Chapter 6 Chapter 6 "The Observer"

Mrs. Mazway opened the front door. "Ned!" she cried, "are you crazy? Running around in this weather, and you've just come out of the hospital." "You won't get caught in the rain in a taxi." He smiled weakly, "Is Paul there?" "Out less than half an hour ago, to the club, I think. Come in." "Is Opal home?" Ned asked as she closed the door, and followed her into the hall. "No, she went out in the morning." Ned Beaumont stopped in the hallway leading to the living room. "Then I won't bother," he said. "I'm going to the club to find Paul." His voice was unsteady.

The old lady turned quickly to look at him. "You can't do that," she scolded. "Look at you, you're shaking. Sit down by the fire, and I'll get you something hot to drink." "No, Ma," he told her, "I've got a few places to go." Her unstained blue eyes became bright and sharp. "When did you leave the hospital?" she demanded. "just." She squeezed her lips tightly, and squeezed out a reproach between her teeth: "You sneaked out." A shadow disturbed the clear blue in her eyes.She approached Ned Beaumont and brought her face closer. They were almost the same height.Her tone became harsh, as if her throat was dry. "Is it about Paul?" The haze in her eyes turned to fear, "And Opal?"

His voice was low and inaudible. "I'll have to see them." She touched his cheek lightly with bony fingers. "Ned, you're a good boy," she said. He put an arm around her. "Don't worry, Mom, it won't be too bad. Just... if Opal comes back, don't let her go out again—if you can." "Can you tell me something, Ned?" she asked. "Not yet. And, well, it's best not to let them both think you're worried." Ned Beaumont walked five blocks in the rain to a pharmacy.He rang there, hailing a taxi, then dialed two more numbers for Mr Matthews but was unable to reach him.

He called again and said he was looking for Mr. Ronson.After a while he said: "Hi, Jack, I'm Ned Beaumont. Busy? . . . Very well. Here's the thing. I wonder if the girl we mentioned is going to see her today. Mr. Matthews from The Observer. And if she goes, what does she do after that. Yes, Hal Matthews. I've called the newspaper and his house, but nothing Find him... well, try to be as quiet as possible, but fast... no, I'm out of the hospital. I'll wait at home. You know my number... yes, Jack. Good, thanks, follow me as much as you can Keep in touch...bye." He walked out and the taxi was waiting.He got in the car and gave the driver the address, but after six blocks, he tapped on the front window and gave the driver another address.

Not long after, the taxi stopped in front of a low gray house.The house sits in the middle of a smooth lawn on a slope. "Wait," he told the driver as he got out of the car. After the doorbell rang, a red-haired maid opened the gray house's front door. "Is Mr. Farr there?" he asked. "I'll go and see. What's your name?" "Beaumont." The prosecutor walked into the living room and held out his hands.His ruddy and combative face was full of smiles. "Why, Beaumont, what a honour," he said hastily, "come, and give me your coat and hat."

Ned Beaumont smiled and shook his head. "I'm staying shortly," he said. "I just stopped by on my way home from the hospital." "Are you fully recovered? Great!" "Feeling all right," Ned Beaumont asked. "Any news?" "It's nothing too important. The gangsters who abused you haven't been caught yet - hiding somewhere - but we'll catch them." Ned Beaumont curled his lips in disdain. "I'm not dead, and they didn't intend to kill me. You can only arrest them for the crime of injury." He looked lazily at Farr, "Have you received any more letters like that with three questions?"

The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Er—yes, I remembered, and here's another one or two." "How many?" asked Ned Beaumont, in a polite and casual tone, with the corners of his mouth slightly turned up in a lazy smile.A look of teasing flickered in his eyes, but he kept his gaze on Farr. The prosecutor cleared his throat. "Three," he said reluctantly, and then his eyes lit up. "You heard about that great meeting we had—" Ned Beaumont interrupted him. "Are they still old lines?" he asked. "Well—almost." The prosecutor licked his lips, with a pleading look in his eyes.

"How much difference?" Farr looked from under Ned Beaumont's eyes to his tie and then to his left shoulder.He moved his lips slightly, but no sound came out. Ned Beaumont's smile was now clearly malicious. "Is it all about Paul killing Tyler Henry?" he asked in a sweet tone. Farr jumped up, his face turned bright orange, and looking directly at Beaumont with terrified eyes in agitation, he gasped, "Christ, Ned!" Ned Beaumont laughed. "You're too nervous, Farr," his tone was still sweet, "you'd better be careful, or you'll collapse." Then he put on a serious expression, "Did Paul tell you about this? ? I mean you're too nervous about it."

