“听着，”马龙突然说，“这都是怎么回事？你有案子，也逮捕了人。你还不满意吗？”
“Look here,” Malone said suddenly. “What’s all this about? You’ve got a case, you’ve made an arrest. Aren’t you satisfied?”
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“我当然满意。但我很生气。我非常生气。对不起，麦克莱恩夫人。但干这份工作已经够糟糕的了，大家还都瞒着我信息，让我的工作更难进行。”他开始发表长篇大论。
“Sure I’m satisfied. But I’m sore. I’m sore as hell. Pardon me, Mrs. McClane. But it’s bad enough to hold this job, without everybody making it tough for me by holding out information.” He was launched into his lecture.
但等他讲完，他显然觉得从莫娜·麦克莱恩那里再也问不出什么了。三分钟后，马龙把杰克和海伦推进一辆出租车。
But the time he had finished, he evidently decided that nothing further would be learned from Mona McClane. Three minutes later Malone was ushering Jake and Helene into a taxicab.
“罗斯代尔公墓。”他告诉司机。
“Rosedale cemetery,” he told the driver.
“听着，”杰克说，“我已经受够了公墓，不管是私人的还是别的什么，这辈子都不想再去了。”
“Listen,” Jake said, “I’ve had enough of cemeteries, private or otherwise, to last me till I need one.”
“还有为什么——”海伦刚开口。
“And why—” Helene began.
“我要亲眼看看。”马龙神秘地说，“而且，我要有人见证。”
“I want to see it with my own eyes,” Malone said cryptically. “What’s more, I want witnesses along.”
“看什么？”她追问道。
“See what?” she demanded.
“到了你就知道了。”他闷闷不乐地望着窗外，不再说一个字。
“You’ll find out when you get there.” He stared moodily out the window and refused to say another word.
杰克叹了口气。这一天很沉闷，街上堆积着被踩实的雪，阴沉的雾气造成了一种半明半暗的状态，让一排排凄凉的房子看起来比实际上更加破败。去罗斯代尔公墓的路要经过镇上一个单调压抑的地方。杰克希望自己在世界上的任何其他地方。
Jake sighed. The day was dreary, muddied snow was packed down on the streets, and a gloomy mist had produced a semidarkness that made forlorn rows of houses seem even dingier than they actually were. The way to Rosedale cemetery led through a monotonously depressing part of town. Jake wished he were anywhere else in the world.
罗斯代尔公墓占地约一平方英里左右，一侧紧靠着高架铁路。出租车在一个大门前停下，马龙把头伸进小小的管理员值班室，大声喊着“亨利”。
Rosedale cemetery stretched over a square mile or so, one side of it backed up against the elevated. The taxi stopped at a gate where Malone poked his head into the small attendant’s booth and bawled loudly for “Henry.”
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亨利原来是个像小矮人一样的小个子男人，快活又健谈，他像见到老朋友一样跟马龙打招呼。原来，马龙在过去的某个时候曾设法把亨利的一个亲戚从监狱里保释出来。亨利解释说，这就是为什么当他在报纸上看到马龙跟这些图伊兹谋杀案有关时，他就给马龙打电话告诉他关于那块墓碑的事。
Henry proved to be a gnomelike little man, cheerfully garrulous, who greeted Malone like an old friend. Malone had, it appeared, managed the release of one of Henry’s kinfolk from jail at some time in the past. That was why, Henry explained, when he’d read in the papers that Malone was concerned in these Tuesday murders, he’d called up Malone to tell him about the tombstone.
“什么墓碑？”杰克不耐烦地问。
“What tombstone?” Jake asked crossly.
亨利咧嘴一笑，“你会看到的。”
Henry grinned, “You’ll see.”
