“Well, here I am,” thought Frankie. “Safely in the enemy’s camp. Now, it’sup to me.”
There was a tap on the door and Mrs. Bassington-ffrench entered.
Frankie raised herself a little on her pillows.
“I’m so frightfully sorry,” she said in a faint voice. “Causing you all thisbother.”
“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Bassington-ffrench. Frankie heard anew that coolattractive drawling voice with a slight American accent, and rememberedthat Lord Marchington had said that one of the Hampshire Bassington-ffrenches had married an American heiress. “Dr. Arbuthnot says you willbe quite all right in a day or two if you just keep quiet.”
Frankie felt that she ought at this point to say something about “error”
or “mortal mind,” but was frightened of saying the wrong thing.
“He seems nice,” she said. “He was very kind.”
“He seemed a most capable young man,” said Mrs. Bassington-ffrench.
“It was very fortunate that he just happened to be passing.”
“Yes, wasn’t it? Not, of course, that I really needed him.”
“But you mustn’t talk,” continued her hostess. “I’ll send my maid alongwith some things for you and then she can get you properly into bed.”
“It’s frightfully kind of you.”
“Not at all.”
Frankie felt a momentary1 qualm as the other woman withdrew.
“A nice kind creature,” she said to herself. “And beautifully unsuspect-ing.”
For the first time she felt that she was playing a mean trick on her host-ess. Her mind had been so taken up with the vision of a murderousBassington-ffrench pushing an unsuspecting victim over a precipice2 thatlesser characters in the drama had not entered her imagination.
“Oh, well,” thought Frankie, “I’ve got to go through with it now. But Iwish she hadn’t been so nice about it.”
She spent a dull afternoon and evening lying in her darkened room.
Mrs. Bassington-ffrench looked in once or twice to see how she was butdid not stay.
The next day, however, Frankie admitted the daylight and expressed adesire for company and her hostess came and sat with her for some time.
They discovered many mutual3 acquaintances and friends and by the endof the day, Frankie felt, with a guilty qualm, that they had become friends.
Mrs. Bassington-ffrench referred several times to her husband and toher small boy, Tommy. She seemed a simple woman, deeply attached toher home, and yet, for some reason or other, Frankie fancied that she wasnot quite happy. There was an anxious expression in her eyes sometimesthat did not agree with a mind at peace with itself.
On the third day Frankie got up and was introduced to the master of thehouse.
He was a big man, heavy jowled, with a kindly5 but rather abstracted air.
He seemed to spend a good deal of his time shut up in his study. YetFrankie judged him to be very fond of his wife, though interesting himselfvery little in her concerns.
Tommy, the small boy, was seven, and a healthy, mischievous6 child.
Sylvia Bassington-ffrench obviously adored him.
“It’s so nice down here,” said Frankie with a sigh.
She was lying out on a long chair in the garden.
“I don’t know whether it’s the bang on the head, or what it is, but I justdon’t feel I want to move. I’d like to lie here for days and days.”
“Well, do,” said Sylvia Bassington-ffrench in her calm, incurious tones.
“No, really, I mean it. Don’t hurry back to town. You see,” she went on, “it’sa great pleasure to me to have you here. You’re so bright and amusing. Itquite cheers me up.”
“So she needs cheering up,” flashed across Frankie’s mind.
At the same time she felt ashamed of herself.
“I feel we really have become friends,” continued the other woman.
Frankie felt still more ashamed.
It was a mean thing she was doing—mean—mean—mean. She wouldgive it up! Go back to town—
Her hostess went on:
“It won’t be too dull here. Tomorrow my brother-in-law is coming back.
You’ll like him, I’m sure. Everyone likes Roger.”
“He lives with you?”
“Off and on. He’s a restless creature. He calls himself the ne’er-do-weelof the family, and perhaps it’s true in a way. He never sticks to a job forlong—in fact I don’t believe he’s ever done any real work in his life. Butsome people just are like that—especially in old families. And they’re usu-ally people with a great charm of manner. Roger is wonderfully sympath-etic. I don’t know what I should have done without him this spring whenTommy was ill.”
“What was the matter with Tommy?”
“He had a bad fall from the swing. It must have been tied on to a rottenbranch and the branch gave way. Roger was very upset because he wasswinging the child at the time—you know, giving him high ones, such aschildren love. We thought at first Tommy’s spine7 was hurt, but it turnedout to be a very slight injury and he’s quite all right now.”
“He certainly looks it,” said Frankie, smiling, as she heard faint yells andwhoops in the distance.
“I know. He seems in perfect condition. It’s such a relief. He’s had badluck in accidents. He was nearly drowned last winter.”
