M rs. McCrae, Canon Pennyfather’s housekeeper1, had ordered a Dover sole for the evening of his return. Theadvantages attached to a good Dover sole were manifold. It need not be introduced to the grill2 or frying pan until theCanon was safely in the house. It could be kept until the next day if necessary. Canon Pennyfather was fond of Doversole; and, if a telephone call or telegram arrived saying that the Canon would after all be elsewhere on this particularevening, Mrs. McCrae was fond of a good Dover sole herself. All therefore was in good trim for the Canon’s return.
The Dover sole would be followed by pancakes. The sole sat on the kitchen table, the batter3 for the pancakes wasready in a bowl. All was in readiness. The brass4 shone, the silver sparkled, not a minuscule5 of dust showed anywhere.
There was only one thing lacking. The Canon himself.
The Canon was scheduled to return on the train arriving at 6:30 from London.
At 7 o’clock he had not returned. No doubt the train was late. At 7:30 he still had not returned. Mrs. McCrae gave asigh of vexation. She suspected that this was going to be another of these things. Eight o’clock came and no Canon.
Mrs. McCrae gave a long, exasperated6 sigh. Soon, no doubt, she would get a telephone call, though it was quite withinthe bounds of possibility that there would not be even a telephone call. He might have written to her. No doubt he hadwritten, but he had probably omitted to post the letter.
“Dear, dear!” said Mrs. McCrae.
At 9 o’clock she made herself three pancakes with the pancake batter. The sole she put carefully away in theFrigidaire. “I wonder where the good man’s got to now,” she said to herself. She knew by experience that he might beanywhere. The odds8 were that he would discover his mistake in time to telegraph her or telephone her before sheretired to bed. “I shall sit up until 11 o’clock but no longer,” said Mrs. McCrae. Ten thirty was her bedtime, anextension to eleven she considered her duty, but if at eleven there was nothing, no word from the Canon, then Mrs.
McCrae would duly lock up the house and betake herself to bed.
It cannot be said that she was worried. This sort of thing had happened before. There was nothing to be done butwait for news of some kind. The possibilities were numerous. Canon Pennyfather might have got on the wrong trainand failed to discover his mistake until he was at Land’s End or John o’ Groats, or he might still be in London havingmade some mistake in the date, and was therefore convinced he was not returning until tomorrow. He might have meta friend or friends at this foreign conference he was going to and been induced to stay out there perhaps over theweekend. He would have meant to let her know but had entirely9 forgotten to do so. So, as has been already said, shewas not worried. The day after tomorrow his old friend, Archdeacon Simmons, was coming to stay. That was the sortof thing the Canon did remember, so no doubt he himself or a telegram from him would arrive tomorrow and at latesthe would be home on the day after, or there would be a letter.
The morning of the day after, however, arrived without a word from him. For the first time Mrs. McCrae began tobe uneasy. Between 9 a.m. and 1 p.m. she eyed the telephone in a doubtful manner. Mrs. McCrae had her own fixedviews about the telephone. She used it and recognized its convenience but she was not fond of the telephone. Some ofher household shopping was done by telephone, though she much preferred to do it in person owing to a fixed10 beliefthat if you did not see what you were being given, a shopkeeper was sure to try and cheat you. Still, telephones wereuseful for domestic matters. She occasionally, though rarely, telephoned her friends or relations in the nearneighbourhood. To make a call of any distance, or a London call, upset her severely11. It was a shameful12 waste ofmoney. Nevertheless, she began to meditate13 facing that problem.
Finally, when yet another day dawned without any news of him, she decided14 to act. She knew where the Canonwas staying in London. Bertram’s Hotel. A nice old-fashioned place. It might be as well, perhaps, if she rang up andmade certain inquiries15. They would probably know where the Canon was. It was not an ordinary hotel. She wouldasked to be put through to Miss Gorringe. Miss Gorringe was always efficient and thoughtful. The Canon might, ofcourse, return by the twelve thirty. If so he would be here any minute now.
But the minutes passed and there was no Canon. Mrs. McCrae took a deep breath, nerved herself and asked for acall to London. She waited, biting her lips and holding the receiver clamped firmly to her ear.
“Bertram’s Hotel, at your service,” said a voice.
“I would like, if you please, to speak to Miss Gorringe,” said Mrs. McCrae.
“Just a moment. What name shall I say?”
“It’s Canon Pennyfather’s housekeeper. Mrs. McCrae.”
“Just a moment please.”
Presently the calm and efficient voice of Miss Gorringe came through.
“Miss Gorringe here. Did you say Canon Pennyfather’s housekeeper?”
“That’s right. Mrs. McCrae.”
“Oh yes. Of course. What can I do for you, Mrs. McCrae?”
“Is Canon Pennyfather staying at the hotel still?”
“I’m glad you’ve rung up,” said Miss Gorringe. “We have been rather worried as to what exactly to do.”
“Do you mean something’s happened to Canon Pennyfather? Has he had an accident?”
“No, no, nothing of that kind. But we expected him back from Lucerne on Friday or Saturday.”
