Chapter 1 The Bridge Mystery
"You always hear that everything used to be better than it is now. Well, I don't know that. Medically it's never going to be better than it is now. I'm speaking from experience, because I started working as a country doctor in New England at nineteen. Twenty-two years. Seems like a lifetime ago now, doesn't it? Oh, it's like a lifetime!
"However, I want to tell you that there is one thing that is better than now—that is, the unsolved mystery. The mystery that happened to ordinary people like you and me is really true. I have read many mystery novels in my life, but Nothing has ever compared to what I have personally experienced.
"For example, my first winter there. A man drove a carriage into a bridge in the snow, and never came out the other way. The man and the horse and the cart all disappeared from the ground. , as if it never existed!
"Would you like to hear about it? Well, it won't take long to tell, pull up your chair and let me get us some-er-drinks."
I started practicing in Beishan Town on January 22, 1922 (the old man began to speak).I always remember that date because it was the day Pope Benedict XV died.I'm not a Catholic myself, but there are a lot of people in that part of New England who are.The death of the Pope was more news that day than the opening of Dr. Sam Hawthorne's clinic.Having said that, it was enough for me to hire a pudgy woman named Aibo as a nurse, buy some second-hand furniture, and settle down. Just a year out of medical school, I'm fairly new to the line.But it is easy for me to make friends, especially the farmers near the stream.I had come to town in my 1921 Rattle Arrow convertible, a bright yellow luxury car that cost my parents nearly seven thousand dollars for me as a graduation present.It only took me a day to learn not to drive a Squiggle convertible on a farm in New England.In fact, they hadn't even seen it before. The car problem was solved quickly because of the winter, because I found that people who are lucky enough to buy a car in that area, the way to take care of the car in cold weather is to drain the gas tank, frame the car with wood or bricks, and wait for spring. Let's talk.In those days, people had to rely on horse-drawn carts to walk in the snow. I don't think it was a problem for me, and in a way, it made me one of them. When the snow got too deep, they took out the sleds.But this winter is not much easier than usual, the cold weather makes Snake Creek so cold that it can be used for skating.But there was surprisingly little snow on the ground, and the road was clean. On Tuesday morning, the first week in March, I drove up the Northern Highway to the farm of Jacob and Sarah Brinlow.There was an inch or two of snow that night, but that was nothing, and I was anxious to have Sarah's weekly doctor's appointment.She has been unwell since I first arrived in town, and my visits to the farm every Tuesday have become a routine. This day, as usual.The place seemed to be packed with people.In addition to Jacob and his wife, there were three children—Hank, the handsome older son of twenty-five, who helped his father run the farm.And Susan and Sally, sixteen-year-old twin daughters.Hank's fiancée, Miri O'Brien, was there too, and she was a frequent visitor these days.Miri is a year younger than Hank, and they really are very much in love.The wedding has been set for May, and it will definitely be a big event.As the better days drew closer, not even the gossip that Miri shouldn't have married into a non-Catholic family stopped. "Hello, Dr. Sam," Sally greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. I love the warmth of the fire after a long drive in the snow and ice. "Hello, Sally. How is your mother today?" "She's in bed now, but she looks fine." "Well, we can get her out of bed right now." Jacob Brynlow and his son came in by the side door, stamping the snow off their shoes. "Hi, Dr. Sam," Jacob said.He was a big, tall man, full of anger like an Old Testament prophet.His son Hank looked thin and small next to him, as if a little underfed. "Hello," I said. "It's cold this morning." "Exactly, Sally, get Dr Sam a cup of coffee—didn't you see he was freezing?" I nodded to Hank. "Outside chopping firewood?" "There's always firewood to chop." Hank Brinlow was a very pleasant young man, about my age.I don't think he fits in on his dad's farm, and I'm happy to get him out of here after we're married.The only books and magazines in the house were Hank's, and he had the demeanor of a boisterous scholar rather than a hard-working farmer.I know he and Miri plan to move to town when they're married, and I think that's a good thing for both of them. Miri seems to be busy in the kitchen every time I'm here.Maybe she wanted the family to think she would be a good wife for Hank, a pretty girl by the town's standards, though I'd seen prettier ones in college. She carefully took the coffee mug from little Sally and brought it to me while I was looking for a place to sit. "Just move that pile of magazines, Dr. Sam," she said. "Two issues of Hearst International Monthly?" You rarely see this magazine in the farmhouse. "February and March. Hank is watching the new Sherlock Holmes in two installments." "It's really good," I said, "I saw a lot of it when I was in medical school." She smiled brightly at me. "Maybe you can be a writer like Conan Doyle," she said. "Probably not." The coffee is good and warms me up after a cold drive. "I should really go and see Mrs. Brinlow first, and wait until I finish my coffee." "You'll find her in good spirits." Sarah Brinlow's room was on the top floor, and the first time I entered that room in January, I saw a frail, pale woman in her fifties, with thick skin and slow reflexes, far from the It seems not far away.It's a different picture now.Even that room seemed much brighter, and Sarah Brinlow was much more alive than I had seen before.Sitting on the bed, a bright pink scarf draped over her shoulders, she greeted me with a smile. "Look, I'm getting better! Do you think I'll be out of bed this week?" Her ailment would probably today be classified as a so-called myxedema caused by a dysfunctional thyroid gland.But we didn't have such a fancy name back then.I treat her and she improves, that's all I care about. "Let's put it this way, Sarah, you stay in bed until Friday, and then if you feel like getting out of bed, you can get out of bed," I winked at her because I knew she liked me that way. "Really speaking, I bet you have already sneaked out of bed!" "Hey, how do you know? Doctor?" "When Sally met me at the door, I asked you how you were. She said you were lying on the bed, but you looked fine. Well, where else could you be? The only reason she would say that It's just that you've been getting out of bed sometimes recently and walking around." "My God, Dr. Sam! You should be a detective!" "Being a doctor is busy enough," I said, taking her pulse and blood pressure. "I think it will snow again this morning." "Exactly! The kids have to shovel the snow before they can skate." "The wedding is getting closer, too, isn't it?" I figured the impending wedding would do a lot for her recovery. "Yeah, there's only two months left, and it's going to be one of the happy days of my life. I think Jacob's going to have a hard time without Hank helping out on the farm, but he'll figure it out, me and He said the kid was twenty-five years old—it was time for him to live his own life." "Millie looks like a nice girl." "Couldn't be better! She's a Catholic, of course, but we don't think that's a fault in her. Of course her parents wanted her to marry Walter Ramsay on the farm next door, because that farm is now his." Yeah, but Walter's in his thirties—too old for a girl like Milly. I guess she knew that when she broke up with him." There was a light knock on the door and Susan, the other twin daughter, entered. "Mom, Hank is about to leave and he's asking where the applesauce for Milly's mother is." "My God. I almost forgot! Tell him to get a bottle from the shelf in the cellar." After she left.I said, "Your two daughters are so cute." "Really, isn't it? They are as tall as their father, can you tell who they are?" I nodded. "They're an age when they want to be individual, and Sally's hair is done a little differently." "Hank used to bluff us with them when they were younger. Swapping seats and stuff." Then, seeing me close the purse, her eyes suddenly became serious. "I'm better, Dr. Sam, aren't