EXERCISE IN DETECTION
I“W here do you think the body was? About here?” asked Giles.
He and Gwenda were standing1 in the front hall of Hillside. They had arrived back the night before, and Giles wasnow in full cry. He was as pleased as a small boy with his new toy.
“Just about,” said Gwenda. She retreated up the stairs and peered down critically. “Yes—I think that’s about it.”
“Crouch down,” said Giles. “You’re only about three years old, you know.”
Gwenda crouched2 obligingly.
“You couldn’t actually see the man who said the words?”
“I can’t remember seeing him. He must have been just a bit further back—yes, there. I could only see his paws.”
“Paws.” Giles frowned.
“They were paws. Grey paws—not human.”
“But look here, Gwenda. This isn’t a kind of Murder in the Rue3 Morgue. A man doesn’t have paws.”
“Well, he had paws.”
Giles looked doubtfully at her.
“You must have imagined that bit afterwards.”
Gwenda said slowly, “Don’t you think I may have imagined the whole thing? You know, Giles, I’ve been thinking.
It seems to me far more probable that the whole thing was a dream. It might have been. It was the sort of dream achild might have, and be terribly frightened, and go on remembering about. Don’t you think really that’s the properexplanation? Because nobody in Dillmouth seems to have the faintest idea that there was ever a murder, or a suddendeath, or a disappearance4 or anything odd about this house.”
Giles looked like a different kind of little boy—a little boy who has had his nice new toy taken away from him.
“I suppose it might have been a nightmare,” he admitted grudgingly5. Then his face cleared suddenly.
“No,” he said. “I don’t believe it. You could have dreamt about monkeys’ paws and someone dead—but I’mdamned if you could have dreamt that quotation6 from The Duchess of Malfi.”
“I could have heard someone say it and then dreamt about it afterwards.”
“I don’t think any child could do that. Not unless you heard it in conditions of great stress—and if that was the casewe’re back again where we were—hold on, I’ve got it. It was the paws you dreamt. You saw the body and heard thewords and you were scared stiff and then you had a nightmare about it, and there were waving monkeys’ paws too—probably you were frightened of monkeys.”
Gwenda looked slightly dubious7—she said slowly: “I suppose that might be it….”
“I wish you could remember a bit more … Come down here in the hall. Shut your eyes. Think … Doesn’t anythingmore come back to you?”
“No, it doesn’t, Giles … The more I think, the further it all goes away … I mean, I’m beginning to doubt now if Iever really saw anything at all. Perhaps the other night I just had a brainstorm8 in the theatre.”
“No. There was something. Miss Marple thinks so, too. What about ‘Helen’? Surely you must remember somethingabout Helen?”
“I don’t remember anything at all. It’s just a name.”
“It mightn’t even be the right name.”
“Yes, it was. It was Helen.”
Gwenda looked obstinate9 and convinced.
“Then if you’re so sure it was Helen, you must know something about her,” said Giles reasonably. “Did you knowher well? Was she living here? Or just staying here?”
“I tell you I don’t know.” Gwenda was beginning to look strained and nervy.
Giles tried another tack10.
“Who else can you remember? Your father?”
“No. I mean, I can’t tell. There was always his photograph, you see. Aunt Alison used to say: ‘That’s your Daddy.’
I don’t remember him here, in this house….”
“And no servants—nurses—anything like that?”
“No—no. The more I try to remember, the more it’s all a blank. The things I know are all underneath—likewalking to that door automatically. I didn’t remember a door there. Perhaps if you wouldn’t worry me so much, Giles,things would come back more. Anyway, trying to find out about it all is hopeless. It’s so long ago.”
“Of course it’s not hopeless—even old Miss Marple admitted that.”
“She didn’t help us with any ideas of how to set about it,” said Gwenda. “And yet I feel, from the glint in her eye,that she had a few. I wonder how she would have gone about it.”
“I don’t suppose she would be likely to think of ways that we wouldn’t,” said Giles positively11. “We must stopspeculating, Gwenda, and set about things in a systematic12 way. We’ve made a beginning—I’ve looked through theParish registers of deaths. There’s no ‘Helen’ of the right age amongst them. In fact there doesn’t seem to be a Helenat all in the period I covered—Ellen Pugg, ninety-four, was the nearest. Now we must think of the next profitableapproach. If your father, and presumably your stepmother, lived in this house, they must either have bought it orrented it.”
