Chapter 8 Chapter VIII Dismissal

Ned Beaumont opened a door marked Eastern State Construction and Contracting, said good afternoon to two young ladies sitting behind desks, then walked through a large The man said something, then pushed open a door marked "Private Use".He walked into a rectangular room, where Paul Mazvi sat behind a mottled desk, looking at some papers in front of him.A small man stood beside him hesitantly and in awe. Mazvi looked up and said, "Hello, Ned." He pushed the papers aside, and told the little man, "You'll bring this rubbish later." The little man put away the papers, said, "No problem, sir," and added, "Hello, Mr. Beaumont." He left the room.

"You look like you didn't get much sleep last night, Ned. What are you up to? Sit down," Mazvi said. Ned Beaumont took off his coat, put his hat on a chair, and pulled out a cigar. "No, I'm fine. Do you have any news?" He sat on the corner of the battered desk. "I want you to meet Mela Flynn," said the blond man. "If anyone can talk him into it, it's you." "Okay. What's wrong with him?" Mazvi made a sad face. "God knows! I thought he was on my side, but he's going to play tricks on us." A gloom flashed in Ned Beaumont's dark eyes.He looked down at the blond man. "So is he, huh?"

Mazvi thought carefully for a moment, then asked slowly, "What do you mean, Ned?" "Is everything all right?" Ned Beaumont responded with another question. Mazvi shook his broad shoulders impatiently, but the scrutiny in his eyes still persisted. "It's not so bad," he said. "We can get by without McLaflynn's ticket source, if necessary." "Perhaps," Ned Beaumont's lips tightened, "but it's hard to let the ticket source go down like this." He put his cigar in the corner of his mouth and said, "You know, we're not like the two So much ahead a week ago."

Mazvi grinned indulgently at the man at the table. "My God, you're doing it again, Ned! Have you ever seen anything pleasing to your eye?" He continued calmly, without waiting for an answer. Smash it, but in the end it didn't." Ned Beaumont lit his cigar, puffed and said, "That doesn't mean it won't be." He pointed the cigar at Mazvi's chest, "If the murder of Tyler Henry doesn't come to light soon, you And then don't worry about the campaign, because no matter who wins, you're screwed." Mazvi's blue eyes had become opaque, but the expression on his face remained the same, as did his voice. "What do you mean by that, Ned?"

"The whole town thinks you killed him." "Really?" Mazvi raised one hand, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "Don't let this kind of thing bother you. It's not the first time I've been talked about." Ned Beaumont forced a smile, and asked with false admiration, "What else haven't you experienced? Have you tried electroshock therapy?" The blond man laughed. "Don't think I'm going to try," he said. "Paul, you're not far from the electric chair now," said Ned Beaumont softly. Mazvi smiled mockingly again. "Jesus Christ!"

Ned Beaumont shrugged. "Are you busy?" he asked, "I'm not wasting your time with all this nonsense?" "I'm listening to you," Mazvi said quietly. "I've never lost anything by listening to you." "Thank you, sir. Who do you think made Mela Flynn sway?" Mazvi shook his head. "He thinks you're screwed," said Ned Beaumont. "Everyone knows the police didn't take Taylor's killer seriously, and everyone thinks it's because you killed him. Myla Flynn concluded the case It's enough to cost you an election."

"Really? He thinks he would rather let Shad control the city than me? He thinks that I have a worse reputation than Shad because I was involved in a murder?" Ned Beaumont frowned at the blond. "You're either kidding yourself or me. What does Shad's reputation have to do with this? He's not clearly standing behind his candidate. You're clearly here, and this murder If the case is not found out, it is your candidate who is responsible.” Mazvi touched his chin again, leaning his elbows on the table, his handsome ruddy face was calm.He said: "We've talked a lot about what other people think, Ned. Now let's talk about what you think. Do you think I'm done?"

