Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Guy Fawkes Visits

"Of course, we now know it wasn't Pettis," said Mangan, unhappily lighting the girl's cigarette. "Pettis was only five feet four inches tall. It doesn't sound like his voice. Although the person's greetings and words of speech are the usual patterns of Pettis..." "However, when you saw him, didn't you find it strange at all? Even an expert collector of ghost stories doesn't have to dress up as 'Gay of November 5th,' does it? Could it be that he likes to pull such pranks?" Dr. Phil asked, frowning. A surprised expression appeared on Rosette Grimaud's face again.She was motionless with the cigarette in her hand, as if a gun was aimed at her, but then she turned sharply to stare at Mangan.When she turned back again, a strange light flashed in her eyes, and she took a deep breath in her chest, as if there was resentment, complaints, or a sigh of relief.It seemed that the two of them had communicated something, but Mangan was more embarrassed than her. His expression seemed to be that of a good young man trying to be kind to others.Rimbaud had a feeling that Pettis had absolutely nothing to do with this secret view between the two men, for Mangan stammered for a while before answering Dr. Fell's question.

"A prank?" he repeated, fiddling with his bristly black hair nervously. "Oh, Pettis? My God, no way! He's a man who's admittedly serious enough to even be critical. But, you know, we didn't see his face. That's the way it was. After dinner, we stayed The room off the front corridor—” "Wait!" interposed Hadley. "Is the door to the corridor open?" "No, completely closed," Mangan said defensively, then changed his tone quickly, "you don't close the door and open it to ventilate the room on a snowy night, you wouldn't do that without central heating ...I know very well that if the doorbell rings, we must hear it. And—to tell the truth, we did not expect the accident at all. At dinner, the professor's behavior gave us the impression that it was all a hoax. Man's tricks, even this has been settled; after all, he doesn't seem to take it seriously at all..."

Yi Deli stared at him sternly and vigilantly, and then said: "Miss Grimaud, do you feel the same way?" "Yeah, so to speak... I don't know! It's hard to tell," she replied a little angrily (or naysayer?), "whether he was genuinely concerned, or just taking it as a prank, or even if these reactions It's all pretend, anyway, my dad had a weird sense of humor and he loved drama. He always treated me like a kid, and he never panicked in front of me in my lifetime, so I I don't know exactly how. But in the past three days, his behavior has suddenly become extremely abnormal, so when Boyd told me about a man in the tavern..." She shrugged.

"How abnormal is his behavior?" "Well, say, muttering to himself; or suddenly falling into a fit of rage over a trifle--he rarely does--and then laughing out loud. Mostly, though, it's about the letters. Every time the postman delivers letters these days, there are letters like that. Don't ask me what they are, he burns them all. They are all in plain cheap envelopes. If he hadn't noticed a change in his receiving habits Now, I probably won't notice anything." She hesitated. "Perhaps you can understand that. My father was a man of integrity. He would not hide a letter just received from your face without you knowing what it was or who sent it. He always Will say aloud: 'Damn liar', 'You cheeky bastard', or say affectionately: 'Oh, well, it's the same old tune again', his voice is always full of unexpected surprises, As if expecting someone who used to live in Liverpool or Birmingham to suddenly be on the other side of the moon. I don't know if you understand..."

"We understand. Please continue." "However, these days, when he received those letters or something, he was silent, completely unmoved. And, all this time, he never destroyed the letters in front of everyone, but yesterday at breakfast An exception occurred when he read the letter quickly, crumpled it up suddenly, got up from his seat, and walked thoughtfully to the fireplace to throw it in. At that moment , ah—" Rosette quickly glanced at Hadley, she seemed to realize her hesitation, and then panicked. "Er... Mrs... Ma'am... Well, I mean Aunt Ernestine! At that moment she asked him if he wanted some more bacon. But he turned sharply, screaming: 'Go Die!' This is so horrifying to us! And before we have recovered our sanity, he has stalked away, muttering something in his mouth: 'A man just can't ask for a little quiet!' He looks so vicious That day, he brought the painting back. At this time, he was the same humorous person again. He was so excited that he was so happy that he giggled, and he also helped the taxi driver and several others Carry the painting upstairs. I don't want you to think that..." Apparently, many memories were rushing into Rosette's chaotic thoughts; she began to meditate, but the more she thought about it, the more flustered she became.She went on tremblingly, "I don't want you to think I hate him."

