II n the train on the way down to Baydon Heath, Inspector1 Neele had singularly little success doing The Timescrossword. His mind was distracted by various possibilities. In the same way he read the news with only half his braintaking it in. He read of an earthquake in Japan, of the discovery of uranium deposits in Tanganyika, of the body of amerchant seaman3 washed up near Southampton, and of the imminent4 strike among the dockers. He read of the latestvictims of the cosh and of a new drug that had achieved wonders in advanced cases of tuberculosis5.
All these items made a queer kind of pattern in the back of his mind. Presently he returned to the crossword2 puzzleand was able to put down three clues in rapid succession.
When he reached Yewtree Lodge6 he had come to a certain decision. He said to Sergeant7 Hay:
“Where’s that old lady? Is she still there?”
“Miss Marple? Oh, yes, she’s here still. Great buddies8 with the old lady upstairs.”
“I see.” Neele paused for a moment and then said: “Where is she now? I’d like to see her.”
Miss Marple arrived in a few minutes’ time, looking rather flushed and breathing fast.
“You want to see me, Inspector Neele? I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting. Sergeant Hay couldn’t find me at first.
I was in the kitchen, talking to Mrs. Crump. I was congratulating her on her pastry9 and how light her hand is, andtelling her how delicious the soufflé was last night. I always think, you know, it’s better to approach a subjectgradually, don’t you? At least, I suppose it isn’t so easy for you. You more or less have to come almost straight awayto the questions you want to ask. But of course for an old lady like me who has all the time in the world, as you mightsay, it’s really expected of her that there should be a great deal of unnecessary talk. And the way to a cook’s heart, asthey say, is through her pastry.”
“What you really wanted to talk to her about,” said Inspector Neele, “was Gladys Martin?”
Miss Marple nodded.
“Yes. Gladys. You see, Mrs. Crump could really tell me a lot about the girl. Not in connection with the murder. Idon’t mean that. But about her spirits lately and the odd things she said. I don’t mean odd in the sense of peculiar10. Imean just the odds11 and ends of conversation.”
“Did you find it helpful?” asked Inspector Neele.
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “I found it very helpful indeed. I really think, you know, that things are becoming verymuch clearer, don’t you?”
“I do and I don’t,” said Inspector Neele.
Sergeant Hay, he noticed, had left the room. He was glad of it because what he was about to do now was, to say theleast of it, slightly unorthodox.
“Look here, Miss Marple,” he said, “I want to talk to you seriously.”
“Yes, Inspector Neele?”
“In a way,” said Inspector Neele, “you and I represent different points of view. I admit, Miss Marple, that I’veheard something about you at the Yard.” He smiled: “It seems you’re fairly well-known there.”
“I don’t know how it is,” fluttered Miss Marple, “but I so often seem to get mixed-up in the things that are really noconcern of mine. Crimes, I mean, and peculiar happenings.”
“You’ve got a reputation,” said Inspector Neele.
“Sir Henry Clithering, of course,” said Miss Marple, “is a very old friend of mine.”
“As I said before,” Neele went on, “you and I represent opposite points of view. One might almost call them sanityand insanity12.”
Miss Marple put her head a little on one side.
“Now what exactly do you mean by that, I wonder, Inspector?”
“Well, Miss Marple, there’s a sane13 way of looking at things. This murder benefits certain people. One person, Imay say, in particular. The second murder benefits the same person. The third murder one might call a murder forsafety.”
“But which do you call the third murder?” Miss Marple asked.
Her eyes, a very bright china blue, looked shrewdly at the inspector. He nodded.
“Yes. You’ve got something there perhaps. You know, the other day when the AC was speaking to me of thesemurders, something that he said seemed to me to be wrong. That was it. I was thinking, of course, of the nurseryrhyme. The King in his counting-house, the Queen in the parlour and the maid hanging out the clothes.”
“Exactly,” said Miss Marple. “A sequence in that order, but actually Gladys must have been murdered before Mrs.
Fortescue, mustn’t she?”
“I think so,” said Neele. “I take it it’s quite certainly so. Her body wasn’t discovered till late that night, and ofcourse it was difficult then to say exactly how long she’d been dead. But I think myself that she must almost certainlyhave been murdered round about five o’clock, because otherwise. . . .”
Miss Marple cut in. “Because otherwise she would certainly have taken the second tray into the drawing room?”
“Quite so. She took one tray in with the tea on it, she brought the second tray into the hall, and then somethinghappened. She saw something or heard something. The question is what that something was. It might have beenDubois coming down the stairs from Mrs. Fortescue’s room. It might have been Elaine Fortescue’s young man, GeraldWright, coming in at the side door. Whoever it was lured14 her away from the tea tray and out into the garden. And oncethat had happened I don’t see any possibility of her death being long delayed. It was cold out and she was onlywearing her thin uniform.”
