Chapter 23 fourth scene

Things seemed destined to have a hiatus.This case, which started with conspiratorial violence, seemed to have a purpose for no reason, and the blatant crimes swept through the crazy Heite family one after another, but today there was a sudden silence, as if after a long period of power accumulation, it accidentally bumped into an unshakable force. The barrier fell to the ground and shattered, unable to move a single bit. This is a testing period.It had been six peaceful days since Wren's visit to Dr. Ingels' laboratory.Inspector Sam ran headlong into a dead end, and wandered around in a daze, but found nothing.Hayt Mansion appears to have returned to its former appearance, that is to say, its inhabitants resumed their usual distinctive way of life, free from the police, who in fact were powerless to do anything about it.All week, the press was full of negative reports, as one newspaper put it, that the Crazy Hatters appeared to emerge unscathed from "this latest shenanigan." "Another harrowing example of rising crime in America," said one news editor earnestly. "Whether law-abiding citizens or criminals alike, it seems to be becoming more and more popular to kill people without paying for them — and to rest easy." .”

So things were deadlocked until Thursday morning, nearly two weeks after Mrs. Hatter's murder, when Mr. Jerry Lane decided to pay a visit to Police Headquarters. Inspector Sam looked as if he had been under pressure all week.He welcomed Renn with an almost begging attitude. "How do you do, man!" he yelled. "Where the hell have you been all this time? I've never seen a man in my life as happy as seeing you now! Any good news?" Ren shrugged, with a determined expression on his face, but his mood was still very depressed: "What I lack these days is good news, inspector."

"Ha! Crazy," said Sam, rubbing an old scar on the back of his hand, falling into melancholy thoughts, "no one has an iota of intelligence." "As far as I know, you haven't made much progress." "Do you need to tell me?" Sam gritted his teeth and cried, "I started from the direction of that detective story, and I have chased it to the end. It turned out to be the most important clue in this case. What did I find?" A rhetorical question that does not need to be answered, but the inspector still provided the answer himself, "There is nothing, that is the result!"

"What did you expect to find, Inspector?" Wren asked quietly. "Of course I thought that would lead me to the murderer!" cried Sam, eyes blazing, "but I can't figure it out, it's such a disgusting mess. Ugh!" He collected himself, "It's no use jumping and screaming like that... Listen, I'll tell you what it looks like to me..." "Please." "York Hay wrote a detective novel, or as you say, the outline of a novel, using characters from his own family as a background, the same house, and so on. Nothing original, eh? But I had to Said that the materials he can use are too abundant, and they are all ready-made."

"I'm afraid I have to accuse Mr. Hatter of underestimating his material," Wren murmured, "he would never have guessed that there would be such a possibility, inspector, if he knew first..." "Well, but he just doesn't know," growled Sam, "so he sits down and plays with the idea of ​​the novel and thinks, 'That's great! A bunch of gibberish—and writing myself out as a criminal.' In the story, mind you..." "Very clever, Inspector." "Well, if you agree that's the thing," grunted Sam, "now, listen to me. Wait until he's dead himself—something he didn't expect when he set out to write the mystery novel, I'll bet you! —and here comes a man, discovers his plan, and uses the plan in this story to direct himself to a real murder..."

"exactly." "Exactly what!" Sam yelled. "It's all bullshit, and it doesn't make sense at all, though it seems to make sense! The only sense that can be wrung out is that someone was caught by York Hayter's idea." Insinuating that it is possible for anyone!" "I think you're overestimating the potential in this," Wren said. "What do you mean by that?" "never mind." "Well, maybe you're smarter than I am," said the inspector displeased, "so I say it's a really ridiculous case, following the outlines of a detective story!" He pulled out a bandanna and pressed his nose hard three times , "It's a bad detective story, I tell you. But in a way, it helps. There are a lot of things in true crime that can't be explained at all. So I guess if we can't explain it, we can blame it." Hayt's plot design is poor."

