Chapter 7 secret corridor

This time the story started with Annabelle (Dr. Sam Hawthorne said to his guest with a sip of sherry), and I don't know how I got involved.The story happened in early May 1943. A few months ago, our army won a difficult victory in Guadalcanal Island. The Axis Powers also announced their surrender in the North African battlefield. Since the Pearl Harbor incident, optimistic The mood temporarily pervades the entire rear area. Annabelle came home late that day from her animal clinic.When she came back, I was all set for dinner. "Get out!" she said commandingly, pulling me and snatching the frying pan from my hand before I had time to react.

"Go to your paper, or find something else to do!" "I just want to help with some housework." "There will be opportunities in the future. Meg Woolitzer and I had an appointment at lunch today to meet in the evening, and she will be here in an hour, so we have to finish dinner before then." Meg Woolitzer is editor of the North Hills Advertiser, a free weekly paper published every Thursday.Newspapers were usually delivered on each front porch, and farmers could pick them up for free at some regional stores.A year ago, she acquired the newspaper from a small family in the form of property acquisition, and planned to develop it into a real newspaper.Ever since the "Sharp News" in Beishan Town closed down, something seemed to be missing here.Annabelle supports the survival of Meg's newspaper by advertising the clinic in it, and befriends Meg as a result.

"I'll have to guess," I said, grabbing a copy of my evening copy of the Boston News, "that she's asking me for an ad?" "No," Annabelle said playfully, "it's something else. But don't worry, it's not a bad thing." "I'll have to hear it to know." Meg Wulitzer is a very capable woman in her early thirties this year. She is tall and has brown hair. She always looks confident in her plans.Sometimes I meet her at town council, and she's always unafraid to speak her mind.When she visited that evening, she brought a briefcase full of newspapers, and she was accompanied by Penny Hamish, a young, pretty girl who was the paper's assistant editor.

"Sam, how are you lately?" She kissed me lightly on the face, but it made me feel like I was going to be polite before the soldiers. It seems that troubles are yet to come. "Very well, Meg. There's nothing wrong with the clinic except the common spring cold. You look well, and so does Penny." "We've been busy thinking about new ways out for the newspaper recently. When I had lunch with Annabelle today, I told her that it's time for Beishan Township to contribute more to the war effort." "We've sent a lot of boys overseas," I pointed out.

"I'm not talking about joining the military, but something that everyone can contribute. It brings us together." "We already have war bond mobilization meetings." "But there hasn't been a scrap metal fundraiser yet, other places have done it. Scrap metal means a lot to the war right now. Every family should have something they don't need - old radiators pieces, car and truck parts, obsolete farm implements, lead pipes, drain pipes, and more.” "Even a metal washboard!" interjected Penny. "Meg is going to advertise the scrap metal drive in her newspaper," explains Annabelle, "I think it's a great idea!"

Meg Woolitzer took out several newspapers from her briefcase. "You see, here's my inspiration, a newspaper in Rochester, New York. It's a weekly feature they put up, a Sherlock Holmes-like man with a deer cap and cape and a pipe in his mouth , even with a magnifying glass. He scours every corner of the city for scrap metal to do his little bit for the war effort. His name is even funnier - Onlock Holmes! Isn't it creative?" I looked at this photo and said noncommittally: "At least there is no harm." Annabelle took up the conversation: "All Meg needs is someone who can dress like Onlock Holmes and play the part of the metal detectorist."

"Who..." "I told her you would be more than happy." "Me?! Are you kidding me?" "Don't you think you're perfect, Sam? You're the greatest detective in North Hills, and everyone knows your name. When people see your picture, they start sorting out their scrap metal and wait You came to collect it." "I'm a doctor," I tried to change their minds. "The person who solved the case was Sheriff Lansi." "But it's not a crime," Meg said pleadingly, "it's for the country, and you're sure to be one of the best metal Sherlocks! Even your name is so perfect—S.H. "

After half an hour, I was really irritated by what they said, so I had to agree to this request.Meg promised to visit again with costumes and props, and I figured I'd do it at least once anyway. "I'll just make a guest appearance once. Next time you find someone else to act, just cover your face. Everyone will think that person is still me." "I'll talk about it later," she replied, "I'll try to get everything done on Saturday so I can have your glorious picture in next week's paper!" In this way, I can be regarded as making a small contribution to the war.

