Think of England

He also soon became in a relationship with Miss Carus, calling each other "Fern" and "Archie".As he explained at the breakfast table that his knee was recovering well, she chatted casually about Pat's plans for the hike, and how much easier it really was to have an ally.Her posture was still not out of the ordinary, but she began to act close to Curtis, as if she wanted to have some fun now that her restrained female companion was not there.

James Armstrong seemed a little absent-minded.He frowned at the table, clearly distracted by the absence of Daniel, Holt, and Pat Morton.Not long after they had finished their breakfast, Fern was proposing a walk in the garden when he approached Curtis.

"I said, have you seen Holt?"

"I haven't seen him today, he slept really late." Curtis said deliberately in a dissatisfied tone.

"He's not in his room."

"Oh, then he must have left early in the morning."

"Everyone seems to be out early today," interposed Fern. "Pat's gone hiking; aren't you up early, Archie?"

"About six, I think. I didn't see Holt, though."

"Six o'clock!" Fern exclaimed softly. "I'm still in my beauty sleep."

"It can be seen that you must have had a lot of beauty sleep." Curtis felt that he should respond flirtatiously at this time, but he soon realized that he was really not very good at it.

Armstrong didn't say a few words about this superficial flattery, and he didn't seem to notice that the woman he had been relentlessly pursuing these days had been attracted by Curtis. "He should be here," he said urgently. "Didn't you hear anything last night?"

"Last night? When do you mean?"

"Any time."

Curtis shook his head. "I went to bed early last night, about ten o'clock. I'm afraid I slept soundly. You don't think Holt is out at night, do you? What's he doing in the middle of the night?"

Armstrong looked uneasy, and now Curtis was sure that the other party knew what Holt was doing.He left Daniel in the cave, knowing that Holt would go back to take care of it at night.

"I don't know," said Armstrong, "maybe he heard something, or, or—"

"Is there a thief?" cried Fern. "You don't think he's got a thief?"

"How is it possible, you are so stupid—I mean, you are too simple." Armstrong hid his slip of the tongue in a panic.Fern's pretty features maintained an icy politeness, and she looked at him, making it clear that she already knew what he was going to say.

"Glad to hear that, Mr. Armstrong. Come on, Archie, and keep me company."

Curtis asked her to hold his arm, and she stepped out of the hall as inviolably as a widowed duchess.Armstrong made no attempt to keep up.

When they were in the garden, once they were sure no one was around, Fern looked up at him with a smile in her violet eyes. "Look! He can't pretend to be educated anymore, can he?"

"He's starting to worry. Don't be careless, Carus—I mean, Fern. I wonder how much Pat explained to you?"

"She's said all I need to know. I think that's all." Fern answered with a gleam of confidence. "So Mr. Holt won't be coming back?"

"He—yes. He's not coming back."

"Very good." He looked down in surprise, and she made a grimace. "He's a nuisance. Always laughing at everyone behind their backs. Outwardly polite to Sir Hubert, but inwardly despising him."

"Do you think so? I didn't notice."

"Yeah. I don't like people who secretly make fun of other people."

"Da Silva is like this sometimes." Curtis was a little embarrassed.

"Is that what you think?" Fern mused, "I don't think so. I think Mr. Da Silva does make fun of everyone, but he expects other people to laugh at it too, don't you think?" ?”

Curtis thought for a while, and then admitted, "That's right. You're really observant."

Fern laughed. "But Mr. Holt isn't like that. He doesn't want people to get his jokes, and if they do they won't find it funny, they'll just hurt."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Oh, how should I put it?" Fern stepped forward, hands behind her back. "I don't care for the frivolous flirtations, you know. Mr. Da Silva likes to talk the best, but he has no intentions, and it's funny to listen to. But Mr. Holt is a terrible flirt. Said in public It’s nothing, but in private, the way he looks at a person makes you feel that he seems to know your secret.” She paused, “I think he does, of course, after all, they are peeping everything. How abominable."

Curtis wanted to know why Fern had a handle on Holt, but he stopped his curiosity.After all, it's none of his business.

"Okay, maybe we can get this over with," he said, "if only I can get away from the operator and make a phone call, and we can get all these bastards."

"Yes, of course." Fern's eyes sparkled. "I think I can help with that."

***

Their plan encountered some twists and turns.First Mrs. Armstrong came out to look for them. She smiled knowingly and declared that she could accompany Fern instead of Miss Morton.Fern laughed at the dry sense of humor, but Curtis saw a hint of tension in Mrs. Armstrong's eyes.

Then they were taken back to the party again.Most hostesses would provide endless entertainment for a country house banquet, but Mrs Armstrong was so popular precisely because she was different - indeed, their successful racketeering career was also due to this - She encouraged guests to disappear in pairs for a while, and even went to great lengths in arranging rooms for evening encounters.