“Eh—that’d be right.”
“But he didn’t arrive. Well, of course that wasn’t really surprising. He had booked his room on—booked it, that is,until yesterday. He didn’t come back yesterday or send any word and his things are still here. The major part of hisbaggage. We hadn’t been quite sure what to do about it. Of course,” Miss Gorringe went on hastily, “we know theCanon is, well—somewhat forgetful sometimes.”
“You may well say that!”
“It makes it a little difficult for us. We are so fully7 booked up. His room is actually booked for another guest.” Sheadded: “You have no idea where he is?”
With bitterness Mrs. McCrae said:
“The man might be anywhere!” She pulled herself together. “Well, thank you, Miss Gorringe.”
“Anything I can do—” Miss Gorringe suggested helpfully.
“I dare say I’ll hear soon enough,” said Mrs. McCrae. She thanked Miss Gorringe again and rang off.
She sat by the telephone, looking upset. She did not fear for the Canon’s personal safety. If he had had an accidentshe would by now have been notified. She felt sure of that. On the whole the Canon was not what one could callaccident prone16. He was what Mrs. McCrae called to herself “one of the scatty ones,” and the scatty ones seemedalways to be looked after by a special providence17. Whilst taking no care or thought, they could still survive even aPanda crossing. No, she did not visualize18 Canon Pennyfather as lying groaning19 in a hospital. He was somewhere, nodoubt innocently and happily prattling20 with some friend or other. Maybe he was abroad still. The difficulty was thatArchdeacon Simmons was arriving this evening and Archdeacon Simmons would expect to find a host to receive him.
She couldn’t put Archdeacon Simmons off because she didn’t know where he was. It was all very difficult, but it had,like most difficulties, its bright spot. Its bright spot was Archdeacon Simmons. Archdeacon Simmons would knowwhat to do. She would place the matter in his hands.
Archdeacon Simmons was a complete contrast to her employer. He knew where he was going, and what he wasdoing, and was always cheerfully sure of knowing the right thing to be done and doing it. A confident cleric.
Archdeacon Simmons, when he arrived, to be met by Mrs. McCrae’s explanations, apologies and perturbation, was atower of strength. He, too, was not alarmed.
“Now don’t you worry, Mrs. McCrae,” he said in his genial21 fashion, as he sat down to the meal she had preparedfor his arrival. “We’ll hunt the absentminded fellow down. Ever heard that story about Chesterton? G. K. Chesterton,you know, the writer. Wired to his wife when he’d gone on a lecture tour ‘Am at Crewe Station. Where ought I tobe?’”
He laughed. Mrs. McCrae smiled dutifully. She did not think it was very funny because it was so exactly the sort ofthing that Canon Pennyfather might have done.
“Ah,” said Archdeacon Simmons, with appreciation22, “one of your excellent veal23 cutlets! You’re a marvellous cook,Mrs. McCrae. I hope my old friend appreciates you.”
Veal cutlets having been succeeded by some small castle puddings with a blackberry sauce which Mrs. McCraehad remembered was one of the Archdeacon’s favourite sweets, the good man applied24 himself in earnest to thetracking down of his missing friend. He addressed himself to the telephone with vigour25 and a complete disregard forexpense, which made Mrs. McCrae purse her lips anxiously, although not really disapproving26, because definitely hermaster had got to be tracked down.
Having first dutifully tried the Canon’s sister who took little notice of her brother’s goings and comings and asusual had not the faintest idea where he was or might be, the Archdeacon spread his net farther afield. He addressedhimself once more to Bertram’s Hotel and got details as precisely27 as possible. The Canon had definitely left there onthe early evening of the 19th. he had with him a small BEA handbag, but his other luggage had remained behind in hisroom, which he had duly retained. He had mentioned that he was going to a conference of some kind at Lucerne. Hehad not gone direct to the airport from the hotel. The commissionaire, who knew him well by sight, had put him into ataxi and had directed it as told by the Canon, to the Athenaeum Club. That was the last time that anyone at Bertram’sHotel had seen Canon Pennyfather. Oh yes, a small detail—he had omitted to leave his key behind but had taken itwith him. It was not the first time that that had happened.
Archdeacon Simmons paused for a few minutes” consideration before the next call. He could ring up the air stationin London. That would no doubt take some time. There might be a short cut. He rang up Dr. Weissgarten, a learnedHebrew scholar who was almost certain to have been at the conference.
Dr. Weissgarten was at his home. As soon as he heard who was speaking to him he launched out into a torrent28 ofverbiage consisting mostly of disparaging29 criticism of two papers that had been read at the conference in Lucerne.
“Most unsound, that fellow Hogarov,” he said, “most unsound. How he gets away with it I don’t know! Fellowisn’t a scholar at all. Do you know what he actually said?”
The Archdeacon sighed and had to be firm with him. Otherwise there was a good chance that the rest of theevening would be spent in listening to criticism of fellow scholars at the Lucerne Conference. With some reluctanceDr. Weissgarten was pinned down to more personal matters.
