Chapter 3 third chapter

Rosamund Daly and Kenneth Marshall sat on the short cut lawn at the top of the rock, with Gull Bay below.Located on the east side of the island, some people come here to swim in the morning because it is quieter.Rosamund said: "It's good to be away from the crowd." Marshall replied vaguely: "Well," he turned over and sniffed the turf, "it smells so good, do you still remember the prairie in my hometown?" "certainly." "Those were great days." "Ok." "You haven't changed much, Rosamon." "I've changed, I've changed a lot."

"You have always been very successful, and you are also very rich, but you are still the same Rosamund." Rosamund murmured: "I really hope that's the case." "What did you say?" "It's nothing, Gan Yishi. It's a pity that we can't maintain the good nature and high ideals of our youth, isn't it?" "I didn't know what a good nature you were, boy. You used to have a lot of tantrums. You nearly strangled me once in a fit of rage." Rosamund laughed out loud.She said, "Do you remember the day we took Toby to catch water rats?"

They talked about the past for a while, then paused, and Rosamund's fingers played with the clasp of her purse.Finally she finally spoke, "Gan Yishi?" "Hmm." His answer seemed unclear, and he was still lying on the lawn. "If I say a few words that really shouldn't be said, will you never talk to me again?" He rolled over, sat up, and said very seriously: "I don't think I'll ever think that you have anything to say that shouldn't be said. You know, you are a very measured person." She nodded, accepting the meaning of his last remark, only concealing her delight at it. "Gan Yishi, why didn't you divorce your wife?"

There was a change in his face.His expression turned cold—the original happiness was gone.He took the pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it.Rosamund says: "I beg your pardon if I have offended you." He said calmly, "You didn't offend me." "Oh, then, why don't you get a divorce?" "You do not get it." "Don't you—do you like her that much?" "It's not just about that, you know, I married her." "I know, but she's—quite notorious." He thought for a while, and carefully stuffed the shredded tobacco into it, "Really?——I think so."

"You can divorce her, Gan Yishi." "My dear child, you really shouldn't say such things. Just because other men will be confused by her, it doesn't mean that she will also be confused." Rosameng held back what she was about to say, and then said: "You can make arrangements for her to ask for a divorce from you—if that's what you want." "Of course it is possible." "You should do this. Gan, really, I'm not kidding, you have to think about your children." "Linda?" "Yes, Linda." "What does Linda have to do with this?"

"Elena is not nice to Linda, really. I think Linda has her feelings about a lot of things." Kenneth Marshall struck a match to light his pipe.He took a couple of puffs on his cigarette and said, "Well—that's the problem. I think Elena and Linda aren't on good terms with each other. Maybe it's not a good thing for that little girl. That worries me a bit." Rosamund said, "I like Linda—very much, and there's something—good about her." Gan Yishi said: "She is like her mother, she values ​​everything." Rosamund said: "Then don't you think—really—it's time to get rid of Elena?"

"Arranged divorce?" "Yeah, people do that all the time." Kenneth Marshall said suddenly indignantly: "Yes, that's exactly what I hate." "Hate?" She was taken aback. "Yes, the modern way of life. If you get a thing you don't like, get rid of it as soon as possible. Damn it, there must be such a thing as confidence in the world. If you marry a woman, Determined to take care of her, hey, then you have to do it, this is your responsibility, you found it yourself, I really hate marriages that are quick and easy to leave, Elena is my wife, the thing is This is it."

Rosameng leaned forward, and she said in a low voice, "Is that how you think? You will never leave until you die?" Gan Yishi Marshall nodded, and said, "Exactly." Rosamund said: "Ah." Mr. Horace Platt, coming back to Cove Cove by a winding and narrow path, nearly knocked Mrs. Redfern down at a bend.She leaned her whole body against the mountain wall, and Mr. Blatt braked hard. "Hi--hello," Mr. Blatt greeted cheerfully.He was a big man with a red face and a balding ring of red hair, and his ambition was to be the soul of the group wherever he went.In his opinion, the Paradise Hotel needs to add some more joyful atmosphere.He often wondered why so many people seemed to disappear as soon as he arrived.

"Nearly turned you into strawberry jam?" said Mr. Blatt triumphantly. Christine Redfern said, "That's right, that's pretty close." "Get in the car," Mr. Blatt said. "Oh, thank you—I'll walk." "Nonsense," Blatt said, "what's that car for?" In this case, Christine Redfern got into the car.Mr. Blatt restarted the engine because he had just slammed on the brakes and the engine had stopped.Mr. Blatt asked: "What are you doing walking around by yourself? It's not right for a pretty girl like you." Christine said anxiously: "Oh, I like someone alone."

