福尔摩斯探案经典:《恐怖谷》第3章Part2

The good impression which had been produced by his generosity and by his democratic manners was increased by a reputation gained for utter indifference to danger. Though a wretched rider, he turned out at every meet, and took the most amazing falls in his determination to hold his own with the best. When the vicarage caught fire he distinguished himself also by the fearlessness with which he reentered the building to save property, after the local fire brigade had given it up as impossible. Thus it came about that John Douglas of the Manor House had within five years won himself quite a reputation in Birlstone.
His wife, too, was popular with those who had made her acquaintance; though, after the English fashion, the callers upon a stranger who settled in the county without introductions were few and far between. This mattered the less to her, as she was retiring by disposition, and very much absorbed, to all appearance, in her husband and her domestic duties. It was known that she was an English lady who had met Mr. Douglas in London, he being at that time a widower. She was a beautiful woman, tall, dark, and slender, some twenty years younger than her husband; a disparity which seemed in no wise to mar the contentment of their family life.
It was remarked sometimes, however, by those who knew them best, that the confidence between the two did not appear to be complete, since the wife was either very reticent about her husband's past life, or else, as seemed more likely, was imperfectly informed about it. It had also been noted and commented upon by a few observant people that there were signs sometimes of some nerve-strain upon the part of Mrs. Douglas, and that she would display acute uneasiness if her absent husband should ever be particularly late in his return. On a quiet countryside, where all gossip is welcome, this weakness of the lady of the Manor House did not pass without remark, and it bulked larger upon people's memory when the events arose which gave it a very special significance.
There was yet another individual whose residence under that roof was, it is true, only an intermittent one, but whose presence at the time of the strange happenings which will now be narrated brought his name prominently before the public. This was Cecil James Barker, of Hales Lodge, Hampstead.
Cecil Barker's tall, loose-jointed figure was a familiar one in the main street of Birlstone village; for he was a frequent and welcome visitor at the Manor House. He was the more noticed as being the only friend of the past unknown life of Mr. Douglas who was ever seen in his new English surroundings. Barker was himself an undoubted Englishman; but by his remarks it was clear that he had first known Douglas in America and had there lived on intimate terms with him. He appeared to be a man of considerable wealth, and was reputed to be a bachelor.
In age he was rather younger than Douglas--forty-five at the most--a tall, straight, broad-chested fellow with a clean-shaved, prize-fighter face, thick, strong, black eyebrows, and a pair of masterful black eyes which might, even without the aid of his very capable hands, clear a way for him through a hostile crowd. He neither rode nor shot, but spent his days in wandering round the old village with his pipe in his mouth, or in driving with his host, or in his absence with his hostess, over the beautiful countryside. "An easy-going, free-handed gentleman," said Ames, the butler. "But, my word! I had rather not be the man that crossed him!" He was cordial and intimate with Douglas, and he was no less friendly with his wife--a friendship which more than once seemed to cause some irritation to the husband, so that even the servants were able to perceive his annoyance. Such was the third person who was one of the family when the catastrophe occurred.
As to the other denizens of the old building, it will suffice out of a large household to mention the prim, respectable, and capable Ames, and Mrs. Allen, a buxom and cheerful person, who relieved the lady of some of her household cares. The other six servants in the house bear no relation to the events of the night of January 6th.
It was at eleven forty-five that the first alarm reached the small local police station, in charge of Sergeant Wilson of the Sussex Constabulary. Cecil Barker, much excited, had rushed up to the door and pealed furiously upon the bell. A terrible tragedy had occurred at the Manor House, and John Douglas had been murdered. That was the breathless burden of his message. He had hurried back to the house, followed within a few minutes by the police sergeant, who arrived at the scene of the crime a little after twelve o'clock, after taking prompt steps to warn the county authorities that something serious was afoot.
On reaching the Manor House, the sergeant had found the drawbridge down, the windows lighted up, and the whole household in a state of wild confusion and alarm. The white-faced servants were huddling together in the hall, with the frightened butler wringing his hands in the doorway. Only Cecil Barker seemed to be master of himself and his emotions; he had opened the door which was nearest to the entrance and he had beckoned to the sergeant to follow him. At that moment there arrived Dr. Wood, a brisk and capable general practitioner from the village. The three men entered the fatal room together, while the horror-stricken butler followed at their heels, closing the door behind him to shut out the terrible scene from the maid servants.
