IO nce again Miss Somers had just made tea in the typists’ room, and once again the kettle had not been boiling whenMiss Somers poured the water onto the tea. History repeats itself. Miss Griffith, accepting her cup, thought to herself:
“I really must speak to Mr. Percival about Somers. I’m sure we can do better. But with all this terrible business goingon, one doesn’t like to bother him over office details.”
As so often before Miss Griffith said sharply:
“Water not boiling again, Somers,” and Miss Somers, going pink, replied in her usual formula:
“Oh, dear, I was sure it was boiling this time.”
Further developments on the same line were interrupted by the entrance of Lance Fortescue. He looked round himsomewhat vaguely2, and Miss Griffith jumped up, came forward to meet him.
“Mr. Lance,” she exclaimed.
He swung round towards her and his face lit up in a smile.
“Hallo. Why, it’s Miss Griffith.”
Miss Griffith was delighted. Eleven years since he had seen her and he knew her name. She said in a confusedvoice:
“Fancy your remembering.”
And Lance said easily, with all his charm to the fore1:
“Of course I remember.”
A flicker3 of excitement was running round the typists’ room. Miss Somers’s troubles over the tea were forgotten.
She was gaping4 at Lance with her mouth slightly open. Miss Bell gazed eagerly over the top of her typewriter andMiss Chase unobtrusively drew out her compact and powdered her nose. Lance Fortescue looked round him.
“So everything’s still going on just the same here,” he said.
“Not many changes, Mr. Lance. How brown you look and how well! I suppose you must have had a veryinteresting life abroad.”
“You could call it that,” said Lance, “but perhaps I am now going to try and have an interesting life in London.”
“You’re coming back here to the office?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, but how delightful5.”
“You’ll find me very rusty,” said Lance. “You’ll have to show me all the ropes, Miss Griffith.”
Miss Griffith laughed delightedly.
“It will be very nice to have you back, Mr. Lance. Very nice indeed.”
Lance threw her an appreciative6 glance.
“That’s sweet of you,” he said, “that’s very sweet of you.”
“We never believed—none of us thought . . .” Miss Griffith broke off and flushed.
Lance patted her on the arm.
“You didn’t believe the devil was as black as he was painted? Well, perhaps he wasn’t. But that’s all old historynow. There’s no good going back over it. The future’s the thing.” He added, “Is my brother here?”
“He’s in the inner office, I think.”
Lance nodded easily and passed on. In the anteroom to the inner sanctum a hard-faced woman of middle age rosebehind a desk and said forbiddingly:
“Your name and business, please?”
Lance looked at her doubtfully.
“Are you—Miss Grosvenor?” he asked.
Miss Grosvenor had been described to him as a glamorous7 blonde. She had indeed appeared so in the pictures thathad appeared in the newspapers reporting the inquest on Rex Fortescue. This, surely, could not be Miss Grosvenor.
“Miss Grosvenor left last week. I am Mrs. Hardcastle, Mr. Percival Fortescue’s personal secretary.”
“How like old Percy,” thought Lance. “To get rid of a glamorous blonde and take on a Gordon instead. I wonderwhy? Was it safety or was it because this one comes cheaper?” Aloud he said easily:
“I’m Lancelot Fortescue. You haven’t met me yet.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Lancelot,” Mrs. Hardcastle apologized, “this is the first time, I think, you’ve been to theoffice?”
“The first time but not the last,” said Lance, smiling.
He crossed the room and opened the door of what had been his father’s private office. Somewhat to his surprise itwas not Percival who was sitting behind the desk there, but Inspector8 Neele. Inspector Neele looked up from a largewad of papers which he was sorting, and nodded his head.
“Good morning, Mr. Fortescue, you’ve come to take up your duties, I suppose.”
“So you’ve heard I decided9 to come into the firm?”
“Your brother told me so.”
“He did, did he? With enthusiasm?”
Inspector Neele endeavoured to conceal10 a smile.
“The enthusiasm was not marked,” he said gravely.
“Poor Percy,” commented Lance.
Inspector Neele looked at him curiously11.
“Are you really going to become a City man?”
“You don’t think it’s likely, Inspector Neele?”
“It doesn’t seem quite in character, Mr. Fortescue.”
“Why not? I’m my father’s son.”
“And your mother’s.”
Lance shook his head.
“You haven’t got anything there, Inspector. My mother was a Victorian romantic. Her favourite reading was theIdylls of the King, as indeed you may have deduced from our curious Christian12 names. She was an invalid13 and always,I should imagine, out of touch with reality. I’m not like that at all. I have no sentiment, very little sense of romanceand I’m a realist first and last.”
“People aren’t always what they think themselves to be,” Inspector Neele pointed14 out.
“No, I suppose that’s true,” said Lance.
He sat down in a chair and stretched his long legs out in his own characteristic fashion. He was smiling to himself.
