Foreword
CARDS ON THE TABLE
Foreword by the Author
There is an idea prevalent that a detective story is rather like a big race a number of starters--likely horses and jockeys. "You pays your money and you takes your choice!" The favorite is by common consent the opposite of a favorite on the racecourse. In other words he is likely to be a complete outsider! Spot the least likely person to have committed the crime and in nine times out of ten your task is finished.
Since I do not want my faithful readers to fling away this book in disgust, I prefer to Warn them beforehand that this is not that kind of book. There are only four starters and any one of them, given the right circumstances, might have committed the crime. That knocks out forcibly the element of surprise. Nevertheless there should be, I think, an equal interest attached to four persons, each of whom has committed murder and is capable of committing further murders. They are four widely divergent types; the motive that drives each one of them to crime is peculiar to that person, and each one would employ a different method. The deduction must, therefore, be entirely psychological, but it is none the less interesting for that, because when all is said and done it is the mind of the murderer that is of supreme interest.
I may say, as an additional argument in favor of this story, that it was one of Hercule Poirot's favorite cases. His friend, Captain Hastings, however, when Poirot described it to him, considered it very dull! I wonder with which of them my readers will agree.
前言
前言
人们有一种普遍的想法:一个侦探故事就像一场盛大的赛马有许多可下注的对象，包括赛马和它们的骑师。“你付了钱，下你的注!”但通常最热门的选择和实际赛马中遇到的情况正相反，换句话说，罪犯有可能完全是个外来者。找到最不可能犯罪的那个人，认定他就是罪犯，十有八九你是不会错的。
我不希望我忠实的读者厌烦地把这本书丢开，所以我想事先提醒你们:这本书不是这样的。只有四个候选人，而他们中的每一个，在适合的条件下，都完全有可能实施犯罪。这就把“意外”这项元素排除掉了。而且我认为应该让每个人都同样有趣，因此设定他们都曾是谋杀犯，并很有可能再干一次。这四个人分属四种大不相同的类型，每个人谋杀的动机都只属于那个人，谋杀的手段也各有不同。这样一来，案情的分析必须完全是心理层面的。但这并不会减少乐趣，因为所有的语言和行动都表现的是我们最感兴趣的人--那个谋杀犯一一的心理活动。
我想为这个故事再补充几句话:这是赫尔克里•波洛最喜欢的案件之一。但当波洛把它描述给他的朋友黑斯廷斯上尉时，后者却觉得极为无聊。我很想知道，我的读者究竟会站在波洛那边，还是黑斯廷斯那边呢?
阿加莎•克里斯蒂
CHAPTER 1 Mr. Shaitana
CHAPTER 1 Mr. Shaitana
"Dear Mr. Poirot!"
It was a soft purring voicc a voice/used deliberately as an inStrument--nothing impulsive or unpremeditated about it. Hercule Poirot swung round. He bowed.
He shook hands ceremoniously.
There was something in his eye that was unusual. One would have said that this chance encounter awakened in him an emotion that he seldom had occasion to feel.
"My dear Mr. Shaitana," he said.
They both paused. They were like duellists en garde.
Around them a well-dressed languid London crowd eddied mildly. Voices drawled or murmured.
"Darlingxquisite!"
"Simply divine, aren't they, my dear?"
It was the Exhibition of Snuff-Boxes at Wessex House. Admission one guinea, in aid of the London hospitals.
"My dear man," said Mr. Shaitana, "how nice to see you! Not hanging or guillotining much just at present? Slack season in the criminal world? Or is there to be a robbery here this afternoon--that would be too delicious."
"Alas, Monsieur," said Poirot. "I am here in a purely private capacity."
Mr. Shaitana was diverted for a moment by a Lovely Young Thing with tight poodle curls up one side of her head and three cornucopias in black straw on the other.
He said:
"My dear--why didn't you come to my party? It really was a marvellous party! Quite a lot of people actually spoke to me! One woman even said 'How do you do,' and 'Good-bye' and 'Thank you so much' but of course she came from a Garden City, poor dear!"
While the Lovely Young Thing made a suitable reply, Poirot allowed himselfa good study of the hirsute adornment on Mr. Shaitana's upper lip.
A fine moustache a very fine moustache--the only moustache in London, perhaps, that could compete with that of M. Hercule Poirot.
"But it is not so luxuriant," he murmured to himself. "No, decidedly it is inferior in every respect. Tout de rrme, it catches the eye."
The whole of Mr. Shaitana's person caught the eyc it was designed to do so. He deliberately attempted a Mephistophelian effect. He was tall and thin, his face was long and melancholy, his. eyebrows were heavfiy accented and jet black, he wore a moustache with stiffwaxed ends and a tiny black imperial. His clothes were works of art--of exquisite cut but with a suggestion of the bizarre. Every healthy Englishman who saw him longed earnestly and fervently to kick him! They said, with a singular lack of originality, "There's that damned Dago, Shaitana!" Their wives, daughters, sisters, aunts, mothers, and even grandmothers said, varying the idiom according to their generation, words to this effect: "I know, my dear. Of course, he is too terrible. But so rich! And such marvellous parties! And he's always got something amusing and spiteful to tell you about people." Whether Mr. Shaitana was an Argentine, or a Portuguese, or a Greek, or some other nationality rightly despised by the insular Briton, nobody knew. But three facts were quite certain: He existed richly and beautifully in a super flat in Park Lane. He gave wonderful parties--large parties, small parties, macabre parties, respectable parties and definitely "queer" parties. He was a man of whom nearly everybody was a little afraid. Why this last was so can hardly be stated in definite words. There was a feeling, perhaps, that he knew a little too much about everybody. And there was a feeling, too, that his sense of humour was a curious one. People nearly always felt that it would be better not to risk offending Mr. Shaitana. It was his humour this afternoon to bait that ridiculous-looking little man, Hercule Poirot. "So even a policeman needs recreation?" he said. "You study the art in your old age, M. Poirot." Poirot smiled good-humouredly. "I see," he said, "that you yourself have lent three snuffboxes to the Exhibition." Mr. Shaitana waved a deprecating hand. "One picks up trifles here and there. You must come to my flat one day. I have some interesting pieces. I do not confine myself to any particular period or class of object.' "Your tastes are catholic," said Poirot smiling. "As you say." Suddenly Mr. Shaitana's eyes danced, the corners of his lips curled up, his eyebrows assumed a fantastic tilt. "I could even show you objects in your own line, M. Poirot!" "You have then a private 'Black Museum.'" "Bah!" Mr. Shaitana snapped disdainful fingers. "The cup used by the Brighton murderer, the jemmy of a celebrated burglar absurd childishness! I should never burden myself with rubbish like that. I collect only the best objects of their kind." "And what do you consider the best objects, artistically speaking, in crime?" inquired Poirot. Mr. Shaitana leaned forward and laid two fingers on Poirot's shoulder. He hissed his words dramatically. "The human beings who commit them, M. Poirot." Poirot's eyebrows rose a trifle. "Aha, I have startled you," said Shaitana. "My dear, dear man, you and I look on these things as from poles apart! For you crime is a matter of routine: a murder, an investigation, a clue, and ultimately (for you are undoubtedly an able fellow) a conviction. Such banalities would not interest me! I am not interested in poor specimens of any kind. And the caught murderer is necessarily one of the failures. He is second-rate. No, I look on the matter from the artistic point of view. I collect only the best!" "The best being ?" asked Poirot. "My dear fellow--the ones who have got away with it! The successes! The criminals who lead an agreeable life which no breath of suspicion has ever touched.
第一章 夏塔纳先生
第一章 夏塔纳先生

"亲爱的白罗先生！" 这个人的声音软绵绵的，呼噜呼噜响－－存心做为工具使用－－不带一丝冲动或随缘的气息。赫邱里•白罗转过身子。 他鞠躬，郑重和来人握手。 他的目光颇不寻常。偶尔邂逅此人可以说勾起了他难得有机会感受的情绪。 "亲爱的夏塔纳先生，"他说。 他们俩都停住不动，象两个就位的决斗者。 他们四周有一群衣着考究，无精打采的伦敦人轻轻回旋着；说话拖拖拉拉或喃喃作响。 "亲爱的－－真精美！" "宝贝，好极了，不是吗？" 这儿是威瑟宫的鼻烟盒展览会场，门票一金尼，收入要捐给伦敦各医院。 夏塔纳先生说："亲爱的朋友，真高兴和你见面！现在很少送人上绞架或断头台啦？不法之徒的淡季？还是今天下午此地将有偷盗案？如果有，那真是太爽口了。" 白罗说："哎呀，先生，我纯粹以私人立场来这儿。" 夏塔纳先生的注意力暂时被一个"迷人的小东西"吸引住了，她的脑袋一边留着紧紧的狮子狗卷毛，另一边戴三个黑草编成的角状饰物。他说："宝贝，你为什么不赴我的宴会？真的很棒哩！很多人跟我说话。有个女人甚至说'你好'和'再见'以及'多谢你'哩－－不过她当然时某个花园城来的，可怜的宝贝！" "可爱的小东西"回了一句恰当的话，白罗则细细研究夏塔纳先生上唇的须毛。 漂亮的茈须－－非常漂亮－－全伦敦也许只有他的茈须能和赫邱里•白罗比美。 他自言自语说："不如我的华丽。不，各方面看来都差一等，不过仍然很醒目。" 夏塔纳先生整个人都很醒目－－存心设计成如此。他故意造成阴险恶魔般的效果。他又高又瘦，面孔很长很忧郁；眉毛集中，黑漆漆的；茈须僵硬，抹了油蜡，外带一小撮皇帝须。他的衣服真是艺术杰作，剪裁极佳，却有点古怪。 每一个健康的英国人看到他都恨不得踢他一脚！他们一致用缺乏创意的口吻说："喏，那就是该死的夏塔纳！"他们的妻子、女儿、姐妹、姑婶、母亲和祖母各自用她们那一带的措辞说出大意相同的话－－"亲爱的，我知道。他当然很可怕。不过他真有钱！宴会也棒极了！而且他老有一些恶毒又好玩的话来议论别人。" 谁也不知道夏塔纳先生是阿根廷人、葡萄牙人、希腊人还是其它国家的人。 不过有三件事实非常明显。 他住在公园巷的一层高级住宅，日子过得宽裕极了，美妙极了。他开过各种派对－－大宴、小宴、阴森森的宴会、高尚的宴会，以及百分之百"古怪"的宴会。几乎人人都有点怕他。 怕他的理由实在很难用确切的话说出来。大家也许觉得他对每个人的隐私都知道得太多了一些；觉得他有一种古怪的幽默感。大家几乎都认为最好别得罪夏塔纳先生。今天下午他一时兴起，想逗逗外貌可笑的小个子赫邱里•白罗。他说："原来警察也需要消遣？白罗先生，你老年才研究艺术。" 白罗和颜悦色微笑着。 他说："我知道你自己借出三个鼻烟盒供他们展览。" 夏塔纳先生求饶般挥挥手。"人总是到处收集些小东西嘛。改天你一定要到我的住处来。我有一些迷人的玩意儿。我不限于收藏某一类型的物品。" 白罗笑笑说："你的欣赏力很广泛。" "说得不错。" 突然间，夏塔纳先生的眼睛一闪一闪的，嘴唇翘起，眉毛斜得怪里怪气。 "我甚至可以展示一些你们那一行的物品，白罗先生！" "你有一间私立的'黑色博物馆'？" 夏塔纳先生不屑地弹弹手指。"呸！布莱顿凶手用过的茶杯，名盗的铁橇－－幼稚得荒唐！我才不要那种废物哩。我只收集精华物品。" 白罗问道："由艺术观点来说，你认为刑案的精华时什么？" 夏塔纳先生探身向前，将两根指头放在白罗的肩膀上。他以戏剧化的口吻嘘声发言。 "是犯案的人，白罗先生。" 白罗的眉毛略略往上扬。 夏塔纳先生说："啊哈，我吓着你了。老兄，你和我活象由两极来看这件事！对你而言刑案是例行公事－－凶杀、调查、拉线索，由于你是能干的人，最后必然将凶手定罪。这种陈腔滥调我可不感兴趣！我对任何劣质的品种都不感兴趣。被逮住的杀人犯必然是失败者。他是二流的。不我由艺术观点来看这件事。我只收集最好的！" "最好的是－－"白罗问道。 "朋友－－就是顺利得手而未受处罚的人！成功者！生活惬意，未勾起一丝怀疑的不法之徒。你承认这个嗜好很有意思吧。" "我想的是另一个词汇－－不是'有意思'。" 夏塔纳不理白罗，径自嚷道："想到了！来个小晚宴！以晚宴来配合我的展览！这个主意真的好玩极了。我奇怪自己以前怎么没想到过。是的－－是的，我预先看到那种场面－－看得清清楚楚。你得给我一点时间－－下礼拜不行－－我们就订在下下星期好了。你有时间吧？我们选哪一天？" 白罗鞠躬说："下下星期的任何一天对我都适宜。" "好，那我们就约星期五吧。十八日星期五，可以。我得立刻记在小本子上。真的，这个主意我真喜欢。" 白罗慢慢地说："我不敢确定自己喜不喜欢。我并不是说我无感于你邀请的好意－－不－－不是的－－" 夏塔纳打断他的话。"只是这件事震撼了你的中产阶级情感，对不对？你得挣脱警察心态的限制。" 白罗慢慢地说："我对凶杀案确实有一种百分之百属于中产阶级的立场。" "朋友，何必呢？愚蠢又失误连连的屠杀事件－－是的，我的看法和你差不多。可是凶案能成为一种艺术哩！凶手可以成为艺术家。" "噢，我承认这一点。" "那不结了？"夏塔纳先生问道。 "但他仍是凶手呀。" "亲爱的白罗先生，把一件事情做得尽善尽美本身便是正当的理由！你只想抓住每一位凶手，给他戴上手铐，关进监牢，最后在凌晨处死他。依我看，真正成功的凶手应该领一份由公共基金拨出来的生活津贴，而且有资格应邀赴晚宴！" 白罗耸耸肩。 "我对犯罪艺术的感受力倒不象你想象中那么迟钝。我能欣赏完美的凶手；也能欣赏一头老虎－－壮观的黄褐色斑纹巨兽。可是我要从兽笼外欣赏它。我可不进去。我是说，除非责任在身，否则我不进去。夏塔纳先生，你明白，老虎也许会扑上来的。" 夏塔纳先生大笑。"我明白。凶手呢？" 白罗正色说："也许会杀人。" "亲爱的朋友－－你可真会杞人忧天！那你不肯来见见我收藏的－－老虎喽。" "正相反，我会十分着迷。" "真勇敢！" "夏塔纳先生，你不太懂我的话，我是警告你。刚才你要我承认你收藏凶手的主意很有意思，我说我想起的不是'有意思'，而是另一个词汇，就是'危险'。夏塔纳先生，我想你的嗜好可能很危险。" 夏塔纳先生笑得邪门极了。他说："那么十八日我预料你会来喽？" 白罗略微鞠躬。"十八日我会来。多谢。" 夏塔纳答道："我来安排一个小宴会。别忘了，八点钟。" 他走开了，白罗站者目送他一两分钟。 他若有所思慢慢摇摇头。
第二章 夏塔纳先生家的晚宴
第二章 夏塔纳先生家的晚宴

夏塔纳先生家的门无声无息打开了。一位头发灰白的管事拉着门请白罗进屋，事后又无声无息把门关上，机灵地为客人脱下外衣和帽子。 他以低沉没有表情的音调说："尊姓大名怎么报法？" "赫邱里•白罗先生。" 管事拉开一扇门宣布："赫邱里•白罗先生。"里面有一股细弱嗡嗡声传进门厅。 夏塔纳先生端一杯雪莉酒上前迎接。他的衣着照例完美无瑕。今天晚上恶魔般的风韵增高了几分，两道眉毛更显出嘲讽的卷花。 "我来为你介绍－－你认不认识奥利佛太太？" 他性喜炫耀，看到白罗有点吃惊，不免得意洋洋。 亚莉阿德妮•奥利佛太太是著名的侦探小说及煽情小说的作家。她曾写过不太合文法的杂文，大谈"犯罪的倾向"、"著名的情杀案"和"情杀与谋财害命"。 她也是一位激进的女权论者，每次报上刊出重要的凶杀新闻，一定有奥利佛太太的访问记出现，文中转述奥利佛太太的话说："苏格兰场的首脑若由女人来当就好了！"她十分相信女子的直觉。 此外她倒不失为讨人喜欢的中年妇女，有一股懒散的美，眼睛漂亮，肩膀结实，头上有大量的灰发，她不断试验良方，头发硬是不听话。有时候她的外表颇具知识分子气息－－额上的头发向后拢，在颈部盘成一个大髻；有时候奥利佛太太突然梳圣母型的发圈，或者一大堆略嫌不整洁的卷发。今天晚上奥利佛太太竟戴起流苏来了。 她以前在文学性的晚宴上见过白罗，遂以悦耳的低音跟白罗打招呼。 夏塔纳先生说："巴特探长你一定认识吧。" 一位高大方肩，面孔有如木雕的男士走过来。旁观者不但觉得巴特探长是木头刻的－－他甚至叫人觉得雕刻用的木料是战舰上拆下来的哩。巴特探长大概是苏格兰场的最佳代表。他的外貌素来显得鲁钝和愚蠢。巴特探长说："我认识白罗先生。" 他那张木雕般的面孔皱起来，微微一笑，接着又恢复原先毫无表情的样子。 夏塔纳先生继续介绍说："瑞斯上校。" 白罗以前没见过瑞斯上校，对他却略有所闻。他年约五十岁，黑发，外形俊秀，皮肤呈古铜色，常在大英帝国的某一前哨地点露面，尤其该地点即将有纷争的时候更是如此。"密探"是浪漫刺激的名辞，却可以向外行人精确描写瑞斯上校活动的性质和范畴。 此时白罗非常惊讶，细细评估主人幽默意图何在。 夏塔纳先生说："另外几个客人迟到了。大概该怪我。我好象告诉他们八点十五分。" 此时门开了，管事宣布说："罗勃兹医生。" 来人故意以轻松的床边步履踏进屋。他中等身材，神情愉快又多采多姿；小眼睛眨呀眨的，头发微秃，有发福的倾向，全身好象饱经洗刷和杀菌，一望而知是医生。他的态度快活自信，叫人觉得他诊断大概不会错，医疗必定讨人喜欢又有实效－－"疗养期不妨来点香槟"。一个世故的人！ "但愿没迟到吧？"罗勃兹医生蔼然说。 他跟主人握手，主人将他介绍给别的来宾。他能见到巴特，似乎特别高兴。"咦，你是苏格兰场的要人之一，对不对？真有趣！听你谈本行的失去不太应该，可是我提醒你，我要试一试喔。我对刑案素来有兴趣。医生这样大概不好，千万不能对紧张的病人说起这种话－－哈哈！"  门又开了。 "洛瑞玛太太。" 洛瑞玛太太年约六十岁，衣着考究。她的轮廓清晰迷人，白发梳得很漂亮，嗓门又脆又尖。  她走向主人说："但愿我没迟到。" 她转而问候她认识的罗勃兹医生。 管事宣布："德斯帕少校。" 德斯帕少校高高瘦瘦的，俊秀，太阳穴有个小小的伤疤。介绍完毕后，他自然而然转向瑞斯上校－－两个人马上谈起运动来，互相比较徒步旅行的经验。 厅门最后一次打开，管事宣布："梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 一位二十出头的少女走进来。她身材适中，长得很漂亮；棕色的卷发堆在颈部，两个灰色的大眼睛距离相当远，脸上扑了粉，但是没化妆。她说话慢慢的，似乎很害羞。 她说："噢，老天我是不是最晚来？" 夏塔纳先生端雪莉酒给她，并回了一句相当富丽的恭维语。他的介绍辞相当正式，简直有点拘泥。 主人撇下梅瑞迪斯小姐，让她在白罗身后啜饮雪莉酒。 "我们的朋友很古板，"白罗微笑说。 少女表示同感："我知道。现在大家都不正式介绍。他们只说'我想每个人你都认识吧'；说完就算了。" "不管人家认不认识？" "不管人家认不认识都如此。有时候很尴尬－－不过我想正式介绍比较吓人。" 她迟疑一会才说："那位是小说家奥利佛太太吧？" 当时奥利佛太太正跟罗勃兹医生讲话，低嗓门提得很高。 "医生，你躲不过女性的直觉。女人懂这些事。" 她忘记自己未露额，竟想将头发往后拢，结果被流苏挡住了。 "她就是奥利佛太太，"白罗说。 "《图书馆陈尸》是她写的？" "正是她。" 梅瑞迪斯小姐皱皱眉头。 "那个看来象木头的男士－－夏塔纳先生说他是探长？" "苏格兰场来的。" "你呢？" "我？" "白罗先生，我知道你的事迹。A.B.C.谋杀案其实是你侦破的。" "小姐，你害我难为情。" 梅瑞迪斯小姐的眉毛挤成一堆。 她说声"夏塔纳先生"然后打住了。"夏塔纳先生－－" 白罗先生平平静静说："我们不妨说他'关心刑案'。看来如此。他一定希望听我们吵架。他已经鼓动了奥利佛太太和罗勃兹医生。他们正在讨论无法追查的毒药。" 梅瑞迪斯小姐吓得略微喘气说："他真是怪人！" "罗勃兹医生？" "不，我是说夏塔纳先生。" 她抖了一下说："我觉得他一向有几分吓人。你永远不知道他心目中什么事最好玩。也许－－也许是残酷的把戏！" "譬如猎狐之类的？" 梅瑞迪斯小姐以责备的目光看他一眼。 "我意思是说－－噢！具有东方风味的事。" "他也许爱耍诈。"白罗承认说。 "折磨人？" "不，不，我是说吹牛骗人。" 梅瑞迪斯小姐说："我自认为对他不可能又怕又喜欢。"她的嗓音有气无力。 白罗向她保证说："不过你会喜欢他家的筵席。他的厨师棒极了。" 她半信半疑看看他，不觉笑了。她惊呼道："咦，我相信你颇有人情味。" "我本来就有人情味！" 梅瑞迪斯小姐说："你瞧，这些名人都很可怕。" "小姐，你不该害怕－－你应该兴奋！你应该准备好签名簿和自来水笔。" "你知道，我对刑案并不特别感兴趣。我想女人都如此；读侦探小说的往往是男人。" 赫邱里•白罗装模作样叹口气。 他咕哝道："哎呀，此时我真恨不得当影星，就是小明星也好！" 管事推开门。 他宣布说："晚餐摆好了。" 白罗的预言完全准确。晚餐很好吃，上菜的规矩也十全十美。灯光柔和，木器擦得雪亮，爱尔兰玻璃泛出蓝光。朦胧中坐在桌首的夏塔纳先生显得比平日更狰狞。他客客气气为男女人数不均而道歉。洛瑞玛太太坐在他右侧，奥利佛太太坐在他左侧。梅瑞迪斯小姐坐在巴特探长和德斯帕少校中间。白罗坐在洛瑞玛太太和罗勃兹医生中间。 医生以滑稽的口吻对他说："你可不许整个晚上独占现场唯一的漂亮姑娘。你们法国佬，你们不浪费时间的，对不对？" 白罗低声说："我正巧是比利时人。" 医生欢欢喜喜说："老兄，就女士而言，我想没有差别。" 接着他收起玩笑的态度，改用专业口吻跟另一侧的瑞斯上校谈睡眠症疗法的最新发展。 洛瑞玛太太转向白罗，谈起最近演出的戏剧。她的判断力甚佳，批评中肯。话题扯到书评方面，又转向世界政局。他发现对付知识丰富，是智慧型女子。 餐桌对面的奥利佛太太正在问德斯帕少校知不知道什么没人听过的奇毒。 "噢，有箭毒。" "老兄，老把戏！用过几百次了。我是指新的！" 德斯帕少校淡然说："原始部落相当古板。他们坚守老祖父和曾祖父当年用过的古老良方。" 奥利佛太太说："真腻人。我以为他们常试捣草药之类的东西。我以为这是探险家的好机会哩。他们可以带别人没听过的新药回家，把有钱的老叔伯全部毒死。" 德斯帕说："那你该向文明世界探求，不该找蛮荒地区。譬如现代实验室－－可培养出貌似无害却能引起重病的细菌。" 奥利佛太太说："这不合读者口味，何况名称很容易弄混淆－－葡萄球菌啦， 链球菌啦……等等－－秘书难处理，又相当枯燥，你不觉得吗？巴特探长，你以为如何？" 探长说："奥利佛太太，在真实的人生中，暴徒懒得耍阴险。他们往往沿用砒霜，因为砒霜好用又容易取得。" 奥利佛太太说："胡扯。只是有些刑案你们苏格兰场的人没发现罢了。你们那边若有女性人员－－" "事实上，我们有－－" "是的，那些戴滑稽饰帽在公园里打扰人家的女警察！我是指女性主管。女人懂得刑案。"  巴特探长说："她们往往是成功的歹徒。头脑冷静。她们厚着脸皮蛮干的作风真惊人。" 夏塔纳先生轻笑几声。 他说："毒药是女人的武器。一定有很多女人偷偷下过毒－－始终没被人发现。" 奥利佛太太欣然说："当然有。"说着大嚼一客肝油雪泡冰淇淋。 夏塔纳先生又沉思道："医生也有机会。" 罗勃兹医生嚷道："我抗议。我们毒死病人，完全是意外。"他笑得好开心。 夏塔纳先生继续说："不过，我若要犯罪……"他停下来，这一停引起大家的注意。 所有的面孔转向他。 "我想我会把事情弄得很单纯。意外常发生嘛－－例如枪支走火－－或者家居型的意外。"  接着他耸耸肩，拿起酒杯。"其实我哪有资格发言－－在场的专家这么多。" 他喝一口酒。烛火将酒杯射出的红光映在他脸上，照见他上蜡的茈须、小小的皇帝须和古怪的眉毛。 现场一时沉默下来。 奥利佛太太说："差二十分还是过二十分？有天使经过。我两脚交叉－－来的一定是黑天使！"
CHAPTER 2 Dinner at Mr. Shaitana's
CHAPTER 2 Dinner at Mr. Shaitana's
The door of Mr. Shaitana's flat opened noiselessly. A grey-haired butler drew it back to let Poirot enter. He closed it equally noiselessly and deftly relieved the guest of his overcoat and hat. He murmured in a low expressionless voice: "What name shall I say?" "M. Hercule Poirot." There was a little hum of talk that eddied out into the hall as the butler opened a door and announced: "M. Hercule Poirot." Sherry-glass in hand, Shaitana came forward to meet him. He was, as usual, immaculately dressed. The Mephistophelian suggestion was heightened tonight, the eyebrows seemed accentuated in their mocking twist. "Let me introduce you--do you know Mrs. Oliver?" The showman in him enjoyed the little start of surprise that Poirot gave. Mrs. Ariadne Oliver was extremely well known as one of the foremost writers of detective and other sensational stories. She wrote chatty (if not particularly grammatical) articles on The Tendency of the Criminal; Famous Crimes Passion-nels; Murder for Love v. Murder for Gain. She was also a hot-headed feminist, and when any murder of importance was occupying space in the Press there was sure to be an interview with Mrs. Oliver, and it was mentioned that Mrs. Oliver had said, "Now ifa woman were the head of Scotland Yard!" She was an earnest believer in woman's intuition. For the rest she was an agreeable woman of middle age, handsome in a rather untidy fashion with fine eyes, substantial shoulders and a large quantity of rebellious grey hair with which she was continually experimenting. One day her appearance would be highly intellectual--a brow with the hair scraped back from it and coiled in a large bun in the neck--on another Mrs. Oliver would suddenly appear with Madonna loops, or large masses of slightly untidy curls. On this particular evening Mrs. Oliver was trying out a fringe. She greeted Poirot, whom she had met before at a literary dinner, in an agreeable bass voice.
"And Superintendent Battle you doubtless know," said Mr. Shaitana. A big square, wooden-faced man moved forward. Not only did an onlooker feel that Superintendent Battle was carved out of wood he also managed to convey the impression that the wood in question was the timber out of a battleship. Superintendent Battle was supposed to be Scotland Yard's best representative. He always looked stolid and rather stupid. "I know M. Poirot," said Superintendent Battle. And his wooden face creased into a smile and then returned to its former unexpressiveness. "Colonel Race," went on Mr. Shaitana. Poirot had not previously met Colonel Race, but he knew something about him. A dark, handsome, deeply bronzed man of fifty, he was usually to be found in some outpost of empire especially if there were trouble brewing. Secret Service is a melodramatic term, but it described pretty accurately to the lay mind the nature and scope of Colonel Race's activities. Poirot had by now taken in and appreciated te particular essence of his host's humorous intentions. "Our other guests are late," said Mr. Shaitana. 'ly fault, perhaps. I believe I told them 8:15." But at that moment the door opened and the butler announced: "Dr. Roberts." The man who came in did so with a kind of parody of a brisk bedside manner. He was a cheerful, highly-coloured individual of middle age. Small twinkling eyes, a touch of baldness, a tendency to embonpoint and a general air of well-scrubbed and disinfected medical practitio/er. His manner was cheerful and confident. You felt that his diagnosis would be correct and his treatments agreeable and practical "a little champagne in convalescence perhaps." A man of the world! "Not late, I hope?" said Dr. Roberts genially. He shook hands with his host and was introduced to the others. He seemed particularly gratified at meeting Battle. "Why, you're one of the big noises at Scotland Yard, aren't you? This is interesting! Too bad to make you talk shop but I warn you I shall have a try at it. Always been interested in crime. Bad thing for a doctor, perhaps. Mustn't say so to my nervous patients--ha ha!" Again the door opened. "Mrs. Lorrimer." Mrs. Lorrimer was a well-dressed woman of sixty. She had finely-cut features, beautifully arranged grey hair, and a clear, incisive voice. "I hope I'm not late," she said, advancing to her host. She turned from him to greet Dr. Roberts, with whom she was acquainted. The butler announced: "Major Despard." Major Despard was a tall, lean, handsome man, his face slightly marred by a scar on the temple. Introductions completed, he gravitated naturally to the side of Colonel Race--and the two men were soon talking sport and comparing their experiences on safari. For the last time the door opened and the butler announced: "Miss Meredith." A girl in the early twenties entered. She was of medium height and pretty. Brown curls clustered in her neck, her grey eyes were large and wide apart. Her face was powdered but not made-up. Her voice was slow and rather shy.
She said: "Oh dear, am I the last?" Mr. Shaitana descended on her with sherry and an ornate and complimentary reply. His introductions were formal and almost ceremonious. Miss Meredith was left sipping her sherry by Poirot's side. "Our friend is very punctilious," said Poirot with a smile. The girl agreed. "I know. People rather dispense with introductions nowadays. They just say 'I expect you know everybody' and leave it at that." "Whether you do or you don't?" "Whether you do or don't. Sometimes it makes it awkward but I think this is more awe-inspiring."
She hesitated and then said:
"Is that Mrs. Oliver, the novelist?" Mrs. Oliver's bass voice rose powerfully at that minute, speaking to Dr. Roberts. "You can't get away from a woman's 'instinct, doctor. Women know these things." Forgetting that she no longer had a brow she endeavoured to sweep her hair back from it but was foiled by the fringe. "That is Mrs. Oliver," said Poirot. "The one who wrote The Body in the Library?" "That identical one." Miss Meredith frowned a little. "And that wooden-looking man--a superintendent did Mr. Shaitana say?" "From Scotland Yard." "And you?" "And me?" "I know all about you, M. Poirot. It was you who really solved the A.B.C. Crimes." "Mademoiselle, you cover me with confusion." Miss Meredith drew her brows together. "Mr. Shaitana," she began and then stopped. "Mr. Shaitana-- Poirot said quietly: "One might say he was 'crime-minded.' It seems so. Doubtless he wishes to hear us dispute ourselves. He is already egging on Mrs. Oliver and Dr. Roberts. They are now discussing untraceable poisons." Miss Meredith gave a little gasp as she said:
"What a queer man he is!"
"Dr. Roberts?"
"No, Mr. Shaitana.' She shivered a little and said: "There's always something a little frightening about him, I think. You never know what would strike him as amusing. It might--it might be something cruel." "Such as fox-hunting, eh?" Miss Meredith threw him a reproachful glance. "I meant-oh! something Oriental!" "He has perhaps the tortuous mind," admitted Poirot. "Torturer's?" "No, no, tortuous, I said."
"I don't think I like him frightfully," confided Miss Meredith, her voice dropping. "You will like his dinner, though," Poirot assured her. "He has a marvellous cook." She looked at him doubtfully and then laughed. "Why," she exclaimed, "I believe you are quite human." "But certainly I am human!" "You see," said Miss Meredith, "all these celebrities are rather intimidating." "Mademoiselle, you should not be intimidated--you should be thrilled! You should have all ready your autograph book and your fountain-pen." "Well, you see, I'm not really terribly interested in crime. I don't think women are: it's always men who read detective stories." Hercule Poirot sighed affectedly. "Alasl" he murmured. "What would I not give at this minute to be even the most minor of film stars!" The butler threw the door open. "Dinner is served," he murmured. Poirot's prognostication was amply justified. The dinner was delicious and its serving perfection. Subdued light, polished wood, the blue gleam of Irish glass. In the dimness, at the head of the table, Mr. Shaitana looked more than ever diabolical. He apologised gracefully for the uneven number of the sexes. Mrs. Lorrimer was on his right hand, Mrs. Oliver on his left. Miss Meredith was between Superintendent Battle and Major Despard. Poirot was between Mrs. Lorrimer and Dr. Roberts. The latter murmured facetiously to him. "You're not going to be allowed to monopolise the only pretty girl all the evening. You French fellows, you don't waste your time, do you?" "I happen to be Belgian," murmured Poirot. "Same thing where the ladies are concerned, I expect, my boy," said the doctor cheerfully. Then, dropping the facetiousness, and adopting a professional tone, he began to talk to Colonel Race on his other side about the latest developments in the treatment of sleeping sickness. Mrs. Lorrimer turned to Poirot and began to talk of the latest plays. Her judgments were sound and her criticisms apt. They drifted on to books and then to world politics. He found her a well-informed and thoroughly intelligent woman. On the opposite side of the table Mrs. Oliver was asking Major Despard if he knew of any unheard-of out-of-the-way poisons. "Well, there's curare.' "My dear man, vieux jeu! That's been done hundreds of times. I mean something new!" Major Despard said dryly: "Primitive tribes are rather old-fashioned. They stick to the good old stuff their grandfathers and great-grandfathers used before them." "Very tiresome of them," said Mrs. Oliver. "I should have thought they were always experimenting with pounding up herbs and things. Such a chance for explorers, I always think. They could come home and kill off all their rich old uncles with some new drug that no one's ever heard of." "You should go to civilisation, not to the wilds for that," said Despard. "In the modern laboratory, for instance. Cultures of innocent-looking germs that will produce bona ride diseases." "That wouldn't do for mq public," said Mrs. Oliver. "Besides one is so apt to get the names wrong--staphylococcus and streptococcus and all those things---so difficult for my secretary and anyway rather dull, don't you think so? What do you think,  erintendent Battle?" "In real life people don't bother about being too subtle, Mrs. Oliver," said the superintendent. "They usually stick to arsenic because it's nice and handy to get hold of." "Nonsense," said Mrs. Oliver. "That's simply because there are lots of crimes you people at Scotland Yard never find out. Now if you hada woman there "As a matter of fact we have " "Yes, those dreadful policewomen in funny hats who bother people in parks. I mean a woman at the head of things. Women know about crime." "They're usually very successful criminals," said Superintendent Battle. "Keep their heads well. It's amazing how they'll brazen things out." Mr. Shaitana laughed gently. "Poison is a woman's weapon," he said. "There must be many secret women poisoners--never found out." "Of course there are," said Mrs. Oliver happily, helping herself lavishly to a mousse of foie gras. "A doctor, too, has opportunities," went on Mr. Shaitana thoughtfully. "I protest," cried Dr. Roberts. "When we poison our patients it's entirely by accident." He laughed heartily. "But if I were to commit a crime," went on Mr. Shaitana. He stopped; something in that pause compelled attention. All faces were turned to him. "I should make it very simple, I think. There's always accident--a shooting accident, for instance or the domestic kind of accident." Then he shrugged his shoulders and picked up his wineglass. "But who am I to pronounce--with so many experts present .... He drank. The candlelight threw a red shade from the wine on to his face with its waxed moustache, its little imperial, its fantastic eyebrows .... There was a momentary silence. Mrs. Oliver said: "Is it twenty-to or twenty-past? An angel passing My feet aren't crossed it must be a black angel!"
CHAPTER 3 A Game of Bridge
CHAPTER 3 A Game of Bridge

When the company returned to the drawing-room a bridge table had been set out. Coffee was handed round. "Who plays bridge?" asked Mr. Shaitana. "Mrs. Lorrimer, I know. And Dr. Roberts. Do you play, Miss Meredith?""Yes. I'm not frightfully good, though." "Excellent. And Major Despart? Good. Supposing you four play here." "Thank goodness there's to be bridge," said Mrs. Lorrimer in an aside to Poirot. "I'm one of the worst bridge fiends that ever lived. It's growing on me. I simply will not go out to dinner now if there's no bridge afterwards! I just fall asleep. I'm ashamed of myself, but there it is." They cut for partners. Mrs. Lorrimer was partnered with Anne Meredith against Major Despard and Dr. Roberts. "Women against men," said Mrs. Lorrimer as she took her seat and began shuffling the cards in an expert manner. "The blue cards, don't you think, partner? I'm a forcing two." "Mind you win," said Mrs. Oliver, her feminist feelings rising. "Show the men they can't have it all their own way." "They haven't got a hope, the poor dears," said Dr. Roberts cheerfully as he started shuffling the other pack. "Your teal, I think, Mrs. Lorrimer." Major Despard sat down rather slowly. He was looking at Anne Meredith as though he had just made the discovery that she was remarkably pretty. "Cut, please," said Mrs. Lorrimer impatiently. And with a start of apology he cut the pack she was presenting to him. Mrs. Lorrimer began to deal with a practised hand. "There is another bridge table in the other room," said Mr. Shaitana. He crossed to a second door and the other four followed him into a small comfortably furnished smoking-room where a second bridge table was set ready. "We must cut out," said Colonel Race. Mr. Shaitana shook his head. "I do not play," he said. "Bridge is not one of the games that amuse me." The others protested that they would much rather not play, but he overruled them firmly and in the end they sat down. Poirot and Mrs. Oliver against Battle and Race. Mr. Shaitana watched them for a little while, smiled in a Mephistophelian manner as he observed on what hand Mrs. Oliver declared Two No Trumps, and then went noiselessly through into the other room. There they were well down to it, their faces serious, the bids coming quickly. "One heart." "Pass." "Three clubs." "Three spades." "Four diamonds." "Double." "Four hearts." Mr. Shaitana stood watching a moment, smiling to himself. Then he crossed the room and sat down in a big chair by the fireplace. A tray of drinks had been brought in and placed on an adjacent table. The firelight gleamed on the crystal stoppers. Always an artist in lighting, Mr. Shaitana had simulated the appearance of a merely firelit room. A small shaded lamp at his elbow gave him light to read by if he so desired. Discreet floodlighting gave the room a subdued glow. A slightly stronger light shone over the bridge table, from whence the monotonous ejaculations continued. "One no trump" an aggressive note in the voiceDr. Roberts. "No bid" a quiet voice--Anne Meredith's. A slight pause always before Despard's voice came. Not so much a slow thinker as a man who liked to be sure before he spoke. "Four hearts." "Double." His face lit up by the flickering firelight, Mr. Shaitana smiled.
He smiled and he went on smiling. His eyelids flickered a little ....
His party was amusing him.
"Five diamonds. Game and rubber," said Colonel Race.
"Good for you, partner," he said to Poirot. "I didn't think you'd do it. Lucky they didn't lead a spade.""Wouldn't have made much difference, I expect," said Superintendent Battle, a man of gentle magnanimity.
He had called spades. His partner, Mrs. Oliver, had had a spade, but"something had told her" to lead a club--with disastrous results. Colonel Race looked at his watch. "Ten-past-twelve. Time for another?""You'll excuse me," said Superintendent Battle. "But I'm by way of being an 'early-to-bed' man.""I, too," said Hercule Poirot.
"We'd better add up," said Race.
The result of the evening's five rubbers was an overwhelming victory for the male sex. Mrs. Oliver had lost three pounds and seven shillings to the other three. The biggest winner was Colonel Race.
Mrs. Oliver, though a bad bridge player, was a sporting loser. She paid up cheerfully.
"Everything went wrong for me tonight," she said. "It is like that sometimes. I held the most beautiful cards ysterday. A hundred and fifty honours three times running."She rose and gathered up her embroidered evening bag, just refraining in time from stroking her hair off her brow.
"I suppose our host is next door," she said.
She went through the communicating door, the others behind her.
Mr. Shaitana was in his chair by the fire. The bridge players were absorbed in their game.
"Double five clubs," Mrs. Lorrimer was saying in her cool, incisive voice. "Five No Trumps."Mrs. Oliver came up to the bridge table. This was likely to be an exciting hand.
Superintendent Battle came with her.
Colonel Race went towards Mr. Shaitana, Poirot behind him.
"Got to be going, Shaitana," said Race.
Mr. Shaitana did not answer. His head had fallen forward, and he seemed to be asleep. Race gave a momentary whimsical glance at Poirot and went a little nearer. Suddenly he uttered a muffled ejaculation, bent forward. Poirot was beside him in a minute, he, too, looking where Colonel Race was pointing--something that might have been a particularly ornate shirt stud but it was not ....
Poirot bent, raised one of Mr. Shaitana's hands, then let it fall. He met Race'sinquiring glance and nodded. The latter raised his voice.
"Superintendent Battle, just a minute."
The superintendent came over to them. Mrs. Oliver continued to watch the play of Five No Trumps doubled.
Superintendent Battle, despite his appearance of stolidity, was a very quickman. His eyebrows went up and he said in a low voice as he joined them: "Something wrong?"With a nod Colonel Race indicated the silent figure in the chair.
As Battle bent over it, Poirot looked thoughtfully at what he could see of Mr.
Shaitana's face. Rather a silly face it looked now, the mouth drooping open--the devilish expression lacking ....
Hercule Poirot shook his head.
Superintendent Battle straightened himself. He had examined, without touching, the thing which looked like an extra stud in Mr. Shaitana's shirt--and it was not an extra stud. He had raised the limp hand and let it fall.
Now he stood up, unemotional, capable, soldierly--prepared to take charge efficiently of the situation.
"Just a minute, please," he said.
And the raised voice was his official voice, so different that all the heads at the bridge table turned to him, and Anne Meredith's hand remained poised over an ace of spades in dummy.
"I'm sorry to tell you all," he said, "that our host, Mr. Shaitana, is dead."Mrs. Lorrimer and Dr. Roberts rose to their feet. Despard stared andfrowned. Anne Meredith gave a little gasp.
"Are you sure, man?"
Dr. Roberts, his professional instincts aroused?.came briskly across the floor with a bounding medical "in-at-the-death" step.
Without seeming to, the bulk of Superintendent Battle impeded his progress.
"Just a minute, Dr. Roberts. Can you tell me first who's been in and out of this room this evening?"Roberts stared at him.
'"In and out? I don't understand you. Nobody has." The superintendent transferred his gaze. "Is that right, Mrs. Lorrimer?" "Quite right.""Not the butler nor any of the servants?"
"No. The butler brought in that tray as we sat down to bridge. He has not been in since."Superintendent Battle looked at Despard.
Despard nodded in agreement.
Anne said rather breathlessly, "Yes--yes, that's right.""What's all this, man," said Roberts impatiently. "Just let me examine him; may be just a fainting fit.""It isn't a fainting fit, and I'm sorry--but nobody's going to touch him until thedivisional surgeon comes. Mr. Shaitana's been murdered, ladies and gentlemen." "Murdered?" A horrified incredulous sigh from Anne. A stare---a very blank stare from Despard.
A sharp incisive "Murdered?" from Mrs. Lorrimer.
A "Good God!" from Dr. Roberts.
Superintendent Battle nodded his head slowly. He looked rather like aChinese porcelain mandarin. His expression was quite blank. "Stabbed," he said. "That's the way of it. Stabbed." Then he shot out a question:
"Any of you leave the bridge table during the evening?"He saw four expressions break up--waver. He saw fearomprehensionmindignation-dismay--horror; but he saw nothing definitely helpful.
"Well?"
There was a pause, and then-Major Despard said quietly (he had risen now and was standing like a soldier on parade, his narrow, intelligent face turned to Battle):
"i think every one of us, at one time or another, moved from the bridge table--either to get drinks or to put wood on the fire. I did both. When I went to the fire Shaitana was asleep in the chair.""Asleep?"
"I thought so--yes."
"He may have been," said Battle. "Or he may have been dead then. We'll go into that presently. I'll ask you now to go into the room next door." He turned to the quiet figure at his elbow: "Colonel Race, perhaps you'll go with them?" Race gave a quick nod of comprehension. "Right, superintendent."The four bridge players went slowly through the doorway.
Mrs. Oliver sat down in a chair at the far end of the room and began to sob quietly.
Battle took up the telephone receiver and spoke. Then he said:
"The local police will be round immediately. Orders from headquarters are that I'm to take on the case. Divisional surgeon will be here almost at once. How long should you say he's been dead, M. Poirot? I'd say well over an hour myself.""I agree. Alas, that one cannot be more exact--that one cannot say, 'This manhas been dead one hour, twenty-five minutes and forty seconds.'"Battle nodded absently.
"He was sitting right in front of the fire. That makes a slight difference. Over an hour--not more than two and a half: that's what our doctor will say, I'll be bound. And nobody heard anything and nobody saw anything. Amazing! What a desperate chance to take. He might have cried out.""But he did not. The murderer's luck held. As you say, mon ami, it was a very desperate business.""Any idea, M. Poirot, as to motive? Anything of that kind?"Poirot said slowly:
"Yes, I have something to say on that score. Tell me, M. Shaitana--he did notgive you any hint of what kind of a party you were coming to tonight?" Superintendent Battle looked at him curiously.
"No, M. Poirot. He didn't say anything at all. Why?"A bell whirred in the distance and a knocker was plied.
"That's our people," said Superintendent Battle. "I'll go and let 'em in. We'llhave your story presently. Must get on with the routine work." Poirot nodded. Battle left the room.
Mrs. Oliver continued to sob.
Poirot went over to the bridge table. Without touching anything, he examined the scores. He shook his head once or twice.
"The stupid little man! Oh, the stupid little man," murmured Hercule Poirot. "To dress up as the devil and try to frighten people. Quel enfantillage!"The door opened, The divisional surgeon came in, bag in hand. He was followed by the divisional inspector, talking to Battle. A camera man came next. There was a constable in the hall.
The routine of the detection of crime had begun.
第三章 桥牌
第三章 桥牌

宾主回到客厅，桥牌桌已经摆好了。大家传饮咖啡。 夏塔纳先生问道："谁爱打桥牌？洛瑞玛太太，我知道。还有罗勃兹医生。梅瑞迪斯小姐，你打不打？" "打，只是技术不太好。" "棒极了。德斯帕少校呢？好，你们四位在这边打吧。" 洛瑞玛太太侧向白罗说："幸亏有桥牌。我是有史以来最严重的桥牌迷。我爱上桥牌了。现在晚宴若没有牌局，我根本不去赴宴！我会睡着。真惭愧，可惜就是如此。" 她们切牌选同伴。洛瑞玛老太太跟安妮•梅瑞迪斯一组，对抗德斯帕少校和罗勃兹医生。  洛瑞玛太太坐下来，以专家的手法洗牌说："女性对抗男性。蓝牌，你看如何，伙伴？我是抬价的'2'。"（某一种桥牌叫牌制规定由"2"叫起。） 奥利佛太太的女权主义情操抬头了，她说："你们千万要赢喔。让男士们瞧瞧，他们不可能事事如愿。" 罗勃兹医生开始洗另一副牌，他兴高采烈说："可怜的宝贝，她们一点希望都没有。洛瑞玛太太，我看你来分牌吧。" 德斯帕少校慢慢坐下。他望着安妮•梅瑞迪斯，似乎刚刚才发现她美得出奇。 洛瑞玛太太不耐烦地说："请切牌吧。"他歉然切一切她递上来的纸牌。 洛瑞玛太太发牌十分熟练。 夏塔纳先生说："另外一个房间还有一张桥牌桌。" 他走想另一道门，另外四个人跟他踏进一个布置很舒服的小吸烟室，那边摆着另一张桥牌桌。 瑞斯上校说："我们得切牌分组。" 夏塔纳先生摇摇头。他说："我不打。桥牌不是我喜欢的游戏。" 客人都申辩说他们也不想打，但是他再三坚持，他们终于坐下了－－白罗和奥利佛太太对抗巴特和瑞斯。 夏塔纳先生旁观了一会，看到奥利佛太太以什么牌来叫"无王２"，不禁露出恶魔般的笑容，然后无声无息转往另一个房间。 那边的人打牌打得出神，表情严肃，叫牌的速度快极了。"红心１"。"放弃"。"梅花３"。"黑桃３"。"方块４"。"加倍"。"红心４"。 夏塔纳先生站着看了一会儿，自顾微笑。接着他横越房间，坐在壁炉边的一张大椅子上。侍者以托盘端来饮料，放在邻近的一张桌子上。火光照亮了水晶瓶塞。 夏塔纳先生一向是照明艺术家，他仿制出仅用火光照明的室内效果。他若想看书，肘边一盏加了灯罩的小灯可以给他光源。审慎的钒光灯使室内发出柔和的红光。另有一盏稍微强一点的电灯照在桥牌桌上，那儿继续传来叫牌声。 "无王１"－－清晰果断－－是洛瑞玛太太。 "红心３"－－语气很积极－－是罗勃兹医生。 "不叫"－－声音平平静静－－是安妮•梅瑞迪斯。 德斯帕说话之前总要踌躇片刻，与其说是思路缓慢，不如说他喜欢确定一下才开口。 "红心４"。 "加倍"。 摇曳的火光照亮了夏塔纳先生的面孔，他微微一笑。满面笑容，他始终满面笑容，眼皮颤动了一下。 这次宴会他觉得很好玩。 瑞斯上校说："方块５。赌输赢，三战两胜制。"又对白罗说："我想你办不到。幸亏他们没出黑桃。" 巴特探长气度恢宏，他说："我看没有多大的差别。" 他叫了黑桃。他的伙伴奥利佛太太有黑桃，可是她"凭某一种直觉"出了梅花－－结果惨兮兮。 瑞斯上校看看手表。 "十二点十分。有没有时间再打一盘？" 巴特探长说："请你原谅。我是'早睡型'的人。" "我也是，"赫邱里•白罗说。 "我们最好算算总分，"瑞斯说。 今晚的五盘男性大胜。奥利佛太太输掉三英镑七先令，由另外三家赢去。赢最多的是瑞斯上校。 奥利佛太太的牌技虽差，输起来却很干脆。她欣然付了钱。 她说："我今天晚上事事不顺利。有时候就是如此。昨天我的牌运棒极了。一连三次大牌一百五十分。"她起身收拾绣花的晚宴手提袋，正想拂去额上的发丝，又及时忍住了。 她说："我们的东道主大概在隔壁吧。" 她穿过相通的门，另外几个人跟在她后面。 夏塔纳先生坐在炉边的椅子上。桥牌桌的人专心打牌。 "梅花５加倍"，洛瑞玛太太正用冷静又尖锐的嗓门说。 "无王５"。 "无王５加倍"。 奥利佛太太走到牌桌边。这圈牌大概很精彩。 巴特探长跟她一起过来。 瑞斯上校走向夏塔纳先生，白罗跟在后面。瑞斯说："我得走了，夏塔纳。" 夏塔纳先生不答腔。他的脑袋向前垂，似乎睡着了。瑞斯以奇异的目光看了白罗一眼，走近几步。突然他闷叫一声，身子往前探。白罗霎时站在他旁边，也打量瑞斯上校所指的地方－－很象一种特别华丽的衬衫饰扣－－可惜却不是。 白罗弯腰拉起夏塔纳先生的一只手，然后放下。他接触瑞斯询问的眼光，点点头。瑞斯抬高嗓音。 "巴特探长，来一下。"探长走到他们身边。奥利佛太太继续看那场"无王５加倍"的牌。  巴特探长貌似迟钝，其实是一个非常敏捷的人。他跟他们站在一起，扬起眉毛低声说："有什么问题吗？" 瑞斯上校颔首指一指椅子上沉默的身躯。 巴特俯身观察，白罗若有所思看看夏塔纳先生的面孔。现在那张脸显得好蠢，嘴巴下垂张开－－恶魔般的神采不见了。 赫邱里•白罗摇摇头。 巴特探长直起身子。他检查过夏塔纳先生衬衫上那个很象饰扣的东西，但是没有用手去摸；那玩意儿不是特殊的饰扣。他曾拉起对方软绵绵的手，又放下了。 现在他站起来，冷静、能干，有军人作风－－打算切实掌握局面。 "耽误各位一分钟，拜托。"他说。 他抬高的嗓门有公事公办的意味，与先前不同，牌桌上的人都转头看他，安妮•梅瑞迪斯正要拿"梦家"的一张黑桃Ａ，手就此停在空中。 他说："我很遗憾，我们的东道主夏塔纳先生死了。" 洛瑞玛太太和罗勃兹医生站起来。德斯帕瞠目皱眉。安妮•梅瑞迪斯抽了一口气。 "你确定吗，老兄？" 此情此景勾起了罗勃兹医生的职业本能，他以医生"介入死亡事件"的轻快步伐走过去。  "等一等，罗勃兹医生。你能不能先告诉我今天晚上有谁进出这个房间？" 罗勃兹瞪着他。 "进出？我不懂你的意思。没有人进出啊。" 探长转移目光。 "他说得没错吧，洛瑞玛太太？" "没有错。" "管事或其它佣人都没有进来过？" "没有。我们坐上牌桌的时候，管事端那个托盘进屋。此后就没有进来过。" 巴特探长看看德斯帕。 德斯帕点头同意。 安妮屏息说："是的－－是的，没有错。" 罗勃兹不耐烦地说："老兄，到底怎么回事嘛。让我为他检查检查－－也许只是晕倒罢了。"  "不是晕倒，很抱歉－－分局法医没来之前，谁都不能碰他。各位先生女士，夏塔纳先生是被人谋杀的。" "谋杀？……"安妮发出惊恐和不相信的叹息。 德斯帕瞪着眼睛，眼神茫茫然。 洛瑞玛太太尖声说："谋杀的？" 罗勃兹医生说了一句："老天爷！" 巴特探长慢慢点点头。他看来活象一个中国制的瓷土官吏像，表情迷茫。 他说："被人捅了一刀。就是这样。捅了一到。" 接着他问道："晚上你们有谁离开过牌桌？" 他眼见四个人的表情软化－－动摇。他看出畏惧－－担忧－－愤慨－－沮丧－－恐怖等情绪，却没有发现有用的线索。 "怎么？" 现场沉默片刻，德斯帕少校此刻已站起身，立姿活象行列中的军人，精明的窄脸转向巴特，平平静静说："我想每个人都曾先后离开牌桌一会儿－－去拿饮料或在壁炉中添些薪柴。我两件事的做过。我走到火旁的时候，夏塔纳先生坐在椅子上睡着了。" "睡着了？" "我认为如此－－是的。" 巴特说："他也许是睡着，也许那时候已经死了。我们立刻调查。现在我要请你们到隔壁房间。"他转向一旁不开腔的汉子。"瑞斯上校，你大概肯陪他们去吧？" 瑞斯明白了，迅速颔首。 "对，探长。" 四位打牌的客人慢慢穿过门口。 奥利佛太太坐在房间那一头的椅子上，开始幽幽哭泣。 巴特拿起电话听筒来说话。 接着他说："本地警察马上来。总部发下命令，要我办这个案子。分局法医会尽速赶来。白罗先生，你看他死去多久了？我想大概超过一个钟头。" "我也这么想。可惜不能更精确一些－－不能断言'此人已死去一小时二十分四十秒'。"  巴特心不在焉点点头。 "他坐在炉火前面，这一来稍有差别。我保证医生会说过一个钟头，不到两个半钟头。谁都没听见什么，看见什么。真惊人！冒的险很大。他可能会叫嚷呀。" "可是他没有叫。凶手运气好。朋友，你说得不错，真是不顾死活的举动。" "白罗先生，想到没有？关于动机之类的？" 白罗慢慢地说："是的，这方面我有点话要报告。请问－－夏塔纳先生没暗示他今天请你们来赴哪一种宴会吗？" 巴特探长好奇地望着他。 "没有，白罗先生，他什么都没说。怎么？" 远处铃声呲呲响，有人扣门环。 巴特探长说："是我们的人。我去请他们进来。待会儿我们再听你叙述。得先完成例行手续。" 白罗点点头。巴特踏出房间。 奥利佛太太哭个不停。 白罗走到牌桌边。他没摸任何东西，只用眼睛检查计分纸，摇了一两次头。 "愚蠢的小男人！噢，愚蠢的小男人。打扮成魔鬼。想要吓人。真幼稚！"赫邱里•白罗低声说。 门开了。分局法医手提袋子走进来；分局主管跟在后面，正与巴特交谈。接着来了一位照相师。大厅有一位警察站岗。 侦察刑案的例行手续开始了。
CHAPTER 4 First Murderer?
CHAPTER 4 First Murderer?

