3 The Photograph 
　  
　　I worked in the garden for the first two days．The weather was hot and sunny．I liked working with Mr Duncan，and he was pleased with my work． 
　　‘You're a good gardener，’he said． 
　　‘I've always liked gardening，’I said．‘But I'm studying at college to be a farmer．’ 
　　Sometimes I saw Greta Ross． 
　　‘She likes to be alone，’I thought．Once or twice I saw Greta go out with her painting things．She went up on the hills or down to the beach． 
　　Mr Duncan took me to the farm and I met Dan and Stella Parks．They were very friendly． 
　　‘You can work on the farm for the next three days，'said Day Parks．‘Mr Duncan says you're a good gardener．Are you a good farmer，too？’ 
　　I smiled at him．‘I am，’I said． 
　　He smiled back． 
　　So I worked on the farm with Mr and Mrs Parks．They were nice people．I helped with the cows and the chickens，and went up on the hills with Mr Parks and his dog to look after the sheep． 
　　One afternoon I went out riding． Smoke was a big， lazy，friendly horse．I enjoyed riding and Smoke knew his way around the island very well．I learned new places to go to． 
　　I rode along the cliff top and then in between some trees．When we came out of the trees， I saw the house from the other side．I tried to find the window of my room．Which one was it？ 
　　Suddenly，I saw a face at one of the windows．The face was looking at me．It was there for just a second or two，then it moved away quickly． 
　　‘Who was thst？’I thought．‘Was it Mr Ross？And which room was it？’ 
　　I didn't see my mother very much that first week．She worked all day and in the evenings．She wrote letters to South America，Japan，Canada and Australia． Sometimes，she worked after I was in bed． 
　　‘Mr Ross works hard，'she told me．‘He invests money in many companies and countries．But it's not his money．’ 
　　‘It's not？’I was surprised by this． 
　　‘No，it's his wife's money．And she bought the island．It's her island，her house，her farm．Everything belongs to her．’ 
　　‘How strange！But why does Mr Ross always look sad？And why does he never leave the island？’I asked． 
　　‘I don't know，'said my mother．‘He says he likes it here and likes working on his farm．It's strange，I know．’ 
　　Sometimes，when I finished work，I walked along the beaches or the cliffs．Or I went swimming in the sea．I liked swimming．Greta Ross often came to the beach to swim，but Mr Ross never came． 
　　‘Stay away from the rocks，Carol，’Greta Ross told me．‘They're very dangerous．’ 
　　‘I will，’I said． 
　　Sometimes I took my camera to the beach and took photographs of some of the boats that went by．I took photographs of the birds on the cliffs． 
　　There were other small islands near our island， and boats with tourists stopped at them．But no boats stopped at our island．They kept away from the dangerous rocks．Tony was right．The island did not have visitors． 
　　One day，I was walking back to the house，and had my camera with me．I stopped and looked at the big house．Mr Duncan was working in the garden in front of it．At first，he didn't see me． 
　　‘I'm going to take a photograph of the house，’I thought．‘The sun is in just the right place， and it will make a good picture．’ 
　　I looked at the building through my camera，and took the photograph．Mr Ross was coming out of a door．He was in my picture，too，and he looked angry． 
　　‘That's all right，’I thought．‘It's still a good photograph．’ 
　　But Mr Duncan was running across the grass．He came quickly up to me and said，‘Give me your camera．’He looked very worried． 
　　‘Wbat's wrong？’I asked in surprise．I gave him the camera． 
　　‘Never take photographs of Mr Ross，’he said．And then he opened the back of my camera and took out the film． 
　　‘Hey！What are you doing？’I said．‘You'll spoil my film！’ 
　　But he didn't stop．‘Sorry，’he said， and he put the film into his pocket．‘But no pictures of Mr Ross． He doesn't like people to take pictures of him．’ 
　　Mr Ross was watching us．He saw the camera and he saw Mr Duncan take out the film，but he said nothing．Then he turned and went back into the house． 
　　Later，I told my mother about Mr Duncan and the camera．‘He spoiled my film，’I said． 
　　‘I don't understand，'she said．‘Why did he do that？’ 
　　‘I don't know，’I said，‘but there's something strange about Mr Ross．’ 
　　About a week later，I finished work early one day and came back to the house．My mother was working in her small room，next to Mr Ross's office． Mrs Duncan was in the kitchen．Greta Ross was painting in her room upstairs． 
　　I went to my room and began reading a book．I was sitting beside the window．After half an hour，I got tired of reading．I looked out at the rain，and the grey sea and rocks between the trees． 
　　‘My book isn't very interesting，’I thought． 
　　I got up and went out of my room．I walked along the passage and turned a corner．Then I saw the door at the end of the passage．There was a large plant in a plant pot outside the door． 
　　‘Where dogs that door go？’I thought．‘I haven't seen it before．’I remembered the face at the window in my first week on the island．‘Perhaps it's the door to that room，’I thought． 
　　I walked along to the door and turned the handle．The door didn't move．It was locked． 
　　‘What are you doing？'said a voice behind me． 
　　I turned round quickly and saw Greta Ross．She looked angry． 
　　‘That room is private，'she said． 
　　‘I'm sorry，’I said．‘I didn't—’ 
　　‘Stay away from there，'she told me． 
　　I told my mother about the locked door． 
　　‘What's behind it？’I said．‘Is it a secret？’ 
　　‘I don't know，'said my mother．‘It doesn't matter．Mr Ross can have locked rooms if he wants them．’ 
　　‘I think he does have secrets，’I said．‘There's something strange about him There's something strange about this island．Somebody isn't telling us something．Something important．’ 
　　My mother laughed．‘Stop playing detective，Carol，'she said．  
　 
3 照片 
　  
　　头两天我在园子里干活。天气晴朗而炎热。我很喜欢与邓肯先生一块儿干活，他对我干的活也很满意。 
　　“你是个好园丁，”他说。 
　　“我一向喜欢园艺。”我说，“但我现在正上大学，以便当个农夫。” 
　　我有时见到格里塔·罗斯。 
　　“她喜欢一个人独处，”我想。有一两次我看见格里塔带着画具出去了。她到山上或到海滩去。 
　　邓肯先生带我到农场去，我见到了丹·帕克斯和斯特拉·帕克斯。他们非常友好。 
　　“接下来的这三天你可以在农场干活。”丹·帕克斯说，“邓肯先生说你是个好园丁。你也是个好农夫吗？” 
　　我朝他笑了笑。“是的，”我说。 
　　他回笑了笑。 
　　这样我就和帕克斯夫妇一起在农场干活了。他们是好人。我帮着照看奶牛和小母鸡，还和帕克斯先生及他的狗一起上山去照看羊群。 
　　一天下午，我骑马出去。“烟”是一匹懒散而友善的大马。我喜欢骑马，“烟”对岛上的路很熟。我知道了些新的去处。 
　　我骑马沿着峭壁顶部走，然后在树林中间穿行。当我们从树林中出来时，我看到了那幢房子的另一面。我想找出我房间的窗子。是哪一扇呢？ 
　　突然我看见一扇窗子旁有一张脸。那人正看着我。那人只在那儿呆了一瞬间，接着很快就挪开了。 
　　“那是谁？”我想，“是罗斯先生吗？又是哪个房间呢？” 
　　第一个星期我没怎么见到妈妈。她整个白天还有晚上都在工作。她给南非、日本、加拿大和澳大利亚写信。有时我睡了之后她还在工作。 
　　“罗斯先生工作很努力。”她告诉我，“他给很多公司和国家投资。可那不是他的钱。” 
　　“不是他的钱？”对此我很惊讶。 
　　“不是他的，是他妻子的钱。并且是她买了这个岛。这是她的岛屿，她的房子，她的农场。所有的东西都属于她。” 
　　“多奇怪呀！可为什么罗斯先生总显得那么忧郁呢？为什么他从不离开这个岛呢？”我问道。 
　　“我不知道。”妈妈说，“他说他喜欢这儿，喜欢在他的农场里干活。我知道，这的确有点儿怪。” 
　　有时干完活以后，我就沿着海滩或峭壁散步，或者去海里游泳。我喜欢游泳。格里塔·罗斯常到海边去游泳，但罗斯先生从来不去。 
　　“离礁石远些，卡罗尔。”格里塔·罗斯告诉我，“它们很危险。” 
　　“好吧，”我说。 
　　有时我将照相机带到海边，照照过往的船只，照照峭壁上的鸟儿。 
　　我们这个岛附近还有些其他的小岛，载着旅客的游船停靠在那里。但没有船在我们这个岛边停靠。船只都远离那些危险的礁石。托尼说的对：这个岛上没有客人来。 
　　有一天，我正朝房子走回去，随身带着照相机。我停下来，看着这幢大房子。邓肯先生正在房子前面的园子里干活。起初，他没看见我。 
　　“我来给这幢房子拍一个照吧。”我想，“太阳正在合适的位置，拍出来会挺不错的。” 
　　我把镜头对准了房子，拍了一张。罗斯先生正好从门里出来。他也被拍了进来，他看上去一副生气的样子。 
　　“那也没什么。”我想，“仍然是张好照片。” 
　　但邓肯先生从草地上跑过来。他很快跑到我跟前说：“把相机给我。”他看起来很着急。 
　　“怎么了？”我惊奇地问道。我把相机交给了他。 
　　“决不许给罗斯先生拍照，”他说。然后他打开相机后盖，把胶卷取出来。 
　　“嘿！你干什么呀？”我说，“你会毁了我的胶卷的！” 
　　可他不停手。“对不起，”他说，并把胶卷装进了他自己的衣袋里。“可不许给罗斯先生拍照。他不喜欢别人给他照相。” 
　　罗斯先生正看着我们。他看见了照相机，也看见了邓肯先生把胶卷取出来的过程，可是他什么也没说。然后他转过身就回到房子里去了。 
　　过后，我把邓肯先生和照相机的事情告诉了妈妈。“他毁了我的胶卷，”我说。 
　　“我不明白。”她说，“他为什么要那样做呢？” 
　　“我不知道。”我说，“可罗斯先生这个人真有点儿古怪。” 
　　大约一周之后，有一天我很早就干完活儿，回房子里去了。我母亲正在罗斯先生办公室旁边的她那个小房间里工作。邓肯太太在厨房。格里塔·罗斯在楼上她的房间里画画。 
　　我去了自己的房间，开始读书。我坐在窗子旁。半个小时后，我读腻了。我向外望去，看外面的雨，看隐蔽在树木之间的灰蒙蒙的大海和岩石。 
　　“我的书不很有趣，”我想。 
　　我站起来走出房间。我顺着走廊走，拐了一个弯。然后我看见走廊尽头有一扇门。门外的花盆里有一株很大的植物。 
　　“这门通哪儿呢？”我想。“我先前没见过它。”我记起了我到岛上的第一周看到的、那扇窗子旁的那张脸。“可能这就是通向那个房间的那扇门，”我想。 
　　我一直走到房门前，转了转门把手。门没动，是锁着的。 
　　“你在干什么？”身后有人问我。 
　　我赶紧转过脸，看到了格里塔·罗斯。她显得生气了。 
　　“那是私人专用房间，”她说。 
　　“对不起。”我说，“我不——” 
　　“离那儿远点，”她对我说。 
　　我把那扇锁着的门的事情告诉了我妈妈。 
　　“那扇门后有什么？”我说，“是秘密吗？” 
　　“我不知道。”我妈妈说，“那没什么关系。罗斯先生要是想的话，当然可以有锁起来的房间。” 
　　“我想他一定有秘密。”我说，“他这个人有些古怪。这座岛有些奇怪。有人有什么事情瞒着咱们。是重要的事情。” 
　　我妈妈笑了。“别玩侦探游戏了，卡罗尔，”她说。 
　　　    


 