Chapter 8 Chapter VII Evidence

Officer Quinn knew better than any head of the NYPD what to do in such matters. Within five minutes the house was under martial law again, the living room turned into a makeshift laboratory, the coffin with its double horrific contents lying on the floor.Khalkis' study was requisitioned as a conference room, and all exits were posted.The door to the living room was closed, and Willie leaned his broad back against the paneling.Dr. Brody took off his shirt and was busy with the second body on the ground.In the study, Deputy Attorney Pepper was on the phone.People come and go in and out of this house, each with a mysterious mission.

Ellery Quinn turned to her father, and the father and son smiled wryly at each other. "Well, one thing is for sure," said the police officer, licking his lips, "that your set of ideas has finally uncovered a murder case that might never have been discovered otherwise." "I'll see that horrible face in my sleep too," murmured Ellery.His eyes were bloodshot, and he held a pince-nez which he kept turning between his fingers. The officer took a well-placed breath. "Put him right, Doc," he said firmly to Dr. Brody. "I'm going to have that group come in and take a look."

"I'm ready now. Where are you going to put him?" "Better get him out of the coffin and put him on the floor. Get a blanket, Thomas, and cover him with only his face." "I've got to get some perfume or something to sprinkle it on to kill the stink," Dr. Brody grumbled humorously. After all the preparations were done, the second body was hastily made available for viewing, so that it could be identified. These people went in and out of the living room one by one, trembling and pale, and they didn't seem to know who the dead was.Did they see it all?Definitely see it.Everyone said they had never seen the man before.How about you, Sloane?Oh, never seen it! —for Sloan was very, very sad; the sight made him queasy, and he held a little bottle of carbolic acid in his hand; and kept sniffing it to his nose.Joan Bright could see that she was thinking, she focused her will, and kept her eyes fixed.Mrs. Simms was dragged from her hospital bed and ushered in by Wegsch and a detective. She had no idea what was going on, and after a horrifying look at the strange dead man's face for a moment, she screamed. With a bang, she fainted, and Wegersch and the three detectives worked together to take her back to the upstairs residence.

Gather everyone in Khalkis' study room again.The officer and Ellery followed closely behind them, leaving Dr. Brody alone in the living room with the two corpses.Pepper, the very excited Pepper, waited for them restlessly at the door. His eyes sparkled. "Problem solved, Sergeant!" he whispered earnestly. "I just felt like I've seen that face somewhere before. Now I'll tell you where you saw it." Its—it's in the criminal picture gallery!" "It seems so. Who is he?" "Well, I just called Yaoden, who was my former law partner--you know, sir, before I came to Simpson's department. I had an idea, and I was Know the fellow. Yaodun recalled it for me. The fellow's name is Albert Grinshaw."

"Greenshaw?" The officer stopped suddenly. "Could it be the counterfeiter?" Pepper laughed. "That's a good memory, officer. But counterfeiting is just one of his things. Five years ago, when we were starting the law firm of Yewton and Pepper, I was Greenshaw's law firm." Defense lawyer. We lost the case, and Greenshaw was sentenced to five years in prison. These are all what Yao Dun said just now. After all, Greenshaw must have just been released from prison!" "Is that so? Coming out of Sing Sing Prison?" They entered the study, and everyone looked at them.The officer said to one of the detectives: "Hesse, run back to the headquarters and check the files of Albert Greenshaw. He is a counterfeiter. He has been locked up in Sing Sing Prison for the past five years." A detective scurried away. "Thomas." Willie looked down at him. "You arrange for someone to follow up on Grimshaw's activities after he was released from prison. Find out how long he's been out—perhaps enough time to do something. What a good thing, right?"

Pepper said: "I also called the prosecutor to report this new situation to him. He ordered me to take care of the affairs here on his behalf - he was busy investigating the bank over there. What was found on the body to prove that he Identity thing?" "Not a single thing. Only odds and ends, two coins, and an old wallet with nothing in it. Not even a clue to the clothes." Ellery's eyes met Joan Bright: "Miss Bright," he said softly, "I just stumbled across that when you were looking at that corpse in the living room, uh...you know that person Why do you say you never saw him?"

