黑麦奇案39
时间：2025-10-10 08:35:03
（单词翻译:单击）
Chapter Twenty-Three
I
Once again Miss Somers had just made tea in the typists’ room, and once
again the kettle had not been boiling when Miss Somers poured the water
onto the tea. History repeats itself. Miss Griffith, accepting her cup,
thought to herself: “I really must speak to Mr. Percival about Somers. I’m
sure we can do better. But with all this terrible business going on, one
doesn’t like to bother him over office details.”
As so often before Miss Griffith said sharply:
“Water not boiling again, Somers,” and Miss Somers, going pink, replied
in her usual formula:
“Oh, dear, I was sure it was boiling this time.”
Further developments on the same line were interrupted by the en-
Miss Griffith jumped up, came forward to meet him.
“Mr. Lance,” she exclaimed.
He swung round towards her and his face lit up in a smile.
“Hallo. Why, it’s Miss Griffith.”
Miss Griffith was delighted. Eleven years since he had seen her and he
knew her name. She said in a confused voice:
“Fancy your remembering.”
“Of course I remember.”
with her mouth slightly open. Miss Bell gazed eagerly over the top of her
typewriter and Miss Chase unobtrusively drew out her compact and
powdered her nose. Lance Fortescue looked round him.
“So everything’s still going on just the same here,” he said.
“Not many changes, Mr. Lance. How brown you look and how well! I
suppose you must have had a very interesting life abroad.”
“You could call it that,” said Lance, “but perhaps I am now going to try
and have an interesting life in London.”
“You’re coming back here to the office?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, but how delightful8.”
“You’ll find me very rusty,” said Lance. “You’ll have to show me all the
ropes, Miss Griffith.”
Miss Griffith laughed delightedly.
“It will be very nice to have you back, Mr. Lance. Very nice indeed.”
Lance threw her an appreciative9 glance.
“That’s sweet of you,” he said, “that’s very sweet of you.”
“We never believed—none of us thought …” Miss Griffith broke off and
flushed.
Lance patted her on the arm.
“You didn’t believe the devil was as black as he was painted? Well, per-
over it. The future’s the thing.” He added, “Is my brother here?”
“He’s in the inner office, I think.”
Lance nodded easily and passed on. In the anteroom to the inner sanc-
tum a hard-faced woman of middle age rose behind a desk and said for-
biddingly:
“Your name and business, please?”
Lance looked at her doubtfully.
“Are you—Miss Grosvenor?” he asked.
had indeed appeared so in the pictures that had appeared in the newspa-
pers reporting the inquest on Rex Fortescue. This, surely, could not be
Miss Grosvenor.
“Miss Grosvenor left last week. I am Mrs. Hardcastle, Mr. Percival For-
tescue’s personal secretary.”
“How like old Percy,” thought Lance. “To get rid of a glamorous blonde
and take on a Gordon instead. I wonder why? Was it safety or was it be-
cause this one comes cheaper?” Aloud he said easily:
“I’m Lancelot Fortescue. You haven’t met me yet.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Lancelot,” Mrs. Hardcastle apologized, “this is the
first time, I think, you’ve been to the office?”
“The first time but not the last,” said Lance, smiling.
He crossed the room and opened the door of what had been his father’s
private office. Somewhat to his surprise it was not Percival who was sit-
from a large wad of papers which he was sorting, and nodded his head.
“Good morning, Mr. Fortescue, you’ve come to take up your duties, I
suppose.”
“Your brother told me so.”
“He did, did he? With enthusiasm?”
“The enthusiasm was not marked,” he said gravely.
“Poor Percy,” commented Lance.
“Are you really going to become a City man?”
“You don’t think it’s likely, Inspector Neele?”
“It doesn’t seem quite in character, Mr. Fortescue.”
“Why not? I’m my father’s son.”
“And your mother’s.”
Lance shook his head.
“You haven’t got anything there, Inspector. My mother was a Victorian
romantic. Her favourite reading was the Idylls of the King, as indeed you
and always, I should imagine, out of touch with reality. I’m not like that at
all. I have no sentiment, very little sense of romance and I’m a realist first
and last.”
