Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve

In the dining room, three people sat around a table drinking tea: an old woman who looked exactly like Mrs. Everett, a girl with red hair and pale skin, and a Levantine.When his master cleared the way for him to be brought before them, Grant hid behind the burly priest, taking the opportunity to keep an eye on each of them, and to his great satisfaction his man recognized him.Ramon stared at him for two seconds, the blood flushed and his face quickly receded, turning pale. Grant wondered how Danny Miller would ridicule the spectacle—Danny had never been a good guy.The Levantines were undoubtedly masters at the game—manslaughter was more likely than murder.

"I've brought a visitor," the pastor said. "This is Mr Grant. I saw him fishing, but caught nothing, so I invited him in for a cup of tea.This is my sister, Mrs. Dimmer.Niece, Miss Dimore.And our friend, Mr. Lal.Now, where do you want to sit?" Grant was arranged to sit next to Miss Dimo, facing Ramon. When the pastor introduced, Ramon nodded slightly to Grant, showing no signs of losing his composure. He sat motionless. Then he got up quietly to get his things. As he sat down, Grant noticed something that gave him a shock. The glass that Ramon had placed on his plate was facing the wrong way. The man was left-handed.

"I'm glad you didn't wait for me, Agnes," said Mr. Robin in his clear voice. "I thought you would. I crossed the rickety bridge and came back across the river. Today The evening is so beautiful." His niece said: "We're glad you brought Mr. Grant back so that it's an odd number and we can vote. We used to argue whether mixed races are good or bad. I don't mean black and white, but different languages." White people. My mother said the pure blood race was the best, of course, because she was a true Highlander, whose origins can be traced back to the Flood of Genesis. There never was a MacCannan man who didn't have a boat of his own. My father grew up on the border between Scotland and England, my grandmother was English, and Mr. Lal's grandmother was Italian. Everyone has their own opinions. Now, Uncle Robert is undoubtedly Is on my mother's side, being a full-blooded Highlander with all the stubbornness and pride that this race hates. So we asked you to join us in discussing whether your ancestors also wore It's plaid."

Grant confessed that he thought biracial people were valued more than full blood people.So, mixed races still exist today.It is a good thing that interbreeding makes human beings more diverse and no longer limited to a few single traits. Most of the people of mixed race are smart, witty and versatile, even broad-minded and caring for people.In short, he agreed with Miss Dimmer and Mr. Lal. It was just a casual chat, but Grant was surprised that Mr. Robin refuted his words fiercely and seriously. The blood of the Highlanders bewitched him, and he compared it with most of the nations of Western Europe to prove the legacy of other nations.

It wasn't until the tea was finished that Grant discovered a very ridiculous thing. Mr. Robin had never stepped out of the high ground in his life.He had only been to the Lowlands because of his clergy training thirty years ago, and he knew no other countries at all.The empathetic Miss Dimo ​​answered the conversation at the right time, interrupting his high talk and easing the controversy. Grant played a role in the Logan Greek chorus (the choir in religious celebrations or dramatic performances, in ancient Greek tragedies, they played the role of exuberant spectators, in order to illustrate the process of the drama and interpret the theme of the drama, and resonate with the actors .), he focused his thoughts on Ramon.

The Levantine began to behave a little more naturally.He met Grant's eyes with personal animosity, and nothing else could attract his attention. He had no intention of hiding the scar on his thumb, even though he already knew that Grant saw his telltale mug, damn proof.He was clearly planning the good show that was unfolding.Just wait and see, when the time comes, he will submit obediently.At last Grant saw the hostile gleam in his eyes.Arresting a coward is no easy job.It would be easier for the investigators to chop off his shin than to pinch his knee with a torture instrument.At this moment, there is no need to use the knee clamp at all.

