Chapter 13 Chapter Thirteen

Erica's appetite swept bread, marmalade, and several cups of tea, but there was not much news to go along with these nourishments.Although Bill is willing to know everything, it's a pity he treats Haruogai.Harry knew almost nothing.Now she has to decide whether to leave the "warm" Dimjoo and follow the unknown and mysterious Harry to the "cold" Donbridge countryside. "Most homeless people are pretty honest, don't you think?" she asked as she paid the bill. "Well," Bill said, thinking hard. "Unless the opportunity comes, if you know what I mean."

Erica understood.No bum over fifty would turn down a gift like an unattended overcoat.Haruogai.Harry certainly has a thing for coats and boots.And Harry had been to Dimjo last Tuesday.Therefore, her job is to track down the whereabouts of the porcelain repairer in the mountains and forests in the summer until she finds him.If night fell during the search, she would have to tell a convincing lie so that she could call her father in Stein and explain why she wasn't coming home. This necessity of lying oppressed her for the first time in this sacred voluntary task; never before had she had to conceal any of her plans from her father.Twice in the space of a few hours her loyalties were divided.

Last time she was unaware of her infidelity to Ding Ni; this time she was aware of it, and she was very bitter about it. Alas, never mind, it's still early anyway, and the days are long in this season.Dinney may be an old car, but it's never been sick or made a mistake.If she continued to be as lucky as she had been at the beginning, she might be able to sleep in Stein's own bed tonight as usual-with her coat!Thinking of this layer, she was so excited that she forgot to breathe. She said good-bye to sweet Bill, promised him that he would recommend his breakfast to all her friends, and turned Tinnie's car to the northwest, and drove into the hot country fields full of flowers.The road was already glaring under the shining clear sky, and the horizon ahead began to float in the heat.Ding Ni was sweating profusely in this green melting pot, and the inside of the car soon became like a hot pot.Despite her eagerness to get things done, Erica could only be patient, stopping every few miles to open the doors on both sides to let Tinnie cool off.Yes, it's really time for her to switch cars.

Near Gibbins Junction on the main road to Donbridge, she repeated the trick that had paid off for her: She parked her car and walked into a roadside shop for lunch.But this time the god of luck did not come out to receive him.The caretaker of this small shop is a hearty woman who talks about everything except the homeless.She, like women, has a hard time with uselessness, and "disapproves of people wandering around."Erica ate mouthfuls, drank her own bottled coffee, and enjoyed the temporary shade; but she got up and left soon after, to find a "better place." "Better" doesn't refer to the food, but the grapevine.With incomparable self-control, she deliberately controlled her eyes from looking at a series of green and shady tea shops beside the road, and the bright curtains shimmered in the shadows.Today is really not the time to have fun.Tea shops and homeless people don't go together.

She turned into a lane that led to Gorhurst, and began to look for an inn.The inn would always have china to repair, and now that she was in Harrogai's hometown, she must have a chance of finding someone who knew him. She had a meal of undercooked cold beef and a lettuce salad, and the dining room was as beautiful as any in Stein, and she prayed that only one of the dishes on her table was cracked of.So when the serving of canned fruit arrived in a cracked rose china bowl, she was on the verge of cheering. Yes, the waitress also agreed that the bowl was beautiful.She doesn't know if this bowl is expensive or not, she is only here as a temporary worker this season (you know, people who regard the whole world as their own territory are not interested in the value of household items). Yes, she thinks it should There are local people who come to repair their china, but she doesn't know.Okay, no problem, of course she can go and ask.

When asked who repaired such a beautiful porcelain bowl, the owner said that the bowl was bought like this, from a part-time worker near Methfield Park, and he had many of them.The master who repaired it was already very old at the time, and he may be dead now.But if Erica wanted someone to repair the china, there was a traveling merchant who came around here every now and then, and his name was Palma.When he was awake he could put things back together that had broken into fifty pieces and you couldn't see where the cracks were.But you have to make sure he's not drunk first. Erica listened to Palma's various vices and strengths, then asked him if he was the only mechanic in the area.

The boss knew only him.But the best at it was Harry. "Harry?" The name of a master.Everyone calls him Haruogai.Harry.No, the boss doesn't know where to find him. Living in a tent somewhere in the direction of Blanchley, as far as he could tell.He felt that it was not a suitable place for Erica to go alone.Harry was not what you would normally call a good citizen. Erica stepped outside, again exposed to the scorching air, excited by the news she had just heard.Harry would not leave his temporary home for days, sometimes weeks.For a small extra paycheck, he'll sit back and drink it in comfort.

