I got an opportunity of tackling Colonel Race on the following morning.
The auction1 of the sweep had just been concluded, and we walked up anddown the deck together.
“How’s the gipsy this morning? Longing2 for land and her caravan3?”
I shook my head.
“Now that the sea is behaving so nicely, I feel I should like to stay on itforever and ever.”
“What enthusiasm!”
“Well, isn’t it lovely this morning?”
We leant together over the rail. It was a glassy calm. The sea looked asthough it had been oiled. There were great patches of colour on it, blue,pale green, emerald, purple and deep orange, like a cubist picture. Therewas an occasional flash of silver that showed the flying fish. The air wasmoist and warm, almost sticky. Its breath was like a perfumed caress4.
“That was a very interesting story you told us last night,” I said, breakingthe silence.
“Which one?”
“The one about the diamonds.”
“I believe women are always interested in diamonds.”
“Of course we are. By the way, what became of the other young man?
You said there were two of them.”
“Young Lucas? Well, of course, they couldn’t prosecute5 one without theother, so he went scot-free too.”
“And what happened to him?—eventually, I mean. Does anyone know?”
Colonel Race was looking straight ahead of him out to sea. His face wasas devoid6 of expression as a mask, but I had an idea that he did not likemy questions. Nevertheless, he replied readily enough.
“He went to the War and acquitted7 himself bravely. He was reportedmissing and wounded—believed killed.”
That told me what I wanted to know. I asked no more. But more thanever I wondered how much Colonel Race knew. The part he was playing inall this puzzled me.
One other thing I did. That was to interview the night steward8. With alittle financial encouragement, I soon got him to talk.
“The lady wasn’t frightened, was she miss? It seemed a harmless sort ofjoke. A bet, or so I understood.”
I got it all out of him, little by little. On the voyage from Cape9 Town toEngland one of the passengers had handed him a roll of film with instruc-tions that they were to be dropped on to the bunk10 in Cabin 71 at 1 am onJanuary 22nd on the outward journey. A lady would be occupying thecabin, and the affair was described as a bet. I gathered the steward hadbeen liberally paid for his part in the transaction. The lady’s name had notbeen mentioned. Of course, as Mrs. Blair went straight into Cabin 71, in-terviewing the purser as soon as she got on board, it never occurred to thesteward that she was not the lady in question. The name of the passengerwho had arranged the transaction was Carton, and his description talliedexactly with that of the man killed on the Tube.
So one mystery, at all events, was cleared up, and the diamonds wereobviously the key to the whole situation.
Those last days on the Kilmorden seemed to pass very quickly. As wedrew nearer and nearer to Cape Town, I was forced to consider carefullymy future plans. There were so many people I wanted to keep an eye on.
Mr. Chichester, Sir Eustace and his secretary, and — yes, Colonel Race!
What was I to do about it? Naturally it was Chichester who had first claimon my attention. Indeed, I was on the point of reluctantly dismissing SirEustace and Mr. Pagett from their position of suspicious characters whena chance conversation awakened11 fresh doubts in my mind.
I had forgotten Mr. Pagett’s incomprehensible emotion at the mention ofFlorence. On the last evening onboard we were all sitting on deck and SirEustace addressed a perfectly12 innocent question to his secretary. I forgetexactly what it was, something to do with railway delays in Italy, but atonce I noticed that Mr. Pagett was displaying the same uneasiness whichhad caught my attention before. When Sir Eustace claimed Mrs. Blair for adance, I quickly moved into the chair next to the secretary. I was determ-ined to get to the bottom of the matter.
“I have always longed to go to Italy,” I said. “And especially to Florence.
Didn’t you enjoy it very much there?”
“Indeed I did, Miss Beddingfeld. If you will excuse me, there is some cor-respondence of Sir Eustace’s that—”
I took hold of him firmly by his coat sleeve.
“Oh, you mustn’t run away!” I cried with the skittish13 accent of an elderlydowager. “I’m sure Sir Eustace wouldn’t like you to leave me alone withno one to talk to. You never seem to want to talk about Florence. Oh, Mr.
Pagett, I believe you have a guilty secret!”
I still had my hand on his arm, and I could feel the sudden start he gave.
“Not at all, Miss Beddingfeld, not at all,” he said earnestly. “I should beonly too delighted to tell you all about it, but there really are some cables—”
“Oh, Mr. Pagett, what a thin pretence14! I shall tell Sir Eustace—”
I got no further. He gave another jump. The man’s nerves seemed in ashocking state.
“What is it you want to know?”
The resigned martyrdom of his tone made me smile inwardly.
“Oh, everything! The pictures, the olive trees—”
I paused, rather at a loss myself.
“I suppose you speak Italian?” I resumed.
“Not a word, unfortunately. But of course, with hall porters and—er—guides.”
“Exactly,” I hastened to reply. “And which was your favourite picture?”
“Oh, er—the Madonna—er, Raphael, you know.”
“Dear old Florence,” I murmured sentimentally15. So picturesque16 on thebanks of the Arno. A beautiful river. And the Duomo, you remember theDuomo?”