The town of North Hills was shrouded in a thick, cold haze Saturday morning.Although spring has indeed come with great strides, the local farmers are still idle. They churn the meager milk to supply the butter factory all day long, and at the same time they have to ensure that the cows do not go hungry, and even the only one in town All the school buses are quietly spending this Saturday.Seth Gray was working in his hood when we passed by his house.Meg sounded the horn in greeting, and then he looked up and grinned.Once or twice, Annabelle and I saw them eating together at Marx's Steakhouse.

"Let's go to Cartwhite's house," Meg Woolitzer continued to start the car and drive forward. "Although it is far away, the old man told me that he has a lot of scrap metal waiting for us to deal with." Annabelle wanted to go to the clinic first, because there was a sick parrot in need of care, and she promised to meet us at the Carterwhites' house within an hour. "Don't worry," she said to me, "I won't miss the debut of Onlock Holmes!" I muttered twice in dissatisfaction, and there was only one thought in my mind: How on earth did I get dragged into this shit?

In the driveway of the Cartwrights’ home is a minivan with “Garden Supplies For Sale” on the door.It was the time of year for the itinerant traders, and I knew old Carterwhite was fond of his garden--he was probably a regular client of them.His house was three stories high with a pointed attic roof that reminded me of Nathaniel Hawthorne.While the exterior may have been repainted, overall this is a well maintained home. We went up the steps to the front door together, and Meg asked me, "Did he tell you about the secret corridor?" I shook my head and said, "He never saw a doctor with me, claiming that he doesn't trust doctors. Except for his deteriorating hearing, his body has been normal for eighty years, so I have nothing to say." "I did a story about his garden last summer and he showed me around. He's a nice guy." "Hmm." I echoed. Because we heard the doorbell ring, someone in the house opened the door for us.Cartwhite hired a helper, a middle-aged man I know only as George, who lived with old Cartwhite and worked as housekeeper, cook, and gardener. "Come in," he said to us, "Mr. Cartwhite is waiting for you." I was already dressed in a deerstalker and cape in the car, and I don't know how he felt when he saw me dressed up, but at least he didn't say anything.Maybe he thought in his heart that I was just a little cold—although there was no chill in the oak-walled living room.I followed him into the study, Meg trailing behind with her cumbersome Graphite camera, which, because of budgetary constraints, had to act as videographer herself. "I've got to train Penny," she said. Aaron Cartwhite's hearing is so bad that he relies on hearing aids to help him talk.He sat in an overstuffed chair, the entire wall behind him was lined with books.There was another visitor in the study, a bald man in a gray coat who was proudly brandishing a nine-inch clay birdbath that looked like a cricket's house. "This is our model version of the empire, note the intricate design around the base plate." "Come in, come in!" Seeing us, Cartwright took off his hearing aids so that he could hug Meg Woolitzer with both hands, "I'm glad we meet again, Meg, please sit down!" "Hope we didn't bother you." "Of course not! Mr. Schneider is leaving soon." Schneider put down the bird pond model and took out the order record booklet from his briefcase. "Two imperial model bird ponds, may I write so, Mr. Cartwright?" "Of course, of course!" "What did you buy such a small bird-well for?" asked Meg. Cartwhite puts on a hearing aid. "Speak up, dear!" So Meg repeated the question again. He laughed loudly and said, "No, no! That's just a model sample he brought here for display. The size of the thing I actually got is much larger than that." "I'll deliver it to you within three weeks." As he said that, Schneider reached out to get the sample back. But Aaron Cartwright was faster than him, slapping