I“H ere we are,” said Miss Knight1, settling a breakfast tray on the bed table beside Miss Marple. “And how are we thismorning? I see we’ve got our curtains pulled back,” she added with a slight note of disapproval2 in her voice.
“I wake early,” said Miss Marple. “You probably will, when you’re my age,” she added.
“Mrs. Bantry rang up,” said Miss Knight, “about half an hour ago. She wanted to talk to you but I said she’d betterring up again after you’d had your breakfast. I wasn’t going to disturb you at that hour, before you’d even had a cup oftea or anything to eat.”
“When my friends ring up,” said Miss Marple, “I prefer to be told.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sure,” said Miss Knight, “but it seemed to me very inconsiderate. When you’ve had your nice teaand your boiled egg and your toast and butter, we’ll see.”
“Half an hour ago,” said Miss Marple, thoughtfully, “that would have been—let me see—eight o’clock.”
“Much too early,” reiterated3 Miss Knight.
“I don’t believe Mrs. Bantry would have rung me up then unless it was for some particular reason,” said MissMarple thoughtfully. “She doesn’t usually ring up in the early morning.”
“Oh well, dear, don’t fuss your head about it,” said Miss Knight soothingly4. “I expect she’ll be ringing up againvery shortly. Or would you like me to get her for you?”
“No, thank you,” said Miss Marple. “I prefer to eat my breakfast while it’s hot.”
“Hope I haven’t forgotten anything,” said Miss Knight, cheerfully.
But nothing had been forgotten. The tea had been properly made with boiling water, the egg had been boiledexactly three and three-quarter minutes, the toast was evenly browned, the butter was arranged in a nice little pat andthe small jar of honey stood beside it. In many ways undeniably Miss Knight was a treasure. Miss Marple ate herbreakfast and enjoyed it. Presently the whirr of a vacuum cleaner began below. Cherry had arrived.
Competing with the whirr of the vacuum cleaner was a fresh tuneful voice singing one of the latest popular tunes5 ofthe day. Miss Knight, coming in for the breakfast tray, shook her head.
“I really wish that young woman wouldn’t go singing all over the house,” she said. “It’s not what I call respectful.”
Miss Marple smiled a little. “It would never enter Cherry’s head that she would have to be respectful,” sheremarked. “Why should she?”
Miss Knight sniffed6 and said, “Very different to what things used to be.”
“Naturally,” said Miss Marple. “Times change. That is a thing which has to be accepted.” She added, “Perhapsyou’ll ring up Mrs. Bantry now and find out what it was she wanted.”
Miss Knight bustled7 away. A minute or two later there was a rap on the door and Cherry entered. She was lookingbright and excited and extremely pretty. A plastic overall rakishly patterned with sailors and naval8 emblems9 was tiedround her dark blue dress.
“Your hair looks nice,” said Miss Marple.
“Went for a perm yesterday,” said Cherry. “A bit stiff still, but it’s going to be all right. I came up to see if you’dheard the news.”
“What news?” said Miss Marple.
“About what happened at Gossington Hall yesterday. You know there was a big do there for the St. JohnAmbulance?”
Miss Marple nodded. “What happened?” she asked.
“Somebody died in the middle of it. A Mrs. Badcock. Lives round the corner from us. I don’t suppose you’d knowher.”
“Mrs. Badcock?” Miss Marple sounded alert. “But I do know her. I think—yes, that was the name—she came outand picked me up when I fell down the other day. She was very kind.”
“Oh, Heather Badcock’s kind all right,” said Cherry. “Overkind, some people say. They call it interfering10. Well,anyway, she up and died. Just like that.”
“Died! But what of?”
“Search me,” said Cherry. “She’d been taken into the house because of her being the secretary of the St. JohnAmbulance, I suppose. She and the mayor and a lot of others. As far as I heard, she had a glass of something and aboutfive minutes later she was took bad and died before you could snap your fingers.”
“What a shocking occurrence,” said Miss Marple. “Did she suffer from heart trouble?”
