“What on earth are you doing?” demanded Tuppence, as she entered theinner sanctum of the International Detective Agency—(Slogan—Blunt’sBrilliant Detectives) and discovered her lord and master prone1 on thefloor in a sea of books.
Tommy struggled to his feet.
“I was trying to arrange these books on the top shelf of that cupboard,”
he complained. “And the damned chair gave way.”
“What are they, anyway?” asked Tuppence, picking up a volume. “TheHound of the Baskervilles. I wouldn’t mind reading that again some time.”
“You see the idea?” said Tommy, dusting himself with care. “Half hourswith the Great Masters—that sort of thing. You see, Tuppence, I can’t helpfeeling that we are more or less amateurs at this business—of course ama-teurs in one sense we cannot help being, but it would do no harm to ac-quire the technique, so to speak. These books are detective stories by theleading masters of the art. I intend to try different styles, and compare res-ults.”
“H’m,” said Tuppence. “I often wonder how these detectives would havegot on in real life.” She picked up another volume. “You’ll find a difficultyin being a Thorndyke. You’ve no medical experience, and less legal, and Inever heard that science was your strong point.”
“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But at any rate I’ve bought a very goodcamera, and I shall photograph footprints and enlarge the negatives andall that sort of thing. Now, mon ami, use your little grey cells—what doesthis convey to you?”
He pointed2 to the bottom shelf of the cupboard. On it lay a somewhat fu-turistic dressing3 gown, a turkish slipper4, and a violin.
“Obvious, my dear Watson,” said Tuppence.
“Exactly,” said Tommy. “The Sherlock Holmes touch.”
He took up the violin and drew the bow idly across the strings5, causingTuppence to give a wail6 of agony.
At that moment the buzzer7 rang on the desk, a sign that a client had ar-rived in the outer office and was being held in parley8 by Albert, the officeboy.
Tommy hastily replaced the violin in the cupboard and kicked the booksbehind the desk.
“Not that there’s any great hurry,” he remarked. “Albert will be handingthem out the stuff about my being engaged with Scotland Yard on thephone. Get into your office and start typing, Tuppence. It makes the officesound busy and active. No, on second thoughts you shall be taking notes inshorthand from my dictation. Let’s have a look before we get Albert tosend the victim in.”
They approached the peephole which had been artistically9 contrived10 soas to command a view of the outer office.
The client was a girl of about Tuppence’s age, tall and dark with a ratherhaggard face and scornful eyes.
“Clothes cheap and striking,” remarked Tuppence. “Have her in,Tommy.”
In another minute the girl was shaking hands with the celebrated11 Mr.
Blunt, whilst Tuppence sat by with eyes demurely12 downcast, and pad andpencil in hand.
“My confidential13 secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Mr. Blunt with a waveof his hand. “You may speak freely before her.” Then he lay back for aminute, half-closed his eyes and remarked in a tired tone: “You must findtravelling in a bus very crowded at this time of day.”
“I came in a taxi,” said the girl.
“Oh!” said Tommy aggrieved14. His eyes rested reproachfully on a bluebus ticket protruding15 from her glove. The girl’s eyes followed his glance,and she smiled and drew it out.
“You mean this? I picked it up on the pavement. A little neighbour ofours collects them.”
Tuppence coughed, and Tommy threw a baleful glare at her.
“We must get to business,” he said briskly. “You are in need of our ser-vices, Miss—?”
“Kingston Bruce is my name,” said the girl. “We live at Wimbledon. Lastnight a lady who is staying with us lost a valuable pink pearl. Mr. St. Vin-cent was also dining with us, and during dinner he happened to mentionyour firm. My mother sent me off to you this morning to ask you if youwould look into the matter for us.”
The girl spoke16 sullenly17, almost disagreeably. It was clear as daylight thatshe and her mother had not agreed over the matter. She was here underprotest.
“I see,” said Tommy, a little puzzled. “You have not called in the police?”
“No,” said Miss Kingston Bruce, “we haven’t. It would be idiotic18 to call inthe police and then find the silly thing had rolled under the fireplace, orsomething like that.”
“Oh!” said Tommy. “Then the jewel may only be lost after all?”
Miss Kingston Bruce shrugged19 her shoulders.
