Nawawalang Kwintas: Alibi at Maliit na Clue sa Greystone

Transcript sa Ingles

New dialogues and stories every day available in 21 subtitle languages.

My name is Stephen Vane and I am a private detective.

For 20 years I have solved crimes that the police could not solve.

People often ask me how I do it, and my answer is always the same.

I listen.

Criminals talk a lot, and every word is a small door.

Tonight, I want to tell you about one case, because it was small, quiet, and very strange.

I solved it in one night, with my eyes, my questions, and a glass of brandy.

It happened in October, in a large old house called Greystone.

The owner was Mrs. Eleanor Hart, a widow of seventy years.

She had invited a few people for dinner, her nephew Daniel, her old friend Mrs. Peake, and her lawyer Mr. Rowe.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Bell, had worked in that house for thirty years.

During the dinner, somebody opened the safe in Mrs. Hart's study and took a diamond necklace.

It had belonged to her mother, and it was worth more than the house itself.

She called me at eleven o'clock that night, and her voice was shaking on the telephone.

When I arrived, the police had already come and gone.

They found no broken window and no broken door, and they found no fingerprints at all.

In their opinion, the thief was not a stranger.

Everyone here is a friend, Mrs. Hart told me.

I do not know whom to trust.

I told her to trust nobody for one night and to let me work alone.

The rain outside was heavy, so the garden was deep in mud.

I looked at every window and every door on the ground floor.

Not one footprint came into the house, and not one went out.

This told me something important.

The necklace was still inside I also looked at the safe There was no mark on it no scratch no damage The thief had opened it with the key and the key lived in a blue vase on the desk Only three people knew about that vase Mrs. Hart, the housekeeper, and, as I learned later, the nephew.

I walked through the study very slowly.

A chair stood in the wrong place, close to the window, and a glass of brandy sat on the desk.

Mrs. Hart did not drink brandy, and the housekeeper did not drink at all.

I asked Mrs. Bell about the glass, and she said Daniel always drank brandy after dinner.

But he went to his room early tonight, she added quickly.

He said he was tired.

I also noticed one more thing, and this was the smallest clue of all.

The necklace box was back inside the safe, closed and tidy on the shelf.

A thief who runs away does not close the box.

A thief who plans to come back does.

At one o'clock in the morning, I went into the library where Daniel Hart was sitting alone.

He was 30 years old, well-dressed, with soft hands and quick eyes.

He smiled when he saw me, but his smile arrived a little too late.

You must be the famous detective, he said.

Please sit down.

Would you like a drink?

No, thank you.

I would like to ask you two or three questions, and then you can go to bed.

Of course, ask anything.

Where were you during dinner?

In my room, he said.

I was reading.

I had a headache, so I stayed upstairs.

That is strange, I said.

Mrs. Bell told me you were at the table until the coffee.

He laughed.

Mrs. Bell as old, she mixes up the evenings.

Perhaps, I said, what were you reading?

A mystery story.

I like mystery stories.

I like them too.

What was the title?

He looked at the ceiling for a moment.

I don't remember.

Something with a murder in it.

I put it down when my head started hurting.

You forgot the title of a book you were reading only a few hours ago, I said.

That is interesting.

People remember the titles of books.

I was tired, he said.

His voice was still calm, but his fingers began to play with a ring on his hand.

There was a glass of brandy in the study tonight, and a chair was moved close to the window.

Somebody sat there for a while and watched the rain The study I never went into the study Why would I Because the safe is in the study I said and because you are the only person in this house who drinks brandy He stood up and walked to the window.

This is ridiculous.

My aunt trusts me.

She has trusted me since I was a child.

I know, I said.

She showed you the key once, didn't she?

She told me herself an hour ago.

She said, I showed Daniel where I keep the key because he is family.

Only three people knew about that blue vase.

For a long moment he said nothing.

The rain hit the window, and the clock on the wall counted the seconds.

Then he spoke in a different voice, lower and harder.

Even if I knew about the key, that proves nothing.

Anyone could have seen the vase.

The housekeeper could have taken it, or the lawyer.

He knows where everything is in this house.

The lawyer did not drink brandy, I said.

The housekeeper did not open the safe because she cannot.

She does not know the numbers, and the safe needs a key and a code.

Your aunt told me who knows both.

That still means nothing.

I told you you were in your room, I said, but the chair by the window is still warm, and there is mud on the window handle.

Somebody opened that window tonight and looked outside, probably to check the rain.

A man in his room does not open a window in a storm.

He turned around.

This is ridiculous.

You are building a story out of nothing.

I am building a story out of small things, I said.

That is my job.

And there is one more small thing.

The necklace box was closed and put back in the safe.

A thief closes the box only when he plans to return for it later.

