弄假成真2
时间：2025-03-03 03:20:58
（单词翻译:单击）
Two
There was a moment’s silence as Poirot stared at her. Then he asked sharply: “Something wrong?
How?”
“I don’t know…That’s what I want you to find out. But I’ve felt—more and more—that I was
being—oh!—engineered…jockeyed along…Call me a fool if you like, but I can only say that if
there was to be a real murder tomorrow instead of a fake one, I shouldn’t be surprised!”
“Very interesting,” said Poirot.
“I suppose you think I’m a complete fool,” said Mrs. Oliver defensively.
“I have never thought you a fool,” said Poirot.
“And I know what you always say—or look—about intuition.”
“One calls things by different names,” said Poirot. “I am quite ready to believe that you have
noticed something, or heard something, that has definitely aroused in you anxiety. I think it is
possible that you yourself may not even know just what it is that you have seen or noticed or
heard. You are aware only of the result. If I may so put it, you do not know what it is that you
know. You may label that intuition if you like.”
“It makes one feel such a fool,” said Mrs. Oliver, ruefully, “not to be able to be definite.”
“We shall arrive,” said Poirot encouragingly. “You say that you have had the feeling of being—
how did you put it—jockeyed along? Can you explain a little more clearly what you mean by
that?”
“Well, it’s rather difficult…You see, this is my murder, so to speak. I’ve thought it out and
planned it and it all fits in—dovetails. Well, if you know anything at all about writers, you’ll know
that they can’t stand suggestions. People say ‘Splendid, but wouldn’t it be better if so and so did so
and so?’ or ‘Wouldn’t it be a wonderful idea if the victim was A instead of B? Or the murderer
turned out to be D instead of E?’ I mean, one wants to say: ‘All right then, write it yourself if you
want it that way!’”
Poirot nodded.
“And that is what has been happening?”
stand over the other, I’ve accepted the triviality without noticing much.”
“I see,” said Poirot. “Yes—it is a method, that…Something rather crude and preposterous4 is put
forward—but that is not really the point. The small minor alteration5 is really the objective. Is that
what you mean?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” said Mrs. Oliver. “And, of course, I may be imagining it, but I
don’t think I am—and none of the things seem to matter anyway. But it’s got me worried—that,
and a sort of—well—atmosphere.”
“Who has made these suggestions of alterations6 to you?”
“Different people,” said Mrs. Oliver. “If it was just one person I’d be more sure of my ground.
But it’s not just one person—although I think it is really. I mean it’s one person working through
other quite unsuspecting people.”
“Have you an idea as to who that one person is?”
Mrs. Oliver shook her head.
“It’s somebody very clever and very careful,” she said. “It might be anybody.”
“Who is there?” asked Poirot. “The cast of characters must be fairly limited?”
and frightfully stupid outside business, I should think, but probably dead sharp in it. And there’s
Lady Stubbs—Hattie—about twenty years younger than he is, rather beautiful, but dumb as a fish
—in fact, I think she’s definitely half-witted. Married him for his money, of course, and doesn’t
think about anything but clothes and jewels. Then there’s Michael Weyman—he’s an architect,
“Folly? What is that—a masquerade?”
“No, it’s architectural. One of those little sort of temple things, white, with columns. You’ve
probably seen them at Kew. Then there’s Miss Brewis, she’s a sort of secretary housekeeper10, who
runs things and writes letters—very grim and efficient. And then there are the people round about
who come in and help. A young married couple who have taken a cottage down by the river—
Alec Legge and his wife Sally. And Captain Warburton, who’s the Mastertons’ agent. And the
people owned Nasse originally. But they’ve died out, or been killed in wars, and there were lots of
death duties so the last heir sold the place.”
Poirot considered this list of characters, but at the moment they were only names to him. He
returned to the main issue.
“Whose idea was the Murder Hunt?”
“Mrs. Masterton’s, I think. She’s the local M.P.’s wife, very good at organizing. It was she who
persuaded Sir George to have the fête here. You see the place has been empty for so many years
that she thinks people will be keen to pay and come in to see it.”
“That all seems straightforward13 enough,” said Poirot.