“People make such a fuss about things,” she murmured. Tommy clearedhis throat.
“Of course,” he said doubtfully. “I am extremely busy just now—”
“I quite understand,” said the girl, rising to her feet. There was a quickgleam of satisfaction in her eyes which Tuppence, for one, did not miss.
“Nevertheless,” continued Tommy. “I think I can manage to run down toWimbledon. Will you give me the address, please?”
“The Laurels20, Edgeworth Road.”
“Make a note of it, please, Miss Robinson.”
Miss Kingston Bruce hesitated, then said rather ungraciously.
“We’ll expect you then. Good morning.”
“Funny girl,” said Tommy when she had left. “I couldn’t quite make herout.”
“I wonder if she stole the thing herself,” remarked Tuppence meditat-ively. “Come on, Tommy, let’s put away these books and take the car andgo down there. By the way, who are you going to be, Sherlock Holmesstill?”
“I think I need practice for that,” said Tommy. “I came rather a cropperover that bus ticket, didn’t I?”
“You did,” said Tuppence. “If I were you I shouldn’t try too much on thatgirl—she’s as sharp as a needle. She’s unhappy too, poor devil.”
“I suppose you know all about her already,” said Tommy with sarcasm,“simply from looking at the shape of her nose!”
“I’ll tell you my idea of what we shall find at The Laurels,” said Tup-pence, quite unmoved. “A household of snobs22, very keen to move in thebest society; the father, if there is a father, is sure to have a military title.
The girl falls in with their way of life and despises herself for doing so.”
Tommy took a last look at the books now neatly23 arranged upon theshelf.
“I think,” he said thoughtfully, “that I shall be Thorndyke today.”
“I shouldn’t have thought there was anything medico-legal about thiscase,” remarked Tuppence.
“Perhaps not,” said Tommy. “But I’m simply dying to use that new cam-era of mine! It’s supposed to have the most marvellous lens that ever wasor could be.”
“I know those kind of lenses,” said Tuppence. “By the time you’ve adjus-ted the shutter24 and stopped down and calculated the exposure and keptyour eye on the spirit level, your brain gives out, and you yearn25 for thesimple Brownie.”
“Only an unambitious soul is content with the simple Brownie.”
“Well, I bet I shall get better results with it than you will.”
Tommy ignored the challenge.
“I ought to have a ‘Smoker’s Companion,’ ” he said regretfully. “I wonderwhere one buys them?”
“There’s always the patent corkscrew Aunt Araminta gave you lastChristmas,” said Tuppence helpfully.
“That’s true,” said Tommy. “A curious-looking engine of destruction Ithought it at the time, and rather a humorous present to get from a strictlyteetotal aunt.”
“I,” said Tuppence, “shall be Polton.”
Tommy looked at her scornfully.
“Polton indeed. You couldn’t begin to do one of the things that he does.”
“Yes, I can,” said Tuppence. “I can rub my hands together when I’mpleased. That’s quite enough to get on with. I hope you’re going to takeplaster casts of footprints?”
Tommy was reduced to silence. Having collected the corkscrew theywent round to the garage, got out the car and started for Wimbledon.
The Laurels was a big house. It ran somewhat to gables and turrets26, hadan air of being very newly painted and was surrounded with neat flowerbeds filled with scarlet27 geraniums.
A tall man with a close-cropped white moustache, and an exaggeratedlymartial bearing opened the door before Tommy had time to ring.
“I’ve been looking out for you,” he explained fussily28. “Mr. Blunt, is itnot? I am Colonel Kingston Bruce. Will you come into my study?”
He let them into a small room at the back of the house.
“Young St. Vincent was telling me wonderful things about your firm.
I’ve noticed your advertisements myself. This guaranteed twenty- fourhours’ service of yours—a marvellous notion. That’s exactly what I need.”
Inwardly anathematising Tuppence for her irresponsibility in inventingthis brilliant detail, Tommy replied: “Just so, Colonel.”
“The whole thing is most distressing30, sir, most distressing.”
“Perhaps you would kindly31 give me the facts,” said Tommy, with a hintof impatience32.
