Mrs Thomas Beresford replaced The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs Molesworth,choosing a vacant place on the third shelf from the bottom. The MrsMolesworths were congregated1 here together. Tuppence drew out TheTapestry Room and held it thoughtfully in her fingers. Or she might readFour Winds Farm. She couldn’t remember Four Winds Farm as well as shecould remember The Cuckoo Clock and The Tapestry2 Room. Her fingerswandered…Tommy would be back soon.
She was getting on. Yes, surely she was getting on. If only she didn’t stopand pull out old favourites and read them. Very agreeable but it took a lotof time. And when Tommy asked her in the evening when he came homehow things were going and she said, ‘Oh very well now,’ she had to em-ploy a great deal of tact3 and finesse4 to prevent him from going upstairsand having a real look at how the bookshelves were progressing. It alltook a long time. Getting into a house always took a long time, muchlonger than one thought. And so many irritating people. Electricians, forinstance, who came and appeared to be displeased5 with what they haddone the last time they came and took up more large areas in the floorand, with cheerful faces, produced more pitfalls6 for the unwary housewifeto walk along and put a foot wrong and be rescued just in time by the un-seen electrician who was groping beneath the floor.
‘Sometimes,’ said Tuppence, ‘I really wish we hadn’t left Bartons Acre.’
‘Remember the dining-room,’ Tommy had said, ‘and remember those at-tics, and remember what happened to the garage. Nearly wrecked7 the car,you know it did.’
‘I suppose we could have had it patched up,’ said Tuppence.
‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘we’d have had to practically replace the damagedbuilding, or else we had to move. This is going to be a very nice housesome day. I’m quite sure of that. Anyway, there’s going to be room in it forall the things we want to do.’
‘When you say the things we want to do,’ Tuppence had said, ‘you meanthe things we want to find places for and to keep.’
‘I know,’ said Tommy. ‘One keeps far too much. I couldn’t agree withyou more.’
At that moment Tuppence considered something– whether they everwere going to do anything with this house, that is to say, beyond gettinginto it. It sounded simple but had turned out complex. Partly, of course, allthese books.
‘If I’d been a nice ordinary child of nowadays,’ said Tuppence, ‘Iwouldn’t have learned to read so easily when I was young. Childrennowadays who are four, or five, or six, don’t seem to be able to read whenthey get to ten or eleven. I can’t think why it was so easy for all of us. Wecould all read. Me and Martin next door and Jennifer down the road andCyril and Winifred. All of us. I don’t mean we could all spell very well butwe could read anything we wanted to. I don’t know how we learnt. Askingpeople, I suppose. Things about posters and Carter’s Little Liver Pills. Weused to read all about them in the fields when trains got near London. Itwas very exciting. I always wondered what they were. Oh dear, I mustthink of what I’m doing.’
She removed some more books. Three-quarters of an hour passed withher absorbed first in Alice Through the Looking-Glass, then with CharlotteYonge’s Unknown to History. Her hands lingered over the fat shabbiness ofThe Daisy Chain.
‘Oh, I must read that again,’ said Tuppence. ‘To think of the years andyears and years it is since I did read it. Oh dear, how exciting it was, won-dering, you know, whether Norman was going to be allowed to be con-firmed or not. And Ethel and–what was the name of the place? Coxwell orsomething like–and Flora8 who was worldly. I wonder why everyone was“worldly” in those days, and how poorly it was thought of, being worldly. Iwonder what we are now. Do you think we’re all worldly or not?’
‘I beg yer pardon, ma’am?’
‘Oh nothing,’ said Tuppence, looking round at her devoted9 henchman,Albert, who had just appeared in the doorway10.
‘I thought you called for something, madam. And you rang the bell,didn’t you?’
‘Not really,’ said Tuppence. ‘I just leant on it getting up on a chair to takea book out.’
‘Is there anything I can take down for you?’
‘Well, I wish you would,’ said Tuppence. ‘I’m falling off those chairs.
Some of their legs are very wobbly, some of them rather slippery.’
‘Any book in particular?’
‘Well, I haven’t got on very far with the third shelf up. Two shelvesdown from the top, you know. I don’t know what books are there.’
Albert mounted on a chair and banging each book in turn to dislodgesuch dust as it had managed to gather on it, handed things down. Tup-pence received them with a good deal of rapture11.
‘Oh, fancy! All these. I really have forgotten a lot of these. Oh, here’s TheAmulet and here’s The Psamayad. Here’s The New Treasure Seekers. Oh, Ilove all those. No, don’t put them in shelves yet, Albert. I think I’ll have toread them first. Well, I mean, one or two of them first, perhaps. Now,what’s this one? Let me see. The Red Cockade. Oh yes, that was one of thehistorical ones. That was very exciting. And there’s Under the Red Robe,too. Lots of Stanley Weyman. Lots and lots. Of course I used to read thosewhen I was about ten or eleven. I shouldn’t be surprised if I don’t comeacross The Prisoner of Zenda.’ She sighed with enormous pleasure at the re-membrance. ‘The Prisoner of Zenda. One’s first introduction, really, to theromantic novel. The romance of Princess Flavia. The King of Ruritania.
