Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Sutton Village

After leaving the house by the river, Twopenny drove on along the narrow and winding road which she believed must lead to Sutton Village.The road was remote, and there were no houses in sight—just muddy field paths.There was very little traffic on the road either; Twopenny saw only one traction machine, and a big truck that rumbled proudly to tell it was loaded.The steeple of the church, which she had seen from a distance, seemed to disappear completely for a while, but after making a sharp turn and rounding a bush, she suddenly found that it was almost in front of her eyes.Twopence. Look at the odometer. It's about two miles from the river house.It was a charming old church, with a fairly large cemetery, and a single fir tree standing at the door.Twopenny parked the car at the gate of the churchyard, went in, surveyed the church and the surrounding scenery, then walked through the church's Norman arches and pulled the heavy handle.The door was unlocked and she walked in.The inside of the church is not attractive at all.The church is doubtless old, but it has been lovingly washed in the Victorian era, and the pine-coloured pews and red and blue windows completely spoil some of its original appeal.A middle-aged woman in a Scotch line coat and skirt was arranging flowers around the pulpit - the altar was already decorated.She looked at the twopence with shrewd, questioning eyes.Two pennies casually glanced at the souvenir watches on the walls along the aisle.There was a family named Wallander who seemed to be an early representative—Colonel Wallander, Major Wallander, Sarah.Elizabeth Wallander, George.Warren's dearest wife.Another, more recent form records the death of Philip Stark's dearest wife, Gloria Stark, who also belonged to the priory of Sutton Village - so it seems that the Wallander family All have passed away.But to twopence, none of this meant much.Twopence walked out of the church, which she found more attractive on the outside than on the inside.It is a church of medium size, and the village of Twopenny Chaisarring must have had a more important center of life in its early days than it does now.She walked towards the village on foot.There are small shops and post offices in the village.There are also a dozen small houses.One or two had thatched roofs, but the others were mostly ordinary and unattractive.There are six meeting houses at the end of the road.It seemed a little unnatural, and there was a bronze plaque on a door that said "Arthur Thomas - Chimney Washer".

Twopence wonders if there is a house broker here who can handle that house by the river.She thought: How stupid of me not to ask the name of that house.She walked slowly back in the direction of the church and her car, stopping to take another closer look at the churchyard.She loved the cemetery, which had few new graves, mostly Victorian or earlier—many eroded by moss and time.The old tombstones are attractive, some made of planks with cherubs carved on top; wreaths around them.The Wallanders again—Mary Wallander, seventeen; Alice Wallander, thirty-three; Colonel John Wallander, dead in Afghanistan.And so many Wallander babies who died--deeply regretted, and engraved with fluent verses of piety, hope, Twopenny reckoned there were probably no Wallanders living here anymore, at least she couldn't find a better one. A later tombstone from 1843.Twopence passed an old pastor as he was walking past the big cedar tree.He was leaning over to examine the row of old tombstones along the wall behind the church.As Twopence approached he rose, turned to her and said pleasantly, "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," said Twopenny, adding; "I'm admiring the church." "It's been messed up by the Victorians," said the vicar.He had a pleasant voice and a friendly smile, and he looked about seventy or so, but Twopenny guessed he wasn't that old actually, only that the rheumatism made his gait unsteady. "Too much money in the Victorian era," he said sadly. "Too many blacksmiths. Yes, they were very religious. Unfortunately, they had no artistic eye at all, no aesthetic ability at all. You see the windows on the east side of the church." ?"

"See," said Twopenny, "it's dreadful," "Exactly," he said, adding unnecessarily, "I'm the pastor here." "I suppose it must be," said Twopenny politely, "have you been here long?" "Ten years, my dear," said he, "this parish is fine; and the people who live here are fine, and I am very happy here. It's a pity they don't like what I preach," he said sadly. Said: "I have tried my best, but I really can't pretend to keep up with the times. Please sit down." He politely pointed to a tombstone next to him.Twopenny sat down gracefully, and the vicar himself took another seat beside him. "I can't stand for long," he said apologetically, and added; "Is there anything I can do for you? Or are you just passing by?"

"Oh, I was just passing by," said Twopence, "to see the church, and I almost lost my way on these roads." "Yeah, yeah, it's not easy to find the way here. Many road signs are broken, and the authorities don't fix them," he said. Land, if there is one, is on the main road. It's horrible, especially the new roads, at least I think so. It's noisy, and it's so fast, it's not life-saving at all. Oh, don't take my words to heart , I'm a grumpy old fellow, and you can't guess what I'm doing here." "I saw you looking at some tombstones," said Twopence. "Has it been vandalized? Was it a teenage boy doing it on purpose?"

"No, now they've lost all interest in that and are busy wrecking payphones. Poor boy. I don't think they'll do anything else but wreck stuff. It's pathetic; isn't it? Too It's pathetic." He said, "As I said, no one breaks the tombstones here, and the kids around here are all fine. I'm just looking for a kid's grave." Twopenny moved a bit, "A kid's grave?" "Yes, a Major Waters wrote to me asking if a child might be buried here. I checked the parish records, of course, but I couldn't find the name he said, so I came here myself. Look. You know, I think the person I'm writing to may have got the name wrong."