"Perhaps," said Ned Beaumont, low and sure. "If you don't do anything, it will." He smiled. "But your candidate has a chance." "That," Mazvi said indifferently, "you have to explain it carefully." Ned Beaumont leaned over, carefully flicked the ashes of his cigar into the brass spittoon beside the table, and said dryly, "They're going to sell you." "yes?" "Why not? You let Shad take away most of the low-level voters who originally supported you, and you only want to rely on those who are worthy of respect and win the election with a higher-quality crowd. But this group of people began to waver. So, Your candidate can ingeniously arrest you for murder, and the venerable townspeople rejoice, for their noble officials are so brave that when their real boss breaks the law, they lock him up as well. Prison. These townspeople will be eager to vote for their hero to run the city for another four years. You can't blame these guys too much. They know that if they do it, they'll be safe: and if they don't, they'll You'll lose your job."

Mazvi asked, putting his hand off his chin, "You don't think too highly of those people's loyalty, do you, Ned?" Ned Beaumont smiled. "Both each other," he retorted, and then the smile faded, "I'm not just guessing. I went to Farr this afternoon. I had to break in—he hid from me. He pretended he wasn't there Investigate the murder case, and hide the things I found out, and I have nothing to say in the end." He curled his lips contemptuously, "Fare, that guy who is always at my will." "That's just Farr alone." Mazvi said.

Ned Beaumont interrupted him at once. "Only Farr, but it's a warning sign. Rutledge, Brody, even Lennie could sell you out for self-preservation, but if Farr does something, it means he understands that everyone else is following him. Stand aside." He frowned at the blond man's impassive face, "If you don't believe me, go ahead, Paul." Mazvi made a gesture of indifference with his hand on his chin. "I'll tell you when I don't believe you," he said. "How did you just happen to be looking for Farr?" "Harry Sloss called me today. Looks like the night of the murder, he and Ben Freese saw you and Taylor arguing in Chinatown, or so they say." Ned Beaumont said flatly Looking at the blond man, he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Ben has already talked to Farr, and Harry wants us to spend money to buy him to shut up. Two of your men have already seen that the wind direction has changed. I have seen Farr Virtue when afraid, so I went to check him."

Mazvi nodded. "Are you sure he's plotting against me?" "right." Mazvi stood up and went to the window.He stood there with his hands in his trouser pockets, looking out through the glass for about three seconds, while Ned Beaumont sat at the table smoking a cigar and staring at the broad back of the blond man.Then Mazvi asked without looking back, "What did you tell Harry?" "Perfunctory him." Mazvi left the window and returned to the table, but did not sit down.The rosiness on his face deepened, his expression didn't change, and his voice was very steady. "What do you think we should do?" "Against Sloss? No need to do anything. The other brat has gone to Farr, and it doesn't matter what Sloss does." "I don't mean that. I mean the whole thing." Ned Beaumont dropped his cigar into the spittoon. "I told you, if Tyler Henry's murder isn't solved right away, you're finished. That's the way it is, and it's the only thing worth trying for." Mazvi stopped staring at Ned Beaumont, he was looking at a large blank space on the wall, his lips were tightly pressed, his temples were covered with sweat.He made a voice from deep in his chest: "No, think of another way." Ned Beaumont's nostrils fluttered with his breath, and his brown eyes were so dark that they were almost the same color as the pupils.He said, "Nothing else, Paul. Any other way is in the hands of Shad or Farr's gang, and they can destroy you." Mazvi almost roared, "There must be another way out, Ned, think about it." Ned Beaumont stepped away from the table and stood before the blond man. "No. This is the only way. Whether you like it or not, you have to deal with it, or I will deal with it for you." Mazvi shook his head violently. "No, don't worry about it." Ned Beaumont said, "I won't listen to you about that, Paul." Mazvi looked into Ned Beaumont's eyes and whispered in a raspy exhale, "I'll kill him, Ned." Ned Beaumont drew in a breath and let it out in a long sigh. Mazvi clasped Ned Beaumont's shoulders with both hands, and his words were heavy and slurred. "It was an