T here was silence for about a minute and a half. Then Miss Marple spoke1.
“How very interesting,” she said conversationally2.
Bess Sedgwick turned on her. “You don’t seem surprised, Miss Marple.”
“I’m not. Not really. There were so many curious things that didn’t seem quite to fit in. It was all too good to betrue—if you know what I mean. What they call in theatrical3 circles, a beautiful performance. But it was a performance—not real.
“And there were a lot of little things, people claiming a friend or an acquaintance—and turning out to be wrong.”
“These things happen,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, “but they happened too often. Is that right, Miss Marple?”
“Yes,” agreed Miss Marple. “People like Selina Hazy4 do make that kind of mistake. But there were so many otherpeople doing it too. One couldn’t help noticing it.”
“She notices a lot,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, speaking to Bess Sedgwick as though Miss Marple was his petperforming dog.
Bess Sedgwick turned on him sharply.
“What did you mean when you said this place was the headquarters of a Crime Syndicate? I should have said thatBertram’s Hotel was the most respectable place in the world.”
“Naturally,” said Father. “It would have to be. A lot of money, time, and thought has been spent on making it justwhat it is. The genuine and the phony are mixed-up very cleverly. You’ve got a superb actor manager running theshow in Henry. You’ve got that chap, Humfries, wonderfully plausible5. He hasn’t got a record in this country but he’sbeen mixed-up in some rather curious hotel dealings abroad. There are some very good character actors playingvarious parts here. I’ll admit, if you like, that I can’t help feeling a good deal of admiration6 for the whole setup. It hascost this country a mint of money. It’s given the CID and the provincial7 police forces constant headaches. Every timewe seemed to be getting somewhere, and put our finger on some particular incident—it turned out to be the kind ofincident that had nothing to do with anything else. But we’ve gone on working on it, a piece there, a piece here. Agarage where stacks of number plates were kept, transferable at a moment’s notice to certain cars. A firm of furniturevans, a butcher’s van, a grocer’s van, even one or two phony postal8 vans. A racing9 driver with a racing car coveringincredible distances in incredibly few minutes, and at the other end of the scale an old clergyman jogging along in hisold Morris Oxford10. A cottage with a market gardener in it who lends first aid if necessary and who is in touch with auseful doctor. I needn’t go into it all. The ramifications11 seem unending. That’s one half of it. The foreign visitors whocome to Bertram’s are the other half. Mostly from America, or from the Dominions12. Rich people above suspicion,coming here with a good lot of luxury luggage, leaving here with a good lot of luxury luggage which looks the samebut isn’t. Rich tourists arriving in France and not worried unduly13 by the Customs because the Customs don’t worrytourists when they’re bringing money into the country. Not the same tourists too many times. The pitcher14 mustn’t goto the well too often. None of it’s going to be easy to prove or to tie up, but it will all tie up in the end. We’ve made abeginning. The Cabots, for instance—”
“What about the Cabots?” asked Bess sharply.
“You remember them? Very nice Americans. Very nice indeed. They stayed here last year and they’ve been hereagain this year. They wouldn’t have come a third time. Nobody ever comes here more than twice on the same racket.
Yes, we arrested them when they arrived at Calais. Very well-made job, that wardrobe case they had with them. It hadover three hundred thousand pounds neatly15 stashed16. Proceeds of the Bedhampton train robbery. Of course, that’s onlya drop in the ocean.
“Bertram’s Hotel, let me tell you, is the headquarters of the whole thing! Half the staff are in on it. Some of theguests are in on it. Some of the guests are who they say they are—some are not. The real Cabots, for instance, are inYucatan just now. Then there was the identification racket. Take Mr. Justice Ludgrove. A familiar face, bulbous noseand a wart17. Quite easy to impersonate. Canon Pennyfather. A mild country clergyman, with a great white thatch18 ofhair and notable absentminded behaviour. His mannerisms, his way of peering over his spectacles—all very easilyimitated by a good character actor.”
“But what was the use of all that?” asked Bess.
“Are you really asking me? Isn’t it obvious? Mr. Justice Ludgrove is seen near the scene of a bank holdup.
Someone recognizes him, mentions it. We go into it. It’s all a mistake. He was somewhere else at the time. But itwasn’t for a while that we realized that these were all what is sometimes called ‘deliberate mistakes.’ Nobody’sbothered about the man who had looked so like him. And doesn’t look particularly like him really. He takes off hismakeup and stops acting19 his part. The whole thing brings about confusion. At one time we had a High Court judge, anArchdeacon, an Admiral, a Major-General, all seen near the scene of a crime.
