Chapter 3 Poirot Refuses a Case

3 白罗拒绝接案

M. Hercule Poirot was a little late in entering the luncheon-car on the following day. He had risen early, breakfasted almost alone, and had spent the morning going over the notes of the case that was recalling him to London. He had seen little of his travelling companion.

第二天中午，赫邱里·白罗先生进入餐车时，稍嫌晚了一些。他起得很早，几乎是一个人用了早餐，整个上竿都消磨在阅读奉召返回伦敦办案的文件上了。他始终未曾与其他旅客照面。

M. Bouc, who was already seated, gesticulated a greeting and summoned his friend to the empty place opposite him. Poirot sat down and soon found himself in the favoured position of the table which was served first and with the choicest morsels. The food, too, was unusually good.

波克先生已在餐车旁坐定，见白罗进来，就打了招呼并邀他过来共进午餐。白罗一坐下来，就发现自己的确选对了桌子，因为与波克进餐不仅服务最佳，面包片种类特多，而且佳馐也出奇的丰盛。

It was not till they were eating a delicate cream cheese that M. Bouc allowed his attention to wander to matters other than nourishment. He was at the stage of a meal when one becomes philosophic.

一直到他们进用爽口乳酪甜点时，波克先生才将口腔享受的注意力转移到其他事物上。人们在吃最后一道菜——甜点——的时刻，是容易感慨人生的。

‘Ah!’ he sighed. ‘If I had but the pen of a Balzac! I would depict this scene.’

“啊！”他舒了一口气说：“如果我有巴尔扎克的才华，我要好好描述一番这餐车中的情景。”

He waved his hand.

‘It is an idea, that,’ said Poirot.

“有道理。”白罗说。

‘Ah, you agree? It has not been done, I think? And yet—it lends itself to romance, my friend. All around us are people, of all classes, of all nationalities, of all ages. For three days these people, these strangers to one another, are brought together. They sleep and eat under one roof, they cannot get away from each other. At the end of three days they part, they go their several ways, never, perhaps, to see each other again.’

“喔？你也有此同感？还没有人写过吗？不过，老兄，你看气氛的确是很传奇性的。坐在我们四周有各色的人等，不同的阶层、不同国籍、不同的年龄。三天的旅程将与这些互不相识的人聚在了一起，在一条列车上同吃同睡，谁也逃不开谁。三天过后，彼此分手各奔前程，也许一辈子再也见不到了。”

‘And yet,’ said Poirot, ‘suppose an accident—’

“而且，”白罗说：“说不定还会发生点意外的事——”

‘Ah no, my friend—’

“免了吧，”我的老兄——”

‘From your point of view it would be regrettable, I agree. But nevertheless let us just for one moment suppose it. Then, perhaps, all these here are linked together—by death.’

“当然，自你的立场看来，是十分不妙的。不过，我们无妨假想一番。假定这一伙人是被——死神——揪到一块儿的。”

‘Some more wine,’ said M. Bouc, hastily pouring it out. ‘You are morbid, mon cher. It is, perhaps, the digestion.’

“再来点洒吧，“波克先生慌忙地斟满了两杯。”我看，老兄，你有点不大健全，也许是消化不良吧？“

‘It is true,’ agreed Poirot, ‘that the food in Syria was not, perhaps, quite suited to my stomach.’

“的确，”白罗应和着说：“叙利亚的钦食是有些不对我的肠胃。”

He sipped his wine. Then, leaning back, he ran his eye thoughtfully round the dining-car. There were thirteen people seated there and, as M. Bouc had said, of all classes and nationalities. He began to study them.

他啜了一口葡萄酒，把身子朝后靠了过去，眼光往餐车扫了一巡，车中共有十三个人。正如波克先生所说，真是各色人等，不同国籍。他开始逐一地观察。

At the table opposite them were three men. They were, he guessed, single travellers graded and placed there by the unerring judgment of the restaurant attendants. A big, swarthy Italian was picking his teeth with gusto. Opposite him a spare, neat Englishman had the expressionless disapproving face of the well-trained servant. Next to the Englishman was a big American in a loud suit—possibly a commercial traveller.

他们对面坐着三个男人。三个单独旅行的客人，经百无一失的随车服务生评鉴之后，安置在同一桌上的。一名粗大黝黑的意大利人，正在回味无穷地猛剔牙齿。在他对面，坐着一个干瘦、整洁的英国人，一脸标准训练有素的英国管家不以为然的神色。坐在他旁边的是个穿着俗耀的美国人，看样子是个跑码头的生意人。

‘You’ve got to put it over big,’ he was saying in a loud nasal voice.

