Luke had been just in the act of applying a match to a cigarette. The unex-pectedness of her remark momentarily paralysed his hand. He remainedquite motionless for a second or two, the match burned down andscorched his fingers.
“Damn,” said Luke as he dropped the match and shook his hand vigor-ously. “I beg your pardon. You gave me rather a nasty jolt1.” He smiled rue-fully.
“Did I?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “Oh, well, I suppose anyone of real intelligence wasbound to see through me! That story of my writing a book on folkloredidn’t take you in for a moment, I suppose?”
“Not after I’d once seen you.”
“You believed it up to then?”
“Yes.”
“All the same it wasn’t really a good story,” said Luke critically. “I mean,any man might want to write a book, but the bit about coming down hereand passing myself off as a cousin—I suppose that made you smell a rat?”
Bridget shook her head.
“No. I had an explanation for that—I thought I had, I mean. I presumedyou were pretty hard up—a lot of my and Jimmy’s friends are that—and Ithought he suggested the cousin stunt2 so that—well, so that it would saveyour pride.”
“But when I arrived,” said Luke, “my appearance immediately suggestedsuch opulence3 that that explanation was out of the question?”
Her mouth curved in its slow smile.
“Oh, no,” she said. “It wasn’t that. It was simply that you were the wrongkind of person.”
“Not sufficient brains to write a book? Don’t spare my feelings. I’drather know.”
“You might write a book—but not that kind of book—old superstitions—delving into the past—not that sort of thing! You’re not the kind of man towhom the past means much—perhaps not even the future—only just thepresent.”
“H’m — I see.” He made a wry4 face. “Damn it all, you’ve made menervous ever since I got here! You look so confoundedly intelligent.”
“I’m sorry,” said Bridget drily. “What did you expect?”
“Well, I really hadn’t thought about it.”
But she went on calmly:
“A fluffy5 little person—with just enough brains to realize her opportun-ities and marry her boss?”
Luke made a confused noise. She turned a cool amused glance on him.
“I quite understand. It’s all right. I’m not annoyed.”
Luke chose effrontery6.
“Well, perhaps, it was something faintly approaching that. But I didn’tthink much about it.”
She said slowly:
“No, you wouldn’t. You don’t cross your fences till you get to them.”
But Luke was despondent7.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt I did my stuff pretty rottenly! Has Lord Whitfield seenthrough me too?”
“Oh, no. If you said you’d come down here to study the habits of waterbeetles and write a monograph8 about them, it would have been OK withGordon. He’s got a beautiful believing mind.”
“All the same I wasn’t a bit convincing! I got rattled9 somehow.”
“I cramped10 your style,” said Bridget. “I saw that. It rather amused me,I’m afraid.”
“Oh, it would! Women with any brains are usually cold- bloodedlycruel.”
Bridget murmured:
“One has to take one’s pleasures as one can in this life!” She paused aminute, then said: “Why are you down here, Mr. Fitzwilliam?”
They had returned full circle to the original question. Luke had beenaware that it must be so. In the last few seconds he had been trying tomake up his mind. He looked up now and met her eyes—shrewd inquiringeyes that met his with a calm, steady gaze. There was a gravity in themwhich he had not quite expected to find there.
“It would be better, I think,” he said meditatively12, “not to tell you any-more lies.”
“Much better.”
“But the truth’s awkward… Look here, have you yourself formed anyopinion—I mean has anything occurred to you about my being here?”
She nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
“What was your idea? Will you tell me? I fancy it may help somehow.”
Bridget said quietly:
“I had an idea that you came down here in connection with the death ofthat girl, Amy Gibbs.”
“That’s it, then! That’s what I saw—what I felt—whenever her namecropped up! I knew there was something. So you thought I came downabout that?”
“Didn’t you?”
“In a way—yes.”
He was silent—frowning. The girl beside him sat equally silent, not mov-ing. She said nothing to disturb his train of thought.
