1M rs. Strete fitted into the library very much better than Gina Hudd had done. There was nothing exotic about Mrs.
Strete. She wore black with onyx beads1, and she wore a hairnet over carefully arranged grey hair.
She looked, Inspector2 Curry3 reflected, exactly as the relict of a canon of the Established Church should look—which was almost odd, because so few people ever did look like what they really were.
Even the tight line of her lips had an ascetic4 ecclesiastical flavour. She expressed Christian5 Endurance, and possiblyChristian Fortitude6. But not, Curry thought, Christian Charity.
Moreover it was clear that Mrs. Strete was offended.
“I should have thought that you could have given me some idea of when you would want me, Inspector. I havebeen forced to sit around waiting all the morning.”
It was, Curry judged, her sense of importance that was hurt. He hastened to pour oil on the troubled waters.
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Strete. Perhaps you don’t quite know how we set about these things. We start, you know,with the less important evidence—get it out of the way, so to speak. It’s valuable to keep to the last a person on whosejudgement we can rely—a good observer—by whom we can check what has been told us up to date.”
Mrs. Strete softened7 visibly.
“Oh, I see. I hadn’t quite realised….”
“Now you’re a woman of mature judgement, Mrs. Strete. A woman of the world. And then this is your home—you’re the daughter of the house, and you can tell me all about the people who are in it.”
“I can certainly do that,” said Mildred Strete.
“So you see that when we come to the question of who killed Christian Gulbrandsen, you can help us a great deal.”
“But is there any question? Isn’t it perfectly8 obvious who killed my brother?”
Inspector Curry leant back in his chair. His hand stroked his small neat moustache.
“Well—we have to be careful,” he said. “You think it’s obvious?”
“Of course. That dreadful American husband of poor Gina’s. He’s the only stranger here. We know absolutelynothing about him. He’s probably one of these dreadful American gangsters9.”
“But that wouldn’t quite account for his killing10 Christian Gulbrandsen, would it? Why should he?”
“Because Christian had found out something about him. That’s what he came here for so soon after his last visit.”
“Are you sure of that, Mrs. Strete?”
“Again it seems to me quite obvious. He let it be thought his visit was in connection with the Trust—but that’snonsense. He was here for that only a month ago. And nothing of importance has arisen since. So he must have comeon some private business. He saw Walter on his last visit, and he may have recognised him—or perhaps madeinquiries about him in the States—naturally he has agents all over the world—and found out something reallydamaging. Gina is a very silly girl. She always has been. It is just like her to marry a man she knows nothing about—she’s always been man mad! A man wanted by the police, perhaps, or a man who’s already married, or some badcharacter in the underworld. But my brother Christian wasn’t an easy man to deceive. He came here, I’m sure, to settlethe whole business. Expose Walter and show him up for what he is. And so, naturally, Walter shot him.”
Inspector Curry, adding some out-sized whiskers to one of the cats on his blotting11 pad, said:
“Ye—es.”
“Don’t you agree with me that that’s what must have happened?”
“It could be—yes,” admitted the Inspector.
“What other solution could there be? Christian had no enemies. What I can’t understand is why you haven’talready arrested Walter?”
“Well, you see, Mrs. Strete, we have to have evidence.”
“You could probably get that easily enough. If you wired to America—”
“Oh yes, we shall check up on Mr. Walter Hudd. You can be sure of that. But until we can prove motive12, there’snot very much to go upon. There’s opportunity, of course—”
“He went out just after Christian, pretending the lights had fused—”
“They did fuse.”
“He could easily arrange that.”
“True.”
“That gave him his excuse. He followed Christian to his room, shot him and then repaired the fuse and came backto the Hall.”
“His wife says he came back before you heard the shot from outside.”
“Not a bit of it! Gina would say anything. The Italians are never truthful13. And she’s a Roman Catholic, of course.”
Inspector Curry sidestepped the ecclesiastical angle.
“You think his wife was in it with him?”
Mildred Strete hesitated for a moment.
