Think of England

The next morning, Da Silva did not show up when Curtis had breakfast.Holt sat there, his whole body exuding the vitality of the morning.His energetic greeting cheered Curtis somewhat; there was at least one other person in Bigholm with whom he enjoyed spending time.

They chatted aimlessly for a while before returning to sports."I said, can you still punch now? I was thinking maybe you'd be interested in a few rounds," Holt asked.

It pained him to reject the offer. "Not really. Maybe a few more years. My knuckles are still there, but still a little sore. My knees are a drag on my speed, too."

"What a pity. Your right fist is so strong."

Boxing was actually the smallest part of what Curtis lost at Jacobsdale. "Others are even more unlucky." He squeezed out a smile, "Otherwise I should have had a few rounds with you just to bet."

"That's needless to say. Otherwise, look, how about billiards? I mean if you can play." Holt blushed, "I don't mean—please forgive me. I'm stupid."

"I don't mind at all. I actually can, and I'd love to prove it to you." Curtis was born left-handed.Of course, he had been beaten out of the habit at school, but that meant Jacob Stahl hadn't robbed him of all his skills yet. "I'll probably stretch out on the estate woodland first though, just to get some fresh air."

"Can I walk with you, Mr. Curtis," came Miss Fenella Carus's voice from across the table, "I won't rush you, don't worry. Pat likes to hike, but I'd rather Take a slow walk."

"Then I'll go ahead and wait for you in the tower." Miss Morton said to her.

Curtis returned a polite smile, trying to hide his anxiety.He needed to talk to Da Silva, not socialize here, and the guy was clearly trying to catch up on the energy he had spent last night.The thing that doesn't come to the table.

He and Miss Carruth walked through the coppice and gardens that surrounded Bigholm.The trees have been planted at the beginning of the construction of the manor, so they are already growing vigorously, and the design of the trails is careful and ingenious.

"This place is really amazing." Miss Carus said, "There are endless surprises, and the landscaping must be very beautiful when the construction is completed."

"After 100 years?"

"That's right." She giggled, "Have you been to the Garden Tower[1]?"

Curtis felt that everything related to Bigholm itself was a mirage, absurd and stupid, but he still patiently let Miss Carus lead him through the garden, walked for several minutes in the new growth forest, stepped on the ground Autumn leaves finally came to a raised open space.Curtis looked up, and saw a gray stone round tower appearing at the top of the slope, occupying the entire field of vision.Its architectural style seems to be eight centuries earlier than Bigholm, and it looks like a defensive fortress, but after examining it with the eyes of a soldier, Curtis didn't see anything that needs to be guarded on this rocky slope of.

As they approached the tower he saw Miss Morton standing upright with her arms folded.The sky was gray, and for the first second he thought that the man standing beside her in the backlight was Holt, but that listless figure was nothing like Holt's solid and upright standing posture, and then he realized that it was Da Silva, His slender figure was tightly wrapped in a heavy coat.

"Whoa, looks like something's going wrong. Hi, Pat," called Miss Carus, walking a little faster up the slope. "Am I late?"

"Miss Morton and I just had the most enjoyable heart-to-heart talk," da Silva laughed.Curtis glanced at Miss Morton's stiff expression, then quickly turned his head to appreciate the scenery.

"Let's go for a good walk, Fern," said Miss Morton. "I need some air."

Curtis seized the opportunity, "Then I won't bother the two ladies. I'm afraid my knees can't bear any more, and I want to see the tower again."

"Why, I want to be alone with my muse," muttered Da Silva, "I might as well go to Piccadilly Circus."

Curtis saw a moment of genuine empathy in Miss Morton's eyes for Da Silva and his muse. "Anyway, I don't think I'll bother you long. See you later, Miss Morton, Miss Carus."

When the two ladies left, Da Silva went to open the oak door of the tower and made a gesture of invitation.Curtis was about to step in, but suddenly he hesitated, and he looked around.

Ladies wouldn't think it was a... tryst, would they?People like Curtis and Da Silva sneaked into a hidden place...

He dismissed the ridiculous idea.No one would look at him that way, even if da Silva seemed like the guy who did it, and even if other people really thought so, he would know he was innocent.

He stepped inside and glanced at the heavy wooden door Da Silva opened.Although old in style, it doesn't look like it's more weathered than the stone walls next to it.