“要做嘛，就气派大点。”他扯开带有鼻音的大嗓门说道。

The Italian removed his toothpick to gesticulate with it freely.

那名意大利人拔出牙缝里的牙签，捏在手指间挥动着。

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘That whatta I say alla de time.’

“那可不是，”他说：“我早就这么说的。”

The Englishman looked out of the window and coughed.

那英国人朝着窗外咳嗽了一声。

Poirot’s eye passed on.

白罗将视线转了开去。

At a small table, sitting very upright, was one of the ugliest old ladies he had ever seen. It was an ugliness of distinction—it fascinated rather than repelled. She sat very upright. Round her neck was a collar of very large pearls which, improbable though it seemed, were real. Her hands were covered with rings. Her sable coat was pushed back on her shoulders. A very small expensive black toque was hideously unbecoming to the yellow, toad-like face beneath it.

另一张小桌子上，笔直地坐着一个他毕生所见最丑的老女人。那是一种极突出的丑，令人迷惑而不觉厌恶。她背脊挺直地坐着，颈上一串珍珠链，尽管颗颗大得出奇，却都是真的。手指上戴满了戒指。黑貂皮大衣，往后披在肩上。一顶小巧、昂贵的黑天鹅绒帽子，极不相衬地顶在一张焦黄、蛤蟆般的脸上。

She was speaking now to the restaurant attendant in a clear, courteous but completely autocratic tone.

她正与侍者说话，话声礼貌、清晰，却充满威严的气派。

‘You will be sufficiently amiable to place in my compartment a bottle of mineral water and a large glass of orange juice. You will arrange that I shall have chicken cooked without sauces for dinner this evening—also some boiled fish.’

“不介意的话，请给我卧车铺房中放一瓶矿泉水和一大杯橙汁。今天晚餐为我准备不加盐的鸡肉，还有煮鱼。”

The attendant replied respectfully that it should be done.

侍者遵命，应答照办。

She gave a slight gracious nod of the head and rose. Her glance caught Poirot’s and swept over him with the nonchalance of the uninterested aristocrat.

她略表谢意地轻轻点了下头站起身来。她的眼神触到了白罗的目光之后，一副贵夫人气派，全然视若无睹地掠了过去。

‘That is Princess Dragomiroff,’ said M. Bouc in a low tone. ‘She is a Russian. Her husband realized all this money before the Revolution and invested it abroad. She is extremely rich. A cosmopolitan.’

“那是德瑞格米罗夫郡主，”波克先生悄声地说：“俄国人。她丈夫在革命前囤了一大笔钱在海外投资。她现在富有得很，是个环游四海的贵夫人。”

Poirot nodded. He had heard of Princess Dragomiroff.

白罗点头表示他早久仰过她的大名。

‘She is a personality,’ said M. Bouc. ‘Ugly as sin, but she makes herself felt. You agree?’

“的确是个名人，”波克先生说：“丑得要命，却有股摄人的尊严，你说对吧？”

Poirot agreed.

白罗也很同意。

At another of the large tables Mary Debenham was sitting with two other women. One of them was a tall middle-aged woman in a plaid blouse and tweed skirt. She had a mass of faded yellow hair unbecomingly arranged in a large bun, wore glasses, and had a long, mild, amiable face rather like a sheep. She was listening to the third woman, a stout, pleasant-faced, elderly woman who was talking in a slow clear monotone which showed no signs of pausing for breath or coming to a stop.

在一张大桌子上，玛丽·戴本瀚小姐与另两名妇人分坐。其中一个是个高大的中年妇人，穿一身花格子上衣，斜纹呢裙。一头土黄色乱发，怪状地在脑后盘了一个大髻，戴一副眼镜，柔顺的长脸，看起来像只绵羊。她正在听另一个肥胖、满脸堆着笑容的老女人说话。那老女人声音低沉，清晰而单调，喋喋不休，连气都不喘一口：

‘…And so my daughter said, “Why,” she said “you just can’t apply Amurrican methods in this country. It’s just natural to the folks here to be indolent,” she said. “They just haven’t got any hustle in them.” But all the same you’d be surprised to know what our college there is doing. They’ve gotten a fine staff of teachers. I guess there’s nothing like education. We’ve got to apply our Western ideals and teach the East to recognize them. My daughter says—’

“……我女儿总是对我说：”唉！‘她说：“美国的法子在这些国家是行不通的。这里的人没知没觉是很自然的事，’她说：”因为他们根本懒得全没有精力——‘。你们可不晓得我们女儿的大学有多棒呵，老师都是第一流的。没有比教育更重要的了。我们西方人真该教导这些东方人，好让他们认清自己呀！我女儿就说——”

The train plunged into a tunnel. The calm monotonous voice was drowned.

