WHICH OF THEM?
G iles and Gwenda had not gone with Inspector1 Last and Dr. Kennedy to interview Mr. Kimble. They arrived homeabout seven o’clock. Gwenda looked white and ill. Dr. Kennedy had said to Giles: “Give her some brandy and makeher eat something, then get her to bed. She’s had a bad shock.”
“It’s so awful, Giles,” Gwenda kept saying. “So awful. That silly woman, making an appointment with themurderer, and going along so confidently—to be killed. Like a sheep to the slaughter2.”
“Well, don’t think about it, darling. After all, we did know there was someone—a killer3.”
“No, we didn’t. Not a killer now. I mean, it was then—eighteen years ago. It wasn’t, somehow, quite real … Itmight all have been a mistake.”
“Well, this proves that it wasn’t a mistake. You were right all the time, Gwenda.”
Giles was glad to find Miss Marple at Hillside. She and Mrs. Cocker between them fussed over Gwenda whorefused brandy because she said it always reminded her of Channel steamers, but accepted some hot whisky andlemon, and then, coaxed4 by Mrs. Cocker, sat down and ate an omelette.
Giles would have talked determinedly5 of other things, but Miss Marple, with what Giles admitted to be superiortactics, discussed the crime in a gentle aloof6 manner.
“Very dreadful, my dear,” she said. “And of course a great shock, but interesting, one must admit. And of course Iam so old that death doesn’t shock me as much as it does you—only something lingering and painful like cancer reallydistresses me. The really vital thing is that this proves definitely and beyond any possible doubt that poor young HelenHalliday was killed. We’ve thought so all along and now we know.”
“And according to you we ought to know where the body is,” said Giles. “The cellar, I suppose.”
“No, no, Mr. Reed. You remember Edith Pagett said she went down there on the morning after because she wasdisturbed by what Lily had said, and she found no signs of anything of the kind—and there would be signs, you know,if somebody was really looking for them.”
“Then what happened to it? Taken away in a car and thrown over a cliff into the sea?”
“No. Come now, my dears, what struck you first of all when you came here—struck you, Gwenda, I should say.
The fact that from the drawing room window, you had no view down to the sea. Where you felt, very properly, thatsteps should lead down to the lawn—there was instead a plantation7 of shrubs8. The steps, you found subsequently, hadbeen there originally, but had at some time been transferred to the end of the terrace. Why were they moved?”
Gwenda stared at her with dawning comprehension.
“You mean that that’s where—”
“There must have been a reason for making the change, and there doesn’t really seem to be a sensible one. It is,frankly, a stupid place to have steps down to the lawn. But that end of the terrace is a very quiet place—it’s notoverlooked from the house except by one window—the window of the nursery, on the first floor. Don’t you see, that ifyou want to bury a body the earth will be disturbed and there must be a reason for its being disturbed. The reason wasthat it had been decided9 to move the steps from in front of the drawing room to the end of the terrace. I’ve learntalready from Dr. Kennedy that Helen Halliday and her husband were very keen on the garden, and did a lot of work init. The daily gardener they employed used merely to carry out their orders, and if he arrived to find that this changewas in progress and some of the flags had already been moved, he would only have thought that the Hallidays hadstarted on the work when he wasn’t there. The body, of course, could have been buried at either place, but we can bequite certain, I think, that it is actually buried at the end of the terrace and not in front of the drawing room window.”
“Why can we be sure?” asked Gwenda.
“Because of what poor Lily Kimble said in her letter—that she changed her mind about the body being in the cellarbecause of what Léonie saw when she looked out of the window. That makes it very clear, doesn’t it? The Swiss girllooked out of the nursery window at some time during the night and saw the grave being dug. Perhaps she actuallysaw who it was digging it.”
“And never said anything to the police?”
“My dear, there was no question at the time of a crime having occurred. Mrs. Halliday had run away with a lover—that was all that Léonie would grasp. She probably couldn’t speak much English anyway. She did mention to Lily,perhaps not at the time, but later, a curious thing she had observed from her window that night, and that stimulatedLily’s belief in a crime having occurred. But I’ve no doubt that Edith Pagett told Lily off for talking nonsense, and theSwiss girl would accept her point of view and would certainly not wish to be mixed-up with the police. Foreignersalways seem to be particularly nervous about the police when they are in a strange country. So she went back toSwitzerland and very likely never thought of it again.”
