preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第77节

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st　endearing。　She　thought　back　to　how　he'd　dressed　up　as　a　bum　to　help　her　retrieve　the　old　dress　from　the　excavation；　how　he'd　e　to　warn　her　after　Pendergast　was　stabbed。　When　push　came　to　shove；　he　was　there。　She　had　been　awfully　hard　on　him。　But　it　was　too　late　to　be　sorry。　She　suppressed　a　sob　of　bitter　regret。
　They　moved　past　guttered　mansions　and　once　elegant　townhouses；　now　festering　crack　dens　and　shooting　galleries　for　junkies。　Pendergast　gave　each　building　a　searching　look；　always　turning　away　with　a　little　shake　of　his　head。
　Nora's　thoughts　flitted　briefly　to　Leng　himself。　It　seemed　impossible　that　he　could　still　be　alive；　concealed　within　one　of　these　crumbling　dwellings。　She　glanced　up　the　Drive　again。　She　had　to　concentrate；　try　to　pick　his　house　out　from　the　others。　Wherever　he　lived；　it　would　be　fortable。　A　man　who　had　lived　over　a　hundred　and　fifty　years　would　be　excessively　concerned　with　fort。　But　it　would　no　doubt　give　the　surface　impression　of　being　abandoned。　And　it　would　be　well…nigh　impregnable…Leng　wouldn't　want　any　unexpected　visitors。　This　was　the　perfect　neighborhood　for　such　a　place：　abandoned；　yet　once　elegant；　externally　shabby；　yet　livable　inside；　boarded　up；　very　private。
　The　trouble　was；　so　many　of　the　buildings　met　those　criteria。
　Then；　near　the　corner　of　138th　Street；　Pendergast　stopped　dead。　He　turned；　slowly；　to　face　yet　another　abandoned　building。　It　was　a　large；　decayed　mansion；　a　hulking　shadow　of　bygone　glory；　set　back　from　the　street　by　a　small　service　drive。　Like　many　others；　the　first　floor　had　been　securely　boarded　up　with　tin。　It　looked　just　like　a　dozen　other　buildings　they　had　passed。　And　yet　Pendergast　was　staring　at　it　with　an　expression　of　intentness　Nora　had　not　seen　before。
　Silently；　he　turned　the　corner　of　138th　Street。　Nora　followed；　watching　him。　The　FBI　agent　moved　slowly；　eyes　mostly　on　the　ground；　with　just　occasional　darted　glances　up　at　the　building。　They　continued　down　the　block　until　they　reached　the　corner　of　Broadway。　The　moment　they　turned　the　corner；　Pendergast　spoke。
　〃That's　it。〃
　〃How　do　you　know？〃
　〃The　crest　carved　on　the　escutcheon　over　the　door。　Three　apothecary　balls　over　a　sprig　of　hemlock。〃　He　waved　his　hand。　〃Forgive　me　if　I　reserve　explanations　for　later。　Follow　my　lead。　And　be　very；　very　careful。〃
　He　continued　around　the　block　until　they　reached　the　corner　of　Riverside　Drive　and　137th。　Nora　looked　at　the　building　with　a　mixture　of　curiosity；　apprehension；　and　outright　fear。　It　was　a　large；　four…story；　brick…and…stone　structure　that　occupied　the　entire　short　block。　Its　frontage　was　enclosed　in　a　wrought　iron　fence；　ivy　covering　the　rusty　pointed　rails。　The　garden　within　was　long　gone；　taken　over　by　weeds；　bushes；　and　garbage。　A　carriage　drive　circled　the　rear　of　the　house；　exiting　on　138th　Street。　Though　the　lower　windows　were　securely　boarded　over；　the　upper　courses　remained　unblocked；　although　at　least　one　window　on　the　second　story　was　broken。　She　stared　up　at　the　crest　Pendergast　had　mentioned。　An　inscription　in　Greek　ran　around　its　edge。