列车钻进一节隧道，这才掩没了那老女人的单调独白。

At the next table, a small one, sat Colonel Arbuthnot—alone. His gaze was fixed upon the back of Mary Debenham’s head. They were not sitting together. Yet it could easily have been managed. Why?

她们旁边的一张小桌子上，阿伯斯诺上校一个人坐着。他的目光盯牢在玛丽·戴本瀚修长的后颈上。他们两人竟没有同桌进餐，这应该轻易可以安排的呵。却为了什么？

Perhaps, Poirot thought, Mary Debenham had demurred. A governess learns to be careful. Appearances are important. A girl with her living to get has to be discreet.

也许，白罗暗自揣摩，玛丽·戴本瀚谨慎起来了，女家庭教师是要处处留心的。仪表是很重要的，像她这样的身份，一举一动都需分外小心的。

His glance shifted to the other side of the carriage. At the far end, against the wall, was a middle-aged woman dressed in black with a broad expressionless face. German or Scandinavian, he thought. Probably a German lady’s-maid.

他的目光移到了车厢的另一边，尽头靠墙处坐着一名一身黑衣、宽脸上毫无表情的中年妇人。他猜想：不是德国人就是北欧人士，说不定就是那名德国籍的随身女仆。

After her came a couple leaning forward and talking animatedly together. The man wore English clothes of loose tweed—but he was not English. Though only the back of his head was visible to Poirot, the shape of it and the set of the shoulders betrayed him. A big man, well made. He turned his head suddenly and Poirot saw his profile. A very handsome man of thirty odd with a big fair moustache.

掠过了这名妇人，白罗看到一对身躯前倾娓娓交谈的情侣。男人穿着粗人字呢的英国绅士西装，却显然不是个英国人。白罗虽然只能看到他的背影，但是他的头型与宽大的肩膀一看就知道不是英国人。他是个高大、有素养的人。他猛一转头，白罗看到了他的侧影，是个相当俊美、卅岁上下的青年人，蓄了一大撮整齐的八字胡。

The woman opposite him was a mere girl—twenty at a guess. A tight-fitting little black coat and skirt, white satin blouse, small chic black toque perched at the fashionable outrageous angle. She had a beautiful foreign-looking face, dead white skin, large brown eyes, jet-black hair. She was smoking a cigarette in a long holder. Her manicured hands had deep red nails. She wore one large emerald set in platinum. There was coquetry in her glance and voice.

与他对坐的，是个年轻得仍嫌稚嫩的女郎，顶多廿岁模样，紧身黑色外衣和裙子，雪白的绸上衣，一顶小巧的黑帽子时髦地歪戴在头上。一张美丽、异国情调的脸庞，苍白的肤色，棕色的大眼睛，漆黑的秀发。夹着长烟嘴的指尖，涂着深红色的蔻丹，戴一枚巨大的翡翠镶白金的戒指。

‘Elle est jolie—et chic,’ murmured Poirot. ‘Husband and wife—eh?’

“很美，很俏，”白罗悄声赞道：“是对夫妇吧？”

M. Bouc nodded.

波克先生点头应道：“我想是匈牙利大使馆的人。”他说：“可以称得上郎才女貌。”

‘Hungarian Embassy, I believe,’ he said. ‘A handsome couple.’

There were only two more lunchers—Poirot’s fellow traveller MacQueen and his employer Mr Ratchett. The latter sat facing Poirot, and for the second time Poirot studied that unprepossessing face, noting the false benevolence of the brow and the small, cruel eyes.

如此，就只剩下两名进餐的旅客了——与白罗同一卧铺车房间的麦昆以及他的老板罗嘉德先生。白罗再一次端详了这张无法令人起好感的脸孔，那对假仁假义的眉毛与细长、阴险的眼睛。

Doubtless M. Bouc saw a change in his friend’s expression.

