悬崖山庄奇案15

Chapter 15 – Strange Behaviour of Frederica

Poirot's inventions about the Chief Constable were proved not to have been so mendacious after all. Colonel Weston called upon us soon after lunch.

He was a tall man of military carriage with considerable good-looks. He had a suitable reverence for Poirot's achievements, with which he seemed to be well acquainted.

'Marvellous piece of luck for us having you down here, M. Poirot,' he said again and again.

His one fear was that he should be compelled to call in the assistance of Scotland Yard. He was anxious to solve the mystery and catch the criminal without their aid. Hence his delight at Poirot's presence in the neighbourhood.

Poirot, so far as I could judge, took him completely into his confidence.

'Deuced odd business,' said the Colonel. 'Never heard of anything like it. Well, the girl ought to be safe enough in a nursing home. Still, you can't keep her there for ever!'

'That, M. le Colonel, is just the difficulty. There is only one way of dealing with it.'

'And that is?'

'We must lay our hands on the person responsible.'

'If what you suspect is true, that isn't going to be so easy.'

'Ah! je le sais bien.'

'Evidence! Getting evidence is going to be the devil.'

He frowned abstractedly.

'Always difficult, these cases, where there's no routine work. If we could get hold of the pistol-'

'In all probability it is at the bottom of the sea. That is, if the murderer had any sense.'

'Ah!' said Colonel Weston. 'But often they haven't. You'd be surprised at the fool things people do. I'm not talking of murders-we don't have many murders down in these parts, I'm glad to say-but in ordinary police court cases. The sheer damn foolishness of these people would surprise you.'

'They are of a different mentality, though,'

'Yes-perhaps. If Vyse is the chap, well, we'll have our work cut out. He's a cautious man and a sound lawyer. He'll not give himself away. The woman-well, there would be more hope there. Ten to one she'll try again. Women have no patience.'

He rose.

'Inquest tomorrow morning. Coroner will work in with us and give away as little as possible. We want to keep things dark at present.'

He was turning towards the door when he suddenly came back.

'Upon my soul, I'd forgotten the very thing that will interest you most, and that I want your opinion about.'

Sitting down again, he drew from his pocket a torn scrap of paper with writing on it and handed it to Poirot.

'My police found this when they were searching the grounds. Nor far from where you were all watching the fireworks. It's the only suggestive thing they did find.'

Poirot smoothed it out. The writing was large and straggling.

'...must have money at once. If not you... what will happen. I'm warning you.'

Poirot frowned. He read and re-read it.

'This is interesting,' he said. 'I may keep it?'

'Certainly. There are no finger-prints on it. I'll be glad if you can make anything of it.'

Colonel Weston got to his feet again.

'I really must be off. Inquest tomorrow, as I said. By the way, you are not being called as witness-only Captain Hastings. Don't want the newspaper people to get wise to your being on the job.'

'I comprehend. What of the relations of the poor young lady?'

'The father and mother are coming from Yorkshire today. They'll arrive about half-past five. Poor souls. I'm heartily sorry for them. They are taking the body back with them the following day.'

He shook his head.

'Unpleasant business. I'm not enjoying this, M. Poirot.'

'Who could, M. le Colonel? It is, as you say, an unpleasant business.'

When he had gone, Poirot examined the scrap of paper once more.

'An important clue?' I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

'How can one tell? There is a hint of blackmail about it! Someone of our party that night was being pressed for money in a very unpleasant way. Of course, it is possible that it was one of the strangers.'

He looked at the writing through a little magnifying glass.

'Does this writing look at all familiar to you, Hastings?'

'It reminds me a little of something-Ah! I have it-that note of Mrs Rice's.'

'Yes,' said Poirot, slowly. 'There are resemblances. Decidedly there are resemblances. It is curious. Yet I do not think that this is the writing of Madame Rice. Come in,' he said, as a knock came at the door.

It was Commander Challenger.

'Just looked in,' he explained. 'Wanted to know if you were any further forward.'

'Parbleu,' said Poirot. 'At this moment I am feeling that I am considerably further back. I seem to progressen reculant.'

'That's bad. But I don't really believe it, M. Poirot. I've been hearing all about you and what a wonderful chap you are. Never had a failure, they say.'

'That is not true,' said Poirot. 'I had a bad failure in Belgium in 1893. You recollect, Hastings? I recounted it to you. The affair of the box of chocolates.'

'I remember,' I said.

