曾經轟動一時，在公衆中引起強烈興趣的“斯泰爾斯莊園案”，現在已經有點冷落下來了。然而，由於隨之産生的種種流言蜚語廣為流傳，我的朋友波洛和那一傢的人。都要求我把整個故事寫出來。我們相信，這將有效地駁倒那些迄今為止仍在流傳的聳人聽聞的謠言。
因此，我决定把我和這一事件有關的一些情況簡略地記下來。
我是作為傷病員從前綫給遣送回傢的；在一所令人相當沮喪的療養院裏挨過了幾個月之後，總算給了我一個月的病假。我既無近親也沒有密友，當我正在考慮怎麽來度過這一假期的時候，偶然遇見了約翰·卡文迪什，這些年來我很少見到他。說實在的，我並不十分瞭解他。首先，他比我足足大十五歲，雖然他根本着不出有四十五歲。雖說在做孩子的時候，我常在斯泰爾斯莊園逗留，那是他母親在埃塞剋期①的鄉間邸宅。
我們經過了一番敘舊之後，接着他就邀我上斯泰爾斯去度過我的假期。
“隔了這麽多年又見到你，母親一定會很高興的。”他補充說。
“你母親好嗎？”我問道。
“嗯，很好。她又結婚了，你大概知道了吧？”
我擔心我已有點兒明顯地流露出驚訝的神情。在我的記憶中，他的母親是位端莊的中年婦女（她嫁給約翰父親的時候，他是個鰥夫，已有兩個兒子），現在，無疑至少有七十歲了。我記得她是個精力充沛、辦事專斷的人，有點喜歡慈善事業和社交活動，愛好搞搞義賣之類，扮演“幫得忙”大太②的角色。她是個非常慷慨的女人，她自己有相當可觀的財産。
他們這幢鄉問邸宅斯泰爾斯莊園，是早在他們結婚那年月，卡文迪什先生購置的。他本來已完全在他太太的控製之下，他一去世，這幢宅第也就留給她終生享用了，她的絶大部分收入也歸了她；這樣的安排，對他的兩個兒子來無疑是不公正的。然而，他們的後母對他們倒是非常慷慨；實在是，他們的父親再娶時。他們都還年幼，所以他們一嚮把她看成是自己的親生母親。
弟弟勞倫斯是個文雅的青年。他原已取得了當醫生的資格，但他早就放棄了這個行醫的職業，待在傢裏一心想實現文學上的抱負；雖然他的詩作從來沒有任何顯著的成就。
約翰當過一段時間開業律師，可是，他最終還是過起這種更為愜意的鄉紳生活來了。他在兩年前結了婚，帶着妻子住在斯泰爾斯，不過，我總覺得，他是寧願他的母親多給他一點津貼，好讓他能夠有一個自己的傢的。然而，那位老太太是個喜歡獨斷獨行的人，希望別人聽從她的安排，而在現在這樣的情況下，她當然處於支配地應，就是說：財權在她手中。
約翰覺察到我聽說他母親再嫁的消息後所表現出來的驚訝，苦笑了一下。
“還是個卑鄙齷齪的粗俗漢子！”他粗魯地說。“我可以告訴你，哈斯丁，這搞得我們的日子相當難過。至於哪個伊維③——你還記得伊維嗎？”
“不記得了。”
“呵，我想她是在你那一次去過之後來的。她是母親的管傢，女伴，是個樣樣皆通的人物！那個老伊維，是個大玩物！既不年輕又不漂亮，大傢都拿他們作為嘲弄的對象。
“你是打算說——？”
“哼，這傢夥！誰知道他是打哪幾鑽出來的，藉口是伊維的遠房表兄弟什麽的，雖說她似乎並不特別想承認這種關係。誰都能看出，這傢夥完全是個粗俗漢子。一大把黑鬍子，不管什麽天氣都穿雙漆皮的長統靴！可母親卻立刻對他産生了好感，錄用他當了秘書——你知道嗎？她一直經營着上百個社會團體呢。”
我點點頭。
“當然羅，戰爭已經把幾百個這樣的社團變成幾千個了。這傢夥對她來說無疑是很有用的。可是，三個月前，當她突然宣佈她已和阿弗雷德訂婚時，這可把我們都給驚呆了！這傢夥至少比她要小二十歲呀！這簡直是露骨的，追求有錢的女人；可是你知道，她是個獨斷獨行的女主人，她就嫁給他啦。”
“這一定使你們大傢處境都睏難了吧。”
“睏難！糟透了！”
就在這次談話之後的第三天，我在斯泰爾斯站下了火車。這簡直是個荒謬可笑的小站，四周全是碧緑的田野和鄉間小道，看來毫無明顯的存在理由。約翰·卡文迪什在站臺上等着我，他把我領到汽車跟前。
“你瞧，總算還搞到了一、兩滴汽油，”他說：“主要是由於我母親的活動。”
斯泰爾斯村在離這個小站大約有兩英裏的地方，斯泰爾斯莊園則坐落在小站的另一方向，離它有一英裏第。這是七月初一個寧靜、暖和的日子。當你望着窗外掠過的這片埃塞剋斯的平野時，它沐浴在午後的陽光中，顯得如此青蔥，如此寧靜，簡直使人不能相信，就在離這不很遠的地方，一場大戰正在按預定的過程進行。我感到自己已突然置身於另一個世界。當我們拐入莊園的大門時，約翰說道：
“我怕你在這兒會感到太冷清呢，哈斯丁。”
“老朋友，這正是我所需要的啊。”
“呵，你要是願意過悠閑的生活，那這裏可真舒適極了。我每星期去和志願兵一起操練兩次，在農莊上幫點忙。我的妻子按時去幹點農活。她每天早上五點起身去擠牛奶，一直到吃中飯。要是沒有阿弗雷德·英格裏桑那傢夥的話，這兒確實是一種快活似神仙的生活！”他突然煞住了車，看了着手錶。“不知道我們是不是還來得及去接一下辛西婭。啊，不行啦，她可能已經從醫院出來了。”
“辛西婭！就是你妻子嗎？”
“不，辛西婭是我母親的養女，她的一個老同學的女兒，這個老同學嫁給了一個律師，那人是個流氓，後來栽了大跟鬥，弄得這姑娘身無分文，孤苦無依，結果是我母親救了她。卒西碰往在我們傢已經快兩年了，她在塔明斯特的紅十字醫院工作，離這兒有七英裏地。”
他說最後幾句話時，我們已到了一幢高大的老式房子跟前。一個穿着寬大的花呢裙子的女人，正俯身在花床上，一見我們到來，連忙直起了身子。
“你好，伊維，這位就是我說的負傷的英雄！哈斯丁先生——這位是霍華德小姐。”
霍華德小姐握手很有勁，幾乎都把我給握痛了，在她那被陽光曬黑的臉上有一對藍瑩瑩的眼睛。她是個一眼看去挺討人歡喜的女人，四十歲上下，嗓子深沉，洪亮的聲音，幾乎象個男人，生就一副顯然很寬闊結實的身材，再配上一雙合適的腳——它們被套在結實粗大的靴子裏。我很快發現，她的談吐語句十分簡潔。
“雜草長起來就象房子着火，連趕都趕不上它們，我要抓你的夫的。最好當心一點。”
“我相信，能使自己成為一個有用的人，那我才高興吶。”我回答說。
“別說這一套。决不要說，希望你以後也別說。”
“你真會挖苦人，伊維，”約翰笑了起來，說。“今天在哪兒喝茶呀——裏面還是外面？”
“外面。這麽好的天氣還打算關在屋子裏。”
“那就去吧，今天的園藝活你已經做夠了。你要知道，‘雇工之勞動應與其雇金相符’。去吧，歇一歇，”
“好，”霍華德小姐答應說，脫掉自己的工作手套，“就聽你的吧。”
她在前面帶路，繞過房子，來到一棵大楓樹的樹蔭下襬着茶點的地方。
有一個人從一張柳條椅上站起來。朝我們迎上來幾步。
“我的妻子。這位是哈斯丁，”約翰介紹說。
我决不會忘掉第一次見到瑪麗·卡文迪什的情景。她，高高的苗條的身材，在明朗的陽光下綫條優美；那種欲露還藏的活潑表情。似乎衹在那對神奇的褐色媚眼中才能找到。那雙驚人的眼睛，和我所見過的所有女人的都不同；她擁有一種無聲的非凡的魅力；然而，她那文靜高雅的體態中仍然流露出一種狂熱奔放的野性——所有這一切，都在我的記憶中熊熊燃燒。這是我永遠不會忘記的。
她用一種輕柔、清晰的聲音，說了幾句熱情的話，對我表示歡迎，隨後我就在一張柳條椅上坐了下來，心中為自己接受約翰的邀請感到格外的高興。卡文迪什太太給我斟了茶，她那寥寥數句文雅的話，更加深了我對她的最初印象，覺得她是個會使人完全神魂顛倒的女人。一個有欣賞力的聽衆總是提高人的興致的，因而我用一種幽默的口吻敘述了一些療養院中的趣聞軼事，我用這樣的方式，引起了我的女主人很大的興趣，我自己也感到很得意。當然，約翰雖是個大好人，但他不能被稱作一個高明的對話者。
正在這時候，一個難以忘卻的聲音，從近處的一個開着的落地長窗中飄了出來：
“那末你喝了茶以後給公主寫信嗎，阿弗雷德？給第二天來的塔明斯特夫人的信我自己來寫。或者我們還是等公主那邊有了回答再說？要是她不答應，塔明斯特夫人就可以在第一天來，剋羅斯貝太太第二天，再是公爵夫人——主持學校的開學典禮。”
傳出一個男人的喃喃不清的聲音，接着又響起英格裏桑太大的答話聲：
“對，當然可以。喝了茶以後就好好搞一搞，你考慮得真周到，親愛的阿弗雷德。”
落地長窗又開大了一點，一位端莊的白發老太太，有着一副專橫的面容，從裏面走出來，來到草坪上，她的後面跟着一個男人，顯得一副順從的樣兒。
英格裏桑太太熱情洋溢地對我表示歡迎。
“啊，隔了這麽多年，現在又能見到你，真是太高興了。
阿弗雷德，親愛的，這是哈斯丁先生——這是我的丈夫。”
我有點好奇地打量着“親愛的阿弗雷德”。此人確實有點幾不含時宜。難怪約翰對他那臉絡腮鬍子那麽反感。
這是我所見過的最長最黑的鬍子之一。他戴一副金邊的夾鼻眼鏡，一臉難以理解的冷淡表情。這使我産生一個印象，他在舞臺上也許倒是挺合適的，在現實生活中卻怪不自然。他的聲音頗為油滑，有點假殷勤的味道。他把一隻木頭般的手放到我的手中，說道：
“十分榮幸，哈斯丁先生，”接着他轉身對他的妻子說：“親愛的埃米莉，我覺得這椅墊兒有點潮濕呢。”
當他小心翼翼地調換了一個坐墊時，老太大多情地朝他微笑着。一個在各方面都很聰明的女人的奇怪的述戀！
由於英格裏桑太大的在場，可以覺察出，在這傢人的頭上，似乎都蒙上了一層緊張的關係和隱藏着的敵意。霍畢德小姐尤其盡力掩飾住自己的感情。然而，英格裏桑太太仿佛什麽異常的情況都沒有發現。我所記得的她昔日的那種多才善辯，經過這麽些年來，依然不減當年，她滔滔不絶地說個不停，談的話題主要是由她組織的、不久就要舉行的義賣。她偶爾嚮她丈夫查問一下日子或日期方面的問題。他那殷勤小心的態度舉上從不改變。打從一開始，我就厭惡他，這一想法在我腦子裏一直根深蒂固，而且我自以為我的第一個印象通常都是相當準確的。
過了一會，英格裏桑太太轉嚮了伊夫琳·霍華德，對一些有關信件方面的事情吩咐了幾句，於是她的文夫用他那煞費苦心的聲音和我聊開了：
“你的固定職業就是軍人嗎，哈斯丁先生？”
“不，戰前我在勞埃德商船協會。”
“戰爭結束後你還决定回去嗎？”
“也許是。不外乎回那兒或者是找個新工作。”
瑪麗·卡文迪什嚮前探過身來。
“要是你衹是從你的愛好考慮的話，你願意真正選擇一個怎樣的職業呢？”
“這個，那要看情況了。”
“沒有秘密的癖好吧？”她問道。“告訴我——你被什麽東西吸引來着？每個人通常都被某種可笑的東西吸引着的。”
“你會笑話我的。”
她笑了。
“也許是這樣。”
“好吧，我一直暗地裏渴望成為一個偵探！”
“真不賴——英格蘭場④？還是謝洛剋·福爾摩斯⑤呢？”
“噢，爭取成為謝洛剋·福爾摩斯。不過，事實上，認真說，我對此非常嚮往。我有一次在比利時遇到過一個人，是一位非常著名的偵探，是他激起了我對這一事業的熱情。他是一個不可思議的小個子。他常說，一切優秀的偵探工作僅僅是一個方法問題。我的體係就是以他的這一說法為基礎的——當然，雖然我已經有了更進一步的發展。他是個非常風趣的小個子，一個衣着時髦的，但是驚人地機敏。”
“我也喜歡優秀的偵探小說，”霍華德小姐議論說，“不過，總是寫了那麽多鬍說八道的東西。到最後一章揭露了罪犯，弄得每個人都目瞪口呆。可是真正的犯罪行為——是很快就能發現的。”
“還有大量的犯罪行為沒有被發現哩，”我表示不贊同。
“不是指警方，而是那些當事人。傢裏人。你沒法真正能瞞過他們。他們一定會知道。”
“那麽，”我十分感興趣他說，“你認為假如你和一樁罪行，譬如說謀殺，牽連上的話，你一定能立刻認出罪犯的羅？”
“當然能認出。也許我不會去嚮一大群司法人員證實這一點，可是我確信我一定知道，如果他走近我，我憑手指尖就能感覺到。”
“也許是‘她’呢，”我提醒說。
“也許是。可是謀殺是一種暴力犯罪。幹這的多半是男人。”
“放毒案就不是這樣，”卡文迪什太太那清晰的嗓音使我大吃一驚。“鮑斯但醫生昨天說過，由於醫學界對多數罕有的毒藥普遍無知，這就有可能使無數的放毒案完全不受懷疑。”，。
“唷，瑪麗，你說得多可怕呀！”英格裏桑太大喊了起來。“害得我都覺得毛骨悚然了。噢，辛西婭來了！”
一個穿着愛國護士會的年輕姑娘飄然地穿過草坪跑了過來。
“哦，辛西婭，你今天來晚了。這位是哈斯丁先生——這是穆多契小姐。”
辛西婭·穆多契小姐是個體格健美的年輕姑娘，充滿生氣和活力。她敏捷地摘下小小的護士帽，那一頭疏鬆的慄色捲發真使我驚嘆不已。她伸出一隻又白又嫩的小手，接過了茶懷，要是再有烏黑的眼睛和睫毛，那就真是一個美人兒了。
她一下在約翰旁邊的草地上坐了下來，當我把一盤三明冶朝她遞過去時，她朝我笑了笑。
“來，坐到草地上來吧，這要舒服多了。”
我順從地坐了下去。
“你是在塔明斯特工作嗎，穆多契小姐？”
她點點頭。
“活受罪。”
“怎麽，他們欺負你了？”我笑着問道。
“我倒喜歡看到他們那樣！”辛西婭神氣十足地喊了起來。
“我有一個堂妹就是做護士的，”我說，“她也對那些‘修女們’⑥嚇得要命。”
“這不奇怪。你知道，哈斯丁先生，護上長就是那樣。她們的確是那樣！你不知道！謝天謝地，我可不是護士，我在藥房工作。”
“你毒死過多少人呀？”我笑着問道。
辛西姬也笑了起來。
“啊，好幾百了！”她說。
“辛西婭，”英格裏桑太太叫道，“你能給我寫幾封短信嗎？”
“當然可以，埃來莉阿姨。”
她敏捷地一躍而起，她的一舉一動中的某些東西，使我想到，她完全處於一個從屬的地位；英格裏桑太太總的來說可算是仁慈的，但她也不讓她忘掉這一點。
我的女主人轉嚮我。
“約翰會帶你去你的房間。七點半吃晚飯。我們現在有時候已經不吃晚正餐了。塔明斯特夫人，就是我們的議員的太太——她是已故的阿博茨布雷勳爵的女兒——也是這樣。她贊同我的意見，一個人必須成為節約的榜樣。我們完全稱得上是個戰時家庭了；我們這兒一點東西都不浪費——即便是一小片廢紙都要積起來，用麻袋裝走。”
我表達了我的敬賞之意，接着約翰就帶我進屋，上了樓梯，樓梯在半路上左右分開，通嚮這幢房子的兩廂。我的房間在左側，朝着庭園。
約翰走了，幾分鐘後，我從窗口看到他和辛西婭手輓手慢慢地從草坪上走了過去。接着，我聽到了英格裏桑大太急切地叫着“辛西婭”的聲音，姑娘吃了一驚，立刻朝房子跑回去了。就在這時候，有個男人從樹蔭中踱了出來，慢慢地朝同一個方向走去。他看上去四十歲上下，皮膚黝黑，臉颳得光光的，表情憂鬱，似乎正被一種強烈的感情所控製。當他經過我的窗下時，朝上看了看。啊，我認出了他，雖然從我們最後一次見面以來，在已經逝去的十五個年頭中，他有了很大的變化。這是約翰的弟弟勞倫斯·卡文迪什。我感到納悶，他臉上為什麽會帶上那樣異常的表情。
後來，我就沒有再會想他，回頭考慮我自己的事情了。
這天傍晚過得十分愉快，晚上，我夢見了那個不可思議的女人——瑪麗·卡文迪什。
第二天早晨，陽光燦爛，我滿心期待着一次令人高興的出遊。
一直到吃中飯的時候，我纔見到卡文迪什太太。她主動提出陪我去散步，於是我們在林子裏漫遊，度過了一個令人陶醉的下午，回傢時已是五點左右。
我們一進門廳，約翰就招呼我們倆到吸煙室丟。從他臉上，我立刻看出一定出了什麽亂子了。我們跟着他走進房間，等我們進去後，他關上了門。
“喂！瑪麗，鬧得一塌糊塗。伊維和阿弗雷德大吵了一場，她要走了。”
“伊維？要走？”
約翰陰鬱地點點頭。
“是的。現在她上母親那兒丟了——哦，伊維來了。”
霍華德小姐走了進來。她冷冷地抿着嘴，手裏拎着一隻小提箱，看上去既激動又堅决，有點兒處於守勢。
“不管怎麽樣，”她大聲嚷道，“我已說出了我的想法！”
“親愛的伊維，”卡文迪什太太說，“是真的？”
霍華德小姐冷冷地點點頭。
千真萬確！我對埃米莉說了一些事，恐怕她是不會忘記或者馬上原諒我了。不管這些話是否衹聽進去了一點點，即使說了也可能是白說，我還是照直對她說了：“你是個上了年歲的老太太了，埃米莉，再沒有一個人會象個老傻瓜一般傻的了。那男人比你年輕二十歲哩。別欺騙自己了，她娶你是為了什麽？錢！行了，別給他那麽多錢。那個農場主雷剋斯可有個非常年輕美貌的老婆。你衹要問問你的阿弗雷德看，他在那兒消磨掉多少時間。’她氣壞了。傻瓜！可我還是說下去：‘我這是給你提出忠告，不管你愛聽還是不愛聽。那個男人看到你恨不得把你謀殺在你床上哩。他是一個壞蛋。你愛跟我怎麽說就怎麽說吧，但是請你記住我對你說過的話。他是一個壞蛋！’”
“她怎麽說？”
霍華德小姐作了一個意味深長的怪相。
“什麽‘親愛的阿弗雷德’——還有‘最親愛的阿弗雷德’——說什麽這是‘惡意的誹謗’啦——‘無恥的謊言’啦——是‘刻毒的女人’——誣告她的‘親愛的丈夫’！我還是早點離開她的傢好。所以我這就走。”
“不是現在吧？”
“現在就走！”
我們坐在那兒盯着她看了一會。後來，約翰·卡文迪什發現他的勸說全然無濟幹事，就去查看火車時刻。跟着，他的妻子也走了，她嘴裏咕噥着什麽，大意是得勸英格裏桑太太最好對此多想想。
她一離開房間，霍華德小姐的臉色就變了。她急切地朝我湊了過來。
“哈斯丁先生，你是一位正直的人。我可以信托你麽？”
我微微一驚。她把一隻手放到我的胳臂上，放低聲音輕輕說：
“哈斯丁先生，請你對她多加照顧吧，我那可憐的埃米莉。他們是一夥騙子——所有人全是。哦，我知道我在說些什麽。他們當中沒有一個人不手頭拮据，衹想千方百計地從她那兒搞走錢。我已盡我所能地保護了她。現在，我讓開了路，他們可以乘機欺弄她了。”
“當然，霍華德小姐，”我說道，“我將盡力而為，不過我認為你太激動了，也太過慮了。”
她緩緩接着一個食指打斷了我的話。
“年輕人，相信我，我在這世界上好歹總算比你多活幾年。我衹要求你睜大眼睛時刻提防就是了。你會懂得我說這話的意思的。”
從打開的窗戶外傳來了汽車的震顛聲，霍華德小姐站起身來，朝門口定去。外面響起約翰的聲音，她一隻字握着門把，扭過頭來對我打了個招呼。
“主要的，哈斯丁先生，是要註意那個惡棍——她的文夫！”
沒有時間再多說什麽了。霍華德小姐已被淹沒在一片熱切的勸她別走的說話聲和道別聲中。英格裏桑夫婦沒有露面。
汽車剛一開走，卡文迪什太太就突然離開大傢，穿過車道，往草坪那邊嚮一個正朝這幢房子走來的蓄着鬍子的高個子男人走了過去。當她對他伸出手去的時候，她的雙頰泛起了兩朵紅暈。
“那是誰？”我銳聲問道，因為我對此人有一種出於本能的懷疑。
“那是鮑斯坦醫生。”約翰簡單地回答說。
“鮑斯坦醫生是誰？”
“他患過嚴重的神經衰弱癥，現在正待在這個村子裏進行安靜療法。他是倫敦的一位專傢。我認為，是個很有才幹的人——當今最出色的毒物學專傢之一。”
“他是瑪麗的要好朋友，”辛西婭忍不住插嘴說。
約翰·卡文迪什皺起了眉頭，改變了話題。
“去散個步吧，哈斯丁。這是件糟糕透頂的事。她說話老是那麽祖魯，可是在英國沒有比伊夫琳·霍華德這樣更忠實可靠的朋友了。”
他帶我走上種植園中間的小徑，穿過在莊園一側的林子，朝村子踱去。
當我們在回傢的路上，再次穿過一座大門時，一個從對面過來的吉普賽型的漂亮年輕女人，微笑着嚮我們點頭問好。
“是個漂亮姑娘，”我以鑒賞的口吻說。
約翰的臉色沉了下來。
“這是雷剋斯太太。”
“就是霍華德小姐說的那個——”
“一點不差。”約翰說，帶着一種毫無必要的粗魯口吻。
我想起了大房子裏的那位白發蒼蒼的老太太，以及方纔對我們微笑來着的那張活潑淘氣的小臉蛋，一種模模糊糊的預感象一陣寒風使得我全身毛骨悚然。我把它撇到了一邊。
“斯泰爾斯真是一座光榮的古老邸宅。”我對約翰說。
約翰優鬱地點點頭。
“是呀，是一宗好資財啊。它將來總有一天會是我的——要是我父親立下的是一份象樣的遺囑的話，按理現在就應該是我的了。而且。那樣我手頭也不會象現在這樣拮据得要命了。”
“手頭拮据，你？”，
“親愛的哈斯丁，我不想告訴你，我為了搞錢真是智窮計盡了啊。”
“你弟弟不能助你一臂之力麽？”
“勞倫斯？他用新奇花樣的裝幀印刷那些亂七八糟的詩，把他有的每一分錢都花光了。不，我們都是窮光蛋。
我必須說，我母親一直來對我們還是很好的。這是說，到現在為止。當然，打她結婚以後——”他突然停住了，皺起了眉頭。
我第一次感到，隨着伊夫琳·霍華德的離去，某種難以確切表達的東西也從這環境中消失了。她的存在使安全有了保證。而現在，安全已經失去——空氣中似乎都充滿了猜疑。鮑斯坦醫生那張陰險的臉又在我的眼前出現了，使我感到不快。我的腦子裏充滿了對每個人每件事的模模糊糊的懷疑。一時之間，我有了一種快要出事的預感。
註釋：
①英格蘭東海岸一郡。
②語處英國劇作傢誇爾的喜劇（The Beaux Stratagem）中人物名。
③即伊夫琳的呢稱。
④指倫敦廳，此處意為公傢偵探。
⑤福爾摩斯為私傢偵探。
⑥護士長。
I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to my being connected with the affair.
I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending some months in a rather depressing Convalescent Home, was given a month's sick leave. Having no near relations or friends, I was trying to make up my mind what to do, when I ran across John Cavendish. I had seen very little of him for some years. Indeed, I had never known him particularly well. He was a good fifteen years my senior, for one thing, though he hardly looked his forty-five years. As a boy, though, I had often stayed at Styles, his mother's place in Essex.
We had a good yarn about old times, and it ended in his inviting me down to Styles to spend my leave there.
"The mater will be delighted to see you again--after all those years," he added.
