伯特伦旅馆之谜28
时间：2026-01-04 08:00:38
（单词翻译:单击）
II
The screaming—a woman’s—was piercing the mist with a note of terror.
Chief- Inspector Davy raced down Pond Street in the direction of the
screams. He could dimly visualize a woman’s figure backed against a rail-
ing. In a dozen strides he had reached her. She wore a long pale fur coat,
and her shining blonde hair hung down each side of her face. He thought
for a moment that he knew who she was, then he realized that this only a
slip of a girl. Sprawled on the pavement at her feet was the body of a man
in uniform. Chief-Inspector Davy recognized him. It was Michael Gorman.
As Davy came up to the girl, she clutched at him, shivering all over,
stammering out broken phrases.
“Someone tried to kill me…Someone…they shot at me…If it hadn’t been
for him —” She pointed down at the motionless figure at her feet. “He
pushed me back and got in front of me—and then the second shot came…
and he fell…He saved my life. I think he’s hurt—badly hurt….”
Chief-Inspector Davy went down on one knee. His torch came out. The
tall Irish commissionaire had fallen like a soldier. The left-hand side of his
tunic showed a wet patch that was growing wetter as the blood oozed out
into the cloth. Davy rolled up an eyelid, touched a wrist. He rose to his feet
again.
“He’s had it all right,” he said.
The girl gave a sharp cry. “Do you mean he’s dead? Oh no, no! He can’t
be dead.”
“Who was it shot at you?”
“I don’t know…I’d left my car just round the corner and was feeling my
way along by the railings—I was going to Bertram’s Hotel. And then sud-
denly there was a shot—and a bullet went past my cheek and then—he—
the porter from Bertram’s—came running down the street towards me,
and shoved me behind him, and then another shot came…I think—I think
whoever it was must have been hiding in that area there.”
Chief-Inspector Davy looked where she pointed. At this end of Bertram’s
Hotel there was an old-fashioned area below the level of the street, with a
gate and some steps down to it. Since it gave only on some storerooms it
was not much used. But a man could have hidden there easily enough.
“You didn’t see him?”
“Not properly. He rushed past me like a shadow. It was all thick fog.”
Davy nodded.
The girl began to sob hysterically.
“But who could possibly want to kill me? Why should anyone want to
kill me? That’s the second time. I don’t understand…why….”
One arm round the girl, Chief-Inspector Davy fumbled in his pocket with
the other hand.
The shrill notes of a police whistle penetrated the mist.
III
In the lounge of Bertram’s Hotel, Miss Gorringe had looked up sharply
from the desk.
One or two of the visitors had looked up also. The older and deafer did
not look up.
Henry, about to lower a glass of old brandy to a table, stopped poised
with it still in his hand.
Miss Marple sat forward, clutching the arms of her chair. A retired ad-
miral said derisively:
“Accident! Cars collided in the fog, I expect.”
The swing doors from the street were pushed open. Through them came
what seemed like an outsize policeman, looking a good deal larger than
life.
He was supporting a girl in a pale fur coat. She seemed hardly able to
walk. The policeman looked round for help with some embarrassment.
Miss Gorringe came out from behind the desk, prepared to cope. But at
that moment the lift came down. A tall figure emerged, and the girl shook
herself free from the policeman’s support, and ran frantically across the
lounge.
“Mother,” she cried. “Oh Mother, Mother…” and threw herself, sobbing,
into Bess Sedgwick’s arms.
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