr. Treves, and stopped. He said apologetically: "Criminology is rather a hobby of mine, you know.""Please go on," said Kay.
　　"I have had a fairly wide experience of criminal cases," said Mr. Treves. "Only a few of them have held any real interest. Most murderers have been lamentably uninteresting and very short-sighted. However, I could tell you of one interesting example.""Oh, do," said Kay - "I like murders."
　　Mr. Treves spoke slowly, apparently choosing his words with great deliberation and care.
　　"The case concerned a child. I will not mention that child's age or sex. The facts were as follows: Two children were playing with bows and arrows. One child sent an arrow through the other child in a vital spot and death resulted. There was an inquest, the surviving child was completely distraught and the accident was commiserated and sympathy expressed for the unhappy author of the deed." He paused.
　　"Was that all?" asked Ted Latimer.
　　"That was all. A regrettable accident. But there is, you see, another side to the story. A farmer, some time previously, happened to have passed up a certain path in a wood nearby. There, in a little clearing, be had noticed a child practising with a bow and arrow."He paused - to let his meaning sink in.
　　"You mean," said Mary Aldin incredulously, "that it was not an accident - that it was intentional?""I don't know," said Mr. Treves. "I have never known. It was stated at the inquest that the children were unused to bows and arrows and in consequence shot wildly and ignorantly.""And that was not so?"
　　"That, in the case of one of the children, was certainly not so!" "What did the farmer do?" said Audrey breathlessly.
　　"He did nothing. Whether he acted rightly or not, I have never been sure. It was the future of a child that was at stake. A child, he felt, ought to be given the benefit of a doubt."Audrey said: "But you yourself have no doubt about what really happened?"Mr. Treves said gravely: "Personally, I am of opinion that it was a particularly ingenious murder - a murder committed by a child and planned down to every detail beforehand."Ted Latimer asked: "Was there a reason?"
　　"Oh, yes, there was a motive. Childish teasings, unkind words - enough to foment hatred. Children hate easily -"Mary exclaimed: "But the deliberation of it!" Mr. Treves nodded.
　　"Yes, the deliberation of it was bad. A child, keeping that murderous intention in its heart, quietly practising day after day and then the final piece of acting, the awkward shooting - the catastrophe, the pretence of grief and despair. It was all incredible - so incredible that probably it would not have been believed in court.""What happened to - to the child?" asked Kay curiously. "Its name was changed, I believe," said Mr. Treves.
　　"After the publicity of the inquest that was deemed advisable. That child is a grown-up person to-day - somewhere in the world. The question is, has it still got a murderer's heart?"He added thoughtfully: "It is a long time ago, but I would recognise my little murderer anywhere.""Surely not," objected Royde.
　　"Oh, yes, there was a certain physical peculiarity - well, I will not dwell on the subject. It is not a very pleasant one. I must really be on my way home."He rose.
　　Mary said: "You will have a drink first?"The drinks were on a table at the other end of the room. Thomas Royde, who was near them, stepped forward and took the stopper out of the whisky decanter.
　　"A whisky and soda, Mr. Treves? Latimer, what about you?"Nevile said to Audrey in a low voice: "It's a lovely evening. Come out for a little."She had been standing by the window looking out at the moonlit terrace. He stepped past her and stood outside, waiting. She turned back into the room, shaking her head quickly.
　　"No, I'm tired. I -I think I'll go to bed."She crossed the room and went out. Kay gave a wide yawn.
　　"I'm sleepy, too. What about you, Mary?"
　　"Yes, I think so. Good night, Mr. Treves. Look after Mr. Treves, Thomas.""Good night. Miss Aldin. Good night, Mrs. Strange.""We'll be over for lunch to-morrow, Ted," said Kay. "We could bathe if it's still like this.""Right. I'll be looking for you. Good night. Miss Aldin."The two women left the room.
　　Ted Latimer said agreeably to Mr. Treves: "I'm coming your way, sir. Down to the ferry, so I, pass the hotel.""Thank you, Mr. Latimer. I shall be glad of your escort."Mr. Treves, although he had declared his intention of departing, seemed in no hurry. He sipped his drink with pleasant deliberation and devoted himself to the task of extracting information from Thomas Royde as to the conditions of life in Malaya.
　　Royde was monosyllabic in his answers. The everyday details of existence might have been secrets of national importance from the difficulty with which they were dragged from him. He seemed to be lost in some abstraction of his own, out of which he roused himself with difficulty to reply to his questioner.
　　Ted Latimer fidgeted. He looked bored, impatient, anxious to be gone.
　　Suddenly interrupting, he exclaimed: "I nearly forgot. I brought Kay over some gramophone records she wanted. They're in the hall. I'll get them. Will you tell her about them to-morrow, Royde?"The other man nodded. Ted left the room.
　　"That young man has a restless nature," murmured Mr. Treves.
　　Royde grunted without replying.
　　"A friend, I think, of Mrs. Strange's?" pursued the old lawyer.
　　"Of Kay Strange's," said Thomas.
　　Mr. Treves smiled.
　　"Yes," he said. "I meant that. He would be a friend of the first Mrs. Strange."Royde said emphatically: "No, he wouldn't."Then, catching the other's quizzical eye, he said, flushing a little, "What I mean is"Oh, I quite understand what you meant, Mr. Royde. You yourself are a friend of Mrs. Audrey Strange, are you not?"Thomas Royde slowly filled his pipe from his tobacco pouch. His eyes bent to his task, he said, or rather mumbled: "M - yes. More or less brought up together.""She must have been a very charming young girl?"Thomas Royde said something that sounded like "Um - yum.""A little awkward having two Mrs. Stranges in the house?""Oh, yes - yes, rather."
　　"A difficult position for the original Mrs. Strange."Thomas Royde's face flushed.
　　"Extremely difficult."
　　Mr. Treves leaned forward. His question popped out sharply.
　　"Why did she come, Mr. Royde?"
　　"Well -I suppose -" the other's voice was indistinct "she - didn't like to refuse.""To refuse whom?"
　　Royde shifted awkwardly.
　　"Well, as a matter of fact, I believe she always comes this time of year -beginning of September.""And Lady Tressilian asked Nevile Strange and his new wife at the same time?" The old gentleman's voice held a nice note of polite incredulity.
　　"As to that, I believe Nevile asked himself.""He was anxious, then, for this - reunion?"Royde shifted uneasily. He replied, avoiding the other's eye: "I suppose so.""Curious," said Mr. Treves.
　　"Stupid sort of thing to do," said Thomas Royde, goaded into longer speech.
　　"Somewhat embarrassing, one would have thought," said Mr. Treves.
　　"Oh, well - people do that sort of thing nowadays," said Thomas Royde vaguely.
　　"I wondered," said Mr. Treves, "if it had been anybody else's idea?"Royde stared. "Who else's could it have been?"Mr. Treves sighed.
　　"There are so many kind friends about in the world - always anxious to arrange other people's lives for them - to suggest courses of action that are not in harmony - " He broke off as Nevile Strange strolled back through the French windows. At the same moment Ted Latimer entered by the door from the hall.
　　"Hullo, Ted, what have you got there?" asked Nevile. "Gramophone records for Kay. She asked me to bring them over.""Oh, did she? She didn't tell me." There was just a moment of constraint between the two, then Nevile strolled over to the drink tray and helped himself to a whisky and soda. His face looked excited and unhappy and he was breathing deeply.
　　Someone in Mr. Treves' hearing had referred to Nevile as "that lucky beggar Strange - got everything in the world anyone could wish for." Yet he did not look, at this moment, at all a happy man.
　　Thomas Royde, with Nevile's re-entry, seemed to feel that his duties as host were over. He left the room without attempting to say good night, and his walk was slightly more hurried than usual. It was almost an escape.
　　"A delightful evening," said Mr. Treves politely as he set down his glass. "Most -er - instructive.""Instructive?" Nevile raised his eyebrows slightly.
　　"Information re the Malay States," suggested Ted, smiling broadly. "Hard work dragging answers out of Taciturn Thomas.""Extraordinary fellow, Royde," said Nevile. "I believe he's always been the same. Just smokes that awful old pipe of his and listens and says 'Um' and 'Ah' occasionally and looks wise like an owl.""Perhaps he thinks the more," said Mr. Treves. "And now I really must take my leave.""Come and see Lady Tressilian again soon," said Nevile as he accompanied the two men to the hall. "You cheer her up enormously. She has so few contacts now with the outside world. She's wonderful, isn't she?""Yes, indeed. A most stimulating conversationalist."Mr. Treves dressed himself carefully with overcoat and muffler, and after renewed good nights he and Ted Latimer set out together.
　　The Balmoral Court was actually only about a hundred yards away, around one curve of the road. It loomed up grim and forbidding, the first outpost of the straggling country street.
　　The ferry, where Ted Latimer was bound, was two or three hundred yards farther down, at a point where the river was at its narrowest.
　　Mr. Treves stopped at the door of the Balmoral Court and held out his hand. "Good night, Mr. Latimer. You are staying down here much longer?"Ted smiled with a flash of white teeth. "That depends, Mr. Treves. I haven't had time to be bored - yet.""No - no, so I should imagine. I suppose, like most young people nowadays, boredom is what you dread most in the world, and yet, I can assure you, there are worse things.""Such as?"
　　Ted Latimer's voice was soft and pleasant, but it held an undercurrent of something else - something not quite so easy to define.
　　"Oh, I leave it to your imagination, Mr. Latimer. I would not presume to give you advice, you know. The advice of such elderly fogeys as myself is invariably treated with scorn. Rightly so, perhaps, who knows? But we old buffers like to think that experience has taught us something. We have noticed a good deal, you know, in the course of a lifetime."A cloud, had come over the face of the moon. The street was very dark. Out of the darkness a man's figure came towards them walking up the hill.
　　It was Thomas Royde.
　　"Just been down to the ferry for a bit of a walk," he said indistinctly because of the pipe clenched between his teeth.
　　"This your pub?" he asked Mr. Treves. "Looks as though you were locked out.""Oh, I don't think so," said Mr. Treves.
　　He turned the big brass door-knob and the door swung back.
　　"We'll see you safely in," said Royde.
　　The three of them entered the hall. It was dimly lit with only one electric light. There was no one to be seen, and an odour of bygone dinner, rather dusty velvet, and good furniture met their nostrils.
　　Suddenly Mr. Treves gave an exclamation of annoyance. On the lift in front of them was a notice: LIFT OUT OF ORDER"Dear me," said Mr. Treves. "How extremely vexing! I shall have to walk up all those stairs.""Too bad," said Royde. "Isn't there a service lift - luggage - all that?""I'm afraid not. This one is used for all purposes. Well, I must take it slowly, that is all. Good night to you both."He started slowly up the wide staircase. Royde and Latimer wished him good night, then let themselves out into the dark street.
　　There was a moment's pause, then Royde said abruptly: "Well, good night.""Good night. See you to-morrow."
　　"Yes."
　　Ted Latimer strode lightly down the hill towards the ferry. Thomas Royde stood looking after him for a moment, then he walked slowly in the opposite direction towards Gull's Point.
　　The moon came out from behind the cloud and Saltcreek was once more bathed in silvery radiance.
Rose Red and Snow White（4）
IV
"So here we all are," said Mary Aldin.
Hurstall, the old butler, wiped his forehead. When he went into the kitchen, Mrs. Spicer, the cook, remarked upon his expression.
"I don't think I can be well, and that's the truth?," said Hurstall. "If I can so express myself, everything that's said and done in this house lately seems to me to mean something that's different from what it sounds like - if you know what I mean."
Mrs. Spicer did not seem to know what he meant, so Hurstall went on: "Miss Aldin, now, as they all sat down to dinner - she says 'So here we all are' - and just that gave me a turn! Made me think of a trainer who's got a lot of wild animals into a cage, and then the cage door shuts. I felt, all of a sudden, as though we were all caught in a trap."
"Lor', Mr. Hurstall," said Mrs. Spicer, "you must have eaten something that's disagreed."
"It's not my digestion. It's the way everyone's strung up. The front door banged just now and Mrs. Strange - our Mrs. Strange, Miss Audrey - she jumped as though she had been shot. And there's the silences, too. Very queer they are. It's as though, all of a sudden, everybody's afraid to speak. And then they all break out at once, just saying the things that first come into their heads."
"Enough to make anyone embarrassed," said Mrs. Spicer. "Two Mrs. Stranges in the house. What I feel is, it isn't decent."
In the dining-room one of those silences that Hurstall had described was proceeding.
It was with quite an effort that Mary Aldin turned to Kay and said: "I asked your friend, Mr. Latimer, to dine to-morrow night!"
"Oh, good," said Kay.
Nevile said: "Latimer? Is he down here?"
"He's staying at the Easterhead Bay Hotel," said Kay.
Nevile said: "We might go over and dine there one night. How late does the ferry go?"
"Until half-past one," said Mary. "I suppose they dance there in the evenings?" "Most of the people are about a hundred," said Kay. "Not very amusing for your friend," said Nevile to Kay.
Mary said quickly: "We might go over and bathe one day at Easterhead Bay. It's quite warm still and it's a lovely sandy beach."
Thomas Royde said in a low voice to Audrey: "I thought of going out sailing tomorrow. Will you come?"
"I'd like to."
"We might all go sailing," said Nevile.
"I thought you said you were going to play golf," said Kay.
"I did think of going over to the links. I was right off my wooden shots the other day."
"What a tragedy!" said Kay.
Nevile said good-humouredly: "Golf's a tragic game."
Mary asked Kay if she played.
"Yes - after a fashion."
Nevile said: "Kay would be very good if she took a little trouble. She's got a natural swing."
Kay said to Audrey: "You don't play any games, do you?"
‘‘Not really. I play tennis after a fashion - but I'm a complete rabbit."
"Do you still play the piano, Audrey?" asked Thomas.
She shook her head.
"Not nowadays."
"You used to play rather well," said Nevile.
"I thought you didn't like music, Nevile," said Kay.
"I don't know much about it," said Nevile vaguely. "I always wondered how Audrey managed to stretch an octave, her hands are so small."
He was looking at them as she laid down her dessert knife and fork.
She flushed a little and said quickly: "I've got a very long little finger. I expect that helps."
"You must be selfish, then," said Kay. "If you're unselfish you have a short little finger."
"Is that true?" asked Mary Aldin. "Then I must be unselfish. Look, my little fingers are quite short."
"I think you are very unselfish," said Thomas Royde, eyeing her thoughtfully.
She went red - and continued, quickly: "Who's the most unselfish of us? Let's compare little fingers. Mine are shorter than yours, Kay. But Thomas, I think, beats me."
"I beat you both," said Nevile. "Look." He stretched out a hand.
"Only one hand, though," said Kay. "Your left-hand little finger is short, but your right-hand one is much finger. And your left hand is what you are born with and the right hand is what you make of your life. So that means that you were born unselfish and have become more selfish as time goes on."
"Can you tell fortunes, Kay?" asked Mary Aldin. She stretched out her hand, palm upward. "A fortune-teller told me I should have two husbands and three children. I shall have to hurry up!"
Kay said: "Those little crosses aren't children, they're journeys. That means you'll take three journeys across water."
"That seems unlikely, too," said Mary Aldin.
Thomas Royde asked her: "Have you travelled much?"
"No, hardly at all."
He heard an undercurrent of regret in her voice.
"You would like to?"
"Above everything."
He thought in his slow reflective way of her life. Always in attendance on an old woman. Calm, tactful, an excellent manager. He asked curiously: "Have you lived with Lady Tressilian long?"
"For nearly fifteen years. I came to be with her after my father died. He had been a helpless invalid for some years before his death."
And then, answering the question she felt to be in his mind: "I'm thirty-six. That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it?"
"I did wonder," he admitted. "You might be - any age, you see."
"That's rather a two-edged remark!"
"I suppose it is. I didn't mean it that way."
That sombre, thoughtful gaze of his did not leave her face. She did not find it embarrassing. It was too free from self-consciousness for that - a genuine, thoughtful interest. Seeing his eyes on her hair, she put up her hand to the one white lock.
"I've had that," she said, "since I was very young." "I like it," said Thomas Royde simply.
He went on looking at her. She said at last, in a slightly amused tone of voice: "Well, what is the verdict?"
He reddened under his tan.
"Oh, I suppose it is rude of me to stare. I was wondering about you - what you are really like."
"Please," she said hurriedly and rose from the table. She said as she went into the drawing-room with her arm through Audrey's: "Old Mr. Treves is coming to dinner to-morrow, too."
"Who's he?" asked Nevile.
"He brought an introduction from the Rufus Lords. A delightful old gentleman. He's staying at the Balmoral Court. He's got a weak heart and looks very frail, but his faculties are perfect and he has known a lot of interesting people. He was a solicitor or a barrister -I forget which."
"Everybody down here is terribly old," said Kay discontentedly.
She was standing just under a tall lamp. Thomas was looking that way, and he gave her that same slow interested attention that he gave to anything that was immediately occupying his line of vision.
He was struck suddenly with her intense and passionate beauty. A beauty of vivid colouring, of abundant and triumphant vitality. He looked across from her to Audrey, pale and moth-like in a silvery grey dress.
He smiled to himself and murmured: "Rose Red and Snow White."
"What?" It was Mary Aldin at his elbow.
He repeated the words. "Like the old fairy story, you know -"
Mary Aldin said: "It's a very good description -"
白雪与红玫（3）
　　3
　　“你看起来就跟你十七岁的时候一模一样，托马斯•罗伊德，”特雷西利安夫人说，“还是一样板着张猫头鹰脸。而且话也不比那时候多多少。为什么不爱说话？”
　　托马斯含糊其辞地说道：
　　“我也不知道。我从来就不是个能说会道的人。”
　　“不像艾德里安。艾德里安聪明极了，说起话来也是机智风趣。”
　　“也许这就是原因所在。我总是把说话的机会留给他。”
　　“可怜的艾德里安。本来前途无量啊。”
　　托马斯点点头。
　　特雷西利安夫人改变了话题。她正在接见托马斯。她通常喜欢每次见一名访客。这样不会让她觉得很累，也使她能够把注意力集中到访客身上。
　　“你已经来了整整一天了，”她说，“你对我们这里的局面怎么看？”
　　“局面？”
　　“别装傻了。你明知故问。你很清楚我是什么意思，就是在我家里形成的这种三角关系。”
　　托马斯小心翼翼地说：“似乎起了点儿小争执。”
　　特雷西利安夫人有点儿邪恶地笑了笑。
　　“跟你老实说吧，托马斯，我还觉得挺开心的呢。发生这种事情也非我本意——实际上我已经尽我所能地去阻止了，但内维尔一意孤行。他坚持要让这两个人碰面——现在他可算是自食其果！”
　　托马斯•罗伊德在他的椅子里稍稍挪动了一下。
　　“看起来很奇妙。”他说。
　　“把话说清楚。”特雷西利安夫人厉声说道。
　　“没想到斯特兰奇是这种人。”
　　“你说的这点很有意思。因为我也有这种感觉。这不像是内维尔的做事风格。内维尔和绝大多数男人一样，通常对于任何难堪或者可能发生的不愉快都是避之唯恐不及的。我怀疑这原本并不是内维尔的主意——不过，假如不是的话，我想不出来还能是谁的主意。”她停顿了一下，音调稍稍提高了一些又说道，“不会是奥德丽的吧？”
　　托马斯立即说道：“不，不是奥德丽。”
　　“而我也很难相信会是那个倒霉的年轻女人凯出的主意。除非她是个非同寻常的演员。
　　你知道吗，近来我都几乎开始替她感到难过了。”
　　“你不太喜欢她，对吗？”
　　“是的。在我看来，她既愚蠢无知又毫无风度。不过如我所言，我是真的开始为她感到难过了。她就像一只灯下的长腿蜘蛛一样，误打误撞，一错再错。对于该用什么武器，采取什么方式全然不知。坏脾气，没礼貌，像孩子一样粗鲁无礼——这一切对于像内维尔那样的男人来说只会起到最坏的效果。”
　　托马斯平静地说道：
　　“我认为奥德丽才是那个左右为难的人。”
　　特雷西利安夫人以锐利的目光扫了他一眼。
　　“你一直都还爱着奥德丽，是不是，托马斯？”
　　他的回答沉着冷静：“就算是吧。”
　　“事实上是从你们都还是孩子，在一起的时候就开始了？”他点点头。
　　“然后内维尔出现，从你的眼皮子底下把她抢走了？”
　　他在椅子里不自在地动了动身子。
　　“得了吧——我一直都知道我没有机会。”
　　“失败主义者。”特雷西利安夫人说。
　　“我一直都是个沉闷无趣的人。”
　　“闷头苦干的人！”
　　“老好人托马斯！——那就是奥德丽对我的感觉。”
　　“忠实的托马斯，”特雷西利安夫人说，“那是你的外号，不是吗？”
　　他微微一笑，这几个字唤回了孩提时光的回忆。“真有意思！我已经很多年没听别人这么叫我了。”
　　“现在它可能会为你派上用场。”特雷西利安夫人说。
　　她明确并且从容不迫地迎向了他的目光。
　　“忠实，”她说道，“是任何一个有过奥德丽那样经历的人可能会欣赏的品质。托马斯，一生如忠犬一般的爱慕，有时候是会得到回报的。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德垂下眼帘，手指笨拙地摸索着烟斗。
　　“这个，”他说，“正是我回家的希望所在。”
白雪与红玫（4）
　　4
　　“这下我们就都到齐了。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。
　　年老的管家赫尔斯多擦了擦额头。当他走进厨房的时候，厨师斯派塞太太对于他的脸色进行了一番品评。
　　“说真的，我觉得我是好不了了，”赫尔斯多说，“如果能允许我发表自己看法的话，在我看来，最近这栋房子里的一切言行举止似乎都别有深意——你能明白我的意思吧？”
　　斯派塞太太看上去似乎并没有搞懂他话里的意思，于是赫尔斯多又继续说道：
　　“奥尔丁小姐，嗯，就在他们都坐下来准备吃晚饭的时候——她说了句‘这下我们就都到齐了’——这句话可着实吓了我一跳！它让我想起驯兽师把一大群野兽赶到一个笼子里，然后把笼子门那么一关。猛然间我就觉得仿佛我们全都中了圈套一样。”
　　“我保证，赫尔斯多先生，”斯派塞太太说，“你肯定是吃了什么不合适的东西了。”
　　“不是我肠胃的问题。是他们每个人都紧张兮兮的那股劲儿。就在刚才，前门砰的响了一下，而斯特兰奇太太——我是指我们的斯特兰奇太太，也就是奥德丽小姐——她一下子跳起来，仿佛中了枪似的。还有就是那种沉默。他们都太奇怪了。好像突然之间大家就都害怕说话了，然后没一会儿又都一起打开话匣子，想起什么就说什么。”
　　“是够让任何人都感到尴尬的了。”斯派塞太太说。
　　“这所房子里有两个斯特兰奇太太。给我的感觉是，这可不怎么成体统啊。”
　　在餐厅里，赫尔斯多刚刚描述过的那种沉默正在上演。
　　玛丽•奥尔丁费了好大的劲才转向凯，说道：“我邀请你的朋友拉蒂默先生明天来吃晚餐！”
　　“哦，好啊。”凯说。
　　内维尔说：“拉蒂默？他在这儿？”
　　“他住在复活节海湾酒店。”凯说。
　　内维尔说：“找一天晚上我们可以过去那儿吃顿晚饭。渡船最晚开到几点？”
　　“一直到一点半。”玛丽说。
　　“我猜到了晚上他们会在那边跳舞吧？”
　　“那儿住的大多数都是百八十岁的老人。”凯说。
　　“那对你的朋友来说可没什么意思。”内维尔对凯说。
　　玛丽迅即说道：
　　“我们哪天可以到复活节海湾去游泳，那儿还挺暖和的，而且有片非常漂亮的沙滩。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德低声对奥德丽说道：
　　“我明天想驾帆船出海去。你去吗？”
　　“我去。”
　　“我们大家可以一起出海。”内维尔说。
　　“我记得你说要去打高尔夫球的。”凯说。
　　“我的确想过要去高尔夫球场。可是那天我打得糟透了。”“那真够悲惨的！”凯说。
　　内维尔和和气气地说道：
　　“高尔夫球本来就是一项悲惨的运动。”
　　玛丽问凯她打不打高尔夫。
　　“打——但不是特别好。”
　　内维尔说：
　　“凯要是肯稍微多花点儿心思在这上面的话，她会打得非常好的。她的击球很有天分。”
　　凯对奥德丽说：
　　“你什么运动都不做，是吗？”
　　“也不全是。我多多少少也打打网球——不过我可是个不折不扣的门外汉。”
　　“你还弹钢琴吗，奥德丽？”托马斯问道。
　　她摇了摇头。
　　“现在不弹了。”
　　“你以前弹得可相当好啊。”内维尔说。
　　“我还以为你不喜欢音乐呢，内维尔。”凯说。
　　“我对音乐懂得不太多，”内维尔含糊其辞地说道，“我总是纳闷奥德丽的手那么小，她是怎么才能够得着八度音阶的呢？”
　　这时奥德丽恰好放下她吃餐后甜点的刀和叉，他就那样盯着她的双手。
　　她的脸上泛起淡淡的红晕，连忙说道：
　　“我的小拇指很长，我猜那会有帮助吧。”
　　“那你这人肯定很自私，”凯说，“你要是不自私的话，小拇指会很短的。”
　　“真的吗？”玛丽•奥尔丁问道，“那我肯定不自私。看，我的小拇指就相当短。”
　　“我觉得你确实非常无私。”托马斯•罗伊德若有所思地看着她说道。
　　她的脸一下子红了，然后马上继续说道：
　　“我们当中谁是最无私的啊？咱们来比比小拇指吧。我的比你的短，凯。不过我想，托马斯的比我的还短。”
　　“我比你们俩的都短，”内维尔说，“看。”他说着伸出一只手来。
　　“但你这只是一只手，”凯说，“你左手的小拇指很短，可右手的就长多了。你的左手代表的是你与生俱来的，而右手代表的是你要怎么过你的生活。这就意味着你生下来的时候是不自私的，而随着时间的推移，你就会变得越来越自私。”
　　“你会算命吗，凯？”玛丽•奥尔丁问道。她伸出了她的手，掌心向上。“一个算命的人告诉过我，我会有两个丈夫和三个孩子。我可得抓点儿紧了！”
　　凯说：“这些小的交叉掌纹代表的不是孩子，是旅行。那说明你会有三次水上旅行。”
　　“这看起来也不太可能。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。
　　托马斯•罗伊德问她：“你经常旅行吗？”
　　“不，几乎没怎么旅行过。”
　　从她的声音中他听出了一种潜在的遗憾。
　　“你想去旅行吗？”
　　“比什么都想。”
　　他开始用他那种不慌不忙的深思熟虑来思考她的一辈子。她一直都在照顾一个老太太。从容不迫，周全得体，是个极其出色的管家。他好奇地问道：
　　“你和特雷西利安夫人一起住了很久了吗？”
　　“将近十五年了。我父亲死了以后我就过来和她住在一起了。而我父亲在去世之前几年就已经卧病在床，什么也干不了了。”
　　接着，她回答了她觉得他想要问的问题：
　　“我今年三十六岁。那是你想知道的，不是吗？”
　　“我的确想知道，”他承认道，“你知道，你的外表看上去——说多大都有可能。”
　　“你这话可是能从两边来理解啊！”
　　“我想是吧。可我不是那个意思。”
　　他严肃而沉思地注视着她，目光并未从她脸上移开。她也并未因此而感到局促不安。
　　这目光不会让她感到一丝难为情——那是一种发自内心的体贴和关心。她看到他的眼神停留在她的头发上，于是抬起手摸了摸那一缕白发。
　　“从很小的时候起，”她说，“我就有这个了。”
　　“我喜欢。”托马斯•罗伊德简洁明了地说道。
　　他继续打量着她。最终她有点儿被逗笑了地说道：
　　“好啦，你得出什么结论了？”
　　他黝黑的皮肤一阵泛红。
　　“哦，我想我那样盯着你看可能太无礼了。我想要弄明白你……你究竟是个什么样的人。”
　　“行啊。”她匆匆说道，然后从桌旁站起了身。她一边挎着奥德丽的胳膊走进客厅，一边又说道：
　　“特里夫斯老先生明天也来吃晚饭。”
　　“他是谁啊？”内维尔问道。
　　“他是鲁弗斯•洛德介绍来的，是位招人喜欢的老先生。他住在巴尔莫勒尔宅邸。他的心脏不太好，看起来非常脆弱，不过脑子可没得挑，而且还认识一大堆有意思的人。他是个律师还是大律师来着——我也忘了。”
　　“来这儿的所有人都老得掉牙了。”凯不满地说道。
　　她恰巧站在一盏高脚灯下。托马斯正往那个方向看，如同对待任何直接占据了他视线的事物一样，他给予了她同样缓缓的、充满了兴趣的关注。
　　他一下子就被她奔放而充满激情的美丽所打动了。那是一种色彩鲜艳的美，一种趾高气扬、充满活力的美。他从她的身上又看向了奥德丽，在一袭银灰色礼服的映衬下，她脸色苍白得仿佛一只飞蛾。
　　他暗自一笑，喃喃自语道：
　　“红玫与白雪。 [1] ”
　　“你说什么？”玛丽•奥尔丁在他身边问道。
　　他重复了一遍。“你知道，就像那个古老的童话故事……”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁说道：“这是个非常好的形容……”
Rose Red and Snow White（5）
　　V
　　Mr. Treves sipped his glass of port appreciatively. A very nice wine. A very nice wine. And an excellently cooked and served dinner. Clearly Lady Tressilian had no difficulties with her servants.
　　The house was well managed, too, in spite of the mistress of it being an invalid.
　　A pity, perhaps, that the ladies did not leave the dining-room when the port went round. He preferred the old-fashioned routine - But these young people had their own ways.
　　His eyes rested thoughtfully on that brilliant and beautiful young woman who was the wife of Nevile Strange.
　　It was Kay's night to-night. Her vivid beauty glowed and shone in the candlelit room. Beside her, Ted Latimer's sleek dark head bent to hers. He was playing up to her. She felt triumphant and sure of herself.
　　The mere sight of such radiant vitality warmed Mr. Treves' old bones. Youth - there was really nothing like youth!
　　No wonder the husband had lost his head and left his first wife. Audrey was sitting next to him. A charming creature and a lady - but then that was the kind of woman who invariably did get left, in Mr. Treves' experience.
　　He glanced at her. Her head was bent down and she was staring at her plate. Something in the complete immobility of her attitude struck Mr. Treves. He looked at her more keenly. He wondered what she was thinking about. Charming the way the hair sprang up from that small shell-like ear ...
　　With a little start, Mr. Treves came to himself as he realised that a move was being made. He got hurriedly to his feet.
　　In the drawing-room Kay Strange went straight to the gramophone and put on a record of dance music.
　　Mary Aldin said apologetically to Mr. Treves: "I'm sure you hate jazz." "Not at all," said Mr. Treves, untruly but politely.
　　"Later, perhaps, we might have some bridge?" she suggested. "But it is no good starting a rubber now, as I know Lady Tressilian is looking forward to having a chat with you.""That will be delightful. Lady Tressilian never joins you down here?""No, she used to come down in an invalid chair. That is why we had a lift put in. But nowadays she prefers her own room. There she can talk to whomsoever she likes, summoning them by a kind of Royal Command.""Very aptly put. Miss Aldin. I am always sensible of the Royal touch in Lady Tressilian's manner."In the middle of the room Kay was moving in a slow dance step.
　　She said: "Just take that table out of the way, Nevile."Her voice was autocratic, assured. Her eyes were shining, her lips parted.
　　Nevile obediently moved the table. Then be took a step towards her, but she turned deliberately towards Ted Latimer.
　　"Come on, Ted, let's dance."
　　Ted's arm went round her immediately. They danced, swaying, bending, their steps perfectly together. It was a lovely performance to watch.
　　Mr. Treves murmured: '"Er - quite professional."Mary Aldin winced slightly at the word - yet surely Mr. Treves had spoken in simple admiration. She looked at his little wise nut-cracker face. It bore, she thought, an absent-minded look, as though he were following some train of thought of his own.
　　Nevile stood hesitating a moment, then he walked to where Audrey was standing by the window.
　　"Dance, Audrey?"
　　His tone was formal, almost cold. Mere politeness, you might have said, inspired his request. Audrey Strange hesitated a minute before nodding her head and taking a step towards him.
　　Mary Aldin made some commonplace remarks, to which Mr. Treves did not reply. He had so far shown no signs of deafness and his courtesy was punctilious - she realised that it was absorption that held him aloof. She could not quite make out if he was watching the dancers, or was staring across the room at Thomas Royde, standing alone at the other end.
　　With a little start Mr. Treves said: "Excuse me, my dear lady, you were saying?""Nothing. Only that it was an unusually fine September.""Yes, indeed - rain is badly needed locally, so they tell me at my hotel.""You are comfortable there, I hope?""Oh, yes, though I must say I was vexed when I arrived to find -"Mr. Treves broke off.
　　Audrey had disengaged herself from Nevile. She said with an apologetic little laugh: "It's really too hot to dance."She went towards the open window and out on to the terrace.
　　"Oh! Go after her, you fool," murmured Mary. She meant the remark to be under her breath, but it was loud enough for Mr. Treves to turn and stare at her in astonishment.
　　She reddened and gave an embarrassed laugh. "I'm speaking my thoughts aloud," she said ruefully. "But really he does irritate me so. He's so slow." "Mr. Strange?" "Oh, no, not Nevile. Thomas Royde."Thomas Royde was just preparing to move forward, but by now Nevile, after a moment's pause, had followed Audrey out of the window.
　　For a moment Mr. Treves' eye, interestedly speculative, rested on the window, then his attention returned to the dancers.
　　"A beautiful dancer, young Mr. - Latimer, did you say the name was?""Yes. Edward Latimer.""Ah, yes, Edward Latimer. An old friend, I gather, of Mrs. Strange?""Yes.""And what does this very - er - decorative young gentleman do for a living?""Well, really, I don't quite know.'""In-deed, "said Mr. Treves, managing to put a good deal of comprehension into one harmless word.
　　Mary went on: "He is staying at the Easterhead Bay Hotel." "A very pleasant situation," said Mr. Treves.
　　He added dreamily after a moment or two: "Rather as interesting shaped head -a curious angle from the crown to the neck - rendered less noticeable by the way he has his hair cut, but distinctly unusual." After another pause, he went on still more dreamily: "The last man I saw with a head like that got ten years' penal servitude for a brutal attack on an elderly jeweller.""Surely," exclaimed Mary, "you don't mean -""Not at all, not at all," said Mr. Treves. "You mistake me entirely. I am suggesting no disparagement of a guest of yours. I was merely pointing out that a hardened and brutal criminal can be in appearance a most charming and personable young man. Odd, but so it is."He smiled gently at her. Mary said: "You know, Mr. Treves, I think I am a little frightened of you.""Nonsense, dear lady.""But I am. You are - such a very shrewd observer.""My eyes," said Mr. Treves complacently, "are as good as ever they were." He paused and added: "Whether that is fortunate or unfortunate, I cannot at the moment decide.""How could it be unfortunate?"Mr. Treves shook his head doubtfully.
　　"One is sometimes placed in a position of responsibility. The right course of action is not always easy to determine."Hurstall entered bearing the coffee tray.
　　After taking it to Mary and the old lawyer, he went down the room to Thomas Royde. Then, by Mary's directions, he put the tray on a low table and left the room.
　　Kay called over Ted's shoulder: "We'll finish out this tune." Mary said: "I'll take Audrey's out to her."She went to the trench windows, cup in hand. Mr. Treves accompanied her. As she paused on the threshold he looked out over her shoulder.
　　Audrey was sitting on the corner of the balustrade. In the bright moonlight her beauty came to life - a beauty born of line rather than colour. The exquisite line from the jaw to the ear, the tender modelling of chin and mouth, and the really lovely bones of the head and the small straight nose. That beauty would be there when Audrey Strange was an old woman - it had nothing to do with the covering flesh - it was the bones themselves that were beautiful. The sequinned dress she wore accentuated the effect of the moonlight. She sat very still and Nevile Strange stood and looked at her.
　　Nevile took a step towards her. "Audrey," he said, "you -"She shifted her position, then sprang lightly to her feet and clapped a hand to her ear: "Oh! my ear-ring -I must have dropped it""Where? Let me look -"They both bent down, awkward and embarrassed - and collided in doing so. Audrey sprang away. Nevile exclaimed : "Wait a sec - my cuff button - it's caught in your hair. Standstill."She stood quite still as he fumbled with the button.
　　"Oo - you're pulling it out by the roots - how clumsy you are, Nevile; do bequick.""Sorry, I -I seem to be all thumbs.’’
　　The moonlight was bright enough for the two onlookers to see what Audrey could not see, the trembling of Nevile's hands as he strove to free the strand of fair silvery hair.
　　But Audrey herself was trembling, too - as though suddenly cold.
　　Mary Aldin jumped as a quiet voice said behind her: "Excuse me -"Thomas Royde passed between them and out.
　　"Shall I do that, Strange?" he asked.
　　Nevile straightened up and he and Audrey moved apart.
　　"It's all right. I've done it."
　　Nevile's face was rather white.
　　"You're cold," said Thomas to Audrey. "Come in and have coffee."She came back with him and Nevile turned away, staring out to sea.
　　"I was bringing it out to you," said Mary. "But perhaps you'd better come in.""Yes," said Audrey, "I think I'd better come in."They all went back into the drawing-room. Ted and Kay had stopped dancing.
　　The door opened and a tall gaunt woman dressed in black came in. She said respectfully: "Her ladyship's compliments, and she would be glad to see Mr. Treves up in her room."
白雪与红玫（5）
　　5
　　特里夫斯先生有滋有味地抿了一口杯中的波特酒 [2] 。这酒美味极了，而且用来招待他的晚餐也无与伦比。显然特雷西利安夫人跟她的用人相处得十分融洽。
　　整栋房子也打理得井井有条，尽管它的女主人是个久病缠身的人。
　　说到遗憾的话，或许在斟波特酒的时候女士们没有离席算是一点。他还是更喜欢那些传统的老规矩，但这群年轻人却有他们自己的处世方式。
　　他的眼光若有所思地停留在那个年轻漂亮、光彩照人的女人身上，那是内维尔•斯特兰奇的太太。
　　今夜是属于凯的。在这间点满蜡烛的房间里，她艳丽的美貌熠熠生辉。在她身旁，特德•拉蒂默把乌黑闪亮的头歪向她这边。他在向她献媚示好。而她则感到自信满满，得意扬扬。
　　光是看看这种活力四射的场景就已经让特里夫斯先生这把老骨头兴奋起来了。
　　青春啊——真的没有任何东西可以与之相匹敌！
　　也难怪那个做丈夫的会鬼迷心窍离开他的前妻。奥德丽就坐在他的旁边。她是个招人喜欢的人，是位淑女——不过按照特里夫斯先生的经验，这种女人总是难逃遭遗弃的命运。
　　他瞟了她一眼。她正低头盯着面前的盘子。在她那全然不为所动的态度背后，某些东西给特里夫斯先生留下了深刻印象。他怀着更浓厚的兴趣看着她，想知道她心里在想些什么。她的头发从她那小巧如贝壳一般的耳朵上拢起的样子真是很迷人……等回过神来的时候，特里夫斯先生才有点儿吃惊地意识到大家都准备换到另一个房间去了。他赶忙站起身来。
　　在客厅里，凯•斯特兰奇径直走向留声机，放上了一张舞曲唱片。
　　玛丽•奥尔丁有些抱歉地对特里夫斯先生说道：
　　“我相信您一定讨厌爵士乐。”
　　“哪里的话。”特里夫斯先生言不由衷却又彬彬有礼地说道。
　　“或许晚些时候我们可以打打桥牌？”她提议道，“不过现在恐怕不行。就我所知，特雷西利安夫人正盼着和您聊聊天呢。”
　　“那太让人高兴了。特雷西利安夫人从来不下楼吗？”
　　“也不是，她以前常常坐着轮椅下来。这就是为什么我们在屋里装了一部电梯。不过现如今她更喜欢待在自己的房间里。在那里她想找谁聊天就找谁，就像是王室召见一样。”
　　“你描述得太贴切了，奥尔丁小姐。我也时常能感觉到特雷西利安夫人举手投足间的那种王室风范。”
　　在房间的中央，凯正以慢舞步翩翩起舞。
　　她说：“把那张桌子挪到不碍事的地方，内维尔。”
　　她的声音中满是自信和专横，说话的时候双目放光，朱唇微启。
　　内维尔顺从地挪开了桌子，然后朝她走近了一步，而她却故意转向了特德•拉蒂默。
　　“来吧，特德，咱们来跳舞。”
　　特德立刻伸出手臂环住了她。他们共同起舞，舞姿摇曳，舞步配合得天衣无缝。能看到这样的表演实在是令人赏心悦目。
　　特里夫斯先生喃喃道：
　　“呃——相当专业啊。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁听了这话微微蹙起了眉——但无疑特里夫斯先生这么说是出于纯粹的赞赏。她瞅了瞅他干瘪而睿智的小脸，那张脸上挂着一副心不在焉的神情，她想，他似乎也沉浸在自己的思绪之中了。
　　内维尔站在那里迟疑了一下，随后走向伫立在窗前的奥德丽。
　　“跳舞吗，奥德丽？”
　　他的语调很正式，几乎可以说是冷冰冰的。你也许可以说他提出邀请仅仅是出于礼貌。奥德丽犹豫了一下，点点头，朝他走了过去。
　　玛丽•奥尔丁又随口跟特里夫斯先生寒暄了几句，但他未予回应。到现在为止，并没有什么迹象表明他耳背，而且他的礼数也非常周到——她意识到是由于他的精神过于专注才显得有些冷淡。她搞不清楚他究竟是在看着那些跳舞的人，还是在盯着孤零零站在房间另一端的托马斯•罗伊德。
　　特里夫斯先生忽然有点儿吃惊地说道：
　　“抱歉，我亲爱的女士，你在说什么？”
　　“没什么。只是说今年九月的天气好得不同寻常。”
　　“是啊，的确如此——这个地方急需雨水，他们在旅店里是这么告诉我的。”
　　“我想，您在这里住得还舒适吧？”
　　“哦，当然了，尽管我必须说我刚刚到这里的时候有点儿恼火，那是因为发现——”
　　特里夫斯先生突然住了口。
　　奥德丽从内维尔的身边走开了。她歉然一笑道：
　　“再跳下去真的太热了。”
　　她移步走向敞开着的落地窗，出去来到了露台之上。
　　“噢！跟上她啊，你个笨蛋。”玛丽嘟囔道。她本想小声说出来的，可这句话还是足以让特里夫斯先生转过身来，一脸惊讶地看着她。
　　她的脸涨得通红，尴尬地笑了。
　　“我把心里想的说出来了，”她懊悔地说道，“不过他可真让我起急，动作也太慢了。”
　　“你说斯特兰奇先生？”
　　“哦，不是，我没说内维尔。是说托马斯•罗伊德。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德正准备走上前去，可就这点工夫，内维尔愣了一下神之后已经跟着奥德丽走到窗外去了。
　　有那么一刻，特里夫斯先生的眼睛饶有兴趣地盯着落地窗，充满好奇，接着他的注意力就又转回到正在跳舞的人身上了。
　　“舞跳得真美，年轻的……呃……拉蒂默先生，你是说过他叫这个名字吧？”
　　“是的。特德•拉蒂默。”
　　“啊，对了，特德•拉蒂默。据我所知，他是斯特兰奇太太的老朋友吧？”
　　“没错。”
　　“那这个非常……呃……外表光鲜的年轻绅士是靠什么来过活的呢？”
　　“嗯，说真的，我也不太清楚。”
　　“哦。”特里夫斯先生设法用这一个字表达了他对此事的理解。
　　玛丽继续说道：
　　“他现在住在复活节海湾酒店。”
　　“一个环境非常舒适的地方。”特里夫斯先生说。
　　过了一会儿，他又出神地说道：“他脑袋的形状可真有意思——从头顶到脖子的角度很奇特，他留的发型让这个特点变得不那么显眼，不过还是一眼能看出来与众不同。”又停顿了一下之后，他用更加心不在焉的语气继续说道：“我上一次见到有这样头型的人被判了十年劳役监禁，起因是野蛮地殴打了一个年老的珠宝商。”
　　“天哪，”玛丽惊呼道，“你不是想说——”
　　“绝对不是，绝对不是，”特里夫斯先生说，“你完全误解我了。我一点儿都没有要贬损你们客人的意思。我只是想说，一个野蛮残忍、冷酷无情的罪犯有可能就是个表面看上去英俊潇洒、风度翩翩的年轻人。匪夷所思，但事实如此。”
　　他和蔼地冲她微微一笑。玛丽说：“知道吗，特里夫斯先生，我想我有点怕你。”
　　“别胡说了，亲爱的女士。”
　　“但我确实是啊。你是个……目光特别敏锐的观察者。”
　　“我的眼神，”特里夫斯先生怡然自得地说道，“一如既往的好。不过这究竟是幸运还是不幸，我现在也说不清楚。”
　　“这怎么可能是不幸呢？”
　　特里夫斯先生怀疑地摇摇头。
　　“有时候，人会被置于需要承担责任的境地，而正确的做法并不总是那么容易确定的。”
　　赫尔斯多走了进来，手里端着咖啡托盘。
　　在给了玛丽和老律师一人一杯之后，他又穿过房间向托马斯•罗伊德走去。然后，按照玛丽的要求，他把托盘放在矮桌之上，离开了房间。
　　凯越过特德的肩头喊道：“我们跳完这一曲就好了。”
　　玛丽说：“我把奥德丽的给她拿出去。”
　　她端着咖啡杯，向落地窗走去。特里夫斯先生陪在她身旁。就在她在窗口处停顿的那一刻，他越过她的肩膀向外面看去。
　　奥德丽坐在围墙的转角处。在皎洁的月光下，她的美变得更有生气了——那是一种源自于线条而非色彩的美。从下颏到耳朵的精致曲线，下巴和嘴部的柔美造型，还有那非常迷人的头骨轮廓以及小巧挺直的鼻梁。即使奥德丽•斯特兰奇年华老去，这种美也会依然存在——这种美与外在的肉体肌肤无关——这是由骨架本身带来的美。她身上那件缀有小亮片的礼服与月光相映生辉。她纹丝不动地坐着，而内维尔则站在那里看着她。
　　内维尔向她走近了一步。
　　“奥德丽，”他说，“你——”
　　她变换了个姿势，然后轻轻地跳了下来，同时一只手摸着耳朵。“噢！我的耳环，我肯定把它弄掉了。”
　　“在哪儿呢？让我看看——”
　　他们两人一同笨拙而又尴尬地俯下身子，结果一弯腰就撞在了一起。奥德丽一下子跳开。内维尔叫了起来：
　　“等一下……我的袖扣……缠上你的头发了。站着别动。”
　　他笨手笨脚弄扣子的时候她站在那儿一动不动。
　　“噢……你要把我的头发连根儿拔下来了……你可真够笨的，内维尔，动作快一点儿。”
　　“对不起，我……我是挺笨手笨脚的。”
　　月色如洗，奥德丽看不到的事情被两个旁观者一览无余，内维尔试图解开那一缕浅银色头发的手在不住颤抖。
　　而奥德丽自己也在颤抖着——仿佛突然间觉得发冷似的。
　　一个平静的声音在身后响起，吓了玛丽一跳：
　　“不好意思——”
　　托马斯•罗伊德从两人之间穿过，走了出去。
　　“我来好吗，斯特兰奇？”他问道。
　　内维尔直起身来，他和奥德丽两个人各自分开。
　　“没事儿了。我已经解开了。”
　　内维尔的脸色有些苍白。
　　“你冷了，”托马斯对奥德丽说，“进来喝杯咖啡吧。”
　　她跟在他身后走向屋里，内维尔则转过身去凝望着大海。
　　“我把咖啡给你端出来了，”玛丽说，“不过也许你最好还是进屋来。”
　　“是啊，”奥德丽说，“我想我还是进去的好。”
　　他们都回到了客厅里。特德和凯已经跳完了舞。
　　门开了，一个身穿黑色衣服的骨瘦如柴的高个子女人走进屋来。她毕恭毕敬地说道：
　　“夫人问大家好，她很高兴在她的房间里见见特里夫斯先生。”
Rose Red and Snow White（7）
　　VII
　　"Just like summer," murmured Mary Aldin.
　　She and Audrey were sitting on the beach just below the imposing edifice of the Easterhead Bay Hotel. Audrey wore a white swim-suit and looked like a delicate ivory figurine. Mary had not bathed. A little way along from them Kay lay on her face exposing her bronzed limbs and back to the sun.
　　"Ugh!" She sat up. "The water's horribly cold," she said accusingly.
　　"Oh, well, it is September," said Mary.
　　"It's always cold in England," said Kay discontentedly.
　　"How I wish we were in the South of France! That really is hot."Ted Latimer from beyond her murmured: "This sun here isn't a real sun.""Aren't you going in at all, Mr. Latimer?" asked Mary.
　　Kay laughed.
　　"Ted never goes in the water. Just suns himself like a lizard."She stretched out a toe and prodded him. He sprang up.
　　"Come and walk, Kay. I'm cold."
　　They went off together along the beach.
　　"Like a lizard? Rather an unfortunate comparison," murmured Mary Aldin, looking after them.
　　"Is that what you think of him?" asked Audrey.
　　Mary Aldin frowned.
　　"Not quite. A lizard suggests something quite tame. I don't think he is tame.""No," said Audrey thoughtfully "I don't think so, either.""How well they look together!" said Mary, watching the retreating pair. "They match somehow, don't they?""I suppose they do."
　　"They like the same things," went on Mary. "And have the same opinions and -and use the same language. What a thousand pities it is that -" She stopped.
　　Audrey said sharply: "That what?"
　　Mary said slowly: "I suppose I was going to say what a pity it was that Nevile and she ever met."Audrey sat up stiffly. What Mary called to herself "Audrey's frozen look" had come over her face. Mary said quickly: "I'm sorry, Audrey. I shouldn't have said that.""I'd so much rather - not talk about it if you don't mind.""Of course, of course. It was very stupid of me. I -I hoped you'd got over it, I suppose."Audrey turned her head slowly. With a calm, expressionless face she said: "I assure you there is nothing to get over. I -I have no feeling of any kind in the matter. I hope -I hope with all my heart that Kay and Nevile will always be very happy together.""Well, that's very nice of you, Audrey."
　　"It isn't nice. It is - just true. But I do think it is - well - unprofitable to keep on going back over the past. 'It's a pity this happened - that!' It is all over now. Why rake it up? We've got to go on living our lives in the present.""I suppose," said Mary simply, "that people like Kay and Ted are exciting to me because - well, they are so different from anything or anyone that I have ever come across.""Yes, I suppose they are."
　　"Even you," said Mary with sudden bitterness, "have lived and had experiences that I shall probably never have. I know you've been unhappy - very unhappy -but I can't help feeling that even that is better than - well - nothing. Emptiness!"She said the last word with a fierce emphasis.
　　Audrey's wide eyes looked a little startled. "I never dreamt you ever felt like that.""Didn't you?" Mary Aldin laughed apologetically. "Oh, just a momentary fit of discontent, my dear. I didn't really mean it.""It can't be very gay for you," said Audrey slowly. "Just living here with Camilla -dear thing though she is. Reading to her, managing the servants, never going away.""I'm well fed and housed," said Mary. "Thousands of women aren't even that. And really, Audrey, I am quite contented. I have" - a smile played for a moment round her lips - "my private distractions.""Secret vices?" asked Audrey, smiling also.
　　"Oh, I plan things," said Mary vaguely. "In my mind, you know. And I like experimenting, sometimes - upon people. Just seeing, you know, if I can make them react to what I say in the way I mean.""You sound almost sadistic, Mary. How little I really know you!" "Oh, it's all quite harmless. Just a childish little amusement." Audrey asked curiously: "Have you experimented on me?""No. You're the only person I have always found quite incalculable. I never know, you see, what you are thinking.""Perhaps," said Audrey gravely, "that is just as well."She shivered and Mary exclaimed: "You're cold.""Yes. I think I will go and dress. After all, it is September."Mary Aldin remained alone, staring at the reflection on the water. The tide was going out. She stretched herself out on the sand, closing her eyes.
　　They had had a good lunch at the hotel. It was still quite full, although it was past the height of the season. A queer mixed-looking lot of people. Oh, well, it had been a day out. Something to break the monotony of day following day. It had been a relief, too, to get away from that sense of tension, that strung-up atmosphere that there had been lately at Gull's Point. It hadn't been Audrey's fault, but Nevile -Her thoughts broke up abruptly as Ted Latimer plumped himself down on the beach beside her.
　　"What have you done with Kay?" Mary asked.
　　Ted replied briefly: "She's been claimed by her legal owner."Something in his tone made Mary Aldin sit up. She glanced across the stretch of shining golden sands to where Nevile and Kay were walking by the water's edge. Then she glanced quickly at the man beside her.
　　She had thought of him as nerveless, as queer, as dangerous, even. Now for the first time she got a glimpse of someone young and hurt. She thought: "He was in love with Kay - really in love with her - and then Nevile came and took her away...."She said gently: "I hope you are enjoying yourself down here."They were conventional words. Mary Aldin seldom used any words but conventional ones - that was her language. But her tone was an offer - for the first time - of friendliness, Ted Latimer responded to it.