Joan's face changed; she stamped her foot: "Mr. Quinn, you're insulting! I don't—" The police officer said coldly: "Do you know him, or do you know him?" She bit her lips: "It's a long story, and I think it's okay to say it, because I don't know his name..." "The police are the most judgmental in these cases," said Pepper solemnly, "and if you knew anything, Miss Bright, you could be charged with knowing." "Am I going to be charged, really?" She threw up her head. "But I don't know anything, Mr. Pepper. I wasn't sure at first glance. His face was—was . . . " She shuddered. "Now that I think about it, I do remember seeing him. Once—no, twice. Although, as I've said, I didn't know him What is your name."

"Where did you see him?" said the inspector bluntly, seemingly unmoved by the fact that she was a pretty girl. "It's in this house, Sergeant." "I'm on the verge of it, sir." She paused deliberately, and then resumed her confident manner.She returned a friendly smile to Ellery, who nodded encouragingly. "I first saw him a week ago on Thursday night." "September 30th?" "Exactly. The man came to the door about nine o'clock in the evening. I've told you twice, I don't know—" "His name was Greenshaw, and his name was Albert Greenshaw. Go on, Miss Bright."

"A maid opened the door to let him in, and at that very moment I happened to pass the hall..." "Which maid?" asked the inspector. "I don't see any maid in this house." "Oh!" she seemed startled, "but then--look how confused I am!--of course you couldn't know. Just now, there were two maids employed in the house, but These two were both ignorant and superstitious women, and on the day Mr Khalkis died, both insisted on leaving. We couldn't keep them, they called this place 'a house of death'." "Wegersch, is that so?"

The manservant nodded, but said nothing. "Go on, Miss Bright. What happened? What else did you see?" Joan sighed: "Not much, Inspector. I just saw the maid go into Mr. Khalkis' study, lead this man by the name of Greenshaw in, and back out. That's all I saw that night. " "Did you see this man leave?" Pepper interjected. "No, Mr. Pepper..." When she called him, the last syllable of his name was so long that Pepper turned away angrily, as if to hide an unwelcome feeling that a prosecutor should not Some emotions. "Miss Bright, when was the second time you saw him?" asked the inspector.He glanced secretly around the crowd; they all craned their necks and listened intently.

"The second time I saw him was the next night—a Friday night a week ago." "By the way, Miss Bright," Ellery interrupted in a peculiar tone, "I think you're Khalkis' secretary?" "You're right, Mr. Quin." "And Khalkis is a blind man with no one to serve him?" She pouted slightly in denial: "Blind is blind, but he doesn't need to be served. What's the matter?" "So, did Khalkis speak to you on Thursday about this guest—about this person who's coming tonight? Did he ask you to make arrangements for him?" "Oh, that's it! . . . No, he didn't. He never said a word to me about having an audience on Thursday night. To my complete surprise. In fact, perhaps to Mr. Khalkis's complete surprise." Just listen to me." She raised her dark eyebrows slyly, revealing a girlish anger, "you people are really interrupting... Friday is different. Friday-- It was the first of October, Sergeant Quinn—after supper, Mr. Khalkis called me into his study, and gave me some very detailed instructions. Very detailed instructions indeed, Sergeant, and—” "Wait, wait, Miss Bright," said the Inspector impatiently, "don't be sloppy with us." "If you are on the witness stand," said Pepper rather dissatisfied, "you are obviously an unqualified witness, Miss Bright." "Is that so?" she murmured.She got up and sat on Khalkis' desk, with her legs crossed and her hem slightly lifted. "Excellent. I'm going to be a model witness. Isn't that the right pose, Mr. Pepper? . . . Mr. Kharkis told me he was having two guests that evening. It was going to be late. One of them, he said , came here incognito, in other words—Mr. Khalkis