Facing this man, there was one thing that forced Grant to be ruthless: in just three days of his stay, he seemed to have won Miss Dimore's favor.He returned her with a quick smile, his eyes lingering on Miss Dimore more than anyone else at the table.Miss Dimore seems to be a girl who can take care of herself--she is as quick-witted as any red-haired girl--so she doesn't mind the unmanly Ramon.Is Ramon looking for an ally? A murderer on the run usually doesn't have much interest in making love -- especially if he's not good at crime.This is the meanness and ruthlessness of opportunists.Well, he has no chance of achieving his goal.Grant waited and watched.He rejoined the conversation, tasting fried calamari, a staple of the five-thirty tea at the Vicarage, which the Levantines also ate, and Grant wondered how Ramon could swallow every morsel? Was he really shameless enough to think "Don't you think so, Mr. Grant?" He did not deliberately avoid his role in this conversation.To everyone else, the man sitting here is no different than the man who sat in the same position at lunch.

The Levantines did this very well. When tea was over and they were about to smoke, Grant offered Miss Deemore a cigarette.She raised her eyebrows in feigned fear. "My dear sir," she said, "this is the Vicarage. If you want to go out and sit on the rocks by the river, I can do it, but not under this roof." The words "under this roof" obviously meant something, and her uncle pretended not to hear them. "It's really flattering on me," Grant said, "but it's getting late and I have to walk back to Gurning Village. I think I'd better get going now. Thank you all for giving me a good time." Afternoon. Perhaps, Mr. Lal would like to accompany me for a short walk? Anyway, it's still early and the weather is fine."

"No problem," said the Levantine, walking into the hall a step ahead of him.Fearing that Ramon would leave, Grant hastily bid farewell to his master.Then he saw Ramon quietly in the foyer putting on the old army jacket he had worn that morning.Miss Dimore followed her uncle out, and watched them go from the front of the house.For a moment Grant feared that she would catch up with them.Perhaps it was Ramon's insistence to turn his back on her that put her off.She said to him as if nothing had happened: "You don't want to come back alone, do you?" He didn't answer, knowing that she was still standing there without looking back.It only meant one thing: he didn't want her to go with him, and she'd better keep her mouth shut sensibly.Grant was silent. He would not have a hysterical woman jump into this muddy water if he could avoid it.Walking out of the gate, the two men turned to greet the two standing at the gate.As Grant put on his old fedora, he saw Ramon salute, took off his cap, and followed him in return.In addition, Grant really did not know what other gestures could express the sincerity of farewell.

They walked up the uphill path without saying a word, until they were far away from the view of the house, and stopped at the fork of the road leading to the mountain and the path leading to the field along the river. Grant said: "I think , you should know what I want you to do, Ramon?" "What do you mean by that?" said Ramon, looking him in the face. "I am Inspector Grant from Scotland Yard. I have a warrant for the man who killed Sorrell in Wuffington's ranks on the night of the 13th. It was you. I warn you that anything you say will be Evidence in court. I want to make sure you are unarmed. Could you please take your hand out of your pocket so I can search you?"

