The premises1 of Fullerton, Harrison and Leadbetter were typical of an old-fashioned firm of theutmost respectability. The hand of time had made itself felt. There were no more Harrisons and nomore Leadbetters. There was a Mr. Atkinson and a young Mr. Cole, and there was still Mr. JeremyFullerton, senior partner.
A lean, elderly man, Mr. Fullerton, with an impassive face, a dry, legal voice, and eyes thatwere unexpectedly shrewd. Beneath his hand rested a sheet of notepaper, the few words on whichhe had just read. He read them once again, assessing their meaning very exactly. Then he looked atthe man whom the note introduced to him.
“Monsieur Hercule Poirot?” He made his own assessment2 of the visitor. An elderly man, aforeigner, very dapper in his dress, unsuitably attired3 as to the feet in patent leather shoes whichwere, so Mr. Fullerton guessed shrewdly, too tight for him. Faint lines of pain were alreadyetching themselves round the corners of his eyes. A dandy, a fop, a foreigner and recommended tohim by, of all people, Inspector4 Henry Raglan, C.I.D., and also vouched5 for by SuperintendentSpence (retired), formerly6 of Scotland Yard.
“Superintendent Spence, eh?” said Mr. Fullerton.
Fullerton knew Spence. A man who had done good work in his time, had been highly thought ofby his superiors. Faint memories flashed across his mind. Rather a celebrated7 case, morecelebrated actually than it had showed any signs of being, a case that had seemed cut and dried. Ofcourse! It came to him that his nephew Robert had been connected with it, had been JuniorCounsel. A psychopathic killer8, it had seemed, a man who had hardly bothered to try and defendhimself, a man whom you might have thought really wanted to be hanged (because it had meanthanging at that time). No fifteen years, or indefinite number of years in prison. No. You paid thefull penalty—and more’s the pity they’ve given it up, so Mr. Fullerton thought in his dry mind.
The young thugs nowadays thought they didn’t risk much by prolonging assault to the point whereit became mortal. Once your man was dead, there’d be no witness to identify you.
Spence had been in charge of the case, a quiet, dogged man who had insisted all along thatthey’d got the wrong man. And they had got the wrong man, and the person who found theevidence that they’d got the wrong man was some sort of an amateurish9 foreigner. Some retireddetective chap from the Belgian police force. A good age then. And now—senile, probably,thought Mr. Fullerton, but all the same he himself would take the prudent10 course. Information,that’s what was wanted from him. Information which, after all, could not be a mistake to give,since he could not see that he was likely to have any information that could be useful in thisparticular matter. A case of child homicide.
Mr. Fullerton might think he had a fairly shrewd idea of who had committed that homicide, buthe was not so sure as he would like to be, because there were at least three claimants in the matter.
Any one of three young ne’er-do-wells might have done it. Words floated through his head.
Mentally retarded11. Psychiatrist’s report. That’s how the whole matter would end, no doubt. All thesame, to drown a child during a party—that was rather a different cup of tea from one of theinnumerable school children who did not arrive home and who had accepted a lift in a car afterhaving been repeatedly warned not to do so, and who had been found in a nearby copse or gravelpit. A gravel12 pit now. When was that? Many, many years ago now.
All this took about four minutes’ time and Mr. Fullerton then cleared his throat in a slightlyasthmatic fashion, and spoke13.
“Monsieur Hercule Poirot,” he said again. “What can I do for you? I suppose it’s the business ofthis young girl, Joyce Reynolds. Nasty business, very nasty business. I can’t see actually where Ican assist you. I know very little about it all.”
“But you are, I believe, the legal adviser14 to the Drake family?”
“Oh yes, yes. Hugo Drake, poor chap. Very nice fellow. I’ve known them for years, ever sincethey bought Apple Trees and came here to live. Sad thing, polio—he contracted it when they wereholidaying abroad one year. Mentally, of course, his health was quite unimpaired. It’s sad when ithappens to a man who has been a good athlete all his life, a sportsman, good at games and all therest of it. Yes. Sad business to know you’re a cripple for life.”
