Chapter 9 Chapter nine

"I don't want to show up in Shaka just yet," Grant said as they drove out of Wickham. "Any other way to shore?" "Normally, there's only one road. It's a country road, about a mile from Sarka to where they camp. We can take the Wickham-Clon road across the fields and get there quicker. Or You can go back and take the other way to Petha, get off the car and walk across the embankment, and walk about a quarter of a mile to where they stopped." "I think I'll just take the main road across the fields so I can see for myself what the path looks like. What's Petha like?"

"Just a village, nothing. Just a dilapidated mill and a few former workers' cottages. That's why Whitemore and Seale walk to Shaka for a drink. " "I understand." The experienced Rogers took out a one-inch survey map from the car at this time and began to look at it.The fields before them looked, to Grant's city eyes, as they had seen them when they had just left Wickham.But the local inspector said: "I think they should be on the opposite side. Yes, we are here now, and they are there." He showed Grant this sketch. The road from Wickham to Clone runs from north to south, with the Roshmere River on the west, blocked by the valley, and the road connecting Wickham to the northeast.They were now in the place where Whitemore and Searle had pitched their tents just where the river made a wide bend, just where it began to turn.Farther down the valley, where the river bends back, is the town of Sacca St. Mary.Both their camp and the town of Shaka were on the right bank of the river, so a delta was formed between them.

When the three of them crossed the third field ridge, the surrounding pastoral scenery suddenly opened up, and the entire Roshmere Valley area spread before their eyes, just as clearly as marked on Rogers' map.The Roshmere River in the distance is like a dark green scarf wrapped around the green field in front of you. On the other side are clusters of huts and farms, which is the town of Shaka St. Mary in the shadows.The small town further south is Petha District. "Where's the railroad around here?" Grant asked. "The nearest railway is at Wickham, which means there is no railway station near here.

The railway crosses the other side of the road from Wickham to Clonn, without passing the village at all. ""Are there many buses on this route?" "Oh, yes. You don't suspect that the guy got on the bus, do you?" "I just don't let go of any possibility. After all, we don't know anything about this guy. I have to admit that anything is possible." Rogers led them up the long slope to the bank, and where the river turned to the southwest two large trees stood between the rows of cut-topped willows on the bank, a tall willow and a Big dead wood.Two canoes were moored under the dead wood, and traces of being trampled on could still be seen on the grass next to it.

"Here it is," Rogers said. "Mr. Whitemore's sleeping bag is under the big willow tree, and Searle is sleeping on the other side of the dead wood. There is a big hole in the root of the dead wood blocking him. This is probably White. Moore found no reason for Searle's absence." Grant walked over to the side of the Sears sleeping bag, and looked at the water: "How's the current going? What if his foot got caught in the roots of these trees and he fell headlong into the river?" " "I admit that the Roshmere is a terrible river, with potholes on the banks, undercurrents everywhere, and a lot of mud at the bottom. But Searle can swim, or so Whitemore said. .”

"Is he conscious?" "Very sober." "Then assuming he fell into the river unconscious, where would you go to retrieve his body?" "From here to Shaka Town. It depends on the actual rainfall. It's been raining very little lately so you can see the water is low.But they say there was a thunderstorm on Townsdale's side on Tuesday, so that the Roschmere still looks like a current. "I see, where are those tents now?" "Whitemore brought them back to Trinian Park." "I think all the things Syl brought with him should still be in Cuining Manor."

"hope so." "I think I'll take a look at those things tonight. If there is anything interesting in it, it may have disappeared before then. But we can find some clues in it. Residents of Syl and Shaka Town Have you had any special contacts?" "Well, I heard that a dancing chap had a full glass of beer poured on him one night a few nights ago." "Why?" Grant asked.He had no trouble at all identifying the "dancing guy" he said, because Marta was Shaka's most loyal announcer. "He was angry that Searle didn't take Toby Tulis's attentions seriously, they said."