　　"As much, probably, as I should enjoy myself anywhere." Mary said: "I'm sorry.""But you don't care a damn, really! I'm an outsider - and what does it matter what outsiders feel and think?"She turned her head to look at this bitter and handsome young man.
　　He returned her look with one of defiance.
　　She said slowly, as one who makes a discovery: "I see. You don't like us." He laughed shortly. "Did you expect me to?"She said thoughtfully: "I suppose, you know, that I did expect just that. One takes, of course, too much for granted. One should be more humble. Yes, it would not have occurred to me that you would not like us. We have tried to make you welcome - as Kay's friend!""Yes- as Kay's friend!"
　　The interruption came with a quick venom.
　　Mary said with disarming sincerity: "I wish you would tell me - really I wish it -just why you dislike us? What have we done? What is wrong with us?"Ted Latimer said, with a blistering emphasis on the one word: "Smug!""Smug?" Mary queried it without rancour, examining the charge with judicial appraisement.
　　"Yes," she admitted. "I see that we could seem like that.""You are like that. You take all the good things of life for granted. You're happy and superior in your little roped-off enclosure shut off from the common herd. You look at people like me as though I were one of the animals outside!""I'm sorry," said Mary. "It's true, isn't it?""No, not quite. We are stupid, perhaps, and unimaginative - but not malicious. I myself am conventional and superficially, I dare say, what you call smug. But really, you know, I'm quite human inside. I'm very sorry, this minute, because you are unhappy, and I wish I could do something about it.""Well - if that's so - it's nice of you."There was a pause, then Mary said gently: "Have you always been in love with Kay?""Pretty well."
　　"And she?"
　　"I thought so - until Strange came along."Mary said gently: "And you're still in love with her?""I should think that was obvious."
　　After a moment or two, Mary said quietly: "Hadn't you better go away from here?""Why should I?"
　　"Because you are only letting yourself in for more unhappiness."He looked at her and laughed.
　　"You're a nice creature," he said. "But you don't know much about the animals prowling about outside your little enclosure. Quite a lot of things may happen in the near future.""What sort of things?" said Mary sharply. He laughed. "Wait and see."
白雪与红玫（6）
　　7
　　“就像夏天一样。”玛丽•奥尔丁喃喃自语道。
　　她和奥德丽正坐在复活节海湾酒店那幢宏伟建筑下方的沙滩上。奥德丽穿着一身白色的泳衣，看上去就像一具精致的象牙雕像。玛丽没有下水游泳。离她们不远的地方，凯正脸朝下趴在那里，把她古铜色的四肢和后背暴露在阳光之下。
　　“啊，”她坐起身来，“这水也太凉了。”她不满地说道。
　　“可不嘛，这已经是九月了。”玛丽说。
　　“英格兰总是这么冷，”凯不满地说道，“我多希望我们这会儿是在法国南部啊。那儿真的很热。”
　　特德•拉蒂默在她的另一边也咕哝道：
　　“这儿的阳光压根儿就算不上阳光。”
　　“你不下水吗，拉蒂默先生？”玛丽问道。
　　凯哈哈大笑起来。
　　“特德从来不下水。他就喜欢像只蜥蜴 [5] 那样晒太阳。”她伸出一个脚趾头捅了捅他。
　　他纵身而起。
　　“起来走走吧，凯。我冷了。”
　　他俩一起沿着沙滩走去。
　　“像只蜥蜴那样？多倒霉的比喻啊。”玛丽注视着他们，小声说道。
　　“你觉得他像吗？”奥德丽问道。
　　“不太像。蜥蜴会让人想起非常温顺驯服的东西。我可不觉得他很温顺。”
　　“是啊，”奥德丽若有所思地说，“我也不觉得。”
　　“他俩在一起多合适啊，”玛丽瞅着那一对远去的背影说道，“他们在某些方面还挺般配的，不是吗？”
　　“我想是的。”
　　“他们喜欢同样的东西，”玛丽继续说道，“还有着同样的观点，而且……而且连说的话都是一样的。真是万分遗憾啊——”
　　她停下不说了。
　　奥德丽突然问道：
　　“遗憾什么？”
　　玛丽缓缓说道：
　　“我要说的是，内维尔遇见了她真是个遗憾。”
　　奥德丽直挺挺地坐了起来。玛丽暗自称之为“奥德丽式冷若冰霜”的表情爬上了她的脸庞。玛丽赶忙说道：
　　“我很抱歉，奥德丽。我本不该说这些的。”
　　“如果你不介意的话，我特别……不想谈论这个话题。”
　　“当然，当然。是我太傻了。我……我还觉着你已经从这件事中缓过来了呢。”
　　奥德丽慢慢转过头来，她面无表情、心平气和地说道：
　　“我可以跟你保证，这种事没有什么缓不缓得过来的。我……我对这件事已经麻木了。
　　我希望……衷心希望凯和内维尔能够一直很幸福地走下去。”
　　“唉，你真是太好心了，奥德丽。”
　　“这不是我好心。只不过事实如此罢了。不过我也确实觉得……呃……总是沉溺于过往没什么好处。‘发生了这种事情可太遗憾了！’现在一切都过去了，又何必旧事重提呢？我们还不是得继续过好眼前的日子。”
　　“我想，”玛丽诚挚地说道，“像凯和特德这样的人能够令我感到兴奋是因为——嗯，他们和我所遇见过的任何人任何事都如此的不同。”
　　“是啊。我想他们也是。”
　　“甚至像你，”玛丽突然带着些酸楚说道，“也有过我或许永远都不可能拥有的经历。我知道你一直都不快乐——非常不快乐——但我还是忍不住会觉得即使这样也比……呃……什么都没有强。空虚啊！”
　　她重重地说出了最后几个字。
　　奥德丽瞪大了眼睛，显得有点儿吃惊。
　　“我从来都没想到你会有这种感觉。”
　　“你没想到吗？”玛丽歉然一笑，“哦，亲爱的，这只是一时发发小牢骚而已。我真不是有意这样说的。”
　　“只是在这里陪着卡米拉住，”奥德丽慢悠悠地说道，“对你来说确实不可能特别愉快——即使她是个挺可爱的人——给她读书念报，安排仆人做家务，还从来都不能出去休假。”
　　“我衣食无忧，居有定所，”玛丽说，“成千上万的女人连这些还得不到呢。而且说真的，奥德丽，我相当知足了。我呢，”她的唇边闪过了一抹微笑，“有我自己的消遣方式。”
　　“秘密勾当？”奥德丽也笑了，问道。
　　“哦，我计划一些事情，”玛丽暧昧地说道，“在我的脑海里。而且有时候我喜欢做实验——拿人来做。你知道，就是想看看我能不能让他们对于我所说的话按照我的本意去做出反应。”
　　“听上去你简直就是个虐待狂，玛丽。我得有多不了解你啊！”
　　“噢，这些都是无伤大雅的。就跟小孩儿过家家一样。”
　　奥德丽好奇地问：
　　“那你拿我做过实验吗？”
　　“没有。你是唯一一个我总也捉摸不透的人。你瞧，我永远都不知道你在想什么。”
　　“或许，”奥德丽严肃地说，“这样也好。”
　　她打了个寒战，玛丽叫道：
　　“你冷了。”
　　“是。我想我得去加件衣服。毕竟已经是九月份了。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁独自留了下来，她凝视着水面上的倒影。此刻潮水正在退去。她伸开四肢躺在沙滩上，闭上了眼睛。
　　他们在酒店吃了一顿丰盛的午餐。尽管已经过了旅游旺季，这里依然几乎座无虚席，充斥着古里古怪、相貌各异的人。也对，这本来就是休闲的一天，用来打破平时日复一日的单调乏味。这同样也是一种解脱，让人逃离那种不安的感觉，逃离近些天来弥漫在海鸥角的紧张氛围。这本不是奥德丽的过错，可是内维尔……特德•拉蒂默猛然间一屁股坐在了她身旁的沙滩上，打断了她的思绪。
　　“你把凯怎么啦？”玛丽问道。
　　特德简洁地回答道：
　　“她被她的法定所有人领回去了。”
　　他语气中的某些东西令玛丽•奥尔丁坐了起来。她扫了一眼那片金光闪闪的沙滩，看到内维尔和凯正在水边漫步。接着她又迅速瞥了一下身边的这个男人。
　　她原本认为他就是个百无聊赖、离奇怪异，甚至带有几分危险意味的家伙。而此时她第一次觉得她看到了一个受了委屈的年轻人。她暗想：
　　“他爱上了凯——真心实意地爱上了她——而之后内维尔出现并把她抢走了……”
　　她轻柔地说道：
　　“我希望你在这里过得愉快。”
　　这就是一句客套话。玛丽•奥尔丁除了客套话之外很少说别的——这是她说话的方式。
　　不过她语气中带着一种意味——这还是第一次——一种友善的意味。特德•拉蒂默对此做出了回应。
　　“或许，能过得跟我在任何其他地方一样愉快。”
　　玛丽说：“我很抱歉。”
　　“不过实际上你一丁点儿都不在乎！我是个外人，一个外人有什么感受、什么想法又有什么关系呢？”
　　她转过头去看着这个愤愤不平的英俊小伙子。
　　他以挑衅的眼神回看着她。
　　她就像发现了什么似的缓缓说道：
　　“我明白了。你不喜欢我们。”
　　他不耐烦地笑了。
　　“你指望我会喜欢你们？”
　　她沉思道：
　　“你知道吗，我还真是这样盼望着。当然了，人们会把太多的事情视为理所应当。人本来应该更谦逊一些的。是啊，我的确没想到你会不喜欢我们。我们欢迎你的到来，尽力款待你，当你是凯的朋友。”
　　“可不是吗，当我是凯的朋友！”
　　这句话脱口而出，带着愤恨。
　　玛丽怀着消除敌意的真诚说道：
　　“我希望你能告诉我，真心地希望，你究竟为什么不喜欢我们？我们做了什么？我们犯了什么错误？”
　　特德•拉蒂默恶狠狠地说出了四个字：“自命不凡！”
　　“自命不凡？”玛丽并无怨怒地问道，同时心里不偏不倚地仔细掂量着这个罪名。
　　“是的，”她承认道，“我明白我们看上去可能会给人这种印象。”
　　“你们就是这样的。你们把生活中的一切美好事物都看成理所当然。你们还给自己圈出一片小天地从而把草民们拒之门外，自己则在里面高高在上，快活享乐。而像我这样的人在你们眼里跟外面的动物也没什么两样！”
　　“我很遗憾。”玛丽说。
　　“事实如此，不是吗？”
　　“不，不全是这样。或许我们很愚蠢，很刻板无趣，但我们并没有心怀恶意。我自己是个很传统的人，想必从表面上看来就是你所说的自命不凡。但是说真的，你要知道，我内心是很通人情的。此时此刻，我感到很难过，因为你并不快乐，而我希望我能够为此做些什么。”
　　“嗯……如果这么说的话，你真是太好了。”
　　停顿了一下之后，玛丽轻柔地说道：
　　“你一直都爱着凯吗？”
　　“差不多吧。”
　　“她呢？”
　　“我想也是——直到斯特兰奇出现。”玛丽温柔地说：
　　“而你还依然爱着她？”
　　“我觉得这是显而易见的。”
　　过了片刻，玛丽平静地说道：
　　“你离开这里不是更好吗？”
　　“我为什么要离开？”
　　“因为你在这里只会让自己觉得更痛苦。”
　　他看着她笑了起来。
　　“你是个好人，”他说，“不过对于在你们那个小天地周围徘徊着的动物你可就知之甚少了。在不久的将来，会发生很多事情。”
　　“什么事情？”玛丽急忙问道。
　　“走着瞧吧。”
Rose Red and Snow White（8）
　　VIII
　　When Audrey had dressed she went along the beach and out along a jutting point of rocks, joining Thomas Royde, who was sitting there smoking a pipe,exactly opposite to Gull's Point, which stood white and serene on the opposite side of the river.
　　Thomas turned his head at Audrey's approach, but he did not move. She sat down beside him without speaking. They were silent with the comfortable silence of two people who know each other very well indeed.
　　"How near it looks!" said Audrey at last breaking the silence. Thomas looked across at Gull's Point. "Yes, we could swim home.""Not at this tide. There was a housemaid Camilla had once. She was an enthusiastic bather, used to swim across and back whenever the tide was right. It has to be high or low - but when it's running out it sweeps you right down to the mouth of the river. It did that to her one day - only luckily she kept her head and came ashore all right on Easter Point - only very exhausted.""It doesn't say anything about its being dangerous here.""It isn't this side. The current is the other side. It's deep there under the cliffs. There was a would-be suicide last year - threw himself off Stark Head - but he was caught by a tree half-way down the cliff and the coastguards got to him all right.""Poor devil," said Thomas. "I bet he didn't thank them. Must be sickening to have made up your mind to get out of it all and then be saved. Makes a fellow feel a fool.""Perhaps he's glad now," suggested Audrey dreamily.
　　She wondered vaguely where the man was now and what he was doing.
　　Thomas puffed away at his pipe. By turning his head very slightly he could look at Audrey. He noted her grave, absorbed face as she stared across the water. The long brown lashes that rested on the pure line of the cheek, the small shell-like ear.
　　That reminded him of something.
　　"Oh, by the way, I've got your ear-ring - the one you lost last night." His fingers delved into his pocket. Audrey stretched out a hand. "Oh, good, where did you find it? On the terrace?""No. It was near the stairs. You must have lost it as you came down to dinner. I noticed you hadn't got it at dinner.""I'm glad to have it back."
　　She took it. Thomas reflected that it was rather a large barbaric ear-ring for so small an ear. The ones she had on to-day were large, too.
　　He remarked: "You wear your ear-rings even when you bathe. Aren't you afraid of losing them?""Oh, these are very cheap things. I hate being without ear-rings because of this." She touched her left ear. Thomas remembered. "Oh, yes, that time old Bouncer bit you?" Audrey nodded.
　　They were silent, reliving a childish memory. Audrey Standish (as she then was), a long, spindle-legged child, putting her face down on old Bouncer, who had had a sore paw. A nasty bite he had given her. She had had to have a stitch put in it. Not that there was much to show now - just the tiniest little scar.
　　"My dear girl," he said, "you can hardly see the mark. Why do you mind?"Audrey paused before answering with evident sincerity: "It's because - because I just can't bear a blemish."Thomas nodded. It fitted in with his knowledge of Audrey - of her instinct for perfection. She was in herself so perfectly finished an article.
　　He said suddenly: "You're far more beautiful than Kay."She turned quickly.
　　"Oh, no, Thomas. Kay - Kay is really lovely.""On the outside. Not underneath."
　　"Are you referring," said Audrey with faint amusement, "to my beautiful soul?"Thomas knocked out the ashes of his pipe.
　　"No," he said. "I think I mean your bones."Audrey laughed.
　　Thomas packed a new pipeful of tobacco. They were silent for quite five minutes, but Thomas glanced at Audrey more than once, though he did it so unobtrusively that she was unaware of it.
　　He said at last, quietly: "What's wrong, Audrey?""Wrong? What do you mean by wrong?"
　　"Wrong with you. There's something."
　　"No, there's nothing. Nothing at all."
　　"But there is."
　　She shook her head.
　　"Won't you tell me?"
　　"There's nothing to tell."
　　"I suppose I'm being a chump - but I've got to say it - " He paused. "Audrey -can't you forget about it? Can't you let it all go?"She dug her small hands convulsively into the rock. "You don't understand - you can't begin to understand." "But, Audrey, my dear, I do. That's just it. I know." She turned a small, doubtful face to him.
　　"I know exactly what you've been through. And - and what it must have meant to you."She was very white now, white to the lips.
　　"I see," she said. "I didn't think - anyone knew.""Well, I do. I - I'm not going to talk about it. But what I want to impress upon you is that it's all over - it's past and done with."She said in a low voice: "Some things don't pass.""Look here, Audrey, it's no good brooding and remembering. Granted you've been through Hell. It does no good to go over and over a thing in your mind. Look forward - not back. You're quite young. You've got your life to live and most of that life is in front of you. Think of to-morrow, not of yesterday."She looked at him with a steady, wide-eyed gaze that was singularly unrevealing of her real thoughts.
　　"And supposing," she said, "that I can't do that?" "But you must."Audrey said gently: "I thought you didn't understand. I'm - I'm not quite normal about - some things, I suppose."He broke in roughly: "Rubbish. You -" He stopped. "I - what?""I was thinking of you as you were when you were a girl - before you married Nevile. Why did you marry Nevile?"Audrey smiled. "Because I fell in love with him.""Yes, yes, I know that. But why did you fall in love with him? What attracted you to him so much?"She crinkled her eyes as though trying to see through the eyes of a girl now dead.
　　"I think," she said, "it was because he was so "positive." He was so much the opposite of what I was myself. I always felt shadowy - not quite real. Nevile was very real. And so happy and sure of himself and so - everything that I was not." She added with a smile: "And very good-looking."Thomas Royde said bitterly: "Yes, the ideal Englishman - good at sport, modest, good-looking, always the little pukka sahib - getting everything he wanted all along the line."Audrey sat very upright and stared at him.
　　"You hate him," she said slowly. "You hate him very much, don't you?"He avoided her eyes, turning away to cup a match in his hands as he relit the pipe that had gone out.
　　"Wouldn't be surprising if I did, would it?" he said indistinctly. "He's got everything that I haven't. He can play games, and swim, and dance, and talk. And I'm a tongue-tied oaf with a crippled arm. He's always been brilliant and successful and I've always been a dull dog. And he married the only girl I ever cared for."She made a faint sound. He said savagely: "You've always known that, haven't you? You knew I cared about you ever since you were fifteen. You know that I still care -"She stopped him.
　　"No. Not now."
　　"What do you mean - not now?"
　　Audrey got up. She said in a quiet, reflective voice: "Because - now -I am different.""Different in what way?"
　　He got up too, and stood facing her.
　　Audrey said in a quick, rather breathless voice: "If you don't know, I can't tell you ... I'm not always sure myself. I only know -"She broke off, and turning abruptly away she walked quickly back over the rocks towards the hotel.
　　Turning a corner of the cliff she came across Nevile. He was lying full length peering into a rock pool. He looked up and grinned.
　　"Hullo, Audrey."
　　"Hullo, Nevile."
　　"I'm watching a crab. Awfully active little beggar. Look, there he is."She knelt down and stared where he pointed.
　　"See him?"
　　"Yes."
　　"Have a cigarette?"
　　She accepted one and he lit it for her. After a moment or two, during which she did not look at him, he said nervously: "I say, Audrey?""Yes?"
　　"It's all right, isn't it? I mean - between us.""Yes. Yes, of course."
　　"I mean - we're friends and all that?"
　　"Oh, yes - yes, of course."
　　"I do want us to be friends."
　　He looked at her anxiously. She gave him a nervous smile.
　　He said conversationally: "It's been a jolly day, hasn't it? Weather good and all that?""Oh, yes - yes."
　　"Quite hot really for September."
　　There was a pause.
　　"Audrey -"
　　She got up.
　　"Your wife wants you; she's waving to you.""Who - oh, Kay."
　　"I said your wife."
　　He scrambled to his feet and stood looking at her.
　　He said in a very low voice: "You're my wife, Audrey ..."She turned away. Nevile ran down on to the beach and across the sand to join Kay.
白雪与红玫（9）
　　9
　　他们一回到海鸥角，赫尔斯多就来到大厅里跟玛丽说话。
　　“你能立刻上楼去看看老夫人吗，小姐？她现在非常心烦意乱，想等你一回来就见你。”
　　玛丽赶忙跑上楼去。她发现特雷西利安夫人面色惨白，瑟瑟发抖。
　　“亲爱的玛丽，你回来我可太高兴了。我心里难受极了。可怜的特里夫斯先生死了。”
　　“死了？”
　　“是啊，难道不可怕吗？太突然了。很显然昨天晚上他甚至都没来得及脱掉衣服。他肯定刚一进屋就倒地不起了。”
　　“噢，天哪，我很难过。”
　　“当然了，谁都知道，他的身体弱不禁风，心脏极其脆弱。他在我们这儿的那段时间里没发生什么让他过度紧张和劳累的事情吧？我希望没有。昨天的晚餐也没有什么不好消化的东西吧？”
　　“我想没有吧——对，我确信没有。他那会儿看起来很好啊，兴致也挺高的。”
　　“我心里真的非常难过。玛丽，我希望你能去一趟巴尔莫勒尔宅邸，问一问罗杰斯太太。问问她我们能帮忙做些什么。然后还有葬礼的事儿。看在马修的分上我愿意尽我们所能。对于一家旅店来说，处理这种事情实在是太棘手了。”
　　玛丽坚决地说道：
　　“亲爱的卡米拉，你真的不必那么操心。这件事对你的打击太大了。”
　　“确实是这样啊。”
　　“我马上就去一趟巴尔莫勒尔宅邸，等我回来以后告诉你详情。”
　　“谢谢你，亲爱的玛丽，你总是那么讲求实际，而且通情达理。”
　　“现在请你试着休息一会儿吧。这种打击对你来说实在是太糟糕了。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁离开了房间走下楼来。一走进客厅她就大声说道：“特里夫斯老先生死了。他昨天晚上回旅店之后就死了。”
　　“可怜的老头儿，”内维尔叫道，“这是怎么回事儿？”
　　“显然是心脏的问题。他一进屋就倒地不起了。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德若有所思地说：
　　“我在想是不是那楼梯要了他的命。”
　　“楼梯？”玛丽诧异地看着他。
　　“没错。拉蒂默和我跟他分开的时候他正开始往上爬。我们还告诉他要慢一点儿。”
　　玛丽叫道：
　　“但他干吗那么傻，不去坐电梯呢？”
　　“电梯出故障了。”
　　“哦，我明白了。实在太不幸了。可怜的老先生。”
　　她接着说道：“我现在准备过去一趟。卡米拉想知道有什么我们可以帮忙的。”
　　托马斯说：“我和你一起去。”
　　他们两个人一道沿着路走下去，转过弯就到了巴尔莫勒尔宅邸。玛丽说道：
　　“我也不知道他有没有什么亲戚应该通知一下。”
　　“他没提过任何人。”
　　“对啊，一般人通常都会提起的。他们总是话里带着‘我侄子’或者‘我表哥’之类的。”
　　“他结婚了吗？”
　　“我相信没有。”
　　他们走进了巴尔莫勒尔宅邸敞开的大门。
　　女主人罗杰斯太太正在和一个高个子的中年男子说话，那个男人友好地抬起手和玛丽打了个招呼。
　　“下午好，奥尔丁小姐。”
　　“下午好，拉曾比医生。这位是罗伊德先生。我们这次来是替特雷西利安夫人捎个口信，她想知道有什么事情我们可以帮忙。”
　　“你可真是太好了，奥尔丁小姐，”旅店女主人说道，“到我房间里来，好吗？”
　　他们全都进了一间舒适的小会客室，拉曾比医生说：
　　“特里夫斯先生昨晚是在你家吃的晚饭，对吗？”
　　“是的。”
　　“他那时看起来怎么样？有没有表现出什么不适的症状？”
　　“没有，他看起来非常好，也很高兴。”
　　医生点点头。
　　“是啊，这是心脏病病例里最糟糕的一种情况。死亡几乎都是突然降临的。我刚才在楼上看了一下他的处方，情况看来很清楚了，他的健康处在一种岌岌可危的状态。当然了，我会和他在伦敦的医生取得联系。”
　　“他总是对自己非常小心谨慎，”罗杰斯太太说，“而且我也保证他在我们这里得到了一切应有的照顾。”
　　“这个我确信，罗杰斯太太，”医生很巧妙地说道，“毫无疑问，死亡只是由于某种很轻微的额外劳累所导致的。”
　　“比如说爬楼梯。”玛丽提醒道。
　　“没错，有可能。实际上是几乎一定会导致——换句话说，如果他真的爬了那三段楼梯的话——不过想必他肯定不会干这种事儿吧？”
　　“哦，不会的，”罗杰斯太太说，“他总是坐电梯，总是。他最讲究了。”
　　“我的意思是说，”玛丽说，“在昨天晚上电梯坏了的情况下——”
　　罗杰斯太太惊讶地盯着她。
　　“可是昨天电梯根本就没出毛病啊，奥尔丁小姐。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德咳嗽了一声。
　　“抱歉，”他说，“昨晚我是和特里夫斯先生一起回到这里的。电梯上的确有一个告示牌，上面写着‘电梯故障’。”
　　罗杰斯太太瞪大了眼睛。
　　“啊，那可就怪了。我要是早说电梯一点儿毛病都没有就好了——实际上我确定它没毛病。要是真有毛病的话我肯定会知道的。我们这部电梯一点儿故障不出已经有（手摸着木头） [6] ——噢，得有十八个月了吧。它还是非常可靠的。”
　　“也许，”医生提醒道，“是哪个门童或者大厅的服务生下班的时候把牌子挂了出来？”
　　“这是部自动电梯，医生，不需要任何人去操作它。”
　　“哦，对了，是啊。我忘记了。”
　　“我得跟乔谈谈。”罗杰斯太太说。她急匆匆地走出屋去，叫喊着：“乔——乔——”
　　拉曾比医生好奇地看着托马斯。
　　“不好意思，你有把握吗，呃——先生贵姓？”
　　“罗伊德。”玛丽插嘴道。
　　“很有把握。”托马斯说。
　　罗杰斯太太带着门童回来了。乔强调说前一天晚上电梯什么毛病都没出。托马斯描述的那块告示牌确实存在，但它被藏在桌子底下，已经有一年多没用过了。
　　大家面面相觑，一致认为这是一件非常蹊跷的事情。医生提出，很有可能是旅店里某个客人搞的恶作剧，于是他们觉得猜测也只能到此为止了。
　　对于玛丽提出的问题，拉曾比医生解释说特里夫斯先生的司机已经给了他特里夫斯先生律师的地址，而他正在和他们取得联系，然后他会去拜望特雷西利安夫人，并且告诉她需要安排跟葬礼有关的事宜。
　　随后这个忙碌而乐观的医生便匆匆离开了，而玛丽和托马斯则慢慢地走回海鸥角去。
　　玛丽说：“你很确定看见那块告示牌了吗，托马斯？”
　　“拉蒂默和我都看见了。”
　　“简直太离奇了！”玛丽说道。
白雪与红玫（7）
　　7
　　“就像夏天一样。”玛丽•奥尔丁喃喃自语道。
　　她和奥德丽正坐在复活节海湾酒店那幢宏伟建筑下方的沙滩上。奥德丽穿着一身白色的泳衣，看上去就像一具精致的象牙雕像。玛丽没有下水游泳。离她们不远的地方，凯正脸朝下趴在那里，把她古铜色的四肢和后背暴露在阳光之下。
　　“啊，”她坐起身来，“这水也太凉了。”她不满地说道。
　　“可不嘛，这已经是九月了。”玛丽说。
　　“英格兰总是这么冷，”凯不满地说道，“我多希望我们这会儿是在法国南部啊。那儿真的很热。”
　　特德•拉蒂默在她的另一边也咕哝道：
　　“这儿的阳光压根儿就算不上阳光。”
　　“你不下水吗，拉蒂默先生？”玛丽问道。
　　凯哈哈大笑起来。
　　“特德从来不下水。他就喜欢像只蜥蜴 [5] 那样晒太阳。”她伸出一个脚趾头捅了捅他。
　　他纵身而起。
　　“起来走走吧，凯。我冷了。”
　　他俩一起沿着沙滩走去。
　　“像只蜥蜴那样？多倒霉的比喻啊。”玛丽注视着他们，小声说道。
　　“你觉得他像吗？”奥德丽问道。
　　“不太像。蜥蜴会让人想起非常温顺驯服的东西。我可不觉得他很温顺。”
　　“是啊，”奥德丽若有所思地说，“我也不觉得。”
　　“他俩在一起多合适啊，”玛丽瞅着那一对远去的背影说道，“他们在某些方面还挺般配的，不是吗？”
　　“我想是的。”
　　“他们喜欢同样的东西，”玛丽继续说道，“还有着同样的观点，而且……而且连说的话都是一样的。真是万分遗憾啊——”
　　她停下不说了。
　　奥德丽突然问道：
　　“遗憾什么？”
　　玛丽缓缓说道：
　　“我要说的是，内维尔遇见了她真是个遗憾。”
　　奥德丽直挺挺地坐了起来。玛丽暗自称之为“奥德丽式冷若冰霜”的表情爬上了她的脸庞。玛丽赶忙说道：
　　“我很抱歉，奥德丽。我本不该说这些的。”
　　“如果你不介意的话，我特别……不想谈论这个话题。”
　　“当然，当然。是我太傻了。我……我还觉着你已经从这件事中缓过来了呢。”
　　奥德丽慢慢转过头来，她面无表情、心平气和地说道：
　　“我可以跟你保证，这种事没有什么缓不缓得过来的。我……我对这件事已经麻木了。
　　我希望……衷心希望凯和内维尔能够一直很幸福地走下去。”
　　“唉，你真是太好心了，奥德丽。”
　　“这不是我好心。只不过事实如此罢了。不过我也确实觉得……呃……总是沉溺于过往没什么好处。‘发生了这种事情可太遗憾了！’现在一切都过去了，又何必旧事重提呢？我们还不是得继续过好眼前的日子。”
　　“我想，”玛丽诚挚地说道，“像凯和特德这样的人能够令我感到兴奋是因为——嗯，他们和我所遇见过的任何人任何事都如此的不同。”
　　“是啊。我想他们也是。”
　　“甚至像你，”玛丽突然带着些酸楚说道，“也有过我或许永远都不可能拥有的经历。我知道你一直都不快乐——非常不快乐——但我还是忍不住会觉得即使这样也比……呃……什么都没有强。空虚啊！”
　　她重重地说出了最后几个字。
　　奥德丽瞪大了眼睛，显得有点儿吃惊。
　　“我从来都没想到你会有这种感觉。”
　　“你没想到吗？”玛丽歉然一笑，“哦，亲爱的，这只是一时发发小牢骚而已。我真不是有意这样说的。”
　　“只是在这里陪着卡米拉住，”奥德丽慢悠悠地说道，“对你来说确实不可能特别愉快——即使她是个挺可爱的人——给她读书念报，安排仆人做家务，还从来都不能出去休假。”
　　“我衣食无忧，居有定所，”玛丽说，“成千上万的女人连这些还得不到呢。而且说真的，奥德丽，我相当知足了。我呢，”她的唇边闪过了一抹微笑，“有我自己的消遣方式。”
　　“秘密勾当？”奥德丽也笑了，问道。
　　“哦，我计划一些事情，”玛丽暧昧地说道，“在我的脑海里。而且有时候我喜欢做实验——拿人来做。你知道，就是想看看我能不能让他们对于我所说的话按照我的本意去做出反应。”
　　“听上去你简直就是个虐待狂，玛丽。我得有多不了解你啊！”
　　“噢，这些都是无伤大雅的。就跟小孩儿过家家一样。”
　　奥德丽好奇地问：
　　“那你拿我做过实验吗？”
　　“没有。你是唯一一个我总也捉摸不透的人。你瞧，我永远都不知道你在想什么。”
　　“或许，”奥德丽严肃地说，“这样也好。”
　　她打了个寒战，玛丽叫道：
　　“你冷了。”
　　“是。我想我得去加件衣服。毕竟已经是九月份了。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁独自留了下来，她凝视着水面上的倒影。此刻潮水正在退去。她伸开四肢躺在沙滩上，闭上了眼睛。
　　他们在酒店吃了一顿丰盛的午餐。尽管已经过了旅游旺季，这里依然几乎座无虚席，充斥着古里古怪、相貌各异的人。也对，这本来就是休闲的一天，用来打破平时日复一日的单调乏味。这同样也是一种解脱，让人逃离那种不安的感觉，逃离近些天来弥漫在海鸥角的紧张氛围。这本不是奥德丽的过错，可是内维尔……特德•拉蒂默猛然间一屁股坐在了她身旁的沙滩上，打断了她的思绪。
　　“你把凯怎么啦？”玛丽问道。
　　特德简洁地回答道：
　　“她被她的法定所有人领回去了。”
　　他语气中的某些东西令玛丽•奥尔丁坐了起来。她扫了一眼那片金光闪闪的沙滩，看到内维尔和凯正在水边漫步。接着她又迅速瞥了一下身边的这个男人。
　　她原本认为他就是个百无聊赖、离奇怪异，甚至带有几分危险意味的家伙。而此时她第一次觉得她看到了一个受了委屈的年轻人。她暗想：
　　“他爱上了凯——真心实意地爱上了她——而之后内维尔出现并把她抢走了……”
　　她轻柔地说道：
　　“我希望你在这里过得愉快。”
　　这就是一句客套话。玛丽•奥尔丁除了客套话之外很少说别的——这是她说话的方式。
　　不过她语气中带着一种意味——这还是第一次——一种友善的意味。特德•拉蒂默对此做出了回应。
　　“或许，能过得跟我在任何其他地方一样愉快。”
　　玛丽说：“我很抱歉。”
　　“不过实际上你一丁点儿都不在乎！我是个外人，一个外人有什么感受、什么想法又有什么关系呢？”
　　她转过头去看着这个愤愤不平的英俊小伙子。
　　他以挑衅的眼神回看着她。
　　她就像发现了什么似的缓缓说道：
　　“我明白了。你不喜欢我们。”
　　他不耐烦地笑了。
　　“你指望我会喜欢你们？”
　　她沉思道：
　　“你知道吗，我还真是这样盼望着。当然了，人们会把太多的事情视为理所应当。人本来应该更谦逊一些的。是啊，我的确没想到你会不喜欢我们。我们欢迎你的到来，尽力款待你，当你是凯的朋友。”
　　“可不是吗，当我是凯的朋友！”
　　这句话脱口而出，带着愤恨。
　　玛丽怀着消除敌意的真诚说道：
　　“我希望你能告诉我，真心地希望，你究竟为什么不喜欢我们？我们做了什么？我们犯了什么错误？”
　　特德•拉蒂默恶狠狠地说出了四个字：“自命不凡！”
　　“自命不凡？”玛丽并无怨怒地问道，同时心里不偏不倚地仔细掂量着这个罪名。
　　“是的，”她承认道，“我明白我们看上去可能会给人这种印象。”
　　“你们就是这样的。你们把生活中的一切美好事物都看成理所当然。你们还给自己圈出一片小天地从而把草民们拒之门外，自己则在里面高高在上，快活享乐。而像我这样的人在你们眼里跟外面的动物也没什么两样！”
　　“我很遗憾。”玛丽说。
　　“事实如此，不是吗？”
　　“不，不全是这样。或许我们很愚蠢，很刻板无趣，但我们并没有心怀恶意。我自己是个很传统的人，想必从表面上看来就是你所说的自命不凡。但是说真的，你要知道，我内心是很通人情的。此时此刻，我感到很难过，因为你并不快乐，而我希望我能够为此做些什么。”
　　“嗯……如果这么说的话，你真是太好了。”
　　停顿了一下之后，玛丽轻柔地说道：
　　“你一直都爱着凯吗？”
　　“差不多吧。”
　　“她呢？”
　　“我想也是——直到斯特兰奇出现。”玛丽温柔地说：
　　“而你还依然爱着她？”
　　“我觉得这是显而易见的。”
　　过了片刻，玛丽平静地说道：
　　“你离开这里不是更好吗？”
　　“我为什么要离开？”
　　“因为你在这里只会让自己觉得更痛苦。”
　　他看着她笑了起来。
　　“你是个好人，”他说，“不过对于在你们那个小天地周围徘徊着的动物你可就知之甚少了。在不久的将来，会发生很多事情。”
　　“什么事情？”玛丽急忙问道。
　　“走着瞧吧。”
Rose Red and Snow White（9）
　　IX
　　On their arrival at Gull's Point, Hurstall came out into the hall and spoke to Mary.
　　"Would you go up at once to her ladyship. Miss? She is feeling very upset and wanted to see you as soon as you got in."Mary hurried up the stairs. She found Lady Tressilian looking white and shaken.
　　"Dear Mary, I'm so glad you have come. I am feeling most distressed. Poor Mr. Treves is dead.""Dead?"
　　"Yes, isn't it terrible? So sudden. Apparently he didn't even get undressed last night. He must have collapsed as soon as he got home.""Oh, dear, I am sorry."
　　"One knows, of course, that he was delicate. A weak heart. I hope nothing happened while he was here to overstrain it? There was nothing indigestible for dinner?""I don't think so - no, I am sure there wasn't. He seemed quite well and in good spirits.""I am really very distressed. I wish, Mary, that you would go to the Balmoral Court and make a few inquiries of Mrs. Rogers. Ask her if there is anything we can do. And then the funeral. For Matthew's sake I would like to do anything we could. These things are so awkward at a hotel."Mary spoke firmly.
　　"Dear Camilla, you really must not worry. This has been a shock to you.""Indeed it has."
　　"I will go to the Balmoral Court at once and then come back and tell you all about things.""Thank you, Mary dear; you are always so practical and understanding." "Please try and rest now. A shock of this kind is so bad for you."Mary Aldin left the room and came downstairs. Entering the drawing-room she exclaimed: "Old Mr. Treves is dead. He died last night after returning home.""Poor old boy," exclaimed Nevile. "What was it?""Heart, apparently. He collapsed as soon as he got in."Thomas Royde said thoughtfully: "I wonder if the stairs did him in?""Stairs?" Mary looked at him inquiringly.
　　"Yes. When Latimer and I left him he was just starting up. We told him to take it slow."Mary exclaimed: "But how very foolish of him not to take the lift.""The lift was out of order."
　　"Oh, I see. How very unfortunate! Poor old man."She added: "I am going round there now. Camilla wants to know if there is anything we can do."Thomas said: "I'll come with you."
　　They walked together down the road and round the corner to the Balmoral Court.
　　Mary remarked : "I wonder if he has any relatives who ought to be notified?""He didn't mention anyone."
　　"No, and people usually do. They say 'my niece' or 'my cousin.'""Was he married?"
　　"I believe not."
　　They entered the open door of the Balmoral Court.
　　Mrs. Rogers, the proprietress, was talking to a tall middle-aged man, who raised a friendly hand in greeting to Mary.
　　"Good afternoon. Miss Aldin."
　　"Good afternoon, Dr. Lazenby. This is Mr. Royde. We came round with a message from Lady Tressilian to know if there is anything we can do.""That's very kind of you, Miss Aldin," said the hotel proprietress. "Come into my room, won't you?"They all went into the small comfortable sitting-room and Dr. Lazenby said: "Mr. Treves was dining at your place last night, wasn't he?""Yes."
　　"How did he seem? Did he show any signs of distress?""No, he seemed very well and cheerful."
　　The doctor nodded.
　　"Yes, that's the worst of these heart cases. The end is nearly always sudden. I had a look at his prescriptions upstairs and it seems quite clear that he was in a very precarious state of health. I shall communicate with his London doctor, of course.""He was very careful of himself always," said Mrs. Rogers. "And I'm sure he had every care here we could give him.""I'm sure of that, Mrs. Rogers," said the doctor tactfully. "It was just some tiny additional strain, no doubt.""Such as walking upstairs," suggested Mary.
　　"Yes, that might do it. In fact, almost certainly would - that is, if he ever walked up those three flights - but surely he never did anything of that kind?""Oh, no," said Mrs. Rogers. "He always used the lift. Always. He was most particular.""I mean," said Mary, "that with the lift being out of order last night - "Mrs. Rogers was staring at her in surprise.
　　"But the lift wasn't out of order at all yesterday. Miss Aldin.""Excuse me," said Royde. "I came home with Mr. Treves last night. There was a placard on the lift saying 'Out of order.'"Mrs. Rogers stared.
　　"Well, that's an odd thing. I'd have declared there was nothing wrong with the lift - in fact, I'm sure there wasn't. I'd have heard about it if there was. We haven't had anything go wrong with the lift (touching wood) since - oh, not for a good eighteen months. Very reliable it is.""Perhaps," suggested the doctor, "some porter or hall-boy put that notice up when he was off duty?""It's an automatic lift, doctor; it doesn't need anyone to work it." "Ah, yes, so it is. I was forgetting.""I'll have a word with Joe," said Mrs. Rogers. She bustled out of the room, calling, "Joe - Joe."Dr. Lazenby looked curiously at Thomas. "Excuse me, you're quite sure, Mr. - er -" "Royde," put in Mary. "Quite sure," said Thomas.
　　Mrs. Rogers came back with the porter. Joe was emphatic that nothing whatever had been wrong with the lift on the preceding night. There was such a placard as Thomas had described - but it was tucked away under the desk and hadn't been used for over a year.
　　They all looked at each other and agreed it was a most mysterious thing. The doctor suggested some practical joke on the part of one of the hotel visitors, and perforce they left it at that.
　　In reply to Mary's inquiries, Dr. Lazenby explained that Mr. Treves' chauffeur had given him the address of Mr. Treves' solicitors, and he was communicating with them and that he would come round and see Lady Tressilian and tell her what was going to be done about the funeral.
　　Then the busy, cheerful doctor hurried off and Mary and Thomas walked slowly back to Gull's Point.
　　Mary said: "You're quite sure you saw that notice, Thomas?""Both Latimer and I saw it."
　　"What an extraordinary thing!" said Mary.
白雪与红玫（8）
　　8
　　奥德丽穿好衣服以后沿着沙滩走去，来到了岩石最突出的地方，托马斯•罗伊德正坐在那里冲着对岸抽着烟斗，河对岸恰好矗立着洁白宁静的海鸥角。
　　托马斯转过头看着奥德丽走近，但他没有挪动。她默默地在他身边坐下。两个彼此非常熟悉的人沉浸在一种安逸的静默之中。
　　“看起来多近啊。”最终还是奥德丽打破了沉默，说道。
　　托马斯向海鸥角所在的地方看去。
　　“是啊，我们可以游回去。”
　　“这会儿的潮水可不行。卡米拉曾经有一个女仆，非常喜欢游泳，过去只要潮水合适，她经常在两岸之间游过来又游回去。那必须得是在潮水比较低或者比较高的时候——但要是赶上退潮，那水流就会把你冲到河口去。有一天她就赶上了这种事情，亏得她保持了镇静，最终安然无恙地在复活节角上了岸，只是整个人已经精疲力竭了。”
　　“没听人说过这里还这么危险啊。”
　　“不是在这边。水流在另一边，在那边悬崖下很深的地方。去年有个人想要自杀——他从斯塔克岬上纵身一跃——结果半途被悬崖上伸出来的一棵树给拦住了，最后被海岸警卫队平平安安地救了下来。”
　　“可怜的家伙，”托马斯说，“我打赌他不会感激他们的。本来下定决心来个彻底解脱，结果倒被救下来了，这种感觉肯定会让人很反感，让人觉得自己就跟个傻子似的。”
　　“也许他现在还挺高兴的呢。”奥德丽出神地说道。
　　她心里依稀想要知道那个男人此刻身在何处，又在干些什么。
　　托马斯抽了几口烟斗。他稍稍一转头就能够看到奥德丽。他注意到她的眼神越过水面注视着对岸，聚精会神，面色凝重。她长长的棕色睫毛点缀出脸颊的完美线条，还有那小巧的贝壳似的耳朵。
　　这让他忽然想起了什么。
　　“哦，对了，我捡到了你的耳环——就是你昨晚弄丢的那个。”
　　他的手指在口袋中摸索。奥德丽伸出一只手来。
　　“太好了，你在哪儿找到的？露台上吗？”
　　“不是。是在楼梯附近。你肯定是在下楼用餐的时候弄掉的。晚饭时我就注意到你没戴。”
　　“能把它找回来我真高兴。”
　　她接过了耳环。托马斯认为对于这么小的一只耳朵来说，那个耳环又大又粗重。而她今天戴在耳朵上也同样很大。
　　他说道：
　　“你即使游泳的时候也要戴着耳环。就不怕弄丢了吗？”
　　“哦，这些都是非常便宜的东西。我不喜欢不戴着耳环，因为这个。”
　　她摸了摸自己的左耳。托马斯想起来了。
　　“哦，对了，那次老邦瑟咬你来着。”
　　奥德丽点点头。
　　他们都沉默了，在脑海里重温着一段儿时的记忆。奥德丽•斯坦迪什（那时候她还叫这个名字），一个双腿细细长长的孩子，低下头把脸凑过去看爪子受了伤的老邦瑟。结果被它狠狠地咬了一口。她不得不去缝了针。现在倒是看不出什么来——只是留了一道极其细小的伤疤。
　　“我的好姑娘，”他说，“已经几乎看不出来了。你为什么还那么在意？”
　　奥德丽停顿了一下，然后带着诚意说道：
　　“那是因为……因为我忍受不了一丁点儿瑕疵。”
　　托马斯点点头。这个答案符合他对于奥德丽的了解——她那种追求完美的天性。她自身就是一件完美的杰作。
　　他突然开口说道：
　　“你比凯要漂亮多了。”
　　她立即转过头来。
　　“哦，不，托马斯。凯……凯是真的很漂亮。”
　　“只是外表，并非内心。”
　　“你这是在夸赞，”奥德丽微微打趣地说道，“我美丽的心灵吗？”
　　托马斯磕了磕烟斗里的烟灰。
　　“不是，”他说，“我指的是你的躯体。”
　　奥德丽笑了起来。
　　托马斯给烟斗重新填满了烟叶。他们足足沉默了五分钟，其间只是托马斯时不时地偷偷瞟上一眼奥德丽，而奥德丽并没有意识到。
　　最终他轻声说道：
　　“有什么不对劲吗，奥德丽？”
　　“不对劲？你说不对劲是什么意思？”
　　“就是你有点儿不对劲。有什么事情。”“没有，没什么事情。一点儿都没有。”
　　“还是有。”
　　她摇了摇头。
　　“你不愿意告诉我吗？”
　　“没什么可说的。”
　　“我想我也许是个笨蛋——不过我还是得说——”他顿了一下，“奥德丽，你就不能忘了它吗？你就不能让这一切都成为过去吗？”
　　她突然把她的小手抠进了石缝。
　　“你不理解——你也没法去理解。”
　　“但是奥德丽，亲爱的，我理解。就是这么回事，我懂。”
　　她转过头看着他，脸上带着一丝疑惑。
　　“我知道你都遭遇了什么，一清二楚。而且……而且还知道这些事情对你来说意味着什么。”
　　此刻的她面色苍白，连嘴唇都已经失去了血色。
　　“我明白了，”她说，“我以前还以为……没人知道呢。”
　　“嗯，我知道。我……我不打算谈这些。但我想让你记住的是这一切都结束了——都已经过去了。”
　　她低声说道：
　　“有些事不会过去。”
　　“听我说，奥德丽，总是沉湎在回忆中没有任何好处。就算曾经经历了地狱般的煎熬，你在心里一遍又一遍地回想也无济于事。要向前看——不要回头。你还年轻得很，你得生活下去，后面的日子还长着呢。想想明天，而不要总停留在昨天。”
　　她瞪大了眼睛，镇定地注视着他，眼神让人完全猜不透她心里的真实想法。
　　“那么，”她说，“假如我做不到呢？”
　　“但你必须做到。”
　　奥德丽柔声说道：
　　“我想你还没明白。我觉得，我……我在某些事情上……不是那么正常。”
　　他粗鲁地打断了她。
　　“胡说八道。你——”他住了口。
　　“我——怎么了？”
　　“我在想你还是个小姑娘的时候，想那时候的你——在你嫁给内维尔之前。你为什么要嫁给内维尔？”
　　奥德丽微微一笑。
　　“因为我爱上他了。”
　　“是啊，是啊，这个我知道。但你为什么会爱上他？他身上有什么东西那么吸引你？”
　　她眯起眼睛，仿佛试图要一眼看穿那个如今已经死去了的女孩。
　　“我想，”她说道，“那是因为他是如此的‘积极乐观’。他一直以来都和我截然相反。我自己总会产生一种很虚幻的感觉——不是那么真实。而内维尔就特别真实，同时还那么快乐，那么自信，那么——反正他有我所不具备的一切。”她笑了笑又补充道：“而且还特别帅气。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德愤愤不平地说：
　　“没错，完美的英国男人典范——擅长运动，态度谦逊，英俊帅气，一直都是个小小的正人君子——时时处处想要什么就有什么。”
　　奥德丽坐得笔直盯着他。
　　“你恨他，”她缓缓说道，“你非常恨他，不是吗？”
　　他避开她的眼神，转过头去用双手拢着重新点燃了已经熄灭的烟斗。
　　“就算我恨他你也不会很吃惊，对吗？”他含混不清地说道，“他拥有一切我没有的东西。他能打网球比赛，会游泳，会跳舞，还能说会道。我只是个笨嘴拙舌的白痴，一条胳膊还残废了。他一直都那么才华横溢，事业有成。我却始终是一个愚钝的蹩脚货。而且他还娶走了我唯一钟情的姑娘。”
　　她发出了一声轻微的哼声。他狠狠地说道：
　　“你始终都知道这些，不是吗？从你十五岁的时候起就知道我喜欢你。你也知道我依然喜——”
　　她打断了他的话。
　　“不。现在不了。”
　　“你什么意思——你说现在不了？”
　　奥德丽站起身来。她以平静而沉思的口吻说道：“因为……现在……我不一样了。”
　　“哪方面不一样了？”
　　他也站了起来，和她面对着面。
　　奥德丽有点儿气喘吁吁地急速说道：
　　“如果你不知道，我也不能告诉你……我自己也说不准。我只知道——”
　　她突然停下来，猛地转过身，快步绕过了岩石，向着酒店的方向走去。
　　在拐过悬崖转角的时候她碰见了内维尔。他正直挺挺地躺在那儿，眼睛死死盯着一个潮水潭。他抬眼看了一下，咧嘴一笑。
　　“嗨，奥德丽。”
　　“嗨，内维尔。”
　　“我正在看一只螃蟹。非常敏捷的小家伙。看，它就在那儿呢。”她跪了下来，顺着他指的方向看去。
　　“看见它了吗？”
　　“看见了。”
　　“吸烟吗？”
　　她接过来一支，他帮她点上火。过了片刻，在她没看他的时候，他提心吊胆地说道：
　　“我说，奥德丽？”
　　“嗯。”
　　“一切都还好，不是吗？我是说——你我之间。”“是。是的，当然。”
　　“我的意思是——我们应该还是朋友吧。”
　　“哦，是——没错，当然了。”
　　“我真心希望我们能成为朋友。”
　　他眼巴巴地看着她。她则报以紧张的一笑。
　　他轻松随意地说道：
　　“今天过得真惬意，不是吗？天气也很好，一切都很好。”“哦，对啊——对啊。”
　　“对于九月份来说真的挺热的。”
　　一阵沉默。
　　“奥德丽——”
　　她站起身来。
　　“你妻子在找你。她正朝你挥手呢。”“谁——哦，凯？”
　　“我是说你的妻子。”
　　他赶忙爬了起来，站在那里看着她。
　　他非常小声地说道：
　　“你是我的妻子，奥德丽……”
　　她扭过脸去。内维尔穿过沙滩，向着海边凯的方向跑去。
Rose Red and Snow White（10）
　　X
　　It was the 12th of September. "Only two more days," said Mary Aldin. Then she bit her lip and flushed.
　　Thomas Royde looked at her thoughtfully. "Is that how you feel about it?""I don't know what's the matter with me," said Mary. "Never in all my life have I been so anxious for a visit to come to an end. And usually we enjoy having Nevile so much. And Audrey, too."Thomas nodded.
　　"But this time," went on Mary, "one feels as though one were sitting on dynamite. At any minute the whole thing may explode. That's why I said to myself first thing this morning: 'Only two days more.' Audrey goes on Wednesday and Nevile and Kay on Thursday.""And I go on Friday," said Thomas.
　　"Oh, I'm not counting you. You've been a tower of strength. I don't know what I should have done without you.""The human buffer?"
　　"More than that. You've been so kind and so - so calm. That sounds rather ridiculous, but it really does express what I mean."Thomas looked pleased, though slightly embarrassed.
　　"I don't know why we've all been so het up," said Mary reflectively. "After all, if there were an - an outburst - it would be awkward and embarrassing, but nothing more.""But there's been more to your feeling than that.""Oh, yes, there has. A definite feeling of apprehension. Even the servants feel it. The kitchen-maid burst into tears and gave notice this morning - for no reason at all. The cook's jumpy - Hurstall is all on edge - even Barrett, who is usually as calm as a - a battleship - has shown signs of nerves. And all because Nevile had this ridiculous idea of wanting his former and his present wife to make friends and so soothe his own conscience.""In which ingenious idea he has singularly failed," remarked Thomas.
　　"Yes. Kay is - is getting quite beside herself. And really, Thomas, I can't help sympathising with her."She paused. "Did you notice the way Nevile looked after Audrey as she went up the stairs last night? He still cares about her, Thomas. The whole thing has been the most tragic mistake."Thomas started filling his pipe.
　　"He should have thought of that before," he said in a hard voice.
　　"Oh, I know. That's what one says. But it doesn't alter the fact that the whole thing is a tragedy. I can't help feeling sorry for Nevile.""People like Nevile -" began Thomas, and then stopped. "Yes?""People like Nevile think they can always have everything their own way - and have everything they want, too. I don't suppose Nevile has ever had a set-back over anything in his life till he came up against this business of Audrey. She's out of his reach. No good his making a song and dance about it. He's just got to lump it.""I suppose you're quite right. But you do sound hard. Audrey was so much in love with Nevile when she married him - and they always got on together so well.""Well, she's out of love with him now."
