the man who knew too much-第13节

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Fisher　was　looking　at　him　with　level　lids　and　an　immovable　manner。

〃Every　precaution　was　taken；〃　he　said。　〃The　Duke　carried　the　relic　on　his　own　person；　and　locked　it　up　in　the　case　with　his　own　hands。〃

March　was　silent；　but　Twyford　stammered。　〃I　don't　understand　you。　You　give　me　the　creeps。　Why　don't　you　speak　plainer？〃

〃If　I　spoke　plainer　you　would　understand　me　less；〃　said　Horne　Fisher。

〃All　the　same　I　should　try；〃　said　March；　still　without　lifting　his　head。

〃Oh；　very　well；〃　replied　Fisher；　with　a　sigh；　〃the　plain　truth　is；　of　course；　that　it's　a　bad　business。　Everybody　knows　it's　a　bad　business　who　knows　anything　about　it。　But　it's　always　happening；　and　in　one　way　one　can　hardly　blame　them。　They　get　stuck　on　to　a　foreign　princess　that's　as　stiff　as　a　Dutch　doll；　and　they　have　their　fling。　In　this　case　it　was　a　pretty　big　fling。〃

The　face　of　the　Rev。　Thomas　Twyford　certainly　suggested　that　he　was　a　little　out　of　his　depth　in　the　seas　of　truth；　but　as　the　other　went　on　speaking　vaguely　the　old　gentleman's　features　sharpened　and　set。

〃If　it　were　some　decent　morganatic　affair　I　wouldn't　say；　but　he　must　have　been　a　fool　to　throw　away　thousands　on　a　woman　like　that。　At　the　end　it　was　sheer　blackmail；　but　it's　something　that　the　old　ass　didn't　get　it　out　of　the　taxpayers。　He　could　only　get　it　out　of　the　Yank；　and　there　you　are。〃

The　Rev。　Thomas　Twyford　had　risen　to　his　feet。

〃Well；　I'm　glad　my　nephew　had　nothing　to　do　with　it；〃　he　said。　〃And　if　that's　what　the　world　is　like；　I　hope　he　will　never　have　anything　to；　do　with　it。〃

〃I　hope　not；〃　answered　Horne　Fisher。　〃No　one　knows　so　well　as　I　do　that　one　can　have　far　too　much　to　do　with　it。〃

For　Summers　Minor　had　indeed　nothing　to　do　with　it；　and　it　is　part　of　his　higher　significance　that　he　has　really　nothing　to　do　with　the　story；　or　with　any　such　stories。　The　boy　went　like　a　bullet　through　the　tangle　of　this　tale　of　crooked　politics　and　crazy　mockery　and　came　out　on　the　other　side；　pursuing　his　own　unspoiled　purposes。　From　the　top　of　the　chimney　he　climbed　he　had　caught　sight　of　a　new　omnibus；　whose　color　and　name　he　had　never　known；　as　a　naturalist　might　see　a　new　bird　or　a　botanist　a　new　flower。　And　he　had　been　sufficiently　enraptured　in　rushing　after　it；　and　riding　away　upon　that　fairy　ship。