He wants everything to look normal for a few days.

So what?

Maybe the thief is coming back.

That is not me.

Then I will search the house in the morning.

Every room, every bag, every box.

I will start with the greenhouse because it is warm and dry in there.

People hide things in warm, dry places.

His face changed.

It was very small, just a movement of the mouth, but I saw it.

He looked at the door, then at the window, then at his own hands The greenhouse he repeated Yes Is there something in the greenhouse Daniel He sat down again and put his head in his hands for a minute I did not speak Sometimes the best question is silence and I have learned to use it.

Then he looked up, and his eyes were wet.

I owe money, he said, two thousand pounds.

I lost it at cards, and the men I owe are not gentle people.

They gave me until Friday.

I did not plan to hurt my aunt.

I only wanted to borrow the necklace for a week.

I was going to sell it, pay the men, and buy it back before anyone noticed.

So you used the key and the code?

I watched her open the safe last Christmas.

She did not hide it from me.

She trusted me.

His voice broke a little.

I took the necklace at nine o'clock while everyone was at the table.

Then I went to the study.

drank a brandy, and sat by the window until my hands stopped shaking.

I closed the box and put it back because I wanted a few quiet days.

Where is the necklace now?

In the greenhouse, he said, in a tin box for cigars, behind the flowerpots.

I put it there an hour before you arrived.

I stood up and put on my coat.

We walked across the wet garden together, and he did not try to run.

Behind the third flowerpot we found a small metal box, and inside it the diamond necklace lay on a soft cloth as bright as water in the dark.

Mrs. Hart did not send her nephew to prison.

She was old, and he was the only family she had.

But she sent him away that same week, and she never showed anybody her safe again.

He wrote to her twice a year, and she read the letters, and she answered none of them.

Sometimes people ask me why I told them this story.

I tell it because it shows how a crime is really solved.

It is not luck and it is not magic.

It is a warm chair, a glass of brandy, a closed box, and a man who forgot the title of his book.

New dialogues and stories every day.

Available in 21 subtitle languages.

My name is Stephen Vane, and I am a private detective.

Transcript sa wikang ito

May mga bagong diyalogo at kuwento araw-araw na available sa 21 na wika ng subtitle.

Ang pangalan ko ay Stephen Vane at ako ay isang pribadong detektib. Sa loob ng 20 taon, nalutas ko ang mga krimen

na hindi kayang lutasin ng pulisya. Madalas akong tanungin ng mga tao kung paano ko ito ginagawa, at ang sagot ko ay laging pareho.

Nakikinig ako. Maraming sinasabi ang mga kriminal, at bawat salita ay isang maliit na pinto. Ngayong gabi, gusto kong ikuwento sa inyo ang

isang kaso, dahil ito ay maliit, tahimik, at napakapambihira. Nalutas ko ito sa isang gabi, gamit ang aking mga mata,

ang aking mga tanong, at isang baso ng brandy. Nangyari ito noong Oktubre, sa isang malaking lumang bahay na tinatawag na Greystone.

Ang may-ari ay si Mrs. Eleanor Hart, isang balo na pitumpung taong gulang. Nag-imbita siya ng ilang tao para sa hapunan,

ang kanyang pamangkin na si Daniel, ang kanyang matandang kaibigan na si Mrs. Peake, at ang kanyang abogadong si Mr. Rowe. Ang kasambahay na si Mrs. Bell,

ay nagtrabaho sa bahay na iyon sa loob ng tatlumpung taon. Sa panahon ng hapunan, may nagbukas ng safe

sa study ni Mrs. Hart at kinuha ang isang kwintas na diyamante. Pag-aari ito ng kanyang ina,

at mas mahal pa ito kaysa sa bahay mismo. Tinawagan niya ako nang alas-onse ng gabi,

at nanginginig ang boses niya sa telepono. Pagdating ko, nakarating at nakalabas na ang pulisya.

Wala silang nakitang basag na bintana at wala ring basag na pinto, at wala silang nakitang fingerprint.

Sa kanilang palagay, ang magnanakaw ay hindi estranghero.

Lahat ng naririto ay kaibigan, sabi ni Mrs. Hart sa akin.

Hindi ko alam kung sino ang dapat kong pagkatiwalaan.

Sinabi ko sa kanya na huwag magtiwala kaninuman sa loob ng isang gabi at hayaan akong magtrabaho nang mag-isa.

Malakas ang ulan sa labas, kaya malalim ang putik sa hardin.