Giles said: “If she’s alive now—if she can be traced—”
Miss Marple nodded her head. “Perhaps.”
Giles demanded: “How can we set about it?”
Miss Marple said: “The police will be able to do that much better than you can.”
“Inspector Last is coming over here tomorrow morning.”
“Then I think I should tell him—about the steps.”
“And about what I saw—or think I saw—in the hall?” asked Gwenda nervously10.
“Yes, dear. You’ve been very wise to say nothing of that until now. Very wise. But I think the time has come.”
Giles said slowly: “She was strangled in the hall, and then the murderer carried her upstairs and put her on the bed.
Kelvin Halliday came in, passed out with doped whisky, and in his turn was carried upstairs to the bedroom. He cameto, and thought he had killed her. The murderer must have been watching somewhere near at hand. When Kelvin wentoff to Dr. Kennedy’s, the murderer took away the body, probably hid it in the shrubbery at the end of the terrace andwaited until everybody had gone to bed and was presumably asleep, before he dug the grave and buried the body. Thatmeans he must have been here, hanging about the house, pretty well all that night?”
Miss Marple nodded.
“He had to be—on the spot. I remember your saying that that was important. We’ve got to see which of our threesuspects fits in best with the requirements. We’ll take Erskine first. Now he definitely was on the spot. By his ownadmission he walked up here with Helen Kennedy from the beach at round about nine o’clock. He said good-bye toher. But did he say good-bye to her? Let’s say instead that he strangled her.”
“But it was all over between them,” cried Gwenda. “Long ago. He said himself that he was hardly ever alone withHelen.”
“But don’t you see, Gwenda, that the way we must look at it now, we can’t depend on anything anyone says.”
“Now I’m so glad to hear you say that,” said Miss Marple. “Because I’ve been a little worried, you know, by theway you two have seemed willing to accept, as actual fact, all the things that people have told you. I’m afraid I have asadly distrustful nature, but, especially in a matter of murder, I make it a rule to take nothing that is told to me as true,unless it is checked. For instance, it does seem quite certain that Lily Kimble mentioned the clothes packed and takenaway in a suitcase were not the ones Helen Halliday would herself have taken, because not only did Edith Pagett tellus that Lily said so to her, but Lily herself mentioned the fact in her letter to Dr. Kennedy. So that is one fact. Dr.
Kennedy told us that Kelvin Halliday believed that his wife was secretly drugging him, and Kelvin Halliday in hisdiary confirms that—so there is another fact—and a very curious fact it is, don’t you think? However, we will not gointo that now.
“But I would like to point out that a great many of the assumptions you have made have been based upon what hasbeen told you—possibly told you very plausibly11.”
Giles stared hard at her.
Gwenda, her colour restored, sipped12 coffee, and leaned across the table.
Giles said: “Let’s check up now on what three people have said to us. Take Erskine first. He says—”
“You’ve got a down on him,” said Gwenda. “It’s waste of time going on about him, because now he’s definitelyout of it. He couldn’t have killed Lily Kimble.”
Giles went on imperturbly: “He says that he met Helen on the boat going out to India and they fell in love, but thathe couldn’t bring himself to leave his wife and children, and that they agreed they must say good-bye. Suppose itwasn’t quite like that. Suppose he fell desperately13 in love with Helen, and that it was she who wouldn’t run off withhim. Supposing he threatened that if she married anyone else he would kill her.”
“Most improbable,” said Gwenda.
“Things like that do happen. Remember what you overheard his wife say to him. You put it all down to jealousy,but it may have been true. Perhaps she has had a terrible time with him where women are concerned—he may be alittle bit of a sex maniac14.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“No, because he’s attractive to women. I think, myself, that there is something a little queer about Erskine.
However, let’s go on with my case against him. Helen breaks off her engagement to Fane and comes home andmarries your father and settles down here. And then suddenly, Erskine turns up. He comes down ostensibly on asummer holiday with his wife. That’s an odd thing to do, really. He admits he came here to see Helen again. Now let’stake it that Erskine was the man in the drawing room with her that day when Lily overheard her say she was afraid ofhim. ‘I’m afraid of you—I’ve always been afraid of you—I think you’re mad.’