Hercule Poirot, Mrs. Oliver, Colonel Race and Superintendent Battle sat round the dining-room table.
It was an hour later. The body had been examined, photographed andremoved. A fingerprint expert had been and gone.
Superintendent Battle looked at Poirot.
"Before I have those four in, I want to hear what you've got to tell me. According to you there was something behind this party tonight?"Very deliberately and carefully Poirot retold the conversation he had held with Shaitana at Wessex House.
Superintendent Battle pursed his lips. He verynead'y whistled.
"Exhibitsh? Murderers all alive oh! And yiu think he meant it? You don'tthink he was pulling your leg?"
Poirot shook his head.
"Oh, no, he meant it. Sbaitana was a man who prided himself on his Mephistophelian attitude to life. He was a man of great vanity. He was also a stupid man--that is why he is dead.""I get you," said Superintendent Battle, following things out in his mind. "A party of eight and himself. Four 'sleuths,' so to speak--and four murderers!""It's impossible!" cried Mrs. Oliver. "Absolutely impossible. None of those people can be criminals."Superintendent Battle shook his head thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Mrs. Oliver. Murderers look and behave very much like everybody else. Nice, quiet, well-behaved, reasonable folk very often.""In that case, it's Dr. Roberts," said Mrs. Oliver firmly. "I felt instinctively that there was something wrong with that man as soon as I saw him. My instincts never lie."Battle turned to Colonel Race.
"What do you think, sir?"
Race shrugged his shoulders. He took the question as referring to Poirot's statement and not to Mrs. Oliver's suspicions.
"It could be," he said. "It could be. It shows that Shaitana was right in one case at least! After all, he can only have suspected that these people were murderers--he can't have been sure. He may have been right in all four cases, he may have been right in only one case but he was right in one case; his death proved that.""One of them got the wind up. Think that's it, M. Poirot?"Poirot nodded.
"The late Mr. Shaitana had a reputation," he said. "He had a dangerous sense of humour, and was reputed to be merciless. The victim thought that Shaitana was giving himself an evening's amusement, leading up to a moment when he'd hand the victim over to the policeyou.t He (or she) must have thought that Shaitana had definite evidence.""Had he?" Poirot shrugged his shoulders. "That we shall never know." "Dr. Roberts!" repeated Mrs. Oliver firmly. "Such a hearty man. Murderers are often hearty--as a disguise! If I were you, Superintendent Battle, I should arrest him at once." "I dare say we would if there was a Woman at the Head of Scotland Yard," said Superintendent Battle, a momentary twinkle showing in his unemotional eye. "But, you see, mere men being in charge, we've got to be careful. We've got to get there slowly." "Oh, men--men," sighed Mrs. Oliver, and began to compose newspaper articles in her head. "Better have them in now," said Superintendent Battle. "It won't do to keep them hanging about too long." Colonel Race half rose. "If you'd like us to go " Superintendent Battle hesitated a minute as he caught Mrs. Oliver's eloquent eye. He was well aware of Colonel Race's official position, and Poirot had worked with the police on many occasions. For Mrs. Oliver to remain was decidedly stretching a point. But Battle was a kindly man. He remembered that Mrs. Oliver had lost three pounds and seven shillings at bridge, and that she had been a cheerful loser. "You can all stay," he said, "as far as I'm concerned. But no interruptions, please (he looked at Mrs. Oliver), and there mustn't be a hint of what M. Poirot has just told us. That was Shaitana's little secret, and to all intents and purposes it died with him. Understand?" "Perfectly," said Mrs. Oliver. Battle strode to the door and called the constable who was in duty in the hall. "Go to the little smoking-room. You'll find Anderson there with the four guests. Ask Dr. Roberts if he'll be so good as to step this way." "I should have kept him to the end," said Mrs. Oliver. "In a book, I mean," she added apologetically. "Real life's a bit different," said Battle. "I know," said Mrs. Oliver. "Badly constructed." Dr. Roberts entered with the springiness of his step slightly subdued. "I say, Battle," he said. "This is the devil of a business! Excuse me, Mrs. Oliver, but it is. Professionally speaking, I could hardly have believed it! To stab a man with three other people a few yards away." He shook his head. "Whew! I wouldn't like to have done it!" A slight smile twitched up the corners of his mouth. "What can I say or do to convince you that I didn't do it?" "Well, there's motive, Dr. Roberts." The doctor nodded his head emphatically. "That's all clear. I hadn't the shadow of a motive for doing away with poor Shaitana. I didn't even know him very well. He amused me--he was such a fantastic fellow. Touch of the Oriental about him. Naturally, you'll investigate my relations with him closely--I expect that. I'm not a fool. But you won't find anything. I'd no reason for killing Shaitana, and I didn't kill him." Superintendent Battle nodded woodenly. "That's all right, Dr. Roberts. I've got to investigate, as you know. You're a sensible man. Now, can you tell me anything about the other three people?" "I'm afraid I don't know very much. Despard and Miss Meredith I met for thefirst time tonight. I knew of Despard beforeread his travel book, and a jolly good yarn it is." "Did you know that he and Mr. Shaitana were acquainted?" "No. Shaitana never mentioned him to me. As I say, I'd heard of him, but never met him. Miss Meredith I've never seen before. Mrs. Lorrimer I know slightly." "What do you know about her?" Roberts shrugged his shoulders. "She's a widow. Moderately well off. Intelligent, well-bred woman first-class bridge player. That's where I've met her, as a matter of fact--playing bridge." "And Mr. Shaitana never mentioned her, either?" "No." "H'm--that doesn't help us much. Now, Dr. Roberts, perhaps you'll be so kind as to tax your memory carefully and tell me how often you yourself left your seat at the bridge table, and all you can remember about the movements of the others." Dr. Roberts took a few minutes to think. "It's difficult," he said frankly. "I can remeb, ermy own movements, more or less. I got up three times--that is, on three occasions when I was dummy I left my seat and made myself useful. Once I went over and put wood on the fire. Once I brought drinks to the two ladies. Once I poured out a whisky and soda for myself." "Can you remember the times?" "I could only say very roughly. We began to play about nine-thirty, I imagine. I should say it was about an hour later that I stoked the fire, quite a short time after that I fetched the drinks (next hand but one, I think), and perhaps half-past eleven when I got myself a whisky and soda--but those times are quite approximate. I couldn't answer for their being correct." "The table with the drinks was beyond Mr. Shaitana's chair?" "Yes. That's to say, I passed quite near him three times." "And each time, to the best of your belief, he was asleep?" "That's what I thought the first time. The second time I didn't even look at him. Third time I rather fancy the thought just passed through my mind: 'How the beggar does sleep.' But I didn't really look closely at him." "Very good. Now, when did your fellow-players leave their seats?" Dr. Roberts frowned. "Difficult--very difficult. Despard went and fetched an extra ash-tray, I think. And he went for a drink. That was before me, for I remember he asked me if I'd have one, and I said I wasn't quite ready." "And the ladies?" "Mrs. Lorrimer went over to the fire once. Poked it, I think. I rather fancy she spoke to Shaitana, but I don't know. I was playing a rather tricky no trump at the time." "And Miss Meredith?" "She certainly left the table once. Came round and looked at my hand--I was her partner at the time. Then she looked at the other people's hands, and then she wandered round the room. I don't know what she was doing exactly. I wasn't paying attention." Superintendent Battle said thoughtfully: "As you were sitting at the bridge-table, no one's chair was directly facing the fireplace?""No, sort of sideways on, and there was a big cabinet betweenhinese piece, very handsome. I can see, of course, that it would be perfectly possible to stab the old boy. After all, when you're playing bridge, you're playing bridge. You're not looking round you and noticing what is going on. The only person who's likely to be doing that is dummy. And in this case--" "In this case, undoubtedly, dummy was the murderer,'said Superintendent Battle. "All the same," said Dr. Roberts, "it wanted nerve, you know. After all, who is to say that somebody won't look up just at the critical moment?" "Yes," said Battle. "It was a big risk. The motive must have been a strong one. I wish we knew what it was," he added with unblushing mendacity. "You'll find out, I expect," said Roberts. "You'll go through his papers, and all that sort of thing. There will probably be a clue." "We'll hope so," said Superintendent Battle gloomily. He shot a keen glance at the other. "I wonder if you'd oblige me, Dr. Roberts, by giving me a personal opinion--as man to man." "Certainly." "Which do you fancy yourself of the three?" Dr. Roberts shrugged his shoulders. "That's easy. Off-hand, I'd say Despard. The man's got plenty of nerve; he's used to a dangerous life where you've got to act quickly. He wouldn't mind taking a risk. It doesn't seem to me likely the women are in on this. Take a bit of strength, I should imagine." "Not so much as you might think. Take a look at this." Rather like a conjurer, Battle suddenly produced a long thin instrument of gleaming metal with a small round jewelled head. Dr. Roberts leaned forward, took it, and examined it with rich professional appreciation. He tried the point and whistled. "What a tool! What a tool! Absolutely made for murder, this little toy. Go in like butter absolutely like butter. Brought it with him, I suppose." Battle shook his head. "No. It was Mr. Shaitana's. It lay on the table near the door with a good many other knickknacks." "So the murderer helped himself. A bit of luck finding a tool like that.""Well, that's one way of looking at it," said Battle slowly.
"Well, of course, it wasn't luck for Shaitana, poor fellow." "I didn't mean that, Dr. Roberts. I meant that there was another angle of looking at the business. It occurs to me that it was noticing this weapon that put the idea of murder into our criminal's mind." "You mean it was a sudden inspiration--that the murder wasn't premeditated? He conceived the idea after he got here? Er--anything to suggest that idea to you?" He glanced at him searchingly. "It's just an idea," said Superintendent Battle stolidly.
"Well, it might be so, of course," said Dr. Roberts slowlySuperintendent Battle cleared his throat. "Well, I won't keep you any longer, doctor. Thank you for your help. Perhaps you'll leave your address." "Certainly. 200 Gloucester Terrace, W.2. Telephone No. Bayswater 23896.""Thank you. I may have to call upon you shortly.""Delighted to see you any time. Hope there won't be too much in the papers.
I don't want my nervous patients upset."
Superintendent Battle looked round at Poirot.
"Excuse me, M. Poirot. If you'd like to ask any questions, I'm sure the doctorwouldn't mind."
"Of course not. Of course not. Great admirer of yours, M. Poirot. Little greycells---order and method. I know all about it. I feel sure you'll think Of somethingmost intriguing to ask me."
Hercule Poirot spread out his hands in his most foreign manner.
"No, no. I just like to get all the details clear in my mind. For instance, howmany rubbers did you play?"
"Three," said Roberts promptly. "We'd got to one game all, in the fourthrubber, when you came in."
"And who played with who?"
"First rubber, Despard and I against the ladies. They beat us, God bless 'em.
Walk over; we never held a card.
"Second rubber, Miss Meredith and I against Despard and Mrs. Lorrimer.
Third rubber, Mrs. Lorrimer and I against Miss Meredith and Despard. We cuteach time, but it worked out like a pivot. Fourth ruboer, Miss Meredith and Iagain." 
"Who won and who lost?"
"Mrs. Lorrimer won every rubber. Miss Meredith won the first and lost the next two. I was a bit up and Miss Meredith and Despard must have been down."Poirot said, smiling, "The good superintendent has asked you your opinion of your companions as candidates for murder. I now ask you for your opinion of them as bridge players.""Mrs. Lorrimer's first class," Dr. Roberts replied promptly. "I'll bet she makes a good income a year out of bridge. Despard's a good player, toowhat I call a sound player--long-headed chap. Miss Meredith you might describe as quitea safe player. She doesn't make mistakes, but she isn't brilliant." "And you yourself, doctor?" Roberts' eyes twinkled.
"I overcall my hand a bit, or so they say. But I've always found it pays."Poirot smiled.
Dr. Roberts rose.
"Anything more?"
Poirot shook his head.
"Well, good-night, then. Good-night, Mrs. Oliver. You ought to get some copy out of this. Better than your untraceable poisons, eh?"Dr. Roberts left the room, his bearing springy once more. Mrs. Oliver said bitterly as the door closed behind him"Copy! Copy, indeed! People are so unintelligent. I could invent a better murder any day than anything real. I'm never at a loss for a plot. And the people who read my books like untraceable poisons!"
第四章 第一位凶手？
第四章 第一位凶手？

赫邱里•白罗、奥利佛太太，瑞斯上校和巴特探长围坐在餐厅的桌子四周。 时间已过了一个钟头；尸体检验过，照了相，然后搬走；还有一位指纹专家来过又走了。  巴特探长看看白罗。 "我要先听听你准备告诉我的资料，才叫那四个人进来。依你看，今天晚上的宴会暗藏玄机？" 白罗仔仔细细、从从容容把上回跟夏塔纳在威瑟宫的对话说给大家听。 "展览－－呃？活生生的杀人犯！噢，你认为他说的是真的？你不觉得他是愚弄你？" 白罗摇摇头。"噢，不，他是说真的。夏塔纳对人生抱着恶意嘲讽的态度，而且为此洋洋自得。他是极端自负的人，也是笨瓜－－所以才会送命。" 巴特探长思忖道："我懂你的意思。宴会有八位客人，加上他自己。可以说是四名侦探－－加四名凶手！" 奥利佛太太嚷道："不可能。绝对不可能。这些人都不可能是歹徒。" 巴特探长沉思般摇摇头。 "奥利佛太太，我可不敢这么肯定。凶手的外貌和举止跟别人差不多。往往是温和、安静、举止斯文又讲理的人。" 奥利佛太太一口咬定说："如果这样，一定是罗勃兹医生。我一看到那个人，就直觉他有点不对劲。我的直觉从来没有出过错。" 巴特转向瑞斯上校。 "先生，你以为如何？" 瑞斯耸耸肩。他认定对方指的是白罗刚才的陈述，不是奥利佛太太的猜测语。他说："有可能，有可能。这表示夏塔纳至少料中了一个案子！但他只能怀疑这些人是凶手，不可能确定。也许他四个案子都料中了，也许只料中了一个－－但是有一个案子他猜得没错；他死亡证明了这一点。" "其中一个吓到了－－白罗先生，你认为如此？" 白罗点点头。他说，："已故的夏塔纳先生颇有名气。他有一种阴险的幽默感，人人都知道他狠心。对方认为夏塔纳要好好消遣一个晚上，最后再把对方交给警察－－就是你！他或她一定以为夏塔纳握有明确的证据。" "他有没有呢？" 白罗耸耸肩。 "这一点我们永远不可能知道。" 奥利佛太太又一口咬定说："罗勃兹医生！他开心得要命。凶手往往很开心－－做为矫饰！巴特探长。我如果是你，一定马上逮捕他。" 巴特探长说："如果由女人来当苏格兰场的主管，我敢说我们会这么做。"他那冷静的双眼眨了一两下。"不过你明白，负责的只是男人罢了，所以我要当心。我们得慢慢来。" "噢，男人－－男人，"奥利佛太太叹口气，开始构思报上的文章。 巴特探长说："现在最好叫他们进来。不能让他们逗留太久。" 瑞斯上校半站起身。"你若要我们走－－" 巴特探长瞥见奥利佛太太那富于表情的眼睛，迟疑了片刻。他深知瑞斯上校担任公职；白罗也曾和警方合作许多回。让奥利佛太太留下来则是破例。不过巴特为人体贴；他想起奥利佛太太打桥牌输了三磅七先令，输得真爽快。 他说："我让你们留下来。不过拜托别打岔（他看看奥利佛太太），千万不能提白罗先生刚才跟我们说的线索。那是夏塔纳先生的小秘密，无论由哪一点看来都已跟着他死灭了。明白吗？" "完全明白，"奥利佛太太说。 巴特大步走向门口，呼叫在门厅执勤的警察。 "到小吸烟室去。你会发现安德森陪四位客人待在那边。请问罗勃兹医生能不能过来一下。" 奥利佛太太说："换了我，我会把他留到最后。"接着道歉说，"我是指小说里。" "现实的人生有点不一样，"巴特说。 奥利佛太太说："我知道。结构不良。" 罗勃兹医生走进来，轻快的步伐略微收敛了一点。 他说："我说巴特，真倒楣！对不起，奥利佛太太，事实如此。说一句专业的行话，我几乎不敢相信！出手捅人一刀，而另外三个人就在几码外。"他摇摇头。"哇！我可不希望这么做。"他的嘴角抿成微笑状。"我要怎么说或怎么做才能叫你们相信不是我干的？" "咦，有动机问题呀，罗勃兹医生。" 医师用力点点头。 "一切都清清楚楚。我没有理由要干掉可怜的夏塔纳。我甚至跟他不熟。我觉得他很有意思－－他真是古怪的家伙，有几分东方风味。你们自然会调查我跟他的关系；我料到了。我不是傻瓜。不过你们查不出什么的。我没有理由杀害夏塔纳，而我也没有杀他。" 巴特探长木然点点头。 "没关系，罗勃兹医生。你知道，我非调查不可。你是讲理的人。现在你能不能说说另外三个人的有关资料？" "我知道的恐怕差别太多。德斯帕和梅瑞迪斯小姐我是今晚才第一次见到。以前我知道德斯帕这个人－－读过他的游记，内容有趣，挺不错的。" "你知不知道他和夏塔纳现实相识？" "不，夏塔纳从来没跟我提起他。我说过，我听过他的名字，却未曾谋面。梅瑞迪斯小姐我从来没见过。洛瑞玛太太我稍微认识。" "你对她有多少认识？" 罗勃兹耸耸肩。 "她是寡妇，尚称富有。人聪明，教养甚佳－－桥牌技术属于第一流。事实上我就是在桥牌桌上认识她的。" "夏塔纳先生也没提过她？" "没有。" "哼－－对我们没有多打帮助。喏，罗勃兹医生，你肯不肯帮个忙，仔细回忆一下，说说你离开牌桌的次数，以及记忆中别人活动的情形。" 罗勃兹医生想了几分钟。 他坦白说："很难。我自己的活动稍微记得。我站起来三次－－也就是我三次当'梦家'的时候，我离开座位活动活动。有一次我走过去添柴火。有一回我端饮料给两位女士。有一次我自己倒了一杯威士忌苏打。" "你记不记得时间？" "我只能约略提一提。我想牌局九点三十分左右开始。大约一个钟头后，我去添柴火；再过一会儿去拿饮料，中间大概只隔一圈牌；我自己倒威士忌苏打的时候大约十一点半－－不过这些时间都是约略计算的。我不敢保证一定正确。" "放饮料的茶几在夏塔纳先生座椅的另一侧？" "是的。也就是说，我经过他身边三次。" "每一次都相信他睡着了？" "第一次我是这么想。第二次我根本没看他。第三次脑子里掠过念头'这乞丐真能睡'，但是我没有真正望着他。" "很好。同桌的牌友什么时候离开座位？" 罗勃兹医生皱皱眉。 "难－－很难。德斯帕好象多去拿一个烟灰碟。他还去取饮料－－比我先去，我记得他问我要不要喝，我说还不打算要。" "女士们呢？" "洛瑞玛太太走到炉边一次。我想是拨火吧。我仿佛觉得她跟夏塔纳说话，但是我不敢确定。当时我正宗打一场相当难缠的'无王'牌。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐呢？" "她确实离开过牌桌一次，绕过来看我的牌－－当时我跟她同伙。后来她看看别人的牌，又在室内逛来逛去。我不太知道她干什么。我没有注意。" 巴特探长若有所思说："你们坐上牌桌，没有人的椅子正对着壁炉吗？" "不，斜对着，中间隔一个大饰橱－－中国货，很漂亮。当然啦，我看得出来，刺杀老家伙是绝对'可行'的。他打牌的时候只管打牌，不会东张西望，注意四周的情形。唯一有机会出手的就是'梦家'。这一回－－" 巴特探长说："这一回凶手必定是'梦家'。" 罗勃兹医生说："不过仍需要勇气，你知道！谁敢说紧要关头会不会有人抬头望？" 巴特说："是的，得冒大险。动机一定很强烈。"他面不改色撒谎说："但愿我们知道是什么动机。" 罗勃兹说："我想你会查出来的。你不妨检视他的文件和所有这一类的东西，也许能找到线索。" 巴特探长愁容满面说："我们希望如此。" 他以敏锐的眼神看看对方。 "罗勃兹医生，不知道你能不能帮个忙，提供一点个人的意见－－以男人对男人的立场来提供。" "当然可以。" "你认为三个人之中哪一位是凶手？" 罗勃兹医生耸耸肩。 "简单嘛。我猜是德斯帕。此人胆子大，过惯了飞快行事的危险生活。他不怕冒险。我觉得女人不大可能做这件事。大概需要力气。" "所需的力气不如你想象中来得大。看看这个。" 巴特象魔术家，突然抽出一件细长、闪亮、小圆头镶了宝石的金属凶具。 罗勃兹医生探身向前，接过来，以专业的目光细细打量。他试试尖端，吹了声口哨。"好一个利器！好一个利器！完全是为杀人而打造的，这把小东西。象切奶油般刺进去－－完全象切奶油。我猜是凶手带来的。" 巴特摇摇头。 "不，是夏塔纳先生的。跟其它的许多小玩意儿一起放在门口附近的茶几上。" "于是凶手就借用了。借到这样的工具，真幸运。" "噢，这是某一面的看法，"巴特缓缓说。 "咦，对夏塔纳先生来说当然不算幸运，可怜的家伙。" "我不是这个意思，罗勃兹医生。我是说这件事还可以由另一个角度来观察。我忽然想到我们的凶手是发现这件武器才起意杀人的。" "你是说突来的灵感？不是预谋杀人？他到这儿之后才起意？呃－－你凭什么这么想？"他以搜寻的目光看看巴特。 巴特探长木然说："这只是我的想法。" 罗勃兹医生慢慢说："噢，当然有可能。" 巴特探长清一清喉咙。 "噢，医生，我不再耽搁你的时间了。多谢你帮忙。麻烦你留个地址好吧。" "没问题。西二区葛罗瑟斯特高台二零零号。电话是湾水局二三八九六号。" "谢谢你。不久我可能会登门拜访。" "随时欢迎。但愿报刊上别登太多。我不希望紧张的病人心情受影响。" 巴特探长回头看白罗。 "白罗先生，对不起。你若想问话，我相信医生不会介意。" "当然不介意，当然不介意。白罗先生，我一向佩服你。小小的灰白色脑细胞－－讲究秩序和方法。我全都知道。我相信你会想些最迷人的问题来问我。" 白罗摊开双手，动作有一股异国风味。 "不，不。我只想在脑中弄清细节。例如你们打了几盘牌？" 罗勃兹医生说："三盘。打到第四盘，你们就进来了。" "谁跟谁同组？" "第一盘德斯帕和我对抗太太小姐们。她们赢了，上帝保佑她们。赢的很轻松，因为我们根本无牌可打。 "第二盘梅瑞迪斯小姐和我对抗德斯帕和洛瑞玛太太。第三盘洛瑞玛太太和我对抗梅瑞迪斯小姐和德斯帕。我们每次都切牌，但是过程象扇轴般进展得很顺利。第四盘梅瑞迪斯小姐又和我同组。" "谁赢谁输？" "洛瑞玛太太每盘都赢。梅瑞迪斯小姐第一盘赢，后两盘输。我赚了点，梅瑞迪斯和德斯帕一点亏了。" 白罗笑眯眯说："探长问你牌友们杀人的可能。我现在问问你对他们牌技有什么看法。" 罗勃兹医生立刻答道："洛瑞玛太太是一流的好手。我打赌她每年靠桥牌赚进不少钱。德斯帕的技术也不错－－是我所谓的'稳当'牌友－－脑筋不错；梅瑞迪斯小姐可以说是安全的牌友，不犯错，却不机灵。" "你自己呢，医生？" 罗勃兹的眼睛眨了几下："我叫牌叫得太高，他们都这么说。不过我往往发现划得来。" 白罗笑一笑。 罗勃兹医生站起身。"还有没有什么事？" 白罗摇摇头。 "好，晚安。奥利佛太太，晚安。你该弄一份抄本去。比你笔下无法追察的毒药更有趣吧？"  罗勃兹医生踏出房门，举止又轻快如昔了。房门关上后，奥利佛太太怨道："抄本！还抄本哩！人类正不聪明。我随时能捏造出一椿比真案子更精彩的命案。我从来不会想不出情节。而且我的读者喜欢无法追察的毒药。"
CHAPTER 5 Second Murderer?
CHAPTER 5 Second Murderer?

Mrs. Lorrimer came into the dining-room like a gentlewoman. She looked a little pale, but composed. "I'm sorry to have to bother you," Superintendent Battle began. "You must do your duty, of course," said Mrs. Lorrimer quietly. "It is, I agree, an unpleasant position in which to be placed, but there is no good shirking it. I quite realise that one of the four people in that room must be guilty. Naturally, I can't expect you to take my word that I am not the person." She accepted the chair that Colonel Race offered her and sat down opposite the superintendent. Her intelligent grey eyes met his. She waited attentively. "You knew Mr. Shaitana well?" began the superintendent. "Not very well. I have known him over a period of some years, but never intimately." "Where did you meet him?" "At a hotel in Egypt--the Winter Palace at Luxor, I think." "What did you think of him?" Mrs. Lorrimer shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I thought him--I may as well say so--rather a charlatan." "You had---excuse me for asking--no motive for wishing him out of the way?" Mrs. Lorrimer looked slightly amused. "Really, Superintendent Battle, do you think I should admit it if I had?" "You might," said Battle. "A really intelligent person might know that a thing was bound to come out." Mrs. Lorrimer inclined her head thoughtfully. "There is that, of course. No, Superintendent Battle, I had no motive for wishing Mr. Shaitana out of the way. It is really a matter of indifference to me whether he is alive or dead. I thought him a poseur, and rather theatrical, and sometimes he irritated me. That is--or rather was--my attitude towards him." "That is that, then. Now, Mrs. Lorrimer, can you tell me anything about your three companions?" "I'm afraid not. Major Despard and Miss Meredith I met for the first time tonight. Both of them seem charming people. Dr. Roberts I know slightly. He's a very popular doctor, I believe." "He is not your own doctor?" "Oh, no." "Now, Mrs. Lorrimer, can you tell me how often you got up from your seat tonight, and will you also describe the movements of the other three?" Mrs. Lorrimer did not take any time to think. "I thought you would probably ask me thatl I have been trying to think it out. I got up once myself when I was dummy. I went over to the fire. Mr. Shaitana was alive then. I mentioned to him how nice it was to see a wood fire." "And he answered?" "That he hated radiators." "Did any one overhear your conversation?""I don't think so. I lowered my voice, not to interrupt the players." She added dryly: "In fact you have only my word for it that Mr. Shaitana was alive and spoke to me."Superintendent Battle made no protest. He went on with his quiet methodical questioning.
"What time was that?"
"I should think we had been playing a little over an hour.""What about the others?"
"Dr. Roberts got me a drink. He also got himself one--that was later. MajorDespard also Went to get a drink at about 11:15, I should say.""Only once?"
"No---twice, I think. The men moved about a fair amount but I didn't notice what they did. Miss Meredith left her seat once only, I think. She went round to look at her partner's hand.""But she remained near the bridge-table?"
"I couldn't say at all. She may have move! away."Battle nodded.
"It's all very vague," he grumbled.
"I am sorry."
Once again Battle did his conjuring trick and produced the long delicate stiletto.
"Will you look at this, Mrs. Lorrimer?" Mrs. Lorrimer took it without emotion. "Have you ever seen that before?" "Never.""Yet it was lying on a table in the drawing-room.""I didn't notice it."
"You realise, perhaps, Mrs. Lorrimer, that with a weapon like that a woman could do the trick just as easily as a man.""I suppose she could," said Mrs. Lorrimer quietly.
She leaned forward and handed the dainty little thing back to him.
"But all the same," said Superintendent Battle, "the woman would have to be pretty desperate. It was a long chance to take."He waited a minute, but Mrs. Lorrimer did not speak.
"Do you know anything of the relations between the other three and Mr. Shaitana?"She shook her head.
"Nothing at all."
"Would you care to give me an opinion as to which of them you consider the most likely person?"Mrs. Lorrimer drew herself up stiffly.
"I should not care to do anything of the kind. I consider that a most improper question."The superintendent looked like an abashed little boy who had been reprimanded by his grandmother.
"Address, please," he mumbled, drawing his notebook towards him. "111 Cheyne Lane, Chelsea." "Telephone number?" "Chelsea 45632." Mrs. Lorrimer rose.
"Anything you want to ask, M. Poirot?" said Battle hurriedly.
Mrs. Lorrimer paused, her head slightly inclined. "Would it be a proper question, Madame, to ask you your opinion of your companions, not as potential murderers but as bridge players?" Mrs. Lorrimer answered coldly: "I have no objection to answering that--if it bears upon the matter at issue in any way--though I fail to see how it can." "I will be the judge of that. Your answer, if you please, Madame." In the tone of a patient adult humouring an idiot child, Mrs. Lorrimer replied: "Major Despard is a good sound player. Dr. Roberts overcalls, but plays his hand brilliantly. Miss Meredith is quite a nice little player, but a bit too cautious. Anything more?" In his turn doing a conjuring trick, Poirot produced four crumpled bridge scores. "These scores, Madame, is one of these yours?" She examined them. "This is my writing. It is the score of the third rubber.' "And this score?" "That must be Major Despard's. He cancels as he goes." "And this one?" "Miss Meredith's. The first rubber." "So this unfinished one is Dr. Roberts'?" "Yes." "Thank you, Madame, I think that is all." Mrs. Lorrimer turned to Mrs. Oliver. "Good-night, Mrs. Oliver. Good-night, Colonel Race." Then, having shaken hands with all four of them, she went out.
第五章 第二位凶手？
第五章 第二位凶手？

洛瑞玛太太象贵妇般走进餐厅，她脸色有点苍白，神色倒很镇定。 巴特探长说："打扰你真抱歉。" 洛瑞玛太太平平静静说："当然啦，你们得执行任务嘛。我也认为处于这种局面很不愉快，但是闪躲无济于事。我知道那个房间里的四个人必定有一位是凶手。我说不是我，自然不能指望你们相信。" 她接过瑞斯上校搬给她的椅子，坐在探长对面。一双精明的灰眼睛正视他的目光。她专心等着。 探长说："你跟夏塔纳先生很熟？" "不太熟。我跟他认识好几年了，但是来往不密切。" "你是在哪里认识他的？" "埃及的一家旅馆－－好象是鲁瑟城的冬季旅馆。" "你觉得他这个人怎么样？" 洛瑞玛太太微耸耸肩。 "我觉得他－－不妨这么说－－算是吹牛大王。" "你－－恕我这样问－－没有理由想除掉他吗？" 洛瑞玛太太似乎觉得很好玩。 "说真的，巴特探长，我若有动机，你认为我会承认吗？" 巴特说："也许会。真正的聪明人知道事情迟早会被人发现的。" 洛瑞玛太太若有所思低着头。 "有道理，当然。不，巴特探长，我没有理由希望夏塔纳先生死掉。其实他是死是活我都不在乎。我觉得他喜欢刁难人，很夸张，有时候叫人生气。这是我对他的看法。" "那就好。洛瑞玛太太，你能不能谈谈那三位牌友？" "恐怕不行。德斯帕少校和梅瑞迪斯小姐我是今天晚上才认识的。他们似乎都很迷人。罗勃兹医生我略微认识。我相信他是颇受欢迎的医师。" "他不是你的特约医生？" "噢，不是。" "洛瑞玛太太，你能不能告诉我今天晚上你离开座位多少次，也描述另外三个人的活动情形？" 洛瑞玛太太没有花时间思考。 "我知道你也许会问这句话。我刚才已经想过了。我当'梦家'的时候起来过一次。我走到炉边。当时夏塔纳先生还活着。我跟他说：能看到木头烧的火真好。" "他回答了？" "说他讨厌暖气炉。" "有没有人听见你们交谈？" "我想没有。我压低了嗓门，免得打扰牌友。"她淡然加上一句："事实上，你只能凭我的话得知夏塔纳先生当时还活着，而且跟我说过话。" 巴特探长并未反驳她。他继续以冷静和条理分明的态度来问话。 "当时是几点钟？" "我想当时我们已玩儿了一个多钟头。" "其它的人呢？" "罗勃兹医生端了一杯饮料给我。他自己也端了一杯－－那是更晚的时候。德斯帕少校也去端了一杯饮料－－大概在十一点十五左右吧。" "只去一次？" "不－－好象是两次。男士们走动多回，可是我没注意他们干什么。梅瑞迪斯小姐好象只离开座位一次。她绕过去看合伙人的牌。" "她始终靠近桥牌桌？" "我不敢确定。她可能走开过。" 巴特点点头。他咕哝道："一切都含糊不清。" "真抱歉。" 巴特再一次玩起魔术把戏，抽出锋利的小长剑。 "洛瑞玛太太，麻烦你看看这个。" 洛瑞玛太太不动声色接过来。 "你以前有没有见过这个东西。" "没见过。" "就放在客厅的一张茶几上呀。" "我没注意。" "洛瑞玛太太，你大概了解，这种武器女人用来杀人可以跟男人一样轻松。" "大概可以吧，"洛瑞玛太太平平静静说。 她探身向前，把精致的小玩意儿交还给他。 巴特探长说："可是那个女人也得相当不顾死活。很冒险。" 他等了一分钟，洛瑞玛太太没说话。 "你知不知道另外三个人和夏塔纳先生的关系？" 她摇摇头。 "完全不知道。" "你认为他们之中哪一个最有可能是凶手，肯不肯发表一下意见？" 洛瑞玛太太僵僵地挺一挺身子。 "我不喜欢做这种事。我认为这话问得不妥当。" 探长臊得象一个被祖母斥骂的小男生。 他把笔记本拉到面前，低声说："地址，拜托。" "契而西自治镇奇尼巷一一一号。" "电话号码？" "契而西四五六三二。"洛瑞玛太太站起来。 巴特匆匆说："白罗先生，你要不要问什么话？" 洛瑞玛太太停下来，略微低着头。 "夫人，不问你认为同伴们可不可能是凶手，问你对他们的牌技有什么看法，这问题妥当吗？" 洛瑞玛太太冷冷答道："如果跟案件有关的话，我不反对答复这个问题。只是我看不出关系何在。" "这一点由我来判断。麻烦你回答，夫人。" 洛瑞玛太太象大人哄个白痴小孩般以不耐烦的口吻说："德斯帕少校是相当稳健的牌友。罗勃兹医生叫牌叫得太高，但是牌打得很漂亮。梅瑞迪斯小姐打得不错，只是稍嫌太谨慎。还有没有问题？" 这回该白罗变戏法了，他抽出四张揉成一团的桥牌计分纸。 "夫人，这些计分纸是否有一张是你记的？" 她仔细检查。"这张是我写的－－第三盘的分数。" "这张计分表呢？" "一定是德斯帕少校写的。他一面写一面划掉。" "这张呢？" "梅瑞迪斯小姐写的。第一盘。" "那么未完成的一张是罗勃兹医生写的喽？" "是的。" "谢谢你，夫人。我想没有别的问题了。" 洛瑞玛太太转向奥利佛太太。 "晚安，奥利佛太太。晚安，瑞斯上校。" 接着她跟他们四个人一一握手才走出去。
CHAPTER 6 Third Murderer?
CHAPTER 6 Third Murderer?

"Didn't get any extra change out of her," commented Battle. "Put me in my place, too. She's the old-fashioned kind, full of consideration for others, but arrogant as the devil! I can't believe she did it, but you never know! She's got plenty of resolution. What's the idea of the bridge scores, M. Poirot?" Poirot spread them out on the table. "They are illuminating, do you not think? What do we want in this case? A clue to character. And a clue not to one character, but to four characters. And this is where we are most likely to find it--in these scribbled figures. Here is the first rubber, you see a tame business, soon over. Small neai figures-careful addition and subtraction--that is Miss Meredith's score. She was playing with Mrs. Lorrimer. They had the cards, and they won. "In this next one it is not so easy to follow the play, since it is kept in the cancellation style. But it tells us perhaps something about Major Desparda man who likes the whole time to know at a glance where he stands. The figures are small and full character. "This next score is Mrs. Lorrimer's--she and Dr. Roberts against the other two--a Homeric combat--figures mounting up above the line each side. Overcalling on the doctor's part, and they go down; but, since they are both first-class players, they never go down very much. If the doctor's overcalling induces rash bidding on the other side there is the chance seized of doubling. See--these figures here are doubled tricks gone down. A characteristic handwriting, graceful, very legible, firm. "Here is the last scorethe unfinished rubber. I collected one score in each person's handwriting, you see. Figures rather flamboyant. Not such high scores as the preceding rubber. That is probably because the doctor was playing with Miss Meredith, and she is a timid player. His calling would make her more so! "You think, perhaps, that they are foolish, these questions that I ask? But it is not so. I want to get at the characters of these four players, and when it is only about bridge I ask, every one is.ready and willing to speak." "I never think your questions foolish, M. Poirot," said Battle. "I've seen too much of your work. Every one's ggt their own ways of working. I know that. I give my inspectors a free hand always. JEvery one's got to find out for themselves what method suits them best. But we'd better not discuss that now. We'll have the girl in." Anne Meredith was upset. She stopped in the doorway. Her breath came unevenly. Superintendent Battle was immediately fatherly. He rose, set a chair for her at a slightly different angle. "Sit down, Miss Meredith, sit down. Now, don't be alarmed. I know all this seems rather dreadful, but it's not so bad, really." "I don't think anything could be worse," said the girl in a low voice. "It's so awful--so awful---to think that one of us--that one of us--" "You let me do the thinking," said Battle kindly. "Now, then, Miss Meredith, suppose we have your address first of all." "Wendon Cottage, Wallingford." "No address in town?" "No, I'm staying at my club for a day or two." "And your club is?" "Ladies' Naval and Military." "Good. Now, then, Miss Meredith, how well did you know Mr. Shaitana?" "I,, didn't know him well at all. I always thought he was a most frightening man, "Why?" "Oh, well, he was! That awful smile! And a way he had of bending over you. As though he might bite you." "Had you known him long?" "About nine months. I met him in Switzerland during the winter sports." "I should never have thought he went in for winter sports," said Battle, surprised. "He only skated. He was a marvellous skater. Lots of figures and tricks." "Yes, that sounds more like him. And did you see much of him after that?" "Well--a fair amount. He asked me to parties and things like that. They were rather fun." "But you didn't like him himself?." "No, I thought he was a shivery kind of man." Battle said gently: "But you'd no special reason for being afraid of him?"Anne Meredith raised wide limpid eyes to his.
"Special reason? Oh, no."
"That's all right, then. Now about tonight. Did you leave your seat at all?""I don't think so. Oh, yes, I may have done once. I went round to look at the others' hands." "But you stayed by the bridge-table all the time?" "Yes." "Quite sure, Miss Meredith?"The girl's cheeks flamed suddenly.
"No--no, I think I walked about." "Right. You'll excuse me, Miss Meredith, but try and speak the truth. I know you're nervous, and when one's nervous one's apt to--well, to say the thing the way you want it to be. But that doesn't really pay in the end. You walked about. Did you walk over in the direction of Mr. Shaitana?" The girl was silent for a minute, then she said: "Honestly--honestly--I don't remember." "Well, we'll leave it that you may have done. Know anything about the other three?" The girl shook her head. "I've never seen any of them before." "What do you think of them? Any likely murderers amongst them?" "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it. It couldn't be Major Despard. And I don't believe it could be the doctor after all, a doctor could kill any one in much easier ways. A drug--something like that." "Then, if it's any one, you think it's Mrs. Lorrimer." "Oh, I don't. I'm sure she wouldn't. She's so charming--and so kind to play bridge with. She's so good herself, and yet she doesn't make one feel nervous, or point out one's mistakes." "Yet you left her name to the last," said Battle. "Only because stabbing seems somehow more like a woman."Battle did his conjuring trick. Anne Meredith shrank back.
"Oh, horrible. Must I--take it?" "I'd rather you did." He watched her as she took the stiletto gingerly, her face contracted with repulsion. "With this tiny thing--with this. " "Go in like butter," said Battle with gusto. "A child could do it." "You mean--you mean" wide, terrified eyes fixed themselves on his face--"that I might have done it? But I didn't. Oh, I didn't. Why should I?" "That's just the question we'd like to know," said Battle. "What's the motive? Why did any one want to kill Shaitana? He was a picturesque person, but he wasn't dangerous, as far as I can make out." Was there a slight indrawing of her breath--a sudden lifting of her breast? "Not a blackmailer,, for instance, or anything of that sort?" went on Battle. "And anyway, Miss Meredith, you don't look the sort of girl who's got a lot of guilty secrets." For the first time she smiled, reassured by his geniality. "No, indeed I haven't. I haven't got any secrets at all." "Then don't you worry, Miss Meredith. We shall have to come round and ask you a few more questions, I expect, but it will be all a matter of routine.' He got up.
"Now you go off. My constable will get you a taxi; and don't you lie awake worrying yourself. Take a couple of aspirins." He ushered her out. As he came back Colonel Race said in a low, amused voice: "Battle, what a really accomplished liar .you are! Your fatherly air was unsurpassed." "No good dallying about with her, Colonel Race. Either the poor kid is dead scared in which case it's cruelty, and I'm not a cruel man; I never have been--or she's a highly accomplished little actress, and we shouldn't get any further if we were to keep her h/ere half the night." Mrs. Oliver gfve a sigh and ran her hands freely through her fringe until it stood upright andjgave her a wholly drunken appearance. "Do you knffw," she said, "I rather believe now that she did it! It's lucky it's not in a bvok. They don't really like the young and beautiful girl to have done it. All the same, I rather think she did. What do you think, M. Poirot?" "Me, I have just made a discovery." "In the bridge scores again?" "Yes. Miss Anne Meredith turns her score over, draws lines and uses the back." "And what does that mean?" "It means she has the habit of poverty or else is of a naturally economical turn of mind." "She's expensively dressed," said Mrs. Oliver. "Send in Major Despard," said Superintendent Battle.
第六章 第三位凶手？
第六章 第三位凶手？

巴特说："由她那儿探不出什么。还要我谨守职分呢。她是老派的人，一心为别人着想，却傲慢得象魔鬼似的！我不相信是她干的，不过也难说！她颇有决断力。白罗先生，你研究桥牌计分表干什么？" 白罗把计分表摊在桌上。 "这几张纸有启迪作用，你不觉得吗？这回我们要查什么？个性的线索。不只事关一个人的性格。我们最有机会查产线索的地方就是这儿－－这些潦草的字体。第一盘，你看－－平平淡淡的，很快就过去了。整洁的小数字－－谨慎的加减－－这是梅瑞迪斯小姐算的分数。她跟洛瑞玛太太同一组。他们有牌可打，结果赢了。 "下一张因为是一面写一面划掉，不容易追踪牌局，不过我们大概可藉此了解德斯帕少校的部分个性－－他喜欢一眼就知道自己的处境。数字小，很有特色。  "下一张洛瑞玛太太记的－－她和罗勃兹医生对抗另外两个人－－英勇的肉搏，双方的数字都在水准以上。以上叫牌叫得太高，他们没打成－－不过他们俩都是一流高手，所以从未落败太多。如果对方因医生叫得太高而轻率叫牌，他们就有机会因'加倍'而赢牌。看－－这些数字是没打成的加倍牌。字迹颇有特性，优雅、易读、结实。 "这是最后一张计分表－－未完成的那一盘。你看，每个人写的计分表我都各收集一张。（这张的）数字相当华丽。分数不象前一盘那么高。大概因为医生跟梅瑞迪斯小姐一组，而她打牌很胆怯吧。他叫牌的方式害她更胆小！ "你大概认为我问话很蠢吧？其实不见得。我要了解着四名牌手的个性，由于我只问桥牌方面的事情，人人都乐于开口说话。" 巴特说："白罗先生，我从来不认为你的问题愚蠢。我见过你太多的杰作。人人都有一套办事的方法，我知道。我总是让手下的督察自由办案。人人都得找出一套他最适用的方针。不过我们现在最好别谈这些。我们得请那位姑娘进来。" 安妮•梅瑞迪斯心烦意乱。她停在门口，呼吸颇不均匀。 巴特探长立即慈祥起来。他起身摆一张椅子给她坐，角度稍有不同。 "坐下，梅瑞迪斯小姐，坐下来。现在别惊慌。我知道一切看来很吓人，但是不见得真那么严重。" 少女低声说："我认为天下再没有更严重的事了。真可怕－－真可怕－－想想我们之中有一个人－－我们之中有一个人－－" 巴特和颜悦色说："你让我来思考好了。梅瑞迪斯小姐，我们先请教你的住址。" "瓦林福的文顿别墅。" "市区内没有住址？" "不，我在俱乐部暂住一两天。" "你的俱乐部是……" "'女性海陆军'俱乐部。" "好。梅瑞迪斯小姐，你跟夏塔纳先生熟识到什么程度？" "我跟他一点都不熟。我一向认为他很可怕。" "为什么？" "噢，他本来就是嘛！那种可怕的微笑。还有他低头看人的样子。活象要咬人一口似的。"  "你跟他认识很久了吗？" "大约九个月左右。我是冬季运动期在瑞士认识他的。" 巴特讶然说："我绝对没想到他会参加冬季运动。" "他只滑雪。滑得棒极了。有不少形式的花招。" "是的，这听来比较合乎他的个性。后来你常不常见到他？" "噢－－次数不少。他请我参加宴会之类的。内容相当有趣。" "可是你不喜欢他这个人？" "不，我认为他叫人发抖。" 巴特柔声说："但是你没有特殊的理由要怕他吧？" 梅瑞迪斯抬起明亮的大眼睛，盯着他的双眼。 "特殊的理由？噢，不。" "那就没问题。谈谈今晚的事，你有没有离开过座位？" "我想没有。噢，有，我可能离开过一次。我绕过去看别人的牌。" "但是你一直留在牌桌附近？" "是的。" "十分肯定吗，梅瑞迪斯小姐？" 少女的脸颊突然红得象火烧。 "不－－不，我想我从走动过。" "好。抱歉，梅瑞迪斯小姐，尽量说实话。我知道你很紧张，人紧张的时候容易－－噢，容易把事情说成自己希望的样子。其实不值得。你走动过。你是不是朝夏塔纳先生的方向走？"  少女沉默一分钟才说："说实话－－说实话－－我记不得。" "好，就算你有可能向那边走。知道另外三个人的情形吗？" 少女摇摇头。 "以前我没见过他们之中的任何一个人。" "你对他们有什么看法？他们之中有谁象凶手吗？" "我无法相信。我硬是无法相信。不可能是德斯帕少校。我也不相信是医生。毕竟医生能用更简单的方法来杀人－－药物之类的。" "那么，你认为若有一个是凶手，就是洛瑞玛太太喽。" "噢，我不认为如此。我相信她不会。她真迷人－－合作打桥牌真客气。自己牌技这么好，却不叫人觉得紧张，或者指出别人的错误。" "可是你把她的姓名留到最后，"巴特说。 "只是因为捅人一刀有点象女性的作风。" 巴特又开始变戏法。安妮•梅瑞迪斯往后缩。"噢，恐怖！我－－非拿不可吗？"  "我希望你拿。" 她战战兢兢接过小剑，厌烦得皱起面孔。 "用这个小东西－－用这个－－" 巴特津津有味说："象切奶油般插进去。小孩子都办得到。" "你意思是说－－你意思是说，"惊慌的大眼睛盯着他的面孔，"说我可能干下这件事。但是我没有。噢，我没有！我为什么要干呢？" 巴特说："这就是我们想知道的问题。动机是什么？为什么有人要杀夏塔纳？他装得活灵活现的，可是就我了解，他并不具危险性。" 她是不少微微倒抽了一口气－－胸部突然耸起？ 巴特继续说："譬如说，他不会勒索之类的。梅瑞迪斯小姐，反正你不象藏有罪恶隐私的女孩子。" 她第一次微笑，为他和蔼的态度而放心不少。"不，我真的没有。我根本没有秘密。" "那你别担心，梅瑞迪斯小姐。我们大概会过来再请教你几个问题，不过全是例行公事。"  他站起来。"现在你走吧。我手下的警察会替你叫部计程车，你别躺着睡不着，瞎操心。吃两片阿司匹灵吧。" 他送她出去。回来以后，瑞斯上校用好玩的的语气低声说："巴特，你真会撒谎！你那种慈父姿态简直没有人比得上。" "瑞斯上校，跟她磨下去也没有用。这可怜的孩子可能是吓得半死－－若是那样就太残忍了，而我不是残酷的人，向来不是－－不然就是演技出众的小演员，我们留她到半夜，也不会有任何进展。" 奥利佛太太叹息一声，两手乱抓浏海，最后毛发竖立，使她看起来象醉汉似的。她说："你们知道，现在我相信是她干的！幸亏不是在小说里。读者不喜欢年轻貌美的姑娘犯案。不过我依旧认为是她干的。白罗先生，你一位如何？" "我，我刚刚发现一件事。" "又是桥牌计分的问题？" "是的，安妮•梅瑞迪斯把计分纸翻过来，划了线，反面再用。" "这代表什么？" "可见她贫困成习，不然就是天生节俭。" "她穿的衣服很贵重哩，"奥利佛太太说。， "请德斯帕少校进来，"巴特探长说。
CHAPTER 7 Fourth Murderer?
CHAPTER 7 Fourth Murderer?

• Despard entered the room with a quick springing step--a step that reminded Poirot of something or some one. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting all this while, Major Despard," said Battle. "But I wanted to let the ladies get away as soon'as possible." "Don't apologise. I understand." He sat down and looked ihquiringly at the superintendent. "How well did you know Mr. Shaitana?" began the latter. "I've met him twice," said Despard crisply. "Only twice?" "That's all." "On what occasions?" "About a month ago we were both dining at the same house. Then he asked me to a cocktail party a week later." "A cocktail party here?" "Yes." "Where did it take place--this room or the drawing-room?" "In all the rooms." "See this little thing lying about?"Battle once more produced the stilleto.
Major Despard's lip twisted slightly.
"No," he said. "I didn't mark it down on that occasion for future use.""There's no need to go ahead of what I say, Major Despard.""I beg your pardon. The inference was fairly obvious."There was a moment's pause, then Battle resumed his inquiries.
"Had you any motive for disliking Mr. Shaitana?'
"Every motive."
"Eh?" The superintendent sounded startled.
"For disliking him--not for killing him," said Despard. "I hadn't the least wishto kill him, but I would thoroughly have enjoyed kicking him. A pity. It's too latenow.""Why did you want to kick him, Major Despard?""Because he was the sort of Dago who needed kicking badly. He used to make the toe of my boot fairly itch.""Know anything about him--to his discredit, I mean?""He was too well dressed he wore his hair too long--and he smelt of scent." "Yet you accepted his invitation to dinner," Battle pointed out.
"If I were only to dine in houses where I thoroughly approved of my host I'mafraid I shouldn't dine out very much, Superintendent Battle," said Despard dryly. "You like society, but you don't approve of it?" suggested the other.
"I like it for very short periods. To come back from the wilds to lighted rooms and women in lovely clothes, to dancing and good food and laughter--yes, I enjoy that for a time. And then the insincerity of it all sickens me, and I want to be off"It must be a dangerous sort of life that you lead, Major Despard, wandering about in these wild places."Despard shrugged his shoulders. He smiled slightly.
"Mr. Shaitana didn't lead a dangerous life--but he is dead, and I am alive!""He may have led a more dangerous life than you think," said Battle meaningly.
"What do you mean?"
"The late Mr. Shaitana was a bit of a Nosey Parker," said Battle.
The other leaned forward.
"You mean that he meddled with other people's lives--that he discovered what?""I really meant that perhaps he was the sort of man who meddled---er--well, with women."Major Despard leant back in his chair. He laughed, an amused but indifferent laugh.
"I don't think women would take a mountebank like that seriously." "What's your theory of who killed him, Major Despard?""Well, I know I didn't. Little Miss Meredith didn't. I can't imagine Mrs. Lorrimer doing so--she reminds me of one of my more God-fearing aunts. That leaves the medical gentleman.""Can you describe your own and other people's movements this evening?""I got up twice once for an ash-tray, and I also poked the fireand once for a drink ""At what times?""I couldn't say. First time might have been about half-past ten, the second time eleven, but that's pure guesswork. Mrs. Lorrimer went over to the fire onceand said something to Shaitana. I didn't actually hear him answer, but then, I wasn't paying attention. I couldn't swear he didn't. Miss Meredith wandered about the room a bit, but I don't think she went over near the fireplace. Roberts was always jumping up and down--three or four times at least.""I'll ask you M. Poirot's question," said Battle with a smile. "What did you think of them as bridge players?""Miss Meredith's quite a good player. Roberts overcalls his hand disgracefully. He deserves to go down more than he does. Mrs. Lorrimer's damned good."Battle turned to Poirot. "Anything else, M. Poirot?" Poirot shook his head.
Despard gave his address as the Albany, wished them good-night and left the room.
As he closed the door behind him, Poirot made a slight movement. "W' demanded Battle.
"Nothing,' said Poirot. "It just occurred to me that he walked like a tiger--yes, just so--lithe, easy, does the tiger move along.""H'm!" said Battle. "Now, then" his eye glanced round at his three companions"which of'em did it?"
第七章 第四位凶手？
第七章 第四位凶手？

德斯帕以敏捷轻快的步伐走进房间－－使白罗想起某一种动物或者某一个人。  巴特说："德斯帕少校，让你久等真抱歉。不过我要让太太小姐们尽速离开。" "别道歉，我了解的。"他坐下来，以询问的目光看看探长。 "你跟夏塔纳先生相熟到什么程度？"后者问道。 "我见过他两次，"德斯帕爽爽快快说。 "只有两次？" "只是这样。" "在什么场合见面的？" "大约一个月之前，我们同赴某家人的餐宴。过了一个星期，他请我参加鸡尾酒会。" "在这儿举行鸡尾酒会？" "是的。" "在什么地方－－这个房间还是客厅？" "所有的房间都利用到了。" "有没有看到这个小东西摆在一处地方？" 巴特再度抽出小剑。 德斯帕少校略微歪歪嘴唇。 他说："不，我那回并没有记下此物的位置，以备日后使用。" "德斯帕少校，用不着进一步推测我话里的意思。" "对不起。推演过程很明显嘛。" 侦询中断片刻，接着巴特继续发问。 "你有没有理由讨厌夏塔纳先生？" "动机多得很。" "呃？"探长似乎很惊讶。 德斯帕说："是指讨厌他－－不是杀他的动机。我一点都不想杀他，可是我真想踢他几脚。真遗憾。现在来不及了。" "德斯帕少校，你为什么想踢他？" "因为他正是那种需要狠狠踢几脚的鼠辈。他常常害得我脚趾发痒。" "对他有多少认识－－我是指有损他名声的一面？" "他的衣着太考究；头发太长，身上有臭味。" 巴特指出："然而你应邀来他家吃饭。" 德斯帕淡然说："巴特探长，如果我只到自己赞许的东道主家吃饭，那我出去赴宴的机会恐怕不多。" 探长暗示说："你喜欢社交，却不赞成这样？" "我喜欢短时间内多交际。由蛮荒地区回到灯火通明的室内，见见衣着迷人的女性，跳跳舞，吃吃好饭菜，谈谈笑笑－－是的，我一度喜欢。接着我厌倦了那种缺乏诚意的气氛，又想再度远行。" "德斯帕少校，你在蛮荒地区流浪，那种生活一定很危险。" 德斯帕耸耸肩，泛出笑容。 "夏塔纳先生的生活不危险－－可是他死了，我却活着！" 巴特意味深长说："他过的生活也许比你想象中危险多了。" "你这话是什么意思？" "已故的夏塔纳先生有点好管闲事，"巴特说。 对方的身子往前倾。"你是说他介入别人的生活－－发现了－－什么？" "我是说，他也许爱跟－－呃－－女性胡来。" 德斯帕少校仰靠在椅子上。他笑了，似乎觉得很有意思却又漠不关心。 "我想女人不会对这种骗子太认真。" "德斯帕少校，你推想是谁杀他？" "噢，我知道不是我干的，也不是梅瑞迪斯小姐干的。我无法想象洛瑞玛太太做这种事－－她叫我想起某一位敬畏上帝的姑妈。年就只剩医生了。" "你能不能描述你自己和别人今夜的活动？" "我站起来两次－－一次去那烟灰碟，还拨了炉火－－另外一次去拿饮料。" "什么时间？" "我不敢确定。第一次大概是十一点，不过都是瞎猜的。洛瑞玛太太曾经走到炉边一次，跟夏塔纳先生说了一句话。我没听见他回答，不过当时我没注意，不过保证他没开口。梅瑞迪斯小姐在屋内逛来逛去，可是我觉得她没走近壁炉。罗勃兹医生老是跳起跳落－－至少三四回。" 巴特微笑说："我要问你一个白罗先生想出来的问题。你认为他们的牌技如何？" "梅瑞迪斯小姐打得不错。罗勃兹叫牌叫得太高，简直丢人。他该败得比实际上更惨。洛瑞玛太太的牌技棒极了。" 巴特转向白罗。 "白罗先生，还有没有话要问？" 白罗摇摇头。 德斯帕把阿本尼地区的地址说出来，祝他们晚安，就踏出门外。 他关上门以后，白罗略微动一下。巴特问他："怎么？" 白罗说："没什么。我只是突然觉得他走路象老虎－－是的，柔软、轻松，老虎就这样往前走。" 巴特说："哼！"他环顾三位同伴，"喏，究竟是其中的哪一个干的？"
CHAPTER 8 Which of Them?
CHAPTER 8 Which of Them?

Battle looked from one face to another. Only one person answered his question.
Mrs. Oliver, never averse to giving her views, rushed into speech.
"The girl or the doctor," she said.
Battle looked questioningly at the other two. But both the men were unwilling to make a pronouncement. Race shook his head. Poirot carefully smoothed his crumpled bridge scores.
"One of 'em did it," said Battle musingly. "One of 'em's lying like hell. But which? It's not easy--no, it's not easy."He was silent for a minute or two, then he said:
"If we're to go by what they say, the medico thinks Despard did it, Despard thinks the medico did it, the girl thinks Mrs. Lorrimer did it--and Mrs. Lorrimerwon't say! Nothing very illuminating there." "Perhaps not," said Poirot. Battle shot him a quick glance. "You think there is?" -Poirot waved an airy hand.
"A nuance--nothing more! Nothing to go upon."Battle continued:
"You two gentlemen won't say what you think ""No evidence," said Race curtly.
"Oh, you raen!" sighed Mrs. Oliver, despising such reticence.
"Let's look at the rough possibilities," said Battle. He considered a minute. "Iput the doctor first, I think. Specious sort of customer. Would know the right spot to shove the dagger in. But there's not much more than that to it. Then take Despard. There's a man with any amount of nerve. A man accustomed to quick decisions and a man who's quite at home doing dangerous things. Mrs. Lorrimer? She's got any amount of nerve, too, and she's the sort of woman who might have a secret in her life. She looks as though she's known trouble. On the other hand, I'd say she's what I call a high-principled woman--sort of. woman who might be headmistress of a girls' school. It isn't easy to think of her sticking a knife into any one. In fact, I don't think she did. And lastly, there's little Miss Meredith. We don't know anything about her. She seems an ordinary good-looking, rather shy girl. But one doesn't know, as I say, anything about her." "We know that Shaitana believed she had committed murder," said Poirot. "The angelic face masking the demon," mused Mrs. Oliver. "This getting us anywhere, Battle?" asked Colonel Race. "Unprofitable speculation, you think, sir? Well, there's bound to be speculation in a case like this." "Isn't it better to find out something about these people?" Battle smiled. "Oh, we shall be hard at work on that. I think you could help us there." "Certainly. How?" "As regards Major Despard. He's been abroad a lot--in South America, in East Africa, in South Africa--you've means of knowing those parts. You could get information about him." Race nodded. "It shall be done. I'll get all available data." "Oh," cried Mrs. Oliver. "I've got a plan. There are four of us--four sleuths, as you might say--and four of them! How would it be if we each took one. Backed our fancy! Colonel Race takes Major Despard, Superintendent Battle takes Dr. Roberts, I'll take Anne Meredith, and M. Poirot takes Mrs. Lorrimer. Each of us to follow our own line!" Superintendent Battle shook his head decisively. "Couldn't quite do that, Mrs. Oliver. This is official, you see. I'm in charge. I've got to investigate all lines. Besides, it's all very well to say back your fancy. Two of us might want to back the same horse! Colonel Race hasn't said he suspects Major Despard. And M. Poirot mayn't be putting his money on Mrs. Lorrimer." Mrs. Oliver sighed. "It was such a good plan," she sighed regretfully. "So neat." Then she cheered up a little. "But you don't mind me doing a little investigating on my own, do you?" "No," said Superintendent Battle slowly. "I can't say I object to that. In fact, it's out of my power to object. Having been at this party tonight, you're naturally free to do anything your own curiosity or interest suggests. But I'd like to point out to you, Mrs. Oliver, that you'd better be a little careful." "Discretion itself," said Mrs. Oliver. "I shan't breathe a word of-of anything- "she ended a little lamely. "I do not think that was quite Superintendent Battle's meaning," said Hercule Poirot. "He meant that you will be dealing with a person who has already, to the best of our belief, killed twice. A person, therefore, who will not hesitate to kill a third time--if he considers it necessary." Mrs. Oliver looked at him thoughtfully. Then she smiled---an agreeable engaging smile, rather like that of an impudent small child.
"You HAVE BEEN WARNED," she quoted. "Thank you, M. Poirot. I'll watch my step. But I'm not going to be out of this." Poirot bowed gracefully. "Permit me to say--you are the sport, Madame." "I presume," said Mrs. Oliver, sitting up very straight and speaking in a business-like committee-meeting manner, "that all information we receive will be pooled--that is, that we will not keep any knowledge to ourselves. Our own deductions and impressions, of course, we are entitled to keep up our sleeves." Superintendent Battle sighed. "This isn't a detective story, Mrs. Oliver," he said. Race said: "Naturally, all information must be handed over to the police." Having said this in his most "Orderly Room" voice, he added with a slight twinkle in his eye: "I'm sure you'll play fair, Mrs. Oliver--the stained glove, the fingerprint on the tooth-glass, the fragment of burnt paper--you'll turn them over to Baffle here." "You may laugh," said Mrs. Oliver. "But a woman's intuition " She nodded her head with decision.
Race rose to his feet. "I'll have Despard looked up for you. It may take a little time. Anything else I can do?" "I don't think so, thank you, sir. You've no hints? I'd value anything of that kind." "H'm. Well--I'd keep a special lookout for shooting or poison or accidents, but I expect you're on to that already." "I'd made a note of that--yes, sir." "Good man, Battle. You don't need me to teach you your job. Goodnight, Mrs. Oliver. Good-night, M. Poirot." And, with a final nod to Battle, Colonel Race left the room. "Who is he?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "Very fine Army record," said Battle. "Travelled a lot, too. Not many parts of the world he doesn't know about." "Secret Service, I suppose," said Mrs. Oliver. "You can't tell me so--I know; but he wouldn't have been asked otherwise this evening. The four murderers and the four sleuths--Scotland Yard. Secret Service. Private. Fiction. A clever idea." Poirot shook his head. "You are in error, Madame. It was a very stupid idea. The tiger was alarmed--and the tiger sprang." "The tiger? Why the tiger?" "By the tiger I mean the murderer," said Poirot. Battle said bluntly: "What's tour idea of the right line to take, M. Poirot? That's one question. And I'd also like to know what you think of the psychology of these four people. You're rather hot on that." Still smoothing his bridge scores, Poirot said: "You are right--psychology is very important. We know the kind of murder that has been committed, the way it was committed. If we have a person who from the psychological point of view could not have committed that particular type of murder, then we can dismiss that person from our calculations. We know something about these people. We have our own impression of them, we know theline that each has elected to take, and we know something about their minds and their characters from what we have learned about them as card players and from the study of their handwriting and of these scores. But alas! it is not too easy to give a definite pronouncement. This murder required audacity and nerva person who was willing to take a risk. Well, we have Dr. Roberts--a bluffer--an overcaller of his hand--a man with complete confidence in his own powers to pull off a risky thing. His psychology fits very well with the crime. One might say, then, that that automatically wipes out Miss Meredith. She is timid, frightened of overcalling her hand, careful, economical, prudent and lacking in self-confidence. The last type of person to carry out a bold and risky coup. But a timid person will murder out of fear. A frightened nervous person can be made desperate, can turn like a rat at bay if driven into a corner. If Miss Meredith had committed a crime in the past, and if she believed that Mr. Shaitana knew the circumstances of that crime and was about to deliver her up to justice she would be wild with terror--she would stick at nothing to save herself. It would be the same result, though brought about through a different reaction--not cool nerve and daring, but desperate panic. Then take Major Despard--a cool, resourceful man willing to try a long shot if he believed it absolutely necessary. He would weigh the pros and cons and might decide that there was a sporting chance in his favour--and he is the type of man to prefer action to inaction, and a man who would never shrink from taking the dangerous way if he believed there was a reasonable chance of success. Finally, there is Mrs. Lorrimer, an elderly woman, but a woman in full possession of her wits and faculties. A cool woman. A woman with a mathematical brain. She has probably the best brain of the four. I confess that if Mrs. Lorrimer committed a crime, I should expect it to be a premeditated crime. I can see her planning a crime slowly and carefully, making sure that there were no flaws in her scheme. For that reason she seems to me slightly more unlikely than the other three. She is, however, the most dominating personality, and whatever she undertook she would probably carry through without a flaw. She is a thoroughly efficient woman." He paused. "So, you see, that does not help us much. No--there is only one way in this crime. We must go back into the past." Battle signed. "You've said it," he murmured. "In the opinion of Mr. Shaitana, each of those four people had committed murder. Had he evidence? Or was it a guess? We cannot tell. It is unlikely, I think, that he could have had actual evidence in all four cases- " "I agree with you there," said Battle, nodding his head. "That would be a bit too much of a coincidence." "I suggest that it might come. about this way--murder or a certain form of murder is mentioned, and Mr. Shaitana surprised a look on some one's face. He was very quick very sensitive to expression. It amuses him to experiment--to probe gently in the course of apparently aimless conversation he is alert to notice a wince, a reservation, a desire to turn the conversation. Oh, it is easily done. If you suspect a certain secret, nothing is easier than to confirm your suspicion. Every time a word goes home you notice it--if you are watching for such a thing." "It's the sort of game would have amused our late friend," said Battle, nodding. "We may assume, then, that such was the procedure in one or more cases: He may have come across a piece of actual evidence in another case and followed it up.
I doubt whether, in any of the cases, he had sufficient actual knowledge with which, for instance, to have gone to the police." "Or it mayn't have been the kind of case," said Battle. "Often enough there's a fishy business--we suspect foul play, but we can't ever prove it. Anyway, the course is clear. We've got to go through the records of all these people--and note any deaths that may be significant. I expect you noticed, just as the Colonel did, what Shaitana said at dinner." "The black angel," murmured Mrs. Oliver. "A neat little reference to poison, to accidents, to a doctor's opportunities, to shooting accidents. I shouldn't be surprised if he signed his death-warrant when he said those words." "It was a nasty sort of pause," said Mrs. Oliver. "Yes," said Poirot. "Those words went home to one person at least--that person probably thought that Shaitana knew far more than he really did. That licner thought that they were the prelude to the end--that the party was a dramahe entertainment arranged by Shaitana leading up to arrest for murder as its climax! Yes, as you say, he signed his death-warrant when he baited his guests with these words." There was a moment's silence. "This will be a long business," said Battle with a sigh. "We can't find out all we want in a moment--and we've got to be careful. We don't want any of the four to suspect what we're doing. All our questioning and so on must seem to have to do with this murder. There mustn't be a suspicion that we've got any idea of the motive for the crime. And the devil of it is we've got to check up on four possible murders in the past, not one." Poirot demurred. "Our friend Mr. Shaitana was not infallible," he said. "He may--it is just possible have made a mistake." "About all four?" "No--he was more intelligent than that." "Call it fifty-fifty?" "Not even that. For me, I say one in four." "One innocent and three guilty? That's bad enough. And the devil of it is, even if we get at the truth it mayn't help us. Even if somebody did push their great-aunt down the stairs in 1912, it won't be much use to us in 1937." "Yes, yes, it will be of use to us." Poirot encouraged him. "You know that. You know it as well as I do." Battle nodded slowly. "I know what you mean," he said. "Same hallmark." "Do you mean," said Mrs. Oliver, "that the former victim will have been stabbed with a dagger too?" "Not quite as crude as that, Mrs. Oliver," said Battle turning to her. "But I don't doubt it will be essentially the same type of crime. The details may be different, but the essentials underlying them will be the same. It's odd, but a criminal gives himself away every time by that." "Man is an unoriginal animal," said Hercule Poirot. "Women," said Mrs. Oliver, "are capable of infinite variation. I should never commit the same type of murder twice running." "Don't you ever write the same plot twice running?" asked Battle. "The Lotus Murder," murmured Poirot. "The Clue of the Candle Wax."Mrs. Oliver turned on him, her eyes beaming appreciation.
"That's clever of you--that's really very clever of you. Because, of course,those two are exactly the same plot--but nobody else has seen it. One is stolenpapers at an informal week-end party of the Cabinet, and the other's a murder inBorneo in a rubber planter's bungalow."
"But the essential point on which the story turns is the same," said Poirot.
"One of your neatest tricks. The rubber planter arranges his own murder--theCabinet Minister arranges the robbery of his own papers. At the last minute thethird person steps in and turns deception into reality.""I enjoyed your last, Mrs. Oliver," said Superintendent Battle kindly. "Theone where all the Chief Constables were shot simultaneously. You just slipped uponce or twice on official details. I know you're keen on accuracy, so I wonderedif-"
Mrs. Oliver interrupted him.
"As a matter of fact I don't care two pins about accuracy. Who is accurate?
Nobody nowadays. If a reporter writes that a beautiful girl of twenty-two dies byturning on the gas after looking out over the sea and kissing her favourite labrador,Bob, good-bye, does anybody make a fuss because the girl was twenty-six, theroom faced inland, and the dog was a Sealyham terrier called Bonnie? If a journalistcan do that sort of thing, I don't see that it matters if I mix up police ranks and say arevolver when I mean an automatic, and a dictograph when I mean a phonograph,and use a poison that just allows you to gasp one dying sentence and no more.
What really matters is plenty of bodies! If the thing's getting a little dull, some more blood cheers it up. Somebody is going to tell something--and then they'rekilled first! That always goes down well. It comes in all my books-camoufiageddifferent ways, of course. And people like untraceable poisons, and idiotic policeinspectors and girls tied up in cellars with sewer gas or water pouring in (such atroublesome way of killing any one really) and a hero who can dispose of anythingfrom three to seven villains single-handed. I've written thirty-two books by now--and of course they're all exactly the same really, as M. Poirot seems to havenoticed--but nobody else has--and I only regret one thing--making my detectivea Finn. I don't really know anything about Finns and I'm always getting lettersfrom Finland pointing out something impossible that he's said or done. They seemto read detective stories a good deal in Finland. I suppose it's the long winters withno daylight. In Bulgaria and Roumania they don't seem to read at all. I'd have donebetter to have made him a Bulgar."
She broke off.
"I'm so sorry. I'm talking shop. And this is a real murder." Her face lit up.
"What a good idea it would be if none of them had murdered him. If he'd askedthem all, and then quietly committed suicide just for the fun of making aschemozzle."
Poirot nodded approvingly.
"An admirable solution. So neat. So ironic. But, alas, Mr. Shaitana was notthat sort of man. He was very fond of life."
"I don't think he was really a nice man," said Mrs. Oliver slowly.
"He was not nice, no," said Poirot. "But he was alive--and now he is dead,and as I told him once, I have a bourgeois attitude to murder. I disapprove of it."He added softly: "And soI am prepared to go inside the tiger's cage "
第八章 哪一位干的？
第八章 哪一位干的？