“According to Foster, the gardener, some people called Elworthy had it before the Hengraves and before them Mrs.
Findeyson. Nobody else.”
“Your father might have bought it and lived in it for a very short time—and then sold it again. But I think that it’smuch more likely that he rented it—probably rented it furnished. If so, our best bet is to go round the house agents.”
Going round the house agents was not a prolonged labour. There were only two house agents in Dillmouth. Messrs.
Wilkinson were a comparatively new arrival. They had only opened their premises13 eleven years ago. They dealtmostly with the small bungalows14 and new houses at the far end of the town. The other agents, Messrs. Galbraith andPenderley, were the ones from whom Gwenda had bought the house. Calling upon them, Giles plunged15 into his story.
He and his wife were delighted with Hillside and with Dillmouth generally. Mrs. Reed had only just discovered thatshe had actually lived in Dillmouth as a small child. She had some very faint memories of the place, and had an ideathat Hillside was actually the house in which she had lived but could not be quite certain about it. Had they any recordof the house being let to a Major Halliday? It would be about eighteen or nineteen years ago….
Mr. Penderley stretched out apologetic hands.
“I’m afraid it’s not possible to tell you, Mr. Reed. Our records do not go back that far—not, that is, of furnished orshort-period lets. Very sorry I can’t help you, Mr. Reed. As a matter of fact if our old head clerk, Mr. Narracott, hadstill been alive—he died last winter—he might have been able to assist you. A most remarkable16 memory, really quiteremarkable. He had been with the firm for nearly thirty years.”
“There’s no one else who would possibly remember?”
“Our staff is all on the comparatively young side. Of course there is old Mr. Galbraith himself. He retired17 someyears ago.”
“Perhaps I could ask him?” said Gwenda.
“Well, I hardly know about that …” Mr. Penderley was dubious. “He had a stroke last year. His faculties18 are sadlyimpaired. He’s over eighty, you know.”
“Does he live in Dillmouth?”
“Oh yes. At Calcutta Lodge19. A very nice little property on the Seaton road. But I really don’t think—”
II
“It’s rather a forlorn hope,” said Giles to Gwenda. “But you never know. I don’t think we’ll write. We’ll go theretogether and exert our personality.”
Calcutta Lodge was surrounded by a neat trim garden, and the sitting room into which they were shown was alsoneat if slightly overcrowded. It smelt20 of beeswax and Ronuk. Its brasses22 shone. Its windows were heavily festooned.
A thin middle-aged23 woman with suspicious eyes came into the room.
Giles explained himself quickly, and the expression of one who expects to have a vacuum cleaner pushed at her leftMiss Galbraith’s face.
“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can help you,” she said. “It’s so long ago, isn’t it?”
“One does sometimes remember things,” said Gwenda.
“Of course I shouldn’t know anything myself. I never had any connection with the business. A Major Halliday, yousaid? No, I never remember coming across anyone in Dillmouth of that name.”
“Your father might remember, perhaps,” said Gwenda.
“Father?” Miss Galbraith shook her head. “He doesn’t take much notice nowadays, and his memory’s very shaky.”
Gwenda’s eyes were resting thoughtfully on a Benares brass21 table and they shifted to a procession of ebonyelephants marching along the mantelpiece.
“I thought he might remember, perhaps,” she said, “because my father had just come from India. Your house iscalled Calcutta Lodge?”
She paused interrogatively.
“Yes,” said Miss Galbraith. “Father was out in Calcutta for a time. In business there. Then the war came and in1920 he came into the firm here, but would have liked to go back, he always says. But my mother didn’t fancy foreignparts—and of course you can’t say the climate’s really healthy. Well, I don’t know—perhaps you’d like to see myfather. I don’t know that it’s one of his good days—”
She led them into a small black study. Here, propped24 up in a big shabby leather chair sat an old gentleman with awhite walrus25 moustache. His face was pulled slightly sideways. He eyed Gwenda with distinct approval as hisdaughter made the introductions.
“Memory’s not what it used to be,” he said in a rather indistinct voice. “Halliday, you say? No, I don’t rememberthe name. Knew a boy at school in Yorkshire—but that’s seventy-odd years ago.”
“He rented Hillside, we think,” said Giles.
“Hillside? Was it called Hillside then?” Mr. Galbraith’s one movable eyelid26 snapped shut and open. “Findeysonlived there. Fine woman.”