"Your mother keeps well?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. I suppose you know that she has married again?"
I am afraid I showed my surprise rather plainly. Mrs. Cavendish, who had married John's father when he was a widower with two sons, had been a handsome woman of middle-age as I remembered her. She certainly could not be a day less than seventy now. I recalled her as an energetic, autocratic personality, somewhat inclined to charitable and social notoriety, with a fondness for opening bazaars and playing the Lady Bountiful. She was a most generous woman, and possessed a considerable fortune of her own.
Their country-place, Styles Court, had been purchased by Mr. Cavendish early in their married life. He had been completely under his wife's ascendancy, so much so that, on dying, he left the place to her for her lifetime, as well as the larger part of his income; an arrangement that was distinctly unfair to his two sons. Their step-mother, however, had always been most generous to them; indeed, they were so young at the time of their father's remarriage that they always thought of her as their own mother.
Lawrence, the younger, had been a delicate youth. He had qualified as a doctor but early relinquished the profession of medicine, and lived at home while pursuing literary ambitions; though his verses never had any marked success.
John practiced for some time as a barrister, but had finally settled down to the more congenial life of a country squire. He had married two years ago, and had taken his wife to live at Styles, though I entertained a shrewd suspicion that he would have preferred his mother to increase his allowance, which would have enabled him to have a home of his own. Mrs. Cavendish, however, was a lady who liked to make her own plans, and expected other people to fall in with them, and in this case she certainly had the whip hand, namely: the purse strings.
John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother's remarriage and smiled rather ruefully.
"Rotten little bounder too!" he said savagely. "I can tell you, Hastings, it's making life jolly difficult for us. As for Evie--you remember Evie?"
"No."
"Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She's the mater's factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport--old Evie! Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make them."
"You were going to say----?"
"Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of being a second cousin or something of Evie's, though she didn't seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He's got a great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as secretary--you know how she's always running a hundred societies?"
I nodded.
"Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands. No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It's simply bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are--she is her own mistress, and she's married him."
"It must be a difficult situation for you all."
"Difficult! It's damnable!"
Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the platform, and piloted me out to the car.
"Got a drop or two of petrol still, you see," he remarked. "Mainly owing to the mater's activities."
The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. As we turned in at the lodge gates, John said:
"I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet down here, Hastings."
"My dear fellow, that's just what I want."
"Oh, it's pleasant enough if you want to lead the idle life. I drill with the volunteers twice a week, and lend a hand at the farms. My wife works regularly 'on the land'. She is up at five every morning to milk, and keeps at it steadily until lunchtime. It's a jolly good life taking it all round--if it weren't for that fellow Alfred Inglethorp!" He checked the car suddenly, and glanced at his watch. "I wonder if we've time to pick up Cynthia. No, she'll have started from the hospital by now."
"Cynthia! That's not your wife?"
"No, Cynthia is a protegee of my mother's, the daughter of an old schoolfellow of hers, who married a rascally solicitor. He came a cropper, and the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My mother came to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly two years now. She works in the Red Cross Hospital at Tadminster, seven miles away."
As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old house. A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a flower bed, straightened herself at our approach.
"Hullo, Evie, here's our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings--Miss Howard."
Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I had an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was a pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, almost manly in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible square body, with feet to match--these last encased in good thick boots. Her conversation, I soon found, was couched in the telegraphic style.
"Weeds grow like house afire. Can't keep even with 'em. Shall press you in. Better be careful."
"I'm sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful," I responded.
"Don't say it. Never does. Wish you hadn't later."
"You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea to-day--inside or out?"
"Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house."
"Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The labourer is worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be refreshed."
"Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm inclined to agree with you."
She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the shade of a large sycamore.
A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps to meet us.
"My wife, Hastings," said John.
I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never forget them.
She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly glad that I had accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a brilliant conversationalist.
At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open French window near at hand:
"Then you'll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I'll write to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the second. Then there's the Duchess--about the school fete."
There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's rose in reply:
"Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so thoughtful, Alfred dear."
The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, a suggestion of deference in his manner.
Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion.
"Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my husband."
I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in mine and said:
"This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: "Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp."
She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an otherwise sensible woman!
With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd.
Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his painstaking voice:
"Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?"
"No, before the war I was in Lloyd's."
"And you will return there after it is over?"
"Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether."
Mary Cavendish leant forward.
"What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just consult your inclination?"
"Well, that depends."
"No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to something? Every one is--usually something absurd."
"You'll laugh at me."
She smiled.
"Perhaps."
"Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!"
"The real thing--Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?"
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a mere matter of method. My system is based on his--though of course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever."
"Like a good detective story myself," remarked Miss Howard. "Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last chapter. Every one dumbfounded. Real crime--you'd know at once."
"There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes," I argued.
"Don't mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The family. You couldn't really hoodwink them. They'd know."
"Then," I said, much amused, "you think that if you were mixed up in a crime, say a murder, you'd be able to spot the murderer right off?"
"Of course I should. Mightn't be able to prove it to a pack of lawyers. But I'm certain I'd know. I'd feel it in my fingertips if he came near me."
"It might be a 'she,' " I suggested.
"Might. But murder's a violent crime. Associate it more with a man."
"Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs. Cavendish's clear voice startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the medical profession, there were probably countless cases of poisoning quite unsuspected."
"Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. "It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, there's Cynthia!"
A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn.
"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss Murdoch."
Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty.
