Chapter 7 Chapter Six

By Friday morning, it was too late to do anything to protect Franchise. Robert had weighed the police's efforts to dig further evidence and calculated the destructive power of rumors, but he hadn't thought of Ike-Emma. "Ike-Emma" is the tabloid representative of the latest development in the western British press. The purpose of this tabloid is to exchange a circulation of 50,000 pounds for 2,000 pounds in damages. So it used the most eye-catching headlines, the most sensational pictures, and the most frivolous and irresponsible words in the history of British newspapers to report the news it got.The industry says it keeps creating nasty, unpublishable monosyllabic words -- but can't keep them in check.The press has traditionally been in charge of publishing and censoring itself, deciding what is allowed to be published and based on what newspaper principles.But no one person or group has any sanctioning power against a newspaper that digs up private gossip and secrets and decides not to abide by those principles.Over the past ten years, "Ike-Emma" has a daily circulation of more than half a million copies, making it the best-selling newspaper.On every morning commuter train, seven out of ten passengers read Ike-Emma.

This time, it was "Ike-Emma" who reported the Franchise incident. Early that Friday morning, Robert went to the home of an elderly woman in the suburbs who thought she was dying and wanted to change her will.The old woman would ask for this every three months on average, but her doctor made it clear that she "could live long enough to blow out a birthday cake with a hundred candles on it".However, as her lawyer, of course, she couldn't tell such a client who issued an emergency call at 8:30 in the morning to stop making trouble.So Rob took some new will forms, picked up the car at the garage, and drove into the country.Served the tyrant lying on the pillow-the old woman always refused to understand the basic fact that four properties are not divisible by three-if it weren't for that meaningless argument, he would actually appreciate the country spring He even hummed lightly on the way back, anticipating his meeting with Marion Sharp in less than an hour.

He decided to forgive her for liking Neville.After all, Neville hadn't tried to coax her into Cali's way in the first place, as he had done in the first place.To be human must be fair. He drove the car back to the garage and parked it in front of the people who came and went to the rental stables in the morning, and then he suddenly remembered that it was past the first of the lr month and it was time to pay some bills, and he went to the office to find the paperwork supervisor Burlow.Stanley, who was found in the office, was flipping through memos and withdrawal slips with his thumb.His palms are fairly muscular, making the arms from the wrists look surprisingly small.

"When I was in the Signal Corps," Stanley said, looking at him absently, "I used to think that the people who kept files in the army were ignorant fools, but now, I'm not so sure." "Is something missing?" said Rob. "I just came in and paid my bills. Usually this is when Bill has the papers all ready. "I believe it's somewhere around here," said Stanley, thumbing something. "I am searching." Robert was already quite familiar with the office, helping to pick up the pile of loose papers that Stanley had turned over so he could see Bill's neat stack of papers below.As he lifted the scattered pile of papers, he saw the face of a girl; the face of a girl who had been published in a newspaper.He didn't recognize it at once, he just thought of someone, someone familiar; he stopped.

"Found it!" said Stanley happily, taking a sheet of paper from a folder, and sweeping the remaining loose paper to a corner of the table, so that Robert could see the whole picture clearly.It was the front page of the Ike-Emma morning paper. Robert stared at the photo, frozen in shock. Stanley turned his head and reached for the stack of papers he was holding before noticing his sudden concentration. "That little thing," he said, "reminds me of that girl I met in Egypt. The eyes were also wide apart. A good boy, but telling lies that you can't tell the truth from."

He turned back and resumed sorting the loose papers, while Robert stood motionless. It was this girl who wrote these words in big black letters on the front page banner of the newspaper; below that, two-thirds of the page was a photo of the girl.Below that, in smaller letters but still brazenly written: Is this the house? Next is a photograph of Franchise. Finally, the words across the bottom of the page read: The girl said yes: How did the police respond? For details, please see the inside page. He stretched out his hand and flipped through the newspaper. Yes, it's all there, except for the names of the Sharp mother and daughter.

He flipped back and stared again at the astonishing choreography.Before yesterday, the Franchise was a four-walled house, so inconspicuous, so self-sufficient that not even the townspeople of Milford knew what it looked like.Now it stands for viewing on every newsstand, and on every grocery store counter it unfolds its drab, inhospitable but otherwise irrelevant spectacle against that innocent-seeming lid. The photo of the girl is a mug shot with her head and shoulders exposed, obviously the work of a photography company.Her hair was specially arranged, and she was dressed like a lady's dress for a banquet.Taking off that school uniform made her look—not less innocent, not older, not at all.He tried to find words to describe it; she seemed less-taboo, did she? That school uniform made it impossible to imagine her as a mature woman, the way a nun's dress gave people.Now he's discovering that school uniforms can give people an essence to protect.That protective association is triggered by two things:

Armor and camouflage.Now that the school uniform is gone, she no longer looks like just a little girl, but a woman who exudes slightly mature femininity. But anyway, it was a pitiful young face, a half-grown, pleading face. The clear forehead, wide-set eyes, and slightly pursed lips make people think that it is a disappointed child-this part is the most difficult part.This time, the Bishop of Labolo wasn't the only one who would easily believe the stories told by someone with such a face. "Can I borrow this paper?" he asked Stanley. "Take it," Stanley said. "We treated it as something casually flipping through at mid-morning tea, there wasn't much to read in it."