Before you go to visit the china repairman, you need to prepare some broken china.Erica drives into Donbridge Spa, lamenting that her great aunt, who lives deep in Caveley Park, is not sleeping against the lure of the pastry, but out for a walk under the lime tree.Then she went into an antique shop and spent some of Cisheng's coffin books on a boring little porcelain dancing puppet.Afterwards, I drove back to Penbury, chose a small road with few people and cars in the quiet afternoon, and threw the doll on the pedals in the car indiscriminately. But this puppet is pretty solid.Even when Erica clung to its feet and rapped on the doorpost, it was still intact.At last, fearing that greater violence might smash it to pieces, she pinched one of the doll's arms with her fingers and broke it, and now she had time to go to Haruogai.Harry's pass.

It is difficult to inquire directly about a homeless man who you suspect has stolen his coat, but it is safe to ask for a china repairman, and the person being questioned will not be surprised or suspicious.It only took Erica ninety minutes to meet Haruogai.It could have been quicker, but the tent site was far from any established road; first up a cart track through the woods that even the nimble Tinnie could not cross, then through an open the gorse field, with a view of the Medway Valley in the distance; then entered a second wood, and went on to a clearing at the other end, where a brook emptied into a dark pool.

Erica wished the tent hadn't been in the woods.Since she was a child, she has always been fearless, but it is an indisputable fact that she doesn't like the woods.She likes being able to see far away.Although the stream in front of me is bright, clear and running happily under the sun, the pool in the recess is quiet, deep and difficult to get close to.This sudden and mysterious black puddle is not common in Kent. She held the doll in her hand, and just as the clearing came into view, a dog rushed out and barked hysterically at her, shattering the still air.Amidst the noise a woman came to the tent door and stood there watching Erica approach.She was a very tall woman, with broad shoulders and a high chest, and Erica had a wild feeling whether she should curtsey after walking so far to get to her.