　　"I wonder," murmured Mary under her breath.
　　Thomas was going on: "And I'll tell you something else. Nevile had better look out for Kay. She's a dangerous kind of young woman - really dangerous. If she got her temper up she'd stop at nothing.""Oh, dear," Mary sighed and, returning to her original remarks, said hopefully: "Well, it's only two days more."Things had been very difficult for the last four or five days. The death of Mr. Treves had given Lady Tressilian a shock which had told adversely on her health. The funeral had taken place in London, for which Mary was thankful, since it enabled the old lady to take her mind off the sad event more quickly than she might have been able to do otherwise. The domestic side of the household had been very nervy and difficult and Mary really felt tired and dispirited this morning.
　　"It's partly the weather," she said aloud. "It's unnatural."It had indeed been an unusually hot and fine spell for September. On several days the thermometer had registered 70 in the shade.
　　Nevile strolled out of the house and joined them as she spoke.
　　"Blaming the weather?" he asked, with a glance up at the sky. "It is rather incredible. Hotter than ever to-day. And no wind. Makes one feel jumpy, somehow. However, I think we'll get rain before very long. To-day is just a bit too tropical to last."Thomas Royde had moved very gently and aimlessly away and now disappeared round the corner of the house.
　　"Departure of gloomy Thomas," said Nevile. "Nobody could say he shows any enjoyment of my company.""He's rather a dear," said Mary.
　　"I disagree. Narrow-minded, prejudiced sort of chap.""He always hoped to marry Audrey, I think. And then you came along and cut him out.""It would have taken him about seven years to make up his mind to ask her to marry him. Did he expect the poor girl to wait about while he made up his mind?""Perhaps," said Mary deliberately, "it will all come right now." Nevile looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
　　"True love rewarded? Audrey marry that wet fish? She's a lot too good for that. No, I don't see Audrey marrying gloomy Thomas.""I believe she is really very fond of him, Nevile.""What matchmakers you women always are! Can't you let Audrey enjoy her freedom for a bit?""If she does enjoy it, certainly."
　　Nevile said quickly: "You think she's not happy?""I really haven't the least idea."
　　"No more have I," said Nevile slowly. "One never does know what Audrey is feeling." He paused and then added, "But Audrey is one hundred per cent thoroughbred. She's white all through."Then he said, more to himself than to Mary: "God, what a damned fool I've been!"Mary went into the house a little worried. For the third time she repeated to herself the comforting words, "Only two days more."Nevile wandered restlessly about the garden and terraces.
　　Right at the end of the garden he found Audrey sitting on the low wall looking down at the water below. It was high tide and the river was full.
　　She got up at once and came towards him.
　　"I was just coming back to the house. It must be nearly tea-time."She spoke quickly and nervously without looking at him.
　　He walked beside her without speaking.
　　Only when they reached the terrace again did he say: "Can I talk to you, Audrey?"She said at once, her fingers gripping the edge of the balustrade: "I think you'd better not.""That means you know what I want to say." She did not answer.
　　"What about it, Audrey? Can't we go back to where we were? Forget everything that has happened?""Including Kay?"
　　"Kay," said Nevile, "will be sensible."
　　"What do you mean by sensible?"
　　"Simply, this. I shall go to her and tell her the truth. Fling myself on her generosity. Tell her, what is true, that you are the only woman I ever loved.""You loved Kay when you married her."
　　"My marriage to Kay was the biggest mistake I ever made. I -"He stopped. Kay had come out of the drawing-room window. She walked towards them, and before the fury in her eyes even Nevile shrank a little.
　　"Sorry to interrupt this touching scene," said Kay. "But I think it's about time I did."Audrey moved away. "I'll leave you alone," she said. Her face and voice were colourless.
　　"That's right," said Kay. "You've done all the mischief you wanted to do, haven't you? I'll deal with you later. Just now I'd rather have it out with Nevile.""Look here, Kay, Audrey has absolutely nothing to do with this. It's not her fault. Blame me if you like -""And I do like," said Kay. Her eyes blazed at Nevile. "What sort of a man do you think you are?""A pretty poor sort of man," said Nevile bitterly.
　　"You leave your wife, come bull-headed after me, get your wife to give you a divorce. Crazy about me one minute, tired of me the next! Now I suppose you want to go back to that whey-faced, mewling, double-crossing little cat -""Stop that, Kay!"
　　"Well, what do you want?"
　　Nevile was very white. He said: "I'm every kind of a worm you like to call me. But it's no good, Kay, I can't go on. I think - really -I must have loved Audrey all the time. My love for you was - was a kind of madness. But it's no good, my dear -you and I don't belong. I shouldn't be able to make you happy in the long run. Believe me, Kay, it's better to cut our losses. Let's try and part friends. Be generous."Kay said in a deceptively quiet voice: "What exactly are you suggesting?"Nevile did not look at her. His chin took on a dogged angle. "We can get a divorce. You can divorce me for desertion." "Not for some time. You'll have to wait for it." "I'll wait," said Nevile.
　　"And then, after three years or whatever it is, you'll ask dear sweet Audrey to marry you all over again?""If she'll have me."
　　"She'll have you, all right!" said Kay viciously. "And where do I come in?""You'll be free to find a better man than I am. Naturally, I shall see you're well provided for -""Cut out the bribes!" Her voice rose as she lost control of herself: "Listen to me, Nevile. You can't do this thing to me! I'll not divorce you. I married you because I loved you. I know when you started turning against me. It was after I let you know I followed you to Estoril. You wanted to think it was all Fate. It upset your vanity to think it was me. Well, I'm not ashamed of what I did. You fell in love with me and married me and I'm not going to let you go back to that sly little cat who's got her hooks into you again. She meant this to happen - but she's not going to bring it off! I'll kill you first. Do you hear? I'll kill you. I'll kill her, too. I'll see you both dead. I'll -"Nevile took a step forward and caught her by the arm.
　　"Shut up, Kay. For goodness' sake. You can't make this kind of scene here.""Can't I? You'll see. I'll -"
　　Hurstall stepped out on the terrace. His face was quite impassive.
　　"Tea is served in the drawing-room," he announced.
　　Kay and Nevile walked slowly towards the drawing-room window. Hurstall stood aside to let them pass in. Up in the sky the clouds were gathering.
Rose Red and Snow White（11）
　　XI
　　The rain started falling at a quarter to seven. Nevile watched it from the window of his bedroom. He had no further conversation with Kay. They had avoided each other after tea.
　　Dinner that evening was a stilted, difficult meal. Nevile was sunk in abstraction; Kay's face had an unusual amount of make-up for her; Audrey sat like a frozen ghost. Mary Aldin did her best to keep some kind of a conversation going and was slightly annoyed with Thomas Royde for not playing up to her better.
　　Hurstall was nervous and his hands trembled as he handed the vegetables.
　　As the meal drew to a close Neville said with elaborate casualness: "Think I shall go over to Easterhead after dinner and look up Latimer. We might have a game of billiards.""Take the latchkey," said Mary. "In case you're back late.""Thanks, I will."
　　They went into the drawing-room, where coffee was served.
　　The turning on of the wireless and the news was a welcome diversion.
　　Kay, who had been yawning ostentatiously ever since dinner, said she would go up to bed. She had a headache, she said.
　　"Have you got any aspirin?" asked Mary. "Yes, thank you."Kay left the room.
　　Nevile turned the wireless on to a programme with music. He sat silent on the sofa for some time. He did not look once at Audrey, but sat huddled up, looking like an unhappy little boy. Against her will, Mary felt quite sorry for him.
　　"Well," he said at last, rousing himself. "Better be off if I'm going." "Are you taking your car or going by ferry?""Oh, ferry. No sense in going a round of fifteen miles. I shall enjoy a bit of a walk.""It's raining, you know."
　　"I know. I've got a Burberry." He went towards the door.
　　"Good night."
　　In the hall Barrett came to him.
　　"If you please, sir, will you go up to Lady Tressilian? She wants to see you specially."Nevile glanced at the clock. It was already ten o'clock.
　　He shrugged his shoulders and went upstairs and along the corridor to Lady Tressilian's room and tapped on the door. While he waited for her to say come in, he heard the voices of the others in the hall down below. Everybody was going to bed early to-night, it seemed.
　　"Come in," said Lady Tressilian's clear voice. Nevile went in, shutting the door behind him.
　　Lady Tressilian was all ready for the night. All the lights were extinguished except one reading-lamp by her bed. She had been reading, but she now laid down the book. She looked at Nevile over the top of her spectacles. It was, somehow, a formidable glance.
　　"I want to speak to you, Nevile," she said. In spite of himself, Nevile smiled faintly. "Yes, Headmaster," he said. Lady Tressilian did not smile.
　　"There are certain things, Nevile, that I will not permit in my house. I have no wish to listen to anybody's private conversations, but if you and your wife insist on shouting at each other exactly under my bedroom windows, I can hardly fail to hear what you say. I gather that you were outlining a plan whereby Kay was to divorce you and in due course you would remarry Audrey. That, Nevile, is a thing you simply cannot do and I will not hear of it for a moment."Nevile seemed to be making an effort to control his temper.
　　"I apologise for the scene," he said shortly. "As for the rest of what you say, surely that is my business!""No, it is not. You have used my house in order to get into touch with Audrey - or else Audrey has used it -""She has done nothing of the sort. She -"Lady Tressilian stopped him with upraised hand.
　　"Anyway, you can't do this thing, Nevile. Kay is your wife. She has certain rights of which you cannot deprive her. In this matter I am entirely on Kay's side. You have made your bed and must lie upon it. Your duty now is to Kay and I'm telling you so plainly -"Nevile took a step forward. His voice rose: "This is nothing whatever to do with you -""What is more," Lady Tressilian swept on, regardless of his protest, "Audrey leaves this house to-morrow -""You can't do that! I won't stand for it -""Don't shout at me, Nevile."
　　"I tell you I won't have it -"
　　Somewhere along the passage a door shut ...
A Fine Italian Hand（3）
　　III
　　Battle and Leach stood in the doorway of the well-furnished handsome bedroom. On the floor in front of them a police officer was carefully testing for fingerprints the handle of a golf club - a heavy niblick. The head of the club was blood-stained and had one or two white hairs sticking to it.
　　By the bed Dr. Lazenby, who was police surgeon for the district, was bending over the body of Lady Tressilian.
　　He straightened up with a sigh.
　　"Perfectly straightforward. She was hit from in front with terrific force. First blow smashed in the bone and killed her, but the murderer struck again to make sure. I won't give you fancy terms - just the plain horse sense of it.""How long has she been dead?" asked Leach. "I'd put it between ten o'clock and midnight." "You can't go nearer than that?""I'd rather not. All sorts of factors to take into account. We don't hang people on rigor mortis nowadays. Not earlier than ten, not later than midnight.""And she was hit with this niblick?" The doctor glanced over at it.
　　"Presumably. Luck, though, that the murderer left it behind. I couldn't have deduced a niblick from the wound. As it happens, the sharp end of the club didn't touch the head - it was the angled back of the club that must have hit her.""Wouldn't that have been rather difficult to do?" asked Leach.
　　"If it had been done on purpose, yes," agreed the doctor. "I can only suppose that by a rather odd chance it just happened that way."Leach was raising his hands, instinctively trying to re-construct the blow. "Awkward," he commented.
　　"Yes," said the doctor thoughtfully. "The whole thing was awkward. She was struck, you see, on the right temple - but whoever did it must have stood on the right-hand side of the bed - facing the head of the bed - there's no room on the left, the angle from the wall is too small."Leach pricked up his ears. "Left-handed?" he queried.
　　"You won't get me to commit myself on that point," said Lazenby. "Far too many snags. I'll say, if you like, that the easiest explanation is that the murderer was left-handed - but there are other ways of accounting for it. Suppose, for instance, the old lady had turned her head slightly to the left just as the man hit. Or he may have previously moved the bed out, stood on the left of it and afterwards moved the bed back.""Not very likely- that last.""Perhaps not, but it might have happened. I've had some experience in these things, and I can tell you, my boy, deducing that a murderous blow was struck left-handed is full of pitfalls."Detective Sergeant Jones from the floor remarked, "This golf club is the ordinary right-handed kind."Leach nodded. "Still, it mayn't have belonged to the man who used it. It was a man, I suppose, doctor?""Not necessarily. If the weapon was that heavy niblick a woman could have landed a terrible swipe with it."Superintendent Battle said in his quiet voice: "But you couldn't swear that that was the weapon, could you, doctor?"Lazenby gave him a quick, interested glance.
　　"No. I can only swear that it might have been the weapon, and that presumably it was the weapon. I'll analyse the blood on it, make sure that it's the same blood group - also the hairs.""Yes," said Battle approvingly. "It's always as well to be thorough."Lazenby asked curiously: "Got any doubts about that golf club yourself. Superintendent?"Battle shook his head.
　　"Oh, no, no. I'm a simple man. Like to believe the things I see with my eyes. She was hit with something heavy - that's heavy. It has blood and hair on it, therefore presumably her blood and hair. Ergo - that was the weapon used."Leach asked: "Was she awake or asleep when she was hit?""In my opinion, awake. There's astonishment on her face. I'd say - this is just a private personal opinion - that she didn't expect what was going to happen. There's no sign of any attempt to fight - and no horror or fear. I'd say offhand that either she had just woken up from sleep and was hazy and didn't take things in - or else she recognised her assailant as someone who could not possibly wish to harm her.""The bedside lamp was on and nothing else," said Leach thoughtfully.
　　"Yes, that cuts either way. She may have turned it on when she was suddenly woken up by someone entering her room. Or it may have been on already."Detective Sergeant Jones rose to his feet. He was smiling appreciatively. "Lovely set of prints on that club," he said. "Clear as anything!" Leach gave a deep sigh. "That ought to simplify things.""Obliging chap," said Dr. Lazenby. "Left the weapon - left his fingerprints on it -wonder he didn't leave his visiting card!""It might be," said Superintendent Battle, "that he just lost his head. Some do."The doctor nodded.
　　"True enough. Well, I must go and look after my other patient.""What patient?" Battle sounded suddenly interested.
　　"I was sent for by the butler before this was discovered. Lady Tressilian's maid was found in a coma this morning.""What was wrong with her?""Heavily doped with one of the barbiturates. She's pretty bad, but she'll pull round.""The maid?" said Battle. His rather ox-like eyes went heavily to the big bell-pull, the tassel of which rested on the pillow near the dead woman's hand.
　　Lazenby nodded.
　　"Exactly. That's the first thing Lady Tressilian would have done if she'd cause to feel alarm - pull that bell and summon the maid. Well, she could have pulled it till all was blue. The maid wouldn't have heard.""That was taken care of, was it?" said Battle. "You're sure of that? She wasn't in the habit of taking sleeping draughts?""I'm positive she wasn't. There's not a sign of such a thing in her room. And I've found out how it was given to her. Senna pods. She drank off a brew of senna pods every night. The stuff was in that."Superintendent Battle scratched his chin.
　　"H'm," he said. "Someone knew all about this house. You know, doctor, this is a very odd sort of murder.""Well," said Lazenby, "that's your business.""He's a good man, our doctor," said Leach when Lazenby had left the room.
　　The two men were alone now. The photographs had been taken, and measurements recorded. The two police officers knew every fact that was to be known about the room where the crime had been committed.
　　Battle nodded in answer to his nephew's remark. He seemed to be puzzling over something.
　　"Do you think anyone could have handled that club - with gloves on, say, after those fingerprints were made?"Leach shook his head.
　　"I don't, and no more do you. You couldn't grasp that club - not use it, I mean, without smearing those prints. They weren't smeared. They were as clear as clear. You saw for yourself."Battle agreed.
　　"And now we ask very nicely and politely if everyone will allow us to take their fingerprints - no compulsion, of course. And everyone will say yes - and then one of two things will happen. Either none of these fingerprints will agree, or else -""Or else we'll have got our man?""I suppose so. Or our woman, perhaps."
　　Leach shook his head. "No, not a woman. Those prints on the club were a man's. Too big for a woman's. Besides, this isn't a woman's crime.""No," agreed Battle. "Quite a man's crime. Brutal, masculine, rather athletic and slightly stupid. Know anybody in the house like that?""I don't know anyone in the house yet. They're all together in the dining-room." Battle moved towards the door.
　　"We'll go and have a look at them." He glanced over his shoulder at the bed, shook his head and remarked: "I don't like that bell-pull.""What about it?""It doesn't fit."
　　He added as he opened the door: "Who wanted to kill her, I wonder? A lot of cantankerous old ladies about just asking for a tap on the skull. She doesn't look that sort. I should think she was liked." He paused a minute and then asked: "Well off, wasn't she? Who gets her money?"Leach answered the implication of the words: "You've hit it! That will be the answer. It's one of the first things to find out."As they went downstairs together Battle glanced at the list in his hand. He read out: "Miss Aldin, Mr. Royde, Mr. Strange, Mrs. Strange, Mrs. Audrey Strange. H'm, seems a lot of the Strange family.""Those are his two wives, I understand."Battle's eyebrows rose and he murmured: "Bluebeard, is he?"The family were assembled round the dining-room table, where they had made a pretence of eating.
　　Superintendent Battle glanced keenly at the faces turned to him. He was sizing them up after his own peculiar methods. His view of them might have surprised them had they known it. It was a sternly biased view. No matter what the law pretends as to regarding people as innocent until they are proved guilty, Superintendent Battle always regarded everyone connected with a murder case as a potential murderer.
　　He glanced from Mary Aldin, sitting upright and pale at the head of the table, to Thomas Royde, filling a pipe beside her, to Audrey sitting with her chair pushed back, a coffee cup and saucer in her right hand, a cigarette in her left, to Nevile, looking dazed and bewildered, trying with a shaking hand to light a cigarette, to Kay, with her elbows on the table and the pallor of her face showing through her make-up.
　　These were Superintendent Battle's thoughts: Suppose that's Miss Aldin. Cool customer - competent woman, I should say. Won't catch her off her guard easily. Man next to her is a dark horse - got a groggy arm - poker face - got an inferiority complex, as likely as not. That's one of these wives, I suppose - she's scared to death - yes, she's scared all right. Funny about that coffee cup. That's Strange; I've seen him before somewhere. He's got the jitters all right - nerves shot to pieces. Red-headed girl's a tartar - devil of a temper. Brains as well as temper, though.
　　Whilst he was thus sizing them up Inspector Leach was making a stiff little speech. Mary Aldin mentioned everyone present by name.
　　She ended up: "It has been a terrible shock to us, of course, but we are anxious to help you in any way we can.""To begin with," said Leach, holding it up, "does anybody know anything about this golf club?"With a little cry, Kay said, "How horrible! Is that what -" and stopped.
　　Nevile Strange got up and came round the table.
　　"Looks like one of mine. Can I just see?""It's quite all right now," said Inspector Leach. "You can handle it."That little significant "now" did not seem to produce any reaction in the onlookers. Nevile examined the club.
　　"I think it's one of the niblicks out of my bag," he said. "I can tell you for sure in a minute or two. If you will just come with me." They followed him to a big cupboard under the stairs. He flung open the door of it and to Battle's confused eyes it seemed literally crowded with tennis racquets. At the same time, he remembered where he had seen Nevile Strange before. He said quickly: "I've seen you play at Wimbledon, sir."Nevile half turned his head. "Oh, yes, have you?"He was throwing aside some of the racquets. There were two golf bags in the cupboard leaning up against fishing tackle.
　　"Only my wife and I play golf," explained Nevile. "And that's a man's club. Yes, that's right - it's mine."He had taken out his bag, which contained at least fourteen clubs.
　　Inspector Leach thought to himself: "These athletic chaps certainly take themselves seriously. Wouldn't like to be his caddy."Nevile was saying: "It's one of Walter Hudosn's niblicks from St. Esbert's." "Thank you, Mr. Strange. That settles one question."Nevile said: "What beats me is that nothing was taken. And the house doesn't seem to have been broken into?" His voice was bewildered - but it was also frightened.
　　Battle said to himself: "They've been thinking it out, all of them ..." "The servants," said Nevile, "are absolutely harmless.""I shall talk to Miss Aldin about the servants," said Inspector Leach smoothly. "In the meantime, I wonder if you could give me any idea who Lady Tressilian's solicitors are?""Askwith & Trelawny," replied Nevile promptly. "St. Loo.""Thank you, Mr. Strange. We shall have to find out from them all about Lady Tressilian's property.""Do you mean," asked Nevile, "who inherits her money?" "That's right, sir. Her will, and all that.""I don't know about her will," said Nevile. "She had not very much of her own to leave, so far as I know. I can tell you about the bulk of her property.""Yes, Mr. Strange?""It comes to me and my wife under the will of the late Sir Matthew Tressilian. Lady Tressilian only had a life interest in it.""Indeed, is that so?" Inspector Leach looked at Nevile with the interested attention of someone who spots a possibly valuable addition to his pet collection. The look made Nevile wince nervously. Inspector Leach went on, and his voice was impossibly genial: "You've no idea of the amount, Mr. Strange?""I couldn't tell you offhand. In the neighbourhood of a hundred thousand pounds, I believe.""In-deed. To each of you?" "No, divided between us." "I see. A very considerable sum."Nevile smiled. He said quietly: "I've got plenty to live on of my own, you know, without hankering to step into dead people's shoes."Inspector Leach looked shocked at having such ideas attributed to him.
　　They went back into the dining-room and Leach said his next little piece. This was on the subject of fingerprints - a matter of routine - elimination of those of the household in the dead woman's bedroom.
　　Everyone expressed willingness - almost eagerness - to have their fingerprints taken. They were shepherded into the library for that purpose, where Detective Sergeant Jones was waiting for them with his little roller.
　　Battle and Leach began on the servants.
　　Nothing very much was to be got from them. Hurstall explained his system of locking up the house and swore that he had found it untouched in the morning. There were no signs of any entry by an intruder. The front door, he explained, had been left on the latch. That is to say, it was not bolted, but could be opened from outside with a key. It was left like that because Mr. Nevile had gone over to Easterhead Bay and would be back late.
　　"Do you know what time he came in?"
　　"Yes, sir. I think it was about half-past two. Someone came back with him, I think. I heard voices and then a car drive away and then I heard the door close and Mr. Nevile come upstairs.""What time did he leave here last night for Easterhead Bay?" "About twenty past ten. I heard the door close."Leach nodded. There did not seem to be much more to be got from Hurstall at the moment. He interviewed the others. They were all disposed to be nervous and frightened, but no more so than was natural under the circumstances.
　　Leach looked questioningly at his uncle as the door closed behind the slightly hysterical kitchen-maid, who had tailed the procession.
　　Battle said: "Have the housemaid back - not the pop-eyed one - the tall thin bit of vinegar. She knows something."Emma Wales was clearly uneasy. It alarmed her that this time it was the big square elderly man who took upon himself the task of questioning her.
　　"I'm just going to give you a bit of advice. Miss Wales," he said pleasantly. "It doesn't do, you know, to hold anything back from the police. Makes them look at you unfavourably, if you understand what I mean -"Emma Wales protested indignantly, but uneasily: "I'm sure I never -""Now, now." Battle held up a large, square hand. "You saw something or else you heard something - what was it?""I didn't exactly hear it -I mean, I couldn't help hearing it - Mr. Hurstall, he heard it, too. And I don't think, not for a moment I don't, that it had anything to do with the murder.""Probably not, probably not. Just tell us what it was.""Well, I was going up to bed. Just after ten it was - and I'd slipped along first to put Miss Aldin's hot-water bottle in her bed. Summer or winter she always has one, and so of course I had to pass by her ladyship's door.""Go on," said Battle.
　　"And I heard her and Mr. Nevile going at it hammer and tongs. Voices right up. Shouting, he was. Oh, it was a proper quarrel!""Remember exactly what was said?""Well, I wasn't really listening, as you might say.""No. But still you must have heard some of the words.""Her ladyship was saying as she wouldn't have something or other going on in her house, and Mr. Nevile was saying, 'Don't you dare say anything against her.' All worked up he was."Battle, with an expressionless face, tried once more, but he could get no more out of her. In the end he dismissed the woman.
　　He and Jim looked at each other. Leach said, after a minute or two: "Jones ought to be able to tell us something about those prints by now."Battle asked: "Who's doing the rooms?""Williams. He's a good man. He won't miss anything.""You're keeping the occupants out of them?""Yes, until Williams has finished."The door opened at that minute and young Williams put his head in.
　　"There's something I'd like you to see. In Mr. Nevile Strange's room."They got up and followed him to the suite on the west side of the house.
　　Williams pointed to a heap on the floor. A dark blue coat, trousers and waistcoat.
　　Leach said sharply: "Where did you find this?""Bundled down into the bottom of the wardrobe. Just look at this, sir."He picked up the coat and showed the edges of the dark blue cuffs.
　　"See those dark stains? That's blood, sir, or I'm a Dutchman. And see here, it's spattered all up the sleeve.""H'm." Battle avoided the other's eager eyes. "Looks bad for young Nevile, I must say. Any other suit in the room?""Dark grey pinstripe hanging over a chair. Lot of water on the floor here by the wash-basin.""Looking as though he washed the blood off himself in the devil of a hurry? Yes. It's near the open window, though, and the rain has come in a good deal.""Not enough to make those pools on the floor, sir. They're not dried up yet."Battle was silent. A picture was forming itself before his eyes. A man with blood on his hands and sleeves, flinging off his clothes, bundling the bloodstained garments into the cupboard, sluicing water furiously over his hands and bare arms.
　　He looked across at the door in the other wall.
　　Williams answered the look.
　　"Mrs. Strange's room, sir. The door is locked.""Locked? On this side?""No. On the other."
　　"On her side, eh?"
　　Battle was reflective for a minute or two. He said at last: "Let's see that old butler again."Hurstall was nervous. Leach said crisply: "Why didn't you tell us, Hurstall, that you overheard a quarrel between Mr. Strange and Lady Tressilian last night?"The old man blinked.
　　"I really didn't think twice about it, sir. I don't imagine it was what you'd call a quarrel - just an amicable difference of opinion."Resisting the temptation to say: "Amicable difference of opinion, my foot!" Leach went on: "What suit was Mr. Strange wearing last night at dinner?"Hurstall hesitated. Battle said quietly: "Dark blue suit or grey pinstripe? I dare say someone else can tell us if you don't remember."Hurstall broke his silence.
　　"I remember now, sir. It was his dark blue. The family," he added, anxious not to lose prestige, "have not been in the habit of changing into evening dress during the summer months. They frequently go out after dinner - sometimes in the garden, sometimes down to the quay."Battle nodded. Hurstall left the room. He passed Jones in the doorway. Jones looked excited.
　　He said: "It's a cinch, sir. I've got all their prints. There's only one lot fits the bill. Of course, I've only been able to make a rough comparison as yet, but I'll bet they're the right ones.""Well?" said Battle.
　　"The prints on that niblick handle, sir, were made by Mr. Nevile Strange."Battle leant back in his chair.
　　"Well," he said, "that seems to settle it, doesn't it?"
白雪与红玫（10）
　　10
　　这一天是九月十二日。“只剩两天了。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。说完她就咬着嘴唇，满脸通红。
　　托马斯•罗伊德若有所思地看着她。
　　“这就是你对这件事的看法？”
　　“我也不知道是怎么了，”玛丽说道，“我这辈子还从来没有这么急切地盼望着来访的客人赶紧回去呢。通常我们都特别喜欢内维尔来。对奥德丽也是一样。”
　　托马斯点点头。
　　“不过这一次，”玛丽继续说道，“给人的感觉就像是坐在火药桶上了似的。这东西随时都有可能爆炸。这也是为什么我今天早晨对自己说的头一句话就是：‘只剩两天了。’奥德丽星期三走，内维尔和凯是星期四。”
　　“而我星期五走。”托马斯说。
　　“哦，我可没把你算在内。你已经成了我们的主心骨。我都不知道如果没有你，我该怎么办。”
　　“就像个和事佬？”
　　“远不止这个。你一直都那么善解人意，那么……那么处变不惊。这话听起来可能有点儿可笑，不过我真是这么想的。”
　　尽管有点儿难为情，但托马斯看上去还是很高兴。
　　“我不知道大家为什么都那么心绪不宁，”玛丽沉思着说道，“说到底，如果要是……要是真有什么事情爆发出来的话，肯定会让人觉得既尴尬又难堪，不过最多也就是这样了吧。”
　　“但你的感受可并非仅此而已。”
　　“噢，是的，不仅如此。那是一种确定无疑的担忧和恐惧。甚至仆人们都能感觉出来。
　　今天早上厨房的女佣就突然放声大哭，说要辞职不干了——完全无缘无故。厨子神经兮兮的，赫尔斯多坐立不安，就连一向稳如泰山的芭雷特都露出了紧张的迹象。而所有这些都得怪内维尔，就为了安抚他自己的良心，想出了这么个让前妻和现任太太交朋友的荒唐点子。”
　　“这个别出心裁的主意可算是一败涂地了。”托马斯说道。
　　“就是。凯都快疯了。而且说真的，托马斯，我都忍不住要同情她。”她停顿了一下，“昨天晚上你注意到奥德丽上楼的时候内维尔在她身后看着她的眼神了吗？他依然在乎她，托马斯。这件事从头到尾就是个悲剧性的错误。”
　　托马斯开始填他的烟斗。
　　“他事先就应该想到。”他冷冷地说道。
　　“噢，我知道。大家肯定得这么说。不过这也改变不了整件事是一出悲剧的事实。我没法不替内维尔感到难过。”
　　“像内维尔这样的人——”托马斯欲言又止。
　　“怎么样？”
　　“像内维尔这样的人总是认为他们可以随心所欲，而且想要什么就有什么。我觉得内维尔这辈子在摊上奥德丽这件事之前怕是还没有碰过什么钉子。好了，这下子碰上了。他得不到奥德丽。她让他触不可及。就算小题大做也没什么用，他只能咽下这口气了。”
　　“我觉得你说得很有道理。不过这话听起来真是挺残忍的。奥德丽嫁给内维尔的时候可是深爱着他，而且他们一直都很合得来。”
　　“嗯，现在她已经不爱他了。”
　　“对此我不清楚。”玛丽窃窃低语道。
　　托马斯继续说道：
　　“而且我还要告诉你一些别的事。内维尔最好提防着点儿凯。她是那种很危险的女人，又年轻气盛——是真的危险。如果她发起脾气来可是会不择手段的。”
　　“唉，”玛丽叹了口气，又满怀希望地重复了一遍她最初说的那句话，“好了，只剩两天了。”
　　最近的四五天非常难熬。特里夫斯先生的死给了特雷西利安夫人一个沉重打击，对她的健康状况造成了不利影响。让玛丽感到庆幸的是，葬礼已经在伦敦举行完了，这样一来就能够让老夫人从这次不幸事件中更快地解脱，否则的话不知道她还要沉浸于其中多久。
　　全家人都已经极其紧张不安了，玛丽在这个早晨也感觉到疲惫不堪，心灰意懒。
　　“在一定程度上也是这天气闹的，”她大声说道，“太反常了。”
　　这段日子一直是晴朗炎热，对于九月份来说的确不太正常。有那么几天即使在阴凉的地方，温度计也能够达到七十华氏度。
　　话音未落，只见内维尔溜溜达达踱出了屋子，来到他们身边。
　　“在埋怨天气呢？”他一边抬眼看了看天一边问道，“是有些不可思议。今天居然比哪天都热，而且还没有风。让人莫名其妙地心浮气躁。不过，我觉得用不了多久我们就能盼来雨天了。只是今天也有点儿太热了，简直受不了。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德漫无目的又悄无声息地走开了，很快他的身影便消失在了房子的拐角处。
　　“闷闷不乐的托马斯走了，”内维尔说，“我一来他就不高兴，是个人都能看出来。”
　　“他是个挺好的人。”玛丽说。
　　“我不敢苟同。他就是那种心胸狭隘还满怀成见的家伙。”
　　“我想，他一直希望能娶奥德丽为妻。结果后来你不期而至，把他挤走了。”
　　“那他会花上差不多七年时间才能下定决心向她求婚。可难道他真的指望那个可怜的姑娘会一直等到他下决心？”
　　“或许，”玛丽不慌不忙地说道，“这一切马上就要发生了。”
　　内维尔看着她，一边的眉毛扬了起来。
　　“真爱得到回报啦？奥德丽会嫁给那个窝囊废？他可太配不上她了。不，我可不认为奥德丽会嫁给闷闷不乐的托马斯。”
　　“我相信她真的很喜欢他，内维尔。”
　　“你们这些女人总是喜欢乱点鸳鸯谱！就不能让奥德丽稍微享受一下她的自由生活吗？”
　　“如果她真的享受这些，那当然可以。”
　　内维尔立刻说道：
　　“你觉得她不快乐吗？”
　　“我真的一点儿都不知道。”
　　“我知道的也不比你多，”内维尔慢条斯理地说，“没人真的了解奥德丽心里在想什么。”他停顿了一下又添上一句，“不过奥德丽可是个百分之百有涵养的人，白璧无瑕。”
　　随后，与其说他是在对玛丽说话，莫不如说是在自言自语：
　　“天哪，我可真是傻到家了！”
　　玛丽带着几分惴惴不安走回屋里。她第三次对自己重复了那句宽心话：“只剩两天了。”
　　内维尔在花园和露台周围踱来踱去，心绪不宁。
　　他发现奥德丽正好坐在花园尽头的矮墙上望着下方的水面。此刻恰逢涨潮时分，河水满溢。
　　她立刻站起身，向他走来。
　　“我正要回屋去，应该快到下午茶时间了。”
　　她语速急促，透出焦急，看都没看他一眼。
　　他在她身旁走着，一言不发。
　　直到他们再次来到露台之上，他才开口说道：
　　“我能跟你谈谈吗，奥德丽？”
　　她的手紧紧抓着围墙边缘，立即说道：“我觉得你最好别跟我谈。”“那就意味着你知道我想要说什么。”
　　她没有回应。
　　“怎么样啊，奥德丽？难道我们不能回到当初吗？不能忘掉已经发生过的一切吗？”
　　“也包括凯？”
　　“凯，”内维尔说，“会通情达理的。”
　　“你说通情达理是什么意思？”
　　“简单说吧。我会到她面前，把事实告诉她，请求她宽宏大量。告诉她你才是我唯一爱过的女人，千真万确。”
　　“你和凯结婚的时候是爱着她的。”
　　“我和凯结婚是我这辈子犯过的最大错误。我——”
　　他突然住了口。凯已经从客厅的落地窗走了出来。她向他们走来，面对她怒火中烧的眼神，就连内维尔也有点儿畏缩了。
　　“真抱歉打断了你们这么感人的场景，”凯说，“不过我觉得我来得正是时候。”
　　奥德丽抽身离开。“我不打扰你们了。”她说。
　　她面色苍白，语气平淡。
　　“对啊，”凯说，“你已经如你所愿地使完所有坏了，不是吗？回头我会找你算账的。现在我得先跟内维尔把话挑明了。”
　　“听我说，凯，奥德丽跟这件事一丁点儿关系都没有。这不是她的错。你非要怪那就怪我——”
　　“我是要怪你，”凯说。她的眼睛死死盯着内维尔，像要喷出火来。“你以为你是个什么样的男人？”
　　“一个相当可怜的男人。”内维尔痛苦地说道。
　　“你抛下老婆，一根筋地追求我，搞得你老婆跟你离了婚。前一秒还爱我爱得发狂，下一秒你就嫌我烦！现在我猜你是想要回到那个脸色惨白、嘤嘤作态、两面三刀的小恶妇那儿去喽——”
　　“住口，凯！”
　　“行啊，你想怎么样？”
　　内维尔已经面无血色，他说道：
　　“可怜虫，软蛋，懦夫，你爱怎么叫就随你怎么叫，但那也没什么用了，凯。我继续不下去了。我想——说真的——我肯定一直都爱着奥德丽。我对你的爱就是……就是一种迷恋。不过那也无济于事，亲爱的——咱俩合不来。说到底，我没本事让你快乐。相信我，凯，及早分开会更好些。我们试着心平气和地分手吧，大度一些。”
　　凯故作平静地说道：
　　“你究竟在说什么啊？”
　　内维尔并没看着她。他紧绷的下巴显示出坚定不移的决心。
　　“我们可以离婚。你可以因为我遗弃你而跟我离婚。”
　　“现在没门儿。你就等着吧。”
　　“我会等的。”内维尔说。
　　“然后呢，三年以后或者不管怎么样，你就可以请求温柔可爱的奥德丽再一次嫁给你了？”
　　“如果她还要我的话。”
　　“她肯定要你啊！”凯恶狠狠地说道，“那我上哪儿去？”
　　“你就自由了，可以去找一个比我好的男人。当然了，我会做好安排，确保你衣食无忧——”
　　“别想收买我！”她终于控制不住自己，嗓门也提高了，“听我说，内维尔。你不能对我这么干！我不会和你离婚的。我当初嫁给你是因为我爱你。我也知道你是打什么时候开始反感我的。就是在我让你知道是我尾随着你去了埃什托里尔那件事之后。你本希望那一切都是天意，是命中注定。可一想到其实这些都出自我的一手策划，就让你的虚荣心遭受了打击。好啊，我不为自己的所作所为感到羞耻。你爱上了我，然后娶了我，我才不会让你回到那个又一次勾引上你的狡猾的小恶妇那儿去呢。她处心积虑要这么做——但这次她得逞不了！我要先杀了你。你听明白了吗？我要杀了你。我还要杀了她。我要看着你们俩死。我要——”
　　内维尔上前一步抓住了她的胳膊。
　　“闭嘴吧，凯。看在老天爷的分上。你不能在这儿这么大吵大闹。”
　　“我不能吗？你走着瞧。我会——”
　　这时赫尔斯多来到了露台之上，脸上毫无表情。
　　“茶点已经在客厅里准备好了。”他宣布道。
　　凯和内维尔慢慢地向客厅的落地窗走去。
　　赫尔斯多闪在一旁给他们让开了路。
　　天空中，乌云开始聚集。
Rose Red and Snow White（12）
　　XII
　　Alice Bentham, the gooseberry-eyed housemaid, came to Mrs. Spicer, the cook, in some perturbation.
　　"Oh, Mrs. Spicer, I don't rightly know what I ought to do." "What's the matter, Alice?""It's Miss Barrett. I took her in her cup of tea over an hour ago. Fast asleep she was, and never woke up, but I didn't like to do much. And then, five minutes ago, I went in again because she hadn't come down and her ladyship's tea all ready and waiting for her to take in. So I went in again and she's sleeping ever so -I can't stir her.""Have you shaken her?"
　　"Yes, Mrs. Spicer. I shook her hard - but she just goes on lying there and she's ever such a horrid colour.""Goodness, she's not dead, is she?"
　　"Oh, no, Mrs. Spicer, because I can hear her breathing, but it's funny breathing. I think she's ill or something.""Well, I'll go up and see myself. You take in her ladyship's tea. Better make a fresh pot. She'll be wondering what's happened."Alice obediently did as she was told, whilst Mrs. Spicer went up to the second floor.
　　Taking the tray along the corridor, Alice knocked at Lady Tressilian's door. After knocking twice and getting no answer she went in. A moment later there was a crash of broken crockery and a series of wild screams, and Alice came rushing out of the room and down the stairs to where Hurstall was crossing the hall to the dining-room.
　　"Oh, Mr. Hurstall - there've been burglars and her ladyship's dead - killed - with a gr
白雪与红玫（11）
　　11
　　六点四十五分的时候，雨开始下起来。内维尔从他卧室的窗户里向外望着。他没再和凯说过话。下午茶过后他们就开始回避彼此。
　　那天的晚餐大家吃得都有点儿别扭，气氛很不自然。内维尔一直心不在焉；凯化了异乎寻常的浓妆；奥德丽坐在那里一动不动，仿佛一个幽灵。玛丽•奥尔丁尽其所能地想要找些话题来说，就因为托马斯•罗伊德没能好好配合，她还有些恼火。
　　赫尔斯多也显得惶恐不安，端蔬菜上来的时候他的手颤抖不已。
　　晚餐接近尾声时，内维尔尽力做出一副漫不经心的样子说道：“饭后我得去一趟复活节海岬，拜访一下拉蒂默。我们没准儿会打上一局台球。”
　　“带上门钥匙，”玛丽说，“万一你要晚回来呢。”
　　“谢谢，我会的。”
　　他们来到客厅里，咖啡已经备好了。
　　打开无线电收音机听听新闻算是个让人愉快的消遣。
　　从吃晚饭的时候起就一直在夸张地打着哈欠的凯说她头疼，准备上楼去睡觉。
　　“你有阿司匹林吗？”玛丽问道。
　　“我有，谢谢。”
　　凯离开了房间。
　　内维尔把收音机调到了一个音乐节目，在沙发上静静地坐了一会儿。他一眼都没看奥德丽，反倒是像个闷闷不乐的小男孩一样缩成一团坐在那儿。他那副样子让玛丽都无可奈何，替他感到难过。
　　“好啦，”最终他打起精神来说道，“要走的话我最好现在就动身。”
　　“你打算开你的车去还是坐渡轮？”
　　“哦，渡轮吧。没必要绕上十五英里的圈子。我挺喜欢稍微走一走的。”
　　“外面正在下雨呢，你得知道。”
　　“我知道啊。我带雨衣了。”他朝门口走去。
　　“晚安。”
　　在大厅里，赫尔斯多向他走来。
　　“先生，能否请您上楼去一下特雷西利安夫人那里？她特意说想见您。”
　　内维尔瞟了一眼钟。已经十点了。
　　他耸了耸肩膀，走上楼去，沿着走廊来到特雷西利安夫人的房间门前，抬手敲了敲门。在等门时，他听到了下面大厅里其他人的说话声。看来大家今晚都要早早上床睡觉。
　　“进来。”特雷西利安夫人用清晰的声音说道。
　　内维尔走了进去，在身后关上了门。
　　特雷西利安夫人已经准备好要就寝了。除了床边的一盏阅读灯之外，其他所有灯都已经熄了。她刚才在看书，不过此时放下了。她从眼镜上方看着内维尔。不知怎么的，那眼神有点儿令人生畏。
　　“我想跟你谈谈，内维尔。”她说。
　　内维尔不由自主地淡淡一笑。
　　“好吧，校长。”他说。
　　特雷西利安夫人没有笑。
　　“有些事情，内维尔，是我不允许发生在我家里的。我不想偷听任何人的私人谈话，但如果你和你妻子执意要在我卧室的窗户下面互相大喊大叫的话，我也很难听不到你们在说什么。据我听知，你正酝酿着一个计划，打算让凯和你离婚，然后适当的时候你再和奥德丽复婚。内维尔，这种事你绝对不能干，我也完全不会同意。”
　　内维尔看上去费了不少劲才控制住自己的脾气。
　　“我很抱歉让你听到了那一幕，”他不耐烦地说道，“至于你说的其他那些，想来应该都是我的私事！”
　　“不，那不是你的私事。你在用我的房子来和奥德丽接触——要么就是奥德丽用我的房子和你——”
　　“她压根儿就没干过这种事情。她——”
　　特雷西利安夫人抬起手，打断了他的话。
　　“不管怎么说，你不能这么干，内维尔。凯是你的妻子。她有一些权利是你不能剥夺的。在这个问题上我完全站在凯这一边。自己挖的坑就得自己填。你现在对凯有义务，我要明明白白地告诉你——”
　　内维尔上前一步。他的嗓门也提高了：
　　“这件事你根本管不着——”
　　“不仅如此，”特雷西利安夫人对他的异议置之不理，继续说道，“奥德丽明天就要离开这所房子——”
　　“你不能这样！我不能容忍你——”
　　“不要冲我喊，内维尔。”
　　“我告诉你我不允许你这样——”
　　在走廊里，不知什么地方的一扇门关上了……
白雪与红玫（12）
　　12
　　眼睛像醋栗一般的女佣艾丽丝•本瑟姆神色不安地找到了厨师斯派塞太太。
　　“噢，斯派塞太太，我真的不知道该怎么办了。”
　　“出什么事了，艾丽丝？”
　　“是芭雷特小姐。一个多小时以前我把她的茶端去给她。她睡得死死的，一点儿都没醒，但我也不想多做什么。然后五分钟以前，我又进去了一趟，因为她还没下来，而老夫人的茶全都准备好了，等着她端进去呢。所以我就又进去了，结果发现她还那么睡着呢——我叫都叫不醒她。”
　　“你没摇晃摇晃她吗？”
　　“我摇了，斯派塞太太。我晃她的脑袋——但她就那么躺着，脸色可怕极了。”
　　“上帝啊，她没死吧，嗯？”
　　“噢，没有，斯派塞太太，因为我能听见她喘气儿，但是声音挺奇怪的。我想她可能是生病了或者什么的。”
　　“好吧，我上去亲自看看。你把老夫人的茶端进去。最好沏一壶新的。她肯定纳闷儿出了什么事儿。”
　　斯派塞太太上楼去的时候，艾丽丝老老实实地按照她吩咐的去做了。
　　端着托盘走过走廊，艾丽丝敲响了特雷西利安夫人的房门。敲了两遍没人应答之后她推门进了屋。片刻之后，屋子里传来了茶具打碎的声音和一连串的尖叫，艾丽丝冲出了房间跑下楼去，恰好撞上了正穿过大厅向餐厅走去的赫尔斯多先生。
　　“噢，赫尔斯多先生……有贼来过了，老夫人死了……被杀了……她脑袋上有个大洞，到处都是血……”
　　[1]Red Rose and Snow White，格林童话故事。
　　[2]一种产自葡萄牙的非常甜的葡萄酒，常被作为西餐的餐后酒。
　　[3]摩门教是耶稣基督后期圣徒教会的代称，其教义中曾包括一夫多妻制。
　　[4]盖伊•福克斯（Guy Fawkes，1570—1606），英国人，天主教极端分子，曾参与一六〇五年的“火药阴谋”，试图在议会开会期间炸毁英国国会大厦，计划败露后于十一月五日被捕，次年被处决，此后每年的十一月五日被定为盖伊•福克斯之夜，或称篝火之夜，以纪念此次事件。
　　[5]蜥蜴一词在英语中有花花公子、纨绔子弟以及喜欢在社交圈追逐女人的男人之意。
　　[6]英国人一种图吉利的方式，当听到或者说了什么不吉利的话时要用手摸摸木制品。
A Fine Italian Hand（2）
　　II
　　Half an hour later Major Robert Mitchell, the Chief Constable, was speaking gravely to uncle and nephew.
　　"It's early to say as yet," he said, "but one thing seems clear. This wasn't an outside job. Nothing taken, no signs of breaking in. All the windows and doors found shut this morning."He looked directly at Battle.
　　"If I were to ask Scotland Yard, do you think they'd put you on the job? You're on the spot, you see. And then there's your relationship with Leach here. That is, if you're willing. It means cutting the end of your holiday.""That's all right," said Battle. "As for the other, sir, you'll have to put it up to Sir Edgar" (Sir Edgar Cotton was Assistant Commissioner), "but I believe he's a friend of yours?"Mitchell nodded.
　　"Yes, I think I can manage Edgar all right. That's settled, then! I'll get through right away."He spoke into the telephone: "Get me the Yard.""You think it's going to be an important case, sir?" asked Battle.
　　Mitchell said gravely: "It's going to be a case where we don't want the possibility of making a mistake. We want to be absolutely sure of our man - or woman, of course."Battle nodded. He understood quite well that there was something behind the words.
　　"Thinks he knows who did it," he said to himself. "And doesn't relish the prospect. Somebody well known and popular, or I'll eat my boots!"
A Fine Italian Hand（1）
　　A Fine Italian Hand ...
　　I
　　Superintendent battle had enjoyed his holiday. There were still three days of it to run and he was a little disappointed when the weather changed and the rain fell. Still, what else could you expect in England? And he'd been extremely lucky up to now.
　　He was breakfasting with Inspector James Leach, his nephew, when the telephone rang.
　　"I'll come right along, sir." Jim put the receiver back.
　　"Serious?" asked Superintendent Battle. He noted the expression on his nephew's face.
　　"We've got a murder. Lady Tressilian. An old lady, very well known down here, an invalid. Has that house at Saltcreek that hangs right over the cliff."Battle nodded.
　　"I'm going along to see the old man" (thus disrespectfully did Leach speak of his Chief Constable). "He's a friend of hers. We're going along together."As he went to the door he said pleadingly: "You'll give me a hand, won't you, uncle, over this? First case of this kind I've had.""As long as I'm here, I will. Case of robbery and house-breaking, is it?""I don't know yet."
A Fine Italian Hand（4）
　　IV
　　They were in the Chief Constable's office - three men with grave, worried faces.
　　Major Mitchell said with a sigh: "Well, I suppose there's nothing to be done but arrest him?"Leach said quietly: "Looks like it, sir."Mitchell looked across at Superintendent Battle.
　　"Cheer up. Battle," he said kindly. "Your best friend isn't dead."Superintendent Battle sighed.
　　"I don't like it," he said.
　　"I don't think any of us like it," said Mitchell. "But we've ample evidence, I think, to apply for a warrant.""More than ample," said Battle.
　　"In fact, if we don't apply for one, anybody might ask why the dickens not?"Battle nodded an unhappy head.
　　"Let's go over it," said the Chief Constable. "You've got motive - Strange and his wife come into a considerable sum of money at the old lady's death. He's the last person known to have seen her alive - he was heard quarrelling with her. The suit he wore that night had bloodstains on it; of course, most damning of all, his fingerprints were found on the actual weapon - and no one else's.""And yet, sir," said Battle, "you don't like it, either.""I'm damned if I do."
　　"What is it exactly you don't like about it, sir?"Major Mitchell rubbed his nose. "Makes the fellow out a bit too much of a fool, perhaps?" he suggested.
　　"And yet, sir, they do behave like fools sometimes." "Oh, I know -I know. Where would we be if they didn't?" Battle said to Leach: "What don't you like about it, Jim?" Leach stirred unhappily.
　　"I've always liked Mr. Strange. Seen him on and off down here for years. He's a nice gentleman - and he's a sportsman.""I don't see," said Battle slowly, "why a good tennis player shouldn't be a murderer as well. There's nothing against it." He paused. "What I don't like is the niblick.""The niblick?" asked Mitchell, slightly puzzled.
　　"Yes, sir, or, alternatively, the bell. The bell or the niblick - not both."He went on in his slow, careful voice.
　　"What do we think actually happened? Did Mr. Strange go to her room, have a quarrel, lose his temper, and hit her over the head with a niblick. If so, and it was unpremeditated, how did he happen to have a niblick with him? It's not the sort of thing you carry about with you in the evenings.""He might nave been practising swings - something like that.""He might - but nobody says so. Nobody saw him doing it. The last time anybody saw him with a niblick in his hand was about a week previously when he was practising sand shots down on the sands. As I look at it, you see, you can't have it both ways. Either there was a quarrel and he lost his temper - and, mind you, I've seen him on the courts, and in one of these tournament matches these tennis stars are all het up and a mass of nerves, and if their tempers fray easily it's going to show. I've never seen Mr. Strange ruffled. I should say he's got an excellent control over his temper - better than most - and yet we're suggesting that he goes berserk and hits a frail old lady over the head.""There's another alternative, Battle," said the Chief Constable.
　　"I know, sir. The theory that it was premeditated. He wanted the old lady's money. That fits in with the bell - which entailed the doping of the maid - but it doesn't fit in with the niblick and the quarrel! If he'd made up his mind to do her in, he'd be very careful not to quarrel with her. He could dope the maid, creep into her room in the night - crack her over the head and stage a nice little robbery, wiping the niblick and putting it carefully back where it belonged! It's all wrong, sir - it's a mixture of cold premeditation and unpremeditated violence -and the two don't mix!""There's something in what you say. Battle - but - what's the alternative?" "It's the niblick that takes my fancy, sir.""Nobody could have hit her over the head with that niblick without disturbing Nevile's prints - that's quite certain.""In that case," said Battle, "she was hit over the head with something else." Major Mitchell drew a deep breath. "That's rather a wild assumption, isn't it?""I think it's common sense, sir. Either Strange hit her with that niblick or nobody did. I plump for nobody. In that case that niblick was put there deliberately and blood and hair smeared on it. Dr. Lazenby doesn't like the niblick much - had to accept it because it was the obvious thing and because he couldn't say definitely that it hadn't been used."Major Mitchell leaned back in his chair.
　　"Go on. Battle," he said. "I'm giving you a free hand. What's the next step?""Take away the niblick," said Battle, "and what is left? First, motive. Had Nevile Strange really got a motive for doing away with Lady Tressilian? He inherited money - a lot depends, to my mind, on whether he needed that money. He says not. I'd suggest we verify that. Find out the state of his finances. If he's in a hole financially, and needs money, then the case against him is very much strengthened. If, on the other hand, he was speaking the truth and his finances are in a good state, why, then -""Well, what then?"
　　"Why, then, we might have a look at the motives of the other people in the house.""You think, then, that Nevile Strange was framed?" Superintendent Battle screwed up his eyes.