"You are mistaken, Inspector." The man said, "I said I would walk with you for a certain distance, but I didn't say how far. Forgive me, I will only send it here." He pulled out his left hand in his pocket, Fearing that he was shooting a revolver, Grant raised his hands the moment he made a move.Although he closed his eyes instinctively, he still saw that what Ramon took out was the blue teacup paper mat on the afternoon tea table in the Vicarage Hall.In embarrassment, he half-opened and half-closed his eyes, pretending to cough and sneeze, but only heard the sound of footsteps leaving quickly on the field ridge. He immediately focused his attention and identified the direction of the sound. for two minutes.The memory of Streid's night came to him, and he decided to catch up.No one—not even a man as agile as the Levantine—could have run that far in such a short time.His range of motion is limited by the point of exhaustion.He must have escaped along some route, and the Levantine escaped, but when he finally exhausted himself, he was stuck in the countryside.Yes, he was cunning enough to know that.Therefore, the most likely scenario is to repeat the old tricks, repeat the tricks of the night at Strayed; hide, wait until it is dark enough to move safely, and then have a veritable escape. Grant thought that in this way, the Levantines should stand on a higher ground to easily grasp the situation.A few miles away, a narrow trickle trickled down the hill.The gully wasn't enough to hide his upright frame, but if he stooped it would certainly cover his way up the hill along the heath.His piercing eyes quickly looked around as far as they could see.He reached the small canyon, bent down, and climbed up, stopping every few yards to make sure that there was no movement in his field of vision and that he had not yet exposed himself.Continuing to climb, the canyon is blocked by birch trees, and further away, the canyon penetrates into a small terrace scattered with a few birch trees.In the green twilight of the evening, the birches not yet swallowed up by the darkness, as far as the eye could see from the mesas, Grant decided to give it a go.He carefully got up from the sandy bank by the stream and walked towards the sparse lawn on the terrace.Walk across the lawn to the edge of a dense broom tree just a few yards before the hillside.The advantage of the location allowed him to scout the entire valley before him, except for the stone slab on his right, which was obscured by a pile of firewood that could be seen everywhere in the countryside.Seeing this pile of firewood reassured him a lot.The firewood was to Ramon like the store across Bedford Street, and he was sure that Ramon was hiding there now, waiting for Grant to call him from somewhere along the road.What puzzled him was whether Ramon was going to take a bus or a taxi.What was his desperate need other than waiting for night to come? He must have known well that if he waited until it was dark Grant would sound the alarm.It was getting dark.Should he give up his hiding place and warn Ramon? Was that what Ramon wanted him to do? Would it be in Ramon's favor if he gave up surveillance and went back to seek help? Put yourself in the shoes - to see through Ramon's tricks.The more he thought about it, the more he believed that Ramon was lucky that he would turn back for help.Apparently he had no other way to go.He had already given Ramon a chance to sneak away, but he himself didn't take advantage of the opportunity. Judging from the current situation, he was struggling needlessly.Undoubtedly, next, he guessed that the inspector was so frightened that he had no time to think about his or other people's feelings, and decided to go back and find rescuers to continue his arrest operation.It must have been so, and Grant decided to stay where he was, and continue to monitor the countryside. For a while he hid among the damp, bleak birch bushes, looking out over the valley partly covered with leaves. At one point, the brakes of the car screeched across the downhill road on his left, and soon he saw the car pass the bridge in front of the village, crawl all the way behind the Carnich Hotel like a little black spider, and disappear into the northern seaside highway.The cry of goats came from the distant hills, and the late larks sang loudly in the sky where the sun was still hanging on the mountainside.Except