chapter 11 the egoist

i do not think poirot had expected any other answer to his question. all the same he shook his head sadly. he remained lost in thought. jenny driver leant forward, her elbows on the table.

‘and now,’ she said, ‘am i going to be told anything?’

‘mademoiselle,’ said poirot. ‘first of all let me compliment you. your answers to my questions have been singularly intelligent. clearly you have brains, made-moiselle. you ask whether i am going to tell you anything. i answer – not very much. i will tell you just a few bare facts, mademoiselle.’

he paused, and then said quietly:

‘last night lord edgware was murdered in his library. at ten o’clock yesterday evening a lady whom i believe to have been your friend miss adams came to the house, asked to see lord edgware, and announced herself as lady edgware. she wore a golden wig and was made up to resemble the real lady edgware who, as you probably know, is miss jane wilkinson, the actress. miss adams (if it were she) only remained a few moments. she left the house at five minutes past ten but she did not return home till after midnight. she went to bed, having taken an overdose of veronal. now, mademoiselle, you see the point, perhaps, of some of the questions i have been asking you.’

jenny drew a deep breath.

‘yes,’ she said, ‘i see now. i believe you’re right, m. poirot. right about its having been carlotta, i mean. for one thing, she bought a new hat off me yesterday.’

‘a new hat?’

‘yes. she said she wanted one to shade the left side of her face.’

there i must insert a few words of explanation as i do not know when these words will be read. i have seen many fashions of hats in my time – the cloche that shaded the face so completely that one gave up in despair the task of recognizing one’s friends. the tilted forward hat, the hat attached airily to the back of the head, the beret, and many other styles. in this particular june the hat of the moment was shaped like an inverted soup plate and was worn attached (as if by suction) over one ear, leaving the other side of the face and hair open to inspection.

‘these hats are usually worn on the right side of the head?’ asked poirot.

the little modiste nodded.

‘but we keep a few to be worn on the opposite side,’ she explained. ‘because there are people who much prefer their right profile to the left or who have a habit of parting the hair on one side only. now, would there be any special reason for carlotta’s wanting that side of her face to be in shadow?’

i remembered that the door of the house in regent gate opened to the left, so that anyone entering would be in full view of the butler that side. i remembered also that jane wilkinson (so i had noticed the other night) had a tiny mole at the corner of the left eye.

i said as much excitedly. poirot agreed, nodding his head vigorously.

‘it is so. it is so. vous avez parfaitement raison, hastings. yes, that explains the purchase of the hat.’

‘m. poirot?’ jenny sat suddenly bolt upright. ‘you don’t think – you don’t for one moment think – that carlotta did it? kill him, i mean. you can’t think that? not just because she spoke so bitterly about him.’

‘i do not think so. but it is curious, all the same – that she should have spoken so, i mean. i would like to know the reason for it. what had he done – what did she know of him to make her speak in such a fashion?’

‘i don’t know – but she didn’t kill him. she’s – oh! she was – well – too refined.’

poirot nodded approvingly.

‘yes, yes. you put that very well. it is a point psychological. i agree. this was a scientific crime – but not a refined one.’

‘scientific?’

‘the murderer knew exactly where to strike so as to reach the vital nerve centres at the base of the skull where it joins the cord.’

‘looks like a doctor,’ said jenny thoughtfully.

‘did miss adams know any doctors? i mean, was any particular doctor a friend of hers?’

jenny shook her head.

‘never heard of one. not over here, anyway.’

‘another question. did miss adams wear pincenez?’

‘glasses? never.’

‘ah!’ poirot frowned.

a vision rose in my mind. a doctor, smelling of carbolic, with short-sighted eyes magnified by powerful lenses. absurd!

‘by the way, did miss adams know bryan martin, the film actor?’

‘why, yes. she used to know him as a child, she told me. i don’t think she saw much of him, though. just once in a while. she told me she thought he’d got very swollen-headed.’

she looked at her watch and uttered an exclamation.

‘goodness, i must fly. have i helped you at all, m. poirot?’

‘you have. i shall ask you for further help by and by.’

‘it’s yours. someone staged this devilry. we’ve got to find out who it is.’

she gave us a quick shake of the hand, flashed her white teeth in a sudden smile and left us with characteristic abruptness.

‘an interesting personality,’ said poirot as he paid the bill.

‘i like her,’ i said.