"What's the child's Christian name?" asked Twopence. "He doesn't know either, maybe his name is Molia like her mother's." "How big is it?" "He's not sure, it's a muddled affair anyway. I think the man may have even got the name of the village wrong. I don't remember anyone named Waters ever living here." "Could it be Wallander?" Twopence recalled the names on the church. "There seem to be many nameplates of the Wallander family in the church, and there are also many tombstones with the surname Wallander engraved here."

"Well, that family is gone now. They had a nice piece of real estate - a fourteenth-century priory that burned down - well, almost a hundred years There are people who are alive and have left here and are not coming back. The place was built in the Victorian era by a Stark family and a new house was built. It's not pretty, but it's very comfortable, really very comfortable, you know, the bathroom fixtures Everything. I think it's very important." "Strange," said Twopence, "that you should have been written asking for a child's grave. Is it her relation?"

"It's the father," said the pastor. "I think it was a tragedy caused by the war. The war broke out, the husband went abroad to fight, the marriage broke up, and the wife ran away with other men while the husband was serving abroad. They had a The child, but he had never seen it, and if the child lived, he would be grown up by now, and must be about twenty years old." "It took so long to find her, isn't it too long?" "He has evidently only recently heard of such a child here, and must have overheard it by chance. It is a curious thing, too."

"How did he think the boy was buried here?" "Somebody might have met his wife during the war, and said she lived in Sutton Village. You know how one gets accidental tidbits from friends you haven't seen in years. But she doesn't live here now, and Nobody with that surname has lived here or near since I've been here. Of course, the mother 'maybe' used a fake name. Anyway; I guess the daddy has consulted a lawyer, all that should be done After everything has been done, there may be some results in the end, but it will take a lot of time—” "Is that poor child yours?"

"What did you say, dear." "Nothing," said Twopenny, "just a word someone said to me a while ago—'Is that poor boy yours?' I was taken aback when I first heard it. But say it Your old lady probably doesn't know what she's talking about." "I understand, I understand, and I am the same. I often say things that even I don't understand. It's really annoying." "You know all about the people here, don't you?" said Twopence. "It's really not a big deal. What? Do you want to know about someone?" "I don't know if a Mr. Lancaster lived here?" "Lancaster? I can't recall such a person." "There's a house—I just drove casually today, and drove wherever I came across, without any particular destination—" "I understand; the scenery on these roads is beautiful; and some rare specimens of plants can be found. No one has ever picked flowers around here, and there are not many tourists here. Really, I do find some very rare specimens sometimes. , such as Heilong Niuermiao" "There's a house on the river ahead," said Twopenny, trying to avoid the subject of vegetation, "by a little arched bridge; about two miles from here. What's the name of that house?" "I'm thinking about it: River-Arch Bridge, well, there's a couple of them around here, like Merika Farms." "Not a farm." "Oh, I remember. It's the Perry house—Emers and Alice Perry." "Yes," said Twopenny, "a couple named Perry." "She's very special looking, isn't she? I've always thought it was interesting, really interesting, kind of medieval looking, don't you think? She's going to be a witch in one of our plays, you know, school kids Our play. She does look like a witch, doesn't she?" "Yes," said Twopence. "Like a friendly witch." "True, my dear, very true. A friendly witch indeed." "But he—" "Well, poor fellow," said the preacher, "not quite a sound mind—but no harm." "They were very polite; invited me in for a cup of tea," said the pair. "I wanted to know the name of the house, but I forgot to ask them. They only live in half the house, don't they?" "Yes, yes; they