　　"There's a phrase I read somewhere that tickled my fancy. Something about a fine Italian hand. That's what I seem to see in this business. Ostensibly it's a blunt, brutal, straightforward crime, but it seems to me I catch glimpses of something else - of a fine Italian hand at work behind the scenes ..."There was a long pause while the Chief Constable looked at Battle. "You may be right," he said at last. "Dash it all, there's something funny about the business. What's your idea, now, of our plan of campaign?"Battle stroked his square jaw.
　　"Well, sir," he said. "I'm always in favour of going about things the obvious way. Everything's been set to make us suspicious of Mr. Nevile Strange. Let's go on being suspicious of him. Needn't go so far as actually to arrest him, but hint at it, question him, put the wind up him - and observe everybody's reactions generally. Verify his statements, go over his movements that night with a toothcomb. In fact, show our hand as plainly as may be.""Quite Machiavellian," said Major Mitchell with a twinkle. "Imitation of a heavy-handed policeman by star actor Battle."The Superintendent smiled.
　　"I always like doing what's expected of me, sir. This time I mean to be a bit slow about it - take my time. I want to do some nosing about. Being suspicious of Mr. Nevile Strange is a very good excuse for nosing about. I've an idea, you know, that something rather odd has been going on in that house.""Looking for the sex angle?"
　　"If you like to put it that way, sir."
　　"Handle it your own way, Battle. You and Leach carry on between you.""Thank you, sir." Battle stood up. "Nothing suggestive from the solicitors?""No. I rang them up. I know Trelawny fairly well. He's sending me a copy of Sir Matthew's will, and also of Lady Tressilian's. She had about five hundred a year of her own - invested in gilt-edged securities. She left a legacy to Barrett and a small one to Hurstall, the rest to Mary Aldin.""That's three we might keep an eye on," said Battle. Mitchell looked amused. "Suspicious fellow, aren't you?""No use letting oneself be hypnotised by fifty thousand pounds," said Battle stolidly. "Many a murder has been done for less than fifty pounds. It depends on how much you want the money. Barrett got a legacy - and maybe she took the precaution to dope herself so as to avert suspicion.""She very nearly passed out. Lazenby hasn't let us question her yet.""Overdid it out of ignorance, perhaps. Then Hurstall may have been in bad need of cash for all we know. And Miss Aldin, if she's no money of her own, might have fancied a bit of life on a nice little income before she's too old to enjoy it."The Chief Constable looked doubtful.
　　"Well," he said, "it's up to you two. Get on with the job."
精明的幕后黑手（1）
　　精明的幕后黑手
　　1
　　巴特尔警司很愉快地度过了他的假期。此时距离假期结束还有三天时间，天气起了变化，开始下起雨来，这让他感到稍微有些失望。然而，在英格兰你还能期盼什么别的呢？
　　至少到目前为止，他已经非常幸运了。
　　电话铃响的时候，他正和他的外甥詹姆士•利奇督察一起吃早饭。
　　“我马上就到，长官。”吉姆挂上了听筒。
　　“很严重吗？”巴特尔警司问道。他注意到了外甥脸上的表情。
　　“我们摊上了一桩谋杀案。是特雷西利安夫人，一个老太太，在这一带家喻户晓，是个老病号。盐溪那边建在悬崖上的那所房子就是她的。”
　　巴特尔点点头。
　　“我要去见那个老头儿了，（利奇在说起他的警察局局长的时候就是这么不敬）。他是她的朋友。我们要一起过去。”
　　当他走到门口时又恳求地说道：
　　“这件事你会助我一臂之力的，对吗，舅舅？这还是我头一次碰上这类案子。”
　　“只要我在这儿，就会帮你的。入室抢劫案，对吗？”
　　“我还不知道呢。”
精明的幕后黑手（2）
　　2
　　半个小时以后，警察局局长罗伯特•米切尔少校正面色凝重地对舅舅和外甥两个人说着话。
　　“现在说什么都为时尚早，”他说，“不过有一件事情似乎很清楚。这案子不是外人干的。什么东西都没丢，也没有破门而入的迹象。今天早上的时候所有门窗都是关好的。”
　　他直直地看着巴特尔。
　　“如果我要向苏格兰场提出请求的话，你觉得他们会派你来接这个案子吗？你看，你正好在案发现场。况且你和利奇还有这层关系。更确切地说，如果你愿意的话。当然这也就意味着你的假期要提前结束了。”
　　“那倒没问题，”巴特尔说，“至于您说的另一件事嘛，长官，您得跟埃德加爵士打个招呼，让他来决定（埃德加•科顿爵士是助理警务处长）。不过我相信他是您的朋友吧？”
　　米切尔点点头。
　　“是啊，我想埃德加那边我能搞定。那这件事就这么定了！我马上去打电话。”
　　他抓起电话说道：“给我接苏格兰场。”
　　“您觉得这会是一件要案吗，长官？”巴特尔问道。
　　米切尔一脸严肃地说道：
　　“这会是一件我们不想出任何差错的案子。我们要绝对确保抓到那个男人——当然了，也有可能是女人。”
　　巴特尔点点头。他非常清楚这句话的弦外之音。
　　“我猜他知道是谁干的，”他心中暗想，“却又丝毫没显出什么欣喜之色。我敢打赌绝对是个有头有脸的人！”
A Fine Italian Hand（6）
　　VI
　　Sergeant Jones adroitly got rid of Nevile through the hall and then brought Kay in by the trench window, so that husband and wife did not meet.
　　"All the better," said Battle. "It's only this one I want to deal with whilst she's still in the dark."The day was overcast, with a sharp wind. Kay was dressed in a tweed skirt and a purple sweater, above which her hair looked like a burnished copper bowl. She looked half frightened, half excited. Her beauty and vitality bloomed against the dark Victorian background of books and saddleback chairs. Leach led her easily enough over her account of the previous evening.
　　She had had a headache and gone to bed early - about quarter-past nine, she thought. She had slept heavily and heard nothing until the next morning, when she was wakened by hearing someone screaming.
　　Battle took up the questioning.
　　"Your husband didn't come in to see how you were before he went off for the evening?""No."
　　"You didn't see him from the time you left the drawing-room until the following morning. Is that right?"Kay nodded.
　　Battle stroked his jaw.
　　"Mrs. Strange, the door between your room and that of your husband was locked. Who locked it?"Kay said, shortly: "I did."
　　Battle said nothing - but he waited - waited like an elderly, fatherly cat - for a mouse to come out of the hole he was watching.
　　His silence did what questions might not have accomplished. Kay burst out impetuously: "Oh, I suppose you've got to have it all! That old doddering Hurstall must have heard us before tea and he'll tell you if I don't. He's probably told you already. Nevile and I had had a row - a flaming row! I was furious with him! I went up to bed and locked the door, because I was still in a flaming rage with him!""I see -I see," said Battle, at his most sympathetic. "And what was the trouble all about?""Does it matter? Oh, I don't mind telling you. Nevile has been behaving like a perfect idiot. It's all that woman's fault, though.""What woman?"
　　"His first wife. She got him to come here in the first place.""You mean - to meet you?"
　　"Yes. Nevile thinks it was all his own idea - poor innocent! But it wasn't. He never thought of such a thing until he met her in the Park one day and she got the idea into his head and made him believe he'd thought of it himself. He quite honestly thinks it was his idea, but I've seen Audrey's fine Italian hand behind it from the first.""Why should she do such a thing?" asked Battle.
　　"Because she wanted to get hold of him again," said Kay. She spoke quickly and her breath came fast. "She's never forgiven him for going off with me. This is her revenge. She got him to fix up that we'd all be here together and then she got to work on him. She's been doing it ever since we arrived. She's clever, you know. Knows just how to look pathetic and elusive - yes, and how to play up another man, too. She got Thomas Royde, a faithful old dog who's always adored her, to be here at the same time, and she drove Nevile mad by pretending she was going to marry him."She stopped, breathing angrily.
　　Battle said mildly: "I should have thought he'd be glad for her to - er - find happiness with an old friend.""Glad? He's as jealous as Hell!"
　　"Then he must be very fond of her."
　　"Oh, he is," said Kay bitterly. "She's seen to that!"Battle's finger still ran dubiously over his jaw.
　　"You might have objected to this arrangement on coming here?" he suggested.
　　"How could I? It would have looked as though I were jealous!""Well," said Battle, "after all, you were, weren't you?"Kay flushed.
　　"Always! I've always been jealous of Audrey. Right from the beginning - or nearly the beginning. I used to feel her there in the house. It was as though it were her house, not mine. I changed the colour scheme and did it all up, but it was no good! I'd feel her there like a grey ghost creeping about. I knew Nevile worried because he thought he'd treated her badly. He couldn't quite forget about her -she was always there - a reproachful feeling at the back of his mind. There are people, you know, who are like that. They seem rather colourless and not very interesting - but they make themselves felt."Battle nodded thoughtfully. He said: "Well, thank you, Mrs. Strange. That's all at present. We have to ask - er - a good many questions - especially with your husband inheriting so much money from Lady Tressilian - fifty thousand pounds -"Is it as much as that? We get it from old Sir Matthew's will, don't we?" "You know all about it?""Oh, yes. He left it to be divided between Nevile and Nevile's wife after Lady Tressilian's death. Not that I'm glad the old thing is dead. I'm not. I didn't like her very much - probably because she didn't like me - but it's too horrible to think of some burglar coming along and cracking her head open."She went out on that. Battle looked at Leach.
　　"What do you think of her? Good-looking bit of goods, I will say. A man could lose his head over her easy enough."Leach agreed. "Doesn't seem to me quite a lady, though," he said, dubiously.
　　"They aren't nowadays," said Battle. "Shall we see No. 1? No, I think we'll have Miss Aldin next, and get an outside angle on this matrimonial business."Mary Aldin came in composedly and sat down. Beneath her outward calmness her eyes looked worried.
　　She answered Leach's questions clearly enough, confirming Nevile's account of the evening. She had come up to bed about ten o'clock.
　　"Mr. Strange was then with Lady Tressilian?" "Yes, I could hear them talking." "Talking, Miss Aldin, or quarrelling?"She flushed, but answered quietly: "Lady Tressilian, you know, was fond of discussion. She often sounded acrimonious when she was really nothing of the kind. Also, she was inclined to be autocratic and to domineer over people - and a man doesn't take that kind of thing as easily as a woman does.""As you do, perhaps," thought Battle.
　　He looked at her intelligent face. It was she who broke the silence.
　　"I don't want to be stupid - but it really seems to me incredible, quite incredible, that you should suspect one of the people in this house. Why shouldn't it be an outsider?""For several reasons, Miss Aldin. For one thing, nothing was taken and no entry was forced. I needn't remind you of the geography of your own house and grounds, but just bear this in mind. On the west is a sheer cliff down to the sea; to the south are a couple of terraces with a wall and a drop to the sea, on the east the garden slopes down almost to the shore, but it is surrounded by a high wall. The only ways out are a small door leading through on to the road, which was found bolted inside as usual this morning, and the main door to the house, which is set on the road. I'm not saying no one could climb that wall, nor that they could not have got in by using a spare key to the front door or even a skeleton key - but I'm saying that as far as I can see no one did anything of the sort. Whoever committed this crime knew that Barrett took senna pod decoction every night, and doped it - that means someone in the house. The niblick was taken from the cupboard under the stairs. It wasn't an outsider, Miss Aldin.""It wasn't Nevile! I'm sure it wasn't Nevile!""Why are you so sure?"
　　She raised her hands hopelessly.
　　"It just isn't like him - that's why! He wouldn't kill a defenceless old woman in bed - Nevile!""It doesn't seem very likely," said Battle reasonably, "but you'd be surprised at the things people do when they've got a good enough reason. Mr. Strange may have wanted money very badly.""I'm sure he didn't. He's not an extravagant person - he never has been." "No, but his wife is.""Kay? Yes, perhaps - but, oh, it's too ridiculous. I'm sure the last thing Nevile has been thinking of lately is money."Superintendent Battle coughed.
　　"Kay told you, I suppose? Yes, it really has been rather difficult. Still, it's nothing to do with this dreadful business.""Probably not, but all the same, I'd like to hear your version of the affair, Miss Aldin."Mary said slowly: "Well, as I say, it has created a difficult - situation. Whosoever's idea it was to begin with -"He interrupted her deftly.
　　"I understood it was Mr. Nevile Strange's idea?""He said it was."
　　"But you yourself didn't think so?"
　　"I - no - it isn't like Nevile somehow. I've had a feeling all along that somebody else put the idea into his head.""Mrs. Audrey Strange, perhaps?"
　　"It seems incredible that Audrey should do such a thing.""Then who else could it have been?"
　　Mary raised her shoulders helplessly.
　　"I don't know. It's just - queer."
　　"Queer," said Battle thoughtfully. "That's what I feel about this case. It's queer.""Everything's been queer. There's been a feeling -I can't describe it. Something in the air. A menace.""Everybody strung up and on edge?"
　　"Yes, just that ... We've all suffered from it. Even Mr. Latimer -" She stopped.
　　"I was just coming to Mr. Latimer. What can you tell me, Miss Aldin, about Mr. Latimer? Who is Mr. Latimer?""Well, really, I don't know much about him. He's a friend of Kay's.""He's Mrs. Strange's friend. Known each other a long time?""Yes, she knew him before her marriage."
　　"Mr. Strange like him?"
　　"Quite well, I believe."
　　"No - trouble, there?"
　　Battle put it delicately. Mary replied at once and emphatically: "Certainly not!""Did Lady Tressilian like Mr. Latimer?"
　　"Not very much."
　　Battle took warning from the aloof tone of her voice and changed the subject.
　　"This maid, now, Jane Barren, she has been with Lady Tressilian a long time? You consider her trustworthy?""Oh, absolutely. She was devoted to Lady Tressilian." Battle leaned back in his chair.
　　"In fact you wouldn't consider for a moment the possibility that Barrett hit Lady Tressilian over the head and then doped herself to avoid being suspected?""Of course not. Why on earth should she?""She gets a legacy, you know."
　　"So do I," said Mary Aldin. She looked at him steadily.
　　"Yes," said Battle. "So do you. Do you know how much?""Mr. Trelawny has just arrived. He told me.""You didn't know about it beforehand?"
　　"No. I certainly assumed, from what Lady Tressilian occasionally let fall, that she had left me something. I have very little of my own, you know. Not enough to live on without getting work of some kind. I thought that Lady Tressilian would leave me at least a hundred a year - but she has some cousins, and I did not at all know how she proposed to leave that money which was hers to dispose of. I knew, of course, that Sir Matthew's estate went to Nevile and Audrey.""So she didn't know what Lady Tressilian was leaving her," Leach said when Mary Aldin had been dismissed.
　　"At least, that's what she says."
　　"That's what she says," agreed Battle. "And now for Bluebeard's first wife."
精明的幕后黑手（3）
　　3
　　巴特尔和利奇站在装潢精美、布置考究的卧室门口。一名警官正在他们面前的地板上小心翼翼地检查一根高尔夫球杆握把上的指纹——那是一根沉重的九号铁杆。那根球杆的杆头上留有血迹，还沾着一两根白发。
　　当地的外科警医拉曾比医生正站在床边，俯身检视着特雷西利安夫人的尸体。
　　他叹了口气，直起腰来。
　　“一目了然。她被人从正面击打，力气很大。第一下就打碎了头骨要了她的命，但凶手为了确保万无一失又给了她一下。我不会跟你们说那些天花乱坠的词儿——用普通老百姓的话来说就是这样。”
　　“她死了多久了？”利奇问道。
　　“要我说的话应该在晚上十点到午夜之间。”
　　“你没法再精确一点儿了吗？”
　　“我宁可不那么精确。你得考虑各种各样的因素。现如今我们不再仅仅依靠尸僵来推断了。不会早于十点，也不会晚于午夜。”
　　“她是被这根九号铁杆打死的？”
　　医生扫了一眼球杆。
　　“很可能是。不过所幸的是，凶手把它留下了。光看伤口我可没法推断出凶器是一根九号铁杆。说来也巧，球杆锐利的那一边没有碰着头部——所以击中她的肯定是带着弧度的球杆背面。”
　　“这样打的话不是会有点儿难度吗？”利奇问道。
　　“如果是蓄意这么干的话，的确有点儿难，”医生赞同道，“我只能认为，这样打中她是个相当离奇的巧合。”
　　利奇抬起手来，本能地试图重现那致命的一击。
　　“真别扭。”他评论道。
　　“是啊，”医生若有所思地说道，“整件事情都很别扭。你看，她被打中的地方在右边太阳穴——但不管是谁下的毒手，都必须站在床的右手边——面对着床头——左边没有什么空间，跟墙之间的角度太小了。”
　　利奇竖起了他的耳朵。
　　“是个左撇子？”他问道。
　　“你不能让我在这一点上表态，”拉曾比说，“这里还有太多的问题。你愿意听的话，我会说最简单的解释就是凶手是个左撇子——不过也还有其他的方法可以解释。比如说，假定老太太在这个人打她的时候刚好稍稍向左转了转头。或者他也可能事先把床往外挪了，他站在床的左边，事后又把床挪了回去。”
　　“最后这种解释——不太可能。”
　　“或许不可能，但也可能就是这样。在这种事情上我有些经验，而且我可以告诉你，小伙子，推断说致命的一击是由左撇子干的这种事情可是充满了陷阱啊。”
　　侦缉警长琼斯蹲在地上说道：“这根高尔夫球杆是那种普通的供右手使用的类型。”
　　利奇点点头。“但这也可能不是凶手的东西。我想凶手是个男人吧，医生？”
　　“不一定。如果凶器就是这根沉重的九号铁杆的话，一个女人也可以用它打出致命的那一下。”
　　巴特尔警司平静地说道：
　　“不过你也不敢保证那一定就是凶器，对吗，医生？”
　　拉曾比很感兴趣地迅速瞥了他一眼。
　　“不敢。我只敢说这玩意儿可能是凶器——八九不离十，我会分析一下上面的血迹以确保血型吻合——还有那几根头发。”
　　“没错，”巴特尔赞许地说道，“严谨一些总是好的。”
　　拉曾比好奇地问道：
　　“你对那根高尔夫球杆有什么疑问吗，警司？”
　　巴特尔摇摇头。
　　“哦，没有，没有。我是个头脑简单的人，喜欢相信亲眼看到的东西。她是被某件重物打死的——而那根球杆就很重。球杆上有血迹和头发，想来很可能就是她的血和头发。因此——那就是行凶用的家伙。”
　　利奇问道：“她被打中的时候是清醒的还是睡着的呢？”
　　“在我看来，是清醒的。她脸上有那种惊愕的神情。要我说的话——只代表我个人的观点啊——她并没有料到接下来会发生什么。没有任何试图反抗的迹象——也没有恐惧和害怕。我就随口一说，她要么就是刚刚从睡梦之中醒过来，还有点儿迷迷糊糊的，没弄明白是怎么回事儿呢——要么就是她认识这个袭击她的人，并且觉得这个人不可能想要伤害她。”
　　“床头灯是亮着的，别的没什么了。”利奇沉思道。
　　“是啊，那也有两种可能。要么是因为有人进到她的卧室里，她被突然吵醒以后开了灯。要么那盏灯就是一直开着的。”
　　侦缉警长琼斯站起身来，脸上带着有所收获的欣喜微笑。
　　“球杆上有一组迷人的指纹，”他说，“清晰无比！”
　　利奇发出一声深深的叹息。
　　“这应该能让案情简化了。”
　　“真是个古道热肠的家伙，”拉曾比医生说道，“留下了凶器——凶器上留下了指纹——我就纳闷儿他怎么没把名片也留下啊！”
　　“也有可能，”巴特尔警司说，“他只是慌里慌张，忙中出错。有些人是会这样的。”
　　医生点点头。
　　“这倒是真的。好了，我得走了，还得去照顾我的另一个病人。”
　　“什么病人？”巴特尔听上去突然来了兴趣。
　　“管家找我来原本是在发现这个情况之前。今天早上有人发现特雷西利安夫人的女仆昏睡不醒。”
　　“她怎么了？”
　　“某种巴比妥酸盐服用过量。她的情况相当糟糕，不过最终会转危为安的。”
　　“女仆？”巴特尔说。他那一双牛眼死死盯着那个巨大的铃绳，它末端的流苏就垂在死者手边的枕头上。
　　拉曾比点了点头。
　　“就是那个。要是有什么事让特雷西利安夫人觉得不对劲的话，那是她首先会做的事情——拉铃叫她的女仆来。嗯，她可能一直到最后都在没完没了地拉那个铃。不过她的女仆是听不到的。”
　　“这是蓄意而为，是不是？”巴特尔说，“你能确定吗？她没有睡前吃安眠药的习惯吧？”
　　“我能肯定她没有。她房间里一点儿这种东西的影子都没有。而且我已经发现那些药是怎么让她吃下去的了。是番泻实 [1] 。她每晚都要喝一点儿番泻实。药就下在那里面。”
　　巴特尔警司挠了挠自己的下巴。
　　“嗯，”他说，“有人对这所房子了如指掌。你要知道，医生，这是一桩非常与众不同的谋杀案。”
　　“好吧，”拉曾比说道，“那就是你们的事儿了。”
　　“我们的医生，是个好人。”拉曾比离开房间以后利奇说道。
　　此时只剩下了他们两个人。照片已经拍过了，各种勘查的结果也已经记录在案。这两位警官已经获悉了这间作为犯罪现场的房间里所有应该知道的事实。
　　巴特尔点点头，权作对他外甥那句评论的回应。他看起来在苦苦思索着什么。
　　“你觉得可能有人在那些指纹印上去之后还握过这根球杆吗——比方说，戴着手套？”
　　利奇摇了摇头。
　　“我觉得不会，你也不会这么想的。你不可能紧握着那根球杆——我的意思是说，不可能在用它的同时还不破坏上面那些指纹。它们确实没被破坏，要多清楚有多清楚。你也看见了。”
　　巴特尔表示同意。
　　“那么现在我们就该恭恭敬敬客客气气地去问问大家能否让我们采集一下他们的指纹了——当然了，绝无强迫。然后每个人都会说可以——接下来可能得到的结果无外乎两种。
　　要么就是这些指纹没有一个对得上，要么就是——”
　　“要么我们就会找到要抓的男人。”
　　“我想是吧。或者也可能是我们要抓的女人。”
　　利奇摇了摇头。
　　“不，不是女人。球杆上的那些指纹是男人的。对于女人的指纹来说它们太大了。而且，这也不像是那种女人犯下的罪案。”
　　“是的。”巴特尔表示赞同，“很像是男人干的。残忍，男性化，身手挺敏捷但稍微有点儿笨拙。你知道这所房子里有这号人吗？”
　　“这所房子里的人我还一个都不认识呢。他们这会儿全都在餐厅里。”
　　巴特尔向门口走去。
　　“我们去看看他们吧，”他扭过脸又看了看那张床，摇了摇头说道，“我不喜欢那个铃绳。”
　　“它怎么了？”
　　“看着不对劲。”
　　他一边打开门一边又说道：
　　“我想知道，谁会想要她的命呢？这附近那种欠让人敲脑袋的牢骚满腹的老太婆有的是。她看起来可不是那种人。我觉得她还算是招人喜欢的。”他停顿了一下，接着问道，“她很富有吧？谁能拿到她的钱？”
　　利奇听出了这句话的言外之意。
　　“你说到点子上了！那就是答案所在，也是我们首先要搞清楚的事情之一。”
　　他们一起走下楼梯的时候，巴特尔浏览了一下手里的名单。他大声念道：
　　“奥尔丁小姐，罗伊德先生，斯特兰奇先生，斯特兰奇太太，奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太。
　　嗯哼，似乎有一堆斯特兰奇家的人。”
　　“我听说，那是他的两个太太。”
　　巴特尔的眉毛抬了起来，嘴里咕哝道：
　　“他是蓝胡子 [2] 吗？”
　　全家人都围坐在餐厅的桌旁，做出一副正在吃东西的样子。
　　巴特尔警司锐利的目光扫过转向他的一张张面孔。他以自己独特的方法对他们做出了快速的判断。他们如果知道了他对他们的看法可能会大吃一惊的。那是一种断然的偏见。
　　不管法律如何假意宣称任何人在被证实有罪之前都应该视为无辜，巴特尔警司还是一贯把跟谋杀案有牵连的所有人都当成潜在的凶手。
　　他的目光从在桌首坐得笔直并且面色苍白的玛丽•奥尔丁看起，到坐在她旁边，正往烟斗里填烟叶的托马斯•罗伊德，再到把座椅向后推，右手端着咖啡杯和杯碟，左手拿着根烟的奥德丽，然后是看起来失魂落魄、不知所措，正试图用一只颤抖的手点烟的内维尔，最后到用胳膊肘支着桌子，透过妆容都能看出花容失色的凯。
　　巴特尔警司心里是这么想的：
　　我猜那个是奥尔丁小姐。她大概是个冷静的家伙——能干的女人，想要打她个措手不及可不太容易。她旁边的那个男人有点儿让人捉摸不透——一只胳膊有毛病，一张不动声色的脸——很可能有自卑情结。我想那是两位太太之一——她已经被吓得魂不附体了——没错，她的确害怕得要命。手里的咖啡杯有点儿蹊跷。那个是斯特兰奇，我以前在哪儿见过他。他也是战战兢兢的——精神已经崩溃了。红头发的姑娘是个悍妇——脾气暴得就像魔鬼。不过头脑也一样。
　　就在他如此审视他们的时候，利奇督察正在发表着一番生硬而短小的演讲。玛丽•奥尔丁则通报了在场的每个人的姓名。
　　她最后说道：
　　“当然了，尽管这件事让我们都极为震惊，但我们仍然迫切希望不遗余力地帮助你们。”
　　“那么首先，”利奇说着举起了球杆，“有谁认识这根高尔夫球杆吗？”
　　凯轻呼了一声，说道：“好恐怖啊。那不是——”随后就停住了。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇站起身，绕过桌子走了过来。
　　“看起来像是我的。能让我看一眼吗？”
　　“现在一点儿问题都没有，”利奇督察说，“你可以拿着看。”
　　他话里别有意味的“现在”两个字似乎并没有在旁观者中造成什么反应。内维尔仔细地查看着球杆。
　　“我觉得这是我包里那几根铁头球杆中的一根，”他说道，“如果你们愿意跟我来的话，花一两分钟我就能给你们确认。”他们跟着他来到楼梯下的一个大储物间。他一把拉开储物间的门，巴特尔立刻觉得眼花缭乱了，里面看起来塞满了网球拍。与此同时，他记起了曾经在哪儿见过内维尔•斯特兰奇。他随即说道：
　　“先生，我见过你在温布尔登打比赛。”
　　内维尔半转过头。“哦，是吗，你看过？”
　　他正把一些网球拍扔到一边，可以看到储物间里靠着渔具的地方有两个高尔夫球袋。
　　“只有我太太和我打高尔夫球，”内维尔解释道，“那是把男士球杆。是的，没错——就是我的。”
　　他拿出了自己的球袋，里面至少装了十四支球杆。
　　利奇督察心里思忖道：
　　“这帮搞体育运动的家伙肯定自视颇高。我可不愿意当他的球童。”
　　内维尔说道：
　　“这是从圣艾斯伯特买的沃尔特•赫德森铁头球杆之一。”
　　“谢谢你，斯特兰奇先生。这样一来就解决了一个问题。”
　　内维尔说道：“最让我纳闷儿的事情是什么东西都没丢。而且整栋房子似乎也没有被闯入的迹象吧？”他的声音充满困惑——但同时也带着惊恐。
　　巴特尔心中暗想：
　　“他们心里都已经琢磨过这些了，他们所有的人……”
　　“那些仆人们，”内维尔说，“都是绝无害人之心的。”
　　“我会和奥尔丁小姐谈谈仆人们的事情，”利奇督察语气和婉地说道，“同时我不知道你能否就特雷西利安夫人的律师是谁给我一些指点呢？”
　　“阿斯奎思和特里劳尼律师事务所，”内维尔毫不迟疑地答道，“在圣卢。”
　　“谢谢你，斯特兰奇先生。我们必须得从他们那里查出特雷西利安夫人财产的全部情况。”
　　“你的意思是，”内维尔问道，“谁会继承她的钱吗？”
　　“说得没错，先生。比如她的遗嘱什么的。”
　　“我不了解她的遗嘱，”内维尔说，“不过就我所知，她自己身后并没留下多少钱。我可以告诉你她大部分财产的去向。”
　　“哦？斯特兰奇先生？”
　　“按照马修•特雷西利安爵士的最终遗嘱，这些钱归我和我太太。特雷西利安夫人只能享有这笔钱的终身利息而已。”
　　“真的吗，遗嘱真是这么写的？”利奇督察饶有兴趣地看着内维尔，如获至宝。那眼神令内维尔禁不住紧张地畏缩起来。利奇督察继续说道，语气出奇的和蔼。
　　“你也不知道总共有多少吧，斯特兰奇先生？”
　　“我没法马上告诉你。不过我相信差不多得有十万英镑左右吧。”
　　“真——的啊。给你们每个人十万？”
　　“不，我们俩平分。”
　　“明白了。一笔非常可观的钱呐。”
　　内维尔微微一笑。他平静地说道：“要知道，我自己的钱已经足够养活我自己了，用不着那么眼巴巴地盼着拿死人的钱。”
　　利奇督察看上去也对于把这样的想法安在他身上感到有点儿惊愕。
　　他们回到餐厅，利奇又发表了他第二番小小的讲话。这一次是关于指纹的事情。这是例行公事，需要对留在死者卧室里的家人指纹进行一一排除。
　　所有人都表示自愿——甚至近乎热切地——让警方采集他们的指纹。他们被带进了书房，侦缉警长琼斯正拿着他的小辊筒在那里等候。
　　巴特尔和利奇则开始找仆人们谈话。
　　从他们口中没问出什么特别的情况。赫尔斯多解释了他给整栋房子锁门的具体程序，并且发誓说早起的时候他发现门锁是原封未动的，没有任何外来者闯入的迹象。他进一步解释说前门只是用弹簧锁锁上，换句话说，并没有上门闩，故而用钥匙就可以从外面打开。之所以这样是因为内维尔先生昨晚去了复活节海湾，有可能会晚回来。
　　“你知道他是什么时候回来的吗？”
　　“知道，长官，我想大概是在两点半左右。我觉得有人跟他一起回来的。我听到了说话的声音，后来一辆车开走了，接着我听到了关门声，然后内维尔先生就上楼了。”
　　“昨晚他离开这里去复活节海湾是在几点？”
　　“大约十点二十吧。我听到大门关上了。”
　　利奇点点头。看来暂时从赫尔斯多这里也得不到更多消息了。他又讯问了其他仆人。
　　他们个个都表现得既紧张又害怕，但在目前这种状况下这也是再正常不过的了。
　　最末一个接受讯问后离开的是稍微有点儿歇斯底里的厨房女佣，当房门在她身后关上时利奇以探询的目光看着他舅舅。
　　巴特尔说：“把那个女仆叫回来——不是那个凸眼睛的——我说的是又高又瘦挺有精气神儿的那个。她知道些什么。”
　　艾玛•威尔斯明显心神不宁。这次轮到那个年长一些、身材魁梧的大块头男人亲自来问自己，让她觉得如坐针毡。
　　“我只是想给你一些忠告，威尔斯小姐，”他和颜悦色地说道，“你也知道，对警方隐瞒任何事情都是不好的。这会让他们用对你不利的眼光来看待你，如果你懂我的意思的话——”
　　艾玛•威尔斯气愤却又有些不安地抗议道：
　　“我保证我从来没有——”
　　“好了，好了，”巴特尔举起一只又大又厚实的手掌，“你看到了什么事，不然就是听到了什么话。究竟是什么？”
　　“我并不是有意在听，我是说我没法听不到，赫尔斯多先生他也听到了。而且我并不认为，丝毫都不认为这些话和谋杀案有任何关系。”
　　“或许没有，或许没有。你只要告诉我们你听到了什么。”
　　“好吧，那会儿我正准备去睡觉。应该是刚过十点——我先把奥尔丁小姐的热水袋放到她床上。不管是夏天还是冬天她都要用，这样一来我当然恰好就要经过老夫人的房门口。”
　　“说下去。”巴特尔说。
　　“我听到她和内维尔先生正在激烈地争吵，声音越来越高。他根本就是在喊。噢，这才是名副其实的吵架呢！”
　　“记得他们究竟都说了些什么吗？”
　　“呃，我不是像你说的那样真的在听。”
　　“你是没有。但你肯定还是会听到只言片语的。”
　　“老夫人好像说她不会允许什么事儿在她家里发生，而内维尔先生说，‘不许你说她任何坏话。’他是真生气了。”
　　巴特尔板着面无表情的脸，让她试着再回想一下，但最终也没能从她嘴里问出更多的信息。最后他把这个女人打发走了。
　　他和吉姆面面相觑。过了片刻，利奇说道：
　　“琼斯这会儿应该能告诉我们一些关于指纹的事情了。”
　　巴特尔问道：“谁在检查房间？”
　　“威廉斯。他是个不错的小伙子。他不会漏掉任何蛛丝马迹的。”“你让这家里的人都不许进房间了吧？”
　　“是的，直到威廉斯检查完为止。”
　　正在此时，房门开了，年轻的威廉斯探头进来。
　　“有些东西我想让你们看看。在内维尔•斯特兰奇先生的房间里。”
　　他们随即起身，跟着他来到了位于房子西侧的套房里。
　　威廉斯指着地板上的一堆东西。那是一套深蓝色的外衣、裤子和马甲。
　　利奇厉声问道：“你在哪里找到的？”
　　“捆成一捆塞在衣橱的下面。来看看这个，长官。”
　　他拾起外衣，把深蓝色的袖口给他们看。
　　“看见那些深颜色的污迹了吗？长官，不是血迹的话我就不是人。再看看这儿，溅得整条袖子都是。”
　　“嗯，”巴特尔避开了对方急切的眼神，“我得说，这看起来对年轻的内维尔很不利啊。
　　房间里还有其他的衣服吗？”
　　“有一件深灰色的细条纹衣服搭在椅子上。在洗脸盆这里的地板上有很多水。”
　　“看上去就好像他心急火燎地把自己身上的血迹洗掉了似的？没错。不过这里离开着的窗户很近，雨水也会潲进来很多的。”
　　“但还不足以形成地上那几摊，长官。水到现在还没干呢。”
　　巴特尔默不作声。他的眼前呈现出一幅画面。一个男人手上和袖子上沾满血迹，匆匆忙忙脱掉衣服，把沾了血的衣服捆成一捆塞在衣橱里，然后拼命地用水冲他的双手和裸露的胳膊。
　　他朝另一面墙上的一扇门看过去。
　　威廉斯给他的眼神作了解答。
　　“那是斯特兰奇太太的房间，长官。门是锁着的。”
　　“锁着的？在这一边？”
　　“不。是在另一边。”
　　“在她那边，嗯？”
　　巴特尔思索了片刻，最后说道：
　　“我们再去见见那个老管家。”
　　赫尔斯多神情焦虑。利奇干脆地问道：
　　“赫尔斯多，为什么你没告诉我们昨晚你无意中听到了斯特兰奇先生和特雷西利安夫人之间的争吵？”
　　老人眨了眨眼睛。
　　“对于这件事我真的连想都没再想过，长官。我没觉得它是你们所说的那种争吵——那只能算是一次心平气和的意见分歧吧。”
　　利奇差一点儿就想说：“心平气和的意见分歧个鬼啊！”
　　他继续问道：“昨天晚餐的时候斯特兰奇先生穿的是什么衣服？”
　　赫尔斯多迟疑不决。巴特尔平静地说：
　　“深蓝色的套装还是灰色细条纹的衣服？你要是想不起来，我担保别人也会告诉我们的。”
　　赫尔斯多打破了沉默。
　　“我想起来了，长官。是他那身深蓝色的衣服。家里人，”他生怕丢掉自己的声望，于是又补充道，“在夏天的时候还没有换上晚礼服的习惯。他们经常在饭后出去——有时候在花园里，有时候去码头那边。”
　　巴特尔点点头。赫尔斯多离开了房间。他在门口与琼斯擦肩而过。琼斯看起来兴奋不已。
　　他说：
　　“真是易如反掌啊，长官。我得到了他们所有人的指纹。只有一个人的指纹对得上。当然我目前还只能是大致对比一下，但是我敢打赌绝对错不了。”
　　“哦？”巴特尔说。
　　“铁头球杆上的指纹，长官，是内维尔•斯特兰奇先生的。”
　　巴特尔靠回他的椅子里。
　　“好了，”他说，“看来问题已经迎刃而解了，不是吗？”
A Fine Italian Hand（7）
　　VII
　　Audrey was wearing a pale grey flannel coat and skirt. In it she looked so pale and ghostlike that Battle was reminded of Kay's words, "A grey ghost creeping about the house."She answered his questions simply and without any signs of emotion.
　　Yes, she had gone to bed at ten o'clock, the same time as Miss Aldin. She had heard nothing during the night.
　　"You'll excuse me butting into your private affairs," said Battle, "but will you explain just how it comes about that you are here in the house?""I always come to stay at this time. This year, my - my late husband wanted to come at the same time and asked me if I would mind.""It was his suggestion?"
　　"Oh, yes."
　　"Not yours?"
　　"Oh, no."
　　"But you agreed?"
　　"Yes, I agreed ... I didn't feel - that I could very well refuse.""Why not, Mrs. Strange?"
　　But she was vague.
　　"One doesn't like to be disobliging."
　　"You were the injured party?"
　　"I beg your pardon?"
　　"It was you who divorced your husband?"
　　"Yes."
　　"Do you - excuse me - feel any rancour against him?""No- not at all." 178
　　"You have a very forgiving nature, Mrs. Strange."She did not answer. He tried silence - but Audrey was not Kay, to be thus goaded into speech. She could remain silent without any hint of uneasiness. Battle acknowledged himself beaten.
　　"You are sure it was not your idea - this meeting?""Quite sure."
　　"You are on friendly terms with I-he present Mrs. Strange?""I don't think she likes me very much."
　　"Do you like her?"
　　"Yes. I think she is very beautiful."
　　"Well - thank you -I think that is all."
　　She got up and walked towards the door. Then she hesitated and came back.
　　"I would just like to say -" She spoke nervously and quickly. "You think Nevile did this - that he killed her because of the money. I'm quite sure that isn't so. Nevile has never cared much about money. I do know that. I was married to him for eight years, you know. I just can't see him killing anyone like that for money - it -it - isn't Nevile. I know my saying so isn't of any value as evidence - but I do wish you would believe it."She turned and hurried out of the room.
　　"And what do you make of her?" asked Leach. "I've never seen anyone so - so devoid of emotion.""She didn't show any," said Battle. "But it's there. Some very strong emotion. And I don't know what it is ..."
A Fine Italian Hand（5）
　　V
　　Back at Gull's Point, the two police officers received Williams' and Jones' reports.
　　Nothing of a suspicious or suggestive nature had been found in any of the bedrooms. The servants were clamouring to be allowed to get on with the housework. Should he give them the word?
　　"Might as well, I suppose," said Battle. "I'll just have a stroll myself first through the two upper floors. Rooms that haven't been done very often tell you something about their occupants that's useful to know."Sergeant Jones put down a small cardboard box on the table.
　　"From Mr. Nevile Strange's dark blue coat," he announced. "The red hairs were on the cuff, blonde hairs on the inside of the collar and the right shoulder."Battle took out the two long red hairs and the half-dozen blonde ones and looked at them. He said, with a faint twinkle in his eye: "Convenient. One blonde, one red-head and one brunette in this house. So we know where we are at once. Red hair on the cuff, blonde on the collar; Mr. Nevile Strange does seem to be a bit of a Bluebeard. His arm round one wife and the other one's head on his shoulder.""The blood on the sleeve has gone for analysis, sir. They'll ring us up as soon as they get the result."Leach nodded.
　　"What about the servants?"
　　"I followed your instructions, sir. None of them is under notice to leave, or seems likely to have borne a grudge against the old lady. She was strict, but well liked. In any case, the management of the servants lay with Miss Aldin. She seems to have been popular with them.""Thought she was an efficient woman the moment I laid eyes on her," said Battle. "If she's our murderess, she won't be easy to hang."Jones looked startled.
　　"But those prints on that niblick, sir, were -""I know -I know," said Battle. "The singularly obliging Mr. Strange's. There's a general belief that athletes aren't overburdened by brains (not at all true by the way), but I can't believe Nevile Strange is a complete moron. What about those senna pods of the maid's?""They were always on the shelf in the servants' bathroom on the second floor. She used to put 'em in to soak midday, and they stood there until the evening, when she went to bed.""So that absolutely anybody could get at them! Anybody inside the house, that is to say."Leach said with conviction: "It's an inside job, all right!""Yes, I think so. Not that this is one of those closed circle crimes. It isn't. Anyone who had a key could have opened the front door and walked in. Nevile Strange had that key last night - but it would probably be a simple matter to have got one cut, or an old hand could do it with a bit of wire. But I don't see any outsider knowing about the bell and that Barrett took senna at night! That's local, inside knowledge!""Come along, Jim, my boy. Let's go up and see this bathroom and all the rest of it."They started on the top floor. First came a box-room full of old broken furniture and junk of all kinds.
　　"I haven't looked through this, sir," said Jones. "I didn't know -""What you were looking for? Quite right. Only waste of time. From the dust on the floor nobody has been in here for at least six months."The servants' rooms were all on this floor, also two unoccupied bedrooms with a bathroom, and Battle looked into each room and gave it a cursory glance, noticing that Alice, the pop-eyed housemaid, slept with her window shut; that Emma, the thin one, had a great many relations, photographs of whom were crowded on her chest of drawers, and that Hurstall had one or two pieces of good, though cracked, Dresden and Crown Derby porcelain.
　　The cook's room was severely neat and the kitchen-maid's chaotically untidy. Battle passed on into the bathroom, which was the room nearest to the head of the stairs. Williams pointed out the long shelf over the wash-basin, on which stood tooth glasses and brushes, various unguents and bottles of salts and hair lotion. A packet of senna pods stood open at one end.
　　"No prints on the glass or packet?"
　　"Only the maid's own. I got hers from her room.""He didn't need to handle the glass," said Leach. "He'd only have to drop the stuff in."Battle went down the stairs, followed by Leach. Halfway down this top flight was a rather awkwardly placed window. A pole with a hook on the end stood in a corner.
　　"You draw down the top sash with that," explained Leach. "But there's a burglar screw. The window can be drawn down only so far. Too narrow for anyone to get in that way.""I wasn't thinking of anyone getting in," said Battle. His eyes were thoughtful.
　　He went in the first bedroom on the next floor, which was Audrey Strange's. It was neat and fresh, ivory brushes on the dressing-table - no clothes lying about. Battle looked into the wardrobe. Two plain coats and skirts, a couple of evening dresses, one or two summer frocks. The dresses were cheap, the tailor-mades well cut and expensive, but not new.
　　Battle nodded. He stood at the writing table a minute or two, fiddling with the pen tray on the left of the blotter.
　　Williams said: "Nothing of any interest on the blotting paper or in the waste-paper basket.""Your word's good enough," said Battle. "Nothing to be seen here." They went on to the other rooms.
　　Thomas Royde's was untidy, with the clothes lying about. Pipes and pipe ash on the tables and beside the bed, where a copy of Kipling's Kim lay half open.
　　"Used to native servants clearing up after him," said Battle. "Likes reading old favourites. Conservative type."Mary Aldin's room was small but comfortable. Battle looked at the travel books on the shelves and the old-fashioned dented silver brushes. The furnishings and colouring in the room were more modern than the rest of the house.
　　"She's not so conservative," said Battle. "No photographs, either. Not one who lives in the past."There were three or four empty rooms, all well kept and dusted ready for occupation, and a couple of bathrooms. Then came Lady Tressilian's big double room. After that, reached by going down three little steps, came the two rooms and bathroom occupied by the Stranges.
　　Battle did not waste much time in Nevile's room. He glanced out of the open casement window, below which the rocks fell sheer to the sea. The view was to the west, towards Stark Head, which rose, wild and forbidding, out of the water.
　　"Gets the afternoon sun," he murmured. "But rather a grim morning outlook. Nasty smell of seaweed at low tide, too. And that headland has got a grim look. Don't wonder it attracts suicides!"He passed into the larger room, the door of which had been unlocked.
　　Here everything was in wild confusion. Clothes lay about in heaps - filmy underwear, stockings, jumpers tried on and discarded - a patterned summer frock thrown sprawling over the back of a chair. Battle looked inside the wardrobe. It was full of furs, evening dresses, shorts, tennis frocks, playsuits.
　　Battle shut me doors again almost reverently.
　　"Expensive tastes," he remarked. "She must cost her husband a lot of money." Leach said darkly: "Perhaps that's why -" He left the sentence unfinished.
　　"Why he needed a hundred - or rather fifty thousand pounds? Maybe. We'd better see, I think, what he has to say about it."They went down to the library. Williams was despatched to tell the servants they could get on with the housework. The family were free to return to their rooms if they wished. They were to be informed of that fact and also that Inspector Leach would like an interview with each of them separately, starting with Mr. Nevile Strange.
　　When Williams had gone out of the room, Battle and Leach established themselves behind a massive Victorian table. A young policeman with notebook sat in the corner of the room, his pencil poised.
　　Battle said: "You carry on for a start, Jim. Make it impressive." As the other nodded his head. Battle rubbed his chin and frowned.
　　"I wish I knew what keeps putting Hercule Poirot into my head." "You mean that old chap - the Belgian - comic little guy?""Comic, my foot," said Superintendent Battle. "About as dangerous as a black mamba and a she-leopard - that's what he is when he starts making a mountebank of himself! I wish he was here - this sort of thing would be right up his street.""In what way?"
　　"Psychology," said Battle. "Real psychology - not the half-baked stuff people hand out who know nothing about it." His memory dwelt resentfully on Miss Amphrey and his daughter Sylvia. "No - the real, genuine article - knowing just what makes the wheels go round. Keep a murderer talking - that's one of his lines. Says everyone is bound to speak what's true sooner or later - because in the end it's easier than telling lies. And so they make some little slip they don't think matters - and that's when you get them.""So you're going to give Nevile Strange plenty of rope?"Battle gave an absent-minded assent. Then he added, in some annoyance and perplexity: "But what's really worrying me is - what put Hercule Poirot into my head? Upstairs - that's where it was. Now what did I see that reminded me of that little guy?"The conversation was put to an end by the arrival of Nevile Strange.
　　He looked pale and worried, but much less nervous than he had done at the breakfast table. Battle eyed him keenly. Incredible that a man who knew - and he must know if he were capable of any thought processes at all - that he had left his fingerprints on the instrument of the crime - and who had since had his fingerprints taken by the police - should show neither intense nervousness nor elaborate brazening of it out.
　　Nevile Strange looked quite natural - shocked, worried, grieved - and just slightly and healthily nervous.
　　Jim Leach was speaking in his pleasant West Country voice. "We would like you to answer certain questions, Mr. Strange. Both as to your movements last night and in reference to particular facts. At the same time I must caution you that you are not bound to answer these questions unless you like, and that if you prefer to do so you may have your solicitor present."He leaned back to observe the effect of this. Nevile Strange looked, quite plainly, bewildered.
　　"He hasn't the least idea what we're getting at, or else he's a damned good actor," Leach thought to himself. Aloud he said, as Nevile did not answer: "Well, Mr. Strange?"Nevile said: "Of course, ask me anything you like.""You realise," said Battle pleasantly, "that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may subsequently be used in a court of law in evidence."A flash of temper showed on Strange's face. He said sharply: "Are you threatening me?""No, no, Mr. Strange. Warning you."
　　Nevile shrugged his shoulders.
　　"I suppose all this is part of your routine. Go ahead.""You are ready to make a statement?"
　　"If that's what you call it."
　　"Then will you tell us exactly what you did last night. From dinner onwards, shall we say?""Certainly. After dinner we went into the drawing-room. We had coffee. We listened to the wireless - the news and so on. Then I decided to go across to Easterhead Bay Hotel and look up a chap who is staying there - a friend of mine.""That friend's name is?" "Latimer. Edward Latimer." "An intimate friend?""Oh, so-so. We've seen a good deal of him since he's been down here. He's been over to lunch and dinner and we've been over there."Battle said: "Rather late, wasn't it, to go off to Easterhead Bay?" "Oh, it's a gay spot - they keep it up till all hours." "But this is rather an early-to-bed household, isn't it?""Yes, on the whole. However, I took the latchkey with me. Nobody had to sit up.""Your wife didn't think of going with you?"There was a slight change, a stiffening in Nevile's tone as he said: "No, she had a headache. She'd already gone up to bed.""Please go on, Mr. Strange." "I was just going up to change -"Leach interrupted: "Excuse me, Mr. Strange. Change into what? Into evening dress, or out of evening dress?""Neither. I was wearing a blue suit - my best, as it happened, and as it was raining a bit and I proposed to take the ferry and walk the other side - it's about half a mile, as you know - I changed into an older suit - a grey pin-stripe, if you want me to go into every detail.""We do like- to get things clear," said Leach humbly. "Please go on.""I was going upstairs, as I say, when Barrett came and told me Lady Tressilian wanted to see me, so I went along and had a - a jaw with her for a bit."Battle said gently: "You were the last person to see her alive, I think, Mr. Strange?"Nevile flushed.
　　"Yes - yes -I suppose I was. She was quite all right then.""How long were you with her?"
　　"About twenty minutes to half an hour, I should think, then I went to my room, changed my suit and hurried off. I took the latchkey with me.""What time was that?"
　　"About half-past ten, I should think. I hurried down the hill, just caught the ferry starting and went across to the Easterhead side. I found Latimer at the hotel, we had a drink or two and a game of billiards. The time passed so quickly that I found I'd lost the last ferry back. It goes at one-thirty. So Latimer very decently got out his car and drove me back. That, as you know, means going all the way round by Saltington - sixteen miles. We left the hotel at two o'clock and got back here somewhere around half-past, I should say. I thanked Ted Latimer, asked him in for a drink, but he said he'd rather get straight back, so I let myself in and went straight up to bed. I didn't see or hear anything amiss. The house seemed all asleep and peaceful. Then this morning I heard that girl screaming and -"Leach stopped him.
　　"Quite, quite. Now to go back a little - to your conversation with Lady Tressilian -was she quite normal in her manner?""Oh, absolutely."
　　"What did you talk about?"
　　"Oh, one thing and another."
　　"Amicably?"
　　Nevile flushed.
　　"Certainly."
　　"You didn't, for instance," went on Leach smoothly, "have a violent quarrel?"Nevile did not answer at once. Leach said: "You had better tell the truth, you know. I'll tell you frankly some of your conversation was overheard."Nevile said shortly: "We had a bit of a disagreement. It was nothing.""What was the subject of the disagreement?"With an effort Nevile recovered his temper. He smiled.
　　"Frankly," he said, "she ticked me off. That often happened. If she disapproved of anyone she let them have it straight from the shoulder. She was old-fashioned, you see, and she was inclined to be down on modern ways and modern lines of thought - divorce - all that. We had an argument and I may have got a bit heated, but we parted on perfectly friendly terms - agreeing to differ." He added, with some heat: "I certainly didn't bash her over the head because I lost my temper over an argument - if that's what you think!"Leach glanced at Battle. Battle leaned forward ponderously across the table. He said: "You recognised that niblick as your property this morning. Have you any explanation for the fact that your fingerprints were found upon it?"Nevile stared. He said sharply: "I - but of course they would be - it's my club - I've often handled it.""Any explanation, I mean, for the fact that your fingerprints show that you were the last person to have handled it."Nevile sat quite still. The colour had gone out of his face.
　　"That's not true," he said at last. "It can't be. Somebody could have handled it after me - someone wearing gloves.""No, Mr. Strange - nobody could have handled it in the sense you mean - by raising it to strike - without blurring your own marks."There was a pause - a very long pause.
　　"Oh, God," said Nevile convulsively, and gave a long shudder. He put his hands over his eyes. The two policemen watched him.
　　Then he took away his hands. He sat up straight.
　　"It isn't true," he said quietly. "It simply isn't true. You think I killed her, but I didn't. I swear I didn't. There's some horrible mistake.""You've no explanation to offer about these fingerprints?""How can I have? I'm dumbfounded."
　　"Have you any explanation for the fact that the sleeves and cuffs of your dark blue suit are stained with blood.""Blood ? " It was a horror-struck whisper. "It couldn't be!" "You didn't, for instance, cut yourself -" "No. No, of course I didn't." They waited a little while.
　　Nevile Strange, his forehead creased, seemed to be thinking. He looked up at them at last with frightened, horror-stricken eyes.
　　"It's fantastic!" he said. "Simply fantastic. It's none of it true." "Facts are true enough," said Superintendent Battle.
　　"But why should I do such a thing? It's unthinkable - unbelievable! I've known Camilla all my life."Leach coughed.
　　"I believe you told us yourself, Mr. Strange, that you come into a good deal of money upon Lady Tressilian's death?""You think, that's why - But I don't want money! I don't need it!" "That," said Leach, with his little cough, "is what you say, Mr. Strange." Nevile sprang up.
　　"Look here, that's something I can prove. That I didn't need money. Let me ring up my bank manager - you can talk to him yourself."The call was put through. The line was clear and in a very few minutes they were through to London. Nevile spoke: "That you, Ronaldson? Nevile Strange speaking. You know my voice. Look here, will you give the police - they're here now - all the information they want about my affairs - yes - yes, please."Leach took the phone. He spoke quietly. It went on, question and answer. He replaced the phone at last. "Well," said Nevile eagerly.