I?" "It's much better. Your skin, which used to get thicker, is gone, and you're much more responsive." I leave her medicine for her.Go back downstairs.Hank Brinlow put on a fur-collared overcoat and was on his way to Millie's.That's about two miles up the winding road.Pass Remsey's farm.We still have to cross that bridge. Hank picked up the glass jar of one-sixth gallon applesauce and said, "Would you come with us, Dr. Sam? Millie's dad sprained his foot last week and he never saw a doctor. But since You're nearby, maybe I can ask you to take a look." Miri seemed surprised to hear his request, but I didn't object. "Well, I will drive my carriage and follow you." Outside, Hank said, "Millie. You take Dr. Sam's buggy so he doesn't get lost." She snorted at the words and said, "This road doesn't lead anywhere else, Hank." But she climbed into my carriage, and I took the reins. "I hear you have a fancy yellow car. Dr. Sam." "Right now on blocks until spring. This little wagon is good enough for me." My wagon was nearly identical to Hank's—a four-wheeled wagon with only one seat for two , with a horse-drawn cart.The cloth awning above can keep out the sun and rain, but not the cold.It is very cold to drive in a horse-drawn carriage in the New England winter. The road ahead was winding, with woods on both sides.Although it was almost noon, there was only traces of Hank's wagon on the freshly snowed road ahead of us.Not many people take this route in winter.We hadn't gone very far when Hank picked up speed, rounded a bend, and disappeared from sight. "Hank seems very different from his dad," I said casually. "That's because Jacob was his stepfather," Miri explained, "Sarah's first husband - Hank's biological father - died of typhoid fever when he was a baby. She remarried, The twins were born later." "That explains why it took so long." "It's been that long?" "Hank and his two sisters are nine years apart. Farm families generally have very close children." Hank's wagon was too far ahead of us to see, but now we see Ramsay's farm.We had to pause because Walter Ramsey was driving a herd of cows back to the barn and got in the way.He waved his hand and said, "Hank just passed by." "I know," replied Milly loudly, "he's going so fast we can't keep up with him." After the cattle had passed, I picked up speed, still following the ruts left by Hank's wagon in the snow.When we round the next bend.I thought we'd see him, because the road was straight now and there were no trees on either side.But there was only the house bridge ahead, and the empty road on either side of it leading to O'Brien's farm. "Where has he been?" Miri asked, bewildered. "He must be waiting for us inside the bridge." We couldn't see all the way across the bridge from our point of view. "Very likely," she agreed, with a chuckle. "He always says all the bridges are kissing bridges, and that's not true at all." "Over there in my hometown—" I just started, then stopped.Now we can see inside the bridge, and there is no carriage waiting inside. "Well, he did go in. You can still see the marks on the snow." "But—" Miri rose from her seat, "there's something on the bridge. What is it?" We came as far as the entrance of the bridge, and I reined in the horse.There were no windows in the side walls of the bridge, but enough light came in from the ends and from the gaps in the planks to be seen clearly.I get out of the carriage. "That's his bottle of applesauce," I said, "that fell off the wagon and broke." But Miri wasn't looking at the bottle of applesauce.She was staring straight at the unmarked snow beyond the fifty-foot bridge. "Doctor Sam!" "What's up?" "No wheel-marks over the bridge! He went into the bridge, but he didn't go out! Where's he, Dr. Sam?"
OMG!She was right.Traces of Hank's horse and cart lead into the bridge.In fact, you can see those wet snowmelt marks for about a few feet, and then gradually fade away. But there were no horses or carts inside.No Hank Brinlow. Only the bottle of applesauce he had been carrying was broken on the floor. But if there were no marks in the snow across the bridge, he must—he must—still be here!My eyes moved up to the wooden supports that held the whole bridge up. There was nothing there but the beams and the roof.The bridge is very strong and protected from wind and rain under the roof.The side walls on both sides are also solid and undamaged, and only squirrels can hide in the cracks between the planks. "What's the trick here," I said to Miri, "he must be here." "But where?" I walked to the other side of the bridge, carefully looked at the smooth and unmarked snow, and turned around from the corner of the bridge to see the frozen river surface of Snake Creek.The skaters hadn't come to shovel the snow off, and there was no sign of it, like everywhere else.Even if the carriage had a way to pass through the bottom of the wooden bridge or the side wall, no matter where it went, it was impossible to leave traces.Hank drove his buggy into the house bridge just a minute before Miri and I followed, dropped his big bottle of applesauce, and disappeared without a trace. "We've got to get someone to help," I said.My instinct told me not to go to Miri's house and mess up the snow across the bridge. "Wait here, I'll run back to Remsey's farm." I found Walter Ramsay in the barn with the cows, forking the hay out of the haystacks. "Hi, doctor," he called me from the shelf, "what's the matter?" "Hank Brinlow seems to be missing. I've never seen anything like it. Do you have a phone here?" "Of course, doctor," he said, hopping down to the ground, "come in." As I followed him through the snow, I asked, "Is there anything weird about Hank walking past you?" "What? No. He's curled up in the cold, but I know it's him. I put the cow to the side of the road and let him pass." "Did he say anything?" "No, I just waved my hand." "So you didn't actually see his face or hear his voice?" Walter Ramsey turned to face me. "Er—no. But, hell, I've known Hank for so long! He's right." I think it must be, there is no place on that road where the driver can be replaced, and even if the driver is replaced, how can the replaced person disappear without a trace? I took the phone that Walter Ramsay handed me.Shake it, ask the operator to pick up Brynlow's farm, and one of the twin sisters will answer the phone. "I'm Dr. Sam. We seem to have lost your brother. He didn't come home?" "No, isn't he with you?" "Not now. Is your father there?" "He's out in the field, do you want to find your mother?" "No, she should be lying on the bed." No need to disturb her yet.I hung up and called O'Brien's farm again, same result.Millie's brother Larry answered the phone. He didn't see Hank, but he promised to start walking towards the bridge right away, looking for wagon wheels or footprints. "Is there any result?" Remsey asked after I finished the call. "Not yet. You didn't pay attention to him after he passed?" Remsey shook his head. "I'm busy driving cattle." I went back outside and walked to the bridge, with Ramsay following me and Miri standing beside my carriage.A very worried look. "Did you find him?" she asked. I shook my head. "Your brother is coming this way." While Ramsay and I went over every inch of the bridge, Miri just stood on the other side of the bridge, waiting for her brother to come.I guess she needs him for support at this point.Larry O'Brien was young, handsome and likable--good friends with Hank Brinlow and Walter Ramsey.My nurse Albert told me that Walter inherited the farm when his parents died.When he planted in the first season, both Larry and Hank went to help him.She also told me that although they were good friends, Larry objected to Hank marrying his sister.Probably like some older brothers, he always feels that no one is worthy of his sister. When Larry arrived, there was nothing new to tell us. "There is no trace from here to the farm," he confirmed. I suddenly thought of one thing. "Wait a minute! If there's no sign of it, how did you get here this morning, Miri?" "I was at his house with Hank last night. After it started snowing, the whole family insisted that I spend the night there. It was only an inch or two." She seemed to sense an unspoken question, adding The previous sentence said: "I sleep with the twins in their big bed." Larry looks at me. "What do you think should be done?" I looked down at the shattered bottle of applesauce that everyone carefully avoided. "I think we'd better call Sheriff Lens."
