the wisdom of father brown-第38节

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　　　　　Cray　slipped　upstairs　to　change；　Dr　Oman　and　Miss　Watson　betook　themselves　solemnly　down　the　street；　with　a　string　of　other　churchgoers；　but　Father　Brown　noticed　that　the　doctor　twice　looked　back　and　scrutinized　the　house；　and　even　came　back　to　the　corner　of　the　street　to　look　at　it　again。

　　　　　The　priest　looked　puzzled。　　〃He　can't　have　been　at　the　dustbin；〃　he　muttered。　　〃Not　in　those　clothes。　　Or　was　he　there　earlier　today？〃

　　　　　Father　Brown；　touching　other　people；　was　as　sensitive　as　a　barometer；　but　today　he　seemed　about　as　sensitive　as　a　rhinoceros。　　By　no　social　law；　rigid　or　implied；　could　he　be　supposed　to　linger　round　the　lunch　of　the　Anglo…Indian　friends；　but　he　lingered；　covering　his　position　with　torrents　of　amusing　but　quite　needless　conversation。　　He　was　the　more　puzzling　because　he　did　not　seem　to　want　any　lunch。　　As　one　after　another　of　the　most　exquisitely　balanced　kedgerees　of　curries；　accompanied　with　their　appropriate　vintages；　were　laid　before　the　other　two；　he　only　repeated　that　it　was　one　of　his　fast…days；　and　munched　a　piece　of　bread　and　sipped　and　then　left　untasted　a　tumbler　of　cold　water。　　His　talk；　however；　was　exuberant。

　　　　　〃I'll　tell　you　what　I'll　do　for　you；〃　he　cried；　〃I'll　mix　you　a　salad！　　I　can't　eat　it；　but　I'll　mix　it　like　an　angel！　　You've　got　a　lettuce　there。〃

　　　　　〃Unfortunately　it's　the　only　thing　we　have　got；〃　answered　the　good…humoured　Major。　　〃You　must　remember　that　mustard；　vinegar；　oil　and　so　on　vanished　with　the　cruet　and　the　burglar。〃

　　　　　〃I　know；〃　replied　Brown；　rather　vaguely。　　〃That's　what　I've　always　been　afraid　would　happen。　　That's　why　I　always　carry　a　cruet…stand　about　with　me。　　I'm　so　fond　of　salads。〃

　　　　　And　to　the　amazement　of　the　two　men　he　took　a　pepper…pot　out　of　his　waistcoat　pocket　and　put　it　on　the　table。

　　　　　〃I　wonder　why　the　burglar　wanted　mustard；　too；〃　he　went　on；　taking　a　mustard…pot　from　another　pocket。　　〃A　mustard　plaster；　I　suppose。　　And　vinegar〃and　producing　that　condiment　〃haven't　I　heard　something　about　vinegar　and　brown　paper？　As　for　oil；　which　I　think　I　put　in　my　left〃

　　　　　His　garrulity　was　an　instant　arrested；　for　lifting　his　eyes；　he　saw　what　no　one　else　sawthe　black　figure　of　Dr　Oman　standing　on　the　sunlit　lawn　and　looking　steadily　into　the　room。　　Before　he　could　quite　recover　himself　Cray　had　cloven　in。

　　　　　〃You're　an　astounding　card；〃　he　said；　staring。　　〃I　shall　come　and　hear　your　sermons；　if　they're　as　amusing　as　your　manners。〃　　His　voice　changed　a　little；　and　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair。

　　　　　〃Oh；　there　are　sermons　in　a　cruet…stand；　too；〃　said　Father　Brown；　quite　gravely。　　〃Have　you　heard　of　faith　like　a　grain　of　mustard…seed；　or　charity　that　anoints　with　oil？　　And　as　for　vinegar；　can　any　soldiers　forget　that　solitary　soldier；　who；　when　the　sun　was　darkened〃

　　　　　Colonel　Cray　leaned　forward　a　little　and　clutched　the　tablecloth。

　　　　　Father　Brown；　who　was　making　the　salad；　tipped　two　spoonfuls　of　the　mustard　into　the　tumbler　of　water　beside　him；　stood　up　and　said　in　a　new；　loud　and　sudden　voice〃Drink　that！〃

　　　　　At　the　same　moment　the　motionless　doctor　in　the　garden　came　running；　and　bursting　open　a　window　cried：　　〃Am　I　wanted？　　Has　he　been　poisoned？〃

　　　　　〃Pretty　near；〃　said　Brown；　with　the　shadow　of　a　smile；　for　the　emetic　had　very　suddenly　taken　effect。　　And　Cray　lay　in　a　deck…chair；　gasping　as　for　life；　but　alive。

　　　　　Major　Putnam　had　sprung　up；　his　purple　face　mottled。　　〃A　crime！〃　he　cried　hoarsely。　　〃I　will　go　for　the　police！〃

　　　　　The　priest　could　hear　him　dragging　down　his　palm…leaf　hat　from　the　peg　and　tumbling　out　of　the　front　door；　he　heard　the　garden　gate　slam。　　But　he　only　stood　looking　at　Cray；　and　after　a　silence　said　quietly：

　　　　　〃I　shall　not　talk　to　you　much；　but　I　will　tell　you　what　you　want　to　know。　　There　is　no　curse　on　you。　　The　Temple　of　the　Monkey　was　either　a　coincidence　or　a　part　of　the　trick；　the　trick　was　the　trick　of　a　white　man。　　There　is　only　one　weapon　that　will　bring　blood　with　that　mere　feathery　touch：　　a　razor　held　by　a　white　man。　　There　is　one　way　of　making　a　common　room　full　of　invisible；　overpowering　poison：　　turning　on　the　gasthe　crime　of　a　white　man。　　And　there　is　only　one　kind　of　club　that　can　be　thrown　out　of　a　window；　turn　in　mid…air　and　come　back　to　the　window　next　to　it：　　the　Australian　boomerang。　　You'll　see　some　of　them　in　the　Major's　study。〃

　　　　　With　that　he　went　outside　and　spoke　for　a　moment　to　the　doctor。　　The　moment　after；　Audrey　Watson　came　rushing　into　the　house　and　fell　on　her　knees　beside　Cray's　chair。　　He　could　not　hear　what　they　said　to　each　other；　but　their　faces　moved　with　amazement；　not　unhappiness。　　The　doctor　and　the　priest　walked　slowly　towards　the　garden　gate。

　　　　　〃I　suppose　the　Major　was　in　love　with　her；　too；〃　he　said　with　a　sigh；　and　when　the　other　nodded；　observed：　　〃You　were　very　generous；　doctor。　　You　did　a　fine　thing。　　But　what　made　you　suspect？〃

　　　　　〃A　very　small　thing；〃　said　Oman；　〃but　it　kept　me　restless　in　church　till　I　came　back　to　see　that　all　was　well。　　That　book　on　his　table　was　a　work　on　poisons；　and　was　put　down　open　at　the　place　where　it　stated　that　a　certain　Indian　poison；　though　deadly　and　difficult　to　trace；　was　particularly　easily　reversible　by　the　use　of　the　commonest　emetics。　　I　suppose　he　read　that　at　the　last　moment〃

　　　　　〃And　remembered　that　there　were　emetics　in　the　cruet…stand；〃　said　Father　Brown。　　〃Exactly。　　He　threw　the　cruet　in　the　dustbin　where　I　found　it；　along　with　other　silverfor　the　sake　of　a　burglary　blind。　　But　if　you　look　at　that　pepper…pot　I　put　on　the　table；　you'll　see　a　small　hole。　　That's　where　Cray's　bullet　struck；　shaking　up　the　pepper　and　making　the　criminal　sneeze。〃

　　　　　There　was　a　silence。　　Then　Dr　Oman　said　grimly：　　〃The　Major　is　a　long　time　looking　for　the　police。〃

　　　　　〃Or　the　police　in　looking　for　the　Major？〃　said　the　priest。　　〃Well；　good…bye。〃




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　ELEVEN


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Strange　Crime　of　John　Boulnois


