chapter 1 a theatrical party

the memory of the public is short. already the intense interest and excitement aroused by the murder of george alfred st vincent marsh, fourth baron edgware, is a thing past and forgotten. newer sensations have taken its place.

my friend, hercule poirot, was never openly mentioned in connection with the case. this, i may say, was entirely in accordance with his own wishes. he did not choose to appear in it. the credit went elsewhere – and that is how he wished it to be. moreover, from poirot’s own peculiar private point of view, the case was one of his failures. he always swears that it was the chance remark of a stranger in the street that put him on the right track.

however that may be, it was his genius that discovered the truth of the affair. but for hercule poirot i doubt if the crime would have been brought home to its perpetrator.

i feel therefore that the time has come for me to set down all i know of the affair in black and white. i know the ins and outs of the case thoroughly and i may also mention that i shall be fulfilling the wishes of a very fascinating lady in so doing.

i have often recalled that day in poirot’s prim neat little sitting-room when, striding up and down a particular strip of carpet, my little friend gave us his masterly and astounding résumé of the case. i am going to begin my narrative where he did on that occasion – at a london theatre in june of last year.

carlotta adams was quite the rage in london at that moment. the year before she had given a couple of matinees which had been a wild success. this year she had had a three weeks’ season of which this was the last night but one.

carlotta adams was an american girl with the most amazing talent for single-handed sketches unhampered by make-up or scenery. she seemed to speak every language with ease. her sketch of an evening in a foreign hotel was really wonderful. in turn, american tourists, german tourists, middle-class english families, questionable ladies, impoverished russian aristocrats and weary discreet waiters all flitted across the scene.

her sketches went from grave to gay and back again. her dying czecho-slovakian woman in hospital brought a lump to the throat. a minute later we were rocking with laughter as a dentist plied his trade and chatted amiably with his victims.

her programme closed with what she announced as ‘some imitations’.

here again, she was amazingly clever. without make-up of any kind, her features seemed to dissolve suddenly and reform themselves into those of a famous politician, or a well-known actress, or a society beauty. in each character she gave a short typical speech. these speeches, by the way, were remarkably clever. they seemed to hit off every weakness of the subject selected.

one of her last impersonations was jane wilkinson – a talented young american actress well known in london. it was really very clever. inanities slipped off her tongue charged with some powerful emotional appeal so that in spite of yourself you felt that each word was uttered with some potent and fundamental meaning. her voice, exquisitely toned, with a deep husky note in it, was intoxicating. the restrained gestures, each strangely significant, the slightly swaying body, the impression even, of strong physical beauty – how she did it, i cannot think!

i had always been an admirer of the beautiful jane wilkinson. she had thrilled me in her emotional parts, and i had always maintained in face of those who admitted her beauty but declared she was no actress, that she had considerable histrionic powers.

it was a little uncanny to hear that well-known, slightly husky voice with the fatalistic drop in it that had stirred me so often, and to watch that seemingly poignant gesture of the slowly closing and unclosing hand, and the sudden throw back of the head with the hair shaken back from the face that i realized she always gave at the close of a dramatic scene.

jane wilkinson was one of those actresses who had left the stage on her marriage only to return to it a couple of years later.

three years ago she had married the wealthy but slightly eccentric lord edgware. rumour went that she left him shortly afterwards. at any rate eighteen months after the marriage, she was acting for the films in america, and had this season appeared in a successful play in london.

watching carlotta adams’ clever but perhaps slightly malicious imitation, it occurred to me to wonder how much imitations were regarded by the subject selected. were they pleased at the notoriety – at the advertisement it afforded? or were they annoyed at what was, after all, a deliberate exposing of the tricks of their trade? was not carlotta adams in the position of the rival conjurer who says: ‘oh! this is an old trick! very simple. i’ll show you how this one’s done!’

i decided that if i were the subject in question, i should be very much annoyed. i should, of course, conceal my vexation, but decidedly i should not like it. one would need great broadmindedness and a distinct sense of humour to appreciate such a merciless exposé.

i had just arrived at these conclusions when the delightful husky laugh from the stage was echoed from behind me.

i turned my head sharply. in the seat immediately behind mine, leaning forward with her lips slightly parted, was the subject of the present imitation – lady edgware, better known as jane wilkinson.

i realized immediately that my deductions had been all wrong. she was leaning forward, her lips parted, with an expression of delight and excitement in her eyes.

as the ‘imitation’ finished, she applauded loudly, laughing and turning to her companion, a tall extremely good-looking man, of the greek god type, whose face i recognized as one better known on the screen than on the stage. it was bryan martin, the hero of the screen most popular at the moment. he and jane wilkinson had been starred together in several screen productions.

