死亡约会 Part II Chapter 16（3）

（单词翻译）

Lady Westholme and Miss Pierce were a long wayaway. They saw you apparently¹ having a conversation with your mother-in-law, but what actualevidence is there of what occurred? I will propound² to you instead a little theory. You have brains,madame. If in your quiet unhurried fashion you have decided³ on—shall we say the elimination⁴ ofyour husband’s mother—you will carry it out with intelligence and with due preparation. Youhave access to Dr Gerard’s tent during his absence on the morning excursion. You are fairly surethat you will find a suitable drug. Your nursing training helps you there. You choose digitoxin—the same kind of drug that the old lady is taking—you also take his hypodermic syringe since, toyour annoyance⁵, your own has disappeared. You hope to replace the syringe before the doctornotices its absence.’

‘Before proceeding⁶ to carry out your plan, you make one last attempt to stir your husband intoaction. You tell him of your intention to marry Jefferson Cope. Though your husband is terriblyupset he does not react as you had hoped—so you are forced to put your plan of murder intoaction. You return to the camp exchanging a pleasant natural word with Lady Westholme andMiss Pierce as you pass. You go up to where your mother-in-law is sitting. You have the syringewith the drug in it ready. It is easy to seize her wrist and—proficient as you are with your nurse’straining—force home the plunger. It is done before your mother-in-law realizes what you aredoing. From far down the valley the others only see you talking to her, bending over her. Thendeliberately you go and fetch a chair and sit there apparently engaged in an amicable⁷ conversationfor some minutes. Death must have been almost instantaneous. It is a dead woman to whom yousit talking, but who shall guess that? Then you put away the chair and go down to the marquee,where you find your husband reading a book. And you are careful not to leave that marquee! MrsBoynton’s death, you are sure, will be put down to heart trouble. (It will, indeed, be due to hearttrouble.) In only one thing have your plans gone astray. You cannot return the syringe to DrGerard’s tent because the doctor is in there shivering with malaria—and although you do not knowit, he has already missed the syringe. That, madame, was the flaw in an otherwise perfect crime.’

There was silence—a moment’s dead silence—then Lennox Boynton sprang to his feet.

‘No,’ he shouted. ‘That’s a damned lie. Nadine did nothing. She couldn’t have done anything.

My mother—my mother was already dead.’

‘Ah?’ Poirot’s eyes came gently round to him. ‘So, after all, it was you who killed her, MrBoynton.’

Again a moment’s pause—then Lennox dropped back into his chair and raised trembling handsto his face.

‘Yes—that’s right—I killed her.’

‘You took the digitoxin from Dr Gerard’s tent?’

‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘As—as—you said—in the morning.’

‘And the syringe?’

‘The syringe? Yes.’

‘Why did you kill her?’

‘Can you ask?’

‘I am asking, Mr Boynton!’

‘But you know—my wife was leaving me—with Cope—’

‘Yes, but you only learnt that in the afternoon.’

Lennox stared at him. ‘Of course. When we were out—’

‘But you took the poison and the syringe in the morning—before you knew?’

‘Why the hell do you badger⁸ me with questions?’ He paused and passed a shaking hand acrosshis forehead. ‘What does it matter, anyway?’

‘It matters a great deal. I advise you, Mr Lennox Boynton, to tell me the truth.’

‘The truth?’ Lennox stared at him.

‘That is what I said—the truth.’

‘By God, I will,’ said Lennox suddenly. ‘But I don’t know whether you will believe me.’ Hedrew a deep breath. ‘That afternoon, when I left Nadine, I was absolutely all to pieces. I’d neverdreamed she’d go from me to someone else. I was—I was nearly mad! I felt as though I was drunkor recovering from a bad illness.’

Poirot nodded. He said: ‘I noted⁹ Lady Westholme’s description of your gait when you passedher. That is why I knew your wife was not speaking the truth when she said she told you after youwere both back at the camp.