8 FURTHER SURPRISING REVELATIONS
8 高潮迭起
“Nothing would surprise me now,” said M. Bouc.
“现在可不会再有什么事让我不信的了。”
“Nothing! Even if everybody in the train proved to have been in the Armstrong household, I should not express surprise.”
波克先生说：“一点也没有了！就是车上每一个人都证实跟阿姆斯壮这家人有些关连，我也不会感到奇怪的了。”
“That is a very profound remark,” said Poirot. “Would you like to see what your favorite suspect, the Italian, has to say for himself?”
“你这话说得很有哲理，”白罗说：“你现在要不要听听你最中意的嫌疑，那名意大利人有什么可说的呢？”
“You are going to make another of these famous guesses of yours?”
“你又要作一次你那伟大的猜测了吗？”
“Precisely.”
“正是。”
“It is really a most extraordinary case,” said Constantine.
“这个案子的确是太绝了。”康斯丹丁医师说。
“No, it is most natural.”
“不然，这是最说得通的一个案子。”
M. Bouc flung up his arms in comic despair. “If this is what you call natural, mon ami—” Words failed him.
波克先生颓丧得近乎滑稽地将手臂舞了起来。“如果你称这个字子叫说得通，老兄呵……”他的手臂舞不下去了。
Poirot had by this time requested the dining-car attendant to fetch Antonio Foscarelli.
这时，白罗已差服务人员去请安东尼奥·佛斯卡瑞里了。
The big Italian had a wary look in his eye as he came in. He shot nervous glances from side to side like a trapped animal.
这名意大利大汉一脸机警的神色进入了餐车。他像一只落入陷阱中的野兽一般，眼睛来回地看着。
“What do you want!” he said. “I have nothing more to tell you—nothing, do you hear? Per Dio—” He struck his hand on the table.
“你们要干嘛？”他说：“我没有话可说了——没有，你们听见了吗？——”他在桌子上拍了一响。
“Yes, you have something more to tell us,” said Poirot firmly. “The truth!”
“有的，你还有话可以告诉我们的，”白罗坚定地说：“真相！”
“The truth?” He shot an uneasy glance at Poirot. All the assurance and geniality had gone out of his manner.
“真相？”他不安地看了白罗一眼。他态度中原有的笃走与温顺全都消失了。
“Mais oui. It may be that I know it already. But it will be a point in your favour if it comes from you spontaneously.”
“好吧。反正我早就晓得了。不过为了你好，你还是自己主动说了吧。”
“You talk like the American police. ‘Come clean’—that is what they say— ‘come clean.’ ”
“你说话完全是一副美国警察的口吻。‘招供’——他们常用这句话——‘招供的好’。”
“Ah! so you have had experience of the New York police?”
“喔！这么说，你是与纽约警察打过交道的了？”
“No, no, never. They could not prove a thing against me—but it was not for want of trying.”
“不，不，没有过。他们没法子找出我的把柄——反正不是为了问案。”
Poirot said quietly: “That was in the Armstrong case, was it not? You were the chauffeur?”
白罗轻轻地问：“那是有关阿姆斯壮家的案子，是不？你是他们家的司机？”
His eyes met those of the Italian. The bluster went out of the big man. He was
他的眼光凝住在这意大利人的眼睛上。这名大汉咆哮开来，像一只扎了洞的气球。
like a pricked balloon. “Since you know—why ask me?”
“你既然知道——还问我干嘛？”
“Why did you lie this morning?”
“你今天早上为什么说谎？”
“Business reasons. Besides, I do not trust the Jugo-Slav police. They hate the Italians. They would not have given me justice.”
“有工作上的理由。再说，我也不信任南斯拉夫的警察。他们都跟意大利人一样，他们不会给我公道的。”
“Perhaps it is exactly justice that they would have given you!”
“说不定，他们要跟你讨的正是公道！”
“No, no, I had nothing to do with this business last night. I never left my carriage. The long-faced Englishman, he can tell you so. It was not I who killed this pig—this Ratchett. You cannot prove anything against me.”
“不、不，昨天晚上的事跟我一点关系都没有。我根本不曾离开过房间。那个长脸的英国人可以作证。这个猪猡，罗嘉德，不是我杀的。你们不能证明我有什么嫌疑。”
Poirot was writing something on a sheet of paper. He looked up and said quietly: “Very good. You can go.”
白罗正在纸上写东西。他抬眼望着他，平静地说：”很好，你可以走了。“
Foscarelli lingered uneasily. “You realise that it was not I? That I could have had nothing to do with it!”