他们跟着他走了很长一段路，穿过一堆堆被煤烟覆盖的积雪，小心翼翼地在一滩滩烂泥之间择路而行。在公墓的一个角落里，亨利在一块灰色的石碑旁停了下来，这块石碑与其他石碑稍有间隔，看上去很是自豪，仿佛他在炫耀自己的一项个人成就。
They followed him for a long way, between drifts of soot-encrusted snow, picking the way carefully between pools of slush. In a far corner of the cemetery Henry paused beside a gray stone that stood somewhat apart from the rest, looking as proud as though he were showing off a personal achievement.
马龙拂去石碑上的雪，读了上面的字，然后默默地指了指它：
杰拉尔德·图伊兹
生于 1892 年 10 月 12 日
卒于 1921 年 7 月 2 日
Malone brushed the snow away from the stone, read it, and pointed to it silently:
GERALD TUESDAY
b. Oct. 12, 1892
d. July 2, 1921
“我记得它在那儿。”老人咯咯笑着说，“我认识这里的每一块石碑，就好像它们是我的亲人一样。不过我没告诉警察。只告诉了马龙先生，因为他是我的朋友。”
“I ’membered it was there,” the old man cackled. “Know every stone in the place, like it was one of my own kin. Didn’t tell the p’lice though. Just Mr. Malone, because he’s my friend.”
马龙似乎没听到他的话。突然，他跪下来，开始扒拉堆积在坟墓上的雪。这时杰克注意到雪有一种奇怪的粗糙感，几乎是凹凸不平的。他看着马龙，兴奋感越来越强烈。海伦的手紧紧抓住他的胳膊。
Malone hadn’t seemed to hear him. Suddenly he knelt down and began pawing at the snow that had drifted over the grave. Jake noticed then that the snow had an oddly rough, almost bumpy appearance. He watched Malone with growing excitement. Helene’s hand clutched his arm and held it tight.
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最后，这位小律师站了起来。“有人挖过这里。”他转向亨利，“我想有人可能会在不被发现的情况下进到这里来四处挖掘。”
At last the little lawyer rose to his feet. “Somebody has been digging.” He turned to Henry. “I suppose it would be possible for someone to have e in here and dug around without being discovered.”
亨利点点头。“晚上除了我这里只有一个守夜人，而且大多数时间他都在另一个门那儿睡觉。一般来说，这里不需要太多看守。”
Henry nodded. “There’s just one watchman here besides me at night, and most of the time he’s asleep, down at the other gate. This ain’t a place that would need much watching, ordinarily.”
马龙默默地盯着被雪覆盖的土堆看了一会儿。
Malone stared silently at the snow-covered mound for a moment.
突然，他伸手去拿钱包，拿出一张十美元的钞票。
Suddenly he reached for his wallet and took out a ten-dollar bill.
“那样的话，我想可能会有其他人进到这里来——比如说，今晚——再挖一挖——只是为了弄清楚这里发生了什么事。”
“In that case, I suppose it might be possible for someone else to e in here—say, tonight—and do a little more digging—just to find out what happened here.”
这个像小矮人一样的男人眼睛发亮。“如果他们是你的朋友，马龙先生，而且他们从东门进来，我肯定没人会看到任何东西。”他干枯的老手指紧紧抓住钞票。“我想我不应该把这件事告诉其他人。”
The gnomelike man’s eyes glittered. “If they was friends of yours, Mr. Malone, and they came in at the east gate, I’m sure nobody’d see a thing.” His withered old fingers closed over the bill. “I don’t suppose I should tell anybody else about this.”
“谁也不能说。”马龙告诉他。
“Not a soul,” Malone told him.
直到他们再次回到街上，律师才发表任何评论。当他开口说话时，声音里带着一种敬畏。
Not until they had reached the street again did the lawyer offer any ment. When he did speak, there was a kind of awe in his voice.
“如果这都不算一项成就，那我就算看到成就也不会认识。谋杀一个已经死了二十多年的人。”他停顿了一下又补充道，“而且——还杀了两次！”
“If that isn’t an achievement, then I don’t know one when I see it. To murder a man who’s been dead for more than twenty years.” He paused and added, “And what’s more—to do it twice!”