Then he said unexpectedly:
“You’re shrewder than my brother, Inspector.”
“In what way, Mr. Fortescue?”
“I’ve put the wind up Percy all right. He thinks I’m all set for the City life. He thinks he’s going to have my fingersfiddling about his pie. He thinks I’ll launch out and spend the firm’s money and try and embroil15 him in wildcatschemes. It would be almost worth doing just for the fun of it! Almost, but not quite. I couldn’t really stand an officelife, Inspector. I like the open air and some possibilities of adventure. I’d stifle16 in a place like this.” He added quickly:
“This is off the record, mind. Don’t give me away to Percy, will you?”
“I don’t suppose the subject will arise, Mr. Fortescue.”
“I must have my bit of fun with Percy,” said Lance. “I want to make him sweat a bit. I’ve got to get a bit of myown back.”
“That’s rather a curious phrase, Mr. Fortescue,” said Neele. “Your own back—for what?”
Lance shrugged17 his shoulders.
“Oh, it’s old history now. Not worth going back over.”
“There was a little matter of a cheque, I understand, in the past. Would that be what you’re referring to?”
“How much you know, Inspector!”
“There was no question of prosecution18, I understand,” said Neele. “Your father wouldn’t have done that.”
“No. He just kicked me out, that’s all.”
Inspector Neele eyed him speculatively19, but it was not Lance Fortescue of whom he was thinking, but of Percival.
The honest, industrious20, parsimonious21 Percival. It seemed to him that wherever he got in the case he was alwayscoming up against the enigma22 of Percival Fortescue, a man of whom everybody knew the outer aspects, but whoseinner personality was much harder to gauge23. One would have said from observing him a somewhat colourless andinsignificant character, a man who had been very much under his father’s thumb. Percy Prim24 in fact, as the AC hadonce said. Neele was trying now, through Lance, to get at a closer appreciation25 of Percival’s personality. Hemurmured in a tentative manner:
“Your brother seems always to have been very much—well, how shall I put it—under your father’s thumb.”
“I wonder.” Lance seemed definitely to be considering the point. “I wonder. Yes, that would be the effect, I think,given. But I’m not sure that it was really the truth. It’s astonishing, you know, when I look back through life, to seehow Percy always got his own way without seeming to do so, if you know what I mean.”
Yes, Inspector Neele thought, it was indeed astonishing. He sorted through the papers in front of him, fished out aletter and shoved it across the desk towards Lance.
“This is a letter you wrote last August, isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”
Lance took it, glanced at it and returned it.
“Yes,” he said, “I wrote it after I got back to Kenya last summer. Dad kept it, did he? Where was it—here in theoffice?”
“No, Mr. Fortescue, it was among your father’s papers in Yewtree Lodge26.”
The inspector considered it speculatively as it lay on the desk in front of him. It was not a long letter.
Dear Dad,
I’ve talked things over with Pat and I agree to your proposition. It will take me a little time to get things fixed27 uphere, say about the end of October or beginning of November. I’ll let you know nearer the time. I hope we’ll pulltogether better than we used to do. Anyway, I’ll do my best. I can’t say more. Look after yourself.
Yours, Lance.
“Where did you address this letter, Mr. Fortescue. To the office or Yewtree Lodge?”
Lance frowned in an effort of recollection.
“It’s difficult. I can’t remember. You see it’s almost three months now. The office, I think. Yes, I’m almost sure.
Here to the office.” He paused a moment before asking with frank curiosity: “Why?”
“I wondered,” said Inspector Neele. “Your father did not put it on the file here among his private papers. He took itback with him to Yewtree Lodge, and I found it in his desk there. I wondered why he should have done that.”
Lance laughed.
“To keep it out of Percy’s way, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Inspector Neele, “it would seem so. Your brother, then, had access to your father’s private papershere?”
“Well,” Lance hesitated and frowned, “not exactly. I mean, I suppose he could have looked through them at anytime if he liked, but he wouldn’t be. . . .”
Inspector Neele finished the sentence for him.
“Wouldn’t be supposed to do so?”
Lance grinned broadly. “That’s right. Frankly28, it would have been snooping. But Percy, I should imagine, alwaysdid snoop.”
Inspector Neele nodded. He also thought it probable that Percival Fortescue snooped. It would be in keeping withwhat the inspector was beginning to learn of his character.
“And talk of the devil,” murmured Lance, as at that moment the door opened and Percival Fortescue came in.
About to speak to the inspector he stopped, frowning, as he saw Lance.
“Hallo,” he said. “You here? You didn’t tell me you were coming here today.”
“I felt a kind of zeal29 for work coming over me,” said Lance, “so here I am ready to make myself useful. What doyou want me to do?”