Ryan said nothing. Sam went on petulantly, "One more thing," examining a piece of nail intently, "you know, when you told me about the syllabus last week, I respected your request not to ask questions quite a bit. No To tell you the truth, Bruno and I have great admiration for your abilities, Mr. Wren, frankly—you have something, I can't say what, it may be something that Bruno and I don't have, and we know it. Otherwise we I will not allow an outsider to do whatever he wants." "I am very grateful, Inspector." Ryan replied in a low voice. "Well. But I'm not entirely stupid," the inspector went on slowly, "and you don't expect my patience to last. There are only three ways you can discover that outline. One is that you dig it up from somewhere. , this seems impossible, because we have searched the house from the beginning to the end before you. Second—you get information from the murderer himself, of course, that doesn’t matter, for obvious reasons. Third—you Just guessing, following an inspiration. But if that's the case, how do you know for sure that York Height is the criminal in the middle of the plot? So don't even think about it. I admit I'm stuck, man, I'm very I don't like this feeling!"

Mr. Jerry Lane moved his body and sighed, but his painful eyes were mistaken for impatience because of what he said: "This logic is bad, inspector, forgive me for saying this, but I just can't talk to you Discuss more." He was silent for a while, and then said, "At the same time, I am obliged to give you an explanation." He stood up under Sam's gaze and began to pace eagerly: "Inspector, this is the most unique case you have ever done in crime. Since I became interested in criminology early last year, I have read countless books. Records of old cases, and keep an eye on recent cases to familiarize yourself with developments in this area. If I tell you that in the entire history of criminal investigation, there has never been a more-how to say-more difficult, complicated, And an unusual crime, you can trust me to be right."

"Perhaps," replied Sam angrily, "I just know it's a case—difficult." "The complexity of this is incomprehensible," Wren murmured. "It's not just about crime and punishment, Inspector. It's complicated by pathology, abnormal psychology, sociology, and ethics." question..." He paused, biting his lip, "Let's not engage in such aimless discussions. Is there any new development in Heite Mansion?" "Everything remains the same and it looks like it's about to clear up." "Don't be fooled," Ren yelled sharply, "It hasn't rained yet, this is just a gap, a short ceasefire during the battle... Has there been another poisoning incident?"

"No. Doctor Dupin, the expert stationed in the mansion, watches every drop of food and drink very closely, and has no chance at all." "Louisa Kabian... Has Barbara Height made up her mind?" "Not yet. Conrad has shown his true colors. He's been urging that poor girl to give up--blatantly, literally. Of course Barbara saw through his intentions. You know what that bastard has the audacity to suggest?" "what?" "He suggested to Barbara that if she refused to take care of Louisa, he would refuse, and that when old Captain Trewitter took over the job, they could all protest against the invalidation of the will! What a magnanimous brother. Once she said yes, he would He will betray her and take on the responsibility of taking care of that woman himself. After all, 300,000 is not a small amount."

