The buzzer1 on Mr. Blunt’s desk—International Detective Agency, Manager,Theodore Blunt—uttered its warning call. Tommy and Tuppence both flewto their respective peepholes which commanded a view of the outer office.
There it was Albert’s business to delay the prospective2 client with variousartistic devices.
“I will see, sir,” he was saying. “But I’m afraid Mr. Blunt is very busy justat present. He is engaged with Scotland Yard on the phone just now.”
“I’ll wait,” said the visitor. “I haven’t got a card with me, but my name isGabriel Stavansson.”
The client was a magnificent specimen3 of manhood, standing4 over sixfoot high. His face was bronzed and weather-beaten, and the extraordin-ary blue of his eyes made an almost startling contrast to the brown skin.
Tommy swiftly made up his mind. He put on his hat, picked up somegloves and opened the door. He paused on the threshold.
“This gentleman is waiting to see you, Mr. Blunt,” said Albert.
A quick frown passed over Tommy’s face. He took out his watch.
“I am due at the Duke’s at a quarter to eleven,” he said. Then he lookedkeenly at the visitor. “I can give you a few minutes if you will come thisway.”
The latter followed him obediently into the inner office, where Tup-pence was sitting demurely5 with pad and pencil.
“My confidential6 secretary, Miss Robinson,” said Tommy. “Now, sir, per-haps you will state your business? Beyond the fact that it is urgent, thatyou came here in a taxi, and that you have lately been in the Arctic—orpossibly the Antarctic, I know nothing.”
The visitor stared at him in amazement7.
“But this is marvellous,” he cried. “I thought detectives only did suchthings in books! Your office boy did not even give you my name!”
Tommy sighed deprecatingly.
“Tut, tut, all that was very easy,” he said. “The rays of the midnight sunwithin the Arctic circle have a peculiar8 action upon the skin—the actinicrays have certain properties. I am writing a little monograph9 on the sub-ject shortly. But all this is wide of the point. What is it that has broughtyou to me in such distress10 of mind?”
“To begin with, Mr. Blunt, my name is Gabriel Stavansson—”
“Ah! of course,” said Tommy. “The well-known explorer. You have re-cently returned from the region of the North Pole, I believe?”
“I landed in England three days ago. A friend who was cruising in north-ern waters brought me back on his yacht. Otherwise I should not have gotback for another fortnight. Now I must tell you, Mr. Blunt, that before Istarted on this last expedition two years ago, I had the great good fortuneto become engaged to Mrs. Maurice Leigh Gordon—”
Tommy interrupted.
“Mrs. Leigh Gordon was, before her marriage—?”
“The Honourable11 Hermione Crane, second daughter of LordLanchester,” reeled off Tuppence glibly12.
Tommy threw her a glance of admiration13.
“Her first husband was killed in the war,” added Tuppence.
Gabriel Stavansson nodded.
“That is quite correct. As I was saying, Hermione and I became engaged.
I offered, of course, to give up this expedition, but she wouldn’t hear ofsuch a thing—bless her! She’s the right kind of woman for an explorer’swife. Well, my first thought on landing was to see Hermione. I sent a tele-gram from Southampton, and rushed up to town by the first train. I knewthat she was living for the time being with an aunt of hers, Lady SusanClonray, in Pont Street, and I went straight there. To my great disappoint-ment, I found that Hermy was away visiting some friends in Northumber-land. Lady Susan was quite nice about it, after getting over her first sur-prise at seeing me. As I told you, I wasn’t expected for another fortnight.
She said Hermy would be returning in a few days’ time. Then I asked forher address, but the old woman hummed and hawed—said Hermy wasstaying at one or two different places and that she wasn’t quite sure whatorder she was taking them in. I may as well tell you, Mr. Blunt, that LadySusan and I have never got on very well. She’s one of those fat womenwith double chins. I loathe14 fat women—always have—fat women and fatdogs are an abomination unto the Lord—and unfortunately they so oftengo together! It’s an idiosyncrasy of mine, I know—but there it is—I nevercan get on with a fat woman.”
“Fashion agrees with you, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy dryly. “Andevery one has their own pet aversion—that of the late Lord Roberts wascats.”
“Mind you, I’m not saying that Lady Susan isn’t a perfectly15 charmingwoman—she may be, but I’ve never taken to her. I’ve always felt, deepdown, that she disapproved16 of our engagement, and I feel sure that shewould influence Hermy against me if that were possible. I’m telling youthis for what it’s worth. Count it out as prejudice if you like. Well, to go onwith my story, I’m the kind of obstinate17 brute18 who likes his own way. Ididn’t leave Pont Street until I’d got out of her the names and addresses ofthe people Hermy was likely to be staying with. Then I took the mail trainnorth.”