“Sound as a bell, so they say,” Cherry said. “Of course, you never know, do you? I suppose you can havesomething wrong with your heart and nobody knowing about it. Anyway, I can tell you this. They’ve not sent herhome.”
Miss Marple looked puzzled. “What do you mean, not sent her home?”
“The body,” said Cherry, her cheerfulness unimpaired. “The doctor said there’d have to be an autopsy11. Postmortem—whatever you call it. He said he hadn’t attended her for anything and there was nothing to show the cause of death.
Looks funny to me,” she added.
“Now what do you mean by funny?” said Miss Marple.
“Well.” Cherry considered. “Funny. As though there was something behind it.”
“Is her husband terribly upset?”
“Looks as white as a sheet. Never saw a man as badly hit, to look at—that is to say.”
Miss Marple’s ears, long attuned12 to delicate nuances, led her to cock her head slightly on one side like aninquisitive bird.
“Was he so very devoted14 to her?”
“He did what she told him and gave her her own way,” said Cherry, “but that doesn’t always mean you’re devoted,does it? It may mean you haven’t got the courage to stick up for yourself.”
“You didn’t like her?” asked Miss Marple.
“I hardly know her really,” said Cherry. “Knew her, I mean. I don’t—didn’t—dislike her. But she’s just not mytype. Too interfering.”
“You mean inquisitive13, nosy15?”
“No, I don’t,” said Cherry. “I don’t mean that at all. She was a very kind woman and she was always doing thingsfor people. And she was always quite sure she knew the best thing to do. What they thought about it wouldn’t havemattered. I had an aunt like that. Very fond of seed cake herself and she used to bake seed cakes for people and takethem to them, and she never troubled to find out whether they liked seed cake or not. There are people can’t bear it,just can’t stand the flavour of caraway. Well, Heather Badcock was a bit like that.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully, “yes, she would have been. I knew someone a little like that. Such people,”
she added, “live dangerously—though they don’t know it themselves.”
Cherry stared at her. “That’s a funny thing to say. I don’t quite get what you mean.”
Miss Knight bustled in. “Mrs. Bantry seems to have gone out,” she said. “She didn’t say where she was going.”
“I can guess where she’s going,” said Miss Marple. “She’s coming here. I shall get up now,” she added.
II
Miss Marple had just ensconced herself in her favourite chair by the window when Mrs. Bantry arrived. She wasslightly out of breath.
“I’ve got plenty to tell you, Jane,” she said.
“About the fête?” asked Miss Knight. “You went to the fête yesterday, didn’t you? I was there myself for a shorttime early in the afternoon. The tea tent was very crowded. An astonishing lot of people seemed to be there. I didn’tcatch a glimpse of Marina Gregg, though, which was rather disappointing.”
She flicked16 a little dust off a table and said brightly, “Now I’m sure you two want to have a nice little chattogether,” and went out of the room.
“She doesn’t seem to know anything about it,” said Mrs. Bantry. She fixed17 her friend with a keen glance. “Jane, Ibelieve you do know.”
“You mean about the death yesterday?”
“You always know everything,” said Mrs. Bantry. “I cannot think how.”
“Well, really dear,” said Miss Marple, “in the same way one always has known everything. My daily helper,Cherry Baker18, brought the news. I expect the butcher will be telling Miss Knight presently.”
“And what do you think of it?” said Mrs. Bantry.
“What do I think of what?” said Miss Marple.
“Now don’t be aggravating19, Jane, you know perfectly20 what I mean. There’s this woman—whatever her name is—”
“Heather Badcock,” said Miss Marple.
“She arrives full of life and spirit. I was there when she came. And about a quarter of an hour later she sits down ina chair, says she doesn’t feel well, gasps21 a bit and dies. What do you think of that?”
“One mustn’t jump to conclusions,” said Miss Marple. “The point is, of course, what did a medical man think ofit?”
Mrs. Bantry nodded. “There’s to be an inquest and a postmortem,” she said. “That shows what they think of it,doesn’t it?”
