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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
Said Poirot gravely. "I have been a bachelor for many long years and it is unlikely that I shall change that status now."
"Oh, never say die," said Michael. "I saw in the paper that someone of ninety-five married a girl of twenty-two the other day."
"You encourage me," said Hercule Poirot.
Colonel Lacey uttered a sudden exclamation1. His face became purple and his hand went to his mouth.
"Confound it, Emmeline," he roared, "why on earth do you let the cook put glass in the pudding?"
"Glass!" cried Mrs Lacey, astonished.
Colonel Lacey withdrew the offending substance from his mouth.
"God bless my soul," he ejaculated, "It's a red stone out of one of the cracker6 brooches." He held it aloft.
"You permit?"
Very deftly7 M. Poirot stretched across his neighbour, took it from Colonel Lacey's fingers and examined it attentively8. As the squire9 had said, it was an enormous red stone the colour of a ruby10. The light gleamed from its facets11 as he turned it about. Somewhere around the table a chair was pushed sharply back and then drawn12 in again.
"Phew!" cried Michael. "How wizard it would be if it was real."
"Perhaps it is real," said Bridget hopefully.
"Oh, don't be an ass2, Bridget. Why a ruby of that size would be worth thousands and thousands of pounds. Wouldn't it, M. Poirot?"
"It would indeed," said Poirot.
"But what I can't understand," said Mrs Lacey, "is how it got into the pudding."
"Oooh," said Colin, diverted by his last mouthful, "I've got the pig. It isn't fair."
Bridget chanted immediately, "Colin's got the pig! Colin's got the pig! Colin is the greedy guzzling13 pig!"
"I've got the ring," said Diana in a clear, high voice.
"Good for you, Diana. You'll be married first, of us all."
"Bridget's going to be an old maid," chanted the two boys. "Yah, Bridget's going to be an old maid."
"Who's got the money?" demanded David. "There's a real ten shilling piece, gold, in this pudding. I know. Mrs Ross told me so."
"I think I'm the lucky one," said Desmond Lee-Wortley.
Colonel Lacey's two next door neighbours heard him mutter, "Yes, you would be."
"I've got a ring, too," said David. He looked across at Diana. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it?"
The laughter went on. Nobody noticed that M. Poirot carelessly, as though thinking of something else, had dropped the red stone into his pocket.
Mince-pies and Christmas dessert followed the pudding. The older members of the party then retired15 for a welcome siesta16 before the tea-time ceremony of the lighting17 of the Christmas tree. Hercule Poirot, however, did not take a siesta. Instead, he made his way to the enormous old-fashioned kitchen.
"It is permitted," he asked, looking round and beaming, "that I congratulate the cook on this marvellous meal that I have just eaten?"
There was a moment's pause and then Mrs Ross came forward in a
stately manner to meet him. She was a large woman, nobly built with all the dignity of a stage duchess. Two lean grey-haired women were beyond in the scullery washing up and a tow-haired girl was moving to and fro between the scullery and the kitchen. But these were obviously mere18 myrmidons. Mrs Ross was the queen of the kitchen quarters.
"I am glad to hear you enjoyed it, sir," she said graciously.
"Enjoyed it!" cried Hercule Poirot. With an extravagant19 foreign gesture he raised his hand to his lips, kissed it, and wafted20 the kiss to the ceiling. "But you are a genius, Mrs Ross! A genius! Never have I tasted such a wonderful meal. The oyster21 soup..." he made an expressive22 noise with his lips. "-and the stuffing. The chestnut23 stuffing in the turkey, that was quite unique in my experience."
"Well, it's funny that you should say that, sir," said Mrs Ross graciously. "It's a very special recipe, that stuffing. It was given me by an Austrian chef that I worked with many years ago. But all the rest," she added, "is just good, plain English cooking."
"And is there anything better?" demanded Hercule Poirot.
"Well, it's nice of you to say so, sir. Of course, you being a foreign gentleman might have preferred the continental24 style. Not but what I can't manage continental dishes too."
"I am sure, Mrs Ross, you could manage anything! But you must know that English cooking - good English cooking, not the cooking one gets in the second-class hotels or the restaurants - is much appreciated by gourmets25 on the continent, and I believe I am correct in saying that a special expedition was made to London in the early eighteen hundreds, and a report sent back to France of the wonders of the English puddings. 'We have nothing like that in France,' they wrote. 'It is worth making a journey to London just to taste the varieties and excellencies of the English puddings.' And above all puddings," continued Poirot, well launched now on a kind of rhapsody, "is the Christmas plum pudding, such as we have eaten today. That was a homemade pudding, was it not? Not a bought one?"