Rudolph Rassendyll, some name like that, whom one dreamt of at night.’
Albert handed down another selection.
‘Oh yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘That’s better, really. That’s earlier again. I mustput the early ones all together. Now, let me see. What have we got here?
Treasure Island. Well, that’s nice but of course I have read Treasure Islandagain, and I’ve seen, I think, two films of it. I don’t like seeing it on films, itnever seems right. Oh–and here’s Kidnapped. Yes, I always liked that.’
Albert stretched up, overdid12 his armful, and Catriona fell more or lesson Tuppence’s head.
‘Oh, sorry, madam. Very sorry.’
‘It’s quite all right,’ said Tuppence, ‘it doesn’t matter. Catriona. Yes. Anymore Stevensons up there?’
Albert handed the books down now more gingerly. Tuppence uttered acry of excessive delight.
‘The Black Arrow I declare! The Black Arrow! Now that’s one of the firstbooks really I ever got hold of and read. Yes. I don’t suppose you ever did,Albert. I mean, you wouldn’t have been born, would you? Now let methink. Let me think. The Black Arrow. Yes, of course, it was that picture onthe wall with eyes–real eyes–looking through the eyes of the picture. Itwas splendid. So frightening, just that. Oh yes. The Black Arrow. What wasit? It was all about–oh yes, the cat, the dog? No. The cat, the rat, and Lovell,the dog, Rule all England under the hog13. That’s it. The hog was Richard theThird, of course. Though nowadays they all write books saying he wasreally wonderful. Not a villain14 at all. But I don’t believe that. Shakespearedidn’t either. After all, he started his play by making Richard say: “I am de-termined so to prove a villain.” Ah yes. The Black Arrow.’
‘Some more, madam?’
‘No, thank you, Albert. I think I’m rather too tired to go on now.’
‘That’s all right. By the way, the master rang and said he’d be half anhour late.’
‘Never mind,’ said Tuppence.
She sat down in the chair, took The Black Arrow, opened the pages andengrossed herself.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, ‘how wonderful this is. I’ve really forgotten it quiteenough to enjoy reading it all over again. It was so exciting.’
Silence fell. Albert returned to the kitchen. Tuppence leaned back in thechair. Time passed. Curled up in the rather shabby armchair, Mrs ThomasBeresford sought the joys of the past by applying herself to the perusal16 ofRobert Louis Stevenson’s The Black Arrow.
In the kitchen time also passed. Albert applied17 himself to the variousmanoeuvres with the stove. A car drove up. Albert went to the side door.
‘Shall I put it in the garage, sir?’
‘No,’ said Tommy, ‘I’ll do that. I expect you’re busy with dinner. Am Ivery late?’
‘Not really, sir, just about when you said. A little early, in fact.’
‘Oh.’ Tommy disposed of the car and then came into the kitchen, rub-bing his hands. ‘Cold out. Where’s Tuppence?’
‘Oh, missus, she’s upstairs with the books.’
‘What, still those miserable18 books?’
‘Yes. She’s done a good many more today and she’s spent most of thetime reading.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Tommy. ‘All right, Albert. What are we having?’
‘Fillets of lemon sole, sir. It won’t take long to do.’
‘All right. Well, make it about quarter of an hour or so anyway. I want towash first.’
Upstairs, on the top floor Tuppence was still sitting in the somewhatshabby armchair, engrossed15 in The Black Arrow. Her forehead was slightlywrinkled. She had come across what seemed to her a somewhat curiousphenomenon. There seemed to be what she could only call a kind of inter-ference. The particular page she had got to–she gave it a brief glance, 64 orwas it 65? She couldn’t see–anyway, apparently19 somebody had underlinedsome of the words on the page. Tuppence had spent the last quarter of anhour studying this phenomenon. She didn’t see why the words had beenunderlined. They were not in sequence, they were not a quotation20, there-fore, in the book. They seemed to be words that had been singled out andhad then been underlined in red ink. She read under her breath:
‘Matcham could not restrain a little cry. Dick started with surprise anddropped the windac from his fingers. They were all afoot, loosing swordand dagger21 in the sheath. Ellis held up his hand. The white of his eyesshone. Let, large–’ Tuppence shook her head. It didn’t make sense. None ofit did.
She went over to the table where she kept her writing things, picked outa few sheets recently sent by a firm of note-paper printers for the Beres-fords to make a choice of the paper to be stamped with their new address:
The Laurels22.
‘Silly name,’ said Tuppence, ‘but if you go changing names all the time,then all your letters go astray.’
