“Mr. Anthony Cade,” announced Tredwell. “Enter suspicious strangerfrom village inn,” said Anthony.
He made his way towards Lord Caterham with a kind of instinct rare instrangers. At the same time he summed up the other three men in his ownmind thus: “1, Scotland Yard. 2, local dignitary—probably chief constable1.
3, harassed2 gentleman on the verge3 of apoplexy—possibly connected withthe Government.”
“I must apologize,” continued Anthony, still addressing Lord Caterham.
“For forcing my way in like this, I mean. But it was rumoured4 round theJolly Dog, or whatever the name of your local pub may be, that you hadhad a murder up here, and as I thought I might be able to throw somelight upon it I came along.”
For a moment or two, no one spoke5. Superintendent6 Battle because hewas a man of ripe experience who knew how infinitely7 better it was to leteveryone else speak if they could be persuaded upon to do so, Colonel Mel-rose because he was habitually8 taciturn, George because he was in thehabit of having notice given to him of the question, Lord Caterham be-cause he had not the least idea of what to say. The silence of the otherthree, however, and the fact that he had been directly addressed, finallyforced speech upon the last named.
“Er — quite so — quite so,” he said nervously9. “Won’t — you — er — sitdown?”
“Thank you,” said Anthony.
George cleared his throat portentously10.
“Er—when you say you can throw light upon this matter, you mean?—”
“I mean,” said Anthony, “that I was trespassing11 upon Lord Caterham’sproperty (for which I hope he will forgive me) last night at about 11:45,and that I actually heard the shot fired. I can at any rate fix the time of thecrime for you.”
He looked round at the three in turn, his eyes resting longest on Super-intendent Battle, the impassivity of whose face he seemed to appreciate.
“But I hardly think that that’s news to you,” he added gently.
“Meaning by that, Mr. Cade?” asked Battle.
“Just this. I put on shoes when I got up this morning. Later, when I askedfor my boots, I couldn’t have them. Some nice young constable had calledround for them. So I naturally put two and two together, and hurried uphere to clear my character if possible.”
“A very sensible move,” said Battle noncommittally.
Anthony’s eyes twinkled a little.
“I appreciate your reticence12, Inspector13. It is Inspector, isn’t it?”
Lord Caterham interposed. He was beginning to take a fancy to An-thony.
“Superintendent Battle of Scotland Yard. This is Colonel Melrose, ourchief constable, and Mr. Lomax.”
Anthony looked sharply at George.
“Mr. George Lomax?”
“Yes.”
“I think, Mr. Lomax,” said Anthony, “that I had the pleasure of receivinga letter from you yesterday.”
George stared at him.
“I think not,” he said coldly.
But he wished that Miss Oscar were here. Miss Oscar wrote all his lettersfor him, and remembered who they were to and what they were about. Agreat man like George could not possibly remember all these annoying de-tails.
“I think, Mr. Cade,” he hinted, “that you were about to give us some—er—explanation of what you were doing in the grounds last night at 11:45?”
His tone said plainly: “And whatever it may be, we are not likely to be-lieve it.”
“Yes, Mr. Cade, what were you doing?” said Lord Caterham with livelyinterest.
“Well,” said Anthony regretfully, “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”
He drew out his cigarette case.
“May I?”
Lord Caterham nodded, and Anthony lit a cigarette, and braced14 himselffor the ordeal15.
He was aware, none better, of the peril16 in which he stood. In the shortspace of twenty- four hours, he had become embroiled17 in two separatecrimes. His actions in connexion with the first would not bear looking intofor a second. After deliberately18 disposing of one body and so defeating theaims of justice, he had arrived upon the scene of the second crime at theexact moment when it was being committed. For a young man looking fortrouble, he could hardly have done better.
“South America,” thought Anthony to himself, “simply isn’t in it withthis!”
He had already decided19 upon his course of action. He was going to tellthe truth—with one trifling20 alteration21, and one grave suppression.
