复仇女神3
时间：2026-01-29 07:00:02
（单词翻译:单击）
Two
CODE WORD NEMESIS
I
It was about a week or so after Mr. Rafiel’s death that Miss Marple picked
up a letter from her breakfast tray, and looked at it for a moment before
opening it. The other two letters that had come by this morning’s post
were bills, or just possibly receipts for bills. In either case they were not of
any particular interest. This letter might be.
A London postmark, typewritten address, a long, good quality envelope.
Miss Marple slit it neatly with the paper knife she always kept handy on
her tray. It was headed, Messrs. Broadribb and Schuster, Solicitors and
Notaries Public, with an address in Bloomsbury. It asked her, in suitable
courteous and legal phraseology, to call upon them one day in the follow-
ing week, at their office, to discuss a proposition that might be to her ad-
vantage. Thursday, the 24th was suggested. If that date was not conveni-
ent, perhaps she would let them know what date she would be likely to be
in London in the near future. They added that they were the solicitors to
the late Mr. Rafiel, with whom they understood she had been acquainted.
Miss Marple frowned in some slight puzzlement. She got up rather more
slowly than usual, thinking about the letter she had received. She was es-
corted downstairs by Cherry, who was meticulous in hanging about in the
hall so as to make sure that Miss Marple did not come to grief walking by
herself down the staircase, which was of the old-fashioned kind which
turned a sharp corner in the middle of its run.
“You take very good care of me, Cherry,” said Miss Marple.
“Got to,” said Cherry, in her usual idiom. “Good people are scarce.”
“Well, thank you for the compliment,” said Miss Marple, arriving safely
with her last foot on the ground floor.
“Nothing the matter, is there?” asked Cherry. “You look a bit rattled like,
if you know what I mean.”
“No, nothing’s the matter,” said Miss Marple. “I had rather an unusual
letter from a firm of solicitors.”
“Nobody is suing you for anything, are they?” said Cherry, who was in-
clined to regard solicitors’ letters as invariably associated with disaster of
some kind.
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” said Miss Marple. “Nothing of that kind. They
just asked me to call upon them next week in London.”
“Perhaps you’ve been left a fortune,” said Cherry, hopefully.
“That, I think, is very unlikely,” said Miss Marple.
“Well, you never know,” said Cherry.
Settling herself in her chair, and taking her knitting out of its em-
broidered knitting bag, Miss Marple considered the possibility of Mr.
Rafiel having left her a fortune. It seemed even more unlikely than when
Cherry had suggested it. Mr. Rafiel, she thought, was not that kind of a
man.
It was not possible for her to go on the date suggested. She was attend-
ing a meeting of the Women’s Institute to discuss the raising of a sum for
building a small additional couple of rooms. But she wrote, naming a day
in the following week. In due course her letter was answered and the ap-
pointment definitely confirmed. She wondered what Messrs. Broadribb
and Schuster were like. The letter had been signed by J. R. Broadribb who
was, apparently, the senior partner. It was possible, Miss Marple thought,
that Mr. Rafiel might have left her some small memoir or souvenir in his
will. Perhaps some book on rare flowers that had been in his library and
which he thought would please an old lady who was keen on gardening.
Or perhaps a cameo brooch which had belonged to some great-aunt of his.
She amused herself by these fancies. They were only fancies, she thought,
because in either case it would merely be a case of the Executors—if these
lawyers were the Executors — forwarding her by post any such object.
They would not have wanted an interview.
“Oh well,” said Miss Marple, “I shall know next Tuesday.”
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