Chapter 4 – There Must Be Something!

'Poirot,' I said, as soon as we were out upon the road. 'There is one thing I think you ought to know.'

'And what is that, mon ami?'

I told him of Mrs Rice's version of the trouble with the motor.

Tiens! C'est interessant, ca. There is, of course, a type, vain, hysterical, that seeks to make itself interesting by having marvellous escapes from death and which will recount to you surprising histories that never happened! Yes, it is well known, that type there. Such people will even do themselves grave bodily injury to sustain the fiction.'

'You don't think that-'

'That Mademoiselle Nick is of that type? No, indeed. You observed, Hastings, that we had great difficulty in convincing her of her danger. And right to the end she kept up the farce of a half-mocking disbelief. She is of her generation, that little one. All the same, it is interesting-what Madame Rice said. Why should she say it? Why say it even if it were true? It was unnecessary-almost gauche.'

'Yes,' I said. 'That's true. She dragged it into the conversation neck and crop-for no earthly reason that I could see.'

'That is curious. Yes, that is curious. The little facts that are curious, I like to see them appear. They are significant. They point the way.'

'The way-where?'

'You put your finger on the weak spot, my excellent Hastings. Where? Where indeed! Alas, we shall not know till we get there.'

'Tell me, Poirot,' I said. 'Why did you insist on her getting this cousin to stay?'

Poirot stopped and waved an excited forefinger at me.

'Consider,' he cried. 'Consider for one little moment, Hastings. How we are handicapped! How are our hands tied! To hunt down a murderer after a crime has been committed-c'est tout simple! Or at least it is simple to one of my ability. The murderer has, so to speak, signed his name by committing the crime. But here there is no crime-and what is more we do not want a crime. To detect a crime before it has been committed-that is indeed of a rare difficulty.'

'What is our first aim? The safety of Mademoiselle. And that is not easy. No, it is not easy, Hastings. We cannot watch over her day and night-we cannot even send a policeman in big boots to watch over her. We cannot pass the night in a young lady's sleeping chamber. The affair bristles with difficulties.'

'But we can do one thing. We can make it more difficult for our assassin. We can put Mademoiselle upon her guard and we can introduce a perfectly impartial witness. It will take a very clever man to get round those two circumstances.'

He paused, and then said in an entirely different tone of voice: 'But what I am afraid of, Hastings-'

'Yes?'

'What I am afraid of is-that he is a very clever man. And I am not easy in my mind. No, I am not easy at all.'

'Poirot,' I said. 'You're making me feel quite nervous.'

'So am I nervous. Listen, my friend, that paper, the St Loo Weekly Herald. It was open and folded back at-where do you think? A little paragraph which said, "Among the guests staying at the Majestic Hotel are M. Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings." Supposing-just supposing that someone had read that paragraph. They know my name-everyone knows my name-'

'Miss Buckley didn't,' I said, with a grin.

'She is a scatterbrain-she does not count. A serious man-a criminal-would know my name. And he would be afraid! He would wonder! He would ask himself questions. Three times he has attempted the life of Mademoiselle and now Hercule Poirot arrives in the neighbourhood. 'Is that coincidence?' he would ask himself. And he would fear that it might not be coincidence. What would he do then?'

'Lie low and hide his tracks,' I suggested.

'Yes-yes-or else-if he had real audacity, he would strike quickly -without loss of time. Before I had time to make inquiries-pouf, Mademoiselle is dead. That is what a man of audacity would do.'

'But why do you think that somebody read that paragraph other than Miss Buckley?'

'It was not Miss Buckley who read that paragraph. When I mentioned my name it meant nothing to her. It was not even familiar. Her face did not change. Besides she told us-she opened the paper to look at the tides-nothing else. Well, there was no tide table on that page.'

'You think someone in the house-'

'Someone in the house or who has access to it. And that last is easy-the window stands open. Without doubt Miss Buckley's friends pass in and out.'

'Have you any idea? Any suspicion?' Poirot flung out his hands.

'Nothing. Whatever the motive, it is, as I predicted, not an obvious one. That is the would-be murderer's security-that is why he could act so daringly this morning. On the face of it, no one seems to have any reason for desiring the little Nick's death. The property? End House? That passes to the cousin-but does he particularly want a heavily mortgaged and very dilapidated old house? It is not even a family place so far as he is concerned. He is not a Buckley, remember. We must see this Charles Vyse, certainly, but the idea seems fantastic.'

