To make this part of my story clear, I append the following plan of the first floor of Styles. The servants' rooms are reached through the door B. They have no communication with the right wing, where the Inglethorps' rooms were situated.

It seemed to be the middle of the night when I was awakened by Lawrence Cavendish. He had a candle in his hand, and the agitation of his face told me at once that something was seriously wrong.

"What's the matter?" I asked, sitting up in bed, and trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

"We are afraid my mother is very ill. She seems to be having some kind of fit. Unfortunately she has locked herself in."

"I'll come at once."

I sprang out of bed; and, pulling on a dressing-gown, followed Lawrence along the passage and the gallery to the right wing of the house.

John Cavendish joined us, and one or two of the servants were standing round in a state of awe-stricken excitement. Lawrence turned to his brother.

"What do you think we had better do?"

Never, I thought, had his indecision of character been more apparent.

John rattled the handle of Mrs. Inglethorp's door violently, but with no effect. It was obviously locked or bolted on the inside. The whole household was aroused by now. The most alarming sounds were audible from the interior of the room. Clearly something must be done.

"Try going through Mr. Inglethorp's room, sir," cried Dorcas. "Oh, the poor mistress!"

Suddenly I realized that Alfred Inglethorp was not with us--that he alone had given no sign of his presence. John opened the door of his room. It was pitch dark, but Lawrence was following with the candle, and by its feeble light we saw that the bed had not been slept in, and that there was no sign of the room having been occupied.

We went straight to the connecting door. That, too, was locked or bolted on the inside. What was to be done?

"Oh, dear, sir," cried Dorcas, wringing her hands, "what ever shall we do?"

"We must try and break the door in, I suppose. It'll be a tough job, though. Here, let one of the maids go down and wake Baily and tell him to go for Dr. Wilkins at once. Now then, we'll have a try at the door. Half a moment, though, isn't there a door into Miss Cynthia's rooms?"

"Yes, sir, but that's always bolted. It's never been undone."

"Well, we might just see."

He ran rapidly down the corridor to Cynthia's room. Mary Cavendish was there, shaking the girl--who must have been an unusually sound sleeper--and trying to wake her.

In a moment or two he was back.

"No good. That's bolted too. We must break in the door. I think this one is a shade less solid than the one in the passage."

We strained and heaved together. The framework of the door was solid, and for a long time it resisted our efforts, but at last we felt it give beneath our weight, and finally, with a resounding crash, it was burst open.

We stumbled in together, Lawrence still holding his candle. Mrs. Inglethorp was lying on the bed, her whole form agitated by violent convulsions, in one of which she must have overturned the table beside her. As we entered, however, her limbs relaxed, and she fell back upon the pillows.

John strode across the room, and lit the gas. Turning to Annie, one of the housemaids, he sent her downstairs to the dining-room for brandy. Then he went across to his mother whilst I unbolted the door that gave on the corridor.

I turned to Lawrence, to suggest that I had better leave them now that there was no further need of my services, but the words were frozen on my lips. Never have I seen such a ghastly look on any man's face. He was white as chalk, the candle he held in his shaking hand was sputtering onto the carpet, and his eyes, petrified with terror, or some such kindred emotion, stared fixedly over my head at a point on the further wall. It was as though he had seen something that turned him to stone. I instinctively followed the direction of his eyes, but I could see nothing unusual. The still feebly flickering ashes in the grate, and the row of prim ornaments on the mantelpiece, were surely harmless enough.

The violence of Mrs. Inglethorp's attack seemed to be passing. She was able to speak in short gasps.

"Better now--very sudden--stupid of me--to lock myself in."

A shadow fell on the bed and, looking up, I saw Mary Cavendish standing near the door with her arm around Cynthia. She seemed to be supporting the girl, who looked utterly dazed and unlike herself. Her face was heavily flushed, and she yawned repeatedly.