‘it is always a pleasure to meet a quick mind.’

‘a little hard, perhaps,’ i reflected. ‘the shock of her friend’s death did not upset her as much as i should have thought it would have done.’

‘she is not the sort that weeps, certainly,’ agreed poirot dryly.

‘did you get what you hoped from the interview?’

he shook his head.

‘no – i hoped – very much i hoped – to get a clue to the personality of d, the person who gave her the little gold box. there i have failed. unfortunately carlotta adams was a reserved girl. she was not one to gossip about her friends or her possible love affairs. on the other hand, the person who suggested the hoax may not have been a friend at all. it may have been a mere acquaintance who proposed it – doubtless for some “sporting” reason – on a money basis. this person may have seen the gold box she carried about with her and made some opportunity to discover what it contained.’

‘but how on earth did they get her to take it? and when?’

‘well, there was the time during which the flat door was open – when the maid was out posting a letter. not that that satisfies me. it leaves too much to chance. but now – to work. we have still two possible clues.’

‘which are?’

‘the first is the telephone call to a victoria number. it seems to me quite a probability that carlotta adams would ring up on her return to announce her success. on the other hand, where was she between five minutes past ten and midnight? she may have had an appointment with the instigator of the hoax. in that case the telephone call may have been merely one to a friend.’

‘what is the second clue?’

‘ah! that i do have hopes of. the letter, hastings. the letter to her sister. it is possible – i only say possible – that in that she may have described the whole business. she would not regard it as a breach of faith, since the letter would not be read till a week later and in another country at that.’

‘amazing, if that is so!’

‘we must not build too much upon it, hastings. it is a chance, that is all. no, we must work now from the other end.’

‘what do you call the other end?’

‘a careful study of those who profit in any degree by lord edgware’s death.’

i shrugged my shoulders.

‘apart from his nephew and his wife –’

‘and the man the wife wanted to marry,’ added poirot.

‘the duke? he is in paris.’

‘quite so. but you cannot deny that he is an interested party. then there are the people in the house – the butler – the servants. who knows what grudges they may have had? but i think myself our first point of attack should be a further interview with mademoiselle jane wilkinson. she is shrewd. she may be able to suggest something.’

once more we made our way to the savoy. we found the lady surrounded by boxes and tissue paper, whilst exquisite black draperies were strewn over the back of every chair. jane had a rapt and serious expression and was just trying on yet another small black hat before the glass.

‘why, m. poirot. sit down. that is, if there’s anything to sit on. ellis, clear something, will you?’

‘madame. you look charming.’

jane looked serious.

‘i don’t want exactly to play the hypocrite, m. poirot. but one must observe appearances, don’t you think? i mean, i think i ought to be careful. oh! by the way, i’ve had the sweetest telegram from the duke.’

‘from paris?’

‘yes, from paris. guarded, of course, and supposed to be condolences, but put so that i can read between the lines.’

‘my felicitations, madame.’

‘m. poirot.’ she clasped her hands, her husky voice dropped. she looked like an angel about to give vent to thoughts of exquisite holiness. ‘i’ve been thinking. it all seems so miraculous, if you know what i mean. here i am – all my troubles over. no tiresome business of divorce. no bothers. just my path cleared and all plain sailing. it makes me feel almost religious – if you know what i mean.’

i held my breath. poirot looked at her, his head a little on one side. she was quite serious.

‘that is how it strikes you, madame, eh?’

‘things happen right for me,’ said jane in a sort of awed whisper. ‘i’ve thought and i’ve thought lately – if edgware was to die. and there – he’s dead! it’s – it’s almost like an answer to prayer.’

poirot cleared his throat.

‘i cannot say i look at it quite like that, madame. somebody killed your husband.’

she nodded.

‘why, of course.’

‘has it not occurred to you to wonder who that someone was?’

she stared at him. ‘does it matter? i mean – what’s that to do with it? the duke and i can be married in about four or five months . . .’

with difficulty poirot controlled himself.

‘yes, madame, i know that. but apart from that has it not occurred to you to ask yourself who killed your husband?’

‘no.’ she seemed quite surprised by the idea. we could see her thinking about it.

‘does it not interest you to know?’ asked poirot.

‘not very much, i’m afraid,’ she admitted. ‘i suppose the police will find out. they’re very clever, aren’t they?’

