the wisdom of father brown-第28节

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　fancy；　that's　why　I've　brought　you　here；　my　friend。　　Now　you　shall　see　whether　I　exaggerate　about　the　mariners　of　Cornwall。　　This　place　belongs　to　Old　Pendragon；　whom　we　call　the　Admiral；　though　he　retired　before　getting　the　rank。　　The　spirit　of　Raleigh　and　Hawkins　is　a　memory　with　the　Devon　folk；　it's　a　modern　fact　with　the　Pendragons。　　If　Queen　Elizabeth　were　to　rise　from　the　grave　and　come　up　this　river　in　a　gilded　barge；　she　would　be　received　by　the　Admiral　in　a　house　exactly　such　as　she　was　accustomed　to；　in　every　corner　and　casement；　in　every　panel　on　the　wall　or　plate　on　the　table。　　And　she　would　find　an　English　Captain　still　talking　fiercely　of　fresh　lands　to　be　found　in　little　ships；　as　much　as　if　she　had　dined　with　Drake。〃

　　　　　〃She'd　find　a　rum　sort　of　thing　in　the　garden；〃　said　Father　Brown；　〃which　would　not　please　her　Renaissance　eye。　　That　Elizabethan　domestic　architecture　is　charming　in　its　way；　but　it's　against　the　very　nature　of　it　to　break　out　into　turrets。〃

　　　　　〃And　yet；〃　answered　Fanshaw；　〃that's　the　most　romantic　and　Elizabethan　part　of　the　business。　　It　was　built　by　the　Pendragons　in　the　very　days　of　the　Spanish　wars；　and　though　it's　needed　patching　and　even　rebuilding　for　another　reason；　it's　always　been　rebuilt　in　the　old　way。　　The　story　goes　that　the　lady　of　Sir　Peter　Pendragon　built　it　in　this　place　and　to　this　height；　because　from　the　top　you　can　just　see　the　corner　where　vessels　turn　into　the　river　mouth；　and　she　wished　to　be　the　first　to　see　her　husband's　ship；　as　he　sailed　home　from　the　Spanish　Main。〃

　　　　　〃For　what　other　reason；〃　asked　Father　Brown；　〃do　you　mean　that　it　has　been　rebuilt？〃

　　　　　〃Oh；　there's　a　strange　story　about　that；　too；〃　said　the　young　squire　with　relish。　　〃You　are　really　in　a　land　of　strange　stories。　　King　Arthur　was　here　and　Merlin　and　the　fairies　before　him。　　The　story　goes　that　Sir　Peter　Pendragon；　who　（I　fear）　had　some　of　the　faults　of　the　pirates　as　well　as　the　virtues　of　the　sailor；　was　bringing　home　three　Spanish　gentlemen　in　honourable　captivity；　intending　to　escort　them　to　Elizabeth's　court。　　But　he　was　a　man　of　flaming　and　tigerish　temper；　and　coming　to　high　words　with　one　of　them；　he　caught　him　by　the　throat　and　flung　him　by　accident　or　design；　into　the　sea。　　A　second　Spaniard；　who　was　the　brother　of　the　first；　instantly　drew　his　sword　and　flew　at　Pendragon；　and　after　a　short　but　furious　combat　in　which　both　got　three　wounds　in　as　many　minutes；　Pendragon　drove　his　blade　through　the　other's　body　and　the　second　Spaniard　was　accounted　for。　　As　it　happened　the　ship　had　already　turned　into　the　river　mouth　and　was　close　to　comparatively　shallow　water。　　The　third　Spaniard　sprang　over　the　side　of　the　ship；　struck　out　for　the　shore；　and　was　soon　near　enough　to　it　to　stand　up　to　his　waist　in　water。　　And　turning　again　to　face　the　ship；　and　holding　up　both　arms　to　Heavenlike　a　prophet　calling　plagues　upon　a　wicked　city　he　called　out　to　Pendragon　in　a　piercing　and　terrible　voice；　that　he　at　least　was　yet　living；　that　he　would　go　on　living；　that　he　would　live　for　ever；　and　that　generation　after　generation　the　house　of　Pendragon　should　never　see　him　or　his；　but　should　know　by　very　certain　signs　that　he　and　his　vengeance　were　alive。　　With　that　he　dived　under　the　wave；　and　was　either　drowned　or　swam　so　long　under　water　that　no　hair　of　his　head　was　seen　afterwards。〃

