Chapter 2 garden mystery
The scheduled dinner time had passed, and Aristide Valentin, the prefect of the Paris police, was late, and the guests had already preceded him.However, his servant Ivan is reliable in his work, and he has repeatedly comforted everyone, so don't be impatient.Ivan is quite old, with a scar on his face and a gray mustache, which is the same as his complexion.He always sat at a table in the hall where various weapons hung.A Valentine house is as special and prestigious as its owner.It was an old house, with high walls, poplar trees, and the Seine; but it was also eccentric, and perhaps that was why the police valued it: it could only be accessed through the main entrance, and there was no other entrance. And the main entrance has been guarded by Ivan and those weapons.The garden behind the house is very open, exquisite and unique, and there are many doors leading to the house.But there was no entrance or exit between the garden and the outside world; it was surrounded on three sides by high, smooth, unclimbable walls topped with special metal spikes.For a man who was hated by hundreds of criminals and wanted to kill them soon, the garden was an ideal place for quiet meditation.
Ivan explained to the guests that the host had called and said that he had something to delay for ten minutes.In fact, he was making the last minute arrangements for such annoying things as executions.Although he hates these jobs from the bottom of his heart, he still checks every detail carefully as always.He is merciless in his pursuit of criminals, but merciful in his punishment.He enjoyed such a great influence in France, and so to speak, in all Europe, that he was always turned to in matters of commutation of sentences, or whether the execution of certain prisoners should be executed, and he was often obliged to do so. His honor.He was one of the great humane French freethinkers whose only fault was to overuse mercy and make it more cruel than justice.
When Valentin appeared, he was fully dressed, in a black evening dress, red, against his dark graying beard, looking imposing.After he entered the gate, he went straight to the study at the back of the house.The door to the garden in the study is open.Carefully replacing the despatch-case in its old place and locking it, he stood for a moment by the open door, looking out into the garden.A crescent moon hung in the sky, appearing and disappearing amidst the chaotic clouds that were brewing a storm.Valentin's emotion and endless reveries are a little abnormal, and it doesn't quite match his inherent scientific temperament.Perhaps this scientific temperament also has some supernatural ability to herald major life changes.Whatever occult situation he got into, at least he got out of it quickly and recovered, because he knew he was late and his guests were already at his house.The moment he entered the living room, he scanned the audience and immediately determined that the important guests had not yet arrived.Most of the other guests have arrived.He saw the English ambassador, Lord Galloway, that grumpy old man with a face like a russet apple and a blue ribbon; and he saw her daughter, Lady Margaret Graham, a fair and pretty girl with an elf face and auburn hair.He saw the Duchess of Mont Saint-Michel and her two daughters, all three dark-eyed and plump.He saw Dr. Simon, a typical French scientist with spectacles, a brown beard, and a brow covered with horizontal wrinkles, which must have been his punishment for raising his eyebrows arrogantly.He saw Father Brown from Copper, Essex, England, whom he had met in England not long ago.He saw a man who might have interested him more: a tall man in stiff military uniform, bowing to the Galloways, who responded only slightly and ignored him.He was alone and walked towards the owner of the house to pay his respects.This is O'Brien, the commander of the French Foreign Legion.He is skinny and proud; he has black hair, blue eyes, clean-shaven face, and a melancholy expression filled with pride. As an officer of the overseas regiment famous for his victorious defeat and successful suicide, this expression seems so natural But that's all.The son of an Irish gentleman, he had known the Galloways as a boy - especially Margaret Graham.In order to avoid debts, he was forced to leave his hometown. Now he can wear a military uniform, wear a saber, and put on combat boots.As he bowed to the ambassador's family, Lord and Lady Galloway stooped slightly stiffly, while Lady Margaret simply looked away.
But, however much these people may have quarreled with each other, the honorable hosts have no special interest in them.In his eyes, these people are not the protagonists tonight.For some particular reason, Valentine was looking forward to a hot shot at the moment.During his great detective career, he went to the United States many times to handle cases and achieved great results. He met this man during his stay in the United States and later became a good friend.The man's name was Julius K. Bryan, and he was a millionaire.He is like a boy who spread money, donating generously everywhere, donating to many small sects, and his indiscriminate behavior has not only become the laughing stock of people after dinner, but also makes British and American newspapers discuss it from time to time.No one can tell whether Mr. Blaine is an atheist, a Mormon, or a Christian Scientist, but he's ready to throw a lot of money at anyone, as long as they belong to an intellectual group and Never touched his light.One of his hobbies is waiting for America's Shakespeare, a hobby that requires more patience than fishing.He admired, but felt that the Parisian, Pennsylvania man had more "progressive" ideas than Whitman had ever seen.He thinks that Valentine is "progressive", but this is a great misunderstanding of Valentine.