‘so it is said. i, too, am going to make it my business to find out.’

‘are you? how funny.’

‘why funny?’

‘well, i don’t know.’ her eyes strayed back to the clothes. she slipped on a satin coat and studied herself in the glass.

‘you do not object, eh?’ said poirot, his eyes twinkling.

‘why, of course not, m. poirot. i should just love you to be clever about it all. i wish you every success.’

‘madame – i want your more than wishes. i want your opinion.’

‘opinion?’ said jane absently, as she twisted her head over her shoulder. ‘what on?’

‘who do you think likely to have killed lord edgware?’

jane shook her head. ‘i haven’t any idea!’

she wriggled her shoulders experimentally and took up the hand-glass.

‘madame!’ said poirot in a loud, emphatic voice. ‘who do you think killed your husband?’

this time it got through. jane threw him a startled glance. ‘geraldine, i expect,’ she said.

‘who is geraldine?’

but jane’s attention was gone again.

‘ellis, take this up a little on the right shoulder. so. what, m. poirot? geraldine’s his daughter. no ellis, the right shoulder. that’s better. oh! must you go, m. poirot? i’m terribly grateful for everything. i mean, for the divorce, even though it isn’t necessary after all. i shall always think you were wonderful.’

i only saw jane wilkinson twice again. once on the stage, once when i sat opposite her at a luncheon party. i always think of her as i saw her then, absorbed heart and soul in clothes, her lips carelessly throwing out the words that were to influence poirot’s further actions, her mind concentrated firmly and beautifully on herself.

‘epatant,’ said poirot with reverence as we emerged into the strand.

第十一章 自我主义者

我以为波洛早已料到这样的回答。但是他却失望地摇摇头，又陷入沉思之中。德赖弗小姐两肘抵着桌子，两手托腮，身体前倾过来。

“现在，”她说道，“您是不是要告诉我点什么？”

“女士，”波洛说，“首先让我向您致敬。您的答复非常理智。很显然，您是一位有头脑的人。您问我是否要告诉您些什么？我可以回答您——可以奉告的并不多。女士，我只能告诉您一些明显的事实。”

他停顿了一下，然后冷静地说。

“昨天夜里埃奇韦尔男爵在书房里被人杀害。昨天夜里十点钟的时候，有一位女人到男爵府上，自称是埃奇韦尔夫人。要见男爵。我认为这位女士是您的朋友亚当斯小姐。她戴着金黄色假发，装扮成埃奇韦尔夫人的样子。埃奇韦尔夫人，您可能知道，就是女演员简·威尔金森。假定那个人就是亚当斯小姐，她只在那里呆了片刻，在十点过五分的时候离开了那幢房子。但是她午夜以后才回到家里，服了过量的佛罗那以后便上床睡觉了。现在，女士，您也许可以了解我为什么问您那些问题了。”

詹尼深深地吸了口气。

“是的，”她说道，“我现在明白了。我想您是对的，波洛先生。我是说关于那人就是卡洛塔的猜想。有一件事可以证明，她昨天从我店里买走了一顶新帽子。”

“一顶新帽子？”

“是的，她说要买一顶能遮住左脸的。”

写到这里，我要插入一点说明，因为，不知道我所写的这些话什么时候有人读。我一生中看过多种帽子——比如，有一种钟形的帽子。能把人的脸完全遮住，让你不必担心被你的朋友认出来，有的帽子檐向前倾，有的优美地戴到脑袋后面。有的是扁圆形的贝雷帽，还有好多其它式样。在这年的六月份，最时髦的帽子好像一个倒置的汤盆，戴的时候，遮住一只耳朵，那就好像有什么力吸到头上似的。那么另一面和头发就露在外面了。

“这类帽子通常是戴在右边的啊。”波洛说。

那位小老板娘点点头。

“但是我们也有少数几顶戴在左边的。”她这样加以解释道。“因为有的人喜欢让人看她的右半部侧面，也有人只喜欢将头发分到一边。那么，卡洛塔想将左边那侧遮起来有什么特殊的原因吗？”

我记起男爵的摄政门府郧门是向左开的，这样，任何人进去，管家只能看到他左侧的险。我还记得（这是那天晚上注意到的）简·威尔金森左眼角上有一颗小小的痣。我很兴奋地将自己的想法说了出来。波洛用力地点着头，表示深有同感。