“Was he really?” said Frankie thoughtfully.
She no longer meditated8 returning to town. The feeling of guilt4 hadabated.
Accidents!
Did Roger Bassington-ffrench specialize in accidents, she wondered.
She said:
“If you’re sure you mean it, I’d love to stay a little longer. But won’t yourhusband mind my butting9 in like this?”
“Henry?” Mrs. Bassington-ffrench’s lips curled in a strange expression.
“No, Henry won’t mind. Henry never minds anything—nowadays.”
Frankie looked at her curiously10.
“If she knew me better she’d tell me something,” she thought to herself.
“I believe there are lots of odd things going on in this household.”
Henry Bassington-ffrench joined them for tea and Frankie studied himclosely. There was certainly something odd about the man. His type wasan obvious one — a jovial11, sport- loving, simple country gentleman. Butsuch a man ought not to sit twitching12 nervously13, his nerves obviously onedge, now sunk in an abstraction from which it was impossible to rousehim, now giving out bitter and sarcastic14 replies to anything said to him.
Not that he was always like that. Later that evening, at dinner, he showedout in quite a new light. He joked, laughed, told stories, and was, for a manof his abilities, quite brilliant. Too brilliant, Frankie felt. The brilliancewas just as unnatural15 and out of character.
“He has such queer eyes,” she thought. “They frighten me a little.”
And yet surely she did not suspect Henry Bassington- ffrench of any-thing? It was his brother, not he, who had been in Marchbolt on that fatalday.
As to the brother, Frankie looked forward to seeing him with eager in-terest. According to her and to Bobby, the man was a murderer. She wasgoing to meet a murderer face to face.
She felt momentarily nervous.
Yet, after all, how could he guess?
How could he, in any way, connect her with a successfully accomplishedcrime?
“You’re making a bogey16 for yourself out of nothing,” she said to herself.
Roger Bassington-ffrench arrived just before tea on the following after-noon.
Frankie did not meet him till tea time. She was still supposed to “rest” inthe afternoon.
When she came out on to the lawn where tea was laid, Sylvia said smil-ing:
“Here is our invalid17. This is my brother-in-law, Lady Frances Derwent.”
Frankie saw a tall, slender young man of something over thirty withvery pleasant eyes. Although she could see what Bobby meant by sayinghe ought to have a monocle and a toothbrush moustache, she herself wasmore inclined to notice the intense blue of his eyes. They shook hands.
He said: “I’ve been hearing all about the way you tried to break downthe park wall.”
“I’ll admit,” said Frankie, “that I’m the world’s worst driver. But I wasdriving an awful old rattletrap. My own car was laid up and I bought acheap one secondhand.”
“She was rescued from the ruins by a very good-looking young doctor,”
said Sylvia.
“He was rather sweet,” agreed Frankie.
Tommy arrived at this moment and flung himself upon his uncle withsqueaks of joy.
“Have you brought me a Hornby train? You said you would. You saidyou would.”
“Oh, Tommy! You mustn’t ask for things,” said Sylvia.
“That’s all right, Sylvia. It was a promise. I’ve got your train all right, oldman.” He looked casually18 at his sister-in-law. “Isn’t Henry coming to tea?”
“I don’t think so.” The constrained19 note was in her voice. “He isn’t feel-ing awfully20 well today, I imagine.”
Then she said impulsively21:
“Oh, Roger, I’m glad you’re back.”
He put his hand on her arm for a minute.
“That’s all right, Sylvia, old girl.”
After tea, Roger played trains with his nephew.
Frankie watched them, her mind in a turmoil22.
Surely this wasn’t the sort of man to push people over cliffs! This charm-ing young man couldn’t be a cold-blooded murderer!
But, then—she and Bobby must have been wrong all along. Wrong, thatis, about this part of it.
She felt sure now that it wasn’t Bassington- ffrench who had pushedPritchard over the cliff.
Then who was it?
She was still convinced he had been pushed over. Who had done it? Andwho had put the morphia in Bobby’s beer?
With the thought of morphia suddenly the explanation of HenryBassington-ffrench’s peculiar23 eyes came to her, with their pinpoint24 pupils.
Was Henry Bassington-ffrench a drug fiend?
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收听单词发音
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1
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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2
precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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3
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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4
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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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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6
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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7
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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8
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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9
butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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10
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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11
jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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12
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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14
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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15
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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16
bogey
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| n.令人谈之变色之物；妖怪，幽灵 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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22
turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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23
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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pinpoint
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| vt.准确地确定；用针标出…的精确位置 | |
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