Julius K. Blaine finally showed up, and his arrival was like ringing the bell for the banquet.He has a powerful aura that ordinary people cannot match, because of his remarkable characteristics, no matter whether he is present or not, it will have a major impact on any occasion.He was broad and fat, in a black suit, with no pocket watch or ring visible.He has white hair combed back like a German, rosy face, passionate and innocent, but a black beard on the lower lip completely subverts the original childish face, giving people a kind of exaggeration The stage effect is simply the incarnation of "doing good for the sake of great evil".However, the people in the living room just stared at the famous American. His late arrival had already affected the work of the servants, so under everyone's urging, he walked quickly to the dining room with Ms. Galloway on his arm.
On the whole, the Galloways were generous and reasonable, except that they cared about one thing, namely, that as long as Lady Margaret was not on the arm of the explorer O'Brien, her father was satisfied. ; and she did not do this, but walked in with Dr. Simon in a dignified manner.Nevertheless, old Lord Galloway seemed restless and his manner bordered on brusque.He's sophisticated enough not to overdo it at the dinner table.But after dinner was over, when people were puffing on their cigars, and the three—Dr. The men all slipped away, or crowded among the women, or smoked in the conservatory.At this time, British diplomats began to pay less and less attention to diplomatic strategies.From time to time a thought tormented him, tingled his nerves: that the rascal O'Brien might be making love to Margaret.At this time, only he, the white-haired Yankee Bryan who worshiped God when he saw God, and the gray-haired Valentine who didn't believe in anything were left alone in the dining room drinking coffee.No matter how violent the two of them argued, they would not turn to him.After a time, this "progressive" rhetorical battle finally became so tedious for both of them that a change of play was necessary; Lord Galloway also got up and went to the drawing room.In the long corridor, he lost his way and tossed back and forth for seven or eight minutes. Just when he didn't know where to go, he heard the doctor talking loudly, followed by the priest's deep voice, and then everyone's loud laughter.He cursed inwardly that they were probably arguing about "science and religion" as well.But when he opened the living room door, there was only one thing he noticed, and that was that he saw who was missing there.He found Commander O'Brien absent, as did Lady Margaret.
He left the dining room in boredom, and now he got up and left the living room with the same impatience, and went out into the corridor again.At this moment, there is only one thought in his mind, which haunts and tortures him, and he can't get rid of it: take good care of his daughter and keep her away from that good-for-nothing.He was walking towards Valentine's study at the back of the house, and unexpectedly ran into his daughter, who, pale and disdainful, passed him by.This became the second mystery.If she was with O'Brien, where did O'Brien go?If she wasn't with O'Brien, where had she been?Full of old age's suspicions, he was determined to solve the mystery.He groped around the dim rear of the house until he found a door through which the servants entered and exited the garden.At this time, a crescent moon was in the sky, as if using its sharp hook to tear up the accumulated dark clouds and sweep them away.The silvery moonlight was floating in every corner of the garden, and a tall figure in blue was striding across the grass and walking towards the study door; the moonlight outlined the man's face, and he was clearly Commander O'Brien.
He suddenly disappeared behind the French windows and entered the house.This really pissed off Galloway, and an indescribable rage burned in his chest.The blue and white scene in the garden just now, like a scenery on a stage, seemed to mock him with all the brutality and tenderness in it for wanting to fight it.The Irishman's graceful stride irritated him, as if he were no longer a father but the man's rival.The moonlight also drove him wildly, and he felt as if he were under a spell, and he could not help falling into the bard's garden, trapped in fairyland.He was going to cry out and get out of this stupid scene of self-love.So he hastened his pace, and pursued his enemy.Suddenly, he was disturbed by something under his feet, whether it was a tree root or a stone. He was annoyed at first, and then looked at his feet curiously.Immediately afterwards, the moon and the poplar tree witnessed an extraordinary scene: an old British diplomat ran across the grass without thinking, shouting wildly at the same time.
His hoarse roar led Dr. Simon, who was pale, frowning and wearing reflective glasses, to the study room, and he could clearly hear what the old nobleman was shouting.Lord Galloway yelled, "There's a corpse in the grass, a bloody corpse." O'Brien finally lost his mind completely.
"We must inform Valentine at once," said the doctor, after the visitor had breathlessly explained what he had seen. "Fortunately, he is here." While he was speaking, the big detective walked into the study, and he was attracted by the shouting.Originally, he wanted to show the friendship of a landlord and show a gentleman's concern to see if his guest or servant fell ill.When he heard that a bloody case happened here, he immediately changed his identity, looking energetic and serious about handling the case, because for him, no matter how sudden or terrible what happened, it was his duty.
"It's strange, gentlemen," he said, hurrying into the garden, "that I'm supposed to be looking for mysteries, and now this kind of thing has come uninvited, in my backyard. Where is it?" The mist began to diffuse into the garden, which made them a little disoriented.Under the guidance of the trembling Galloway, they finally saw the body stuck in the tall grass: the man looked tall and broad-shouldered.Since he was lying face down, they could only see his broad shoulders, dressed in black, his large head was almost bald, with only a strand or two of brown seaweed on it, and blood from under his face on his stomach Winding out, forming a red blot.