accident, Ned. He followed me down the street as I was leaving, and grabbed a cane before we went out. We... had a bit of an argument before, and he grabbed me and tried to hit me with the cane. I don't know how. Anyway, snatched the cane out of his hand, and hit him on the head with it--not very hard, couldn't have hit him too hard--but he fell back and hit his head on the pavement." Ned Beaumont nodded, his face suddenly blank except for the extreme concentration he had been listening to Mazvi.In line with this, his tone of voice when he asked was also very concise: "Where's the cane?" "I took it away under my coat and burned it. I'm sure he was dead and walked to the club and I found the cane in my hand on the way, so I hid it under my coat and then burned it." "What kind of cane is that?" "A rough brown cane, very heavy." "And what about his hat?" "I don't know, Ned. I think I knocked it off and someone picked it up." "He wore it before?" "Yes, of course." Ned Beaumont smoothed his beard with his thumbnail. "Do you remember when Sloss and Ferris drove by?" Mazvi shook his head. "Don't remember, but they might have passed by." Ned Beaumont frowned at the blond. "You go away with the cane, burn it, and keep hiding it, and that's the worst thing you can do," he complained. "You could have killed in self-defense." "I know, but I don't want to, Ned," said Mazvi hoarsely. "I want Janet Henry more than I've ever wanted in my life. If I turn myself in, even if it's an accident, then I don't want to." How many chances are there?" Ned Beaumont smiled into Mazvi's face, his voice low and bitter. "At least you have a chance than you do now." Mazvi stared at him without saying a word. Ned Beaumont said: "She always thought you killed her brother. She hated you and wanted to send you to the electric chair. She was the first to put suspicion on you, sending anonymous letters around to anyone who might be interested. man; she made Opal betray you. She came to my house this morning and told me this, and wanted me to take her side. She—” Mazvi said, "Enough." He stood erect, his eyes blue and cold. "What's the matter, Ned? Do you want her for yourself or—" There's no difference." He rudely pointed his thumb at the door, "Get out, get out, I'll fire you." Ned Beaumont said, "I'll go when I'm done." Mazvi said, "Go when I tell you to go. I don't believe what you say anymore, you never told me the truth, and I don't believe you anymore." "All right," said Ned Beaumont, taking his hat and coat and going out. Ned Beaumont came home pale and gloomy.He slumped into a red chair, took a bottle of bourbon and a glass and put them on the nearby table, but didn't drink.He stared sullenly at his black-shoeed feet, biting his nails.The phone rang, but he didn't answer.Twilight gradually replaced the light of day in the room.When he stood up and walked to the phone, the room was already dark. He dialed a number and said, "Hello, Miss Henry, please." While waiting, he whistled lightly and piercingly to pass the time, and then said, "Hello? Miss Henry? . . . Yeah...I just got back from Paul and told him everything about you...yes, you guessed it right. He did the thing you think..." He laughed, "No Wrong. You know he's gonna call me a liar, refuse to listen to me, throw me out, and he did that... no, no, it's ok. Sooner or later... no, really... well, maybe It's not going to change. There are some things that can never be taken back...yes, all night, I thought...that's fine...well, bye." He poured a glass of whiskey and drank it down, then went into the dark bedroom, set the alarm clock for eight, and lay down on the bed with all his clothes on.For a while he stared at the ceiling, and then he fell asleep, his breathing ragged, until the alarm clock rang. He got up slowly, turned on the light, went into the bathroom, washed his face and hands, put on a new collar, and lit the fireplace in the living room.He was reading a newspaper when Janet Henry arrived. She was excited, but at the same time assured Ned Beaumont that she hadn't expected his confession of his visit to Paul to have such an end, it was a surprise.The joy in her eyes was evident, and her lips smiled uncontrollably as the words of apology came out. He said: "It's ok. Even if I knew it was going to happen, I would have told him anyway. I think I knew subconsciously beforehand that this kind of thing is what it is. Even if you warned me, I would just take it as a challenge. " She held out her hands to him. "I'm happy," she said, "I don't want to pretend." "I'm sorry," he said to her as he took those