“天气糟透了。” 文宁先生说。他那有教养的声音带着恰到好处的英国腔。“在热带生活了二十年，人会有这种感觉。” 他轻声笑了笑。“考虑到我是在这儿出生的，芝加哥现在对我来说显得非常陌生。”

“Frightful weather,” Mr. Venning said. His well-bred voice had just the right tinge of British. “After living in the tropics for twenty years, one feels it.” He laughed, not too loudly. “Chicago seemed amazingly strange to me, considering I was born here.”

小主，

迈克尔?文宁，马龙想。这个名字似乎有点熟悉。他在记忆中搜索。哦，对了，老迈克尔?文宁在世纪之交靠房地产发了大财，然后娶了北岸一个更富有的家庭的独生女。这是他们的独生子。

Michael Venning, Malone thought. The name seemed familiar. He searched his memory. Oh yes, old Michael Venning had made a great fortune in real estate at the turn of the century, and then married the only daughter of one of the wealthier North Shore families. This was their one child.

他带着新的兴趣看着迈克尔?文宁。他是个高个子男人，骨架大，肩膀很宽，显然刚开始发福。他的黑发在太阳穴处开始有点变灰，而且晒得很黑。在马龙看来，他是那种在美国人在东方生活了二十年后，回到家乡比任何英国人都更像英国人的人，显然只专注于养成那些更令人讨厌的习惯。

He looked at Michael Venning with a new interest. He was a tall man, big-boned, heavy around the shoulders, and evidently just beginning to put on weight. His dark hair was starting to gray a little above the temples, and he was deeply tanned. To Malone he seemed to be one of the Americans who, after spending twenty years in the Orient, e home far more British than any of the British themselves, having apparently concentrated on adopting only the more objectionable habits.

文宁夫人喝了一口饮料说：“可怜的迈克尔确实非常怕冷。”

Mrs. Venning took a drink and said, “Poor Michael does feel the cold so badly.”

马龙转过头看着她。她也很高，有点瘦长。马龙觉得大多数人都会被她吸引，尤其是那些喜欢马的人。她有着那种身材健美的结实感，穿什么衣服或者不穿衣服都好看，而且行动起来带着一些运动型女性所具有的那种无意识且自然的优雅。不过，她的脸布满深深的皱纹，显得憔悴；她的黑眼睛看起来不开心，几乎带着恐惧。有一道很宽的纯白色条纹从她额头的一侧开始，向后穿过她深棕色的头发。

Malone turned to look at her. She too was tall, a trifle rangy. Malone thought most people would be attracted to her, especially those who liked horses. She had that kind of well-built muscular solidity that looked well in any kind of clothes or without them, and moved with the unconscious and unstudied grace that some athletic women develop. Her face, though, was deeply lined, haggard; her dark eyes seemed unhappy and almost frightened. There was one wide streak of pure white that began at one side of her forehead and waved back through her darkbrown hair.

小主，

马龙礼貌地问她是否也来自芝加哥。

Malone asked her politely if she too came from Chicago.

“是的，确实。我出生在这里，在这里长大。我们一直住在东方只是因为迈克尔喜欢那里。” 她说话的方式奇怪地急促而紧张。马龙突然有种感觉，不管迈克尔感觉如何，她并不怎么喜欢东方。

“Yes, indeed. I was born here, and I grew up here. We’ve only lived in the Orient all this time because Michael liked it.” She spoke in an oddly jerky, nervous manner. Malone had a sudden notion that however Michael might have felt, she hadn’t liked the Orient much.

“我们时不时会去欧洲。” 文宁说，好像他并不指望有人会在意。

“We went over to Europe now and then,” Venning said, as though he didn’t expect anyone to care.

马龙的注意力分散了。他想起了彭德利?泰德韦尔，不知道他冲洗照片进行得怎么样了。另一个女人走进房间，在伊迪莎?文宁旁边坐下。莫娜?麦克莱恩介绍她是卢埃拉?怀特。

Malone’s attention wandered. He thought of Pendley Tidewell and wondered how he was getting on with his developing. Another woman entered the room and sat down close to Editha Venning. Mona McClane introduced her as Louella White.

马龙记起来了，这是伊迪莎?文宁的同伴。她看起来就像一座军人和水手纪念碑一样不亲切。卢埃拉?怀特是个大块头的女人，胸部丰满，脚很平，脚踝很粗，胳膊很结实，穿着一件不好看且非常朴素的棕色缎面连衣裙。她那毫无表情的大脸像商业区小巷一侧的建筑物一样坚硬、不妥协且毫无装饰，只是她的眉毛被修成了细细的弯曲线条。她那卷曲的头发是红棕色的，马龙觉得可能是染的。她打开一个编织袋，拿出一件不成形的东西和一大团深灰色的毛线，然后以机器般的节奏开始编织起来。

This was Editha Venning’s panion, Malone remembered. She looked about as panionable as a soldiers’ and sailors’ monument. Louella White was a large woman, wide-bosomed, with flat, substantial feet, thick ankles, and muscular arms, dressed in an unbeing and perfectly plain brown satin dress. Her big, expressionless face was as hard, unpromising, and undecorated as the alley side of a Loop building, save that her eyebrows were plucked to fine, curved lines. Her crimped hair was a reddish brown, probably dyed, Malone thought. She opened a knitting bag, took out some shapeless article and a mass of heavy dark-gray yarn, and began to knit, with machine-like rhythm.