Tiningnan ko ang bawat bintana at bawat pinto sa ground floor. Walang kahit isang bakas ng paa na pumasok sa

bahay, at walang kahit isang lumabas. May sinabi ito sa akin na mahalaga. Ang kwintas ay nasa

loob pa rin. Tiningnan ko rin ang safe. Walang marka dito, walang gasgas, walang pinsala. Binuksan ito ng magnanakaw gamit ang susi at ang susi ay nasa isang asul na plorera sa mesa. Tatlo lang ang nakakaalam tungkol sa plorerang iyon:

si Mrs. Hart, ang kasambahay, at, gaya ng nalaman ko mamaya, ang pamangkin. Naglakad ako sa study

nang napakabagal. May upuang nakatayo sa maling lugar, malapit sa bintana, at may baso ng brandy na nakapatong

sa mesa. Hindi umiinom ng brandy si Mrs. Hart, at hindi umiinom ang kasambahay.

Tinanong ko si Mrs. Bell tungkol sa baso, at sinabi niyang laging umiinom ng brandy si Daniel pagkatapos ng hapunan.

Pero maaga siyang umakyat sa kanyang kuwarto ngayong gabi, dagdag niya agad. Sinabi niyang pagod siya.

May isa pa akong napansin, at ito ang pinakamaliit na clue sa lahat. Ang kahon ng kwintas ay nakabalik

sa loob ng safe, nakasara at maayos sa shelf. Ang magnanakaw na tumatakas ay hindi nagsasara ng kahon.

Ang magnanakaw na planong bumalik ay nagsasara. Nang ala-una ng madaling-araw, pumasok ako sa library

kung saan nakaupo nang mag-isa si Daniel Hart. Siya ay 30 taong gulang, maayos ang pananamit, malambot ang mga kamay at mabilis

ang mga mata. Ngumiti siya nang makita ako, pero medyo nahuli ang kanyang ngiti. Ikaw siguro ang sikat na

detektib, sabi niya. Maupo ka. Gusto mo ba ng inumin? Hindi, salamat. Gusto kong magtanong

ng dalawa o tatlong tanong, at pagkatapos ay puwede ka nang matulog. Siyempre, magtanong ka lang. Nasaan ka

noong hapunan? Sa kuwarto ko, sabi niya. Nagbabasa ako. Sumakit ang ulo ko, kaya nanatili ako sa itaas. Kakaiba

iyon, sabi ko. Sinabi sa akin ni Mrs. Bell na nasa mesa ka hanggang sa kape. Tumawa siya. Si Mrs. Bell

ay matanda na, pinaghahalo niya ang mga gabi. Marahil, sabi ko, ano ang binabasa mo? Isang kuwentong misteryo. Gusto ko

ang mga kuwentong misteryo. Gusto ko rin ang mga iyon. Ano ang pamagat? Tumingin siya sa kisame sandali.

Hindi ko matandaan. May kinalaman sa isang pagpatay. Inilapag ko ito nang sumakit ang ulo ko.

Nakalimutan mo ang pamagat ng librong binabasa mo ilang oras lang ang nakalipas, sabi ko. Kawili-wili iyon.

Natatandaan ng mga tao ang pamagat ng mga libro.

Pagod ako, sabi niya.

Tahimik pa rin ang boses niya, pero nagsimulang paglaruan ng mga daliri niya ang isang singsing sa kanyang kamay.

May baso ng brandy sa study ngayong gabi, at may upuang inilapit sa bintana.

May naupo doon sandali at nanood ng ulan. Ang study, hindi ako pumasok sa study. Bakit ako pupunta? Dahil nasa study ang safe, sabi ko, at dahil ikaw lang ang tao sa bahay na ito na umiinom ng brandy.

Tumayo siya at naglakad papunta sa bintana. Kalokohan ito. Nagtitiwala sa akin ang tita ko. Nagtiwala siya

sa akin mula noong bata ako. Alam ko, sabi ko. Ipinakita niya sa iyo ang susi minsan, hindi ba? Sinabi niya mismo sa akin

isang oras ang nakalipas. Sinabi niya, ipinakita ko kay Daniel kung saan ko itinatago ang susi dahil pamilya siya. Tatlo lang

ang nakakaalam tungkol sa asul na plorerang iyon. Sa mahabang sandali, wala siyang sinabi. Hinampas ng ulan ang bintana,

at binilang ng orasan sa dingding ang mga segundo. Pagkatapos ay nagsalita siya sa ibang boses, mas mababa at

mas matigas. Kahit alam ko ang tungkol sa susi, wala iyong pinapatunayan. Sinuman ay maaaring makakita ng plorera. Ang

kasambahay ay maaaring kumuha nito, o ang abogado. Alam niya kung nasaan ang lahat sa bahay na ito.

