the man who knew too much-第31节

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in　a　denser　obscurity。　He　flung　another　man　flat　against　the　temple　wall；　so　that　he　slid　to　the　ground；　but　a　third　and　fourth　carried　Fisher　off　his　feet　and　began　to　bear　him；　struggling；　toward　the　doorway。　Even　in　the　bewilderment　of　the　battle　he　was　conscious　that　the　door　was　standing　　open。　Somebody　was　summoning　the　roughs　from　inside。

The　moment　they　were　within　they　hurled　him　upon　a　sort　of　bench　or　bed　with　violence；　but　no　damage；　for　the　settee；　or　whatever　it　was；　seemed　to　be　comfortably　cushioned　for　his　reception。　Their　violence　had　in　it　a　great　element　of　haste；　and　before　he　could　rise　they　had　all　rushed　for　the　door　to　escape。　Whatever　bandits　they　were　that　infested　this　desert　island；　they　were　obviously　uneasy　about　their　job　and　very　anxious　to　be　quit　of　it。　He　had　the　flying　fancy　that　regular　criminals　would　hardly　be　in　such　a　panic。　The　next　moment　the　great　door　crashed　to　and　he　could　hear　the　bolts　shriek　as　they　shot　into　their　place；　and　the　feet　of　the　retreating　men　scampering　and　stumbling　along　the　causeway。　But　rapidly　as　it　happened；　it　did　not　happen　before　Fisher　had　done　something　that　he　wanted　to　to。　Unable　to　rise　from　his　sprawling　attitude　in　that　flash　of　time；　he　had　shot　out　one　of　his　long　legs　and　hooked　it　round　the　ankle　of　the　last　man　disappearing　through　the　door。　The　man　swayed　and　toppled　over　inside　the　prison　chamber；　and　the　door　closed　between　him　and　his　fleeing　companions。　Clearly　they　were　in　too　much　haste　to　realize　that　they　had　left　one　of　their　company　behind。

The　man　sprang　to　his　feet　again　and　hammered　and　kicked　furiously　at　the　door。　Fisher's　sense　of　humor　began　to　recover　from　the　struggle　and　he　sat　up　on　his　sofa　with　something　of　his　native　nonchalance。　But　as　he　listened　to　the　captive　captor　beating　on　the　door　of　the　prison；　a　new　and　curious　reflection　came　to　him。

The　natural　course　for　a　man　thus　wishing　to　attract　his　friends'　attention　would　be　to　call　out；　to　shout　as　well　as　kick。　This　man　was　making　as　much　noise　as　he　could　with　his　feet　and　hands；　but　not　a　sound　came　from　his　throat。　Why　couldn't　he　speak？　At　first　he　thought　the　man　might　be　gagged；　which　was　manifestly　absurd。　Then　his　fancy　fell　back　on　the　ugly　idea　that　the　man　was　dumb。　He　hardly　knew　why　it　was　so　ugly　an　idea；　but　it　affected　his　imagination　in　a　dark　and　disproportionate　fashion。　There　seemed　to　be　something　creepy　about　the　idea　of　being　left　in　a　dark　room　with　a　deaf　mute。　It　was　almost　as　if　such　a　defect　were　a　deformity。　It　was　almost　as　if　it　went　with　other　and　worse　deformities。　It　was　as　if　the　shape　he　could　not　trace　in　the　darkness　were　some　shape　that　should　not　see　the　sun。

Then　he　had　a　flash　of　sanity　and　also　of　insight。　The　explanation　was　very　simple；　but　rather　interesting。　Obviously　the　man　did　not　use　his　voice　because　he　did　not　wish　his　voice　to　be　recognized。　He　hoped　to　escape　from　that　dark　place　before　Fisher　found　out　who　he　was。　And　who　was　he？　One　thing　at　least　was　clear。　He　was　one　or　other　of　the　four　or　five　men　with　whom　Fisher　had　already　talked　in　these　parts；　and　in　the　development　of　that　strange　story。