‘marvellous, isn’t she?’ lady edgware was saying.

he laughed.

‘jane – you look all excited.’

‘well, she really is too wonderful! heaps better than i thought she’d be.’

i did not catch bryan martin’s amused rejoinder. carlotta adams had started on a fresh improvisation.

what happened later is, i shall always think, a very curious coincidence.

after the theatre, poirot and i went on to supper at the savoy.

at the very next table to ours were lady edgware, bryan martin and two other people whom i did not know. i pointed them out to poirot and, as i was doing so, another couple came and took their places at the table beyond that again. the woman’s face was familiar and yet strangely enough, for the moment i could not place it.

then suddenly i realized that it was carlotta adams at whom i was staring! the man i did not know. he was well-groomed, with a cheerful, somewhat vacuous face. not a type that i admire.

carlotta adams was dressed very inconspicuously in black. hers was not a face to command instant attention or recognition. it was one of those mobile sensitive faces that preeminently lend themselves to the art of mimicry. it could take on an alien character easily, but it had no very recognizable character of its own.

i imparted these reflections of mine to poirot. he listened attentively, his egg-shaped head cocked slightly to one side whilst he darted a sharp glance at the two tables in question.

‘so that is lady edgware? yes, i remember – i have seen her act. she is belle femme.’

‘and a fine actress too.’

‘possibly.’

‘you don’t seem convinced.’

‘i think it would depend on the setting, my friend. if she is the centre of the play, if all revolves round her – yes, then she could play her part. i doubt if she could play a small part adequately or even what is called a character part. the play must be written about her and for her. she appears to me of the type of women who are interested only in themselves.’ he paused and then added rather unexpectedly: ‘such people go through life in great danger.’

‘danger?’ i said, surprised.

‘i have used a word that surprises you, i see, mon ami. yes, danger. because, you see, a woman like that sees only one thing – herself. such women see nothing of the dangers and hazards that surround them – the million conflicting interests and relationships of life. no, they see only their own forward path. and so – sooner or later – disaster.’

i was interested. i confessed to myself that such a point of view would not have struck me.

‘and the other?’ i asked.

‘miss adams?’

his gaze swept to her table.

‘well?’ he said, smiling. ‘what do you want me to say about her?’

‘only how she strikes you.’

‘mon cher, am i tonight the fortune-teller who reads the palm and tells the character?’

‘you could do it better than most,’ i rejoined.

‘it is a very pretty faith that you have in me, hastings. it touches me. do you not know, my friend, that each one of us is a dark mystery, a maze of conflicting passions and desires and attitudes? mais oui, c’est vrai. one makes one’s little judgments – but nine times out of ten one is wrong.’

‘not hercule poirot,’ i said, smiling.

‘even hercule poirot! oh! i know very well that you have always a little idea that i am conceited, but, indeed, i assure you, i am really a very humble person.’

i laughed.

‘you – humble!’

‘it is so. except – i confess it – that i am a little proud of my moustaches. nowhere in london have i observed anything to compare with them.’

‘you are quite safe,’ i said dryly. ‘you won’t. so you are not going to risk judgment on carlotta adams?’

‘elle est artiste! ’ said poirot simply. ‘that covers nearly all, does it not?’

‘anyway, you don’t consider that she walks through life in peril?’

‘we all do that, my friend,’ said poirot gravely. ‘misfortune may always be waiting to rush out upon us. but as to your question, miss adams, i think, will succeed. she is shrewd and she is something more. you observed without doubt that she is a jewess?’

i had not. but now that he mentioned it, i saw the faint traces of semitic ancestry. poirot nodded.

‘it makes for success – that. though there is still one avenue of danger – since it is of danger we are talking.’

‘you mean?’

‘love of money. love of money might lead such a one from the prudent and cautious path.’

‘it might do that to all of us,’ i said.

‘that is true, but at any rate you or i would see the danger involved. we could weigh the pros and cons. if you care for money too much, it is only the money you see, everything else is in shadow.’

i laughed at his serious manner.

‘esmeralda, the gipsy queen, is in good form,’ i remarked teasingly.

‘the psychology of character is interesting,’ returned poirot unmoved. ‘one cannot be interested in crime without being interested in psychology. it is not the mere act of killing, it is what lies behind it that appeals to the expert. you follow me, hastings?’

i said that i followed him perfectly.

