alistairmaclean.bearisland-第9部分

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the　High　Savoy；　where；　apparently；　this　was　not　an　altogether　unmon　name。　The　film　crew；　inevitably；　referred　to　him　as　in〃　and　Goin'；　but　Goin　was　probably　wholly　unaware　of　this：　he　was　not　the　sort　of　man　with　whom　one　took　liberties。
　Any　other　person　entering　the　dining　saloon　from　the　main　deck　on　a　night　like　that　would　have　presented　an　appearance　that　would　have　varied　from　the　wind…blown　to　the　dishevelled。　Not　one　hair　of　Goin's　black；　smooth；　centre…parted；　brushed…back　hair　was　out　of　place：　had　I　been　told　that　he　eschewed　the　standard　proprietary　hairdressing　creams　in　favour　of　cowhide　glue；　I　would　have　seen　no　reason　to　doubt　it。　And　the　hair　style　was　typical　of　the　man…everything　smooth；　calm；　unruffled　；　and　totally　under　control。　In　one　area　only　did　the　parison　fall　down。　The　hair　style　was　slick；　but　Goin　wasn't：　he　was　just　plain　clever。　He　was　of　medium　height；　plump　without　being　fat；　with　a　smooth；　unlined　face。　He　was　the　only　man　I'd　ever　seen　wearing　pince…nez；　and　that　only　for　the　finest　of　fine　print　which；　in　Goin's　line　of　business；　came　his　way　quite　often：　the　pince…nez　looked　so　inevitable　that　it　was　unthinkable　that　he　should　ever　wear　any　other　type　of　reading　aid。　He　was；　above　all；　a　civilised　man　and　urbane　in　the　best　sense　of　the　word。
　He　picked　up　a　glass　from　a　rack；　timed　the　wild　staggering　of　the　Morning　Rose　to　walk　quickly　and　surely　to　the　scat　on　my　right；　picked　up　the　Black　Label　and　said：　〃May　l？〃
　〃Easy　e；　easy　go；〃　I　said。　〃I've　just　stolen　it　from　Mr。　Gerran's　private　supply。〃
　〃Confession　noted。〃　He　helped　himself。　〃This　makes　me　an　accessory。　Cheers。〃
　I　assume　you've　just　e　from　Mr。　Gerran；〃　I　said。
　〃Yes。　He's　most　upset。　Sad；　sad；　about　that　poor　young　boy。　An　unfortunate　business。〃　That　；…；as　something　else　about　Goin；　he　always　got　his　priorities　right：　the　average　pany　accountant；　confronted　with　the　news　of　the　death　of　a　member　of　a　team；　would　immediately　have　wondered　how　the　death　would　affect　the　project　as　a　whole：　Goin　saw　the　human　side　of　it　first。　Or；　I　thought；　he　spoke　of　it　first：　I　knew　I　was　being　unfair　to　him。　He　went　on：　I　understand　you've　so　far　been　unable　to　establish　the　cause　of　death。〃　Diplomacy；　inevitably；　was　second　nature　to　Goin：　he　could　so　easily　and　truthfully　have　said　that　I　just　hadn't　a　clue。　So　I　said　it　for　him。　I　haven't　a　clue。〃
　〃You'll　never　get　to　Harley　Street　talking　that　way。〃
　〃Poison；　that's　certain。　But　that's　all　that's　certain。　I　carry　the　usual　seagoing　medical　library　around　with　me；　but　that　isn't　much　help。　To　identify　a　poison　you　must　be　able　either　to　carry　out　a　chemical　analysis　or　observe　the　poison　at　work　on　the　victim…most　of　the　major　poisons　have　symptoms　peculiar　to　themselves　and　follow　their　own　highly　idiosyncratic　courses。　But　Antonio　x…；；as　dead　before　I　got　to　him　and　I　lack　the　facilities　to　do　any　pathological　work；　assuming　I　could　do　it　in　the　first　place。〃
　〃You're　destroying　all　my　faith　in　the　medical　profession。　Cyanide？〃
　Impossible。　Antonio　took　time　to　die。　A　couple　of　drops　of　hydrocyanic　…prussic　acid…or　even　a　tiny　quantity　of　pharmacopocial　acid；　and　that's　only　two　percent　of　anhydrous　prussic　acid…and　you're　dead　before　your　glass　hits　the　floor。　And　cyanide　makes　it　murder；　it　always　makes　it　murder　。　There's　no　way　I　know　of　it　can　be　administered　by　accident。　Antonio's　death；　I'm　certain；　was　an　accident。〃
　Goin　helped　himself　to　some　more　Scotch。　〃What　makes　you　so　certain　it　was　an　accident？〃
　〃What　makes　me　so　certain？〃　That　was　a　difficult　one　to　answer　off　the　cuff　owing　to　the　fact　that　I　was　convinced　it　was　no　accident　at　all。　〃First；　there　was　no　opportunity　for　the　administering　of　poison。　We　know　that　Antonio　was　alone　in　his　cabin　all　afternoon　right　until　dinnertime。〃　I　looked　at　the　Count。　〃Did　Antonio　have　any　private　food　supplies　with　him　in　his　cabin？〃
