Chapter 20 Chapter Nineteen

I walked into the evening twilight, it was almost dark, and the sky was quite dark, I walked forward at a leisurely pace, while looking back at the lighted windows of the house, I accidentally bumped into a People coming from the opposite side. It was a short, stocky man, and we apologized to each other, his voice deep and deep with a pedantic edge. "Sorry……" "It's okay, it's all my fault..." "I've never been here before," I explained, "so I don't know the directions. I should have brought a flashlight." "I have got."

The stranger took a flashlight from his pocket, turned it on, and handed it to me.By the light of the flashlight, I could see that he was a middle-aged man with a round and innocent face, a short mustache and glasses.He wore a good black raincoat and looked very respectable.However, I am still surprised, since he has a flashlight, why doesn't he use it? "Oh," I said awkwardly, "I found myself stepping on the grass." I walked back down the path and handed him the flashlight. "I know the way now." "No, no, please take it and return it to me at the gate."

"But you—don't you want to go in?" "No, no, I'll go in the same direction as you, er—follow the path to the bus stop, and I'll take a bus back to Bournemouth." I said, "Oh, I see." So we walked side by side. He seemed disturbed and asked me if I was going to take the bus too, to which I replied that I lived nearby. We were silent for a while longer, and I noticed that he was growing restless.He's the kind of guy who doesn't want to be at a disadvantage no matter what. "You just visited Mr. Winner?" he asked, clearing his throat.

I answered yes, and added, "I thought you were going too." "No!" he said, "no... to be honest—" he paused, "I live in Bournemouth—at least around there, and I just moved into a small bungalow." I feel like the words come up in my throat, what have I heard lately about a bungalow in Bournemouth? ... As I was trying to remember, he seemed to grow more disturbed, and said again: "You must think it's odd—of course, I admit it's odd—to hang around people's houses like this, and—er—I don't know the owner of the house. I have my reasons, but—er—it's kind of It's hard to explain. I can only say that although I have just moved to Bournemouth, I am quite well-known in this place, and I can even find a few well-known people to testify for me. In fact, I was originally a pharmacy Boss, I recently sold my property in London to retire to a place I've always found interesting."

I suddenly had an inspiration, and I thought I knew who this little man was. At this time, he still went on to say: "My name is O, Sajolly Osborne, and as I said, I had a - well, quite a good career in London - Barton Street - Paddington Green, around there when my late father was The environment here is very good, but unfortunately it has changed now—yes, it has changed a lot. Anyway, everything in this world is going bad." He sighed and shook his head. Then he added: "This is Mr. Winnerb's house, isn't it? I suppose—er—he's a friend of yours?" I deliberately said: "Not really a friend. I only met him once before. A few friends took me to his house for lunch."

"Oh, yes—I see... yes, exactly." We had now reached the entrance gate, and when we came out Mr Osborne stood hesitantly, and I returned the flashlight to him. "You're welcome, I—" He paused, and then said hastily: "I don't want you to think... Of course, on the surface, I'm trespassing on a private home, but I can assure you that I'm not just out of sheer curiosity. You must think I'm weird, and I'd love to explain— — er — er — state my position.” I waited quietly, it seemed that this was the best way.Anyway, my curiosity has been piqued and hopefully satisfied.

Mr. Osborne was silent for a while, and finally made up his mind. "I'd really like to explain it to you, Is—" "Easterbrook, Mark Easterbrook." "Mr. Easterbrook, as I said, I would like to explain my strange behavior to you, but I wonder if you have time? It's only a five-minute walk from the main road, and there's a great little restaurant near the bus station." My car will arrive in 20 minutes, I wonder if I have the honor to buy you a cup of coffee?" I accepted his invitation, and on the way Mr Osborne regained his composure and chatted comfortably about the concerts in Bournemouth, the weather, and the high-class people who lived there.

There is a neat little restaurant next to the bus stop, and there is no one else there except for a couple of young people in the corner.After we went in, Mr. Osborne ordered two coffees and pastries. Then he leaned forward and began to unburden his mind. "It all started with a case, perhaps you've read about it in the papers not long ago. The case wasn't too bizarre, so it didn't cause much sensation. Catholic priest, he was followed and killed one night. Disappointing, there are too many of these things these days. I'm not a Catholic per se, but I believe he's a good guy. Anyway, I I must first explain my special hobby. The police announced that they were eager to find anyone who saw Father Gorman the night he was killed. I happened to be standing in front of the small shop at about eight o'clock that night. I saw Father Gorman passing by and saw There was a very special-looking person not far behind him. At the time, of course, I thought nothing of it, but I am an observant person, Mr. Easterbrook, and I am used to keeping people's faces in my mind. There are so many that I People in the store are taken aback by my habit of saying, 'Oh, by the way, I remember you getting the same prescription three months ago, didn't you?' You I know, they're all glad I remembered them, and I've found it's good for my business. Anyway, I described the man I saw to the police, they thanked me, and it was over for a while.

"Now I come to the most amazing part of my story: about ten days ago, I was at a church fair held around here, and I was surprised to find that I saw the same thing I was just talking about. Man. I thought he must have had some accident, because he was in a wheelchair. After some enquiry, I found out that his name was Winable, and he was a wealthy local resident. After thinking about it for a day or two, I decided to write to the police officer who made the report, and he came to Bournemouth - yes, he was Inspector Li Jun. He seemed very suspicious that this man was really the man I saw that night. He told I, Mr Winnerb, who has been paralyzed for years, said I must have mistaken the person."

