the clue of the twisted candle-第1节

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The　Clue　of　the　Twisted　Candle

by　Edgar　Wallace





CHAPTER　I


The　4。15　from　Victoria　to　Lewes　had　been　held　up　at　Three　Bridges　in　consequence　of　a　derailment　and；　though　John　Lexman　was　fortunate　enough　to　catch　a　belated　connection　to　Beston　Tracey；　the　wagonette　which　was　the　sole　communication　between　the　village　and　the　outside　world　had　gone。

〃If　you　can　wait　half　an　hour；　Mr。　Lexman；〃　said　the　station…master；　〃I　will　telephone　up　to　the　village　and　get　Briggs　to　come　down　for　you。〃

John　Lexman　looked　out　upon　the　dripping　landscape　and　shrugged　his　shoulders。

〃I'll　walk；〃　he　said　shortly　and；　leaving　his　bag　in　the　station…master's　care　and　buttoning　his　mackintosh　to　his　chin；　he　stepped　forth　resolutely　into　the　rain　to　negotiate　the　two　miles　which　separated　the　tiny　railway　station　from　Little　Tracey。

The　downpour　was　incessant　and　likely　to　last　through　the　night。　The　high　hedges　on　either　side　of　the　narrow　road　were　so　many　leafy　cascades；　the　road　itself　was　in　places　ankle　deep　in　mud。　He　stopped　under　the　protecting　cover　of　a　big　tree　to　fill　and　light　his　pipe　and　with　its　bowl　turned　downwards　continued　his　walk。　　But　for　the　driving　rain　which　searched　every　crevice　and　found　every　chink　in　his　waterproof　armor；　he　preferred；　indeed　welcomed；　the　walk。

The　road　from　Beston　Tracey　to　Little　Beston　was　associated　in　his　mind　with　some　of　the　finest　situations　in　his　novels。　　It　was　on　this　road　that　he　had　conceived　〃The　Tilbury　Mystery。〃　Between　the　station　and　the　house　he　had　woven　the　plot　which　had　made　〃Gregory　Standish〃　the　most　popular　detective　story　of　the　year。　For　John　Lexman　was　a　maker　of　cunning　plots。

If；　in　the　literary　world；　he　was　regarded　by　superior　persons　as　a　writer　of　〃shockers；〃　he　had　a　large　and　increasing　public　who　were　fascinated　by　the　wholesome　and　thrilling　stories　he　wrote；　and　who　held　on　breathlessly　to　the　skein　of　mystery　until　they　came　to　the　denouement　he　had　planned。

But　no　thought　of　books；　or　plots；　or　stories　filled　his　troubled　mind　as　he　strode　along　the　deserted　road　to　Little　Beston。　　He　had　had　two　interviews　in　London；　one　of　which　under　ordinary　circumstances　would　have　filled　him　with　joy：　He　had　seen　T。　X。　and　〃T。　X。〃　was　T。　X。　Meredith；　who　would　one　day　be　Chief　of　the　Criminal　Investigation　Department　and　was　now　an　Assistant　Commissioner　of　Police；　engaged　in　the　more　delicate　work　of　that　department。

In　his　erratic；　tempestuous　way；　T。　X。　had　suggested　the　greatest　idea　for　a　plot　that　any　author　could　desire。　　But　it　was　not　of　T。　X。　that　John　Lexman　thought　as　he　breasted　the　hill；　on　the　slope　of　which　was　the　tiny　habitation　known　by　the　somewhat　magnificent　title　of　Beston　Priory。

It　was　the　interview　he　had　had　with　the　Greek　on　the　previous　day　which　filled　his　mind；　and　he　frowned　as　he　recalled　it。　　He　opened　the　little　wicket　gate　and　went　through　the　plantation　to　the　house；　doing　his　best　to　shake　off　the　recollection　of　the　remarkable　and　unedifying　discussion　he　had　had　with　the　moneylender。