“The story begins,” said Anthony, “about three weeks ago—in Bulawayo.
Mr. Lomax, of course, knows where that is—outpost of the Empire—‘Whatdo we know of England who only England know?’ all that sort of thing. Iwas conversing22 with a friend of mine, a Mr. James McGrath—”
He brought out the name slowly, with a thoughtful eye on George.
George bounded in his seat and repressed an exclamation23 with difficulty.
“The upshot of our conversation was that I came to England to carry outa little commission for Mr. McGrath, who was unable to go himself. Sincethe passage was booked in his name, I travelled as James McGrath. I don’tknow what particular kind of offence that was—the superindendent cantell me, I daresay, and run me in for so many months’ hard if necessary.”
“We’ll get on with the story, if you please, sir,” said Battle, but his eyestwinkled a little.
“On arrival in London I went to the Blitz Hotel, still as James McGrath.
My business in London was to deliver a certain manuscript to a firm ofpublishers, but almost immediately I received deputations from the rep-resentatives of two political parties of a foreign kingdom. The methods ofone were strictly24 constitutional, the methods of the other were not. I dealtwith them both accordingly. But my troubles were not over. That night myroom was broken into, and an attempt at burglary was made by one of thewaiters at the hotel.”
“That was not reported to the police, I think?” said SuperintendentBattle.
“You are right. It was not. Nothing was taken, you see. But I did reportthe occurrence to the manager of the hotel, and he will confirm my story,and tell you that the waiter in question decamped rather abruptly25 in themiddle of the night. The next day, the publishers rang me up, and sugges-ted that one of their representatives would call upon me and receive themanuscript. I agreed to this, and the arrangement was duly carried out onthe following morning. Since I have heard nothing further, I presume themanuscript reached them safely. Yesterday, still as James McGrath, I re-ceived a letter from Mr. Lomax—”
Anthony paused. He was by now beginning to enjoy himself. Georgeshifted uneasily.
“I remember,” he murmured. “Such a large correspondence. The name,of course, being different, I could not be expected to know. And I maysay,” George’s voice rose a little, firm in assurance of moral stability, “thatI consider this—this—masquerading as another man in the highest degreeimproper. I have no doubt, no doubt whatever that you have incurred26 asevere legal penalty.”
“In this letter,” continued Anthony, unmoved, “Mr. Lomax made varioussuggestions concerning the manuscript in my charge. He also extended aninvitation to me from Lord Caterham to join the house party here.”
“Delighted to see you, my dear fellow,” said the nobleman. “Better latethan never—eh?”
George frowned at him.
Superintendent Battle bent27 an unmoved eye upon Anthony.
“And is that your explanation of your presence here last night, sir?” heasked.
“Certainly not,” said Anthony warmly. “When I am asked to stay at acountry house, I don’t scale the wall late at night, tramp across the park,and try the downstairs windows. I drive up to the front door, ring the belland wipe my feet on the mat. I will proceed. I replied to Mr. Lomax’s let-ter, explaining that the manuscript had passed out of my keeping, andtherefore regretfully declining Lord Caterham’s kind invitation. But after Ihad done so, I remembered something which had up till then escaped mymemory.” He paused. The moment had come for skating over thin ice. “Imust tell you that in my struggle with the waiter Giuseppe, I had wrestedfrom him a small bit of paper with some words scribbled28 on it. They hadconveyed nothing to me at the time, but I still had them, and the mentionof Chimneys recalled them to me. I got the torn scrap29 out and looked at it.
It was as I had thought. Here is the piece of paper, gentlemen, you can seefor yourselves. The words on it are ‘Chimneys 11:45 Thursday.’ ”
Battle examined the paper attentively30.
“Of course,” continued Anthony, “the word Chimneys might have noth-ing whatever to do with this house. On the other hand, it might. And un-doubtedly this Giuseppe was a thieving rascal31. I made up my mind to mo-tor down here last night, satisfy myself that all was as it should be, put upat the inn, and call upon Lord Caterham in the morning and put him onhis guard in case some mischief32 should be intended during the weekend.”