She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me.
"Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer."
I dropped down obediently.
"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?"
She nodded.
"For my sins."
"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.
"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity.
"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is terrified of 'Sisters'."
"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They simp--ly _are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the dispensary."
"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling.
Cynthia smiled too.
"Oh, hundreds!" she said.
"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write a few notes for me?"
"Certainly, Aunt Emily."
She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp, kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.
My hostess turned to me.
"John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We have given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, our Member's wife--she was the late Lord Abbotsbury's daughter--does the same. She agrees with me that one must set an example of economy. We are quite a war household; nothing is wasted here--every scrap of waste paper, even, is saved and sent away in sacks."
I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and up the broad staircase, which forked right and left half-way to different wings of the building. My room was in the left wing, and looked out over the park.
John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window walking slowly across the grass arm in arm with Cynthia Murdoch. I heard Mrs. Inglethorp call "Cynthia" impatiently, and the girl started and ran back to the house. At the same moment, a man stepped out from the shadow of a tree and walked slowly in the same direction. He looked about forty, very dark with a melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion seemed to be mastering him. He looked up at my window as he passed, and I recognized him, though he had changed much in the fifteen years that had elapsed since we last met. It was John's younger brother, Lawrence Cavendish. I wondered what it was that had brought that singular expression to his face.
Then I dismissed him from my mind, and returned to the contemplation of my own affairs.
The evening passed pleasantly enough; and I dreamed that night of that enigmatical woman, Mary Cavendish.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and I was full of the anticipation of a delightful visit.
I did not see Mrs. Cavendish until lunch-time, when she volunteered to take me for a walk, and we spent a charming afternoon roaming in the woods, returning to the house about five.
As we entered the large hall, John beckoned us both into the smoking-room. I saw at once by his face that something disturbing had occurred. We followed him in, and he shut the door after us.
"Look here, Mary, there's the deuce of a mess. Evie's had a row with Alfred Inglethorp, and she's off."
"Evie? Off?"
John nodded gloomily.
"Yes; you see she went to the mater, and--Oh, here's Evie herself."
Miss Howard entered. Her lips were set grimly together, and she carried a small suit-case. She looked excited and determined, and slightly on the defensive.
"At any rate," she burst out, "I've spoken my mind!"
"My dear Evelyn," cried Mrs. Cavendish, "this can't be true!"
Miss Howard nodded grimly.
"True enough! Afraid I said some things to Emily she won't forget or forgive in a hurry. Don't mind if they've only sunk in a bit. Probably water off a duck's back, though. I said right out: 'You're an old woman, Emily, and there's no fool like an old fool. The man's twenty years younger than you, and don't you fool yourself as to what he married you for. Money! Well, don't let him have too much of it. Farmer Raikes has got a very pretty young wife. Just ask your Alfred how much time he spends over there.' She was very angry. Natural! I went on, 'I'm going to warn you, whether you like it or not. That man would as soon murder you in your bed as look at you. He's a bad lot. You can say what you like to me, but remember what I've told you. He's a bad lot!' "
"What did she say?"
Miss Howard made an extremely expressive grimace.
" 'Darling Alfred'--'dearest Alfred'--'wicked calumnies' --'wicked lies'--'wicked woman'--to accuse her 'dear husband'! The sooner I left her house the better. So I'm off."
"But not now?"
"This minute!"
For a moment we sat and stared at her. Finally John Cavendish, finding his persuasions of no avail, went off to look up the trains. His wife followed him, murmuring something about persuading Mrs. Inglethorp to think better of it.
As she left the room, Miss Howard's face changed. She leant towards me eagerly.
"Mr. Hastings, you're honest. I can trust you?"
I was a little startled. She laid her hand on my arm, and sank her voice to a whisper.
"Look after her, Mr. Hastings. My poor Emily. They're a lot of sharks--all of them. Oh, I know what I'm talking about. There isn't one of them that's not hard up and trying to get money out of her. I've protected her as much as I could. Now I'm out of the way, they'll impose upon her."
"Of course, Miss Howard," I said, "I'll do everything I can, but I'm sure you're excited and overwrought."
She interrupted me by slowly shaking her forefinger.
"Young man, trust me. I've lived in the world rather longer than you have. All I ask you is to keep your eyes open. You'll see what I mean."
The throb of the motor came through the open window, and Miss Howard rose and moved to the door. John's voice sounded outside. With her hand on the handle, she turned her head over her shoulder, and beckoned to me.
"Above all, Mr. Hastings, watch that devil--her husband!"
There was no time for more. Miss Howard was swallowed up in an eager chorus of protests and good-byes. The Inglethorps did not appear.
As the motor drove away, Mrs. Cavendish suddenly detached herself from the group, and moved across the drive to the lawn to meet a tall bearded man who had been evidently making for the house. The colour rose in her cheeks as she held out her hand to him.
"Who is that?" I asked sharply, for instinctively I distrusted the man.
"That's Dr. Bauerstein," said John shortly.
"And who is Dr. Bauerstein?"
"He's staying in the village doing a rest cure, after a bad nervous breakdown. He's a London specialist; a very clever man--one of the greatest living experts on poisons, I believe."
"And he's a great friend of Mary's," put in Cynthia, the irrepressible.
John Cavendish frowned and changed the subject.
"Come for a stroll, Hastings. This has been a most rotten business. She always had a rough tongue, but there is no stauncher friend in England than Evelyn Howard."
He took the path through the plantation, and we walked down to the village through the woods which bordered one side of the estate.
As we passed through one of the gates on our way home again, a pretty young woman of gipsy type coming in the opposite direction bowed and smiled.
"That's a pretty girl," I remarked appreciatively.
John's face hardened.
"That is Mrs. Raikes."
"The one that Miss Howard----"
"Exactly," said John, with rather unnecessary abruptness.
I thought of the white-haired old lady in the big house, and that vivid wicked little face that had just smiled into ours, and a vague chill of foreboding crept over me. I brushed it aside.
"Styles is really a glorious old place," I said to John.
He nodded rather gloomily.
"Yes, it's a fine property. It'll be mine some day--should be mine now by rights, if my father had only made a decent will. And then I shouldn't be so damned hard up as I am now."
"Hard up, are you?"
"My dear Hastings, I don't mind telling you that I'm at my wit's end for money."
"Couldn't your brother help you?"
"Lawrence? He's gone through every penny he ever had, publishing rotten verses in fancy bindings. No, we're an impecunious lot. My mother's always been awfully good to us, I must say. That is, up to now. Since her marriage, of course----" he broke off, frowning.
For the first time I felt that, with Evelyn Howard, something indefinable had gone from the atmosphere. Her presence had spelt security. Now that security was removed--and the air seemed rife with suspicion. The sinister face of Dr. Bauerstein recurred to me unpleasantly. A vague suspicion of every one and everything filled my mind. Just for a moment I had a premonition of approaching evil.
