When he left Mrs. Butler’s house, Poirot took the same way as had been shown him by Miranda.
The aperture1 in the hedge, it seemed to him, had been slightly enlarged since last time. Somebody,perhaps, with slightly more bulk than Miranda, had used it also. He ascended2 the path in thequarry, noticing once more the beauty of the scene. A lovely spot, and yet in some way, Poirot feltas he had felt before, that it could be a haunted spot. There was a kind of pagan ruthlessness aboutit. It could be along these winding4 paths that the fairies hunted their victims down or a coldgoddess decreed that sacrifices would have to be offered.
He could understand why it had not become a picnic spot. One would not want for some reasonto bring your hard-boiled eggs and your lettuce5 and your oranges and sit down here and crackjokes and have a jollification. It was different, quite different. It would have been better, perhaps,he thought suddenly, if Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe had not wanted this fairy-like transformation6.
Quite a modest sunk garden could have been made out of a quarry3 without the atmosphere, but shehad been an ambitious woman, ambitious and a very rich woman. He thought for a moment or twoabout Wills, the kind of Wills made by rich women, the kind of lies told about Wills made by richwomen, the places in which the Wills of rich widows were sometimes hidden, and he tried to puthimself back into the mind of a forger7. Undoubtably the Will offered for probate had been aforgery. Mr. Fullerton was a careful and competent lawyer. He was sure of that. The kind oflawyer, too, who would never advise a client to bring a case or to take legal proceedings9 unlessthere was very good evidence and justification10 for so doing.
He turned a corner of the pathway feeling for the moment that his feet were much moreimportant than his speculations11. Was he taking a short cut to Superintendent12 Spence’s dwelling13 orwas he not? As the crow flies, perhaps, but the main road might have been more good to his feet.
This path was not a grassy14 or mossy one, it had the quarry hardness of stone. Then he paused.
In front of him were two figures. Sitting on an outcrop of rock was Michael Garfield. He had asketching block on his knees and he was drawing, his attention fully15 on what he was doing. A littleway away from him, standing16 close beside a minute but musical stream that flowed down fromabove, Miranda Butler was standing. Hercule Poirot forgot his feet, forgot the pains and ills of thehuman body, and concentrated again on the beauty that human beings could attain17. There was nodoubt that Michael Garfield was a very beautiful young man. He found it difficult to know whetherhe himself liked Michael Garfield or not. It is always difficult to know if you like anyone beautiful.
You like beauty to look at, at the same time you dislike beauty almost on principle. Women couldbe beautiful, but Hercule Poirot was not at all sure that he liked beauty in men. He would not haveliked to be a beautiful young man himself, not that there had ever been the least chance of that.
There was only one thing about his own appearance which really pleased Hercule Poirot, and thatwas the profusion18 of his moustaches, and the way they responded to grooming19 and treatment andtrimming. They were magnificent. He knew of nobody else who had any moustache half as good.
He had never been handsome or good-looking. Certainly never beautiful.
And Miranda? He thought again, as he had thought before, that it was her gravity that was soattractive. He wondered what passed through her mind. It was the sort of thing one would neverknow. She would not say what she was thinking easily. He doubted if she would tell you what shewas thinking, if you asked her. She had an original mind, he thought, a reflective mind. He thoughttoo she was vulnerable. Very vulnerable. There were other things about her that he knew, orthought he knew. It was only thinking so far, but yet he was almost sure.
Michael Garfield looked up and said,
“Ha! Se?or Moustachios. A very good afternoon to you, sir.”
“Can I look at what you are doing or would it incommode you? I do not want to be intrusive20.”
“You can look,” said Michael Garfield, “it makes no difference to me.” He added gently, “I’menjoying myself very much.”
Poirot came to stand behind his shoulder. He nodded. It was a very delicate pencil drawing, thelines almost invisible. The man could draw, Poirot thought. Not only design gardens. He said,almost under his breath:
“Exquisite!”
“I think so too,” said Michael Garfield.
He let it be left doubtful whether he referred to the drawing he was making, or to the sitter.
“Why?” asked Poirot.
“Why am I doing it? Do you think I have a reason?”
“You might have.”
“You’re quite right. If I go away from here, there are one or two things I want to remember.
Miranda is one of them.”
“Would you forget her easily?”
