Chapter 48

THE second of the two meetings referred to in the last chapter, occurred about a week after the first. I had again left my boat at the wharf below Bridge; the time was an hour earlier in the afternoon; and, undecided where to dine, I had strolled up into Cheapside, and was strolling along it, surely the most unsettled person in all the busy concourse, when a large hand was laid upon my shoulder, by some one overtaking me. It was Mr Jaggers's hand, and he passed it through my arm.
`As we are going in the same direction, Pip, we may walk together. Where are you bound for?'

`For the Temple, I think,' said I.

`Don't you know?' said Mr Jaggers.

`Well,' I returned, glad for once to get the better of him in cross-examination, `I do not know, for I have not made up mn mind.'

`You are going to dine?' said Mr Jaggers. `You don't mind admitting that, I suppose?'

`No,' I returned, `I don't mind admitting that.'

`And are not engaged?'

`I don't mind admitting also, that I am not engaged.'

`Then,' said Mr Jaggers, `come and dine with me.'

I was going to excuse myself, when he added, `Wemmick's coming.' So, I changed my excuse into an acceptance - the few words I had uttered, serving for the beginning of either - and we went along Cheapside and slanted off to Little Britain, while the lights were springing up brilliantly in the shop windows, and the street lamp-lighters, scarcely finding ground enough to plant their ladders on in the midst of the afternoon's bustle, were skipping up and down and running in and out, opening more red eyes in the gathering fog than my rushlight tower at the Hummums had opened white eyes in the ghostly wall.

At the office in Little Britain there was the usual letter-writing, hand-washing, candle-snuffing, and safe-locking, that closed the business of the day. As I stood idle by Mr Jagger's fire, its rising and falling flame made the two casts on the shelf look as if they were playing a diabolical game at bo-peep with me; while the pair of coarse fat office candles that dimly lighted Mr Jaggers as he wrote in a corner, were decorated with dirty winding-sheets, as if in remembrance of a host of hanged clients.

We went to Gerrard-street, all three together, in a hackneycoach: and as soon as we got there, dinner was served. Although I should not have thought of making, in that place, the most distant reference by so much as a look to Wemmick's Walworth sentiments, yet I should have had no objection to catching his eye now and then in a friendly way. But it was not to be done. He turned his eyes on Mr Jaggers whenever he raised them from the table, and was as dry and distant to me as if there were twin Wemmicks and this was the wrong one.

`Did you send that note of Miss Havisham's to Mr Pip, Wemmick?' Mr Jaggers asked, soon after we began dinner.

`No, sir,' returned Wemmick; `it was going by post, when you brought Mr Pip into the office. Here it is.' He handed it to his principal, instead of to me.

`It's a note of two lines, Pip,' said Mr Jaggers, handing it on, `sent up to me by Miss Havisham, on account of her not being sure of your address. She tells me that she wants to see you on a little matter of business you mentioned to her. You'll go down?'

`Yes,' said I, casting my eyes over the note, which was exactly in those terms.

`When do you think of going down?'

`I have an impending engagement,' said I, glancing at Wemmick, who was putting fish into the post-office, `that renders me rather uncertain of my time. At once, I think.'

`If Mr Pip has the intention of going at once,' said Wemmick to Mr Jaggers, `he needn't write an answer, you know.'

Receiving this as an intimation that it was best not to delay, I settled that I would go to-morrow, and said so. Wemmick drank a glass of wine and looked with a grimly satisfied air at Mr Jaggers, but not at me.

`So, Pip! Our friend the Spider,' said Mr Jaggers, `has played his cards. He has won the pool.'

It was as much as I could do to assent.

`Hah! He is a promising fellow - in his way - but he may not have it all his own way. The stronger will win in the end, but the stronger has to be found out first. If he should turn to, and beat her--'

`Surely,' I interrupted, with a burning face and heart, `you do not seriously think that he is scoundrel enough for that, Mr Jaggers?'

`I didn't say so, Pip. I am putting a case. If he should turn to and beat her, he may possibly get the strength on his side; if it should be a question of intellect, he certainly will not. It would be chance work to give an opinion how a fellow of that sort will turn out in such circumstances, because it's a toss-up between two results.'