'Then there is Madame-the bosom friend-with her strange eyes and her air of a lost Madonna-'

'You felt that too?' I asked, startled.

'What is her concern in the business? She tells you that her friend is a liar. C'est gentil, ca! Why does she tell you? Is she afraid of something that Nick may say? Is that something connected with the car? Or did she use that as an instance, and was her real fear of something else? Did anyone tamper with the car, and if so, who? And does she know about it?'

'Then the handsome blond, M. Lazarus. Where does he fit in? With his marvellous automobile and his money. Can he possibly be concerned in any way? Commander Challenger-'

'He's all right,' I put in quickly. 'I'm sure of that. A real pukka sahib.'

'Doubtless he has been to what you consider the right school. Happily, being a foreigner, I am free from these prejudices, and can make investigations unhampered by them. But I will admit that I find it hard to connect Commander Challenger with the case. In fact, I do not see that he can be connected.'

'Of course he can't,' I said warmly. Poirot looked at me meditatively.

'You have an extraordinary effect on me, Hastings. You have so strongly the flair in the wrong direction that I am almost tempted to go by it! You are that wholly admirable type of man, honest, credulous, honourable, who is invariably taken in by any scoundrel. You are the type of man who invests in doubtful oil fields, and non-existent gold mines. From hundreds like you, the swindler makes his daily bread. Ah, well-I shall study this Commander Challenger. You have awakened my doubts.'

'My dear Poirot,' I cried, angrily. 'You are perfectly absurd. A man who has knocked about the world like I have-'

'Never learns,' said Poirot, sadly. 'It is amazing-but there it is.'

'Do you suppose I'd have made a success of my ranch out in the Argentine if I were the kind of credulous fool you make out?'

'Do not enrage yourself, mon ami. You have made a great success of it-you and your wife.'

'Bella,' I said, 'always goes by my judgement.'

'She is as wise as she is charming,' said Poirot. 'Let us not quarrel my friend. See, there ahead of us, it says Mott's Garage. That, I think, is the garage mentioned by Mademoiselle Buckley. A few inquiries will soon give us the truth of that little matter.'

We duly entered the place and Poirot introduced himself by explaining that he had been recommended there by Miss Buckley. He made some inquiries about hiring a car for some afternoon drives and from there slid easily into the topic of the damage sustained by Miss Buckley's car not long ago.

Immediately the garage proprietor waxed voluble. Most extraordinary thing he'd ever seen. He proceeded to be technical. I, alas, am not mechanically minded. Poirot, I should imagine, is even less so. But certain facts did emerge unmistakably. The car had been tampered with. And the damage had been something quite easily done, occupying very little time.

'So that is that,' said Poirot, as we strolled away. 'The little Nick was right, and the rich M. Lazarus was wrong. Hastings, my friend, all this is very interesting.'

'What do we do now?'

'We visit the post office and send off a telegram if it is not too late.'

'A telegram?' I said hopefully.

'Yes,' said Poirot thoughtfully. 'A telegram.'

The post office was still open. Poirot wrote out his telegram and despatched it. He vouchsafed me no information as to its contents. Feeling that he wanted me to ask him, I carefully refrained from doing so.

'It is annoying that tomorrow is Sunday,' he remarked, as we strolled back to the hotel. 'We cannot now call upon M. Vyse till Monday morning.'

'You could get hold of him at his private address.'

'Naturally. But that is just what I am anxious not to do. I would prefer, in the first place, to consult him professionally and to form my judgement of him from that aspect.'

'Yes,' I said thoughtfully. 'I suppose that would be best.'

'The answer to one simple little question, for instance, might make a great difference. If M. Charles Vyse was in his office at twelve-thirty this morning, then it was not he who fired that shot in the garden of the Majestic Hotel.'

'Ought we not to examine the alibis of the three at the hotel?'