佛斯卡瑞里不安地迟疑着。“你明白了不是我吧？我跟这事是没关系的。”
“I said that you could go.”
“我已经说了你可以走了。”
“It is a conspiracy. You are going to frame me? All for a pig of a man who should have gone to the chair! It was an infamy that he did not. If it had been me— if I had been arrested—”
“你在搞诡计。你想把我丢进圈套？都为了那个该坐电椅、猪狗不如的家伙！他没上电椅，已是没有天理的事了。如果是我——如果我被抓到了……”
“But it was not you. You had nothing to do with the kidnapping of the child.”
“但是并不是你。你与那桩绑票孩子的案子毫无关系。”
“What is that you are saying? Why, that little one—she was the delight of the house. Tonio, she called me. And she would sit in the car and pretend to hold the wheel. All the household worshipped her! Even the police came to understand that. Ah, the beautiful little one!”
“你说什么？呵，那个小宝贝——她是全家的开心果。她叫我安东尼奥。她坐在我车里，小手装作握紧方向盘的样子。全家没人不疼爱她！就连警察也明白。呵，那个漂亮、可爱的小天使！”
His voice had softened. The tears came into his eyes. Then he wheeled round abruptly on his heel and strode out of the dining-car.
他的声音软了下来，眼眶中盈满了泪水。然后猛地作了个向后转的动作，跨步踱出了餐车。
“Pietro,” called Poirot.
“培卓，”白罗呼唤了一声。
The dining-car attendant came at a run.
餐车的服务生跑了进来。
“The No. 10—the Swedish lady.”
“请第十号的那位瑞典女士。”
“Bien, Monsieur.”
“是，先生。”
“Another?” cried M. Bouc. “Ah, no—it is not possible. I tell you it is not possible.”
“还有一个？”波克先生叫出声来。“唉呀，不——不可能的，我告诉你这不可能的呀。”
“Mon cher—we have to know. Even if in the end everybody on the train proves to have had a motive for killing Ratchett, we have to know. Once we know, we can settle once for all where the guilt lies.”
“老友——这我们得证明才知道。即使到最后，证明车上每一名旅客都有谋杀罗嘉德的动机，我们仍需要探求真相。真相一弄清楚了，我们就可以一劳永逸找出罪魁来了。”
“My head is spinning,” groaned M. Bouc.
“我的头都要炸了。”波克先生呻吟道。
Greta Ohlsson was ushered in sympathetically by the attendant. She was weeping bitterly.
服务生满脸怜惜地陪着葛丽泰·奥尔森进来了。她哀伤地哭泣着。
She collapsed on the seat facing Poirot and wept steadily into a large handkerchief.
她坐在白罗对面的椅子上，捧着一块大手帕不停地痛哭。
“Now do not distress yourself, Mademoiselle. Do not distress yourself,” Poirot patted her on the shoulder. “Just a few little words of truth, that is all. You were the nurse who was in charge of little Daisy Armstrong?”
“不要太伤心了，小姐。不要太难过。”白罗拍着她的肩膀说：“只请你说几句实话而已。你是照顾小黛西·阿姆斯壮的护士吧？”
“It is true—it is true,” wept the wretched woman. “Ah, she was an angel—a little sweet trustful angel. She knew nothing but kindness and love—and she wastaken away by that wicked man—cruelly treated—and her poor mother—and the other little one who never lived at all. You cannot understand—you cannot know— if you had been there as I was—if you had seen the whole terrible tragedy! I ought to have told you the truth about myself this morning. But I was afraid—afraid. I did so rejoice that that evil man was dead—that he could not any more kill or torture little children. Ah! I cannot speak—I have no words. ...”
“是的——我是的。”这悲恸的妇人哭泣着说：“呵，她太可爱了——一个最乖、最可爱的小天使。她只懂得善良与爱——却被那个坏人拐走了——遭了他狠心的毒手——她可怜的母亲——还有那死在娘胎里的婴儿。你是不会了解的——你不会知道的——如果你跟我一样也在场——如果你也目睹了这场悲剧！我今天早上是应该把实情告诉你们的。但是我怕——好怕。可是，那个邪恶的人死了，我真高兴——他不会再残杀别的小孩子了。啊！我说不下去了——我没别的可说了……”
She wept with more vehemence than ever.
她哭得愈来愈厉害了。
Poirot continued to pat her gently on the shoulder. “There—there—I comprehend—I comprehend everything—everything, I tell you. I will ask you no more questions. It is enough that you have admitted what I know to be the truth. I understand, I tell you.”