“You are, I perceive, a man of action, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy,smiling.
“The thing came upon me like a bombshell. Mr. Blunt, none of thesepeople had seen a sign of Hermy. Of the three houses, only one had beenexpecting her—Lady Susan must have made a bloomer over the other two—and she had put off her visit there at the last moment by telegram. I re-turned post haste to London, of course, and went straight to Lady Susan. Iwill do her the justice to say that she seemed upset. She admitted that shehad no idea where Hermy could be. All the same, she strongly negativedany idea of going to the police. She pointed19 out that Hermy was not a sillyyoung girl, but an independent woman who had always been in the habitof making her own plans. She was probably carrying out some idea of herown.
“I thought it quite likely that Hermy didn’t want to report all her move-ments to Lady Susan. But I was still worried. I had that queer feeling onegets when something is wrong. I was just leaving when a telegram wasbrought to Lady Susan. She read it with an expression of relief andhanded it to me. It ran as follows: “Changed my plans. Just off to MonteCarlo for a week.—Hermy.”
Tommy held out his hand.
“You have got the telegram with you?”
“No, I haven’t. But it was handed in at Maldon, Surrey. I noticed that atthe time, because it struck me as odd. What should Hermy be doing atMaldon. She’d no friends there that I had ever heard of.”
“You didn’t think of rushing off to Monte Carlo in the same way that youhad rushed north?”
“I thought of it, of course. But I decided20 against it. You see, Mr. Blunt,whilst Lady Susan seemed quite satisfied by that telegram, I wasn’t. Itstruck me as odd that she should always telegraph, not write. A line or twoin her own handwriting would have set all my fears at rest. But anyonecan sign a telegram ‘Hermy.’ The more I thought it over, the more uneasy Igot. In the end I went down to Maldon. That was yesterday afternoon. It’sa fair-sized place—good links there and all that—two hotels. I inquiredeverywhere I could think of, but there wasn’t a sign that Hermy had everbeen there. Coming back in the train I read your advertisement and Ithought I’d put it up to you. If Hermy has really gone off to Monte Carlo, Idon’t want to set the police on her track and make a scandal, but I’m notgoing to be sent off on a wild goose chase myself. I stay here in London, incase—in case there’s been foul21 play of any kind.”
Tommy nodded thoughtfully.
“What do you suspect exactly?”
“I don’t know. But I feel there’s something wrong.”
With a quick movement, Stavansson took a case from his pocket andlaid it open before them.
“That is Hermione,” he said. “I will leave it with you.”
The photograph represented a tall, willowy woman, no longer in herfirst youth, but with a charming frank smile and lovely eyes.
“Now, Mr. Stavansson,” said Tommy, “there is nothing you have omittedto tell me?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“No detail, however small?”
“I don’t think so.”
Tommy sighed.
“That makes the task harder,” he observed. “You must often have no-ticed, Mr. Stavansson, in reading of crime, how one small detail is all thegreat detective needs to set him on the track. I may say that this casepresents some unusual features. I have, I think, partially22 solved it already,but time will show.”
He picked up a violin which lay on the table and drew the bow once ortwice across the strings23. Tuppence ground her teeth, and even the ex-plorer blenched24. The performer laid the instrument down again.
“A few chords from Mosgovskensky,” he murmured. “Leave me your ad-dress, Mr. Stavansson, and I will report progress to you.”
As the visitor left the office, Tuppence grabbed the violin, and putting itin the cupboard turned the key in the lock.
“If you must be Sherlock Holmes,” she observed, “I’ll get you a nice littlesyringe and a bottle labelled cocaine26, but for God’s sake leave that violinalone. If that nice explorer man hadn’t been as simple as a child, he’d haveseen through you. Are you going on with the Sherlock Holmes touch?”
“I flatter myself that I have carried it through very well so far,” saidTommy with some complacence. “The deductions27 were good, weren’tthey? I had to risk the taxi. After all, it’s the only sensible way of getting tothis place.”
“It’s lucky I had just read the bit about his engagement in this morning’sDaily Mirror,” remarked Tuppence.
“Yes, that looked well for the efficiency of Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives.
This is decidedly a Sherlock Holmes case. Even you cannot have failed tonotice the similarity between it and the disappearance28 of Lady FrancesCarfax.”
“Do you expect to find Mrs. Leigh Gordon’s body in a coffin29?”