Percival said testily30:
“Nothing at present. Nothing at all. We shall have to come to some kind of arrangement as to what side of thebusiness you’re going to look after. We shall have to arrange for an office for you.”
Lance inquired with a grin:
“By the way, why did you get rid of glamorous Grosvenor, old boy, and replace her by Horsefaced Hetty outthere?”
“Really, Lance,” Percival protested sharply.
“Definitely a change for the worse,” said Lance. “I’ve been looking forward to the glamorous Grosvenor. Why didyou sack her? Thought she knew a bit too much?”
“Of course not. What an ideal!” Percy spoke31 angrily, a flush mounting his pale face. He turned to the inspector.
“You mustn’t pay any attention to my brother,” he said coldly. “He has a rather peculiar32 sense of humour.” He added:
“I never had a very high opinion of Miss Grosvenor’s intelligence. Mrs. Hardcastle has excellent references and ismost capable besides being very moderate in her terms.”
“Very moderate in her terms,” murmured Lance, casting his eyes towards the ceiling. “You know, Percy, I don’treally approve of skimping33 over the office personnel. By the way, considering how loyalty34 the staff has stood by usduring these last tragic35 weeks, don’t you think we ought to raise their salaries all round?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Percival Fortescue. “Quite uncalled for and unnecessary.”
Inspector Neele noticed the gleam of devilry in Lance’s eyes. Percival, however, was far too much upset to noticeit.
“You always had the most extraordinary extravagant36 ideas,” he stuttered. “In the state in which this firm has beenleft, economy is our only hope.”
Inspector Neele coughed apologetically.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Fortescue,” he said to Percival.
“Yes, Inspector?” Percival switched his attention to Neele.
“I want to put certain suggestions before you, Mr. Fortescue. I understand that for the past six months or longer,possibly a year, your father’s general behaviour and conduct has been a source of increasing anxiety to you.”
“He wasn’t well,” said Percival, with finality. “He certainly wasn’t at all well.”
“You tried to induce him to see a doctor but you failed. He refused categorically?”
“That is so.”
“May I ask you if you suspected that your father was suffering from what is familiarly referred to as GPI, GeneralParalysis of the Insane, a condition with signs of megalomania and irritability37 which terminates sooner or later inhopeless insanity38?”
Percival looked surprised. “It is remarkably39 astute40 of you, Inspector. That is exactly what I did fear. That is why Iwas so anxious for my father to submit to medical treatment.”
Neele went on:
“In the meantime, until you could persuade your father to do that, he was capable of causing a great deal of havocto the business?”
“He certainly was,” Percival agreed.
“A very unfortunate state of affairs,” said the inspector.
“Quite terrible. No one knows the anxiety I have been through.”
Neele said gently:
“From the business point of view, your father’s death was an extremely fortunate circumstance.”
Percival said sharply:
“You can hardly think I would regard my father’s death in that light.”
“It is not a question of how you regard it, Mr. Fortescue. I’m speaking merely of a question of fact. Your fatherdied before his finances were completely on the rocks.”
Percival said impatiently:
“Yes, yes. As a matter of actual fact, you are right.”
“It was a fortunate occurrence for your whole family, since they are dependent on this business.”
“Yes. But really, Inspector, I don’t see what you’re driving at . . .” Percival broke off.
“Oh, I’m not driving at anything, Mr. Fortescue,” said Neele. “I just like getting my facts straight. Now there’sanother thing. I understood you to say that you’d had no communication of any kind with your brother here since heleft England many years ago.”
“Quite so,” said Percival.
“Yes, but it isn’t quite so, is it, Mr. Fortescue? I mean that last spring when you were so worried about yourfather’s health, you actually wrote to your brother in Africa, told him of your anxiety about your father’s behaviour.
You wanted, I think, your brother to combine with you in getting your father medically examined and put underrestraint, if necessary.”
“I—I—really, I don’t see . . .” Percival was badly shaken.
“That is so, isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”
“Well, actually, I thought it only right. After all, Lancelot was a junior partner.”
Inspector Neele transferred his gaze to Lance. Lance was grinning.
“You received that letter?” Inspector Neele asked.
Lance Fortescue nodded.
“What did you reply to it?”
Lance’s grin widened.
“I told Percy to go and boil his head and to let the old man alone. I said the old man probably knew what he wasdoing quite well.”
Inspector Neele’s gaze went back again to Percival.
“Were those the terms of your brother’s answer?”
“I—I—well, I suppose roughly, yes. Far more offensively couched, however.”
“I thought the inspector had better have a bowdlerized version,” said Lance. He went on, “Frankly, InspectorNeele, that is one of the reasons why, when I got a letter from my father, I came home to see for myself what Ithought. In the short interview I had with my father, frankly I couldn’t see anything much wrong with him. He wasslightly excitable, that was all. He appeared to me perfectly41 capable of managing his own affairs. Anyway, after I gotback to Africa and had talked things over with Pat, I decided that I’d come home and—what shall we say—see fairplay.”
