I had arrived at Styles on the 5th of July. I come now to the events of the 16th and 17th of that month. For the convenience of the reader I will recapitulate the incidents of those days in as exact a manner as possible. They were elicited subsequently at the trial by a process of long and tedious cross-examinations.

I received a letter from Evelyn Howard a couple of days after her departure, telling me she was working as a nurse at the big hospital in Middlingham, a manufacturing town some fifteen miles away, and begging me to let her know if Mrs. Inglethorp should show any wish to be reconciled.

The only fly in the ointment of my peaceful days was Mrs. Cavendish's extraordinary, and, for my part, unaccountable preference for the society of Dr. Bauerstein. What she saw in the man I cannot imagine, but she was always asking him up to the house, and often went off for long expeditions with him. I must confess that I was quite unable to see his attraction.

The 16th of July fell on a Monday. It was a day of turmoil. The famous bazaar had taken place on Saturday, and an entertainment, in connection with the same charity, at which Mrs. Inglethorp was to recite a War poem, was to be held that night. We were all busy during the morning arranging and decorating the Hall in the village where it was to take place. We had a late luncheon and spent the afternoon resting in the garden. I noticed that John's manner was somewhat unusual. He seemed very excited and restless.

After tea, Mrs. Inglethorp went to lie down to rest before her efforts in the evening and I challenged Mary Cavendish to a single at tennis.

About a quarter to seven, Mrs. Inglethorp called us that we should be late as supper was early that night. We had rather a scramble to get ready in time; and before the meal was over the motor was waiting at the door.

The entertainment was a great success, Mrs. Inglethorp's recitation receiving tremendous applause. There were also some tableaux in which Cynthia took part. She did not return with us, having been asked to a supper party, and to remain the night with some friends who had been acting with her in the tableaux.

The following morning, Mrs. Inglethorp stayed in bed to breakfast, as she was rather overtired; but she appeared in her briskest mood about 12.30, and swept Lawrence and myself off to a luncheon party.

"Such a charming invitation from Mrs. Rolleston. Lady Tadminster's sister, you know. The Rollestons came over with the Conqueror--one of our oldest families."

Mary had excused herself on the plea of an engagement with Dr. Bauerstein.

We had a pleasant luncheon, and as we drove away Lawrence suggested that we should return by Tadminster, which was barely a mile out of our way, and pay a visit to Cynthia in her dispensary. Mrs. Inglethorp replied that this was an excellent idea, but as she had several letters to write she would drop us there, and we could come back with Cynthia in the pony-trap.

We were detained under suspicion by the hospital porter, until Cynthia appeared to vouch for us, looking very cool and sweet in her long white overall. She took us up to her sanctum, and introduced us to her fellow dispenser, a rather awe-inspiring individual, whom Cynthia cheerily addressed as "Nibs."

"What a lot of bottles!" I exclaimed, as my eye travelled round the small room. "Do you really know what's in them all?"

"Say something original," groaned Cynthia. "Every single person who comes up here says that. We are really thinking of bestowing a prize on the first individual who does _not_ say: 'What a lot of bottles!' And I know the next thing you're going to say is: 'How many people have you poisoned?' "

I pleaded guilty with a laugh.

"If you people only knew how fatally easy it is to poison some one by mistake, you wouldn't joke about it. Come on, let's have tea. We've got all sorts of secret stories in that cupboard. No, Lawrence--that's the poison cupboard. The big cupboard--that's right."

We had a very cheery tea, and assisted Cynthia to wash up afterwards. We had just put away the last tea-spoon when a knock came at the door. The countenances of Cynthia and Nibs were suddenly petrified into a stern and forbidding expression.

"Come in," said Cynthia, in a sharp professional tone.

A young and rather scared looking nurse appeared with a bottle which she proffered to Nibs, who waved her towards Cynthia with the somewhat enigmatical remark:

"_I_'m not really here to-day."

Cynthia took the bottle and examined it with the severity of a judge.

"This should have been sent up this morning."

"Sister is very sorry. She forgot."

