Chapter 3 Empty House Suspicion (Part 2)

He walked to his car in a trance, the door was still open, and he couldn't help thinking that only a few minutes ago, a storm had torn out his life path, and now even he himself would be destroyed by this The storm ruined it. He had another layer of anxiety about what to say to his wife, Martha, if he got into trouble or lost his job. Quillian got into the car, and carefully put the piece of paper into the notepad, he thought it should be pressed more neatly.At this moment, he suddenly had another thought. He didn't understand what he did, so he tore off a piece of paper from the notepad, and bit by bit with his hands, he tore out another paper pattern, which was about the same shape and size as the original one, only a little longer. Also a little narrower.He can only get Beryl out of the murder entanglement by using this fake paper to give to Walworth.

He started the car and drove straight to the county office building. In the district attorney's office, a group of local celebrities gathered.At the other end of the table was Lyons, the publisher of the News, who was drafting a headline for a message.Quillian was nearby and saw him write: Sheriff is incompetent, killer is getting away with it - criminology experts say Rush Medford stood behind Walworth, smiling and nodding in approval.It seemed that he appreciated not only what the experts in criminology had said, but also what they had not yet said. john.Farham sat upright to the right of the expert, and he gazed into the expert's face with admiration.Quillian thought to himself that this Farham had never expressed such complete convincing to that person or that matter.This man sold a horse to Beckett a few months ago. It was said that the horse was only 12 years old, but Quillian thought there was at least...

"George, have you brought the paper pattern?" Madford asked. Quillian opened the notepad, and only he could detect it. When he handed the paper pattern to Walworth, his hand trembled slightly. "Is this one?" said Walworth, and Quillian saw, as the eyes were turned to the expert; his air was needlessly majestic. Quillen nodded. Walworth looked at the little piece of paper over and over again, and said to Lyons: "Well, look, that's an example, I didn't say; what absurdity, how stupid they are! Tell me, what kind of evidence is this, there's no mark on the paper, nothing! The sheriff and the assistant sheriff At that time, you should have signed your name on this, so as not to make mistakes, otherwise, what if you change one? It has been replaced, hasn't it!

Woolworths also squinted at Quillian, handed him a pen and said, "Sign your name on this piece of paper, and it will be recognized in court—this is the evidence you provided." Quilian leaned over the table and signed his name with slightly trembling hands. "I now declare," said Walters, "that we are going to distribute copies of this paper to all the gas stations and auto repair shops in the county. Mr. Medford, please keep this paper and don't let anyone Touch it." Quilian said, "Is there anything else? If not, I'll go first." The News came out at 5 p.m., and everyone was talking about the case. The headline on the headline read——

The District Attorney invited a criminologist to lead the investigation Quillian read the paper in his office.He found out that Lyons rewrote the original title after interviewing the expert Wall Woojin, and now the subtitle reads as follows: Experts say: The investigation method is outdated, the murderer took the opportunity to slip away On the left side of the page, there is also a paper photo that Quillian handed to Walworth. The caption on the photo is "Is this the tire of the murderer's car?" The official asks readers to help find the car with the broken right front tire.

Quillian read the sermon, which, in its harsh tone, did not do justice to the whole incident.It made him feel even more uneasy. Bill Ayrton pushed the door open. "Hello. George, any news?" "Have you read the newspaper?" The sheriff nodded and said, "It looks like we're in a bad place, don't we?" "That's right." "Have you seen Walworth?" "Yes, I saw him." "how is he?" "It seems to be quite capable!" Quilian replied. "Are you friendly?" Quilian didn't say a word, his eyes were on the ground.

The sheriff smiled. "I mean how's the attitude towards you?" Suddenly Quillian looked up at the sheriff, "Bill, I have something to tell you." "Well, we'll talk about it later, we're busy," said the sheriff. "Even what is related to this case is also related to me personally." "If it's something personal to you, we'll talk about it later. Listen," the Inspector interrupted Quillian before he could finish. "I've got some more clues. The girl's name is Elizabeth. She lives here." In Saint Rodolphe, her mother's name was Elvira, have you ever heard of that name, George?"