"No...no." Ned Beaumont smiled again. "Maybe he didn't notice—not yet." He raised his hand, glanced at his watch, then looked at Val. "Find out who wrote it?" he asked suddenly. The prosecutor stammered, "Look here, Ned, I don't—you know—this isn't—" He faltered and stopped. Ned Beaumont asked, "What's the matter?" The prosecutor swallowed hard and moaned in despair: "We've found something, Ned, but it's too early to say anything. Maybe it won't work at all. You know this kind of thing too." Ned Beaumont nodded.Now there was only pure friendliness on his face, and his voice was steady and calm, but not indifferent. "You already know where the letter was written, and you found the typewriter, but that's all for now, not enough for you to guess who wrote it."

"Yes, Ned," Farr blurted out, exhaling a sigh of relief. Ned Beaumont took Val's hand and shook it cordially. "That's what it is," he said. "Well, I must go. It's always safe to go slow, and think twice. Take my word for it." The prosecutor's expression and voice were full of enthusiasm. "Thank you, Ned, thank you!" At ten past nine that evening, the telephone rang in Ned Beaumont's living room.He quickly walked over to the phone. "Hello? Ah, Jack... ok... ok... where? . He hung up the phone and stood up, with a smile on his pale lips, his eyes were shining and frantic, and his hands were trembling slightly.

He had only taken two steps when the phone rang again.He hesitated for a moment, then walked back to answer the phone. "Hey... oh Paul, hello... yeah, I'm tired of being a patient... nothing, just thought I should go see you... no, I'm afraid not. I don't feel as good as I thought Strong, so I better go to sleep...well, tomorrow, no problem...bye." He put on his raincoat and went downstairs while putting on his hat.The wind carried rain on him as he opened the front door; it wet his face as he walked the half block to the corner garage. In the glass-walled office of the garage, a thin, brunette man in a once-white smock reclined in a wooden chair, his feet resting on a shelf above an electric radiator, reading a newspaper.Ned Beaumont went in and said, "Hello, Tommy." He lowered the newspaper. Seeing Beaumont, Tommy grinned, his teeth so white against the dirt on his face. "The weather is pretty bad tonight." "Yeah. Can I do it with your car? The kind I can drive on country roads?" Tommy said, "Jesus! You're so picky about your days. You might have to drive a crappy car. Well, I happen to have a Buick, and you don't care what you do with it." "Will it take me to my destination?" "As good as any other car," said Tommy, "I mean tonight." "Okay, fill up the gas for me. Which is the best way to go to Lazy Valley in this weather tonight?" "how far?" Ned Beaumont looked at the mechanic thoughtfully, and then said, "Almost to the river." Tommy nodded. "Is Matthews there?" he asked. Ned Beaumont said nothing. Tommy said, "Which way you go depends on where you're going." "Yes, to the Matthews's," Ned Beaumont frowned. "Keep it quiet, Tommy." "Did you come to me because you thought I'd tell, or did you know I wouldn't?" argued Tommy firmly. "I'm in a hurry," said Ned Beaumont. "Then you take New River Road until you reach Barton's house, then turn onto the dirt road next to the bridge - if you can drive it - and turn east at the first intersection. Go all the way At the top of the hill, it's probably just behind the Matthews house. If you can't take the dirt road in this weather, you'll have to continue on New River Road until you reach the intersection, then turn east, and follow the route just mentioned Walk." "Thanks." As Ned Beaumont got into the Buick, Tommy told him with mock lightheartedness, "There's another gun in the side pocket." Ned Beaumont stared at the tall, thin man and asked blankly, "Another one?" "Have a nice trip," said Tommy. Ned Beaumont closed the door and drove off. The clock on the dashboard showed ten thirty-two.Ned Beaumont turned off the lights and got out of the Buick a little stiffly.Squalls of wind and rain lashed trees, bushes, land, people