chapter 4 an interview

i arrived with poirot at lord edgware’s house in regent gate in a very pleasant state of anticipation. though i had not poirot’s devotion to ‘the psychology’, yet the few words in which lady edgware had referred to her husband had aroused my curiosity. i was anxious to see what my own judgment would be.

the house was an imposing one – well-built, handsome and slightly gloomy. there were no window-boxes or such frivolities.

the door was opened to us promptly, and by no aged white-haired butler such as would have been in keeping with the exterior of the house. on the contrary, it was opened by one of the handsomest young men i have ever seen. tall, fair, he might have posed to a sculptor for hermes or apollo. despite his good looks there was something vaguely effeminate that i disliked about the softness of his voice. also, in a curious way, he reminded me of someone – someone, too, whom i had met quite lately – but who it was i could not for the life of me remember.

we asked for lord edgware.

‘this way, sir.’

he led us along the hall, past the staircase, to a door at the rear of the hall.

opening it, he announced us in that same soft voice which i instinctively distrusted.

the room into which we were shown was a kind of library. the walls were lined with books, the furnishings were dark and sombre but handsome, the chairs were formal and not too comfortable.

lord edgware, who rose to receive us, was a tall man of about fifty. he had dark hair streaked with grey, a thin face and a sneering mouth. he looked bad-tempered and bitter. his eyes had a queer secretive look about them. there was something, i thought, distinctly odd about those eyes.

his manner was stiff and formal.

‘m. hercule poirot? captain hastings? please be seated.’

we sat down. the room felt chilly. there was little light coming in from the one window and the dimness contributed to the cold atmosphere.

lord edgware had taken up a letter which i saw to be in my friend’s handwriting.

‘i am familiar, of course, with your name, m. poirot. who is not?’ poirot bowed at the compliment. ‘but i cannot quite understand your position in this matter. you say that you wish to see me on behalf of ’ – he paused – ‘my wife.’

he said the last two words in a peculiar way – as though it were an effort to get them out.

‘that is so,’ said my friend.

‘i understood that you were an investigator of – crime, m. poirot?’

‘of problems, lord edgware. there are problems of crime, certainly. there are other problems.’

‘indeed. and what may this one be?’

the sneer in his words was palpable by now. poirot took no notice of it.

‘i have the honour to approach you on behalf of lady edgware,’ he said. ‘lady edgware, as you may know, desires – a divorce.’

‘i am quite aware of that,’ said lord edgware coldly.

‘her suggestion was that you and i should discuss the matter.’

‘there is nothing to discuss.’

‘you refuse, then?’

‘refuse? certainly not.’

whatever else poirot had expected, he had not expected this. it is seldom that i have seen my friend utterly taken aback, but i did on this occasion. his appearance was ludicrous. his mouth fell open, his hands flew out, his eyebrows rose. he looked like a cartoon in a comic paper.

‘comment?’ he cried. ‘what is this? you do not refuse?’

‘i am at a loss to understand your astonishment, m. poirot.’

‘ecoutez, you are willing to divorce your wife?’

‘certainly i am willing. she knows that perfectly well. i wrote and told her so.’

‘you wrote and told her so?’

‘yes. six months ago.’

‘but i do not understand. i do not understand at all.’ lord edgware said nothing.

‘i understood that you were opposed to the principle of divorce.’

‘i do not see that my principles are your business, m. poirot. it is true that i did not divorce my first wife. my conscience would not allow me to do so. my second marriage, i will admit frankly, was a mistake. when my wife suggested a divorce, i refused point blank. six months ago she wrote to me again urging the point. i have an idea she wanted to marry again – some film actor or fellow of that kind. my views had, by this time, undergone modification. i wrote to her at hollywood telling her so. why she has sent you to me i cannot imagine. i suppose it is a question of money.’

his lips sneered again as he said the last words.

‘extremely curious,’ muttered poirot. ‘extremely curious. there is something here i do not understand at all.’

‘as regards money,’ went on lord edgware. ‘my wife deserted me of her own accord. if she wishes to marry another man, i can set her free to do so, but there is no reason why she should receive a penny from me and she will not do so.’

‘there is no question of any financial arrangement.’

lord edgware raised his eyebrows.

‘jane must be marrying a rich man,’ he murmured cynically.

‘there is something here that i do not understand,’ said poirot. his face was perplexed and wrinkled with the effort of thought. ‘i understood from lady edgware that she had approached you repeatedly through lawyers?’