因此，我决定把我和這一事件有關的一些情況簡略地記下來。
我是作為傷病員從前綫給遣送回傢的；在一所令人相當沮喪的療養院裏挨過了幾個月之後，總算給了我一個月的病假。我既無近親也沒有密友，當我正在考慮怎麽來度過這一假期的時候，偶然遇見了約翰·卡文迪什，這些年來我很少見到他。說實在的，我並不十分瞭解他。首先，他比我足足大十五歲，雖然他根本着不出有四十五歲。雖說在做孩子的時候，我常在斯泰爾斯莊園逗留，那是他母親在埃塞剋期①的鄉間邸宅。
我們經過了一番敘舊之後，接着他就邀我上斯泰爾斯去度過我的假期。
“隔了這麽多年又見到你，母親一定會很高興的。”他補充說。
“你母親好嗎？”我問道。
“嗯，很好。她又結婚了，你大概知道了吧？”
我擔心我已有點兒明顯地流露出驚訝的神情。在我的記憶中，他的母親是位端莊的中年婦女（她嫁給約翰父親的時候，他是個鰥夫，已有兩個兒子），現在，無疑至少有七十歲了。我記得她是個精力充沛、辦事專斷的人，有點喜歡慈善事業和社交活動，愛好搞搞義賣之類，扮演“幫得忙”大太②的角色。她是個非常慷慨的女人，她自己有相當可觀的財産。
他們這幢鄉問邸宅斯泰爾斯莊園，是早在他們結婚那年月，卡文迪什先生購置的。他本來已完全在他太太的控製之下，他一去世，這幢宅第也就留給她終生享用了，她的絶大部分收入也歸了她；這樣的安排，對他的兩個兒子來無疑是不公正的。然而，他們的後母對他們倒是非常慷慨；實在是，他們的父親再娶時。他們都還年幼，所以他們一嚮把她看成是自己的親生母親。
弟弟勞倫斯是個文雅的青年。他原已取得了當醫生的資格，但他早就放棄了這個行醫的職業，待在傢裏一心想實現文學上的抱負；雖然他的詩作從來沒有任何顯著的成就。
約翰當過一段時間開業律師，可是，他最終還是過起這種更為愜意的鄉紳生活來了。他在兩年前結了婚，帶着妻子住在斯泰爾斯，不過，我總覺得，他是寧願他的母親多給他一點津貼，好讓他能夠有一個自己的傢的。然而，那位老太太是個喜歡獨斷獨行的人，希望別人聽從她的安排，而在現在這樣的情況下，她當然處於支配地應，就是說：財權在她手中。
約翰覺察到我聽說他母親再嫁的消息後所表現出來的驚訝，苦笑了一下。
“還是個卑鄙齷齪的粗俗漢子！”他粗魯地說。“我可以告訴你，哈斯丁，這搞得我們的日子相當難過。至於哪個伊維③——你還記得伊維嗎？”
“不記得了。”
“呵，我想她是在你那一次去過之後來的。她是母親的管傢，女伴，是個樣樣皆通的人物！那個老伊維，是個大玩物！既不年輕又不漂亮，大傢都拿他們作為嘲弄的對象。
“你是打算說——？”
“哼，這傢夥！誰知道他是打哪幾鑽出來的，藉口是伊維的遠房表兄弟什麽的，雖說她似乎並不特別想承認這種關係。誰都能看出，這傢夥完全是個粗俗漢子。一大把黑鬍子，不管什麽天氣都穿雙漆皮的長統靴！可母親卻立刻對他産生了好感，錄用他當了秘書——你知道嗎？她一直經營着上百個社會團體呢。”
我點點頭。
“當然羅，戰爭已經把幾百個這樣的社團變成幾千個了。這傢夥對她來說無疑是很有用的。可是，三個月前，當她突然宣佈她已和阿弗雷德訂婚時，這可把我們都給驚呆了！這傢夥至少比她要小二十歲呀！這簡直是露骨的，追求有錢的女人；可是你知道，她是個獨斷獨行的女主人，她就嫁給他啦。”
“這一定使你們大傢處境都睏難了吧。”
“睏難！糟透了！”
就在這次談話之後的第三天，我在斯泰爾斯站下了火車。這簡直是個荒謬可笑的小站，四周全是碧緑的田野和鄉間小道，看來毫無明顯的存在理由。約翰·卡文迪什在站臺上等着我，他把我領到汽車跟前。
“你瞧，總算還搞到了一、兩滴汽油，”他說：“主要是由於我母親的活動。”
斯泰爾斯村在離這個小站大約有兩英裏的地方，斯泰爾斯莊園則坐落在小站的另一方向，離它有一英裏第。這是七月初一個寧靜、暖和的日子。當你望着窗外掠過的這片埃塞剋斯的平野時，它沐浴在午後的陽光中，顯得如此青蔥，如此寧靜，簡直使人不能相信，就在離這不很遠的地方，一場大戰正在按預定的過程進行。我感到自己已突然置身於另一個世界。當我們拐入莊園的大門時，約翰說道：
“我怕你在這兒會感到太冷清呢，哈斯丁。”
“老朋友，這正是我所需要的啊。”
“呵，你要是願意過悠閑的生活，那這裏可真舒適極了。我每星期去和志願兵一起操練兩次，在農莊上幫點忙。我的妻子按時去幹點農活。她每天早上五點起身去擠牛奶，一直到吃中飯。要是沒有阿弗雷德·英格裏桑那傢夥的話，這兒確實是一種快活似神仙的生活！”他突然煞住了車，看了着手錶。“不知道我們是不是還來得及去接一下辛西婭。啊，不行啦，她可能已經從醫院出來了。”
“辛西婭！就是你妻子嗎？”
“不，辛西婭是我母親的養女，她的一個老同學的女兒，這個老同學嫁給了一個律師，那人是個流氓，後來栽了大跟鬥，弄得這姑娘身無分文，孤苦無依，結果是我母親救了她。卒西碰往在我們傢已經快兩年了，她在塔明斯特的紅十字醫院工作，離這兒有七英裏地。”
他說最後幾句話時，我們已到了一幢高大的老式房子跟前。一個穿着寬大的花呢裙子的女人，正俯身在花床上，一見我們到來，連忙直起了身子。
“你好，伊維，這位就是我說的負傷的英雄！哈斯丁先生——這位是霍華德小姐。”
霍華德小姐握手很有勁，幾乎都把我給握痛了，在她那被陽光曬黑的臉上有一對藍瑩瑩的眼睛。她是個一眼看去挺討人歡喜的女人，四十歲上下，嗓子深沉，洪亮的聲音，幾乎象個男人，生就一副顯然很寬闊結實的身材，再配上一雙合適的腳——它們被套在結實粗大的靴子裏。我很快發現，她的談吐語句十分簡潔。
“雜草長起來就象房子着火，連趕都趕不上它們，我要抓你的夫的。最好當心一點。”
“我相信，能使自己成為一個有用的人，那我才高興吶。”我回答說。
“別說這一套。决不要說，希望你以後也別說。”
“你真會挖苦人，伊維，”約翰笑了起來，說。“今天在哪兒喝茶呀——裏面還是外面？”
“外面。這麽好的天氣還打算關在屋子裏。”
“那就去吧，今天的園藝活你已經做夠了。你要知道，‘雇工之勞動應與其雇金相符’。去吧，歇一歇，”
“好，”霍華德小姐答應說，脫掉自己的工作手套，“就聽你的吧。”
她在前面帶路，繞過房子，來到一棵大楓樹的樹蔭下襬着茶點的地方。
有一個人從一張柳條椅上站起來。朝我們迎上來幾步。
“我的妻子。這位是哈斯丁，”約翰介紹說。
我决不會忘掉第一次見到瑪麗·卡文迪什的情景。她，高高的苗條的身材，在明朗的陽光下綫條優美；那種欲露還藏的活潑表情。似乎衹在那對神奇的褐色媚眼中才能找到。那雙驚人的眼睛，和我所見過的所有女人的都不同；她擁有一種無聲的非凡的魅力；然而，她那文靜高雅的體態中仍然流露出一種狂熱奔放的野性——所有這一切，都在我的記憶中熊熊燃燒。這是我永遠不會忘記的。
她用一種輕柔、清晰的聲音，說了幾句熱情的話，對我表示歡迎，隨後我就在一張柳條椅上坐了下來，心中為自己接受約翰的邀請感到格外的高興。卡文迪什太太給我斟了茶，她那寥寥數句文雅的話，更加深了我對她的最初印象，覺得她是個會使人完全神魂顛倒的女人。一個有欣賞力的聽衆總是提高人的興致的，因而我用一種幽默的口吻敘述了一些療養院中的趣聞軼事，我用這樣的方式，引起了我的女主人很大的興趣，我自己也感到很得意。當然，約翰雖是個大好人，但他不能被稱作一個高明的對話者。
正在這時候，一個難以忘卻的聲音，從近處的一個開着的落地長窗中飄了出來：
“那末你喝了茶以後給公主寫信嗎，阿弗雷德？給第二天來的塔明斯特夫人的信我自己來寫。或者我們還是等公主那邊有了回答再說？要是她不答應，塔明斯特夫人就可以在第一天來，剋羅斯貝太太第二天，再是公爵夫人——主持學校的開學典禮。”
傳出一個男人的喃喃不清的聲音，接着又響起英格裏桑太大的答話聲：
“對，當然可以。喝了茶以後就好好搞一搞，你考慮得真周到，親愛的阿弗雷德。”
落地長窗又開大了一點，一位端莊的白發老太太，有着一副專橫的面容，從裏面走出來，來到草坪上，她的後面跟着一個男人，顯得一副順從的樣兒。
英格裏桑太太熱情洋溢地對我表示歡迎。
“啊，隔了這麽多年，現在又能見到你，真是太高興了。
阿弗雷德，親愛的，這是哈斯丁先生——這是我的丈夫。”
我有點好奇地打量着“親愛的阿弗雷德”。此人確實有點幾不含時宜。難怪約翰對他那臉絡腮鬍子那麽反感。
這是我所見過的最長最黑的鬍子之一。他戴一副金邊的夾鼻眼鏡，一臉難以理解的冷淡表情。這使我産生一個印象，他在舞臺上也許倒是挺合適的，在現實生活中卻怪不自然。他的聲音頗為油滑，有點假殷勤的味道。他把一隻木頭般的手放到我的手中，說道：
“十分榮幸，哈斯丁先生，”接着他轉身對他的妻子說：“親愛的埃米莉，我覺得這椅墊兒有點潮濕呢。”
當他小心翼翼地調換了一個坐墊時，老太大多情地朝他微笑着。一個在各方面都很聰明的女人的奇怪的述戀！
由於英格裏桑太大的在場，可以覺察出，在這傢人的頭上，似乎都蒙上了一層緊張的關係和隱藏着的敵意。霍畢德小姐尤其盡力掩飾住自己的感情。然而，英格裏桑太太仿佛什麽異常的情況都沒有發現。我所記得的她昔日的那種多才善辯，經過這麽些年來，依然不減當年，她滔滔不絶地說個不停，談的話題主要是由她組織的、不久就要舉行的義賣。她偶爾嚮她丈夫查問一下日子或日期方面的問題。他那殷勤小心的態度舉上從不改變。打從一開始，我就厭惡他，這一想法在我腦子裏一直根深蒂固，而且我自以為我的第一個印象通常都是相當準確的。
過了一會，英格裏桑太太轉嚮了伊夫琳·霍華德，對一些有關信件方面的事情吩咐了幾句，於是她的文夫用他那煞費苦心的聲音和我聊開了：
“你的固定職業就是軍人嗎，哈斯丁先生？”
“不，戰前我在勞埃德商船協會。”
“戰爭結束後你還决定回去嗎？”
“也許是。不外乎回那兒或者是找個新工作。”
瑪麗·卡文迪什嚮前探過身來。
“要是你衹是從你的愛好考慮的話，你願意真正選擇一個怎樣的職業呢？”
“這個，那要看情況了。”
“沒有秘密的癖好吧？”她問道。“告訴我——你被什麽東西吸引來着？每個人通常都被某種可笑的東西吸引着的。”
“你會笑話我的。”
她笑了。
“也許是這樣。”
“好吧，我一直暗地裏渴望成為一個偵探！”
“真不賴——英格蘭場④？還是謝洛剋·福爾摩斯⑤呢？”
“噢，爭取成為謝洛剋·福爾摩斯。不過，事實上，認真說，我對此非常嚮往。我有一次在比利時遇到過一個人，是一位非常著名的偵探，是他激起了我對這一事業的熱情。他是一個不可思議的小個子。他常說，一切優秀的偵探工作僅僅是一個方法問題。我的體係就是以他的這一說法為基礎的——當然，雖然我已經有了更進一步的發展。他是個非常風趣的小個子，一個衣着時髦的，但是驚人地機敏。”
“我也喜歡優秀的偵探小說，”霍華德小姐議論說，“不過，總是寫了那麽多鬍說八道的東西。到最後一章揭露了罪犯，弄得每個人都目瞪口呆。可是真正的犯罪行為——是很快就能發現的。”
“還有大量的犯罪行為沒有被發現哩，”我表示不贊同。
“不是指警方，而是那些當事人。傢裏人。你沒法真正能瞞過他們。他們一定會知道。”
“那麽，”我十分感興趣他說，“你認為假如你和一樁罪行，譬如說謀殺，牽連上的話，你一定能立刻認出罪犯的羅？”
“當然能認出。也許我不會去嚮一大群司法人員證實這一點，可是我確信我一定知道，如果他走近我，我憑手指尖就能感覺到。”
“也許是‘她’呢，”我提醒說。
“也許是。可是謀殺是一種暴力犯罪。幹這的多半是男人。”
“放毒案就不是這樣，”卡文迪什太太那清晰的嗓音使我大吃一驚。“鮑斯但醫生昨天說過，由於醫學界對多數罕有的毒藥普遍無知，這就有可能使無數的放毒案完全不受懷疑。”，。
“唷，瑪麗，你說得多可怕呀！”英格裏桑太大喊了起來。“害得我都覺得毛骨悚然了。噢，辛西婭來了！”
一個穿着愛國護士會的年輕姑娘飄然地穿過草坪跑了過來。
“哦，辛西婭，你今天來晚了。這位是哈斯丁先生——這是穆多契小姐。”
辛西婭·穆多契小姐是個體格健美的年輕姑娘，充滿生氣和活力。她敏捷地摘下小小的護士帽，那一頭疏鬆的慄色捲發真使我驚嘆不已。她伸出一隻又白又嫩的小手，接過了茶懷，要是再有烏黑的眼睛和睫毛，那就真是一個美人兒了。
她一下在約翰旁邊的草地上坐了下來，當我把一盤三明冶朝她遞過去時，她朝我笑了笑。
“來，坐到草地上來吧，這要舒服多了。”
我順從地坐了下去。
“你是在塔明斯特工作嗎，穆多契小姐？”
她點點頭。
“活受罪。”
“怎麽，他們欺負你了？”我笑着問道。
“我倒喜歡看到他們那樣！”辛西婭神氣十足地喊了起來。
“我有一個堂妹就是做護士的，”我說，“她也對那些‘修女們’⑥嚇得要命。”
“這不奇怪。你知道，哈斯丁先生，護上長就是那樣。她們的確是那樣！你不知道！謝天謝地，我可不是護士，我在藥房工作。”
“你毒死過多少人呀？”我笑着問道。
辛西姬也笑了起來。
“啊，好幾百了！”她說。
“辛西婭，”英格裏桑太太叫道，“你能給我寫幾封短信嗎？”
“當然可以，埃來莉阿姨。”
她敏捷地一躍而起，她的一舉一動中的某些東西，使我想到，她完全處於一個從屬的地位；英格裏桑太太總的來說可算是仁慈的，但她也不讓她忘掉這一點。
我的女主人轉嚮我。
“約翰會帶你去你的房間。七點半吃晚飯。我們現在有時候已經不吃晚正餐了。塔明斯特夫人，就是我們的議員的太太——她是已故的阿博茨布雷勳爵的女兒——也是這樣。她贊同我的意見，一個人必須成為節約的榜樣。我們完全稱得上是個戰時家庭了；我們這兒一點東西都不浪費——即便是一小片廢紙都要積起來，用麻袋裝走。”
我表達了我的敬賞之意，接着約翰就帶我進屋，上了樓梯，樓梯在半路上左右分開，通嚮這幢房子的兩廂。我的房間在左側，朝着庭園。
約翰走了，幾分鐘後，我從窗口看到他和辛西婭手輓手慢慢地從草坪上走了過去。接着，我聽到了英格裏桑大太急切地叫着“辛西婭”的聲音，姑娘吃了一驚，立刻朝房子跑回去了。就在這時候，有個男人從樹蔭中踱了出來，慢慢地朝同一個方向走去。他看上去四十歲上下，皮膚黝黑，臉颳得光光的，表情憂鬱，似乎正被一種強烈的感情所控製。當他經過我的窗下時，朝上看了看。啊，我認出了他，雖然從我們最後一次見面以來，在已經逝去的十五個年頭中，他有了很大的變化。這是約翰的弟弟勞倫斯·卡文迪什。我感到納悶，他臉上為什麽會帶上那樣異常的表情。
後來，我就沒有再會想他，回頭考慮我自己的事情了。
這天傍晚過得十分愉快，晚上，我夢見了那個不可思議的女人——瑪麗·卡文迪什。
第二天早晨，陽光燦爛，我滿心期待着一次令人高興的出遊。
一直到吃中飯的時候，我纔見到卡文迪什太太。她主動提出陪我去散步，於是我們在林子裏漫遊，度過了一個令人陶醉的下午，回傢時已是五點左右。
我們一進門廳，約翰就招呼我們倆到吸煙室丟。從他臉上，我立刻看出一定出了什麽亂子了。我們跟着他走進房間，等我們進去後，他關上了門。
“喂！瑪麗，鬧得一塌糊塗。伊維和阿弗雷德大吵了一場，她要走了。”
“伊維？要走？”
約翰陰鬱地點點頭。
“是的。現在她上母親那兒丟了——哦，伊維來了。”
霍華德小姐走了進來。她冷冷地抿着嘴，手裏拎着一隻小提箱，看上去既激動又堅决，有點兒處於守勢。
“不管怎麽樣，”她大聲嚷道，“我已說出了我的想法！”
“親愛的伊維，”卡文迪什太太說，“是真的？”
霍華德小姐冷冷地點點頭。
千真萬確！我對埃米莉說了一些事，恐怕她是不會忘記或者馬上原諒我了。不管這些話是否衹聽進去了一點點，即使說了也可能是白說，我還是照直對她說了：“你是個上了年歲的老太太了，埃米莉，再沒有一個人會象個老傻瓜一般傻的了。那男人比你年輕二十歲哩。別欺騙自己了，她娶你是為了什麽？錢！行了，別給他那麽多錢。那個農場主雷剋斯可有個非常年輕美貌的老婆。你衹要問問你的阿弗雷德看，他在那兒消磨掉多少時間。’她氣壞了。傻瓜！可我還是說下去：‘我這是給你提出忠告，不管你愛聽還是不愛聽。那個男人看到你恨不得把你謀殺在你床上哩。他是一個壞蛋。你愛跟我怎麽說就怎麽說吧，但是請你記住我對你說過的話。他是一個壞蛋！’”
“她怎麽說？”
霍華德小姐作了一個意味深長的怪相。
“什麽‘親愛的阿弗雷德’——還有‘最親愛的阿弗雷德’——說什麽這是‘惡意的誹謗’啦——‘無恥的謊言’啦——是‘刻毒的女人’——誣告她的‘親愛的丈夫’！我還是早點離開她的傢好。所以我這就走。”
“不是現在吧？”
“現在就走！”
我們坐在那兒盯着她看了一會。後來，約翰·卡文迪什發現他的勸說全然無濟幹事，就去查看火車時刻。跟着，他的妻子也走了，她嘴裏咕噥着什麽，大意是得勸英格裏桑太太最好對此多想想。
她一離開房間，霍華德小姐的臉色就變了。她急切地朝我湊了過來。
“哈斯丁先生，你是一位正直的人。我可以信托你麽？”
我微微一驚。她把一隻手放到我的胳臂上，放低聲音輕輕說：
“哈斯丁先生，請你對她多加照顧吧，我那可憐的埃米莉。他們是一夥騙子——所有人全是。哦，我知道我在說些什麽。他們當中沒有一個人不手頭拮据，衹想千方百計地從她那兒搞走錢。我已盡我所能地保護了她。現在，我讓開了路，他們可以乘機欺弄她了。”
“當然，霍華德小姐，”我說道，“我將盡力而為，不過我認為你太激動了，也太過慮了。”
她緩緩接着一個食指打斷了我的話。
“年輕人，相信我，我在這世界上好歹總算比你多活幾年。我衹要求你睜大眼睛時刻提防就是了。你會懂得我說這話的意思的。”
從打開的窗戶外傳來了汽車的震顛聲，霍華德小姐站起身來，朝門口定去。外面響起約翰的聲音，她一隻字握着門把，扭過頭來對我打了個招呼。
“主要的，哈斯丁先生，是要註意那個惡棍——她的文夫！”
沒有時間再多說什麽了。霍華德小姐已被淹沒在一片熱切的勸她別走的說話聲和道別聲中。英格裏桑夫婦沒有露面。
汽車剛一開走，卡文迪什太太就突然離開大傢，穿過車道，往草坪那邊嚮一個正朝這幢房子走來的蓄着鬍子的高個子男人走了過去。當她對他伸出手去的時候，她的雙頰泛起了兩朵紅暈。
“那是誰？”我銳聲問道，因為我對此人有一種出於本能的懷疑。
“那是鮑斯坦醫生。”約翰簡單地回答說。
“鮑斯坦醫生是誰？”
“他患過嚴重的神經衰弱癥，現在正待在這個村子裏進行安靜療法。他是倫敦的一位專傢。我認為，是個很有才幹的人——當今最出色的毒物學專傢之一。”
“他是瑪麗的要好朋友，”辛西婭忍不住插嘴說。
約翰·卡文迪什皺起了眉頭，改變了話題。
“去散個步吧，哈斯丁。這是件糟糕透頂的事。她說話老是那麽祖魯，可是在英國沒有比伊夫琳·霍華德這樣更忠實可靠的朋友了。”
他帶我走上種植園中間的小徑，穿過在莊園一側的林子，朝村子踱去。
當我們在回傢的路上，再次穿過一座大門時，一個從對面過來的吉普賽型的漂亮年輕女人，微笑着嚮我們點頭問好。
“是個漂亮姑娘，”我以鑒賞的口吻說。
約翰的臉色沉了下來。
“這是雷剋斯太太。”
“就是霍華德小姐說的那個——”
“一點不差。”約翰說，帶着一種毫無必要的粗魯口吻。
我想起了大房子裏的那位白發蒼蒼的老太太，以及方纔對我們微笑來着的那張活潑淘氣的小臉蛋，一種模模糊糊的預感象一陣寒風使得我全身毛骨悚然。我把它撇到了一邊。
“斯泰爾斯真是一座光榮的古老邸宅。”我對約翰說。
約翰優鬱地點點頭。
“是呀，是一宗好資財啊。它將來總有一天會是我的——要是我父親立下的是一份象樣的遺囑的話，按理現在就應該是我的了。而且。那樣我手頭也不會象現在這樣拮据得要命了。”
“手頭拮据，你？”，
“親愛的哈斯丁，我不想告訴你，我為了搞錢真是智窮計盡了啊。”
“你弟弟不能助你一臂之力麽？”
“勞倫斯？他用新奇花樣的裝幀印刷那些亂七八糟的詩，把他有的每一分錢都花光了。不，我們都是窮光蛋。
我必須說，我母親一直來對我們還是很好的。這是說，到現在為止。當然，打她結婚以後——”他突然停住了，皺起了眉頭。
我第一次感到，隨着伊夫琳·霍華德的離去，某種難以確切表達的東西也從這環境中消失了。她的存在使安全有了保證。而現在，安全已經失去——空氣中似乎都充滿了猜疑。鮑斯坦醫生那張陰險的臉又在我的眼前出現了，使我感到不快。我的腦子裏充滿了對每個人每件事的模模糊糊的懷疑。一時之間，我有了一種快要出事的預感。
註釋：
①英格蘭東海岸一郡。
②語處英國劇作傢誇爾的喜劇（The Beaux Stratagem）中人物名。
③即伊夫琳的呢稱。
④指倫敦廳，此處意為公傢偵探。
⑤福爾摩斯為私傢偵探。
⑥護士長。
I will therefore briefly set down the circumstances which led to my being connected with the affair.
