Chapter 9 – A. to J.

I doubt if I shall ever forget the night that followed. Poirot was a prey to such an agony of self-reproach that I was really alarmed. Ceaselessly he strode up and down the room heaping anathemas on his own head and deaf to my well-meant remonstrances.

'What it is to have too good an opinion of oneself. I am punished-yes, I am punished. I, Hercule Poirot. I was too sure of myself.'

'No, no,' I interpolated.

'But who would imagine-who could imagine-such unparalleled audacity? I had taken, as I thought, all possible precautions. I had warned the murderer-'

'Warned the murderer?'

'Mais oui. I had drawn attention to myself. I had let him see that I suspected-someone. I had made it, or so I thought, too dangerous for him to dare to repeat his attempts at murder. I had drawn a cordon round Mademoiselle. And he slips through it! Boldly-under our very eyes almost, he slips through it! In spite of us all-of everyone being on the alert, he achieves his object.'

'Only he doesn't,' I reminded him.

'That is the chance only! From my point of view, it is the same. A human life has been taken, Hastings-whose life is non-essential.'

'Of course,' I said. 'I didn't mean that.'

'But on the other hand, what you say is true. And that makes it worse-ten times worse. For the murderer is still as far as ever from achieving his object. Do you understand, my friend? The position is changed-for the worse. It may mean that not one life-but two-will be sacrificed.'

'Not while you're about,' I said stoutly.

He stopped and wrung my hand.

'Merci, mon ami! Merci! You still have confidence in the old one-you still have the faith. You put new courage into me. Hercule Poirot will not fail again. No second life shall be taken. I will rectify my error-for, see you, there must have been an error! Somewhere there has been a lack of order and method in my usually so well arranged ideas. I will start again. Yes, I will start at the beginning. And this time-I will not fail.'

'You really think then,' I said, 'that Nick Buckley's life is still in danger?' 'My friend, for what other reason did I send her to this nursing home?' 'Then it wasn't the shock-'

'The shock! Pah! One can recover from shock as well in one's own home as in a nursing home-better, for that matter. It is not amusing there, the floors of green linoleum, the conversation of the nurses-the meals on trays, the ceaseless washing. No, no, it is for safety and safety only. I take the doctor into my confidence. He agrees. He will make all arrangements. No one, mon ami, not even her dearest friend, will be admitted to see Miss Buckley. You and I are the only ones permitted. Pour les autres-eh bien! "Doctor's orders," they will be told. A phrase very convenient and one not to be gainsayed.'

'Yes,' I said. 'Only-' 'Only what, Hastings?' 'That can't go on for ever.'

'A very true observation. But it gives us a little breathing space. And you realize, do you not, that the character of our operations has changed.'

'In what way?'

'Our original task was to ensure the safety of Mademoiselle. Our task now is a much simpler one-a task with which we are well acquainted. It is neither more nor less than the hunting down of a murderer.'

'You call that simpler?'

'Certainly it is simpler. The murderer has, as I said the other day, signed his name to the crime. He has come out into the open.'

'You don't think-' I hesitated, then went on. 'You don't think that the police are right? That this is the work of a madman, some wandering lunatic with homicidal mania?'

'I am more than ever convinced that such is not the case.'

'You really think that-'

I stopped. Poirot took up my sentence, speaking very gravely.

'That the murderer is someone in Mademoiselle's own circle? Yes, mon ami, I do.'

'But surely last night must almost rule out that possibility. We were all together and-'

He interrupted.

'Could you swear, Hastings, that any particular person had never left our little company there on the edge of the cliff? Is there any one person there whom you could swear you had seen all the time?'

'No,' I said slowly, struck by his words. 'I don't think I could. It was dark. We all moved about, more or less. On different occasions I noticed Mrs Rice, Lazarus, you, Croft, Vyse-but all the time-no.'

Poirot nodded his head.

'Exactly. It would be a matter of a very few minutes. The two girls go to the house. The murderer slips away unnoticed, hides behind that sycamore tree in the middle of the lawn. Nick Buckley, or so he thinks, comes out of the window, passes within a foot of him, he fires three shots in rapid succession-'

'Three?' I interjected.

'Yes. He was taking no chances this time. We found three bullets in the body.' 'That was risky, wasn't it?'

'Less risky in all probability than one shot would have been. A Mauser pistol does not make a great deal of noise. It would resemble more or less the popping of the fireworks and blend in very well with the noise of them.'

'Did you find the pistol?' I asked.

'No. And there, Hastings, lies to my mind the indisputable proof that no stranger is responsible for this. We agree, do we not, that Miss Buckley's own pistol was taken in the first place for one reason only-to give her death the appearance of suicide.'

'Yes.'

'That is the only possible reason, is it not? But now, you observe, there is no pretence of suicide. The murderer knows that we should not any longer be deceived by it. He knows, in fact, what we know!'

I reflected, admitting to myself the logic of Poirot's deduction. 'What did he do with the pistol do you think?' Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

'For that, it is difficult to say. But the sea was exceedingly handy. A good toss of the arm, and the pistol sinks, never to be recovered. We cannot, of course, be absolutely sure-but that is what I should have done.'

His matter-of-fact tone made me shiver a little.

'Do you think-do you think he realized that he'd killed the wrong person?'

'I am quite sure he did not,' said Poirot, grimly. 'Yes, that must have been an unpleasant little surprise for him when he learnt the truth. To keep his face and betray nothing-it cannot have been easy.'

At that moment I bethought me of the strange attitude of the maid, Ellen. I gave Poirot an account of her peculiar demeanour. He seemed very interested.

'She betrayed surprise, did she, that it was Maggie who was dead?' 'Great surprise.'

'That is curious. And yet, the fact of a tragedy was clearly not a surprise to her. Yes, there is something there that must be looked into. Who is she, this Ellen? So quiet, so respectable in the English manner? Could it be she who-?' He broke off.

'If you're going to include the accidents,' I said, 'surely it would take a man to have rolled that heavy boulder down the cliff.'

'Not necessarily. It is very largely a question of leverage. Oh, yes, it could be done.'

He continued his slow pacing up and down the room.

'Anyone who was at End House last night comes under suspicion. But those guests-no, I do not think it was one of them. For the most part, I should say, they were mere acquaintances. There was no intimacy between them and the young mistress of the house.'

'Charles Vyse was there,' I remarked.

'Yes, we must not forget him. He is, logically, our strongest suspect.' He made a gesture of despair and threw himself into a chair opposite mine. 'Voila-it is always that we come back to! Motive! We must find the motive if we are to understand this crime. And it is there, Hastings, that I am continually baffled. Who can possibly have a motive for doing away with Mademoiselle Nick? I have let myself go to the most absurd suppositions. I, Hercule Poirot, have descended to the most ignominious flights of fancy. I have adopted the mentality of the cheap thriller. The grandfather-the "Old Nick"-he who is supposed to have gambled his money away. Did he really do so, I have asked myself? Did he, on the contrary, hide it away? Is it hidden somewhere in End House? Buried somewhere in the grounds? With that end in view (I am ashamed to say it) I inquired of Mademoiselle Nick whether there had ever been any offers to buy the house.'

'Do you know, Poirot,' I said, 'I call that rather a bright idea. There may be something in it.'

Poirot groaned.

'You would say that! It would appeal, I knew, to your romantic but slightly mediocre mind. Buried treasure-yes, you would enjoy that idea.'

'Well-I don't see why not-'

'Because, my friend, the more prosaic explanation is nearly always more probable. Then Mademoiselle's father-I have played with even more degrading ideas concerning him. He was a traveller. Supposing, I say to myself, that he has stolen a jewel-the eye of a God. Jealous priests are on his tracks. Yes, I, Hercule Poirot, have descended to depths such as these.'

'I have had other ideas concerning this father,' he went on. 'Ideas at once more dignified and more probable. Did he, in the course of his wanderings, contract a second marriage? Is there a nearer heir than M. Charles Vyse? But again, that leads nowhere, for we are up against the same difficulty-that there is really nothing of value to inherit.'

'I have neglected no possibility. Even that chance reference of Mademoiselle Nick's to the offer made her by M. Lazarus. You remember? The offer to purchase her grandfather's portrait. I telegraphed on Saturday for an expert to come down and examine that picture. He was the man about whom I wrote to Mademoiselle this morning. Supposing, for instance, it were worth several thousand pounds?'

'You surely don't think a rich man like young Lazarus-?'

'Is he rich? Appearances are not everything. Even an old-established firm with palatial showrooms and every appearance of prosperity may rest on a rotten basis. And what does one do then? Does one run about crying out that times are hard? No, one buys a new and luxurious car. One spends a little more money than usual. One lives a little more ostentatiously. For credit, see you, is everything! But sometimes a monumental business has crashed-for no more than a few thousand pounds-of ready money.'

'Oh! I know,' he continued, forestalling my protests. 'It is far-fetched-but it is not so bad as revengeful priests or buried treasure. It bears, at any rate, some relationship to things as they happen. And we can neglect nothing-nothing that might bring us nearer the truth.'

With careful fingers he straightened the objects on the table in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was grave and, for the first time, calm.

'Motive!' he said. 'Let us come back to that, and regard this problem calmly and methodically. To begin with, how many kinds of motive are there for murder? What are the motives which lead one human being to take another human being's life?'