“Certainly I will—at once. We have at the present moment staying withus a very old and dear friend of ours, Lady Laura Barton. Daughter of thelate Earl of Carrowway. The present earl, her brother, made a strikingspeech in the House of Lords the other day. As I say, she is an old and dearfriend of ours. Some American friends of mine who have just come over,the Hamilton Betts, were most anxious to meet her. ‘Nothing easier,’ I said.
‘She is staying with me now. Come down for the weekend.’ You knowwhat Americans are about titles, Mr. Blunt.”
“And others beside Americans sometimes, Colonel Kingston Bruce.”
“Alas! only too true, my dear sir. Nothing I hate more than a snob21. Well,as I was saying, the Betts came down for the weekend. Last night—wewere playing bridge at the time—the clasp of a pendant Mrs. HamiltonBetts was wearing broke, so she took it off and laid it down on a smalltable, meaning to take it upstairs with her when she went. This, however,she forgot to do. I must explain, Mr. Blunt, that the pendant consisted oftwo small diamond wings, and a big pink pearl depending from them. Thependant was found this morning lying where Mrs. Betts had left it, but thepearl, a pearl of enormous value, had been wrenched33 off.”
“Who found the pendant?”
“The parlourmaid—Gladys Hill.”
“Any reason to suspect her?”
“She has been with us some years, and we have always found her per-fectly honest. But, of course, one never knows—”
“Exactly. Will you describe your staff, and also tell me who was presentat dinner last night?”
“There is the cook—she has been with us only two months, but then shewould have no occasion to go near the drawing room—the same applies tothe kitchenmaid. Then there is the housemaid, Alice Cummings. She alsohas been with us for some years. And Lady Laura’s maid, of course. She isFrench.”
Colonel Kingston Bruce looked very impressive as he said this. Tommy,unaffected by the revelation of the maid’s nationality, said: “Exactly. Andthe party at dinner?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Betts, ourselves — my wife and daughter — and LadyLaura. Young St. Vincent was dining with us, and Mr. Rennie looked inafter dinner for a while.”
“Who is Mr. Rennie?”
“A most pestilential fellow—an arrant34 socialist35. Good looking, of course,and with a certain specious36 power of argument. But a man, I don’t mindtelling you, whom I wouldn’t trust a yard. A dangerous sort of fellow.”
“In fact,” said Tommy drily, “it is Mr. Rennie whom you suspect?”
“I do, Mr. Blunt. I’m sure, holding the views he does, that he can have noprinciples whatsoever37. What could have been easier for him than to havequietly wrenched off the pearl at a moment when we were all absorbed inour game? There were several absorbing moments — a redoubled notrump hand, I remember, and also a painful argument when my wife hadthe misfortune to revoke38.”
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “I should just like to know one thing—what isMrs. Betts’s attitude in all this?”
“She wanted me to call in the police,” said Colonel Kingston Bruce re-luctantly. “That is, when we had searched everywhere in case the pearlhad only dropped off.”
“But you dissuaded39 her?”
“I was very averse40 to the idea of publicity41 and my wife and daughterbacked me up. Then my wife remembered young St. Vincent speakingabout your firm at dinner last night—and the twenty-four hours’ specialservice.”
“Yes,” said Tommy, with a heavy heart.
“You see, in any case, no harm will be done. If we call in the police to-morrow, it can be supposed that we thought the jewel merely lost andwere hunting for it. By the way, nobody has been allowed to leave thehouse this morning.”
“Except your daughter, of course,” said Tuppence, speaking for the firsttime.
“Except my daughter,” agreed the Colonel. “She volunteered at once togo and put the case before you.”
Tommy rose.
“We will do our best to give you satisfaction, Colonel,” he said. “I shouldlike to see the drawing room, and the table on which the pendant was laiddown. I should also like to ask Mrs. Betts a few questions. After that, I willinterview the servants—or rather my assistant, Miss Robinson, will do so.”
He felt his nerve quailing42 before the terrors of questioning the servants.
Colonel Kingston Bruce threw open the door and led them across thehall. As he did so, a remark came to them clearly through the open door ofthe room they were approaching and the voice that uttered it was that ofthe girl who had come to see them that morning.
“You know perfectly43 well, Mother,” she was saying, “that she did bringhome a teaspoon44 in her muff.”
