the man who knew too much-第21节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



〃The　answer　is　very　simple；〃　replied　Fisher。　〃The　crime　was　not　committed　in　the　morning。　The　crime　was　not　committed　on　the　island。〃

March　stared　at　the　shining　water　without　replying；　but　Fisher　resumed　like　one　who　had　been　asked　a　question：

〃Every　intelligent　murder　involves　taking　advantage　of　some　one　uncommon　feature　in　a　common　situation。　The　feature　here　was　the　fancy　of　old　Hook　for　being　the　first　man　up　every　morning；　his　fixed　routine　as　an　angler；　and　his　annoyance　at　being　disturbed。　The　murderer　strangled　him　in　his　own　house　after　dinner　on　the　night　before；　carried　his　corpse；　with　all　his　fishing　tackle；　across　the　stream　in　the　dead　of　night；　tied　him　to　the　tree；　and　left　him　there　under　the　stars。　It　was　a　dead　man　who　sat　fishing　there　all　day。　Then　the　murderer　went　back　to　the　house；　or；　rather；　to　the　garage；　and　went　off　in　his　motor　car。　The　murderer　drove　his　own　motor　car。〃

Fisher　glanced　at　his　friend's　face　and　went　on。　〃You　look　horrified；　and　the　thing　is　horrible。　But　other　things　are　horrible；　too。　If　some　obscure　man　had　been　hag…ridden　by　a　blackmailer　and　had　his　family　life　ruined；　you　wouldn't　think　the　murder　of　his　persecutor　the　most　inexcusable　of　murders。　Is　it　any　worse　when　a　whole　great　nation　is　set　free　as　well　as　a　family？　By　this　warning　to　Sweden　we　shall　probably　prevent　war　and　not　precipitate　it；　and　save　many　thousand　lives　rather　more　valuable　than　the　life　of　that　viper。　Oh；　I'm　not　talking　sophistry　or　seriously　justifying　the　thing；　but　the　slavery　that　held　him　and　his　country　was　a　thousand　times　less　justifiable。　If　I'd　really　been　sharp　I　should　have　guessed　it　from　his　smooth；　deadly　smiling　at　dinner　that　night。　Do　you　remember　that　silly　talk　about　how　old　Isaac　could　always　play　his　fish？　In　a　pretty　hellish　sense　he　was　a　fisher　of　men。〃

Harold　March　took　the　oars　and　began　to　row　again。

〃I　remember；〃　he　said；　〃and　about　how　a　big　fish　might　break　the　line　and　get　away。〃



VI。　THE　HOLE　IN　THE　WALL

Two　men；　the　one　an　architect　and　the　other　an　archaeologist；　met　on　the　steps　of　the　great　house　at　Prior's　Park；　and　their　host；　Lord　Bulmer；　in　his　breezy　way；　thought　it　natural　to　introduce　them。　It　must　be　confessed　that　he　was　hazy　as　well　as　breezy；　and　had　no　very　clear　connection　in　his　mind；　beyond　the　sense　that　an　architect　and　an　archaeologist　begin　with　the　same　series　of　letters。　The　world　must　remain　in　a　reverent　doubt　as　to　whether　he　would；　on　the　same　principles；　have　presented　a　diplomatist　to　a　dipsomaniac　or　a　ratiocinator　to　a　rat　catcher。　He　was　a　big；　fair；　bull…necked　young　man；　abounding　in　outward　gestures；　unconsciously　flapping　his　gloves　and　flourishing　his　stick。

〃You　two　ought　to　have　something　to　talk　about；〃　he　said；　cheerfully。　〃Old　buildings　and　all　that　sort　of　thing；　this　is　rather　an　old　building；　by　the　way；　though　I　say　it　who　shouldn't。　I　must　ask　you　to　excuse　me　a　moment；　I've　got　to　go　and　see　about　the　cards　for　this　Christmas　romp　my　sister's　arranging。　We　hope　to　see　you　all　there；　of　course。　Juliet　wants　it　to　be　a　fancy…dress　affairabbots　and　crusaders　and　all　that。　My　ancestors；　I　suppose；　after　all。〃