“Logically, history should repeat itself. Actually — well, what do youthink?”
“Well,” said Tuppence. “The most obvious explanation seems to be thatfor some reason or other, Hermy, as he calls her, is afraid to meet herfiancé, and that Lady Susan is backing her up. In fact, to put it bluntly,she’s come a cropper of some kind, and has got the wind up about it.”
“That occurred to me also,” said Tommy. “But I thought we’d bettermake pretty certain before suggesting that explanation to a man likeStavansson. What about a run down to Maldon, old thing? And it would dono harm to take some golf clubs with us.”
Tuppence agreeing, the International Detective Agency was left in thecharge of Albert.
Maldon, though a well-known residential30 place, did not cover a largearea. Tommy and Tuppence, making every possible inquiry31 that ingenuitycould suggest, nevertheless drew a complete blank. It was as they were re-turning to London that a brilliant idea occurred to Tuppence.
“Tommy, why did they put Maldon, Surrey, on the telegram?”
“Because Maldon is in Surrey, idiot.”
“Idiot yourself—I don’t mean that. If you get a telegram from—Hastings,say, or Torquay, they don’t put the county after it. But from Richmond,they do put Richmond, Surrey. That’s because there are two Richmonds.”
Tommy, who was driving, slowed up.
“Tuppence,” he said affectionately, “your idea is not so dusty. Let usmake inquiries32 at yonder post office.”
They drew up before a small building in the middle of a village street. Avery few minutes sufficed to elicit33 the information that there were twoMaldons. Maldon, Surrey, and Maldon, Sussex, the latter, a tiny hamlet butpossessed of a telegraph office.
“That’s it,” said Tuppence excitedly. “Stavansson knew Maldon was inSurrey, so he hardly looked at the word beginning with S after Maldon.”
“Tomorrow,” said Tommy, “we’ll have a look at Maldon, Sussex.”
Maldon, Sussex, was a very different proposition to its Surrey name-sake. It was four miles from a railway station, possessed34 two publichouses, two small shops, a post and telegraph office combined with asweet and picture postcard business, and about seven small cottages. Tup-pence took on the shops whilst Tommy betook himself to the Cock andSparrow. They met half an hour later.
“Well?” said Tuppence.
“Quite good beer,” said Tommy, “but no information.”
“You’d better try the King’s Head,” said Tuppence. “I’m going back to thepost office. There’s a sour old woman there, but I heard them yell to herthat dinner was ready.”
She returned to the place and began examining postcards. A fresh-facedgirl, still munching35, came out of the back room.
“I’d like these, please,” said Tuppence. “And do you mind waiting whilstI just look over these comic ones?”
She sorted through a packet, talking as she did so.
“I’m ever so disappointed you couldn’t tell me my sister’s address. She’sstaying near here and I’ve lost her letter. Leigh Gordon, her name is.”
The girl shook her head.
“I don’t remember it. And we don’t get many letters through here either—so I probably should if I’d seen it on a letter. Apart from the Grange,there isn’t many big houses round about.”
“What is the Grange?” asked Tuppence. “Who does it belong to?”
“Dr. Horriston has it. It’s turned into a nursing home now. Nerve casesmostly, I believe. Ladies that come down for rest cures, and all that sort ofthing. Well, it’s quiet enough down here, heaven knows.” She giggled36.
Tuppence hastily selected a few cards and paid for them.
“That’s Doctor Horriston’s car coming along now,” exclaimed the girl.
Tuppence hurried to the shop door. A small two-seater was passing. Atthe wheel was a tall dark man with a neat black beard and a powerful un-pleasant face. The car went straight on down the street. Tuppence sawTommy crossing the road towards her.
“Tommy, I believe I’ve got it. Doctor Horriston’s nursing home.”
“I heard about it at the King’s Head, and I thought there might be some-thing in it. But if she’s had a nervous breakdown37 or anything of that sort,her aunt and her friends would know about it surely.”
“Ye-es. I didn’t mean that. Tommy, did you see that man in the two-seater?”
“Unpleasant-looking brute, yes.”
“That was Doctor Horriston.”
Tommy whistled.
“Shifty looking beggar. What do you say about it, Tuppence? Shall we goand have a look at the Grange?”
They found the place at last, a big rambling38 house, surrounded by deser-ted grounds, with a swift mill stream running behind the house.
“Dismal sort of abode,” said Tommy. “It gives me the creeps, Tuppence.
You know, I’ve a feeling this is going to turn out a far more serious matterthan we thought at first.”