Quillen shook his head. "I'm a bit impressed," said the sheriff. "There aren't many people named Sai. We'll have to go back to the office and check the old papers. You'll check the Morning Chronicle for George, and I'll check the News and we might find something about it." The clues of her mother and daughter. Remember to check the 'Personal Newsletter' column." "How long will it take to find out like that!" Quilian objected. "Probably not more than two or three hours," said the sheriff. "Two or three hours!" cried Quillian. "You, we should do something. Serious business. You know, the prosecutor has some criminologist, and the Gazette uses such nasty words." Speaking of you, you still have two or three hours to check the newspaper!"

While they were talking, the door was pushed open.Rush Medford stepped into the office, followed by Martin Woolworth. "Sheriff," said the District Attorney, "Come and meet Mr. Martin Walworth." Then he said gruffly, "We've been looking for you all afternoon." "I've been out of town for a while," said the sheriff, extending his hand to the criminologist. "Ah, welcome, hello!" Walworth held out his hand and shook it slightly. The Prosecutor began solemnly: "Sheriff, the murder at Hibe Grange is a serious and vicious case, and the electorate cannot stand, hey, to let criminals go unpunished by old-fashioned, thoughtless ways. Therefore, At the request of many eminent persons in the County; the Prosecutor has called upon Mr. Martin Walworth—a well-known criminologist."

The sheriff said happily, "Okay, but what do criminologists do?" Medford's face flushed, "He specializes in homicide, and he will teach you how the police should catch criminals!" "Oh, that would be very nice! Rush, I'm always open to advice or advice—maybe Mr. Walworth has something to offer us?" "No, he's working with me!" McDerford said seriously. "He's presiding over this case." "Well," said Walworth, "I'd say I'm almost on the verge of cracking the case." "Really!" cried the Sheriff, enthusiastically: "Then please sit down, man, why are you standing?"

Ignoring the sheriff's kindness, the criminologist said, "I don't think you've ever thought of finding out who owned that cigarette case?" "Oh, well, I don't understand..." "I can tell you," interrupted Walworth, "the local jewelry store didn't sell these cigarette cases--it only took me a few minutes to find out. So, I talked to the police in Los Angeles. Bureau, asking them to investigate local jewelry The store, sure enough, within two hours, they came to report. " "Hey, you're so thoughtful!" The sheriff admired the expert's decisive measures, "What did you find?" "The cigarette case was sold to a young woman of about nineteen, tall, with black hair, dark eyes, a pleasant voice, weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds, and wearing a pale red diamond ring on her left hand. " Quillian coughed suddenly. "What else?" asked the sheriff with interest. Woolworths went on to say: "We also found that car, the car that left tire marks at the scene. After you evacuated the scene without leaving the guards, this mysterious car came to Greece. Bee Grange. We've got the number of this little car, and we're going to get the owner's name shortly. The report will be here shortly." "How did you find out the car number?" Quilian asked in a low voice, his throat felt dry. Medford said triumphantly: "Only 20 minutes after today's "News" was published, we received a call from a gas station manager who said that a car had been filling up at his place. He accidentally saw The right front tire of this car was broken, and the driver of the overturned car was a black-haired girl who was not in her twenties. He asked her if she wanted to repair the tire, but the girl refused, so he wrote down the car number Come down, prepare to spend a few days on this business..." Then the phone rang harshly.Walworth grabbed the receiver, listened quietly for a while, and said, "Isn't there a mistake? Then please spell her name." After listening for a while, he put down the receiver and turned to everyone: "Does anyone know Belle's name?" This woman, R. M. Quillian, drives a Woonett sedan, number 1792?" He raised his voice, and his hard-voiced eyes stared at George Quillian with a provocative expression. The air seemed to freeze.Walworth's voice pounded in the hearts of the Sheriff and the Sheriff's Assistant. Martin Walworth still stared at Quillian, "Is she a member of your family?" Rush Medford said coldly: "It's his daughter!" Walworth asked more and more sharply: "May I ask if this Beryl Quillian is about nineteen years old, tall, with black hair and dark eyes?