At No. 62, Wilbraham Crescent, Mrs. Ramsay was saying to herself encouragingly, “Only twodays now. Only two days.”
She pushed back some dank hair from her forehead. An almighty1 crash came from the kitchen.
Mrs. Ramsay felt very disinclined even to go and see what the crash portended2. If only she couldpretend that there hadn’t been a crash. Oh well—only two days. She stepped across the hall, flungthe kitchen door open and said in a voice of far less belligerence3 than it would have held threeweeks ago:
“Now what have you done?”
“Sorry, Mum,” said her son Bill. “We were just having a bit of a bowling4 match with these tinsand somehow or other they rolled into the bottom of the china cupboard.”
“We didn’t mean them to go into the bottom of the china cupboard,” said his younger brotherTed agreeably.
“Well, pick up those things and put them back in the cupboard and sweep up that broken chinaand put it in the bin6.”
“Oh, Mum, not now.”
“Yes, now.”
“Ted5 can do it,” said Bill.
“I like that,” said Ted. “Always putting on me. I won’t do it if you won’t.”
“Bet you will.”
“Bet I won’t.”
“I’ll make you.”
“Yahh!”
The boys closed in a fierce wrestling match. Ted was forced back against the kitchen table and abowl of eggs rocked ominously7.
“Oh, get out of the kitchen!” cried Mrs. Ramsay. She pushed the two boys out of the kitchendoor and shut it, and began to pick up tins and sweep up china.
“Two days,” she thought, “and they’ll be back at school! What a lovely, what a heavenlythought for a mother.”
She remembered vaguely8 some wicked remark by a woman columnist9.
Only six happy days in the year for a woman.
The first and the last days of the holidays. How true that was, thought Mrs. Ramsay, sweeping10 upportions of her best dinner service. With what pleasure, what joy, had she contemplated11 the returnof her offspring a bare five weeks before! And now? “The day after tomorrow,” she repeated toherself, “the day after tomorrow Bill and Ted will be back at school. I can hardly believe it. I can’twait!”
How heavenly it had been five weeks ago when she met them at the station. Their tempestuousand affectionate welcome! The way they had rushed all over the house and garden. A special cakebaked for tea. And now—what was she looking forward to now? A day of complete peace. Noenormous meals to prepare, no incessant12 clearing up. She loved the boys—they were fine boys, nodoubt of that. She was proud of them. But they were also exhausting. Their appetite, their vitality,the noise they made.
At that moment, raucous13 cries arose. She turned her head in sharp alarm. It was all right. Theyhad only gone out in the garden. That was better, there was far more room for them in the garden.
They would probably annoy the neighbours. She hoped to goodness they would leave Mrs.
Hemming14’s cats alone. Not, it must be confessed, for the sake of the cats, but because the wiredenclosure surrounding Mrs. Hemming’s garden was apt to tear their shorts. She cast a fleeting15 eyeover the first-aid box which lay handy on the dresser. Not that she fussed unduly16 over the naturalaccidents of vigorous boyhood. In fact her first inevitable17 remark was: “Now haven’t I told you ahundred times, you are not to bleed in the drawing room! Come straight into the kitchen and bleedthere, where I can wipe over the linoleum18.”
A terrific yell from outside seemed to be cut off midway and was followed by a silence soprofound that Mrs. Ramsay felt a real feeling of alarm spring up in her breast. Really, that silencewas most unnatural19. She stood uncertainly, the dustpan with broken china in her hand. The kitchendoor opened and Bill stood there. He had an awed20, ecstatic expression most unusual on his eleven-year-old face.
“Mum,” he said. “There’s a detective inspector21 here and another man with him.”
“Oh,” said Mrs. Ramsay, relieved. “What does he want, dear?”
“He asked for you,” said Bill, “but I think it must be about the murder. You know, the one atMiss Pebmarsh’s yesterday.”
“I don’t see why he should come and wish to see me,” said Mrs. Ramsay, in a slightly vexedvoice.
Life was just one thing after another, she thought. How was she to get the potatoes on for theIrish stew22 if detective inspectors23 came along at this awkward hour?
“Oh well,” she said with a sigh. “I suppose I’d better come.”