　〃How　did　you　guess？〃　The　Count　looked　surprised。
　〃I'm　not　guessing。　I'm　eliminating。　He　had？〃
　〃Two　hampers。　Full　of　glass　jars…I　think　I　mentioned　that　Antonio　would　never　eat　anything　out　of　a　tin…with　all　sorts　of　weird　vegetable　products　inside；　including　dozens　of　baby　food　jars　with　all　sorts　of　purees　in　them。　A　very　finicky　eater；　was　poor　Antonio。〃
　〃So　I'm　beginning　to　gather。　I　think　our　answer　will　lie　there。　I'll　have　Captain　Imrie　impound　his　supplies　and　have　them　analysed　on　our　return。　To　get　back　to　the　opportunity　factor。　Antonio　came　up　to　the　dining　saloon　here；　had　the　same　as　the　rest　of　us？'
　〃No　fruit　juices；　no　soup；　no　lamb　chops；　no　potatoes；〃　the　Count　said。
　〃None　of　those。　But　what　he　did　have　we　all　had。　Then　straight　back　to　his　cabin。　In　the　second　place；　who　would　want　to　kill　a　harmless　person　like　that…especially　as　Antonio　was　a　total　stranger　to　all　of　us　and　only　joined　us　at　Wick　for　the　first　time？　And　who　but　a　madman　would　administer　a　deadly　poison　in　a　closed　munity　like　this　knowing　that　he　couldn't　escape　and　that　Scotland　Yard　would　be　leaning　over　the　quay　walls　in　Wick；　just　waiting　for　our　return？〃
　〃Maybe　that's　the　way　a　madman　would　figure　a　sane　person　would　Figure；〃　Goin　said。
　〃What　English　king　was　it　who　died　of　a　surfeit　of　lampreys？〃　the　Count　said。　If　you　ask　me；　our　unfortunate　Antonio　may　well　have　perished　from　a　surfeit　of　horse…radish。〃
　〃Like　enough。〃　I　pushed　back　my　chair　and　made　to　rise。　But　I　didn't　get　up　immediately。　Way　back　in　the　dim　and　lost　recesses　of　my　mind　the　Count　had　triggered　off　a　tiny　bell；　an　infinitesimal　tinkle　so　distant　and　remote　that　if　I　hadn't　been　listening　with　all　my　ears　I'd　have　missed　it　pletely：　but　I　had　been　listening；　the　way　people　always　listen　when　they　know；　without　knowing　why；　that　the　old　man　with　the　scythe　is　standing　there　in　the　wings；　winding　up　for　the　back　stroke。　I　knew　both　men　were　watching　me。　I　sighed。　〃Decisions；　decisions。　Antonio　has　to　be　attended　to…〃
　〃With　canvas？〃　Goin　said。
　〃With　canvas。　Count's　cabin　cleaned　up。　Death　has　to　be　logged。　Death　certificate。　And　Mr。　Smith　will　have　to　make　the　funeral　arrangements。〃
　〃Mr。　Smith？〃　The　Count　was　vaguely　surprised。　〃Not　our　worthy　manding　officer。〃
　〃Captain　Imrie　is　in　the　arms　of　Morpheus；〃　I　said。　〃I've　tried。〃
　〃You　have　your　deities　mixed　up；〃　Goin　said。　〃Tacchus　is　the　one　you're　after。〃
　I　suppose　it　is。　Excuse　me；　gentlemen。〃
　I　went　directly　to　my　cabin　but　not　to　write　out　any　death　certificate。
　As　I'd　told　Goin；　I　did　carry　a　medical　library　of　sorts　around　with　me　and　it　was　of　a　fair　size。　I　selected　several　books；　including　Glaisters's　Medical　Jurisprudence　and　Toxicology；　9th　edition　（Edinburgh；　1950）；　Dewar's　Textbook　of　Forensic　Pharmacy　（London；　1946）　and　Gonzales's；　Vance's　and　Helpern's　Legal　Medicine　and　Toxicology；　which　seemed　to　be　a　prewar　book。　I　started　consulting　indices　and　within　five　minutes　I　had　it。
　The　entry　was　listed　under　〃Systemic　Poisons〃　and　was　headed　Aconite。
　〃Bot。　A　poisonous　plant　of　the　order　Ranunculaccae。　Particular　reference　Monk's…hood　and　Wolf's…bane。　Phar。　Aconitum　napellus。　This；　and　aconitine；　an　alkaloid　extract　of　the　former；　is　monly　regarded　as　the　most　lethal　of　all　poisons　yet　identified：　a　dose　of　not　more　than　0。004　gm　is　deadly　to　man。　Aconite　and　its　alkaloid　produce　a　burning　and　peculiar　tingling　and　numbing　effect　where　applied。　Later；　especially　with　larger　doses；　violent　vomiting　results；　followed　by　paralysis　of　motion；　paralysis　of　sensation　and　great　depression　of　the　heart；　followed　by　death　from　syncope。