Mr. Blatt nudged her a little, nearly sending the car into a rock. "Girls like to say that," he said, "and that's not what it means at all. You know, this place, the Paradise Hotel, needs a little life, it's not fun, it's lifeless. Of course, there are quite a few people Living here, there are many children, but there are also many grandparents, such as the British who has been to India, who is so boring, and the sportsman type pastor, and the chattering American couple, and the one who stayed The foreigner with the moustache—his moustache really amuses me! I think he must be a barber or something."

Christine shook her head, "No, he's a detective." Mr. Blatt almost crashed his car into the rock again. "A detective? You mean, he put on makeup?" Christine Redfern smiled and said, "No, that's what he was. His name is Hercule Poirot. You must have heard of him." Mr. Blatt said, "Didn't catch his name. Oh, yes, I've heard of him, but I thought he was dead. . . Damn, he should be dead, he came here to check What case?" "He's not here to investigate - he's just here on vacation." "Well, I suppose so." Mr. Blatt seemed suspicious. "Seems kind of rude, doesn't it?" "Uh," Christine said hesitantly, "maybe it's a little weird." "I mean," said Mr. Carlatt, "what's wrong with Scotland Yard? I'm always with England." When they reached the foot of the hill, he honked his horn triumphantly and parked his car in the hotel car. in the room.The garage is located on the land opposite the hotel for the sake of the ebb and flow of the tide. Linda Marshall was in a little shop that sold everything for tourists in Coat Comb Bay.One shelf is full of books that are rented for two yuan a time. The latest books are ten years old, some are old books from twenty years ago, and some are even older.Linda took one first, then dubiously pulled another from the shelf, flipped through it, and decided she couldn't possibly read Four Feathers and Others.She took down a little book with a soft brown cover and lost track of time... Then Linda, with a start, put the book back on the shelf, as Christine Redfern's voice was beside her rang and said, "What are you reading, Linda?" Linda said hurriedly: "It's nothing, I'm looking for a book." She took out a book casually, walked to the counter, and took out two dollars to pay the rent. Christine said: "Mr Blatt just drove me back - almost knocked me over at first, I couldn't walk the embankment back to the hotel with him, so I said I had to do some shopping. " Linda said: "He was horrible, he was always talking about how rich he was, and his English was terrible." Christine said, "Poor guy, I feel sorry for him." Linda disagreed. She didn't think there was anything to be pitiful about Mr. Blatt. She was too young to understand.She walked with Christine Redfern out of the shop and toward the causeway.She had been busy with her own thoughts, she liked Christine Redfond, and it seemed to Linda that only Christine and Rosamund Darley were tolerable on the island, neither of them talkative, For example, when walking together now, Christine didn't say anything.Linda thinks this is a very reasonable thing. If there is nothing worth talking about, why bother to keep chirping?She sank into her own thoughts. She said suddenly: "Mrs. Redfern, do you think it's all terribly--terrible--told you--well, it's going to explode..." These few words were very ridiculous, but Linda's face was tense, her expression was full of anxiety, but she didn't smile at all.Christine Redfern looked at her a little puzzled at first, and saw that there was nothing to laugh at... She gasped, and said: "I have—I have—exactly a feeling of……" Mr. Blatt said, "So you're the famous detective, eh?" They were sitting in the bar, which was Mr. Blatt's favorite hangout. Hercule Poirot approved with his customary immodestness.Mr. Blatt went on: "What are you doing here--investigating crimes?" "No, no, I'm here for leisure, I'm on vacation." Mr. Blatt blinked. "You must have said that anyway, wouldn't you?" Poirot replied: "Not necessarily." Horace Bratt said: "Ah! come on, tell the truth, you're perfectly safe with me, and I won't tell anything I hear! I learned to keep my mouth shut years ago, and if I didn't know what to do You wouldn't have done it if you had done it. But you know what most people are like—chattering on and on about whatever they hear, and you can't stand that in your business. Kind of thing! So you've got to insist that you're here for nothing but a vacation." Poirot asked: "Why do you have the opposite idea?" Mr. Platt closed one eye, and he said: "I have seen a lot of the world, and I know everyone's habits. A person like you should Going to Duvery, or Torquet, or somewhere in France for a holiday, where you'll—how should I say it?