〃Now　I　wonder　who　you　are；〃　he　said；　aloud；　with　all　his　old　lazy　urbanity。　〃I　suppose　it's　no　use　trying　to　throttle　you　in　order　to　find　out；　it　would　be　displeasing　to　pass　the　night　with　a　corpse。　Besides　I　might　be　the　corpse。　I've　got　no　matches　and　I've　smashed　my　torch；　so　I　can　only　speculate。　Who　could　you　be；　now？　Let　us　think。〃

The　man　thus　genially　addressed　had　desisted　from　drumming　on　the　door　and　retreated　sullenly　into　a　corner　as　Fisher　continued　to　address　him　in　a　flowing　monologue。

〃Probably　you　are　the　poacher　who　says　he　isn't　a　poacher。　He　says　he's　a　landed　proprietor；　but　he　will　permit　me　to　inform　him　that；　whatever　he　is；　he's　a　fool。　What　hope　can　there　ever　be　of　a　free　peasantry　in　England　if　the　peasants　themselves　are　such　snobs　as　to　want　to　be　gentlemen？　How　can　we　make　a　democracy　with　no　democrats？　As　it　is；　you　want　to　be　a　landlord　and　so　you　consent　to　be　a　criminal。　And　in　that；　you　know；　you　are　rather　like　somebody　else。　And；　now　I　think　of　it；　perhaps　you　are　somebody　else。〃

There　was　a　silence　broken　by　breathing　from　the　corner　and　the　murmur　of　the　rising　storm；　that　came　in　through　the　small　grating　above　the　man's　head。　Horne　Fisher　continued：

〃Are　you　only　a　servant；　perhaps；　that　rather　sinister　old　servant　who　was　butler　to　Hawker　and　Verner？　If　so；　you　are　certainly　the　only　link　between　the　two　periods。　But　if　so；　why　do　you　degrade　yourself　to　serve　this　dirty　foreigner；　when　you　at　least　saw　the　last　of　a　genuine　national　gentry？　People　like　you　are　generally　at　least　patriotic。　Doesn't　England　mean　anything　to　you；　Mr。　Usher？　All　of　which　eloquence　is　possibly　wasted；　as　perhaps　you　are　not　Mr。　Usher。

〃More　likely　you　are　Verner　himself；　and　it's　no　good　wasting　eloquence　to　make　you　ashamed　of　yourself。　Nor　is　it　any　good　to　curse　you　for　corrupting　England；　nor　are　you　the　right　person　to　curse。　It　is　the　English　who　deserve　to　be　cursed；　and　are　cursed；　because　they　allowed　such　vermin　to　crawl　into　the　high　places　of　their　heroes　and　their　kings。　I　won't　dwell　on　the　idea　that　you're　Verner；　or　the　throttling　might　begin；　after　all。　Is　there　anyone　else　you　could　be？　Surely　you're　not　some　servant　of　the　other　rival　organization。　I　can't　believe　you're　Gryce；　the　agent；　and　yet　Gryce　had　a　spark　of　the　fanatic　in　his　eye；　too；　and　men　will　do　extraordinary　things　in　these　paltry　feuds　of　politics。　Or　if　not　the　servant；　is　it　the　。　。　。　No；　I　can't　believe　it　。　。　。　not　the　red　blood　of　manhood　and　liberty　。　。　。　not　the　democratic　ideal　。　。　。〃

He　sprang　up　in　excitement；　and　at　the　same　moment　a　growl　of　thunder　came　through　the　grating　beyond。　The　storm　had　broken；　and　with　it　a　new　light　broke　on　his　mind。　There　was　something　else　that　might　happen　in　a　moment。

〃Do　you　know　what　that　means？〃　he　cried。　〃It　means　that　God　himself　may　hold　a　candle　to　show　me　your　infernal　face。〃

Then　next　moment　came　a　crash　of　thunder；　but　before　the　thunder　a　white　light　had　filled　the　whole　room　for　a　single　split　second。

