Chapter 3 Murders in the Rue Morgue

What song is the siren singing?What was the name of Achilles who hid among the women?Although the question is not easy to answer, it is not without answer. The analytic mind, which is often spoken of in discussion, is often not a feature of itself that stands up to analysis.We can only appreciate it by its effects.We know that for a person with a highly analytical mind, that mind, among other things, provides a wonderful enjoyment in itself.Just as the able-bodied man takes pride in his physical prowess, and enjoys the exercise of his muscles; likewise, the analyst takes pleasure in solving difficult moral problems, even the most trivial of which give him pleasure as long as they allow him to use his talents. .He likes puzzles, funny riddles, and hieroglyphs. Every time he solves a problem, he shows a supernatural wisdom in the eyes of ordinary people.The method by which he has achieved it has, in fact, an instinctive quality to its soul and quintessence.His problem-solving talents probably benefited greatly from the study of mathematics, especially analytical mathematics - the highest branch of mathematics.The reason why analytical mathematics is called analytical mathematics is because it uses the method of inverse reasoning. This name seems to be more appropriate, but it may not be fair.However, computation itself is not analysis.For example, chess players only analyze and do not calculate.What follows is that chess games are also greatly misunderstood for the exercise of mental quality.I'm not writing a dissertation right now, I'm just chatting casually, laying the groundwork for a very unique story to be told.Therefore, I would like to take the opportunity to affirm one point: the power of the thinking mind is definitely more applicable and appropriate to be used in simple backgammon than in fancy chess.The weight of each chess piece is different and changeable, and there are many ways to move.It is a not uncommon mistake to mistake complexity for depth, so that attention is sucked away here by the force of the move.The slightest slack in attention can lead to negligence, frustration, and even failure.The variety and complexity of moves increases the chance of a miss.In this way, the person who pays attention has a nine-tenth chance of winning than the person with a sharp mind.But backgammon is on the contrary, because the method of playing is single, there are few changes, relatively less attention is used, and the possibility of making mistakes is greatly reduced. The advantage that both sides may obtain is obtained by the alert side.Specifically, let us assume that there are only four kings left in a game of backgammon, at which point there is no chance of a wrong move.It is very clear that in a situation where the two sides are evenly matched, victory can only be achieved by ingenious moves, and ingenious moves are the result of careful planning.Without a common strategy, the analyst is forced to put himself in his opponent's shoes, and often sees at a glance the unique move—sometimes bordering on absurdly simple—that induces an opponent to make a mistake or scurry into a mistake.

Whist has always been famous for developing the so-called intellectual competition ability.Men of the highest intelligence are said to regard chess as a frivolity, and take an interest in whist—an apparently inexplicable interest.There is no doubt that nothing can match whist in its demanding analytical nature.The best chess player in Christendom may be a little better than the best chess player, but the ability to play whist means success in all important careers of intellectual confrontation.What I mean by talent is the ability to look at the big picture and make perfect use of the reasonable advantage factors in the game.Such factors not only have many aspects and forms, but they are often hidden in the secret places of thought, which cannot be detected by mediocre minds.Careful observation is clear memory.Up to this stage, players who are good at concentrating can be sure to win at the whist table.Hoyle's rules, based on the procedure of the game, are well understood and generally understood.In this way, a good memory, combined with doing things according to the book, is generally considered to be all the secrets of becoming a master.However, the part that shows the ability of the analyst is out of the law.The analyst makes a lot of observation and reasoning quietly, and his poker players presumably do the same.But the extent of the information the analyst obtains from reasoning does not lie in the correctness of it but in the quality of its observations.The first thing that must be known is what needs to be observed.Our players don't put their hands in the sand, nor refuse to reason about something other than the game, because the goal is the game.He observed his partner's expression and compared it with that of his two opponents.He observes the way the other three parties manage cards, and often calculates the trump cards and winning cards one by one from the eyes of the card holder.He noticed every change in the faces of the others as the game progressed, deriving rich ideas from expressions of confidence, surprise, victory, or annoyance.Judging from the attitude of taking the winning card can the person taking the card get another one in that set.He could tell the opponent's intentions by the way he feinted or threw his cards.An offhand casual remark, an occasional drop, turn of a card and the ensuing anxious or nonchalant coverup, the counting of winning cards, the order in which cards are sorted, expressions of confusion, hesitation, irritability or pain, all Conveying the truth to his apparently instinctive perception.When the cards were played on the second and third rounds, he already knew each house's cards like the back of his hand, and the purpose of the cards he played afterwards was absolutely clear, as if the cards of the other three parties were all laid out on the table.

Analytical ability should not be confused with simple intelligence, for although analysts must be intelligent, intelligent people are often surprisingly inanalytical.Intelligence is often manifested in the ability to connect and combine, and phrenologists often designate a special organ for it, assuming it is a primitive ability.I think they are wrong.It is a faculty often found in some otherwise intellectually close to idiots, and it has attracted the general attention of moral writers.The gap between intelligence and analytical power is actually much greater than the gap between fantasy and imagination, but the nature is very similar.In fact, we can find that intelligent people often have a lot of fantasies, and really imaginative people are never bad at analysis.

The story told below may appear to the reader as a footnote to the above topic. In the spring and early summer of 18XX, I stayed in Paris for a while, and met a gentleman named C. Auguste Dupont.The young gentleman came of a noble family--a splendid family, indeed, but, by various misfortunes, he was so impoverished that he lowered his expectations, retired from society, and Then embrace the hope of revitalizing the family business.Thanks to the care of his creditors, he still retained a small remnant of his family property, and he relied on the income of that property and extreme frugality to meet his daily needs, and he no longer bothered about chasing superfluous things.In fact, books were his only luxury, and in Paris they were not hard to come by.

We met for the first time in a remote library on rue Montmartre, and we both happened to be looking for the same extremely rare and astonishing book.This encounter strengthened our relationship, and we saw each other again and again.I became fascinated by his little family history, which he related to me with that earnestness with which the French often indulge when they speak of themselves.I was also amazed at how widely he read.But what I feel the most is his wild, vivid and fresh imagination, which ignites my soul.I was then in Paris seeking what I was seeking, and I found it desirable to associate with such a man.I told him this feeling frankly.In the end it was arranged that I should stay with him during my stay in Paris.My financial situation is not as tight as his, allowing me to rent a building.We furnished our room in a style that would suit both of our eccentric temperaments.It was an old and fine building, long abandoned and crumbling by some superstition (which we have not pursued) in a remote and desolate place on the outskirts of Germany.