lived in the part where the kitchen used to be. I think they called that house 'Shuimei House,' but earlier I remember it was called 'Tsing Tsing Riverside House,' which sounds nice." "Who owns the other half of the house?" "Oh, the whole house used to be the Brileys, years ago. Yeah, I think at least thirty or forty years. Then it was sold to someone else, then changed hands again, and it's been empty since. For a while. When I first came, it was taken as a weekend getaway, and I remember it was an actress, Miss Margrave. She didn't live here often, but came here occasionally. I didn't know her personally, because she never Go to church. I've only seen her from a distance. She's beautiful, very beautiful." "Whose house does it belong to now?" "I don't know, maybe it's still hers. The part where the Perrys live is probably rented." "I knew that house when I saw it," said Twopenny, "for I have a picture of that house." "Oh, really? That must be a Boscoby (or Boscoby) painting?—I can't remember, but it's about the same name. He's from Cornwall, and I think he's pretty famous." .Maybe dead now. Yes, he used to come here often, and he loved to paint the surrounding scenery, and he did some oil paintings; some of them are really good." "The picture I'm talking about," said Twopence, "was given to my old aunt who died a month ago. It was given to her by the name of Mrs. Lancaster, which is why I ask you if you've ever heard of that name." ’” But the pastor still shook his head. "Lancaster? Lancaster? I can't think of such a man. Ah! Here comes your puritanical man, our dear Miss Bligh; she is very active, and knows all about the parish. Clear, everything: Girls' college, Boy Scouts, instructors—everything. You ask her, she's active, really active." The priest sighed, and Miss Bligh seemed so active that he Some worried, "Everyone in the village calls her Nelly Bligh; boys often sing 'Nellie Bligh, Nelly Bligh' behind her back. It's not her real name, it should be Glyde or Gradin or something." Miss Bligh turned out to be the woman in the tweed dress that Twopenny had seen in church.Now she was walking briskly towards them, still holding the little jug in her hand.As she approached, she looked at the two pennies with very curious eyes. She quickened her pace again, and before she reached them, she opened her mouth and said, "I have finished all the work that should be done, and I am in a hurry today. Well, I am in a hurry." A bit. You know, Reverend, I always clean up the church in the morning, but we had an emergency meeting in the parish chamber today, and you can't believe how long it took! You know, there's so much talking and so much opinion. Sometimes I really think that some people play naysayers just for fun. Mrs. Paddington is especially annoying, discuss everything carefully, and make sure to know whether we have indeed found many companies to compare prices. How much does it cost, even if you spend a little more money in some small places occasionally, it won’t make much difference, right? Pastor, I think you really shouldn’t sit on that tombstone.” "Perhaps that's rude?" said the priest. "Oh, no, no, of course I didn't mean that, Reverend, I meant the 'stone'; you know, the moisture on the stone is not good for your rheumatism—" She glanced questioningly at the two. penny. "Let me introduce; this is Miss Bligh," said the minister. "This is... this is..." "Mrs. Berryford," said Twopence. "Oh, yes," said Miss Bligh, "I just saw you looking around in church, didn't I? I meant to go and say a word to you, but I was too busy to finish my work. " "I should have gone to help," said Twopenny, as sweetly as he could, "but it must be of no use, must it? I can see that you know exactly where a flower should go." "It's sweet to hear you say that, but it's also true. I've been arranging flowers for churches for—oh, I can't remember how many years. At the holidays, we let the boys at school put some wildflowers themselves, But of course they don't have the slightest idea, poor little ones. I was going to teach them, but Mrs. Peek insisted. She wondered, saying that would destroy their instincts. Are you going to live here?" she asked twopence. "I'm going to Basin