the man who knew too much-第29节

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uieter　voice：

〃Look　here；　sir。　I　like　you；　if　you　don't　mind　my　saying　so。　I　think　you　are　really　on　the　side　of　the　people　and　I'm　sure　you're　a　brave　man。　A　lot　braver　than　you　know；　perhaps。　We　daren't　touch　what　you　propose　with　a　barge　pole；　and　so　far　from　wanting　you　in　the　old　party；　we'd　rather　you　ran　your　own　risk　by　yourself。　But　because　I　like　you　and　respect　your　pluck；　I'll　do　you　a　good　turn　before　we　part。　I　don't　want　you　to　waste　time　barking　up　the　wrong　tree。　You　talk　about　how　the　new　squire　got　the　money　to　buy；　and　the　ruin　of　the　old　squire；　and　all　the　rest　of　it。　Well；　I'll　give　you　a　hint　about　that；　a　hint　about　something　precious　few　people　know。〃

〃I　am　very　grateful；〃　said　Fisher；　gravely。　〃What　is　it？〃

〃It's　in　two　words；〃　said　the　other。　〃The　new　squire　was　quite　poor　when　he　bought。　The　old　squire　was　quite　rich　when　he　sold。〃

Horne　Fisher　looked　at　him　thoughtfully　as　he　turned　away　abruptly　and　busied　himself　with　the　papers　on　his　desk。　Then　Fisher　uttered　a　short　phrase　of　thanks　and　farewell；　and　went　out　into　the　street；　still　very　thoughtful。

His　reflection　seemed　to　end　in　resolution；　and；　falling　into　a　more　rapid　stride；　he　passed　out　of　the　little　town　along　a　road　leading　toward　the　gate　of　the　great　park；　the　country　seat　of　Sir　Francis　Verner。　A　glitter　of　sunlight　made　the　early　winter　more　like　a　late　autumn；　and　the　dark　woods　were　touched　here　and　there　with　red　and　golden　leaves；　like　the　last　rays　of　a　lost　sunset。　From　a　higher　part　of　the　road　he　had　seen　the　long；　classical　facade　of　the　great　house　with　its　many　windows；　almost　immediately　beneath　him；　but　when　the　road　ran　down　under　the　wall　of　the　estate；　topped　with　towering　trees　behind；　he　realized　that　it　was　half　a　mile　round　to　the　lodge　gates；　After　walking　for　a　few　minutes　along　the　lane；　however；　he　came　to　a　place　where　the　wall　had　cracked　and　was　in　process　of　repair。　As　it　was；　there　was　a　great　gap　in　the　gray　masonry　that　looked　at　first　as　black　as　a　cavern　and　only　showed　at　a　second　glance　the　twilight　of　the　twinkling　trees。　There　was　something　fascinating　about　that　unexpected　gate；　like　the　opening　of　a　fairy　tale。

Horne　Fisher　had　in　him　something　of　the　aristocrat；　which　is　very　near　to　the　anarchist。　It　was　characteristic　of　him　that　he　turned　into　this　dark　and　irregular　entry　as　casually　as　into　his　own　front　door；　merely　thinking　that　it　would　be　a　short　cut　to　the　house。　He　made　his　way　through　the　dim　wood　for　some　distance　and　with　some　difficulty；　until　there　began　to　shine　through　the　trees　a　level　light；　in　lines　of　silver；　which　he　did　not　at　first　understand。　The　next　moment　he　had　come　out　into　the　daylight　at　the　top　of　a　steep　bank；　at　the　bottom　of　which　a　path　ran　round　the　rim　of　a　large　ornamental　lake。　The　sheet　of　water　which　he　had　seen　shimmering　through　the　trees　was　of　considerable　extent；　but　was　walled　in　on　every　side　with　woods　which　were　not　only　dark；　but　decidedly　dismal。　At　one　end　of　the　path　was　a　classical　statue　of　some　nameless　nymph；　and　at　the　other　end　it　was　flanked　by　two　classical　urns；　but　the　marble　was　weather…stained　and　streaked　with　green　and　gray。　A　hundred　other　signs；　smaller　but　more　significant；　told　him　that　he　had　come　on　some　outlying　corner　of　the　grounds　neglected　and　seldom　visited。　In　the　middle　of　the　lake　was　what　appeared　to　be　an　island；　and　on　the　island　what　appeared　to　be　meant　for　a　classical　temple；　not　open　like　a　temple　of　the　winds；　but　with　a　blank　wall　between　its　Doric　pillars。　We　may　say　it　only　seemed　like　an　island；　because　a　second　glance　revealed　a　low　causeway　of　flat　stones　running　up　to　it　from　the　shore　and　turning　it　into　a　peninsula。　And　certainly　it　only　seemed　like　a　temple；　for　nobody　knew　better　than　Horne　Fisher　that　no　god　had　ever　dwelt　in　that　shrine。

