chapter 15 sir montagu corner

it was about ten o’clock when we reached sir montagu corner’s house on the river at chiswick. it was a big house standing back in its own grounds. we were admitted into a beautifully-panelled hall. on our right, through an open door, we saw the dining-room with its long polished table lit with candles.

‘will you come this way, please?’

the butler led the way up a broad staircase and into a long room on the first floor overlooking the river.

‘m. hercule poirot,’ announced the butler.

it was a beautifully-proportioned room, and had an old-world air with its carefully-shaded dim lamps. in one corner of the room was a bridge table, set near the open window, and round it sat four people. as we entered the room one of the four rose and came towards us.

‘it is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, m. poirot.’

i looked with some interest at sir montagu corner. he had a distinctly jewish cast of countenance, very small intelligent black eyes and a carefully-arranged toupee. he was a short man – five foot eight at most, i should say. his manner was affected to the last degree.

‘let me introduce you. mr and mrs widburn.’

‘we’ve met before,’ said mrs widburn brightly. ‘and mr ross.’

ross was a young fellow of about twenty-two with a pleasant face and fair hair.

‘i disturb your game. a million apologies,’ said poirot.

‘not at all. we have not started. we were commencing to deal the cards only. some coffee, m. poirot?’

poirot declined but accepted an offer of old brandy. it was brought us in immense goblets.

as we sipped it, sir montagu discoursed.

he spoke of japanese prints, of chinese lacquer, of persian carpets, of the french impressionists, of modern music and of the theories of einstein.

then he sat back and smiled at us beneficently. he had evidently thoroughly enjoyed his performance. in the dim light he looked like some genie of the mediaeval age. all around the room were exquisite examples of art and culture.

‘and now, sir montagu,’ said poirot, ‘i will trespass on your kindness no longer but will come to the object of my visit.’

sir montagu waved a curious claw-like hand.

‘there is no hurry. time is infinite.’

‘one always feels that in this house,’ sighed mrs widburn. ‘so wonderful.’

‘i would not live in london for a million pounds,’ said sir montagu. ‘here one is in the old-world atmosphere of peace that – alas! – we have put behind us in these jarring days.’

a sudden impish fancy flashed over me that if someone were really to offer sir montagu a million pounds, old-world peace might go to the wall, but i trod down such heretical sentiments.

‘what is money, after all?’ murmured mrs widburn.

‘ah!’ said mr widburn thoughtfully, and rattled some coins absent-mindedly in his trouser pocket.

‘charles,’ said mrs widburn reproachfully.

‘sorry,’ said mr widburn and stopped.

‘to speak of crime in such an atmosphere, is, i feel, unpardonable,’ began poirot apologetically.

‘not at all.’ sir montagu waved a gracious hand. ‘a crime can be a work of art. a detective can be an artist. i do not refer, of course, to the police. an inspector has been here today. a curious person. he had never heard of benvenuto cellini, for instance.’

‘he came about jane wilkinson, i suppose,’ said mrs widburn with instant curiosity.

‘it was fortunate for the lady that she was at your house last night,’ said poirot.

‘so it seems,’ said sir montagu. ‘i asked her here knowing that she was beautiful and talented and hoping that i might be able to be of use to her. she was thinking of going into management. but it seems that i was fated to be of use to her in a very different way.’

‘jane’s got luck,’ said mrs widburn. ‘she’s been dying to get rid of edgware and here’s somebody gone and saved her the trouble. she’ll marry the young duke of merton now. everyone says so. his mother’s wild about it.’

‘i was favourably impressed by her,’ said sir montagu graciously. ‘she made several most intelligent remarks about greek art.’

i smiled to myself picturing jane saying ‘yes’ and ‘no’, ‘really, how wonderful’, in her magical husky voice. sir montagu was the type of man to whom intelligence consisted of the faculty of listening to his own remarks with suitable attention.

‘edgware was a queer fish, by all accounts,’ said widburn. ‘i daresay he’s got a good few enemies.’

‘is it true, m. poirot,’ asked mrs widburn, ‘that somebody ran a penknife into the back of his brain?’

‘perfectly true, madame. it was very neatly and efficiently done – scientific, in fact.’

‘i note your artistic pleasure, m. poirot,’ said sir montagu.

‘and now,’ said poirot, ‘let me come to the object of my visit. lady edgware was called to the telephone when she was here at dinner. it is about that telephone call that i seek information. perhaps you will allow me to question your domestics on the subject?’

‘certainly. certainly. just press that bell, will you, ross.’

the butler answered the bell. he was a tall middle-aged man of ecclesiastical appearance.

sir montagu explained what was wanted. the butler turned to poirot with polite attention.

‘who answered the telephone when it rang?’ began poirot.

