p&c.brimstone-第83节

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snowed　heavily。　The　next　day　they　found　his　body；　frozen　to　death；　in　one　of　the　deserted　shepherd's　huts。　The　Stormcloud　was　gone。　There　were　no　tracks　in　the　snow　around　the　hut；　no　clues。　They　concluded　that　on　the　way　up　the　Sciliar；　in　the　grip　of　madness；　he　had　flung　the　violin　into　the　Falls　of　the　Sciliar。〃　
　〃Is　this　what　you　believe？〃　
　〃Reluctantly；　yes。〃　
　Pendergast　leaned　forward。　His　normally　calm；　almost　honeyed　southern　tones　had　taken　on　an　unusual　intensity。　〃Lady　Maskelene；　I　am　here　to　tell　you　that　the　Stormcloud　exists。〃　
　Her　eyes　gazed　at　him　steadily。　〃I've　heard　that　before。〃　
　〃I　will　prove　it　to　you。〃　
　She　continued　looking　at　him　with　a　grave；　steady　face。　Finally　she　gave　a　wan　smile　and　shook　her　head　sadly。　〃I'll　believe　it　when　I　see　it。〃　
　〃Iwill　get　it　back。　And　I　will　place　it　in　your　hands　myself。〃　
　D'Agosta　listened　with　surprise。　He　might　be　wrong；　but　he　was　pretty　sure　Pendergast's　aim　in　ing　here　wasn't　to　inform　this　woman　of　the　violin's　existence。　Fact　was；　he　felt　surprised　Pendergast　even　mentioned　it。　
　She　shook　her　head　more　vigorously。　〃There　are　hundreds　of　Stormcloud　fakes　and　copies　out　there。　They　were　churned　out　by　the　gross　in　the　late　nineteenth　century；　sold　for　nine　pounds　apiece。〃　
　〃When　I　bring　you　the　violin；　Lady　Maskelene…〃　
　〃Enough　of　this　'Lady　Maskelene'　business。　Every　time　you　say　that；　I　think　my　mother　must　have　stepped　into　the　room。　Call　me　Viola。〃　
　〃Certainly。　Viola。〃　
　〃That　sounds　better。　And　I'll　call　you　Aloysius。〃　
　〃Of　course。〃　
　〃What　an　unusual　funny　name；　though。　Did　your　mother　read　a　lot　of　Russian　novels？〃　
　〃Unusual　names　are　a　tradition　in　my　family。〃　
　Viola　laughed。　〃Just　as　musical　names　were　in　mine。　Now　tell　me　about　the　Stormcloud。　Where　in　the　world　did　you　find　it？　If　you　did　really　find　it；　that　is。〃　
　〃I'll　tell　you　the　whole　story　when　I　bring　it　to　you。　You'll　play　it…and　then　you'll　know。〃　
　〃It　is　too　much　to　hope　for。　Still；　I　should　love　to　hear　it　before　I　die。〃　
　〃It　would　also　clear　your　family　name。〃　
　Maskelene　laughed；　waved　her　hand。　〃What　rot。　I　hate　being　called　Lady　Maskelene；　if　you　want　to　know　the　truth。　Titles；　family　honor…that's　nineteenth…century　rubbish。〃　
　〃Honor　is　never　out　of　date。〃　
　She　looked　at　Pendergast　curiously。　〃You're　a　rather　old…fashioned　sort；　aren't　you？〃　
　〃I　don't　pay　much　attention　to　current　fashions；　if　that's　what　you　mean。〃　
　She　looked　his　black　suit　up　and　down　with　an　amused　smile。　〃No；　I　suppose　you　don't。　I　rather　like　that。〃　
　Again　Pendergast　looked　nonplussed。　
　〃Well〃…she　stood　up；　her　brown　eyes　catching　the　light　off　the　water；　a　smile　dimpling　her　face…〃whether　you　find　the　violin　or　not；　e　back　anyway　and　tell　me　about　it。　Will　you？〃　
　〃Nothing　would　please　me　more。〃　
　〃Good。　That's　settled。〃　
　Pendergast　looked　at　her　gravely。　〃Which　brings　me　to　the　point　of　my　visit。〃　
　〃The　big　question。　Ah。〃　She　smiled。　〃Go　ahead。〃　
　〃What　is　the　name　of　that　powerful　family　that　once　owned　the　Stormcloud？〃　