'We exclude for the moment homicidal mania. Because I am absolutely convinced that the solution of our problem does not lie there. We also exclude killing done on the spur of the moment under the impulse of an ungovernable temper. This is cold-blooded deliberate murder. What are the motives that actuate such a murder as that?'

'There is, first, Gain. Who stood to gain by Mademoiselle Buckley's death? Directly or indirectly? Well, we can put down Charles Vyse. He inherits a property that, from the financial point of view, is probably not worth inheriting. He might, perhaps, pay off the mortgage, build small villas on the land and eventually make a small profit. It is possible. The place might be worth something to him if he had any deeply cherished love of it-if, it were, for instance, a family place. That is, undoubtedly, an instinct very deeply implanted in some human beings, and it has, in cases I have known, actually led to crime. But I cannot see any such motive in M. Vyse's case.'

'The only other person who would benefit at all by Mademoiselle Buckley's death is her friend, Madame Rice. But the amount would clearly be a very small one. Nobody else, as far as I can see, gains by Mademoiselle Buckley's death.'

'What is another motive? Hate-or love that has turned to hate. The crime passionnel. Well, there again we have the word of the observant Madame Croft that both Charles Vyse and Commander Challenger are in love with the young lady.'

'I think we can say that we have observed the latter phenomenon for ourselves,' I remarked, with a smile.

'Yes-he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, the honest sailor. For the other, we rely on the word of Madame Croft. Now, if Charles Vyse felt that he were supplanted, would he be so powerfully affected that he would kill his cousin rather than let her become the wife of another man?'

'It sounds very melodramatic,' I said, doubtfully.

'It sounds, you would say, un-English. I agree. But even the English have emotions. And a type such as Charles Vyse, is the most likely to have them. He is a repressed young man. One who does not show his feelings easily. Such often have the most violent feelings. I would never suspect the Commander Challenger of murder for emotional reasons. No, no, he is not the type. But with Charles Vyse-yes, it is possible. But it does not entirely satisfy me.'

'Another motive for crime-Jealousy. I separate it from the last, because jealousy may not, necessarily, be a sexual emotion. There is envy-envy of possession-of supremacy. Such a jealousy as drove the Iago of your great Shakespeare to one of the cleverest crimes (speaking from the professional point of view) that has ever been committed.'

'Why was it so clever?' I asked, momentarily diverted.

'Parbleu-because he got others to execute it. Imagine a criminal nowadays on whom one was unable to put the handcuffs because he had never done anything himself. But this is not the subject we were discussing. Can jealousy, of any kind, be responsible for this crime? Who has reason to envy Mademoiselle? Another woman? There is only Madame Rice, and as far as we can see, there was no rivalry between the two women. But again, that is only "as far as we can see". There may be something there.'

'Lastly-Fear. Does Mademoiselle Nick, by any chance, hold somebody's secret in her power? Does she know something which, if it were known, might ruin another life? If so, I think we can say very definitely, that she herself is unaware of it . But that might be, you know. That might be. And if so, it makes it very difficult. Because, whilst she holds the clue in her hands, she holds it unconsciously and will be quite unable to tell us what it is.'

'You really think that is possible?'

'It is a hypothesis. I am driven to it by the difficulty of finding a reasonable theory elsewhere. When you have eliminated other possibilities you turn to the one that is left and say-since the other is not-this must be so...'

He was silent a long time.

At last, rousing himself from his absorption, he drew a sheet of paper towards him and began to write.

'What are you writing?' I asked, curiously.

'Mon ami, I am composing a list. It is a list of people surrounding Mademoiselle Buckley. Within that list, if my theory is correct, there must be the name of the murderer.'

He continued to write for perhaps twenty minutes-then shoved the sheets of paper across to me.

'Voila, mon ami. See what you make of it.' The following is a reproduction of the paper:

A. Ellen.

B. Her gardener husband.

? Their child.

D. Mr Croft.

E. Mrs Croft.

F. Mrs Rice.

G. Mr Lazarus.

H. Commander Challenger.

I. Mr Charles Vyse.

J.

Remarks:

Ellen.-Suspicious circumstances. Her attitude and words on hearing of the crime. Best opportunity of anyone to have staged accidents and to have known of pistol, but unlikely to have tampered with car, and general mentality of crime seems above her level.

Motive.-None-unless hate arising out of some incident unknown.

Note.-Further inquiries as to her antecedents and general relations with N. B.

Her Husband.-Same as above. More likely to have tampered with car.

Note.-Should be interviewed.

Child.-Can be ruled out.

Note.-Should be interviewed. Might give valuable information.

Mr Croft.-Only suspicious circumstance the fact that we met him mounting the stair to bedroom floor. Had ready explanation which may be true. But it may not!

Nothing known of antecedents. Motive.-None.

Mrs Croft.-Suspicious circumstances.-None.

Motive.-None.