“After the Bedhampton train robbery at least four vehicles were concerned before the loot arrived in London. Aracing car driven by Malinowski took part in it, a false Metal Box lorry, an old-fashioned Daimler with an admiral init, and an old clergyman with a thatch of white hair in a Morris Oxford. The whole thing was a splendid operation,beautifully planned.
“And then one day the gang had a bit of bad luck. That muddle-headed old ecclesiastic20, Canon Pennyfather, wentoff to catch his plane on the wrong day, they turned him away from the air station, he wandered out into CromwellRoad, went to a film, arrived back here after midnight, came up to his room, of which he had the key in his pocket,opened the door, and walked in to get the shock of his life when he saw what appeared to be himself sitting in a chairfacing him! The last thing the gang expected was to see the real Canon Pennyfather, supposed to be safely in Lucerne,walk in! His double was just getting ready to start off to play his part at Bedhampton when in walked the real man.
They didn’t know what to do but there was a quick reflex action from one member of the party. Humfries, I suspect.
He hit the old man on the head, and he went down unconscious. Somebody, I think, was angry over that. Very angry.
However, they examined the old boy, decided21 he was only knocked out, and would probably come round later andthey went on with their plans. The false Canon Pennyfather left his room, went out of the hotel and drove to the sceneof activities where he was to play his part in the relay race. What they did with the real Canon Pennyfather I don’tknow. I can only guess. I presume he too was moved later that night, driven down in a car, taken to the marketgardener’s cottage which was at a spot not too far from where the train was to be held up and where a doctor couldattend to him. Then, if reports came through about Canon Pennyfather having been seen in the neighbourhood, itwould all fit in. It must have been an anxious moment for all concerned until he regained22 consciousness and theyfound that at least three days had been knocked out of his remembrance.”
“Would they have killed him otherwise?” asked Miss Marple.
“No,” said Father. “I don’t think they would have killed him. Someone wouldn’t have let that happen. It hadseemed very clear all along that whoever ran this show had an objection to murder.”
“It sounds fantastic,” said Bess Sedgwick. “Utterly fantastic! And I don’t believe you have any evidence whateverto link Ladislaus Malinowski with this rigmarole.”
“I’ve got plenty of evidence against Ladislaus Malinowski,” said Father. “He’s careless, you know. He hungaround here when he shouldn’t have. On the first occasion he came to establish connection with your daughter. Theyhad a code arranged.”
“Nonsense. She told you herself that she didn’t know him.”
“She may have told me that but it wasn’t true. She’s in love with him. She wants the fellow to marry her.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“You’re not in a position to know,” Chief-Inspector Davy pointed23 out. “Malinowski isn’t the sort of person whotells all his secrets and your daughter you don’t know at all. You admitted as much. You were angry, weren’t you,when you found out Malinowski had come to Bertram’s Hotel.”
“Why should I be angry?”
“Because you’re the brains of the show,” said Father. “You and Henry. The financial side was run by the Hoffmanbrothers. They made all the arrangements with the Continental24 banks and accounts and that sort of thing, but the bossof the syndicate, the brains that run it, and plan it, are your brains, Lady Sedgwick.”
Bess looked at him and laughed. “I never heard anything so ridiculous!” she said.
“Oh no, it’s not ridiculous at all. You’ve got brains, courage and daring. You’ve tried most things; you thoughtyou’d turn your hand to crime. Plenty of excitement in it, plenty of risk. It wasn’t the money that attracted you, I’dsay, it was the fun of the whole thing. But you wouldn’t stand for murder, or for undue25 violence. There were nokillings, no brutal26 assaults, only nice quiet scientific taps on the head if necessary. You’re a very interesting woman,you know. One of the few really interesting great criminals.”
There was silence for some few minutes. Then Bess Sedgwick rose to her feet.
“I think you must be mad.” She put her hand out to the telephone.
“Going to ring up your solicitor27? Quite the right thing to do before you say too much.”
With a sharp gesture she slammed the receiver back on the hook.
“On second thoughts I hate solicitors…All right. Have it your own way. Yes, I ran this show. You’re quite correctwhen you say it was fun. I loved every minute of it. It was fun scooping28 money from banks, trains and post offices andso-called security vans! It was fun planning and deciding; glorious fun and I’m glad I had it. The pitcher goes to thewell once too often? That’s what you said just now, wasn’t it? I suppose it’s true. Well, I’ve had a good run for mymoney! But you’re wrong about Ladislaus Malinowski shooting Michael Gorman! He didn’t. I did.” She laughed asudden high, excited laugh. “Never mind what it was he did, what he threatened…I told him I’d shoot him—MissMarple heard me—and I did shoot him. I did very much what you suggested Ladislaus did. I hid in that area. WhenElvira passed, I fired one shot wild, and when she screamed and Micky came running down the street, I’d got himwhere I wanted him, and I let him have it! I’ve got keys to all the hotel entrances, of course. I just slipped in throughthe area door and up to my room. It never occurred to me you’d trace the pistol to Ladislaus—or would even suspecthim. I’d pinched it from his car without his knowing. But not, I can assure you, with any idea of throwing suspicion onhim.”