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued: "In that case Gentlemen, the case is basically settled, and we have also solved the mystery of the letter B at the arrow end on the silver cigarette case." "I now formally declare," Rush Madfort stood up, "from now on, the District Attorney officially takes over the investigation of this case." He walked to the door, opened it for the criminologist, and the two The man walked out in a high spirited manner. Only Bill Elton and George Quillian were left in the office. "Ah!" Quillian said, "my mission here is over, and I've got you in trouble, Bill, I..." He paused.He was so sad that he could not speak. The sheriff calmly picked up the phone, and Quillian heard him say in a kind voice, "Hello, is this Beryl? Where is your car? Quick, drive your car to Steinwater immediately." Go to the camping ground, rent a room, register with your name and your car number, and then look around, you will see an acquaintance, your father and I will be here soon, you set off immediately, the sooner the better." "It can't be done, Bill," said Quillen hastily. "It's against the law. The prosecutors are going to find her and they can't tell her to leave. " The sheriff said: "I want to ask her something. Come on, George. The facts will be cleared up soon. I have told Roy Jasper to meet us at the campsite, and I want to know something from him too. Condition." "But that's not right." The sheriff put his hand on the assistant's shoulder, and he said sympathetically, "Don't worry, George, don't blame Beryl, it's me. Oh, God! I shouldn't have let her get involved." "What, don't you know..." "Yes, I know that cigarette case," said the sheriff. "As soon as I saw it, I recognized it was the one Beryl gave Roy." "How do you know that?" "You have a photo of Roy at home. He is wearing a military uniform, holding the cigarette case in his hand, and you can still see the pattern of hearts and arrows on it, with the letter R on the end of the arrow." "Oh," said Quillian, "I remember it too! You have a good memory!" "I usually like to pay attention to some little things," said the sheriff with a smile. Stupid work. I think to be a competent detective; you have to study people, get to know people, and understand the relationship between people, which is more useful than any scientific method. For example, it is impossible for Beryl to find out Go into the murder case, you know that too." "But she's involved now," Quillian said sadly. Bill Elton shook his head. "I recognized the cigarette case," he said, "and called Beryl and said I wanted you. I could have found you myself. I told her I found one of those cigarettes at Shebe's house." box, and then I went back to Hibe Grange, and sat back and watched, and I figured I'd try and see what would happen." "What do you think?" "I want to see if Beryl knows the exact location of the cigarette case. Because I only said that the cigarette case was at Shebby's house, and I told her about the patterns on it, but I didn't tell her where the cigarette case was. In a room." "How is she?" Quillen asked. "As I expected, she did come, and she drove the car all the way to the house. She spent a long time in the house, looking around for the cigarette case, and finally found it. I thought she would She took the cigarette case away, but she is ignorant after all, she just wiped off the fingerprints on the box." "She has no right to do that!" Quillian said. "That's right," said the Sheriff with great interest, "that I wanted to see what she did. I had to establish if Beryl had been in the house earlier. Her