　A　gust　of　wind　rustled　the　bare　limbs　in　the　yard；　the　reflected　moon；　the　scudding　clouds；　flickered　in　the　glass　panes　of　the　upper　stories。　The　place　looked　haunted。
　Pendergast　ducked　into　the　carriage　drive；　Nora　following　close　behind。　The　agent　kicked　aside　some　garbage　with　his　shoe　and；　after　a　quick　look　around；　stepped　up　to　a　solid　oak　door　set　into　deep　shadow　beneath　the　porte…cochère。　It　seemed　to　Nora　as　if　Pendergast　merely　caressed　the　lock；　and　then　the　door　opened　silently　on　well…oiled　hinges。
　They　stepped　quickly　inside。　Pendergast　eased　the　door　closed；　and　Nora　heard　the　sound　of　a　lock　clicking。　A　moment　of　intense　darkness　while　they　stood　still；　listening　for　any　sounds　from　within。　The　old　house　was　silent。　After　a　minute；　the　yellow　line　of　Pendergast's　hooded　flashlight　appeared；　scanning　the　room　around　them。
　They　were　standing　in　a　small　entryway。　The　floor　was　polished　marble；　and　the　walls　were　papered　in　heavy　velvet　fabric。　Dust　covered　everything。　Pendergast　stood　still；　directing　his　light　at　a　series　of　footprints…some　shod；　some　stockinged…that　had　disturbed　the　dust　on　the　floor。　He　looked　at　them　for　so　long；　studying　them　as　an　art　student　studies　an　old　master；　that　Nora　felt　impatience　begin　to　overwhelm　her。　At　last　he　led　the　way；　slowly；　through　the　room　and　down　a　short　passage　leading　into　a　large；　long　hall。　It　was　paneled　in　a　very　rich；　dense　wood；　and　the　low　ceiling　was　intricately　worked；　a　blend　of　the　gothic　and　austere。
　This　hall　was　full　of　an　odd　assortment　of　displays　Nora　was　unable　to　prehend：　weird　tables；　cabinets；　large　boxes；　iron　cages；　strange　apparatus。
　〃A　magician's　warehouse；〃　Pendergast　murmured　in　answer　to　her　unspoken　question。
　They　passed　through　the　room；　beneath　an　archway；　and　into　a　grand　reception　hall。　Once　again；　Pendergast　stopped　to　study　several　lines　of　footprints　that　crossed　and　recrossed　the　parquet　floor。
　〃Barefoot；　now；〃　she　heard　him　say　to　himself。　〃And　this　time；　he　was　running。〃
　He　quickly　probed　the　immense　space　with　his　beam。　Nora　saw　an　astonishing　range　of　objects：　mounted　skeletons；　fossils；　glass…fronted　cabinets　full　of　wondrous　and　terrible　artifacts；　gems；　skulls；　meteorites；　iridescent　beetles。　The　flashlight　played　briefly　over　all。　The　scent　of　cobwebs；　leather；　and　old　buckram　hung　heavy　in　the　thick　air；　veiling　a　fainter…and　much　less　pleasant…smell。
　〃What　is　this　place？〃　Nora　asked。
　〃Leng's　cabinet　of　curiosities。〃　A　two…toned　pistol　had　appeared　in　Pendergast's　left　hand。　The　stench　was　worse　now；　sickly　sweet；　oily；　that　filled　the　air　like　a　wet　fog；　clinging　to　her　hair；　limbs；　clothes。
　He　moved　forward；　warily；　his　light　playing　off　the　various　objects　in　the　room。　Some　of　the　objects　were　uncovered；　but　most　were　draped。　The　walls　were　lined　with　glass　cases；　and　Pendergast　moved　toward　them；　his　flashlight　licking　from　one　to　the　next。　The　glass　sparked　and　shimmered　as　the　beam　hit　it；　dark　shadows；　thrown　from　the　objects　within；　reared　forward　as　if　living　things。