"Sister should read the rules outside the door."

I gathered from the little nurse's expression that there was not the least likelihood of her having the hardihood to retail this message to the dreaded "Sister".

"So now it can't be done until to-morrow," finished Cynthia.

"Don't you think you could possibly let us have it to-night?"

"Well," said Cynthia graciously, "we are very busy, but if we have time it shall be done."

The little nurse withdrew, and Cynthia promptly took a jar from the shelf, refilled the bottle, and placed it on the table outside the door.

I laughed.

"Discipline must be maintained?"

"Exactly. Come out on our little balcony. You can see all the outside wards there."

I followed Cynthia and her friend and they pointed out the different wards to me. Lawrence remained behind, but after a few moments Cynthia called to him over her shoulder to come and join us. Then she looked at her watch.

"Nothing more to do, Nibs?"

"No."

"All right. Then we can lock up and go."

I had seen Lawrence in quite a different light that afternoon. Compared to John, he was an astoundingly difficult person to get to know. He was the opposite of his brother in almost every respect, being unusually shy and reserved. Yet he had a certain charm of manner, and I fancied that, if one really knew him well, one could have a deep affection for him. I had always fancied that his manner to Cynthia was rather constrained, and that she on her side was inclined to be shy of him. But they were both gay enough this afternoon, and chatted together like a couple of children.

As we drove through the village, I remembered that I wanted some stamps, so accordingly we pulled up at the post office.

As I came out again, I cannoned into a little man who was just entering. I drew aside and apologised, when suddenly, with a loud exclamation, he clasped me in his arms and kissed me warmly.

"Mon ami Hastings!" he cried. "It is indeed mon ami Hastings!"

"Poirot!" I exclaimed.

I turned to the pony-trap.

"This is a very pleasant meeting for me, Miss Cynthia. This is my old friend, Monsieur Poirot, whom I have not seen for years."

"Oh, we know Monsieur Poirot," said Cynthia gaily. "But I had no idea he was a friend of yours."

"Yes, indeed," said Poirot seriously. "I know Mademoiselle Cynthia. It is by the charity of that good Mrs. Inglethorp that I am here." Then, as I looked at him inquiringly: "Yes, my friend, she had kindly extended hospitality to seven of my countrypeople who, alas, are refugees from their native land. We Belgians will always remember her with gratitude."

Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible. I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandyfied little man who, I was sorry to see, now limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.

He pointed out to me the little house inhabited by him and his fellow Belgians, and I promised to go and see him at an early date. Then he raised his hat with a flourish to Cynthia, and we drove away.

"He's a dear little man," said Cynthia. "I'd no idea you knew him."

"You've been entertaining a celebrity unawares," I replied.

And, for the rest of the way home, I recited to them the various exploits and triumphs of Hercule Poirot.

We arrived back in a very cheerful mood. As we entered the hall, Mrs. Inglethorp came out of her boudoir. She looked flushed and upset.

"Oh, it's you," she said.

"Is there anything the matter, Aunt Emily?" asked Cynthia.

"Certainly not," said Mrs. Inglethorp sharply. "What should there be?" Then catching sight of Dorcas, the parlourmaid, going into the dining-room, she called to her to bring some stamps into the boudoir.

"Yes, m'm." The old servant hesitated, then added diffidently: "Don't you think, m'm, you'd better get to bed? You're looking very tired."

"Perhaps you're right, Dorcas--yes--no--not now. I've some letters I must finish by post-time. Have you lighted the fire in my room as I told you?"

"Yes, m'm."

"Then I'll go to bed directly after supper."

She went into the boudoir again, and Cynthia stared after her.

"Goodness gracious! I wonder what's up?" she said to Lawrence.

He did not seem to have heard her, for without a word he turned on his heel and went out of the house.

I suggested a quick game of tennis before supper and, Cynthia agreeing, I ran upstairs to fetch my racquet.

Mrs. Cavendish was coming down the stairs. It may have been my fancy, but she, too, was looking odd and disturbed.

