Chapter 30 fifth scene

A frosty moon hangs high, and the whole of Xi'an Gewu is still in a deep sleep. A large police car drives through this quiet pastoral community, and bends on a path with two rows of dead old trees, guarded by two mounted policemen on motorcycles. , Behind, is a slightly smaller police car full of criminal police. The mighty group headed straight for the DeWitts' house, stopping before entering the DeWitts' lawn path.A group of people got out of the big police car, including Jane DeWitt, Lord, Ahan, Impoli, Brooke, and Jerry Lane, but no one spoke. The motorcycle policeman turned off the engine, turned the car around on the spot, straddled the seat and smoked lazily.Several criminal policemen rushed down from the small police car, and quickly surrounded Zhen and other people.

"Everyone is in the house," one of the detectives announced, sounding like an arrow. "Prosecutor Cole has ordered that no one act alone." Aham was the first to protest, saying that his own family lived nearby, and he saw no reason why he should stay with the DeWitts for a night watch.A group of remnants of defeated generals began to enter the gate of the house dejectedly, and Wren stayed where he was.The bureaucratic detective just shook his head, another detective walked up to Ahan with malicious intentions, Ahan shrugged, Xiucai had to follow the crowd like a soldier; Ren smiled warmly , followed Ahan along the corridor in the dark night, and the detectives followed behind. To be honest, their footsteps were also lazy.

It was the disheveled butler Jorkens who came to open the door, staring at the group of people flocking to the door in the middle of the night, a little at a loss, but no one answered his doubts.Driven mercilessly by the criminal police, the group silently walked into the spacious colonial-style living room, and sat down on chairs with tired and desperate expressions.Jorkens, with one hand still buttoned up, turned on the light with the other hand. Ren sighed in relief, and then sat down, still holding his strange cane tightly, and staring at the people present with piercing eyes. A restless Jorkens lingers over Jane.The young injured girl was sitting on a couch, leaning on the arm of her boyfriend Rhodes. The old butler said in a low voice, "Miss DeWitt, I... can I ask..."

Jane whispered back, "What?" Since her voice was so unusual, the old butler took a step back timidly, but still mustered up the courage to ask: "What happened? These people... I know I shouldn't ask, but what about Mr. DeWitt?" Rhodes said roughly, "Jorkens, step aside." But the girl replied clearly: "He is dead, Jorkens, dead." Jorkens' old face turned gray, and he stopped in a bending motion as if he had just welcomed a guest.Then, his bewildered eyes scanned, as if to confirm whether the bolt from the blue was real, but all he saw were averted faces and glazed eyes, as if everyone's emotions had been overwhelmed by the cold-blooded murder of the night. Events sucked up.

For a long time, Jorkens turned around and retreated without saying a word. A detective jumped out and blocked his way: "Where's Mrs. DeWitt?" Jorkens looked at him with terribly empty eyes. "Mrs. DeWitt? Mrs. DeWitt?" "Yeah, hey, tell me—where's she?" Jorkens, still walking dead, replied stiffly: "I think sleeping upstairs, sir." "Stay upstairs all night?" "No, sir, no, sir, not that." "Then where is she going?" "Sir, I don't know." "When did you come back?" "When she came back, I was already asleep and she forgot to bring the key, so she rang the doorbell and woke me up to open the door."

"Oh, when was that?" "Sir, I think it was an hour and a half ago." "Do you really know the time?" "I don't know, sir." "Wait a minute," said the detective, turning to Jane DeWitt. While the detective and Jorkens were talking, the young girl sat up and listened intently, and the detective was taken aback by the strange look on her face. Puzzled, he tried to speak with enthusiasm, but he did it clumsily, "I think—Miss, is it not up to you to tell Mrs. DeWitt the sad news of Mr. DeWitt? Sad news, and, moreover, Attorney Cole has ordered us to notify Mrs. DeWitt immediately."

"You want me to tell her?" Jane tilted her head back and laughed wildly with her, "Should I tell her?" Rhodes shook gently and whispered in her ear; the blazing flames in Jane's eyes When it died down, she shuddered, trembling, and almost muttering, "Jorkens, you go and ask Mrs. DeWitt downstairs." Hearing this, the criminal policeman hurriedly said, "It's okay, it's okay, I'll call her, uh, you—just take me to the room." Jorkens left the living room like a zombie, followed by the detective.No one spoke at the scene, Ahan got up and paced around, Impoli's coat still hadn't been taken off, and it seemed to be wrapped even tighter.