“You were also, I believe, in charge of the legal affairs of Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe?”
“The aunt, yes. Remarkable15 woman really. She came here to live after her health broke down,so as to be near her nephew and his wife. Bought that white elephant of a place, Quarry16 House.
Paid far more than it was worth—but money was no object to her. She was very well off. Shecould have found a more attractive house, but it was the quarry itself that fascinated her. Got alandscape gardener on to it, fellow quite high up in his profession, I believe. One of thosehandsome, long-haired chaps, but he had ability all right. He did well for himself in this quarrygarden work. Got himself quite a reputation over it, illustrated17 in Homes and Gardens and all therest of it. Yes, Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe knew how to pick people. It wasn’t just a question of ahandsome young man as a protégé. Some elderly women are foolish that way, but this chap hadbrains and was at the top of his profession. But I’m wandering on a bit. Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythedied nearly two years ago.”
“Quite suddenly.”
Fullerton looked at Poirot sharply.
“Well, no, I wouldn’t say that. She had a heart condition and doctors tried to keep her fromdoing too much, but she was the sort of woman that you couldn’t dictate18 to. She wasn’t ahypochondriac type.” He coughed and said, “But I expect we are getting away from the subjectabout which you came to talk to me.”
“Not really,” said Poirot, “although I would like, if I may, to ask you a few questions on acompletely different matter. Some information about one of your employees, by name LesleyFerrier.”
Mr. Fullerton looked somewhat surprised. “Lesley Ferrier?” he said. “Lesley Ferrier. Let mesee. Really you know, I’d nearly forgotten his name. Yes, yes, of course. Got himself knifed,didn’t he?”
“That is the man I mean.”
“Well, I don’t really know that I can tell you much about him. It took place some years ago.
Knifed near the Green Swan one night. No arrest was ever made. I daresay the police had someidea who was responsible, but it was mainly, I think, a matter of getting evidence.”
“The motive19 was emotional?” inquired Poirot.
“Oh yes, I should think certainly so. Jealousy20, you know. He’d been going steady with amarried woman. Her husband had a pub. The Green Swan at Woodleigh Common. Unpretentiousplace. Then it seems young Lesley started playing around with another young woman—or morethan one, it was said. Quite a one for the girls, he was. There was a bit of trouble once or twice.”
“You were satisfied with him as an employee?”
“I would rather describe it as not dissatisfied. He had his points. He handled clients well andwas studying for his articles, and if only he’d paid more attention to his position and keeping up agood standard of behaviour, it would have been better instead of mixing himself up with one girlafter another, most of whom I am apt in my old-fashioned way to consider as considerably21 beneathhim in station. There was a row one night at the Green Swan, and Lesley Ferrier was knifed on hisway home.”
“Was one of the girls responsible, or would it be Mrs. Green Swan, do you think?”
“Really, it is not a case of knowing anything definite. I believe the police considered it was acase of jealousy—but—” He shrugged22 his shoulders.
“But you are not sure?”
“Oh, it happens,” said Mr. Fullerton. “‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ That is alwaysbeing quoted in Court. Sometimes it’s true.”
“But I think I discern that you yourself are not at all sure that that was the case here.”
“Well, I should have preferred rather more evidence, shall we say. The police would havepreferred rather more evidence, too. Public prosecutor23 threw it out, I believe.”
“It could have been something quite different?”
“Oh yes. One could propound24 several theories. Not a very stable character, young Ferrier. Wellbrought up. Nice mother—a widow. Father not so satisfactory. Got himself out of several scrapesby the skin of his teeth. Hard luck on his wife. Our young man in some ways resembled his father.
He was associated once or twice with rather a doubtful crowd. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He was still young. But I warned him that he was getting himself mixed up with the wrong lot.
