Chapter 9 Hermit of Shiraz

After a brief stop in Baghdad, Mr. Parker Pyne set off for Persia at six o'clock in the morning. There is very little space for passengers in a monoplane, and the cramped seats do not allow Mr. Parker Pyne any comfort for his body.There were also two other tourists. One was a broad, fat man with a ruddy complexion, and Mr. Parker Pyne judged that he must have a problem with chattering; the other was a thin woman with pursed lips, who looked very assertive. "Anyway," thought Mr. Parker Pyne, "they don't look like people to consult with me." They are not.The thin woman is an American missionary who takes great pleasure in hard work; the ruddy man is an employee of an oil company.Before setting off, they had briefly introduced themselves to their fellow travelers.

"I'm only a traveler, I'm afraid," said Mr. Parker Pyne lightly. "I'm going to Tehran, Isfahan, and Shiraz." He uttered the place names musically, and he repeated them, Tehran, Isfahan and Shiraz. Mr. Parker Pyne looked down at the ground below him.Flat desert.He felt the mystery contained in this vast and rare land. When the plane landed in Kermanshah, the passport was checked and passed through the customs. A bag belonging to Mr. Parker Pyne was opened. The customs staff inspected a small cardboard box with great interest and asked many questions.Since Mr. Parker Pyne could neither understand nor speak Persian, the situation was suddenly complicated.

The pilot of the plane just came over.He was a handsome blond German youth with dark blue eyes and a weathered face. "What's the matter?" he asked kindly. Mr. Parker Pyne, relieved after trying all sorts of gestures to no avail, turned to the driver and said, "Here's bedbug powder. You can tell them Can you explain clearly?" The pilot looked blank: "What?" Mr. Parker Pyne repeated his explanation in German.The pilot grinned and translated his words into Persian.Relieved, the stern faces of the stern staff relaxed into smiles, and one of them even broke out into a fit of laughter.They thought it was really interesting.

The three passengers boarded the plane again to continue the flight.They descended to drop the mail in Hamadan, but the plane did not stop.Mr. Parker Pyne looked down and tried to make out the rock of Byhiston, the romantic place where Darius, king of ancient Persia, wrote about his empire in three languages ​​- Babylonian, Median and Persian. territory and history of conquest. They arrived in Tehran at one o'clock in the afternoon, and customs required more police formalities.The German pilot came and stood aside, smiling, watching Mr. Parker Pyne answer a host of questions he did not understand.

"What did I say?" he asked the German. "You say your father's Christian name is Traveler, your trade is Charlie, your mother's name is Baghdad, and you're from Harriet." "Does it matter?" "It doesn't matter. Just answer something, that's all they need." Mr. Parker Pyne was very disappointed in Tehran, which he found oppressively modern.That was what he told the pilot, Herr Schlager, when he walked into the hotel the next night.On a whim, he invited the pilot to dinner.The Germans accepted the invitation. Waiters in classic attire take down their orders.The food came quickly.

When they got to dessert, a slightly gooey chocolate treat, the Germans asked: "So you're going to Shiraz?" "Yes, I flew there and then returned to Isfahan and Tehran by road from Shiraz. Will I still be on your plane tomorrow?" "Oh no. I'm going back to Baghdad." "Have you been here long?" "Three years. Our service period is set at three years. So far we have never had an accident." He knocked on the table, and two cups of sweet coffee served in thick cups were served, and the two ordered cigarette. "The first passengers I carried were two ladies," recalled the German, "two English ladies."

"Really?" said Mr. Parker Pyne. "One is a well-born young lady, the daughter of one of your ministers—what do you call it? Ms. Esther Carr. She's pretty, very pretty, but a madman." "madman?" "A complete madman. She lives in a big local house in Shiraz. She wears oriental clothes and doesn't look European at all. Is this the life of a lady of such good birth?" "There are other people who live like that," said Mr. Parker Pyne, "like Mrs. Sister Sister Stanhope . . . " "No, she's a madman," the German interrupted. "You can see it in her eyes, like the eyes of my submarine commander during the war. He's in a mental hospital now."