“My father might have rented it furnished … He’d just come from India.”
“India? India, d’you say? Remember a fellow—Army man. Knew that old rascal27 Mohammed Hassan who cheatedme over some carpets. Had a young wife—and a baby—little girl.”
“That was me,” said Gwenda firmly.
“In—deed—you don’t say so! Well, well, time flies. Now what was his name? Wanted a place furnished—yes—Mrs. Findeyson had been ordered to Egypt or some such place for the winter—all tomfoolery. Now what was hisname?”
“Halliday,” said Gwenda.
“That’s right, my dear—Halliday. Major Halliday. Nice fellow. Very pretty wife—quite young—fair-haired,wanted to be near her people or something like that. Yes, very pretty.”
“Who were her people?”
“No idea at all. No idea. You don’t look like her.”
Gwenda nearly said, “She was only my stepmother,” but refrained from complicating28 the issue. She said, “Whatdid she look like?”
Unexpectedly Mr. Galbraith replied: “Looked worried. That’s what she looked, worried. Yes, very nice fellow, thatMajor chap. Interested to hear I’d been out in Calcutta. Not like these chaps that have never been out of England.
Narrow—that’s what they are. Now I’ve seen the world. What was his name, that Army chap—wanted a furnishedhouse?”
He was like a very old gramophone, repeating a worn record.
“St. Catherine’s. That’s it. Took St. Catherine’s—six guineas a week—while Mrs. Findeyson was in Egypt. Diedthere, poor soul. House was put up for auction—who bought it now? Elworthys—that’s it—pack of women—sisters.
Changed the name—said St. Catherine’s was Popish. Very down on anything Popish—Used to send out tracts29. Plainwomen, all of ’em—Took an interest in niggers—Sent ’em out trousers and bibles. Very strong on converting theheathen.”
He sighed suddenly and leant back.
“Long time ago,” he said fretfully. “Can’t remember names. Chap from India—nice chap … I’m tired, Gladys. I’dlike my tea.”
Giles and Gwenda thanked him, thanked his daughter, and came away.
“So that’s proved,” said Gwenda. “My father and I were at Hillside. What do we do next?”
“I’ve been an idiot,” said Giles. “Somerset House.”
“What’s Somerset House?” asked Gwenda.
“It’s a record office where you can look up marriages. I’m going there to look up your father’s marriage. Accordingto your aunt, your father was married to his second wife immediately on arriving in England. Don’t you see, Gwenda—it ought to have occurred to us before—it’s perfectly30 possible that ‘Helen’ may have been a relation of yourstepmother’s—a young sister, perhaps. Anyway, once we know what her surname was, we may be able to get on tosomeone who knows about the general setup at Hillside. Remember the old boy said they wanted a house in Dillmouthto be near Mrs. Halliday’s people. If her people live near here we may get something.”
“Giles,” said Gwenda. “I think you’re wonderful.”
III
Giles did not, after all, find it necessary to go to London. Though his energetic nature always made him prone31 to rushhither and thither32 and try to do everything himself, he admitted that a purely33 routine enquiry could be delegated.
He put through a trunk call to his office.
“Got it,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, when the expected reply arrived.
From the covering letter he extracted a certified34 copy of a marriage certificate.
“Here we are, Gwenda. Friday, Aug. 7th Kensington Registry Office. Kelvin James Halliday to Helen SpenloveKennedy.”
Gwenda cried out sharply!
“Helen?”
They looked at each other.
Giles said slowly: “But—but—it can’t be her. I mean—they separated, and she married again—and went away.”
“We don’t know,” said Gwenda, “that she went away….”
She looked again at the plainly written name:
Helen Spenlove Kennedy.
Helen….
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standing
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crouched
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rue
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disappearance
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grudgingly
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quotation
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dubious
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brainstorm
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| vi.动脑筋，出主意，想办法，献计，献策 | |
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obstinate
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tack
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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systematic
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| adj.有系统的，有计划的，有方法的 | |
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premises
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bungalows
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plunged
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remarkable
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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lodge
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smelt
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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brasses
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| n.黄铜( brass的名词复数 )；铜管乐器；钱；黄铜饰品（尤指马挽具上的黄铜圆片） | |
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middle-aged
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propped
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walrus
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eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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complicating
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tracts
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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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prone
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thither
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purely
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certified
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