And I smiled, for at the time that Poirot told me that tale, he had instructed me to say 'chocolate box' to him if ever I should fancy he was growing conceited! He was then bitterly offended when I used the magical words only a minute and a quarter later.

'Oh, well,' said Challenger, 'that is such a long time ago it hardly counts. You are going to get to the bottom of this, aren't you?'

'That I swear. On the word of Hercule Poirot. I am the dog who stays on the scent and does not leave it.'

'Good. Got any ideas?'

'I have suspicions of two people.'

'I suppose I mustn't ask you who they are?'

'I should not tell you! You see, I might possibly be in error.'

'My alibi is satisfactory, I trust,' said Challenger, with a faint twinkle.

Poirot smiled indulgently at the bronzed face in front of him. 'You left Devonport at a few minutes past 8.30. You arrived here at five minutes past ten-twenty minutes after the crime had been committed. But the distance from Devonport is only just over thirty miles, and you have often done it in an hour since the road is good. So, you see, your alibi is not good at all!'

'Well, I'm-'

'You comprehend, I inquire into everything. Your alibi, as I say, is not good. But there are other things beside alibis. You would like, I think, to marry Mademoiselle Nick?'

The sailor's face flushed.

'I've always wanted to marry her,' he said huskily.

'Precisely. Eh bien -Mademoiselle Nick was engaged to another man. A reason, perhaps, for killing the other man. But that is unnecessary-he dies the death of a hero.'

'So it is true-that Nick was engaged to Michael Seton? There's a rumour to that effect all over the town this morning.'

'Yes-it is interesting how soon news spreads. You never suspected it before?'

'I knew Nick was engaged to someone-she told me so two days ago. But she didn't give me a clue as to whom it was.'

'It was Michael Seton. Entre nous, he has left her, I fancy, a very pretty fortune. Ah! assuredly, it is not a moment for killing Mademoiselle Nick-from your point of view. She weeps for her lover now, but the heart consoles itself. She is young. And I think, Monsieur, that she is very fond of you...'

Challenger was silent for a moment or two. 'If it should be...' he murmured. There was a tap on the door.

It was Frederica Rice.

'I've been looking for you,' she said to Challenger. 'They told me you were here. I wanted to know if you'd got my wrist-watch back yet.'

'Oh, yes, I called for it this morning.'

He took it from his pocket and handed it to her. It was a watch of rather an unusual shape-round, like a globe, set on a strap of plain black moire. I remembered that I had seen one much the same shape on Nick Buckley's wrist.

'I hope it will keep better time now.'

'It's rather a bore. Something is always going wrong with it.'

'It is for beauty, Madame, and not for utility,' said Poirot.

'Can't one have both?' She looked from one to the other of us. 'Am I interrupting a conference?'

'No, indeed, Madame. We were talking gossip-not the crime. We were saying how quickly news spreads-how that everyone now knows that Mademoiselle Nick was engaged to that brave airman who perished.'

'So Nick was engaged to Michael Seton!' exclaimed Frederica. 'It surprises you, Madame?'

'It does a little. I don't know why. Certainly I did think he was very taken with her last autumn. They went about a lot together. And then, after Christmas, they both seemed to cool off. As far as I know, they hardly met.'

'The secret, they kept it very well.'

'That was because of old Sir Matthew, I suppose. He was really a little off his head, I think.'

'You had no suspicion, Madame? And yet Mademoiselle was such an intimate friend.'

'Nick's a close little devil when she likes,' murmured Frederica. 'But I understand now why she's been so nervy lately. Oh! and I ought to have guessed from something she said only the other day.'

'Your little friend is very attractive, Madame.'

'Old Jim Lazarus used to think so at one time,' said Challenger, with his loud, rather tactless laugh.

'Oh! Jim-' She shrugged her shoulders, but I thought she was annoyed.

She turned to Poirot.

'Tell me, M. Poirot, did you-'

She stopped. Her tall figure swayed and her face turned whiter still. Her eyes were fixed on the centre of the table.

'You are not well, Madame.'

I pushed forward a chair, helped her to sink into it. She shook her head, murmured, 'I'm all right,' and leaned forward, her face between her hands. We watched her awkwardly.

She sat up in a minute.

'How absurd! George, darling, don't look so worried. Let's talk about murders. Something exciting. I want to know if M. Poirot is on the track.'

'It is early to say, Madame,' said Poirot, noncommittally.

'But you have ideas-yes?'

'Perhaps. But I need a great deal more evidence.'

'Oh!' She sounded uncertain.