`May I ask what they are?'

`A fellow like our friend the Spider,' answered Mr Jaggers, `either beats, or cringes. He may cringe and growl, or cringe and not growl; but he either beats or cringes. Ask Wemmick his opinion.'

`Either beats or cringes,' said Wemmick, not at all addressing himself to me.

`So, here's to Mrs Bentley Drummle,' said Mr Jaggers, taking a decanter of choicer wine from his dumb-waiter, and filing for each of us and for himself, `and may the question of supremacy be settled to the lady's satisfaction! To the satisfaction of the lady and the gentleman, it never will be. Now, Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, how slow you are to-day!'

She was at his elbow when he addressed her, putting a dish upon the table. As she withdrew her hands from it, she fell back a step or two, nervously muttering some excuse. And a certain action of her fingers as she spoke arrested my attention.

`What's the matter?' said Mr Jaggers.

`Nothing. Only the subject we were speaking of,' said I, `was rather painful to me.'

The action of her fingers was like the action of knitting. She stood looking at her master, not understanding whether she was free to go, or whether he had more to say to her and would call her back if she did go. Her look was very intent. Surely, I had seen exactly such eyes and such hands, on a memorable occasion very lately!

He dismissed her, and she glided out of the room. But she remained before me, as plainly as if she were still there. I looked at those hands, I looked at those eyes, I looked at that flowing hair; and I compared them with other hands, other eyes, other hair, that I knew of, and with what those might be after twenty years of a brutal husband and a stormy life. I looked again at those hands and eyes of the housekeeper, and thought of the inexplicable feeling that had come over me when I last walked - not alone - in the ruined garden, and through the deserted brewery. I thought how the same feeling had come back when I saw a face looking at me, and a hand waving to me, from a stage-coach window; and how it had come back again and had flashed about me like Lightning, when I had passed in a carriage - not alone - through a sudden glare of light in a dark street. I thought how one link of association had helped that identification in the theatre, and how such a link, wanting before, had been riveted for me now, when I had passed by a chance swift from Estella's name to the fingers with their knitting action, and the attentive eyes. And I felt absolutely certain that this woman was Estella's mother.

Mr Jaggers had seen me with Estella, and was not likely to have missed the sentiments I had been at no pains to conceal. He nodded when I said the subject was painful to me, clapped me on the back, put round the wine again, and went on with his dinner.

Only twice more, did the housekeeper reappear, and then her stay in the room was very short, and Mr Jaggers was sharp with her. But her hands were Estella's hands, and her eyes were Estella's eyes, and if she had reappeared a hundred times I could have been neither more sure nor less sure that my conviction was the truth.

It was a dull evening, for Wemmick drew his wine when it came round, quite as a matter of business - just as he might have drawn his salary when that came round - and with his eyes on his chief, sat in a state of perpetual readiness for cross-examination. As to the quantity of wine, his post-office was as indifferent and ready as and other post-office for its quantity of letters. From my point of view, he was the wrong twin all the time, and only externally like the Wemmick of Walworth.

We took our leave early, and left together. Even when we were groping among Mr Jaggers's stock of boots for our hats, I felt that the right twin was on his way back; and we had not gone half a dozen yards down Gerrard-street in the Walworth direction before I found that I was walking arm-in-arm with the right twin, and that the wrong twin had evaporated into the evening air.

`Well!' said Wemmick, `that's over! He's a wonderful man, without his living likeness; but I feel that I have to screw myself up when I dine with him - and I dine more comfortably unscrewed.'

I felt that this was a good statement of the case, and told him so.

`Wouldn't say it to anybody but yourself,' he answered. `I know that what is said between you and me, goes no further.'

I asked him if he had ever seen Miss Havisham's adopted daughter, Mrs Bentley Drummle? He said no. To avoid being too abrupt, I then spoke of the Aged, and of Miss Skiffins. He looked rather sly when I mentioned Miss Skiffins, and stopped in the street to blow his nose, with a roll of the head and a flourish not quite free from latent boastfulness.

`Wemmick,' said I, `do you remember telling me before I first went to Mr Jaggers's private house, to notice that housekeeper?'