“It all seems straightforward,” said Mrs. Oliver obstinately14; “but it isn’t. I tell you, M. Poirot,
there’s something wrong.”
Poirot looked at Mrs. Oliver and Mrs. Oliver looked back at Poirot.
“How have you accounted for my presence here? For your summons to me?” Poirot asked.
“That was easy,” said Mrs. Oliver. “You’re to give away the prizes for the Murder Hunt.
that I was sure your name would be a terrific draw—as, of course, it will be,” Mrs. Oliver added
tactfully.
“I tell you, everybody was thrilled.”
Mrs. Oliver thought it unnecessary to mention that amongst the younger generation one or two
had asked “Who is Hercule Poirot?”
Mrs. Oliver shook her head.
“That is a pity,” said Hercule Poirot.
“You mean it might have given us a line?”
“A would-be criminal could hardly be expected to welcome my presence.”
“I suppose you think I’ve imagined the whole thing,” said Mrs. Oliver ruefully. “I must admit
that until I started talking to you I hadn’t realized how very little I’ve got to go upon.”
Mrs. Oliver glanced at her watch.
“It’s just teatime. We’ll go back to the house and then you can meet everybody.”
She took a different path from the one by which Poirot had come. This one seemed to lead in the
opposite direction.
“We pass by the boathouse this way,” Mrs. Oliver explained.
thatched affair.
“That’s where the Body’s going to be,” said Mrs. Oliver. “The body for the Murder Hunt, I
mean.”
“And who is going to be killed?”
“Oh, a girl hiker, who is really the Yugoslavian first wife of a young Atom Scientist,” said Mrs.
Poirot blinked.
“Of course it looks as though the Atom Scientist had killed her—but naturally it’s not as simple
as that.”
“Naturally not—since you are concerned….”
Mrs. Oliver accepted the compliment with a wave of the hand.
fifth clue.”
Poirot abandoned the subtleties26 of Mrs. Oliver’s plot to ask a practical question:
“But how do you arrange for a suitable body?”
“Girl Guide,” said Mrs. Oliver. “Sally Legge was going to be it—but now they want her to dress
up in a turban and do the fortune-telling. So it’s a Girl Guide called Marlene Tucker. Rather dumb
and sniffs,” she added in an explanatory manner. “It’s quite easy—just peasant scarves and a
arrange the cord round her neck. Rather dull for the poor kid—just sticking inside that boathouse
until she’s found, but I’ve arranged for her to have a nice bundle of comics—there’s a clue to the
“It’s never difficult to think of things,” said Mrs. Oliver. “The trouble is that you think of too
many, and then it all becomes too complicated, so you have to relinquish30 some of them and that is
rather agony. We go up this way now.”
They started up a steep zigzagging31 path that led them back along the river at a higher level. At a
twist through the trees they came out on a space surmounted32 by a small white pilastered temple.
Standing33 back and frowning at it was a young man wearing dilapidated flannel34 trousers and a shirt
“Mr. Michael Weyman, M. Hercule Poirot,” said Mrs. Oliver.
The young man acknowledged the introduction with a careless nod.
“Extraordinary,” he said bitterly, “the places people put things! This thing here, for instance. Put
up only about a year ago—quite nice of its kind and quite in keeping with the period of the house.
But why here? These things were meant to be seen—‘situated on an eminence’—that’s how they
phrased it—with a nice grassy37 approach and daffodils, etcetera. But here’s this poor little devil,
stuck away in the midst of trees—not visible from anywhere—you’d have to cut down about
twenty trees before you’d even see it from the river.”
“Perhaps there wasn’t any other place,” said Mrs. Oliver.
Michael Weyman snorted.
all the same—no artistic sense. Has a fancy for a ‘Folly,’ as he calls it, orders one. Looks round
for somewhere to put it. Then, I understand, a big oak tree crashes down in a gale39. Leaves a nasty
scar. ‘Oh, we’ll tidy the place up by putting a Folly there,’ says the silly ass12. That’s all they ever
think about, these rich city fellows, tidying up! I wonder he hasn’t put beds of red geraniums and
calceolarias all round the house! A man like that shouldn’t be allowed to own a place like this!”