MR　CALHOUN　KIDD　was　a　very　young　gentleman　with　a　very　old　face；　a　face　dried　up　with　its　own　eagerness；　framed　in　blue…black　hair　and　a　black　butterfly　tie。　　He　was　the　emissary　in　England　of　the　colossal　American　daily　called　the　Western　Sun　also　humorously　described　as　the　〃Rising　Sunset〃。　　This　was　in　allusion　to　a　great　journalistic　declaration　（attributed　to　Mr　Kidd　himself）　that　〃he　guessed　the　sun　would　rise　in　the　west　yet；　if　American　citizens　did　a　bit　more　hustling。〃　Those；　however；　who　mock　American　journalism　from　the　standpoint　of　somewhat　mellower　traditions　forget　a　certain　paradox　which　partly　redeems　it。　　For　while　the　journalism　of　the　States　permits　a　pantomimic　vulgarity　long　past　anything　English；　it　also　shows　a　real　excitement　about　the　most　earnest　mental　problems；　of　which　English　papers　are　innocent；　or　rather　incapable。　　The　Sun　was　full　of　the　most　solemn　matters　treated　in　the　most　farcical　way。　　William　James　figured　there　as　well　as　〃Weary　Willie；〃　and　pragmatists　alternated　with　pugilists　in　the　long　procession　of　its　portraits。

　　　　　Thus；　when　a　very　unobtrusive　Oxford　man　named　John　Boulnois　wrote　in　a　very　unreadable　review　called　the　Natural　Philosophy　Quarterly　a　series　of　articles　on　alleged　weak　points　in　Darwinian　evolution；　it　fluttered　no　corner　of　the　English　papers；　though　Boulnois's　theory　（which　was　that　of　a　comparatively　stationary　universe　visited　occasionally　by　convulsions　of　change）　had　some　rather　faddy　fashionableness　at　Oxford；　and　got　so　far　as　to　be　named　〃Catastrophism〃。　　But　many　American　papers　seized　on　the　challenge　as　a　great　event；　and　the　Sun　threw　the　shadow　of　Mr　Boulnois　quite　gigantically　across　its　pages。　　By　the　paradox　already　noted；　articles　of　valuable　intelligence　and　enthusiasm　were　presented　with　headlines　apparently　written　by　an　illiterate　maniac；　headlines　such　as　〃Darwin　Chews　Dirt；　Critic　Boulnois　says　He　Jumps　the　Shocks〃or　〃Keep　Catastrophic；　says　Thinker　Boulnois。〃　And　Mr　Calhoun　Kidd；　of　the　Western　Sun；　was　bidden　to　take　his　butterfly　tie　and　lugubrious　visage　down　to　the　little　house　outside　Oxford　where　Thinker　Boulnois　lived　in　happy　ignorance　of　such　a　title。

　　　　　That　fated　philosopher　had　consented；　in　a　somewhat　dazed　manner；　to　receive　the　interviewer；　and　had　named　the　hour　of　nine　that　evening。　　The　last　of　a　summer　sunset　clung　about　Cumnor　and　the　low　wooded　hills；　the　romantic　Yankee　was　both　doubtful　of　his　road　and　inquisitive　about　his　surroundings；　and　seeing　the　door　of　a　genuine　feudal　old…country　inn；　The　Champion　Arms；　standing　open；　he　went　in　to　make　inquiries。

　　　　　In　the　bar　parlour　he　rang　the　bell；　and　had　to　wait　some　little　time　for　a　reply　to　it。　　The　only　other　person　present　was　a　lean　man　with　close　red　hair　and　loose；　horsey…looking　clothes；　who　was　drinking　very　bad　whisky；　but　smoking　a　very　good　cigar。　　The　whisky；　of　course；　was　the　choice　brand　of　The　Champion　Arms；　the　cigar　he　had　probably　brought　with　him　from　London。　　Nothing　could　be　more　different　than　his　cynical　negligence　from　the　dapper　dryness　of　the　young　American；　but　something　in　his　pencil　and　open　notebook；　and　perhaps　in　the　expression　of　his　alert　blue　eye；　caused　Kidd　to　guess；　correctly；　that　he　was