Hadley had no time to pay attention to personal feelings, he said: "Did he mention the man at the tavern?" "I asked about it, but he just answered casually. He said that those people were just those unscrupulous people who were dissatisfied with his mocking the history of magic and often came to threaten him. Of course, I know that things are not that simple." "Why, Mademoiselle Grimaud?" For a while she looked directly at him without blinking. "Because I feel that the other party is playing for real. And I often wonder if something happened in my father's past personal history that may one day cause such incidents."

This answer is very straightforward.There was a long silence, and they could hear the muffled crack of the roof and heavy, smooth footsteps.But the expression on her face is cloudy and cloudy, just like the fire light on her face is constantly changing, fear, resentment, pain or even doubt, take turns to play; the wild illusion has returned, as if the mink coat on her should be It is leopard skin with muscle.She crossed her legs and squirmed back in the chair in a very provocative pose.Her face was slanted against the back of the chair, so that the fire could only see her throat and half-closed eyes.She smiled stiffly, her eyes fixed on everyone, her high cheekbones accentuated by the shadows.Rimbaud could see that she was still shaking.For some reason, her face suddenly seemed to widen a lot.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Hadley looked slightly surprised. "Cause trouble? I don't quite understand. What reason do you have for speculating like that?" "Oh, no! Actually, I don't really think so. It's just this kind of weird thing..." The words of denial came out of my mouth, but the big ups and downs of my chest before had calmed down now. "Maybe it's caused by my father's hobby. My mother...she has passed away, when I was young, it is said that she has super vision." Rosette raised her hand again cigarette. "However, what you want to ask me is..."

"First of all, I want to find out what happened tonight. If you think that tracing your father's past will help the case, our police station can definitely follow your suggestion." She pulled the cigarette away from her lips. "However," said Hadley's voice maintaining a steady tone, "let's begin with what Mr. Mangan has just described. After dinner you two come into the living room and close the door to the corridor. Well, Has Professor Grimaud ever told you that at some point a malicious person might come to your door?" "Well... yes." Mangan said.He took the handkerchief he had just pulled out and wiped his forehead violently.His face was thin, with sunken cheeks and sharp edges. Now under the light of the fire, when viewed from the side, it can be seen that there are many small fine lines on his forehead. "That's why I didn't immediately think who it was. He came too early. The professor told me it was ten, but the guy was there at nine forty-five."

"Ten o'clock sharp, I see. Are you sure that's what he said?" "Well... that's right! At least I think so, about ten o'clock. Rosette, isn't it?" "I don't know, he didn't tell me anything." "I see. . . Go on, Mr. Mangan." "We had the radio on, which wasn't right because it was pretty loud. We were playing cards in front of the fireplace. As I said, I heard the doorbell ring and looked up at the clock on the fireplace. It was Nine forty-five. I got up as soon as I heard the door open, and then I heard Mrs. Dumer's voice, which seemed to say, 'Wait, I'll report', and then there seemed to be a sudden force. door closing. I asked loudly, 'Hi! Who's that?' But the radio was too loud, so I went over and turned it off. That's when I heard Pettis reply (of course we both Think it's Pettis), 'Hello, kids! I'm Pettis. What's the fuss about meeting our boss? I'm going to go straight upstairs and make trouble with him .'"

"He really said that?" "Yes. He's always called Mr. Grimaud 'Boss,' which no one but him dares to call; but there's Burnaby, who calls the Professor 'Father. . !' There was no doubt at all. Then we sat down again. But I noticed that the time was getting closer to ten o'clock, and I began to raise my guard. As the clock ticked closer to ten o'clock..." Hadley made a mark in the margin of his notebook. "So, that man who called himself Pettis," he mused, "talked to you through the door, but didn't come to see you? Have you ever wondered how he knew you two were in the room? " Mangan frowned. "I guess he saw us through the window. From the window by the front steps, you can see the living room. I often look in there myself. In fact, every time I see someone in the living room, I'm used to going over and knocking on the window instead of ringing the doorbell." The criminal director was still busy making a summary, looking thoughtful.He still seemed about to ask a question, but then held back.Rosette stared at him with watchful eyes.Hadley concluded by saying only: "Go on. You're waiting for ten o'clock to come—" "Nothing happened," insisted Mangan, "and yet, absurdly, every minute that passed after ten o'clock made me more tense, not more relaxed. As I said, I didn't I don't think that person will come, and I don't expect any trouble. However, I keep imagining the dark and gloomy corridor, and the strange suit of samurai armor and mask, and thinking about it, I feel more and more creepy..." "I understand you," said Rosette, looking at him in great astonishment. "I had the same thought in my heart at the time, but I didn't want to say it out, lest you laugh at me as a fool." "Oh, I used to be so nervous," Mangan said embarrassedly, "that's why I often get fired. This time I probably will be fired, who told me I didn't call back to report tonight What the hell, tell those news editors to die, I am not a villain who betrays my friends." He turned back to the topic: "Anyway, at about ten past ten, I couldn't hold back anymore. I Throwing the cards down heavily, and said to Rosette: "Well, let's go get something to drink, and then turn on all the lights in the corridor-something to do anyway." I was about to ring the bell for Anne, and this Only then did I realize that today is Saturday, and she will definitely go out tonight..." "Annie? The waitress? By the way, I almost forgot about her. Then?" "I tried to open the door, only to find it was locked from the outside. It felt like... say you have something prominent in your bedroom, like a mural or something, because it's so familiar, So I never looked carefully. But one day you walked into the room and suddenly felt vaguely that there was something strange in the bedroom. You felt disturbed because you couldn't think of what was wrong. Suddenly, a blank popped into Come on, you're surprised that something like that has been removed. See, that's how I feel. I know something's wrong, and it's been creeping up in me ever since that guy walked down the hallway, But it wasn't until I realized that the door was locked that I woke up. So I started turning the doorknob like crazy, and then the gunshots rang out. "The gunfire echoed in the house, causing such a great noise that we could hear it clearly even from a distance from the attic. Rosette screamed—" "I didn't!" "Then she faced me and said what I had been thinking. She said: 'That's definitely not Pettis, 'he' has come in.'" "Can you determine when it happened?" "Okay, it was exactly ten past ten. Then, I tried to break down the door." Although immersed in the memory, a sarcasm still flickered in Mangan's eyes.It seems that he is unwilling to talk about it, but he can't help criticizing it. "Have you ever noticed how easy it is to break through a door in the novels and stories we have read! Those storylines are simply the paradise that carpenters yearn for most. As long as the problem of doors is encountered, it is always casual It can be knocked away for a simple reason, so easily and quickly that the people in the room have no time to respond. But, you really came to bump it! It was terrible! I bumped it with my shoulder for a long time, It suddenly occurred to me that I could climb out of the window, and then come in through the main entrance or the basement. Then I met you, and you all know the subsequent development.” Haddock tapped his pen on his notebook. "Mr. Mangan, isn't the front door usually unlocked?" "My God, I didn't know! But it was the only way I could think of. Anyway, the front door was really unlocked." "Well, it's unlocked. Miss Grimaud, do you have anything to add?" The girl's eyelids droop. "No... But it's not nothing. Everything that Boyd just described is exactly what happened tonight. But as long as it's strange, you are all interested, right? Even if they may have nothing to do with the case, it doesn't matter. Right? Here's something that might not be relevant, but I'll tell you anyway... Not long before the doorbell rang, I went to get a cigarette from the table between the two windows, and as Boyd said, the radio was on .But I do hear from the street outside, or the sidewalk outside the main entrance, a heavy crashing sound from a height. You know, it's not a normal street noise, it's like It was the loud noise of people falling." Rimbaud felt himself beginning to squirm again.Hadley asked: "You mean, a thump? Hmm. Did you poke your head out to see what it was?" "Looked, but I didn't see anything. Of course, I just opened the blinds and looked out, but I can swear the street is empty—" She stopped completely suddenly, her lips slightly Open, eyes fixed. "Oh my God!" "Well, Miss Grimaud," Hadley said without changing his tone, "as you say, the shutters are all drawn down. As Mr. Mangan got caught in the shutters when he jumped out of the window, I especially noticed that This. And because of that, I wonder how the visitor, looking through the window into the living room, saw you? Could the blinds have not been lowered in the first place?" Then, except for a slight sound from the roof, the scene was silent for a while.Rimbaud glanced casually, and saw Dr. Phil leaning against an unbreakable door, with his chin resting on his hands, and his shovel hat obliquely pressing on his eyebrows.Rimbaud looked at the expressionless Hadley again, and then returned his gaze to the girl. "He thinks we're lying, Boyd," said Rosette Grimaud icily, "and I don't think we'd better say nothing more." Then Hadley smiled. "I don't think so, Miss Grimaud. I'll tell you why. Because you're the only one who can help us, and I'm even going to tell you what actually happened... Phil!" "Ah?" Dr. Phil's voice was high, obviously startled. "Listen," said the Chief Criminal, sullenly, "it wasn't long ago that you said, with cryptic gusto, that you believed what Mills and Mrs. Dumo said--of course they were all incredible things; Besides, you still refuse to explain why you believe it. I will pay you back now. What I want to say is that I not only believe the story of Mills and others, but also believe the story of this young man and woman. But I will Explaining why I believe it will also explain the supposedly impossible phenomena." At this moment, Dr. Phil finally came to his senses suddenly.He puffed out his cheeks and stared at Hadley as if ready to take a fight. "I have to admit, I can't explain everything," Hadley said, "but that's enough to narrow down the suspects to a few people and solve the mystery of the lack of footprints in the snow." "Oh, that!" Dr. Fell gasped with contempt and relief. "For a moment, I really expected something from you. But about that part, the answer is obvious!" Hadley tried to suppress his anger. "The man we're after," he went on, "has left no footprints on the sidewalk or the doorstep because he hasn't walked any of them since the snow stopped. He's been in the house the whole time. He has lived in this house. There are two possibilities: 1. He lived in this house; , can explain the contradictions in the various statements. He waited in the house until the right time came, then put on those strange clothes, then walked to the cleaned steps outside the door, and pressed the doorbell. This explains how, with the shutters drawn, he knew that Miss Grimaud and Mr. Mangan were in the living room, because he saw them go in. It also explains how, in Dublin After Mrs. Mo asked him to wait outside and slammed the door in his face, why was he able to easily enter the house—because he had the key." Dr. Fell shook his head slowly and grunted.He folded his arms and looked like he couldn't spit. "Well, that's fine. But even if he's a bit of a lunatic, I can't see why he would have to pull off such a complicated set of tricks? If other people live here, it would be necessary for him to create The impression of outsiders—this argument is not bad. However, if he is an outsider at all, why should he take such a big risk and hide in the house for so long? Can't you just come in when the time comes?" "Number one," said Logician Hadley, cooperating with his fingers, "he must know everyone's whereabouts so as not to complicate matters. Second, and this is more important, he wants his disappearing trick , can be the final climax without leaving any footprints on any snow. We can say that this trick of disappearing out of thin air is the most important performance for the frenzied-Henry brothers. So he is Get inside first when the snow is falling, and wait patiently until the snow stops." "Who is—" Rosette's voice was sharp and high, "Brother Henry?" "Honey, that's just a title," Dr. Phil replied gently, "you don't know this person...Hadley, this is where I started, and I have a kind of barrier to this bizarre case." .We've talked about snow falling, stopping snow before, as easily as if it's like a faucet on and off. But I'd love to know how the hell a human being can tell when it's going to snow and when it's going to stop ?The average person is unlikely to say to themselves, 'Aha, I'm going to kill so-and-so on Saturday night. I think that day, the snow will start falling at 5:00 p.m. and stop exactly at 9:30 p.m. Sufficient, enough for me to easily enter the house and prepare all the traps.' Tsk tsk! Your answer is more difficult to convincing than your question. Rather than saying that someone can accurately predict when it will snow in order to start, I can I'd rather believe that someone can walk across the snow without leaving a trace." The criminal director was furious. "I was only trying to point out," said he, "the point of the case! But if you must contradict me—don't you see that my account has settled that last point?" "what is the problem?" "Our friend Mangan says the visitor says his time is ten o'clock. Mrs. Dummer and Mills say it's nine-thirty. Hold on!" He stopped Mangan, "is the former lying, or The latter? In the first place, did any of them have any good reason to lie about the time when the visitor threatened to arrive? Furthermore, one of them said ten o'clock, the other said nine-thirty. One is knowing in advance when the visitor will actually arrive. So, which time is the correct answer?" "Neither," said Mangan, looking straight in the eye, "just in between, nine forty-five." "That's right, and that means no one's lying. It also tells us that the time of arrival that threatened Grimaud's visitor was not certain; it was around 'nine-thirty, or ten o'clock, or that A period of time up and down'. Although Grimaud desperately pretended not to be afraid, in fact, he had already carefully announced two times to ensure that someone would be present at that time. My wife also did the same when inviting players... …Okay, but why is Brother Henry so vague? Because, like Phil said, he can't stop the snow like turning off the faucet. He can take a chance and bet big that tonight It's going to snow like the last few nights; but he has to wait until it stops, even at midnight. Turns out he doesn't have to wait long, it stops at half past nine. And then he does what a madman like him can do matter—he waited fifteen minutes to avoid controversy later, and then rang the bell." Dr. Phil opened his mouth to speak, but gave up after warily looking at Rosette and Mangan, who had focused expressions. "Well," said Hadley, puffing out his chest, "I think I've proved to you both that I believe everything you've said—because I'd like to ask you to help me establish an important point you've said. Clue: In other words, this person is not just an acquaintance. He knows the situation of the family inside and out, the location of the room, daily routine and personal habits. He is familiar with your catchphrases and nicknames. He not only knows who Mr. Pettis' nickname for Grimaud, I know you too. Anyway, this man must be a friend you know and have a good relationship with the professor. So, I want to know who frequents this house and who Very familiar with Professor Grimaud and fit the character..." The girl moved uneasily, her expression quite frightened. "You think... it's those people... Oh, no way! No, no, no! (It sounds like an echo of her mother's distorted voice.) After all, there is no such person!" "Why do you say that?" Hadley snapped. "Do you know who shot your father?" His words sounded like a thunderbolt from the blue sky, and immediately made her go into a rage: "No, of course I don't know!" "Then who did you suspect?" "No. It's just," she suddenly opened her lips and grinned, "I don't understand why your investigation direction is facing outsiders. Your deduction just now taught us a good lesson, thank you very much. However, if Saying that this guy is a thief at all, and acting in the way you describe, doesn't sound very reasonable, does it? That makes more sense." "Who are you referring to?" "Let's see! Well... that's your job, isn't it? (He's just kind of pissed off and she's enjoying it.) Of course, you haven't met the rest of our family yet , like Anne—or Mr. Dreyman, think about it. But your other idea is too ridiculous. First of all, my father doesn't have many friends, not counting the people who live in my house. There are only two friends that fit your criteria, but neither of them is likely to be your prey. In terms of physical characteristics, they are not standard. The first is Anthony Pettis, and he is not as tall as I am, and I It's just an ordinary figure. The other is Jeremy Burnaby, the artist who created that strange painting. He has a little physical defect, not serious, but it can't be concealed. Anyone who is less than a mile away If it's him, Aunt Ernestine and Stu will recognize it at a glance." "What do you know about them?" She shrugged. "Both of them are middle-aged, their families are well-off, and they usually have nothing to do but develop hobbies to pass the time. Pettis is a bald, very picky person...I'm not saying that he is as difficult to serve as an old woman, in fact, he is what most people think He is a good person, but his mind is astute. Bah! Why can't they be better!" She clenched her hands, glanced at Mangan, and then gradually a confused and thoughtful joy appeared on her face. "Bernaby... well, Jeremy has made a name for himself in a way. He's a famous artist, but he's better known as a criminologist. He's tall and likes to Mystery, always talking about crimes or bragging about his athletic achievements. Jeremy does have his own charisma. He likes me and makes Boyd jealous." Her smile breaks out. "I don't like that fellow," said Mangan calmly. "In fact, I have nothing but respect for him, and we both know that. But Rosette is right about one thing at least—he couldn't have done it." Do something like this." Hadley started writing again. "What kind of defect does he have?" "One leg was born with a deformity. As soon as you saw him, you knew it couldn't be hidden." "Thank you. So for now," Hadley said, closing the notebook casually, "that's all for now. You can go to the nursing home, unless... er, Phil, do you have a question?" The Doctor came forward awkwardly.He was taller than the girl, staring at her in a condescending posture, with his head slightly tilted to one side. "One last question," he said, flicking the black ribbon off his spectacles like a fly. "Hmmm! Well, Miss Grimaud, why are you so sure that the murderer is Mr. Derryman?"