—be at your disposal." Poirot sighed. Looking out of the window, where the rain was falling and the fog was surrounding the island, he said: "You may be right! At least those places will have plenty of entertainment when it rains." "There's a casino..." Mr. Blatt said, "You know, I've worked so hard most of my life that I don't have time for holidays and fun, and I want to do well, and I do well, and now I can do whatever I want Well, I've got a lot of money, and I tell you, I've enjoyed a lot in the past few years." Poirot murmured, "Oh, really?" "I don't know how I came to be here," continued Mr. Blatt. Poirot said: "I feel strange, too." "Eh? What did you say?" Poirot waved his hand, "I'm not someone who has never seen the world, I also think you should go to Duvery or Biri City." "But we didn't go to those places, but we all ended up here." Mr. Blatt laughed hoarsely. "I don't know why I'm here," he said after a moment's thought. "You know, I think it's Bootlegger's Island and Paradise Inn. The name sounds romantic. You know, the kind of place that makes your heart beat, makes you You think of things like pirates and bootleggers when you were young." He laughed a little embarrassedly, "I used to go out by boat when I was young, of course not here, it was on the east coast, the strange thing is that once you try this kind of thing I can't get rid of the taste. If I want, I can get a pretty good yacht, but I don't think so. I like to just drive around in my small boat, and Redfang Desperate to go sailing, he's been out with me once or twice, and he's hard to find now - haunts Marshall's red-haired wife all the time." He paused, then continued in a low voice. : "Most of this hotel is full of old sticks, and Mrs. Marshall is probably the only one alive! I think Marshall will be busy enough to keep an eye on her. About her on the stage--and off the stage There are a lot of stories about her, many men are crazy about her, you just watch it, something will happen one day." Poirot asked: "What happened?" Horace Bratt said: "It depends. Look at Marshall. I think he has a strange temper. Actually, I know who he is. I've heard a little about him. I've seen him before." With a man as silent as he is, you never know what's going to happen to him, Redfang better watch out—" He broke off because the gentleman he was talking about walked into the bar.He went on aloud, somewhat uncomfortably: "As I said, it's a lot of fun sailing around here. Hi, Redfonne, come have a drink with me. What'd you drink? A martini? Well, how about you? White Mr. Luo?" Poirot shook his head. Patrick Redfern sat down, and said: "Riding a boat? It's the funnest thing in the world. I wish I'd been in a boat more often. I used to row a boat by the sea when I was a kid." Mile." Poirot said: "Then you know this area well?" "Of course! I was familiar with this place before the hotel was built. There used to be only a few fisherman's huts and a dilapidated old house in Leathercomb Bay. There is nothing else on the island." "There used to be a house here?" "Oh, yes, but it's been unoccupied for many years, and it's almost collapsed. There used to be many legends that there were some secret passages in the house leading to the goblin's hole. I still remember that we used to be looking for the secret passage. " Horace Platt's drink was spilled.He cursed, wiped it clean and asked, "Where is the goblin hole?" Patrick said: "Ah, don't you know? It's just beyond Leprechaun's Bay. It's hard to find the entrance. There's just a long narrow gap behind the embankment of stones. One can just squeeze through, and inside It opened up and became a rather big cave. You can imagine how fun it is for a child. An old fisherman took me to it. Now, even fishermen don't know that place. The other day I asked a fisherman why that place was called Xiaoyao Bay, and he couldn’t answer.” Horace Platt said: "But I still don't understand. What is this little monster?" Patrick Redfon said: "Oh, this is a local legend. There is also a goblin cave in Da Demo. It is said that you will leave a needle there as a gift for the goblin. The goblin is in the swamp. spirit." Horace Bratt said: "Ah, it's really interesting." Patrick Redfon continued: "There are still many legends about goblins in this area. Some people say that goblins can ride on people's backs. Now there are farmers who come home in the middle of the night and say they are ridden by goblins." Horace Platt said: "You mean they had a glass or two of old wine?" Patrick Redfern smiled slightly and said, "According to common sense, this is the best explanation." Blatter looked at his watch.He said, "I'm going to the dining-room. Come on, Redfonne. Pirates are my favorite, not goblins." Patrick Redfonne watched him go, and said, laughing, "I'm sure, I'd love to see the old boy run into a goblin." Poirot pondered and said: "For a hard-working businessman, Mr. Blatt has a very romantic imagination." Patrick Redfon said: "That's because he didn't have much education, at least that's what my wife said. If you look at the books he reads, they are either suspense detective novels or stories about the pioneering of the West." Poirot said: "You mean he still thinks like a child?" "Uh, don't you think so?" "I, I don't know him very well." "I don't really know him very well either. I've sailed with him once or twice—but he really doesn't like having other people with him. He'd rather be alone." Said Hercule Poirot: "It's very strange. It's not at all like what he does on land." Redfang smiled and said, "I know, we all seem to be unable