“I’m sure, Marshall, that you’ll appreciate my reasons for asking you tocome here and have this conference.”
“Yes, certainly,” said Mr. Marshall. “The fact is that if you had not pro-posed it, Mr. Argyle, I should myself have suggested coming down. The an-nouncement was in all the morning papers this morning and there is nodoubt at all that it will lead to a revival1 of interest in the case on the partof the Press.”
“We’ve already had a few of them ringing up and asking for interviews,”
said Mary Durrant.
“Quite so, it was only to be expected, I feel. I should advise that you takeup the position that you have no comment to make. Naturally you are de-lighted and thankful, but you prefer not to discuss the matter.”
“Superintendent Huish, who was in charge of the case at the time, hasasked to come and have an interview with us tomorrow morning,” saidLeo.
“Yes. Yes, I’m afraid there will have to be a certain amount of reopeningof the case, though I really cannot think that the police can have muchhope of arriving at any tangible2 result. After all, two years have passedand anything that people might have remembered at the time—people inthe village, I mean—will by now have been forgotten. A pity, of course, insome ways, but it can’t be helped.”
“The whole thing seems quite clear,” said Mary Durrant. “The house wassecurely locked up against burglars but if anyone had come appealing tomy mother over some special case or pretending to be a friend or friendsof hers I have no doubt that person would have been admitted. That, Ithink, is what must have happened. My father here thought he heard aring at the bell just after seven o’clock.”
Marshall turned his head enquiringly to Leo.
“Yes, I think I did say so,” said Leo. “Of course, I can’t remember veryclearly now, but at the time I was under the impression that I heard thebell. I was ready to go down and then I thought I heard the door open andclose. There was no sound of voices or any question of anyone forcing anentry or behaving abusively. That I think I should have heard.”
“Quite so, quite so,” said Mr. Marshall. “Yes, I think there’s no doubt thatthat is what must have happened. Alas3, we know only too well the largenumber of unprincipled persons gaining admission to a house by a plaus-ible tale of distress4, and who having gained admission are willing to coshthe householder and make off with what money they can find. Yes, I thinkthat we must assume now that that is what did happen.”
He spoke5 in too persuasive6 a voice. He looked round the little assemblyas he spoke, noting them carefully, and labelling them in his meticulousmind. Mary Durrant, good- looking, unimaginative, untroubled, evenslightly aloof7, apparently8 quite sure of herself. Behind her in his wheel-chair, her husband. An intelligent fellow, Philip Durrant, Marshall thoughtto himself. A man who might have done a good deal and gone far had itnot been for his unreliable judgment9 in all matters of business. He wasnot, Marshall thought, taking all this as calmly as his wife was. His eyeswere alert and thoughtful. He realized, none better, the implications of thewhole matter. Of course, though, Mary Durrant might not be as calm asshe appeared to be. Both as a girl and a woman, she had always been ableto conceal10 her feelings.
As Philip Durrant moved slightly in his chair, his bright, intelligent eyeswatching the lawyer with a faint mockery in them, Mary turned her headsharply. The complete adoration11 of the look she gave her husband almoststartled the lawyer. He had known, of course, that Mary Durrant was a de-voted wife, but he had so long considered her as a calm, rather passionlesscreature without strong affections or dislikes that he was surprised at thissudden revelation. So that was how she felt about the fellow, was it? As forPhilip Durrant, he seemed uneasy. Apprehensive12, Marshall thought, aboutthe future. As well he might be!
Opposite the lawyer sat Micky. Young, handsome, bitter. Why had he gotto be so bitter, Marshall thought parenthetically? Hadn’t everything beendone for him always? Why did he have to have this look of one who wasperpetually against the world. Beside him sat Tina looking rather like asmall elegant black cat. Very dark, soft-voiced, big dark eyes and a rathersinuous grace of movement. Quiet, yet perhaps emotional behind thequietness? Marshall really knew very little about Tina. She had taken upthe work suggested to her by Mrs. Argyle, as a librarian in the County Lib-rary. She had a flat in Redmyn and came home at weekends. Apparently adocile and contented13 member of the family. But who knew? Anyway, shewas out of it or ought to be. She had not been here that evening. Though,for all that, Redmyn was only twenty-five miles away. Still presumablyTina and Micky had been out of it.
