1G ently eluding1 her hostess the next morning, Miss Marple went out into the gardens. Their condition distressed2 her.
They had once been an ambitiously set-out achievement. Clumps3 of rhododendrons, smooth slopes of lawn, massedborders of herbaceous plants, clipped box-hedges surrounding a formal rose garden. Now all was largely derelict, thelawns raggedly4 mown, the borders full of weeds with tangled5 flowers struggling through them, the paths moss-coveredand neglected. The kitchen gardens on the other hand, enclosed by red brick walls, were prosperous and well stocked.
That, presumably, was because they had a utility value. So, also, a large portion of what had once been lawn andflower garden, was now fenced off and laid out in tennis courts and a bowling6 green.
Surveying the herbaceous border, Miss Marple clicked her tongue vexedly and pulled up a flourishing plant ofgroundsel.
As she stood with it in her hand, Edgar Lawson came into view. Seeing Miss Marple, he stopped and hesitated.
Miss Marple had no mind to let him escape. She called him briskly. When he came she asked him if he knew whereany gardening tools were kept.
Edgar said vaguely7 that there was a gardener somewhere who would know.
“It’s such a pity to see this border so neglected,” twittered Miss Marple. “I’m so fond of gardens.” And since it wasnot her intention that Edgar should go in search of any necessary implement8 she went on quickly:
“It’s about all an old and useless woman can find to do. Now I don’t suppose you ever bother your head aboutgardens, Mr. Lawson. You have so much real and important work to do. Being in a responsible position here, with Mr.
Serrocold. You must find it all most interesting.”
He answered quickly, almost eagerly:
“Yes—yes—it is interesting.”
“And you must be of the greatest assistance to Mr. Serrocold.”
His face darkened.
“I don’t know. I can’t be sure. It’s what’s behind it all—”
He broke off. Miss Marple watched him thoughtfully. A pathetic undersized young man, in a neat dark suit. Ayoung man that few people would look at twice, or remember if they did look….
There was a garden seat nearby and Miss Marple drifted towards it and sat. Edgar stood frowning in front of her.
“I’m sure,” said Miss Marple brightly, “that Mr. Serrocold relies on you a great deal.”
“I don’t know,” said Edgar. “I really don’t know.” He frowned and almost absently sat down beside her. “I’m in avery difficult position.”
“Yes?” said Miss Marple.
The young man Edgar sat staring in front of him.
“This is all highly confidential,” he said suddenly.
“Of course,” said Miss Marple.
“If I had my rights—”
“Yes?”
“I might as well tell you … you won’t let it go any further I’m sure?”
“Oh no.” She noticed he did not wait for her disclaimer.
“My father—actually, my father is a very important man.”
This time there was no need to say anything. She had only to listen.
“Nobody knows except Mr. Serrocold. You see, it might prejudice my father’s position if the story got out.” Heturned to her. He smiled. A sad, dignified9 smile. “You see, I’m Winston Churchill’s son.”
“Oh,” said Miss Marple. “I see.”
And she did see. She remembered a rather sad story in St. Mary Mead—and the way it had gone.
Edgar Lawson went on, and what he said had the familiarity of a stage scene.
“There were reasons. My mother wasn’t free. Her own husband was in an asylum—there could be no divorce—noquestion of marriage. I don’t really blame them. At least, I think I don’t … He’s done, always, everything he could.
Discreetly10, of course. And that’s where the trouble has arisen. He’s got enemies—and they’re against me, too. They’vemanaged to keep us apart. They watch me. Wherever I go, they spy on me. And they make things go wrong for me.”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“Dear, dear,” she said.
“In London I was studying to be a doctor. They tampered11 with my exams—they altered the answers. They wantedme to fail. They followed me about the streets. They told things about me to my landlady12. They hound me wherever Igo.”
“Oh, but you can’t be sure of that,” said Miss Marple soothingly13.
“I tell you I know! Oh they’re very cunning. I never get a glimpse of them or find out who they are. But I shall findout … Mr. Serrocold took me away from London and brought me down here. He was kind—very kind. But even here,you know, I’m not safe. They’re here, too. Working against me. Making the others dislike me. Mr. Serrocold says thatisn’t true—but Mr. Serrocold doesn’t know. Or else—I wonder—sometimes I’ve thought—”
He broke off. He got up.