‘i answered it myself, sir. the telephone is in a recess leading out of the hall.’

‘did the person calling ask to speak to lady edgware or to miss jane wilkinson?’

‘to lady edgware, sir.’

‘what did they say exactly?’

the butler reflected for a moment.

‘as far as i remember, sir, i said “hello”. a voice then asked if i was chiswick 43434. i replied that that was so. it then asked me to hold the line. another voice then asked if that was chiswick 43434 and on my replying “yes” it said, “is lady edgware dining there?” i said her ladyship was dining here. the voice said, “i would like to speak to her, please.” i went and informed her ladyship who was at the dinner table. her ladyship rose, and i showed her where the ’phone was.’

‘and then?’

‘her ladyship picked up the receiver and said: “hello – who’s speaking?” then she said: “yes – that’s all right. lady edgware speaking.” i was just about to leave her ladyship when she called to me and said they had been cut off. she said someone had laughed and evidently hung up the receiver. she asked me if the person ringing up had given any name. they had not done so. that was all that occurred, sir.’

poirot frowned to himself.

‘do you really think the telephone call has something to do with the murder, m. poirot?’ asked mrs widburn.

‘impossible to say, madame. it is just a curious circumstance.’

‘people do ring up for a joke sometimes. it’s been done to me.’

‘c’est toujours possible, madame.’

he spoke to the butler again.

‘was it a man’s voice or a woman’s who rang up?’

‘a lady’s, i think, sir.’

‘what kind of a voice, high or low?’

‘low, sir. careful and rather distinct.’ he paused. ‘it may be my fancy, sir, but it sounded like a foreign voice. the r’s were very noticeable.’

‘as far as that goes it might have been a scotch voice, donald,’ said mrs widburn, smiling at ross.

ross laughed.

‘not guilty,’ he said. ‘i was at the dinner table.’

poirot spoke once again to the butler.

‘do you think,’ he asked, ‘that you could recognize that voice if you were to hear it any time?’

the butler hesitated.

‘i couldn’t quite say, sir. i might do so. i think it is possible that i should do so.’

‘i thank you, my friend.’

‘thank you, sir.’

the butler inclined his head and withdrew, pontificial to the last.

sir montagu corner continued to be very friendly and to play his role of old-world charm. he persuaded us to remain and play bridge. i excused myself – the stakes were bigger than i cared about. young ross seemed relieved also at the prospect of someone taking his hand. he and i sat looking on while the other four played. the evening ended in a heavy financial gain to poirot and sir montagu.

then we thanked our host and took our departure. ross came with us.

‘a strange little man,’ said poirot as we stepped out into the night.

the night was fine and we had decided to walk until we picked up a taxi instead of having one telephoned for.

‘yes, a strange little man,’ said poirot again.

‘a very rich little man,’ said ross with feeling.

‘i suppose so.’

‘he seems to have taken a fancy to me,’ said ross. ‘hope it will last. a man like that behind you means a lot.’

‘you are an actor, mr ross?’

ross said that he was. he seemed sad that his name had not brought instant recognition. apparently he had recently won marvellous notices in some gloomy play translated from the russian.

when poirot and i between us had soothed him down again, poirot asked casually:

‘you knew carlotta adams, did you not?’

‘no. i saw her death announced in the paper tonight. overdose of some drug or other. idiotic the way all these girls dope.’

‘it is sad, yes. she was clever, too.’

‘i suppose so.’

he displayed a characteristic lack of interest in any - one else’s performance but his own.

‘did you see her show at all?’ i asked.

‘no. that sort of thing’s not much in my line. kind of craze for it at present, but i don’t think it will last.’

‘ah!’ said poirot.

‘here is a taxi.’

he waved a stick.

‘think i’ll walk,’ said ross. ‘i get a tube straight home from hammersmith.’

suddenly he gave a nervous laugh.

‘odd thing,’ he said. ‘that dinner last night.’

‘yes?’

‘we were thirteen. some fellow failed at the last minute. we never noticed till just the end of dinner.’

‘and who got up first?’ i asked.

he gave a queer little nervous cackle of laughter.

‘i did,’ he said.

第十五章 蒙塔古·科纳博士

我们到达齐西克河边的蒙塔古。科纳爵士公馆的时候，大约有十点钟。那是一所大宅子。前面有很大的庭院。我们被让入一个墙上嵌着精美木板的大厅。我们的右边，由那扇开着的门看去，可以看见餐厅，里面的餐桌擦得亮亮的，上面摆看烛台。

“请这边走。”

管家领我们走上一座宽大的楼梯。走进二楼的一间可以俯瞰河水的长形的房间。

“赫尔克里·波洛先生到。”管家通报道。

这是一间比例相当合适的房间，里面的灯发出幽暗的光亮，有一种旧世界气氛。房子的角落上摆着一张桥牌桌”刚好放在靠窗的位置。正有四个人坐在那儿打桥牌。当我们走进去的时候，其中一个人站起，迎上前来。

“波洛先生，见到您很荣幸。”

我饶有兴趣地打量着蒙塔古。科纳爵士。他有一副明显的犹太式的面孔，一双小小的黑眼睛，头上戴着精心梳理过的假发。他个子很矮——顶多有五英尺八英寸高。他的态度可以说是彻头彻尾的矫揉造作。

“让我向您介绍一下。这是威德伯思先生和威德伯恩夫人。”

威德伯恩夫人愉快地说。“我们见过面的。”

“这是罗斯先生。”

罗斯是个二十多岁的青年，有一副悦人的面孔和褐色的头发。

“打扰各位玩牌了。我万分歉意。”波洛说。

“没关系。我们还没开始呢。我们只是刚刚分牌。波洛先生。来点咖啡吗？”

波洛谢绝了，但却另外要了一杯陈年威士忌。仆人用大高脚杯给我们端上酒来。

当我们喝酒的时候。蒙塔古爵士与我们交谈。

他谈到日本的版画，中国的漆器。波斯的地毯，法国的印象派画家。现代音乐，还有爱因斯坦的学说。

然后他靠在椅背上，亲切地对着我们笑。不消说，他对自己的表演很满意。在那昏暗的灯光下，他的样子很像中古时代的神怪。室内四周的摆设，处处都代表着高度的艺术和文化趣昧。

“那么，蒙塔古爵士”，波洛说道，“我不想太多打扰您，就将来意说明白好了。”

“不用忙，有充足的时间。”

“我们在这里都感觉到这一点，”威德伯思夫人感叹道，“真是妙极了。”

“就是给我一百万英镑，让我住在伦敦，我也绝不愿意。”蒙塔古爵士说道，“在这里，我可以享受旧世界的宁静气氛，可是，唉，这种宁静，在现在这种熙熙攘攘的年头，大家早已忘在脑后了。”

这时候，我心中突然有一种奇想，如果真有人愿意出一百万英镑给蒙塔古爵士，他也许会把那旧世界的宁静抛到后面去了，但我赶紧压抑住了这种情绪。

“钱是什么东西呢？”威德伯恩夫人低语道。

“啊！”威德伯恩先生若有所思地说着，浸不经心地将湃袋里的钱摇得哗哗直响。

“查尔斯！”威德伯思夫人责备地说。

“对不起。”威德伯思先生说着，停止了摇动。

“说起在这种氛围下做坏事，我觉得真是不可饶恕。”波洛深有感触地说。

“没什么”蒙塔古爵士很优雅地摆摆手，犯罪可以是一项艺术品，探可能是一个艺术家。我所指的当然不是警察。今天有一位警督来到这里，是一个很奇怪的人，如说他从未听说过切利尼这个人。”

“他是来调查简·威尔金森一案的，想。”威德伯恩夫人立刻充满好奇心地说。

“昨晚男爵夫人幸好是在您府上。”

“看起来是这样的。”蒙塔古爵士说，“我请她来是因为我知道她很美丽，而且多才多艺，希望我能对她有所帮助。她正在考虑经商。但我是命中注定要在另一方面对她有所帮助。”

“简的运气很好。”威德伯恩夫人说，“她一直在想摆脱埃奇韦尔男爵。现在有人为她除去了障碍，而且省去了麻烦。她现在要嫁给年轻的默顿公爵了。人人都在这么说。他的妈妈简直气疯了。”

“我对她的印象很好。”蒙塔古爵士和蔼地说，“她对于希腊艺术说过很多很有见地的话。”

想起简用她那低哑的声音说着“是的”或者“不”。“真的！多了不起！”之类的话，我心中暗自好笑。对于蒙塔古爵士这种人，一个聪明的人就得洗耳恭听，并表示适当的注意。

“埃奇韦尔是个古怪的人。”威德伯恩先生说，“我敢说，他总有几个敌人吧。”

“波洛先生，这是真的”，威德伯思夫人说，“真有人将刀子刺人他的后脑吗？”

“是真的，夫人。干得干净利落——其实可以说很科学。”

“我注意到您是很有艺术品味的，波洛先生。”蒙塔古爵士说。

“那么，现在，”波洛说，“让我步人正题吧。听说埃奇韦尔夫人在这儿用晚餐的时候，有人请她接电话。我的来意就是要凋查一些关于那个电话的事。也许您能允许我与贵府的仆人谈谈这个问题吧？”

“当然可以，当然可以。罗斯，请按一下那铃，好吗？”