“No—no, I don’t think that.” She seemed rather disappointed not to think so. She went on, “That must have beenpartly the motive—to prevent Gina’s learning the truth about him. After all, Gina is his bread and butter.”
“And a very beautiful girl.”
“Oh yes. I’ve always said Gina is good-looking. A very common type in Italy, of course. But if you ask me, it’smoney that Walter Hudd is after. That’s why he came over here and has settled down living on the Serrocolds.”
“Mrs. Hudd is very well off, I understand?”
“Not at present. My father settled the same sum on Gina’s mother, as he did on me. But, of course, she took herhusband’s nationality (I believe the law is altered now) and what with the war and his being a Fascist14, Gina has verylittle of her own. My mother spoils her, and her American aunt, Mrs. Van Rydock, spent fabulous15 sums on her andbought her everything she wanted during the war years. Nevertheless, from Walter’s point of view, he can’t lay hishands on much until my mother’s death when a very large fortune will come to Gina.”
“And to you, Mrs. Strete.”
A faint colour came into Mildred Strete’s cheek.
“And to me, as you say. My husband and myself always lived quietly. He spent very little money except on books—he was a great scholar. My own money has almost doubled itself. It is more than enough for my simple needs. Stillone can always use money for benefit of others. Any money that comes to me, I shall regard as a sacred trust.”
“But it won’t be in a Trust, will it?” said Curry, wilfully16 misunderstanding. “It will come to you, absolutely.”
“Oh yes—in that sense. Yes, it will be mine absolutely.”
Something in the ring of that last word made Inspector Curry raise his head sharply. Mrs. Strete was not looking athim. Her eyes were shining, and her long thin mouth was curved in a triumphant17 smile.
Inspector Curry said in a considering voice:
“So in your view—and, of course, you’ve had ample opportunities of judging—Mr. Walter Hudd wants the moneythat will come to his wife when Mrs. Serrocold dies. By the way, she’s not very strong is she, Mrs. Strete?”
“My mother has always been delicate.”
“Quite so. But delicate people often live as long or longer than people who have robust18 health.”
“Yes, I suppose they do.”
“You haven’t noticed your mother’s health failing just lately?”
“She suffers from rheumatism19. But then one must have something as one grows older. I’ve no sympathy withpeople who make a fuss over inevitable20 aches and pains.”
“Does Mrs. Serrocold make a fuss?”
Mildred Strete was silent for a moment. She said at last:
“She does not make a fuss herself, but she is used to being made a fuss of. My stepfather is far too solicitous21. Andas for Miss Bellever, she makes herself positively22 ridiculous. In any case, Miss Bellever has had a very bad influencein this house. She came here many years ago, and her devotion to my mother, though admirable in itself, has reallybecome somewhat of an infliction23. She literally24 tyrannises over my mother. She runs the whole house and takes far toomuch upon herself. I think it annoys Lewis sometimes. I should never be surprised if he told her to go. She has no tact25—no tact whatever, and it is trying for a man to find his wife completely dominated by a bossy26 woman.”
Inspector Curry nodded his head gently.
“I see … I see….”
He watched her speculatively27.
“There’s one thing I don’t quite get, Mrs. Strete. The position of the two Restarick brothers?”
“More foolish sentiment. Their father married my poor mother for her money. Two years afterwards, he ran awaywith a Yugoslavian singer of the lowest morals. He was a very unworthy person. My mother was softhearted enoughto be sorry for these two boys. Since it was out of the question for them to spend their holidays with a woman of suchnotorious morals, she more or less adopted them. They have been hangers-on here ever since. Oh yes, we’ve plenty ofspongers in this house, I can tell you that.”
“Alex Restarick had an opportunity of killing Christian Gulbrandsen. He was in his car alone—driving from thelodge to the house—what about Stephen?”
“Stephen was in the Hall with us. I don’t approve of Alex Restarick—he is getting to look very coarse and Iimagine he leads an irregular life—but I don’t really see him as a murderer. Besides, why should he kill my brother?”