Robert was surprised. "Don't you think this is interesting?" he asked, pointing to the front page. Stanley glanced at the photo. "Not at all, except she reminds me of that woman in Egypt, the one who lied." "So you won't believe her story?" "What do you think!" Stanley said contemptuously. "So where do you think the girl was all that time?" "I? I think I'd be pretty sure—well, maybe minus the very. I'd say she's having fun," said Stanley.Then walk out of the office to greet a customer. Robert picked up the newspaper and left with a heavy heart.At least one person on the street didn't believe her story, but on the other hand, it was just a judgment made by the interplay of past memory and cynicism.

Stanley did read the whole story without paying attention to the names of people or places; after all, this is only the reading habit of about ten percent of newspaper readers (according to reliable statistics); the other nine percent will be word for word Read it carefully and discuss it with others.Now, maybe those people are already talking about it with color and glee. In his own office, he was told that Hallam had called. "Come in, and close the door!" he said to old Mr. Hasseltine.Hasseltine, who had reported to him as soon as he entered the office, was standing by the door of his room.

"have a look at this." He reached for the phone with one hand, and spread the newspaper in front of Mr. Hesoutine with the other. The old gentleman stretched out his small-boned, meticulous hands in a gesture that often strikes the first-timer as eerie. "That's what everybody's talking about," he said, concentrating on the paper, as he usually did on any curious document. "We're in the same boat, right?" Hallam said over the phone, searching for the words to explain their positions following the Ike-Emma revelations. "As if the police weren't in enough trouble!" He concluded, in a tone exactly like our police officers. "Any further news from Scotland Yard?" "Inspector Grant held my line for a long time at nine o'clock this morning, but they couldn't do anything about that paper except live with it. Police only play fair game.You have nothing to do. "That's right," said Robert. "We're in a country with a free press. " Hallam had another word of criticism to the press. "Does your people know?" he asked. "I don't think so. I'm sure they don't usually read a tabloid like the Ike-Emma, ​​and it's only just coming out, and there's not enough time for the good guys to get the news to them. They'll be there in ten minutes, though." Here, I'll tell them." "If there's anything I regret about this whole thing," Hallam said, "then this is the moment." "How did Ike-Emma know about it? I thought the parents—I mean, the girl's guardians—would be very reluctant to make it public like this." "Grant said it was the brother of the family who adopted the girl who argued and complained that the police were doing nothing and decided to go to the Ike-Emma. The newspaper's action tagline was "Ike-Emma Can Help You Recover" Justice "c As far as I know, they tracked down a story for three days in a row." When the phone was hung up, Robert thought that the report might be bad news for both parties.At least on this point, the two sides are equally weighted at both ends of the balance.The police will undoubtedly search for more concrete evidence; on the other hand, because the disclosure of the girl's photo may have given the Sharp mother and daughter a faint expectation that someone in a certain place will recognize the girl in the photo.Said: "The girl couldn't have been in Franchise that day, because in fact she was somewhere." "It's a dreadful story, Mr. Robert," said Mr. Hasseltine. "As far as I'm concerned, it's a hateful report and quite insulting." "That house," said Robert, "is the Franchise, where old Mrs. Sharp and her daughter lived, and that's where I was visiting the other day. If you remember, I'll make it available to them." Some legal advice." "Are you saying these people are our customers?" "yes." "But, Mr. Robert, this is not a case that our firm always takes!" Robert flinched from the panic in his tone. "It's so out of the nature of our usual cases - really, so out of the ordinary - we're not qualified to..." "I hope we are able to defend any client against a publication like Ike-Emma." Rob said calmly. Mr. Hasseltine looked at the noisy newspaper on the table, obviously facing a difficult problem: whether this was a criminal case, or just a fight against a newspaper that had lost its position. "After reading it, do you believe what the girl said?" asked Robert. "I don't see how she can make it up," said Mr. Hasseltine simply. "The story seems very detailed, doesn't it?" "True. But I saw the girl when she was brought to the Franchise last week--that is, the day I hurried out just after tea--and I didn't believe a word she said. ’ he emphasized, glad that he could say it with such certainty, and finally realize that subconsciously he had always thought this way. "But why did she choose the Franchise, and know so much about the house?" "I don't know, I don't understand at all." "Pick that most unlikely house—a house out of the way, not easily seen from the outside, on a quiet road, in country where people don't easily visit each other." "I get it, I don't know how that got there. But I'm sure