“Not necessarily,” said Miss Marple. “Anyone may be taken ill and die suddenly and they have to have apostmortem to find out the cause.”
“It’s more than that,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“How do you know?” said Miss Marple.
“Dr. Sandford went home and rang up the police.”
“Who told you that?” said Miss Marple, with great interest.
“Old Briggs,” said Mrs. Bantry. “At least, he didn’t tell me. You know he goes down after hours in the evening tosee to Dr. Sandford’s garden, and he was clipping something quite close to the study and he heard the doctor ringingup the police station in Much Benham. Briggs told his daughter and his daughter mentioned it to the postwoman andshe told me,” said Mrs. Bantry.
Miss Marple smiled. “I see,” she said, “that St. Mary Mead22 has not changed very much from what it used to be.”
“The grapevine is much the same,” agreed Mrs. Bantry. “Well, now, Jane, tell me what you think.”
“One thinks, of course, of the husband,” said Miss Marple reflectively. “Was he there?”
“Yes, he was there. You don’t think it would be suicide,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“Certainly not suicide,” said Miss Marple decisively. “She wasn’t the type.”
“How did you come across her, Jane?”
“It was the day I went for a walk to the Development, and fell down near her house. She was kindness itself. Shewas a very kind woman.”
“Did you see the husband? Did he look as though he’d like to poison her?
“You know what I mean,” Mrs. Bantry went on as Miss Marple showed some slight signs of protesting. “Did heremind you of Major Smith or Bertie Jones or someone you’ve known years ago who did poison a wife, or tried to?”
“No,” said Miss Marple, “he didn’t remind me of anyone I know.” She added, “But she did.”
“Who—Mrs. Badcock?”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple, “she reminded me of someone called Alison Wilde.”
“And what was Alison Wilde like?”
“She didn’t know at all,” said Miss Marple slowly, “what the world was like. She didn’t know what people werelike. She’d never thought about them. And so, you see, she couldn’t guard against things happening to her.”
“I don’t really think I understand a word of what you’re saying,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“It’s very difficult to explain exactly,” said Miss Marple, apologetically. “It comes really from being self-centred,and I don’t mean selfish by that,” she added. “You can be kind and unselfish and even thoughtful. But if you’re likeAlison Wilde, you never really know what you may be doing. And so you never know what may happen to you.”
“Can’t you make that a little clearer?” said Mrs. Bantry.
“Well, I suppose I could give you a sort of figurative example. This isn’t anything that actually happened, it’s justsomething I’m inventing.”
“Go on,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“Well, supposing you went into a shop, say, and you knew the proprietress had a son who was the spivvy youngjuvenile delinquent23 type. He was there listening while you told his mother about some money you had in the house, orsome silver or a piece of jewellery. It was something you were excited and pleased about and you wanted to talk aboutit. And you also perhaps mention an evening that you were going out. You even say that you never lock the house.
You’re interested in what you’re saying, what you’re telling her, because it’s so very much in your mind. And then,say, on that particular evening you come home because you’ve forgotten something and there’s this bad lot of a boy inthe house, caught in the act, and he turns round and coshes you.”
“That might happen to almost anybody nowadays,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“Not quite,” said Miss Marple, “most people have a sense of protection. They realise when it’s unwise to say or dosomething because of the person or persons who are taking in what you say, and because of the kind of character thatthose people have. But as I say, Alison Wilde never thought of anybody else but herself— She was the sort of personwho tells you what they’ve done and what they’ve seen and what they’ve felt and what they’ve heard. They nevermention what any other people said or did. Life is a kind of one-way track—just their own progress through it. Otherpeople seem to them just like—like wallpaper in a room.” She paused and then said, “I think Heather Badcock wasthat kind of person.”
Mrs. Bantry said, “You think she was the sort of person who might have butted24 into something without knowingwhat she was doing?”
“And without realising that it was a dangerous thing to do,” said Miss Marple. She added, “It’s the only reason Ican possibly think of why she should have been killed. If of course,” added Miss Marple, “we are right in assumingthat murder has been committed.”
“You don’t think she was blackmailing25 someone?” Mrs. Bantry suggested.
“Oh, no,” Miss Marple assured her. “She was a kind, good woman. She’d never have done anything of that kind.”
She added vexedly, “The whole thing seems to me very unlikely. I suppose it can’t have been—”
“Well?” Mrs. Bantry urged her.
“I just wondered if it might have been the wrong murder,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully.
The door opened and Dr. Haydock breezed in, Miss Knight twittering behind him.
“Ah, at it already, I see,” said Dr. Haydock, looking at the two ladies. “I came in to see how your health was,” hesaid to Miss Marple, “but I needn’t ask. I see you’ve begun to adopt the treatment that I suggested.”
“Treatment, Doctor?”
Dr. Haydock pointed26 a finger at the knitting that lay on the table beside her. “Unravelling,” he said. “I’m right,aren’t I?”
Miss Marple twinkled very slightly in a discreet27, old-fashioned kind of way.
“You will have your joke, Doctor Haydock,” she said.
“You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, my dear lady. I’ve known you too many years. Sudden death at GossingtonHall and all the tongues of St. Mary Mead are wagging. Isn’t that so? Murder suggested long before anybody evenknows the result of the inquest.”
“When is the inquest to be held?” asked Miss Marple.
“The day after tomorrow,” said Dr. Haydock, “and by that time,” he said, “you ladies will have reviewed the wholestory, decided28 on the verdict and decided on a good many other points too, I expect. Well,” he added, “I shan’t wastemy time here. It’s no good wasting time on a patient that doesn’t need my ministrations. Your cheeks are pink, youreyes are bright, you’ve begun to enjoy yourself. Nothing like having an interest in life. I’ll be on my way.” Hestomped out again.
“I’d rather have him than Sandford any day,” said Mrs. Bantry.
“So would I,” said Miss Marple. “He’s a good friend, too,” she added thoughtfully. “He came, I think, to give methe go-ahead sign.”
“Then it was murder,” said Mrs. Bantry. They looked at each other. “At any rate, the doctors think so.”
Miss Knight brought in cups of coffee. For once in their lives, both ladies were too impatient to welcome thisinterruption. When Miss Knight had gone Miss Marple started immediately.
“Now then, Dolly, you were there—”
“I practically saw it happen,” said Mrs. Bantry, with modest pride.
“Splendid,” said Miss Marple. “I mean—well, you know what I mean. So you can tell me just exactly whathappened from the moment she arrived.”
“I’d been taken into the house,” said Mrs. Bantry. “Snob status.”
“Who took you in?”
“Oh, a willowy-looking young man. I think he’s Marina Gregg’s secretary or something like that. He took me in,up the staircase. They were having a kind of reunion reception committee at the top of the stairs.”
“On the landing?” said Miss Marple, surprised.
“Oh, they’ve altered all that. They’ve knocked the dressing29 room and bedroom down so that you’ve got a big sortof alcove30, practically a room. It’s very attractive looking.”
“I see. And who was there?”
“Marina Gregg, being natural and charming, looking lovely in a sort of willowy grey- green dress. And thehusband, of course, and that woman Ella Zielinsky I told you about. She’s their social secretary. And there were about—oh, eight or ten people I should think. Some of them I knew, some of them I didn’t. Some I think were from thestudios—the ones I didn’t know. There was the vicar and Doctor Sandford’s wife. He wasn’t there himself until later,and Colonel and Mrs. Clittering and the High Sheriff. And I think there was someone from the press there. And ayoung woman with a big camera taking photographs.”
Miss Marple nodded.
“Go on.”
“Heather Badcock and her husband arrived just after me. Marina Gregg said nice things to me, then to somebodyelse, oh yes,—the vicar—and then Heather Badcock and her husband came. She’s the secretary, you know, of the St.
