Chapter 10 chapter Ten

Celia - looks the same as last night, even in white.Celia—the imaginative, well-featured face was completely devoid of any emotion, not even anger, and looked stunningly beautiful.Her gray eyes - pinprick black pupils perhaps dilated a little - looked intently at Thorin. But just behind Celia... Standing behind her, holding her elbow with one hand is a tall man, a mysterious age between young and middle age, a confident man, grinning, wearing a gray suit— — well-cut and trendy, in a world that can only be achieved by power and status — and wavy hair the color of a lion's mane. As if telepathically alerted, Thorin turned to face them.

"Derek!" he yelled. "What the hell are you doing here?" (Finally, Horton thought, Mr. Derek Horsgoal! But he didn't need Thorin to ask for it. The hair is down. Ugh, you pig!) Anyone would have told him that he had wronged Mr. Heskart completely in this matter.Everyone knew that Mr. Horsgaard was a good man, and that everything he did was done with good intentions. "What are you doing here?" Mr. Horsgoal repeated in a thick and confident voice. "Oh, I'm everywhere," he smiled. "Actually, I'm here with Dr. Fell. We're all staying at the Warrior Hotel."

Although he was laughing, Mr. Horsgoal kept staring at Thorin with ulterior motives, which meant a lot. "Shorin!" "Ok?" "Scandal must not be caused," Mr. Horsgoal said slowly, with the same meaningful tone. "Hey, listen to me, Derek! They're talking about murder!" "I know." "That--!" "Remember the Metsä by-election?" Horn could not see Thorin's face.But he felt a change in the broad back, as if Thorin wanted to cup his hands to cover his eyes. "There's one thing," said Mr. Horsigold, still firmly supporting Celia's elbow, "that a public figure must never do that. He must never make himself ashamed."

Thorin stood motionless for a moment.Then, with warmth and affection in his voice, he turned to Silia. "My dear Celia!" he reproached. "My dear girl! You shouldn't have come downstairs to-night! Here!" Thorin hurried aside and pulled up an easy chair, its castors creaking horribly on the planks and long brown carpet.Although when he touched Xi Liya, she shrank as if she was burned, but she was frightened, so she was pushed into the chair and sat down obediently. "If you keep being so disobedient," he added, laughing reproachfully, "Uncle Thorin will give you a good lesson. By the way, did I tell you, I brought a special bottle of Vintage red wine for you? Never mind where I got it. Shhhhh!" Thorin winked. "You won't find it in London anyway."

Celia looked up at him helplessly. "Thorin," she said, "I don't understand you!" "I'm the only family, my dear. I'm an irresistibly charming young man. But why don't you understand me?" "Sometimes you growl to see my blood. But then you—you want to pour red wine for me." "Forgiving and forgiving," Thorin shrugged. "That's my motto. After all, Celia, we did raise the flag of truce and live in the same house for six months." "Yes! But that's only because—" Celia stopped. "Why did you come down tonight, Celia?"

"I have an appointment with Dr. Phil." Thorin looked horrified. "You know Dr. Phil?" "Well, yes. Very familiar." At this moment, Celia's eyes met Horton for the first time, and a strong emotion crossed the gap between the two—just like last night, but she blushed and turned away body. "I think," swallowed Celia, "everybody here knows each other. Except—Mr. Derek Horsgaard...Sir Donal Horton." The temperature of emotions rose sharply again. "It's a pleasure to meet you!" declared Mr. Hesgoth, with a smile showing the gleam of his teeth.Up close, the face beneath the wavy hair appears older, harder, shrewder. "Don't you mind, you know, I'm everywhere. Celia and I have been friends for a long time. We had a very good time."

(oh yeah?) "She just told me about you," Mr. Horsgoal went on, enthusiastically. "I just went to her room to talk to her." "yes." "I was thinking," said Mr. Horsgoal persistently, "meeting you is like meeting a character in some play. Like a mysterious stranger." "Strange," said Horton, "I felt the same way about you just now." "Really, old man? How to say?" "You," said Horton, "are playing the Devil, opposite Thorin's Faust." Hesgo narrowed his eyes. "You're really observant."

"We are all committed to observing the subtleties, how? Because of the murder?" "Oh, this one!" Mr. Hesgo rejected it with a very kind smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this nonsense soon, whether it's suicide or murder, until Dr. Fell investigates. Then the birds will be singing again. Just wait and see. In fact, if I'm allowed to stand before you ..." "Hey!" A thunderous scolding rumbled. It was Dr. Fell, who also reached for his forked cane, tapping the metal head on the floor.He towered over the crowd, swung his head from side to side like a pirate, and snorted fiercely from the nose on the bandit's mustache.