She shot the broken china into the bin under the sink, rinsed24 her hands under the tap, smoothedher hair and prepared to follow Bill, who was saying impatiently, “Oh, come on, Mum.”
Mrs. Ramsay, closely flanked by Bill, entered the sitting room. Two men were standing25 there.
Her younger son, Ted, was in attendance upon them, staring at them with wide appreciative26 eyes.
“Mrs. Ramsay?”
“Good morning.”
“I expect these young men have told you that I am Detective Inspector Hardcastle?”
“It’s very awkward,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “Very awkward this morning. I’m very busy. Will ittake very long?”
“Hardly any time at all,” said Detective Inspector Hardcastle reassuringly27. “May we sit down?”
“Oh, yes, do, do.”
Mrs. Ramsay took an upright chair and looked at them impatiently. She had suspicions that itwas not going to take hardly any time at all.
“No need for you two to remain,” said Hardcastle to the boys pleasantly.
“Aw, we’re not going,” said Bill.
“We’re not going,” echoed Ted.
“We want to hear all about it,” said Bill.
“Sure we do,” said Ted.
“Was there a lot of blood?” asked Bill.
“Was it a burglar?” said Ted.
“Be quiet, boys,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “Didn’t you hear the—Mr. Hardcastle say he didn’t wantyou in here?”
“We’re not going,” said Bill. “We want to hear.”
Hardcastle moved across to the door and opened it. He looked at the boys.
“Out,” he said.
It was only one word, quietly uttered, but it had behind it the quality of authority. Without moreado both boys got up, shuffled28 their feet and shuffled out of the room.
“How wonderful,” thought Mrs. Ramsay appreciatively. “Now why can’t I be like that?”
But then, she reflected, she was the boys’ mother. She knew by hearsay29 that the boys, when theywent out, behaved in a manner entirely30 different from at home. It was always mothers who got theworst of things. But perhaps, she reflected, one would rather have it like that. To have nice quietattentive polite boys at home and to have little hooligans going out, creating unfavourableopinions of themselves, would be worse—yes, that would be worse. She recalled herself to whatwas required of her, as Inspector Hardcastle came back and sat down again.
“If it’s about what happened at Number 19 yesterday,” she said nervously31, “I really don’t seethat I can tell you anything, Inspector. I don’t know anything about it. I don’t even know thepeople who live there.”
“The house is lived in by a Miss Pebmarsh. She’s blind and works at the Aaronberg Institute.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “I’m afraid I know hardly anybody in the lower Crescent.”
“Were you yourself here yesterday between half past twelve and three o’clock?”
“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “There was dinner to cook and all that. I went out before three,though. I took the boys to the cinema.”
The inspector took the photograph from his pocket and handed it to her.
“I’d like you to tell me if you’ve ever seen this man before.”
Mrs. Ramsay looked at it with a slight awakening32 of interest.
“No,” she said, “no, I don’t think so. I’m not sure if I would remember if I had seen him.”
“He did not come to this house on any occasion—trying to sell you insurance or anything ofthat kind?”
Mrs. Ramsay shook her head more positively33.
“No. No, I’m sure he didn’t.”
“His name, we have some reason to believe, is Curry34. Mr. R. Curry.”
He looked inquiringly at her. Mrs. Ramsay shook her head again.
“I’m afraid,” she said apologetically, “I really haven’t time to see or notice anything during theholidays.”
“That’s always a busy time, isn’t it,” said the inspector. “Fine boys you’ve got. Full of life andspirits. Rather too many spirits sometimes, I expect?”
Mrs. Ramsay positively smiled.
“Yes,” she said, “it gets a little tiring, but they’re very good boys really.”
“I’m sure they are,” said the inspector. “Fine fellows, both of them. Very intelligent, I shouldsay. I’ll have a word with them before I go, if you don’t mind. Boys notice things sometimes thatnobody else in the house does.”
“I don’t really see how they can have noticed anything,” said Mrs. Ramsay. “It’s not as thoughwe were next door or anything.”
“But your gardens back on each other.”
“Yes, they do,” agreed Mrs. Ramsay. “But they’re quite separate.”
“Do you know Mrs. Hemming at Number 20?”