“Oh, don’t. If only we are in time. That woman’s in some awful danger; Ifeel it in my bones.”
“Don’t let your imagination run away with you.”
“I can’t help it. I mistrust that man. What shall we do? I think it wouldbe a good plan if I went and rang the bell alone first and asked boldly forMrs. Leigh Gordon just to see what answer I get. Because, after all, it maybe perfectly fair and aboveboard.”
Tuppence carried out her plan. The door was opened almost immedi-ately by a manservant with an impassive face.
“I want to see Mrs. Leigh Gordon, if she is well enough to see me.”
She fancied that there was a momentary39 flicker40 of the man’s eyelashes,but he answered readily enough.
“There is no one of that name here, madam.”
“Oh, surely. This is Doctor Horriston’s place, The Grange, is it not?”
“Yes, madam, but there is nobody of the name of Mrs. Leigh Gordonhere.”
Baffled, Tuppence was forced to withdraw and hold a further consulta-tion with Tommy outside the gate.
“Perhaps he was speaking the truth. After all, we don’t know.”
“He wasn’t. He was lying. I’m sure of it.”
“Wait until the doctor comes back,” said Tommy. “Then I’ll pass myselfoff as a journalist anxious to discuss his new system of rest cure with him.
That will give me a chance of getting inside and studying the geography ofthe place.”
The doctor returned about half an hour later. Tommy gave him aboutfive minutes, then he in turn marched up to the front door. But he too re-turned baffled.
“The doctor was engaged and couldn’t be disturbed. And he never seesjournalists. Tuppence, you’re right. There’s something fishy41 about thisplace. It’s ideally situated—miles from anywhere. Any mortal thing couldgo on here, and no one would ever know.”
“Come on,” said Tuppence, with determination.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to climb over the wall and see if I can’t get up to the housequietly without being seen.”
“Right. I’m with you.”
The garden was somewhat overgrown and afforded a multitude ofcover. Tommy and Tuppence managed to reach the back of the house un-observed.
Here there was a wide terrace with some crumbling42 steps leading downfrom it. In the middle some french windows opened on to the terrace, butthey dared not step out into the open, and the windows where they werecrouching were too high for them to be able to look in. It did not seem asthough their reconnaissance would be much use, when suddenly Tup-pence tightened43 her grasp of Tommy’s arm.
Someone was speaking in the room close to them. The window wasopen and the fragment of conversation came clearly to their ears.
“Come in, come in, and shut the door,” said a man’s voice irritably44. “Alady came about an hour ago, you said, and asked for Mrs. Leigh Gordon?”
Tuppence recognised the answering voice as that of the impassivemanservant.
“Yes, sir.”
“You said she wasn’t here, of course?”
“Of course, sir.”
“And now this journalist fellow,” fumed45 the other.
He came suddenly to the window, throwing up the sash, and the twooutside, peering through a screen of bushes, recognised Dr. Horriston.
“It’s the woman I mind most about,” continued the doctor. “What didshe look like?”
“Young, good-looking, and very smartly dressed, sir.”
Tommy nudged Tuppence in the ribs46.
“Exactly,” said the doctor between his teeth, “as I feared. Some friend ofthe Leigh Gordon woman’s. It’s getting very difficult. I shall have to takesteps—”
He left the sentence unfinished. Tommy and Tuppence heard the doorclose. There was silence.
Gingerly Tommy led the retreat. When they had reached a little clearingnot far away, but out of earshot from the house, he spoke47.
“Tuppence, old thing, this is getting serious. They mean mischief48. I thinkwe ought to get back to town at once and see Stavansson.”
To his surprise Tuppence shook her head.
“We must stay down here. Didn’t you hear him say he was going to takesteps—That might mean anything.”
“The worst of it is we’ve hardly got a case to go to the police on.”
“Listen, Tommy. Why not ring up Stavansson from the village? I’ll stayaround here.”
“Perhaps that is the best plan,” agreed her husband. “But I say—Tup-pence—”
“Well?”
“Take care of yourself—won’t you?”
“Of course I shall, you silly old thing. Cut along.”
It was some two hours later that Tommy returned. He found Tuppenceawaiting him near the gate.
“Well?”
“I couldn’t get on to Stavansson. Then I tried Lady Susan. She was outtoo. Then I thought of ringing up old Brady. I asked him to look up Horris-ton in the Medical Directory or whatever the thing calls itself.”
“Well, what did Dr. Brady say?”
“Oh, he knew the name at once. Horriston was once a bona fide doctor,but he came a cropper of some kind. Brady called him a most unscrupu-lous quack49, and said he, personally, wouldn’t be surprised at anything.