"Sir," he said, "I am quite satisfied to hear that the birds are singing again. I am equally satisfied (by God, I am satisfied) that the apparent harmony has been restored. Now we sit down In the comfortable window room, all kinds of opinions are floating around. Please control your emotions, otherwise there will be no results." "Just now," Celia said, "you were questioning witnesses just now!" "I just want to question one witness." "Oh," Thorin urged, "who is it?" "You, Granny, are a bitch," Dr. Phil said.

All his pirate air was gone.He leaned forward, resting his left elbow on the table. "Up there," Dr. Phil raised his forked cane slightly toward the ceiling, "a woman died. The manner of death was carefully planned so that under the circumstances (I repeat, under the circumstances) any one Physicians are fooled into thinking it was a natural death. We are currently under the medicine cabinet with — or without — the poison bottle.” "Let go!" Celia yelled. "No," Thorin said gently. Dr. Phil didn't listen. "There was a critical moment of almost three hours—from when you all went to bed at 11:30 to 2:15 when Dr. Shepton first arrived—and Mr. Marsh was apparently the only one who saw his wife, touched her, approached She, or within range of his hearing her voice.

"If he tells the truth, we can reconstruct the case. But if—as seems possible—the brilliant Mr. Horsgaard has persuaded him to remain silent..." When Mr. Horsgoal made a startled protest, Thorin immediately walked around the table from behind Celia's chair. "I promised to tell you what happened that night," he declared. "So, by God, I'm going to say it now!" "Wonderful! Awesome!" said Dr. Phil.He put his elbows on the table and pointed at Thorin. "Please recall the scene again. The four of you came back from Locke's house. What happened after that?" "Uh, let's go to bed..." "No, no, no!" Dr. Fell groaned, grimacing horribly and snapping his fingers. "More details, please. I suppose you opened the front door and hurried upstairs?" "Silia is. I think the murder game spoiled her mood. I don't think much of it myself, to be honest." "What about the rest?" "Margaux and Derek and I walked through this long gallery," Thorin said with a movement of his neck, "and up the little steps leading to the blue living room. There was a big fire and a whiskey bottle Mason jars. Room—the room is decorated with holly leaves, but we're going to wait until the next day to put up the Christmas tree." Over the lighted table between Thorin and Dr. Fell, Horton could clearly see the faces of the others. Sir Danforth Locke - Lofty but alert.Dorothy - flushed as if choking, so distraught by recent events that she could not speak even if she wanted to.Derek Horsgoal - lounging against the window wall next to him.In addition, the most important thing is Xilia. What the hell is wrong with Celia?Why did she refuse to see him?Why was she refusing to see him even now?Why radiate that radiance that we can literally feel in the ones we love, and spit out a message that says, "Go away! Please go away!" However…… Something was weaving, brewing—Dr. Fell bewitched Thorin.A grotesque image was created—Kesva's gallery was so dark, so cold, so windy, the dead Margaux in her silver gown, and her two companions in tuxedos with white ties, the three walked up the stairs to the blue sky. a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey in a color-paneled room. "Well, Mr. Marsh? And then?" "I turn on the radio. It's singing Christmas carols." "There is a very important question, please don't take offense. Are you drunk?" "No! We were all just... oh yes! That's right! I was drunk." "How drunk?" "Not so drunk, not so much. Just hazy vision, sleepy, and hating everything. Strong wine," Thorin said vaguely, "used to make me happy before. Not so much, now." "Where's your wife? I mean that night?" "Margaux drank a lot, but it didn't seem to affect her much—always. I mean—before." "Where's Mr. Horsker?" "Old Derek was pretty much drunk. He started carrying Hamlet and stuff. I remember him saying he hoped he didn't catch fire at night because nobody could wake him up." "and then?" "That's it. Margo slammed down the glass: 'You two don't look very happy, but I do. Let's go to bed, shall we?' So we went to bed." "As far as I know, the two rooms where Celia Devohe and Mr. Hesgo sleep are not close to your suite?" "Yes. They're on the other side of the house." "Do you remember anything else that happened?" Dr. Phil's loud voice became softer and more hypnotic. "Think! Think about it!" "I remember hearing Aube lock the front and rear doors and windows. It made those bolts rattle like hell." "Nothing else? When you and your wife arrived at your room? And then?" "Margaux opened her bedroom door and went