"Is that really Syl?" "No, if everything is true," Rogers said.His anxious face relaxed, revealing a momentary expression of pleasure. "So tulis shouldn't like him very much?" "maybe." "I think you probably don't have time to collect too complete clues." "That's right, in fact, we didn't realize that this might not be an ordinary disappearance case until early yesterday evening. Before that, we only did routine salvage and search. When we realized that things seemed to be not so simple, we immediately I will seek help from the outside world and invite you here."

"I'm glad you called for help quickly, it's very helpful in a case where the evidence has been destroyed. Well, I don't think we can do anything here either. Now we'd better go back to Wickham, and I'll take the case. " Rogers drove them back to the White Hart Hotel, reassuring them repeatedly before leaving that he would do his best to help if there were any problems. "What a nice guy," Grant said as they climbed to the top floor of the hotel room.It was a room with wool blankets and flower-patterned wallpaper. "He should be at Scotland Yard."

"Could this be a gay case?" Williams asked.He chose the smaller of the two rooms. "It's a real English prairie mystery. What do you think happened to him, sir?" "I don't know what a 'Prairie Mystery' is, but it feels like a clever case. One moment you seem to know what's going on, the next moment you don't. An old magic trick. Have you ever seen a woman sawn in half, Williams?" "Several times." "Don't you think you can smell the breath of a sawed woman in it?" "I don't have as good a nose as you do, and what I can smell is a very queer case. One spring night in England, a young American disappeared from his village a mile from the river. Do you really think Did he fall into the river and drown, sir?"

