Chapter 6 second scene

From the outset, the Hitt case took on a slow pace.It wasn't a string of crimes in full swing, not a dizzying series of events, and it wasn't the type that was in a hurry.It was very, very slow, almost pacing at a lazy pace, and because of its slowness, it felt all the more cruel and merciless, like a death parade. The slowness of events was in some respects due to its importance, but no one at the time, including Mr. Jerry Lane, noticed or even suspected it.York Hatter disappeared in December, his body was found in February, someone tried to poison the deaf, dumb, blind woman in April, and then, nearly two months later, on a bright Sunday in June morning……

Wren, comfortably secluded in his castle on the Hudson, has long since forgotten about the Hatt case and Inspector Sam's visit; Not a word was said about the whole matter at all, and despite Inspector Sam's best efforts, he could find no further clues as to who might have been the poisoner.When the fever died down, so did the police investigation. until June 5th. When Mr. Jerry Lane got the notification from the phone, he was lying on the empty wall of the old castle with all four limbs stretched out, taking a naked sunbath. Old Quesy struggled to climb up the spiral staircase of the turret, his ghostly face turned purple from exhaustion.

"Inspector Sam..." he panted, "...call, Mr. Wren! He...he..." Ren sat up alertly: "What's the matter, Kuisi?" "He said," gasped the old man, "something happened to the Hatters!" Ren's brown body leaned forward, bent over slender: "It's finally here," he said slowly, "When? Who? What did the inspector say?" Kuisi wiped his sweaty brow: "He didn't say, he was very excited, the inspector really, he yelled at me, I've never been treated like this in my life—" "Kuixi!" Ren stood up, "Hurry up and say it."

"Yes, Mr. Wren. He said that if you want to know what happened, go to Hatter's house immediately. He said that in North Washington Square, he will keep all the physical evidence at the scene for you, but hurry up, he said!" Ren has already rushed down the spiral staircase. Two hours later, Wren's black Lincoln was at the helm of a young, ever-smiling driver whom Wren called Dromeo—Wen liked to call his acquaintances by Shakespeare characters. Limousines weave through the traffic on Lower Fifth Avenue.As they crossed Eighth Street, Wren could see people thronging beyond Washington Square, the police busy keeping order, and the freeway under the arch bridge blocked.Two bikers blocked Dromeo's path.

"Don't go this way!" shouted one of the policemen. "Turn around and take the other way!" A chubby police officer with a red face ran up: "Mr. Wren's car? Inspector Sam told me to pass. Well, boys, this is an official order." Dromeo turned a corner onto Waverly Road.Police had cordoned off the entire northern section of the square, from Fifth Avenue to Mark Doug Street, and traffic was cut off.The sidewalk of the park across the street was crowded with onlookers, reporters and photographers were scurrying like ants, and there were police officers and plainclothes officers waiting in full force.

The vortex of the storm was immediately apparent, and Dromeo pulled the car up to it and stopped.It was a three-story, square, bright red brick building, an obviously very ancient old-fashioned house-a relic from the carriage days of the square, with large windows with heavy curtains and carved cornices on the roof. , a row of high white stone steps, with an iron railing on each side, the steps connect to the bottom of the gate, and there are two rusty cast iron lionesses standing.The steps were filled with police officers, and the white-paneled door was open, and a small vestibule could be seen from the sidewalk.

Lane got out of the car sadly.He was dressed in a cool linen suit, a straw hat, white leather shoes, and held a cane in his hand.He raised his head to look at the gate, sighed, and then stepped up the stone steps, a man poked his head out from the front hall. "Mr. Wren? This way please. Inspector Sam is waiting for you." The Inspector himself--a dark, crimson complexion--was in the house to greet Wren.It was an awe-inspiring interior: a long, shady passage, wide and deep, flanked by closed doors, with an old-fashioned walnut staircase leading to the second floor in the middle.Besides, in contrast to the noisy street outside, the house was as quiet as a tomb, and there was no one around—at least as far as Ryan could see, not even a policeman.

"Well," Sam said mournfully, "this happened." He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, "this happened." It seemed to be the last comment he could only make in words. "Is it Louisa Kabian?" Ryan asked.This question seemed superfluous, since an attempt had been made to take her life only two months ago, who else could it be besides Luisa Kabian? Inspector Sam replied ruefully, "No." Ryan was almost comically stunned: "It's not Luisa Kabian!" he exclaimed, "Who is that..." "Old lady, murdered!" They stood in the shaded corridor and looked at each other, unable to find a look of comfort on each other's faces.

"Mrs. Hatter," Wren repeated for the third time, "that's very strange, Inspector. It seems that someone is trying to murder Hatter's family, not just one person." Sam walked impatiently to the stairs: "You think so?" "I just thought so," Lane said awkwardly. "Obviously you don't agree." They walked up the steps side by side. The inspector walked heavily, as if in deep pain: "I don't disagree, I just don't know what to think anymore." "Poisoned?" "No, at least it doesn't look like it. You can see for yourself later."

At the top of the stairs, they stopped.Ren's eyes sharpened. They stood in front of a corridor surrounded by closed doors, and a policeman stood at the door of each door. "These are the bedrooms, Inspector?" Sam responded with a muffled sound, and stepped over the wooden railing beside the stairway.He suddenly tightened his body and stopped abruptly, while Ren bumped into him inadvertently. It turned out that there was a big policeman who was standing with his back against the door in the northwest corner of the corridor. Because the door behind him was suddenly opened, he backed up with an "Ah yo!"

The inspector breathed a sigh of relief. "It's those two bloody brats again," he yelled. "For God's sake, Hawken. Can't you keep those two brats in the nursery?" "Yes, sir," Hawken replied gasping, looking to be in trouble.A little boy, whooping and yelling all the way, burst from between the officer's fat legs and ran down the aisle with an unstoppable determination.Hawken had just regained his balance when he was immediately bumped by another smaller boy. This young boy who looked like he could barely walk happily imitated the first one, and yelled and yelled from the center of the police officer's legs. rushed out hastily.The officer was in hot pursuit, followed by a distressed woman screaming, "Jackie! Billy! Oh, you kids—it can't be!" "Martha Hit?" Ryan asked in a low voice.She was actually quite a beautiful woman, but the corners of her eyes were covered with crow's feet, and she looked as if her anger had been exhausted long ago.Sam nodded, watching the chaos with a sullen face.Hawken valiantly fights a thirteen-year-old boy, Jackie.From his yelling, it was clear that Billy wanted to come out and see what was going on, and he kicked the officer in the leg while screaming, causing the officer pain and irritation.Martha Hitt held the youngest son, who imitated his brother, who also kicked the officer's knee wildly and vigorously.In such a mess of punches and kicks, red faces, and disheveled hair, the four fighters disappeared behind the door of the nursery.Judging from the screams piercing through the door wall, the scuffle has not yet subsided, but the battlefield has just been shifted. "That," Inspector Sam said sarcastically, "is just a sample of this complex psychotic and eerie family. Two little devils have made us feel like we are in hell... Here it is, Mr. Wren." There was a door directly opposite the landing, not five feet from the east-facing walkway wall.The door was ajar, and Sam pushed it open gravely, then stood aside.Ren stopped a little on the threshold, his eyes flickering with vigilance. The room is almost square and is a bedroom.Across the room are two windows that protrude on the wall directly opposite, overlooking the garden behind the house to the north.There was a door on the east-facing wall near the window, Sam explained, and behind that door was a private bathroom.The door where Ryan and Sam stood was on the left side of the wall that separated the room from the corridor. Ryan noticed that there was a long and deep wardrobe on the right. The wardrobe takes up additional space, and then along the corridor to the east of the wardrobe, there is another room. From where Ryan stood, two beds—both the size of single beds—could be seen against the right-hand wall, separated by a large bedside table that The beds are spaced about two feet apart.The bed next to the door has a small lamp on the headboard, the bed inside has no light, and in the middle of the wall on the left hand side, directly opposite the two beds, is an old-fashioned large stone fireplace, Although there is a complete set of stove boxes hanging on an iron frame nearby, it looks like it has been abandoned for a long time. These observations are made intuitively and instantaneously.After such a quick glance at the general arrangement of the furniture, Ren's eyes returned to the two beds. "Deader than last year's deadfin," muttered Inspector Sam, standing against the doorpost. "Look at it, it's pretty, isn't it?" In the bed by the door--that is, the bed with the lamp-- lay Mrs. Hatter.Sam's comments were superfluous. The old lady was in a mess in her pajamas. She was lying in a distorted posture, her eyes were wide open, her face was abrupt, her veins were exposed, and her face was purple. She was the most unlike creature imaginable. creature.There were some very peculiar marks on her forehead-several streaks of blood stretched out from the tangled dry white hair. Ren squinted to observe the bloodstains, his face was puzzled, and then he turned his attention to another bed.The bed was empty, save for a pile of clean pajamas. "Loisa Kabian's bed?" Sam nodded: "That's where the deaf, dumb, and blind woman sleeps, but we have moved her out of this room. Earlier this morning, she was found lying on the floor here, unconscious." Ren raised his silver eyebrows: "The one who was knocked out?" "I don't think so. I'll tell you the details later. She's in the next room—Miss Smith's bedroom, and the nurse is attending to her." "Then Miss Kabian is safe and well?" Sam smiled with a serious face: "Interesting, huh? Based on past events, everyone would assume that whoever is in this house must be aiming at her, but she is fine, but the old lady was killed. Calculate." There were footsteps in the aisle behind them, and both of them turned their heads quickly, Ren's face brightened: "Mr. Bruno! It's a pleasure to meet you." They shook hands warmly.Walter Bruno, the District Attorney for New York County, was a muscular, serious-looking man of medium height with rimless glasses. He looked tired: "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wren, it seems that we won't meet unless someone dies unfortunately." "It's all your fault, like Inspector Sam, you forgot about me all winter. Have you been here long?" "Half an hour, what do you think?" "I don't know yet," the old actor was still looking around the room of the deceased, "what happened?" The prosecutor leaned against the doorpost: "I just saw that woman named Kabian, poor thing. The body was found by Miss Smith at six o'clock this morning-she slept in the next room and could see the house. The garden at the back and the walkway to the east..." "Do you understand the geography, Mr. Bruno?" Ren murmured. Bruno shrugged: "Maybe it's important. Anyway, Louisa always gets up pretty early. Miss Smith usually gets up at six o'clock and comes in to see what she needs. She found Mrs. Hatter's appearance, and what you see now." Just the same, lying on the bed; and Louisa on the floor, about halfway between her own bed and the fireplace over there, with her head toward the fireplace, her feet almost in the space between the twin beds. Come on , I'll show you." He was about to step into the bedroom, but Ryan put a hand on his arm. "I think I can imagine that," he said, "and I think the less we walk on that floor the better. Go on." Bruno looked curiously: "Oh, you mean these footprints! Well, as soon as Miss Smith saw that the old lady was dead, she thought Louisa was dead too, so she screamed, women are women after all, her screams Woke up Barbara and Conrad Hitt, they ran in, took a look at the scene, didn't touch anything—” "Are you sure about that?" "Well, their statements matched, so we had to believe - nothing was touched, they were sure Mrs Hatter was dead, in fact, she was numbed, however, they found that Louisa was just comatose. They took her Carried into Miss Smith's room from here, Conrad called the family doctor, Dr. Miriam, and the police, and no one was allowed to come in here." "Miriam pronounces Mrs. Hatter dead, and goes to the nurse's room," Sam added, "to attend to the deaf one. She's not there, and we haven't had a chance to talk to her yet." Ren nodded thoughtfully: "What did Miss Kabian look like when she was discovered? I want to hear a more precise description, Mr. Bruno?" "She was found sprawled face down. Doctors said she was passed out with a lump on her forehead and Miriam's theory that she had hit her forehead to the floor as she passed out doesn't help the case. She is awake now, but still a little dizzy, whether she knows what happened to her mother is still a question, and Miriam has not allowed us to inform her." "Has the body been examined?" "Except for Miriam's original examination. As far as I know, it's just a superficial look," Bruno said, and Sam nodded in agreement. "There's no formal examination yet. We're waiting for the medical examiner. Schelling is a famous slow doctor. " Ren sighed.Then he turned firmly to the room again, looking down.His eyes rested on the green short-haired carpet that covered the entire room. From where he stood, he could see some white powdery footprints, which were quite far apart from each other. They seemed to start in the middle of the two single beds. area, though not visible from where Wren stood.The toes are facing the door leading to the corridor, and the footprints are most clearly on the green carpet near the foot of the old lady's bed, and the footprints become more blurred as they get closer to the door. Ren stepped into the room and observed along the route of the footprints.He stopped before facing the space in the middle of the two beds so that he could carefully examine where the footprints started, and now he could see clearly that the footprints had always been scattered in a thick layer of white on the green carpet between the two beds. On the powder; the mystery of the powder's origin was also soon solved, near the foot of Luisa Kabian's bed, there was a large, round, nearly empty box of white talcum powder cardboard gold—according to the description on the box Explain that it is talcum powder, and there is no talcum powder on the carpet between the two beds. Ren deliberately avoided touching footprints and powder, and walked sideways between the two beds in order to have a clearer observation of the bedside table and the floor.Apparently the talc powder box was originally on the edge of the bed table because there were traces of white powder on the table and a round powder ring in one corner of the table, showing that it was there before it fell over.A few inches behind the pink ring, there was a new dent in the wooden table top, as if it had been hit hard with something hard. "In my opinion," Ryan commented, "the box was not closed tightly, so the lid fell off when it hit the ground." He knelt down and picked up a powder box lid from the table foot, "Of course you have already observed all this? ’ Sam and Bruno nodded wearily. There are a few thin parallel lines on the top of the white paper box lid near the edge, and those lines are red.Ren looked up at the two of them suspiciously. "It's blood," said the inspector. The lid of the box where the blood line was located collapsed, as if the object that caused the blood line had been hit so hard that even the edge of the box lid was flattened.Ren nodded. "There is no doubt, gentlemen," said he, "that the compact was evidently swept off the table by a blow, and that the top and lid of the box, bearing marks of the blow, landed on the rug near the foot of Miss Cabian's bed. , because the lid fell off, the powder was scattered everywhere." He put the dented lid back where it had been lifted, his eyes searching.There is so much to see. He decided to examine the footprints first.Between the two beds, where the powder was thickest, there were several shoe-toe prints about four inches apart, running from the head to the foot of the bed, in the direction of the fireplace, slightly parallel to the bed of the deceased.Almost on the edge of the powder, there are two shoe toe prints that are clearly printed by thick talcum powder. From the distance between the footprints, the steps are getting longer and longer. "Basically it proves," Ryan said in a low voice, "the person who left the footprints started to run as soon as he got around the bed." What looked like running footprints, on carpet that hadn't been powdered -- powder from the soles of the runners' shoes. "On the surface, inspector," Ryan raised his head and said, "I say you are lucky, these are the footprints of a man." "We may or may not have been lucky," grunted Sam. "I don't like the look of the footprints for some reason. It's just plain obvious! Anyway, we've taken measurements from a few of the clearer footprints, A size seven and a half, or an eight, or an eight and a half, with a narrow foot, and the heels of both are frayed. My men are now searching the house for matching shoes." "After all, it's probably quite simple," remarked Wren, turning back towards the end of the bed between the two beds. "Then, I guess, Miss Cabian was found lying near the foot of her bed, in the The edge of the powder field, almost at the point where the man's footprints changed direction?" "Yes, she left some footprints herself, as you can see." Ren nodded.From where the talcum powder was sprinkled to where Louisa Kabian fell, there are the footprints of women's bare feet, those barefoot footprints starting at the corner of the deaf-mute's bed where the sheet was turned, along the edge of her bed until the end of the bed. "There should be no doubt about it, I suppose?" "There is no doubt," Bruno replied, "they have confirmed that it was her footprints, and that part is easy to prove. Apparently she crawled out of bed and walked along the edge to the end of the bed, and then something happened there that made her faint. .” Mr. Jerry Lane frowned, as if something had disturbed him, he walked cautiously to Mrs. Hatter's bedside, and leaned over to look at the dead woman.He spent a while looking at the strange mark on the forehead of the deceased that he had noticed before. It was several deep and thin vertical lines, of different lengths, parallel to each other, and slightly inclined to one side—in the direction of the bedside table.The knotted lines didn't run across the entire forehead, they started between the eyebrows and the hairline, and then entered the straight and stiff white hair. Blood is gushing from these weird lines.As if to confirm, Ren's eyes flowed to the carpet under the bedside table, and he nodded.There, half hidden under the table, on top of the strings, lay an old broken mandolin. He knelt down to take a closer look—and then turned to look at his two companions. Attorney Bruno gave a sour smile. "You found it," he said, "the murder weapon." "Yes," Ren replied in a deep voice, "it turned out to be this one, you can see that there is blood on the lower half of the steel string." One of the strings was broken, and all the strings were rusted, as if no one had been there for a long time Pulled, but the red blood mark is unmistakable. Ren picked up the mandolin lying in the powder, and observed while picking it up.On the original lying powder, the imprint of the body of the piano was distinct, and he also saw from observation that there was a new dent on the bottom edge of the instrument, which seemed to match the dent on the table top. "Well, what a marvelous murder weapon, Mr. Wren?" said Inspector Sam in an exasperated tone. "Murder on the mandolin, my God!" He shook his head as if marveling at the ever-changing pace of crime. , "Next time they will use lilies." "Strange, very strange," Wren said deadpan, "so this omnipresent Mrs. Hatter was hit on the forehead with a mandolin... What's interesting about this murder, gentlemen, is that It's not the choice of weapon, it's that this weapon is not lethal enough at all. I mean, judging from the depth of the blow marks, it should not be fatal. Yes, it is indeed very strange... We can use it at this juncture Doctor Sherin." He returned the mandolin to its exact spot on the rug, and turned his attention to the bedside table.He saw nothing intrusive: a plate of fruit (closer to the deaf-mute-blind lady's bedside), a clock, the remains of an overturned powder box, two heavy bookends With an old Bible, a vase of withered flowers. The fruit bowl contained an apple, a banana, a bunch of premature grapes, an orange and three pears. The Chief Medical Examiner of New York County, Dr. Leo Schelling, was not a very mild-mannered man.The countless strange corpses that dotted his official career—suicides, murder victims, unidentified corpses, laboratory remains, drug addicts, and dozens more who died, horrified, or violently died under unknown circumstances— Nature had made him rather hard-hearted.He scoffed at the word "clean" and his guts were as tenacious as his fingers manipulating a scalpel. His colleagues often wondered whether there was a gentle heart hidden under his carapace-like official appearance. However, no one has ever confirmed it. He stalked into Mrs. Emily Hatter's final resting place, nodded absently to the prosecutor, grunted to Sam, babbled incomprehensibly to Mr. Jerry Lane, and commented on the bedroom surroundings. Glancing, looking bleakly at the footprints on the carpet, he dropped his briefcase on the bed - Mr. Jerry Lane was rather horrified as it landed with a thud on the old woman's stiff legs. "Is it okay to step on footprints?" Dr. Xie Lin said suddenly. "Yes," said the inspector, "everything has been photographed and documented. And I want to tell you, doctor, that you'd better do better next time. It's been two and a half hours since I informed you— " "ES ist eine alte Gechichte, doch bleibt sie immer neu," said the short doctor with a string of German, grinning, "as Heine said, only my translation is not as elegant as his original sentence: although it is an old story, But always as new... Take it easy, Inspector, the dead lady was very patient." He pushed up the front brim of his cloth cap—his head was as bald as an egg, and he was sensitive to it—and slouched around the bed, stamping his feet indifferently, and set to work. The smile disappeared from his chubby face, and the eyes behind the old-fashioned gold-rimmed glasses became very focused.Ren noticed that when he saw the vertical bloodstain on the forehead of the deceased, his purple-blue lips pursed, and he nodded when he caught sight of the mandolin on the ground.Then he took the dead man's gray head very carefully between his strong hands, and began to part the hair, feeling rapidly in various places on the skull. Something was clearly wrong, for his face stiffened, and he tore off the disheveled sheet, and spent a minute examining the dead man's body. They watched in silence.Obviously, the experienced forensic doctor became more and more confused; he murmured in German: "Damn!" He shook his head several times, bit his lip, and hummed a short drinking song from time to time... Suddenly, He turned to face the crowd. "Where is this woman's personal doctor?" Inspector Sam left the room and returned in two minutes, followed by Dr. Miriam.The two doctors greeted each other with extreme formality like duelists. Dr. Miriam walked around the bed in a dignified way. They both bent over the corpse at the same time, pulled up their thin nightgowns, and talked in low voices while examining the corpse.At this moment Louisa Kabian's nurse, the fat Miss Smith, hurried into the room, snatched the fruit plate from the bedside table, and hurried out again. Sam, Bruno and Ryan watched silently. Finally the doctors straightened up, Miriam's delicate old face showed a certain uneasiness, and the forensic doctor pulled his cloth cap down to cover his sweaty forehead. "What about your judgment, doctor?" the prosecutor asked. Dr. Schelling grimaced: "The woman didn't die from a blow."—Mr. Jerry Lane nodded happily—"Dr. Miriam and I agree that the blow itself is not enough to startle her. cause further harm." "So," growled Inspector Sam, "what the hell killed her?" "Well, Inspector, if you want to get ahead of me," said Dr. Schelling rather sullenly, "what's your hurry? It was the mandolin that killed her, though indirectly. What? What happened? What happened that day?" The blow caused her a severe shock, why? Because she was very old--sixty-three--and Dr. Miriam said she had a serious heart attack. Didn't he, Mister Doctor?" "Oh," replied the Inspector, looking relieved, "I see, someone gave her a blow on the head, and that blow frightened her feeble heart, and she died. So, She probably died in her sleep after all." "I don't think so," said Mr. Jerry Lane. "On the contrary, Inspector, she's not only not asleep, but she's very, very awake."—the two doctors nodded in unison—"There are three proofs. No. One, notice that her eyes are open, staring wide, frightened, visibly awake, Inspector...Second, you can see that unique expression on her face,"—such The words were really gentle, and Emily Hitter's aging facial features were distorted by extreme pain and sudden shock—"Even her hands were half clenched into fists, and her fingers were stretched out... Third, this point is relatively obscure," Lei said. En walked to the bed and pointed to the blood on the dead man's forehead caused by the strings of the mando cup. "The location of these blood marks proves beyond doubt that Mrs. Hatter was sitting on the bed when she was attacked." "How do you know?" Inspector Sam was quite unconvinced. "Why, it's very simple. If she had been asleep when she was shot—in other words, lying down, and from her general posture, she was lying flat on her back—then the string wound would not have been just It's on the top of the forehead, but it's also on the lower half, it's supposed to be on the nose, maybe even on the lips. Since the bloodstains are limited to the top, it can be seen that she is sitting half up if not sitting upright .If this is true, we can immediately conclude that she is awake." "Excellent idea, sir," said Dr. Miriam, standing stiffly, wringing his long fingers nervously. "It's really just a superficial observation. Dr. Schelling, when do you think Mrs. Hatter died?" Dr. Schelling took out an ivory toothpick from his vest pocket and began to drill between his teeth: "It's been six hours since she died, that is to say, she died at about four o'clock this morning." Ren nodded: "One thing may be very important, doctor, that is, the exact location where the murderer was when he attacked Mrs. Hatter. Can you explain this in detail?" Dr. Schelling squinted his eyes and looked at the bed thoughtfully: "I think so, the murderer was standing between the two beds—not the side outside the old lady's bed. I can infer from the bloodshot. What do you think, Dr. Miriam?" The old doctor was taken aback: "Ah——I totally agree," he replied hastily. Inspector Sam scratched his fat chin irritably: "Mandolin, this thing...somehow, it doesn't feel right to me. I mean, whether the heart is good or not, mandolin How can such a blow kill her? I mean—if someone really intends to kill, even if he chooses a strange weapon, he must choose a deadly one." "Well, it's not out of the question, Sam," replied the medical examiner, "that one hard blow from a mandolin, which seems to be a rather insignificant weapon, could kill a medical condition like Mrs. Hatter's." Bad and old women, but the blow we're seeing here, it's pretty weak." "Are there no other signs of violence on the body?" Wren asked. "No." "Where's the poison?" asked the prosecutor. "Are there any signs?" "No sign," replied Dr. Schelling cautiously, "but on the other hand—yes, I ought to have an autopsy done right away." "You can bet your German boots, you gotta do it," Inspector Sam said, taking the opportunity to retaliate, "and make sure no one here throws any more poison. Somebody beat the old witch with a club, and I'll have to look around for signs of poison." Bruno's sharp eyes sparkled: "Of course it was murder, even if the blow itself wasn't the direct cause of death—just the shock it caused. One thing's for sure: there was an attempt to kill." "Then why was it so light, Mr. Bruno?" Lane asked without emotion, and the prosecutor shrugged, "and why," the old actor continued, "choose such a very abnormal weapon? - Mann Dolin! If the murderer's purpose was to kill Mrs. Hatter with a club over the head, why did he choose a mandolin when there are several heavy weapons in this room?" "My God, I didn't think of that," Sam murmured as Ryan pointed out the set of pokers hanging by the fireplace and the pair of heavy bookends on the bedside table. Ryan turned around and glanced at the room, clasped his hands lightly behind his back, Dr. Schelling began to look impatient, Dr. Miriam was still standing stiffly like a soldier undergoing a review, the District Attorney and Sam looked more and more It's getting more and more confusing. "Also, by the way," Ren finally murmured, "was the mandolin originally placed in this room?" "No," replied the inspector, "from the glass cabinet in the library downstairs. The old lady kept it there after York Hatter committed suicide--another treasure of her widow's, Jean York's... hey, speaking of which—" Then Mr. Jerry Lane raised his hand suddenly for silence, and his eyes narrowed.Dr. Schelling was about to pull up the sheet to cover the dead woman, and just as he was pulling the sheet tight, a small object, glistening in the sunlight from the window, fell from the folds of the bedcover onto the powder-stained carpet. . Ren strode forward and lifted it up. That's a hypodermic syringe. They all gathered around, cheered up by this important discovery.Ren carefully held the barrel end of the syringe, sniffed the needle that had been dipped in the medicine, and held it up to the light. Dr. Schelling snatched the syringe from Ryan without saying a word, and retreated to a window with Dr. Miriam. "Empty syringe," murmured the medical examiner, "what is the number 6 above? The sediment in the syringe may be—maybe..." "What?" Ren asked impatiently. Dr. Schelling shrugged: "I'll have to do a test to find out." "Aren't there injection holes on the corpse?" Ren still didn't relax. "No." All of a sudden, Ryan felt as if he had been shot, his chest straightened, his eyes gleamed with gray-green light... Sam was speechless.Mr. Jerry Lane's countenance brightened, and he strode toward the door, shouting, "Nurse—room—" Everyone filed to catch up. Miss Smith's room adjoins the dead man's room.When everyone entered, what appeared in front of their eyes was a quiet picture. Lying on the bed with her fat and slack, her eyes open and blind, was Luisa Kabian.Sitting on the chair beside the bed, stroking the deaf man's forehead, was a fat old nurse.Luisa mechanically picked grapes from a bunch of grapes in her hand and stuffed them into her mouth, chewing without interest. On a table near the bed was a fruit plate that Miss Smith brought from the bedroom of the deceased not long ago. . Without further ado, Mr. Jerry Lane rushed into the room and snatched the grapes from Louisa's hand. The action was so brutal that Miss Smith jumped up from the chair in shock. The deaf, dumb and blind的女子从床上坐直起来，蠕动着嘴唇，平时空无表情的脸上露出惊惶的神色，开始像受惊动物一样地呜咽，手探出去寻找史密斯小姐，迅速抓紧后者的手。她哆嗦的肌肤活络起来，手臂上立刻爬满了鸡皮疙瘩。 “她吃了多少？”雷恩冲口问。 护士一脸苍白：“你把我吓坏了！—……一把吧。” 米里安医生快步赶到床边；那女人一感到他碰触自己的额头，呜咽立刻停止。 他缓缓开口：“她好像没事。” 哲瑞·雷恩先生用手帕按按额头，手指头显然还在发抖：“我担心我们晚来一步，”他有点沙哑地说。 萨姆巡官用力提起拳头，大步跨向前，瞪着水果盘：“毒药，呃？” 所有的人都看着那盘水果，摆在他们面前的，有苹果、香蕉、橘子和三颗梨子。 “是，”雷恩应道，他深厚的嗓音低沉，“我确定是。各位先生，依目前摆在眼前的事实，整个案子的局势已经……改观。” “到底在——”布鲁诺开口，一副仓皇失措、大惑不解的样子。雷恩不予理会地扬扬手，仿佛无意于此刻多做说明，他注视露易莎·卡比安，在米里安医生安抚之下，她已经安静下来，茫茫然地躺在床上。四十年的横逆似乎没有在她光滑的容颜上留下什么痕变，就某种程度来说，她算是颇有姿色，小巧尖俏的鼻子，弧线优雅的樱唇。 “可怜的东西，”雷恩喃喃自语，“不知道她在想些什么……”他转身面对护士，目光锐利起来，“刚才你从隔壁房间的床头桌把这盘水果拿过来，”他说，“那个房间惯常摆着水果吗？” “是，先生。”史密斯小姐不安地回答，“露易莎特别爱吃水果，那边床头桌上随时都摆着一盘水果。” “卡比安小姐有没有对什么水果特别偏好？” “噢，没有，只要是时令的水果她都喜欢。” “原来如此。”雷恩状似困惑，他欲言又止，咬咬唇，然后俯首沉思，“黑特太太呢？”最后他又开问，“她也吃水果盘里的水果吗？” “只有偶尔。” “不是常常？” “不是，先生。” “黑特太太也是各种水果都喜欢吗，史密斯小姐？”他问得很沉着，但是布鲁诺和萨姆都听出其中别有用意。 史密斯小姐也意识到了，她缓缓回答：“这问题问得很奇怪。不，先生，她有一样最讨厌的水果，她不喜欢梨子——已经好几年没吃了。” “啊，”哲瑞·雷恩先生说，“太好了，家里每个人都知道这回事吗，史密斯小姐？” “噢，是的，好多年来这一直是家里的一个笑话。” 哲瑞·雷恩先生似乎十分满意，他点了好几次头，投给史密斯小姐友善的眼光，然后，从靠护士床边的桌子，低头看那盘从露易莎·卡比安房间拿过来的水果。 “她不喜欢梨子，”他喃喃地说，“注意看，巡官，我敢说这些梨子得仔细检验一番。” 盘中三颗梨子里有两颗十分完美——金黄，圆熟，坚实。第三颗……雷恩把它拿在手里好奇地转动，梨子已经开始腐烂，外皮有棕色的斑点，而且每个斑点都软软、烂烂的。雷恩轻叹一声，把梨子举近右眼不到三英寸的距离。 “正如我所料，”他自语，以微带胜利的姿态转向谢林医生，“给你，医生，”他说着，把三颗梨子交给法医，“你会发现烂掉的那颗果皮上有针孔，除非我真的看走眼了。” “毒药！”萨姆和布鲁诺同时惊呼。 “不应该说得太早，但是——我想是的，没错……为了确定起见，医生，三颗都化验，等你确定是哪一种毒药以后，让我知道，到底梨子腐烂是由毒药引起的，还是梨子在注射毒药以前就腐烂了。” “的确。”谢林医生说，像捧宝似地捧着三颗梨子迅速离开房间。 萨姆巡官慢吞吞地说：“这其中有异……我的意思是，如果毒药是下在梨子里，而老太太不吃梨子——” “那么谋杀黑特太太可能只是件意外，根本不是预谋的——毒梨子事实上要害死这个可怜的女人！”布鲁诺做结论说。 “对，对！”巡官喊道，“对，布鲁诺！凶手潜进房间，把毒药注射到梨子里，然后老太太醒过来——懂吧？甚至她可能认得凶手——记得她脸上的表情吗。所以呢？一挥！她头上中了曼陀林琴一记，一命呜呼。” “对，现在终于有点眉目了，毒梨子无疑就是两个月前在蛋酒奶下毒的同一个人的杰作。” 哲瑞·雷恩先生未发一言。他眉宇之间微带疑惑。史密斯小姐似乎惊惶不已，至于露易莎·卡比安，对于官方刚才认定她已经是第二次谋杀企图的对象这件事，全然无知——露易莎·卡比安以一种生于黑暗与绝望环境特有的执拗，紧紧抓住米里安医生的手指。