Hindi uminom ng brandy ang abogado, sabi ko. Hindi binuksan ng kasambahay ang safe dahil

hindi niya kaya. Hindi niya alam ang mga numero, at ang safe ay nangangailangan ng susi at code. Sinabi sa akin ng tita mo

kung sino ang nakakaalam ng dalawa. Wala pa ring ibig sabihin iyon. Sinabi ko sa iyo na nasa kuwarto ka, sabi ko,

pero mainit pa ang upuan sa tabi ng bintana, at may putik sa hawakan ng bintana. May nagbukas

ng bintanang iyon ngayong gabi at tumingin sa labas, malamang para tingnan ang ulan. Ang lalaking nasa kuwarto niya ay hindi nagbubukas

ng bintana sa bagyo. Lumingon siya. Kalokohan ito. Gumagawa ka ng kuwento mula sa

wala. Gumagawa ako ng kuwento mula sa maliliit na bagay, sabi ko. Iyon ang trabaho ko. At may isa pang

maliit na bagay. Ang kahon ng kwintas ay nakasara at naibalik sa safe. Nagsasara lang ng kahon ang magnanakaw kapag

plano niyang bumalik para kunin ito mamaya. Gusto niyang magmukhang normal ang lahat sa loob ng ilang araw.

Ano ngayon? Baka bumalik ang magnanakaw. Hindi ako iyon. Kung gayon, hahanapin ko ang buong bahay sa

umaga. Bawat kuwarto, bawat bag, bawat kahon. Magsisimula ako sa greenhouse dahil mainit at

tuyo doon. Nagtatago ang mga tao ng mga bagay sa mainit at tuyong lugar. Nagbago ang mukha niya. Napakaliit,

isang galaw lang ng bibig, pero nakita ko. Tumingin siya sa pinto, pagkatapos sa bintana,

pagkatapos sa sarili niyang mga kamay. Ang greenhouse, ulit niya. Oo. Mayroon bang isang bagay sa greenhouse, Daniel? Muli siyang umupo at inilagay ang ulo sa kanyang mga kamay sandali. Hindi ako nagsalita. Minsan ang pinakamagandang tanong ay katahimikan

at natutunan kong gamitin ito. Pagkatapos ay tumingin siya sa akin, at basa ang mga mata niya. May utang ako, sabi niya,

dalawang libong libra. Natalo ko ito sa baraha, at ang mga lalaking pinagkakautangan ko ay hindi magiliw na tao.

Binigyan nila ako hanggang Biyernes.

Hindi ko planong saktan ang tita ko.

Gusto ko lang hiramin ang kwintas sa loob ng isang linggo.

Ibebenta ko sana ito, babayaran ang mga lalaki, at bibilhin pabalik bago may makapansin.

Kaya ginamit mo ang susi at ang code?

Napanood ko siyang buksan ang safe noong nakaraang Pasko.

Hindi niya ito inilihim sa akin.

Nagtiwala siya sa akin.

Medyo naputol ang boses niya.

Kinuha ko ang kwintas nang alas-nuwebe habang nasa mesa ang lahat.

Pagkatapos ay pumunta ako sa study.

Uminom ng brandy, at naupo sa tabi ng bintana hanggang tumigil sa panginginig ang mga kamay ko.

Isinara ko ang kahon at ibinalik ito dahil gusto ko ng ilang tahimik na araw.

Nasaan ang kwintas ngayon?

Sa greenhouse, sabi niya, sa isang lata ng tabako, sa likod ng mga paso ng bulaklak.

Inilagay ko ito doon isang oras bago ka dumating.

Tumayo ako at isinuot ang aking amerikana.

Magkasama kaming naglakad sa basang hardin, at hindi siya nagtangkang tumakas.

Sa likod ng ikatlong paso ng bulaklak, nakakita kami ng isang maliit na kahon na metal,

at sa loob nito, nakahiga ang kwintas na diyamante sa malambot na tela na kasing ningning ng tubig sa dilim.

Hindi ipinadala ni Mrs. Hart sa bilangguan ang kanyang pamangkin.

Matanda na siya, at siya lang ang tanging pamilya niya.

Pero pinaalis niya ito sa parehong linggo, at hindi na niya ipinakita kaninuman ang kanyang safe muli.

Dalawang beses siyang nagsulat sa isang taon, at binabasa niya ang mga liham, at wala siyang sinagot kahit isa.

Minsan tinatanong ako ng mga tao kung bakit ko sinasabi sa kanila ang kuwentong ito.

Sinasabi ko ito dahil ipinapakita nito kung paano talaga nalulutas ang isang krimen.

Hindi ito swerte at hindi ito mahika.

Ito ay isang mainit na upuan, isang baso ng brandy, isang saradong kahon, at isang lalaking nakalimutan ang pamagat ng kanyang libro.

May mga bagong diyalogo at kuwento araw-araw.

Available sa 21 na wika ng subtitle.

Ang pangalan ko ay Stephen Vane, at ako ay isang pribadong detektib.