‘i have noticed that when we work on a case together, you are always urging me on to physical action, hastings. you wish me to measure footprints, to analyse cigarette-ash, to prostrate myself on my stomach for the examination of detail. you never realize that by lying back in an arm-chair with the eyes closed one can come nearer to the solution of any problem. one sees then with the eyes of the mind.’

‘i don’t,’ i said. ‘when i lie back in an arm-chair with my eyes closed one thing happens to me and one thing only!’

‘i have noticed it!’ said poirot. ‘it is strange. at such moments the brain should be working feverishly, not sinking into sluggish repose. the mental activity, it is so interesting, so stimulating! the employment of the little grey cells is a mental pleasure. they and they only can be trusted to lead one through fog to the truth . . .’

i am afraid that i have got into the habit of averting my attention whenever poirot mentions his little grey cells. i have heard it all so often before.

in this instance my attention wandered to the four people sitting at the next table. when poirot’s monologue drew to a close i remarked with a chuckle:

‘you have made a hit, poirot. the fair lady edgware can hardly take her eyes off you.’

‘doubtless she has been informed of my identity,’ said poirot, trying to look modest and failing.

‘i think it is the famous moustaches,’ i said. ‘she is carried away by their beauty.’

poirot caressed them surreptitiously.

‘it is true that they are unique,’ he admitted. ‘oh, my friend, the “tooth-brush” as you call it, that you wear – it is a horror – an atrocity – a wilful stunting of the bounties of nature. abandon it, my friend, i pray of you.’

‘by jove,’ i said, disregarding poirot’s appeal. ‘the lady’s getting up. i believe she’s coming to speak to us. bryan martin is protesting, but she won’t listen to him.’

sure enough, jane wilkinson swept impetuously from her seat and came over to our table. poirot rose to his feet bowing, and i rose also.

‘m. hercule poirot, isn’t it?’ said the soft husky voice.

‘at your service.’

‘m. poirot, i want to talk to you. i must talk to you.’

‘but certainly, madame, will you not sit down?’

‘no, no, not here. i want to talk to you privately. we’ll go right upstairs to my suite.’

bryan martin had joined her, he spoke now with a deprecating laugh.

‘you must wait a little, jane. we’re in the middle of supper. so is m. poirot.’

but jane wilkinson was not so easily turned from her purpose.

‘why, bryan, what does that matter? we’ll have supper sent up to the suite. speak to them about it, will you? and, bryan –’

she went after him as he was turning away and appeared to urge some course upon him. he stood out about it, i gathered, shaking his head and frowning. but she spoke even more emphatically and finally with a shrug of the shoulders he gave way.

once or twice during her speech to him she had glanced at the table where carlotta adams sat, and i wondered if what she were suggesting had anything to do with the american girl.

her point gained, jane came back, radiant.

‘we’ll go right up now,’ she said, and included me in a dazzling smile.

the question of our agreeing or not agreeing to her plan didn’t seem to occur to her mind. she swept us off without a shade of apology.

‘it’s the greatest luck just seeing you here this evening, m. poirot,’ she said as she led the way to the lift. ‘it’s wonderful how everything seems to turn out right for me. i’d just been thinking and wondering what on earth i was going to do and i looked up and there you were at the next table, and i said to myself: “m. poirot will tell me what to do.”’

she broke off to say ‘second floor’ to the lift-boy.

‘if i can be of aid to you –’ began poirot.

‘i’m sure you can. i’ve heard you’re just the most marvellous man that ever existed. somebody’s got to get me out of the tangle i’m in and i feel you’re just the man to do it.’

we got out at the second floor and she led the way along the corridor, paused at a door and entered one of the most opulent of the savoy suites.

casting her white fur wrap on one chair, and her small jewelled bag on the table, the actress sank on to a chair and exclaimed:

‘m. poirot, somehow or other i’ve just got to get rid of my husband!’

