Having dismissed Colin, Inspector1 Hardcastle looked at the address neatly2 written in his notebookand nodded his head. Then he slipped the book back in his pocket and started to deal with theroutine matters that had piled up on his desk.
It was a busy day for him. He sent out for coffee and sandwiches, and received reports fromSergeant Cray — no helpful lead had come up. Nobody at the railway station or buses hadrecognized the photograph of Mr. Curry4. The laboratory reports on clothing added up to nil5. Thesuit had been made by a good tailor, but the tailor’s name had been removed. Desire foranonymity on the part of Mr. Curry? Or on the part of his killer6. Details of dentistry had beencirculated to the proper quarters and were probably the most helpful leads—it took a little time—but it got results in the end. Unless, of course, Mr. Curry had been a foreigner? Hardcastleconsidered the idea. There might be a possibility that the dead man was French—on the other handhis clothes were definitely not French. No laundry marks had helped yet.
Hardcastle was not impatient. Identification was quite often a slow job. But in the end, someonealways came forward. A laundry, a dentist, a doctor, a landlady7. The picture of the dead manwould be circulated to police stations, would be reproduced in newspapers. Sooner or later, Mr.
Curry would be known in his rightful identity.
In the meantime there was work to be done, and not only on the Curry case. Hardcastle workedwithout a break until half past five. He looked at his wristwatch again and decided8 the time wasripe for the call he wanted to make.
Sergeant3 Cray had reported that Sheila Webb had resumed work at the Cavendish Bureau, andthat at five o’clock she would be working with Professor Purdy at the Curlew Hotel and that shewas unlikely to leave there until well after six.
What was the aunt’s name again? Lawton—Mrs. Lawton. 14, Palmerston Road. He did not takea police car but chose to walk the short distance.
Palmerston Road was a gloomy street that had known, as is said, better days. The houses,Hardcastle noted9, had been mainly converted into flats or maisonettes. As he turned the corner, agirl who was approaching him along the sidewalk hesitated for a moment. His mind occupied, theinspector had some momentary10 idea that she was going to ask him the way to somewhere.
However, if that was so, the girl thought better of it and resumed her walk past him. He wonderedwhy the idea of shoes came into his mind so suddenly. Shoes … No, one shoe. The girl’s face wasfaintly familiar to him. Who was it now—someone he had seen just lately … Perhaps she hadrecognized him and was about to speak to him?
He paused for a moment, looking back after her. She was walking quite fast now. The troublewas, he thought, she had one of those indeterminate faces that are very hard to recognize unlessthere is some special reason for doing so. Blue eyes, fair complexion11, slightly open mouth. Mouth.
That recalled something also. Something that she’d been doing with her mouth? Talking? Puttingon lipstick12? No. He felt slightly annoyed with himself. Hardcastle prided himself on hisrecognition of faces. He never forgot, he’d been apt to say, a face he had seen in the dock or in thewitness-box, but there were after all other places of contact. He would not be likely to remember,for instance, every waitress who had ever served him. He would not remember every busconductress. He dismissed the matter from his mind.
He had arrived now at No. 14. The door stood ajar and there were four bells with namesunderneath. Mrs. Lawton, he saw, had a flat on the ground floor. He went in and pressed the bellon the door on the left of the hall. It was a few moments before it was answered. Finally he heardsteps inside and the door was opened by a tall, thin woman with straggling dark hair who had onan overall and seemed a little short of breath. The smell of onions wafted13 along from the directionof what was obviously the kitchen.
“Mrs. Lawton?”
“Yes?” She looked at him doubtfully, with slight annoyance14.
She was, he thought, about forty-five. Something faintly gypsyish about her appearance.
“What is it?”
“I should be glad if you could spare me a moment or two.”
“Well, what about? I’m really rather busy just now.” She added sharply, “You’re not a reporter,are you?”
“Of course,” said Hardcastle, adopting a sympathetic tone, “I expect you’ve been a good dealworried by reporters.”
“Indeed we have. Knocking at the door and ringing the bell and asking all sorts of foolishquestions.”
“Very annoying I know,” said the inspector. “I wish we could spare you all that, Mrs. Lawton. Iam Detective Inspector Hardcastle, by the way, in charge of the case about which the reportershave been annoying you. We’d put a stop to a good deal of that if we could, but we’re powerlessin the matter, you know. The Press has its rights.”
“It’s a shame to worry private people as they do,” said Mrs. Lawton, “saying they have to havenews for the public. The only thing I’ve ever noticed about the news that they print is that it’s atissue of lies from beginning to end. They’ll cook up anything so far as I can see. But come in.”
