I hurried down the village street. It was eleven o’clock, and at eleven o’clock on a Sunday night the whole village ofSt. Mary Mead1 might be dead. I saw, however, a light in a first floor window as I passed, and, realizing that Haweswas still up, I stopped and rang the doorbell.
After what seemed a long time, Hawes’s landlady2, Mrs. Sadler, laboriously3 unfastened two bolts, a chain, andturned a key and peered out at me suspiciously.
“Why, it’s Vicar!” she exclaimed.
“Good evening,” I said. “I want to see Mr. Hawes. I see there’s a light in the window, so he’s up still.”
“That may be. I’ve not seen him since I took up his supper. He’s had a quiet evening—no one to see him, and he’snot been out.”
I nodded, and passing her, went quickly up the stairs. Hawes has a bedroom and sitting room on the first floor.
I passed into the latter. Hawes was lying back in a long chair asleep. My entrance did not wake him. An emptycachet box and a glass of water, half full, stood beside him.
On the floor, by his left foot, was a crumpled4 sheet of paper with writing on it. I picked it up and straightened it out.
It began: “My dear Clement—”
I read it through, uttered an exclamation5 and shoved it into my pocket. Then I bent6 over Hawes and studied himattentively.
Next, reaching for the telephone which stood by his elbow, I gave the number of the Vicarage. Melchett must havebeen still trying to trace the call, for I was told that the number was engaged. Asking them to call me, I put theinstrument down again.
I put my hand into my pocket to look at the paper I had picked up once more. With it, I drew out the note that I hadfound in the letter box and which was still unopened.
Its appearance was horribly familiar. It was the same handwriting as the anonymous7 letter that had come thatafternoon.
I tore it open.
I read it once—twice—unable to realize its contents.
I was beginning to read it a third time when the telephone rang. Like a man in a dream I picked up the receiver andspoke.
“Hallo?”
“Hallo.”
“Is that you, Melchett?”
“Yes, where are you? I’ve traced that call. The number is—”
“I know the number.”
“Oh, good! Is that where you are speaking from?”
“Yes.”
“What about that confession8?”
“I’ve got the confession all right.”
“You mean you’ve got the murderer?”
I had then the strongest temptation of my life. I looked at the anonymous scrawl9. I looked at the empty cachet boxwith the name of Cherubim on it. I remembered a certain casual conversation.
I made an immense effort.
“I—don’t know,” I said. “You’d better come round.”
And I gave him the address.
Then I sat down in the chair opposite Hawes to think.
I had two clear minutes to do so.
In two minutes’ time, Melchett would have arrived.
I took up the anonymous letter and read it through again for the third time.
Then I closed my eyes and thought….
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1
mead
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n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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2
landlady
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n.女房东,女地主 | |
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3
laboriously
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adv.艰苦地;费力地;辛勤地;(文体等)佶屈聱牙地 | |
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4
crumpled
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adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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5
exclamation
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n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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6
bent
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n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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7
anonymous
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adj.无名的;匿名的;无特色的 | |
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8
confession
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n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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9
scrawl
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vt.潦草地书写;n.潦草的笔记,涂写 | |
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