said that this person was desperate to keep his identity a secret, and it was my duty not to let anyone see this person." "Strange," Ellery whispered. "Strange thing?" said Joan. "That's very well, then. He ordered me to lead the two myself, and to take care that the servants should not meet them. After leading, I went to bed--that's how it is, how strange it seems to you." Of course, added Mr. Khalkis, what he was discussing with these two guests was a purely private matter, so I didn't ask a word, and followed his instructions. I've always been such a perfect secretary. My fair lady should be like this, I wonder if my lord thinks so?" The police officer frowned, and Joan looked down dignifiedly: "The two guests arrived at eleven o'clock," she went on, "One of them, I recognized immediately, was the man who visited on his own the night before— —The man you say was named Grimshaw. The other mysterious guest was covered from the eyes down; Man, that's all I can tell you, Sergeant." Officer Quinn took a breath: "From what you've said, that mysterious guest may be extremely important from our point of view, Miss Bright. Can you explain in more detail? How does he dress? " Joan, dangling one leg, mused: "He wore a coat and a bowler hat, which he never took off. But I can't think of the shape and color of his coat. That's really all I can say about your— —” she said tremblingly, “about your scary-looking Grimshaw.” The Inspector shook his head; he was evidently displeased: "But let's not talk about Greenshaw now, Miss Bright! Let's do it now. There must be something else about this second man. Could it be that nothing happened that night?" Significant—anything to help us find out about that guy?" "Oh, my God," she laughed, kicking her slender foot out, "you defenders of law and order are stubborn. Well then—if you think Mrs. Simms' cat It's also meaningful..." Ellery looked interested. "Miss Bright, Mrs. Simms's cat? It's wonderful! Yes, it might be very interesting. Tell us all about it, Miss Bright." "Well, Mrs. Sims has a bold, mean cat she calls Bunny. Bunny's cold little nose keeps going where good kittens don't go. Er— Do you understand me, Mr. Quin?" She saw something wrong in the inspector's eyes, and sighed, confessing, "Really, inspector, I—I'm not saying something stupid. I'm It's just—well, it's all a mess." She stopped talking here, and there was something in her bright eyes—frightened, nervous, suspicious, "I think, I'm a little neurotic. , " she said wearily, "and when I was nervous, I became confused and smirked like a yellow-haired girl... That's exactly what happened." Her tone suddenly changed, "This stranger The man, who was bandaged up to his eyes, was the first to step into the hall when I opened the door. Greenshaw was at his side, a little back. Mrs. Simms's cat, who usually stayed upstairs The one who went to her room came to the hall when I didn't notice, and lay down on the intersection of the door. After I opened the door, this mysterious figure was just about to step in, one foot was raised, he Suddenly, I tried my best to stay still in the air so as not to step on the cat. It turned out that the cat was naughty lying on the carpet washing its face without making a sound. To be honest, even I didn’t wait until this person was performing acrobatics to avoid it. When I stepped on Rabbit—do you think 'Rabbit' is a typical Sims-like cat name?—I just noticed it. So, of course, I pushed him away, and Greenshaw stepped in. , he said: 'The Khalkis are waiting for us,' and I took them to the study. That's the episode with Mrs Sims' cat." "Not very informative," Ellery concluded. "Then this bandaged man—did he talk about anything?" "You don't know, he's the rudest man," said Joan, frowning slightly. "He's not only silent—he's supposed to see I'm not a maid, after all—but, when I put them When I brought it to the door of the study and was about to knock, he almost pushed me away from the door, but he opened the door himself! Without knocking first, he and Greenshaw entered the room in a