"At least," said Simon, in a low, characteristic tone, "he's not a guest at the dinner party."
"Examine, doctor," cried Valentin sharply, "he may still be alive."
The doctor bent down. "Still warm, but I'm afraid he's dead," he answered. "Help him up for me."
They lifted him carefully, about an inch (2.54 centimeters) off the ground, when they were horrified to see that all their doubts about whether he was alive or dead disappeared in an instant: his head rolled to the side.It is completely separate from the body.The murderer not only slit his throat, but managed to sever his neck.Valentine, too, was slightly shocked. "He was as strong as a gorilla when he was alive," he murmured.
Although Dr. Simon was used to scenes like caesarean section abortions, when he mentioned the head, he still felt terrified.There were some minor cuts on the neck and jaw, but the face was intact, dull, sallow, sunken in places, swollen in places, with a hooked nose and thick eyelids, like a fierce Roman emperor, Perhaps some traits of Chinese emperors loom.All the people present looked at it coldly without understanding.Generally speaking, there was nothing special about this person, but after everyone lifted him up, the bright white shirt on his chest was dyed a bright blood red, which looked a bit eye-catching.As Dr. Simon said, the man never showed up at the dinner party.But it is also possible that he wanted to go to the dinner party, since he was undoubtedly dressed for such an occasion.
Using hands and feet together, Valentin sprawled on the grass to examine carefully, his well-trained eyes covering every inch of grass in a 20-yard radius (about 18 meters).The doctor, who didn't know much about detective skills, also helped, while the English lord looked around randomly.They worked hard for a long time and found nothing, only a few branches that were broken or cut very short.Valentine picked up the branch, looked at it casually, and threw it away.
"A few branches," he said grimly. "A few branches, a beheaded stranger; that's all there is in the grass."
For a while, the scene was silent and eerie.Presently the restless Galloway cried out sharply:
"Who is that? Who is that man by the garden wall?"
In the hazy moonlight, a short figure with a huge head was walking towards them waddlingly.At first he looked like a little monster, but when he got closer, he turned out to be the little priest who was helpless. When everyone left the living room, he fell behind.
"Gentlemen," he said slowly, "there is no door leading out of this garden, have you forgotten?"
Valentine, as usual, frowned, which he could not help showing whenever he saw a priest.However, he knew in his heart that this sentence made sense. "You're right," he said. "Before we can figure out how he was killed, we're afraid we'll have to figure out how he got in in the first place. Now, listen, gentlemen. Without prejudice to my position and duty, we should all agree that this The matter cannot involve some distinguished guests, such as ladies, and a diplomat. If we decide that it is a criminal case, it must be handled in the same way as a criminal case. But before that, I can handle it at my discretion. I am Chief of Police, there are advantages to this public office. I can do it with a lot of fanfare and a way of concealing it. God forbid, before I mobilize my men to hunt down the murderer, I will first cleanse all my guests. Gentlemen, we No offense, but please stay here until noon tomorrow, I have enough bedrooms in my house for everyone to rest in. Simon, I think, you know where to find my man Ivan, he is in the hall. He can be relied on Tell him to find someone else to watch the door for him, and come to me at once. Lord Galloway, there is one thing that suits you best. Go and tell the ladies what happened here, and try to reassure them. Besides, they must not leave this place. house. I stayed here with Father Brown, looking at the body."
Valentin acted like an officer mobilized before the war. Everyone seemed to hear the charge, and quickly split up to complete the tasks assigned to them.Dr. Simon rushed to the hall to find Ivan, the private detective under the official detective.Galloway went to the drawing room and told the ladies the bad news as gently as possible, so that there would be no further fuss when everyone got back here.At the same time, a devout priest and an upright atheist stood at the two ends of the corpse, motionless. The two figures under the moonlight seemed to have turned into two statues, symbolizing their respective philosophical thinking on death.
Ivan, this reliable man with a scar on his face and a mustache, shot out of the house like an arrow from the string, and then galloped across the grass like a dog seeing its long-lost master.There was actually a detective story in his own courtyard, which made him excited, and his pale face was filled with vivid brilliance.He impatiently asked his master to allow him to view the scene, which made the master feel a little displeased.
"Well, if you insist, Ivan," said Valentine, "but quickly. We must go into the house and discuss the matter."
Ivan lifted the head, but almost dropped it.
"Wow," he gasped, "it's—oh, no, it's not, how could it be. Do you know this man, sir?"
"I don't know you," said Valentin dryly. "We'd better go into the house."
They carried the body into the study one after the other, put it on a sofa, and then they all walked to the living room.
The detective sat quietly at the desk without thinking, but his eyes were stern, like a judge sitting in an assize court.He quickly wrote a few strokes on the paper, and then asked, "Is everything here?"
"Monsieur Blaine is not here," said the Duchess of Mont-Saint-Michel, looking around.