She stepped back and the inspector passed over the doorstep and she shut the door. There werea couple of letters which had fallen on the mat. Mrs. Lawton bent15 forward to pick them up, but theinspector politely forestalled16 her. His eyes swept over them for half a second as he handed them toher, addresses uppermost.
“Thank you.”
She laid them down on the hall table.
“Come into the sitting room, won’t you? At least—if you go in this door and give me just amoment. I think something’s boiling over.”
She beat a speedy retreat to the kitchen. Inspector Hardcastle took a last deliberate look at theletters on the hall table. One was addressed to Mrs. Lawton and the two others to Miss R. S.
Webb. He went into the room indicated. It was a small room, rather untidy, shabbily furnished buthere and there it displayed some bright spot of colour or some unusual object. An attractive,probably expensive piece of Venetian glass of moulded colours and an abstract shape, two brightlycoloured velvet17 cushions and an earthenware18 platter of foreign shells. Either the aunt or the niece,he thought, had an original streak19 in her makeup20.
Mrs. Lawton returned, slightly more breathless than before.
“I think that’ll be all right now,” she said, rather uncertainly.
The inspector apologized again.
“I’m sorry if I’ve called at an inconvenient21 time,” he said, “but I happened to be in thisneighbourhood and I wanted to check over a few further points about this affair in which yourniece was so unfortunately concerned. I hope she’s none the worse for her experience? It musthave been a great shock to any girl.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Lawton. “Sheila came back in a terrible state. But she was all right bythis morning and she’s gone back to work again.”
“Oh, yes, I know that,” said the inspector. “But I was told she was out doing work for a clientsomewhere and I didn’t want to interrupt anything of that kind so I thought it would be better if Icame round here and talked to her in her own home. But she’s not back yet, is that it?”
“She’ll probably be rather late this evening,” said Mrs. Lawton. “She’s working for a ProfessorPurdy and from what Sheila says, he’s a man with no idea of time at all. Always says ‘this won’ttake more than another ten minutes so I think we might as well get it finished,’ and then of courseit takes nearer to three-quarters of an hour. He’s a very nice man and most apologetic. Once ortwice he’s urged her to stay and have dinner and seemed quite concerned because he’s kept her somuch longer than he realized. Still, it is rather annoying sometimes. Is there something I can tellyou, Inspector? In case Sheila is delayed a long time.”
“Well, not really,” said the inspector smiling. “Of course, we only took down the bare detailsthe other day and I’m not sure really whether I’ve even got those right.” He made a show ofconsulting his notebook once more. “Let me see. Miss Sheila Webb—is that her full name or hasshe another Christian22 name? We have to have these things very exact, you know, for the records atthe inquest.”
“The inquest is the day after tomorrow, isn’t it? She got a notice to attend.”
“Yes, but she needn’t let that worry her,” said Hardcastle. “She’ll just have to tell her story ofhow she found the body.”
“You don’t know who the man was yet?”
“No. I’m afraid it’s early days for that. There was a card in his pocket and we thought at first hewas some kind of insurance agent. But it seems more likely now that it was a card he’d been givenby someone. Perhaps he was contemplating23 insurance himself.”
“Oh, I see,” Mrs. Lawton looked vaguely24 interested.
“Now I’ll just get these names right,” said the inspector. “I think I’ve got it down as Miss SheilaWebb or Miss Sheila R. Webb. I just couldn’t remember what the other name was. Was itRosalie?”
“Rosemary,” said Mrs. Lawton, “she was christened Rosemary Sheila but Sheila always thoughtRosemary was rather fanciful so she’s never called anything but Sheila.”
“I see.” There was nothing in Hardcastle’s tone to show that he was pleased that one of hishunches had come out right. He noted another point. The name Rosemary occasioned no distressin Mrs. Lawton. To her Rosemary was simply a Christian name that her niece did not use.
“I’ve got it straight now all right,” said the inspector smiling. “I gather that your niece camefrom London and has been working for the Cavendish Bureau for the last ten months or so. Youdon’t know the exact date, I suppose?”
“Well, really, I couldn’t say now. It was last November some time. I think more towards the endof November.”
“Quite so. It doesn’t really matter. She was not living with you here previously25 to taking the jobat the Cavendish Bureau?”
“No. She was living in London before that.”
“Have you got her address in London?”