巴特逐一凝视每个人的面孔。只有一个人答复他的问题。奥利佛太太向来不讨厌发表意见，马上说出来了。 "少女或医生，"她说。 巴特以探询的目光看另外两个人。两人都不愿意发表意见。瑞斯摇摇头。白罗仔细摩平皱巴巴的桥牌计分表。 巴特说："其中一位干的。其中一位撒了大谎。是哪一个呢？不容易－－噢，不容易。" 他沉默一两分钟才说："我们若听信他们的话，医生认为是德斯帕干的，德斯帕认为是医生干的，少女认为是洛瑞玛太太干的－－洛瑞玛太太不肯说！没什么启发性的线索。" "也许没有吧，"白罗说。 巴特迅速瞥了他一眼。 "你认为有？" 白罗挥挥手。 "些微的差异－－没什么！不足为凭。" 巴特继续往下说："你们两位不肯说出心里的想法－－" "没有证据，"瑞斯简略答道。 奥利佛太太瞧不起这种沉默的作风，她叹道："噢，你们男人！" 巴特说，"我们来看一看大略的可能。"他考虑了一分钟。"我想我要把医生放在第一位。故作老实的一型。知道该从什么部位插进匕首。不过也只有这点理由罢了。下一位是德斯帕。他是个胆量奇打的人，习惯迅速作决定，而且擅于干危险的事。洛瑞玛太太？她的胆子也非常大，而且生命中可能有过秘密。她似乎遭遇过麻烦。可是由另一方面来说，我敢说她是个操守很高的女人－－足以当女校的校长。很难想象她会拿刀子刺人。事实上，我认为不是她干的。最后还有小梅瑞迪斯小姐。我们对她一无所知。她象一个正常、美貌、害羞的姑娘。可是我说过，大家对她一无所知。" "我们知道夏塔纳先生认定她杀过人，"白罗说。 "天使的面孔掩蔽了魔鬼的本性，"奥利佛太太沉吟道。 "巴特，这能给我们什么线索吗？"瑞斯上校问道。 "先生，你认为推测无益？噢，这种案件非推测不可。" "查一查这些人的资料不是更好吗？" 巴特笑一笑。"噢，我们会努力调查。我认为这方面你可以协助我们。" "当然。怎么查法？" "关于德斯帕少校：他常常出国－－到南美、东非、南非－－你有办法探查那些地区。你可以获取他的资料。"瑞斯点点头。 "可以办到。我会尽量取得资料。" 奥利佛太太嚷道："噢，我有个计划。我们一共四个人－－不妨说是四个侦探－－他们也是四个人！我们一个逮一个如何？瑞斯上校逮德斯帕少校，巴特探长逮罗勃兹医生。我来逮安妮•梅瑞迪斯，白罗逮洛瑞玛太太。我们各走各的路线！" 巴特探长摇摇头。 "不行，奥利佛太太。你知道这是公事，我是负责人。我必须调查所有的线索。何况'各取所好'说得太美了。也许两个人想追同一匹马呢！瑞斯上校可没说他怀疑德斯帕少校。白罗先生也许不认为是洛瑞玛太太。" 奥利佛太太叹了一口气。 她抱憾叹息说："这个计划好极了，干净利落。"接着又打起精神。"不过你不反对我自己做点小调查吧？" 巴特探长慢慢说："不，我不能表示异议。事实上，我也无权反对。你参加今天晚上的宴会，自然可以采取你感到好奇或者感兴趣的行动。不过奥利佛太太，我要提醒你，你最好小心一点" 奥利佛太太说："绝对小心。我不会吐露－－半字－－"她有气无力地住口。 赫邱里•白罗说："我想巴特探长不是这个意思。他是说你要对付的家伙可能已杀过两次人－－他若觉得有必要，会毫不犹豫地杀第三次。" 奥利佛太太若有所思看看他，接着泛出笑容－－讨喜、迷人的笑容，活像冒失的小孩子。 她引述别人的话说："我们事先警告过你呀。"又说，"白罗先生，谢谢你，我行事会小心。但是我不退出行动。" 白罗斯斯文文鞠个躬。 "容我说一句话－－夫人，你是赌徒。" 奥利佛太太直挺挺坐着，以商务委员见经理的口气说："我想我们搜集的一切情报都得公用－－也就是说，我们知道的事情不能藏私。当然啦，我们的推论和印象有权留着。" 巴特探长叹了一口气。 他说："奥利佛太太，这不是侦探小说。" 瑞斯说："所有情报自然都得交给警方。" 他以"团本部"的口吻说完这句话，又眨眨眼睛说："奥利佛太太，我相信你会正大光明行动。沾了血的手套啦，漱口杯上的指纹啦，烧过的纸张碎片啦……你都会交给巴特。" 奥利佛太太说："你尽管取笑吧，不过女性的直觉－－"她断然点点头。 瑞斯站起身。 "我会替你调查德斯帕。可能要花点时间。还有什么要我帮忙？" "我想没有了，谢谢你，先生。你不提出暗示吗？我珍惜这一类的东西。" "嗯。好－－我特别注意射击、毒杀或意外事件，不过我以为你已经向这方面进展了。" "我已记下这些－－是的，先生。" "好，巴特。你办案用不着我来教。晚安，奥利佛太太。晚安，白罗先生。"瑞斯上校向巴特点了最后一次头，走出房间。 "他是谁？"奥利佛太太问道。 巴特说，"军中的纪录好极了。经常旅行。世界上他不知道的地方并不多。" 奥利佛太太说，"我猜是密探。我知道你不能跟我明说，不过若非如此，今天晚上主人就不会邀请他了。四个凶手加四个侦探－－一个苏格兰场的，一个密探，一个私家侦探，一个侦探小说家。真是聪明的主意。" 白罗摇摇头。 "你错了，夫人。这是很笨的主意。老虎惊惶了－－老虎向前扑。" "老虎？为什么说老虎？" "我所谓老虎是指凶手而言，"白罗说。 巴特率然说，"白罗先生，你认为该采取什么路线？这是问题之一。我还想知道你对这四个人的心理有何看法。这一套你挺热衷嘛。" 白罗还在摩平桥牌计分纸，他说："你说得对，心理很重要。我们知道凶手犯的是哪一种谋杀案，以何种方式犯案。如果我们查到某人由心理观点来说不可能犯这种特殊类型的案子，我们就可以将他剔除，不算在内了。我们对这些人略有认识。我们对他们已留下某种印象；知道各自选的路线；得知他们打牌的特性，研究过他们的笔迹和计分方式，藉此对他们的心智和特性有了某种了解。可惜呀！要明确宣布结果并不简单。这件命案需要胆识和勇气－－愿意冒险的人才干得来。 "好啦，我们名单上有罗勃兹医生－－他虚张声势，叫牌叫得太高，完全相信自己有能力把冒险的事情做好。他的心态跟这个刑案相当吻合。我们也许会说，这一来梅瑞迪斯小姐的嫌疑就自动抹除了。她胆子小，怕叫牌叫得太过份，小心、节省、审慎、缺乏自信－－最不可能从事大胆又冒险的突击。不过胆怯的人会因恐惧而杀人。惊慌又紧张的人若被逼进死角，会不顾死活，象陷入绝境的老鼠。如果梅瑞迪斯小姐以前犯过罪，如果她相信夏塔纳先生知道法案的情形，准备把她交给法律制裁，她一定会吓得发疯；她会不择手段来自保。结果是一样的，只是反应过程不同而已－－不是冷静勇敢，而是绝望得发狂。 "再看看德斯帕少校－－一个冷静、足智多谋的人，他若相信有必要，便肯试发一记远程枪。他衡量有利和不利的因素，或许认定他有机会赢－－他是喜欢行动，不喜欢闲着的人，只要他确信有相当的胜算，他绝不怕走险路。最后是洛瑞玛太太，她是老妇人，却有充分的智能和才干。性格冷静，有数学头脑。四个人之中也许她的脑筋最棒哩。洛瑞玛太太如果犯案，我料想是预谋。我能想象她慢慢地，小心地策划一件罪行，确定自己的计划毫无瑕疵。基于着个理由，我总觉得她比另外三个人的可能性低。不过她这个人富于主宰力，她无论从事什么，也许都能做得完美无缺。她是效率极高的女人。"他暂停片刻。 "所以你们看，这没有多大的帮助。不－－查这个案子只有一个办法。我们得追查往事。" 巴特叹了一口气，咕哝到："你说过了。" "照夏塔纳先生的看法，这四个人都犯过案。他有证据吗？还是瞎猜的？我们不敢说。我想他不可能握有四件案子的明确证据吧－－" 巴特点点头说："这方面我跟你有同感。若是那样，未免太巧了。" "我想事情大概是这样发生的－－大家谈到谋杀或者某一类型的凶杀案，夏塔纳先生不巧主意到某人的表情。他十分敏感－－对表情很敏感。他觉得试验试验很有意思，不妨在没有目标的谈话中轻轻刺探；他留意对方有没有闪躲，有没有保留，是否想改变话题。噢，这不难嘛。你若疑心某一个秘密，要证实自己的疑虑真是再容易不过了。没次有个字眼击中目标，你都会注意到－－如果你正留心这种反应的话。" 巴特点头说："这种把戏我们已故的朋友一定觉得好玩。" "那我们不妨假定一两椿案子是这样发现的。他也许偶尔触及另一件案子的真实证据，就往下追查。我怀疑他是不是对某一件案子具有充分而确切的认识－－足以向警方报案之类的。" 巴特说："情况也许不是如此。往往有些可疑的事－－我们怀疑有诈却永远无法证明。反正路线很清楚。我们先调查这些人的一切纪录－－注意含意特殊的死亡事件。我想你们跟上校一样，注意到夏塔纳在晚宴上说的话了。"奥利佛太太喃喃地说："黑天使。" "有一小段话涉及毒药、意外、医生的良机、射击失手……等等。如果说他讲这些话的时候签下了自己的死亡令，我不会吃惊的。" "那段话叫人讨厌，"奥利佛太太说。 白罗说："是的。这些话至少击中了已故人的要害－－那人大概以为夏塔纳所知的远比实际上来得多。听者以为这些话是结局的序曲－－夏塔纳特意安排精采的宴会，以逮捕凶手为高潮！是的，你说的不错，他说这些话来逗弄来宾，等于签下了自己的死亡令。" 大家沉默片刻。 巴特叹口气说，"这是长程的工作。我们不可能立刻查明所需的资料－－我们必须小心。我们不想让四个人之中的任何以为猜出我们的行动。表面上问话必须绕着此案打转。千万别让他们疑心我们已晓得犯案的动机。惨的是我们不只该查一件往日的命案，得查四件哩。" 白罗表示异议。 他说："我们的朋友夏塔纳先生并非绝对没有错误。他也许－－可能－－弄错了。" "四件都弄错？" "不－－他还不至于笨到那种程度。" "不妨说是一半对一半错？" "还不至于。我是说四件中也许有一件是错的。" "一个无辜，三个有罪？那真糟糕。惨的是我们就算得知真相，可能也没有用处。就算多年前某人把老姑婆推下楼梯，对我们今天办案又有什么帮助呢？" 白罗给他打气说："有，有，对我们有帮助。你知道的。你我都知道。" 巴特慢慢点头。 他说，"我知道你的意思。同样的检验证明。" 奥利佛太太说："你是说，以前的死者也是被匕首刺杀的？" 巴特转向她说："不见得这么粗浅，奥利佛太太。不过我相信基本上是同一类型的犯罪。细节也许不同，潜在的要素则一样。说也奇怪，每次犯案者都是因为这一点而泄露了秘密。" 赫邱里•白罗说，"人是缺乏创意的动物。" 奥利佛太太说："女人能千变万化。我绝不会连着两次干同一型的命案。" 巴特问道，"你没写过两次相同的故事吗？" 白罗低声说："《忘忧草命案》和《蜡烛的线索》。" 奥利佛太太转向他，激赏得双目发光。"你真聪明－－你真聪明。当然那两案的情节相同，可是别人都看不出来。一个是内阁的周末宴会失窃了文件，一个是婆罗洲某橡胶农主家的命案。" 白罗说："不过故事发展的重点相同。是你笔下最利落的把戏之一。橡胶农主安排自己的命案；内阁阁员安排自己的文件失窃案。最后一刻，第三者插手，使骗局成真。" 巴特探长客客气气说："奥利佛太太，我欣赏你的最近一本。巡官的主管都同时中枪。你描写官方的细节，只失误过一两次。我知道你喜欢求精确，所以不知道是否－－" 奥利佛太太打断他的话。 "其实我才不管精确不精确呢。谁讲究精确？今天谁也办不到。一位记者若描写说：有个二十二岁的美人儿眺望大海，吻别她心爱的拉布拉多犬'鲍伯'，然后开瓦斯自杀，谁会小题大做说那女孩子其实是二十六岁，房间是面向陆地，那只狗是西亚汉犬，名叫'邦尼'呢？如果连记者的能这么做，那我把警察的阶级搞错了，想说自动手枪却说成左轮枪，想说留声机却说成侦听器，书中使用一种只容受害人吐出半句就死掉的毒药，又有什么关系呢？ "真正要紧的是大量的尸体！内容若有点沉闷，多加点血迹可疑生动些。某人正要说出一件事－－未出口先送命！这一套往往吃得开。我的每一部作品都来这一套－－当然以不同的方式改装过。读者喜欢查不出来源的毒药，喜欢笨警察和少女被绑在地窖，阴沟的瓦斯活污水猛灌进来，喜欢这种麻烦的杀人方式，喜欢一位能单枪匹马对付三到七位坏人的男主角。我已经写过三十二本书－－白罗先生似乎注意到了，内容其实差不多－－不过别人都看不出来；只有一件事我觉得遗憾－－把笔下的侦探写成芬兰人。其实我对芬兰人一无所知。我常收到芬兰人来信说主角所说所做的某一点不可思议。芬兰人似乎蛮喜欢看侦探小说。我想是漫漫长冬没有日光的缘故吧。比利时人和罗马尼亚人好象根本不看。我若把他写成比利时人，也许好一点。"她突然打住。 她满面春风。"对不起，我三句话不离本行。这是真正的命案，如果死者不是他们之中的任何一个人杀的，那多妙啊。如果他邀请大家来，然后悄悄自杀，以制造乱局来取乐……" 白罗赞许般点点头："迷人的结局，好利落，好有反讽意味。可是夏塔纳先生不是那种人。他非常爱惜生命。" 奥利佛太太慢慢说："我不觉得他是好人。" 白罗说，"他不好，是的。但他本来活着，现在死了。我曾经跟他说过，我对命案的看法很俗气。我不赞成这种事。" 他又柔声加上一句："所以－－我打算进虎穴。"
CHAPTER 9 Dr. Roberts
CHAPTER 9 Dr. Roberts

"Good-morning, Superintendent Battle."
Dr. Roberts rose from his chair and offered a large pink hand smelling of a mixture of good soap and faint carbolic.
"How are things going?" he went on.
uperintendent Battle glanced round the comfortable consulting-room before swering.
"Well, Dr. Roberts, strictly speaking, they're not going. They're standing still.""There's been nothing much in the papers, I've been glad to see.""Sudden death of the well-known Mr. Shaitana at an evening party in his own house. It's left at that for the moment. We've had the' autopsy--I brought a report of the findings along--thought it might interest you- ""That's very kind of you--it would--h'm--h'm. Yes, very interesting."He handed it back.
"And we've interviewed Mr. Shaitana's solicitor. We know the terms of his will. Nothing of interest there. He has relatives in Syria, it seems. And then, of course, we've been through all his private papers."Was it fancy or did that broad, clean-shaven countenance look a little strained--a little wooden?
"And?" said Dr. Roberts.
"Nothing," said Superintendent Battle, watching him.
There wasn't a sigh of relief. Nothing so blatant as that. But the doctor's figureseemed to relax just a shade more comfortably in his chair.
"And so you've come to me?"
"And so, as you say, I've come to you."
The doctor's eyebrows rose a little and his shrewd eyes looked into Battle's. "Want to go through my private papers---eh?" "That was my idea." "Got a search-warrant?" "No.""Well, you could get one easily enough, I suppose. I'm not going to make difficulties. It's not very pleasant being suspected of murder but I suppose I can't blame you for what's obviously your duty.""Thank you, sir," said Superintendent Battle with real gratitude. "I appreciate your attitude, if I may say so, very much. I hope all the others will be as reasonable, I'm sure.""What can't be cured must be endured," said the doctor good-humouredly. He went on:
"I've finished seeing my patients here. I'm just offon my rounds. I'll leave you my keys and just say a word to my secretary and you can rootle to your heart's content.""That's all very nice and pleasant, I'm sure," said Battle. "I'd like to ask you a few more questions before you go.""About the other night? Really, I told you all I know.""No, not about the other night. About yourself.""Well, man, ask away, what do you want to know?""I'd just like a rough sketch of your career, Dr. Roberts. Birth, marriage, and SO on." "It will get me into practice for Who's Who," said the doctor dryly. 'My career's a perfectly straightforward one. I'm a Shropshire man, born at Ludlow. My father was in practice there. He died when I was fifteen. I was educated at Shrewsbury and went in for medicine like my father before me. I'm a St. Christopher's man but you'll have all the medical details already, I expect." "I looked you up, yes, sir. You an only child or have you any brothers or sisters?" "I'm an only child. Both my parents are dead and I'm unmarried. Will that do to get on with? I came into partnership here with Dr. Emery. He retired about fifteen years ago. Lives in Ireland. I'll give you his address if you like. I live here with a cook, a parlourmaid and a housemaid. My secretary comes in daily. I make a good income and I only kill a reasonable number of my patients. How's that?" Superintendent Battle grinned. "That's fairly comprehensive, Dr. Roberts. I'm glad you've got a sense of humour. Now I'm going to ask you one more thing." "I'm a strictly moral man, superintendent." "Oh, that wasn't my meaning. No, I was just going to ask you if you'd give me the names of four friends--people who've known you intimately for a number of years. Kind of references, if you know what I mean." "Yes, I think so. Let me see now. You'd prefer people who are actually in London now?" "It would make it a bit easier, but it doesn't really matter." The doctor thought for a minute or two, then with his fountain-pen he scribbled four names and addresses on a sheet of paper and pushed it across the desk to Battle. "Will those do? They're the best I can think of on the spur of the moment." Battle read carefully, nodded his head in satisfaction and put the sheet of paper away in an inner pocket. "It's just a question of elimination," he said. "The sooner I can get one person eliminated and go on to the next, the better it is for every one concerned. I've got to make perfectly certain that you weren't on bad terms with the late Mr. Shaitana, that you had no private connections or business dealings with him, that there was no question of his having injured you at any time and your bearing resentment. I may believe you when you say you only knew him slightly--but it isn't a question of my belief. I've got to say I've made sure." "Oh, I understand perfectly. You've got to think everybody's a liar till he's proved he's speaking the truth. Here are my keys, superintendent. That's the drawers of the desk--that's the bureau--that little one's the key of the poison cupboard. Be sure you lock it up again. Perhaps I'd better just have a word with my secretary." He pressed a button on his desk. Almost immediately the door opened and a competent-looking young woman appeared. "You rang, doctor?" "This is Miss Burgess--Superintendent Battle from Scotland Yard." Miss Burgess turned a cool gaze on Battle. It seemed to say:
"Dear me, what sort of an animal is this?"
"I should be glad, Miss Burgess, ffyou will answer any questions Superinten dent Battle may put to you, and give him any help he may need.""Certainly, if you say so, doctor."
"Well," said Roberts, rising, "I'll be off. Did you put the morphia in my case?
I shall need it for the Lockheart case."
He bustled out, still talking, and Miss Burgess followed him.
She returned a minute or two later to say:
"Will you press that button when you want me, Superintendent Battle?"Superintendent Battle thanked her and said he would do so. Then he set towork.
His search was careful and methodical, though he had no great hopes offinding anything of importance• Roberts' ready acquiescence dispelled the chanceof that. Roberts was no fool. He would realise that a search would be bound tocome md he would make provisions accordingly• There was, however, a faintchanfe that Battle might come across a hint of the information he was really after,sincRoberts would not know the real object of his search.
Superintendent Battle opened and shut drawers, rifled pigeon-holes, glancedthrough a cheque-book, estimated the unpaid bills--noted what those same billswere for, scrutinised Roberts' pass-book, ran through his case notes and generallyleft no written document unturned. The result was meagre in the extreme• He nexttook a look through the poison cupboard, noted the wholesale firms with which thedoctor dealt, and the system of checking, relocked the cupboard and passed on tothe bureau. The contents of the latter were'of a more personal nature, but Battlefound nothing germane to his search. He shook his head, sat down in the doctor's • . chair and pressed the desk button.
Miss Burgess appeared with commendable promptitude.
Superintendent Battle asked her politely to be seated and then sat studyingher for a moment, before he decided which way to tackle her. He had sensedimmediately her hostility and he was uncertain whether to provoke her intounguarded speech by increasing that hostility or whether to try a softer method ofapproach.
"I suppose you know what all this is about, Miss Burgess?" he said at last.
"Dr. Roberts told me," said Miss Burgess shortly.
"The whole thing's rather delicate," said Superintendent Battle•"Is it?" said Miss Burgess.
"Well, it's rather a nasty business. Four people are under suspicion and one ofthem must have done it. What I want to know is whether you've ever seen this Mr.
Shaitana?"
"Never."
"Ever heard Dr. Roberts speak of him?"
"Never--no, I am wrong. About a week ago Dr. Roberts told me to enter up adinner appointment in his engagement-book. Mr. Shaitana, 8:15, on the 18th.""And that is the first you ever heard of this Mr. Shaitana?""Yes." "Never seen his name in the papers? He was often in the fashionable news.""I've got better things to do than reading the fashionable news.""I expect you have. Oh, I expect you have," said the superintendent mildly.
"Well,' he went on. "There it is. All four of these people will only admit toknowing Mr. Shaitana slightly. But one of them knew him well enough to kill him.
It's my job to find out which of them it was."There was an unhelpful pause. Miss Burgess seemed quite uninterested in the performance of Superintendent Battle's job. It was her job to obey her employer's orders and sit here listening to what Superintendent Battle chose to say and answer any direct questions he might choose to put to her. "You know, Miss Burgess," the superintendent found it uphill work but he persevered, ,"I doubt if you appreciate half the difficulties of our job. People say things, for instance. Well, we mayn't believe a word of it, but we've got to take notice of it all the same. It's particularly noticeable in a case of this kind. I don't want to say anything against your sex but there's no doubt that a woman, when she's rattled, is apt to lash out with her tongue a bit. She makes unfounded accusations, hints this, that and the other, and rakes up all sorts of old scandals that have probably nothing whatever to do with the ease." "Do you mean," demanded Miss Burgess, "that one of these other people have been saying things against the doctor?" "Not exactly said anything," said Battle cautiously. "But all the same, I'm bound to take notice. Suspicious circumstances about the death of a patient. Probably all a lot of nonsense. I'm ashamed to bother the doctor with it." "I suppose some one's got hold of that story about Mrs. Graves," said Miss Burgess wrathfully. "The way people talk about things they know nothing whatever about is disgraceful. Lots of old ladies get like that they think everybody is poisoning them--their relations and their servants and even their doctors. Mrs. Graves had had three doctors before she came to Dr. Roberts and then when she got the same fancies about him he was quite willing for her to have Dr. Lee instead. It's the only thing to do in these cases, he said. And after Dr. Lee she had Dr. Steele, and then Dr. Farmer--until she died, poor old thing." "You'd be surprised the way the smallest thing starts a story," said Battle. "Whenever a doctor benefits by the death of a patient somebody has something ill-natured to say. And yet why shouldn't a grateful patient leave a little something, or even a big something to her medical attendant." "It's the relations," said Miss Burgess. "I always think there's nothing like death for bringing out the meanness of human nature. Squabbling over who's to have what before the body's cold. Luckily, Dr. Roberts has never had any trouble of that kind. He always says he hopes his patients won't leave him anything. I believe he once had a legacy of fifty pounds and he's had two walking-sticks and a gold watch, but nothing else." "It's a difficult life, that of a professional man," said Battle with a sigh. "He's always open to blackmail. The most innocent occtrrences lend themselves sometimes to a scandalous appearance. A doctor's got to avoid even the appearance of evil--that means he's got to have his wits about him good and sharp." "A lot of what you say is true," said Miss Burgess. "Doctors have a dicult time with hysterical women." "Hysterical women. That's right. I thought, in my own mind, that that was all it amounted to." "I suppose you mean that dreadful Mrs. Craddock?" Battle pretended to think. "Let me see, was it three years ago? No, more." "Four or five, I think. She was a most unbalanced woman! I was glad when she went abroad and so was Dr. Roberts. She told her husband the most frightful lies--they always do, of course. Poor man, he wasn't quite himself he'd begun to be ill. He died of anthrax, you know, an infected shaving brush." "I'd forgotten that," said Battle untruthfully.
 "And then she ent abroad and died not long afterwards. But I always thought she was a nasty type,f woman--man-mad, you know." "I know the kind, said Battle. "Very dangerous, they are. A doctor's got to give them a wide berth. Whereabouts did she die abroad I don't seem to remember." "Egypt, I think it was. She got blood-poisoning--some native infection." "Another thing that must be difficult for a doctor," said Battle, making a conversational leap, "is when he suspects that one of his patients is being poisoned by one of their relatives. What's he to do? He's got to be sure--or else hold his tongue. And if he's done the latter, then it's awkward for him if there's talk of foul play afterwards. I wonder if any case of that kind has ever come Dr. Roberts' way?" "I really don't think it has," said Miss Burgess, considering. "I've never heard of anything like that." "From the statistical point of view, it would be interesting to know how many deaths occur among a doctor's pr,,actice per year. For instance now, you've been with Dr. Roberts some years "Seven." ' "Seven. Well, how many deaths have there been in that time offhand?" "Really, it's difficult tO say." Miss Burgess gave herself up to calculation. She was by now quite thawed and unsuspicious. "Seven, eight--of course, I can't remember exact]y--I shouldn't say more than thirty in the time." "Then I fancy Dr. Roberts must be a better doctor than most," said Battle genially. "I suppose, too, most of his patients are upper-class. They can afford to take care of themselves.' "He's a very popular doctor. He's so good at diagnosis.' Battle sighed and rose to his feet. "I'm afraid I've been wandering from my duty, which is to find out a connection between the doctor and this Mr. Shaitana. You're quite sure he wasn't a patient of the doctor's?" "Quite sure.' "Under another name, perhaps?" Battle handed her a photograph. "Recognise him at all?" "What a very theatrical-looking person. No, I've never seen him here at any time." "Well, that's that." Battle sighed. "I'm much obliged to the doctor, I'm sure, for being so pleasant about everything. Tell him so from me, will you? Tell him I'm passing on to No. 2. Good-bye, Miss Burgess, and thank you for your help." He shook hands and departed. Walking along the street he took a small notebook from his pocket and made a couple of entries in it under the letter R.
Mrs. Graves? unlikely. Mrs. Craddock? No legacies. No wife. (Pity.) Investigate deaths of patients. Difficult.
He closed the book and turned into the Lancaster Gate branch of the London & Wessex Bank. The display of his offleial card brought him to a private interview with the manager. "Good-morning, sir. One of your clients is a Dr. Geoffrey Roberts, I understand.""Quite correct, superinterdent."
"I shall want some information about that gentleman's account going back over a period of years.""I will see what I can do for you."
A complicated half-hour followed. Finally Battle, with a sigh, tucked away a sheet of pencilled figures.
"Got what you want?" inquired the bank manager curiously.
"No, I haven't. Not one suggestive lead. Thank you all the same."At the same moment, Dr. Ro!erts, washing his hands in his consulting-room, said over his shoulder to Miss Burgess:
"What about our stolid sleuth, eh? Did he turn the place upside down and you inside out?""He didn't get much out of me, I can tell you," said Miss Burgess, setting her lips tightly.
"My dear girl, no need to be an oyster. I told you to tell him all he wanted to know. What did he want to ktow, by the way?""Oh, he kept harping oh your knowing that man Shaitana--suggested even that he might have come her as a patient under a different name. He showed me his photograph. Such a theatrical-looking man!""Shaitana? Oh, yes, fond of posing as a modern Mephistopheles. It went down rather well on the whole. What else did Battle ask you?""Really nothing very much. Except---oh, yes somebody had been telling him some absurd nonsense about Mrs. Graves--you know the way she used to go on.""Graves? Graves? Oh, ys, old Mrs. Graves! That's rather funny!" The doctor laughed with considerable arusement. "That's really very funny indeed."And in high good humohr he went in to lunch.
第九章 罗勃兹医生
第九章 罗勃兹医生

"早安，巴特探长。" 罗勃兹医生由椅子上站起来，伸出带有肥皂和石碳酸气味的粉红大手。 "查案查得如何？"他说。 巴特探长环顾舒服的诊疗室，然后才回答。 "噢，罗勃兹医生，严格说来，一点进展够没有。案情胶着着。" "报上没登多少，我很高兴。" "'夏塔纳先生在自己家宴客，突然死亡'。暂时就只登这些，我们验过尸－－我带来一份查验报告－－你也许有兴趣－－" "多谢你的好意；我会感兴趣的。嗯－－第三根颈椎骨……等等。是的，很有趣。" 他把报告交回来。 "我们见过夏塔纳先生的律师，知道他遗嘱的内容。没什么吸引人的地方。他好象有亲戚在叙利亚。当然啦，我们已查过他所有的私人文件。" 是幻想呢，还是（医生）那刮得干干净净的宽脸显得有点紧张－－有点木然？ "结果呢？"罗勃兹医生问道。 巴特探长望着他说："没什么。" 对方并未舒一口气－－没有那么嚣张。不过医生坐在椅子上，形体似乎放松了一些，比原先舒服。 "所以你来找我？" "你说得不错，所以我来找你。" 医生的眉毛略略上扬，精明的研究盯着巴特的眸子。 "想查我的私人文件－－呃？" "我正是这么想。" "有没有搜索状？" "没有。" "算啦，我想你可疑轻易弄到一张。我不刁难。沾上谋杀的嫌疑并不愉快，但你是职责所在，我看我也不能怪你。" 巴特探长真心感谢说："谢谢你，先生。我不妨说，我非常激赏你的态度。但愿其它的人也同样讲理。" "没有办法的事情只好忍耐，"医生和颜悦色说。 他又说了一番话。"我在这边的诊疗工作已经结束了。我正要出去巡视。我把钥匙留给你，只要跟秘书说一声，你就可以翻个过瘾。" 巴特说，"我相信这样很方便很愉快。你离开之前，我想再问你几句话。" "那天晚上的事？真的，我知道的全告诉你了。" "不，不谈那天晚上。谈谈你自己。" "好，快问吧。你想知道什么？" "罗勃兹医生，我只想请你概述你的生平－－身世、婚姻……等等。" 医生淡然说："这可以让我练习练习，以备登上'现在名人录'。我的一生平平坦坦。我是许洛普郡人，生在陆德罗。家父在那边行医。我十五岁那年，他去世了。我在修斯伯瑞教育，跟先父一样一样从事医疗工作。我的守护神是圣克里斯多夫－－不过，我想你已经掌有一切的医疗细节。" "我查过，是的，先生。你是独生子，抑或有兄弟姐妹？" "我是独生子。父母已过世，我没有结婚。这对查案有帮助吗？我来这边跟爱默瑞医生合股。他大约十五年前退休，住在爱尔兰。你若有兴趣，我可以把他的地址抄给你。我跟一名厨师、一名使女和一名女佣住在这儿。秘书白天来。我的收入不错，我医死过的病人数目相当合理。怎么样？" 巴特露齿一笑。"罗勃兹医生，这番话包容相当广。我庆幸你有幽默感。现在我再问你一个问题。" "探长，我是个严守道德的人。" "噢，我不是这个意思。不，我只是想请你说出四位熟识多年的老友的姓名，做为参考，你大概知道我的意思吧？" "是的，我认为如此。现在我想想看。你宁可要目前住在伦敦的人吧？" "这样比较好找，但是没有多大的关系。" 医生想了一两分钟，以自来水笔在一张纸上潦潦草草写出四个人名地址，推到书桌对面给巴特。 "这些可以吧？我一时只想起他们几个合适的人。" 巴特仔细看一遍，点头表示满意，把纸张收进内袋里。 他说："这只是删除的问题。我能愈早删除一个人，继续查下一位，对于每个相关的人也就愈好。我必须确定你和已故的夏塔纳没有过节，你跟他没有私密的交情或生意来往，他不可能伤害过你，你也不可能怀恨他。你说你只略微认识他，我也许相信，不过这不是我信不信的问题，我得完全确定才行。" "噢，我百分之百了解。一个人尚未证明他说的是实话，你只得相信他撒谎，探长，这是我的钥匙。这是书桌抽屉的－－这是写字台的－－这根小的是毒药橱的钥匙。事后千万要锁好。我还是跟秘书说一声好了。"他压压书桌上的按钮。 门立刻开了，一位看来很能干的少妇出现在门口。"是你按铃，医生？" "这位是波吉斯小姐，这是苏格兰场的巴特探长。" 波吉斯小姐冷冷望着巴特，仿佛说："老天爷，这是什么样的怪物？" "波吉斯小姐，我希望你肯回答巴特探长的问题，给予他必要的协助。" "医生，既然你这么说，没问题。" 罗勃兹起立说："好啦，我要走了。你有没有把吗啡放进我的公事包内？治那个姓洛克哈特的病人需要那个－－" 他一面说话一面忙忙躁躁走出去，波吉斯跟着他。过了一两分钟，她回来说："巴特探长，你要找我的时候，麻烦你按铃好吗？" 巴特探长道谢并答应了。接着他开始办事。 他搜得很详细，有条有理，倒不奢望能找到重要的东西。罗勃兹乐意顺从，使他自知无此机会。罗勃兹不是傻瓜。他知道警方迟早会来搜索，所以事先准备好了。不过，罗勃兹不知道巴特探长搜查的真正的目标，所以巴特仍有一丝找到线索的希望。 巴特探长开抽屉关抽屉，搜文件架，翻阅支票簿，估量未付钱的药丸－－记下这些药丸的用途，细看罗勃兹的存折，看看他的病例纪录，什么文件都翻过了，收获贫乏得很。接着他查毒药柜，记下医生买药的批发和核计法，重新锁好药橱，就转而查写字台。里面的内容较具私人特性，不过巴特找不到他想搜的东西。他摇摇头，坐在医生的椅子上，按按书桌的电铃。 波吉斯小姐马上露面了。 巴特探长客客气气请她坐下，打量了她一会，才决定要以什么方式来套她的话。他立刻感觉出她的敌意。一时不知道该加强那种敌视感，以便激她说出未设防的话，还是用比较柔和的方法。 他终于说："波吉斯小姐，我猜你知道我来搜查的理由。" "罗勃兹医生跟我说过了，"波吉斯小姐简慢地说。 巴特探长说，"事情很伤脑筋。" "是吗？"波吉斯小姐说。 "嗯，这是相当讨厌分一件事。四个人有嫌疑，一定是其中一位干的。我想知道你有没有见过这位夏塔纳先生？" "从来没见过。" "有没有听罗勃兹医生谈起过他？" "没有－－不，我记错了。大约一周以前，罗勃兹医生叫我在他的约会簿上纪录某次晚宴的时间。夏塔纳先生，十八日八点十五分。" "那是你第一次听到夏塔纳先生的大名？" "是的。" "没在报上看过他的名字？他常常出现在高等社交新闻里。" "我有正经事可做，才不去看什么高等社交新闻呢。" 探长柔声说："我巴望你看。噢，我巴望你看。" 他继续说："噢，是这样。四个人当然都自称和夏塔纳先生只略微认识。可是其中一位跟他有进一步的交情，才会杀他。我的任务就是要查出是哪一位。" 谈话无可奈何中断片刻。波吉斯小姐对巴特探长查案的表现似乎不感兴趣。她的任务是服从雇主的命令，坐在这儿听巴特探长说话，答复他提出的直接问题。 巴特探长发现问话很吃力，但是他坚忍不拔："你知道，波吉斯小姐，我想你不太了解我们办案的困难。譬如民众会有流言。我们也许一句都不信，可是仍需要注意它。这类的案件尤其得注意。我不想批评女性，不过女人激动起来真的会乱嚼舌根。她随便诬赖人，东暗示西暗示，挖出各种可能和案件无关的旧是非。" 波吉斯小姐问道："你是说有人讲医生的坏话？"  巴特小心翼翼说："也不是真的说什么啦。不过我照样得注意。病人死亡的情况可疑之类的。也许全是胡扯。为次打扰医生，真不好意思。" 波吉斯小姐气冲冲说，"我猜有人听到葛拉瓦斯太太的故事。大家乱谈自己不知道的事情，真可耻。好多老太太都这样；以为都想毒死她们－－亲戚啦、佣人啦，甚至医生都如此。葛拉瓦斯太太换了三个医生才来找罗勃兹医师，后来她对他又产生同类的幻想，他就任她改聘李医师。他说此类情形只有这个办法。找过李医师后，她又换史提而医师，再换法莫医师－－知道老死，可怜的老太婆。" 巴特说："你绝对想不到，再小的事情都会引发一些闲话。病人的死亡，医生若得到好处，别人就会说得很恶毒。可是感恩的病人留点小东西或者一大笔财物给她的医事人员，又有什么不妥呢？" 波吉斯小姐说："是亲戚。我总认为死亡最能引出人性卑鄙的一面。死者尸骨未寒，大家就为分产而吵架。幸亏罗勃兹医生没遭遇过这种麻烦。他老说他希望病人别留遗物给他。他好象得过一笔五十英镑的遗产，还得过两根拐杖和一个金表，此外就没有了。" 巴特叹了口气说，"专业人员的日子不好过。容易遭到勒索。有时候再无辜的事件都会引发风风雨雨的幻觉。只要事情看来不对劲，医生就得避免；这表示他随时要有完美而敏锐的机智。" 波吉斯小姐说，"你的话有道理。医生最难应付神经质的女人。" "神经质的女人。对。我也认为一切只是如此罢了。" "我猜你是指可怕的克拉多克太太吧？" 巴特假装思考。 "我看看，是三年前吧？不，不只。" "我想有四五年了。她心理不正常！她出国的时候，我好高兴，罗勃兹医生也很高兴。她对她丈夫说了些可怕的谎言；当然啦，她们总是这样。可怜的汉子，他简直变了一个人；开始生病。你知道，他患碳疽热死掉了，是刮胡刷沾染细菌造成的。" "这我倒忘了，"巴特撒谎说。 "后来她出国，过不久也死了。不过我始终觉得她是下流女人－－为男人着迷，你知道。"  巴特说，"我知道那种人。很危险，真的。医生得躲开她们。她死在外国的什么地方－－我好象记得－－" "我想是埃及吧。她患了血毒－－一种土著传染病。"  巴特突然转个话锋说，"还有一件事医生也很为难，当他疑心某一个病人被亲戚毒死的时候，他怎么办？他必须十分肯定－－否则就闭嘴，事后万一传出有问题，他便十分尴尬了。不知道罗勃兹医生有没有遇到过这种情形？" 波吉斯小姐想了一下说："我想没有，我没听过这种事。" "由统计学观点来说，查查一个医生行医一年死掉多少病人必定很有趣。譬如你已经跟罗勃兹医生共事过若干年－－" "七年。" "七年。噢，这段时间大约有多少人死掉？" "很难说，真的。"波吉斯小姐计算了一下。现在她的敌意已经消失了，不再存有戒心。"七个、八个－－当然我记不清楚－－我想这段时间不会超过三十个。" 巴特和蔼地说："那我想罗勃兹医生可能比大多数医生高明。我猜他的病人大多是高等人物吧。他们有钱照顾自己。" "他是颇受欢迎的医生，擅于诊断。" 巴特叹口气站起来。"我的任务是要查医生和夏塔纳先生的关系，我好象离题太远了。你能确定他不是罗勃兹医生的病人？" "十分肯定。" "会不会用另一个名字来就医？"巴特递了一张照片给她。"认不认识他？" "好一个外表象演戏的人！不，我在这儿从来没见过他。" 巴特叹口气说，"好吧，就这样啦。我真感谢医生在各方面都这么爽快。代我转达这句话，好不好？告诉他我要去找下一个人了。再见，波吉斯小姐，多谢你的帮忙。" 他握手告别；沿着大街往前走，由口袋拿出一本小笔记簿，在"罗"字下面记了几句话。  葛拉瓦斯太太？不大可能。 克拉多克太太？ 没有遗产。 没有太太（可惜）。 调查病人的死因，很困难。 他合上小本子，转入"伦敦及威瑟银行"的"葛罗瑟斯特城门分行"。 他出示官方名片，得以私下和经理密谈。 "早安，先生。我知道杰奥福瑞•罗勃兹是你们的客户。" "不错，探长。" "我要查此人几年的帐目纪录。" "我看能不能帮你忙。" 此后半个钟头忙极了。最后巴特叹口气，收起一张铅笔数字表。 银行经理好奇地问他："有没有找到你要的资料？" "不，没有。没什么可参考的。不过，我还是谢谢你。" 这时候，罗勃兹医生在诊疗室洗手，回头对波吉斯小姐说："我们的木头侦探如何，呃？他有没有把这儿翻得乱七八糟，把你搅得头昏脑胀。" 波吉斯小姐说："我告诉你，他没从我这儿问出多少话。"并绷紧嘴唇。 "好小姐，用不着缄默。我叫你把他想知道的事情全部告诉他。对了，他问些什么？" "噢，他一直说你认识夏塔纳先生－－甚至说他可能用别的名字来这儿看过病。他拿那人的照片给我看。好一个外表象演戏的男人！" "夏塔纳？噢，是的，喜欢摆出现代邪魔的姿态。大家蛮相信的。巴特还问你什么？" "其实没问多少。除了－－喔，是的，有如跟他提过葛拉瓦斯太太的某些胡言乱语－－你知道她的作风嘛。" "葛拉瓦斯？葛拉瓦斯？噢，是的，葛拉瓦斯老太太！真滑稽！"医生觉得好玩，不禁大笑。"真的很滑稽。" 他心情好极了，走进去吃午餐。
CHAPTER 10 Dr. Roberts (continued)
CHAPTER 10
Dr. Roberts (continued)
Superintendent Battle was ltmching with M. Hercule Poirot.
The former looked downcast, the latter sympathetic.
"Your morning, then, has not been entirely successful," said Poirot thoughtfully.
Battle shook his head.
"It's going to be uphill work, M. Poirot."
"What do you think of him?"
"Of the doctor? Well, frankly, I think Shaitana was right. He's a killer. Reminds me of Westaway. And of that lawyer chap in Norfolk. Same hearty, self-confident manner. Same /)opularity. Both of them were clever devils--so's Roberts. All the same, it doesn't follow that Roberts killed Shaitana--and as a matter of fact I don't think he did. He'd know the risk too well better than a layman would--that Shaitaaa might wake and cry out. No, I don't think Roberts murdered him.""But you think he has murdered some one?"
"Possibly quite a lot of people. Westaway had. But it's going to be hard to get at. I've looked over his bank account--nothing suspicious there--no large sums suddenly. At any rate, in the last seven years he's not had any legacy from a patient. That wipes out murder for direct gain. He's never married--that's a pity--so ideally simple for a doctor to kill his own wife. He's well-to-do, but then he's got a thriving practice among well-to-do people.""In fact he. appears to lead a thoroughly blameless life--and perhaps does doSO."
"Maybe. But I prefer to believe the worst."
He went on:
"There's the hint of a scandal over a woman---one of his patients--name of Craddock. That's worth looking up, I think. I'll get some one on to that straightaway. Woman actually died out in Egypt of some local disease, so I don'tthink there's anything in that but it might throw a light on his general characterand morals."
"Was there a husband?"
"Yes. Husband died of anthrax."
"Anthrax?"
"Yes, there were a lot of cheap shaving brushes on the market just then--someof them infected. There was a regular scandal about it.""Convenient," suggested Poirot.
"That's what I thought. If her husband were threatening to kick up a row But there, it's all conjecture. We haven't a leg to stand upon.""Courage, my friend. I know your patience. In the end, you will have perhaps as many legs as a centipede.""And fall into the ditch as a result of thinking about them," grinned Battle.
Then he asked curiously:
"What about you, M. Poirot? Going to take a hand?""I too, might call on Dr. Roberts."
"Two of us in one day. That ought to put the wind up him.""Oh, I shall be very discreet. I shall not inquire into his past life.""I'd like to know just exactly what line you'll take," said Battle curiously, "but don't tell me unless you want to.""Du tout--du tout. I am most willing. I shall talk a little of bridge, that is all." "Bridge again. You harp on that, don't you, M. Poirot?" "I find the subject very useful.""Well, every man to his taste. I don't deal much in these fancy approaches. They don't suit my style.""What is your style, superintendent?"
The superintendent met the twinkle in Poirot's eye with an answering twinkle in his own.
"A straightforward, honest, zealous officer doing his duty in the most laborious manner--that's my style. No frills. No fancy work. Just honest perspiration. Stolidand a bit stupid--that's my ticket."
Poirot raised his glass.
"To our respective methodsand may success crown our joint efforts.""I expect Colonel Race may get us something worth having about Despard," said Battle. "He's got a good many sources of information.""And Mrs. Oliver?"
"Bit of a toss-up there. I rather like that woman. Talks a lot of nonsense, but she's a sport. And women get to know things about other women that men can't get at. She may spot something useful." They separated. Battle went back to Scotland Yard to issue instructions for certain lines to be followed up. Poirot betook himself to 200 Gloucester Terrace. Dr. Roberts' eyebrows rose comically as he greeted his guest. "Two sleuths in one day," he asked. "Handcuffs by this evening, I suppose."Poirot smiled. "I can assure you, Dr. Roberts, that my attentions are being equally divided between all four of you." "That's something to be thankful for, at all events. Smoke?" "If you permit, I prefer my own." Poirot lighted one of his tiny Russian cigarettes. "Well, what can I do for you?" asked Roberts. Poirot was silent for a minute or two puffing, then he said:
"Are you a keen observer of human nature, doctor?""I don't know. I suppose I am. A doctor has to be." "That was exactly my reasoning. I said to myself, 'A doctor has always to be studying his patients--their expressions, their colour, how fast they breathe, any signs of restlessness--a doctor notices these things automatically almost without noticing he notices! Dr. Roberts is the man to help me.'" "I'm willing enough to help. What's the trouble?" Poirot produced from a neat little pocket-case three carefully folded bridge scores. "These are the first three rubbers the other evening," he explained. "Here is the first one--in Miss Meredith's handwriting. Now can you tell me with this to refresh your memory--exactly what the calling was and how each hand went?" Roberts stared at him in astonishment. "You're joking, M. Poirot. How can I possibly remember?" "Can't you? I should be so very grateful if you could. Take this first rubber. The first game must have resulted in a game call in hearts or spades, or else one or other side must have gone down fifty." "Let me seethat was the first hand. Yes, I think they went out in spades.""And the next hand?" "I suppose one or other of us went down fifty--but I can't remember which or what it was in. Really, M. Poirot, you can hardly expect me to do so." "Can't you remember any of the calling or the hands?" "I got a grand slam--I remember that. It was doubled too. And I also remember going down a nasty smack--playing three no trumps, I think it was--went down a packet. But that was later on." "Do you remember with whom you were playing?" "Mrs. Lorrimer. She looked a bit grim, I remember. Didn't like my overcalling, I expect." "And you can't remember any other of the hands or the calling?" Roberts laughed. "My dear M. Poirot, did you really expect I could. First there was the murder---enough to drive the most spectacular hands out of one's mind and in addition I've played at least half a dozen rubbers since then."Poirot sat looking rather crestfallen.
"I'm sorry," said Roberts. "It does not matter very much," said Poirot slowly. "I hoped that you might remember one or two, at least, of the hands, because I thought they might be valuable landmarks in remembering other things." "What other things?" "Well, you might have noticed, for instance, that your partner made a mess of playing a perfectly simple no trumper, or that an opponent, say, presented you with a couple of unexpected,rieks by failing to lead an obvious card." Dr. Roberts became suddenly serious. He leaned forward in his chair. "Ah," he said. "Now I see what you're driving at. Forgive me. I thought at first you were talking pure nonsense. You mean that the murder--the successful accomplishment of the murder--might have made a definite difference in the guilty party's play?" Poirot nodded. "You have seized the idea correctly. It would be a clue of the first excellence if you had been four players who knew each other's game well. A variation, a sudden lack of brilliance, a missed oppOrtunity--that would have been immediately noticed. Unluckily, you were all strangers to each other. Variation in play would not be so noticeable. But think, M. le docteur, I beg of you to think. Do you remember any inequalities--any sudden glaring mistakes--in the play of any one?" There was silence for a minute or two, then Dr. Roberts shook his head. "It's no good. I can't help you," he said frankly. "I simply don't remember. All I can tell you is what I told you before: Mrs. Lorrimer is a first-class player--she never made a slip that I noticed. She was brilliant from start to finish. Despard's play was uniformly good too. Rather a conventional player--that is, his bidding is strictly conventional. He never steps outside the rules. Won't take a long chance. Miss Meredith "He hesitated. "Yes? Miss Meredith?" Poirot prompted him. "She did make mistakes--once or twiceI remember--towards the end of the evening, but that may simply have been because she was tired--not being a very experienced player. Her hand shook, too " He stopped.
"When did her hand shake?"
"When was it now? I can't remember I think she was just nervous. M. Poirot, you're making me imagine things." "I apologise. There is another point on which I seek your help." "Yes?" Poirot said slowly: "It is difficult. I do not, you see, wish to ask you a leading question. If I say, did you notice so and so--well, I have put the thing into your head. Your answer will not be so valuable. Let me try to get at the matter another way. If you will be so kind, Dr. Roberts, describe to me the contents of the room in which you played." Roberts looked thoroughly astonished. "The contents of the room?" "If you will be so good." "My dear fellow, I simply don't know where to begin." "Begin anywhere you choose." "Well, there was a good deal of furniturc " "Non, non, non, be precise, I pray of you."Dr. Roberts sighed. He began facetiously after the manner of an auctioneer. "One large settee upholstered in ivory brocadeone ditto in green ditto--four or five large chairs. Eight or nine Persian rugs--a set of twelve small giltEmpire chairs. William and Mary bureau. (I feel just like an auctioneer's clerk.)Very beautiful Chinese cabinet. Grand piano. There was other furniture but I'mafraid I didn't notice it. Six first-class Japanese prints. Two Chinese pictures onlooking-glass. Five or six very beautiful snuff-boxes. Some Japanese ivory netsukefigures on a table by themselves. Some old silver--Charles I. tazzas, I think. Oneor two pieces of Battersea enamel--"
"Bravo, bravo!" Poirot applauded.
"A couple of old English slipware birds--and, I think, a Ralph Wood figure. Then there was some Eastern stuff--intricate silver work. Some jewellery, I don't know much about that. Some Chelsea birds, I remember. Oh, and some miniatures in a case-pretty good ones, I fancy. That's not all by a long way--but it's all I can think of for the minute.""It is magnificent," said Poirot with due appreciation. "You have the true observer's eye."The doctor asked curiously:
"Have I included the object you had in mind?""That is the interesting thing about it,"said Poirot. "If you had mentioned the object I had in mind it would have been extremely surprising to me. As I thought,you would not mention it."
"Why?"
Poirot twinkled.
"Perhaps--because it was not there to mention."Roberts stared.
"That seems to remind me of something."
"It reminds you of Sherlock Holmes, does it not? The curious incident of the dog in the night. The dog did not howl in the night. That is the curious thing! Ah, well, I am not above stealing the tricks of others.""Do you know, M. Poirot, I am completely at sea as to what you are driving"That is excellent, that. In confidence, that is how I get my little effects."Then, as Dr. Roberts still looked rather dazed, Poirot said with a smile as he rose to his feet:
"You may at least comprehend this, what you have told me is going to be veryhelpful to me in my next interview."
The doctor rose also.
"I can't see how, but I'll take your work for it," he said.
They shook hands.
Poirot went down the steps of the doctor's house, and hailed a passing taxi. "111 Cheyne Lane, Chelsea," he told the driver.
第十章 罗勃兹医生（继续）
第十章 罗勃兹医生（继续）

巴特探长陪赫邱里•白罗吃午餐。巴特显得很沮丧，白罗十分同情。 白罗体贴地说，"那你早上办事不怎么成功喽。" 巴特摇摇头。 "白罗先生，工作会很吃力。" "你对他有什么看法？" "医生？噢，坦白说，我觉得夏塔纳猜得不错。他是杀手。叫我想起卫斯塔卫，也想起诺佛勃兹那个当律师的家伙。同样有一副恳切自信的态度。同样受欢迎。两个人都是聪明的魔鬼－－罗勃兹亦然。但是罗勃兹不见得会杀夏塔纳，事实上我不认为是他干的。他一定知道－－比外行人更知道－－夏塔纳可能会惊醒并叫出来。不，我不认为是罗勃兹傻的。" "可是你认为他曾杀过人？" "也许杀过好些人哩。卫斯塔卫就是如此。不过很难查。我查过他的银行帐目－－没什么可疑的地方－－没有大笔钱突然存进来。总之最近七年他没有得过病人的遗产。这一来就去除了谋财杀人的可能性。他从未结婚－－真可惜－－医生杀妻委实太简单了。他相当富裕，不过他常治疗有钱人，业务上挺发达的。" "事实上他的生活似乎无懈可击－－说不定真是如此。" "也许吧。但我宁愿相信最坏的一面。" 他继续说："他和一个姓克拉多克的女病人约略传出过丑闻。我认为知道调查。我立刻叫人去查这件事。女人在埃及患地方性的疾病去世，所以我想没什么问题－－不过可由此看清他的一般个性和品德。" "对方有没有丈夫？" "有。丈夫患碳疽热死掉。" "碳疽热？" "是的，当时市面上有不少廉价的刮胡刷－－有些感染了细菌。此事曾带来风风雨雨。" "很方便，"白罗暗示说。 "我就是这么想。如果她丈夫威吓要抖出来－－不过这全是猜测。我们一点证据都没有。"  "朋友，别泄气。我知道你有耐心。最后你也许能找到许多许多证据，多得象蜈蚣脚。" 巴特裂嘴一笑说，"想到自己有那么多脚，会摔进阴沟去。" 然后他好奇地问道："你呢，白罗先生？要不要参加？" "我大概也会去拜访罗勃兹医生。" "我们俩同一天去，必能吓倒他。" "噢，我会非常小心。我不问他过去的生活。" 巴特好奇地说："我想知道你采取什么路线。不过你若不想告诉我就别说好了。" "才不呢－－才不呢。我乐意告诉你。我要谈点桥牌的事情，没什么别的。" "又是桥牌。白罗先生，你反复谈这个。" "我觉得这个话题很有用。" "好吧，人各有所好。我不擅于这种奇异的门道。不合我的作风。" "探长，你的作风是什么？" 探长看白罗眨眼，也眨眨眼睛。 "坦率、正直、热诚的警官以最辛苦的方式来执行任务－－这就是我的作风。不装腔作势。不胡思乱想。只是诚诚实实流汗。钝钝的，有点笨－－那就是我的法宝。" 白罗举起玻璃杯。"为我们各别的方法干杯－－愿我们共同努力能有成果。" 巴特说："我想瑞斯上校能为我们找些德斯帕的宝贵资料。他的情报来源很广喔。" "奥利佛太太呢？" "同样有希望。我相当喜欢那个女人。说了不少废话，人却很有趣。女人查女人，可以得知男人查不到的资料。她说不定会发觉有用的东西。" 他们就此分手。巴特回苏格兰场去指挥部下采取某些措施。白罗赶往葛罗瑟斯特高台街两百号。 罗勃兹医生问候客人，两道眉毛扬得好滑稽。他问道："一天来两个侦探？我猜晚上就会带手铐来。" 白罗笑一笑。 "罗勃兹医生，我向你保证，我的注意力平等分摊在你们四个人身上。" "这至少值得感激。抽烟吧？" "你若不反对，我宁可抽自己的。" 白罗点上他的一根小俄国香烟。 "好啦，我能帮什么忙吗？"罗勃兹问道。 白罗闷声抽了一两分钟的烟，然后说："医生，你对人性的观察敏锐不敏锐？" "我不知道。大概算敏锐吧。医生必须如此。" "我正是这么推想的。我自忖道：'医生随时得研究病人－－他们的表情啦、他们的气色啦、他们呼吸的快慢啦、心绪不宁的征兆啦；医生自动注意这些事情，根本没发现自己正注意着！罗勃兹医生最能帮助我。'" "我乐意帮忙。问题在哪里？" 白罗由一个干净的小口袋抽出三张仔细折好的桥牌计分纸。 他解释说："这是那天晚上的头三盘成绩。头一张在这儿，是梅瑞迪斯小姐写的。你凭这张纸来重温旧事，能不能精确告诉我每圈叫的是什么牌，打的是什么牌？" 罗勃兹讶然瞪着他。"白罗先生，你开玩笑嘛。我怎么可能记得？" "你想不起来？你若能想起来，我将十分感激。就说第一盘吧。首局一定是叫红心或黑桃得逞，否则定有某一方落败五十点。" "我看看－－这是第一圈牌。是的，我想是以黑桃当王牌。" "下一圈呢？" "我猜我们有一方落败五十点－－但我想不起是什么牌了。白罗先生，真的，你不能指望我记得。" "你想不起某一圈叫的是日冕牌，打牌的经过如何？" "我得过一次大满贯－－我记得。而且是加倍的。我还记得痛栽过一次，打的好象是'无王３'－－落败不少。不过那是后来的事。" "你记不记得是跟谁同组？" "洛瑞玛太太。我记得她脸色阴森森。大概是不喜欢我叫价太高吧。" "其它的叫价和牌局你都想不起来？"  罗勃兹大笑。 "亲爱的白罗先生，你真指望我记得？首先，那儿出了命案－－能叫人忘掉最壮观的牌－－而且后来我至少打过十二盘桥牌。" 白罗看来相当沮丧。 "对不起，"罗勃兹说。 白罗慢慢说："没有太大关系。我希望你至少记得一两圈牌，可当做有用的界标，以回忆别的事情。" "什么别的事情？" "噢，譬如你大概记得，合伙人把简单的'无王'牌打得一团糟，或者对手未能出一张明显的牌，使你意外赢了两圈……之类的。" 罗勃兹医生突然认真起来。他坐在椅子上，身子往前倾。他说："啊，现在我知道你的打算了。请原谅。起先我以为你是胡扯。你是说命案－－凶手杀人成功－－打牌的心情也许会不一样？" 白罗点点头。"你完全弄明白了。如果你们四位牌友熟知对方的牌路，这将是上好的线索。某人变了，突然不再机灵，错过了好机会－－牌友一定立刻就会发觉。不巧你们彼此都很陌生，牌路的变化比较看不出来。不过医师先生，我求您想一想。你记不记得谁的牌路有打变化－－突来的明显错误。" 现场沉默了一两分钟，接着罗勃兹医师摇摇头。他坦白说："没有用，我帮不上忙。我硬是想不起来。我能告诉你的话上回就告诉你了。洛瑞玛太太是一流牌手－－我没发现她失误过。她从头到尾都棒极了。德斯帕的牌也一直打得很好。算是相当保守的牌友－－也就是说，他叫牌严守老套；从不逾越规则，不敢冒大险。梅瑞迪斯小姐－－"他犹豫不决。 "嗯？梅瑞迪斯小姐？"白罗催他。 "我记得她犯过一两次错误－－在那天晚上的最后一段时间。不过也许是因为她打牌没经验，累了吧。她的手也发抖了－－"他停下来。 "她的手什么时候发抖？" "什么时候？我记不得了－－我想她只是紧张。白罗先生，你是逼我瞎猜想。" "抱歉。还有一点我要你帮忙。" "嗯？" 白罗慢慢说："很难。你知道，我不想问你引导性的问题。我若问你注意到什么和什么没有－－咦，我等于把印象灌到你的脑子里，你的答案就没有价值了。我来换一个方法查这件事吧。罗勃兹医生，能不能麻烦你描述玩牌那个房间的内容。" 罗勃兹医生显得十分惊讶。 "房间的内容？" "麻烦你。" "朋友，我简直不知道要从何说起。" "任选一个地方开始呀。" "好，家俱很多－－" "不，不，不，要说清楚，拜托。" 罗勃兹医生叹了一口气。他学拍卖家用的滑稽口吻说话。 "一张象牙色锦缎装潢的大型长沙发－－一张绿锦缎装潢的同型沙发－－四张或五张大椅子。八张或九张波斯地毯－－一套十二张的镀金小皇帝椅。威廉和玛丽写字台。我简直象拍卖家的雇员了。很美的中国饰架。大钢琴。还有别的家俱，不过我恐怕没有注意到。六张一流的日本版画。两幅印在镜子上的中国画。五个或六个非常漂亮的鼻烟盒。几个日本象牙坠子人像单独放在一张茶几上。几件旧银器－－我想是'查理一世'时代的杯子吧。一两件巴特西亚珐琅－－" "了不起－－了不起－－"白罗喝采说。 "两只英国旧陶土鸟儿－－我想还有一座拉夫•伍德像。有几件东方货－－复杂的银制品。一些首饰，这方面我不太懂。我记得有几只契而西小鸟。噢，一个相框装着彩饰画－－我猜相当不错。还有别的，但是我目前只想得起这些。" 白罗激赏道："顶刮刮。你具有观察家的锐眼。" 医生好奇问道："我有没有说出你心里想的东西？" 白罗说："这是最有趣的一点。你如果提到我心里想的东西，那我会吓一跳哩。我料想得不错，你不可能提起。" "为什么？" 白罗眨眨眼。 "也许－－也许因为东西不在那儿供人提起吧。" 罗勃兹瞪大了眼睛。 "这叫我想起一件事。" "想起福尔摩斯对不对？奇怪的夜犬事件。夜里狗没有叫。这就怪啦！啊，算了，我难免会偷偷别人的把戏。" "白罗先生，你知不知道，我完全不懂你的用意，" "那好极了。说句机密话，我的一些小效果就是这么得来的。" 罗勃兹医生仍然显得茫茫然，白罗一面站起身一面含笑说："你至少可了解一点。你跟我说的话对于我访问下一个人非常有帮助。" 医生也站起来，他说："我不懂如何帮法，但是我听信你的话。" 他们握握手。 白罗走下医生家的台阶，叫了一辆过路的计程车。 他告诉司机："契而西自治镇奇尼巷一一一号。"
CHAPTER 11 Mrs. Lorrimer
CHAPTER 11 Mrs. Lorrimer
111 Cheyne Lane was a small house of very neat and trim appearance standing in a quiet street. The door was painted black and the steps were particularly well whitened, the brass of the knocker and handle gleamed in the afternoon sun.
The door was opened by an elderly parlourmaid with an immaculate white capand apron.
In answer to Poirot's inquiry she said that her mistress was at home.
She preceded him up the narrow staircase.
"What name, sir?"
"M. Hercule Poirot."
He was ushered into a drawing-room of the usual L shape. Poirot looked abouthim, noting details. Good furniture, well polished, of the old family type. Shinychintz on the chairs and settees. A few silver photograph frames about in the old fashioned manner. Otherwise an agreeable amount of spe and light, and somereally beautiful chrysanthemums arranged in a tallMrs. Lorrimer came forward to meet him. She shook hands without showingany particular surprise at seeing him, indicated a chair, took one herself andremarked favourably on the weather.
There was a pause.
"I hope, Madame," said Hercule Poirot, "that you will forgive this visit."Looking directly at him, Mrs. Lorrimer asked:
"Is this a professional visit?"
"I confess it."
"You realise, I suppose, M0 Poirot, that though I shall naturally giveSuperintendent Battle and the official police any information and help they mayrequire, I am by no means bound to do the same for any unofficial investigator?""I am quite aware of that fact, Madame. If you show me the door, me, I marchto that door with complete submission."
Mrs. Lorrimer smiled very slightly.
"I am not yet prepared to go to those extremes, M. Poirot, I can give you tenminutes. At the end of that time I have to go out to a bridge party.""Ten minutes will be ample for my purpose. I want you to describe to me,madame, the room in which you played bridge the other evening--the room inwhich Mr. Shaitana was killed."
Mrs. Lorrimer's eyebrows rose.
"What an extraordinary questionl I do not see the point of it.""Madame, if when you were playing bridge, some one were to say to you--why do you play that ace or why do you put on the knave that is taken by the queenand not the king which would take the trick? If people were to ask you suchquestions, the answers would be rather long and tedious, would they not?"Mrs. Lorrimer smiled slightly.
"Meaning that in this game you are the expert and I am the novice. Verywell." She reflected a minute. "It was a large room. There were a good many thingsin it."
"Can you describe 'some of those things?" "There were some glass flowers--modern--rather beautiful And I think there were some Chinese or Japanese pictures. And there was a bowl of tiny red tulips--amazingly early for them." "Anything else?" "I'm afraid I didn't notice anything in detail." "The furniturc do you remember the colour of the upholstery?" "Something silky, I think. That's all I can say." "Did you notice any of the small objects?" "I'm afraid not. There were so many. I know it struck me as quite a collector's room." There was a silence for a minute. Mrs. Lorrimer said with a faint smile:
"I'm afraid I have not been very helpful," "There is something else." He produced the bridge scores. "Here are the first three rubbers played. I wondered if you could help me with the aid of these scores to reconstruct the hands." "Let me see." Mrs. Lorrimer looked interested. She bent over the scores. "That was the first rubber. Miss Meredith and I were playing against the two men. The first game was played in four spades. We made it and an over trick. Then the next hand was left at two diamonds and Dr. Roberts went down one trick on it. There was quite a lot of bidding on the third hand, I remember. Miss Meredith passed. Major Despard went a heart. I passed. Dr. Roberts gave a jump bid of three clubs. Miss Meredith went three spades. Major Despard bid four diamonds. I doubled. Dr. Roberts took it into four hearts. They went down one." "Epatant,'" said Poirot. "What a memory!" Mrs. Lorrimer went on, disregarding him: "On the next hand Major Despard passed and I bid a no trump. Dr. Roberts bid three hearts. My partner said nothing. Despard put his partner to four. I doubled and they went down two tricks. Then I dealt and we went out on a four-spade call." She took up the next score. "It is difficult, that," said Poirot. "Major Despard scores in the cancellation manner." "I rather fancy both sides went down fifty to start with--then Dr. Roberts went down to five diamonds and we doubled and got him down three tricks. Then we made three clubs, but immediately after the others went game in spades. We made the second game in five clubs. Then we went down a hundred. The others made one heart, we made two no trumps and we finally won the rubber with a four-club call." She picked up the next score. "This rubber was rather a battle, I remember. It started tamely. Major Despard and Miss Meredith made a one-heart call. Then we went down a couple of fifties trying for four hearts and four spades. Then the others made game in spades--no use trying to stop them. We went down three hands running after that but undoubled. Then we won the second game in no trumps. Then a battle royal started. Each side went down in turn. Dr. Roberts overcalled but though he went down badly once or twice, his calling paid, for more than once he frightened Miss Meredith out of bidding her hand. Then he bid an original two spade, I gave him three diamonds, he bid four no trumps, I bid five spades and he suddenly jumped to seven diamonds. We were doubled, of course. He had no business to make such a call. By a kind of miracle we got it. I never thought we should when I saw his hand go down. If the others led a heart we would have been three tricks down. As it was they led the king of clubs and we got it. It was really very exciting." 'Je crois bien--a Grand Slam Vulnerable doubled. It causes the emotions, that! Me, I admit it, I have not the nerve to go for the slams. I content myself with the game." "Oh, but you shouldn't," said Mrs. Lorrimer with energy. "You must play the game properly." "Take risks, you mean?" "There is no risk if the bidding is correct. It should be a mathematical certainty. Unfortunately, few people really bid well. They know the opening bids but later they lose their heads. They cannot distinguish between a hand withwinning cards in it and a hand without losing cards but I mustn't give you a lecture on bridge, or on the losing count, M. Poirot.""It would improve my play, I am sure, Madame."Mrs. Lorrimer resumed her study of the score. "After that excitement the next hands were rather tame. Have you the fourth score there? Ah, yes. A ding-dong barrio neither side able to score below." "It is often like that as the evening wears on." "Yes, one starts tamely and then the cards get worked up." Poirot collected the scores and made a little bow. "Madame, I congratulate you. Your card memory is magnificent--but You remember, one might say, every card that was//15Iayed!"magnificent! "I believe I do."
/ "Memory is a wonderful gift. With it the past is never the past--I should imagine, Madame, that to you the past unrolls itself, every incident clear as yesterday. Is that so?" She looked at him quickly. Her eyes were wide and dark. It was only for a moment, then she had resumed her woman-ofthe-world manner, but Hercule Poirot did not doubt. That shot had gone home. Mrs. Lorrimer rose. "I'm afraid I shall have to leave now. I am so sorry--but I really mustn't be late." "Of course not---of course not. I apologise for trespassing on your time.""I'm sorry I haven't been able to help you more.""But you have helped me," said Hercule Poirot.
"I hardly think so." She spoke with decision. "But yes. You have told me something I wanted to know." She asked no question as to what that something was. He held out his hand, "Thank you, Madame, for your forbearance." As she shook hands with him she said: "You are an extraordinary man, M. Poirot." "I am as the good God made me, Madame." "We are all that, I suppose." "Not all, Madame. Some of us have tried to improve on His pattern. Mr. Shaitana, for instance." "In what way do you mean?" "He had a very pretty taste in objets de virtu and bric-a-brac--he should have been content with that. Instead, he collected other things." "What sort of things?" "Well--shall we say--sensations?" "And don't you think that was clans son caractre?" Poirot shook his head gravely. "He played the part of the devil too successfully. But he was not the devil. Au fond, he was a stupid man. And so--he died." "Because he was stupid?" "It is the sin that is never forgiven and always punished, Madame." There was a silence. Then Poirot said: "I take my departure. A thousand thanks for your amiability, Madame. I will not come again unless you send for me." Her eyebrows rose.
"Dear me, M. Poirot, why should I send for you?""You might. It is just an idea. If so, I will come. Remember that." He bowed once more and left the room.
In the street he said to himself.
"I am right .... I am sure I am right .... It must be that!"
第十一章 洛瑞玛太太奇尼巷
第十一章 洛瑞玛太太奇尼巷

