沉睡的谋杀案9
时间：2026-01-29 07:37:18
（单词翻译:单击）
III
On her way to call upon her friends, Colonel and Mrs. Bantry, Miss Marple
met Colonel Bantry coming along the drive, his gun in his hand and his
spaniel at his heels. He welcomed her cordially.
“Glad to see you back again. How’s London?”
Miss Marple said that London was very well. Her nephew had taken her
to several plays.
“Highbrow ones, I bet. Only care for a musical comedy myself.”
Miss Marple said that she had been to a Russian play that was very in-
teresting, though perhaps a little too long.
“Russians!” said Colonel Bantry explosively. He had once been given a
novel by Dostoievsky to read in a nursing home.
He added that Miss Marple would find Dolly in the garden.
Mrs. Bantry was almost always to be found in the garden. Gardening
was her passion. Her favourite literature was bulb catalogues and her con-
versation dealt with primulas, bulbs, flowering shrubs and alpine novel-
ties. Miss Marple’s first view of her was a substantial posterior clad in
faded tweed.
At the sound of approaching steps, Mrs. Bantry reassumed an erect posi-
tion with a few creaks and winces, her hobby had made her rheumaticky,
wiped her hot brow with an earth-stained hand and welcomed her friend.
“Heard you were back, Jane,” she said. “Aren’t my new delphiniums do-
ing well? Have you seen these new little gentians? I’ve had a bit of trouble
with them, but I think they’re all set now. What we need is rain. It’s been
terribly dry.” She added, “Esther told me you were ill in bed.” Esther was
Mrs. Bantry’s cook and liaison officer with the village. “I’m glad to see it’s
not true.”
“Just a little overtired,” said Miss Marple. “Dr. Haydock thinks I need
some sea air. I’m rather run-down.”
“Oh, but you couldn’t go away now,” said Mrs. Bantry. “This is absolutely
the best time of the year in the garden. Your border must be just coming
into flower.”
“Dr. Haydock thinks it would be advisable.”
“Well, Haydock’s not such a fool as some doctors,” admitted Mrs. Bantry
grudgingly.
“I was wondering, Dolly, about that cook of yours.”
“Which cook? Do you want a cook? You don’t mean that woman who
drank, do you?”
“No, no, no. I mean the one who made such delicious pastry. With a hus-
band who was the butler.”
“Oh, you mean the Mock Turtle,” said Mrs. Bantry with immediate re-
cognition. “Woman with a deep mournful voice who always sounded as
though she was going to burst into tears. She was a good cook. Husband
was a fat, rather lazy man. Arthur always said he watered the whisky. I
don’t know. Pity there’s always one of a couple that’s unsatisfactory. They
got left a legacy by some former employer and they went off and opened a
boardinghouse on the south coast.”
“That’s just what I thought. Wasn’t it at Dillmouth?”
“That’s right. 14 Sea Parade, Dillmouth.”
“I was thinking that as Dr. Haydock has suggested the seaside I might go
to—was their name Saunders?”
“Yes. That’s an excellent idea, Jane. You couldn’t do better. Mrs. Saun-
ders will look after you well, and as it’s out of the season they’ll be glad to
get you and won’t charge very much. With good cooking and sea air you’ll
soon pick up.”
“Thank you, Dolly,” said Miss Marple, “I expect I shall.”
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