"Had a good walk with Dr. Bauerstein?" I asked, trying to appear as indifferent as I could.

"I didn't go," she replied abruptly. "Where is Mrs. Inglethorp?"

"In the boudoir."

Her hand clenched itself on the banisters, then she seemed to nerve herself for some encounter, and went rapidly past me down the stairs across the hall to the boudoir, the door of which she shut behind her.

As I ran out to the tennis court a few moments later, I had to pass the open boudoir window, and was unable to help overhearing the following scrap of dialogue. Mary Cavendish was saying in the voice of a woman desperately controlling herself:

"Then you won't show it to me?"

To which Mrs. Inglethorp replied:

"My dear Mary, it has nothing to do with that matter."

"Then show it to me."

"I tell you it is not what you imagine. It does not concern you in the least."

To which Mary Cavendish replied, with a rising bitterness:

"Of course, I might have known you would shield him."

Cynthia was waiting for me, and greeted me eagerly with:

"I say! There's been the most awful row! I've got it all out of Dorcas."

"What kind of a row?"

"Between Aunt Emily and _him_. I do hope she's found him out at last!"

"Was Dorcas there, then?"

"Of course not. She 'happened to be near the door'. It was a real old bust-up. I do wish I knew what it was all about."

I thought of Mrs. Raikes's gipsy face, and Evelyn Howard's warnings, but wisely decided to hold my peace, whilst Cynthia exhausted every possible hypothesis, and cheerfully hoped, "Aunt Emily will send him away, and will never speak to him again."

I was anxious to get hold of John, but he was nowhere to be seen. Evidently something very momentous had occurred that afternoon. I tried to forget the few words I had overheard; but, do what I would, I could not dismiss them altogether from my mind. What was Mary Cavendish's concern in the matter?

Mr. Inglethorp was in the drawing-room when I came down to supper. His face was impassive as ever, and the strange unreality of the man struck me afresh.

Mrs. Inglethorp came down last. She still looked agitated, and during the meal there was a somewhat constrained silence. Inglethorp was unusually quiet. As a rule, he surrounded his wife with little attentions, placing a cushion at her back, and altogether playing the part of the devoted husband. Immediately after supper, Mrs. Inglethorp retired to her boudoir again.

"Send my coffee in here, Mary," she called. "I've just five minutes to catch the post."

Cynthia and I went and sat by the open window in the drawing-room. Mary Cavendish brought our coffee to us. She seemed excited.

"Do you young people want lights, or do you enjoy the twilight?" she asked. "Will you take Mrs. Inglethorp her coffee, Cynthia? I will pour it out."

"Do not trouble, Mary," said Inglethorp. "I will take it to Emily." He poured it out, and went out of the room carrying it carefully.

Lawrence followed him, and Mrs. Cavendish sat down by us.

We three sat for some time in silence. It was a glorious night, hot and still. Mrs. Cavendish fanned herself gently with a palm leaf.

"It's almost too hot," she murmured. "We shall have a thunderstorm."

Alas, that these harmonious moments can never endure! My paradise was rudely shattered by the sound of a well known, and heartily disliked, voice in the hall.

"Dr. Bauerstein!" exclaimed Cynthia. "What a funny time to come."

I glanced jealously at Mary Cavendish, but she seemed quite undisturbed, the delicate pallor of her cheeks did not vary.

In a few moments, Alfred Inglethorp had ushered the doctor in, the latter laughing, and protesting that he was in no fit state for a drawing-room. In truth, he presented a sorry spectacle, being literally plastered with mud.

"What have you been doing, doctor?" cried Mrs. Cavendish.

"I must make my apologies," said the doctor. "I did not really mean to come in, but Mr. Inglethorp insisted."

"Well, Bauerstein, you are in a plight," said John, strolling in from the hall. "Have some coffee, and tell us what you have been up to."

"Thank you, I will." He laughed rather ruefully, as he described how he had discovered a very rare species of fern in an inaccessible place, and in his efforts to obtain it had lost his footing, and slipped ignominiously into a neighbouring pond.