and vehicles.Through the rain and leaves, you can see scattered yellow lights flickering dimly below the mountain.Ned Beaumont shivered, tried to wrap his raincoat tighter, and staggered through the sodden bushes toward the light downhill. The wind and rain pushed him all the way down the mountain.At the foot of the mountain, he gradually lost his stiffness, but his steps were still staggering and chaotic, and he was tripped by things under his feet from time to time.However, he still stabilized his body and walked towards the target. Although his gait was shaky, he was still agile. Before long a path appeared under his feet.He turned, grinding the sticky mud beneath his feet, feeling the bushes that had scratched his cheeks, trying to keep his bearings because vision couldn't help at all.The path took him a short way to the left, then took a sharp turn, and brought him to the edge of a small, fast-flowing canyon, and around it, he came to the door of the building with its yellow flashing lights halo. Ned Beaumont went straight up and knocked on the door. A gray-haired man with glasses opened the door.He was a mild-looking, dark-faced man, with gray eyes that stared nervously at Ned through tortoiseshell spectacles; a brown suit of good quality and trim, but not too stylishly cut, with four splashes on one side of the crisp white turtleneck. dripping water.He held the door aside. "Come on in, sir, and don't get caught in the rain." His voice was friendly, if not earnest. "It's a hell of a night to be here." Ned Beaumont leaned slightly, his head no more than an inch, and stepped through the door.He entered a large suite that took up an entire floor.The sparse and simple upholstery of the furniture creates an atmosphere of unpretentiousness that is pleasing to the eye.There is a kitchen, a dining room, and a living room.Opal Mazvi rose from the footstool in the corner of the fireplace, and stood tall, staring at Ned Beaumont with dark eyes hostile. He took off his hat and began to unbutton his raincoat.It was only then that the others recognized him. "Why, it's Beaumont!" cried the man who opened the door in disbelief, and then looked at Shad O'Leary with wide eyes. Shad O'Leary sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room facing the fireplace, smiling dreamily at Ned Beaumont, and said in a melodious baritone with a slight Irish accent, "Isn't it." Then he added, "How are you, Ned?" Jeff Gardner grinned to reveal his beautiful false teeth.His simian face was stretched wider by the smile, and the little red eyes were barely visible. "Jesus, Rusty!" he said to the sullen pink-cheeked boy sitting on the stool beside him, "the little ball is bouncing back. I won't tell you, he likes us to pat him like that." Come and shoot." Rusty frowned at Ned Beaumont and growled something inaudible from across the room. A slender woman in red, sitting not far from Opal Mazvi, looked at Ned Beaumont, her dark eyes shining brightly with interest. Ned Beaumont took off his overcoat.His thin face still had bruises from Jeff and Rusty's fists, and his expression was calm, but his eyes shone with wanton light.He put his coat and hat on a long unpainted cabinet against the wall by the door, and smiled politely at the man who recognized him: "My car broke down by accident. You It is very kind of you to take me in, Mr Matthews." "It's nothing, I'm happy." Matthews replied, his voice was a little vague, and his frightened eyes looked at O'Luo Rui pleadingly again. O'Leary stroked his smooth white hair with his slender and pale hands, and then smiled happily at Ned Beaumont, but didn't say a word. Ned Beaumont went to the fireplace. "Yo, girl," he said to Opal Mazvi. She didn't answer his greeting, but just stood there, still looking at him with dark, hostile eyes. He smiled again at the girl in red. "Mrs. Matthews, isn't it?" "Yes," she said, her voice almost whispering, and she held out her hand. "Opper told me you and she were classmates," Ned said as they shook hands, then turned to Rusty and Jeff. "Yo, boys," he said casually, "I