Chapter 2 Chapter Two Doors

That night, the fire was blazing, and Dr. Phil was located in the study of Brothers' mansion at No. 1 High Terrace Street. There was a relaxed and harmonious atmosphere. The doctor with a red face was sitting high on his large, comfortable and old chair.The stuffing of the chair, worn down to the point of denting and cracking, was incomparably comfortable, but enough to piss off housewives who were wives.At the moment the doctor is chuckling softly, his cane is tapped on the carpet, and his black satin glasses are full of smiles, and he is in a very happy mood.When friends visit, Dr. Phil always entertains them in the name of celebration;And tonight, there were just two excuses for him to drink and have fun.

In one, his young friends Ted and Dorothy Rimbaud visit from America in high spirits.The second is his good friend Hadley - don't forget, he is now Director Hadley of the Metropolitan Police Department's Criminal Division - who has just shown his talents and cracked Bethwater's forged documents case, and is currently on leave It's easy.On one side of the fire sat Ted Rimbaud, on the other Hadley, and the Doctor sat in the middle chief, with a steaming punch bowl in front of it.Upstairs, Mrs. Phil, Mrs. Hadley, and Mrs. Rimbaud are chatting about family matters; while downstairs, Mrs. Phil and Hadley are already arguing about something, no wonder Ted Rimbaud thought he was still sitting in his own home.

Ted nestled lazily in the chair, and the clouds and smoke of the past flooded his mind instantly.Sitting across from him, Hadley, the director of the Criminal Division, with a neat mustache and iron-gray hair, was smoking a pipe while talking and laughing; while the host, Dr. Phil, was rumbling and shaking his wine spoon. The two seem to be at loggerheads over crimes against science, especially "photography."Rimbaud recalled that he had heard the same argument before, but that only elicited a laugh from the criminal officer.Once, Dr. Phil's old friend, Bishop Mambohan, saw the doctor hurriedly chasing after an old-fashioned bicycle, so he took advantage of the doctor's momentary distraction to lure him to watch a bunch of Gross, Jesse Ricky , Mitchell and other people's photographic works; in this regard, he was greatly shocked.Now, thank goodness, Dr. Phil's head is no longer just filled with scientific experiments.But he still has a little interest in chemical research. Fortunately, he would just break the instrument just before starting the experiment. Therefore, except for burning the curtains with an alcohol lamp, no serious damage has been caused. .But he was very successful (as he said) in photography.The equipment he bought is absolutely unambiguous, including Daifeng Teer’s brand-name microscope camera, coupled with professional achromatic lenses, and the studio is also arranged like an X-ray room for checking stomach diseases. In addition, he also claimed to have mastered Dr. Gross's wonderful recipe for reading writing on burnt paper.

With Hadley's teasing words still in his ears, Rimbaud let his mind wander lazily.He saw the fire reflected on the crooked book wall, and he heard the sound of fine and dense snow falling on the window panes, sounding from behind the crumpled curtains.He grinned all over in relief.In this perfect world, nothing can bother him, can it?As his eyes wandered, he stared at the stove.However, in this carefree and beautiful moment, some trivial memories seemed to jump out of a magic box and broke into his thoughts unexpectedly. crime!of course not.It was because Mangen himself was too obsessed with the fishy incident that he exaggerated the story so much.It's the way things are...

"I don't care what Gross said," Hadley patted the back of his chair and said, "Generally people always think that a person who is specialized in learning is right in everything. In fact, in most cases, the burnt Letters usually don't reveal anything..." Rimbaud cleared his throat slowly, and said: "Ask me, how do you feel when you hear the words 'three coffins'?" The atmosphere froze suddenly, but Rimbaud was not surprised at all.Hadley looked at him suspiciously; Dr. Fell stared at the spoon in bewilderment, as if thinking the words were cigarettes or the name of a tavern, and then his eyes flickered again.

"Hey," the doctor rubbed his hands together, "Hey hey hey! You're asking this question just to ease the atmosphere, huh? Could it be the truth? What kind of coffin?" "Well," said Rimbaud, "maybe it's not a crime..." Hadley whistled.Rimbaud went on: "But it's a very strange thing, unless Mangan is too far-fetched. I know Boyd Mangan very well, he lived on the other side of town for several years, and he is a very good man people, traveled all over the world, and had a full-blown Celtic imagination." He stopped, and Mangan's dark, unkempt, and even dissolute handsome appearance appeared in his mind; although his personality was easily excitable, his demeanor was meek and gentle, his mind was quite bold and generous, and his smile was kind and heartwarming.

"He now works for the Evening Bulletin in London. I met him in Haymarket this morning and he pulled me into a pub and told me the story straight away. Then," Rimbaud's tone changed to flattery. , "When he knew I knew the great Dr. Phil—" "Nonsense!" Hadley's voice suddenly sounded, and he looked sharply at Rimbaud, "Say something serious." "Hey hey," said Dr. Phil in a rather pleasant voice, "don't interrupt, okay, Hadley? That sounds like fun, kid. And then?" "Well, Mangan seems to admire a writer or speaker named Grimaud very much, and he is also deeply in love with Grimaud's daughter, which makes him admire that senior even more. This senior and some of his friends are used to the British A party in a tavern near the museum. A strange thing happened one night a few days ago, which frightened Mangan more than seeing a person suddenly go insane. At that time, the elder was mentioning that the dead body would Funny talk about getting up and leaving the cemetery, and all of a sudden a tall, weird-looking guy walks in and starts babbling nonsense about how he and his brother were able to escape the grave and float in the air like straw. (Listen At this point, Hadley makes an objectionable noise and ceases to listen attentively, but Dr. Phil is still watching Rimbaud with interest.) In fact, this person seems to be aimed at Professor Grimaud. Before leaving, the stranger threatened that his brother would come to visit Grimaud soon. The strange thing is that although Grimaud was as calm as an old monk at the moment, Mangan dared to swear on his chest. In fact, the professor was already frightened. Turned blue."

Hadley snorted: "It's hard for you to understand, but what's the big deal? Some people are just born to be bitches—" "That's the point," bellowed Dr. Phil, glaring. "Because he's not that kind of guy. I know Grimaud well. If you know Grimaud, Hadley, you'll understand that." How strange it was. Well, aha, go on, boy, how did it turn out?" "Grimaud didn't say anything. In fact, he just quickly passed it off with a joke, and completely resolved this inexplicable accident. Not long after the weirdo left, a street musician was leaning on the tavern At the door, "Crazy Boy on the High Swing" was played, and for a while, Mangan's group burst into laughter, and everyone came to their senses. Grimaud said with a smile: "So, gentlemen , that resurrected corpse must be more agile than that arrogant boy, otherwise how could it fall from my study window?'

"That's it, everyone adjourned. But Mangan, driven by curiosity, was eager to know who this 'Pierre Frey' was. The name of a theater was printed on the business card Frey left for Grimaud. So the next day, Mangan pretended to be an interview with the newspaper and started to trace the line. He found that this theater in a poor area in the east end of London was just an inconspicuous and defunct concert hall, performing vaudeville every night. Mangan didn't want to meet Foyle, so he first talked to the person who watched the tickets, and then through his recommendation, he got to know the stunt performer who was ranked ahead of Foyle. This stuntman called himself 'Pa Lord Gritch'—God knows why, for he was very clever, and Irish through and through. He told Mangan all he knew.

"In the theater everyone called Foyle 'Loony'. No one knew where he came from; he never talked to anyone and always left in a hurry after every performance. But—the point Come on, he is a top-notch master. The stuntman said that he couldn't figure out that the ticket agent in the West End would ignore his existence. Foyle must be too lacking in ambition. What he is good at is a superior Magic thaumaturgy, special escape techniques..." Hadley grunted mockingly. "No," Rimbaud said with certainty, "as far as I know, it's not just an old-fashioned trick. Mangan told me that Foyle didn't have an assistant to help him when he came on stage, and he brought all the props into the coffin together." Big box. If you have any concept of magic show, you will know what a special trick it is. In fact, this person seems to be particularly fascinated by things like coffins. King Pagridge once asked Foyle why , Unexpectedly, the answer surprised him. Frey grinned and said, "Three of us were buried alive, and only one managed to escape." King Pagridge asked again: "Then how did you escape?" ' replied Foyle calmly. 'I failed. You know, I was one of those who didn't.'"

Hadley tugged at his earlobe, and now he was serious. "Well," he said, in a very disturbed voice, "it might be a little more serious than I imagined. The guy must be crazy, he can't be wrong. If there is any gratuitous resentment in his heart-you say he's a foreigner? I might It's time to call the Home Office and send someone to watch him. Also, if he's going to mess with your friend..." "Has he caused any trouble?" asked Dr. Phil. Rimbaud moved his sitting position. "Since Wednesday, in every shift of mail, there are always some letters of unknown origin, addressed to Professor Grimaud. Every time he receives them, he doesn't say a word, but just shreds the letters. But, Someone told his daughter what had happened in the tavern, and she began to worry. At last, yesterday, Grimaud behaved strangely." "What's the matter?" Dr. Phil asked, the palms that had been covering the eyes just now moved away, and the small eyes stared straight at Rimbaud. "He called Mangan yesterday and said: 'Come to my house on the weekend night. Someone threatened to come and visit me.' Of course, Mangan suggested that he inform the police, but Ge Jingmo ignored it completely. Mangan Root went on to say, "No way! Professor, this man is completely crazy, he may be a dangerous guy. Don't you take some defensive measures to protect yourself?" The professor actually replied: "Oh, yes, good idea. I Gotta hurry up and buy a painting.'” "A picture of what?" Hadley sat up straight and asked. "A painting hanging on the wall. No, I'm not kidding. He actually went and bought a painting, a landscape or something, with some weirdly shaped trees and tombstones in it, and it was huge, It took two workers to lift it up the stairs. I say 'terribly large' with an understatement, because I haven't seen it with my own eyes. The painting is by an artist named Burnaby, who is A member of the tavern party and an amateur criminologist... In short, Grimaud is going to protect himself with oil paintings." Hadley's face was full of suspicion, he looked directly at Rimbaud, and repeated what he had just heard, with a slightly excited tone, and then they both turned their heads to look at Dr. Phil at the same time.The doctor sat upright, panting slightly with his lips hanging over his double chin, his matted hair was rumpled, and his hands were clutching his cane.He nodded, staring at the fire, and then he spoke in a voice that seemed to add a little chill to the room. "Do you know the address of that place, boy?" His voice was deadpan. "Excellent. Hadley, you'd better go warm up." "Okay, but listen to me—" "When you hear a so-called lunatic threatening a sane person," Dr. Phil nodded again, and continued, "you may feel uneasy, or you may not be moved. But when a sane person, When I start acting like a lunatic, I know for sure I'm going to be terribly upset. Maybe nothing will happen, but I just don't like it." He stood up and gasped, "Come on, Hadley, let's go over there as if it were a patrol." The icy cold wind blew through the narrow Brother Gaotai Street, and the snow had stopped falling.Looking around, the streets and alleys are so white that it feels unreal, and even the embankment garden is as white as a picture. The Riverside Boulevard, which is deserted during theater performance hours, is now full of chaotic tracks rolled by vehicles as they roll forward.The clock showed that it was five past ten when they turned into Oldwych.Hadley said nothing in the car, his coat collar turned up.Under the urging of Dr. Phil, the speed of the car was getting faster and faster. Hadley first glanced at Rimbaud, and then at the doctor who was crowded in the back seat. "That's ridiculous, you know," he added, after a pause. "It's none of our business. Besides, if any visitors did show up, they'd probably have left by now." "I know," Dr. Phil said, "that's what worries me." At this time, the car quickly flashed into the Southampton area.Hadley honked the horn as if expressing his feelings, but the car continued to pick up speed.The streets lined with buildings on either side were rather desolate, but the road leading to Russell Square was even more desolate.On the west side of the road, there are only a few footprints.The tracks of the tires are almost hard to find.If you see the phone booth at the north end just after Cap Street, you'll immediately see the house directly opposite it, even if you don't pay special attention.In front of him, Rimbaud saw a three-story mansion with a simple and plain facade. The first floor was built on dark brown stones and covered with red bricks.Outside there were six flights of steps leading to the door, which had brass trim, a long, thin letter-drop, and a brass knob.At this moment, only two windows behind the shutters on the first floor can be seen, shining light on the light well, other than that, the whole place is plunged into darkness.An ordinary house in an ordinary place - but not anymore. Right now a shutter was cracked and hung beside it, and a patch of lighted windows was blown away as if they were nothing more than a sham.A figure sprawled on the windowsill, passing through the snapping shutters, hesitated, then jumped down.In this jump, although he jumped a long way over a row of railings, one leg also fell on the sidewalk, immediately slid into the snowdrift, and rushed out of the curb of the street, and was about to be run over by a car. Hadley slammed on the brakes and the car slid to a halt beside the curb.He rushed out of the car immediately and grabbed the man before he could stand up.Then Rimbaud caught a glimpse of the man's face in the headlights of the car. "Mangan!" he said, "what the hell is going on..." Mangan didn't wear a hat or even a coat. His arms and palms were covered with snowflakes like small mirrors, and his eyes were shining as if reflecting each other. "Who is it?" he demanded hoarsely. "No, no, I'm fine! Let me go, fuck!" He wrenched himself away from Hadley and slapped his top with his hands. "Who's... It's Ted! Please, get some people. You go, hurry up, he's got us locked up - there's a gunshot upstairs, we heard it all just now. He locked us in Inside, look..." Looking behind Mangan, Rimbaud saw a black silhouette of a woman by the window.Hadley hastily cut off the ramblings. "Calm down! Who kept you in there?" "It's Foyle. He's still inside. We heard gunshots, but the door is too thick to break through. Well, would you like to help?" Before he finished speaking, Mangan had already run towards the main entrance steps, followed by Hadley and Rimbaud.When Mangan twisted the doorknob and exerted all his strength, the door swung open, and the two people behind him were surprised that the front door was not locked.The large hallway inside the house was rather dark, the only light coming from a lamp on a table at the back.Moreover, there seemed to be something standing there, staring straight at them, with a look on its face that was weirder and more terrifying than the Pierre Frey they had imagined.At this time, Rimbaud finally saw clearly that it was a Japanese samurai armor with a devil mask.Mangan rushed to the door on the right in a panic, and turned the key in the lock.The door opened from the room, and inside was the girl by the window they had seen earlier.Mangen couldn't help but reach out and hug her into his arms.It was too late and then quickly, and there was another loud bang upstairs. "Don't worry, Boyd!" Rimbaud shouted, his heart beating violently, as if it was going to jump out of his throat. "This is Superintendent Hadley, I told you about him. Where's the sound coming from? What's that thing?" Mangan pointed toward the stairs. "Come up, I'll take care of Rosette. He's still upstairs, and he can't get out. For God's sake, everyone, be careful!" They climbed the heavily carpeted stairs, and Mangan took a crude weapon from the wall.The second floor was pitch black and there was no sound.But lights shone down from the staircase alcove leading to the third floor, and now the noise changed to a series of booming crashes. "Professor Grimaud!" cried a voice, "Professor Grimaud! Call me back, will you?" Rimbaud had no intention of savoring the gloomy and foreign atmosphere around him.He simply followed Hadley up the second flight of stairs, through the archway, and into a hallway that spanned the entire width of the house.This corridor is rectangular, and the four walls are made of oak, fully inlaid with paneling to the ceiling; on the long side wall facing the staircase, there are three curtained windows; The sound of footsteps is muffled; there is a door on each short side wall, and the two face each other.The door on the left, farther from them, was open, while the door on the right, just ten feet from the landing, was tightly closed, and someone was banging on the panel with his fist. When their steps approached, the man suddenly turned around.Although there were no lighting fixtures in the corridor, the yellow light from the stair alcove—from the belly of the large brass Buddha statue in the alcove—was enough for them to see everything in front of them: a small man loomed over the sky. In the light, he was out of breath and waved vaguely.He had a big head, with shaggy hair and fangs like a goblin, and a pair of big glasses on his face, and the eyes behind the frames were gazing at them. "Is that Boyd?" the man yelled. "Or Drayman? Is that you? Who's standing there?" "Policemen." said Hadley, striding across while the man leaped back. "You can't get in," said the short man, crackling at the knuckles of his fingers. "But we must go in. The door is locked from the inside, and there are men and Grimaud inside. There was a shot just now—he didn't answer. Where's Mrs. Dummer? Get her quickly! I tell you, then The guy's still in there!" Hadley couldn't help turning around and cursing. "Be quiet! Get a set of pliers somewhere. The key is now in the lock on the inside, and we have to turn it from the outside. I need a pair of pliers, do you have any?" "I... I don't know..." Hadley looked at Rimbaud. "Go downstairs and get the toolbox in my car, it's under the back seat. Get the smallest pliers you can, and bring back some big screw pliers, in case this guy has a weapon—" As soon as Rimbaud turned around, he saw Dr. Phil appearing through the archway, panting.The doctor didn't speak, but his complexion was not as rosy as before.Rimbaud flew down three steps at a time, but he wasted a lot of time looking for the pliers, which made people anxious for hours.When he hurried back to the mansion, he heard Mangan's voice in the closed room downstairs, and the girl was also screaming hysterically... Still calm, Hadley calmly inserted the pliers lightly into the keyhole, clamped it firmly, and began to turn to the left. "There's something moving in there—" said the little man. "It's done," said Hadley, "back off!" He put on his gloves, gave a boost, and pushed the door inwards hard.As a result, the swinging door slammed back against the wall with a loud knock, and the high-hanging tree chandelier in the room was also crumbling.There was no message, although it seemed like something was trying to get a message out.Otherwise, the bright room was deserted.The so-called something crawled painfully across the black carpet, then stopped, turned over, and finally remained completely still. Rimbaud saw a pool of blood on it.