管家应声而人。他是一位身材高大的中年人，外表颇有些教会派头。蒙塔古爵士将波洛的意思向他说明了，他便转向波洛，很有札貌地注意着他的话。

“当电话铃响起的时候，谁去接的电话？”波洛开始i同道。

“先生，是我亲自接的。电话机是在通往大厅的过道处。”

“那打电话的人要和埃奇韦尔夫人讲话，还是和简·威尔金森小姐？”

“是埃奇韦尔夫人。先生。”

“他们的确这样说的？”

管家想了片刻。

“我记得是这样的，先生。我说。‘您好。’那边有个声音问是不是齐西克43434。我回答是。那边便让我等一下。然后另一个声音问是不是齐西克43434。待我回答‘是’后，那边问道，‘埃奇韦尔夫人在那里进餐吗？’我说夫人是在这里用餐。那个声音说。‘我想同埃奇韦尔夫人讲话，请通知她。’我就去通报正在用餐的夫人。夫人站起来，我就带她到电话机处。”

“然后呢？”

“夫人拿起电话听筒问。‘您好，请问是哪一位？’然后她说：‘是的——对。我是埃奇韦尔夫人。’我正要离开的时候，夫人便叫住我说电话断了。她说听到有人大笑，不用说一定是挂断了。她问我是谁。有没有通报姓名。而对方并没有说。这就是事情的经过，先生。”

波洛皱着眉。

“您真的认为那电话与谋杀有关吗？波洛先生。”威德伯恩夫人问道。

“不好说，夫人。这只是一件很怪的事。”

“有时是有人打电话开玩笑的。有人就和我开过这样的玩笑。”

“这总是可能的，夫人。”

他又与管家说话。

“打电话的是男，还是女？”

“我想是一位女士，先生。”

“什么样的声音，是高还是低？”

“很低，先生。很小心，而且也相当清楚。”他顿了顿，“这可能只是我的奇想，先生，听起来好像是个外国人的声音，里面的r音很重。”

“照这么说，也许是苏格兰口音吧，唐纳德。”威德伯恩夫人笑着对罗斯说。

罗斯大笑。

“我无罪，”他说，“我当时在餐桌上。”

波洛又一次和管家说话。

“你认为，”他问道，“如果你再一次听到那声音，你会识别出来吗？”

管家犹豫了一下。

“我不敢确切地说，先生，也许可以吧。我想我也许可以识别出来。”

“谢谢你。我的朋友。”

“谢谢，先生。”

管家低头告退，始终一副高僧派头。

蒙塔古。科纳爵士仍然很亲切，继续扮演那个赞美旧世界魔力的人。他劝我们留下来打桥牌。我婉辞了一因为我嫌赌注太大。年轻的罗斯看见有人接替了。似乎也觉得轻松不少。他们另外四个人打牌，我和罗斯在一旁观战。那一晚就这样度过的。波洛和蒙塔古爵士赢了不少钱。

于是我们告辞了。罗斯和载们一起出来。

“真是一个奇怪的人物。”我们迈步出来，走人夜色中。

夜晚天气很好，我们决定先走一会再叫出租车，而不是打电话先叫车。

“是的，真是一个奇怪的男人。”波洛又一次说。

“一个很有钱的人物。”罗斯深有感触地说。

“我想是这样的。”

“他好像对我很有好感。”罗斯说，“我希望这能持久。有这样的人在后面支待很重要。”

“罗斯先生，您是一位演员吗？”

罗斯说他是。他似乎很不愉快，因为我们没有马上认出他来。很显然，他最近演了一部由俄文译过来的情节很悲惨的剧本，引起了极大的注意。

当波洛和我设法让他的情绪缓和下来后，波洛漫不经心地问；

“您认识卡洛塔·亚当斯，是吗？”

“不认识。我是从今天晚报上看到她的名字的。服用了过量的毒品一类的东西。这些女孩总傻傻地这样做。”

“是的。很悲哀。但她却很聪明。”

“我想是这样的。”

他表现出除了自己的表演以外，对别人的一切都漠不关心的样子。

“您看过她演的戏吗？”我问道。

“没有。她那类表演和我不是一路子。现在好像很火。但我想不会持久的。”

“啊！”波洛说：“这里有一辆出租车。”

他挥动着手杖。

“我想我要步行。”罗斯说，“我想从哈默史密斯车站坐地铁直接回家。”

突然间，他很紧张地笑了。

“很奇怪的事情，”他说道，“昨晚的那场晚宴。”

“怎么？”

“我们总共十三个人。有一位客人因故临时未到。我们直到席终才注意到这一点。”

“是谁最先离席的？”我问道。

他格格地发出一种奇怪而兴奋的笑声。

“是我。”他说。