hurry door, shut me out. I hated it so much that I wanted to chew a teacup." "Strange," murmured Ellery, "then you're sure he hasn't said a word?" "Absolutely, Mr. Quinn. As I said, I was very angry at the time and was going to go upstairs." At this point, Joan Bright showed her innocent character.She was about to say something else, but she touched the grievances in her heart, and her bright eyes showed resentment, and she cast a very angry look in the direction of young Aaron Cheney, who was lazily talking Leaning against the wall ten feet away, with his hands in his handbags, "I heard a sound, someone was fumbling for a key, and unlocking the door to the corridor that had been locked all along. I turned around on the stairs and saw, Why! I saw a man staggering into the hall, and it was Mr. Alan Cheney, very drunk, very drunk." "Joan!" Allen yelled angrily. "Drunk?" repeated the officer, bewildered. Joan nodded his head: "Yes, Sergeant, very drunk. You might as well say-drunk. Or call it booze. Or drunk. Drowsy. I believe, the state I saw Mr. Cheney that night. , about 300 words can be used to describe it. To put it simply, it is drunk!" Aaron grinned slightly: "There's no need to make a fuss, officer. Whenever I'm drunk, I can't tell east, west, north, south. I can't remember, but if Joan says it's like this—then, Well, that's it." "Well, exactly, sir," said Joan loudly, throwing back her head, "he was drunk and ugly-vomiting all over him." She stared at him. "I'm afraid he's in this In a drunken state, there may be a lot of nonsense. And Mr. Kharkis has ordered no noise, no noise, so I-well, I have no other choice, you are right Mr. Cheney smirked at me in that crazy way he was, and I ran and grabbed him by the arm and dragged him upstairs before he made a big fuss." Tefina Sloane, who was sitting very haughtily on the edge of her chair, turned her eyes from her son to Joan: "Honestly, Miss Bright," she said dryly, "I don't think you can forgive this kind of behavior." Shame……" "Please don't interrupt!" The police officer looked at Mrs. Sloane sharply, and she quickly shut up, "Go on, Miss Bright." Allen leaned against the wall, as if praying for a hole in the ground Let him drill, so as to get out of embarrassing situations. Joan rubbed the hem of her dress. "Maybe." Her tone was less agitated. Mr. Cheney carried him upstairs to his own room, and--and put him to bed." "Joan Bright!" exclaimed Mrs. Sloan, gasping with horror, "Aaron Cheney! Did you two--" "I didn't undress him, Mrs. Sloan," said Joan coldly. "Don't get me wrong about that, I just blamed him,"—in her tone implying that it was mother's duty. It's not the secretary's job to do it—" He did, in fact, immediately quiet down. To quiet down, that is, to become—become limp, and I'd already stuffed him into it. It's..." "You're digressing," snapped the inspector. "Those two guests, do you see anything else?" Her voice dropped now; she seemed to be studying the pattern of the rug beneath her feet: "Nothing. I'll go downstairs and get some raw eggs—a few raw eggs; I think the eggs might be for Chennai." Sober up, sir. To go to the kitchen, you have to go through this study. I found no light from under this door. I guess Mr. Khalkis must have gone to bed when the guests left while I was upstairs. " "When you passed the door, according to what you said—how long has it been since you brought in the two guests?" "That's hard to tell, Inspector. About half an hour, maybe longer." "After we were led in, have you never seen these two people again?" "No, officer." The silence in the room became more and more embarrassing.Joan sat there biting her red lips, not looking at anyone.Alan Cheney had a painful expression on his face.Mrs. Sloane's slender body was stiff and stiff, and her unattractive face was now tightened even more.Nacio Suyza lay down in a chair opposite, sighing in boredom.The tip of his black beard fell to the floor.Gilbert Sloane was taking a carbonated drink.Mrs. Freeland gazed like a banshee on her husband's ruddy old cheek.The whole