'That is much more difficult. It would be easy enough for one of them to leave the others for a few minutes, a hasty egress from one of the innumerable windows-lounge, smoking-room, drawing-room, writing-room, quickly under cover to the spot where the girl must pass-the shot fired and a rapid retreat. But as yet, mon ami, we are not even sure that we have arrived at all the dramatis personae in the drama. There is the respectable Ellen-and her so far unseen husband. Both inmates of the house and possibly, for all we know, with a grudge against our little Mademoiselle. There are even the unknown Australians at the lodge. And there may be others, friends and intimates of Miss Buckley's whom she has no reason for suspecting and consequently has not mentioned. I cannot help feeling, Hastings, that there is something behind this-something that has not yet come to light. I have a little idea that Miss Buckley knows more than she told us.'

'You think she is keeping something back?'

'Yes.'

'Possibly with an idea of shielding whoever it is?'

Poirot shook his head with the utmost energy.

'No, no. As far as that goes, she gave me the impression of being utterly frank. I am convinced that as regards these attempts on her life, she was telling all she knew. But there is something else-something that she believes has nothing to do with that at all. And I should like to know what that something is. For I-I say it in all modesty-am a great deal more intelligent thanune petite comme ca . I, Hercule Poirot, might see a connection where she sees none. It might give me the clue I am seeking. For I announce to you, Hastings, quite frankly and humbly, that I am as you express it, all on the sea. Until I can get some glimmering of the reason behind all this, I am in the dark. There must be something -some factor in the case that I do not grasp. What is it? Je me demande ca sans cesse. Qu'est-ce que c'est? '

'You will find out,' I said, soothingly.

'So long,' he said sombrely, 'as I do not find out too late.'

第四章　还有未知数

“波洛，”一到路上我就说：“有件事你应当知道。”

“哪件事？我的朋友？”

我把赖斯太太对那次汽车刹车事故的看法告诉了他。

“哈，真有意思，”波洛听后说，“不错，是有那么一种神经错乱的人，会凭空想出种种死里逃生的离奇故事，还硬要别人相信。不错，大家都知道这样的人是有的。这种人为了证明他那耸人听闻的荒诞经历确有其事，甚至不惜把自己弄得鲜血淋漓。”

“你不觉得……”

“尼克小姐是这种人？不，你自己看到的，黑斯廷斯。为了使她相信她处境之险恶，我们费了多少口舌和力气。一直到最后她还半信半疑地把这件事当成一出滑稽戏。她是这个新时代的产物呀，不过赖斯太太的话倒很有意思，她为什么说这些呢？明明是事实她却说是谎话，而且在那个场合下她并没有必要提起刹车故障这件事，这很不高明。”

“是的，”我说，“我看不出她硬把这件事拉进谈话里来有什么理由。”

“这是件怪事。是呀，怪事。我很愿意看到各种怪事接踵而来。它们很有意义，很能提供线索。”

“线索！什么线索？”

“你要不失时机地抓住疑点，我盖世无双的黑斯廷斯。至于什么线索，现在谁知道呢？”

“告诉我，波洛，”我说，“你为什么坚持要她找个亲戚来同住？”

波洛停了下来，用食指点着我说：

“想一想，”他说，“我们只要稍微想一想，黑斯廷斯。我们有多少障碍，我们受到多少束缚！在罪行发生之后去搜捕凶手，那倒不在话下。至少在我来说是易如反掌的。杀人犯行凶的过程，也就是他签名留姓的过程。但这里并没有发生什么案件——当然，太平无事是再好也没有了。可是要在一个案子发生之前就去侦破它，倒确实如堕烟海，棘手得很呢。

“我们要达到的第一个目标是什么呢？是小姐的人身安全。这不容易，是的，很不容易，黑斯廷斯。我们无法从早到晚盯住她——甚至连派一个全副武装的警察去给她当警卫都办不到。况且我们总不能在一位姑娘的香闺里过夜吧？这件事何其难也！

“不过有一件事我们可以办得到，那就是人为地给凶手作案增添困难。我们可以使小姐警觉起来，并且在她身边安置一个同她形影不离的见证人。要越过这两重防线来行凶，那凶手非得是个精于此道的老手不可。”

他顿了一顿，用一种迥然不同的语气说：

“可是我所担心的，黑斯廷斯——”

“是什么？”

“我所担心的是他恰恰是个老谋深算的行家！这种想法叫我很不安。嗯，我根本无法高枕无忧。”

“波洛，”我说，“听你这么说连我都紧张起来了。”