I had been invalided home from the Front; and, after spending some months in a rather depressing Convalescent Home, was given a month's sick leave. Having no near relations or friends, I was trying to make up my mind what to do, when I ran across John Cavendish. I had seen very little of him for some years. Indeed, I had never known him particularly well. He was a good fifteen years my senior, for one thing, though he hardly looked his forty-five years. As a boy, though, I had often stayed at Styles, his mother's place in Essex.
We had a good yarn about old times, and it ended in his inviting me down to Styles to spend my leave there.
"The mater will be delighted to see you again--after all those years," he added.
"Your mother keeps well?" I asked.
"Oh, yes. I suppose you know that she has married again?"
I am afraid I showed my surprise rather plainly. Mrs. Cavendish, who had married John's father when he was a widower with two sons, had been a handsome woman of middle-age as I remembered her. She certainly could not be a day less than seventy now. I recalled her as an energetic, autocratic personality, somewhat inclined to charitable and social notoriety, with a fondness for opening bazaars and playing the Lady Bountiful. She was a most generous woman, and possessed a considerable fortune of her own.
Their country-place, Styles Court, had been purchased by Mr. Cavendish early in their married life. He had been completely under his wife's ascendancy, so much so that, on dying, he left the place to her for her lifetime, as well as the larger part of his income; an arrangement that was distinctly unfair to his two sons. Their step-mother, however, had always been most generous to them; indeed, they were so young at the time of their father's remarriage that they always thought of her as their own mother.
Lawrence, the younger, had been a delicate youth. He had qualified as a doctor but early relinquished the profession of medicine, and lived at home while pursuing literary ambitions; though his verses never had any marked success.
John practiced for some time as a barrister, but had finally settled down to the more congenial life of a country squire. He had married two years ago, and had taken his wife to live at Styles, though I entertained a shrewd suspicion that he would have preferred his mother to increase his allowance, which would have enabled him to have a home of his own. Mrs. Cavendish, however, was a lady who liked to make her own plans, and expected other people to fall in with them, and in this case she certainly had the whip hand, namely: the purse strings.
John noticed my surprise at the news of his mother's remarriage and smiled rather ruefully.
"Rotten little bounder too!" he said savagely. "I can tell you, Hastings, it's making life jolly difficult for us. As for Evie--you remember Evie?"
"No."
"Oh, I suppose she was after your time. She's the mater's factotum, companion, Jack of all trades! A great sport--old Evie! Not precisely young and beautiful, but as game as they make them."
"You were going to say----?"
"Oh, this fellow! He turned up from nowhere, on the pretext of being a second cousin or something of Evie's, though she didn't seem particularly keen to acknowledge the relationship. The fellow is an absolute outsider, anyone can see that. He's got a great black beard, and wears patent leather boots in all weathers! But the mater cottoned to him at once, took him on as secretary--you know how she's always running a hundred societies?"
I nodded.
"Well, of course the war has turned the hundreds into thousands. No doubt the fellow was very useful to her. But you could have knocked us all down with a feather when, three months ago, she suddenly announced that she and Alfred were engaged! The fellow must be at least twenty years younger than she is! It's simply bare-faced fortune hunting; but there you are--she is her own mistress, and she's married him."
"It must be a difficult situation for you all."
"Difficult! It's damnable!"
Thus it came about that, three days later, I descended from the train at Styles St. Mary, an absurd little station, with no apparent reason for existence, perched up in the midst of green fields and country lanes. John Cavendish was waiting on the platform, and piloted me out to the car.
"Got a drop or two of petrol still, you see," he remarked. "Mainly owing to the mater's activities."
The village of Styles St. Mary was situated about two miles from the little station, and Styles Court lay a mile the other side of it. It was a still, warm day in early July. As one looked out over the flat Essex country, lying so green and peaceful under the afternoon sun, it seemed almost impossible to believe that, not so very far away, a great war was running its appointed course. I felt I had suddenly strayed into another world. As we turned in at the lodge gates, John said:
"I'm afraid you'll find it very quiet down here, Hastings."
"My dear fellow, that's just what I want."
"Oh, it's pleasant enough if you want to lead the idle life. I drill with the volunteers twice a week, and lend a hand at the farms. My wife works regularly 'on the land'. She is up at five every morning to milk, and keeps at it steadily until lunchtime. It's a jolly good life taking it all round--if it weren't for that fellow Alfred Inglethorp!" He checked the car suddenly, and glanced at his watch. "I wonder if we've time to pick up Cynthia. No, she'll have started from the hospital by now."
"Cynthia! That's not your wife?"
"No, Cynthia is a protegee of my mother's, the daughter of an old schoolfellow of hers, who married a rascally solicitor. He came a cropper, and the girl was left an orphan and penniless. My mother came to the rescue, and Cynthia has been with us nearly two years now. She works in the Red Cross Hospital at Tadminster, seven miles away."
As he spoke the last words, we drew up in front of the fine old house. A lady in a stout tweed skirt, who was bending over a flower bed, straightened herself at our approach.
"Hullo, Evie, here's our wounded hero! Mr. Hastings--Miss Howard."
Miss Howard shook hands with a hearty, almost painful, grip. I had an impression of very blue eyes in a sunburnt face. She was a pleasant-looking woman of about forty, with a deep voice, almost manly in its stentorian tones, and had a large sensible square body, with feet to match--these last encased in good thick boots. Her conversation, I soon found, was couched in the telegraphic style.
"Weeds grow like house afire. Can't keep even with 'em. Shall press you in. Better be careful."
"I'm sure I shall be only too delighted to make myself useful," I responded.
"Don't say it. Never does. Wish you hadn't later."
"You're a cynic, Evie," said John, laughing. "Where's tea to-day--inside or out?"
"Out. Too fine a day to be cooped up in the house."
"Come on then, you've done enough gardening for to-day. 'The labourer is worthy of his hire', you know. Come and be refreshed."
"Well," said Miss Howard, drawing off her gardening gloves, "I'm inclined to agree with you."
She led the way round the house to where tea was spread under the shade of a large sycamore.
A figure rose from one of the basket chairs, and came a few steps to meet us.
"My wife, Hastings," said John.
I shall never forget my first sight of Mary Cavendish. Her tall, slender form, outlined against the bright light; the vivid sense of slumbering fire that seemed to find expression only in those wonderful tawny eyes of hers, remarkable eyes, different from any other woman's that I have ever known; the intense power of stillness she possessed, which nevertheless conveyed the impression of a wild untamed spirit in an exquisitely civilised body--all these things are burnt into my memory. I shall never forget them.
She greeted me with a few words of pleasant welcome in a low clear voice, and I sank into a basket chair feeling distinctly glad that I had accepted John's invitation. Mrs. Cavendish gave me some tea, and her few quiet remarks heightened my first impression of her as a thoroughly fascinating woman. An appreciative listener is always stimulating, and I described, in a humorous manner, certain incidents of my Convalescent Home, in a way which, I flatter myself, greatly amused my hostess. John, of course, good fellow though he is, could hardly be called a brilliant conversationalist.
At that moment a well remembered voice floated through the open French window near at hand:
"Then you'll write to the Princess after tea, Alfred? I'll write to Lady Tadminster for the second day, myself. Or shall we wait until we hear from the Princess? In case of a refusal, Lady Tadminster might open it the first day, and Mrs. Crosbie the second. Then there's the Duchess--about the school fete."
There was the murmur of a man's voice, and then Mrs. Inglethorp's rose in reply:
"Yes, certainly. After tea will do quite well. You are so thoughtful, Alfred dear."
The French window swung open a little wider, and a handsome white-haired old lady, with a somewhat masterful cast of features, stepped out of it on to the lawn. A man followed her, a suggestion of deference in his manner.
Mrs. Inglethorp greeted me with effusion.
"Why, if it isn't too delightful to see you again, Mr. Hastings, after all these years. Alfred, darling, Mr. Hastings--my husband."
I looked with some curiosity at "Alfred darling". He certainly struck a rather alien note. I did not wonder at John objecting to his beard. It was one of the longest and blackest I have ever seen. He wore gold-rimmed pince-nez, and had a curious impassivity of feature. It struck me that he might look natural on a stage, but was strangely out of place in real life. His voice was rather deep and unctuous. He placed a wooden hand in mine and said:
"This is a pleasure, Mr. Hastings." Then, turning to his wife: "Emily dearest, I think that cushion is a little damp."
She beamed fondly on him, as he substituted another with every demonstration of the tenderest care. Strange infatuation of an otherwise sensible woman!
With the presence of Mr. Inglethorp, a sense of constraint and veiled hostility seemed to settle down upon the company. Miss Howard, in particular, took no pains to conceal her feelings. Mrs. Inglethorp, however, seemed to notice nothing unusual. Her volubility, which I remembered of old, had lost nothing in the intervening years, and she poured out a steady flood of conversation, mainly on the subject of the forthcoming bazaar which she was organizing and which was to take place shortly. Occasionally she referred to her husband over a question of days or dates. His watchful and attentive manner never varied. From the very first I took a firm and rooted dislike to him, and I flatter myself that my first judgments are usually fairly shrewd.
Presently Mrs. Inglethorp turned to give some instructions about letters to Evelyn Howard, and her husband addressed me in his painstaking voice:
"Is soldiering your regular profession, Mr. Hastings?"
"No, before the war I was in Lloyd's."
"And you will return there after it is over?"
"Perhaps. Either that or a fresh start altogether."
Mary Cavendish leant forward.
"What would you really choose as a profession, if you could just consult your inclination?"
"Well, that depends."
"No secret hobby?" she asked. "Tell me--you're drawn to something? Every one is--usually something absurd."
"You'll laugh at me."
She smiled.
"Perhaps."
"Well, I've always had a secret hankering to be a detective!"
"The real thing--Scotland Yard? Or Sherlock Holmes?"
"Oh, Sherlock Holmes by all means. But really, seriously, I am awfully drawn to it. I came across a man in Belgium once, a very famous detective, and he quite inflamed me. He was a marvellous little fellow. He used to say that all good detective work was a mere matter of method. My system is based on his--though of course I have progressed rather further. He was a funny little man, a great dandy, but wonderfully clever."
"Like a good detective story myself," remarked Miss Howard. "Lots of nonsense written, though. Criminal discovered in last chapter. Every one dumbfounded. Real crime--you'd know at once."
"There have been a great number of undiscovered crimes," I argued.
"Don't mean the police, but the people that are right in it. The family. You couldn't really hoodwink them. They'd know."
"Then," I said, much amused, "you think that if you were mixed up in a crime, say a murder, you'd be able to spot the murderer right off?"
"Of course I should. Mightn't be able to prove it to a pack of lawyers. But I'm certain I'd know. I'd feel it in my fingertips if he came near me."
"It might be a 'she,' " I suggested.
"Might. But murder's a violent crime. Associate it more with a man."
"Not in a case of poisoning." Mrs. Cavendish's clear voice startled me. "Dr. Bauerstein was saying yesterday that, owing to the general ignorance of the more uncommon poisons among the medical profession, there were probably countless cases of poisoning quite unsuspected."
"Why, Mary, what a gruesome conversation!" cried Mrs. Inglethorp. "It makes me feel as if a goose were walking over my grave. Oh, there's Cynthia!"
A young girl in V. A. D. uniform ran lightly across the lawn.
"Why, Cynthia, you are late to-day. This is Mr. Hastings--Miss Murdoch."
Cynthia Murdoch was a fresh-looking young creature, full of life and vigour. She tossed off her little V. A. D. cap, and I admired the great loose waves of her auburn hair, and the smallness and whiteness of the hand she held out to claim her tea. With dark eyes and eyelashes she would have been a beauty.
She flung herself down on the ground beside John, and as I handed her a plate of sandwiches she smiled up at me.
"Sit down here on the grass, do. It's ever so much nicer."
I dropped down obediently.
"You work at Tadminster, don't you, Miss Murdoch?"
She nodded.
"For my sins."
"Do they bully you, then?" I asked, smiling.
"I should like to see them!" cried Cynthia with dignity.
"I have got a cousin who is nursing," I remarked. "And she is terrified of 'Sisters'."
"I don't wonder. Sisters _are_, you know, Mr. Hastings. They simp--ly _are_! You've no idea! But I'm not a nurse, thank heaven, I work in the dispensary."
"How many people do you poison?" I asked, smiling.
Cynthia smiled too.
"Oh, hundreds!" she said.
"Cynthia," called Mrs. Inglethorp, "do you think you could write a few notes for me?"
"Certainly, Aunt Emily."
She jumped up promptly, and something in her manner reminded me that her position was a dependent one, and that Mrs. Inglethorp, kind as she might be in the main, did not allow her to forget it.
My hostess turned to me.
"John will show you your room. Supper is at half-past seven. We have given up late dinner for some time now. Lady Tadminster, our Member's wife--she was the late Lord Abbotsbury's daughter--does the same. She agrees with me that one must set an example of economy. We are quite a war household; nothing is wasted here--every scrap of waste paper, even, is saved and sent away in sacks."
I expressed my appreciation, and John took me into the house and up the broad staircase, which forked right and left half-way to different wings of the building. My room was in the left wing, and looked out over the park.
John left me, and a few minutes later I saw him from my window walking slowly across the grass arm in arm with Cynthia Murdoch. I heard Mrs. Inglethorp call "Cynthia" impatiently, and the girl started and ran back to the house. At the same moment, a man stepped out from the shadow of a tree and walked slowly in the same direction. He looked about forty, very dark with a melancholy clean-shaven face. Some violent emotion seemed to be mastering him. He looked up at my window as he passed, and I recognized him, though he had changed much in the fifteen years that had elapsed since we last met. It was John's younger brother, Lawrence Cavendish. I wondered what it was that had brought that singular expression to his face.
Then I dismissed him from my mind, and returned to the contemplation of my own affairs.
The evening passed pleasantly enough; and I dreamed that night of that enigmatical woman, Mary Cavendish.
The next morning dawned bright and sunny, and I was full of the anticipation of a delightful visit.
I did not see Mrs. Cavendish until lunch-time, when she volunteered to take me for a walk, and we spent a charming afternoon roaming in the woods, returning to the house about five.
As we entered the large hall, John beckoned us both into the smoking-room. I saw at once by his face that something disturbing had occurred. We followed him in, and he shut the door after us.
"Look here, Mary, there's the deuce of a mess. Evie's had a row with Alfred Inglethorp, and she's off."
"Evie? Off?"
John nodded gloomily.
"Yes; you see she went to the mater, and--Oh, here's Evie herself."
Miss Howard entered. Her lips were set grimly together, and she carried a small suit-case. She looked excited and determined, and slightly on the defensive.
"At any rate," she burst out, "I've spoken my mind!"
"My dear Evelyn," cried Mrs. Cavendish, "this can't be true!"
Miss Howard nodded grimly.