Market," said Twopence. "Perhaps you can tell me which hotel is better there?" "Well, I thought you might be a little disappointed. You know, Basin Market is a small town that doesn't cater for cars at all, and the 'Blue Dragon Hotel' is a two-star hotel, but really, I feel like It doesn't make any sense at all. I think the 'Sheep Hotel' is better, quieter, and you plan to stay here for a long time?" "Oh, no," said Twopenny, "only for a day or two, and I want to see the neighborhood." "There's really nothing to see here, no interesting monuments or anything like that, the area is pretty remote, and it's completely agricultural," the pastor said, "but you know, it's very quiet, very quiet. And like I said, there's a lot of Interesting wildflowers." "Oh, yes," said Twopenny, "I hear that, and I'd like to collect some specimens while I'm looking for a little country house." "Oh, my God, that's interesting;" said Miss Bligh. "You intend to settle around?" "Well, my husband and I haven't decided where we're going to live yet," said Twopence. "We're in no rush, he's got another year and a half to retire, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to look around first. I like living in one place." Four or five days, find out the possible places, and drive to see them one by one. I feel very tired to drive from London to see a certain house." "Oh, yeah, you drove here, didn't you?" "Yes," said Twopence, "I'm going to Basin Market to-morrow morning to look for a house agent. There's not much room to live in the village, is there?" "Of course there is, Mrs. Copley's," said Miss Bligh. "She has tenants for the summer, and the rooms are all nice and clean. Of course, she only makes the beds and serves breakfast, and maybe a light supper in the evening." , but I don't think she'll have guests until August—July at the earliest." "Perhaps I can ask her," said Twopence. "She's a very respectable woman," said the vicar, "with a lot of talk, and her mouth can't stop talking all day long, not for a minute." "There's gossip in a small village like this," said Miss Bligh. "I think it would be better for me to help Mrs. Berryford. I can talk to Mrs. Copley and see if she'll agree." .” "It's very kind of you," said Twopence. "Then we'll go first," said Miss Bligh briskly, "good-bye, Reverend. Still looking for the boy's grave? It's a sad job, it's unlikely to succeed, and I don't think anyone who asks you is very unreasonable." ’” Twopence said good-bye to the vicar, saying if she could; she would be more than willing to help him. "I only need an hour or two to look for it, and my eyesight is pretty good for a man of my age. You just need to find someone named Waters?" "No," said the priest. "I think it's the age that matters most. A child of about seven years old, a girl. Major Waters guessed that his wife might have changed the child's name, but he didn't know." Changed to a surname, so it is even more difficult to find." "I don't think the whole thing is at all inconceivable," said Miss Bligh. "You shouldn't have done it at all, Reverend; it's very cruel to ask people to do it." "That poor fellow seems very disturbed," said the parson. "All in all it's a tragedy. I shouldn't detain you any longer," thought Twopence; with Miss Bligh for company, Mrs. Copley She loves to talk, and it is impossible for her to talk more than Miss Bligh. She is always babbling.Mrs. Copley's house was a pleasant, multi-room house at the rear of the high street.There is a clean and refreshing garden in front of the house, the white steps are very neat; the brass handles of the house are also polished, and Twopenny feels that Mrs. Copley herself is like a character who stepped out of a Dickens pen. Round, like a rolling rubber ball when approaching people.Her eyes were bright, her brown hair was curled up like a sausage, and she looked alive.She first said in a slightly skeptical tone-"Oh, you know, I usually don't accept guests at this time, and my husband and I are like 'Summer tenants, that's different,' as long as it can be done, now everyone is summer." I don't think there's anything I can do to take in more tenants, but we don't accept guests this season until July, but then again, if it's just a few days and the lady doesn't care about simplicity, maybe—" Penny said she didn't mind at all; and Mrs. Copley, looking her over carefully, continued to speak, that perhaps the lady would like to go up and look at the room before making up her mind.At this point Miss Bligh said with regret that she had to go, though she had not yet found out all she wanted to know from Twopence—such as where she came from, what her husband did, and what she wanted to know. How old is she, do she have children, etc.