10 THE EVIDENCE OF THE ITALIAN

10 意大利人的证词

“And now,” said Poirot with a twinkle in his eye, “we will delight the heart of M. Bouc and see the Italian.”

“现在，”白罗说着挤了挤眼睛，“我们得让波克先生舒舒心，该见见那个意大利人了。”

Antonio Foscarelli came into the dining-car with a swift, cat-like tread. His face beamed. It was a typical Italian face, sunny-looking and swarthy.

安东尼奥·佛斯卡瑞里像只猫般地跳进了餐车，他的脸孔闪闪发亮。那是一张典型的意大利脸孔：明朗、黝黑。

He spoke French well and fluently with only a slight accent.

“他的法语说得很流利，只稍微带点口音。”

“Your name is Antonio Foscarelli?”

“你的名字是安东尼奥·佛斯卡瑞里吗？”

“Yes, Monsieur.”

“是的，先生。”

“You are, I see, a naturalised American subject?”

“你是入籍的美国公民吧？”

The American grinned. “Yes, Monsieur. It is better for my business.”

这名美国公民挤出了一丝干笑。“是的，先生。对我的生意有好处。”

“You are an agent for Ford motor cars?”

“你是福特汽车公司的代理人吗？”

“Yes, you see—”

“是的，你听我说——”

A voluble exposition followed. At the end of it anything that the three men did not know about Foscarelli’s business methods, his journeys, his income, and his opinion of the United States and most European countries seemed a negligible factor. This was not a man who had to have information dragged from him. It gushed out.

接着哇啦哇啦地滔滔不绝说起来。到后来，凡是在座的三个人从不知晓的佛斯卡瑞里经商秘诀，他的旅游，收入以及对美国与欧洲国家的看法都听过了，却没听进去几句。跟这个人问话是不必要的，他自己会涌出来的。

His good-natured, childish face beamed with satisfaction as, with a last eloquent gesture, he paused and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.

他善良、幼稚的面孔散发着满足的兴奋，终于，他作了个文雅的姿态，停了下来，用手帕擦了擦额头上的汗珠。

“So you see,” he said. “I do big business. I am up to date. I understand salesmanship!”

“所以说呀，”他说：“我做的是大买卖。我追得上时代。我也懂得推销术！”

“You have been in the United States, then, for the last ten years on and off.”

“这么说，你在过去十年来，经常在美国的喽？”

“Yes, Monsieur. Ah! well do I remember the day I first took the boat—to go to America, so far away! My mother, my little sister—”

“是呵，先生。呵！真忘不了我第一天坐船去美国的情景，好远的路程啊！我妈，我小妹——”

Poirot cut short the flood of reminiscence.

白罗阻住了他洪水般的追忆。

“During your sojourn in the United States, did you ever come across the deceased?”

“你在美国居住期间，遇见过死者吗？”

“Never. But I know the type. Oh! yes.” He snapped his fingers expressively. “It is very respectable, very well-dressed, but underneath it is all wrong. Out of my experience I should say he was the big crook. I give you my opinion for what it is worth.”

“从来没。不过他这类人我很清楚。哈！可清楚得很呢，”说着，啪地一声，两只手指响亮地弹了一声。“道貌岸然，西装革履，骨子里男盗女娼。从我的经验中看来，他准是个大坏蛋。我的看法是错不了的。”

“Your opinion is quite right,” said Poirot drily. “Ratchett was Cassetti, the kidnapper.”

“你看得很准确，“白罗淡淡地说：”罗嘉德就是卡赛提，那名绑票匪徒。“

“What did I tell you? I have learned to be very acute—to read the face. It is necessary. Only in America do they teach you the proper way to sell. I—”

“看，我说得不错吧？我看人，十拿九稳。这很有用的。只有在美国，才学得到怎么做买卖。我——”

“You remember the Armstrong case?”

“你还记得阿姆斯壮绑架案吗？”

“I do not quite remember. The name, yes? It was a little girl, a baby, was it not?”

“不太记得了。你是指这名字吗？是个小女孩，是不？”

“Yes, a very tragic affair.”

“是的，很惨的事。”

The Italian seemed the first person to demur to this view.

这名意大利大汉，似乎到目前为止，是唯一对此一观点持有异议的人。

“Ah! well, these things they happen,” he said philosophically, “in a great civilisation such as America—”

“啊呀！这种事是常有的，”他看得很淡地说：“在美国这么庞大的文明里——”

Poirot cut him short. “Did you ever come across any members of the Armstrong family?”

白罗打断了他的话：”你见过阿姆斯壮家中任何人吗？

“No, I do not think so. It is difficult to say. I will give you some figures. Last year alone, I sold—”

“没有，我想没有。很难说，让我给你们几个统计数字。去年一年里，我就卖了——”

“Monsieur, pray confine yourself to the point.”

“先生，请你话不要扯得太远。”

The Italian’s hands flung themselves out in a gesture of apology. “A thousand pardons.”

这意大利人歉然地摊了摊手说：“万分抱歉。”

“Tell me, if you please, your exact movements last night from dinner onwards.”

“请告诉我们，昨晚晚餐后你的一切行动。”

“With pleasure. I stay here as long as I can. It is more amusing. I talk to the American gentleman at my table. He sells typewriter ribbons. Then I go back to my compartment. It is empty. The miserable John Bull who shares it with me is away attending to his master. At last he comes back—very long face as usual. He will not talk—says yes and no. A miserable race, the English—not sympathetic. He sits in the corner, very stiff, reading a book, Then the conductor comes and makes our beds.”

“没问题。我在餐车里能呆多久就多呆上一会儿，比较热闹，我跟同桌的那位美国先生聊天。他卖打字带。后来，我回我房中。房里没人。与我同房的那个可怜的约翰牛去伺候他老板去了。后来，他总算回来了——还是那副死样子。他简直不说话，顶多‘是’，或‘不是’。英国人真差劲，没法子相投。他只会一本正经地坐在角落里看书。后来，列车长来了，替我们铺床。”

“Nos. 4 and 5,” murmured Poirot.

“第四与第五号卧铺。”白罗接了一句。

“Exactly—the end compartment. Mine is the upper berth. I get up there. I smoke and read. The little Englishman has, I think, the toothache. He gets out a little bottle of stuff that smells very strong. He lies in bed and groans. Presently I sleep. Whenever I wake I hear him groaning.”

“正是——在最尾的一个房间，我睡上铺，我坐在铺上抽烟、看书。那个小英国人，我看是患了牙疼。他取出一小瓶药，味道烈极了。他就躺在床上呻吟。不久，我就睡觉了。每次醒来，都听见他在那里叫喊。”

“Do you know if he left the carriage at all during the night?”

“你晓得他夜里离开过房间吗？”

“I do not think so. That, I should hear. The light from the corridor—one wakes up automatically thinking it is the customs examination at some frontier.”

“我想没有。要是有，我会听得见的。走道上的那盏灯总是亮着的——人一醒来，就会以为自己在边境上的关口检查室里呢。”

“Did he ever speak of his master? Ever express any animus against him?”

“他谈过他的老板吗？对他表示过什么反感吗？”

“I tell you he did not speak. He was not sympathetic. A fish.”

“我告诉过你他是不说话的。他根本不搭理人的。一条死鱼。”

“You smoke, you say—a pipe, cigarettes, cigar?”

“你说，你是抽烟斗、雪茄还是香烟来着？”

“Cigarettes only.”

“只抽香烟。”

Poirot proffered one, which he accepted.

白罗敬了他一支，他接了过来。

“Have you ever been to Chicago?” inquired M. Bouc.

“你去过芝加哥吗？”波克先生问。

“Oh! yes—a fine city—but I know best New York, Cleveland, Detroit. You have been to the States? No? You should go. It—”

“呵！当然——那个城真不错——不过，纽约我最熟，还有克利夫兰、底特律。你去过美国吗？没有？你真该去。那儿——”

Poirot pushed a sheet of paper across to him.

白罗往他前面推过一张纸去。

“If you will sign this, and put your permanent address, please.”

“请签字，并将你的永久地址写下来。”

The Italian wrote with a flourish. Then he rose, his smile as engaging as ever.

这意大利人龙飞凤舞地写了一遍。站起身来，脸上的笑容仍是一惯的真切。

“That is all? You do not require me further? Good day to you, Messieurs. I wish we could get out of the snow. I have an appointment in Milan.” He shook his head sadly. “I shall lose the business.” He departed.

“没事了吗？不再需要我了？待会儿见，各位。希望这风雪很快过去。我在米兰还有要事要办呢。“他一脸愁容地摇着头说：”我看我这笔生意要泡汤了。“说着，离开了餐车。

Poirot looked at his friend.

白罗看了看他的朋友。

“He has been a long time in America,” said M. Bouc, “and he is an Italian, and Italians use the knife! And they are great liars! I do not like Italians.”

“他在美国住了很久，”波克先生说：“又是个意大利人，意大利人可是喜欢动刀的！满嘴也没一句真话！我讨厌意大利人。”

“.a se voit,” said Poirot with a smile “Well, it may be that you are right, but I will point out to you, my friend, that there is absolutely no evidence against the man.”

“也得看人了。”白罗笑着说：“也许你的看法不错，不过，老朋友，我可要提醒你，我们可没有任何对他不利的证据。”

“And what about the psychology? Do not Italians stab?”

“那么你说的心理因素又该怎么讲呢？意大利人不是爱杀人的吗？”

“Assuredly,” said Poirot. “Especially in the heat of a quarrel. But this—this is a different kind of crime. I have the little idea, my friend, that this is a crime very carefully planned and staged. It is a far-sighted, long-headed crime. it is not—how shall I express it?—a Latin crime. It is a crime that shows traces of a cool, resourceful, deliberate brain—I think an Anglo-Saxon brain—”

“的确，”白罗说：“特别是在吵翻了的时候。但是，这个——这是个不同类型的罪案。朋友，我心中有个浅见，这件罪案是经过周密计划而进行的。看得远，运过脑子的罪行。这不是——该怎么说？——拉丁民族性的罪行。这个案子显示了一股冷静、虑谋与巧思的智慧——依我看该是盎格鲁·撒克逊人种的头脑。”

He picked up the last two passports.

他说着拿起了最后两本护照。

“Let us now,” he said, “see Miss Mary Debenham.”

“我们现在，”他说“就见玛丽·戴本瀚小姐吧。”