actions negated that because she entered the house." Looked around the back of the house for this cigarette case. If she had gone straight to the kitchen to get it, I could have drawn a different conclusion." Quilian listened silently. He heard all these things from other parties. He needed to figure out a clue. He asked, "So you know that car belongs to her?" "of course I know." "Since you know it's Beryl's, why do you still ask me to copy the pattern?" "Ouch. George!" said the Sheriff. "I'd like to see how you do it. Didn't I tell you to keep it, I thought maybe—" "But I almost fell for it!" Quillian complained and interrupted him, "I saved up another one and wanted to give it to Walworth. Fortunately, I didn't dare to use it later, so I still kept the original one. Leave it to them." "I know that." The sheriff said apologetically, "Let's go, hurry up. Go to the wild seedlings and have a look. Wait a minute. I'll call home." Sheriff Gui made a phone call, and when he heard Doris' voice, he immediately frowned, "Hello, Doris," he said, "Is Myrna home? Oh, I know, tell her later and ask her to look up the 'personal newsletter' in the newspaper for me from six months ago. Let's see if there is any news about a woman named Elvira Sai, I..." He is interrupted by Doris' soprano.Suddenly, the impatient expression on his face was gone, and he smiled happily, "That's right, Doris!" He listened attentively for a few minutes before he could say, "It's good luck to have you at home ,Thank you, good bye!" He smiled and said to Quillian, "Good news! It was my sister-in-law just now. She was an inquisitor, she was in charge of thousands of households, and she could remember everyone! She happened to be the day Marvin Shebby died last year." She was also a guest at my house. She said just now that Elvira Sai was a nurse who nursed Hebe during the last days of his illness. She worked in Hebe's house for about ten days and stayed until his death. " "That girl is..." "It's Elvira's daughter. If that's the case, then the footprints in Hebby's house are probably someone searching for something there. Yes, we may be about to find the right answer." The phone rang again, the sheriff answered, and a man yelled through the receiver.The sheriff only snorted, "So what?", and cut off the phone. "It's Rush Madford," the sheriff said. "He's at your house and your wife told him Beryl got a call and was driving a few minutes ago." "Cough, that's too bad!" Quillian said, "He must suspect that it was me who called." Ayrton smiled to himself, "Come on man, we have to move faster." Several people sat around a room at the Steinwater campsite, talking in low tones. "Okay, Roy," said the sheriff, "let's go." Roy Jasper sat in a chair and moved awkwardly. "I don't want Beryl to know about it," he said. "I'm so stupid that I don't make sense—I mean, I don't know how to explain it to her..." "Speak!" said the sheriff. "The week before," said Roy, "I was on a business trip to Saint-Rodolphe, and I ate in a restaurant, and... oh, that girl worked in that restaurant, and she was pretty nice and popular. I chatted with her, and I said I was from Rockvenley, and she asked me if I knew about Marvin Shebee, and I said he was dead. Then she asked about Hebe Grange. Then she talked to I say something about Shebby. "Her mother was his personal nurse during the last days of Hebe's illness. Later, when her mother died in Colorado, she told Elizabeth that it was the girl that Hebe had said to her No brains. He said to her: "You do a few things as I say, and the guy will give you money. A lot of money. If you force him to give you money, as long as I ask, he has to give you money." ’ That’s all he said, vague and unfinished. On the day before Hebby’s death, she found that he seemed to have something to say, but there were still a few relatives of him in the room at that time, and these people They all wished that the old man would ascend to heaven sooner, they were anxious and plotting against each other. "Shibby was having a hard time talking by then, but finally he managed to get it out: 'Remember, I said, you gotta do...a