Chapter 8 Chapter VII

Standing on the steps of 18 Wilbraham Lane, Mr. Waterhouse hesitated, looking anxiously back at his sister. "Are you sure you're all right?" said Mr. Waterhouse. Waterhouse's sister expressed angrily impatient. "I don't know what you mean, James." Mr Waterhouse looked apologetic.He must be someone who always says he's sorry, no wonder his face always looks a little bit mean. "Oh dear, I was just saying... Remembering what happened next door yesterday..." Mr. Waterhouse was preparing to leave home for work.He was a neat, exacting man, with gray hair, slightly stooped shoulders, and a complexion not necessarily unhealthy, but always more gray than ruddy.

Mr. Waterhouse's sister, tall and thin, was a very reasonable woman who could not tolerate unreasonableness. "What's the point, James, that I'm going to be murdered today because someone in my neighbor was murdered yesterday?" "Well, Edith," said Mr. Waterhouse, "it depends on what kind of man the murderer is?" "Did you think someone would come down to Wilbraham Lane and beat up every house and pick out a victim? Seriously, James, that's a disgrace to God." "Despise God?" said Mr. Waterhouse in a living astonishment, for he had never said such a thing in his life.

"'Remembrance of the Passover,'" said Waterhouse's sister, "and let me remind you, that's the Bible." "Edith, I think that's a bit of a stretch." "I'd like to see who's going to come here and murder me," said Waterhouse's sister briskly. Thinking about it himself, Waterhouse seemed to think it was impossible.If he himself had to choose someone to kill, it would never be his sister.Anyone else who attempted to do so would be stunned with a fire-throwing iron rod or a door bolt, covered in blood, and handed over to the police in embarrassment.

"I'm just saying," the apologetic expression on his face deepened, "that there's apparently—there's—a gangster around here." "We don't know much about the truth of the matter," said Waterhouse's sister. "There will inevitably be rumors. Mrs. Howard told a bunch of inexplicable stories this morning." "I hope so, I hope so," said Mr. Waterhouse.He checks his watch. Chi really didn't like the babbling of their cleaning lady, Mrs. Howard, and his sister never wasted time refuting these lurid fantasies, but not entirely.

"It is said," said Waterhouse's sister, "that this man is the treasurer or trustee of Aaronburg College, and that he has come to Miss Pebmarsh with some questions because of a mistake in the accounts." "Did Miss Pebmarsh kill him, then?" Mr. Waterhouse seemed interested. "A blind woman? Really—" "Put a thin wire around his neck, and thus strangle him," said Waterhouse's sister. "He must have been off guard, you know, who would be wary of a blind man? But I don't believe that story," she added. "I'm sure Miss Pebmarsh is a very good character. I don't see things quite the same way as she does, but I don't think she's a murderer for that. I just think she sees things too partly, Too stubborn. Anyway, education alone is not enough. Look at those new, weird-looking elementary schools, especially the glass buildings, people think they are going to grow gherkins or tomatoes in them. I think especially in summer, Very bad for children. Mrs. Howard told me that her daughter Susan didn't like the new classroom, saying that there were so many glass windows in the classroom, it was difficult not to be distracted by things outside, and it was impossible to concentrate on listening."

"Oh, bad," said Mr. Waterhouse, looking at his watch. "I'm going to be late now, and I'm afraid I'll be much later. Good-bye, dear. Take care of yourself, and you'd better lock the door." Waterhouse's sister snorted again, closed the door casually, and when she was about to go upstairs, she hesitated for a moment, went to the golf bag, picked out a nine-iron, and placed it near the front door. "Well, that's it," said Waterhouse's sister with satisfaction.Of course, what James said made no sense at all.However, it is always good to be prepared.These days, patients in mental hospitals are easily released. They hope that patients can live a normal life as soon as possible, but in her view, it is full of danger, because she thinks these people are unreasonable.

Waterhouse's sister was in her bedroom, and Mrs. Howard hurried upstairs.Mrs. Howard was a small, round, rubber-ball-like thing that excited her most when there was trouble around her. "Two gentlemen want to see you," her eyes widened. "I think—" She paused, then added: "They're the police." After that, she handed over a business card.Mr. Waterhouse's sister glanced at it. "Inspector Hardcastle," she read. "Have they been invited to the drawing room?" "No, I put them in the dining room. I've got the breakfast table cleared, and I think that would be a better place. I mean, after all, they're just the police."

Mr. Waterhouse's sister did not quite understand her, but said: "I'm going down right away." "I suppose they wanted to ask you about Miss Pebmarsh," said Mrs. Haulder. "I wonder if you've ever noticed anything unusual about her behavior. It's said that this kind of madness often comes on suddenly, with little warning. Even so, if you look carefully, you can find a little clue, for example, the speech Attitude! Or Xiangzi's eyes! Oh, that's useless for blind people, isn't it? Scary—" She shook her head. Mr. Waterhouse's sister came down the stairs and into the drawing-room with a look of pleasant curiosity in addition to Pingshen's usual militant air.