“Of course, of course.”
“Another beautiful river, is it not?” I hazarded. “Almost more beautifulthan the Arno?”
“Decidedly so, I should say.”
Emboldened18 by the success of my little trap, I proceeded further. Butthere was little room for doubt. Mr. Pagett delivered himself into myhands with every word he uttered. The man had never been in Florence inhis life.
But if not in Florence, where had he been? In England? Actually in Eng-land at the time of the Mill House Mystery? I decided17 on a bold step.
“The curious thing is,” I said, “that I fancied I had seen you before some-where. But I must be mistaken—since you were in Florence at the time.
And yet—”
I studied him frankly19. There was a hunted look in his eyes. He passedhis tongue over dry lips.
“Where—er—where—”
“Did I think I had seen you?” I finished for him. “At Marlow. You knowMarlow? Why, of course, how stupid of me, Sir Eustace has a house there!”
But with an incoherent muttered excuse, my victim rose and fled.
That night I invaded Suzanne’s cabin, alight with excitement.
“You see, Suzanne,” I urged, as I finished my tale, “he was in England, inMarlow, at the time of the murder. Are you so sure now that ‘The Man inthe Brown Suit’ is guilty?”
“I’m sure of one thing,” Suzanne said, twinkling, unexpectedly.
“What’s that?”
“That ‘The Man in the Brown Suit’ is better looking than poor Mr. Pagett.
No, Anne, don’t get cross. I was only teasing. Sit down here. Joking apart, Ithink you’ve made a very important discovery. Up till now, we’ve con-sidered Pagett as having an alibi20. Now we know he hasn’t.”
“Exactly,” I said. “We must keep an eye on him.”
“As well as everybody else,” she said ruefully. “Well, that’s one of thethings I wanted to talk to you about. That—and finance. No, don’t stickyour nose in the air. I know you are absurdly proud and independent, butyou’ve got to listen to horse sense over this. We’re partners—I wouldn’t of-fer you a penny because I liked you, or because you’re a friendless girl—what I want is a thrill, and I’m prepared to pay for it. We’re going into thistogether regardless of expense. To begin with you’ll come with me to theMount Nelson Hotel at my expense, and we’ll plan out our campaign.”
We argued the point. In the end I gave in. But I didn’t like it. I wanted todo the thing on my own.
“That’s settled,” said Suzanne at last, getting up and stretching herselfwith a big yawn. “I’m exhausted21 with my own eloquence22. Now then, let usdiscuss our victims. Mr. Chichester is going on to Durban. Sir Eustace isgoing to the Mount Nelson Hotel in Cape Town and then up to Rhodesia.
He’s going to have a private car on the railway, and in a moment of expan-sion, after his fourth glass of champagne23 the other night, he offered me aplace in it. I daresay he didn’t really mean it, but, all the same, he can’tvery well back out if I hold him to it.”
“Good,” I approved. “You keep an eye on Sir Eustace and Mr. Pagett, andI take on Chichester. But what about Colonel Race?”
Suzanne looked at me queerly.
“Anne, you can’t possibly suspect—”
“I do. I suspect everybody. I’m in the mood when one looks round forthe most unlikely person.”
“Colonel Race is going to Rhodesia too,” said Suzanne thoughtfully. “Ifwe could arrange for Sir Eustace to invite him also—”
“You can manage it. You can manage anything.”
“I love butter,” purred Suzanne.
We parted on the understanding that Suzanne should employ her tal-ents to her best advantage.
I felt too excited to go to bed immediately. It was my last night onboard.
Early tomorrow morning we should be in Table Bay.
I slipped up on deck. The breeze was fresh and cool. The boat wasrolling a little in the choppy sea. The decks were dark and deserted24. It wasafter midnight.
I leaned over the rail, watching the phosphorescent trail of foam25. Aheadof us lay Africa, we were rushing towards it through the dark water. I feltalone in a wonderful world. Wrapped in a strange peace, I stood there,taking no heed26 of time, lost in a dream.
And suddenly I had a curious intimate premonition of danger. I hadheard nothing, but I swung round instinctively27. A shadowy form had creptup behind me. As I turned, it sprang. One hand gripped my throat, stiflingany cry I might have uttered. I fought desperately28, but I had no chance. Iwas half choking from the grip on my throat, but I bit and clung andscratched in the most approved feminine fashion. The man was handi-capped by having to keep me from crying out. If he had succeeded inreaching me unawares it would have been easy enough for him to slingme overboard with a sudden heave. The sharks would have taken care ofthe rest.
Struggle as I would, I felt myself weakening. My assailant felt it too. Heput out all his strength. And then, running on swift noiseless feet, anothershadow joined in. With one blow of his fist, he sent my opponent crashingheadlong to the deck. Released, I fell back against the rail, sick and trem-bling.
My rescuer turned to me with a quick movement.
“You’re hurt!”
There was something savage29 in his tone—a menace against the personwho had dared to hurt me. Even before he spoke30 I had recognized him. Itwas my man—the man with the scar.