"Poor Cynthia is quite frightened," said Mrs. Cavendish in a low clear voice. She herself, I noticed, was dressed in her white land smock. Then it must be later than I thought. I saw that a faint streak of daylight was showing through the curtains of the windows, and that the clock on the mantelpiece pointed to close upon five o'clock.

A strangled cry from the bed startled me. A fresh access of pain seized the unfortunate old lady. The convulsions were of a violence terrible to behold. Everything was confusion. We thronged round her, powerless to help or alleviate. A final convulsion lifted her from the bed, until she appeared to rest upon her head and her heels, with her body arched in an extraordinary manner. In vain Mary and John tried to administer more brandy. The moments flew. Again the body arched itself in that peculiar fashion.

At that moment, Dr. Bauerstein pushed his way authoritatively into the room. For one instant he stopped dead, staring at the figure on the bed, and, at the same instant, Mrs. Inglethorp cried out in a strangled voice, her eyes fixed on the doctor:

"Alfred--Alfred----" Then she fell back motionless on the pillows.

With a stride, the doctor reached the bed, and seizing her arms worked them energetically, applying what I knew to be artificial respiration. He issued a few short sharp orders to the servants. An imperious wave of his hand drove us all to the door. We watched him, fascinated, though I think we all knew in our hearts that it was too late, and that nothing could be done now. I could see by the expression on his face that he himself had little hope.

Finally he abandoned his task, shaking his head gravely. At that moment, we heard footsteps outside, and Dr. Wilkins, Mrs. Inglethorp's own doctor, a portly, fussy little man, came bustling in.

In a few words Dr. Bauerstein explained how he had happened to be passing the lodge gates as the car came out, and had run up to the house as fast as he could, whilst the car went on to fetch Dr. Wilkins. With a faint gesture of the hand, he indicated the figure on the bed.

"Ve--ry sad. Ve--ry sad," murmured Dr. Wilkins. "Poor dear lady. Always did far too much--far too much--against my advice. I warned her. Her heart was far from strong. 'Take it easy,' I said to her, 'Take--it--easy'. But no--her zeal for good works was too great. Nature rebelled. Na--ture--re--belled."

Dr. Bauerstein, I noticed, was watching the local doctor narrowly. He still kept his eyes fixed on him as he spoke.

"The convulsions were of a peculiar violence, Dr. Wilkins. I am sorry you were not here in time to witness them. They were quite--tetanic in character."

"Ah!" said Dr. Wilkins wisely.

"I should like to speak to you in private," said Dr. Bauerstein. He turned to John. "You do not object?"

"Certainly not."

We all trooped out into the corridor, leaving the two doctors alone, and I heard the key turned in the lock behind us.

We went slowly down the stairs. I was violently excited. I have a certain talent for deduction, and Dr. Bauerstein's manner had started a flock of wild surmises in my mind. Mary Cavendish laid her hand upon my arm.

"What is it? Why did Dr. Bauerstein seem so--peculiar?"

I looked at her.

"Do you know what I think?"

"What?"

"Listen!" I looked round, the others were out of earshot. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "I believe she has been poisoned! I'm certain Dr. Bauerstein suspects it."

"_What_?" She shrank against the wall, the pupils of her eyes dilating wildly. Then, with a sudden cry that startled me, she cried out: "No, no--not that--not that!" And breaking from me, fled up the stairs. I followed her, afraid that she was going to faint. I found her leaning against the bannisters, deadly pale. She waved me away impatiently.

"No, no--leave me. I'd rather be alone. Let me just be quiet for a minute or two. Go down to the others."

I obeyed her reluctantly. John and Lawrence were in the dining-room. I joined them. We were all silent, but I suppose I voiced the thoughts of us all when I at last broke it by saying:

"Where is Mr. Inglethorp?"

John shook his head.

"He's not in the house."

Our eyes met. Where _was_ Alfred Inglethorp? His absence was strange and inexplicable. I remembered Mrs. Inglethorp's dying words. What lay beneath them? What more could she have told us, if she had had time?

