Shaking off the feelings that oppressed me, I went quickly upstairs. I hadno difficulty in finding the room of the tragedy. On the day the body wasdiscovered it had rained heavily, and large muddy boots had trampled1 theuncarpeted floor in every direction. I wondered if the murderer had leftany footmarks the previous day. It was likely that the police would be reti-cent on the subject if he had, but on consideration I decided2 it was un-likely. The weather had been fine and dry.
There was nothing of interest about the room. It was almost square withtwo big bay windows, plain white walls and a bare floor, the boards beingstained round the edges where the carpet had ceased. I searched it care-fully, but there was not so much as a pin lying about. The gifted young de-tective did not seem likely to discover a neglected clue.
I had brought with me a pencil and notebook. There did not seem muchto note, but I duly dotted down a brief sketch3 of the room to cover my dis-appointment at the failing of my quest. As I was in the act of returning thepencil to my bag, it slipped from my fingers and rolled along the floor.
The Mill House was really old, and the floors were very uneven4. Thepencil rolled steadily5, with increasing momentum6, until it came to rest un-der one of the windows. In the recess7 of each window there was a broadwindow seat, underneath8 which there was a cupboard. My pencil was ly-ing right against the cupboard door. The cupboard was shut, but it sud-denly occurred to me that if it had been open my pencil would have rolledinside. I opened the door, and my pencil immediately rolled in andsheltered modestly in the farthest corner. I retrieved9 it, noting as I did sothat owing to lack of light and the peculiar10 formation of the cupboard onecould not see it, but had to feel for it. Apart from my pencil the cupboardwas empty, but being thorough by nature I tried the one under the oppos-ite window.
At first sight, it looked as though that also was empty, but I grubbedabout perseveringly11, and was rewarded by feeling my hand close on ahard paper cylinder12 which lay in a sort of trough, or depression, in the farcorner of the cupboard. As soon as I had it in my hand, I knew what itwas. A roll of Kodak films. Here was a find!
I realized, of course, that these films might very well be an old roll be-longing to Sir Eustace Pedler which had rolled in here and had not beenfound when the cupboard was emptied. But I did not think so. The red pa-per was far too fresh-looking. It was just as dusty as it would have beenhad it lain there for two or three days—that is to say, since the murder.
Had it been there for any length of time, it would have been thickly-coated.
Who had dropped it? The woman or the man? I remembered that thecontents of her handbag had appeared to be intact. If it had been jerkedopen in the struggle and the roll of films had fallen out, surely some of theloose money would have been scattered13 about also? No, it was not the wo-man who had dropped the films.
I sniffed14 suddenly and suspiciously. Was the smell of mothballs becom-ing an obsession15 with me? I could swear that the roll of films smelt16 of italso. I held them under my nose. They had, as usual, a strong smell oftheir own, but apart from that I could clearly detect the odour I disliked somuch. I soon found the cause. A minute thread of cloth had caught on arough edge of the centre wood, and that shred17 was strongly impregnatedwith mothballs. At some time or another the films had been carried in theovercoat pocket of the man who was killed in the Tube. Was it he who haddropped them here? Hardly. His movements were all accounted for.
No, it was the other man, the “doctor.” He had taken the films when hehad taken the paper. It was he who had dropped them here during hisstruggle with the woman.
I had got my clue! I would have the roll developed, and then I wouldhave further developments to work upon.
Very elated, I left the house, returned the keys to Mrs. James and mademy way as quickly as possible to the station. On the way back to town, Itook out my paper and studied it afresh. Suddenly the figures took on anew significance. Suppose they were a date? 17 1 22. The 17th of January,1922. Surely that must be it! Idiot that I was not to have thought of it be-fore. But in that case I must find out the whereabouts of Kilmorden Castle,for today was actually the 14th. Three days. Little enough—almost hope-less when one had no idea of where to look!
It was too late to hand in my roll today. I had to hurry home to Kensing-ton so as not to be late for dinner. It occurred to me that there was an easyway of verifying whether some of my conclusions were correct. I askedMr. Flemming whether there had been a camera amongst the dead man’sbelongings. I knew that he had taken an interest in the case and was con-versant with all the details.
To my surprise and annoyance18 he replied that there had been no cam-era. All Carton’s effects had been gone over very carefully in the hopes offinding something that might throw light upon his state of mind. He waspositive that there had been no photographic apparatus19 of any kind.
That was rather a setback20 to my theory. If he had no camera, whyshould he be carrying a roll of films?
I set out early next morning to take my precious roll to be developed. Iwas so fussy21 that I went all the way to Regent Street to the big Kodakplace. I handed it in and asked for a print of each film. The man finishedstacking together a heap of films packed in yellow tin cylinders22 for thetropics, and picked up my roll.
He looked at me.
“You’ve made a mistake, I think,” he said, smiling.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m sure I haven’t.”
“You’ve given me the wrong roll. This is an unexposed one.”
I walked out with what dignity I could muster23. I dare say it is good forone now and again to realize what an idiot one can be! But nobody rel-ishes the process.
And then, just as I was passing one of the big shipping24 offices, I came toa sudden halt. In the window was a beautiful model of one of the com-pany’s boats, and it was labelled “Kenilworth Castle.” A wild idea shotthrough my brain. I pushed the door open and went in. I went up to thecounter and in a faltering25 voice (genuine this time!) I murmured:
“Kilmorden Castle?”
“On the 17th from Southampton. Cape26 Town? First or second class?”
“How much is it?”
“First class, eighty-seven pounds—”
I interrupted him. The coincidence was too much for me. Exactly theamount of my legacy27! I would put all my eggs in one basket.
“First class,” I said.
I was now definitely committed to the adventure.
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1
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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perseveringly
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| 坚定地 | |
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cylinder
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| n.圆筒，柱(面)，汽缸 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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14
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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setback
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| n.退步，挫折，挫败 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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22
cylinders
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| n.圆筒( cylinder的名词复数 )；圆柱；汽缸；（尤指用作容器的）圆筒状物 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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