He shot a glance at Percival as he spoke.
“I object,” said Percival Fortescue. “I object strongly to what you are suggesting. I was not intending to victimizemy father, I was concerned for his health. I admit that I was also concerned . . .” he paused.
Lance filled the pause quickly.
“You were also concerned for your pocket, eh? For Percy’s little pocket.” He got up and all of a sudden his mannerchanged. “All right, Percy, I’m through. I was going to string you along a bit by pretending to work here. I wasn’tgoing to let you have things all your own sweet way, but I’m damned if I’m going on with it. Frankly, it makes mesick to be in the same room with you. You’ve always been a dirty, mean little skunk42 all your life. Prying43 and snoopingand lying and making trouble. I’ll tell you another thing. I can’t prove it, but I’ve always believed it was you whoforged that cheque there was all the row about, that got me shot out of here. For one thing it was a damn bad forgery44, aforgery that drew attention to itself in letters a foot high. My record was too bad for me to be able to protesteffectively, but I often wondered that the old boy didn’t realize that if I had forged his name I could have made a muchbetter job of it than that.”
Lance swept on, his voice rising. “Well, Percy, I’m not going on with this silly game. I’m sick of this country, andof the City. I’m sick of little men like you with their pinstripe trousers and their black coats and their mincing45 voicesand their mean, shoddy financial deals. We’ll share out as you suggested, and I’ll get back with Pat to a differentcountry—a country where there’s room to breathe and move about. You can make your own division of securities.
Keep the gilt-edged and the conservative ones, keep the safe two percent and three percent and three and a halfpercent. Give me father’s latest wildcat speculations46 as you call them. Most of them are probably duds. But I’ll betthat one or two of them will pay better in the end than all your playing safe with three percent Trustee Stocks will do.
Father was a shrewd old devil. He took chances, plenty of them. Some of those chances paid five and six and sevenhundred percent. I’ll back his judgment47 and his luck. As for you, you little worm. . . .”
Lance advanced towards his brother, who retreated rapidly, round the end of the desk towards Inspector Neele.
“All right,” said Lance, “I’m not going to touch you. You wanted me out of here, you’re getting me out of here.
You ought to be satisfied.”
He added as he strode towards the door:
“You can throw in the old Blackbird Mine concession48 too, if you like. If we’ve got the murdering MacKenzies onour trail, I’ll draw them off to Africa.”
He added as he swung through the doorway49:
“Revenge—after all these years—scarcely seems credible50. But Inspector Neele seems to take it seriously, don’tyou, Inspector?”
“Nonsense,” said Percival. “Such a thing is impossible!”
“Ask him,” said Lance. “Ask him why he’s making all these inquiries51 into blackbirds and rye in father’s pocket.”
Gently stroking his upper lip, Inspector Neele said:
“You remember the blackbirds last summer, Mr. Fortescue. There are certain grounds for inquiry52.”
“Nonsense,” said Percival again. “Nobody’s heard of the MacKenzies for years.”
“And yet,” said Lance, “I’d almost dare to swear that there’s a MacKenzie in our midst. I rather imagine theinspector thinks so, too.”
II
Inspector Neele caught up Lancelot Fortescue as the latter emerged into the street below.
Lance grinned at him rather sheepishly.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” he said. “But I suddenly lost my temper. Oh! well—it would have come to the samebefore long. I’m meeting Pat at the Savoy—are you coming my way, Inspector?”
“No, I’m returning to Baydon Heath. But there’s just something I’d like to ask you, Mr. Fortescue.”
“Yes!”
“When you came into the inner office and saw me there—you were surprised. Why?”
“Because I didn’t expect to see you, I suppose. I thought I’d find Percy there.”
“You weren’t told that he’d gone out?”
Lance looked at him curiously.
“No. They said he was in his office.”
“I see—nobody knew he’d gone out. There’s no second door out of the inner office—but there is a door leadingstraight into the corridor from the little antechamber—I suppose your brother went out that way—but I’m surprisedMrs. Hardcastle didn’t tell you so.”
Lance laughed.
“She’d probably been to collect her cup of tea.”
“Yes—yes—quite so.”
Lance looked at him.
“What’s the idea, Inspector?”
“Just puzzling over a few little things, that’s all, Mr. Fortescue—”
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vaguely
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flicker
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gaping
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delightful
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appreciative
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glamorous
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inspector
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decided
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conceal
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curiously
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invalid
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pointed
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embroil
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stifle
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shrugged
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prosecution
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speculatively
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industrious
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enigma
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frankly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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42
skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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43
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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44
forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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45
mincing
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| adj.矫饰的；v.切碎；切碎 | |
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46
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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47
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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48
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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49
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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50
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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51
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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52
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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