People from the outside, who knew about our daily life there, would think of us as lunatics— harmless lunatics though they might be.We were completely secluded from the world, seeing no one, in fact I kept my retreat carefully secret from all my former acquaintances, and Dupont had not been known or known anyone in Paris for many years.We live our lives alone. My friend has a strange whim (what else can I call it?): to love the night for the night's sake.And I fell silently into this whim, and gave myself up to those fantasies as thoroughly as any other.The dark god cannot be with us forever, but we can fake her existence.As soon as the morning dawned, we pulled down the heavy shutters in the ancient building, lit two candles, and let them emit a strong fragrance and a very gloomy and very faint light.With the help of such measures, our souls are busy in dreaming—reading, writing, talking, until the bells ring to inform us of the true darkness.Then we would rush into the streets arm in arm, continue our daytime conversations, or take a sweaty tour until late at night, seeking the infinite mental stimulation that quiet observation can provide in the light and shadow of the populous city.

At such moments I could not help noticing Dupont's unique analytical ability and sincerely admired him, although I had long been prepared for his rich imagination.He also seems to take great pleasure in the exercise, if not the display, of his imagination, and does not hesitate to admit to taking pleasure.With a low chuckle, he boasted to me that, in his opinion, most people's hearts are open.He would always justify his opinion of my thoughts with astonishingly adept direct knowledge.At such a moment, his attitude is cold and abstract, his eyes are misty, and his usual thick tenor voice has turned into a high-pitched voice. If his narration is not careful, thoughtful and clear, it may give people the impression of lightness.Looking at him in that mood, I often think about the ancient philosophy of double souls. I imagined a double Dupont, and I took pleasure in it: one is the Dupont who creates, and the other is the Dupont who solves problems.

Don't think that what I have just said is intended to recount some miracle, or write any romance, for what I have described of the Frenchman is only the result of a stimulated or morbid state of my mind.But one example best conveys the nature of his words at that time. We were walking down a long dirty street near the palace one evening, both of us apparently lost in thought, and hadn't spoken for at least fifteen minutes.DuPont burst out with the following words: "He's too small for a vaudeville theater, really." "No one will doubt that." I replied casually.Because I was so absorbed in my own thinking, I didn't notice at first the unique way the speaker inserted into my thinking, but then I woke up and was very surprised.

"Dupont," I said gravely, "I don't understand that. I can tell you without hesitation that I was astonished and could hardly believe my feelings. How do you know I was thinking— "Here I stopped, trying to make sure he really knew who I was thinking of. "You're thinking of Chan Tiyi," he said. "Why don't you speak? You're telling yourself that his small stature is not suitable for tragedies." This is exactly what I was thinking.Chantilly, a former shoemaker in the Rue Saint-Denis, was obsessed with the stage and tried his best to play Xerxes in Crebillon's tragedy "Xerxes", but his performance was met with embarrassing comments. .

"For heaven's sake," I exclaimed, "tell me your method—if you have one. How did you probe my soul in this matter?" Actually I was surprised Even more than I care to express. "It was the fruit seller who led you to that conclusion," replied my friend, "that the shoemaker was too small for Xerxes and the like." "Fruit seller! You astonish me. I don't know any fruit sellers." "That's the man who bumped into you as we came into the street—about fifteen minutes ago." So I remembered.In fact a fruit vendor with a large basket of apples on his head knocked me down almost by accident as we came to a stop on Avenue C, turning into Main Street.I don't understand what this has to do with Shang Ti Yi Neng.

There was nothing charlatan about DuPont. "I'd like to explain," he said, "to make you understand. Let's first trace your thought process. From the last time I talked to you until I met the fruit vendor, the general link is this: Shang Tiyi — Orion — Dr. Nicole — Epicureans — solid amputation — stones in the street — fruit sellers." There are few people who have not at some point in their lives traced the process of forming a certain conclusion in their minds and took pleasure in it, and this tracing is often very interesting.And the distance between the starting point and the end point is so large that it is even irrelevant, which always surprises people who do it for the first time.How surprised I was, then, when I heard what the Frenchman said, and had to admit that