—but there seems to be a meeting at home, and she worries that someone else will take away her chance to chair. "You'll be all right with Mrs. Copley," she assured Twopence. "I'm sure she'll take good care of you; what about your car?" "Oh, I'll be driving in a minute;" said Twopence. "Mrs. Copley'll tell me where I'd better park. I could just park right out here. It's not a narrow street, is it?" "Oh, my husband has a better way," said Mrs. Copley. "He'll drive to the clearing for you, and turn in the alley just off the side. There's no problem parking there, and there's a little house to Stop." The matter was settled satisfactorily, and Miss Bligh hurried to the appointment.Then there was the question of supper, and Twopenny asked Mrs. Copley if there was any tavern in the village. "Oh, there's no place for ladies," said Mrs. Copley. "But if you'd like to have two eggs, a little ham..., and a little bread and homemade jam—" Twopence said it would be wonderful to have these, her room was small; but it was comfortable and refreshing, the walls The wallpaper was covered with budding roses, the beds looked soft and comfortable, and everything was clean. "Yes, that's a nice wallpaper, ma'am," said Mrs. Copley, who seemed to have decided she was single. "We chose this wallpaper for newlyweds on their honeymoon. We think it's very romantic." Twopence said agree with her. "Newlyweds these days don't have as much money to spend as they used to. Most of them are saving to buy a house or furniture. They can't spend their honeymoon in style. You know, those young people are careful, they won't Spending money indiscriminately." After she finished speaking, she went downstairs again, talking non-stop.Twopence slept on the bed for half an hour to recover from the fatigue of more than half a day.But she still had great hopes in Mrs. Copley, believing that once she regained her strength, she would be able to open up the conversation and get the most out of it.She was sure she would hear all about the house by the river, who had lived there, what the reputation was in the neighborhood, what scandals there had been, and so on.She was more confident of this when she got to know Mr. Copley--a man who rarely spoke--who said mostly "Hmm!" "Oh" and so on to express agreement, and occasionally, he will use a more silent tone to express disagreement.Twopence could see that he was content to let his wife speak, while he himself was distracted from time to time with his plans for the next day - market day.As far as twopence is concerned: this situation is so ideal that it can be expressed in a slogan-"Whatever you want, we have it." Mrs. Copley is like a radio or a TV, you just turn on the Switch on and off, and there's a torrent of words poured out with lots of gestures and facial expressions.Twopence can almost see the characters she speaks of -- come to life in front of her. Twopence ate ham, fried eggs, and thick bread with butter, and praised the excellent black strawberry jam made by the hostess; at the same time, he listened carefully to the information provided by the hostess so that he could write it down in his own account when he returned to his room. on the notebook.During this time, she seemed to hear all the past history of the region.Of course, the hostess did not speak in chronological order. Sometimes she would jump from fifteen years ago to two years ago, then to last month, and then she would talk about something in the 1920s. So two pence must be carefully separated.But she wasn't sure what she would get in the end.The first button she pressed had no effect.She mentioned Mrs. Bluecaster first. "I suppose she's from around here," said Twopenny, in a deliberately ambiguous