his hand open with his hearing aid. "Put this here with me first, and I will need it to design the garden next time. You can take it back next time you come over." Although the salesman agreed, he was not happy.Obviously because the other party is a big customer, so it is inconvenient to disobey. "I'll give you another catalog of annuals and shrubs next time I'm here," he promised. "Are you traveling this summer?" Cartwhite laughed loudly. "Where can I go? To fight the Nazis? I'll just stay here with George." After George led the salesman out, I picked up the model of the bird pond and couldn't help but marvel at its thick texture. "The model weighs at least three or four pounds." "It's made from naturally deposited Ohio clay, and they've been producing it in real molds since the turn of the century." "His garden is beautiful," Meg told me. "Brother, may I ask your name?" Cartwhite stared at me and asked.Even though we had met before, he couldn't recognize me dressed like this. "This is Dr. Sam Hawthorne," Meg answered the question for me. "Doctor! Don't mix me with the doctor! I'm very well." Meg smiled and said, "He didn't come here to see you. I want to take a picture of him for the newspaper. Do you know Sherlock Holmes?" "I used to read it all the time." "That's easy. Sam is Onlock Holmes of North Hills. His mission is to find scrap metal to support our front line. Didn't you mention to me on the phone that there are some old heaters and other sundries in need? Handle it, I'd like to take a picture of Sam dressed as Sherlock Holmes, posing as he seeks out these treasures in your house." Aaron Cartwright sneered and said, "I'm still looking for this? They're all in the warehouse. I'll ask George to take you there. But when it comes to taking pictures, why don't you take a picture of my secret passage? This is what Holmes should have found." .” "That's right." I became interested. "Well, we can go and have a look." Meg seemed a little hesitant. Cartwhite grinned, showing a row of yellow teeth. "When my father built this house, he made a secret passage by the way. That was in 1897," he said, rising from his chair with difficulty. "My wife was still alive then. Well, I moved here 20 years ago after she died. Seeing such a big house empty and empty, I felt suffocated. Later, I bought a hot air fan to replace the heat sink, and turned old Hamish's farm Buy it, there is nothing missing here." "Where is the secret passage?" I asked. "It's right in front of your eyes." "These bookshelves?" I know that in some British mansions, people sometimes hide the doors behind the bookcases, but I didn't expect to encounter this kind of design in Beishan Town.Cartwright grabbed a bookshelf and spun it outward, and a dark staircase appeared on the wall leading upstairs. He flipped a switch at the entrance, and the lights came on above our heads. "Brilliant!" exclaimed Meg. "Sam, get out your magnifying glass, I'm going to take a picture." I kept telling myself it was for the sake of winning the war, so I followed her instructions to pose.She raised the Grafi camera and pressed the shutter, and the dazzling flash blinded me for a while. "Where does this secret passage lead?" I asked Cartwhite. "My bedroom. I keep the other side locked so no one can sneak in at night. Only I can open that combination lock. My dad is a poor sleeper and when he can't sleep he likes to come downstairs to work or read , this secret passage prevents him from affecting the rest of other people in the house. Come with me, and I will show you." We followed him up, and at the end of the secret passage, there was a bare metal door that didn't even have a handle, blocking our way. "See, my bedroom is on the other side of the door," Cartwright said. We turned and walked back, and George was standing underneath waiting. "But it's my warehouse that you're really interested in. George, take the guests to the warehouse and give them our scrap metal, and you can do whatever Miss Woolitzer wants. I'm trying to get rid of the scrap metal. " "Aren't