he was right!He went on: "If I remember correctly, we were talking about horses as we left C Street, our last conversation. As we turned into the street, a fruit seller with a large basket on his head brushed past us, You squeeze into a pile of street flags that are piled up next to the road that is being repaired. You step on a loose flagstone, slip, sprain your ankle slightly, and look annoyed or sullen , muttered a few words, looked back at the pile of stone slabs, walked forward again without making a sound. I don't pay much attention to your movements, but recently, observation has become a need for me. "You continue to look at the ground--with an annoyed look at the holes and ditches in it (so I know you're thinking of the pile of slabs), and we come to the alley called Lamartine. That alley has been taken Overlapping and riveting laid the ground—it was an experiment. Your face brightened when you got there, and I saw your lips move, knowing that you were undoubtedly saying a word: solid cutting, a method for High-tech terminology for this kind of paving. I know you can't say solid cut to yourself without thinking of atoms, and thus Epicurus's theory. And when we were discussing this not long ago, I once again Told you how uniquely the vague conjectures of the noble Greek scholar were confirmed in the latest nebular cosmogenesis, and how little attention was paid to that confirmation. I think you cannot help but look up at the constellation of Orion. Huge nebula - I really expected you to do that, and you did look up. Now I'm sure I've followed your train of thought. But the article about Shang Ti that appeared in The Muse yesterday In Yi's scathing commentary, the author quotes a Latin poem to analyze the shoemaker who changed his name after putting on the tragic shoes: The original voice of the ancient script has disappeared. "I told you that the line refers to Orion, from which the word was changed. I realize that you cannot forget some of the irony associated with that interpretation, so it is clear that you Certainly not to separate Orion from Chantilly. I can tell by the sign of the smile that flits across your lips that you really do. You think of the sacrifices made by the poor shoemaker. Till then you have bowed Waist, but now I see you straighten your body, so I'm sure you think of Shang Tiyi's short figure. At this moment, I interrupted your train of thought and said that in fact he, that Shang Tiyi, was too short , it would be more appropriate to go to a vaudeville troupe." Shortly thereafter we both glanced at an evening edition of the Tribune, and the following passages caught our attention: "Uncanny murder--about three o'clock in the morning this morning, the inhabitants of the Saint-Rocher were awakened by a series of shrill and terrifying cries. The cries apparently came from the fourth floor of a house in the Rue Morgue. It was Madame Lespinnaier The place where she lives alone with her daughter, Mademoiselle Camille-Lespinnayer. After a few moments of delay in the failure of the usual attempts to enter, the door was barked open with steel rods, and eight to ten neighbors followed the two policemen. Entered the building. The shouting had stopped by then, but one or two angry arguments could be heard as people rushed up the first escalator, which seemed to come from the upper floors of the building. The sound stopped when everyone reached the second staircase, Everything was calm. People hurriedly dispersed to search from room to room. When they came to a large room at the back of the fourth floor, they found that the key was inserted into the lock hole from the inside of the door, so they had to knock open the door. The scene in the door The impression given to everyone present was horror, but also shock. "The apartment is in a mess, broken furniture strewn about, except for a bed frame, which has been torn from the bed frame and thrown in the middle of the floor. There is a bloody razor on the chair. On the fireplace Two or three or three locks of gray hair were thrown, also dripping with blood, and seemed to have been pulled off by the roots. On the ground were four Napoleonic guineas, a pair of topaz earrings, three large silver spoons, and three smaller handfuls of Algiers silver. and two pockets containing almost four thousand francs in gold. A corner chest of drawers was opened, apparently robbed, and was still open, though there were still many things in it. From under the bed (not under the bed frame) found a small iron safe, the safe door was open, the key was still in the lock, there was not much in it except for a few old letters and a few other unimportant documents. "Mrs. Les Pinnailles was nowhere to be found, but an unnatural amount of ashes was observed in the fireplace. The chimney was inspected, and, horribly to say the least, the body of her daughter was pulled upside down from there, and she was thrown upwards." Stuffed into the narrow hole, very deep. The body was still warm, and upon