"Good afternoon," she called cheerfully, over the drumming of the dogs. But the woman waited there without moving. "I have a piece of china - can you tell that dog to be quiet?" At this moment, she had come to her, only the barking of a dog was in the way. The woman raised a foot to touch the dog's ribs, and the barking sound that was originally passionate was immediately silenced.The murmur of water came back to my ears. Erica showed the broken porcelain doll. "Harry!" cried the woman, her dark, suspicious eyes never leaving Erica.Then Harry came to the tent door: a small, wretched weasel-like man with bloodshot eyes who was clearly at the height of his temper. "Here comes the work."I am not working right now. said Harry, spitting. "Oh, what a coincidence. I hear you're good at fixing things." The woman snatched the broken doll from Erica. "He's going to work, no problem," she said. Harry spat again and took the doll. "Do you have money for it?" he asked angrily. "How much will it cost?" "Two shillings." "Two shillings and sixpence," said the woman. "Yes, I can afford it." He went back into the tent, and the woman remained standing at the door, so Erika couldn't follow and couldn't see inside. When subconsciously imagining the situation at this moment before, she always thought that she should be in the tent—the coat was folded in the corner.But now she couldn't even poke her head in. "It took too long," said Queenie. "It takes you as long as you break a rotten branch to make a whistle, and he'll fix it." There was a rare smile on Erica's serious little face. "You think I can't do it, don't you?" Because when the woman said this, there was an air of seeing that she was a city child. She took out a knife and cut off a branch, began to chop, dig and carve, and then soaked it in the stream, hoping to eliminate the hostility between Queenie and her partner through these actions.She even hoped that the whistle-making process she performed would be associated with the art of repairing porcelain in their minds.But as soon as she moved in the direction of the tent, Queenie immediately put down her disinterested work of collecting firewood and walked back from the woods to guard.When Erica's whistle was completed, the doll was repaired and returned to her hand, but compared to when she parked the car on the side of the road just now, her gains did not increase a little.She felt like crying. She took out her pocket purse (Erica hated purses) and paid the two shillings and sixpence, and a glimpse of the inner pile of banknotes waiting to come out on a rescue mission drove her to despair.Without any warning and without knowing what to say, she asked the man in a blur: "Where's the coat you took from Dimjo?" There was a sudden silence, and Erica continued to rush in: "I don't want to take any action, I mean, like reporting on you or something. But I really want to get that coat back.If it is still in your hand, I am willing to buy it back from you. Or if you've pawned it off..." "That's awesome! "The man cursed: "Come here to find someone to help you with something, and then casually accuse him.You better get out before I get really mad before I slap your jaw out.The little one who doesn't know the heights of the world...and your nonsense tongue.I can't wait to tear it out of your stinky mouth, not only that, but also..." The woman pushed him aside and stood in front of Erica, condescending and domineering. "Why do you think my man took a coat?" "When Jack, the van driver, gave him a ride last Tuesday, he had a coat he had stolen from one of Dimjo's cars. We all know." She wanted the "us" to use Naturally, I also hope that her words will not sound as suspicious as I feel.The expressions of both of them were both innocent and angry. "But there's no need to make a fuss. We just want the coat back. I'll pay you a pound," she added hastily, as they were about to start yelling again. She saw them exchange glances.Despite being at a disadvantage, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the moment. This man was the one she was looking for.They knew which coat she was talking about. "If you've pawned it, I'll pay ten shillings too, if you tell me which pawnbroker it is." "What good is it to you?" said the woman, "what do you want a man's coat for?" "I didn't say it was a man's coat." A sense of victory ran through her like an electric shock. "Okay, pretend I didn't say it!" Queenie retorted, too lazy to continue pretending. "What do you want it for?" Had the word murder been uttered, the two men would have panicked and vehemently denied that they had anything to do with the coat.She knew this very well, thanks to what her father had told her at length from experience, that a thief was always afraid of a felony.Getting involved in criminal cases related to capital crimes, even if the involvement is shallow, is what they would avoid. "To save Hart some trouble," she said: "He shouldn't have left the car unattended on the side of the road. The master will be back tomorrow, and if the coat is not found by then, Hart will lose his errand. "Who's Hart?" The woman asked, "Is your brother?" " "No. Our full-time driver." "Driver!" Harry let out a piercing and strange laugh, and there was not much happiness in it. "That's wonderful. I think you have about two Rolls-Royces and five Bentleys." His little red eyes wandered over Erica's shabby and ill-fitting clothes. "No. Just a Lanchester, and my own old Morris." Seeing their disbelief growing, "My name is Erica Burgoyne. My father is the Chief of Police." "Is that so? My name is John Rockefeller, and my father is the Duke of Wellington." Erika lifted up her tweed skirt, tugged on the elastic of the track shorts she wore year-round, and with her thumbs slid out a small section of the inside of the shorts to show him. "You can read?" she said. "Erica. M. Burgoyne." The man read out the words on a cashmere label with red eyes in surprise. "It's not good to be too paranoid," she said, letting the elastic snap back into place. "So you're doing this for a driver, right?" Harry squinted at her, trying to redeem himself. "You seem very concerned about the driver's life, don't you?" "I love him so much," said Erica in the tone of "one more match, thank you." Erica has always been in charge of pulling the curtain on the school drama performance. But it passed smoothly.The two of them were so busy calculating in their hearts that they didn't have time to pay attention to whether her emotions were expressed correctly. "How much?" said the woman. "Change your coat back?" "No. Tell you where to find a coat." "As I said, I'll give you ten shillings." "not enough.". . "How do I know you're going to tell me the truth?" "How do we know you're telling the truth?" "Well, I'll just give you a pound. I'll have to go to the pawnshop to redeem it, you know." "Not in the pawn shop," the man said. "I sold it to a stone breaker." "Wh-what?" Erica cried out in despair, "So I have to start looking for another person again?" "Oh, don't look for it, don't look for it at all. You hand over your money and I'll show you where to find this fellow." Erica pulled out a one pound note to show him. "and then? " "He works at Fife's Junction near Pedalwood. If he's not there, he lives in a farmhouse on the Cape. Next to the church." She handed over the banknotes.But at this moment the contents of the wallet have been seen by the woman. "Wait a minute, Harry! She needs to pay more." He said and immediately blocked Erica's way to the woods. "I wouldn't pay a dime more," Erica snapped.Anger made her disregard the nearby black pool and the boundless silence, and also made her overcome her aversion to the woods. "You don't keep your word." The woman reached for her purse; but Erica had just played lacrosse for the school last winter.Queenie's castrated hand actually missed, only touched Erica's other arm, and unexpectedly bounced up and hit her face hard.Then Erica skirted her tall frame and ran across the glade in a flash, the fruit of countless winter afternoons. She heard their voices chasing after her, and she was worried about what would happen to her if they caught her.She wasn't afraid of that woman, but that man was small and light, and he might run very fast after drinking so much alcohol.And he is familiar with these mountain roads.In places where there were tree shadows under the bright sun, she could hardly see the way at all.I wish she had just said that someone was waiting in the car.In this case, it would be - her foot tripped over a tree root, and she rolled on the ground several times. She heard his footsteps on the soft mountain road, and as soon as she sat up, she saw his face rising and falling on the grass, getting closer and closer.It looks like it will be overtaken in a few seconds.She fell so hard because she was still holding something in both hands.She quickly checked what was in her hand.In one hand was the china doll, and in the other her purse and--the whistle!Seeing it was a whistle, she immediately put it in her mouth and blew out a series of rhythmic whistles.Long and short, like signaling.The man stopped at the whistle, only a few yards away from her, not knowing what was happening. "Hart!" she yelled with all her mighty lung capacity. "Hart!" Then blow the whistle again. "Okay," said the man, "Okay! Go with your—Hart. Someday I'll tell you the old man what's going on in his house.I promise you won't pay me a few quid when the time comes, my lady! "Goodbye," Erica said. "Say to your wife for me and thank her for the whistle." "