At last we heard the doctors descending the stairs. Dr. Wilkins was looking important and excited, and trying to conceal an inward exultation under a manner of decorous calm. Dr. Bauerstein remained in the background, his grave bearded face unchanged. Dr. Wilkins was the spokesman for the two. He addressed himself to John:

"Mr. Cavendish, I should like your consent to a postmortem."

"Is that necessary?" asked John gravely. A spasm of pain crossed his face.

"Absolutely," said Dr. Bauerstein.

"You mean by that----?"

"That neither Dr. Wilkins nor myself could give a death certificate under the circumstances."

John bent his head.

"In that case, I have no alternative but to agree."

"Thank you," said Dr. Wilkins briskly. "We propose that it should take place to-morrow night--or rather to-night." And he glanced at the daylight. "Under the circumstances, I am afraid an inquest can hardly be avoided--these formalities are necessary, but I beg that you won't distress yourselves."

There was a pause, and then Dr. Bauerstein drew two keys from his pocket, and handed them to John.

"These are the keys of the two rooms. I have locked them and, in my opinion, they would be better kept locked for the present."

The doctors then departed.

I had been turning over an idea in my head, and I felt that the moment had now come to broach it. Yet I was a little chary of doing so. John, I knew, had a horror of any kind of publicity, and was an easygoing optimist, who preferred never to meet trouble half-way. It might be difficult to convince him of the soundness of my plan. Lawrence, on the other hand, being less conventional, and having more imagination, I felt I might count upon as an ally. There was no doubt that the moment had come for me to take the lead.

"John," I said, "I am going to ask you something."

"Well?"

"You remember my speaking of my friend Poirot? The Belgian who is here? He has been a most famous detective."

"Yes."

"I want you to let me call him in--to investigate this matter."

"What--now? Before the post-mortem?"

"Yes, time is an advantage if--if--there has been foul play."

"Rubbish!" cried Lawrence angrily. "In my opinion the whole thing is a mare's nest of Bauerstein's! Wilkins hadn't an idea of such a thing, until Bauerstein put it into his head. But, like all specialists, Bauerstein's got a bee in his bonnet. Poisons are his hobby, so of course he sees them everywhere."

I confess that I was surprised by Lawrence's attitude. He was so seldom vehement about anything.

John hesitated.

"I can't feel as you do, Lawrence," he said at last. "I'm inclined to give Hastings a free hand, though I should prefer to wait a bit. We don't want any unnecessary scandal."

"No, no," I cried eagerly, "you need have no fear of that. Poirot is discretion itself."

"Very well, then, have it your own way. I leave it in your hands. Though, if it is as we suspect, it seems a clear enough case. God forgive me if I am wronging him!"

I looked at my watch. It was six o'clock. I determined to lose no time.

Five minutes' delay, however, I allowed myself. I spent it in ransacking the library until I discovered a medical book which gave a description of strychnine poisoning.

为了使我这个故事的这部分清楚一点，我特地附上下面这张斯泰尔斯庄园二楼的平面图。经过B门通向佣人的房间。它们和英格里桑夫妇的房间所在的右侧屋并不相通。

糟糕的是她偏偏把自己锁在里面。”

“我马上就来。”

我急忙跳下床，套上晨衣，跟着劳伦斯沿过道和长廊直奔房子的右侧。

约翰·卡文迪什也来了，还有一两个佣人也又敬畏又激动地站在周围。劳伦斯转脸对他的哥哥说：

“你看我们怎么办好？”

我认为，他的那种优柔寡断的性格从来没有象现在这样更为明显。

约翰使劲地把英格里桑太大的房门把手弄得格格作响，可是毫无结果。显然，是在里面锁上或者闩住了。现在全家人都被唤醒了。可以听到从房里传出来的令人极为惊恐的声音。很清楚，一定出什么事了。