“Pennyfather?” he said. “Pennyfather? He ought to have been there. Can’t think why he wasn’t there. Said he wasgoing. Told me so only a week before when I saw him in the Athenaeum.”
“You mean he wasn’t at the conference at all?”
“That’s what I’ve just said. He ought to have been there.”
“Do you know why he wasn’t there? Did he send an excuse?”
“How should I know? He certainly talked about being there. Yes, now I remember. He was expected. Severalpeople remarked on his absence. Thought he might have had a chill or something. Very treacherous30 weather.” He wasabout to revert31 to his criticisms of his fellow scholars but Archdeacon Simmons rang off.
He had got a fact but it was a fact that for the first time awoke in him an uneasy feeling. Canon Pennyfather had notbeen at the Lucerne Conference. He had meant to go to that conference. It seemed very extraordinary to theArchdeacon that he had not been there. He might, of course, have taken the wrong plane, though on the whole BEAwere pretty careful of you and shepherded you away from such possibilities. Could Canon Pennyfather have forgottenthe actual day that he was going to the conference? It was always possible, he supposed. But if so where had he goneinstead?
He addressed himself now to the air terminal. It involved a great deal of patient waiting and being transferred fromdepartment to department. In the end he got a definite fact. Canon Pennyfather had booked as a passenger on the 21:40plane to Lucerne on the 18th but he had not been on the plane.
“We’re getting on,” said Archdeacon Simmons to Mrs. McCrae, who was hovering32 in the background. “Now, letme see. Who shall I try next?”
“All this telephoning will cost a fearful lot of money,” said Mrs. McCrae.
“I’m afraid so. I’m afraid so,” said Archdeacon Simmons. “But we’ve got to get on his track, you know. He’s not avery young man.”
“Oh, sir, you don’t think there’s anything could really have happened to him?”
“Well, I hope not…I don’t think so, because I think you’d have heard if so. He—er—always had his name andaddress on him, didn’t he?”
“Oh yes, sir, he had cards on him. He’d have letters too, and all sorts of things in his wallet.”
“Well, I don’t think he’s in a hospital then,” said the Archdeacon. “Let me see. When he left the hotel he took ataxi to the Athenaeum. I’ll ring them up next.”
Here he got some definite information. Canon Pennyfather, who was well known there, had dined there at seventhirty on the evening of the 19th. It was then that the Archdeacon was struck by something he had overlooked untilthen. The aeroplane ticket had been for the 18th but the Canon had left Bertram’s Hotel by taxi to the Athenaeum,having mentioned he was going to the Lucerne Conference, on the 19th. Light began to break. “Silly old ass,” thoughtArchdeacon Simmons to himself, but careful not to say it aloud in front of Mrs. McCrae. “Got his dates wrong. Theconference was on the 19th. I’m sure of it. He must have thought that he was leaving on the 18th. He was one daywrong.”
He went over the next bit carefully. The Canon would have gone to the Athenaeum, he would have dined, he wouldhave gone on to Kensington Air Station. There, no doubt, it would have been pointed33 out to him that his ticket was forthe day before and he would then have realized that the conference he was going to attend was now over.
“That’s what happened,” said Archdeacon Simmons, “depend upon it.” He explained it to Mrs. McCrae, whoagreed that it was likely enough. “Then what would he do?”
“Go back to his hotel,” said Mrs. McCrae.
“He wouldn’t have come straight down here—gone straight to the station, I mean.”
“Not if his luggage was at the hotel. At any rate, he would have called there for his luggage.”
“True enough,” said Simmons. “All right. We’ll think of it like this. He left the airport with his little bag and hewent back to the hotel, or started for the hotel at all events. He might have had dinner perhaps—no, he’d dined at theAthenaeum. All right, he went back to the hotel. But he never arrived there.” He paused a moment or two and thensaid doubtfully, “Or did he? Nobody seems to have seen him there. So what happened to him on the way?”
“He could have met someone,” said Mrs. McCrae, doubtfully.
“Yes. Of course that’s perfectly34 possible. Some old friend he hadn’t seen for a long time…He could have gone offwith a friend to the friend’s hotel or the friend’s house, but he wouldn’t have stayed there three days, would he? Hecouldn’t have forgotten for three whole days that his luggage was at the hotel. He’d have rung up about it, he’d havecalled for it, or in a supreme35 fit of absentmindedness he might have come straight home. Three days’ silence. That’swhat’s so inexplicable36.”
“If he had an accident—”
“Yes, Mrs. McCrae, of course that’s possible. We can try the hospitals. You say he had plenty of papers on him toidentify him? Hm—I think there’s only one thing for it.”
Mrs. McCrae looked at him apprehensively37.
“I think, you know,” said the Archdeacon gently, “that we’ve got to go to the police.”
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收听单词发音
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1
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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2
grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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minuscule
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| adj.非常小的；极不重要的 | |
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6
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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7
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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8
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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9
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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13
meditate
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| v.想，考虑，（尤指宗教上的）沉思，冥想 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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15
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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16
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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17
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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18
visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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19
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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20
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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22
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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23
veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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disparaging
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| adj.轻蔑的，毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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32
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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