INSTRUCTIONS FROM BEYOND
II t was some three or four days later that a communication arrived by the second post. Miss Marple picked up theletter, did what she usually did to letters, turned it over, looked at the stamp, looked at the handwriting, decided1 that itwasn’t a bill and opened it. It was typewritten.
“Dear Miss Marple,
By the time you read this I shall be dead and also buried. Not cremated2, I am glad to think. It has alwaysseemed to me unlikely that one would manage to rise up from one’s handsome bronze vase full of ashes andhaunt anyone if one wanted so to do! Whereas the idea of rising from one’s grave and haunting anyone is quitepossible. Shall I want to do that? Who knows. I might even want to communicate with you.
By now my solicitors3 will have communicated with you and will have put a certain proposition before you. Ihope you will have accepted it. If you have not accepted it, don’t feel in the least remorseful4. It will be yourchoice.
This should reach you, if my solicitors have done what they were told to do, and if the posts have done theduty they are expected to perform, on the 11th of the month. In two days from now you will receive acommunication from a travel bureau in London. I hope what it proposes will not be distasteful to you. I needn’tsay more. I want you to have an open mind. Take care of yourself. I think you will manage to do that. You are avery shrewd person. The best of luck and may your guardian5 angel be at your side looking after you. You mayneed one.
Your affectionate friend,
J. B. Rafiel.”
“Two days!” said Miss Marple.
She found it difficult to pass the time. The Post Office did their duty and so did the Famous Houses and Gardens ofGreat Britain.
“Dear Miss Jane Marple,
Obeying instructions given us by the late Mr. Rafiel we send you particulars of our Tour No. 37 of theFamous Houses and Gardens of Great Britain which starts from London on Thursday next—the 17th.
If it should be possible for you to come to our office in London, our Mrs. Sandbourne who is to accompanythe tour, will be very glad to give you all particulars and to answer all questions.
Our tours last for a period of two to three weeks. This particular tour, Mr. Rafiel thinks, will be particularlyacceptable to you as it will visit a part of England which as far as he knows you have not yet visited, and takes insome really very attractive scenery and gardens. He has arranged for you to have the best accommodation andall the luxury available that we can provide.
Perhaps you will let us know which day would suit you to visit our office in Berkeley Street?”
Miss Marple folded up the letter, put it in her bag, noted6 the telephone number, thought of a few friends whom sheknew, rang up two of them, one of whom had been for tours with the Famous Houses and Gardens, and spoke7 highlyof them, the other one had not been personally on a tour but had friends who had travelled with this particular firm andwho said everything was very well done, though rather expensive, and not too exhausting for the elderly. She thenrang up the Berkeley Street number and said she would call upon them on the following Tuesday.
The next day she spoke to Cherry on the subject.
“I may be going away, Cherry,” she said. “On a Tour.”
“A Tour?” said Cherry. “One of these travel tours? You mean a package tour abroad?”
“Not abroad. In this country,” said Miss Marple. “Mainly visiting historic buildings and gardens.”
“Do you think it’s all right to do that at your age? These things can be very tiring, you know. You have to walkmiles sometimes.”
“My health is really very good,” said Miss Marple, “and I have always heard that in these tours they are careful toprovide restful intervals8 for such people who are not particularly strong.”
“Well, be careful of yourself, that’s all,” said Cherry. “We don’t want you falling down with a heart attack, even ifyou are looking at a particularly sumptuous9 fountain or something. You’re a bit old, you know, to do this sort of thing.
Excuse me saying it, it sounds rude, but I don’t like to think of you passing out because you’ve done too much oranything like that.”
“I can take care of myself,” said Miss Marple, with some dignity.
“All right, but you just be careful,” said Cherry.
Miss Marple packed a suitcase bag, went to London, booked a room at a modest hotel—(“Ah, Bertram’s Hotel,”
she thought in her mind, “what a wonderful hotel that was! Oh dear, I must forget all those things, the St. George isquite a pleasant place.”) At the appointed time she was at Berkeley Street and was shown in to the office where apleasant woman of about thirty-five rose to meet her, explained that her name was Mrs. Sandbourne and that shewould be in personal charge of this particular tour.
“Am I to understand,” said Miss Marple, “that this trip is in my case—” she hesitated.
Mrs. Sandbourne, sensing slight embarrassment10, said:
“Oh yes, I ought to have explained perhaps better in the letter we sent you. Mr. Rafiel has paid all expenses.”
“You do know that he is dead?” said Miss Marple.
