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Six
I
D r. Armstrong was dreaming….
It was very hot in the operating room….
Surely they’d got the temperature too high? The sweat was rolling down his face. His
hands were clammy. Difficult to hold the scalpel firmly….
How beautifully sharp it was….
Easy to do a murder with a knife like that. And of course he was doing a murder….
The woman’s body looked different. It had been a large unwieldy body. This was a spare
meagre body. And the face was hidden.
Who was it that he had to kill?
He couldn’t remember. But he must know! Should he ask Sister?
Sister was watching him. No, he couldn’t ask her. She was suspicious, he could see that.
But who was it on the operating table?
They shouldn’t have covered up the face like that….
If he could only see the face….
Ah! that was better. A young probationer was pulling off the handkerchief.
were! Her lips were moving. What was she saying?
“In the midst of life we are in death….”
She was laughing now. No, nurse, don’t put the handkerchief back. I’ve got to see. I’ve got
to give the anaesthetic. Where’s the ether? I must have brought the ether with me. What have
you done with the ether, Sister? Châteauneuf-du-Pape? Yes, that will do quite as well.
Take the handkerchief away, nurse.
Of course! I knew it all the time! It’s Anthony Marston! His face is purple and convulsed.
But he’s not dead—he’s laughing. I tell you he’s laughing! He’s shaking the operating table.
Look out, man, look out. Nurse, steady it—steady it—
With a start Dr. Armstrong woke up. It was morning. Sunlight was pouring into the room.
And someone was leaning over him—shaking him. It was Rogers. Rogers, with a white
face, saying: “Doctor—doctor!”
Dr. Armstrong woke up completely.
He sat up in bed. He said sharply:
“What is it?”
“It’s the wife, doctor. I can’t get her to wake. My God! I can’t get her to wake. And—and
she don’t look right to me.”
followed Rogers.
the bed.
Rogers whispered:
“Is—she—is she—?”
He passed a tongue over dry lips.
Armstrong nodded.
“Yes, she’s gone.”
His eyes rested thoughtfully on the man before him. Then they went to the table by the
bed, to the washstand, then back to the sleeping woman.
Rogers said:
“Was it—was it—’er ’eart, doctor?”
Dr. Armstrong was a minute or two before replying. Then he said:
“What was her health like normally?”
Rogers said:
“She was a bit rheumaticky.”
“Any doctor been attending her recently?”
“Doctor?” Rogers stared. “Not been to a doctor for years—neither of us.”
“You’d no reason to believe she suffered from heart trouble?”
“No, doctor. I never knew of anything.”
Armstrong said:
“Did she sleep well?”
uneasily. He muttered:
“She didn’t sleep extra well—no.”
The doctor said sharply:
“Did she take things to make her sleep?”
Rogers stared at him, surprised.
“Take things? To make her sleep? Not that I knew of. I’m sure she didn’t.”
Armstrong went over to the washstand.
of cucumber for the hands, a mouth-wash, toothpaste and some Elliman’s.
Rogers helped by pulling out the drawers of the dressing table. From there they moved on
Rogers said:
“She didn’t have nothing last night, sir, except what you gave her….”
第六章
1
阿姆斯特朗医生在做梦。
手术室里闷热难耐……
肯定是有人把温度调得太高了。汗水不停地从他脸上滴下来，他的两只手也湿漉漉
的，连手术刀都握不牢……
这把刀的刀刃锋利，简直太完美了……
用这样的刀子杀人简直易如反掌。他现在不就是在杀人吗……
这个女人的身体看起来很不一样，她本来应该是肥胖宽厚的，现在却瘦得像一把骨
头，而且也看不到脸。
他要杀的人是谁来着？
他不记得了。可是他必须知道。该不该去问护士？
护士正盯着他。不，不能问护士，她已经起了疑心，他能看出来。
可是，躺在手术台上的是谁？
他们不应该把脸盖起来……
要是他能看见这张脸……
啊！这样好多了，一个年轻的实习医生把盖在脸上的单子扯掉了。
埃米莉·布伦特，就是她。他就是要杀死埃米莉·布伦特。她的眼神太恶毒了！她的嘴唇
在翕动，她在说什么？
“生即是死……”
她正在笑。不，护士，别再把单子盖上去。让我来看看。我需要麻药。乙醚放在哪
儿？我肯定带乙醚了。你把乙醚放到哪儿了，护士？沙托纳迪帕普红酒？行，这个也行。
把单子掀开，护士。
没错！我早就知道，这是安东尼·马斯顿！脸色乌青，五官变形。可他并没有死，他在
笑。我说，他正在笑！手术台都被他晃动了。
小心点儿。护士，你要扶稳了，扶稳了——
突然，阿姆斯特朗医生惊醒过来。天色大亮，阳光照进房间。
有个人正弯腰摇晃他！是罗杰斯。他脸色苍白，喊着：“医生——医生！”
阿姆斯特朗医生完全清醒了。
他从床上坐起来，急忙问：
“怎么了？”
“我妻子，是我妻子不好了，医生。我叫不醒她，天哪！我怎么叫她都不管用，而且
——我觉得她看上去不太对劲儿。”
阿姆斯特朗医生麻利地披上睡衣，跟着罗杰斯走了。
罗杰斯太太安静地躺在床上。阿姆斯特朗医生在床边俯下身，拿起她冷冰的手，翻开
她的眼皮检查，过了好几分钟才站起来，转过身来。
罗杰斯小声问道：
“她是不是……是不是……”
他伸出舌头舔了舔发干的嘴唇。
阿姆斯特朗点点头。
“对，她死了。”
他看着眼前这个男人，若有所思。接着又走向床边的桌子，洗漱池，最后回到这个不
会醒来的女人身旁。
罗杰斯问：
“是不是……心脏病？”
阿姆斯特朗医生过了一两分钟才答话：
“她平时身体如何？”
“有风湿病。”
“最近看过医生吗？”
“医生？”罗杰斯瞪大了眼睛，“我们俩好多年没看过医生了。”
“你为什么觉得她有心脏病？”
“我不知道，医生，我不知道是为什么。”
阿姆斯特朗说：
“她的睡眠好吗？”
这一次，罗杰斯眼神闪躲，双手握在一起不安地搅动着，嘴里嘟囔着：
“她睡眠不太好……不好。”
医生紧追不舍地问：
“她有没有吃过什么药物来帮助睡眠？”
罗杰斯惊讶地看着他。
“吃药？帮助睡眠？我没听她说过，肯定没有。”
阿姆斯特朗走向洗漱池。
池子周围放着不少瓶瓶罐罐。洗发露，香水，缓泻剂，黄瓜甘油，漱口水，牙膏……
罗杰斯帮忙拉出梳妆台的抽屉，他们从这个抽屉开始翻，一直翻到五斗柜，也没找到
任何安眠药。
罗杰斯说：
“除了你给她的药，昨晚她没吃过别的……”
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