饭饭TXT > 海外名作 > 《天涯过客(英文版)》作者:[英]阿加莎·克里斯蒂【完结】 > Passenger to Frankfurt.txt

第 28 页

作者:英-阿加莎·克里斯蒂 当前章节:10967 字 更新时间:2026-6-19 08:06

'The Professor - he's all right, isn't he?'

'The Professor?' He looked at her anxious face, kindly. 'He's fine. If you ask me, it's done him a world of good.'

'I thought perhaps the shock - '

'I'm quite all right,' said Shoreham. 'Shock treatment is what I needed. I feel - how shall I put it - alive again.' He looked surprised.

McCulloch said to Lisa, 'Notice how much stronger his voice is? It's apathy really that's the enemy in these cases - what he wants is to work again - the stimulation of some brain work. Music is all very well - it's kept him soothed and able to enjoy life in a mild way. But he's really a man of great intellectual power - and he misses the mental activity that was the essence of life to him. Get him started on it again if you can.'

He nodded encouragingly at her as she looked doubtfully at him.

'I think, Dr McCulloch,' said Colonel Munro, 'that we owe you a few explanations of what happened this evening, even though, as you surmise, the powers-that-be will demand a hush-hush policy. Lord Altamount's death -' He hesitated.

'The bullet didn't actually kill him,' said the doctor. 'It was due to shock. That hypodermic would have done the trick - strychnine. The young man -'

'I only just got it away from him in time,' said Horsham.

'Been the nigger in the woodpile all along?' asked the doctor.

'Yes - regarded with trust and affection for over seven years. The son of one of Lord Altamount's oldest friend.'

'It happens. And the lady - in it together, do I understand?'

'Yes. She got the post here by false credentials. She is also wanted by the police for murder.'

'Murder?'

'Yes. Murder of her husband, Sam Cortman, the American Ambassador. She shot him on the steps of the Embassy and told a fine tale of young men, masked, attacking him.'

'Why did she have it in for him? Political or personal?'

'He found out about some of her activities, we think.'

'I'd say he suspected infidelity,' said Horsham. 'Instead he discovered a hornets' nest of espionage and conspiracy, and his wife running the show. He didn't know quite how to deal with it. Nice chap, but slow-thinking - and she had the sense to act quickly. Wonderful how she registered grief at the Memorial Service.'

'Memorial -' said Professor Shoreham.

Everyone, slightly startled, turned round to look at him.

'Difficult word to say, memorial - but I mean it. Lisa, you and I are going to have to start work again.'

'But, Robert -'

'I'm alive again. Ask the doctor if I ought to take things easy.'

Lisa turned her eyes inquiringly on McCulloch.

'If you do, you'll shorten your life and sink back into apathy -'

'There you are,' said Shoreham. 'Fash - fashion - medical fashion today. Make everyone, even if they're - at - death's door - go on working -'

Dr McCulloch laughed and got up.

'Not far wrong. I'll send you some pills along to help.'

'I shan't take them.'

'You'll do.'

At the door the doctor paused. 'Just want to know - how did you get the police along so quickly?'

'Squadron Leader Andrews,' said Munro, 'had it all in hand. Arrived on the dot. We knew the woman was around somewhere, but had no idea she was in the house already.'

'Well - I'll be off. Is all you've told me true? Feel I shall wake up any minute, having dropped off to sleep half way through the latest thriller. Spies, murders, traitors, espionage, scientists -'

He went out.

There was a silence.

Professor Shoreham said slowly and carefully:

'Back to work -'

Lisa said as women have always said;

'You must be careful, Robert -'

'Not - not careful. Time might be short,'

He said again:

'Memorial -'

'What do you mean? You said it before.'

'Memorial?' Yes. For Edward. His memorial! I always thought he had the face of a martyr.'

Shoreham seemed lost in thought.

'I would like to meet Gottlieb. Maybe he's dead. He was a good man to work with. He and you, Lisa...'

'Professor Gottlieb is still alive... he works at the Baker foundation in Austin, Texas,' said Mr Robinson.

'What are you talking about?' asked Lisa.

'Benvo, of course! A memorial for Lord Altamount. He died for it, didn't he? Nobody should die in vain.'

Epilogue

Sir Stafford Nye wrote a telegram message for the third time.

ZP 354 XB 91 Dep. S.Y.

Arranged for wedding ceremony take place Thursday next week Saint Cristopher in the Vale Church Staunton 14h30 - Normal Anglican Church Service - If want catholic or greek orthodox church please telegraph instructions - Where are you and what name wnat to use for wedding ceremony - Very naughty niece five years old wants to be maid-of-honor - Very sweet actually - Name Sybyl - Honeymoon local for I think travelled enough already - Signed Passenger to Frankfurt.

For Stafford Nye BXY 42698

Accept Sybyl maid-of-honor - Suggest great-aunt Mathild bridesmaid - Accept marriage proposal even though not officially formulated - Anglican Church entirely satisfactory - Also honeymoon arrangements - Insist Panda being present - signed Mary Ann

'Do I look all right?' asked Stafford Nye nervously, twisting his head to look in the glass.

He was having a dress rehearsal of his wedding clothes.

'No worse than any other bridegroom,' said Lady Matilda. They're always nervous. Not like brides who are usually quite blatantly exultant.'

'Suppose she doesn't come?'

'She'll come.'

'I feel - I feel - rather queer inside.'

'That's because you would have a second helping of patê de foie gras. You've just got bridegroom's nerves. Don't fuss so much, Staffy. You'll be all right on the night - I mean you'll be all right when you get to the church -'

'That reminds me -'

'You haven't forgotten to buy the ring?'

'No, no, it's just I forgot to tell you that I've got a present for you, Aunt Matilda.'

'That's very nice of you, dear boy.'

'You said the organist had gone -'

'Yes, thank goodness.'

'I've brought you a new organist.'

'Really, Staffy, what an extraordinary idea! Where did you get him?'

'Bavaria - he sings like an angel -'

'We don't need him to sing. He'll have to play the organ.'

'He can do that too - he's a very talented musician.'

'Why does he want to leave Bavaria and come to England?'

'His mother died.'

'Oh dear, that's what happened to our organist. Organists' mothers seem to be very delicate. Will he require mothering? I'm not very good at it.'

'I dare say some grandmothering or great-grandmothering would do.'

The door was suddenly flung open and an angelic-looking child in pale pink pyjamas, powdered with rosebuds, made a dramatic entrance - and said in dulcet tones as of one expecting a rapturous welcome - 'It's me.'

'Sybil, why aren't you in bed?'

'Things aren't very pleasant in the nursery -'

'That means you've been a naughty girl, and Nannie isn't pleased with you. What did you do?'

Sybil looked at the ceiling and began to giggle.

'It was a caterpillar - a furry one. I put it on her and it came down here.'

Sybil's finger indicated a spot in the middle of her chest which in dressmaking parlance is referred to as 'the cleavage.'

'I don't wonder Nannie was cross - ugh,' said Lady Matilda. Nannie entered at this moment, said that Miss Sybil was over-excited, wouldn't say her prayers, and wouldn't go to bed.

Sybil crept to Lady Matilda's side. 'I want to say my prayers with you, Tilda -'

'Very well - but then you go straight to bed.'

'Oh yes, Tilda.'

Sybil dropped on her knees, clasped her hands, and uttered various peculiar noises which seemed to be a necessary preliminary to approaching the Almighty in prayer. She sighed, groaned, grunted, gave a final catarrhal snort, and launched herself:

'Please God bless Daddy and Mummy in Singapore, and Aunt Tilda, and Uncle Staffy, and Amy and Cook and Ellen, and Thomas, and all the dogs, and my Pony Grizzle, and Margaret and Diana my best friends, and Joan, the last of my friends, and make me a good girl for Jesus' sake. Amen. And please God make Nannie nice.'

Sybil rose to her feet, exchanged glances with Nannie with the assurance of having won a victory, said good-night and disappeared.

'Someone must have told her about Benvo,' said Lady Matilda. 'By the way, Staffy, who's going to be your best man?'

'Forgot all about it - Have I got to have one?'

'It's usual.'

Sir Stafford Nye picked up a small furry animal.

'Panda shall be my best man - please Sybil - please Mary Ann - And why not? Panda's been in it from the beginning - ever since Frankfurt...'

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