〃That's　what　makes　all　this　classical　landscape　gardening　so　desolate；〃　he　said　to　himself。　〃More　desolate　than　Stonehenge　or　the　Pyramids。　We　don't　believe　in　Egyptian　mythology；　　but　the　Egyptians　did；　and　I　suppose　even　the　Druids　believed　in　Druidism。　But　the　eighteenth…century　gentleman　who　built　these　temples　didn't　believe　in　Venus　or　Mercury　any　more　than　we　do；　that's　why　the　reflection　of　those　pale　pillars　in　the　lake　is　truly　only　the　shadow　of　a　shade。　They　were　men　of　the　age　of　Reason；　they；　who　filled　their　gardens　with　these　stone　nymphs；　had　less　hope　than　any　men　in　all　history　of　really　meeting　a　nymph　in　the　forest。〃

His　monologue　stopped　aruptly　with　a　sharp　noise　like　　a　thundercrack　that　rolled　in　dreary　echoes　round　the　　dismal　mere。　He　knew　at　once　what　it　wassomebody　had　fired　off　a　gun。　But　as　to　the　meaning　of　it　he　was　momentarily　staggered；　and　strange　thoughts　thronged　into　his　mind。　The　next　moment　he　　laughed；　for　he　saw　lying　a　little　way　along　the　path　　below　him　the　dead　bird　that　the　shot　had　brought　down。

At　the　same　moment；　however；　he　saw　something　else；　which　interested　him　more。　A　ring　of　dense　trees　ran　round　the　back　of　the　island　temple；　framing　the　facade　of　it　in　dark　foliage；　and　he　could　have　sworn　he　saw　a　stir　as　of　something　moving　among　the　leaves。　The　next　moment　his　suspicion　was　confirmed；　for　a　rather　ragged　figure　came　from　under　the　shadow　of　the　temple　and　began　to　move　along　the　causeway　that　led　to　the　bank。　Even　at　that　distance　the　figure　was　conspicuous　by　its　great　height　and　Fisher　could　see　that　the　man　carried　a　gun　under　his　arm。　There　came　back　into　his　memory　at　once　the　name　Long　Adam；　the　poacher。

With　a　rapid　sense　of　strategy　he　sometimes　showed；　Fisher　sprang　from　the　bank　and　raced　round　the　lake　to　the　head　of　the　little　pier　of　stones。　If　once　a　man　reached　the　mainland　he　could　easily　vanish　into　the　woods。　But　when　Fisher　began　to　advance　along　the　stones　toward　the　island；　the　man　was　cornered　in　a　blind　alley　and　could　only　back　toward　the　temple。　Putting　his　broad　shoulders　against　it；　he　stood　as　if　at　bay；　he　was　a　comparatively　young　man；　with　fine　lines　in　his　lean　face　and　figure　and　a　mop　of　ragged　red　hair。　The　look　in　his　eyes　might　well　have　been　disquieting　to　anyone　left　alone　with　him　on　an　island　in　the　middle　of　a　lake。