She copied things down. Now she realized something she hadn’t real-ized before.
‘That makes all the difference,’ said Tuppence.
She traced letters on the page.
‘So there you are,’ said Tommy’s voice, suddenly. ‘Dinner’s practicallyin. How are the books going?’
‘This lot’s terribly puzzling,’ said Tuppence. ‘Dreadfully puzzling.’
‘What’s puzzling?’
‘Well, this is The Black Arrow of Stevenson’s and I wanted to read itagain and I began. It was all right, and then suddenly–all the pages wererather queer because I mean a lot of the words had been underlined inred ink.’
‘Oh well, one does that,’ said Tommy. ‘I don’t mean solely23 in red ink, butI mean one does underline things. You know, something you want to re-member, or a quotation of something. Well, you know what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Tuppence, ‘but it doesn’t go like that. Andit’s letters, you see.’
‘What do you mean by letters?’
‘Come here,’ said Tuppence.
Tommy came and sat on the arm of the chair. Tommy read: ‘“Matchamcould not restrain a little cry and even died starter started with surpriseand dropped the window from his fingers the two big fellows on the–something I can’t read–shell was an expected signal. They were all afoottogether tightening24 loosing sword and dagger.” It’s mad,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Tuppence, ‘that’s what I thought at first. It was mad. But itisn’t mad, Tommy.’
Some cowbells rang from downstairs.
‘That’s supper in.’
‘Never mind,’ said Tuppence, ‘I’ve got to tell you this first. We can getdown to things about it later but it’s really so extraordinary. I’ve got to tellyou this straight away.’
‘Oh, all right. Have you got one of your mare’s nests?
‘No, I haven’t. It’s just that I took out the letters, you see. Well–on thispage, you see, well–the M of “Matcham” which is the first word, the M isunderlined and the A and after that there are three more, three or fourmore words. They don’t come in sequence in the book. They’ve just beenpicked out, I think, and they’ve been underlined–the letters in them–be-cause they wanted the right letters and the next one, you see, is the R from“restrain” underlined and the Y of “cry”, and then there’s J from “Jack”, Ofrom “shot”, R from “ruin”, D from “death” and A from “death” again, Nfrom “murrain”–’
‘For goodness’ sake,’ said Tommy, ‘do stop.’
‘Wait,’ said Tuppence. ‘I’ve got to find out. Now you see because I’vewritten out these, do you see what this is? I mean if you take those lettersout and write them in order on this piece of paper, do you see what youget with the ones I’ve done first? M-A-R-Y. Those four were underlined.’
‘What does that make?’
‘It makes Mary.’
‘All right,’ said Tommy, ‘it makes Mary. Somebody called Mary. A childwith an inventive nature, I expect, who is trying to point out that this washer book. People are always writing their names in books and things likethat.’
‘All right. Mary,’ said Tuppence. ‘And the next thing that comes under-lined makes the word J-o-r-d-a-n.’
‘You see? Mary Jordan,’ said Tommy. ‘It’s quite natural. Now you knowher whole name. Her name was Mary Jordan.’
‘Well, this book didn’t belong to her. In the beginning it says in a rathersilly, childish-looking writing, it says “Alexander”, Alexander Parkinson, Ithink.’
‘Oh well. Does it really matter?’
‘Of course it matters,’ said Tuppence.
‘Come on, I’m hungry,’ said Tommy.
‘Restrain yourself,’ said Tuppence, ‘I’m only going to read you the nextbit until the writing stops–or at any rate stops in the next four pages. Theletters are picked from odd places on various pages. They don’t run in se-quence–there can’t be anything in the words that matters–it’s just the let-ters. Now then. We’ve got M-a-r-y J-o-r-d-a-n. That’s right. Now do youknow what the next four words are? D-i-d n-o-t, not, d-i-e n-a-t-u-r-a-l-y.
That’s meant to be “naturally”, but they didn’t know it had two “l s”. Nowthen, what’s that? Mary Jordan did not die naturally. There you are,’ saidTuppence. ‘Now the next sentence made is: It was one of us. I think I knowwhich one. That’s all. Can’t find anything else. But it is rather exciting, isn’tit?’
‘Look here, Tuppence,’ said Tommy, ‘you’re not going to get a thingabout this, are you?’
‘What do you mean, a thing, about this?’
‘Well, I mean working up a sort of mystery.’
‘Well, it’s a mystery to me,’ said Tuppence. ‘Mary Jordan did not die nat-urally. It was one of us. I think I know which. Oh, Tommy, you must say thatit is very intriguing25.’
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收听单词发音
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1
congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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overdid
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去式 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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quotation
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| n.引文，引语，语录；报价，牌价，行情 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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intriguing
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| adj.有趣的；迷人的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的现在分词)；激起…的好奇心 | |
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