　Suddenly；　the　beam　stopped　dead。　Nora　watched　as　Pendergast's　pale　face　lost　what　little　color　it　normally　had。　For　a　moment；　he　simply　stared；　motionless；　not　even　seeming　to　draw　breath。　Then；　very　slowly；　he　approached　the　case。　The　beam　of　the　flashlight　trembled　a　bit　as　he　moved。　Nora　followed；　wondering　what　had　had　such　a　galvanic　effect　on　the　agent。
　The　glass　case　was　not　like　the　rest。　It　did　not　contain　a　skeleton；　stuffed　trophy；　or　carven　image。　Instead；　behind　the　glass　stood　the　figure　of　a　dead　man；　legs　and　arms　strapped　upright　between　crude　iron　bars　and　cuffs；　mounted　as　if　for　museum　display。　The　man　was　dressed　in　severe　black；　with　a　nineteenth…century　frock　coat　and　striped　pants。
　〃Who…？〃　Nora　managed　to　say。
　But　Pendergast　was　transfixed；　hearing　nothing；　his　face　rigid。　All　his　attention　was　concentrated　on　the　mounted　man。　The　light　played　mercilessly　about　the　corpse。　It　lingered　for　a　long　time　on　one　particular　detail…a　pallid　hand；　the　flesh　shrunken　and　shriveled；　a　single　knucklebone　poking　from　a　tear　in　the　rotten　flesh。
　Nora　stared　at　the　exposed　knuckle；　red　and　ivory　against　the　parchment　skin。　With　a　nauseous　lurch　in　the　pit　of　her　stomach；　she　realized　that　the　hand　was　missing　all　its　fingernails；　that；　in　fact；　nothing　remained　of　the　fingertips　but　bloody　stumps；　punctuated　by　protruding　bones。
　Then…slowly；　inexorably…the　light　began　traveling　up　the　front　of　the　corpse。　The　beam　rose　past　the　buttons　of　the　coat；　up　the　starched　shirtfront；　before　at　last　stopping　on　the　face。
　It　was　mummified；　shrunken；　wizened。　And　yet　it　was　surprisingly　well　preserved；　all　the　features　modeled　as　finely　as　if　carved　from　stone。　The　lips；　which　had　dried　and　shriveled；　were　drawn　back　in　a　rictus　of　merriment；　exposing　two　beautiful　rows　of　white　teeth。　Only　the　eyes　were　gone：　empty　sockets　like　bottomless　pools　no　light　could　illuminate。
　There　was　a　hollow；　muffled　sound　of　rustling　ing　from　inside　the　skull。
　The　journey　through　the　house　had　already　numbed　Nora　with　horror。　But　now　her　mind　went　blank　with　an　even　worse　shock：　the　shock　of　recognition。
　She　automatically　turned；　speechless；　to　Pendergast。　His　frame　remained　rigid；　his　eyes　wide　and　staring。　Whatever　it　was　he　had　expected　to　find；　it　was　not　this。
　She　shifted　her　horrified　gaze　back　at　the　corpse。　Even　in　death；　there　could　be　no　question。　The　corpse　had　the　same　marble…colored　skin；　the　same　refined　features；　the　same　thin　lips　and　aquiline　nose；　the　same　high　smooth　forehead　and　delicate　chin；　the　same　fine　pale　hair…as　Pendergast　himself。
　
　SIX
　　
　CUSTER　OBSERVED　THE　perp…　he'd　already　begun　to　call　him　that…with　deep　satisfaction。　The　man　stood　in　his　office；　hands　cuffed　behind　him；　black　tie　askew　and　white　shirt　rumpled；　hair　disheveled；　dark　circles　of　sweat　beneath　his　armpits。　How　are　the　mighty　fallen；　indeed。　He'd　held　out　a　long　time；　kept　up　that　arrogant；　impatient　facade。　But　now；　the　eyes　were　red；　the　lips　trembling。　He　hadn't　believed　it　was　really　going　to　happen　to　him。　It　was　the　cuffs　that　did　it；　Custer　thought　kno