in. I opened mine and went in. That's it." "Did you talk at the time?" "No, no, no! Not a word!" Sorin isn't just telling, he's reliving.He was staring intently on the shaky footsteps of the night. "and then?" "I feel terrible," Thorin said. "It's so annoying to be drunk and have to take off your evening clothes. You have to pull off your collar, you have to pull off your shirt. You bump into things. I staggered away in my pajamas." Go into the bathroom and brush your teeth." "Go into the bathroom. Is the door to your wife's bedroom on the other side of the bathroom open or closed?" "Closed and locked from her end." "How do you know it's locked?" "It's always been like this." "You brushed your teeth. Then?" "I went back to my bedroom and slammed the door and went to bed. But that's the trouble. I'm not drunk enough." "Go on!" "It wasn't one of those nights when you're rocking in bed and you're flying off to Nowhere—a deep sleep. I just dozed off, then half-dreamed, then dozed off again. Totally groggy. But I'm sure Fell asleep because there seemed to be a blank period. Then something woke me up." "What woke you up? Think! Was it the noise?" "I don't know," Thorin shook his head in his dream. "Then I thought I heard Margaux's voice, as if humming and moaning, calling for help from afar." "Keep talking." "I sat up and turned on the light. My sick head hurt again, but I was much more awake. The clock by the bed said two o'clock. The groaning sound—terrible. I crawled out of bed and opened the bathroom door." (Not a single person in the window room moves, or even seems to breathe.) "Is the bathroom light on?" "No, but I did. The door to Margaux's bedroom was wide open. Oh yes! Margaux took a bath while I was asleep." "She took a bath?" "Yes. There's a towel hanging over the bathtub, and the floor is wet. God, I'm so angry, the floor is wet, and I'm barefoot! I turn back and put on my slippers and walk in. It's like a It was very quiet. I looked into Margot's room." Dr. Phil's face and body didn't move a single muscle or fold.His raised elbow and pointing hand remained steady.Yet his eyes were darting here and there, circling unsettlingly furtively, as if he were remembering, summing up.But the magic has not been broken.Thorin stepped back into the night, their voices thickening. "I looked into her bedroom. The light wasn't on, but I could tell she wasn't in there." "Are the curtains drawn?" "No, that's why I could tell she wasn't there. There was a little light coming in, starlight or something. The mattress was flat and untouched. It was dead silent, and it was freezing as hell. Then the moaning and crying started again, very loud. It just didn't scare me to death. I saw the light coming from under the door to her living room." "Go on!" Thorin spoke loudly and quickly. "I opened the door. It's so warm in there, and there's a fire in the mantel. And all the wall lamps are on. And right down the middle of the room, there's one of those padded chaise longues, with a table beside it." "Go on!" "Margaux lay on her back, slightly sideways. Her lips squirmed. I said, 'Margo!' but she just groaned and writhed, her eyes closed. On the back of the recliner - she's not light - and her head fell forward. I shook her, but it didn't work. Then I got really scared. I rushed back to the bathroom." "Was the poison bottle in the medicine cabinet?" "No, it's gone. Margaux must be..." Dead silence. Thorin realized what he had said.His voice paused in mid-air, stammering and repeating slowly: "Must—yes," and then died away.He stood there, jerked awake but frozen, his eyes dull and glazed. Dr. Fell let his arms drop to the table. "So," said Dr. Fell, without satisfaction or even intonation, "that the medicine cabinet was filled with little brown bottles labeled poison. As Miss DeVoho said." Still no one moves.A strange and frightening numbness persisted among the group around the table—at least one of them was holding his breath until he was about to suffocate.Among the portraits in the Long Gallery, they seem to be in a void. "You play tricks," Thorin said.His voice rose. "Dirty shameless trick!" "I didn't," Dr. Phil retorted. He lowered his forked cane across the glass surface of the table. "Sir," Dr. Phil went on, "I have my own reasons for being extremely suspicious of you. If you knew about the brown bottle in the medicine cabinet and found out that your wife was dying, your first impulse would be to Just rushing back to find the bottle. I'm - heck - just leading the way. Got it?" Danforth Locke rose to his feet with unconcerned grace. "I think it's getting late," said he. "Dorothy, we must go." Celia stood up with tears in her eyes. "I don't mean to show you off, Thorin," she said, "but as long as you live, you must