for the gurgling water, there was no movement in the valley.Slowly, the northern sky light gradually began to disappear.There is movement, below the river.Needless to say, it was the flickering sparkling light lingering on the surface of the river.However, it wasn't the river, something else was moving.He held his breath and waited for an opportunity to move, his heart pressed against the lawn, and he heard the frequency of his own pulse beating in his ears.He had to rest easy, but for a moment he saw clearly what he wanted to see.His quarry slid out from behind a twelve-foot boulder by the river's edge and disappeared under the opposite bank.Grant still waited patiently. Did he want to be on level ground, or was he thinking where he was going? Agitated, Grant realized that he was ridiculously addicted to watching mindless wild animals go about their business—most of them while snooping. There will be that tickling feeling in my heart.Now he moved slowly down the river, to make sure that Ramon was not standing still.Ramon managed to disguise himself as a villager and headed somewhere.He had been in the war—Grant almost forgot that Ramon had probably served in the army at his age.He probably knows all there is to know about cover.The second time, Grant saw nothing - it was purely his own squirming consciousness.If Ramon's dodge from the rocks to the hide across the river was more adept than simply showing up in the clearing, he might not have been able to see clearly before. Without going further, Grant remembered that the left bank of the river was almost the best hiding place. It was time for him to abandon his seat on the dais and step down from the arena to fight.What was Ramon going to do? From where he was, he could be back in the parsonage in fifteen minutes.Is there his intended destination? Was he trying to arouse the high-sighted Miss Dee Moore by this? Not a bad idea.However, if it were Grant, if he was Ramon and had to go back to find reinforcements after surveying the situation, the pastor's hall would be the last choice anyway. Convinced that he was right, Grant climbed down the ravine again as fast as he could, keeping himself hidden and undetected. Without thinking twice, he returned to the deserted trail, secretly hoping it was the right thing to do.Between the river and him there was a stretch of wasteland, strewn with cobblestones, but not enough to block anything larger than a rabbit, and a firewood pile in the distance covered Ramon, who fled into the river when he was not looking.So, why not just go back and prepare to issue the alarm now? Has the prisoner he wanted to arrest been harbored by the pastor’s niece? Why not seek help from a third party? She will bear all the consequences on her own.But there is still no need to scare the snake, he restrained himself.He had to find out if Ramon was really going back to the vicarage and follow him again and catch him right there. That seemed wiser, and Grant trotted across the little wasteland so that he would not be seen by others downriver at the same distance as Ramon.He wanted to wade across the river, follow Ramon to the river bed and continue to watch him. He didn't want his prisoner to get away, he wanted to wait until he got back to the parsonage so he could get his stuff without a hitch.If he takes the opportunity to risk crossing the river, he can monitor Ramon's activities on the opposite bank nearby, and he can act synchronously when necessary. If he could catch up to him, Ramon would never notice that someone was following him.He watched the rushing water.Time is precious, at this juncture, even if the whole body gets wet, so what.He gritted his teeth in concern, dived into the cold water, and plunged into the torrent with the frenzy of chasing his life.Grant chose a fixed point where the river was divided into three streams by two boulders. If he could approach the first boulder smoothly, he would be able to grab the second boulder and jump onto the bank.It doesn't matter if he can't jump to the bank, as long as his hands can reach the bank.He wants to cross the river by force.He stepped back a step or two, visually measuring the distance between him and the first boulder.The first boulder is flatter than the second and can be used as a ferry, and the second is sharper in shape and used as cover.Muttering prayers in his mouth, he began to trek towards the