IV。　THE　BOTTOMLESS　WELL

In　an　oasis；　or　green　island；　in　the　red　and　yellow　seas　of　sand　that　stretch　beyond　Europe　toward　the　sunrise；　there　can　be　found　a　rather　fantastic　contrast；　which　is　none　the　less　typical　of　such　ai　place；　since　international　treaties　have　made　it　an　outpost　of　the　British　occupation。　The　site　is　famous　among　archaeologists　for　something　that　is　hardly　a　monument；　but　merely　a　hole　in　the　ground。　But　it　is　a　round　shaft；　like　that　of　a　well；　and　probably　a　part　of　some　great　irrigation　works　of　remote　and　disputed　date；　perhaps　more　ancient　than　anything　in　that　ancient　land。　There　is　a　green　fringe　of　palm　and　prickly　pear　round　the　black　mouth　of　the　well；　but　nothing　of　the　upper　masonry　remains　except　two　bulky　and　battered　stones　standing　like　the　pillars　of　a　gateway　of　nowhere；　in　which　some　of　the　more　transcendental　archaeologists；　in　certain　moods　at　moonrise　or　sunset；　think　they　can　trace　the　faint　lines　of　figures　or　features　of　more　than　Babylonian　monstrosity；　while　the　more　rationalistic　archaeologists；　in　the　more　rational　hours　of　daylight；　see　nothing　but　two　shapeless　rocks。　It　may　have　been　noticed；　however；　that　all　Englishmen　are　not　archaeologists。　Many　of　those　assembled　in　such　a　place　for　official　and　military　purposes　have　hobbies　other　than　archaeology。　And　it　is　a　solemn　fact　that　the　English　in　this　Eastern　exile　have　contrived　to　make　a　small　golf　links　out　of　the　green　scrub　and　sand；　with　a　comfortable　clubhouse　at　one　end　of　it　and　this　primeval　monument　at　the　other。　They　did　not　actually　use　this　archaic　abyss　as　a　bunker；　because　it　was　by　tradition　unfathomable；　and　even　for　practical　purposes　unfathomed。　Any　sporting　projectile　sent　into　it　might　be　counted　most　literally　as　a　lost　ball。　But　they　often　sauntered　round　it　in　their　interludes　of　talking　and　smoking　cigarettes；　and　one　of　them　had　just　come　down　from　the　clubhouse　to　find　another　gazing　somewhat　moodily　into　the　well。

Both　the　Englishmen　wore　light　clothes　and　white　pith　helmets　and　puggrees；　but　there；　for　the　most　part；　their　resemblance　ended。　And　they　both　almost　simultaneously　said　the　same　word；　but　they　said　it　on　two　totally　different　notes　of　the　voice。

〃Have　you　heard　the　news？〃　asked　the　man　from　the　club。　〃Splendid。〃

〃Splendid；〃　replied　the　man　by　the　well。　But　the　first　man　pronounced　the　word　as　a　young　man　might　say　it　about　a　woman；　and　the　second　as　an　old　man　might　say　it　about　the　weather；　not　without　sincerity；　but　certainly　without　fervor。

And　in　this　the　tone　of　the　two　men　was　sufficiently　typical　of　them。　The　first；　who　was　a　certain　Captain　Boyle；　was　of　a　bold　and　boyish　type；　dark；　and　with　a　sort　of　native　heat　in　his　face　that　did　not　belong　to　the　atmosphere　of　the　East；　but　rather　to　the　ardors　and　ambitions　of　the　West。　The　other　was　an　older　man　and　certainly　an　older　resident；　a　civilian　officialHorne　Fisher；　and　his　drooping　eyelids　and　drooping　light　mustache　expressed　all　the　paradox　of　the　Englishman　in　the　East。　He　was　much　too　hot　to　be　anything　but　cool。

Neither　of　them　thought　it　necessary　to　mention　what　it　was　that　was　splendid。　That　would　indeed　have　been　superfluous　conversation　about　something　that　everybody　knew。　The　striking　victory　over　a　menacing　combination　of　Turks　and　Arabs　in　the　north；　won　by　troops　under　the　command　of　Lord　Hastings；　the　veteran　of　so　many　striking　victories；　was　already　spread　by　the　newspapers　all　over　the　Empire；　let　alone　to　this　small　garrison　so　near　to　the　battlefield。

〃Now；　no　other　nation　in　the　world　could　have　done　a　thing　like　that；〃　cried　Captain　Boyle；　emphatically。

Horne　Fisher　was　still　looking　silently　into　the　well；　a　moment　later　he　answered：　〃We　certainly　have　the　art　of　unmaking　mistakes。　That's　where　the　poor　old　Prussians　went　wrong。　They　could　only　make　mistakes　and　stick　to　them。　There　is　really　a　certain　talent　in　unmaking　a　mistake。〃

