I
Night settled down on Sunny Point.
Sheltered by its walls, seven people retired1 to rest, but none of themslept well….
II
Philip Durrant, since his illness and his loss of bodily activity, had foundmore and more solace2 in mental activity. Always a highly intelligent man,he now became conscious of the resources opening out to him through themedium of intelligence. He amused himself sometimes by forecasting thereactions of those around him to suitable stimuli3. What he said and didwas often not a natural outpouring, but a calculated one, motivated simplyand solely4 to observe the response to it. It was a kind of game that heplayed; when he got the anticipated response, he chalked up, as it were, amark to himself.
As a result of this pastime he found himself, for perhaps the first time inhis life, keenly observant of the differences and realities of human person-ality.
Human personalities5 as such had not previously6 interested him verymuch. He liked or disliked, was amused or bored by, the people who sur-rounded him or whom he met. He had always been a man of action, andnot a man of thought. His imagination, which was considerable, had beenexercised in devising various schemes for making money. All theseschemes had a sound core; but a complete lack of business ability alwaysresulted in their coming to nothing. People, as such, had up till now onlybeen considered by him as pawns7 in the game. Now, since his illness cuthim off from his former active life, he was forced to take account of whatpeople themselves were like.
It had started in the hospital when the love lives of the nurses, the secretwarfare and the petty grievances8 of hospital life had been forced on his at-tention since there was nothing else to occupy it. And now it was fast be-coming a habit with him. People—really that was all that life held for himnow. Just people. People to study, to find out about, to sum up. Decide forhimself what made them tick and find out if he was right. Really, it couldall be very interesting….
Only this very evening, sitting in the library, he had realized how littlehe really knew about his wife’s family. What were they really like? Whatwere they like inside, that is, not their outer appearance which he knewwell enough.
Odd, how little you knew about people. Even your own wife?
He had looked thoughtfully over at Mary. How much did he really knowabout Mary?
He had fallen in love with her because he liked her good looks and hercalm, serious ways. Also, she had had money and that mattered to himtoo. He would have thought twice about marrying a penniless girl. It hadall been most suitable and he had married her and teased her and calledher Polly and had enjoyed the doubtful look she gave him when he madejokes she could not see. But what, really, did he know about her? Of whatshe thought and felt? He knew, certainly, that she loved him with a deepand passionate9 devotion. And at the thought of that devotion he stirred alittle uneasily, twisting his shoulders as though to ease them of a burden.
Devotion was all very well when you could get away from it for nine orten hours of the day. It was a nice thing to come home to. But now he waslapped round with it; watched over, cared for, cherished. It made oneyearn for a little wholesome10 neglect … One had, in fact, to find ways to es-cape. Mental ways—since none other were possible. One had to escape torealms of fancy or speculation11.
Speculation. As to who was responsible for his mother-in-law’s death,for instance. He had disliked his mother-in-law, and she had disliked him.
She had not wanted Mary to marry him (would she have wanted Mary tomarry anybody? he wondered), but she had not been able to prevent it. Heand Mary had started life happy and independent—and then things hadbegun to go wrong. First that South American company—and then the Bi-cycle Accessories Ltd—good ideas both of them—but the financing of themhad been badly judged—and then there had been the Argentine railwaystrike which had completed the disasters. All purely12 bad luck, but in someway he felt that somehow Mrs. Argyle was responsible. She hadn’t wishedhim to succeed. Then had come his illness. It had looked as though theironly solution was to come and live at Sunny Point where a welcome wasassured to them. He wouldn’t have minded particularly. A man who was acripple, only half a man, what did it matter where he was?—but Marywould have minded.
Oh well, it hadn’t been necessary to live permanently13 at Sunny Point.
Mrs. Argyle had been killed. The Trustees had raised the allowance madeto Mary under the Trust and they had set up on their own again.
He hadn’t felt any particular grief over Mrs. Argyle’s death. Pleasanter,of course, if she had died of pneumonia14 or something like that, in her bed.
Murder was a nasty business with its notoriety and its screaming head-lines. Still, as murders go, it had been quite a satisfactory murder—theperpetrator obviously having a screw loose in a way that could be servedup decently in a lot of psychological jargon15. Not Mary’s own brother. Oneof those “adopted children” with a bad heredity who so often go wrong.
But things weren’t quite so good now. Tomorrow Superintendent16 Huishwas coming to ask questions in his gentle West Country voice. One ought,perhaps, to think about the answers….
Mary was brushing her long fair hair in front of the mirror. Somethingabout her calm remoteness irritated him.
He said: “Got your story pat for tomorrow, Polly?”
She turned astonished eyes upon him.
“Superintendent Huish is coming. He’ll ask you all over again just whatyour movements were on the evening of November 9th.”
“Oh, I see. It’s so long ago now. One can hardly remember.”
“But he can, Polly. That’s the point. He can. It’s all written down some-where in a nice little police notebook.”
“Is it? Do they keep these things?”
“Probably keep everything in triplicate for ten years! Well, your move-ments are very simple, Polly. There weren’t any. You were here with mein this room. And if I were you I shouldn’t mention that you left it betweenseven and seven-thirty.”