一一一号是外貌整洁的小房子，屹立在一条安静的街道上。外门漆成黑色，台阶特意刷白，门环和门把在午后的阳光下闪闪发光。 一位戴雪白小帽和围裙的老使女来开门。她答复白罗的询问说：女主人在家。说着就领他走上窄窄的楼梯。 "尊姓大名，先生？" "赫邱里•白罗先生。" 他被请入一间普通的"Ｌ"型客厅。白罗打量四周，注意细节。上等家俱擦得亮晶晶，属于旧式的家用型。椅子和长沙发套着亮丽的印花棉布。附近有几个老式的银相框。此外空间和光线相当充足，高钵里种着非常漂亮的菊花。 洛瑞玛太太上前迎接客人。她看见他，并未显出吃惊的样子，与他握手，请他坐下，自己也坐在一张椅子上，然后怡然谈起天气。 话题中断了片刻。 赫邱里•白罗说："夫人，我来打扰，希望你原谅。" 洛瑞玛太太直接盯着他问道："这是专业性的访问喽？" "我承认是的。" "白罗先生，我虽然该把所知的一切说给巴特探长和警方听，并协助他们，可是我却没有义务为非官方的调查员效劳，你明白这一点吧？" "夫人，我深知这个事实。你如果赶我走，我会乖乖踏出厅门。" 洛瑞玛太太微微一笑。 "白罗先生，我不打算走那种极端。我可以给你十分钟的时间。十分钟过后，我得出去打桥牌。" "十分钟够用了。夫人，我要你描述那天晚上打桥牌的房间－－也就是夏塔纳  先生被杀的那个房间……的情景。" 洛瑞玛太太的眉毛往上抬。 "好一个特别的问题！我看不出有什么意义。" "夫人，你打桥牌的时候，若有人问你'为什么打Ａ？'或者'你为什么出Ｊ给Ｑ吃，不出Ｋ来赢这一圈呢？'如果有人问你这些话，答案一定很长很繁，对不对？" 洛瑞玛太太微微一笑。 "你是说这场游戏你是专家，我是生手。好。"她沉思片刻。"房间很大，东西很多。" "你能不能描述部分的内容？" "有一些玻璃花－－现代的－－相当美。我想有几张中国或日本画。有一大钵红色的小郁金香－－现在开花可真早。" "还有没有别的？" "我恐怕没有注意到细节。" "家俱－－你记不记得装潢的色调？" "我想是丝制的吧。我只知道这些了。" "你有没有注意到什么小东西？" "恐怕没有。东西好多喔。我只觉得象收藏家的房间。" 他们沉默了一分钟。洛瑞玛太太微微笑道："我恐怕帮不上大忙。" "还有别的事。"他抽出桥牌计分纸。"这是头三盘。靠这些计分纸帮忙，不知道你能不能回忆那天的牌。" "我看看。"洛瑞玛太太显得很有兴趣。她低头看计分纸。 "这是第一盘。梅瑞迪斯小姐和我一起对抗两位男士。首局打的是'黑桃４'。我们赢了，还赢了加赛的一场。下一圈叫到'方块２'就停了，罗勃兹医生落败一圈。我记得第三圈牌叫牌的人很多。梅瑞迪斯小姐放弃。德斯帕少校叫'红心１'。我放弃。罗勃兹医生突然改叫'梅花３'。梅瑞迪斯小姐叫'黑桃３'。德斯帕少校叫'方块４'。我加倍。罗勃兹医生叫'红心４'，他们落败一圈。" 白罗说："了不起，记忆力真棒！" 洛瑞玛太太不理他，继续回忆。"下一圈牌德斯帕少校放弃，我叫'无王１'。罗勃兹医生叫'红心３'。我的合伙人没说话。德斯帕替合伙人叫'４'。我加倍，他们落败两圈。后来我分牌，我们叫'黑桃４'决战。" 她拿起下一张计分纸。 白罗说："很难，德斯帕少校是边写变划掉的。" "我想开头双方各输五十分－－后来罗勃兹医生叫'方块５'，我们加倍，害他输了三圈。后来我们叫'梅花３'。可是不久对方就以黑桃成局。下一局我们叫'梅花５'。接着我们落败一百分。对方叫'红心１'，我们叫'无王２'。最后我们叫'梅花４'，赢了这一盘。" 她拿起第三张计分纸。 "我记得这一大盘斗得很精彩。起先平平淡淡的。德斯帕少校和梅瑞迪斯小姐叫'红心１'。后来我们试'红心４'和'黑桃４'，连输两次五十分。接着对方以黑桃成局－－挡也挡不住。后来我们落败三圈，却没有加倍。第二局我们以'无王'牌得到胜利。真正的狠斗开始了。双方轮流输。罗勃兹医生叫价过高，不过他虽惨败一两圈，叫牌却有了代价，因为他不只一次吓得梅瑞迪斯小姐不敢叫牌。后来他开叫'黑桃２'，我叫'方块３'，他叫'无王４'，我叫'黑桃５'，他突然跳到'方块７'。我们当然加倍了。他这样叫真没道理。我们凭奇迹打成了。我看他的牌摊开的时候，绝对没想到我们会赢。如果别人出红心，我们会落败三圈。结果他们出'梅花Ｋ'，我们就打成了。真惊险。" "我相信－－'大满贯'加倍，非常刺激，真的！我承认我没有胆子叫'满贯'。我只要成局就满足了。" 洛瑞玛太太精神勃勃说："噢，你不该这样。你该好好打。" "你是说冒险？" "只要叫牌叫对了，根本不冒险。这是数学上的肯定式。不幸叫牌叫得好的人并不多。他们知道开头怎么叫，后来就糊涂了。他们分不清含有得分牌的牌，以及没有失分牌的牌－－不过白罗先生，我不该给你上桥牌课。" "夫人，我相信可以增进我的牌技。" 洛瑞玛太太又拿起计分纸来读。 "惊险过后，下面几圈牌相当平淡。你有没有第四张计分纸？啊，有。旗鼓相当－－双方都无法得分。" "一个晚上下来，往往如此。" "是的，开牌平淡，后来牌局才激烈起来。" 白罗收起计分纸，微微鞠躬。 "夫人，恭喜你。你记牌脑力惊人－－真了不起！可以说，打过的牌你每一张都记得！" "我相信如此。" "记忆是绝妙的天父。有了好记忆，往事就不算往事了。夫人，我想过去的一切常在你心中出现，事事都象昨天一样清楚。对不对？" 她迅速瞥了他一眼，眸子又大又黑。那种表情只出现片刻，接着她又恢复世故的表情，可是赫邱里•白罗十分坑道。这一招已击中她的要害了。 洛瑞玛太太站起身。"我恐怕得出门了，真抱歉，我真的不能迟到。" "当然不行－－当然不行。抱歉侵占了你的时间。" "遗憾不能进一步协助你。" "不过你已经帮了我的忙了，"赫邱里•白罗说。 "我不以为然。"她断然说。 "有的。你说出了某些我想知道的事情。" 她没问是什么事。 他伸出手。 "夫人，谢谢你的雅量。" 她一面跟他握手一面说："白罗先生，你是个特殊的人。" "夫人，上帝把我造成什么样子，我就是什么样子。" "我想大家都如此吧。" "不见得，夫人。有些人想改良上帝造的雏形。夏塔纳先生就是一个例子。" "你是指哪一方面？" "他对于贵重物品及古董颇有鉴赏力；他应该心满意足；他却收集别的东西。" "哪一类的东西？" "噢－－我们该说－－轰动的事件吧？" "你不认为这是基于个性吗？" 白罗正色摇摇头。"他扮魔鬼扮得太成功了。但他不是魔鬼。他骨子里是笨瓜。所以－－他送掉性命。" "因为他笨？" "夫人，这是一种永远不受饶恕、永远受处罚的罪孽。" 彼此沉默片刻。接着白罗说："我告辞了。夫人，多谢你和蔼可亲。除非你请我来，我不会再来了。" 她的眉毛往上挑。"老天爷，白罗先生，我为什么要请你来呢？" "你也许会呦。这只是一种想法。记住，你若请我，我就来。" 他再度鞠躬，踏出门外。 他在街上自言自语："我猜得没错－－我自信猜得不错－－一定是如此！"
CHAPTER 12 Anne Meredith
CHAPTER 12 Anne Meredith

Mrs. Oliver extricated herself from the driving-seat of her little two-seater with some difficulty. To begin with, the makers of modem motor-cars assume that only a pair of sylph-like knees will ever be under the steering-wheel. It is also the fashion to sit low. That being so, for a middle-aged woman of generous proportions it requires a good deal of superhuman wriggling to get out from under the steering-wheel. In the second place, the seat next to the driving-seat was encumbered by several maps, a hangbag, three novels and a large bag of apples. Mrs. Oliver was partial to apples and had indeed been known to eat as many as five pounds straight offwhilst composing the complicated plot of The Death in the Drain Pipe--coming to herself with a start and an incipient stomach-ache an hour and ten minutes after she was due at an important luncheon party given in her honour.
With a final determined heave and a sharp shove with the knee against a recalcitrant door, Mrs. Oliver arrived a little too suddenly on the sidewalk outside the gate of Wendon Cottage, showering apple cores freely round her as she did so.
She gave a deep sigh, pushed back her country hat to an unfashionable angle, looked down with approval at the tweeds she had remembered to put on, frowned a little when she saw that she had absent-mindedly retained her London high-heeled patent leather shoes, and pushing open the gate of Wendon Cottage walked up the flagged path to the front door. She raag the bell and executed-a cheerfullittle rat-a-tat-tat on the knocker--a quaint coaceit in the form of a toad's head. As nothing happened she repeated the performance.
After a further pause of a minute and a half, Mrs. Oliver stepped briskly round the side of the house on a voyage of exploration.
There was a small old-fashioned garden with Michaelmas daisies and straggling chrysanthemums behind the cottage, and beyond it a field. Beyond the field was the river. For an October day the sua was warm.
Two girls were just crossing the field in the direction of the cottage. As theycame through the gate into the garden, the foremost of the two stopped dead. Mrs. Oliver came forward.
"How do you do, Miss Meredith? You remember me, don't you?""Oh--oh, of course.' Anne Meredith extended her hand hurriedly. Her eyes looked wide and startled. Then she pulled herself together.
"This is my friend who lives with me--Miss Dawes. Rhoda, this is Mrs. Oliver."The other girl was tall, dark, and vigorous-looking. She said excitedly:
"Oh, are you the Mrs. Oliver? Ariadne Oliver?""I am," said Mrs. Oliver, and she added to Anne, "Now let us sit down somewhere, my dear, because I've got a lot to say to you." "Of course. And we'll have tea- " '"Tea can wait," said Mrs. Oliver. Anne led the way to a little group of deck and basket chairs, all rather dilapidated. Mrs. Oliver chose the strongest-looking with some care, having had various unfortunate experiences with flimsy summer furniture. "Now, my dear," she said briskly. "Don't let's beat about the bush. About this murder the other evening. We've got to get busy and do something." "Do something?" queried Anne. "Naturally," said Mrs. Oliver. "I don't know what you think, but I haven't the least doubt who did it. That doctor. What was his name? Roberts. That's it! Roberts. A Welsh name! I never trust the Welsh! I had a Welsh nurse and she took me to Harrogate one day and went home having forgotten all bume. Very unstable. But never mind about her. Roberts did it--that's the point and we must put our heads together and prove he did." Rhoda Dawes laughed suddenly--then she blushed. "I beg your pardon. But you're--you're so different from what I would have imagined." "A disappointment, I expect," said Mrs. Oliver serenely. "I'm used to that. Never mind. What we must do is prove that Roberts did it!" "How can we?" said Anne. "Oh, don't be so defeatist, Anne," cried Rhoda Dawes. "I think Mrs. Oliver's splendid. Of course, she knows all about these things. She'll do just as Sven Hjerson does." Blushing slightly at the name of her celebrated Finnish detective, Mrs. Oliver said: "It's got to be done, and I'll tell you why, child. You don't want people thinking you did it?" "Why should they?" asked Anne, her colour rising. "You know what people are!" said Mrs. Oliver. "The three who didn't do it will come in for just as much suspicion as the one who did." Anne Meredith said slowly: "I still don't quite see why you came to me, Mrs. Oliver?" "Because in my opinion the other two don't matter! Mrs. Lorrimer is one of those women who play bridge at bridge clubs all day. Women like that must be made of armour-plating--they can look after themselves all right! And anyway she's old. It wouldn't matter ffany one thought she'd done it. A girl's different. She's got her life in front of her." "And Major Despard?" asked Anne. "Pah!" said Mrs. Oliver. "He's a man. I never worry about men. Men can look after themselves. Do it remarkably well, if you ask me. Besides, Major Despard enjoys a dangerous life. He's getting his fun at home instead of on the Irrawaddy--or do I mean the Limpopo? You know what I mean--that yellow African river that men like so much. No, I'm not worrying my head about either of those two." "It's very kind of you," said Anne slowly. "It was a beastly thing to happen," said Rhoda. "It's broken Anne up, Mrs. Oliver. She's awfully sensitive. And I think you're quite right. It would be ever so much better to do something than just to sit here thinking about it all." "Of course it would," said Mrs. Oliver. "To tell you the truth, a real murder has never come my way before. And, to continue telling the truth, I don't believereal murder is very much in my line. I'm so used to loading the dice--ff you understand what I mean. But I wasn't going to be out of it and let those three men have all the fun to themselves. I've always said that if a woman were the head of Scotland Yard " "Yes?" said Rhoda, leaning forward with parted lips. "If you were head of Scotland Yard, what would you do?" "I should arrest Dr. Roberts straight away--" "Yes?" "However, I'm not the head of Scotland Yard," said Mrs. Oliver, retreating from dangerous ground. "I'm a private individual " "Oh, you're not that," said Rhoda, confusedly complimentary. "Here we are," continued Mrs. Oliver, "three private individuals--all women. Let us see what we can do by putting our heads together." Anne Meredith nodded thoughtfully. Then she said: "Why do you think Dr, Roberts did it?" "He's that sort of man," replied Mrs. Oliver promptly. "Don't you think, though ' Anne hesitated. "Wouldn't a doctor ? I mean, something like poison would be so much easier for him." "Not at all. Poison--drugs of any kind would point straight to a doctor. Look how they are always leaving cases of dangerous drugs in cars all over London and getting them stolen. No, just because he was a doctor he'd take special care not to use anything of a medical kind." "I see," said Anne doubtfully. Then she said: "But why do you think he wanted to kill Mr. Shaitana? Have you any idea?" "Idea? I've got any amount of ideas. In fact, that's just the difficulty. It always is my difficulty. I can never think of even one plot at a time. I always think of at least five, and then it's agony to decide between them. I can think of six beautiful reasons for the murder. The trouble is I've no earthly means of knowing which is right. To begin with, perhaps Shaitana was a moneylender. He had a very oily look. Roberts was in his clutches, and killed him because he couldn't get the money to repay the loan. Or perhaps Shaitana ruined his daughter or his sister. Or perhaps Roberts is a bigamist, and Shaitana knew it. Or possibly Roberts married Shaitana's second cousin, and will inherit all Shaitana's money through her. Or ' How many have I got to?" "Four," said Rhoda. "Or--and this is a really good one--suppose Shaitana knew some secret in Roberts' past. Perhaps you didn't notice, my dear, but Shaitana said something rather peculiar at dinner--just before a rather queer pause." Anne stooped to tickle a caterpillar. She said, "I don't think I remember." "What did he say?" asked Rhoda. "Something about--what was it? an accident and poison. Don't you remember?'' Anne's left hand tightened on the basketwork of her chair. "I do remember something of the kind," she said composedly. Rhoda said suddenly, "Darling, you ought ,to have a coat. It's not summer, remember. Go and get one," Anne shook her head. "I'm quite warm." But she gave a queer little shiver as she spoke. "You see my theory," went on Mrs. Oliver. "I dare say one of the doctor'spatients poisoned himself by accident; but, of course, really, it was the doctor's own doing. I dare say he's murdered lots of people that way."A sudden colour came into Anne's cheeks. She said, "Do doctors usually want to murder their patients wholesale? Wouldn't it have rather a regrettable effect on their practice?""There would be a reason, of course," said Mrs. Oliver vaguely:
"I think the idea is absurd," said Anne crisply. "Absolutely absurdly melodramatic.""Oh, Anne!" cried Rhoda in an agony of apology. She looked at Mrs. Oliver. Her eyes, rather like those of an intelligent spaniel, seemed to be trying to say something. "Try and understand. Try and understand," those eyes said.
"I think it's a splendid idea, Mrs. Oliver," Rhoda said earnestly. "And a doctorcould get hold of somethitig quite untraceable, couldn't he?""Oh!" exclaimed Anne.
The other two turned to look at her.
"I remember something else," she said. "Mr. Shaitana said something about a doctor's opportunities in a laboratory. He must have meant something by that.""It wasn't Mr. Shaitana who said that." Mrs. Oliver shook her head. "It was Major Despard."A footfall on the garden walk made her turn her head.
"Well!" she exclaimed. "Talk of the devil!"
Major Despard had just come round the corner of the house.
第十二章 安妮·梅瑞迪斯
第十二章 安妮•梅瑞迪斯

奥利佛太太好不容易才跨出双人小车的驾驶座。新式汽车的制造商说方向盘下面只容得下苗条的膝盖；而且当时流行坐低一点。既然如此，一个体型庞大的中年妇女要跨出驾驶座，就得拚命扭动好半天了。其次，驾驶座旁边的位子堆了几张地图，一个手提袋，三本小说和一大袋苹果。奥利佛太太偏爱苹果，据说她构思《排水管命案》的错综情节时，曾一连吃下五磅苹果，本该去赴一个以她为主客的重要午餐会，结果慢了一小时十分钟才突然心惊和胃痛，清醒过来。 奥利佛太太断然抬起膝盖，猛顶一扇顽强的车门，突然踩上文顿别墅外面的人行道，把苹果核洒得到处都是。 她深深叹一口气，把她的乡村帽往后推成不太时髦的角度，以赞许的目光看看身上穿的苏格兰呢服装，等她发现自己心不在焉未换掉伦敦高根漆皮鞋，不免皱皱眉；她推开文顿别墅的大门，由石板小径走到前门。她按铃，并且高高兴兴扣门环－－门环颇古雅，形状象蟾蜍头。 没有动静，她再来一遍。 奥利佛太太又等了一分半钟，便轻快地绕到屋侧去探险。 那儿有个旧式的小花园，别墅后面种了麦克节雏菊和稀疏的菊花，再过去是田野。田野那一端有河流。现在是十月天，阳光算相当暖和了。 两位少女穿过田野向别墅走来。她们由大门进花园的时候，领头的那一位突然停下脚步。 奥利佛太太迎上前去。"梅瑞迪斯小姐，你好。你记得我吧？" "噢－－噢，当然。"安妮•梅瑞迪斯匆匆伸出手。她的眼睛睁得很大，仿佛吓慌了。接着她打起精神。 "这是跟我同住的朋友达威斯小姐。露达，这位是奥利佛太太。" 另一位姑娘高高的、黑黑的，看来精神健旺。她激动莫名说："噢，你就是奥利佛太太？亚莉阿德妮•奥利佛？" 奥利佛太太说："是的，"又向安妮说："孩子，现在我们找个地方坐下来，我有很多话要跟你说。
"当然。我们正要喝茶－－" "喝茶不妨等一会，"奥利佛太太说。 安妮带她穿过一小群帆布椅和篮状椅，椅子都相当破旧。奥利佛太太细心选了外表最结实的一张，她对脆弱的夏日家俱有过不少难堪的经验。她精神勃勃说："喏，孩子，我们别旁敲侧击了。谈的那天晚上的命案，我们得着手做点事情。" "做点事情？"安妮问道。 奥利佛太太说："当然啦，我不知道你的想法，我倒百分之百确定是谁干的。医生－－他姓什么？罗勃兹。这就对了！罗勃兹。威尔斯人的姓氏！我素来不相信威尔斯人！我请过一个威尔斯籍的护士，有一天她带我到哈罗门，自己回家，根本把我给忘了。非常不可靠。不过我们别谈她了。罗勃兹干的－－这是目标，我们必须集中智力，证明是他干的。" 露达•达威斯突然笑出声来，接着满面通红。 "请你原谅。你－－你跟我想象中完全不一样。" 奥利佛太太平平静静说："你大概觉得失望吧。我习惯了。没关系。我们得证明是罗勃兹干的！" "怎么证明呢？"安妮说。 露达•达威斯叫道："噢，安妮，别这么丧气嘛。我认为奥利佛太太棒极了。 她当然懂这些事。她会象史文•赫森一样办成的。" 奥利佛太太听人提到她笔下的芬兰名侦探，不禁略微脸红说："非办不可，孩子，我告诉你理由。你不希望大家以为是你干的吧？" "他们凭什么以为是我？"安妮血色汹涌说。 奥利佛太太说："你知道人的本性嘛！三个无辜的人跟一个犯案的人同样会遭到怀疑。" 安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐慢慢说："我仍然不懂你为什么来找我，奥利佛太太？" "因为我觉得另外两个人不重要！洛瑞玛太太是那种成天在桥牌俱乐部打牌的女人。那种人一定是铁甲打的；她们能照顾自己。何况她老了。有没有人觉得她犯案根本无所谓。姑娘家就不同了。你还有大半辈子要过呢。" "德斯帕少校呢？"安妮问道。 奥利佛太太说："呸！他是男人！我从来不为男人操心。男人会照顾自己；照顾得好极了。何况德斯帕少校喜欢危险的生活。他没到伊拉瓦地－－或者林波波……你知道我的意思吧－－就是男人喜欢非洲河流去探险。倒在家乡取乐呢。不，我不为那两个人伤脑筋。" 安妮慢慢说："你真好心。" 露达说："这件事真残忍。奥利佛太太，真把安妮害惨了。她敏感得吓人。我想你说得对。采取行动总比坐在这边乱想好多了。" 奥利佛太太说："当然嘛。跟你们说实话。我以前没碰过真正的命案。再说一句实话，我不相信真正的命案能合我的胃口。我习惯掺假－－你们懂我的意思吧。不过我不愿撒手，让三个男人独享办案的乐趣。我常说如果苏格兰场的主管由女人来当－－" 露达张着嘴巴，身子往前倾说："哦？你若是苏格兰场的主管，你要怎么办呢？" "我立刻逮捕罗勃兹医生－－" "哦？" 奥利佛太太撤回危险的立论说："然而我不是苏格兰场的主管。我是平民－－" 露达瞎恭维道："噢，你不是。" 奥利佛太太继续说："喏，我们是三个平民－－全都是女性。我们凑在一起想，看看能做什么。" 安妮•梅瑞迪斯若有所思点点头，然后说："你凭什么认为是罗勃兹医生干的？" 奥利佛太太立刻答道："他是那种人嘛。" 安妮犹豫不决。"你不认为－－医生－－我是说，毒药之类的东西对他而言更便利。" "才不哩。用任何一种毒药－－药物－－人家都会怀疑到医生头上。你看全伦敦的汽车上老是留下一箱箱的危险药品，让人偷走。不，正因为他是医生，他会特别小心不用药品。" 安妮半信半疑说："我明白了。" 接着她说："你想他为什么要杀夏塔纳先生？你有什么概念？" "概念？我的概念多得很。其实难就在这里。这永远是我的困难所在。我一次无法想出命案的六个好理由。问题是我无法知道哪一个才对。首先，夏塔纳先生也许放高利贷。他看来油里油气的。罗勃兹被他套牢了，筹不出钱来还债，就杀了他。也许夏塔纳害过他的女儿或者他妹妹。也许罗勃兹重婚，被夏塔纳知道了。也许罗勃兹娶了夏塔纳的表亲，想靠她继承夏塔纳的钱。噢－－我说了多少个理由啦？" "四个，"露达说。 "噢－－下面这个理由真的很棒－－说不定夏塔纳知道罗勃兹过去的某项秘密。孩子，你大概没注意，夏塔纳在晚宴上说过一些很怪的话，接着又怪里怪气停下来。" 安妮弯身去逗一条毛虫。她说："我想不起来了。" "他说了什么？"露达问道。 "关于－－什么来着－－意外和毒药之类的。你不记得了吗？" 安妮的左手按着椅子上的编花枝条。 "我记得有这一类的话，"她泰然自若说。 露达突然说，"宝贝，你该穿件外套。记住，现在不是夏天。去拿一件吧。" 安妮摇摇头，"我觉得很暖和。" 但她说话的时候却微微发抖。 奥利佛太太继续说："你明白我的理论吧。我敢说医生的某个病人意外吃了毒药。其实是医生的杰作。我敢说他用这个法子都死个许多人。" 安妮的脸颊突然出现红晕。她说："医生往往想毒死大批病人吗？对他们的业务不会有可悲的影响吗？" 奥利佛太太含含糊糊说："当然啦，一定有理由。" 安妮脆声说："我认为这个想法太荒唐。刺激浪漫得荒唐。" 露达以抱歉的口吻叫道，"噢，安妮！"她看看奥利佛太太。她的眼睛跟一头聪明的长耳犬十分相象，似乎想表达某种意思。那双眸子说："请试着谅解。请试着谅解。" 露达认真说，"奥利佛太太，我认为这个想法棒极了。医生可以掌握一些不容易追查的东西，不是吗？" "噢！"安妮惊呼道。 另外两个人都转身看她。 她说："我想起另外一件事。夏塔纳先生说医生有机会在实验室里动手脚。他一定别有深意。" 奥利佛太太摇摇头，"不是夏塔纳先生说的。是德斯帕少校。" 花园小径脚步声传来，她回头望。 她惊叫说，"咦，说曹操曹操到！" 德斯帕少校正绕过屋角走过来。
CHAPTER 13 Second Visitor
CHAPTER 13 Second Visitor

At the sight of Mrs. Oliver, Major Despard looked slightly taken aback. Under his tan his face flushed a rich brick-red, Embarrassment made him jerky. He made for Anne.
"I apologise, Miss Meredith," he said. "Been ringing your bell. Nothing happened. Was passing this way. Thought I might just look you up,""I'm so sorry you've been ringing," said Anne. "We haven't got a maid---only awoman who comes in the mornings." She introduced him to Rhoda. Rhoda said briskly:
"Let's have some tea. It's getting chilly. We'd better go in."They all went into the house. Rhoda disappeared into the kitchen. Mrs. Oliversaid:
"This is quite a coincidence--our all meeting here."Despard said slowly, "Yes."
His eyes rested on her thoughtfully--appraising eyes.
"I've been telling Miss Meredith," said Mrs. Oliver, who was thoroughly enjoying herself, "that we ought to have a Plan of campaign. About the murder, Imean. Of course, that doctor did it. Don't you agree with me?""Couldn't say. Very little to go on."
Mrs. Oliver put on her "How like a man!" expression.
A certain air of constraint had settled over the three. Mrs. Oliver sensed it quickly enough. When Rhoda brought in tea she rose and said she must be getting back to town. No, it was ever so kind of them, but she wouldn't have any tea. "I'm going to leave you my card," she said. "Here it is, with my address on it. Come and see me when you come up to town, and we'll talk everything over and see if we can't think of something ingenious to get to the bottom of things." "I'll come out to the gate with you," said Rhoda. Just as they were walking down the path to the front gate, Anne Meredith ran out of the house and overtook them. "I've been thinking things over," she said. Her pale face looked unusually resolute. "Yes, my dear?" "It's extraordinarily kind of you, Mrs. Oliver, to have taken all this trouble. But I'd really rather not do anything at all. I mean--it was all so horrible. I just want to forget about it." "My dear child, the question is, will you be allowed to forget about it?" "Oh, I quite understand that the police won't let it drop. They'll probably come here and ask me a lot more questions. I'm prepared for that. But privately, I mean, I don't want to think about it--or be reminded of it in any way. I dare say I'm a coward, but that's how I feel about it." "Oh, Anne!" cried Rhoda Dawes. "I can understand your feeling, but I'm not at all sure that you're wise," said Mrs. Oliver. "Left to themselves, the police will probably never find out the truth." Anne Meredith shrugged her shoulders. "Does that really matter?" "Matter?" cried Rhoda. "Of course it matters. It does matter, doesn't it, Mrs. Oliver?" "I should certainly say so," said Mrs. Oliver dryly. "I don't agree," said Anne obstinately. "Nobody who knows me would ever think I'd done it. I don't see any reason for interfering. It's the business of the police to get at the truth." "Oh, Anne, you are spiritless," said Rhoda. "That's how I feel, anyway," said Anne. She held out her hand. "Thank you very much, Mrs. Oliver. It's very good of you to have bothered." "Of course, if you feel that way, there's nothing more to be said," said Mrs. Oliver cheerfully. "I, at any rate, shall not let the grass grow under my feet. Goodbye, my dear. Look me up in London if you change your mind." She climbed into the car, started it, and drove off, waving a cheerful hand at the two girls. Rhoda suddenly made a dash after the car and leapt on the running-board. "What you said about looking you up in London," she said breathlessly. "Did you only mean Anne, or did you mean me, too?" Mrs. Oliver applied the brake. "I meant both of you, of course." "Oh, thank you. Don't stop. I--perhaPs I might come one day. There's something--- No, don't stop. I can jump off." She did so and, waving a hand, ran back to the gate, where Anne was standing. "What on earth ?" began Anne. "Isn't she a duck?" asked Rhoda enthusiastically. "I do like her. She had on odd stockings, did you notice? I'm sure she's frightfully clever. She must be--to write all those books. What fun if she found out the truth when the police and every one were baffled." "Why did she come here?" asked Anne. Rhoda's eyes opened wide. "Darling--she told you--Anne made an impatient gesture. "We must go in. I forgot. I've left him all alone." Major Despard was standing by the mantelpiece, teacup in hand. He cut short Anne's apologies for leaving him. "Miss Meredith, I want to explain why I've butted in like this." "Oh--but " "I said that I happened to be passing--that wasn't strictly true. I came here on purpose." "How did you know my address?" asked Anne slowly. "I got it from Superintendent Battle." He saw her shrink slightly at the name. He went on quickly: "Battle's on his way here now. I happened to see him at Paddington. I got my car out and came down here. I knew I could beat the train easily." "But why?" Despard hesitated just for a minute. "I may have been presumptuous--but I had the impression that you were, perhaps, what is called 'alone in the world.'" "She's got me," said Rhoda. Despard shot a quick glance at her, rather liking the gallant boyish figure that leant against the mantelpiece and was following his words so intensely. They were an attractive pair, these two. "I'm sure she couldn't have a more devoted friend than you, Miss Dawes," he said courteously; "but it occurred to me that, in the peculiar circumstances, the advice of some one with a good dash of worldly wisdom might not be amiss. Frankly, the situation is this: Miss Meredith is under suspicion of having committed murder. The same applies to me and to the two other people who were in the room last night. Such a situation is not agreeableand it has its own peculiar difficulties and dangers which some one as young and inexperienced as you are, Miss Meredith, might not recognise. In my opinion, you ought to put yourself in the hands of a thoroughly good solicitor. Perhaps you have already done so?" Anne Meredith shook her head. "I never thought of it." "Exactly as I suspected. Have you got a good man--a London man, for choice?" Again Anne shook her head. "I've hardly ever needed a solicitor." "There's Mr. Bury," said Rhoda. "But he's about a hundred-and-two, and quite gaga." "If you'll allow me to advise you, Miss Meredith, I recommend your going to Mr. Myherne, my own solicitor. Jacobs, Peel & Jacobs is the actual name of the firm. They're first-class people, and they know all the ropes." Anne had got paler. She sat down. "Is it really necessary?" she asked in a low voice. "I should say emphatically so. There are all sorts of legal pitfalls.""Are these people very--expensive?- "That doesn't matter a bit," said Rhoda. "That will be quite all right, Major Despard. I think everything you say is quite true. Anne ought to be protected." "Their charges will, I think, be quite reasonable," said Despard. He added seriously: "I really do think it's a wise course, Miss Meredith." "Very well," said Anne slowly. "I'll do it if you think so." "Good." Rhoda said warmly: "I think it's awfully nice of you, Major Despard. Really frightfully nice." Anne said, "Thank you." She hesitated, and then said: "Did you say Superintendent Battle was coming here?" "Yes. You mustn't be alarmed by that. It's inevitable." "Oh, I know. As a matter of fact, I've been expecting him." Rhoda said impulsively: "Poor darling--it's nearly killing her, this business. It's such a shamso frightfully unfair." Despard said: "I agree--it's a pretty beastly businessdragging a young girl into an affair of this kind. If any one wanted to stick a knife into Shaitana, they ought to have chosen some other place or time." Rhoda asked squarely: "Who do you think did it? Dr. Roberts or that Mrs. Lorrimer?" A very faint smile stirred Despard's moustache. "May have done it myself, for all you know." "Oh, no," cried Rhoda. "Anne and I know you didn't do it." He looked at them both with kindly eyes. A nice pair of kids. Touchingly full of faith and trust. A timid little creature, the Meredith girl. Never mind, Myherne would see her through. The other was a fighter. He doubted if she would have crumpled up in the same way if she'd been in her friend's place. Nice girls. He'd like to know more about them. These thoughts passed through his mind. Aloud he said: "Never take anything for granted, Miss Dawes. I don't set as much value on human life as most people do. All this hysterical fuss about road deaths for instance. Man is always in danger from traffic, from germs, from a hundred-and-one things. As well be killed one way as another. The moment you begin being careful of yourself adopting as your motto 'Safety First'-you might as well be dead, in my opinion." "Oh, I do agree with you," cried Rhoda. "I think one ought to live frightfully dangerously--if one gets the chance, that is. But life, on the whole, is terribly tame." "It has its moments." "Yes, for you. You go to out-of-the-way places and get mauled by tigers and shoot things and jiggers bury themselves in your toes and insects sting you, and everything's terribly uncomfortable but frightfully thrilling." "Well, Miss Meredith has had her thrill, too. I don't suppose it often happens that you've actually been in the room while a murder was committed--" "Oh, don't!" cried Anne. He said quickly: "I'm sorry." But Rhoda said with a sigh: "Of course it was awful but it was exciting, too! I don't think Anne appreciates that side of it. You know, I think that Mrs. Oliver is thrilled to the core to have been there that night." "Mrs ? Oh, your fat friend who writes the books about the unpronounceable Finn. Is she trying her hand at detection in real life?" "She wants to." "Well, let's wish her luck. It would be amusing if she put one over on Battle and Co." "What is Superintendent Battle like?" asked Rhoda curiously. Major Despard said gravely: "He's an extraordinarily astute man. A man of remarkable ability." "Oh!" said Rhoda. "Anne said he looked rather stupid." "That, I should imagine, is part of Battle's stock-in-trade. But we mustn't make any mistakes. Battle's no fool." He rose. "Well, I must be off. There's just one other thing I'd like to say." Anne had risen also. "Yes?" she said as she held out her hand. Despard paused a minute, picking his words carefully. He took her hand and retained it in his. He looked straight into the wide, beautiful grey eyes. "Don't be offended with me," he said. "I just want to say this: It's humanly possible that there may be some feature of your acquaintanceship with Shaitana that you don't want to come out. If so--don't be angry, please" (he felt the instinctive pull of her hand)"you are perfectly within your rights in refusing to answer any questions Battle may ask unless your solicitor is present." Anne tore her hand away. Her eyes opened, their grey darkening with anger. "There's nothing--nothing .... I hardly knew the beastly man." "Sorry," said Major Despard. "Thought I ought to mention it." "It's quite true," said Rhoda. "Anne barely knew him. She didn't like him much, but he gave frightfully good parties." "That," said Major Despard grimly, "seems to have been the only justification for the late Mr. Shaitana's existence." Anne said in a cold voice: "Superintendent Battle can ask me anything he likes. I've nothing to hide nothing." Despard said very gently, "Please forgive me." She looked at him. Her anger dwindled. She smiled it was a very sweet smile. "It's all right," she said. "You meant it kindly, I know." She held out her hand again. He took it and said: "We're in the same boat, you know. We ought to be pals .... " It was Anne who went with him to the gate. When she came back Rhoda was staring out of the window and whistling. She turned as her friend entered the room. "He's frightfully attractive, Anne." "He's nice, isn't he?" "A great deal more than nice .... I've got an absolute passion for him. Why wasn't I at that damned dinner instead of you? I'd have enjoyed the excitement-- the net closing round me--the shadow of the scaffold-- "No, you wouldn't. You're talking nonsense, Bhoda.' Anne's voice was sharp. Then it softened as she said: "It was nice of him to come all this way--for a stranger--a girl he's only met once.""Oh, he fell for you. Obviously. Men don't do purely disinterested kindnesses. He wouldn't have come toddling down if you'd been cross-eyed and covered with pimples!""Don't you think so?"
"I do not, my good idiot. Mrs. Oliver's a much more disinterested party.""I don't like her," said Anne abruptly. "I had a sort of feeling about her Iwonder what she really came for?" "The usual suspicions of your own sex. I dare say Major Despard had an axe to grind, if it comes to that." "I'm sure he hadn't," cried Anne hotly. Then she blushed as Rhoda Dawes laughed.
第十三章 第二位访客
第十三章 第二位访客

德斯帕少校看到奥利佛太太好象吃了一惊。他那晒黑的脸皮转成深红砖色，人也窘得微微痉挛。他走向安妮说："对不起，梅瑞迪斯小姐。一直按你的铃。没什么事。打从这边经过，觉得不妨来看看你。" 安妮说："你按铃我真抱歉。我们没有使女－－只有一位妇人早上来帮佣。" 她介绍客人和露达相识。露达精神勃勃说："我们喝点茶。天气渐渐冷了。我们还是进去吧。" 大家踏入屋内。露达走进厨房。奥利佛太太说："真巧－－我们全都在这儿碰面。" 德斯帕慢慢说："是的。" 他双眼若有所思盯着她－－眼中含有评估的意味。 奥利佛太太自得其乐说："我正跟梅瑞迪斯小姐说，我们该有个战斗计划。我是指命案而言。一定是医生干的。你不同意我的看法吗？" "不能确定。可进展的事项很少。" 奥利佛太太摆出一副"男人就是这样"的表情。 三个人之间的气氛很拘泥。奥利佛太太立刻感觉出来了。露达端茶来的时候，她起身说要赶回城里。不她们真客气，可是她不想喝茶。 她说："我留一张名片给你们。喏，上面有我的地址。你们若进城，请过来看我，我们细细讨论，看能不能想出什么巧妙的方法来寻根究底。" "我送你到大门口，"露达说。 她们沿着前门小径走，安妮•梅瑞迪斯跑出屋外，追上她们。她说："我考虑过了。"她那苍白的小脸显得十分坚定。 "哦，孩子？" "奥利佛太太，你费了这么多事儿，真好心。不过我宁可不采取任何行动。我意思是说－－那一切太可怕了。我只想把它给忘掉。" "孩子，问题是环境容不容许你忘掉呢？" "噢，我知道警方不会放弃的。他们也许会来这边。再问我许多问题－－我有准备。不过，私下我可不愿再想那件事－－或者以任何方式唤起回忆。我自知懦弱，可是我的心情就是如此。" 露达•达威斯嚷道："噢！安妮。" 奥利佛太太说："我可以谅解你的心情，但是我认为你不够明智。让警方自己去查，说不定永远查不出真相。" 安妮•梅瑞迪斯耸耸肩。 "那又有什么关系呢？" 露达嚷道："关系？当然有关系。关系重大，奥利佛太太，对不对？" 奥利佛太太淡然说，"我当然认为如此。" 安妮执意说："我不以为然。没有一个认识我的人会认为是我干的。我看不出插手的理由。真相该由警方去找。" "噢，安妮，你真冷漠。" 安妮说："反正我的心情就是如此。"她伸出手。"多谢，奥利佛太太。你不嫌麻烦，真好心。" 奥利佛太太怡然说："当然啦，你的心情若是如此，就没什么好说了。我无论如何不偷懒。再见，孩子。你若改变主意，到伦敦来找我吧。" 她爬上车，发动引擎，高高兴兴向两位姑娘挥手。 露达突然冲过去追那辆缓缓发动的汽车。 她气喘吁吁说："你说－－到伦敦去看你－－是指安妮，还是连我也包括在内？" 奥利佛太太踩煞车。 "我当然是指你们两位。" "噢，谢谢你。别停车。我－－也许有一天会来。有一件事－－不，别停车。我可以跳开。"  她说到做到，然后挥着手跑回大门边，安妮还站在那儿。 "究竟怎么－－？"安妮说。 露达热诚地说："她不是挺可爱吗？我喜欢她。她穿的袜子不成双，你发现没有？我相信她聪明得可怕。写过那么多书，一定很聪明。万一警方和其它的人都挫败，她却查出真相，那多有趣啊。" "她为什么来这边？"安妮问道。 露达的眼睛睁得好大。"宝贝，她告诉过你啦－－" 安妮作出不耐烦的手势。 "我们得进去了。我忘啦，把他一个人撇在屋里。" "德斯帕少校？安妮，他长得真俊，不是吗？" "我想是吧。" 她们一起走上小径。 德斯帕少校手持茶杯站在壁炉架旁边。安妮为自己撇下他而道歉，他打岔说："梅瑞迪斯小姐，我要解释自己冒冒失失来此的理由。" "噢－－不过－－" "我说我刚好经过。其实不完全对，我是特意来的。" 安妮缓缓问道："你怎么知道我的地址？" "我是从巴特探长那边看到的。" 他发觉对方一听这个名字就闪缩了一下。他飞快往下说："巴特现在正要来这里。我恰好在巴丁顿看见他。我开车出来，赶往此地。我知道可以比火车先抵达。" "何必呢？" 德斯帕犹豫了一分钟。"也许是我太放肆，我觉得你也许'孤苦无依'。" "她有我啊，"露达说。 德斯帕连忙瞥了她一眼，相当喜欢这位倚着壁炉架专心听他讲话的侠士型少女。两位姑娘真是迷人的一对。 他彬彬有礼说："达威斯小姐，我相信你是最忠诚的朋友，不过我突然觉得，在特殊的情况下能由见得广的人提出忠告也不错。坦白说，现在的情形是这样子。梅瑞迪斯小姐有谋杀的嫌疑，我和当时在房间里的另外两个人也有。这种情况并不愉快－－而且别有困难和危险，梅瑞迪斯小姐，象你这样年轻无经验的人也许看不出来。依我看，你该请一位好律师帮忙。说不定你已经请了？" 安妮•梅瑞迪斯摇摇头。 "我从来也没想到这一点。" "不出我所料。你有没有高明的律师－－伦敦人可选？" 安妮又摇摇头。 "我以前从不需要律师。" 露达说："有一位布瑞先生。不过他年约一百零二岁，已相当迷糊了。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐，你若容许我提出忠告，我推荐你去找我的律师米而尼先生。那家律师事务所名叫'雅各斯、皮而和雅各斯'。他们都是一流的人物，熟悉各种秘诀。" 安妮脸色更苍白了。她坐下来。 她低声问道："是不是真的有必要？" "我强调有。法律的陷阱太多了。" "这些人－－收费是不是很高？" 露达说："这倒无所谓。德斯帕先生，没问题的。我想你的话很对，安妮应当受保护。" 德斯帕说："我想他们收费一定很合理。"接着又一本正经说："梅瑞迪斯小姐，我真的认为这是明智的措施。" 安妮慢慢说："好，你们若认为如此，我就照办吧。" "好。" 露达充满温馨说："德斯帕少校，我觉得你真好。实在太好了。" 安妮说："谢谢你。" 她迟疑一会才说："你说巴特探长正要来这儿？" "是的，你千万别惊慌。这是难免的。" "噢，我知道。其实我一直在等他来。" 露达冲动地说："可怜的宝贝－－这件事几乎害死她。真可耻，不公平。" 德斯帕说："我有同感－－害一位少女卷进这种事，真残酷。如果任何人想拿刀捅夏塔纳，他们该另择地点和时间。" 露达直爽地问道："你认为是谁干的－－罗勃兹医生还是洛瑞玛太太？" 德斯帕露出笑容，茈须颤动了一下。 "说不定是我自己干的哩。" 露达叫道："噢，不，安妮和我知道不是你干的。" 他以和善的目光看看她们俩。 一对乖孩子，充满热诚和信赖，叫人感动。姓梅瑞迪斯的姑娘是胆怯的小东西。别操心，米而尼律师会照顾她。另一位是斗士型，不知道她若和好友易地而处会不会也完全崩溃。迷人的姑娘－－他想对她们多几分认识。 思绪一一掠过他的脑海。他说："达威斯小姐，任何一件事都不能不抱几分怀疑。我对人命不如大多数人来得重视。例如大家为路上倒毙的人大惊小怪……之类的。人随时遭遇危险－－来自交通、细菌和各方面的危险。哪一种死法都差不多。依我看来，人开始当心自己，采纳'安全第一'的箴言，就跟死掉差不了多少。" 露达嚷道："噢，我跟你有同感。我认为人应该过危险的生活－－我是说有机会的话。不过整体说来，人生平淡得可怕。" "也有精采的时刻。" "是的，对你而言是如此。你去偏远的地方，被老虎抓伤，开枪射野兽，沙蚤钻进你的脚趾，昆虫叮你，样样都很不舒服，却万分刺激。" "算啦，梅瑞迪斯小姐也有刺激的经验啊。我想命案发生时能在同一间屋内的机会并不多－－" "噢，别说了，"安妮嚷道。 他立即说："对不起。" 可是露达叹口气说："当然可怕，不过也很刺激！我想安妮并未体会事情的这一面。奥利佛太太那天晚上也在场，大概兴奋极了。" "什么太太－－噢，那位写书描写芬兰怪侦探的胖朋友。她是否想在真实的人生中试一试侦查工作？" "她想这么做。" "噢，我们祝她好运吧。她若能使大家接受'巴特公司'这个组织，一定很有趣。" 露达好奇地问道："巴特探长长得什么样子？" 德斯帕少校一本正经说："他是非常机灵的人，能干极了。" 露达说："噢！安妮说他看来相当笨。" "我想那是巴特的特点之一。不过我们千万别误会，巴特不是傻瓜。" 他站起来。"好啦，我得走了。我还要说一句话。" 安妮也站起身。 她一面伸手一面问："哦？" 德斯帕迟疑一分钟，慎选措辞。他拉起她的手，一直握在手上；眼睛笔直盯着那一双又大又美的灰眼睛。 他说："别生我的气，我只想说一句话。你和夏塔纳可能有某方面的交情，而不想说出来。若是如此－－请别生气"－－他觉得她不自觉想抽回手－－"你有权利拒绝答复任何问题。除非律师在场，巴特也许会问的。" 安妮缩回纤手。她杏眼圆睁，灰眸子因愤怒而发黑。 "没有什么－－没有什么－－我根本不太认识那个野蛮人。" 德斯帕少校说："抱歉，我以为该提一提。" 露达说："对极了，安妮跟他不熟。她不喜欢他，但是他宴客的内容很棒。" 德斯帕少校裂嘴一笑说："那好象是已故夏塔纳先生存在的唯一理由。" 安妮以冷静的口吻说："巴特探长可以爱问什么就问什么。我没有事情要隐瞒－－没有。"  德斯帕柔声说："请原谅我。" 她望着他，怒气减低了；微微一笑，笑得好甜好甜说："没关系，我知道你是好意。" 她又伸出手。他拉起纤手说："你知道，我们同舟共济，我们该做朋友。" 安妮送他到大门口。她回来的时候，露达正盯着窗外吹口哨。好友进屋，她回头望。 "安妮，他好迷人喔。" "他很亲切，不是吗？" "不只是亲切，我简直迷上他了。参加那个臭晚宴的人为什么是你而不是我呢？我一定会喜欢那份刺激－－身边的密网－－刑台的阴影－－" "不，不会的。露达，你简直胡扯。" 安妮的声音很尖，后来又软下来说："他大老远跑来，真好心－－为一个陌生人－－一个只见过一次的女孩子。" "噢，他爱上你了，一眼就看得出来。男人不会纯粹做善事的。你若天生一对斜眼，满脸都是面疱，他绝不会长途跋涉而来。" "你认为不会？" "我认为不会，小呆瓜。奥利佛太太比他更没私心。" 安妮唐突地说："我不喜欢她。我对她有一种感觉，不知道她来此目标何在？" "同性往往互相猜忌。我敢说，德斯帕少校有私心。" "我相信他没有，"安妮激辩说。 露达•达威斯笑起来，她不禁满面羞红。
CHAPTER 14 Third Visitor
CHAPTER 14 Third Visitor

Superintendent Battle arrived at Wallingford about six o'clock. It was his intention to learn as much as he could from innocent local gossip before interviewing Miss Anne Meredith. It was not difficult to glean such information as there was. Without committing himself definitely to any statement, the superintendent nevertheless gave several different impressions of his rank and calling in life. At least two people would have said confidently that he was a London builder come down to see about a new wing to be added to the cottage, from another you would have learned that he was one of these weekenders wanting to take a furnished cottage," and two more would have said they knew positively, and for a fact, that he was the representative of a hardcourt tennis firm. The information that the superintendent gathered was entirely favourable. "Wendon Cottage? Yes, that's right--on the Marlbury Road. You can't miss it. Yes, two young ladies. Miss Dawes and Miss Meredith. Very nice young ladies,. too. The quiet kind. "Here for years? Oh, no, not that long. Just over two years. September quarter they came in. Mr. Pickersgill they bought it from. Never used it much, he didn't, after his wife died." Superintendent Battle's informant had never heard they came from Northumberland. London, he thought they came from. Popular in the neighbourhood, though some people were old-fashioned and didn't think two young ladies ought to be living alone. But very quiet, they were. None of this cocktail-drinking week-end lot. Miss Rhoda, she was the dashing one. Miss Meredith was the quiet one. Yes, it was Miss Dawes what paid the bills. She was the one had got the money. The superintendent's researches at last led him inevitably to Mrs. Astwell--- who "did" for the ladies at Wendon Cottage. Mrs. Astwell was a loquacious lady. "Well, no, sir. I hardly think they'd want to sell. Not so soon. They only got in two years ago. I've done for them from the beginning, yes, sir. Eight o'clock till twelve, those are my hours. Very nice, lively young ladies, always ready for a joke or a bit of fun. Not stuck-up at all.""Well, of course, I couldn't say ffit's the same Miss Dawes you knew, sir--the same family, I mean. It's my fancy her home's in Devonshire. She gets the cream sent her now and again, and says it reminds her of home; so I think it must be.
"As you say, sir, it's sad for so many young ladies having to earn their livings nowadays. These young ladies aren't what you'd call rich, but they have a very pleasant life. It's Miss Dawes has got the money, of course. Miss Anne's her companion, in a manner of speaking, I suppose you might say. The cottage belongs to Miss Dawes.
"I couldn't really say what part Miss Anne comes from. I've heard her mention the Isle of Wight, and I know she doesn't like the North of England; and she and Miss Rhoda were together in Devonshire, because I've heard them joke about the hills and talk about the pretty coves and beaches."The flow went on. Every now and then Superintendent Battle made a mental note. Later, a cryptic word or two was jotted down in his little book.
At half-past eight that evening he walked up the path to the door of Wendon Cottage.
It was opened to him by a tall, dark girl wearing a frock of orange cretonne. "Miss Meredith live here?" inquired Superintendent Battle. He looked very wooden and soldierly. "Yes, she does.""I'd like to speak to her, please. Superintendent Battle."He was immediately favoured with a piercing stare.
"Come in," said Rhoda Dawes, drawing back from the doorway.
Anne Meredith was sitting in a cosy chair by the fire, sipping coffee. She was wearing embroidered crape-de-chine pyjamas.
"It's Superintendent Battle," said Rhoda, ushering in the guest.
Anne rose and came forward with outstretched hand.
"A bit late for a call," said Battle. "But I wanted to find you in, and it's been a fine day."Anne smiled.
"Will you have some coffee, superintendent? Rhoda, fetch another cup." "Well, it's very kind of you, Miss Meredith.""We think we make rather good coffee," said Anne.
She indicated a chair, and Superintendent Battle sat down. Rhoda brought a cup, and Anne poured out his coffee. The fire crackled and the flowers in the vases made an agreeable impression upon the superintendent.
It was a pleasant homey atmosphere. Anne seemed self-possessed and at herease, and the other girl continued to stare at him with devouring interest. "We've been expecting you," said Anne.
Her tone was almost reproachful. "Why have you neglected me?" it seemed tosay.
"Sorry, Miss Meredith. I've had a lot of routine work to do.""Satisfactory?"
"Not particularly. But it all has to be done. I've turned Dr. Roberts inside out, so to speak. And the same for Mrs. Lorrimer. And now I've come to do the samefor you, Miss Meredith." Anne smiled. "I'm ready.""What about Major Despard?" asked Rhoda.
"Oh, he won't be overlooked. I can promise you that," said Battle.
He set down his coffee-cup and looked towards Anne. She sat up a little straighter in her chair.
"I'm quite ready, superintendent. What do you want to know?""Well, roughly, all about yourself, Miss Meredith.""I'm quite a respectable person," said Anne, smiling.
"She's led a blameless life, too," said Rhoda. "I can answer for that.""Well, that's very nice," said Superintendent Battle cheerfully. "You'veknown Miss Meredith a long time, then?"
"We were at school together," said Rhoda. "What ages ago it seems, doesn'tit, Anne?"
"So long ago, you can hardly remember it, I suppose," said Battle with achuckle. "Now, then, Miss Meredith, I'm afraid I'm going to be rather like thoseforms you fill up for passports."
"I was born "began Anne.
"Of poor but honest parents," Rhoda put in.
Superintendent Battle held up a slightly reproving hand.
"Now, now, young lady," he said.
"Rhoda, darling," said Anne gravely. "It's serious, this.""Sorry," said Rhoda.
"Now, Miss Meredith, you were born--where?"
"At Quetta, in India."
"Ah, yes. Your people were Army folk?"
"Yes--my father was Major John Meredith. My mother died when I was eleven. Father retired when I was fifteen and went to live in Cheltenham. He diedwhen I was eighteen and left practically no money." Battle nodded his head sympathetically. "Bit of a shock to you, I expect.""It was, rather. I always knew that we weren't well off, but to find there waspractically nothing--well, that's different.""What did you do, Miss Meredith?"
"I had to take a job. I hadn't been particularly well educated and I wasn't clever. I didn't know typing or shorthand, or anything. A friend in Cheltenham found me a job with friends of hers--two small boys home in the holidays, andgeneral help in the house."
"Name, please?"
"That was Mrs. Eldon, The Larches, Ventnor. I stayed there for two years,and then the Eldons went abroad. Then I went to a Mrs. Deering.""My aunt," put in Rhoda.
"Yes, Rhoda got me the job. I was very happy. Rhoda used to come and stay sometimes, and we had great fun.""What were you there companion?"
"Yes--it amounted to that.".
"More like under-gardener," said Rhoda.
She explained:
"My Aunt Emily is just mad on gardening. Anne spent most of her time weeding or putting in bulbs.""And you left Mrs. Deering?"
"Her health got worse, and she had to have a regular nurse.""She's got cancer," said Rhoda. "Poor darling, she has to have morphia and things like that.""She had been very kind to me. I was very sorry to go," went on Anne.
"I was looking about for a cottage," said Rhoda, "and wanting some one to share it with me. Daddy's married again--not my sort at all. I asked Anne to come here with me, and she's been here ever since.""Well, that certainly seems a most blameless life," said Battle. "Let's just get the dates clear. You were with Mrs. Eldon two years, you say. By the way, what is her address now?" "She's in Palestine. Her husband has some Government appointment out there---I'm not sure what." "Ah, well, I can soon find out. And after that you went to Mrs. Deering?" "I was with her three years," said Anne quickly. "Her address is Marsh Dene, Little Hembury, Devon." "I see," said Battle. "So you are now twenty-five, Miss Meredith. Now, there's just one thing morthe name and address of a couple of people in Cheltenham who knew you and your father." Anne supplied him with these. "Now, about this irip to Switzerland where you met Mr. Shaitana. Did you go alone there--or was Miss Dawes here with you?" "We went out together. We joined some other people. There was a. party of eight." "Tell me about your meeting with Mr. Shaitana." Anne crinkled her brows. "There's really nothing to tell. He was just there. We knew him in the way you do know people in a hotel. He got first prize at the Fancy Dress Ball. He went as Mephistopheles." Superintendent Battle sighed. "Yes, that always was his favourite effect." "He really was marvellous," said Rhoda. "He hardly had to make-up at all." The superintendent looked from one girl to the other. "Which of you two young ladies knew him best?" Anne hesitated. It was Rhoda who answered. "Both the same to begin with. Awfully little, that is. You see, our crowd was the skiing lot, and we were off doing runs most days and dancing together in the evenings. But then Shaitana seemed to take rather a fancy to Anne. You know, went out of his way to pay her compliments, and all that. We ragged her about it, rather." "I just think he did it to annoy me," said Anne. "Because I didn't like him. I think it amused him to make me feel embarrassed." Rhoda said, laughing: "We told Anne it would be a nice rich marriage for her. She got simply wild with us." "Perhaps," said Battle, "you'd give me the names of the other people in your party?" "You aren't what I'd call a trustful man," said Rhoda. "Do you think that every word we're telling you is downright lies?" Superintendent Battle twinkled. "I'm going to make quite sure it isn't, anyway," he said. "You are suspicious," said Rhoda. She scribbled some names on a piece of paper and gave it to him. Battle rose. "Well, thank you very much, Miss Meredith," he said. "As Miss Dawes says, you seem to have led a particularly blameless life. I don't think you need worry much. It's odd the way Mr. Shaitana's manner changed to you. You'll excuse my asking, but he didn't ask you to marry him--or-er--pester you with attentions of another kind?" "He didn't try to seduce her," said Rhoda helpfully. "If that's what you mean."Anne was blushing. "Nothing of the kind," she said. "He was always most polite and and-- formal. It was just his elaborate manners that made me uncomfortable." "And little things he said or hinted?" "Yes-at least--no. He never hinted things." "Sorry. These lady-killers do sometimes. Well, good-night, Miss Meredith. Thank you very much. Excellent coffee. Good-night, Miss Dawes." "There," said Rhoda as Anne came back into the room after shutting the front door after Battle. "That's over, and not so very terrible. He's a nice fatherly man, and he evidently doesn't suspect you in the least. It was all ever so much better than I expected." Anne sank down with a sigh. "It was really quite easy," she said. "It was silly of me to work myself up so. I thought he'd try to browbeat me--like K.C. s on the stage." "He looks sensible," said Rhoda. "He'd know well enough you're not a murdering kind of female." She hesitated and then said: "I say, Anne, you didn't mention being at Croftways. Did you forget?" Anne said slowly: "I didn't think it counted. I was only there a few months. And there's no one to ask about me there. I can write and tell him if you think it matters; but I'm sure it doesn't. Let's leave it." "Right, if you say so." Rhoda rose and turned on the wireless. A raucous voice said: "You have just heard the Black Nubians play 'Why do you tell me lies, Baby?'"
第十四章 第三位访客
第十四章 第三位访客

巴特探长在六点左右抵达瓦林福。他打算先听些无伤大雅的当地闲话，才去见安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐。 要收集已有的资料并不难。探长并未明确说一句话，却让人对他的阶级和职业有了好几种不同的印象。 至少有两个人信心十足说他是一位伦敦来的建筑师，远道来勘察别墅要添盖的新侧厢；由另外一个人口中你又听说他是"周末度假者之一，想租间带家俱的别墅"，还有两个人则一口咬定他是硬场地网球公司的代表。探长获取的情报十分有利。 文顿别墅？是的，不错－－在马伯瑞路，不可能找不到。是的，住着两位年轻的姑娘；达威斯小姐和梅瑞迪斯小姐。亲切又漂亮的小姐，文文静静的。住了好几年？噢，不没那么久，才两年多。她们在九月季搬来。房子是向皮克斯吉而先生买的。他太太去世后，他不常使用那栋别墅。 提供消息给巴特探长的人没听说过她们是诺森伯兰人。他以为她们来自伦敦。她们在附近颇受欢迎，只是有些人比较守旧，认为两位年轻的姑娘不该单独住。不过她们很文静，周末不乱开鸡尾酒会。露达小姐雄赳赳的，梅瑞迪斯小姐很安静。是的，付钱的是达威斯小姐，她比较有钱。 探长问来问去，终于找到定时去文顿别墅为小姐们理家的爱斯特威尔太太。爱斯特威尔太太很健谈。 "噢，不，先生，我不认为她们想卖房子。不会这么快吧。她们两年前才搬进去。我从开始就替她们干活儿，是的，先生。我的工作时间是八点到十二点。亲切又活泼的小姐，随时爱说笑，或者找找乐子，一点都不傲慢。 "当然啦，先生，我可不敢说这一位是否就是你认识的达威斯小姐－－我意思是指同一家人。我想她家在德文郡。她不时收到亲友寄来的奶油膏，说她见了想起家乡，所以我认为一定是如此。 "你说得不错，先生，现在很多年轻的小姐得自己工作赚钱谋生，真可悲。这两位小姐说不上富裕，但是日子过得很愉快。当然啦，达威斯小姐有钱。安妮小姐可以说是她的侍伴。别墅是达威斯小姐的。 "我不太敢确定安妮小姐是什么地方人。我听她提过维特导，还知道她不喜欢英格兰北部，而且她和露达小姐曾一起在德文郡待过，因为我听她们拿丘陵开过玩笑，又谈过美丽的小海湾和海滩。" 她滔滔不绝说下去。巴特探长不时在心里记下要点。后来小簿子上便摘录了一两个神秘的字句。 那天晚上八点半，他走上文顿别墅门前的小径。有一位身穿橘红色闷光印花罩袍的高个子黑发女郎来开门。 巴特探长问道："梅瑞迪斯小姐住在这儿吧？"他的外表象木头，有军人风采。 "是的，她住在这儿。" "我想跟她谈谈，拜托。我是巴特探长。" 对方立即猛瞪他一眼。 "进来吧，"露达•达威斯由门口退后一步说。 安妮•梅瑞迪斯坐在火边一张舒服的椅子上啜饮咖啡。她穿着绣花的法国皱纱睡袍。 露达请客人进屋说："是巴特探长。" 安妮站起身，伸手上前。 巴特说："现在来拜望稍嫌太晚了。不过我希望你在在家，而今天天气很好。" 安妮满面笑容。"探长，你要不要喝点咖啡？露达，再拿一个杯子吧。" "噢，多谢，梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 安妮说："我们自觉泡出来的咖啡很棒哩。" 她指一指一张椅子，巴特探长坐下来。露达拿来一个杯子，安妮为客人倒咖啡。炉火噼啪响，花瓶里有花，给探长留下甚佳的印象。 愉快的家居气氛。安妮似乎很沉着，很自在；倒是另外一个女孩子一直兴致勃勃盯着他。  "我们一直等你来，"安妮说。 她的语气似乎含有斥责的意味，仿佛说："你为什么冷落了我？" "抱歉，梅瑞迪斯小姐，我有许多例行公事要办。" "结果满意吧？" "不太满意，但是总得做呀。我可以说把罗勃兹医师彻头彻尾查清楚了。洛瑞玛太太也一样。现在同样来调查你，梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 安妮含笑说："我准备好了。" 露达问道："德斯帕少校呢？" 巴特说："噢，我不会漏掉他的，我可以向你保证。" 他放下咖啡杯，望着安妮。她在椅子上坐直一点。"探长，我完全准备好了。你想知道什么？" "噢，约略谈谈你自己吧，梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 安妮笑着说："我是品行端正的人。" 露达说："她生活无可非议，这一点我可以保证。" 巴特探长欣然说："咦，太好了。那你跟梅瑞迪斯小姐认识很久喽？" 露达说："我们一起上学。安妮，感觉中象是好久好久以前的事了，对不对？" 巴特咯咯笑道："我猜古远得几乎想不起来了。喏，梅瑞迪斯小姐，我恐怕得象护照申请表一样，一项一项来。" "我生在－－"安妮说。 露达插嘴说："父母穷困，却是正直的人。" 巴特探长举手责备她。他说，"喏，喏，小姐。" 安妮一本正经说："露达宝贝。这是正经事。" "对不起，"露达说。 "梅瑞迪斯小姐，你生在－－什么地方？" "印度的魁塔。" "啊，是的，你的亲友是军人？" "是的，家父生前是约翰•梅瑞迪斯少校。家母在我十一岁那年去世。我十五岁那年，父亲退休，到契尔登汉居住。他在我十八岁去世，没留下钱财。" 巴特点头表示同情。 "我猜对你是很大的打击。" "相当厉害。我素来知道我们不富裕，可是发现一文钱都没有－－咦，那又不同了。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐，你怎么办？" "我只得找份工作。我的教育程度不高，人又不精明。我不会打字速记之类的。一位住在契尔登汉的朋友安排我在她的朋友家做事－－假日带两个小男孩，平时帮忙做点家务。" "请问他们姓什么？" "艾尔顿太太，住在梵特诺的落叶松林。我在那儿住了几年，后来艾尔顿一家出国了。于是我转到一位迪林太太家。" 露达插嘴说："就是我姑姑。" "是的，露达替我找了那份工作。我很高兴。露达常常来，有时候留宿，我们玩得很开心。"  "你在那边是什么身分，侍伴吗？" "是的，等于如此。" 露达说："其实更象下级园丁。" 她解释道："我姑姑爱蜜丽对园艺十分着迷。安妮大部分时间都在除草或种球根。" "后来你离开迪林太太？" "她的身体愈来愈差，不得不请正规的护士。" 露达说："她患了癌症。可怜的人儿，她得用吗啡之类的药。" 安妮说："她对我很好。我临别非常伤心。" 露达说："当时我正在找一间洋房，需要人跟我同住。爹再娶了－－跟我合不来。我请安妮陪我来这边，此后她就一直在这儿。" 巴特说："噢，你的一生好象无懈可击。我们把日期弄个清楚。你说你在艾尔顿太太家住了两年。现在她的地址呢？" "她在巴勒斯坦。她丈夫在那边担任政府官职－－我无法确定是什么职务。" "啊，好的，我可以马上查明。后来你就到迪林太太家？" 安妮连忙说："我在她家住了三年。她的地址是德文郡小汉伯瑞城的迪恩沼地。" 巴特说："我明白了。原来你今年二十五岁，梅瑞迪斯小姐。还有一件事－－请说出两个认识你和令尊的契尔登汉人的姓名和地址。" 安妮遵命照办。 "现在谈谈瑞士之旅－－你在那边认识夏塔纳先生。你是一个人去呢，还是有达威斯小姐同行？" "我们结伴出游，和另外几个人在一起。共有八个人。" "谈谈你和夏塔纳先生认识的经过吧。" 安妮皱起眉毛。"真的没什么好说的。他就在那边嘛。我们认识他，就跟一般人在旅馆认识的情形差不多。他得到化妆舞会的首奖。他扮的是'佛士德'剧中的邪魔米菲斯托佛勒斯。"  巴特探长叹了一口气。 "是的，他素来爱装那种样子。" 露达说："他扮得真妙，简直用不着化妆。" 探长闲话打量两位姑娘。"你们两位小姐哪一位跟他比较熟？" 安妮犹豫不决，结果由露达回话。 "开头两个人差不多，跟他都不熟。你知道我们一群人是滑雪队，白天大抵出去玩，晚上一起跳舞。可是夏塔纳似乎相当喜欢安妮。你知道，他特别来向她致意。我们都为此取笑她。"  安妮说："我倒认为他是存心气我，因为我不喜欢他。他害我受窘，似乎觉得很好玩。" 露达笑道："我们告诉安妮，这是一门富裕的好姻缘，她气我们简直气疯了。" 巴特说："你能不能把同行的另外几个人的名字告诉我？" 露达说："你真不相信人。你以为我们跟你说的都是谎话？" 巴特探长眨眨眼睛说："总之，我要去确定这不是谎言。" "你真多疑，"露达说。 她在一张纸上草草写下几个人名交给他。巴特站起来。 他说："好啦，多谢，梅瑞迪斯小姐。达威斯小姐说得不错，你的一生似乎无懈可击。我想你用不着太担心。夏塔纳先生对你态度改变了，真奇怪。恕我多问，他没向你求婚－－或者－－献另一种殷勤？" 露达拔刀相助说："他并未试图诱惑她，你大概是指这个意思吧。"  安妮满面羞红。她说："没有这一类的事。他老是彬彬有礼－－而且－－很拘泥。就是他那种特意摆出的客套使我很不舒服。" "他说出或暗示过某些小事？" "是的－－至少－－不，他从未暗示什么。" "抱歉。这些色狼有时候会如此。好啦，晚安，梅瑞迪斯小姐，多谢。咖啡棒极了。晚安，达威斯小姐。" 巴特走后，安妮把前门关上，走回房间，露达说："喏，事情过去了，不太可怕嘛。他是温和如慈父的人，他对你显然一点疑忌都没有。事情比我预料中好多了。" 安妮叹口气坐下来说："事情真的很轻松，我这么紧张，未免太傻了。我以为他会威吓我－－象舞台上的'王室律师'一样。" 露达说："他看来很讲理。他该知道你不是那种会杀人的女性。" 她犹豫片刻才说："嘿，安妮，你没说你在克罗福特威斯待过。你是不是忘了？" 安妮缓缓说："我以为那不算数。我只在那边住过几个月。而且那边没有对象可探听我的资料。你如果认为要紧，我可以写信告诉他，不过我相信没关系。我们就这样算了吧。" "既然你这么说，好吧。" 露达起身去开收音机。 一个沙哑的嗓音说："你们刚刚听完努比亚黑人剧《宝贝，你为什么要对我撒谎？》"
CHAPTER 15 Major Despard
CHAPTER 15 Major Despard

