pgw.uneasymoney-第31节

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ric…light　switch。　When　there　was　need　to　illuminate　it　an　oil　lamp　performed　the　duty。　This　occurred　to　Mr　Pickering　after　he　had　been　round　the　place　three　times；　and　he　ceased　to　grope　for　a　switch　and　began　to　seek　for　a　match…box。　He　was　still　seeking　it　when　he　was　frozen　in　his　tracks　by　the　sound　of　footsteps；　muffled　but　by　their　nearness　audible；　just　outside　the　door。　He　pulled　out　his　pistol；　which　he　had　replaced　in　his　pocket；　backed　against　the　wall；　and　stood　there　prepared　to　sell　his　life　dearly。
　The　door　opened。
　One　reads　of　desperate　experiences　ageing　people　in　a　single　night。　His　present　predicament　aged　Mr　Pickering　in　a　single　minute。　In　the　brief　interval　of　time　between　the　opening　of　the　door　and　the　moment　when　a　voice　outside　began　to　speak　he　became　a　full　thirty　years　older。　His　boyish　ardour　slipped　from　him；　and　he　was　once　more　the　Dudley　Pickering　whom　the　world　knew；　the　staid　and　respectable　middle…aged　man　of　affairs；　who　would　have　given　a　million　dollars　not　to　have　got　himself　mixed　up　in　this　deplorable　business。
　And　then　the　voice　spoke。　　'I'll　light　the　lamp；'　it　said；　and　with　an　overpowering　feeling　of　relief　Mr　Pickering　recognized　it　as　Lord　Wetherby's。　A　moment　later　the　temperamental　peer's　dapper　figure　became　visible　in　silhouette　against　a　background　of　pale　light。
　'Ah…hum！'　said　Mr　Pickering。
　The　effect　on　Lord　Wetherby　was　remarkable。　To　hear　some　one　clear　his　throat　at　the　back　of　a　dark　room；　where　there　should　rightfully　be　no　throat　to　be　cleared；　would　cause　even　your　man　of　stolid　habit　a　passing　thrill。　The　thing　got　right　in　among　Lord　Wetherby's　highly　sensitive　ganglions　like　an　earthquake。　He　uttered　a　strangled　cry；　then　dashed　out　and　slammed　the　door　behind　him。
　'There's　someone　in　there！'
　Lady　Wetherby's　tranquil　voice　made　itself　heard。
　'Nonsense；　who　could　be　in　there？'
　'I　heard　him；　I　tell　you。　He　growled　at　me！'
　It　seemed　to　Mr　Pickering　that　the　time　had　e　to　relieve　the　mental　distress　which　he　was　causing　his　host。　He　raised　his　voice。
　'It's　all　right！'　he　called。
　'There！'　said　Lord　Wetherby。
　'Who's　that？'　asked　Lady　Wetherby；　through　the　door。
　'It's　all　right。　It's　mePickering。'
　The　door　was　opened　a　few　inches　by　a　cautious　hand。
　'Is　that　you；　Pickering？'
　'Yes。　It's　all　right。'
　'Don't　keep　saying　it's　all　right；'　said　Lord　Wetherby；　irritably。　'It　isn't　all　right。　What　do　you　mean　by　hiding　in　the　dark　and　popping　out　and　barking　at　a　man？　You　made　me　bite　my　tongue。　I've　never　had　such　a　shock　in　my　life。'
　Mr　Pickering　left　his　lair　and　came　out　into　the　open。　Lord　Wetherby　was　looking　aggrieved；　Lady　Wetherby　peacefully　inquisitive。　For　the　first　time　Mr　Pickering　discovered　that　Claire　was　present。　She　was　standing　behind　Lady　Wetherby　with　a　floating　white　something　over　her　head；　looking　very　beautiful。
　'For　the　love　of　Mike！'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　Mr　Pickering　became　aware　that　he　was　still　holding　the　revolver。
　'Oh；　ah！'　he　said；　and　pocketed　the　weapon。
　'Barking　at　people！'　muttered　Lord　Wetherby　in　a　querulous　undertone。
　'What　on　earth　are　you　doing；　Dudley？'　said　Claire。
　There　was　a　note　in　her　voice　which　both　puzzled　and　pained　Mr　Pickering；　a　note　that　seemed　to　suggest　that　she　found　herself　in　imperfect　sympathy　with　him。　Her　expression　deepened　the　suggestion。　It　was　a　cold　expression；　unfriendly；　as　if　it　was　not　so　keen　a　pleasure　to　Claire　to　look　at　him　as　it　should　be　for　a　girl　to　look　at　the　man　whom　she　is　engaged　to　marry。　He　had　noticed　the　same　note　in　her　voice　and　the　same　hostile　look　in　her　eye　earlier　in　the　evening。　He　had　found　her　alone；　reading　a　letter　which；　as　the　stamp　on　the　envelope　showed；　had　e　from　England。　She　had　seemed　so　upset　that　he　had　asked　her　if　it　contained　bad　news；　and　she　had　replied　in　the　negative　with　so　much　irritation　that　he　had　desisted　from　inquiries。　But　his　own　idea　was　that　she　had　had　bad　news　from　home。　Mr　Pickering　still　clung　to　his　early　impression　that　her　little　brother　Percy　was　consumptive；　and　he　thought　the　child　must　have　taken　a　turn　for　the　worse。　It　was　odd　that　she　should　have　looked　and　spoken　like　that　then；　and　it　was　odd　that　she　should　look　and　speak　like　that　now。　He　had　been　vaguely　disturbed　then　and　he　was　vaguely　disturbed　now。　He　had　the　feeling　that　all　was　not　well。
　'Yes；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。　'What　on　earth　are　you　doing；　Dudley？'
　'Popping　out！'　grumbled　Lord　Wetherby。
　'We　came　here　to　see　Algie's　picture；　which　has　got　something　wrong　with　its　eyes　apparently；　and　we　find　you　hiding　in　the　dark　with　a　gun。　What's　the　idea？'
　'It's　a　long　story；'　said　Mr　Pickering。
　'We　have　the　night　before　us；'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　'You　remember　The　Manthe　fellow　I　found　looking　in　at　the　window；　The　Man　who　said　he　knew　Claire？'
　'You've　got　that　man　on　the　brain；　Dudley。　What's　he　been　doing　to　you　now？'
　'I　tracked　him　here。'
　'Tracked　him？　Where　from？'
　'From　that　bee…farm　place　where　he's　living。　He　and　that　girl　you　spoke　of　went　into　these　woods。　I　thought　they　were　making　for　the　house；　but　they　went　into　the　shack。'
　'What　did　they　do　then？'　asked　Lady　Wetherby
　'They　came　out　again。'
　'Why？'
　'That's　what　I　was　trying　to　find　out。'
　Lord　Wetherby　uttered　an　exclamation。
　'By　Jove！'　There　was　apprehension　in　his　voice；　but　mingled　with　it　a　certain　pleased　surprise。　'Perhaps　they　were　after　my　picture。　I'll　light　the　lamp。　Good　Lord；　picture　thievesRomneys　missing　Gainsboroughs'　His　voice　trailed　off　as　he　found　the　lamp　and　lit　it。　Relief　and　disappointment　were　nicely　blended　in　his　next　words：　'No；　it's　still　there。'
　The　soft　light　of　the　lamp　filled　the　studio。
　'Well；　that's　a　fort；'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　sauntering　in。　'We　couldn't　afford　to　loseOh！'
　Lord　Wetherby　spun　round　as　her　scream　burst　upon　his　already　tortured　nerve　centres。　Lady　Wetherby　was　kneeling　on　the　floor。　Claire　hurried　in。
　'What　is　it；　Polly？'
　Lady　Wetherby　rose　to　her　feet；　and　pointed。　Her　face　had　lost　its　look　of　patient　amusement。　It　was　hard　and　set。　She　eyed　Mr　Pickering　in　a　menacing　way。
　'Look！'
　Claire　followed　her　finger。
　'Good　gracious！　It's　Eustace！'
　'Shot！'
　She　was　looking　intently　at　Mr　Pickering。　'Well；　Dudley；'　she　said；　coldly；　'what　about　it？'
　Mr　Pickering　found　that　they　were　all　looking　at　himLady　Wetherby　with　glittering　eyes；　Claire　with　cool　scorn；　Lord　Wetherby　with　a　horror　which　he　seemed　to　have　achieved　with　something　of　an　effort。
　'Well！'　said　Claire。
　'What　about　it；　Dudley？'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　'I　must　say；　Pickering；'　said　Lord　Wetherby；　'much　as　I　disliked　the　animal；　it's　a　bit　thick！'
　Mr　Pickering　recoiled　from　their　accusing　gaze。
　'Good　heavens！　Do　you　think　I　did　it？'
　In　the　midst　of　his　anguish　there　flashed　across　his　mind　the　recollection　of　having　seen　just　this　sort　of　situation　in　a　moving　picture；　and　of　having　thought　it　far…fetched。
　Lady　Wetherby's　good…tempered　mouth；　far　from　good…tempered　now；　curled　in　a　devastating　sneer。　She　was　looking　at　him　as　Claire；　in　the　old　days　when　they　had　toured　England　together　in　road　panies；　had　sometimes　seen　her　look　at　recalcitrant　landladies。　The　landladies；　without　exception；　had　wilted　beneath　that　gaze；　and　Mr　Pickering　wilted　now。
　'Butbutbut'　was　all　he　could　contrive　to　say。
　'Why　should　we　think　you　did　it？'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　bitterly。　'You　had　a　grudge　against　the　poor　brute　for　biting　you。　We　find　you　hiding　here　with　a　pistol　and　a　story　about　burglars　which　an　infant　couldn't　swallow。　I　suppose　you　thought　that；　if　you　planted　the　poor　creature's　body　here；　it　would　be　up　to　Algie　to　get　rid　of　it；　and　that　if　he　were　found　with　it　I　should　think　that　it　was　he　who　had　killed　the　animal。'
　The　look　of　horror　which　Lord　Wetherby　had　managed　to　assume　became　genuine　at　these　words。　The　gratitude　which　he　had　been　feeling　towards　Mr　Pickering　for　having　removed　one　of　the　chief　trials　of　his　existence　vanished。
　'Great　Scot！'　he　cried。　'So　that　was　the　game；　was　it？'
　Mr　Pickering　struggled　for　speech。　This　was　a　nightmare。
　'But　I　didn't！　I　didn't！　I　didn't！　I　tell　you　I　hadn't　the　remotest　notion　the　creature　was　there。'
　'Oh；　e；　Pickering！'　said　Lord　Wetherby。　'e；　e；　e！'
　Mr　Pickering　found　that　his　accusers　were　ebbing　away。　Lady　Wetherby　had　gone。　Claire　had　gone。　Only　Lord　Wetherby　remained；　looking　at　him　like　a　pained　groom。　He　dashed　from　the　place　and　followed　his　hostess；　speaking　incoherently　of　burglars；　outhouses；　and　misunderstandings。　He　even　mentioned　Chingachgook。　But　Lady　Wetherby　would　not　listen。　Nobody　would　listen。
　He　found　Lord　Wetherby　at　his　side；　evidently　prepared　to　go　deeper　into　the　subject。　Lord　Wetherby　was　looking　now　like　a　groom　whose　favourite　horse　has　kicked　him　in　the　stomach。
　'Wouldn't　have　thought　it　of　you；　Pickering；'　said　Lord　Wetherby。　Mr　Pickering　found　no　words。　'Wouldn't；　honestly。　Low　trick！'
　'But　I　tell　you'
　'Devilish　low　trick！'　repeated　Lord　Wetherby；　with　a　shake　of　the　head。　'Laws　of　hospitalityeaten　our　bread　and　salt；　what！all　that　sort　of　thingkill　valuable　monkeynot　done；　you　knowlow；　very　low！'
　And　he　followed　his　wife；　now　in　full　retreat；　with　scorn　a