Mrs Rice.-Suspicious circumstances. Full opportunity. Asked N. B. to fetch wrap. Has deliberately tried to create impression that N. B. is a liar and her account of 'accidents' not to be relied on. Was not at Tavistock when accidents occurred. Where was she?

Motive.-Gain? Very slight. Jealousy? Possible, but nothing known. Fear? Also possible, but nothing known.

Note.-Converse with N. B. on subject. See if any light is thrown upon matter. Possibly something to do with F. R.'s marriage.

Mr Lazarus.-Suspicious circumstances. General opportunity. Offer to buy picture. Said brakes of car were quite all right (according to F. R.). May have been in neighbourhood prior to Friday.

Motive.-None-unless profit on picture. Fear?-unlikely.

Note.-Find out where J. L. was before arriving at St Loo. Find out financial position of Aaron Lazarus & Son.

Commander Challenger.-Suspicious circumstances. None. Was in neighbourhood all last week, so opportunity for 'accidents' good. Arrived half an hour after murder.

Motive.-None.

Mr Vyse.-Suspicious circumstances. Was absent from office at time when shot was fired in garden of hotel. Opportunity good. Statement about selling of End House open to doubt. Of a repressed temperament. Would probably know about pistol.

Motive.-Gain? (slight) Love or Hate? Possible with one of his temperament. Fear? Unlikely.

Note.-Find out who held mortgage. Find out position of Vyse's firm.

?-There could be a J., e.g. an outsider. But with a link in the form of one of the foregoing. If so, probably connected with A. D. and E. or F. The existence of J. would explain (1) Ellen's lack of surprise at crime and her pleasurable satisfaction. (But that might be due to natural pleasurable excitement of her class over deaths.) (2) The reason for Croft and his wife coming to live in lodge. (3) Might supply motive for F. R.'s fear of secret being revealed or for jealousy.

Poirot watched me as I read.

'It is very English, is it not? he remarked, with pride. 'I am more English when I write than when I speak.'

'It's an excellent piece of work,' I said, warmly. 'It sets all the possibilities out most clearly.'

'Yes,' he said, thoughtfully, as he took it back from me. 'And one name leaps to the eye, my friend. Charles Vyse. He has the best opportunities. We have given him the choice of two motives. Ma foi -if that was a list of racehorses, he would start favourite, n'est-ce pas?'

'He is certainly the most likely suspect.'

'You have a tendency, Hastings, to prefer the least likely. That, no doubt, is from reading too many detective stories. In real life, nine times out of ten, it is the most likely and the most obvious person who commits the crime.'

'But you don't really think that is so this time?'

'There is only one thing that is against it. The boldness of the crime! That has stood out from the first. Because of that, as I say, the motive cannot be obvious.'

'Yes, that is what you said at first.' 'And that is what I say again.'

With a sudden brusque gesture he crumpled the sheets of paper and threw them on the floor.

'No,' he said, as I uttered an exclamation of protest. 'That list has been in vain. Still, it has cleared my mind. Order and method! That is the first stage. To arrange the facts with neatness and precision. The next stage-'

'Yes.'

'The next stage is that of the psychology. The correct employment of the little grey cells! I advise you, Hastings, to go to bed.'

'No,' I said. 'Not unless you do. I'm not going to leave you.'

'Most faithful of dogs! But see you, Hastings, you cannot assist me to think. That is all I am going to do-think.'

I still shook my head.

'You might want to discuss some point with me.'

'Well-well-you are a loyal friend. Take at least, I beg of you, the easy-chair.'

That proposal I did accept. Presently the room began to swim and dip. The last thing I remember was seeing Poirot carefully retrieving the crumpled sheets of paper from the floor and putting them away tidily in the waste-paper basket.

Then I must have fallen asleep.

第九章　从一到十

那天深夜回到旅馆以后的情形我这辈子都不会忘记。

波洛对自己的失误所表现出来的那种痛心疾首、怨气冲天的样子叫我暗暗吃惊。他在房间里迈着大步走个不停，用他所知道的一切英文和法文的骂人话来咒骂他自己，对我的劝慰充耳不闻。

“这就是太自私的好结果，我受到惩罚了，是的，我受到惩罚了——我，赫尔克里·波洛！我太自以为是了。”

“别，别这么说。”我想宽慰他一下。

“可谁会想到，谁能够想到，那家伙居然有这样大的胆子？我自以为防范已经十分周密，还以为是万无一失，并且我还警告了那个罪犯——”

“警告了罪犯？”

“是的。我到处亮相，还显示出我已经有所怀疑的模样。我认为这一来他不敢再动杀人的念头了，因为危险之大足以令一切歹徒不敢轻举妄动。我在小姐周围设了无形的警戒线，不料被他当成了儿戏！胆子多大，算得多准——就在我们眼皮底下杀了人？尽管我们百倍提防，罪犯还是得逞了！”