couple of things...' She nodded in agreement, and just then, his Sister Caroline walked to the bed, only to hear Hippie go on to say: "The joke is behind the clown." "Carrotan hurriedly said: 'What are you talking about? Who is the clown?' But the old man lowered his eyes and didn't answer. Only the nurse knew in his heart that this was for her, but she didn't understand what sending a sentence was. Meaning. The next morning, Shebby died quietly, and of course, the family no longer needed a nurse, and she was sent away from the decaying house. "Elizabeth has been thinking about these words of her mother when she was dying. She asked me to accompany her to Heby Grange to see if there was anything to be found there. She also asked me to keep her secret. She said she used The car brought me up so I could see my girlfriend. She knew I was all about seeing Beryl, and her pride seemed a little bit hurt, so I couldn't bear to say no to her - you should believe it .” Beryl nodded silently. "Yesterday morning, I went to see her at the St. Rodolphe's Hotel. We had a brief conversation, bought some refreshments, and took her little car to Old Hebby's house. The Grange was full of desolation and desolation. We opened the side door and went in. , walk around and see, all the rooms have been visited." "Have you found anything?" asked the sheriff. Roy said: "Nothing was found at the time, but now it seems...well, I can't say..." The sheriff raised his eyebrows and waited. "Later," Roy said, "we sat down to have lunch, and smoked a cigarette after dinner. Suddenly, we heard the sound of a car outside, and someone entered the house. We got up and ran to the window to hide. The people who came in walked into other rooms, and we ran out of the house and left in the car." "Did you see who came in?" "Yes, it was Sam Beckett and John Farham, but they didn't see us. Farham had been urging Sam Beckett to buy the estate, and he went on and on. Later, Elizabeth Drove back to St. Rodolfo and I stayed there until dark and hung up long distance to Beryl. I didn't want to tell her I was in St. Rodolfo, I said I was calling her from Fort Bickerin. Then I stopped a long-distance bus and came back here. "However, I guess Elizabeth may have seen something in the Hebe Grange, but she didn't want to tell me. Maybe she went back to the Hebe Grange when I was still in St. Rodolphe. I can't take that." At that time, I was only anxious to find a car and come back to see Beryl, and I didn't care about Elizabeth any more." "And that's where you left the cigarette pack?" Beryl said. "Yes, sorry." "But the next day when you came to my house, how did I see there was another one?" Roy said: "I think it's bad, Beryl, really, I don't want you to know I lost the cigarette case. I got another one out - also silver, but not engraved on it." , I didn't let you see the bottom of it, so you ignored the pattern without hearts and arrows. Because I was afraid that if I let you know about Elizabeth, you would misunderstand." "Why do you think like that, Roy, you should never think like that." "I know you're not that kind of person," he said, "but I was worried." While they were talking, a car came rushing up and stopped outside with a creak. There were excited shouts, footsteps and hurried door calls outside the door. In a blink of an eye, the district attorney appeared at the door. "Do you know what you're doing, Ayrton, you want them to get away?" he said angrily. The sheriff raised his eyelids, "Nothing, we are investigating and collecting evidence" "I have issued a warrant for the arrest of Roy Jasper, who murdered Elizabeth Say, and her, Beryl, who attempted to destroy evidence." "What evidence do you have?" asked the sheriff. "There is good evidence. We'll check his fingerprints in a moment. Beryl Quillian thought she destroyed all the fingerprints, but she was wrong. She ignored the inside of the cigarette case. Our Mr. Walworth This point will not be overlooked. Well, we have extracted very clear fingerprints from the inside of the cigarette pack. As the county's prosecutor, I now formally order you, Mr. Sheriff, to arrest