Chapter 11 chapter Ten

"I think you know what you're doing, honey," said Aunt Lynn, "but I really don't understand why you'd want to guard someone like that!" "I'm not 'guarding' them," said Robert patiently. "I'm representing them. And there's no evidence they're 'that kind of people.'" "There's the girl's testimony, Robert, and she won't make it up." "Really? " "What good will it do her to lie?" she said as she stepped in front of him, swapping prayer books to put on white gloves. "If she's not in the Franchise, where is she?"

Robert swallowed back the retort: ​​"You'll be surprised!" You'd better not try to argue with Aunt Lynn. She smoothed the gloves on. "If you're just taking the case because you can't bear it, dear Rob, I'd say you're out of your mind. Do you have to go to the house? They're supposed to be in your office tomorrow. It's not a rush, is it?" ? Not that anyone is going to arrest them anytime soon." "In fact, to the Franchise is what I meant. Suppose you were accused of shoplifting, and you couldn't prove your innocence. I don't think you would want to be walking the high street in broad daylight."

"I don't think I'd like it; but I'll do my best to prove my innocence. Can't you go to church with me first, and then to the Franchise? You haven't been to church for a long time, dear. "If you keep nagging on here, you'll be late for the first time in ten years.You go, remember to help me pray that my judgment is right. " "I will definitely pray for you, honey. I always pray for you. And this time, I have to endure some things, things that are not easy for me. ""you? " "Now you're defending that man and I can't talk to anybody else. It's torture, honey, sitting there and listening to it, it's like trying to throw up and holding back. Oh my God, church The bells stopped, didn't they? I'll have to squeeze into the other people's seats. They won't mind. You're not going to have lunch there, are you, dear?"

"I don't think I'll be invited." However, Robert's arrival in the Franchise was so warmly welcomed that he thought perhaps he would be left for lunch.Of course he would politely say no; not because Aunt Lynn's chicken was waiting for him at home, but because Marion Sharp would have more dishes to wash.If they are just eating by themselves, they can eat in the simplest way. "I'm sorry we refused to answer the phone last night," Marion said, apologizing again. "But after four or five times it's really annoying. And we didn't expect you to hear so soon. After all, you only started investigating on Friday afternoon."

"Is the caller a man or a woman?" "I remember it was a guy and four girls. When you called this morning, I thought it was going on again, but apparently they like to get up late. Or they don't start harassing sexually until evening. Plus we obviously give this country The youngsters provided free entertainment. They gathered inside the iron gate of the driveway and yelled like spring cats in heat. Then Neville found a wooden stick in the utility room..." "Navier?" "Yes, your nephew—I mean your distant relative. He was kind enough to pay a condolence call. He found a stick, and used it to fasten the iron gate after driving them out; you know we don't have that The key to the iron gate. Too bad it didn't last long, they cling to each other and sit on the fence and continue to harass until it's time for them to go home and sleep."

"Lack of breeding," said old Mrs. Sharp earnestly, "makes these young men not know how to respond to disturbing questions. They have absolutely no tact for it." "There's no copycat," said Robert. "But they tend to be annoying and annoying. I've got some good news, though. I know how the girl got over the wall and looked in." He told them about his visit to Tiers Wife's trip and him discovering that the girl liked to ride the bus by herself (at least that's what she said), and his next trip to Rabolo and the local bus service. "Twice during her two weeks in Mens Hill the single-decker bus on the road to Milford broke down; each time it was replaced by a double-decker bus.

You know, there are only three shifts a day on that line.And each time the bus that broke down happened to be leaving at noon, so she had at least two chances in those two weeks to see the house, the grounds, the two of you, the car, everything over the wall. "But who can see so much in a car that's just passing by?" "Have you ever been on the upper deck of a double-decker bus in the country? Even when the bus is going at a steady thirty-five miles an hour, it's as slow as a wreck to the passengers on the upper deck. Seeing farther and longer. For passengers on the lower floors, there are trees brushing against the windows, and the speed of the car appears to be faster due to the short distance.

This is one point.Another point is that the girl has a camera-like memory. ’ He told them what Mrs. Wooyin had said. "Are we going to tell the police this?" old Mrs. Sharp asked. "No. It doesn't prove anything, it just addresses how she knew about you. When she needed an excuse, she thought of you and bet you couldn't prove where you were. By the way, when you drove to In front of the door, which side of the car is near the door?" "Whether I'm driving out of the garage or back down the street, the driver's side is always next to the door because it's easier to get out of the car."

