杰克愁眉苦脸地盯着他的煎蛋卷。“那个该死的女人！”
Jake stared gloomily at his omelet. “That damned woman!”
“海伦？”
“Helene?”
“不，莫娜?麦克莱恩。昨天我查了从她下那个赌注那天起到现在的所有凶杀案。” 他从口袋里掏出一张脏兮兮皱巴巴的纸。“有十一宗。其中两宗我们知道。五宗可以排除，因为凶手已经被抓住了 —— 都是些抢劫和酒馆斗殴之类的常规案件。剩下的四宗里，一宗是在第四十一大街附近的一条小巷里发现的一个黑人，喉咙被割断了，一宗是一个叫奥斯卡?佐特克的洗衣店司机，他被从卡车上拖下来打了一顿，另外两宗是新年夜被刺伤的那个身份不明的人和图伊兹先生。” 他把单子放回口袋里。
“No, Mona McClane. Yesterday I checked up on all the homicides between the day she made that bet and the present.” He drew a soiled and wrinkled paper from his pocket. “There were eleven. Two of those we know about. Five can be checked off because the slayers have been picked up—routine stuff like stickups and tavern brawls. Of the remaining four, one is a Negro found up an alley off 41st Street, with his throat cut, one is a laundry driver named Oscar Zaudtke who was dragged from his truck and slugged, and the other two were your unidentified guy who was stabbed on New Year’s Eve and Mr. Tuesday.” He put the list back in his pocket.
“我怀疑莫娜?麦克莱恩既没有割断那个黑人的喉咙，也没有打那个洗衣店司机。” 马龙说。“你的单子不太有希望。”
“I doubt if Mona McClane cut the Negro’s throat or slugged the laundry driver,” Malone said. “Your list isn’t very promising.”
杰克叹了口气，从煎蛋卷上切下一平方英寸，用叉子叉起来，又放了下去。“我最后提到的那两个人会很有希望，只是他们不符合赌注的条件。”
Jake sighed, cut a square inch off his omelet, picked it up on his fork, and put it down again. “Those two I named last would be very promising, only they don’t conform to the terms of the bet.”
“在公共街道上被枪杀，有很多目击者。” 马龙喃喃地说。
“Shot down in the public streets, with plenty of witnesses,” Malone murmured.
“目击者！” 杰克把煎蛋卷推到一边，一了百了。“那两个人。那个身份不明的人和图伊兹先生。我现在知道他们是谁以及他们为什么死了。”
“Witnesses!” Jake shoved the omelet to one side, once and for all. “Those two guys. The unidentified one and Tuesday. I know now who they were and why they died.”
马龙被咖啡呛到了。“我希望人们别吓我。好吧，他们是谁？”
Malone strangled on his coffee. “I wish people wouldn’t startle me. All right, who were they?”
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