preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第68节

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　There　was　no　response。
　〃Are　you　the　caretaker？〃　He　gave　a　strained　laugh。　〃Can　you　believe　it？　I've　locked　myself　in。〃
　Again；　silence。
　Perhaps　the　voice　had　been　his　imagination。　God　knows；　he'd　seen　enough　in　this　house　to　cure　him　of　ever　wanting　to　watch　another　horror　movie。
　He　tried　again。　〃Well；　all　I　can　say　is；　I'm　glad　you　happened　by。　If　you　could　help　me　find　my　way　to　the　door…〃
　The　sentence　was　choked　off　by　an　involuntary　spasm　of　fright。
　A　figure　had　stepped　out　into　the　dim　light。　It　was　muffled　in　a　long　dark　coat；　features　in　deep　shadow　under　a　derby　hat。　In　one　upraised　hand　was　a　heavy；　old…fashioned　scalpel。　The　razor　edge　gleamed　faintly　as　the　man　turned　it　slowly；　almost　lovingly；　between　slender　fingers。　In　the　other　hand；　a　hypodermic　syringe　winked　and　glimmered。
　〃An　unexpected　pleasure　to　see　you　here；〃　the　figure　said　in　a　low；　dry　voice　as　he　caressed　the　scalpel。　〃But　convenient。　In　fact；　you've　arrived　just　in　time。〃
　Some　primitive　instinct　of　self…preservation；　stronger　even　than　the　horror　that　had　seized　him；　spurred　Smithback　into　action。　He　spun　and　ran。　But　it　was　so　dark；　and　the　figure　moved　so　blindingly　fast　。　。　。
　　
　Later…he　didn't　know　how　much　later…Smithback　woke　up。　There　was　a　torpor；　and　a　strange；　languorous　kind　of　confusion。　He'd　had　a　dream；　a　terrible　dream；　he　remembered；　but　it　was　over　now　and　everything　was　fine；　he　would　wake　to　a　beautiful　fall　morning；　the　hideous　fragmented　memories　of　the　nightmare　melting　away　into　his　subconscious。　He'd　rise；　dress；　have　his　usual　breakfast　of　red　flannel　hash　at　his　favorite　Greek　coffeeshop；　and　slowly　take　on　once　again；　as　he　did　every　morning；　his　mundane；　workaday　life。
　But　as　his　mind　gradually　grew　more　alert；　he　realized　that　the　broken　memories；　the　horrible　hinted　fragments；　were　not　evaporating。　He　had　somehow　been　caught。　In　the　dark。　In　Leng's　house。
　Leng's　house　。　。　。
　He　shook　his　head。　It　throbbed　violently　at　the　movement。
　The　man　in　the　derby　hat　was　the　Surgeon。　In　Leng's　house。
　Suddenly；　Smithback　was　struck　dumb　by　shock　and　fear。　Of　all　the　terrible　thoughts　that　darted　through　his　mind　at　that　terrible　moment；　one　stood　out　from　the　rest：　Pendergast　was　right。　Pendergast　was　right　all　along。
　Enoch　Leng　was　still　alive。
　It　was　Leng　himself　who　was　the　Surgeon。
　And　Smithback　had　walked　right　into　his　house。
　That　noise　he　was　hearing；　that　hideous　gasping；　was　his　own　hyperventilation；　the　suck　of　air　through　tape　covering　his　mouth。　He　forced　himself　to　slow　down；　to　take　stock。　There　was　a　strong　smell　of　mold　around　him；　and　it　was　pitch　black。　The　air　was　cold；　damp。　The　pain　in　his　head　increased。　Smithback　moved　his　arm　toward　his　forehead；　felt　it　stop　abruptly…felt　the　tug　of　an　iron　cuff　around　his　wrist；　heard　the　clank　of　a　chain。　What　the　hell　was　this？
　His　heart　began　to　race；　faster　and　faster；　as　one　by　one　the　holes　in　his　memory　filled：　the　endless　echoing　rooms；　the　voice　from　the　darkness；　the　man　stepping　out　of　the　shadows　。　。　。　the　glittering　scalpel。　Oh；　God；　was　it　really　Leng？　After　130　years？　Leng？
　He　tried　to　stand　in　automatic　groggy　panic　but　fell　back　again　immediately；　to　a　chorus　of　clinks　and　clatterings。　He　was　stark　naked；　chained　to　the　ground　by　his　arms　and　legs；　his　mouth　sealed　with　heavy　tape。
　This　couldn't　be　happening。　Oh；　Jesus；　this　was　insane。
　He　hadn't　told　anyone　he　was　ing　up　here。　Nobody　knew　where　he　was。　Nobody　even　knew　he　was　missing。　If　only　he'd　told　someone；　the　pool　secretary；　O'Shaughnessy；　his　great…grandfather；　his　half…sister；　anyone　。　。　。
　He　lay　back；　head　pounding；　hyperventilating　again；　heart　battering　in　his　rib　cage。
　He　had　been　drugged　and　chained　by　the　man　in　black…the　man　in　the　derby　hat。　That　much　was　clear。　The　same　man　who　tried　to　kill　Pendergast；　no　doubt；　the　same　man；　probably；　who　had　killed　Puck　and　the　others。　The　Surgeon。　He　was　in　the　dungeon　of　the　Surgeon。
　The　Surgeon。　Professor　Enoch　Leng。
　The　sound　of　a　footfall　brought　him　to　full　alertness。　There　was　a　scraping　noise；　then　a　painfully　bright　rectangle　of　light　appeared　in　the　wall　of　darkness　ahead。　In　the　reflected　light；　Smithback　could　see　he　was　in　a　small　basement　room　with　a　cement　floor；　stone　walls　and　an　iron　door。　He　felt　a　surge　of　hope；　even　gratitude。
　A　pair　of　moist　lips　appeared　at　the　iron　opening。　They　moved。
　〃Please　do　not　dispose　yourself；〃　came　the　voice。　〃All　this　will　be　over　soon。　Struggle　is　unnecessary。〃
　There　was　something　almost　familiar　in　that　voice；　and　yet　inexpressibly　strange　and　terrible；　like　the　whispered　tones　of　nightmare。
　The　slot　slid　shut；　leaving　Smithback　in　darkness　once　more。
　
　All　those　Dreadful　Little　Cuts
　
　ONE
　　
　THE　BIG　ROLLS…ROYCE　glided　its　way　along　the　one…lane　road　that　crossed　Little　Governors　Island。　Fog　lay　thick　in　the　marshes　and　hollows；　obscuring　the　surrounding　East　River　and　the　ramparts　of　Manhattan　that　lay　beyond。　The　headlights　slid　past　a　row　of　ancient；　long…dead　chestnut　trees；　then　striped　their　way　across　heavy　wrought　iron　gates。　As　the　car　stopped；　the　lights　came　to　rest　on　a　bronze　plaque：　Mount　Mercy　Hospital　for　the　Criminally　Insane。
　A　security　guard　stepped　out　of　a　booth　into　the　glare　and　approached　the　car。　He　was　heavyset；　tall；　friendly　looking。　Pendergast　lowered　the　rear　window　and　the　man　leaned　inside。
　〃Visiting　hours　are　over；〃　he　said。
　Pendergast　reached　into　his　jacket；　removed　his　shield　wallet；　opened　it　for　the　guard。
　The　man　gave　it　a　long　look；　and　then　nodded；　as　if　it　was　all　in　a　day's　work。
　〃And　how　may　we　help　you；　Special　Agent　Pendergast？〃
　〃I'm　here　to　see　a　patient。〃
　〃And　the　name　of　the　patient？〃
　〃Pendergast。　Miss　Cornelia　Delamere　Pendergast。〃
　There　was　a　short；　unfortable　silence。
　〃Is　this　official　law　enforcement　business？〃　The　security　guard　didn't　sound　quite　so　friendly　anymore。
　〃It　is。〃
　〃All　right。　I'll　call　up　to　the　big　house。　Dr。　Ostrom　is　on　duty　tonight。　You　can　park　your　car　in　the　official　slot　to　the　left　of　the　main　door。　They'll　be　waiting　for　you　in　reception。〃
