Chapter 31  MR AARONS LUNCHES 

"Ah!" said Mr Joseph Aarons appreciatively. 

He took a long draught from his tankard, set it down with a sigh, wiped the froth from his lips, and beamed across the table at his host, Monsieur Hercule Poirot. 

"Give me," said Mr Aarons, "a good Porterhouse steak and a tankard of something worth drinking, and anyone can have your French fallals and whatnots, your ordoovres and your omelettes and your little bits of quail. Give me," he reiterated, "a Porterhouse steak." 

Poirot, who had just complied with this request, smiled sympathetically. 

"Not that there is much wrong with a steak and kidney pudding," continued Mr Aarons. "Apple tart? Yes, I will take apple tart, thank you, Miss, and a jug of cream." 

The meal proceeded. Finally, with a long sigh, Mr Aarons laid down his spoon and fork preparatory to toying with some cheese before turning his mind to other matters. 

"There was a little matter of business I think you said, Monsieur Poirot," he remarked. "Anything I can do to help you I am sure I shall be most happy." 

"That is very kind of you," said Poirot. "I said to myself, 'If you want to know anything about the dramatic profession there is one person who knows all that is to be known and that is my old friend, Mr Joseph Aarons.'" 

"And you don't say far wrong," said Mr Aarons complacently, 

"whether it is past, present, or future, Joe Aarons is the man to come to." 

"Précisément. Now I want to ask you, Monsieur Aarons, what you know about a young woman called Kidd." 

"Kidd? Kitty Kidd?" 

"Kitty Kidd." 

"Pretty smart, she was. Male impersonator, song and a dance - That one?" 

"That is the one." 

"Very smart, she was. Made a good income. Never out of an engagement. Male impersonation mostly, but, as a matter of fact, you could not touch her as a character actress." 

"So I have heard," said Poirot, "but she has not been appearing lately, has she?" 

"No. Dropped right out of things. Went over to France and took up with some swell nobleman there. She quitted the stage then for good and all, I guess." 

"How long ago was that?" 

"Let me see. Three years ago. And she has been a loss - let me tell you that." 

"She was clever?" 

"Clever as a cartload of monkeys." 

"You don't know the name of the man she became friends with in Paris?" 

"He was a swell, I know that. A Count - or was it a Marquis? Now I come to think of it, I believe it was a Marquis." 

"And you know nothing about her since?" 

"Nothing. Never even run across her accidentally like. I bet she is tooling it round some of these foreign resorts. Being a Marquise to the life. You couldn't put one over on Kitty. She would give as good as she got any day." 

"I see," said Poirot thoughtfully. 

"I am sorry I can't tell you more, Monsieur Poirot," said the other. 

"I would like to be of use to you if I could. You did me a good turn once." 

"Ah, but we are quits on that; you, too, did me a good turn." 

"One good turn deserves another. Ha, ha!" said Mr Aarons. 

"Your profession must be a very interesting one," said Poirot. 

"So-so," said Mr Aarons noncommittally. "Taking the rough with the smooth, it is all right. I don't do so badly at it, all things considered, but you have to keep your eyes skinned. Never know 

what the public will jump for next." 

"Dancing has come very much to the fore in the last few years," murmured Poirot reflectively. 

"I never saw anything in this Russian ballet, but people like it. Too highbrow for me." 

"I met one dancer out on the Riviera - Mademoiselle Mirelle." 

"Mirelle? She is hot stuff, by all accounts. There is always money going to back her - though, so far as that goes, the girl can dance; I have seen her, and I know what I am talking about. I never had much to do with her myself, but I hear she is a terror to deal with. Tempers and tantrums all the time." 

"Yes," said Poirot thoughtfully, "yes, so I should imagine." 

"Temperament!" said Mr Aarons, "temperament! That is what they call it themselves. My missus was a dancer before she married me, but I am thankful to say she never had any temperament. You don't want temperament in the home, Monsieur Poirot." 

"I agree with you, my friend; it is out of place there." 

"A woman should be calm and sympathetic, and a good cook," said Mr Aarons. 

"Mirelle has not been long before the public, has she?" asked Poirot. 

"About two and a half years, that is all," said Mr Aarons. "Some French Duke started her. I hear now that she has taken up with the ex-Prime Minister of Greece. These are the chaps who manage to put money away quietly." 

"That is news to me," said Poirot. 

"Oh, she's not one to let the grass grow under her feet. They say that young Kettering murdered his wife on her account. I don't know, I am sure. Anyway, he is in prison, and she had to look round for herself, and pretty smart she has been about it. They say she is wearing a ruby the size of a pigeon's egg - not that I have ever seen a pigeon's egg myself, but that is what they always call it in works of fiction." 

"A ruby the size of a pigeon's egg!" said Poirot. His eyes were green and catlike. "How interesting!" 

"I had it from a friend of mine," said Mr Aarons. "But, for all I know, it may be coloured glass. They are all the same, these women - they never stop telling tall stories about their jewels. Mirelle goes about bragging that it has got a curse on it. 'Heart of Fire,' I think she calls it." 

"But if I remember rightly," said Poirot, "the ruby that is named 

'Heart of Fire' is the centre stone in a necklace." 