tone. "She's got a picture—a nice one; and I think the artist's pretty well known around here." "What did you say her last name was?" "Mrs Bluecaster" "No, I don't remember anyone named Lancaster here. Lancaster - Lancaster - I remember a gentleman had an accident here, no, I'm thinking of his car - Lancaster, yes; there is no Mrs. Lancaster. Could it be Miss Bolton? I think she must be seventy now, and perhaps she married a Mr. Lancaster, and she left I went abroad here, and I heard that she is indeed married." "The picture she gave my aunt was done by a Mr. Boscombell--that's the name, I think," said Twopenny. "It's a fine jam." "I don't put the apples in like most people do, they say it's more sticky, but I think the flavor changes completely." "Yes," said Twopenny, "I quite agree with you." "Who were you talking about? All I heard was Paul--" "I think it's Boscombell." "Oh, I remember Mr Bosshowan. Fifteen years at least, I think. He used to come here a lot for a few years. He liked the place, and took a house too, on Hart Farm, It was for the servants. But then Congress built a new house for the laborers." "Mr. Bao is a painter by profession. He usually wears a funny coat, maybe velvet or something; it usually has holes. He likes to wear green or yellow shirts. Oh, he uses so many colors. I like his Painting, really like it. He has a painting exhibition every year, I think it is around Christmas, no, no, it must be summer, he doesn't come in winter. Really good paintings, but nothing particularly interesting, you Know what I mean? Usually just a room, a few trees, and two or three cows behind a fence, but it's all very well drawn, peaceful, and richly coloured. Not like some young people these days." "Are there many painters here?" "Actually not many. One or two ladies come here occasionally in the summer to do some sketches, but I don't think they do very well. A young man who called himself a painter came here a year ago; he didn't shave well. I don't like his paintings, the ridiculous colors are all over the paper, you can't see anything, but they are selling well, and the price is not cheap." "Should be five quid a piece," said Mr. Copley, who started the conversation for the first time, startling the twopence. "My husband thinks," said Mrs. Copley, again acting as narrator, "that no picture should cost more than five pounds, and that pictures are not worth much. You say so, don't you, George?" "Yeah," said George. "Mr. Boscowan painted a picture of a house by the river and a bridge—it's called 'Shuimei' or Qingqing Riverside House? I happened to be passing that house today." "Oh, you drove all the way from there, didn't you? That road is really difficult to walk, it's too narrow. I always think that house is so remote. If it were me, I would definitely not live there. It's too lonely. Do you agree? George." George made a sound of disapproval, perhaps with a touch of timid contempt for women. "That's Alice Perry's house," said Mrs. Copley.Twopenny immediately went to talk about Mr. Boscowan and his opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Perry for a while.She found that, although Mrs. Copley often liked to jump from one subject to another, there was no mistaking her tone. "That's a curious couple," said Mrs. Copley. George made a sound of agreement. "They live in their own little circle; they don't like to associate with other people. And she's queer, not at all human. I mean Alice Perry." "It's crazy," said Mr. Copley. "I don't know if I should say that, but it looks like it anyway. She has long hair flying around in the wind, wears a man's coat and big rubber shoes all day long, and speaks strangely. Sometimes I ask her She didn't answer. But I don't think she's crazy, I can only say it's weird." "Do others like her?" "In fact, although they have lived here for several years, almost no one knows her. There are often many rumors about her, but they are all legends." "Like what?" Mrs. Copley never refused to be asked directly, and was even eager to answer. "They say she summons ghosts at night, and there's will-o'-the-wisps going around their house, and she reads a lot about witchcraft, and all that. But I don't think Emers Perry is all