〃Good　morning；〃　said　Horne　Fisher；　pleasantly。　〃I　thought　at　first　you　were　a　murderer。　But　it　seems　unlikely；　somehow；　that　the　partridge　rushed　between　us　and　died　for　love　of　me；　like　the　heroines　in　the　romances；　so　I　suppose　you　are　a　poacher。〃

〃I　suppose　you　would　call　me　a　poacher；〃　answered　the　man；　and　his　voice　was　something　of　a　surprise　coming　from　such　a　scarecrow；　it　had　that　hard　fastidiousness　to　be　found　in　those　who　have　made　a　fight　for　their　own　refinement　among　rough　surroundings。　〃I　consider　I　have　a　perfect　right　to　shoot　game　in　this　place。　But　I　am　well　aware　that　people　of　your　sort　take　me　for　a　thief；　and　I　suppose　you　will　try　to　land　me　in　jail。〃

〃There　are　preliminary　difficulties；〃　replied　Fisher。　〃To　begin　with；　the　mistake　is　flattering；　but　I　am　not　a　gamekeeper。　Still　less　am　I　three　gamekeepers；　who　would　be；　I　imagine；　about　your　fighting　weight。　But　I　confess　I　have　another　reason　for　not　wanting　to　jail　you。〃

〃And　what　is　that？〃　asked　the　other。

〃Only　that　I　quite　agree　with　you；〃　answered　Fisher。　〃I　don't　exactly　say　you　have　a　right　to　poach；　but　I　never　could　see　that　it　was　as　wrong　as　being　a　thief。　It　seems　to　me　against　the　whole　normal　notion　of　property　that　a　man　should　own　something　because　it　flies　across　his　garden。　He　might　as　well　own　the　wind；　or　think　he　could　write　his　name　on　a　morning　cloud。　Besides；　if　we　want　poor　people　to　respect　property　we　must　give　them　some　property　to　respect。　You　ought　to　have　land　of　your　own；　and　I'm　going　to　give　you　some　if　I　can。〃

〃Going　to　give　me　some　land！〃　repeated　Long　Adam。

〃I　apologize　for　addressing　you　as　if　you　were　a　public　meeting；〃　said　Fisher；　〃but　I　am　an　entirely　new　kind　of　public　man　who　says　the　same　thing　in　public　and　in　private。　I've　said　this　to　a　hundred　huge　meetings　throughout　the　country；　and　I　say　it　to　you　on　this　queer　little　island　in　this　dismal　pond。　I　would　cut　up　a　big　estate　like　this　into　small　estates　for　everybody；　even　for　poachers。　I　would　do　in　England　as　they　did　in　Irelandbuy　the　big　men　out；　if　possible；　get　them　out；　anyhow。　A　man　like　you　ought　to　have　a　little　place　of　his　own。　I　don't　say　you　could　keep　pheasants；　but　you　might　keep　chickens。〃

The　man　stiffened　suddenly　and　he　seemed　at　once　to　blanch　and　flame　at　the　promise　as　if　it　were　a　threat。

〃Chickens！〃　he　repeated；　with　a　passion　of　contempt。

〃Why　do　you　object？〃　asked　the　placid　candidate。　〃Because　keeping　hens　is　rather　a　mild　amusement　for　a　poacher？　What　about　poaching　eggs？〃

〃Because　I　am　not　a　poacher；〃　cried　Adam；　in　a　rending　voice　that　rang　round　the　hollow　shrines　and　urns　like　the　echoes　of　his　gun。　〃Because　the　partridge　lying　dead　over　there　is　my　partridge。　Because　the　land　you　are　standing　on　is　my　land。　Because　my　own　land　was　only　taken　from　me　by　a　crime；　and　a　worse　crime　than　poaching。　This　has　been　a　single　estate　for　hundreds　and　hundreds　of　years；　and　if　you　or　any　meddlesome　mountebank　comes　here　and　talks　of　cutting　it　up　like　a　cake；　if　I　ever　hear　a　word　more　of　yo