第一章 戏剧表演舞会

公众的记忆力是短暂的。曾几何时。埃奇韦尔男爵四世—乔治·艾尔弗雷德·圣文森特·马什被害一案引起巨大轰动和好奇，而今一切已成旧事，皆被遗忘，取而代之的是更新的轰动一时的消息。

人们谈起这案子时从未公开说及我的朋友—赫尔克里·波洛。我得说，这全都是由于他本人的意愿。他自己不想出现在案子里。也正如他本人所希望的，功劳就算到别人头上。更何况。按照波洛自己独特的观点，这案子是他的一个失败。他总是发誓说：是在街头偶然听到的路人的话使他找到正确线索的。

不论怎样，正是因为他的天才，案件才得以查得水落石出。要不是赫尔克里·波洛，我真怀疑案子是否能真相大白。凶手是否能找出来。

因此我觉得现在该是我白纸黑字把我知道的一切写出来的时候了。我知道整个案子的来龙去脉，另外我这样做将能满足一位非常迷人的女士的心愿。

我常常回忆起那天在波洛的那间整洁的客厅里，我这位身材不高的朋友一边在地毯上踱来踱去，一边给我们巧妙而又令人惊讶地叙述案件经过。我准备从他那次开始叙述的地方说起。那是去年六月，在伦敦的一家剧院里。

那时卡洛塔·亚当斯在伦敦正风靡一时。在前一年她曾连续演出几个日场，大获成功。今年她连续演了三星期，那天的演出正是倒数第二个夜场。

卡洛塔·亚当斯是一位美国女子。在独角戏表演方面有令人惊叹的才能，她的表演可以不受化装或布景的限制。她似乎任何语言都讲得流畅自如。她的关于《外国旅馆一夜》的表演更是妙不可言——美国游人、德国游人、中产阶级的英国家庭、行迹可疑的女子、贫穷的俄国贯族以及倦怠少言的侍者，被她一一演来，诩诩如生。

她的表情时而高兴，时而悲哀，不断反复。她所表演的医院里濒临死亡的捷克斯洛伐克女子令人哽咽。而片刻之后她所表演的一边给病人拔牙一边和病人聊天的牙科医生又让我们笑得前仰后合。

她最后是以被她自己叫做“人物模仿表演”的节目结束她的表演。

她又一次表现出令人惊讶的伶俐。不用任何化装。她的容貌特征似乎突然消失了，后又突然转变为一个著名的政客。或者一个出名的演员，者一位交际花的面貌。她在表演每一位人物时都会加人一段简短且具代表性的讲话。这些讲话也都是相当聪明的，乎能简洁明了地表述出所选人物的要害之处。

她最后扮演的人物是简。威尔金森——一位在伦敦很出名的极有天赋的美国青年女演员。模仿表演的确很绝妙。无意义的话从她的口里说出来便带有强烈的感染力，你听后会不由自主地觉得她所说的每一个词都含有深远的令人折服的意义。她说话音调精巧，带有一种低沉沙哑的调子。听起来令人陶醉。她每一种带有奇特的意味的矜持的姿态、她微微摇曳的身姿以及她的健美给人留下的印象等等，真难以想象她是怎样获得如此成功的！

我一直是美丽的简·威尔金森的崇拜者。她感情丰富的表演令我激动。面对那些认为她是美女但不是好演员的人我总是强调她有相当强的表演能力。

听着她那为人所熟悉的带有宿命论口气、略微沙哑的声音，的感觉是奇妙的。我就是经常为此而激动。看着她那极有力度的手指时而慢慢张开，而合拢，突然一甩。头发也随之滑过面庞，知道表演结束时她总是这样。

一些女演员结婚了便离开舞台，过了几年又回来了，。威尔金森就属于这一类。

三年之前她嫁给了富有但略微古怪的埃奇韦尔男爵。人们遥传她很快就离开了他。不管怎么说结婚十八个月后她又开始在美国拍电影了。现在又在伦敦出演一部很成功的戏剧。

看着卡洛塔·亚当斯的伶俐但似乎又略带恶意的模仿，突然想被模仿者会怎么看。他们对这种扬名和宣传会开心吗？或许很恼怒，为毕竟是在有意暴露他们的做事技巧。卡洛塔·亚当斯难道不是在向对手示威：“噢！这是旧把戏！非常简单。我来露一手给你们看！”

我的结论是，如果我是当事人，我会很生气。当然我会掩饰一下我的恼怒，但我肯定不喜欢。一个人如果想对这种毫不留情的揭露表示赞赏，真需要宽广的胸怀和杰出的幽默感。

我刚刚这样想完，我后面传来舞台上的那种沙哑的笑声。

我猛一回头，原来目前的被模仿者——埃奇韦尔夫人（不过简·威尔金森这名字更为人所知）双唇微开，身体前倾着，就坐在我后面。

我立刻意识到我的想法完全错误。她的眼里透露着喜悦和兴奋。

“模仿表演”结束了，她大声地鼓着掌，笑着转向他的同伴。她的同伴身材高大，相貌属希腊美男子型，极为英俊。我认识这面孔，他在电影里比在舞台上更知名些。

他的名字叫布赖恩·马丁，是当时最走红的电影名星。他和简·威尔金森在好几部电影里联袂出演。

“她真是棒极了，不是吗？”埃奇韦尔夫人说。

他大笑。“简，你看起来很激动。”