"True enough! Afraid I said some things to Emily she won't forget or forgive in a hurry. Don't mind if they've only sunk in a bit. Probably water off a duck's back, though. I said right out: 'You're an old woman, Emily, and there's no fool like an old fool. The man's twenty years younger than you, and don't you fool yourself as to what he married you for. Money! Well, don't let him have too much of it. Farmer Raikes has got a very pretty young wife. Just ask your Alfred how much time he spends over there.' She was very angry. Natural! I went on, 'I'm going to warn you, whether you like it or not. That man would as soon murder you in your bed as look at you. He's a bad lot. You can say what you like to me, but remember what I've told you. He's a bad lot!' "
"What did she say?"
Miss Howard made an extremely expressive grimace.
" 'Darling Alfred'--'dearest Alfred'--'wicked calumnies' --'wicked lies'--'wicked woman'--to accuse her 'dear husband'! The sooner I left her house the better. So I'm off."
"But not now?"
"This minute!"
For a moment we sat and stared at her. Finally John Cavendish, finding his persuasions of no avail, went off to look up the trains. His wife followed him, murmuring something about persuading Mrs. Inglethorp to think better of it.
As she left the room, Miss Howard's face changed. She leant towards me eagerly.
"Mr. Hastings, you're honest. I can trust you?"
I was a little startled. She laid her hand on my arm, and sank her voice to a whisper.
"Look after her, Mr. Hastings. My poor Emily. They're a lot of sharks--all of them. Oh, I know what I'm talking about. There isn't one of them that's not hard up and trying to get money out of her. I've protected her as much as I could. Now I'm out of the way, they'll impose upon her."
"Of course, Miss Howard," I said, "I'll do everything I can, but I'm sure you're excited and overwrought."
She interrupted me by slowly shaking her forefinger.
"Young man, trust me. I've lived in the world rather longer than you have. All I ask you is to keep your eyes open. You'll see what I mean."
The throb of the motor came through the open window, and Miss Howard rose and moved to the door. John's voice sounded outside. With her hand on the handle, she turned her head over her shoulder, and beckoned to me.
"Above all, Mr. Hastings, watch that devil--her husband!"
There was no time for more. Miss Howard was swallowed up in an eager chorus of protests and good-byes. The Inglethorps did not appear.
As the motor drove away, Mrs. Cavendish suddenly detached herself from the group, and moved across the drive to the lawn to meet a tall bearded man who had been evidently making for the house. The colour rose in her cheeks as she held out her hand to him.
"Who is that?" I asked sharply, for instinctively I distrusted the man.
"That's Dr. Bauerstein," said John shortly.
"And who is Dr. Bauerstein?"
"He's staying in the village doing a rest cure, after a bad nervous breakdown. He's a London specialist; a very clever man--one of the greatest living experts on poisons, I believe."
"And he's a great friend of Mary's," put in Cynthia, the irrepressible.
John Cavendish frowned and changed the subject.
"Come for a stroll, Hastings. This has been a most rotten business. She always had a rough tongue, but there is no stauncher friend in England than Evelyn Howard."
He took the path through the plantation, and we walked down to the village through the woods which bordered one side of the estate.
As we passed through one of the gates on our way home again, a pretty young woman of gipsy type coming in the opposite direction bowed and smiled.
"That's a pretty girl," I remarked appreciatively.
John's face hardened.
"That is Mrs. Raikes."
"The one that Miss Howard----"
"Exactly," said John, with rather unnecessary abruptness.
I thought of the white-haired old lady in the big house, and that vivid wicked little face that had just smiled into ours, and a vague chill of foreboding crept over me. I brushed it aside.
"Styles is really a glorious old place," I said to John.
He nodded rather gloomily.
"Yes, it's a fine property. It'll be mine some day--should be mine now by rights, if my father had only made a decent will. And then I shouldn't be so damned hard up as I am now."
"Hard up, are you?"
"My dear Hastings, I don't mind telling you that I'm at my wit's end for money."
"Couldn't your brother help you?"
"Lawrence? He's gone through every penny he ever had, publishing rotten verses in fancy bindings. No, we're an impecunious lot. My mother's always been awfully good to us, I must say. That is, up to now. Since her marriage, of course----" he broke off, frowning.
For the first time I felt that, with Evelyn Howard, something indefinable had gone from the atmosphere. Her presence had spelt security. Now that security was removed--and the air seemed rife with suspicion. The sinister face of Dr. Bauerstein recurred to me unpleasantly. A vague suspicion of every one and everything filled my mind. Just for a moment I had a premonition of approaching evil.
我是七月五日到達斯泰爾斯的。現在我要說的是那個月十六日和十七日的事。為了讓讀者方便，我將盡可能精確無誤地把這幾天來的事情扼要地重述一下。這些事情後來經過一係列冗長乏味的盤問纔審訊清楚。
伊夫琳·霍華德走後兩三天，我收到了她的一封信，信上告訴我，她已在米德林海姆的一傢大醫院裏做護士，該地離這兒有十五、六英裏，是個工業小城。她懇求我，要是英格裏桑太太表示出有同她和好的願望的話，就讓她知道。
在我的寧靜的日子裏，唯一的美中不足是卡文迪什太太在和鮑斯坦醫生的交往中那種特殊的、對我來說是不可理解的偏愛。她到底着中此人的哪一點，我沒法想象，可是她老是邀請他到傢裏來，經常和他一塊兒出去作長時間的旅遊。我必須承認，我實在看不出他的吸引力究竟在哪裏。
七月十六日是星期一，這一天整天亂糟糟的。一次著名的義賣已在上一個星期六開幕。這天晚上要舉行一次和同一賑濟有關的文娛晚會，英格裏桑太太要在會上朗誦一首戰爭詩。上於我們大夥都忙着整理和佈置開晚會的村子禮堂。中飯吃得很遲，下午就在花園裏休息。我發覺約翰的神態有點異常。他好象十分焦躁不安。
喝好茶，英格裏桑太大會躺下休息了，晚上她還得努力一番。而我則嚮瑪麗·卡文迪什挑戰，要和她作一次網球單打比賽。
六點三刻左右，英格裏桑太太叫喚我們，說是我們要遲到了，因為這天的晚飯要提早。為了能及時準備好，我們衹好草草收兵。晚飯還沒吃完，汽車已經等在門口了。
晚會開得很成功。英格裏桑太大的朗誦博得了一片熱烈的掌聲。還表演了一些舞臺造型，辛西婭也在其中扮演了角色。她沒有和我們一起回傢，應邀參加一個晚餐會去了，這大晚上，她和那些和她一起演出的朋友在一起。
第二天早上，英格裏桑太太是在床上吃的早飯，她有點疲勞過度了，但是，十二點半左右，她精神抖擻地出現了，硬要帶勞倫斯和我也一起去參加一次午餐會。
“你知道，這是羅雷斯頓太太的盛情邀請，她就是塔明斯特夫人的妹妹。羅雷斯頓傢和徵服者①一起來到這兒，是我國最古老的傢族之一。”
瑪麗托詞和鮑斯但有約在先，為自己不能同往表示了歉意。
我們吃了一頓非常適意的中飯，而當我們驅車離開時，勞倫斯提議，我們應該經由塔明斯特回來，那兒衹離我們走的公路一英裏，到辛西婭的藥房去看看她。英格裏桑太太回答說這是個好主意，可是由於她有幾封信要寫，她得把我們丟在那兒，我們可以和辛西婭一起乘輕便馬車回來。
我們由於受到懷疑，一直被醫院的看門人阻留着，直到辛西婭出來為我們證明纔讓進去。她穿着件白色的長外套，看上去既沉靜又溫柔。她帶我們來到她的工作室，把我們介紹給和她一起的那位藥劑師，一個有點使人害怕的人，辛西婭輕鬆地把他叫做“尼布斯”。
“瓶子真多！”當我的眼睛朝這個小小的房間巡視了一圈後，我驚呼說。“你真的都知道所有的瓶子裏是什麽嗎？”
“說起來真怪，”辛西婭嘆了口氣說。“每個到這兒來的人都這麽說。我們真想給第一個不講‘瓶子真多’的人發筆奬金，我知道，你接下去打算問的一句話就是：‘你毒死多少人了呀？’”
我微笑着，感到很內疚。
“要是你們知道錯毒死一個人是多麽容易，你就不會說這樣的笑話了。得啦！我們喝茶吧。那衹櫥裏的各種內情我們都已掌握了。不，勞倫斯——那是毒藥櫥，是那衹大櫥子——對了。”
我們高高興興地喝了茶。後來還幫辛西婭洗了茶具。正當我們放好最後一隻茶匙時，門外傳來了一陣敲門聲。
辛西婭和尼布斯突然板起了臉孔，露出了嚴肅的神情。
“進來，”辛西婭說，帶着一種明顯的職業性的語氣。
一個顯得有點驚慌模樣的年輕護士，拿着一隻瓶子出現了，她把瓶子遞給了尼布斯，他示意她交給辛西婭，還說了句有點莫明其妙的話：
“今天我不是真正在這兒。”
辛西婭接過瓶子，象個法官一樣嚴格地把它檢查了一番。
“這應該是今天上午來領的。”
“護士長說很對不起。她忘了。”
“護士長應該來讀讀門外的規定。”
我從小護士的神色上猜出，她是不可能有這種膽量把這一口信帶給那位使人害伯的“修女”的。
“這可得到明天才能領了。”
“你看今天晚上是不是有可能給我們？”
“好吧，”辛西婭寬厚地說。“我們很忙，不過，如果有時間的話，我們就裝一裝。”
小護士退出去了，辛西婭敏捷地從架子上取下一隻大瓶，把那衹瓶子灌滿，然後把它放到門外的桌子上。
我笑了起來。
“紀律必須維持？”
“一點不錯，到我們的小陽臺上去吧。那兒外面的全部病房都能看到。”
我跟着辛西婭和她的朋友走到陽臺上，他們指給我看各個不同的病房。勞倫斯仍留在房裏。可是過了一會，辛西妞扭頭叫了他一聲，要他出來和我們一起來看。後來，她看了看表。
“沒什麽事情了吧，尼布斯？”
“沒有了。”
“好吧。那我們可以鎖門走了。”
那天下午，我對勞倫斯有了完全不同的看法。雖然和約翰相比，他是個使人吃驚地難以瞭解的人，幾乎在每個方面部不同於他的哥哥，十分膽小，沉默寡言，可是，他還是有某些討人喜歡的舉止態度，因而我相信，要是一個人真正對他有很好的瞭解，是一定會深深地喜歡他的。我原來一直認為他對待辛西婭的態度相當不自然，她對他也羞答答。可是那天下午，他們倆都很快活，他們在一起談得很起勁，仿佛象一對孩子。
當我們乘馬車穿過林子時，我想起我要買幾張郵票，於是我們就在郵局門口停了下來。
在我走出郵局時，我和一個正在進來的小個子男人撞了一個滿懷。我急忙退到一邊：嚮他道了歉，可那人突然大聲驚叫了起來，把我緊緊地擁抱住，熱情地吻我。
“親愛的哈斯丁！”他喊道。“真的是親愛的哈斯丁！”
“波洛！”我也喊了起來。
我們回到馬車旁邊。
“這是我一次非常愉快的會見，辛西婭小姐。這位是我的老朋友波洛先生，我已經有好幾年沒有見到他了。”
“噢，我們認識波洛先生，”辛西婭快活地說。“可是我沒有想到他也是你的朋友。”
“不錯，真的，”波洛一本正經地說。“我認識辛西婭小姐，我得以到這兒來是全仗好心的英格裏桑太太的恩賜。”見我好奇地打量着他，他接着說：“是的，我的朋友，她友好地殷勤接待了我們七個同胞，唉，我們這幾個都是從自己的祖國逃亡出來的人啊。我們比利時人將永遠懷着感激的心情把她銘記在心裏。”
波洛是個外表特別的小個子男人，身高衹有五英尺四英寸，可是舉止顯得非常莊重。他的腦袋模樣兒完全象衹雞蛋，而他總愛把它微微側嚮一邊。他的那一抹翹鬍子又硬又挺，象個軍人。他的衣着整潔得簡直不可思議。我相信，在他身上落上一粒灰塵會使他感到比一顆子彈打傷他還要痛苦。這位漂亮的、打扮得象的小個子（看到他現在的精神這樣沮喪，我感到很難過）原來一直是比利時警方最著名的工作人員之一，作為一個偵探，他有着非凡的天才，他曾經成功地偵破過當時的一些最最棘手的案件。
他指給我看了看他和他的比利時同胞棲身的小屋，我答應盡早去看望他。接着，他用一種戲劇性的動作，朝辛西婭揚了揚帽子。於是我們就上車離開了。
“他是個可愛的小個子，”辛西婭說。“我沒有想到你認識他。”
“你們是在不知不覺地接待一位名人，”我回答說。
在回傢的路上，我對他們講述了赫卡爾·波洛的各種功績和成就。
我們懷着歡樂的心情回到傢裏。當我們走進門廳時，英格裏桑太太正從她的閨房②中出來。她看上去有些激動，心煩意亂。
“哦，是你們，”她說。
“出什麽事了嗎，埃米莉阿姨？”辛西婭問道。
“沒有，”英格裏桑太太警覺他說，“會出什麽事呀？”這時她看到女傭人多卡斯走進餐室，就叫她拿點郵票到她房裏去。
“好的，太太。”老女僕躊躇了一下，接着又膽怯地補充說：“大太，您不認為您最好還是上床去躺一會嗎？您看來太疲勞了。”
“你也許說得對，多卡斯——是的——不——現在不行。我還有幾封信，得趕在郵局收信之前寫完。你已經按我告訴過你那樣，在我房裏生了火了嗎？”
“生了，太太。”
“那我吃過晚飯就馬上去睡。”
她又走進自己的房間，辛西婭凝視着她的背影。
“天啊！究竟出了什麽事了？”她對勞倫斯說。
他仿佛沒有聽到她說的話，一聲不吭地轉身走出屋子去了。
我對辛西婭提議，在晚飯前來一場網球快速比賽，她同意了，於是我跑上樓去取球拍。
卡文迪什太太正下樓來。也許是我的一種錯覺，可是她確實顯得有點古怪，心神不定。
“去和鮑斯坦醫生散步了嗎？”我問道，盡可能表現出一種不在乎的樣子。
“沒去，”她倉猝地回答說。“英格裏桑太太在哪兒？”
“在閨房裏。”
她一隻手緊握住欄桿，接着好象鼓起勇氣去完成一件艱險的工作，匆匆地走過我的身旁，下了樓，穿過門廳，朝閨房走去，進去後，關上了身後的房門。
過了一會，我奔嚮網球場，我得從閨房的打開的窗下經過，這時我偶然地聽到了下面這些談話的片斷。瑪麗·卡文迪什以一個死命想控製住自己感情的婦女的聲音在說：
“那你就不能給我看看嗎？”
英格裏桑太太對她回答說：
“親愛的瑪麗，這沒有什麽。”
“那就給我着看。”
“我告訴你了，事情不象你想的那樣。這同你絲毫沒有關係。”
瑪麗·卡文迪什回答說，聲音更加悲哀：
“當然羅，我早就知道你是會襢護他的。”
辛西婭正在等着我，她熱切地迎着我說：
“嗨，大吵過一場啦！我從多卡斯那兒全部打聽到了。”
“誰吵架呀？”
“埃米莉阿姨和他。我真希望她最終會看透他！”
“那麽多卡斯在場嗎？”
“當然不在。衹是碰巧在房門口。這次可真是大破裂了。我真希望能把全部情況着；瞭解個一清二楚。”
我想起了雷剋斯太太那張吉普賽人的臉蛋，以及伊夫琳·霍華德的警告，但是我明智地决心保持沉默，而辛西婭卻千方百計地作了每一種可能的假設，興奮地希望“埃米莉阿姨會把他攆走，會永遠不再和他說話”。
我急於想見到約翰，可是到處都找不到他，顯然，那天下午出了什麽嚴重的事了。我竭力想忘掉我偶爾聽到的那幾句話，可是，不管我怎麽着，我都沒法把它們完全從我的腦子裏抹去。瑪麗·卡文迪什所關心的那件事是什麽呢？
我下樓來吃飯時，英格裏桑先生正坐在客廳裏。他臉上的表情仍象往常一樣冷淡，因而我重又感到此人的令人不快的虛偽。
英格裏桑太太最後一個來，她看上去仍然焦躁不安。
吃飯期間餐桌上有着一種緊張的沉默。英格裏桑異常平靜，象往常一樣，他給他的妻子時而獻一點小殷勤，在她的背後放上一隻背墊什麽的，完全扮演着一個忠實丈夫的角色。飯後，英格裏桑太太立即就回到自己的閨房去了。
“把我的咖啡拿來吧，瑪麗，”她叫喚道。“要趕上郵班，衹有五分鐘了。”
我和辛西婭走到客廳的打開的窗戶跟前，坐了下來。
瑪麗·卡艾迪什給我們送來了咖啡。她顯得有點激動。
“你們年輕人要開燈呢，”還是喜愛朦朧的黃昏？”她問道。“辛西婭，你把英格裏桑太太的咖啡送去好嗎？我來把它斟好。”
“你別麻煩了，瑪麗，”英格裏桑說：“我會給埃米莉送去的。”他斟了一杯咖啡，小心翼翼地端着它走出了房間。
勞倫斯也跟着出去了，於是卡文迪什太太在我們旁邊坐了下來。
我們三人默默地坐了一會。這是個愉快的夜晚，四周一片靜寂，天氣很熱，卡文迪什太太用一把棕櫚葉扇輕輕地扇着涼。
“天氣簡直太熱了，”她低聲哺咕道，“要下雷雨了。””
唉，真是好景不長啊！我的良辰美景突然被門廳裏的一陣熟識的非常討厭的聲音打破了。
“鮑斯坦醫生！”辛西婭驚叫起來。“怪了，怎麽這時候來。”
我偷偷地朝瑪麗·卡文迪什瞥了一眼，可是她似乎十分泰然自若，她雙頰上那嬌白的臉色毫無變化。
過了一會，阿弗雷德·英格裏桑把醫生領進來了。後者大聲笑着，堅决表示他這副樣子去客廳是不適宜的。事實上，他真的出了洋相，他身上沾滿了泥。
“你在忙什麽呀，醫生？”瑪麗·卡文什迪大聲問道。
“我得解釋一下，”醫生說。”我實在不打算進來，可是英格裏桑先生定要我來。”
“哦，跑斯坦，你陷入窘境了。”約翰說着從過道裏踱了進來。“喝點咖啡吧，和我們談談，你在忙點什麽。”
“謝謝，我這就講吧。”他苦笑着說。他說他在一個難攀登的地方發現了一種相當罕見的蕨類植物，而就在他千方百計想把它采到手的時候，他，實在丟人，竟失足掉進了近旁的一口池塘。
“太陽雖然很訣就把我的衣服曬幹了，”他接着說，“可是我怕這一來我的面子都丟光了。”
就在這時候，英格裏桑太太從過道裏叫喚辛西婭了，於是，姑娘就跑出去了。
“請你把我的公文箱拿過來好嗎，親愛的？我打算睡覺了。”
通註過道的門開得很大。當辛西婭在拿箱子的時候，我已經站起身來，約翰就在我旁邊。因此，有三個人可以證明，當時英格裏桑太太還沒喝咖啡，而是正端在手裏。
我的那個傍晚，已被鮑斯坦醫生的出現完全徹底地破壞了。看來此人好象不走了。然而，他終於站了起來，我纔寬慰地舒了一口氣。
“我走着陪你去村子吧，”英格裏桑先生說。”我得去看看我們那個房地産代理人，”他又轉身對着約翰說，“不需要人等我，我帶大門鑰匙去。”
註釋：
①即一零六六年徵服英國的英王威廉一世。
②係婦女的起居室或室。
I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after her departure, telling me she was working as a nurse at the big hospital in Middlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen miles away, and begging me to let her know if Mrs. Inglethorp should show any wish to be reconciled.
The only fly in the ointment of my peaceful days was Mrs. Cavendish's extraordinary, and, for my part, unaccountable preference for the society of Dr. Bauerstein. What she saw in the man I cannot imagine, but she was always asking him up to the house, and often went off for long expeditions with him. I must confess that I was quite unable to see his attraction.
The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. The famous bazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment, in connection with the same charity, at which Mrs. Inglethorp was to recite a War poem, was to be held that night. We were all busy during the morning arranging and decorating the Hall in the village where it was to take place. We had a late luncheon and spent the afternoon resting in the garden. I noticed that John's manner was somewhat unusual. He seemed very excited and restless.
After tea, Mrs. Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before her efforts in the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to a single at tennis.
About a quarter to seven, Mrs. Inglethorp called us that we should be late as supper was early that night. We had rather a scramble to get ready in time; and before the meal was over the motor was waiting at the door.
The entertainment was a great success, Mrs. Inglethorp's recitation receiving tremendous applause. There were also some tableaux in which Cynthia took part. She did not return with us, having been asked to a supper party, and to remain the night with some friends who had been acting with her in the tableaux.
The following morning, Mrs. Inglethorp stayed in bed to breakfast, as she was rather overtired; but she appeared in her briskest mood about 12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to a luncheon party.
"Such a charming invitation from Mrs. Rolleston. Lady Tadminster's sister, you know. The Rollestons came over with the Conqueror--one of our oldest families."
Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr. Bauerstein.
We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrence suggested that we should return by Tadminster, which was barely a mile out of our way, and pay a visit to Cynthia in her dispensary. Mrs. Inglethorp replied that this was an excellent idea, but as she had several letters to write she would drop us there, and we could come back with Cynthia in the pony-trap.
We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until Cynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in her long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, and introduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiring individual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as "Nibs."
"What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round the small room. "Do you really know what's in them all?"
"Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single person who comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing a prize on the first individual who does _not_ say: 'What a lot of bottles!' And I know the next thing you're going to say is: 'How many people have you poisoned?' "
I pleaded guilty with a laugh.
