Chapter 21 Chapter Eighteen
"I see..." Maurice Bohun said as he brushed the palm of the other slowly with one hand, as if wiping a slate, "I see that everyone is almost ready to go to Sir Henry Merrivier Proposed, interesting experiment, right?" He was staring at his hands, but then looked up again, "I want to say, of course, this kind of experiment is impossible for anything related to the real murderer of Miss Martha Tate. lead us to discover. Though I refrain from telling you the fact, at Sir Henry's express request, that a certain gentleman is going to be in a state of self-justification hitherto, yet we have doubts of our own .but……"
Exactly how James Bennett got through that dinner, he has no memory of it afterward.Before he descended the stairs, something compelled him to go to King Charles' chambers, quite against his character and will.He was very dissatisfied, his mind was full of fear that was about to move, the fear of not knowing how things would develop, until he saw the room and suppressed all imaginations.Afterwards, he wished he hadn't come, and that was the price.
Sergeant Potter stood guard by the corridor door.There was no light in the room, only a pale moonlight passing through the window lattice.But the door to the secret staircase was open, and a strong wind was blowing from it, and the beam of the torch flickered at the bottom, and Sir Henry Merrillville was whispering something to Masters.
He came to this door without realizing how high, how steep, and how dangerous the staircase was: it sounded like the stone walls of a cellar, with uneven stone steps between them, which seemed to sink into an abyss.Masters' flashlight, suddenly shining on his face, almost knocked him off balance.Then, the light shone downward again and fell on another face, that distorted face, which was leaning up on a certain step, and the eyes did not blink when the light shone on it.
At supper, James Bennett had just been with five persons—Sir Henry Merrillville, Mr. Maurice Bohun, Jarvis Wella, Miss Catherine Bohun, and Miss Louise Carraway. ——Not long after sitting down, Morris turned the meal into a terrifying ceremony.All but the master were aware of the new tension, and, though uninformed, seemed to know that death had once again visited the house.
When Maurice Bohun arrived at the library, he saw Miss Louise Carraway for the first time since landing in England.She sat near the flames, wearing a dark blue coat, with dark gray hair parted smoothly down the middle.In a mental picture that he didn't know how to form, he always remembered that she was a little pudgy, freckled, and about twenty-eight years old.He was surprised to find that she was now very small, with dark circles around her eyes, but surprisingly bright.Emotionally tense, Miss Louise Carraway looked like a ghost, but far from a scruffy one.She is about forty years old.
Maurice Bohun muttered a platitude or two.There's nothing to say, and he doesn't add to the error, trying to say anything.She smiled mechanically, stretched out her hands, and held a handkerchief tightly again, staring at the flames, seemingly forgetting everything else.
Maurice Bohun - neatly tidied up - was gracious, praising the sherry he offered "in place of the abominable cocktail".His hollow smile echoed off the roof.Jarvis Willa is quiet and unassuming, but starts striding up and down the library again, and you realize he needs a shave.
They were all a little surprised, James Bennett thought, when Sir Henry Merrillville came lumbering in, winking and whispering graciously to each one.He didn't know whether the night experiment had been mentioned.
Catherine Bohun was the last to come in, dressed in plain black and without accessories, but her shoulders were shining against the black checks.
For James Bennett, the presence of Catherine Bohun suddenly intensified the atmosphere of terror in the group.She is a real person, and he can feel the warmth and beauty in her; while the others, maybe they are just monsters wearing masks, and one of them must be like this.There was an indeterminate evil about the scene, making it weird to walk in and eat, and even weirder to eat.Of course, it was perhaps an accident that they returned to the theme as soon as they entered the dim, breezy dining room.
"I order! . . . " said Maurice Bohun, nodding to the candlelight, "bring an extra chair to the table . . . "
The scraping sound of footsteps seemed to be shaking.
"An extra seat?" said Catherine Bohun.
"For Mr. Carl Wragg, of course..." her uncle pointed out tenderly. "If he recovers and comes down to dinner, it will be of use. You understand me, Kate? . . . " He Nodding to Thompson, his smile turned into mild surprise, "Mr. Emory told me that he is out of shape tonight, and there is no way to sit with us for dinner..."
"You have something to say, Sir Henry?" he added quickly.
"Have you?..." muttered Sir Henry Merrillville, "well, there, listen!...I must have been thinking of something else. I was just thinking that that fellow Carl Wraig must have Good physique."