Beston　Priory　was　little　more　than　a　cottage；　though　one　of　its　walls　was　an　indubitable　relic　of　that　establishment　which　a　pious　Howard　had　erected　in　the　thirteenth　century。　　A　small　and　unpretentious　building；　built　in　the　Elizabethan　style　with　quaint　gables　and　high　chimneys；　its　latticed　windows　and　sunken　gardens；　its　rosary　and　its　tiny　meadow；　gave　it　a　certain　manorial　completeness　which　was　a　source　of　great　pride　to　its　owner。

He　passed　under　the　thatched　porch；　and　stood　for　a　moment　in　the　broad　hallway　as　he　stripped　his　drenching　mackintosh。

The　hall　was　in　darkness。　　Grace　would　probably　be　changing　for　dinner；　and　he　decided　that　in　his　present　mood　he　would　not　disturb　her。　　He　passed　through　the　long　passage　which　led　to　the　big　study　at　the　back　of　the　house。　　A　fire　burnt　redly　in　the　old…fashioned　grate　and　the　snug　comfort　of　the　room　brought　a　sense　of　ease　and　re…lief。　　He　changed　his　shoes；　and　lit　the　table　lamp。

The　room　was　obviously　a　man's　den。　　The　leather…covered　chairs；　the　big　and　well…filled　bookcase　which　covered　one　wall　of　the　room；　the　huge；　solid…oak　writing…desk；　covered　with　books　and　half…finished　manuscripts；　spoke　unmistakably　of　its　owner's　occupation。

After　he　had　changed　his　shoes；　he　refilled　his　pipe；　walked　over　to　the　fire；　and　stood　looking　down　into　its　glowing　heart。

He　was　a　man　a　little　above　medium　height；　slimly　built；　with　a　breadth　of　shoulder　which　was　suggestive　of　the　athlete。　　He　had　indeed　rowed　4　in　his　boat；　and　had　fought　his　way　into　the　semi…finals　of　the　amateur　boxing　championship　of　England。　　His　face　was　strong；　lean；　yet　well…moulded。　　His　eyes　were　grey　and　deep；　his　eyebrows　straight　and　a　little　forbidding。　　The　clean…shaven　mouth　was　big　and　generous；　and　the　healthy　tan　of　his　cheek　told　of　a　life　lived　in　the　open　air。

There　was　nothing　of　the　recluse　or　the　student　in　his　appearance。　He　was　in　fact　a　typical；　healthy…looking　Britisher；　very　much　like　any　other　man　of　his　class　whom　one　would　meet　in　the　mess…room　of　the　British　army；　in　the　wardrooms　of　the　fleet；　or　in　the　far…off　posts　of　the　Empire；　where　the　administrative　cogs　of　the　great　machine　are　to　be　seen　at　work。

There　was　a　little　tap　at　the　door；　and　before　he　could　say　〃Come　in〃　it　was　pushed　open　and　Grace　Lexman　entered。

If　you　described　her　as　brave　and　sweet　you　might　secure　from　that　brief　description　both　her　manner　and　her　charm。　　He　half　crossed　the　room　to　meet　her；　and　kissed　her　tenderly。

〃I　didn't　know　you　were　back　until　…　〃　she　said；　linking　her　arm　in　his。

〃Until　you　saw　the　horrible　mess　my　mackintosh　has　made；〃　he　smiled。　　〃I　know　your　methods；　Watson！〃

She　laughed；　but　became　serious　again。

〃I　am　very　glad　you've　come　back。　　We　have　a　visitor；〃　she　said。

He　raised　his　eyebrows。

〃A　visitor？　　Whoever　came　down　on　a　day　like　this？〃

She　looked　at　him　a　little　strangely。

〃Mr。　Kara；〃　she　said。

〃Kara？　　How　long　has　he　been　here？〃

〃He　came　at　four。〃

There　was　nothing　enthusiastic　in　her　tone。

〃I　can't　understand　why　you　don't　like　old　Kara；〃　rallied　her　husband。

〃There　are　very　many　reasons；〃　she　replied；　a　little　curtly　for　her。

〃Anyway；〃　said　John　Lexman；　after　a　moment's　thought；　〃his　arrival　is　rather　opportune。　　Where　is　he？〃

〃He　is　in　the　drawing…room。〃

The　Priory　drawing…room　was　a　low…ceilinged；　rambling　apartment；　〃all　old　print　and　chrysanthemums；〃　to　use　Lexman's　description。　Cosy　armchairs；　a　grand　piano；　an　almost　medieval　open　grate；　faced　with　dull…green　tiles；　a　well…worn　but　cheerful　carpet　and　two　big　silver　candelabras　were　the　principal　features　which　attracted　the　newcomer。

There　was　in　this　room　a　harmony；　a　quiet　order　and　a　soothing　quality　which　made　it　a　haven　of　rest　to　a　literary　man　with　jagged　nerves。　　Two　big　bronze　bowls　were　filled　with　early　violets；　another　blazed　like　a　pale　sun　with　primroses；　and　the　early　woodland　flowers　filled　the　room　with　a　faint　fragrance。

A　man　rose　to　his　feet；　as　John　Lexman　entered　and　crossed　the　room　with　an　easy　carriage。　　He　was　a　man　possessed　of　singular　beauty　of　face　and　of　figure。　　Half　a　head　taller　than　the　author；　he　carried　himself　with　such　a　grace　as　to　conceal　his　height。

〃I　missed　you　in　town；〃　he　said；　〃so　I　thought　I'd　run　down　on　the　off　chance　of　seeing　you。〃

He　spoke　in　the　well…modulated　tone　of　one　who　had　had　a　long　acquaintance　with　the　public　schools　and　universities　of　England。　There　was　no　trace　of　any　foreign　accent；　yet　Remington　Kara　was　a　Greek　and　had　been　born　and　partly　educated　in　the　more　turbulent　area　of　Albania。

The　two　men　shook　hands　warmly。

〃You'll　stay　to　dinner？〃

Kara　glanced　round　with　a　smile　at　Grace　Lexman。　　She　sat　uncomfortably　upright；　her　hands　loosely　folded　on　her　lap；　her　face　devoid　of　encouragement。

〃If　Mrs。　Lexman　doesn't　object；〃　said　the　Greek。

〃I　should　be　pleased；　if　you　would；〃　she　said；　almost　mechanically；　〃it　is　a　horrid　night　and　you　won't　get　anything　worth　eating　this　side　of　London　and　I　doubt　very　much；〃　she　smiled　a　little；　〃if　the　meal　I　can　give　you　will　be　worthy　of　that　description。〃

〃What　you　can　give　me　will　be　more　than　sufficient；〃　he　said；　with　a　little　bow；　and　turned　to　her　husband。

In　a　few　minutes　they　were　deep　in　a　discussion　of　books　and　places；　and　Grace　seized　the　opportunity　to　make　her　escape。　　From　books　in　general　to　Lexman's　books　in　particular　the　conversation　flowed。

〃I've　read　every　one　of　them；　you　know；〃　said　Kara。

John　made　a　little　face。　　〃Poor　devil；〃　he　said　sardonically。

〃On　the　contrary；〃　said　Kara；　〃I　am　not　to　be　pitied。　　There　is　a　great　criminal　lost　in　you；　Lexman。〃

〃Thank　you；〃　said　John。

〃I　am　not　being　uncomplimentary；　am　I？〃　smiled　the　Greek。　　〃I　am　merely　referring　to　the　ingenuity　of　your　plots。　　Sometimes　your　books　baffle　and　annoy　me。　　If　I　cannot　see　the　solution　of　your　mysteries　before　the　book　is　half　through；　it　angers　me　a　little。　Of　course　in　the　majority　of　cases　I　know　the　solution　before　I　have　reached　the　fifth　chapter。〃

John　looked　at　him　in　surprise　and　was　somewhat　piqued。

〃I　flatter　myself　it　is　impossible　to　tell　how　my　stories