"I can't deduce any reason why he would disappear for no apparent reason, but perhaps Whitemore could." "I think he's going to be very nervous and desperate," Williams said sarcastically. But it is strange to say that Whitemore is not at all troubled by the ins and outs of this matter.On the contrary, he seemed a little unimpressed by it.He said the incident was so absurd that he felt that Searle must have gone with his own whims.That would be far from the truth: Searle is happy, he has an optimistic, profitable business in front of him, and he is so enthusiastically invested in the book they have collaborated on, it is hard to believe. I believe he just left on a whim. After dinner, Grant came to Cuining Manor.He cleverly thought that the Friday dinner at Trinity Manor on Walter's radio day must be very late, so he sent a message in advance asking Walter if it would be convenient to meet him. Until they talk face to face. His first impression of Walter Whitemore was older than he had imagined; he wondered if he looked older than Wednesday.Grant thought, he looked lost and helpless.Something must have happened to him, and it wasn't part of his world as he understood it. Yet when Grant identified him, he was unflappable. "I've been waiting for you for a long time," he took out his cigarette, "Of course I'm not necessarily talking about you, but the representative appointed by the superior unit." Grant asked him about their whole trip down the Roschmere River, trying to get him to talk; you just let a man talk and he gradually lost his defensiveness.Whitemore smoked hard, but spoke with considerable ease.Before he could tell of their visit to the Swan on Wednesday, Grant turned him off. It is too early to ask what happened that night. "You don't know much about Seale, do you?" he pointed out. "Have you heard of this guy before that party at Roth's?" "No. But it's not surprising. Photographers are everywhere, just like journalists. There is no reason to have heard of him." "Did it not occur to you that he might not be who he told you to be?" "No, of course not. I never heard of the man, but Miss Easton Dickson did." "Miss Easton Dickson?" "One of our local writers, she writes fairy tales and is also a movie buff. Not only does she know who he is, she has a picture of him." "Photo?" Grant said pleasantly. "It was in a movie magazine, I didn't see it, but she said it one time when she came here for dinner." "Did she run into Searle when she came to dinner? Did she check herself?" "Yes, they still have a good chat. Seale has photographed some of her favorite celebrities, and she also has those photos." "So you don't doubt Syl's true identity in your heart." "I noticed you said that in the present tense, Inspector, and that made me happy." Yet his tone sounded more sarcastic than happy. "Have you any opinion on the matter yourself, Mr. Whitemore?" "No, I lack the inquisitive spirit, and I don't have a wizard's wand. This thing is really confusing." Grant thought of Whitemore and then of the mystery. "I think the most plausible explanation," Walter continued, "is that he got lost in the dark, and fell into the river somewhere where no one could hear the cries for help." "Then why do you disagree with that speculation?" Grant asked, echoing Whitemore's tone. "Well, number one, Syl has cat eyes, and I slept with him four nights, so I know. He responds well in the dark.Second, he is very adaptable to the environment.Third, he was wide awake when he left the Swan.Fourth, there is only a very narrow road from Shaka Town to the river bank where we camped.Well, even if he ended up in the river, as everyone thought, he was a great swimmer. " "I have a question, it is said that Wednesday evening you had a little friction with Searle. Is that really the case?" "I think it's a matter of time. said Walter. He slammed his half-smoked cigarette down in the ashtray. "Oh?" When he didn't seem to have anything more to say, Granta guided him with a long voice. "We had a -- a so-called 'squabble,' I suppose. I was a little -- not too happy. But that's it." "He annoyed you so you left him in the bar and walked back by yourself." "I like being by myself." "After you went back, you went to sleep without waiting for him to come back." "Yes. I didn't want to say a word to him that night. I tell you, he made me very unhappy. I thought I should calm myself down, and he usually doesn't irritate me in the morning." "Enraged?" "I think that's the word." "About what?" "I don't have to tell you." "You do not have to tell me, Mr. Whitemore." "No, I really don't want to talk about it. I really wish I could be of help, God knows how much I wish this would come to light. But our fight had nothing to do with it, it didn't happen that day Everything had something to do with it. I really didn't stop him on his way back, or push him into the river, or do anything violent to him." "Then who do you think is likely to do that?" Whitemore hesitated, and quickly thought of the man Sorgey Rodolph. "It shouldn't be that kind of violence." He said after a while. "Which one is it not?" "It won't be the kind of ambush in the middle of the night." "I get it. It's the impulsive kind, just like Soggy Rodolph once did to him. I get it." "For anyone who has been very close to him in their life, it would be a miracle if this did not happen." Walter said. "Do you know anyone here who might be jealous of Seale?" "Not in Shaka Town, but I don't know if he has any friends or enemies in other places." "I'd like to see some of Seale's personal items, do you have any objections?" "I have no objection, but Seale may have. Inspector, what do you expect to find out of it?" "I don't have any special expectations. I think a person's belongings