書(shū)蟲(chóng)3級(jí)《查爾斯·布拉沃的死亡之謎》5. 詹姆斯·格利醫(yī)生的講述

5. Dr James Gully's story

My name is Dr James Gully. I am 68 years old. I live at Orwell Lodge, in Balham. In January 1871 I was living in Malvern, near W ales. That's where I first met Florence – Florence Ricardo, as she was called then ...

It was that man, Charles Bravo, who caused all the trouble. Everything was fine before that. I saw Florence every day, we went for walks and rides around Balham together. We were very happy. But then ...

One day, a few weeks after Florence had been ill, I came to her house as usual. Her companion, Jane Cox, met me at the door. 'I'm sorry, Dr Gully, but Florence isn't at home.'

I was surprised, and hurt. This had never happened before. 'Where has she gone?'

She is visiting a family called Bravo. They are businessmen and lawyers, I think, from Jamaica.'

Without me, I thought sadly. 'Well, tell her I called, will you? I hope to see her tomorrow.'

The next time I saw Florence, she was a different woman. She seemed happy and excited, but worried too. She didn't look me in the eyes. I asked her to have dinner with me in the evening.

Oh, I'm sorry, James,' she said. 'But I can't. I'm going to the theatre with someone.'

Someone?' I asked. 'Who?'

Charles Bravo. I met him the other day.'

Oh, I see. What's he like, this Charles Bravo?'

She looked away from me to hide the excitement in her eyes. But there was a smile on her face – she couldn't hide that. 'Oh, very polite and friendly. He's an interesting man – a lawyer. He's quite handsome, and funny, too. You'll like him, I expect.'

I felt a sudden terrible pain in my chest. It was difficult to breathe. I knew – I knew then that I had lost her. 'How old is he?' I asked.

Quite young – like me. James, are you all right?'

It's my chest. I'll have to sit down. I'll be all right in a few minutes.'

She sat down beside me, but she didn't look at me, even then. And I wasn't all right – not in a few minutes, or a few hours or a few days. I was never all right again. I had lost her to a younger man, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

I met Charles Bravo a few weeks later. He was walking in the village with Florence on his arm – as I used to walk with her. She was right; he was handsome, and young. But he wasn't polite or friendly, not to me. He looked at me as a man looks at an enemy. He smiled coldly.

Charles Bravo

Florence has agreed to marry me, Doctor Gully,' he said. 'She will soon be Mrs Charles Bravo.'

Congratulations,' I said. But my voice sounded strange, and I had that terrible pain in my chest. 'I hope you will be very happy.'

Oh, we will, Doctor Gully, we will,' he said, with that cold smile on his face. 'I expect you were happy too, when you married your wife, all those long years ago. Is Mrs Gully well?'

From his words, from the look on his face, it was clear that Florence had told him all about me, and about the love there had been between us. All during this conversation Florence stayed close to his side and looked down at the ground. Not once did she lift her eyes to my face.

My wife is ... in a hospital in Yorkshire,' I said. 'She is an old, sad woman.'

But still alive, I hope, Dr Gully?' he said, as I turned and walked quickly away. 'Your wife is still alive, I hope, and in good health?'

I hated him then, and I have hated him ever since. I continued to live at my house in Balham – where else could I go? – and in December 1875 I saw Florence go to her wedding with that man. She looked more beautiful than ever. She drove past my house on the way to the church. But she didn't look at me, not once. Not on her wedding day, not in all the weeks afterwards. If I passed her in the street, she looked away, or talked to her friend, Jane Cox. I felt like a dead man, a ghost.

Then one day in March I met Mrs Cox on a train to London. She asked me for some medicine for her mother in Jamaica. I promised to send it to her.

How is Florence?' I asked. 'Is she happy?'

Jane Cox shook her head sadly. 'Not really, no. She was ill in bed last week.'

I'm sorry to hear it,' I said. 'But what about her husband, Charles. Is he kind to her?'

That man?' Mrs Cox said angrily. 'He doesn't know how to be kind to a woman. Everything he does makes her unhappy. She argued with him last Tuesday, and he hit her.'

He hit her?' I was so angry, my hands began to shake. 'You mean, he hit Florence, after she had been ill?' 'Yes,' Jane Cox said. 'It's not a happy marriage, Dr Gully. He is only interested in one thing – her money.'

I was sad and very angry, but there was nothing that I could do to help. I wasn't her guardian any more. Florence had chosen to leave me, and marry Charles Bravo. If her marriage was unhappy, that was her problem, not mine. Perhaps she hated her young husband, I don't know. But I can't believe she killed him. She's too sweet, too kind, too beautiful to do anything like that.

Some people think I killed Charles Bravo, but I didn't. I'm a doctor – my job is to make people well, not to kill them. And when did I kill him? How did I kill him? It was impossible for me to do it. I never entered Florence's house after she married Charles Bravo.

Maybe he killed himself. I don't know and I don't care. The world is a better place without him.

Jane Cox was the only friend that Florence had in that house. She tried to help Florence, I think.

Maybe she can tell you what happened.