Sergeant Lens is a fat man, slow in movement and slow in thinking (continued Dr. Sam).He probably never had a bigger case than a stolen carriage—certainly nothing like being lost on a bridge.He listened to this with a groan, and then threw up his hands in panic. "It's not going to be what you say it is. It's not possible at all. Impossible doesn't make sense. I think you're kidding me—or three weeks earlier to make an April Fool's joke." About this time, the stress finally got too much for Miri, and she fell to the floor crying, and Larry and I sent her home.Their dad, Vincent O'Brien, met us at the door. "What's going on?" he asked Larry. "What happened to her?" "Hank is gone." "Missing? You mean you ran away with another woman?" "No, it's not that kind of thing." While Larry was helping Miri back to her room, I followed Vincent into the kitchen.He wasn't an ax swinger like Jacob Brinlow, but he had the muscles of a lifetime in the fields. "Hank wants me to come with you," I explained, "saying you hurt your foot." "It's nothing, I twisted my ankle chopping wood." "Can I have a look?" "No need." But he reluctantly pulled up his trouser legs, and I bent down to check. There was still swelling and bruising, but the worst was over. "Not too bad," I agreed, "but you should soak in hot water." After I looked around to make sure no one would hear us, I lowered my voice and said, "Your first thought It's Hank Brinlow who ran off with another woman. Who's on your mind?" He looked uncomfortable. "No one." "It could be a serious matter, Mr. O'Brien." He thought about it, and finally said, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy that my daughter is marrying a non-Catholic man, and Larry feels the same way, and besides, Hank is hanging out with some girls in town. .” "For example, who is it?" "Like Jill Paige at the bank. It wouldn't be a surprise if he ran off with her." I saw Milly coming downstairs and I raised my voice a little. "You're going to soak your ankles, you're going to use hot water." "Any news?" Miri asked.She has returned to normal, but her face is still pale. "No news, but I dare say he will show up. Does he have a habit of playing tricks?" "Sometimes he bluffs about Susan and Sally, you mean that?" "Don't know what I'm talking about," I admitted, "but he seemed anxious to get you in my car. Maybe there's a reason for that." I stayed for lunch because no news came in.I just started back to town by myself, and when I passed the bridge, Inspector Lence and a few others were still there, but I didn't stop, and I could see that they hadn't the slightest clue to solve the mystery. , and I was in a hurry to get there before the bank closed.
Jill Page was a sharp-eyed blonde, and the kind of person who would never be happy in a small New England town.She answered my questions about Hank Brinlow with the sullen mistrust she presumably feels about all men. "Do you know where he is, Jill?" "How do I know where he is?" "Are you planning to elope with him before he gets married?" "Ha! I ran off with him? Tell you, if Miri O'Brien wants him that badly, give it to her!" The bank was closing for the day when she went back to count the cash in her drawer. "Besides, I've heard men get tired of married life after a while. I might see him in town again. But I'm never going to elope with him and be tied up with a man! " I saw Roberts, the manager of the bank, watching us.I can't help but wonder why they keep hiring girls like Jill, I guess she's one of the least popular among the female customers of this bank. As I was leaving the bank, I saw Sergeant Lens go into the grocery store across the street.I followed and stopped him in front of the pickle bucket. "Any news, Sheriff?" "I give up, Doctor, he didn't come out of the bridge, wherever he is." This grocery store is right next door to my clinic, and it's a cozy place with hunks of cheese, tubs of flour, and bottles of toffee.The owner's name was Max, and his big Scotch collie always slept on the ground near the pot-bellied stove.Max came around from behind the counter to find us and said, "Everyone's been talking about Hank, what do you think is going on?" "Don't know," I admitted. "Could a plane fly over and lift everything up?" "I just followed him in my buggy. There were no planes." I glanced out the window and saw Jill Page leave the bank with the manager named Roberts. "I've heard people say that Hank and Jill Page are on good terms. Is that true?" Max scratched the stubble on his chin and said with a laugh, "Everyone in town is on good terms with Jill, including old Roberts. That's nothing." "I think so," I agreed.But even if it was nothing to Hank Brinlow, did it mean anything to Miri's father and brother? Sergeant Lens left the grocery store with me, promising to keep me informed while I headed back to my clinic next door, where my nurse, Aibo, was waiting to hear all the details. "My God, you're famous, Dr. Sam! The calls never stop." "It's too bad this kind of thing is famous. I haven't seen anything." "That's the point. They wouldn't believe it in anyone else—but you are different." I sigh.Kick off your wet boots. "I'm nothing more than a country doctor, Ib." She's a happy fat woman in her thirties, and I've never regretted hiring her on my first day in town. "They think you're smarter than most people, Dr. Sam." "Oh, no way." "They think you can solve the mystery." Who else said I was a detective that day?Sarah Brinlow? "Why would they think that?" "I suppose it's because you're the first doctor in town to drive a Snap Arrow convertible." I scolded her angrily, but she couldn't stop laughing, and I laughed too.There were a few patients waiting in the waiting room outside, so I went to see them. It was a very different day than usual, but I had to see a doctor anyway.At dusk, after the consultation is over.The weather has gotten warmer.The temperature was around forty degrees Fahrenheit, and it started to rain lightly. "The snow will melt away now," said Aibo as I was getting ready to go home. "Yes, that's true." "Maybe there's a clue." I nodded, but didn't believe it.Hank Brinlow has long since gone far.There was no way Melting Snow would bring him back. At four o'clock in the middle of the night, the phone rang and woke me up. "I'm Sergeant Lan Si, doctor." The other party said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have an errand for you to do." "What's up?" "We've found Hank Brinlow." "Where?" "On Post Road, ten miles south of town, he sat in his carriage, as if stopped to rest." "Is he—?" "Dead, Doctor. That's why I asked you to come, someone shot him in the back of the head."
It took me nearly an hour (continued Dr. Sam) to get to the scene, driving my wagon as fast as I could through the slippery and muddy country road.Although the night was not so cold, the rain chilled me to the bone as I drove in the dark on my dreadful mission.I kept thinking about Miri O'Brien, and Hank's mother, who was just recovering from a long illness.How much of a blow will this news have on them? Sergeant Lan Si put some lanterns on the road. When I drove past, I could see the gloomy lights.He helped me out of the carriage.I walked towards the small circle of people around the other carriage.Two of them were deputy sheriffs, and the other was a farmer who lived nearby.They didn't move the body—Hank was still slumped in the corner of the seat, with his feet on the front of the wagon. I gasped when I saw the back of his head. "Shotgun," I said simply. "Can you be sure that this is the scene of the crime, doctor?" "I'm afraid not," I said, turning to the farmer. "Did you find him?" The man nodded and repeated the story he had apparently told them. "My wife heard the hooves of the horses. Nobody came on our road in the middle of the night, so I went outside to have a look and saw him like this." In the light of the lantern, I noticed one thing—a round mark on the horse's belly that seemed to hurt to the touch. "Look, Sheriff." "what is this?" "Scald. The murderer put Hank in the wagon, tied the bridle, burned the horse with cigar smoke or something, and let it go. It probably took miles before it stopped." Lan Si gestured towards his two subordinates. "Let's take him back to town. There's nothing else here." He turned to me again and said, "At least there's someone else." "Yes, found him. But we still don't know what happened on that bridge, except that it wasn't a joke."