right." "He's just too simple," said Mr. Copley, in a tone of indulgence. "Perhaps you are right, but there are also some legends about him. He likes gardens very much, but unfortunately he doesn't understand much." "They only live in half the house, don't they?" said Twopence. "Mrs. Perry is kind enough to invite me in." "Really? Did she really ask you to come in? I wonder if I will," said Mrs. Copley. "There's nothing wrong with that part where they live," said Mr. Copley. "You mean the other part?" said Twopence. "The front half by the river?" "Well, there used to be a lot of rumours, but of course, no one lived in it for years. They said the house was weird, but now people here don't remember the legends, it's been too long, you know, the house was built It has been built for about a hundred years, and I heard that it was originally built by a minister in the court for a beautiful woman." "When was Queen Victoria?" Twopenny asked with great interest. "I don't think it was at that time, the old queen was weird. I think it should have been earlier, during the reign of King George. The minister used to come to see her, and then it was said that they had a quarrel, and one night he Just kill her." "Dreadful!" said Twopence. "Has he been hanged?" "Oh, no, no, nothing of the sort. They say he buried her behind the fireplace wall, to get rid of it." "Buried in the wall behind the fireplace!" "It was also said that she was a nun, because she ran away from the monastery, so she had to be buried in the wall according to the rules of the monastery." "But the nun didn't bury her?" "No, no, he buried it, her lover. It is said that after he surrounded the fireplace with bricks, he nailed a large piece of iron outside. Anyway, no one will see her wearing beautiful clothes since then. Walked around. Of course, some people said that she went away with him. But there are still people who saw lights in the house and heard voices, and many people dare not go near the house after dark." "And then?" Twopence felt that the topic was too far away, so he nodded her again quickly. "I don't know. When the house was auctioned; I think a farmer named Blajik bought it, but he didn't live very long. He was what you call a gentleman farmer, and I think that's why he bought it." Loved the house. But the farm land wasn't useful to him, and he didn't know what to do with it, so he sold it. Anyway, the house has changed hands a few times, and several builders have remodeled it - like adding a bathroom or something Yes. There used to be a couple who had a chicken farm there, but you know they say it's a bad place, and that was all before I was born, and I think Mr. Boscowan tried to buy it, too. That's when he painted that picture." "How old was Mr. Boscowan when he came here?" "I think about forty or early forties, he has a special temperament, a little fat, very suitable for girls." "Hmph!" Mr. Copley's voice was warning this time. "Well, we all know what an artist is," said Mrs. Copley, including the twopence: "they go to France a lot, you know, and learn all about it." "He's not married?" "Not yet, I mean he wasn't married when he first came here. He was very interested in Mrs Charrington's daughter, but it didn't work out. She was a lovely girl, but too young for him." No. She's only twenty-five at the most." "Who is Mrs. Charrington?" Twopenny wondered at the new character.But when she was feeling tired, it suddenly occurred to her: "What the hell am I doing here? Listening to a lot of gossip and imagining murders, but there is no such thing. Now I finally understand-first一个头脑不清楚的老太太胡思乱想，想出这个什么鲍斯柯温先生之类的人送给她这幅画，同时谈到房子的传说，有人被活埋在壁炉里，不知道为了什么原因，她觉得那一定是个孩子。我又在这儿无中生有的胡乱调查。汤米说我是个傻瓜，一点都没错——我'的确'很傻。”于是她等着柯普莱太太的话告一个段落，以便起身礼貌地道晚安上楼。何普莱太太的兴致仍旧十分高昂。 “查林顿太太？喔，她在'青青河畔屋'住过一段短时间，”柯普莱太太说：“和她女儿一道。她是个好女人，真的，我想是位军官的遗孀，环境很不好。幸好那屋子租得便宜，可以自己种点花草，她很喜欢园艺，不过家里收拾得不大干净，我去帮过她一两次忙，可是没办法常去。你知道，我得骑自行车去，有两里多路呢。那条路上没有巴士。” “她在那边住了很久吗？” “我想顶多两三年。大概是麻烦太多，后来她自己女儿也惹上了麻烦，我记得她名字叫李丽安。”两便士喝了一日浓茶，决心把话题做个结束。“她女儿有什么麻烦？和鲍斯柯温先生？” “不，我相信绝对不是鲍斯柯温先生惹的麻烦。是另外个家伙” “另外那个人最谁？住在附近的人？” “我想不是住在附近的人，是她在伦敦遇到的。她到伦敦去念书——是学芭蕾还是艺术吧？是鲍斯柯温先生安排她去的，我记得学校名字叫史雷特。” “是史雷德吧？” “也许是。反正她就是因为常常到伦敦去才认识那家伙的，她母亲很不高兴，不许她跟他见面。其实根本没什么用她在某些方面很不聪明，你知道，就跟很多军人的太太一样。她觉得女孩子应该乖乖听大人的话，实在太跟不上时代了。