hands, "but I shouldn't have violated my principles to avoid this outcome." She said, "Now you know I was right. He did kill Taylor." She had a questioning look in her eyes. He nodded. "He said he killed it." "Will you help me now?" She clenched her hand and moved closer to him. He hesitated, frowning down at her eager face. "It was a self-defense homicide, or an accident," he said slowly, "I can't—" "That's murder!" she shouted. "Of course he would say it was self-defense!" She shook her head impatiently. "Even if it was self-defense or an accident, wouldn't he go to court to prove it like ordinary people?" "He's waited too long and a month of silence will be bad for him." "Then whose fault is it?" she asked. "If it was self-defense, do you think he would have been silent for so long?" He nodded emphatically. "That's because of you. He's in love with you and doesn't want you to know he killed your brother." "But I know!" she exclaimed angrily, "everyone will know sooner or later!" His shoulders shrugged slightly, his face darkened. "You won't help me?" she asked. "right." "Why? Didn't you two quarrel?" "I believe what he said. I know it's too late to go to court to say this. We fell out, but I won't hurt him." He licked his lips. "Let him go. Even if you and I don't intervene, there will be People deal with him." "I don't want it," she said, "I don't want to let him go, I want him to get the punishment he deserves." She held her breath, her eyes were gloomy, "You trust him so much, do you dare to find evidence that he lied? " "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. "Are you willing to help me find evidence of the truth, whether he is lying or not? There must be conclusive evidence, and we will find some. If you really believe him, you won't be afraid to help me find it." He studied her face for a moment, then asked, "If I help you find positive evidence, will you promise to accept it no matter what?" "Yes," she replied quickly, "if you can take it too." "And you can keep it a secret until we've done it—find our decisive evidence—and don't use what you've found to deal with him until you've gathered all the evidence?" "I can." "Then it's settled," he said. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she wept with joy. "Sit down," he said, his thin face grave and terse. "We've got to plan. Did you see him in the afternoon or evening after my quarrel with him?" "No." "Then we're not sure what he thinks of you. Maybe he'll think I'm right later, but there's no difference between him and me—we're done—but we You still have to figure it out as soon as possible.” He smoothed his mustache with his thumb nails, frowned and stared at her feet, “You have to wait for him to come to you, and you can’t risk alarming him. If he’s already suspicious of you , that would confirm his thoughts. How sure are you of him?" Sitting in a chair by the table, she said, "As far as a woman can control a man, I am sure." She smiled shyly, "I know it sounds...but I do, Beaumont gentlemen." He nodded. "That's probably all right, but you won't know until tomorrow. Have you tried him?" "Not yet, haven't really asked. I'm waiting—" "It's too late now. No matter how sure you are about him, you have to be careful now. Is there anything else you're hiding from me?" "No," she said, shaking her head, "I don't quite know what to do, that's why I hope you—" He interrupted her again: "Haven't you thought about hiring a private investigator?" "Thinking about it, but I'm afraid I'll run into someone who will tell Paul. I don't know who to turn to, or whom to trust." "I have one that works." He ran his fingers through his dark hair. "Now I want you to find out two things—if you don't already know. Is your brother's hat missing? Paul said he was Wearing a hat, but I didn't have a hat when I found the body. See if you can find out how many hats he has, and see if they are all there." He smirked, "Except for the one I borrowed." Not paying attention to his smile, she shook her head and raised a hand and said in discouragement, "I can't do it. We cleaned out his stuff a while ago, and I doubt anyone knows what he has." thing." Ned Beaumont shrugged. "I think that's the way to go," he told her. "The other thing is the canes, are there any missing--his, or your father's--especially a rough heavy brown cane." "That's my father's," she said eagerly, "I think it's still there." "Go find out," he said, biting his thumbnail. "Today and tomorrow will be enough for you to be busy. Maybe you can make sure of Paul's attitude towards you." "What to do?" she