I‘Do you believe it?’ Vera asked.
She and Philip Lombard sat on the window-sill of the living-room. Out-side the rain poured down and the wind howled in great shuddering1 gustsagainst the window-panes.
Philip Lombard cocked his head slightly on one side before answering.
Then he said:
‘You mean, do I believe that old Wargrave is right when he says it’s oneof us?’
‘Yes.’
Philip Lombard said slowly:
‘It’s difficult to say. Logically, you know, he’s right, and yet—’
Vera took the words out of his mouth.
‘And yet it seems so incredible!’
Philip Lombard made a grimace2.
‘The whole thing’s incredible! But after Macarthur’s death there’s nomore doubt as to one thing. There’s no question now of accidents or sui-cides. It’s definitely murder. Three murders up to date.’
Vera shivered. She said:
‘It’s like some awful dream. I keep feeling that things like this can’t hap-pen!’
He said with understanding:
‘I know. Presently a tap will come on the door, and early morning teawill be brought in.’
Vera said:
‘Oh, how I wish that could happen!’
Philip Lombard said gravely:
‘Yes, but it won’t! We’re all in the dream! And we’ve got to be prettymuch upon our guard from now on.’
Vera said, lowering her voice:
‘If—if it is one of them—which do you think it is?’
Philip Lombard grinned suddenly. He said:
‘I take it you are excepting our two selves? Well, that’s all right. I knowvery well that I’m not the murderer, and I don’t fancy that there’s any-thing insane about you, Vera. You strike me as being one of the sanest4 andmost level-headed girls I’ve come across. I’d stake my reputation on yoursanity.’
With a slightly wry5 smile, Vera said:
‘Thank you.’
He said: ‘Come now, Miss Vera Claythorne, aren’t you going to returnthe compliment?’
Vera hesitated a minute, then she said:
‘You’ve admitted, you know, that you don’t hold human life particularlysacred, but all the same I can’t see you as—as the man who dictated6 thatgramophone record.’
Lombard said:
‘Quite right. If I were to commit one or more murders it would be solelyfor what I could get out of them. This mass clearance7 isn’t my line of coun-try. Good, then we’ll eliminate ourselves and concentrate on our five fel-low prisoners. Which of them is U. N. Owen. Well, at a guess, and with ab-solutely nothing to go upon, I’d plump for Wargrave!’
‘Oh!’ Vera sounded surprised. She thought a minute or two and thensaid, ‘Why?’
‘Hard to say exactly. But to begin with, he’s an old man and he’s beenpresiding over courts of law for years. That is to say, he’s played GodAlmighty for a good many months every year. That must go to a man’shead eventually. He gets to see himself as all powerful, as holding thepower of life and death—and it’s possible that his brain might snap and hemight want to go one step farther and be Executioner and Judge Ex-traordinary.’
Vera said slowly:
‘Yes, I suppose that’s possible…’
Lombard said:
‘Who do you plump for?’
Without any hesitation8 Vera answered:
‘Dr Armstrong.’
Lombard gave a low whistle.
‘The doctor, eh? You know, I should have put him last of all.’
Vera shook her head.
‘Oh no! Two of the deaths have been poison. That rather points to a doc-tor. And then you can’t get over the fact that the only thing we are abso-lutely certain Mrs Rogers had was the sleeping draught9 that he gave her.’
Lombard admitted:
‘Yes, that’s true.’
Vera persisted:
‘If a doctor went mad, it would be a long time before any one suspected.
And doctors overwork and have a lot of strain.’
Philip Lombard said:
‘Yes, but I doubt if he could have killed Macarthur. He wouldn’t havehad time during that brief interval10 when I left him—not, that is, unless hefairly hared down there and back again, and I doubt if he’s in goodenough training to do that and show no signs of it.’
Vera said:
‘He didn’t do it then. He had an opportunity later.’
‘When?’
‘When he went down to call the General to lunch.’
Philip whistled again very softly. He said:
‘So you think he did it then? Pretty cool thing to do.’
Vera said impatiently:
‘What risk was there? He’s the only person here with medical know-ledge. He can swear the body’s been dead at least an hour and who’s tocontradict him?’
Philip looked at her thoughtfully.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘that’s a clever idea of yours. I wonder—’
II
‘Who is it, Mr Blore? That’s what I want to know. Who is it?’
Rogers’ face was working. His hands were clenched11 round the polishingleather that he held in his hand.