“Well, I’ve got it somewhere,” Mrs. Lawton looked round her with the vague expression of thehabitually untidy. “I’ve got such a short memory,” she said. “Something like Allington Grove26, Ithink it was—out Fulham way. She shared a flat with two other girls. Terribly expensive rooms arein London for girls.”
“Do you remember the name of the firm she worked at there?”
“Oh, yes. Hopgood and Trent. They were estate agents in the Fulham Road.”
“Thank you. Well all that seems very clear. Miss Webb is an orphan27, I understand?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Lawton. She moved uneasily. Her eyes strayed to the door. “Do you mind if Ijust go into the kitchen again?”
“Of course.”
He opened the door for her. She went out. He wondered if he had been right or wrong inthinking that his last question had in some way perturbed28 Mrs. Lawton. Her replies had come quitereadily and easily up to then. He thought about it until Mrs. Lawton returned.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, apologetically, “but you know what it is—cooking things. Everything’squite all right now. Was there anything else you want to ask me? I’ve remembered, by the way, itwasn’t Allington Grove. It was Carrington Grove and the number was 17.”
“Thank you,” said the inspector. “I think I was asking you whether Miss Webb was an orphan.”
“Yes, she’s an orphan. Her parents are dead.”
“Long ago?”
“They died when she was a child.”
There was something like defiance29 just perceptible in her tone.
“Was she your sister’s child or your brother’s?”
“My sister’s.”
“Ah, yes. And what was Mr. Webb’s profession?”
Mrs. Lawton paused a moment before answering. She was biting her lips. Then she said, “Idon’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I mean I don’t remember, it’s so long ago.”
Hardcastle waited, knowing that she would speak again. She did.
“May I ask what all this has got to do with it—I mean what does it matter who her father andmother were and what her father did and where he came from or anything like that?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter really, Mrs. Lawton, not from your point of view, that is. But yousee, the circumstances are rather unusual.”
“What do you mean—the circumstances are unusual?”
“Well, we have reason to believe that Miss Webb went to that house yesterday because she hadbeen specially30 asked for at the Cavendish Bureau by name. It looks therefore as though someonehad deliberately31 arranged for her to be there. Someone perhaps—” he hesitated “—with a grudgeagainst her.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone could have a grudge32 against Sheila. She’s a very sweet girl. A nicefriendly girl.”
“Yes,” said Hardcastle mildly. “That’s what I should have thought myself.”
“And I don’t like to hear anybody suggesting the contrary,” said Mrs. Lawton belligerently33.
“Exactly.” Hardcastle continued to smile appeasingly. “But you must realize, Mrs. Lawton, thatit looks as though your niece has been deliberately made a victim. She was being, as they say onthe films, put on the spot. Somebody was arranging for her to go into a house where there was adead man, and that dead man had died very recently. It seems on the face of it a malicious34 thing todo.”
“You mean—you mean someone was trying to make it appear that Sheila killed him? Oh, no, Ican’t believe it.”
“It is rather difficult to believe,” agreed the inspector, “but we’ve got to make quite sure andclear up the matter. Could there be, for instance, some young man, someone perhaps who hadfallen in love with your niece, and whom she, perhaps, did not care for? Young men sometimes dosome very bitter and revengeful things, especially if they’re rather ill-balanced.”
“I don’t think it could be anything of that kind,” said Mrs. Lawton, puckering35 her eyes inthought and frowning. “Sheila has had one or two boys she’s been friendly with, but there’s beennothing serious. Nobody steady of any kind.”
“It might have been while she was living in London?” the inspector suggested. “After all, Idon’t suppose you know very much about what friends she had there.”
“No, no, perhaps not … Well, you’ll have to ask her about that yourself, Inspector Hardcastle.
But I never heard of any trouble of any kind.”
“Or it might have been another girl,” suggested Hardcastle. “Perhaps one of the girls she sharedrooms with there was jealous of her?”
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Lawton doubtfully, “that there might be a girl who’d want to do her abad turn. But not involving murder, surely.”
It was a shrewd appreciation36 and Hardcastle noted that Mrs. Lawton was by no means a fool.
He said quickly:
“I know it all sounds most unlikely, but then this whole business is unlikely.”
“It must have been someone mad,” said Mrs. Lawton.
“Even in madness,” said Hardcastle, “there’s a definite idea behind the madness, you know.
Something that’s given rise to it. And that really,” he went on, “is why I was asking you aboutSheila Webb’s father and mother. You’d be surprised how often motives37 arise that have their rootsin the past. Since Miss Webb’s father and mother died when she was a young child, naturally shecan’t tell me anything about them. That’s why I’m applying to you.”
