Chapter 5 Chapter 2 Weak Poison
"Insiders, eh? . . . " mused Sir Henry Merrillville, "sent her a box of poisoned chocolates . . . did she eat it?"
"I was about to talk about this. The poisoned chocolate incident happened yesterday morning, almost a month after Martha Tate came to New York. You see, I never thought I would come to England, nor did I just Back in Washington, met friends in the circle - honestly, I don't really have any special friendship with them, just the goddamn atmosphere, messing with your head. Sir, I didn't mean to say things like that mysterious..."
Sir Henry Merrillville grunted.
"Bah, mysterious," he said, "this is just a self-evident truth, but there is no way to express it in a language that humans can understand. However, there is nothing mysterious or mysterious about killing someone with poison. Let's have another drink. By the way, how did you get mixed up with those people?"
Next, James Bennett explained something rather queer: John Bohun had changed.
As soon as James Bennett returned to Washington as an errand, he was sent to Westminster as a puppet diplomat with a clichéd letter of thanks.The puppet diplomat has nothing else to do but to say some witty business talk on all occasions.
On a dreary and gloomy day, the needle-like twilight pierced the horizon, corroding a purple halo like mist; the wind was like a blade, scraping the waves and piercing the scars of the ferry.He was going to sail across the oceans on the Beren-Jara.
He found the crowd on deck, uncharacteristically excited, chattering all the time.Just as they were out of sight of the handkerchiefs floating on the pier, he came up to Martha Tate and stood face to face with her.In order to conceal her identity, she wore sunglasses and a heavy leather jacket, but she still kept a smile on her face.John Bohun walked up and down beside her, and Carneyfest stood aside.The latter was pale and seemed a little seasick. He returned to the cabin during lunch and never came out again.Craig and Emery were almost always in the cabin, only showing up now and then when the steamer passed Southampton.
James Bennett recounts: "That's how Martha, Bohun and I came across each other. And what puzzled me was Bohun's difference. He seemed out of place in New York, despite being able to say Laughing, and seems to have developed a sense of humor. Only when the three of us are together, he is not so nervous. I suddenly noticed that he had a wild and romantic feeling about this film he produced. Idea. As far as I know, the two brothers have always been fascinated by the seventeenth century, and there's a reason for that: their residence, White Abbey, was the property of the Bohun family in the time of Charles II. At that time, The head of the Bohun family is a good friend of the king. When Charles came to the horse racing town, he lived in the White Abbey temporarily. It was once called the 'Happy House'."
Sir Henry Merrillville grimaced, poured himself another glass of wine, and said, "Funny old place, Racetown. 'Merry House'—well, Neil Gain and Bawhurst meets Charles Where did you live before? The White Monastery... Wait a minute, let me think about it. I remember seeing it somewhere, the pavilions next to the White Monastery are not allowed to be visited by tourists..."
"You're right, people call it the 'Queen's Mirror'. Bohun said: Since their family built this White Abbey, almost every generation has been obsessed with moving marble to England to imitate the original building. , to build water pavilions on the water. However, this statement is false. In fact, this kind of enthusiasm did not start until a hundred years later, in the eighteenth century, but Boheng firmly believed in this statement. In any case, their ancestor George Bohun, who built White Abbey probably in 1664 to entertain Charles's glamorous and radiant beau, Mrs. Castleman. This waterside pavilion is made of marble, of which there are only two or three rooms, located in a small The center of the artificial lake, that's why it's called the 'Queen's Mirror.' There's a scene in Morris's script that takes place there.
"John described the 'Queen's Mirror' to me one afternoon when John, Martha and I were all on deck. I found him furtive and nervous. He would always say: 'Maurice is the wit of the family, Too bad I wasn't, I wish I could have written a script like this.' and then looked at the others (especially Martha Tate) with an unintentional grin, as if waiting for them to object. He does have a knack for describing things though , let people feel that he has an artist's vision. I think he is a great director. Listening to him is like witnessing the secluded path, the green trees lined up; And he said as if to himself: "In the name of God, I really want to play the role of Charles myself, I can..." At this point, he stopped talking. Martha · Tate looked at him strangely, pointed out calmly: They already have Jarvis Willa, don't they? Then he turned to look at her. I don't like the way she has half-closed eyes, as if thinking What, he has no way to participate, so I asked her: Have you visited the 'Queen's Mirror'. Boheng smiled, pressed his palm on her soft body, and said to me: 'Oh, yes , that's where we met.'
"I tell you, that didn't make any sense, but then I got goosebumps. We were the only ones left on the deck, folding chairs gliding to and fro with the waves, and those two prints looked like they were printed on old gallery canvas." Down face, looking at me in the dim light. But the next moment, Tim Emery entered the field with a face full of jealousy, but with determination. He yelled desperately, completely unable to control himself. This made Bohun shut up, He made no secret of his deep hatred for Emery and Regg."
Sir Henry Merrillville thought for a while, and said in a low voice: "About these gentlemen, Reg and Emery... you mean that a well-paid and famous director has abandoned this good job. work, and came across the sea to pursue this adulterer?"
"Oh, no. He hasn't had a vacation for two years, but he chose to take a vacation with her, trying to convince her not to be a fool."
James Bennett hesitated, thinking again of his fat, expressionless face, his crooked black hair, and his penetrating eyes.
"Maybe," said Bennett, "somebody knows what he's thinking, but I don't. He's smart, like he can read people's minds, but he's as cynical as a taxi driver."
"Has he taken a fancy to Tate?" asked Sir Henry Merrillville.
"Hmm...maybe."
"Obviously not sure. Son, you are too pure." Sir Henry Merrival stubbed out his cigarette and muttered casually, "Well, how about Emory?"
"Emery is more willing to talk to me than anyone else. Personally, I have a crush on him. He talks to me all the time because other people always like to edge him out and make him really hate it." James Bennett sighed resignedly, "He's a toilsome, ambidextrous type who can't sit still and not work. And he's worried, and his work depends first and foremost on , could he bring Martha Tate back to the studio, so he got on board."
"What's his attitude?"
"He seems to have a wife who lives in California, and he always quotes her on whatever he's talking about. His interest in Martha Tate is the same as that of the late Mr. Frankenstein: she is He created it, or he helped to create it. Then, yesterday..."
Poisoned chocolate.When he explained, the heavy sound of Big Ben came along the breakwater.It's a hint, it's a hint that this is another city: the melancholy twilight, the dead lights, the top hat that makes the face look like it's wearing a mask.Martha Tate was as wildly popular here as in New York.The ship docked the day before yesterday, and the train, full of people, pulled into Waterloo Station, but he didn't have time to say goodbye to her.
John Bohun was in the corridor, shook his hand good-bye.
"Listen to me," he said, scribbling something on a card. "Here's the address." Once back in the atmosphere of London, he's back to himself—lively, smart, witty, just because he's home." No sight, tomorrow morning, she will sail to this address. No one else knows about it. How about we meet there?"
James Bennett agreed, knowing it well—Bohun and Martha had argued red-facedly before giving Reg and Emory the address.
"You will tell His Royal Highness Carneyfest the address," said Martha Tate, "surely you will? …"
When he was desperately pushing through the crowd and rushing to a taxi, he turned his head to look at Martha Tate: in the darkness, she was leaning against the train window with a smile on her face, accepting flowers from others, While shaking hands with several men who were about to turn their backs.
Suddenly, there was a loud shout: "Jarvis Willa is over there!..." The flashing lights swung over immediately.His Highness Kanifest had a kind face and asked his daughter to hold him while others took pictures.
Speeding down Waterloo Bridge one December afternoon, James Bennett doubted whether he would ever meet them again.The friendship formed on the ship will probably not take long to end and be forgotten by everyone.
He ran to the American embassy, saw the pomp and pomp, the people shaking hands, and then ran to Whitehall to perform the final task and be caught in the same pomp.Within hours, it was done.They rested him in a two-seater Morris chair, at his request; and he did his duty, accepting two or three invitations.Then, like a devil, he left alone.
The next morning, he was still depressed.The shadow of Martha Tate, appearing and disappearing in his mind, is completely different from the faint friendship formed on the ship.He was thinking about this in the bleak town, feeling increasingly bleak and forlorn.He tossed and turned, wondering whether to go to Hamilton at the address written on the card, and wandered outside Piccadilly Circus; he was clearly allowed to go there, but he was still at a loss.
At the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue, he heard someone shouting his name in a friendly and joking tone, and was almost run over by a big yellow car.Passersby stared at the car.The car had a huge silver radiator lid with the words "Singhaz Studios" painted on it so clearly that even Tim Emery, who was driving, could see it.Emery yelled at him to get in the car, looking out of sorts.
On the drive to Piccadilly, James Bennett glanced now and then at the sharply defined face beside him: the discontented mouth, sandy brows.
"God," Emery said, "she's crazy. I'm telling you, this woman is totally crazy." He punched the steering wheel and swerved to avoid a bus. "I never I've never seen her like this before: once in town, she's smug. Don't give it away, she says, listen! . . . " He almost screamed, obviously confused and depressed, "I'm going to see , the British branch of our studio—Ward Street branch. They can help me a lot. Even if she draws a good lottery, I will read in the newspaper that she is lucky to be at ease. Can you Can you imagine, at this moment—can you imagine, I ask you—any woman..."
"Tim," said James Bennett, "it's none of my business, it's just that you have to realize that now she's decided to do that play."
"But why? . . . why?" Tim Emery exclaimed excitedly.
"Well, revenge. Did you read the papers this morning?"
"If..." said Tim Emery in a tone full of awe, "if she gets caught up in the eyes of these British tabloid reporters, huh? . . . it won't do her any good. Why bother with them, in town Spread what, why let them pry, when will she get, two thousand a week? . . . God, this is annoying! It's like she's got . . . um," Emory said to himself Said, "A determined woman, very instructive, you will hear a story that is known in the street. Ask me to shoot in that situation-no, no, I will stop it."
"Besides smashing Martha's head off and kidnapping her," said James Bennett, "I don't see what else you can do."
Tim Emery looked aside.His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth reeked of wine.James Bennett saw something theatrical, embarrassed and perplexed, tinged with sentimentality.
"Listen," Emory took a deep breath, and he actually took that suggestion seriously, "kidnapping her? . . . bro, I wouldn't mess with her hair for a second in this world , not to mention hurting her fingers!...May God bless the man who is trying so hard, that's all I have to say. Yeah, I love that woman, she's like my goddess, I just want to watch She has everything in this world..."
"Watch the way," said James Bennett hastily. "Where are we going...?"
"Go to her for an argument, if you can find her." Tim Emery turned his pale, manic, sincere face away again. "She went shopping in a wig this morning, listen , a wig. But I'll tell you this: if she wants to be photographed wearing this Charles II romper, yes, why not? ... It's a box office hit. Radiant Films did something like that last year thing, and took the No. 1 spot at the box office—it was that show, you put Neil Gain in, right? Uh huh, I guess so..." He stepped on the clutch angrily, "Okay, we'll go with Bowman It's a deal. We're going to throw a million dollars into production, a million dollars!..." Emory Tao said, "and then get some top Oxford students to act as technical consultants. You will think I don't want to get an artistic success? That's my only thought," he said gruffly.
The car made a sharp turn again, on purpose.
Stretching his neck back, Tim Emery continued, "If she wishes so, then of course it can come true, but it doesn't. What kind of a fellow Bohun is, I ask you— Don’t understand in the next minute? Weakness!… Bohun is like this.” Tim Emery cursed angrily, “This is their trick, to keep her away from my side, to prevent me from letting her see clearly As a matter of fact, they took her to the country. Wouldn't we lose it then?... However, I wouldn't bother with that, of course she could go to the country, but here in London there should be a way Ruin their game."
"How to do it?"
"Oh, method." Tim Emery wrinkled his forehead and lowered his voice, "Listen, don't say it. Do you know who paid for this show? Huh?"
"Who is it?..." James Bennett stared curiously, looking at Tim Emery and asked.
"Karneyfest," Tim Emery said, "we're turning here."
Around the corner of Hyde Park, Tim Emery weaves deftly through traffic before turning into a courtyard.In the courtyard there is a stretch of white stone flats overlooking the park's brown fields and spiky trees.Tim Emery told the janitor to be quiet, but he grumbled and put a bill in the janitor's hand.
They walked through the shadows of the cathedral and came to a platform.At this time, the door of room 12 opened.
"It's almost like a funeral." Tim Emery said while smelling the strong fragrance of flowers, but stopped when he heard a voice from inside.
In a blue lounge, the winter sun shines through the wide windows on the three of them.James Bennett did not know the man reclining in the window seat smoking.
On a table, among a pile of crushed orchids, lay a package wrapped in brown paper that had been unwrapped to reveal a five-pound box of chocolates with a tacky bow on the lid and a Painted colored nudes of banshees.
John Bohun stood at the table, Carl Reig on the other side.As James Bennett watched them, he realized that there was a danger here.Only when she walked into Martha Tate's room, could she feel the damn atmosphere from the luggage and items she touched, and she became tense again.
"I don't know if you realize," said John Bohun, his voice rising sharply, with a wasp-like sting, and then dropping again, "that people are allowed to open their own parcels as a matter of course. We sometimes call it 'Politeness.' Have you ever heard of such a thing?"
"Oh, I don't know," Carl Reg said dully, his cigar between his teeth, his eyes on the box of chocolates.He reached out and stroked the bow, "I'm curious."
"Really?..." Boheng said lightly, still leaning on the table, "Roll as far as you can from the box! Otherwise, I'll smash your fat face and throw it in. Do you understand?"
The person leaning against the window seat said: "Listen to me!..." He hastily put out the cigarette butt and stood up.Reg walked away from the table, his expression still calm, his eyes on the box of chocolates.
"John, as far as I'm concerned," said the third man, in a low voice with a certain sense of humor, as if he could freeze all hatred, but could do nothing about the current situation, "in this matter, you offended a Team villain, isn't it?"
He walked slowly to the table, feeling among the wrapping papers.Suddenly, he looked at Reg thoughtfully: "After all, Mr. Reg, it's just a box of chocolates. This is a card, no doubt, it was sent by an admirer. It's not because Miss Tate received too much gift. At least, you suspect this box, right? I said, you don’t think it’s a bomb, do you?”
"If that idiot," Reg pointed the cigar at Bohun, "could listen to me rationally..."
John Bohun took a step forward as Tim Emery knocked casually on the front door and hurried in again.James Bennett followed Emery, and the two called the rest of the room to watch.In an instant, the interruption broke the deadlock, and the room hummed like a beehive.
"Hi, Tim," Reg said, with malice in his voice, though he tried desperately to avoid it, "Good morning, Mr. Bennett, you just happened to be in time to hear something interesting."
"Besides, Reg," replied John Bohun dryly, "why don't you get the hell out of here?"
Carl Reg raised his eyebrows, and retorted: "Why do you want me to go? I am also a guest here. It's just that I happen to be very interested in Martha Tate and her health, so I am willing to take the trouble to tell you and Will Mr. La explained." He imitated the tone of the others, "There is something wrong with those chocolates."
John Bohun stopped talking and looked back at the table.The man named Willa also looked over. He had a shrewd and humorous square face, deep wrinkles around his lips, a protruding forehead, and a thick piece of light gray hair.
"Question?" he repeated slowly.
Carl Wraig didn't take his eyes off, and continued to say in a sharp tone: "It wasn't from some anonymous admirer in London. Look at the address, Miss Martha Tate, Room 12, West One, Hertford Hamilton. There are only six I personally know that she intends to come here. No reports have spread yet, but this box was mailed last night, before she arrived here... We must admit: either her friend sent it, or one of us .But, why...?"
After a pause, John Bohun said gruffly: "I think this is a very tasteless joke. Anyone who knows Martha Tate knows that she doesn't eat sweets, and this cheap gift has a picture on the cover. A naked beauty..." He broke off.
"Yes, do you think," said Willa, knuckleping the box, "that this counts as some kind of warning?"
"You're going to tell me," said John Bohun suddenly, "that the chocolates were poisoned?"
Carl Wraig stared at him darkly. "Okay, okay, okay..." He bit his cigar unhappily, "Nobody said it was like that—no one ever said it was poisonous except you. You Either a fool, or too perceptive. Well, if there's nothing wrong with them, why don't you try a piece?"
"Well," John Bohun hesitated, "in God's name, I'll eat it! . . . " And he lifted the lid.
"Calm down, John," said Willa.He laughed, that deep, commonplace jeer that brought them back to normal for a while, "Now listen to me, old boy. There's no need to be so shabby, or we'd be no different than a bunch of idiots. There's probably nothing wrong with this box." No, if you think there is a problem, send it for analysis; if you think there is no problem, just try it.”
John Bohun nodded.He took out a bloated piece of chocolate from the box, scanned the audience with strange eyes, and smiled faintly.
"That's right," he said, "we're all going to eat a piece, actually."
In the gloomy office of the Ministry of Defense, Big Ben chimed for a quarter of an hour. James Bennett temporarily stopped his narration and relaxed a bit.Looking at the hypnotic lamp on the desk, he only felt that the memory was like a dream.He noticed again, the round face blinking in the darkness.
"Well, if it weren't for that, I'd be damned!" roared Sir Henry Merrillville, making a crackling noise as hoarse as a bell, "for so long, in my Of all the hogs I've seen, this John Bohun is the worst. 'We're all going to eat a piece', huh? Stupid. I guess if someone poisoned the top floor, he was in the room In - this is totally unproven by the way - surely this guy would say no?... lol. If every piece of chocolate on the top layer is poisoned - which is unlikely - then the entire crew Poisoned. If only half the chocolate on the top shelf is poisoned—which is more likely—you can be sure that whoever tampers with the box will be extremely careful not to take the poisoned chocolate. The idea That's crazy. Are you going to tell me Bohun ate everybody?"
"Yeah, sir, we're all on the ropes and have to, and everybody's looking at everybody else..."
"Oh," said Sir Henry Merrillville, with his eyes wide open, "you haven't eaten?"
"I had to eat because there was no excuse. Reg refused, saying he was a wise man..."
"He turned out to be quite clever," said Sir Henry Merrival, sneering.
"However, you will find that he is also terrified by demons. When Bohun laughed and gave a few good reasons why he didn't eat, he almost flew into a rage. Emory was more drunk than he looked, crazy Threats said: If he doesn't eat, put all the chocolate into his mouth, but Reg still ate a piece. Emory ate it; Willa ate it too, and he just thought it was fun from beginning to end; I ate too." James Bennett smiled wryly, shaking his head lightly, "I admit this is the first time I've seen him show cynical emotions." James Bennett still had lingering fears in his heart, "What a ridiculous show, I just can't laugh. I just took a bite of the chocolate and it tasted weird, I swear..."
"Well, I bet they're all the same. And then?"
"It was all right. We stood looking at each other and it didn't feel very good. For some reason, Carl Wragg was the target. He had a sick sneer on his face, and he smoked like hell. But he got his revenge, and he nodded and said cheerfully: 'I firmly believe that this experiment will satisfy all of you.' Then he put on his hat and coat and left.
"A few minutes later, Martha Tate came back from shopping, dressed in a rather strange way, and we just felt like a lot of children, locked in a crowded cupboard. Willa burst out laughing, and the scene finally returned to peace. "
"Did you tell her?"
"No, neither of us believed such a thing. When we heard her in the corridor, Bohun cleared the box and the wrappers and hid them under his coat. We had lunch together there next night. Six o'clock last night, Bohun called my hotel to detour into a nursing home in South Audley to take care of the War Council.Two hours after lunch Tim Emery collapsed in a bar and the doctor said yes Strychnine poisoning."
Suddenly, there was a brief silence.
"No," James Bennett answered without asking, "he's not dead, not even in danger of dying, and he hasn't eaten enough. They've helped him recover, but none of us has anything to say about the little boy." Delighted with the experiment. The question is, what are we going to do?... No one is going to call the police except Emery, and it's not because of him. He babbles repeatedly that it was the most wonderful event in this era , deserved to be in the papers; that's what he said this morning. Reg pointed out—at least he wasn't gloating—that if the police were called there would be an investigation, and they probably wouldn't be quick, and let Martha It will be difficult for Tate to return to the United States if it exceeds the three-week period allowed by the shooting location."
"What about Miss Tate's own thoughts?"
"She doesn't care, actually..." James Bennett replied uncomfortably, remembering the smile on her full lips and the dark eyes behind her thick veil, "she looks happy, but is bothered." Emery, made this good old man who is sometimes sentimental and sometimes ruthless cry. By the way, Bohun is one of the most miserable of them all. This morning, there was another council of war, and made quite a few cocktails Well. Someone was about to say it, but everyone realized that someone—perhaps someone here—had…”
He made some meaningful gestures.
"Well, yes." Sir Henry Merrillville nodded and hesitated for a while, "Wait a minute, have you had someone analyze it, those chocolates?"
"Bohun did this. Two of the chocolates on the top were poisoned, including the one Emory ate. Both contained slightly less than lethal amounts of strychnine. Later we Found: one of them was only along one side, with a small amount of poison pressed in. The killer didn't seem to know how to poison. Also, they were so far away from each other that unless bad luck happened, it was unlikely that a person would eat both In other words, like Willa—it's just some kind of warning..."
The swivel chair in which Sir Henry Merrillville sat creaked, and he shaded his eyes with one hand, and his spectacles reflected an inscrutable light in the shadows.He hasn't spoken for a long time.
"Uh, I see. What decision did the War Council pass?" he asked casually.
"Maurice Bohun plans to take Martha Tate to White Abbey this afternoon in London, and polish the manuscript. Willa will join them by train. John will drive himself into town tonight, and he has A business date and got home late. They asked me to go to a party with me, but I was late because there were a lot of work-related receptions."
"You intend to go to the party to-night?" asked Sir Henry Merrillville.
"Yeah, if it's not too late. I'll have the bags pre-packed—anyway, that's the way it is, sir." At this moment, James Bennett was struggling and fighting inwardly. I just deceive myself, on the other hand, I feel that this is a matter of life and death, "It took up a lot of your time, my words are too long and cumbersome, maybe nothing will happen..."
"Perhaps," said Sir Henry Merrillville heavily, leaning forward, "now listen to me."
Big Ben struck six thirty.
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