　Within　a　few　minutes　Pendergast　was　following　the　well…groomed；　fastidious…looking　Dr。　Ostrom　down　a　long；　echoing　corridor。　Two　guards　walked　in　front；　and　two　behind。　Fancy　wainscoting　and　decorative　molding　could　still　be　glimpsed　along　the　corridor；　hidden　beneath　innumerable　layers　of　institutional　paint。　A　century　before；　in　the　days　when　consumption　ravaged　all　classes　of　New　York　society；　Mount　Mercy　Hospital　had　been　a　grand　sanatorium；　catering　to　the　tubercular　offspring　of　the　rich。　Now；　thanks　in　part　to　its　insular　location；　it　had　bee　a　high…security　facility　for　people　who　had　mitted　heinous　crimes　but　were　found　not　guilty　by　reason　of　insanity。
　〃How　is　she？〃　Pendergast　asked。
　There　was　a　slight　hesitation　in　the　doctor's　answer。　〃About　the　same；〃　he　said。
　They　stopped　at　last　in　front　of　a　thick　steel　door；　a　single　barred　window　sunk　into　its　face。　One　of　the　forward　guards　unlocked　the　door；　then　stood　outside　with　his　partner　while　the　other　two　guards　followed　Pendergast　within。
　They　were　standing　in　a　small　〃quiet　room〃　almost　devoid　of　decoration。　No　pictures　hung　on　the　lightly　padded　walls。　There　was　a　plastic　sofa；　a　pair　of　plastic　chairs；　a　single　table。　Everything　was　bolted　to　the　floor。　There　was　no　clock；　and　the　sole　fluorescent　ceiling　light　was　hidden　behind　heavy　wire　mesh。　There　was　nothing　that　could　be　used　as　a　weapon；　or　to　assist　a　suicide。　In　the　far　wall　stood　another　steel　door；　even　thicker；　without　a　window。　Warning：　Risk　of　Elopement　was　posted　above　it　in　large　letters。
　Pendergast　took　a　seat　in　one　of　the　plastic　chairs；　and　crossed　his　legs。
　The　two　forward　attendants　disappeared　through　the　inner　door。　For　a　few　minutes　the　small　room　fell　into　silence；　punctuated　only　by　the　faint　sounds　of　screams　and　an　even　fainter；　rhythmic　pounding。　And　then；　louder　and　much　nearer；　came　the　shrill　protesting　voice　of　an　old　woman。　The　door　opened；　and　one　of　the　guards　pushed　a　wheelchair　into　the　room。　The　chair's　five…point　leather　restraint　was　almost　invisible　beneath　the　heavy　layer　of　rubber　that　covered　every　metal　surface。
　In　the　chair；　securely　bound　by　the　restraints；　sat　a　prim；　elderly　dowager。　She　was　wearing　a　long；　old…fashioned　black　taffeta　dress；　Victorian　button…up　shoes；　and　a　black　mourning　veil。　When　she　saw　Pendergast　her　plaints　abruptly　ceased。
　〃Raise　my　veil；〃　she　manded。　One　of　the　guards　lifted　it　from　her　face；　and；　standing　well　away；　laid　it　down　her　back。
　The　woman　stared　at　Pendergast；　her　palsied；　liver…spotted　face　trembling　slightly。
　Pendergast　turned　to　Dr。　Ostrom。　〃Will　you　kindly　leave　us　alone？〃
　〃Someone　must　remain；〃　said　Ostrom。　〃And　please　give　the　patient　some　distance；　Mr。　Pendergast。〃
　〃The　last　time　I　visited；　I　was　allowed　a　private　moment　with　my　great…aunt。〃
　〃If　you　will　recall；　Mr。　Pendergast；　the　last　time　you　visited…〃　Ostrom　began　rather　sharply。
　Pendergast　held　up　his　hand。　〃So　be　it。〃
　〃This　is　a　rather　late　hour　to　be　visiting。　How　much　time　do　you　need？〃
　〃Fifteen　minutes。〃
　〃Very　well。〃　The　doctor　nodded　to　the