白罗仍在轻轻拍着她的肩膀。“好了——好了——我了解——我一切都明白——一切的事。听我说，我不会再问你别的问题了。你已经承认了我知道是真实的事情，这就够了。相信我，我了解的。”
By now inarticulate with sobs, Greta Ohlsson rose and groped her way towards the door. As she reached it she collided with a man coming in.
这时抽搐得说不出话的葛丽泰·奥尔森，撑起身来，茫茫地朝门口摸索地过去。她走出门口的时候，与一个正走进来的人碰了个正着。
It was the valet—Masterman.
那人是男仆——马斯德曼。
He came straight up to Poirot and spoke in his usual quiet, unemotional voice’.
他径自走到白罗面前，用他那一惯的平静、没有情感的声调说：
“I hope I’m not intruding, sir. I thought it best to come along at once, sir, and tell you the truth. I was Colonel Armstrong’s batman in the War, sir, and afterwards I was his valet in New York. I’m afraid I concealed that fact this morning. It was very wrong of me, sir, and I thought I’d better come and make a clean breast of it. But I hope, sir, that you’re not suspecting Tonio in any way. Old Tonio, sir, wouldn’t hurt a fly. And I can swear positively that he never left the carriage all last night. So, you see, sir, he couldn’t have done it. Tonio may be a foreigner, sir, but he’s a very gentle creature. Not like those nasty murdering Italians one reads about.”
“我希望我没有打扰您，先生。我想我最好还是立刻到您这儿来，把实情对您说清楚。我在大战期间是阿姆斯壮上校手下的小兵，后来在纽约他们家里当仆人。今天早上我把这些事实都隐瞒了。这是我的过错，先生，因此我觉得我应该来说实话，把事情澄清一下。但是，我希望先生您不要怀疑安东尼奥有什么瓜葛。先生，安东尼奥是个苍蝇都不敢碰的好人。我也可以郑重发誓，他昨晚从没有离开过房间。所以，先生，你应该相信，事情绝不可能是他干的。安东尼奥虽是个外乡人，但他是个很温顺的人，绝不是报上登的那种杀人不眨眼的凶恶的意大利人。”
He stopped.
他停住了口。
Poirot looked steadily at him. “Is that all you have to say?”
“白罗注视着他问：”你要说的就是这些吗？“
“That is all, sir.”
“就是这些，先生。”
He paused; then, as Poirot did not speak, he made an apologetic little bow and after a momentary hesitation left the dining-car in the same quiet unobtrusive fashion as he had come.
他顿了一下，见白罗没再说什么，就歉意地微施一躬，踌躇了片刻，仍是一副谦逊的模样退出了餐车。“
“This,” said Dr. Constantine, “is more wildly improbable than any roman policier I have ever read.”
这，”康斯丹丁医师说：“比我看过的任何侦探小说都更离奇了。”
“I agree,” said M. Bouc. “Of the twelve passengers in that coach, nine have been proved to have had a connection with the Armstrong case. What next, I ask you? Or should I say, who next?”
“可不是吗，”波克先生说：“车厢中的十二名旅客中，竟有九名已证实与阿姆斯壮绑票案有关了。我要问：下面该怎么样了？或者我应该说，下面该轮到谁了？”
“I can almost give you the answer to your question,” said Poirot. “Here comes our American sleuth, Mr. Hardman.”
“我看我差不多可以给你一个答案了。”白罗说：“你看，那位美国侦探哈德曼先生来了。”
“Is he, too, coming to confess?”
“他也是来招供的吗？”
Before Poirot could reply the American had reached their table. He cocked an alert eye at them and sitting down he drawled out: “Just exactly what’s up on this train? It seems bughouse to me.”
白罗还不及回答，这美国人已来到他们桌前。他警戒地看了他们一眼，坐下之后，慢条斯理地说：“车上到底是怎么搞的？好像出了跳蚤似地。”
Poirot twinkled at him.
白罗朝他挤了挤眼睛。
“Are you quite sure, Mr. Hardman, that you yourself were not the gardener at the Armstrong home?”
“哈德曼先生，你本人真地不是阿姆斯壮家中的园丁吗？”
“They didn’t have a garden,” replied Mr. Hardman literally.
“他们家没有花园。”哈德曼先生一字一板地回答。
“Or the butler?”
“也不是他们家的男管家？”
“Haven’t got the fancy manners for a place like that. No, I never had any connection with the Armstrong house—but I’m beginning to believe I’m about the only one on this train who hadn’t! Can you beat it? That’s what I say—can you beat it?”
“我没有那种修养。不是，我与阿姆斯壮家毫无任何关系——不过，我开始相信我大概是这车上唯一跟他们家没有并连的旅客了！你有什么话说吗？不错，我是在问：你能反驳我吗？”
“It is certainly a little surprising,” said Poirot mildly.