"Yes, indeed, sir. Of my own making and my own recipe such as I've made for many, many years. When I came here Mrs Lacey said that
she'd ordered a pudding from a London store to save me the trouble. But no, Madam, I said, that may be kind of you but no bought pudding from a store can equal a homemade Christmas one. Mind you," said Mrs Ross, warming to her subject like the artist she was, "it was made too soon before the day. A good Christmas pudding should be made some weeks before and allowed to wait. The longer they're kept, within reason, the better they are. I mind now that when I was a child and we went to church every Sunday, we'd start listening for the collect that begins 'Stir up O Lord we beseech26 thee' because that collect was the signal, as it were, that the puddings should be made that week. And so they always were.
We had the collect on the Sunday, and that week sure enough my mother would make the Christmas puddings. And so it should have
been here this year. As it was, that pudding was only made three days ago, the day before you arrived, sir. However, I kept to the old custom. Everyone in the house had to come out into the kitchen and have a stir and make a wish. That's an old custom, sir, and I've always held to it."
"Most interesting," said Hercule Poirot. "Most interesting. And so everyone came out into the kitchen?"
"Yes, sir. The young gentlemen, Miss Bridget and the London gentleman who's staying here, and his sister and Mr David and Miss Diana - Mrs Middleton, I should say... All had a stir, they did."
"How many puddings did you make? Is this the only one?"
"No, sir, I made four. Two large ones and two smaller ones. The other large one I planned to serve on New Year's Day and the smaller ones were for Colonel and Mrs Lacey when they're alone like and not so many in the family."
"I see, I see," said Poirot.
"As a matter of fact, sir," said Mrs Lacey, "it was the wrong pudding you had for lunch today."
"The wrong pudding?" Poirot frowned. "How is that?"
"Well, sir, we have a big Christmas mould. A china mould with a pattern of holly27 and mistletoe on top and we always have the Christmas Day pudding boiled in that. But there was a most unfortunate accident. This morning, when Annie was getting it down from the shelf in the larder28, she slipped and dropped it and it broke. Well, sir, naturally I couldn't serve that, could I? There might have been splinters in it. So we had to use the other one - the New Year's Day one, which was in a plain bowl. It makes a nice round but it's not so decorative29 as the Christmas mould. Really, where we'll get another mould like that I don't know. They don't make things in that size nowadays. All tiddly bits of things. Why, you can't even buy a breakfast dish that'll take a proper eight to ten eggs and bacon. Ah, things aren't what they were."
"No, indeed," said Poirot. "But today that is not so. This Christmas Day has been like the Christmas Days of old, is that not true?"
Mrs Ross sighed. "Well, I'm glad you say so, sir, but of course I haven't the help now that I used to have. Not skilled help, that is. The girls nowadays..." she lowered her voice slightly," they mean very well and they're very willing but they've not been trained, sir, if you understand what I mean."
"Times change, yes," said Hercule Poirot. "I too find it sad sometimes."
"This house, sir," said Mrs Ross, "it's too large, you know, for the mistress and the colonel. The mistress, she knows that. Living in a corner of it as they do, it's not the same thing at all. It only comes alive, as you might say, at Christmas time when all the family come."
"It is the first time, I think, that Mr Lee-Wortley and his sister have been here?"
"Yes, sir." A note of slight reserve crept into Mrs Ross's voice. "A very nice gentleman he is but, well - it seems a funny friend for Miss Sarah to have, according to our ideas. But there - London ways are different! It's sad that his sister's so poorly. Had an operation, she had. She seemed all right the first day she was here, but that very day, after we'd been stirring the puddings, she was took bad again and she's been in bed ever since. Got up too soon after her operation, I expect. Ah, doctors nowadays, they have you out of hospital before you can hardly stand on your feet. Why, my very own nephew's wife..." And Mrs Ross went into a long and spirited tale of hospital treatment as accorded to her relations, comparing it unfavourably with the consideration that had been lavished30 upon them in older times.
Poirot duly commiserated31 with her. "It remains," he said, "to thank you for this exquisite32 and sumptuous33 meal. You permit a little acknowledgment of my appreciation34?"
A crisp five pound note passed from his hand into that of Mrs Ross who said perfunctorily:
"You really shouldn't do that, sir."
"I insist. I insist."
"Well, it's very kind of you indeed, sir." Mrs Ross accepted the tribute as no more than her due. "And I wish you, sir, a very happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year."
V
The end of Christmas Day was like the end of most Christmas Days. The tree was lighted, a splendid Christmas cake came in for tea, was greeted with approval but was partaken of only moderately. There was cold supper.
Both Poirot and his host and hostess went to bed early.
"Good night, M. Poirot," said Mrs Lacey. "I hope you've enjoyed yourself."
"It has been a wonderful day, Madame, wonderful."
"You're looking very thoughtful," said Mrs Lacey.
"It is the English pudding that I consider."
"You found it a little heavy, perhaps?" asked Mrs Lacey delicately.