atmosphere was unpleasant; Dr. Woz, affected by it, was hunched over a desk, as dark and gray as his beard.Even Woodruff looked downcast. Ellery's sinister tone of voice drew heads up: "Miss Bright, who was in this house last Friday night?" "I really can't tell, Mr. Quinn. The two maids have gone to bed, of course, Mrs. Simms has gone to bed long ago, and Wegsh has gone out—played out all night apparently. Except—Chennay I didn't see anyone else except Mr. "Well, we'll figure it out before long," grunted the officer, "Mr. Sloan!" His voice rose, startling Sloane, who was holding little colored vials. One point fell to the ground, "Where were you last Friday night?" "Oh, I'm in the general collection," Sloane replied hastily. "I work very late. I often work until midnight." "Is anyone with you?" "No, no! I'm so lonely!" "Well." The old man looked carefully at his snuffbox. "So, when did you come back to this house?" "Me? Not at all." "That's strange," said the Inspector, putting away his snuff-box. "Mr. George Kharkis seems to be a little elusive. And you, Mrs. Sloane—where were you last Friday night?" She licked her dry lips and blinked constantly: "Me? I'm sleeping upstairs. I don't know anything about my brother's guests—none at all." "What time did you go to bed?" "Bed about ten o'clock. I—I have a headache." "Headache. Hmm." The inspector turned to Mrs. Freeland again. "What about you? Where were you last Friday night? What were you doing?" Mrs. Freeland straightened her tall plump figure and smiled coquettishly. "I'm at the Opera House, Sergeant—at the Opera House." Ellery couldn't help blurting out, "Which opera house?" but he managed to get himself under control. On this singular woman, the perfume was strong--expensive for sure, but it was applied with impertinence. "Alone?" "With a friend." She smiled sweetly. "Later we went to Barbizon for supper. I arrived home at about one o'clock in the middle of the night." "Did you see a light in Khalkis' study when you came in?" "It seems that I didn't see it." "Did you see anyone downstairs?" "It was dark as a grave. I never saw a ghost, Sergeant." She giggled deep in her voice, but no one laughed with her.Mrs. Sloane sat up even more rigidly; it was evident that she thought the joke was too nondescript, too nondescript. The sergeant twirled his mustache thoughtfully; and when he looked up, he saw Dr. Woz's bright brown eyes fixed on him. "Ah, yes, Dr. Woz," he said cheerfully, "how about you?" Dr. Woz straightened his beard: "I was in the theater that night, officer." "Theatre. That's it. So you came back before midnight?" "No, Sergeant. I've made a stop or two after the play. I didn't get back until well after midnight, to be exact." "Did you spend the night alone?" The old man took another handful of snuff, and his shrewd little eyes looked at his fingers and sparkled.Mrs. Freeland sat there with a forced smile, her eyes wide open, a little too wide.The rest felt a little jaded.Inspector Quinn, who had questioned thousands of people in his line of work by now, had developed a special police instinct--a liar is instantly recognizable.From Dr. Woz's fluent answers and from Mrs. Freeland's pretended calm posture, he saw that there was something else to be said... "I don't believe you're telling the truth, Doctor," he said deliberately. "Of course, I understand your scruples. . . . You were with Mrs. Freeland last Friday night, weren't you?" The woman held her breath, and Dr. Woz raised his bushy eyebrows.Jen Freeland was in a daze, peeking at the doctor and then at his wife. Sadness and anxiety were concentrated on his pudgy little face. Dr. Woz laughed suddenly, "That's an endlessly brilliant guess, officer. You guessed it right." He bowed slightly to Mrs. Freeland, "Mrs. Freeland, do you allow me to tell? "She raised her head like a frightened horse. "You see, Sergeant, I don't think there's any embarrassment in telling the truth about this lady's actions. To tell the truth, I did accompany Mrs. Freeland to the Met and then to Barbizon— —” "Shut up! I can't