“Yes, I see, but—well….”
He noted that the trouble and uncertainty38 were back in her voice.
“Were they killed at the same time, in an accident, anything like that?”
“No, there was no accident.”
“They both died from natural causes?”
“I—well, yes, I mean—I don’t really know.”
“I think you must know a little more than you are telling me, Mrs. Lawton.” He hazarded aguess. “Were they, perhaps, divorced—something of that kind?”
“No, they weren’t divorced.”
“Come now, Mrs. Lawton. You know—you must know of what your sister died?”
“I don’t see what—I mean, I can’t say—it’s all very difficult. Raking up things. It’s much betternot raking them up.” There was a kind of desperate perplexity in her glance.
Hardcastle looked at her keenly. Then he said gently, “Was Sheila Webb perhaps — anillegitimate child?”
He saw immediately a mixture of consternation39 and relief in her face.
“She’s not my child,” she said.
“She is your sister’s illegitimate child?”
“Yes. But she doesn’t know it herself. I’ve never told her. I told her her parents died young. Sothat’s why—well, you see….”
“Oh, yes, I see,” said the inspector, “and I assure you that unless something comes of thisparticular line of inquiry40 there is no need for me to question Miss Webb on this subject.”
“You mean you needn’t tell her?”
“Not unless there is some relevance41 to the case, which, I may say, seems unlikely. But I do wantall the facts that you know, Mrs. Lawton, and I assure you that I’ll do my best to keep what youtell me entirely42 between ourselves.”
“It’s not a nice thing to happen,” said Mrs. Lawton, “and I was very distressed43 about it, I cantell you. My sister, you see, had always been the clever one of the family. She was a schoolteacherand doing very well. Highly respected and everything else. The last person you’d ever think would—”
“Well,” said the inspector, tactfully, “it often happens that way. She got to know this man—thisWebb—”
“I never even knew what his name was,” said Mrs. Lawton. “I never met him. But she came tome and told me what had happened. That she was expecting a child and that the man couldn’t, orwouldn’t—I never knew which—marry her. She was ambitious and it would have meant giving upher job if the whole thing came out. So naturally I—I said I’d help.”
“Where is your sister now, Mrs. Lawton?”
“I’ve no idea. Absolutely no idea at all.” She was emphatic44.
“She’s alive, though.”
“I suppose so.”
“But you haven’t kept in touch with her?”
“That’s the way she wanted it. She thought it was best for the child and best for her that thereshould be a clean break. So it was fixed45 that way. We both had a little income of our own that ourmother left us. Ann turned her half-share over to me to be used for the child’s bringing up andkeep. She was going to continue with her profession, she said, but she would change schools.
There was some idea, I believe, of a year’s exchange with a teacher abroad. Australia orsomewhere. That’s all I know, Inspector Hardcastle, and that’s all I can tell you.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. Was that really all she knew? It was a difficult question to answerwith any certainty. It was certainly all that she meant to tell him. It might very well be all sheknew. Slight as the reference to the sister had been, Hardcastle got an impression of a forceful,bitter, angry personality. The sort of woman who was determined46 not to have her life blasted byone mistake. In a cold hardheaded way she had provided for the upkeep and presumable happinessof her child. From that moment on she had cut herself adrift to start life again on her own.
It was conceivable, he thought, that she might feel like that about the child. But what about hersister? He said mildly:
“It seems odd that she did not at least keep in touch with you by letter, did not want to knowhow the child was progressing?”
Mrs. Lawton shook her head.
“Not if you knew Ann,” she said. “She was always very clear-cut in her decisions. And then sheand I weren’t very close. I was younger than she was by a good deal—twelve years. As I say, wewere never very close.”
“And what did your husband feel about this adoption47?”
“I was a widow then,” said Mrs. Lawton. “I married young and my husband was killed in thewar. I kept a small sweet shop at the time.”
“Where was all this? Not here in Crowdean.”
“No. We were living in Lincolnshire at the time. I came here in the holidays once, and I liked itso much that I sold the shop and came here to live. Later, when Sheila was old enough to go toschool, I took a job in Roscoe and West, the big drapers here, you know. I still work there.
They’re very pleasant people.”
“Well,” said Hardcastle, rising to his feet, “thank you very much, Mrs. Lawton, for yourfrankness in what you have told me.”
“And you won’t say a word of it to Sheila?”
“Not unless it should become necessary, and that would only happen if some circumstances outof the past proved to have been connected with this murder at 19, Wilbraham Crescent. And that, Ithink, is unlikely.” He took the photograph from his pocket which he had been showing to somany people, and showed it to Mrs. Lawton. “You’ve no idea who this man could be?”