"That's right; so the side of the passenger's seat, the side with the darker front wheels, faces the iron gate," said Robert conclusively. "That's what she saw. The lawn and the driveway that divided into two in a circle, a cart with different wheels, two women - unique women - round windows in the attic under the roof. All she has to do is follow the images in her head to narrate.It's been a month since she told the story to the police—the day she claims she was kidnapped—and there's only a one in a thousand chance you'll remember exactly what you did and where you went that day. "And I thought," said the old Mrs. Sharp, "that the chances of us being able to prove what she did and where she went during that month were even more remote?"

"It's more unlikely by comparison. Like my friend Kevin McDermot said the night before, she could have gone to Sydney, New South Wales. However, I'm more confident now than I was on Friday morning. We Much has been known about the girl so far." He told them of his visits at Aylesbury and Menskew. "But if the police investigation fails to uncover what she did that month..." "The police investigation was primarily about checking her statements. They did not base them on the fact that she lied throughout, as we did. They had no particular reason to doubt the truth of the matter. She had unimpeachable praise, And what they got from her aunt was her normal teenage pastimes during her vacation, going to the movies, taking the bus into the country, etc."

"And what do you think the real side of the story is?" asked old Mrs. Sharp. "I think she was meeting somebody at Laboreau. That's the most obvious explanation anyway. I also think we should base our investigation on that." "For the hiring of a private detective," asked old Mrs. Sharp, "whom can you recommend?" "Well," said Rob, a little hesitantly, "I thought you'd let me do a little more research myself before hiring someone. I know..." "Mr. Blair," interrupted the old woman, "you have entered into this rather uncomfortable case without warning, which I can imagine would not be very willing; and you have done everything possible You've done so much for us. We can't be greedy and ask you to be a private eye for our sake. We're not rich - it's true, our savings are pitifully small - but as long as we have money, we will Will pay the right money for the right service. And asking you to do that investigative work on our behalf is inappropriate." "That's not inappropriate, really, I'm really interested in it. Believe me, Mrs. Sharp, I'm not trying to save you money. As I was driving home last night, I was thinking about what I've got so far. So proud and I know I'd be pretty discouraged if I had to give up and give it to someone else at this point. It's become a personal scramble. Please don't let me down..." "If Mr. Blair is willing to do some more research," put in Marianne, "I think we should thank him wholeheartedly and accept. I know how he feels, and I wish I could do some investigative work myself." "There is no doubt that, whether I like it or not, the investigative work will have to be handed over to professionals at some stage; Within our immediate range, I just want to do it myself." "How do you plan to proceed?" Marianne asked with interest. "Well... I want to visit places that serve light lunches first, I mean here in Labolo. One of the reasons is that there shouldn't be too many of them. Also, in the beginning, she used to use them at those places meal." "What do you mean by 'in the beginning'?" asked Marion. "When she meets our hypothetical Person A, she may go to lunch somewhere else. But until then, she's paying for it herself, and it's a casual meal. Even if she has the money, she can have a more formal meal. Well, girls that age would rather eat that fast food type of food. So I'll concentrate on visiting that kind of restaurant. I'll talk about the Ike-Emma tabloid to the waiter in a trick that country lawyers know. Reported stories, find out if they've seen the girl at their restaurant. How does that sound?" "Sounds good," said Marion. Robert turned to Mrs. Sharp. "If you still think that the professionals will be in your favour--which is quite possible--then I can bow down..." "I don't think it would be in our interest to have someone else do it," Mrs. Sharp said. "I've already expressed my gratitude to you for being so helpful. If you really want to come and track this... this..." "Muppet." Robert responded happily. "Little boy," Mrs. Sharp corrected, "then we will be obediently obedient. However, it should be noted that it may take a long time, in my opinion." "why? " "There seems to be a big gap waiting to be filled, between meeting our hypothetical SB and showing up at a home near Ellsbury in nothing but underwear and shoes and signs of a severe beating. Leanne, I think we have some sherry bars." As Marianne left the room to fetch the wine, the conversation broke off, and the old house was suddenly enveloped in silence.There were no trees in the courtyard to rustle the leaves of the wind, nor the chirping of birds.The silence was very much like the complete silence of a small town in the middle of the night.Robert wondered if, after the hustle and bustle of life in a crowded apartment, was this a rare peace, or just a frightening loneliness? They value the privacy they have, old Mrs. Sharp Friday morning