think of—" Freeland interrupted, protesting and slightly exasperated. "Dear Mr. Freeland. That night was the most innocent night imaginable, and it was also a very pleasant night. I can say that for sure." Dr. Woz looked carefully at the uneasiness of the old Dutch man. "Ms. Freeland is very lonely because of your long absence, sir, and I have no one in New York—of course we met by chance, you know." "Well, I don't like it," said Freeland childishly, "I don't like it at all, Lucy." He staggered up to his wife, wagging his index finger in her face, and pursed his lips.As if about to faint, she grabbed the arm of the chair.The officer ordered Freeland emphatically to be quiet, and Mrs. Freeland leaned back, eyes closed, ashamed. Dr. Woz shook his broad shoulders slightly.Gilbert Sloan, who was facing him, let out a long breath, and Mrs. Sloane's dull face had a moment of anger.The police officer's bright eyes shot at each of them.His eyes landed on the stumbling Demetrio Khalkis... Demmy, except for his ignorant and dazed tone, was ugly and haggard, and he came out of the same mold as his cousin George Khalkis.His eyes were wide-rolled and perpetually staring; his thick lower lip was drooping, his forehead was almost flattened, and his head was disproportionately large.He has been walking around silently, not talking to anyone, but squinting his eyes to see the faces of everyone in the room, his two big fists are constantly clenched, released, and closed with strange regularity. Hold tight and let go. "Oh—you, Mr. Khalkis!" cried the sergeant.Demi continued to stagger around the study. "Is he deaf?" the old man asked anxiously, but he didn't ask anyone in particular. Joan Bright said, "He's not deaf, Sergeant. He just doesn't understand English. He's Greek, you know." "He's Khalkis' cousin, isn't he?" "That's right," Alan Cheney said unexpectedly, "but he's timid." He touched his beautiful brain consciously, "In terms of mental state, he's like an idiot." "It's very interesting," said Ellery Queen eloquently, "that the word 'idiot' is of Greek origin; and etymologically - 'idiot' in Greek - Means: an ignorant plebeian in Greek society. Not at all an imbecile." "And yet he's the kind of idiot we mean in modern English," said Aaron lazily. "My uncle brought him here from Athens ten years ago—he was the last of the family to remain. That's over there. Most of the Khalkis family have been naturalized in America for six generations. Demi never knew English—my mother said he could barely read Greek." "Well, I've got to talk to him," said the inspector, with a sort of resignation. "Mrs. Sloan, that's your cousin too, isn't he?" "Yes, Sergeant, poor dear George..." Her lips quivered as if she were about to cry. "Well, well," said the officer hastily, "do you understand the cut? I mean, do you speak Greek, or whatever it's called, the way he babbles? " "It's okay for me to talk to him." "Then ask him what he did last Friday night." Mrs. Sloane sighed, stood up, straightened her dress, then grabbed the tall, skinny idiot by the arm and shook him hard.He whirled slowly, inexplicably; he looked eagerly into her face; then smiled again, and took her hand.She snapped, "Demetrius!" and he laughed again, and she began to speak to him in a foreign language, the accent of which was short guttural sounds.He laughed aloud at that, and squeezed her hand tighter; his reaction was childlike—joyed at the accent.He answered her in the same foreign accent, speaking with a slight lisp, but his voice was deep and piercing. Mrs. Sloane turned to the Inspector. "He said George sent him to bed that night about ten o'clock." "Is his bedroom just behind Khalkis's?" "Ask him if he heard any noises in the study after he went to bed?" There was another strange conversation: "No, he said he didn't hear anything. He fell asleep right away and slept soundly all night. Officer, he sleeps like a child." "So. Didn't he see anyone in the study?" "How can he see, Inspector, if he's asleep?" At this moment, Demi was peeking at the cousins ​​and at the