　　Leach said impassively: "You have a substantial credit balance, and the bank have charge of all your investments and report them to be in a favourable condition.""So, you see, it's true what I said!"
　　"It seems so - but, again, Mr. Strange, you may have commitments, debts -payment of blackmail - reasons for requiring money of which we do not know.""But I haven't! I assure you I haven't. You won't find anything of that kind."Superintendent Battle shifted his heavy shoulders. He spoke in a kind, fatherly voice.
　　"We've sufficient evidence, as I'm sure you'll agree, Mr. Strange, to ask for a warrant for your arrest. We haven't done so - as yet. We're giving you the benefit of the doubt, you see."Nevile said bitterly: "You mean, don't you, that you've made up your minds I did it, but you want to get at the motive, so as to clinch the case against me?"Battle was silent. Leach looked at the ceiling.
　　Nevile said desperately: "It's like some awful dream. There's nothing I can say or do. It's like - like being in a trap and you can't get out."
　　Superintendent Battle stirred. An intelligent gleam showed between his half-closed lids.
　　"That's very nicely put," he said. "Very nicely put indeed. It gives me an idea ..."
精明的幕后黑手（4）
　　4
　　他们在警察局局长的办公室里——三个男人都表情沉重，满面愁容。
　　米切尔少校长叹一声说道：
　　“唉，我觉得除了逮捕他也没什么别的可做了吧？”
　　利奇轻声说道：
　　“看来是这样，长官。”
　　米切尔向巴特尔警司这边看过来。
　　“打起精神来，巴特尔，”他亲切地说，“又不是说你最好的朋友死了。”
　　巴特尔警司叹了口气。
　　“我不喜欢这个案子。”他说。
　　“我觉得没人喜欢，”米切尔说，“不过我想我们有足够的证据去申请拘捕令了。”
　　“何止是足够啊。”巴特尔说。
　　“实际上要是我们不申请的话，任何人都有可能会问我们到底为什么不申请。”
　　巴特尔闷闷不乐地点点头。
　　“咱们再过一遍案情吧，”警察局局长说道，“你们已经搞清了动机——老夫人一死，斯特兰奇和他太太就能继承相当大的一笔钱。他是我们所知的最后一个看见她还活着的人——有人听见他和她在吵架。当天晚上他穿的那身衣服上有血迹，当然了，最糟糕的是，在实际的凶器上找到了他的指纹，而且没有其他人的。”
　　“但是长官，”巴特尔说，“你也不喜欢这个结论。”
　　“我要是喜欢才怪了呢。”
　　“那你究竟为什么不喜欢呢，长官？”
　　米切尔少校揉了揉鼻子。“或许，这样显得那家伙也有点儿太傻了吧？”他提示道。
　　“然而长官，他们有时候表现得就是这么傻。”
　　“噢，我懂——我懂。他们要是不这么傻我们怎么吃这碗饭呢？”
　　巴特尔对利奇说道：
　　“你又不喜欢这件案子的什么呢，吉姆？”
　　利奇怏怏地动了动身子。
　　“我一直都挺喜欢斯特兰奇先生的。这么多年总是能时不时地看见他来这里。他是个很不错的绅士——还是把运动好手。”
　　“我不明白，”巴特尔缓缓说道，“凭什么一个优秀的网球运动员就不能同时也是个杀人凶手。这不矛盾啊。”他停顿了一下。“对于这个案子我不喜欢的是那把铁头球杆。”
　　“铁头球杆？”米切尔有些困惑地问道。
　　“是的，长官，要不就是那个铃。不是铃就是铁头球杆——二选一。”
　　他继续慢条斯理，字斟句酌地说道。
　　“在我们看来，究竟发生了什么？是斯特兰奇先生去了死者的房间，大吵了一架，然后一气之下用铁头球杆敲了她的头吗？如果是这样的话，这件事就是没有预谋的，那他又怎么会碰巧带着根铁头球杆呢？球杆可不是那种你会在晚上随身携带的东西。”
　　“他那时候没准儿在练挥杆呢——差不多类似的事情吧。”
　　“是有可能——但没人这么说。没有人看见他在练习。上一次有人看见他手里拿着铁头球杆还是在大约一个星期以前，那时候他正在沙滩上练习打沙坑球呢。要知道，照我看来，你不能两种想法都抱着不放。要么就是他们大吵一架之后他被惹火了——可是我得提醒你们，我看过他在球场上比赛，在这种锦标赛当中，那些网球明星们个个都很激动，精神高度紧张，如果他们很容易发脾气是会表现出来的。我从来没见过斯特兰奇先生生过气。我想他应该能够很好地控制自己的情绪，比大多数人强。然而我们却在这里暗示他暴跳如雷，敲碎了一个弱不禁风的老太太的脑袋。”
　　“还有另一种可能性，巴特尔。”警察局局长说道。
　　“我知道，长官。关于这件案子是有预谋的说法。他想要老太太的钱。这个倒是跟那个铃的事儿对得上——需要给女仆下药——但是这和铁头球杆以及争吵的事情又说不到一起去！如果他下定决心要杀她，他就应该非常小心，避免和她发生争执。他本可以让女仆服下安眠药，再在夜里悄悄潜入她的房间——打碎她的脑袋，呈现成一桩漂亮的小抢劫案的模样，然后再把球杆擦干净，小心谨慎地放回原来的地方！大错特错了，长官——这成了冷血预谋和即兴暴力的混合产物——可这两者压根是水火不容的啊！”
　　“你说得有点儿道理，巴特尔。但是……还有什么别的可能？”
　　“勾起我兴趣的是那把铁头球杆，长官。”
　　“没有人能够既用那把球杆打她的脑袋还不破坏内维尔的指纹——这一点确定无疑。”
　　“要这么说的话，”巴特尔警司说，“打破她脑袋的就是别的什么东西。”
　　米切尔少校深吸了一口气。
　　“这个假设可有点儿离谱，不是吗？”
　　“我觉得这也是常理，长官。要么就是斯特兰奇用球杆打了她，要么就没人这么做。我认为没人这么做。在这种情况下，那把铁头球杆就是故意放在那里的，血迹和头发也是后来抹上去的。拉曾比医生也不太喜欢那把铁头球杆——他不得不接受是因为那是显而易见的凶器，而且他也没法确定那家伙没被用过。”
　　米切尔少校向后靠回他的椅背。
　　“继续下去，巴特尔，”他说，“我让你放手干。下一步有什么打算？”
　　“先把那根铁头球杆放到一边，”巴特尔说，“这样还剩下什么？首先是动机。内维尔•斯特兰奇真的有动机要除掉特雷西利安夫人吗？他继承了钱——在我看来，很大程度上取决于他是否需要那些钱。他说他不缺钱。我建议我们核实一下这件事，查清楚他的财务状况。如果他在经济上陷于困境并且需要钱的话，那这个案子对他就会大大不利了。另一方面来说，如果他说的是实话，他的财务状况很好，那么——”
　　“哦，那么什么？”
　　“那么，我们就该看一看这个家里其他人的动机了。”
　　“这么说，你觉得内维尔•斯特兰奇是被设计陷害了？”
　　巴特尔警司眯起了眼睛。
　　“我在什么地方看到过一种说法，很对我的胃口。说的是高明的幕后黑手。那仿佛正是我在这件案子里看到的东西。表面上看这就是一桩直截了当的粗暴罪行，但我却似乎从中瞥见了一些其他的东西——一只高明的幕后黑手在操纵……”
　　警察局局长看着巴特尔，停了好久都没开口。“你可能是对的，”最终他说道，“真见鬼，这件案子里有些事情是很蹊跷。现在，你对于我们的行动计划有什么想法吗？”
　　巴特尔轻轻摸着自己方正的下巴。
　　“嗯，长官，”他说，“我处理案子一向喜欢用最直接的方式。既然所有这一切都让我们去怀疑内维尔•斯特兰奇先生，那我们就继续怀疑他吧。目前还不至于真的要逮捕他，但要给他这方面的暗示，盘问他，让他感到害怕——同时从总体上观察每个人的反应。核实他的供述，缜密地查证那天晚上他的行踪。事实上，就是尽可能直截了当地表明咱们的意图。”
　　“够不择手段的，”米切尔少校眼神闪烁地说道，“这是要来一出明星巴特尔领衔主演的辣手警官啊。”
　　警司微微一笑。
　　“我一向喜欢做别人期望我做的事情，长官。这一次我有意要慢一点——不慌不忙，从容不迫。我想要四处探听一下，而怀疑内维尔•斯特兰奇先生恰好给了我一个很好的理由。
　　你知道吗，我猜想这栋房子里一直在发生着什么怪事情。”
　　“从男女关系的角度来看？”
　　“你愿意这么说也行，长官。”
　　“用你自己的方法去处理吧，巴特尔。你和利奇继续查下去。”
　　“谢谢你，长官，”巴特尔站起身来，“律师那边没有什么有用的线索吗？”
　　“没有，我给他们打电话了。我跟特里劳尼还挺熟的。他正要寄给我一份马修爵士遗嘱的副本，也有特雷西利安夫人的。她自己每年能有大约五百英镑的入账——都投在金边证券 [3] 上了。她给芭雷特留了一份遗产，还有一小部分给了赫尔斯多，剩下的都留给玛丽•奥尔丁了。”
　　“那三个人我们也得留心一下。”巴特尔说。
　　米切尔看起来被逗乐了。
　　“疑神疑鬼的家伙，不是吗？”
　　“让自己满脑子都想着那五万英镑也没用，”巴特尔不动声色地说，“很多人会为了不到五十英镑去杀人呢。这取决于你有多想要这笔钱。芭雷特得到了一份遗产——也没准儿她未雨绸缪给自己下了药以便避开嫌疑呢。”
　　“她可几乎把小命都搭上了。拉曾比到现在还不让我们讯问她呢。”
　　“或许是因为无知吧，做得有点儿过了头。没准儿赫尔斯多也急需用钱。还有奥尔丁小姐，如果她自己没什么钱，兴许会想要在自己老得不行了之前捞上一小笔去享受一下生活呢。”
　　警察局长看上去满脸疑云。
　　“好吧，”他说，“案子就交给你们两个了。接着干吧。”
A Fine Italian Hand（8）
　　VIII
　　Thomas Royde came last. He sat, solemn and stiff, blinking a little like an owl.
　　He was home from Malaya - first time for eight years. Had been in the habit of staying at Gull's Point ever since he was a boy. Mrs. Audrey Strange was a distant cousin - and had been brought up by his family from the age of nine. On the preceding night he had gone to bed just before eleven. Yes, he had heard Mr. Nevile Strange leave the house, but had not seen him. Nevile had left at about twenty-past ten or perhaps a little later. He himself had heard nothing during the night. He was up and in the garden when the discovery of Lady Tressilian's body had been made. He was an early riser.
　　There was a pause.
　　"Miss Aldin has told us that there was a state of tension in the house. Did you notice this, too?""I don't think so. Don't notice things much.""That's a lie," thought Battle to himself. "You notice a good deal, I should say -more than most."No, he didn't think Nevile Strange had been short of money in any way. He certainly had not seemed to. But he knew very little about Mr. Strange's affairs.
　　"How well did you know the second Mrs. Strange?" "I met her here for the first time." Battle played his last card.
　　"You may know, Mr. Royde, that we've found Mr. Nevile Strange's fingerprints on the weapon. And we've found blood on the sleeve of the coat he wore last night."He paused. Royde nodded.
　　"He was telling us," he muttered.
　　"I'm asking you frankly: Do you think he did it?"Thomas Royde never liked to be hurried. He waited for a minute - which is a very long time - before he answered: "Don't see why you ask me. Not my business. It's yours. Should say, myself - very unlikely.""Can you think of anyone who seems to you more likely?"Thomas shook his head. "Only person I think likely can't possibly have done it. So that's that.""And who is that?"
　　But Royde shook his head more decidedly.
　　"Couldn't possibly say. Only my private opinion.""It's your duty to assist the police."
　　"Tell you any facts. This isn't facts. Just an idea. And it's impossible anyway.""We didn't get much out of him," said Leach when Royde had gone.
　　Battle agreed.
　　"No, we didn't. He's got something in his mind - something quite definite. I'd like to know what it is. This is a very peculiar sort of crime, Jim, my boy -"The telephone rang before Leach could answer. He took up the receiver and spoke. After a minute or two of listening he said "Good," and slammed it down.
　　"Blood on the coat sleeve is human," he announced.
　　"Same blood group as Lady T's. Looks as though Nevile Strange is for it -"Battle had walked over to the window and was looking out with considerable interest.
　　"A beautiful young man out there," he remarked. "Quite beautiful and a definite wrong 'un, I should say. It's a pity Mr. Latimer - for I feel that that's Mr. Latimer -was over at Easterhead Bay last night. He's the type that would smash in his own grandmother's head if he thought he could get away with it and if he knew he'd make something out of it.""Well, there wasn't anything in it for him," said Leach. "Lady T's death doesn't benefit him in any way whatever." The telephone bell rang again. "Damn this phone, what's the matter now?"He went to it.
　　"Hullo. Oh, it's you, doctor. What? Come round, has she? What? What?"He turned his head. "Uncle, just come and listen to this."Battle came over and took the phone. He listened, his face as usual showing no expression. He said to Leach: "Get Nevile Strange, Jim."When Nevile came in, Battle was just replacing the phone on its hook.
　　Nevile, looking white and spent, stared curiously at the Scotland Yard superintendent, trying to read the emotion behind the wooden mask.
　　"Mr. Strange," said Battle. "Do you know anyone who dislikes you very much?" Nevile stared and shook his head.
　　"Sure?" Battle was impressive. "I mean, sir, someone who does more than dislike you - someone who - frankly - hates your guts?"Nevile sat bolt upright.
　　"No. No, certainly not. Nothing of the kind.""Think, Mr. Strange. Is there no one you've injured in any way -" Nevile flushed.
　　"There's only one person I can be said to have injured, and she's not the kind who bears rancour. That's my first wife, when I left her for another woman. But I can assure you that she doesn't hate me. She's - she's been an angel."The Superintendent leaned forward across the table.
　　"Let me tell you, Mr. Strange, you're a very lucky man. I don't say I liked the case against you -I didn't. But it was a case! It would have stood up all right, and unless the jury happened to have liked your personality, it would have hanged you.""You speak," said Nevile, "as though all that were past.""It is past," said Battle. "You've been saved, Mr. Strange, by pure chance."Nevile still looked inquiringly at him.
　　"After you left her last night," said Battle, "Lady Tressilian rang the bell for her maid."He watched whilst Nevile took it in. "After. Then Barrett saw her -""Yes. Alive and well. Barrett also saw you leave the house before she went in to her mistress."Nevile said: "But the niblick - my fingerprints -""She wasn't hit with that niblick. Dr. Lazenby didn't like it all the time. I saw that. She was killed with something else. That niblick was put there deliberately to throw suspicion on you. It may be by someone who overheard the quarrel and so selected you as a suitable victim, or it may be because -"He paused, arid then repeated his question: "Who is there in this house that hates you, Mr. Strange?"
精明的幕后黑手（5）
　　5
　　回到海鸥角以后，两位警官接到了威廉斯和琼斯的报告。
　　所有的卧室里都再没发现什么可疑的东西。仆人们正吵着让警方允许他们去继续做家务。他能松这个口吗？
　　“我想，这样也好，”巴特尔说，“我要先去楼上那两层溜达溜达。那些不经常收拾的房间会告诉你一些关于房客的有用的事情。”
　　琼斯警长把一个小纸盒子放在桌子上。
　　“这是从内维尔•斯特兰奇先生的深蓝色外衣上找到的，”他郑重地说道，“红头发在袖口上，金发是在领子的内面和右肩。”
　　巴特尔把那两根红色的长发和五六根金发拿出来端详着，然后他眼里微微闪着光地说道：
　　“正合适。这栋房子里正好有一个金发的、一个红发的和一个深褐色头发的。所以我们立刻就知道该从哪儿下手了。红头发在袖口，金发在领子上？内维尔•斯特兰奇先生看起来还真有点儿像蓝胡子。他一手搂着一个老婆，而另一个还把脑袋靠在他肩膀上。”
　　“袖子上的血迹已经送去分析了，长官。一有结果他们就会给我们打电话。”
　　利奇点点头。
　　“仆人们怎么样了？”
　　“我遵照了你的指示，长官。没有人接到过解雇的通知，似乎也没人对老太太怀恨在心。她很严厉，但是很受大家喜爱。而且管理仆人们的责任是交给奥尔丁小姐的。她似乎已经和他们打成一片了。”
　　“我第一眼看到她就觉得她是个能干的女人，”巴特尔说，“假如她就是我们要找的凶手的话，想让她伏法还真不容易呢。”
　　琼斯看上去大吃一惊。
　　“但长官，那根铁头球杆上的指纹可是——”
　　“我知道——我知道，”巴特尔说，“是那个特别古道热肠的斯特兰奇先生的。大家都说运动员四肢发达头脑简单（顺便说一句，这话一点儿都不对），但我可不相信内维尔•斯特兰奇会傻到那种地步。那个女仆的番泻实查得怎么样了？”
　　“那东西通常放在二楼仆人浴室的架子上。她总是在正午时分把它们浸泡起来，然后就放在那里直到晚上她上床睡觉。”
　　“这么说来，毫无疑问任何人都可以拿到它们啦！换句话说，任何在这所房子里的人。”
　　利奇坚定地说道：
　　“这案子的确是内部人干的！”
　　“没错，我也这么想。倒不是说这是那种封闭模式的犯罪。这桩案子不是。任何人拿了钥匙就能打开前门进来。昨晚是内维尔•斯特兰奇拿着钥匙——但要想把锁弄开可能也不是难事，让一个老手来的话没准儿用一根铁丝就能搞定了。不过我可不觉得有任何外来者会知道那个铃，还有芭雷特晚上要喝番泻叶！那是只有家里人才知道的事情！
　　“来吧，吉姆，我的孩子。我们上楼去看看这间浴室，还有剩下的其他那些房间。”
　　他们从顶层开始查看。首先来到一间储藏室，那里堆满了损坏了的旧家具和各式各样的破烂货。
　　“我还没检查过这里，长官，”琼斯说，“我不知道——”
　　“你还想找到什么？完全正确，只是在浪费时间。从地板上的灰尘来看这里至少已经有半年没人来过了。”
　　仆人们的房间都在这一层，此外还有两间没人用的卧室带着一间浴室，巴特尔在每个房间里都匆匆扫了一眼，注意到那个凸眼睛的女仆艾丽丝是关着窗户睡觉的；那个瘦瘦的艾玛有一大堆亲戚，她的五斗柜上满满当当都是他们的照片，而赫尔斯多则拥有一两件虽说有点儿裂纹，但品质依然上好的德累斯顿以及皇冠德贝陶瓷制品。
　　厨师的房间纤尘不染，而厨房女佣的房间则乱作一团。巴特尔继续向前，走进了最靠近楼梯口的浴室。威廉斯指给他看洗脸盆上方的长架子，上面摆放着漱口杯和牙刷、各种油膏以及瓶瓶罐罐的浴盐和洗发水。一包番泻实敞开着放在架子的一端。
　　“玻璃杯或者包装袋上没有指纹？”
　　“只有那个女仆自己的。我从她的房间里取到了她的指纹。”
　　“他并不需要拿起杯子，”利奇说道，“只要把药放进去就行了。”
　　巴特尔走下楼去，利奇紧随其后。在最顶上这段楼梯的中部有一扇位置有些别扭的窗户。一根末端带钩的杆子立在角落里。
　　“你可以用那根杆子拉开窗户，”利奇解释道，“不过那儿有个防盗螺钉。窗子可以向下拉开，但也只能到那儿了。对任何人来说想从那里进来都太窄了。”
　　“我没想着有人从那儿进来。”巴特尔说，他的眼神显示出他在沉思。
　　他走进了下面一层的第一个房间，那是奥德丽•斯特兰奇的卧室。房间里整洁亮丽，梳妆台上放着几把象牙刷子——没有散放在各处的衣物。巴特尔看了看衣橱里面，两身普普通通的女式套装，两三件晚礼服，一两条夏天穿的连衣裙。连衣裙是便宜货，而定制的服装则精工细作，价格不菲，只是已经不太新了。
　　巴特尔点点头。他在写字桌前站了片刻，手里摆弄着放在吸墨纸左边的笔盘。
　　威廉斯说道：“吸墨纸上和废纸篓里都没有什么让人感兴趣的东西。”
　　“你说得很对，”巴特尔说，“这儿没什么可看的。”
　　他们继续去看其他人的房间。
　　托马斯•罗伊德的房间杂乱无章，衣物随处散放。桌上和床边有几个烟斗，到处都是烟灰，床上还扔着一本翻开一半的吉卜林 [4] 的《基姆》。
　　“习惯于让当地的用人们跟在他后面收拾，”巴特尔说，“喜欢看这些特别喜爱的旧书。
　　是个因循守旧的人。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁的房间比较小，但是很舒适。巴特尔看着架子上的旅行书籍以及那些老式且带着凹痕的银刷。这个房间里的家具陈设和色调比这栋房子里的其他房间都更新潮。
　　“她没有那么保守，”巴特尔说，“一张照片都没有。她不是那种活在过往中的人。”
　　这一层有三四个空房间，都维护得很好，收拾得干干净净，随时可以供人入住，此外还有两间浴室。接着是特雷西利安夫人的双人间。再走过去下三级小台阶，就是斯特兰奇夫妇所住的带浴室的两个房间。
　　巴特尔没在内维尔的房间里浪费太多时间。他从敞开的窗户向外面瞥了一眼，窗子是向西开的，下面是直入海底的岩壁，对面就是恣意耸出水面令人望而生畏的斯塔克岬。
　　“下午阳光充足，”他喃喃自语道，“不过早上的景致就有些阴郁了。潮落的时候海草的气味也够难闻的。而那个海岬看起来一副阴森森的样子，也难怪会引得有人去自杀！”
　　两间屋子之间的门锁已经打开了，他走进了更大的那间。
　　这里一片狼藉。衣服乱七八糟地堆成堆——薄薄的内衣，长筒袜，套头衫试完了就随手一扔——一条带图案的夏季连衣裙胡乱地搭在椅背上。巴特尔看了看衣橱里面，那里满是毛皮大衣、晚礼服、短裤、网球裙以及运动装。
　　巴特尔近乎虔诚地又把柜门关上了。
　　“品位够奢华的，”他评论道，“她肯定花了她丈夫很多钱。”
　　利奇阴沉地说道：
　　“或许这就是为什么——”
　　他把后半句话咽了回去。
　　“为什么他需要十万——更确切地说是五万英镑？或许吧。我想我们最好听听他对此有什么要说的。”
　　他们下楼来到了书房。威廉斯被派去告诉仆人们他们可以继续做家务，而家里人如果愿意的话也可以自由回到各自的房间了。说完这些，他还通知他们，利奇督察打算分别找每个人谈话，从内维尔•斯特兰奇先生开始。
　　威廉斯走出房间之后，巴特尔和利奇就在一张维多利亚时期的巨大桌子后面坐定了。
　　一名年轻警员拿着笔记本坐在房间的角落里，手里的铅笔随时准备记录。
　　巴特尔说：
　　“你先开个头吧，吉姆。要让他印象深刻。”对方一边点头，巴特尔一边揉搓着他的下巴，眉头紧蹙。
　　“我希望能知道为什么我脑子里总想起赫尔克里•波洛来。”
　　“你是说那个老头儿——比利时人——滑稽的小矮个儿？”
　　“滑稽个鬼啊，”巴特尔警司说，“就像黑曼巴 [5] 和母豹子一样危险——每当他打算要装成个江湖骗子的时候就是这样。我希望他在这儿——这方面的事情他轻车熟路。”
　　“哪方面？”
　　“心理学，”巴特尔说，“真正的心理学，而不是从那些对此一窍不通的人嘴里说出来的不靠谱的玩意儿。”他心里悻悻然地想到了安姆弗雷小姐和他的女儿西尔维娅。“不——是货真价实的东西——刚好能知道究竟是什么在推动案情的发展。让凶手不断地说话，这就是他的方法之一。他说每个人迟早都会吐露实情的，因为到头来说实话还是比说谎要简单。于是他们会在某些他们认为无关紧要的事情上说漏嘴。这时候你就可以抓住把柄了。”
　　“这么说你也准备让内维尔•斯特兰奇作茧自缚喽？”
　　巴特尔心不在焉地应和了一声，随后又带着烦恼和困惑点了点头。
　　“但真正令我担忧的是，到底是什么让我想起了赫尔克里•波洛？在楼上——就在那儿。可我究竟看见了什么才让我想起那个小个子的家伙呢？”
　　伴随着内维尔•斯特兰奇的到来，这场谈话也就此告一段落。
　　他看上去面色苍白，忧心忡忡，不过比起在早餐桌旁的样子，那股紧张劲儿已经消减了大半。巴特尔目光锐利地看着他。一个人在得知自己的指纹留在了凶器之上——只要他还能够思考就能知道——而且后来还被警察取了指纹之后——居然既没有表现出强烈的紧张，也没有竭力厚着脸皮摆出一副若无其事的嘴脸，这还真是让人觉得不可思议。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇看起来相当自然：震惊，忧虑，悲伤，以及微微流露出的一丝无伤大雅的紧张。
　　吉姆•利奇正用他那讨人喜欢的西部乡村语音说着话。
　　“我们想让你回答一些问题，斯特兰奇先生。这里包括你昨晚的行踪以及一些特定的事实。同时我必须要提醒你，你并不是非要回答这些问题，除非你想回答，另外如果你愿意的话也可以让你的律师在场。”
　　他向后靠去，观察着这段话产生的效果。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇的一脸困惑显而易见。
　　“他一点儿都不知道我们葫芦里卖的是什么药，要不然他就是个好演员。”利奇心里暗想。看见内维尔没有回应，他又大声说道：“怎么样，斯特兰奇先生？”
　　内维尔说：“当然，想问我什么你就问吧。”
　　“你知道，”巴特尔客气地说道，“你说的任何话都会被记录在案，随后还可能会作为呈堂证供。”
　　斯特兰奇的脸上掠过一丝怒意。他厉声说道：“你是在威胁我吗？”
　　“不，不，斯特兰奇先生。是警告你。”
　　内维尔耸了耸肩膀。
　　“我想所有这些都是你们的例行程序。继续吧。”
　　“你准备好做一份供述了？”
　　“如果你愿意这么叫的话。”
　　“那么，你能确切地告诉我们昨晚你都干了些什么吗？我们可不可以从晚餐开始说起？”
　　“没问题。晚饭以后我们去了客厅，喝了咖啡。我们还听了无线电广播——新闻之类的。然后我决定去一趟复活节海湾酒店，拜访一个住在那儿的家伙，是我的一个朋友。”
　　“那个朋友叫什么名字？”
　　“拉蒂默。爱德华•拉蒂默。”
　　“很亲近的朋友？”
　　“哦，一般般吧。自从他到本地来以后我们老能看见他。他来这儿吃过午饭和晚饭，我们也去过他那儿。”
　　巴特尔说：
　　“那时候去复活节海湾有点儿晚了吧，不是吗？”
　　“噢，那是个娱乐场所，他们会一直开到深更半夜的。”
　　“不过这家的人都睡得比较早，对吗？”
　　“没错，大体上是这样。但我带了门钥匙，不用人熬夜等我。”“你太太没想着要跟你一起去？”
　　内维尔说话的语气稍稍起了变化，变得有些僵硬：
　　“没有，她头疼。她那时候已经上床了。”
　　“请接着说下去，斯特兰奇先生。”
　　“我正准备上楼去换衣服——”
　　利奇打断了他的话。
　　“抱歉，斯特兰奇先生。换成什么？换上晚礼服，还是脱掉晚礼服？”
　　“都不是。我穿着一身蓝色的套装——碰巧是我最好的一身衣服，当时外面有点儿下雨，而我又打算去乘渡船，然后到对岸再走上一段——你知道，大概有半英里的路程——于是我换了一身旧点儿的衣服——如果你们想让我详细说明的话，那是一身灰色细条纹的衣服。”
　　“我们的确喜欢把事情搞清楚，”利奇谦逊地说道，“继续说吧。”
　　“如我所说，我正要上楼去的时候，芭雷特来找我，说特雷西利安夫人想见我，于是我就去了，还跟她聊了几句。”
　　巴特尔温和地说道：
　　“我想，你是最后一个看见她活着的人吧，斯特兰奇先生？”
　　内维尔的脸顿时通红。
　　“对……对……我想我是。那时候她还好好的呢。”
　　“你跟她在一起待了多久？”
　　“我想，大概二十分钟到半个小时吧，然后我就回我的房间，换了衣服，匆匆忙忙地走了。我随身带着钥匙。”
　　“那时候是几点？”
　　“我想应该是十点半左右。我迅速下了山，正好坐上就要启程的渡船到了复活节海岬那边。我在酒店找到了拉蒂默，我俩喝了一两杯，又打了一局台球。时间过得飞快，我发现我错过了最后一班回程的渡船。那是一点半开船的。于是拉蒂默就很大方地开车送我回来了。你们也知道，那就意味着要绕过整个索廷顿——十六英里呢。我们两点钟离开酒店，回到这里大约是两点半。我向拉蒂默表示了感谢，还请他进来喝一杯，不过他说他还是想直接返回去，所以我就自己进来，直接上楼上床睡觉了。我既没有看到也没有听到什么异常情况。整栋房子看起来都睡着了，一片宁静。接着就是今天早上，我听到了那个女孩尖叫，然后——”
　　利奇中断了他的叙述。
　　“的确，的确。现在我们再往前回溯一点儿——回到你和特雷西利安夫人的谈话上——她的举止都很正常吗？”
　　“哦，绝对正常。”
　　“你们说了些什么？”
　　“哦，东拉西扯。”
　　“心平气和地？”
　　内维尔脸红了。
　　“当然。”
　　“你们之间没有——比如说吧，”利奇继续平静地说，“发生过激烈的争吵？”
　　内维尔没有立即回答。利奇说道：
　　“你也知道，你最好如实相告。我可以坦率地告诉你，你们之间的有些谈话被人无意中听到了。”
　　内维尔没好气地说道：
　　“我们就是有一点儿意见不合。没什么大不了的。”
　　“为什么事儿意见不合？”
　　内维尔强压住了自己的脾气。他微微一笑。“坦白地说，”他说道，“她斥责我来着。这种事司空见惯。如果她不赞同谁的话，就会当面毫不客气地说出来。你知道，她是个老派的人，对于如今时髦的做法和想法总是有些看不顺眼——比如离婚什么的。我们有过争论，我可能是有点儿激动，不过我们分开的时候还是非常友好的——求同存异嘛。”接着他又带着点儿怒气补了一句，“我可没有因为一次争吵就怒火中烧打烂了她的头——如果你们就是这么想的话！”
　　利奇瞥了巴特尔一眼。巴特尔把身子缓缓向前俯过桌子。他说：
　　“今天早上你认出了那把铁头球杆是你的东西。你对于在那上面发现了你的指纹这件事有什么要解释的吗？”
　　内维尔瞪大了眼睛。他厉声说道：
　　“我……可那上面当然就该有我的指纹啊！那是我的球杆，我又经常拿着它。”
　　“我的意思是，你的指纹表明你是最后一个拿过这把球杆的人，这个事实你怎么解释？”
　　内维尔呆若木鸡地坐在那里，脸上血色全无。
　　“那不是真的，”他最终开口说道，“不可能是这样的。有人可能在我之后拿过它——某个戴着手套的人。”
　　“不，斯特兰奇先生，没有人能够如你所说的那样拿起它，把它举起来打人——还不破坏你留下的指纹。”
　　一阵静默——很长时间的静默。
　　“哦，上帝啊。”内维尔突然颤抖不已地说道。他用双手蒙住了眼睛。两位警官看着他。
　　然后他拿开了自己的手，坐直了身子。
　　“这不是真的，”他轻声说道，“这根本不是真的。你们认为我杀了她，但我没有。我发誓我没杀她。这是个天大的错误。”
　　“那你对于这些指纹也没有什么可解释的吗？”
　　“我怎么解释？我已经哑口无言了。”
　　“你那件深蓝色的衣服袖口和领子上沾上了血迹，对此你有何解释？”
　　“血迹？”这是一声惊恐万状的低语，“这不可能啊！”
　　“比如说，你没有划伤自己吧——”
　　“不。没有，我当然没有！”
　　他们等了一小会儿。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇的眉头紧蹙，看上去似乎正在思考。最终他抬起吓坏了的眼睛看着他们。
　　“这太荒唐了！”他说，“实在是荒唐。这些事儿没一件是真的。”
　　“事实够清楚的了。”巴特尔警司说道。
　　“但我为什么要做这种事啊？这简直匪夷所思——令人难以置信！我差不多从生下来就认识卡米拉了。”
　　利奇咳嗽了一声。
　　“斯特兰奇先生，我相信你亲口告诉过我们，特雷西利安夫人的死会让你继承一大笔钱，对吧？”
　　“你们觉得这就是杀人动机，对吗——可我不想要钱！我不需要！”
　　“这个嘛，”利奇一边轻轻咳嗽一边说道，“只是你嘴上说的，斯特兰奇先生。”
　　内维尔一跃而起。
　　“听着，这件事我是可以证明的，也就是说我并不需要钱。让我给我的银行经理打个电话——你们可以自己跟他说。”
　　电话拨出去了。线路很畅通，短短几分钟他们就和伦敦通上了话。内维尔说：
　　“是你吗，罗纳德森？我是内维尔•斯特兰奇。你能听出我的声音。听我说，你能告诉警方——他们现在就在这儿——关于我的资产的全部资料吗？他们想要——好的——好的，稍等。”
　　利奇接过了听筒。他平心静气地说着，通话在继续，有问有答。
　　最后他挂上了听筒。
　　“怎么样？”内维尔急切地问道。
　　利奇面无表情地说：
　　“你的存款余额还相当多，而银行负责你所有的投资，并且报告说形势都很不错。”
　　“这下你们知道我说的都是真话了吧！”
　　“看起来是这样——不过我还得说，斯特兰奇先生，你也可能有一些需要定期偿付的款项，或者债务——或者支付勒索金——各种需要用钱而我们并不知道的原因。”
　　“但是我没有！我向你们保证我没有！调查这类事情你们会一无所获的。”
　　巴特尔警司动了动他宽厚的肩膀，以慈父般的语气和蔼地开口说道：
　　“我担保你也同意，斯特兰奇先生，我们有充足的证据去申请逮捕令来逮捕你。但到现在为止，我们并没有这么做。你知道，我们是在给你做无罪推定。”
　　内维尔痛苦地说道：“你是说，你们心里已经认定了是我干的，只不过你们想要找到动机，从而把这个不利于我的案子坐实，对吗？”
　　巴特尔默然无语。利奇抬眼看着天花板。
　　内维尔绝望地说道：
　　“这就像是场噩梦一样。我既不能说什么也不能做什么。就好像……好像掉进一个陷阱里，无法逃脱。”
　　巴特尔警司打起了精神，他半睁半闭的眼睛里透出一道智慧的光芒。
　　“你说得太好了，”他说，“真是说得太好了。这让我有了一个想法……”
精明的幕后黑手（6）
　　6
　　琼斯警长很巧妙地让内维尔从大厅离开，随后又从落地窗把凯带进屋来，从而避免了夫妇两人的碰面。
　　“不过他还是会见到所有其他的人。”利奇说道。
　　“那样更好，”巴特尔说，“只有这个人是我想要趁她还蒙在鼓里的时候去对付的。”
　　天阴沉沉的，冷风习习。凯穿着一条花呢裙和一件紫色毛衣，再往上看，她的头发就像是一个被擦得锃光瓦亮的铜碗。她半是害怕，半是兴奋。她的美貌和活力在书籍和鞍背椅这种黯淡无光的维多利亚式背景的衬托之下盛情绽放。
　　利奇不费吹灰之力就引导着她就前一晚的行踪做了解释说明。
　　她当时头疼，早早就上了床——她认为是在九点一刻左右。她睡得很沉，直到次日清晨被某个人的尖叫声吵醒。
　　巴特尔开始接手问话了。
　　“你丈夫在晚上出去之前就没进屋去看看你怎么样了吗？”
　　“没有。”
　　“从你离开客厅到第二天早上，你就没有见过他。对吗？”
　　凯点点头。
　　巴特尔轻轻摸了摸下巴。
　　“斯特兰奇太太，你和你丈夫房间之间的那道门是锁着的。是谁锁的？”
　　凯立刻答道：“我锁的。”
　　巴特尔一语不发——他在等待着——就像一只上了年纪的慈父般的老猫那样，等着老鼠从他紧盯着的洞口里钻出来。
　　他的沉默起到了提问都未必能达到的效果。凯不可遏制地爆发了：
　　“哦，我猜你们是非得打破砂锅问到底了！那个老朽的赫尔斯多肯定听到了我们俩在下午茶之前说的话，我要是不告诉你们的话他也会说的。很可能他已经跟你们说了吧。内维尔和我吵了一架——是大吵了一架！我对他大发雷霆！我上去睡觉并且把门锁上了，因为我还在气头儿上呢！”
　　“我明白——我明白，”巴特尔带着最大的同情心说道，“那么你们究竟是因为什么事情吵架呢？”
　　“这有什么要紧的吗？噢，我不介意告诉你。内维尔的表现就像个彻头彻尾的白痴，尽管这全是那个女人的错。”
　　“哪个女人？”
　　“他头一个老婆。打一开始就是她让他来这儿的。”
　　“你的意思是说——她是为了要见你？”
　　“就是。内维尔还以为这都是他自己的主意呢——这可怜的笨蛋！但其实根本不是。他压根儿就没想过这种事儿，直到有一天他在海德公园碰见了她，她想办法把这个点子塞到了他的脑袋瓜里，还使他相信这是他自己想出来的。他是真的以为那是他自己的主意，但我从一开始就看透了奥德丽那双精明的幕后黑手。”
　　“她为什么要做这种事？”巴特尔问道。
　　“因为她想要再次得到他。”凯说。她的语速很快，呼吸也跟着急促起来。“对于他移情别恋这件事她从来就没有原谅过他。这是她的报复。她让他安排我们都一起来这里，然后她就开始对他施展手腕了。自从我们到这儿起她就一直在干这件事。你们也知道，她很聪明，知道怎么摆出一副令人同情又难以捉摸的样子——没错，而且还知道怎么把另一个男人也拉进来。她把托马斯•罗伊德在同一时间也弄到这儿来，那是个对她一直都痴心不改的家伙，而她则装模作样打算嫁给他，借此把内维尔逼疯。”
　　她停了下来，气愤地喘着粗气。
　　巴特尔温和地说道：
　　“我本该想着他会为她感到高兴呢——呃……在一个老朋友那里又找到了幸福。”
　　“高兴？他都要嫉妒死了！”
　　“那他肯定非常喜欢她。”
　　“噢，他是喜欢她，”凯愤愤不平地说道，“她就是有意要这样的。”巴特尔的手指仍在那儿狐疑地摸着下巴颏儿。
　　“你本来可以拒绝这次来访的吧。”他提醒道。
　　“我怎么拒绝？那看起来就好像我吃醋了似的！”
　　“嗯，”巴特尔说，“可说到底，你就是吃醋了，不是吗？”
　　凯顿时满脸通红。
　　“一直都是！我一直都吃奥德丽的醋。从最开始——或者说从差不多一开始的时候起就是。我老是觉得她就在我们家里，就仿佛那是她的房子而不是我的一样。我把家里的色彩搭配改了，也全都重新装修过了，但还是没有用！我感到她一直阴魂不散似的在那里飘来荡去。我知道内维尔也很担忧，因为他觉得他对她太过分了。他就是没法忘了她——她总在那儿——让他内心深处备受责难。你们知道吧，有些人就是这样。他们看起来平淡无奇了然无趣——但就是能让别人感受到他们的存在。”
　　巴特尔若有所思地点点头。他说：
　　“好了，谢谢你，斯特兰奇太太。目前就先到这儿吧。我们不得不问了……呃……一大堆的问题。主要是因为你丈夫从特雷西利安夫人那儿继承了那么一大笔钱，得有五万英镑吧——”
　　“有那么多吗？我们是按照老马修爵士的遗嘱继承的，对吗？”
　　“你全都知道了？”
　　“哦，是啊。他遗嘱上说，财产在特雷西利安夫人死后分给内维尔和内维尔的太太。倒不是说那个老家伙死了我高兴。我并不高兴。我不怎么喜欢她——或许是因为她不喜欢我吧。不过一想到有贼溜进来把她的脑袋砸开了花，还是太恐怖了。”
　　说完她走了出去。巴特尔看着利奇。
　　“对她你有什么看法？我想说她是个漂亮货色。男人很容易就会被她迷得神魂颠倒的。”
　　利奇表示同意。
　　“但在我看来，她可算不上是个淑女，”他迟疑地说道。
　　“眼下她们都算不上了，”巴特尔说，“我们要不要见见女一号？算了，我想我们接下来还是叫奥尔丁小姐进来，了解一下旁观者是怎么看待这桩婚事的吧。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁从容镇定地走进屋来，落了座。在平静的外表之下，她的眼神透出了一丝焦虑。
　　对于利奇的问题她回答得足够清晰，证实了内维尔关于昨晚的陈述。她上床去睡觉的时候大约是十点钟。
　　“那时斯特兰奇先生是跟特雷西利安夫人在一起吗？”
　　“是的，我能听见他们说话的声音。”
　　“说话，还是吵架，奥尔丁小姐？”
　　她的脸一阵泛红，但还是平静地回答道：
　　“要知道，特雷西利安夫人喜欢讨论问题。她说的话听起来常常让人感到尖酸刻薄，但她其实真不是那样的人。此外，她有点儿盛气凌人、独断专行的倾向——这一点对于男人来说接受起来不像女人那么容易。”
　　“或许是不像你那么容易吧。”巴特尔心想。
　　他看着她那张聪慧的脸。最终还是她打破了沉默。
　　“我不想犯傻——不过在我看来这件事真的难以置信——你们会怀疑这栋房子里的某个人，这太难以置信了。为什么不会是外人干的呢？”
　　“有几个原因，奥尔丁小姐。首先，家里什么东西都没丢，门窗也没有被强行打开过的迹象。我用不着提醒你这幢房子以及周围庭院的地理位置，不过你要牢记于心。西面是直插海底的悬崖峭壁，往南有几个露台，外有围墙，下面就是大海，在东面，花园的斜坡向下倾斜几乎延伸到海岸边，但四周却有一道高墙围着。仅有的两条出去的路，其一是一道小门，能通到马路上，今天早上这道门是从里面闩上的，和平时一样；其二就是这栋房子的大门，直接冲着马路开。我并不是说没人能翻墙而入，也不是说他们不能拿着一把备用钥匙或者万能钥匙打开前门进来——但是我得说，在我看来没有人这么干。无论是谁犯下了这桩罪行，这个人都知道芭雷特每晚要喝番泻叶，而且还在里面下了药——这也就意味着是这栋房子里的某个人。铁头球杆是从楼梯下的储物间里拿来的。这可不是外人干的啊，奥尔丁小姐。”
　　“不是内维尔！我确信不是内维尔干的！”
　　“你为什么如此确信？”
　　她绝望地举起了双手。
　　“就是因为那不像他——这就是为什么！他不会杀死一个躺在床上手无寸铁的老太太——内维尔不会的！”
　　“似乎是不大可能，”巴特尔通情达理地说道，“不过人们要是有个足够好的理由，那么他们干的事情会让你大吃一惊。斯特兰奇先生也许急需用钱呢。”
　　“我确信他不需要。他不是个挥霍无度的人——从来都不是。”
　　“没错，但他太太是啊。”
　　“凯？是啊，或许吧——但这也太荒唐了。我肯定内维尔近来要头疼的事情还轮不到钱呢。”
　　巴特尔警司咳嗽了一声。
　　“照我理解，他现在有其他的烦心事？”
　　“我猜凯告诉你了吧？是啊，那件事还真是挺棘手的。不过那也跟这桩可怕的案子丝毫无关。”
　　“或许没什么关系，但尽管如此，我还是愿意听听你对于那件私事的看法，奥尔丁小姐。”
　　玛丽慢吞吞地说道：“呃，就像我所说的，那件事造成了一种——困局。不管最开始是谁出的主意——”
　　他驾轻就熟地打断了她的话。
　　“据我所知那是内维尔•斯特兰奇先生的主意？”
　　“他说是。”
　　“但你本人不这么认为？”
　　“我……对……不知道为什么，我觉得这不像是内维尔的主意。自始至终我都有种感觉，觉得是其他什么人让他产生了这种想法。”
　　“也许是奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太？”
　　“要说奥德丽能干出这种事来似乎太不可思议了。”
　　“那还可能是谁呢？”
　　玛丽无可奈何地耸了耸肩。
　　“我也不知道。只是这件事太……蹊跷了。”
　　“蹊跷，”巴特尔若有所思地说，“那正是我对这件案子的感觉。很蹊跷。”
　　“每件事都很蹊跷。我有一种感觉——没法用语言描述。空气中弥漫着某种东西，危机四伏。”
　　“每个人都紧张不安，心烦意乱？”
　　“是的，就是那样……我们都备受折磨。就连拉蒂默先生都——”她住了口。
　　“我也正想到拉蒂默先生。关于拉蒂默先生，奥尔丁小姐，你能告诉我些什么呢？拉蒂默先生究竟是什么人？”
　　“唔，说真的，我对他了解得也不多。他是凯的一个朋友。”
　　“他是斯特兰奇太太的朋友。彼此认识已经很久了吧？”
　　“是的，她在结婚以前就认识他了。”
　　“斯特兰奇先生喜欢他吗？”
　　“我相信他还挺喜欢他的。”
　　“他们之间就没有什么——麻烦吗？”
　　巴特尔委婉地提出了这个问题。玛丽立即断然地回答道：“当然没有了！”
　　“那特雷西利安夫人喜欢拉蒂默先生吗？”
　　“不太喜欢。”
　　她冷淡的语气让巴特尔产生了一丝警惕，于是他转换了话题。
　　“嗯，那个女仆，简•芭雷特，她跟着特雷西利安夫人很长时间了吧？你觉得她可靠吗？”
　　“噢，绝对可靠。她对特雷西利安夫人可谓是全心全意。”
　　巴特尔向后靠回他的椅子里。
　　“事实上，你根本不会考虑这种可能性，那就是芭雷特先打了特雷西利安夫人的头，然后再给自己下药以便避开嫌疑吧？”
　　“当然不会。她到底为什么要这么干呢？”
　　“你也知道，她会得到一份遗产。”
　　“我也有份。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。
　　她冷静地看着他。
　　“没错，”巴特尔说，“你也有份。你知道有多少钱吗？”
　　“特里劳尼先生刚刚到。他告诉我了。”
　　“你之前并不知情？”
　　“不知道。特雷西利安夫人偶尔会漏些口风，所以我心里当然也会设想她要留给我些东西。你也知道，我自己的东西少得可怜。如果不找份工作做的话，连维持生活都不够。我想特雷西利安夫人会留给我每年至少一百英镑——但她还有些表亲，我完全不知道她打算怎么分配属于她的那些财产。当然了，我知道马修爵士的遗产是给内维尔和奥德丽的。”
　　“这么说，她并不知道特雷西利安夫人要留给她什么了，”玛丽•奥尔丁被打发走以后利奇说道，“至少她是这么说的。”
　　“嗯，她是这么说的，”巴特尔赞同道，“那现在该轮到蓝胡子的第一任太太了。”
A Fine Italian Hand（10）
　　X
　　Mary Aldin was restless. She went in and out of the house, picked off a dead dahlia head here and there, went back into the drawing-room and shifted flower vases in an unmeaning fashion.
　　From the library came a vague murmur of voices. Mr. Trelawny was in there with Nevile. Kay and Audrey were nowhere to be seen.
　　Mary went out in the garden again. Down by the wall she spied Thomas Royde placidly smoking. She went and joined him.
　　"Oh, dear." She sat down beside him with a deep, perplexed sigh.
　　"Anything the matter?" Thomas asked.
　　Mary laughed with a slight note of hysteria in the laugh.
　　"Nobody but you would say a thing like that. A murder in the house and you just say, 'Is anything the matter?'"Looking a little surprised, Thomas said: "I meant anything fresh?""Oh, I know what you meant. It's really a wonderful relief to find anyone so gloriously just-the-same-as-usual as you are!""Not much good, is it, getting all het up over things?" 188"No, no. You're eminently sensible. It's how you manage to do it beats me." "Well, I suppose I'm an outsider.""That's true, of course. You can't fed the relief all the rest of .us do that Nevile is cleared.""I'm very pleased he is, of course," said Royde. Mary shuddered.
　　"It was a very near thing. If Camilla hadn't taken it into her head to ring the bell for Barrett after Nevile had left her -""Then old Nevile would have been for it, all right."He spoke with a certain grim satisfaction, then shook his head with a slight smile, as he met Mary's reproachful gaze.
　　"I'm not really heartless, but now that Nevile's all right I can't help being pleased he had a bit of a shaking up. He's always so damned complacent.""He isn't really, Thomas.""Perhaps not. It's just his manner. Anyway, he was looking scared as Hell this morning!""What a cruel streak you have!""Anyway, it's all right now. You know, Mary, even here Nevile has had the devil's own luck. Some other poor beggar with all that evidence piled up against him mightn't have had such a break."Mary shivered again. "Don't say that. I like to think the innocent are -protected.""Do you, my dear?" His voice was gentle.
　　Mary burst out suddenly: "Thomas, I'm worried. I'm frightfully worried.""Yes.""It's about Mr. Treves."
　　Thomas dropped his pipe on the stones. His voice changed as he bent to pick it up.
　　"What about Mr. Treves?"
　　"That night he was here - that story he told - about a little murderer! I've been wondering, Thomas ... Was it just a story? Or did he tell it with a purpose?""You mean," said Royde deliberately, "was it aimed at someone who was in the room?"Mary whispered, "Yes."Thomas said quietly: "I've been wondering, too. As a matter of fact, that was what I was thinking about when you came along just now."Mary half-closed her eyes.
　　"I've been trying to remember ... He told it, you know, so very deliberately. He almost dragged it into the conversation. And he said he would recognise the person anywhere. He emphasised that. As though he had recognised him.""M'm," said Thomas. "I've been through all that.""But why should he do it? What was the point?""I suppose," said Royde, "it was a kind of warning. Not to try anything on.""You mean that Mr. Treves knew that Camilla was going to be murdered?""No - o. I think that's too fantastic. It may have been just a general warning.""What I've been wondering is, do you think we ought to tell the police?" To that Thomas again gave his thoughtful consideration.
　　"I think not," he said at last. "I don't see that it's relevant in any way. It's not as though Treves were alive and could tell them anything.""No," said Mary. "He's dead!" She gave a quick shiver. "It's so odd, Thomas, the way he died.""Heart attack. He had a bad heart.""I mean that curious business about the lift being out of order. I don't like it.""I don't like it very much myself," said Thomas Royde.
A Fine Italian Hand（9）
　　IX
　　"I've got a question for you, doctor," said Battle.
　　They were in the doctor's house after returning from the nursing home, where they had had a short interview with Jane Barrett.
　　Barrett was weak and exhausted, but quite clear in her statement.
　　She had just been getting into bed after drinking her senna when Lady Tressilian's bell had wrung. She had glanced at the dock and seen the time -twenty-five minutes past ten.
　　She had put on her dressing-gown and come down. She had heard a noise in the hall below and had looked over the balusters.
　　"It was Mr. Nevile just going out. He was taking his raincoat down from the hook.""What suit was he wearing?"
　　"His grey pinstripe. His face was very worried and unhappy-looking. He shoved his arms into his coat as though he didn't care how he put it on. Then he went out and banged the front door behind him. I went on in to Her Ladyship. She was very drowsy, poor dear, and couldn't remember why she had rung for me - she couldn't always, poor lady. But I beat up her pillows and brought her a fresh glass of water and settled her comfortably.""She didn't seem upset or afraid of anything?""Just tired, that's all. I was tired myself. Yawning. I went up and went right off to sleep."That was Barrett's story, and it seemed impossible to doubt her genuine grief and horror at the news of her mistress's death.
　　They went back to Lazenby's house, and it was then that Battle announced that he had a question to ask.
　　"Ask away," said Lazenby.
　　"What time do you think Lady Tressilian died?""I've told you. Between ten o'clock and midnight.""I know that's what you said. But it wasn't my question. I asked you what you personally thought.""Off the record, eh?"
　　"Yes."
　　"All right. My guess would be in the neighbourhood of eleven o'clock.""That's what I wanted you to say," said Battle.
　　"Glad to oblige. Why?"
　　"Never did like the idea of her being killed before ten-twenty. Take Barrett's sleeping-draught - it wouldn't have got to work by then. That sleeping-draught shows that the murder was meant to be committed a good deal later - during the night. I'd prefer midnight myself.""Could be. Eleven is only a guess."
　　"But it definitely couldn't be later than midnight?""No."
　　"It couldn't be after 2.30?"
　　"Good heavens, no."
　　"Well, that seems to let Strange out all right. I'll just have to check up on his movements after he left the house. If he's telling the truth he's washed out and we can go on to our other suspects.""The other people who inherit money?" suggested Leach.