will always reveal something. I just try to find all possible clues, and I only hope to help this confusing case." "Do you have any questions for me? Or I'll take you upstairs right now." "No, thank you, you were a great help. I still hope you can trust me and tell me what happened to your fight that day..." "No fight!" said Whitemore sharply. "Excuse me. I mean in what ways does he annoy you? That would be of the greatest use to me in learning about Searle, not in regards to you. It may be hard for me to get you to understand that, though." Whitemore stood by the door, thinking. "No," he said slowly, "no, I know exactly what you mean. But telling you would involve -- no, I don't think I can tell you. ""I know you can't help it.Let's go upstairs. " When they left the study room where they were talking and entered the magnificent mansion, Elizabeth had just come out of the living room and came to the stairs.When she saw Grant, she stopped, a big smile on her face. "Oh!" she said, "you have brought news of him!" She looked puzzled when Grant said he had no news. "But you brought him to us then," she emphasized, "at that party." This was news to Walter, and Grant felt his surprise, but he also felt his indignation under Elizabeth's wide smile. "Dear Elizabeth, this is—" he said in a cold, tinged tone of malice, "Inspector Grant from Scotland Yard." "Scotland Yard! But—you've been to that party!" "Can't the police be interested in art?" said Grant, laughing pleasantly, "but—" "Oh please! That's not what I meant." "I happened to pick up a friend at a party that time. Searle was standing by the door and couldn't find Miss Fitch, so I took him to find her, that's all." "Then you're here to—investigate—" "Investigate his disappearance. Miss Gallopy, what do you think?" "Me? No. I have no idea. It's unbelievable, unbelievable." "If it's not too late, can I chat with you after seeing Syl's stuff?" "Certainly. It's never too late. It's not even ten o'clock." Her voice sounded very tired, "I've been really overwhelmed since this happened, it's like a - drug! Is there anything in particular you're looking for, Inspector?" "Yes," said Grant, "revelation. But I doubt I'll find it." "I'll go to the study first, you can come down and find me later. I hope you can find something helpful. This situation is really terrible now, as if threatened by an unknown spider. " As he rummaged through Searle's things, he thought about Elizabeth Gallopy—"dear good Elizabeth," as Marta called it—and her relationship with what Williams called "a coward."There was nothing in it of what he called a woman being sawed by a man, and Walter was clearly not only a celebrity, but also a good husband - something he had already told Marta a lot the day he left the party. But how much truth is Marta about Syl's destructive powers? How much does Elizabeth Galloby have a crush on Syl? Later, when I went downstairs to ask Elizabeth what, and to what extent? Searle's personal belongings were placed in the attic room, which was very large and high, with windows on three sides.It's not a very personal space, and Seale didn't post anything personal in it.This place puzzled Grant. He had rarely seen a room that lived for so long without any human breath.There are brushes on the table and books on the bedside table, other than that there is no smell of the owner.This is a room that is almost like a showcase. Apparently the room had been cleaned and tidied six days ago, but it seemed that nothing had changed.The feeling was so strong that Grant paused his search to reflect on the houses he had been to.He thought that even a hotel room could still smell of people who had lived there recently, but there was nothing left here but emptiness.A blank space where Seale keeps only his true self in his heart. As Elizabeth had noticed on the first day, Grant found his clothes and luggage very expensive. When he opened the top drawer and took out the handkerchief inside, he found that there was no laundered mark on it, and he was a little puzzled.Maybe he washed it at home.The shirts and t-shirts were branded, but they were old and looked American. Along with the two suitcases was a tin box, much like a paint box."L. Seale" was written in white letters on the lid, which could be locked but not locked.Grant picked up the box out of curiosity, only then did he realize that it was full of photographic equipment.The pattern inside the box looks like a paint box, and the top plate can be pulled out. He hooked it out with his fingers and checked the bottom of it.Apart from a rectangular void that seemed to be left after something had been taken out, the space below was crammed with stuff.Grant put down the plate in his hand and tried to stuff the sleeping bag from the riverbank into the opening, wondering what was there. But it doesn't seem to work, nothing is suitable. In his bag are two cameras and several rolls of negatives, which also don't fit snugly - either individually or separately.Other than that, there is nothing else in the bag. Grant left the box and stood for a moment thinking.It would have been about ten inches long by three and a half inches high by four inches, and would have been taken while the box was in its present position; if not, any dragging would have messed up the contents of the box. order, and change the existence of that rectangular opening. He planned to ask them later when he went downstairs. Having made a general inspection of the room, he now wanted to take a closer look at some details.Even so, he almost missed an important clue.Just as he was about to close the dirty drawer where the handkerchiefs and ties were kept, something caught his attention between the ties, and he took it out. It was a woman's