“And, because she’s afraid, she makes plans to go and live in Norfolk, but she’s very secretive about it. No one isto know. No one is to know, that is, until the Erskines have left Dillmouth. So far that fits. Now we come to the fatalnight. What the Hallidays were doing earlier that evening we don’t know—”
Miss Marple coughed.
“As a matter of fact, I saw Edith Pagett again. She remembers that there was early supper that night—seveno’clock—because Major Halliday was going to some meeting—Golf Club, she thinks it was, or some Parish meeting.
Mrs. Halliday went out after supper.”
“Right. Helen meets Erskine, by appointment, perhaps, on the beach. He is leaving the following day. Perhaps herefuses to go. He urges Helen to go away with him. She comes back here and he comes with her. Finally, in a fit offrenzy he strangles her. The next bit is as we have already agreed. He’s slightly mad, he wants Kelvin Halliday tobelieve it is he who has killed her. Later, Erskine buries the body. You remember, he told Gwenda that he didn’t goback to the hotel until very late because he was walking about Dillmouth.”
“One wonders,” said Miss Marple, “what his wife was doing?”
“Probably frenzied16 with jealousy,” said Gwenda. “And gave him hell when he did get in.”
“That’s my reconstruction17,” said Giles. “And it’s possible.”
“But he couldn’t have killed Lily Kimble,” said Gwenda, “because he lives in Northumberland. So thinking abouthim is just waste of time. Let’s take Walter Fane.”
“Right. Walter Fane is the repressed type. He seems gentle and mild and easily pushed around. But Miss Marplehas brought us one valuable bit of testimony18. Walter Fane was once in such a rage that he nearly killed his brother.
Admittedly he was a child at the time, but it was startling because he had always seemed of such a gentle forgivingnature. Anyway, Walter Fane falls in love with Helen Halliday. Not merely in love, he’s crazy about her. She won’thave him and he goes off to India. Later she writes him that she will come out and marry him. She starts. Then comesthe second blow. She arrives and promptly19 jilts him. She has ‘met someone on the boat.’ She goes home and marriesKelvin Halliday. Possibly Walter Fane thinks that Kelvin Halliday was the original cause of her turning him down. Hebroods, nurses a crazy jealous hate and comes home. He behaves in a most forgiving, friendly manner, is often at thishouse, has become apparently20 a tame cat around the house, the faithful Dobbin. But perhaps Helen realizes that thisisn’t true. She gets a glimpse of what is going on below the surface. Perhaps, long ago, she sensed somethingdisturbing in quiet young Walter Fane. She says to him, ‘I think I’ve always been afraid of you.’ She makes plans,secretly, to go right away from Dillmouth and live in Norfolk. Why? Because she’s afraid of Walter Fane.
“Now we come again to the fatal evening. Here, we’re not on very sure ground. We don’t know what Walter Fanewas doing that night, and I don’t see any probability of ever finding out. But he fulfils Miss Marple’s requirement ofbeing ‘on the spot’ to the extent of living in a house that is only two or three minutes’ walk away. He may have said hewas going to bed early with a headache, or shut himself into his study with work to do—something of that kind. Hecould have done all the things we’ve decided the murderer did do, and I think that he’s the most likely of the three tohave made mistakes in packing a suitcase. He wouldn’t know enough about what women wear to do it properly.”
“It was queer,” said Gwenda. “In his office that day I had an odd sort of feeling that he was like a house with itsblinds pulled down … and I even had a fanciful idea that—that there was someone dead in the house.”
She looked at Miss Marple.
“Does that seem very silly to you?” she asked.
“No, my dear. I think that perhaps you were right.”
“And now,” said Gwenda, “we come to Afflick. Afflick’s Tours. Jackie Afflick who was always too smart by half.
The first thing against him is that Dr. Kennedy believed he had incipient21 persecution22 mania15. That is—he was neverreally normal. He’s told us about himself and Helen—but we’ll agree now that that was all a pack of lies. He didn’tjust think she was a cute kid—he was madly, passionately23 in love with her. But she wasn’t in love with him. She wasjust amusing herself. She was man mad, as Miss Marple says.”
“No, dear. I didn’t say that. Nothing of the kind.”