never, never, never go around telling anyone that I'm crazy." Celia's whole attitude changed.She looked at Horton, tried not to shed tears, and stretched out her hand to him. "Little Tang!" Celia said.Then he came to her side, held her hand tightly, it was almost painful, and looked down at her eyes like he was under the tree next to the park last night. "Listen, for God's sake," Thorin cried. The sound of urgent pleading was so strong that everyone turned around involuntarily. "I have to answer that," Thorin said through gritted teeth, "I have the right to answer," he swallowed. "I lied about that little thing, yes! But I think it's justified. I..." "It's such a small place!" repeated Horton.He couldn't even hate Thorin now, he could only look at him in awe. "You know, Thorin, you are effervescently beautiful! I think you're telling the truth about everything else!" "Yes, that's right!" "It's useless, Thorin. Celia mentioned that Margot changed her clothes in the middle of the night, and she took off her silver dress for a black velvet dress. You said it was an illusion from beginning to end. But we have an eyewitness who can prove that Margot is indeed Changed clothes." "Oh?" Thorin asked coolly. "It seems that you feel that you are as weak as everyone else. Who is this perjury?" "Your strongest supporter, Dorothy Locke." Dorothy let out an exclamation.Immediately her father stomped calmly in front of her chair, as if trying to block everyone's view. "I see, Dorothy, that we ought to be going." Aube's footsteps creaked along the gallery earlier—Aube was in a hurry—then she bent forward and hurriedly whispered to Dr. Fell, but because of the lightness of her movements, everyone still waited until Dr. Fell exclaimed in a hurry. It was only when she stood up and put the long envelope in her pocket that she realized her presence. "Oh God! O Dionysus!" Dr. Fell murmured. "A date! I've forgotten all about it. The sexton must have been drunk, I see. Er—my dear Horton!" "Ok?" Dr. Phil was going crazy at the moment, unable to concentrate at all, his eyes were darting around, very depressed. "My figure may be quite magnificent," he said, "but it's not very suitable to bend over and touch the floor." He fumbled for his glasses. "My hat and another walking stick seem to have fallen off the table. .If you don't mind? . . . Ah! Thanks. Yes. That's better! Mind you, I have an urgent appointment." Then he rumbled out of the window room, leaning on two crutches for support.Everyone was astonished when it happened suddenly, and even Locke protested. "Dr. Phil!" "Ok?" "Please tell me," Locke asked, his voice weak with anger, "is this interrogation over?" "It's over. Eh. Um. Not really over," Dr. Fell shook his head. "But I think, you know, it's pretty clear." "Clear!" Locke said. "In some respects, yes. You said that you can solve our problems, and you have solved most of our problems. But what are you going to do now?" "'Do'?" "Our friend Marsh," said Locke, "has been caught telling at least one deadly lie.? What are you going to do?" "Do?" Dr. Phil repeated again, suddenly becoming fierce. "God bless the police, what can I do? This man is 100% innocent." Horton felt—not for the first time or the last time in this matter—that he became delirious. "Innocent?" Locke said. "What is innocent?" "Mr. Marsh," replied Dr. Fell, "didn't treat or mistreat his wife at all. He didn't drive her to a dead end. And he didn't kill her." Celia's hand was held in Horton's, first tightened and then went limp.She pulled her hand away and pressed her face tightly with both hands.Celia began to sway back and forth without saying a word, and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Then something almost worse happened.Mr. Derek Horsgaard, who had been idle until now, passed a quiet, happy smile across his face.He glanced at Thorin, and the glance was as clear as black and white: "You see? Is there no trouble if I don't tell you? I arranged it." "Dr. Phil," said Horton, "there is so much evidence, but you still insist that Celia is sane—is she sane?" "For God's sake, no," boomed Dr. Fell, "of course she's sane!" He tapped the metal caps of the two walking sticks to the floor, and for the first time looked straight at Celia, with a mixture of tenderness and kindness in his eyes, but also anxiety. "While Mr. Thorin Marsh would never believe it," said Dr. Fell, "there's nothing insane in the girl's nature. I just have to make sure (Damn it, I hope you understand!) that she doesn't ..." "Nothing?" Locke said sharply. "Sir," said Dr. Phil, gasping loudly, "I have an appointment." He spun around, his massive cloak billowing behind him, and stomped his way to the stairs leading to the studio.

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