复仇女神22
时间：2026-01-29 07:21:54
（单词翻译:单击）
Eleven
ACCIDENT
I
Miss Marple’s tea was brought at seven thirty the following morning so as
to allow her plenty of time to get up and pack her few belongings. She was
just closing her small suitcase when there was a rather hurried tap on the
door and Clotilde came in, looking upset.
“Oh dear, Miss Marple, there is a young man downstairs who has called
to see you. Emlyn Price. He is on the tour with you and they sent him
here.”
“Of course, I remember him. Yes. Quite young?”
“Oh yes. Very modern-looking, and a lot of hair and all that, but he has
really come to—well, to break some bad news to you. There has been, I am
sorry to say, an accident.”
“An accident?” Miss Marple stared. “You mean—to the coach? There has
been an accident on the road? Someone has been hurt?”
“No. No, it was not the coach. There was no trouble there. It was in the
course of the expedition yesterday afternoon. There was a great deal of
wind you may remember, though I don’t think that had anything to do
with it. People strayed about a bit, I think. There is a regular path, but you
can also climb up and go across the downs. Both ways lead to the Me-
morial Tower on the top of Bonaventure—where they were all making for.
People got separated a bit and I suppose, really, there was no one actually
guiding them or looking after them which, perhaps, there ought to have
been. People aren’t very sure-footed always and the slope overhanging the
gorge is very steep. There was a bad fall of stones or rocks which came
crashing down the hillside and knocked someone out on the path below.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple, “I am sorry. I am most terribly sorry. Who
was it who was hurt?”
“A Miss Temple or Tenderdon, I understand.”
“Elizabeth Temple,” said Miss Marple. “Oh dear, I am sorry. I talked to
her a good deal. I sat in the next seat to her on the coach. She is, I believe,
a retired schoolmistress, a very well known one.”
“Of course,” said Clotilde, “I know her quite well. She was Headmistress
of Fallowfield, quite a famous school. I’d no idea she was on this tour. She
retired as Headmistress, I think a year or two ago, and there is a new,
rather young Headmistress there now with rather advanced progressive
ideas. But Miss Temple is not very old, really, she’s about sixty, I should
think, and very active, fond of climbing and walking and all the rest of it.
This really seems most unfortunate. I hope she’s not badly hurt. I haven’t
heard any details yet.”
“This is quite ready now,” said Miss Marple, snapping down the lid of
her suitcase. “I will come down at once and see Mr. Price.”
Clotilde seized the suitcase.
“Let me. I can carry this perfectly. Come down with me, and be careful
of the stairs.”
Miss Marple came down. Emlyn Price was waiting for her. His hair was
looking even wilder than usual and he was wearing a splendid array of
fancy boots and a leather jerkin and brilliant emerald green trousers.
“Such an unfortunate business,” he said, seizing Miss Marple’s hand. “I
thought I’d come along myself and—well, break it to you about the acci-
dent. I expect Miss Bradbury- Scott has told you. It’s Miss Temple. You
know. The school dame. I don’t know quite what she was doing or what
happened, but some stones, or rather boulders, rolled down from above.
It’s rather a precipitous slope and it knocked her out and they had to take
her off to hospital with concussion last night. I gather she’s rather bad.
Anyway, the tour for today is cancelled and we are stopping on here to-
night.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple, “I am sorry. I’m very sorry.”
“I think they’ve decided not to go on today because they really have to
wait and see what the medical report is, so we are proposing to spend one
more night here at the Golden Boar and to rearrange the tour a little, so
that perhaps we shall miss out altogether going to Grangmering which we
were going to do tomorrow, and which is not very interesting really, or so
they say. Mrs. Sandbourne has gone off early to the hospital to see how
things are this morning. She’s going to join us at the Golden Boar for cof-
fee at 11 o’clock. I thought perhaps you’d like to come along and hear the
latest news.”
“I’ll certainly come along with you,” said Miss Marple. “Of course. At
once.”
She turned to say good-bye to Clotilde and Mrs. Glynne who had joined
her.
“I must thank you so much,” she said. “You have been so kind and it has
been so delightful to have these two nights here. I feel so rested and
everything. Most unfortunate this has occurred.”
“If you would like to spend another night,” said Mrs. Glynne, “I am sure
—” She looked at Clotilde.