He made up his mind.
“I’ve come down here on a wild goose chase—on a fantastical and prob-ably quite absurd and melodramatic supposition. Amy Gibbs is part ofthat whole business. I’m interested to find out exactly how she died.”
“Yes, I thought so.”
“But dash it all—why did you think so? What is there about her deaththat—well—aroused your interest?”
Bridget said:
“I’ve thought — all along — that there was something wrong about it.
That’s why I took you to see Miss Waynflete.”
“Why?”
“Because she thinks so too.”
“Oh.” Luke thought back rapidly. He understood now the underlyingsuggestions of that intelligent spinster’s manner. “She thinks as you do—that there’s something—odd about it?”
Bridget nodded.
“Why exactly?”
“Hat paint, to begin with.”
“What do you mean, hat paint?”
“Well, about twenty years ago, people did paint hats—one season youhad a pink straw, next season a bottle of hat paint and it became dark blue—then perhaps another bottle and a black hat! But nowadays—hats arecheap—tawdry stuff to be thrown away when out of fashion.”
“Even girls of the class of Amy Gibbs?”
“I’d be more likely to paint a hat than she would! Thrift’s gone out. Andthere’s another thing. It was red hat paint.”
“Well?”
“And Amy Gibbs had red hair—carrots!”
“You mean it doesn’t go together?”
Bridget nodded.
“You wouldn’t wear a scarlet13 hat with carroty hair. It’s the sort of thinga man wouldn’t realize, but—”
Luke interrupted her with heavy significance.
“No—a man wouldn’t realize that. It fits in—it all fits in.”
Bridget said:
“Jimmy has got some odd friends at Scotland Yard. You’re not—”
Luke said quickly:
“I’m not an official detective—and I’m not a well-known private invest-igator with rooms in Baker14 Street, etc. I’m exactly what Jimmy told you Iwas—a retired15 policeman from the East. I’m horning in on this businessbecause of an odd thing that happened in the train to London.”
He gave a brief synopsis16 of his conversation with Miss Pinkerton and thesubsequent events which had brought about his presence in Wychwood.
“So you see,” he ended. “It’s fantastic! I’m looking for a certain man—asecret killer—a man here in Wychwood—probably well-known and re-spected. If Miss Pinkerton’s right and you’re right and Miss What’s-’er-name is right—that man killed Amy Gibbs.”
Bridget said: “I see.”
“It could have been done from outside, I suppose?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Bridget slowly. “Reed, the constable17, climbed up toher window by means of an outhouse. The window was open. It was a bitof a scramble18, but a reasonably active man would find no real difficulty.”
“And having done that, he did what?”
“Substituted a bottle of hat paint for the cough linctus.”
“Hoping she’d do exactly what she did do—wake up, drink it off, andthat everyone would say she’d made a mistake or committed suicide?”
“Yes.”
“There was no suspicion of what they call in books, ‘foul play’ at the in-quest?”
“No.”
“Men again, I suppose—the hat paint point wasn’t raised?”
“No.”
“But it occurred to you?”
“Yes.”
“And to Miss Waynflete? Have you discussed it together?”
Bridget smiled faintly:
“Oh, no—not in the sense you mean. I mean we haven’t said anythingright out. I don’t really know how far the old pussy19 has gone in her ownmind. I’d say she’d been just worried to start with—and gradually gettingmore so. She’s quite intelligent, you know, went to Girton or wanted to,and was advanced when she was young. She’s not got quite the woollymind of most of the people down here.”
“Miss Pinkerton had rather a woolly mind I should imagine,” said Luke.
“That’s why I never dreamed there was anything in her story to beginwith.”
“She was pretty shrewd, I always thought,” said Bridget. “Most of theserambling old dears are as sharp as nails in some ways. You said she men-tioned other names?”
Luke nodded.
“Yes. A small boy—that was Tommy Pierce—I remembered the name assoon as I heard it. And I’m pretty sure that the man Carter came in too.”