“Of course you’re quite right,” said Miss Marple. “I mean it was never a case of ‘the maid was in the gardenhanging up the clothes.’ She wouldn’t be hanging up clothes at that time of the evening and she wouldn’t go out to theclothesline without putting a coat on. That was all camouflage15, like the clothes-peg, to make the thing fit in with therhyme.”
“Exactly,” said Inspector Neele, “crazy. That’s where I can’t yet see eye to eye with you. I can’t—I simply can’tswallow this nursery rhyme business.”
“But it fits, Inspector. You must agree it fits.”
“It fits,” said Neele heavily, “but all the same the sequence is wrong. I mean the rhyme definitely suggests that themaid was the third murder. But we know that the Queen was the third murder. Adele Fortescue was not killed untilbetween twenty-five past five and five minutes to six. By then Gladys must already have been dead.”
“And that’s all wrong, isn’t it?” said Miss Marple. “All wrong for the nursery rhyme—that’s very significant, isn’tit?”
Inspector Neele shrugged16 his shoulders.
“It’s probably splitting hairs. The deaths fulfil the conditions of the rhyme, and I suppose that’s all that was needed.
But I’m talking now as though I were on your side. I’m going to outline my side of the case now, Miss Marple. I’mwashing out the blackbirds and the rye and all the rest of it. I’m going by sober facts and common sense and thereasons for which sane people do murders. First, the death of Rex Fortescue, and who benefits by his death. Well, itbenefits quite a lot of people, but most of all it benefits his son, Percival. His son Percival wasn’t at Yewtree Lodgethat morning. He couldn’t have put poison in his father’s coffee or in anything that he ate for breakfast. Or that’s whatwe thought at first.”
“Ah,” Miss Marple’s eyes brightened. “So there was a method, was there? I’ve been thinking about it, you know, agood deal, and I’ve had several ideas. But of course no evidence or proof.”
“There’s no harm in my letting you know,” said Inspector Neele. “Taxine was added to a new jar of marmalade.
That jar of marmalade was placed on the breakfast table and the top layer of it was eaten by Mr. Fortescue atbreakfast. Later that jar of marmalade was thrown out into the bushes and a similar jar with a similar amount taken outof it was placed in the pantry. The jar in the bushes was found and I’ve just had the result of the analysis. It showsdefinite evidence of taxine.”
“So that was it,” murmured Miss Marple. “So simple and easy to do.”
“Consolidated Investments,” Neele went on, “was in a bad way. If the firm had had to pay out a hundred thousandpounds to Adele Fortescue under her husband’s will, it would, I think, have crashed. If Mrs. Fortescue had survivedher husband for a month that money would have had to be paid out to her. She would have had no feeling for the firmor its difficulties. But she didn’t survive her husband for a month. She died, and as a result of her death the gainer wasthe residuary legatee of Rex Fortescue’s will. In other words, Percival Fortescue again.
“Always Percival Fortescue,” the inspector continued bitterly. “And though he could have tampered17 with themarmalade, he couldn’t have poisoned his stepmother or strangled Gladys. According to his secretary he was in hiscity office at five o’clock that afternoon, and he didn’t arrive back here until nearly seven.”
“That makes it very difficult, doesn’t it?” said Miss Marple.
“It makes it impossible,” said Inspector Neele gloomily. “In other words, Percival is out.” Abandoning restraint andprudence, he spoke18 with some bitterness, almost unaware19 of his listener. “Wherever I go, wherever I turn, I alwayscome up against the same person. Percival Fortescue! Yet it can’t be Percival Fortescue.” Calming himself a little hesaid: “Oh, there are other possibilities, other people who had a perfectly20 good motive21.”
“Mr. Dubois, of course,” said Miss Marple sharply. “And that young Mr. Wright. I do so agree with you, Inspector.
Wherever there is a question of gain, one has to be very suspicious. The great thing to avoid is having in any way atrustful mind.”
In spite of himself, Neele smiled.
“Always think the worst, eh?” he asked.
It seemed a curious doctrine22 to be proceeding23 from this charming and fragile-looking old lady.
“Oh yes,” said Miss Marple fervently24. “I always believe the worst. What is so sad is that one is usually justified25 indoing so.”
“All right,” said Neele, “let’s think the worst. Dubois could have done it, Gerald Wright could have done it (that isto say if he’d been acting26 in collusion with Elaine Fortescue and she tampered with the marmalade), Mrs. Percivalcould have done it, I suppose. She was on the spot. But none of the people I have mentioned tie up with the crazyangle. They don’t tie up with blackbirds and pockets full of rye. That’s your theory and it may be that you’re right. Ifso, it boils down to one person, doesn’t it? Mrs. MacKenzie’s in a mental home and has been for a good number ofyears. She hasn’t been messing about with marmalade pots or putting cyanide in the drawing room afternoon tea. Herson Donald was killed at Dunkirk. That leaves the daughter, Ruby27 MacKenzie. And if your theory is correct, if thiswhole series of murders arises out of the old Blackbird Mine business, then Ruby MacKenzie must be here in thishouse, and there’s only one person that Ruby MacKenzie could be.”
