Chapter 16 Chapter 16 Shoe Suspicion

He still couldn't help feeling guilty in his heart. Even during the adventure, he still couldn't resist the temptation, longing to go in for a glass of beer. Hugh walked into the front yard and passed through the low door.The house smelled heavily of beer, earth, and old wood.He judged that the walls were at least four feet thick.No one knows when or why the building was built, except that the two monastery-like buildings in the front yard were used as stables, filled with abandoned hay carts and straw.There were more people inside than he expected, comfortably drunk, in a trance, stumbling through the narrow corridors.Through the window he saw a room on either side, with a bar behind it, and Spinley turned into the room on the right.

Huge lowered his head and walked through the corridor to the bar behind.Two oil lamps blackened the damp wall.Most of the people were gathered in one corner of the room, someone was playing the piano, and two loud voices were arguing over a song.Hugh entered the room with only a few high-backed benches and long tables across the rafters; above the polished brass ornamental benches.Dirty oilcloths in different patterns are subsidized on the walls.A clock without hands sat on a wooden mantelpiece; and portraits in Highland costumes crammed into dim corners became flypaper.Prince Albert looked displeased.Not far from him two or three dignified old men in caps crowded around a table, waving tin goblets when they argued, stretching their necks and twisting in their brass collar ties.One of them said, "Don't be a goddamn fool now!" Turning angrily, he slammed his glass down on the table. "Tell you, that Princess Marie was killed! If the artillerymen aren't imprisoned, look, God help me, I'll—" Touch!Draining a mug of beer, he glared at his opponent.

The pudgy waitress was trying to pass a tray of wine glasses, but didn't know what to do.She kept turning her head to avoid the layers of second-hand smoke, and she had to greet people with a blank smile from time to time."Excuse me, please!" she yelled at the provocateurs, looking for help at her boss, a handsome man in shirt-sleeves whose wary eyes never rested for a moment.He stood behind the bar next to the large and small beer containers, arms folded; with a jerk of the handle, he filled a full glass of beer.When Du Nuofan approached the bar, he took a step forward. Xiu Ge changed his mind: "Whiskey and soda water." His eyes fixed on a shiny copper plate on the side shelf without moving.Although it was a little dirty from the smoke, he could still see the door in the corridor and the reflection of another room through the copper plate.Spinley was going in that direction.The room was more like a living room; Spencer was sprawled loose and languid on a tassel-embellished chair.

Xiu Ge vaguely heard the whispers around him - "that guy", "murderer", "Shhh, keep your voice down!" overshadowed the sound of the piano playing.It didn't take long for the news to spread throughout the bar.The three old men drank their beer, like a domino effect, looking around... Pour the soda water into the cup, staring at the copper plate out of the corner of his eyes, Huge quickly turned his face away from the copper plate and the wall.Spinley stood up and strode from the room to the hallway, across the hallway to the bar, looking pissed off.People quickly looked away, pretending to continue drinking their wine.A compelling voice chanted, "An 'Old John, Willie'!"

Spinley walked towards the bar: "May I," he said in an unattainable voice, reminiscent of Moer Standish, "Sir, can we order wine here?" Part of the uproar was reduced to a whisper, and people pricked up their ears.Spencer was unaware that his dignified manner had become the focus of absurdity.The tavernkeeper stepped forward. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm really sorry! They're paying so much attention to you, sir! Please, sir?" "I'd like a brandy," said Spencer, coldly touching his tie, "if you have any. I'll have the best. Bring a whole bottle, and another beer. Would you like one?"

"Oh! Thank you. It's all right." Spencer couldn't have just seen him.Huge couldn't help thinking...he decided to turn around.The Americans paid no attention to him.Filling up a full glass of brandy, he drank it straight, and then took a sip of beer.He went on to pour another glass.The boss opened a bottle of home-brewed beer and spoke in a relaxed tone. "Mr. Trevors, the weather is fine today." His eyes were alert to observe his reaction. "Ok." "It's warmer, isn't it." The boss said in a positive tone.The bottle cap hissed, the boss frowned and poured the wine slowly, "Sir, I guess it might be much warmer here than in America?"