"Inspector Hardcastle?" "Good morning, Miss Waterhouse." Hardcastle rose.A tall, dark young man followed him, and Miss Waterhouse did not greet him, not even when he whispered "Sergeant Lamb." "I hope I haven't disturbed you by coming too early," said Hardcastle. "I suppose you already know what I'm here for. You must have heard what happened next door to your house yesterday." "There's no one who doesn't know that there's been a murder next door to our own," said Miss Waterhouse. "I even turned down two reporters who came to inquire about the news."

"You turned them down?" "certainly." "You're right," said Hardcastle. "Of course they won't stop there, and they will have to do everything possible to spy again. I believe you will be able to handle such matters very well." Miss Waterhouse could not help showing a certain satisfaction at the compliment. "We'd like to ask you a few of the same questions, and I hope you don't mind," said Hardcastle, "if you could tell us anything you've seen that might help us, it would be much appreciated. As far as I can tell, you were in the house at the time."

"I don't know when the murder happened," said Miss Waterhouse. "We think it was somewhere between one-thirty and two-thirty." "Yes, I was in the house at that time." "And your brother?" "He doesn't come home for lunch. Who the hell was murdered? The local papers don't seem to mention it." "We don't know who he is yet," said Hardcastle. "An outsider?" "Probably." "You mean to say that Miss Pebmarsh didn't know him either?" "Miss Pebmarsh said with absolute certainty that she had not dated this man, who she hardly knew who he was." "How can she be so sure," said Miss Waterhouse. "She can't see." "We gave her a detailed description of the man's appearance." "What does this man look like?" Hardcastle drew a photograph from the envelope and handed it to her. Miss Waterhouse studied the photograph. "No, no... I'm sure I never met him. Jesus, he seems like a decent guy." "His appearance is indeed very dignified," said the inspector. "Looks like a lawyer, or an entrepreneur." "That's true. There is no tragedy at all in the photo, as if he just fell asleep." Hardcastle did not tell her that this was one of the less "glamorous" photographs of the dead. "Death is arguably the quietest kind of business," he said. "I see that the moment this person was dying, he didn't know what was going on." "What does Miss Pebmarsh say about all this?" asked Miss Waterhouse. "She's totally confused." "That's strange!" remarked Miss Waterhouse. "Well, can you be of any help to us, Miss Waterhouse? Think about that time yesterday, were you looking out of the window, or were you just in the garden? Between one-thirty and two-thirty?" Miss Waterhouse thought back. "Yes, I was in the garden--let me see. It must have been before one o'clock, and I went in at about ten o'clock, washed my hands, and sat down to eat." "Did you see Miss Pebmarsh enter or leave the house?" "I think she's coming back—I heard the grate squeak—yes, it was after half-past twelve." "You didn't talk to her?" "Oh, no. I looked up because I heard the creaking of the iron gate. She usually comes back at this time, I think after her lessons. You probably know that she teaches at a school for the blind." "According to Miss Pebmarsh herself, she went out again about half past one. What do you think?" "Well, I can't remember the exact time—but I remember her going through my iron gate, and it's unmistakable." "Excuse me, Miss Waterhouse, but you meant 'through the bars'." "Yes. I was in the living room facing the street, and the dining room where we are sitting is facing the backyard, as you can see. After I finished eating, I went to the living room with my coffee and sat I was sitting in a chair by the window, reading The Times, and as I was turning the pages, I saw Miss Pebmarsh pass the barred gate. Inspector, is there anything unusual?" "No, nothing unusual," the inspector smiled. "Just as far as I know, Miss Pebmarsh is going to go shopping and go to the post office. I'm thinking that the road to the nearest store and post office should be in the other direction of the alley." "It depends on which shop you go," said Miss Waterhouse. "Of course the nearest shop is over there. There's a post office in Albany Road—" "Miss Pebmarsh usually passes the iron gate at this time?" "Well, to be honest, I don't know what time and in which direction Miss Pebmarsh usually goes out. I never spy on my neighbours, Inspector. I'm a busy man, and keep my own business It’s not over. I know some people who just watch the window all day long and pay attention to other people’s movements. There are more people, or the sick and weak, or people with nothing to do, who not only watch but also like to guess. Zhang, the parent of Li Gossiping all over the place." Miss Waterhouse spoke so sharply that the Inspector felt that she must be referring to someone in particular. "It's true, it's true." He went on to say, "Since Pemapu passed by your house, maybe she's going to make a call? Is that where the public phone goes?" "Yes, it's just opposite No. 15." "There is an important question I must ask you, Miss Waterhouse, did you see this man arrive here--the mystery man the papers call?" Miss Waterhouse shook her head. "No, I didn't see him, or any of the other visitors." "What were you doing between one thirty and three o'clock?" "I played about half an hour with the paper puzzle, at any rate, until I felt like it, and then went to the kitchen to