Mr. Osborne stopped suddenly, and I stirred the coffee and took a cautious sip.Mr. Osborne added three lumps of sugar to his glass. "It seems that his explanation seems to be correct." I said. "Yes," said Mr. Osborne, "yes..." His voice was clearly disappointed.Then he leaned forward again, his round, bald head glowing in the electric light, and his eyes behind the spectacles blazing wildly. "Let me explain again, Mr. Easterbrook. When I was a boy, a friend of my late father's who owned a pharmacy was brought before the court against Jean-Paul Magery, the man who poisoned his wife with arsenic. First My father's friends recognized him and went to his pharmacy to buy those medicines, and Mallig was sentenced to hang. That made a deep impression on me-I was only nine years old at the time, and I was a person who was very impressed with everything. Age, therefore, I also hope that one day I can bring a murderer to justice! Perhaps since then, I have developed the habit of recording people's faces. You may find it ridiculous, Mr. Easterbrook, but after all these years Since then, I have been thinking that maybe someone who wants to get rid of his wife will come to my shop to buy poison."

"Well, it's possible," I said. "That's right, my God," sighed Mr. Osborne, "it's a pity that it never happened, or, even if there was such a murderer, there was no justice. I think this happens often. So although this identification is not Exactly what I wanted, but at least made it 'possible' for me to be a witness in court!" There was a childlike look of joy on his face. "You must be disappointed," I said sympathetically. "Yes—yes." Mr. Osborne's voice took on the strange note of dissatisfaction again. "I'm a stubborn man, Mr. Easterbrook. As the days go by, I'm more and more convinced that I'm right. That man I saw must be Winner!" I was about to speak when he held out his hand Stop me, "I know, it was very foggy that night, and I wasn't standing very close, but the police didn't consider it, and I did identify him. Not just the facial features: hooked nose, obvious Adam's apple, but also his head The shape of the neck, the angle of the neck. I kept saying to myself: 'Forget it, forget it, just admit that you are wrong!' But I always felt that I was right. The police said it was impossible, but is it really impossible?" "But a cripple like him—" He shook his index finger vigorously to stop me, "Yes, yes, but you have to think about my experience—you'd be amazed at what people were going to do, and what they were avoiding! I can't say doctors are too gullible—if someone pretends disease, they will diagnose it quickly. But there are methods—pharmacists have methods that are more effective than doctors. For example, certain seemingly harmless drugs can cause fever, skin irritation, dry throat, or seizures. Tumor—" "But it won't make people paralyzed," I pointed out. "Yes, yes, but who said Mr. Wienerb was paralyzed?" "It's—I think it's his doctor?" "Yes, but I've done some research on that too. Mr Winnerb's doctor is in Harley Street, London—yes, the local doctor saw him when he first came, but he's retired now." and has gone abroad. Now the doctor has never been here to see Mr. Winable, who himself goes to Harley Street once a month." I looked at him curiously. "But I don't think there is any flaw in this?" "You don't understand some of the things I know," said Mr. Osborne. "I'll give you a random example. There's a—er—Mrs. They are received in different places—but she is Mrs. Wu in one place, and Mrs. Li in the other place... There is a price for Mrs. Wu and Mrs. Li to lend her the insurance card, but she also receives three insurance benefits at the same time. .” "I don't understand--" "Assuming—just assuming—" His forefinger danced more excitedly, "Mr. Wenner has contact with a real paralyzed person. The two have discussed it. The patient who looks a bit like him claims to be Wei Nabo. Nabo, then go to the doctor for a checkup, isn't everything all right? Then Mr. Wienerbo moved to the country, and the local doctor was about to retire soon, so the real patient went to the doctor for a checkup, you See, so Mr Winnerb really has a history of being paralyzed in both legs, and he's always in a wheelchair when you see him." "But his valet must know," I protested. "But maybe they're allies—the servant is with him. What could be simpler? Maybe some of the servants are allies, too." "But why?" "Well," said Mr. Osborne, "that's another question, isn't it? I don't want to tell you what I think--I'm sure you'll laugh at me. But anyway, if anyone wants an alibi, it's That's the best alibi. He could be here, there, anywhere, and nobody would know. I saw him walking in Paddington, which of course couldn't be, for he was a poor cripple in the country. "Mr. Osborne, looking at his watch, "my car is coming, I must hurry. You know, I've been wondering if I could prove it at all, so I've come here to--say To put it bluntly, just to spy. You'll say it's not good for me to do it - I agree, but I'm doing it to get the facts, to give a criminal his due... If I happen to see Winner Mr. Walking in the garden, ha! That would be great, I thought again! If they don't draw the curtains too early, I might be able to take a peek at what's going on in the house, for example, he might not expect anyone to come and watch, so he can rest assured Walking around the house, isn't he? How could he even think of that? As far as he knows, no one has ever suspected him!" "Why are you so sure it was Wenabo that you saw that day?" "I 'knew' it was him!" He stood up. "Here comes the car. Nice to meet you, Mr. Easterbrook. I feel much more at ease after I explain it to you. But I'm sure you will find it ridiculous." "Not really," I said, "but you haven't told me what do you think Mr. Winnerb is doing?" Mr. Osborne looked a little embarrassed and a little timid. "I think you're going to laugh at me, everybody says he's rich, but no one seems to know where his money comes from. Tell you what, I think he must be a crime boss or something, you know, just Draw up a plan and give it to your subordinates to execute. You may think it's ridiculous, but I-" The car stopped and Mr. Osborne ran over immediately. I walked all the way back in thought... What Mr. Osborne said was a bit unbelievable, but I have to admit that it is indeed possible.