Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen

I walked up Sharing Cross Street and turned into the labyrinth of streets between New Oxford Street and Covent Garden.There, you have every kind of store you can think of: an antique store, a doll's hospital, a ballerina store, a foreign delicatessen. I resisted the temptation of the doll hospital's blue or blue glass eyes, and finally came to my destination.It was a small dark bookstore in an alley, not far from the British Museum.There are all kinds of books outside the shop, including ancient novels.Old textbooks, as well as various scattered books, are marked with their selling prices, and even some ancient books from a long time ago have complete pages and bindings.

I walked sideways through the door, because the piles of books on both sides of the entrance were getting higher and higher every day, and it seemed that they might collapse at any time, so I had to go in sideways.Needless to say, there are books everywhere in the store, lying or leaning on them, stacked or tilted, obviously they will fall if touched.The distance between the bookshelves is so narrow that it is not easy to walk by.Every bookshelf, every table, is piled high with books.On a round stool in the corner, there was an old man wearing a pointed round cap with a large, flat face like a stuffed fish. He looked like a man who had given up the struggle of strength and weakness.He wanted to control the book, but apparently the book controlled him.He seems to be in the world of books, retreating in the waves of books.He is the owner, Mr. Soloman.

He recognized me, his cold eyes turned to gentleness, and he nodded. "Is there a book I want?" I asked. "You'll have to go up and see for yourself, Mr. Colin. Still doing some seaweed stuff?" "Yes" "Well, you yourself know where they are. Marine Biology, Fossils - Antarctica is on the third floor. A package came in the day before yesterday, I opened it, but it's not finished, it's in the corner, yourself have a look." I nodded and walked sideways to the back of the shop, where there was a rickety, small, dirty staircase.The second floor is full of oriental cultural relics, art books, medicine, and French classics.Every corner of this floor is surrounded by curtains.The general customers don't know it, and only acquaintances can enter it, and that's where the so-called "fine Ben Yalong" is stored.

I passed there and continued up to the third floor. On the third floor are archaeology, natural history, and other elegant books, sorted but not seriously.I squeezed past the students, the colonel, and the priest, around a corner of the bookshelf, and stepped over the unpacked packages on the floor, only to find that the road ahead was blocked by a man and a woman hugging each other tightly.They stood there, rocking from side to side, and I said, "I'm sorry!" and threw them open, raised the curtain that covered one door, took the key out of my pocket, put it in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open. And enter.I found myself incongruously in what looked like a hallway, with books describing Highland cattle cluttered on the walls, and with a shiny knocker on the door.I carefully knocked on the door knocker, and a gray-haired middle-aged woman answered the door. She was wearing a pair of strange old-fashioned glasses, a black dress, and an unexpected red striped jacket.

"It's you, isn't it?" She said without any kind words. "He just asked about you yesterday. He didn't like it." She shook her head at me like a governess at a disappointed child. Same.She added, "Be more careful in the future and make things better." "Well, come on, Nani," I said. "Don't call me Nani," said the middle-aged woman. "I told you, it's rude." "That's your fault," I said, "you shouldn't be talking to me like a child." "I think you've grown up... You'd better go in quickly and do it well."

She pressed the bell, picked up the telephone on the table, and said, "Mr. Colin, . I walked through a door at the end and walked into another room, filled with cigar smoke, it was difficult to see anything, until I was able to open my sore eyes, I saw half of the team leader, sitting on an old , On the old chair that no one wants, there is an old-fashioned revolving writing desk next to the armrest. Colonel Baker put down his glasses, pushed open the revolving table with a large book, and looked at me with displeasure. "Finally saw you?" he said. "Yes, sir," I said.

"Have you gained anything?" "No, sir." "Hey! It's no use, Colin, I told you, it's no use. Half-moon, really!" "I'm still wondering." "Well, you're still thinking, but we can't keep waiting for you to think." "I admit it's just a hunch." "It's harmless," said Colonel Baker. He is a man who likes to argue. "Some of my best cases have been based on hunches. Only, this time your hunches don't seem to be working. Has the public pub been investigated yet?" "Yes, sir. I told you I've started work on 'half-moon,' I mean the houses in the half-moon alley."

"I didn't think you were referring to bakeries selling French bread, but then again, it's not entirely impossible. Some bakeries blindly worship the French-style croissant, and in fact, do not make real bread. French taste. In this day and age, everything is frozen, even this bread, which is why nothing tastes right today." I waited to see if the old boy would take the subject further, it was one of his hobbies.But seeing my expectant look, Colonel Baker restrained himself. "Have you cleared it all?" he asked. "It's almost there, just a little bit left."

