IC onway Jefferson stirred in his sleep and stretched. His arms were flung out, long, powerful arms into which all thestrength of his body seemed to be concentrated since his accident.
Through the curtains the morning light glowed softly.
Conway Jefferson smiled to himself. Always, after a night of rest, he woke like this, happy, refreshed, his deepvitality renewed. Another day!
So for a minute he lay. Then he pressed the special bell by his hand. And suddenly a wave of remembrance sweptover him.
Even as Edwards, deft1 and quiet-footed, entered the room, a groan2 was wrung3 from his master.
Edwards paused with his hand on the curtains. He said: “You’re not in pain, sir?”
Conway Jefferson said harshly:
“No. Go on, pull ’em.”
The clear light flooded the room. Edwards, understanding, did not glance at his master.
His face grim, Conway Jefferson lay remembering and thinking. Before his eyes he saw again the pretty, vapid4 faceof Ruby5. Only in his mind he did not use the adjective vapid. Last night he would have said innocent. A na?ve,innocent child! And now?
A great weariness came over Conway Jefferson. He closed his eyes. He murmured below his breath:
“Margaret….”
It was the name of his dead wife….
II
“I like your friend,” said Adelaide Jefferson to Mrs. Bantry.
The two women were sitting on the terrace.
“Jane Marple’s a very remarkable6 woman,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“She’s nice too,” said Addie, smiling.
“People call her a scandalmonger,” said Mrs. Bantry, “but she isn’t really.”
“Just a low opinion of human nature?”
“You could call it that.”
“It’s rather refreshing,” said Adelaide Jefferson, “after having had too much of the other thing.”
Mrs. Bantry looked at her sharply.
Addie explained herself.
“So much high-thinking—idealization of an unworthy object!”
“You mean Ruby Keene?”
Addie nodded.
“I don’t want to be horrid7 about her. There wasn’t any harm in her. Poor little rat, she had to fight for what shewanted. She wasn’t bad. Common and rather silly and quite good-natured, but a decided8 little gold-digger. I don’tthink she schemed or planned. It was just that she was quick to take advantage of a possibility. And she knew just howto appeal to an elderly man who was—lonely.”
“I suppose,” said Mrs. Bantry thoughtfully, “that Conway was lonely?”
Addie moved restlessly. She said:
“He was—this summer.” She paused and then burst out: “Mark will have it that it was all my fault. Perhaps it was,I don’t know.”
She was silent for a minute, then, impelled9 by some need to talk, she went on speaking in a difficult, almostreluctant way.
“I—I’ve had such an odd sort of life. Mike Carmody, my first husband, died so soon after we were married—it—itknocked me out. Peter, as you know, was born after his death. Frank Jefferson was Mike’s great friend. So I came tosee a lot of him. He was Peter’s godfather—Mike had wanted that. I got very fond of him—and—oh! sorry for himtoo.”
“Sorry?” queried10 Mrs. Bantry with interest.
“Yes, just that. It sounds odd. Frank had always had everything he wanted. His father and his mother couldn’t havebeen nicer to him. And yet—how can I say it?—you see, old Mr. Jefferson’s personality is so strong. If you live withit, you can’t somehow have a personality of your own. Frank felt that.
“When we were married he was very happy—wonderfully so. Mr. Jefferson was very generous. He settled a largesum of money on Frank—said he wanted his children to be independent and not have to wait for his death. It was sonice of him—so generous. But it was much too sudden. He ought really to have accustomed Frank to independencelittle by little.
“It went to Frank’s head. He wanted to be as good a man as his father, as clever about money and business, as far-seeing and successful. And, of course, he wasn’t. He didn’t exactly speculate with the money, but he invested in thewrong things at the wrong time. It’s frightening, you know, how soon money goes if you’re not clever about it. Themore Frank dropped, the more eager he was to get it back by some clever deal. So things went from bad to worse.”
“But, my dear,” said Mrs. Bantry, “couldn’t Conway have advised him?”
“He didn’t want to be advised. The one thing he wanted was to do well on his own. That’s why we never let Mr.
Jefferson know. When Frank died there was very little left—only a tiny income for me. And I—I didn’t let his fatherknow either. You see—”
She turned abruptly11.
“It would have felt like betraying Frank to him. Frank would have hated it so. Mr. Jefferson was ill for a long time.
When he got well he assumed that I was a very-well-off widow. I’ve never undeceived him. It’s been a point ofhonour. He knows I’m very careful about money—but he approves of that, thinks I’m a thrifty12 sort of woman. And, ofcourse, Peter and I have lived with him practically ever since, and he’s paid for all our living expenses. So I’ve neverhad to worry.”
She said slowly:
“We’ve been like a family all these years—only—only—you see (or don’t you see?) I’ve never been Frank’swidow to him—I’ve been Frank’s wife.”
Mrs. Bantry grasped the implication.
“You mean he’s never accepted their deaths?”
“No. He’s been wonderful. But he’s conquered his own terrible tragedy by refusing to recognize death. Mark isRosamund’s husband and I’m Frank’s wife—and though Frank and Rosamund aren’t exactly here with us—they arestill existent.”
Mrs. Bantry said softly:
“It’s a wonderful triumph of faith.”
“I know. We’ve gone on, year after year. But suddenly—this summer—something went wrong in me. I felt—I feltrebellious. It’s an awful thing to say, but I didn’t want to think of Frank anymore! All that was over—my love andcompanionship with him, and my grief when he died. It was something that had been and wasn’t any longer.
“It’s awfully13 hard to describe. It’s like wanting to wipe the slate14 clean and start again. I wanted to be me—Addie,still reasonably young and strong and able to play games and swim and dance—just a person. Even Hugo—(you knowHugo McLean?) he’s a dear and wants to marry me, but, of course, I’ve never really thought of it—but this summer Idid begin to think of it—not seriously—only vaguely….”
She stopped and shook her head.
“And so I suppose it’s true. I neglected Jeff. I don’t mean really neglected him, but my mind and thoughts weren’twith him. When Ruby, as I saw, amused him, I was rather glad. It left me freer to go and do my own things. I neverdreamed—of course I never dreamed—that he would be so—so—infatuated by her!”
Mrs. Bantry asked:
“And when you did find out?”
“I was dumbfounded—absolutely dumbfounded! And, I’m afraid, angry too.”
“I’d have been angry,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“There was Peter, you see. Peter’s whole future depends on Jeff. Jeff practically looked on him as a grandson, or soI thought, but, of course, he wasn’t a grandson. He was no relation at all. And to think that he was going to be—disinherited!” Her firm, well-shaped hands shook a little where they lay in her lap. “For that’s what it felt like—andfor a vulgar, gold-digging little simpleton—Oh! I could have killed her!”
She stopped, stricken. Her beautiful hazel eyes met Mrs. Bantry’s in a pleading horror. She said:
“What an awful thing to say!”
Hugo McLean, coming quietly up behind them, asked:
“What’s an awful thing to say?”
“Sit down, Hugo. You know Mrs. Bantry, don’t you?”
McLean had already greeted the older lady. He said now in a low, persevering15 way:
“What was an awful thing to say?”
Addie Jefferson said:
“That I’d like to have killed Ruby Keene.”
Hugo McLean reflected a minute or two. Then he said:
“No, I wouldn’t say that if I were you. Might be misunderstood.”
His eyes—steady, reflective, grey eyes—looked at her meaningly.
He said:
“You’ve got to watch your step, Addie.”
There was a warning in his voice.
III
When Miss Marple came out of the hotel and joined Mrs. Bantry a few minutes later, Hugo McLean and AdelaideJefferson were walking down the path to the sea together.
Seating herself, Miss Marple remarked:
“He seems very devoted16.”
“He’s been devoted for years! One of those men.”
“I know. Like Major Bury. He hung round an Anglo-Indian widow for quite ten years. A joke among her friends!
In the end she gave in—but unfortunately ten days before they were to have been married she ran away with thechauffeur! Such a nice woman, too, and usually so well balanced.”
“People do do very odd things,” agreed Mrs. Bantry. “I wish you’d been here just now, Jane. Addie Jefferson wastelling me all about herself—how her husband went through all his money but they never let Mr. Jefferson know. Andthen, this summer, things felt different to her—”
Miss Marple nodded.
“Yes. She rebelled, I suppose, against being made to live in the past? After all, there’s a time for everything. Youcan’t sit in the house with the blinds down forever. I suppose Mrs. Jefferson just pulled them up and took off herwidow’s weeds, and her father-in-law, of course, didn’t like it. Felt left out in the cold, though I don’t suppose for aminute he realized who put her up to it. Still, he certainly wouldn’t like it. And so, of course, like old Mr. Badgerwhen his wife took up Spiritualism, he was just ripe for what happened. Any fairly nice-looking young girl wholistened prettily17 would have done.”
“Do you think,” said Mrs. Bantry, “that that cousin, Josie, got her down here deliberately—that it was a familyplot?”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“No, I don’t think so at all. I don’t think Josie has the kind of mind that could foresee people’s reactions. She’srather dense18 in that way. She’s got one of those shrewd, limited, practical minds that never do foresee the future andare usually astonished by it.”
“It seems to have taken everyone by surprise,” said Mrs. Bantry. “Addie—and Mark Gaskell too, apparently19.”
Miss Marple smiled.
“I dare say he had his own fish to fry. A bold fellow with a roving eye! Not the man to go on being a sorrowingwidower for years, no matter how fond he may have been of his wife. I should think they were both restless under oldMr. Jefferson’s yoke20 of perpetual remembrance.
“Only,” added Miss Marple cynically21, “it’s easier for gentlemen, of course.”
IV
At that very moment Mark was confirming this judgment22 on himself in a talk with Sir Henry Clithering.
With characteristic candour Mark had gone straight to the heart of things.
“It’s just dawned on me,” he said, “that I’m Favourite Suspect No. I to the police! They’ve been delving23 into myfinancial troubles. I’m broke, you know, or very nearly. If dear old Jeff dies according to schedule in a month or two,and Addie and I divide the dibs also according to schedule, all will be well. Matter of fact, I owe rather a lot … If thecrash comes it will be a big one! If I can stave it off, it will be the other way round—I shall come out on top and be avery rich man.”
Sir Henry Clithering said:
“You’re a gambler, Mark.”
“Always have been. Risk everything—that’s my motto! Yes, it’s a lucky thing for me that somebody strangled thatpoor kid. I didn’t do it. I’m not a strangler. I don’t really think I could ever murder anybody. I’m too easygoing. But Idon’t suppose I can ask the police to believe that! I must look to them like the answer to the criminal investigator’sprayer! I had a motive24, was on the spot, I am not burdened with high moral scruples25! I can’t imagine why I’m not inthe jug26 already! That Superintendent’s got a very nasty eye.”
“You’ve got that useful thing, an alibi27.”
“An alibi is the fishiest thing on God’s earth! No innocent person ever has an alibi! Besides, it all depends on thetime of death, or something like that, and you may be sure if three doctors say the girl was killed at midnight, at leastsix will be found who will swear positively28 that she was killed at five in the morning—and where’s my alibi then?”
“At any rate, you are able to joke about it.”
“Damned bad taste, isn’t it?” said Mark cheerfully. “Actually, I’m rather scared. One is—with murder! And don’tthink I’m not sorry for old Jeff. I am. But it’s better this way—bad as the shock was—than if he’d found her out.”
“What do you mean, found her out?”
Mark winked29.
“Where did she go off to last night? I’ll lay you any odds30 you like she went to meet a man. Jeff wouldn’t have likedthat. He wouldn’t have liked it at all. If he’d found she was deceiving him—that she wasn’t the prattling31 little innocentshe seemed—well—my father-in-law is an odd man. He’s a man of great self-control, but that self-control can snap.
And then—look out!”
Sir Henry glanced at him curiously32.
“Are you fond of him or not?”
“I’m very fond of him—and at the same time I resent him. I’ll try and explain. Conway Jefferson is a man wholikes to control his surroundings. He’s a benevolent33 despot, kind, generous, and affectionate—but his is the tune34, andthe others dance to his piping.”
Mark Gaskell paused.
“I loved my wife. I shall never feel the same for anyone else. Rosamund was sunshine and laughter and flowers,and when she was killed I felt just like a man in the ring who’s had a knock-out blow. But the referee’s been countinga good long time now. I’m a man, after all. I like women. I don’t want to marry again—not in the least. Well, that’s allright. I’ve had to be discreet—but I’ve had my good times all right. Poor Addie hasn’t. Addie’s a really nice woman.
She’s the kind of woman men want to marry, not to sleep with. Give her half a chance and she would marry again—and be very happy and make the chap happy too. But old Jeff saw her always as Frank’s wife—and hypnotized herinto seeing herself like that. He doesn’t know it, but we’ve been in prison. I broke out, on the quiet, a long time ago.
Addie broke out this summer—and it gave him a shock. It split up his world. Result—Ruby Keene.”
Irrepressibly he sang:
“But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!
“Come and have a drink, Clithering.”
It was hardly surprising, Sir Henry reflected, that Mark Gaskell should be an object of suspicion to the police.
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收听单词发音
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1
deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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5
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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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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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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8
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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13
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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14
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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persevering
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| a.坚忍不拔的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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18
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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yoke
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| n.轭；支配；v.给...上轭，连接，使成配偶 | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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delving
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| v.深入探究，钻研( delve的现在分词 ) | |
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motive
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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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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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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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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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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