“People aren’t always what they think themselves to be,” Inspector
“No, I suppose that’s true,” said Lance.
He sat down in a chair and stretched his long legs out in his own charac-
teristic fashion. He was smiling to himself. Then he said unexpectedly:
“You’re shrewder than my brother, Inspector.”
“In what way, Mr. Fortescue?”
“I’ve put the wind up Percy all right. He thinks I’m all set for the City
in wildcat schemes. It would be almost worth doing just for the fun of it!
Almost, but not quite. I couldn’t really stand an office life, Inspector. I like
this.” He added quickly: “This is off the record, mind. Don’t give me away
to Percy, will you?”
“I don’t suppose the subject will arise, Mr. Fortescue.”
“I must have my bit of fun with Percy,” said Lance. “I want to make him
sweat a bit. I’ve got to get a bit of my own back.”
“That’s rather a curious phrase, Mr. Fortescue,” said Neele. “Your own
back—for what?”
“Oh, it’s old history now. Not worth going back over.”
“There was a little matter of a cheque, I understand, in the past. Would
that be what you’re referring to?”
“How much you know, Inspector!”
“There was no question of prosecution22, I understand,” said Neele. “Your
father wouldn’t have done that.”
“No. He just kicked me out, that’s all.”
Inspector Neele eyed him speculatively23, but it was not Lance Fortescue
of whom he was thinking, but of Percival. The honest, industrious24, parsi-
monious Percival. It seemed to him that wherever he got in the case he
whom everybody knew the outer aspects, but whose inner personality
somewhat colourless and insignificant27 character, a man who had been
once said. Neele was trying now, through Lance, to get at a closer appreci-
ation of Percival’s personality. He murmured in a tentative manner:
“Your brother seems always to have been very much—well, how shall I
put it—under your father’s thumb.”
“I wonder.” Lance seemed definitely to be considering the point. “I won-
der. Yes, that would be the effect, I think, given. But I’m not sure that it
was really the truth. It’s astonishing, you know, when I look back through
life, to see how Percy always got his own way without seeming to do so, if
you know what I mean.”
Yes, Inspector Neele thought, it was indeed astonishing. He sorted
through the papers in front of him, fished out a letter and shoved it across
the desk towards Lance.
“This is a letter you wrote last August, isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”
Lance took it, glanced at it and returned it.
“Yes,” he said, “I wrote it after I got back to Kenya last summer. Dad kept
it, did he? Where was it—here in the office?”
“No, Mr. Fortescue, it was among your father’s papers in Yewtree
The inspector considered it speculatively as it lay on the desk in front of
him. It was not a long letter.
Dear Dad,
I’ve talked things over with Pat and I agree to your propos-
here, say about the end of October or beginning of Novem-
ber. I’ll let you know nearer the time. I hope we’ll pull to-
gether better than we used to do. Anyway, I’ll do my best. I
can’t say more. Look after yourself.
Yours, Lance.
“Where did you address this letter, Mr. Fortescue. To the office or
Yewtree Lodge?”
Lance frowned in an effort of recollection.
“It’s difficult. I can’t remember. You see it’s almost three months now.
The office, I think. Yes, I’m almost sure. Here to the office.” He paused a
moment before asking with frank curiosity: “Why?”
“I wondered,” said Inspector Neele. “Your father did not put it on the file
here among his private papers. He took it back with him to Yewtree
Lodge, and I found it in his desk there. I wondered why he should have
done that.”
Lance laughed.
“To keep it out of Percy’s way, I suppose.”
“Yes,” said Inspector Neele, “it would seem so. Your brother, then, had
access to your father’s private papers here?”
“Well,” Lance hesitated and frowned, “not exactly. I mean, I suppose he
could have looked through them at any time if he liked, but he wouldn’t
be… .”
Inspector Neele finished the sentence for him.
“Wouldn’t be supposed to do so?”
snooping. But Percy, I should imagine, always did snoop.”