"No," said Lord Galloway gruffly. "Neil O'Brien didn't come either. I think I saw the gentleman walking in the garden while the body was still warm."
"Ivan," said the detective, "see Commander O'Brien and Mr. Blaine. Mr. Blaine, I know, is smoking a cigar in the dining room; and Commander O'Brien, I think, is walking in the conservatory. I'm not so sure."
The loyal servant jumped out immediately, and Valentine didn't care what others had to say, and then showed a vigorous and resolute fighting spirit.
"Everyone here knows that a man died in the garden with his head cut off whole. Dr. Simon, you've looked into it. Do you think it takes a lot of force to cut a man's throat like that? Or, maybe As long as a sharp enough dagger can do it?"
"It's hard to do with a dagger, if I ask you," said the pale doctor.
"Have you ever wondered," continued Valentine, "what the murderer did with it?"
"If you mean modern weapons, I really haven't thought about it," said the doctor, raising his eyebrows in pain. "Cutting off a neck is not a simple matter. The knife edge we saw is very sharp. The murderer may have used a battle ax or the kind of ax used by executioners in the past, or it may be a two-handed sword that was popular in ancient times."
"Oh, my God!" the Duchess was almost mad, "but there are no two-handed swords and tomahawks here."
Valentin was still writing at his desk. "Tell me," he wrote, "is it possible that it was done with a French long saber?"
There was a light knock on the door.Everyone was startled suddenly, as if they heard a ghost calling the door.In the dead silence, Dr. Simon bit the bullet and said, "A saber—yes, I think it's possible."
"Thank you," said Valentine, "come in, Ivan."
Faithful Ivan pushed open the door and brought in Commander Neil O'Brien.Ivan finally noticed that he had gone for a walk in the garden again.
The devastated Irish officer stood at the door, disapproving. "What do you want from me?" He shouted dissatisfied.
"Sit down, please," said Valentin, in a calm tone, in a good mood. "Well, you don't have a sword. Where's your sword?"
"I put it on the table in the library," said O'Brien, in a moody, thicker Irish accent. "It's in the way, it makes people feel—"
"Ivan," said Valentine, "go to the library and fetch the commander's sword." His servant disappeared, and he added: "Lord Galloway said he saw you leave shortly before he found the body. The garden. What are you doing in the garden?"
The commander sat down on the chair without hesitation. "Ah," he cried in his pure Irish accent, "'look up' to the moon. I'm a 'scum' communing with nature."
As soon as the voice fell, the air in the room almost froze, and there was no sound for a long time.After a while like this, there was another soft and scary knock on the door just now.Ivan reappeared, walking in with an empty steel scabbard in his hand. "I can only find this," he said.
"Put it on the table," said Valentine, bowing his head.
There was a strange silence in the room, and everyone acted as if they were waiting for the death sentence for the murderer in the dock, and the Duchess no longer sighed weakly.The resentment in Lord Galloway's heart finally found an outlet, gradually calmed down, and his mind began to clear up.At this time, a voice that was unexpected by everyone broke the quiet atmosphere.
"I think I can tell you," cried Lady Margaret, her voice clear and slightly tremulous, as women do when they muster up the courage to speak in public. "Since he is so embarrassed, I will tell you what Mr. O'Brien was doing in the garden. He proposed to me, but I refused. I said, in my family situation, the only thing I could do was to show him respect. He Somewhat unhappy, as if he didn't take my respect seriously. I don't know," she added with a resigned smile, "if he cares now. Because what I'm giving him now is my respect. I swear he would never do that." kind of thing."
Lord Galloway approached his daughter slowly, warning her in a voice he thought was low. "Shut up, Maggie," he whispered, but his voice was loud. "Why are you taking cover for this guy? Where's his sword? Where's his damn horse—"
He stopped talking because his daughter was staring at him with that strange look that attracted everyone present.
"You old fool!" she snapped back at him, "what do you think you can prove? I tell you this man is innocent, and he's with me. Even if he's not, he's still with me. If he kills someone in the garden, who's more likely to see it, or at least know? Don't you hate Neil so much that you'd kill your own daughter—"
Mrs. Galloway screamed.All the others sat there, unable to help thinking of those terrible tragedies between the legendary lovers of long ago.The scene unfolded before their eyes: the haughty, pale-faced Scottish aristocrat and her lover, the Irish explorer, like a painting hanging in a dark old house.No one in the room spoke aloud, but beneath the surface of calm, everyone had their own old memories of murdered husbands and vicious adulterers.
In the eerie silence, a naive voice suddenly said, "Is that cigar very long?"
The people who were suddenly interrupted turned their heads to see who was so out of tune.
"I mean," said Father Brown, the little man in the corner, "I mean that cigar that Mr. Blaine smokes. It doesn't seem to be the usual length."
Although this was a side issue, Valentin had to sympathize, but at the same time with an expression of displeasure, he looked up.