There was the sound of chairs scraping the floor.
"The most special thing is that he will hold on to the last moment." Maurice Bohun nodded in agreement. "Even if it is the end of the twisted rope, I think."
His ghostly spirit was high and seemed to be urging him not to stop.
Somewhere on the table, there was the sound of a spoon scraping a plate.
"Come here, Kate! . . . You do want some. I recommend this soup. If you insist on eating disheveled, you need something to keep warm. Or is that element you already have? … We This young friend from the US, seems to be...uh... equally lacking in appetite, from the food on the table, can I say that?...Yeah. But it's not a compliment on the part of the owner .Of course—oh, my boy, you don't think you're dining with Borgia, do you?"
"No, sir! . . . " said James Bennett.He felt a small hammer begin to tap unskillfully on his temple, and he looked up. "With Borgia, at least you know what to expect."
"But of course..." said Maurice Bohun in a persuasive tone, "of course the American... er... 'aggressiveness' and creativity will find quick solutions to problems such as Cooking and love? . . . Are you afraid of poison, or have you not yet found a way to poison Borgia?"
"No, sir..." said James Bennett, "I just want castor oil."
"Have some of your own soup, Uncle Morris," Catherine coaxed.She leaned back suddenly and started laughing hysterically.
A faint sound resounded in the great room, like the light of a candle lighted by a breeze, symbolizing the arrival of a newcomer.Jarvis Wella glanced sullenly and ironically across the table.
"I say, Maurice..." he commented, "I don't want to interrupt, pleasant reasoning about soup and poison. But let's be sensible for a while, shall we? . . . joy……"
Jarvis Wella paused, looking sullen and bewildered again, as he had been that afternoon; now he seemed to be cursing himself, saying something he hadn't planned.
"I don't mind! . . . " said Miss Louise Carraway in a small, clear voice.She studied the table first, then looked up, "I'm not going to poison myself, you know that. What I want to do is take the train back to town and see if my father is all right and not... Very depressed."
They had not yet told her of the trouble John Bohun had caused, as could be heard in her clear voice.But James Bennett looked quickly at Maurice Bohun, thinking he would follow Louise's words—parts at least—of the tangled thoughts in those twinkling gray eyes. .
Maurice Bohun seemed to be weighing several scalpels and considering which one to take.He picked the second one.
"Back to town by train? . . . " he repeated. "I'm sure we all appreciate your concern for your father, as would John if he were here. But I'm afraid the police may not be so sensible. Perhaps no one Hear?..." Maurice Bohun nodded and sighed, "ah! Well, we're going to play last night's part, re-enacting the scene on the stairs of King Charles' room, to poor Martha Tate. Attempted murder, Sir Henry Merrillville opined: "It will be of great help in solving the case. I need say no more at this moment, and if I should have disturbed anyone's supper, I should express my deepest remorse."
There was a small commotion around the table, which seemed more out of surprise.Thompson walked in expertly, as if everyone was aware of his presence, and there was a long silence.The movement of dishes seemed surprisingly loud.
Though James Bennett didn't look up, he found himself watching everyone's hands.Everyone's hands were placed on the polished black oak table, moving and stopping, shuttling among the silverware.
Maurice Bohun had slender hands, with rows of dark shadows lying in the hollows on the backs of his hands, and he was wiping each other like washing.Miss Catherine Bohun's pink nails scraped lightly on the oak.Jarvis Willa's fingers were large and bamboo-like, and his index finger tapped slowly on the rim of the spoon.Louise Carraway's hands, as white as the circles of flax on a plate, twisted together, motionless...
Then James Bennett looked at Carl Wraig's empty chair and remembered a scene at the bottom of the stairs where someone's hand was still busy...
"What nonsense is this?" asked Jarvis Willard.
"I'm sure there's no objection? . . . " said Maurice Bohun, laughing. "To Sir Henry it's extremely queer . . . you see."
Catherine Bohun said in clear tones: "I think it's rather horrific, but if it has to be, we will. If Mr. Reg isn't there, I've always felt: you're not very interested in recreating any scenes, Uncle Morris."
"I have my reasons! . . . " replied Maurice Bohun, nodding thoughtfully, "even if Mr. Carl Wragg's part had been played by someone else. I would venture to assert that our man from The young friends who came back from the United States will perform much more successfully than Mr. Reg. Let’s not say too much.”
The supper went on... To Maurice Bohun, it was a successful dinner, but to James Bennett the steam was repulsive, and the saber-rattling conversation even more unpleasant.Maurice Bohun commented on each dish.
The clock struck half-past eight.When Thompson removed the water bottle, Maurice stopped Catherine Bohun and Louise Carraway with a soft voice as they tried to leave the table.Sir Henry Merrillville remained silent throughout, and sat stupefied and motionless.
In the great room, Maurice Bohun's high-pitched nut-shelling echoed nowhere.The fire in the fireplace was fading, and the moon hung high on a wall outside the window...
Snapped! ... When the nut tongs were lowered, there was a faint sound.Bennett suddenly pushed away the cold coffee...
"I see: all are nearly ready for the interesting experiment proposed by Sir Henry," said Maurice Bohun, laughing. Such experiments, of course, cannot lead us to discoveries. Although I refrain from telling you the truth at Sir Henry's express request, we have our own doubts. However, for some of us, This rebuild will be quite interesting, especially…”
"Crack! . . . " he bit his jaw, "my dear young friend Miss Louise Carraway . Why, Sir Henry, would you like me to show you all around the house as I did last night?"
"No! . . . " said Sir Henry Merivale, and they seemed a little surprised to remember that he was still here, "no need to be so deliberate. We'll go straight from here to that room. Well, if you like, I'll No objection to your speech. Besides, I might not look too good playing Martha Tate, would I? . . . Hey? . . . " Sir Henry Merrillville coughed and shook his head. "No, we simply It's easier in the dark to imagine her still here. Imagine her walking between you and me. We go first, and the others follow in the same order as they did last night."
Maurice Bohun rose to his feet: "That's it. Louise Callaway with my friend Jarvis Wella, and little Kate with Mr. James Bennett playing the absentee. I'm eager Recommend, everyone act as they did last night. For myself, I usually imagine myself walking and talking to the dead ladies in the house, so even if I see them, any one of them is in the company. By my side, I seldom lose my temper..." Maurice Bohun said triumphantly, and turned around and shouted, "Thompson, keep only one candle, and put out the rest."
As each candle goes out, it's like driving a nail into a door, shutting them in the past, even if it's just the events of last night, a replay with no way back.
The moonlight came in through the window, gently caressing everyone's silhouette, and passing by the face that had turned into the color of skim milk.Foot shadows staggered.Maurice Bohun held the candle in his hand, and the little yellow flame quivered slightly as he lifted it up.The candlelight touched a portrait, which had been blurred due to the color peeling off. On it was a woman in a yellow robe. From the outside they recognized the pair of mysterious and unpredictable eyes, and then the candlelight fell again.
"This way! . . . " said Maurice Bohun, leading the way.
The footsteps scraped against the stone again, and the needle-sized flame moved tremblingly in front of it.James Bennett felt: Catherine Bohun's trembling arm leaned against his.They had just left the maze of corridors when Maurice Bohun, again in his smooth, pleasant little voice, began to speak.
"Look at that lovely woman just now, it's an interesting thing!" He smirked, looking at the space under the candlelight and said, "Her affair with a certain monarch, which can be called God's mercy, is being Protecting her. In addition, she has been in love with four men in her life: one is a famous actor, one is a playwright, one is an active captain named 'John', and one... of course is Her proud husband.
"I mean—er—Barbara Villas Palma, first Mrs. Castleman, later Duchess of Cleveland. Actor is of course Charles Hart, Shakespeare grandson of the great Tragedian of Drury Street, who, they say, could teach any king how to behave. The playwright refers to William Wycheley—a witty dog, ha ha! . . . " Morris Bohun, with a smug smile, "compliments her elegance by 'best known to make the whole world follow its most beautiful and fitting fashion'. The active captain was John Churchill, who later became the Duke of Marlborough Famous (and greedy for money). Husband means Roger Palmer, an obscure figure..."
"There were other lovers, of course. There was a nasty, lowly tightrope walker named Jacob Hall, who sometimes performed puppet shows at St. Bartholomew's Fair. Later in her career, there was a A white-haired rascal named Paul Fielding tried to marry her, and they did. Paul Fielding had a grown daughter, by the way. It occurred to me that if time flies, the seas change ..."
James Bennett saw ahead, the blurred silhouettes of Louise and Jarvis Wella.From the tense movement of her movements he guessed that Louise Carraway was peering forward, as if to pick something out of the darkness.She was shivering as if from cold, and Jarvis Wella stroked her arm tenderly.
James Bennett Bennett could have sworn the stairwells squeaked before Maurice Bohun and Sir Henry Merrillville stepped up.He looked around, and found that he and Catherine Bohun had already distanced themselves from the people in front of them.She raised her head, and in the darkness, he could see her eyes clearly.
"Here..." Catherine Bohun trembled, "there is..."
"Yes, and I am Carl Wraig."
James Bennett touched Catherine Bohun's shoulder, and squeezed it tightly.It was a most foolish thing to do, but as they led the group to King Charles' chambers, mad fate pronounced it inevitable.
A strong sense of emptiness suddenly surged, and it lasted for a while.
At this moment James Bennett felt Catherine Bohun's body tremble, his lips moved away, and then he heard something--"John Wella, you are with Louise" in a whisper, mixed with his heart pounding. The sound of pounding.
Catherine Bohun suddenly galloped, and then he blurted out, "Don't look downstairs when you get to that room," and he thought he said it aloud.But James Bennett, then, in the vacillating darkness, could not be sure of anything except that his wits were so dry that he forgot for a moment where the real Carl Wraig was.
Love and death, love and death...and Catherine Bohun's lips.
Candle flames moved above the stairs, caressing tall portraits in gilt frames.At this time, another painting emerged from the darkness, and it was that damned woman—Barbara Vilas or Martha Tate, and the person in the portrait was smiling...
James Bennett glanced down and was surprised to see that walking beside him was Louise Carraway.She didn't look at him, she clasped her hands together, and her knees slapped.
At this time, Maurice Bohun's soft voice sounded ahead: "Along this corridor, you will notice: a chair that is royal property, a crown called the 'Arm of the King', held by two leaping lions. shaped heraldic support, engraved with the two letters C·R·, this crown is carved on the top of the back of the chair..."
James Bennett stammered and said a few words to Louise Carraway, but he didn't know what he had said. He suddenly found Louise's head, motionless, facing forward, and couldn't help but Surprised.
Candlelight approached the door of King Charles' chamber...
"And here . . . " cried Maurice Bohun, and paused. "This door," he said sharply, "is locked! . . . "
"Ah, yes. Yes! . . . That's it! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville, nodding his head. "Well, don't worry, I have the key. When I open the door, now . . . "
The lock clicked.James Bennett thought "Come on!..." He felt like a man blindfolded with bandages, jumping from an unknown height.
"On the way to the stair-door," Sir Henry Merrillville's voice rose suddenly, and came down the corridor, "everyone remains in the same position as last night. Don't hesitate, just keep going, that's all."
The candle moved into the room.They vaguely saw that the stair door was slightly opened, and they could feel the wind blowing from it.James Bennett, surrounded by more people than he thought, heard someone gasp.
Maurice Bohun was the first to reach the platform, guarding the candle with his hand.Catherine Bohun followed him.James Bennett, not knowing where Carl Wraig was or what to do, followed her with vague hopes, blocking her view of looking down.Maybe the candles couldn't reach that far, he hoped.Jarvis Wella came in next but had to elbow Louise Carraway to persuade her to come in.
Casting his gaze over his shoulder, James Bennett still couldn't see anything at the bottom of the stairs from the darkness.He had a wild, irrational whim that he was stuck in a crowded train, the lights off, roaring through an equally dark tunnel.
The sudden presence at the door of Sir Henry Merrillville's tall but deadly figure reinforced his idea.
"Hello! . . . " cried Sir Henry Merrillville, "I'll close this door for a second. I'll come in with you, just as I stand where Miss Martha Tate once standing position, and then someone blows out the candles. Next, as you move down, as you did before, I'll shine a flashlight on you; I'll shine it downstairs so you can imagine, when Pushing her, causing her to fall, what would she look like then. And, if you happen to see the bottom of the stairs, there's something..."
Sir Henry Merrillville opened the door wider, and a draft caught the flame, and it died out in a single jump.They heard the door close, and they were shut in darkness.
The invisible heights are much more terrifying than the visible ones, as if the darkness has made an alliance with each other and works together to persecute them.Jump down from this height.
James Bennett thought to himself: "Someone gently pushed..." He felt someone in the line move tremblingly and gasped. At this moment, he suddenly found that his heels were on the edge of the abyss.
In the abyss far below, something moved.
"I can't take it! . . . " said a quiet, quick voice behind James Bennett. "Let me out."
The voice came from Louise Carraway, crackling and quivering into hysterical tones, then into a rising moan, as if from a drugged woman.
"You can't make me! . . . " Louise Callaway screamed, "You can't make me jump. I know you want me to, but I won't. I won't, hear No? . . . Bastard, let me out. Turn on the light. I don't regret it, I'll push her one more time. Oh, make sure to turn on the light, let me out, let me out from here, until then..."
Something, rushing violently and blindly.James Bennett felt his heel slip, and he didn't know where he had slipped.He stretched out his hand, but only swung across a bottomless abyss.He felt himself fall, and his stomach tightened; but even at that moment, he knew he couldn't catch anyone, or two people would break their necks.
James Bennett felt his hip sprained as his heels hit the hard stone, and he slammed back against the wall...
James Bennett was still there, he didn't fall, because he held something, his shoulders and leg muscles trembled violently, even though he was pushed by this group, after returning to King Charles' room, the two The leg was still shaking.
"Turn on the light! . . . " he heard Sir Henry Merrillville cry, "you, go and stay by the door! . . . Emory! Turn on the light . . . "
A blinding light came on, seeping through the crack of the door to the platform.James Bennett grabbed the steps and went down the wall to a crab-shaped position to stabilize his body, but his whole body was still shaking and his heart was palpitating.
Kate Bohun is helping them.They went through the door and went back to King Charles' room, and the crowd immediately dispersed as if surrounded by a bomb.Sir Henry Merrillville gestured sharply to Tim Emery, who was standing at the light switch, looking surprised by more than just hearing Louise Callaway's confession.
In James Bennett's mind, Sir Henry Merrillville's instructions to Tim Emery flashed: "No matter what you see or hear, keep quiet until..."
What? ...What is this damn game, what should everyone see? ...
James Bennett stared at Louise Carraway, who was standing in the middle of the room surrounded by the crowd.Maurice Bohun was all smiles, and Jarvis Willard waved his hand in obvious perplexity.
"Don't look at me! . . . " murmured Louise Carraway.She was out of breath and her hair was disheveled.She lowered her head and quickly scanned the group of people, "Apart from dirty tricks, don't you understand anything?...This is really dirty, really dirty!...Can it be more dirty?..." He was hysterical roared, "Yes, I pushed her. So what?...I'll do it ten thousand times more!..."
Maurice Bohun raised his bronze cane as if paying tribute.
"Thank you, my dear girl! . . . " he said softly, "that's what Sir Henry and I wish to know. It was you who tried to murder her. We know you didn't kill Martha Tate, it was Karl Reg did it, we just wanted to complete the picture. That's what Sir Henry and I care about."
"Really? . . . " asked Sir Henry Merrillville.He raised his voice slightly, and there was an echo.
"You tell me, I think..." said Maurice Bohun, laughing, "that it worked. She confessed to trying to murder Miss Martha Tate. Do you doubt that? . . . No, next, you It will imply that she didn't go to the waterside pavilion, and didn't come back before the snow stopped."
"Quite right! . . . " said Sir Henry Merrillville, nodding. "She didn't. I made an experiment, but you don't seem to understand its significance until now. It worked, but you don't understand why, I want everyone here to sit down. Aha... that's it... sit down. Lock that door. When we're all comfortable and comfortable, I'm going to tell you what happened.
"The girl did what she said, I believe. But she never went to the waterside, although she planned to. I don't say she killed Martha Tate, and I don't say she didn't .All I'm saying is that she ate so much barbiturates that she collapsed in the corridor and couldn't get down the stairs."
In the silence, Jarvis Willa said excitedly: "Hey, are you crazy? . . . You say she didn't go to the Waterside, but you say she might be guilty. God, please speak humanly! … ...if she hadn't been there, of course she's innocent."
"Oh, I don't know, that's what I'm going to tell you..." said Sir Henry Merrillville, smiling, "you see, fools, that Martha Tate was killed in this room .”
Notes:
Notes: