O n the way back, I proposed to Griselda that we should make a detour1 and go round by the barrow. I was anxious tosee if the police were at work and if so, what they had found. Griselda, however, had things to do at home, so I wasleft to make the expedition on my own.
I found Constable2 Hurst in charge of operations.
“No sign so far, sir,” he reported. “And yet it stands to reason that this is the only place for a cache.”
His use of the word cache puzzled me for a moment, as he pronounced it catch, but his real meaning occurred tome almost at once.
“Whatimeantersay is, sir, where else could the young woman be going starting into the wood by that path? It leadsto Old Hall, and it leads here, and that’s about all.”
“I suppose,” I said, “that Inspector3 Slack would disdain4 such a simple course as asking the young lady straightout.”
“Anxious not to put the wind up her,” said Hurst. “Anything she writes to Stone or he writes to her may throw lighton things—once she knows we’re on to her, she’d shut up like that.”
Like what exactly was left in doubt, but I personally doubted Miss Gladys Cram5 ever being shut up in the waydescribed. It was impossible to imagine her as other than overflowing6 with conversation.
“When a man’s an h’impostor, you want to know why he’s an h’impostor,” said Constable Hurst didactically.
“Naturally,” I said.
“And the answer is to be found in this here barrow—or else why was he forever messing about with it?”
“A raison d’être for prowling about,” I suggested, but this bit of French was too much for the constable. Herevenged himself for not understanding it by saying coldly:
“That’s the h’amateur’s point of view.”
“Anyway, you haven’t found the suitcase,” I said.
“We shall do, sir. Not a doubt of it.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said. “I’ve been thinking. Miss Marple said it was quite a short time before the girl reappearedempty-handed. In that case, she wouldn’t have had time to get up here and back.”
“You can’t take any notice of what old ladies say. When they’ve seen something curious, and are waiting all eagerlike, why, time simply flies for them. And anyway, no lady knows anything about time.”
I often wonder why the whole world is so prone7 to generalize. Generalizations8 are seldom if ever true and areusually utterly9 inaccurate10. I have a poor sense of time myself (hence the keeping of my clock fast) and Miss Marple, Ishould say, has a very acute one. Her clocks keep time to the minute and she herself is rigidly11 punctual on everyoccasion.
However, I had no intention of arguing with Constable Hurst on the point. I wished him good afternoon and goodluck and went on my way.
It was just as I was nearing home that the idea came to me. There was nothing to lead up to it. It just flashed intomy brain as a possible solution.
You will remember that on my first search of the path, the day after the murder, I had found the bushes disturbed ina certain place. They proved, or so I thought at the time, to have been disturbed by Lawrence, bent12 on the same errandas myself.
But I remembered that afterwards he and I together had come upon another faintly marked trail which proved to bethat of the Inspector. On thinking it over, I distinctly remembered that the first trail (Lawrence’s) had been much morenoticeable than the second, as though more than one person had been passing that way. And I reflected that that wasprobably what had drawn13 Lawrence’s attention to it in the first instance. Supposing that it had originally been made byeither Dr. Stone or else Miss Cram?
I remembered, or else I imagined remembering, that there had been several withered14 leaves on broken twigs15. If so,the trail could not have been made the afternoon of our search.
I was just approaching the spot in question. I recognized it easily enough and once more forced my way throughthe bushes. This time I noticed fresh twigs broken. Someone had passed this way since Lawrence and myself.
I soon came to the place where I had encountered Lawrence. The faint trail, however, persisted farther, and Icontinued to follow it. Suddenly it widened out into a little clearing, which showed signs of recent upheaval16. I say aclearing, because the denseness17 of the undergrowth was thinned out there, but the branches of the trees met overheadand the whole place was not more than a few feet across.
On the other side, the undergrowth grew densely18 again, and it seemed quite clear that no one had forced a waythrough it recently. Nevertheless, it seemed to have been disturbed in one place.