`Did I?' he replied. `Ah, I dare say I did. Deuce take me,' he added, suddenly, `I know I did. I find I am not quite unscrewed yet.'

`A wild beast tamed, you called her.'

`And what do you call her?'

`The same. How did Mr Jaggers tame her, Wemmick?'

`That's his secret. She has been with him many a long year.'

`I wish you would tell me her story. I feel a particular interest in being acquainted with it. You know that what is said between you and me goes no further.'

`Well!' Wemmick replied, `I don't know her story - that is, I don't know all of it. But what I do know, I'll tell you. We are in our private and personal capacities, of course.'

`Of course.'

`A score or so of years ago, that woman was tried at the Old Bailey for murder, and was acquitted. She was a very handsome young woman, and I believe had some gipsy blood in her. Anyhow, i was hot enough when it was up, as you may suppose.'

`But she was acquitted.'

`Mr Jaggers was for her,' pursued Wemmick, with a look full of meaning, `and worked the case in a way quite astonishing. It was a desperate case, and it was comparatively early days with him then, and he worked it to general admiration; in fact, it may almost be said to have made him. He worked it himself at the police-office, day after day for many days, contending against even a committal; and at the trial where he couldn't work it himself, sat under Counsel, and - every one knew - put in all the salt and pepper. The murdered person was a woman; a woman, a good ten years older, very much larger, and very much stronger. It was a case of jealousy. They both led tramping lives, and this woman in Gerrard-street here had been married very young, over the broomstick (as we say), to a tramping man, and was a perfect fury in point of jealousy. The murdered woman - more a match for the man, certainly, in point of years - was found dead in a barn near Hounslow Heath. There had been a violent struggle, perhaps a fight. She was bruised and scratched and torn, and had been held by the throat at last and choked. Now, there was no reasonable evidence to implicate any person but this woman, and, on the improbabilities of her having been able to do it, Mr Jaggers principally rested his case. You may be sure,' said Wemmick, touching me on the sleeve, `that he never dwelt upon the strength of her hands then, though he sometimes does now.'

I had told Wemmick of his showing us her wrists, that day of the dinner party.

`Well, sir!' Wemmick went on; `it happened - happened, don't you see? - that this woman was so very artfully dressed from the time of her apprehension, that she looked much slighter than she really was; in particular, her sleeves are always remembered to have been so skilfully contrived that her arms had quite a delicate look. She had only a bruise or two about her - nothing for a tramp - but the backs of her hands were lacerated, and the question was, was it with finger-nails? Now, Mr Jaggers showed that she had struggled through a great lot of brambles which were not as high as her face; but which she could not have got through and kept her hands out of; and bits of those brambles were actually found in her skin and put in evidence, as well as the fact that the brambles in question were found on examination to have been broken through, and to have little shreds of her dress and little spots of blood upon them here and there. But the boldest point he made, was this. It was attempted to be set up in proof of her jealousy, that she was under strong suspicion of having, at about the time of the murder, frantically destroyed her child by this man - some three years old - to revenge herself upon him. Mr Jaggers worked that, in this way. "We say these are not marks of finger-nails, but marks of brambles, and we show you the brambles. You say they are marks of finger-nails, and you set up the hypothesis that she destroyed her child. You must accept all consequences of that hypothesis. For anything we know, she may have destroyed her child, and the child in clinging to her may have scratched her hands. What then? You are not trying her for the murder of her child; why don't you? As to this case, if you will have scratches, we say that, for anything we know, you may have accounted for them, assuming for the sake of argument that you have not invented them?" To sum up, sir,' said Wemmick, `Mr Jaggers was altogether too many for the Jury, and they gave in.'

`Has she been in his service ever since?'

`Yes; but not only that,' said Wemmick. `She went into his service immediately after her acquittal, tamed as she is now. She has since been taught one thing and another in the way of her duties, but she was tamed from the beginning.'

`Do you remember the sex of the child?'

`Said to have been a girl.'

`You have nothing more to say to me to-night?'

`Nothing. I got your letter and destroyed it. Nothing.'

We exchanged a cordial Good Night, and I went home, with new matter for my thoughts, though with no relief from the old.