Mentioned while in his office.But is this kind of life, separated by high walls and surrounded by long silence, good? "To me," said Mrs. Sharp, "the girl chose not to Franchise took some risks." "Of course she took a bet," said Robert. "She has to. But I don't think that's as incredible as you think." "Isn't it?" "No. I know what you're thinking of, for that girl. You imagine there are a lot of young people living in Franchise, and there are at least three or four maids." "yes." "But I think she's well aware that's not the case here." "How could she know?" "She could have heard it from chatting with the bus driver, or - and I think this is more likely - she overheard it from the chatter of passengers on the same bus. You can imagine them talking like this: 'Sharp live there. No maid wants to be in that remote area away from shops, cinemas...' etc.This Laballo to Milford town is a local route, and most of the passengers on the bus are local residents.Plus the route is pretty monotonous, with no houses or villages along the way.Franchise can be said to be the only focus of attention. For those who like to gossip after dinner, combining the house, the owner, and their car is almost an unavoidable topic. ""I understand r.Yes, that makes sense. " "I'd rather hope that, at some point, she got to know you guys through small talk with drivers or conductors. Because of this, someone might remember her.The girl had said she had never been to Milford, and had no idea where it was.If any driver or conductor remembers her, then we can at least prove that she lied about this. " "From what I understand, she probably blinked her childish eyes and said: 'Hey, that's Milford? I'll just catch a bus to the terminal and back'." "Yeah, maybe we won't be able to prove anything. But if I don't get some clues in Rabolo, I'll try to ask a local driver or conductor with her picture. I just hope she's someone who will at least tell people to stay." People with a little impression." There was silence between them again, each remembering Betty in unison. Ken's ordinary nature was too general to be discerned. They sat in the living room, facing the window, looking out at the blue square lawn and faded brick walls of the garden. At this moment, the iron gate on the driveway outside the house was pushed open, and then a small group of seven or eight people appeared, standing there looking this way.They talked easily to each other and pointed out to each other the purpose of their visit—the most prominent part was obviously the small round window on the top of the tail.If the Franchise had provided the country youth with Saturday night entertainment, it now appeared that Laberlo provided Sunday morning entertainment.There was evidently a car or two waiting outside the iron gate, for the women in the group wore nothing but ridiculous loafers and home clothes. Robert cast his eyes on Mrs. Sharp, and saw that she was motionless except for a slight twitch of the corners of her perpetually stern mouth. "The so-called public," she said wearily. "Should I tell them to leave?" said Rob. "That's really my fault. I didn't fasten the iron gate with that stick when I came in, Bu." "Let them go," she said. "They'll be gone in no time. It's a reprieve for those who are tired of the daily routine, and we can live with it." But that group of people seemed to have no intention of leaving.In fact, a few went around to the side of the house to check out the outbuildings; others stayed where they were when Marian returned with the sherry.Robert apologized again for not putting the stick back to bar the door.He felt really useless.It wasn't what he wanted and it wasn't what he wanted to sit there and watch these strangers prowl around as if they owned the place or came to an auction house.But if he did go out and ask them to leave, and they refused, what could he do? And if so frustrated, how would he deal with the Sharps? Smiling and gesticulating and reporting what they saw.He heard what Marianne seemed to mutter, and wondered if she was cursing.She seemed the type to swear when she got angry.She had put down the sherry she had brought in, but had evidently forgotten to pour it; it was not a polite moment, after all.He really wanted to do something decisive and amazing to please her, just like when he was fifteen years old and eagerly wanted to be a hero to save a beautiful woman, he rescued the woman he wanted in a burning building.But, thank God, he was in his forties now and knew better than to wait for the firemen to arrive. While he was hesitating like this, angry with himself and with the cruel people out there, the fireman came, a slender young man in a sorry striped suit. "Navill." Marianne exclaimed, staring intently at the outside of the house. Neville inspected the group with his most unbearable superiority, and the group seemed to recoil slightly, but then stepped forward with determination; between them was a man wearing a striped sports jacket. The man in the trousers stood up and wanted to protest. Neville watched them silently for a moment, then reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, searching for something.As he did so, the group began to react differently.Those on the periphery began to creep away unobtrusively; those nearer lost their bravado and cowered.Finally, the man in the sports jacket made a slight gesture of