“This is all confidential,” he said. “You do understand that, don’t you? But if you notice anyone following me—spying, I mean—you might let me know who it is!”
He went away, then—neat, pathetic, insignificant14. Miss Marple watched him and wondered….
A voice spoke15.
“Nuts,” it said. “Just nuts.”
Walter Hudd was standing16 beside her. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and he was frowning as he staredafter Edgar’s retreating figure.
“What kind of a joint17 is this, anyway?” he said. “They’re all bughouse, the whole lot of them.”
Miss Marple said nothing and Walter went on.
“That Edgar guy—what do you make of him? Says his father’s really Lord Montgomery. Doesn’t seem likely tome! Not Monty! Not from all I’ve heard about him.”
“No,” said Miss Marple. “It doesn’t seem very likely.”
“He told Gina something quite different—some bunk18 about being really the heir to the Russian throne—said hewas some Grand Duke’s son or other. Hell, doesn’t the chap know who his father really was?”
“I should imagine not,” said Miss Marple. “That is probably just the trouble.”
Walter sat down beside her, dropping his body onto the seat with a slack movement. He repeated his formerstatement.
“They’re all bughouse here.”
“You don’t like being at Stonygates?”
The young man frowned.
“I simply don’t get it—that’s all! I don’t get it. Take this place—the house—the whole setup. They’re rich, thesepeople. They don’t need dough19—they’ve got it. And look at the way they live. Cracked antique china and cheap plainstuff all mixed up. No proper upper class servants—just some casual hired help. Tapestries20 and drapes and chaircoversall satin and brocade and stuff—and it’s falling to pieces! Big silver tea urns21 and what do you know—all yellow andtarnished for want of cleaning. Mrs. Serrocold just doesn’t care. Look at that dress she had on last night. Darned underthe arms, nearly worn out—and yet she could go to a store and order what she liked. Bond Street or whatever it is.
Dough? They’re rolling in dough.”
He paused and sat, deliberating.
“I understand being poor. There’s nothing much wrong with it. If you’re young and strong and ready to work. Inever had much money, but I was all set to get where I wanted. I was going to open a garage. I’d got a bit of moneyput by. I talked to Gina about it. She listened. She seemed to understand. I didn’t know much about her. All those girlsin uniform, they look about the same. I mean you can’t tell from looking at them who’s got dough and who hasn’t. Ithought she was a cut above me, perhaps, education and all that. But it didn’t seem to matter. We fell for each other.
We got married. I’d got my bit put by and Gina had some too, she told me. We were going to set up a gas station backhome—Gina was willing. Just a couple of crazy kids we were—mad about each other. Then that snooty aunt of Gina’sstarted making trouble … And Gina wanted to come here to England to see her grandmother. Well, that seemed fairenough. It was her home, and I was curious to see England anyway. I’d heard a lot about it. So we came. Just a visit—that’s what I thought.”
The frown became a scowl22.
“But it hasn’t turned out like that. We’re caught up in this crazy business. Why don’t we stay here—make ourhome here—that’s what they say. Plenty of jobs for me. Jobs! I don’t want a job feeding candy to gangster23 kids andhelping them play at kids’ games … what’s the sense of it all? This place could be swell24—really swell—don’t peoplewho’ve got money understand their luck? Don’t they understand that most of the world can’t have a swell place likethis and that they’ve got one? Isn’t it plain crazy to kick your luck when you’ve got it? I don’t mind working if I’vegot to. But I’ll work the way I like and at what I like—and I’ll work to get somewhere. This place makes me feel I’mtangled up in a spider’s web. And Gina—I can’t make Gina out. She’s not the same girl I married over in the States. Ican’t—dang it all—I can’t even talk to her now. Oh hell!”
Miss Marple said gently:
“I quite see your point of view.”
Wally shot a swift glance at her.
“You’re the only one I’ve shot my mouth off to so far. Most of the time I shut up like a clam25. Don’t know what it isabout you—you’re English right enough, really English—but in the durndest way you remind me of my aunt Betsyback home.”
“Now that’s very nice.”
“A lot of sense she had,” Wally continued reflectively. “Looked as frail26 as though you could snap her in two, butactually she was tough—yes, sir, I’ll say she was tough.”
He got up.
“Sorry talking to you this way,” he apologised. For the first time, Miss Marple saw him smile. It was a veryattractive smile and Wally Hudd was suddenly transfigured from an awkward sulky boy into a handsome andappealing young man. “Had to get things off my chest, I suppose. But too bad picking on you.”