Suddenly she rose.

'I've got a head. I think I'll go and lie down. Perhaps tomorrow they'll let me see Nick.'

She left the room abruptly. Challenger frowned.

'You never know what that woman's up to. Nick may have been fond of her, but I don't believe she was fond of Nick. But there, you can't tell with women. It's darling-darling-darling-all the time-and "damn you" would probably express it much better. Are you going out, M. Poirot?' For Poirot had risen and was carefully brushing a speck off his hat.

'Yes, I am going into the town.'

'I've got nothing to do. May I come with you.'

'Assuredly. It will be a pleasure.'

We left the room. Poirot, with an apology, went back.

'My stick,' he explained, as he rejoined us.

Challenger winced slightly. And indeed the stick, with its embossed gold band, was somewhat ornate.

Poirot's first visit was to a florist.

'I must send some flowers to Mademoiselle Nick,' he explained.

He proved difficult to suit.

In the end he chose an ornate gold basket to be filled with orange carnations. The whole to be tied up with a large blue bow.

The shopwoman gave him a card and he wrote on it with a flourish: 'With the Compliments of Hercule Poirot.'

'I sent her some flowers this morning,' said Challenger. 'I might send her some fruit.'

'Inutile!' said Poirot.

'What?'

'I said it was useless. The eatable-it is not permitted.'

'Who says so?'

'I say so. I have made the rule. It has already been impressed on Mademoiselle Nick. She understands.'

'Good Lord!' said Challenger.

He looked thoroughly startled. He stared at Poirot curiously.

'So that's it, is it?' he said. 'You're still-afraid.'

第十五章　弗雷德里卡的反常

波洛为摆脱克罗夫特先生极其热情的纠缠而灵机一动凭空捏造出来的跟警察局长的约会，看来其真实性实在无可指责。一吃过午饭，韦斯顿上校就来拜访我们了。他是个好看的颇有军人风度的高个子，对于波洛过去的丰功伟绩表示出恰如其分的敬意。由此看来，他大概会得到波洛的合作和帮助的。

“你在这里可真是我们不可多得的幸运，波洛先生。”他不厌其烦地说。

他深怕不得不求助于苏格兰场，一心指望独力侦破此案捕获凶手。所以波洛的近在咫尺使他深感欣慰。

波洛，就如我现在可以断定的，完全信赖这位上校。

“真怪呀，”上校说，“从来没听说过这种案子。不错，在休养所里的那位姑娘该是很安全了，但你总不能使她永远住在那里边呀。”

“这正是困难的地方，上校先生，要解决这个难点只有一个办法。”

“就是——”

“我们必须找到作案的人。”

“那可不是件容易的事。”

“啊，这我知道。”

“线索！只有魔鬼才找得到的线索和证据！”他双眉紧锁，“这种事情老是那么困难重重，根本没有固定的方法可循，如果我们能拿到那枝手枪——”

“那枝手枪最大的可能是在海底——就是说如果凶手理智健全的话。”

“啊，”韦斯顿上校说，“这种人的理智往往是不健全的！人们干出来的蠢事往往叫你惊异不已呢。我并不是说在谋杀案里——我们这里不大有谋杀案出现，我高兴能这么说——我说的是在一般的刑事案件当中，人们无以复加的疏忽和愚笨会叫你叹为观止的。”

“他们另有一套想法吧。”

“是的——可能。如果维斯就是作案者，我们就很难进行了，他是个谨慎的人，也是个成熟的律师，短时间内不会暴露自己，如果是那个女的，那就比较好办，十有八九她还会再干一下子，女人是没有耐性的。”

他站起身来。

“明天上午验尸，验尸官明天会来跟我们一起干，他是不会声张的，目前我们要在暗中进行，不能弄得沸沸扬扬。”

他向房门转过身去，又突然走回来。

“老天，我把一件会使你大感兴趣的事给忘了，我要听听你关于这东西的见解。”

他又坐了下来，从口袋里掏出一张揉成一团的字条，把它递给波洛。

“我的警察在搜查花园时发现了这个字条，离你们昨晚看焰火的地方不远，这是他们所找到的惟一有点意思的东西，可惜不全。”

波洛把它摊平，那上头的字写得很大，歪歪斜斜的。

“……立刻就要钱，不然的话，你……就将发生，我警告你。”

波洛皱起眉头，把它看了一遍又一遍。

“很有意思，”他说，“可以放在我这里吗？”