examination it was found to have numerous contusions, no doubt caused by the forceful up and down of the stuffing. Multiple severe scratches on the face, There were dark bruises and deep nail marks on the neck, as if strangled. "After a careful search of every part of the house, nothing new was found. The party came to a small courtyard at the back of the building, where the ground was paved. There lay the old lady's body with her throat severely wounded. It was cut, and when I moved my body, the head rolled away. The body was full of scars and messes like the head, and it was almost inhuman. "We believe there is no clue yet in this horrific mystery." The next day's paper added the following details: "The Massacre of Morgue Rouge. Several persons have been investigated in connection with this rare and horrific event," (the French word "incident" does not yet have the frivolous connotation that we have in our language), "but not yet Any clues that appear to help explain the incident. All substantive testimony that has been obtained is provided as follows: "Pauline Dubow, the laundress, testified under oath that she had known the two dead men for three years and had washed their clothes for three years. The old lady and her daughter seemed to get on very well - loving each other and being generous with their money. Don't know What do they do for a living. Believe Mrs. Lay lives by fortune telling. Rumor has it that she has savings. Never saw anyone outside when picking up and delivering clothes to their house. Surely they have no servants. That building except for the fourth floor Other than that, no part seems to be furnished. "Pierre Moloch, a tobacco merchant, testified on oath that he had regularly sold small quantities of tobacco and snuff to Madame Les Pinnailles for almost four years. He was born in the vicinity and had always lived there. The mother and daughter of the deceased were found The dead body has lived in the house for more than six years. The house was formerly leased to a jeweler who sublets the upper floor to various people. The house was Mrs. Lay's property because the disgruntled tenant was using her The old lady was a bit childish. Witnesses only saw the daughter five or six times in six years. The mother and daughter lived in isolation and were said to be quite Money. I heard from neighbors that Mrs. Lay used to tell fortunes for a living, but I don’t believe in it. I have never seen anyone go through that door except the mother and daughter—besides, the gatekeeper once or twice, and the doctor once. Eight to ten times. "The testimonies of many other persons and neighbors are generally the same, and there is no mention of who entered the building. Whether Mrs. Ley and her daughter have any living relatives and friends is unknown. The shutters of the front windows are rarely opened, and the shutters of the rear windows Always closed—except for the shutters in the back room on the fourth floor. Nice house, not too old. "Isidore Musset, the policeman, testified on oath that he was called to the house about three o'clock that morning, and saw at the gate twenty or thirty persons trying to get in. Finally forced it open--using a A bayonet, not a picket. It was easy to open the door, for it was a double door, or folding door, with no bolts under or above the door. The screaming continued until the door was pried open--then stopped suddenly. It seemed to be someone or two people screaming in great pain—the voice was high and long, neither short nor fast. The witness led us upstairs, and when we came to the first staircase, we heard two people arguing angrily— —One voice is rough, the other is much shriller and weirder. The first voice heard a few words, speaking in French, which is definitely not a female voice, and can hear 'holy' and 'devil'. The shrill voice is It was a foreigner’s, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, and I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it was believed to be in Spanish. The room and corpse described by this witness were disclosed by this newspaper yesterday. "Henri de Vare, neighbor, silversmith, testified under oath that he was one of the first to enter the house. It generally confirms Musset's account. They shut the door back as soon as they knocked it open, keeping the crowd out. Although the time It was late, and the crowd was still gathering rapidly. The witnesses believed that the shrill voice was Italian, certainly not French, and could not be sure that it was a human voice. It may be a woman's voice. The witness did not understand Italian, could not understand the words, But from the tone of voice he was convinced that it was Italian. He knew Mrs. Ley and her daughter, and had spoken to them both often, and was sure that the shrill voice was not one of them. "Odenheimer, restaurant owner. Volunteering. As he does not speak French, he was questioned through an interpreter. He is from Amsterdam and passed the house while screaming. The screaming lasted