“是的，她真是太棒了，比我想象的要好得多！”

我没有听清布赖恩。马丁的回答，因为卡洛塔·亚当斯又开始了新的即兴表演。

而后发生的一切，我总是认为，是令人惊异的巧合。看完剧后波洛和我去萨伏依饭店吃饭。

埃奇韦尔夫人、布赖恩·马丁和另两位我不认识的人就坐我们邻座。我把他们指给波洛看，就在这时又有一对走进来坐在他们的邻座。其中的女士很面善，但在那时我说不出她到底是谁。

突然我意识到我正盯着看的女士是卡洛塔·亚当斯！那位男士我不认识。他穿着得体，表现得很快乐，但面部表情很空洞。他不属于我喜欢的类型。

卡洛塔·亚当斯穿着极不显眼的黑色衣服。她的面容不很起眼。不易被立刻认出。正是这种精巧易变的面容更利于她的模仿表演。它可以很容易让人认为他是外国人，同时隐去自己的特征。

我向波洛讲了我的这些想法。他椭圆形的脑袋微微偏到一边，仔细地听着我的话，锐利的目光投向这两桌的人们。

“那就是埃奇韦尔夫人？是的，我看过她的表演。她是一位美人。”

“也是一位好演员。”

“有可能。”

“你似乎不赞同。”

“我认为这要取决于背景，我的朋友。如果她是剧的中心人物，是的，如果一切都是围绕她，她就能演出她的角色。我怀疑她是否能把一个小角色，或者性格型角色，演得恰到好处。剧本必须是围绕她并为她而写。给我的感觉是她只对自己感兴趣。”他停了停，突然令人出乎意料地加了一句，“这样的人在生活中很危险。”

“危险？”我惊讶地问。

“我明白，我用了一个令你惊讶的词，我的朋友，是的，危险。你知道，这样的妇女只能看到一样东西一她自己。此类妇女对四周潜伏的危机——生活中错综复杂的利益关系视而不见。不，她们也能看到些东西，即她们的前进之路。那么终点。或早或晚，是灾难。”

我对他的话很感兴趣，说实话，我自己是没有这种见解的。

“那么，另外一个呢？”

“亚当斯小姐？”

他的目光扫向她那桌。

“怎么？”他笑着说。“你要我说她什么？”

“讲讲她是怎样打动你的？”

“我亲爱的。难道我今晚成了看手相、谈他人性格的算命先生吗？”

“你能比大多数算命先生算得更准。”我回答道。

“你真是太相信我了，黑斯廷斯。我很感动。我的朋友，你知道我们每一个人都是一团谜——由矛盾复杂的激情、欲望和态势构成的迷宫。当然是的，这是真的。我们自己做出的判断，十有八九是错的。”

“但不包括赫尔克里·波洛。”我笑着说。

“也包括赫尔克里·波洛。我知道你总觉得我自负，但实际上。我跟你说，我是个很谦虚的人。”

我大笑。

“你——谦虚！”

“是的，除了，我得承认，我对我的胡子是有点自豪。我观察过了，在伦敦绝找不出可比的。”

“你是不用担心的。”我不动声色地说。“你是不会在伦敦找出第二个长着你这种胡子的。那么你不打算大胆地评价卡洛塔·亚当斯了？”

“她是个艺人！”波洛简捷地说道。“这就差不多概括了一切。是不是？”

“不管怎么说，你不会认为她生存在危险中吧？”

“我的朋友。我们每个人都如此。”波洛庄重地说，“灾难总是伺机而入。不过你要是问关于亚当斯小姐，我认为她会发迹的，因为她很聪明。另外还有重要一点就是。你一定观察到了。地是犹太人。”

我还真没注意到，但听他说了后，我还真能看出她的犹太人的痕迹。波洛点着头。

“她会发迹。可既然我们在说危险，她的路仍是一条险途。”

“你的意思是……”

“爱钱。对钱的欲望会将这样的人引人歧途，不再谨慎小心。”

