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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、私とこの事件とのわずかな関わりはそこで終わるのだ。
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、株の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、彼らの小さな邸宅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.