several minutes, maybe ten Minutes, very scary, very painful. He was one of the people who entered the building and confirmed everything that the previous people said, except for one thing: he must have a scream It was a man, a French man, inaudible Something was said, in a high, quick, uneven voice, evidently frightened, and in pain. It was harsh, more harsh than harsh, and could not be called a scream. The rude voice repeated:' Holy... devil...' said once: 'My God!' "Jours Minor, member of Minor & Sons, Rue de Roland, banker, old Minor. Madame Lespinnerier had a little fortune and had an account with him, eight years ago in the spring. It happened in 18XX. Mrs. Lai often deposited small sums of money, but never took them out. Three days before her death, she came to withdraw 4,000 francs in person, which was paid in gold coins, and a staff member sent her back. "Adolphe Le Bon, clerk of the Minor & Sons Bank, testified on oath that he accompanied Madame Lespinauer to her house about noon on the day of the accident with the four thousand francs in two pockets. The residence. As soon as the door opened Miss Lay came out and took one sack from him and Mrs. Lay the other. He bowed and went away. No one was seen in the street then. It was a back street, very remote. "William Bode, a sailor, testified on oath that he was one of those who entered the building. He was English, had lived in Paris for two years, and was one of the first to ascend the stairs. Hearing an argument, the rude French voice, I can hear a few words, but I can't remember them all now. I heard 'Holy—' and 'My God' clearly. There was a sound at that time, as if several people were fighting, it was a kind of scraping Scratching and running. High screeching—higher than rude, certainly not English, seems German. Possibly a woman's voice. He doesn't know German. "On request to testify again, four of the aforementioned witnesses testified under oath that when people reached the room where Miss Lay's body was found, the door was locked from inside. All was quiet—no shouting or other sounds. No one was seen. The windows of the front room and the back room were all pulled down and fastened firmly from the inside. There was a door between the two rooms, which was closed but not locked. The door from the front room to the passage was locked, and the key was inserted. On the indoor side. There is a small room at the end of the hallway in front of the house on the fourth floor. All carefully inspected, and a chimney broom poked through the chimney. The house has four floors, with an attic (with dormer windows). There is a flap door on the roof that has been nailed, nailed tightly - it seems that it has not been seen in many years Opened. Several witnesses gave different opinions on how long it took from hearing the quarrel to when the door was pried open. Some said it was short, some said it was three minutes, and some said it was long, some said it was five minutes—because opening the door was very troublesome. "Alphonso Garcio, the undertaker, testified on oath that he lived in the Rue Morgue, was a Spaniard, was one of those who entered the building, and did not go upstairs. He was nervous and fearful of ill effects from his agitation. Consequences. He heard arguing, the rough voice was French, couldn't make out what was being said. The shrill voice was English, sure yes. He didn't know English, judging from the tone of voice. "Albert Montagnier, the confectioner, testified on oath that he was one of the first to go up the stairs, heard the voice, which was rude and French, and heard the words, whose speaker seemed to be persuading; I couldn't make out what the screeching voice was saying, it was fast, jerky, like a Russian voice. He was Italian and had never spoken to a Russian. "Several witnesses here have confirmed by memory that all the chimneys on the fourth floor are very narrow and people cannot pass through. The so-called broom refers to the cylindrical broom used by the chimney sweep. Every chimney had been poked up and down. There was no way to go downstairs at the back of the house. Miss Lay's body was packed so tightly in the chimney that it couldn't be moved, and it took four or five people to pull it down. "Paul Dumas, Physician, testified on oath that he was called to see the bodies around daybreak. Both bodies lay on bedstead sackcloth in the room where Miss Lay's body was found. Miss Lay's body was bruised and bruised Seriously. She'd been stuffed down a chimney before, enough to explain her appearance. Her throat was badly bruised, with several deep scratches under her jaw, and a string of blue bruises, apparently finger prints. Her face became terribly pale, her eyeballs protruded, her tongue was partially bitten through, and there was a large bluish bruise on her breast, apparently on the top of her knee. Mr. Dumas believed that Ms. Choked to death by unknown persons. Her mother was horribly dismembered. Every bone in her right leg and arm was roughly