Frankie rang up Bobby about an hour later.
“Is that Hawkins? Hullo, Bobby—have you heard what has happened?
You have. Quick, we must meet somewhere. Early tomorrow morningwould be best, I think. I’ll stroll out before breakfast. Say eight o’clock—the same place we met today.”
She rang off as Bobby uttered his third respectful “Yes, your ladyship,”
for the benefit of any curious ears.
Bobby arrived at the rendezvous1 first, but Frankie did not keep himwaiting long. She looked pale and upset.
“Hullo, Bobby, isn’t it awful? I haven’t been able to sleep all night.”
“I haven’t heard any details,” said Bobby. “Just that Mr. Bassington-ffrench had shot himself. That’s right, I suppose?”
“Yes. Sylvia had been talking to him — persuading him to agree to acourse of treatment and he said he would. Afterwards, I suppose, his cour-age must have failed him. He went into his study, locked the door, wrote afew words on a sheet of paper—and—shot himself. Bobby, it’s too ghastly.
It’s—it’s grim.”
“I know,” said Bobby quietly.
They were both silent for a little.
“I shall have to leave today, of course,” said Frankie presently.
“Yes, I suppose you will. How is she—Mrs. Bassington-ffrench, I mean?”
“She’s collapsed2, poor soul. I haven’t seen her since we—we found thebody. The shock to her must have been awful.”
Bobby nodded.
“You’d better bring the car round about eleven,” continued Frankie.
Bobby did not answer. Frankie looked at him impatiently.
“What’s the matter with you, Bobby? You look as though you were milesaway.”
“Sorry. As a matter of fact—”
“Yes?”
“Well, I was just wondering. I suppose—well, I suppose it’s all right?”
“What do you mean—all right?”
“I mean it’s quite certain that he did commit suicide?”
“Oh!” said Frankie. “I see.” She thought a minute. “Yes,” she said, “it wassuicide all right.”
“You’re quite sure? You see, Frankie, we have Moira’s word for it thatNicholson wanted two people out of the way. Well, here’s one of themgone.”
Frankie thought again, but once more she shook her head.
“It must be suicide,” she said. “I was in the garden with Roger when weheard the shot. We both ran straight in through the drawing room to thehall. The study door was locked on the inside. We went round to the win-dow. That was fastened also and Roger had to smash it. It wasn’t till thenthat Nicholson appeared upon the scene.”
Bobby reflected upon this information.
“It looks all right,” he agreed. “But Nicholson seems to have appeared onthe scene very suddenly.”
“He’d left a stick behind earlier in the afternoon and had come back forit.”
Bobby was frowning with the process of thought.
“Listen, Frankie. Suppose that actually Nicholson shot Bassington-ffrench—”
“Having induced him first to write a suicide’s letter of farewell?”
“I should think that would be the easiest thing in the world to fake. Anyalteration in handwriting would be put down to agitation3.”
“Yes, that’s true. Go on with your theory.”
“Nicholson shoots Bassington- ffrench, leaves the farewell letter, andnips out locking the door—to appear again a few minutes later as thoughhe had just arrived.”
Frankie shook her head regretfully.
“It’s a good idea—but it won’t work. To begin with, the key was in HenryBassington-ffrench’s pocket—”
“Who found it there?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, Nicholson did.”
“There you are. What’s easier for him than to pretend to find it there.”
“I was watching him—remember. I’m sure the key was in the pocket.”
“That’s what one says when one watches a conjurer. You see the rabbitbeing put into the hat! If Nicholson is a high-class criminal, a simple littlebit of sleight4 of hand like that would be child’s play to him.”
“Well, you may be right about that, but honestly, Bobby, the wholething’s impossible. Sylvia Bassington- ffrench was actually in the housewhen the shot was fired. The moment she heard it she ran out into thehall. If Nicholson had fired the shot and come out through the study doorshe would have been bound to see him. Besides, she told us that he actu-ally came up the drive to the front door. She saw him coming as we ranround the house and went to meet him and brought him round to thestudy window. No, Bobby, I hate to say it, but the man has an alibi5.”
“On principle, I distrust people who have alibis,” said Bobby.
“So do I. But I don’t see how you can get round this one.”
“No. Sylvia Bassington-ffrench’s word ought to be good enough.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Well,” said Bobby with a sigh. “I suppose we’ll have to leave it at sui-cide. Poor devil. What’s the next angle of attack, Frankie?”
“The Caymans,” said Frankie. “I can’t think how we’ve been so remiss6 asnot to have looked them up before. You’ve kept the address Cayman wrotefrom, haven’t you?”
“Yes. It’s the same they gave at the inquest. 17 St. Leonard’s Gardens,Paddington.”