"I wonder," said Wren thoughtfully, "whether it would be better to light the fire?" Ahan was still standing upright like a stick, looking around the whole room, and suddenly, he shivered, as if he only felt the bitter morning chill at this moment.There was a hopeless look in his eyes, he hesitated for a moment, walked to the fireplace, knelt down, and stretched out his trembling hands to try to light the fire.After a while, there was a sound of peeling the small log, and sparks shone on the wall.It wasn't until he was completely sure that the fire was blazing that Ahan stood up, patted the dust on his knees, and began to walk his square steps again.Impoli took off his coat, and Brooke, the lawyer, who was buried in a large chair in the far corner, also moved the chair over to the fire.

Suddenly, everyone raised their heads at the same time, and there was a slight sound coming in through the aisle and the warm air. Everyone raised their heads in a stiff and unnatural way—staring curiously, waiting for what was about to happen, like a group of people statue.In a moment Mrs. DeWitt slid silently across the living room, followed by the detective and Jorkens, still dazed as a corpse. Mrs. DeWitt's slithering gait was as unusual as the rest of the crowd's gazing, unreal as if walking in sleep.But no matter what, her appearance instantly lifted the devil's curse on this terrifying night, and everyone relaxed.Impoli stood up and bowed politely; Ahan scratched his head and grunted a few times as a greeting; Rhodes tightened his hands around Jane's shoulders; Brook walked towards the fire; only Ryan remained in his original posture , he was deaf and unable to hear, but his head was held up vigilantly, his piercing eyes not letting go of any slightest movement in the room that signaled that something was happening.

Veran DeWitt added an exotic house robe over her pajamas, her shiny black hair cascading down her shoulders, looking more beautiful than in daylight.She shrank back strangely, followed, and quickly walked across the room, bending over the girl's limp body. "Jane, Jane," she said hoarsely, "oh, well--well..." Without looking at her stepmother, or even raising her head, Jane said grimly, "Go away." Foan bounced back as if she had been slapped by Jane. She turned her head and was about to leave without saying a word. The criminal police standing behind her and watching everything stopped her, "Mrs. DeWitt, we I have a few questions for you."