“通过英格里桑先生的房间试试，先生，”多卡斯大声嚷道。“哎呀，可怜的女主人啊！”

我突然想到阿弗雷德·英格里桑没有在场——只有他连个影子也看不见。约翰打开了他的房门。房里漆黑一团，劳伦斯举着蜡烛跟了进来，凭着那微弱的烛光，我们发现，他的床没有睡过人，房里也看不出有人待过的迹象。

我们迳直走近和隔壁房间相通的门。可是里面也是锁上或者闩住了。怎么办呢？

“哎呀，天哪，先生！”多卡斯喊了起来，使劲捏着自己的手。“这可怎么办呀？”

“我看，我们得设法撬开门进去，尽管这种方法粗暴。喂，去个侍女，下楼去把贝利叫醒，要他马上去把威尔金斯医生请来。来，我们想法把门弄开。不，等一等，通辛西娅小姐的房间不是有扇门的吗？”

“是的，先生，可是那扇门一直闩住的，从来没有开过。

“好吧，我们先去看看。”

他飞快地沿过道奔向辛西娅的房间。玛丽·卡文迪什已在那儿，她正在摇那姑娘，试图把她弄醒，这姑娘偏偏睡得这么沉。

过了一会，他回来了。

“糟糕。那扇门也闩住的。我们还是撬进去。我看这一扇比过道里那扇要稍微不牢一点。”

我们一起使劲猛撞。门框很牢，我们花了很长时间，费了很大的劲，也没能撞进。后来，我们发现在我们的猛撞下，它毕竟支持不住了，终于很响地嘎啦一声，被撞开了。

我们一块儿跌跌绊绊地走进房间，劳伦斯手中仍旧举着那支蜡烛。英格里桑太太躺在床上，由于剧烈的痉挛，她的整个身子都在颤动，有一次想必是把身旁的桌子都给翻倒了。可是，我们一进去，她的四肢就松弛了下来，倒回到枕头上。

约翰大步走过房间，点亮了汽灯。接着，他转向侍女安妮，要她立刻到餐室去把白兰地取来。然后他走到母亲床边，我则去打开了通向过道的那扇门的门闩。

我转脸朝向劳伦斯，本想提出，现在已不再需要我帮忙，我还是离开比较好。可是话到口边又止住了。我从来没有在什么人的脸上见到这样惨白的脸色，他白得就象白垩土，握在他那直打颤的手中的蜡烛，烛油都溅到了地毯上，而他的一双眼睛，由于惊恐，或者是由于某种与此类似的感情，定着神，越过我的头顶呆呆地盯着远处墙上的一点。他仿佛看到了使他变成石头的什么东西。我本能地朝他两眼注视的方向着丢，可是什么特别的东西也没看见。壁炉里仍在微微闪烁的灰烬，炉台上成排整洁的礼拜用品，看来是决不会有害的。

英格里桑太太发病的严重时刻似乎正在过去，她能够急促地喘着气说话了。

“现在好些了——十分突然——我真傻——把自己锁在房里。”

一道影子投落在床上，我抬头一看，只见玛丽·卡文迪什站在门边，一只手臂围着辛西娅的腰。她似乎正竭力扶住这姑娘。姑娘看上去完全迷迷糊糊的，不象她原来的样子。她的脸色通红，不断地打着哈欠。

“可怜的辛西娅吓坏了，”卡文迪什太太清晰地低声说。她自己，我发现，则穿着一件干活时穿的白色工作服。时间，比我所想象的迟了一点。我看到一道朦胧晨曦透过窗帷，壁炉台上的时钟已快指到五点。

床上发出的一声窒息住的惨叫使我大吃一惊。疼痛重又侵袭了这位不幸的老太太。她痉挛得十分厉害，看着实在骇人，什么都乱成一团。我们拥挤在她的周围，可是无能为力，没法帮助她，或者减轻她的痛苦，最后，痉挛使得她从床上抬起身，直到用头和脚跟把她顶了起来，使她的身子奇怪地弯成弓形。玛丽和约翰白费力气地试图给她灌进更多的白兰地。过了一会，她的身子重又弯成了那种奇怪的样子。

就在这时候，鲍斯坦医生权威地挤开众人，走进了房间。他突然一动不动地站住了，注视着床上躯体的形状，而就在这一刹那间，英格里桑太太两眼盯着医生，用一种窒息住的声音叫道：

“阿弗雷德——阿弗雷德——”接着就住后一头倒在枕头上，一动不动了。

医生猛地一步跨到床前，抓住她的两臂，使劲把它们牵动着，我知道，这是在施行人工呼吸。他对佣人们下了几道简短严厉的命令，专横地挥动着一只手，把我们大家都赶到了门口。我们呆呆地盯着他，尽管我想我们大家心里都明白，已经太迟了，现在已经毫无办法。我从他脸上的表情，也可以着出，他自己也认为希望已经很小。

最后，他终于放弃了自己的急救工作，心情沉重地摇了摇头。就在这时，我们听到了门外响起的脚步声，英格里桑太太的私人医生威尔金斯急匆匆地走了进来，这是个肥胖的爱唠叨的矮个子。

鲍斯坦医生解释了几句，说是汽车开出去时，他恰好经过庄园的大门，于是他就尽快地跑到这幢房子里来，而让汽车继续去接威尔金斯医生。他用一种无力的手势指了指躺在床上的人。

“实——在——令人悲痛。实——在——令人悲痛，”威尔金斯医生咕哝着说，“可怜的太太哟，老是得做那么多工作——实在大多了——不听我的劝告。我早就告诫过她。她的心脏远不是健康的。‘不能紧张，’我曾对她说，‘不——能——紧张’。可是她没有办到，——她对各项慈善事业的热情太高了。脾气又倔强。脾——气——倔——强——啊。”

我发觉，鲍斯坦医生一直严密地注视着这位本地医生。在他说话的时候，他仍两眼紧紧地盯着他。

“老太太痉挛时的剧烈程度实在罕见，威尔金斯医生。我感到很遗憾，你没能及时赶到来亲眼目睹一下。那在性质上完全是一种强直性的痉挛。”

“啊！”威尔金斯医生聪明地答应了一声。

“我想和你个别谈一谈，”鲍斯坦医生说。接着他转脸朝向约翰，问道：“你不反对吗？”

“当然不反对。”

我们全部走到过道里，单单留下两位医生，我听到房门在我们身后锁上了。

我们慢慢地走下楼梯。我感到非常激动。我具有一种推理的才能。鲍斯坦医生的态度引起了我脑子里一大堆漫无边际的猜测。玛丽·卡文迪什把她的一只手搭在了我的手臂上。

“这是怎么回事？为什么鲍斯坦医生的举动着上去这么——怪？”

我瞧着她。

“你知道我在想什么吗？”

“想什么呢？”

“听我说！”我朝四周看了看，别的入都离开一段距离，不会听见。我压低声音，悄声说：“我认为她是被毒死的！我确信鲍斯坦医生对此已经有怀疑了。”

“什么？”她畏缩地倚在墙上，两眼慌乱地睁着。接着，她使我大吃一惊地突然喊了起来，大声嚷道：”不，不——不是那么回事——不是那么回事！”并且从我身边跑开，逃上楼去。我紧跟着她，生怕她马上会昏倒。我发现她靠在栏杆上，面如死色。她不耐烦地挥手，要我马上走开。

“别来，别来——离开我。我宁愿一个人待在这儿。就让我安静一会儿吧。下去，到旁的人那儿去。”我勉强地听从了她的话。约翰和劳伦斯在餐室里，我也走了进去。我们都默不作声，可是当我终于打破了这种沉默开口说话时，我猜想我说出了我们大伙的想法。

