M rs. McGillicuddy panted along the platform in the wake of the porter carrying her suitcase. Mrs. McGillicuddy wasshort and stout1, the porter was tall and free-striding. In addition, Mrs. McGillicuddy was burdened with a largequantity of parcels; the result of a day’s Christmas shopping. The race was, therefore, an uneven2 one, and the porterturned the corner at the end of the platform whilst Mrs. McGillicuddy was still coming up the straight.
No. 1 Platform was not at the moment unduly3 crowded, since a train had just gone out, but in the no-man’s-landbeyond, a milling crowd was rushing in several directions at once, to and from undergrounds, left-luggage offices, tearooms, inquiry4 offices, indicator5 boards, and the two outlets6, Arrival and Departure, to the outside world.
Mrs. McGillicuddy and her parcels were buffeted7 to and fro, but she arrived eventually at the entrance to No. 3Platform, and deposited one parcel at her feet whilst she searched her bag for the ticket that would enable her to passthe stern uniformed guardian8 at the gate.
At that moment, a Voice, raucous9 yet refined, burst into speech over her head.
“The train standing10 at Platform 3,” the Voice told her, “is the 4:50 for Brackhampton, Milchester, Waverton, CarvilJunction, Roxeter and stations to Chadmouth. Passengers for Brackhampton and Milchester travel at the rear of thetrain. Passengers for Vanequay change at Roxeter.” The Voice shut itself off with a click, and then reopenedconversation by announcing the arrival at Platform 9 of the 4:35 from Birmingham and Wolverhampton.
Mrs. McGillicuddy found her ticket and presented it. The man clipped it, murmured: “On the right—rear portion.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy padded up the platform and found her porter, looking bored and staring into space, outside thedoor of a third-class carriage.
“Here you are, lady.”
“I’m travelling first-class,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“You didn’t say so,” grumbled11 the porter. His eye swept her masculine- looking pepper- and- salt tweed coatdisparagingly.
Mrs. McGillicuddy, who had said so, did not argue the point. She was sadly out of breath.
The porter retrieved12 the suitcase and marched with it to the adjoining coach where Mrs. McGillicuddy was installedin solitary13 splendour. The 4:50 was not much patronized, the first-class clientele preferring either the faster morningexpress, or the 6:40 with dining car. Mrs. McGillicuddy handed the porter his tip which he received withdisappointment, clearly considering it more applicable to third-class than to first-class travel. Mrs. McGillicuddy,though prepared to spend money on comfortable travel after a night journey from the North and a day’s feverishshopping, was at no time an extravagant14 tipper.
She settled herself back on the plush cushions with a sigh and opened her magazine. Five minutes later, whistlesblew, and the train started. The magazine slipped from Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand, her head dropped sideways, threeminutes later she was asleep. She slept for thirty-five minutes and awoke refreshed. Resettling her hat which hadslipped askew15 she sat up and looked out of the window at what she could see of the flying countryside. It was quitedark now, a dreary16 misty17 December day—Christmas was only five days ahead. London had been dark and dreary; thecountry was no less so, though occasionally rendered cheerful with its constant clusters of lights as the train flashedthrough towns and stations.
“Serving last tea now,” said an attendant, whisking open the corridor door like a jinn. Mrs. McGillicuddy hadalready partaken of tea at a large department store. She was for the moment amply nourished. The attendant went ondown the corridor uttering his monotonous18 cry. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked up at the rack where her various parcelsreposed, with a pleased expression. The face towels had been excellent value and just what Margaret wanted, thespace gun for Robby and the rabbit for Jean were highly satisfactory, and that evening coatee was just the thing sheherself needed, warm but dressy. The pullover for Hector, too…her mind dwelt with approval on the soundness of herpurchases.
Her satisfied gaze returned to the window, a train travelling in the opposite direction rushed by with a screech,making the windows rattle19 and causing her to start. The train clattered20 over points and passed through a station.