was looking forward to seeing See you soon." Rusty said nothing. Jeff grinned happily, as if putting a mask over his face. "Both to each other," he said affectionately, "my knuckles are all healed up now. Think what I'd have to beat you to get myself like that?" Shad O'Leary didn't even look at the ape-like man, and said softly, "Jeff, you talk too much with that big mouth, if you weren't so talkative, you might have kept your teeth. " Mr. Matthews whispered something to Opal, who shook her head and sat back on the stool by the fire. Matthews pointed to the wooden chair on the other side of the fireplace, and said nervously, "Sit down, Mr. Beaumont, dry your feet, and then—get warm again." "Thank you." Ned Beaumont drew the chair closer to the fire, and sat down. Shad O'Leary was lighting a cigarette.When lit, he took the cigarette from between his lips and asked, "How are you, Ned?" "Not bad, Sand." "That's good." O'Lori turned his head slightly, and said to the two men on the stool, "You two can go back to the city tomorrow." He turned back to face Ned Beaumont and explained kindly , "Unless you are sure that you will not die, our people should be more careful. But we don't care about attacking such petty crimes." Ned Beaumont nodded. "You are relying on my reluctance to take the trouble to go to court to sue. But don't forget, our friend Jeff is also wanted for West's murder." His voice was very soft, but he stared intently into the eyes of the fireplace flames. An evil light flashed in his eyes.There was nothing but mocking in his eyes as he turned to the left to stare at Matthews. "But of course I could do that and get Matthews in trouble for covering a fugitive." Matthews said hastily: "I didn't, Mr. Beaumont. I didn't know they were here until I came here today. I was as surprised as you—" He stopped suddenly, and turned back to Shad Aurora. Said sadly, "You know I welcome you. You understand, but my point is—" A happy smile suddenly lit up on his face, "I helped you without knowing it, so don't It counts as something that should be held legally responsible.” O'Lori said gently: "Yes, you didn't know it when you helped me." His surprisingly clear gray-blue eyes looked at the newspaper publisher coldly. Matthews' smile was no longer pleasant, but dimmed.He fidgeted with his tie with his fingers, avoiding O'Luo Rui's eyes. "Everybody's bored tonight. We were all bored before you came," Mrs. Matthews said sweetly to Ned Beaumont. He looked at her curiously.Her dark eyes are bright and gentle, full of temptation.Under his scrutiny, she lowered her head slightly and pursed her lips coquettishly.Her lips are thin, and the lipstick is a bit thick, but the shape of her lips is beautiful.He smiled at her, got up and walked over. Opal Mazvi stared at the floor in front of him.Matthews, O'Leary, and the two men on the stool stared at Ned Beaumont and Mrs. Matthews. "Why are they so boring?" he asked, before sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her.He didn't look directly at her, but turned his back to the fire, one hand resting on the floor behind him, his face turned to one side. "I really don't know," she said, pursing her lips. "I thought it would be fun when Hal asked me if I wanted to come here with him and Opal. Turns out, seeing these —" She paused a moment, "Hal's friend," she went on, with undisguised misgivings, "everyone's just sitting here, giving some secret hint that they all know and I don't. , what an idiot. Opal is as bad as anyone else. She—” "That's enough, Eloise," said her husband, in a tone of vain command.She looked up to meet her husband's gaze, and could see the dignity in his eyes was masked by shame. "I don't care," she said grumpily to him. "It's a fact that Opal is just as bad as you. What's the matter? You and she didn't even mention coming here to discuss something in the first place. If it wasn't so stormy, don't think I'm going to stay here for so long. Don't even think about it!" Opal Mazvi blushed, but did not look up. Eloise Matthews looked down at Ned Beaumont again, and