“但他并没有达到目的。”我提醒他。

“只是侥幸而已。对我来说全都一样。一个人的性命被夺去了，黑斯廷斯。你说，谁的性命不值钱？”

“当然，我不是这个意思。”

“不过从另一方面看，你所说的也是事实。可是只有更糟，十倍地糟！因为那个凶手决不会就此罢手的，这就意味着要牺牲的不是一条人命而是两条了。”

“只要有你在，就不会是两条！”我说得很有把握。

他停下来紧紧握住我的手。

“谢谢你，我的朋友，谢谢你对老朋友还有信心！你给了我新的勇气。赫尔克里·波洛决不会再失败的。再不会有谁惨遭横死了。我将纠正我的错误，因为肯定有什么地方弄错了。在我通常百无一失的思考之链上看来缺了某一环。我要重起炉灶，是的，一切从头来起。这一次——我不会失败！”

“你现在还认为尼克的生命朝不保夕吗？”

“我的朋友，这就是我把她送到休养所去的原因呀。”

“这么说，并不是因为受了刺激……”

“刺激！哈！要让一个人从受到的刺激里恢复过来并不需要送到休养所去，在家里一样可以恢复的。要知道住休养所并不是一件值得羡慕的事。地板上铺着绿色的油毡，护士们对着你的饭食议论不休，还怨声载道地抱怨那些洗不完的被单。啊，送尼克到那儿去是为了安全，仅仅是为了她的安全。医生答应了我的要求，会把一切都安排好的。没有谁，我的朋友，甚至连她最亲密无间的亲友都得不到许可去探望巴克利小姐。只有你我两人有这个权利，其他的人将被告知这是大夫的吩咐，这是个很合适的借口，没有谁会抗议的。”

“是啊，”我说，“只不过——”

“不过什么，黑斯廷斯？”

“只不过不能永远这么下去呀。”

“说得对。但至少我们可以有个喘口气的余地了。你想必已经意识到我们的主要任务已经改变了吧？”

“变成什么了？”

“过去我们的主要任务是保护尼克。现在则简单多了，变成一个你我非常熟悉的任务了，就是捕捉凶手。”

“你把这叫作‘简单得多’吗？”

“当然简单啰。我曾经说过，凶手在作案的时候也就是在留名题姓。现在那家伙已经作了案了。”

“你认为，”我犹豫了一下说，“你认为那位警官说得不对？他说是疯子干的，一个嗜杀成性的神经错乱者。”

“现在我更相信不是这么回事。”

“你认为……”

波洛接着我的话严肃地往下说：

“凶手是尼克社交圈子里的人。是的，我的朋友，我是这样想的。”

“但刚才，哦，现在该说昨天晚上了，这种可能性却不存在。我们都在一起，而且——”

他打断我的话说：

“你能发誓说决没有一个人离开过峭壁边的我们那一群人吗？难道你能起誓说你了解每个人自始至终的位置和行为吗？”

我被他的话打动了，慢慢说道：

“不，这个我倒说不准。天很黑，每个人或多或少都在走动。我见到过赖斯太太、拉扎勒斯、你、克罗夫特、维斯，但并不是一直都看得见。”

波洛点点头。

“正确得很。凶杀只是几分钟的事。两个姑娘进屋去了。凶手趁人不备溜过去躲在草地中央那棵无花果树后边。尼克·巴克利——他当然看错了——从屋里走出来，走过那棵树的时候他连开三枪——”

“三枪？”我叫了起来。

“是的，他看不真切，怕打不准。我们从尸体上找到三处伤口。”

“这太冒险了，不是吗？”

“并不比开一枪更冒险。毛瑟手枪响声不大，很像焰火开花的爆裂声，所以一下子融合到焰火声中去了。”

“你找到那枝手枪没有？”我问。

“没有，黑斯廷斯。但我觉得有足够的理由认为此案与外人无关。这一点我们是一致同意的，即，尼克的手枪被窃，只是为了杀死尼克之后可以造成自杀的假象。”

“是的。”

“只能是这样的。可是现在还装得出什么自杀的假象呢？凶手知道这样做已经骗不了人了。事实上，我们所掌握的是些什么他全都明白。那么，藏着凶器还有什么意义呢？”

我思忖着，觉得他的推论很有道理。

“那么你认为他会怎样处理那枝手枪呢？”

波洛耸了耸肩，说：

“这倒难说。但大海近在咫尺，手一挥，那手枪不就销形匿迹了吗？当然不一定是这样，可要是我是那家伙，就会这样处理它的。”

他说话的语气是如此肯定，就像他已亲眼看见了似的。我不由得一怔。

“你想当时他有没有立即发觉杀错了人？”