"If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison some one by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's have tea. We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard. No, Lawrence--that's the poison cupboard. The big cupboard--that's right."
We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards. We had just put away the last tea-spoon when a knock came at the door. The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression.
"Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.
A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottle which she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhat enigmatical remark:
"_I_'m not really here to-day."
Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.
"This should have been sent up this morning."
"Sister is very sorry. She forgot."
"Sister should read the rules outside the door."
I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was not the least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message to the dreaded "Sister".
"So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia.
"Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?"
"Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if we have time it shall be done."
The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from the shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.
I laughed.
"Discipline must be maintained?"
"Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outside wards there."
I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the different wards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked at her watch.
"Nothing more to do, Nibs?"
"No."
"All right. Then we can lock up and go."
I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He was the opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that, if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him. I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were both gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.
As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.
As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.
"Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!"
"Poirot!" I exclaimed.
I turned to the pony-trap.
"This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."
"Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea he was a friend of yours."
"Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here." Then, as I looked at him inquiringly: "Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."
Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible. I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandyfied little man who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.
He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and his fellow Belgians, and I promised to go and see him at an early date. Then he raised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and we drove away.
"He's a dear little man," said Cynthia. "I'd no idea you knew him."
"You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares," I replied.
And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the various exploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.
We arrived back in a very cheerful mood. As we entered the hall, Mrs. Inglethorp came out of her boudoir. She looked flushed and upset.
"Oh, it's you," she said.
"Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?" asked Cynthia.
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What should there be?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, going into the dining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps into the boudoir.
"Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently: "Don't you think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're looking very tired."
"Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've some letters I must finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire in my room as I told you?"
"Yes, m'm."
"Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."
She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her.
"Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.
He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turned on his heel and went out of the house.
I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthia agreeing, I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.
Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been my fancy, but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed.
"Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appear as indifferent as I could.
"I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"
"In the boudoir."
Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerve herself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairs across the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her.
As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass the open boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the following scrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying in the voice of a woman desperately controlling herself:
"Then you won't show it to me?"
To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:
"My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter."
"Then show it to me."
"I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern you in the least."
To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:
"Of course, I might have known you would shield him."
Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:
"I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."
"What kind of a row?"
"Between Aunt Emily and _him_. I do hope she's found him out at last!"
"Was Dorcas there, then?"
"Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real old bust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."
I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, but wisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possible hypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, and will never speak to him again."
I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen. Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I tried to forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I could not dismiss them altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish's concern in the matter?
Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. His face was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struck me afresh.
Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and during the meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp was unusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with little attentions, placing a cushion at her back, and altogether playing the part of the devoted husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir again.
"Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes to catch the post."
Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. Mary Cavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.
"Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" she asked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? I will pour it out."
"Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it to Emily." He poured it out, and went out of the room carrying it carefully.
Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.
We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night, hot and still. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm leaf.
"It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have a thunderstorm."
Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradise was rudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartily disliked, voice in the hall.
"Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time to come."
I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quite undisturbed, the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.
In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in, the latter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit state for a drawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle, being literally plastered with mud.
"What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish.
"I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not really mean to come in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."
"Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling in from the hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have been up to."
"Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he described how he had discovered a very rare species of fern in an inaccessible place, and in his efforts to obtain it had lost his footing, and slipped ignominiously into a neighbouring pond.
"The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid my appearance is very disreputable."
At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, and the girl ran out.
"Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."
The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did, John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who could swear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, in her hand.
My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr. Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last, however, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I must see our agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No one need sit up. I will take the latch-key."
伊夫琳·霍華德走後兩三天，我收到了她的一封信，信上告訴我，她已在米德林海姆的一傢大醫院裏做護士，該地離這兒有十五、六英裏，是個工業小城。她懇求我，要是英格裏桑太太表示出有同她和好的願望的話，就讓她知道。
在我的寧靜的日子裏，唯一的美中不足是卡文迪什太太在和鮑斯坦醫生的交往中那種特殊的、對我來說是不可理解的偏愛。她到底着中此人的哪一點，我沒法想象，可是她老是邀請他到傢裏來，經常和他一塊兒出去作長時間的旅遊。我必須承認，我實在看不出他的吸引力究竟在哪裏。
七月十六日是星期一，這一天整天亂糟糟的。一次著名的義賣已在上一個星期六開幕。這天晚上要舉行一次和同一賑濟有關的文娛晚會，英格裏桑太太要在會上朗誦一首戰爭詩。上於我們大夥都忙着整理和佈置開晚會的村子禮堂。中飯吃得很遲，下午就在花園裏休息。我發覺約翰的神態有點異常。他好象十分焦躁不安。
喝好茶，英格裏桑太大會躺下休息了，晚上她還得努力一番。而我則嚮瑪麗·卡文迪什挑戰，要和她作一次網球單打比賽。
六點三刻左右，英格裏桑太太叫喚我們，說是我們要遲到了，因為這天的晚飯要提早。為了能及時準備好，我們衹好草草收兵。晚飯還沒吃完，汽車已經等在門口了。
晚會開得很成功。英格裏桑太大的朗誦博得了一片熱烈的掌聲。還表演了一些舞臺造型，辛西婭也在其中扮演了角色。她沒有和我們一起回傢，應邀參加一個晚餐會去了，這大晚上，她和那些和她一起演出的朋友在一起。
第二天早上，英格裏桑太太是在床上吃的早飯，她有點疲勞過度了，但是，十二點半左右，她精神抖擻地出現了，硬要帶勞倫斯和我也一起去參加一次午餐會。
“你知道，這是羅雷斯頓太太的盛情邀請，她就是塔明斯特夫人的妹妹。羅雷斯頓傢和徵服者①一起來到這兒，是我國最古老的傢族之一。”
瑪麗托詞和鮑斯但有約在先，為自己不能同往表示了歉意。
我們吃了一頓非常適意的中飯，而當我們驅車離開時，勞倫斯提議，我們應該經由塔明斯特回來，那兒衹離我們走的公路一英裏，到辛西婭的藥房去看看她。英格裏桑太太回答說這是個好主意，可是由於她有幾封信要寫，她得把我們丟在那兒，我們可以和辛西婭一起乘輕便馬車回來。
我們由於受到懷疑，一直被醫院的看門人阻留着，直到辛西婭出來為我們證明纔讓進去。她穿着件白色的長外套，看上去既沉靜又溫柔。她帶我們來到她的工作室，把我們介紹給和她一起的那位藥劑師，一個有點使人害怕的人，辛西婭輕鬆地把他叫做“尼布斯”。
“瓶子真多！”當我的眼睛朝這個小小的房間巡視了一圈後，我驚呼說。“你真的都知道所有的瓶子裏是什麽嗎？”
“說起來真怪，”辛西婭嘆了口氣說。“每個到這兒來的人都這麽說。我們真想給第一個不講‘瓶子真多’的人發筆奬金，我知道，你接下去打算問的一句話就是：‘你毒死多少人了呀？’”
我微笑着，感到很內疚。
“要是你們知道錯毒死一個人是多麽容易，你就不會說這樣的笑話了。得啦！我們喝茶吧。那衹櫥裏的各種內情我們都已掌握了。不，勞倫斯——那是毒藥櫥，是那衹大櫥子——對了。”
我們高高興興地喝了茶。後來還幫辛西婭洗了茶具。正當我們放好最後一隻茶匙時，門外傳來了一陣敲門聲。
辛西婭和尼布斯突然板起了臉孔，露出了嚴肅的神情。
“進來，”辛西婭說，帶着一種明顯的職業性的語氣。
一個顯得有點驚慌模樣的年輕護士，拿着一隻瓶子出現了，她把瓶子遞給了尼布斯，他示意她交給辛西婭，還說了句有點莫明其妙的話：
“今天我不是真正在這兒。”
辛西婭接過瓶子，象個法官一樣嚴格地把它檢查了一番。
“這應該是今天上午來領的。”
“護士長說很對不起。她忘了。”
“護士長應該來讀讀門外的規定。”
我從小護士的神色上猜出，她是不可能有這種膽量把這一口信帶給那位使人害伯的“修女”的。
“這可得到明天才能領了。”
“你看今天晚上是不是有可能給我們？”
“好吧，”辛西婭寬厚地說。“我們很忙，不過，如果有時間的話，我們就裝一裝。”
小護士退出去了，辛西婭敏捷地從架子上取下一隻大瓶，把那衹瓶子灌滿，然後把它放到門外的桌子上。
我笑了起來。
“紀律必須維持？”
“一點不錯，到我們的小陽臺上去吧。那兒外面的全部病房都能看到。”
我跟着辛西婭和她的朋友走到陽臺上，他們指給我看各個不同的病房。勞倫斯仍留在房裏。可是過了一會，辛西妞扭頭叫了他一聲，要他出來和我們一起來看。後來，她看了看表。
“沒什麽事情了吧，尼布斯？”
“沒有了。”
“好吧。那我們可以鎖門走了。”
那天下午，我對勞倫斯有了完全不同的看法。雖然和約翰相比，他是個使人吃驚地難以瞭解的人，幾乎在每個方面部不同於他的哥哥，十分膽小，沉默寡言，可是，他還是有某些討人喜歡的舉止態度，因而我相信，要是一個人真正對他有很好的瞭解，是一定會深深地喜歡他的。我原來一直認為他對待辛西婭的態度相當不自然，她對他也羞答答。可是那天下午，他們倆都很快活，他們在一起談得很起勁，仿佛象一對孩子。
當我們乘馬車穿過林子時，我想起我要買幾張郵票，於是我們就在郵局門口停了下來。
在我走出郵局時，我和一個正在進來的小個子男人撞了一個滿懷。我急忙退到一邊：嚮他道了歉，可那人突然大聲驚叫了起來，把我緊緊地擁抱住，熱情地吻我。
“親愛的哈斯丁！”他喊道。“真的是親愛的哈斯丁！”
“波洛！”我也喊了起來。
我們回到馬車旁邊。
“這是我一次非常愉快的會見，辛西婭小姐。這位是我的老朋友波洛先生，我已經有好幾年沒有見到他了。”
“噢，我們認識波洛先生，”辛西婭快活地說。“可是我沒有想到他也是你的朋友。”
“不錯，真的，”波洛一本正經地說。“我認識辛西婭小姐，我得以到這兒來是全仗好心的英格裏桑太太的恩賜。”見我好奇地打量着他，他接着說：“是的，我的朋友，她友好地殷勤接待了我們七個同胞，唉，我們這幾個都是從自己的祖國逃亡出來的人啊。我們比利時人將永遠懷着感激的心情把她銘記在心裏。”
波洛是個外表特別的小個子男人，身高衹有五英尺四英寸，可是舉止顯得非常莊重。他的腦袋模樣兒完全象衹雞蛋，而他總愛把它微微側嚮一邊。他的那一抹翹鬍子又硬又挺，象個軍人。他的衣着整潔得簡直不可思議。我相信，在他身上落上一粒灰塵會使他感到比一顆子彈打傷他還要痛苦。這位漂亮的、打扮得象的小個子（看到他現在的精神這樣沮喪，我感到很難過）原來一直是比利時警方最著名的工作人員之一，作為一個偵探，他有着非凡的天才，他曾經成功地偵破過當時的一些最最棘手的案件。
他指給我看了看他和他的比利時同胞棲身的小屋，我答應盡早去看望他。接着，他用一種戲劇性的動作，朝辛西婭揚了揚帽子。於是我們就上車離開了。
“他是個可愛的小個子，”辛西婭說。“我沒有想到你認識他。”
“你們是在不知不覺地接待一位名人，”我回答說。
在回傢的路上，我對他們講述了赫卡爾·波洛的各種功績和成就。
我們懷着歡樂的心情回到傢裏。當我們走進門廳時，英格裏桑太太正從她的閨房②中出來。她看上去有些激動，心煩意亂。
“哦，是你們，”她說。
“出什麽事了嗎，埃米莉阿姨？”辛西婭問道。
“沒有，”英格裏桑太太警覺他說，“會出什麽事呀？”這時她看到女傭人多卡斯走進餐室，就叫她拿點郵票到她房裏去。
“好的，太太。”老女僕躊躇了一下，接着又膽怯地補充說：“大太，您不認為您最好還是上床去躺一會嗎？您看來太疲勞了。”
“你也許說得對，多卡斯——是的——不——現在不行。我還有幾封信，得趕在郵局收信之前寫完。你已經按我告訴過你那樣，在我房裏生了火了嗎？”
“生了，太太。”
“那我吃過晚飯就馬上去睡。”
她又走進自己的房間，辛西婭凝視着她的背影。
“天啊！究竟出了什麽事了？”她對勞倫斯說。
他仿佛沒有聽到她說的話，一聲不吭地轉身走出屋子去了。
我對辛西婭提議，在晚飯前來一場網球快速比賽，她同意了，於是我跑上樓去取球拍。
卡文迪什太太正下樓來。也許是我的一種錯覺，可是她確實顯得有點古怪，心神不定。
“去和鮑斯坦醫生散步了嗎？”我問道，盡可能表現出一種不在乎的樣子。
“沒去，”她倉猝地回答說。“英格裏桑太太在哪兒？”
“在閨房裏。”
她一隻手緊握住欄桿，接着好象鼓起勇氣去完成一件艱險的工作，匆匆地走過我的身旁，下了樓，穿過門廳，朝閨房走去，進去後，關上了身後的房門。
過了一會，我奔嚮網球場，我得從閨房的打開的窗下經過，這時我偶然地聽到了下面這些談話的片斷。瑪麗·卡文迪什以一個死命想控製住自己感情的婦女的聲音在說：
“那你就不能給我看看嗎？”
英格裏桑太太對她回答說：
“親愛的瑪麗，這沒有什麽。”
“那就給我着看。”
“我告訴你了，事情不象你想的那樣。這同你絲毫沒有關係。”
瑪麗·卡文迪什回答說，聲音更加悲哀：
“當然羅，我早就知道你是會襢護他的。”
辛西婭正在等着我，她熱切地迎着我說：
“嗨，大吵過一場啦！我從多卡斯那兒全部打聽到了。”
“誰吵架呀？”
“埃米莉阿姨和他。我真希望她最終會看透他！”
“那麽多卡斯在場嗎？”
“當然不在。衹是碰巧在房門口。這次可真是大破裂了。我真希望能把全部情況着；瞭解個一清二楚。”
我想起了雷剋斯太太那張吉普賽人的臉蛋，以及伊夫琳·霍華德的警告，但是我明智地决心保持沉默，而辛西婭卻千方百計地作了每一種可能的假設，興奮地希望“埃米莉阿姨會把他攆走，會永遠不再和他說話”。
我急於想見到約翰，可是到處都找不到他，顯然，那天下午出了什麽嚴重的事了。我竭力想忘掉我偶爾聽到的那幾句話，可是，不管我怎麽着，我都沒法把它們完全從我的腦子裏抹去。瑪麗·卡文迪什所關心的那件事是什麽呢？
我下樓來吃飯時，英格裏桑先生正坐在客廳裏。他臉上的表情仍象往常一樣冷淡，因而我重又感到此人的令人不快的虛偽。
英格裏桑太太最後一個來，她看上去仍然焦躁不安。
吃飯期間餐桌上有着一種緊張的沉默。英格裏桑異常平靜，象往常一樣，他給他的妻子時而獻一點小殷勤，在她的背後放上一隻背墊什麽的，完全扮演着一個忠實丈夫的角色。飯後，英格裏桑太太立即就回到自己的閨房去了。
“把我的咖啡拿來吧，瑪麗，”她叫喚道。“要趕上郵班，衹有五分鐘了。”
我和辛西婭走到客廳的打開的窗戶跟前，坐了下來。
瑪麗·卡艾迪什給我們送來了咖啡。她顯得有點激動。
“你們年輕人要開燈呢，”還是喜愛朦朧的黃昏？”她問道。“辛西婭，你把英格裏桑太太的咖啡送去好嗎？我來把它斟好。”
“你別麻煩了，瑪麗，”英格裏桑說：“我會給埃米莉送去的。”他斟了一杯咖啡，小心翼翼地端着它走出了房間。
勞倫斯也跟着出去了，於是卡文迪什太太在我們旁邊坐了下來。
我們三人默默地坐了一會。這是個愉快的夜晚，四周一片靜寂，天氣很熱，卡文迪什太太用一把棕櫚葉扇輕輕地扇着涼。