Ex-Inspector Blore said:
‘Eh, my lad, that’s the question!’
‘One of us, ’is lordship said. Which one? That’s what I want to know.
Who’s the fiend in ’uman form?’
‘That,’ said Blore, ‘is what we all would like to know.’
Rogers said shrewdly:
‘But you’ve got an idea, Mr Blore. You’ve got an idea, ’aven’t you?’
‘I may have an idea,’ said Blore slowly. ‘But that’s a long way from beingsure. I may be wrong. All I can say is that if I’m right the person in ques-tion is a very cool customer—a very cool customer indeed.’
Rogers wiped the perspiration12 from his forehead. He said hoarsely13:
‘It’s like a bad dream, that’s what it is.’
Blore said, looking at him curiously14:
‘Got any ideas yourself, Rogers?’
The butler shook his head. He said hoarsely:
‘I don’t know. I don’t know at all. And that’s what’s frightening the lifeout of me. To have no idea…’
III
Dr Armstrong said violently:
‘We must get out of here—we must—we must! At all costs!’
Mr Justice Wargrave looked thoughtfully out of the smoking-room win-dow. He played with the cord of his eyeglasses. He said:
‘I do not, of course, profess15 to be a weather prophet. But I should saythat it is very unlikely that a boat could reach us—even if they knew ofour plight—in under twenty-four hours—and even then only if the winddrops.’
Dr Armstrong dropped his head in his hands and groaned16.
He said:
‘And in the meantime we may all be murdered in our beds?’
‘I hope not,’ said Mr Justice Wargrave. ‘I intend to take every possibleprecaution against such a thing happening.’
It flashed across Dr Armstrong’s mind that an old man like the judgewas far more tenacious17 of life than a younger man would be. He had oftenmarvelled at that fact in his professional career. Here was he, junior to thejudge by perhaps twenty years, and yet with a vastly inferior sense of self-preservation.
Mr Justice Wargrave was thinking:
‘Murdered in our beds! These doctors are all the same—they think inclichés. A thoroughly18 commonplace mind.’
The doctor said:
‘There have been three victims already, remember.’
‘Certainly. But you must remember that they were unprepared for theattack. We are forewarned.’
Dr Armstrong said bitterly:
‘What can we do? Sooner or later—’
‘I think,’ said Mr Justice Wargrave, ‘that there are several things we cando.’
Armstrong said:
‘We’ve no idea, even, who it can be—’
The judge stroked his chin and murmured:
‘Oh, you know, I wouldn’t quite say that.’
Armstrong stared at him.
‘Do you mean you know?’
Mr Justice Wargrave said cautiously:
‘As regards actual evidence, such as is necessary in court, I admit that Ihave none. But it appears to me, reviewing the whole business, that oneparticular person is sufficiently19 clearly indicated. Yes, I think so.’
Armstrong stared at him.
He said:
‘I don’t understand.’
IV
Miss Brent was upstairs in her bedroom.
She took up her Bible and went to sit by the window.
She opened it. Then, after a minute’s hesitation, she set it aside and wentover to the dressing-table. From a drawer in it she took out a small black-covered notebook.
She opened it and began writing.
‘A terrible thing has happened. General Macarthur isdead. (His cousin married Elsie MacPherson.) There is nodoubt but that he was murdered. After luncheon20 the judgemade us a most interesting speech. He is convinced thatthe murderer is one of us. That means that one of us is pos-sessed by a devil. I had already suspected that. Which of usis it? They are all asking themselves that. I alone know…’
She sat for some time without moving. Her eyes grew vague and filmy.
The pencil straggled drunkenly in her fingers. In shaking loose capitalsshe wrote:
THE MURDERER’S NAME IS BEATRICE TAYLOR…
Her eyes closed.
Suddenly, with a start, she awoke. She looked down at the notebook.
With an angry exclamation21 she scored through the vague unevenlyscrawled characters of the last sentence.
She said in a low voice:
‘Did I write that? Did I? I must be going mad…’
VThe storm increased. The wind howled against the side of the house.
Everyone was in the living-room. They sat listlessly huddled22 together.
And, surreptitiously, they watched each other.
When Rogers brought in the tea-tray, they all jumped. He said:
‘Shall I draw the curtains? It would make it more cheerful like.’
Receiving an assent23 to this, the curtains were drawn24 and the lampsturned on. The room grew more cheerful. A little of the shadow lifted.