glove, a little woman's glove. Gloves for a woman the size of Elizabeth Gallopy. He tried to find another glove, but there was none.This is a souvenir between lovers in general. So the handsome young man is fascinated to steal his beloved's glove.It seemed to Grant a very difficult love affair, a very reserved Victorian confession.Today, obsession has developed too many terrible patterns. In this way, this glove proves one thing - Seale didn't intend to leave forever, and one cannot leave one's stolen beloved item in a drawer for an emotionless stranger to find it . Now the question was, whose glove was it? How much was the glove's physical importance? Grant put it in his purse and went downstairs.Elizabeth, as she had said before, was standing in the study waiting for him, but there seemed to be someone beside her.Grant saw the ashtray full of cigarette butts and thought no one would smoke so much anymore, and it must be Walter Whitemore who was discussing the police investigation with her. Elizabeth never forgot that she was the secretary and receptionist of Cuining Manor, and she prepared drinks for him to take on the road.Grant very politely declined, as he was on official business. “I think this might just be the beginning.” She pointed to the Wickham Times (published every Friday) on her desk, with a headline on a discreet section: YOUNG MANS MISSING.The description of Walt above is as follows: a well-known broadcaster in Trinin Manor in St. Mary's Town, Shaka. "Yes," said Grant, "the day's paper will be out tomorrow." Whitemore's friend drowned, and tomorrow's front pages might read something like this: "Whitemore Mystery, Whitemore's Friend Misses Strangely." "It's not good for Walt." "Yes, the media always likes to exaggerate, and its influence is always inversely proportional to its news value." "What do you think happened to him, Inspector? What happened to Leslie?" "Well, at first I assumed he might have gone off on his own pleasure." "You mean he volunteered! Why?" "Without knowing him, I can't tell. So you don't think he's the type to pull off such tricks?" "Oh, he's not, absolutely not. He's not that kind of guy at all. He's a quiet—good taste guy, and he doesn't do it just for the fun of it. And all his stuff is still here , where can he go? He can only stand there, unable to move. " "Speaking of his stuff, have you seen his tin case?" "It's a photo box. I think I've seen it once. I was surprised how well organized it was." "There's something missing from the bottom of it and I can't find what was there. Do you know where that thing is now?" "I don't know, I don't remember exactly what was in it, I just remember it was neat. Probably some potions and negatives or something." "Is he locked?" "Yes, because some of those potions are poisonous. But I'm not sure it's always locked. Is there a lock now?" "No, otherwise I wouldn't have known there was an empty space in there." "I thought the police could open any lock." "They can do it, but they can't necessarily do it." She smiled and said, "I used to have this kind of trouble at school." "By the way," he said, "do you recognize this glove?" He took the glove from his pocket. "Yes," she said curiously, "it seems to be mine. Where did you find it?" "In the drawer where Syl kept his handkerchief." He thought, it's like touching a snake, and it will flinch immediately.One moment she's open and unconscious, the next she's staring at you and getting defensive. "It's so strange." Her throat was a little tight, "Maybe he picked it up and planned to return it to me. This was supposed to be in my car, another old pair of gloves I used while driving.It's just when it was lost, I have no idea. " "I see." "The other one, I think it's still in the bag in my car. It's for when I'm on the phone or shopping, not every day." "Do you mind if I take it away?" "No, of course not. Is it a piece of evidence?" "Not necessarily. But anything in Seale's room is of great potential value to us at this moment." "I think the glove might mislead you rather than help you, but you can keep it anyway." He loved the thoughtfulness, and was glad she had recovered.He didn't want to keep teasing a snake. "Would Walter Whitemore know what was missing from the box?" "I don't know, but you can ask." She opened the door and called Walter. "Or does anyone else in the house know?" "Well, Aunt Lavinia can't, she doesn't even know the contents of her own drawers. My mother can't, because she never goes near the attic room, unless she is checking whether the bed is broken, or Is the floor dirty? We can ask the servant." Grant led them to the top room, and pointed out the vacancy he had spoken of.What the hell was there? "Could it be some used chemical or something?" Walter speculated. "I thought about it, but with all the necessary chemicals still here, you don't think the ones he used would fill the void?" They really couldn't; Alice the maid thought so too. Nobody cleaned his room but her, she said.Mrs. Cromper came from the village every day to clean it, but she didn't clean it either. She only cleaned the stairs, the courtyard and the studio. Grant looked at their faces thoughtfully.Whitemore was expressionless; Elizabeth was curious and puzzled; Alice was worried, and she was now responsible for something missing in the box. He still got nothing. Whitemore walked him to the gate, staring into the night and saying, "Where is your car parked?" "I parked in the alley," said Grant. "Good night, and thank you very much for your help." He walked out into the dark and waited for Walter to close the gate, then walked along the house to the garage.The garage was still open, and there were three cars in it, but not a single glove could be found in any of them.