　　"Maybe," said Battle. "But, somehow, I don't think so. Someone with a kink, I'm looking for.""A kink?"
　　"A nasty kink."
　　When they left the doctors house they went on to the ferry. The ferry consisted of a rowing boat operated by two brothers, Will and George Barnes. The Barnes brothers knew everybody in Saltcreek by sight and most of the people who came over from Easterhead Bay. George said at once that Mr. Strange from Gull's Point had gone across at 10.30 on the preceding night. No, he had not brought Mr. Strange back again. Last ferry had gone at 1.30 from the Easterhead side and Mr. Strange wasn't on it.
　　Battle asked him if he knew Mr. Latimer.
　　"Latimer? Latimer? Tall, handsome young gentleman? Comes over from the hotel up to Gull's Point? Yes, I know him. Didn't see him at all last night, though. He's been over this morning. Went back last trip."They crossed on the ferry and went up to the Easterhead Bay Hotel.
　　Here they found Mr. Latimer newly returned from the other side. He had crossed on the ferry before theirs.
　　Mr. Latimer was very anxious to do all he could to help.
　　"Yes, old Nevile came over last night. Looked very blue over something. Told me he'd had a row with the old lady. I hear he'd fallen out with Kay, too, but he didn't tell me that, of course. Anyway, he was a bit down in the mouth. Seemed quite glad of my company for once in a way.""He wasn't able to find you at once, I understand?"Latimer said sharply: "Don't know why. I was sitting in the lounge. Strange said he looked in and didn't see me, but he wasn't in a state to concentrate. Or I may have strolled out into the gardens for five minutes or so. Always get out when I can. Beastly smell in this hotel. Noticed it last night in the bar. Drains, I think! Strange mentioned it, too! We both smelt it. Nasty decayed smell. Might be a dead rat under the billiard-room floor.""You played billiards, and after your game?""Oh, we talked a bit, had another drink or two. Then Nevile said, 'Hullo, I've missed the ferry,’ so I said I'd get out my car and drive him back, which I did. We got there about 2.30.""And Mr. Strange was with you all the evening?""Oh, yes. Ask anybody. They'll tell you.""Thank you, Mr. Latimer. We have to be so careful."Leach said as they left the smiling, self-possessed young man: "What's the idea of checking up so carefully on Nevile Strange?"Battle smiled. Leach got it suddenly.
　　"Good Lord, it's the other one you're checking up on. So that's your idea.""It's too soon to have ideas," said Battle. "I've just got to know exactly where Mr. Ted Latimer was last night. We know that from quarter-past eleven, say - to after midnight - he was with Nevile Strange. But where was he before that -when Strange arrived and couldn't find him?"They pursued their inquiries doggedly - with bar attendants, waiters, lift boys. Latimer had been seen in the lounge between nine and ten. He had been in the bar at a quarter-past ten. But between that time and eleven-twenty he seemed to have been singularly elusive. Then one of the maids was found who declared that Mr. Latimer had been in one of the small writing rooms with Mrs. Beddoes -that's the fat North Country lady.""That tears it," said Battle gloomily. "He was here, all right. Just didn't want attention drawn to his fat (and no doubt rich) lady friend. That throws us back on those others - the servants, Kay Strange, Audrey Strange, Mary Aldin and Thomas Royde. One of them killed the old lady, but which? If we could find the real weapon -"He stopped, then slapped his thigh.
　　"Got it, Jim, my boy! I know now what made me think of Hercule Poirot. We'll have a spot of lunch and go back to Gull's Point and I'll show you something."
精明的幕后黑手（7）
　　7
　　奥德丽穿着一身浅灰色的法兰绒外套和裙子。在衣服的衬托之下她的脸色看上去苍白得如鬼魅一般，让巴特尔不禁想起凯说过的话，“阴魂不散地在屋子里飘来荡去”。
　　她简单明了且不带一丝感情色彩地回答着他的问题。
　　是的，她十点钟就上床睡觉了，和奥尔丁小姐一样。一整夜她都没有听到任何动静。
　　“请你原谅我要过问一下你的私人问题，”巴特尔说，“不过能解释一下你怎么会在这栋房子里吗？”
　　“我一向是在这个时间段来这里住的。今年，我的……我的前夫也想在这段时间来，他还问我是否会介意。”
　　“是他提议的？”
　　“噢，是的。”
　　“不是你？”
　　“不是。”
　　“但你同意了？”
　　“是的，我同意了——我觉得我……没办法拒绝。”“为什么呢，斯特兰奇太太？”
　　但她的回答含糊其辞。
　　“人都不喜欢太薄情寡义。”
　　“你不是受伤害的一方吗？”
　　“你说什么？”
　　“不是你要跟你丈夫离婚的吗？”“是的。”
　　“那你……恕我直言——对他心存怨恨吗？”
　　“不——一点儿都没有。”
　　“你的秉性真是宽宏大量啊，斯特兰奇太太。”
　　她没有回应。他又试着沉默下来——但奥德丽不是凯，这种方法并不能促使她打开话匣子。她能够就那样保持沉默，显不出一丁点儿不自在。巴特尔承认自己败下阵来了。
　　“你确定那不是你的主意吗——我是指这次会面？”
　　“无比确定。”
　　“你跟现任的斯特兰奇太太关系很友好吗？”
　　“我觉得她不太喜欢我。”
　　“你喜欢她吗？”
　　“喜欢啊。我觉得她长得很漂亮。”
　　“嗯，谢谢你。我想要问的就这些了。”
　　她站起身来向门口走去。接着她犹豫了一下，又走了回来。
　　“我只是想说——”她不安而急速地说道，“你认为是内维尔干的——他为了钱的缘故杀了她。我万分确信不是这样的。内维尔从来都不那么在乎钱。我清楚这一点。你知道，我们两人结婚八年。我就是想象不出来他会为了钱去杀人——这个……这个……不会是内维尔做的事情。我也知道这么说作为证据来讲毫无价值，但我真心希望你能相信我。”
　　说完她转过身，匆匆离开了房间。
　　“对她你怎么看，”利奇问道，“我还从来没见过谁能这么……这么心如止水的呢。”
　　“她只是没表现出来，”巴特尔说，“但是她有情感。某种极其强烈的情感。而我也不知道那究竟是什么……”
精明的幕后黑手（8）
　　8
　　最后进来的是托马斯•罗伊德。他坐在那儿，表情严肃而拘谨，眼睛偶尔眨一下，就像一只猫头鹰一样。
　　他从马来亚回家来——八年来还是头一遭。他还是个孩子的时候就已经习惯于待在海鸥角了。奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太是他的远房表妹——从九岁起由他的家人抚养长大。前一晚他上床睡觉的时候不到十一点。是的，他听见了内维尔•斯特兰奇离开屋子但并没有看见他。内维尔离开的时间大约是十点二十，或许再稍微晚一些。他自己整夜都没有听到什么声音。特雷西利安夫人的尸体被发现的时候他已经起床在花园里了。他是个早起的人。
　　一阵短暂的停顿。
　　“奥尔丁小姐告诉我们说，家里处于一种紧张的状态之中。你也注意到这一点了吗？”
　　“我没觉得。没太注意这些事。”
　　“说谎，”巴特尔心想，“我敢担保你注意到的可多了——比大多数人注意到的还多。”
　　不，他不认为内维尔•斯特兰奇在任何方面缺钱。他看起来当然不像是缺钱的样子。不过他对于斯特兰奇先生的私事知之甚少。
　　“你对于第二任斯特兰奇太太了解得多吗？”
　　“我来这儿之后才第一次遇见她。”
　　巴特尔打出了最后一张牌。
　　“罗伊德先生，你也许已经知道了，我们在凶器上发现了内维尔•斯特兰奇先生的指纹。而且我们还在他昨晚穿的外衣袖子上发现了血迹。”
　　他停顿了一下。罗伊德点点头。
　　“他告诉我们了。”他咕哝道。
　　“我坦率地问你吧：你觉得是他干的吗？”
　　托马斯•罗伊德向来都不喜欢被人催促。他等了足有一分钟，那是相当长的一段时间，然后才回答道：
　　“我不明白你为什么要问我！这与我无关。是你们的事儿。要我说的话——非常不可能。”
　　“在你看来谁更有可能呢？”
　　托马斯摇摇头。
　　“我唯一想到有可能的人，实际上也不可能干这件事。所以就是这样了。”
　　“你想到的是谁？”
　　可罗伊德更坚决地摇了摇头。
　　“我不可能说出来。那只是我个人的想法。”
　　“协助警方是你的义务。”
　　“我会告诉你们一切事实。但这不是事实，只是一种想法。而且无论如何那也是不可能的。”
　　“我们从他那儿没掏出什么来。”罗伊德走后利奇说道。
　　巴特尔表示同意。
　　“是啊，我们没掏出什么。他自己心里有些想法——非常明确的想法。我想知道那究竟是什么。吉姆，我的孩子，这是一桩非比寻常的犯罪——”
　　还没等利奇答话，电话铃就响了。他拿起听筒来接电话。听了一两分钟之后他说了句“很好”，然后就砰的一声挂上了听筒。
　　“衣袖上的血迹是人的，”他宣布道。“和特雷西利安夫人的血型相同。这下子看起来内维尔•斯特兰奇是跑不了了——”
　　巴特尔已经走到窗边，正怀着相当大的兴趣看着外面。
　　“外边有个漂亮的小伙子，”他说，“相当漂亮，而且我想他绝对不是个省油的灯。真可惜拉蒂默先生他——因为我觉得那就是拉蒂默先生——他昨晚在复活节海湾。他是那种会把亲奶奶的脑袋打烂的人，只要他觉得能够脱身，并且还能从中得到好处的话。”
　　“嗯，这件案子里可没他什么份儿，”利奇说道，“无论从哪个方面看特雷西利安夫人的死对他都没什么好处。”电话铃声再次响起。“这该死的电话，这回又是什么事儿啊？”
　　他走过去接听。
　　“喂。哦，是你啊，医生。什么？她醒过来了，是吗？什么？什么？”
　　他转过头来，说：“舅舅，你来接一下吧。”
　　巴特尔走过来接起电话，一如既往面无表情地听着。然后他对利奇说：
　　“吉姆，把内维尔•斯特兰奇找来。”
　　当内维尔走进来的时候，巴特尔刚好把话筒挂回原处。
　　内维尔看上去脸色苍白，疲惫不堪，他好奇地瞅着这位苏格兰场的警司，努力想要读懂那张木头面具一样的脸后面隐藏的心思。
　　“斯特兰奇先生，”巴特尔说，“你知道有谁非常讨厌你吗？”
　　内维尔瞪大了眼睛，摇了摇头。
　　“你确定？”巴特尔又追问了一句，“先生，我的意思是，你知道有谁都不仅仅是讨厌你——这个人——坦率地讲——是对你恨之入骨吗？”
　　内维尔坐得笔直。
　　“不。没有，当然没有。没有这种人。”
　　“想一想，斯特兰奇先生。你就从没有以任何方式伤害过别人吗——”
　　内维尔的脸红了。
　　“如果非要说的话，只有一个人是被我伤害过的，而她并不是那种会怀恨在心的人。那就是我的前妻，在我为了另一个女人而抛弃她的时候。但我可以跟你保证，她并不恨我。
　　她……她简直就是个天使。”
　　警司俯身向前，越过桌子。
　　“我来告诉你吧，斯特兰奇先生；你是个非常走运的家伙。我不是说我喜欢这个对你不利的案子——我不喜欢。但再怎么说这都是桩案子！这案子本来已经铁证如山了，除非陪审团碰巧对你的人品青睐有加，否则你就得被绞死。”
　　“照你这么说，”内维尔说，“就好像这一切都过去了似的，对吗？”
　　“是过去了，”巴特尔说，“你已经得救了，斯特兰奇先生，纯粹靠运气。”
　　内维尔仍然用探询的眼光看着他。
　　“昨晚，就在你离开她之后，”巴特尔说，“特雷西利安夫人拉铃找了她的女仆。”
　　他看着内维尔在咀嚼这句话的含义。
　　“之后。那芭雷特看见她了——？”
　　“没错，看见了。活着而且好好的。芭雷特还看见你离开了屋子，就在她走进女主人房间之前。”
　　内维尔说：
　　“但那根球杆——还有我的指纹——”
　　“她不是被那根铁头球杆打死的。当时拉曾比医生就不觉得球杆是凶器，这个我能看出来。她是被其他什么东西杀死的。那根铁头球杆是有意放在那里用来嫁祸于你的。也许是某个人偷听到了你们之间的争吵，于是就顺理成章地选你当了替罪羊，或者也可能是因为——”
　　他停顿了一下，接着重复了他的问题：
　　“这栋房子里究竟有谁那么恨你，斯特兰奇先生？”
A Fine Italian Hand（12）
　　XII
　　Crossing the hall. Superintendent Battle was waylaid by Mary Aldin.
　　"Can I speak to you a minute. Superintendent?""Certainly, Miss Aldin. Shall we come in here?"He threw open the dining-room door. Lunch had been cleared away by Hurstall.
　　"I want to ask you something, Superintendent. Surely you don't, you can't still think that this - this awful crime was done by one of us? It must have been someone from outside! Some maniac!""You may not be far wrong there. Miss Aldin. Maniac is a word that describes this criminal very well, if I'm not mistaken. But not an outsider."Her eyes opened very wide.
　　"Do you mean that someone in this house is - is mad?""You're thinking," said the Superintendent, "of someone foaming at the mouth and rolling their eyes. Mania isn't like that. Some of the most dangerous criminal lunatics have looked as sane as you or I. It's a question, usually, of having an obsession. One idea, preying on the mind, gradually distorting it. Pathetic, reasonable people who come up to you and explain how they're being persecuted and how everyone is spying on them - and you sometimes feel it must all be true.""I'm sure nobody here has any idea of being persecuted.""I only gave that as an instance. There are other forms of insanity. But I believe whoever committed this crime was under the domination of one fixed idea - an idea on which they had brooded until literally nothing else mattered or had any importance."Mary shivered. She said: "There's something I think you ought to know."Concisely and clearly she told him of Mr. Treves' visit to dinner and of the story he had told. Superintendent Battle was deeply interested.
　　"He said he could recognise this person? Man or woman - by the way?""I took it that it was a boy the story was about - but it's true, Mr. Treves didn't actually say so - in fact, I remember now - he distinctly stated he would not give any particulars as to sex or age.""Did he? Rather significant, perhaps. And he said there was a definite physical peculiarity by which he could be sure of knowing this child anywhere?""Yes."
　　"A scar, perhaps - has anybody here got a scar?"He noticed the faint hesitation before Mary Aldin replied: "Not that I have noticed.""Come now. Miss Aldin," he smiled. "You have noticed something. If so, don't you think that I shall be able to notice it, too?"She shook her head.
　　"I -I haven't noticed anything of the kind."But he saw that she was startled and upset. His words had obviously suggested a very unpleasant train of thought to her. He wished he knew just what it was, but his experience made him aware that to press her at this minute would not yield any result.
　　He brought the conversation back to old Mr. Treves. Mary told him of the tragic sequel to the evening.
　　Battle questioned her at some length. Then he said quietly: "That's a new one on me. Never come across that before.""What do you mean?"
　　"I've never come across a murder committed by the simple expedient of hanging a placard on a lift."She looked horrified. "You don't really think -""That it was murder? Of course it was! Quick, resourceful murder. It might not have come off, of course - but it did come off.""Just because Mr. Treves knew -"
　　"Yes. Because he would have been able to direct our attention to one particular person in this house. As it is, we've started in the dark. But we've got a glimmer of light now, and every minute the case is getting clearer. I'll tell you this. Miss Aldin, this murder was very carefully planned beforehand down to the smallest detail. And I want to impress one thing on your mind - don't let anybody know that you've told me what you have. That is important. Don't tell anyone, mind."Mary nodded. She was still looking dazed.
　　Superintendent Battle went out of the room and proceeded to do what he had been about to do when Mary Aldin intercepted him. He was a methodical man. He wanted certain information, and a new and promising hare did not distract him from the orderly performance of his duties, however tempting this new hare might be.
　　He tapped on the library door, and Nevile Strange's voice called "Come in."Battle was introduced to Mr. Trelawny, a tall, distinguished-looking man with a keen, dark eye.
　　"Sorry if I am butting in," said Superintendent Battle apologetically. "But there's something I haven't got clear. You, Mr. Strange, inherit half the late Sir Matthew's estate, but who inherits the other half?"Nevile looked surprised.
　　"I told you. My wife."
　　"Yes. But -" Battle coughed in a deprecating manner, "which wife, Mr. Strange?""Oh, I see. Yes, I expressed myself badly. The money goes to Audrey, who was my wife at the time the will was made. That's right, Mr. Trelawny?"The lawyer assented.
　　"The bequest is quite clearly worded. The estate is to be divided between Sir Matthew's ward, Nevile Henry Strange, and his wife, Audrey Elizabeth Strange, nee Standish. The subsequent divorce makes no difference whatever.""That's clear, then," said Battle. "I take it Mrs. Audrey Strange is fully aware of these facts?""Certainly," said Mr. Trelawny. "And the present Mrs. Strange?""Kay?" Nevile looked slightly surprised. "Oh, I suppose so. At least - I've never talked much about it with her -""I think you'll find," said Battle, "that she's under a misapprehension. She thinks that the money on Lady Tressilian's death comes to you and your present wife. At least, that's what she gave me to understand this morning. That's why I came along to find out how the position really lay.""How extraordinary!" said Nevile. "Still, I suppose it might have happened quite easily. She has said once or twice, now that I think about it, ‘We come into that money when Camilla dies,’ but I suppose I assumed that she was just associating herself with me in my share of it.""It's extraordinary," said Battle, "the amount of misunderstandings there are even between two people who discuss a thing quite often - both of them assuming different things and neither of them discovering the discrepancy.""I suppose so," said Nevile, not sounding very interested. "It doesn't matter much in this case, anyway. It's not as though we're short of money at all. I'm very glad for Audrey. She has been very hard up and this will make a big difference to her."Battle said bluntly: "But surely, sir, at the time of the divorce, she was entitled to an allowance from you?"Nevile flushed. He said in a constrained voice: "There is such a thing as - as pride. Superintendent. Audrey has always persistently refused to touch a penny of the allowance I wished to make her.""A very generous allowance," put in Mr. Trelawny. "But Mrs. Strange has always returned it and refused to accept it.""Very interesting," said Battle, and went out before anyone could ask him to elaborate that comment.
　　He went out and found his nephew.
　　"On its face value," he said, "there's a nice monetary motive for nearly everybody in this case. Nevile Strange and Audrey Strange get a cool fifty thousand each. Kay Strange thinks she's entitled to fifty thousand. Mary Aldin gets an income that frees her from having to earn her living. Thomas Royde, I'm bound to say, doesn't gain. But we can include Hurstall and even Barrett if we admit that she'd take the risk of finishing herself off to avoid suspicion. Yes, as I say, there are no lack of money motives. And yet, if I'm right, money doesn't enter into this at all. If there's such a thing as a murder for pure hate, this is it. And if no one comes along and throws a spanner into the works, I'm going to get the person who did it!"
A Fine Italian Hand（11）
　　XI
　　Superintendent Battle looked round the bedroom. The bed had been made. Otherwise the room was unchanged. It had been neat when they first looked round it. It was neat now.
　　"That's it," said Superintendent Battle, pointing to the old-fashioned steel fender. "Do you see anything odd about that fender?""Must take some cleaning," said Jim Leach. "It's well kept. Nothing odd about it that I can see, except - yes, the left-hand knob is brighter than the right-hand one.""That's what put Hercule Poirot into my head," said Battle. "You know his fad about things not being quite symmetrical - gets him all worked up. I suppose I thought unconsciously, ‘That would worry old Poirot,' and then I began talking about him. Get your fingerprint kit, Jones, we'll have a look at those two knobs."Jones reported presently. "There are prints on the right-hand knob, sir, none on the left.""It's the left one we want, then. Those other prints are the housemaid's when she last cleaned it. The left-hand one has been cleaned since.""There was a bit of screwed-up emery paper in this waste-paper basket," volunteered Jones. "I didn't think it meant anything.""Because you didn't know what you were looking for, then. Gently now, I'll bet anything you like that knob unscrews - yes, I thought so."Presently Jones held the knob up.
　　"It's a good weight," he said, weighing it in his hands.
　　Leach, bending over it, said: "There's something dark - on the screw.""Blood, as likely as not," said Battle. "Cleaned the knob itself and wiped it and that little stain on the screw wasn't noticed. I'll bet anything you like that's the weapon that caved the old lady's skull in. But there's more to find. It's up to you, Jones, to search the house again. This time, you'll know exactly what you're looking for."He gave a few swift detailed instructions. Going to the window he put his head out.
　　"There's something yellow tucked into the ivy. That may be another piece of the puzzle. I rather think it is."
精明的幕后黑手（9）
　　9
　　“我有个问题想请教，医生。”巴特尔说。
　　他们现在在医生家里，之前刚刚从护理院回来。在那里，他们对简•芭雷特进行了一次短暂的讯问。
　　芭雷特身体虚弱，疲惫不堪，不过她的陈述却是一清二楚。
　　特雷西利安夫人的铃响的时候，她刚好喝完她的番泻叶正要上床。她当时看了一眼钟上的时间——十点二十五分。
　　披上睡袍下楼时，听到下面的大厅里有动静，于是她越过楼梯扶手瞅了一眼。
　　“是内维尔先生准备出门。他正从挂衣钩上拿他的雨衣。”
　　“他身上穿着什么衣服？”
　　“他那身灰色细条纹的衣服。他脸上愁云密布，看上去闷闷不乐。他胡乱地把胳膊捅到雨衣袖子里，似乎并不在乎要穿成什么样儿。然后他就走了出去，砰的一声把门撞上了。
　　我随后就进了老夫人的房间。可怜的老太太，她看起来昏昏欲睡，而且记不得她拉铃叫我要干什么了——她总是记不得，可怜的老夫人。我给她拍了拍枕头，又给她倒了杯水，把她安顿得舒舒服服的。”
　　“她没有看上去心烦意乱或者对什么事情担惊受怕吧？”
　　“只是累了而已。我自己也觉得很累，不停地打哈欠，等上楼以后很快就睡着了。”
　　这就是芭雷特的叙述，而且在得知女主人死讯之后她表现出的那种由衷的悲哀与震惊似乎也让人无法怀疑。
　　他们回到了拉曾比的家，随后巴特尔就郑重宣布有个问题要问医生。
　　“问吧。”拉曾比说。
　　“你认为特雷西利安夫人是什么时候死的？”
　　“我告诉过你了。在十点到午夜之间。”
　　“我知道你是这么说的。不过这不是我问题的本意。我问的是你个人怎么认为？”
　　“私下说的，对吗？”
　　“没错。”
　　“好吧。让我猜的话应该在十一点左右。”
　　“这才是我想让你说的。”巴特尔说道。
　　“乐意效劳。为什么？”
　　“她是在十点二十之前被杀死的这种说法我一直都不同意。想想芭雷特吃下的安眠药吧——在那个时候应该还没起效呢。安眠药表明，这桩谋杀本来就是计划要在晚得多的时候实施的——也就是在夜里。我自己倾向于是在午夜时分。”
　　“有可能。十一点也只是一种猜测。”
　　“但是肯定不会晚于午夜了吧？”
　　“不会。”
　　“不可能是在两点半之后吧？”
　　“老天爷啊，不可能的。”
　　“嗯，那看起来斯特兰奇就平安脱罪了。我只是必须再调查一下他离开那栋屋子之后的行踪。如果他说了实话，那他就可以洗脱罪名，而我们也可以继续调查其他嫌疑人了。”
　　“其他那些继承了钱的人？”利奇提议道。
　　“或许吧，”巴特尔说，“不过不知道为什么，我并不这么想。我正在找的是个有怪癖的人。”
　　“怪癖？”
　　“一种令人不齿的怪癖。”
　　他们离开医生家以后去了渡口。渡口有一艘划艇，是由威尔和乔治•巴恩斯兄弟操控的。巴恩斯兄弟熟知盐溪这里的每个人以及从复活节海湾过来的大多数人的面孔。乔治不假思索就说出海鸥角的斯特兰奇先生是在前一天晚上十点半坐船到对岸的。不，他并没有再把斯特兰奇先生带回来。从复活节海岬那边发出的最后一班渡船是在一点半钟，而斯特兰奇先生并不在上面。
　　巴特尔问他是否认识拉蒂默先生。
　　“拉蒂默？拉蒂默？那个高大英俊的年轻绅士吗？从酒店到那边海鸥角去的那位？没错，我认得他。不过昨晚压根儿没看见他。他今天早上过来过，又坐上一班渡船回去了。”
　　他们乘上渡船，到了对岸的复活节海湾酒店。
　　在这里，他们找到了也是刚刚从对岸回来的拉蒂默先生。他是坐他们之前的那一班渡船回来的。
　　拉蒂默先生迫不及待地想要尽他所能提供协助。
　　“是的，内维尔那个老家伙昨晚来过。一副好像对什么事情很沮丧的模样。他告诉我他和老太太吵了一架。我听说他跟凯也闹别扭了，不过当然啦，这可不是他告诉我的。不管怎么说，他显得有点儿垂头丧气。有我陪着，他看上去破天荒地还挺高兴。”
　　“据我了解，他没能立刻找到你吧？”
　　拉蒂默连忙大声说道：
　　“我也不知道怎么回事。我就坐在休息厅里。斯特兰奇说他往里看了，可并没瞅见我，不过他当时的精力也不怎么集中。或许有可能是赶上我去花园里溜达了五分钟左右的缘故吧。我总是一有机会就出去溜达溜达。这家酒店里的气味太难闻。昨晚我在酒吧里就注意到了。下水道的问题，我觉得是！斯特兰奇也说起了这个！我们俩都闻到了。一股难闻的腐臭味儿。也有可能是台球室的地板下面有只死老鼠。”
　　“你们打了台球，在那之后呢？”
　　“哦，我们聊了会儿，又喝了一两杯。然后内维尔说：‘啊，我错过渡船了。’于是我说我会把车开出来送他回去，我也正是这么做的。我们到那儿的时候大约是两点半。”
　　“那斯特兰奇先生整晚都和你在一起吗？”
　　“噢，是啊。你随便问任何人。他们都能告诉你。”
　　“谢谢你，拉蒂默先生。我们不得不如此周密地查证。”
　　当他们离开这个满面笑容、泰然自若的小伙子之后，利奇说道：“我们干吗要这么仔细地调查内维尔•斯特兰奇？”
　　巴特尔微微一笑。利奇恍然大悟。
　　“好家伙，你正在调查的实际上是另一个人。这才是你的打算。”
　　“说这些还为时尚早，”巴特尔说，“我目前只是确切地知道特德•拉蒂默先生昨晚在哪儿。这么说吧，我们知道从十一点一刻起——到午夜之后——他和内维尔•斯特兰奇在一起。但在那之前——也就是斯特兰奇到达这里却找不到他的时候，他又在哪儿呢？”
　　两人继续不屈不挠地进行调查——对象包括酒吧服务员、侍者，还有电梯工。有人看见拉蒂默九点到十点之间在休息厅里。十点一刻的时候他在酒吧间。不过在那之后到十一点二十之间，他似乎很奇怪地销声匿迹了。紧接着就有个侍女声称拉蒂默先生“待在一间小写字间里，和贝多斯太太——也就是那个从北方来的胖胖的女士在一起。”
　　再追问她具体时间，她说她觉得大概是在十一点钟左右。
　　“这下完蛋了，”巴特尔沮丧地说道，“他在这里确定无疑。他只是不想让人注意到他那个胖胖的（而且毫无疑问很有钱的）女士朋友而已。这就迫使我们再回过头来看看其他那些人——仆人们，凯•斯特兰奇、奥德丽•斯特兰奇、玛丽•奥尔丁以及托马斯•罗伊德。他们其中之一杀害了老太太，但究竟是哪一个呢？假如我们能找到真正的凶器的话——”
　　他忽然停下来，然后猛拍了一下自己的大腿。
　　“知道了，吉姆，我的孩子！我现在明白是什么让我想起赫尔克里•波洛来了。我们吃口午饭，然后回海鸥角去，我要给你看点儿东西。”
精明的幕后黑手（10）
　　10
　　玛丽•奥尔丁有点儿坐立不安。她在屋里屋外进进出出，把散在各处的死掉的大丽花叶球一一摘掉，然后回到客厅，毫无意义地改换着花瓶摆放的位置。
　　从书房里隐隐约约传出一阵低语声。特里劳尼先生和内维尔在那里。凯和奥德丽则踪迹皆无。
　　玛丽又走出去来到花园里。她看见托马斯•罗伊德正倚在墙根下平静地抽着烟。她向他走了过去。
　　“哦，天哪。”她在他旁边坐下，困惑不已地长叹一声。
　　“有什么要紧的吗？”托马斯问道。
　　玛丽笑了起来，笑声中带着一丝歇斯底里。
　　“除了你之外谁也不会这么说了。这屋子里发生了一桩谋杀，而你还说‘有什么要紧的吗？’”
　　托马斯看上去有些吃惊地说道：
　　“我是问有什么新情况吗？”
　　“噢，我懂你的意思。要是别人也都像你这样悠然自得、若无其事的话，那可真是种莫大的解脱啊！”
　　“对什么事儿都那么心急火燎的也没多大用啊，对吗？”
　　“没错，没错。你是个非常理智的人。我真搞不懂你是怎么做到这一点的。”
　　“呃，我想因为我是个外人吧。”
　　“当然，这倒是实话。你没法体会到内维尔洗脱嫌疑时我们其他所有人那种如释重负的感觉。”
　　“当然了，我也很高兴他清白了。”罗伊德说。
　　玛丽打了个冷战。
　　“这事儿实在太悬了。如果内维尔从她那儿离开以后，卡米拉没有心血来潮地拉铃叫芭雷特的话--”
　　她没再往下说。托马斯替她补上了后半句。
　　“那内维尔老兄可就在劫难逃了。”
　　他话里带着某种冷酷的满足感，而当他遇上玛丽责备的目光时，他淡然一笑，摇了摇头。
　　“我真没那么没心没肺，不过现在内维尔已经没事儿了，想到他也受过一点点惊吓，我情不自禁就觉得高兴。他平时总是一副那么自命不凡的样子。”
　　“他真不是这样的，托马斯。”
　　“也许不是吧。只是说他那种做派。不管怎么样，今天早上他看起来也吓得要死了！”
　　“你可真够残忍的！”
　　“无论如何，现在都没事儿了。知道吗，玛丽，就连在这件事上内维尔都够福大命大的。要是其他哪个可怜虫碰上这么一大堆对他不利的证据，恐怕就没有这种好运了。”
　　玛丽又哆嗦了一下，说道：“别这么说。我希望无辜的人都能……受到保护。”
　　“你这么想吗，亲爱的？”他的声音很温和。
　　玛丽突然大声说道：
　　“托马斯，我很担心。我担心得要命。”
　　“怎么了？”
　　“是有关特里夫斯先生的事。”
　　托马斯的烟斗掉到了石头上。他弯腰去捡的时候声音有些变化。
　　“关于特里夫斯先生的什么事？”
　　“那天晚上他在这儿--他讲的那个故事--关于一个小谋杀犯的！我一直都在纳闷儿，托马斯……这仅仅是个故事吗？还是说他是怀着某种目的才讲的呢？”
　　“你的意思是，”罗伊德不慌不忙地说道，“他是针对屋子里某个人讲的？”
　　玛丽低声说：“是啊。”
　　托马斯平静地说道：
　　“我也觉得纳闷儿呢。实际上你刚才过来的时候我正在想的就是这件事。”
　　玛丽半闭上眼睛。
　　“我刚刚还一直在努力回想……你知道，他那个故事讲得是那么处心积虑，几乎就是在谈话当中生拉硬拽进来的。而且他说他无论走到哪儿都能认出那个人。他强调了这一点，就好像他当时已经认出他来了一样。”
　　“嗯，”托马斯说，“所有这些事情我都从头到尾想过了。”
　　“但他为什么要这么做呢？用意何在啊？”
　　“我猜，”罗伊德说道，“这是一种警告。让那个人别想耍任何花招。”
　　“你是说特里夫斯先生那个时候就知道卡米拉要被人谋杀了？”
　　“嗯--不是。我觉得那有点儿太不切实际了。这可能只是一种泛泛的警告吧。”
　　“我刚才一直想弄明白的是，你觉得我们应该把这件事告诉警察吗？”
　　对于这个问题，托马斯又进行了一番深思熟虑。
　　“我想不用，”最终他说道，“我不觉得这件事和谋杀案有任何关系。这可跟特里夫斯先生还活着，并且什么都能告诉他们是两码事。”
　　“是不一样，”玛丽说，“他已经死了！”她突然一激灵，“这事儿太古怪了，托马斯，我是说他死的那种方式。”
　　“心脏病发作。他的心脏状况很糟糕。”
　　“我是说电梯故障那件事太奇怪了。我觉得不对劲。”“我也觉得不太对劲。”托马斯•罗伊德说。
A Fine Italian Hand（14）
　　XIV
　　After dinner he strolled out of the hotel and down the road to the ferry. It was a clear night, but cold, with a sharp foretaste of winter. Summer was over.
　　MacWhirter crossed in the ferry to the Saltcreek side. It was the second time that he was revisiting Stark Head. The place had a fascination for him. He walked slowly up the hill, passing the Balmoral Court Hotel and then a big house set on the point of a cliff. Gull's Point - he read the name on the painted door. Of course, that was where the old lady had been murdered. There had been a lot of talk in the hotel about it; his chambermaid had insisted on telling him all about it, and the newspapers had given it a prominence which had annoyed MacWhirter, who preferred to read world-wide affairs and who was not interested in crime.
　　He went on downhill again to skirt a small beach and some old-fashioned fishing cottages that had been modernised. Then up again till the road ended and petered out into the track that led on up Stark Head.
　　It was grim and forbidding on Stark Head. MacWhirter stood on the cliff edge looking down to the sea. So he had stood on that other night. He tried to recapture some of the feeling he had had then - the desperation, anger, weariness - the longing to be out of it all. But there was nothing to recapture. All that had gone. There was, instead, a cold anger. Caught on that tree, rescued by coast-guards, fussed over like a naughty child in hospital, a series of indignities and affronts. Why couldn't he have been let alone? He would rather, a thousand times rather, be out of it all. He still felt that. The only thing he had lost was the necessary impetus.
　　How it had hurt him then to think of Mona! He could think of her quite calmly now. She had always been rather a fool. Easily taken in by anyone who flattered her or played up to her idea of herself. Very pretty. Yes, very pretty - but no mind; not the kind of woman he had once dreamed about.
　　But that was beauty, of course - Some vague, fancied picture of a woman flying through the night with white draperies streaming out behind her ... Something like the figure-head of a ship - only not so solid ... not nearly so solid ...
　　And then, with dramatic suddenness, the incredible happened! Out of the night came a flying figure. One minute she was not there, the next minute she was - a white figure running - running - to the cliff's edge. A figure, beautiful and desperate, driven to destruction by pursuing Furies! Running with a terrible desperation ... He knew that desperation. He knew what it meant ...
　　He came with a rush out of the shadows and caught her just as she was about to go over the edge!
　　He said fiercely: "No, you don't ..."
　　It was just like holding a bird. She struggled - struggled silently, and then, again like a bird, was suddenly still.
　　He said urgently: "Don't throw yourself over! Nothing's worth it. Nothing. Even if you are desperately unhappy -"She made a sound. It was, perhaps, a far-off ghost of a laugh.
　　He said sharply: "You're not unhappy? What is it then?"She answered him at once with the low, softly-breathed word: "Afraid.""Afraid?" He was so astonished that he let her go, standing back a pace to see her better.
　　He realised then the truth of her words. It. was fear that had lent that urgency to her footsteps. It was fear that made her small, white, intelligent face blank and stupid. Fear that dilated those wide-apart eyes.
　　He said incredulously: "What are you afraid of?"She replied so low that he hardly heard it: "I'm afraid of being hanged ..."Yes, she had said just that. He stared and stared. He looked from her to the cliff's edge.
　　"So that's why?"
　　"Yes. A quick death instead of -"
　　She closed her eyes and shivered. She went on shivering.
　　MacWhirter was piecing things together logically in his mind.
　　He said at last: "Lady Tressilian? The old lady who was murdered." Then, accusingly: "You'll be Mrs. Strange - the first Mrs. Strange."Still shivering, she nodded her head.
　　MacWhirter went on in his slow, careful voice, trying to remember all that he had heard. Rumour had been incorporated with fact.
　　"They detained your husband - that's right, isn't it? A lot of evidence against him - and then they found that the evidence had been faked by someone ..."He stopped and looked at her. She wasn't shivering any longer. She was just standing looking at him like a docile child. He found her attitude unendurably affecting.
　　His voice went on: "I see ... Yes, I see how it was ... He left you for another woman, didn't he? And you loved him ... That's why -" He broke off. He said, "I understand. My wife left me for another man ..."She flung out her arms. She began stammering wildly, hopelessly: "It's n-n-not -it's n-n-not l-like that. N-not at all -"He cut her short. His voice was stern and commanding: "Go home. You needn't be afraid any longer. D'you hear? I'll see that you're not hanged!"
精明的幕后黑手（11）
　　11
　　巴特尔警司在卧室里环顾四周。床已经整理过了。除此之外，屋内没有什么变化。他们第一次来查看的时候这里就很整洁，现在依然很整洁。
　　“就是那个，”巴特尔警司一边说，一边指着老式的钢制壁炉围栏，“你看出那个围栏有什么奇怪的地方了吗？”
　　“肯定是擦过的，”吉姆•利奇说，“保养得很好。我看不出有什么奇怪的地方，除了——啊，左边这个球形把手比右边那个亮。”
　　“就是这个让我脑子里想起了赫尔克里•波洛，”巴特尔说，“你知道他看见东西不怎么对称的时候那种瞬时的反应吗——让他浑身上下都不自在。我猜我自己不知不觉就想到了‘那个东西会让波洛老爹烦心的’，然后我就开始提起他。把你的指纹盒拿来，琼斯，我们要看看那两个把手。”
　　没一会儿工夫，琼斯就报告了检查结果。
　　“右边的把手上有指纹，长官，而左边的什么都没有。”
　　“那左边这个就是我们要找的了。另外那个上面的指纹是女仆在上一次擦拭的时候留下的。而左边这个被擦过两次。”
　　“这个废纸篓里有一块揉皱了的砂纸，”琼斯主动说道，“我觉得这没什么意义。”
　　“那是因为你不明白你正在找什么。现在轻一点儿，我敢下任何赌注赌这个球形把手是拧松了的——嗯，我一猜就是这样。”
　　很快琼斯就拧下了那个球形把手。
　　“还挺沉的。”他一边在手里掂量着一边说道。
　　利奇俯身凑过来，说道：
　　“有些黑色的东西——就在螺丝上。”
　　“有可能是血迹，”巴特尔说，“清理了把手本身，也擦过了，却没有注意到螺丝上这一点点污迹。我敢打赌这个就是打烂了老太太脑袋的凶器。不过，我们还有的可找。看你的了，琼斯，再把房子搜查一遍。这回你该很清楚你要找什么了。”
　　他迅速地给了几个详细的指点，然后走到窗边，把头探了出去。
　　“有些黄色的东西塞在常春藤里。那有可能是另一块拼图。我觉得就是。”
Zero Hour（3）
　　III
　　Andrew MacWhirter was packing.
　　He laid three shirts carefully in his suitcase, and then that dark blue suit which he had remembered to fetch from the cleaners. Two suits left by two different MacWhirters had been too much for the girl in charge.
　　There was a tap on the door and he called "Come in."Audrey Strange walked in. She said: "I've come to thank you - are you packing?""Yes. I'm leaving here to-night. And sailing the day after to-morrow.""For South America?"
　　"For Chile."
　　She said: "I'll pack for you."
　　He protested, but she overbore him. He watched her as worked deftly and methodically.
　　"There," she said, when she had finished. "You did that well," said MacWhirter.
　　There was a silence. Then Audrey said: "You saved my life. If you hadn't happened to see what you did see -"She broke off.
　　Then she said: "Did you realise at once that night on the cliff when you - you stopped me going over - when you said 'Go home, I'll see that you're not hanged' - did you realise then that you'd got some important evidence?""Not precisely," said MacWhirter. "I had to think it out." "Then how could you say - what you did say?"MacWhirter always felt annoyed when he had to explain the intense simplicity of his thought processes.
　　"I meant just precisely that - that I intended to prevent you from being hanged."The colour came up in Audrey's cheeks.
　　"Supposing I had done it?"
　　"That would have made no difference."
　　"Did you think I had done it, then?"
　　"I didn't speculate on the matter overmuch. I was inclined to believe you were innocent, but it would have made no difference to my course of action.""And then you remembered the man on the rope?"MacWhirter was silent for a few moments. Then he cleared his throat.
　　"You may as well know, I suppose, I did not actually see a man climbing up a rope - indeed, I could not have done so, for I was up on Stark Head on Sunday night, not on Monday. I deduced what must have happened from the evidence of the suit and my suppositions were confirmed by the finding of a wet rope in the attic."From red Audrey had gone white. She said incredulously: "Your story was all a lie?""Deductions would not have carried weight with the police. I had to say I saw what happened.""But - you might have had to swear to it at my trial.""Yes."
　　"You would have done that?"
　　"I would."
　　Audrey cried incredulously: "And you - you are the man who lost his job and came down to throwing himself off a cliff because he wouldn't tamper with the truth!""I have a great regard for the truth. But I've discovered there are things that matter more.""Such as?"
　　"You," said MacWhirter.
　　Audrey's eyes dropped. MacWhirter cleared his throat in an embarrassed manner.
　　"There's no need for you to feel under a great obligation or anything of that kind. You'll never hear of me again after to-day. The police have got Strange's confession and they'll not need my evidence. In any case, I hear he's so bad he'll maybe not live to come to trial.""I'm glad of that," said Audrey. "You were fond of him once?" "Of the man I thought he was."MacWhirter nodded. "We've all felt that way, maybe." He went on: "Everything's turned out well. Superintendent Battle was able to act upon my story and break down the man -"Audrey interrupted. She said: "He worked upon your story, yes. But I don't believe you fooled him. He deliberately shut his eyes.""Why do you say that?"
　　"When he was talking to me he mentioned it was lucky you saw what you did in the moonlight, and then added something - a sentence or two later - about it being a rainy night."MacWhirter was taken aback. "That's true. On Monday night I doubt if I'd have seen anything at all.""It doesn't matter," said Audrey.
　　"He knew that what you pretended to have seen was what had really happened. But it explains why he worked on Nevile to break him down. He suspected Nevile as soon as Thomas told him about me and Adrian. He knew then that if he was right about the kind of crime - he had fixed on the wrong person - what he wanted was some kind of evidence to use on Nevile. He wanted, as he said, a miracle - you were Superintendent Battle's prayer.""That's a curious thing for him to say," said MacWhirter dryly. "So you see," said Audrey, "you are a miracle. My special miracle."MacWhirter said earnestly: "I'd not like you to feel you're under an obligation to me. I'm going right out of your life -""Must you?" said Audrey.
　　He stared at her. The colour came up, flooding her ears and temples.
　　She said: "Won't you take me with you?"
　　"You don't know what you're saying!"
　　"Yes, I do. I'm doing something very difficult - but that matters to me more than life or death. I know the time is very short. By the way, I'm conventional; I should like to be married before we go!""Naturally," said MacWhirter, deeply shocked. "You don't imagine I'd suggest anything else?""I'm sure you wouldn't," said Audrey.
　　MacWhirter said: "I'm not your kind. I thought you'd marry that quiet fellow who's cared for you so long.""Thomas? Dear, true Thomas. He's too true. He's faithful to the image of a girl he loved years ago. But the person he really cares for is Mary Aldin, though he doesn't know it yet himself."MacWhirter took a step towards her. He spoke sternly. "Do you mean what you're saying?""Yes ... I want to be with you always, never to leave you. If you go I shall never find anybody like you, and I shall go lonely all my days."MacWhirter sighed. He took out his wallet and carefully examined its contents.
　　He murmured: "A special licence comes expensive. I'll need to go to the bank first thing to-morrow.""I could lend you some money," murmured Audrey.
　　"You'll do nothing of the kind. If I marry a woman, I pay for the licence. You understand?""You needn't," said Audrey softly, "look so stern."He said gently as he came towards her: "Last time I had my hands on you, you felt like a bird - struggling to escape. You'll never escape now ..."She said: "I shall never want to escape."
A Fine Italian Hand（13）
　　XIII
　　Angus MacWhirter sat on the terrace of the Easterhead Bay Hotel and stared across the river to the frowning height of Stark Head opposite.
　　He was engaged at the moment in a careful stocktaking of his thoughts and emotions.
　　He hardly knew what it was that had made him choose to spend his last few days of leisure where he now was. Yet something had drawn him there. Perhaps the wish to test himself - to see if there remained in his heart any of the old despair.
　　Mona? How little he cared now! She was married to the other man. He had passed her in the street one day without feeling any emotion. He could remember his grief and bitterness when she left him, but they were past now and gone.
　　He was recalled from these thoughts by an impact of wet dog and the frenzied appeal of a newly-made friend. Miss Diana Brinton, aged thirteen.
　　"Oh, come away, Don. Come away. Isn't it awful? He's rolled on some fish or something down on the beach. You can smell him yards away. The fish was awfully dead, you know!"MacWhirter's nose confirmed this assumption.
　　"In a sort of crevice on the rocks," said Miss Brinton. "I took him into the sea and tried to wash it off, but it doesn't seem to have done much good."MacWhirter agreed. Don, a wire-haired terrier of amiable and loving disposition, was looking hurt by the tendency of his friends to keep him firmly at arm's length.
　　"Sea water's no good," said MacWhirter. "Hot water and soap's the only thing." "I know. But that's not so jolly easy in a hotel. We haven't got a private bath."In the end MacWhirter and Diana surreptitiously entered by the side door with Don on a lead, and smuggling him up to MacWhirter's bathroom, a thorough cleansing took place and both MacWhirter and Diana got very wet. Don was very sad when it was all over. That disgusting smell of soap again - just when he had found a really nice perfume such as any other dog would envy. Oh, well, it was always the same with humans - they had no decent sense of smell.
　　The little incident had left MacWhirter in a more cheerful mood. He took the bus into Saltington, where he had left a suit to be cleaned.
　　The girl in charge of the 24-Hour Cleaners looked at him vacantly. "MacWhirter, did you say? I'm afraid it isn't ready yet.""It should be." He had been promised that suit the day before, and even that would have been 48 and not 24 hours. A woman might have said all this. MacWhirter merely scowled.
　　"There's not been time yet," said the girl, smiling indifferently. "Nonsense."The girl stopped smiling. She snapped: "Anyway, it's not done."Then I'll take it away as it is," said MacWhirter.
　　"Nothing's been done to it," the girl warned him.
　　"I'll take it away."
　　"I dare say we might get it done by to-morrow as a special favour.""I'm not in the habit of asking for special favours. Just give me the suit, please."Giving him a bad-tempered look, the girl went into the back room. She returned with a clumsily done-up parcel, which she pushed across the counter.
　　MacWhirter took it and went out.
　　He felt, quite ridiculously, as though he had won a victory. Actually it merely meant that he would have to have the suit cleaned elsewhere!
　　He threw the parcel on his bed when he returned to the hotel and looked at it with annoyance. Perhaps he could get it sponged and pressed in the hotel. It was not really too bad - perhaps it didn't actually need cleaning?
　　He undid the parcel and gave vent to an expression of annoyance. Really, the 24-Hour Cleaners were too inefficient for words. This wasn't his suit. It wasn't even the same colour! It had been a dark blue suit he had left with them. Impertinent, inefficient muddlers.
　　He glanced irritably at the label. It had the name MacWhirter, all right. Another MacWhirter? Or some stupid interchange of labels?
　　Staring down vexedly at the crumpled heap, he suddenly sniffed.
　　Surely he knew that smell - a particularly unpleasant smell ... connected somehow with a dog. Yes, that was it. Diana and her dog. Absolutely and literally stinking fish!
　　He bent down and examined the suit. There it was, a discoloured patch on the shoulder of the coat. On the shoulder -Now that, thought MacWhirter, is really very curious ...
　　Anyway, next day, he would have a few grim words with the girl at the 24-Hour Cleaners. Gross mismanagement!