“Very easily. I am like that. But to have forgotten something or someone, to be unable to bringa face, a turn of a shoulder, a gesture, a tree, a flower, a contour of landscape, to know what it waslike to see it but not to be able to bring that image in front of one’s eyes, that sometimes causes—what shall I say—almost agony. You see, you record—and it all passes away.”
“Not the Quarry Garden or park. That has not passed away.”
“Don’t you think so? It soon will. It soon will if no one is here. Nature takes over, you know. Itneeds love and attention and care and skill. If a Council takes it over—and that’s what happensvery often nowadays—then it will be what they call ‘kept up.’ The latest sort of shrubs21 may be putin, extra paths will be made, seats will be put at certain distances. Litter bins22 even may be erected23.
Oh, they are so careful, so kind at preserving. You can’t preserve this. It’s wild. To keepsomething wild is far more difficult than to preserve it.”
“Monsieur Poirot.” Miranda’s voice came across the stream.
Poirot moved forward, so that he came within earshot of her.
“So I find you here. So you came to sit for your portrait, did you?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t come for that. That just happened.”
“Yes,” said Michael Garfield, “yes, it just happened. A piece of luck sometimes comes one’sway.”
“You were just walking in your favourite garden?”
“I was looking for the well, really,” said Miranda.
“A well?”
“There was a wishing well once in this wood.”
“In a former quarry? I didn’t know they kept wells in quarries24.”
“There was always a wood round the quarry. Well, there were always trees here. Michaelknows where the well is but he won’t tell me.”
“It will be much more fun for you,” said Michael Garfield, “to go on looking for it. Especiallywhen you’re not at all sure it really exists.”
“Old Mrs. Goodbody knows all about it.”
And added:
“She’s a witch.”
“Quite right,” said Michael. “She’s the local witch, Monsieur Poirot. There’s always a localwitch, you know, in most places. They don’t always call themselves witches, but everyone knows.
They tell a fortune or put a spell on your begonias or shrivel up your peonies or stop a farmer’scow from giving milk and probably give love potions as well.”
“It was a wishing well,” said Miranda. “People used to come here and wish. They had to goround it three times backwards25 and it was on the side of the hill, so it wasn’t always very easy todo.”
She looked past Poirot at Michael Garfield. “I shall find it one day,” she said, “even if youwon’t tell me. It’s here somewhere, but it was sealed up, Mrs. Goodbody said. Oh! years ago.
Sealed up because it was said to be dangerous. A child fell into it years ago—Kitty Somebody.
Someone else might have fallen into it.”
“Well, go on thinking so,” said Michael Garfield. “It’s a good local story, but there is a wishingwell over at Little Belling.”
“Of course,” said Miranda. “I know all about that one. It’s a very common one,” she said.
“Everybody knows about it, and it’s very silly. People throw pennies into it and there’s not anywater in it any more so there’s not even a splash.”
“Well, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll tell you when I find it,” said Miranda.
“You mustn’t always believe everything a witch says. I don’t believe any child ever fell into it. Iexpect a cat fell into it once and got drowned.”
“Ding dong dell, pussy’s in the well,” said Miranda. She got up. “I must go now,” she said.
“Mummy will be expecting me.”
She moved carefully from the knob of rock, smiled at both the men and went off down an evenmore intransigent path that ran the other side of the water.
“‘Ding dong dell,’” said Poirot, thoughtfully. “One believes what one wants to believe, MichaelGarfield. Was she right or was she not right?”
Michael Garfield looked at him thoughtfully, then he smiled.
“She is quite right,” he said. “There is a well, and it is as she says sealed up. I suppose it mayhave been dangerous. I don’t think it was ever a wishing well. I think that’s Mrs. Goodbody’s ownbit of fancy talk. There’s a wishing tree, or there was once. A beech26 tree halfway27 up the hillsidethat I believe people did go round three times backwards and wished.”
“What’s happened to that? Don’t they go round it any more?”
“No. I believe it was struck by lightning about six years ago. Split in two. So that pretty story’sgone west.”
“Have you told Miranda about that?”
“No. I thought I’d rather leave her with her well. A blasted beech wouldn’t be much fun for her,would it?”
“I must go on my way,” said Poirot.
“Going back to your police friend?”
“Yes.”
“You look tired.”
“I am tired,” said Hercule Poirot. “I am extremely tired.”