goal, feeling that the toe of his boots on the stone was slipping a bit, he stabilized his footing, but found that the stone under his feet was slanting towards the black puddle, so he had to jump forward.Knowing that jumping from the slippery rock would lack grip, he made it to the edge of the second rock, feeling his hand on the bank far from his waist.Thank God he scrambled ashore, out of breath, hastily wringing out his heavy tweed pants before the weight of the water hampered his movement on the high ground.There is one strange thing that cannot be seen in the wasteland.The dead grass on the lawn turned into a muddy pool under his feet, and dried blackberries stubbornly adhered to his soaked woolen trousers. By the time he got close to the edge of the river bank, he had been beaten all over by the birch branches that shaded him. It was red and swollen, and I stepped into the heather hole and stepped on it. He thought unhappily, this is not an action to capture criminals, it is simply performing a musical stage play. Panting, he walked to the diversion of the river and jumped into the water to continue the investigation.He found his quarry five yards from the parsonage, moving slowly and carefully.An idea came to Grant's mind that the moment of euphoria would come when the hunter, after careful planning, finally caught the prey in the open air.It won't be long.In an instant, Ramon turned into the small back door that he walked through in the clear morning, talking and laughing.He, Grant, emerged from behind the birch bushes and sprinted down the river path twice as fast as he could.He had an automatic pistol and two pairs of handcuffs in his pocket, and now he was finally going to need them—all if necessary.His inmate is unarmed, the paper coaster he plucked from the coffee table is thrown away, and he's no longer a threat.At this moment, he can't care about anyone's feelings—except his own.Even if it would scare all the women in this street into hysterics—he would do it. Grant still cocked his eyebrows with anger, secretly promising that Ramon would look after him as soon as he walked through the door.I really want to see the expression on Grant's face at that time - a man with a face of resentment and resentment is gracefully preparing to move, trying to hide the fear in the little boy's eyes when he holds his first fireworks by his noble demeanor. Believable surprise.He blinked hard, but the picture in front of him still remained unchanged.He was really right.Ramon passed the door and walked to the end of the parsonage wall, ready to cross the bridge.What was the idiot trying to do? Yes, Grant thought he was a big idiot.He had already helped him figure out an unassailable escape route-go back and beg Miss Dee Moore to let him hide in the parsonage-this fool has failed his good intentions.He slowly approached the pier. What is this guy doing? What is going on in his head? His every move must have a purpose, and it is definitely not a casual or mystical trick.Realizing that he was too preoccupied with the suspenseful question in his head and neglected to pay attention to his current position, he suddenly glanced back at the riverbed.Everything looks normal, nothing out of the ordinary around the valley.Even at this dreary hour, when everyone was eating a good supper and staying indoors; in another hour they would be out smoking their pipes standing on the dirt floor under the bridge.There will be more and more pedestrians coming and going, and his hidden whereabouts will soon be revealed.Ramon climbed the road to the bridge, going neither north to the village on the right nor to the village on the left.He crossed the road and disappeared on the embankment again.What was he going there for? Was he going to detour there to the hotel at Junction, or was he trying to steal Ford? But he was obviously waiting for Grant's warning.He did not venture along the bank to the garage after waiting for some time on purpose for Grant's attention.The bank? The bank! Thank God he figured it out! The guy wanted a boat and walked away.There were many boats moored on the deserted banks, out of sight of the village.Now the river was receding--it was ebbing--so imperceptibly that no one would see him leave the bank.Grant sprinted down the hill, reluctantly admiring the fellow's ingenuity.Grant was very familiar with the West Coast, and he knew very well how