It occurred to Miss Marple, who had as sharp a sideways glance as any-
one could desire, that Clotilde had a slightly disapproving look. She almost
shook her head, though it was such a small movement that it was hardly
noticeable. But she was, Miss Marple thought, hushing down the sugges-
tion that Mrs. Glynne was making.
“… although of course I expect it would be nicer for you to be with the
others and to—”
“Oh yes, I think it would be better,” said Miss Marple. “I shall know then
what the plans are and what to do about things, and perhaps I could be of
help in some way. One never knows. So thank you again very much. It will
not be difficult, I expect, to get a room at the Golden Boar.” She looked at
Emlyn, who said reassuringly, “That’ll be all right. Several rooms have
been vacated today, They won’t be full at all. Mrs. Sandbourne, I think, has
booked for all the party to stay there tonight, and tomorrow we shall see—
well, we shall see how this all goes on.”
Good-byes were said again and thanks. Emlyn Price took Miss Marple’s
belongings and started out at a good striding pace.
“It’s really only just round the corner, and then the first street to the
left,” he said.
“Yes, I passed it yesterday, I think. Poor Miss Temple. I do hope she’s not
badly hurt.”
“I think she is rather,” said Emlyn Price. “Of course, you know what doc-
tors are, and hospital people. They say the same thing always: ‘as well as
can be expected.’ There’s no local hospital—they had to take her to Carris-
town which is about eight miles away. Anyway, Mrs. Sandbourne will be
back with the news by the time we’ve fixed you up at the hotel.”
They got there to find the tour assembled in the coffee room and coffee
and morning buns and pastries were being served. Mr. and Mrs. Butler
were talking at the moment.
“Oh, it’s just too, too tragic this happening,” said Mrs. Butler. “Just too
upsetting, isn’t it? Just when we were all so happy and enjoying
everything so much. Poor Miss Temple. And I always thought she was very
sure-footed. But there, you know, you never can tell, can you, Henry?”
“No, indeed,” said Henry. “No, indeed. I am wondering really—yes, our
time’s very short you know—whether we hadn’t better—well, give up this
tour at this point here. Not continue with it. It seems to me that there’s
bound to be a bit of difficulty resuming things until we know definitely. If
this was—well—I mean, if this should be so serious that it could prove
fatal, there might—well—I mean there might have to be an inquest or
something of that kind.”
“Oh Henry, don’t say dreadful things like that!”
“I’m sure,” said Miss Cooke, “that you are being a little too pessimistic,
Mr. Butler. I am sure that things couldn’t be as serious as that.”
In his foreign voice Mr. Caspar said: “But yes, they are serious. I hear
yesterday. When Mrs. Sandbourne talk on telephone to doctor. It is very,
very serious. They say she has concussion bad—very bad. A special doctor
he is coming to look at her and see if he can operate or if impossible. Yes—
it is all very bad.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Lumley. “If there’s any doubt, perhaps we ought to
go home, Mildred. I must look up the trains, I think.” She turned to Mrs.
Butler. “You see, I have made arrangements about my cats with the neigh-
bours, and if I was delayed a day or two it might make great difficulties for
everyone.”
“Well, it’s no good our working ourselves up too much,” said Mrs. Rise-
ley-Porter, in her deep, authoritative voice. “Joanna, put this bun in the
wastepaper basket, will you? It is really quite uneatable. Most unpleasant
jam. But I don’t want to leave it on my plate. It might make for bad feel-
ing.”
Joanna got rid of the bun. She said:
“Do you think it would be all right if Emlyn and I went out for a walk? I
mean, just saw something of the town. It’s not much good our sitting about
here, making gloomy remarks, is it? We can’t do anything.”
“I think you’d be very wise to go out,” said Miss Cooke.
“Yes, you go along,” said Miss Barrow before Mrs. Riseley-Porter could
speak.
Miss Cooke and Miss Barrow looked at each other and sighed, shaking
their heads.
“The grass was very slippery,” said Miss Barrow. “I slid once or twice
myself, you know, on that very short turf.”
“And the stones, too,” said Miss Cooke. “Quite a shower of small stones
fell down just as I was turning a corner on the path. Yes, one struck me on
the shoulder quite sharply.”
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