“我当然满意。但我很生气。我非常生气。对不起，麦克莱恩夫人。但干这份工作已经够糟糕的了，大家还都瞒着我信息，让我的工作更难进行。”他开始发表长篇大论。
“Sure I’m satisfied. But I’m sore. I’m sore as hell. Pardon me, Mrs. McClane. But it’s bad enough to hold this job, without everybody making it tough for me by holding out information.” He was launched into his lecture.
但等他讲完，他显然觉得从莫娜·麦克莱恩那里再也问不出什么了。三分钟后，马龙把杰克和海伦推进一辆出租车。
But the time he had finished, he evidently decided that nothing further would be learned from Mona McClane. Three minutes later Malone was ushering Jake and Helene into a taxicab.
“罗斯代尔公墓。”他告诉司机。
“Rosedale cemetery,” he told the driver.
“听着，”杰克说，“我已经受够了公墓，不管是私人的还是别的什么，这辈子都不想再去了。”
“Listen,” Jake said, “I’ve had enough of cemeteries, private or otherwise, to last me till I need one.”
“还有为什么——”海伦刚开口。
“And why—” Helene began.
“我要亲眼看看。”马龙神秘地说，“而且，我要有人见证。”
“I want to see it with my own eyes,” Malone said cryptically. “What’s more, I want witnesses along.”
“看什么？”她追问道。
“See what?” she demanded.
“到了你就知道了。”他闷闷不乐地望着窗外，不再说一个字。
“You’ll find out when you get there.” He stared moodily out the window and refused to say another word.
杰克叹了口气。这一天很沉闷，街上堆积着被踩实的雪，阴沉的雾气造成了一种半明半暗的状态，让一排排凄凉的房子看起来比实际上更加破败。去罗斯代尔公墓的路要经过镇上一个单调压抑的地方。杰克希望自己在世界上的任何其他地方。
Jake sighed. The day was dreary, muddied snow was packed down on the streets, and a gloomy mist had produced a semidarkness that made forlorn rows of houses seem even dingier than they actually were. The way to Rosedale cemetery led through a monotonously depressing part of town. Jake wished he were anywhere else in the world.
罗斯代尔公墓占地约一平方英里左右，一侧紧靠着高架铁路。出租车在一个大门前停下，马龙把头伸进小小的管理员值班室，大声喊着“亨利”。
Rosedale cemetery stretched over a square mile or so, one side of it backed up against the elevated. The taxi stopped at a gate where Malone poked his head into the small attendant’s booth and bawled loudly for “Henry.”
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