Chapter 11 chapter Ten

Mrs. Ramsay, of 62 Wilbraham Lane, was saying encouragingly to herself, "Two days, just two more days!" She brushed her wet hair from her forehead.There was a loud bang from the kitchen.Mrs Ramsey really didn't want to explore the crash.Oh, ah - only two days.She walked across the corridor, and suddenly pushed open the kitchen door, her voice was much gentler than three weeks ago: "See what good things you have done?" "I'm sorry, Mom," said her son Bill, "we were just bowling these tin cans and they rolled under the china cabinet." "We didn't mean to," Bill's brother Ted added.

"Ah, pick up those things and put them back in the cabinet, then sweep up the broken ones and dump them in the trash can." "Oh, Mom, not now." "Now" "Ted to do it," Bill said. "That's a good thing to say," Ted said, "something is always pushed on me, and if you don't do it, I won't do it." "You have to." "I will not do it." "You want me to fix you." "you dare!" The two children twisted together, and Ted was forced to the table, where a bowl of eggs was crumbling. "Hey, get out of the kitchen!" cried Mrs Ramsey.Pushing the children in, closing the door, then picking up the tin cans on the floor and cleaning up the broken china.

"Just two more days." She thought to herself, they would go back to school, and thinking about it, she felt like a mother. She vaguely remembered a female columnist saying that a woman has only six happy days in a year, the first and last day of every holiday.Mrs Ramsey could not help nodding her head at the words, sweeping away the fragments of her favorite tableware.Thinking of how joyful she was expecting her sons to come home five weeks ago, what about now? "Oh, tomorrow," she said to herself each time, "Bill and Ted are going to school tomorrow. I can't wait!"

What joy she had felt when she had greeted them at the station five weeks before.How excited the children's feelings are!They ran and jumped excitedly around the house and garden.She also baked a special cake for them to go with their tea.And now—what was she expecting?A day of complete calm.No need to scramble to cook, and there are no endless chores.She loved children--they were good children, that goes without saying.She was proud of them, but they were also tiring, arguing about drinking and eating, energetic and noisy. At this moment, she heard a hoarse cry, and turned her head vigilantly, it was all right.

They went out into the garden.It was better this way, there was plenty of room for them to move about, but they might disturb the neighbors, and she prayed they wouldn't bother Mrs Hemm's cat.She was so worried, frankly, not for the cat's sake, but because the wire around Mrs. Heim's garden could easily snag clothes.She glanced hastily at the first-aid kit that had been prepared on the dressing table. It was not that she made too much fuss about the natural accidents of her energetic childhood. In fact, her invariable first words after the accident were always : "How many times have I told you! I told you not to bleed in the living room. If you want to bleed, go to the kitchen. There is a vinyl floor there, and I can clean it."

Suddenly a scream stopped in the middle, and there was a sudden silence, Mrs Ramsey thought, how unnatural the silence was.She stood there hesitantly, holding a dustpan for sweeping up broken porcelain in her hand.The kitchen door opened and Bill stood with an uncharacteristically excited expression on his eleven-year-old face. "Mum," he said, "there's an Inspector and another out there." "Oh," said Mrs Ramsey, with relief, "what's the matter with him, my dear?" "He's looking for you," said Bill. "I think it must be about murder. You know, Miss Pebmarsh's house, what happened yesterday."

"I don't know why he came to me," said Mrs Ramsey, with a hint of chagrin in her voice. Such is life, one thing unfinished and another, she thought.How could Inspector Chose have time to get the potatoes ready for Irish stew at such an embarrassing time? "Well, all right," she said with a sigh, "I'm coming." She threw the broken china into the trash can under the sink, washed her hands, smoothed her hair, and was about to go out with Bill, when Bill said impatiently, "Oh, come on! Mom." Mrs. Ramsey came into the living room with Bill clinging to her side.There were two men standing in the room.The youngest son Ted greeted them with big admiring eyes.

"Mrs Ramsey?" "Good morning." "The children must have told you I am Inspector Hardcastle." "I'm really sorry," said Mrs Ramsey. "It's very unfortunate. It's been a very busy morning. Will it take a lot of time?" "No, in a few minutes," Inspector Hardcastle assured. "May we sit down?" "Oh yes, please sit down, please sit down." Mrs Ramsey sat in a high-backed chair and watched them impatiently.She doubted in her heart, probably not just for a few minutes. "You two don't have to stay here." Hardcastle smiled.