“You’d be more comfortable in canvas shoes or sandals.”
“Ah, ?a, non.”
“I see. You are sartorially28 ambitious.” He looked at Poirot. “The tout29 ensemble30, it is very goodand especially, if I may mention it, your superb moustache.”
“I am gratified,” said Poirot, “that you have noticed it.”
“The point is rather, could anyone not notice it?”
Poirot put his head on one side. Then he said:
“You spoke31 of the drawing you are doing because you wish to remember the young Miranda.
Does that mean you’re going away from here?”
“I have thought of it, yes.”
“Yet you are, it seems to me, bien placé ici.”
“Oh yes, eminently33 so. I have a house to live in, a house small but designed by myself, and Ihave my work, but that is less satisfactory than it used to be. So restlessness is coming over me.”
“Why is your work less satisfactory?”
“Because people wish me to do the most atrocious things. People who want to improve theirgardens, people who bought some land and they’re building a house and want the gardendesigned.”
“Are you not doing her garden for Mrs. Drake?”
“She wants me to, yes. I made suggestions for it and she seemed to agree with them. I don’tthink, though,” he added thoughtfully, “that I really trust her.”
“You mean that she would not let you have what you wanted?”
“I mean that she would certainly have what she wanted herself and that though she is attractedby the ideas I have set out, she would suddenly demand something quite different. Somethingutilitarian, expensive and showy, perhaps. She would bully34 me, I think. She would insist on herideas being carried out. I would not agree, and we should quarrel. So on the whole it is better Ileave here before I quarrel. And not only with Mrs. Drake but many other neighbours. I am quitewell-known. I don’t need to stay in one spot. I could go and find some other corner of England, orit could be some corner of Normandy or Brittany.”
“Somewhere where you can improve, or help, nature? Somewhere where you can experiment oryou can put strange things where they have never grown before, where neither sun will blister35 norfrost destroy? Some good stretch of barren land where you can have the fun of playing at beingAdam all over again? Have you always been restless?”
“I never stayed anywhere very long.”
“You have been to Greece?”
“Yes. I should like to go to Greece again. Yes, you have something there. A garden on a Greekhillside. There may be cypresses36 there, not much else. A barren rock. But if you wished, whatcould there not be?”
“A garden for gods to walk—”
“Yes. You’re quite a mind reader, aren’t you, Mr. Poirot?”
“I wish I were. There are so many things I would like to know and do not know.”
“You are talking now of something quite prosaic37, are you not?”
“Unfortunately so.”
“Arson38, murder and sudden death?”
“More or less. I do not know that I was considering arson. Tell me, Mr. Garfield, you have beenhere some considerable time, did you know a young man called Lesley Ferrier?”
“Yes, I remember him. He was in a Medchester solicitor’s office, wasn’t he? Fullerton, Harrisonand Leadbetter. Junior clerk, something of that kind. Good-looking chap.”
“He came to a sudden end, did he not?”
“Yes. Got himself knifed one evening. Woman trouble, I gather. Everyone seems to think thatthe police know quite well who did it, but they can’t get the evidence they want. He was more orless tied up with a woman called Sandra—can’t remember her name for the moment—SandraSomebody, yes. Her husband kept the local pub. She and young Lesley were running an affair, andthen Lesley took up with another girl. Or that was the story.”
“And Sandra did not like it?”
“No, she did not like it at all. Mind you, he was a great one for the girls. There were two orthree that he went around with.”
“Were they all English girls?”
“Why do you ask that, I wonder? No, I don’t think he confined himself to English girls, so longas they could speak enough English to understand more or less what he said to them, and he couldunderstand what they said to him.”
“There are doubtless from time to time foreign girls in this neighbourhood?”
“Of course there are. Is there any neighbourhood where there aren’t? Au pair girls—they’re apart of daily life. Ugly ones, pretty ones, honest ones, dishonest ones, ones that do some good todistracted mothers and some who are no use at all and some who walk out of the house.”
“Like the girl Olga did?”
“As you say, like the girl Olga did.”
“Was Lesley a friend of Olga’s?”