“我难道不紧张？听我说，我的朋友。那份报纸，就是刚才那份《圣卢周报》被打开看过。你猜它被翻开在哪一页上？是这么一页，那页上有一则短讯，说‘在美琪旅馆小憩的旅客中有赫尔克里·波洛先生和黑斯廷斯上尉。’假设——让我们来假设一下有人看过这则消息，他们知道我的名字——人人都熟悉我的名字……”

“巴克利小姐并不知道。”我笑着说。

“她是个浅薄的小鬼——不算。一个严肃的人，一个罪犯，就一定知道我的名字，并会为之浑身发抖！他会忧心忡忡地问自己一大堆疑神疑鬼的问题。他曾经四次企图夺走小姐的性命，而如今一切罪犯的克星赫尔克里·波洛来到了近旁。他会问他自己：‘这是巧合吗？’一想到可能并非巧合，他便会恐惧了。接下去他会怎么办呢？”

“藏匿起他的杀机，销声匿迹。”我提出这种设想。

“对，对——但如果他真的胆大包天，就会立即下手，不再浪费时间。在我还没来得及调查清楚之前——砰！小姐死了。这种事情，一个心狠手毒的人是干得出来的。”

“你为什么认为不是巴克利小姐而是别人看了那则消息呢？”

“注意到那则短讯的不是巴克利小姐。当我说出我的姓名时她一点反应都没有。甚至一点印象都没有，脸上毫无表情。再说她告诉我们说她打开报纸只不过想看看潮讯而已，可是那一页上并没有潮汐时刻表啊。”

“你怀疑是那所房子里的人？”

“那所房子里的，或者接近那所房子的人。因为对后者来说，到客厅里去翻看报纸并非是什么难事——那扇落地大玻璃窗一直开着。巴克利小姐的那些朋友们无疑时常通过那扇窗门进进出出的。”

“你形成什么想法没有？可有什么疑点吗？”

波洛摊开双手，说：

“没有。跟我早先预见的一样，动机不明。这正是那个未遂凶手不被发现的保证。这也说明了今天上午他为什么敢于如此大胆地行动。从表面上看，谁都没有理由盼望小尼克死亡。她的财产？悬崖山庄？房子在尼克死后将传给她表哥，但是难道他竟这样迫不及待地想得到这所已经高价抵押出去的破败古老的老房子？他甚至不会愿意在这所房子里安家。须知他不姓巴克利，对这所故居并没有什么感情。我们得去见见这位查尔斯·维斯。

“接下去是那位太太——尼克的知心朋友，那位有一双神思恍惚的眼睛和圣母般冷漠神情的女人——”

“你也有这种感觉？”我有点奇怪。

“她跟这件事有没有关系呢？她对你说她的朋友是个喜欢撒谎的人（真是妙不可言）。为什么她要这么对你讲呢？是否担心尼克会说出什么对她不利的话来？她跟汽车事故有关系吗？还是她只是以汽车的事做个例子来暗示另外某件事也纯属虚构，而那件事恰恰是她害怕被查究的？是否有人破坏过那辆汽车的刹车装置？如果有的话，她是否知情？

“再就是那位派头十足的美少年拉扎勒斯先生。他有什么可疑之处呢？他有那么华美不凡的汽车和那么多的钱，跟这个案子会有什么样的牵连呢？查林杰中校——”

“他没有什么嫌疑，”我赶忙说，“这点我可以肯定。他是个地地道道的男子汉大丈夫。”

“这大概只是因为他曾经在你认为是高尚的名牌学校里受过教育。幸而我是个外国人，不受这种偏见的束缚，从而能够比较客观地进行调查。但我也承认，很难发现查林杰中校与这些事情有什么关系。事实上，我现在还看不出他有什么嫌疑。”

“他当然不会有什么嫌疑的。”我激动地说。

波洛沉思地看着我。

“你对我的影响真是大得不可估量，黑斯廷斯。你有一种专门把事情搞错的本能，连我也常常差点看错。你是一个完完全全值得崇敬的人：忠诚老实，轻信不疑，嫉恶如仇，重视荣誉，一门心思地往无赖恶棍设下的圈套里钻。你是这样一种优秀人物，他们在把钱投资到十分可疑的油田里或是根本不存在的金矿中之前从来不会三思而行。而那些骗局也就因为有成百上千像你这样的人，才得以维持不败。啊，这样看来，我得把那个查林杰中校好好研究一番才是，你唤醒了我的疑心病。”