The funeral took place two days later, and on that Friday morning, a pale winter sun struggled through the clouds, casting long March shadows on the headstones in the small town cemetery.The Brinlows were there, of course, and Miri's parents, and the town.After the funeral, many people returned to Brinlow's farm.This is a traditional custom in the countryside, no matter how sad it is, there are many neighbors who give food to this family. I am sitting in the living room.Stay away from other people.The bank manager named Roberts came up to me. "Has the sheriff found anything?" he asked. "Not as far as I know." "It's a real puzzle. Not just how it happened, but why." "do not know why?" He nodded. "If you want to kill someone, just do it, and you won't come up with any weird tricks to make him disappear first. What's the point?" I thought about this question for a while, but there was no answer.After Roberts left, I went over to Sarah Brinlow and asked her if she was all right.She looked at me tiredly and said, "I'll bury my son the first day I can get out of bed." It's hard to say anything about a mother's grief.I saw Max bring in a bag of groceries from his store, and I went over to help.But my eyes caught something on the living room table. It was the March issue of Hearst International Monthly.I remember Hank had read Sherlock Holmes serialized in February and March.I found the February issue under a pile of old newspapers, and turned to the Sherlock Holmes story. The novel is divided into two parts, titled . bridge? I found a quiet corner and sat down to read a book. It only took me half an hour.After reading it, I went to Walter Ramsay on the farm next door.He was standing on the side porch with Larry O'Brien, and when he saw me coming he said, "Larry's got some good bootleg wine in his wagon, would you like a drink?" "No, thanks, Walter, but you can do something else for me. Have you got a very strong rope in your barn?" He frowned and thought about it. "I think so." "Can we drive over now? I just read something that made me think of how Hank disappeared over the bridge." We got into his carriage and walked a mile up the winding road to his farm.By this time the snow had melted and the cows were near the water trough by the barn.Walter led me in, past the empty barns, the milk pails, and the wagon wheels, to a large tool shed attached at the back.Among the assorted tools he found an old twelve-foot piece of rope. "Is this okay?" "That's what you want. Come with me to the bridge?" The ice on the river was still firm, though the roads had turned to mud.I handed one end of the rope to Walter, and lowered the other end until I touched the frozen river. "What is this for?" he asked. "I read a story about a gun being dragged into the water and disappearing from a bridge." He looked puzzled. "But it's impossible for Hank's carriage to reach the river. The ice on the river hasn't broken." "I still think it tells me something. Thanks for letting me use the rope." He sent me back to Brinlow's house. Although he felt strange, he didn't ask any more questions.The condolence guests began to leave and go home, and I found Sheriff Lens. "I have an idea about that mystery, Sheriff, but it's kind of crazy." "In this case, even crazy ideas are good." Jacob Brinlow turned from the other side of the house with a twin daughter, his tall frame not overwhelmed by the funeral chores. "What's the matter, Sheriff?" he asked. "Still looking for clues?" "Maybe there's a clue," I said. "I've got an idea." He looked me up and down, probably blaming me for what happened to his stepson. "You'd better be your doctor," he mumbled a little.I know he just drank from Larry's bottle. "Go see my wife, I think there's something wrong with her." I went into the house and found Sarah pale.Looks tired.I ordered her to go to bed, and she went to bed without saying a word.Max was leaving, and the O'Brien family was leaving, and the bank manager was gone long ago, but when I got back on the porch, Jacob Brinlow was still waiting for me.He was looking for trouble, probably the result of heartbreak mixed with smuggled whiskey. "The sheriff says you know who killed Hank." "I didn't say that, I just had an idea." "Tell me, tell us all!" He spoke so loudly that both Larry O'Brien and Miri stopped to listen.Walter Ramsey also came over, and in the distance near some carriages, I saw Jill Page who was working at the bank.I didn't see her at the funeral, but she came to pay Hank her last respects. "We can go inside and talk," I replied, keeping my voice down. "You're bluffing! You don't know anything!" I took a deep breath. “好吧，既然你要这样。汉克在生前刚看完一篇福尔摩斯的探案。另外还有一篇他大概在多年前看过，在那篇小说里，福尔摩斯要华生注意晚上那只狗的怪事。我也要再重复一遍他这句话。” “可这回没啥晚上的狗，”蓝思警长指出道，“这该死的案子里根本就没有狗！” “是我的错，”我说，“那就让我请你们注意白天的那群牛的怪事。” 就在这时候，华特·雷姆赛从人群中拔腿就往他的马车跑过去。“抓住他，警长！”我大声叫道，“他就是凶手！”
回到我的诊所之后，我又得全部再跟爱玻说一遍，因为她当时不在场，而且别人说的她都不相信。“说嘛，山姆医生！那群牛怎么会告诉你说华特是凶手呢？” “我们经过的时候。他正把那群牛赶回谷仓去，可是从哪里赶回去呢？母牛不会到雪地去吃草。而水槽就在谷仓旁边，并不是在路的对面，那群牛之所以在我们面前横过马路，唯一可能的原因就是要弄掉汉克的马和车的痕迹。 “除了那群牛踩过的地方之外，整片雪地上只有一条马车的印子——从布林洛农场到那座屋桥，我们知道汉克离开了农场，如果他没有到那座屋桥的话，无论他发生了什么事，事情都出在那群牛过马路的地方。” “可是马车的印子！你跟在他后面，只差一分钟呢，山姆医生。这些时间不足以让他造出那些印子来！” 我微微一笑，像最初想到的时候一样重新再推论一遍。“银行经理劳勃士和夏洛克·福尔摩斯一起回答了这个问题。劳勃士问为什么——凶手为什么要搞出那么多麻烦？答案是他并没有做这些。搞出这些麻烦来的不是凶手，而是汉克·布林洛。 “我们早知道他会拿他双胞胎妹妹来骗人家，让人家弄不清谁是谁，我们也知道他最近才看过。那里面说的是一件在桥上发生看似不可能的自杀事件。猜想是他安排这个大玩笑，应该不会太离谱——安排他自己在屋桥里消失了踪影。” “可是怎么做法呢，山姆医生？”爱玻想要知道，“我也看了那篇夏洛克·福尔摩斯的探案，里面没有一点和这件事有关的。” “对。可是一旦知道了那大白天赶牛的目的之后，就知道谷仓那边的辙印玩了花样。可能发生的事只有一件——汉克的马车转离了路，开进了谷仓。从路上到桥上的车印子是假造的。” “怎么做法？”她又说了一遍，对这件事还是一个字也不信。 “更重要的问题是什么时候。因为在我们赶上来的那一分钟里来不及假造辙印，所以一定是早就做好了。在这个计划里，汉克和华特·雷姆赛必定是同谋，华特在那天早上雪停之后出去，带着两个旧车轮，用一根车轴连在一起。在他的靴了上绑上一两吋厚的木块，木块底下钉上马蹄铁。 “他只要在雪地里沿着路往前走，把那对车轮在前面推着，走到屋桥里深到够在雪地里留下印子的地方，然后把靴子上的木块反过来，再推着车轮往回走。其结果就留下了看起来像是一只四脚动物拉着一辆四轮马车的印子。” “可是——”爱玻开始反驳。 “我知道，我知道！人跑起来不像马，可是只要练一练，就能把脚印的间隔弄得看起来够像，我可以打赌汉克和华特在等着碰上正好刚下雪，可是又不太深的那个早上来到之前，一定练习了很久。如果有人仔细检查马蹄印的话，就一定会发现真相的。再怎么小心，华特·雷姆赛从桥上回来的印子，因为从相反的方向踩上雪地，一定会有点不一样的。可是他们想到我会把马车一直赶到桥头，这下就会把那些印子弄乱了，而我正是如此。那些蹄印到那时候也就没法真正检查了。” “你忘了那瓶摔破了的苹果酱，”爱玻说，“难道那不能证明汉克到过桥上吗？” “完全不是那么回事！汉克早知道他妈妈要送苹果酱给欧布莱恩太太。说不定这是他建议的，而他一定会提醒她这件事，他只要在一两天前把一个同样的瓶子交给华特·雷姆赛，而那就是华特扔在桥上打破的那瓶。汉克带着的那瓶跟他一起进了华特的谷仓。” “要是那天没下雪怎么办？要是有别人先经过那条路而留下了印子呢？” 我耸了下肩膀。“他们就会彼此用电话通知对方延期吧，我想。那本来只是要开个玩笑，他们可以换一天再试，找其他的证人。他们并不一定需要我和蜜丽。” “那玩笑又怎么会变成了谋杀案呢？” “华特·雷姆赛始终还是爱着蜜丽，也一直恨汉克把她抢走了，诡计这么成功之后。他看到那是杀掉汉克、赢回她芳心的大好机会。我一旦知道他也参与这个诡计之后，就知道他必定是凶手——否则他怎么始终没说他负责的部分？ “汉克把他的马车藏在雷姆赛家谷仓后面的大工具间里。等我们都回镇上之后，汉克正准备重新出现，好好地取笑所有人的时候，华特·雷姆赛杀了他，然后等到晚上再把尸体丢到邮政路。他赶着马车走了一段，然后放手让马拉着车跑，自己走路回家。 “今天早上葬礼结束之后，我找了个借口说要一根绳子，好让我能再看看雷姆赛的谷仓里面，他那里有多余的马车轮子，而工具间又大得足够容得下一匹马和一辆车子。我只需要证实这两点。” 爱玻往后一靠，微微笑着，终于给说服了。“经过这次事情之后，他们恐怕会让你当警长了，山姆医生。” I shook my head. “我只是个乡下医生。” “一个开响箭型汽车的乡下医生！”……
“这就是一九二二年所发生的事。我常常想到现在既然已经退休了，就应该把它写下来，可是老是没有时间。当然啦。我还有其他的故事，还有好多！我能不能再给你斟上——呃——一点喝的？”
Notes:
I started practicing in Beishan Town on January 22, 1922 (the old man began to speak).I always remember that date because it was the day Pope Benedict XV died.I'm not a Catholic myself, but there are a lot of people in that part of New England who are.The death of the Pope was more news that day than the opening of Dr. Sam Hawthorne's clinic.Having said that, it was enough for me to hire a pudgy woman named Aibo as a nurse, buy some second-hand furniture, and settle down. Just a year out of medical school, I'm fairly new to the line.But it is easy for me to make friends, especially the farmers near the stream.I had come to town in my 1921 Rattle Arrow convertible, a bright yellow luxury car that cost my parents nearly seven thousand dollars for me as a graduation present.It only took me a day to learn not to drive a Squiggle convertible on a farm in New England.In fact, they hadn't even seen it before. The car problem was solved quickly because of the winter, because I found that people who are lucky enough to buy a car in that area, the way to take care of the car in cold weather is to drain the gas tank, frame the car with wood or bricks, and wait for spring. Let's talk.In those days, people had to rely on horse-drawn carts to walk in the snow. I don't think it was a problem for me, and in a way, it made me one of them. When the snow got too deep, they took out the sleds.But this winter is not much easier than usual, the cold weather makes Snake Creek so cold that it can be used for skating.But there was surprisingly little snow on the ground, and the road was clean. On Tuesday morning, the first week in March, I drove up the Northern Highway to the farm of Jacob and Sarah Brinlow.There was an inch or two of snow that night, but that was nothing, and I was anxious to have Sarah's weekly doctor's appointment.She has been unwell since I first arrived in town, and my visits to the farm every Tuesday have become a routine. This day, as usual.The place seemed to be packed with people.In addition to Jacob and his wife, there were three children—Hank, the handsome older son of twenty-five, who helped his father run the farm.And Susan and Sally, sixteen-year-old twin daughters.Hank's fiancée, Miri O'Brien, was there too, and she was