Giuseppe Bolsano was a middle-aged1 man, slight with a rather monkey-
like intelligent face. He was nervous, but not unduly2 so. His English was
fluent since he had, he explained, been in the country since he was sixteen
and had married an English wife.
Kemp treated him sympathetically.
“Now then, Giuseppe, let’s hear whether anything more has occurred to
you about this.”
“It is for me very unpleasant. It is I who serve that table. I who pour out
the wine. People will say that I am off my head, that I put poison into the
wine glasses. It is not so, but that is what people will say. Already, Mr.
Goldstein says it is better that I take a week away from work—so that
people do not ask me questions there and point me out. He is a fair man,
and just, and he knows it is not my fault, and that I have been there for
many years, so he does not dismiss me as some restaurant owners would
do. M. Charles, too, he has been kind, but all the same it is a great misfor-
tune3 for me—and it makes me afraid. Have I an enemy, I ask myself?”
“Well,” said Kemp at his most wooden, “have you?”
The sad monkeyface twitched4 into laughter. Giuseppe stretched out his
arms.
“I? I have not an enemy in the world. Many good friends but no en-
emies.”
Kemp grunted5.
“Now about last night. Tell me about the champagne6.”
“It was Clicquot, 1928—very good and expensive wine. Mr. Barton was
like that—he liked good food and drink—the best.”
“Had he ordered the wine beforehand?”
“Yes. He had arranged everything with Charles.”
“What about the vacant place at the table?”
“That, too, he had arranged for. He told Charles and he told me. A young
lady would occupy it later in the evening.”
“A young lady?” Race and Kemp looked at each other. “Do you know
who the young lady was?”
Giuseppe shook his head.
“No, I know nothing about that. She was to come later, that is all I
heard.”
“Go on about the wine. How many bottles?”
“Two bottles and a third to be ready if needed. The first bottle was fin-
ished quite quickly. The second I open not long before the cabaret. I fill up
the glasses and put the bottle in the ice bucket.”
“When did you last notice Mr. Barton drinking from his glass?”
“Let me see, when the cabaret was over, they drink the young lady’s
health. It is her birthday so I understand. Then they go and dance. It is
after that, when they come back, that Mr. Barton drinks and in a minute,
like that! he is dead.”
“Had you filled up the glasses during the time they were dancing?”
“No, monsieur. They were full when they drank to mademoiselle and
they did not drink much, only a few mouthfuls. There was plenty left in
the glasses.”
“Did anyone—anyone at all—come near the table whilst they were dan-
cing?”
“No one at all, sir. I am sure of that.”
“Did they all go to dance at the same time?”
“Yes.”
“And came back at the same time?”
Giuseppe screwed up his eyes in an effort of memory.
“Mr. Barton he came back first—with the young lady. He was stouter7
than the rest — he did not dance quite so long, you comprehend. Then
came the fair gentleman, Mr. Farraday, and the young lady in black. Lady
Alexandra Farraday and the dark gentleman came last.”
“You know Mr. Farraday and Lady Alexandra?”
“Yes, sir. I have seen them in the Luxembourg often. They are very dis-
tinguished.”
“Now, Giuseppe, would you have seen if one of those people had put
something in Mr. Barton’s glass?”
“That I cannot say, sir. I have my service, the other two tables in the al-
cove8, and two more in the main restaurant. There are dishes to serve. I do
not watch at Mr. Barton’s table. After the cabaret everyone nearly gets up
and dances, so at that time I am standing9 still—and that is why I can be
sure that no one approached the table then. But as soon as people sit
down, I am at once very busy.”
Kemp nodded.
“But I think,” Giuseppe continued, “that it would be very difficult to do
without being observed. It seems to me that only Mr. Barton himself could
do it. But you do not think so, no?”
He looked inquiringly at the police officer.
“So that’s your idea, is it?”
“Naturally I know nothing—but I wonder. Just a year ago that beautiful
lady, Mrs. Barton, she kills herself. Could it not be that Mr. Barton he
grieves so much that he too decides to kill himself the same way? It would
be poetic10. Of course it is not good for the restaurant—but a gentleman who
is going to kill himself would not think of that.”
He looked eagerly from one to the other of the two men.
Kemp shook his head.
“I doubt if it’s as easy as that,” he said.
He asked a few more questions, then Giuseppe was dismissed.
As the door closed behind Giuseppe, Race said:
“I wonder if that’s what we are meant to think?”
“Grieving husband kills himself on anniversary of wife’s death? Not that
it was the anniversary—but near enough.”
“It was All Soul’s Day,” said Race.
“True. Yes, it’s possible that was the idea—but if so, whoever it was can’t
have known about those letters being kept and that Mr. Barton had con-
sulted you and shown them to Iris11 Marle.”
He glanced at his watch.
“I’m due at Kidderminster House at 12:30. We’ve time before that to go
and see those people at the other two tables—some of them at any rate.
Come with me, won’t you, colonel?”

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收听单词发音

1
middle-aged
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adj.中年的 | |
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2
unduly
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adv.过度地,不适当地 | |
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3
tune
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n.调子;和谐,协调;v.调音,调节,调整 | |
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4
twitched
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vt.& vi.(使)抽动,(使)颤动(twitch的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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5
grunted
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(猪等)作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 ); (指人)发出类似的哼声; 咕哝着说 | |
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6
champagne
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n.香槟酒;微黄色 | |
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7
stouter
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粗壮的( stout的比较级 ); 结实的; 坚固的; 坚定的 | |
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8
cove
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n.小海湾,小峡谷 | |
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9
standing
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n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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10
poetic
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adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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11
iris
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n.虹膜,彩虹 | |
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