shattered, and the tibia, like the left rib, was also shattered. Horrible bruises all over her body, which had become The formation of such injuries is simply inexplicable. This result must be a powerful person wielding a heavy and large blunt instrument, such as a heavy stick, a huge iron rod or a chair. It is possible. No matter what weapon a woman uses, she cannot cause such injury. When the witness saw it, the head of the deceased had been completely separated from the body, and the throat had obviously been cut open with a very sharp instrument, probably a razor. "Alexandre Etienne, the surgeon, who was called to see the body with M. Dumas, corroborates Mr. Dumas' testimony and opinion. "Although a few more testimonies were recorded, there was no significant progress. This kind of murder, where every detail is so mysterious and inexplicable, has never happened in Paris-if it is a murder. The police can't smell it at all. There was no scent of game—not even a trace of a lead. That's very rare in a case of this nature." The evening edition of the newspaper said that St. Rocher was still very excited.The building was again carefully inspected and the witnesses re-examined, still nothing.The newspaper postscript, however, declared that Adolphe Le Pen had been arrested and detained—though there was no evidence of his guilt other than that which had been reported in detail. Dupont seemed to be particularly interested in the development of the case, which I at least judged from his demeanor, for he said nothing, and did not ask my opinion on the case until the arrest of Le Pen was announced. I could only agree with all Paris that it was an unsolved mystery.I don't see a way to possibly track down the killer. "We cannot rely on this superficial investigation to determine the method," said Dupont. "The Paris police, who are so admired for their shrewdness, are nothing but cleverness. Their procedure has no other method than a matter-of-fact measure. They have taken many measures, but often they are wrong, reminding us of M. Jourdin. Mr. Jourdin wants to listen to music, but it is pajamas. The results achieved by the police Sometimes it is not surprising, but most of them rely on simple diligence and hard work. When such qualities do not work, their plans will fail. For example, Widock, he is very good at charades and has great perseverance. But he has not been trained in thinking, so he always makes mistakes by investigating deeply, as if he hurts his eyesight by letting what he looks at too close to the eyes. He may see a problem or two very clearly, but the result of doing so But it must be neglecting the overall situation. In this way, there is an overly deep problem-the truth is not always hidden in the well. In fact, if we talk about the more important knowledge, I believe it is always on the surface without exception but its root is in the valley we search for, not on the mountain-top where it was found. The mode and source of this kind of error are most typical in our thinking about the heavenly bodies. A few glances at a star , take a glance, and turn towards it the outer part of the iris of the eye (which is more receptive to faint images than the inner part), and see better, and best feel its light--the kind that follows the eye toward it. Diminished by the angle at which we turn. In the latter case, more light falls on the eyes, but in the former case, a sharper perception is produced. Excessive depth can disturb and weaken our thoughts. , too long-term concentrated or direct gaze is likely to make even Taibai Venus disappear from the sky. "As for the murder, let's not say what we think about it, and check it out for ourselves. Checking and checking can make us happy." ), "and Le Pen helped me once, and I am not without gratitude to him. Let us go and look at the house with our own eyes. I know the Superintendent of Police, Mr. Ge, and there will be no difficulty in obtaining the necessary approval." .” We were approved and immediately went to Mog Road.It was one of the deserted avenues between the Rue Richelieu and the Rue Saint-Rocher.Because it is far away from our residence, it was after three o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived.The house was easy to find, for someone across the street was looking up at the closed shutters with aimless curiosity.It was an ordinary Parisian building, with a gate, and on one side of the gate a guard's box with glass windows and sliding sashes, proving to be the porter's cottage.Before entering the door, we walked along the street, turned into an alley, turned again, and came to the back of the house.Dupont inspected the house and the whole adjoining district here very carefully—I couldn't see how that could be of any use. When we came back, we went to the front of the building, rang the bell, and showed our IDs.With permission from the superintendent, we went upstairs and into the room where Mademoiselle Lespinette's body was found.The two dead still lie there.The chaos in the room remained as prescribed.I have made no new discoveries other than those reported in the Tribune Magazine.Dupont watched everything carefully—even the victims' bodies.Then we went into other rooms and went to the backyard.The whole process was accompanied by a policeman.We checked in until dark before leaving.On the way home my partner was also delayed by a daily newspaper office. I've said that my partner's whims are endless, I have to admit.At the moment he refused to talk about the tragedy—he was that tempered until about noon the next day when he asked me out of the blue if I had found anything in particular at the scene of the atrocity. 