Dr. Ferguson was a man of sixty, of Scottish extraction with a brusque manner. He looked Poirotup and down with shrewd eyes under bristling1 eyebrows2, and said:
“Well, what’s all this about? Sit down. Mind that chair leg. The castor’s loose.
“I should perhaps explain,” said Dr. Ferguson. “Everybody knows everything in a place likethis. That authoress woman brought you down here as God’s greatest detective to puzzle policeofficers. That’s more or less right, isn’t it?”
“In part,” said Poirot. “I came here to visit an old friend ex-Superintendent Spence, who liveswith his sister here.”
“Spence? Hm. Good type, Spence. Bulldog breed. Good honest police officer of the old type.
No graft3. No violence. Not stupid either. Straight as a die.”
“You appraise4 him correctly.”
“Well,” said Ferguson, “what did you tell him and what did he tell you?”
“Both he and Inspector5 Raglan have been exceedingly kind to me. I hope you will likewise.”
“I’ve nothing to be kind about,” said Ferguson. “I don’t know what happened. Child gets herhead shoved in a bucket and is drowned in the middle of a party. Nasty business. Mind you, doingin a child isn’t anything to be startled about nowadays. I’ve been called out to look at too manymurdered children in the last seven to ten years—far too many. A lot of people who ought to beunder mental restraint aren’t under mental restraint. No room in the asylums6. They go about,nicely spoken, nicely got up and looking like everybody else, looking for somebody they can doin. And enjoy themselves. Don’t usually do it at a party, though. Too much chance of gettingcaught, I suppose, but novelty appeals even to a mentally disturbed killer7.”
“Have you any idea who killed her?”
“Do you really suppose that’s a question I can answer just like that? I’d have to have someevidence, wouldn’t I? I’d have to be sure.”
“You could guess,” said Poirot.
“Anyone can guess. If I’m called in to a case I have to guess whether the chap’s going to havemeasles or whether it’s a case of an allergy9 to shellfish or to feather pillows. I have to askquestions to find out what they’ve been eating, or drinking, or sleeping on, or what other childrenthey’ve been meeting. Whether they’ve been in a crowded bus with Mrs. Smith’s or Mrs.
Robinson’s children who’ve all got the measles8, and a few other things. Then I advance a tentativeopinion as to which it is of the various possibilities, and that, let me tell you, is what’s calleddiagnosis. You don’t do it in a hurry and you make sure.”
“Did you know this child?”
“Of course. She was one of my patients. There are two of us here. Myself and Worrall. I happento be the Reynolds’ doctor. She was quite a healthy child, Joyce. Had the usual small childishailments. Nothing peculiar10 or out of the way. Ate too much, talked too much. Talking too muchhadn’t done her any harm. Eating too much gave her what used to be called in the old days abilious attack from time to time. She’d had mumps12 and chicken pox. Nothing else.”
“But she had perhaps talked too much on one occasion, as you suggest she might be able todo?”
“So that’s the tack11 you’re on? I heard some rumour13 of that. On the lines of ‘what the butlersaw’—only tragedy instead of comedy. Is that it?”
“It could form a motive14, a reason.”
“Oh yes. Grant you that. But there are other reasons. Mentally disturbed seems the usual answernowadays. At any rate, it does always in the Magistrates’ courts. Nobody gained by her death,nobody hated her. But it seems to me with children nowadays you don’t need to look for thereason. The reason’s in another place. The reason’s in the killer’s mind. His disturbed mind or hisevil mind or his kinky mind. Any kind of mind you like to call it. I’m not a psychiatrist15. There aretimes when I get tired of hearing those words: ‘Remanded for a psychiatrist’s report,’ after a ladhas broken in somewhere, smashed the looking glasses, pinched the bottles of whisky, stolen thesilver, knocked an old woman on the head. Doesn’t matter much what it is now. Remand them forthe psychiatrist’s report.”
“And who would you favour, in this case, to remand for a psychiatrist’s report?”
“You mean of those there at the ‘do’ the other night?”
“Yes.”
“The murderer would have had to be there, wouldn’t he? Otherwise there wouldn’t have been amurder. Right? He was among the guests, he was among the helpers or he walked in through thewindow with malice16 aforethought. Probably he knew the fastenings of that house. Might havebeen in there before, looking round. Take your man or boy. He wants to kill someone. Not at allunusual. Over in Medchester we had a case of that. Came to light after about six or seven years.
Boy of thirteen. Wanted to kill someone, so he killed a child of nine, pinched a car, drove it sevenor eight miles into a copse, burned her there, went away, and as far as we know led a blamelesslife until he was twenty-one or two. Mind you, we have only his word for that, he may have goneon doing it. Probably did. Found he liked killing17 people. Don’t suppose he’s killed too many, orsome police force would have been on to him before now. But every now and then he felt the urge.
Psychiatrist’s report. Committed murder while mentally disturbed. I’m trying to say myself thatthat’s what happened here. That sort of thing, anyway. I’m not a psychiatrist myself, thankgoodness. I have a few psychiatrist friends. Some of them are sensible chaps. Some of them—well, I’ll go as far as saying they ought to be remanded for a psychiatrist’s report themselves. Thischap who killed Joyce probably had nice parents, ordinary manners, good appearance. Nobody’ddream anything was wrong with him. Ever had a bite at a nice red juicy apple and there, down bythe core, something rather nasty rears itself up and wags its head at you? Plenty of human beingsabout like that. More than there used to be, I’d say nowadays.”
“And you’ve no suspicion of your own?”
“I can’t stick my neck out and diagnose a murderer without some evidence.”
“Still, you admit it must have been someone at the party. You cannot have a murder without amurderer.”
“You can easily in some detective stories that are written. Probably your pet authoress writesthem like that. But in this case I agree. The murderer must have been there. A guest, a domestichelp, someone who walked in through the window. Easily done if he’d studied the catch of thewindow beforehand. It might have struck some crazy brain that it would be a novel idea and a bitof fun to have a murder at a Hallowe’en party. That’s all you’ve got to start off with, isn’t it? Justsomeone who was at the party.”
Under bushy brows a pair of eyes twinkled at Poirot.
“I was there myself,” he said. “Came in late, just to see what was doing.”
He nodded his head vigorously.
“Yes, that’s the problem, isn’t it? Like a social announcement in the papers:
‘Amongst those present was—
A Murderer.’”
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1
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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graft
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| n.移植，嫁接，艰苦工作，贪污；v.移植，嫁接 | |
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appraise
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| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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asylums
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| n.避难所( asylum的名词复数 )；庇护；政治避难；精神病院 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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allergy
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| n.(因食物、药物等而引起的)过敏症 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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12
mumps
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| n.腮腺炎 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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14
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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psychiatrist
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| n.精神病专家；精神病医师 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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