the impatience in her face became animated. "You've got to change the mood," she emphasized to him, "and it's not because you're good-looking that I'm so happy to see you." He frowned at her pretending to be angry. She also frowned at him, but sincerely. "Did your car really break down?" she asked. "Or did you come here for the thing that made them so crazy? You did. You were with them." He laughed and asked: "If I change my mind after seeing you, it doesn't matter what the original purpose is?" "Yes—" her tone was suspicious, "but I must be fairly sure that you have really changed your mind." "And anyway," he assured briskly, "I'm not going to hide anything. Can't you guess what they're bewildered about?" "Not at all," she replied bitterly, "but I'm sure it must be pretty stupid, and probably has something to do with politics." He reached out his free hand and patted hers. "Smart girl, hit both points." He turned his head and glanced at O'Luo Rui and Matthews, and then looked at her again, his eyes shining with joy, "Shall I tell you?" "don't want." "Number one," he said, "Opal believes her father murdered Tyler Henry." With a horrible whimper in his throat, Opal Mazvi stood up from the footstool.She raised the back of her hand to cover her mouth, her eyes stared so wide that even the whites of the irises were exposed, her eyes were dull and desperate. Rusty jumped to his feet, flushed with anger, but Jeff winked and grabbed the boy by the arm. "Leave him alone," he yelled good-naturedly, "it's all right." The young man stood and struggled to free himself from the arm held by the ape-like man, but he didn't try to shake it off. Eloise Matthews sat in a chair, looking at Opal in puzzlement. Matthews shivered, his gray face receded, his lower lip and eyelids drooped. Shad O'Leary leaned forward on the chair, his long and delicate face was pale and stern, his eyes were like gray-blue ice, his hands were holding onto the armrests of the chair, and his feet were flat on the ground. "Second," said Ned Beaumont calmly, quite unaffected by the commotion of the others, "she—" "Ned, don't!" cried Opal Mazvi. He turned from the floor and looked up at her. Her hand that had covered her mouth had been put down, and her hands were twisted together in front of her chest.With pained eyes and a utterly haggard face, she begged for his mercy. He regarded her solemnly for a moment.The strong wind and heavy rain slammed into the building, and the sound came through the windows and walls, accompanied by the noise of the nearby river.His examining eyes were cold and deliberate.After a moment, he said to her in a sufficiently forgiving but nonchalant tone: "Isn't that why you're here?" "Please, don't," she said hoarsely. There was a faint smile on his lips, but there was no pleasure in his eyes. "Can no one talk about it but you and your father's other enemies?" She clenched her hands into fists and hung her sides, raised her face angrily, and said loudly, "He did kill Taylor." Ned Beaumont leaned back on the floor again, looking up at Eloise Matthews. "That's what I'm going to tell you," he said slowly, "think about it, she saw all the rubbish your husband posted this morning and ran to him. He certainly didn't think Paul killed anyone; he Just cornered—State Central had his loan secured, and that company belonged to a Senate candidate Shad was backing—so he had to do what he was told. Number two, she—” Matthews cut him off, the publisher's voice shrill and desperate. "Stop it, Beaumont. You—" O'Lori interrupted Matthews, his voice was quiet and sweet. "Let him talk, Matthews," he said, "let him finish." "Thanks, Sand," said Ned Beaumont indifferently, without looking at him, and went on, "She went to your husband to confirm her suspicions, but he had no evidence to give except a lie. I don't know, it's just a slander at Shad's behest. But there's one thing he can do, and he does; he can put her running in and saying she believes her father killed her lover to-morrow in the paper. That would be a sensation. 