Then it began suddenly to slow down, presumably in obedience21 to a signal. For some minutes it crawled along,then stopped, presently it began to move forward again. Another up-train passed them, though with less vehemencethan the first one. The train gathered speed again. At that moment another train, also on a down-line, swerved23 inwardstowards them, for a moment with almost alarming effect. For a time the two trains ran parallel, now one gaining alittle, now the other. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked from her window through the windows of the parallel carriages. Mostof the blinds were down, but occasionally the occupants of the carriages were visible. The other train was not very fulland there were many empty carriages.
At the moment when the two trains gave the illusion of being stationary24, a blind in one of the carriages flew upwith a snap. Mrs. McGillicuddy looked into the lighted first-class carriage that was only a few feet away.
Then she drew her breath in with a gasp25 and half-rose to her feet.
Standing with his back to the window and to her was a man. His hands were round the throat of a woman whofaced him, and he was slowly, remorselessly, strangling her. Her eyes were starting from their sockets26, her face waspurple and congested. As Mrs. McGillicuddy watched fascinated, the end came; the body went limp and crumpled27 inthe man’s hands.
At the same moment, Mrs. McGillicuddy’s train slowed down again and the other began to gain speed. It passedforward and a moment or two later it had vanished from sight.
Almost automatically Mrs. McGillicuddy’s hand went up to the communication cord, then paused, irresolute28. Afterall, what use would it be ringing the cord of the train in which she was travelling? The horror of what she had seen atsuch close quarters, and the unusual circumstances, made her feel paralysed. Some immediate29 action was necessary—but what?
The door of her compartment30 was drawn31 back and a ticket collector said, “Ticket, please.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy turned to him with vehemence22.
“A woman has been strangled,” she said. “In a train that has just passed. I saw it.”
The ticket collector looked at her doubtfully.
“I beg your pardon, madam?”
“A man strangled a woman! In a train. I saw it—through there.” She pointed32 to the window.
The ticket collector looked extremely doubtful.
“Strangled?” he said disbelievingly.
“Yes, strangled! I saw it, I tell you. You must do something at once!”
The ticket collector coughed apologetically.
“You don’t think, madam, that you may have had a little nap and—er—” he broke off tactfully.
“I have had a nap, but if you think this was a dream, you’re quite wrong. I saw it, I tell you.”
The ticket collector’s eyes dropped to the open magazine lying on the seat. On the exposed page was a girl beingstrangled whilst a man with a revolver threatened the pair from an open doorway33.
He said persuasively34: “Now don’t you think, madam, that you’d been reading an exciting story, and that you justdropped off, and awaking a little confused—”
Mrs. McGillicuddy interrupted him.
“I saw it,” she said. “I was as wide awake as you are. And I looked out of the window into the window of the trainalongside, and a man was strangling a woman. And what I want to know is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Well—madam—”
“You’re going to do something, I suppose?”
The ticket collector sighed reluctantly and glanced at his watch.
“We shall be in Brackhampton in exactly seven minutes. I’ll report what you’ve told me. In what direction was thetrain you mention going?”
“This direction, of course. You don’t suppose I’d have been able to see this if a train had flashed past going in theother direction?”
The ticket collector looked as though he thought Mrs. McGillicuddy was quite capable of seeing anythinganywhere as the fancy took her. But he remained polite.
“You can rely on me, madam,” he said. “I will report your statement. Perhaps I might have your name and address—just in case….”
Mrs. McGillicuddy gave him the address where she would be staying for the next few days and her permanentaddress in Scotland, and he wrote them down. Then he withdrew with the air of a man who has done his duty and dealtsuccessfully with a tiresome35 member of the travelling public.
Mrs. McGillicuddy remained frowning and vaguely36 unsatisfied. Would the ticket collector report her statement? Orhad he just been soothing37 her down? There were, she supposed vaguely, a lot of elderly women travelling around,fully convinced that they had unmasked communist plots, were in danger of being murdered, saw flying saucers andsecret space ships, and reported murders that had never taken place. If the man dismissed her as one of those….