a frequent visitor these days.Miri is a year younger than Hank, and they really are very much in love.The wedding has been set for May, and it will definitely be a big event.As the better days drew closer, not even the gossip that Miri shouldn't have married into a non-Catholic family stopped. "Hello, Dr. Sam," Sally greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. I love the warmth of the fire after a long drive in the snow and ice. "Hello, Sally. How is your mother today?" "She's in bed now, but she looks fine." "Well, we can get her out of bed right now." Jacob Brynlow and his son came in by the side door, stamping the snow off their shoes. "Hi, Dr. Sam," Jacob said.He was a big, tall man, full of anger like an Old Testament prophet.His son Hank looked thin and small next to him, as if a little underfed. "Hello," I said. "It's cold this morning." "Exactly, Sally, get Dr Sam a cup of coffee—didn't you see he was freezing?" I nodded to Hank. "Outside chopping firewood?" "There's always firewood to chop." Hank Brinlow was a very pleasant young man, about my age.I don't think he fits in on his dad's farm, and I'm happy to get him out of here after we're married.The only books and magazines in the house were Hank's, and he had the demeanor of a boisterous scholar rather than a hard-working farmer.I know he and Miri plan to move to town when they're married, and I think that's a good thing for both of them. Miri seems to be busy in the kitchen every time I'm here.Maybe she wanted the family to think she would be a good wife for Hank, a pretty girl by the town's standards, though I'd seen prettier ones in college. She carefully took the coffee mug from little Sally and brought it to me while I was looking for a place to sit. "Just move that pile of magazines, Dr. Sam," she said. "Two issues of Hearst International Monthly?" You rarely see this magazine in the farmhouse. "February and March. Hank is watching the new Sherlock Holmes in two installments." "It's really good," I said, "I saw a lot of it when I was in medical school." She smiled brightly at me. "Maybe you can be a writer like Conan Doyle," she said. "Probably not." The coffee is good and warms me up after a cold drive. "I should really go and see Mrs. Brinlow first, and wait until I finish my coffee." "You'll find her in good spirits." Sarah Brinlow's room was on the top floor, and the first time I entered that room in January, I saw a frail, pale woman in her fifties, with thick skin and slow reflexes, far from the It seems not far away.It's a different picture now.Even that room seemed much brighter, and Sarah Brinlow was much more alive than I had seen before.Sitting on the bed, a bright pink scarf draped over her shoulders, she greeted me with a smile. "Look, I'm getting better! Do you think I'll be out of bed this week?" Her ailment would probably today be classified as a so-called myxedema caused by a dysfunctional thyroid gland.But we didn't have such a fancy name back then.I treat her and she improves, that's all I care about. "Let's put it this way, Sarah, you stay in bed until Friday, and then if you feel like getting out of bed, you can get out of bed," I winked at her because I knew she liked me that way. "Really speaking, I bet you have already sneaked out of bed!" "Hey, how do you know? Doctor?" "When Sally met me at the door, I asked you how you were. She said you were lying on the bed, but you looked fine. Well, where else could you be? The only reason she would say that It's just that you've been getting out of bed sometimes recently and walking around." "My God, Dr. Sam! You should be a detective!" "Being a doctor is busy enough," I said, taking her pulse and blood pressure. "I think it will snow again this morning." "Exactly! The kids have to shovel the snow before they can skate." "The wedding is getting closer, too, isn't it?" I figured the impending wedding would do a lot for her recovery. "Yeah, there's only two months left, and it's going to be one of the happy days of my life. I think Jacob's going to have a hard time without Hank helping out on the farm, but he'll figure it out, me and He said the kid was twenty-five years old—it was time for him to live his own life." "Millie looks like a nice girl." "Couldn't be better! She's a Catholic, of course, but we don't think that's a fault in her. Of course her parents wanted her to marry Walter Ramsay on the farm next door, because that farm is now his." Yeah, but Walter's in his thirties—too old for a girl like Milly. I guess she knew that when she broke up with him." There was a light knock on the door and Susan, the other twin daughter, entered. "Mom, Hank is about to leave and he's asking where the applesauce for Milly's mother is." "My God. I almost forgot! Tell him to get a bottle from the shelf in the cellar." After she left.I said, "Your two daughters are so cute." "Really, isn't it? They are as tall as their father, can you tell who they are?" I nodded. "They're an age when they want to be individual, and Sally's hair is done a little differently." "Hank used to bluff us with them when they were younger. Swapping seats and stuff." Then, seeing me close the purse, her eyes suddenly became serious. "I'm better, Dr. Sam, aren't I?" "It's much better. Your skin, which used to get thicker, is gone, and you're much more responsive." I leave her medicine for her.Go back downstairs.Hank Brinlow put on a fur-collared overcoat and was on his way to Millie's.That's about two miles up the winding road.Pass Remsey's farm.We still have to cross that bridge. Hank picked up the glass jar of one-sixth gallon applesauce and said, "Would you come with us, Dr. Sam? Millie's dad sprained his foot last week and he never saw a doctor. But since You're nearby, maybe I can ask you to take a look." Miri seemed surprised to hear his request, but I didn't object. "Well, I will drive my carriage and follow you." Outside, Hank said, "Millie. You take Dr. Sam's buggy so he doesn't get lost." She snorted at the words and said, "This road doesn't lead anywhere else, Hank." But she climbed into my carriage, and I took the reins. "I hear you have a fancy yellow car. Dr. Sam." "Right now on blocks until spring. This little wagon is good enough for me." My wagon was nearly identical to Hank's—a four-wheeled wagon with only one seat for two , with a horse-drawn cart.The cloth awning above can keep out the sun and rain, but not the cold.It is very cold to drive in a horse-drawn carriage in the New England winter. The road ahead was winding, with woods on both sides.Although it was almost noon, there was only traces of Hank's wagon on the freshly snowed road ahead of us.Not many people take this route in winter.We hadn't gone very far when Hank picked up speed, rounded a bend, and disappeared from sight. "Hank seems very different from his dad," I said casually. "That's because Jacob was his stepfather," Miri explained, "Sarah's first husband - Hank's biological father - died of typhoid fever when he was a baby. She remarried, The twins were born later." "That explains why it took so long." "It's been that long?" "Hank and his two sisters are nine years apart. Farm families generally have very close children." Hank's wagon was too far ahead of us to see, but now we see Ramsay's farm.We had to pause because Walter Ramsey was driving a herd of cows back to the barn and got in the way.He waved his hand and said, "Hank just passed by." "I know," replied Milly loudly, "he's going so fast we can't keep up with him." After the cattle had passed, I picked up speed, still following the ruts left by Hank's wagon in the snow.When we round the next bend.I thought we'd see him, because the road was straight now and there were no trees on either side.But there was only the house bridge ahead, and the empty road on either side of it leading to O'Brien's farm. "Where has he been?" Miri asked, bewildered. "He must be waiting for us inside the bridge." We couldn't see all the way across the bridge from our point of view. "Very likely," she agreed, with a chuckle. "He always says all the bridges are kissing bridges, and that's not true at all." "Over there in my hometown—" I just started, then stopped.Now we can see inside the bridge, and there is no carriage waiting inside. "Well, he did go in. You can still see the marks on the snow." "But—" Miri rose from her seat, "there's something on the bridge. What is it?" We came as far as the entrance of the bridge, and I reined in the horse.There were no windows in the side walls of the bridge, but enough light came in from the ends and from the gaps in the planks to be seen clearly.I get out of the carriage. "That's his bottle of applesauce," I said, "that fell off the wagon and broke." But Miri wasn't looking at the bottle of applesauce.She was staring straight at the unmarked snow beyond the fifty-foot bridge. "Doctor Sam!" "What's up?" "No wheel-marks over the bridge! He went into the bridge, but he didn't go out! Where's he, Dr. Sam?"