frequently these ships were used. If you live in a village on the west coast, you will find that the most in short supply of the necessities of life is fresh fish.If the McKenzie's boat disappears, they will first assume that someone else borrowed the boat, and they will not shout loudly-in case the borrower returns the boat, they will have to try to explain it.Stepping on the uneven path, Grant wondered, this was what Ramon had in mind when he sat drinking tea in the vicarage? Or did he suddenly decide to do it? The itinerary was planned by him in advance, so the team murder may have been planned by him alone.In retrospect, even if Ramon's grandmother had been Italian, he wouldn't have been carrying around a useless dagger.Although the guy showed a lack of restraint in both escapes, his nature was worse than his actions. While Grant was sprinting down the trail, he had already decided what to do next.This morning, when he revealed himself to Drysdale at the Carnich Hotel, he noticed the boathouse jutting out on the other side of the house, screened by a small breakwater along the coast.Grant well remembered seeing the stern of a motorboat.If he guessed correctly, Drysdale should be home by now, his light was on, and Ramon was working his crooked brain. At this time, he had already run to the end of the bridge, out of breath.He came from the other side of the valley, stepped on heavy fishing boots, and dragged a suit of wet tweed trousers and ran down the mountain.With his quick hands and feet, he had to rely on his strong will to rush from the last few hundred yards at the north end of the road to the door of the Carnich Hotel at twice the speed.Once there, the worst is over.The inn stood just a few yards from the gate on a narrow lane between the sea and the road, and Drysdale's servants were astonished to see a man standing near the gate, out of breath and out of breath. Next assertion. "What happened to the master?" he said. "What happened? Did he drown?" "Hasn't he come back yet?" said Grant. "Damn it! Is that a motorboat? Can I borrow one?" He casually pointed to the boathouse in front, and the servant seemed to be confused by him.When Grant appeared this morning, there was not a single servant here. "I'm sorry, sir, but we can't lend it to you," said the servant. "It will be better for you if you get out of here. I warn you that if Mr. Drysdale comes back and sees it, he will make you look bad." .” "Is he coming back soon? When?" "He'll be back any minute." "Then it's too late!" "Get out!" said the servant, "or I'll send someone to drive you out." "Listen," said Grant, holding the servant with his arms, "don't be a fool. I'm as clear-headed as you are. Come, stand where you can see the sea." Grant's tone of voice caught the man's attention, and the artificial coercion made the servant so frightened that he had to approach the sea slowly, accompanied by a maid. A rowboat by the lake, taking advantage of the ebb tide, quickly rowed towards the sea from the narrow outlet. "Did you see?" Grant asked, "I have to catch up with that ship, and I can't catch it with a normal ship." "No, you don't want to borrow this motorboat," said the man. "The tide ebbs very slowly here." "That's why I'm borrowing the motorboat. Who usually drives the motorboat? Mr. Drysdale?" "No. I usually drive when he's away." "Come on, you drive now. Mr. Drysdale knows where I'm coming from. I've been fishing the river all day. The man stole the boat and was about to run away. We have other reasons I have to catch up with him, please let me drive the boat." "If I do the same, will you take all the responsibility?" "Oh, of course. Justice will be on your side. I promise to take responsibility." "Okay, I have to explain first." He hurriedly wanted to rush into the house. Grant reached out to stop him, but was a step too late.For a moment he worried that the servant was not trustworthy, and that he was doing this as an excuse to get away.But he was back in a little while, and they ran across the narrow meadow to the boathouse, "Captain Robert" The number is floating there.Drysdale had apparently bought the boat with his horse's winnings from the National Championships, and the foreman pulled the engine, making a brief idling noise, and Drysdale walked to the side of the house with his gun, and looked Coming back from the mountains in the evening, Grant greeted him cheerfully