　〃Treatment。　To　be　successful　must　be　immediate　as　possible。　Gastric　lavage；　iz　gm。　of　tannic　acid　in　two　gallons　of　warm　water；　followed　by　1。2　gm。　tannic　acid　in　18o　ml。　tepid　water：　this　should　be　followed　by　animal　charcoal　suspended　in　water。　Cardiac　and　respiratory　stimulants；　artificial　respiration　and　oxygen　will　be　necessary　as　indicated。
　〃N。B。　The　root　of　aconite　has　frequently　been　eaten　in　mistake　for　that　of　horse…radish。〃
　
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　I　was　still　looking　at；　but　no　longer　really　reading　the　article　on　aconite　when　it　was　gradually　borne　in　upon　my　preoccupation　that　there　was　something　very　far　amiss　with　the　Morning　Rose。　She　was　still　under　way；　her　elderly　oil…fired　steam　engines　throbbing　along　as　dependably　as　ever；　but　her　motion　had　changed。　Her　rolling　factor　had　increased　till　she　was　swinging　wickedly　and　dismayingly　through　an　angle　of　close　on　seventy　degrees：　the　pitching　factor　had　correspondingly　decreased　and　the　thudding　jarring　vibration　of　the　bluff　bows　smashing　into　the　quartering　seas　had　fallen　away　to　a　fraction　of　what　it　had　previously　been。
　I　marked　the　article；　closed　the　book　then　lurched　and　stumbled…I　could　not　be　said　to　have　run　for　it　was　physically　impossible…along　the　passageway；　up　the　panionway；　through　the　lounge　and　out　on　to　the　upper　deck。　It　was　dark　but　not　so　dark　as　to　prevent　me　from　gauging　direction　by　the　feel　of　the　gale　wind；　by　the　spume　blowing　off　the　top　of　the　confused　seas。　I　shrank　back　and　tightened　my　grip　on　a　convenient　handrail　as　a　great　wall　of　water；　black　and　veined　and　evil；　reared　up　on　the　port　side；　just　foreword　of　the　beam：　it　was　at　least　ten　feel？　higher　than　my　head。　I　was　certain　that　the　wave；　with　the　hundreds　of　tons　of　water　it　contained；　was　going　to　crash　down　square　on　the　foredeck　of　the　trawler；　I　couldn't　see　how　it　could　fail　to；　but　fail　it　did：　as　the　wave　bore　down　on　us；　the　trough　to　starboard　deepened　and　the　Morning　Rose；　rolling　over　to　almost　forty　degrees；　simply　fell　into　it；　pressed　down　by　the　great　weight　of　water　on　its　exposed　port　side。　There　came　the　familiar　flat　explosive　thunderclap　of　sound；　the　Morning　Rose　vibrated　and　groaned　as　overstressed　plates　and　rivets　adjusted　to　cope　with　the　sudden　shearing　strain；　white；　icily　cold　water　foamed　over　the　starboard　side　and　swirled　around　my　ankles　and　then　it　was　gone；　gurgling　through　the　scuppers　as　the　Morning　Rose　rig〃　righted　herself　and　rolled　far　over　on　its　other　side。　There　was　no　worry　about　any　of　this；　no　threat　to　safety　and　life；　this　was　what　Arctic　trawlers　had　been　built　for　and　the　Morning　Rose　could　continue　to　absorb　this　punishment　indefinitely。　But　there　was　cause　for　worry；　if　such　a　word　can　be　used　to　express　a　desperately　acute　anxiety：　that　massive　wave；　which　had　caught　the　trawler　on　her　port　now；　had　knocked　her　almost　twenty　degrees　off　course。　She　was　still　twenty　degrees　off　course；　and　twenty　degrees　off　course　she　remained：　nobody　was　making　any　attempt　to　bring　her　round。　Another；　and　a　smaller　sea；　and　then　she　was　lying　five　more　degrees　over　to　the　cast　and　here；　too；　she　remained。　I　ran　for　the　bridge　ladder。
　I　bumped　into　and　almost　knocked　down　a　person　at　the　precise　spot　where　I'd　bumped　into　Mary　dear　an　hour　ago。　Contact　this　time　was　much　more　solid　and　the　person　said　〃Oof！〃　or　something　of　that　sort。　The　kind　of　gasp　a　winded　lady　makes　is　quite　different　from　a　man's　and　instinct　and　a　kind　of　instantaneous　reasoning　told　me　that　I　had　bumped　into　the　same　person　again：　Judith　Haynes　would　be　in　bed　with　her　spaniels　and　Nary　Darling　was　either　with　Allen　or　in　bed　dreaming　about　him：　neither；　anyway；　was　the　outdoor　type。　
　I　said　something　that　might　have　been　misco