chapter 9 the second death

though i did not understand the reason for poirot’s agitation, i knew him well enough to be sure that he had a reason for it.

we arrived at rosedew mansions, poirot sprang out, paid the driver and hurried into the building. miss adams’ flat was on the first floor, as a visiting-card stuck on a board informed us.

poirot hurried up the stairs, not waiting to summon the lift which was at one of the upper floors.

he knocked and rang. there was a short delay, then the door was opened by a neat middle-aged woman with hair drawn tightly back from her face. her eyelids were reddened as though with weeping.

‘miss adams?’ demanded poirot eagerly.

the woman looked at him.

‘haven’t you heard?’

‘heard? heard what?’

his face had gone deadly pale, and i realized that this, whatever it was, was what he had feared.

the woman continued slowly to shake her head.

‘she’s dead. passed away in her sleep. it’s terrible.’

poirot leaned against the doorpost.

‘too late,’ he murmured.

his agitation was so apparent that the woman looked at him with more attention.

‘excuse me, sir, but are you a friend of hers? i do not remember seeing you come here before?’

poirot did not reply to this directly. instead he said:

‘you have had a doctor? what did he say?’

‘took an overdose of a sleeping draught. oh! the pity of it! such a nice young lady. nasty dangerous things – these drugs. veronal he said it was.’

poirot suddenly stood upright. his manner took on a new authority.

‘i must come in,’ he said.

the woman was clearly doubtful and suspicious.

‘i don’t think –’ she began.

but poirot meant to have his way. he took probably the only course that would have obtained the desired result.

‘you must let me in,’ he said. ‘i am a detective and i have got to inquire into the circumstances of your mistress’s death.’

the woman gasped. she stood aside and we passed into the flat.

from there on poirot took command of the situation.

‘what i have told you,’ he said authoritatively, ‘is strictly confidential. it must not be repeated. everyone must continue to think that miss adams’ death was accidental. please give me the name and address of the doctor you summoned.’

‘dr heath, 17 carlisle street.’

‘and your own name?’

‘bennett – alice bennett.’

‘you were attached to miss adams, i can see, miss bennett.’

‘oh! yes, sir. she were a nice young lady. i worked for her last year when she were over here. it wasn’t as though she were one of those actresses. she were a real young lady. dainty ways she had and liked everything just so.’

poirot listened with attention and sympathy. he had now no signs of impatience. i realized that to proceed gently was the best way of extracting the information he wanted.

‘it must have been a great shock to you,’ he observed gently.

‘oh! it was, sir. i took her in her tea – at half-past nine as usual and there she was lying – asleep i thought. and i put the tray down. and i pulled the curtains – one of the rings caught, sir, and i had to jerk it hard. such a noise it made. i was surprised when i looked round to see she hadn’t woken. and then all of a sudden something seemed to take hold of me. something not quite natural about the way she lay. and i went to the side of the bed, and i touched her hand. icy cold it was, sir, and i cried out.’

she stopped, tears coming into her eyes.

‘yes, yes,’ said poirot sympathetically. ‘it must have been terrible for you. did miss adams often take stuff to make her sleep?’

‘she’d take something for a headache now and again, sir. some little tablets in a bottle, but it was some other stuff she took last night, or so the doctor said.’

‘did anyone come to see her last night? a visitor?’

‘no, sir. she was out yesterday evening, sir.’

‘did she tell you where she was going?’

‘no, sir. she went out about seven o’clock.’

‘ah! how was she dressed?’

‘she had on a black dress, sir. a black dress and a black hat.’

poirot looked at me.

‘did she wear any jewellery?’

‘just the string of pearls she always wore, sir.’

‘and gloves – grey gloves?’

‘yes, sir. her gloves were grey.’

‘ah! now describe to me, if you will, what her manner was. was she gay? excited? sad? nervous?’

‘it seemed to me she was pleased about something, sir. she kept smiling to herself, as though there were some kind of joke on.’

‘what time did she return?’

‘a little after twelve o’clock, sir.’

‘and what was her manner then? the same?’

‘she was terribly tired, sir.’

‘but not upset? or distressed?’

‘oh! no, sir. i think she was pleased about something, but just done up, if you know what i mean. she started to ring someone up on the telephone, and then she said she couldn’t bother. she’d do it tomorrow morning.’

‘ah!’ poirot’s eyes gleamed with excitement. he leaned forward and spoke in a would-be indifferent voice.

‘did you hear the name of the person she rang up?’

‘no, sir. she just asked for the number and waited and then the exchange must have said: “i’m trying to get them” as they do, sir, and she said: “all right,” and then suddenly she yawned and said: “oh! i can’t bother. i’m too tired,” and she put the receiver back and started undressing.’

‘and the number she called? do you recollect that? think. it may be important.’