Mr. Parker Pyne was lost in thought.He remembered well Sir Michael Dever, Miss Esther Carr's father--a tall, fair-skinned man with fair hair and smiling blue eyes.Mr Parker Pyne worked under him when he was Home Secretary.He had also met Mrs. Michael Dever, a famous Irish beauty with velvety blue eyes and jet-black hair.They are all decent normal people, but the Carl family does have a genetic inheritance of psychosis.After disappearing for a generation or two, it pops up now and then.He thought again that it was unusual for Herr Schlager to emphasize this point. "Another lady?" he asked, seemingly casually.

"The other lady died one by one." Something in his voice made Mr. Parker Pyne look up at him alertly. "I have a heart," said Hale, "and I can feel it. She is, to me, the most beautiful, lady. You know, such a thing as love always comes to mind. She is A flower—a flower." He sighed deeply. "I went to see them once, at that house in Shiraz. Miss Esther invited me. My little darling, I flowers, I could see that something frightened her. When I returned from Baghdad again, I heard she was dead. Dead!" He paused, then said thoughtfully, "It's probably the other guy who killed her. That guy was crazy, I tell you."

He sighed.Mr. Parker Pyne ordered two glasses of rum. "Curret with orange zest. Tastes good," said the waiter, serving two glasses of curacao. On the second afternoon Mr. Parker Pyne saw Shiraz for the first time, and they flew over long barren valleys, stretches of mountains, dry wastelands, and scorched moors.Then Shiraz suddenly jumped into the field of vision, like a green emerald in the hinterland of the wasteland. Mr. Parker Pyne prefers Shiraz to Tehran.The primitiveness of the inn did not shock him, nor did he fear the squalidness of the streets. He found himself in the midst of a Persian festival.For fifteen days from the evening of the previous day, the Persians will celebrate Naru, their New Year.He wandered through the empty bazaar and into the vast expanse that stretched north of the city.The whole of Shiraz is celebrating.