submission, and followed the others to escape behind the iron gate. Neville slammed the iron gate shut behind them, barred it with the stick, and walked across the drive to the house door, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his palms.Marianne ran to the door to meet him. "Navill!" Robert heard her say. "How did you do it?" "What?" Neville asked. "Get rid of those people." "Well, I just started asking for their names and addresses," Neville said. "You don't know that people get wary when you pull out your blotter and ask for your name and address. That's the modern version of: 'Fly away, it's exposed.' They don't wait to ask for your papers lest you It does. Well, Robert. Good morning, Mrs. Sharp. I was on my way to Rabolo, but I was passing here and saw the iron gates open, and there were two more obnoxious cars parked outside. So I came down to see. I didn't know Rob was here." There was no malicious implication in the tone that Robert could of course handle the situation, but it became quite ironic to Robert.Robert wanted to strangle him. "Now that you're here, and you're so skilful at helping us get rid of that harassment, you must stay for a glass of sherry," said Mrs. Sharp. "Can I wait until the return trip in the evening to come in for a drink?" Neville said. "Look, I'm on my way to lunch with my future husband-in-law, and every Sunday, like today, there's always some sort of ritual. Everyone has to attend the warm-up before." "Of course, please come in for a drink on the way back," Marion said. "We'd love to. But how are we going to know it's you? I mean because of the iron gate." She poured out a glass of sherry and handed it to Robert. "Do you know Morse code?" "Understood, but don't tell me you understand." "why? " "You don't look like a Morse code fan at all." "Well, I had the opportunity to go to sea when I was fourteen, and I was led by blazing ambition to do a lot of stupid things that are easy to do at the time. Morse code is one of them. When I arrive, I will honk your beautiful Initials. Two long, three short. I must go. I think I can bear a lunch in the palace for my meeting with you tonight." "Couldn't Rosemary help you?" asked Robert, totally resigned to his own mean and hideous side. "I don't expect that. Rosemary is a good daughter of her father's house every Sunday, becoming very unlike her. Good-bye, Mrs. Sharp. Don't let Robert drink all the sherry." "When was it," Robert heard Marianne ask as he accompanied him to the door, "you decided not to go to sea?" "By the time I was fifteen. I traded for hot-air balloons." "Theoretical, I guess." "Well, I fill the gas supply." Why did they sound so friendly, so relaxed, Robert wondered so much.It seems like they have known each other for a long time.Why would she like lightweight Neville? "And when you were sixteen?" If she had known how many things Naville had wanted to learn and then dropped, she might not have had such interest. "Won't the sherry be too strong, Mr. Blair?" asked Mrs. Sharp. "No, no, thank you, the wine is fine." Would he look sour and sullen? He pulled himself together. He glanced at the old woman cautiously, and felt that she seemed to have a hint of happiness that was hidden and imperceptible.And Mrs. Sharp's happiness was not a good sign. "I thought I'd better get out before Miss Sharp helped Neville to bolt the door," he said. "Otherwise she'll have to go to the Iron Gate again." "Won't you lunch with us? There's no ceremony with us at lunch." But Robert politely declined.He doesn't appreciate his current appearance very much, he is petty and immature, and has many shortcomings.He was going back to his usual Sunday lunch with Aunt Lynn, and he was going back to his familiar Robert Happiness Associates.Blair, that him in a world of calm, tolerance and tranquility. Neville was gone when he reached the iron gate, bringing up a gust of wind that shattered the peace of the Sabbath, and Marianne was about to close the iron gate. "I don't think the local bishop approves of his future son-in-law's vehicle," she said, following the behemoth roaring away on the road. "It was exhausting indeed," said Robert, still bitter. She smiles at him. "It's the funniest pun I've ever heard," she said. "I wish you'd stayed for lunch, but on the other hand, I'm relieved you're not here." "real? " "I tried to make a decent dish, but it didn't work. I'm a terrible cook. I followed the recipe faithfully, but never got it to look like the picture. So go back and eat you Aunt Lin's apple tart is better for you." Suddenly, illogically, Robert wished that he would agree to stay, so he could share the poorly cooked dish, and then gently laughed at her craftsmanship. "I'll let you know how I'm doing at Labolo tomorrow night," he said matter-of-factly.When he did not speak to her in the literary language of Maupassant, he kept the conversation practical. "Also, I'll be in touch with the Hallam detectives to see if I can get one of their men to come to Franchise once or twice a day - just to put on a police uniform to show off and scare off the loafers. people." "You are very thoughtful, Mr. Blair," she said. "I can't imagine how things would have turned out without you." Alas, if he can't be young and a poet, he'll be nothing but a crutch; a stupid, commonplace thing, remembered almost in an emergency, but useful, yes, very useful.