“他当时肯定没有发觉。”波洛阴沉地说，“哼，发觉后他可要不那么愉快地发一阵子昏啦。既要掩饰自己的大失所望，又要装得若无其事，这可需要一点天才。”

这时我想起女佣人埃伦的反常表现，就对波洛说了。他听了大感兴趣。

“死的是马吉叫她感到意外，是这样吗？”

“何止意外，简直可以说是大惊失色哩。”

“这倒怪了。谋杀本身不叫她吃惊，死的是马吉倒使她大惊失色！啊，这很值得研究一番。她是什么人，这个埃伦？她那么安详冷静，从头到脚一派可敬的英国风度，会是她？”

他不说下去了。

“回忆一下以前发生的那几件事，”我说，“就会发现凶手应该是个男人。把那块石头憾松并推下悬崖可是要用点力气的。”

“这倒不见得。用一根合适的杠杆就谁都能行。唔，这并不是个理由。”

他继续在房间里慢步徘徊。

“昨天晚上在悬崖山庄的人都有嫌疑，但那几位后来的客人——不，我想不会是他们当中的人干的。他们中大多数跟尼克只是泛泛之交。也就是说，跟悬崖山庄的女主人没有什么比较密切的关系。”

“他们之中有查尔斯·维斯呢。”我给他指出了这一点。

“是的，不可把他忘记。从逻辑上说，他是最可疑的人。”波洛做了个绝望的手势，然后一屁股坐进我对面的一张沙发上。“就是说——我们归根结底总是要回到这上头来：动机！要想揭露这神秘的谋杀案，就一定得首先把杀人的动机搞清楚。然而正是在这关键性的一点上，黑斯廷斯，我至今茫无头绪，一筹莫展。谁会有干掉尼克的动机呢？为了解释动机，我作出了各种荒唐可笑的假设。我，赫尔克里·波洛，竟会每况愈下无能到这种地步，像个编造廉价侦探小说的人一样胡思乱想起来。我想，那个祖父——老尼克——人们猜想他把钱全赌光了，但真的赌光了吗？是不是正好相反，他把钱在悬崖山庄的某个地方藏了起来？比方说，埋在地下？正因为有这样的假设——说来真羞得我无地自容——我才问尼克是否有人提议买她的悬崖山庄。”

“你知道吗，波洛？”我说，“我觉得你的这个假设是合情合理的。嗯，很有点道理。”

波洛哼了一声。

“我就知道你会这么说，这种假设很合你的浪漫口味，嗬，埋藏在地下的财宝——不错，你一定很欣赏这种假设的。”

“这种假设有什么不对头呢？”

“因为，我的朋友，我们并不是生活在‘天方夜谭’的世界里。在现实当中，最枯燥无味的解释常常是最接近事实的。我还想到小姐的父亲——对于他，我的设想更不像话了。他是个旅行家，我对自己说，可能他偷了一块价值连城的宝石，而这块宝石是一尊什么神像的眼珠。于是守护神像的僧侣一路寻访，追踪到这里来了。瞧，我，赫尔克里·波洛快成为传奇小说家了。

“关于她父亲，我还有过另外一种奇想，这种想法比较正经一点。他到处游荡，是不是在外头又结了婚？是不是有一个比查尔斯·维斯更近的继承人？于是我又碰到了我们的老难题——没有什么东西真正值得继承。

“我把可以想得出来的可能性全考虑过了。甚至考虑过拉扎勒斯先生为什么想买尼克祖父的肖像。星期六我打了个电话给一位鉴定家，请他来把那幅肖像估价一下。关于此人，昨天早上我不是请你送了张便条给尼克小姐吗？假设一下，比方说，那幅画会不会值到好几千英镑呢？”

“难道你认为像拉扎勒斯这么一个有钱的人……”

“他有钱吗？外表是说明不了问题的。一家老牌商号看上去店堂里金碧辉煌，帐册上财源丰厚，令人艳羡不已，内里却可能早已寅吃卯粮，债台高筑了。这种时候人们会怎么办呢？难道会到处诉苦叫穷说自己快破产了不成？不，在这种不妙的窘境里，人们会买上一辆极尽奢华的小轿车，在大庭广众之中装得更加挥金如土。你瞧，这只是为了维持信誉，好再跟别人借钱。有时一家俨然巨资的公司会突然崩溃，就因为周转不灵，一时短少几千英镑现钞。”

“哦，我知道，”他不让我反驳，继续旁征博引，侃侃而谈。“这种说法可能有点牵强附会，但比起那些复仇的僧侣或者埋藏的珍宝来，还更近情理。无论如何，当一件事发生的时候，各种因素之间总有一定的关系。我们不要忽视任何可能引导我们走向事实的指路标。”