"It's much warmer. Refill the glass." "Beautiful country, America! Did you know, sir, that my wife's cousin's half-brother lives in Kansas City?" He nodded. "He's lived there for forty years, and his name is Jill and Lupe. Perhaps you've heard of him, sir; Jill and Rupe? I heard he ran a lumber mill. No! It's a big place... Well, then, sir!" Huge had never been so grateful for the restraint of the British.Everyone in the house was curious to find out what had happened at the manor; it must have been the subject of conversation all evening; and now even the main character, who should have been arrested, was present.They continued to chat with their ears pricked up.No one deliberately turned to glance at Spinley.

The boss babbled on and on: "You're going to stay with us now, I hope, Mr. Trevers." "No," said Spencer, "I'm leaving tonight." "Oh?" "Just tonight. I wish I could go far away. Listen..." He drained his third brandy and leaned closer to the bar.I don’t know if it’s because of the brandy for courage, or because he wanted to be the focus of everyone—as soon as he opened his mouth, the chatter gradually quieted down, and his voice overwhelmed them—Huge didn’t know why. .Spencer was clearly aware that he wanted to speak to everyone in the tavern.Three glasses of brandy went down, and when he was in high spirits, he blurted out from the end of his tongue.He cleared his throat.He looked around triumphantly at the people present with malicious eyes, and he turned to face the bar owner.

"Come on, stop pretending! Don't stand there licking your beer, being virtuous. I know what you're thinking. Murderer. You're pretending to care, why haven't the police arrested me, have you?" The boss tries to keep playing his role, seemingly oblivious to the activities of others.He pretended to be different from others: "Oh, sir, since you mentioned this-of course, we have all heard, it is a terrible incident!" He polished the bar with vitality, "Our respect to the poor old Gentleman is sorry..." "Bring me the bottle! Terrible incident! They tried to put the blame on me, but they couldn't. Tell your friends that I have nothing to do with this case, and I've confirmed it."

The tavern owner smiled: "Hey, then I really want to congratulate you, Mr. Trevors! We also don't think you are a murderer, sir! It's just people in this area—you know, who doesn't like Taoist gossip." He lowered his voice, "You just came to visit Mr. Dibbin specially, many people—" "Are you talking to me? Listen," Spencer drank from his glass, turned it upside down, and poked the barkeeper's chest with his hand. "I've never been in his house. They thought that man was Me, it's really Mr. Dibbin pretending to be unrecognizable. Go talk to your friends, and your brainless police friends."