and hurriedly explained to him what was going on. Without saying a word, Drysdell walked back from the boathouse with him and said, "It's all right, Pidgeon, I know everything, I'll take Mr. Grant out to sea. I'll prepare a sumptuous dinner for the two of us later." —no, three—when will we be back?” Pijin, who no longer had to be frightened, got off the boat easily.He gave Captain Robert a push, and Drysdale started the engine.There was a rumble and they sailed away from the pier to the lagoon.Grant's eyes locked on the black dot against the twilight of the western sky.What was Ramon doing now? Are they getting close? The black dot began to alter its course.It seemed to be paddling toward the land to the south, away from the dimly lit horizon, with the southern hills behind it, and the boat was barely visible. "Can you see him?" asked Grant worriedly. "I can't." "I can still see him paddling south. Take it easy, we'll be there before he arrives." They advanced at full speed, and the hills to the south rose to meet them in seemingly inconceivable ways.In just a second or two, Grant wanted to confirm the ship again.The man paddled desperately towards the shore, and it was difficult for Grant to estimate from the distance on the water how far the man was from the shore or how far they were from him. Captain Robert's speed suddenly slowed, and he grasped All the things that were in suspense before. Drysdell slowed down.For a moment they were almost on him.When the two boats were five yards apart, Ramon stopped rowing suddenly.Grant thought, he's ready to get caught.He saw Ramon stooped in the boat. Did he think we were going to shoot him? Grant was baffled by the move.Then Drysdale turned off the engine, and they glided leisurely closer to Ramon's boat.Ramon took off his coat and hat and stood beside the boat kicking his legs as if about to dive.His bare feet slipped away from the wet side of the boat, and he fell head and foot into the water. They distinctly heard a terrible crash as the back of his head hit the boat and his figure disappeared into the water. Grant had taken off his coat and boots while the launch approached Ramon. "Can you swim?" Drysdale asked calmly. "If you can't, we'll just wait for him to come up." "I'm all right," said Grant. "I swam well enough to hold out until the boat came and rescued me. If I'm going to catch him, I've got to swim now. He didn't seem to hit hard." He said Jumping from the edge of the boat, six or seven seconds later, the head broke through the water. Grant dragged the unconscious man back to the side of the boat, and Drysdale helped pull him aboard. "Got him!" he said, rolling the flabby mass on the deck. Drysdale tied the rowboat to the stern of Captain Robert and restarted the engine.He watched curiously as Grant sloppily wrung his wet suit as he searched his prey.The guy was knocked completely unconscious, bleeding from a gash in the back of his head. "Sorry for messing up your deck." Grant apologized for the pool of blood on the ground. "That's all right," said Drysdale. "Wipe it off. Is this the man you want to arrest?" "yes." He glanced at the dark, expressionless face. "With all due respect to asking a question, why did you arrest him?" "He killed people." "Really?" said Drysdale, with what Grant said was "he stole the sheep." "Is he a foreigner?" "No, Londoner." "He looks like he's going to be hanged at last, doesn't he?" Grant shot a sudden glance at the man he had captured.Is he too bad to be forgiven? Certainly not. Until the Carnich Hotel appeared before their eyes, Grant said, "He lives with Robin at the vicarage, and I can't take him back there. I think the hotel is the most appropriate place.The government will cover all necessary costs. "When they quickly floated on the pier bridge, Pidgin, who saw them coming back from a long distance, hurried down to meet them. Drysdell said: "The man we're chasing has hit his head. Where's the burning room where Mr. Grant can rest?" "Sir, your room is next door." "Very well, let's lift this man up. Ask Mattson to find Dr. Anderson in Gurning Village. By the way, tell Gurning's people that Mr. Grant is staying here tonight and bring back all his things." Grant declined his unnecessary generosity. "Why would you do that, this guy stabbed his friend in the back!" he said. "I didn't do it for him," said Drysdale, laughing, "nor did I intend to