do the dishes. Let me see, I wrote some letters and wrote some checks to pay the bills, Then I went upstairs and sorted out some laundry. I thought, just in my room, I noticed that there seemed to be a commotion next door, and I could clearly hear someone screaming, so naturally I went to By the window, I saw a young man and a girl by the iron gate, and the young man seemed to be hugged by the girl." Sergeant Zollam switched legs, but Miss Waterhouse did not look at him, and did not know that he was the young man of whom she had spoken. "I just saw the back of the young man's head, and he seemed to be arguing with the girl about something, and finally he made the girl sit down against the doorpost. It was very strange. Then he strode into the house." "Didn't you see Miss Pebmarsh come back not so long ago?" Miss Waterhouse shook her head. "No, I didn't go to the window until I heard the unusual scream. However, I didn't pay much attention to it. Young people are often like this-if they are not screaming and you are pushing and squeezing, then Giggling and making noise - I didn't think it was a serious thing at the time. Then the police cars came and I realized what happened." "What were you doing then?" "Ah, walking out of the house quite naturally, and standing on the steps, and going around to the back yard, I wondered what was going on, but I couldn't see anything from the back yard. When I went back to the front, I found that some people had gathered .Some say a murder has been committed in the house. It's a horror!" Miss Waterhouse shook her head violently. "Is there anything else you can think of? Can you tell us?" "Honestly, I can't think of anything else." "Has anyone tried to sell you insurance lately, or visited you, or said they were going to visit you?" "No, not at all. James and I have long been insured with the Mutual Assurance Society. Of course it's common to receive sales letters, but I can't recall anything of the kind you speak of." "Any letters signed by Curry?" "Curry? No, not really." "So, you don't know anything about the name Curry?" "Yes. Do you think I know?" Hardcastle smiled. "No, I didn't mean that," he said. "Only the murdered man took the name." "Wouldn't that be his real name?" "We found out that was indeed not his real name." "Well, a liar?" said Miss Waterhouse. "There's no evidence yet to say that." "Of course not, of course not. You must be cautious," said Miss Waterhouse. "I know there are people here who are not like this, they like to label others at any time." "Slander," Sergeant Lamb corrected, speaking for the first time. Miss Waterhouse looked at him with some astonishment, as if she hadn't known that he was going to express an opinion until then, and thought he was just a subordinate to Inspector Hardcastle. "I'm sorry I can't be of much help," said Miss Waterhouse. "I'm sorry, too," Hardcastle said. "It would be of great help to us as a witness of someone of your knowledge, judgment, and keen observation." "I wish I'd seen something," said Miss Waterhouse. Her voice suddenly sounded like a girl's, full of worry. "How is your brother, Mr. James Waterhouse?" "He, he doesn't know anything," laughed Miss Waterhouse at him. "He's never going to know anything. Anyway, he was at 'Guinford & Sweetenham' in Hale Street at the time. Oh no, there's no way James can do you any favors. I just said No, he won't come back for lunch at noon." "Where does he usually go for lunch?" "He usually goes to 'Three Feathers' for a sandwich and coffee, which is a nice place known for fast food." "Thank you, Miss Waterhouse. Ah, we will trouble you no more." He stood up and walked out of the corridor.Miss Waterhouse followed suit.Colin Lamb picked up the golf clubs by the door. "It's a good stick," he said. "The head of the stick is quite heavy." He weighed it in his hand. "I see you are prepared, Miss Waterhouse." Miss Waterhouse was slightly startled. "Honestly," she said, "I don't know how the stick got here." She quickly snatched the stick and put it in the bag. "It's a good idea of ​​yours," said Hardcastle. Miss Waterhouse opened the door and let them out. "Well," sighed Colin Lamb, "although you've worked hard to please her from the beginning, you haven't found out much. Is that your constant trick?" "For people like her, sometimes this trick works. To deal with this kind of tough person, you can only flatter." "She was like a kitten who finally got a plate of cheese, purring for joy," Colin said. "Unfortunately, we got nothing." "No?" said Hardcastle. He Lin glared at him quickly. "What's going on in your mind?" "Just a trivial detail, probably of no importance. Miss Pebmarsh went shopping and went to the post office, but instead of turning right she turned left, and according to Martindale, the call was made at about one o'clock. Fifty-eight minutes." Colin stared at him strangely. "Even though she denies it, you still think she might have made the call? She said she was sure." "Yes," said Hardcastle, "she was quite sure of it." His tone was ambiguous. "If she hit it, what was it for?" "Oh, it's all 'why,'" said Hardcastle impatiently. "Why? Why? Why all this nonsense? If Pebmarsh was calling, why did she want the girl there? If someone else was calling, why dragged Miss Pebmarsh in? We No clue at all. If that Martindale and Miss Pebmarsh were acquainted, they must know whether the caller was her, or at least sound like her voice. Oh, the harvest of the eighteenth is not Let's see if number 20 will have better luck."