‘i’m sorry i can’t say, sir. it was a victoria number and that’s all i can remember. i wasn’t paying special heed, you see.’

‘did she have anything to eat or drink before she went to bed?’

‘a glass of hot milk, sir, like she always did.’

‘who prepared it?’

‘i did, sir.’

‘and nobody came to the flat that evening?’

‘nobody, sir.’

‘and earlier in the day?’

‘nobody came that i can remember, sir. miss adams was out to lunch and tea. she came in at six o’clock.’

‘when did the milk come? the milk she drank last night?’

‘it was the new milk she had, sir. the afternoon delivery. the boy leaves it outside the door at four o’clock. but, oh! sir, i’m sure there wasn’t nothing wrong with the milk. i had it myself for tea this morning. and the doctor he said positive as she’d taken the nasty stuff herself.’

‘it is possible that i am wrong,’ said poirot. ‘yes, it is possible that i am entirely wrong. i will see the doctor. but you see, miss adams had enemies. things are very different in america –’

he hesitated, but the good alice leapt at the bait.

‘oh! i know, sir. i’ve read about chicago and them gunmen and all that. it must be a wicked country and what the police can be about, i can’t think. not like our policemen.’

poirot left it thankfully at that, realizing that alice bennett’s insular proclivities would save him the trouble of explanations.

his eye fell on a small suitcase – more of an attaché case, that was lying on a chair.

‘did miss adams take that with her when she went out last night?’

‘in the morning she took it, sir. she didn’t have it when she came back at tea-time, but she brought it back last thing.’

‘ah! you permit that i open it?’

alice bennett would have permitted anything. like most canny and suspicious women, once she had overcome her distrust she was child’s play to manipulate. she would have assented to anything poirot suggested.

the case was not locked, poirot opened it. i came forward and looked over his shoulder.

‘you see, hastings, you see?’ he murmured excitedly.

the contents were certainly suggestive.

there was a box of make-up materials, two objects which i recognized as elevators to place in shoes and raise the height an inch or so, there was a pair of grey gloves and, folded in tissue paper, an exquisitely-made wig of golden hair, the exact shade of gold of jane wilkinson’s and dressed like hers with a centre parting and curls in the back of the neck.

‘do you doubt now, hastings?’ asked poirot.

i believe i had up to that moment. but now i doubted no longer.

poirot closed the case again and turned to the maid.

‘you do not know with whom miss adams dined yesterday evening?’

‘no, sir.’

‘do you know with whom she had lunch or tea?’

‘i know nothing about tea, sir. i believe she lunched with miss driver.’

‘miss driver?’

‘yes, her great friend. she has a hat shop in moffat street, just off bond street. genevieve it’s called.’

poirot noted the address in his notebook just below that of the doctor.

‘one thing more, madame. can you remember anything – anything at all – that mademoiselle adams said or did after she came in at six o’clock that strikes you as at all unusual or significant?’

the maid thought for a moment or two.

‘i really can’t say that i do, sir,’ she said at last. ‘i asked her if she would have tea and she said she’d had some.’

‘oh! she said she had had it,’ interrupted poirot. ‘pardon. continue.’

‘and after that she was writing letters till just on the time she went out.’

‘letters, eh? you do not know to whom?’

‘yes, sir. it was just one letter – to her sister in washington. she wrote to her sister twice a week regular. she took the letter out with her to post because of catching the mail. but she forgot it.’

‘then it is here still?’

‘no, sir. i posted it. she remembered last night just as she was getting into bed. and i said i’d run out with it. by putting an extra stamp on it and putting it in the late fee box it would be all right.’

‘ah! – and is that far?’

‘no, sir, the post office is just around the corner.’

‘did you shut the door of the flat behind you?’ bennett stared.

‘no, sir. i just left it to – as i always do when i go out to post.’

poirot seemed about to speak – then checked himself.

‘would you like to look at her, sir?’ asked the maid tearfully. ‘looks beautiful she does.’

we followed her into the bedroom.

carlotta adams looked strangely peaceful and much younger than she had appeared that night at the savoy. she looked like a tired child asleep.

there was a strange expression on poirot’s face as he stood looking down on her. i saw him make the sign of the cross.

‘j’ai fait un serment, hastings,’ he said as we went down the stairs.

i did not ask him what his vow was. i could guess.

a minute or two later he said:

‘there is one thing off my mind at least. i could not have saved her. by the time i heard of lord edgware’s death she was already dead. that comforts me. yes, that comforts me very much.’