“Quite so,” said Lord Caterham encouragingly. “Quite so.”
“I was late getting here—had not allowed enough time. Consequently Istopped the car climbed over the wall and ran across the park. When I ar-rived on the terrace, the whole house was dark and silent. I was just turn-ing away when I heard a shot. I fancied that it came from inside the house,and I ran back, crossed the terrace, and tried the windows. But they werefastened, and there was no sound of any kind from inside the house. Iwaited a while, but the whole place was as still as the grave, so I made upmy mind that I had made a mistake, and that what I had heard was a straypoacher—quite natural conclusion to come to under the circumstances, Ithink.”
“Quite natural,” said Superintendent Battle expressionlessly.
“I went on to the inn, put up as I said—and heard the news this morn-ing. I realized, of course, that I was a suspicious character—bound to beunder the circumstances, and came up here to tell my story, hoping itwasn’t going to be handcuffs for one.”
There was a pause. Colonel Melrose looked sideways at SuperintendentBattle.
“I think the story seems clear enough,” he remarked.
“Yes,” said Battle. “I don’t think we’ll be handing out any handcuffs thismorning.”
“Any questions, Battle?”
“There’s one thing I’d like to know. What was this manuscript?”
He looked across at George, and the latter replied with a trace of unwill-ingness:
“The memoirs33 of the late Count Stylptitch. You see—”
“You needn’t say anything more,” said Battle. “I see perfectly34.”
He turned to Anthony.
“Do you know who it was that was shot, Mr. Cade?”
“At the Jolly Dog it was understood to be a Count Stanislaus or somesuch name.”
“Tell him,” said Battle laconically35 to George Lomax.
George was clearly reluctant, but he was forced to speak:
“The gentleman who was staying here incognito36 as Count Stanislaus wasHis Highness Prince Michael of Herzoslovakia.”
Anthony whistled.
“That must be deuced awkward,” he remarked.
Superintendent Battle, who had been watching Anthony closely, gave ashort grunt37 as though satisfied of something, and rose abruptly to his feet.
“There are one or two questions I’d like to ask Mr. Cade,” he announced.
“I’ll take him into the Council Chamber38 with me if I may.”
“Certainly, certainly,” said Lord Caterham. “Take him anywhere youlike.”
Anthony and the detective went out together.
The body had been moved from the scene of the tragedy. There was adark stain on the floor where it had lain, but otherwise there was nothingto suggest that a tragedy had ever occurred. The sun poured in throughthe three windows, flooding the room with light, and bringing out the mel-low tone of the old panelling. Anthony looked around him with approval.
“Very nice,” he commented. “Nothing much to beat old England, isthere?”
“Did it seem to you at first that it was in this room the shot was fired?”
asked the superintendent, not replying to Anthony’s eulogium.
“Let me see.”
“Anthony opened the window and went out on the terrace, looking up atthe house.
“Yes, that’s the room all right,” he said. “It’s built out, and occupies allthe corner. If the shot had been fired anywhere else, it would have soun-ded from the left, but this was from behind me or to the right if anything.
That’s why I thought of poachers. It’s at the extremity39 of the wing, yousee.”
He stepped back across the threshold, and asked suddenly, as thoughthe idea had just struck him:
“But why do you ask? You know he was shot here, don’t you?”
“Ah!” said the superintendent. “We never know as much as we’d like toknow. But, yes, he was shot here all right. Now you said something abouttrying the windows, didn’t you?”
“Yes. They were fastened from the inside.”
“How many of them did you try?”
“All three of them.”
“Sure of that, sir?”
“I’m in the habit of being sure. Why do you ask?”
“That’s a funny thing,” said the superintendent.
“What’s a funny thing?”
“When the crime was discovered this morning, the middle one was open—not latched40, that is to say.”