〃I　trust　the　abbot　was　not　an　ancestor；〃　said　the　archaeological　gentleman；　with　a　smile。

〃Only　a　sort　of　great…uncle；　I　imagine；〃　answered　the　other；　laughing；　then　his　rather　rambling　eye　rolled　round　the　ordered　landscape　in　front　of　the　house；　an　artificial　sheet　of　water　ornamented　with　an　antiquated　nymph　in　the　center　and　surrounded　by　a　park　of　tall　trees　now　gray　and　black　and　frosty；　for　it　was　in　the　depth　of　a　severe　winter。

〃It's　getting　jolly　cold；〃　his　lordship　continued。　〃My　sister　hopes　we　shall　have　some　skating　as　well　as　dancing。〃

〃If　the　crusaders　come　in　full　armor；〃　said　the　other；　〃you　must　be　careful　not　to　drown　your　ancestors。〃

〃Oh；　there's　no　fear　of　that；〃　answered　Bulmer；　〃this　precious　lake　of　ours　is　not　two　feet　deep　anywhere。〃　And　with　one　of　his　flourishing　gestures　he　stuck　his　stick　into　the　water　to　demonstrate　its　shallowness。　They　could　see　the　short　end　bent　in　the　water；　so　that　he　seemed　for　a　moment　to　lean　his　large　weight　on　a　breaking　staff。

〃The　worst　you　can　expect　is　to　see　an　abbot　sit　down　rather　suddenly；〃　he　added；　turning　away。　〃Well；　au　revoir；　I'll　let　you　know　about　it　later。〃

The　archaeologist　and　the　architect　were　left　on　the　great　stone　steps　smiling　at　each　other；　but　whatever　their　common　interests；　they　presented　　a　considerable　personal　contrast；　and　the　fanciful　might　even　have　found　some　contradiction　in　　each　considered　individually。　The　former；　a　Mr。　　James　Haddow；　came　from　a　drowsy　den　in　the　Inns　of　Court；　full　of　leather　and　parchment；　for　the　law　was　his　profession　and　history　only　his　hobby；　he　was　indeed；　among　other　things；　the　solicitor　and　agent　of　the　Prior's　Park　estate。　But　he　himself　was　far　from　drowsy　and　seemed　remarkably　wide　awake；　with　shrewd　and　prominent　blue　eyes；　and　red　hair　brushed　as　neatly　as　his　very　neat　costume。　The　latter；　whose　name　was　Leonard　Crane；　came　straight　from　a　crude　and　almost　cockney　office　of　builders　and　house　agents　in　the　neighboring　suburb；　sunning　itself　at　the　end　of　a　new　row　of　jerry…built　houses　with　plans　in　very　bright　colors　and　notices　in　very　large　letters。　But　a　serious　observer；　at　a　second　glance；　might　have　seen　in　his　eyes　something　of　that　shining　sleep　that　is　called　vision；　and　his　yellow　hair；　while　not　affectedly　long；　was　unaffectedly　untidy。　It　was　a　manifest　if　melancholy　truth　that　the　architect　was　an　artist。　But　the　artistic　temperament　was　far　from　explaining　　him；　there　was　something　else　about　him　that　was　not　definable；　but　which　some　even　felt　to　be　dangerous。　Despite　his　dreaminess；　he　would　sometimes　surprise　his　friends　with　arts　and　even　sports　apart　from　his　ordinary　life；　like　memories　of　some　previous　existence。　On　this　occasion；　nevertheless；　he　hastened　to　disclaim　any　authority　on　the　other　man's　hobby。

〃I　mustn't　appear　on　false　pretences；〃　he　said；　with　a　smile。　〃I　hardly　even　know　what　an　archaeologist　is；　except　that　a　rather　rusty　remnant　of　Greek　suggests　that　he　is　a　man　who　studies　old　things。〃