Major Despard came out of the Albany, turned sharply into Regent Street and jumped on a bus. It was the quiet time of day--the top of the bus had very few seats occupied. Despard made his way forward and sat down on the front seat. He had jumped on the bus while it was going. Now it came to a halt, took up passengers and made its way once more up Regent Street. A second traveller climbed the steps, made his way forward and sat down in the front seat on the other side. Despard did not notice the new-comer, but after a few minutes a tentative voice murmured: "It is a good view of London, is it not, that one gets from the top of a bus?" Despard turned his head. He looked puzzled for a moment, then his face cleared. "I beg your pardon, M. Poirot. I didn't see it was you. Yes, as you say, one has a good bird's-eye view of the world from here. It was better, though, in the old days, when there wasn't all this caged-in glass business."Poirot sighed.
"Tout de rru2me, it was not always agreeable in the wet weather when theinside was full. And there is much wet weather in this country.""Rain? Rain never did any harm to any one."
"You are in error," said Poirot. "It leads often to afluxion de poitrine.' Despard smiled.
"I see you belong to the well-wrapped-up school, M. Poirot."Poirot was indeed well equipped against any treachery of an autumn day. He wore a greatcoat and a muffler.
"Rather odd, running into you like this," said Despard.
He did not see the smile that the muffler concealed. There was nothing odd in this encounter. Having ascertained a likely hour for Despard to leave his rooms, Poirot had been waiting for him. He had prudently not risked leaping on the bus, but he had trotted after it to its next stopping-place and boarded it there.
"True. We have not seen each other since the evening at Mr. Shaitana's," he replied.
"Aren't you taking a hand in that business?" asked Despard.
Poirot scratched his ear delicately.
"I reflect," he said. "I reflect a good deal. To run to and fro, to make theinvestigations, that, no. It does not suit my age, my temperament, or my figure." Despard said unexpectedly:
"Reflect, eh? Well, you might do worse. There's too much rushing about nowadays. If people sat tight and thought about a thing before they tackled it, there'd be less mess-ups than there are.""Is that your procedure in life, Major Despard?""Usually," said the other simply. "Get your bearings, figure out your route,weigh up the pros and cons, make your decision--and stick to it."His mouth set grimly.
"And, after that, nothing will turn you from your path, eh?" asked Poirot.
"Oh, I don't say that. No use in being pig-headed over things. If you've made a mistake, admit it.""But I imagine that you do not often make a mistake, Major Despard." "We all make mistakes, M. Poirot.""Some of us," said Poirot with a certain coldness, possibly due to the pronoun the other had used, "make less than others."Despard looked at him, smiled slightly and said:
"Don't you ever have a failure, M. Poirot?"
"The last time was twenty-eight years ago," said Poirot with dignity. "Andeven then, there were circumstancesbut no matter.""That seems a pretty good reord," said Despard.
He added: "What about Shaitana's death? That doesn't count, I suppose, since it isn't officially your business.""It is not my business--no. But, all the same, it offends my amour propre. I consider it an impertinence, you comprehend, for a murder to be committed under my very nose by some one who mocks himself at my ability to solve it!""Not under your nose only," said Despard dryly. "Under the nose of the Criminal Investigation Department also.""That was probably a bad mistake," said Poirot gravely. "The good square Superintendent Battle, he may look wooden, but he is not wooden in the head--not at all.""I agree," said Despard. "That stolidity is a pose. He's a very clever and able officer.""And I think he is very active in the case." "Oh, he's active enough. See a nice quiet soldierly-looking fellow on one of the back seats?" Poirot looked over his shoulder. "There is no one here now but ourselves." "Oh, well, he's inside, then. He never loses me. Very efficient fellow. Varies his appearance, too, from time to time. Quite artistic about it." "Ah, but that would not deceive you. You have the very quick and accurate eye." "I never forget a face even a black one--and that's a lot more than most people can say.' "You are just the person I need," said Poirot. "What a chance, meeting you today! I need some one with a good eye and a good memory. Malheureusement the two seldom go together. I have asked the Dr. Roberts a question, without result, and the same with Madame Lorrimer. Now, I will try you and see if I get what I want. Cast your mind back to the room in which you played cards at Mr. Shaitana's, and tell me what you remember of it." Despard looked puzzled. "I don't quite understand." "Give me a description of the room--the furnishings--the objects in it." "I don't know that I'm much of a hand at that sort of thing," said Despard slowly. "It was a rotten sort of room--to my mind. Not a man's room at all. A lot of brocade and silk and stuff. Sort of room a fellow like Shaitana would have." "But to particularise " Despard shook his head.
"Afraid I didn't notice He'd got some good rugs. Two Bokharas and three or four really good Persian ones, including a Hamadan and a Tabriz. Rather a good eland head--no, that was in the hall. From Rowland Ward's, I expect." "You do not think that the late Mr. Shaitana was one to go out and shoot wild beasts?" "Not he. Never potted anything but sitting game, I'll bet. What else was there? I'm sorry to fail you, but I really can't help much. Any amount of knickknacks lying about. Tables were thick with them. Only thing I noticed was a rather jolly idol. Easter Island, I should say. Highly polished wood. You don't see many of them. There was some Malay stuff, too. No, I'm afraid I can't help you." "No matter," said Poirot, looking slightly crestfallen. He went on: "Do you know, Mrs. Lorrimer, she has the most amazing card memory! She could tell me the bidding and play of nearly every hand. It was astonishing." Despard shrugged his shoulders. "Some women are like that. Because they play pretty well all day long, I suppose." "You could not do it, eh?" The other shook his head. "I just remember a couple of hands. One where I could have got game in diamonds--and Roberts bluffed me out of it. Went down himself, but we didn't double him, worse luck. I remember a no trumper, too. Tricky business every card wrong. We went down a couplelucky not to have gone down more." "Do you play much bridge, Major Despard?" "No, I'm not a regular player. It's a good game, though." "You prefer it to poker?""I do personally. Poker's too much of a gamble."Poirot said thoughtfully:
"I do not think Mr. Shaitana played any game any card game, that is.""There's only one game that Shaitana played consistently," said Despardgrimly.
"And that?"
"A lowdown game."
Poirot was silent for a minute, then he said:
"Is it that you know that? Or do you just think it?"Despard went brick red.
"Meaning one oughtn't to say things without giving chapter and verse? Isuppose that's true. Well, it's accurate enough. I happen to know. On the otherhand, I'm not prepared to give chapter and verse. Such information as I've gotcame to me privately."
"Meaning a woman or women are concerned?"
"Yes. Shaitana, like the dirty dog he was, preferred to deal with women.""You think he was a blackmailer? That is interesting."Despard shook his head.
"No, no, you've misunderstood me. In a way, Shaitana was a blackmailer, butnot the common or garden sort. He wasn't after money. He was a spiritualblackmailer, if there can be such a thing."
"And he got out of it--what?"
"He got a kick out of it. That's the only way I can put it. He got a thrill out ofseeing people quail and flinch. I suppose it made him feel less of a louse and moreof a man. And it's a very effective pose with women. He'd only got to hint that heknew everything--and they'd start telling him a lot of things that perhaps he didn'tknow. That would tickle his sense of humour. Then he'd strut about in hisMephistophelian attitude of 'I know everything! I am the great Shaitana!' The manwas an ape!"
"So you think that he frightened Miss Meredith that way," said Poirot slowly.
"Miss Meredith?" Despard stared. "I wasn't thinking of her. She isn't the kindto be afraid of a man like Shaitana."
"Pardon. You meant Mrs. Lorrimer."
"No, no, no. You misunderstand me. I was speaking generally. It wouldn't beeasy to frighten Mrs. Lorrimer. And she's not the kind of woman who you canimagine having a guilty secret. No, I was not thinking of any one in particular.""It was the general method to which you referred?"".Exactly."
"There is no doubt," said Poirot slowly, "that what you call a Dago often has avery clever understanding of women. He knows how to approach them. He worms secrets out of {hem " He paused. Despard broke in impatiently: "It's absurd. The man was a mountebank--nothing, really dangerous about him. And yet women were afraid of him. Ridiculously so. He started up suddenly. "Hallo, I've overshot the mark. Got too interested in what we were discussing. Good-bye, M. Poirot. Look down and you'll see my faithful shadow leave the bus when I do." He hurried to the back and down the steps. The conductor's bell jangled. But a double pull sounded before it had time to stop.
Looking down to the street below, Poirot noticed Despard striding back along the pavement. He did not trouble to pick out the following figure. Something else was interesting him. "No one in particular," he murmured to himself. "Now, I wonder."
第十五章 德斯帕少校
第十五章 德斯帕少校

德斯帕少校拐出阿本尼，急转入摄政街，跳上一辆公车。 现在是一天中比较安静的时刻；公车顶层很少人坐。德斯帕向前走，选个前座坐下来。 他是在车子行进间跳上车的。现在车停了，上来几位乘客，车子沿摄政街继续前进。 又有一位乘客爬上阶梯往前走，坐在前座的另一边。 德斯帕没有注意新上来的人，几分钟之后，有个声音试探般咕哝："由车顶俯视伦敦真好看，对不对？" 德斯帕回头，一时面露疑惑，接着表情才豁然开朗。 "白罗先生，请原谅，我没看出是你。是的，你说得不错，由这边可以好好鸟瞰世界。以前没装这种玻璃框的时候更棒。" 白罗叹了一口气。"不过客满的下雨天可不见得舒服喔。本国的雨天相当多。"  德斯帕微微一笑。"白罗先生，我看你属于裹紧身子的一派。" 白罗的确裹得好好的，以防备秋天的变化。他穿一件大外套，裹一条围巾。 德斯帕说："这样跟你相逢，怪怪的。" 他没有注意到围巾下隐藏的微笑。这次邂逅一点都不奇怪。白罗确知德斯帕出门的大概时刻，特意等着他。他很谨慎，不冒险跳上车，却跟着车子走到下一站才上车。  他回答说："对，自从那天晚上在夏塔纳先生家一别，我们就没再见过面。" "你不是参加办案吗？"德斯帕问道。 白罗轻轻抓耳朵。 他说："我思考，不断思考。至于跑来跑去调查，我可不干。跟我的年龄、脾气或体态不相符。" 没想到德斯帕居然说："思考，呃？你这样还不坏。现在赶来赶去的人太多了。如果大家都安坐着，考虑好事态才进行，那么问题一定比现在少。" "德斯帕少校，这就是你的人生程序吗？" 对方说："通常如此。找出方位，算出路线，衡量正反两面的情势，下定决心－－然后坚持到底。"他的嘴巴冷冷合起来。 "然后任何因素都不能使你改变方向，呃？"白罗问他。 "噢！我没那么说。太顽固是没有用的。你若犯了错误，就得承认。" "我想你不常犯错，德斯帕少校。" "白罗先生，我们都会犯错。" 大概因为对方用了"我们"这个代名词，白罗冷冷地说："有些人犯的错误比别人少。" 德斯帕望着他，微微一笑说："白罗先生，你没有失败过吗？" 白罗庄重地说："上回失败是二十八年前的事了。连那一回也有些隐情－－不过没关系。" 德斯帕说："这个纪录似乎很棒。"他又说："夏塔纳的命案呢？我猜不算，因为职务上不归你管。" "不归我管－－是的。可是照样冲犯了我的自尊。你明白，有个命案在我眼前发生－－有人嘲笑我的破案能力，我认为十分无礼！" 德斯帕淡然说："不只在你面前发生，也在'犯罪侦察部'人员面前。" 白罗一本正经说："这可能是最严重的错误。规规矩矩的巴特探长外貌虽象木头，脑袋可不笨－－才不哩。" 德斯帕说："我有同感，他那种呆相是摆出来的，其实他是精明能干的警官。" "我想他办这个案子十分积极。" "噢，他够积极的。有没有看到后座一个外表象军人的家伙？" 白罗回头望。 "这边只有我们俩。" "噢，好，那他大概在里侧。他从来不放过我。效率真高。还不时改变形貌哩。技巧不错。"  "啊，可惜骗不了你。你的眼光敏捷又准确。" "我见过一张面孔绝不会忘记－－连黑人的面孔也不例外，这一点比大多数人强。" 白罗说："你正是我需要的人。今天碰到你真巧！我需要一个眼力好、记性好的人。不幸两者很难兼备。我曾问过罗勃兹医生一个问题，没有结果，问洛瑞玛太太也一样。现在我试试你，看能不能得到我要的资料。请你回想你在夏塔纳家玩牌的房间，说说你记得的内容。" 德斯帕显得困惑。"我不大懂。" "描述一下房间的情形－－里面的家俱啦、物品啦。" 德斯帕慢慢地说："我不知道自己擅不擅于记这种事情。在我的印象中，那个房间相当腐化，根本不象人住的房间。有好多锦缎和丝织品之类的。夏塔纳那种人的房间才会如此。" "请说明细节－－" 德斯帕摇摇头。"我好象没注意。他有几张好地毯。两张波克哈拉产的，还有三、四张上好的波斯地毯，其中一张产自哈马丹，一张产自塔布里斯。有个很棒的大羚羊头－－不，那是摆在大厅里。我想是从罗兰－瓦德商店买来的。""你认为已故的夏塔纳先生不可能出去猎野兽？" "他不会的。我打赌他除了伏窝的猎物，什么都没射击过。还有什么别的？抱歉让你失望，我真的帮不上忙。小装饰品到处都是，茶几上都摆满了。我只注意到一个很有趣的玩偶。我想来自伊斯特岛吧；精巧的木制品，不常见的。还有一些马来货。不，我恐怕帮不上忙。" 白罗显得有点泄气说："没关系。" 他又说："你知不知道洛瑞玛太太记牌的本事真高明！几乎每圈的叫法和打法她都说得出来。叫人震惊。" 德斯帕耸耸肩。 "有些女人就是这样。我想是因为他们牌技好又整天打的关系吧。" "你办不到，呃？" 对方摇摇头。 "我只记得两圈。有一圈我本来可以靠方块取胜－－被罗勃兹搞砸了。他自己落败，可惜我们没有叫加倍，运气不好。我还记得有一圈'无王'牌。－－每张都不对劲。我们落败两墩－－幸亏没输更多。" "德斯帕少校，你常不常打桥牌？" "不，我不常打。不过桥牌是好游戏。" "你认为比扑克牌好？" "我个人认为如此。扑克牌的赌博意味太浓了。" 白罗若有所思说："我想夏塔纳先生什么游戏都玩儿－－我是指纸牌游戏。" 德斯帕狠狠说："夏塔纳只爱玩一种把戏，不肯歇手。" "什么？" "一种下流把戏。" 白罗沉默一分钟才说："你是真知道，还是这么想而已？" 德斯帕的面孔化为砖红色。"你意思是说，没有根据就不能乱说？我想这是真话。事情相当准确哩，我恰好知道。不过我不准备举证。我手上的情报是秘密得来的。" "你是说牵扯到一位或数位女人？" 是的，夏塔纳那只下流狗，喜欢对付女人。" "你认为他勒索？这倒有趣。" 德斯帕摇摇头："不，不，你误会了。由某一方面来说，夏塔纳也算勒索，却不是普通型或者花园型。要的不是钱。如果精神上的勒索成立的话，他正是那种人。" "他从中得到－－什么？" "得到极度的快感。我只能这么说。他最爱看人害怕畏缩。我想这一来他就不觉得自己象跳蚤而自觉象男子汉了。这种姿态对女人很有效。他只要暗示说他样样知道，她们就会告诉他一大堆他可能不知道的事情。这一来更挑起他的幽默感。于是他摆出'我知道一切！我是伟大的夏塔纳！'那种姿态，趾高气扬。那人简直象猩猩！" 白罗慢慢说："你认为他以这个方式来吓梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 德斯帕瞪眼说："梅瑞迪斯小姐？我没想起她。她不会怕夏塔纳那种人。" "对不起。你是指洛瑞玛太太。" "不，不，不，你误会了。我只是泛论一切。要吓洛瑞玛太太可不简单喔。何况她不象有罪恶隐私的女人。不我并未特别想起某一个人。" "你是指一般的方法？" "对极了。" 白罗慢慢说："那种男人对女人一定有相当精辟的了解。他逐步套出她们的秘密－－" 他停下来，德斯帕焦急地插嘴。 "荒唐嘛。那个人是牛皮大王－－其实一点都不危险。可是女人都怕他。真可笑。" 他突然跳起身。 "嘿，我过站了。对我们讨论的问题兴趣太浓。再见，白罗先生。往下看，我下车的时候，盯梢的人也会下车。" 他匆匆到后面，下了阶梯。车掌的铃声响了。铃声未息，又有人拉铃。  白罗俯视下面的街道，发现德斯帕沿着人行道大步往回走。他倒不费心去认后面的人影。他心中还有别的事情。他喃喃自语道："没有一个人特别。现在我想不通。"
CHAPTER 16 The EvidenCe of Elsie Batt
CHAPTER 16 The EvidenCe of Elsie Batt
Sergeant O'Connor was unkindly nicknamed by his colleagues at the Yard: "The Maidservant's Prayer." There was no doubt that he was an extremely handsome man. Tall, erect, broad-shouldered, it was less the regularity of his features than the roguish and daredevil spark in his eye which made him so irresistible to the fair sex. It was indubitable that Sergeant O'Connor got results, and got them quickly. So rapid was he, that only four days after the murder of Mr. Shaitana, Sergeant O'Connor was sitting in the three-and-sixpenny seats at the Willy Nilly Revue side by side with Miss Elsie Batt, late parlourmaid to Mrs. Craddock of 117 North Audley Street. Having laid his line of approach carefully, Sergeant O'Connor was just launching the great offensive. " .Reminds me," he was saying, "of the way one of my old governors used to carry on. Name of Craddock. He was an odd cuss, if you like." "Craddock," said Elsie. "I was with some Craddocks once." "Well, that's funny. Wonder whether they were the same?" "Lived in North Audley Street, they did," said Elsie. "My lot were going to London when I left them," said O'Connor promptly. "Yes, I believe it was North Audley Street. Mrs. Craddock was rather a one for the gents." Elsie tossed her head. "I'd no patience with her. Always finding fault and grumbling. Nothing you did right." "Her husband got some of it, too, didn't he?" "She was always complaining he neglected her--that he didn't understand her. And she was always saying how bad her health was and gasping and groaning. Not ill at all, if you ask me." O'Connor slapped his knee. "Got it. Wasn't there something about her and some doctor? A bit too thick or something?" "You mean Dr. Roberts? He was a nice gentleman, he was." "You girls, you're all alike," said Sergeant O'Connor. "The moment a man's a bad lot, all the girls stick up for him. I know his kind." "No, you' don't, and you're all wrong about him. There wasn't anything of that kind about him. Wasn't his fault, was it, if Mrs. Craddock was always sending for him? What's a doctor to do? If you ask me, he didn't think nothing of her at all, except as a patient. It was all her doing. Wouldn't leave him alone, she wouldn't."
"That's all very well, Elsie. Don't mind me calling you Elsie, do you? Feel as though I'd known you all my life." "Well, you haven't! Elsie, indeed." She tossed her head. "Oh, very well, Miss Batt." He gave her a glance. "As I was saying, that's all very well, but the husband, he cut up rough, all the same, didn't he?" "He was a bit ratty one day," admitted Elsie. "But, ffyou ask me, he was ill at the time. He died just after you know." "I remember--died of something queer, didn't he?" "Something Japanese, it was all from a new shaving brush he'd got. Seems awful, doesn't it, that they're not more careful? I've not fancied anything Japanese since." "Buy British, that's my motto," said Sergeant O'Connor sententiously. "And you were saying he and the doctor had a row?" Elsie nodded, enjoying herself as -she re-lived past scandals. "Hammer and tongs, they went at it," she said. "At least, the master did. Dr. Roberts was ever so quiet. Just said, 'Nonsense.' And, 'What have you got into your head?'" "This was at the house, I suppose?" "Yes. She'd sent for him. And then she and the master had words, and in the middle of it Dr. Roberts arrived, and the master went for him." "What did he say exactly?" "Well, of course, I wasn't supposed to hear. It was all in the Missus's bedroom. I thought something was up, so I got the dustpan and did the stairs. I wasn't going to miss anything." Sergeant O'Connor heartily concurred in this sentiment, reflecting how fortunate it was that Elsie was being approached unofficially. On interrogation by Sergeant O'Connor of the Police, she would have virtuously protested that she had not overheard anything at all. "As I say," went on Elsie, "Dr. Roberts, he was very quiet--the master was doing all the shouting." "What was he saying?" asked O'Connor, for the second time approaching the vital point. "Abusing of him proper," said Elsie with relish. "How do you mean?" Would the girl never come to actual words and phrases? "Well, I didn't understand a lot of it," admitted Elsie. "There were a lot of long words, 'unprofessional conduct,' and 'taking advantage,' and things like that--and I heard him say he'd get Dr. Roberts struck off the Medical Register, would it be? Something like that." "That's right," said O'Connor. "Complain to the Medical Council." "Yes, he said something like that. And the Missus was going on in sort of hysterics, saying, 'You never cared for me. You neglected me. You left me alone.' And I heard her say that Dr. Roberts had been an angel of goodness to her. "And then the doctor, he came through into the dressing-room with the master and shut the door of the bedroom--I heard it--and he said quite plain: "'My good man, don't you realise your wife's hysterical? She doesn't know what she's saying. To tell you the truth, it's been a very difficult and trying case, and I'd have thrown it up long ago if I'd thought it was con--con--some long word; oh, yes, consistent--that was it--consistent with my duty.' That's what he said. He said something about not overstepping a boundary, too--something between doctor and patient. He got the master quietened a bit, and then he said:
"'You'll be late at your off]ce, you know. You'd better be off. Just think things over quietly. I think you'll realise that the whole business is a mare's nest. I'll just wash my hands here before I go on to my next case. Now, you think it over, my dear fellow. I can assure you that the whole thing arises out of your wife's disordered imagination.'
"And the master, he said, 'I don't know what to think.'
"And he come out--and, of course, I was brushing hard--but he never even noticed me. I thought afterwards he looked ill. The doctor, he was whistling quite cheerily and washing his hands in the dressing-room, where there was hot and cold laid on. And presently he came out, too, with his bag, and he spoke to me very nicely and cheerily, as he always did, and he went down the stairs, quite cheerful and gay and his usual self. So, you see, I'm quite sure as he hadn't done anything wrong. It was all her."
"And then Craddock got this anthrax?"
"Yes, I think he'd got it already. The mistress, she nursed him very devoted, but he died. Lovely wreaths there was at the funeral."
"And afterwards? Did Dr. Roberts come to the house again?"
"No, he didn't, Nosey! You've got some grudge against him. I tell you there was nothing in it. If there were he'd have married her when the master was dead, wouldn't he? And 'he never did. No such fool. He'd taken her measure all right. She used to ring him up, though, but somehow he was never in. And then she sold
the house, and we all got our notices, and she went abroad to Egypt."
"And you didn't see Dr. Roberts in all that time?"
"No. She did, because she went to him to have this what do you call it?- 'noculation against the typhoid fever. She came back with her arm ever so sore with it. If you ask me, he made it clear to her then that there was nothing doing. She didn't ring him up no more, and she went off very cheerful with a lovely lot of new clothes--all light colours, although it was the middle of winter, but she said it would be all sunshine and hot out there."
"That's right," said Sergeant O'Connor. "It's too hot sometimes, I've heard. She died out there. You know that, I suppose?"
"No, indeed I didn't. Well, fancy that! She may have been worse than I thought, poor soul."
She added with a sigh:
"I wonder what they did with all that lovely lot of clothes. They're blacks out there, so they couldn't wear them."
"You'd have looked a treat in them, I expect," said Sergeant O'Connor. "Impudence," said Elsie.
"Well, you won't have my impudence much longer," said Sergeant O'Connor.
"I've got to go away on business for my firm."
"You going for long?"
"May be going abroad," said the Sergeant.
Elsie's face fell.
Though unacquainted with Lord Byron's famous poem, "I never loved a dear gazelle," etc., its sentiments were at that moment hers. She thought to herself:
"Funny how all the really attractive ones never come to anything. Oh, well, there's always Fred."
Which is gratifying, since it shows that the sudden incursion of Sergeant O'Connor into Elsie's life did not affect it permanently. "Fred" may even have been the gainer!
Cards on the Table 445
第十六章 爱西·贝特的证辞
第十六章 爱西•贝特的证辞
奥康诺巡官在苏格兰场被同事们谑称"女仆的祈祷书"。 他实在是一个美男子，体态又高又挺，肩膀很宽，女性迷上他与其说是为了他端整的轮廓，不如说是为了他淘气又大胆的眼神。奥康诺巡官行事必有结果，而且进展很快。 奥康诺巡官的速度真快，夏塔纳先生的命案才发生四天，他已经和"北奥黛莉街一一七号的克拉多克太太"的前任使女爱西•贝特小姐并肩坐在三先令六便士的座位上观赏威利•尼利的轻松歌剧了。 奥康诺巡官小心立好进行方向，开始大进攻。 他说："此剧叫我想起一位老主人的作风。他姓克拉多克，可以说是怪人。" 爱西说："克拉多克，我曾经在一户姓克拉多克的人家里帮佣。" "咦，那真好玩，不知道是不是同一位？" 爱西说："他们住在北奥黛莉街。" 奥康诺立即说："我离开雇主家的时候，他们正要搬去伦敦。是的，我相信就是北奥黛莉街。克拉多克太太叫绅士们吃不消。" 爱西甩甩头。 "我受不了她。老是挑毛病，发牢骚。人家做什么都不对。" "她丈夫也常受她埋怨吧，是不是？" "她老是抱怨说他冷落她－－不了解她。而且她常说自己身体不好，喘气呻吟。我觉得她根本没病！" 奥康诺拍拍膝盖。 "想起来了。她和一位医生不是有点瓜葛吗？太亲密之类的？" "你是指罗勃兹医生？他是亲切的绅士，真的。" 奥康诺巡官说："你们女孩子全都一样。只要某个男士是坏坯子，天下的女孩都替他辩护。我知道他是那种人。" "不，你不知道，你完全弄错了。他才不是那种人呢。克拉多克太太老派人请他来，这能怪他吗？医生要怎么办呢？告诉你，他只是把他当病人，根本不放在心上。一切都是她搞出来的。害他不得安宁。" "那就好，爱西－－不反对我叫你爱西吧？总觉得已经认识你一辈子似的。" "哼，你没认识我那么久。叫我爱西，哼！" 她甩甩头。 他瞥了她一眼。"噢，好吧，贝特小姐。刚刚说过，那就好，可是她丈夫一直发脾气，对不对？" 爱西承认说："有一天他脾气好大。不过我告诉你，他当时有病。你知道他过不久就死了。" "我记得－－死因离奇，对不对？" "是一种日本毛病－－由一把新买的剃胡刷感染而来的。他们不小心一点，真可怕，对不对？此后我就不喜欢日本的东西。" 奥康诺巡官精辟地说："买英国货，这是我的格言。你说他和医生吵过架？" 爱西点点头，把过去的是非说得活灵活现，自己很得意。她说："吵得好凶喔。至少男主人是这样。罗勃兹医生一向冷静，只说'胡扯！你想到哪里去了？'" "我猜是在家里发生的吧？" "是的。她派人请他来。接着她和男主人发生口角，吵到一半罗勃兹医生来了，男主人就上前找他。" "他究竟说了些什么？" "噢，我当然不该听。他们在女主人的卧房里吵。我认为出了问题，就拿起灰尘掸子去打扫楼梯。我不想错过好戏。" 奥康诺巡官衷心赞同她这种心境，庆幸自己用非官方的门径来接近爱西。奥康诺若以巡官的身分来问案，她一定会辩称她没偷听什么。 爱西继续说："我说过，罗勃兹医生很安静－－男主人则嚷个不停。" 奥康诺第二次逼问要点说："他说些什么？" "痛骂他一顿，"爱西津津有味说。 "你是指怎么骂法？" 这位姑娘难道不能说出确切的字句或片语吗？ 爱西承认说："咦，我不大懂。有些字汇很长，譬如'不守职业道德的行为' 和'利用……'之类的－－我听他说要使罗勃兹医生由《医学注册簿》上除名，可能吗？好象是这样子。" 奥康诺说："不错，可向医师公会告状。" "是的，他好象这么说过。女主人则一直神经兮兮说：'你从来不关心我。你冷落我。你让我孤零零度日。'我还听她说罗勃兹医生对她好得象天使。
"后来医生跟男主人走进更衣室，把卧房门关上了－－我听他说得明明白白：'老兄，你没发现尊夫人激动得神经兮兮？她不知道自己说什么。跟你说实话，她的病情很扎手，若非事－－事－－噢，对了事关我的职责，我早就撒手不管了。'他就是这么说的。他好象说医生和病人之间不要逾越了界限之类的。男主人安静下来，于是他说：'你上班会迟到。你还是走吧。静静考虑一下。你会发现这件事根本莫须有。我洗洗手就要去看下一个病人。你再考虑一下，朋友。我告诉你，事情全是尊夫人胡乱想象出来的。' "男主人说：'我不知道该怎么想。' "他出来了－－我用力洗刷，可是他根本没注意我。事后想一想，他好象有病容。医生高高兴兴吹口哨，在更衣室洗手，那边冷热水都有。接着他手持提袋出来，照例和颜悦色跟我说话，就跟平时一样高高兴兴走了。你敲，我确定他没做错什么。问题全在她。" "后来克拉多克患了炭疽热？" "是的，我想他已经染上了。女主人专心看护他，但他却死了。葬礼上有迷人的花圈。" "后来呢？罗勃兹医生有没有再到他们家？" "不，没有，好管闲事！你对他不满。我告诉你没什么问题。如果有，男主人死后他就会娶她，对不对？而他并没有娶他呀。才没那么傻呢。他好好衡量过她。她常打电话叫他，他就是不来。接着她卖掉房子，我们都收到解雇的通知，她便出国到埃及去了。" "那段时间你根本没见过罗勃兹医生。" "没有。可是她见过，因为她到他家去打－－什么来着－－伤寒预防针。她回来的时候手臂肿得好厉害。告诉你，他当时就告诉她不干了。她没再打电话叫他，倒高高兴兴带着一堆迷人的新衣裳出国－－虽然是冬天，衣裳却都是浅色的，她说那边阳光灿烂，天气很热。" 奥康诺巡官说："不错，听说有时候太热了。她死在那边。我想你知道吧？" "不，我真的不知道。咦，想想看！可怜儿，她也许比我想象中更糟糕。" 她叹口气说："不知道人家怎么处置那些漂亮的衣裳。那边的土著是黑人，不可能穿那种衣服。" 奥康诺巡官说："我想你穿一定很棒。" 爱西说："冒失鬼。" 奥康诺巡官说："好吧，我不会冒冒失失打扰你多久了。我得远行去办公司的事。" "你要走很久？" "也许会出国，"巡官说。 爱西的脸色一沉。 她虽然没拜读过拜伦爵士的诗《我从未爱上一头羚羊》，可是她的心情却和诗中所说的一样。她暗想：奇怪，真正迷人的对象总是没有结果。噢，算了，反正有福瑞德嘛。 奥康诺巡官突然闯进暗想的生命看来不会有长远的影响，现在她觉得福瑞德真讨人喜欢。说不定福瑞德会因此得到好处哩。
CHAPTER 17 The Evidence of Rhoda Dawes
CHAPTER 17 The Evidence of Rhoda Dawes

Rhoda Dawes came out of Debenham's and stood meditatively upon the pavement.
Indecision was written all over her face. It was an expressive face; each fleeting
emotion showed itself in a quickly varying expression.
Quite plainly at this moment Rhod,,a's face said, "Shall I or shan't I? I'd like to But perhaps I'd better not .... The commissionaire said, "Taxi, Miss?" to her, hopefully. Rhoda shook her head. A stout woman carrying parcels with an eager "shopping early for Christmas" expression on her face, cannoned into her severly, but still Rhoda stood stockstill, trying to make up her mind. Chaotic odds and ends of thought flashed through her mind. "After all, why shouldn't I? She asked me to--but perhaps it's just a thing she says to every one She doesn't mean it to be taken seriously Well, after all, Anne didn't want me. She made it quite clear she'd rather go with Major Despard to the solicitor man alone .... And why shouldn't she? I mean, three is a crowd .... And it isn't really any business of mine .... It isn't as though I particularly wanted to see Major Despard .... He is nice, though .... I think he must have fallen for Anne. Men don't take a lot of trouble unless they have .... I mean, it's never just kindness .... " A messenger boy bumped into Rhoda and said, "Beg pardon, Miss," in a reproachful tone. "Oh, dear," thought Rhode. "I can't go on standing here all day. Just because I'm such an idiot that I can't make up my mind I think that coat and skirt's going to be awfully nice. I wonder if brown would have been more useful than green? No, I don't think so. Well, come on, shall I go, or shan't I? Half-past three--it's quite a good timeI mean, it doesn't look as though I'm cadging a meal or anything. I might just go and look, anyway." She plunged across the road, turned to the right, and then to the left, up Harley Street, finally pausing by the block of flats always airily described by Mrs. Oliver as "all among the nursing homes." "Well, she can't eat me," thought Rhoda, and plunged boldly into the building. Mrs. Oliver's flat was on the top floor. A uniformed attendant whisked her up in a lift and decanted her on a smart new mat outside a bright green door. "This is awful," thought Rhoda. "Worse than dentists. I must go through with it now, though." Pink with embarrassment, she pushed the bell. The door was opened by an elderly maid. "Is ould I--is Mrs. Oliver at home?" asked Rhoda. The maid drew back, Rhoda entered, she was shown into a very untidy drawing-room. The maid said: "What name shall I say, please?" "Oh--er--Miss Dawes--Miss Rhoda Dawes."
The maid withdrew. After what seemed to Rhoda about a hundred years, but
was really exactly a minute and forty-five seconds, the maid returned.
"Will you step this way, miss?"
Pinker than ever, Rhoda followed her. Along a passage, round a corner, a door was opened. Nervously she entered into what seemed at first to her startled eyes to be an African forest!
Birds-masses of birds, parrots, macaws, birds unknown to ornithology, twined themselves in and out of what seemed to be a primeval forest. In the middle of this riot of bird and vegetable life, Rhoda perceived a battered kitchen-table with a typewriter on it, masses of typescript littered all over the floor and Mrs. Oliver, her hair in wild confusion, rising from a somewhat rickety-looking chair.
"My dear, how nice to see you," said Mrs. Oliver, holding out a carbon-stained hand and trying with her other hand to smooth her hair, a quite impossible proceeding.
A paper bag, touched by her elbow, fell from the desk, and apples rolled energetically all over the floor.
"Never mind, my dear, don't bother, some one will pick them up some tifne."
Rather breathless, Rhoda rose from a stooping position with five apples in her grasp.
"Oh, thank you--no, I shouldn't put them back in the bag. I think it's got a hole in it. Put them on the mantelpiece. That's right. Now, then, sit down and let's talk."
Rhoda accepted a second battered chair and focused her eyes on her hostess.
"I say, I'm terribly sorry. Am I interrupting, or anything?" she asked breathlessly.
"Well, you are and you aren!t," said Mrs. Oliver. "I am working, as you see. But that dreadful Finn of mine has got himself terribly tangled up. He did some awfully clever deduction with a dish of French beans, and now he's just detected deadly poison in the sage-and-onion stuffing of the Michaelmas goose, and I've just remembered that French beans are over by Michaelmas."
Thrilled by this peep into the inner world of creative detective fiction, Rhoda said breathlessly, "They might be tinned."
"They might, of course," said Mrs. Oliver doubtfully. "But it would rather spoil the point. I'm always getting tangled up in horticulture and things like that. People write to me and say I've got the wrong flowers all out together. As though it mattered--and, anyway, they are all out together in a London shop."
"Of course it doesn't matter," said Rhoda loyally. "Oh, Mrs. Oliver, it must be marvellous to write."
Mrs. Oliver rubbed her forehead with a carbonny finger and said:
"Why?"
"Oh," said Rhoda, a little taken aback. "Because it must. It must be wonderful just to sit down and write off a whole book."
"It doesn't happen exactly like that," said Mrs. Oliver. "One actually has to think, you know. And thinking is always a bore. And you have to plan things. And then one gets stuck every now and then, and you feel you'll never get out of the mess but you do! Writing's not particularly enjoyable. It's hard work, like everything else."
"It doesn't seem like work," said Rhoda.
"Not to you," said Mrs. Oliver, "because you don't have to do it! It feels very like work to me. Some days I can only keep going by repeating over and over to myself the amount of money I might get for my next serial rights. That spurs you on, you know. So does your bank-book when you see how much overdrawn you "I never imagined you actually typed your books yourself," said Rhoda. "I thought you'd have a secretary." "I did have a secretary, and I used to try and dictate to her, but she was so competent that it used to depress me. I felt she knew so much more about English and grammar and full stops and semi-colons than I did, that it gave me a kind of inferiority complex. Then I tried having a thoroughly incompetent secretary, but, of course, that didn't answer very well, either." "It must be so wonderful to be able to think of things," said Rhoda. "I can always think of things," said Mrs. Oliver happily. "What is so tiring is writing them down. I always think I've finished, and then when I count up I find I've only written thirty thousand words instead of sixty thousand, and so then I have to throw in another murder and get the heroine kidnapped again. It's all very boring." Rhoda did not answer. She was staring at Mrs. Oliver with the reverence felt by youth for celebrity--slightly tinged by disappointment. "Do you like the wall-paper?" asked Mrs. Oliver, waving an airy hand. "I'm frightfully fond of birds. The foliage is supposed to be tropical. It makes me feel it's a hot day, even when it's freezing. I can't do anything unless I feel very, very warm. But Sven Hjerson breaks the ice on his bath every morning!" "I think it's all marvellous,." said Rhoda. "And it's awfully nice of you to say I'm not interrupting you. "We'll have some coffee and toast," said Mrs. Oliver. "Very black coffee and very hot toast. I can always eat that any time." She went to the door, opened it and shouted. Then she returned and said: "What brings you to town--shopping?" "Yes, I've been doing some shopping." "Is Miss Meredith up, too?" "Yes, she's gone with Major Despard to a solicitor." "Solicitor, eh?" Mrs. Oliver's brows rose inquiringly. "Yes. You see, Major Despard told her she ought to have one. He's been awfully kind--he really has." "I was kind, too," said Mrs. Oliver, "but it didn't seem to go down very well, did it? In fact, I think your friend rather resented my coming." "Oh, she lidn't--really she didn't." Rhoda wriggled on her chair in a paroxysm of embarrassment. "That's really one reason why I wanted to come to-day-to explain, You see, I saw you had got it all wrong. She did seem very ungracious, but it wasn't that, really. I mean, it wasn't your coming. It was something you said." "Something I said?" "Yes. You couldn't tell, of course. It was just unfortunate." "What did I say?" "I don't expect you remember, even. It was just the way you put it. You said something about an accident and poison." "Did I?" "I knew you'd probably not remember. Yes. You see, Anne, had a ghastly experience once. She was in a house w]aere a woman took some poison--hat paint, I think i.t wasby mistake for something else. And she died. And, of course, it was an awful shock to Anne. She can't bear thinking of it or speaking of it. And your saying that reminded her, of course, and she dried up and got all stiff and queer like she does. And I saw you noticed it. And I couldn't say anything in front of her. But I did want you to know that it wasn't what you thought. She wasn't ungrateful."
Mrs. Oliver looked at Rhoda's flushed eager face. She said slowly:
"I see."
"Anne's awfully sensitive," said Rhoda. "And she's bad about--well, facing things. If anything's upset her, she'd just rather not talk about it, although that isn't any good, really--at least, I don't think so. Things are there just the same whether you talk about them or not. It's only running away from them to pretend they don't exist. I'd rather have it all out, however painful it would be."
"Ah," said Mrs. Oliver quietly. "But you, my dear, are a soldier. Your Anne isn't."
Rhoda flushed. Mrs. Oliver smiled. "Anne's a darling."
She said, "I didn't say she wasn't. I only said she hadn't got your particular brand of courage."
She sighed, then said rather unexpectedly to the girl:
"Do you believe in the value of truth, my dear, or don't you?"
"Of course I believe in the truth," said Rhoda, staring.
"Yes, you say that but perhaps you haven't thought about it. The truth hurts sometimes--and destroys one's illusions."
"I'd rather have it, all the same," said Rhoda. "So would I. But I don't know that we're wise." Rhoda said earnestly:
"Don't tell Anne, will you, what I've told you? She wouldn't like it."
"I certainly shouldn't dream of doing any such thing. Was this long ago?" "About four years ago. It's odd, isn't it, how the same things happen again and again to people. I had an aunt who was always in shipwrecks. And here's A.nne mixed up in two sudden deaths--only, of course, this one's much worse. Murder's
rather awful, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
The black coffee and the hot buttered toast appeared at this minute.
Rhoda ate and drank with childish gusto. It was very exciting to her thus to be sharing an intimate meal with a celebrity.
When they had finished she rose and said:
"I do hope I haven't interrupted you too terribly. Would you mind--I mean, would it bother you awfully--if I sent one of your books to you, would you sign it for me?"
Mrs. Oliver laughed.
"Oh, I can do better than that for you." She opened a cupboard at the far end of the room. "Which would you like? I rather fancy The Affair of the Second Goldfish myself. It's not quite such frightful tripe as the rest."
A little shocked at hearing an authoress thus describe the children of her pen, Rhoda accepted eagerly. Mrs. Oliver took the book, opened it, inscribed her name
with a superlative flourish and handed it to Rhoda.
"There you are."
"Thank you very much. I have enjoyed myself. Sure you didn't mind mY coming?"
"I wanted you to," said Mrs. Oliver. She added after a moment's pause: "You're a nice child. Good-bye. Take care of yourself, my dear." "Now, why did I say that?" she murmured to herself as the door closed behind her guest. She shook her head, ruffled her hair, and returned to the masterly dealings of Sven Hjerson with the sage-and-onion stuffing.
第十七章 露达·达威斯的证辞
第十七章 露达•达威斯的证辞

露达•达威斯走出狄本汉商店，若有所思站在人行道上，一脸犹豫不决的表情。那张脸表情丰富，每一种飞逝的情绪都迅速化为各种表情。 此时露达的面孔清晰说道："我该不该？""我想－－""也许还是不要的好。" 门警满怀希望问她："小姐，计程车？"露达摇摇头。 一位手提大包小包的胖妇人满脸"为圣诞提早购物"的表情，猛撞了露达一下，露达依旧呆站在那里拿不定主意。 乱糟糟的思绪掠过脑海。"我去去又何妨呢？她邀请过我－－不过她也许对每个人都说这句话哩。她不一定是认真的－－反正安妮不要我陪。她说得很清楚，她宁可单独和德斯帕少校去找律师－－她这样做有何不可？我意思是说，三个人嫌太多了－－而那件事与我无关。我也不见得特别想见德斯帕少校－－虽然他很亲切－－我想他一定爱上安妮了。否则男人不肯这么费心的－－我意思是说，不只是纯粹的善意。" 一位信差撞到露达，以责备的口吻说："小姐，请原谅。" 露达暗想："噢，老天我不能整天站在这里呀，只因为我是白痴，拿不定主意－－我想那件外套和裙子一定很漂亮。不知道棕色会不会更实用？不，我不以为然。算了，我该去还是不该去呢？三点半－－正是好时刻－－我意思说，人家不会以为我存心叨扰一餐。我还是去看看吧。" 她过马路，向右转再向左转，沿着哈莉街走去，最后来到一排奥利佛太太描述为"与疗养院为伍"的公寓，才停下脚步。 露达暗想："算啦，她又不会吃掉我"，就壮胆走进楼房。 奥利佛太太的住宅在顶楼。一位穿着制服的侍者以电梯载露达上去，她下了电梯，站在一扇绿门外，脚踏漂亮的新垫子。 露达暗想："真可怕，比看牙医更糟糕。不过我得坚持到底。" 她窘得满面红晕，按按门铃。 一位年老的使女来开门。 "是－－我能不能－－奥利佛太太在不在家？"露达问道。 使女退后，露达走进屋里；跟着踏入一间很不整洁的客厅。使女说："请问我该报什么姓名？" "噢－－呃－－就说是达威斯小姐－－露达•达威斯小姐。" 使女进去了。露达觉得好象过了一百年，其实只有一分四十五秒，使女又回到客厅。 "小姐，请走这边。" 露达脸红得比刚才更厉害，乖乖跟着女佣走；沿走道转个弯，有一扇门开着；她紧张兮兮踏进一个房间，起先她满怀惊讶，以为自己来到了非洲森林！鸟儿－－一群群的小鸟、鹦鹉、金刚鹦鹉、连鸟类学家都不知道的鸟儿……在原始丛林间绕进绕出。在鸟儿和植物群中，露达看到一张旧餐桌，上面摆一台打字机，大堆的打字稿散在地上，奥利佛太太满头乱发，正由一张东倒西歪的椅子上站起来。 "孩子，幸会幸会。"奥利佛太太说着伸出一只沾了油墨的手，以另一只手去抚平头发，这个动作简直不可思议。 她的手肘碰到桌上的一个纸袋，纸袋掉下来，苹果滚得满地都是。 "没关系，孩子，别麻烦了，等一下自会有人来检。" 露达气喘吁吁，抓着五个苹果直起身。 "噢，谢谢你－－不，我不该放回纸袋里。我想纸袋有洞，放在壁炉架上吧。 这样可以了。坐下来，我们谈谈。" 露达接过另一张旧椅子坐下来，眼睛盯着女主人。 她气喘吁吁问道："我真抱歉。我是不是打扰了你的工作之类的？" 奥利佛太太说："噢，可以说是也可以说不是。我正在工作，你看见啦。不过我笔下的芬兰侦探把自己给搞糊涂了。他靠一盘法国豆来推理，侦查出鼠尾草和麦克节鹅肉里面塞的洋葱有致死的毒药，不过我刚刚想起法国豆的生长季到麦克节已经过去了。" 露达瞥见侦探小说的内在世界，兴奋莫名，几乎喘不过气来说："可以制成罐头呀。" 奥利佛太太将信将疑说："当然可以。不过这样会破坏高潮。园艺之类的事情我老是搞不清。读者写信给我，说我把花朵开放的季节全弄错了。这有什么关系嘛－－反正伦敦的一家花店里各种花都一起开的。" 露达忠心地说："当然没关系。噢，奥利佛太太，写作一定棒极了。" 奥利佛太太用沾了油墨的手指去揉额头问道："为什么？" 露达有点吃惊说："噢，一定是如此嘛。坐下来写完一本书一定很妙。" 奥利佛太太说："不尽然。你知道，必须要思考。而思考往往很烦人。还得计划一切；又不时困住，叫人觉得永远挣不开困局－－后来总算挣脱了！写作并不特别愉快。跟任何行业一样辛苦。" "不大象工作，"露达说。 奥利佛太太说："对你而言不象，因为你不必做呀！我却觉得是工作。有时候我得一再对自己复述下一批版权费的数目，才能继续做下去。你知道，钞票给人鼓舞。当你看见存款透支的时候，存款簿也有同样的作用。" 露达说："我没想到你亲自打字。我以为你有秘书。" "我的确请过秘书，我常设法口述给她听，可是她太能干了，往往叫我沮丧。我觉得她比我更懂英文、文法、逗号和分号，还我有自卑感。后来我请一个不能干的秘书，当然啦，也不太合用。" 露达说："能构思情节一定很妙。" 奥利佛太太高兴说："我随时能构思情节，累的是写下来。我常常自以为写完了，算一算发现才只写了三万字，不是六万字。于是我只得再补上一件命案，让女主角再被人绑架。真烦人。" 露达没答腔。她盯着奥利佛太太，满怀年轻人对名人的敬意－－却又夹着点失望。 奥利佛太太挥手说："你喜不喜欢这种壁纸？我好喜欢鸟儿。这些叶簇大概是热带产的。即使天气冷得要命，我看了也觉得是大热天。除非自觉很暖很暖，我什么事都做不来。不过我笔下的史文•赫森每天早晨都得打破浴室的冰层！" 露达说："我认为棒极了。你说我没打扰你，多谢。" 奥利佛太太说："我们喝点咖啡，吃点烤面包片。咖啡很浓，烤面包片热烘烘的。我随时吃得下。" 她走到门口，开门叫唤，接着回来说："你为什么进城－－是不是来逛街？" "是的，我逛街买了点东西。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐也进城了？" "是的，她跟德斯帕少校去找一位律师。" "律师，呃？"奥利佛太太的眉毛往上挑，表示询问。 "是的，你知道德斯帕少校说她该找一个律师。他非常好心－－真的。" 奥利佛太太说："我也好心，不过好象不太受欢迎，对不对？事实上，我认为你的朋友很气我去看她。" "噢，没有－－她真的没有。"露达尴尬得在椅子上动来动去。"其实我今天来就是为了这个原因－－来解释一下。我看你完全误会了。她外表看来很冷淡，其实并非如此。我意思是说，不是因为你去拜访，而是因为你说了一句话。""我说了一句话？" "是的，当然啦，你分辨不出来。只是不巧罢了。" 
"我说了什么？""我想你一定不记得了。是你说话的方式－－你提过意外和毒药之类的。" "我说了吗？" "我知道你可能不记得了。你要知道，安妮有过一次恐怖的经验。她住在一户人家，那边有个女人误吞了毒药－－好象是染帽子的色漆；中毒死亡。当然啦，对安妮是可怕的震撼。她想起来或谈起来就受不了。拟定话害她想起旧事，她忽然不做声，全身僵硬，变得怪怪的。我发觉你注意到了，我不能在她面前说什么。但是我要告诉你，事情跟你想象中不一样，她并非不感激你。" 奥利佛太太望着露达那张认真的红脸，慢慢说："我明白了。" 露达说："安妮敏感得要命。她不擅于－－面对现实。若有什么事情害她心慌，她宁可不谈那件事－－其实那样一点好处都没有－－至少我认为如此。不管你谈不谈，事情照样存在。这样等于逃避，假装没有那回事。无论多痛苦，我宁可全说出来。" 奥利佛太太平平静静说："啊，不过孩子，你是斗士。你的朋友安妮可不然。" 露达脸红了。"安妮是个可人儿。" 奥利佛太太露出笑容。 她说："我没说她不可爱。我只说她没有你这种特殊的勇气。" 她叹口气，然后出其不意对少女说："孩子，你相信真理的价值，还是不相信？" 露达瞠目说："我当然相信真理。" "是的，你嘴上这么说，但是你也许没想过这个问题。有时候真相会刺伤人心－－毁掉人的幻梦。" 露达说："我依旧想知道实情。" "我也是。但我不敢确定这样是否聪明。" 露达认真说："别把我跟你说的话告诉安妮，好不好？她会不高兴的。" "我绝不会这么做。事情是不是很久以前发生的？" "大约四、五年前。说也奇怪，人总是一再碰到同样的事。我有个姑妈老遇到船难。安妮则卷进两次暴死事件－－当然啦，这次更糟糕，谋杀案相当可怕，对不对？" "是的。" 这时候不加糖的咖啡和涂了奶油的热面包片送来了。露达象小孩子一般胃口大开。能跟名人亲亲密密共饮共食，她觉得好兴奋。 吃喝完毕，她站起来说："但愿我没过份打扰你工作。如果我寄一本你的作品过来，你介不介意－－我意思是说，你会不会觉得麻烦？你肯不肯替我签个名？" 奥利佛太太笑出声。"噢，我可以为你做更大的服务。"她打开房间另一端的柜子。"你喜欢哪一本？我自己相当喜欢《第二条金鱼事件》。不象其它那么吓人。" 露达听一位作家如此形容自己笔下的作品，有点震惊，连忙接受馈赠。奥利佛太太拿起书，翻开来，以花体字签下名号，把书交给露达。 "喏。" "多谢你。我此行很愉快。你真的不介意我来？" "我要你来的，"奥利佛太太说。 她犹豫片刻又说："你是好孩子，再见。好好照顾自己。" 客人走后，她关上门，自言自语说："我为什么说那句话呢？" 她摇摇头，把头发弄乱，又回去处理主角史文•赫森和鼠尾草及洋葱填料的情节。
CHAPTER 18 Tea Interlude
CHAPTER 18 Tea Interlude

Mrs. Lorrimer came out of a certain door in Harley Street. She stood for a minute at the top of the steps, and then she descended them slowly. There was a curious expression on her facea mingling of grim determination and of strange indecision. She bent her brows a little, as though to concentrate on some all-absorbing problem. It was just then that she caught sight of Anne Meredith on the opposite pavement. Anne was standing staring up at a big block of flats just on the corner. Mrs. Lorrimer hesitated a moment, then she crossed the road. "How do you do, Miss Meredith?" Anne started and turned. "Oh, how do you do?" "Still in London?" said Mrs. Lorrimer. "No. I've only come up for the day. To do some legal business." Her eyes were still straying back to the big block of flats. Mrs. Lorrimer said: "Is anything the matter?" Anne started guiltily. "The matter? Oh, no, what should be the matter?" "You were looking as though you had something on your mind." "I haven't--well, at least I have, but it's nothing important, something quite silly." She laughed a little. She went on: "It's only that I thought I saw my friend--the girl I live with--go in there, and I wondered if she'd gone to see Mrs. Oliver." "Is that where Mrs. Oliver lives? I didn't know." "Yes. She came to see us the other day and she gave us her address and asked us to come and see her. I wondered if it was Rhoda I saw or not." "Do you want to go up and see?" "No, I'd rather not do that." ' "Come and have tea with me," said Mrs. Lorrimer. "There is a shop quite near here that I know." "It's very kind of you," said Anne, hesitating.
"Oh, Anne, you want your tea." "No, I don't. I've had it. With Mrs. Lorrimer." "Mrs. Lorrimer? Isn't that the one the one who was there?" Anne nodded. "Where did you come across her? Did you go and see her?" "No. I ran across her in Harley Street." "What was she like?" Anne said slowly: "I don't know. She was--rather queer. Not at all like the other night." "Do you still think she did it?" asked Rhoda. Anne was silent for a minute or two. Then she said: "I don't know. Don't let's talk of it, Rhoda! You know how I hate talking of things." "All right, darling. What was the solicitor like? Very dry and legal?" "Rather alert and Jewish." "Sounds all right." She waited a little and then said: "How was Major Despard?" "Very kind." "He's fallen for you, Anne. I'm sure he has." "Rhoda, don't talk nonsense." "Well, you'll see." Rhoda began humming to herself. She thought: "Of course he's fallen for her. Anne's awfully pretty. But a bit wishy washy She'll never go on treks with him. Why, she'd scream if she saw a snake Men always do take fancies to unsuitable women." Then she said aloud. "That bus will take us to Paddington. We'll just catch the 4:48."
第十八章 小茶会
第十八章 小茶会

洛瑞玛太太走出哈莉街的某一道们。她在台阶顶端站了一分钟，才慢慢往下走。 她脸上的表情很特别－－决心和犹豫互相交织。她略略垂下眉毛，似乎正专心想某一个问题。 这时候她瞥见安妮•梅瑞迪斯站在对面的人行道上。安妮仰视转角的一大排公寓。 洛瑞玛太太迟疑片刻，然后过街。"你好，梅瑞迪斯小姐。" 安妮吓了一跳，转过身子。"噢，你好。" "还在伦敦？"洛瑞玛太太说。 "不，我是今天才进城，办点法律事务。" 她的眼睛仍然瞟向那一大排公寓。洛瑞玛太太说："有什么问题吗？" 安妮心虚得吓一跳。 "问题？噢，没有，哪会有什么问题？" "你好象有心事。" "没有－－噢，至少我有－－但是不重要，说来有点傻气，"她略微笑出声。 她继续说："我好象看见我的朋友－－跟我同住的女孩子－－进去那边，不知道她有没有去看奥利佛太太。" "奥利佛太太住在那边吗？我不知道。" "是的，天几天她去看我们，把地址抄给我们，要我们来看她。不知道我看见的是不是露达。" "你要不要上去看看？" "不，我宁可别去。" 洛瑞玛太太说："来陪我喝茶吧。附近有一家店我很熟。" 安妮犹豫不决说："你真客气。" 她们并肩走下街道，拐进一条侧街。到了一家小糕饼店，侍者端来茶和松饼。她们很少说话。两个人都觉得对方沉默予人安祥感。 安妮突然问道："奥利佛太太有没有去看你？" 洛瑞玛太太摇摇头。 "除了白罗先生，没有人来看过我。" "我意思不是说－－"安妮说道。 "不是吗？我以为你是哩，"洛瑞玛太太说。 少女抬头望－－目光灵敏又惊慌。她看到洛瑞玛抬头的某种表情，似乎安心不少。 她慢慢说："他没有去看我。" 接着停顿片刻。 安妮问道："巴特探长有没有去看你？" "噢，有，当然，"洛瑞玛太太说。 安妮犹豫道："他问你哪一类的话？" 洛瑞玛太太疲倦地叹口气。"我想是一般性的问题。例行的侦查。他很高兴把公事办完。"  "我猜每个人他都访问到了。"  "我想是吧。"话题又中断片刻。 安妮问道："洛瑞玛太太，你认为－－他们会查出是谁干的吗？" 她低头望着盘子。她没看见老妇人打量她下垂的脑袋时那种奇特的表情。 洛瑞玛太太脸上又浮出刚才那种奇特的评估和同情的神色："安妮•梅瑞迪斯，你今年几岁？" 少女结结巴巴说："我－－我？我二十五岁。" 洛瑞玛太太说："我六十三岁。"又缓缓说："你还有大半辈子要过呢。" 安妮浑身发抖。她说："说不定回家的路上我就会被公车压死。" "是的，这倒是真话。而我－－我可能不会。" 洛瑞玛太太说话的样子怪怪的。安妮骇然望着她。 洛瑞玛太太又说："人生是一椿难事。等你到了我这个年龄，你就知道了。活下去需要无尽的勇气和耐心。到头来人会自问'值不值得？'" 安妮说："噢，别这样。" 洛瑞玛太太笑起来，又恢复能干的本色。 她说："谈人生忧郁的一面有碍健康。"她叫女侍来算帐。 她们走到店门口，一辆计程车慢慢开过去，洛瑞玛太开口叫车。 她问道："我能不能载你一程？我要到公园南面。" 安妮的表情开朗起来。 "不，谢谢你，我看到我的朋友转过街角。多谢你，洛瑞玛太太。再见。" "再见，祝你好运，"老妇人说。 她坐车走了，安妮匆匆往前赶。 露达看见好友，满面春风，接着又换上歉疚的表情。安妮逼问道："露达，你是不是去看奥利佛太太了？" "说真的我去了。" "我正好逮到你。" "我不知道你说'逮到'是什么意思。我们走下去坐公共汽车吧。你可能跟男朋友离开。我以为他至少会请你喝茶。" 安妮沉默一分钟－－耳边响起（德斯帕少校）的一句话："我们能不能在途中接你的朋友，大家一起去喝茶？" 当时她匆匆回答，未加考虑："多谢，不过我们得跟别人一起去喝茶。" 谎话－－而且是一句愚蠢的谎话。想到就说，未加思考。其实说一句"多谢，不过我的朋友得出去吃饭"也很简单嘛。那样依旧可以不要露达参加。 她不要露达作陪，真怪。她一定想独占德斯帕。她忌妒露达。露达真伶俐，真会讲话，充满热诚和活力。那天德斯帕似乎很欣赏露达。不过他来看的是她安妮•梅瑞迪斯呀。露达就是这样。她不是故意的，可是她会害人退居配角地位。不，她绝不要露达参加。 但是她慌慌张张处理得太笨了。她若处理得好一点，现在也许跟德斯帕少校一起坐在他的俱乐部或其它地方喝茶了。 她很气露达。露达讨人厌。她去看奥利佛太太干什么？忍不住大声说："你为什么去看奥利佛太太？" "咦，她请我们去呀。" "是的，可是我认为她不是真心的。我想她随时都得说这种话。" "她是真心的。她好亲切呦－－再亲切不过了。她送我一本她的作品。你看。" 露达炫耀对方的赠礼。 安妮多疑地说："你们谈什么？没谈我吧？" "听听这位姑娘多自负！" "不，你有没有谈我？有没有谈到命案？" "我们谈她书中的案件。她正在写一本书，书上的鼠尾草和洋葱有毒。她好有人情味呦－－说写作很辛苦，她常把情节搞混，我们喝不加糖的咖啡，吃涂奶油的烤面包片，"露达得意洋洋把话说完。 然后她又说："噢，安妮，你要喝下午茶。" "不，我不要。我跟洛瑞玛太太喝过了。" "洛瑞玛太太？莫非就是那个－－当时在场的太太？" 安妮点点头。 "你在什么地方碰见她？你去看她啦？" "不，我在哈莉街碰见她。" "她长得什么样子？" 安妮慢慢说："我不知道。她－－怪怪的。跟那天晚上完全不一样。" "你还认为是她干的？"露达问道。 安妮沉默一两分钟，然后说："我不知道。我们别谈那件事。我们别谈那件事。露达！你知道我讨厌谈那些。" "好吧，宝贝。律师如何？枯燥无味，一切将法规？"  "很机警。" "听来不错嘛。"她等了一会才问道："德斯帕少校如何？" "非常和气。" "安妮，他爱上你了，我敢确定。" "露达，别胡扯。" "噢，你看好了。" 露达开始哼歌。她暗想：他当然会爱上她。安妮漂亮极了，只是有点缺乏生趣－－她永远也不会跟他到处旅行。咦，她看到蛇一定会尖叫。男人都喜欢不相配的女人。 接着她大声说："那辆公车会载我去巴丁顿站。我们正好赶四点四十八分的火车。"
CHAPTER 19 Consultation
CHAPTER 19 Consultation