Too closely connected with fiddling25 transactions outside the law. Frankly26, but for his mother, Iwouldn’t have kept him. He was young, and he had ability; I gave him a warning or two which Ihoped might do the trick. But there’s a lot of corruption27 about these days. It’s been on the increasefor the last ten years.”
“Someone might have had it in for him, you think?”
“Quite possible. These associations—gangs is a rather melodramatic word—but you run acertain danger when you get tangled28 up with them. Any idea that you may split on them, and aknife between your shoulder blades isn’t an uncommon29 thing to happen.”
“Nobody saw it happen?”
“No. Nobody saw it happen. They wouldn’t, of course. Whoever took the job on would have allthe arrangements nicely made. Alibi30 at the proper place and time, and so on and so on.”
“Yet somebody might have seen it happen. Somebody quite unlikely. A child, for instance.”
“Late at night? In the neighbourhood of the Green Swan? Hardly a very credible31 idea, MonsieurPoirot.”
“A child,” persisted Poirot, “who might remember. A child coming home from a friend’s house.
At some short distance, perhaps, from her own home. She might have been coming by a footpathor seen something from behind a hedge.”
“Really, Monsieur Poirot, what an imagination you have got. What you are saying seems to memost unlikely.”
“It does not seem so unlikely to me,” said Poirot. “Children do see things. They are so often,you see, not expected to be where they are.”
“But surely when they go home and relate what they have seen?”
“They might not,” said Poirot. “They might not, you see, be sure of what they had seen.
Especially if what they had seen had been faintly frightening to them. Children do not always gohome and report a street accident they have seen, or some unexpected violence. Children keeptheir secrets very well. Keep them and think about them. Sometimes they like to feel that theyknow a secret, a secret which they are keeping to themselves.”
“They’d tell their mothers,” said Mr. Fullerton.
“I am not so sure of that,” said Poirot. “In my experience the things that children do not telltheir mothers are quite numerous.”
“What interests you so much, may I know, about this case of Lesley Ferrier? The regrettabledeath of a young man by a violence which is so lamentably32 often amongst us nowadays?”
“I know nothing about him. But I wanted to know something about him because his is a violentdeath that occurred not many years ago. That might be important to me.”
“You know, Mr. Poirot,” said Mr. Fullerton, with some slight acerbity33. “I really cannot quitemake out why you have come to me, and in what you are really interested. You cannot surelysuspect any tie-up between the death of Joyce Reynolds and the death of a young man of promisebut slightly criminal activities who has been dead for some years?”
“One can suspect anything,” said Poirot. “One has to find out more.”
“Excuse me, what one has to have in all matters dealing34 with crime, is evidence.”
“You have perhaps heard that the dead girl Joyce was heard by several witnesses to say that shehad with her own eyes witnessed a murder.”
“In a place like this,” said Mr. Fullerton, “one usually hears any rumour35 that may be goinground. One usually hears it, too, if I may add these words, in a singularly exaggerated form notusually worthy36 of credence37.”
“That also,” said Poirot, “is quite true. Joyce was, I gather, just thirteen years of age. A child ofnine could remember something she had seen—a hit-and-run accident, a fight or a struggle withknives on a dark evening, or a schoolteacher who was strangled, say—all these things might leavea very strong impression on a child’s mind about which she would not speak, being uncertain,perhaps, of the actual facts she had seen, and mulling them over in her own mind. Forgetting aboutthem even, possibly, until something happened to remind her. You agree that that is a possiblehappening?”
“Oh yes, yes, but I hardly—I think it is an extremely far-fetched supposition.”
“You had, also, I believe, a disappearance38 here of a foreign girl. Her name, I believe, was Olgaor Sonia—I am not sure of the surname.”
“Olga Seminoff. Yes, indeed.”
“Not, I fear, a very reliable character?”
“No.”