“I think, you know,” said Miss Marple, “that you’re being a little too dogmatic.”
Inspector Neele paid no attention.
“Just one person,” he said grimly.
He got up and went out of the room.
II
Mary Dove was in her sitting room. It was a small, rather austerely28 furnished room, but comfortable. That is to sayMiss Dove herself had made it comfortable. When Inspector Neele tapped at the door Mary Dove raised her head,which had been bent29 over a pile of tradesmen’s books, and said in her clear voice:
“Come in.”
The inspector entered.
“Do sit down, Inspector.” Miss Dove indicated a chair. “Could you wait just one moment? The total of thefishmonger’s account does not seem to be correct and I must check it.”
Inspector Neele sat in silence watching her as she totted up the column. How wonderfully calm and self-possessedthe girl was, he thought. He was intrigued30, as so often before, by the personality that underlay31 that self-assuredmanner. He tried to trace in her features any resemblance to those of the woman he had talked to at the PinewoodSanatorium. The colouring was not unlike, but he could detect no real facial resemblance. Presently Mary Dove raisedher head from her accounts and said:
“Yes, Inspector? What can I do for you?”
Inspector Neele said quietly:
“You know, Miss Dove, there are certain very peculiar features about this case.”
“Yes?”
“To begin with there is the odd circumstance of the rye found in Mr. Fortescue’s pocket.”
“That was very extraordinary,” Mary Dove agreed. “You know I really cannot think of any explanation for that.”
“Then there is the curious circumstance of the blackbirds. Those four blackbirds on Mr. Fortescue’s desk lastsummer, and also the incident of the blackbirds being substituted for the veal32 and ham in the pie. You were here, Ithink, Miss Dove, at the time of both those occurrences?”
“Yes, I was. I remember now. It was most upsetting. It seemed such a very purposeless, spiteful thing to do,especially at the time.”
“Perhaps not entirely33 purposeless. What do you know, Miss Dove, about the Blackbird Mine?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Blackbird Mine.”
“Your name, you told me, is Mary Dove. Is that your real name, Miss Dove?”
Mary raised her eyebrows35. Inspector Neele was almost sure that a wary36 expression had come into her blue eyes.
“What an extraordinary question, Inspector. Are you suggesting that my name is not Mary Dove?”
“That is exactly what I am suggesting. I’m suggesting,” said Neele pleasantly, “that your name is RubyMacKenzie.”
She stared at him. For a moment her face was entirely blank with neither protest on it nor surprise. There was,Inspector Neele thought, a very definite effect of calculation. After a minute or two she said in a quiet, colourlessvoice:
“What do you expect me to say?”
“Please answer me. Is your name Ruby MacKenzie?”
“I have told you my name is Mary Dove.”
“Yes, but have you proof of that, Miss Dove?”
“What do you want to see? My birth certificate?”
“That might be helpful or it might not. You might, I mean, be in possession of the birth certificate of a Mary Dove.
That Mary Dove might be a friend of yours or might be someone who had died.”
“Yes, there are a lot of possibilities, aren’t there?” Amusement had crept back into Mary Dove’s voice. “It’s reallyquite a dilemma37 for you, isn’t it, Inspector?”
“They might possibly be able to recognize you at Pinewood Sanatorium,” said Neele.
“Pinewood Sanatorium!” Mary raised her eyebrow34. “What or where is Pinewood Sanatorium?”
“I think you know very well, Miss Dove.”
“I assure you I am quite in the dark.”
“And you deny categorically that you are Ruby MacKenzie?”
“I shouldn’t really like to deny anything. I think, you know, Inspector, that it’s up to you to prove I am this RubyMacKenzie, whoever she is.” There was a definite amusement now in her blue eyes, amusement and challenge.
Looking him straight in the eyes, Mary Dove said, “Yes, it’s up to you, Inspector. Prove that I’m Ruby MacKenzie ifyou can.”
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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crossword
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| n.纵横字谜，纵横填字游戏 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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tuberculosis
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| n.结核病，肺结核 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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sergeant
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buddies
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| n.密友( buddy的名词复数 )；同伴；弟兄；（用于称呼男子，常带怒气）家伙v.（如密友、战友、伙伴、弟兄般）交往( buddy的第三人称单数 )；做朋友；亲近（…）；伴护艾滋病人 | |
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pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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odds
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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camouflage
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| n./v.掩饰，伪装 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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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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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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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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motive
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doctrine
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proceeding
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fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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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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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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austerely
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| adv.严格地，朴质地 | |
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bent
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intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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underlay
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| v.位于或存在于（某物）之下( underlie的过去式 )；构成…的基础（或起因），引起n.衬垫物 | |
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veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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