“I remember,” he said triumphantly. “I remember reciting Kipling’s Boots.”

小主，

六十秒后，海伦说：“太棒了！现在你能告诉我第二节怎么背吗？我一直想知道。”

After sixty seconds Helene said. “Wonderful! Now can you tell me how the second verse goes? I’ve always wanted to know.”

“我很乐意。是……” 年轻人靠在枕头上，自言自语道，“恐怕我忘了。”

“I’ll be glad to. It’s—” The young man lay back on his pillow, muttering to himself. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten it.”

“也许你从第一节开始背，然后引出第二节，” 海伦满怀希望地建议道。

“Maybe if you started with the first verse and led into it,” Helene suggested hopefully.

罗斯?麦克劳林张了几次嘴，最后说：“对不起，我一点都想不起来了。不过是关于靴子的什么。”

Ross McLaurin opened his mouth once or twice, finally said, “I’m sorry, I can’t recall any of it. Something about boots, though.”

马龙气愤地咒骂着，说：“也许我们应该休会去公共图书馆。你就不能再想起点昨天的事吗？”

Malone swore indignantly and said, “Maybe we ought to adjourn to the Public Library. Can’t you remember anything more about yesterday?”

罗斯?麦克劳林盯着天花板看了很久。“一点都想不起来了，” 他最后说。

Ross McLaurin looked at the ceiling for a long time. “Not a thing,” he said at last.

海伦转向小律师。“也许如果……”

Helene turned to the little lawyer. “Maybe if—”

马龙示意她别说话。“听着，麦克劳林，” 他非常肯定地说，“114 这个数字是什么意思？”

Malone gestured her to silence. “Listen, McLaurin.” he said very positively. “What does the number one-fourteen mean?”

年轻人盯着他。“114。114。我不知道。它有什么特别的意思吗？”

The young man stared at him. “One-fourteen. One-fourteen. I don’t know. Is it supposed to mean anything?”

“没关系，” 马龙说，“当你想到钥匙的时候，你会想到什么？”

“Never mind,” Malone said. “What do you think of when you think of a key?”

“钥匙孔，” 罗斯?麦克劳林立刻回答道。

“A keyhole,” Ross McLaurin said promptly.

马龙叹了口气。“不，不，不。某个特定的钥匙。”

Malone sighed. “No, no, no. Some specific key.”

麦克劳林想了一会儿。“钥匙湾？” 他热心地提议道。

McLaurin thought for a moment. “Key West?” he suggested helpfully.

“算了吧，马龙，” 杰克说，“他没有你的钥匙。”

“Drop it, Malone,” Jake said. “He hasn’t got your key.”

海伦点了一支烟，坐在那里透过烟雾凝视着。“也许我们一开始就错了。也许我们在倒着走。”

Helene lit a cigarette and sat staring through its smoke. “Maybe we’re beginning at the wrong end. Maybe we’re going backward.”

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“你是说就像马车被偷后把马放在谷仓门前面？” 杰克问。

“You mean like putting the horse before the barn door after the cart has been stolen?” Jake asked.

她皱着眉头看着香烟。“也许如果我们回顾一下这个人的生活，我们可能会发现一些相关的事实。给我们简单介绍一下你自己吧，罗斯？”

She frowned at the cigarette. “Perhaps if we reviewed this guy’s life, we might hit on some pertinent fact. How about a thumbnail sketch of yourself, Ross?”

他对着她微笑，靠在枕头上显得很虚弱。“我叫罗斯?麦克劳林。我的家人来自波士顿。我的曾祖父是罗斯?麦克劳林，他……”

He smiled at her, wan against the pillows. “My name is Ross McLaurin. My people e from Boston. My great-grandfather was the Ross McLaurin who—”

“别管那些了，” 海伦赶紧说，“从这一代开始讲起。”

“Never mind all that,” Helene said hastily, “start with the present generation.”

“我出生在波士顿。我母亲是韦斯科特家族的人。她有艺术气质，年轻时在巴黎学过绘画。” 突然，他年轻的眼睛变得又黑又亮。“你知道，如果她能得到真正的鼓励，她会成为一位伟大的艺术家。我知道她会的。”

“I was born in Boston. My mother was a Wescott. She had an artistic nature, and studied painting in Paris when she was a girl.” Suddenly his young eyes grew dark and glistening. “You know, if she’d had any real encouragement, she’d have been a great artist. I know she would.”

“我相信，” 海伦温柔地说，“继续。”

“I’m sure of it,” Helene said gently. “Go on.”

“我父亲在我还是个婴儿的时候就去世了。然后我们一直住在巴黎，直到我快五岁的时候，我们搬到了马略卡岛。我实际上是在那里长大的。我在英国上过几年学，但大部分时间我都有家庭教师。弗朗西斯卡希望我和她在一起。”

“My father died when I was just a baby. Then we lived in Paris until I was nearly five, and then we moved to Majorca. I really grew up there. I went to school in England a few years, but most of the time I had a tutor. Francesca wanted me with her.”

“弗朗西斯卡是个城市，” 杰克说，“旧金山。”

“Francesca is a city,” Jake said. “San Francesca.”

罗斯?麦克劳林摇了摇头。“那是我一直对我母亲的称呼。她的真名叫弗朗西丝，但她自称弗朗西斯卡。她的灵魂完全与古老的意大利精神融为一体。”

Ross McLaurin shook his head. “That’s what I always called my mother. Her name was really Frances, but she called herself Francesca. Her soul was entirely one with the spirit of the old Italy.”

小主，

马龙赶紧忍住吹口哨的冲动，说道：“这非常有趣。”

Malone hastily smothered a whistle, and said, “This is extremely interesting.”

“弗朗西斯卡画了很多画，但她从来没有完成过任何一幅。她就像一个任性的孩子。她过去常对我说，‘罗斯，我仍然像一个任性的孩子。在我看来，你更像一个父亲而不是儿子。’当然，她从来没有完成过任何作品也没关系，因为我们有很多钱，而且她无论如何也不需要卖掉任何画。弗朗西斯卡是一个非常迷人的女人。我希望你能认识她。”