deal with my hotel's greatest competitor. But you can't let your criminal escape now that you've got him. Think about it. Depending on your condition, you have to keep an eye on him all the time, and they are starting to light a fire in your cold room—" He pointed to the hotel on the other side of the river, "Take him to bed, your prisoner is half dead now Yes, you'd better take a bath in your room now to warm yourself up. It will be much more convenient to keep him here. And, Pidgin!" He turned around, "keep your mouth shut, don't Give any wind up. Let's say this gentleman fell into the water accidentally while rowing. We saw it and went over to help him." "Yes, sir," said Pidgeon. Grant and Drysdale carried the huge floppy mass up the stairs, and carried him, without hands, into a bedroom with a fire in the fireplace.Then, while Drysdale wrote a note explaining to Mrs. Deemore that her guest had to stay at the hotel that night due to a minor accident, Pidgeon and Grant put Ramon into bed. He had a mild concussion, which they all thought was no big deal. Grant changed into his master's clothes, and sat by the bed and waited until someone knocked at the door announcing he was having dinner. He answered "Come in," and Miss Deemore entered the room.She wasn't wearing a hat, she was carrying a small bag on her wrist, and she looked very calm. "I brought some of his things," she said.Walking to the bed, he looked at Ramon expressionlessly.In order to explain something, Grant said they had gone to the doctor, and in his—Grant's—view, Ramon had only had a mild concussion, a little injury to the back of his head. "How did it happen?" she asked.Grant couldn't justify himself when he had changed his wet clothes. "We met Mr Drysdale and it was he who came to our aid. Mr. Lal was standing on the edge of the breakwater when he accidentally slipped and slipped into the water. When he fell, the back of his head hit the ground. "She nodded. She still seemed to have some doubts, but she couldn't express it clearly." Then, I'll stay here to watch him tonight, thanks to Drysdale for saving his life in time. She untied the knot on the sundry bag, "You know, when we walked upstream along the river this morning, I had a premonition that something was going to happen.Glad that's what happened and there wasn't much damage.I thought someone was going to die, or get terminally ill. " After a pause, still with her hands still on her shoulders, she said, putting her head behind her shoulders, "Will you stay with Mr. Drysdale tonight, too?" Grant answered "yes", and the door just opened, and Drysdale walked in. "Are you ready, Inspector, you must be starving." He had just finished speaking when he realized that Miss Dimore was there.At that moment, Grant felt that Drysdale was indeed a smart man.He didn't even blink. "Oh, Miss Deemore, are you worried about your truant student? I don't think that's necessary. He's just had a mild concussion, and Dr. Anderson will be in to see him later." Even though the woman followed suit, Grant's heart sank when he met Miss Dimore's clever eyes. “谢谢你把他带回这里，”她对德莱斯戴尔说，“在医生来之前，我们也没有什么可以做的了。如果你不介意的话，我今晚想留在这里照顾他。”说罢她转身面向格兰特，故意问，“你刚刚叫什么探长? ” “学校的督学，”( 也有督察者、督学之意。) 格兰特马上脱口而出，说完立刻后悔。 德莱斯戴尔也察觉到这个失误，硬着头皮帮他圆谎。 “他看起来一点都不像，对吧? 调查工作一向是笨拙的最后手段。我们去用餐前，你还需要点儿什么东西吗，迪摩小姐? ” “不用了，谢谢你。如果我需要任何东西，可以摇铃找服务生来吗? ” “我希望你这么做。如果你要找我们，我们就在楼下的房间里。”他出了房门，沿着走廊走，而正当格兰特尾随着他出去时，迪摩小姐跟着他一起走出房间，顺手掩上身后的门。“探长，”她说，“你当我是傻瓜吗? 你难道不知道我在伦敦的医院工作了七年。你不能心存侥幸地把我当成这里最无知的人来要。能不能请你好心告诉我，这里到底发生了什么事? ” 德莱斯戴尔已经走到楼下，走廊上只剩他们两个。他觉得此时若再捏造另一个谎言是对她莫大的侮辱。“事到如今，迪摩小姐，我就一五一十地告诉你吧。我之前不愿让你知道真相，是因为我以为这样可以保护你，让你免于——免于对某些事感到遗憾。不过，这么做也无济于事。 我从伦敦来，是为了要逮捕这个现在和你住在同一个屋檐下的人。从我加人你们的下午茶，他就知道我的来意了，因为他曾见过我一面。他送我走了一段路之后，趁机逃脱。后来，他偷了一艘船潜逃，我们追到他时，他正准备从船上跳水，才会撞到自己的头。 ““你为什么要逮捕他? ”'最后还是无法避免。“他在伦敦杀了一个人。 " “谋杀! ”这句话似乎是宣判，而非质疑。她似乎已经了解，在其他情况下，探长会说他是过失杀人，“所以说，他的本名并非拉尔。” “他原名姓拉蒙——乔瓦得·拉蒙。” 他等着她像一般女人做出强烈的反应，嘶吼着“我不信! 他不可能做出这种事” 这类的话，但是他错了。 “你要逮捕他只是因为他有嫌疑，还是他真的杀了人? ” “恐怕这件事已经没有转圜的余地了。”格兰特委婉地说。 “但是我阿姨——怎么会叫他到这里来? ” “我想可能是伊芙雷太太对他有所亏欠吧，她认识他有一段时间了。” “在伦敦的时候，我只跟阿姨碰过一次面——我们对彼此都没什么好感——但她绝不会以为我能轻易同情做错事的人。我相信她这么做自有她的道理。这么说，他并不是新闻记者喽? ” “不是，”格兰特说，“他替赛马赌注登记人工作。” “哦，谢谢你终于告诉我真相，”她说，“我现在得帮安德森医生做些准备。” “你还是愿意照顾他? ”格兰特不由自主地问。不相信事实竟然如此的狂喊现在才要爆发了吗? “没错，”这名让人刮目相看的女孩说，“他是个杀人凶手，但我们不能改变他脑震荡的事实，不是吗? 就算他滥用了我们的仁慈，我是名专业护士是不容改变的事实。 你可能知道过去的高地有一个不成文的惯例，即使客人用他的箭杀了主人的兄弟，他还是能受到最热诚最神圣的款待。我从来不以高地人为荣的，“她说，”但这次例外。“不知道是因为想笑还是哽咽，她轻轻地倒抽一口气。说完，她回房间里去看护那名不小心利用了她和她家人的男人。