“But that was only to go to the bathroom. After all,” said Mary reason-ably, “everyone has to go to the bathroom.”
“You didn’t mention the fact to him at the time. I do remember that.”
“I suppose I forgot about it.”
“I thought it might have been an instinct of self-preservation … Anyway,I remember backing you up. We were together here, playing picquet fromsix-thirty until Kirsty gave the alarm. That’s our story and we’re sticking toit.”
“Very well, darling.” Her agreement was placid—uninterested.
He thought: “Has she no imagination? Can’t she foresee that we’re in fora sticky time?”
He leaned forward.
“It’s interesting, you know … Aren’t you interested in who killed her? Weall know—Micky was quite right there—that it’s one of us. Aren’t you in-terested to know which?”
“It wasn’t you or I,” said Mary.
“And that’s all that interests you? Polly, you’re wonderful!”
She flushed slightly.
“I don’t see what’s so odd about that?”
“No, I can see you don’t … Well, I’m different. I’m curious.”
“I don’t suppose we ever shall know. I don’t suppose the police will everknow.”
“Perhaps not. They’ll certainly have precious little to go upon. But we’rein rather a different position to the police.”
“What do you mean, Philip?”
“Well, we’ve got a few bits of inside knowledge. We know our little lotfrom inside—have a fairly good idea of what makes them tick. You shouldhave, anyway. You’ve grown up with them all. Let’s hear your views. Whodo you think it was?”
“I’ve no idea, Philip.”
“Then just make a guess.”
Mary said sharply:
“I’d rather not know who did it. I’d rather not even think about it.”
“Ostrich,” said her husband.
“Honestly, I don’t see the point of — guessing. It’s much better not toknow. Then we can all go on as usual.”
“Oh no, we can’t,” said Philip. “That’s where you’re wrong, my girl. Therot’s set in already.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, take Hester and her young man—earnest young Doctor Donald.
Nice chap, serious, worried. He doesn’t really think she did it—but he’s notreally sure she didn’t do it! And so he looks at her, anxiously, when hethinks she isn’t noticing. But she notices all right. So there you are! Per-haps she did do it—you’d know better than I would—but if she didn’t,what the hell can she do about her young man? Keep on saying: ‘Please, itwasn’t me?’ But that’s what she’d say anyway.”
“Really, Philip. I think you’re imagining things.”
“You can’t imagine at all, Polly. Then take poor old Leo. Marriage bellswith Gwenda are receding17 into the distance. The girl’s horribly upsetabout it. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I really don’t see what Father wants to marry again for at his age.”
“He sees all right! But he also sees that any hint of a love affair withGwenda gives both of them a first-class motive18 for murder. Awkward!”
“It’s fantastic to think for a moment that Father murdered Mother!” saidMary. “Such things don’t happen.”
“Yes, they do. Read the papers.”
“Not our sort of people.”
“Murder is no snob19, Polly. Then there’s Micky. Something’s eating himall right. He’s a queer, bitter lad. Tina seems in the clear, unworried, unaf-fected. But she’s a little poker20 face if ever there was one. Then there’s poorold Kirsty—”
A faint animation21 came into Mary’s face.
“Now that might be a solution!”
“Kirsty?”
“Yes. After all, she’s a foreigner. And I believe she’s had very bad head-aches the last year or two … It seems much more likely that she shouldhave done it than any of us.”
“Poor devil,” said Philip. “Don’t you see that that’s just what she is sayingto herself? That we’ll all agree together that she’s the one? For conveni-ence. Because she’s not a member of the family. Didn’t you see tonightthat she was worried stiff? And she’s in the same position as Hester. Whatcan she say or do? Say to us all: ‘I did not kill my friend and employer?’
What weight can that statement carry? It’s worse hell for her, perhaps,than for anyone else … Because she’s alone. She’ll be going over in hermind every word she’s ever said, every angry look she ever gave yourmother — thinking that it will be remembered against her. Helpless toprove her innocence22.”
“I wish you’d calm down, Phil. After all, what can we do about it?”
“Only try to find out the truth.”
“But how is that possible?”
“There might be ways. I’d rather like to try.”
Mary looked uneasy.
“What sort of ways?”
“Oh, saying things—watching how people react—one could think upthings”—he paused, his mind working—“things that would mean some-thing to a guilty person, but not to an innocent one …” Again he was silent,turning ideas over in his mind. He looked up and said: “Don’t you want tohelp the innocent, Mary?”
“No.” The word came out explosively. She came over to him and kneltby his chair. “I don’t want you to mix yourself up in all this, Phil. Don’tstart saying things and laying traps. Leave it all alone. Oh, for God’s sake,leave it alone!”
Philip’s eyebrows23 rose.
“We-ell,” he said. And he laid a hand on the smooth golden head.
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收听单词发音
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1
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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3
stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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pawns
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| n.（国际象棋中的）兵( pawn的名词复数 )；卒；被人利用的人；小卒v.典当，抵押( pawn的第三人称单数 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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14
pneumonia
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| n.肺炎 | |
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jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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