“Oh yes, but this was arranged before his death. He mentioned that he was in ill health but wanted to provide atreat for a very old friend of his who had not had the opportunity of travelling as much as she could have wished.”
II
Two days later, Miss Marple, carrying her small overnight bag, her new and smart suitcase surrendered to the driver,had boarded a most comfortable and luxurious11 coach which was taking a north-westerly route out of London; she wasstudying the passenger list which was attached to the inside of a handsome brochure giving details of the dailyitinerary of the coach, and various information as to hotels and meals, places to be seen, and occasional alternatives onsome days which, although the fact was not stressed, actually intimated that one choice of itinerary12 was for the youngand active and that the other choice would be peculiarly suitable for the elderly, those whose feet hurt them, whosuffered from arthritis14 or rheumatism15 and who would prefer to sit about and not walk long distances or up too manyhills. It was all very tactful and well arranged.
Miss Marple read the passenger list and surveyed her fellow passengers. There was no difficulty about doing thisbecause the other fellow passengers were doing much the same themselves. They were surveying her, amongst others,but nobody as far as Miss Marple could notice was taking any particular interest in her.
Mrs. Riseley-Porter
Miss Joanna Crawford
Colonel and Mrs. Walker
Mr. and Mrs. H. T. Butler
Miss Elizabeth Temple
Professor Wanstead
Mr. Richard Jameson
Miss Lumley
Miss Bentham
Mr. Casper
Miss Cooke
Miss Barrow
Mr. Emlyn Price
Miss Jane Marple
There were four elderly ladies. Miss Marple took note of them first so, as it were, to clear them out of the way. Twowere travelling together. Miss Marple put them down as about seventy. They could roughly be considered ascontemporaries of her own. One of them was very definitely the complaining type, one who would want to have seatsat the front of the coach or else would make a point of having them at the back of the coach. Would wish to sit on thesunny-side or could only bear to sit on the shady side. Who would want more fresh air, or less fresh air. They had withthem travelling rugs and knitted scarves and quite an assortment16 of guidebooks. They were slightly crippled and oftenin pain from feet or backs or knees but were nevertheless of those whom age and ailments17 could not prevent fromenjoying life while they still had it. Old pussies18, but definitely not stay-at-home old pussies. Miss Marple made anentry in the little book she carried.
Fifteen passengers not including herself, or Mrs. Sandbourne. And since she had been sent on this coach tour, oneat least of those fifteen passengers must be of importance in some way. Either as a source of information or someoneconcerned with the law or a law case, or it might even be a murderer. A murderer who might have already killed orone who might be preparing to kill. Anything was possible, Miss Marple thought, with Mr. Rafiel! Anyway, she mustmake notes of these people.
On the right-hand page of her notebook, she would note down who might be worthy19 of attention from Mr. Rafiel’spoint of view and on the left she would note down or cross off those who could only be of any interest if they couldproduce some useful information for her. Information, it might be, that they did not even know they possessed20. Orrather that even if they possessed it, they did not know it could possibly be useful to her or to Mr. Rafiel or to the lawor to Justice with a capital “J.” At the back of her little book, she might this evening make a note or two as to whetheranyone had reminded her of characters she had known in the past at St. Mary Mead21 and other places. Any similaritiesmight make a useful pointer. It had done so on other occasions.
The other two elderly ladies were apparently22 separate travellers. Both of them were about sixty. One was a well-preserved, well-dressed woman of obvious social importance in her own mind, but probably in other people’s mindsas well. Her voice was loud and dictatorial23. She appeared to have in tow a niece, a girl of about eighteen or nineteenwho addressed her as Aunt Geraldine. The niece, Miss Marple noted, was obviously well accustomed to coping withAunt Geraldine’s bossiness24. She was a competent girl as well as being an attractive one.
Across the aisle25 from Miss Marple was a big man with square shoulders and a clumsy-looking body, looking asthough he had been carelessly assembled by an ambitious child out of chunky bricks. His face looked as though naturehad planned it to be round but the face had rebelled at this and decided to achieve a square effect by developing apowerful jaw26. He had a thick head of greyish hair and enormous bushy eyebrows27 which moved up and down to givepoint to what he was saying. His remarks seemed mainly to come out in a series of barks as though he was a talkativesheepdog. He shared his seat with a tall dark foreigner who moved restlessly in his seat and gesticulated freely. Hespoke a most peculiar13 English, making occasional remarks in French and German. The bulky man seemed quitecapable of meeting these onslaughts of foreign language, and shifted obligingly to either French or German. Taking aquick glance at them again, Miss Marple decided that the bushy eyebrows must be Professor Wanstead and theexcitable foreigner was Mr. Caspar.