“是这样的。是这样的。你有很好的判断能力，黑斯廷斯，是的，这就说明她为什么要买这样的帽子了。”

“波洛先生？”詹尼突然坐直了身体，“您不会以为一是卡洛塔干的吧？我是说杀害他。您可不能那样想。不能仅仅因为她说过怨恨他的话，就那样想。”

“我井没有这样想。但是我仍然觉得奇怪一我是说。她怎么这么说。我想知道愿因。他做了什么——她了解了他的什么才使她这样说的？”

“我不知道——但是她不会杀他。她——噢！她是——呃——很高尚的。”

波洛赞同地点着头。

“是的。是的。您说得很对。我同意，这是心理上的问题。这是一个很职业的杀人案——但是手段并不高明。”

“职业的？”

“凶手的刀子刺入部位很准确，头盖骨底部和背髓相联接处，正是致命的神经中枢。他知道从哪里下手正中要害。”

“看样子是医生干的。”德赖弗小姐若有所思地说。

“亚当斯小姐认识什么医生吗？我是说她有什么特殊的医生朋友？”

德赖弗小姐摇摇头。

“没听说过。不论怎么说，在这儿是没有。”

“另外还有一个问题，亚当斯小姐戴夹鼻眼镜吗？”

“眼镜？不戴呀！”

“啊！”波洛皱着眉。

这时候，我脑海里浮现出一个影像。一个浑身石碳酸昧的医生，近视眼。戴着高度数的眼镜。这种想法真可笑！

“顺便问您一下，亚当斯小姐认识布赖恩·马丁吗？那个电影演员。”

“啊！认识的。她对我说，她从小就认识他。不过我想他们并不经常见面，只是偶尔地见见。她对我说，他那个人很自负。”

她看了看表，立刻叫道。

“天哪！我得走了。波洛先生，我说的对您有用吗？”

“很有用。以后我还要请您帮忙的。”

“好的。既然有人设下这样恶毒的计谋。我们要查出来他究竟是谁。”

她匆匆忙忙与我们握手，嫣然一笑，露出洁白的牙齿，带着那种特有的直率的态度离开了我们。

“真是一个有趣的人！”波洛付账的时候说。

“我喜欢她。”我说。

“认识一位思维敏捷的人是件开心的事。”

“也许。心肠有点硬。”我想了想说，“她听到好朋友去世，并不像我想象的那样难过。”

“她不是那种人，当然了。”波洛不动声色地赞同道。

“这次会面”了解了你想知道的吗？”

他摇了摇头。

“没有。我本来希望——找到一点那个d的线索，那个送她金匣子的人。但我没找到。可惜，卡洛塔·亚当斯是一位谨慎的女子。关于她的朋友和可能的爱情方面，她从不乱讲。从另一方面讲，那个建议戏弄别人的人，也许并非她的朋友。可能只是偶尔认识而已一不用说，建议的动机是捉弄人——用钱来作基础。这个人也许看见过她随身携带的那个金匣子，有机会看到里面有什么东西。”

“但是，他们究竟是怎样使她吃那药的呢？是在什么时间？”

“晤。那个女仆出去寄信的时候，大门是开着的。但是这一解释并不令我满意。因为意外的事情太多。但是现在——我看还是开始干吧。我们还有两个线索。”

“是什么？”

“第一个线索是打到维多利亚区的电话号码。我认为很可能是卡洛塔·亚当斯回家以后要打电话报告她的成功，另一方面，在十点过五分到午夜的那段时间，她在哪里，魍也许和那个阴谋设计者有约定。如果是那样，那个电话可只是打给一个朋友而已。”

“那么第二条线索呢？”

“啊！我对这一线索抱很大希望。那封信，黑斯廷斯，

封给她妹妹的信。很可能——我是说很可能——她在那信里描述了整件事情。因为那封信要在一周以后，被邮到另一个国家才被人读到、她不会认为这是违背约定。”

“要能这样真是太好了。”

“我们不能抱太大希望，黑斯廷斯。只不过是碰运气而已。是的，我们必须从事情的另一端着手。”

“你所说的另一端是什么？”

“仔细研究一下，埃奇韦尔男爵死后，有谁会从中得到各种好处？”

我耸耸肩膀。

“除了他的侄儿和太太以外——”

“还有他太太想另嫁的人。”波洛补充道。

“公爵？他在巴黎啊。”