"That's right," he snapped. "Ivan, go find Mr. Blaine again, and bring him here as soon as you find it."
The housekeeper had just closed the door and left when Valentine, as if completely transformed, turned to the girl with a sincere expression.
"Ms. Margaret," he said, "I'm sure everyone here is grateful and appreciative of you for your noble act of clarifying the Commander's conduct. There is, however, a loophole here. I know that Lord Galloway met you as you went from the study to the drawing-room, and that only a few minutes later he entered the garden and saw the Commander still walking there."
"You must remember," replied Marguerite, with a tinge of sarcasm in her tone, "that I have just rebuffed him, and how could we return hand in hand? He was a gentleman, after all; he did not rush into the house, He was charged with murder."
"During that time," said Valentin gravely, "he might really—"
The knock on the door rang again, and Ivan poked his head in.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, "Mr. Blaine has gone."
"Go!" cried Valentine, rising for the first time.
"Gone, flew away, evaporated," Ivan replied with his French humor. "His hat and coat were gone too, and something more astounding. I went outside to look for him and made a big discovery."
"What do you mean?" asked Valentine.
"I'll show you," said his servant, turning away, and returning with a cold-gleaming saber, still stained with blood on point and blade.Everyone present stared at it blankly, but the experienced Ivan continued quite calmly:
"I found," he said, "that the knife was thrown in the grass by the side of the road to Paris, about 50 yards from here. That is to say, it was thrown by Blaine as he fled. There."
People fell silent again, but this time something was different.Valentine took the saber for inspection, thought deeply, but his mind was obviously not on the knife, and then turned to O'Brien respectfully. "Commander," he said, "we are sure you will hand it over at any moment if the police need to examine it. In the meantime," he added, snapping his saber into its sheath, "permit me to return it for you."
This scene was like awarding honors in the army, and the audience couldn't help applauding.
For O'Brien, the gesture certainly marked a turning point in his circumstances.By the next morning, when he walked again in the mysterious garden against the dawn, his gloominess had disappeared, and he felt sincerely happy.Lord Galloway is a gentleman and has apologized to him.Lady Margaret, too, lowered her body and acted more like an approachable and gentle woman. When the two wandered among the ancient flower beds before breakfast, she expressed her apology to him meaningfully.Everyone felt a lot more relaxed and showed kindness, because although the mystery of death was yet to be solved, everyone had cleared all suspicion after learning that the strange millionaire had absconded to Paris in fear of crime.The devil was driven out of the house, or rather he exiled himself.
Even so, the incident remains a mystery.And when O'Brien slumped down on the garden bench next to Dr. Simon, the thoughtful scientist immediately brought up the subject.O'Brien didn't actively participate in the discussion, though, because he had better things on his mind.
"I can't say how much I'm interested in it," said O'Brien frankly, "especially now that the case seems to be out of the way. It's clear that Blaine hated this man for some reason and led him into the garden, using My sword killed him. Then he fled the scene, went to the city, and threw the sword on the way to escape. By the way, Ivan told me that the dead man had a dollar bill in his pocket. So it seems that he must Bryan's compatriots, that's enough to close the coffin. I don't see anything that doesn't make sense."
"Five puzzles," the doctor said calmly. "Like a chain puzzle. Don't get me wrong, I don't question Blaine's doing it. I think he's doing it when he escapes from here. It's just that he can't figure it out." How did he do it. First: Why kill with a big, heavy saber if a man can kill with a penknife and put it in his pocket? Second: Why is there no movement or shout heard Is it normal for one person to be silent when they see another wielding a machete? Third: A servant guards the front door all night; How did the murdered person enter the garden? Fourth: Considering the conditions just now, how did Brian get out of the garden?"
"And the fifth," said O'Brien, keeping his eyes on the English priest who was coming this way down the path.
"A small thing, I think," said the doctor, "but I think it's odd enough. When I first saw the severed head, I surmised that the killer had done it more than once. But on closer inspection, I saw that the location of the cut There are many traces of being chopped off, in other words, it was done after the head was chopped off. Could it be that Bryan hated this guy so much that he would kill his body under the moon to vent his hatred?"
"It's horrible!" O'Brien said, shivering involuntarily.
While they were chatting, little Father Brown came quietly to them, and with his peculiar shyness, quietly waited for them to finish.Then he said awkwardly:
"I want to say, sorry to bother you, I was ordered to report a message!"
"Message?" Simon repeated, eyes staring at him painfully behind his glasses.
"Yes, unfortunately," said Father Brown softly. "Another murder has occurred."
The two jumped to their feet, and the empty chair rocked back and forth.
"And what's even more bizarre," the priest continued, staring at the peony flower with dull eyes. "A disgusting thing, another beheaded. They found a second head, still bleeding, by the river, a few yards from the road Blaine took when he fled to Paris. So They speculated that he—”
"My God!" O'Brien yelled. "Is Blaine a paranoid?"