'Opal Mazvi accuses father of murder; boss's daughter says he killed senator's son!' Can't you imagine that The Observer will write in black and white on the front page Are these words printed?" Eloise, eyes wide and pale, listened with bated breath.She leaned forward, her head just above his.The wind and the showers beat against the walls and windows.Rusty took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. Smiling, Ned Beaumont stuck out his tongue, drew it back, and said, "That's why he brought her here to hide her until the news hits the papers. Maybe he knows Sand and his men are here, maybe he doesn't. It doesn't make a difference anyway. He's going to make her disappear before anyone finds out what she's doing before the papers are in it. I don't mean he's forcing her here, or taking her hostage - that wouldn't be smart right now What she did—it wasn't necessary. She would do anything to destroy her father." Opal Mazvi spoke, his voice low but clear: "He did kill him." Ned Beaumont sat up straight, gazed at her carefully for a moment, then smiled.He shook his head resignedly, then leaned back on his elbow. Shad O'Leary crossed his legs again and took out a cigarette. "Finished?" he asked gently. With his back to O'Leary, Ned Beaumont didn't turn his back when he answered, "You won't understand how thoroughly I've explained it." His voice was steady, but his expression suddenly became tired and exhausted. O'Leary lit a cigarette. "Okay," he said when he finished, "what the hell is this all about? Now it's time for us to remind you of the point. That little girl came running with a story she made up. She's here because she wanted to come , like you. She, or you, or anyone else, can go where she pleases, whenever she likes." He got up. "As for me, I want to go to bed. Where should I sleep, Matthews?" Eloise Matthews spoke, to her husband. "That's not true, Hal." That wasn't a question. He slowly lowered his hands covering his face, and said with a solemn look: "My dear, the evidence against Mazvi has appeared more than a dozen times, which is enough to prove that we are right. We just insisted that The police should at least ask him." "That's not what I meant," said his wife. "Well, my dear, when Miss Mazvi comes—" He paused falteringly, and under his wife's gaze, the gray-faced man trembled and covered his face with his hands again. Eloise Matthews and Ned Beaumont were alone in the great room on the first floor, sitting in chairs a few feet apart, facing the fireplace.She leaned over, watching the burning firewood with sad eyes.He crossed his legs, hooked one hand to the back of the chair, smoked a cigar, and peeked at her. There was a creaking sound on the stairs, and her husband came down the stairs, fully dressed except for his collar.His tie was a little looser, hanging over his waistcoat.He said, "Honey, aren't you going to bed? It's midnight." She didn't move. He added: "And you, Mr. Beaumont?" When Ned Beaumont heard his name, he turned to the man on the stairs with a very indifferent expression.When Matthews had finished speaking, Ned turned his attention back to his cigar and Mrs. Matthews. After a while, Matthews went upstairs again. "There's whiskey in the cabinet, can you go and get it?" Eloise Matthews said without taking her eyes off the fire. "No problem." He found whiskey, brought it to her, and found some more glasses. "Nothing else?" he asked. She nodded, her round chest in the red silk dress rose and fell irregularly with her breathing. He poured two large glasses of wine. She stared at the fire without raising her eyes, until he handed one of the cups to her hand, then she raised her head and smiled, her thin lips with heavy lipstick slanted up one corner.Her eyes shone brightly in the firelight. He smiled down at her. "To my husband!" she said softly, raising her glass. "No," said Ned Beaumont, pouring his drink into the fireplace, and the flames sputtered and sputtered upward. She smiled happily and hopped her feet. "Pour another glass." She ordered. He picked up the bottle from the floor and refilled his glass. She held