OMG!She was right.Traces of Hank's horse and cart lead into the bridge.In fact, you can see those wet snowmelt marks for about a few feet, and then gradually fade away. But there were no horses or carts inside.No Hank Brinlow. Only the bottle of applesauce he had been carrying was broken on the floor. But if there were no marks in the snow across the bridge, he must—he must—still be here!My eyes moved up to the wooden supports that held the whole bridge up. There was nothing there but the beams and the roof.The bridge is very strong and protected from wind and rain under the roof.The side walls on both sides are also solid and undamaged, and only squirrels can hide in the cracks between the planks. "What's the trick here," I said to Miri, "he must be here." "But where?" I walked to the other side of the bridge, carefully looked at the smooth and unmarked snow, and turned around from the corner of the bridge to see the frozen river surface of Snake Creek.The skaters hadn't come to shovel the snow off, and there was no sign of it, like everywhere else.Even if the carriage had a way to pass through the bottom of the wooden bridge or the side wall, no matter where it went, it was impossible to leave traces.Hank drove his buggy into the house bridge just a minute before Miri and I followed, dropped his big bottle of applesauce, and disappeared without a trace. "We've got to get someone to help," I said.My instinct told me not to go to Miri's house and mess up the snow across the bridge. "Wait here, I'll run back to Remsey's farm." I found Walter Ramsay in the barn with the cows, forking the hay out of the haystacks. "Hi, doctor," he called me from the shelf, "what's the matter?" "Hank Brinlow seems to be missing. I've never seen anything like it. Do you have a phone here?" "Of course, doctor," he said, hopping down to the ground, "come in." As I followed him through the snow, I asked, "Is there anything weird about Hank walking past you?" "What? No. He's curled up in the cold, but I know it's him. I put the cow to the side of the road and let him pass." "Did he say anything?" "No, I just waved my hand." "So you didn't actually see his face or hear his voice?" Walter Ramsey turned to face me. "Er—no. But, hell, I've known Hank for so long! He's right." I think it must be, there is no place on that road where the driver can be replaced, and even if the driver is replaced, how can the replaced person disappear without a trace? I took the phone that Walter Ramsay handed me.Shake it, ask the operator to pick up Brynlow's farm, and one of the twin sisters will answer the phone. "I'm Dr. Sam. We seem to have lost your brother. He didn't come home?" "No, isn't he with you?" "Not now. Is your father there?" "He's out in the field, do you want to find your mother?" "No, she should be lying on the bed." No need to disturb her yet.I hung up and called O'Brien's farm again, same result.Millie's brother Larry answered the phone. He didn't see Hank, but he promised to start walking towards the bridge right away, looking for wagon wheels or footprints. "Is there any result?" Remsey asked after I finished the call. "Not yet. You didn't pay attention to him after he passed?" Remsey shook his head. "I'm busy driving cattle." I went back outside and walked to the bridge, with Ramsay following me and Miri standing beside my carriage.A very worried look. "Did you find him?" she asked. I shook my head. "Your brother is coming this way." While Ramsay and I went over every inch of the bridge, Miri just stood on the other side of the bridge, waiting for her brother to come.I guess she needs him for support at this point.Larry O'Brien was young, handsome and likable--good friends with Hank Brinlow and Walter Ramsey.My nurse Albert told me that Walter inherited the farm when his parents died.When he planted in the first season, both Larry and Hank went to help him.She also told me that although they were good friends, Larry objected to Hank marrying his sister.Probably like some older brothers, he always feels that no one is worthy of his sister. When Larry arrived, there was nothing new to tell us. "There is no trace from here to the farm," he confirmed. I suddenly thought of one thing. "Wait a minute! If there's no sign of it, how did you get here this morning, Miri?" "I was at his house with Hank last night. After it started snowing, the whole family insisted that I spend the night there. It was only an inch or two." She seemed to sense an unspoken question, adding The previous sentence said: "I sleep with the twins in their big bed." Larry looks at me. "What do you think should be done?" I looked down at the shattered bottle of applesauce that everyone carefully avoided. "I think we'd better call Sheriff Lens."
Sergeant Lens is a fat man, slow in movement and slow in thinking (continued Dr. Sam).He probably never had a bigger case than a stolen carriage—certainly nothing like being lost on a bridge.He listened to this with a groan, and then threw up his hands in panic. "It's not going to be what you say it is. It's not possible at all. Impossible doesn't make sense. I think you're kidding me—or three weeks earlier to make an April Fool's joke." About this time, the stress finally got too much for Miri, and she fell to the floor crying, and Larry and I sent her home.Their dad, Vincent O'Brien, met us at the door. "What's going on?" he asked Larry. "What happened to her?" "Hank is gone." "Missing? You mean you ran away with another woman?" "No, it's not that kind of thing." While Larry was helping Miri back to her room, I followed Vincent into the kitchen.He wasn't an ax swinger like Jacob Brinlow, but he had the muscles of a lifetime in the fields. "Hank wants me to come with you," I explained, "saying you hurt your foot." "It's nothing, I twisted my ankle chopping wood." "Can I have a look?" "No need." But he reluctantly pulled up his trouser legs, and I bent down to check. There was still swelling and bruising, but the worst was over. "Not too bad," I agreed, "but you should soak in hot water." After I looked around to make sure no one would hear us, I lowered my voice and said, "Your first thought It's Hank Brinlow who ran off with another woman. Who's on your mind?" He looked uncomfortable. "No one." "It could be a serious matter, Mr. O'Brien." He thought about it, and finally said, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm happy that my daughter is marrying a non-Catholic man, and Larry feels the same way, and besides, Hank is hanging out with some girls in town. .” "For example, who is it?" "Like Jill Paige at the bank. It wouldn't be a surprise if he ran off with her." I saw Milly coming downstairs and I raised my voice a little. "You're going to soak your ankles, you're going to use hot water." "Any news?" Miri asked.She has returned to normal, but her face is still pale. "No news, but I dare say he will show up. Does he have a habit of playing tricks?" "Sometimes he bluffs about Susan and Sally, you mean that?" "Don't know what I'm talking about," I admitted, "but he seemed anxious to get you in my car. Maybe there's a reason for that." I stayed for lunch because no news came in.I just started back to town by myself, and when I passed the bridge, Inspector Lence and a few others were still there, but I didn't stop, and I could see that they hadn't the slightest clue to solve the mystery. , and I was in a hurry to get there before the bank closed.