"The sun soon dried me off," he added, "but I'm afraid my appearance is very disreputable."

At this juncture, Mrs. Inglethorp called to Cynthia from the hall, and the girl ran out.

"Just carry up my despatch-case, will you, dear? I'm going to bed."

The door into the hall was a wide one. I had risen when Cynthia did, John was close by me. There were therefore three witnesses who could swear that Mrs. Inglethorp was carrying her coffee, as yet untasted, in her hand.

My evening was utterly and entirely spoilt by the presence of Dr. Bauerstein. It seemed to me the man would never go. He rose at last, however, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll walk down to the village with you," said Mr. Inglethorp. "I must see our agent over those estate accounts." He turned to John. "No one need sit up. I will take the latch-key."

我是七月五日到达斯泰尔斯的。现在我要说的是那个月十六日和十七日的事。为了让读者方便，我将尽可能精确无误地把这几天来的事情扼要地重述一下。这些事情后来经过一系列冗长乏味的盘问才审讯清楚。

伊夫琳·霍华德走后两三天，我收到了她的一封信，信上告诉我，她已在米德林海姆的一家大医院里做护士，该地离这儿有十五、六英里，是个工业小城。她恳求我，要是英格里桑太太表示出有同她和好的愿望的话，就让她知道。

在我的宁静的日子里，唯一的美中不足是卡文迪什太太在和鲍斯坦医生的交往中那种特殊的、对我来说是不可理解的偏爱。她到底着中此人的哪一点，我没法想象，可是她老是邀请他到家里来，经常和他一块儿出去作长时间的旅游。我必须承认，我实在看不出他的吸引力究竟在哪里。

七月十六日是星期一，这一天整天乱糟糟的。一次著名的义卖已在上一个星期六开幕。这天晚上要举行一次和同一赈济有关的文娱晚会，英格里桑太太要在会上朗诵一首战争诗。上于我们大伙都忙着整理和布置开晚会的村子礼堂。中饭吃得很迟，下午就在花园里休息。我发觉约翰的神态有点异常。他好象十分焦躁不安。

喝好茶，英格里桑太大会躺下休息了，晚上她还得努力一番。而我则向玛丽·卡文迪什挑战，要和她作一次网球单打比赛。

六点三刻左右，英格里桑太太叫唤我们，说是我们要迟到了，因为这天的晚饭要提早。为了能及时准备好，我们只好草草收兵。晚饭还没吃完，汽车已经等在门口了。

晚会开得很成功。英格里桑太大的朗诵博得了一片热烈的掌声。还表演了一些舞台造型，辛西娅也在其中扮演了角色。她没有和我们一起回家，应邀参加一个晚餐会去了，这大晚上，她和那些和她一起演出的朋友在一起。

第二天早上，英格里桑太太是在床上吃的早饭，她有点疲劳过度了，但是，十二点半左右，她精神抖擞地出现了，硬要带劳伦斯和我也一起去参加一次午餐会。

“你知道，这是罗雷斯顿太太的盛情邀请，她就是塔明斯特夫人的妹妹。罗雷斯顿家和征服者①一起来到这儿，是我国最古老的家族之一。”

玛丽托词和鲍斯但有约在先，为自己不能同往表示了歉意。

我们吃了一顿非常适意的中饭，而当我们驱车离开时，劳伦斯提议，我们应该经由塔明斯特回来，那儿只离我们走的公路一英里，到辛西娅的药房去看看她。英格里桑太太回答说这是个好主意，可是由于她有几封信要写，她得把我们丢在那儿，我们可以和辛西娅一起乘轻便马车回来。

我们由于受到怀疑，一直被医院的看门人阻留着，直到辛西娅出来为我们证明才让进去。她穿着件白色的长外套，看上去既沉静又温柔。她带我们来到她的工作室，把我们介绍给和她一起的那位药剂师，一个有点使人害怕的人，辛西娅轻松地把他叫做“尼布斯”。