She wondered what it was they were discussing with such animation28, but was baffled by the rapidity and force ofMr. Caspar’s delivery.
The seat in front of them was occupied by the other woman of about sixty, a tall woman, possibly over sixty, but awoman who would have stood out in a crowd anywhere. She was still a very handsome woman with dark grey haircoiled high on her head, drawn29 back from a fine forehead. She had a low, clear, incisive30 voice. A personality, MissMarple thought. Someone! Yes, she was decidedly someone. “Reminds me,” she thought to herself, “of Dame31 EmilyWaldron.” Dame Emily Waldron had been the Principal of an Oxford32 College and a notable scientist, and MissMarple, having once met her in her nephew’s company, had never quite forgotten her.
Miss Marple resumed her survey of the passengers. There were two married couples, one American, middle-aged33,amiable, a talkative wife and a placidly34 agreeing husband. They were obviously dedicated35 travellers and sightseers.
There was also an English middle-aged couple whom Miss Marple noted down without hesitation36 as a retired37 militaryman and wife. She ticked them off from the list as Colonel and Mrs. Walker.
In the seat behind her was a tall, thin man of about thirty with a highly technical vocabulary, clearly an architect.
There were also two middle-aged ladies travelling together rather further up the coach. They were discussing thebrochure and deciding what the tour was going to hold for them in the way of attractions. One was dark and thin andthe other was fair and sturdily built and the latter’s face seemed faintly familiar to Miss Marple. She wondered whereshe had seen or met her before. However, she could not recall the occasion to mind. Possibly someone she had met ata cocktail38 party or sat opposite to in a train. There was nothing very special about her to remember.
Only one more passenger remained for her to appraise39, and this was a young man, possibly of about nineteen ortwenty. He wore the appropriate clothes for his age and sex; tight black jeans, a polo-necked purple sweater and hishead was an outsize rich mop of non-disciplined black hair. He was looking with an air of interest at the bossywoman’s niece, and the bossy40 woman’s niece also, Miss Marple thought, was looking with some interest at him. Inspite of the preponderance of elderly pussies and middle-aged females there were, at any rate, two young peopleamong the passengers.
They stopped for lunch at a pleasant riverside hotel, and the afternoon sightseeing was given over to Blenheim.
Miss Marple had already visited Blenheim twice before, so she saved her feet by limiting the amount of sightseeingindoors and coming fairly soon to the enjoyment41 of the gardens and the beautiful view.
By the time they arrived at the hotel where they were to stay the night, the passengers were getting to know eachother. The efficient Mrs. Sandbourne, still brisk and unwearied by her duties in directing the sightseeing, did her partvery well; creating little groups by adding anyone who looked as if they were left out to one or other of them,murmuring, “You must make Colonel Walker describe his garden to you. Such a wonderful collection of fuchsias hehas.” With such little sentences she drew people together.
Miss Marple was now able to attach names to all the passengers. Bushy eyebrows turned out to be ProfessorWanstead, as she had thought, and the foreigner was Mr. Caspar. The bossy woman was Mrs. Riseley-Porter and herniece was called Joanna Crawford. The young man with the hair was Emlyn Price and he and Joanna Crawfordappeared to be finding out that certain things in life, such as decided opinions, they had in common, on economics, art,general dislikes, politics and such topics.
The two eldest42 pussies graduated naturally to Miss Marple as a kindred elderly pussy43. They discussed happilyarthritis, rheumatism, diets, new doctors, remedies both professional, patent, and reminiscences of old wives’
treatments which had had success where all else failed. They discussed the many tours they had been on to foreignplaces in Europe; hotels, travel agencies and finally the County of Somerset where Miss Lumley and Miss Benthamlived, and where the difficulties of getting suitable gardeners could hardly be believed.
The two middle-aged ladies travelling together turned out to be Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow. Miss Marple stillfelt that one of these two, the fair one, Miss Cooke, was faintly familiar to her, but she still could not remember whereshe had seen her before. Probably it was only her fancy. It might also be just fancy but she could not help feeling thatMiss Barrow and Miss Cooke appeared to be avoiding her. They seemed rather anxious to move away if sheapproached. That, of course, might be entirely44 her imagination.
Fifteen people, one of whom at least must matter in some way. In casual conversation that evening she introducedthe name of Mr. Rafiel, so as to note if anyone reacted in any way. Nobody did.