“Oh, that’s the way your mind is running. Yes, he was. I don’t think Mrs. Llewellyn-Smytheknew much about it. Olga was rather careful, I think. She spoke gravely of someone she hoped tomarry some day in her own country. I don’t know whether that was true or whether she made itup. Young Lesley was an attractive young man, as I said. I don’t know what he saw in Olga—shewasn’t very beautiful. Still—” he considered a minute or two “—she had a kind of intensity39 abouther. A young Englishman might have found that attractive, I think. Anyway, Lesley did all right,and his other girl friends weren’t pleased.”
“That is very interesting,” said Poirot. “I thought you might give me information that I wanted.”
Michael Garfield looked at him curiously40.
“Why? What’s it all about? Where does Lesley come in? Why this raking up of the past?”
“Well, there are things one wants to know. One wants to know how things come into being. Iam even looking farther back still. Before the time that those two, Olga Seminoff and LesleyFerrier, met secretly without Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe knowing about it.”
“Well, I’m not sure about that. That’s only my—well, it’s only my idea. I did come across themfairly frequently but Olga never confided41 in me. As for Lesley Ferrier, I hardly knew him.”
“I want to go back behind that. He had, I gather, certain disadvantages in his past.”
“I believe so. Yes, well, anyway it’s been said here locally. Mr. Fullerton took him on andhoped to make an honest man of him. He’s a good chap, old Fullerton.”
“His offence had been, I believe, forgery8?”
“Yes.”
“It was a first offence, and there were said to be extenuating42 circumstances. He had a sickmother or drunken father or something of that kind. Anyway, he got off lightly.”
“I never heard any of the details. It was something that he seemed to have got away with tobegin with, then accountants came along and found him out. I’m very vague. It’s only hearsay43.
Forgery. Yes, that was the charge. Forgery.”
“And when Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe died and her Will was to be admitted to probate, it wasfound the Will was forged.”
“Yes, I see the way your mind’s working. You’re fitting those two things as having aconnection with each other.”
“A man who was up to a point successful in forging. A man who became friends with the girl, agirl who, if a Will had been accepted when submitted to probate, would have inherited the largerpart of a vast fortune.”
“Yes, yes, that’s the way it goes.”
“And this girl and the man who had committed forgery were great friends. He had given up hisown girl and he’d tied up with the foreign girl instead.”
“What you’re suggesting is that that forged Will was forged by Lesley Ferrier.”
“There seems a likelihood of it, does there not?”
“Olga was supposed to have been able to copy Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe’s handwriting fairlywell, but it seemed to me always that that was rather a doubtful point. She wrote handwrittenletters for Mrs. Llewellyn-Smythe but I don’t suppose that they were really particularly similar.
Not enough to pass muster44. But if she and Lesley were in it together, that’s different. I daresay hecould pass off a good enough job and he was probably quite cocksure that it would go through.
But then he must have been sure of that when he committed his original offence, and he waswrong there, and I suppose he was wrong this time. I suppose that when the balloon went up,when the lawyers began making trouble and difficulties, and experts were called in to examinethings and started asking questions, it could be that she lost her nerve, and had a row with Lesley.
And then she cleared out, hoping he’d carry the can.”
He gave his head a sharp shake. “Why do you come and talk to me about things like that here,in my beautiful wood?”
“I wanted to know.”
“It’s better not to know. It’s better never to know. Better to leave things as they are. Not pushand pry45 and poke32.”
“You want beauty,” said Hercule Poirot. “Beauty at any price. For me, it is truth I want. Alwaystruth.”
Michael Garfield laughed. “Go on home to your police friends and leave me here in my localparadise. Get thee beyond me, Satan.”
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1
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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forger
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| v.伪造；n.（钱、文件等的）伪造者 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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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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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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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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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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grooming
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| n. 修饰, 美容，（动物）梳理毛发 | |
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intrusive
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| adj.打搅的；侵扰的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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bins
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| n.大储藏箱( bin的名词复数 )；宽口箱（如面包箱，垃圾箱等）v.扔掉，丢弃( bin的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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quarries
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| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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beech
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| n.山毛榉；adj.山毛榉的 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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sartorially
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tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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ensemble
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| n.合奏(唱)组；全套服装；整体，总效果 | |
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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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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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blister
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| n.水疱；(油漆等的)气泡；v.(使)起泡 | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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arson
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| n.纵火，放火 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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42
extenuating
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| adj.使减轻的，情有可原的v.（用偏袒的辩解或借口）减轻( extenuate的现在分词 )；低估，藐视 | |
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hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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