The telephone rang in Poirot's room and a respectful voice spoke. "Sergeant O'Connor. Superintendent Battle's compliments and would it be convenient for Mr. Hercule Poirot to come to Scotland Yard at 11:307" Poirot replied in the affirmative and Sergeant O'Connor rang off. It was 11:30 to the minute when Poirot descended from his taxi at the door of New Scotland Yard---to be at once seized upon by Mrs. Oliver. "M. Poirot. How splendid! Will you come to my rescue?" "EnchantS, madame. What can I do?" "Pay my taxi for me. I don't know how it happened but I brought out the bag I keep my going-abroad money in and the man simply won't take francs or liras or marks!" Poirot gallantly produced some loose change, and he and Mrs. Oliver went inside the building together. They were taken to Superintendent Batfie's own room. The superintendent was sitting behind a table and looking more wooden than ever. "Just like a piece of modern sculpture," whispered Mrs. Oliver to Poirot.
Battle rose and shook hands with them both and they sat down.
"I thought it was about time for a little meeting," said Battle. "You'd like to hear how I've got on, and I'd like to hear how you've got on. We're just waiting for Colonel Race and then- "
But at that moment the door opened and the colonel appeared.
"Sorry I'm late, Battle. How do you do, Mrs. Oliver. Hallo, M. Poirot. Very sorry if I've kept you waiting. But I'm off to-morrow and had a lot of things to see to."
"Where are you going to?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "A little shooting trip Baluchistan way." Poirot said, smiling ironically:
"A little trouble, is there not, in that part of the world? You will have to be careful."
"I mean to be," said Race gravely--but his eyes twinkled.
"Got anything for us, sir?" asked Battle.
"I've got you your information re Despard. Here it is--
He pushed over a sheaf of papers.
"There's a mass of dates and places there. Most of it quite irrelevant, I should imagine. Nothing agains, t him. He's a stout fellow. Record quite unblemished. Strict disciplinarian. Liked and trusted by the natives everywhere. One of their cumbrous names for him in Africa, where they go in for such things, is 'The man who keeps his mouth shut and judges fairly.' General opinion of the white races that Despard is a Pukka Sahib. Fine shot. Cool head. Generally long-sighted and dependable."
Unmoved by this eulogy, Battle asked:
"Any sudden deaths connected with him?"
"I laid special stress on that point. There's one fine rescue to his credit. Pal of
his was being mauled by a lion."
Battle sighed.
"It's not rescues I want."
"You're a persistent fellow, Battle. There's only one incident I've been able to rake up that might suit your book. Trip into the interior in South America. Despard accompanied Professor Luxmore, the celebrated botanist, and his wife.
The professor died of fever and was buried somewhere up the Amazon." "Fever-eh?"
"Fever. But I'll play fair with you. One of the native bearers (who was sacked for stealing, incidentally) had a story that the professor didn't die of fever, but was shot. The rumour was never taken seriously." "About time it was, perhaps." Race shook his head.
"I've given you the facts. You asked for them and you're entitled to them, but I'd lay long odds against its being Despard who did the dirty work the other evening. He's a white man, Battle."
"Incapable of murder, you mean?"
Colonel Race hesitated.
"Incapable of what I'd call murder--yes," he said.
"But not incapable of killing a man for what would seem to him good and sufficient reasons, is that it?"
"If so, they would be good and sufficient reasons!"
Battle shook his head.
"You can't have human beings judging other human beings and taking the law into their own hands."
"It happens, Battle it happens."
"It shouldn't happen--that's my point. What do you say, M. Poirot?"
"I agree with you, Battle. I have always disapproved of murder.''
"What a delightfully droll way of putting it," said Mrs. Oliver. "Rather as though it were fox-hunting or killing ospreys for hats. Don't you think there are people who ought to be murdered?"
"That, very possibly."
"Well, then!"
"You do not comprehend. It is not the victim who concerns me so much. It is the effect on the character of the slayer."
"What about war?"
"In war you do not exercise the right of private judgment. That is what is so dangerous. Once a man is imbued with the idea that he knows who ought to be allowed to live and who ought not--then he is half-way to becoming the most dangerous killer there is--the arrogant criminal who kills not for profit but for an idea. He has usurped the functions of le bon Dieu."
Colonel Race rose: "I'm sorry I can't stop with you. Too much to do. I'd like to see the end of this business. Shouldn't be surprised if there never was an end. Even if you find out who did it, it's going to be next to impossible to prove. I've given you the facts you wanted, but in my opinion Despard's not the man. I don't believe he's ever committed murder. Shaitana may have heard some garbled rumour of Professor Luxmore's death, but I don't believe there's more to it than that. Despard's a white man, and I don't believe he's ever been a murderer. That's my opinion. And I know something of men." "What's Mrs. Luxmore like?" asked Battle. "She lives in London, so you can see for yourself. You'll find the address among those papers. Somewhere in South Kensington. But I repeat, Despard isn't the man." Colonel Race left the room, stepping with the springy noiseless tread of a hunter. Battle nodded his head thoughtfully as the door closed behind him. "He's probably right," he said. "He knows men. Colonel Race does. But all the same, one can't take anything for granted." He looked through the mass of documents Race had deposited on the table, occasionally making a pencil note on the pad beside him. "Well, Superintendent Battle," said Mrs. Oliver. "Aren't you going to tell us what you have been doing?" He looked up and smiled, a slow smile that creased his wooden face from side to side. "This is all very irregular, Mrs. Oliver. I hope you realise that." "Nonsense," said Mrs. Oliver. "I don't suppose for a moment you'll tell us anything you don't want to." Battle shook his head. "No," he said decidedly. "Cards on the table. That's the motto for this business. I mean to play fair." Mrs. Oliver hitched her chair nearer.
 "Tell us," she begged. Superintendent Battle said slowly: "First of all, I'll say this. As far as the actual murder of Mr. Shaitana goes, I'm not a penny the wiser. There's no hint nor clue of any kind to be found in his papers. As for the four others, I've had them shadowed, naturally, but without any tangible result. That was only to be expected. No, as M. Poirot said, there's only one hopethe past. Find out what crime exactly (if any, that is to say--after all, Shaitana may have been talking through his hat to make an impression on M. Poirot) these people have committed and it may tell you who committed this crime." "Well, have you found out anything?" "I've got a line on one of them." "Which?" "Dr. Roberts." Mrs. Oliver looked at him with thrilled expectation. "As M. Poirot here knows, I tried out all kinds of theories. I established the fact pretty clearly that none of his immediate family had met with a sudden death. I've explored every alley as well as I could, and the whole thing boils down to one possibility--and rather an outside possibility at that. A few years ago Roberts must have been guilty of indiscretion, at least, with one of his lady patients. There may have been nothing in it--probably wasn't. But the woman was the hysterical, emotional kind who likes to make a scene, and either the husband got wind of what was going on, or his wife 'confessed.' Anyway, the fat was in the fire as far as the doctor was concerned. Enraged husband threatening to report him to the General Medical Council which would probably have meant the ruin of his professional career." "What happened?" demanded Mrs. Oliver breathlessly. "Apparently Roberts managed to calm down the irate gentleman term- porarily-and he died of anthrax almost immediately afterwards." "Anthrax? But that's a cattle disease?" The superintendent grinned. "Quite right, Mrs. Oliver. It isn't the untraceable arrow poison of the South American Indian! You may remember that there was rather a scare about infected shaving brushes of cheap make about that time. Craddock's shaving brush was proved to have been the cause of infection." "Did Dr. Roberts attend him?" "Oh, no. Too canny for that. Dare say Craddock wouldn't have wanted him in any case. The only evidence I've got--and that's precious little is that among the doctor's patients there was a case of anthrax at the time." "You mean the doctor infected the shaving brush?" "That's the big idea. And mind you, it's only an idea. Nothing whatever to go on. Pure conjecture. But it could be." "He didn't marry Mrs. Craddock afterwards?" "Oh, dear me, no, I imagine the affection was always on the lady's side. She tended to cut up rough, I hear, but suddenly went off to Egypt quite happily for the winter. She died there. A case of some obscure blood-poisoning. It's got a long name, but I don't expect it would convey much to you. Most uncommon in this country, fairly common amongst the natives in Egypt." "So the doctor couldn't have poisoned her?" "I don't know," said Battle slowly. "I've been chatting to a bacteriologist friend of mine---awfully difficult to get straight answers out of these people. They never can say yes or no. It's always 'that might be possible under certain conditions'--'it would depend on the pathological condition of the recipient'- 'such cases have been known'---'a lot depends on individual idiosyncrasy' all that sort of stuff. But as far as I could pin my friend down I got at this--the germ, or germs, I suppose, might have been introduced into the blood before leaving England. The symptoms would not make their appearance for some time to come." Poirot asked: "Was Mrs. Craddock inoculated for typhoid before going to Egypt? Most people are, I fancy." ' "Good for you, M. Poirot.' "And Dr. Roberts did the inoculation?" "That's right. There you are again--we can't prove anything. She had the usual two inoculations--and they may have been typhoid inoculations for all we know. Or one of them may have been typhoid inoculation and the other--something else. We don't know. We never shall know. The whole thing is pure hypothesis. All we can say is: it might be." Poirot nodded thoughtfully. "It agrees very well with some remarks made to me by Mr. Shaitana. He was exalting the successful murderer--the man against whom his crime could never be brought home." "How did Mr. Shaitana know about it, then?" asked Mrs. Oliver. Poirot shrugged his shoulders. "That we shall never learn. He himself was in Egypt at one time. We know that, because he met Mrs. Lorrimer there. He may have heard some local doctor comment on curious features of Mrs. Craddock's casea wonder as to how the infection arose. At some other time he may have heard gossip about Roberts and Mrs. Craddock. He might have amused himself by making some cryptic remark to the doctor and noted the startled awareness in his eye--all that one can never know. Some people have an uncanny gift of divining secrets. Mr. Shaitana was one of those people. All that does not concern us. We have only to say--he guessed. Did he guess right?" "Well, I think he did," said Battle. "I've a feeling that our cheerful, genial doctor wouldn't be too scrupulous. I've known one or two like him--wonderful how certain types resemble each other. In my opinion he's a killer all right. He killed Craddock. He may have killed Mrs. Craddock if she was beginning to be a nuisance and cause a scandal. But did he kill Shaitana? That's the real question. And comparing the crimes, I rather doubt it. In the case of the Craddocks he used medical methods each time. The deaths appeared to be due to natural causes. In my opinion the had killed Shaitana, he would have done so in a medical way. He'd have used the germ and not the knife." "I never thought it was him," said Mrs. Oliver. "Not for a minute. He's too obvious, somehow." "Exit Roberts," murmured Poirot. "And the others?" Battle made a gesture of impatience. "I've pretty well drawn a blank. Mrs. Lorrimer's been a widow for twenty years now. She's lived in London most of the time, occasionally going abroad in the winter. Civilised placesthe Riviera, Egypt, that sort of thing. Can't find any mysterious deaths associated with her. She seems to have led a perfectly normal, respectable life---the life of a woman of the world. Every one seems to respect her and to have the highest opinion of her character. The worst that they can say about her is that she doesn't suffer fools gladly! I don't mind admitting I've been beaten all along the line there. And yet there must be something! Shaitana thought there was. He sighed in a dispirited manner. "Then there's Miss Meredith. I've got her history taped out quite clearly. Usual sort of story. Army officer's daughter. Left with very little 'money. Had to earn her living. Not properly trained for anything. I've checked up on her early days at Cheltenham. All quite straightforward. Every one very sorry for the poor little thing. She went first to some people in the Isle of Wight kind of nursery-governess and mother's help. The woman she was with is out in Palestine but I've talked with her sister and she says Mrs. Eldon liked the girl very much. Certainly no mysterious deaths nor anything of that kind. "When Mrs. Eldon went abroad, Miss Meredith went to Devonshire and took a post as companion to an aunt of a school friend. The school friend is the girl she is living with now--Miss Rhoda Dawes. She was there over two years until Miss Dawes got too ill and had to have a regular trained nurse. Cancer, I gather. She's alive still, but very vague. Kept under morphia a good deal, I imagine. I had an interview with her. She remembered 'Anne,' said she was a nice child. I also talked to a neighbour of hers who would be better able to remember the happenings of the last few years. No deaths in the parish except one or two of the older villagers, with whom, as far as I can make out, Anne Meredith never came into contact. "Since then there's been Switzerland. Thought I might get on the track of some fatal accident there, but nothing doing. And there's nothing in Wallingford either." "So Anne Meredith is acquitted?" asked Poirot. Battle hesitated. "I wouldn't say that. There's something .... There's a scared look about her that can't quite be accounted for by panic over Shaitana. She's too watchful. Too much on the alert. I'd swear there was something. But there it is--she's led a perfectly blameless life." Mrs. Oliver took a deep breath--a breath of pure enjoyment. "And yet," she said, "Anne Meredith was in the house when a woman took poison by mistake and died." She had nothing to complain of in the effect her words produced. Superintendent Battle spun round in his chair and stared at her in amazement. "Is this true, Mrs. Oliver? How do you know?" "I've been sleuthing," said Mrs. Oliver. "I get on with girls. I went down to see those two and told them a cock-and-bull story about suspecting Dr. Roberts. The Rhoda girl was friendly---oh, and rather impressed by thinking I was a celebrity. The little Meredith hated my coming and showed it quite plainly. She was suspicious. Why should she be if she hadn't got anything to hide? I asked either of them to come and see me in London. The Rhoda girl did. And she blurted the whole thing out. How Anne had been rude to me the other day because something I'd said had reminded her of a painful incident, and then she went on to describe the incident." "Did she say when and where it happened?" "Three years ago in Devonshire." The superintendent muttered something under his breath and scribbled on his pad. His wooden calm was shaken. Mrs. Oliver sat enjoying her triumph. It was a moment of great sweetness to her.
Battle recovered his temper. "I take off my hat to you, Mrs. Oliver," he said. "You've put one over on us this time. That is very valuable information. And it just shows how easily you can miss a thing." He frowned a little. "She can't have been there wherever it was--long. A couple of months at most. It must have been between the Isle of Wight and going to Miss Dawes. Yes, that could be it right enough. Naturally Mrs. Eldon's sister only remembers she went off to a place in Devonshirc she doesn't remember exactly who or where." "Tell me," said Poirot, "was this Mrs. Eldon an untidy woman?" Battle bent a curious gaze upon him. "It's odd your saying that, M. Poirot. I don't see how you could have known. The sister was rather a precise party. In talking I remember her saying 'My sister is so dreadfully untidy and slapdash.' But how did you know?" "Because she needed a mother's-help," said Mrs. Oliver. Poirot shook his head. "No, no, it was not that. It is of no moment. I was only curious. Continue, Superintendent Battle." "In the same way," went on Battle, "I took it for granted that she went to Miss Dawes straight from the Isle of Wight. She's sly, that girl. She deceived me all right. Lying the whole time." "Lying is not always a sign of guilt," said Poirot. "I know that, M. Poirot. There's the natural liar. I should say she was one, as a matter of fact. Always says the thing that sounds best. But all the same it's a pretty grave risk to take, suppressing facts like that." "She wouldn't know you had any idea of past crimes," said Mrs. Oliver. "That's all the more reason for not suppressing that little piece of information. It must have been accepted as a bona ride case of accidental death, so she'd nothing to fear-unless she were guilty." "Unless she were guilty of the Devonshire death, yes," said Poirot. Battle turned to him. "Oh, I know. Even if that accidental death turns out to be not so accidental, it doesn't follow that she killed Shaitana. But these other murders are murders too. I want to be able to bring home a crime to the person responsible for it." "According to Mr. Shaitana, that is impossible," remarked Poirot. "It is in Roberts' case. It remains to be seen if it is in Miss Meredith's. I shall go down to Devon tomorrow." "Will you know where to go?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "I didn't like to ask Rhoda for more details." "No, that was wise of you. I shan't have much difficulty. There must have been an inquest. I shall find it in the coroner's records. That's routine police work. They'll have it all taped out for me by to-morrow morning." "What about Major Despard?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "Have you found out anything about him?" '"I've been waiting for Colonel Race's report. I've had him shadowed, of course. One rather interesting thing, he went down to see Miss Meredith at Wallingford. You remember he said he'd never met her until the other night." "But she is a very pretty girl," murmured Poirot. Battle laughed. "Yes, I expect that's all there is to it. By the way, Despard's taking no chances. He's already consulted a solicitor. That looks as though he's expecting trouble."
"He is a man who looks ahead," said Poirot. "He is a man who prepared for every contingency." "And therefore not the kind of man to stick a knife into a man in a hurry," said Battle with a sigh. "Not unless it was the only way," said Poirot. "He can act quickly, remember." Battle looked across the table at him. "Now, M. Poirot, what about your cards? Haven't seen your hand down on the table yet." Poirot smiled. "There is so little in it. You think I conceal facts from you? It is not so. I have not learned many facts. I have talked with Dr. Roberts, with Mrs. Lorrimer, with Major Despard (I have still to talk to Miss Meredith) and what have I learnt? Thisl That Dr. Roberts is a keen observer, that Mrs. Lorrimer on the other hand has a most remarkable power of concentration but is, in consequence, almost blind to her surroundings. But she is fond of flowers. Despard notices only those things which appeal to him--rugs, trophies of sport. He has neither what I call the outward vision (seeing details all around you what is called an observant person) nor the inner vision--concentration, the focusing of the mind on one object. He has a purposefully limited vision. He sees only what blends and harmonises with the bent of his mind." "So those are what you call facts---eh?" said Battle curiously. "They are facts. Very small fry--perhaps." "What about Miss Meredith?" "I have left her to the end. But I shall question her too as to What she remembers in that room." "It's an odd method of approach," said Battle thoughtfully. "Purely psychological. Suppose they're leading you up the garden path?" Poirot shook his head with a smile. "No, that would be impossible. Whether they try to hinder or to help, they necessarily reveal their type of mind." "There's something in it, no doubt," said Battle thoughtfully. "I couldn't work that way myself, though." Poirot said, still smiling: "I feel I have done very little in comparison with you and with Mrs. Oliver-- and with Colonel Race. My cards, that I place on the table, are very low ones." Battle twinkled at him. "As to that, M. Poirot, the two of trumps is a low card, but it can take any one of three aces. All the same, I'm going to ask you to do a practical job of work." "And that is?" "I want you to interview Professor Luxmore's widow." "And why do you not do that yourself?." "Because, as I said just now, I'm off to Devonshire." "Why do you not do that yourself?." repeated Poirot. "Won't be put off, will you? Well, I'll speak the truth. I think you'll get more out of her than I shall." "My methods being less straightforward?" "You can put it that way if you like," said Battle, grinning. "I've heard Inspector Japp say that you've got a tortuous mind." "Like the late Mr. Shaitana?" "You think he would have been able to get things out of her?"
Poirot said slowly: "I rather think he did get things out of her!" "What makes you think so?" asked Battle sharply. "A chance remark of Major Despard's." "Gave himself away, did he? That sounds unlike him.' "Oh, my dear friend, it is impossible not to give oneself away--unless one never opens one's mouth! Speech is the deadliest of revealers." "Even if people tell lies?" asked Mrs. Oliver. "Yes, madame, because it can be seen at once that you tell a certain kind of "You make me feel quite uncomfortable,'' said Mrs. Oliver, getting up. Superintendent Battle accompanied her to the door and shook her warmly by the hand. "You've been the goods, Mrs. Oliver," he said. "You're a much better detective than that long lanky Laplander of yours." "Finn," corrected Mrs. Oliver. "Of course he's idiotic. But people like him. Goodbye." "I, too, must depart," said Poirot. Battle scribbled an address on a piece of paper and shoved it into Poirot's hand. "There you are. Go and tackle her." Poirot smiled. "And what do you want me to find out?" "The truth about Professor Luxmore's death." "Mon chef Battle! Does anybody know the truth about anything?" "I'm going to about this business in Devonshire," said the superintendent with decision. Poirot murmured: "I wonder."
第十九章 会商
第十九章 会商

白罗家的电话响了，线那头传来一阵规规矩矩的人声。"我是奥康诺巡官。巴特探长问候你，请问赫邱里•白罗先生十一点三十分方不方便到苏格兰场来一趟？" 白罗给予肯定的答复，奥康诺巡官就把电话给挂断了。 白罗十一点三十分整在新苏格兰场的门口下了计程车－－立刻被奥利佛太太逮个正着。 "白罗先生。真棒！你肯不肯来救我？" "夫人，十分乐意。我能帮你什么忙呢？" "替我付计程车钱。不知道怎么回事，我带的是出国装外币用的皮包，可是这个人不肯收法郎、里拉或马克！" 白罗殷勤地掏出一点零钱来付帐，他和奥利佛太太一起走进大楼。 他们俩被迎进巴特探长的房间。探长坐在一张长几后面，显得比平时更呆板。奥利佛太太低声对白罗说："简直象一件现代雕刻物。" 巴特站起身，跟他们俩握手，大家一一坐下。 巴特说："我认为该开个小会议了。你们一定想听听我的进展，我也想听听你们进行的成绩。只等瑞斯上校来，就－－"此时们开了，上校走进来。 "巴特，抱歉我来迟了。你好，奥利佛太太。嗨，白罗先生。害你们等我，真抱歉。不过明天我要远行，有很多事要料理。" 奥利佛太太问道："你要去哪里？" "小小的射猎旅行－－到南亚的巴陆斯坦去。" 白罗讽笑说："那个地方出了麻烦，对不对？你得当心。" 瑞斯一本正经说："我会的"－－但是他两眼眨了几下。 巴特问道："先生，有没有为我们查到什么？" "我替你找到德斯帕的资料。喏－－"他推了一捆文件过来。 "上面有一大堆日期和地点。我想大部分不相干。没什么不利于他的证据。他是个勇敢果断的家伙，纪录完美无暇。严守纪律，处处受土著爱戴和信任。非洲人给他取了各种累赘的绰号，其中之一是'不爱说话而判断公正的人'。白种人则通称他为'可靠先生'。枪法好，头脑冷静，眼光远，十分可靠。" 巴特不为这一番颂词所动，问他："有没有什么暴死事件跟他相关？" "我特别注意这个问题。他曾救过一个人－－有个伙伴被狮子抓伤……" 巴特叹口气说："我要的不是救人的资料。" "巴特，你真是百折不挠的家伙。大概只有一件事能对上你的胃口。有一次远行到南美内部，德斯帕跟著名的植物学家鲁克斯摩尔教授夫妇同行，教授发烧死掉，葬在亚马逊的某一个地方。" "发烧－－呃？" "是发烧。不过我跟你交代清楚。有一位抬棺材的土著突然因偷窃而被解雇，他说教授不是发烧死掉，而是中枪死的。没有人认真追究这个传闻。" "也许该是认真的时候了。" 瑞斯摇摇头。"我已为你查出事实。你要的，你有权应用，不过我打赌那天晚上的下流事不是德斯帕干的。他是正人君子。" "你意思是说不可能犯谋杀罪？" 瑞斯上校犹豫不决。 他说："不可能干下我所谓的谋杀案－－是的，" "要是为了他心目中健全又充分的理由，却未必不会杀人，是这个意思吧？" "他若杀人，理由一定很健全很充分！" 巴特摇摇头。 "你不能让人类来审判别的人类，将法律抓在他们手里。" "巴特，有这种情形喔－－一这种情形。" "不该如此－－这是我的主张。白罗先生，你认为如何？" "巴特，我跟你有同感。我一向不赞成杀人。" 奥利佛太太说："好一个滑稽的说法。活像是猎狐或者打白鹭鸟来做女帽似的。你不认为有些人该杀吗？" "这……有可能。" "那不结了！" "你不了解。我最关心的不是受害人，而是这件事对凶手性格的影响。" "战争又如何？" "战争中个人并未行使判决的权利。危险就在此。一旦某人自认为他知道谁该活谁不该活－－他可能变成世上最危险的杀手，不为利益而为理想杀人的傲慢大暴徒。他僭夺了上帝的功能。" 瑞斯上校站起身。"抱歉不能陪你们。要做的事情太多了。我真想看这个案子了结。若说永远没结果，我不会吃惊的。就算你们发现凶手是谁，也很难很难证明。我把你要的事实交给你，但我认为凶手不是德斯帕。我不相信他谋杀过人。也许夏塔纳听到鲁克斯摩尔教授死亡的流言，我认为只是这样而已。德斯帕为人正直，我不相信他曾是凶手。这是我的主张。我对人性有几分了解。" "鲁克斯摩尔太太长得什么样子？"巴特问道。 "她住在伦敦，你不妨自己去看看。这些文件中有地址－－在南坎辛顿的某一个地方。不过我再说一边。凶手不是德斯帕。"瑞斯上校走出房间，脚步象猎人般敏捷，无声无息的。 门关上以后，巴特心事重重点头。他说："他的话也许没有错。瑞斯上校擅于知人。但我们凡事都得抱怀疑精神。" 他翻阅瑞斯摆在桌上的大堆文件，偶尔用铅笔在旁边的拍纸簿上写几个字。 奥利佛太太说："好啦，巴特探长，你不是要告诉我们你做些什么吗？" 他抬眼微笑，木头般的脸上慢慢浮出笑容。 "一切都不太完备，奥利佛太太。我希望你明了这一点。" 奥利佛太太说："胡扯。我就知道你不想说的事绝不会说给我们听。" 巴特摇摇头。 他断然说："不，亮出底牌－－是这回的座右铭。我有意公开行动。" 奥利佛太太把椅子拉近一点。 她哀求道："告诉我们吧。" 巴特探长慢慢说："首先，我要说一句话。到底谁杀夏塔纳先生，我想是不知道。他的文件中找不到任何线索或暗示。至于那四个人嘛，我当然派人盯了梢，却没什么实质的结果。这是预料的事。白罗先生说得不错，唯一的希望就是往事。查查这些人以前犯过什么罪－－也许能推断是谁干的。" "好啦，你发现什么没有？" "我发现其中一位的某些资料。" "哪一位？" "罗勃兹医生？" 奥利佛太太以兴奋和期待的表情望着他。 "白罗先生知道，我试验过各种理论。我确定他的近亲没有人暴死。我尽量探测每一处幽径，结果只发现一种可能－－而且可能性不高。几年前罗勃兹大概跟一位女病人稍有暧昧。也许没什么－－可是那个女人神经兮兮，喜欢闹事，丈夫大概听到了风声，不然就是妻子向他承认过。总之，就医生来说可谓大祸临头。愤怒的丈夫说要向医师公会报告－－这一来他的事业可能会毁掉。" 奥利佛太太喘不过气来说："出了什么事？" "罗勃兹暂时安抚了愤怒的绅士－－可是对方不久就死于炭疽热。" "炭疽热？那是牛瘟病呀？" 探长裂嘴一笑："对，奥利佛太太。不是南美印第安人那种无法追溯的箭毒！你大概记得，当时有一些廉价的刮胡刷感染了病菌，引起相当大的恐慌。事后证明克拉多克的病是由刮胡刷感染而来。" "是不是罗勃兹医生为他诊疗？" "噢，不，他精明得很，才不会这么做呢。克拉多克也一定不要他诊疗。我只得到一个证据－－珍贵的小证据－－当时罗勃兹医生的病人中有一名炭疽热的病例。" "你意思是说，医生在刮胡刷上沾染病毒？" "这是了不起的概念。告诉你，只是概念而已，没什么依旧。纯属猜测。不过有此可能。"  "事后他没娶克拉多克太太？" "噢，老天，没有，我想是女方依恋着他。我听说她有意闹事，后来却又高高兴兴到埃及去过冬，结果死在那儿。是暧昧的血毒症。病名很长，我想不能传达什么深意。那种病在这儿很少见，在埃及土著间却十分平常。""那么不可能是医生毒死她喽？" 巴特慢慢说："我不敢确定。我曾经跟一位研究细菌的朋友聊天－－要由这些人口中获得直接的答案可真难。他们永远不说出是与否，总是说'在某种情况下有可能'－－'要看接种者的病理情况而定'－－'以前有过这种例子'－－'大抵要看个人体质'－－全是这一类的话。不过我尽量逼问吾友，终于得到一点结论－－细菌有可能在她离开英国前注入体内。症状过一段时间才显现。" 白罗问道："克拉多克太太去埃及之前有没有打伤寒预防针？我想大多数人都有。" "白罗先生，被你说中了。" "由罗勃兹医生注射？" "对。你又猜对了－－我们无法证明。她依照常例打两针－－也有可能就是伤寒疫苗；或者其中一针是伤寒疫苗，另一针是别的。我们不知道。我们永远不会知道。一切纯属假设。只能说有此可能。" 白罗深思熟虑点点头。 "这跟夏塔纳先生对我说的话完全吻合。他褒奖成功的凶手，说人家绝对无法指认他们的罪。" 奥利佛太太问道："那夏塔纳先生又是如何知道的呢？" 白罗耸耸肩。"这我们永远探不出来。他本人一度在埃及住过。我们知道这一点，是因为他在那边认识洛瑞玛太太。他也许听当地的某一位医生提到克拉多克太太病情的某一种古怪特征－－说她感染的情形很奇怪。而他又在另一个场合听到罗勃兹和克拉多克太太之间的闲话。可能他跟医生说几句神秘的话来自娱，发现对方惊骇和警觉的目光－－这一切我们绝不会知道的。某些人特别擅于猜秘密。夏塔纳先生就是其中之一。不关我们的事。我们只需说－－他猜对了。他到底猜得对不对呢？" 巴特说："咦，我想他猜对了。我们这位快活和蔼的医师他大概不会太谨慎。我认识一两个他这一型的人－－真奇怪，同型的人怎么会如此类似。我认为他是天生的杀人犯。他害死克拉多克。克拉多克太太若开始讨人嫌，又惹出了丑闻，他也可能害死她。不过夏塔纳是不是他杀的？这才是真正的问题。比较几项罪行，我感到疑惑。克拉多克夫妇案，他两次都使用药物。我觉得他若杀夏塔纳，也会以医药为手段。他会用细菌，不会用刀。" 白罗咕哝道："罗勃兹退场。另外几个呢？" 巴特做出不耐烦的手势。 "我完全抽了空签。洛瑞玛太太已守寡二十年。她大抵住在伦敦，偶尔出国去过冬。文明的地方－－里维拉和埃及等地。找不到任何神秘的死亡事件和她相关连。她的生活似乎正常又高尚，她是个深通世故的女人。人人好象都尊敬她，对她的品格十分敬重。他们说她唯一的缺点就是受不了傻瓜！我承认追查这条线索失败了。不过一定有某些问题！夏塔纳认为她有。" 他垂头丧气叹息一声。"还有梅瑞迪斯小姐。我将她的身世查得清清楚楚。经历很普通－－是军官的女儿，父母没留下财物，她只得工作谋生，而她没受过任何训练。我查过她早年在契尔登汉的经历，都相当简单。人人都同情这位可怜的小东西。她先到维特岛的某户人家去住－－当保姆，兼做点家事。那位女主人现居巴勒斯坦，不过我跟她姊姊谈过，听说艾尔顿太太很喜欢这个女孩子。他们家没什么暴毙事件之类的。 "艾尔顿太太出国后，梅瑞迪斯小姐到德文郡一位同学的姑姑家当侍伴。那位同学现在跟她住在一起－－也就是露达•达威斯小姐。她在那边住了两年，后来迪林太太病重，不得不请正规的护士。我听说癌症。她还活着，但神智不清。我想经常用吗啡。我曾经访问过她。她还记得安妮，说安妮是好孩子。我又跟她的一位邻居谈过，那人应该能记得几年前的事情。教区内只有一两位老村民死亡，就我了解安妮•梅瑞迪斯从未跟他们接触过。 "此后又有瑞士的经历。我认为不妨查查那边的几椿死亡事件，可是没什么成果。瓦林福一地也没出过事。" 白罗问道："那么安妮•梅瑞迪斯没有嫌疑喽？" 巴特迟疑半晌，"我不敢确定。有一点－－她眼中有股惊惶的神色，我看不全然是为夏塔纳惊恐而造成的。她的戒心太强，警觉性太高，我打赌有问题。可是－－她的经历无懈可击。"  奥利佛太太深呼吸－－纯粹因喜悦而喘息。 她说："可是，有个女人误服毒药死亡，安妮•梅瑞迪斯正好在她家里。" 她的话引起强烈的效果，她没什么可抱怨的。 巴特探长在椅子上转身，讶然瞪着她。 "奥利佛太太，是真的吗？你怎么知道？" 奥利佛太太说："我一直在侦查呀。我从少女深上下功夫。我去看这两位姑娘，胡诌说我怀疑罗勃兹医生。露达姑娘很友善－－认为我是名人，感动极了。小梅瑞迪斯讨厌我去，表现得很明显。她十分多疑。她若没什么事要隐瞒，何必这样呢？我请她们到伦敦来看我。露达姑娘来了，脱口说出一切－－说安妮前几天对我失礼，是因为我的话害她想起一个惨痛的回忆，接着把那件事说出来。" "她有没有说是何时何地发生的？" "四、五年前在德文郡。" 探长低声叨念几句话，并在拍纸簿上乱涂乱写。他那木然的安祥感动摇了。奥利佛太太坐享她的胜利。对她而言，此时太甜蜜了。 巴特恢复原有的镇定。他说："奥利佛太太，我脱帽向你致敬。这回你赢得了我们的敬意。你探得的情报非常有价值。可见人很容易忽略一件事。" 他皱皱眉。 "无论那儿是什么地方，她逗留的时间一定不长，至多两个月。大概是离开维特岛之后，尚未前往迪林太太家时发生的。是的，一定是。艾尔顿太太的姊姊只记得她去德文郡的某个地方－－她记不清是谁家或什么地点。" 白罗说："请问这位艾尔顿太太是不是很懒散？" 巴特以好奇的目光打量他："白罗先生，你会这么说，真奇怪。我不懂你怎么知道的。她姊姊说话很清楚。我记得她曾说：'我妹妹好懒散好迷糊。'你怎么知道的？" 奥利佛太太说："因为她需要帮手嘛。"白罗摇摇头。 "不，不，不是。没什么关系。我只是好奇。巴特探长，继续说吧。" 巴特说："我也以为她由维特岛直接到迪林太太家。那位姑娘，她真狡猾，她骗过我了。始终在说谎。" "说谎不见得是有罪的征兆呀，"白罗说。 "我知道，白罗先生，有人天生爱撒谎。事实上，我认为她就是其中之一，老说些听来最好的话。不过隐匿这种事仍是大冒险。" "她不知道你已联想起过去的罪行，"奥利佛太太说。 "那就更没有理由隐匿这种小事了。大家都认为是意外死亡，所以她没有什么 好怕的－－除非她有罪。" "除非德文郡命案她有罪，不错，"白罗说。 巴特转向他。"噢，我知道就算那件意外死亡不全属意外，也未见得夏塔纳先生就是她杀的。不过别的命案也算命案呀。我希望能指认凶手的罪行。" 白罗说："依照夏塔纳的说法，根本不可能。" "那是罗勃兹的案子。梅瑞迪斯小姐那件事还要等着瞧。我明天去德文郡。" 奥利佛太太问道："你知不知道该去哪里查？我不想再向露达打听细节。" "不，你这样很聪明。我行事不会太难的。以前那边一定验过尸，我可以查验尸官的纪录。这是警方的例行工作，明天早上他们就会抄下来给我。" 奥利佛太太问道："德斯帕少校呢？你有没有查到他的任何资料？" "我一直等瑞斯上小的报告。当然啦，我曾派人跟踪他。有一件事挺有趣的。他曾到瓦林福去看梅瑞迪斯小姐。你们记得吧，他说他是前几天才认识她的。" 白罗咕哝道："不过她是非常漂亮的姑娘。" 巴特笑了。 "是的，我想只是这样罢了。对了，德斯帕不愿冒险。他已经请教过律师，好象预料会有麻烦。" 白罗说："他是瞻望未来的人，随时准备应付偶发的情况。" 巴特叹口气说："所以不太可能匆匆捅人一刀。" "除非没有别的办法，他不会这么做。记住，他能迅速采取行动。"白罗说。 巴特隔着桌子打量他。 "白罗先生，你的牌呢？你好象还没摊出来嘛。" 白罗笑一笑。"成果太少了。你以为我有事瞒着你？不是的。我没打听到多少事实。我跟罗勃兹医生、洛瑞玛太太和德斯帕少校谈过，还得跟梅瑞迪斯小姐谈。我探出了什么？罗勃兹医生观察力很敏锐；洛瑞玛太太专注的力量惊人，因此对周围的一切几乎毫无所感。不过她喜欢花。德斯帕只注意能吸引他的东西－－地毯啦、打猎的战利品等等。他既无我所谓的外在视野－－看见四周的细节，观察一切的特性－－也没有内在的视野－－专心一致，把心灵放在一个物体上的能力。他的眼光受到目标的限制。他只看得见跟自己心灵倾向调和的东西。" 巴特好奇问道："原来这就是你所谓的实证？" "本来就是实证。只是很小很杂罢了。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐呢？" "我最后才去看她。不过我也要问她记忆中屋内的情景。" 巴特思忖道："真是古怪的门径，纯心理式的。加入他们纯心迷惑你呢？" 白罗摇头微笑。"不，不可能。无论他们想阻碍我还是帮助我，他们必然会泄露心灵的类型。" 巴特沉思道："大概有点道理。不过我自己没办法用这一招来办案。" 白罗依旧微笑说："跟你和奥利佛太太比起来－－跟瑞斯上校比起来，我觉得成果很少。我摊在桌上的牌点数很低。" 巴特向他眨眨眼。"提到这一点，白罗先生，王牌２也许点数低，却可以吃另外三张Ａ哩。不过我求你做一件实际的工作。" "什么事？" "我要你去探望鲁克斯摩尔教授的遗孀。" "你为什么不自己去呢？" "我刚刚说过，我要去德文郡。" 白罗又问一边："你为什么不自己去呢？" "你不好骗，对吧？好，我说实话。我想你比我更能套出她的实话来。" "我的方法比较不直接了当。" 巴特咧嘴说："也可以这么说。我听贾普督察说你的脑袋很能骗人。" "象已故的夏塔纳先生？" "你认为他能套出她的话吗？" 白罗慢慢说："我想他已经套出她的话来了！" "你凭这样这样想呢？" "因为德斯帕偶然说过一句话。" "露出马脚，是不是？不太象他的作风嘛。" "噢，朋友，人不可能不露出马脚－－除非永远不开口！言辞最会泄露一个人的秘密。" 奥利佛太太问道："连说谎也会泄密？" "是的，夫人，因为这一来马上可看出你说哪一种谎。" "你害我觉得不自在，"奥利佛太太说着站起来。 巴特探长送她到门口，热情地跟她握别。 他说："奥利佛太太，你真能干，当侦探比你笔下的瘦拉布兰人强多了。" 奥利佛太太纠正道："他是芬兰人。他确实很笨，可是读者喜欢他。再见。" 白罗说："我也得走了。" 巴特在一张纸上写个地址，塞进白罗手中。 "喏，去套她的口风吧。" 白罗笑一笑。 "你要我查什么？" "鲁克斯摩尔教授死亡的真相。" "亲爱的巴特！有谁知道任何事的真相吗？" 探长下决心说："我要去查明德文郡这件事的真相。" 白罗咕哝道："我可不敢说。"
CHAPTER 20 The Evidence of Mrs. Luxmore
CHAPTER 20 The Evidence of Mrs. Luxmore

The maid who opened the door at Mrs. Luxmore's South Kensington address looked at Hercule Poirot with deep disapproval. She showed no disposition to admit him into the house. Unperturbed, Poirot gave her a card. "Give that to your mistress. I think she will see me." It was one of his more ostentatious cards. The words "Private Detective" were printed in one corner. He had had them specially engraved for the purpose of obtaining interviews with the so-called fair sex. Nearly every woman, whether conscious of innocence or not, was anxious to have a look at a private detective and find out what he wanted. Left ignominiously on the mat, Poirot studied the door-knocker with intense disgust at its unpolished condition. "Ah! for some Brasso and a rag," he murmured to himself.
Breathing excitedly the maid returned and Poirot was bidden to enter.
He was shown into a room on the first floor--a rather dark room smelling of stale flowers and unemptied ashtrays. There were large quantities of silk cushions of exotic colours all in need of cleaning. The walls were emerald green and the ceiling was of pseudo copper.
A tall, rather handsome woman was standing by the mantelpiece. She came forward and spoke in a deep husky voice.
"M. Hercule Poirot?"
Poirot bowed. His manner was not quite his own. He was not only foreign but-ornately foreign. His gestures were positively baroque. Faintly, very faintly, it was the manner of the late Mr. Shaitana.
"What did you want to see me about?"
Again Poirot bowed.
"If I might be seated? It will take a little time "
She waved him impatiently to a chair and sat down herself on the edge of a sofa.
"Yes? Well?"
"It is, madame, that I make the inquiriesthe private inquiries, you understand?"
The more deliberate his approach, the greater her eagerness.
"Yes--yes?"
"I make inquiries into the death of the late Professor Luxmore."
She gave a gasp. Her dismay was evident.
"But why? What do you mean? What has it got to do with you?"
Poirot watched her carefully before proceeding.
"There is, you comprehend, a book being written. A life of your eminent husband. The writer, naturally, is anxious to get all his facts exact. As to your husband's death, for instance "
She broke in at once:
"My husband died of fevern the Amazon."
Poirot leaned back in his chair. Slowly, very, very slowly, he shook his head to and froa maddening, monotonous motion. "Madame, madame "he protested. "But I know! I was there at the time."
"Ah, yes, certainly. You were there. Yes, my information says so."
She cried out:
"What information?"
Eyeing her closely Poirot said:
"Information supplied to me by the late Mr. Shaitana."
She shrank back as though flicked with a whip.
"Shaitana?" she muttered.
"A man," said Poirot, "possessed of vast stores of knowledge. A remarkable man. That man knew many secrets."
"I suppose he did," she murmured, passing a tongue over her dry lips.
Poirot leaned forward. He achieved a little tap on her knee.
"He knew, for instance, that your husband did not die of fever."
She stared at him. Her eyes looked wild and desperate.
He leaned back and watched the effect of his words.
She pulled herself together with an effort.
"I don't--I don't know what you mean."
It was very unconvincingly said.
"Madame," said Poirot, "I will come out into the open. I will," he smiled,
"place my cards upon the table. Your husband did not die of a fever. He died of a bullet!"
'"Oh!" she cried.
She covered her face with her hands. She rocked herself to and fro. She was in terrible distress. But somewhere, in some remote fibre of her being, she was enjoying her own emotions. Poirot was quite sure of that.
"And therefore," said Poirot in a matter-of-fact tone, "you might just as well tell me the whole story."
She uncovered her face and said:
"It wasn't in the least the way you think."
Again Poirot leaned forward again he tapped her knee.
"You misunderstand me--you misunderstand me utterly," he said. "I know very well that it was not you who shot him. It was Major Despard. But you were the cause."
"I don't know. I don't know. I suppose I was. It was all too terrible. There is a sort of fatality that pursues me."
"Ah, how true that is," cried Poirot. "How often have I not seen it? There are some women like that. Wherever they go, tragedies follow in their wake. It is not
their fault. These things happen in spite of themselves."
Mrs. Luxmore drew a deep breath.
"You understand. I see you understand. It all happened so naturally."
"You travelled together into the interior, did you not?"
"Yes. My husband was writing a book on various rare plants. Major Despard was introduced to us as a man who knew the conditions and would arrange the necessary expedition. My husband liked him very much. We started."
There was a pause. Poirot allowed it to continue for about a minute and a half and then murmured as though to himself.
"Yes, one can picture it. The winding river--the tropical night--the hum of
the insects--the strong soldierly man--the beautiful woman "
Mrs. Luxmore sighed. "My husband was, of course, years older than I was. I married as a mere child before I knew what I was doing " Poirot shook his head sadly. "I know. I know. How often does that not occur?" "Neither of us would admit what was happening," went on Mrs. Luxmore. "John Despard never said anything. He was the soul of honour." "But a woman always knows," prompted Poirot. "How right you are .... Yes, a woman knows .... But I never showed him that I knew. We were Major Despard and Mrs. Luxmore to each other right up to the end .... We were both determined to play the game." She was silent, lost in admiration of that noble attitude. "True," murmured Poirot. "One must play the cricket. As one of your poets so finely says, 'I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not cricket more.'" "Honour," corrected Mrs. Luxmore with a slight frown. "Of course--of course--honour. 'Loved I not honour more." "Those words might have been written for us," murmured Mrs. Luxmore. "No matter what it cost us, we were both determined never to say the fatal word. And then- "
"And then "prompted Poirot.
"That ghastly night." Mrs. Luxmore shuddered.
"Yes?"
"I suppose they must have quarrelled--John and Timothy, I mean. I came out
of my tent .... I came out of my tent..."
"Yes--yes?"
Mrs. Luxmore's eyes were wide and dark. She was seeing the scene as though it were being repeated in front of her.
"I came out of my tent," she repeated. "John and Timothy were Oh!" she
shuddered. "I can't remember it all clearly. I came between them I said 'No--no, it isn't true? Timothy wouldn't listen. He was threatening John. John had to fire in self-defence. Ah!" She gave a cry and covered her face with her hands. "He was dead stone dead--shot through the heart." "A terrible moment for you, madame." "I shall never forget it. John was noble. He was all for giving himself up. I refused to hear of it. We argued all night. 'For my sake,' I kept saying. He saw that in the end. Naturally he couldn't let me suffer. The awful publicity. Think of the headlines. Two Men and a Woman in the Jungle. Primeval Passions. "I put it all to John. In the end he gave in. The boys had seen and heard nothing. Timothy had been having a bout of fever. We said he had died of it. We buried him there beside the Amazon." A deep, tortured sigh shook her form. "And then--back to civilisation--and to part for ever." "Was it necessary, madame?" "Yes, yes. Timothy dead stood between us just as Timothy alive had don more so. We said good-bye to each other--for ever. I meet John Despard sometimes---out in the world. We smile, we speak politely--no one would ever guess that there was anything between us. But I see in his eyes--and he in mine that we will never forget .... " There was a long pause. Poirot paid tribute to the curtain by not breaking the silence. Mrs. Luxmore took out a vanity case and powdered her nose the spell was broken. "What a tragedy," said Poirot, but in a more everyday tone. "You can see, M. Poirot," said Mrs. Luxmore earnestly, "that the truth must never be told." "It would be painful. " "It would be impossible. This friend, this writer--surely he would not wish to blight the life of a perfectly innocent woman?" "Or even to hang a perfectly innocent man?" murmured Poirot. "You see it like that? I am so glad. He was innocent. A crime passionnel is not really a crime. And in any case it was in self-defence. He had to shoot. So you do understand, M. Poirot, that the world must continue to think Timothy died of fever?" Poirot murmured.
"Writers are sometimes curiously callous." "Your friend is a woman-hater? He wants to make us suffer? But you must not allow that. I shall not allow it. If necessary I shall take the blame on myself. I shall say I shot Timothy." She had risen to her feet. Her head was thrown back. Poirot also rose.
"Madame," he said as he took her hand, "such splendid self-sacrifice is unnecessary. I will do my best so that the true facts shall never be known."
A sweet womanly smile stole over Mrs. Luxmore's face. She raised her hand slightly, so that Poirot, whether he had meant to do so or not, was forced to kiss it. "An unhappy woman thanks you, M. Poirot," she said.
It was the last word of a persecuted queen to a favoured courtier--clearly an exit line. Poirot duly made his exit.
Once out in the street, he drew a long breath of fresh air.
第二十章 鲁克斯摩尔太太的证辞
第二十章 鲁克斯摩尔太太的证辞

到了鲁克斯摩尔太太南坎辛顿住宅，开门的使女用不以为然的目光望着赫邱里•白罗，不想放他进去。白罗神色自若，给她一张名片。 "交给你家女主人，我想她肯见我。" 这是他最浮华的名片，一角印着"私家侦探"等字眼，是为了求见女性而特别刻上去的。女性无论自觉清白与否，几乎都很想见见私家侦探，看他来干什么。
白罗屈屈辱辱站在门垫上，以厌恶的眼神打量未经擦洗的门环。他自言自语说："啊，脏兮兮。" 使女兴奋得气喘吁吁，回来叫白罗进去。 他被请入一楼的房间－－室内相当暗，有腐花和烟灰缸未倒的臭味。异国色调的丝垫子很多，全都有待清洗。墙壁呈翠绿色，天花板是假铜做的。一位高大俊秀的妇人站在壁炉架旁边。她上前以沙哑的嗓音说："赫邱里•白罗先生？" 白罗一鞠躬。他的仪态和往日不同，非但象外国人，而且象虚浮的外国人；姿势古怪极了，略微象已故的夏塔纳先生。 "你找我有什么事？" 白罗再鞠躬。 "我能不能坐下来？这事需要一点时间－－" 她不耐烦地挥手叫他坐下，自己也在沙发边缘坐下来。 "好啦，怎么？" "夫人，我来查访－－私人性的查访，你懂吧？" 他愈从容，她就愈急切。"嗯－－嗯？" "我要询问鲁克斯摩尔教授的死因。" 她张口喘气，显得很惊慌。 "为什么？你是什么意思？跟你有什么关系？" 白罗自信打量她才开口。 "你知道，有人正在写一本书，是令夫婿的传记。作者想确知他的一切事实。譬如你丈夫的死因－－" 她立刻插嘴。 "先夫发烧去世－－在亚马逊流域－－" 白罗仰靠在椅子上。慢慢地，很慢很慢地摆摆头－－动作单调，叫人发狂。 "夫人，夫人－－"他抗辩说。 "我知道！当时我在场。" "啊，是的，你在场。是的，我的情报是这么说的。" 她嚷道："什么情报？" 白罗密切打量她说："已故夏塔纳先生提供给我的情报。" 她往回缩，活像被人打了一鞭子。 "夏塔纳？"她喃喃地说。 白罗说："此人的学识甚丰。了不起的人。知道很多秘密。" 她以舌头舐舐干燥的嘴唇，低声说："我猜他知道。" 白罗的身子向前倾。他拍拍她的膝盖。"譬如他知道你丈夫不是发烧死的。" 她瞪着他，眼神疯狂又绝望。他向后仰，观察他的话有什么效果，她努力打起精神。 "我不知道－－我不知道你说什么。" 她的口吻很难叫人信服。 白罗说："夫人，我就明说吧。我要亮出我的底牌。你丈夫不是发烧死的。他是中弹死亡！" "噢！"她惊呼道。 她双手掩面，身子晃来晃去，痛苦极了。可是她内心深处好象正在享受自己的情绪。白罗能确定这一点。 白罗以平淡的口吻说："因此，你不如把事情完完整整告诉我。" 她露出面孔说："跟你想象的完全不同。" 白罗身子往前倾，又拍拍她的膝盖。他说："你误会我的意思；你完全误会了。我知道不是你射杀他。是德斯帕少校。不过你是主因。" "我不知道。我不知道。我想是吧。太可怕了。有一种孽根老是追着我不放。" 白罗嚷道："啊，真对。我不是常看到这种情形吗？有些女人就是如此。无论走到什么地方，悲剧总是跟着她们。错不在她们。事情发生是身不由己的。" 鲁克斯摩尔太太深深吸一口气。"你了解。我知道你了解。一切发生得好自然。" "你们一起到内陆旅行，对不对？" "是的。先夫正在写一本有关稀有动物的书。有人把德斯帕少校介绍给我们，说他知道情况，会安排必要的行程。先夫很喜欢他。我们出发了。" 她停顿片刻。白罗任由现场静默一分半钟，才仿佛自言自语说："是的，一切不难想象。蜿蜒的河流－－热带的夜晚－－昆虫的嗡嗡声－－强壮的军士型男子－－美丽的妇人－－" 鲁克斯摩尔太太叹了一口气。"先夫比我大许多岁。我出嫁时还象个孩子，不知道自己干什么。" 白罗凄然摇摇头。 "我知道。我知道。这种事常常发生的。" 鲁克斯摩尔太太继续说："我们俩都不承认有感情。约翰•德斯帕从来没说过什么。他是君子。" "可是女人总会知道的，"白罗怂恿道。 "你说得真对。是的，女人知道。不过我从来没向他表示我知道。我们自始至终以'德斯帕少校'和'鲁克斯摩尔太太'相称。我们都决心要光明正大。"她沉默下来，一心瞻仰那份高贵和情操。 白罗呢喃道："对，人必须光明磊落。贵国有位诗人说得好：'我若不更爱公正，就不会如此爱你。'" 鲁克斯摩尔太太皱眉纠正说："荣誉。" "当然－－当然－－荣誉。'我若不更爱荣誉……'" 鲁克斯摩尔太太低声说："这些话简直是为我们写的。无论我们付出多大的代价，我们都决心不说出那致命的字眼。后来－－" "后来－－"白罗催促道。 "一个可怕的晚上，"鲁克斯摩尔太太打了个寒噤。 "怎么？" "我猜他们吵过架－－我是指约翰和提摩太。我走出帐篷－－我走出帐篷－－" "怎么－－怎么？" 鲁克斯摩尔太太的眼睛又大又黑。往事仿佛重现在面前。她说："我走出帐篷，约翰和提摩太正－－噢！"她打了个冷颤。"我记不清楚，我走到他们中间说，'不－－不，这不是真的！'提摩太不肯听。他威胁约翰，约翰只得开枪－－自卫。啊！"她大叫一声，双手掩面。"他死了－－象石头一动也不动－－心口中枪。" "夫人，对你而言太可怕了。" "我永远忘不了。约翰真高贵，一心要自首，我不肯听。我们吵了一夜。我一再说'为了我'。最后他明白了。他不能让我受罪。想想此事公开的后果，想想新闻的标题。两男一女在丛林中。原始的情欲。 "我说给约翰听，最后他让步了。小伙子们没看到也没听到什么。提摩太发高烧。我们说他是发烧死的，将他葬在亚马逊河边。" 她痛苦叹息，浑身摇动。 "然后－－回文明世界－－永远分开。" "夫人，有必要吗？" "是的，是的，以前我们之间有提摩太，如今他死了，阻力更深。我们互相道别－－永远。偶尔在社交场合遇见约翰•德斯帕。我们笑咪咪，客客气气交谈；谁也猜不出我们之间有过往事。不过我看他的眼睛就知道－－他看我的眼睛就知道－－我们永远忘不了。" 话题停顿好一会儿。白罗观赏窗帘，未打破寂静。 鲁克斯摩尔太太拿出粉盒，在鼻子上敷粉。魔咒解除了。 白罗以家常口吻说："真是大悲剧。" 鲁克斯摩尔太太恳切地说："白罗先生，你明白，真相永远不能说出去。" "大概有困难－－" "不可能。你这位朋友，这位作家－－他一定不想损害一位无辜女子的生活吧？" 白罗咕哝道："甚至害一个无辜的汉子上绞架？" "你的看法如此？我很高兴。他是无辜的。情杀不算犯罪－－反正是自卫，他非开枪不可。白罗先生，那么你了解喽？世人依旧得认为提摩太是发烧死的。" 白罗喃喃地说："作家有时候狠心得出奇。" "你的朋友恨女人？他要害我们受罪？不过你千万别让他这么做。我不容许。必要时我会把罪过揽在自己身上。我会说是我开枪打提摩太的。" 她已站起身，脑袋向后仰。 白罗也站起来。他拉起她的手说："夫人，不必如此壮烈牺牲。我会尽量不让实情公诸于世。" 鲁克斯摩尔太太脸上悄悄泛出甜蜜娇柔的笑容。她轻轻举起手，无论白罗愿不愿意，都只得吻了一下。她说："白罗先生，一位不幸的女人向你致敬。" 真象一位受迫害的女王对心爱的臣子说出最后一句话－－显然是退场的对白。白罗及时退场。来到街上以后，他吸了一大口新鲜的空气。
CHAPTER 21 Major Despard
CHAPTER 21 Major Despard

"Quelle femme," murmured Hercule Poirot. "Ce pauvre Despard! Ce qu'il a du souffrir! Quel voyage pouvantable!"
Suddenly he began to laugh.
He was now walking along the Brompton Road. He paused, took out his watch, and made a calculation.
"But yes, I have the time. In any case to wait will do him no harm. I can now attend to the other little matter. What was it that my friend in the English police force used to sing--how many yearsforty years ago? 'A little piece of sugar for the bird.'"
Humming a long-forgotten tune, Hercule Poirot entered a sumptuous-looking shop mainly devoted to the clothing and general embellishment of women and made his way to the stocking counter.
Selecting a sympathetic-looking and not too haughty damsel he made known his requirements.
"Silk stockings? Oh, yes, we have a very nice line here. Guaranteed pure silk."
Poirot waved them away. He waxed eloquent once more.
"French silk stockings? With the duty, you know, they are very expensive." A fresh lot of boxes was produced.
"Very nice, mademoiselle, but I had something of a finer texture still in mind."
"These are a hundred gauge. Of course, we have some extra fine, but I'm afraid they come out at about thirty-five shillings a pair. And no durability, of course. Just like cobwebs."
"C'est fa, exactement."
A prolonged absence of the young lady this time.
She returned at last.
"I'm afraid they are actually thirty-seven and sixpence a pair. But beautiful, aren't they?"
She slid them tenderly from a gauzy envelopethe finest, gauziest wisps of stockings.
"Enfin--that is it exactly!"
"Lovely, aren't they? How many pairs, sir?"
"I want let me see, nineteen pairs."
The young lady very nearly fell down behind the counter, but long training in scornfulness just kept her erect.
"There would be a reduction on two dozen," she said faintly. "No, I want nineteen pairs. Of slightly different colours, please." The girl sorted them out obediently, packed them up and made out the bill. As Poirot departed with his purchase, the next girl at the counter said: "Wonder who the lucky girl is? Must be a nasty old man. Oh, well, she seems to be stringing him along good and proper. Stockings at thirty-seven and sixpence indeed!" Unaware of the low estimate formed by the young ladies of Messrs. Harvey Robinson's upon his character, Poirot was trotting homewards. He had been in for about half an hour when he heard the door-bell ring. A few minutes later Major Despard entered the room. He was obviously keeping his temper with difficulty. "What the devil did you want to go and see Mrs. Luxmore for?" he asked. Poirot smiled. "I wished, you see, for the true story of Professor Luxmore's death." "True story? Do you think that woman's capable of telling the truth about anything?" demanded Despard wrathfully, "Eh bien, I did wonder now and then," admitted Poirot. "I should think you did. That woman's crazy.' Poirot demurred. "Not at all. She is a romantic woman, that is all." "Romantic be damned. She's an out-and-out liar. I sometimes think she even believes her own lies." "It is quite possible." "She's an appalling woman. I had the hell of a time with her out there." "That also I can well believe." Despard sat down abruptly. "Look here, M. Poirot, I'm going to tell you the truth." "You mean you are going to give me your version of the story?" "My version will be the true version." Poirot did not reply. Despard went on dryly: "I quite realise that I can't claim any merit in coming out with this now. I'm telling the truth because it's the only thing to be done at this stage. Whether you believe me or not is up to you. I've no kind of proof that my story is the correct one." He paused for a minute and then began. "I arranged the trip for the Luxmores. He was a nice old boy quite batty about mosses and plants and things. She was a well, she was what you've no doubt observed her to be! That trip was a nightmare. I didn't care a damn for the woman--rather disliked her, as a matter of fact. She was the intense, soulful kind that always makes me feel pfiekly with embarrassment. Everything went all fight for the first fortnight. Then we all had a go of fever. She and I had it slightly. Old Luxmore was pretty bad. One night--now you've got to listen to this carefully--I was sitting outside my tent. Suddenly I saw Luxmore in the distance staggering off into the bush by the river. He was absolutely delirious and quite unconscious of what he was doing. In another minute he would be in the river--and at that particular spot it would have been the end of him. No chance of a rescue. There wasn't time to rush after him--only one thing to be done. My rifle was beside me as usual. I snatched it up. I'm a pretty accurate shot. I was quite sure I could bring the old boy down--get him in the leg. And then, just as I fired, that idiotic fool of a woman flung herself from somewhere upon me, yelping out, 'Don't shoot. For God's sake, don't shoot.' She caught my arm and jerked it ever so slightly just as the rifle went off with the result that the bullet got him in the back and killed him dead! "I can tell you that was a pretty ghastly moment. And that damned fool of a woman still didn't understand what she'd done. Instead of realising that she'd been responsible for her husband's death, she firmly believed that I'd been trying to shoot the old boy in cold blood--for love of her, ffyou please! We had the devil ora sceneshe insisting that we should say he'd died of fever. I was sorry fo, r her--especially as I saw she didn't realise what she'd done. But she'd have to realise it if the truth came out! And then her complete certainty that I was head over heels in love with her gave me a bit of a jar. It was going to be a pretty kettle of fish if she went 'about giving that out. In the end I agreed to do what she wanted--partly for the sake of peace, I'll admit. After all, it didn't seem to matter much. Fever or accident. And I didn't want to drag a woman through a lot of unpleasantness--even if she was a damnedfool. I gave it out next day that the professor was dead of fever and we buried him. The bearers knew the truth, of course, but they were all devoted to me and I knew that what I said they'd swear to if need be. We buried poor old Luxmore and got back to civilisation. Since then I've spent a good deal of time dodging the woman." He paused, then said quietly: "That's my story, M. Poirot." Poirot said slowly: "It was to that incident that Mr. Shaitana referred, or so you thought, at dinner that night?" Despard nodded. "He must have heard it from Mrs. Luxmore. Easy enough to get the story out of her. That sort of thing would have amused him." "It might have been a dangerous story--to you--in the hands of a man like Shaitana." Despard shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't afraid of Shaitana." Poirot didn't answer. Despard said quietly: "That again you have to take my word for. It's true enough, I suppose, that I had a kind of motive for Shaitana's death. Well, the truth's out now--take it or leave it." Poirot held out a hand. "I will take it, Major Despard. I have no doubt at all that things in South America happened exactly as you have described." Despard's face lit up. "Thanks," he said laconically. And he clasped Poirot's hand warmly.
第二十一章 德斯帕少校
第二十一章 德斯帕少校

赫邱里•白罗咕哝道："好一个女人！可怜的德斯帕！忍受这些！好一段可怕的旅程！"他突然笑起来。 他沿着布伦普吞路步行，现在停下脚步，拿出手表来计算时间。 "是的，我正好有时间。反正让他等一等也无妨。我可以去办另外一事小件。英国警方的朋友们以前唱什么歌来着－－多少年－－四十年前？'一小块糖给鸟吃。'"赫邱里•白罗哼着一首大家早就遗忘的歌曲，走进一间专卖女装和女性饰物的豪华商店，前往袜类柜台。他找了一位好象颇有同情心、不太骄傲的小姐，说明来意。 "丝制的长袜？噢，我们有很好的货色。保证是真丝。" 白罗挥手表示不要，再次运用唇舌。 "法国纯丝袜？你知道，加上关税很贵呦。" 她抽出一堆新盒子。 "很好，小姐，不过我要的是质地更佳的货色。" "当然。我们有一些特等的，可是价钱非常非常贵，又不耐穿，就象蜘蛛网似的。" "就是那种，对极了。" 这回小姐去了很久。 她终于回来了。 "美极了，不是吗？"她由薄纱套中轻轻拿出最细致、薄如蝉翼的丝袜。 "终于找到了－－正是这一种！" "迷人吧？先生要多少双？" "我要－－我看看，十九双。" 店员小姐差一点在柜台后面晕倒，幸亏她习惯侮慢，依旧站得直直的。她小声说："两打可以减价。" "不，我要十九双。每双颜色得略微不同；拜托。" 女店员乖乖挑出来包好，写下售货号码单。 白罗带着货品离开后，隔壁柜台的女店员说："不知道那个幸运的女孩子是谁？他一定是个下流老头。噢，算了，她似乎骗得她团团转。这么贵的丝袜，哼！" 白罗不知道店员小姐们低估他的品格，正慢慢走回家。 他进门半个钟头左右，门铃响了。几分钟后，德斯帕少校走进房间。他似乎好不容易才克制满腔的怒火。"你去看鲁克斯摩尔太太干什么？"他问道。 白罗微笑说："你知道，我想打听鲁克斯摩尔教授死亡的真相。" "真相？你以为那个女人说得出任何真相？"德斯帕怒极逼问道。 白罗承认说："噢，我也感到怀疑。" "我想你会的。那个女人疯疯癫癫。" 白罗表示异议。 "才不哩。她只是个罗曼蒂克型的女子罢了。" "罗曼蒂克个鬼。她完全是撒谎。有时候我看连她自己都相信她的谎言。" "很可能。" "她叫人毛骨悚然。我跟她在那边简直受罪。" "这一点我完全相信。" 德斯帕猝然坐下。"听着，白罗先生，我告诉你实话。" "你是说你要提出你的一套说法？" "我的说法和事实吻合。" 白罗没答腔。德斯帕淡然往下说："我知道说出来也不能讨什么功劳。我说实话是因为目前只有这个办法。信不信由你。我无法证明我的说法最正确。" 他静默一分钟才开始说话。 "我为鲁克斯摩尔夫妇安排行程。他是亲切的老头子，对苔藓和各种植物相当着迷。她则是－－咦，你依旧观察过她是哪一种人了！旅程简直象梦魇。我一点都不喜欢那个女人－－事实上还相当讨厌她。她太热情，老害我尴尬得难受。头两周没出什么问题。后来我们都发烧了。她和我的病情较轻。鲁克斯摩尔老头很严重。有一天夜里－－现在你得仔细听－－我坐在帐篷外面，突然看见鲁克斯摩尔老头远远向河边的灌木丛走去。他发烧烧得迷迷糊糊，对自己的行动毫无知觉。他眼看要掉进河里了，若在那个地点坠河，一定会淹死。不能冒险。跑过去救他来不及，只有一个办法。我的步枪照例在我身旁。我抓起枪。我的枪法相当准，自信能射中老头的腿部。我正要开枪，那个白痴女人居然扑到我身上，嘴里嚷着'别开枪，千万别开枪'。她抓住我的手臂，轻轻一扯，枪子射出去－－结果子弹射中他的背后，他中弹死亡！ "告诉你，现状真可怕。那个笨女人还不知道她闯了祸。她不知道自己该为丈夫的死亡负责，反而坚信我蓄意杀老头子－－因为爱她，你说怪不怪！我们闹得好厉害，她硬要宣布他发烧死掉。我为她难过，看她不知道自己闯祸，更替她伤心。可是真相说出来他荐非想通不可了。而且她百分之百认定我爱她入迷，害我真难受。她若到处这么嚷嚷，可就糟了。最后我同意照她的意思去做－－我承认，想图个清静。发烧或意外死亡毕竟没有多大的差别。虽然这个女人是天杀的呆子，我却不忍拖着她面对种种不愉快的经验。次日我宣布教授发烧死亡，我们为他举行葬礼。扛尸人当然知道真相，不过他们对我很忠实，必要时我说什么他们都肯发誓作证。我们葬好鲁克斯摩尔教授，回到文明世界。此后我费了不少工夫来躲避那个女人。" 他停下来，然后静静说："白罗先生，这是我的报告。" 白罗慢慢说："那天晚宴上，夏塔纳先生提的就是这回事，至少你这么想的吧？" 德斯帕点点头。"他一定是听鲁克斯摩尔太太说的。要套出她这段话很容易。而他一定觉得好玩。" "这段故事落在夏塔纳先生那种人手里－－对你来说－－危险性可能很大。" 德斯帕耸耸肩。 "我不怕夏塔纳。" 白罗没答腔。德斯帕平平静静说："这方面你也得听信我的话。不错，我有理由希望夏塔纳死掉。好啦，真相已说出来了；信不信由你。" 白罗伸出一只手。"德斯帕少校，我相信。我相信南美洲那件事跟你说的完全相符。" 德斯帕满面春风，简洁地说："谢谢。" 他热情地握住白罗的手。
CHAPTER 22 Evidence from Combeacre
CHAPTER 22 Evidence from Combeacre

Superintendent Battle was in the police station of Combeacre. Inspector Harper, rather red in the face, talked in a slow, pleasing Devonshire voice. "That's how it was, sir. Seemed all as right as rain. The docto was satisfied. Every one was satisfied. Why not?" "Just give me the facts about the two bottles again. I want to get it quite clear.' "Syrup of Figs-that's what the bottle was. She took it regular, it seems. Then there was this hat paint she'd been usingr rather the young lady, her companion, had been using for her. Brightening up a garden hat. There was a good deal left over, and the bottle broke, and Mrs. Benson herself said, 'Put it in that old bottle- the Syrup of Figs bottle.' That's all right. The servants heard her. The young lady, Miss Meredith, and the housemaid and the parlourmaid---they all agree on that. The paint was put into the old Syrup of Figs bottle and it was put up on the top shelf in the bathroom with other odds and ends." "Not relabelled?" "No. Careless, of course; the coroner commented on that." "Go oil." "On this particular night the deceased went into the bathroom, took down a Syrup of Figs bottle, poured herself out a good dose and drank it. Realised what she'd done and they sent offat once for the doctor. He was out on a case and it was some time before they could get at him. They did all they could, but she died." "She herself believed it to be an accident?" "Oh, yes---every one thought so. It seems clear the bottles must have got mixed up somehow. It was suggested the housemaid did it when she dusted, but she swears she didn't." Superintendent Battle was silent--thinking. Such an easy business. A bottle taken down from an upper shelf, put in place of the other. So difficult to trace a mistake like that to its source. Handled it with gloves, possibly, and anyway, the last prints would be those of Mrs. Benson herself. Yes, so easy--so simple. But, all the same, murder! The perfect crime. But why? That still puzzled him--why? "This young lady-companion, this Miss Meredith, she didn't come into money at Mrs. Benson's death?" he asked. Inspector Harper shook his head. "No. She'd only been there about six weeks. Difficult place, I should imagine. Young ladies didn't stay long as a rule." Battle was still puzzled. Young ladies didn't stay long. A difficult woman, evidently. But if Anne Meredith had been unhappy, she could have left as her predecessors had done. No need to kfil unless it were sheer unreasoniilg vindictiveness. He shook his head. That suggestion did not ring true. "Who did get Mrs. Benson's money?"
"I couldn't say, sir, nephews and nieces, I believe. But it wouldn't be very much-not when it was divided up, and I heard as how most of her income was one of these annuities."
Nothing there then. But Mrs. Benson had died. And Anne Meredith had not told him that she had been at Combeacre.
It was all profoundly unsatisfactory.
He made diligent and painstaking inquiries. The doctor was quite clear and emphatic. No reason to believe it was anything but an accident. Miss-couldn't remember her namenice girl but rather helpless--had been very upset and distressed. There was the vicar. He remembered Mrs. Benson's last companion--a modest-looking girl. Always came to church with Mrs. Benson. Mrs. Benson had been--not diffficult--but a trifle severe toward young people. She was the rigid type of Christian.
Battle tried one or two other people but learned nothing of value. Anne Meredith was hardly remembered. She had lived among them a few monthsthat was all-and her personality was not sufficiently vivid to make a lasting impression. A nice little thing seemed to be the accepted description.
Mrs. Benson loomed out a little more clearly. A self-righteous grenadier of a woman, working her companions hard and changing her servants often. A disagreeable woman--but that was all.
Nevertheless Superintendent Battle left Devonshire under the firm impression that, for some reason unknown, Anne Meredith had deliberately murdered her employer.
第二十二章 来自康比爱克城的证据
第二十二章 来自康比爱克城的证据