The handsome woman was identified as Miss Elizabeth Temple, who was the retired Headmistress of a famousgirls’ school. Nobody appeared to Miss Marple likely to be a murderer except possibly Mr. Caspar, and that wasprobably foreign prejudice. The thin young man was Richard Jameson, an architect.
“Perhaps I shall do better tomorrow,” said Miss Marple to herself.
III
Miss Marple went to bed definitely tired out. Sightseeing was pleasant but exhausting, and trying to study fifteen orsixteen people at once and wondering as you did so which of them could possibly be connected with a murder, waseven more exhausting. It had a touch of such unreality about it that one could not, Miss Marple felt, take it seriously.
These seemed to be all perfectly45 nice people, the sort of people who go on cruises and on tours and all the rest of it.
However, she took another quick and cursory46 glance at the passenger list, making a few little entries in her notebook.
Mrs. Riseley-Porter? Not connected with crime. Too social and self-centred.
Niece, Joanna Crawford? The same? But very efficient.
Mrs. Riseley-Porter, however, might have information of some kind which Miss Marple might find had a bearingon matters. She must keep on agreeable terms with Mrs. Riseley-Porter.
Miss Elizabeth Temple? A personality. Interesting. She did not remind Miss Marple of any murderer she’d everknown. “In fact,” said Miss Marple to herself, “she really radiates integrity. If she had committed a murder, it wouldbe a very popular murder. Perhaps for some noble reason or for some reason that she thought noble?” But that wasn’tsatisfactory either. Miss Temple, she thought, would always know what she was doing and why she was doing it andwould not have any silly ideas about nobility when merely evil existed. “All the same,” said Miss Marple, “she’ssomeone and she might—she just might be a person Mr. Rafiel wanted me to meet for some reason.” She jotted47 downthese thoughts on the right-hand side of her notebook.
She shifted her point of view. She had been considering a possible murderer—what about a prospective48 victim?
Who was a possible victim? No one very likely. Perhaps Mrs. Riseley- Porter might qualify — rich — ratherdisagreeable. The efficient niece might inherit. She and the anarchistic49 Emlyn Price might combine in the cause ofanticapitalism. Not a very credible50 idea, but no other feasible murder seemed on offer.
Professor Wanstead? An interesting man, she was sure. Kindly51, too. Was he a scientist or was he medical? She wasnot as yet sure, but she put him down on the side of science. She herself knew nothing of science, but it seemed not atall unlikely.
Mr. and Mrs. Butler? She wrote them off. Nice Americans. No connections with anyone in the West Indies oranyone she had known. No, she didn’t think that the Butlers could be relevant.
Richard Jameson? That was the thin architect. Miss Marple didn’t see how architecture could come into it, thoughit might, she supposed. A priest’s hole, perhaps? One of the houses they were going to visit might have a priest’s holewhich would contain a skeleton. And Mr. Jameson, being an architect, would know just where the priest’s hole was.
He might aid her to discover it, or she might aid him to discover it and then they would find a body. “Oh really,” saidMiss Marple. “What nonsense I am talking and thinking.”
Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow? A perfectly ordinary pair. And yet she’d certainly seen one of them before. At leastshe’d seen Miss Cooke before. Oh well, it would come to her, she supposed.
Colonel and Mrs. Walker? Nice people. Retired Army folk. Served abroad mostly. Nice to talk to, but she didn’tthink there’d be anything for her there.
Miss Bentham and Miss Lumley? The elderly pussies. Unlikely to be criminals, but, being elderly pussies, theymight know plenty of gossip, or have some information, or might make some illuminating52 remark even if it happenedto come about in connection with rheumatism, arthritis or patent medicine.
Mr. Caspar? Possibly a dangerous character. Very excitable. She would keep him on the list for the present.
Emlyn Price? A student presumably. Students were very violent. Would Mr. Rafiel have sent her on the track of astudent? Well, it would depend perhaps on what the student had done or wished to do or was going to do. A dedicatedanarchist, perhaps.
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple, suddenly exhausted53, “I must go to bed.”
Her feet ached, her back ached and her mental reactions were not, she thought, at their best. She slept at once. Hersleep was enlivened by several dreams.
One where Professor Wanstead’s bushy eyebrows fell off because they were not his own eyebrows, but false ones.
As she woke again, her first impression was that which so often follows dreams, a belief that the dream in questionhad solved everything. “Of course,” she thought, “of course!” His eyebrows were false and that solved the wholething. He was the criminal.