One day he went out of the city and went to the grave of the poet Hafiz.On the way back, he was fascinated by a house he saw.A house of sky-blue, rose, and canary-yellow tiles, set in a green garden with a pond, orange trees, and roses.It was a dream house, he thought. He asked about the house at dinner with the British consul that night. "Charming place, isn't it? It was built by a rich consul earlier. He made a fortune during Louristan's tenure. Now lives in an Englishwoman. You must have heard of her - Esther Miss Carr. Crazy, completely assimilated. She doesn't want to have anything to do with any Englishman or British thing." "Is she young?" "Too young to act crazy like that. She was about thirty." "There was another Englishwoman with her, wasn't there? And died?" "Yes, that was about three years ago. As a matter of fact, it happened to be the day after I took office here. My predecessor, Baham, died suddenly. You know that." "How did she die?" asked Mr. Parker Pyne directly. "Fall off the second-floor landing. She was Miss Esther's maid or companion, I forget what. Anyway, she was carrying a breakfast tray and stepped back. Tragic. We There was nothing left to do. Her skull hit the rocks below." "what is her name?" "Kim, I suppose, or Willis, maybe? No, that's the missionary's name. She's a pretty girl." "Is Miss Esther sad?" "Yes—no, I don't know. She's weird, inexplicable. I can't understand. She's a very, um, arrogant person. You can tell she's a character, if you know what I mean. She The way she gave orders, and her shining black eyes really scared me." He smiled a little ashamedly, then looked at his companion curiously.Mr. Parker Pyne was visibly staring into space.The match that he was just trying to light a cigarette burned in his hand, but he didn't feel it. It burned all the way to his fingers, and there was a burning pain. He quickly threw the match away.Then he saw the startled expression on the consul's face and couldn't help smiling. "I beg your pardon," he said. "Are you distracted?" "A long way," said Mr. Parker Pyne mysteriously. They talked about other subjects. Mr. Parker Pyne wrote a letter that night by a small oil lamp.He hesitated for a long time and didn't know how to word it, but in the end it was very simple: Mr. Parker Pyne would like to extend his sincere respect to Miss Esther Carr.If you need to consult, I will be waiting at Far East Hotel within three days. He attached a clipping of the famous advertisement: are you happyIf the answer is 'no' then come to 17 Richmond Street and let Mr. Parker Pyne take care of you. "This plan must succeed." Mr. Parker Pyne climbed up on the uncomfortable bed energetically. "Let me think about it. It's been almost three years. Yes, it will work." There was an answer about four o'clock the next afternoon.The reply was brought by a Persian servant who did not understand English. Miss Esther Carr would be honored to have Mr. Parker Pyne at nine o'clock that evening. Mr. Parker Pyne smiled slightly. It was the same servant who ushered him in that night, and led him through the dark garden, up the outer stairs, and around the back of the house.There was a door open and he stepped into the patio or terrace.Against the wall stood a large sofa, on which reclined a charming lady. Miss Esther wears an oriental gown, and it seems that her preference is because oriental attire is more suitable for her rich oriental beauty.Arrogant, that's how the consul described her. Indeed, she looked very arrogant, with her jaw raised high and her eyebrows full of arrogance. "You are Mr. Parker Pyne? Please sit there." Her fingers pointed toward a pile of cushions, and on her middle finger gleamed an emerald ring engraved with her family's crest.It was her family heirloom, and must be worth a lot, thought Mr. Parker Pyne. He sat down obediently, though with some difficulty.It is not easy for a man of his stature to sit gracefully on the floor. A servant appeared with coffee.Mr. Parker Pyne took the cup and took a courtesy sip. The hostess had acquired the boundless ease and ease of the Oriental style.She was in no rush to get into the conversation.She half-closed her eyes and sipped her coffee.Finally she spoke. "So you help the unhappy," she said, "at least that's what your ad says." "yes." "Why did you send it to me? Is this how you do business while traveling?" Her words were obviously offensive, but Mr. Parker Pyne ignored them.He simply replied: "No, my concept of travel is: pure vacation without business." "Then why did you send me the advertisement?" "Because I have reason to believe that you are—unhappy." There was a moment of silence.He was very curious, how would she answer?She gave herself a minute to think about it, and then she smiled. "I think you think that anyone who has left the world of flowers, cut off contact with family and country, and lived like me must be very unhappy, sad, and hopeless. Do you think such emotions lead to self-exile? Oh, Forget it, how do you understand? There, in England, I was just a fish out of water, and here I am myself. I am an oriental at heart. I like this reclusive life. I dare Say you don't understand. To you, I must look like—" She hesitated, "like a madman." "You're not crazy," said Mr. Parker Pyne. There was a certain degree of certainty in his voice.She looked at him in surprise. "But I think they keep saying I'm. Stupid? There's