他小心翼翼地把面前桌上的东西一件一件摆得整整齐齐。他再开口的时候声调严肃，而且显得十分冷静了。

“动机！”他说：“让我们再回到这个题目上来。让我们冷静而有条理地研究一下这个问题。首先，谋杀往往有哪几种动机呢？是什么东西会使一个人要杀害别一个人呢？这里我们暂且不论有杀人怪癖的疯子，因为我认为在我们这个案件里根本不存在这种可能性。我们也排除因一时感情冲动而杀人的可能性。这次凶杀是一个心如铁石的人经过深思熟虑之后干出来的。这样一种谋杀可能有哪些动机呢？”

“第一，图利。谁能因尼克之死而直接或间接地得益呢？喏，我们可以着眼于查尔斯·维斯。从经济观点讲，他会继承一笔不值得继承的财产。他有可能偿清抵押款，在这块地方建造几幢小别墅图些薄利。如果这块地方是他的祖居，那么由于感情上的原因，这里对他就更有价值了。有些人心中生来就有那么一种依恋乡土、崇敬祖居的天性。这就可能导致犯罪行为。但是在查尔斯·维斯身上，我看不出有这种动机存在。

“因尼克之死而得益的另外一个人是她的朋友赖斯太太。可是那么一点点钱算得了什么。除了他们两人之外，我实在看不出还有什么人能够因尼克之死而得到经济上的好处了。

“下一个动机是什么呢？是仇恨——或者是由爱变成的仇恨，罪恶的情欲。克罗夫特太太告诉过我们，查尔斯·维斯和查林杰中校都爱上了这位年轻女郎。”

我笑着说：

“第二位先生对尼克的爱慕之情我们是有目共睹的。”

“对，这老实的海员对感情一点都不加掩饰。至于维斯对尼克的私心，我们就相信克罗夫特太太的说法吧。现在我们想想看。如果查尔斯·维斯意识到情场角逐之中自己处于劣势，他会不会觉得与其让自己所爱的姑娘成为情敌的老婆，还不如干脆杀了她，谁也到不了手？他有这种魄力吗？”

“太富有戏剧性了，”我疑惑地说。

“你会认为这种事情听起来有点异国情调，这我同意。但英国人也有激情！像查尔斯·维斯就正是这样的人。他是个情感深藏不露的青年，这种人往往用冷若冰霜面具来掩盖波涛汹涌的情感。由于这种情感是被牢牢禁锢在心灵的最深处，因此一旦爆发，便什么都干得出来。我决不认为查林杰中校会是个情杀案的凶手，但查尔斯·维斯却有这个可能。不过这样来解释动机，我总觉得是削足适履，有点儿生拉活扯的。

“另外还有一种动机，是妒忌，我把妒忌同前面提及的那种动机区别开来，是考虑到妒忌不一定是异性之间的情感。它可能是一种羡慕，对财富、对权力的眼红。就是这种妒忌，使得你们伟大的莎士比亚笔下的伊阿古——以职业的观点来看——用极高明的手段犯了罪。”

“怎么高明法？”我的兴趣被提起来了。

“自己不动手，让别人替他干。在今天，尽管一个坏蛋明明是罪恶之源，但只要他没有具体去干，你就没法把手铐往他手腕上戴。但这不是我们现在要讨论的课题。那么，从任何方面来看，我们的这个案子会不会是妒忌引起的呢？谁有理由妒忌这位小姐呢？如果说是另一个女人，就只有赖斯太太。不过据我们所知，她与尼克之间并无嫌隙。当然，这个推论仅仅立足于（就我们所知）这一点上。可能还有我们不知道的情况。

“最后还有一个动机，惧怕。是不是什么人有把柄落在尼克小姐手中呢？她是否知道了一件对另一个人的生命构成威胁的事情？如果是这样，我们可以准确无误地指出，她本人还没有意识到她已经知道了一个可以置某人于死地的事实。这是可能的，你懂吗？这是可能的。要是果真如此可就麻烦了。因为她是无意中不自觉地掌握着这条线索的，因而她便无法告诉我们这是一条什么线索。”

“你真的以为有这个可能？”

“这只是个假设。当你把其它的可能性都排除了还是找不到理由来说明动机，就只能回到剩下的可能性上面来——既然别的都不是，就一定是这个了……”

他沉默良久。后来他从深思中惊醒过来，取一张纸放在面前动起了笔。

“你写什么？”我好奇地问。

“我的朋友，我要把尼克周围的人列出一张表。如果我的论点正确，凶手必定就在这张表里了。”

他写了大约二十分钟，然后把这张纸推到我面前。

“就是这个，我的朋友。这就是我们所得到的名单。”