police officer in a mood that was both happy and bewildered.The old man nodded and said, "Thank you, Mrs. Sloane. That will do." The police officer went to the desk, grabbed the handset, and dialed: "Hi! This is Quinn... Listen, Frey, what's the name of that Greek interpreter who keeps hanging around the Criminal Court building?... What Qugara? Qu-ja-ra? . . . Good. Find him at once and send him to Eleven East Fifty-fourth Street. Tell him to come to me." He slammed the receiver back on the desk; "You all, please wait here for me," he said, beckoning Ellery and Pepper over, and nodding to Inspector Willie, Then step over to the door.Like a curious child, Demi opened his eyes wide, looking at the figures of these three people. When they climbed the carpeted stairs, Pepper signaled for a right turn.He pointed to the door not far from the stairs, and the police officer knocked on the door.There was a woman's gurgling voice full of crying: "Who is outside?" "Are you Mrs. Sims? I'm Sergeant Quinn. May I come in a moment?" "Who? Who? Oh, yes! Wait a minute, sir, wait a minute!" They heard the creaking of the bed, the rustling accompanied by a strong female exhalation, and then a faint moan. , "Come in, sir. Come in." The police officer sighed and opened the door. The three of them felt as if they had seen a ghost as soon as they entered the room.An old scarf was draped over Mrs. Simms' puffed shoulders.The hair is disheveled, a pile of gray and white - the head is covered with strands of hard braids, a little bit like the top of the "Statue of Liberty".His face was swollen and red, and there were stains of tears on it.She was turning in the old-fashioned rocking chair; her slack breasts heaved and quivered.A pair of big swollen feet were stuffed into old-fashioned carpet slippers. An antique Persian cat lies at the foot - obviously the "rabbit" who is not afraid of getting into trouble. The three entered solemnly, and Mrs. Simms watched them with wide, startled bull's eyes, which Ellery gasped at. "Mrs. Sims, are you feeling better now?" asked the inspector kindly. "Oh, it's dreadful, sir, it's dreadful." Mrs. Simms turned her chair more rapidly. "Who is that ghastly zombie in the drawing room, sir? He's—so hideous and terrifying that it makes my hair stand on end!" "Oh, so you've never met that man before?" "Me?" she screamed. "For God's sake! Me? God, never seen that!" "All right, all right," said the Inspector hastily, "well, Mrs. Simms, do you remember last Friday night?" She covered her nose with a wet handkerchief, her eyes more sober: "Last Friday night? The night before—the night before Mr. Khalkis died? Can you remember, sir." "That's very good, Mrs. Sims, very good. I understand that you go to bed very early--don't you?" "Indeed, sir. Mr. Khalkis himself ordered me to do so." "Did he tell you anything else?" "Nothing, nothing of any importance, sir, probably nothing of use to you." Mrs. Simms blew her nose. "He just called me into the study, and—" "Did he call you in?" "Well, I mean he rang for me. There's a bell on his desk that goes to the kitchen downstairs." "When is it?" "Time? Let me think about it." She pursed her lips in thought, "About a quarter to eleven." "Of course at night!" “那还用说！当然是。我进了书房，他就吩咐我立刻给他拿来一滤壶的水，三只茶杯和茶托，几只茶球、奶油、柠檬和糖。马上拿来，他吩咐说。” “你进书房的时候，他是单独一个人吗？” “唔，是呀，先生。孤零零的一个人，这可怜虫坐在书桌旁，坐得是那样的规矩，那样的笔挺……想到——只要一想到——” “现在，别想啦，西姆丝太太，”警官说，“后来又怎样了呢？” 她轻轻揩拭自己的眼睛：“我立刻拿来了茶具，放在他书桌旁边的小架子上。他问我，是否已经把他所要的每一件东西全都取来了——” “咦，这真怪。”埃勒里喃喃自语。 “一点儿也不奇怪，先生。你知道吧，他是双目失明的人。然后他提高了嗓音说——这倒是稍微有点神经质的，先生，如果你这样问，我就会这样认为，可是你却没有这样问——他对我说，'西姆丝太太，我要你马上去睡觉。你听明白了没有？'于是我说，'明白了，卡吉士先生，'接着我就直奔自己的房间，上了床。这就是全部情况了，先生。” “他一点也没有告诉你当晚有客人要来吗？” “先生，告诉我？没，没告诉，先生。”西姆丝太太又擤擤鼻子，随后又用手帕猛烈地擦拭鼻子，“我虽然根据三套杯子和其它东西，确实想到他也许是要接待客人之类。但处于我的地位，是不便问他的，先生。” “当然是不便问的。那么你在那天晚上就没有看见任何客人喽？” “没见，先生。我早讲过，我直奔自己的房间，上了床。我很疲倦，先生，发了一整天的风湿。我的风湿病——” 兔仔站了起来，打了个呵欠，开始洗起脸来。 “是呀，是呀。我们很了解。现在就讲到这儿吧，西姆丝太太，非常感谢你啦，”警官这样说着，大家赶紧走出了房间。下楼的时候，埃勒里一直若有所思；佩珀好奇地望着他说，“你认为……” “亲爱的的佩珀，”埃勒里说，“我生来如此。我老是在思索。这正如拜伦在《哈罗德公子》长诗中——你还记得那文笔优美的第一篇章吗？——恰到好处的描写：'有了“思维”这个恶魔，就使人生备受折磨。'” “对呀，”佩珀含糊其辞地说，“言之有理。”