‘she did,’ replied lord edgware dryly. ‘english lawyers, american lawyers, every kind of lawyer, down to the lowest kind of scallywag. finally, as i say, she wrote to me herself.’

‘you have previously refused?’

‘that is so.’

‘but on receiving her letter, you changed your mind. why did you change your mind, lord edgware?’

‘not on account of anything in that letter,’ he said sharply. ‘my views happened to have changed, that is all.’

‘the change was somewhat sudden.’

lord edgware did not reply.

‘what special circumstances brought about your change of mind, lord edgware?’

‘that, really, is my own business m. poirot. i cannot enter into the subject. shall we say that gradually i had perceived the advantages of severing what – you will forgive my plain speaking – i considered a degrading association. my second marriage was a mistake.’

‘your wife says the same,’ said poirot softly.

‘does she?’

there was a queer flicker for a moment in his eyes, but it was gone almost at once.

he rose with an air of finality and as we said goodbye his manner became less unbending.

‘you must forgive my altering the appointment. i have to go over to paris tomorrow.’

‘perfectly – perfectly.’

‘a sale of works of art as a matter of fact. i have my eye on a little statuette – a perfect thing in its way – a macabre way, perhaps. but i enjoy the macabre. i always have. my taste is peculiar.’

again that queer smile. i had been looking at the books in the shelves near. there were the memoirs of casanova, also a volume on the comte de sade, another on mediaeval tortures.

i remembered jane wilkinson’s little shudder as she spoke of her husband. that had not been acting. that had been real enough. i wondered exactly what kind of a man george alfred st vincent marsh, fourth baron edgware, was.

very suavely he bid us farewell, touching the bell as he did so. we went out of the door. the greek god of a butler was waiting in the hall. as i closed the library door behind me, i glanced back into the room. i almost uttered an exclamation as i did so.

that suave smiling face was transformed. the lips were drawn back from the teeth in a snarl, the eyes were alive with fury and an almost insane rage.

i wondered no longer that two wives had left lord edgware. what i did marvel at was the iron self-control of the man. to have gone through that interview with such frozen self-control, such aloof politeness!

just as we reached the front door, a door on the right opened. a girl stood at the doorway of the room, shrinking back a little as she saw us.

she was a tall slender girl, with dark hair and a white face. her eyes, dark and startled, looked for a moment into mine. then, like a shadow, she shrank back into the room again, closing the door.

a moment later we were out in the street. poirot hailed a taxi. we got in and he told the man to drive to the savoy.

‘well, hastings,’ he said with a twinkle, ‘that interview did not go at all as i figured to myself it would.’

‘no, indeed. what an extraordinary man lord edgware is.’

i related to him how i had looked back before closing the door of the study and what i had seen. he nodded his head slowly and thoughtfully.

‘i fancy that he is very near the border line of madness, hastings. i should imagine he practises many curious vices, and that beneath his frigid exterior he hides a deep-rooted instinct of cruelty.’

‘it is no wonder both his wives left him.’

‘as you say.’

‘poirot, did you notice a girl as we were coming out? a dark girl with a white face.’

‘yes, i noticed her, mon ami. a young lady who was frightened and not happy.’

his voice was grave.

‘who do you think she was?’

‘probably his daughter. he has one.’

‘she did look frightened,’ i said slowly. ‘that house must be a gloomy place for a young girl.’

‘yes, indeed. ah! here we are, mon ami. now to acquaint her ladyship with the good news.’

jane was in, and after telephoning, the clerk informed us that we were to go up. a page-boy took us to the door.

it was opened by a neat middle-aged woman with glasses and primly arranged grey hair. from the bedroom jane’s voice, with its husky note, called to her.

‘is that m. poirot, ellis? make him sit right down. i’ll find a rag to put on and be there in a moment.’

jane wilkinson’s idea of a rag was a gossamer negligee which revealed more than it hid. she came in eagerly, saying: ‘well?’

poirot rose and bowed over her hand.

‘exactly the word, madame, it is well.’

‘why – how do you mean?’

‘lord edgware is perfectly willing to agree to a divorce.’

‘what?’

either the stupefaction on her face was genuine, or else she was indeed a most marvellous actress.

‘m. poirot! you’ve managed it! at once! like that! why, you’re a genius. how in mercy’s name did you set about it?’

‘madame, i cannot take compliments where they are not earned. six months ago your husband wrote to you withdrawing his opposition.’

‘what’s that you say? wrote to me? where?’

‘it was when you were at hollywood, i understand.’

‘i never got it. must have gone astray, i suppose. and to think i’ve been thinking and planning and fretting and going nearly crazy all these months.’

‘lord edgware seemed to be under the impression that you wished to marry an actor.’

‘naturally. that’s what i told him.’ she gave a pleased child’s smile. suddenly it changed to a look of alarm. ‘why, m. poirot, you did not go and tell him about me and the duke?’

‘no, no, reassure yourself. i am discreet. that would not have done, eh?’

‘well, you see, he’s got a queer mean nature. marrying merton, he’d feel, was perhaps a kind of leg up for me – so then naturally he’d queer the pitch. but a film actor’s different. though, all the same, i’m surprised. yes, i am. aren’t you surprised, ellis?’

i had noticed that the maid had come to and fro from the bedroom tidying away various outdoor garments which were lying flung over the backs of chairs. it had been my opinion that she had been listening to the conversation. now it seemed that she was completely in jane’s confidence.

‘yes, indeed, m’lady. his lordship must have changed a good deal since we knew him,’ said the maid spitefully.

‘yes, he must.’

‘you cannot understand his attitude. it puzzles you?’ suggested poirot.

‘oh, it does. but anyway, we needn’t worry about that. what does it matter what made him change his mind so long as he has changed it?’

‘it may not interest you, but it interests me, madame.’

jane paid no attention to him.

‘the thing is that i’m free – at last.’

‘not yet, madame.’

she looked at him impatiently.

‘well, going to be free. it’s the same thing.’

poirot looked as though he did not think it was.

‘the duke is in paris,’ said jane. ‘i must cable him right away. my – won’t his old mother be wild!’

poirot rose.

‘i am glad, madame, that all is turning out as you wish.’

‘goodbye, m. poirot, and thanks awfully.’

‘i did nothing.’

‘you brought me the good news, anyway, m. poirot, and i’m ever so grateful. i really am.’

‘and that is that,’ said poirot to me, as we left the suite. ‘the single idea – herself ! she has no speculation, no curiosity as to why that letter never reached her. you observe, hastings, she is shrewd beyond belief in the business sense, but she has absolutely no intellect. well, well, the good god cannot give everything.’

‘except to hercule poirot,’ i said dryly.

‘you mock yourself at me, my friend,’ he replied serenely. ‘but come, let me walk along the embankment. i wish to arrange my ideas with order and method.’

i maintained a discreet silence until such time as the oracle should speak.

‘that letter,’ he resumed when we were pacing along by the river. ‘it intrigues me. there are four solutions of that problem, my friend.’

‘four?’

‘yes. first, it was lost in the post. that does happen, you know. but not very often. no, not very often. incorrectly addressed, it would have been returned to lord edgware long before this. no, i am inclined to rule out that solution – though, of course, it may be the true one.

‘solution two, our beautiful lady is lying when she says she never received it. that, of course, is quite possible. that charming lady is capable of telling any lie to her advantage with the most childlike candour. but i cannot see, hastings, how it could be to her advantage. if she knows that he will divorce her, why send me to ask him to do so? it does not make sense.

‘solution three. lord edgware is lying. and if anyone is lying it seems more likely that it is he than his wife. but i do not see much point in such a lie. why invent a fictitious letter sent six months ago? why not simply agree to my proposition? no, i am inclined to think that he did send that letter – though what the motive was for his sudden change of attitude i cannot guess.

‘so we come to the fourth solution – that someone suppressed that letter. and there, hastings, we enter on a very interesting field of speculation, because that letter could have been suppressed at either end – in america or england.

‘whoever suppressed it was someone who did not want that marriage dissolved. hastings, i would give a great deal to know what is behind this affair. there is something – i swear there is something.’

he paused and then added slowly.

‘something of which as yet i have only been able to get a glimpse.’

第四章 会面

我和波洛带着一种愉快、满怀期待的心情来到摄政门埃奇韦尔男爵的府郧。尽管我不像波洛那样热衷于“心理研究”，埃奇韦尔夫人讲的关于她丈夫的话还是引起了我的好奇心。我很想看看我自已的判断会是什么样。

埃奇韦尔男爵的府邸很气派，建筑考究，式样漂亮，还有些阴森森的。窗台上没有任何花盆或其它装饰用的摆设。

门立刻打开了。按照这座房子的外观，出来的该是一位白发苍苍的老管家才对。但是出来开门的却是一个我曾见过的极英俊的年轻人。个头高高的，皮肤白白的，是雕塑家们雕塑赫耳墨斯或阿波罗的理想模特。不过尽管他长得英俊，他说话柔柔的，有———点女人气，我不喜欢。另外，很奇怪的是，我总觉得他让我想起一个我最近见过的人——可无论如何我一时还想不起来是谁。