“That’s what we always come back to, isn’t it?” said Inspector Curry genially28. “What did Christian Gulbrandsenknow—about someone—that made it necessary for that someone to kill him?”
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Strete triumphantly29. “It must be Walter Hudd.”
“Unless it’s someone nearer home.”
Mildred said sharply:
“What did you mean by that?”
Inspector Curry said slowly:
“Mr. Gulbrandsen seemed very concerned about Mrs. Serrocold’s health whilst he was here.”
Mrs. Strete frowned.
“Men always fuss over Mother because she looks fragile. I think she likes them to! Or else Christian had beenlistening to Juliet Bellever.”
“You’re not worried about your mother’s health yourself, Mrs. Strete?”
“No. I hope I’m sensible. Naturally Mother is not young—”
“And death comes to all of us,” said Inspector Curry. “But not ahead of its appointed time. That’s what we have toprevent.”
He spoke30 meaningly. Mildred Strete flared31 into sudden animation32.
“Oh it’s wicked—wicked. No one else here really seems to care. Why should they? I’m the only person who was ablood relation to Christian. To Mother, he was only a grown-up stepson. To Gina, he isn’t really any relation at all.
But he was my own brother.”
“Half brother,” suggested Inspector Curry.
“Half brother, yes. But we were both Gulbrandsens in spite of the difference in age.”
Curry said gently, “Yes—yes, I see your point….”
Tears in her eyes, Mildred Strete marched out. Curry looked at Lake.
“So she’s quite sure it’s Walter Hudd,” he said. “Won’t entertain for a moment the idea of its being anybody else.”
“And she may be right.”
“She certainly may. Wally fits. Opportunity — and motive. Because if he wants money quick, his wife’sgrandmother would have to die. So Wally tampers33 with her tonic34, and Christian Gulbrandsen sees him do it—or hearsabout it in some way. Yes, it fits very nicely.”
He paused and said:
“By the way, Mildred Strete likes money … She mayn’t spend it, but she likes it. I’m not sure why … She may bea miser—with a miser’s passion. Or she may like the power that money gives. Money for benevolence35, perhaps? She’sa Gulbrandsen. She may want to emulate36 Father.”
“Complex, isn’t it?” said Sergeant37 Lake, and scratched his head.
Inspector Curry said:
“We’d better see this screwy young man, Lawson, and after that we’ll go to the Great Hall and work out who waswhere—and if and why—and when … we’ve heard one or two rather interesting things this morning.”
2It was very difficult, Inspector Curry thought, to get a true estimate of someone from what other people said.
Edgar Lawson had been described by a good many different people that morning, but looking at him now, Curry’sown impressions were almost ludicrously different.
Edgar did not impress him as “queer” or “dangerous” or “arrogant” or even as “abnormal.” He seemed a veryordinary young man, very much cast down and in a state of humility38 approaching that of Uriah Heep’s. He lookedyoung and slightly common and rather pathetic.
He was only too anxious to talk and to apologize.
“I know I’ve done very wrong. I don’t know what came over me—really I don’t. Making that scene and kicking upsuch a row. And actually shooting off a pistol. At Mr. Serrocold, too, who’s been so good to me and so patient, too.”
He twisted his hands nervously39. They were rather pathetic hands, with bony wrists.
“If I’ve got to be had up for it, I’ll come with you at once. I deserve it. I’ll plead guilty.”
“No charge has been made against you,” said Inspector Curry crisply. “So we’ve no evidence on which to act.
According to Mr. Serrocold, letting off the pistol was an accident.”
“That’s because he’s so good. There never was a man as good as Mr. Serrocold! He’s done everything for me. AndI go and repay him by acting40 like this.”
“What made you act as you did?”
Edgar looked embarrassed.
“I made a fool of myself.”
Inspector Curry said drily:
“So it seems. You told Mr. Serrocold in the presence of witnesses that you had discovered that he was your father.
Was that true?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“What put that idea into your head? Did someone suggest it to you?”