她也到过印度那些地方，可是一个年轻女孩碰上英俊的年轻人就别想要她听你的话了。他常常到这里，在外面跟她见面。” “后来她就惹上麻烦了，对不对？”两便士用这种惯用的婉转说法，希望柯普莱太太不会觉得有什么不恰当。“我相信一定是他。不管怎么样，反正事情清楚得很。我看得出，很久以前她妈就跟她完全一样，她长得很漂亮，身材高高的，可是我觉得她不是那种能忍耐的女人，她会忍不住爆发出来。她常常会一个人一边乱走，一边自言自语。那小子对她并不好，发现她有麻烦之后，就一走了之。做妈妈应该有做妈妈的样子，让他知道自己该负什么责任，可是查林顿太太没那个精神，不过她总算够聪明的，锁上屋子带着女儿走了。后来房屋又要拍卖的时候，她们回来收拾过行李，可是没到村子里来，也没跟任何人说什么，以后她们就一直没有再回来，母女俩都没有。虽然有些闲言闲语，不过谁也不知道是不是真的。” “有些人就爱编故事。”柯普莱先生突然说。“嗯，这一点你说得对，不过那些传说也可能是真的，的确发生过那种事，而且我觉得那个女孩头脑也不大正常。” “谣言怎么说？”两便士说。 “喔，我实在不想说，已经隔了那么久，我又没什么把握。话是贝考克太太的露意丝传出来的，那个女孩老爱说谎，什么故事都编得出来。” “她怎么说？”两便士说。 “说查林顿家的女孩儿先杀了婴儿，然后又自杀，她妈妈伤心过度发了疯，被亲戚送到疗养院去。”两便士脑中又困惑起来，几乎觉得自己像在椅子上摇摇欲坠。查林顿太太会不会就是蓝凯斯特太太？虽然她换了姓氏，可是仍然忘不了她女儿的遭遇。柯普莱太太仍然在兴致勃勃地往下说： “我自己可从来都不相信，贝考克家的女孩什么故事都编得出来，而且我们也不大听信谣言——我们还有很多别的事要操心。乡下发生的那些事都快把我们吓呆了——真的事喔——” “怎么？出了什么事？”两便士很惊讶这么平静的小村子会发生什么大事。“我相信你一定在报上看过有关的消息。我想想看，差不多二十年了吧，你绝对看到过那些消息——说有人专门杀小孩，最先是一个九岁小女孩，有一天放学之后没回家，附近的人全部出动找她，结果在小树林里找到的时候，已经给勒死了。我一想到就忍不住发抖。好，这只是第一件案子，过了三个礼拜左右，贝辛市场那边又发生了一件。可是那地方大，只要有车的男人都很方便动手。” “后来每过一两个月就会发生一件案子，其中有一个离这里不到两里，几乎可以算就在村子里，” “警方——或者其他人——难道查不出凶手吗？” “他们的确很用心办案子，”柯普莱太太说：“马上就逮捕了贝辛市场那边的一个人，说他对他们查询工作有帮助，你也知道那是什么意思，警方以为抓到凶手了，可是往往二十四小时之后就只好放掉他，有时候是因为发现他不可能行凶或者不在命案现场附近，要不然就是有人替他提出不在场证明” “你不懂，丽芝；”柯普莱先生说：“警方也许很清楚谁是凶手——我相信他们一定知道，可是偏偏抓不到证据。” “都是那些做太太或者做妈妈，甚至做爸爸的人害的，”柯普莱太太说：“不管警方有什么想法都没用。只要那个人的母亲说：'我儿子那天明明在家吃晚饭。'或者那个人的女朋友说当天晚上跟他去看画展，他一直陪在她身边；再不就是他爸爸说一直跟儿子在田里做活，警方就一点办法也没有了。警方也许猜到这个人的妈妈、女朋友或者爸爸说了谎，可是除非另外有人能提出反证，否则警方就只能放掉嫌疑犯。那段时间真是可怕，这里的人全都坐立不安。每次听说又有孩子不见的时候，我们就会组成一个队伍到处搜索。” “嗯，那才对。”柯普莱先生说。 “组织起来之后，大家就会到处去找。有时候很快就找到了，有时候过了好几个礼拜才会找到，有时候就在女孩子家附近，大家都以为已经找过的地方发现。我想凶手一定是杀人狂。太可怕了！”柯普莱太太用正义凛然的声音说：“居然会有那种男人，真最太可怕了，应该统统枪毙、吊死才对。要是有人肯让我处罚凶手，我一定会把他们全都吊死。已经杀了很多小孩，把他关在病人院有什么用？吃的、用的全都有过得舒舒服服的。迟早还不是又放出来，说他已经恢复正常，可以回家了。这是发生在诺福克的事，我姊姊住在那儿，是她告诉我的。回家才两天，他又犯了一件案子，有些医生真是疯子，病人明明还有毛病，偏偏说已经好了！” “你不知道这里的案子可能是谁犯的吗？”两便士问：“你真的认为是陌生人？” “也许我们真的不认识，不过一定是住在这附近——呃我想是二十里之内的人，倒不一定是这个村子的人。” “你一直都这么想，丽芝。”。 “你着急得不得了，”柯普莱太太说：“觉得一定是我们附近的人，所以心里很害怕。我常常会打量别人，你也是，乔治。你常常会问自己，不知道是不是那家伙，他最近怪怪的。” “说不定他根本没什么奇怪的地方，”两便士说：“也许根本就跟其他人完全一样。” “嗯，也许你说得对。所说有些疯子外表和平常人完全一样，不过也有人说他们眼睛里有一种可怕的光芒。” “杰弗瑞——我是说这里的警官，”柯普莱先生说：“他老是说有办法。可是就没看到他们采取什么行动。” “一直没抓到凶手？” “没有，吵吵闹闹过了将近一年，事情忽然变得静悄悄了，以后附近再也没发生过那种事。我猜凶手一定走了，走得远远的。所以才有人觉得自己知道凶手是谁。” “你是说离开这里的人就有嫌疑？” “喔，你知道，那当然免不了会惹人说闲话，说某某人可能是凶手。”两便士提出下一个问题之前迟疑了一下，可是她猜想柯普莱太太既然谈兴正浓。就算她提出这个问题，也没什么关系。“你觉得凶手是谁？”两便士问。 “喔，都过了那么久了，我实在不太想说。可是人家提到好几个名字，也有人说可能是鲍斯柯温先生。” "yes?" “是啊，人家说艺术家都很奇怪，可是我觉得不是他！” “有更多人说是爱默士·派利。”柯普莱先生说。“派利太太的丈夫？” “嗯，你知道，他怪怪的，头脑又简单，那种人很可能做得出来。” “那时候他们夫妇也住在这里？” “对，不过不在'青青河畔屋'，住在离这儿四五里的一栋小屋子。我相信警方一直都很注意他。” “可是一直没找出对他不利的证据，”柯普莱太太说：“他太太老是替他说话，说他每天晚上都跟她在家。只有星期六晚上偶而到酒店坐坐，可是没有任何一件谋杀案发生在星期六晚上，所以根本没用。而且，雅丽思·派利那种人作的往往让人很相信，从来不会自相矛盾，恐吓她也没用，反正她说他不是凶手就是了。我也从来不认为他是，虽然我没什么证据，可是如果要我指出什么人最可疑的话，我觉得菲力浦爵士才嫌疑最大。” “菲力浦爵士？”又是一个新角色出现了，两便士问：“菲力浦爵士是谁？” “菲力浦·史塔克爵士，住在华伦德家的屋子——以前华伦德家人住的时候，称为'旧修道院'，后来被烧掉了。教堂墓园里有华伦德家人的坟墓，教堂里也有他们的纪念名牌，詹姆士王之后，这里住了很多华伦德家族的人。” “菲力浦爵士是华伦德家的亲戚吗？” “不是，不知道是他还是他父亲赚了很多钱，开钢铁工厂什么的。他是个怪人，工厂在北方，不过他住在这儿，一向独来独往，是人家说的隐——隐——隐什么来着？” “隐士？”两便士说。 “对，我就是说这个。你知道，他很苍白，又骨瘦如柴，很喜欢花草，是个植物专家，收集一些奇奇怪怪的野花，别人连看都懒得多看一眼。我相信他还写了一本关于植物的书。喔，不错，他很聪明，非常聪明，他太太是个好女人，也很漂亮，可是我老觉得她愁眉苦脸的。”柯普莱先生发出一个声音，说：“你太疯狂了，居然以为是菲力浦爵士。他很喜欢小孩，常常替他们开宴会。” “是啊，我知道，不但替孩子们举行庆祝会，还给他们很多可爱的奖品，让他们吃很多草莓奶茶和点心。你知道，他自己没有孩子，常常爱在路上拉住小孩，给些甜点或者硬币。可是我觉得他做得太过分了，他怪怪的。我想他太太突然离开他一定是有什么事不对劲。” “他太太什么时候离开他的？” “差不多是出事之后六个月，当时已经有三个孩子被杀了。史塔克太太突然到法国南部去，一直没再回来。要是你认识她，就知道她不是那种女人。她是个安静而且值得尊敬的淑女，不可能为了别的男人离开他，她不会做那种事，那她到底为什么离开他呢？我想一定是因为她知道某件事——发现了某件事——” “他还住在这里吗？” “不常住在这儿，每年来一两次，房门大部分都关着，不过有人照顾——村里的布莱小姐——她以前是他秘书，替他处理很多事情。” “他太太呢？” “死了，可怜的女人。出国没多久就死了，教堂里有一块她的纪念碑。她心里一定觉得很可怕，也许她本来没有把握，后来有一点怀疑她丈夫，最后得到很肯定的结果。她实在没办法忍受，所以只有离开他。” “你们女人真会胡思乱想。”柯普莱先生说。“反正我只有一句话；菲力浦爵士一定有什么不对劲就是了，他太喜欢小孩了，而且表现得很不自然。” “女人就是爱乱想。”柯普莱先生说。 柯普莱太太起身移开桌上的东西。 “时间差不多了，”她丈夫说：“再说那些可怕的往事会让这位女士做噩梦的。” “听你们谈这些事真有意思，”两便士说：“可是我实在困了，我想我该睡了。” “喔，我们也睡得很早，”柯普莱太太说：“你忙了一天一定也累了” “是啊，我好困，”两便士打个大呵欠说，“晚安，非常谢谢你们” “早上要不要叫醒你，给你一杯茶？八点会不会太早了？” “不会，八点正好，”两便士说：“不过要是太麻烦的话就不用叫我了。” “一点都不麻烦。”柯普莱太太说。 两便士拖着疲倦的脚步回到房里，拿出必要的几件用品换好衣服，梳洗过后，用力倒在床上。她对柯普莱太太说的是真话，她的确累坏了，刚才听到的话，”——回响在她头脑里，那些各式各样的人物也仿佛一个个出现在她眼前，死去的小孩——太多了，两便士要找的只是一个被埋在壁炉后面的孩子，也许那个壁炉和水湄房有关。那孩子有个洋娃娃，孩子被她母亲杀了——因为爱人弃她而去，使她精神变得十分脆弱，喔，老天，两便士想，我所用的词句实在太戏剧化了。 一切都乱糟糟的——没个时间先后顺序，让她分不清什么事是什么时候发生的。入睡之后，她做了梦。有个像幽灵似的女人从屋子的窗口往外看，烟囱里传来阵阵搔抓的声音，上面钉的一块铁板背后，也传来阵阵锤打声。锤子一声又一声地敲着，两便士醒了过来，是柯普莱太太的敲门声，她轻快地走进来，把茶放在两便上床头，拉起窗帘，说希望两便士昨晚睡得舒服，两便上觉得，她从来没看过比柯普莱太太更高兴的人。“她”从来不会做噩梦！