to avoid him, he really wants to make this place very lively." Poirot was silent for a minute or two. He studied the other party's smiling face intently, and suddenly said unexpectedly, "I think, Mr. Redfern, you are very good at enjoying life." Patrick stared at him in surprise. "Indeed, why not?" "That's true," agreed Poirot. "On this point, I should like to congratulate you." Patrick Redfern replied with a smile, "Thank you." "So, I, an old man, who is much older than you, want to give you some advice." "what is it then?" "A very wise friend of mine in the police said to me years ago: 'Hercule, my good friend, if you want to be safe, avoid women.'" Patrick Redfonne said, "I'm afraid it's too late. I'm married, you know." "I know that. Your wife is a very charming and nice woman. I think she likes you very much." Patrick Redfern immediately retorted, "I like her very much, too." "Ah," said Hercule Poirot, "I am so glad to hear that." Patrick's brows suddenly frowned, as if a thunderstorm was coming, "I said, Mr. Poirot, what are you going to say?" "Women," said Poirot, leaning back and closing his eyes, "I know a thing or two about them, they have a knack for making life incredibly complicated, and the English, they don't know anything about it." Secrecy. If you must come here, Mr. Redfern, why did you bring your wife?" Patrick Redfang said angrily, "I don't know what you mean by that." Hercule Poirot said calmly: "You know very well. I'm not so stupid as to argue with a man who is in a daze. I'm just trying to persuade you." "You believe those damn aunts, Mrs. Gardner, and Brest women—they've got nothing to do but gossip about a woman because she's pretty—they do that to her. .” Hercule Poirot stood up.He murmured, "Are you really so young?" He shook his head and left the bar.Patrick Redfang glared after him. Hercule Poirot paused in the corridor, with the doors open, on his way from the dining-room to his room—a night wind had blown in, the rain had stopped, the fog had lifted, and the night was clear.Hercule Poirot found Mrs. Redfern sitting outside in her favorite chair. He went up to her and said, "The chair is wet. You shouldn't be sitting here. You'll catch a cold." "Yes, I shouldn't be sitting here, but let him go, it doesn't matter anyway." "Ah, ah, you're not a child! You're an educated woman, and reason about things." She said coldly: "I can assure you, I will never catch a cold." Bai Luo said: "The weather today is humid, windy and rainy, and the fog is so thick that people can't see through it. Now? The fog has cleared, the sky is clear, the stars are shining in the sky, and so is life." Christine whispered: "Do you know what I hate about this place the most?" "what is it then?" "Pity." She said the word like a whip.She went on: "Do you think I don't know? You think I don't see? All day long those people say: 'Poor Mrs. Redfern—that poor little woman.' But I'm not little at all, I I'm tall, they say I'm small because they feel sorry for me, I can't bear it!" Hercule Poirot spread the handkerchief carefully on the chair, and sat down.He pondered and said: "There is some truth to this." She said, "That woman—" She stopped again. Poirot said gloomily: "Madam, will you let me tell you a word? This is a truth, as real as the stars above our heads. The world is like Elena Starr—or Eileen People like Na Marshall—nothing at all." Christine Redfern said, "Nonsense." "I can assure you, really. Their kingdoms are only temporary. A woman who really counts must have good morals and good minds." Christine said disdainfully: "Do you think men care about good morals and brains?" Poirot said solemnly: "Basically, it is true." Christine laughed."I disagree with you," she said. Poirot said: "Your husband loves you very much, madam, I know that." "You can't know." "Hey, I know, I've seen the way he looked at you." All of a sudden, she collapsed, and she burst into tears, leaning on Poirot's broad shoulders.She said, "I can't stand it... I can't stand it..." Poirot patted her on the arm and comforted her: "Patience—only patience." She sat up straight, pressed the handkerchief to her eyes, and said in a slightly suffocated voice: "It's nothing, I'm much better, you go, I—I want to be alone for a while." He obeyed, let her sit there, and walked back to the hotel by himself along the path.Just as he was approaching the hotel, he heard a slight human voice, he turned slightly away from the path, and there was a gap in the bushes.He saw Elena Marshall, with Patrick Redfang beside her, and he heard the man say in a voice full of emotion: "I'm crazy about you—you drive me crazy—and you kind of like I—a little bit?" He saw Elena Marshall's face - like a happy cat, he thought - full of bestiality, not human.She said softly: "Of course, Patrick, my dear, I admire you very much, and you know very well..." Hercule Poirot, for the rare sake of eavesdropping, returned to the lane and walked straight back to the hotel. Suddenly, a figure came up to him, it was Marshall.Marshall said, "It's a lovely evening, isn't it? Especially when it's been a cloudy day." He looked up at the sky. "It looks like the weather will be fine tomorrow."