Yet parties still have to maintain a certain level of appearance.With the exception of James, the remaining guests were gathered at Sir Hubert's archery range to try their luck, for the sport was enjoyed by both men and women.Curtis also played, but it was almost impossible to hold the bow even with his full attention, let alone his absent mind at all.At least he didn't have to make excuses for his poor aim.

Several more hours passed before they were finally led to lunch.Curtis would not have noticed the passage of time at any other time, but at this moment he couldn't help cursing Mrs. Armstrong's non-stop tricks in his heart: when will this damn woman give them free time?He's increasingly worried that the unsuspecting Daniel might be sick or worse; Pat Morton is left alone - armed with a gun, she'd have the audacity to shoot if James Armstrong came after her. gun?Time passed by every minute and every second.It was unlikely that reinforcements would arrive today, and the later he called, the later it would be.

When he was in South Africa, Curtis was besieged by the Boers in a corral, lost his way behind enemy lines, and spent two days without being able to replenish water. No kidding.Those experiences hadn't been any fun, but he was beginning to feel that the villa party was making him even more mentally desperate.

"Do try this corned beef, Mr. Curtis," said Mrs. Armstrong. "The cook follows a South African recipe."

"What do South Africans eat?" asked Mrs. Lambton. "I guess zebras or something?"

Curtis was still trying to answer the question when James Armstrong walked in angrily.

"You are late, child," said Sir Hubert, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Dad, and everyone. I went for a walk and didn't keep track of the time."

Curtis didn't believe this.He guessed that James had actually gone to the cave, only to find out—well, hope he didn't find anything.He must be wondering where Daniel is, and where is Holt.Curtis thought that he must have noticed that a bicycle was missing, which meant that Holt had gone out and hadn't returned.

Did he go to Daniel?Or did he send out more people to search?In South Africa there are trackers, those Bushmen [1] who follow tracks for miles across open fields.If it was the wrinkled and bearded man who was called King George, he would definitely be able to find the traces of Curtis rushing from the cave all the way to the tower, and he would also know that he was carrying another person on his back.Curtis could only pray that none of Bigholm's subordinates had this ability.

James sat down at the table after receiving a few words of his father's reprimand. He looked preoccupied.

"I said," he turned to Curtis abruptly, "are you planning to go south?"

Curtis returned a friendly smile. "My useless knee is finally doing better today, thank goodness. I can't do some hiking, but it's helpful to have a walk around. Having said that, I'll ask, and I can borrow your phone and call To my specialist?" he seized the opportunity to ask Mrs. Armstrong, "just in case."

"Anytime, of course. The operator's there until seven—you know we have someone to handle the phone lines here?"

"I want to see how it works," Fern said. "You know, Archie, my father's company built the telephone system here, and he'd be very upset if he knew that I didn't try it myself." Disappointed. May I go and see your telecommunications switchboard too? I don't know anything about circuit design, but I can tell my father how neat it looks."

"No problem, dear." Mrs. Armstrong agreed teasingly. She just smiled slightly, and the other men followed suit, and Fern returned a sweet smile.

When the long and tedious lunch hour was finally over, and they were on the gravel road to the telecommunications exchange, Fern said, "I guess you can learn a lot of vulgar words in the army?"

"Uh, there are some." Curtis couldn't figure it out.

"Don't be nervous, I'll tell you, Pat can be rude sometimes - you know, after all, she grew up with four brothers - having a meal with this group of people makes me miss her way of speaking Seriously, I want to slap Mrs Armstrong." Fern said indignantly, "They thought Mr. Da Silva was waiting to die in some pit, and she was sitting here eating chicken salad and croquettes. .This group of people is devoid of conscience."

"I can only give you a thumbs up. What are you going to do at the switchboard?"

"It depends on how the operator responds. Leave it to me."

The telecommunications switchboard was housed in an unassuming log cabin next to the generator, painted dark green, as if so that it wouldn't blend in with the surrounding landscape when the trees were full in the future.A rapid stream narrowly flows under the wooden house, driving the generator motor, which provides part of the villa's power supply.

Fern knocked on the door and was answered by a short, bald man, who she smiled brightly at.

"Good afternoon, I'm Carus, Fenella Carus. The system here was built by my father, Peter Carus, for Sir Hubert."

The operator's expression didn't change a bit.He clearly has little enthusiasm for the phone system. "Oh, yes. What's your order, Miss?"

"Sir Hubert generously allowed me to visit the telecommunications exchange here, so that I could talk to my father when I got home." She walked in the door, and Curtis followed her, looking curiously at the wiring and sockets around. "Tell me, did he install a Repton transformer here?"

"It's hard to say, miss."