 

在上一章中我提到曾两次遇到熟人，这第二次大约是在遇到沃甫赛先生一个星期后的事。我还是在伦敦桥下的码头下船，也还是在下午，但比第一次要早一个小时。当时我还没有决定到哪儿去吃饭，于是便逛到了齐普塞德，沿着街东看西看。这里人来人往，熙熙攘攘，好不热闹，而我却是一个无处着落的人。正巧，这时有一只大手落在我的肩头，是从后面追上来的，一看就知是贾格斯先生的手。他然后挽住我的手臂，“皮普，我们又走到同一条道上来了，我们一起走吧。你正准备上哪儿去？”

“我看是到寺区去吧。”我说道。

“你不晓得你到哪去？”贾格斯先生问道。

“是啊，”我答道，很高兴这一次在他洁难我时，我却占了上风，“我是不晓得，因为我还没有作出决定呢。”

“你是不是去吃饭？”贾格斯先生问道，“我想你不会不承认这个事实吧？”

“不会不承认的，”我答道，“我是想去吃饭。”

“没有约什么人吧？”

“这一点我也承认，我没有约别人。”

“那么，”贾格斯先生说道，“你就和我一起去吃饭吧。”

我正准备推却，请他原谅，他又说道：“温米克也要来一起吃饭的。”所以我立刻掉转话头说愿意接受，虽然已经出口了前半句话的几个字，不过无妨，这对推却和接受都是一样的。我们沿着齐普塞德一直向前，然后斜转人小不列颠街。这时店铺橱窗里都射出了明亮而又耀眼的灯光，傍晚的街上人流拥挤，连在街上点灯的人都找不到一处可以放梯子的地方，只有上蹦下跳，奔进跑出，于是在雾气氵蒙氵蒙之中出现了许多许多红眼睛，比上次我在黑蒙斯旅社的那盏灯草芯蜡烛灯高高映照在阴森森的墙上的上百只眼睛还要多。

在小不列颠街上的律师事务所里，因为正要下班，所以大家都在准备着，有的在写信，有的在洗手，有的在熄灯，还有的在锁保险柜。我懒懒地站在贾格斯先生办公室的火炉边，那忽明忽暗的火焰照着架子上的两只头像，仿佛这两个家伙正同我玩躲猫猫这可恶的游戏。贾格斯先生正坐在角落里，不知道在写什么东西。事务所里的一对又粗糙又肥大的蜡烛发出幽暗的光，蜡烛上还包着肮脏不堪的裹尸布一样的纸，真好像是对他的那一群已上了绞刑架的客户的纪念。

我们三人乘上出租马车向着吉拉德街驶去，不一会儿便抵达目的地，刚坐好饭菜便送上来了。在这种场合，我非常清楚我不能和温米克作伍尔华斯的情感交流，连一个眼色也不能丢，但是我希望温米克能不时看上我一眼，表示出一点友谊。然而，就连这一点也无法办到。每逢他从桌子上抬起眼睛时，总是向贾格斯先生那里望去，对我则表现出冷淡，表现出疏远，仿佛温米克还有一个双胞胎兄弟，今天来的不是温米克本人，而是他的孪生兄弟。

我们刚开始用餐，贾格斯先生便问道：“温米克，你是不是已经把郝维仙小姐的那封信寄给皮普先生了？”

“还没有，先生，”温米克答道，“我正打算把它寄出时，你和皮普先生来到了事务所。信在这里。”他把信递给了他的上司，而没有交给我。

“皮普，”贾格斯先生把信递给我，说道，“这是郝维仙小姐写的一封短信，因为她弄不清你的确切住址，所以寄给我转交。她告诉我她想见见你，说你曾经向她提过一件小事。你准备去她那里一次吗？”

“我要去的。”我说道，把眼睛转向这封短信，匆忙地看了一下，上面写的确是贾格斯先生所说的意思。

“你准备什么时候到她那里去呢？”

“我这个阶段和别人有约，”我看了温米克一眼，说道，他这时正在把一块鱼肉送进他那邮筒式的大嘴，“所以去的时间尚不能确定。我想，很快就会去的。”

“如果皮普先生打算很快就去，”温米克对贾格斯先生说道，“你看，他就没有必要写回信了。”