精明的幕后黑手（12）
　　12
　　正穿过大厅的时候，巴特尔警司被玛丽•奥尔丁拦住了。
　　“我能跟你谈一小会儿吗，警司？”
　　“当然可以，奥尔丁小姐。我们可以进这里谈吗？”
　　他打开了餐厅的门，午饭已经被赫尔斯多收拾干净了。
　　“我想问你件事，警司。你肯定不会还觉得这桩……这桩可怕的罪行是我们当中的某个人干的了吧？凶手肯定是从外面来的！是哪个疯子干的！”
　　“你说的可能也没错到哪儿去，奥尔丁小姐。如果我没搞错的话，疯子这个词用来形容这个罪犯太贴切了。但凶手不是外人。”
　　她的眼睛瞪得老大。
　　“你是说这栋房子里的某个人——发疯了？”
　　“你在想的是，”警司说道，“某个人翻着白眼，口吐白沫。而疯狂并非是这个样子。某些最危险的罪犯看上去就像你我一样心智正常。通常情况下，这是个具有一种强迫观念的问题。某种想法在心头困扰，逐渐让心灵扭曲。招人可怜又通情达理的人跑来找你，跟你诉说他们如何受到迫害，如何被所有的人暗中监视——而你呢，有时候就会觉得这些肯定都是真的。”
　　“我确定这里没有哪个人有一丝一毫受到迫害的想法。”
　　“我只是举个例子。疯狂还可以表现为其他形式。但我相信，无论是谁犯下了这桩罪行，都是被一种固执的想法所支配——这种想法让他们念念不忘，直到其他所有事情都变得无足轻重或者无关紧要。”
　　玛丽发起抖来。她说：
　　“有些事情我想你应该知道。”
　　她简明扼要地向他讲述了特里夫斯先生来访并吃了晚饭的事情，以及老先生讲的那个故事。巴特尔警司表现出了浓厚的兴趣。
　　“他说他能够认出这个人？顺便问一句，是男人还是女人？”
　　“我猜那个故事讲的是个男孩子，但说真的，特里夫斯先生并没有这么说过。实际上我现在想起来了，他明确声明过他不会说出任何关于性别或者年龄方面的细节。”
　　“他真这么说过？这事儿或许还别有深意呢。那他有没有说过这个孩子身上有什么明确的特征，使他有把握在任何地方都能认出他来呢？”
　　“说过。”
　　“或许是一道疤——这里有谁身上有疤吗？”
　　他注意到玛丽•奥尔丁在回答之前稍微犹豫了一下：
　　“这个我没注意过。”
　　“好啦，奥尔丁小姐，”他微笑道，“你已经注意到什么了。果真如此的话，你不觉得我同样也能注意到吗？”
　　她摇摇头。
　　“我……我从来没注意过这类事情。”
　　但他却能看出她的震惊与苦恼。他的话很显然让她的脑海中浮现出了一连串令人不快的想法。他暗自希望能够知道那究竟是什么，不过他的经验使他意识到，此时此刻再对她施加压力也不会得到任何结果。
　　他把话题重新引回到特里夫斯老先生身上。
　　玛丽把那天晚上后来发生的悲惨结局也告诉了他。
　　巴特尔不厌其详地询问了她。随后他平静地说：
　　“这种事对我来说还是头一回。以前从来没有遇到过。”
　　“你这话是什么意思？”
　　“只靠简简单单在电梯上挂一块告示牌就实施了一桩谋杀，这种情况我还从来没有碰见过呢。”
　　她看上去被吓坏了。
　　“你不会真的觉得——”
　　“觉得那是桩谋杀吗？那当然是谋杀了！一起迅捷而且机智的谋杀。当然了，它也有成功不了的可能——但它的确成功了。”
　　“就因为特里夫斯先生他知道——”
　　“是的。因为他本来是能够把我们的注意力引到这屋子里某个特定的人身上的。看起来，我们从一开始就是在黑暗中摸索。不过现在我们已经见到了一丝曙光，每过一分钟，案情都会变得愈发清晰。我告诉你，奥尔丁小姐——这是一桩经过了事先周密计划，连最微小的细节都不放过的谋杀案。而且我还想让你牢牢记住，千万不要让任何人知道你已经告诉过我那些你刚刚告诉我的事。这一点非常重要。记住，别告诉任何人。”
　　玛丽点点头。她看起来依旧一片茫然。
　　巴特尔警司走出了房间，继续去做他刚才被玛丽•奥尔丁拦住时正打算去做的事。他是个办事有条不紊的人。他想要得到某些消息，一条新出现并且看起来前景光明的线索，无论它有多么诱人，都不会妨碍他按部就班地履行自己的职责。
　　他轻轻敲了敲书房的门，听到里面内维尔•斯特兰奇说了声“进来。”
　　巴特尔被引见给了特里劳尼先生，他是个身材高大、相貌出众的男人，有一双敏锐的黑眼睛。
　　“如果我打扰了你们的话，非常抱歉，”巴特尔警司赔礼道，“不过有些事情我还没搞清楚。你，斯特兰奇先生，继承了已故马修爵士的一半遗产，那谁继承了另一半呢？”
　　内维尔一脸诧异。
　　“我告诉过你了，是我太太。”
　　“是的。不过——”巴特尔不以为然地咳嗽了一声，“是哪个太太呢，斯特兰奇先生？”
　　“哦，我懂了。没错，是我自己表达得太糟糕了。钱是归奥德丽的，这份遗嘱订立的时候她是我太太。是这样吗，特里劳尼先生？”
　　律师表示了赞同。
　　“遗嘱上写得相当清楚。遗产将分给马修爵士的被监护人内维尔•亨利•斯特兰奇，以及他的妻子奥德丽•伊丽莎白•斯特兰奇，娘家姓斯坦迪什。后来二人的离婚也不会对此有丝毫影响。”
　　“那就明白了，”巴特尔说，“想必奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太对于这些事实也完全清楚吧？”
　　“当然。”特里劳尼先生说。
　　“那现任的斯特兰奇太太呢？”
　　“凯？”内维尔看上去有点儿惊讶，“哦，我想她知道吧。至少，我从来没怎么跟她谈过这个——”
　　“我想你会发现，”巴特尔说，“她误会了。她认为特雷西利安夫人一死钱就归你和你现在的妻子了。至少，她今天早上对我说的话是让我这么理解的。这也是为什么我要来查清楚遗嘱真实状况的原因。”
　　“真让人意想不到啊，”内维尔说，“不过，我猜这种误会还是挺容易产生的吧。现在我想起来了，有一两次她曾经说过，‘卡米拉一死那笔钱就是我们的了，’但我当时以为她只是把她自己和我会继承的那份钱联系在一起了呢。”
　　“是挺意想不到的，”巴特尔说，“就算两个人经常讨论同一件事，误会还是这么大——两个人各想各的，谁都没发现之间的分歧。”
　　“我想是吧，”内维尔说话的时候似乎提不起什么兴趣来，“不管怎么说，在这件案子里，这件事没那么要紧。又不是说我们有多缺钱。我很为奥德丽高兴。她手头一直都很拮据，这笔钱可算能帮她个大忙了。”
　　巴特尔直言不讳地说：“但是先生，离婚的时候她肯定有权利从你那儿得到一笔抚养费吧？”
　　内维尔的脸红了。他用克制的声音说道：
　　“有一种东西叫——尊严，警司。奥德丽始终都拒绝接受我想要给她的抚养费，分文不取。”
　　“一笔很丰厚的抚养费，”特里劳尼先生插话道，“但是奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太总是退还回来，拒绝接受。”
　　“很有意思。”巴特尔说完就走了出去，没等任何人有机会问他这句评论究竟有什么含义。
　　他出来找到了他外甥。
　　“从表面上来看，”他说，“这桩案子里差不多每个人都有像模像样的谋财动机。内维尔•斯特兰奇和奥德丽•斯特兰奇两个人可以各得整整五万英镑。凯•斯特兰奇觉得她也有资格得到五万镑。玛丽•奥尔丁能得到一份收入，使她不必再辛辛苦苦讨生活。托马斯•罗伊德，我不得不说，什么也没得到。但是我们可以把赫尔斯多包括进来，甚至就连芭雷特也不例外，假如我们承认她为了逃避嫌疑甘愿冒让自己送命的风险的话。是的，如我所言，我们一点儿都不缺少跟钱有关的动机。然而，如果我想的没错，钱跟这桩谋杀案根本就扯不上半点儿关系。假如说真的有纯粹因恨杀人这种事的话，这桩案子就是。而如果没有人来从中作梗，我就准备把凶手捉拿归案了！”
零点时刻（3）
　　3
　　安格斯•麦克沃特正在打点行装。
　　他小心翼翼地往衣箱里放了三件衬衫，随后是那件他没忘记从干洗店取回来的深蓝色外衣。两位不同的麦克沃特留下了两件外衣，这可让打理干洗店的那个女孩儿有点儿吃不消了。
　　这时响起了轻轻的敲门声，他喊了句“进来”。
　　奥德丽•斯特兰奇走了进来。她说：“我是来感谢你的——你在收拾行李吗？”
　　“是的。我今晚要离开这里。后天坐船启程。”
　　“去南美？”
　　“去智利。”
　　“我来帮你收拾。”
　　他表示了异议，但最终还是拗不过她。她收拾起来驾轻就熟，有条不紊，他就在一边看着她。
　　“好了。”收拾完毕之后她说。
　　“你干得真不错。”麦克沃特说。
　　两人陷入一阵沉默。接着奥德丽说道：
　　“你救了我一命。要是你没有碰巧看到你所看到的那个情景——”
　　她突然停了下来。
　　随后她又说道：“那天晚上在悬崖上你是立刻就意识到了吗，当你……你把我拦住，不让我过去——当你说‘回家去，我会确保你不被绞死’的时候——你是不是当时就意识到你已经掌握了某些重要证据呢？”
　　“也不完全是，”麦克沃特说，“我必须要仔细想想。”
　　“那你怎么能说出……你说过的那些话呢？”
　　每当他不得不向别人解释他那极度单纯的思维过程时，麦克沃特总是会觉得有些气恼。
　　“我说的话就是我想说的意思——我不想看到你被他们绞死。”
　　奥德丽的双颊泛起了红晕。
　　“假如是我干的呢？”
　　“那也不会有什么区别。”
　　“那么你想没想过可能真是我干的呢？”
　　“这件事我没想太多。我倾向于相信你是无辜的，不过我之后的一系列举动不会因此而有什么差别。”
　　“然后你就想起了那个爬绳子的男人？”
　　麦克沃特沉吟了片刻，然后清了清嗓子。
　　“我猜你或许已经知道了吧。其实我并没有看到一个男人在爬绳子——实际上我也不可能看到，因为我爬上斯塔克岬是在周日的晚上，而不是周一。我是从那件作为证据的外衣上推断出了发生过的事情，而在顶楼找到的那根湿绳子则证实了我的推测。”
　　奥德丽的脸色已经由红变白了。她难以置信地说道：
　　“你的故事根本就是个谎言？”
　　“推断本身对于警方来说无足轻重。我只能说是我亲眼看见了那一切。”
　　“但是，你有可能不得不在审判我的法庭上宣誓啊。”
　　“是啊。”
　　“你会那么做？”
　　“我会的。”
　　奥德丽又难以置信地叫道：“而你——你可是那个因为不愿意篡改事实而丢了饭碗，然后跑到这儿来跳崖自杀的人啊！”
　　“我对事实真相是极其尊重的。不过我也发现了有些事情更重要。”
　　“比如？”
　　“你。”麦克沃特说。
　　奥德丽的眼帘低垂下来。麦克沃特略显尴尬地清了清嗓子。
　　“你不需要老是觉得受了我的大恩大德似的。从今往后你也不会再听到我的消息了。警方已经获得了斯特兰奇的供认，他们也就不再需要我的证词了。还有，我听说他情况很糟糕，或许活不到上法庭了。”
　　“听到这个我挺高兴的。”奥德丽说。
　　“你曾经喜欢过他吗？”
　　“我喜欢的是我心目中的那个他。”
　　麦克沃特点点头。“或许，我们都有这样的感觉。”接着他说道，“一切都皆大欢喜了。
　　巴特尔警司能够采信并根据我的故事击垮了他——”
　　奥德丽打断了他的话。她说：
　　“他是在你的故事的基础上破了这个案子，这没错。但我不相信你能骗得了他。他只是故意睁一眼闭一眼罢了。”
　　“你为什么这么说？”
　　“当他跟我谈话的时候，他说起很幸运你看见了月色下的那一幕，后来他又补充了一下——也就是一两句话吧——他说那是个雨夜。”
　　麦克沃特吃了一惊。“那倒是真的。我也怀疑周一那天晚上恐怕我根本看不见什么。”
　　“无所谓了。”奥德丽说。
　　“他知道你假装说你看见的那些事情就是真实发生的事情。不过这也解释了他为什么要在内维尔身上下功夫从而使他崩溃。托马斯一告诉他我和艾德里安的事儿，他就开始怀疑内维尔了。于是他知道，如果他对于这类犯罪的想法是正确的话——他已经圈定的是错误的人选——那么他想要的就是能够用在内维尔身上的某种证据。用他自己的话来说，他想要一个奇迹——而你就是巴特尔警司祈祷应验的结果。”
　　“他要这么说，还真是件非比寻常的事情呢。”麦克沃特干巴巴地说道。
　　“所以你看，”奥德丽说，“你就是个奇迹。属于我的特殊奇迹。”
　　麦克沃特诚挚地说道：
　　“我不想让你觉得受了我的恩惠。我马上就要从你的生活中消失了——”
　　“你必须要走吗？”奥德丽问道。
　　他凝望着她。她的脸再次开始泛红，一直红到耳根和太阳穴。
　　她说：“你不带我一起走吗？”
　　“你不知道你在说些什么啊！”
　　“不，我知道。我正在做一件非常困难的事——但它对我来讲重于生死。我知道时间很紧迫。顺便说一句，我是个很传统的人，我想在我们动身之前先结婚！”
　　“那么，”麦克沃特深感震惊，说道，“自然你也认为我不会再有其他的任何提议。”
　　“我确信你不会。”奥德丽说。
　　麦克沃特说道：
　　“我跟你不是一类人。我看你还是应该跟那个喜欢了你很久的沉默寡言的家伙结婚吧。”
　　“托马斯？亲爱的忠实的托马斯。他太忠实了。他对他多年以前爱上的那个女孩儿的形象忠心耿耿。不过其实他真正喜欢的人是玛丽•奥尔丁，尽管他自己还不清楚。”
　　麦克沃特向她走近了一步。他严肃地说道：
　　“你刚刚说的话都当真？”
　　“对啊……我想要一直和你在一起，永远都不离开你。如果你走了，我就再也找不到一个像你这样的人了，而我也将在孤独中了此余生。”
　　麦克沃特叹了口气。他拿出钱包，仔细地查看了一下里面的东西。
　　他小声嘟囔道：
　　“一份结婚的特别许可证需要花不少钱。我明天第一件事就是要去趟银行。”
　　“我可以借你点儿。”奥德丽低声说道。
　　“你可千万别这么干。如果我要娶一个女人，证书得由我来付钱。你明白吗？”
　　“你没必要看起来那么严肃嘛。”奥德丽温柔地说道。
　　他一边向她走过来，一边轻柔地说道：
　　“上次我的手抓着你的时候，感觉你就像只小鸟——挣扎着要逃脱。现在你可再也逃不了了……”
　　她说：“我永远都不想逃。”
精明的幕后黑手（13）
　　13
　　安格斯•麦克沃特坐在复活节海湾酒店的露台之上，目光越过河面，凝望着对岸高耸险峻的斯塔克岬。
　　此刻，他正致力于对自己思绪与情感的细心盘点之中。
　　他也不知道究竟是什么原因驱使他来到此地，度过他最后的几天闲暇时光。但还是有种力量把他吸引到了这里。或许是出于一种检验他自己的愿望——看一看他内心之中是否还残留着既往曾有的绝望。
　　莫娜？他现在已经很少会在意她了。她嫁给了另一个男人。有一天他在街上与她擦肩而过，心中也没有荡起一丝涟漪。他还能记起当她抛下他的时候那种悲伤和痛苦，但这些如今都已成为过去，消失得无影无踪了。
　　一条湿漉漉的小狗，伴随着一阵狂怒的呼喊声把他从思绪中拉了回来，那是他新交的朋友，十三岁的黛安娜•布林顿小姐在叫喊。
　　“噢，给我滚开，唐。快滚得远远的。你也太恶心了吧？它在海滩上打滚的时候指不定滚到死鱼或者什么东西上面了呢。你隔着老远就能闻到它身上那股臭味儿。你知道，那死鱼真是臭得要命！”
　　麦克沃特的鼻子也闻到这股味儿了。
　　“就在一个岩石缝里，”布林顿小姐说，“我把它带到海里，想给它洗洗干净，不过看起来似乎没什么用。”
　　麦克沃特对此表示同意。而唐，这只性情温顺可爱的硬毛小猎犬，因为看到它的朋友斩钉截铁地要和它保持距离而显出一副很受伤的样子。
　　“用海水洗不行，”麦克沃特说道，“热水和肥皂才是唯一的办法。”
　　“我知道。不过在酒店里要这些可没那么容易。我们又没有私人浴室。”
　　最终麦克沃特和黛安娜牵着唐，偷偷摸摸地从边门进了酒店，又偷偷摸摸地把它带到了麦克沃特的浴室，在那儿给它彻底清洗了一番，还弄得麦克沃特和黛安娜浑身都湿透了。全洗干净之后唐显得很悲伤。又是这种难闻的肥皂味儿——它可是刚刚才找到一种能让其他狗狗都羡慕的气味啊。唉，人类总是一样的——对于气味根本就没有像样的辨别能力。
　　这个小插曲让麦克沃特的心情愉快了一些。他坐上公交车前往索廷顿，去取一套他留在那里清洗的衣服。
　　负责这家二十四小时干洗店的女孩一脸茫然地看着他。
　　“你是说叫麦克沃特？恐怕还没洗好。”
　　“应该洗好了。”那套衣服他们向他保证昨天就可以弄好取走的，即使那样也已经是四十八小时而非二十四小时了。换成个女人的话肯定会这么说。麦克沃特只是把脸沉了下来。
　　“还没到时间。”女孩冷淡地一笑，说道。
　　“胡扯。”
　　女孩收起了笑容，突然之间失去了冷静。
　　“不管怎么样，就是还没弄好。”她说。“那什么样儿我都拿走。”麦克沃特说。
　　“还什么都没弄呢。”女孩警告他。
　　“我要取走。”
　　“我想我们明天应该就能洗好了——作为特殊照顾。”
　　“我不习惯要求特殊照顾。麻烦你把衣服给我就好了。”
　　女孩没好气儿地甩给他一个眼神之后进了里屋。她回来的时候带着一个胡乱包起来的包裹，一把推过了柜台。
　　麦克沃特拿起包裹，走出店门。
　　很荒唐的是，他觉得自己仿佛打了一场胜仗。而实际上，这仅仅意味着他不得不把衣服再送到其他地方去清洗！
　　回到酒店之后，他把包裹扔到床上，恼怒地看着它。或许他可以在酒店里把衣服擦一擦再熨一下。那件衣服原本看起来真的不算太糟糕——没准儿实际上它并不需要清洗呢？
　　他打开包裹一看，顿时火冒三丈。那家二十四小时干洗店真是无能得让人无话可说。
　　这根本不是他的衣服，甚至连颜色都不一样。他留给他们清洗的是一件深蓝色的衣服。一帮成事不足败事有余的糊涂蛋。
　　他生气地瞅了一眼标签。名字写的是麦克沃特没错。难道有另一个麦克沃特？还是说哪个笨蛋把标签搞错了？
　　他烦恼地低头看着这堆皱皱巴巴的衣服，突然抽了抽鼻子。
　　毫无疑问，他熟悉这种气味——一股极其难闻的气味……不知怎么着让他联想到一只小狗。没错，就是这种气味。黛安娜和她的狗。绝对就是那股臭鱼味！
　　他俯下身子检查这套衣服。就在这儿，外套的肩膀上有一片褪了色的痕迹。就在肩膀上——
　　麦克沃特心想，这件事可真是太稀奇古怪了……无论如何，明天他都准备去找那个二十四小时干洗店的女孩，当面说上几句难听的话。这简直是驴唇不对马嘴！
A Fine Italian Hand（15）
　　XV
　　Mary Aldin was lying on the drawing-room sofa. Her head ached and her whole body felt worn out.
　　The inquest had taken place the day before and, after formal evidence of identification, had been adjourned for a week.
　　Lady Tressilian's funeral was to take place on the morrow. Audrey and Kay had gone into Saltington in the car to get some black clothes. Ted Latimer had gone with them. Nevile and Thomas Royde had gone for a walk, so, except for the servants, Mary was alone in the house.
　　Superintendent Battle and Inspector Leach had been absent to-day, and that, too, was a relief. It seemed to Mary that with their absence a shadow had been lifted. They had been polite, quite pleasant, in fact, but the ceaseless questions, that quiet, deliberate probing and sifting of every fact, was the sort of thing that wore hardly on the nerves. By now that wooden-faced Superintendent must have learned of every incident, every word, every gesture, even, of the past ten days.
　　Now, with their going, there was peace. Mary let herself relax. She would forget everything - everything. Just lie back and rest.
　　"Excuse me, Madam -"
　　It was Hurstall in the doorway, looking apologetic.
　　"A gentleman wishes to see you. I have put him in the study."Mary looked at him in astonishment and some annoyance.
　　"Who is it?"
　　"He gave his name as Mr. MacWhirter, Miss.""I've never heard of him."
　　"No, Miss."
　　"He must be a reporter. You shouldn't have let him in, Hurstall."Hurstall coughed.
　　"I don't think he is a reporter, Miss. I think he is a friend of Miss Audrey's.""Oh, that's different."
　　Smoothing her hair, Mary went wearily across the hall and into the small study. She was, somehow, a little surprised as the tall man standing by the window turned. He did not look in the least like a friend of Audrey's.
　　However, she said pleasantly: "I'm sorry Mrs. Strange is out. You wanted to see her."He looked at her in a thoughtful, considering way.
　　"You'll be Miss Aldin?" be said.
　　"Yes."
　　"I dare say you can help me just as well. I want to find some rope.""Rope?" said Mary in lively amazement.
　　"Yes, rope. Where would you be likely to keep a piece of rope?"Afterwards Mary considered that she had been half-hypnotised. If this strange man had volunteered any explanation she might have resisted. But Andrew MacWhirter, unable to think of a plausible explanation, decided, very wisely, to do without one. He just stated quite simply what he wanted. She found herself, semi-dazed, leading MacWhirter in search of rope.
　　"What kind of rope?" she had asked.
　　And he had replied: "Any rope will do."
　　She said doubtfully: "Perhaps in the potting shed -""Shall we go there?"
　　She led the way. There was twine and an odd bit of cord, but MacWhirter shook his head.
　　He wanted rope - a good-sized coil of rope. "There's the box-room," said Mary hesitatingly. "Ay, that might be the place."They went indoors and upstairs. Mary threw open the box-room door. MacWhirter stood in the doorway looking in. He gave a curious sigh of contentment.
　　"There it is," he said.
　　There was a big coil of rope lying on a chest just inside the door in company with old fishing tackle and some moth-eaten cushions. He laid a hand on her arm and impelled Mary gently forward until they stood looking down on the rope. He touched it and said: "I'd like you to charge your memory with this. Miss Aldin. You'll notice that everything round about is covered with dust. There's no dust on this rope. Just feel it."She said: "It feels slightly damp," in a surprised tone.
　　"Just so."
　　He turned to go out again.
　　"But the rope? I thought you wanted it?" said Mary in surprise.
　　MacWhirter smiled.
　　"I just wanted to know it was there. That's all. Perhaps you wouldn't mind locking this door. Miss Aldin - and taking the key out? Yes. I'd be obliged if you'd hand the key to Superintendent Battle or Inspector Leach. It would be best in their keeping."As they went downstairs, Mary made an effort to rally herself.
　　She protested as they reached the main hall: "But really, I don't understand."MacWhirter said firmly: "There's no need for you to understand." He took her hand and shook it heartily. "I'm very much obliged to you for your co-operation."Whereupon he went straight out of the front door. Mary wondered if she had been dreaming.
　　Nevile and Thomas came in presently and the car arrived back shortly afterwards and Mary Aldin found herself envying Kay and Ted for being able to look quite cheerful. They were laughing and joking together. After all, why not? she thought. Camilla Tressilian had been nothing to Kay. All this tragic business was very hard on a bright young creature.
　　They had just finished lunch when the police came. There was something scared in Hurstall's voice as he announced that Superintendent Battle and Inspector Leach were in the drawing-room.
　　Superintendent Battle's face was quite genial as he greeted them.
　　"Hope I haven't disturbed you all," he said apologetically. "But there are one or two things I'd like to know about. This glove, for instance, who does it belong to?"He held it out, a small yellow chamois leather glove.
　　He addressed Audrey.
　　"Is this yours, Mrs. Strange?"
　　She shook her head.
　　"No - no, it isn't mine."
　　"Miss Aldin?"
　　"I don't think so. I have none of that colour.""May I see?" Kay held out her hand. "No."Kay tried, but the glove was too small.
　　"Miss Aldin?"
　　Mary tried in her turn.
　　"It's too small for you also," said Battle. He turned back to Audrey. "I think you'll find it fits you, all right. Your hand is smaller than either of the other ladies'."Audrey took it from him and slipped it on over her right hand.
　　Nevile Strange said sharply: "She's already told you, Battle, that it isn't her glove.""Ah, well," said Battle, "perhaps she made a mistake. Or forgot." Audrey said: "It may be mine - gloves are so alike, aren't they?"Battle said: "At any rate, it was found outside your window, Mrs. Strange, pushed down into the ivy - with its fellow."There was a pause. Audrey opened her mouth to speak, then closed it up again. Her eyes fell before the Superintendent's steady gaze.
　　Nevile sprang forward. "Look here. Superintendent -""Perhaps we might have a word with you, Mr. Strange, privately?" Battle said gravely.
　　"Certainly, Superintendent. Come into the library."He led the way and the two police officers followed him.
　　As soon as the door had closed Nevile said sharply: "What's this ridiculous story about gloves outside my wife's window?"Battle said quietly: "Mr. Strange, we've found some very curious things in this house."Nevile frowned.
　　"Curious? What do you mean by curious?"
　　"I'll show you."
　　In obedience to a nod. Leach left the room and came back holding a very strange implement.
　　Battle said: "This consists, as you see, sir, of a steel ball taken from a Victorian fender - a heavy steel ball. Then the head has been sawn off a tennis racquet and the ball has been screwed into the handle of the racquet."He paused. "I think there can be no doubt that this is what was used to kill Lady Tressilian.""Horrible!" said Nevile with a shudder. "But where did you find this - this nightmare?""The ball had been cleaned and put back on the fender. The murderer had, however, neglected to clean the screw. We found a trace of blood on that. In the same way the handle and the head of the racquet were joined together again by means of adhesive surgical plaster. It was then thrown carelessly back into the cupboard under the stairs, where it would probably have remained quite unnoticed amongst so many others if we hadn't happened to be looking for something of that kind.""Smart of you, Superintendent." "Just a matter of routine.""No fingerprints, I suppose?"
　　"That racquet, which belongs, by its weight, I should say, to Mrs. Kay Strange, has been handled by her and also by you, and both your prints are on it. But it also shows unmistakable signs that someone wearing gloves handled it after you did. There was just one other fingerprint - left this time in inadvertence, I think. That was on the surgical strapping that had been applied to bind the racquet together again. I'm not going for the moment to say whose print that was. I've got some other points to mention first."Battle paused, then he said: "I want you to prepare yourself for a shock, Mr. Strange. And first I want to ask you something. Are you quite sure that it was your own idea to have this meeting here and that it was not actually suggested to you by Mrs. Audrey Strange?""Audrey did nothing of the sort. Audrey -"The door opened and Thomas Royde came in.
　　"Sorry to butt in," he said, "but I thought I'd like to be in on this."Nevile turned a harassed face towards him.
　　"Do you mind, old fellow? This is all rather private.""I'm afraid I don't care about that. You see, I heard a name outside." He paused. "Audrey's name.""And what the hell has Audrey's name got to do with you?" demanded Nevile, his temper rising.
　　"Well, what has it to do with you, if it comes to that? I haven't said anything definite to Audrey, but I came here meaning to ask her to marry me, and I think she knows it. What's more, I mean to marry her."Superintendent Battle coughed. Nevile turned to him with a start. "Sorry, Superintendent. This interruption -"Battle said: "It doesn't matter to me, Mr. Strange. I've got one more question to ask you. That dark blue coat you wore at dinner the night of the murder, it's got fair hairs inside the collar and on the shoulders. Do you know how they got there?""I suppose they're my hairs."
　　"Oh, no, they're not yours, sir. They're a lady's hairs, and there's a red hair on the sleeve.""I suppose that's my wife's - Kay's. The others, you are suggesting, are Audrey's? Very likely they are. I caught my cuff button in her hair one night outside on the terrace. I remember.""In that case," murmured Leach, "the fair hair would be on the cuff." "What the devil are you suggesting?" cried Nevile.
　　"There's a trace of powder, too, inside the coat collar," said Battle. "Primavera Naturelle No. 1 - a very pleasant-scented powder and expensive - but it's no good telling me that you use it, Mr. Strange, because I shan't believe you. And Mrs. Kay Strange uses Orchid Sun Kiss. Mrs. Audrey Strange does use Primavera Naturelle No. 1.""What are you suggesting?" repeated Nevile. Battle leaned forward.
　　"I'm suggesting that - on some occasion, Mrs. Audrey Strange wore that coat. It's the only reasonable way the hair and the powder could get where it did. Then you've seen that glove I produced just now? It's her glove, all right. That was the right hand, here's the left." He drew it out of his pocket and put it down on the table. It was crumpled and stained with rusty brown patches.
　　Nevile said with a note of fear in his voice: "What's that on it?""Blood, Mr. Strange," said Battle firmly. "And you'll note this, it's the left hand. Now, Mrs. Audrey Strange is left-handed. I noted that first thing when I saw her sitting with her coffee cup in her right hand and her cigarette in her left at the breakfast table. And the pen tray on her writing-table had been shifted to the left-hand side. It all fits in. The knob from her grate, the gloves outside her window, the hair and powder on the coat. Lady Tressilian was struck on the right temple - but the position of the bed made it impossible for anyone to have stood on the other side of it. It follows that to strike Lady Tressilian a blow with the right hand would be a very awkward thing to do - but it's the natural way to strike for a left-handed person ...""Are you suggesting that Audrey - Audrey would make all these elaborate preparations and strike down an old lady whom she had known for years in order to get her hands on that old lady's money?"Battle shook his head.
　　"I'm suggesting nothing of the sort. I'm sorry, Mr. Strange, you've got to understand just how things are. This crime, first, last and all the time, was directed against you. Ever since you left her, Audrey Strange has been brooding over the possibilities of revenge. In the end she has become mentally unbalanced. Perhaps she was never mentally very strong. She thought, perhaps, of killing you, but that wasn't enough. She thought at last of getting you hanged for murder. She chose an evening when she knew you had quarrelled with Lady Tressilian. She took the coat from your bedroom and wore it when she struck the old lady down, so that it should be bloodstained. She put your niblick on the floor, knowing we would find your fingerprints on it, and smeared blood and hair on the head of the club. It was she who instilled into your mind the idea of coming here when she was here. And the thing that saved you was the one thing she couldn't count on - the fact that Lady Tressilian rang her bell for Barrett and that Barrett saw you leave the house."Nevile had buried his face in his hands. He said now: "It's not true. It's not true! Audrey's never borne a grudge against me. You've got the whole thing wrong. She's the straightest, truest creature - without one thought of evil in her heart.""It's not my business to argue with you, Mr. Strange. I only wanted to prepare you. I shall caution Mrs. Strange and ask her to accompany me. I've got the warrant. You'd better see about getting a solicitor for her.""It's preposterous. Absolutely preposterous.""Love turns to hate more easily than you think, Mr. Strange.""I tell you it's all wrong - preposterous."Thomas Royde broke in. His voice was quiet and pleasant.
　　"Do stop repeating that it's preposterous, Nevile. Pull yourself together. Don't you see that the only thing that can help Audrey now is for you to give up all your ideas of chivalry and come out with the truth?""The truth? You mean -"
　　"I mean the truth about Audrey and Adrian." Royde turned to the police officers. "You see, Superintendent, you've got the facts wrong. Nevile didn't leave Audrey. She left him. She ran away with my brother, Adrian. Then Adrian was killed in a car accident. Nevile behaved with the utmost chivalry to Audrey. He arranged that she should divorce him and that he would take the blame.""Didn't want her name dragged through the mud," muttered Nevile sulkily. "Didn't know anyone knew.""Adrian wrote out to me just before," explained Thomas briefly. He went on: "Don't you see, Superintendent, that knocks your motive out! Audrey has no cause to hate Nevile. On the contrary, she has every reason to be grateful to him. He's tried to get her to accept an allowance, which she wouldn't do. Naturally, when he wanted her to come and meet Kay she didn't feel she could refuse.""You see," Nevile put in eagerly, - "that cuts out her motive. Thomas is right." Battle's wooden face was immovable.
　　"Motive's only one thing," he said. "I may have been wrong about that. But facts are another. All the facts show that she's guilty."Nevile said meaningly: "All the facts showed that I was guilty two days ago!" Battle seemed a little taken aback.
　　"That's true enough. But look here, Mr. Strange, at what you're asking me to believe. You're asking me to believe that there's someone who hates both of you - someone who, if the plot against you failed, had laid a second trail to lead to Audrey Strange. Now, can you think of anyone, Mr. Strange, who hates both you and your former wife?"Nevile's head had dropped into his hands again.
　　"When you say it like that you make it all sound fantastic!""Because it is fantastic. I've got to go by the facts. If Mrs. Strange has any explanation to offer -""Did I have any explanation?" asked Nevile.
　　"It's no good, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty."Battle got up abruptly. He and Leach left the room first. Nevile and Royde came close behind them.
　　They went on across the hall into the drawing-room. There they stopped.
　　Audrey Strange got up. She walked forward to meet them. She looked straight at Battle, her lips parted in what was very nearly a smile.
　　She said very softly: "You want me, don't you?" Battle became very official.
　　"Mrs. Strange, I have a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of murdering Camilla Tressilian on Monday last, September 12th. I must caution you that anything you say will be written down and may be used in evidence at your trial."Audrey gave a sigh. Her small clear-cut face was peaceful and pure as a cameo. "It's almost a relief. I'm glad it's - over!"Nevile sprang forward.
　　"Audrey - don't say anything - don't speak at all."She smiled at him.
　　"But why not, Nevile? It's all true - and I'm so tired."Leach drew a deep breath. Well, that was that. Mad as a hatter, of course, but it would save a lot of worry! He wondered what had happened to his uncle. The old boy was looking as though he had seen a ghost. Staring at the poor demented creature as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Oh, well, it had been an interesting case. Leach thought comfortably.
　　And then, an almost grotesque anticlimax, Hurstall opened the drawing-room door and announced: "Mr. MacWhirter."MacWhirter strode in purposefully. He went straight up to Battle. "Are you the police officer in charge of the Tressilian case?" he asked.
　　"I am."
　　"Then I have an important statement to make. I am sorry not to have come forward before, but the importance of something I happened to see on the night of Monday last has only just dawned on me."He gave a quick glance round the room. "If I can speak to you somewhere?"Battle turned to Leach.
　　"Will you stay here with Mrs. Strange?"
　　Leach said officially: "Yes, sir."
　　Then he leant forward and whispered something into the other's ear.
　　Battle turned to MacWhirter. "Come this way."He led the way into the library.
　　"Now then, what's all this? My colleague tells me that he's seen you before - last winter?""Quite right," said MacWhirter. "Attempted suicide. That's part of my story." "Go on, Mr. MacWhirter.""Last January I attempted to kill myself by throwing myself off Stark Head. This year the fancy took me to revisit the spot. I walked up there on Monday night. I stood there for some time. I looked down at the sea and across to Easterhead Bay and I then looked to my left. That is to say, I looked across towards this house. I could see it quite plainly in the moonlight.""Yes."
　　"Until to-day I had not realised that that was the night when a murder was committed."He leant forward. "I'll tell you what I saw."
精明的幕后黑手（14）
　　14
　　吃过晚饭以后，他信步走出酒店，沿着路往渡口的方向走去。这是个晴朗的夜晚，但是有些冷，明显带有一种冬季将至的意味。夏天已经过去了。
　　麦克沃特乘上去往盐溪那边的渡船。这是他第二次重访斯塔克岬。这个地方对他有一种魔力使他着迷。他缓步走上山坡，经过巴尔莫勒尔宅邸，接着是一幢坐落于悬崖顶端的大房子。海鸥角——他看到刷着漆的大门上写着这个名字。当然啦，这就是那个老太太被谋杀了的地方。酒店里已经有很多人在议论这件事，帮他打扫房间的女服务员则非要给他讲讲来龙去脉，连报纸也把这桩案子摆在了显眼的地方，这些让麦克沃特不胜其烦，他更愿意读些世界上发生的大事，而对于罪案兴趣不大。
　　他继续往前走，再次走下山坡，沿着一小片沙滩前行，绕过几间经过现代化改造过的老式渔舍。然后又爬上山坡，直到大路的尽头渐渐延伸为通往斯塔克岬的小径。
　　斯塔克岬阴森可怖，令人生畏。麦克沃特站在悬崖边缘，向下看着海面。那天晚上，他也是站在这里。他试图重温当时的一些感受——绝望，愤怒，消沉厌世——渴望逃离这一切。但他什么也没能重温起来，所有的感受都已经消失殆尽，取而代之的是一种冷冷的愤怒。被那棵树挂住，被海岸警卫队救下，在医院里被他们像对待一个淘气的孩子一般大惊小怪，一连串的轻侮和冒犯。为什么他们就不能不去管他？他宁可，一千次地宁可脱离这一切。如今他依然有这种感觉。唯一失去的是必要的动力。
　　那时候他一想到莫娜是多么痛心疾首啊！现在他可以很平静地想起她了。她一直都挺傻的。任何人只要对她阿谀奉承或者投其所好都能很轻易地让她乖乖上钩。她很漂亮。是的，非常漂亮——但没有头脑，并不是他曾经梦寐以求的那种女人。
　　不过当然，美女就是如此——这时一幅想象中的画面隐约浮现出来，一个女人飞过夜空，一袭白衣在她身后随风飘曳——有点像在船头用作装饰的雕像——只是没那么坚固——远远没有那么坚固……
　　紧接着，在电光石火之间，不可思议的事情发生了！夜色之中，一个人影飞奔而来。
　　她时隐时现——一个白色的身影在奔跑，狂奔，向着悬崖边缘而来。这个美丽而绝望的身影，被身后穷追不舍的复仇女神驱向灭亡！带着极度的绝望奔跑着——他知道那种绝望。
　　他知道那意味着什么……
　　他从阴影中猛冲出来，就在她即将越过悬崖边缘的那一刻抓住了她！
　　他厉声说道：“不，你不要——”
　　抓着她就像抓着一只小鸟。她挣扎着——无声地挣扎着，然后，又一次如同小鸟那样，突然跟死了似的，一动不动了。
　　他急切地说道：
　　“别跳下去！不管为了什么都不值得。任何事情。哪怕你遭遇了天大的不幸——”
　　她发出了一点声响。或许那只是一声来自远方的鬼魅般的笑声。
　　他厉声说道：
　　“你并不是遇到了不幸？那这是为了什么？”
　　她立即用低如耳语般的声音轻声回答道：
　　“害怕。”
　　“害怕？”他闻言大吃一惊，不由得放开了她，退后一步以便能看清楚她。
　　接着他就意识到她的话是真的。是恐惧使她的脚步变得如此急迫，是恐惧使她聪颖白皙的小脸变得茫然而迟钝。因为恐惧，就连分得很开的双眼也圆睁起来。
　　他疑惑地说道：“你在害怕什么？”
　　她回答的声音太低了，低到他几乎听不见。
　　“我害怕被绞死……”
　　没错，她就是这么说的。他久久地凝视着，目光从她身上渐渐移到悬崖边缘。
　　“就因为这个？”
　　“对。还不如死个痛快——”她闭上眼睛，浑身颤抖，战栗不停。
　　麦克沃特把事情在心里捋了一遍才看出些端倪。
　　他最后说道：
　　“是特雷西利安夫人？那个被谋杀了的老太太？”接着，他以责备的口吻说道，“你是斯特兰奇太太——第一任斯特兰奇太太。”
　　她点点头，依然不住地颤抖着。
　　麦克沃特以谨慎的口气继续慢慢说着话，同时试图回忆起他听到的所有事情。事实中夹杂着传言。
　　“他们扣押了你的丈夫——对不对？有一大堆证据对他不利——然后他们又发现这些证据都是某个人假造出来陷害他的……”
　　他停下来看着她。她不再颤抖了，只是站在那里也同样看着他，就像个温顺的孩子。
　　他发现她的样子楚楚动人，让人难以自持。
　　他又继续说道：
　　“我明白了……没错，我明白是怎么回事了。他为了另一个女人离开了你，对不对？而你还爱着他……这就是为什么——”他突然打住了，接着又说道，“我理解。我妻子也是为了另一个男人离开了我……”
　　她甩开双臂，开始拼命结结巴巴地说起来，语气中充满绝望：
　　“这……这不……不是……像……像你说的那样。根本就不……不是——”
　　他打断了她的话，口气威严而不容置疑。
　　“回家去。你再也不用害怕了。你听明白了吗？我会确保你不被绞死的！”
A Fine Italian Hand（16）
　　XVI
　　It was really only about five minutes before Battle returned to the drawing-room, but to those there it seemed much longer.
　　Kay had suddenly lost control of herself. She had cried out to Audrey: "I knew it was you. I always knew it was you. I knew you were up to something -"Mary Aldin said quickly: "Please, Kay." Nevile said sharply: "Shut up, Kay, for God's sake." Ted Latimer came over to Kay, who had begun to cry. "Get a grip on yourself," he said kindly.
　　He said to Nevile angrily: "You don't seem to realise that Kay has been under a lot of strain! Why don't you look after her a bit. Strange?""I'm all right," said Kay.
　　"For two pins," said Ted, "I'd take you away from the lot of them!"Inspector Leach cleared his throat. A lot of injudicious things were said at times like these, as he well knew. The unfortunate part was that they were usually remembered most inconveniently afterwards.
　　Battle came back into the room. His face was expressionless.
　　He said: "Will you put one or two things together, Mrs. Strange? I'm afraid Inspector Leach must come upstairs with you."Mary Aldin said: "I'll come, too."
　　When the two women had left the room with the Inspector, Nevile said anxiously: "Well, what did that chap want?"Battle said slowly: "Mr. MacWhirter tells a very odd story." "Does it help Audrey? Are you still determined to arrest her?" "I've told you, Mr. Strange. I've got to do my duty." Nevile turned away, the eagerness dying out of his face. He said: "I'd better telephone Trelawny, I suppose.""There's no immediate hurry for that, Mr. Strange. There's a certain experiment I want to make first as a result of Mr. MacWhirter's statement. I'll just see that Mrs. Strange gets off first."Audrey was coming down the stairs, Inspector Leach beside her. Her face still had that remote, detached composure.
　　Nevile came towards her, his hands outstretched. "Audrey -"Her colourless glance swept over him. She said: "It's all right, Nevile. I don't mind. I don't mind anything."Thomas Royde stood by the front door, almost as though he would bar the way out.
　　A very faint smile came to her lips. "‘True Thomas,'" she murmured. He mumbled: "If there's anything I can do -" "No one can do anything," said Audrey.
　　She went out with her head high. A police car was waiting outside with Sergeant Jones in it. Audrey and Leach got in.
　　Ted Latimer murmured appreciatively: "Lovely exit!"Nevile turned on him furiously. Superintendent Battle dexterously interposed his bulk and raised a soothing voice: "As I said, I've got an experiment to make. Mr. MacWhirter is waiting down at the ferry. We're to join him there in ten minutes' time. We shall be going out in a motor-launch, so the ladies had better wrap up warmly. In ten minutes, please."He might have been a stage manager ordering a company on to the stage. He took no notice at all of their puzzled faces.
精明的幕后黑手（15）
　　15
　　玛丽•奥尔丁躺在客厅的沙发上。她感到头疼，整个人都疲惫不堪。
　　聆讯已于昨日开始进行，经过对正式证词的确认之后，宣布休庭一周。
　　特雷西利安夫人的葬礼将于次日举行。奥德丽和凯坐车到索廷顿去买些丧服。特德•拉蒂默和她们一起去了。内维尔和罗伊德出去散步，所以除了仆人之外，屋子里只有玛丽一个人。
　　巴特尔警司和利奇督察今天都不在这里，而这也是一种解脱。对玛丽而言，他们两个人不在使得笼罩在头顶的乌云都随之消散了。事实上，他们彬彬有礼，和蔼可亲，只是无休无止的问题、不动声色的试探以及事无巨细的筛查对人的神经简直是一种严酷的折磨。
　　到现在为止，那个长着一张木雕脸的警司肯定已经对过去十天里这里发生的每一件事，人们说的每一句话，甚至做的每一个手势都了如指掌了。
　　如今，他们一走，这里又重归平静。玛丽让自己放松下来。她要忘掉所有事情——忘掉一切。只想要躺下来，休息休息。
　　“对不起，小姐——”
　　说话的是赫尔斯多，他站在门口，满脸歉意。
　　“怎么了，赫尔斯多？”
　　“有位先生想要见您。我已经把他带到书房去了。”玛丽惊讶地看着他，带着几分恼怒。
　　“什么人啊？”
　　“他说他是麦克沃特先生，小姐。”
　　“我从来没听说过这个人。”
　　“是的，小姐。”
　　“他肯定是个记者。你就不该让他进来，赫尔斯多。”
　　赫尔斯多咳嗽了一声。
　　“我觉得他不是记者，小姐。我想他是奥德丽小姐的朋友。”“哦，那就是另一回事了。”
　　玛丽一边捋着头发，一边迈着慵懒的步伐穿过大厅，走进小书房。当那个站在窗边的高个子男人转过身来的时候，她不知为什么感到有点吃惊。因为他怎么看都不像是奥德丽的朋友。
　　但她还是很客气地说道：
　　“很抱歉，斯特兰奇太太出去了。你想要见她？”
　　他若有所思地看着她。
　　“你是奥尔丁小姐吧？”他说。
　　“是的。”
　　“想必你也一样能帮助我。我想要找些绳子。”
　　“绳子？”玛丽有些诧异地问道。
　　“没错，绳子。你们有可能把绳子放在什么地方呢？”
　　事后回想，玛丽觉得她当时肯定是处于一种半催眠的状态之中。如果这个奇怪的男子主动给出任何解释的话，她或许都会抵挡一阵。但是安格斯•麦克沃特实在想不出什么说得过去的理由，于是他非常明智地决定索性开门见山。他只不过直截了当地说出了他想要的东西，她就发现自己晕晕乎乎地带着麦克沃特去找绳子了。
　　“什么样的绳子？”她问道。
　　而他回答说：“什么样的绳子都可以。”
　　她举棋不定地说道：“也许在花园的工具棚里——”
　　“那我们去那儿好吗？”
　　她在前面带路。在那里他们找到一些麻线和一小段细绳子，但麦克沃特摇了摇头。
　　他想要找绳子——一捆够粗的绳子。
　　“还有储藏室。”玛丽犹豫着说道。
　　“好啊，或许就在那儿。”
　　他们进屋上楼。玛丽推开了储藏室的门。麦克沃特站在门口向里张望，然后难以理解地发出一声心满意足的叹息。
　　“就是这个。”他说。
　　就在门里面的一个大箱子上放着一大捆绳子，旁边是老旧的渔具和一些被虫子蛀过的垫子。他把一只手放在她的胳膊上，推着玛丽走上前去，直到来到绳子跟前，他们一起低头看着它。他摸了摸绳子，说道：
　　“我想让你记住这个，奥尔丁小姐。你会发现这旁边的所有东西都落满了灰尘。而这条绳子一尘不染。摸摸它。”
　　“摸起来有点儿湿。”她的语气中满是惊讶。
　　“就是这样。”
　　他转身准备出去。
　　“那这绳子怎么办？我以为你想要它呢？”玛丽诧异地说。
　　麦克沃特微微一笑。
　　“我只是想知道它在这儿。仅此而已。或许你不介意把这扇门锁上，奥尔丁小姐——再把钥匙拔下来吧？好的。如果你能把钥匙交给巴特尔警司或是利奇督察的话，我将不胜感激。交给他们保管是最好不过的了。”
　　当他们下楼的时候，玛丽努力让自己重整旗鼓。
　　他们一回到大厅，玛丽就提出了异议：
　　“但说真的，我一点儿都不明白。”
　　麦克沃特不为所动地说道：
　　“你并不需要弄明白，”他抓起她的手，诚恳地摇了摇，“对于你这么配合我实在是感激不尽啊。”
　　随后他便径直走出了前门，留下玛丽在那里纳闷儿她究竟是不是在做梦！
　　没一会儿工夫，内维尔和托马斯就从外面进来了，之后不久，车也开回来了，看到凯和特德还能那么兴高采烈，玛丽发现自己心里有些嫉妒。他们在一起又笑又闹，但她心想，说到底，这又有何不可呢？对凯而言，卡米拉•特雷西利安什么都不是。发生惨剧的这段日子对于一个开朗活泼的年轻人来说太难熬了。
　　警察到来的时候他们刚刚吃完午饭。赫尔斯多宣布巴特尔警司和利奇督察在客厅的时候，他的声音听上去就像是被吓到了。
　　巴特尔警司和颜悦色地与他们打着招呼。
　　“希望我没有打扰你们大家，”他语带歉意地说，“但是有一两件事我想要弄清楚。比如说，这只手套是谁的？”
　　他掏出一只小巧的黄色麂皮手套。
　　他对奥德丽说道：
　　“是你的吗，斯特兰奇太太？”
　　她摇了摇头。
　　“不……不，不是我的。”
　　“奥尔丁小姐呢？”
　　“我觉得不是。我没有这种颜色的。”
　　“我看看可以吗？”凯伸出手来，“不是。”“或许你可以戴上试试。”
　　凯试了一下，但是手套太小了。
　　“奥尔丁小姐？”
　　轮到玛丽试了。
　　“对你来说也太小了。”巴特尔说，他又转回到奥德丽那里，“我想你会发现这手套你戴着正合适。你的手比这里其他女士的手都要小。”奥德丽从他手里接过手套，轻而易举地戴在了右手上。
　　内维尔•斯特兰奇愤愤地说道：
　　“她已经告诉过你了，巴特尔，那不是她的手套。”
　　“啊哈，”巴特尔说，“也没准儿她搞错了呢。要不就是忘记了。”
　　奥德丽说：
　　“也可能是我的吧——手套长得都差不多，不是吗？”
　　巴特尔说：
　　“反正这只手套是在你窗子外面找到的，斯特兰奇太太，它被使劲塞在了下面的常春藤里——和另一只一起。”
　　一阵静默。奥德丽张了张嘴想说什么，接着就又闭上了。在警司坚定的注视之下，她的眼睛垂了下去。
　　内维尔跳上前来。“听我说，警司——”
　　“或许我们可以和你私下里谈谈吧，斯特兰奇先生？”巴特尔正色道。
　　“当然了，警司。到书房来吧。”
　　他在前面带路，两位警官尾随其后。
　　书房门一关上，内维尔就厉声说道：
　　“说什么手套是在我太太的窗外捡到的，这种荒唐的说法究竟是怎么回事儿？”
　　巴特尔平静地说：“斯特兰奇先生，我们在这栋房子里找到了一些非常奇怪的东西。”
　　内维尔眉头紧蹙。
　　“奇怪？你说的奇怪是什么意思？”
　　“我来让你看看。”
　　他一点头示意，利奇就离开了书房，回来的时候带着一件怪模怪样的工具。
　　巴特尔说：
　　“先生，你也看到了，这玩意儿的这部分是从维多利亚式壁炉围栏上卸下来的钢球——一个沉甸甸的钢球。而这是一把头被锯掉了的网球拍，钢球就拧在这个球拍的把手上。”他停顿了一下，“我想，毫无疑问，这就是用来杀死特雷西利安夫人的家伙。”
　　“太吓人了！”内维尔说着不由得颤抖了一下，“不过，你们是在哪儿找到这个……这个可怕的玩意儿的？”
　　“这个钢球被擦干净以后又安回了壁炉围栏。然而凶手大意了，没擦它的螺纹。我们在那上面发现了一点点血迹。同样地，把手和球拍头用手术时用的胶布重新粘在了一起。接着，球拍被随手扔在了楼梯下的储物间里，和那么多其他物品混放在一起，如果我们不是碰巧在找这种东西的话，它很可能就会一直在那儿被我们视而不见了。”
　　“你们真聪明，警司。”
　　“只是例行公事罢了。”
　　“我猜，上面没有指纹吧？”
　　“根据它的重量，我想这把球拍大概是属于凯•斯特兰奇太太的，她用过你也用过，你们俩的指纹都在上面。不过有确定无疑的迹象表明，在你们用过之后，有人戴着手套拿过它。上面只有一个指纹——我想，是这次粗心大意留下的。指纹是在用来把球拍重新粘好的手术胶布上找到的。现在我还不打算说这是谁留下的，因为我有其他的几件事要先提一提。”
　　巴特尔停顿了一下，接着说道：
　　“我想让你做好接受打击的思想准备，斯特兰奇先生。而首先我要问你些事情。你就那么肯定这次聚会是你自己的主意，而不是奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太向你建议的吗？”
　　“奥德丽没做过这种事。奥德丽她——”
　　说话之间门开了，托马斯•罗伊德走了进来。
　　“抱歉打扰你们了，”他说，“不过我觉得我也要加入。”
　　内维尔扭脸看着他，一脸厌烦。
　　“老兄，你能先回避一下吗？我们这可是私人谈话。”
　　“恐怕我顾不了那么多了。你瞧，我在外面听到了一个名字，”他顿了一下，“奥德丽的名字。”
　　“奥德丽的名字跟你又有哪门子关系？”内维尔的火气上来了。
　　“哦，要这么说的话，她的名字跟你又有什么关系呢？尽管我还没有跟奥德丽明说，但我来这里就是打算请她嫁给我的，而且我认为她也知道这件事。不管怎么说，我就是想娶她。”
　　巴特尔警司咳嗽了几声。内维尔猛地转向他。
　　“对不起，警司。他这么打断我们——”
　　巴特尔说：
　　“我倒无所谓，斯特兰奇先生。我还有个问题要问你。谋杀案发生的那天晚上，你吃晚饭时穿的那件深蓝色外衣领子里面和肩膀上怎么会有一些金色的头发呢？你知道是怎么弄上去的吗？”
　　“我想那是我的头发。”
　　“噢，不是的，那些不是你的头发，先生。那是一位女士的头发，而且在袖子上还有一根红色的头发。”
　　“我想那是我太太的——凯的头发。你刚刚提到的其他那些，是奥德丽的吧。很可能是。我想起来了，有一天晚上在外面的露台上，我的袖扣缠上了她的头发。”
　　“那样说的话，”利奇督察小声嘟囔道，“金发就应该在袖口上。”
　　“你到底想暗示什么？”内维尔叫道。
　　“在外衣的领子内面，还有一点点粉末的痕迹，”巴特尔说，“那是普丽马维拉的天然一号——一种价格昂贵又极其好闻的香粉——斯特兰奇先生，你可别告诉我那是你用的，因为你说了我也不信。而斯特兰奇太太用的是兰花太阳之吻。奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太用的才是普丽马维拉的天然一号。”
　　“你在暗示什么？”内维尔又问道。
　　巴特尔倾身向前。
　　“我是在暗示——奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太在某个场合下穿过那件外衣。这也是会在衣服上发现头发和香粉唯一合理的解释。而你刚才也看到了我拿给你们的手套吧？那毫无疑问是她的手套。那只是右手的，左手的在这儿。”说着他从口袋里掏出了手套放在桌上。手套皱皱巴巴的，上面有一些深褐色的污迹。
　　内维尔用带着恐惧的声音问道：“那上面是什么？”
　　“是血，斯特兰奇先生，”巴特尔不容辩驳地说道，“而且你也注意到了，这只是左手的。奥德丽•斯特兰奇太太是个左撇子。我一看见她的时候就注意到了，那时她坐在早餐桌旁，咖啡杯端在右手上，左手拿着烟。而她写字桌上的笔盘也被挪到了左手边。这就都能对上号了。她壁炉围栏上的球形把手，她窗外的手套，还有外衣上的头发和香粉。特雷西利安夫人被人打中的地方是右侧太阳穴——但是床摆放的位置又让人不可能站在它的左边。由此可以推断出如果用右手给特雷西利安夫人脑袋来一下的话是极其别扭的——但对于一个左撇子来说可就是再自然不过的事情了……”
　　内维尔轻蔑地笑了笑。
　　“你是在暗示说奥德丽……奥德丽会为了要得到那个与她相识多年的老太太的钱，就处心积虑地做好这一切准备，并且要了她的命吗？”
　　巴特尔摇了摇头。
　　“我暗示的完全不是这个意思。很抱歉，斯特兰奇先生，非得让你弄明白这到底是怎么回事儿不可了。这桩案子自始至终所指向的人都是你。自从你弃她而去的那一刻起，奥德丽•斯特兰奇就一直耿耿于怀，伺机报复。最终她的心态已经失衡了。或许她的心理从来就没有强大过。没准儿她想过要杀掉你，不过那还不够。她最后考虑要陷你于谋杀之名，让你上绞架。她选择在她知道你刚刚和特雷西利安夫人发生了争执的那天晚上下手。她从你的卧室里拿走了你的外衣，穿着它打倒了老夫人，这样一来衣服就会溅上血迹。她知道我们会在你那根铁头球杆上发现你的指纹，于是就把血迹和头发抹到球杆头上，然后放在地板上。是她向你灌输了那个想法，就是让你专挑她在这里的时候也来这里。而只有一件事她没有预料到，也正是这件事救了你一命——特雷西利安夫人拉过铃找芭雷特，而芭雷特看见你离开了这栋房子。”
　　内维尔刚才一直把脸埋在双手之中，此时他说道：
　　“这不是真的。这不是真的！奥德丽对我从来没有过恨意。你把整件事都搞错了。她是个最最坦诚、最最真挚的人了——她的内心不会有一丝歹念的。”
　　巴特尔叹了口气。
　　“我不是来这儿和你争辩的，斯特兰奇先生。我只是想让你做好准备。我会向斯特兰奇太太提出警告，让她跟我走。我已经得到了拘捕令。你最好考虑一下给她请个律师。”
　　“这太荒唐了。简直是荒谬绝伦。”
　　“爱变成恨比你想象的要简单得多，斯特兰奇先生。”
　　“我告诉你完全搞错了——荒唐透顶。”
　　托马斯•罗伊德插话了。他的声音听上去平静而友善。
　　“别老再说这件事很荒唐了，内维尔。你镇静一些。你还不明白对你来说现在要想帮助奥德丽，唯一能做的就是放下你那套骑士精神，把事实真相说出来吗？”
　　“事实真相？你是说——”
　　“我是说关于奥德丽和艾德里安的真相。”罗伊德说着转向了两位警官，“知道吗，警司，你把事实搞错了。内维尔并没有离开奥德丽，而是奥德丽离开了他。她和我弟弟艾德里安私奔了。后来艾德里安在一起车祸中丧了命。内维尔对奥德丽表现出了无与伦比的骑士风度。他安排好让奥德丽跟自己离婚，而他自己去承受别人的责备。”
　　“不想让她名誉扫地，”内维尔闷闷不乐地低声说道，“我不知道还有别人知道这件事。”
　　“艾德里安写下来告诉我了，就在出事之前，”托马斯一语点破，然后接着说道，“你还不明白吗，警司，这样一来你所说的动机就不成立了！奥德丽没有道理去恨内维尔。恰恰相反，她有一万个理由对他心存感激。他还试图让她接受一份抚养费，只是她一直都不肯接受。所以很自然地，当他想让她到这儿来并且见见凯的时候，她觉得她没法拒绝。”
　　“你看，”内维尔急不可耐地插嘴说道，“这就使得她没有动机了。托马斯说得对。”
　　巴特尔那张木雕脸仍然不为所动。
　　“动机只是一方面，”他说，“关于这点我也有可能搞错了。不过事实则是另一回事。所有的事实都表明她有罪。”
　　内维尔意味深长地说：
　　“就在两天前，所有的事实都还表明是我有罪呢！”
　　巴特尔显得有一点点吃惊。
　　“你说得也没错。不过我们就来看看你想让我相信些什么吧，斯特兰奇先生。你想要让我相信有某个人痛恨你们两个人——一旦指向你的计划落空了，这个人还有第二手棋，就是把矛头指向奥德丽•斯特兰奇。那么现在你能不能想一想，斯特兰奇先生，有什么人既恨你又恨你前妻吗？”
　　内维尔再一次把脸埋进了手掌里。
　　“听你这么一说，这件事简直太荒诞离奇了！”
　　“因为它本来就荒诞离奇。我不得不遵从事实。如果斯特兰奇太太有什么要解释的话——”
　　“我有什么要解释的吗？”内维尔问道。
　　“没有，斯特兰奇先生。我得履行我的职责。”
　　巴特尔猝然起身。他和利奇先离开了房间。内维尔和罗伊德紧跟在他们后面。
　　他们穿过大厅来到客厅里，在那里停下了脚步。
　　奥德丽•斯特兰奇站起身，迎着他们走上前来。她直直地看着巴特尔，双唇微启，就像是挂着一抹微笑。
　　她极其轻柔地说道：
　　“你要找我，对吗？”
　　巴特尔变得非常正式起来。
　　“斯特兰奇太太，我手里有张拘捕令，我将以在九月十二日星期一谋杀卡米拉•特雷西利安的罪名逮捕你。我必须提醒你，你所说的任何一句话都将被记录在案，并且可能被用作呈堂证供。”
　　奥德丽叹了口气。她那张轮廓清晰的小脸平静而纯真，有如一幅浮雕。
　　“这几乎是种解脱了。我真高兴这一切都——结束了！”
　　内维尔跃上前来。
　　“奥德丽——什么都别说——根本不要开口。”
　　她冲他莞尔一笑。
　　“可是为什么不说呢，内维尔？都是事实啊——我太累了。”
　　利奇深吸一口气。好吧，就是这样了。当然，这一切简直太疯狂，不过这一来倒也省去了很多烦恼。他心里有些纳闷舅舅是怎么回事儿。那老伙计看上去就跟见了鬼似的，直勾勾地盯着那个精神错乱的女人，仿佛无法相信自己的眼睛。哦，算了吧，这是件有趣的案子，利奇惬意地想道。
　　然后就是一个几乎有些怪诞而令人扫兴的结局，赫尔斯多打开客厅的门宣布道：“麦克沃特先生来了。”
　　麦克沃特大踏步走进屋里，他目标明确地直奔巴特尔而来。“你是负责特雷西利安案件的警官吗？”他问道。
　　“我是。”
　　“我有很重要的话要说。我很抱歉没有早点儿过来，星期一晚上我碰巧看到了一些事情，只不过这些事情的重要性我也是刚刚才弄明白。”他迅速环顾了一下屋子。“我能找个地方跟你说吗？”
　　巴尔特转向利奇。
　　“你和斯特兰奇太太一起待在这儿好吗？”
　　利奇一本正经地说道：“是，长官。”
　　接着他俯身向前，对着巴特尔耳语了几句。巴特尔转向麦克沃特：“来这边。”
　　他带路走进了书房。
　　“那么，这一切又是怎么回事儿？我的同事告诉我说他以前见过你，去年冬天吧？”
　　“一点儿没错，”麦克沃特说，“企图自杀。那是我故事的一部分。”
　　“继续讲，麦克沃特先生。”
　　“今年一月我曾经试图从斯塔克岬上跳下去自杀。而此刻我又一时兴起想要故地重游。
　　星期一晚上我走到了那上面，还在那儿站了一会儿。我先是看着下方的海面以及对岸的复活节海湾，然后我往我的左手边看了看。换句话说，我向这栋房子的方向看了过来。在月光之下，我可以看得一清二楚。”
　　“是啊。”
　　“直到今天我才意识到那正是谋杀案发生的当晚。”
　　他倾身向前。“我要告诉你我看到了什么。”
精明的幕后黑手（16）
　　16
　　巴特尔回到客厅的时候其实真的只是过了五分钟而已，但对于留在那里的人来说这段时间就显得漫长多了。
　　凯的情绪突然失控了，她冲着奥德丽大喊大叫。
　　“我就知道是你。我一直都知道是你。我就知道你打算要干点儿什么——”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁旋即说道：
　　“别再说了，凯。”
　　内维尔怒斥道：
　　“看在老天爷的分上，闭嘴吧，凯。”
　　凯开始哭泣起来，特德•拉蒂默走到她的身边。
　　“控制一下自己的情绪。”他和蔼亲切地说道。
　　随后他对着内维尔气冲冲地说：
　　“你看起来并没有意识到凯一直以来都处在重重压力之下吧！为什么你就不能照顾她一点儿呢，斯特兰奇？”
　　“我没事。”凯说。
　　“我真恨不得，”特德说，“把你带走，离这帮人远远的！”
　　利奇督察清了清嗓子。他很清楚，每每到这种时候，就会有人站出来说上一大堆不走脑子的话。不幸的是，这些话在事后还偏偏会被人不嫌麻烦地牢牢记住。
　　巴特尔回到屋里，脸上不带一丝表情。
　　他说：“你能去收拾几件东西吗，斯特兰奇太太？恐怕利奇督察必须要跟你一起上楼去。”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁说：“我也去。”
　　当两个女人和督察一起离开房间之后，内维尔急切地问道：“呃，那个家伙想要干什么？”
　　巴特尔慢条斯理地说：
　　“麦克沃特先生讲了一个非常离奇的故事。”
　　“对奥德丽有帮助吗？你还是下定决心要逮捕她？”
　　“我已经告诉过你了，斯特兰奇先生。我必须履行我的职责。”
　　内维尔转过头去，一脸的急切消失殆尽。
　　他说：“我想，我最好给特里劳尼打个电话。”
　　“现在还不用着急干这个，斯特兰奇先生。鉴于麦克沃特先生的证词，我想先做个试验。在那之前我要先确保斯特兰奇太太离开。”
　　奥德丽正走下楼来，利奇督察陪在她身边。她的脸上依然是那副超然而镇静的表情，显得遥不可及。
　　内维尔向她走了过去，双臂张开。
　　“奥德丽——”
　　她用了无生气的眼神扫了他一眼，说道：
　　“没什么了不起的，内维尔。我不在意。我什么都不在意。”托马斯•罗伊德站在前门旁边，几乎就像是要挡住去路一般。
　　她的唇上泛过一抹淡淡的微笑。
　　“忠实的托马斯。”她悄声道。
　　他有些含混不清地说道：“如果有什么我能做的——”
　　“谁也做不了什么。”奥德丽说。
　　她昂首走了出去。一辆警车等在外面，琼斯警长坐在车里。奥德丽和利奇上了车。
　　特德•拉蒂默赞赏地低声说道：
　　“多么动人的退场啊！”
　　内维尔怒气冲冲地转向他。巴特尔警司这个大块头马上身手敏捷地站到了两人之间，息事宁人地说道：
　　“如我所言，我还有个试验要做呢。麦克沃特先生正在渡口那边等着。我们要在十分钟之内赶到他那里。我们要乘汽艇出去，所以女士们最好穿暖和点儿。十分钟之内，请抓紧时间。”
　　他可能能当好一个舞台监督，指挥一个剧团登台表演。而至于他们茫然无措的表情，他压根儿就置之脑后了。
　　[1]一种可以治疗便秘的药物。
　　[2]法国民间故事中的人物，传说他曾经连续杀死了自己的六任妻子。
　　[3]用于形容风险很低的优质证券，因英国政府最初发行的债券票面的边缘为金色而得名。
　　[4]英国著名作家，曾于一九〇七年获诺贝尔文学奖。
　　[5]产于非洲的一种毒蛇，属眼镜蛇科，被认为是全世界最致命的蛇。
Zero Hour（2）
　　II
　　"I was always frightened," said Audrey.