〃What　do　you　mean；〃　asked　Boyle；　〃what　mistakes？〃

〃Well；　everybody　knows　it　looked　like　biting　off　more　than　he　could　chew；〃　replied　Horne　Fisher。　It　was　a　peculiarity　of　Mr。　Fisher　that　he　always　said　that　everybody　knew　things　which　about　one　person　in　two　million　was　ever　allowed　to　hear　of。　〃And　it　was　certainly　jolly　lucky　that　Travers　turned　up　so　well　in　the　nick　of　time。　Odd　how　often　the　right　thing's　been　done　for　us　by　the　second　in　command；　even　when　a　great　man　was　first　in　command。　Like　Colborne　at　Waterloo。〃

〃It　ought　to　add　a　whole　province　to　the　Empire；〃　observed　the　other。

〃Well；　I　suppose　the　Zimmernes　would　have　insisted　on　it　as　far　as　the　canal；〃　observed　Fisher；　thoughtfully；　〃though　everybody　knows　adding　provinces　doesn't　always　pay　much　nowadays。〃

Captain　Boyle　frowned　in　a　slightly　puzzled　fashion。　Being　cloudily　conscious　of　never　having　heard　of　the　Zimmernes　in　his　life；　he　could　only　remark；　stolidly：

〃Well；　one　can't　be　a　Little　Englander。〃

Horne　Fisher　smiled；　and　he　had　a　pleasant　smile。

〃Every　man　out　here　is　a　Little　Englander；〃　he　said。　〃He　wishes　he　were　back　in　Little　England。〃

〃I　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about；　I'm　afraid；〃　said　the　younger　man；　rather　suspiciously。　〃One　　would　think　you　didn't　really　admire　Hastings　or…　…oranything。〃

〃I　admire　him　no　end；〃　replied　Fisher。　〃He's　by　far　the　best　man　for　this　post；　he　understands　the　Moslems　and　can　do　anything　with　them。　That's　why　I'm　all　against　pushing　Travers　against　him；　merely　because　of　this　last　affair。〃

〃I　really　don't　understand　what　you're　driving　at；〃　said　the　other；　frankly。

〃Perhaps　it　isn't　worth　understanding；〃　answered　Fisher；　lightly；　〃and；　anyhow；　we　needn't　talk　politics。　Do　you　know　the　Arab　legend　about　that　well？〃

〃I'm　afraid　I　don't　know　much　about　Arab　legends；〃　said　Boyle；　rather　stiffly。

〃That's　rather　a　mistake；〃　replied　Fisher；　〃especially　from　your　point　of　view。　Lord　Hastings　himself　is　an　Arab　legend。　That　is　perhaps　the　very　greatest　thing　he　really　is。　If　his　reputation　went　it　would　weaken　us　all　over　Asia　and　Africa。　Well；　the　story　about　that　hole　in　the　ground；　that　goes　down　nobody　knows　where；　has　always　fascinated　me；　rather。　It's　Mohammedan　in　form　now；　but　I　shouldn't　wonder　if　the　tale　is　a　long　way　older　than　Mohammed。　It's　all　about　somebody　they　call　the　Sultan　Aladdin；　not　our　friend　of　the　lamp；　of　course；　but　rather　like　him　in　having　to　do　with　genii　or　giants　or　something　of　that　sort。　They　say　he　commanded　the　giants　to　build　him　a　sort　of　pagoda；　rising　higher　and　higher　above　all　the　stars。　The　Utmost　for　the　Highest；　as　the　people　said　when　they　built　the　Tower　of　Babel。　But　the　builders　of　the　Tower　of　Babel　were　quite　modest　and　domestic　people；　like　mice；　compared　with　old　Aladdin。　They　only　wanted　a　tower　that　would　reach　heavena　mere　trifle。　He　wanted　a　tower　that　would　pass　heaven　and　rise　above　it；　and　go　on　rising　for　ever　and　ever。　And　Allah　cast　him　down　to　earth　with　a　thunderb