“Well, in a way I do,” said Mrs. Ramsay, “because of the cats and one thing and another.”
“You are fond of cats?”
“Oh, no,” said Mrs. Ramsay, “it’s not that. I mean it’s usually complaints.”
“Oh, I see. Complaints. What about?”
Mrs. Ramsay flushed.
“The trouble is,” she said, “when people keep cats in that way—fourteen, she’s got—they getabsolutely besotted about them. And it’s all a lot of nonsense. I like cats. We used to have a catourselves, a tabby. Very good mouser, too. But all the fuss that woman makes, cooking specialfood—hardly ever letting the poor things out to have a life of their own. Of course the cats arealways trying to escape. I would, if I was one of those cats. And the boys are very good really,they wouldn’t torment35 a cat in any way. What I say is cats can always take care of themselves verywell. They’re very sensible animals, cats, that is if they are treated sensibly.”
“I’m sure you’re quite right,” said the inspector. “You must have a busy life,” he went on,“keeping those boys of yours amused and fed during the holidays. When are they going back toschool?”
“The day after tomorrow,” said Mrs. Ramsay.
“I hope you’ll have a good rest then.”
“I mean to treat myself to a real lazy time,” she said.
The other young man who had been silently taking down notes, startled her a little by speaking.
“You ought to have one of those foreign girls,” he said. “Au pair, don’t they call it, come and dochores here in return for learning English.”
“I suppose I might try something of that kind,” said Mrs. Ramsay, considering, “though Ialways feel that foreigners may be difficult. My husband laughs at me. But then of course heknows more about it than I do. I haven’t travelled abroad as much as he has.”
“He’s away now, isn’t he?” said Hardcastle.
“Yes—he had to go to Sweden at the beginning of August. He’s a constructional engineer. Apity he had to go just then—at the beginning of the holidays, too. He’s so good with the children.
He really likes playing with electric trains more than the boys do. Sometimes the lines and themarshalling yards and everything go right across the hall and into the other room. It’s very difficultnot to fall over them.” She shook her head. “Men are such children,” she said indulgently.
“When do you expect him back, Mrs. Ramsay?”
“I never know.” She sighed. “It makes it rather—difficult.” There was a tremor36 in her voice.
Colin looked at her keenly.
“We mustn’t take up more of your time, Mrs. Ramsay.”
Hardcastle rose to his feet.
“Perhaps your boys will show us the garden?”
Bill and Ted were waiting in the hall and fell in with the suggestion immediately.
“Of course,” said Bill apologetically, “it isn’t a very big garden.”
There had been some slight effort made to keep the garden of No. 62, Wilbraham Crescent inreasonable order. On one side there was a border of dahlias and Michaelmas daisies. Then a smalllawn somewhat unevenly37 mown. The paths badly needed hoeing, models of aeroplanes, spaceguns and other representations of modern science lay about, looking slightly the worse for wear.
At the end of the garden was an apple tree with pleasant-looking red apples on it. Next to it was apear tree.
“That’s it,” said Ted, pointing at the space between the apple and the pear, through which theback of Miss Pebmarsh’s house showed clearly. “That’s Number 19 where the murder was.”
“Got quite a good view of the house, haven’t you,” said the inspector. “Better still, I expect,from the upstairs windows.”
“That’s right,” said Bill. “If only we’d been up there yesterday looking out, we might have seensomething. But we didn’t.”
“We were at the cinema,” said Ted.
“Were there fingerprints38?” asked Bill.
“Not very helpful ones. Were you out in the garden at all yesterday?”
“Oh, yes, off and on,” said Bill. “All the morning, that is. We didn’t hear anything, though, orsee anything.”
“If we’d been there in the afternoon we might have heard screams,” said Ted, wistfully. “Awfulscreams there were.”
“Do you know Miss Pebmarsh, the lady who owns that house, by sight?”
The boys looked at each other, then nodded.
“She’s blind,” said Ted, “but she can walk around the garden all right. Doesn’t have to walkwith a stick or anything like that. She threw a ball back to us once. Quite nice about it she was.”
“You didn’t see her at all yesterday?”
The boys shook their heads.
“We wouldn’t see her in the morning. She’s always out,” Bill explained. “She usually comesout in the garden after tea.”