her glass high above her head. "Respect!" They drank it down.She trembled. "It's best mixed or paired with something," he suggested. She shook her head. "I want to drink this," she put a hand on his arm, and turned her back to the fire, standing next to him. "Let's move that bench over here." "Alright." He agreed. They removed the two chairs in front of the fireplace, and each of them carried the bench across.The stool was wide and low, with no backrest. "Turn off the lights now," she said. He complied.When she came back she was sitting on a stool and pouring whiskey for the two of them. "This time it's for you," he said.They all drank, and she trembled again. He sat down beside her, both glowing red from the fire in the fireplace. The stairs creaked and her husband came down, stopped on the last step and said, "Please, dear!" "Throw him something," she said cruelly, close to Ned Beaumont's ear. Ned Beaumont laughed lowly. "Where's your glass?" She picked up the whiskey bottle. Matthews went upstairs while she poured them drinks. She handed Ned Beaumont's glass back to him, and touched her own.In the red firelight, her eyes were wild, and a lock of dark hair fell loosely over her eyebrows.She exhaled through her mouth, panting softly. "Honor us!" she said. They drank the wine.She let the empty glass fall down, threw herself into his arms, and tremblingly brought her lips to his.The falling glass shattered loudly on the wooden floor.Ned Beaumont's eyes narrowed slyly, hers were shut tightly. They didn't part when the stairs creaked, and Ned Beaumont didn't move after that, and she tightened her slender arms around him.He couldn't see the stairs, and both of them were breathing heavily.Then there was another sound on the stairs, and after a while, their heads parted, but their arms remained together.Ned Beaumont looked at the stairs. There was no one there. Eloise Matthews slid her hand behind his head, running her fingers through his hair, digging her nails into his scalp.Her eyes were half-closed, and her eyes narrowed into two dark slits with a smile. "This is life," she mocked bitterly, pulling him back on the bench together, drawing his lips closer to hers. That's how they were when they heard the gunshot. Ned Beaumont broke free from her arms and rose at once. "Where's his room?" he asked sharply. She was petrified and blinked at him. "Where's his room?" he repeated. She raised her hand weakly and said hoarsely, "In front." He ran upstairs in three steps at the same time, and met the monkey-like Jeff face to face at the stairs—he was neatly dressed, but he was pulling his shoes and blinking his swollen sleepy eyes.Jeff put one hand on his hip, stretched out the other to block Ned Beaumont, and growled, "What's going on now?" Ned evaded his hand, slipped over, and landed a left hook on his simian muzzle.Jeff howled and staggered back.Ned Beaumont jumped over him and ran toward the front of the building.O'Lori came out from another room and ran after him. From downstairs came Mrs Matthews screaming. Ned Beaumont pushed open a door and stopped.Matthews was lying on his back on the bedroom floor under the light, his mouth open, bleeding a little.He had one arm spread out across the floor, the other resting on his chest.The outstretched arms seem to be pointed at the wall, and a black revolver lies beside the wall.On the table by the window was a bottle of ink--with the cork up beside it--a pen, and a sheet of paper.A chair is leaning against the table. Shad O'Leary passed Ned Beaumont and knelt beside the man on the floor.Beaumont, who was behind him, took the opportunity to quickly glance at the paper on the table, and stuffed it into his pocket. Jeff comes in, followed by a naked Rusty. O'Lori stood up, spread his hands and made a gesture of a foregone conclusion. "Swallowed himself," he said. "It's hopeless." Ned Beaumont turned and walked out of the room and met Opal Mazvi in ​​the corridor. "What's the matter, Ned?" Her voice was full of fear. "Matthews shot himself. I'll go down with her until you get dressed. Don't