"Well, we're not leaving," Bill said. "We're not leaving," Ted echoed. "We want to hear from you," Bill said. "Yeah!" Ted added. "A lot of blood?" Bill said. "Is that man a thief?" Ted said. "Shut up, boys," said Mrs. Ramsey. "Didn't you hear—Mr. Hardcastle? He doesn't want you." "We're not going," Bill said. "We're listening." Hardcastle went to the door, opened it, and looked at the children. "go out." There are only two words, spoken calmly, but with great authority.The two children stood up obediently, shuffled, and walked out of the room.

"It's not easy," said Mrs. Ramsey, admiringly, "but why can't I do it?" But she thought again, she was the mother of the children.She had heard that her children were not the same outside as they were at home.Mothers always pamper their children, but others are not themselves after all, and they don't want to see disobedient children.But a child who is well-mannered at home and causes trouble and accusations outside is probably worse—yes, it must be worse.When Inspector Hardcastle came back and sat down, she remembered the purpose of their visit today. "If you want to know what happened yesterday on the nineteenth," she said nervously, "I can't really be of much help, Inspector. I don't know anything, I don't even know anyone who lives in that house .”

"In that house lives a Miss Pebmarsh, who is blind, and works at Aaronburg College." "Oh, it's like that," said Mrs. Ramsey, "I'm afraid I don't know anyone on the other side of the lane." "Were you at home in person yesterday afternoon between half-past twelve and three o'clock?" "Oh, yes," said Mrs Ramsey, "I have to cook, but I was out before three o'clock, and I took the children to the movies." The inspector took the photo from his pocket and handed it to her— "Please tell me, have you ever seen this man before?" Ramsay looked at the photograph with some interest. "No," she said, "no, I don't think so. I don't remember if I actually met the man." "Didn't he ever come to your house—to sell insurance, or something like that?" Mrs Ramsey shook her head more positively than before. "No, no, I'm sure not." "His name—we have a clue—was Curry. R. H. Curry." He looked at her expectantly.Mrs Ramsey shook her head again. "During the children's vacation, I really don't have time to pay attention to other things," she said apologetically. "Ah, the holidays are always the busiest time, isn't it?" said the inspector, "Your children are very good and energetic, but sometimes they can be wild." Mrs. Ramsey smiled undeniably. "Yeah," she said, "it wears people out, but they're good boys after all." "That's how I see it," said the Inspector. "They're both very good and intelligent. If you don't mind, I'd like to say a few words to them before I leave. Children sometimes notice that grown-ups don't go Things to watch out for." "I don't think so," said Mrs. Ramsey. "We don't live next to each other." "But the back gardens of your two families are opposite to each other." "Well, yes," agreed Mrs Ramsey, "but still in isolation." "Did you know Big Heim at number 20?" "Acquaintance, so to speak," replied Mrs. Ramsey, "for cats and other things." "You like cats?" "No, no," said Mrs. Ramsey, "no, I meant complaining." "Oh, I see. Someone's talking. What's the complaint?" Mrs Ramsey flushed. "The problem is—" she said, raising her voice a little, "that one person keeps cats like this—fourteen, weird or crazy. I like cats, and we used to have a tabby ourselves, and he was very good at Catching mice. But that woman is crazy. She made special food for them to eat, and let those poor things lose their lives. Of course, cats will always want to escape. If I am also her cat, I will They run away too. Seriously, the kids are really good, they don't want to bully the kittens. I mean, cats naturally take care of themselves, they are very sensitive animals, you have to treat them reasonably." "You're quite right," said the Inspector. "You must be very busy looking after them these holidays. When will they go back to school?" "The day after tomorrow," replied Mrs Ramsey. "I hope you can rest well then." "I must let myself be lazy for a while," she said. The young man who had been taking notes silently by the side suddenly opened his mouth, which made her startled. "You should get a foreign girl to come to your house to do something," he said. "It's called 'attp air' (reciprocal), she comes to your house to do some odd jobs, and then you teach her English." "That might be something to try," thought Mrs Ramsey.She added: "But I always feel that foreigners are difficult to get along with. My husband often laughs at me. Of course, he knows more than me! I don't travel abroad as often as he does." "Is he not at home now?" said Hardcastle. "Yes—he went to Sweden at the beginning of August. He's a construction engineer. It's a pity he had to leave as soon as the kids were on holiday. He treats the kids very well and likes