In another minute they were being introduced to Mrs. Kingston Bruce, aplaintive lady with a languid manner. Miss Kingston Bruce acknowledgedtheir presence with a short inclination45 of the head. Her face was more sul-len than ever.
Mrs. Kingston Bruce was voluble.
“—but I know who I think took it,” she ended. “That dreadful socialistyoung man. He loves the Russians and the Germans and hates the English—what else can you expect?”
“He never touched it,” said Miss Kingston Bruce fiercely. “I was watch-ing him—all the time. I couldn’t have failed to see if he had.”
She looked at them defiantly46 with her chin up.
Tommy created a diversion by asking for an interview with Mrs. Betts.
When Mrs. Kingston Bruce had departed accompanied by her husbandand daughter to find Mrs. Betts, he whistled thoughtfully.
“I wonder,” he said gently, “who it was who had a teaspoon in hermuff?”
“Just what I was thinking,” replied Tuppence.
Mrs. Betts, followed by her husband, burst into the room. She was a bigwoman with a determined47 voice. Mr. Hamilton Betts looked dyspeptic andsubdued.
“I understand, Mr. Blunt, that you are a private inquiry48 agent, and onewho hustles49 things through at a great rate?”
“Hustle,” said Tommy, “is my middle name, Mrs. Betts. Let me ask you afew questions.”
Thereafter things proceeded rapidly. Tommy was shown the damagedpendant, the table on which it had lain, and Mr. Betts emerged from his ta-citurnity to mention the value, in dollars, of the stolen pearl.
And withal, Tommy felt an irritating certainty that he was not gettingon.
“I think that will do,” he said, at length. “Miss Robinson, will you kindlyfetch the special photographic apparatus50 from the hall?”
Miss Robinson complied.
“A little invention of my own,” said Tommy. “In appearance, you see, itis just like an ordinary camera.”
He had some slight satisfaction in seeing that the Betts were impressed.
He photographed the pendant, the table on which it had lain, and tookseveral general views of the apartment. Then “Miss Robinson” was deleg-ated to interview the servants, and in view of the eager expectancy51 on thefaces of Colonel Kingston Bruce and Mrs. Betts, Tommy felt called upon tosay a few authoritative52 words.
“The position amounts to this,” he said. “Either the pearl is still in thehouse, or it is not still in the house.”
“Quite so,” said the Colonel with more respect than was, perhaps, quitejustified by the nature of the remark.
“If it is not in the house, it may be anywhere—but if it is in the house, itmust necessarily be concealed53 somewhere—”
“And a search must be made,” broke in Colonel Kingston Bruce. “Quiteso. I give you carte blanche, Mr. Blunt. Search the house from attic54 to cel-lar.”
“Oh! Charles,” murmured Mrs. Kingston Bruce tearfully, “do you thinkthat is wise? The servants won’t like it. I’m sure they’ll leave.”
“We will search their quarters last,” said Tommy soothingly55. “The thiefis sure to have hidden the gem56 in the most unlikely place.”
“I seem to have read something of the kind,” agreed the Colonel.
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “You probably remember the case of Rex vBailey, which created a precedent57.”
“Oh—er—yes,” said the Colonel, looking puzzled.
“Now, the most unlikely place is in the apartment of Mrs. Betts,” contin-ued Tommy.
“My! Wouldn’t that be too cute?” said Mrs. Betts admiringly.
Without more ado she took him up to her room, where Tommy oncemore made use of the special photographic apparatus.
Presently Tuppence joined him there.
“You have no objection, I hope, Mrs. Betts, to my assistant’s lookingthrough your wardrobe?”
“Why, not at all. Do you need me here any longer?”
Tommy assured her that there was no need to detain her, and Mrs. Bettsdeparted.
“We might as well go on bluffing58 it out,” said Tommy. “But personally Idon’t believe we’ve a dog’s chance of finding the thing. Curse you and yourtwenty-four hours’ stunt59, Tuppence.”
“Listen,” said Tuppence. “The servants are all right, I’m sure, but I man-aged to get something out of the French maid. It seems that when LadyLaura was staying here a year ago, she went out to tea with some friendsof the Kingston Bruces, and when she got home a teaspoon fell out of hermuff. Everyone thought it must have fallen in by accident. But, talkingabout similar robberies, I got hold of a lot more. Lady Laura is alwaysstaying about with people. She hasn’t got a bean, I gather, and she’s out forcomfortable quarters with people to whom a title still means something. Itmay be a coincidence — or it may be something more, but five distinctthefts have taken place whilst she has been staying in various houses,sometimes trivial things, sometimes valuable jewels.”