everybody in the world. I'm perfectly happy." "But you asked me to call," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I must admit that I am curious to see the face." She hesitated and then added: "Besides, I will never move back to the idea of ​​going back-to England, but in any case, I also want to know what is going on. -" "Happened in the world you're far away from?" She nodded in answer. Mr. Parker Pyne began to talk.His voice was soft and sweet, soothing.He spoke softly, only a little emphatically when emphasizing a certain thing. He talked of London, of society news, of celebrities and ladies, of new hotels and nightclubs, of horse-racings, of country hunting, of villa scandals; small shop.He described theaters and cinemas, and introduced the new films coming out; he described the new garden estates; he spoke of plants and gardening; and finally he spoke, with nostalgia, of London at night, with its trams and buses running back and forth. , the busy crowd rushing home after a day's work, everyone has a warm little family waiting for their return, and talked about the close family life in the British style. It is an excellent performance, displaying an unusual breadth of knowledge and dexterity in presenting facts.Miss Esther's head drooped, her poised arrogance long gone.Several times, tears fell silently.He ended the conversation.She dropped all pretense and wept. Mr. Parker Pyne was silent, just sat there looking at her, with a silent expression of satisfaction on his face, as if he had conducted an experiment by himself and obtained the desired result. Finally she raised her head. "Well," she said wryly, "you are satisfied?" "I think so—now." "How can I bear it, how can I bear it? Never leave here, never see anyone?!" Cries broke out from her body.She straightened up abruptly, her face flushed. "Okay," she asked sarcastically, "Why don't you say the obvious comment? Why don't you say, 'If you want to go home so much, why don't you go home?'" "No," Mr. Parker Pyne shook his head, "it's not that simple for you." For the first time there was a look of horror in her eyes. "Do you know why I can't go back?" "I think I know." "Wrong," she shook her head. "You will never guess the reason why I can't go back." "I never speculate," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "I observe and analyze." She shook her head: "You don't know anything." "I think I can convince you," said Mr. Parker Pyne kindly. "Miss Esther, I believe you were on the new German Air Lines flight from Baghdad when you came here." "yes." "Your plane was flown by a young pilot, Herr Schlager, who came here later to see you." "yes." Subtly different from the last "yes", this time the tone is softer. "You have a friend, or companion, who has passed away." The tone of the sentence is steely and unpleasant. "It's a companion." "Her name?" "Muriel King." "do you like her?" "What do you mean, like it?" She paused, thought for a moment and said, "She is very useful to me." There was arrogance in her voice.Mr. Parker Pyne remembered the Consul's words: "You can see she's a character, if you know what I mean." "Were you sad when she died?" "I—Of course! Mr. Pyne. Is it really necessary to talk about it?" She said angrily, and continued without waiting for an answer: "Thank you very much for coming, but I am a little tired, can you tell me how to thank you?" But Mr. Parker Pyne remained motionless, and showed no displeasure.He continued to ask calmly: "Her Schlagel has not been here since her death. If he came, would you receive him?" "of course not." "Totally shut out?" "Exactly, Herr Schlager is not popular." "Yes," said Mr. Parker Pyne thoughtfully, "that's all you can say." Her defensive armor of arrogance began to falter.She hesitated, "I—I don't know what you mean." "Miss Esther, did you know that young Slug was in love with Muriel King? He was a sentimental lad. He still cherishes the memory of her." "Really?" Her voice was a whisper. "What kind of woman is she?" "What do you mean, what kind of woman is she? How would I know?" "You have to watch her carefully sometime," said Mr. Parker Pyne softly. "Oh, you mean that! She's a pretty good-looking young woman." "Around your age?" "Not much difference." She paused and asked: "Why do you think—Slag still cares about her?" "Because he said so to me. Yes, yes, sure. I said he was a sentimental young man. He would have liked to have told me what was on his mind, that she had died in such a state. The way he was sad." Miss Esther jumped up. "You think I murdered her?" Mr. Parker Pyne didn't jump up like her.He's not the type to make a fuss. "No, my dear boy," said he, "I don't believe you'll murder her. I think you'd better quit the scene as soon as possible and go home." "What did you say? Acting?" "The truth is, you lost your guts. Yes, you totally lost your guts. You fear you'll be charged with murdering your employer." Her whole body shook suddenly. Mr. Parker Pyne went on: "You are not Miss Esther Carr. I knew that before I got here. But I tried to make sure." An amiable smile broke out on his face. "When I was talking, I was looking at you. Every time you reacted as Muriel King, not Esther Carr. Cheap stores, movie theaters, trams, buses back home Home—you react to it all. Scandals at country houses, new nightclubs, gossip in London society, the Jockey Club, you don't react to