The dead man lay on his back, sprawling with outstretched limbs in the centre of the room. He was clad only in a pink dressing gown, which covered his night clothes. There were carpet slippers on his bare feet. The doctor knelt beside him and held down the hand lamp which had stood on the table. One glance at the victim was enough to show the healer that his presence could be dispensed with. The man had been horribly injured. Lying across his chest was a curious weapon, a shotgun with the barrel sawed off a foot in front of the triggers. It was clear that this had been fired at close range and that he had received the whole charge in the face, blowing his head almost to pieces. The triggers had been wired together, so as to make the simultaneous discharge more destructive.
The country policeman was unnerved and troubled by the tremendous responsibility which had come so suddenly upon him. "We will touch nothing until my superiors arrive," he said in a hushed voice, staring in horror at the dreadful head.
"Nothing has been touched up to now," said Cecil Barker. "I'll answer for that. You see it all exactly as I found it."
"When was that?" The sergeant had drawn out his notebook.
"It was just half-past eleven. I had not begun to undress, and I was sitting by the fire in my bedroom when I heard the report. It was not very loud--it seemed to be muffled. I rushed down--I don't suppose it was thirty seconds before I was in the room."
"Was the door open?"
"Yes, it was open. Poor Douglas was lying as you see him. His bedroom candle was burning on the table. It was I who lit the lamp some minutes afterward."
"Did you see no one?"
"No. I heard Mrs. Douglas coming down the stair behind me, and I rushed out to prevent her from seeing this dreadful sight. Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, came and took her away. Ames had arrived, and we ran back into the room once more."
"But surely I have heard that the drawbridge is kept up all night."
"Yes, it was up until I lowered it."
"Then how could any murderer have got away? It is out of the question! Mr. Douglas must have shot himself."
"That was our first idea. But see!" Barker drew aside the curtain, and showed that the long, diamond-paned window was open to its full extent. "And look at this!" He held the lamp down and illuminated a smudge of blood like the mark of a boot-sole upon the wooden sill. "Someone has stood there in getting out."
"You mean that someone waded across the moat?"