“瓶子真多！”当我的眼睛朝这个小小的房间巡视了一圈后，我惊呼说。“你真的都知道所有的瓶子里是什么吗？”

“说起来真怪，”辛西娅叹了口气说。“每个到这儿来的人都这么说。我们真想给第一个不讲‘瓶子真多’的人发笔奖金，我知道，你接下去打算问的一句话就是：‘你毒死多少人了呀？’”

我微笑着，感到很内疚。

“要是你们知道错毒死一个人是多么容易，你就不会说这样的笑话了。得啦！我们喝茶吧。那只橱里的各种内情真相我们都已掌握了。不，劳伦斯——那是毒药橱，是那只大橱子——对了。”

我们高高兴兴地喝了茶。后来还帮辛西娅洗了茶具。正当我们放好最后一只茶匙时，门外传来了一阵敲门声。

辛西娅和尼布斯突然板起了脸孔，露出了严肃的神情。

“进来，”辛西娅说，带着一种明显的职业性的语气。

一个显得有点惊慌模样的年轻护士，拿着一只瓶子出现了，她把瓶子递给了尼布斯，他示意她交给辛西娅，还说了句有点莫明其妙的话：

“今天我不是真正在这儿。”

辛西娅接过瓶子，象个法官一样严格地把它检查了一番。

“这应该是今天上午来领的。”

“护士长说很对不起。她忘了。”

“护士长应该来读读门外的规定。”

我从小护士的神色上猜出，她是不可能有这种胆量把这一口信带给那位使人害伯的“修女”的。

“这可得到明天才能领了。”

“你看今天晚上是不是有可能给我们？”

“好吧，”辛西娅宽厚地说。“我们很忙，不过，如果有时间的话，我们就装一装。”

小护士退出去了，辛西娅敏捷地从架子上取下一只大瓶，把那只瓶子灌满，然后把它放到门外的桌子上。

我笑了起来。

“纪律必须维持？”

“一点不错，到我们的小阳台上去吧。那儿外面的全部病房都能看到。”

我跟着辛西娅和她的朋友走到阳台上，他们指给我看各个不同的病房。劳伦斯仍留在房里。可是过了一会，辛西妞扭头叫了他一声，要他出来和我们一起来看。后来，她看了看表。

“没什么事情了吧，尼布斯？”

“没有了。”

“好吧。那我们可以锁门走了。”

那天下午，我对劳伦斯有了完全不同的看法。虽然和约翰相比，他是个使人吃惊地难以了解的人，几乎在每个方面部不同于他的哥哥，十分胆小，沉默寡言，可是，他还是有某些讨人喜欢的举止态度，因而我相信，要是一个人真正对他有很好的了解，是一定会深深地喜欢他的。我原来一直认为他对待辛西娅的态度相当不自然，她对他也羞答答。可是那天下午，他们俩都很快活，他们在一起谈得很起劲，仿佛象一对孩子。

当我们乘马车穿过林子时，我想起我要买几张邮票，于是我们就在邮局门口停了下来。

在我走出邮局时，我和一个正在进来的小个子男人撞了一个满怀。我急忙退到一边：向他道了歉，可那人突然大声惊叫了起来，把我紧紧地拥抱住，热情地吻我。

“亲爱的哈斯丁！”他喊道。“真的是亲爱的哈斯丁！”

“波洛！”我也喊了起来。

我们回到马车旁边。

“这是我一次非常愉快的会见，辛西娅小姐。这位是我的老朋友波洛先生，我已经有好几年没有见到他了。”

“噢，我们认识波洛先生，”辛西娅快活地说。“可是我没有想到他也是你的朋友。”

“不错，真的，”波洛一本正经地说。“我认识辛西娅小姐，我得以到这儿来是全仗好心的英格里桑太太的恩赐。”见我好奇地打量着他，他接着说：“是的，我的朋友，她友好地殷勤接待了我们七个同胞，唉，我们这几个都是从自己的祖国逃亡出来的人啊。我们比利时人将永远怀着感激的心情把她铭记在心里。”