you coming with us?" Meg was a little surprised. He shook his head and said, "I can't breathe more cold air, it's not good for my lungs." We followed George out the back door, across the damp grass to a run-down warehouse that looked like it hadn't been used in years. "How long have you been with Mr. Cartwhite?" I tried to make a conversation.He's an old face in Beishan Town, but I don't even know his last name. "This is the tenth year. I'm his nephew, George Chubb. You should have seen me in town." "Nice to meet you," I half-turned and shook hands with him, "Your uncle is really healthy and strong!" "He's getting worse and worse. I'm a light sleeper, so I'll be there as soon as he needs anything." We hear the horn and see Annabelle parked behind Meg's car. "It seems that I came just in time." She hurried towards us. George Chubb opened the warehouse door and led everyone into a dark, cobweb-strewn room full of antiques.An old buggy half-hidden behind rotting haystacks, a china cabinet with a broken glass door, a sofa gutted by rats. "The heat sink is here," George pulled out an old horse blanket and pointed it out to us. "I haven't dealt with it for so many years. I don't know why." "That's it, an absolute classic," decided Meg. "Sam, can you stand over here with your magnifying glass?" "Do I have to do this..." "Of course! National affairs are everyone's responsibility." Annabelle reminded me. I can only obey obediently.The photo, which appeared on the front page of Thursday's paper, shows me in costume, standing next to a china cabinet, staring through a magnifying glass at those "discovered" cooling fins.Meg Woolitzer's scrap metal campaign is officially underway.People have been calling me Onlock all morning, starting with my nurse, Aibo.However, this situation did not last long, because it was discovered that Aaron Cartwright was murdered on this day. The call came to my office before ten o'clock. "An emotional man," Aibo said to me, covering the microphone. "He said he was looking for a detective. I guess it was the one named Onlock Holmes?" I made a face and answered the phone. "I'm Dr. Hawthorne, what's the matter?" "Doctor, I'm George Chubb. I'm at my uncle's house. Something may have happened to him. I reckon he's badly wounded, maybe dead..." "What happened?" "Last night, as usual, he went to bed not long after ten o'clock, but he didn't get up at six o'clock this morning. He usually wakes up before this. I waited until nine o'clock, and I was really worried, so I came To his room. His bed looked like he had slept on it, but there was no one in the room. I went back to the study downstairs, but the door of the study was locked from the inside. Sometimes, he wanted to be alone Jing Yijing would do the same. I knocked hard on the door, but no one answered, and then I left for a while to make breakfast. I knew the smell of coffee would attract him, but this time it didn't work. Finally, I walked through the keyhole Saw him lying on the study floor with blood everywhere. I called the sheriff and thought I should let you know as well." "I'll be there as soon as possible." I said decisively. I hung up the phone and I told Aibo, "Old Cartwright's had an accident, and George sent me over to check it out." "But you have an appointment with Mrs. Heinesh at eleven o'clock," she reminded me. "Let's see if it can be changed to tomorrow. If it's urgent, Lincoln Jones may be able to help." Lincoln was the first black doctor in North Hills, and he recently had his own private practice, so we sometimes take care of each other's patients. "Understood, I'll give her a call." Because I was not sure about Aaron Cartwhite's condition, I took the black medical bag with me when I went out, and got into the Buick in three steps and two steps.The car has been around for years and suffers from the bumps of the country roads, but as long as the war doesn't end, I know that the desire to buy a new car will only be a wish.The good thing is that my profession has allowed me to get more gas licenses, which is more