第九章 第二起命案

我虽然不明白波洛激动的原因。但我对他太了解了，肯定他是有道理的。

我们终于到了玫瑰露大厦。波洛跳下车来付了车费，匆匆地走人大厦。亚当斯小姐的套房在二楼，们是由一块公告板上钉着的一张名片上得知的。

电梯在上面一层，洛来不及等了就急忙步行上楼梯。

他又是敲门，是按铃。过了片刻，位整洁的中年妇女开了门。她的头发向后梳得紧紧的，圈红红的像是刚哭过。

“亚当斯小姐在吗？”波洛焦急地问道。

那妇女望着他。

“您还没听说？”

“听说？听说什么？”

他的脸突然变得如死灰一股，我意识到，不论发生的是什么事情，那正是波洛所担优的。

那位妇女不停地慢慢地摇着头。

“她死了。在睡梦中离开了人世。真是太可怕了。”

波洛倚在门柱上。

“太晚了。”他低声地说道。

他的激动如此明显，以至于那位妇女更注意地望着他。

“对不起。先生。您是她的一位朋友吗？我不记得曾看见您来过这里。”

波洛没有直接回答这个问题。却说。

“你请过医生了吗？他怎么说？”

“服了过量的安眠药。唉！太可惜了！这么好的一位小姐。这种安眠药一真是可恶的、危险的东西。医生说是叫佛罗那。”

波洛突然站得挺直。他的态度变得很威严。

“我得进去。”他说道。

很明显那位妇女有些疑心。

“我想恐怕——”她开始说道。

但波洛执意要进去，于是他用了一种可能是惟一的办法以达到预期结果。

“你必须让我进去。”他说道，“我是侦探，我奉命来调查你女主人死亡一案。”

那位妇女吃了一惊，忙闪到一边。于是我们走进了套房。

从那时起，波洛开始指挥这个场面了。

“我对你说的，”他威严地对那位妇女说道，“是绝对保密的。不能对任何人再提起。一定要让每个人都觉得亚当斯小姐的死是意外的。请告诉我你请过的那位医生的地址。”

“希思大夫，住卡莱尔大街l7号。”

“你的名字是——”

“贝内特，艾丽斯。贝内特。”

“你和亚当斯小姐感情很好，我可以看出来的，贝内特小姐。”

“唉！是的，先生。她是一位非常好的女士。我去年在她搬到这里的时候开始为她工作。她不像那些女演员。她是一位实实在在的小姐。她的举止很优雅，也喜欢一切优雅的东西。”

波洛充满同情地、认真地听着。他没有一丝不耐烦的样子。我知道慢慢地、一点一点来，是他得到自己想要的消息的最好办法。

“这对你的打击一定不小。”他温和地说。

“唤！是的，先生。照例在九点半的时候，我给她端进来茶水。但她躺在那里，所以我以为她睡着了。我把托盘放下。然后拉开窗帘。其中一个环卡住了，先生，我不得不用力拽，声音很大。我回头一望，很惊讶地发现没把她吵醒。我忽然觉得有点不对劲。她躺在那里的姿势似乎不大对。我就走到床边。摸摸她的手。那手冰冷冰冷的，我吓得大叫起来。”

她说到这里。停下来，眼泪不住地流下来。

“是啊，是啊”，波洛充满同情地说道，“这对你来说太可怕了。亚当斯小姐经常服药品以便睡觉吗？”

“先生，她有时因头痛吃药，是一个瓶子里的一些小药片。但医生说她昨天吃的是另一种药。”

“昨天晚上有人来拜访她吗？来访者？”

“没有，先生。昨天晚上她出去了，先生。”

“她告诉你她去哪儿了吗？”

“没有，先生。她大约是在七点出去的。”

“啊！她穿什么衣服？”

“她穿着一件黑衣服，先生。一套黑套装，一顶黑帽子。”

波洛看了看我。

“她戴什么首饰了吗？”

“只戴着平常戴的那串珠子，先生。”

“手套呢——是灰色的手套吗？”

“是的，先生，她戴的是灰色的手套。”

“啊！你能否给我讲一下她当时的态度。她是高兴呢？还是兴奋？悲哀？或是不安？”

“照我看，她好像对一件事很满意，先生。她不住地微笑着。好像有什么好玩的事似的。”

“她是什么时候回来的？”

“先生，十二点过一点。”

“那时候，她的态度怎样？还是那样吗？”

“她非常的累。先生。”

“但是，她不沮丧？或者痛苦？”

“唤！没有，先生。我想她是为一件事很得意，不过是干完太累了。不知道您是否明白我的意思。她拿起电话打给某人，然后她又说不想麻烦了，她要第二天再打。”

“啊！”波洛的两眼炯炯有神。他俯过身去用一种假装不在乎的口气间。

“你听到她是打给谁的吗？”

“没有，先生。她只是要了个号码等着。然后中转台大慨在说。我正在帮您接通，之类常说的话，先生。于是她说。‘好吧。’她又突然打哈欠说。‘啊！我可等不耐烦了。我太累了。’然后她就将听筒放回原处，开始脱衣服。”

“记得她要的号码吗？你还记得吗？想一想，这个很重要。”