一接到这个信息我就知道我该越快去越好，不能耽搁，于是便说我明天就去。温米克喝了一杯酒，面色中反映出他的满意，在满意中又带着严酷，他用这个眼神望着贾格斯先生，却没有望着我。

“皮普！我们的那个叫蜘蛛的朋友，”贾格斯先生对我说道，“出了手好牌，这一局他赢了。”

对于他说的我只有同意。

“嘿！这倒是个有前途的家伙，他自有办法，不过不见得永远都行。鹿死谁手尚难预料，强中自有强中手，谁最有本领还未见分晓。万一他一变而动手打她——”

我这时从外到内都气得直冒火，打断了他的话头，“贾格斯先生，你当然不是真的认为他会卑鄙下流到这个程度吧？”

“皮普，我没那么说，我只是提出一种可能性。如果他真的一反常性而动手打她，当然在力气方面是他大，如果讲到运用心计，他明显地不行。像他这种人在如此情况下遇到的如此之事，其结果会是什么呢？自然，两种结果的机会相等，都有可能。”

“我可以问两种机会均等的结果是什么吗？”

“像我们的朋友蜘蛛这样的人，”贾格斯先生答道，“要么是拳打脚踢，要么是满脸陪笑畏缩奉承。他也许畏缩奉承时会发牢骚鸣不平，也许就是畏缩奉承而不发牢骚。总之，他要么拳打脚踢，要么奉承陪笑。究竟怎么样，你可以听听温米克的高见。”

“要么拳打脚踢，要么奉承陪笑。”温米克重复着说，根本就没有看我。

“来，我们为本特莱·德鲁莫尔夫人干杯，”贾格斯先生从他的回转式食品架上取下一瓶精制酒，给我们每人斟了一满杯，也给他自己斟满一杯，说道，“但愿究竟是谁胜的问题处理得使夫人满意！要使夫人和先生都满意，绝对不可能。茉莉，茉莉，茉莉，茉莉，你今天怎么这样慢啊！”

在他呼唤她时，她正在他的旁边，为餐桌上一道菜。菜上好后她缩回双手，向后退了一两步，有些紧张地嘟哝了几个词表示歉意。她说话时手指做了个动作，这引起了我的注意。

“你怎么啦？”贾格斯先生问道。

“没有什么，”我答道，“只不过谈论起这件事使我有点儿痛苦。”

她这手指的动作好像是在编织什么东西。她站在那里望着她的主人，不知道自己该不该走或者走后是不是又会被叫回来，主人有更多的话要对自己讲。可不是，这一双眼睛，还有这一双手，不是最近我曾见过的吗！在我的记忆中是多么清楚！

他叫她下去，她便悄然地从房中退出。但是她好像仍然站在我眼前，那么逼真，一点不假。我看着她的双手，我看着她的双眼，我看着她那飘起的秀发；我把它们和另外一双手比较，和另外一双眼睛比较，和另外的一头飘起的秀发比较，心想，如果那个人嫁了一个野性未改的丈夫，经历二十年的艰辛生活，会不会也成为这个样子呢。我又望了一下这位管家婆的一双手、一对眼睛，心头涌起一阵无可名状的感觉，想起了我最近一次在那座荒芜了的花园、在废弃了的制酒作坊散步时（当然不是孤独的散步）心头所涌起的情感。我又想起，有一次从马车的窗户里伸出一只手向我挥舞，探出一张面孔望着我时，我当时心头也涌起过同样的情感。我又想起，我曾经乘坐马车（当然不是孤独地乘坐），在经过一条黑暗的街道时，突然遇上了耀眼的灯光，在我脑子里这同样的感觉又一闪而过，就像闪过的雷电一般。我想起我在戏院中时，由于一时的联想却忽略了康佩生的在场；以往我不善于联想，而现在却对联想有了牢固的习惯，埃斯苔娜的名字在我脑中一闪而过时，我便联想到那手指编织时的动作，那双专心一致的眼睛。我感到我捕捉到了一个绝对可靠的情况，这个管家婆就是埃斯苔娜的母亲。