it was planned and acted on. It's not a choice of which side's story is more believable, but which side's people are more believable. True. I firmly believe that the Sharpe mother and daughter would not do such a crazy thing; at the same time, I believe that the girl is capable of making up such a story. This is how I look at the case." He paused for a moment. "You'll just have to trust my instincts this time, Timmy," he said, calling the old clerk's attention by nickname. I don't know if it's because of the memory brought by the address of "Timmy" or the persuasiveness of the argument itself, but Mr. Hesoutine didn't make any further arguments. "You'll have a chance to meet the 'suspects,'" said Rob. "I've heard them coming to the office. Would you please let them in, please?" Mr. Hasseltine backed out silently, and Robert turned the paper to the bottom page, revealing a relatively harmless account of girls being smuggled out of the country. Mrs. Sharp wore a hat of respect for the occasion, a flat hat of black satin, and she looked like a peaceful doctor in office.This made Mr. Hessetting visibly relieved.He thought he would see a weird witch, but he didn't want to realize that what he saw in front of him was no different from the customers he usually saw. "Don't leave in a hurry," Robert said to him; then turned to the visitor: "Let me introduce to you the oldest member of our firm, Mr. Hesoutine." Old Mrs. Sharp could be gracious and courteous when she wanted to, and when she did she was almost as graceful and dignified as Queen Victoria.Mr. Hesoutine felt more at ease now.It seemed he had been subdued, and Robert had won the first battle. After he leaves, Robert notices that Marion seems to have something to say. "A strange thing happened this morning," she said. "We went to have coffee at Ann Bowling's - our usual place - and there were two empty tables, but when Miss Trulloff saw us, she hastily tipped her chair and leaned against the two tables. table, said they were booked. If she hadn't looked so embarrassed, I'd almost believe her. You don't think rumors are flying, do you? up?" "No," said Robert regretfully, "because she read the Ike-Emma this morning." He turned the paper over. "I'm really sorry to break this bad news to you. And you seem to have to grit your teeth and bear it. I don't think you've ever been so closely associated with a vicious tabloid, and asked others to use the perception in the newspaper. It’s a really sad thing to measure and look at.” "Well, my God, no!" said Marianne, looking excitedly at the picture of Franchise in the newspaper. Next, in a series of silences, the mother and daughter quickly read the contents of the inner pages. "Does that mean," said Mrs. Sharp at last, "that we have no recourse to a story like this?" "Unfortunately, no," said Robert. "All statements are true and are statements only, not comments. Even the comments—and I have no doubt that they will follow—are not enough to constitute obstruction of justice because the case has not yet entered the judicial process.They have the right to publish various reviews. " "There's also an implied conclusion to this whole thing," Marion said, "that the police didn't do their job. What did they think we did? Bribe the police?" "I think they want to make it clear to the police that poor victims are inferior to wealthy perpetrators." "Rich," repeated Marianne, her voice heavy with pain. "Anyone who owns a house with six chimneys is called rich. Now, if you haven't been too frightened to think, let's plan and plan: we know that girl never came to Franchise , she..." But Marian interrupted him. "Are you sure you 'know'?" she asked. "Yes," said Robert. Her provocative gaze gradually softened. "Thank you." She said softly. "How did the girl see or know about the house if she's never been there? Well, she saw it somehow. It's unlikely that she'd read out the material someone else gave her— — how did she see it? How to see it with your own eyes? ""I think you can see it from the top of a double-decker bus," said Marion. "But the double-decker bus doesn't go the Milford route.Or, on a wagonload full of straw, only it's not harvest time. " "Maybe it's not harvest time," Mrs. Sharp's hoarse voice said, "but there's no season when it comes to trucks. I've seen trucks piled as high as straw." "That's right," said Marianne. "Assuming the girl's first ride was a truck, not a car." "There's a loophole, though. If the girl was hitching a ride in a truck, she should have been seated next to the front driver, not on top of the load. Especially on a rainy evening. — has anyone tried to come to the Franchise to ask directions, sell things or fix things — some chance that the girl might follow?" No; both of them were sure no one had been around around the time the girl disappeared. "Let's assume, then, that what she knows about the Franchise was seen by some unknown chance from a height above the fence. We may never know when and how, even if We know, and we may not be able to prove it. In this way, if we try to find a way to prove that she was not in Franchise during that time, it seems quite difficult; we might as well focus on Wang Ming's time when she appeared elsewhere." "What are our chances of winning then?" asked Mrs. Sharp. "At least a little more than it was before this story came