不知道为什么，他强调“特别”一词时的态度使我背脊发凉。 “没有，没有什么特别的东西，”我说，“至少不比我们在报纸上看到的更特别。” “我担心的是，”他回答，“那'杂志'并没有触及惨案那不寻常的恐怖部分，但是报纸的意见我们就别管了。我似乎觉得，大家都以为这惨案侦破不了，而那正是应该让我们感到容易侦破的原因——我指的是惨案的表面现象。从表面上看，它似乎没有动机——不是没有杀人的动机，而是没有残暴杀人的动机。把警察弄糊涂的就是这东西。而听见了争吵跟楼上再也没有人（被杀害的莱斯潘娜叶小姐除外）这两个事实又似乎无法调和，再加上上楼的人不可能看不见逃走的凶手，这些都弄得他们晕头转向。那乱七八糟的房间，头冲下塞进烟囱的尸体，被悲惨地割掉了脑袋的老太太，再加上刚提到的那些问题，还有些不用我说的情况，已经足够让那个政府机构瘫痪，使他们所夸耀的'聪明'迷失方向。他们犯了一个常见的大错：混淆了反常与神秘。理智是在平常层面的悖离中摸索前进，并发现真理的——只要它肯摸索。在我们此刻所从事的这次调查里，应该问的问题不是'发生了什么'而是'发生了以前没有发生过的什么'。我事实上即将（或已经）揭开这个疑团，而我破案的轻松程度却恰好跟它在警察眼里的那表面的难解程度成正比。” 我瞪大了眼睛望着说话的人，惊呆了，说不出话来。 “我现在正等着一个人，”他望着我们公寓的门说了下去，“这人虽然未必是惨案的制造者，却跟它的发生有着密切的关系。这人在惨案最残酷的部分面前很可能是清白的。我希望我的这个假定没有错，因为我破解整个哑谜的希望就建立在这个假定上。我此刻就在这里随时期盼着那个人的到来——到这个房间里来。对，他可能不来，但八成会来。他要是来了就得让他留下。这是两把手枪，必要时我俩知道该怎么使用。” 我拿过手枪时几乎不知道自己在做什么，也不知道是否相信自己听见的话。这时杜邦又说了下去，很像在独白。在这种时刻他那神秘的样子我早说过了。他的话是说给我听的，但是声音和调子却好像是说给远处的人听的——虽然很低。他眼睛望着墙壁，没有表情。 “在楼梯上的人听见的争吵声，”他说，“不是那两个女人的声音，这已经得到充分证明。这就完全解除了我们的一个怀疑：老太太是否可能先杀了女儿然后自杀。我这样说主要是为了说明方法问题：因为莱斯潘娜叶太太根本没有力气把女儿的尸体塞进烟囱，就像那女孩被发现时的样子。而老太太自己身上的伤情也完全排除了自我毁灭的设想。因此，凶杀是第三方干的。人们听见的争吵声就是第三方的声音。现在我要谈一谈了，不是谈关于那争吵声的全部证词，而是谈证词里那特别的东西。你看出其中有什么特别的东西了吗？” 我指出，虽然所有的人都说那粗鲁的声音是法国人，但是对那尖厉的、有人说是难听的声音，却说法不一。 “你说的是证词本身，却仍然没有指出特别的东西。特别值得注意的东西是有的。你指出了证人们对那粗鲁的声音的看法相同，彼此一致；但是对那尖厉的声音的态度却还有点独特。不在于说法不一，而在于意大利人、英国人、西班牙人、荷兰人和法国人全都被描写成外国人的声音，都肯定不是自己同胞的声音，相反，都被认作自己所不熟悉的外国人的声音。法国人认为是西班牙人的声音，说是如果他懂西班牙语，就可能听出几个字。荷兰人坚持那是法国人的声音，但我们发现有个说明：因为这证人不懂法语，查问是靠翻译进行的。英国人认为那是德国人的声音，而他却'不懂德语'。西班牙人肯定那是英国人的声音，但却完全是靠语调判断的，因为他不懂英语。意大利人相信那是俄国人的声音，但是他从来没有跟俄国人说过话。而第二个法国人却反对第一个法国人的说法，他肯定那声音是意大利人的，而他也不懂那个语言，跟那西班牙人一样是从语调判断的。现在，从所能引用的有关证词看来，那声音真是奇怪得太不寻常！欧洲五大区域的居民谁都没有从那语调里听出熟悉的东西来！你可能会说那是亚洲人或是非洲人的声音，但是，亚洲人和非洲人在巴黎的不多。不过，对于这个推论我暂不否定，我只想提出三点：有个人说那声音'与其说是难听不如说是刺耳'，还有人说它'很快，不平稳'，却没有一个人说他分辨出了一个字。” “到现在为止，”杜邦接下去说道，“我不知道我的话对你的理解力产生了什么影响，但是，我可以毫不犹豫地说，这一部分证词（粗鲁声和尖厉声）的合理推论本身就足以产生一种怀疑，为进一步调查那神秘案件指出道路。我说'合理推论'，但还不能完全表达我的意思。我想表达的是：那是唯一的合理推论，从它所引申出的无可避免的唯一结论就是怀疑。不过，我怀疑的是什么，现在暂时不讲。我只希望你记住，对我而言，已经有足够力量构成具体的形象了——对我的室内调查而言，已经有一定的倾向了。 “现在，让我们在幻想中飞回那房间里去。我们在那儿首先要找什么？杀人犯逃走的办法。有一句话不为过分：我们俩都不相信超自然东西的存在。莱斯潘娜叶太太和小姐不是被妖精杀害的；而案犯也是物质的，是用物质的办法逃走的。那么，是怎么逃走的呢？幸运的是，在这个问题上只有一种思维方式，那方式一定要把我们引向一个结论——现在我们就一个一个地开始检查可能逃走的方式吧。很显然，在人们上楼时，凶手就在发现莱斯潘娜叶小姐尸体的房间里，至少也在附近的房间里。那么，我们就只能在这两个房间里去找逃走的路了。警察已经从各个方面搜查了地板、天花板和墙壁，以他们的机敏是绝不会放过任何秘密出口的。但是，我还没有相信他们的眼睛，我又用自己的眼睛检查了一遍。那么，秘密出口是没有的了，从两个房间通向走廊的门都是从内部牢牢锁住的，钥匙留在锁孔里。我们再看看烟囱吧。壁炉以上八或十英尺的烟囱都是普通宽度，是连大一点的猫都钻不过的。通过已经分析过的道路逃走既已绝对不可能，那就只剩下窗户了。没有人能从前屋的窗户逃走而不引起街上人的注意，因此杀人犯只能是从后屋窗户逃走的。现在，我们已经接近了这样一个不容含糊的结论。作为推理者，对这个结论我们是不能因为表面上的不可能而否定的。这样，留下来要我们证明的就只能是：这种表面上的不可能其实就是可能。 “这房间有两个窗户，一个没有被家具堵住，完全看得见，另外那扇窗户下半部被塞到窗前的笨重床架挡住了，看不全。人们发现前一个窗户被从里面牢牢关住了，想打开它的人用尽了力气也不行。窗框的左边有一个用钻子钻出的大孔，里面插了一根结实的钉子，几乎只留了钉头在外面。他们检查了另外那扇窗户，同样有一颗钉子插在里面，同样是用很大的劲也打不开。警察完全满足了，认为在这个方向无路可逃。因此，他们认为取下钉子打开窗户是多此一举。 “我自己的检查却要挑剔一些，那是由于我刚才提出的原因：我认为，要证明一切表面上的不可能其实是可能的，必须从这儿入手。 “我是这样思考的——从结果反溯原因。杀人犯就是从这两扇窗户逃走的，既然如此，他们就不可能像我们所看见的那样，再从室内插上窗户。这表面现象使警察停止了对这个地方的检查。可是，窗户又确实是关上的。那么，这窗户就一定有自己关闭的能力。这个结论无法回避。我来到那没有被挡住的窗户前，费了些劲取出了那颗钉子。我要想抬起窗户。正如我所估计的，竭尽全力也抬不动。我现在明白了，一定还有个隐藏的弹簧，我坚信这一点，不管那钉子的情况看上去多么神秘，我相信至少我的设想是正确的。我仔细一找，果然很快就找到了那隐藏的弹簧。我摁了摁，证明我的发现是对的。我停了手，没有打开窗户。 “现在我重新放回钉子，仔细观察了它一下。一个从窗户钻出去的人是可能把窗户再关上的。但是，弹簧可以卡上，钉子却无法放回。结论很明显，这就再次缩小了我的调查范围。杀人犯一定是从另外一扇窗户逃走的。那么，我们假定两扇窗户上的弹簧都一样（那八成有可能），那么，就必须在两枚钉子上找出不一样的地方，至少它们的固定的方式不一样。我爬上了披着麻布的床架，越过床头板仔细检查第二扇窗户。我把手伸到床头板后面，很容易就找到了弹簧，按了按。跟我的假定相同，它的性质跟另一枚弹簧完全一样。现在我看了看那钉子，它跟另一枚钉子一样结实，也是像那样差不多只看见钉头。 “你会说我可能茫然了，你要真这样说的话，就一定是误解了我的推论的性质。借用一个打猎的术语，我一刻也没有出错，从没有跟掉过猎物的气味。整个链条没有一个环节有缺漏，我已经把疑团追踪到了最后的结果。结果就在那颗钉子上。我说过了，它跟另外一扇窗户的钉子各方面都一样。这个结果虽然看来是结论性的，可是跟线索追踪到此结束的推理一比，就绝对是虚幻的了。'钉子一定有问题。'我说。我一抽，取出的是带大约半寸钉身的钉头，剩下的半截还在孔里，是断在了里面。断面是旧的，边上生了锈，显然是用锤子敲断的，下半截钉子还留在窗框里。现在我把断掉的部分仔细放还洞里，看去还是一枚完美无缺的钉子，断口却看不见。我一摁弹簧，窗户抬起了几英寸，钉头也跟着抬起，却还牢牢插在洞里。我关上窗户，钉子看上去仍然无懈可击。 “现在，谜底找到了。杀人犯是从靠床的窗户逃走的。他一走出，窗户就自动落下（或是故意拉下），被弹簧锁住。警察把弹簧的锁力当成了钉子的作用，于是认为没有必要再追究了。 “下一个问题是下楼的方式。在这一点上我在跟你一起围着那房子转时已经得到了答案。距离那扇窗户大约五英尺的地方竖着一根避雷针，没有人能从避雷针爬上窗户，更不用说爬进屋去了。但是我注意到，四楼的百叶窗很特别，是巴黎木匠所说的'火印式'。这种花饰现在已不大使用，但在里昂和波尔多极古老的建筑上仍然常见。它的样子很像普通的门（单扇门，不是折叠门），但是上半部装饰了格子花或散放花架，这就给手提供了极佳的攀援点。目前这窗户的百叶窗足有三英尺半宽。我们从房子背后看去，两扇百叶窗都大体半开，就是说跟墙壁构成九十度的角。警察很有可能跟我一样，检查了公寓房的背后，但即使检查过，只见这火印式格子窗像那样开着（肯定是那样开着的），就看不出它会有那么宽。总而言之，他们没有给予它应有的重视。事实上，他们既然满足于认为这个方面不可能有出口，当然也只随便检查一下完事。但是我却很清楚，床头上那扇窗户的百叶窗如果打开到靠近墙壁的程度，距离避雷针就只有两英尺。还有一点也很清楚，只要鼓起极不寻常的力量和勇气，从避雷针是可以进入窗户的。一个强盗伸手到两英尺半处（我们现在假定百叶窗完全打开，贴紧墙壁）是可以牢牢抓住窗格的。然后，他放掉避雷针，一条腿安全地顶住墙壁，鼓起勇气一蹬，就可能晃动百叶窗，让它关闭。让我们想象那时窗户开着，他就有可能晃进屋子里去。 “我请你特别记住，我说过，要胜利地完成这样危险和困难的动作，要求异乎寻常的矫健身手。我打算向你表明：第一，那是可以做到的；而第二，主要的，请你让自己深刻理解，能完成这种动作的矫健身手非常罕见，几乎是超自然的。 “你无疑会使用法律的术语说，为了'自圆其说'，我应该低估完成那动作所需的矫健程度，而不该坚持充分估计。在法律上可能会这样，但从理智上却不能这么做。我的直接目标只是事实，而间接的目标则是引导你把我刚才提到的那极不寻常的动作，联系那极其奇特的、尖厉的（或刺耳的）、不稳定的声音来进行思考。对于那声音的国籍没有两个人的意见是一致的，而它说的话却又连一个音节也没有人听出来。” 听见了这些话，杜邦的意思变成了个半成形的模糊概念，掠过我的心里，我似乎来到了理解的边缘，却没有能力理解。就像有人有时那样，似乎到了回忆的边缘，却又终于没有回忆起来。我的朋友继续分析下去。 “你会发现，”他说，“我的问题已经从怎么逃走变成了怎么进屋了。我的设想是：进屋与出屋是同一个办法，同一个地点。我们现在回来看看屋子内部。先看外表。据说五斗橱的抽屉被盗了，虽然里面许多衣服还在。这个结论是荒谬的，只是一种猜想，非常愚蠢的猜想。我们怎么会知道抽屉里看见的就不是原有的东西的全部？莱斯潘娜叶太太和她的女儿过着离群索居的生活，不会见客人，也很少出门，用不着换多少衣服。已发现的东西至少是这样的女士们所能买得起的。强盗真要偷，为什么不拣最好的？为什么不全拿走？一句话，他为什么放着四千金法郎不要，却去拿一包累赘的衣服？金币扔下了——银行家密诺先生所说的数目差不多全部都在，口袋里有，地板上也有。因此，我希望你从你思想上扔掉动机这个误导的想法，那是金币送到门口那部分证词在警察头脑里唤起的念头。款子送去了三天，收款人就被杀害。比这还惊人十倍的巧合在人们的生活里每个小时都在出现，却没有引起谁片刻的注意。对于那类没有受过丝毫或然率教育的人来说，一般的巧合是很大的绊脚石。而或然率是人类研究过的最光辉的问题之一，它使人们获得了最辉煌的成就。就以现在的案例而言，要是金币不见了，三天前送金币的事可以构成不止是巧合的理由，还可以构成证实动机的想法。但是，就这桩案件的实际情况来看，我们如果假定黄金是凶杀的动机，那么我们就还得想象出案犯是那么个犹豫不决的傻瓜，把黄金连同作案动机都一起放弃了。 “现在，我想要请你注意的问题你都牢记了：那特别的声音，那特别的矫健，那特别残酷却又特别缺少动机的杀害。现在我们来看看这次屠杀本身吧。这儿是一个用双手的力量掐死、然后被头朝下塞进烟囱里去的妇女——一般的杀手是不会使用这种方法的。最不可能的是对已经杀死的人的这种处理。你不能不承认，把尸体倒塞进烟囱的做法是十分独特的，跟我们人类行为的一般概念完全无法一致，即使把杀手看作是穷凶极恶的人也讲不通。你再想想看，把尸体用那么大的力气往上塞进那么小的洞里，几个人一起用劲还几乎拽不下来，那得要多大的力气！ “再看看使用极其惊人的力气的其他表现吧。壁炉上有几大把头发，很大把的灰色头发，是连根拔下来的。哪怕只从头上扯下二三十根头发，也得要多大的劲你是知道的。那几把头发你和我都看见。头发根（可怕的景象）上连着一块块头皮和肉。它无疑说明使用了超人的膂力，那得是可以一次拽下五十万根头发的力气！老太太的喉头不仅是割破了，连脑袋都跟身子完全分了家，而工具不过是一把剃刀！我希望你再看看这案子的凶暴残忍，莱斯潘娜叶太太身上的伤就不再说了。杜马先生和他尊贵的同事爱迪安先生已指出，那是由某种钝器造成的。到目前为止这两位先生都没有错。那钝器显然就是院子的石头地面，受害者是从靠床的窗户扔到地上来的。这个现在看来似乎非常简单的想法被警察的推理忽略了，理由跟他们忽略百叶窗打开的宽度相同。因为警察的观察力受到了那枚钉子的蒙蔽，他们根本想不到那窗户有打开的可能。 “如果现在，在这一切之上，你再恰如其分地考虑了房里那离奇的混乱和我们探讨过的那些问题：惊人的矫健、超人的膂力、凶暴残忍、没有动机的屠杀、跟人类绝对不同的出奇的恐怖，再加上好多个国家的人都听不出的语言，丝毫分辨不出的音节……那么，结论是什么？对你的想象力造成了什么印象呢？” 我被杜邦几个问题一问，不禁毛骨悚然了。“这案子是，”我说，“一个疯子干的——从附近疗养院逃出的一个满嘴梦呓的精神病人。” “在有些方面，”他回答，“你的想法并非不在点子上。但是疯子说话，即使乱七八糟，也不会像人们在楼梯上听见的声音那么特别。疯子也总是哪个国家的人吧，他们的语言不管怎么乱，总会有音节贯穿的。何况疯子的毛发绝不会像我现在手上的这样子。这一小撮毛是我从莱斯潘娜叶太太僵硬捏紧的手指头里取出来的。对这东西你怎么看呢？告诉我。” “杜邦，”我说这话时彻底失去了勇气，“这个毛非常奇怪，不是人类的毛。” “我可没有说它是人类的毛，”他说，“但是，对这个问题我们先不下结论。我希望你来看看我在这张纸上画出的轮廓。它是一幅准确的临摹图，临摹的是一部分证词所说的莱斯潘娜叶小姐喉咙上的'青色淤斑'和'深深的抓痕'和另一部分证词（杜马和爱迪安两位的）所说的'一串青色的淤斑，显然是手指印'。 “你能看出，”我的朋友说着把那张纸铺开在我们面前的桌子上，“这幅图表现出那东西抓得有多紧，多死，看不出丝毫挪动，每根指头都抠得死死的，抓紧在最初抓住的地方，很可能直到把人掐死。你现在来试试看：把你所有的指头同时放到你所看见的指印上。” 我试了试，做不到。 “我们的试验可能不公平，”他说，“纸是摊开在平面上的，而人的喉咙是圆柱体。这儿有一段圆形木柱，周长跟喉咙差不多。把这画包在它上面，再试一下看。” 我照办了，但是困难显然比刚才还大。 “这不是人类的手印。”我说。 “现在你，”杜邦回答，“读一读居维叶下面的这一段话。” 那是一段对东印度群岛的黄褐色大猩猩的详细叙述，总体看来是描述性的。这种哺乳类动物的魁梧的个子、超人的力气、矫健的动作、它的野蛮残暴和喜爱模仿的倾向是人所共知的。我明白了这次惨杀的恐怖程度。 “它对指头的描写，”我读完后说，“跟这张图完全一致。我看出来了，除了这里描写的这种大猩猩，任何野兽也不能造成你所画出的指印布局。而这一撮黄褐色的毛也跟居维叶所描述的野兽的毛的性质完全相符。但是，我还是不能理解这桩神秘的恐怖案的细节，而且还有人听见的两个人争吵的声音，其中一个还无疑是个法国人。” “没有错！你应该还记得一句话，那是大家一致认为出自那个声音的'我的上帝'，这个声音在那个环境里被一个证人（糖果商蒙塔尼）正确地认作是阻止或是诱劝的表示，因此，我彻底揭开这个疑团的希望就主要建立在这句话上。一个法国人看见了这场凶杀，而他有可能并没有参与这次血腥的活动——事实上比'有可能'还可能了许多。大猩猩有可能是从他身边跑掉的，那人有可能跟踪到了这间屋子，但是在随后的令人激动的情况下他再也抓不住它了。那大猩猩有可能目前还在逃。我不再继续猜测下去了——因为我无权说它不是猜测，而这些猜测所依据的设想还不够充分，我自己的理智还不能接受，也还不能让别人的理解力接受。那么，我们就把它看作是猜测，也称作是猜测吧。如果那法国人正如我所猜测的一样，在凶杀案里是清白的，那么我昨天晚上在《环球报》社留下的广告就会把他带到我们的住处来——《环球报》为航运界的利益服务，水手们喜欢看。” 他递给我一张报纸，我读到了下面的话： 捕获——×月×日（惨案发生的早晨）在布伦森林捕获婆罗洲产大猩猩一只。该猩猩主人（据确认为马耳他某船水手）如能提出满意证据，付出一定的捕捉与饲养补偿，即可领回。请于3日前来圣日尔曼郊区×路××号接洽。 “你怎么可能知道那人是水手，”我问，“而且是马耳他船上的水手呢？” “我不知道，”杜邦说，“我没有把握。但是我有一个小小的丝结在这儿，它的样子和油腻都显然说明是用来系水手们喜欢的那种长辫子的。还有，这种结子除了水手，尤其是马耳他水手，很少有人会打。我是在避雷针下拾到的，而它不可能是死者的。我之所以推测他是马耳他船上的法国水手，靠的就是这条丝带。即使我推测错了，我登在广告上的话也没有任何妨碍。说错了，他也只会认为我受到了什么东西的误导，不会费事去追究的；但是，如果我说对了，我却能赢得一个高分。那法国人清白无辜，却知道这惨案，他自然会犹豫不决：会考虑是否对广告做出反帀·，是否前来认领大猩猩。他会这样想：'我是清白的，我很穷，而我的大猩猩很值钱——它对目前处境里的我是一大笔财富。我干吗要因为毫无根据的畏惧而放弃它呢？大猩猩就在那里，可以要回来。它是在布伦森林抓到的，距离杀人现场非常远，谁能想到作案的会是这头凶猛的野兽呢？警察并没有嗅到气味，并没有找到丝毫线索。即使他们追踪了大猩猩，也不可能证明我是知情的，也不会因为我见到过现场而把我扯到案子里去。而最重要的是：有人已经知道我了。登广告的人指明了我是大猩猩的主人，那人究竟了解我到什么程度我还不知道，要是这么宝贵的财富我都不敢去认领，而人家又知道是我的，至少是会引起对那畜生的怀疑的，我的办法是不要让人注意到我或那畜生。我要对广告做出反应，把猩猩领回来，好好地隐藏起来，等到风声过去。'” 这时候我们听见楼梯上传来了脚步声。 “准备好手枪，”杜邦说，“但是，没有我的信号绝不能使用，也别暴露。” 房屋的大门开着，客人已进来了。他没有拉铃，上了几级台阶，似乎犹豫了。我们随即听见他走下了台阶。杜邦急忙往门边走，我们又听见那人在台阶上站住了，这一回他没有往下走，而是下定决心走了上来，敲了门。 “请进。”杜邦欢欢喜喜地说。 那人进来了，显然是个水手，一个高大、健壮、肌肉暴突的汉子，脸上带着敢于挑战魔鬼的神气，并非完全不讨人喜欢。那张脸晒得很黑，又给络腮胡和八字胡遮去了一大半。他手握一根结实的橡木短棍，看来再没有别的武器。他笨拙地鞠了一个躬，用法国口音说了声“晚上好”，虽带点纳夏托的口音，却足以表明他出生在巴黎。 “请坐，朋友，”杜邦说，“我估计你是来认领大猩猩的。说真话，我可真羡慕你有这么一头出色的畜生。它无疑很值钱。你估计它有多大了？” 水手嘘了一口大气，似乎卸下了心里一个难以承担的重负，用自信的口气回答道： “我说不清，但不会大于四五岁。它就在你这儿吗？” “啊，不在，我们这儿没有饲养条件。它在附近的杜波格路牲畜寄养处。上午你就可以得到。你当然已经准备好了认领证明。” “没有问题的，先生。” “跟它分手我还真有点不舍得呢。”杜邦说。 “你喂养了他，我没有让你白费力气的意思，先生，”他说，“不会那么想的。我很愿意为你找到大猩猩而付给你报酬，就是说，只要合理。” “好了，”我的朋友说，“当然会公平合理。我来想想看！我想要的是什么报酬呢？啊，我来告诉你吧。我想要的报酬是：请你尽你所知告诉我莫格路杀人案的情况。” 杜邦说最后这句话时声音很低，态度很平静，同时平静地来到了门口，锁上了门，把钥匙放进了口袋。然后他从胸前取出了一把手枪，丝毫不带炫示地放到桌上。 水手的脸红了，似乎在跟窒息作斗争。他猛一蹦站了起来，抓住短棍，但随即一屁股坐回了原位。他一脸死亡的颜色，猛烈地发起抖来，没有说话。我打心底深处可怜他。 “我的朋友，”杜邦口气温和地说，“你这是在白吓唬自己，真的。我们完全没有伤害你的意思，我以绅士和法国人的荣誉向你保证没有。我完全明白你在莫格路惨案里是清白的。不过，要否认你跟那事有一定的牵连也不行。我刚才已经说过，你肯定明白我对这事有相当的消息来源，而那来源是你做梦也想不到的。现在，情况就是这样，你可以避免的事你都避免了，你肯定没有犯罪，即使在有可能逍遥法外的情况下也没有犯盗窃罪。你没有什么必要隐瞒，也没有理由隐瞒。而在另一方面，按照一切道德的原则，你也必须坦白说出你所知道的全部情况。现在有个无辜的人被拘留了，就是因为你能指出的凶手的那桩罪行。” 杜邦说这话时，水手的情绪大大地稳定了下来，原来那副豁出去了的神气消失了。 “上帝保佑，”他稍停了片刻说，“我愿意把我所知道的情况全部告诉你，但是我估计你对我的话是一半也不会信的——换了我，我要是信了也会是个傻瓜。可是，我确实是清白的，即使要我为此丢了命，我也得把心里的话全说出来。” 下面就是他所说的话的实质内容。他最近航海去了一趟东印度群岛，跟几个人在婆罗洲上了岸，为了好玩，进入了腹地。他跟一个朋友一起捉住了一头大猩猩。那朋友死去后，大猩猩就成了他一个人的财产。在回国路上，那桀骜不驯的动物的暴烈脾气惹了很大的麻烦，可