“Whew!” said Tommy, and gave vent29 to a prolonged whistle. “Where’sthe old bird’s room, do you know?”
“Just across the passage.”
“Then I think, I rather think, that we’ll just slip across and investigate.”
The room opposite stood with its door ajar. It was a spacious60 apartment,with white enamelled fitments and rose pink curtains. An inner door ledto a bathroom. At the door of this appeared a slim, dark girl, very neatlydressed.
Tuppence checked the exclamation61 of astonishment62 on the girl’s lips.
“This is Elise, Mr. Blunt,” she said primly63. “Lady Laura’s maid.”
Tommy stepped across the threshold of the bathroom, and approved in-wardly its sumptuous64 and up-to-date fittings. He set to work to dispel65 thewide stare of suspicion on the French girl’s face.
“You are busy with your duties, eh, Mademoiselle Elise?”
“Yes, Monsieur, I clean Milady’s bath.”
“Well, perhaps you’ll help me with some photography instead. I have aspecial kind of camera here, and I am photographing the interiors of allthe rooms in this house.”
He was interrupted by the communicating door to the bedroom bangingsuddenly behind him. Elise jumped at the sound.
“What did that?”
“It must have been the wind,” said Tuppence.
“We will come into the other room,” said Tommy.
Elise went to open the door for them, but the door knob rattled66 aim-lessly.
“What’s the matter?” said Tommy sharply.
“Ah, Monsieur, but somebody must have locked it on the other side.”
She caught up a towel and tried again. But this time the door handleturned easily enough, and the door swung open.
“Voilà ce qui est curieux. It must have been stuck,” said Elise.
There was no one in the bedroom.
Tommy fetched his apparatus. Tuppence and Elise worked under his or-ders. But again and again his glance went back to the communicatingdoor.
“I wonder,” he said between his teeth—“I wonder why that door stuck?”
He examined it minutely, shutting and opening it. It fitted perfectly.
“One picture more,” he said with a sigh. “Will you loop back that rosecurtain, Mademoiselle Elise? Thank you. Just hold it so.”
The familiar click occurred. He handed a glass slide to Elise to hold, re-linquished the tripod to Tuppence, and carefully readjusted and closed thecamera.
He made some easy excuse to get rid of Elise, and as soon as she was outof the room, he caught hold of Tuppence and spoke rapidly.
“Look here, I’ve got an idea. Can you hang on here? Search all the rooms—that will take some time. Try and get an interview with the old bird—Lady Laura—but don’t alarm her. Tell her you suspect the parlourmaid.
But whatever you do don’t let her leave the house. I’m going off in the car.
I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“All right,” said Tuppence. “But don’t be too cocksure. You’ve forgottenone thing.
“The girl. There’s something funny about that girl. Listen, I’ve found outthe time she started from the house this morning. It took her two hours toget to our office. That’s nonsense. Where did she go before she came tous?”
“There’s something in that,” admitted her husband. “Well, follow up anyold clue you like, but don’t let Lady Laura leave the house. What’s that?”
His quick ear had caught a faint rustle67 outside on the landing. He strodeacross to the door, but there was no one to be seen.
“Well, so long,” he said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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slipper
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strings
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wail
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buzzer
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parley
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artistically
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contrived
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celebrated
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demurely
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confidential
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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protruding
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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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sullenly
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idiotic
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shrugged
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laurels
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snob
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snobs
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neatly
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yearn
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turrets
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scarlet
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fussily
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distressing
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kindly
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impatience
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wrenched
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arrant
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socialist
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specious
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whatsoever
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revoke
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| v.废除，取消，撤回 | |
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dissuaded
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| 劝（某人）勿做某事，劝阻( dissuade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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quailing
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的现在分词 ) | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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teaspoon
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| n.茶匙 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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hustles
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| 忙碌，奔忙( hustle的名词复数 ) | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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bluffing
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| n. 威吓，唬人 动词bluff的现在分词形式 | |
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stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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