it." His voice is more seductive and full of fatherly love: "Sit down and tell me everything. You didn't murder Miss Esther Carr, but you think you will be charged with murder. Tell me how it all happened? " She took a deep breath, sank her whole body into the sofa again, and started talking.Her words were a little hasty, impatient. "I have to say - at first, I was - terrified of her. She was crazy - not terribly crazy - just a little bit. She brought me here. I was happy like a fool, thinking it was romantic .Little fool, I'm a little fool. And it's about a driver. She's crazy when she sees a man—that's right. He doesn't want anything to do with her, and then it gets out. Her friend Everyone knew, she became a laughing stock. So she disappeared from her family and came here. "It was just posturing so as not to embarrass her—solitude in the desert, all that sort of thing. She'd put on a post here for a while and then go home. But she was getting more and more abnormal. Later Just met the pilot, and she took a fancy to him. He came here to see me, and she thought—oh, you can understand. But he must have made everything clear to her... "So she just burst into a fit of rage at me. She was horrible, scary. She said I would never go home. She said I was at her mercy and I was just a slave, just a slave. She manipulated me power of life and death." Mr. Parker Pyne nodded.The situation at that time unfolded before him.Miss Esther gradually crossed the edge of reason, as the rest of her family had done before her, and the terrified girl, who knew nothing of it, and had never been far, believed Everything that was said to her. "But one day something exploded in me. I confronted her. I told her that if she wanted to do something to me, I was much stronger than she was. I told her I would kill her. Throw it on the rocks below. She was frightened by me, really frightened. She still thought I was a docile and docile person. I approached her, she must have thought I would really do something. She backed away. She —she slipped out of there!" Muriel King buried her face in her hands. "And then?" asked Mr. Parker Pyne softly. "I'm freaking out. I think they'll say I pushed her off. I don't think anyone will believe me. I think I'm going to be put in this horrible prison here." Her lips were quivering, and Parker Mr. Pyne saw clearly that she was gripped by nameless terror, "Then it occurred to me—if I had fallen! I knew that a new British consul had just been sent, who had never seen Us. His predecessor just passed away." "The servants are easy enough, I suppose. To them we're just two crazy English women. One dies, and the other stays. I gave them a good deal of money to send for the British consul. He came, and I received him as Miss Esther, with her ring. He was a good man, and took care of all the affairs. No one ever had the slightest suspicion." Mr. Parker Pyne nodded thoughtfully.Miss Esther Carr may be crazy, but she is Miss Esther Carr. "Then," continued Muriel, "I wish it wasn't. I found myself getting more and more insane too, staying here and playing my part like a criminal. I didn't know how it was going to end. Now If I tell the truth, it will look more like I murdered her. Oh, Mr. Pyne, what should I do? What should I do?" "What?" said Mr. Parker Pyne, rising as swiftly as his size could. "My dear boy, you will now come with me to the British Consul. He is a genial and generous man." .Of course there will be an unpleasant judicial process, I can't guarantee it will be smooth sailing, but you will not hang for murder. Also, why is the breakfast plate next to her body?" "I threw it down. I—I thought the dead would be more like me. Is it stupid?" "The wonderful thing," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "In fact, it did make me wonder if you killed Miss Esther—but that was before I saw you. When I saw After you, I know that no matter what you may have done in your life, you would never kill someone." "You mean I don't have the guts?" "Your consciousness won't let you do this." Mr. Parker Pyne said with a smile. "Can we go now? There are still ugly things to face, but I think you will be all right. Then, back to you The home of Streatham Hill—is Streatham Hill, isn't it? Yes, I think it must be. Your face changed quite a bit when I mentioned a certain bus going there. You Are you going, dear?" Muriel King hesitated. "They won't believe me," she said uneasily. "Her family and everyone, they won't believe that she can be that crazy." "Leave it to me," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "You see, I know something about the history of this family. Come, boy, don't be timid. Remember, there's a lad who's heartbroken." It's about to crumble. We'd better hurry so you can catch his plane back to Baghdad." The girl smiled, with a blush on her face. "I'm ready," she said simply.As she walked toward the door, she turned again and asked, "You said you knew I wasn't Miss Esther Carr before you saw me. How did you know?" "Analyze the facts," said Mr. Parker Pyne. "Analyze the facts?" "Yes. Sir Michael Dever and his lady both had blue eyes. When the Consul mentioned that their daughter had dark eyes, I knew something was wrong. People with brown eyes could have blue eyes children, the reverse is not possible, and I can assure you that this is a scientifically proven fact." "You're amazing!" said Muriel King.