go in there, it's nothing to see." He went downstairs. Eloise Matthews lay by the stool, looking like a dim shadow. He took two quick steps towards her, stopped, and looked around the room with sharp and calm eyes.Then he approached the woman, got down on one knee beside her, and took her pulse.He watched her as closely as he could in the dim afterglow of the embers, but she showed no signs of awakening.He took out of his pocket the paper which he had brought from her husband's table, approached the fire, and began to read by the light of the red embers: Smiling grimly, Ned Beaumont finished reading the will and tore it in half three times.He stood up, hand over the fire screen, tossed the torn paper into the glowing embers.The shards burned brightly, only to be extinguished a moment later.He took the wrought-iron shovel standing by the fire, and pounded the burnt paper ash into the coals. Then he went back to Mrs. Matthews, poured some whiskey into the glass he had been drinking from earlier, held her head up, and poured some into her mouth.She was half awake coughing when Opal Mazvi came downstairs. Shad O'Leary came down the stairs, followed by Jeff and Rusty, all fully dressed.Ned Beaumont was standing by the door, already in his raincoat and hat. "Where are you going, Ned?" Sand asked. "Go get the phone." O'Leary nodded. "That's a good idea," he said, "but I have something to ask you." He walked the rest of the stairs, followed by the two men behind him. Ned Beaumont said, "What is it?" He drew his hand from his pocket.O'Leary and the two men behind him could see a gun in his hand, but it was blocked by the body of Ned Beaumont, who was sitting on a stool with Eloise Matthews around Opal can not see. “这只是为了防止你们干蠢事。我在赶时间。” 欧罗瑞像没看到那把枪一样，但也没再往前走。他沉吟道：“我刚刚在想，桌上有一瓶打开的墨水和一支笔，椅子又正对着桌子，可是怪得很，我们却没看到任何写了字的纸。” 内德·博蒙特故作惊讶地微笑。“是吗？”他朝门的方向退了一步，“那可是挺奇怪的，没错。等我打了电话，几个小时后再回来跟你们讨论。” “现在谈比较好。”欧罗瑞说。 “抱歉，”内德·博蒙特迅速退到门边，摸到身后的门钮，打开门，“我不会走太远的。”他跳出去，摔上门。 The rain has stopped.他离开小径，跑进房子另一旁的高草丛里。身后的房子里传来另一声摔门声。内德·博蒙特听得到河流就在左边不远处。他穿过草丛，朝河的方向跑去。 一声高而尖锐的呼啸响起，声音不大，听上去像是在他的后方。他挣扎着走过一块软泥地，来到树丛，转往河流的反方向。哨音又一次响起，这次是从他的右边。树林尽头是肩膀高的灌木丛，他沿着灌木丛走，即使这个夜晚一片漆黑，他还是弓着腰隐藏行迹。 他一路登高而去，爬上陡峭而崎岖的山坡，灌木丛割着他的脸与双手、钩扯着他的衣物。他跌倒了三次，趔趄了好几回。哨音不再响了。他找不到那辆别克，也没找到他来时的路。 现在他拖着步子，即使脚下没东西，他也频频绊跟头。不久他来到山顶，往另一边下坡时，跌倒的次数更加频繁了。到了山脚，他找到一条路，向右转顺着那条路走。大块的黏土不断沾上鞋底，他不得不一次次地停下来，用手枪把泥刮掉。 当听到身后传来的狗吠时，他摇摇晃晃地停下来往后看去。五十尺之外的路边，在他刚刚路过之处浮现出房子模糊的轮廓。他转回去，来到一扇高高的门前。那狗——夜里不见形影的怪物——在门的另外一边用力扑跃，叫得很凶。 内德·博蒙特摸索着门的边缘，找到门钮，打开来，蹒跚地走进去。狗后退了，兜着圈子，佯装要攻击却始终不前，喧嚷的叫声充斥整个夜晚。 一扇窗吱呀往上推开，有个大嗓门喊：“见鬼，你在对那狗干什么？” 内德·博蒙特虚弱地笑了。然后他招招手，提高声音回应：“我是地检署的博蒙特，想借用你的电话。下头那边有人死了。” 那个大嗓门又吼道：“我听不见。闭嘴，吉妮！”那狗又吠了三声，一声比一声狠，然后安静了下来。“现在说吧。” “我要打电话。我是地检署的人。下头那边有人死了。” 大嗓门喊道：“你说什么呀！”窗子关了起来。 狗又开始叫、兜圈子、佯装攻击。内德·博蒙特把沾满泥巴的手枪掷向它。它转身跑到房子后头不见了。 前门被一个红脸、身子像圆桶、穿着蓝色长睡衣的矮个子男人打开了。“圣母马利亚，你的样子糟透了！”内德·博蒙特从门灯下走进走廊时，那人抽了一口气。 “电话。”内德·博蒙特说。 他身体晃了晃，红脸男子扶住他。“别慌，”他沙哑地说，“告诉我要打给谁、说什么。你现在什么都做不了。” “电话。”内德·博蒙特说。 红发男子搀着他进了走廊，打开一扇门，然后说：“电话在这边，幸好老太太不在家，不然你这身泥巴休想进去。” 内德·博蒙特跌坐在电话前的椅子上，但没有马上拿起电话。他蹙眉看着那个穿蓝色睡衣的男子，沙哑地说：“出去，关上门。” 红脸男子没进房间，把门关上了。 内德·博蒙特拿起话筒，身体前靠，好让胳膊肘抵着桌子撑住自己，然后拨了保罗·马兹维的号码。等待时他的眼睛闭合了几次，但每次他都强制着再睁开。最终，他对着电话开口时，眼神很清醒。 “喂，保罗，我是内德……别管了，你听我说。马修斯在他河边这里的房子自杀了，没有留下遗嘱……听着，这件事很重要。他留下一大堆债务，又没有指定遗嘱执行人，所以要由法院指定一个人去管理他的遗产。你懂了吗？……是的，去找个合适的法官——比如菲尔普斯，我们就可以让《观察者》退出战局——除非站在我们这边——直到选举结束。懂了吗？……好，好，现在你听我说。这只是一部分事情。而现在马上要做的是，《观察者》一早会有个爆炸性新闻登出来，你得阻止。我建议你把菲尔普斯从床上挖起来，让他发出禁止令——任何能阻止报纸出版的东西都成。你得让《观察者》的员工们明白他们的立场，一个月左右，这家报纸就会由我们的朋友掌权……我现在没法告诉你，保罗，但那是个爆炸性新闻，而你一定要阻止报纸上市。把菲尔普斯从床上挖起来，自己亲自去盯这件事。报纸上市之前，你或许还有三个小时……没错……什么？……奥珀尔？哦，她没事。她跟我在一起……是，我会带她回家……你会打电话跟警方说马修斯的事吧？我这就回那儿去。对。” 他把话筒放回桌上，站起来，蹒跚地走向门，试了两次才把门打开，然后跌进门廊，撑着墙壁才没倒地。 红脸男子赶到他面前。“靠着我，老弟，我会让你舒服一点。我弄了一张毯子铺在长沙发上头，你就不用担心泥巴——” 内德·博蒙特说：“我想借一辆车。我得回马修斯家。” “死掉的就是他吗？” "right." 红脸男子抬起眉毛，吹了一声尖锐的口哨。 “你能不能借我车？”内德·博蒙特问。 “天哪，老弟，讲点道理！你现在怎么开车？” 内德·博蒙特摇摇晃晃地后退，避开搀扶。“那我走过去。”他说。 红脸男子瞪着他。“你也没法走。如果愿意等我提上裤子，我就开车载你回去，虽然我觉得你很可能半路就会死在我车里。” 内德·博蒙特被那红脸男子搀着进门时，奥珀尔·马兹维和埃洛伊丝·马修斯都在一楼的大房间里。他们没敲门就直接走进去，两位女士紧靠着站在一起，眼睛睁大，满脸惊惶。 内德抽离同伴的手臂，茫然地环视房间。“沙德呢？”他喃喃道。 奥珀尔回答：“他走了。他们都走了。” “好吧，”他艰难地说，“我要单独跟你谈一谈。” 埃洛伊丝朝他跑过来。“你杀了他！”她喊道。 他憨憨地笑了起来，想揽住她。她尖叫着，一只手朝他脸上扇过去。 他直直地往后倒去。红脸男子想抓住他，但是没成功。他倒在地板上，然后不动了。