alistairmaclean.bearisland-第10部分

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everal　times；　without　result。　I　hammered　it　until　my　knuckles　rebelled；　then　kicked　it；　all　with　the　same　result：　Captain　Imrie　had　still　about　nine　hours〃　sleep　ing　up　and　the　relatively　feeble　noises　I　was　producing　had　no　hope　of　penetrating　to　the　profound　depths　of　unconsciousness　he　had　now　reached。　I　desisted。　Smithy　would　know　what　to　do。
　I　went　to　the　galley；　now　deserted　by　Haggerty；　and　passed　through　the　pantry　into　the　dining　saloon。　Mary　Darling　and　Allen　were　setting　on　a　bulkhead　settee；　all　four　hands　clasped　together；　pale…very　pale…faces　about　three　inches　apart；　gazing　into　each　other's　eyes　in　a　kind　of　mystically　miserable　enchantment。　It　was　axiomatic；　I　knew；　that　shipboard　romances　flourished　more　swiftly　than　those　on　land；　but　I　had　thought　those　phenomena　were　confined　to　the　Bahamas　and　suchlike　balmy　climes：　aboard　a　trawler　in　a　full　gale　in　the　Arctic　I　should　have　thought　that　some　of　the　romantically　essential　prerequisites　were　wholly　absent　or　at　least　present　in　only　minimal　quantities。　I　took　Captain　Imrie's　chair；　poured　myself　a　small　drink　and　said；　〃Cheers！〃
　They　straightened　and　jumped　apart　as　if　they'd　been　connected　to　electrodes　and　I'd　just　made　the　switch。　Mary　Darling　said　reproachfully：
　〃You　did　give　us　a　fright；　Dr。　Marlowe。〃
　〃I'm　sorry。〃
　〃Anyway；　we　were　just　leaving。〃
　〃Now　I'm　really　sorry。〃　I　looked　at　Allen。　〃Quite　a　change　from　university；　isn't　it？〃
　He　smiled　wanly。　〃There　is　a　difference。〃
　〃What　were　you　studying　there？〃
　〃Chemistry。〃
　〃Long？〃
　〃Three　years。　Well；　almost　three　years。〃　Again　the　wan　smile。　〃It　took　me　all　that　time　to　find　out　I　wasn't　much　good　at　it。〃
　〃And　you're　now？〃
　〃Twenty…one。〃
　〃All　the　time　in　the　world　to　find　out　what　you　are　good　at。　I　was　thirty　three　before　I　qualified　as　a　doctor。〃
　〃Thirty…three。〃　He　didn't　say　it　but　his　face　said　it　for　him：　if　he　was　that　old　when　he　qualified　what　unimaginable　burden　of　years　is　he　carrying　now？　〃What　did　you　do　before　then？〃
　〃Nothing　I'd　care　to　talk　about。　Tell　me；　you　two　were　at　the　captain's　table　for　dinner　tonight；　weren't　you？〃　They　nodded。　〃Seated　more　or　less　opposite　Antonio；　weren't　you？〃
　I　think　so；〃　Allen　said。　hat　was　a　good　start。　He　just　thought　so。
　〃He's　not　well。　I'm　trying　to　find　out　if　he　ate　something　that　disagreed　with　him；　something　he　may　have　been　allergic　to。　Either　of　you　see　what　he　had　to　eat？〃
　They　looked　at　each　other　uncertainly。
　〃Chicken？〃　I　said　encouragingly。　〃Perhaps　some　French　fries？〃
　〃I'm　sorry；　Dr。　Marlowe；〃　Mary　Darling　said。　〃I'm　afraid…well；　we're　not　very　observant。〃　No　help　from　this　quarter；　obviously：　they　were　so　lost　in　each　other　that　they　couldn't　even　remember　what　they　had　eaten。　Or　perhaps　they　just　hadn't　eaten　anything。　I　hadn't　noticed。　I　hadn't　been　very　observant　myself。　But；　then；　I　hadn't　been　expecting　a　murder　to　happen　along。
　They　were　on　their　feel？　now；　clinging　to　each　other　for　support　as　the　deck　tried　to　vanish　from　beneath　their　feel？。　I　said：　If　you're　going　below　I　wonder　if　you'd　ask　Tadeusz　if　he'd　be　kind　enough　to　e　up　and　see　me　here。　He'll　be　in　the　recreation　room。〃
　〃He　might　be　in　bed；〃　Allen　said。　〃Asleep…〃
　〃Wherever　he　is；〃　I　said　with　certainty；　〃he's　not　in　bed。〃
　Tadeusz　appeared　within　a　minute；　reeking　powerfully　of　brandy；　a　vexed　expression　on　his　aristocratic　features。　He　said　without　preamble：
　〃Damned　annoying。　Most　damned　annoying。　Do　you　know　where　I　can　find　a　master　key？　That　idiot　Antonio　has　gone　and　locked　our　cabin　door　from　the　inside　and　he　must　be　hopped　to　the　eyebrows　with　sedatives。
　Simply　can't　waken　him。　Cretin！〃
　I　produced　his　cabin　key。　〃He　didn't　lock　the　door　from　the　inside。　I　did　from　the　outside。〃　The　Count　looked　at　me　for　an　unprehending　moment；　then　mechanically　reached　for　his　flask　as　shocked　understanding　showed　in　his　face。　Not　too　much　shock；　just　a　little；　but　I　was　sure　that　what　little　there　was　was　genuine。　He　tilted　the　flask　and　two　or　three　drops　trickled　into　his　glass。　He　reached　for　the　Black　Label；　helped　himself　with　a　steady　but　generous　hand　and　drank　deeply。
　〃He　couldn't　hear　me？　He…is　beyond　hearing？〃
　〃I'm　sorry。　Something　he　ate；　I　can't　think　what　else；　some　killer　toxin；　some　powerful；　quick…acting　and　deadly　poison。〃
　〃Quite　dead？〃　I　nodded。　〃Quite　dead；〃　he　repeated。　〃And　I　told　him　to　stop　making　such　a　grand　opera　Latin　fuss　and　walked　away　and　left　a　dying　man。〃　He　drank　some　more　Scotch　and　grimaced；　an　expression　that　was　no　reflection　on　Johnnie　Walker。　〃There　are　advantages　in　being　a　lapsed　Catholic；　Dr。　Marlowe。〃
　〃Rubbish。　Sackcloth　and　ashes　not　only　don't　help；　they're　simply　just　not　called　for　here。　All　right；　so　you　didn't　suspect　there　was　anything　wrong　with　him。　I　saw　him　at　table　and　I　wasn't　any　cleverer　and　I'm　supposed　to　be　a　doctor。　And　when　you　left　him　in　the　cabin　it　was　too　late　anyway：　he　was　dying　then。〃　I　helped　him　to　some　more　Scotch　but　left　my　own　glass　untouched：　even　one　relatively　sober　mind　around　might　prove　to　be　of　some　help　although　just　how　I　couldn't　quite　see　at　that　moment。　〃You　sat　beside　him　at　dinner。　Can　you　remember　what　he　ate？〃
　〃The　usual。〃　The　Count；　it　was　clear；　was　more　shaken　than　his　aristocratic　nature　would　allow　him　to　admit。　〃Mother；　he　didn't　cat　the　usual。〃
　〃I'm　not　in　the　right　frame　of　mind　for　riddles；　Tadeusz。〃
　〃Grapefruit　and　sunflower　seeds。　That　was　about　what　he　lived　on。
　One　of　those　vegetarian　nuts。〃
　〃Walk　softly；　Tadeusz。　Those　nuts　may　yet　be　your　pallbearers。〃
　The　Count　grimaced　again。　〃A　singularly　ill…chosen　remark。　Antonio　never　ate　meat。　And　he'd　a　thing　against　potatoes。　So　all　he　had　were　the　sprouts　and　horse…radish。　I　remember　particularly　well　because　Cecil　and　I　gave　him　our　horse…radish；　to　which；　it　seems；　he　was　particularly　partial。〃　The　Count　shuddered。　〃A　barbarian　food；　fit　only　for　ignorant　Anglo…Saxon　palates。　Even　young　Cecil　has　the　grace　to　detest　that　offal。〃
　It　was　noteworthy　that　the　Count　was　the　only　person　in　the　film　unit　who　did　not　refer　to　Cecil　Golightly　as　the　Duke：　perhaps　he　thought　he　was　being　upstaged　in　the　title　stakes　but；　more　probably；　as　a　dyed…in…the　wool　aristocrat　himself；　he　objected　to　people　taking　frivolous　liberties　with　titles。
　〃He　had　fruit　juices？〃
　〃Antonio　had　his　own　homemade　barley　water。〃　The　Count　smiled　faintly。　It　was　his　contention　that　everything　that　came　out　of　a　can　had　been　adulterated　before　it　went　into　that　can。　Very　strict　on　those　matters；　was　Antonio。〃
　〃Soup？　Any　of　that？〃
　〃Oxtail。〃
　〃Of　course。　Anything　else？　That　he　ate；　I　mean。〃
　〃He　didn't　even　finish　his　main　course…well；　his　sprouts　and　radish。
　You　may　recall　that　he　left　very　hurriedly。〃
　〃I　recall。　Was　he　liable　to　seasickness？〃
　I　don't　know。　Don't　forget；　I've　known　him　no　longer　than　yourself。
　He's　been　a　bit　off…colour　for　the　past　two　days。　But；　then；　who　hasn't？〃
　I　was　trying　to　think　up　another　penetrating　question　when　John　Cummings　Goin　entered。　His　unusual　surname　he'd　inherited　from　a　French　grandfather　in　the　High　Savoy；　where；　apparently；　this　was　not　an　altogether　unmon　name。　The　film　crew；　inevitably；　referred　to　him　as　in〃　and　Goin'；　but　Goin　was　probably　wholly　unaware　of　this：　he　was　not　the　sort　of　man　with　whom　one　took　liberties。
　Any　other　person　entering　the　dining　saloon　from　the　main　deck　on　a　night　like　that　would　have　presented　an　appearance　that　would　have　varied　from　the　wind…blown　to　the　dishevelled。　Not　one　hair　of　Goin's　black；　smooth；　centre…parted；　brushed…back　hair　was　out　of　place：　had　I　been　told　that　he　eschewed　the　standard　proprietary　hairdressing　creams　in　favour　of　cowhide　glue；　I　would　have　seen　no　reason　to　doubt　it。　And　the　hair　style　was　typical　of　the　man…everything　smooth；　calm；　unruffled　；　and　totally　under　control。　In　one　area　only　did　the　parison　fall　down。　The　hair　style　was　slick；　but　Goin　wasn't：　he　was　just　plain　clever。　He　was　of　medium　height；　plump　without　being　fat；　with　a　smooth；　unlined　face。　He　was　the　only　man　I'd　ever　seen　wearing　pince…nez；　and　that　only　for　the　finest　of　fine　print　which；　in　Goin's　line　of　business；　came　his　way　quite　often：　the　pince…nez　looked　so　inevitable　that　it　was　unthinkable　that　he　should　ever　wear　any　other　type　of　reading　aid。　He　was；　above　all；　a　civilised　man　and　urbane　in　the　best　sense　of　the　word。
　He　picked　up　a　glass　from　a　rack；　timed　the　wild　staggering　of　the　Morning　Rose　to　walk　quickly　and　surely　to　the　scat　on　my　right；　picked　up　the　Black　Label　and　said：　〃May　l？〃
　〃Easy　e；　easy　go；〃　I　said。　〃I've　just　stolen　it　from　Mr。　Gerran's　private　supply。〃
　〃Confession　noted。〃　He　helped　himself。　〃This　makes　me　an　accessory。　Cheers。〃
　I　assume　you've　just　e　from　Mr。　Gerran；〃　I　said。
　〃Yes。　He's　most　upset。　Sad；　sad；　about　that　poor　young　boy。　An　unfortunate　business。〃　That　；…；as　something　else　about　Goin；　he　always　got　his　priorities　right：　the　average　pany　accountant；　confronted　with　the　news　of　the　death　of　a　member　of　a　team；　would　immediately　have　wondered　how　the　death　would　affect　the　project　as　a　whole：　Goin　saw　the　human　side　of　it　first。　Or；　I　thought；　he　spoke　of　it　first：　I　knew　I　was　being　unfair　to　him。　H