“Whew!” said Anthony, sinking down on the window seat, and takingout his cigarette case. “That’s rather a blow. That opens up quite a differ-ent aspect of the case. It leaves us two alternatives. Either he was killed bysomeone in the house, and that someone unlatched the window after Ihad gone to make it look like an outside job—incidentally with me as LittleWillie—or else, not to mince41 matters, I’m lying. I daresay you incline to thesecond possibility, but, upon my honour, you’re wrong.”
“Nobody’s going to leave this house until I’m through with them, I cantell you that,” said Superintendent Battle grimly.
Anthony looked at him keenly.
“How long have you had the idea that it might be an inside job?” heasked.
Battle smiled.
“I’ve had a notion that way all along. Your trail was a bit too—flaring, ifI may put it that way. As soon as your boots fitted the footmarks, I beganto have my doubts.”
“I congratulate Scotland Yard,” said Anthony lightly.
But at that moment, the moment when Battle apparently42 admitted An-thony’s complete absence of complicity in the crime, Anthony felt morethan ever the need of being upon his guard. Superintendent Battle was avery astute43 officer. It would not do to make any slip with SuperintendentBattle about.
“That’s where it happened, I suppose?” said Anthony, nodding towardsthe dark patch upon the floor.
“Yes.”
“What was he shot with—a revolver?”
“Yes, but we shan’t know what make until they get the bullet out at theautopsy.”
“It wasn’t found then?”
“No, it wasn’t found.”
“No clues of any kind?”
“Well, we’ve got this.”
Rather after the manner of a conjurer, Superintendent Battle produceda half sheet of notepaper. And, as he did so, he again watched Anthonyclosely without seeming to do so.
But Anthony recognized the design upon it without any sign of con-sternation.
“Aha! Comrades of the Red Hand again. If they’re going to scatter44 thissort of thing about, they ought to have it lithographed. It must be a fright-ful nuisance doing everyone separately. Where was this found?”
“Underneath the body. You’ve seen it before, sir?”
Anthony recounted to him in detail his short encounter with that public-spirited association.
“The idea is, I suppose, that the Comrades did him in.”
“Do you think it likely, sir?”
“Well, it would be in keeping with their propaganda. But I’ve alwaysfound that those who talk most about blood have never actually seen itrun. I shouldn’t have said the Comrades had the guts45 myself. And they’resuch picturesque46 people too. I don’t see one of them disguising himself asa suitable guest for a country house. Still, one never knows.”
“Quite right, Mr. Cade. One never knows.”
Anthony looked suddenly amused.
“I see the big idea now. Open window, trail of footprints, suspiciousstranger at the village inn. But I can assure you, my dear Superintendent,that whatever I am, I am not the local agent of the Red Hand.”
Superintendent Battle smiled a little. Then he played his last card.
“Would you have any objection to seeing the body?” he shot out sud-denly.
“None whatever,” rejoined Anthony.
Battle took a key from his pocket, and preceding Anthony down the cor-ridor, paused at a door and unlocked it. It was one of the smaller drawingrooms. The body lay on a table covered with a sheet.
Superintendent Battle waited until Anthony was beside him, and thenwhisked away the sheet suddenly.
An eager light sprang into his eyes at the half-uttered exclamation andthe start of surprise which the other gave.
“So you do recognize him, Mr. Cade?” he said, in a voice that he strove torender devoid47 of triumph.
“I’ve seen him before, yes,” said Anthony, recovering himself. “But notas Prince Michael Obolovitch. He purported48 to come from Messrs. Balder-son and Hodgkins, and he called himself Mr. Holmes.”
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1
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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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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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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habitually
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nervously
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portentously
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trespassing
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| [法]非法入侵 | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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embroiled
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deliberately
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decided
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trifling
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alteration
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conversing
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exclamation
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strictly
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abruptly
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incurred
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bent
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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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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memoirs
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perfectly
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laconically
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| adv.简短地，简洁地 | |
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incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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grunt
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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extremity
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latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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apparently
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astute
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scatter
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guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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purported
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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