"Is this where Sir Hubert settled here?" Curtis asked curiously when Da Silva closed the door and locked them in the stone tower.The tower was empty, save for a few heavy wooden boxes against the walls, and he was pretty sure the stained glass windows didn't quite match the building's exterior.There are several stairs leading to the mezzanine along the wall, and the oak used seems to be new.

"Of course." Da Silva stepped up the stairs first, "He insisted on turning this place into a brand new antique, which is astonishingly tacky."

And that's coming from a man in a flamboyant purple coat and bold tight pants.Curtis wondered why a man would want to stand out in such an image. "You're supposed to be an expert on that," he retorted.

"Oh -- how hurtful that is." Da Silva sounded nonchalant. "Let the beauty fix your glass heart." He pointed to the magnificent scenery of the Pennines. "That's the only advantage of this ridiculous building. Being in this mountain, you don't have to be afraid that the mountain will block your eyes."

Enough talk about architecture, Curtis thought. "Let's cut to the chase. I want to know what the situation is."

"I'm not ready to tell you yet."

Curtis took a deep breath, "Listen—"

Da Silva turned to face him, dark eyes piercing, "Who are you working for?"

"what?"

"I said, who are you working for? It's not a difficult question."

"I don't work for anyone."

Da Silva sighed exaggeratedly. "Let's not beat around the bush. You're a gentleman, not good at schemes. You're not a thug. And you're the nephew of Maurice Weizer, Chief of Intelligence at the Foreign Office. Did he send you?"

"What? No, no. How the hell do you know he's my uncle?"

Da Silva furrowed his perfect eyebrows. "Time is limited, don't be stupid. You just need to tell me, did you come here on behalf of Wiese? Because of that threatening letter or something else?"

"What threatening letter?" Curtis was completely confused now, "I don't understand what you mean. I've never heard of any threatening letter, and I don't think my uncle knows I'm here."

Da Silva's black eyes stared at his face, carefully examining it.Then he paused and said: "If you didn't come here for this...you were injured at Jacobsdale. Lafayette's business was bankrupt because of it, and Armstrong made a lot of money from it. Is that why? You Came for Jacob Stahl?"

Curtis took a step forward and clenched his fists. "If you knew something—"

"I don't know anything. I'm here for something else."

"Then why did you say we might be like-minded?"

Da Silva shrugged irritably. "I misjudged. It was one o'clock in the morning. Forgive me for not being able to see through your purpose on the spot."

Curtis glared at him. "Okay, so what is your purpose? What about the threatening letter?"

Da Silva did not answer.He observed Curtis and weighed it in his heart.When he spoke, he chose his words carefully, and the old yin and yang aura was almost inaudible. "Mr. Curtis, I need to go into the storage room and get the documents there, perhaps more urgently than you. It is very important that you do not hinder me or arouse suspicion. The two of us acting together will only double the risk. Can I convince you to teach me how to deal with the siren and then let me handle it entirely?"

"No."

"I'm as good at gathering information as you are, probably more skilled than you. Maybe you can tell me what you're looking for, and when I find it—"

"What do you know about weapons? Military sabotage?" The unquenchable rage broke out again. "What do you know about war?"

Da Silva pursed his lips tightly, "Indeed, I'm not a soldier──"

"I lost a lot of friends at Jacobsdale. They were good guys. If Armstrong was involved in the destruction of British guns—"

"Then he committed murder and treason," interrupted Da Silva. "His sentence is undoubtedly the gallows. Human life is at stake, Mr. Curtis. You'd better think twice."

"The only thing I have to think about is you. What do you know, what are you trying to do? What about the threatening letter? Have you been threatened by someone?"

"Strange to say, I wasn't the one who was intimidated." Da Silva paused thoughtfully, and when he spoke again, his words were more careful, but his tone seemed mocking. "The victim was someone else. A man with, well, unusual tastes. Someone threatened to expose his secret, put him in prison, and drain his blood until he had nothing left. I chose the only remaining path." Da Silva curled his lips, "He is not the kind of person who can face gossip and rumors calmly, but he is not that weak. He jumped into the sea at Beech Point[3] He told me about the threatening letter before."

Curtis blinked, "Why did I tell you?"

