Chapter 14

At Muswell Hill

At about the time that Jane was leaving Antoine’s, Norman Gale¹ was saying in a heartyprofessional tone, ‘Just a little tender, I’m afraid…Guide me if I hurt you—’

His expert hand guided the electric drill.

‘There, that’s all over. Miss Ross?’

Miss Ross was immediately at his elbow stirring a minute white concoction² on a slab³.

Norman Gale completed his filling and said, ‘Let me see, it’s next Tuesday you’re coming forthose others?’

His patient, rinsing⁴ her mouth ardently⁵, burst into a fluent explanation. She was going away—sosorry—would have to cancel the next appointment. Yes, she would let him know when she gotback.

And she escaped hurriedly from the room.

‘Well,’ said Gale, ‘that’s all for today.’

Miss Ross said, ‘Lady Higginson rang up to say she must give up her appointment next week.

She wouldn’t make another. Oh, and Colonel Blunt can’t come on Thursday.’

Norman Gale nodded. His face hardened.

Every day was the same. People ringing up. Cancelled appointments. All varieties of excuses—going away—going abroad—got a cold—may not be here—It didn’t matter what reason they gave, the real reason Norman had just seen quite unmistakablyin his last patient’s eye as he reached for the drill…a look of sudden panic…He could have written down the woman’s thoughts on paper.

‘Oh, dear, of course he was in that aeroplane when that woman was murdered…I wonder…Youdo hear of people going off their heads and doing the most senseless crimes. It really isn’t safe.

The man might be a homicidal lunatic. They look the same as other people, I’ve always heard…Ibelieve I always felt there was rather a peculiar⁶ look in his eye…’

‘Well,’ said Gale, ‘it looks like being a quiet week next week, Miss Ross.’

‘Yes, a lot of people have dropped out. Oh, well, you can do with a rest. You worked so hardearlier in the summer.’

‘It doesn’t look as though I were going to have a chance of working very hard in the autumn,does it?’

Miss Ross did not reply. She was saved from having to do so by the telephone ringing. Shewent out of the room to answer it.

Norman dropped some instruments into the sterilizer⁷, thinking hard.

‘Let’s see how we stand. No beating about the bush. This business has about done for meprofessionally. Funny, it’s done well for Jane. People come on purpose to gape⁸ at her. Come tothink of it, that’s what’s wrong here—they have to gape at me, and they don’t like it! Nastyhelpless feeling you have in a dentist’s chair. If the dentist were to run amuck…‘What a strange business murder is! You’d think it was a perfectly⁹ straightforward¹⁰ issue—and itisn’t. It affects all sorts of queer things you’d never think of…Come back to facts. As a dentist Iseem to be about done for…What would happen, I wonder, if they arrested the Horbury woman?

Would my patients come trooping back? Hard to say. Once the rot’s set in…Oh, well, what does itmatter? I don’t care. Yes, I do—because of Jane…Jane’s adorable. I want her. And I can’t haveher—yet…A damnable nuisance.’

He smiled. ‘I feel it’s going to be all right…She cares…She’ll wait…Damn it, I shall go toCanada—yes, that’s it—and make money there.’

He laughed to himself.

Miss Ross came back into the room.

‘That was Mrs Lorrie. She’s sorry—’

‘—but she may be going to Timbuctoo,’ finished Norman. ‘Vive les rats! You’d better look outfor another post, Miss Ross. This seems to be a sinking ship.’

‘Oh, Mr Gale, I shouldn’t think of deserting you…’

‘Good girl. You’re not a rat, anyway. But seriously I mean it. If something doesn’t happen toclear up this mess I’m done for.’

‘Something ought to be done about it!’ said Miss Ross with energy. ‘I think the police aredisgraceful. They’re not trying.’

Norman laughed. ‘I expect they’re trying all right.’

‘Somebody ought to do something.’

‘Quite right. I’ve rather thought of trying to do something myself—though I don’t quite knowwhat.’

‘Oh, Mr Gale, I should. You’re so clever.’

‘I’m a hero to that girl all right,’ thought Norman Gale. ‘She’d like to help me in my sleuthstuff; but I’ve got another partner in view.’

It was that same evening that he dined with Jane. Half-unconsciously he pretended to be in veryhigh spirits, but Jane was too astute¹¹ to be deceived. She noted¹² his sudden moments of absent-mindedness, the little frown that showed between his brows, the sudden strained line of his mouth.

She said at last, ‘Norman, are things going badly?’

He shot a quick glance at her, then looked away.

‘Well, not too frightfully well. It’s a bad time of year.’

‘Don’t be idiotic,’ said Jane sharply.

‘Jane!’

‘I mean it. Don’t you think I can see that you’re worried to death?’