She stopped, looking helpless.The attentive Yin Boli hurriedly offered a chair, and Foan sat down obediently, his eyes fixed on the fire. The criminal policeman cleared his throat deliberately, breaking the heavy and unbearable silence: "Tonight, when will you be home?" She held her breath: "What? What are you doing..." "answer the questions." "Er—a few minutes past two." "That is, almost two hours ago?" "yes." "where have you been?" "Didn't go there, went for a drive." "Go for a drive," the detective's voice rose suspiciously, "is anyone with you?" "Myself." "What time did you leave the house?" "A long time after dinner, around 7:30, I drove out and drove..." Her ending sound dragged on, and the policeman waited patiently. She licked her chapped lips and said, "I was in the city. I went around the district, and then I found myself in front of a church—St John's." "At Amsterdam Avenue and 110th Street?" "Yeah, I pulled up and went into the church and sat there for a long time thinking about something..." "Mrs. DeWitt, what are you talking about?" the detective asked roughly. "You mean, you drive uptown New York, and then you just sit in church for a few hours? When are you going to leave there?" "Oh, what's wrong with that?" she screamed. "What's wrong? Do you think I killed him? Yes—I know you think I did, all of you, sitting like this, See me this way, judge me this way..." Mrs. DeWitt wept desperately, her thick shoulders heaving. "When did you leave?" She continued to sob for a while, then wiped away her tears and said hoarsely, "It was about 10:30 or 11, I didn't pay attention to the exact time." "And then? Where did you go?" "I drive, just drive, drive all the time." "Then how did you come back to New Jersey?" "Take the Forty-second Street Ferry." The detective whistled and glared at her: "Isn't it another horrible traffic jam passing through the entire downtown area of ​​New York? Why is this happening? Why don't you take the ferry at 125th Street?" Fo'an didn't respond. "Hurry up," the detective urged mercilessly, "You have to explain clearly." "Explain clearly?" Her eyes darkened, "I have nothing to explain clearly, I don't know how to drive to the downtown, I just thought, drove, unconsciously..." "Oh, yeah, I'm thinking about it," the policeman rushed up, "What are you thinking about? Tell me." She stood up and wrapped her robe tightly: "What I think is that you are too aggressive. What do I like to think about? It's none of your business? Please get out of the way, I'm going back to my room." The criminal police stepped forward to block her, and she stopped, her face pale with anger. "No, you don't answer—" the criminal policeman opened his mouth, and Ryan interrupted him gently at this time: "Seriously, I think Mrs. DeWitt is right, she is too tired and excited now, further questions —if it is necessary for her to answer, I think it might be better to wait until tomorrow morning." The detective stared at Ren for a while, coughed mockingly, and made way for him. "Okay, sir." But his voice was still not low, and he said to Fo'an reluctantly, "Ma'am, I'm sorry." Fo'an left, and everyone in the living room fell into dead silence again. At a quarter past four in the morning, Ryan embarked on a strange thing. He was alone in DeWitt's private study.The Scottish-style shawl coat was draped over the chair, and Ryan searched the entire room confidently, not only looking around with his eyes, but also flipping his hands around.A quaint carved walnut desk was placed in the center of the study. Ryan opened the drawers one by one, without letting go of any paper, and carefully checked every record and securities, but obviously found nothing.Then, he gave up the desk and faced the safe embedded in the wall for the third time. He didn't give up trying to turn the knob again, but the safe was obviously locked and wouldn't move.Ren had no choice but to turn around slowly to face the bookshelves full of books. He paid special attention to the gap between the books and the bookshelves, and tried his luck to take out the books and rummaged through them. After finally checking every volume in the collection, he stood and thought for a while, his shining eyes fell on the safe on the wall again. He walked to the door of the study, opened it and poked his head out. A criminal policeman on duty was pacing in the hall, and immediately saw him cleverly. "Is the butler still downstairs?" "I'll go and have a look." The policeman went downstairs, and after a while, he brought up Jorkens who was staggering. "What's the matter, sir?" Ren leaned against the doorpost of the study: "Old friend Jorkens, do you know the number of the safe in the study?" Jorkens' eyes widened. "I, no, sir, I don't know." "Does Mrs. DeWitt know? Or Miss DeWitt?" "No, sir, I don't think they know." "That's weird," Ryan smiled, and the detective lazily returned to the hall, "How could this be? Jorkens." "Uh, sir, Mr. DeWitt, what about...?" the old housekeeper seemed rather embarrassed, "Sir, yes, it's very strange, but Mr. DeWitt has not let anyone else in the family touch this safe all these years. There's also a safe in the upper bedroom where Mrs. and Miss's jewels are kept, but this one in the study... only Mr. and his solicitor, Mr. Brooke, know the number, I think." "Brook?" Ryan thought about it, "Can you please invite him up?" Jorkens was ordered to leave, and when he came back upstairs, Lyman Brooke followed him, his graying blond hair in a mess and his eyes red as if he hadn't woken up. "Mr. Ryan, are you looking for me?" "Yes, I know only you and DeWitt know the number of the study safe, Mr. Brooke,"—Brooke's bleary sleep alerted—"can you tell me?" The lawyer rubbed his chin and pondered: "This is really an unusual request, Mr. Wren, from a moral point of view, I don't know whether I should give you this number, but from a legal point of view... I really don't know What to do, you know, DeWitt told me this safe number a long time ago, and he also said that he would keep a written memo Legal procedures are required to open this safe..." "Mr. Brook, I'm even more curious when you say that," Ryan said softly, "under such circumstances, I'm even more eager to open the safe immediately. Of course, you also understand that I have the right to make this request. If the district attorney makes the same request, you will tell him?" Wren was still smiling, but his eyes were fixed on the lawyer's tense jaw. "If you want to see the will," Brooke said feebly, "it's really an official business..." "No, Mr. Brooke, I am not thinking of the will. By the way, do you know what is hidden in the safe? There must be some very important clues in it that will allow us to solve all the mysteries." "Oh, no, I have no idea, of course I've always wondered what important things were in there, but I never asked DeWitt." "I think, Mr. Brooke," Lane said solemnly, with a change of tone, "you'd better give me the number." Brook was still hesitant, avoiding Ryan's staring eyes... After a long time, he shrugged and softly spit out a long string of numbers from his mouth. Ryan looked at his lips with great concentration, nodded, and didn't say a word He hurried back to the study and closed the door in front of Brooke. The old actor walked quickly across the study to the safe. He dialed the number knob for a while. Finally, the small and heavy iron door opened. Ren stopped for a moment expectantly. Without disturbing the original arrangement, he He began to look carefully at the documents in the safe... Fifteen minutes later, Ren closed the safe again, turned the dial switch, and went to the desk with a small envelope in his hand. Ryan sat down in the chair in front of the desk, and carefully looked at the envelope. The handwriting was in ordinary handwriting, and it was addressed to John DeWitt. The postmark was the New York City Central Post Office, and then it was handed over to DeWitt by the general post office. , the date above is marked on June 3 this year.Ryan turned the back, but did not leave the sender's address. Ryan's fingers carefully reached into the open end of the envelope and pulled out a thin, ordinary note.Like the writing on the envelope, it was also handwritten, the ink was recognizably blue, and the note was dated: June 2.The letter omits the usual greeting and reads only John DeWitt's nickname: Jack. The content is also very brief. Jack! This is my last letter to you. Every dog ​​has his big day, and mine is coming up, so prepare yourself for the consequences, you might just be the first. Likewise, there is no customary blessing at the end of the letter, only the name of the sender: Martin Stoop.