“Not at all, my dear boy,” said Miss Marple. “I have a nephew of my own—only, of course, a great deal older thanyou are.”
Her mind dwelt for a moment on the sophisticated modern writer Raymond West. A greater contrast to WalterHudd could not have been imagined.
“You’ve got other company coming,” said Walter Hudd. “That dame27 doesn’t like me. So I’ll quit. So long, ma’am.
Thanks for the talk.”
He strode away and Miss Marple watched Mildred Strete coming across the lawn to join her.
2“I see you’ve been victimised by that terrible young man,” said Mrs. Strete, rather breathlessly, as she sank down onthe seat. “What a tragedy that is.”
“A tragedy?”
“Gina’s marriage. It all came about from sending her off to America. I told Mother at the time it was most unwise.
After all, this is quite a quiet district. We had hardly any raids here. I do so dislike the way many people gave way topanic about their families—and themselves, too, very often.”
“It must have been difficult to decide what was right to do,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “Where children wereconcerned, I mean. With the prospect28 of possible invasion, it might have meant their being brought up under a Germanregime—as well as the danger of bombs.”
“All nonsense,” said Mrs. Strete. “I never had the least doubt that we should win. But Mother has always beenquite unreasonable29 where Gina is concerned. The child was always spoilt and indulged in every way. There wasabsolutely no need to take her away from Italy in the first place.”
“Her father raised no objection, I understand?”
“Oh San Severiano! You know what Italians are. Nothing matters to them but money. He married Pippa for hermoney, of course.”
“Dear me. I always understood he was very devoted30 to her and was quite inconsolable at her death.”
“He pretended to be, no doubt. Why Mother ever countenanced31 her marrying a foreigner, I can’t imagine. Just theusual American pleasure in a title, I suppose.”
Miss Marple said mildly:
“I have always thought that dear Carrie Louise was almost too unworldly in her attitude to life.”
“Oh I know. I’ve no patience with it. Mother’s fads32 and whims33 and idealistic projects. You’ve no idea, Aunt Jane,of all that it has meant. I can speak with knowledge, of course. I was brought up in the middle of it all.”
It was with a very faint shock that Miss Marple heard herself addressed as Aunt Jane. And yet that had been theconvention of those times. Her Christmas presents to Carrie Louise’s children were always labelled “With love fromAunt Jane” and as “Aunt Jane” they thought of her, when they thought of her at all. Which was not, Miss Marplesupposed, very often.
She looked thoughtfully at the middle-aged34 woman sitting beside her. At the pursed tight mouth, the deep linesfrom the nose down, the hands tightly pressed together.
She said gently:
“You must have had—a difficult childhood.”
Mildred Strete turned eager grateful eyes to her.
“Oh I’m so glad that somebody appreciates that. People don’t really know what children go through. Pippa, yousee, was the pretty one. She was older than I was, too. It was always she who got all the attention. Both Father andMother encouraged her to push herself forward—not that she needed any encouragement—to show off. I was alwaysthe quiet one. I was shy—Pippa didn’t know what shyness was. A child can suffer a great deal, Aunt Jane.”
“I know that,” said Miss Marple.
“‘Mildred’s so stupid’—that’s what Pippa used to say. But I was younger than she was. Naturally I couldn’t beexpected to keep up with her in lessons. And it’s very unfair on a child when her sister is always put in front of her.
“‘What a lovely little girl,’ people used to say to Mamma. They never noticed me. And it was Pippa that Papa usedto joke and play with. Someone ought to have seen how hard it was on me. All the notice and attention going to her. Iwasn’t old enough to realise that it’s character that matters.”
Her lips trembled, then hardened again.
“And it was unfair—really unfair—I was their own child. Pippa was only adopted. I was the daughter of the house.
She was—nobody.”
“Probably they were extra indulgent to her on that account,” said Miss Marple.
“They liked her best,” said Mildred Strete. And added: “A child whose own parents didn’t want her—or moreprobably illegitimate.”
She went on:
“It’s come out in Gina. There’s bad blood there. Blood will tell. Lewis can have what theories he likes aboutenvironment. Bad blood does tell. Look at Gina.”
“Gina is a very lovely girl,” said Miss Marple.