“不错。但是你不能否定，他也是一个有关系的人。还有男爵府里的人——管家——仆人。谁知道他们对男爵有什么怨恨？但是，我个人认为，我们首先要做的事是与简·威尔金森女士谈一谈。她很精明的。也许她能说点什么。”

我们又一次来到萨伏依饭店。我们看到这位女士周围都是纸盒和包装纸，每个椅背上都挂着精致的黑色衣饰。简脸上带着全神贯注——一本正经的表情，正在试衣镜前试戴另一顶黑色帽子。

“啊！波洛先生，请坐。当然，如果还有地方可坐的话。埃利斯。清理一下东西好吗？”

“女士，您看起来很迷人。”

简的表情很严肃。

“波洛先生。我并不想假装什么。但您知道，一个人要注意仪表。我是说我得谨慎些。噢！顺便告诉您，我接到了公爵发来的很亲切的电报。”

“从巴黎打来的？”

“是的，是从巴黎来的。当然措词很小心，表面上是唁电，不过从他的字里行间，我可以感到他的亲切。”

“女士。我向您致贺。”

“波洛先生，”她拍了拍手，放低了她那沙哑的嗓音，那样子就像一位天使要吐露圣洁的心意一样，“我一直都在想，这一切是这样奇妙。您知道我的意思。现在我的一切麻，烦都没了。也没有那个讨厌的离婚难题了。再也没有麻烦了。我的路上己经毫无障碍，一切顺利了。这样一来，我几乎成了一个虔诚的好人了，您明白我的意思的。”

我屏住呼吸。波洛侧着头望着她。她的样子很肃穆。

“女士，您就是这样想的，呃？”

“事情发生得对我有利。”简悚然地低声说，“我近来常常想，埃奇韦尔死了就好了。然后——他就死了。这——这简直像在应验我的祷告。”

波洛清了清嗓子。

“女士。我可不像您那样看这件事。有人杀害了您的丈夫。”

她点点头。一

“是啊。那又怎么了？”

“您没想过，这个人会是谁吗？”

她瞪着眼睛望着他。“那有什么关系？我是说——有什么关系呢？反正公爵和我再过四五个月就可以结婚了。”“

波洛极力控制住自己的情绪。

“是的，女士，这个我知道。但除了这个以外，您就没想想是谁杀了您的丈夫？”

“没有。”她似乎对这个想法很惊讶，我们可以看出她在想。

“您不感兴趣，想知道吗？”波洛问道。

“不太感兴趣。我得承认。”她承认道，“我想警方会查个水落石出的。他们很聪明，不是吗？”

“人们是这样说。同时我本人也要将此案查个明白。”

“您？真滑稽！”

“为什么滑稽？”

“呢，我不知道。”这时候，她的眼光又回到衣服上。她披上一件缎子上衣，对着镜子仔细端详。

“您不反对吧？呃？”波洛眨着眼睛问道。

“啊！当然不反对，波洛先生。我喜欢您机智地查这件案子。我希望您成功。”

“女士——我不仅仅希望得到您的祝愿，还希望听听您的见解。”

“见解？”简心不在焉地扭动着头，“关于什么呢？”

“您认为谁会杀埃奇韦尔男爵？”

简摇头说；“我不知道。”

她试着扭动着肩膀，从各个角度看衣服合不合适，还拿着一把带手柄的小镜从背面看。

“女士，”波洛大声用力地说道，“您以为是谁杀害了您的丈夫？”

这一次她回过神来，向波洛投去吃惊的目光。“我想。是杰拉尔丁吧。”她说道。

“杰拉尔丁是谁？”

但简又走神了。

“埃利斯，把右肩上的衣服替我往上拉拉；波洛先生，您说什么来着？杰拉尔丁是他的女儿。不是，埃利斯，是右肩。好多了。噢！波洛先生，您要走么？我真是要感谢您。我是指离婚的事。现在虽然不需要了，但我还是要感谢您。我永远会记得您有多么好！”

我在那以后只见过简·威尔金森两次。一次是在舞台上。一次是午宴中坐她对面。我一见到她就想起她当时的样子。全神贯注地试衣服，嘴里漫不经心地说几句话，惹得波洛还要再问”她自己则美美地注意自己。

“真了不起！”我们走到滨河大街上时，洛这样说道。