波克先生一眼就看出来他老朋友的面色起了变化。

‘It is at your wild animal you look?’ he asked.

“你又在看你那只野兽了吧？他问。”

Poirot nodded.

白罗点了点头。

As his coffee was brought to him, M. Bouc rose to his feet. Having started before Poirot, he had finished some time ago.

白罗的咖啡端上桌的时候，波克先生站了起来。他比白罗来得早，咖啡早用完了。

‘I return to my compartment,’ he said. ‘Come along presently and converse with me.’

“我要回房了，”他说：“等会儿过来聊聊嘛。”

‘With pleasure.’

“好极了。”

Poirot sipped his coffee and ordered a liqueur. The attendant was passing from table to table with his box of money, accepting payment for bills. The elderly American lady’s voice rose shrill and plaintive.

白罗轻啜咖啡，并点了一杯饭后甜酒。一名服务生手中捧着一个盒子逐桌在收餐费。那名美国老妇人又尖起喉咙开起了话匣子。

‘My daughter said, “Take a book of food tickets and you’ll have no trouble—no trouble at all.” Now, that isn’t so. Seems they have to have a ten per cent. tip, and then there’s that bottle of mineral water—and a queer sort of water too. They hadn’t got any Evian or Vichy, which seems queer to me.’

“我女儿说：”买一本餐券，就不会有问题的——什么问题都不会有的。‘好了，你看，全不是那么回事。又是什么一成小费了，一瓶矿泉水也算钱——何况还是怪怪的味道。他们连伊凡牌或是维奇牌的都没有，真怪了。”

‘It is—they must—how you say—serve the water of the country,’ explained the sheep-faced lady.

“是……因为他们……该怎么说，只能供应当地国家的饮水。“那一副羊脸的妇人向她解释说。

‘Well, it seems queer to me.’ She looked distastefully at the heap of small change on the table in front of her. ‘Look at all this peculiar stuff he’s given me. Dinars or something. Just a lot of rubbish, it looks. My daughter said—’

“反正，我总觉得是怪事。”她望着眼前找给她的零钱，厌憎地说：“瞧瞧他找给我的这堆恶形恶状的东西，是南斯拉夫钱吧？真难看！一大堆垃圾。我女儿就说过——”

Mary Debenham pushed back her chair and left with a slight bow to the other two. Colonel Arbuthnot got up and followed her. Gathering up her despised money, the American lady followed suit, followed by the lady like a sheep. The Hungarians had already departed. The restaurant-car was empty save for Poirot and Ratchett and MacQueen.

玛丽·戴本瀚起身将座椅往后推了推，向两个同桌女人微微点了点头。阿伯斯诺上校也起身跟了出去。那美国妇人将令她生厌的零钱收了起来也走了出去，后面跟的是那个绵羊般的女人。那对年轻的匈牙利夫妇早已离去。除了白罗、麦昆与罗嘉德之外，餐车已是空无一人。

Ratchett spoke to his companion, who got up and left the car. Then he rose himself, but instead of following MacQueen he dropped unexpectedly into the seat opposite Poirot.

罗嘉德与他的同伴说了几句话，那人就起身走出了餐车。这时，罗嘉德才站起身来，他并没有随在麦昆身后，却出其不意地坐上了白罗对面的椅子。

‘Can you oblige me with a light?’ he said. His voice was soft—faintly nasal. ‘My name is Ratchett.’

“可以借个火吗？”声音轻软，略带鼻音：“我是罗嘉德。”

Poirot bowed slightly. He slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a matchbox which he handed to the other man, who took it but did not strike a light.

白罗欠身答礼。他将手伸入口袋中取出了一包火柴，交给了罗嘉德，对方却并未点烟。

‘I think,’ he went on, ‘that I have the pleasure of speaking to M. Hercule Poirot. Is that so?’

“我想，”他说：“阁下就是赫邱里·白罗先生吧？久仰大名。”

Poirot bowed again.

白罗又欠了欠身。

‘You have been correctly informed, Monsieur.’

“你打听的不错，先生。”

The detective was conscious of those strange shrewd eyes summing him up before the other spoke again.

这位侦探可以感觉得到：这人再度开口之前，正用那对怪异且精锐的眼睛在打量着他。

‘In my country,’ he said, ‘we come to the point quickly. Mr Poirot, I want you to take on a job for me.’

“在我们美国，”那人说：“一向说话开门见山。白罗先生，我要请你替我办一点事。”

Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows went up a trifle.