Jill Page was a sharp-eyed blonde, and the kind of person who would never be happy in a small New England town.She answered my questions about Hank Brinlow with the sullen mistrust she presumably feels about all men. "Do you know where he is, Jill?" "How do I know where he is?" "Are you planning to elope with him before he gets married?" "Ha! I ran off with him? Tell you, if Miri O'Brien wants him that badly, give it to her!" The bank was closing for the day when she went back to count the cash in her drawer. "Besides, I've heard men get tired of married life after a while. I might see him in town again. But I'm never going to elope with him and be tied up with a man! " I saw Roberts, the manager of the bank, watching us.I can't help but wonder why they keep hiring girls like Jill, I guess she's one of the least popular among the female customers of this bank. As I was leaving the bank, I saw Sergeant Lens go into the grocery store across the street.I followed and stopped him in front of the pickle bucket. "Any news, Sheriff?" "I give up, Doctor, he didn't come out of the bridge, wherever he is." This grocery store is right next door to my clinic, and it's a cozy place with hunks of cheese, tubs of flour, and bottles of toffee.The owner's name was Max, and his big Scotch collie always slept on the ground near the pot-bellied stove.Max came around from behind the counter to find us and said, "Everyone's been talking about Hank, what do you think is going on?" "Don't know," I admitted. "Could a plane fly over and lift everything up?" "I just followed him in my buggy. There were no planes." I glanced out the window and saw Jill Page leave the bank with the manager named Roberts. "I've heard people say that Hank and Jill Page are on good terms. Is that true?" Max scratched the stubble on his chin and said with a laugh, "Everyone in town is on good terms with Jill, including old Roberts. That's nothing." "I think so," I agreed.But even if it was nothing to Hank Brinlow, did it mean anything to Miri's father and brother? Sergeant Lens left the grocery store with me, promising to keep me informed while I headed back to my clinic next door, where my nurse, Aibo, was waiting to hear all the details. "My God, you're famous, Dr. Sam! The calls never stop." "It's too bad this kind of thing is famous. I haven't seen anything." "That's the point. They wouldn't believe it in anyone else—but you are different." I sigh.Kick off your wet boots. "I'm nothing more than a country doctor, Ib." She's a happy fat woman in her thirties, and I've never regretted hiring her on my first day in town. "They think you're smarter than most people, Dr. Sam." "Oh, no way." "They think you can solve the mystery." Who else said I was a detective that day?Sarah Brinlow? "Why would they think that?" "I suppose it's because you're the first doctor in town to drive a Snap Arrow convertible." I scolded her angrily, but she couldn't stop laughing, and I laughed too.There were a few patients waiting in the waiting room outside, so I went to see them. It was a very different day than usual, but I had to see a doctor anyway.At dusk, after the consultation is over.The weather has gotten warmer.The temperature was around forty degrees Fahrenheit, and it started to rain lightly. "The snow will melt away now," said Aibo as I was getting ready to go home. "Yes, that's true." "Maybe there's a clue." I nodded, but didn't believe it.Hank Brinlow has long since gone far.There was no way Melting Snow would bring him back. At four o'clock in the middle of the night, the phone rang and woke me up. "I'm Sergeant Lan Si, doctor." The other party said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have an errand for you to do." "What's up?" "We've found Hank Brinlow." "Where?" "On Post Road, ten miles south of town, he sat in his carriage, as if stopped to rest." "Is he—?" "Dead, Doctor. That's why I asked you to come, someone shot him in the back of the head."
It took me nearly an hour (continued Dr. Sam) to get to the scene, driving my wagon as fast as I could through the slippery and muddy country road.Although the night was not so cold, the rain chilled me to the bone as I drove in the dark on my dreadful mission.I kept thinking about Miri O'Brien, and Hank's mother, who was just recovering from a long illness.How much of a blow will this news have on them? Sergeant Lan Si put some lanterns on the road. When I drove past, I could see the gloomy lights.He helped me out of the carriage.I walked towards the small circle of people around the other carriage.Two of them were deputy sheriffs, and the other was a farmer who lived nearby.They didn't move the body—Hank was still slumped in the corner of the seat, with his feet on the front of the wagon. I gasped when I saw the back of his head. "Shotgun," I said simply. "Can you be sure that this is the scene of the crime, doctor?" "I'm afraid not," I said, turning to the farmer. "Did you find him?" The man nodded and repeated the story he had apparently told them. "My wife heard the hooves of the horses. Nobody came on our road in the middle of the night, so I went outside to have a look and saw him like this." In the light of the lantern, I noticed one thing—a round mark on the horse's belly that seemed to hurt to the touch. "Look, Sheriff." "what is this?" "Scald. The murderer put Hank in the wagon, tied the bridle, burned the horse with cigar smoke or something, and let it go. It probably took miles before it stopped." Lan Si gestured towards his two subordinates. "Let's take him back to town. There's nothing else here." He turned to me again and said, "At least there's someone else." "Yes, found him. But we still don't know what happened on that bridge, except that it wasn't a joke."