"What about the rest?" "Jeil Hatter eats and plays as usual. Talks bad about her mother. Gets Gurley back in her hands and kicks Bigelow off. It's—" said Sam sinisterly, " Couldn't have been nicer to Bigelow. But he didn't think so--he was in a rage, his dignity was shattered--and he didn't show up at Hatter's for a whole week. That's the way it is. Promising, isn't it?" Ren's eyes flashed: "Is Louisa Kabian still sleeping in Miss Smith's room?" "No, she was quite sensible. She moved back to her own room, which had been cleared, and Miss Smith stayed the night with her, in the old lady's bed. I didn't think she had the guts." Ren stopped pacing and faced the inspector directly: "I am trying to muster up the courage, inspector, and I want to ask you to show more patience and mercy." Sam stood up, and they stood facing each other—one huge and ugly, one tall and lanky. "I don't understand you," said Sam. "I must ask you to do one more thing for me, but don't ask me why." "It depends," Sam said. "Very well, your men are still stationed inside and outside Heite's mansion?" "Yes, how is it?" Ren didn't answer right away.He searched the inspector's eyes, and his own eyes were full of childish pleading. "I want you," he said slowly, "to remove every policeman and agent stationed at Hayt Mansion." Even Inspector Sam, who was so accustomed to Mr. Jerry Lane's eccentricity, had not expected such an astonishing request. "What!" he yelled, "leave that place completely unguarded?" "Yes," Ryan said in a low voice, "completely retreat, as you said, this is not only urgent, but also necessary." "Including Doctor Dupin? Why, boy, do you know what you're talking about, it will give those poisonous hands a chance!" "That's exactly my purpose." "But my God," Sam yelled, "we can't do this! We're inviting another attack!" Ren nodded calmly: "You got the point, Inspector." "But," stammered Sam, "someone's got to be in the house protecting the family, and getting the bad guy!" "Someone will be there." Sam was dumbfounded, as if he suddenly began to wonder if the old actor was in his right mind: "But I thought you just said you didn't want us to stay there." "That's right." "Uh?" "I'll be there myself." "Oh!" Sam changed his breath, and he immediately thought deeply, staring intently at Leith for a long time, "I see, old trick, hey? But they know you're one of us, unless—" "That's exactly what I mean," Ryan complied feebly. "I don't appear in my original identity, but in someone else's identity." "Someone they know, well, and someone they won't be on their guard," murmured Sam. "Not bad, not bad at all, Mr. Wren, if you can fool 'em. But then again Well, it's not a stage play, it's not a detective story, you think, you've got a way to make up—I mean, this good without—" "That's the risk I had to take," Lane said. "Quisy is a genius. Because he knows what to do, his craft is superior to others. As for myself... this is not the first time I have stepped in," he said. He said sarcastically, and then put on his clothes, "Okay, inspector, don't waste your precious time. Will you agree to my request?" "Uh, well," Sam said hesitantly, "no harm anyway, I guess, as long as you're extra careful. We're going to take the boys out sooner or later, anyway... OK, how do you say it's going to work?" Ryan asked brightly, "Where is Edgar Peary?" "Back to Hatter Mansion. We released him and told him to stay there until we've closed the case." "Notify Mr. Peary at once, and tell him to come here as soon as possible under the pretext of questioning him again." Half an hour later, Edgar Peary was presented as Sam's guest of honor, and his eyes shifted nervously between Wren and the inspector.The troubled face of Mr. Actor was gone. Although he was quiet, he was very alert.He examined his governess minutely, measured his figure, and took note of every detail of his manner and appearance.Sam sat by, anxious and frowning. "Mr. Peary," Wren finally said, "you can make a great contribution to the police." "Ah-yes," Peary replied vaguely, his blank eyes full of thought. "We're going to get rid of the police stationed at Het's mansion." Peary looked alarmed. "Really?" he called. "Yes, at the same time, we must leave someone in the room just in case." - The tutor's frightened look disappeared, and the expression of thought returned to his face - "Of course, it must be a person who can move freely in the room , and at the same time observe everyone without arousing suspicion. Do you understand what I mean?" "It should be—isn't it?" "Needless to say, the policeman," Wren went on briskly, "is not suitable. I ask your consent, Mr. Peary, to replace you at Hayt House." Peary blinked. "Replace me? I don't know much about..." "I have one of the greatest make-up artists in the world. I chose you because you were the only one in my family with the least danger of being detected. , and the looks won't be too far apart, at least you don't have any features that Kuixi can't replicate in me." "Oh, yes, you're an actor." Peary replied vaguely. "Do you agree?" Peary didn't answer right away: "Uh..." "You'd better say yes," Inspector Sam put in sullenly, "you haven't got your trousers clean in this muddy water, Kabian." Anger flashed through those gentle eyes, and then went out again. The tutor's shoulders sank: "Okay," he whispered, "I agree."