“Well, a nymphomaniac if you prefer the term. Anyway, she had an affair with Jackie Afflick and then wanted todrop him. He didn’t want to be dropped. Her brother got her out of her scrape, but Jackie Afflick never forgave orforgot. He lost his job — according to him through being framed by Walter Fane. That shows definite signs ofpersecution mania.”
“Yes,” agreed Giles. “But on the other hand, if it was true, it’s another point against Fane—quite a valuable point.”
Gwenda went on.
“Helen goes abroad, and he leaves Dillmouth. But he never forgets her, and when she returns to Dillmouth,married, he comes over and visits her. He said first of all, he came once, but later on, he admits that he came more thanonce. And, oh Giles, don’t you remember? Edith Pagett used a phrase about ‘our mystery man in a flashy car.’ Yousee, he came often enough to make the servants talk. But Helen took pains not to ask him to a meal—not to let himmeet Kelvin. Perhaps she was afraid of him. Perhaps—”
Giles interrupted.
“This might cut both ways. Supposing Helen was in love with him—the first man she ever was in love with, andsupposing she went on being in love with him. Perhaps they had an affair together and she didn’t let anyone knowabout it. But perhaps he wanted her to go away with him, and by that time she was tired of him, and wouldn’t go, andso—and so—he killed her. And all the rest of it. Lily said in her letter to Dr. Kennedy there was a posh car standingoutside that night. It was Jackie Afflick’s car. Jackie Afflick was ‘on the spot,’ too.
“It’s an assumption,” said Giles. “But it seems to me a reasonable one. But there are Helen’s letters to be workedinto our reconstruction. I’ve been puzzling my brains to think of the ‘circumstances,’ as Miss Marple put it, underwhich she could have been induced to write those letters. It seems to me that to explain them, we’ve got to admit thatshe actually had a lover, and that she was expecting to go away with him. We’ll test our three possibles again. Erskinefirst. Say that he still wasn’t prepared to leave his wife or break up his home, but that Helen had agreed to leave KelvinHalliday and go somewhere where Erskine could come and be with her from time to time. The first thing would be todisarm Mrs. Erskine’s suspicions, so Helen writes a couple of letters to reach her brother in due course which will lookas though she has gone abroad with someone. That fits in very well with her being so mysterious about who the man inquestion is.”
“But if she was going to leave her husband for him, why did he kill her?” asked Gwenda.
“Perhaps because she suddenly changed her mind. Decided that she did really care for her husband after all. He justsaw red and strangled her. Then, he took the clothes and suitcase and used the letters. That’s a perfectly24 goodexplanation covering everything.”
“The same might apply to Walter Fane. I should imagine that scandal might be absolutely disastrous25 to a countrysolicitor. Helen might have agreed to go somewhere nearby where Fane could visit her but pretend that she had goneabroad with someone else. Letters all prepared and then, as you suggested, she changed her mind. Walter went madand killed her.”
“What about Jackie Afflick?”
“It’s more difficult to find a reason for the letters with him. I shouldn’t imagine that scandal would affect him.
Perhaps Helen was afraid, not of him, but of my father—and so thought it would be better to pretend she’d goneabroad—or perhaps Afflick’s wife had the money at that time, and he wanted her money to invest in his business. Ohyes, there are lots of possibilities for the letters.”
“Which one do you fancy, Miss Marple?” asked Gwenda. “I don’t really think Walter Fane—but then—”
Mrs. Cocker had just come in to clear away the coffee cups.
“There now, madam,” she said. “I quite forgot. All this about a poor woman being murdered and you and Mr. Reedmixed up in it, not at all the right thing for you, madam, just now. Mr. Fane was here this afternoon, asking for you.
He waited quite half an hour. Seemed to think you were expecting him.”
“How strange,” said Gwenda. “What time?”
“It must have been about four o’clock or just after. And then, after that, there was another gentleman, came in agreat big yellow car. He was positive you were expecting him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. Waited twentyminutes. I wondered if you’d had some idea of a tea party and forgotten it.”
“No,” said Gwenda. “How odd.”
“Let’s ring up Fane now,” said Giles. “He won’t have gone to bed.”
He suited the action to the word.
“Hullo, is that Fane speaking? Giles Reed here. I hear you came round to see us this afternoon—What?—No—no,I’m sure of it—no, how very odd. Yes, I wonder, too.”
He laid down the receiver.
“Here’s an odd thing. He was rung up in his office this morning. A message left would he come round and see usthis afternoon. It was very important.”
Giles and Gwenda stared at each other. Then Gwenda said, “Ring up Afflick.”
Again Giles went to the telephone, found the number and rang through. It took a little longer, but presently he gotthe connection.
“Mr. Afflick? Giles Reed, I—”
Here he was obviously interrupted by a flow of speech from the other end.
At last he was able to say:
“But we didn’t—no, I assure you—nothing of the kind—Yes—yes, I know you’re a busy man. I wouldn’t havedreamed of—Yes, but look here, who was it rang you—a man?—No, I tell you it wasn’t me. No—no, I see. Well, Iagree, it’s quite extraordinary.”
He replaced the receiver and came back to the table.
“Well, there it is,” he said. “Somebody, a man who said he was me, rang up Afflick and asked him to come overhere. It was urgent—big sum of money involved.”
They looked at each other.
“It could have been either of them,” said Gwenda. “Don’t you see, Giles? Either of them could have killed Lily andcome on here as an alibi26.”
“Hardly an alibi, dear,” put in Miss Marple.
“I don’t mean quite an alibi, but an excuse for being away from their office. What I mean is, one of them isspeaking the truth and one is lying. One of them rang up the other and asked him to come here—to throw suspicion onhim—but we don’t know which. It’s a clear issue now between the two of them. Fane or Afflick. I say—JackieAfflick.”
“I think Walter Fane,” said Giles.
They both looked at Miss Marple.
She shook her head.
“There’s another possibility,” she said.
“Of course. Erskine.”
Giles fairly ran across to the telephone.
“What are you going to do?” asked Gwenda.
“Put through a trunk call to Northumberland.”
“Oh Giles—you can’t really think—”
“We’ve got to know. If he’s there—he can’t have killed Lily Kimble this afternoon. No private aeroplanes or sillystuff like that.”
They waited in silence until the telephone bell rang.
Giles picked up the receiver.
“You were asking for a personal call to Major Erskine. Go ahead, please. Major Erskine is waiting.”
Clearing his throat nervously, Giles said, “Er—Erskine? Giles Reed here—Reed, yes.”
He cast a sudden agonized27 glance at Gwenda which said as plainly as possible, “What the hell do I say now?”
Gwenda got up and took the receiver from him.
“Major Erskine? This is Mrs. Reed here. We’ve heard of—of a house. Linscott Brake. Is—is it—do you knowanything about it? It’s somewhere near you, I believe.”
Erskine’s voice said: “Linscott Brake? No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it. What’s the postal28 town?”
“It’s terribly blurred,” said Gwenda. “You know those awful typescripts agents send out. But it says fifteen milesfrom Daith so we thought—”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t heard of it. Who lives there?”
“Oh, it’s empty. But never mind, actually we’ve—we’ve practically settled on a house. I’m so sorry to havebothered you. I expect you were busy.”
“No, not at all. At least only busy domestically. My wife’s away. And our cook had to go off to her mother, so I’vebeen dealing29 with domestic routine. I’m afraid I’m not much of a hand at it. Better in the garden.”
“I’d always rather do gardening than housework. I hope your wife isn’t ill?”
“Oh no, she was called away to a sister. She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Well, good night, and so sorry to have bothered you.”
She put down the receiver.
“Erskine is out of it,” she said triumphantly30. “His wife’s away and he’s doing all the chores. So that leaves itbetween the two others. Doesn’t it, Miss Marple?”
Miss Marple was looking grave.
“I don’t think, my dears,” she said, “that you have given quite enough thought to the matter. Oh dear—I am reallyvery worried. If only I knew exactly what to do….”
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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slaughter
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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coaxed
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determinedly
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aloof
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plantation
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shrubs
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decided
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nervously
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plausibly
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sipped
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desperately
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maniac
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mania
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frenzied
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reconstruction
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testimony
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promptly
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apparently
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incipient
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persecution
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passionately
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perfectly
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disastrous
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alibi
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agonized
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postal
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dealing
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triumphantly
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