我们说要见埃奇韦尔男爵。

“先生，这边请。”

他领着我们顺着前厅走过去，过了楼梯，来到厅后的一个屋门前。

他打开门，以那种同样柔柔的，我很不信任的音调通报了我们的姓名。

我们被领人的房间像是书房。四周陈列着书籍，室内摆设色调阴沉，但很考究，椅子样式古板，坐着不是很舒服。

埃奇韦尔男爵起身迎接我们。他个头很高，有五十岁左右，黑发里夹杂着灰发，瘦瘦的面孔，嘴角带着冷笑。他看起来是个脾气暴躁、很厉害的人。他眼里有一种奇怪的、诡秘的东西。

他的态度很僵硬、古板。

“是赫尔克里·波洛先生和黑斯廷斯上尉吗？请坐。”

我们坐了下来。房子里面冷飓飓的。一扇窗子漏出一丝光线，阴暗的光线加重了冷冷的气氛。

埃奇韦尔拿着一封信，我一看就知道是我朋友的笔迹。

“波洛先生，当然，我久仰您的大名。谁不知道您呢。”波洛听了他的恭维，赶紧起身鞠躬致谢。“但是我不明白您在这件事情中的立场。您说，您要和我见面，是代表——”他顿了顿，“——代表我的太太？”

最后的几个词，他说得很奇怪——好像很勉强才说出来。

“是这样的。”我的朋友说道。

“就我所知，您是调查犯罪的。是吗，波洛先生？”

“我是调查问题的，埃奇韦尔男爵。当然有犯罪问题，也有别的问题。”

“不错。那么这次是什么问题呢？”

这时，他话语里的讥讽口气已经很明显了。波洛没去理会它。

“我很荣幸地代表埃奇韦尔夫人来您这里”，波洛说道，“您知道埃奇韦尔夫人想离婚。”

“我当然知道。”埃奇韦尔男爵冷冷地说。

“她建议我和您谈谈。”

“没有什么好谈的。”

“那么，您是不同意了。”

“不同意？当然不是。”

我不知道波洛期待他回答什么，但我肯定他没想到他会这样说。我很少看到我的朋友大吃一惊的样子，而这次我看到了。他的表情很滑稽。嘴张得大大的，手仲着，两道眉毛挑着。他看起来活像连环画上的漫画人物。

“怎么？”他大声说道，“这是什么意思？您是不是同意？”

“波洛先生，我不明白您为什么这样惊奇。”

“请听我说，您愿意同尊夫人离婚吗？”

“我当然愿意。她很清楚的。我已经写信给她，告诉她了。”

“您己经写信给她。告诉她了？”

“是的，六个月前。”

“可我不明白。我一点也不明白。”

埃奇韦尔男爵一言不发。

“我知道您原则上是反对离婚的。”

“我不明白我的原则跟您有什么关系，波洛先生。是的，我没和我的前妻离婚，因为我的良心不允许我这样做。现在，我可以坦白地承认，我的第二次婚姻是个失败。我太太建议离婚的时候，我一口拒绝了。六个月以前，她又写信逼我同意。我想到她可能要再嫁什么电影演员或那类人吧。那个时候，我的观点也已经变了。我写信到好莱坞给她，告诉她我同意了。我不明白她为什么又请您来。我猜一定是为了钱吧。”

说最后那句话时。他的嘴角又浮起冷笑。

“太奇怪了，”我的朋友低声说，“真是太奇怪了。这儿有些事情我一点也不明白。”

“至于钱，”埃奇韦尔男爵接着说，“我太太自愿离开我的，如果她想和其他人结婚，我可以给她自由，但她没有理由从我这得到一分钱。她不能这样做。”

“我要和您商量的不是金钱上的事。”

埃奇韦尔男爵扬起眉毛。

“简肯定是要嫁一个富有的人了。”他低声冷笑地说。

“这儿有些事情我一点也不明白。”波洛又一次说道。他满脸困惑。眉头紧皱地思索着。“埃奇韦尔夫人说，她请律师与您交涉过。”

“她是请过律师，”埃奇韦尔男爵冷冷地说，“英国律师，美国律师，各种各样的律师都请过，甚至包括那些草包饭桶。最后。像我说的，她自己亲自写信来了。”