these two people immediately!" They drove back to the District Attorney's Office, where Walworth ordered Roy to press his fingerprints, and he couldn't hide his nervousness when he compared them with the fingerprints on the cigarette pack. But he finally showed a relieved smile, nodded to the prosecutor and said: "Gentlemen, congratulate us all, he is the murderer!" The night was cold and quiet, with bright stars twinkling in the sky, only the roar of Sam Beckett's tractor over the silent fields, and the beams of its headlights flickering around the Hebe house.Plowing cannot stop, despite the murders that have occurred here. Sergeant Elton parked the police car outside the shed.He said to George Quillian, "Let's go in. Don't drive the car into the plow, George." They entered the house, and George said gloomily, "Is there anything we're missing?" "Yes," said the sheriff briskly, "there must be a lot of omissions. It is impossible for the mind to grasp everything that needs to be understood at once. I'm afraid we haven't grasped the key point. The words of Shebby: 'The joke is behind the clown' is certainly not a joke." "What do you mean?" Quillian frowned. "It's hard to say, maybe," the sheriff mused, "clowns—they're kings and queens' pets, short people with bells on their bodies, and putting on all sorts of funny looks to please their master..." "What does it matter?" "I seem to remember that there is a wall picture in this room. It is a picture of a palace compound, many people are amused around, and a dwarf is in the middle, dancing and dancing. Could it be the clown that old Hebby is referring to..." "That's right," said George hopefully. "My God, I hope you're right." The sheriff said, "It's all about success, George, we're running out of time." They entered the house, and the sheriff led the way to the spacious vestibule. He used his flashlight to illuminate a court painting on the wall. In front of the palace hall, there was a dwarf in colorful flowered clothes, with a bell pin on his hat dust, With an exaggerated smile on his face, he walked in a pretentious dance step. The sheriff took off the drawing and put it on the table, took out a knife and carefully pried off the thin plate behind the mirror frame, and suddenly he let out a soft "shh".The color on the back of the drawing has turned yellow due to age, but in the middle there is a white spot about two inches long and eight inches wide, where another piece of paper must have been hidden. "Ah!" Kuilian yelled, "It's gone, who took it away!" Bill Elton hung the drawing back on the wall. "George," he said, "the basis for solving the case is very complicated. It is put together from many fragments of clues, but there are many important clues that are often overlooked. For example, the girl, her face It is very clear that she was stabbed to death on the ground face down, but have you ever noticed that there is something special about her?" "what?" "Where's the bag?" "Yes, she doesn't have a small bag?!" "That may not matter," continued the Inspector. "Suppose she was frightened and escaped, and she might have lost her little bag as she ran, or it might have been left in the house. But there isn't any in the house!" "Go on," said George Quillian impatiently. "This lady is a very scheming girl," said the Inspector. "She asked Roy Jass to come here with her, but pretended she hadn't found anything, and went back to St. Rodolphe. Soon afterwards, she alone The people came back here again, probably late in the evening, and she parked the car a little further up the road and walked into the house while Sam Beckett drove the tractor to plow the fields. "So the girl couldn't come out. Because it was still daylight, she was afraid that Sam Beckett would stop her and ask her what she was doing. So she had to stay in the house and wait for dark. "She was alone in the room, and the room was very quiet. Suddenly, she realized that there was another person in the room. He was hiding in the dark and peeping. She might have guessed that this person came for the same purpose. The girl was frightened, She took her handbag and ran away