To use police terms: at 2:59 p.m. on September 9th, I was proceeding2 along Wilbraham Crescentin a westerly direction. It was my first introduction to Wilbraham Crescent, and franklyWilbraham Crescent had me baffled.
I had been following a hunch3 with a persistence4 becoming more dogged day by day as thehunch seemed less and less likely to pay off. I’m like that.
The number I wanted was 61, and could I find it? No, I could not. Having studiously followedthe numbers from 1 to 35, Wilbraham Crescent then appeared to end. A thoroughfareuncompromisingly labelled Albany Road barred my way. I turned back. On the north side therewere no houses, only a wall. Behind the wall, blocks of modern flats soared upwards5, the entranceof them being obviously in another road. No help there.
I looked up at the numbers I was passing. 24, 23, 22, 21. Diana Lodge6 (presumably 20, with anorange cat on the gatepost washing its face), 19—The door of 19 opened and a girl came out of it and down the path with what seemed to be thespeed of a bomb. The likeness7 to a bomb was intensified8 by the screaming that accompanied herprogress. It was high and thin and singularly inhuman9. Through the gate the girl came and collidedwith me with a force that nearly knocked me off the pavement. She did not only collide. Sheclutched—a frenzied10 desperate clutching.
“Steady,” I said, as I recovered my balance. I shook her slightly. “Steady now.”
The girl steadied. She still clutched, but she stopped screaming. Instead she gasped—deepsobbing gasps11.
I can’t say that I reacted to the situation with any brilliance12. I asked her if anything was thematter. Recognizing that my question was singularly feeble I amended13 it.
“What’s the matter?”
The girl took a deep breath.
“In there!” she gestured behind her.
“Yes?”
“There’s a man on the floor … dead … She was going to step on him.”
“Who was? Why?”
“I think—because she’s blind. And there’s blood on him.” She looked down and loosened oneof her clutching hands. “And on me. There’s blood on me.”
“So there is,” I said. I looked at the stains on my coat sleeve. “And on me as well now,” Ipointed out. I sighed and considered the situation. “You’d better take me in and show me,” I said.
But she began to shake violently.
“I can’t—I can’t … I won’t go in there again.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” I looked round. There seemed nowhere very suitable to deposit a half-fainting girl. I lowered her gently to the pavement and sat her with her back against the ironrailings.
“You stay there,” I said, “until I come back. I shan’t be long. You’ll be all right. Lean forwardand put your head between your knees if you feel queer.”
“I—I think I’m all right now.”
She was a little doubtful about it, but I didn’t want to parley14. I gave her a reassuring15 pat on theshoulder and strode off briskly up the path. I went in through the door, hesitated a moment in thehallway, looked into the door on the left, found an empty dining room, crossed the hall andentered the sitting room opposite.
The first thing I saw was an elderly woman with grey hair sitting in a chair. She turned her headsharply as I entered and said:
“Who’s that?”
I realized at once that the woman was blind. Her eyes which looked directly towards me werefocused on a spot behind my left ear.
I spoke16 abruptly17 and to the point.
“A young woman rushed out into the street saying there was a dead man in here.”
I felt a sense of absurdity18 as I said the words. It did not seem possible that there should be adead man in this tidy room with this calm woman sitting in her chair with her hands folded.
But her answer came at once.
“Behind the sofa,” she said.
I moved round the angle of the sofa. I saw it then—the out-flung arms—the glazed19 eyes—thecongealing patch of blood.
“How did this happen?” I asked abruptly.
“I don’t know.”
“But—surely. Who is he?”
“I have no idea.”
“We must get the police.” I looked round. “Where’s the telephone?”
“I have not got a telephone.”
I concentrated upon her more closely.
“You live here? This is your house?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Certainly. I came in from shopping—” I noted20 the shopping bag flung on a chair near the door.
“I came in here. I realized at once there was someone in the room. One does very easily when oneis blind. I asked who was there. There was no answer—only the sound of someone breathingrather quickly. I went towards the sound—and then whoever it was cried out—something aboutsomeone being dead and that I was going to tread on him. And then whoever it was rushed pastme out of the room screaming.”
I nodded. Their stories clicked.
“And what did you do?”
“I felt my way very carefully until my foot touched an obstacle.”
“And then?”
“I knelt down. I touched something—a man’s hand. It was cold—there was no pulse … I got upand came over here and sat down—to wait. Someone was bound to come in due course. Theyoung woman, whoever she was, would give the alarm. I thought I had better not leave the house.”
I was impressed with the calm of this woman. She had not screamed, or stumbled panic-strickenfrom the house. She had sat down calmly to wait. It was the sensible thing to do, but it must havetaken some doing.
Her voice inquired:
“Who exactly are you?”
“My name is Colin Lamb. I happened to be passing by.”
“Where is the young woman?”
“I left her propped21 up by the gate. She’s suffering from shock. Where is the nearest telephone?”
“There is a call box about fifty yards down the road just before you come to the corner.”
“Of course. I remember passing it. I’ll go and ring the police. Will you—” I hesitated.
I didn’t know whether to say “Will you remain here?” or to make it “Will you be all right?”
She relieved me from my choice.
“You had better bring the girl into the house,” she said decisively.
“I don’t know that she will come,” I said doubtfully.
“Not into this room, naturally. Put her in the dining room the other side of the hall. Tell her I ammaking some tea.”
She rose and came towards me.
“But—can you manage—”
A faint grim smile showed for a moment on her face.
“My dear young man. I have made meals for myself in my own kitchen ever since I came tolive in this house—fourteen years ago. To be blind is not necessarily to be helpless.”
“I’m sorry. It was stupid of me. Perhaps I ought to know your name?”
“Millicent Pebmarsh—Miss.”
I went out and down the path. The girl looked up at me and began to struggle to her feet.
“I—I think I’m more or less all right now.”
I helped her up, saying cheerfully:
“Good.”
“There—there was a dead man in there, wasn’t there?”
I agreed promptly22.
“Certainly there was. I’m just going down to the telephone box to report it to the police. Ishould wait in the house if I were you.” I raised my voice to cover her quick protest. “Go into thedining room—on the left as you go in. Miss Pebmarsh is making a cup of tea for you.”
“So that was Miss Pebmarsh? And she’s blind?”
“Yes. It’s been a shock to her, too, of course, but she’s being very sensible. Come on, I’ll takeyou in. A cup of tea will do you good whilst you are waiting for the police to come.”
I put an arm round her shoulders and urged her up the path. I settled her comfortably by thedining room table, and hurried off again to telephone.
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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2
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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3
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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6
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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7
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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8
intensified
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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10
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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11
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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12
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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13
Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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14
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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15
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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16
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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17
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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18
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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19
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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20
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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21
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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