The question is, what are we to do now?”
“We must stay here,” said Tuppence instantly. “I’ve a feeling they meansomething to happen tonight. By the way, a gardener has been clipping ivyround the house. Tommy, I saw where he put the ladder.”
“Good for you, Tuppence,” said her husband appreciatively. “Then to-night—”
“As soon as it’s dark—”
“We shall see—”
“What we shall see.”
Tommy took his turn at watching the house whilst Tuppence went to thevillage and had some food.
Then she returned and they took up the vigil together. At nine o’clockthey decided that it was dark enough to commence operations. They werenow able to circle round the house in perfect freedom. Suddenly Tup-pence clutched Tommy by the arm.
“Listen.”
The sound she had heard came again, borne faintly on the night air. Itwas the moan of a woman in pain. Tuppence pointed upward to a windowon the first floor.
“It came from that room,” she whispered.
Again that low moan rent the stillness of the night.
The two listeners decided to put their original plan into action. Tup-pence led the way to where she had seen the gardener put the ladder.
Between them they carried it to the side of the house from which they hadheard the moaning. All the blinds of the ground floor rooms were drawn,but this particular window upstairs was unshuttered.
Tommy put the ladder as noiselessly as possible against the side of thehouse.
“I’ll go up,” whispered Tuppence. “You stay below. I don’t mind climbingladders and you can steady it better than I could. And in case the doctorshould come round the corner you’d be able to deal with him and Ishouldn’t.”
Nimbly Tuppence swarmed50 up the ladder and raised her head cau-tiously to look in at the window. Then she ducked it swiftly, but after aminute or two brought it very slowly up again. She stayed there for aboutfive minutes. Then she descended51 again.
“It’s her,” she said breathlessly and ungrammatically. “But, oh, Tommy,it’s horrible. She’s lying there in bed, moaning, and turning to and fro—and just as I got there a woman dressed as a nurse came in. She bent52 overher and injected something in her arm and then went away again. Whatshall we do?”
“Is she conscious?”
“I think so. I’m almost sure she is. I fancy she may be strapped53 to thebed. I’m going up again, and if I can I’m going to get into that room.”
“I say, Tuppence—”
“If I’m in any sort of danger, I’ll yell for you. So long.”
Avoiding further argument Tuppence hurried up the ladder again.
Tommy saw her try the window, then noiselessly push up the sash. An-other second and she had disappeared inside.
And now an agonising time came for Tommy. He could hear nothing atfirst. Tuppence and Mrs. Leigh Gordon must be talking in whispers if theywere talking at all. Presently he did hear a low murmur25 of voices anddrew a breath of relief. But suddenly the voices stopped. Dead silence.
Tommy strained his ears. Nothing. What could they be doing?
Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder.
“Come on,” said Tuppence’s voice out of the darkness.
“Tuppence! How did you get here?”
“Through the front door. Let’s get out of this.”
“Get out of this?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But—Mrs. Leigh Gordon?”
In a tone of indescribable bitterness Tuppence replied:
“Getting thin!”
Tommy looked at her, suspecting irony54.
“What do you mean?”
“What I say. Getting thin. Slinkiness. Reduction of weight. Didn’t youhear Stavansson say he hated fat women? In the two years he’s beenaway, his Hermy has put on weight. Got a panic when she knew he wascoming back and rushed off to do this new treatment of Dr. Horriston’s.
It’s injections of some sort, and he makes a deadly secret of it, and chargesthrough the nose. I dare say he is a quack—but he’s a damned successfulone! Stavansson comes home a fortnight too soon, when she’s only begin-ning the treatment. Lady Susan has been sworn to secrecy55 and plays up.
And we come down here and make blithering idiots of ourselves!”
Tommy drew a deep breath.
“I believe, Watson,” he said with dignity, “that there is a very good con-cert at the Queen’s Hall tomorrow. We shall be in plenty of time for it. Andyou will oblige me by not placing this case upon your records. It has abso-lutely no distinctive56 features.”
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buzzer
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prospective
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specimen
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standing
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demurely
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confidential
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amazement
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peculiar
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monograph
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distress
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honourable
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glibly
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admiration
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loathe
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perfectly
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disapproved
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obstinate
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brute
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pointed
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decided
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foul
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partially
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strings
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blenched
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murmur
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cocaine
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deductions
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disappearance
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coffin
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residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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munching
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的现在分词 ) | |
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giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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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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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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quack
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| n.庸医；江湖医生；冒充内行的人；骗子 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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