Chapter 14 CHAPTER XIV A CUE OF CHURCH BELLS

The giant voice that erupted in the next second—it literally moved the world—is Dr. Phil’s laughter.The Doctor wasn't just giggling, he was laughing maniacally.Amid the hearty laughter, the doctor's cane kept hitting the ground, and even the red and yellow couch he was sitting on made a shocking creaking sound. "Fake it!" said Dr. Phil. "Fake it, my little friend! Hey hey hey. Fuck his ghost, fuck his evidence, it's all bullshit!" "What do you mean, 'fake tricks'?" demanded Hadley. "I don't think there's anything wrong with arresting the man right away. Doesn't this discovery convince you of Burnaby's guilt?"

"What this discovery tells me is that he's not guilty at all," Dr. Fell said, wiping his eyes with a red bandanna as the ecstasy subsided. "I was apprehensive about finding something like this just now when I was inspecting another room. It's just too perfect. Burnaby is a sphinx with no secrets, a criminal who hasn't committed a crime." (at least as far as this strange case is concerned)." "Would you like to explain..." "Greatly," said the Doctor respectfully, "Hadley, look around you at this place, and tell me what you think. Have you ever seen a thief or criminal decorate his hideout so romantically, Arranged in this way? And put those lockpickers, microscopes, and criminal chemicals on the table? Real thieves and criminals will arrange their lairs more solemnly than the residence of the church deacon. In fact , such a decoration, it is difficult to think of it as a game of pretending to be a thief. As long as you think about it a little longer, you will know what it really reminds you of, from many stories and movies. I can find it. The reason I'm so sure," the doctor explained, "is that I like the atmosphere myself, even if it's an exaggerated and dramatic atmosphere... In fact, it looks like someone is playing the detective. "

Hadley stopped, stroked his chin, and looked around thoughtfully. "When you were a kid," Dr. Phil said enthusiastically, "didn't you wish there was a secret passage in your house? And you always imagined a small hole in the attic as a secret passage, and crawled in with a candle , and almost burned the whole house down? Haven't you ever played the game of detective and wished that there was a mysterious den of thieves hidden in some mysterious alley, so that you could conduct your deadly investigation under a false name? Didn't anyone say that Burnaby was a fanatical amateur criminologist? Maybe he was writing a book. Anyway, he had the money and the leisure to pursue his interests in a more refined way, and that's all just childlike innocence. It’s something the adults of Weiming wanted to try. He created a second self, and he did it quietly and secretly, because if his friends knew about his behavior, he would definitely get a lot of laughter and ridicule. It’s just very It's ironic that the cold blooded detectives at Scotland Yard found out that he was top secret, and it was top secret as a joke."

"But, sir—" Sommers protested in a voice close to a scream. "Don't be impatient," Hadley eased, gesturing to keep Summers quiet, and then inspected this place again with remaining anger and doubts, "I admit that it is really not convincing to say that this place is a den of thieves, yes ;I admit it does look like a movie set. But what's with the blood and the rope? Don't forget, the rope is Foyle's, and the blood..." Dr. Phil nodded. "Well, yes. But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying this place has nothing to do with the case; I'm just warning you not to be too sure that Burnaby is leading a wicked double life."

"We'll find out about that soon. And," growled Hadley, "if this guy's the murderer, I don't care if he's a Two-Face who doubles as a thief. Sommers!" "Sir?" "You go to Mr. Jeremy Burnaby's house—yes, I know you're confused, but I mean his other house. I've got his address on me...well, Blue 2nd Floor, Thirteen A, Mbeli Square. Remember? Bring him here, use whatever excuse you want, bring him here. Don't answer any questions about this place, and don't ask him anything , understand? Also, when you go downstairs later, urge the landlady to hurry up."

A confused and discouraged Sommers hurried away, and Hadley strutted about the room, kicking at the edges of the furniture.As for Oloch, who was sitting quietly at the side, he looked at everyone with friendly and concerned eyes, and he waved his pipe as a signal. "Well, gentlemen," said he, "I would really like to see the detectives track down the murderer on this case. I don't know who Burnaby is, but he seems to be someone you already know. And What are you trying to ask me? I've told Officer Sommers or something about everything I know about Rooney, but if there's any need..."