巴特探长正在康比爱克城的警察局里。哈普督察满面通红，以悦耳的德文郡嗓音慢慢说话。  "大人，就是这样，好象没问题嘛。医生弄明白了。人人都弄明白了。怎么？" "再说说那两个瓶子的事情给我听。我想弄个清楚。" "无花果糖浆－－这一瓶就是。她似乎按时服用。还有这一瓶涂帽子的漆，她自己使用，或者由陪侍她的小姐代为使用，把一顶花园帽抹得鲜艳一点。剩下很多，瓶子破了，班森太太自己说：'倒进那个旧瓶子里吧－－无花果糖浆的瓶子。'这没问题。佣人听她说的。侍伴梅瑞迪斯小姐、佣人和使女－－她们都一致这么说。涂帽子的色漆装进无花果糖浆的旧瓶子里，跟其它琐物一起放在浴室的顶架上。""没有重新贴标签？" "没有，确实太不当心了；验尸官曾这么说。" "说下去吧。" "某一天晚上，死者走进浴室，取下一个无花果糖浆的瓶子，倒一杯液体来喝，发现弄错，家人立刻去请医生。他出诊去了，大家隔一段时间才找到他。他们尽力施救，她却死了。" "她自己相信是意外？" "噢，是的，人人都这么想。瓶子不知怎么搞混了。有人说大概是女佣掸灰尘的时候换错，但她发誓没有。" 巴特探长不开腔，默默思考。真容易。把一个瓶子由顶架拿下来，跟另外一个瓶子对换。这种错误很难追查，可能是戴手套拿的，反正最后的指纹一定属于班森太太本人。是的，真容易－－真简单。不过仍算谋杀案呀！完美的罪行。可是动机呢？他依旧不解－－为什么杀人？  他问道："班森太太死后，梅瑞迪斯小姐没分到财产吧？" 哈普摇摇头，"没有。她才去六星期左右。我想那个地方不好待。小姐们通常都干不久。"  巴特依然想不通。小姐们都干不久，可见女主人难相处。但是，安妮•梅瑞迪斯如果不快乐，可以学前几任侍伴一走了之。用不着杀人－－出发是不合理的报复。他摇摇头。这个说法不合情理。 "谁分到班森太太的钱？" "大人，我不清楚，我相信是侄儿侄女之类的。但是数目不多－－分起来就不多了－－听说她大部分的收入来自养老金。" 那就没什么问题喽。不过班森太太暴毙，安妮•梅瑞迪斯没报告她在康比爱克城待过，这一切叫人难以释怀。 他辛勤查访。医生的口气清晰果决。没有理由相信不是意外呀。小姐－－想不起她姓什么了，可人的姑娘，一副无奈的样子－－当时她烦乱又可怜。还有教区牧师。他记得班森太太的最后一位侍伴－－看来亲切朴实，常陪班森太太上教堂。班森太太－－不难相处－－只是对年轻人有点儿严厉。她是严谨的基督徒。 巴特另外找了一两个人，却没打听到可用的资料。人家几乎想不起安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐了。她在当地住过一两个月－－如此而已－－她的个性不鲜明，没给人留下持久印象。"可人的小东西"似乎是大家公认的形容辞。 班森太太的形象则明显一点－－是个自以为是的女壮士，害侍伴们十分辛苦，又常常换佣人，很不讨人喜欢，但也仅此而已。 然而，巴特探长离开德文郡的时候，总觉得安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐基于某一理由故意害死雇主。
CHAPTER 23 The Evidence of a Pair of Silk Stockings
CHAPTER 23 The Evidence of a Pair of Silk Stockings

As Superintendent Battle's train rushed eastwards through England, Anne Meredith and Rhoda Dawes were in Hercule Poirot's sitting-room.
Anne had been unwilling to accept the invitation that had reached her by the morning's post, but Rhoda's counsel had prevailed.
"Anneyou're a cowardyes, a coward. It's no good going on being an ostrich, burying your head in the sand. There's been a murder and you're one of the suspects--the least likely one perhaps--
"That would be the worst," said Anne with a touch ofhumour. "It's always the least likely person who did it.'
"But you are one," continued Rhoda, undisturbed by the interruption. "And so it's no use putting your nose in the air as though murder was a nasty smell and nothing to do with you."
"It is nothing to do with me," Anne persisted. "I mean, I'm quite willing to answer any questions the police want to ask me, but this man, this Hercule Poirot, he's an outsider."
"And what will he think if you hedge and try to get out of it? He'll think you're bursting with guilt."
"I'm certainly not bursting with guilt,' said Anne coldly.
"Darling, I know that. You couldn't murder anybody ffyou tried. But horrible suspicious foreigners don't know that. I think we ought to go nicely to his house.
Otherwise he'll come down here and try to worm things out of the servants." "We haven't got any servants."
"We've got Mother Astwell. She can wag a tongue with anybody! Come on, Anne, let's go. It will be rather fun really."
"I don't see why he wants to see me." Anne was obstinate.
"To put one over on the official police, of course," said Rhoda impatiently. "They always do---the amateurs, I mean. They make out that Scotland Yard are all boots and brain lessness."
"Do you think this man Poirot is clever?"
"He doesn't look a Sherlock," said Rhoda. "I expect he has been quite good in his day. He's gaga now, of course. He must be at least sixty. Oh, come on, Anne,let's go and see the old boy. He may tell us dreadful things about the others." "All right," said Anne, and added, "You do enjoy all this so, Rhoda."
"I suppose because it isn't my funeral," said Rhoda. "You were a noodle, Anne, not just to have looked up at the right minute. If only you had, you could live like a duchess for the rest of your life on blackmail."
So it came about that at three o'clock of that same afternoon, Rhoda Dawes and Anne Meredith sat primly on their chairs in Poirot's neat room and sipped blackberry sirop (which they disliked very much but were too polite to refuse) from old-fashioned glasses.
"It was most amiable of you to accede to my request, mademoiselle," Poirot was saying.
"I'm sure I shall be glad to help you in any way I can," murmured Anne vaguely.
"It is a little mater of memory."
"Memory?"
"Yes, I have already put these questions to Mrs. Lorrimer, to Dr. Roberts and to Major Despard. None of them, alas, have given me the response that I hoped for."
Anne continued to look at him inquiringly.
"I want you, mademoiselle, to cast your mind back to that evening in the drawing-room of Mr. Shaitana."
A weary shadow passed over Anne's face. Was she never to be free of that nightmare?
Poirot noticed the expression.
"I know, mademoiselle, I know," he said kindly. "C'est pnible, n'est ce pas? That is very natural. You, so young as you are, to be brought in contact with horror for the first time. Probably you have never known or seen a violent death." Rhoda's feet shifted a little uncomfortably on the floor. "Well?" said Anne.
"Cast your mind back. I want you to tell me what you remember of that room?"
Anne stared at him suspiciously.
"I don't understand?"
"But, yes. The chairs, the tables, the ornaments, the wallpaper, the curtains, the fire-irons. You saw them all. Can you not then describe them?"
"Oh, I see." Anne hesitated, frowning. "It's difficult. I don't really think I remember. I couldn't say what the wallpaper was like. I think the walls were painted--some inconspicuous colour. There were rugs on the floor. There was a piano." She shook her head. "I really couldn't tell you any more."
"But you are not trying, mademoiselle. You must remember some object, some ornament, some piece of bricabrac?" "There was a case of Egyptian jewellery, I remember," said Anne slowly. "Over by the window." "Oh, yes, at the extreme other end of the room from the table on which lay the little dagger." Anne looked at him. "I never heard which table that was on." "Pas si bte," commented Poirot to himself. "But then, no more is Hercule Poirot! If she knew me better she would realise I would never lay a piege as gross as that!" Aloud he said: "A case of Egyptian jewellery, you say?" Anne answered with some enthusiasm. "Yes--some of it was lovely. Blues and red. Enamel. One or two lovely rings. And scarabsbut I don't like them so much." "He was a great collector, Mr. Shaitana," murmured Poirot. "Yes, he must have been," Anne agreed. "The room was full of stuff. One couldn't begin to look at it all." "So that you cannot mention anything else that particularly struck your notice?" Anne smiled a little as she said: "Only a vase of chrysanthemums that badly wanted their water changed."
"Ah, yes, servants are not always too particular about that."
Poirot was silent for a moment or two.
Anne asked timidly. "I'm afraid I didn't notice--whatever it is you wanted me to notice." Poirot smiled kindly. "It does not matter, mon enfant. It was, indeed, an outside chance. Tell me, have you seen the good Major Despard lately?" He saw the delicate pink colour come up in the girl's face. She replied:
"He said he would come and see us again quite soon."
Rhoda said impetuously: "He didn't do it, anyway! Anne and I are quite sure of that." Poirot twinkled at them. "How fortunates-to have convinced two such charming young ladies of one's innocence." "Oh, dear," thought Rhoda. "He's going to be French, and it does embarrass me so. She got up and began examining some etchings on the wall. "These are awfully good," she said. "They are not bad," said Poirot. He hesitated, looking at Anne. "Mademoiselle," he said at last. "I wonder if I might ask you to do me a great favour--oh, nothing to do with the murder. This is an entirely private and personal matter." Anne looked a little surprised. Poirot went on speaking in a slightly embarrassed manner. "It is, you understand, that Christmas is coming on. I have to buy presents for many nieces and grand-nieces. And it is a little difficult to choose what young ladies like in this present time. My tastes, alas, are rather old-fashioned." "Yes?" said Anne kindly.
"Silk stockings, now--are silk stockings a welcome present to receive?" "Yes, indeed. It's always nice to be given stockings."
"You relieve my mind. I will ask my favour. I have obtained some different colours. There are, I think, about fifteen or sixteen pairs. Would you be so amiable as to look through them and set aside half a dozen pairs that seem to you the most desirable?"
"Certainly I will," said Anne, rising, with a laugh.
Poirot directed her towards a table in an alcove--a table whose contents were strangely at variance, had she but known it, with the well-known order and neatness of Hercule Poirot. There were stockings piled up in untidy heaps--some fur-lined gloves---calendars and boxes of bonbons.
"I send off my parcels very much l'avance," Poirot explained. "See, mademoiselle, here are the stockings. select me, I pray of you, six pairs."
He turned, intercepting Rhoda, who was following him.
"As for mademoiselle here, I have a little treat for her--a treat that would be no treat to you, I fancy, Mademoiselle Meredith." "What is it?" cried Rhoda. He lowered his voice.'
"A knife, mademoiselle, with which twelve people once stabbed a man. It was given me as a souvenir by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits." "Horrible," cried Anne.
"Ooh! Let me see," said Rhoda.
Poirot led her through into the other room, talking as he went.
"It was given me by the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits because they passed out of the room.
They returned three minutes later. Anne came towards them.
"I think these six are the nicest, M. Poirot. Both these are very good evening shades, and this lighter colour would be nice when summer comes and it's daylight in the evening."
"Mille remerciments, mademoiselle."
He offered them more sirop, which they refused, and finally accompanied them to the door, still talking genially.
When they had finally departed he returned to the room and went straight to the littered table. The pile of stockings still lay in a confused heap. Poirot counted the six selected pairs and then went on to count the others.
He had bought nineteen pairs. There were now only seventeen.
He nodded his head slowly.
第二十三章 丝袜为证
第二十三章 丝袜为证

巴特探长坐火车穿越英格兰往东走的时候，安妮•梅瑞迪斯和露达•达威斯正在赫邱里•白罗的座谈室里。 安妮早晨收到邮寄的邀请函，不愿意赴约，露达好不容易说服她。 "安妮，你真懦弱－－是的，懦弱。学鸵鸟把脑袋埋进沙堆是没有用的。命案发生了，你是嫌犯之一－－也许看来最不象－－" 安妮带点幽默说："这样最糟糕。通常都是看来最不象的人干的。" 露达不为所动说："不过你是其中之一，别翘起鼻子，假装命案太难闻，跟你无关。" 安妮始终说："本来就跟我无关嘛。我意思是说，我愿意回答警方的问题，而这位赫邱里•白罗却是局外人。" "你若不合作，想置身事外，他会怎么想呢？他会以为你作贼心虚。" "我当然不是心虚，"安妮冷冷说。 "宝贝，我知道，你不可能杀人。但是多疑的外国佬不知道呀。我想我们该乖乖到他家。否则他会来这儿，设法套佣人的口风。" "我们没有佣人。" "我们有爱斯特威尔嬷嬷。她跟谁都乱嚼舌根！来安妮，我们去吧。一定很好玩。" "我不懂他为什么要见我。"安妮很固执。 露达不耐烦地说："当然是想赢过警方嘛。他们常常如此－－我是指业余侦探，他们认定苏格兰场的人全是笨蛋，没有脑筋。" "你认为白罗这个人很聪明？" 露达说："他看来不象福尔摩斯。我想他年轻时很棒。当然啦，现在老糊涂了。他至少六十岁了吧。噢，来，安妮，我们去见见这个老头子。他也许会说说另外几个人的可怕事迹。" 安妮说："好吧。露达，你就喜欢这些。" 露达说："大概事不关己，我才这样吧。安妮，你真笨，不在恰当的时刻抬头望一眼。否则你下半辈子靠敲诈过活，可以跟公爵夫人一样富裕。" 就这样，那天下午三点钟，露达•达威斯和安妮•梅瑞迪斯坐在白罗那间整洁的屋子里，用旧式的玻璃杯喝黑草莓汁，她们不喜欢喝，却又不好意思拒绝。 白罗说："小姐，你肯应邀前来，真好。" 安妮含含糊糊说："我乐于尽量协助你。" "是一点记忆的小问题。" "记忆？" "是的，我已经问过洛瑞玛太太、罗勃兹医生和德斯帕少校。哎呀，没有一个人说出我渴望的答案。" 安妮继续用质疑的目光打量他。 "小姐，我要你回想那天晚上夏塔纳先生家的客厅。" 安妮脸上露出疲乏的阴影。难道她永远摆脱不了那个恶梦吗？ 白罗注意她的表情。 他和颜悦色说："我知道，小姐，我知道。痛苦，不是吗？这是很自然的。你这么年轻，头一次接触恐怖的事情。也许你从来没听过或见过暴毙的场面。" 露达的双脚在地板上蠢蠢不安。 "噢？"安妮说。 "脑筋往回转。我要你说说记忆中那间屋子的情形。" 安妮满怀疑虑瞪着他。"我不懂？" "你懂的。椅子、桌子、装饰品、壁纸、窗帘、拨火工具……你全都看见了。你不能描述一下吗？" 安妮迟疑一下，皱皱眉。"噢，我懂了。很难。我大概记不清。我说不出壁纸的花色，我想墙上刷了油漆－－颜色不明显。地上有地毯。有一架钢琴。"她摇摇头。"我真的说不出什么了。" "小姐，你没试呀。你一定记得某件物品、某一样装饰物、某一件小玩意儿？"  安妮慢慢说："我记得有一盒埃及珠宝，在窗边。" "噢，就在房间另一头，跟放小匕首的桌子相隔很远。" 安妮望着他。"我没听说匕首放在哪一张桌子上。" 白罗自忖道：没那么笨，否则我就不是赫邱里•白罗了！只要她跟我熟一点，就知道我从来不布这么粗的陷阱！ 他说："你说一盒埃及珠宝？" 安妮答得很热心。"是的－－有些很迷人。蓝的和红的；还有珐琅。一两个迷人的戒指。另有甲虫型的宝石－－但是我不太喜欢。" 白罗咕哝道："夏塔纳先生，他是大收藏家。" 安妮同意道："是的，一定是。屋里摆满东西。不可能一下子全看尽。" "那你说不出什么特别引起你注意的东西喽。" 安妮微笑说："只有一瓶菊花，谁好久没换了。" "啊，是的，佣人往往不太讲究这种事。"白罗沉默一两分钟。 安妮怯生生说："我恐怕没注意到－－你要我注意的东西。" 白罗客客气气微笑。"没关系，孩子。机会本来就不大。告诉我，你最近有没有见过德斯帕少校？" 他发现少女脸上泛出浅浅的红潮。她回答说："他说他过不久会来看我。" 露达鲁莽地说："可是他没来！安妮和我可以确定这一点。" 白罗向他们眨眨眼睛。 "能叫两位这么迷人的小姐相信某人无辜－－真幸运。" 露达暗想："噢，老天，他慢慢显出法国作风来了，害我尴尬。" 她站起来，端详墙上的几幅蚀刻版画。她说："棒极了。" 白罗答道："还不错。" 他犹豫半晌，望着安妮，终于说："小姐，不知道能不能请你帮个忙－－噢，跟命案无关，完全是私事。"  安妮显得有点吃惊，白罗装出尴尬的表情继续说："是这样，你知道，圣诞节快要到了。我得买礼物送给许多侄女和孙侄女。现在要选购小姐们喜欢的东西真难。哎呀，我的眼光相当落伍。" "噢？"安妮欣然问道。 "丝制长袜，喏，丝制长袜是不是受欢迎的礼物？" "是的，的确是。收到丝袜挺不错的。" "你这么说我就放心了。我想请你帮忙。我弄到一些颜色不同的丝袜，总共大概十五或十六双。你能不能逐一检视，替我挑出六双你认为最讨人喜欢的？" 安妮笑着站起来说："当然可以。" 白罗解释说："我提前寄包裹。看，小姐，丝袜在这儿，请你替我选六双。" 他转身拦住跟在他后面的露达。 "至于这位小姐，我要招待她看一样东西。梅瑞迪斯小姐，我猜你一定不想看。" "是什么？"露达嚷道。 他压低了嗓门。"小姐，是一把刀－－曾经有十二个人用它来刺死一名男子。国际卧车公司送我当纪念品。" "恐怖，"安妮叫道。 "哇！让我瞧瞧，"露达说。 白罗带她走进另一个房间，边走边说话。"国际卧车公司送给我，是因为－－"他们已踏出房门外。 他们三分钟后回来，安妮迎上前去。"白罗先生，我认为这六双最好看。这两双是完美的黄昏色调。浅一点的颜色则等夏天到了，傍晚有日光时会相当怡人。" "多谢，小姐。" 他再请她们喝黑草莓汁，她们婉谢了；最后他送小姐们到门口，边走边谈。客人走后，他回到房间，整理乱糟糟的桌子。那堆丝袜仍乱糟糟堆在那儿。白罗算算六双选出来的，再算算其它的丝袜。 他一共买了十九双，现在只剩下十七双了。他慢慢点点头。
CHAPTER 24 Elimination of Three Murderers?
CHAPTER 24 Elimination of Three Murderers?

On arrival in London, Superintendent Battle came straight to Poirot. Anne and Rhoda had then been gone an hour or more.
Without more ado, the superintendent recounted the result of his researches in Devonshire.
"We're on to it--not a doubt of it," he finished. "That's what Shaitana was aiming at--with his 'domestic accident' business. But what gets me is the motive. Why did she want to kill the woman?"
"I think I can help you there, my friend."
"Go ahead, M. Poirot."
"This afternoon I conducted a little experiment. I induced mademoiselle and her friend to come here. I put to them my usual questions as to what there was in the room that night."
Battle looked at him curiously.
"You're very keen on that question."
"Yes, it's useful. It tells me a good deal. Mademoiselle Meredith was suspicious--very suspicious. She takes nothing for granted, that young lady. So that good dog, Hercule Poirot, he does one of his best tricks. He lays a clumsy amateurish trap. Mademoiselle mentions a case of jewellery. I say was not that at the opposite end of the room from the table with the dagger. Mademoiselle does not fall into the trap. She avoids it cleverly. And after that she is pleased with herself, and her vigilance relaxes. So that is the object of this visit--to get her to admit that she knew where the dagger was, and that she noticed it! Her spirits rise when she has, as she thinks, defeated me. She talked quite freely about the jewellery. She has noticed many details of it. There is nothing else in the room that she remembers--except that a vase of chrysanthemums needed its water changing."
"Well?" said Battle.
"Well, it is significant, that. Suppose we knew nothing about this girl. Her words would give us a clue to her character. She notices flowers. She is, then, fond of flowers? No, since she does not mention a very big bowl of early tulips which would at once have attracted the attention of a flower lover. No, it is the paid companion who speaks--the girl whose duty it has been to put fresh water in the vases--and, allied to that, there is a girl who loves and notices jewellery. Is not that, at least, suggestive?"
"Ah," said Battle. "I'm beginning to see what you're driving at."
"Precisely. As I told you the other day, I place my cards on the table. When you recounted her history the other day, and Mrs. Oliver made her startling announcement, my mind went at once to an important point. The murder could not have been committed for gain, since Miss Meredith had still to earn her living after it happened. Why, then? I considered Miss Meredith's temperament as it appeared superficially. A rather timid young girl, poor, but well-dressed, fond of pretty things .... The temperament, is it not, of a thief, rather than a murderer. And I asked immediately if Mrs. Eldon had been a tidy woman. You replied that no, she had not been tidy. I formed a hypothesis. Supposing that Anne Meredith was a girl with a weak streak in her character--the kind of girl who takes little things from the big shops. Supposing that, poor, and yet loving pretty things, she helped herself once or twice to things from her employer. A brooch, perhaps, an odd half-crown or two, a string of beads. Mrs. Eldon, careless, untidy, would put down these disappearances to her own carelessness. She would not suspect her gentle little mother's-help. But, now, suppose a different type of employer--an employer who did noticeaccused Anne Meredith of theft. That would be a possible motive for murder. As I said the other evening, Miss Meredith would only commit a murder through fear. She knows that her employer will be able to prove the theft. There is only one thing that can save her: her employer must die. And so she changes the bottles, and Mrs. Benson dies--ironically enough convinced that the mistake is her own, and not suspecting for a minute that the cowed, frightened girl has had a hand in it."
"It's possible," said Superintendent Battle. "It's only a hypothesis, but it's possible."
"It is a little more than possible, my friend it is also probable. For this afternoon I laid a little trap nicely baited--the real trap--after the sham one had been circumvented. If what I suspect is true, Anne Meredith will never, never be able to resist a really expensive pair of stockings! I ask her to aid me. I let her know carefully that I am not sure exactly how many stockings there are, I go out of the room, leaving her alone---and the result, my friend, is that I have now seventeen pairs of stockings, instead of nineteen, and that two pairs have gone away in Anne Meredith's handbag."
"Whew!" Superintendent Battle whistled. "What a risk to take, though."
"Pas du tout. What does she think I suspect her of? Murder. What is the risk, then, in stealing a pair, or two pairs, of silk stockings? I am not looking for a thief. And, besides, the thief, or the kleptomaniac, is always the same convinced that she can get away with it."
Battle nodded his head.
"That's true enough. Incredibly stupid. The pitcher goes to the well time after time. Well, I think between us we've arrived fairly clearly at the truth. Anne Meredith was caught stealing. Anne Meredith changed a bottle from one shelf to another. We know that was murder but I'm damned if we could ever prove it. Successful crime No. 2. Roberts gets away with it. Anne Meredith gets away with it. But what about Shaitana? Did Anne Meredith kill Shaitana?"
He remained silent for a moment or two, then he shook his head.
"It doesn't work out right," he said reluctantly. "She's not one to take a risk. Change a couple of bottles, yes. She knew no one could fasten that on her. It was absolutely safe---because any one might have done it! Of course, it mightn't have worked. Mrs. Benson might have noticed before she drank the stuff, or she mightn't have died from it. It was what I call a hopeful kind of murder. It might work or it mightn't. Actually, it did. But Shaitana was a very different pair of shoes. That was deliberate, audacious, purposeful murder."
Poirot nodded his head.
"I agree with you. The two types of crime are not the same."
Battle rubbed his nose.
"So that seems to wipe her out as far as he's concerned. Roberts and the girl, both crossed off our list. What about Despard? Any luck with the Luxmore woman?"
Poirot narrated his adventures of the preceding afternoon.
Battle grinned.
"I know that type. You can't disentangle what they remember from what they invent."
Poirot went on. He described Despard's visit, and the story the latte had told.
"Believe him?" Battle asked abruptly.
"Yes, I do."
Battle sighed.
"So do I. Not the type to shoot a man because he wanted the man's wife. Anyway, what's wrong with the divorce court? Every one flocks there. And he's not a professional man; it wouldn't ruin him, or anything like that. No, I'm of the opinion that our late lamented Mr. Shaitana struck a snag there. Murderer No. 3 wasn't a murderer, after all." He looked at Poirot. "That leaves--?"
"Mrs. Lorrimer," said Poirot. The telephone rang. Poirot got up and answered it. He spoke a few words, waited, spoke again. Then he hung up the receiver and returned to Battle. His face was very grave. "That was Mrs. Lorrimer speaking," he said. "She wants me to come round and see her--now." He and Battle looked at each other. The latter shook his head slowly. "Am I wrong?" he said. "Or were you expecting something of the kind?" "I wondered," said Hercule Poirot. "That was all. I wondered." "You'd better get along," said Battle. "Perhaps you'll manage to get at the truth at last."
第二十四章 剔除三位凶手？
第二十四章 剔除三位凶手？

巴特探长抵达伦敦，直接来找白罗。当时安妮和露达已走了一个多钟头。 探长立即报告他在德文郡研究的成果。 他说："我们向这方面发展－－毫无疑问。夏塔纳说：'家居型的意外'就是指这个。不过动机问题难倒我了。她为什么害死女主人呢？" "朋友，这方面我大概能帮你忙了。" "说吧，白罗先生。" "今天下午我做了一个小实验。我请小姐和她的朋友来这儿。我照例问那天晚上房间里有什么东西。" 巴特好奇地打量他。 "你对这个问题很热中。" "是的，很管用，让我知道不少事情。梅瑞迪斯小姐疑心重；凡事都抱怀疑的态度。于是赫邱里•白罗使出最棒的一招。他假意设下笨拙的陷阱。小姐提到一盒首饰。我说：'是不是在房间另一头，跟放匕首的桌子隔得很远？'小姐没落入圈套。她巧妙避开了。这一来她对自己很满意，戒心就松了。原来此行的目标就在此！想诱她承认知道匕首放在什么地方，而她发现了！她自以为击败了我，精神大振，遂大谈珠宝，原来她注意到不少细节。而屋里其它的东西她都想不起来了－－只记得有一瓶菊花没换水。" "怎么？"巴特说。 "怎么，意义重大呀。假设我们对这个女孩子一无所知，由她的话来推想她的性格。她注意到花儿－－那她喜欢花喽？不，有一大钵早开的郁金香，爱花的人应该一眼就注意到，她却没提起。不，说话的是领薪水的侍伴－－她曾负责在花瓶中换上新鲜的水－－而且这位姑娘喜欢珠宝，注意珠宝。这至少有提示作用吧？"巴特说："啊，我渐渐看出你的打算了。" "不错，前几天我告诉过你，我把自己的底牌亮出来了。那天你叙述她的身世，奥利佛抬头讲出一段惊人的话，我立刻想到一个重点。命案发生后，梅瑞迪斯小姐仍得工作谋生，可见她不是为谋财而杀人。那又为什么呢？我斟酌梅瑞迪斯小姐浮面显出的性格。她生性胆怯，贫穷，却穿得考究，喜欢漂亮的东西。这种人比较不可能当凶手，却可能当小偷吧？我立刻问艾尔顿太太的习性整不整洁。你说她生性邋遢。我做了一个假设。如果安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐人格有缺陷－－属于会在大商店顺手牵羊的一型；假设这位贫穷的可人儿私自拿了雇主的一两次东西，譬如胸针啦，一两枚银币啦，一串珠子啦；艾尔顿太太漫不经心，懒懒散散，以为东西是她自己不小心弄丢的。她不会怀疑温柔的小帮手。可是现在换了不同型的雇主－－注意细节－－也许会指控安妮•梅瑞迪斯偷窃。这可能是她杀人的动机。我前几天说过，梅瑞迪斯小姐只会因恐惧而杀人。她知道雇主会指证窃案；唯有雇主死了，她才能得救。于是她掉换药瓶，班森太太死了，至死还以为是自己弄错，不疑心吓慌了的侍伴姑娘动手脚。" 巴特探长说："有此可能。只是假设，却颇有可能。" "朋友，不但有可能，而且机率极高。今天下午我设了一个钓饵－－在她躲过假陷阱之后，另设一个真陷阱。加入我的想法正确，安妮•梅瑞迪斯绝对抗拒不了其贵无比的真丝袜，我请她帮忙。我特意让她以为我搞不清丝袜有多少双。我走出房间，留她一个人在那儿－－朋友，结果我的十九双丝袜变成十七双，有两双进了安妮•梅瑞迪斯的手提包。" 巴特探长吹了一声口哨："咻！好冒险喔。" "才不呢。她认为我怀疑她什么？杀人。那么偷一两双丝袜又有什么危险呢？我又不是查小偷。何况小偷或窃盗狂老是一样，总相信自己能顺利得手。"巴特点点头。 "这是真话。笨得难以置信。积习难改。好啦，我想我们已明了真相了。安妮•梅瑞迪斯偷窃被逮到，遂将药瓶由某个架子换到另一个架子上。我们知道这是谋杀，但我们能证明才有鬼哩。第二椿成功的谋杀案。罗勃兹犯罪没受罚。安妮•梅瑞迪斯犯罪没受罚。可是夏塔纳案如何呢？夏塔纳是不是安妮•梅瑞迪斯杀的？" 他沉默了一两分钟，然后摇摇头，勉强说："不相符。她不是爱冒险的人。掉换两个瓶子，她会的。她知道没有人能赖在她身上：安全无虞，因为谁都可能掉换呀！当然事情未必会成功。班森太太可能未喝就发现，也可能喝了没有死。这是我所谓'希望型'的谋杀。成败都有可能。事实上已经成功了。不过夏塔纳案的情况不同。那件命案是故意的、大胆的、有目标的。" 白罗点点头。"我有同感。两件命案不同型。" 巴特揉揉鼻子。"所以，她似乎不是此案的凶嫌。罗勃兹和少女都由名单上剔除。德斯帕呢？访问鲁克斯摩尔太太有什么收获？"白罗叙述昨天的下午奇遇。
巴特咧咧嘴。"我知道这一型的女人，你分不清哪些话是她们的回忆，哪些是杜撰的。" 白罗继续往下说，他描述德斯帕来访的情形以及他说的话。 "相信他？"巴特猝然问道。 "是的，我相信。" 巴特叹了一口气。"我也相信。这种人不会因为看上某人的太太而射杀他。打官司离婚有什么不妥呢？人人都往那边挤，他又不是专业人士；这种事不会毁掉他的前途。不，我认为已故的夏塔纳先生在这方面触了礁。第三号凶手根本不是凶手。" 他看看白罗。 "那就只剩－－" "洛瑞玛太太，"白罗说。 电话铃响了。白罗起身去接。他说了一两句话，等一等，又开口说话，接着挂起听筒，回到巴特身边。 他表情很严肃。 他说："是洛瑞玛太太打来的。她要我过去看她－－现在就去。" 他和巴特对望一眼。后者慢慢摇头。他说："是不是我弄错了？你预料有这种事吗？" 赫邱里•白罗说："我觉得奇怪，我只是奇怪而已。" 巴特说："你去吧。也许你最后能查明真相。"
CHAPTER 25 Mrs. Lorrimer Speaks
CHAPTER 25 Mrs. Lorrimer Speaks

The day was not a bright one, and Mrs. Lorrimer's room seemed rather dark and cheerless. She herself had a grey look, and seemed much older than she had done on the occasion of Poirot's last visit. She greeted him with her usual smiling assurance. "It is very nice of you to come so promptly, M. Poirot. You are a busy man, I know." "At your service, madame," said Poirot with a little bow. Mrs. Lorrimer pressed the bell by the fireplace. "We will have tea brought in. I don't know what you feel about it, but I always think it's a mistake to rush straight into confidences without any decent paving of the way." "There are to be confidences, then, madame?" Mrs. Lorrimer did not answer, for at that moment her maid answered the bell. When she had received the order and gone again, Mrs. Lorrimer said dryly: "You said, if you remember, when you were last here, that you would come if I sent for you. You had an idea, I think, of the reason that should prompt me to send." There was no more just then. Tea was brought. Mrs. Lorrimer dispensed it, talking intelligently on various topics of the day. Taking advantage of a pause, Poirot remarked: "I hear you and little Mademoiselle Meredith had tea together the other day." "We did. You have seen her lately?" "This very afternoon." "She is in London, then, or have you been down to Wallingford?" "No. She and her friend were so amiable as to pay me a visit." "Ah, the friend. I have not met her." Poirot said, smiling /little: "This murder--it has made for a rapprochement. You and Mademoiselle Meredith have tea together. Major Despard, he, too, cultivates Miss Meredith's acquaintance. The Dr. Roberts, he is perhaps the only one out of it."
"I saw him out at bridge the other day;" said Mrs. Lorrimer. "He seemed quite his usual cheerful self." "As fond of bridge as ever?" "Yes--still making the most outrageous bids--and very often getting away with it." She was silent for a moment or two, then said: "Have you seen Superintendent Battle lately?" "Also this afternoon. He was with me when you telephoned." Shading her face from the fire with one hand, Mrs. Lorrimer asked: "How is he getting on?" Poirot said gravely: "He is not very rapid, the good Battle. He gets there slowly, but he does get there in the end, madame." "I wonder." Her lips curved in a faintly ironical smile. She went on: "He has paid me quite a lot of attention. He has delved, I think, into my past history right back to my girlhood. He has interviewed my friends, and chatted to my servants---the ones I have now and the ones who have been with me in former years. What he hoped to find I do not know, but he certainly did not find it. He might as well have accepted what I told him. It was the truth. I knew Mr. Shaitana very slightly. I met him at Luxor, as I said, and our acquaintanceship was never more than an acquaintanceship. Superintendent Battle will not be able to get away from these facts." "Perhaps not," said Poirot. "And you, M. Poirot? Have not you made any inquiries?" "About you, madame?" "That is what I meant." Slowly the little man shook his head. "It would have been of no avail." "Just exactly what do you mean by that, M. Poirot?" "I will be quite frank, madame, I have realised from the beginning that, of the four persons in Mr. Shaitana's room that night, the one with the best brains, with the coolest, most logical head, was you, madame. If I had to lay money on the chance of one of those four planning a murder and getting away with it successfully, it is on you that I should place my money." Mrs. Lorrimer's brows rose. "Am I expected to feel flattered?" she asked dryly. Poirot went on, without paying any attention to her interrupt?on. "For a crime to be successful, it is usually necessary to think every detail of it out beforehand. All possible contingencies must be taken into account. The timing must be accurate. The placing must be scrupulously correct. Dr. Roberts might bungle a crime through haste and over-confidence; Major Despard would probably be too prudent to commit one; Miss Meredith might lose her head and give herself away. You, madame, would do none of these things. You would be clearheaded and cool, you are sufficiently resolute of character, and could be sufficiently obsessed with an idea to the extent of overruling prudence, you are not the kind of woman to lose her head." Mrs. Lorrimer sat silent for a minute or two, a curious smile playing round her lips. At last she said: "So that is what you think of me, M. Poirot. That I am the kind of woman to commit an ideal murder."
"At least you have the amiability not to resent the idea."
"I find it very interesting. So it is your idea that I am the only person who could successfully have murdered Shaitana?"
Poirot said slowly:
"There is a difficulty there, madame."
"Really? Do tell me?"
"You may have noticed that I said just now a phrase something like this: 'For'a crime to be successful it is usually necessary to plan every detail of it carefully beforehand.' 'Usually' is the word to which I want to draw your attention. For there/s another type of successful crime. Have you ever said suddenly to any one, 'Throw a stone and see if you can hit that tree,' and the person obeys quickly, without thinking--and surprisingly often he does hit the tree? But when he comes to repeat the throw it is not so easy--for he has begun to think. 'So hard--no harder--a little more to the right--to the left.' The first was an almost unconscious action, the body obeying the mind as the body of an animal does. Eh bien, madame, there is a type of crime like that--a crime committed on the spur of the moment--an inspiration--a flash of genius--without time to pause or think. And that, madame, was the kind of crime that killed Mr. Shaitana. A sudden dire necessity, a flash of inspiration, rapid execution."
He shook his head.
"And that, madame, is not your type of crime at all. If you killed Mr. Shaitana, it should have been a premeditated crime.”
"I see." Her hand waved softly to and fro, keeping the heat of the fire from her face. "And, of course, it wasn't a premeditated crime, so I couldn't have killed him---eh, M. Poirot?"
Poirot bowed.
"That is right, madame."
"And yet "She leaned forward, her waving hand stopped. "I did kill Shaitana, M. Poirot .... "
第二十五章 洛瑞玛太太发言
第二十五章 洛瑞玛太太发言

那天天气不晴朗，洛瑞玛太太的房间相当暗，有点儿凄凉。她自己的外貌也阴阴沉沉，显得比白罗上次来访时衰老多了。 她照例含着笑，充满自信更他打招呼。 "白罗先生，多谢你立刻赶来。我知道你是忙人。" 白罗轻轻鞠躬说："夫人，有事请吩咐。" 洛瑞玛太太按一按壁炉边的铃。 "我们叫人端茶来。我不知道你的感觉如何，我觉得不好好铺路，直接谈机密是错误的。" "夫人，那你有机密要谈喽？" 
此时女佣应铃声而来，洛瑞玛太太没答腔。女佣听令走了以后，洛瑞玛太太淡然说："你记不记得上次来这儿，你说我若请你你就来。我想你知道我请的原因吧？" 话说到此为止。茶端来了。洛瑞玛太太倒茶待客，改谈当时的各种话题。 白罗利用空挡说："听说前几天你和梅瑞迪斯小姐一起喝茶。" "是啊。你最近见到她了。" "今天下午。" "她在伦敦，还是你赶到瓦林福去？" "不，她和她的朋友好意来探访我。" "啊，那位朋友，我没碰见过。" 白罗微笑说："这件命案－－培养出一些交情。你和梅瑞迪斯小姐一起喝茶。德斯帕少校也和梅瑞迪斯小姐缔交。只有罗勃兹医生没参加。" 洛瑞玛太太说："前几天我在桥牌桌上遇见他。他还是那副快活的样子。" "照旧爱打桥牌？" "是的，叫牌仍旧叫得离谱－－却往往顺利得手。" 她沉默一两刻才说："你最近有没有看到巴特探长？" "也是今天下午见面的。你打电话的时候，他正在我旁边。" 洛瑞玛太太以手遮住照在脸上的火光说："他查案查得怎么样了？" 白罗一本正经说："巴特啊，他的速度不快。夫人，他进展很慢，但最后总算有点眉目了。" "不知道……"她依稀露出讽刺的笑容，继续说："他相当注意我。我想他挖掘我过去的经历一致挖到少女时代。他访问我的朋友，跟我的佣人聊天－－包括我现在的佣人和以前雇过的人。我不知道他想查什么，但他一定没查到。他还不如听我的说法哩。我句句实言。我跟夏塔纳先生不太熟。我说过，我是在鲁瑟城认识他的，仅是相熟而已。巴特探长无法脱离这些事实。" "也许没有办法，"白罗说。 "白罗先生，你呢？你没查询过什么吗？" "查你的事，夫人？" "我正是这个意思。" 小老头慢慢摇摇头。 "那样没有用。" "白罗先生，你这话是什么意思呢？" "夫人，我坦白说吧。打从开始我就发现那天晚上在夏塔纳房间里的四个人就数你脑筋最好，最冷静，最合逻辑。若要我打赌四个人中谁能计划杀人，顺利得手，我一定打赌是你。" 洛瑞玛太太眉毛一扬。 她淡然问道："我该觉得受宠若惊吗？" 白罗不在乎她打岔，继续说下去。"已故案子若要成功，通常得预先想好每一个细节。一切可能的偶发的情况都得列入考虑。时间要算得准。地点必须选得正确。罗勃兹医生也许会因太自信而草率犯案，德斯帕少校也许因为太世故而不下手，梅瑞迪斯小姐也许会昏了头，泄露底细。而你夫人绝不会如此。你头脑冷静，个性果决，执着某一概念时可以压倒审慎的顾虑，但你绝不会昏了头。" 洛瑞玛太太闷坐一两分钟，唇边挂着古怪的笑容。最后她说："白罗先生，原来你认为我－－我是那种会犯理想谋杀罪的女人。" "至少你不讨厌这个主意。" "我觉得很有趣。原来你认为只有我能谋杀夏塔纳成功。" 白罗慢慢说："这一点稍有争议，夫人。" "真的？说给我听吧。" "你大概发觉我刚才说了这么一句话：一件案子要成功，通常得预先仔细计划每一个细节。我要你注意'通常'二字。还有一种刑案也会成功。你可曾突然对人说：'扔一粒石子，看看能不能打中那棵树。'那人毫不思考，立刻照做－－往往能打中那棵树。可是他再试，就不容易成功了，因为他开始思考。'力道如此即可－－别加重－－略微向右－－向左一点。'头一回是不冲动－－灵感－－天才突发－－没有时间犹豫或思考。夫人，杀死夏塔纳先生的罪行属于这一类。突然的需要，瞬间的灵感，迅速执行。" 他摇摇头。"夫人，这根本不是你易犯的那一种罪行。你若杀夏塔纳先生，一定是预谋行凶。" "我明白了。"她的手轻轻摇来摇去，挥开炉火喷在脸上的热气。"当然啦，这不是预谋行凶，所以不可能是我杀的－－呃，白罗先生？" 白罗一鞠躬。"对的，夫人。" "可是－－"她向前探身，挥动的手突然停下来－－"白罗先生，我确实杀了夏塔纳－－"   
CHAPTER 26 The Truth
CHAPTER 26 The Truth

There was a pausea very long pause.
The room was growing dark. The firelight leaped and flickered.
Mrs. Lorrimer and Hercule Poirot looked not at each other, but at the fire. It was as though time was momentarily in abeyance.
Then Hercule Poirot sighed and stirred.
"So it was that--all the time .... Why did you kill him, madame?"
"I think you know why, M. Poirot."
"Because he knew something about you--something that had happened long ago?"
"Yes."
"And that something wasanother death, madame?" She bowed her head. Poirot said gently:
"Why did you tell me? What made you send for me today?" "You told me once that I should do so some day." "Yes--that is, I hoped .... I knew, madame, that there was only one way of learning the truth as far as you were concerned and that was by your own free will. If you did not choose to speak, you would not do so, and you would never give yourself away. But there was a chance that you yourself might w/sh to speak." Mrs. Lorrimer nodded. "It was clever of you to foresee that--the weariness--the loneliness " Her voice died away.
Poirot looked at her curiously. "So it has been like that? Yes, I can understand it might be .... " "Alonequite alone," said Mrs. Lorrimer. "No one knows what that means unless they have lived, as I have lived, with the knowledge of what one has done." Poirot said gently: "Is it an impertinence, madame, or may I be permitted to offer my sympathy?' She bent her head a little. "Thank you, M. Poirot." There was another pause, then Poirot said, speaking in a slightly brisker tone: "Am I to understand, madame, that you took the words Mr. Shaitana spoke at dinner as a direct menace aimed at you?" She nodded. "I realised at once that he was speaking so that one person should understand him. That person was myself. The reference to a woman's weapon being poison was meant for me. He knew. I had suspected it once before. He had brought the conversation round to a certain famous trial, and I saw his eyes watching me. There was a kind of uncanny knowledge in them. But, of course, that night I was quite sure." "And you were sure, too, of his future intentions?" Mrs. Lorrimer said dryly: "It was hardly likely that the presence of Superintendent Battle and yourself was an accident. I took it that Shaitana was going to advertise his own cleverness by pointing out to you both that he had discovered something that no one else had suspected." "How soon did you make up your mind to act, madame?" Mrs. Lorrimer hesitated a little. "It is difficult to remember exactly when the idea came into my mind," she said. "I had noticed the dagger before going in to dinner. When we returned to the drawing-room I picked it up and slipped it into my sleeve. No one saw me do it. I made sure of that." "It would be dexterously done, I have no doubt, madame." "I made up my mind then exactly what I was going to do. I had only to carry it out. It was risky, perhaps, but I considered that it was worth trying.' "That is your coolness, your successful weighing of chances, coming into play. Yes, I see that." "We started to play bridge," continued Mrs. Lorrimer. Her voice was cool and unemotional. "At last an opportunity arose. I was dummy. I strolled across the room to the fireplace. Shaitana had dozed off to sleep. I looked over at the others. They were all intent on the game. I leant over and--and did it " Her voice shook just a little, but instantly it regained its cool aloofness. "I spoke to him. It came into my head that that would make a kind of alibi for "I really believe you are mad, M. Poirot. If I am willing to admit I committed the crime, I should not be likely to lie about the way I did it. What would be the point of such a thing?" Poirot got up again and took one turn round the room. When he came back to his seat his manner had changed. He was gentle and kindly. "You did not kill Shaitana," he said softly. "I see that now. I see everything. Harley Street. And little Anne Meredith standing forlorn on the pavement. I see, too, another girl--a very long time ago, a girl who has gone through life always alone--terribly alone. Yes, I see all that. But one thing I do not see--why are you so certain that Anne Meredith did it?" "Really, M. Poirot " "Absolutely useless to protest--to lie further to me, madame. I tell you, I know the truth. I know the very emotions that swept over you that day in Harley Street. You would not have done it for Major Despard, non plus. You would not have done it for Dr. Roberts--oh, no! But Anne Meredith is different. You have compassion for her, because she has done what you once did. You do not know even--or so I imaginewhat reason she had for the crime. But you are quite sure she did it. You were sure that first evening--the evening it happened--when Superintendent Battle invited you to give your views on the case. Yes, I know it all, you see. It is quite useless to lie further to me. You see that, do you not?" He paused for an answer, but none came. He nodded his head in satisfaction. "Yes, you are sensible. That is good. It is a very noble action that you perform there, madame, to take the blame on yourself and to let this child escape." "You forget," said Mrs. Lorrimer in a dry voice, "I am not an innocent woman. Years ago, M. Poirot, I killed my husband " There was a moment's silence. "I see," said Poirot. "It is justice. After all, only justice. You have the logical mind. You are willing to suffer for the act you committed. Murder is murder--it does not matter who the victim is. Madame, you have courage, and you have clearsightedness. But I ask of you once more: How can you be so sure? How do you know that it was Anne Meredith who killed Mr. Shaitana?' A deep sigh broke from Mrs. Lorrimer. Her last resistance had gone down before Poirot's insistence. She answered his question quite simply like a child. "Because," she said, "I saw her."
第二十六章 真相
第二十六章 真相

现场静默下来－－静默良久良久。屋内渐暗，火光闪闪烁烁。 洛瑞玛太太和赫邱里•白罗不看彼此，却望着火光。时间仿佛暂时停止了。后来赫邱里•白罗叹口气，动了一下。"原来如此－－始终如此。夫人，你为什么要杀他？" "白罗先生，我想你知道原因嘛。" "因为他知道你的一些事迹？一件很久以前发生的事？" "是的。" "那件事－－牵扯到另一个人的死亡，夫人？" 她低下头。 白罗柔声说："你为什么要告诉我？今天为什么叫我来？" "你说过我迟早会这么做。" "是的－－那是，我希望－－夫人，我知道要探求有关你的事实只有一个办法，就是靠你自由意志。你若不想说，你绝不会说的，你永远不会泄了底。可是有一线机会－－你自己也许愿意说出来。" 洛瑞玛太太点点头。"你能预先看出－－那份疲惫感，那份寂寞－－实在很聪明。" 她的声音愈来愈小。 白罗好奇地打量她。"原来是这样？是的，我了解有此可能。" 洛瑞玛太太说："孤孤单单－－孤孤单单。除非一个人象我这样，自知做了错事还活着，他绝不了解其中的含义。" 白罗轻声说："夫人，我若表示同情，会不会失礼？" 她略微低下头。 "白罗先生，谢谢你。" 现场又静默一段时间；后来白罗用活泼一点的口吻说："夫人，你意思是说，你认为夏塔纳先生在晚宴上说的话是直接威吓你？" 她点点头。"我立刻发觉他说话是要给某一个人听的。那个人就是我。所谓'毒药是女人的武器'是针对我而言。他知道。以前我就疑心了。他曾把话题扯到某一次著名的审判，我看他的眼睛望着我，表示他知道某一件隐秘的事情。但是那天晚上我相当肯定。" "而且你确定他将来的意图？" 洛瑞玛太太淡然说："巴特探长和你在场并非巧合。我想夏塔纳要向你们指出他发现了别人未曾疑心的刑案。表示自己很聪明。" "夫人，你什么时候下决心采取行动？" 洛瑞玛太太有点踌躇。 她说："很难确知这个念头什么时候进入我脑海。我进去吃晚餐之前就发现匕首了。大家回到客厅，我把它拿起来藏在袖子里。没有人看见。我敢确定。" "夫人，我相信你行动很敏捷。" "当时我打定主意要下手。只需执行到底就成了。也许很冒险，但我认为只得一试。" "你的冷静，你权衡得失的判断力……派上了用场。是的，我明白。" 洛瑞玛太太继续说下去，嗓门冷静，不带感情。"我们开始打桥牌。最后机会来了。我当'梦家'。我逛到对面的壁炉边，夏塔纳打盹儿睡着了。我看看别人。他们正专心玩牌。我探身－－干了－－" 她的声音微微颤抖，但是瞬间又恢复高傲和冷静。 "我跟他说话，暗想这可作为我辩解的口实。我提到炉火，假装他答腔了，我又说：'我有同感，我也不喜欢电热炉。'" "他没有叫嚷吗？" "没有。他大概闷哼了一声－－如此而已。远处听来也许象说话。" "然后呢？" "然后我回到牌桌边。他们正在玩最后一圈牌。" "你坐下来继续打？" "是的。" "对桥牌依旧充满兴趣，甚至两天后，还能告诉我每一圈叫的牌和打的牌？" "是的，"洛瑞玛太太说。 赫邱里•白罗说："惊人！" 他仰靠在椅子上，点了几次头。然后突然一变，改为摇头。 "夫人，还有一些事我想不通。" "嗯？" "我总觉得有些因素我想不通。你是一个事事仔细斟酌和衡量的人。基于某一理由，你决定要冒大险。你试了－－而且成功了。可是不出两星期你就改变主意。夫人，坦白说，我总觉得不合理。" 她唇边泛出古怪的笑容。 "白罗先生，你说得好，有个因素你确实不晓得。梅瑞迪斯小姐有没有告诉你前几天她在什么地方跟我碰面？" "她好象说是奥利佛太太家附近。" "我相信如此。不过我是指确切的街名。安妮•梅瑞迪斯是在哈莉街碰到我的。"（译注：哈莉街有许多名医。） 他专心望着她："啊，我渐渐明白了。" "是的，我想你会明白的。我去那边看一位医学专家，他证实了我已怀疑的病情。" 她的笑口往外展开，不再怪异或苦涩，突然变得很甜。"白罗先生，我打桥牌打不了多久了。噢，医生没费这么多口舌。他略微隐瞒真相，说我若非常当心，也许能再活几年。但是我不愿事事小心，我不是那种人。" "是的，是的，我渐渐明白了。"白罗说。 "你知道，这就不同了。这一来只能再活一个月－－或两个月－－不可能更久。我一离开那位专家，就碰见梅瑞迪斯小姐。我请她陪我喝茶。" 她中止片刻，又往下说。"我毕竟不是无可救药的坏女人。喝茶时间，我一直思考。我前几天的行动不但剥夺了夏塔纳的生命－－那已无可挽回了－－而且影响了另外三个人的生活。为了我的行为，罗勃兹医生、德斯帕少校和安妮•梅瑞迪斯这些未曾伤害我的人都遭到严厉的考验，甚至有危险。这一点我至少可以挽回。我倒不特别为罗勃兹医生或德斯帕少校的苦难动心－－虽然他们眼前的人生远比我长多了，但他们是男人，还能照顾自己。可是我望着安妮•梅瑞迪斯－－" 她犹豫一会才慢慢说："安妮•梅瑞迪斯仍是少女。她的前程远大。这件惨祸也许会毁了她的一生。我想起来就难过。白罗先生，我心中起了这些念头之后，自知你那天说的话实现了。我不能缄默。今天下午我打电话给你－－" 时间一分一秒过去。赫邱里•白罗身子往前倾。他隔着渐增的暮色细细打量洛瑞玛太太。她也静静凝视他，一点都不紧张。 他终于说："洛瑞玛太太，你确定－－你能肯定，你肯跟我说实话吧？谋杀夏塔纳先生真的不是预谋？你真的没有实现计划过？你去赴宴时脑子里并没有谋杀的打算？" 洛瑞玛太太凝视他一会，然后猛摇头。"没有，"她说。 "你不是事先计划好这件命案？" "当然不是。" "那－－那－－噢！你对我撒谎－－你一定是撒谎－－" 洛瑞玛太太的嗓音象冰霜刺如空中。 "白罗先生，你真的忘形了。" 小老头跳起来。他在室内踱方步，喃喃自语，一直发出声音。突然说："容许我？"并走到开关前面，扭开电灯。 他回来坐在椅子上，双手放在膝头，笔直盯着女主人。 他说："问题是赫邱里•白罗有可能搞错吗？" "没有人是永远对的，"洛瑞玛太太冷冷静静说。 白罗说："我就是，我永远是对的。一成不变，叫我震惊。不过现在看来好象是我弄错了。我心烦意乱。你大概知道自己说些什么吧。这是你的命案嘛！赫邱里•白罗居然比你更知道犯案的情形，可就怪了！" 洛瑞玛太太更加冷静说："古怪，而且很荒唐。" "那我大概疯了吧。我一定是疯了。不－－凭一个小男孩的圣名发誓－－我没有疯！我的看法是对的。我一定是对的。我愿意相信你杀了夏塔纳先生－－但是你不可能以你叙述的方式来杀他。人不可能做出违反个性的事情！" 他停下来。洛瑞玛太太气冲冲吸了口气，咬咬嘴唇。她正要说话，白罗先开口。"要嘛就是事先计划杀夏塔纳－－要嘛就根本不是你杀的！" 洛瑞玛太太厉声说："我真的相信你疯了，白罗先生。我既肯承认杀人，对于杀人的方式不可能撒谎的。这样做有什么意思呢？" 白罗站起来，在室内绕一圈。他回到座位时，态度改了；变得斯文又和气。 他柔声说："你没有杀夏塔纳，现在我明白了。我样样都明白了。哈莉街－－小安妮•梅瑞迪斯孤单单站在人行道上。我仿佛看见多年前的另一个女孩子，生活曾孤单得可怕。是的，我全明白了。不过有一点我不懂－－你凭什么确定是安妮•梅瑞迪斯干的？" "白罗先生，真的－－" "夫人，争辩也没有用，不必再对我撒谎了。告诉你，我知道真相。我知道你那天在哈莉街的心情。你不会为罗勃兹医生顶罪－－噢，不！你也不会为德斯帕少校这么做。可是安妮•梅瑞迪斯不一样。出事那天晚上，巴特探长请你说出对此案的看法，你其实已经确定了。是的，我全知道。再对我撒谎是没有用的。你明白吧？"他停下来等对方答腔，可是对方不说话。他点头表示满意。 "是的，你通情达理，很不错。夫人，你包揽罪责，让那孩子脱身，真是高贵的行为。" 洛瑞玛太太淡然说："你忘了，我并非清白的女子。白罗先生，多年前我曾害死先夫。" 现场沉默片刻。 白罗说："我明白，这是公理，唯一的公理。你有逻辑头脑。你愿意为当年的罪行受罚。杀人罪就是杀人罪－－受害者是谁都没有差别。夫人，你勇敢，眼光也清晰。但是我再问一遍，你怎么能肯定呢？你怎么知道是安妮•梅瑞迪斯杀死夏塔纳先生？" 洛瑞玛太太深深叹息一声。白罗坚持到底，她最后的抗拒力消失了。她象小孩般简单答复他的问题。 她说："因为我看见啦。"
CHAPTER 27 The EyeWitness
CHAPTER 27 The EyeWitness

Suddenly Poirot laughed. He could not help it. His head went back, and his high Gallic laugh filled the room. "Pardon, madame," he said, wiping his eyes. "I could not help it. Here we argue and we reason! We ask questions! We invoke the psychology--and all the time there was an eye-witness of the crime. Tell me, I pray of you." "It was fairly late in the evening. Anne Meredith was dummy. She got up anQ looked over her partner's hand, and then she moved about the room. The hand wasn't very interesting--the conclusion was inevitable. I didn't need to concen-trate on the cards. Just as we got to the last three tricks I looked over towards the fireplace. Anne Meredith was bent over Mr. Shaitana. As I watched, she straightened herself her hand had been actually on his breast--a gesture which awakened my surprise. She straightened herself, and I saw her face and her quick look over towards us. Guilt and fear--that is what I saw on her face. Of course, I didn't know what had happened then. I only wondered what on earth the girl could have been doing. Later--I knew."
Poirot nodded.
"But she did not know that you knew. She did not know that you had seen her?"
"Poor child," said Mrs. Lorrimer. "Young, frightened--her way to make in the world. Do you wonder that I--well, held my tongue?"
"No, no, I do not wonder."
"Especially knowing that I--that I myself "She finished the sentence with a shrug. "It was certainly not my place to stand accuser. It was up to the police." "Quite so--but to-day you have gone further than that." Mrs. Lorrimer said grimly:
"I've never been a very soft-hearted or compassionate woman, but I suppose these qualities grow upon one in one's old age. I assure you, I'm not often actuated by pity."
"It is not always a very safe guide, madame. Mademoiselle Anne is young, she is fragile, she looks timid and frightened--oh, yes, she seems a very worthy subject for compassion. But I, I do not agree. Shall I tell you, madame, why Miss Anne Meredith killed Mr. Shaitana? It was because he knew that she had previously killed an elderly lady to whom she was companion because that lady had found her out in a petty theft."
Mrs. Lorrimer looked a little startled.
"Is that true, M. Poirot?"
"I have no doubt of it, whatsoever. She is so so-so gentlc one would say. Pah! She is dangerous, madame, that little Mademoiselle Anne! Where her own safety, her own comfort, is concerned, she will strike wildly--treacherously. With Mademoiselle Anne those two crimes will not be the end. She will gain confidence from them .... "
Mrs. Lorrimer said sharply:
"What you say is horrible, M. Poirot. Horrible!"
Poirot rose.
"Madame, I will now take my leave. Reflect on what I have said."
Mrs. Lorrimer was looking a little uncertain of herself. She said with an attempt at her old manner:
"If it suits me, M. Poirot, I shall deny this whole conversation. You have no witnesses, remember. What I have just told you that I saw on that fatal evening is--well, private between ourselves."
Poirot said gravely.
"Nothing shall be done without your consent, madame. And be at peace; I have my own methods. Now that I know what I am driving at "
He took her hand and raised it to his lips.
"Permit me to tell you, madame, that you are a most remarkable woman. All my homage and respects. Yes, indeed, a woman in a thousand. Why, you have not even done what nine hundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand could not have resisted doing."
"What is that?"
"Told me just why you killed your husband and how entirely justified such a proceeding really was."
Mrs. Lorrimer drew herself up.
"Really, M. Poirot," she said stiffly. "My reasons were entirely my own business."
"Magnifique!" said Poirot, and, once more raising her hand to his lips, he left the room.
It was cold outside the house, and he looked up and down for a taxi, but there was none in sight.
He began to walk in the direction of King's Road.
As he walked he was thinking hard. Occasionally he nodded his head; once he shook it.
He looked back over his shoulder. Some one was going up the steps of Mrs. Lorrimer's house. In figure it looked very like Anne Meredith. He hesitated for a minute, wondering whether to turn back or not, but in the end he went on.
On arrival at home, he found that Battle had gone without leaving any message.
He proceeded to ring the superintendent up.
"Hallo." Battle's voice can through. "Got anything?"
"Je crois bien. Mon ami, we must get after the Meredith girl---and quickly." "I'm getting after her but why quickly?" "Because, my friend, she may be dangerous." Battle was silent for a minute or two. Then he said:
"I know what you mean. But there's no one .... Oh, well, we mustn't take chances. As a matter of fact, I've written her. Official note, saying I'm calling to see her to-morrow. I thought it might be a good thing to get her rattled." "It is a possibility, at least. I may accompany you?" ' "Naturally. Honoured to have your company, M. Poirot." Poirot hung up the receiver with a thoughtful face.
His mind was not quite at rest. He sat for a long time in front of his fire,
frowning to himself. At last, putting his fears and doubts aside, he went to bed. "We will see in the morning," he murmured.
But of what the morning would bring he had no idea.
第二十七章 目击者
第二十七章 目击者

白罗突然大笑，实在忍不住。他的脑袋向后仰，高亢的法国笑声传遍满屋子。他揉揉眼睛说："对不起，夫人，我实在忍不住。我们在这边争辩和推理！我们问案！我们探究心理学－－没想到这个案件始终有位目击者。请你说给我听吧。" "当时已经很晚了，安妮•梅瑞迪斯当'梦家'。她起身看合伙人的牌，然后在屋里逛来逛去。那次的牌不太有趣－－结论很明显。我用不着专心打牌。打到最后三圈，我抬眼看看壁炉。安妮•梅瑞迪斯正弯身对着夏塔纳先生。我望过去的时候，她站直起来－－手放在他的胸口－－这个姿态叫我吃惊。她站直的时候，我看见她的表情，她迅速在我们这边瞥了一眼，脸上含着不安和恐惧。当然啦，当时我不知道出了什么事。我只是想不通小姑娘究竟在干什么。后来－－我明白了。" 白罗点点头。"可是她不晓得你知情。她不知道你看到她了？" 洛瑞玛太太说："可怜的孩子。年轻、惊惧－－在世上还有好长的日子要过。我保密不说，你觉得奇怪吗？" "不，不，我不觉得奇怪。" "何况我自知－－我自己－－"她耸耸肩。"我当然没有资格指控她。一切要由警方去办。"  "不错，可是今天你更进一步（替她顶罪）。" 洛瑞玛太太阴森森说："我向来不是软心肠、富于同情心的女子。但是，人年纪老了大概会慢慢有这些特质吧。告诉你，我不常被同情心驱使。" "夫人，同情心不见得是安全的向导。安妮小姐年轻、脆弱，看来胆怯、惊慌－－噢，是的，她似乎很值得同情。但是我没有同感。夫人，要不要我告诉你安妮•梅瑞迪斯小姐为什么杀夏塔纳先生？是因为他值得她以前当过侍伴，女主人发现她偷窃，她就害死了她。" 洛瑞玛太太显得有点震惊。 "真的吗，白罗先生？" "我可以确定。人人都说她柔顺－－温婉。呸！夫人，小安妮•梅瑞迪斯是危险人物！为了自己的安全和舒适，她会奸诈地、狂野地攻击别人。安妮小姐不会只犯两个案子就罢休的。她会愈来愈自信。" 洛瑞玛太太厉声说："白罗先生，你说的话真恐怖。恐怖极了！" 白罗站起来。"夫人，我现在告辞了。想一想我说的话。" 洛瑞玛太太似乎拿不定主意。她尽量装出原有的本色说："白罗先生，我如果有心，可以全盘否定今天的谈话。记住，你找不到证人。我刚才说那天晚上看见的情形－－噢，只有我们俩知道。" 白罗正色说："夫人，未经你同意，我不会采取行动的。放心，我自有办法。现在我知道该如何打算了－－" 他拉起她的手，举在唇边。 "夫人，请容我告诉你，你是了不起的女人。谨致最高的敬意和崇拜。是的，千里挑一的女人。咦，你甚至没做一千个女人中有九百九十九位忍不住会做的事情。""什么事？" "你没说你为什么害死你丈夫－－没说那件事其实完全正当！" 洛瑞玛太太打起精神。 她僵僵地说："白罗先生，我行事的理由不关别人的事。" 白罗说："了不起！"说着再度将她的手举到唇边，然后踏出门外。 屋外很冷，他朝上下两方找计程车，可是一辆车都看不见。他慢慢朝国王路方向走，一面走一面动脑筋，不时点头，也摇过一次头。 他回头望。有人正走上洛瑞玛太太家的台阶，身材很象安妮•梅瑞迪斯。他迟疑片刻，不知道该不该掉回头，但他最后还是往前走。 他回到家，发现巴特探长已离去，未留任何口信。他打电话给探长。巴特的声音由那头传来："喂，有没有收获？" "朋友，我相信有。我们得追踪梅瑞迪斯姑娘－－而且要快。" "我正在追踪她－－为什么要快呢？" "朋友，她可能是危险人物。" 巴特沉默一两分钟，然后说："我知道你的意思。不过没有人可派哩－－噢，好吧，我们不能冒险。事实上，我已经写信给她了，写一封公文说明天要去看她。我想让她惊慌惊慌也好。"  "至少有此可能。我能不能陪你去？" "当然。白罗先生，跟你同行很荣幸。" 白罗挂上听筒，脸上一副沉思的表情。 他心绪不宁，在火炉前面坐了好久，自顾皱眉头。最后他将满怀的疑虑推开，上床睡觉。  "我们明天再看吧，"他喃喃自语。 可是次晨发生的事他完全料想不到。
CHAPTER 28 Suicide
CHAPTER 28 Suicide