“英格里桑先生在哪儿？”

约翰摇摇头。

“他不在家。”

我们的目光相遇了。阿弗雷德·英格里桑在哪儿？他的不在场是很奇怪的，也是令人费解的。我想起了英格里桑太太临终时的话。那下面是什么？要是她还有时间的话。他还要告诉我们什么呢？

终于，我们听到了医生走下楼来。威尔金斯医生看上去既沉重，又激动，可他还是试图把内心的激动隐藏在有教养的镇静的风度之下。鲍斯但医生跟随在背后，他那张阴沉的、长着胡子的脸没有汪河变化。威尔金斯医生是他们俩的发言人。他对约翰说：

“卡文迪什先生，我希望你同意进行尸体解剖。”

“有必要吗？”约翰严肃地问道，他的脸上掠过一阵痛苦的表情。

“绝对有必要，”鲍斯坦医生说。

“你们这样说的意思是——？”

“因为在这样的情况下，不管是威尔主斯医生还是我本人，都不能开给死亡证明。”

约翰屈服了。

“既然是那样，我除了同意之外别无选择了。”

“谢谢，”威尔金斯医生轻松地回答说。“我们建议应该在明天晚上——或者就在今天晚上进行。”他朝黎明的曙光瞥了一眼。“在这样的情况下，我看恐怕一场审讯几乎已经不可避免——这样的手续是需要的，只是请你自己不要因此而悲痛。”

停了一会，接着鲍斯坦医生从口袋掏出两只钥匙。交给了约翰。

“这是那个房间的钥匙。我已经把它们锁上了。我看，暂时还是锁上的好。”

两位医生接着都离开了。

我的脑子里翻腾着一个想法，我觉得此刻可以把提出来加以讨论。然而，我又有点伯这样做。我知道，约翰最怕的是把事情传开去。而且他是个悠闲惯了的乐天派，从来就不愿在半路上碰到麻烦事。要使他相信我的计划是完善的，困难也许就在这里。另一方面，劳伦斯又是个少循常规，多具幻想的人。我觉得，我可以算作是个助手。毫无疑问，现在得我来领这个头了。

“约翰，”我说，“我打算问你一下。”

“什么事？”

“你还记得我和你谈过我的朋友波洛吧？你记不记得这个比利时人就在这儿？他是一位最有名的侦探呢！”

“是啊。”

“我要你让我现在就去把他请来——请他来调查这件事情。”

“什么——现在？验尸以前？”

“是的，假如——假如——这确实是一桩暴行，时间上愈快愈好。”

“胡扯！”劳伦斯生气地大声嚷道。“依我看，这全是鲍斯坦骗人的鬼花样！威尔金斯并没有这种想法。是鲍斯坦把这塞进他的脑袋的。可是，象所有的专家一样，鲍斯但的神经也是有点不正常的。毒药是他的癖好。因此在他看来到处都是毒药。”

我承认，我对劳伦斯的这种态度感到诧异，他是个对任何事情都难得这么动感情的人呀。

约翰犹豫着。

“我的看法和你不一样，劳伦斯，”他终于说了。

“我赞成让哈斯丁放手处理这件事，不过我宁愿再等一等，我们不要为此招来不必要的流言蜚语。”

“不，不，”我急切地大声说，“这你用不着担心。波洛做事是非常谨慎的。”

“那很好，那就听你的便吧，我把这件事交托给你啦。不过，要是事情真象我们所怀疑的那样，这可是桩十分清楚的案件。要是我冤枉了他的话，上帝会宽恕我的！”

我看了着表，已经六点钟。我决定不再浪费时间。然而，我还是容许自己耽搁了五分钟。我用这时间在藏书室里仔细寻找，直到找到一本叙述士的宁①的毒性的书。

注释：

①或称马钱子碱，一种烈性毒药，用极微量可以刺激神经。