Surely, by tomorrow, the storm would be over and someone would come—a boat would arrive…
Vera Claythorne said:
‘Will you pour out tea, Miss Brent?’
The elder woman replied:
‘No, you do it, dear. That teapot is so heavy. And I have lost two skeins ofmy grey knitting-wool. So annoying.’
Vera moved to the tea-table. There was a cheerful rattle25 and clink ofchina. Normality returned.
Tea! Bless ordinary everyday afternoon tea! Philip Lombard made acheery remark. Blore responded. Dr Armstrong told a humorous story. MrJustice Wargrave, who ordinarily hated tea, sipped26 approvingly.
Into this relaxed atmosphere came Rogers.
And Rogers was upset. He said nervously27 and at random28:
‘Excuse me, sir, but does any one know what’s become of the bathroomcurtain?’
Lombard’s head went up with a jerk.
‘The bathroom curtain? What the devil do you mean, Rogers?’
‘It’s gone, sir, clean vanished. I was going round drawing all the curtainsand the one in the lav—bathroom wasn’t there any longer.’
Mr Justice Wargrave asked:
‘Was it there this morning?’
‘Oh yes, sir.’
Blore said:
‘What kind of a curtain was it?’
‘Scarlet29 oilsilk, sir. It went with the scarlet tiles.’
Lombard said:
‘And it’s gone?’
‘Gone, sir.’
They stared at each other.
Blore said heavily:
‘Well—after all—what of it? It’s mad—but so’s everything else. Anywayit doesn’t matter. You can’t kill anybody with an oilsilk curtain. Forgetabout it.’
Rogers said:
‘Yes, sir, thank you, sir.’
He went out shutting the door behind him. Inside the room, the pall30 offear had fallen anew. Again, surreptitiously, they watched each other.
VI
Dinner came, was eaten, and cleared away. A simple meal, mostly out oftins.
Afterwards, in the living-room, the strain was almost too great to beborne.
At nine o’clock, Emily Brent rose to her feet.
She said:
‘I’m going to bed.’
Vera said:
‘I’ll go to bed too.’
The two women went up the stairs and Lombard and Blore came withthem. Standing3 at the top of the stairs, the two men watched the womengo into their respective rooms and shut the doors. They heard the sound oftwo bolts being shot and the turning of two keys.
Blore said with a grin:
‘No need to tell ’em to lock their doors!’
Lombard said:
‘Well, they’re all right for the night, at any rate!’ He went down againand the other followed him.
VII
The four men went to bed an hour later. They went up together. Rogers,from the dining-room where he was setting the table for breakfast, sawthem go up. He heard them pause on the landing above.
Then the judge’s voice spoke31.
‘I need hardly advise you, gentlemen, to lock your doors.’
Blore said:
‘And what’s more, put a chair under the handle. There are ways of turn-ing locks from the outside.’
Lombard murmured:
‘My dear Blore, the trouble with you is you know too much!’
The judge said gravely:
‘Good night, gentlemen. May we all meet safely in the morning!’
Rogers came out of the dining-room and slipped half-way up the stairs.
He saw four figures pass through four doors and heard the turning of fourlocks and the shooting of four bolts.
He nodded his head.
‘That’s all right,’ he muttered.
He went back into the dining-room. Yes, everything was ready for themorning. His eye lingered on the centre plaque32 of looking-glass and theseven little china figures.
A sudden grin transformed his face.
He murmured:
‘I’ll see no one plays tricks tonight, at any rate.’
Crossing the room he locked the door to the pantry. Then going throughthe other door to the hall he pulled the door to, locked it and slipped thekey into his pocket.
Then, extinguishing the lights, he hurried up the stairs and into his newbedroom.
There was only one possible hiding-place in it, the tall wardrobe, and helooked into that immediately. Then, locking and bolting the door, he pre-pared for bed.
He said to himself:
‘No more china-soldier tricks tonight. I’ve seen to that…’
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收听单词发音
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1
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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sanest
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| adj.心智健全的( sane的最高级 )；神志正常的；明智的；稳健的 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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6
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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clearance
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| n.净空；许可(证)；清算；清除，清理 | |
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8
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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9
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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11
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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13
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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14
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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15
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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16
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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17
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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18
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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19
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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20
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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21
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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22
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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24
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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26
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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28
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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29
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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30
pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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31
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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32
plaque
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| n.饰板，匾，(医)血小板 | |
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