《古屋疑云》选段（原文朗读）| 阿加莎经典
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波洛在海边的悬崖山庄度假，像以往一样，他的假日又被打乱了……
Chapter 7 Tragedy
We could say nothing more for at that moment Frederica Rice came into the room. She was wearing a long pale-blue dress and looked very delicate. Lazarus followed her and then Nick danced in. She was now wearing a black dress and a beautiful old Chinese shawl① in a deep, glowing red.
“Hello, people,” she said. “Who wants cocktails?”
“That’s a wonderful and unusual shawl, Nick,” Lazarus said. “It’s warm,” said Nick. “It’ll be nice when we’re watching the fireworks. And it’s bright. I — I hate black.”
“Yes,” said Frederica. “I’ve never seen you in a black dress before, Nick. Why did you get it?”
“Oh! I don’t know.” I saw an expression of pain cross her face for a second. “Why does one do anything?”
We went in to dinner. The food was not good. The champagne, on the other hand, was excellent.
“George hasn't turned up,” said Nick. “He had to go back to Plymouth last night. He’ll get here in time for the dance.”
A faint roaring sound came in through the window.
“Oh, that speedboat!” said Lazarus. “I get so tired of hearing it.”
“That’s not the speedboat,” said Nick. “That’s a seaplane.”
“I believe you’re right. I admire all these flying people,” said Lazarus. “If Michael Seton had succeeded in his flight round the world, he’d have been such a hero. How tragic that he’s crashed somewhere.”
① shawl n. 大披巾
“He may still be all right,” said Nick.
“I doubt it. It’s a thousand to one against by now. Poor Mad Seton.”
“They always called him Mad Seton, didn’t they?” asked Frederica.
Lazarus nodded. “He comes from a mad family,” he said. “His uncle, Sir Matthew Seton, who died a week ago — he was mad. He was a great woman-hater.”
“Why do you say Michael Seton is dead?” asked Nick. “I don’t see any reason for giving up hope — yet.”
“Of course, you knew him, didn’t you?” said Lazarus.
“Freddie and I met him at Le Touquet last year,” said Nick.
“He was lovely, wasn’t he, Freddie?”
“Don’t ask me, darling. He was your friend not mine. He took you up in his plane once, didn’t he?”
“Yes, it was wonderful.”
Suddenly Nick jumped up. “I hear the telephone. Don't wait for me. Finish your meal. It's getting late. And I’ve asked lots of people to come for the fireworks.” She left the room. I looked at my watch. It was just nine o’clock. It was twenty past nine when Nick reappeared, putting her head round the door. “Come on — everyone else is in the living room!”
We stood up obediently. About a dozen people had been asked — among them Charles Vyse. We all moved out into the garden and the first firework flew into the sky. At that moment I heard a loud familiar voice, and turned my head to see Nick welcoming Mr Croft.
“What a pity that Mrs Croft can’t be here too. We ought to have carried her up,” said Nick.
“She never complains — that woman’s got the sweetest nature. Oh! That's a good one,” said Mr Croft as a shower of golden stars lit up the sky.
The night was a dark one — there was no moon — and it was also cool. Maggie Buckley shivered. “I’ll just run in and get a coat,” she said quietly. As she turned towards the house, Frederica Rice called, “Oh, Maggie, get mine too. It’s in my room.”
“She didn’t hear,” said Nick. “I’ll get it, Freddie. I want my fur one — this shawl isn’t nearly warm enough.”
Bang! A shower of green stars filled the sky. They changed to blue, then red, then silver. Another and yet another.
“‘Oh!’ and then ‘Ah!’ that is what one says,” observed Poirot. “It becomes boring, do you not find? And it is cold and the grass is damp to the feet!” Poirot lifted first one, then the other foot from the ground with a cat-like movement. “It is the dampness of the feet I fear. I will sit in the house.”
We went towards the house. Loud shouts of excitement came up to us from the harbour below.
“We are all children really,” said Poirot, thoughtfully. “The fireworks, the party, the games with balls, and even the magician, the man who deceives① the eye, however carefully one watches — what is it, Hastings?”
I had caught him by the arm with one hand, while with the other I pointed. Between us and the open terrace window, a figure lay motionless on the grass, wearing a red Chinese shawl.
“No!” whispered Poirot. “No...”
① deceive v. 欺骗
以上内容整理自“阿加莎•克里斯蒂经典侦探作品集”之《古屋疑云》，图片来自网络。
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