quickly. That person is chasing after him..." "Well, Bill," sighed Quillian, "you can make up such a story with just a few indications, but unfortunately, who knows if your story will be true!" "But I think that's actually the case," said the sheriff. "If the girl came after Sam, she'd have left footprints in the plowed field, but you couldn't see any. That's enough to prove that whether the girl Or whoever killed her later came in before Sam plowed." "Well, assuming you're right, Bill, where did she go then?" "Of course she ran towards a place where there were people. She wanted to be protected." "Sam Beckett?!" Quillian called. "Yes, she originally wanted to avoid Sam, but her life is at stake now, and she needs protection. Of course, she can only run towards the tractor." Quillian thought for a while, then shook his head again, "It's still wrong, Bill, what about the murderer, how did he escape later, did he leave no trace?" "He left a mark, George." "Not really, Bill!" "Fool," said the Inspector, "there must be, but no one has seen his traces. Come, George, we can go." The lights were on in the D.A.'s office, and Edward Leonscu took the seat by the telephone so he could send messages back to the agency quickly.John Farham sat next to him and seemed in a good mood.Martin Walworth sat behind his desk, staring coldly at Jasper and Beryl. As the sheriff and his assistant entered the room, Rush Medford lifted his eyelids to glance.He is losing his temper, full of dark clouds.It has been more than an hour to interrogate Roy and Beryl, but the answers I got are still the same as before, neither adding nor subtracting. Medford asked impatiently: "Ah Gui is here for you, Sheriff?" "Oh, something," said the Inspector. "I've come to ask Mr. Woolworths something. I read in a journal that you wrote a scientific paper on hair. I remember that The article says that you can tell from a single hair what kind of animal or human hair it is, and you can even tell its or his age, etc. from that. Is that true?" "Of course!" said Walworth, with contempt. "Oh, God!" said the Sheriff, "so you can help me in solving the murder at Shebe Grange." "I was specially hired by Mr. Prosecutor to solve this murder case!" "Well, well," said the Inspector conciliatively, "let's forget about that." "Then you have to do yours and I'll do mine." "Yes, yes. Well, I would like to ask you how you deal with this problem. For example: the murderer escaped from the farm after killing, but he left no traces. What do you think of this? He It was in the middle of that field, surrounded by wet and soft soil, how did you say he escaped?" The sheriff looked up at him expectantly, but Walworth said nothing. "Then," said the Inspector, "is it conceivable that the girl has obtained, say, a document, which is closely related to a certain person. Therefore, this person is also doing everything possible to obtain the document?" , he hid aside to watch, and was discovered by the girl, she ran out, he chased after him, and he had already considered how to escape from the scene after committing the crime..." Walworth glared at the sheriff as if he was facing a madman. "What are you talking about!" "A horse!" the sheriff went on. "The girl ran out of the house, and the murderer chased after him on his horse. When she ran to the edge of the plow, he was on her side. She wanted to turn around and run into the plow." , but was caught by him." "Joke, all that. The tractor man neither saw nor heard?" asked Woolworths. "I don't think you've ever plowed at night with a tractor." The sheriff smiled and said, "The motor is very loud at this time, and you have to keep an eye on the furrow in front of you. Of course, you can't see anything. can not hear." "Really? Let's go on." Walworth also sneered. The sheriff went on to say: "The murderer grabbed the girl and jumped off the horse. The girl was exhausted after running for a while, and she couldn't run anymore. The murderer killed her and took her small bag. This small bag It was exactly what he wanted to grab. And that horse was a trained tame horse, knowing that when the master jumped off