贾格斯先生曾经见到过我和埃斯苔娜在一起的情形，他不见得看不出我这未加掩饰的纷乱情感。当我说到这件事使我十分痛苦时，他拍了一下我的背，又给我们斟了一次酒，然后便自顾吃起他的晚饭了。

后来这位管家婆只又来过两次，而且在房里逗留的时间很短，再加上贾格斯先生对她又总是那么声色俱厉。但不管怎样，她的那双手就是埃斯苔娜的手，她的那双眼睛就是埃斯苔娜的眼睛。我的判断是肯定的，即使她再来一百次，我对此确信的程度也不会再增加，更不会减少。

这是一个很沉闷的夜晚，温米克一见酒杯斟满酒，就拿起酒杯像例行公事一样一饮而尽，这就和一发薪水他就把钱往口袋里一塞一样。他坐在那里，两个眼睛不断地望着东家，永远是一副准备被盘问的架势。至于他的酒量嘛，他的那张邮筒般的嘴和邮局的邮筒口也一样，只要向下投信，是来者不拒的。在我看来，今天在这里的肯定是温米克的双胞胎兄弟，尽管从外表上看，他和伍尔华斯的温米克长得一模一样。

我和温米克早早地告了辞，两人一起离开。我们在贾格斯先生的鞋堆里摸索着帽子时，我就预感到真正的温米克就要来了。我们顺着吉拉德街朝着伍尔华斯的方向走去，只不过才走了几码远，我就发现我已经用手臂挽着真正的温米克的胳膊了，而那个假的双胞胎兄弟已消失在夜晚的空气中。

温米克说道：“唔！一切都结束了！他可是个奇怪的人，他这个样子的人天下无双。我只要同他一起吃饭，就不得不把我的嘴巴拧紧；不过呢，事实上只有放松我才感到舒服。”

我感到他这话说得真是一针见血，我便把我的看法告诉他。

“这话除了你之外是不能和别人说的，”他答道，“我知道你我之间所说的话不会再让别人晓得。”

我问他是不是见到过郝维仙小姐的养女，也就是本特莱·德鲁莫尔夫人。他说没有见到过。为了话说得不那么突然，我先和他谈到老人家，又谈到司琪芬小姐。他一听我谈到司琪芬小姐，脸上便表现出一些狡猾的神色，并且停在街头擤起他的鼻子，那个摇头晃脑的样子和拿着手帕在空中挥舞的动作，就透出了他心里的高兴。

“温米克，”我说道，“你记不记得在我第一次去贾格斯先生家之前，你告诉我要注意他家的管家婆？”

“我说过吗？”他说道，“哦，我想起来是有这件事。真糟糕，”他脸色阴沉地补充道，“我想我是说过。我觉得我的嘴巴还没有完全拧松呢。”

“你把她叫做一头被驯服的野兽，有这回事吗？”

“那么你把她叫做什么呢？”

“和你叫的一样。温米克，贾格斯先生是怎样驯服她的呢？”

“那是他的秘密了。她待在他那里已经有许多年了。”

“我很想知道她的身世，希望你告诉我。我对她的身世特别感兴趣。你知道，我们两个人之间谈的话不会再让别人晓得的。”

“好吧！”温米克答道，“我并不知道她的身世，也就是说我不了解她的全部情况，但我可以告诉你我所知道的。当然，我们谈的都是以私人的身份和个人的关系为出发点的。”

“那是自然的。”

“约摸二十年前，这位妇女曾在伦敦中央刑事法院受审，犯的是谋杀罪，后来又无罪释放了。那时她可是个生得绝美的女人，还相当年轻。我看她身上有吉卜赛的血统，只要她一发脾气，就了不得了，你是可以想象得到的。”

“可是她无罪释放了。”