I went across and kneeled down, thrusting the bushes aside with both hands. A glint of shiny brown surfacerewarded me. Full of excitement, I thrust my arm in and with a good deal of difficulty I extracted a small brownsuitcase.
I uttered an ejaculation of triumph. I had been successful. Coldly snubbed by Constable Hurst, I had yet provedright in my reasoning. Here without doubt was the suitcase carried by Miss Cram. I tried the hasp, but it was locked.
As I rose to my feet I noticed a small brownish crystal lying on the ground. Almost automatically, I picked it upand slipped it into my pocket.
Then grasping my find by the handle, I retraced19 my steps to the path.
As I climbed over the stile into the lane, an agitated20 voice near at hand called out:
“Oh! Mr. Clement21. You’ve found it! How clever of you!”
Mentally registering the fact that in the art of seeing without being seen, Miss Marple had no rival, I balanced myfind on the palings between us.
“That’s the one,” said Miss Marple “I’d know it anywhere.”
This, I thought, was a slight exaggeration. There are thousands of cheap shiny suitcases all exactly alike. No onecould recognize one particular one seen from such a distance away by moonlight, but I realized that the wholebusiness of the suitcase was Miss Marple’s particular triumph and, as such, she was entitled to a little pardonableexaggeration.
“It’s locked, I suppose, Mr. Clement?”
“Yes. I’m just going to take it down to the police station.”
“You don’t think it would be better to telephone?”
Of course unquestionably it would be better to telephone. To stride through the village, suitcase in hand, would beto court a probably undesirable22 publicity23.
So I unlatched Miss Marple’s garden gate and entered the house by the French window, and from the sanctity ofthe drawing room with the door shut, I telephoned my news.
The result was that Inspector Slack announced he would be up himself in a couple of jiffies.
When he arrived it was in his most cantankerous24 mood.
“So we’ve got it, have we?” he said. “You know, sir, you shouldn’t keep things to yourself. If you’d any reason tobelieve you knew where the article in question was hidden, you ought to have reported it to the proper authorities.”
“It was a pure accident,” I said. “The idea just happened to occur to me.”
“And that’s a likely tale. Nearly three-quarters of a mile of woodland, and you go right to the proper spot and layyour hand upon it.”
I would have given Inspector Slack the steps in reasoning which led me to this particular spot, but he had achievedhis usual result of putting my back up. I said nothing.
“Well?” said Inspector Slack, eyeing the suitcase with dislike and would be indifference25, “I suppose we might aswell have a look at what’s inside.”
He had brought an assortment26 of keys and wire with him. The lock was a cheap affair. In a couple of seconds thecase was open.
I don’t know what we had expected to find—something sternly sensational27, I imagine. But the first thing that metour eyes was a greasy28 plaid scarf. The Inspector lifted it out. Next came a faded dark blue overcoat, very much theworse for wear. A checked cap followed.
“A shoddy lot,” said the Inspector.
A pair of boots very down at heel and battered29 came next. At the bottom of the suitcase was a parcel done up innewspaper.
“Fancy shirt, I suppose,” said the Inspector bitterly, as he tore it open.
A moment later he had caught his breath in surprise.
For inside the parcel were some demure30 little silver objects and a round platter of the same metal.
Miss Marple gave a shrill31 exclamation32 of recognition.
“The trencher salts,” she exclaimed. “Colonel Protheroe’s trencher salts, and the Charles II tazza. Did you everhear of such a thing!”
The Inspector had got very red.
“So that was the game,” he muttered. “Robbery. But I can’t make it out. There’s been no mention of these thingsbeing missing.”
“Perhaps they haven’t discovered the loss,” I suggested. “I presume these valuable things would not have been keptout in common use. Colonel Protheroe probably kept them locked away in a safe.”
“I must investigate this,” said the Inspector. “I’ll go right up to Old Hall now. So that’s why our Dr. Stone madehimself scarce. What with the murder and one thing and another, he was afraid we’d get wind of his activities. Aslikely as not his belongings33 might have been searched. He got the girl to hide them in the wood with a suitable changeof clothing. He meant to come back by a roundabout route and go off with them one night whilst she stayed here todisarm suspicion. Well, there’s one thing to the good. This lets him out over the murder. He’d nothing to do with that.