The summons came by telephone at the moment when Poirot was sitting down to his morning coffee and rolls.
He lifted the telephone receiver, and Battle's voice spoke:
"That M. Poirot?"
"Yes, it is I. Qu'est ce qu'il y a?"
The mere inflection of the superintendent's voice had told him that something had happened. His own vague misgivings came back to him. "But quickly, my friend, tell me." "It's Mrs. Lorrimer."
"Lorrimer--yes?"
"What the devil did you say to her-or did she say to you--yesterday? You never told me anything; in fact, you let me think that the Meredith girl was the one we were after."
Poirot said quietly:
"What has happened?"
"Suicide."
"Mrs. Lorrimer has committed suicide?"
"That's right. It seems she has been very depressed and unlike herself lately.
Her doctor had ordered her some sleeping stuff. Last night she took an overdose.' Poirot drew a deep breath.
"There is no question of accident?"
"Not the least. It's all cut and dried. She wrote to the three of them.'
"Which three?"
"The other three. Roberts, Despard and Miss Meredith. All fair and square--no beating about the bush. Just wrote that she would like them to know that she was taking a short-cut out of all the mess--that it was she who had killed Shaitana and that she apologised---apologised!--to all three of them for the inconvenience and annoyance they had suffered. Perfectly calm, business-like letter, Absolutely typical of the woman. She was a cool customer all right."
For a minute or two Poirot did not answer.
So this was Mrs. Lorrimer's final word. She had determined, after all, to shield Anne Meredith. A quick painless death instead of a protracted painful one, and her last action an altruistic one the saving of the girl with whom she felt a secret bond of sympathy. The whole thing planned and carried out with quite ruthless eiciency--a suicide carefully announced to the three interested parties. What a woman! His admiration quickened. It was like her like her clear-cut determination, her insistence on what she had decided being carried out.
He had thought to have convinced her but evidently she had preferred her own judgment. A woman of very strong will.
Battle's voice cut into his meditations.
"What the devil did you say to her yesterday? You must have put the wind up her, and this is the result. But you implied that the result of your interview was definite suspicion of the Meredith girl."
Poirot was silent a minute or two. He felt that, dead, Mrs. Lorrimer constrained him to her will, as she could not have done if she were living. He said at last slowly: "I was in error .... "
There were unaccustomed words on his tongue, and he did not like them. "You made a mistake, eh?" said Battle. "All the same, she must have thought you were on to her. It's a bad business letting her slip through our fingers like this.'
"You could not have proved anything against her," said Poirot.
"No--I suppose that's true Perhaps it's all for the best. You---er idn't mean this to happen, M. Poirot?" Poirot's disclaimer was indignant. Then he said: "Tell me exactly what has occurred.' "Roberts opened his letters just before eight o'clock. He lost no time, dashed off at once in his car, leaving his parlourmaid to communicate with us, which she did. He got to the house to find that Mrs. Lorrimer hadn't been called yet, rushed up to her bedroom but it was too late. He tried artificial respiration, but there was nothing doing. Our divisional surgeon arrived soon after and confirmed his treatment."
"What was the sleeping stuff?." "Veronal, I think. One of the Barbituric group, at any rate. There was a bottle of tablets by her bed."
"What about the other two? Did they not try to communicate with you?" "Despard is out of town. He hasn't had this morning's post." "And-Miss Meredith?" "I've just rung her up." "Eh bien?"
"She had just opened the letter a few moments before my call came through. Post is later there."
"What was her reaction?"
"A perfectly proper attitude. Intense relief decently veiled. Shocked and grieved--that sort of thing."
Poirot paused a moment, then he said: "Where are you now, my friend?" "At Cheyne Lane."
"Bien. I will come round immediately."
In the hall at Cheyne Lane he found Dr. Roberts on the point of departure. The doctor's usual florid manner was rather in abeyance this morning. He looked pale and shaken.
"Nasty business this, M. Poirot. I can't say I'm not relieved from my own point of view--but, to tell you the truth, it's a bit of a shock. I never really thought for a minute that it was Mrs. Lorrimer who stabbed Shaitana. It's been the greatest surprise to me." .
"I, too, am surprised."
"Quiet, well-bred, self-contained woman. Can't imagine her doing a violent thing like that. What was the motive, I wonder? Oh, well, we shall never know now. I confess I'm curious, though.'
"It must take a load off your mind--this occurrence."
"Oh, it does, undoubtedly. It would be hypocrisy not to admit it. It's not very pleasant to have a suspicion of murder hanging over you. As for the poor woman herself well, it was undoubtedly the best way out.' "So she thought herself.' Roberts nodded.
"Conscience, I suppose," he said as he let himself out of the house.
Poirot shook his head thoughtfully. The doctor had misread the situation. It was not remorse that had made Mrs. Lorrimer take her life.
On his way upstairs he paused to say a few words of comfort to the elderly parlourmaid, who was weeping quietly.
"It's so dreadful, sir. So very dreadful. We were all so fond of her. And you having tea with her yesterday so nice and quiet. And now to-day she's gone. I shall never forget this morning--never as long as I live. The gentleman pealing at the bell. Rang three times, he did, before I could get to it. And, 'Where's your mistress?' he shot out at me. I was so flustered, I couldn't hardly answer. You see, we never went in to the mistress till she rang--that was her orders. And I just couldn't get out anything. And the doctor, he says, 'Where's her room?' and ran up the stairs, and me behind him, and I showed him the door, and he rushes in, not so much as knocking, and takes one look at her lying there, and, 'Too late,' he says. She was dead, sir. But he sent me for brandy and hot water, and he tried desperate to bring her back, but it couldn't be done. And then the police coming and all--it isn't--it isn't--decent, sir. Mrs. Lorrimer wouldn't have liked it. And why the police? It's none of their business, surely, even if an accident has occurred and the poor mistress did take an overdose by mistake." Poirot did not reply to her question. He said: "Last night, was your mistress quite as usual? Did she seem upset or worried at all?" "No, I don't think so, sir. She was tired--and I think she was in pain. She hasn't been well lately, sir." "No, I know." The sympathy in his tone made the woman go on. "She was never one for complaining, sir, but both cook and I had been worried about her for some time. She couldn't do as much as she used to do, and things tired her. I think, perhaps, the young lady coming after you left was a bit too much for her." With his foot on the stairs, Poirot turned back. "The young lady? Did a young lady come here yesterday evening?" "Yes, sir. Just after you left, it was. Miss Meredith, her name was." "Did she stay long?" "About an hour, sir." Poirot was silent for a minute or two, then he said: "And afterwards?" "The mistress went to bed. She had dinner in bed. She said she was tired." Again Poirot was silent; then he said: "Do you know if your mistress wrote any letters yesterday evening?" "Do you mean after she went to bed? I don't think so, sir." "But you are not sure?" "There were some letters on the hall table ready to be posted, sir. We always took them last thing before shutting up. But I think they had been lying there since earlier in the day." "How many were there?" "Two or three---I'm not quite sure, sir. Three, I think." "You--or cook whoever posted them--did not happen to notice to whom they were addressed? Do not be offended at my question. It is of the utmost importance." "I went to the post myself with them, sir. I noticed the top one---it was to Fortnum and Mason's. I couldn't say as to the others." The woman's tone was earnest and sincere. "Are you sure there were not more than three letters?" "Yes, sir, I'm quite certain of that." Poirot nodded his head gravely. Once more he started up the staircase. Then he sai&. "You knew, I take it, that your mistress took medicine to make her sleep?" "Oh, yes, sir, it was the doctor's orders. Dr. Lang." "Where was this sleeping medicine kept?" "In the little cupboard in the mistress's room." Poirot did not ask any further questions. He went upstairs. His face was very grave. On the upper landing Battle greeted him. The superintendent looked worried and harassed.
"I'm glad you've come, M. Poirot. Let me introduce you to Dr. Davidson."
The divisional surgeon shook hands. He was a tall, melancholy man.
"The luck was against us,' he said. "An hour or two earlier, and we might have saved her."
"H'm," said Battle. "I mustn't say so officially, but I'm not sorry. She was a--well, she was a lady. I don't know what her reasons were for killing Shaitana, but she may just conceivably have been justified."
"In any case," said Poirot, "it is doubtful if she would have lived to stand her trial. She was a very ill woman."
The surgeon nodded in agreement.
"I should say you were quite right. Well, perhaps it is all for the best."
He started down the stairs.
Battle moved after him.
"One minute, doctor."
Poirot, his hand on the bedroom door, murmured, "I may enter--yes?"
Battle nodded over his shoulder. "Quite all right. We're through." Poirot passed into the room, closing the door behind him ....
He went over to the bed and stood looking down at the quiet, dead face.
He was very disturbed.
Had the dead woman gone to the grave in a last determined effort to save a young girl from death and disgrace---or was there a different, a more sinister explanation?
There were certain facts ....
Suddenly he bent down, examining a dark, diseoloured bruise on the dead woman's arm.
He straightened himself up again. There was a strange, cat-like gleam in his eyes that certain close associates of his would have recognised.
He left the room quickly and went downstairs. Battle and a subordinate were at the telephone. The latter laid down the receiver and said: "He hasn't come back, sir." Battle said:
"Despard. I've been trying to get him. There's a letter for him with the Chelsea postmark all right."
Poirot asked an irrelevant question.
"Had Dr. Roberts had his breakfast when he came here?"
Battle stared. '
"No," he said, "I remember he mentioned that he'd come out without it." "Then he will be at his house now. We can get him." "But why--?"
But Poirot was already busy at the dial. Then he spoke:
"Dr. Roberts? It is Dr. Roberts speaking? Mais oui, it is Poirot here. Just one question. Are you well acquainted with the handwriting of Mrs. Lorrimer?"
"Mrs. Lorrimer's handwriting? I--no, I don't know that I'd ever seen it before."
'Je vous remercie."
Poirot laid down the receiver quickly.
Battle was staring at him.
"What's the big idea, M. Poirot?" he asked quietly.
Poirot took him by the arm.
"Listen, my friend. A few minutes after I left this house yesterday Anne Meredith arrived. I actually saw her going up the steps, though I was not quite sure of her identity at the time. Immediately after Anne Meredith left Mrs. Lorrimer went to bed. As far as the maid knows, she did not write any letters then. And, for reasons which you will understand when I recount to.you our interview, I do not believe that she wrote those three letters before my visit. When did she write them, then?" "After the servants had gone to bed?" suggested Battle. "She got up and posted them herself." "That is possible, yes, but there is another possibility--that she did not write them at all." Battle whistled. "My God, you mean.--" The telephone trilled. The sergeant picked up the receiver. He listened a minute, then turned to Battle. "Sergeant O'Connor speaking from Despard's flat, sir. There's reason to believe that Despard's down at WallingfordonThames." Poirot caught Battle by the arm. "Quickly, my friend. We, too, must go to Wallingford. I tell you, I am not easy in my mind. This may not be the end. I tell you again, my friend, this young lady, she is dangerous."
第二十八章 自杀
第二十八章 自杀

早晨白罗坐着喝咖啡，吃面包卷，电话来叫人了。他拿起听筒，说话的是巴特："白罗先生？" "是的，我就是。有什么事嘛？" 光听探长的语气就知道出事了。他那模糊的疑虑又回到心头。 "快一点，朋友，告诉我嘛。" "是洛瑞玛太太。" "洛瑞玛－－怎么？" "昨天你究竟跟她说了些什么－－还是她跟你说了些什么？你根本没告诉我；你害我以为该跟踪的是梅瑞迪斯姑娘。" 白罗平平静静说："出了什么事？" "自杀。" "洛瑞玛太太自杀？" "对。她最近似乎很沮丧，完全变了一个人。医生开些安眠药给她，昨天晚上她服用过量。"  白罗深深吸了一口气。 "不可能是－－意外吗？" "不可能。已确定了。她曾写信给他们三个人。" "哪三个人？" "另外三位呀－－罗勃兹、德斯帕和梅瑞迪斯小姐。坦坦白白，不拐弯抹角，只说她要大家知道她是干脆解除麻烦－－她杀了夏塔纳，给另外三个人带来不便与烦恼，特意道歉－－道歉哩！平平静静的业务式信函。符合那个女人的作风。她是冷静的人。" 白罗一两分钟没答腔。 这是洛瑞玛太太的最后遗言喽，她决心掩护安妮•梅瑞迪斯。宁可无痛速死，不愿拖很久才痛苦死去，而她最后的行为也是利他的－－以此来拯救一个她暗暗同情的少女。一切都安排并执行得颇有效率－－仔细向三个关系人宣布要自杀。好一个女人！他不禁佩服她。她就是这样，能下清明的决心，能坚持自己的决定。 他曾打算说服她－－但她显然偏爱自己的判断。意志坚强的女人。巴特的声音打断了他的思绪。 "你昨天究竟跟她说了些什么？你一定吓着她了，才会有这种结果。但是你暗示说，你造访后肯定怀疑梅瑞迪斯姑娘。" 白罗沉默一两分钟。他决定洛瑞玛太太生前不能逼他顺从她的意思，死后反能办到。 他终于慢慢说："我的看法错误。" 他不习惯说这种话，真讨厌说。 巴特说："你弄错了，呃？可是她一定以为你是针对她。让她这样逃出我们的指缝，真不高明。" 白罗说："你没办法证明是她的罪状。" "嗯，我想这是真话。也许这样最好。你－－呃－－你没预料会出这种事，白罗先生？"  白罗忿忿不平否认了。接着他说："把经过一五一十说给我听吧。" "罗勃兹医生在八点以前拆信。他不浪费时间，离开开车赶去，叫使女跟我们联络，她照办了。他到达洛瑞玛太太家，发现佣人还没叫她起床－－就冲进她的卧室，已经来不及了。他试作人工呼吸，没有用。隔了不久，我们的分局法医也赶到现场，批准了他的医疗手续。" "安眠药是哪一种？" "我想是维隆纳。反正是巴比妥系列的药品之一。她床头有一罐片剂。" "另外两个人呢？他们有没有跟你联络？" "德斯帕出城去了，还没收到今天早晨的邮件。" "梅瑞迪斯小姐呢？" "我刚刚打电话给她。" "噢？" "她在我打电话的前几分钟拆了信。那边的邮件较迟。" "她的反应如何？" "态度很正常。掩饰宽心的感觉，表现震惊和悲伤之类的。" 白罗停了一会才说："朋友，你在什么地方？" "奇尼巷。" "好，我立刻赶来。" 到了奇尼巷住宅的大厅，他发现罗勃兹医生正要离去。今天早晨，医生的花哨气暂时消失了。他脸色苍白，微微颤抖。 "白罗先生，这事真蹩扭。从我的立场来说，我不能不承认自己松了一口气－－不过说实话，真的有点惊人。我从来没想到洛瑞玛太太会刺死夏塔纳。我大吃一惊。" "我也大吃一惊。" "文静、有修养、自制力强的女人。无法想象她会做这么暴戾的事。不知道动机是什么？噢，算了，现在我们永远不可能知道了。我承认有点好奇。" "这件事－－一定去除了你心头的一大重担吧。" "噢，确实如此，不承认未免太虚伪了。惹上杀人的嫌疑并不愉快。对这个可怜的妇人来说－－咦，这无疑是最好的解脱法。" "她自己也这么想。" 罗勃兹医生点点头。"我猜是良心不安，"他边说边走出屋外。 白罗若有所思摇摇头。医生弄错了。洛瑞玛太太不是因悔恨而自杀的。 上楼途中，他停下来安慰哭哭啼啼的老使女。 "真可怕，先生，太可怕了。我们都很喜欢她。你昨天还跟她一起安安静静、快快活活喝茶；今天她就走了。我永远忘不了今天早晨－－有生之年绝对忘不了。医生先生按门铃。按了三次我才去开门。他大吼道：'你家女主人呢？'我吓慌了，一句话都答不出来。你知道，女主人按铃之前我们从来不进去打扰她－－这是她规定的。我一句话都说不出来。医生说：'她的房间在哪里？'就跑上楼梯，我跟在后面，指一指那扇门，他连门都不敲就冲进去，看她躺在床上，他说：'太迟了。'先生，她死了。他叫我去拿白兰地和热水，自己拚命施救，却救不醒她。接着警察来了－－真不－－真不－－体面，先生。洛瑞玛太太不会喜欢的。何必叫警察呢？就算出了意外，可怜的女主人误吃了过量的药，也不关他们的事啊。" 白罗不回答她的问题，倒说："昨天晚上你家女主人是不是一切如常？有没有显出心乱或担心的样子？" "不，我想没有，先生。她很累－－我想她某个地方发疼。先生，她最近身体不太好。" "嗯，我知道。" 他语含同情，使女继续往下说。 "先生，她一向不爱诉苦，不过厨子和我最近都为她担心。她的活动不如以前频繁，而且很容易累。你告辞之后又来了那位小姐，我想她大概吃不消。" 白罗一脚跨上楼梯，又掉回头。 "小姐？昨天傍晚有一位小姐来这儿？" "是的，先生，你一走她就来了，名叫梅瑞迪斯小姐。" "她逗留的时间长不长？" "大约一小时，先生。" 白罗沉默了一两分钟，然后说："后来呢？" "女主人上床了。她在床上吃晚餐，说她很累。" 白罗又沉默半晌才说："你知不知道昨天晚上你家女主人有没有写信？" "你是说她上床以后？我想没有，先生。" "可是你不敢确定？" "先生，当时大厅的桌上已经有信等着寄出。我们总是在临睡前拿了信才关门的。但是那几封信白天已经摆在那儿了。" "有多少封？" "两三封吧－－我不敢确定，先生。我想是三封。" "你－－或厨子－－寄那些信的人有没有留意是写给谁的？别为我的问题生气。这件事很重要哩。" "先生，信是我亲自寄的。我看了上面的一封；寄给'福特南和梅森商行'。另外两封我不知道。" 使女的语气认真又诚恳。 "你确定不超过三封？" "是的，先生，我可以确定这一点。" 白罗正色点点头。他再度登上楼梯。然后说："你知道女主人吃安眠药吧？" "噢，是的，先生，药是医生开的，郎格医生。" "安眠药放在什么地方？" "在女主人卧室的小橱子里。" 白罗不再发问。他上楼，面色凝重。 到了上面的楼台，巴特跟他打招呼。探长显得忧心和苦恼。 "白罗先生，庆幸你赶来。我跟你介绍达维森医师。" 分局法医跟他握手。此人高高大大，表情忧郁。 他说："我们运气不好。早来一两个钟头，也许能救她一命。" 巴特说："哼，我不该公然这么说，但是我并不难过。她是－－噢，她是淑女。不知道她为什么杀夏塔纳先生，可是她的理由可能很正当。"  白罗说："无论如何，她能不能活到受审都成问题。她病得很重。" 法医点头同意。 "我想你说得对。算啦，也许这样最好。" 他走下楼梯。巴特跟在后面。 "等一等，医生。" 白罗一手按着卧室门，低声说："我能进去吧？" 巴特回头颔首。"没问题，我们验完了。"白罗走进房间，关上门。 他走到床边，俯视死者那张安祥的脸，内心深感不安。死者进坟墓，是决心救一位姑娘脱离死亡和羞辱－－抑或事情另有较邪门的解释？ 一定有实证可查。 他突然低头检查死者手臂上一个深色的淤斑，然后直起身子。他眼中出现猫儿般的光芒。若有熟朋友，一定会看出来的。他迅速走出房间，下了楼。巴特和一位部下站在电话旁边。部下放下听筒说："他还没有回来，大人。" 巴特说："是德斯帕。我一直想找他。这儿有一封盖了契而西邮戳的信要给他。" 白罗提出一个不相干的问题。"罗勃兹医生来这儿之前吃过早餐没有？" 巴特瞠目以对。他说："没有，我记得他说没吃早餐就来了。" "那他现在一定在家。我们打给他。" "为什么？" 白罗已经忙着拨号，接着说："罗勃兹医生？接电话的是罗勃兹医生吧？是的，我是白罗。只问一个问题。你认不认识洛瑞玛太太的笔迹？" "洛瑞玛太太的笔迹？我－－不，我以前没见过她的字。" "谢谢你。" 白罗迅速放下听筒。 巴特瞪着他。 "白罗先生，你有什么了不起的计划？" 白罗抓住他的手膀子。 "听着，朋友，昨天我离开这间屋子几分钟后，安妮•梅瑞迪斯来了。我看到她上台阶，只是当时我不敢确定是她。安妮•梅瑞迪斯一走，洛瑞玛太太就上床睡觉。就女佣所知，当时她没有写信。而基于某种理由－－等我说明来访的经过，你就会明白的－－我不相信我来之前她已写好那三封信。那她是什么时候写的？" "佣人睡了以后？"巴特提示说。 "可能是，但还有一种可能－－信根本不是她写的。" 巴特吹了一声口哨。"我的天，你的意思是－－" 电话铃响了。巡官拿起听筒，听了一分钟，然后转向巴特。 "大人，奥康诺巡官由德斯帕的住所打电话来。德斯帕可能是到泰晤士河上的瓦林福去了。" 白罗抓住巴特的手臂。"快，朋友，我们也得赶到瓦林福去。告诉你，我心绪不宁。事情也许还没了结呢。朋友，我再说一遍，那位小姐是危险人物。"
CHAPTER 29 Accident
CHAPTER 29 Accident

"Arm, imm?,, l," said Rhoda. "No, really, Anne, don't answer with half your mind on a crossword puzzlel I want you to attend to me." "I am attending." Anne sat bolt upright and put down the paper. "That's better. Look here, Anne." Bhoda hesitated. "About this man coming." "Superintendent Battle?" "Yes. Anne, I wish you'd tell him--about being at the Bensons'." Anne's voice grew rather cold. "Nonsense. Why should I?" "Becausewell, it might look--as though you'd been keeping something back. I'm sure it would be better to mention it." "I can't very well now," said Anne coldly. "I wish you had in the first place." "Well, it's too late to bother about that now." "Yes." Rhoda did not sound convinced. Anne said rather irritably: "In any case, I can't see why. It's got nothing to do with all this." "No, of course not." "I was only there about two months. He only wants these things as--well--references. Two months doesn't count." "No, I know. I expect I'm being foolish, but it does worry me rather. I feel you ought to mention it. You see, if it came out some other way, it might look rather bad--your keeping dark about it, I mean." "I don't see how it can come out. Nobody knows but you." "N-no?" Anne pounced on the slight hesitation in Rhoda's voice. "Why, who does know?" "Well, every one at Combeacre," said Rhoda after a moment's pause. "Oh, that!" Anne dismissed it with a shrug. "The superintendent isn't likely to come up against any one from there. It would be an extraordinary coincidence ffhe did." "Coincidences happen." "Rhoda, you're being extraordinary about this. Fuss, fuss, fuss." "I'm terribly sorry, darling. Only you know what the police might be like if they thought you werewell hiding things." "They won't know. Who's to tell them? Nobody knows but you." It was the second time she had said those words. At this second repetition her voice changed a little--something queer and speculative came into it. "Oh, dear, I wish you would," sighed Rhoda unhappily. She looked guiltily at Anne, but Anne was not looking at her. She was sitting with a frown on her face, as though working out some calculation. "Rather fun, Major Despard turning up," said Rhoda. "What? Oh, yes." "Anne, he/s attractive. If you don't want him, do, do, do hand him over to me!" "Don't be absurd, Rhoda. He doesn't care tuppence for me." "Then why does he keep on turning up? Of course he's keen on you. You're just the sort of distressed damsel that he'd enjoy rescuing. You look so beautifully helpless, Anne." "He's equally pleasant to both of us." "That's only his niceness. But if you don't want him, I could do the sympathetic friend act--console his broken heart; etc., etc., and in the end I might get him. Who knows?" Rhoda concluded inelegantly. "I'm sure you're quite welcome to him, my dear," said Anne, laughing. "He's got such a lovely back to his neck," sighed Rhoda. "Very brick red and muscular." "Darling, must you be so mawkish?" "Do you like him, Anne?" "Yes, very much." "Aren't we prim and sedate? I think he likes me a little---not as much as you, but a little." "Oh, but he does like you," said Anne. Again there was an unusual note in her voice, but Rhoda did not hear it. "What time is our sleuth coming?" she asked. "Twelve," said Anne. She was silent for a minute or two, then she said, "It's only half-past ten now. Let's go out on the river.' "But isn't--didn't Despard say he'd come round about eleven?" "Why should we wait in for him? We can leave a message with Mrs. Astwell which way we've gone, and he can follow us along the towpath." "In fact, don't make yourself cheap, dear, as mother always said!" laughed Rhoda. "Come on, then." She went out of the room and through the garden door. Anne followed her.
Major Despard called at Wendon Cottage about ten minutes later. He was before his time, he knew, so he was a little surprised to find both girls had already gone out.
He went through the garden and across the fields and turned to the right along the towpath.
Mrs. Astwell remained a minute or two looking after him, instead of getting on with her morning chores.
"Sweet on one or other of 'em, he is," she observed to herself. "I think it's Miss Anne, but I'm not certain. He don't give away much by his face. Treats 'em both alike. I'm not sure they ain't both sweet on him, too. If so, they won't be such dear friends so much longer..Nothing like a gentleman for coming between two young ladies."
Pleasurably excited by the prospect of assisting at a budding romance, Mrs. Astwell turned indoors to her task of washing up the breakfast things, when once again the door-bell rang.
"Drat that doo," said Mrs. Astwell. "Do it on purpose, they do. Parcel, I suppose. Or might be a telegram."
She moved slowly to the front door.
Two gentlemen stood there, a small foreign gentleman and an exceedingly English, big, burly gentleman. The latter she had seen before, she remembered. "Miss Meredith at home?" asked the big man. Mrs. Astwell shook her head. "Just gone out."
"Really? Which way? We didn't meet her."
Mrs. Astwell, secretly studying the amazing moustache of the other gentleman and deciding that they looked an unlikely pair to be friends, volunteered further information.
"Gone out on the river," she explained. The other gentleman broke in: "And the other lady? Miss Dawes?" "They've both gone."
"Ah, thank you," said Battle. "Let me see, which way does one get to the river?"
"First turning to the left, down the lane," Mrs. Astwell replied promptly. "When you get to the towpath, go right. I heard them say that's the way they were going," she added helpfully. "Not above a quarter of an hour ago. You'll soon catch em up.
"And I wonder," she added to herself as she unwillingly closed the front door, having stared inquisitively at their retreating backs, "who you two may be. Can't place you, somehow."
Mrs. Astwell returned to the kitchen sink, and Battle and Poirot duly took the first turning to the left--a straggling lane which soon ended abruptly at the towpath.
Poirot was hurrying along, and Battle eyed him curiously. "Anything the matter, M. Poirot? You seem in a mighty hurry." "It is true. I am uneasy, my friend." "Anything particular?" Poirot shook his head.
"No. But there are possibilities. You never know .... "
"You've something in your head," said Battle. "You were urgent that we should come down here this morning without losing a moment--and, my word, you made Constable Turner step on the gas! What are you afraid of?. The girl's shot her bolt."
Poirot was silent.
"What are you afraid of?" Battle repeated.
"What is one always afraid of in these cases?"
Battle nodded.
"You're quite right. I wonder "
"You wonder what, my friend?"
Battle said slowly:
"I'm wondering if Miss Meredith knows that her friend told Mrs. Oliver a certain fact."
Poirot nodded his head in vigorous appreciation.
"Hurry, my friend," he said.
They hastened along the river bank. There was no craft visible on the water's surface, but presently they rounded a bend, and Poirot suddenly stopped dead. Battle's quick eyes saw also.
"Major Despard," he said.
Despard was about two hundred yards ahead of them, striding along the river bank.
A little farther on the two girls were in view in a punt on the water, Rhoda punting--Anne lying and laughing up at her. Neither of them were looking towards the bank.
And then--it happened. Anne's hand outstretched, Rhoda's stagger, her plunge overboard her desperate grasp at Anne's sleeve--the rocking boat--then an overturned punt and two girls struggling in the water.
"See it?" cried Battle as he started to run. "Little Meredith caught her round the ankle and tipped her in. My God, that's her fourth murder!"
They were both running hard. But some one was ahead of them. It was clear that neither girl could swim, but Despard had run quickly along the path to the nearest point, and now he plunged in and swam towards them.
"Mon Dieu, this is interesting," cried Poirot. He caught at Battle's arm. "Which of them will he go for first?"
The two girls were not together. About twelve yards separated them.
Despard swam powerfully towards them--there was no check in his stroke. He was making straight for Rhoda.
Battle, in his turn, reached the nearest bank and went in. Despard had just brought Rhoda successfully to shore. He hauled her up, flung her down and plunged in again, swimming towards the spot where Anne had just gone under. "Be careful," called Battle. "Weeds."
He and Battle got to the spot at the same time, but Anne had gone under before they reached her.
They got her at last and between them towed her to the shore.
Rhoda was being ministered to by Poirot. She was sitting up now, her breath coming unevenly.
Despard and Battle laid Anne Meredith down.
"Artificial respiration," said Battle. "Only thing to do. But I'm afraid she's gone."
He set to work methodically. Poirot stood by, ready to relieve him. Despard dropped down by Rhoda. "Are you all right?" he asked hoarsely.
She said slowly:
"You saved me. You saved me "She held out her hands to him, and as he took them she burst suddenly into tears. He said, "Rhoda .... " Their hands clung together .... He had a sudden vision---of African scrub, and Rhoda, laughing and adventurous, by his side ....
第二十九章 意外
第二十九章 意外

露达说："安妮。" "嗯？" "不，安妮，别一面玩字谜，一面漫不经心答复我。我要你专心听。" "我很专心呀。" 安妮直起身子，放下纸张。 露达犹疑不决说："这才象话。听着，安妮，我要谈即将来访的人。" "巴特探长？" "是的，安妮，我希望你告诉他－－你曾在班森家待过。" 安妮的语气变得冷冰冰。 "胡扯，我为什么要告诉他？" "因为－－不说就好象你存心隐瞒什么似的。我相信说出来比较好。" 安妮冷冷地说"现在说不清楚了。" "真希望你一开始就说出来。" "算啦，现在再操心那些也来不及了。" "是的。"露达好象并不心服。 安妮急躁地说"反正我看不出理由。那件事跟这些事扯不上关系。" "不，当然扯不上。" "我只在那边住过两个月。他要的是可做为－－参考－－的资料。两个月不算数。" "我知道不算数。我猜自己是太傻气了，但我总绝对担心。我认为你该说出来。你要明白，晚宴被人知道，就不妙了－－我是指存心隐瞒不太好。" "我看别人不可能发现。除了你，没有人知道那回事。" "没--－没有人？" 安妮听出露达犹豫的口吻，猛然进攻："噢，谁知道呢？" 露达静默半晌才说："咦，康比爱克城的人都知道。" 安妮耸耸肩。"噢，那个啊！探长不可能碰见那边来的人。万一碰见，那未免太巧了。" "巧事也会发生的。" "露达，你专爱提这些。小题大作，小题大作，小题大作。" "宝贝，我真抱歉。你知道，万一警方认为你－－有所隐瞒，后果就严重了。" "他们不会知道的。谁会告诉他们呢？除了你，没有人知道那回事。" 她已经第二次说这句话了。第二次语气稍有改变－－怪怪的，有沉思推理的意味。 露达凄然叹口气："噢，真希望你当时说出来。"她以歉疚的目光看看安妮，安妮却不看她。安妮皱眉坐着，仿佛正在构思某一计划。 露达说："德斯帕少校出现真有趣。" "什么？噢，是的。" "安妮，他真迷人 。你如果不喜欢他，拜托，拜托，拜托让给我！" "别胡扯，露达。他一点都不关心我。" "那他何必经常露面呢？他一点看中你了。你正是他喜欢救助的那种受难佳人。安妮，你看来柔弱无依，显得好美。" "他对我们俩的态度一样快活。" "那是他天生亲切。不过你若不要他，我可以扮演同情的朋友角色－－安慰他破碎的心，到头来说不定能得到他哩，谁知道呢？"露达粗粗俗俗说。 安妮笑道："我相信你颇受他欢迎。" 露达叹气说："他的颈背好可爱呦，砖红色，肌肉发达。" "宝贝，你非这么恶心不可吗？" "安妮，你喜不喜欢他？" "嗯，很喜欢。" "我们不是认真又恬静吗？我想他有点喜欢我－－不如喜欢你来得深，却有点喜欢。" "噢，他真的喜欢你喔，"安妮说。 她的口气又有点不寻常，但是露达没听出来。 "我们的大警探什么时候要来呀？"她问道。 安妮说："十一点。"她沉默了一两分钟才说："现在才十点半。我们到河边去吧。" "德斯帕不少说他十一点左右要来吗？" "我们何必在屋里等他？我们可以留一个口信给爱斯特威而太太，说我们往那边走，他自会沿拖船小径跟上来。" 露达笑道："对，娘常说：别自轻自贱！那我们走吧。"  她走出房间，穿过花园门。安妮跟在后面。 大约十分钟后，德斯帕少校到文顿别墅造访。他知道自己提早来，发现两位姑娘已经出去，不免有些吃惊。他穿过花园，横过旷野，向右拐上拖船小径。 爱斯特威而太太不重视早晨的杂差，倒站着目送了他一会。 她自言自语说："他看上其中一位姑娘了。我想是安妮小姐，但是不敢确定。他的表情没泄露什么。对两个人一模一样。我不敢说她们俩是否都喜欢他。若是如此她们的友情就不可能再这么亲密了。绅士真是不该夹在两位小姐中间。" 爱斯特威而太太想到自己能协助萌芽的恋史成形，觉得很兴奋，就转身进屋去洗早餐用品，这时候门铃又响了。 爱斯特威而太太说："讨厌的门铃。他们是故意按的。我猜是包裹，否则就是电报。"她慢吞吞走想前门。 两位先生站在门口，一位是小个子的外国绅士，一位是大块头的英国人。她记得以前见过后者。 "梅瑞迪斯小姐在家吧？"大块头问道。 爱斯特威而太太摇摇头。 "刚刚出去。" "真的？往哪边走？我们没碰到她。" 爱斯特威而太太暗暗打量另一位绅士那惊人的胡须，认为这两位朋友真不相称，但她自动提供进一步的消息。 "到河上去了，"她解释说。 另一位绅士突然插嘴。 "另一位小姐呢？达威斯小姐？" "她们俩都去了。" 巴特说："啊，谢谢你。我看看，哪一条路通到河边？" 爱斯特威而太太立即答道："向左转，沿着巷子走过去。到了拖船小径，走右边。"又好意加上一句："我听她们说要走这条路。才走不到一刻钟。你们很快就能追上她们。" 她好奇地瞪着他们的背影，心不甘情不愿地关上门，自言自语说："不知道你们俩是谁，想不起来。"爱斯特威而太太回到厨房的水槽边，巴特和白罗先向左转－－走一条蜿蜒小巷，巷子走完，再改走拖船小径。 白罗匆匆向前赶，巴特好奇地打量他。"白罗先生，怎么回事？你好象很急嘛。" "这倒是真话。朋友，我觉得不安。" "有什么特别的迹象？" 白罗摇摇头。 "没有，但是有一种可能。谁知道呢？" 巴特说："你有心事。今天早上你急着要我们赶来，一分钟都不肯浪费－－说真的，你逼透纳警官加足了马力！你到底怕什么？那位姑娘已经攻击过了。"白罗闷声不响。 "你到底怕什么？"巴特再问一次。 "这种情况下，我们通常怕什么？" 巴特点点头。"你说得对。不知道－－" "不知道什么，朋友？" 巴特慢慢说："不知道梅瑞迪斯小姐晓不晓得她的朋友已告诉奥利佛太太一件事。" 白罗点头表示赞许。 "快，朋友，"他说。 他们沿着河边疾行。水面看不到船只，等他们绕过一处弯角，白罗猛停下来。巴特的利眼也看见了。他说："德斯帕少校。" 德斯帕少校在他们千伏两千码左右，正沿着河边大步往前走。不远处，两位少女坐在水面的一艘平底船上。露达撑篙，安妮躺着对她大笑。两个人都未向岸边看一眼。 接着－－事情发生了！安妮伸出手，露达踉踉跄跄摔下船－－绝望抓住安妮的袖子－－船身摇晃－－接着翻了，两位姑娘都在水中挣扎。 巴特一面跑一面叫道："看到没有？小梅瑞迪斯抓住她的脚踝，把她按进水里。老天，这是她的第四椿谋杀案！" 他们俩拚命跑，可是前面还有一个人。两位姑娘显然都不会游泳，德斯帕沿着小径飞奔到最近的地点，跳入水中，向她们游去。 白罗叫道："老天，真有趣。"他抓住巴特的手膀子。"他会先救哪一个？" 两位姑娘不在同一处地方，彼此相隔十二码左右。 德斯帕用力向她们游去；一路没有阻拦。他直接游到露达身边。 巴特也抵达最近的岸边，下水救人。德斯帕已将露达救到岸边。他拖她上岸，放下来，自己又跳下水，游向安妮沉落的地点。 巴特叫道："当心，有野草。" 他和巴特同时抵达那个地方，可是两个人还没游到安妮已经沉下去了。最后他们总算捞起她，合力拖上岸。 白罗正在照顾露达。她现在坐起身，呼吸颇不匀整。 德斯帕和巴特放下安妮•梅瑞迪斯。 巴特说："人工呼吸。只有这个办法。不过她恐怕已经完了。" 他有条有理救人。白罗站在一旁准备接班。德斯帕倒在露达身边。 "你还好吧？"他嘎声问。 她慢慢说："你救我。你救我－－"说着向他伸出双手，他接过来握住，她突然留下眼泪。  他说："露达－－"两个人的手紧握在一起。 他突然想象出一幅画面－－在非洲丛林，露达笑哈哈陪着他，充满冒险精神。
CHAPTER 30 Murder
CHAPTER 30 Murder

"Do you mean to say," said Rhoda incredulously, "that Anne meant to push me in? I know it felt like it. And she knew I can't swim. But but was it deliberate?" "It was quite deliberate," said Poirot. They were driving through the outskirts of London. "But but why?" Poirot did not reply for a minute or two. He thought he knew one of the motives that had led Anne to act as she had done, and that motive was sitting next to Rhoda at the minute. Superintendent Battle coughed. "You'll have to prepare yourself, Miss Dawes, for a bit of a shock. This Mrs. Benson, your friend lived with, her death wasn't quite the accident that it appeared--at least, so we've reason to suppose." "What do you mean?" "We believe," said Poirot, "that Anne Meredith changed two bottles." "Oh, no--no, how horrible! It's impossible. Anne? Why should she?" "She had her reasons," said Superintendent Battle. "But the point is, Miss Dawes, that, as far as Miss Meredith knew, you were the only person who could give us a clue to that incident. You didn't tell her, I suppose, that you'd mentioned it to Mrs. Oliver?" Rhoda said slowly: "No. I thought she'd be annoyed with me." "She would. Very annoyed," said Battle grimly. "But she thought that the only danger could come from you, and that's why she decided to er--eliminate you."
"Eliminate? Me? Oh, how beastly! It can't be all true." "Well, she's dead now," said Superintendent Battle, "so we might as well leave it at that; but she wasn't a nice friend for you to have, Miss Dawes-and that's a fact." The car drew up in front of a door. "We'll go in to M. Poirot's," said Superintendent Battle, "and have a bit of a talk about it all." In Poirot's sitting-room they were welcomed by Mrs. Oliver, who was entertaining Dr. Roberts. They were drinking sherry. Mrs. Oliver was wearing one of the new horsy hats and a velvet dress with a bow on the chest on which reposed a large piece of apple core.
"Come in. Come in," said Mrs. Oliver hospitably and quite as though it were her house and not Poirot's. "As soon as I got your telephone call I rang up Dr. Roberts, and we came round here. And all his patients are dying, but he doesn't care. They're probably getting better, really. We want to hear all about everything." "Yes, indeed, I'm thoroughly fogged," said Roberts. "Eh bien," said Poirot. "The case is ended. The murderer of Mr. Shaitana is found at last." "So Mrs. Oliver told me. That pretty little thing, Anne Meredith. I can hardly believe it. A most unbelievable murderess." "She was a murderess all right," said Battle. "Three murders to her credit-- and not her fault that she didn't get away with a fourth one." "Incredible!" murmured Roberts. "Not at all," said Mrs. Oliver. "Least likely person. It seems to work out in real life just the same as in books." "It's been an amazing day," said Roberts. "First Mrs. Lorrimer's letter. I suppose that was a forgery, eh?" "Precisely. A forgery written in triplicate." "She wrote one to herself, too?" "Naturally. The forgery was quite skilful--it would not deceive an expert, of course--but, then, it was highly unlikely that an expert would have been called in. All the evidence pointed to Mrs. Lorrimer's having committed suicide." "You will excuse my curiosity, M. Poirot, but what made you suspect that she had not committed suicide?" "A little conversation that I had with a maidservant at Cheyne Lane." "She told you of Anne Meredith's visit the former evening?" "That among other things. And then, you see, I had already come to conclusion in my own mind as to the identity of the guilty person--that is, the person who killed Mr. Shaitana. That person was not Mrs. Lorrimer." "What made you suspect Miss Meredith?" Poirot raised his hand. "A little minute. Let me approach this matter in my own way. Let me, that is to say, eliminate. The murderer of Mr. Shaitana was not Mrs. Lorrimer, nor was it Major Despard, and, curiously enough, it was not Anne Meredith " He leaned forward. His voice purred, soP and catlike. "You see, Dr. Roberts, you were the person who killed Mr. Shaitana; and you also killed Mrs. Lorrimer .... "
There was at least three minutes' silence. Then Roberts laughed a rather menacing laugh. "Are you quite mad, M. Poirot? I certainly did not murder Mr. Shaitana, and I could not possibly have murdered Mrs. Lorrimer. My dear Battle" he turned to the Scotland Yard man "are qou standing for this?" "I think you'd better listen to what M. Poirot has to say,' said Battle QUIETLY. Poirot said: "It is true that though I have known for some time that you--and only you--could have killed Shaitana, it would not be an easy matter to prove it. But MrS. Lorrimer's case is quite different." He leaned forward. "It is not a case of my knowing. It is much simpler than that for we have an eye-witness who saw you do. it."
Roberts grew very quiet. His eyes glittered. He said sharply:
"You are talking rubbish!"
"Oh, no, I am not. It was early in the morning. You bluffed your way into Mrs. Lorrimer's room, where she was still heavily asleep under the influence of the drug she had taken the night before. You bluff again--pretend to see at a glance that she is dead! You pack the parlourmaid off for brandy--hot water--all the rest of it. You are left alone in the room. The maid has only had the barest peep. And then what happens?
"You may not be aware of the fact, Dr. Roberts, but certain firms of window cleaners specialise in early morning work. A window cleaner with his ladder arrived at the same time as you did. He placed his ladder against the side of the house and began his work. The first window he tackled was that of Mrs. Lorrirner's room. When, however, he saw what was going on, he quickly retired to another window, but he had seen sornethingfirst. He shall tell us his own story."
Poirot stepped lightly across the floor, turned a door handle, called:
"Come in, Stephens," and returned.
A big awkward-looking man with red hair entered. In his hand he held a uniformed hat bearing the legend "Chelsea Window Cleaners' Association" Which he twirled awkwardly.
Poirot said:
"Is there anybody you reeognise in this room?"
The man looked round, then gave a bashful nod of the head towards Dr.Roberts.
"Him," he said.
"Tell us when you saw him last and what he was doing."
"This morning it was. Eight o'clock job at a lady's house in Cheyne Lane. I started on the windows there. Lady was in bed. Looked ill she did. She was just turning her head round on the pillow. This gent I took to be a doctor. He shoved her sleeve up and jabbed something into her arm just about here "he gestured. "She just dropped back on the pillow again. I thought I'd better hop it to another window, so I did. Hope I didn't do wrong in any way?" "You did admirably, my friend," said Poirot. He said quietly: "Eh bien, Dr. Roberts?" "A--a simple restorative---" stammered Roberts. "A last hope of bringing her round. It's monstrous " Poirot interrupted him. "A simple restorative?--N-methyl-cyclo-hexenyl-methyl-malonyl urea," said Poirot. He rolled out the syllables unctuously. "Known more simply as Evipan. Used an as anaesthetic for short operations. Injected intravenously in large doses it produces instant unconsciousness. It is dangerous to use it after veronal or any barbiturates have been given. I noticed the bruised place on her arm where something had obviously been injected into a vein. A hint to the police surgeon and the drug was easily discovered by no less a person than Sir Charles Imphrey, the Home Office Analyst." "That about cooks your goose, I think," said Superintendent Battle. "No need to prove the Shaitana business, though, of course, if necessary we can bring a further charge as to the murder of Mr. Charles Craddockand possibly his Wife dso." The mention of those two names finished Roberts. He leaned back in his chair.
"I throw in my hand," he said. "You've got me! I suppose that sly devil Shaitana put you wise before you came that evening. And I thought I'd settled his hash so nicely." "It isn't Shaitana you've got to thank," said Battle. "The honours lie with M. Poirot here." He went to the door and two men entered. Superintendent Battle's voice became official as he made the formal arrest. As the door closed behind the accused man Mrs. Oliver said happily, if not quite truthfully: "I always said he did it!"
第三十章 谋杀
第三十章 谋杀

露达深疑道："你意思是说，安妮存心推我下去？感觉似乎如此，而且她知道我不会游泳。不过－－她是故意的吗？" "是故意的，"白罗说。 他们正开车穿过伦敦郊外。 "可是－－可是－－为什么呢？" 白罗隔了一两分钟不答腔。他自觉知道安妮这么做的一项起因，而那个起因（竟指德斯帕少校）正坐在露达身旁。 巴特探长咳嗽一声。 "达威斯小姐，你得准备接受震撼。你的朋友曾在班森太太家待过，班森太太并非意外死亡－－至少我们有理由相信如此。" "你这话是什么意思？" 白罗说："我们相信是安妮•梅瑞迪斯掉换了药瓶。" "噢，不－－不，真可怕！不可能。安妮？她为什么要这样？" 巴特探长说："她自有她的理由。不过达威斯小姐，就梅瑞迪斯小姐所知，只有你能提供我们那件事的线索。你曾对奥利佛太太提过那件事，我猜你没告诉安妮吧？" 露达慢慢说："没有。我以为她会生我的气。" 巴特冷冷说："她会的，她会气得要命。但是她以为只有你头脑给她带来危险，所以决心－－呃－－除掉你。" "除掉？我？噢，真残酷！不可能是真的。" 巴特探长说："算啦，她现在已经死了，我们就到此为止吧。不过达威斯小姐，她不是你该交的好朋友，这是事实。" 汽车在一扇门前停下来。 巴特探长说："我们到白罗先生家，好好讨论这件事。" 到了白罗的座谈室，奥利佛太太特意相迎，她正在招待；罗勃兹医生。两个人雪莉酒。奥利佛太太头戴笨重的新帽，身穿天鹅绒衣裳，胸部有个蝴蝶结，上面摆个大苹果核。 奥利佛太太殷勤待客，活像这是她家而不是白罗家似的。她说："请进，请进.我一接到你们的电话，离开挂电话给罗勃兹医生，一起来这儿，他的病人都奄奄一息，他全不管。他们也许正慢慢复原吧。我们要听详细的经过。" 罗勃兹医生说："是的，我真的搞糊涂了。" 白罗说："好，此案结束了。杀夏塔纳先生的凶手终于找到了。" "奥利佛太太也这么说。原来是漂亮的小东西安妮•梅瑞迪斯。我简直不敢相信。叫人难以置信的凶手。" 巴特说："她是凶手没错。三件命案记在她头上－－第四件未能顺利得手，不能怪她。" 罗勃兹咕哝道："难以置信！" 奥利佛太太说："不见得。外表最不象的人－－这一点真实的人生跟小说好象差不多嘛。"  罗勃兹说："今天真叫人诧异。先有洛瑞玛太太的遗书－－我猜是假的，呃？" "正是。假造三封。" "她也写了一封信给自己？" "自然。假造的手法很棒－－当然骗不过专家，不过警方不太可能请专家来鉴定。一切证据都显示洛瑞玛太太是自杀。" "白罗先生，请原谅我好奇，你凭什么疑心她不是自杀呢？" "我在奇尼巷给一位女佣谈过话。" "她告诉你昨天晚上安妮•梅瑞迪斯去过？" "说了那件事，也说了别的。而且，你知道，我已经在心地判定谁是凶手－－亦即杀夏塔纳先生的人。那人不是洛瑞玛太太。" "你凭什么怀疑梅瑞迪斯小姐？" 白罗举起手。"等一下。让我以自己的方式来说明这件事，也就是用'削去法'。杀夏塔纳先生的凶手不是洛瑞玛太太，不是德斯帕少校，说也奇怪，也不是安妮•梅瑞迪斯－－"他的身子往前探；声音呼噜呼噜，柔柔的，很象猫。 "罗勃兹医生，你就是杀死夏塔纳先生的凶手，洛瑞玛太太也是你杀的－－" 现场至少静默三分钟。接着罗勃兹发出险恶的笑声。 "白罗先生，你疯了吗？我确实没杀夏塔纳先生，而且我不可能杀洛瑞玛太太。"他转向苏格兰场的探长说："亲爱的巴特，你是不是支持这一点？" 巴特平平静静说："你还是听白罗先生说完吧。" 白罗说："说实话，虽然我早就知道是你－－而且只有你－－会杀夏塔纳，但是要证明并不简单。洛瑞玛太太的案子可就不同了。"他向前探身。"这个案子不是我查知的，事情比这更简单－－我们有证人目睹你行凶。" 罗勃兹静下来，目光一闪一闪的。他厉声说："你胡扯！" "噢，不，我不是胡扯。事情是大清早发生的；你假惺惺闯进洛瑞玛太太的房间，她头一晚吃了安眠药，还睡得很沉。你虚张声势－－假意看一眼，说她死了！你打发使女去拿白兰地和热水之类的。屋里只剩你一个人。使女几乎看不见你。后来又如何呢？ "罗勃兹医生，你大概没发现，有些擦玻璃的公司专门在大清早工作。有一位清洁工带着梯子和你同时抵达。他把梯子靠在屋侧，开始干活儿。他最先擦的就是洛瑞玛太太卧房的窗子。可是他看到屋内的情景，立刻退到另一扇窗子去，不过他已经看到了实情。他要亲口述说。" 白罗轻轻走到房间另一侧，转达门把叫道："进来吧，史蒂芬，"说罢立即走回来。 一个大块头，外貌笨拙的红发男子走进来。他手上拿着一顶制帽，笨手笨脚转来转去，帽子上有"契而西擦窗公司"等字样。 白罗说："这间屋子里有没有你见过的人？" 那人四下张望，然后害臊地朝罗勃兹医生的方向点点头说："他。" "说说你上次在哪里看见他，他正在做什么？" "今天早上，我在奇尼巷一位太太家上八点钟的班。我开始擦窗户。夫人睡在床上，好象生病了。她在枕头上翻来覆去。她又躺回枕头上。我想我还是跳到另一扇窗子比较好，就这么做了。但愿我没有做错什么吧？" "朋友，你做得很棒！"白罗说。 他平平静静说："如何，罗勃兹医生？" 罗勃兹结结巴巴说："啊－－是一剂简单的补药。希望能让她起死回生。笑死人－－" 白罗打断他的话。 罢了说："简单的补药？Ｎ－－甲基－－环己基－－巴比妥酸尿素……"他叽哩咕噜念出这些音节。"简称'爱维潘'。可做为短期手术的麻醉药。大量注射会使人立刻失去知觉。若吃了'维龙纳'或其它巴比妥系列的药品再使用，非常危险。我发现她手臂上有一处淤伤，显然有药品由那边注入血管。我向警方的法医一提，内政部分析家查理斯•英佛瑞爵士亲自查验，很快就验出是什么药品。" 巴特探长说："我想这就足以让你完蛋了。用不着证明夏塔纳那件事，当然啦，如果必要，我们也可以进一步指控你谋杀查理斯•克拉多克先生－－他太太大概也是你杀的。" 警方一提这两个人，罗勃兹就完蛋了。 他仰靠在椅子上说："我投降。你们逮到我了！我猜那天你们去赴宴之前，狡猾的夏塔纳已经告诉你们了。我自以为封住了他的嘴巴。" 巴特说："你该感谢的不是夏塔纳。荣耀属于这位白罗先生。" 他走到门口，两位大汉走进来。 巴特正式下逮捕令，变得官腔十足。 被告出去，房门关上以后，奥利佛太太高高兴兴说了一句不太诚实的话 ："我始终说是他干的！"
CHAPTER 31 Cards on the Table
CHAPTER 31 Cards on the Table

It was Poirot's moment, every face was turned to his in eager anticipation. "You are very kind," he said, smiling. "You know, I think, that I enjoy my little lecture. I am a prosy old fellow. "This case, to my mind, has been one of the most interesting cases I have ever come across. There was nothing, you see, to go upon. There were four people, one of whom must have committed the crime but which of the four? Was there anything to tell one? In the material sense--no. There were no tangible clues---no fingerprints--no incriminating papers or documents. There were only--the people themselves. "And one tangible cluethe bridge scores. "You may remember that from the beginning I showed a particular interest in those scores. They told me something about the various people who had kept them and they did more. They gave me one valuable hint. I noticed at once, in the third rubber, the figure of 1500 above the line. That figure could only represent one thing--a call of grand slam. Now if a person were to make up their minds to commit a crime under these somewhat unusual circumstances (that is, during a rubber game of bridge) that person was clearly running two serious risks. The first was that the victim might cry out and the second was that even ffthe victim did not cry out some one of the other three might chance to look up at the psychological moment and actually witness the deed. "Now as to the first risk, nothing could be done about it. It was a matter of a gambler's luck. But something could be done about the second. It stands to reason. that during an interesting or an exciting hand the attention of the three players would be wholly on the game, whereas during a dull hand they were more likely to be looking about them. Now a bid of grand slam is always exciting. It is very often (as in this case it was) doubled. Every one of the three players is playing with close attention--the declarer to get his contract, the adversaries to discard correctly and to get him down. It was, then, a distinct possibility that the murder was committed during this particular hand and I determined to find out, if I could, exactly how the bidding had gone. I soon discovered that dummy during this particular hand had been Dr. Roberts. I bore that in mind and approached the matter from my second anglepsychological probability. Of the four suspects Mrs.Lorrimer struck me as by far the most likely to plan and carry out a successful murder but I could not see her as committing any crime that had to be improvised on the spur of the moment. On the other hand her manner that first evening puzzled me. It suggested either that she had committed the murder herself or that she knew who had committed it. Miss Meredith, Major Despard and Dr. Roberts were all psychological possibilities, though, as I have already mentioned, each of them would have committed the crime from an entirely different angle.
"I next made a second test. I got every one in turn to tell me just what they remembered of the room. From that I got some very valuable information. First of all, by far the most likely person to have noticed the dagger was Dr. Roberts. He was a natural observer of trifles of all kinds--what is called an observant man. Of the bridge hands, however, he remembered practically nothing at all. I did not expect him to remember much, but his complete forgetfulness looked as though he had had something else on his mind all the evening. Again, you see, Dr. Roberts was indicated.
"Mrs. Lorrimer I found to have a marvellous card memory, and I could well imagine that with any one of her powers of concentration a murder could easily be committed close at hand and she would never notice anything. She gave me a valuable piece of information. The grand slam was bid by Dr. Roberts (quite unjustifiably)--and he bid it in her suit, not his own, so that she necessarily played the hand.
"The third test, the test on which Superintendent Battle and I built a good deal, was the discovery of the earlier murders so as to establish a similarity of method. Well, the credit for those discoveries belongs to Superintendent Battle, to Mrs. Oliver and to Colonel Race. Discussing the matter with my friend Battle, he confessed himself disappointed because there were no points of similarity between any of the three earlier crimes and that of the murder of Mr. Shaitana. But actually that was not true. The two murders attributed to Dr. Roberts, when examined closely, and from the psychological points of view and not the material one, proved to be almost exactly the same. They, too, had been what I might describe as public murders. A shaving brush boldly infected in the victim's own dressing-room while the doctor officially washes his hands after a visit. The murder of Mrs. Craddock under cover of a typhoid inoculation. Again done quite openly--in the sight of the world, as you might say. And the reaction of the man is the same. Pushed into a corner, he seizes a chance and acts at one--sheer bold audacious bluff-exactly like his play at bridge. As at bridge, so in the murder of Shaitana, he took a long chance and played his cards well. The blow was perfectly struck and at exactly the right moment.
"Now just at the moment that I had decided quite definitely that Roberts was the man, Mrs. Lorrimer asked me to come and see her--and quite convincingly accused herself of the crime! I nearly believed her! For a minute or two I did believe her--and then my little grey cells reasserted their mastery. It could not beso it was not!
"But what she told me was more difficult still.
"She assured me that she had actually seen Anne Meredith commit the crime.
"It was not till the following morning--when I stood by a dead woman's bed--that I saw how I could still be right and Mrs. Lorrimer still have spoken the truth.
"Anne Meredith went over to the fireplace--and saw that Mr. Shaitana was dead! She stopped over him--perhaps stretched out her hand to the gleaming head of the jewelled pin.
"Her lips part to call out, but she does not call out. She remembers Shaitana's talk at dinner. Perhaps he has left some record. She, Anne Meredith, has a motive for desiring his death. Every one will say that she has killed him. She dare not call out. Trembling with fear and apprehension she goes back to her seat.
"So Mrs. Lorrimer is right, since she, as she thought, saw the crime committed but I am right too, for actually she did not see it.
"If Roberts had held his hand at this point, I doubt if we could have ever brought his crimes home to him. We might have done so-by a mixture of bluffand various ingenious devices. I would at any rate have tried.
"But he lost his nerve and once again overbid his hand. And this time the cards lay wrong for him and he came down heavily.
"No doubt he was uneasy. He knew that Battle was nosing about. He foresaw the present situation going on indefinitely, the police still searching--and perhaps, by some miracle--coming on traces of his former crimes. He hit upon the brilliant idea of making Mrs. Lorrimer the scapegoat for the party. His practised eye guessed, no doubt, that she was ill and that her life could not be very much prolonged. How natural in those circumstances for her to choose a quick way out, and before taking it, confess to the crime! So he manages to get a sample of her handwriting--forges three identical letters and arrives at the house hot-foot in the morning with his story of the letter he has just received. His parlourmaid quite correctly is instructed to ring up the police. All he needs is a start. And he gets it. By the time the police surgeon arrives it is all over. Dr. Roberts is ready with his story of artificial respiration that has failed. It is all perfectly plausibleperfectly straightforward.  "In all this he has no idea of throwing suspicion on Anne Meredith. He does not even know of her visit the night before. It is suicide and security only that he is aiming at.
"It is in fact an awkward moment for him when I ask if he is acquainted with Mrs. Lorrimer's handwriting. If the forgery has been detected he must save himself by saying that he has never seen her handwriting. His mind works quickly, but not quickly enough.
"From Wallingford I telephone to Mrs. Oliver. She plays her part by lulling his suspicions and bringing him here. And then when he is congratulating himself that all is well, though not exactly in the way he has planned, the blow falls. Hercule Poirot springs! And so--the gambler will gather in no more tricks. He has thrown his cards upon the table. C'estfini."
There was silence. Rhoda broke it with a sigh.
"What amazing luck that window-cleaner happened to be there," she said.
"Luck? Luck? That was not luck, mademoiselle. That was the grey cells of Hercule Poirot. And that reminds me " He went to the door. "Come in-come in, my dear fellow. You acted your part i merveille." He returned accompanied by the window cleaner, who now held his red hair in his hand and who looked somehow a very different person. "My friend Mr. Gerald Hemmingway, a very promising young actor." "Then there was no window-cleaner?" cried Rhoda. "Nobody saw him?" "I saw," said Poirot. "With the eyes of the mind one can see more than with the eyes of thebody. One leans back and closes the eyes-- Despard said cheerfully: "Let's stab him, Rhoda, and see if his ghost can come back and find out Who did it."
第三十一章 亮出底牌
第三十一章 亮出底牌

现在是白罗最得意的时刻，每一张面孔都转向他，充满了期待。他微笑说："你们真好。你们大概知道我喜欢来一段小演说。我是罗嗦的小老头。 "我认为此案是我所见最有趣的案子之一。毫无办案的凭藉，现场有四个人，案子一定是其中一位干的，到底是哪一个呢？有没有证据可追查？实质上来说，没有。没有具体的线索－－没有指纹，没有可做为证据的文件。只有人物本身。 "唯一的具体线索就是桥牌计分表。 "你们大概记得，我一开始就对计分表很感兴趣。我由此看出计分人的部分特质，而且不止于此。计分表给了我一个有用的暗示。我立刻发现第三盘超水准的一千五百分。这个数字只能代表一种情形－－有人叫'大满贯'。如果一个人决心在打桥牌的时候犯罪，那人要冒两项大危险。第一，受害人也许会叫出声。第二，就算受害人不叫，某一位牌友也可能凑巧抬头，目击这件事。 "第一项危险无法预防，全凭赌徒的运气。第二项则有办法预防。假如牌局有趣又刺激，三位牌友自然会专心打牌；若是平平淡淡的牌，他们比较会东张西望。叫'大满贯'向来很刺激。对方往往会加倍，这回也崇拜例外。三位牌友必定全神贯注－－叫牌的一方想取得他叫的墩数，对手想正确出牌，害他打不成。所以，命案很可能是在这圈特殊的牌局中发生的，我决心尽量查叫牌的细节。我立刻发现这圈牌的'梦家'是罗勃兹医生。我记住这一点，再由另一个角度来研究问题－－也就是心理学的机率。四位嫌犯中我认为洛瑞玛抬头最可能计划执行一椿成功的谋杀案－－但是我不认为她会临时起意犯案。反之，她第一天晚上的表现叫我不解。她若非自己犯案，就是知道凶手是谁。梅瑞迪斯小姐、德斯帕少校和罗勃兹医生由心理学来说都有可能，我已经提过，他们可能由完全不同的角度来犯案。
"我作了第二道试验。我请每一个人轮流说出记忆中屋里的内容。我由此得到了宝贵的资料。首先，最有可能注意到匕首的是罗勃兹医生，他天生擅于观察各种琐物－－是所谓观察型的人。可是他对桥牌几乎一点都记不清。我不奢望他记很多，但他全部忘记，却证明他整晚另有心事。你们瞧，这一点又指向罗勃兹医生。
"我发现洛瑞玛抬头记牌记得太棒了，我看象她这么专心的人，即使命案发生在身畔，她也必定一无所觉。她给了我一则珍贵的情报。那次'大满贯'是罗勃兹医生叫的，叫得离谱，而且不是他自己的牌，而是她的，她不得不打那圈牌。
"第三项试验－－巴特探长和我都仰仗其成果－－是发掘早期的命案，找出方法的雷同性。多亏巴特探长、奥利佛抬头和瑞斯上校，我们才查到早期的资料。我和巴特讨论，他说他和失望，早期的三椿命案和夏塔纳先生的命案毫无相似点。其实不然。罗勃兹医生犯的两个案子若由心理学观点而不由实质观点看来，几乎完全一样。那两个案子也是我所谓的'公开'谋杀。医生探病后正式洗手，在受害人的化妆室里大胆将病毒沾在刮胡刷上。谋杀克拉多克抬头则以伤寒预防针为掩护。又是公开行事－－在世人的眼前犯案。此人的反应相同。躲入一角，逮着机会立刻行动－－纯粹、大胆、旁若无人的一击－－跟他打桥牌的手法一样。桥牌桌上和夏塔纳命案中他都冒大险，玩得很棒。出击手法完美，时间也完全正确。 "我确定凶手是罗勃兹医生时，洛瑞玛太太忽然叫我去见她－－而且自称是她干的！我差一点信了她的话！有一两分钟我真的相信，后来我的灰白色的脑细胞占了上风。不可能嘛，绝对不是！ "但她后来说的话更难理解。 "她说她确实看到安妮•梅瑞迪斯作案。 "直到第二天早晨我站在自杀死亡的老妇人床边，我才看出自己可能是对的，而洛瑞玛太太也没说假话。 "安妮•梅瑞迪斯走到火炉边，看见夏塔纳先生已经死了！她低头看他，说不定还伸手去摸那亮晶晶的宝石领针哩。 "她张口准备叫，却没有叫出声。她想起夏塔纳在晚宴中说的话。也许他留有一些纪录。她安妮•梅瑞迪斯有理由希望他死掉。人人都会说是她杀的。她不敢叫，吓得直发抖，走回座位。 "洛瑞玛太太说得没有错，她自以为看见犯案的经过；但是我的想法也没有错，其实她并未看清楚。 "如果罗勃兹这个时候歇手，我们不见得能让他俯首认罪。当然我们也许能虚张声势，凭各种狡计办到。我无论如何会试一试。可是他惊慌了，再度叫出过高的牌。这回牌运不好，栽得十分惨重。 "他一定心绪不宁。他直到巴特到处探案。他预知情况会不定期进展下去，警方仍在搜寻－－也许奇迹出现，他们会查到他以前的罪行。他想起一个绝妙的主意，让洛瑞玛太太来当替罪羔羊。他行医有经验，一定看出她病重，活不了多久啦。在这种情况下，她提前了结，而且在死前认罪……真是再自然不过了！于是他找到她的笔迹－－假造了三封信，早晨急急忙忙赶到她家，谎称刚刚才收到遗书。他已正确吩咐使女打电话给警方。而他只要下手就行了。他顺利得手。等警方的法医来到时，一切都过去了。罗勃兹医生自称人工呼吸无效。一切都值得喝采，完全公开。 "他没想到要嫁祸给安妮•梅瑞迪斯。他甚至不知道头一天晚上她来过。他只打算弄成自杀的局面。 "我问他认不认识洛瑞玛太太的笔迹，在他而言真是尴尬的一刻。既然警方发觉信是伪造的。他只得自称没见个她的笔迹，以求自保。他的脑筋动得很快，却又不够快。 "我由瓦林福挂电话给奥利佛太太。她出面平息了他的疑虑，带他来这儿。他庆幸事情虽和他计划中不同，却有了很好的发展，就在这个时候，打击来了。赫邱里•白罗猛然一扑！于是－－赌徒无牌可吃了，只得弃牌认输。完了。" 现场一片寂静。露达叹息一声。 她说："擦窗子的工人正电话在场，太幸运了。" "幸运？幸运？小姐，不是幸运。是赫邱里•白罗的灰白色的脑细胞够灵活。我想起来了－－" 他走到门口。 "进来－－进来，好同伴。你演戏演得棒极了。" 他跟擦窗子的工人一起回来，现在清洁工手上抓着红色假发，整个人完全变了。 "吾友吉拉德•海明威先生，是前途无量的演员。" 露达叫道："那么根本没有擦窗户的工人喽？没有人看见他作案？" 白罗说："我看见了。心灵的眼睛比肉眼看得更清楚。只要身子往后靠，闭上眼睛－－" 德斯帕怡然说："露达，我们捅他一刀，看他的幽灵会不会回来查是谁干的。"