　〃I　can　do　better　than　give　you　a　mere　answer。〃　She　reached　into　her　pocket；　removed　an　envelope；　and　laid　it　before　Pendergast。　In　a　lovely　copperplate　hand　was　written；Dr。　Aloysius　X。　L。　Pendergast。　
　Pendergast　looked　at　it；　his　face　draining　of　color。　〃Where　did　you　get　this？〃　
　〃Yesterday；　the　current　Count　Fosco…for　that　was　the　family　that　once　owned　the　violin…paid　me　a　surprise　visit。　Surprise　is　hardly　the　word…I　was　bowled　over。　He　said　you'd　be　ing；　that　you　were　friends；　and　that　he　wanted　me　to　give　you　this。〃　
　Pendergast　reached　down　and　slowly　picked　up　the　envelope。　D'Agosta　watched　as　he　slid　his　finger　under　the　flap；　tore　it　open；　and　pulled　out　a　card；　on　which　was　written　in　the　same　generous；　flowing　hand：　
　　　
　Isidor　Ottavio　Baldassare　Fosco；　
　Count　of　the　Holy　Roman　Empire；　
　Knight　Grand　Cross　of　the　Order　of　the　Quincunx；　
　Perpetual　Arch…Master　of　the　Rosicrucian　Masons　of　Mesopotamia；　
　Fellow　of　the　Royal　Geographical　Society；　etc。；　etc。；　
　desires　the　pleasure　of　your　pany　
　at　his　family　seat；　
　Castel　Fosco；　
　Sunday；　November　4　
　　　
　Castel　Fosco　
　Greve　in　Chianti　
　Firenze　
　　　
　Pendergast　looked　sharply　at　D'Agosta　and　then　back　at　Lady　Maskelene。　〃This　man　is　no　friend。　He's　extremely　dangerous。〃　
　〃What？　That　fat；　charming　old　count？〃　She　laughed；　but　the　laughter　died　when　she　saw　the　expression　on　his　face。　
　〃He's　the　one　who　has　the　violin。〃　
　She　stared。　〃It　would　be　his；　anyway…wouldn't　it？　I　mean；　if　it　were　found。〃　
　〃He　brutally　murdered　at　least　four　people　to　get　it。〃　
　〃Oh；　my　God…〃　
　〃Don't　say　anything　to　anyone　about　this。　You'll　be　safe　here；　on　Capraia。　He　would　have　killed　you　already　if　he　thought　it　was　necessary。〃　
　She　stared　back。　〃You're　frightening　me。〃　
　〃Yes；　and　I'm　sorry；　but　sometimes　it's　good　to　be　afraid。　It　will　be　over　in　two　or　three　days。　Please　be　careful；　Viola。　Just　stay　here　and　do　nothing　until　I　return　with　the　violin。〃　
　For　a　moment；　she　did　not　reply。　Then　she　stirred。　〃You　must　go。　You'll　miss　the　ferry。〃　
　Pendergast　took　her　hand。　They　stood　quite　still；　looking　at　each　other；　saying　nothing。　Then　Pendergast　turned　and　quickly　walked　through　the　gate　and　down　the　trail。　
　D'Agosta　leaned　against　the　fantail　of　the　ferry；　watching　the　island　dissolve　on　the　horizon　in　much　the　same　way　it　had　appeared：　with　a　sense　of　expectancy；　of　a　fresh　beginning。　Pendergast　stood　beside　him。　Since　they　had　left　the　small　house　on　the　bluff；　the　agent　hadn't　said　a　word。　He　stared　back　over　the　churning　wake；　apparently　lost　in　thought。　
　〃Fosco　knew　that　you　knew；〃　said　D'Agosta。　〃That's　what　saved　her。〃　
　〃Yes。〃　
　〃This　whole　thing。　It　was　just　an　elaborate　plot　to　get　the　violin；　wasn't　it？〃　
　Pendergast　nodded。　
　〃I　knew　from　the　beginning　that　fat　bastard　had　something　to　do　with　it。〃　
　Pendergast　didn't　respond。　His　gaze　was　far　away。　
　〃Are　you　all　right？〃　D'Agosta　finally　risked　asking。　
　Pendergast　started；　looked　over。　〃Quite　all　right；　thanks。〃　