"Exactly!"

由于道格拉斯慷慨大方，平易近人，人们对他的印象格外好，而他那临危不惧、履险如夷的精神更大大地提高了他的声望。尽管他是一个不很高明的枪手，每次狩猎集会他都应邀参加，令人吃惊地与别人较量，凭着他的决心，不仅坚持下来，而且一点也不比别人差。有一次教区牧师的住宅起火，当本地的消防队宣告无法扑救之后，他仍无所畏惧地冲进火窟，抢救财物，从而崭露头角。因此，约翰·道格拉斯虽然来到此地不过五年，却已誉满伯尔斯通了。
他的夫人也颇受相识者的爱戴。按照英国人的习惯，一个迁来本地的异乡人，如果未经介绍，拜访他的人是不会很多的。这对她来说，倒也无关紧要。因为她是一个性格孤独的人。而且，显然她非常专心致志地照顾丈夫，料理家务。相传她是一个英国女子，在伦敦和道格拉斯先生相逢，那时道格拉斯正在鳏居。她是一个美丽的女人，高高的身材，肤色较深，体态苗条，比她丈夫年轻二十岁。年龄的悬殊似乎毫未影响他们美满的家庭生活。
然而，有时那些深知内情的人说，他们的相互信任并不是无懈可击的，因为道格拉斯夫人对她丈夫过去的生活与其说不愿多谈，还不如说是不完全了解。少数观察敏锐的人曾注意到并议论过：道格拉斯太太有时有些神经紧张的表现 ，每逢她丈夫回来得过迟的时候，她就显得极度不安。平静的乡村总喜欢传播流言蜚语，庄园主夫人这一弱点当然也不会被人们默默地放过，而事件发生后，这件事在人们的记忆中就会变得更加重要，因此也就具有特殊的意义。
可是还有一个人，说实在的，他不过是有时在这里住一下，不过由于这件奇案发生时，他也在场，因此在人们的议论中，他的名字就特别突出了。这个人叫塞西尔·詹姆斯·巴克，是汉普斯特德郡黑尔斯洛基市人。
塞西尔·巴克身材高大灵活，伯尔斯通村里主要大街上人人都认识他，因为他经常出入庄园，是一个在庄园颇受欢迎的客人。对道格拉斯过去的生活，人们都不了解，塞西尔·巴克是唯一了解这种往事的人。巴克本人无疑是个英国人，但是据他自己说，他初次与道格拉斯相识是在美洲，而且在那里两个人关系很密切，这一点是很清楚的。看来巴克是一个拥有大量财产的人，而且众所周知是个光棍汉。
从年龄上讲，他比道格拉斯年轻得多——最多四十五岁，身材高大笔直，膀大腰圆，脸刮得精光 ，脸型象一个职业拳击家，浓重的黑眉毛，一双目光逼人的黑眼睛，甚至用不着他那本领高强的双手的帮助，就能从敌阵中清出一条路来。他既不喜欢骑马，也不喜欢狩猎，但却喜欢叼着烟斗，在这古老的村子里转来转去，不然就与主人一起，主人不在时就与女主人一起，在景色优美的乡村中驾车出游，借以消遣。“他是一个性情随和慷慨大方的绅士，"管家艾姆斯说，“不过，哎呀！我可不敢和他顶牛！"巴克与道格拉斯非常亲密，与道格拉斯夫人也一样友爱——可是这种友谊似乎不止一次地引起那位丈夫的恼怒，甚至连仆人们也察觉出道格拉斯的烦恼。这就是祸事发生时，这个家庭中的第三个人物。
至于老宅子里的另外一些居民，只要提一提艾姆斯和艾伦太太就够了——大管家艾姆斯是个拘谨、古板、文雅而又能干的人；而艾伦太太则是个健美而快乐的人，她分担了女主人一些家务管理工作。宅中其余六个仆人就和一月六日晚上的事件毫无关系了。
夜里十一点四十五分，第一次报警就传到当地这个小小的警察所了。这个警察所由来自苏塞克斯保安队的威尔逊警官主管。塞西尔·巴克非常激动地向警察所的门冲过去，拼命地敲起警钟。他上岂不接下平地报告：庄园里出了惨祸，约翰·道格拉斯被人杀害了。他匆匆地赶回庄园，过了几分钟 ，警官也随后赶到了，他是在向郡当局紧急报告发生了严重事件以后，于十二点多一点赶到犯罪现场的。
警官到达庄园时，发现吊桥已经放下，楼窗灯火通明，全家处于非常混乱和惊慌失措的状态。面色苍白的仆人们彼此紧挨着站在大厅里，惊恐万状的管家搓着双手，站在门口，只有塞西尔·巴克看来还比较镇静，他打开离入口最近的门，招呼警官跟他进来。这时，本村活跃而有本领的开业医生伍德也到了。三个人一起走进这间不幸的房屋，惊慌失措的管家也紧随他们走了进来，随手把门关上，不让那些女仆们看到这可怖的景象。
死者四肢摊开，仰卧在屋子中央，身上只穿一件桃红色晨衣，里面穿着夜服，赤脚穿着毡拖鞋。医生跪在他旁边，把桌上的油灯拿了下来。只看受害者一眼，就足以使医生明白，毫无救活的可能了。受害者伤势惨重，胸前横着一件稀奇古怪的武器——一支火枪，枪管从扳机往前一英尺的地方锯断了。两个扳机用铁丝缚在一起，为的是同时发射，以便构成更大的杀伤力。显然，射击距离非常近，而且全部火药都射到脸上，死者的头几乎被炸得粉碎。
这样重大的责任突然降到乡村警官身上，使他困惑不安，没有勇气承担。"在长官没来之前，我们什么也不要动，"他惊惶失措地凝视着那可怕的头颅 ，低声说道。
“到现在为止，什么也没有动过，"塞西尔·巴克说道，“我保证，你们所看到的一切完全和我发现时一模一样。”
“这事发生在什么时间？"警官掏出笔记本来。
“当时正是十一点半。我还没有脱衣服。我听到枪声时，正坐在卧室壁炉旁取暖。枪声并不很响——好象被什么捂住了似的。我奔下楼来，跑到那间屋子时，也不过半分钟的功夫。”
“那时门是开着的吗？”
“是的，门是开着的。可怜的道格拉斯倒在地上，和你现在看见的一样。他卧室里的蜡烛仍然在桌上点着。后来过了几分钟，我才把灯点上。”
“你一个人也没看见吗？”
“没有。我听见道格拉斯太太随后走下楼来，我连忙跑过去，把她拦住，不让她看见这可怕的景象。女管家艾伦太太也来了，扶着她走开。艾姆斯来了，我们又重新回到那屋里。”
“可是我肯定听说过吊桥整夜都是吊起来的。”
“是的，在我把它放下以前，吊桥是吊起来的。”
“那么凶手怎么能逃走呢？这是不可能的！道格拉斯先生一定是自杀的。”
“我们最初也是这样想的，不过你看！"巴克把窗帘拉到一旁，让他看那已经完全打开的玻璃长窗。"你再看看这个！"他把灯拿低些，照着木窗台上的血迹，象一只长统靴底的印痕，“有人在逃出去的时候曾站在这里。”
“你认为有人蹚水逃过护城河了吗？
“不错！”