项链失窃后，侦探在书房问了侄子什么

英文文本

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.

本语言文本

每天都有新的对话和故事，提供21种字幕语言。

我叫斯蒂芬·瓦内，是一名私家侦探。20年来，我一直在侦破

警方无法解决的犯罪案件。人们常问我怎么做到的，我的回答总是一样。

我倾听。罪犯话很多，每一个字都是一扇小门。今晚，我想给你们讲

一个案子，因为它小、安静，而且非常奇怪。我用一夜时间破了案，靠我的眼睛、

我的问题和一杯白兰地。事情发生在十月，在一栋叫格雷斯通的大老房子里。

房主是埃莉诺·哈特夫人，一个七十岁的寡妇。她邀请了几个人来吃晚饭，

她的侄子丹尼尔、她的老朋友皮克夫人和她的律师罗先生。管家贝尔夫人

在那栋房子里工作了三十年。晚饭期间，有人打开了哈特夫人书房里的

保险箱，拿走了一条钻石项链。那项链曾属于她母亲，

价值超过房子本身。她那天晚上十一点打电话给我，

电话里她的声音在发抖。我到的时候，警察已经来过又走了。

他们没发现破窗，也没发现破门，而且根本没找到指纹。

在他们看来，小偷不是陌生人。

这里的每个人都是朋友，哈特夫人告诉我。

我不知道该信任谁。

我告诉她一夜之内谁都别信，让我独自工作。

外面的雨很大，所以花园里满是泥泞。

我检查了一楼的每扇窗和每扇门。没有一个脚印进入

房子，也没有一个出去。这告诉了我一件重要的事。项链还在

里面。我还检查了保险箱。上面没有痕迹，没有划痕，没有损坏。小偷是用钥匙打开的，而钥匙放在桌上的一只蓝色花瓶里。只有三个人知道那只花瓶

哈特夫人、管家，还有我后来得知的侄子。我慢慢地穿过书房。

一把椅子放错了位置，靠近窗户，桌上放着一杯

白兰地。哈特夫人不喝白兰地，管家根本不喝酒。

我问贝尔夫人关于那杯酒的事，她说丹尼尔晚饭后总是喝白兰地。

但他今晚早早回房间了，她赶紧补充道。他说他累了。

我还注意到另一件事，这是所有线索中最小的。项链盒子被放回了

保险箱里，关得整整齐齐放在架子上。逃跑的小偷不会关上盒子。

打算回来的小偷才会。凌晨一点，我走进图书室，

丹尼尔·哈特独自坐在那里。他30岁，衣着讲究，手很柔软，眼睛

很机灵。他看到我时笑了，但他的笑容来得有点太晚。你一定是那位著名的

侦探，他说。请坐。你想喝一杯吗？不，谢谢。我想问你

两三个问题，然后你就可以去睡了。当然，随便问。晚饭时你在

哪里？在我房间，他说。我在看书。我头疼，所以待在楼上。那很

奇怪，我说。贝尔夫人告诉我你在桌边待到喝咖啡的时候。他笑了。贝尔夫人

老了，她把晚上搞混了。也许吧，我说，你在读什么？一个悬疑故事。我喜欢

悬疑故事。我也喜欢。书名是什么？他盯着天花板看了一会儿。

我不记得了。关于谋杀什么的。我头疼时就把书放下了。

你忘了你几小时前还在读的一本书的书名，我说。这很有趣。

人们会记得书名。

我累了，他说。

他的声音仍然平静，但他的手指开始摆弄手上的一枚戒指。

今晚书房里有一杯白兰地，一把椅子被移到窗边。

有人在那里坐了一会儿，看着雨。书房？我从没进过书房。我为什么要进？因为保险箱在书房里，我说，而且因为你是这房子里唯一喝白兰地的人。

他站起来走到窗边。这太荒谬了。我姑妈信任我。她从小就

信任我。我知道，我说。她给你看过一次钥匙，对吧？她一小时前

亲口告诉我的。她说，我给丹尼尔看过我放钥匙的地方，因为他是家人。只有三个人

知道那只蓝色花瓶。很长一段时间他什么也没说。雨打在窗户上，

墙上的钟数着秒。然后他用不同的声音说话，更低、

更硬。就算我知道钥匙，也证明不了什么。任何人都可能看到那只花瓶。

管家可能拿了，或者律师。他知道这房子里每样东西在哪里。

律师不喝白兰地，我说。管家打不开保险箱，因为她

不会。她不知道密码，而保险箱需要钥匙和密码。你姑妈告诉了我

谁知道这两样。那仍然说明不了什么。我告诉过你你在房间里，我说，

但窗边的椅子还是温的，窗把手上还有泥。今晚有人打开了

那扇窗往外看，大概是为了查看雨势。一个在房间里的人不会在暴风雨中

开窗。他转过身来。这太荒谬了。你在凭空编故事。

我是在用小事情编故事，我说。那是我的工作。还有一件

小事。项链盒子被关上并放回了保险箱。小偷只有在打算

以后回来取时才会关上盒子。他想让一切看起来正常几天。

那又怎样？也许小偷要回来。那不是我。那我早上就搜这栋

房子。每个房间、每个包、每个盒子。我从温室开始，因为那里又暖又

干。人们把东西藏在温暖干燥的地方。他的脸色变了。变化很小，

只是嘴动了一下，但我看到了。他看了看门，又看了看窗，

然后看了看自己的手。温室，他重复道。是的。温室里有什么东西吗，丹尼尔？他又坐下，双手抱头一分钟。我没有说话。有时最好的问题就是沉默，

而我学会了使用它。然后他抬起头，眼睛湿了。我欠钱，他说，

两千英镑。我打牌输了，而我欠钱的那些人不是温和的人。

他们给我期限到周五。

我没打算伤害我姑妈。

我只是想借那条项链一周。

我打算卖掉它，还钱给那些人，然后在任何人发现之前买回来。

所以你用了钥匙和密码？

去年圣诞节我看着她打开保险箱。

她没有瞒着我。

她信任我。

他的声音有点哽咽。

九点钟大家都在桌边时我拿走了项链。

然后我去了书房。

喝了一杯白兰地，坐在窗边直到我的手不再发抖。

我关上盒子放回去，因为我想要几天安静。

项链现在在哪里？

在温室里，他说，在一个装雪茄的铁盒里，花盆后面。

你到达前一小时我把它放在那里。

我站起来穿上外套。

我们一起穿过潮湿的花园，他没有试图逃跑。

在第三个花盆后面，我们找到一个小金属盒，

里面钻石项链躺在柔软的布上，在黑暗中亮如水面。

哈特夫人没有把侄子送进监狱。

她老了，而他是她唯一的家人。

但她在同一周把他送走了，而且她再也没有给任何人看她的保险箱。

他每年给她写两次信，她读了那些信，但一封也没回。

有时人们问我为什么讲这个故事。

我讲它是因为它展示了犯罪是如何真正被侦破的。

不是靠运气，也不是靠魔法。

是一把温热的椅子、一杯白兰地、一个关上的盒子和一个忘了书名的男人。

每天都有新的对话和故事。

提供21种字幕语言。

我叫斯蒂芬·瓦内，是一名私家侦探。