“They’ve shown it me already,” said Mrs. Lawton.
She took it and scrutinized48 it earnestly.
“No. I’m sure, quite sure, I’ve never seen this man before. I don’t think he belonged round hereor I might have remembered seeing him about. Of course—” she looked closely. She paused amoment before adding, rather unexpectedly, “He looks a nice man I think. A gentleman, I’d say,wouldn’t you?”
It was a slightly outmoded term in the inspector’s experience, yet it fell very naturally fromMrs. Lawton’s lips. “Brought up in the country,” he thought. “They still think of things that way.”
He looked at the photograph again himself reflecting, with faint surprise, that he had not thoughtof the dead man in quite that way. Was he a nice man? He had been assuming just the contrary.
Assuming it unconsciously perhaps, or influenced perhaps by the fact that the man had a card inhis pocket which bore a name and an address which were obviously false. But the explanation hehad given to Mrs. Lawton just now might have been the true one. It might have been that the carddid represent some bogus insurance agent who had pressed the card upon the dead man. And that,he thought wryly49, would really make the whole thing even more difficult. He glanced at his watchagain.
“I mustn’t keep you from your cooking any longer,” he said, “since your niece is not home yet—”
Mrs. Lawton in turn looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “Only one clock in this room, thankheaven,” thought the inspector to himself.
“Yes, she is late,” she remarked. “Surprising really. It’s a good thing Edna didn’t wait.”
Seeing a slightly puzzled expression on Hardcastle’s face, she explained.
“It’s just one of the girls from the office. She came here to see Sheila this evening and shewaited a bit but after a while she said she couldn’t wait any longer. She’d got a date with someone.
She said it would do tomorrow, or some other time.”
Enlightenment came to the inspector. The girl he had passed in the street! He knew now whyshe’d made him think of shoes. Of course. It was the girl who had received him in the CavendishBureau and the girl who, when he left, had been holding up a shoe with a stiletto heel torn off it,and had been discussing in unhappy puzzlement how on earth she was going to get home like that.
A nondescript kind of girl, he remembered, not very attractive, sucking some kind of sweet as shetalked. She had recognized him when she passed him in the street, although he had not recognizedher. She had hesitated, too, as though she thought of speaking to him. He wondered rather idlywhat she had wanted to say. Had she wanted to explain why she was calling on Sheila Webb orhad she thought he would expect her to say something? He asked:
“Is she a great friend of your niece’s?”
“Well, not particularly,” said Mrs. Lawton. “I mean they work in the same office and all that,but she’s rather a dull girl. Not very bright and she and Sheila aren’t particular friends. In fact, Iwondered why she was so keen to see Sheila tonight. She said it was something she couldn’tunderstand and that she wanted to ask Sheila about it.”
“She didn’t tell you what it was?”
“No, she said it would keep and it didn’t matter.”
“I see. Well, I must be going.”
“It’s odd,” said Mrs. Lawton, “that Sheila hasn’t telephoned. She usually does if she’s late,because the professor sometimes asks her to stay to dinner. Ah, well, I expect she’ll be here anymoment now. There are a lot of bus queues sometimes and the Curlew Hotel is quite a good wayalong the Esplanade. There’s nothing—no message—you want to leave for Sheila?”
“I think not,” said the inspector.
As he went out he asked, “By the way, who chose your niece’s Christian names, Rosemary andSheila? Your sister or yourself?”
“Sheila was our mother’s name. Rosemary was my sister’s choice. Funny name to choosereally. Fanciful. And yet my sister wasn’t fanciful or sentimental50 in any way.”
“Well, good night, Mrs. Lawton.”
As the inspector turned the corner from the gateway51 into the street he thought, “Rosemary—hm… Rosemary for remembrance. Romantic remembrance? Or—something quite different?”
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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neatly
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sergeant
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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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nil
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killer
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landlady
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decided
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noted
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momentary
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complexion
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lipstick
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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annoyance
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bent
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forestalled
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velvet
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earthenware
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streak
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makeup
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inconvenient
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Christian
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contemplating
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vaguely
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previously
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grove
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orphan
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perturbed
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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belligerently
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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puckering
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的现在分词 )；小褶纹；小褶皱 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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relevance
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| n.中肯，适当，关联，相关性 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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adoption
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| n.采用，采纳，通过；收养 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wryly
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| adv. 挖苦地，嘲弄地 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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