"gentlemen?" "I'm telling you! It's Dibin who's going to tell me that I'm a liar!" The tavern owner was confused, and Spencer said to himself.The more he spoke, the more confident he became, it was almost arbitrary. "Listen, I'll tell you what it is. Old Dibbin wants to leave his house, get it? Never mind why. I won't tell. He wants to get out of his house, get it? Very well. He goes Go to London, buy a dressing-case at a theater store, and a suit at a tailor's. Then he can do whatever he likes, and no one will suspect him. But Nick is an artist, do you understand?—a veritable artist; I Had to give him credit. If he leaves footprints anywhere, he doesn't leave a trace. He even has several pairs of shoes in different sizes. That's right! And you can't walk into a shoe store and ask for a pair smaller than your size Three or four sizes big. That's weird; and they'll find out where the shoes are from, and if anything goes wrong afterward, the police can't stop tracking you down, you know?" Spinley moved towards the middle of the bar, his blushing face was only an inch away from the bar owner.In a still hoarse voice: "So, what's Nick going to do? He goes to a big house they call 'The Manor'; the only place where there's unused furniture and some stuff I'd rather put in a coal cellar Draw. One afternoon, he was carrying a school bag that was supposed to hold books; keep up with my words? He sneaked into the room where they stockpiled junk, and stole a pair of someone's shoes; Why, because he blamed it on the owner of those shoes, get it? That's what Nick did, all because he was leaving his house and..." Before Xiu Ge finished listening to this sentence, he realized that he was almost facing Spinley and listening to him.He kept his composure, put his empty glass to his lips, and gazed at a poster behind the bar, where John Walker grinned with an ironic leer. Spinley continued to talk about the props used in the case. Surprisingly, he based all his assumptions on this pair of shoes, eschewed the most important ones, added fuel, and pointed out that the owner of the mysterious pair of shoes was Molly Stan No. thread.All kinds of references were made, and one of the simplest explanations--Duben's disguise was used to deceive people--was ignored.At some point, the topic turned to Huge's father's absurd behavior, saying that Henry Morgan played tricks to steal the shoes? He ventured a sideways glance at Spencer.The latter talked too much, drank too much courage, and was too obsessed with the scenery of the leading figures, without turning his head or lowering his volume at all.Spinley laughed, his feet exploring the railing under the bar in vain. "That's how it happened," he said, tapping the counter. "It was his mistake, see? Because he was going to sneak out of his house and no one would know. That's what you call Nick Debbing! When he wants to When he got back to his house, he couldn't get in. Know why? He lost the key in his pocket in a hurry, that's all. Hahaha. Don't doubt it, I just know." All this nonsense was directed at the tavernkeeper.He glanced carefully at the brandy bottle and coughed. "Oh, hey, sir, after all—" he induced Spencer to go on, "Mr. Debbing is a queer fellow. Why, would you like some of Jill's home brew, sir? It's good. Even if Mr. Debbing wants to If we want to pretend to be ourselves, we have no right to ask, do we?" Spinley felt dizzy for a while: "You don't believe me, eh? Listen to me, I'm going to tell you now, and I tell the whole world, what a despicable and shameless villain Nick Dibbing is. I'm going to take him I want everyone to know. Because—” "Mr. Trevors! Be careful, there are ladies here!" "Anyway, someone outdid him. Someone sneaked in with a duplicate key while he was out, pretending he didn't have one. I'm not going to tell the world about this. All I'm saying is, all of you People mistakenly think that Di Bin is a good guy, wears a top hat and lives in a mansion, I want to tell you..." Huge didn't know how far he had gone.He understood that Spinley just wanted to take the opportunity to take revenge on Di Bin. The tavernkeeper interrupted him.He glanced at his watch, came back to reality, and unexpectedly yelled at the whole room: "Ladies and gentlemen, last order, last order! The tavern closes in ten minutes! Please come to the front—" Resolutely clamped the guests like a clamp, and suddenly strictly enforced the restriction of closing the door at ten o'clock sharp.The tavernkeeper suddenly had his hands full.Coaxing his audience, almost humbly begging, not to have his license revoked, the bar promises them a last drink.In order to avoid people's eyes and ears, Xiu Ge retreated from the crowd to the corridor.Stand there and wait to see what Spinley will do next. In the gloom he could see the face of his quarry, which had undoubtedly changed from an expression of exhilaration to disappointment.There was an oil lamp just above his head, and he looked like a prey.The previous fears seized him, and the fellow still held on to his light and his audience; but the audience had all dispersed, and he had no choice but to return to the dark road to meet the person he wanted to meet.He must have met the murderer, tonight, at the manor.Hugh Dunofan had a premonition at this moment, a certainty that gradually took shape that he could declare aloud. This man is going to die. He had the urge to squeeze into Spencer's side, grab him by the shoulders, and shout, "Listen, you fool, don't do this! Get out of here. Get out of here, or you'll end up with Dibbin." Same." He dared to swear on his conviction.In this noisy crowd, death covered Spinley's trembling face like smoke around him. Spencer bought a bottle of brandy and stuffed it hastily into his coat pocket.In addition, he bought two more packs of cigarettes, probably to pass the time before he met the killer.No one noticed him; everyone deliberately ignored his presence.When the first people to leave started pushing the door out, he quickly made a decision to follow them. The crowd dispersed on the moonlit road in front of the bar.The voice of heated debate rose up, and everyone was in