“红十字会的活儿？” 他礼貌地问道。

“Red Cross?” he asked politely.

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她的眼睛抬起来看了他的脸一瞬间，然后又看向编织物，说：“不是。”

She lifted her eyes to his face for a fraction of a second, looked back at the knitting again, and said, “No.”

他有一种模糊而不舒服的感觉，觉得自己应该和她聊聊天，房间里的其他人似乎都在交谈。

He had a vague and unfortable notion that he ought to make conversation with her, everyone else in the room seemed to be occupied in talk.

“你在织一件毛衣吗？”

“Are you making a sweater?”

“是的。” 这次她没有抬头。

“Yes.” This time she didn’t look up.

他有点泄气，但还是忍不住要挑战一下。他又试了一次。

He was a little discouraged, but couldn’t resist the challenge. He tried again.

“我想你很高兴回到芝加哥。”

“I suppose you’re glad to be back in Chicago.”

“是的。”

“Yes.”

“还是说你喜欢住在东方？”

“Or did you enjoy living in the Orient?”

“不喜欢。”

“No.”

海伦回来的时候，马龙刚刚承认失败。她换上了一件贴身的柔软羊毛连衣裙，颜色和成熟的小麦一模一样，还重新梳理了她那柔顺的淡金色头发。马龙热切地希望杰克现在能看她一眼，就一眼。

Malone had just admitted defeat when Helene returned. She had changed into a clinging, soft wool dress the exact color of ripe wheat, and rearranged her sleek, pale-gold hair. Malone wished fervently that Jake could get one look at her right now, just one.

和海伦一起走进房间的女孩被介绍为罗特斯?艾伦。马龙觉得她叫简会更好。她那光滑、梳理整齐的头发只是普通的发色，从脸上往后梳成一个厚重的发髻盘在脑后。她身上有种让人愉快但难以言表的平凡气质。她的五官通常被认为长相不错，皮肤也很健康；她中等身高，身材苗条，体型匀称。任何一个男人如果再看她一眼，很可能会接着看很多眼，而且是带着赞赏的目光。而关键就在于能否吸引人回过头来看第二看。

The girl who came into the room with Helene was introduced as Lotus Allen. She would have been better named Jane, Malone thought. Her smooth, well-brushed hair was just plain hair color and was drawn back from her face into a heavy coil on the back of her neck. There was something pleasantly and indescribably ordinary about her. She had what were usually described as good features and a healthy skin; she was of average height, with a trim, well-organized figure. Any man who did take a second look at her would probably take a great many more, and approving ones. It was the second look that would be the hurdle.

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“我觉得罗斯不会来了。” 她对莫娜?麦克莱恩说。

“I don’t think Ross will show up,” she said to Mona McClane.

莫娜?麦克莱恩微微扬起一条眉毛。“又不来？”

Mona McClane raised one eyebrow slightly. “Again?”

女孩点点头。“从新年到现在，他一直醉醺醺的。这都快破纪录了。” 她拿起一个高脚杯，坐下来，对每个人都不偏不倚地微笑着。

The girl nodded. “He’s been plastered now since New Year’s. It’s almost a record.” She picked up a tall glass, sat down, and smiled impartially at everybody.

莫娜?麦克莱恩说：“但是图伊兹先生去哪儿了呢？” 没人回答。然后她又说：“我忘了你们都还没见过他。” 她按铃叫来了女仆。“我真希望你们能见见他。” 马龙觉得莫娜这话像是特意说给他听的。他不知道为什么。

Mona McClane said, “But where is Mr. Tuesday?” Nobody answered. Then she added, “I forgot none of you have met him.” She rang for the maid. “I’m so anxious for you to meet him.” Malone had the feeling that Mona was talking for his benefit. He wondered why.

她让女仆去请图伊兹先生下楼来，然后说：“他今天早上才到城里。他非常迷人，也很有趣。”

She sent the maid to ask Mr. Tuesday to step downstairs, and said, “He only arrived in town this morning. He’s very charming and interesting.”

马龙突然意识到卢埃拉?怀特正设法观察房间里的每一个人，而表面上又好像没有把她那双小而有神的眼睛从编织物上移开。

Malone suddenly became conscious of the fact that Louella White was managing to watch everyone in the room, without seeming to take her small, beady eyes off her knitting.

“图伊兹先生从哪儿来的？” 罗特斯?艾伦问。

“Where’s Mr. Tuesday from?” Lotus Allen asked.

莫娜说：“他也从东方来。我肯定他和文宁夫妇会有很多共同话题。”

Mona said, “He’s also from the Orient. I’m sure he and the Vennings will have so much in mon.”

女仆片刻后又出现了。她那刻意保持镇定的脸非常苍白。

The maid reappeared a moment later. Her carefully restrained face was very pale.

“对不起，夫人，但是图伊兹先生不会下来了。”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Tuesday isn’t ing down.”

罗特斯?艾伦放下杯子说：“天哪。别告诉我他也喝醉了。”

Lotus Allen put down her glass and said, “Good God. Don’t tell me he’s plastered, too.”

“不是的，艾伦小姐。” 女仆转向莫娜?麦克莱恩。“对不起，夫人。但是图伊兹先生死了。”

“No, Miss Allen.” The maid turned back to Mona McClane. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But Mr. Tuesday’s dead.”