“Well, it’s a bit hard to explain.”
Inspector Curry looked at him thoughtfully, then said in a kindly41 voice:
“Suppose you try. We don’t want to make things hard for you.”
“Well, you see, I had rather a hard time of it as a kid. The other boys jeered42 at me. Because I hadn’t got a father.
Said I was a little bastard43—which I was, of course. Mum was usually drunk and she had men coming in all the time.
My father was a foreign seaman44, I believe. The house was always filthy45 and it was all pretty fair hell. And then I got tothinking suppose my Dad had been not just some foreign sailor, but someone important—and I used to make up athing or two. Kid stuff first—changed at birth—really the rightful heir—that sort of thing. And then I went to a newschool and I tried it on once or twice hinting things. Said my father was really an Admiral in the navy. I got tobelieving it myself. I didn’t feel so bad then.”
He paused and then went on.
“And then—later—I thought up some other ideas. I used to stay at hotels and told a lot of silly stories about being afighter pilot—or about being in military intelligence. I got all sort of mixed up. I didn’t seem able to stop telling lies.
“Only I didn’t really try to get money by it. It was just swank so as to make people think a bit more of me. I didn’twant to be dishonest. Mr. Serrocold will tell you—and Dr. Maverick—they’ve got all the stuff about it.”
Inspector Curry nodded. He had already studied Edgar’s case history and his police record.
“Mr. Serrocold got me clear in the end and brought me down here. He said he needed a secretary to help him—andI did help him! I really did. Only the others laughed at me. They were always laughing at me.”
“What others? Mrs. Serrocold?”
“No, not Mrs. Serrocold. She’s a lady—she’s always gentle and kind. No, but Gina treated me like dirt. AndStephen Restarick. And Mrs. Strete looked down on me for not being a gentleman. So did Miss Bellever—and what’sshe? She’s a paid companion, isn’t she?”
Curry noted46 the signs of rising excitement.
“So you didn’t find them very sympathetic?”
Edgar said passionately47:
“It was because of me being a bastard. If I’d had a proper father they wouldn’t have gone on like that.”
“So you appropriated a couple of famous fathers?”
Edgar blushed.
“I always seem to get to telling lies,” he muttered.
“And finally, you said Mr. Serrocold was your father. Why?”
“Because that would stop them once for all, wouldn’t it? If he was my father they couldn’t do anything to me!”
“Yes. But you accused him of being your enemy—of persecuting48 you.”
“I know—” He rubbed his forehead. “I got things all wrong. There are times when I don’t—when I don’t get thingsquite right. I get muddled49.”
“And you took the revolver from Mr. Walter Hudd’s room?”
Edgar looked puzzled.
“Did I? Is that where I got it?”
“Don’t you remember where you got it?”
Edgar said:
“I meant to threaten Mr. Serrocold with it. I meant to frighten him. It was kid stuff all over again.”
Inspector Curry said patiently, “How did you get the revolver?”
“You just said—out of Walter’s room.”
“You remember doing that now?”
“I must have got it from his room. I couldn’t have got hold of it any other way, could I?”
“I don’t know,” said Inspector Curry. “Somebody—might have given it to you?”
Edgar was silent—his face a blank.
“Is that how it happened?”
Edgar said passionately:
“I don’t remember. I was so worked up. I walked about the garden in a red mist of rage. I thought people werespying on me, watching me, trying to hound me down. Even that nice white-haired old lady … I can’t understand it allnow. I feel I must have been mad. I don’t remember where I was and what I was doing half of the time!”
“Surely you remember who told you Mr. Serrocold was your father?”
Edgar gave the same blank stare.
“Nobody told me,” he said sullenly50. “It just came to me.”
Inspector Curry sighed. He was not satisfied. But he judged he could make no further progress at present.
“Well, watch your step in future,” he said.
“Yes, sir. Yes, indeed, I will.”
As Edgar went Inspector Curry slowly shook his head.
“These pathological cases are the devil!”