But that one moment in which his attention had been diverted to mehad been enough for the fallen enemy. Quick as a flash he had risen to hisfeet and taken to his heels down the deck. With an oath Rayburn sprangafter him.
I always hate being out of things. I joined the chase—a bad third. Roundthe deck we went to the starboard side of the ship. There by the saloondoor lay the man in a crumpled31 heap. Rayburn was bending over him.
“Did you hit him again?” I called breathlessly.
“There was no need,” he replied grimly. “I found him collapsed32 by thedoor. Or else he couldn’t get it open and is shamming33. We’ll soon seeabout that. And we’ll see who he is too.”
With a beating heart I drew nearer. I had realized at once that my as-sailant was a bigger man than Chichester. Anyway, Chichester was aflabby creature who might use a knife at a pinch, but who would havelittle strength in his bare hands.
Rayburn struck a match. We both uttered an ejaculation. The man wasGuy Pagett.
Rayburn appeared absolutely stupefied by the discovery.
“Pagett,” he muttered. “My God, Pagett.”
I felt a slight sense of superiority.
“You seem surprised.”
“I am,” he said heavily. “I never suspected —” He wheeled suddenlyround on me. “And you? You’re not? You recognized him, I suppose, whenhe attacked you?”
“No, I didn’t. All the same, I’m not so very surprised.”
He stared at me suspiciously.
“Where do you come in, I wonder? And how much do you know?”
I smiled.
“A good deal, Mr—er—Lucas!”
He caught my arm, the unconscious strength of his grip made me wince34.
“Where did you get that name?” he asked hoarsely35.
“Isn’t it yours?” I demanded sweetly. “Or do you prefer to be called ‘TheMan in the Brown Suit?’ ”
That did stagger him. He released my arm and fell back a pace or two.
“Are you a girl, or a witch?” he breathed.
“I’m a friend,” I advanced a step towards him. “I offered you my helponce—I offer it again. Will you have it?”
The fierceness of his answer took me aback.
“No. I’ll have no truck with you or with any woman. Do your damned-est.”
As before, my own temper began to rise.
“Perhaps,” I said, “you don’t realize how much in my power you are? Aword from me to the Captain—”
“Say it,” he sneered36. Then advancing with a quick step: “And whilstwe’re realizing things, my dear girl, do you realize you’re in my power thisminute? I could take you by the throat like this.” With a swift gesture hesuited the action to the word. I felt his two hands clasp my throat andpress—ever so little. “Like this—and squeeze the life out of you! And then—like our unconscious friend here, but with more success—fling yourdead body to the sharks. What do you say to that?”
I said nothing. I laughed. And yet I knew that the danger was real. Justat that moment he hated me. But I knew that I loved the danger, loved thefeeling of his hands on my throat. That I would not have exchanged thatmoment for any moment in my life.
With a short laugh he released me.
“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly37.
“Anne Beddingfeld.”
“Does nothing frighten you, Anne Beddingfeld?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, with an assumption of coolness I was far from feeling.
“Wasps, sarcastic38 women, very young men, cockroaches39, and superiorshop assistants.”
He gave the same short laugh as before. Then he stirred the unconsciousform of Pagett with his feet.
“What shall we do with this junk? Throw it overboard?” he asked care-lessly.
“If you like,” I answered with equal calm.
“I admire your wholehearted, bloodthirsty instincts, Miss Beddingfeld.
But we will leave him to recover at his leisure. He is not seriously hurt.”
“You shrink from a second murder, I see,” I said sweetly.
“A second murder?”
He looked genuinely puzzled.
“The woman at Marlow,” I reminded him, watching the effect of mywords closely.
An ugly brooding expression settled down on his face. He seemed tohave forgotten my presence.
“I might have killed her,” he said. “Sometimes I believe that I meant tokill her”
A wild rush of feeling, hatred40 of the dead woman, surged through me. Icould have killed her that moment, had she stood before me .?.?. For hemust have loved her once—he must—he must—to have felt like that!
I regained41 control of myself and spoke in my normal voice:
“We seem to have said all there is to be said—except good night.”
“Good night and good-bye, Miss Beddingfeld.”
“Au revoir, Mr. Lucas.”
Again he flinched42 at the name. He came nearer.
“Why do you say that—au revoir, I mean?”
“Because I have a fancy that we shall meet again.”
“Not if I can help it!”
Emphatic43 as his tone was, it did not offend me. On the contrary, Ihugged myself with secret satisfaction. I am not quite a fool.
“All the same,” I said gravely, “I think we shall.”
“Why?”
I shook my head, unable to explain the feeling that had actuated mywords.
“I never wish to see you again,” he said suddenly, and violently.
It was really a very rude thing to say, but I only laughed softly andslipped away into the darkness.
I heard him start after me, and then pause, and a word floated down thedeck. I think it was “witch!”
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收听单词发音
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1
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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11
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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12
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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skittish
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| adj.易激动的，轻佻的 | |
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14
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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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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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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emboldened
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| v.鼓励，使有胆量( embolden的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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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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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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cockroaches
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| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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40
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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41
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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42
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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