than enough. It rained nonstop all morning, and I watched the wipers on the windshield go back and forth.Sheriff Lens' car was parked in the driveway, and I followed closely behind and turned off the car.After getting out of the car and walking a few steps, I found a familiar truck also parked at the door.It was Schneider's garden supply sales van, which I had seen the last time I visited the Cartwrights.At this time, Schneider himself was standing at the door talking to Georges Chubb. "Did you get the call too?" Sergeant Lan Si arrived a moment earlier than me, and he rushed to the porch to shelter from the rain like a gust of wind. I nod. "George called me. I had a first aid kit, maybe Cartwhite was just hurt." "Come with me." George motioned for us to follow him into the house.Schneider didn't know what he said, but he finally stopped talking and stayed at the door. "What does Schneider want to do?" I asked. "He wanted to see Mr. Cartwhite. I said he was unwell." The study door is made of solid oak.It seems that it cannot be opened without a lot of effort.I knelt down and put my eyes over the keyhole and looked in.George was right, Cartwhite's body could be seen.He was lying on the ground near the desk, bleeding profusely. "We've got to find a way in," I said. "Is there a window?" "All the windows on the ground floor were nailed up, the way Cartwright's father built the house to protect his priceless antiques." "The fire station volunteer has a battering ram," said Sergeant Lens. "There should be other ways," I asked George, "can you go through the secret passage in your uncle's bedroom?" "The door of the secret passage has been locked, and only he knows the password." "Let's go upstairs and have a look." George led the way, and as he passed a closed door upstairs, he said, "This is my room, across the hall. I sleep with the door open in case uncle needs to be attended at night." He led us to the old man's bedroom.The crumpled sheets suggest that he slept here at least a little bit last night.There is a telephone and a small radio by the bed.But what interested me more was a bookshelf facing the foot of the bed.I saw this bookshelf embedded in the wall. If my sense of direction is correct, this should be the other end of the secret passage.Sure enough, we easily pulled the bookshelf out of the wall, the hinges were oiled, but disappointingly there was only a solid metal door behind the bookshelf with a combination lock. "You don't know the password?" I asked George. "I don't know. He once told me that only he can use this secret passage, so there is no need for others to know the password to open the door." The sheriff stared at the door behind my shoulder and said coldly, "You can't get in without a password. This old man really values ​​privacy." "We're going back downstairs, it's time to take violent action against that wooden door," I said helplessly. With the joint efforts of the three of us, a crack finally appeared in the door. "Sure enough, it's locked," the sheriff inspected the lock through the crack of the door. "It seems that you have to deal with another secret room case, doctor." Immediately I broke in, and with a single glance I knew that Aaron Cartwright was dead, the cracked skull saying he had died instantly.He was curled up on the carpet, but he was neatly dressed, and the murder weapon was not far from the corpse—the model bird pond was lying on the ground, covered with hair mixed with blood.Seeing this scene, George Chap turned pale. "How the hell did this happen? I didn't even hear anything." "You'd better bring that salesman at the door," I told him. "How long do you reckon he's been dead, doctor?" the sheriff asked me. "At least a few hours, the blood has dried." Then something else on the desk caught my attention. It was a North Hills Advertiser this morning. On the front page of the open newspaper was my picture: Onlock Holmes. I looked around the walls of the study and always felt as if someone was watching us.After the sheriff calls his men, I suggest that the scene