波洛是个外表特别的小个子男人，身高只有五英尺四英寸，可是举止显得非常庄重。他的脑袋模样儿完全象只鸡蛋，而他总爱把它微微侧向一边。他的那一抹翘胡子又硬又挺，象个军人。他的衣着整洁得简直不可思议。我相信，在他身上落上一粒灰尘会使他感到比一颗子弹打伤他还要痛苦。这位漂亮的、打扮得象花花公子的小个子（看到他现在的精神这样沮丧，我感到很难过）原来一直是比利时警方最著名的工作人员之一，作为一个侦探，他有着非凡的天才，他曾经成功地侦破过当时的一些最最棘手的案件。

他指给我看了看他和他的比利时同胞栖身的小屋，我答应尽早去看望他。接着，他用一种戏剧性的动作，朝辛西娅扬了扬帽子。于是我们就上车离开了。

“他是个可爱的小个子，”辛西娅说。“我没有想到你认识他。”

“你们是在不知不觉地接待一位名人，”我回答说。

在回家的路上，我对他们讲述了赫卡尔·波洛的各种功绩和成就。

我们怀着欢乐的心情回到家里。当我们走进门厅时，英格里桑太太正从她的闺房②中出来。她看上去有些激动，心烦意乱。

“哦，是你们，”她说。

“出什么事了吗，埃米莉阿姨？”辛西娅问道。

“没有，”英格里桑太太警觉他说，“会出什么事呀？”这时她看到女佣人多卡斯走进餐室，就叫她拿点邮票到她房里去。

“好的，太太。”老女仆踌躇了一下，接着又胆怯地补充说：“大太，您不认为您最好还是上床去躺一会吗？您看来太疲劳了。”

“你也许说得对，多卡斯——是的——不——现在不行。我还有几封信，得赶在邮局收信之前写完。你已经按我告诉过你那样，在我房里生了火了吗？”

“生了，太太。”

“那我吃过晚饭就马上去睡。”

她又走进自己的房间，辛西娅凝视着她的背影。

“天啊！究竟出了什么事了？”她对劳伦斯说。

他仿佛没有听到她说的话，一声不吭地转身走出屋子去了。

我对辛西娅提议，在晚饭前来一场网球快速比赛，她同意了，于是我跑上楼去取球拍。

卡文迪什太太正下楼来。也许是我的一种错觉，可是她确实显得有点古怪，心神不定。

“去和鲍斯坦医生散步了吗？”我问道，尽可能表现出一种不在乎的样子。

“没去，”她仓猝地回答说。“英格里桑太太在哪儿？”

“在闺房里。”

她一只手紧握住栏杆，接着好象鼓起勇气去完成一件艰险的工作，匆匆地走过我的身旁，下了楼，穿过门厅，朝闺房走去，进去后，关上了身后的房门。

过了一会，我奔向网球场，我得从闺房的打开的窗下经过，这时我偶然地听到了下面这些谈话的片断。玛丽·卡文迪什以一个死命想控制住自己感情的妇女的声音在说：

“那你就不能给我看看吗？”

英格里桑太太对她回答说：

“亲爱的玛丽，这没有什么。”

“那就给我着看。”

“我告诉你了，事情不象你想的那样。这同你丝毫没有关系。”

玛丽·卡文迪什回答说，声音更加悲哀：

“当然罗，我早就知道你是会袒护他的。”

辛西娅正在等着我，她热切地迎着我说：

“嗨，大吵过一场啦！我从多卡斯那儿全部打听到了。”

“谁吵架呀？”

“埃米莉阿姨和他。我真希望她最终会看透他！”

“那么多卡斯在场吗？”

“当然不在。只是碰巧在房门口。这次可真是大破裂了。我真希望能把全部情况着；了解个一清二楚。”

我想起了雷克斯太太那张吉普赛人的脸蛋，以及伊夫琳·霍华德的警告，但是我明智地决心保持沉默，而辛西娅却千方百计地作了每一种可能的假设，兴奋地希望“埃米莉阿姨会把他撵走，会永远不再和他说话”。