"He's my...friend." Curtis thought he should be able to guess the real meaning. "He told me he was framed in Bigholm and what he did in this house was used to completely destroy him. He also mentioned a number of other names, other guests, at least one of whom also committed suicide ...two lives, and that's just the tip of the iceberg."

“But how did that happen? People indulged in country houses all the time, and it wasn’t a big deal.” He also knew some estates that would ring a bell when tea was served in the morning, reminding guests that they had 10 minutes to get back to their beds.That's not his way of entertaining, but it's a way that many people like, and it's almost tacitly tolerated.

"Indulgence has many degrees, of course."

"I think you mean same-sex indulgence." Curtis didn't like the sly, roundabout way of speaking, mainly because he wasn't sure he could keep up. "But you can't put a person in a desperate situation with just rumors."

Da Silva laughed. "Have you checked your room carefully?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is there anything strange enough to attract you?"

"No. Why is there?" Curtis began to find Dasilva's raised eyebrows a little annoying.

"What about the layout of the room?"

Curtis opened his mouth to answer, but he stopped.Down the long corridors, the rooms are paired and far apart from each other, but complaining about their awkward distribution seems nonsense.This is a modern villa; they have a modern design of their own.In short, he didn't want to argue about such trivial matters. "what do you want to say?"

"In your room there is a large mirror hanging on the wall opposite the bed. Behind that wall is the servants' passage."

"So? Wait, you were in my room?"

"My room is just across the corridor, and the layout of your room is symmetrical. If you have ever visited me, you will find that there is also a large mirror hanging opposite the bed in my room, facing away from the servants' corridor." He gave Curtis a meaningful expression.

Curtis finally understood what he meant, and he couldn't believe it. He asked, "Do you think it's a double-sided mirror?"

"I presume there's one in every guest room. If you take the mirror in my room off the wall and remove the screws that hold it in place, you'll see a rather small aperture leading to a narrow, closed end. aisle, and the other end leads to the servants' aisle."

"You must be joking."

"No joke. I'd be interested if you could think of a reason to put a hole in the wall and cover it with a mirror, other than for a camera. Honestly, I didn't know how to get through this set of tunnels in the first place What other purpose could there be?"

"Uh... for the electrical system - something to do with the heating..."

"It's also possible. No matter how lenient you are to the master, you can only say that it was not built for intimidation at the beginning, but after it was built, the master discovered this potential function and then made the best use of it. Armstrong and his The mansion far from London, and his well-chosen guests, and, I don't know if you've noticed, some pretty servants. The young man who showed me to my room was fair-haired and particularly charming."

Curtis searched hard, "So this is a well-planned blackmail?"

"almost."

"for what?"

"Money." Da Silva said it as a matter of course.

"But the Armstrongs are already rich!"

"Do you know how much it cost to build this manor? The tower, those mahogany trees transplanted from Canada, and the electrical system and heating equipment? The glass bulbs on the lamps are specially made for the villa, and a large number of them are ordered .They have their own telephone lines, and hydroelectric generators, all custom-made for Bigholm. Only the wealth of a king can keep this house running. Speaking of spending money, Mrs. Armstrong Not much less than the notorious James. Her generosity to the art world--she was especially kind to down-and-out poets--and her finery. James's horses and bets, and his Lazy, he'd rather lose his fortune than lift a finger. Armstrong's estate seems sound enough, but he can't make ends meet. He needs another war; without it, he'll settle for the next best thing and ask for money."

Curtis frowned, "How do you know these things? How sure are you?"

"About his financial troubles? I've heard a lot of rumors. As for the threatening letters—well, I'll find out when I find out where he's hiding the evidence. Until then it's all just rumors, speculation, and reasoning. I'm sure I'm not coming to this country place in October. I'll show you my cards, Mr. Curtis. I believe Armstrong has planned a cruel deception, and his threatening letters have killed people. You again How do you see it?"

This time it was Curtis' turn to inspect the other's face.Can he trust Da Silva?From Curtis's point of view, he seemed sincere.And by heaven, he did need help.

He took a deep breath, "Lafayette visited my uncle's house about a month ago."

"Who are you referring to?"

"Sir Henry. Lafayette has been to Sir Maurice's office to see him. He was thrown out by Sir Maurice, so he came to Sir Henry. I guess that's why." He held up his injured right hand, " He hopes Sir Henry will persuade Sir Morris."