She swept round on Miss Marple. “You’re a witness to what I’ve said, remember. I killed Gorman.”
“Or perhaps you are saying so because you’re in love with Malinowski,” suggested Davy.
“I’m not.” Her retort came sharply. “I’m his good friend, that’s all. Oh yes, we’ve been lovers in a casual kind ofway, but I’m not in love with him. In all my life, I’ve only loved one person—John Sedgwick.” her voice changed andsoftened as she pronounced the name.
“But Ladislaus is my friend. I don’t want him railroaded for something he didn’t do. I killed Michael Gorman. I’vesaid so, and Miss Marple has heard me…And now, dear Chief-Inspector Davy—” her voice rose excitedly, and herlaughter rang out—“catch me if you can.”
With a sweep of her arm, she smashed the window with the heavy telephone set, and before Father could get to hisfeet, she was out of the window and edging her way rapidly along the narrow parapet. With surprising quickness inspite of his bulk, Davy had moved to the other window and flung up the sash. At the same time he blew the whistle hehad taken from his pocket.
Miss Marple, getting to her feet with rather more difficulty a moment or two later, joined him. Together they staredout along the fa?ade of Bertram’s Hotel.
“She’ll fall. She’s climbing up a drainpipe,” Miss Marple exclaimed. “But why up?”
“Going to the roof. It’s her only chance and she knows it. Good God, look at her. Climbs like a cat. She looks like afly on the side of the wall. The risks she’s taking!”
Miss Marple murmured, her eyes half closing, “She’ll fall. She can’t do it….”
The woman they were watching disappeared from sight. Father drew back a little into the room.
Miss Marple asked:
“Don’t you want to go and—”
Father shook his head. “What good am I with my bulk? I’ve got my men posted ready for something like this. Theyknow what to do. In a few minutes we shall know…I wouldn’t put it past her to beat the lot of them! She’s a woman ina thousand, you know.” He sighed. “One of the wild ones. Oh, we’ve some of them in every generation. You can’ttame them, you can’t bring them into the community and make them live in law and order. They go their own way. Ifthey’re saints they go and tend lepers or something, or get themselves martyred in jungles. If they’re bad lots theycommit the atrocities30 that you don’t like hearing about: and sometimes—they’re just wild! They’d have been all right,I suppose, born in another age when it was everyone’s hand for himself, everyone fighting to keep life in their veins31.
Hazards at every turn, danger all round them, and they themselves perforce dangerous to others. That world wouldhave suited them; they’d have been at home in it. This one doesn’t.”
“Did you know what she was going to do?”
“Not really. That’s one of her gifts. The unexpected. She must have thought this out, you know. She knew whatwas coming. So she sat looking at us—keeping the ball rolling—and thinking. Thinking and planning hard. I expect—ah—” He broke off as there came the sudden roar of a car’s exhaust, the screaming of wheels, and the sound of a bigracing engine. He leaned out. “She’s made it, she’s got to her car.”
There was more screaming as the car came round the corner on two wheels, a great roar, and the beautiful whitemonster came tearing up the street.
“She’ll kill someone,” said Father, “she’ll kill a lot of people…even if she doesn’t kill herself.”
“I wonder,” said Miss Marple.
“She’s a good driver, of course. A damn good driver. Whoof, that was a near one!”
They heard the roar of the car racing away with the horn blaring, heard it grow fainter. Heard cries, shouts, thesound of brakes, cars hooting29 and pulling up and finally a great scream of tyres and a roaring exhaust and—“She’s crashed,” said Father.
He stood there very quietly waiting with the patience that was characteristic of his whole big patient form. MissMarple stood silent beside him. Then, like a relay race, word came down along the street. A man on the pavementopposite looked up at Chief-Inspector Davy and made rapid signs with his hands.
“She’s had it,” said Father heavily. “Dead! Went about ninety miles an hour into the park railings. No othercasualties bar a few slight collisions. Magnificent driving. Yes, she’s dead.” He turned back into the room and saidheavily, “Well, she told her story first. You heard her.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “I heard her.” There was a pause. “It wasn’t true, of course,” said Miss Marple quietly.
Father looked at her. “You didn’t believe her, eh?”
“Did you?”