The funeral took place two days later, and on that Friday morning, a pale winter sun struggled through the clouds, casting long March shadows on the headstones in the small town cemetery.The Brinlows were there, of course, and Miri's parents, and the town.After the funeral, many people returned to Brinlow's farm.This is a traditional custom in the countryside, no matter how sad it is, there are many neighbors who give food to this family. I am sitting in the living room.Stay away from other people.The bank manager named Roberts came up to me. "Has the sheriff found anything?" he asked. "Not as far as I know." "It's a real puzzle. Not just how it happened, but why." "do not know why?" He nodded. "If you want to kill someone, just do it, and you won't come up with any weird tricks to make him disappear first. What's the point?" I thought about this question for a while, but there was no answer.After Roberts left, I went over to Sarah Brinlow and asked her if she was all right.She looked at me tiredly and said, "I'll bury my son the first day I can get out of bed." It's hard to say anything about a mother's grief.I saw Max bring in a bag of groceries from his store, and I went over to help.But my eyes caught something on the living room table. It was the March issue of Hearst International Monthly.I remember Hank had read Sherlock Holmes serialized in February and March.I found the February issue under a pile of old newspapers, and turned to the Sherlock Holmes story. The novel is divided into two parts, titled . bridge? I found a quiet corner and sat down to read a book. It only took me half an hour.After reading it, I went to Walter Ramsay on the farm next door.He was standing on the side porch with Larry O'Brien, and when he saw me coming he said, "Larry's got some good bootleg wine in his wagon, would you like a drink?" "No, thanks, Walter, but you can do something else for me. Have you got a very strong rope in your barn?" He frowned and thought about it. "I think so." "Can we drive over now? I just read something that made me think of how Hank disappeared over the bridge." We got into his carriage and walked a mile up the winding road to his farm.By this time the snow had melted and the cows were near the water trough by the barn.Walter led me in, past the empty barns, the milk pails, and the wagon wheels, to a large tool shed attached at the back.Among the assorted tools he found an old twelve-foot piece of rope. "Is this okay?" "That's what you want. Come with me to the bridge?" The ice on the river was still firm, though the roads had turned to mud.I handed one end of the rope to Walter, and lowered the other end until I touched the frozen river. "What is this for?" he asked. "I read a story about a gun being dragged into the water and disappearing from a bridge." He looked puzzled. "But it's impossible for Hank's carriage to reach the river. The ice on the river hasn't broken." "I still think it tells me something. Thanks for letting me use the rope." He sent me back to Brinlow's house. Although he felt strange, he didn't ask any more questions.The condolence guests began to leave and go home, and I found Sheriff Lens. "I have an idea about that mystery, Sheriff, but it's kind of crazy." "In this case, even crazy ideas are good." Jacob Brinlow turned from the other side of the house with a twin daughter, his tall frame not overwhelmed by the funeral chores. "What's the matter, Sheriff?" he asked. "Still looking for clues?" "Maybe there's a clue," I said. "I've got an idea." He looked me up and down, probably blaming me for what happened to his stepson. "You'd better be your doctor," he mumbled a little.I know he just drank from Larry's bottle. "Go see my wife, I think there's something wrong with her." I went into the house and found Sarah pale.Looks tired.I ordered her to go to bed, and she went to bed without saying a word.Max was leaving, and the O'Brien family was leaving, and the bank manager was gone long ago, but when I got back on the porch, Jacob Brinlow was still waiting for me.He was looking for trouble, probably the result of heartbreak mixed with smuggled whiskey. "The sheriff says you know who killed Hank." "I didn't say that, I just had an idea." "Tell me, tell us all!" He spoke so loudly that both Larry O'Brien and Miri stopped to listen.Walter Ramsey also came over, and in the distance near some carriages, I saw Jill Page who was working at the bank.I didn't see her at the funeral, but she came to pay Hank her last respects. "We can go inside and talk," I replied, keeping my voice down. "You're bluffing! You don't know anything!" I took a deep breath. “好吧，既然你要这样。汉克在生前刚看完一篇福尔摩斯的探案。另外还有一篇他大概在多年前看过，在那篇小说里，福尔摩斯要华生注意晚上那只狗的怪事。我也要再重复一遍他这句话。” “可这回没啥晚上的狗，”蓝思警长指出道，“这该死的案子里根本就没有狗！” “是我的错，”我说，“那就让我请你们注意白天的那群牛的怪事。” 就在这时候，华特·雷姆赛从人群中拔腿就往他的马车跑过去。“抓住他，警长！”我大声叫道，“他就是凶手！”
回到我的诊所之后，我又得全部再跟爱玻说一遍，因为她当时不在场，而且别人说的她都不相信。“说嘛，山姆医生！那群牛怎么会告诉你说华特是凶手呢？” “我们经过的时候。他正把那群牛赶回谷仓去，可是从哪里赶回去呢？母牛不会到雪地去吃草。而水槽就在谷仓旁边，并不是在路的对面，那群牛之所以在我们面前横过马路，唯一可能的原因就是要弄掉汉克的马和车的痕迹。 “除了那群牛踩过的地方之外，整片雪地上只有一条马车的印子——从布林洛农场到那座屋桥，我们知道汉克离开了农场，如果他没有到那座屋桥的话，无论他发生了什么事，事情都出在那群牛过马路的地方。” “可是马车的印子！你跟在他后面，只差一分钟呢，山姆医生。这些时间不足以让他造出那些印子来！” 我微微一笑，像最初想到的时候一样重新再推论一遍。“银行经理劳勃士和夏洛克·福尔摩斯一起回答了这个问题。劳勃士问为什么——凶手为什么要搞出那么多麻烦？答案是他并没有做这些。搞出这些麻烦来的不是凶手，而是汉克·布林洛。 “我们早知道他会拿他双胞胎妹妹来骗人家，让人家弄不清谁是谁，我们也知道他最近才看过。那里面说的是一件在桥上发生看似不可能的自杀事件。猜想是他安排这个大玩笑，应该不会太离谱——安排他自己在屋桥里消失了踪影。” “可是怎么做法呢，山姆医生？”爱玻想要知道，“我也看了那篇夏洛克·福尔摩斯的探案，里面没有一点和这件事有关的。” “对。可是一旦知道了那大白天赶牛的目的之后，就知道谷仓那边的辙印玩了花样。可能发生的事只有一件——汉克的马车转离了路，开进了谷仓。从路上到桥上的车印子是假造的。” “怎么做法？”她又说了一遍，对这件事还是一个字也不信。 “更重要的问题是什么时候。因为在我们赶上来的那一分钟里来不及假造辙印，所以一定是早就做好了。在这个计划里，汉克和华特·雷姆赛必定是同谋，华特在那天早上雪停之后出去，带着两个旧车轮，用一根车轴连在一起。在他的靴了上绑上一两吋厚的木块，木块底下钉上马蹄铁。 “他只要在雪地里沿着路往前走，把那对车轮在前面推着，走到屋桥里深到够在雪地里留下印子的地方，然后把靴子上的木块反过来，再推着车轮往回走。其结果就留下了看起来像是一只四脚动物拉着一辆四轮马车的印子。” “可是——”爱玻开始反驳。 “我知道，我知道！人跑起来不像马，可是只要练一练，就能把脚印的间隔弄得看起来够像，我可以打赌汉克和华特在等着碰上正好刚下雪，可是又不太深的那个早上来到之前，一定练习了很久。如果有人仔细检查马蹄印的话，就一定会发现真相的。再怎么小心，华特·雷姆赛从桥上回来的印子，因为从相反的方向踩上雪地，一定会有点不一样的。可是他们想到我会把马车一直赶到桥头，这下就会把那些印子弄乱了，而我正是如此。那些蹄印到那时候也就没法真正检查了。” “你忘了那瓶摔破了的苹果酱，”爱玻说，“难道那不能证明汉克到过桥上吗？” “完全不是那么回事！汉克早知道他妈妈要送苹果酱给欧布莱恩太太。说不定这是他建议的，而他一定会提醒她这件事，他只要在一两天前把一个同样的瓶子交给华特·雷姆赛，而那就是华特扔在桥上打破的那瓶。汉克带着的那瓶跟他一起进了华特的谷仓。” “要是那天没下雪怎么办？要是有别人先经过那条路而留下了印子呢？” 我耸了下肩膀。“他们就会彼此用电话通知对方延期吧，我想。那本来只是要开个玩笑，他们可以换一天再试，找其他的证人。他们并不一定需要我和蜜丽。” “那玩笑又怎么会变成了谋杀案呢？” “华特·雷姆赛始终还是爱着蜜丽，也一直恨汉克把她抢走了，诡计这么成功之后。他看到那是杀掉汉克、赢回她芳心的大好机会。我一旦知道他也参与这个诡计之后，就知道他必定是凶手——否则他怎么始终没说他负责的部分？ “汉克把他的马车藏在雷姆赛家谷仓后面的大工具间里。等我们都回镇上之后，汉克正准备重新出现，好好地取笑所有人的时候，华特·雷姆赛杀了他，然后等到晚上再把尸体丢到邮政路。他赶着马车走了一段，然后放手让马拉着车跑，自己走路回家。 “今天早上葬礼结束之后，我找了个借口说要一根绳子，好让我能再看看雷姆赛的谷仓里面，他那里有多余的马车轮子，而工具间又大得足够容得下一匹马和一辆车子。我只需要证实这两点。” 爱玻往后一靠，微微笑着，终于给说服了。“经过这次事情之后，他们恐怕会让你当警长了，山姆医生。” I shook my head. “我只是个乡下医生。” “一个开响箭型汽车的乡下医生！”……
“这就是一九二二年所发生的事。我常常想到现在既然已经退休了，就应该把它写下来，可是老是没有时间。当然啦。我还有其他的故事，还有好多！我能不能再给你斟上——呃——一点喝的？”
Notes: