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THE ROMAN HAT MYSTERY
A Problem in Deduction
By
ELLERY QUEEN
PART ONE
Foreword
｜｜｜｜｜｜｜｜ローマ｜帽子の｜謎
｜｜｜｜｜｜｜｜推理による一つの問題
｜｜｜｜｜｜エラリイ＝クイーン
｜｜｜｜｜｜第一部
｜｜｜｜序文
I have been asked by both publisher and author to write a cursory preface to the story of Monte Field’s murder. Let me say at once that I am neither a writer nor a criminologist. To make authoritative
remarks, therefore, anent the techniques of crime and crime-fiction is obviously beyond my capacity. Nevertheless, I have one legitimate claim to the privilege of introducing this remarkable story, based as it is upon perhaps the most mystifying crime of the past decade…. If it were not for me, “The Roman Hat Mystery” would never have reached the fiction-reading public. I am responsible for its having been brought to light; and there my pallid connection with it ends.
私は、｜出版社｜および｜著者の｜双方から｜依頼を｜受け、｜＜モンテ＝フィールド＞殺害｜事件の｜物語に｜添える、｜簡単な｜序文を｜書くことに｜なった。
最初に｜断っておくが、｜私は｜作家｜でもなければ｜犯罪学者｜でもない。｜｜したがって、｜犯罪や｜犯罪｜小説の｜技法について｜権威ある｜論評を｜行う｜能力など、｜私には｜明らかにない。
それでも｜なお、｜この｜注目すべき｜物語を｜紹介する｜特権に｜ついて、｜私には｜正当な｜根拠が｜一つ｜ある。｜｜この｜物語は、｜過去｜十年間でも｜おそらく｜最も｜不可解な｜犯罪に｜基づいて｜いるのだが、｜もし｜私が｜いなければ、｜『ローマ｜帽子の｜謎』は｜決して｜小説｜読者の｜前に｜姿を｜現すことは｜なかっただろう。
この事件が｜世に出る｜きっかけを｜作ったのは｜私であり、｜私と｜この事件との｜淡い｜関わりは、｜そこまでで｜終わっている。
During the past winter I shook off the dust of New York and went a-traveling in Europe.
In the course of a capricious roving about the corners of the Continent (a roving induced by that boredom which comes to every Conrad in quest of his youth)—I found myself one August day in a tiny Italian mountain-village.
How I got there, its location and its name do not matter; a promise is a promise, even when it is made by a stockbroker. Dimly I remembered that this toy hamlet perched on the lip of a sierra harbored two old friends whom I had not seen for two years.
They had come from the seething sidewalks of New York to bask in the
brilliant peace of an Italian countryside—well, perhaps it was as much curiosity about their regrets as anything else, that prompted me to intrude upon their solitude.
昨年の｜冬、｜私は｜ニューヨークでの｜忙しい｜生活から｜離れ、｜ヨーロッパへ｜旅に｜出た。
誰もが｜若かった｜ころを｜求める｜あの｜コンラッド（若い｜頃に｜世界を｜放浪し、｜後に｜ 文学者｜として｜成功した｜＜ジョゼフ＝コンラッド＞の｜こと）の｜ような｜退屈な｜気分に｜突き動かされ、｜気の向くままに｜大陸の｜あちこちを｜巡っていた。｜｜そして、｜八月の｜ある日、｜私は｜小さな｜イタリア｜山中の｜村に｜たどり｜着いていた。
どうやって｜そこへ｜行ったのか、｜その場所が｜どこにあり、｜何という｜名の｜村だったのか｜明かすことは｜できない。｜｜そう｜約束した｜以上、｜株｜仲買人で｜あっても｜約束は｜約束である。
この｜山の｜端に｜ちょこんと｜のっている｜おもちゃの｜ような｜小さな｜村に、｜二人の｜友人が｜いることを、｜私は｜ぼんやりと｜思い出していた。｜｜彼らとは｜二年も｜会っていなかった。
二人は、｜ニューヨークの｜人込みで｜あふれた｜歩道を｜離れ、｜イタリアの｜田園が｜もたらす｜明るく｜静かな｜暮らしを｜味わっていた。
もっとも、｜私が｜彼らの｜静かな｜生活に｜踏み込んだのは、｜再会したい｜気持ちと｜同じくらい、｜彼らが｜何か｜後悔｜していることが｜あるのか｜知りたいという｜好奇心が｜あったのかも｜しれない。
My reception at the hands of old Richard Queen, keener and grayer than ever, and of his son Ellery was cordial enough.
We had been more than friends in the old days; perhaps, too, the vinous air of Italy was too heady a cure for their dust-choked Manhattan memories.
In any case, they seemed profoundly glad to see me.
Mrs. Ellery Queen—Ellery was now the husband of a glorious creature and the startled father of an infant who resembled his grandfather to an extraordinary degree—was as gracious as the name she bore.
Even Djuna, no longer the scapegrace I had known, greeted me with every sign of nostalgia.
年を取り、｜白髪は｜増えたものの、｜いっそう｜勘の｜鋭さを｜増した｜＜リチャード＝クイーン＞と、｜その息子｜＜エラリイ＞は、｜私を｜十分｜好意的に｜迎えてくれた。
昔の｜私たちは、｜単なる｜友人では｜なかった。｜｜さらに、｜イタリアの｜穏やかな｜空気は、｜彼らの＜マンハッタン＞での｜重苦しい｜記憶を｜振り払う｜効果が｜効きすぎたのだろうか。
いずれにしても、｜二人は｜私に｜会えたことを、｜心から｜喜んでいる｜ように｜見えた。
＜ミセス＝エラリイ＝クイーン＞は、｜その名に｜ふさわしい｜気品を｜備えた｜人だった。
エラリイは｜今や、｜見事な｜女性の｜夫であり、｜しかも｜驚くほど｜父に｜似た｜赤ん坊の｜父親に｜なって｜びっくり｜していたのである。
｜あの｜＜ジュナ＞でさえ、｜もはや｜私が｜知っている｜問題児では｜なくなり、｜懐かしさを｜にじませて｜私を｜迎えてくれた。
Despite Ellery’s desperate efforts to make me forget New York and appreciate the lofty beauties of his local scenery, I had not been in their tiny villa for many days before a devilish notion took possession of me and I began to pester poor Ellery to death.
I have something of a reputation for persistence, if no other virtue; so that before I left, Ellery in despair agreed to compromise.
He took me into his library, locked the door and attacked an old steel filing-cabinet.
After a slow search he managed to bring out what I suspect was under his fingers all the time.
エラリイは、｜この土地の｜雄大な｜景色を｜味あわせて、｜私に｜ニューヨークの｜ことを｜忘れさせ｜忘れさせようと｜努めて｜くれた。｜しかし、｜彼らの｜小さな｜別荘に｜滞在して｜まだ｜幾日も｜経たないうちに、｜私は｜ある｜いたずらめいた｜考えが｜浮かび、｜かわいそうな｜エラリイを｜しつこく｜困らせる｜ようになった。
私は、｜ほかに｜長所が｜あるかは｜ともかく、｜ねばり強さに｜ついては｜多少｜知られており、｜私が｜立ち去る｜前には、｜エラリイは｜根負けして、｜妥協案に｜応じてくれた。
彼は｜私を｜自分の｜書斎に｜連れて行き、｜扉に｜鍵を｜かけると、｜古い｜鋼鉄製の｜書類棚を｜物色｜し始めた。
時間を｜かけて｜探したあと、｜彼は｜何とか｜それを｜取り出した。｜｜だが、｜私の｜見るところでは、｜それは｜最初から｜ずっと｜彼の｜指の｜下に｜あったのでは｜ないかと｜思われる。
The argument raged.
I wished to leave his beloved Italian shores with the manuscript in my trunk, whereas he insisted that the sheaf of contention remain hidden in the cabinet.
Old Richard was wrenched away from his desk, where he was writing a treatise for a German magazine on “American Crime and Methods of Detection,” to settle the affair.
Mrs. Queen held her husband’s arm as he was about to close the incident with a workmanlike fist; Djuna clucked gravely; and even Ellery, Jr. ,extracted his pudgy hand from his mouth long enough to make a comment in the gurgle-language of his kind.
論争は｜白熱した。
私は｜彼の｜愛する｜イタリアの｜この地を｜去るにあたり、｜原稿を｜トランクに｜入れて｜持ち帰りたいと｜望んだが、｜彼は、｜論争の｜原因と｜なっている｜その紙の｜束は、｜書類棚に｜しまったままに｜しておくべきだと｜言い張った。
年配の｜リチャードは、「アメリカの犯罪と捜査方法」という｜題で、｜ドイツの｜雑誌に｜寄稿する｜論文を｜書いていたが、｜この一件を｜収めるために、｜その机から｜無理やり｜引き離された。
ミセス＝クイーンは、｜夫の｜リチャードが｜警官の｜ごとく｜こぶしで｜この一件に｜決着を｜つけようと｜したとき、｜夫の｜腕を｜つかんで｜抑えた。
ジュナは｜心配そうに｜舌うちし、｜＜エラリイ＝ジュニア＞でさえ、｜ぷくぷくした｜手を｜口から｜引き抜いて、｜赤ん坊らしく｜ブーブーと｜一言｜言った。
The upshot of it all was that “The Roman Hat Mystery” went back to the States in my luggage.
Not unconditionally, however—Ellery is a peculiar man.
I was forced solemnly and by all I held dear to swear that the identities of my friends and of the important characters concerned in the story be veiled by pseudonyms; and that, on pain of instant annihilation, their names be permanently withheld from the reading public.
The upshot of it all was that “The Roman Hat Mystery” went back to the States in my luggage.
結局、｜『ローマ｜帽子の｜謎』は、｜私の｜荷物の｜中に｜入って｜アメリカへ｜戻ることになった。
もっとも、｜それは｜無条件｜というわけでは｜ない。｜｜エラリイという｜男は、｜いささか｜変わり者なのだ。
私は、｜自身の｜名誉、｜地位、｜財産の｜すべてを｜かけて、｜きわめて｜厳粛に｜誓約｜させられる｜羽目になった。
すなわち、｜物語に｜関わる｜友人たちや｜重要｜人物の｜正体は、｜実名は｜使わず｜仮名にして｜伏せておくこと。
そして、｜彼らの｜実名は｜永遠に｜読者に｜目に｜触れさせないこと。｜｜もし｜この条件が｜守らなければ｜即時に｜契約を｜解消する｜というのだ。
Consequently “Richard Queen” and “Ellery Queen” are not the true names of those gentlemen.
Ellery himself made the selections; and I might add at once that his choices were deliberately contrived to baffle the reader who might endeavor to ferret the truth from some apparent clue of anagram.
したがって、＜リチャード＝クイーン＞および、｜＜エラリイ＝クイーン＞は、｜あの二人の｜紳士の｜本名では｜ない。
この仮名を｜つけたのは｜エラリイ｜本人である。
ここで｜付け加えて｜おくと、｜彼のつけた｜この仮名は、｜どこか｜アナグラム｜らしく｜見えるが、｜それは｜その仮名を｜手がかりにして｜実名を｜さぐりだそうとする｜読者を｜悩ませる｜ために、｜意図的に｜仕組まれた｜ものである。
“The Roman Hat Mystery” is based on records actually to be found in the police archives of New York City.
Ellery and his father, as usual, worked hand-in-hand on the case.
During this period in his career Ellery was a detective-story writer of no mean reputation.
The affair of the Hat so fascinated him that he kept unusually exhaustive notes, at his leisure coordinating the whole into fiction form, intending to publish it.
The affair of the Hat so fascinated him that he kept unusually exhaustive notes, at his leisure coordinating the whole into fiction form, intending to publish it.
『ローマ｜帽子の｜謎』は、｜＜ニューヨーク＞市｜警察の｜記録｜保管庫に｜実際に｜存在する｜記録に｜基づいている。
この時期の｜エラリイは、｜けっして｜低くない｜評価を｜受けている｜推理｜小説｜作家｜であった。
『真実は｜しばしば｜虚構より｜奇なり』という｜格言を｜信条｜として、｜彼は、｜興味深い｜捜査に｜ついて、｜後に｜自作の｜殺人｜小説に｜使うかも｜しれない｜という｜考えの｜もとで、｜記録を｜取るのを｜常｜としていた。
この｜帽子事件は｜彼を｜それほどまでに｜魅了したため、｜彼は｜異例なほど｜徹底した｜記録を｜残し、｜時間が｜あるときに｜全体を｜小説の｜形へと｜まとめ上げ、｜出版する｜意図を｜抱いていた。
Immediately after, however, he was plunged into another investigation which left him scant opportunity for business; and when this last case was successfully closed, Ellery’s father, the Inspector, consummated a lifelong ambition by retiring and moving to xItaly, bag and baggage.
Ellery, who had in this affair1 found the lady of his heart, was animated by a painful desire to do something “big” in letters; Italy sounded idyllic to him; he married with his father’s blessing and the three of them, accompanied by Djuna, went off to their new European home. The manuscript was utterly forgotten until I rescued it.
On one point, before I close this painfully unhandsome preface, I should like to make myself clear.
I have always found it extremely difficult to explain to strangers the peculiar affinity which bound Richard to Ellery Queen, as I must call them. For one thing, they are persons of by no means uncomplicated natures. Richard Queen, sprucely middle-aged after thirty-two years’ service in the city police, earned his Inspector’s chevrons not so much through diligence as by an extraordinary grasp of the technique of criminal investigation. It was said, for example, at the time of his brilliant detectival efforts during the now-ancient Barnaby-Ross murder-case,2 that “Richard Queen by this feat firmly establishes his fame beside such masters of crime-detection as Tamaka Hiero, Brillon the Frenchman, Kris Oliver, Renaud, and James Redix the Younger.”3
Queen, with his habitual shyness toward newspaper eulogy, was the first to scoff at this extravagant statement; although Ellery maintains that for many years the old man secretly preserved a clipping of the story. However that may be—and I like to think of Richard Queen in terms xiof human personality, despite the efforts of imaginative journalists to make a legend of him—I cannot emphasize too strongly the fact that he was heavily dependent upon his son’s wit for success in many of his professional achievements.
This is not a matter of public knowledge. Some mementoes of their careers are still reverently preserved by friends: the small bachelor establishment maintained during their American residence on West 87th Street, and now a semi-private museum of curios collected during their productive years; the really excellent portrait of father and son, done by Thiraud and hanging in the art-gallery of an anonymous millionaire; Richard’s precious snuff-box, the Florentine antique which he had picked up at an auction and which he thereafter held dearer than rubies, only to succumb to the blandishments of a charming old lady whose name he cleared of slander; Ellery’s enormous collection of books on violence, perhaps as complete as any in the world, which he regretfully discarded when the Queens left for Italy; and, of course, the many as yet unpublished documents containing records of cases solved by the Queens and now stored away from prying eyes in the City’s police archives.
But the things of the heart—the spiritual bonds between father and son—have until this time remained secret from all except a few favored intimates, among whom I was fortunate enough to be numbered. The old man, perhaps the most famous executive of the Detective Division in the last half-century, overshadowing in public renown, it is to be feared, even those gentlemen who sat briefly in the Police Commissioner’s suite—the old man, let me repeat, owed a respectable portion of his reputation to his son’s genius.
xiiIn matters of pure tenacity, when possibilities lay frankly open on every hand, Richard Queen was a peerless investigator. He had a crystal-clear mind for detail; a retentive memory for complexities of motive and plot; a cool viewpoint when the obstacle seemed insuperable. Give him a hundred facts, bungled and torn, out of proportion and sequence, and he had them assembled in short order. He was like a bloodhound who follows the true scent in the clutter of a hopelessly tangled trail.
But the intuitive sense, the gift of imagination, belonged to Ellery Queen, the fiction writer. The two might have been twins possessing abnormally developed faculties of mind, impotent by themselves but vigorous when applied one to the other. Richard Queen, far from resenting the bond which made his success so spectacularly possible—as a less generous nature might have done—took pains to make it plain to his friends. The slender, gray old man whose name was anathema to contemporary lawbreakers, used to utter his “confession,” as he called it, with a naïveté explicable only on the score of his proud fatherhood.
One word more. Of all the affairs pursued by the two Queens this, which Ellery has titled “The Roman Hat Mystery” for reasons shortly to be made clear, was surely the crowning case of them all. The dilettante of criminology, the thoughtful reader of detective literature, will understand as the tale unfolds why Ellery considers the murder of Monte Field worthy of study. The average murderer’s motives and habits are fairly accessible to the criminal specialist. Not so, however, in the case of the Field killer. Here the Queens dealt with a person of delicate perception and extraordinary finesse. In fact, as Richard pointed out shortly after the dénouement, the xiiicrime planned was as nearly perfect as human ingenuity could make it. As in so many “perfect crimes,” however, a small mischance of fate coupled with Ellery’s acute deductive analyses gave the hunting Queens the single clue which led ultimately to the destruction of the plotter.
J. J. McC.
New York,
March 1, 1929.