be searched for hiding places. "The murderer may still be in the room." Holding the gun in one hand, he scanned the room carefully. "Looks like no one is hiding here," he concluded. "See if the other bookshelves can be moved." He did the same, but they didn't budge.I sighed: "Then there is only one place left, the secret path." "How is that possible, Doctor?" "That's the only possibility. The murderer must have killed Cartwhite with a birdbath in the study, and then bolted the door from the inside, and there was no one hiding in the study." I slowly opened the bookshelf, and the secret passage was presented to everyone. "We all know that there is a locked iron door at the other end of the secret passage. There is not even a handle on the door. The murderer must have been trapped on the steps between the two doors." I flipped the light switch where Cartwhite had turned it on last time. "Come out!" Sergeant Lan Si raised his gun and shouted into the inside. There was no echo from above.I cautiously climbed up the wooden steps, the only light bulb casting an eerie halo over our heads.At the end of the secret passage, everything was still the same as before, with the same bare iron door lying in front of us, as if we were inside a safe.I pushed the door and it didn't move like a mountain.The murderer is not in the secret passage. Will one secret passage lead to another secret passage?Nothing was impossible, so the Sheriff and I scoured every staircase, wall, and ceiling in the tunnel, but the results were dismal.I can't think of any other possibility at the moment. We went back to the study again, and I saw that Meg's assistant, Penny Hamish, had also arrived. "What's going on here?" she asked me. "I saw the sheriff's car and—" She saw the body on the ground and turned away quickly. "Aaron Cartwright was killed," I told her, "you'd better call Meg and give Meg the scoop." "Nothing is exclusive to a weekly newspaper," she complained. "By next Thursday, it will be old news." Still, she went to the side table under the banjo clock, picked up the phone, and gave the operator the newspaper's number. At this moment, I noticed Mr. Schneider, the salesman selling bird ponds.He frowned and looked sullen, obviously secretly annoyed that he had chosen such a time to visit. "What are you doing today?" "I need to get my sample back, so I brought a photo of the sample, hoping to satisfy the customer until the actual bird pond is delivered." Sergeant Lan Si muttered, "You won't be able to get this sample for a while, and the murder weapon will be kept by the police as evidence." Schneider began to protest, but immediately realized that it was futile.Penny has hung up and told us Meg Woolitzer is on her way. "She had her camera with her." "You are not allowed to photograph dead bodies," the sheriff reminded. "She should know our rules very well." Schneider couldn't sit still. "Can I go?" "I have a few questions before I go," I said. "What time did you get here?" "It's just after ten o'clock, because I'm worried that the elderly will get up late." "Mr. Cartwhite is usually up before six o'clock," repeated George, "so I was surprised not to see him at breakfast this morning." "You didn't notice anything unusual at night?" I asked, "Such as the sound of fighting?" "No." He hesitated, then added: "Only one time, towards the morning, I thought I heard the phone ring, though I'm not sure if it was just a dream, because it only rang once." Sergeant Lens took me aside and said quietly, "Doctor, this guy Chubb must have been involved. He and Cartwhite were the only ones in the house when the murder happened." "How do you explain the Chamber of Secrets?" "He had three or four hours working on the Chamber of Secrets trick, and he didn't call us until everything was ready." I can't laugh or cry. "Sheriff, haven't you noticed that the fact that he was alone at the time of the crime proved his innocence? Because this case was not a suicide, George could have opened the door a crack to create the illusion of an outsider's intrusion. Or