playing with electric trains even more than the kids. There are There are toys scattered everywhere, which often make people fall." She shook her head and said, "A man is like a child." There was a bit of pampering in her tone. "When will he be back, Mrs Ramsey?" "I never knew," she said with a sigh. "It's hard to say—" The voice trembled a little.Colin watched her keenly. "We can't take your time any longer." Hardcastle stood up. "Maybe your kids can show us your garden?" Bill and Ted, who had been waiting in the corridor, made noise immediately. "Of course," Wall said apologetically, "but our garden is not very big." The garden at No. 62, Wilbraham Lane, showed that it had been laboriously arranged in the past.On one side of the garden was a long strip of dahlias and asters, then a patch of lawn that was not neatly cut, the grass on the path had grown enough to be cut twice, and models of airplanes and space shuttles representing modern science were scattered here and there. , looks worn out.At the end of the garden was an apple tree bearing beautiful red apples, and beside it was a pear tree. "That's the house." Thad pointed to the space between the two fruit trees. "The back of Miss Pebmarsh's house is clearly visible. That's number nineteen where the murder took place." "The view is good from here," said the Inspector, "but I think it will be better from upstairs." "That's right," said Bill. "I wish we had visited upstairs yesterday, but we didn't." "Let's go to the movies," Ted said. "Have you found any fingerprints?" Bill asked. "Yes, but of no use. Did you go into the garden yesterday?" "Oh yes, in and out," Bill said, "but we haven't heard or seen anything all morning." "If we were at home yesterday afternoon, we would have heard the screams," Ted said, looking disappointed. "What a horrible scream!" "Do you know Miss Pebmarsh? The woman who lives in that house." The children looked at each other and nodded. "She's blind," said Tad, "but she moved about the garden as well as a human being, and couldn't swing a cane. She threw the ball back to us once, and it was a good one." "You didn't see her yesterday?" The children shook their heads. "I don't see her in the morning, she's not home in the morning," Bill explained, "and usually she doesn't come into the garden until after tea." Colin was looking at the water pipe lying on the ground along the path, running from the faucet in the house to hanging in the corner near the pear tree. "I never knew pear trees needed watering," he said. "Oh, that..." Bill looked a little embarrassed. "If that's the case, then..." said Colin, "if you climb up this tree--" he said with a sudden grin, staring at the boys, "you can shoot the cat with water, can't you?" ?” The children's feet grind the gravel on the ground, and their eyes are turned away. "Is that what you did?" asked Colin. "Ah, this," Bill said, "but it won't hurt them, it's not like a slingshot." He looked innocent. "I reckon you must have used a slingshot before." "Just for fun," Thad said. "We didn't really hit anything with it." "Anyway, you had a good time with the pipes," said Colin, "and Mrs Hemm came and complained afterwards, didn't she?" "She's always liked to blame people," Beale said. "I suppose you must have tried to find clues after the murder?" said Hardcastle. The two boys looked at each other. "After you came back from watching the movie and heard that there was a murder, you probably must have passed through the fence and entered the garden of No. 19 to have a good look around." "Uh—" Bill stopped cautiously. "As it always happens," said Hardcastle earnestly, "perhaps you've found something we've overlooked. I'd be very glad if you--er--show us what you've picked up." gratitude." Bill made up his mind. "Ted, you go get it," he said. Ted ran away obediently. "I'm afraid what we've found isn't really useful," Bill confessed. "We—we just thought it was important." He looked at Hardcastle uneasily. "I know that very well," said the Inspector. "That's the way most police work is, and it's often more disappointing." Bill seemed relieved a lot. Tad came running back and handed him a worn, dirty, knotted hand.Khakass will untie the knot and spread out what is bound inside.Two boys stood beside him, one on each side. A broken cup handle, a broken piece of wicker china, a broken steamed bun, a rusty fork, a coin, a clothespin, a small piece of red glass, half a pair of scissors. "Some interesting stuff," said the Inspector gravely. He looked at the eager faces of the children, felt sympathy in his heart, and pulled up the piece of glass casually. "I want this, maybe I can find some clues." Colin picked up the coin and studied it carefully. "That's not British money," said Tad. "No," said Colin, "not English money." He looked at Hardcastle. "Take this too," he suggested. "Don't tell anyone about it," said Hardcastle, with an air of mystery. The children happily agreed.