“您过去是不同意的？”

“是这样的。”

“但接到她的信。您就改变了主意。埃奇韦尔男爵，您为什么改变主意呢？”

“不是因为那封信上的什么话。”他机警地说道，“我突然改变了主意，就是这样。”

“这改变是很突然的。”

埃奇韦尔男爵没说话。

“埃奇韦尔男爵，您是在什么特殊的情况下改变自己的主意的呢？”

“那是我自己的事，波洛先生。这一点，我不能再说什么了。我们不妨这样说吧，我逐渐发现——请恕我坦率地讲——结束这种关系是有好处的。我的第二次婚姻是个失败。”

“您太太也这样说。”波洛轻柔地说道。

“是吗？”

他的眼里闪动着奇怪的光，但只是一闪。

他以一种结束式的态度站了起来。道别的时候，态度不怎么僵硬了。

“请原谅我临时改变了这次会面，因为我明天要去巴黎一趟。”

“当然，当然。”

“事实上是为一件艺术品的事。我对小小的艺术品感兴趣。它本身是完美的——可怕的完美。而我喜欢这种可怕。我总是这样的。我的品性很特殊的。”

他又那样奇怪地笑了。我一直在看旁边书架上的书。里面有卡萨诺瓦的回忆录，沙德伯爵的一卷书，还有一本是关于中世纪迫害的。

我想起简在谈起她丈夫时直发抖的样子。那不是装的。那是真的。我在想这个人——乔治。艾尔弗雷德。圣文森特。马什。埃奇韦尔男爵四世。到底是什么人。

他很和蔼地和我们告别，并按铃叫仆人。我们走出了屋子。那个长得有如希腊神抵一样的管家正在厅里等着送客。我随手关上书房的门，在关门的一刹那，我回首一望。这一望，让我差一点惊叫起来。

那副和善的面孔变形了。龇牙咧嘴的，面目狰狞，眼里闪着怒火，带着一种几乎疯狂的怒意。

我这才明白为什么他的两任太太都离开了他。我惊讶的是这个人钢铁般坚韧的自制力。这次会面，他从始至终都保持着那种僵硬的自制力，彬彬有礼又拒人干里之外。

我们刚走到大门的时候，右边的房门开了。一个女子站在房门口。看到我们，往后退了退。

她身材细高，头发深褐色，面色苍白。她的眼睛盯着我，深幽幽的，一副受惊吓的样子。然后又像影子一样缩回了房间。关上了门。

过了一会，我们走到街上，波洛叫了一辆出租车。我们坐了进去，他让司机开到萨伏依饭店。

“啊，黑斯廷斯”，他眨着眼睛说，“这次会面出乎我的意料。”

“是的，确实如此。”

我将先前关门时看到的情景讲给他听。他若有所思地点点头。

“我猜他已经到了疯狂的边缘了。黑斯廷斯，我觉得他一定做过很多坏事，在他的呆板的表面后面隐藏着一种根深蒂固的残酷本性。”

“难怪他两个太太都离开了他。”

“你说对了。”

“波洛，我们出来的时候，你注意到那个棕色头发、面色苍白的女子吗？”

“是的，我注意到她了，我的朋友。一位受惊吓、不开心的女子。”

他的声音很低沉。

“你觉得她是淮？”

“很可能是他女儿。他有一个女儿的。”

“她看起来是受惊吓的样子。”我慢慢地说道。“那座房子太死气沉沉”适合年轻的女孩子住。”

“是的。啊！我们到了，我的朋友。我们把这个好消息告诉埃奇韦尔夫人吧。”

简在饭店里，侍者打过电话后告诉我们上去。一个侍者带我们到了她的房门口。

开门的是一位整洁的中年妇女。她戴着眼镜，灰白的头发梳理得整整齐齐。卧室传来了简沙哑的声音。吩咐她：

“是波洛先生吗？埃利斯？请他坐下。我找件衣服披上，立刻就出来。”

简所说的衣服是一件薄如蝉翼的睡袍，与其说是遮体，倒不如说是展示身体的曲线。她急急地走进来，说道：“行了？”

波洛站起来，鞠躬吻手致意。

“是的，夫人，正如您说的，行了。”

“怎么？您的意思是——”

“埃奇韦尔男爵完全同意离婚。”

“什么？”

她脸上所表现出的茫然的样子若不是真的，就是她的演技实在太高。

“波洛先生！您办到了！就那样，一做就成。哇！您真是天才。您是怎样做的？”