Hadley took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders again.He took some papers out of his briefcase and looked through them. "This is your statement, isn't it?" The criminal director briefly read it. "Is there anything else you want to add? I mean, are you sure he said his brother rented a house down the street?" "Yes, he said so, sir. He said he'd seen his brother haunt the neighborhood." Hadley looked up, staring at him sharply. "That's a different thing, isn't it? What did he say?" Orloch seems to think this is nitpicking.He put it another way:

"Oh, so, that's what he said. He said, 'He rented a room there, and I've seen him hang out there.' Or so. I'm absolutely serious, not kidding!" "Not quite sure, though, are you?" Hadley demanded. "Just think it over for me!" "Damn it, I was thinking about it!" O'Luoqi retorted full of grievances, "It's okay, it's just that someone told you a lot of things, and then someone came to ask you about these things, and because you If you can't repeat everything word for word, they suspect you're lying. Sorry, man, that's all I can say."

"About Foyle's brother, how much do you know about him? Since you know Foyle, he should have told you something?" "Nothing! Not even a fart! Don't get me wrong. I said I knew Rooney better than anyone else, but that doesn't mean I knew everything about him. No People can figure him out. If you have seen him, you will know that even if you drink a few cups of yellow soup, you are unlikely to confide in him or confide in him. Buy Duke Dracula (the most famous vampire in history) for a beer - wait a minute, I'm just saying looks like Dracula, that's all, nothing more. Luni is quite a person .”

Hadley pondered his answer before asking the next question. "Our biggest problem right now - as you may have guessed - is the impossible scene. I suppose you've read the papers?" "I've seen it." O'Luoqi narrowed his eyes into a narrow line. "Why do you ask me this?" "Someone used some kind of hallucination or stage technique to kill the two men. You said you knew some magicians and escape experts, so do you have any idea of ​​a trick that could explain how it works?" O'Luoqi smiled, revealing his shiny teeth under his well-trimmed black mustache, and naughty and well-defined wrinkles gathered around his eye sockets.

"Oh, that, that's different, that's very different. Listen, I'll be honest with you. I noticed your reaction when I said I volunteered to hang out of the window for a demonstration. I was worried that you would Overthinking, understand? I mean me." He laughed softly. "Oh, forget it! Even if it is a person with amazing skills, even if he really has a rope in his hand and can walk without leaving a trace, it is not so easy to use a rope to perform such a difficult movement. But, the other thing..." O'Luoqi frowned, brushing the wooden pipe handle in his hand over the beard on his mouth, and looking at the opposite side, "Let's put it this way, I'm not an authority in this industry, and the inside story I know is not Not much; and I usually keep my mouth shut about what I know. It's a kind of..." He gestured, "It's a kind of convention, I hope you understand what I mean. Also, like escaping from a sealed box , disappearing, and so on, well, I've stopped talking about these things a long time ago." "why?" "Because," Orloch said seriously, "many people will be disappointed to learn the secret. First, the design of this show is so clever and simple that it's ridiculously simple, so they may not believe it. How fooled they are, they'll say, 'Oh, fuck you, don't tell me that crap! I just saw it right away.' Second, the show actually needs an insider to help, and that sort of thing will It makes it even more frustrating for the audience to say, 'Oh well, since there's help...' as if to think that any rot can be turned into magic if there's help." He was immersed in the smoke. "It's an interesting human reaction. Well, people come to see magic tricks, and you tell them it's an illusion, and they're willing to pay for it. But as long as they know it's not real magic, they won't understand It's wonderfully irritating. Once you understand how a magician can get out of a closed box or a roped sack, especially if the prop has been inspected by their own hands, everyone will be irritated because they think it's just a trick. gimmick. When they learn how they have been deceived, they say it is too far-fetched. I tell you that any simple magic trick requires a clever mind to invent. Everyone knows that if you want to be a The necessary conditions for an excellent escape artist are to be calm, resolute and decisive, rich in experience, quick in action, and fast as lightning, but no one has ever thought that they must have the ingenuity to fool every pair of eyes in public. I think they Everyone expects the Escape Technique to be a powerful and superb Qimen Dunjia. Like real magic, people on earth cannot practice it. Let me tell you, throughout the ages, no one has really been able to compress themselves into the thinness of a postcard, and then slip through the cracks. get out; and no one has ever crawled out through a keyhole, or through a length of wooden pipe. Shall I give an example of an escape technique?" "Go ahead." Hadley looked at him curiously. "No problem. Let's start with the lesser techniques! Let's say tightly sealed bag magic. The secret of juggling is (Author's Note: Please refer to Mr. JC Cornell's highly respected and shocking book)," Ou Lodge said with relish, "The magician comes out—you can also ask him to stand in the middle of the crowd—with a light cloth bag made of black cotton or wool satin, big enough for the magician to stand in. Magic After the master steps over the cloth bag, the assistant pulls up the whole cloth bag, then holds it tightly six inches below the opening of the cloth bag, and wraps it tightly with a long handkerchief. The audience can also wrap more on the tightly bound handkerchief. A couple of knots, pair waxing, stamping, whatever. Then, boom! A curtain is drawn around the magician, and thirty seconds later he strides out with the big The cloth bag, the knots, sealing wax, and imprints on it are still intact. Hey!" "And then what?" Orloch smiled as he habitually played with his beard (he couldn't seem to stop twirling them) and rocked from side to side on the couch. "Well, gentlemen, I'm going to make a fool of myself. There are actually two sacks, almost identical. The magician folds one of them up and stuffs it under his shirt. When he gets into the first sack, He starts pulling the bag, and the assistant will take over and pull the bag over his head—so that the magician can take out the second bag. The second bag will be pushed out about six inches from the opening of the first bag. It is the first cloth bag. Then, the assistant grabs the opening of the second cloth bag and binds it firmly with a rope. The first cloth bag will have a small side tied in so you can’t see where the two mouths meet. Traces. Boom! Then the dead knot is ready, as is the wax print. Once the magician is invisible behind the curtain, all he has to do is pull open the first cloth bag, let it slide down, fold it back and stuff it inside the shirt , and finally tied the second cloth bag tightly with a rope, and walked out majestically. Do you understand? Do you understand? The matter is so simple, so easy, but the audience desperately wants to find out. However, once they know how After one incident, they would say: 'Oh, well, it turns out that there is an internal reaction... He also made an expression while talking. Hadley couldn't help but listen intently, despite his discreet professional training, and Dr. Fell kept his mouth open like a child's throughout. "Yes, I understand," the criminal director said, as if to provoke an argument, "but the man we want to arrest, the man who committed the two murders, is absolutely impossible to have an accomplice What's more, it's not a kind of magic that disappears out of thin air..." "Okay," Oloch said, pushing his hat to one side, "I will explain to you a very brilliant disappearing magic, which is a kind of illusion performance using the stage. Listen carefully, the idea of ​​the trick is very Fantastic and ingenious. It can also be performed in an amphitheater if the audience asks, where there are no trapdoors for the stage, no wires for the ceiling, no props or some weird equipment. A continuous stretch of flat land. Well, a magician in a bright blue costume appeared on a snow-white horse. Then, a group of attendants in white costumes appeared on the stage like a circus, playing various circles. They Make a circle on flat ground, and then two followers jump out and swing a big fan - just for a split second, get it - just covering the magician on horseback. When the fan is lowered - it will be thrown to The audience checked to see that no hands or feet had been touched - but the man on the horse was gone. He just disappeared from the middle of the ten-acre flat land in front of everyone, hey!" "How do you explain it?" Dr. Phil pressed. "Simple! The magician never moved a step away. But you can't see him. The reason you can't see him is because the bright blue costume is made of paper—it's over a white costume. When When the fan was raised, the magician hurriedly tore off the blue costume and stuffed it into the white costume; then he jumped off the horse and joined the group of attendants in white costumes. Middle. The point is, no spectator ever bothered to count the number of followers before, so when they exited together, no one would have noticed. This is the trick of ordinary magic. They make you either pay attention to what is in front of you Turn a blind eye, or swear you're seeing something that isn't there. Hey, there's a flash! Greatest show in history!" For a moment, the vulgar and airless room fell into silence.Only the cold wind outside hit the windows.The bells of the church and the horns of taxis whistled faintly in the distance.Hadley shook his notebook. "We get it," he said, "that's a neat trick; but honestly, does it apply to our problem?" "Not applicable," O'Luoqi said frankly, even a little bit secretly, "the reason why I tell you-well, is because you asked me; of course, I also want you to know what kind of situation you are facing. Now that the matter has come to an end, I will say it bluntly: Director, I am not trying to undermine your confidence, but if your opponent is a very smart magician, then if you want to catch him, you may have a chance It's very small; you can't catch him." He struck a torreya with his finger. "These people have undergone strict training. They rely on juggling for a living. There is no prison in the world that can imprison them." Hadley's jaw tightened. "We'll see then. It's weird, I've always wondered why Foyle put his brother on a killing mission? Foyle is a magician himself, so he's the perfect man! But it wasn't him. He Is this brother also doing this business?" "I don't know. At least, I haven't seen his name on any of the playlists. But—" Dr. Phil interrupted suddenly.Panting for breath, he awkwardly stood up from the couch, and said hastily: "Get ready, Hadley. We'll have visitors in two minutes. Look out the windows—but don't get too close." The doctor pointed out the window with his cane.In the alley below, winding out from between the flat-windowed buildings, there are two figures gradually approaching against the wind.They had just turned this lane from Goulford Street; luckily the two walked with their heads down.Rimbaud recognized one of them as Rosette Grimaud.Next to him was a tall and thin man, holding a cane, walking wobbly, his shoulders swayed significantly; the man's right leg was crooked and deformed, and his boots were unusually tall and thick. "Turn off all the lights in the other rooms," Hadley instructed briskly, turning to Orloch. "I need your help. Get downstairs at once and stop the landlady from going upstairs at this juncture, and don't let What did she say; don't let her go upstairs unless I tell you to. Go out and close the door!" With that, he walked into the narrow hallway and snapped off the lights.Dr. Phil looked a little confused. "Hey, don't you want us to hide here and eavesdrop on other people's privacy?" He asked, "I'm not going to do that kind of boring thing just to get what Mills called 'anatomical samples'. Besides, they'll find out about us soon. The place is just smoky—all of Orloch's smoke." Hadley muttered a few foul words.He lowered the curtains, leaving only a beam of light as thick as a pencil shaft slanting into the room. "Could you help me, this opportunity must be taken. We just have to sit here quietly. If they've got something on their mind, they'll probably blurt it out once they're in the house and the door is closed; that's what most people do .By the way, what do you think of Oloki?" "I think," said Dr. Phil brightly, "that Orloch was the most enlightening, constructive, and contributing witness we have ever seen in this nightmarish case. I have no doubts about my own Confidence, it was all on his hands. In fact, he opened my eyes almost like church bells." Hadley, peering through the crack in the curtain, turned his head when he heard that.The penetrating light shone horizontally on his eyes, giving off a wild taste. "Church bells? What church bells?" "Any kind of church bell," Dr. Phil's voice was full of confidence and optimism that swept away the gloom, "I tell you, to my godless brain, those bells mean nothing more than a thread Dawn and some kind of consolation, it saved me from making a serious mistake... Yes, I am very sane." The sound of the metal band of the cane hitting the floor rose, and his voice became tense. "A flash of inspiration, Hadley! It finally enlightened me that the message of divine splendor is hidden in the clock tower." "Are you sure there's nothing else hidden in the bell tower, huh? Well, for goodness' sake, don't be so cryptic. Tell me what it is! I guess the church bells told you, How did the vanishing technique work?" "Oh, no," said Dr. Phil, "unfortunately not. They just told me the murderer's name." The room suddenly filled with a dignified atmosphere, a kind of physical oppression, as if breathing was forbidden.Dr. Phil's flat, unconvincing voice only made his statement seem weak.At this time, a back door downstairs was closed, and they vaguely heard footsteps in the stairwell echoing in the silent room.One set of footsteps was jerky, light, impatient; the other was a slow, laborious shuffling, followed by a heavy pause, accompanied by the noise of crutches banging against the railing.Only the noise was getting louder and louder, but there was no sound of anyone speaking.Then the key clicked into the door lock, and the door opened and clicked the latch shut.Finally, there was still a click, and the lights in the corridor were turned on.Immediately—obviously they had seen each other—the man and woman were eager to talk, as if they were the only ones who were suffocating. "It seems that you have lost the key I gave you," the man said, his voice was thin, harsh, and flat, and his tone was mocking but also depressing, "You said you still didn't come to the end last night ?” "Not just last night," Rosette Grimaud replied calmly, veiled with anger, "not any night." She laughed. "I never thought I'd come here. You scare me a little bit. Well, what the hell is it? Now that I'm here, I gotta say, you're not a very nice house. Last night you Are you happy waiting?" There was some movement there, as if she took a few steps forward and was blocked.Then, a man's voice sounded. "Oh, you little witch," he said, still composed, "I've got to tell you something so that you don't feel bad about your conscience. I wasn't here last night. I didn't even want to come. If you just want Playing others like monkeys, then, I didn’t come last night, understand? If you want to play, you can play yourself. I was not here yesterday.” "You're lying, Jeremy." Rosette said calmly. "Really? Why do you say that?" The two walked to the room where the door was half closed.Hadley reached out and jerked the curtains open. "We want to hear from you too, Mr. Burnaby," he said. Suddenly being covered by the haze of sunlight, they were so frightened that they lost their souls; their expressions were blank and dull, as if a flashlight had been turned on unexpectedly, making it too late for people to react.Rosette Grimaud could not help crying out, and immediately raised her arms, as if to avoid it, but the viciousness, alertness, and terrible triumph that had passed her face before this moment were gone. was captured by the crowd.Jeremy Burnaby stood still, his chest heaving.Against the background of the dim electric light, his black silhouette emerged, and with the old-fashioned wide-brimmed black hat on his head, he looked exactly like the strange, lean sleepy god in the advertisement.However, he is more real than the black silhouette after all.He had a deeply lined face, usually more blunt and friendly, as was his posture; his jaw was protruding, and his eyes seemed blank with rage.He took off his hat and tossed it on the couch with such a bravado that Rimbaud thought he was acting.His temples were flecked with gray, and his bristly brown hair stood on end as if joyously released from a doll's box. "Oh?" There was obvious teasing in his tone. After finishing speaking, he staggered forward with his deformed right foot, "Are you robbing, or what are you trying to do? I think it's three against one. I got a walking stick with a hidden sword, but..." "Never mind, Jeremy," said the girl, "they're the police." Burnaby was at a loss for words, and scratched his lips with his huge palm.Although he was still joking when he spoke again, it could be seen that he was a little nervous. "Oh, the police, huh? It's really my pleasure. Break into the house, got it." "You're a tenant on this floor," Hadley responded kindly, "not a landlord or owner of the house. If your suspicious behavior is discovered... I don't think it's a big deal, sir. But, I guess, Mr. Naby, your friend will be very amused by these ... Oriental designs, won't he?" Hadley's smile and tone pierced Burnaby's sore spot deeply, and his face became flustered and disturbed. "You bloody bastard," he said, half-raising his cane, "what are you doing here?" "While my memory is still fresh, first of all, what I want to ask is, what you talked about when you entered the door..." "You overheard our conversation, huh?" "That's right. Unfortunately," said Hadley calmly, "we haven't overheard enough. Miss Grimaud said you were in the flat last night. Is that true?" "I'm not staying here." "You don't...does he, Mademoiselle Grimaud?" Rosette's complexion has returned to normal, too normal, because she was so angry that she responded with a calm smile.She was out of breath when she spoke, and her slender hazel eyes showed that indifferent and very unnatural expression, as if trying to hide her emotions.However, judging from the small movement of her squeezing the glove between her fingers and the sound of panting, the fear in her heart may be greater than anger. "Since you've overheard it," she replied, sweeping her eyes over everyone present, "even if I wanted to deny it, it wouldn't help, would it? I don't understand why you're so curious. It's the same as... my father's Death has nothing to do with it, really. Whatever Jeremy is," she grinned, "he's definitely not a murderer. But since you're so interested in the matter, I'd like to Make the whole thing clear. I know some things are going to get to Boyd later - the truth is the best thing to come out... I'm going to say, yes, Jeremy was here last night in an apartment." "How did you know this, Mademoiselle Grimaud? Were you here last night?" "No, but at half past ten, I saw with my own eyes that the lights in this room were on."