"No, no, I do not speak gastronomically35. I consider its significance."
"It's traditional, of course," said Mrs Lacey. "Well, good night, M. Poirot, and don't dream too much of Christmas puddings and mince-pies."
"Yes," murmured Poirot to himself as he undressed. "It is a problem certainly, that Christmas plum pudding. There is here something that I do not understand at all." He shook his head in a vexed36 manner. "Well - we shall see."
After making certain preparations, Poirot went to bed, but not to sleep.
It was some two hours later that his patience was rewarded. The door of his bedroom opened very gently. He smiled to himself. It was as he had thought it would be. His mind went back fleetingly37 to the cup of coffee so politely handed him by Desmond Lee-Wortley. A little later, when Desmond's back was turned, he had laid the cup down for a few moments on a table. He had then apparently38 picked it up again and Desmond had had the satisfaction, if satisfaction it was, of seeing him drink the coffee to the last drop. But a little smile lifted Poirot's moustache as he reflected that it was not he but someone else who was sleeping a good sound sleep tonight. "That pleasant young David," said Poirot to himself, "he is worried, unhappy. It will do him no harm to have a night's really sound sleep. And now, let us see what will happen?"
He lay quite still, breathing in an even manner with occasionally a suggestion, but the very faintest suggestion, of a snore.
Someone came up to the bed and bent39 over him. Then, satisfied, that someone turned away and went to the dressing-table. By the light of a tiny torch the visitor was examining Poirot's belongings40 neatly41 arranged on top of the dressing-table. Fingers explored the wallet, gently pulled open the drawers of the dressing-table, then extended the search to the pockets of Poirot's clothes. Finally the visitor approached the bed and with great caution slid his hand under the pillow. Withdrawing his hand, he stood for a moment or two as though uncertain what to do next. He walked round the room looking inside ornaments42, went into the adjoining bathroom from whence he presently returned. Then, with a faint exclamation of disgust, he went out of the room.
"Ah," said Poirot, under his breath. "You have disappointment. Yes, yes, a serious disappointment. Bah! To imagine, even, that Hercule Poirot would hide something where you could find it!" Then, turning over on his other side, he went peacefully to sleep.
He was aroused next morning by an urgent soft tapping on his door.
"Qui est là? Come in, come in."
The door opened. Breathless, red-faced, Colin stood upon the threshold. Behind him stood Michael.
"Monsieur Poirot, Monsieur Poirot."
"But yes?" Poirot sat up in bed. "It is the early tea? But no. It is you, Colin. What has occurred?"
Colin was, for a moment, speechless. He seemed to be under the grip of some strong emotion. In actual fact it was the sight of the nightcap that Hercule Poirot wore that affected43 for the moment his organs of speech. Presently he controlled himself and spoke44.
"I think - M. Poirot, could you help us? Something rather awful has happened."
"Something has happened? But what?"
"It's - it's Bridget. She's out there in the snow. I think - she doesn't move or speak and - oh, you'd better come and look for yourself. I'm terribly afraid - she may be dead."
"What?" Poirot cast aside his bed covers. "Mademoiselle Bridget is dead!"
"I think - I think somebody's killed her. There's - there's blood and - oh do come!"
"But certainly. But certainly. I come on the instant."
With great practicality Poirot inserted his feet into his outdoor shoes and pulled a fur-lined overcoat over his pyjamas45.
"I come," he said. "I come on the moment. You have aroused the house?"
"No. No, so far I haven't told anyone but you. I thought it would be better. Grandfather and Gran aren't up yet. They're laying breakfast downstairs, but I didn't say anything to Peverell. She - Bridget - she's round the other side of the house, near the terrace and the library window."
"I see. Lead the way. I will follow."
Turning away to hide his delighted grin, Colin led the way downstairs. They went out through the side door. It was a clear morning with the sun not yet high over the horizon. It was not snowing now, but it had snowed heavily during the night and everywhere around was an unbroken carpet of thick snow. The world looked very pure and white and beautiful.
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收听单词发音
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1
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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appendicitis
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| n.阑尾炎，盲肠炎 | |
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rinsed
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| v.漂洗( rinse的过去式和过去分词 )；冲洗；用清水漂洗掉（肥皂泡等）；（用清水）冲掉 | |
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cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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facets
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| n.（宝石或首饰的）小平面( facet的名词复数 )；（事物的）面；方面 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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guzzling
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| v.狂吃暴饮，大吃大喝( guzzle的现在分词 ) | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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wafted
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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gourmets
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| 讲究吃喝的人，美食家( gourmet的名词复数 ) | |
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beseech
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| v.祈求，恳求 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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commiserated
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| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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34
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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gastronomically
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| adj.美食法的，美食学的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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fleetingly
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| adv.飞快地，疾驰地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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42
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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44
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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45
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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