out," said Robert, pointing to the front page of the Ike-Emma. "That's arguably the part of the bad news that unexpectedly worked out in our favour. We couldn't have released a picture of the girl in this way ourselves in the hope of getting the actual whereabouts of the girl at that time, but now, they're revealing it— I mean the people on her own side-we look in the right direction and get some benefits to some extent. They reported the incident—no doubt to our loss; but they also published photographs—and if we were lucky, perhaps someone somewhere would find the incident and photographs inconsistent; for at that time, The girl in the picture was in another place, and could not have been in that house. " The frustration on Marion's face faded a little, and even Mrs. Sharp looked a little more relaxed.A disaster that originally seemed to be only bad enough, after all, also has the possibility of turning into their advantage. "What do we do about hiring a private eye?" Mrs. Sharp said. "I think you know we don't have much money, and a private eye doesn't sound cheap." "Yes, private investigations are not easy to control the budget, and usually cost more than expected. However, at the beginning, I planned to visit the relevant people myself to see if I could learn more about her and speculate on any clues of activities she may be engaged in. Follow these clues." "Will they tell you that?" "Well, maybe not, because it's likely that they don't know her very well themselves. I just hope to at least be able to construct a possible picture from the various information they give. "Everyone was silent for a while. "Mr. Blair, you are very special." Mrs. Sharp's attitude reappeared to be Queen Victoria's style again, but this time it seemed that there was something more besides that.That was surprising, she seemed to be the kind of person who would easily show kindness, at least that wasn't her usual behavior.The slightly jerky hospitality conveyed: "You know we're not rich, and probably won't even be able to pay you, and our case isn't one you're usually willing to take on, but you've done your best to help us as long as you can." .We are infinitely grateful.” "When are you leaving?" Marianne asked. "after lunch." "Nowadays? " "The sooner the better." "Then we won't bother you much," said Mrs. Sharp, standing up.Then he stopped and looked down at the newspapers spread out on the table. "Think how carefully we used to maintain the privacy of living in the Franchise," she sighed. He watched them walk out the door and into their cars.Then he asked Neville to come to his office, and at the same time picked up the phone to call Aunt Lin to help prepare the luggage. "I guess you haven't read today's Ike-Emma, ​​have you?" he asked Neville. "It's not necessary to ask at all," Neville replied. ． "Look at today's. Hello? Hayi, Aunt Lin." "Anyone want our firm's representative to sue the newspaper? If so, that's a lot of money. They like to settle out of court, in fact, they have a special fund just for—" Neville's voice broke off abruptly. . He saw the tabloid front page facing him on the table. Robert lifted his eyes and looked through the microphone with satisfaction at the undisguised surprise on the face of his young distant relative. As far as he knew, the younger generation of today used to boast that nothing under the sun could scare them; now he knew that these young people also had the normal and dumbfounded reaction to the ordinary surprises of everyday life. . "Aunt Lin, Neng Xiaoneng, can I trouble you to pack my luggage for me? It will be overnight." Neville opened the newspaper and prepared to peruse the inside pages. "Just to and fro London, but I'm not sure yet. Just a small suitcase with the essentials, not all the stuff I 'might' need. Please. Last time I had a bag in the suitcase that weighed almost a pound Digestive powder, I never use that stuff! Well, well, you're right, or I'd get an ulcer—yes, I'll be back for lunch in about ten minutes or so." "Hateful, vile and shameless pig!" spat the young poet his customary curse. "so what do you think?" "What do you think! What do you think?" "The girl's story." "What else to think? It's clearly a teenage delusion in an unbalanced puberty!" "What would you say if I told you that the girl was quite calm and ordinary, a well-regarded school girl?" "Have you seen her?" "Yes. That's why I made a trip to the Franchise last week - to be a witness when the Scotland Yard men confronted the girl with the girl. Young Neville, take your pipe Put it between your lips and suck it up, she might like to talk to you about hens and Maupassant, but when she's in trouble she comes to me." "To be their advocate?" "certainly." Navier suddenly relaxed. "That's good, I thought you didn't like her—theirs. That's great. It's okay. We can work together to fight this—" He flicked the newspaper—"The girl." Robert laughed at Neville's language. "What are you going to do, Rob?" Rob told him. "Thank you for running the office while I'm away." He saw Neville's attention return to the "girl."He looked up too, and then both of them thought the young face was looking back at them with strange composure. "It's an attractive face on the whole," said Robert. "What do you think?" "I think so," said the esthete, with his gaudy accent, "a dangerous predicament."