Inspector Neele nodded. He also thought it probable that Percival For-
tescue snooped. It would be in keeping with what the inspector was begin-
ning to learn of his character.
“And talk of the devil,” murmured Lance, as at that moment the door
opened and Percival Fortescue came in. About to speak to the inspector he
stopped, frowning, as he saw Lance.
“Hallo,” he said. “You here? You didn’t tell me you were coming here
today.”
ready to make myself useful. What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing at present. Nothing at all. We shall have to come to some kind
of arrangement as to what side of the business you’re going to look after.
We shall have to arrange for an office for you.”
Lance inquired with a grin:
“By the way, why did you get rid of glamorous Grosvenor, old boy, and
replace her by Horsefaced Hetty out there?”
“Really, Lance,” Percival protested sharply.
“Definitely a change for the worse,” said Lance. “I’ve been looking for-
knew a bit too much?”
his pale face. He turned to the inspector. “You mustn’t pay any attention to
He added: “I never had a very high opinion of Miss Grosvenor’s intelli-
gence. Mrs. Hardcastle has excellent references and is most capable be-
sides being very moderate in her terms.”
“Very moderate in her terms,” murmured Lance, casting his eyes to-
raise their salaries all round?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Percival Fortescue. “Quite uncalled for and un-
necessary.”
Inspector Neele noticed the gleam of devilry in Lance’s eyes. Percival,
however, was far too much upset to notice it.
“You always had the most extraordinary extravagant39 ideas,” he
stuttered. “In the state in which this firm has been left, economy is our
only hope.”
Inspector Neele coughed apologetically.
“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Fortescue,”
he said to Percival.
“Yes, Inspector?” Percival switched his attention to Neele.
“I want to put certain suggestions before you, Mr. Fortescue. I under-
stand that for the past six months or longer, possibly a year, your father’s
general behaviour and conduct has been a source of increasing anxiety to
you.”
“He wasn’t well,” said Percival, with finality. “He certainly wasn’t at all
well.”
“You tried to induce him to see a doctor but you failed. He refused cat-
egorically?”
“That is so.”
“May I ask you if you suspected that your father was suffering from
condition with signs of megalomania and irritability41 which terminates
That is exactly what I did fear. That is why I was so anxious for my father
to submit to medical treatment.”
Neele went on:
“In the meantime, until you could persuade your father to do that, he
“He certainly was,” Percival agreed.
“A very unfortunate state of affairs,” said the inspector.
“Quite terrible. No one knows the anxiety I have been through.”
Neele said gently:
“From the business point of view, your father’s death was an extremely
fortunate circumstance.”
Percival said sharply:
“You can hardly think I would regard my father’s death in that light.”
“It is not a question of how you regard it, Mr. Fortescue. I’m speaking
merely of a question of fact. Your father died before his finances were
completely on the rocks.”
Percival said impatiently:
“Yes, yes. As a matter of actual fact, you are right.”
“It was a fortunate occurrence for your whole family, since they are de-
pendent on this business.”
“Yes. But really, Inspector, I don’t see what you’re driving at …” Percival
broke off.
“Oh, I’m not driving at anything, Mr. Fortescue,” said Neele. “I just like
getting my facts straight. Now there’s another thing. I understood you to
say that you’d had no communication of any kind with your brother here
since he left England many years ago.”
“Quite so,” said Percival.
“Yes, but it isn’t quite so, is it, Mr. Fortescue? I mean that last spring
when you were so worried about your father’s health, you actually wrote
to your brother in Africa, told him of your anxiety about your father’s be-
haviour. You wanted, I think, your brother to combine with you in getting
your father medically examined and put under restraint, if necessary.”
“I—I—really, I don’t see …” Percival was badly shaken.
“That is so, isn’t it, Mr. Fortescue?”
“Well, actually, I thought it only right. After all, Lancelot was a junior
partner.”
Inspector Neele transferred his gaze to Lance. Lance was grinning.
“You received that letter?” Inspector Neele asked.