‘I’m not worried to death. I’m just annoyed.’

‘You mean people are fighting shy—’

‘Of having their teeth attended to by a possible murderer? Yes.’

‘How cruelly unfair!’

‘It is, rather. Because frankly¹³, Jane, I’m a jolly good dentist. And I’m not a murderer.’

‘It’s wicked. Somebody ought to do something.’

‘That’s what my secretary, Miss Ross, said this morning.’

‘What’s she like?’

‘Miss Ross?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Big — lots of bones — nose rather like a rocking horse — frightfullycompetent.’

‘She sounds quite nice,’ said Jane graciously.

Norman rightly took this as a tribute to his diplomacy¹⁴. Miss Ross’s bones were not really quiteas formidable as stated, and she had an extremely attractive head of red hair, but he felt, andrightly, that it was just as well not to dwell on the latter point to Jane.

‘I’d like to do something,’ he said. ‘If I was a young man in a book I’d find a clue or I’d shadowsomebody.’

Jane tugged¹⁵ suddenly at his sleeve.

‘Look, there’s Mr Clancy—you know, the author—sitting over there by the wall by himself. Wemight shadow him.’

‘But we were going to the flicks¹⁶?’

‘Never mind the flicks. I feel somehow this might be meant. You said you wanted to shadowsomebody, and here’s somebody to shadow. You never know. We might find out something.’

Jane’s enthusiasm was infectious. Norman fell in with the plan readily enough.

‘As you say, one never knows,’ he said. ‘Whereabouts has he got to in his dinner? I can’t seeproperly without turning my head, and I don’t want to stare.’

‘He’s about level with us,’ said Jane. ‘We’d better hurry a bit and get ahead and then we canpay the bill and be ready to leave when he does.’

They adopted this plan. When at last little Mr Clancy rose and passed out into Dean Street,Norman and Jane were fairly close on his heels.

‘In case he takes a taxi,’ Jane explained.

But Mr Clancy did not take a taxi. Carrying an overcoat over one arm (and, occasionallyallowing it to trail on the ground), he ambled¹⁷ gently through the London streets. His progress wassomewhat erratic¹⁸. Sometimes he moved forward at a brisk trot¹⁹, sometimes he slowed down till healmost came to a stop. Once, on the very brink²⁰ of crossing a road, he did come to a standstill,standing there with one foot hanging over the kerb and looking exactly like a slow-motion picture.

His direction, too, was erratic. Once he actually took so many right-angle turns that he traversedthe same streets twice over.

Jane felt her spirits rise.

‘You see?’ she said excitedly. ‘He’s afraid of being followed. He’s trying to put us off thescent.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘Of course. Nobody would go round in circles otherwise.’

‘Oh!’

They had turned a corner rather quickly and had almost cannoned²¹ into their quarry²². He wasstanding staring up at a butcher’s shop. The shop itself was naturally closed, but it seemed to besomething about the level of the first floor that was riveting²³ Mr Clancy’s attention.

He said aloud, ‘Perfect. The very thing. What a piece of luck!’

He took out a little book and wrote something down very carefully. Then he started off again ata brisk pace, humming a little tune²⁴.

He was now heading definitely for Bloomsbury. Sometimes, when he turned his head, the twobehind could see his lips moving.

‘There is something up,’ said Jane. ‘He’s in great distress²⁵ of mind. He’s talking to himself andhe doesn’t know it.’

As he waited to cross by some traffic lights, Norman and Jane drew abreast²⁶.

It was quite true; Mr Clancy was talking to himself. His face looked white and strained. Normanand Jane caught a few muttered words:

‘Why doesn’t she speak? Why? There must be a reason…’

The lights went green. As they reached the opposite pavement Mr Clancy said, ‘I see now. Ofcourse. That’s why she’s got to be silenced!’

Jane pinched Norman ferociously²⁷.

Mr Clancy set off at a great pace now. The overcoat dragged hopelessly. With great strides thelittle author covered the ground, apparently²⁸ oblivious²⁹ of the two people on his tracks.

Finally, with disconcerting abruptness³⁰, he stopped at a house, opened the door with a key andwent in.

Norman and Jane looked at each other.

‘It’s his own house,’ said Norman. ‘47 Cardington Square. That’s the address he gave at theinquest.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Jane, ‘perhaps he’ll come out again by and by. And, anyway, we have heardsomething. Somebody—a woman—is going to be silenced, and some other woman won’t speak.

Oh, dear, it sounds dreadfully like a detective story.’

A voice came out of the darkness. ‘Good evening,’ it said.

The owner of the voice stepped forward. A pair of magnificent moustaches showed in thelamplight.

‘Eh bien,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘A fine evening for the chase, is it not?’

 

点击收听单词发音