赫邱里·白罗的眉梢轻轻向上扬了一扬，说：

‘My clientèle, Monsieur, is limited nowadays. I undertake very few cases.’

“先生，我最近已经不轻易接受主顾的委托了，也很少接办私人案件啰。”

‘Why, naturally, I understand that. But this, Mr Poirot, means big money.’ He repeated again in his soft, persuasive voice, ‘Big money.’

“当然啰，我了解。不过，白罗先生，这次是大钱。”他又用那轻软、颇具说服性的口气重复了一句：“一笔大钱。”

Hercule Poirot was silent a minute or two, then he said:

白罗沉默了半响，然后问：

‘What is it you wish me to do for you, M.—er—Ratchett?’

“什么事要我效劳呢，罗——呃，罗嘉德先生？”

‘Mr Poirot, I am a rich man—a very rich man. Men in that position have enemies. I have an enemy.’

“白罗先生，我是个富有的人——非常之富有。像我这么有钱的人，难免要树敌的。我有一个敌人。”

‘Only one enemy?’

“只有一个敌人？”

‘Just what do you mean by that question?’ asked Ratchett sharply.

“你这话是什么意思？”罗嘉德面有愠色地问道。

‘Monsieur, in my experience when a man is in a position to have, as you say, enemies, then it does not usually resolve itself into one enemy only.’

“先生，我的经验告诉我，如果一个人到了有仇敌的身份，往往仇人是不止一个的。”

Ratchett seemed relieved by Poirot’s answer. He said quickly:

罗嘉德松了一口气，紧接着说：

‘Why, yes, I appreciate that point. Enemy or enemies—it doesn’t matter. What does matter is my safety.’

“当然，我懂你这话的意思。不管仇人是一个还是一百个了——我现在担心的是我的安全。”

‘Safety?’

“安全？”

‘My life has been threatened, Mr Poirot. Now, I’m a man who can take pretty good care of himself.’ From the pocket of his coat his hand brought a small automatic into sight for a moment. He continued grimly. ‘I don’t think I’m the kind of man to be caught napping. But as I look at it I might as well make assurance doubly sure. I fancy you’re the man for my money, Mr Poirot. And remember—big money.’

“嗯，白罗先生，有人威协我的生命。这倒不是说我老得没有自卫之力了。”说着，他自衣袋中掏出一把小型自动手枪，亮了一亮，阴险地继续说：“我想，我还不至于在睡梦中遭人暗算。不过，我觉得不妨多提防着点儿为妙。我看，我把这笔费用出在你的身上，该是值得的。我再提醒你一句，白罗先生，这可是一笔大钱。”

Poirot looked at him thoughtfully for some minutes. His face was completely expressionless. The other could have had no clue as to what thoughts were passing in that mind.

白罗深沉地注视他良久，脸上则不带半丝表情。对方一点也猜不透他心里到底在盘算什么。

‘I regret, Monsieur,’ he said at length. ‘I cannot oblige you.’

“很抱歉，先生，”他终于开了口：“我歉难遵命。”

The other looked at him shrewdly.

那人狡猾地看着他说：

‘Name your figure, then,’ he said.

“那么，你开个价码吧。”

Poirot shook his head.

白罗摇了摇头。

‘You do not understand, Monsieur. I have been very fortunate in my profession. I have made enough money to satisfy both my needs and my caprices. I take now only such cases as—interest me.’

“先生，你大概不明白，我在事业上一帆风顺。如今我的财富可以满足我的需要，也可以达成我的梦想。我现在只接手一种案子——我感兴趣的。”

‘You’ve got a pretty good nerve,’ said Ratchett. ‘Will twenty thousand dollars tempt you?’

“口气还真不小！”罗嘉德说：“两万美金可对你的胃口？”

‘It will not.’

“不能。”

‘If you’re holding out for more, you won’t get it. I know what a thing’s worth to me.’

“别想跟我讨价还价，我可是识货的人。”

‘I also—M. Ratchett.’

“彼此，彼此，罗嘉德先生。”

‘What’s wrong with my proposition?’

“怎么？我请你办的事有什么不对吗？”

Poirot rose.‘If you will forgive me for being personal—I do not like your face, M. Ratchett,’ he said.

白罗立起身来，说道：“容我说句不客气的话，罗嘉德先生，我看你不顺眼。”

And with that he left the restaurant car.

说完，他离开了餐车。