沉睡的谋杀案8
时间：2026-01-29 07:37:17
（单词翻译:单击）
II
On the following day, news went round the village of St. Mary Mead that
Miss Marple was at home again. She was seen in the High Street at eleven
o’clock. She called at the Vicarage at ten minutes to twelve. That afternoon
three of the gossipy ladies of the village called upon her and obtained her
impressions of the gay Metropolis and, this tribute to politeness over,
themselves plunged into details of an approaching battle over the fancy-
work stall at the Fête and the position of the tea tent.
Later that evening Miss Marple could be seen as usual in her garden,
but for once her activities were more concentrated on the depredations of
weeds than on the activities of her neighbours. She was distraite at her
frugal evening meal, and hardly appeared to listen to her little maid
Evelyn’s spirited account of the goings-on of the local chemist. The next
day she was still distraite, and one or two people, including the Vicar’s
wife, remarked upon it. That evening Miss Marple said that she did not
feel very well and took to her bed. The following morning she sent for Dr.
Haydock.
Dr. Haydock had been Miss Marple’s physician, friend and ally for many
years. He listened to her account of her symptoms, gave her an examina-
tion, then sat back in his chair and waggled his stethoscope at her.
“For a woman of your age,” he said, “and in spite of that misleading frail
appearance, you’re in remarkably good fettle.”
“I’m sure my general health is sound,” said Miss Marple. “But I confess I
do feel a little overtired—a little run-down.”
“You’ve been gallivanting about. Late nights in London.”
“That, of course. I do find London a little tiring nowadays. And the air—
so used up. Not like fresh seaside air.”
“The air of St. Mary Mead is nice and fresh.”
“But often damp and rather muggy. Not, you know, exactly bracing.”
Dr. Haydock eyed her with a dawning of interest.
“I’ll send you round a tonic,” he said obligingly.
“Thank you, Doctor. Easton’s syrup is always very helpful.”
“There’s no need for you to do my prescribing for me, woman.”
“I wondered if, perhaps, a change of air—?”
Miss Marple looked questioningly at him with guileless blue eyes.
“You’ve just been away for three weeks.”
“I know. But to London which, as you say, is enervating. And then up
North—a manufacturing district. Not like bracing sea air.”
Dr. Haydock packed up his bag. Then he turned round, grinning.
“Let’s hear why you sent for me,” he said. “Just tell me what it’s to be
and I’ll repeat it after you. You want my professional opinion that what
you need is sea air—”
“I knew you’d understand,” said Miss Marple gratefully.
“Excellent thing, sea air. You’d better go to Eastbourne right away, or
your health may suffer seriously.”
“Eastbourne, I think, is rather cold. The downs, you know.”
“Bournemouth, then, or the Isle of Wight.”
Miss Marple twinkled at him.
“I always think a small place is much pleasanter.”
Dr. Haydock sat down again.
“My curiosity is roused. What small seaside town are you suggesting?”
“Well, I had thought of Dillmouth.”
“Pretty little place. Rather dull. Why Dillmouth?”
For a moment or two Miss Marple was silent. The worried look had re-
turned to her eyes. She said: “Supposing that one day, by accident, you
turned up a fact that seemed to indicate that many years ago—nineteen or
twenty—a murder had occurred. That fact was known to you alone, noth-
ing of the kind had ever been suspected or reported. What would you do
about it?”
“Murder in retrospect in fact?”
“Just exactly that.”
Haydock reflected for a moment.
“There had been no miscarriage of justice? Nobody had suffered as a
result of this crime?”
“As far as one can see, no.”
“Hm. Murder in retrospect. Sleeping murder. Well, I’ll tell you. I’d let
sleeping murder lie—that’s what I’d do. Messing about with murder is
dangerous. It could be very dangerous.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“People say a murderer always repeats his crimes. That’s not true.
There’s a type who commits a crime, manages to get away with it, and is
darned careful never to stick his neck out again. I won’t say they live hap-
pily ever after—I don’t believe that’s true—there are many kinds of retri-
bution. But outwardly at least all goes well. Perhaps that was so in the case
of Madeleine Smith or again in the case of Lizzie Borden. It was not
proven in the case of Madeleine Smith and Lizzie was acquitted — but
many people believe both of those women were guilty. I could name you
others. They never repeated their crimes—one crime gave them what they
wanted and they were content. But suppose some danger had menaced
them? I take it your killer, whoever he or she is, was one of that kind. He
committed a crime and got away with it and nobody suspected. But sup-
posing somebody goes poking about, digging into things, turning up stones
and exploring avenues and finally, perhaps, hitting the target? What’s
your killer going to do about it? Just stay there smiling while the hunt
comes nearer and nearer? No, if there’s no principle involved, I’d say let it
alone.” He repeated his former phrase: “Let sleeping murder lie.”
He added firmly: “And those are my orders to you. Let the whole thing
alone.”
“But it’s not I who am involved. It’s two very delightful children. Let me
tell you!”
She told him the story and Haydock listened.
“Extraordinary,” he said when she had finished. “Extraordinary coincid-
ence. Extraordinary business altogether. I suppose you see what the im-
plications are?”
“Oh, of course. But I don’t think it’s occurred to them yet.”
“It will mean a good deal of unhappiness and they’ll wish they’d never
meddled with the thing. Skeletons should be kept in their cupboards. Still,
you know, I can quite see young Giles’s point of view. Dash it all, I couldn’t
leave the thing alone myself. Even now, I’m curious….”
He broke off and directed a stern glance at Miss Marple.
“So that’s what you’re doing with your excuses to get to Dillmouth. Mix-
ing yourself up in something that’s no concern of yours.”
“Not at all, Dr. Haydock. But I’m worried about those two. They’re very
young and inexperienced and much too trusting and credulous. I feel I
ought to be there to look after them.”
“So that’s why you’re going. To look after them! Can’t you ever leave
murder alone, woman? Even murder in retrospect?”
Miss Marple gave a small prim smile.
“But you do think, don’t you, that a few weeks at Dillmouth would be be-
neficial to my health?”
“More likely to be the end of you,” said Dr. Haydock. “But you won’t
listen to me!”
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