Quite a different game.”
He repacked the suitcase and took his departure, refusing Miss Marple’s offer of a glass of sherry.
“Well, that’s one mystery cleared up,” I said with a sigh. “What Slack says is quite true; there are no grounds forsuspecting him of the murder. Everything’s accounted for quite satisfactorily.”
“It really would seem so,” said Miss Marple. “Although one never can be quite certain, can one?”
“There’s a complete lack of motive34,” I pointed35 out. “He’d got what he came for and was clearing out.”
“Y—es.”
She was clearly not quite satisfied, and I looked at her in some curiosity. She hastened to answer my inquiring gazewith a kind of apologetic eagerness.
“I’ve no doubt I am quite wrong. I’m so stupid about these things. But I just wondered—I mean this silver is veryvaluable, is it not?”
“A tazza sold the other day for over a thousand pounds, I believe.”
“I mean—it’s not the value of the metal.”
“No, it’s what one might call a connoisseur’s value.”
“That’s what I mean. The sale of such things would take a little time to arrange, or even if it was arranged, itcouldn’t be carried through without secrecy36. I mean—if the robbery were reported and a hue37 and cry were raised, well,the things couldn’t be marketed at all.”
“I don’t quite see what you mean?” I said.
“I know I’m putting it badly.” She became more flustered38 and apologetic. “But it seems to me that—that the thingscouldn’t just have been abstracted, so to speak. The only satisfactory thing to do would be to replace these things withcopies. Then, perhaps, the robbery wouldn’t be discovered for some time.”
“That’s a very ingenious idea,” I said.
“It would be the only way to do it, wouldn’t it? And if so, of course, as you say, once the substitution had beenaccomplished there wouldn’t have been any reason for murdering Colonel Protheroe—quite the reverse.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what I said.”
“Yes, but I just wondered—I don’t know, of course—and Colonel Protheroe always talked a lot about doing thingsbefore he actually did do them, and, of course, sometimes never did them at all, but he did say—”
“Yes?”
“That he was going to have all his things valued—a man down from London. For probate—no, that’s when you’redead—for insurance. Someone told him that was the thing to do. He talked about it a great deal, and the importance ofhaving it done. Of course, I don’t know if he had made any actual arrangements, but if he had….”
“I see,” I said slowly.
“Of course, the moment the expert saw the silver, he’d know, and then Colonel Protheroe would remember havingshown the things to Dr. Stone—I wonder if it was done then—legerdemain, don’t they call it? So clever—and then,well, the fat would be in the fire, to use an old-fashioned expression.”
“I see your idea,” I said. “I think we ought to find out for certain.”
I went once more to the telephone. In a few minutes I was through to Old Hall and speaking to Anne Protheroe.
“No, it’s nothing very important. Has the Inspector arrived yet? Oh! Well, he’s on his way. Mrs. Protheroe, can youtell me if the contents of Old Hall were ever valued? What’s that you say?”
Her answer came clear and prompt. I thanked her, replaced the receiver, and turned to Miss Marple.
“That’s very definite. Colonel Protheroe had made arrangements for a man to come down from London on Monday—tomorrow—to make a full valuation. Owing to the Colonel’s death, the matter has been put off.”
“Then there was a motive,” said Miss Marple softly.
“A motive, yes. But that’s all. You forget. When the shot was fired, Dr. Stone had just joined the others, or wasclimbing over the stile in order to do so.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “So that rules him out.”
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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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prone
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generalizations
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| 一般化( generalization的名词复数 )； 普通化； 归纳； 概论 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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bent
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drawn
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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upheaval
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| n.胀起，(地壳)的隆起；剧变，动乱 | |
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denseness
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| 稠密，密集，浓厚； 稠度 | |
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densely
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| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
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retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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publicity
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cantankerous
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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battered
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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exclamation
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belongings
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motive
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pointed
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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