　　　　　〃There's　that　girl　in　the　canoe　again；〃　said　Flambeau　irrelevantly；　for　good…looking　young　women　would　call　him　off　any　topic。　　〃She　seems　bothered　by　the　queer　tower　just　as　we　were。〃

　　　　　Indeed；　the　black…haired　young　lady　was　letting　her　canoe　float　slowly　and　silently　past　the　strange　islet；　and　was　looking　intently　up　at　the　strange　tower；　with　a　strong　glow　of　curiosity　on　her　oval　and　olive　face。

　　　　　〃Never　mind　girls；〃　said　Fanshaw　impatiently；　〃there　are　plenty　of　them　in　the　world；　but　not　many　things　like　the　Pendragon　Tower。　　As　you　may　easily　suppose；　plenty　of　superstitions　and　scandals　have　followed　in　the　track　of　the　Spaniard's　curse；　and　no　doubt；　as　you　would　put　it；　any　accident　happening　to　this　Cornish　family　would　be　connected　with　it　by　rural　credulity。　　But　it　is　perfectly　true　that　this　tower　has　been　burnt　down　two　or　three　times；　and　the　family　can't　be　called　lucky；　for　more　than　two；　I　think；　of　the　Admiral's　near　kin　have　perished　by　shipwreck；　and　one　at　least；　to　my　own　knowledge；　on　practically　the　same　spot　where　Sir　Peter　threw　the　Spaniard　overboard。〃

　　　　　〃What　a　pity！〃　exclaimed　Flambeau。　　〃She's　going。〃

　　　　　〃When　did　your　friend　the　Admiral　tell　you　this　family　history？〃　asked　Father　Brown；　as　the　girl　in　the　canoe　paddled　off；　without　showing　the　least　intention　of　extending　her　interest　from　the　tower　to　the　yacht；　which　Fanshaw　had　already　caused　to　lie　alongside　the　island。

　　　　　〃Many　years　ago；〃　replied　Fanshaw；　〃he　hasn't　been　to　sea　for　some　time　now；　though　he　is　as　keen　on　it　as　ever。　　I　believe　there's　a　family　compact　or　something。　　Well；　here's　the　landing　stage；　let's　come　ashore　and　see　the　old　boy。〃

　　　　　They　followed　him　on　to　the　island；　just　under　the　tower；　and　Father　Brown；　whether　from　the　mere　touch　of　dry　land；　or　the　interest　of　something　on　the　other　bank　of　the　river　（which　he　stared　at　very　hard　for　some　seconds）；　seemed　singularly　improved　in　briskness。　　They　entered　a　wooded　avenue　between　two　fences　of　thin　greyish　wood；　such　as　often　enclose　parks　or　gardens；　and　over　the　top　of　which　the　dark　trees　tossed　to　and　fro　like　black　and　purple　plumes　upon　the　hearse　of　a　giant。　　The　tower；　as　they　left　it　behind；　looked　all　the　quainter；　because　such　entrances　are　usually　flanked　by　two　towers；　and　this　one　looked　lopsided。　　But　for　this；　the　avenue　had　the　usual　appearance　of　the　entrance　to　a　gentleman's　grounds；　and；　being　so　curved　that　the　house　was　now　out　of　sight；　somehow　looked　a　much　larger　park　than　any　plantation　on　such　an　island　could　really　be。　　Father　Brown　was；　perhaps；　a　little　fanciful　in　his　fatigue；　but　he　almost　thought　the　whole　place　must　be　growing　larger；　as　things　do　in　a　nightmare。　　Anyhow；　a　mystical　monotony　was　the　only　character　of　their　march；　until　Fanshaw　suddenly　stopped；　and　pointed　to　something　sticking　out　through　the　grey　fence　something　that　looked　at　first　rather　like　the　imprisoned　horn　of　some　beast。　　Closer　observation　showed　that　it　was　a　slightly　curved　blade　of　metal　that　shone　faintly　in　the　fading　light。