he It is entirely possible to use these few hours to dispose of the corpse, whether it is buried or burned. No matter what method is used, creating a secret room is the most thankless." "This is a veritable chamber of secrets, Doctor." "I know." The sheriff's assistants and photographers finally arrived, along with a coroner.Birdpool, the murder weapon, was scrutinized for fingerprints, but I'm sure it was a waste of effort.After a while, Meg Woolitzer also arrived, and it was Seth Gray who came with her. Although I knew she had a good relationship with the school bus driver, I was still a little surprised. "What happened?" he asked me. "Someone killed Aaron Cartwright." I pointed in the direction of the study, where the coroner was conducting the official examination. "I was at Seth's when Penny called for me," explained Meg, not eager to explain how the assistant knew this, "so he sent me over." "Your newspaper is on his desk. My photo is on the front page. The doors and windows are locked tightly." "Do you think this is because the murderer is laughing at you, so he created another secret room murder?" "Who knows, maybe. It is worth noting that the murder weapon was used. The miniature bird pond was something in the study, and the murderer did not carry the bird pond with him. In other words, this murder may have been impulsive." A crime, not a long-planned conspiracy." "When was he killed?" "I guess it was three or four hours before we found the body. Not later than seven o'clock." She glanced at the corpse, then looked away quickly. "Strange, why is he wearing his usual clothes instead of pajamas?" "George said that he usually wakes up very early, and it may be that someone called to make an appointment, so the deceased is waiting for guests in the study." "Who is it? And what is it for?" "Meg, it was your idea to choose this place as the starting point for the scrap metal recycling project, although I don't want to ask, but there is no way, where were you around six o'clock this morning?" She blushed a little, and replied, "I'm staying at Seth's for the night. Every Wednesday night, after the papers are in, I go there to relax. We had a few drinks, and I fell asleep quickly. To me To put it bluntly, Wednesday nights are probably no different than weekends." "How did Penny know you were there? She found you with just one phone call." "She knows my habits." I glanced at Seth, who was standing across the room.Before I opened my mouth, he knew what I wanted to ask. "She was in my house all night yesterday. I can safely say she had nothing to do with it." "It looks like the killer isn't among us." I left them after Penny Hamish joined the conversation.Sergeant Lan Si was talking with Schneider in the front hall.Mr. Salesman was eager to leave this place of right and wrong, he begged: "I still have a lot of appointments..." The sheriff took me aside and asked in a low voice, "Doctor, what do you think of this fellow? What a coincidence he was visiting when Cartwhite died." "But why does he need to kill a big client? Besides, he probably wouldn't use that miniature bird pond as a murder weapon, right? That's what he wanted to take back." "I didn't expect that, doctor, but is there another explanation? Do you think Cartwhite heard something suspicious and went downstairs to check?" "I think in that case he'd send George downstairs." "Then I'm at a loss." "Give me a little more time to think about it, Sheriff. We must be missing something." I got back in the car and backed up to the main road nimbly, out of a long line of police cars and Schneider's truck.Seth Gray's car was also parked there, and Aaron Cartwhite had never seen so many visitors at the same time in his life. Annabelle got off work early this day, so I told her what happened today.Seeing my slack look, she guessed that Cartwhite's death probably had something to do with the large photos in the advertising newspapers. "Sam, you don't have to reproach yourself. It's not Meg's problem, of course. It's absurd to say you've been challenged