Sadly, it came to her that nothing was solved. Professor Wanstead’s eyebrows coming off was of no help at all.
Unfortunately now, she was no longer sleepy. She sat up in bed with some determination.
She sighed and slipped on her dressing54 gown, moved from her bed to an upright chair, took a slightly largernotebook from her suitcase and started work.
“The project I have undertaken,” she wrote, “is connected certainly with crime of some kind. Mr. Rafielhas distinctly stated that in his letter. He said I had a flair55 for justice and that necessarily included a flairfor crime. So crime is involved, and it is presumably not espionage56 or fraud or robbery, because suchthings have never come my way and I have no connection with such things, or knowledge of them, orspecial skills. What Mr. Rafiel knows of me is only what he knew during the period of time when we wereboth in St. Honoré. We were connected there with a murder. Murders as reported in the press have neverclaimed my attention. I have never read books on criminology as a subject or really been interested in sucha thing. No, it has just happened that I have found myself in the vicinity of murder rather more often thanwould seem normal. My attention has been directed to murders involving friends or acquaintances. Thesecurious coincidences of connections with special subjects seem to happen to people in life. One of myaunts, I remember, was on five occasions shipwrecked and a friend of mine was what I believe is officiallycalled accident-prone. I know some of her friends refused to ride in a taxi with her. She had been in fourtaxi accidents and three car accidents and two railway accidents. Things like this seem to happen tocertain people for no appreciable57 reason. I do not like to write it down but it does appear that murdersseem to happen, not to me myself, thank goodness, but seem to happen in my vicinity.”
Miss Marple paused, changed her position, put a cushion in her back, and continued:
“I must try to make as logical a survey as I can of this project which I have undertaken. My instructions,or my ‘briefing’ as naval58 friends of mine put it, are so far quite inadequate59. Practically nonexistent. So Imust ask myself one clear question. What is all this about? Answer! I do not know. Curious andinteresting. An odd way for a man like Mr. Rafiel to go about things, especially when he was a successfulbusiness and financial operator. He wants me to guess, to employ my instinct, to observe and to obey suchdirections as are given to me or are hinted to me.
“So: Point 1. Direction will be given me. Direction from a dead man. Point 2. What is involved in myproblem is justice. Either to set right an injustice60 or to avenge61 evil by bringing it to justice. This is inaccord with the code word Nemesis62 given to me by Mr. Rafiel.
“After explanations of the principle involved, I received my first factual directive. It was arranged byMr. Rafiel before his death that I was to go on Tour No. 37 of Famous Houses and Gardens. Why? That iswhat I have to ask myself. Is it for some geographical63 or territorial64 reason? A connection or a clue? Someparticular famous house? Or something involving some particular garden or landscape connected? Thisseems unlikely. The more likely explanation lies in the people or one of the people on this particular coachparty. None of them is known to me personally, but one of them at least must be connected with the riddle65 Ihave to solve. Somebody among our group is connected or concerned with a murder. Somebody hasinformation or a special link with the victim of a crime, or someone personally is himself or herself amurderer. A murderer as yet unsuspected.”
Miss Marple stopped here suddenly. She nodded her head. She was satisfied now with her analysis so far as it went.
And so to bed.
Miss Marple added to her notebook.
“Here endeth the First Day.”
点击
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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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cremated
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| v.火葬，火化（尸体）( cremate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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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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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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itinerary
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| n.行程表，旅行路线；旅行计划 | |
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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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arthritis
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| n.关节炎 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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pussies
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| n.（粗俚） 女阴( pussy的名词复数 )；（总称）（作为性对象的）女人；（主要北美使用，非正式）软弱的；小猫咪 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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possessed
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mead
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apparently
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dictatorial
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bossiness
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aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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incisive
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| adj.敏锐的，机敏的，锋利的，切入的 | |
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dame
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Oxford
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middle-aged
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placidly
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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hesitation
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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appraise
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| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
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bossy
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| adj.爱发号施令的，作威作福的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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cursory
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| adj.粗略的；草率的；匆促的 | |
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jotted
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| v.匆忙记下( jot的过去式和过去分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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anarchistic
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| 无政府主义的 | |
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credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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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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flair
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| n.天赋，本领，才华；洞察力 | |
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espionage
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| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
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appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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inadequate
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| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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nemesis
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| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
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geographical
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| adj.地理的；地区(性)的 | |
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territorial
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| adj.领土的，领地的 | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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