He sounded heated.
“This young man,” Poirot observed to himself, “assuredly does not like Sir George Stubbs.”
“It’s bedded down in concrete,” said Weyman. “And there’s loose soil underneath—so it’s
re-erect it on the top of the bank near the house. That’s my advice, but the obstinate15 old fool won’t
hear of it.”
“What about the tennis pavilion?” asked Mrs. Oliver.
Gloom settled even more deeply on the young man.
because Lady Stubbs fancies herself in Chinese coolie hats. Who’d be an architect? Anyone who
wants something decent built hasn’t got the money, and those who have the money want
“You have my commiserations,” said Poirot gravely.
“George Stubbs,” said the architect scornfully. “Who does he think he is? Dug himself into
some cushy Admiralty job in the safe depths of Wales during the war—and grows a beard to
suggest he saw active naval43 service on convoy44 duty—or that’s what they say. Stinking45 with money
—absolutely stinking!”
“Well, you architects have got to have someone who’s got money to spend, or you’d never have
and the dispirited architect prepared to follow her.
“These tycoons,” said the latter bitterly, “can’t understand first principles.” He delivered a final
kick to the lopsided Folly. “If the foundations are rotten—everything’s rotten.”
“It is profound what you say there,” said Poirot. “Yes, it is profound.”
The path they were following came out from the trees and the house showed white and beautiful
before them in its setting of dark trees rising up behind it.
“It is of a veritable beauty, yes,” murmured Poirot.
“He wants to build a billiard room on,” said Mr. Weyman venomously.
climbed up to greet them, panting slightly.
“Everything neglected for years,” she said. “And so difficult nowadays to get a man who
understands shrubs. This hillside should be a blaze of colour in March and April, but very
disappointing this year—all this dead wood ought to have been cut away last autumn—”
“M. Hercule Poirot, Mrs. Folliat,” said Mrs. Oliver.
The elderly lady beamed.
“So this is the great M. Poirot! It is kind of you to come and help us tomorrow. This clever lady
here has thought out a most puzzling problem—it will be such a novelty.”
Poirot was faintly puzzled by the graciousness of the little lady’s manner. She might, he
thought, have been his hostess.
He said politely:
“Mrs. Oliver is an old friend of mine. I was delighted to be able to respond to her request. This
Mrs. Folliat nodded in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Yes. It was built by my husband’s great-grandfather in 1790. There was an Elizabethan house
previously50. It fell into disrepair and burned down in about 1700. Our family has lived here since
1598.”
Her voice was calm and matter of fact. Poirot looked at her with closer attention. He saw a very
small and compact little person, dressed in shabby tweeds. The most noticeable feature about her
was her clear china-blue eyes. Her grey hair was closely confined by a hairnet. Though obviously
careless of her appearance, she had that indefinable air of being someone which is so hard to
explain.
As they walked together towards the house, Poirot said diffidently, “It must be hard for you to
have strangers living here.”
There was a moment’s pause before Mrs. Folliat answered. Her voice was clear and precise and
“So many things are hard, M. Poirot,” she said.
点击
收听单词发音
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1
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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2
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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3
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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4
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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5
alteration
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| n.变更，改变；蚀变 | |
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6
alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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7
plebeian
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| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
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8
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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9
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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10
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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11
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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12
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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13
straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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14
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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15
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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16
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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17
demur
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| v．表示异议，反对 | |
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18
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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19
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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20
intrigued
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| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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21
jutted
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| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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22
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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23
glibly
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| adv.流利地，流畅地；满口 | |
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24
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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25
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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26
subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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27
flop
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| n.失败(者)，扑通一声；vi.笨重地行动，沉重地落下 | |
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28
scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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29
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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30
relinquish
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| v.放弃，撤回，让与，放手 | |
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31
zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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32
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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33
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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34
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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35
virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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36
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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37
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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38
tycoon
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| n.有钱有势的企业家，大亨 | |
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39
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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40
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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41
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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42
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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43
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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44
convoy
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| vt.护送，护卫，护航；n.护送；护送队 | |
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45
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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46
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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47
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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48
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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49
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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50
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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51
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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52
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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