Fern nodded. "Okay, Archie, let me show you. To get a call, you see, you have to connect the telephone line to a switchboard. These talking plugs belong to the telephones in the cottage. You plug them into the sockets, and the The plugs have to be connected to other phone lines. Well, tell me," she said with a charming smile at the operator, "which jack goes to the operator on the receiving side? Which one will make the phone ring?"

Curtis suspected that this was the easiest question she could think of, well within the operator's competence.Sure enough, the operator smiled, and encouraged by Fern's series of innocent questions, he explained the operation strategy in detail, and it wasn't long before she sat down at the table, giggling.

"So all I have to do is connect the talking plug here, and the receiving plug here, and I'll be—Okay, Mr. Curtis, give me your specialist's phone number, and I'll be your operator!"

Curtis recited the telephone number of his uncle's office.Fern answered the phone excitedly, and read aloud, "Call from Archibald Curtis!" As soon as the call came through, she jumped up, put her hands over her mouth, and handed Curtis the receiver. "Oh, we can't eavesdrop on your medical details, it's too rude." She patted the operator's arm, "So tell me about the generator and let Mr. Curtis call here."

The operator tried to protest, but he couldn't react for a while, and there was nothing he could do unless he dared to refuse a woman to her face.When she pushed him out, Curtis immediately said to the person on the other end of the microphone, "I have to speak to Sir Wiser Morris. The matter is very important and endangers national security. Get me through right now, someone's life is at stake here. "

After a while, Curtis left the cabin and joined Fern and the operator in admiring the function of the generator and how advanced the technology was.

The operator looked perplexed as they prepared to leave. "Sir, miss, theoretically I shouldn't leave that machine, not for a second."

"I'm sure the machine is still intact," Fern assured him.

"I don't mean that, miss, but that's my job."

"You're just following the rules, I dare say Sir Hubert will understand," Curtis continued, "but maybe you prefer that we don't mention this to him...?"

"Thank you very much, sir."

"Then at least let me..." Curtis gave him a generous tip, then let Fern hold his hand and walked back to the villa together, proud of their achievements.

***

Pat returned to the cottage shortly before the dinner bell, cheeks flushed from the cold.She went upstairs to change, and Curtis couldn't find a chance to say a word or two to her.He only hoped that Daniel had recovered enough to watch over him for a few hours, that Pat and he had no choice but to be at the dinner table, though James Armstrong was there, which relieved him a little.He decided to keep a close eye on each other all night.

"Where's Mr. Holt?" Pat asked at the end of the conversation. "Did he go first too?"

"We don't know," Mrs. Armstrong said. "I only know that he went out on his bicycle this morning and hasn't returned yet."

"Maybe he had a flat tire and the road was full of gravel. Maybe it was him I saw."

"Did you see him?" James' voice was sharp.

"I don't know if that's him," Pat replied patiently. "About lunchtime, I came across a man on a bicycle who looked like him. About seven miles northeast of here, I was Feel free to eat something on the bedrock nearby."

"Oh, Pat, you're just too much to keep up with." Fern gave her a loving look. "So healthy."

"But is that man Holt?" James demanded.

"Miss Morton said she didn't know." Mrs. Armstrong's tone contained a hint of restraint. "We have sent people out to look for it, and now we can only wait for news."

"He might have had a real flat tire," Pat said firmly. "I'd say I shouldn't have ridden there either, and I'd have to change tires forever."

"Hey, do all your girls still ride bicycles?" Mrs. Lambton seemed disapproving, and then the topic changed from the man killed by Curtis, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He joined the two ladies as they started their round of poker so that he could finally talk to Pat a little before bedtime.The three of them finished playing "Happy Reunion [2]", and at this time Curtis already had a respect for their organizational ability.

"He's not sick," Pat whispered. "I gave him the revolver, and the door is locked. Just take some water with you."

"Is he okay?" Curtis asked as quietly as possible.

Pat looked at him a little unbearably. "He's a bit overwrought, but he'll get through it."

At this time, Fern took a huge lead, and Curtis tried his best to return his attention to the game, but in the end he still lost completely.

This night, just waiting for the banquet to end almost exhausted all his patience.After seeing through the masks these people are wearing, spending time with them drinking and having fun is like a nightmare.Sir Hubert's friendliness was a parody, James Armstrong's and Lamberton's were more obscene than crude, and Lady Armstrong's affability was so obviously hypocritical it was disgusting.He forced himself to smile, to talk, to have fun, and whenever he had the chance to escape, he thankfully retreated to his room.

[1] Bushmen, living in South Africa, Botswana, Namibia and Angola, are indigenous peoples who live by hunting and gathering.

[2] A card game originated from Germany. There are three players. Each side takes turns to play a card from the hand.