“我们人人都会这样的。”我回答道。

“是这样的。但你和我能看出其中的危险。我们会权衡利弊。如果你太爱钱，你的眼睛就只能看到钱，其它的东西就全被遮住了。”

看着他认真的样子，我大笑起来。

“《巴黎圣母院》中的吉普赛女郎——埃斯美拉达再现了。”我开玩笑地说。

“性格心理学是很有趣的。”波洛不为所动地回答道”一个人如果对心理学不感兴趣），他也不会对犯罪问题感兴趣。犯罪问题专家所注意的不仅仅是凶杀行为本身），是问题后面的东西。黑斯廷斯），明白我的话了吗？”

我回答他，完全听明白了。

“黑斯廷斯，注意到，当我们一起办案子时，总是催促我采取行动。你总希望我勘查脚印，析烟灰，在地上检查细节。你从末发现闭着眼睛、仰卧在扶手椅上才更容易解决问题。那时我们是用心灵的眼睛观察事物。”

“我可不行。”我说，当我躺在扶手椅上，着眼睛想一件事儿，里面就那一件事，他的什么都没有。”

“我曾注意过，波洛说，真是很奇怪，时人的大脑不是陷人懒散的歇息状态。而是剧烈地活动起来。大脑的活动是如此有趣、如此刺激！运用大脑的那些小灰细胞是一种大脑的乐趣。只有靠它们我们才能拨开迷雾，到真理。”

每当波洛说起灰色的脑细胞，就习惯性地转移了注意力。因为这个我听他说很多次了。

这一次我的注意力转到邻桌的四位。待波洛的独白即将结束时我格格笑着说，

“波洛，你大受欢迎啊。漂亮的埃奇韦尔太太的眼睛简直离不开你了。”

“很显然，有人把我的身份告诉了她。”波洛试着露出谦虚的样子，但没成功。

“我猜是因为你的出名的胡子，”我说道，“她为胡子的漂亮倾倒了。”

波洛偷偷地捋着他的胡子。

“我的胡子的确很独特。”他也承认了，“唤，我的朋友，你的自称为‘牙刷’的胡子真够可怕、残忍的了，有意玷污造物主的造化。我的朋友，求你了。把它们剃掉吧。”

“啊！”我不顾波洛的请求，“那位女士站起来了，我敢肯定她是要和我们说话。布赖恩·马丁在反对，但她没听他的。”

一点不错，简·威尔金森猛然离开她的座位。径直走向我们的桌子。波洛站起来鞠躬致意，我也站了起来。

“赫尔克里·波洛先生，是吗？”她的声音沙哑但很温柔。

“愿为您效劳。”

“波洛先生。我想和您谈谈。我一定要和您谈谈。”

“当然可以，女士，您要坐下吗？”

“不，不，不在这儿。我想单独和您谈谈。我们上楼去我的套房吧。”

布赖恩·马丁跟了过来，笑着反对道：

“简。再等一会吧，我们还没吃完饭，波洛先生也一样啊。”

但简·威尔金森不是很容易改变主意的。

“怎么了，马丁，那又有什么关系呢？我们可以让人把晚饭送到套房里。你去和他们说。好吗？还有，马丁——”

他转过身去时，她跟着他，好像让他做什么。我猜测。他好像不同意，摇着头，皱着眉。她更强调地说着，于是他耸耸肩让步了。

在她说话过程中，她几次看了看卡洛塔·亚当斯坐的桌子，我猜她在说什么和那位美国女士有关的事。

简的目的达到了，便容光焕发地回来了。

“我们现在就上去。”她迷人地笑着说，示意也包括我。

她好像根本不在意我们是否同意她的计划。她毫无歉意地带着我们走了。

“波洛先生，今天晚上能遇见您真是运气。”她在领我f门走向电梯时说，“我事事都顺，真是棒极了。我正想着究竟该怎样做，一抬头就看到您坐在邻座。我就对自己说，‘波洛先生会告诉我该怎样做的。’”

她中断讲话对电梯服务生说，“三楼。”

“如果我能帮您忙的话——”波洛开始说。

“我肯定您能。我听说您是一位了不起的人。得有人帮我解围，您就是那个人。”

我们从三楼电梯出来，她领我们走在长廊上，在一个门前停了下来，走进了萨伏依饭店最豪华的套房。

她把白皮披肩丢在椅子上，把她的小珍珠手袋丢在桌上。然后就坐在椅子上大声说，

“波洛先生，不管怎样，我得摆脱我丈夫。”