asked, "I mean about the cane." She stood up excitedly. "Paul said your brother hit him with that cane, and then Paul snatched it up and knocked him down with the cane. He said he took the cane with him and then burned it." "Oh, I'm pretty sure Father's cane is still there," she yelled.Her face was pale and her eyes were wide open. "Doesn't Tyler have a cane?" "There's only one black cane with a silver tip." She stretched out a hand to wrap around his wrist, "If all the canes are there, it means he—" "Maybe it means something," he said, putting his hand on hers, "but don't play tricks," he warned her. "No," she promised. "If you know how happy I am and how much I look forward to having your help, you will know that you can trust me." "I hope so." He took his hand away from the back of hers. Ned Beaumont paced the room for a moment by himself, his face tense, his eyes twinkling.At nine-forty he looked at the watch on his wrist, then took his coat and hurried to Harry Sloss at the Majestic Hotel.The people at the hotel said he wasn't there.He left there, hailed a taxi, climbed in and said, "West Road Hotel." The West Road Hotel is a square white building--it looks gray at night.It is located in the woods three miles away from the urban area, backed by the road.The first floor was brightly lit, a few cars were parked in front, and others were parked on the left, dragging long shadows. Ned Beaumont nodded to the familiarity of the doorman and entered the large dining room.A three-piece band was playing enthusiastically, and eight or nine people were dancing.He walks down the aisle between the tables, along the dance floor, and stops at the bar in the corner.He was alone at the seat by the bar. The bartender was a fat guy with a rosacea. "Good evening, Ned. I haven't seen you much lately," he said. "Hello, Jimmy. I've been working on my health lately. A drink." The bartender started mixing drinks.As the orchestra finished playing, a woman's voice shrieked, "I don't want to be in the same place as that bastard Beaumont." Ned Beaumont turned and leaned back against the edge of the bar.The bartender stopped moving while holding the shaker glass. Lee Wilshere stood in the middle of the dance floor glaring at Ned Beaumont, holding an arm on a large young man in an overly tight blue suit.He's staring at Beaumont too, looking a little goofy.She said: "He's not a good guy, if you don't kick him out, then I'll go." The others present looked at them with concern and fell silent. The youth's face flushed.The embarrassment on his face was all the more evident with the scowl he was trying to feign. The girl said, "If you don't go, I'll go over and give him a slap." Ned Beaumont smiled. "Yo, Lee. Have you seen Bernie lately?" Li cursed, and angrily took a step forward. The bulky young man held out a hand to stop her. "I'll handle him," he said, "the bastard." He adjusted his collar, took off his coat, and strode off the dance floor to Ned Beaumont. "Where do you have such courage?" He asked forcefully, "How dare you talk to that young lady like that?" Ned Beaumont looked at the young man calmly, and stretched out his right hand, palm up, on the bar. "Jimmy, give me something to wake him up," he said, "I don't want to fist fight with him." The bartender had already reached under the bar, took out a short stick and handed it to Ned Beaumont.Ned Beaumont said without moving his hand, "She's got a lot of nicknames. The last time I saw her with the guy, he called her 'Stupid Bitch.'" The young man stood up straight, his eyes wandering. "Remember, don't leave me alone one day." He turned to Li Wilshire and said, "Let's go, let's get out of this damn place." "You go by yourself," she said bitterly, "I will only go together when I see a ghost. I'm really fed up with you." A stout man with a mouth full of gold teeth suddenly appeared and said, "Of course you will go, both of you, get out." Ned Beaumont laughed and said, "Coch, the - er - miss is with me." Koch said, "That's all right," and then to the youth, "Get out, wimp." The youth went out. Lee Wilshere went back to her table and sat with her face in her fists, staring at the tablecloth. Ned Beaumont sat down facing her and said to the waiter, "I've got a Manhattan for me at Jimmy's, and I want to order. Have you had it, Lie?" "I've had it," she said, without looking up. "I'd like a drink." Ned Beaumont said, "Okay, I'll have a small steak with mushrooms, and see what fresh vegetables Tony has, and some iceberg lettuce and tomato with Roquefort, and a coffee." After the waiter left, Li said bitterly: "Men don't have any good things, not a single thing. That big idiot!" She began to cry quietly. "Perhaps you have picked the wrong man," Ned Beaumont said tentatively. "It's your turn to tell me that?" She looked up at him angrily, "You've hurt me so badly." "I did you no harm," he protested, "and it's not my fault if Bernie has to pawn your jewels to pay me back." The band started playing. "It's never a man's fault," she complained, "come dance." "Well, okay." He reluctantly agreed. Back at the table, his cocktail and Lily's silver fudge arrived. "How's Bernie?" he asked as they drank their drinks. "I don't know. I haven't seen him since he's out of town and don't want to see him again. Another nice guy! I've had a lot of luck this year! I've run into him and Tyler and that bastard just now Already!" "Taylor Henry?" he asked. "Yeah, but I didn't have anything to do with him," she explained quickly, "because I was living with Bernie at the time." Ned Beaumont finished his cocktail and said, "You're just one of the girls he used to see occasionally in that suite on Charter Street." "That's right." She said, looking at him carefully. "I think we should have another drink," he said. She powdered her face when he beckoned the waiter to come and order wine. The doorbell woke Ned Beaumont.He got up drowsily, coughed a few times, and put on a kimono-style nightgown and slippers.The alarm clock showed that it was just past nine, and he went to answer the door. Janet Henry entered apologetically. "I know it's too early, but I just can't wait. I've been trying to call you yesterday and barely slept a wink because I couldn't sleep. My father's walking stick is there. So, look, he's lying. " "Your father had a heavy rough brown cane?" "Yes, Major Sobridge brought it to him from Scotland. He never used it, but it's always there." She smiled triumphantly at Ned Beaumont. He blinked sleepily, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Then he's lying, absolutely right," he said. "And," she said cheerfully, "he was there when I came home yesterday." "Paul?" "Yes, he proposed to me." The sleepiness had disappeared from Ned Beaumont's eyes. "Did he mention our quarrel?" "Didn't say a word." "Then how do you answer?" "I said that Taylor had just passed away so recently that it would have been too soon for me to even get engaged. But I didn't say it couldn't be later, so I believe we reached some kind of agreement." He looked at her curiously. The joy faded from her face.She put a hand on his arm, her voice hoarse. "Please don't think I'm so heartless," she said, "but—oh! I wish...that our plan would be completed, so that nothing else...would matter." He licked his lips and said very softly: "If you could love him as much as you hated him, what would happen to him." She stamped her foot and shouted, "Don't say that! Never say that again!" Lines of anger appeared on his forehead, and he pursed his lips tightly. "Please," she said regretfully, "but I can't bear to hear it." "Excuse me," he said, "have you had breakfast yet?" "No. I was too anxious to tell you the news." "Okay, then eat with me. What do you want to eat?" He walked to the phone. After ordering breakfast, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, washed his face and hands, and combed his hair.When she got back to the living room she had taken off her hat and coat and was standing by the fire smoking a cigarette.She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the phone. He went to answer the phone. "Hey... yes, Harry, I was looking for you, but you weren't here... I wanted to ask you about—you know—the kid you saw with Paul the other night, did he wear a hat ?No...he did? Are you sure?...does he have a cane in his hand?...OK...no, Harry, I can't speak to Paul about that. You'd better go find him yourself...OK ……goodbye." He put down the phone and got up, Janet Henry looked at him questioningly. He said: "It was one of the two guys who claimed to have seen Paul talking to your brother that night. He said he saw the hat but not the cane. But it was dark and the two men It's driving by. I don't think they'll see very well." "Why are you so interested in that hat? Is it important?" He shrugged. "I don't know, I'm just an amateur detective, but a thing always has its meaning, more or less." "Did you find anything after breaking up yesterday?" "No. I spent some time in the evening buying drinks with a girl Taylor was hanging out with, but I found nothing." "Do I recognize it?" she asked. He shook his head, then stared at her sharply and said, "Not Opal, if that's