The train was slowing down now, passing over points and running through the bright lights of a large town.
Mrs. McGillicuddy opened her handbag, pulled out a receipted bill which was all she could find, wrote a rapid noteon the back of it with her ball-pen, put it into a spare envelope that she fortunately happened to have, stuck theenvelope down and wrote on it.
The train drew slowly into a crowded platform. The usual ubiquitous Voice was intoning:
“The train now arriving at Platform 1 is the 5:38 for Milchester, Waverton, Roxeter, and stations to Chadmouth.
Passengers for Market Basing take the train now waiting at No. 3 platform. No. 1 bay for stopping train to Carbury.”
Mrs. McGillicuddy looked anxiously along the platform. So many passengers and so few porters. Ah, there wasone! She hailed him authoritatively38.
“Porter! Please take this at once to the Stationmaster’s office.”
She handed him the envelope, and with it a shilling.
Then, with a sigh, she leaned back. Well, she had done what she could. Her mind lingered with an instant’s regreton the shilling… Sixpence would really have been enough….
Her mind went back to the scene she had witnessed. Horrible, quite horrible… She was a strong-nerved woman,but she shivered. What a strange—what a fantastic thing to happen to her, Elspeth McGillicuddy! If the blind of thecarriage had not happened to fly up… But that, of course, was Providence39.
Providence had willed that she, Elspeth McGillicuddy, should be a witness of the crime. Her lips set grimly.
Voices shouted, whistles blew, doors were banged shut. The 5:38 drew slowly out of Brackhampton station. Anhour and five minutes later it stopped at Milchester.
Mrs. McGillicuddy collected her parcels and her suitcase and got out. She peered up and down the platform. Hermind reiterated40 its former judgment41: Not enough porters. Such porters as there were seemed to be engaged with mailbags and luggage vans. Passengers nowadays seemed always expected to carry their own cases. Well, she couldn’tcarry her suitcase and her umbrella and all her parcels. She would have to wait. In due course she secured a porter.
“Taxi?”
“There will be something to meet me, I expect.”
Outside Milchester station, a taxi-driver who had been watching the exit came forward. He spoke42 in a soft localvoice.
“Is it Mrs. McGillicuddy? For St. Mary Mead43?”
Mrs. McGillicuddy acknowledged her identity. The porter was recompensed, adequately if not handsomely. Thecar, with Mrs. McGillicuddy, her suitcase, and her parcels drove off into the night. It was a nine-mile drive. Sittingbolt upright in the car, Mrs. McGillicuddy was unable to relax. Her feelings yearned44 for expression. At last the taxidrove along the familiar village street and finally drew up at its destination; Mrs. McGillicuddy got out and walked upthe brick path to the door. The driver deposited the cases inside as the door was opened by an elderly maid. Mrs.
McGillicuddy passed straight through the hall to where, at the open sitting room door, her hostess awaited her; anelderly frail45 old lady.
“Elspeth!”
“Jane!”
They kissed and, without preamble46 or circumlocution47, Mrs. McGillicuddy burst into speech.
“Oh, Jane!” she wailed48. “I’ve just seen a murder!”
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收听单词发音
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2
uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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3
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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4
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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5
indicator
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| n.指标；指示物，指示者；指示器 | |
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6
outlets
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| n.出口( outlet的名词复数 )；经销店；插座；廉价经销店 | |
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7
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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8
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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9
raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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10
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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11
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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12
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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13
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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14
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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askew
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| adv.斜地；adj.歪斜的 | |
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16
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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17
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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18
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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19
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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20
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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21
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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23
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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25
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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26
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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27
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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28
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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29
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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30
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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31
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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32
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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33
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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34
persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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35
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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38
authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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39
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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40
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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42
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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43
mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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44
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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46
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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47
circumlocution
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| n. 绕圈子的话，迂回累赘的陈述 | |
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48
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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