“对不起。先生，我想不起来了。我所能记起的是那是一个维多利亚区的号码。您知道，我根本没留意。”

“她上床前，吃过什么吗？或者喝过什么吗？”

“像往常一样，喝了一杯热牛奶，先生。”

“谁煮的。”

“悬我煮的，先生。”

“昨天晚上没有人来过套房吗？”

“没人，先生。”

“那么在白天呢？”

“就我所记得的，没人来过，先生。亚当斯小姐出去吃午饭，喝茶。她是六点钟回来的。”

“牛奶是什么时候送来的？她昨天晚上喝的牛奶。”

“她喝的是新送的。先生。那天下午送的。送奶的人四点钟时放在门口的。但是。唉！先生，我敢肯定奶是不会有问题的。今天早晨我还喝了用它冲的奶茶。医生很肯定地说是她自己吃了那致命的安眠药。”

“可能我错了，”波洛说道，“是的，可能是我完全锗了。我要见见医生。但是，你要明白，亚当斯小姐是有仇人的。在美国情形可不一样——”

“噢！我知道的，先生。我读过关于芝加哥和枪手之类的东西。那一定是一个邪恶的国家，那里的警察能怎么办呢？我无法想象。不会像我们的警察。”

波洛很感激地停止了问话，他知道艾丽斯。贝内特的狭隘的岛国居民心理。他也不必再费口舌给她解释了。

他一眼看到椅子上的一个小提箱——或者说更像一个小型公文包。

“昨晚亚当斯小姐出去时。带着这个包吗？”

“先生，上午她带过。但下午吃茶回来时没带。而夜里回来时又带回来了。”

“啊！你能让我打开它吗？”

事实他要做什么，丽斯。贝内特都会允许的。就像所有小心、多疑的女人一样，一旦打消了疑虑，就会像孩子一样容易被操纵。她会同意波洛的一切建议。

那皮包没有上锁，洛打开了它。我走过去，着他的肩看里面究竟有什么。

“你看，斯廷斯，看到了吗？”他低声激动地说道。

里面的东西很有意思。

有一包化妆品。有两件东西，认得是鞋垫，来放到鞋里，人拔高一两英寸，有一副灰手套，及用薄纸包好的一副精致的金色假发套，是简·威尔金森的金发色。也像简的头发一样，中间分开，后有许多发鬈。

“黑斯廷斯，在你还怀疑吗？”波洛问。

我知道在那之前，一直是怀疑的。但以后，不再怀疑了。

波洛再次把皮包关上，走向女仆。

“你知道昨晚亚当斯小姐和谁共进晚餐吗？”

“不知道，先生。”

“你知道，她与谁吃的午饭和喝下午茶吗？”

“先生，关于下午茶，我一点也不知道。先生，我想她午饭是与德赖弗小姐吃的。”

“德赖弗小姐？”

“是的，她的密友。她在莫法特大街开了一个帽店，在邦德街旁边。店名叫吉纳维夫。”

波洛在本上记下地址。就记在医生的下面。

“还有一件事，女士。你还记得亚当斯小姐在六点钟回来的时候说过或做过什么事情——任何事情——使你觉得与往日不同，或有些特别的吗？”

那位女仆想了一会。

“先生，我真是说不出什么了。”她最后说道，“我问她是否要茶。她说她已经喝过一些了。”

“唤。她说她喝过了。”波洛打断道，“对不起，请你接着说。”

“然后她就写信，一直写到出去的时候。”

“写信？呃？你知不知道是写给谁？”

“是的，先生。是写给她在华盛顿的妹妹的。她通常是一周给她妹妹写两封信。她将信带出去寄以赶上邮班。但她忘了。”

“那么信仍然在这里吗？”

“不，先生。我把它寄了。她昨天在上床睡觉前记起来，我说我会出去寄的。再贴一张邮票，放入邮筒里，就可以寄出的。”

“啊——邮局远吗？”

“不，先生。邮局就在街道拐弯处。”

“你是不是随手把门关上了？”

贝内特不解地盯着他。

“没有，先生。我只是虚掩着——我出去寄信时总是这样的。”

波洛好像要说什么，但又忍住没说。

“先生，您要看看她吗？”那位女仆含着眼泪问道，“看看她有多么美丽。”

我们和她走入卧室。

卡洛塔·亚当斯看起来出奇地平和，比那天在萨伏依饭店看到的她更年轻。她好像一个熟睡的疲倦的孩子。

波洛低头望着她的时候，脸上有一种奇怪的表情。我看到他在胸前画十字。

“我发誓，黑斯廷斯。”我们下楼的时侯他说道。

我没有问他发什么誓，但我能猜到。

一两分钟以后，他说：

“现在至少有一件事已经弄清了。我是不可能救她的。当我听说埃奇韦尔男爵的死讯时，她己经死了。这还让我安一点心，是的，我感到心中平静多了。”