Colin was exploring a line of hosepipe which was attached to a tap in the house. It ran along thegarden path and was laid down in the corner near the pear tree.
“Never knew that pear trees needed watering,” he remarked.
“Oh, that,” said Bill. He looked slightly embarrassed.
“On the other hand,” said Colin, “if you climbed up in this tree.” He looked at both boys andgrinned suddenly. “You could get a very nice little line of water to play on a cat, couldn’t you?”
Both boys scuffled the gravel39 with their feet and looked in every other direction but at Colin.
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?” said Colin.
“Aw, well,” said Bill, “it doesn’t hurt ’em. It’s not,” he said with an air of virtue40, “like acatapult.”
“I suppose you used to use a catapult at one time.”
“Not properly,” said Ted. “We never seemed to hit anything.”
“Anyway, you do have a bit of fun with that hose sometimes,” said Colin, “and then Mrs.
Hemming comes along and complains?”
“She’s always complaining,” said Bill.
“You ever get through her fence?”
“Not through that wire here,” said Ted, unguardedly.
“But you do get through into her garden sometimes, is that right? How do you do it?”
“Well, you can get through the fence—into Miss Pebmarsh’s garden. Then a little way down tothe right you can push through the hedge into Mrs. Hemming’s garden. There’s a hole there in thewire.”
“Can’t you shut up, you fool?” said Bill.
“I suppose you’ve done a bit of hunting about for clues since the murder?” said Hardcastle.
The boys looked at each other.
“When you came back from the cinema and heard what had happened, I bet you went throughthe fence into the garden of 19 and had a jolly good look round.”
“Well—” Bill paused cautiously.
“It’s always possible,” said Hardcastle seriously, “that you may have found something that wemissed. If you have—er—a collection I should be much obliged if you would show it to me.”
Bill made up his mind.
“Get ’em, Ted,” he said.
Ted departed obediently at a run.
“I’m afraid we haven’t got anything really good,” admitted Bill. “We only—sort of pretended.”
He looked at Hardcastle anxiously.
“I quite understand,” said the inspector. “Most of police work is like that. A lot ofdisappointments.”
Bill looked relieved.
Ted returned at a run. He passed over a grubby knotted handkerchief which chinked. Hardcastleunknotted it, with a boy on either side of him, and spread out the contents.
There was the handle off a cup, a fragment of willow41 pattern china, a broken trowel, a rustyfork, a coin, a clothes peg42, a bit of iridescent43 glass and half a pair of scissors.
“An interesting lot,” said the inspector solemnly.
He took pity on the eager faces of the boys and picked up the piece of glass.
“I’ll take this. It may just possibly tie up with something.”
Colin had picked up the coin and was examining it.
“It’s not English,” said Ted.
“No,” said Colin. “It’s not English.” He looked across at Hardcastle. “We might perhaps takethis, too,” he suggested.
“Don’t say a word about this to anyone,” said Hardcastle in a conspiratorial44 fashion.
The boys promised delightedly that they wouldn’t.
点击
收听单词发音
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1
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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2
portended
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| v.预示( portend的过去式和过去分词 )；预兆；给…以警告；预告 | |
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3
belligerence
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| n.交战，好战性，斗争性 | |
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4
bowling
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| n.保龄球运动 | |
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5
ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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6
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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7
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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8
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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9
columnist
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| n.专栏作家 | |
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10
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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11
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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12
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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13
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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14
hemming
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| 卷边 | |
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15
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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16
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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17
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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18
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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19
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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20
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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inspectors
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| n.检查员( inspector的名词复数 )；（英国公共汽车或火车上的）查票员；（警察）巡官；检阅官 | |
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24
rinsed
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| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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25
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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28
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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29
hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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30
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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32
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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33
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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34
curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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35
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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36
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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unevenly
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| adv.不均匀的 | |
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fingerprints
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| n.指纹( fingerprint的名词复数 )v.指纹( fingerprint的第三人称单数 ) | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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40
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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41
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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42
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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43
iridescent
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| adj.彩虹色的，闪色的 | |
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conspiratorial
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| adj.阴谋的，阴谋者的 | |
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