“Carter, Tommy Pierce, Amy Gibbs, Dr. Humbleby,” said Bridgetthoughtfully. “As you say, it’s almost too fantastic to be true! Who on earthwould want to kill all those people? They were all so different!”
Luke said:
“Any idea as to why anyone should want to do away with Amy Gibbs?”
Bridget shook her head.
“I can’t imagine.”
“What about the man Carter? How did he die, by the way?”
“Fell into the river and was drowned. He was on his way home, it was amisty night and he was quite drunk. There’s a footbridge with a rail ononly one side. It was taken for granted that he missed his footing.”
“But someone could quite easily have given him a shove?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And somebody else could quite easily have given nasty little Tommy apush when he was window cleaning?”
“Again yes.”
“So it boils down to the fact that it’s really quite easy to remove threehuman beings without anyone suspecting.”
“Miss Pinkerton suspected,” Bridget pointed20 out.
“So she did, bless her. She wasn’t troubled with ideas of being too melo-dramatic, or of imagining things.”
“She often told me the world was a very wicked place.”
“And you smiled tolerantly, I suppose?”
“In a superior manner!”
“Anybody who can believe six impossible things before breakfast winshands down at this game.”
Bridget nodded.
Luke said:
“I suppose it’s no good my asking you if you’ve a hunch21 of any kind?
There’s no particular individual in Wychwood who gives you a creepyfeeling down the spine22, or who has strange pale eyes—or a queer mani-acal giggle23.”
“Everybody I’ve met in Wychwood appears to me to be eminently24 sane,respectable, and completely ordinary.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” said Luke.
Bridget said:
“You think this man is definitely mad?”
“Oh, I should say so. A lunatic all right, but a cunning one. The last per-son you’d ever suggest—probably a pillar of society like a Bank Manager.”
“Mr. Jones? I certainly can’t imagine him committing wholesalemurders.”
“Then he’s probably the man we want.”
“It may be anyone,” said Bridget. “The butcher, the baker, the grocer, afarm labourer, a road mender, or the man who delivers the milk.”
“It may be—yes—but I think the field is a little more restricted thanthat.”
“Why?”
“My Miss Pinkerton spoke25 of the look in his eyes when he was measur-ing up his next victim. From the way she spoke I got the impression—it’sonly an impression, mark you—that the man she was speaking of was atleast her social equal. Of course, I may be wrong.”
“You’re probably quite right! Those nuances of conversation can’t be putdown in black and white, but they’re the sort of things one doesn’t reallymake mistakes about.”
“You know,” said Luke, “it’s a great relief to have you knowing all aboutit.”
“It will probably cramp11 your style less, I agree. And I can probably helpyou.”
“Your help will be invaluable26. You really mean to see it through?”
“Of course.”
Luke said with a sudden slight embarrassment27:
“What about Lord Whitfield? Do you think—?”
“Naturally we don’t tell Gordon anything about it!” said Bridget.
“You mean he wouldn’t believe it?”
“Oh, he’d believe it! Gordon could believe anything! He’d probably besimply thrilled and insist on having half a dozen of his bright young mendown to beat up the neighbourhood! He’d simply adore it!”
“That does rather rule it out,” agreed Luke.
“Yes, we can’t allow him to have his simple pleasures, I’m afraid.”
Luke looked at her. He seemed about to say something then changed hismind. He looked instead at his watch.
“Yes,” said Bridget, “we ought to be getting home.”
She got up. There was a sudden constraint28 between them as thoughLuke’s unspoken words hovered29 uncomfortably in the air.
They walked home in silence.
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收听单词发音
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1
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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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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3
opulence
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| n.财富，富裕 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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8
monograph
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| n.专题文章，专题著作 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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12
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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14
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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15
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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16
synopsis
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| n.提要，梗概 | |
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17
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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18
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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19
pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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20
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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21
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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25
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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26
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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29
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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