the answer you're thinking of." "Don't you think we might—could get some news from her?" "Opal? No. She thinks her father killed Tyler, but that's her guess. She has no evidence at all except your letter and The Observer stuff—any inside information." Janet Henry nodded, but she didn't seem convinced. Breakfast is delivered. The phone rang while they were eating.Ned Beaumont went over to answer: "Hello... yes, Ma... what?" He listened, frowning, for a few seconds, and then said, "There's nothing you can do but let them go Now, I think it's all right... No, I don't know where he is... I don't think I will... Well, don't worry, Mom, it's all right... Sure, that's it... Goodbye." He said with Returning to the dining table with a smile, "Fal thinks the same as you," he said and sat down. "It was Paul's mother just now. A police officer sent by the District Attorney's Office is questioning Opal." There was a flash of light, "She can't help them anyway. But they are indeed starting to press on." "What is she calling you for?" Janet Henry asked. "Paul's out and she can't find him." "She doesn't know that you and Paul had a falling out?" "Obviously not yet." He put down his fork. "Seriously, are you sure you want to get to the bottom of this?" "I want to get to the bottom of this, and I want nothing more than this in my life," she told him. Ned Beaumont smiled bitterly, and said, "Paul told me in exactly the same words how much he wanted you." She trembled, her face was stiff, and she looked at him coldly. He said: "I don't know you, I'm not sure what you think. I had a dream about you and didn't like it very much." So she smiled. "Of course you don't believe in dream interpretation?" He didn't smile. "I don't believe in anything. It may be that my gambler character is too strong, and many things can't affect me." The mockery in her smile faded away, and she asked, "What dream made you not even trust me?" She raised a finger, pretending to be serious, "When you finish speaking, I will tell you a My dream is about you." "In the dream I was fishing," he said, "and I caught a very big fish—a rainbow trout, but very big—and you said you wanted to see the fish. You caught it and Throw it back into the water before I stop you." She smiled happily. "Then what did you do?" "That's the end of the dream." "You talk nonsense," she said, "I'm not throwing your trout back into the water. Now I'm telling you my dream. I'm—" Her eyes widened, "your When did you dream? The night you came to my house for dinner?" "No, it was last night." "Oh, what a pity. It would be better if we dreamed the same night, the same hour, the same minute. My dream was the night you came to dinner. We—it was in a dream— — We got lost in the forest, we were both tired and hungry. We walked and walked, and we came to a small house, and knocked on the door, but no one answered. We tried to open the door, but it was locked. Then we went from A window peeped in and saw a large table piled high with all kinds of food. But we couldn't get in through the window because of the iron bars added to the window. So we went back to the door and kept knocking opened the door, but there was still no answer. Then we thought that many people would hide the keys under the doormat, so we looked and found it. But when the door was opened, we found hundreds of snakes on the floor, coming from the window It was out of sight. All the snakes were slithering towards us and we slammed the door and locked it and stood there listening to them hissing and banging their heads on the end of the door and we were scared to death. Then you said maybe we could open the door and hide and wait for the snakes to come out and go away, so we did. You helped me up to the roof - the roof was so low in the dream, I haven't seen it in my life那么低的——你跟在我后头爬上去，然后弯腰下来把门打开，于是所有的蛇都滑行出来。我们憋着气趴在屋顶，直到几百条蛇都滑行着消失在森林里。然后我们跳下来，跑进屋里锁上门，一直吃一直吃一直吃，接着我就醒来了，坐在床上拍着手大笑起来。” “我觉得你是编的。”过了一会儿，内德·博蒙特开口说道。 "why?" “因为一开始是噩梦，后来结局却不是。而且我所做过有关食物的梦都在我有机会吃到嘴之前就结束了。” 珍妮特·亨利笑了。“不完全是编的，”她说，“不过你不必问哪部分是真的。既然你说我撒谎，那我现在什么都不说了。” “嗯，好吧。”他拿起叉子，可是没吃。他像是忽然想到似的问：“你父亲知道任何内情吗？你觉得如果我们去找他，把我们知道的事情跟他说，能不能从他那儿得到任何情报？” “可以，”她热切地说，“我觉得可以。” 他锁紧眉头思索着。“唯一的麻烦是，他可能一听就气得暴跳如雷，在我们做好准备之前把整个计划搞砸。他脾气很坏，对不对？” 她很不情愿地回答：“对，可是——”她的脸色明朗起来，恳求地说，“如果我们跟他解释为什么要耐心等到——可是现在我们已经准备好了，不是吗？” He shook his head. "not yet." 她的嘴唇抿了起来。 “也许明天吧。”他说。 "real?" “我不能保证，”他警告她，“不过我想明天可以。” 她伸出一只手横过餐桌抓住他的。“可是你得保证，一旦准备好了就得随时告诉我，不论白天或夜晚，好吗？” “没问题，这个我可以保证。”他斜睨着她，“眼看着猎物死亡，你好像不怎么难过嘛。” 他的语调让她的脸涨红了，可是她没有垂下眼睛。“我知道你觉得我是个恶魔，”她说，“说不定我真是。” 他低头看着自己的餐盘喃喃道：“希望你逮到猎物时不会失望。”

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