an uproar, and then gradually disappeared into the chaotic footsteps on the road.A rambunctious baritone sang "My Old Corduroy Trousers"; the countryside was so quiet that only the noise echoed in the air.A drunken woman giggling and being dragged to a bus stop by someone's arm. All the lights in the tavern went out.At this moment, darkness and tranquility were restored again; the incredible tranquility made Huge hardly dare to breathe.He leaned against the wall outside the tavern, wondering if they were going to let the dog out.Someone pulled up the window above his head, and after a while he heard the creak as the man fell into the bed. Spinley sat in the front seat of the car, it was pitch black, and he didn't intend to turn on the lights.From time to time he shifted his posture, struck a match to light a cigarette, and stared at his watch; he sipped his wine one after another.Huge didn't know how much time had passed, but every muscle in him was tense.The moon is slowly sinking: a watery moon, with warm clouds rapidly gathering around it. There was a faint thunder, like someone's mysterious footsteps.Hugh heard the cows in the corral start to get restless.Nervous and a little lethargic.As soon as he heard the car door open slightly, he suddenly raised his guard.His prey got out of the car and the bottle slammed into the door.He chased to the road, and the cold air woke him up. The farther away from the noisy tavern, the more careful Spinley walked forward, and the more cautious Hugh was.Spinley walked halfway, and suddenly stood in the middle of the road.A low stone wall in the front yard of a church stopped him and leaned against it.He laughed to himself.Looking up at the shadows of the ivy illuminated by the moonlight on the square tower of the church, the promenade with a mysterious atmosphere, and the collapsed tombstones in the yard.He made an exaggerated pose. "'Rest in peace the rough ancestors of the village,'" Spencer read aloud, "'Lie forever in the narrow chamber.' What shit!" Something dangled in the air, and then the wine bottle The sound of smashing stones.Spencer walked on. This provocative move really surprised Huge, but Spinley seemed more courageous.The stalker, whose pulse was now beating faster than Spinley's, patted himself on the shoulder, took the pulse in his jaw, and walked along the side of the road to calm himself.Anyone would approve of this clean and tidy approach, which saves endless trouble; the pace of the night is fairly leisurely.He was not so much afraid of Spinley's gun.He guessed that Spinley wouldn't have the guts to use that gun even in the nick of time.On the dim road, he thought as he walked, the personalities of the people he saw tonight were all incomprehensible; either Spinley was the mastermind behind the scenes, or a psychiatrist, depending on how you look at it.he-- Huge stopped in his tracks.Almost directly facing the dark house of the Morgans, Spinley stopped.He walked down the road on the left, in the direction of the garden wall of the manor house.He groped in the dark, struck a match, and touched the wall.He headed for the reception, absolutely right.Huge put his back against the hedge, tiptoeing forward... Someone grabs his arm from behind— Never in my life had I been so frightened.Xiu Ge was so frightened that his whole body became stiff, and he couldn't think for a long time; he couldn't move, let alone turn around.All he could think about was the murderer.He gathered all his strength to turn around suddenly and hit hard.The voice was close to his ears, so small that he thought he was imagining it, so small that it was softer than the rustling of the bushes. "It's all right," said the voice, "I see it all. Can I come with you? You're going to need help." The nearly silent whispers fell silent.Turning around slowly, Huge saw the other party leaning against the fence of Morgan's house.The flickering moonlight shone on Morgan's glass.He leaned against the railing almost imperceptibly.Huge lowered his shoulders in agreement, and ventured to whisper in the silence.He needs company.His nervous nerves allowed him to hear the crunch of Morgan climbing over the railing and the clack of his tennis shoes on the wet lawn as he landed. No, the other railings were creaking too, not far ahead.Spencer found the entrance to the wall of the reception house.They could hear his steps scratching the rough grass; he lit another match now and propped the door open.The action is clean and crisp.Morgan followed closely behind, and Huge lay prostrate on the ground in the darkness, crawling across the moonlit road on all fours.He swiftly dodged into the concealment of the wall, panting like a cow.He breathed a sigh of relief when he touched the uneven stone.Then they pushed on, through the doorway... He suddenly felt something was wrong.He could neither see nor hear Spinley now.The damp tree trunks blocking the path faintly stirred, and the occluded moon had not yet broken through the clouds, and it was dark all around.Nasty cobwebs hang over the trails, and mouths accidentally eat them as they pass by.Hugh felt Morgan poking him in the back, and the game of peek-a-boo and the never-ending path under the trees terrified him—the path had come to an end, take a turn.A hideous house stood in the middle of the clearing.The railing windows are warm and bright.They saw Spencer. He was about to walk into the clearing, slowing down, his gun already in his hand.He leaned on the sundial to cheer himself up, and carefully turned around with the gun, as if he was patrolling the entire open space.no movement... Then he was out of their sight again.Proceed across the brick path leading to the manor.They could hear the rustle of his feet on the wet grass—hesitating for a moment, then continuing to explore. Quietly around.As if the air was filled with resonance, they could feel his twitching and panting.He began to speak, in a low, deep but powerful voice: "Come out! Come on, come out! Don't play tricks—for God's sake, don't play tricks on me—yes, I know you hide Get up—come out—” murderer……?

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