“Hardly in behaviour,” said Mrs. Strete. “Everyone but Mother notices how she is carrying on with StephenRestarick. Quite disgusting, I call it. Admittedly she made a very unfortunate marriage, but marriage is marriage andone should be prepared to abide35 by it. After all, she chose to marry that dreadful young man.”
“Is he so dreadful?”
“Oh dear, Aunt Jane! He really looks to me quite like a gangster. And so surly and rude. He hardly opens hismouth. And he always looks so dirty and uncouth36.”
“He is unhappy, I think,” said Miss Marple mildly.
“I really don’t know why he should be—apart from Gina’s behaviour, I mean. Everything has been done for himhere. Lewis has suggested several ways in which he could try to make himself useful—but he prefers to skulk37 aboutdoing nothing.” She burst out, “Oh this whole place is impossible—quite impossible. Lewis thinks of nothing butthese horrible young criminals. And Mother thinks of nothing but him. Everything Lewis does is right. Look at thestate of the garden—the weeds—the overgrowth. And the house—nothing properly done. Oh, I know a domestic staffis difficult nowadays, but it can be got. It’s not as though there were any shortage of money. It’s just that nobodycares. If it were my house—” She stopped.
“I’m afraid,” said Miss Marple, “that we have all to face the fact that conditions are different. These largeestablishments are a great problem. It must be sad for you, in a way, to come back here and find everything sodifferent. Do you really prefer living here to—well—somewhere of your own?”
Mildred Strete flushed.
“After all, it’s my home,” she said. “It was my father’s house. Nothing can alter that. I’ve a right to be here if Ichoose. And I do choose. If only Mother were not so impossible! She won’t even buy herself proper clothes. It worriesJolly a lot.”
“I was going to ask you about Miss Bellever.”
“Such a comfort having her here. She adores Mother. She’s been with her a long time now—she came in JohnRestarick’s time. And was wonderful, I believe, during the whole sad business. I expect you heard that he ran awaywith a dreadful Yugoslavian woman—a most abandoned creature. She’s had any amount of lovers, I believe. Motherwas very fine and dignified about it all. Divorced him as quietly as possible. Even went so far as to have the Restarickboys for their holidays—quite unnecessary, really, other arrangements could have been made. It would have beenunthinkable, of course, to have let them go to their father and that woman. Anyway, Mother had them here … AndMiss Bellever stood by all through things and was a tower of strength. I sometimes think she makes Mother even morevague than she need be, by doing all the practical things herself. But I really don’t know what Mother would dowithout her.”
She paused and then remarked in a tone of surprise:
“Here is Lewis. How odd. He seldom comes out in the garden.”
Mr. Serrocold came towards them in the same single-minded way that he did everything. He appeared not to noticeMildred, because it was only Miss Marple who was in his mind.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wanted to take you round our institution and show you everything. Caroline asked me to.
Unfortunately I have to go off to Liverpool. The case of that boy and the railways parcels office. But Maverick38 willtake you. He’ll be here in a few minutes. I shan’t be back until the day after tomorrow. It will be splendid if we can getthem not to prosecute39.”
Mildred Strete got up and walked away. Lewis Serrocold did not notice her go. His earnest eyes gazed at MissMarple through thick glasses.
“You see,” he said, “the Magistrates40 nearly always take the wrong view. Sometimes they’re too severe, butsometimes they’re too lenient41. If these boys get a sentence of a few months it’s no deterrent—they get a kind of a kickout of it, even. Boast about it to their girlfriends. But a severe sentence often sobers them. They realise that the gameisn’t worth it. Or else it’s better not to serve a prison sentence at all. Corrective training—constructional training likewe have here.”
Miss Marple burst firmly into speech.
“Mr. Serrocold,” she said. “Are you quite satisfied about young Mr. Lawson? Is he—is he quite normal?”
A disturbed expression appeared on Lewis Serrocold’s face.
“I do hope he’s not relapsing. What has he been saying?”
“He told me that he was Winston Churchill’s son—”
“Of course—of course. The usual statements. He’s illegitimate, as you’ve probably guessed, poor lad, and of veryhumble beginnings. He was a case recommended to me by a society in London. He’d assaulted a man in the street whohe said was spying on him. All very typical—Dr. Maverick will tell you. I went into his case history. Mother was of apoor class but a respectable family in Plymouth. Father a sailor—she didn’t even know his name … child brought upin difficult circumstances. Started romancing about his father and later about himself. Wore uniform and decorationshe wasn’t entitled to—all quite typical. But Maverick considers the prognosis hopeful. If we can give him confidencein himself. I’ve given him responsibility here, tried to make him appreciate that it’s not a man’s birth that matters, butwhat he is. I’ve tried to give him confidence in his own ability. The improvement was marked. I was very happy abouthim. And now you say—”
He shook his head.