Marshall swept a quick glance over Kirsten Lindstrom, who was watch-ing him with a touch of belligerence14 in her manner. Supposing, hethought, it was she who had gone berserk and attacked her employer? Itwouldn’t really surprise him. Nothing really surprised you when you’dbeen in the law a number of years. They’d have a word for it in the mod-ern jargon15. Repressed spinster. Envious16, jealous, nursing grievances17 realor fancied. Oh yes, they had a word for it. And how very convenient itwould be, thought Mr. Marshall rather improperly18. Yes, very convenient.
A foreigner. Not one of the family. But would Kirsten Lindstrom have de-liberately framed Jacko; have heard the quarrel and taken advantage of it?
That was a great deal more difficult to believe. For Kirsten Lindstrom ad-ored Jacko. She had always been devoted19 to all the children. No, he couldnot believe that of her. A pity because—but really he must not let histhoughts go along that line.
His glance went on to Leo Argyle and Gwenda Vaughan. Their engage-ment had not been announced, which was just as well. A wise decision. Hehad actually written and hinted as much. Of course it was probably anopen secret locally and no doubt the police were on to it. From the point ofview of the police it was the right kind of answer. Innumerable preced-ents. Husband, wife, and the other woman. Only, somehow or other, Mar-shall could not believe that Leo Argyle had attacked his wife. No, he reallycouldn’t believe it. After all, he had known Leo Argyle for a number ofyears and he had the highest opinion of him. An intellectual. A man ofwarm sympathies, deep reading and an aloof philosophical20 outlook uponlife. Not the sort of man to murder his wife with a poker21. Of course, at acertain age, when a man fell in love—but no! That was newspaper stuff.
Pleasant reading, apparently, for Sundays all over the British Isles22! Butreally, one could not imagine Leo….
What about the woman? He didn’t know so much about GwendaVaughan. He observed the full lips and the ripe figure. She was in lovewith Leo all right. Oh yes, probably been in love with him for a long time.
What about a divorce, he wondered. What would Mrs. Argyle have feltabout divorce? Really he had no idea, but he didn’t think the idea wouldappeal to Leo Argyle, who was one of the old-fashioned type. He didn’tthink that Gwenda Vaughan was Leo Argyle’s mistress, which made it allthe more probable that if Gwenda Vaughan had seen a chance to elimin-ate Mrs. Argyle with the certainty that no suspicion would attach to her—he paused before continuing the thought. Would she have sacrificed Jackowithout a qualm? He didn’t really think she had ever been very fond ofJacko. Jacko’s charm had not appealed to her. And women—Mr. Marshallknew only too well — were ruthless. So one couldn’t rule out GwendaVaughan. It was very doubtful after this time if the police would ever getany evidence. He didn’t see what evidence there could be against her. Shehad been in the house that day, she had been with Leo in his library, shehad said good night to him and left him and gone down the stairs. Therewas no one who could say whether or not she had gone aside into Mrs.
Argyle’s sitting room, picked up that poker and walked up behind the un-suspecting woman as she bent23 over papers on the desk. And then after-wards, Mrs. Argyle having been struck down without a cry, all GwendaVaughan had to do was to throw down the poker and let herself out of thefront door and go home, just as she always did. He couldn’t see any possib-ility of the police or anyone else finding out if that was what she had done.
His eyes went on to Hester. A pretty child. No, not pretty, beautifulreally. Beautiful in a rather strange and uncomfortable way. He’d like toknow who her parents had been. Something lawless and wild about her.
Yes, one could almost use the word desperate in connection with her.
What had she had to be desperate about? She’d run away in a silly way togo on the stage and had had a silly affair with an undesirable24 man; thenshe had seen reason, come home with Mrs. Argyle and settled down again.
All the same, you couldn’t really rule out Hester, because you didn’t knowhow her mind worked. You didn’t know what a strange moment of des-peration might do to her. But the police wouldn’t know either.
In fact, thought Mr. Marshall, it seemed very unlikely that the police,even if they made up their own minds as to who was responsible, couldreally do anything about it. So that on the whole the position was satisfact-ory. Satisfactory? He gave a little start as he considered the word. But wasit? Was stalemate really a satisfactory outcome to the whole thing? Did theArgyles know the truth themselves, he wondered. He decided25 against that.
They didn’t know. Apart, of course, from one person amongst them whopresumably knew only too well … No, they didn’t know, but did they sus-pect? Well, if they didn’t suspect now, they soon would, because if youdidn’t know you couldn’t help wondering, trying to remember things …Uncomfortable. Yes, yes, a very uncomfortable position.
All these thoughts had not taken very much time. Mr. Marshall came outof his little reverie to see Micky’s eyes fixed26 on him with a mocking gleamin them.
“So that’s your verdict, is it, Mr. Marshall?” Micky said. “The outsider,the unknown intruder, the bad character who murders, robs and getsaway with it?”
“It seems,” said Mr. Marshall, “as though that is what we will have to ac-cept.”
Micky threw himself back in his chair and laughed.
“That’s our story, and we’re going to stick to it, eh?”
“Well, yes, Michael, that is what I should advise.” There was a distinctnote of warning in Mr. Marshall’s voice.
Micky nodded his head.
“I see,” he said. “That’s what you advise. Yes. Yes, I dare say you’re quiteright. But you don’t believe it, do you?”
Mr. Marshall gave him a very cold look. That was the trouble withpeople who had no legal sense of discretion27. They inisted on saying thingswhich were much better not said.
“For what it is worth,” he said, “that is my opinion.”
The finality of his tone held a world of reproof28. Micky looked round thetable.
“What do we all think?” he asked generally. “Eh, Tina, my love, lookingdown your nose in your quiet way, haven’t you any ideas? Any unauthor-ized versions, so to speak? And you, Mary? You haven’t said much.”
“Of course I agree with Mr. Marshall,” said Mary rather sharply. “Whatother solution can there be?”
“Philip doesn’t agree with you,” said Micky.
Mary turned her head sharply to look at her husband. Philip Durrantsaid quietly:
“You’d better hold your tongue, Micky. No good ever came of talking toomuch when you’re in a tight place. And we are in a tight place.”
“So nobody’s going to have any opinions, are they?” said Micky. “Allright. So be it. But let’s all think about it a bit when we go up to bed to-night. It might be advisable, you know. After all, one wants to know whereone is, so to speak. Don’t you know a thing or two, Kirsty? You usually do.
As far as I remember, you always knew what was going on, though I willsay for you, you never told.”
Kirsten Lindstrom said, not without dignity:
“I think, Micky, that you should hold your tongue. Mr. Marshall is right.
Too much talking is unwise.”
“We might put it to the vote,” said Micky. “Or write a name on a piece ofpaper and throw it into a hat. That would be interesting, wouldn’t it; to seewho got the votes?”
This time Kirsten Lindstrom’s voice was louder.
“Be quiet,” she said. “Do not be a silly, reckless little boy as you used tobe. You are grown up now.”
“I only said let’s think about it,” said Micky, taken aback.
We shall think about it,” said Kirsten Lindstrom.
And her voice was bitter.
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收听单词发音
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1
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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3
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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4
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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5
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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6
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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7
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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8
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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9
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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11
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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12
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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14
belligerence
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| n.交战，好战性，斗争性 | |
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15
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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16
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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17
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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18
improperly
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| 不正确地，不适当地 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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21
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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22
isles
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| 岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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23
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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24
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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25
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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27
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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28
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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