Lance Fortescue nodded.
“What did you reply to it?”
Lance’s grin widened.
“I told Percy to go and boil his head and to let the old man alone. I said
the old man probably knew what he was doing quite well.”
Inspector Neele’s gaze went back again to Percival.
“Were those the terms of your brother’s answer?”
“I—I—well, I suppose roughly, yes. Far more offensively couched, how-
ever.”
“I thought the inspector had better have a bowdlerized version,” said
Lance. He went on, “Frankly, Inspector Neele, that is one of the reasons
why, when I got a letter from my father, I came home to see for myself
what I thought. In the short interview I had with my father, frankly I
couldn’t see anything much wrong with him. He was slightly excitable,
fairs. Anyway, after I got back to Africa and had talked things over with
Pat, I decided that I’d come home and—what shall we say—see fair play.”
He shot a glance at Percival as he spoke.
“I object,” said Percival Fortescue. “I object strongly to what you are sug-
gesting. I was not intending to victimize my father, I was concerned for his
health. I admit that I was also concerned …” he paused.
Lance filled the pause quickly.
“You were also concerned for your pocket, eh? For Percy’s little pocket.”
He got up and all of a sudden his manner changed. “All right, Percy, I’m
through. I was going to string you along a bit by pretending to work here. I
wasn’t going to let you have things all your own sweet way, but I’m
damned if I’m going on with it. Frankly, it makes me sick to be in the same
thing. I can’t prove it, but I’ve always believed it was you who forged that
cheque there was all the row about, that got me shot out of here. For one
letters a foot high. My record was too bad for me to be able to protest ef-
fectively, but I often wondered that the old boy didn’t realize that if I had
forged his name I could have made a much better job of it than that.”
Lance swept on, his voice rising. “Well, Percy, I’m not going on with this
silly game. I’m sick of this country, and of the City. I’m sick of little men
like you with their pinstripe trousers and their black coats and their min-
cing voices and their mean, shoddy financial deals. We’ll share out as you
suggested, and I’ll get back with Pat to a different country — a country
where there’s room to breathe and move about. You can make your own
division of securities. Keep the gilt-edged and the conservative ones, keep
the safe two percent and three percent and three and a half percent. Give
me father’s latest wildcat speculations50 as you call them. Most of them are
probably duds. But I’ll bet that one or two of them will pay better in the
end than all your playing safe with three percent Trustee Stocks will do.
Father was a shrewd old devil. He took chances, plenty of them. Some of
those chances paid five and six and seven hundred percent. I’ll back his
Lance advanced towards his brother, who retreated rapidly, round the
end of the desk towards Inspector Neele.
“All right,” said Lance, “I’m not going to touch you. You wanted me out
of here, you’re getting me out of here. You ought to be satisfied.”
He added as he strode towards the door:
“You can throw in the old Blackbird Mine concession52 too, if you like. If
we’ve got the murdering MacKenzies on our trail, I’ll draw them off to
Africa.”
Neele seems to take it seriously, don’t you, Inspector?”
“Nonsense,” said Percival. “Such a thing is impossible!”
blackbirds and rye in father’s pocket.”
Gently stroking his upper lip, Inspector Neele said:
“You remember the blackbirds last summer, Mr. Fortescue. There are
“Nonsense,” said Percival again. “Nobody’s heard of the MacKenzies for
years.”
“And yet,” said Lance, “I’d almost dare to swear that there’s a MacKenzie
in our midst. I rather imagine the inspector thinks so, too.”
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1
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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haps
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| n.粗厚毛披巾；偶然，机会，运气( hap的名词复数 ) | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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embroil
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| vt.拖累；牵连；使复杂 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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speculatively
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| adv.思考地，思索地；投机地 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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skimping
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| v.少用( skimp的现在分词 )；少给；克扣；节省 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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skunk
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| n.臭鼬，黄鼠狼；v.使惨败，使得零分；烂醉如泥 | |
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prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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51
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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52
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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53
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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54
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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55
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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56
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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