这张表是这样的：

一、埃伦

二、她的当园丁的丈夫

三、他们的孩子

四、克罗夫特先生

五、克罗夫特太太

六、赖斯太太

七、拉扎勒斯先生

八、查林杰中校

九、查尔斯·维斯

十、？

评述：

一、埃伦

可疑之处：听到凶杀时的举止言语，制造事故最为方便。最易获悉手枪所在，但破坏汽车一事似非此人所为。且作案之周密果敢也非此人所能企及。

动机：无。除非有尚未被知事件引起之仇恨。

注：进一步查明其身世及与尼克之关系。

二、埃伦之夫

可疑之处及动机同上。但有可能破坏汽车之刹车装置。

注：应与之一谈。

三、埃伦之子

此人尚幼，可排除。

注：应与之一谈以期发现新线索。

四、克罗夫特先生

仅有一可疑之处，即二楼系尼克小姐之卧室，他对与我们相遇的那次上楼之解释是否属实。且对此人之身世一无所知。

动机：无。

五、克罗夫特太太

可疑之处：无。

动机：无。

六、赖斯太太

可疑之处：尼克进屋取衣系应此人要求。想造成尼克系谎言大师之印象。故她对此前发生的那些事故之说法不可信。那些事故发生时此人不在塔维斯托克，在何处不明。

动机：所得？甚微。妒忌？可能，但无法说明。惧怕？可能，但也无法说明。

注：应与尼克就上述几点交换意见或能有所启示。动机是否与赖斯太太之婚事有牵连？

七、拉扎勒斯先生

可疑之处：有犯罪之机会。曾出价买画。认为尼克之汽车并未损坏（赖斯太太语），发生事故期间可能在此附近。

动机：无。除非求画心切。惧怕？不像。

注：查明此人到达圣卢之前在何处。查明拉扎勒斯父子公司之经济状况。

八、查林杰中校

可疑之处：无。但上星期常在此地。有制造事故之良好机会。不过此人于凶杀半小时后方到达悬崖山庄。

动机：无

九、查尔斯·维斯

可疑之处：旅馆花园内枪击尼克时此人不在办公室。有作案之机会。对出售悬崖山庄一事说法可疑。系一内向青年。有可能得悉尼克的手枪一向所在之处。

动机：所得？甚少。爱或恨？有可能。惧怕？不会。

注：查明悬崖山庄系抵押给谁。查明维斯律师事务所之处境。

十、？

此人或系外人，但与前九人中某一人有关。例如：可能与第一、四、五、六有关。此人之存在可为以下几点之一提供解释：

1、埃伦何以对凶杀本身不感意外（但此阶层之妇女对凶杀向来有本能之兴奋感）。

2、克罗夫特夫妇何以租下冷僻之门房小屋。

3、为赖斯太太之恐惧或妒忌提供理由。

当我在看这份名单时，波洛注视着我。

“很地道的英语，不是吗？”他自夸道，“我写的英文比我讲的更有英国味儿。”

“好得很，”我热情地说，“你把各种可能性都罗列得清清楚楚。”

“是呀，”他把那张纸拿回去，若有所思地说，“瞧这个名字，我的朋友。这个查尔斯·维斯，他最有机会作案。在他身上有两种动机可供选择。我相信，如果这是一张赛马会上那些马的名单，在他身上人们会下最大的赌注的。”

“他当然最可疑。”

“你有一个怪脾气，黑斯廷斯，老是情愿去怀疑最不可疑的东西。毫无疑问，是因为你看了太多侦探小说之故。现实生活里，犯罪的人十有八九正是动机最明显，可能性又最大的人。”

“这次也一样吗？”

“只有一个事实不大对头，就是作案的大胆！一开头就是如此。也正因为这个特点我才预言这个案子的动机不会是明显的。”

“对，一开头你就是这么说的。”

“现在我还是这么说。”

突然他把那份名单揉成一团扔在地下。我连忙阻止他，他却说：

“不，这东西没有用处。它只是把我的思绪整理了一下而已。把事实精确扼要地整理一下是第一步。下一步——”

“是什么呢？”

“下一步就是进行分析思考，也就是正确地运用头脑里那些小小的灰色细胞。我劝你，黑斯廷斯，睡觉去吧。”

“不，”我说，“除非你也去睡，否则我不会离开你的。”

“这样的忠诚的确是太感人了。但你看，黑斯廷斯，你无法帮我思考。思考——这就是下一步我要做的事。”

我还是摇摇头。

“你可能会想到要同我讨论一下观点的。”

“啊，啊，你真够朋友。不过，至少请你换一张能坐得舒服一点的沙发吧。”

我同意了。不久，房间里的一切都开始模糊起来。我记得我所看见的最后一件事，就是波洛小心翼翼地把他刚才扔掉的那个纸团从地上拾了起来，随手扔进了废纸篓。

后来我睡着了。