“夫人，我无功不受禄。您丈夫在六个月以前已给您写信，撤回了他对离婚的反对。”

“您说什么？写信给我？寄到哪了？”

“我想。是当您在好莱坞的时候。”

“我从未收到过。我猜一定是寄丢了。想想。这几个月。我竟然一直为这事发愁，烦心，几乎要发疯了。”

“埃奇韦尔爵士好像觉得您要和一位演员结婚。”

“自然了。我对他说的。”她一脸稚气地笑着。突然，她换了一副惊慌的面孔，“波洛先生，您没和他说我与公爵的事吧？”

“没有。绝对没有。您放心。我是很谨慎的。可不能告诉他，是吧？”

“晤。您知道他是一个很怪的人。他若知道我要嫁给墨顿公爵，他会觉得我可以借此往上爬——很自然的，他就会暗中破坏。而嫁给一个演员就不同了。不管怎么说我还是很奇怪。埃利斯，你觉得奇怪吗？”

我注意到那个女仆一直在房里走来走去，整理挂在椅子背上的各种外衣。我本来以为她是在听我们讲话。现在看来她反倒像简的心腹。

“是啊，真够奇怪的，我的夫人。自从我们认清他以来，他一定是变化很大啊。”她满怀怨恨地说。

“是的，一定是。”

“您不是了解他的态度吗？这很令您莫名其妙吗？”波洛问道。

“啊！是啊。但是，不管怎样，我们不用操心这个。只要他已改变主意，为什么改变的又有什么关系呢？”

“您可能不感兴趣，夫人，可我倒感兴趣。”

简并未理会他。

“主要的是我终于自由了。”

“还没有。夫人。”

她不耐烦地望着他。

“哦，将要自由了。还不是一样的。”

波洛不以为然地看着她。

“公爵在巴黎。”筒说道，“我得马上打电报给他。啊！他妈妈知道了不气疯了才怪呢。”

波洛站起身。

“我很高兴一切如您意，夫人。”

“再见，波洛先生。非常感谢。”

“我什么也没做。”

“不管怎么说，您给我带来了好消息、，波洛先生。我将永远感激您。真的！”

“就是这样。”我们离开那间套房的时候，波洛对我说，“她脑子里所想的，只有一件事——就是她自己！她根本不去想想，没有一点好奇心。根本不想那封信她为什么没收到。你看。黑斯廷斯，在办事这方面，她是精明的，但是，她这个人绝对不聪明。当然。当然，仁慈的上帝不能把一切都给她。”

“但是对波洛则例外。”我不动声色地说。

“我的朋友，你又开我玩笑了。”他冷静地回答道，“来吧。我们沿着堤岸走走。我要把脑子里的思绪好好理理。”

我谨慎地保持缄默。等这个料事如神的家伙说话我再开口。

“那封信，”我们在河边散步的时候，他又接起了那个话题。“令我很感兴趣。我的朋友，对于这个问题，我有四个答案。”

“四个？”

“是的。第一，在邮寄中丢失了。你知道，这是有可能发生的，但不是经常发生的。如果邮寄地址不对，它早就被退回到埃奇韦尔男爵那去了。不可能，我不太相信这种可能——当然，尽管这是有可能的。

“第二个答案。我们这位漂亮的女士说她未收到信，是在撒谎。这也是有可能的。这位迷人的女士为了自己的利益，什么谎都可能撒，而且表面上装得像孩子似的坦白。但黑斯廷斯，我不明白这对她有何益处。如果她知道他已答应离婚，为什么还让我去与他丈夫谈判呢？这不合情理。

“第三个答莱。埃奇韦尔男爵在撒谎。如果说有人撒谎，似乎他撒谎的可能性比他太太大。但是我看不出他撒谎的目的。他为什么要编造说六个月前发过的一封假信呢？为什么不是简单地同意我们的建议呢？不是的，我还是觉得他确实寄了信，尽管我猜不出他为什么突然改变主意。

“所以我们又可以推断出第四个答案——就是有人把信扣留了。那么，黑斯廷斯，我们的猜测可就更有趣了，因为在两方面都可能被扣留——或是英国，或是美国。

“不论谁把信扣留了，他都是一个不愿这个婚姻解体的人。黑斯廷斯，我要努力知道这件事的幕后原因。肯定有原因的——我发誓一定有原因。”

他顿了一下，又慢慢地加上一句：“而这原因，现在我还是只能模糊地瞥见一点点。”