"Have you always called your elders Sir So-and-so?" Da Silva interrupted curiously.

"Yes, what's the matter?" Sir Henry Curtis and Sir Maurice Weese, his father's and mother's brothers respectively, had been responsible for bringing him up.Sir Henry had never married when Curtis was a child, and Sir Morris had been widowed for decades.Curtis never doubted their love for him, but their parenting style was not so tender.

Da Silva shrugged. "Yes, why not. Of course. Go on."

Curtis was a little displeased, he sensed a needle hidden in the other party's words, but he didn't know the reason.But da Silva had already started twitching his fingers, as if urging him, and he got back to business. "Sir Henry was in Africa and I was at home, so Lafayette told me. He was broken, and he was talking nonsense, and I didn't know the truth. To say he was purely crazy, it doesn't count. Far-fetched. Sir Morris must have thought so anyway. But Lafayette said it was Armstrong who deliberately brought down his factory, he said that Armstrong had rigged the new guns to get a share of his bankruptcy."

"Why do you think his statement is credible?"

"I don't know if it's credible. He believes that two of his henchmen, the foreman and the bookkeeper, were bought by Armstrong to set him up. He said they disappeared. I confirmed that both were reported missing by their families."

"What do you think happened to them?"

"No idea. Lafayette suspects someone is behind it, but he's not sure. Assuming the speculation is true, they may have absconded with money."

"If I instigated someone to commit a crime of high treason, I would probably kill someone afterwards." Da Silva thought thoughtfully, "But if I committed a crime of high treason myself, I would definitely run away, so no one can tell What's the truth. Where's Lafayette? Someone said he's dead?"

"Two weeks after I spoke to him, maybe a few weeks ago, he was found in the Thames. It looked like he had hit his head and fell into the river."

"Head bump," Da Silva repeated.

"Yes."

"Did anyone ever suspect that someone else bumped his head?"

After reading the autopsy report, Curtis had suspected it.He felt a burst of relief that Da Silva thought the same, a big sigh of relief. "Can't see it. It took days for the body to be brought ashore. The coroner ruled it was an accident."

"Just as he was about to reveal something, he sank to the bottom of the river with a bloody head." Da Silva made a grimace. "So you came here to find out how true the words you heard that day are whether they were the angry words of a mentally disturbed person, or the truth discovered by a man who was framed and even murdered. Alright , now that we know each other's positions, have we reached a consensus?"

On the face of it, the idea is not appealing.But it was impossible for Curtis to find any clues alone; on the contrary, Da Silva seemed to have a clear goal, at least he would pick the lock.Curtis needed to keep those doors open, he needed to know if a treasonous conspiracy had cost him his friends, his career, his ambition in life, or if it was just a joke of fate.In fact, he still needs to know whether da Silva's inferences about the mirror in the room and the deaths are correct, because if the answer is yes, Armstrong should be whipped regardless of whether he is guilty or not in other respects, And Curtis would make sure he was punished.

Curtis is not a scheming person.As far as the current situation is concerned, someone like Da Silva can come in handy.Moreover, although he already knew that Da Silva's feminine appearance hides a keen insight and a clever mind, now it seems that he not only has a lot of courage, but even has a trace of noble sentiment.Curtis felt uneasy when he thought that he might have held a harsh prejudice against him before.

"That's right. We've reached a consensus."

Without thinking twice, he stretched out his right hand.Da Silva held it, showing no discomfort from the deformity in his hand.The strength he held on Curtis's scar was very light, but it was definitely not as weak as when they first shook hands.

"Okay, let's move on," Dasilva said, "what tools are needed to deal with the siren in the library?"

"Pliers and wires. There are plenty in the villa. Armstrong showed me around the workshop yesterday. Leave this to me."

"Then let's make an agreement like this. See you in the library at one o'clock in the morning? I'm looking forward to this tryst."

[1] Folly, the decorative buildings that often appear in Western gardens here are mostly pseudo-Gothic style towers, pseudo-Roman temples, etc. This is a pun with the following "absurd and stupid", and the original text here is also folly, referring to Fools.

[2] A place in central London that used to be a famous male prostitution place.

[3] Beachy Head is located on the shore of the English Channel. It is a coastal cliff composed of chalk rocks and is a famous tourist attraction in the UK.