Nineteen
MR . KIMBLE SPEAKS
“I dunno, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Kimble.
Her husband, driven into speech by what was neither more nor less than an outrage¹, became vocal².
He shoved his cup forward.
“What you thinking of, Lily?” he demanded. “No sugar!”
Mrs. Kimble hastily remedied the outrage, and then proceeded to elaborate on her own theme.
“Thinking about this advert³, I am,” she said. “Lily Abbott, it says, plain as plain. And “formerly house-parlourmaidat St. Catherine’s Dillmouth.” That’s me, all right.”
“Ar,” agreed Mr. Kimble.
“After all these years—you must agree it’s odd, Jim.”
“Ar,” said Mr. Kimble.
“Well, what am I going to do, Jim?”
“Leave it be.”
“Suppose there’s money in it?”
There was a gurgling sound as Mr. Kimble drained his teacup to fortify⁴ himself for the mental effort of embarkingon a long speech. He pushed his cup along and prefaced his remarks with a laconic⁵: “More.” Then he got under way.
“You went on a lot at one time about what ’appened at St. Catherine’s. I didn’t take much account of it—reckonedas it was mostly foolishness—women’s chatter⁶. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe something did ’appen. If so it’s policebusiness and you don’t want to be mixed up in it. All over and done with, ain’t it? You leave well alone, my girl.”
“All very well to say that. It may be money as has been left me in a will. Maybe Mrs. Halliday’s alive all the timeand now she’s dead and left me something in ’er will.”
“Left you something in ’er will? What for? Ar!” said Mr. Kimble, reverting⁷ to his favourite monosyllable toexpress scorn.
“Even if it’s police … You know, Jim, there’s a big reward sometimes for anyone as can give information to catcha murderer.”

分享到：