“天氣簡直太熱了，”她低聲哺咕道，“要下雷雨了。””
唉，真是好景不長啊！我的良辰美景突然被門廳裏的一陣熟識的非常討厭的聲音打破了。
“鮑斯坦醫生！”辛西婭驚叫起來。“怪了，怎麽這時候來。”
我偷偷地朝瑪麗·卡文迪什瞥了一眼，可是她似乎十分泰然自若，她雙頰上那嬌白的臉色毫無變化。
過了一會，阿弗雷德·英格裏桑把醫生領進來了。後者大聲笑着，堅决表示他這副樣子去客廳是不適宜的。事實上，他真的出了洋相，他身上沾滿了泥。
“你在忙什麽呀，醫生？”瑪麗·卡文什迪大聲問道。
“我得解釋一下，”醫生說。”我實在不打算進來，可是英格裏桑先生定要我來。”
“哦，跑斯坦，你陷入窘境了。”約翰說着從過道裏踱了進來。“喝點咖啡吧，和我們談談，你在忙點什麽。”
“謝謝，我這就講吧。”他苦笑着說。他說他在一個難攀登的地方發現了一種相當罕見的蕨類植物，而就在他千方百計想把它采到手的時候，他，實在丟人，竟失足掉進了近旁的一口池塘。
“太陽雖然很訣就把我的衣服曬幹了，”他接着說，“可是我怕這一來我的面子都丟光了。”
就在這時候，英格裏桑太太從過道裏叫喚辛西婭了，於是，姑娘就跑出去了。
“請你把我的公文箱拿過來好嗎，親愛的？我打算睡覺了。”
通註過道的門開得很大。當辛西婭在拿箱子的時候，我已經站起身來，約翰就在我旁邊。因此，有三個人可以證明，當時英格裏桑太太還沒喝咖啡，而是正端在手裏。
我的那個傍晚，已被鮑斯坦醫生的出現完全徹底地破壞了。看來此人好象不走了。然而，他終於站了起來，我纔寬慰地舒了一口氣。
“我走着陪你去村子吧，”英格裏桑先生說。”我得去看看我們那個房地産代理人，”他又轉身對着約翰說，“不需要人等我，我帶大門鑰匙去。”
註釋：
①即一零六六年徵服英國的英王威廉一世。
②係婦女的起居室或室。
I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after her departure, telling me she was working as a nurse at the big hospital in Middlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen miles away, and begging me to let her know if Mrs. Inglethorp should show any wish to be reconciled.
The only fly in the ointment of my peaceful days was Mrs. Cavendish's extraordinary, and, for my part, unaccountable preference for the society of Dr. Bauerstein. What she saw in the man I cannot imagine, but she was always asking him up to the house, and often went off for long expeditions with him. I must confess that I was quite unable to see his attraction.
The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. The famous bazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment, in connection with the same charity, at which Mrs. Inglethorp was to recite a War poem, was to be held that night. We were all busy during the morning arranging and decorating the Hall in the village where it was to take place. We had a late luncheon and spent the afternoon resting in the garden. I noticed that John's manner was somewhat unusual. He seemed very excited and restless.
After tea, Mrs. Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before her efforts in the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to a single at tennis.
About a quarter to seven, Mrs. Inglethorp called us that we should be late as supper was early that night. We had rather a scramble to get ready in time; and before the meal was over the motor was waiting at the door.
The entertainment was a great success, Mrs. Inglethorp's recitation receiving tremendous applause. There were also some tableaux in which Cynthia took part. She did not return with us, having been asked to a supper party, and to remain the night with some friends who had been acting with her in the tableaux.
The following morning, Mrs. Inglethorp stayed in bed to breakfast, as she was rather overtired; but she appeared in her briskest mood about 12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to a luncheon party.
"Such a charming invitation from Mrs. Rolleston. Lady Tadminster's sister, you know. The Rollestons came over with the Conqueror--one of our oldest families."
Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr. Bauerstein.
We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrence suggested that we should return by Tadminster, which was barely a mile out of our way, and pay a visit to Cynthia in her dispensary. Mrs. Inglethorp replied that this was an excellent idea, but as she had several letters to write she would drop us there, and we could come back with Cynthia in the pony-trap.
We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until Cynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in her long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, and introduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiring individual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as "Nibs."
"What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round the small room. "Do you really know what's in them all?"
"Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single person who comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing a prize on the first individual who does _not_ say: 'What a lot of bottles!' And I know the next thing you're going to say is: 'How many people have you poisoned?' "
I pleaded guilty with a laugh.
"If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison some one by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's have tea. We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard. No, Lawrence--that's the poison cupboard. The big cupboard--that's right."
We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards. We had just put away the last tea-spoon when a knock came at the door. The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression.
"Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.
A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottle which she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhat enigmatical remark:
"_I_'m not really here to-day."
Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.
"This should have been sent up this morning."
"Sister is very sorry. She forgot."
"Sister should read the rules outside the door."
I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was not the least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message to the dreaded "Sister".
"So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia.
"Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?"
"Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if we have time it shall be done."
The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from the shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.
I laughed.
"Discipline must be maintained?"
"Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outside wards there."
I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the different wards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked at her watch.
"Nothing more to do, Nibs?"
"No."
"All right. Then we can lock up and go."
I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He was the opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that, if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him. I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were both gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.
As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.
As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.
"Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!"
"Poirot!" I exclaimed.
I turned to the pony-trap.
"This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."
"Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea he was a friend of yours."
"Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here." Then, as I looked at him inquiringly: "Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."
Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible. I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandyfied little man who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.
He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and his fellow Belgians, and I promised to go and see him at an early date. Then he raised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and we drove away.
"He's a dear little man," said Cynthia. "I'd no idea you knew him."
"You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares," I replied.
And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the various exploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.
We arrived back in a very cheerful mood. As we entered the hall, Mrs. Inglethorp came out of her boudoir. She looked flushed and upset.
"Oh, it's you," she said.
"Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?" asked Cynthia.
"Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What should there be?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, going into the dining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps into the boudoir.
"Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently: "Don't you think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're looking very tired."
"Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've some letters I must finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire in my room as I told you?"
"Yes, m'm."
"Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."
She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her.
"Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.
He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turned on his heel and went out of the house.
I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthia agreeing, I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.
Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been my fancy, but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed.
"Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appear as indifferent as I could.
"I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"
"In the boudoir."
Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerve herself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairs across the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her.
As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass the open boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the following scrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying in the voice of a woman desperately controlling herself:
"Then you won't show it to me?"
To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:
"My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter."
"Then show it to me."
"I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern you in the least."
To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:
"Of course, I might have known you would shield him."
Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:
"I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."
"What kind of a row?"
"Between Aunt Emily and _him_. I do hope she's found him out at last!"
"Was Dorcas there, then?"
"Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real old bust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."
I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, but wisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possible hypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, and will never speak to him again."
I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen. Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I tried to forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I could not dismiss them altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish's concern in the matter?
Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. His face was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struck me afresh.
Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and during the meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp was unusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with little attentions, placing a cushion at her back, and altogether playing the part of the devoted husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir again.
"Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes to catch the post."
Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. Mary Cavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.
"Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" she asked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? I will pour it out."
"Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it to Emily." He poured it out, and went out of the room carrying it carefully.
Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.
We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night, hot and still. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm leaf.
"It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have a thunderstorm."
Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradise was rudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartily disliked, voice in the hall.
"Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time to come."
I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quite undisturbed, the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.
In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in, the latter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit state for a drawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle, being literally plastered with mud.
"What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish.
"I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not really mean to come in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."
"Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling in from the hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have been up to."
"Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he described how he had discovered a very rare species of fern in an inaccessible place, and in his efforts to obtain it had lost his footing, and slipped ignominiously into a neighbouring pond.
"The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid my appearance is very disreputable."
At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, and the girl ran out.
"Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."
The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did, John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who could swear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, in her hand.
My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr. Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last, however, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I must see our agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No one need sit up. I will take the latch-key."