　The　island　had　finally　disappeared。　As　if　on　cue；　the　low　outline　of　the　Tuscan　mainland　began　to　materialize　on　the　eastern　horizon。　
　〃What　now？〃　
　〃I　accept　Fosco's　invitation。　It's　one　thing　to　know；　quite　another　to　have　proof。　If　we　want　to　get　Fosco；　we　have　to　get　whatever　machine　he　used　to　mit　these　murders。〃　
　〃So　why　did　Fosco　give　you　an　invitation？〃　
　〃He　wants　to　kill　me。〃　
　〃Great。　And　you　plan　on　accepting？〃　
　Pendergast　turned　away　and　gazed　back　out　to　sea；　his　eyes　almost　white　in　the　brilliant　light。　〃Fosco　knows　I'll　accept；　because　it's　the　only　chance　to　gather　the　evidence　we　need　to　put　him　behind　bars。　If　we　don't　do　it　now；　he　will　be　back　to　haunt　us　next　month；　perhaps；　or　a　year　from　now；　or　ten　years　。　。　。〃　He　paused。　〃And　what's　more；　he'll　always　be　a　danger　to　Viola…Lady　Maskelene…for　what　she　knows。〃　
　〃I　get　it。〃　
　But　Pendergast　was　still　looking　out　to　sea。　When　he　spoke　again；　his　voice　was　very　low。　〃It　ends　tomorrow；　in　the　Castel　Fosco。〃　
　　　
　73　
　
　Bryce　Harriman　sat　at　the　old　table；　taking　notes　in　the　harshlight　of　a　Coleman　lantern；　the　Reverend　Buck　across　from　him。　It　was　almost　midnight；　but　he　wasn't　the　least　bit　sleepy。　The　day　before；　he　had　filed　a　crackerjack　story；　about　the　failed　attempt　to　arrest　Buck。　He　had　pieced　it　together　from　a　half　dozen　witnesses；　and　it　was　juicy：　the　swaggering　police　captain　ing　in　to　arrest　Buck；　how　he'd　panicked　and　run；　leaving　it　to　the　other　captain…a　woman…to　straighten　things　out。　Great　copy。　In　the　long　run；　it　might　turn　out　to　be　more　than　just　great　copy：　he'd　begun　putting　out　feelers　at　theTimes　；　and　they　seemed　receptive　to　a　job　interview。　This　new　article　would　be　gravy。　And　thanks　to　Buck；　he　was　now　the　only　journalist　allowed　in　the　tent　city。　With　this　second　piece　appearing　hot　on　the　heels　of　the　first；　he　was　going　to　score　a　double　whammy。　And　he　would　be　there　tomorrow；　too；　just　in　case　there　was　a　showdown　with　New　York's　finest。　
　Judging　from　the　mood　in　the　camp；　it　was　going　to　be　a　mess。　Since　the　botched　arrest；　the　whole　place　had　been　on　edge；　restless；　belligerent；　like　a　powder　keg　ready　to　go。　Even　at　midnight；　more　than　a　day　after　the　would…be　raid；　everyone　was　still　awake；　the　prayers　and　camp　meetings　sounding　shrilly　through　the　darkness。　A　lot　of　the　kids　he'd　noticed　on　his　first　visit　to　the　tent　city　were　gone…a　night　or　two　of　sleeping　on　the　hard　ground；　without　an　Internet　connection　or　cable　TV；　had　sent　them　scurrying　home　to　their　fy　suburbs。　What　remained　was　the　hard…core　element；　the　real　zealots。　And　there　was　no　shortage　of　those：　there　had　to　be　at　least　three　hundred　tents　here。　
　Buck　himself　was　different。　Gone　was　the　flicker　of　uncertainty；　the　faint　aura　of　surprise　and　wonder　that　he　had　possessed　before。　Now　he　seemed　almost　transcendentally　calm　and　assured。　When　he　looked　at　Harriman；　it　was　as　if　he　was　looking　right　through　him　to　another　world。　
　〃Well；　Mr。　Harriman；〃　he　was　saying；　〃have　you　gotten　what　you　came　for？　It's　almost　midnight；　and　I　usually　deliver　a　message　to　the　people　before　retiring。〃　
　〃Just　one　ot