"Americans are killing each other," said the priest, indifferently.Then he added: "They told you to go and look in the library."
Commander O'Brien followed the others to the autopsy, feeling extremely sick inside.As a soldier, he hated this kind of backstabbing. When will this kind of beheading and killing of corpses end?One was beheaded, and now another.So (he told himself, not without bitterness), the proverb "Two heads are better than one" is true, but "Two heads are better than one" makes no sense.As he passed through the study, he could not help but almost fell over with a startling resemblance.On Valentine's desk, there is a colorful picture of the bloody third head, and it is the head of Valentine himself.He looked again and saw a section of the nationalist newspaper "Guillotine", which published a weekly cartoon showing the rolling eyes and writhing bodies of his political opponents after they were executed. Langtin was a prominent figure against clericalism.But O'Brien was Irish, and if he committed a crime, it was inadvertent; and he loathed this barbaric game that belonged exclusively to the French intelligentsia.He felt Paris as a whole, from the grotesque style of the Gothic cathedrals to the vulgar caricatures of the press.He also remembers the great jokes that raged during the French Revolution.He sees the whole city as a manifestation of some hideous energy, from the bloody Valentine's sketch on the table to the grinning monstrosity atop Notre-Dame de Paris's countless towers.
The library was long, low, and dark, save for the reddish morning light that filtered in through the lowered shutters.Valentine and his servant Ivan were waiting for them on the other side of the long table, and on the slightly sloping table lay the corpse, which looked enormous in the twilight.The huge black-clothed body and sallow-faced head found in the garden remained largely unchanged.Another human head, picked up from the water plants by the river this morning, was still dripping water.Valentine's men were still in the water looking for a second body.Father Brown was not at all as sentimental as O'Brien. He stepped forward quickly, blinking and examining the other head carefully.With the morning light coming in, he saw a mass of wet white hair covering most of his bloody face; when this head was thrown into the river, its face must have hit a tree or a stone, ugly and purple , Looking like a criminal.