Fisher　had　seen　two　things　in　front　of　him。　One　was　the　black…and…white　pattern　of　the　iron　grating　against　the　sky；　the　other　was　the　face　in　the　corner。　It　was　the　face　of　his　brother。

Nothing　came　from　Horne　Fisher's　lips　except　a　Christian　name；　which　was　followed　by　a　silence　more　dreadful　than　the　dark。　At　last　the　other　figure　stirred　and　sprang　up；　and　the　voice　of　Harry　Fisher　was　heard　for　the　first　time　in　that　horrible　room。

〃You've　seen　me；　I　suppose；〃　he　said；　〃and　we　may　as　well　have　a　light　now。　You　could　have　turned　it　on　at　any　time；　if　you'd　found　the　switch。〃

He　pressed　a　button　in　the　wall　and　all　the　details　of　that　room　sprang　into　something　stronger　than　daylight。　Indeed；　the　details　were　so　unexpected　that　for　a　moment　they　turned　the　captive's　rocking　mind　from　the　last　personal　revelation。　The　room；　so　far　from　being　a　dungeon　cell；　was　more　like　a　drawing…room；　even　a　lady's　drawing…room；　except　for　some　boxes　of　　cigars　and　bottles　of　wine　that　were　stacked　with　　books　and　magazines　on　a　side　table。　A　second　glance　showed　him　that　the　more　masculine　fittings　were　quite　recent；　and　that　the　more　feminine　background　was　quite　old。　His　eye　caught　a　strip　of　faded　tapestry；　which　startled　him　into　speech；　to　the　momentary　oblivion　of　bigger　matters。

〃This　place　was　furnished　from　the　great　house；〃　he　said。

〃Yes；〃　replied　the　other；　〃and　I　think　you　know　why。〃　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

〃I　think　I　do；〃　said　Horne　Fisher；　〃and　before　I　go　on　to　more　extraordinary　things　I　will；　say　what　I　think。　Squire　Hawker　played　both　the　bigamist　and　the　bandit。　His　first　wife　was　not　dead　when　he　married　the　Jewess；　she　was　imprisoned　on　this　island。　She　bore　him　a　child　here；　who　now　haunts　his　birthplace　under　the　name　of　Long　Adam。　A　bankruptcy　company　promoter　named　Werner　discovered　the　secret　and　blackmailed　the　squire　into　surrendering　the　estate。　That's　all　quite　clear　and　very　easy。　　And　now　let　me　go　on　to　something　more　difficult。　And　that　is　for　you　to　explain　what　the　devil　you　are　doing　kidnaping　your　born　brother。

After　a　pause　Henry　Fisher　answered：

〃I　suppose　you　didn't　expect　to　see　me；〃　he　said。　〃But；　after　all；　what　could　you　expect？〃'

〃I'm　afraid　I　don't　follow；〃　said　Horne　Fisher。

〃I　mean　what　else　could　you　expect；　after　making　such　a　muck　of　it？〃　said　his　brother；　sulkily。　〃We　all　thought　you　were　so　clever。　How　could　we　know　you　were　going　to　bewell；　really；　such　a　rotten　failure？〃

〃This　is　rather　curious；〃　said　the　candidate；　frowning。　〃Without　vanity；　I　was　not　under　the　impression　that　my　candidature　was　a　failure。　All　the　big　meetings　were　successful　and　crowds　of　people　have　promised　me　votes。〃

〃I　should　jolly　well　think　they　had；〃　said'　Henry；　grimly。　〃You've　made　a　landslide　with　your　confounded　acres　and　a　cow；　and　Verner　can　hardly　get　a　vote　anywhere。　Oh；　it's　too　rotten　for　anything！〃

〃What　on　earth　do　you　mean？〃

〃Why；　you　lunatic；〃　cried　Henry；　in　tones　of　ringing　sincerity；　〃you　don't　suppose　you　were　meant　to　WIN　the　seat；　did　you？　Oh；　it'