无人生还34
时间：2026-03-19 03:05:26
（单词翻译:单击）
Chapter 7
I
After breakfast, Emily Brent had suggested to Vera Claythorne that they
should walk to the summit again and watch for the boat. Vera had acqui-
esced.
The wind had freshened. Small white crests were appearing on the sea.
There were no fishing boats out—and no sign of the motor-boat.
The actual village of Sticklehaven could not be seen, only the hill above
it, a jutting out cliff of red rock concealed the actual little bay.
Emily Brent said:
‘The man who brought us out yesterday seemed a dependable sort of
person. It is really very odd that he should be so late this morning.’
Vera did not answer. She was fighting down a rising feeling of panic.
She said to herself angrily:
‘You must keep cool. This isn’t like you. You’ve always had excellent
nerves.’
Aloud she said after a minute or two:
‘I wish he would come. I—I want to get away.’
Emily Brent said dryly:
‘I’ve no doubt we all do.’
Vera said:
‘It’s all so extraordinary…There seems no—no meaning in it all.’
The elderly woman beside her said briskly:
‘I’m very annoyed with myself for being so easily taken in. Really that
letter is absurd when one comes to examine it. But I had no doubts at the
time—none at all.’
Vera murmured mechanically: ‘I suppose not.’
‘One takes things for granted too much,’ said Emily Brent.
Vera drew a deep shuddering breath.
She said:
‘Do you really think—what you said at breakfast?’
‘Be a little more precise, my dear. To what in particular are you refer-
ring?’
Vera said in a low voice:
‘Do you really think that Rogers and his wife did away with that old
lady?’
Emily Brent gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Then she said:
‘Personally, I am quite sure of it. What do you think?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
Emily Brent said:
‘Everything goes to support the idea. The way the woman fainted. And
the man dropped the coffee tray, remember. Then the way he spoke about
it—it didn’t ring true. Oh, yes, I’m afraid they did it.’
Vera said:
‘The way she looked—scared of her own shadow! I’ve never seen a wo-
man look so frightened…She must have been always haunted by it…’
Miss Brent murmured:
‘I remember a text that hung in my nursery as a child. “Be sure thy sin
will find thee out.” It’s very true, that. Be sure thy sin will find thee out.’
Vera scrambled to her feet. She said:
‘But, Miss Brent—Miss Brent—in that case—’
‘Yes, my dear?’
‘The others? What about the others?’
‘I don’t quite understand you.’
‘All the other accusations—they—they weren’t true? But if it’s true about
the Rogerses—’ She stopped, unable to make her chaotic thought clear.
Emily Brent’s brow, which had been frowning perplexedly, cleared.
She said:
‘Ah, I understand you now. Well, there is that Mr Lombard. He admits to
having abandoned twenty men to their deaths.’
Vera said: ‘They were only natives…’
Emily Brent said sharply:
‘Black or white, they are our brothers.’
Vera thought:
‘Our black brothers—our black brothers. Oh, I’m going to laugh. I’m hys-
terical. I’m not myself…’
Emily Brent continued thoughtfully.
‘Of course, some of the other accusations were very far fetched and ri-
diculous. Against the judge, for instance, who was only doing his duty in
his public capacity. And the ex-Scotland Yard man. My own case, too.’
She paused and then went on:
‘Naturally, considering the circumstances, I was not going to say any-
thing last night. It was not a fit subject to discuss before gentlemen.’
‘No?’
Vera listened with interest. Miss Brent continued serenely.
‘Beatrice Taylor was in service with me. Not a nice girl—as I found out
too late. I was very much deceived in her. She had nice manners and was
very clean and willing. I was very pleased with her. Of course, all that was
the sheerest hypocrisy! She was a loose girl with no morals. Disgusting! It
was some time before I found out that she was what they call “in trouble”.’
She paused, her delicate nose wrinkling itself in distaste. ‘It was a great
shock to me. Her parents were decent folk, too, who had brought her up
very strictly. I’m glad to say they did not condone her behaviour.’
Vera said, staring at Miss Brent:
‘What happened?’
‘Naturally I did not keep her an hour under my roof. No one shall ever
say that I condoned immorality.’
Vera said in a lower voice:
‘What happened—to her?’
Miss Brent said:
‘The abandoned creature, not content with having one sin on her consci-
ence, committed a still graver sin. She took her own life.’
Vera whispered, horror-struck:
‘She killed herself?’
‘Yes, she threw herself into the river.’
Vera shivered.
She stared at the calm delicate profile of Miss Brent. She said:
‘What did you feel like when you knew she’d done that? Weren’t you
sorry? Didn’t you blame yourself?’
Emily Brent drew herself up.
‘I? I had nothing with which to reproach myself.’
Vera said:
‘But if your—hardness—drove her to it.’
Emily Brent said sharply:
‘Her own action—her own sin—that was what drove her to it. If she had
behaved like a decent modest young woman none of this would have
happened.’
She turned her face to Vera. There was no self-reproach, no uneasiness
in those eyes. They were hard and self-righteous. Emily Brent sat on the
summit of Soldier Island, encased in her own armour of virtue.
The little elderly spinster was no longer slightly ridiculous to Vera.
Suddenly—she was terrible.
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