“D’you think he’s mad, sir?”
“Much less mad than I’d imagined. Weak-headed, boastful, a liar—yet a certain pleasant simplicity51 about him.
Highly suggestible I should imagine….”
“You think someone did suggest things to him?”
“Oh yes, old Miss Marple was right there. She’s a shrewd old bird. But I wish I knew who it was. He won’t tell. Ifwe only knew that … Come on, Lake, let’s have a thorough reconstruction52 of the scene in the Hall.”
3“That fixes it pretty well.”
Inspector Curry was sitting at the piano. Sergeant Lake was in a chair by the window overlooking the lake.
Curry went on.
“If I’m half-turned on the piano stool, watching the study door, I can’t see you.”
Sergeant Lake rose softly and edged quietly through the door to the library.
“All this side of the room was dark. The only lights that were on were the ones beside the study door. No, Lake, Ididn’t see you go. Once in the library, you could go out through the other door to the corridor—two minutes to runalong to the Oak Suite53, shoot Gulbrandsen and come back through the library to your chair by the window.
“The women by the fire have their backs to you. Mrs. Serrocold was sitting here—on the right of the fireplace, nearthe study door. Everyone agrees she didn’t move and she’s the only one who’s in the line of direct vision. Miss Marplewas here. She was looking past Mrs. Serrocold to the study. Mrs. Strete was on the left of the fireplace—close to thedoor out of the Hall to the lobby, and it’s a very dark corner. She could have gone and come back. Yes, it’s possible.”
Curry grinned suddenly.
“And I could go.” He slipped off the music stool and sidled along the wall and out through the door. “The onlyperson who might notice I wasn’t still at the piano would be Gina Hudd. And you remember what Gina said, ‘Stephenwas at the piano to begin with. I don’t know where he was later.’”
“So you think it’s Stephen?”
“I don’t know who it is,” said Curry. “It wasn’t Edgar Lawson or Lewis Serrocold or Mrs. Serrocold or Miss JaneMarple. But for the rest—” He sighed. “It’s probably the American. Those fused lights were a bit too convenient—acoincidence. And yet, you know, I rather like the chap. Still, that isn’t evidence.”
He peered thoughtfully at some music on the side of the piano. “Hindemith? Who’s he? Never heard of him.
Shostakovitch! What names these people have.” He got up and then looked down at the old-fashioned music stool. Helifted the top of it.
“Here’s the old-fashioned stuff. Handel’s Largo54. Czerny’s Exercises. Dates back to old Gulbrandsen, most of this.
‘I know a lovely Garden’—Vicar’s wife used to sing that when I was a boy—”
He stopped—the yellow pages of the song in his hand. Beneath them, reposing55 on Chopin’s Preludes56, was a smallautomatic pistol.
“Stephen Restarick,” exclaimed Sergeant Lake joyfully57.
“Now don’t jump to conclusions,” Inspector Curry warned him. “Ten to one that’s what we’re meant to think.”
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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curry
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| n.咖哩粉，咖哩饭菜；v.用咖哩粉调味，用马栉梳，制革 | |
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ascetic
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| adj.禁欲的；严肃的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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gangsters
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| 匪徒，歹徒( gangster的名词复数 ) | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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blotting
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motive
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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wilfully
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| adv.任性固执地；蓄意地 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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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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infliction
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| n.（强加于人身的）痛苦，刑罚 | |
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literally
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tact
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bossy
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| adj.爱发号施令的，作威作福的 | |
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speculatively
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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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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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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tampers
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| n.捣棒( tamper的名词复数 )；打夯机；夯具；填塞者v.窜改( tamper的第三人称单数 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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tonic
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benevolence
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emulate
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sergeant
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humility
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nervously
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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persecuting
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的现在分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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largo
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| n.广板乐章；adj.缓慢的，宽广的；adv.缓慢地，宽广地 | |
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reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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preludes
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| n.开端( prelude的名词复数 )；序幕；序曲；短篇作品 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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