“贾格斯先生为她辩护，”温米克继续说着，脸上显现出一副意味深长的神色，“他使出惊人的辩护能力为此案出力。这本来是一件无可挽回的案子，贾格斯先生当时在各方面还比较嫩，可是这个案件他处理得人人惊服，事实上，可以说是这件案子造就了他的名声。他办这个案子时，天天往警察局跑，一连去了许多天，他的目的就是为她开脱每一个罪名。到了开庭的时候，因为他是个小律师，没有资格到庭辩护，便做辩护律师的下手，一件一件事为他想办法，这是大家都知道的事。被谋杀的也是一名妇女，不过这一个妇女比她要大十岁，比她长得高大，比她长得强壮。这是一件由争风吃醋而引起的案子。这两个女人都过着浪荡的生活，住在吉拉德街的这位茉莉年纪轻轻就嫁了人，用我们今天的话说，是和一个浪荡男人做了露水夫妻，她又有着强烈的妒忌心理，所以事情发生了。那个被杀害的妇女从岁数上看，说实在的，倒是更配得上那个浪荡男人，她的尸体是在洪斯鲁荒地的一个牛棚里发现的，显然，死前曾经有过一场你死我活的搏斗。死者全身到处被抓破，东一块伤西一块肿，最后是被卡住喉管窒息而死的。从当时的证据上看，除了茉莉外，是没有理由怀疑别人的。贾格斯先生为此案辩护的主要出发点就是，茉莉不可能掐死那个女人。不过你很清楚，”温米克碰了一下我的袖子，说道，“贾格斯先生现在不时也会说她两只手的力气很大，但那个时候他是不会这么说的。”

我曾告诉过温米克，有一次我们在贾格斯先生家吃晚餐，他把她的手腕按在桌子上给我们看过。

“于是，先生！”温米克又继续说下去，“正巧，可不是，你看不是正巧吗？就从她被逮捕的那一天开始，茉莉便在她的衣服上大用其功，不仅花样翻新，而且看上去比本来的样子苗条多了；特别是她的衣服袖管剪裁得那么精巧，看上去她的两条臂膀纤细得弱不禁风一样，直到今天人们都还记着这点呢。她身上有一两处伤痕，但这点伤痕对于一个浪荡女人来说又算得什么；不过她的手背上被什么弄破了，所以问题是手背上的伤口是否是被指甲划破的呢？而贾格斯先生告诉大家，她的手是在经过一大片丛密的荆棘地时被荆棘刺破的，荆棘长得不算太高，所以没有刺伤她的脸，但也不算太矮，所以她的手无法避免受到伤害，后来在她的皮肤上又确实发现了荆棘的小刺，这就是证据。后来他们又到荆棘地作现场调查，发现那片荆棘地的确被人踏得乱七八糟，还在几处地方发现从她衣服上扯下的小碎片，和刺破她的肉留下的血迹。但是，他最大胆的论点却是下面这件事。当时法庭提出要证明她妒忌成性的心理，她还有一项很重要的嫌疑。那就是在谋杀案发生的同时，她为了向那个浪荡男人报复，就亲手杀害了她和他所生的一个孩子，当时也才只有三岁。贾格斯先生是用下面的话为她辩护的：‘我们判定她的这些伤痕不是被指甲抓破的，而是被荆棘划破的，我们也到荆棘地作了调查，证明了这一点。可是你们偏说这是被指甲抓伤的，还提出了新的假设，咬定她亲手杀死了自己的孩子。那么你们一定得承认由这个假设导出的一切推论。那就是说，她亲手杀害她的孩子时，因为孩子紧紧抓住她，从而抓伤了她的双手。然后又怎么样呢？你们不是在审判她的谋杀亲子罪，那么，为什么你们不审一下呢？至于这个案件，你们如此抓住这些伤痕不放，我们可以认为，你们的目的是要找到一些解释，以证明这些伤痕不是你们捏造出来的，不是这样吗？’简单地说吧，老弟，”温米克继续说道，“贾格斯先生的言辞说得陪审团哑口无言，只有屈服认输。”

“那以后她就在他家中当佣人了吗？”

“是这样，不过不仅仅如此，”温米克说道，“事实上她刚一无罪释放，就到了他家中，而且就像现在一样的驯服了。她该尽的职责倒是一件一件地后来学会的，但她从一开始就被驯服了。”

“她的那个孩子是男还是女呢？”

“据说是一个女孩。”

“今晚你没有更多的东西要告诉我吗？”

“没有了。我接到你的信，读完后便毁掉了。其他就没有什么了。”

我们交换了一个亲切的晚安后，我便向回家的路上走去。旧的忧思尚未消去，新的愁虑又上心来。