“这的确是有点出我意料之外。”白罗淡淡地说。
“C’est rigolo,” burst from M. Bouc.
“这就怪了。”波克先生口中冒出了一句。
“Have you any ideas of your own about the crime, Mr. Hardman?” inquired Poirot.
“对这桩命案，你有自己的任何看法吗，哈德曼先生？”
“No, sir. It’s got me beat. I don’t know how to figure it out. They can’t all be in it—but which one is the guilty party is beyond me. How did you get wise to all this? That’s what I want to know.”
“没有，先生，我认输了，我一点也想不通，不可能所有人都卷进来吧——可能到底是谁下的手？我可怎么也想不出来。这一切你是怎么套出来的？我倒要请教一番。”
“I just guessed.”
“我只是凭猜测而已。”
“Then, believe me, you’re a pretty slick guesser. Yes, I’ll tell the world you’re a slick guesser.”
“那么，老实说，你可真是一个精练的猜测家。的确，对任何人我都敢说你是个了不起的猜测家。”
Mr. Hardman leaned back and looked at Poirot admiringly.
哈德曼先生将身子靠回椅背，钦佩地看着白罗。
“You’ll excuse me,” he said, “but no one would believe it to look at you. I take off my hat to you. I do indeed.”
“容我说句不敬的话，”他说：“单从你的外表看来，是没有人会相信的。但是，我的确不能不佩服你。”
“You are too kind, M. Hardman.”
“你太恭维了，哈德曼先生。”
“Not at all. I’ve got to hand it to you.”
“一点不是。我真的服了你了。”
“All the same,” said Poirot, “the problem is not yet quite solved. Can we say with authority that we know who killed M. Ratchett?”
“这是闲话了。”白罗说：“说真的，问题仍未解决呢。你看，我们有没有把握指出是谁杀了罗嘉德先生的呢？”
“Count me out,” said Mr. Hardman. “I’m not saying anything at all. I’m just full of natural admiration. What about the other two you haven’t had a guess at yet? The old American dame, and the lady’s-maid? I suppose we can take it that they’re the only innocent parties on the train?”
“可别把我扯进去，”哈德曼先生说：“我可什么话都没说呀。我只是真心地钦佩你而已。还有另外两个你没猜的人呢，那个美国太太跟那名女仆，你看她们两个，怎么样？我们可以说车上只有她们两个是清白的了？”
“Unless,” said Poirot, smiling, “we can fit them into our little collection as— shall we say—housekeeper and cook in the Armstrong household?”
“除非，”白罗微笑着说：“我们可以把她们俩也拼入我们这个小搜集之内——比方说——一个是阿姆斯壮家的厨子，一个是女管家？”
“Well, nothing in the world would surprise me now,” said Mr. Hardman with quiet resignation. “Bughouse—that’s what this business is—bughouse!”
“反正，现在出什么事我都不会感到意外了，”哈德曼先生听天由命地轻轻说了一声：“出了跳蚤了——由我看来，这车厢简直是个跳蚤窝了嘛！”
“Ah! mon cher, that would be indeed stretching coincidence a little too far,” said M. Bouc. “They cannot all be in it.”
“啊！老兄，要讲巧合的话，这事体也未免太离谱了吧？”波克先生说：“总不可能每一个人都有关连吧？”
Poirot looked at him. “You do not understand,” he said. “You do not understand at all. Tell me, do you know who killed Ratchett?”
白罗看着他说：“你不懂。你根本不懂。我问你，你可知道杀罗嘉德的凶手是谁吗？”
“Do you?” countered M. Bouc.
“你知道吗？”波克先生反问他说。
Poirot nodded. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I have known for some time. It is so clear that I wonder you have not seen it also.” He looked at Hardman and asked: “And you?”
白罗点了点头。“那当然，”他说：“我早就知道了。这么明显，我真奇怪你会没看出来。”他又看了看哈德曼，问道：“你呢？”
The detective shook his head. He stared at Poirot curiously. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know at all. Which of them was it?”
这名侦探摇了摇头，他不解地盯住了白罗。“我不知道，”他说：“一点也不知道。到底是哪一个？”
Poirot was silent a minute. Then he said:
白罗沉默了半晌，然后说：
“If you will be so good, M. Hardman, assemble everyone here. There are two possible solutions of this case. I want to lay them both before you all.”
“如果可以偏劳你的话，哈德曼先生，可否请你把大家都请到这儿来。要侦破这桩命案，有两项可能的论点。我想说明给大家听听。“