黑彼得（9）

“It would have been an easier task a week ago,” said he. “But even now my visit may not be entirely fruitless. Watson, if you can spare the time I should be very glad of your company. If you will call a four-wheeler, Hopkins, we shall be ready to start for Forest Row in a quarter of an hour.”

Alighting at the small wayside station, we drove for some miles through the remains of widespread woods, which were once part of that great forest which for so long held the Saxon invaders at bay—the impenetrable “weald,” for sixty years the bulwark of Britain. Vast sections of it have been cleared, for this is the seat of the first iron-works of the country, and the trees have been felled to smelt the ore. Now the richer fields of the North have absorbed the trade, and nothing save these ravaged groves and great scars in the earth show the work of the past. Here in a clearing upon the green slope of a hill stood a long, low stone house, approached by a curving drive running through the fields. Nearer the road, and surrounded on three sides by bushes, was a small outhouse, one window and the door facing in our direction. It was the scene of the murder.

Stanley Hopkins led us first to the house, where he introduced us to a haggard, grey-haired woman, the widow of the murdered man, whose gaunt and deep-lined face, with the furtive look of terror in the depths of her red-rimmed eyes, told of the years of hardship and ill-usage which she had endured. With her was her daughter, a pale, fair-haired girl, whose eyes blazed defiantly at us as she told us that she was glad that her father was dead, and that she blessed the hand which had struck him down. It was a terrible household that Black Peter Carey had made for himself, and it was with a sense of relief that we found ourselves in the sunlight again and making our way along a path which had been worn across the fields by the feet of the dead man.

The outhouse was the simplest of dwellings, wooden-walled, shingle-roofed, one window beside the door and one on the farther side. Stanley Hopkins drew the key from his pocket, and had stooped to the lock, when he paused with a look of attention and surprise upon his face.

他说：“一周以前这本来是件容易的工作。现在去，可能还不会完全无补于事。华生，如果你能腾出时间，我很高兴你同我一起去。霍普金，请你叫一辆四轮马车，我们过一刻钟就出发到弗里斯特住宅区。”

在路旁的一个小驿站我们下了马车，匆忙穿过一片广阔森林的遗址。这片森林有几英里长，是阻挡了萨克逊侵略者有六十年之久的大森林——不可入侵的"森林地带"，英国的堡垒——的一部分。森林的大部分已经砍伐，因为这里是英国第一个钢铁厂的厂址，伐树去炼铁。现在钢铁厂已经移到北部的矿产丰富的地区，只有这些荒凉的小树林和坑洼不平的地面还能表明这里有过钢铁厂。在一座小山绿色斜坡上的空旷处，有一所长而低的石头房屋，从那里延伸出一条小道弯弯曲曲地穿过田野。靠近大路有一间小屋，三面被矮树丛围着，屋门和一扇窗户对着我们。这就是谋杀的现场。

斯坦莱·霍普金领着我们走进这所房子，把我们介绍给一位面容憔悴、灰色头发的妇女——被害人的孀妇。她的面孔削瘦，皱纹很深，眼圈发红，眼睛的深处仍然潜藏着恐惧的目光，这说明她长年经受苦难和虐一待。陪着她的是她的女儿，一个面色苍白、头发金黄的姑一娘一。谈到她父亲的死，她很高兴，当她说到要祝福那个把她父亲戳死的人的时候，她的眼睛闪耀着反抗的光芒。黑彼得把他的家弄得很不象样子，我们走出他家来到日光下时，有重新获释之感。然后我们沿着一条穿过田野的小路向前走，这条小路是死者用脚踩出来的。

这小房是间最简单的住房，四周是木板墙，房顶也是木头的，靠门有个窗户，另一个窗户在尽头的地方。斯坦莱·霍普金从口袋里拿出钥匙，弯身对准锁孔，忽然他停顿了一下，脸上显出又惊异又全神贯注的样子。