我急于想见到约翰，可是到处都找不到他，显然，那天下午出了什么严重的事了。我竭力想忘掉我偶尔听到的那几句话，可是，不管我怎么着，我都没法把它们完全从我的脑子里抹去。玛丽·卡文迪什所关心的那件事是什么呢？

我下楼来吃饭时，英格里桑先生正坐在客厅里。他脸上的表情仍象往常一样冷淡，因而我重又感到此人的令人不快的虚伪。

英格里桑太太最后一个来，她看上去仍然焦躁不安。

吃饭期间餐桌上有着一种紧张的沉默。英格里桑异常平静，象往常一样，他给他的妻子时而献一点小殷勤，在她的背后放上一只背垫什么的，完全扮演着一个忠实丈夫的角色。饭后，英格里桑太太立即就回到自己的闺房去了。

“把我的咖啡拿来吧，玛丽，”她叫唤道。“要赶上邮班，只有五分钟了。”

我和辛西娅走到客厅的打开的窗户跟前，坐了下来。

玛丽·卡艾迪什给我们送来了咖啡。她显得有点激动。

“你们年轻人要开灯呢，”还是喜爱朦胧的黄昏？”她问道。“辛西娅，你把英格里桑太太的咖啡送去好吗？我来把它斟好。”

“你别麻烦了，玛丽，”英格里桑说：“我会给埃米莉送去的。”他斟了一杯咖啡，小心翼翼地端着它走出了房间。

劳伦斯也跟着出去了，于是卡文迪什太太在我们旁边坐了下来。

我们三人默默地坐了一会。这是个愉快的夜晚，四周一片静寂，天气很热，卡文迪什太太用一把棕榈叶扇轻轻地扇着凉。

“天气简直太热了，”她低声哺咕道，“要下雷雨了。””

唉，真是好景不长啊！我的良辰美景突然被门厅里的一阵熟识的非常讨厌的声音打破了。

“鲍斯坦医生！”辛西娅惊叫起来。“怪了，怎么这时候来。”

我偷偷地朝玛丽·卡文迪什瞥了一眼，可是她似乎十分泰然自若，她双颊上那娇白的脸色毫无变化。

过了一会，阿弗雷德·英格里桑把医生领进来了。后者大声笑着，坚决表示他这副样子去客厅是不适宜的。事实上，他真的出了洋相，他身上沾满了泥。

“你在忙什么呀，医生？”玛丽·卡文什迪大声问道。

“我得解释一下，”医生说。”我实在不打算进来，可是英格里桑先生定要我来。”

“哦，跑斯坦，你陷入窘境了。”约翰说着从过道里踱了进来。“喝点咖啡吧，和我们谈谈，你在忙点什么。”

“谢谢，我这就讲吧。”他苦笑着说。他说他在一个难攀登的地方发现了一种相当罕见的蕨类植物，而就在他千方百计想把它采到手的时候，他，实在丢人，竟失足掉进了近旁的一口池塘。

“太阳虽然很诀就把我的衣服晒干了，”他接着说，“可是我怕这一来我的面子都丢光了。”

就在这时候，英格里桑太太从过道里叫唤辛西娅了，于是，姑娘就跑出去了。

“请你把我的公文箱拿过来好吗，亲爱的？我打算睡觉了。”

通注过道的门开得很大。当辛西娅在拿箱子的时候，我已经站起身来，约翰就在我旁边。因此，有三个人可以证明，当时英格里桑太太还没喝咖啡，而是正端在手里。

我的那个傍晚，已被鲍斯坦医生的出现完全彻底地破坏了。看来此人好象不走了。然而，他终于站了起来，我才宽慰地舒了一口气。

“我走着陪你去村子吧，”英格里桑先生说。”我得去看看我们那个房地产代理人，”他又转身对着约翰说，“不需要人等我，我带大门钥匙去。”

注释：

①即一零六六年征服英国的英王威廉一世。

②系妇女的起居室或更衣室。

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