“No,” said Father. “No, it wasn’t the right story. She thought it out so that it would meet the case exactly, but itwasn’t true. She didn’t shoot Michael Gorman. D’you happen to know who did?”
“Of course I know,” said Miss Marple. “The girl.”
“Ah! When did you begin to think that?”
“I always wondered,” said Miss Marple.
“So did I,” said Father. “She was full of fear that night. And the lies she told were poor lies. But I couldn’t see amotive at first.”
“That puzzled me,” said Miss Marple. “She had found out her mother’s marriage was bigamous, but would a girldo murder for that? Not nowadays! I suppose there was a money side to it?”
“Yes, it was money,” said Chief-Inspector Davy. “Her father left her a colossal32 fortune. When she found out thather mother was married to Michael Gorman she realized that the marriage to Coniston hadn’t been legal. She thoughtthat meant that the money wouldn’t come to her because, though she was his daughter, she wasn’t legitimate33. She waswrong, you know. We had a case something like that before. Depends on the terms of a will. Coniston left it quiteclearly to her, naming her by name. She’d get it all right, but she didn’t know that. And she wasn’t going to let go ofthe cash.”
“Why did she need it so badly?”
Chief-Inspector Davy said grimly, “To buy Ladislaus Malinowski. He would have married her for her money. Hewouldn’t have married her without it. She wasn’t a fool, that girl. She knew that. But she wanted him on any terms.
She was desperately34 in love with him.”
“I know,” said Miss Marple. She explained: “I saw her face that day in Battersea Park….”
“She knew that with the money she’d get him, and without the money she’d lose him,” said Father. “And so sheplanned a cold-blooded murder. She didn’t hide in the area, of course. There was nobody in the area. She just stood bythe railings and fired a shot and screamed, and when Michael Gorman came racing down the street from the hotel, sheshot him at close quarters. Then she went on screaming. She was a cool hand. She’d no idea of incriminating youngLadislaus. She pinched his pistol because it was the only way she could get hold of one easily; and she never dreamedthat he would be suspected of the crime, or that he would be anywhere in the neighbourhood that night. She thought itwould be put down to some thug taking advantage of the fog. Yes, she was a cool hand. But she was afraid that night—afterwards! And her mother was afraid for her….”
“And now—what will you do?”
“I know she did it,” said Father, “but I’ve no evidence. Maybe she’ll have beginner’s luck…Even the law seems togo on the principle now of allowing a dog to have one bite—translated into human terms. An experienced counselcould make great play with the sob35 stuff—so young a girl, unfortunate upbringing—and she’s beautiful, you know.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “The children of Lucifer are often beautiful—And as we know, they flourish like thegreen bay tree.”
“But as I tell you, it probably won’t even come to that—there’s no evidence—take yourself—you’ll be called as awitness—a witness to what her mother said—to her mother’s confession36 of the crime.”
“I know,” said Miss Marple. “She impressed it on me, didn’t she? She chose death for herself, at the price of herdaughter going free. She forced it on me as a dying request….”
The connecting door to the bedroom opened. Elvira Blake came through. She was wearing a straight shift dress ofpale blue. Her fair hair fell down each side of her face. She looked like one of the angels in an early primitive37 Italianpainting. She looked from one to the other of them. She said:
“I heard a car and a crash and people shouting…Has there been an accident?”
“I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Blake,” said Chief-Inspector Davy formally, “that your mother is dead.”
Elvira gave a little gasp38. “Oh no,” she said. It was a faint uncertain protest.
“Before she made her escape,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, “because it was an escape—she confessed to the murderof Michael Gorman.”
“You mean—she said—that it was she—”
“Yes,” said Father. “That is what she said. Have you anything to add?”
Elvira looked for a long time at him. Very faintly she shook her head.
“No,” she said, “I haven’t anything to add.”
Then she turned and went out of the room.
“Well,” said Miss Marple. “Are you going to let her get away with it?”
There was a pause, then Father brought down his fist with a crash on the table.
“No,” he roared—“No, by God I’m not!”
Miss Marple nodded her head slowly and gravely.
“May God have mercy on her soul,” she said.
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收听单词发音
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1
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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conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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postal
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| adj.邮政的，邮局的 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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ramifications
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| n.结果，后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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16
stashed
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| v.贮藏( stash的过去式和过去分词 )；隐藏；藏匿；藏起 | |
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wart
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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thatch
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| vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部；n.茅草(屋) | |
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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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ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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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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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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28
scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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29
hooting
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的现在分词 )； 倒好儿； 倒彩 | |
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atrocities
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| n.邪恶，暴行( atrocity的名词复数 )；滔天大罪 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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32
colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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35
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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