Going out of the gate I almost cannoned1 into Mrs. McNaughton. She was carrying a shopping bagand seemed very wobbly on her feet.
“Let me,” I said and took it from her. She was inclined to clutch it from me at first, then sheleaned her head forward, peering at me, and relaxed her grip.
“You’re the young man from the police,” she said. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”
I carried the shopping bag to her front door and she teetered beside me. The shopping bag wasunexpectedly heavy. I wondered what was in it. Pounds of potatoes?
“Don’t ring,” she said. “The door isn’t locked.”
Nobody’s door seemed ever to be locked in Wilbraham Crescent.
“And how are you getting on with things?” she asked chattily. “He seems to have married verymuch below him.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Who did—I’ve been away,” I explained.
“Oh, I see. Shadowing someone, I suppose. I meant that Mrs. Rival. I went to the inquest. Sucha common-looking woman. I must say she didn’t seem much upset by her husband’s death.”
“She hadn’t see him for fifteen years,” I explained.
“Angus and I have been married for twenty years.” She sighed. “It’s a long time. And so muchgardening now that he isn’t at the university … It makes it difficult to know what to do withoneself.”
At that moment, Mr. McNaughton, spade in hand, came round the corner of the house.
“Oh, you’re back, my dear. Let me take the things—”
“Just put it in the kitchen,” said Mrs. McNaughton to me swiftly—her elbow nudged me. “Justthe Cornflakes and the eggs and a melon,” she said to her husband, smiling brightly.
I deposited the bag on the kitchen table. It clinked.
Cornflakes, my foot! I let my spy’s instincts take over. Under a camouflage2 of sheet gelatinewere three bottles of whisky.
I understood why Mrs. McNaughton was sometimes so bright and garrulous3 and why she wasoccasionally a little unsteady on her feet. And possibly why McNaughton had resigned his Chair.
It was a morning for neighbours. I met Mr. Bland4 as I was going along the crescent towardsAlbany Road. Mr. Bland seemed in very good form. He recognized me at once.
“How are you? How’s crime? Got your dead body identified, I see. Seems to have treated thatwife of his rather badly. By the way, excuse me, you’re not one of the locals, are you?”
I said evasively I had come down from London.
“So the Yard was interested, was it?”
“Well—” I drew the word out in a noncommittal way.
“I understand. Mustn’t tell tales out of school. You weren’t at the inquest, though.”
I said I had been abroad.
“So have I, my boy. So have I!” He winked5 at me.
“Gay Paree?” I asked, winking6 back.
“Wish it had been. No, only a day trip to Boulogne.”
He dug me in the side with his elbow (quite like Mrs. McNaughton!).
“Didn’t take the wife. Teamed up with a very nice little bit. Blonde. Quite a hot number.”
“Business trip?” I said. We both laughed like men of the world.
He went on towards No. 61 and I walked on towards Albany Road.
I was dissatisfied with myself. As Poirot had said, there should have been more to be got out ofthe neighbours. It was positively7 unnatural8 that nobody should have seen anything! PerhapsHardcastle had asked the wrong questions. But could I think of any better ones? As I turned intoAlbany Road I made a mental list of questions. It went something like this:
Mr. Curry9 (Castleton) had been doped—When? ditto had been killed—Where?
Mr. Curry (Castleton) had been taken to No. 19—How?
Somebody must have seen something!—Who? ditto—What?
I turned to the left again. Now I was walking along Wilbraham Crescent just as I had walked onSeptember 9th. Should I call on Miss Pebmarsh? Ring the bell and say—well, what should I say?
Call on Miss Waterhouse? But what on earth could I say to her?
Mrs. Hemming10 perhaps? It wouldn’t much matter what one said to Mrs. Hemming. Shewouldn’t be listening, and what she said, however haphazard11 and irrelevant12, might lead tosomething.
I walked along, mentally noting the numbers as I had before. Had the late Mr. Curry comealong here, also noting numbers, until he came to the number he meant to visit?
Wilbraham Crescent had never looked primmer13. I almost found myself exclaiming in Victorianfashion, “Oh! if these stones could speak!” It was a favourite quotation14 in those days, so it seemed.
But stones don’t speak, no more do bricks and mortar15, nor even plaster nor stucco. WilbrahamCrescent remained silently itself. Old- fashioned, aloof16, rather shabby, and not given toconversation. Disapproving17, I was sure, of itinerant18 prowlers who didn’t even know what theywere looking for.
There were few people about, a couple of boys on bicycles passed me, two women withshopping bags. The houses themselves might have been embalmed19 like mummies for all the signsof life there were in them. I knew why that was. It was already, or close upon, the sacred hour ofone, an hour sanctified by English traditions to the consuming of a midday meal. In one or twohouses I could see through the uncurtained windows a group of one or two people round a diningtable, but even that was exceedingly rare. Either the windows were discreetly20 screened with nylonnetting, as opposed to the once popular Nottingham lace, or—which was far more probable—anyone who was at home was eating in the “modern” kitchen, according to the custom of the1960’s.
It was, I reflected, a perfect hour of day for a murder. Had the murderer thought of that, Iwondered? Was it part of the murderer’s plan? I came at last to No. 19.
Like so many other moronic21 members of the populace I stood and stared. There was, by now,no other human being in sight. “No neighbours,” I said sadly, “no intelligent onlookers22.”
I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. I had been wrong. There was a neighbour here, all right, avery useful neighbour if the neighbour had only been able to speak. I had been leaning against thepost of No. 20, and the same large orange cat I had seen before was sitting on the gatepost. Istopped and exchanged a few words with him, first detaching his playful claw from my shoulder.
“If cats could speak,” I offered him as a conversational23 opening.