"There you are! Didn't I tell you there is no end to the lies women will tell about their jewellery? This is a single stone, hung on a platinum chain round her neck; but, as I said before, ten to one it is a bit of coloured glass." 

"No," said Poirot gently, "no - somehow I do not think it is coloured glass." 

第三十一章 女演员和舞女

    “味道真好。”约瑟夫·阿伦斯先生用舌头品尝着。

    他又大喝了一口，放下杯子喘了一口气，舐了一下嘴唇上的沫子，满意地看着他的主人赫库勒·波洛。

    “对我来说，最好不过是一块上等的烤牛排和一杯好啤酒。您那冷盘以及其它一些乱七八糟的东西就别想引起我的胃口。当然，我还要点苹果酱。”

    阿伦斯一连要了两次苹果酱。当他象一个行家一样吃奶酷的时候，就把话题从食品转到要紧的事上来。

    “您不是要同我谈谈您那小小的案件吗？亲爱的波洛。若是我能以任何一种方式帮助您，那将非常高兴。”

    “您太好了，”波洛说道。“我经常同自己说：如果您想了解戏剧方面的事，那您就直接去找老朋友阿伦斯。”

    “您说对了。”阿伦斯受宠若惊地说。“无论是什么时候的事，过去、现在或将来，我都知道的一清二楚。”

    “那我知道。我现在要问您的是：您是否知道一位名叫基德的年轻女士？”

    “基德？吉蒂·基德？”

    “对，吉蒂·基德。”

    “我当然认识她。又会唱又会跳，经常穿上大礼服扮演男青年，是她吗？”

    “对，我指的就是她。”

    “是一个很能干的人。挣的钱也很多。她一直同剧院订合同。在女扮男装的角色中，她比较有名。但她最拿手的还是在话剧中扮演很有特色的角色。”

    “有人对我说过。”波洛说。“最近一个时期她好象没有露面。”

    “没有。从舞台上消失了。同一位很有钱的贵族去法国了。我不相信她还会再登台演出。”

    “她是什么时候离开舞台的？”

    “请您让我想一下。噢，大概是在三年以前。”

    “她那个男朋友叫什么？您知道吗？”

    “他是个很高贵的人。一位伯爵或是……等一下，对，是一位侯爵。”

    “从那以后您再也没有听到过她的消息？”

    “毫无消息。可能在一些有名的疗养胜地鬼混。她一定成了侯爵夫人。如果这样的话，别的侯爵夫人都得退避三舍。”

    “懂了，”波洛深思地说道。

    “很遗憾，我没有更多的话要说了，波洛先生。我时刻准备为您效劳。有一次您给我帮了很大的忙。”

    “不要再提那事了。”波洛很不好意思地说。“您的职业一定很有意思。”

    “还可以。有时候好一些，有时候坏一些。如果想维持下去，那就得格外留心。谁知道观众明天又喜欢看什么呢？”

    “目前，只要是同舞蹈有关的节目都很时髦。”波洛说道。

    “是的。如今舞蹈产品可真能挣钱。”

    “我在利维埃拉认识了一个舞女——米蕾。”

    “米蕾？宝贝。无论对她的崇拜者或是对她的经理来说，她可真都是个宝贝。她会跳舞，什么都行。我个人同她从未打过交道。但我的同行怕她怕得要死。每隔两天她就给她的经理一个耳光。”

    “对，就是我说的那个。”波洛说道。

    “有禀性。”阿伦斯先生喊道，“人们都说这种女人有性格。我的老伴同我结婚的时候也是个舞女，但是她没有性格，谢天谢地。在咱老家，有性格也没有什么用。”

    “完全同意您的见解，阿伦斯朋友。”

    “准备结婚的女人应该是脾气好、温情脉脉，首先应该会烹调。”阿伦斯先生说道。

    “米蕾登上舞台才不久？”

    “最多才两年多，是一位法国公爵使她崭露头角。现在她正同希腊的一位前总理来往。您是知道的，这些先生在银行里总还有点存款。”

    “同希腊的总理打交道……噢，这对我来说还是条新闻。”波洛低头深思地说道。

    “这就是说，年轻的凯特林先生为她而杀死了自己的妻子。我当然不知内情，反正他现在坐在班房里。那么她呢？就找个替身了。看来她很成功。有人说，她身上带着一颗宝石，就象鸽子蛋那么大。我没见过鸽子蛋到底有多大，可是人们在小说里总是这么写的。”

    “象鸽子蛋一样大的宝石？”波洛自问道。他的眼睛又象猫眼一样闪烁着绿光。

    “多有意思。”

    “我是从一位朋友那里听到的。”阿伦斯先生说道。“很可能是一个涂了色的玻璃球。女人嘛，反正都一样，她们在宝石方面都是些外行。米蕾逢人便说，那颗宝石有个名，叫什么‘火心宝石’。”

    “据我所知。”波洛说，“那块所谓‘火心宝石’只是一条项链的中间那块。”

    “您看怎样，一定是谣传，米蕾的那块，是用白金项链吊着的单个宝石。我看十有八九是一块上了色的玻璃球。”

    “我不这样认为。”波洛温和地反驳道。“不，我并不认为那是一块上了色的玻璃球。”