"You need a little more time, don't you?" "Yes, I need a little more time," I said, "but I have no intention of acting at the moment, there's a coincidence there that might—just might and, a little bit." "Don't be fancy, give me the facts," "Survey Title: Wilbraham Alley." "But you got nothing, or did you?" "I can't tell." "Speak clearly, speak clearly, boy." "Someone's been murdered in Wilbraham Lane." "Who?" "Unidentified. He has a card in his pocket with his name and address printed on it, but it's a fake."

"Well, interesting. Why, hindered?" "I can't see it, sir, but..." "I know, I know. But . "It's at a place called Crowding, ten miles from Portbury." "Oh, oh, a great place. But what are you doing here? Don't you usually ask permission from your superiors? Don't you often rush straight in?" "Yes, sir, I think so." "Well, what's the matter with you then?" "There are one or two I need to investigate." Colonel Baker sighed, pulled back the revolving table, took out a ballpoint pen from his pocket, blew, and looked at me.

"talk?" "A house called 'Diana's Boarding House', actually 20 Wilbraham Lane, where lived a woman named Mrs Heim and about eighteen cats." "Diana? Well," said Colonel Baker, "Luna! Diana's boarding house. Now, what has this Mrs. Hemm done?" "It's all right," I said, "her heart is only for her cat." "That's pretty good cover," said Baker appreciatively. "It's possible. That's it." "No," I said, "there's a man called Ramsay who lives at 62 Wilbraham Lane." , said to be a construction engineer, anyway, he often goes abroad." "Well, sounds good," said Colonel Baker. "Sounds good. You want to know the man, don't you? No problem." "He's got a wife," I said, "a very nice wife, and two noisy children—men." "That's not surprising," said Colonel Baker. "We've had this kind of thing before, remember Pendleton? He had a family too, and his wife was the stupidest woman I've ever met." , had no idea that her husband was not at all a respectable salesman of oriental books. Speaking of which, I remembered that Pendleton also had a German wife, daughters, and wives in Switzerland. I Don't know what these ladies are--whether it's his personal intemperance, or a cover-up. Of course, he said it was a cover-up. Well, anyway, you want to know about Mr Ramsey. Anything else?" "One thing I'm not quite sure about. There's a couple on the 63rd, Mark Norton, retired professors, Scots, old, gardening to pass the time. There's no reason to think there's anything wrong with them— but--" "No problem, we'll investigate and make sure. Besides, who are these people?" "The gardens of these people and the garden of the haunted house are either adjoining or partially adjoining." "How about Number Nineteen itself?" "The owner is a blind woman who used to be a teacher. She works in an academy for the blind. The local police have investigated her thoroughly." "She lives alone?" "Yes" "What do you think of these other people?" "It is my opinion," said I, "that if the murderer were any of these others, and the murder took place in any of the houses I have just mentioned to you, the body would be moved to No. 19 in broad daylight. , a little risky, but very easy. It's only a possibility. Here's something for you to see. Here, here it is." Baker took the stained coin I handed him. "Czech coins? Where did you find them?", "I didn't find them. I found them in the back garden of No. 19." "Interesting. After all, you have gained something by pursuing Xinyue so persistently." He added thoughtfully, "There is a hotel called 'Rising Moon', just next door. Street. Why don't you try your luck?" "I've been there," I said. "You always have answers to other people's questions, don't you?" said Colonel Baker. "A cigar?" I shook my head and said, "Thank you—no time today." "Going back to Crowding?" "Yes, I'm going to the inquest." "It will definitely be postponed. Isn't it to chase girls there?" "Of course not," I said warily. Colonel Baker suddenly giggled. "Be careful, boy! Don't get carried away. How long have you known her?" "Where did I come from—I mean—oh, this—there was a girl who found the body." "What did she do when she found the body?" "Screaming" "Very well," said the Colonel. "She came running to you, crying on your shoulder, and told you what happened. Is that so?" "I don't know what you're talking about," I said calmly, "please read this." I showed him the police photo. "Who is this man?" Colonel Baker asked. "deceased." "It's probably the girl who knocked you out that killed him. The whole story sounds unbelievable." "You didn't hear me tell the story," I said. "I didn't tell you." "I'll know if you don't tell me," said Colonel Baker, waving his cigar. "Go to your inquest, boy, and watch out for that girl. Is her name Diana, or Timis, or any name that has something to do with the new moon?" "No, neither." "Oh, remember, it probably is!"

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