〃Yes；〃　replied　Haddow；　grimly。　〃An　archaeologist　is　a　man　who　studies　old　things　and　finds　they　are　new。〃

Crane　looked　at　him　steadily　for　a　moment　and　then　smiled　again。

〃Dare　one　suggest；〃　he　said；　〃that　some　of　the　things　we　have　been　talking　about　are　among　the　old　things　that　turn　out　not　to　be　old？〃

His　companion　also　was　silent　for　a　moment；　and　the　smile　on　his　rugged　face　was　fainter　as　he　replied；　quietly：

〃The　wall　round　the　park　is　really　old。　The　one　gate　in　it　is　Gothic；　and　I　cannot　find　any　trace　of　destruction　or　restoration。　But　the　house　and　the　estate　generallywell　the　romantic　ideas　read　into　these　things　are　often　rather　recent　romances；　things　almost　like　fashionable　novels。　For　instance；　the　very　name　of　this　place；　Prior's　Park；　makes　everybody　think　of　it　as　a　moonlit　mediaeval　abbey；　I　dare　say　the　spiritualists　by　this　time　have　discovered　the　ghost　of　a　monk　there。　But；　according　to　the　only　authoritative　study　of　the　matter　I　can　find；　the　place　was　simply　called　Prior's　as　any　rural　place　is　called　Podger's。　It　was　the　house　of　a　Mr。　Prior；　a　farmhouse；　probably；　that　stood　here　at　some　time　or　other　and　was　a　local　landmark。　Oh；　there　are　a　great　many　examples　of　the　same　thing；　here　and　everywhere　else。　This　suburb　of　ours　used　to　be　a　village；　and　because　some　of　the　people　slurred　the　name　and　pronounced　it　Holliwell；　many　a　minor　poet　indulged　in　fancies　about　a　Holy　Well；　with　spells　and　fairies　and　all　the　rest　of　it；　filling　the　suburban　drawing…rooms　with　the　Celtic　twilight。　Whereas　anyone　acquainted　with　the　facts　knows　that　'Hollinwall'　simply　means　'the　hole　in　the　wall；'　and　probably　referred　to　some　quite　trivial　accident。　That's　what　I　mean　when　I　say　that　we　don't　so　much　find　old　things　as　we　find　new　ones。〃

Crane　seemed　to　have　grown　somewhat　inattentive　to　the　little　lecture　on　antiquities　and　novelties；　and　the　cause　of　his　restlessness　was　soon　apparent；　and　indeed　approaching。　Lord　Bulmer's　sister；　Juliet　Bray；　was　coming　slowly　across　the　lawn；　accompanied　by　one　gentleman　　and　followed　by　two　others。　The　young　architect　was　in　the　illogical　condition　of　mind　in　which　he　preferred　three　to　one。

The　man　walking　with　the　lady　was　no　other　than　the　eminent　Prince　Borodino；　who　was　at　least　as　famous　as　a　distinguished　diplomatist　ought　to　be；　in　the　interests　of　what　is　called　secret　diplomacy。　He　had　been　paying　a　round　of　visits　at　various　English　country　houses；　and　exactly　what　he　was　doing　for　diplomacy　at　Prior's　Park　was　as　much　a　secret　as　any　diplomatist　could　desire。　The　obvious　thing　to　say　of　his　appearance　was　that　he　would　have　been　extremely　handsome　if　he　had　not　been　entirely　bald。　But；　indeed；　that　would　itself　be　a　rather　bald　way　of　putting　it。　Fantastic　as　it　sounds；　it　would　fit　the　case　better　to　say　that　people　would　have　been　surprised　to　see　hair　growing　on　him；　as　surprised　as　if　they　had　found　hair　growing　on　the　bust　of　a　Roman　emperor。　His　tall　figure　was　buttoned　up　in　a　tight…waisted　fashion　that　rather　accentuated