　　They were sitting on the terrace. Audrey sat close to Superintendent Battle. Battle had resumed his holiday and was at Gull's Point as a friend.
　　"Always frightened - all the time," said Audrey.
　　Battle said, nodding his head: "I knew you were dead scared first moment I saw you. And you'd got that colourless, reserved way people have who are holding some very strong emotion in check. It might have been love or hate, but actually it was fear, wasn't it?"She nodded.
　　"I began to be afraid of Nevile soon after we were married. But the awful thing is, you see, that I didn't know why. I began to think that I was mad.""It wasn't you," said Battle.
　　"Nevile seemed to me when I married him so particularly sane and normal -always delightfully good-tempered and pleasant.""Interesting," said Battle. "He played the part of the good sportsman, you know. That's why he could keep his temper so well at tennis. His role as a good sportsman was more important to him than winning matches. But it put a strain upon him, of course; playing a part always does. He got worse underneath.""Underneath," whispered Audrey with a shudder. "Always underneath. Nothing you could get hold of. Just sometimes a word or a look and then I'd fancy I'd imagined it ... Something queer. And then, as I say, I thought I must be queer. And I went on getting more and more afraid - the kind of unreasoning fear, you know, that makes you sick!""I told myself I was going mad. That I couldn't help it I felt I'd do anything in the world to get away! And then Adrian came and told me he loved me, and I thought it would be wonderful to go away with him, and he said ..."She stopped.
　　"You know what happened? I went off to meet Adrian - he never came ... he was killed ... I felt as though Nevile had managed it, somehow.""Perhaps he did," said Battle. Audrey turned a startled face to him. "Oh, do you think so?""We'll never know now. Motor accidents can be arranged. Don't brood on it, though, Mrs. Strange. As likely as not, it just happened naturally.""I -I was all broken up. I went back to the Rectory - Adrian's home. We were to have written to his mother, but as she didn't know about us, I thought I wouldn't tell her and give her pain. And Nevile came almost at once. He was very nice -and kind - and all the time I talked to him I was quite sick with fear! He said no one need know about Adrian, that I could divorce him on evidence he would send me and that he was going to remarry afterwards. I felt so thankful. I knew he had thought Kay attractive and I hoped that everything would turn out right and that I should get over this queer obsession of mine. I still thought it must be me.""But I couldn't get rid of it - quite. I never felt I'd really escaped. And then I met Nevile in the Park one day and he explained that he did so want me and Kay to be friends and suggested that we should all come here in September. I couldn't refuse - how could I? After all the kind things he'd done.""'Will you walk into my parlour? Said the spider to the fly,'" remarked Superintendent Battle.
　　Audrey shivered. "Yes, just that ..."
　　"Very clever he was about that," said Battle. "Protested so loudly to everyone that it was his idea, that everyone at once got the impression that it wasn't."Audrey said: "And then I got here - and it was like a kind of nightmare. I knew something awful was going to happen -I knew Nevile meant it to happen - and that it was to happen to me. But I didn't know what it was. I think, you know, that I nearly did go off my head! I was just paralysed with fright - like you are in a dream when something's going to happen and you can't move ...""I've always thought," said Superintendent Battle, "that I'd like to have seen a snake fascinate a bird so that it can't fly away - but now I'm not so sure."Audrey went on.
　　"Even when Lady Tressilian was killed I didn't realise what it meant. I was puzzled. I didn't even suspect Nevile. I knew he didn't care about money - it was absurd to think he'd kill her in order to inherit fifty thousand pounds.""I thought over and over again about Mr. Treves and the story he had told that evening. Even then I didn't connect it with Nevile. Treves had mentioned some physical peculiarity by which he could recognise the child of long ago. I've got a scar on my ear, but I don't think anyone else has any sign that you'd notice."Battle said: "Miss Aldin has a lock of white hair. Thomas Royde has a stiff right arm, which might not have been only the result of an earthquake. Mr. Ted Latimer has rather an odd-shaped skull. And Nevile Strange -"He paused.
　　"Surely there was no physical peculiarity about Nevile?""Oh, yes, there was. His left-hand little finger is shorter than his right. That's very unusual, Mrs. Strange - very unusual indeed.""So that was it?"
　　"That was it."
　　"And Nevile hung that sign on the lift?"
　　"Yes. Nipped down there and back whilst Royde and Latimer were giving the old boy drinks. Clever and simple - doubt if we could ever prove that was murder."Audrey shivered again.
　　"Now, now," said Battle. "It's all over now, my dear. Go on talking.""You're very clever ... I haven't talked so much for years!""No, that's what's been wrong. When did it first dawn on you what Master Nevile's game was?""I don't know exactly. It came to me all at once. He himself had been cleared and that left all of us. And then, suddenly, I saw him looking at me - a sort of gloating look. And I knew! That was when -" She stopped abruptly.
　　"That was when what - ?"
　　Audrey said slowly: "When I thought a quick way out would be - best."Superintendent Battle shook his head.
　　"Never give in. That's my motto."
　　"Oh, you're quite right. But you don't know what it does to you being so afraid for so long. It paralyses you - you can't think - you can't plan - you just wait for something awful to happen. And then, when it does happen" - she gave a sudden, quick smile - "you'd be surprised at the relief! No more waiting and fearing - it's come. You'll think I'm quite demented, I suppose, if I tell you that when you came to arrest me for murder I didn't mind at all. Nevile had done his worst and it was over. I felt so safe going off with Inspector Leach.""That's partly why we did it," said Battle. "I wanted you out of that madman's reach. And besides, if I wanted to break him down I wanted to be able to count on the shock of the reaction. He'd seen his plan come off, as he thought - so the jolt would be all the greater.""If he hadn't broken down would there have been any evidence?""Not too much. There was MacWhirter's story of seeing a man climb up a rope in the moonlight. And there was the rope itself confirming his story, coiled up in the attic and still faintly damp. It was raining that night, you know."He paused and stared hard at Audrey as though he were expecting her to say something.
　　As she merely looked interested he went on: "And there was the pinstripe suit. He stripped, of course, in the dark on that rocky point on the Easterhead Bay side, and thrust his suit into a niche in the rock. As it happened, he put it down on a decayed bit of fish washed up by the flood tide. It made a stained patch on the shoulder - and it smelt. There was some talk, I found out, about the drains being wrong in the hotel. Nevile himself put that story about. He'd got his raincoat on over his suit, but the smell was a pervasive one. Then he got the wind up about that suit afterwards and at the first opportunity he took it off to the cleaners and, like a fool, didn't give his own name. Took a name at random, actually one he'd seen in the hotel register. That's how your friend got hold of it and, having a good head on him, he linked it up with the man climbing up the rope. You step on decayed fish, but you don't put your shoulder down on it unless you have taken your clothes off to bathe at night, and no one would bathe for pleasure on a wet night in September. He fitted the whole thing together. Very ingenious man, Mr. MacWhirter.""More than ingenious," said Audrey.
　　"M'm, well, perhaps. Like to know about him? I can tell you something of his history."Audrey listened attentively. Battle found her a good listener. She said: "I owe a lot to him - and to you.""Don't owe very much to me," said Superintendent Battle. "If I hadn't been a fool I'd have seen the point of that bell.""Bell? What bell?"
　　"The bell in Lady Tressilian's room. Always did feel there was something wrong about that bell. I nearly got it, too, when I came down the stairs from the top floor and saw one of those poles you open windows with.""That was the whole point of the bell, see - to give Nevile Strange an alibi. Lady T. didn't remember what she had rung for - of course she didn't, because she hadn't rung at all! Nevile rang the bell from outside in the passage with that long pole; the wires ran along the ceiling. So down comes Barrett and sees Mr. Nevile Strange go downstairs and out, and she finds Lady Tressilian alive and well. The whole business of the maid was fishy. What's the good of doping her for a murder that's going to be committed before midnight! Ten to one she won't have gone off properly by then. But it fixes the murder as an inside job, and it allows a little time for Nevile to play his role of first suspect - then Barrett speaks and Nevile is so triumphantly cleared that no one is going to inquire very closely as to exactly what time he got to the hotel. We know he didn't cross back by ferry, and no boats had been taken. There remained the possibility of swimming. He was a powerful swimmer, but even then the time must have been short. Up the rope he's left hanging into his bedroom and a good deal of water on the floor, as we noticed (but without seeing the point, I'm sorry to say). Then into his blue coat and trousers, along to Lady Tressilian's room - we won't go into that -wouldn't have taken more than a couple of minutes; he'd fixed up that steel ball beforehand - then back, out of his clothes, down the rope and back to Easterhead.""Suppose Kay had come in?"
　　"She'd been mildly doped, I'll bet. She was yawning from dinner on, so they tell me. Besides, he'd taken care to have a quarrel with her, so that she'd lock her door and keep out of his way.""I'm trying to think if I noticed the ball was gone from the fender. I don't think I did. When did he put it back?""Next morning when all the hullabaloo arose. Once he got back in Ted Latimer's car, he had all night to clear up his traces and fix things, mend the tennis racquet, etc. By the way, he hit the old lady backhanded, you know. That's why the crime appeared to be left-handed. Strange's backhand was always his strong point, remember!""Don't - don't" - Audrey put up her hands. "I can't bear any more." He smiled at her.
　　"All the same, it's done you good to talk it all out. Mrs. Strange, may I be impertinent and give you some advice?""Yes, please."
　　"You lived for eight years with a criminal lunatic - that's enough to sap any woman's nerves. But you've got to snap out of it now, Mrs. Strange. You don't need to be afraid any more - and you've got to make yourself realise that."Audrey smiled at him. The frozen look had gone from her face; it was a sweet, rather timid, but confiding face, with the wide-apart eyes full of gratitude.
　　She said, hesitating a little: "You told the others there was a girl - a girl who acted as I did?"Battle slowly nodded his head.
　　"My own daughter," he said. "So you see, my dear, that miracle had to happen. These things are sent to teach us!"
Zero Hour（1）
　　Zero Hour
　　I
　　It was chilly on the water and Kay hugged the little fur jacket she was wearing closer round her.
　　The launch chugged down the river below Gull's Point, and then swung round into the little bay that divided Gull's Point from the frowning mass of Stark Head.
　　Once or twice a question began to be asked, but each time Superintendent Battle held up a large hand rather like a cardboard ham, intimating that the time had not come yet. So the silence was unbroken save for the rushing of the water past them. Kay and Ted stood together looking down into the water. Nevile was slumped down, his legs stuck out. Mary Aldin and Thomas Royde sat up in the bows. And one and all glanced from time to time curiously at the tall, aloof figure of MacWhirter by the stern. He looked at none of them, but stood with his back turned and his shoulders hunched up.
　　Not until they were under the frowning shadow of Stark Head did Battle throttle down the engine and begin to speak his piece. He spoke without self-consciousness and in a tone that was more reflective than anything else.
　　"This has been a very odd case - one of the oddest I've ever known, and I'd like to say something on the subject of murder generally. What I'm going to say is not original - actually I overheard young Mr. Daniels, the K.C., say something of the kind, and I wouldn't be surprised if he'd got it from someone else - he'd a trick of doing that!
　　"It's this! When you read the account of a murder - or, say, a fiction story based on murder - you usually begin with the murder itself. That's all wrong. The murder begins a long time beforehand. A murder is the culmination of a lot of different circumstances, all converging at a given moment at a given point. People are brought into it from different parts of the globe and for unforeseen reasons. Mr. Royde is here from Malaya. Mr. MacWhirter is here because he wanted to revisit a spot where he once tried to commit suicide. The murder itself is the end of the story. It's Zero Hour!"He paused. "It's Zero Hour now."
　　Five faces were turned to him - only five, for MacWhirter did not turn his head. Five puzzled faces.
　　Mary Aldin said: "You mean that Lady Tressilian's death was the culmination of a long train of circumstances?""No, Miss Aldin, not Lady Tressilian's death. Lady Tressilian's death was only incidental to the main object of the murderer. The murder I am talking of is the murder of Audrey Strange."He listened to the sharp indrawing of breath. He wondered if, suddenly, someone was afraid ...
　　"This crime was planned quite a long time ago - probably as early as last winter. It was planned down to the smallest detail. It had one object, and one object only: that Audrey Strange should be hanged by the neck till she was dead ...""It was very cunningly planned by someone who thought themselves very clever. Murderers are usually vain. There was first the superficial unsatisfactory evidence against Nevile Strange which we were meant to see through. But, having been presented with one lot of faked evidence, it was not considered likely that we should consider a second edition of the same thing. And yet, if you come to look at it, all the evidence against Audrey Strange could be faked. The weapon taken from her fireplace, her gloves - the left-hand glove dipped in blood - hidden in the ivy outside her window. The powder she uses dusted on the inside of a coat collar, and a few hairs placed there, too. Her own fingerprint, occurring quite naturally on a roll of adhesive plaster taken from her room. Even the left-handed nature of the blow.""And there was the final damning evidence of Mrs. Strange herself -I don't believe there's one of you (except the one who knows) who can credit her innocence after the way she behaved when we took her into custody. Practically admitted her guilt, didn't she? I mightn't have believed in her being innocent myself if it hadn't been for a private experience of my own ... Struck me right between the eyes, it did, when I saw and heard her - because, you see, I'd known another girl who did that very same thing, who admitted guilt when she wasn't guilty - and Audrey Strange was looking at me with that other girl's eyes ...""I'd got to do my duty. I knew that. We police officers have to act on evidence -not on what we feel and think. But I can tell you that at that minute I prayed for a miracle - because I didn't see that anything but a miracle was going to help that poor lady.""Well, I got my miracle. Got it right away!""'Mr. MacWhirter, here, turned up with his story."He paused.
　　"Mr. MacWhirter, will you repeat what you told me up at the house?"MacWhirter turned. He spoke in short, sharp sentences that carried conviction just because of their conciseness.
　　He told of his rescue from the cliff the preceding January and of his wish to revisit the scene. He went on: "I went up there on Monday night. I stood there lost in my own thoughts. It must have been, I suppose, in the neighbourhood of eleven o'clock. I looked across at that house on the point - Gull's Point, as I know it now to be."He paused and then went on: "There was a rope hanging from a window of that house into the sea. I saw a man climbing up that rope ..."Just a moment elapsed before they took it in. Mary Aldin cried out: "Then it was an outsider after all? It was nothing to do with any of us. It was an ordinary burglar!""Not quite so fast," said Battle. "It was someone who came from the other side of the river, yes, since he swam across. But someone in the house had to have the rope ready for him, therefore someone inside must have been concerned."He went on slowly: "And we know of someone who was on the other side of the river that night - someone who wasn't seen between ten-thirty and a quarter-past eleven, and who might have been swimming over and back. Someone who might have had a friend on this side of the water."He added: "Eh, Mr. Latimer?"
　　Ted took a step backward. He cried out shrilly: "But I can't swim! Everybody knows I can't swim. Kay, tell them I can't swim.""Of course Ted can't swim!" Kay cried. "Is that so?" asked Battle pleasantly.
　　He moved along the boat as Ted moved in the other direction. There was some clumsy movement and a splash.
　　"Dear me," said Superintendent Battle in deep concern. "Mr. Latimer's gone overboard."His hand closed like a vice on Nevile's arm as the latter was preparing to jump in after him.
　　"No, no, Mr. Strange. No need for you to get yourself wet. There are two of my men handy - fishing in the dinghy there." He peered over the side of the boat. "It's quite true," he said with interest. "He can't swim. It's all right. They've got him. I'll apologise presently, but, really, there's only one way to make quite sure that a person can't swim and that's to throw them in and watch. You see, Mr. Strange, I like to be thorough. I had to eliminate Mr. Latimer first. Mr. Royde, here, has got a groggy arm; he couldn't do any rope-climbing."Battle's voice took on a purring quality.
　　"So that brings us to you, doesn't it, Mr. Strange? A good athlete, a mountain climber, a swimmer, and all that. You went over on the 10.30 ferry all right, but no one can swear to seeing you at the Easterhead Hotel until a quarter-past eleven in spite of your story of having been looking for Mr. Latimer then."Nevile jerked his arm away. He threw back his head and laughed. "You suggest that I swam across the river and climbed op a rope -" "Which you had left ready hanging from your window," said Battle.
　　"Killed Lady Tressilian and swam back again? Why should I do such a fantastic thing? And who laid all those clues against me? I suppose I laid them against myself?""Exactly," said Battle. "And not half a bad idea, either." "And why should I want to kill Camilla Tressilian?""You didn't," said Battle. "But you did want to hang the woman who left you for another man. You're a bit unhinged mentally, you know. Have been ever since you were a child - I've looked up that old bow and arrow case, by the way. Anyone who does you an injury has to be punished - and death doesn't seem to you an excessive penalty for them to pay. Death by itself wasn't enough for Audrey - your Audrey whom you loved - oh, yes, you loved her all right, before your love turned to hate. You had to think of some special kind of death, some long-drawn-out specialised death. And when you'd thought of it, the fact that it entailed the killing of a woman who had been something like a mother to you didn't worry you in the least ..."Nevile said, and his voice was quite gentle: "All lies! All lies! And I'm not mad. I'm not mad."Battle said contemptuously: "Flicked you on the raw, didn't she, when she went off and left you for another man? Hurt your vanity? To think she should walk out on you. You salved your pride by pretending to the world at large that you'd left her and you married another girl who was in love with you just to bolster up that belief. But underneath you planned what you'd do to Audrey. You couldn't think of anything worse than this - to get her hanged. A fine idea - pity you hadn't the brains to carry it out better!"Nevile's tweed-coated shoulders moved, a queer, wriggling movement.
　　Battle went on: "Childish - all that niblick stuff! Those crude trails pointing to you! Audrey must have known what you were after! She must have laughed up her sleeve! Thinking I didn't suspect you! You murderers are funny little fellows! So puffed up. Always thinking you've been clever and resourceful and really being quite pitifully childish ..."It was a strange, queer scream that came from Nevile.
　　"It was a clever idea - it was. You'd never have guessed. Never! Not if it hadn't been for this interfering jackanapes, this pompous Scotch fool. I'd thought out every detail - every detail! I can't help what went wrong. How was I to know Royde knew the truth about Audrey and Adrian? Audrey and Adrian ... Curse Audrey - she shall hang - you've got to hang her -I want her to die afraid - to die - to die ... I hate her. I tell you I want her to die ..."The high, whinnying voice died away. Nevile slumped down and began to cry quietly.
　　"Oh, God," said Mary Aldin. She was white to the lips.
　　Battle said gently, in a low voice: "I'm sorry, but I had to push him over the edge ... There was precious little evidence, you know."Nevile was still whimpering. His voice was like a child's.
　　"I want her to be hanged. I do want her to be hanged ..."Mary Aldin shuddered and turned to Thomas Royde.
　　He took her hands in his.
零点时刻（1）
　　零点时刻
　　1
　　水面上很冷，凯把身上穿着的那件小毛皮夹克又裹紧了一些。
　　小艇突突地顺流而下，经过海鸥角下面之后转向进入了将其与面目狰狞的斯塔克岬分隔开的小海湾。
　　有那么一两次有人想开口问问题，但每一次巴特尔警司都会举起一只大手，暗示说时机未到，那副样子就像个蹩脚的演员。因此除了他们身边湍急的水声之外，所有人都默不作声。凯和特德站在一起低头看着水面。内维尔一屁股坐下来，两腿伸开。玛丽•奥尔丁和托马斯•罗伊德坐在船头。大家都时不时好奇地瞟上一眼在船尾的麦克沃特那高大而孤独的身影。他谁都不看，只是背冲着他们站在那里。
　　直到他们被笼罩在斯塔克岬的森森阴影之下，巴特尔才关小了发动机，开始说话。他说话的时候神态自若，口气中能听出他的深思熟虑。
　　“这是一桩非常离奇的案子——可以说是我所知道的最离奇的案件之一了，而我想先概括地谈一谈谋杀这个话题。我打算说的话并非我自己的独到见解——事实上我也是偶然从皇家律师丹尼尔斯先生那里听来的，他说过这类的话，而假如说他也是从别人那里听来的，我一点儿都不会意外——他很精于此道！
　　“话是这么说的！当你读到一份谋杀案的报告——或者说一本以谋杀为题材的小说的时候，你通常从一开始就会看到谋杀案本身。但这就完全搞错了。谋杀其实是在那之前很长时间就已经开始了。一场谋杀是由很多各不相同的事件在某一特定时间汇集于某一特定地点而达到的最高潮。人们因为各种偶然的原因被从四面八方召集而来，牵扯其中。罗伊德先生是从马来亚到这儿来的。麦克沃特先生来这里则是因为他曾经在此地试图自杀，这次想要旧地重游。而谋杀本身则是故事的结局，是零点时刻。”
　　他停顿了一下。
　　“现在就是零点时刻。”
　　五张脸转向他——只有五张，因为麦克沃特并没有转过头来。五张困惑不解的脸。
　　玛丽•奥尔丁说：
　　“你是说特雷西利安夫人的死是一长串事件发展到最后的高潮吗？”
　　“不，奥尔丁小姐，不是特雷西利安夫人的死。特雷西利安夫人的死只是凶手瞄准的主要目标之外的一个插曲。我正在说的谋杀是指对奥德丽•斯特兰奇的谋杀。”
　　他听着那倒抽一口冷气的声音。突然之间，他想知道是不是某人感到害怕了……“这桩罪行是相当长时间以前就计划好了的——或许能追溯到去年冬天。它策划周密，已经细致到了最小的细节。它有一个目标，也只有这一个目标：让奥德丽的脖子上套上绞索，直到她断气为止……
　　“这个狡猾的计划是某个自认为非常聪明的人精心策划的。杀人凶手通常都很自负。这个人首先安排一些不利于内维尔•斯特兰奇的表面上的证据，这些证据并不能让人满意，而我们也定然能够识破。但在看过这一大堆伪造的证据之后，估计我们应该不大可能会想到凶手或许会故伎重演了。然而，如果你们来看一下的话，就会发现所有不利于奥德丽•斯特兰奇的证据其实也都有可能是伪造的。从她房间里壁炉围栏上取下的凶器，她的手套——左手那只还沾上了血迹——就藏在她窗外的常春藤里。她用的香粉撒在外衣领子的内侧，同时那儿还有几根头发。她自己的指纹，出现在从她房间里拿到的一卷胶布上是再自然不过的事情。甚至还包括那致命的一击是由一个左撇子干的这一点。
　　“最后还有个最确凿的证据，就是斯特兰奇太太她自己——我相信这儿没有谁（除了那个知道真相的人）在看到我们逮捕她时她的表现之后还能相信她是无辜的。实际上她已经承认自己有罪了，不是吗？要不是因为我有一点个人经验的话，我自己大概也不会相信她的清白……当我看着她，听着她说话的时候，突然之间就想起了什么——因为你瞧，我认识另外一个女孩，她做过跟这极其相似的事情，她也是在自己明明无罪的情况下却认了罪——而奥德丽•斯特兰奇看着我的眼神就跟那个女孩看我的眼神一模一样……“我不得不履行我的职责，这一点我清楚。我们警察必须要根据证据办事——而不是依照我们的感觉和想法。但我可以告诉你们，在那一刻，我祈求会有奇迹降临——因为我不知道除了奇迹之外还有什么能够帮得上那位可怜的女士。
　　“好吧，我盼来了我的奇迹。说来就来了！
　　“就在这个时候，麦克沃特先生带着他的故事出现了。”
　　他顿了一下。
　　“麦克沃特先生，你愿意把在屋子里告诉我的事情再重复一遍吗？”
　　麦克沃特转回身来。他的话言简意赅，也正因如此才更有说服力。
　　他讲述了今年一月份他是如何被从悬崖上救下来，以及此番想要故地重游的愿望。接着他继续说道：
　　“星期一晚上我又去到那儿。我站在那里，沉浸在自己的思绪之中。我想，那时候肯定是在十一点钟左右。我看向海湾对岸的房子——现在我知道了那就是海鸥角。”
　　他停了一下，然后继续说下去。
　　“从那栋房子的一扇窗户中垂下来一条绳子直到海里。我看到一个男人正顺着绳子往上爬……”
　　过了那么一小会儿，他们才反应过来。玛丽•奥尔丁大叫道：
　　“那么到头来还是个外来人干的喽？跟我们中的任何人都毫不相干。就是个一般的夜贼啊！”
　　“别那么着急下结论，”巴特尔说，“这是某个从河对岸过来的人，没错，因为他是游过来的。但是屋子里的人必须得把绳子替他准备好，因此屋子里肯定有某个人跟案子有牵连。”
　　他继续慢条斯理地说道：
　　“而且我们知道有个人那天晚上在河对岸——某个在十点半到十一点一刻之间没人看见过，并且很可能在那期间游了个来回的人。某个很可能在河这边有个朋友的人。”
　　他又补了一句：“是吗，拉蒂默先生？”
　　特德后退了一步。他高声尖叫道：
　　“可我不会游泳啊！所有人都知道我不会游泳。凯，告诉他们我是不会游泳的。”
　　“特德当然不会游泳啦！”凯说。
　　“是这样吗？”巴特尔和蔼可亲地问道。
　　他沿着小艇的一边走过去，与此同时特德则向着另一个方向挪动起来。一阵手忙脚乱之后只听得扑通一声。
　　“天哪，”巴特尔警司深表关切地说道，“拉蒂默先生落水啦。”
　　说话间，他的手就像一只大钳子一样死死抓着内维尔的胳膊，而后者正准备要下水救人。
　　“不用，不用，斯特兰奇先生。你没必要把自己浑身弄得湿漉漉的。这附近就有两个我的人——在那边的小船上钓鱼呢。”他从船的一边看过去。“千真万确，”他兴味盎然地说道，“他不会游泳。没关系。他们已经把他救起来了。我马上就去跟他道歉，不过说真的，要想核实一个人到底会不会游泳只有一种方法，那就是把他扔到水里看看。你瞧，斯特兰奇先生，我喜欢严谨仔细一些。我必须先排除拉蒂默先生。而罗伊德先生的一只胳膊有毛病，他根本爬不了绳子。”
　　巴特尔的嗓音开始变得轻柔起来。
　　“这就让我们想到你了，不是吗，斯特兰奇先生？一个运动高手，一个登山家，一个游泳健将，诸如此类的吧。你乘十点半的渡船到对岸去不假，但在十一点一刻之前复活节海湾酒店里没人敢确定地说见过你，尽管你自己说那段时间你正在找拉蒂默先生。”
　　内维尔猛地挣脱他的胳膊，仰头大笑起来。
　　“你是在暗示说是我从河对岸游过来，又顺着绳子爬上去——”
　　“那是你事先备好的从自己窗户里垂下来的绳子。”巴特尔说。
　　“杀了特雷西利安夫人，然后再游回去？我为什么要干这种不着调的事儿？又是谁布下了那些不利于我的线索？我猜是我在陷害我自己吧？”
　　“正是如此，”巴特尔说，“而且这一招还真不赖呢。”
　　“那我又凭什么想要杀了卡米拉•特雷西利安？”
　　“你没想要杀她，”巴特尔说，“不过你的确想要让那个为了另一个男人而甩了你的女人上绞架。知道吗，你的心智有点儿错乱。打从你还是个孩子起就是这样了。顺便提一句，我查了一下那件关于弓箭的老案子。只要让你受了伤害，任何人都得受到惩处，而在你看来，死亡对于他们来说都算不上是一种过分的惩罚。光是死对奥德丽而言已经不够了。你的奥德丽，你所爱的人——噢，没错，在你由爱生恨之前你的的确确是爱她的。你不得不想出某种特别的死法，某种旷日持久的特殊死法。而当你想好了办法，就算需要为此去杀死一个一直以来待你如母亲的女人你也毫不在意……”
　　内维尔声音相当温和地说道：
　　“一派谎言！一派谎言！而我也没疯。我没疯。”
　　巴特尔鄙夷地说：
　　“她戳到你的痛处了，不是吗，当她和另一个男人私奔而甩了你的时候？伤了你的虚荣心！尤其一想到是她抛弃了你。你假装成是你甩了她，还让所有人都知道，以此来安抚一下你的自尊心，然后又和另一个爱上你的女孩结了婚，仅仅是为了给你这种说法加以佐证。然而背地里你却在盘算着怎么报复奥德丽。你想不出比这更恶毒的主意了——那就是送她上绞架。是个好主意——只可惜你没本事把它实施得更好些！”
　　穿着粗花呢大衣的内维尔肩膀扭动了一下，姿势很是奇怪。
　　巴特尔继续说道：
　　“幼稚极了，所有那些像铁头球杆之类的把戏！那一系列指向你的拙劣的线索！奥德丽肯定一直都知道你想要干什么！她一定在暗自发笑！还以为我没有怀疑你呢！你们这些杀人凶手都是些跳梁小丑！太自以为是了。总觉得自己聪明过人，足智多谋，而实际上却是幼稚得可怜……”
　　内维尔发出了一声怪异至极的尖叫。
　　“那是个绝妙的主意——那就是。要不是半路杀出那个苏格兰蠢货，自命不凡地横插一杠子的话，你们永远都猜不到。永远！我事先想好了每一个细节——每一个！中间出了差错我也没办法。我怎么会知道罗伊德了解奥德丽和艾德里安那件事的真相？奥德丽和艾德里安……该死的奥德丽——她就该被绞死——你们非得把她绞死不可——我要让她在恐惧中死去——去死吧——去死吧……我恨她。我告诉你们我就是要让她去死……”
　　高调的嘶吼逐渐平息。内维尔跌坐下来，开始无声饮泣。
　　“哦，天哪。”玛丽•奥尔丁说。她连嘴唇都已经发白了。
　　巴特尔低声温和地说道：
　　“我很抱歉，但我不得不让他抓狂——要知道，证据实在是太少了。”内维尔还在啜泣，那声音就像个孩子。
　　“我想让她被绞死。我真的想让她被绞死……”
　　玛丽•奥尔丁不由得战栗起来，她转向托马斯•罗伊德。
　　他握住了她的手。
零点时刻（2）
　　2
　　“我一直都提心吊胆的。”奥德丽说。
　　他们正坐在露台之上。奥德丽紧挨着巴特尔警司。巴特尔重又开始了他的假期，此刻他是以朋友身份造访海鸥角的。
　　“一直提心吊胆——无时无刻。”奥德丽说。
　　巴特尔点点头，说道：
　　“我第一眼见到你的时候就知道你害怕得要命。你那副不苟言笑、了无生气的样子我在其他压抑了某种强烈情感的人身上也见过。或许非爱即恨吧，但实际上那是恐惧，不是吗？”
　　她点了点头。
　　“我们结婚以后没多久我就开始害怕内维尔了。不过你知道吗，最糟糕的是我并不清楚究竟是为了什么。于是我开始以为是我发疯了。”
　　“发疯的不是你。”巴特尔说。
　　“我嫁给内维尔的时候他在我眼里特别理智，正常得没法再正常了——总是那么一副好脾气，和蔼可亲，招人喜欢。”
　　“有意思，”巴特尔说道，“你要知道，他扮演的是一个优秀运动员的角色。这也是为什么他能够在网球比赛中把自己的情绪控制得那么好。对他来说，一名优秀运动员的角色可比赢得比赛更重要。但是当然了，这也让他承受了不少压力；扮演角色总是这样的。他的内心也因此变得越来越坏。”
　　“内心深处，”奥德丽身子哆嗦了一下，低声说道，“一直都埋在心底深藏不露。让人什么都看不透。只是有时会有一句话或者一个眼神，然后我就以为都是我自己在臆测——有些地方不对劲儿。后来呢，如我所言，我觉得肯定是我自己哪儿不对劲儿了。而且我渐渐变得越来越害怕——你知道吗，是那种莫名的恐惧，令人毛骨悚然！
　　“我跟自己说我快要疯了——但我也无能为力。我觉得我可以不惜一切代价逃离！接着艾德里安就来了，他告诉我他爱我，我想要是能跟他走可真是太好了，而他说——”
　　她停了下来。
　　“你知道发生了什么吗？我离开家去赴艾德里安的约——但他一直都没来——他被杀害了——不知为什么我就是觉得仿佛那是内维尔一手策划的。”
　　“或许真的是他呢。”巴特尔说。
　　奥德丽扭过头来看着他，一脸错愕。
　　“噢，你真这么认为？”
　　“如今我们再也无从得知了。车祸其实是可以安排的。不过斯特兰奇太太，也别对这个想法太念念不忘了。很可能它就是自然发生的呢。”
　　“我……我整个人都崩溃了。我返回了教区长的住所——那是艾德里安的家。我俩正打算给他母亲写封信呢，不过既然她并不知道我们的事，我想就别告诉她让她徒增痛苦了。
　　而内维尔几乎是马上就来了。他简直太好了——宽厚仁慈——而我一直在对他讲恐惧让我有多难受！他说不用让任何人知道艾德里安的事，他会给我一些证据，我可以在此基础上跟他离婚，在那之后他会再婚。我心中感激不尽。我知道他一直觉得凯很妩媚动人，我也希望一切都会好起来，而这样我就可以摆脱掉自己这种稀奇古怪的执念了。我依然觉得肯定是我自己不对劲儿。
　　“但我还是有点儿——无法摆脱。我从未觉得自己真正逃离过。后来有一天我在海德公园里遇见了内维尔，他说他真的很想让我和凯成为朋友，并且提议我们可以在九月份的时候一起来这里。我无法拒绝，怎么可能拒绝呢？在他做了所有那些体贴入微的事情之后。”
　　“请君入瓮。”巴特尔评论道。
　　奥德丽不由得一激灵。
　　“是啊，正是这样……”
　　“在这件事情上他非常聪明，”巴特尔说，“对每个人都要大声申明那是他的主意，这样大家反倒会立刻产生一种实际上不是这么回事儿的印象。”
　　奥德丽说：
　　“然后我就来到这儿，就像是一场噩梦一样。我知道有什么可怕的事情即将发生，我也知道是内维尔存心要让它发生的，而且这件事将要发生在我身上。但我却不清楚究竟会是什么事。你知道吗，我觉得我真的快要疯掉了！我都被吓傻了，寸步难行。就仿佛你做梦梦见有什么事要发生，而你却动弹不得一样……”
　　“我还一直觉得，”巴特尔警司说，“我会愿意看到一条蛇把一只鸟震慑得飞都飞不起来了呢——不过现在我不那么确定了。”
　　奥德丽继续说道：
　　“甚至到了特雷西利安夫人死于非命的时候，我还是没有意识到那意味着什么。我很困惑。我甚至没有怀疑过内维尔。我知道他并不在乎钱——说他会为了继承五万英镑就把她杀死实在是有些荒唐离谱。
　　“关于特里夫斯先生以及那天晚上他讲的那个故事，我是一而再再而三地想了很多。就算这样，我也没把它跟内维尔联系在一起。特里夫斯提到过某种身体上的特征，凭借这个他就能认出很久以前的那个孩子。我的耳朵那儿倒是有块伤疤，可我没觉得其他任何一个人身上有什么能够引起别人注意的标记啊。”
　　巴特尔说：“奥尔丁小姐有一缕白发。托马斯•罗伊德有只胳膊是僵的，这可不一定仅仅是地震留下来的结果。特德•拉蒂默先生脑袋的形状有点儿怪。而内维尔•斯特兰奇——”他停顿了一下。
　　“内维尔身上肯定没有什么独特之处吧？”
　　“哦，不，他有。他左手的小手指比右手的短。这一点非常与众不同，斯特兰奇太太——真的是非常与众不同。”
　　“如此说来这就是那个特征？”
　　“这就是。”
　　“那么是内维尔把那个告示牌挂在了电梯上？”
　　“是的。趁着罗伊德和拉蒂默跟老爷子喝酒的时候，他迅速地打了个往返。既聪明又简单——我怀疑我们可能永远都证明不了那是一桩谋杀。”
　　奥德丽又打了个冷战。
　　“好了，好了，”巴特尔说，“现在这一切都过去了，亲爱的。接着说下去吧。”
　　“你太聪明了……我已经有很多年没说过这么多话了！”
　　“不！那正是症结所在。你是从什么时候开始逐渐看穿内维尔大师耍的把戏的？”
　　“确切的我也不太清楚。应该算是恍然大悟吧。他自己已经洗清了嫌疑，而剩下的是我们其他所有人。然后突然之间，我发现他在看着我，那是一种幸灾乐祸的眼神。接着我就知道了！也就是在那个时候——”
　　她猛然间停了下来。
　　“那个时候如何——”
　　奥德丽缓缓地说道：
　　“那个时候我想快刀斩乱麻是……最好的。”
　　巴特尔警司摇摇头。
　　“永不屈服。这是我的座右铭。”
　　“哦，你说得很对。不过你不知道处于那么担惊受怕的状态下那么久对我来说意味着什么。它让人变得麻痹。你没法思考，没法计划，你只能干等着某些可怕的事情降临。然后，当它果然降临之时——”她的脸上突然掠过一丝微笑，“你会很吃惊地发现解脱了！再也不用等待了，再也不用害怕了——它已经来了。我猜如果我告诉你，当你以谋杀的罪名来逮捕我的时候，我丝毫都不在意的话，你大概会觉得我是精神错乱了。内维尔已经把坏事做绝了，一切都结束了。当我跟着利奇督察一起离开的时候感觉是那么安全。”
　　“在一定程度上，这也是我们那么做的原因，”巴特尔说，“我想要让你脱离那个疯子的魔爪。除此之外，如果我要打垮他，也要指望这种反转带来的打击。按照他的想法，他已经亲眼看着他的计划得逞了——所以这种震惊的效果会更加明显。”
　　奥德丽低声说道：
　　“如果他没有崩溃的话还会有什么证据吗？”
　　“不太多。有麦克沃特先生关于在月色之下看到一个男人顺着绳子往上爬的故事。盘起来放在顶楼上的那根绳子可以证实他的故事，而且它还有点儿湿。你知道，那天晚上下雨了。”
　　他停顿了一下，仔细地盯着奥德丽，仿佛在盼着她说点儿什么。
　　见她只是一副感兴趣的样子，他继续说道：
　　“还有那件细条纹的衣服。当然，他是在复活节海湾那边的岩岬上摸黑脱下来的，然后他把他的衣服硬塞进旁边一个岩洞里。结果碰巧衣服下面有几条被潮水冲上来的腐烂了的死鱼。这使得衣服肩膀上沾上了一块污迹——还散发着臭味儿。我在询问的时候发现有些人说起酒店的下水道出了毛病。其实就是内维尔自己散布出去的说法。尽管他在外套外面罩了件雨衣，但那股味儿还是四处弥漫。后来他也开始害怕这件衣服会给他惹来麻烦，于是一逮着机会就把它送到干洗店去了，不过他很傻，并没有报上自己的真名，而是信口说了个别的名字，实际上那是他在酒店登记簿上看到的。这就是为什么那件衣服会跑到你朋友的手上，而他脑子很聪明，把这件事和顺着绳子往上爬的男子联系到了一起。你走路可能会踩到臭鱼，但你不会拿自己的肩膀去蹭它，除非你在晚上脱掉了衣服去游泳，而没人会在一个潮湿的九月的晚上去下海游泳玩儿。他把整件事情都串在了一起。麦克沃特先生，他是个非常聪明的人。”
　　“何止是聪明啊。”奥德丽说。
　　“嗯哼，或许吧。想要了解他的情况吗？我可以给你讲一些他过去的经历。”
　　奥德丽聚精会神地听着。巴特尔发现她是个很好的倾听者。
　　她说：“我欠他很多——还有你。”
　　“别觉得欠我很多，”巴特尔警司说，“要不是我犯傻，我本该看出那个铃的意义的。”
　　“铃？什么铃？”
　　“特雷西利安夫人房间里的那个铃。我一直都觉得那个铃有哪里不对劲。当我从顶层走楼梯下来的时候，我看见了你们用来开窗户的一根杆子，那个时候我就几乎想到了。
　　“明白了吧，这就是那个铃的全部意义——给内维尔•斯特兰奇一个不在场的证明。特雷西利安夫人不记得她拉铃是要干什么了——她当然记不得，因为她压根儿就没拉过铃！
　　内维尔在过道里用那根长杆子从外面拉响了那个铃，而铃绳是沿着天花板行走的。于是芭雷特走下来，目睹了斯特兰奇先生下楼并且出门，然后又看见特雷西利安夫人还活得好好的。女仆这件事通篇都透着疑点。对于一桩即将在午夜之前实施的谋杀来说给她下药能有什么好处呢？十有八九那时候她还没睡安稳呢。但这样就能让谋杀看起来是内部人所为，而且还能给内维尔一点儿时间去扮演首要嫌疑人的角色——接着芭雷特一开口说话，内维尔就可以成功地洗脱嫌疑，也就再没有人去仔细盘问他到达酒店的确切时间了。我们知道他没有乘渡船回来，也没有别的船被用过。这样就只剩下游泳的可能性了。他是个强健的游泳高手，不过尽管如此时间肯定也非常紧张。他爬上了事先留好的从他卧室垂下来的绳子，就像我们所注意到的那样，在房间的地板上留下一大摊水（不过我很抱歉地说，我们当时没能参透它的意义）。然后换上他那身蓝色的外衣和裤子，径直来到特雷西利安夫人的房间，我们就不再细说这一段了，那用不了他几分钟的时间，他事先已经准备好了那个钢球。之后他回房间，脱掉衣服，收起绳子，返回复活节海岬。”
　　“要是凯闯进来怎么办？”
　　“我敢打赌，她也被下了一点儿药。根据他们告诉我的，她从吃晚饭的时候起就在打哈欠。此外，他还有意跟她吵了一架，这样她就会把她的门锁上，从而不会碍他的事儿了。”
　　“我在努力回想我是否注意到壁炉围栏上的那个球不见了。我觉得我没有。他什么时候把它放回去的？”
　　“第二天早上趁大家都乱作一团的时候。他坐着特德•拉蒂默的汽车一回来，就有了一整夜时间去清理自己留下的痕迹，布置现场，修理网球拍之类的。顺便提一句，你知道吗，袭击老夫人他用的是反手。这也是为什么这桩罪案显得像是左撇子所为。记住，斯特兰奇的反手一直都是他的强项！”
　　“不要——不要——”奥德丽举起双手，“我再也听不下去了。”
　　他向她微微一笑。
　　“尽管这样，把所有话都说明白还是对你有好处的。斯特兰奇太太，我能冒昧地给你些忠告吗？”
　　“好啊，请说吧。”
　　“你和一个疯狂的罪犯一起生活了八年，这足以让任何女人的神经崩溃。不过你现在必须从这种消极的情绪中振作起来了。你不需要再害怕什么，你必须让自己意识到这一点。”
　　奥德丽冲他莞尔一笑。那种冷若冰霜的表情已经从她的脸上褪去了；这是一张甜美、有些羞怯却又充满信任的脸，两只分得很开的眼睛里充满了感激之情。
　　她迟疑了一下，说道：“你告诉其他人说有个女孩——说这个女孩表现得和我如出一辙？”
　　巴特尔缓缓地点了点头。
　　“是我的女儿，”他说，“所以你瞧，亲爱的，那个奇迹必须得降临。这些事情就是用来教导我们的啊！”