“Don’t you agree that we’ve rather neglected that channel of inquiry7?”
“Absolutely. All the same, you know, Frankie, I’ve got a very shrewdidea that you’ll find the birds flown. I should imagine that the Caymansweren’t exactly born yesterday.”
“Even if they have gone off, I may find out something about them.”
“Why—I?”
“Because, once again, I don’t think you’d better appear in the matter. It’slike coming down here when we thought Roger was the bad man of theshow. You are known to them and I am not.”
“And how do your propose to make their acquaintance?” asked Bobby.
“I shall be something political,” said Frankie. “Canvassing for the Con-servative Party. I shall arrive with leaflets.”
“Good enough,” said Bobby. “But, as I said before, I think you’ll find thebirds flown. Now there’s another thing that requires to be thought of—Moira.”
“Goodness,” said Frankie, “I’d forgotten all about her.”
“So I noticed,” said Bobby with a trace of coldness in his manner.
“You’re right,” said Frankie thoughtfully. “Something must be doneabout her.”
Bobby nodded. The strange haunting face came up before his eyes.
There was something tragic8 about it. He had always felt that from the firstmoment when he had taken the photograph from Alan Carstairs’ pocket.
“If you’d seen her that night when I first went to the Grange!” he said.
“She was crazy with fear — and I tell you, Frankie, she’s right. It’s notnerves or imagination, or anything like that. If Nicholson wants to marrySylvia Bassington-ffrench, two obstacles have got to go. One’s gone. I’ve afeeling that Moira’s life is hanging by a hair and that any delay may befatal.”
Frankie was sobered by the earnestness of his words.
“My dear, you’re right,” she said. “We must act quickly. What shall wedo?”
“We must persuade her to leave the Grange—at once.”
Frankie nodded.
“I tell you what,” she said. “She’d better go down to Wales—to the Castle.
Heaven knows, she ought to be safe enough there.”
“If you can fix that, Frankie, nothing could be better.”
“Well, it’s simple enough. Father never notices who goes or comes. He’lllike Moira—nearly any man would—she’s so feminine. It’s extraordinaryhow men like helpless women.”
“I don’t think Moira is particularly helpless,” said Bobby.
“Nonsense. She’s like a little bird that sits and waits to be eaten by asnake without doing anything about it.”
“What could she do?”
“Heaps of things,” said Frankie vigorously.
“Well, I don’t see it. She’s got no money, no friends—”
“My dear, don’t drone on as though you were recommending a case tothe Girls’ Friendly Society.”
“Sorry,” said Bobby.
There was an offended pause.
“Well,” said Frankie, recovering her temper. “As you were. I think we’dbetter get on to this business as soon as possible.”
“So do I,” said Bobby. “Really, Frankie, it’s awfully9 decent of you to—”
“That’s all right,” said Frankie interrupting him. “I don’t mind befriend-ing the girl so long as you don’t drivel on about her as though she had nohands or feet or tongue or brains.”
“I simply don’t know what you mean,” said Bobby.
“Well, we needn’t talk about it,” said Frankie. “Now, my idea is thatwhatever we’re going to do we’d better do it quickly. Is that a quotation10?”
“It’s a paraphrase11 of one. Go on, Lady Macbeth.”
“You know, I’ve always thought,” said Frankie, suddenly digressingwildly from the matter in hand, “that Lady Macbeth incited12 Macbeth to doall those murders simply and solely13 because she was so frightfully boredwith life—and incidentally with Macbeth. I’m sure he was one of thosemeek, inoffensive men who drive their wives distracted with boredom14.
But, having once committed a murder for the first time in his life, he feltthe hell of a fine fellow and began to develop ego15 mania16 as a compensa-tion for his former inferiority complex.”
“You ought to write a book on the subject, Frankie.”
“I can’t spell. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, rescue of Moira. You’d bet-ter bring the car round at half past ten. I’ll drive over to the Grange, askfor Moira and, if Nicholson’s there when I see her, I’ll remind her of herpromise to come and stay with me and carry her off then and there.”
“Excellent, Frankie. I’m glad we’re not going to waste any time. I’ve ahorror of another accident happening.”
“Half past ten, then,” said Frankie.
By the time she got back to Merroway Court, it was half past nine.
Breakfast had just been brought in and Roger was pouring himself outsome coffee. He looked ill and worn.
“Good morning,” said Frankie. “I slept awfully badly. In the end I got upabout seven and went for a walk.”
“I’m frightfully sorry you should have been let in for all this worry,” saidRoger.
“How’s Sylvia?”
“They gave her an opiate last night. She’s still asleep, I believe. Poor girl,I’m most terribly sorry for her. She was simply devoted17 to Henry.”
“I know.”
Frankie paused and then explained her plans for departure.
“I suppose you’ll have to go,” said Roger resentfully. “The inquest’s onFriday. I’ll let you know if you’re wanted for it. It all depends on the cor-oner.”
He swallowed a cup of coffee and a piece of toast and then went off toattend to the many things requiring his attention. Frankie felt very sorryfor him. The amount of gossip and curiosity created by a suicide in a fam-ily she could imagine only too well. Tommy appeared and she devotedherself to amusing the child.
Bobby brought the car round at half past ten; Frankie’s luggage wasbrought down. She said good-bye to Tommy and left a note for Sylvia. TheBentley drove away.
They covered the distance to the Grange in a very short time. Frankiehad never been there before and the big iron gates and the overgrownshrubbery depressed18 her spirits.
“It’s a creepy place,” she observed. “I don’t wonder Moira gets the hor-rors here.”
They drove up to the front door and Bobby got down and rang the bell.
It was not answered for some minutes. Finally a woman in nurse’s kitopened it.
“Mrs. Nicholson?” said Bobby.
The woman hesitated, then withdrew into the hall and opened the doorwider. Frankie jumped out of the car and passed into the house. The doorclosed behind her. It had a nasty echoing clang as it shut. Frankie noticedthat it had heavy bolts and bars across it. Quite irrationally19 she felt afraid—as though she was here, in this sinister20 house, a prisoner.
“Nonsense,” she told herself. “Bobby’s outside in the car. I’ve come hereopenly. Nothing can happen to me.” And, shaking off the ridiculous feel-ing, she followed the nurse upstairs and along a passage. The nurse threwopen a door and Frankie passed into a small sitting room daintily fur-nished with cheerful chintzes and flowers in the vases. Her spirits rose.
Murmuring something, the nurse withdrew.
About five minutes passed and the door opened and Dr. Nicholson camein.
Frankie was quite unable to control a slight nervous start, but shemasked it by a welcoming smile and shook hands.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning, Lady Frances. You have not come to bring me bad newsof Mrs. Bassington-ffrench, I hope?”
“She was still asleep when I left,” said Frankie.
“Poor lady. Her own doctor is, of course, looking after her.”
“Oh! yes.” She paused, then said: “I’m sure you’re busy. I mustn’t take upyour time, Dr. Nicholson. I really called to see your wife.”
“To see Moira? That was very kind of you.”
Was it only fancy, or did the pale-blue eyes behind the strong glassesharden ever so slightly.
“Yes,” he repeated. “That was very kind.”
“If she isn’t up yet,” said Frankie, smiling pleasantly, “I’ll sit down andwait.”
“Oh! she’s up,” said Dr. Nicholson.
“Good,” said Frankie. “I want to persuade her to come to me for a visit.
She’s practically promised to.” She smiled again.
“Why, now, that’s really very kind of you, Lady Frances—very kind, in-deed. I’m sure Moira would have enjoyed that very much.”
“Would have?” asked Frankie sharply.
Dr. Nicholson smiled, showing his fine set of even white teeth.
“Unfortunately, my wife went away this morning.”
“Went away?” said Frankie blankly. “Where?”
“Oh! just for a little change. You know what women are, Lady Frances.
This is rather a gloomy place for a young woman. Occasionally Moira feelsshe must have a little excitement and then off she goes.”
“You don’t know where she has gone?” said Frankie.
“London, I imagine. Shops and theatres. You know the sort of thing.”
Frankie felt that his smile was the most disagreeable thing she had evercome across.
“I am going up to London today,” she said lightly. “Will you give me heraddress?”
“She usually stays at the Savoy,” said Dr. Nicholson. “But in any case Ishall probably hear from her in a day or so. She’s not a very good corres-pondent, I’m afraid, and I believe in perfect liberty between husband andwife. But I think the Savoy is the most likely place for you to find her.”
He held the door open and Frankie found herself shaking hands withhim and being ushered21 to the front door. The nurse was standing22 there tolet her out. The last thing Frankie heard was Dr. Nicholson’s voice, suaveand, perhaps, just a trifle ironical23.
“So very kind of you to think of asking my wife to stay, Lady Frances.”
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收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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2
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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4
sleight
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| n.技巧，花招 | |
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5
alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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6
remiss
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| adj.不小心的，马虎 | |
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7
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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8
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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9
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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10
quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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11
paraphrase
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| vt.将…释义，改写；n.释义，意义 | |
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12
incited
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| 刺激，激励，煽动( incite的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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14
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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15
ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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16
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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17
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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18
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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19
irrationally
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| ad.不理性地 | |
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20
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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21
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
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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23
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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