John Ambulance. Somebody said something about that and how hard she worked and how valuable she was. AndMarina Gregg said some pretty things. Then Mrs. Badcock, who struck me, I must say, Jane, as rather a tiresome31 sortof woman, began some long rigmarole of how years before she’d met Marina Gregg somewhere. She wasn’t awfullytactful about it since she urged exactly how long ago and the year it was and everything like that. I’m sure thatactresses and film stars and people don’t really like being reminded of the exact age they are. Still, she wouldn’t thinkof that I suppose.”
“No,” said Miss Marple, “she wasn’t the kind of woman who would have thought of that. Well?”
“Well, there was nothing particular in that except for the fact that Marina Gregg didn’t do her usual stuff.”
“You mean she was annoyed?”
“No, no, I don’t mean that. As a matter of fact I’m not at all sure that she heard a word of it. She was staring, youknow, over Mrs. Badcock’s shoulder and when Mrs. Badcock had finished her rather silly story of how she got out ofa bed of sickness and sneaked32 out of the house to go and meet Marina and get her autograph, there was a sort of oddsilence. Then I saw her face.”
“Whose face? Mrs. Badcock’s?”
“No. Marina Gregg’s. It was as though she hadn’t heard a word the Badcock woman was saying. She was staringover her shoulder right at the wall opposite. Staring with—I can’t explain it to you—”
“But do try, Dolly,” said Miss Marple, “because I think perhaps that this might be important.”
“She had a kind of frozen look,” said Mrs. Bantry, struggling with words, “as though she’d seen something that—oh dear me, how hard it is to describe things. Do you remember the Lady of Shalott? The mirror crack’d from side toside: ‘The doom33 has come upon me,’ cried the Lady of Shalott. Well, that’s what she looked like. People laugh atTennyson nowadays, but the Lady of Shalott always thrilled me when I was young and it still does.”
“She had a frozen look,” repeated Miss Marple thoughtfully. “And she was looking over Mrs. Badcock’s shoulderat the wall. What was on the wall?”
“Oh! A picture of some kind, I think,” said Mrs. Bantry. “You know, Italian. I think it was a copy of a BelliniMadonna, but I’m not sure. A picture where the Virgin34 is holding up a laughing child.”
Miss Marple frowned. “I can’t see that a picture could give her that expression.”
“Especially as she must see it every day,” agreed Mrs. Bantry.
“There were people coming up the stairs still, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, there were.”
“Who were they, do you remember?”
“You mean she might have been looking at one of the people coming up the stairs?”
“Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?” said Miss Marple.
“Yes—of course—now let me see. There was the mayor, all dressed up too with his chains and all, and his wife,and there was a man with long hair and one of those funny beards they wear nowadays. Quite a young man. And therewas the girl with the camera. She’d taken her position on the stairs so as to get photos of people coming up and havingtheir hands shaken by Marina, and—let me see, two people I didn’t know. Studio people, I think, and the Grices fromLower Farm. There may have been others, but that’s all I can remember now.”
“Doesn’t sound very promising,” said Miss Marple. “What happened next?”
“I think Jason Rudd nudged her or something because all of a sudden she seemed to pull herself together and shesmiled at Mrs. Badcock, and she began to say all the usual things. You know, sweet, unspoilt, natural, charming, theusual bag of tricks.”
“And then?”
“And then Jason Rudd gave them drinks.”
“What kind of drinks?”
“Daiquiris, I think. He said they were his wife’s favourites. He gave one to her and one to the Badcock woman.”
“That’s very interesting,” said Miss Marple. “Very interesting indeed. And what happened after that?”
“I don’t know, because I took a gaggle of women to look at the bathrooms. The next thing I knew was when thesecretary woman came rushing along and said someone had been taken ill.”
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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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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soothingly
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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bustled
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naval
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emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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autopsy
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attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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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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nosy
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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fixed
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baker
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aggravating
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perfectly
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gasps
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mead
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delinquent
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butted
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blackmailing
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pointed
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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decided
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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alcove
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tiresome
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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doom
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virgin
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