with the Chamber of Secrets." "Then why is the newspaper on the page with my picture?" She was at a loss for words, but then said quickly, "Sam, think about what you would do if you were the murderer. I sometimes do that to sick animals." I smiled and said, "Does it work?" "Sometimes it's very clever." "Okay, let's sort out what we have so far. Someone called Carterwhite early in the morning. This person may be the murderer. Carterwhite let him into the house. The two of them went into the study and locked the door. Keep George out of the way." "What time is it?" "About six o'clock, it's already dawn at the end of spring. The murder couldn't have happened earlier than this, otherwise he should have turned on the light in the study. Considering the bloodstains had solidified and the condition of the corpse, it couldn't be eight or nine." o'clock." "The bird pond is in the study, so it doesn't look like a premeditated crime. Maybe someone called the deceased, they made an appointment to meet in the study, and then the murderer smashed his head." "And then?" I asked, "the windows are nailed up, the door is bolted from the inside, and the secret passage—if the murderer knew about it—only leads to a door that doesn't even have a handle. iron gate." Just as I finished these words, all the puzzle pieces clicked into complete patterns in my mind.I already know how the murderer escaped from the secret room, and the identity of the murderer is naturally not a problem.I have even gained insight into the motive of the crime. "I'm going out for a while," I told Annabelle. "Don't be a fool, Sam." "rest assured." I drove to Meg Woolitzer's office, which was originally a street store near the town square, and now serves as the editorial office of the newspaper.Even though it was the evening of the paper's issue day, I was fairly sure she was still working, which of course had to do with the Aaron Cartwright case.I went inside and she gave me a slightly sad smile.Penny was busy in the back office. "Good evening, Sam. I am very sorry. I am restless at the thought that that picture of Onlock Holmes has anything to do with the murder." I pulled a chair and sat down opposite her. "On the contrary. I'm afraid the key to the case lies in this photograph. Meg, I think I must tell you myself." "Do you know how the murderer got out of that room?" "Of course, more importantly, I know how that advertisement got into that room." "What did you say?" “似乎没有人关心你的报纸怎么会在早上六点就出现在卡特怀特的书桌上。投递员只负责把报纸送到镇上的人家，卡特怀特家不在这个范围里。就算是镇上的报纸，也不太可能这么早送到。还记得我早上问你六点钟在哪里吗，因为唯一的答案是，报纸是凶手带过去的。” “那你的意思是凶手是我了？” 我看着她身后的潘妮·哈米许，她已经站在门背后听我们说话了。 “不是，我说的是潘妮。” 她从门口走到我面前。 “因为这个？就因为我可以拿劭最早下印的报纸？” “这只是部分原因。为什么凶手要把报纸带到卡特怀特的住处呢？因为她有某种理由，必须让死者看到这份报纸。虽然梅格拍照的时候你不在，但是当你看到照片的时候，发现了某种熟悉的东西，不是吗？不是昂洛克·福尔摩斯发现的废旧散热片，而是背景里的某个东西——一只玻璃门坏了的瓷器柜。我记得早些年，卡特怀特把老哈米许的农场购入名下。这原本是你们家的财产，没错吧？所以我怀疑那个瓷器柜也是这次收购的一部分。因为某种原因，这个柜子就这样被束之高阁，这可不是你希望看到的。尽管你可能早就在办公室看过了这张照片，但直到付印的时候你才认出了熟悉的物事。你一大早打电话给卡特怀特，要求和他见面。而死者也确实身着正装——这说明来访者是一名女性，他让你进屋后，把你带到书房，并闩上了门以防乔治打扰。后来你们发生了争执，暴怒之下，你抓起鸟池给他脑袋上来了一下。” 潘妮·哈米许紧张地舔着嘴唇，我知道我推理中了七八分。 “如果人是我杀的，我要怎么才能从那个屋子里出去？”她仍然不服气，可我对此早有准备。 “房间根本没锁，”我轻描淡写地说，“我是说案发的时候。” “没锁？”梅格机械地问。 “清早六点要接待一位女性来客，老亚伦可不希望从卧室出去，这样会经过乔治的卧室，那扇门一向是不关的。乔治睡得浅，很可能被惊醒。于是亚伦打开了只有自己知道密码的通往秘道的铁门，他下到书房，静候你到来。因为门背面既没有把手，也没有密码盘，所以他只能让门开着。毫无疑问楼下书架后面的门也是半开着。等你杀了人后——” “他说只要我和他……和他上床，他就把柜子还给我们。说着，他就用那双又潮又黏的手来拉我胳膊。我只好打了他……” “潘妮！”梅格走到她身旁，温柔地抱着这个可怜的孩子。 “你害怕乔治听到响动，所以不敢打开书房的门。相反的，你选择了那条通往死者卧室的秘道，关上身后的铁门并躲在那里，我猜是床底下吧。” “嗯。”她嗫嚅道。 “乔治下楼后，透过钥匙孔知道出了事，于是打电话给警长和我，趁此机会，你轻易地从卧室里溜出来，并且躲在楼上别的地方。等所有人赶到后，你再装作刚刚到达的样子，打电话给梅格报告凶杀案的消息。不过我离开卡特怀特家的时候，注意到车道上唯独没有你的车。你把车停在哪里了，潘妮？” “继续往前开，有一些树丛。我不希望有人这么早看到我出现在这里，所以把车停在那里。” “他以前有没有暗示过你？”梅格问。 “老天，他老得都可以当我爷爷了！”她转向我，“霍桑医生，您这里说得不对，他闩上门是要防止乔治闯进来坏了他的好事。” 梅格无奈地摇了摇头。 “潘妮，你不该一个人去的，太傻了。” “看到我们家那个瓷器柜的时候，我简直气疯了！他声称是有人从我们家偷出来的，但怎么到他这里的，他也说不清，反正一直就放在那个仓库里。” “我们现在怎么办？”梅格·伍立策问我。 潘妮抢在我前面回答：“打电话给蓝思警长吧。然后继续工作，我们出一期增刊，梅格。我会给你提供一份头版的凶手访谈。这么一来，广告报就像一份真正的报纸啦！”

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Notes: .本文之所以提到霍桑，是因为他写过一本名为《七个尖角阁的房子》的小说。七个尖角阁的房子是位于萨勒姆的一栋“特纳·英格索尔”房子，霍桑父亲的表妹苏姗娜·英格索尔隐居于其中，卡特怀特的房子也有一个尖角阁。