　　　　　Flambeau；　who　like　all　Frenchmen　had　been　a　soldier；　bent　over　it　and　said　in　a　startled　voice：　　〃Why；　it's　a　sabre！　　I　believe　I　know　the　sort；　heavy　and　curved；　but　shorter　than　the　cavalry；　they　used　to　have　them　in　artillery　and　the〃

　　　　　As　he　spoke　the　blade　plucked　itself　out　of　the　crack　it　had　made　and　came　down　again　with　a　more　ponderous　slash；　splitting　the　fissiparous　fence　to　the　bottom　with　a　rending　noise。　　Then　it　was　pulled　out　again；　flashed　above　the　fence　some　feet　further　along；　and　again　split　it　halfway　down　with　the　first　stroke；　and　after　waggling　a　little　to　extricate　itself　（accompanied　with　curses　in　the　darkness）　split　it　down　to　the　ground　with　a　second。　　Then　a　kick　of　devilish　energy　sent　the　whole　loosened　square　of　thin　wood　flying　into　the　pathway；　and　a　great　gap　of　dark　coppice　gaped　in　the　paling。

　　　　　Fanshaw　peered　into　the　dark　opening　and　uttered　an　exclamation　of　astonishment。　　〃My　dear　Admiral！〃　he　exclaimed；　〃do　youer　do　you　generally　cut　out　a　new　front　door　whenever　you　want　to　go　for　a　walk？〃

　　　　　The　voice　in　the　gloom　swore　again；　and　then　broke　into　a　jolly　laugh。　　〃No；〃　it　said；　〃I've　really　got　to　cut　down　this　fence　somehow；　it's　spoiling　all　the　plants；　and　no　one　else　here　can　do　it。　　But　Ill　only　carve　another　bit　off　die　front　door；　and　then　come　out　and　welcome　you。〃

　　　　　And　sure　enough；　he　heaved　up　his　weapon　once　more；　and；　hacking　twice；　brought　down　another　and　similar　strip　of　fence；　making　the　opening　about　fourteen　feet　wide　in　all。　　Then　through　this　larger　forest　gateway　he　came　out　into　the　evening　light；　with　a　chip　of　grey　wood　sticking　to　his　sword…blade。

　　　　　He　momentarily　fulfilled　all　Fanshaw's　fable　of　an　old　piratical　Admiral；　though　the　details　seemed　afterwards　to　decompose　into　accidents。　　For　instance；　he　wore　a　broad…brimmed　hat　as　protection　against　the　sun；　but　the　front　flap　of　it　was　turned　up　straight　to　the　sky；　and　the　two　corners　pulled　down　lower　than　the　ears；　so　that　it　stood　across　his　forehead　in　a　crescent　like　the　old　cocked　hat　worn　by　Nelson。　　He　wore　an　ordinary　dark…blue　jacket；　with　nothing　special　about　the　buttons；　but　the　combination　of　it　with　white　linen　trousers　somehow　had　a　sailorish　look。　　He　was　tall　and　loose；　and　walked　with　a　sort　of　swagger；　which　was　not　a　sailor's　roll；　and　yet　somehow　suggested　it；　and　he　held　in　his　hand　a　short　sabre　which　was　like　a　navy　cutlass；　but　about　twice　as　big。　　Under　the　bridge　of　the　hat　his　eagle　face　looked　eager；　all　the　more　because　it　was　not　only　clean…shaven；　but　without　eyebrows。　　It　seemed　almost　as　if　all　the　hair　had　come　off　his　face　from　his　thrusting　it　through　a　throng　of　elements。　　His　eyes　were　prominent　and　piercing。　　His　colour　was　curiously　attractive；　while　partly　tropical；　it　remind