“Mightn’t he be dangerous, Mr. Serrocold?”
“Dangerous? I don’t think he has shown any suicidal tendencies.”
“I wasn’t thinking of suicide. He talked to me of enemies—of persecution42. Isn’t that, forgive me—a dangeroussign?”
“I don’t really think it has reached such a pitch. But I’ll speak to Maverick. So far, he has been hopeful—veryhopeful.”
He looked at his watch.
“I must go. Ah, here is our dear Jolly. She will take charge of you.”
Miss Bellever, arriving briskly, said, “The car is at the door, Mr. Serrocold. Dr. Maverick rang through from theInstitute. I said I would bring Miss Marple over. He will meet us at the gates.”
“Thank you. I must go. My briefcase43?”
“In the car, Mr. Serrocold.”
Lewis Serrocold hurried away. Looking after him, Miss Bellever said:
“Someday that man will drop down dead in his tracks. It’s against human nature never to relax or rest. He onlysleeps four hours a night.”
“He is very devoted to this cause,” said Miss Marple.
“Never thinks of anything else,” said Miss Bellever grimly. “Never dreams of looking after his wife or consideringher in any way. She’s a sweet creature, as you know, Miss Marple, and she ought to have love and attention. Butnothing’s thought of or considered here except a lot of whining44 boys and young men who want to live easily anddishonestly and don’t care about the idea of doing a little hard work. What about the decent boys from decent homes?
Why isn’t something done for them? Honesty just isn’t interesting to cranks like Mr. Serrocold and Dr. Maverick andall the bunch of half-baked sentimentalists we’ve got here. I and my brothers were brought up the hard way, MissMarple, and we weren’t encouraged to whine45. Soft, that’s what the world is nowadays!”
They had crossed the garden and passed through a palisaded gate and had come to the entrance gate which EricGulbrandsen had erected46 as an entrance to his College, a sturdily built, hideous47, red brick building.
Dr. Maverick, looking, Miss Marple decided48, distinctly abnormal himself, came out to meet them.
“Thank you, Miss Bellever,” he said. “Now, Miss—er—oh yes, Miss Marple—I’m sure you’re going to beinterested in what we’re doing here. In our splendid approach to this great problem. Mr. Serrocold is a man of greatinsight—great vision. And we’ve got Sir John Stillwell behind us—my old chief. He was at the Home Office until heretired, and his influence turned the scales in getting this started. It’s a medical problem—that’s what we’ve got to getthe legal authorities to understand. Psychiatry49 came into its own in the war. The one positive good that did come out ofit—Now first of all I want you to see our initial approach to the problem. Look up—”
Miss Marple looked up at the words carved over the large arched doorway50.
RECOVER HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE
“Isn’t that splendid? Isn’t that just the right note to strike? You don’t want to scold these lads—or punish them. That’swhat they’re hankering after half the time, punishment. We want to make them feel what fine fellows they are.”
“Like Edgar Lawson?” said Miss Marple.
“Interesting case, that. Have you been talking to him?”
“He has been talking to me,” said Miss Marple. She added apologetically, “I wondered if, perhaps, he isn’t a littlemad?”
Dr. Maverick laughed cheerfully.
“We’re all mad, dear lady,” he said as he ushered51 her in through the door. “That’s the secret of existence. We’re alla little mad.”
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eluding
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的现在分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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raggedly
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| 破烂地，粗糙地 | |
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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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bowling
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vaguely
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implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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dignified
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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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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standing
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joint
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bunk
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dough
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tapestries
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scowl
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gangster
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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clam
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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prospect
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unreasonable
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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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countenanced
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| v.支持，赞同，批准( countenance的过去式 ) | |
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fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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skulk
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| v.藏匿；潜行 | |
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maverick
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| adj.特立独行的；不遵守传统的；n.持异议者，自行其是者 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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briefcase
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| n.手提箱，公事皮包 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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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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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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psychiatry
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| n.精神病学，精神病疗法 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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