“She was companion or nurse attendant to Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe, was she not, whom youdescribed to me just now? Mrs. Drake’s aunt—”
“Yes. She had had several girls in that position—two other foreign girls, I think, one of themwith whom she quarrelled almost immediately, and another one who was nice but painfully stupid.
Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe was not one to suffer fools gladly. Olga, her last venture, seems to havesuited her very well. She was not, if I remember rightly, a particularly attractive girl,” said Mr.
Fullerton. “She was short, rather stocky, had rather a dour39 manner, and people in theneighbourhood did not like her very much.”
“But Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe did like her,” suggested Poirot.
“She became very much attached to her—unwisely so, it seemed at one moment.”
“Ah, indeed.”
“I have no doubt,” said Mr. Fullerton, “that I am not telling you anything that you have notheard already. These things, as I say, go round the place like wildfire.”
“I understand that Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe left a large sum of money to the girl.”
“A most surprising thing to happen,” said Mr. Fullerton. “Mrs. Llewellyn- Smythe had notchanged her fundamental testamentary disposition40 for many years, except for adding new charitiesor altering legacies41 left void by death. Perhaps I am telling you what you know already, if you areinterested in this matter. Her money had always been left jointly42 to her nephew, Hugo Drake, andhis wife, who was also his first cousin, and so also niece to Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe. If either ofthem predeceased her the money went to the survivor43. A good many bequests44 were left to charitiesand to old servants. But what was alleged45 to be her final disposal of her property was made aboutthree weeks before her death, and not, as heretofore, drawn46 up by our firm. It was a codicil47 writtenin her own handwriting. It included one or two charities—not so many as before—the old servantshad no legacies at all, and the whole residue48 of her considerable fortune was left to Olga Seminoffin gratitude49 for the devoted50 service and affection she had shown her. A most astonishingdisposition, one that seemed totally unlike anything Mrs. Llewellyn- Smythe had ever donebefore.”
“And then?” said Poirot.
“You have presumably heard more or less the developments. From the evidence of handwritingexperts, it became clear that the codicil was a complete forgery51. It bore only a faint resemblance toMrs. Llewellyn-Smythe’s handwriting, no more than that. Mrs. Smythe had disliked the typewriterand had frequently got Olga to write letters of a personal nature, as far as possible copying heremployer’s handwriting—sometimes, even, signing the letter with her employer’s signature. Shehad had plenty of practice in doing this. It seems that when Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe died the girlwent one step further and thought that she was proficient52 enough to make the handwritingacceptable as that of her employer. But that sort of thing won’t do with experts. No, indeed itwon’t.”
“Proceedings53 were about to be taken to contest the document?”
“Quite so. There was, of course, the usual legal delay before the proceedings actually came tocourt. During that period the young lady lost her nerve and well, as you said yourself just now, she—disappeared.”
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1
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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assessment
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| n.评价；评估；对财产的估价，被估定的金额 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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5
vouched
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| v.保证( vouch的过去式和过去分词 )；担保；确定；确定地说 | |
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6
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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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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amateurish
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| n.业余爱好的，不熟练的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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retarded
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| a.智力迟钝的，智力发育迟缓的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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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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adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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propound
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| v.提出 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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lamentably
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| adv.哀伤地，拙劣地 | |
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acerbity
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| n.涩，酸，刻薄 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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credence
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| n.信用，祭器台，供桌，凭证 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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legacies
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| n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 )；遗留之物；遗留问题；后遗症 | |
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jointly
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| ad.联合地，共同地 | |
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survivor
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| n.生存者，残存者，幸存者 | |
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44
bequests
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| n.遗赠( bequest的名词复数 )；遗产，遗赠物 | |
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45
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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47
codicil
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| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
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48
residue
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| n.残余，剩余，残渣 | |
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49
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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50
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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51
forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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52
proficient
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| adj.熟练的，精通的；n.能手，专家 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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