“我亲爱的波洛，”我不禁怒形于色地喊了起来，“你简直荒谬绝伦！像我这样一个跑遍全世界的人——”

“是啊，从不汲取教训。”波洛悻然地说，“这虽然奇怪，却正是事实。”

“要是我真像你刚才说的那样是个傻瓜，我怎么会在阿根廷成功呢？”

“别发火，我的朋友。你在阿根廷的确搞出了一点名堂——你和你妻子。”

“贝拉总是根据我的判断行事的。”

“她的聪明跟她的芳容一样出色，”波洛说，“我们别争了，朋友，看，前面就是巴克利小姐说起过的莫特先生的车行。只要进去问几个问题，汽车是失修还是被破坏的便可以立见分晓。”

我们走了进去。波洛说是巴克利小姐介绍他来的。问了几个有关租用汽车的问题之后，波洛很自然地把话题转到不久前巴克利小姐的汽车损坏的事情上。车行老板高声说，那是他见过的最特别的故障。我不懂机械，我猜波洛比我更不懂。所以车行老板的那一席充满学术味的解释像是对牛弹琴。不过事实和结论已经足够明白无误了：汽车被人摆弄过，破坏的方式十分简便，用不了几分钟。

“瞧，是这样。”我们走出车行时波洛说，“小尼克没有说谎。黑斯廷斯，我的朋友，这一切真是饶有兴味。”

“现在我们做什么呢？”

“如果不太迟的话，我们到邮局去发个电报。”

“电报？”我满怀希望地看看他的脸。

“不错，”波洛说，“电报。”

邮局还没关门。波洛拟好电稿发了出去，他没有告诉我电报内容。他又在摆架子了，要我主动去问他，可我偏偏不问。

“不巧明天是星期天，”当我们踱回旅馆去的时候，波洛说，“在星期一早晨之前我们无法去拜访维斯先生了。”

“你可以上他家去呀。”

“这个自然。但我想避免这么做。我宁愿上他办公室去通过对一些法律问题的商讨来形成对他的印象。”

“对，”我想了想说，“我觉得这个办法好。”

“有一个问题很简单，但是很有参考价值。如果今天中午十二点半查尔斯·维斯在他办公室里，那么在向尼克开枪这点上，他就可以排除嫌疑了。”

“我们是否应当把旅馆里那三个人的嫌疑也一个个用排除法过滤一下呢？”

“那要难得多，他们当中任何一个都可以从休息室、吸烟室、客厅或者写字间的玻璃门跑出去，一眨眼就来到了姑娘的必经之路上，开了枪又立刻跑回来。不过我的朋友，这出戏的主角也许还在我们视野之外或者我们没有加以注意。比方说那位可敬的埃伦，还有她那位我们还未见过的丈夫。他们同尼克一起住在那所房子里，会不会暗中怀恨尼克而我们不知道？还有那些住在门房小屋里我们并不认识的澳大利亚人怎么样呢？当然还有其他人，像尼克的什么亲戚朋友等等。尼克自以为他们完全可信，所以没有对我们提起。我总觉得，黑斯廷斯，在这一切背后一定还有某种至今未被了解的至关紧要的线索。我有一种想法，觉得巴克利小姐所知道的比她告诉了我们的要多。”

“你认为她隐瞒了什么？”

“是的。”

“或许她想保护什么人？”

波洛大摇其头。

“不，不。她给我的印象是坦率直爽的。我相信，在谋害她的这些情节上，她把所知道的全告诉了我们。但还有别的——一些她自己认为跟案子不相关的事却没讲。我恰恰就想知道这些貌似无关的事情。因为，我——我尽可能说得谦虚些——要比那个黄毛丫头远为高明。我，赫尔克里·波洛，能在她视而不见之处明察秋毫地看出关键所在，我会从中得到线索。可是现在我极其坦率而谦卑地告诉你，黑斯廷斯，我实在连一点头绪都没有。在我能够找到一线光明之前，一切都藏在夜幕之中，什么也看不见。嗯！一定还有未知数——一些我还不知道的、同此案紧密相关的事实。到底是什么呢？我要查下去，一定要查出我所不知道的究竟是什么。”

“你会成功的。”我给他鼓劲。

“但愿不会为时太晚。”他阴郁地说。