“当然可以，那上头没有指纹，如果你能从中发现什么线索的话就太叫我高兴啦。”

韦斯顿上校又站了起来。

“我真的该走了。明天就要着手进行验尸了，还有，你不会被请去做见证人，但会请黑斯廷斯上尉。我们不想让新闻记者知道你也参与此事。”

“我明白。那位不幸姑娘的家属有什么消息吗？”

“她父亲和母亲今天就要从约克郡到这儿来，他们将在五点半左右到。真可怜哪，我实在同情他们，他们打算第二天就把遗体带回去。”

他摇摇头。

“不愉快的事情，我一点兴致都提不起，波洛先生。”

“谁提得起呢，上校先生？正如你所说的，这是一件不愉快的事。”

他走了以后，波洛把那张纸头又察看了一遍。

“有很重要的线索吗？”我问。

他耸耸肩。

“谁说得准呢？是封讹诈信！在昨晚我们的宴会上有人为了某种很不愉快的事而急需一笔钱，当然，可能是个陌生人。”

他用放大镜看了看那些字。

“黑斯廷斯，你觉得这种书法熟悉吗？”

“它叫我想起——啊！有了——它叫我想起赖斯太太的信！”

“是的，”波洛慢吞吞地说，“是像的，确实很像。怪啊，不过我想这不是赖斯太太的字迹。”这时有人正在敲门，他说，“进来。”

来人是查林杰中校。

“没有什么事，只不过来看看，”他解释说，“我想知道你们有没有什么进展。”

“说真的，”波洛说，“现在我觉得我不但没有进展，反而倒退了，好像在向后前进。”

“糟糕。但我并不真的相信，波洛先生。我听说过你的一切事迹，并且知道你是个多么与众不同的人物，他们说你从来没有失败过。”

“那可不是真的，”波洛说，“一八九三年在比利时我曾告失败。记得吗，黑斯廷斯——我对你讲过的，那盒巧克力的案子。”

“记得的，”我说着微笑起来，因为当时波洛对我讲了那个故事之后指示我说，如果以后我发现他得意忘形了，就对他说“巧克力盒子！”而就在他给了我这个指示以后只过了一分钟零十五秒，我发现他又开始吹嘘起来，就对他说：“巧克力盒子！”谁知道他竟恼羞成怒了。

“哦，”查林杰说，“那是老早以前的事了，不算。你会把这个案子搞个水落石出的，是吗？”

“这我可以发誓，赫尔克里·波洛说话算数。”

“好！有什么想法没有？”

“我怀疑两个人。”

“我想我不应该打听他们是谁吧？”

“我也不会告诉你的，我可能转错了念头。”

“我想，我当时不在现场，总不在嫌疑之列吧？”查林杰眨眨眼说。

波洛对他面前这张古铜色脸宽容地笑了笑：“你八点三十几分离开德文波特，到达这里是十点零五分——案发后二十分钟，但从这儿到德文波特只有三十英里，由于路面平滑，这段距离你通常只用一个小时就够了，因此，你看，你不在场的证明其实是很有漏洞的。”

“啊，我——”

“你得明白，我要查明每件事，你当时不在场，如我刚才说的，是得不到证明的，但除了不在场之外还有其它一些情况却对你有利。我认为，你一定很想跟尼克小姐结婚吧！”

查林杰脸红了。

“我一直想跟她结婚。”他声音嘶哑地说。

“很对，然而——尼克小姐已跟另一个人订了婚，这可能成为杀掉另一个男人的理由，但其实没有必要——他已经像一个英雄似的死去了。”

“这么说来这是真的了——尼克跟迈克尔·塞顿订了婚了？这个消息今天早晨已经传遍全城。”

“是呀，消息会传得这么快可真是件有趣的事。以前你从来没有猜疑过这件事？”

“我知道尼克跟别人订了婚——她两天前告诉我的。但她没有透露那个人是谁。”

“是迈克尔·塞顿，而且我想他给她留下了一大笔钱财哩。啊！肯定地说，从你的立场上讲，现在杀掉尼克可完全不是时候，目前她在为爱人痛哭流涕，不过，她的心会逐渐平静下来的。她正当妙龄，我想，先生，她对你一向青睐有加……”

查林杰沉默了一两分钟。

“如果是……”他喃喃地说。

这时有人敲门。进来的是弗雷德里卡·赖斯。

“我一直在找你，”她对查林杰说，“他们告诉我你在这儿，我想知道你有没有把我那只表取回来。”

“哦，取回来了，我今天上午去取的。”

他从口袋里拿出表来交给她。这是一只式样不寻常的表——圆圆的像个球，配上了一对黑色的皱纹表带，我记得在尼克·巴克利的手腕上也看见过同样一只表。

“我希望现在它能走得比较准些了。”

“这可真是个讨厌的东西，老是出毛病。”

“这东西只是为了好看，太太，而不是为了派用场。”波洛说。

“难道不能两全其美？”她把我们一个个打量过来，“我是否打断了你们的谈话？”

“没有，太太，真的，我们只不过随便谈谈罢了，并不在谈那桩凶杀案。我们在谈消息传播得多快，现在怎么每个人都知道了尼克小姐已经跟死去的飞行勇士订了婚？”

“这么说来尼克确实是跟迈克尔·塞顿订了婚的！”弗雷德里卡惊叹了一声。

“这使你惊奇吗，太太？”

“有点儿，但我不知道为什么。我知道去年秋天他对尼克很感兴趣，他们老在一起，后来，圣诞节之后，他们的关系好像冷淡下来了。就我所知，他们几乎不见面了。”

“这是个秘密，他们一直守口如瓶。”

“我猜这是因为那个老马修爵士的缘故，我觉得他有点老糊涂了。”

“你一直没有猜疑过尼克小姐和塞顿先生的关系，太太？你跟小姐是推心置腹的朋友呀。”

“只要有必要，尼克是守口如瓶的，”弗雷德里卡喃喃地说，“但现在我明白了近来她为什么老是那么神经质，啊，其实从她昨天说的话里我就应当猜到的呀！”

“你那位年轻朋友很迷人呐，太太。”

“吉姆·拉扎勒斯那好小子也有过同感。”查林杰说着很不策略地大笑起来。

“哦！吉姆——”她耸耸肩，但我想她心中老大不高兴。

她转向波洛：

“告诉我，波洛先生，你有没有——”

她停住了，修长的身子摇晃起来，脸色逐渐变得更加苍白，像要昏过去似的。她的双眼牢牢盯在桌子上。

“你不大对劲呀，太太。”

我推过去一张椅子，扶她坐了下来，她缓过气来摇摇头，含糊地说：“我没什么。”身子凑向前去，把脸搁在双手中间，我们很不自在地看着她。

一分钟后她站了起来。

“多荒唐呀！乔治，亲爱的，别那么担心，我们来谈谈那件谋杀案吧。那是个有刺激性的话题，我想知道波洛先生是否已经找到了路子。”

“现在来说还为时过早，太太。”波洛不着边际地说。

“但你总形成了某种看法——对吧？”

“可能。但我需要大量的证据。”

“啊，”她的声音听起来含糊不清。

突然她站了起来。

“我头疼，得去躺一躺，也许明天他们会让我去见尼克的。”

她走出去了，查林杰蹙起了眉头。

“你永远也猜不透一个女人的心思。尼克可能很喜欢她，但我却不相信她喜欢尼克。不过，女人的事情是说不准的，一天到晚是‘亲爱的’、‘心肝’、‘宝贝儿’，心底里的称呼却更可能是‘该死的’、‘鬼东西’、‘狐狸精’。你要出去吗，波洛先生？”这时波洛已经站了起来，正在小心翼翼地掸去帽子上的一星灰尘。

“是的，我要进城去。”

“我没事干，可以和你同去吗？”

“当然可以。很高兴。”

我们离开了房间，波洛道歉了一声又转回去。

“我的拐杖。”出来以后他说。

查林杰难以察觉地往后退了一步。那根拐杖镶着镂花金箍，的确是件华美的装饰品。

波洛首先到花店去。

“我得送些花给尼克小姐。”他解释说。

他挑来挑去，最后选中一只华丽的金色花篮，里面装着橙红色的康乃馨。花篮和花儿被一条蓝色的带子扎在一起，头上还打了个巨大的蝴蝶结。

女店主给了他一张卡片，他在上面用花体字写道：“赫尔克里·波洛鞠躬致意。”

“今天早上我送了一些花给她，”查林杰说，“我想再送一点水果给她。”

“毫无意思！”波洛说。

“什么？”

“我说毫无意思。可吃的东西是不让送进去的。”

“谁说的？”

“我说的。我定下了这条规矩，并且已经把它深深地印在尼克小姐心里了，她理解我的用意。”

“老天！”查林杰说。

他呆呆地盯住波洛。

“原来是这样！”他说，“你还在——害怕！”