the horse's head temporarily, it should stand still. "The murderer jumped back on his horse, and ran aimlessly round the plow--this was done so that no one could tell from the trail of the horse's hooves that the horse was being harnessed. When the horse came close to the fence, he jumped out of the fence, Keep the horses in. Think about it, everyone is looking for human footprints, but no one is looking for horse footprints in the plow.” It was quiet in the office, and everyone in Ren Zheshan listened to his narration silently. "I therefore think," said the Inspector, "that if you examine the murderer's trousers, you will find horse hair on them. And, you will find, that it is the hair of a very old brown horse. The horse turned out to be John Farham's, sold to Tom Beckett a few months ago." Walworth looked at the sheriff blankly. "I don't understand what you're talking about," he muttered. "Besides," the sheriff went on, "the murderer must be a skilled rider, not only that, but he and it, that is to say, the murderer and the horse must be familiar old turrets." John Farham sprang up from his chair, he.Yelled, "You're talking nonsense!" "I thought we'd better show us your trousers," said the Inspector calmly. "You're a madman!" Farham scolded. "You said you want to check my pants, so please! Come on!" "No, not this pair of trousers," said the Inspector. "You have changed them since you got home. You should have taken that pair to the laundry, but your wife has gone away, as I read in the papers." Yes, so the trousers may still be at home, too. You should take it for granted that in a small town like ours it pays to read the local paper regularly. Besides..." Farham suddenly rushed forward frantically, Bill Ayrton flashed, his left hand held Farham's punching fist, and he swung his right hand hard, hitting Farham on the forehead. "Oh? That's enough!" said the sheriff, taking off the handcuffs from his belt. Martin Walworth announced to the crowd in John Farham's lobby: "I found quite a few brown horse hairs on top of these trousers," he said solemnly. "There is no doubt that the horse was not saddled. Between five and twenty years old, its exact age can only be found out after I do some tests." "Well," said the Inspector, "he lied to Sam Cobbett that he was only twelve." “裤子上面还发现有人的血迹，”沃尔五斯继续说：“化验后就可以知道那是不是伊丽莎白·赛的血。” “你真行！”警长笑了，接着他不紧不慢地说：“我们还应该搜查一下，说不定我们会找到那个姑娘的小提包。” 他点滴不漏地进行搜查，从后院开始，然后是卧室，起居室，厨房……终于从一个食品橱的背后搜出一个姑娘家用的很精致的小提包。提包里有一些对折的纸，纸上印有两张相片、十个指印，还有一段文字说明，相片上的人就是约翰·法哈姆——无疑的，这是一份有关约翰·法哈姆的调查材料。 " 警长很高兴。 “瞧，老希比实在厉害，”他说：“约翰·法哈姆来到我们这个地方，便给这里的党派争斗火上加油，把政界搅得乱哄哄的，而且老是找人打官司。我们都只当他是个无赖，而老希比却认真请了侦探去调查他的来历。这些指印大概是从法哈姆留在窗玻璃上的指纹提取下来的。 “更重要的是他发现了一个秘密。这上面说，约翰·法哈拇原来是衣阿华州警方的通缉犯。他在当地某公司任职时贪污了一笔巨款，后来便失踪了。 “不会错的，法哈姆主动撤去他和希比在学校建筑工程上的诉讼，是由于希比掌握了他的这些把柄。可以想像，希比的死对法哈姆来说，是多么值得庆幸。他一-定在希比住宅里多次搜寻过这份材料，但是没有找到。当时他大概认为可以高枕无忧了，可是后来他发现有个女子也在寻找这份材料，就这样，他杀死了伊丽莎白·赛。” 检察官向他伸出手说：“这份材料交给我吧，警长。” “嘿，是这样。”警长说：“依我看我依然还是本县的警长。我找到了这份材料，要是你不介意，伙计，警察机关将对这起凶杀案负责到底。” 全场哑然，没有人吭声。 警长拿起小提包和那份调查报告对沃尔伍斯：“你确实教给我不少东西。你说得不错，任何证据翻应该做个标记，以免被人掉包。先生你既然是本县请来协助办理此案的专家，本县的纳税人也将付给你一定的酬金，我很荣幸请你在这上头签个宇，这样，这份材料便是货真价实的一件证据了。一一十分感谢，先生。” 比尔·艾尔顿坐在他那张坐惯的、舒适的大躺椅上，看起来有点疲倦。 “你今天这么早回来？”妻子说。 “是的，事情办好了。” “你是说那件谋杀案吧？”多丽丝问。 "yes." 多丽丝眼睛发亮，很感兴趣地说：“你是说案子破了？” "yes." "Who is the murderer?" “约翰·法哈姆。” “"约翰·法哈姆！ ”多丽丝几乎是尖叫起来，“你怎么知道是他干的呢？ " “只能是他。” "Based on what?" “不根据什么，”警长说：“只凭直觉。” “直觉是什么，比尔？你是太累了，是吗？”妻子说。 “不，”警长说：“不累。你想想看，伊丽莎白·赛是在她进大老希比的住宅，并找到一份马文·希比收藏的秘密材料之后被人杀害的。那么，这就产生一个问题：'是谁最可能知道她到希比的住宅里去的？'当然，罗伊·贾斯帕知道，可是罗伊·贾斯帕并没有把此事告诉别的人。那么除罗伊之外，只有山姆·贝克特和约翰·法哈姆两人了。当他们驱车来到希比田庄看地的时懊，伊丽莎白的小车正停在屋外。山姆·贝克特当然只对那片土地感兴趣，不会留意那辆小车，可是做为房地产经纪人的约翰·法哈姆自然对这辆车感兴趣。就凭这个，我很快就猜到，后来发生的是怎么回事了。” “我听不明白。”妻子说。 “很清楚。”警长说：“做为房地产经纪人，当他看见一座待管的房屋外边停有一辆小车，他自然要把小车的号码抄下来的。这是因为他想知道，还有谁对购买这座房屋有兴趣。这是一种职业习惯，不管哪一个房产经纪人都会这样做。 “约翰·法哈姆从这辆小车的车号查到伊丽莎白·赛的名字，他稍作思索，便会联想到希比的私人护士爱尔维拉·赛。于是，他与贝克特谈妥买卖之后，便驱车去圣罗多弗查访伊丽莎白，在途中，他碰上了伊丽莎白正往回走。但是，不幸的是，伊丽莎白却不认识法哈姆。 “法哈姆跟踪伊丽莎白的小车重返希比田庄，后来又跟踪她进入住宅，并看着她找到那份致命的材料。最终，他从厨房里抓到一把尖刀……嘿，就是这样，不费什么事，我料到法哈姆一定会把车号抄下来的。” “噢，你就是凭这一条破获了这起案子的？”多丽丝摇头说。 "Almost." “哼！”多丽丝轻蔑地说：“光凭这一条。纳税人就该给你那末高的薪金！可是这算什么呢，谁不知道做房产买卖的人是要把汽车号码记下来的！” 警长笑着说：“那位著名的犯罪学家便不知道这一条，或者说，就算是他知道，但他又没有依据这一条认真去动脑筋，只有等我告诉他以后，他才什么都知道。”