The orange cat opened his mouth, gave a loud melodious24 miaow.
“I know you can,” I said. “I know you can speak just as well as I can. But you’re not speakingmy language. Were you sitting here that day? Did you see who went into that house or came out ofit? Do you know all about what happened? I wouldn’t put it past you, puss.”
The cat took my remark in poor part. He turned his back on me and began to switch his tail.
“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” I said.
He gave me a cold look over his shoulder and started industriously25 to wash himself.
Neighbours, I reflected bitterly! There was no doubt about it, neighbours were in short supply inWilbraham Crescent. What I wanted—what Hardcastle wanted—was some nice gossipy, prying,peering old lady with time hanging heavy on her hands. Always hoping to look out and seesomething scandalous. The trouble is that that kind of old lady seems to have died out nowadays.
They are all sitting grouped together in Old Ladies’ Homes with every comfort for the aged26, orcrowding up hospitals where beds are needed urgently for the really sick. The lame27 and the haltand the old didn’t live in their own houses anymore, attended by a faithful domestic or by somehalf-witted poor relation glad of a good home. It was a serious setback28 to criminal investigation29.
I looked across the road. Why couldn’t there be any neighbours there? Why couldn’t there be aneat row of houses facing me instead of that great, inhuman-looking concrete block. A kind ofhuman beehive, no doubt, tenanted by worker bees who were out all day and only came back inthe evening to wash their smalls or make up their faces and go out to meet their young men. Bycontrast with the inhumanity of that block of flats I began almost to have a kindly30 feeling for thefaded Victorian gentility of Wilbraham Crescent.
My eye was caught by a flash of light somewhere halfway31 up the building. It puzzled me. Istared up. Yes, there it came again. An open window and someone looking through it. A faceslightly obliterated32 by something that was being held up to it. The flash of light came again. Idropped a hand into my pocket. I keep a good many things in my pockets, things that may beuseful. You’d be surprised at what is useful sometimes. A little adhesive33 tape. A few quiteinnocent-looking instruments which are quite capable of opening most locked doors, a tin of greypowder labelled something which it isn’t and an insufflator to use with it, and one or two otherlittle gadgets34 which most people wouldn’t recognize for what they are. Amongst other things I hada pocket bird watcher. Not a high-powered one but just good enough to be useful. I took this outand raised it to my eye.
There was a child at the window. I could see a long plait of hair lying over one shoulder. Shehad a pair of small opera glasses and she was studying me with what might have been flatteringattention. As there was nothing else for her to look at, however, it might not be as flattering as itseemed. At that moment, however, there was another midday distraction35 in Wilbraham Crescent.
A very old Rolls-Royce came with dignity along the road driven by a very elderly chauffeur36. Helooked dignified37 but rather disgusted with life. He passed me with the solemnity of a wholeprocession of cars. My child observer, I noticed, was now training her opera glasses on him. Istood there, thinking.
It is always my belief that if you wait long enough, you’re bound to have some stroke of luck.
Something that you can’t count upon and that you would never have thought of, but which justhappens. Was it possible that this might be mine? Looking up again at the big square block, Inoted carefully the position of the particular window I was interested in, counting from it to eachend and up from the ground. Third floor. Then I walked along the street till I came to the entranceto the block of flats. It had a wide carriagedrive sweeping38 round the block with neatly39 spacedflower beds at strategic positions in the grass.
It’s always well, I find, to go through all the motions, so I stepped off the carriage drive towardsthe block, looked up over my head as though startled, bent40 down to the grass, pretended to huntabout and finally straightened up, apparently41 transferring something from my hand to my pocket.
Then I walked round the block until I came to the entrance.
At most times of the day I should think there was a porter here, but between the sacred hour ofone and two the entrance hall was empty. There was a bell with a large sign above it, sayingPORTER, but I did not ring it. There was an automatic lift and I went to it and pressed a button forthe third floor. After that I had to check things pretty carefully.
It looks simple enough from the outside to place one particular room, but the inside of abuilding is confusing. However, I’ve had a good deal of practice at that sort of thing in my time,and I was fairly sure that I’d got the right door. The number on it, for better or worse, was No. 77.
“Well,” I thought, “sevens are lucky. Here goes.” I pressed the bell and stood back to await events.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
cannoned
|
|
| vi.与…猛撞（cannon的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
camouflage
|
|
| n./v.掩饰，伪装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
garrulous
|
|
| adj.唠叨的，多话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
bland
|
|
| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
winked
|
|
| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
winking
|
|
| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
positively
|
|
| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
unnatural
|
|
| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
curry
|
|
| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
hemming
|
|
| 卷边 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
haphazard
|
|
| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
irrelevant
|
|
| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
primmer
|
|
| adj.循规蹈矩的( prim的比较级 )；整洁的；（人）一本正经 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
14
quotation
|
|
| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
mortar
|
|
| n.灰浆，灰泥；迫击炮；v.把…用灰浆涂接合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
aloof
|
|
| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
disapproving
|
|
| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
itinerant
|
|
| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
embalmed
|
|
| adj.用防腐药物保存（尸体）的v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的过去式和过去分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
discreetly
|
|
| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
moronic
|
|
| a.低能的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
onlookers
|
|
| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
conversational
|
|
| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
melodious
|
|
| adj.旋律美妙的，调子优美的，音乐性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
industriously
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
aged
|
|
| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
lame
|
|
| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
setback
|
|
| n.退步，挫折，挫败 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
investigation
|
|
| n.调查，调查研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
halfway
|
|
| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
obliterated
|
|
| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
adhesive
|
|
| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
gadgets
|
|
| n.小机械，小器具（ gadget的名词复数 ） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
distraction
|
|
| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
chauffeur
|
|
| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
dignified
|
|
| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |