Chapter 12 second scene

If Inspector Sam had been a psychologist, or if he hadn't been worrying too much at the time, the crazy Hatter family that day would have provided him with an interesting research opportunity.Forbidden to leave the house, they wandered about like lost spirits, restlessly picking up things and putting them down again, glancing at each other with hatred, avoiding each other as much as possible.Jill and Conrad yelled at each other all day long, quarreled over little things, clashed at the slightest provocation, said hurtful things to each other mercilessly, even in a temper tantrum.Martha kept the child close to her side all the time, beating and scolding almost numbly from time to time, only when Conrad Heit walked past her, did she suddenly lift up her spirits, and then hurled viciousness at him pale and distressed. Even children noticed and couldn't help but ask why.

The more the inspector thought about the clues that had no clue at hand, the more restless he was; the thought that Jerry Lane might have an answer to the matter, and he wondered what answer Lane might have.However, Ryan seemed to be troubled for a special reason, and the inspector couldn't figure out why. Twice in the afternoon, he walked to the phone and wanted to call Hamlet Heights, but each time he pressed his hand on the phone, but was slumped. I found that he had no questions to ask at all, and of course he had nothing to say. The strange passage of the chimney gradually aroused his imagination. Sam forgot about Ryan for a while, went upstairs to the laboratory, and personally measured the piece of fire brick wall separating the two fireplaces. In order to obtain a satisfactory proof, He found that a grown man could climb from room to room by the fireplace with no extra effort... yes, even his huge shoulders could turn freely in the chimney's empty compartment.

He crawled back to the lab and told Pickerson to gather the family together. They came in here and there, not at all interested in the latest order, and all the sudden events and the shock of the fire had made them numb to any accidents.When everyone was present, the inspector began a series of usual questions that apparently no one had expected.They answered mechanically and, at least as far as Sam knew, were honest.When asked about the chimney-pass, he was careful not to reveal its existence directly, believing that either the criminal had acted too well or everyone was telling the truth.He had hoped to lure someone into not telling himself, and even hoped that someone would inadvertently dig out a lie from the dusty memory, but until the end of the questioning, the inspector got no more than he had known before.

When he gave the order to disband, the gang filed out, and Sam sputtered and sank into an armchair in the library, wondering where he had gone wrong. "Inspector." He looked up and saw the tall tutor Peary standing in front of him. "Well, what are you going to do, sir?" Sam growled. Peary replied hastily: "A request for permission to take a day off. I—these events have made me a little—well, Inspector, yesterday is usually my day off, because I'm not allowed to leave the house, and I feel like I need some fresh air..." Sam silenced himself.Peary moved his feet back and forth uneasily, but there was a gleam of anticipation in the depths of his eyes, and the harsh words that had just come to Sam's lips survived, instead, he said in a kind tone: "I'm sorry, Peary , but it's really impossible, and everyone has to stay in the house unless we get something settled here."

The light died, and Peary, despondent, said nothing and sullenly walked out of the library, down the corridor to the back of the house, and out into the garden.The sky was covered with dark clouds, he hesitated for a moment, and then saw Barbara Heit sitting under a large garden parasol reading quietly, and walked across the lawn with happy steps... The afternoon wore on slowly, and the inspector thought that the case was going to drag on.First there's a flash, a dramatic turn of events, an explosive event—and then there's silence, utter silence, a total loss of action.There's something unnatural about the whole thing, a sense of helplessness, and a sense of inevitability, as if everything had been planned long ago and is being relentlessly drawn towards an inevitable The climax of knowing advances.But—what would it be?What is the end?

During this period Captain Trewitt visited, and with his customary quiet manner went upstairs to the deaf, dumb, and blind woman, who was resting upstairs in Miss Smith's room, still in isolation from the world. in a complete vacuum. One of his men came in to report that Attorney Bigelow had come, presumably to visit Jill Hatter.Gurley never reappeared. At four o'clock, as Sam sat idly biting his nails in the library, one of his most trusted men stepped in, with a certain warning look on his face, and the inspector was immediately refreshed. They whispered briefly, and Sam's eyes grew brighter with the words.

Finally he jumped up and ordered the detective to stand guard at the foot of the stairs while he ran up two flights of stairs to the attic. He knows his surroundings well.The two rear doors overlooking the garden are the bedrooms of the maids Virginia and Edgar Peary.The room in the northeast corner is empty, and there is a bathroom between it and the storage room in the southeast corner.To the south was a large store room with a bathroom attached - now a store room, but in the Victorian days of Het House's heyday, it had been a guest room.The entire western room of the attic is used by the Abuko couple.

The inspector did not hesitate.He crossed the corridor, tried the knob of Edgar Perry's bedroom door, found it unlocked, and the inspector flashed in, closing the door behind him.He ran to a window overlooking the garden, and Pi Tuan was sitting under a parasol, talking warmly with Barbara. The inspector grimaced in satisfaction, then let go of his work. It was a plain and tidy room—so similar to its occupant.A high bed, a wardrobe, a carpet, a chair, and a large bookshelf full.Everything seems to be in place. Inspector Sam searched the room very carefully and methodically.He seemed to be particularly interested in the contents of Peary's wardrobe, but it turned out to be futile, and then he turned to a small wardrobe, groping unceremoniously for the pockets of every garment in it... He lifted the rug, opened all the Pages, exploring the space behind rows of books, lifting the sofa cushions of the bed.

This expert carpet search turned up nothing. He thoughtfully put everything he had touched back in its place, and walked over to the window.Peary was still talking animatedly with Barbara, and Jill Height was sitting under a tree now, winking lazily at Chester Bigelow. The inspector went downstairs. He walked to the back of the house and down the wooden steps leading to the garden.There was a thunderclap in the sky, and rain began to fall on the parasols. Neither Barbara nor Peary seemed to be distracted, but Bigelow and Jill, whose soft-talking was suddenly interrupted by Sam's appearance, seemed to be happy. Due to the interference of nature, he used the rain as an excuse and hurriedly got up and went into the house.Bigelow gave the inspector a nervous nod as he passed, and Jill gave him a hard look.

Sam clasped his hands behind his back, smiled up at the gray sky, and walked slowly across the lawn to the parasol. Barbara was saying in her deep voice, "But my dear Mr. Peary, after all..." "I insist that there should be no metaphysics in poetry," said Peary passionately, patting the back of a thin book on the garden table between them with his thin hand, and Sam saw the pages of the book. It's called "The Obscure Concert," by Barbara Heitt, "Oh, I admit you've written it very well—with poetic elegance and rich imagination—" She laughs. "Glory? Oh thanks! At least that's an honest comment, and it's refreshing to discuss it with someone who isn't sycophanting you."

"Cough!" He blushed like a primary school child, and for a moment he didn't seem to know how to speak.Neither noticed that Inspector Sam was standing in the rain and observing them thoughtfully, "Now take the third stanza of your poem, 'Pitchblende', which begins like this: The mountains hang on—” "Ah," said Inspector Sam, "I'm sorry." They turned their heads, startled, the concentration on Peary's face faded, and he stood up awkwardly, his hand still on Barbara's book. Barbara smiled and said, "Well, Inspector, it's raining! Come under our umbrella." "I think," said Peary suddenly, "I'm going in." "Don't worry, Mr. Peary." The inspector grinned and sat down with a gentlemanly sigh. "Actually, I just wanted to talk to you." "Oh!" said Barbara, "then I think I should go in." "No, no," said the inspector magnanimously, "it's all right, just a trifle, nothing serious, some formality. Sit down, Peary, sit down. Bad weather, isn't it?" The spirit of poetry that had painted this person's face a moment ago slipped away quietly with his wings down.Peary's nerves were tense, he suddenly looked much older, Barbara deliberately avoided looking at his face, a dark and wet feeling sneaked under the umbrella at some point. "Well, about your former employer," continued the inspector, in the same genial tone. Peary stiffened: "Yes?" he asked harshly. "How well do you know this James Ridgett who wrote your letter of introduction?" A blush gradually appeared on his face: "How familiar..." The tutor stammered, "How—what can you expect—in this situation." "I see." Sam smiled. "Of course. I was stupid for asking. You worked for him, teaching his kids, for how long?" Peary was taken aback for a moment, then fell silent.He sat as unnaturally still in his chair like an inexperienced knight, and then said in a dead voice: "So you found out." "Yes, sir, we did find out," replied Sam, still smiling. "You see, Peary, it's no use trying to hide from the police. To find out if James Ridgett lived The address on Park Avenue in your letter of introduction, and the fact that there was never James Ridgett, is a child's play. Honestly, it makes me sad that you think you can fool me with such a lie...  " "Oh, for heaven's sake, stop it!" cried Peary. "What do you want—arrest me? Then please, don't torture me like this!" The smile on the inspector's mouth disappeared, and he sat up straight with his chest upright: "Say it, Peary, I want the truth." Barbara Height, without batting an eyelid, stared at the covers of her books. "Well," replied the tutor wearily, "I'm really stupid, I know, and it's even more unlucky to be murdered while pretending to be employed. Yes, I forged the letter of introduction, Inspector." "We made it up," said Barbara Height tenderly. Peary jumped up as if he couldn't believe his ears, and the inspector narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that, Miss Hatter? It's a serious crime under the circumstances." "I mean," answered Barbara in her deep, clear voice, "that, as I said, I knew Mr. Peary before he came here, and he was in need of work and . . . and unwilling to accept money. I know my brother Conrad well, and since he didn't have a letter of introduction, I convinced him to make it up, and it was actually my fault." "Well," said the inspector, shaking his head like the rabbit in the movie, "I see, I see, very well, Miss Hatter, and, as luck would have it, you, Mr. Peary, have such a loyal friends." Peary's face was as pale as Barbara's clothes, and he tugged at the collar of his coat blankly, "So you don't have anyone to write your letter of introduction for you?" The tutor cleared his dry throat: "I—er, I don't know any 'big' people. I desperately need this position, the inspector... the salary...the salary is very good, and I have the opportunity to approach the lady,"—he Choking—"Miss Hatter, her poetry has always been a great inspiration to me... I... this trick works, that's it." Sam's eyes flicked from Peary to Barbara and back again, Barbar was motionless, and Peary was terribly embarrassed. "Well, Peary—do you have any referrals anyway? Who can vouch for you?" Barbara stood up suddenly: "Isn't it enough to have my recommendation, Inspector Sam?" Her tone and green eyes were awe-inspiring. "Of course, of course, Miss Hatter. But I have my duties. What?" Peary flicked through the books: "To be honest," he said slowly, "I've never been a tutor before, so I can't give you any job introduction letters." "Ah," said the inspector, "interesting, and any introductions—except Miss Hatter, I mean?" "I... have no one," Peary stammered, "I don't have any friends." "My God," Sam grinned, "you're a freak, Peary. Come to think of it, you'll never get two people in your life to bail you out! Reminds me of a story about a guy who After living in the United States for five years, he applied to the Immigration Service for naturalization. When he heard that he needed two citizens to be his witnesses, he told the judge that he could not find two familiar American citizens to testify for him. Huh! Huh! The judge refused his application—saying that if he could live in this country for five years..." Sam shook his head sadly. What kind of family do you have? Where are you from? How long have you been in New York?" "I think," said Barbara Hayter grimly, "that the more you ask, the more curious you are, Inspector Sam. Mr. Peary didn't commit a crime. Did he commit a crime? If so, why don't you tell me? Peary Mr. Ray, you—you don't answer. I won't let you. I think it's too much!" She flashed out from under the umbrella, put her hand on the tutor's arm, and, ignoring the rain, led him across the lawn back to the house.He seemed to be in a dream, she raised her head high, neither of them looked back. The inspector sat alone in the rain for a long time.smoking.He fixed his eyes on the door where the poetess and Peary had vanished, and there had been a faint malicious smile on their faces. He stood up, walked slowly across the lawn, entered the house, and yelled at a detective in a vicious voice.