"Good morning, Commander O'Brien," Valentine greeted cordially. "I'm afraid you've heard of Blaine doing the same thing again?"
Father Brown was still stooping to examine the white-haired head, and before he lifted his head he said:
"I reckon that this head was also chopped off by Bryan."
“嗯，看来这种情况已在情理之中，”瓦朗坦手插在口袋里说，“和另外那个死法一样。离另外那个人被杀现场只有几码。用的是同一件武器，就是我们知道他拿走的那件。”
“是啊，是啊，我知道，”布朗神父恭谨地回答。“可是，你要知道，我怀疑布雷恩是否真有本事砍掉这颗脑袋。”
“为什么不会呢？”西蒙医生不明就里，盯着他问。
“哦，医生，”神父抬起头，眨着眼说，“一个人能把自己的头砍下来吗？这我可不知道。”
奥布莱恩顿时感到嗡的一下，头昏脑胀；但医生则出于职业的敏感急忙跑上前，拨开了遮挡了面部的湿漉漉的白发。
“噢，毫无疑问，这是布雷恩，”神父平静地说。“他左耳上缺了一小片。”
侦探一直注视着神父，双眼炯炯有神，嘴唇紧闭，此刻他忍不住尖刻地说：“你倒是挺了解他的，布朗神父。”
“当然，”神父接上话茬。“我们已经交往了几个星期了。他正考虑皈依我们教会。”
瓦朗坦的眼睛里几乎迸出火星，他紧握双拳，大踏步走向神父。“这么说，也许，”他火冒三丈，极尽讥讽地说，“也许他正想着把他全部积蓄都送给你的教堂？”
“也许他是这么想的，”布朗淡淡地回答，“有可能是这样。”
“如果是这样的话，”瓦朗坦面露可怕的微笑，大声说，“你可能确实知道了他的许多内情，他的生活还有他的——”
奥布莱恩指挥官伸手抓住瓦朗坦的胳膊。“别再说这种诋毁人的废话，瓦朗坦，”他说，“不然就不会只有一把剑指着你。”
但瓦朗坦（在神父沉稳、谦卑的眼光盯视下）已经恢复常态。“好吧，”他立刻说，“大家自己的观点可以放一放。诸位先生已承诺不离开这里，你们的承诺依然有效；你们必须自觉遵守——还要互相监督。伊凡会在这里告诉你们任何想知道的事；我必须去办正事，向当局汇报情况。我们不能继续沉默了。我会在书房写报告，如果有什么消息就去那儿找我。”
“有什么新消息吗，伊凡？”在警察局长大步走出房间时，西蒙医生问。
“只有一件新鲜事，我想，先生，”伊凡说着，皱起那张苍老、灰白的脸。“不过，那件事倒也挺重要。你在草地上看到的那个老家伙，”他指着那个一身黑的庞大身躯和发黄的头，甚至不屑于假装心存敬意。“我们总算查出他是谁了。”
“太好了！”吃惊的医生急忙问，“那他是谁呢？”
“他叫阿诺德·贝克尔，”这位替补侦探说，“不过，他有很多化名。他属于那种四处游荡的无赖，据说去了美国，也许因此跟布雷恩结了仇。我们不怎么关注他，因为他主要在德国活动。当然，我们跟德国警察保持着联系。不过，诡异的是，他还有个孪生兄弟，叫路易斯·贝克尔，我们打过很多交道。实际上，就在昨天我们把他送上了断头台。喔，先生们，这事确实有些蹊跷，当我看到那个家伙趴在草地上的时候，我就觉着平生头一次真的见了鬼。要不是我亲眼看着路易斯·贝克尔上断头台，我肯定会说横尸草地的那个人就是路易斯·贝克尔。当然，我很快就想起来他在德国还有个孪生兄弟，然后就顺着这条线索——”
滔滔不绝的伊凡终于收了口，理由非常充分，因为没人在听他唠叨。指挥官和医生都盯着布朗神父，只见他身体僵直地跳到地上，双手紧紧捂住太阳穴，好像他突然感到头疼欲裂一样。
“停！停！停！”他喊叫着，“先别说了，我想明白了一半儿。老天啊，能否助我一臂之力？我的大脑能否再做一次努力，让我看清一切？上天助我！我曾经很善于思考。我曾经能解读全部著作的任何一页。我的头要裂开，还是要找出完整答案？我明白了一部分，但只是一部分。”
他双手紧紧抱着头，僵硬地站在那里，似乎在忍受着某种思想或者祈祷的折磨，另外那三个人在经历了狂乱的12个小时之后，只能眼睁睁地盯着刚出现的奇特场面。
当布朗神父终于松开并放下双手后，他们看到一张如同幼童那样鲜活而严肃的脸。他长吁一声，说道：“还是快点儿说出来，尽快解决这个问题吧。看这里，这是能让你们相信全部真相的最便捷的途径。”他转向医生。“西蒙医生，”他说，“你脑子很好使，我听说你今天早晨就这件事提出了五个疑问。好吧，请你再问一遍，我会给出答案。”
西蒙满脸狐疑和好奇，夹鼻眼镜从鼻子上滑落，但他立刻答道：“呃，第一个疑问是，你已经知道了，为什么一个人非要用马刀杀死另一个人，而不是用短剑？”
“用短剑无法斩首，”布朗冷静地说，“而对这宗谋杀来说，绝对需要斩首。”
“为什么？”奥布莱恩好奇地问。
“下一个问题是什么？”布朗神父问。
“哦，这个人为什么没有大喊大叫，或别的什么？”医生问：“军刀出现在花园里一定很不寻常。”
“树枝，”神父阴郁地说，然后转身冲着窗户，那里正好对着凶杀现场。“没人明白树枝的含义。为什么树枝会出现在那片草地（看着它），远离任何树的位置？它们不是折断掉下来的；是被砍断的。杀人者用军刀耍了花招吸引住敌人，并向他演示，他能否把悬空的树枝砍断。然后，当他的敌人弯腰去看结果时，猛力挥刀，无声无息地将敌人的头砍掉。”
“哦，”医生慢条斯理地说，“那倒也说得通。但下面两个问题会难住任何人。”
神父仍站在那里望着窗外，仔细寻找着，等待着什么。
“你们都知道整个花园被围得水泄不通，”医生继续说。“可是，这个陌生人是怎样进的花园呢？”
矮个子神父头也没回就说：“花园里根本就没有陌生人。”
大家沉默不语，然后，突然有人咯咯地笑了起来，透着孩子气的笑声缓解了紧张气氛。布朗的说法太荒谬了，伊凡忍不住公开嘲弄他。
“噢！”他喊道，“难道说我们昨晚根本没有往沙发上抬一具肥大的尸体吗？我寻思着，他并没有进花园？”
“进花园？”布朗机械地重复着。“没有，并没有完全进去。”
“岂有此理，”西蒙大叫，“要么进花园，要么没进。”
“未必如此，”神父微微一笑说。“下一个问题是什么，医生？”
“我觉着你有病，”西蒙大声说，“如果你愿意听，我就说出下个问题。布雷恩是怎么从花园出去的？”
“他并没有出花园，”神父仍然望着窗外说。
“没有出花园？”西蒙简直要被气炸了。
“没完全出去，”布朗神父说。
西蒙挥舞着拳头，用他的法式逻辑激烈地申辩。“一个人只能出了花园，或者没出花园，”他气得直叫。
“不总是这样的，”布朗神父说。
西蒙医生再也忍不住了，一跺脚站了起来。“我没时间听你胡说八道，”他气愤地说。“如果你连一个人在墙里和墙外都分不清楚，我就不会再跟你费口舌了。”
“医生，”神父非常和蔼地说，“我们的关系一直很好。看在我们是老朋友的份上，先别走，告诉我你的第五个问题。”
很不耐烦的西蒙一屁股坐在了门口那个椅子上，简略地说：“头部和肩部被砍的痕迹很奇特。似乎是在人死后干的。”
“没错，”纹丝未动的神父说，“他故意这样做，就是要误导你们得出一个简单的错误结论，而你们确实中了圈套。如此做法就为了让你们想当然地以为那颗头与躯体属于同一个人。”
在盖尔人奥布莱恩的大脑深处，远古人类臆造的妖魔鬼怪开始蠢蠢欲动，让他惊骇不已。他眼前浮现出蛮荒时代的形象，骑马的男人和打渔的妇女纷至沓来，杂乱无章。有个声音，在他祖先来到世上之前便已存在的某种远古回音，似乎在对他耳语：“远离那个树上长着两种果子的恐怖花园。避开那个死了双头人的邪恶花园。”然而，虽然他灵魂深处仍然潜藏着本民族古老、象征性的可耻形象，但他已然被法国式智识同化的大脑，仍保持着足够的警觉和清醒，与其他人一样虽心存怀疑但却密切关注着这个奇特的神父。
布朗神父终于转过身，背靠窗户站着，他的面孔仍处在暗影中；即便如此，他们也能辨识出他灰白的脸色。尽管如此，他说起话来相当清醒，似乎根本不在意激荡着奥布莱恩内心的盖尔人魂灵。
“先生们，”他说，“你们在花园里发现的不是贝克尔的尸体，更不是什么陌生人的尸体。面对西蒙的冷静客观推理，我仍然要强调贝克尔只是部分在场。看这里！”（他指着那具神秘的尸身）“你们今生今世根本就没见过这个人。有谁曾经见过他吗？”
他迅速把那个无名氏泛黄的秃头推到一边，然后在它在原来的位置放上有浓密头发的那颗头。于是，一个完整、严丝合缝、毋庸置疑的朱利尔斯·K·布雷恩展现在众人面前。
“谋杀者，”布朗静静地继续说，“将他的敌人砍头后，隔墙将那把剑扔到远处。但他很聪明，不仅仅把剑扔出去了。他也把那颗人头扔了出去。然后，他不过是将另一个人头安在了尸身上，于是（如同他坚持要独自探寻）你们全都把他想象成了一个完全不同的人。”
“安上另一个头！”奥布莱恩瞪大眼睛说。“别的什么头？花园草丛里可不会长出头来，对吗？”
“不会，”布朗神父的声音有些沙哑，低头看着他的靴子，“但有个地方能。断头台的筐里会生出人头，就在发生谋杀前不到1小时的时候，警察局长阿里斯蒂德·瓦朗坦就站在那个筐的旁边。喔，我的朋友们，在你们把我撕碎之前，再让我多说一分钟。如果一个人因某种可争辩的理由而发疯也算诚实的话，瓦朗坦称得上是个诚实的人。但你们怎么就没从他冰冷的灰色眼睛里看出来，他已经疯了！为了打破他所称的对'十字架'的迷信，他会做任何事。他一直在为之战斗，为之向往，现在又为此进行谋杀。布雷恩的几百万至今已散发给了大批教派，却作用甚微，未能打破世事的平衡。但瓦朗坦听到私下传言，说布雷恩像众多心不在焉的怀疑论者一样，正在向我们靠拢；这样一来事情就变样啦。布雷恩将会大手散财，给囊中羞涩又好斗的法国教会添砖加瓦；他会出资支持六家《断头台》之类宣扬国家主义的报纸。这场战斗本来达到了某个平衡点，但这个狂热分子情急之下便铤而走险。他决意要摧毁这个百万富翁，他行事的方式也很巧妙，一个伟大的侦探在犯下平生唯一罪案的时候，也要让它成为一项杰作，这才不负众望。他假称要进行犯罪学研究要出贝克尔被砍掉的头，装在他的公务箱里拿回了家。他与布雷恩辩论了最后一次，盖勒韦勋爵没有听到最后那段；他没有说服布雷恩，于是就把他带到封闭的花园，讨论剑术，用树枝和军刀做示范，接着——”
刀疤脸伊凡蹦了起来。“你这个疯子，”他大喊：“你现在就去见我的主人，如果我带你——”
“正好，我本来就要去见他，”布朗心情沉重地说：“我必须让他坦白，所有诸如此类的事情。”
众人拥推着愁容满面的布朗，好像他是人质或祭品，一起冲进瓦朗坦异常安静的书房。
伟大的侦探坐在椅子上，他显然过于专注，没注意到喧闹着闯进来的众人。他们静静地站了一会儿，医生发觉他优雅、挺直的腰板有些不大对劲儿，他急忙跑上前去。他碰了一下，同时瞥见瓦朗坦的胳膊肘处有个小药盒，瓦朗坦坐在椅子上，已经气绝身亡。自杀者茫然面对着世界，表情中流露出的不仅仅是的自豪。
Notes: .
Notes: .