the man who knew too much-第9节

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〃I'm　afraid　we　have　no　time　for　it；〃　said　Wilson；　coldly。　〃If　this　man　is　really　coming　back；　I　must　give　my　orders　at　once。〃

〃I　think　I'll　go　on　with　it；　though；〃　observed　Fisher；　staring　at　the　roof　with　insolent　serenity。

〃I　must　ask　you；　Mr。　Fisher；　to　let　me　conduct　my　inquiry　on　my　own　lines；〃　said　Wilson；　firmly。　〃I　am　the　officer　in　charge　now。〃

〃Yes；〃　remarked　Horne　Fisher；　softly；　but　with　an　accent　that　somehow　chilled　the　hearer。　〃Yes。　But　why？〃

Sir　Walter　was　staring；　for　he　had　never　seen　his　rather　lackadaisical　young　friend　look　like　that　before。　Fisher　was　looking　at　Wilson　with　lifted　lids；　and　the　eyes　under　them　seemed　to　have　shed　or　shifted　a　film；　as　do　the　eyes　of　an　eagle。

〃Why　are　you　the　officer　in　charge　now？〃　he　asked。　〃Why　can　you　conduct　the　inquiry　on　your　own　lines　now？　How　did　it　come　about；　I　wonder；　that　the　elder　officers　are　not　here　to　interfere　with　anything　you　do？〃

Nobody　spoke；　and　nobody　can　say　how　soon　anyone　would　have　collected　his　wits　to　speak　when　a　noise　came　from　without。　It　was　the　heavy　and　hollow　sound　of　a　blow　upon　the　door　of　the　tower；　and　to　their　shaken　spirits　it　sounded　strangely　like　the　hammer　of　doom。

The　wooden　door　of　the　tower　moved　on　its　rusty　hinges　under　the　hand　that　struck　it　and　Prince　Michael　came　into　the　room。　Nobody　had　the　smallest　doubt　about　his　identity。　His　light　clothes；　though　frayed　with　his　adventures；　were　of　fine　and　almost　foppish　cut；　and　he　wore　a　pointed　beard；　or　imperial；　perhaps　as　a　further　reminiscence　of　Louis　Napoleon；　but　he　was　a　much　taller　and　more　graceful　man　that　his　prototype。　Before　anyone　could　speak　he　had　silenced　everyone　for　an　instant　with　a　slight　but　splendid　gesture　of　hospitality。

〃Gentlemen；〃　he　said；　〃this　is　a　poor　place　now；　but　you　are　heartily　welcome。〃

Wilson　was　the　first　to　recover；　and　he　took　a　stride　toward　the　newcomer。

〃Michael　O'Neill；　I　arrest　you　in　the　king's　name　for　the　murder　of　Francis　Morton　and　James　Nolan。　It　is　my　duty　to　warn　you〃

〃No；　no；　Mr。　Wilson；〃　cried　Fisher；　suddenly。　〃You　shall　not　commit　a　third　murder。〃

Sir　Walter　Carey　rose　from　his　chair；　which　fell　over　with　a　crash　behind　him。　〃What　does　all　this　mean？〃　he　called　out　in　an　authoritative　manner。

〃It　means；〃　said　Fisher；　〃that　this　man；　Hooker　Wilson；　as　soon　as　he　had　put　his　head　in　at　that　window；　killed　his　two　comrades　who　had　put　their　heads　in　at　the　other　windows；　by　firing　across　the　empty　room。　That　is　what　it　means。　And　if　you　want　to　know；　count　how　many　times　he　is　supposed　to　have　fired　and　then　count　the　charges　left　in　his　revolver。〃

Wilson；　who　was　still　sitting　on　the　table；　abruptly　put　a　hand　out　for　the　weapon　that　lay　beside　him。　But　the　next　movement　was　the　most　unexpected　of　all；　for　the　prince　standing　in　the　doorway　passed　suddenly　from　the　dignity　of　a　statue　to　the　swiftness　of　an　acrobat　and　rent　the　revolver　out　of　the　detective's　hand。

〃You　dog！〃　he　cried。　〃So　you　are　the　type　of　English　truth；　as　I　am　of　Irish　tragedyyou　who　come　to　kill　me；　wading　through　the　blood　of　your　brethren。　If　they　had　fallen　in　a　feud　on　the　hillside；　it　would　be　called　murder；　and　yet　your　sin　might　be　forgiven　you。　But　I；　who　am　innocent；　I　was　to　be　slain　with　ceremony。　There　would　belong　speeches　and　patient　judges　listening　to　my　vain　plea　of　innocence；　noting　down　my　despair　and　disregarding　it。　Yes；　that　is　what　I　call　assassination。　But　killing　may　be　no　murder；　there　is　one　shot　left　in　this　little　gun；　and　I　know　where　it　should　go。〃

Wilson　turned　quickly　on　the　table；　and　even　as　he　turned　he　twisted　in　agony；　for　Michael　shot　him　through　the　body　where　he　sat；　so　that　he　tumbled　off　the　table　like　lumber。

The　police　rushed　to　lift　him；　Sir　Walter　stood　speechless；　and　then；　with　a　strange　and　weary　gesture；　Horne　Fisher　spoke。

〃You　are　indeed　a　type　of　the　Irish　tragedy；〃　he　said。　〃You　were　entirely　in　the　right；　and　you　have　put　yourself　in　the　wrong。〃

The　prince's　face　was　like　marble　for　a　space　then　there　dawned　in　his　eyes　a　light　not　unlike　that　of　despair。　He　laughed　suddenly　and　flung　the　smoking　pistol　on　the　ground。

〃I　am　indeed　in　the　wrong；〃　he　said。　〃I　have　committed　a　crime　that　may　justly　bring　a　curse　on　me　and　my　children。〃

Horne　Fisher　did　not　seem　entirely　satisfied　with　this　very　sudden　repentance；　he　kept　his　eyes　on　the　man　and　only　said；　in　a　low　voice；　〃What　crime　do　you　mean？〃

〃I　have　helped　English　justice；〃　replied　Prince　Michael。　〃I　have　avenged　your　king's　officers；　I　have　done　the　work　of　his　hangman。　For　that　truly　I　deserve　to　be　hanged。〃

And　he　turned　to　the　police　with　a　gesture　that　did　not　so　much　surrender　to　them；　but　rather　command　them　to　arrest　him。

This　was　the　story　that　Horne　Fisher　told　to　Harold　March；　the　journalist；　many　years　after；　in　a　little；　but　luxurious；　restaurant　near　Picca　dilly。　He　had　invited　March　to　dinner　some　time　after　the　affair　he　called　〃The　Face　in　the　Target；〃　and　the　conversation　had　naturally　turned　on　that　mystery　and　afterward　on　earlier　memories　of　Fisher's　life　and　the　way　in　which　he　was　led　to　study　such　problems　as　those　of　Prince　Michael。　Horne　Fisher　was　fifteen　years　older；　his　thin　hair　had　faded　to　frontal　baldness；　and　his　long；　thin　hands　dropped　less　with　affectation　and　more　with　fatigue。　And　he　told　the　story　of　the　Irish　adventure　of　his　youth；　because　it　recorded　the　first　occasion　on　which　he　had　ever　come　in　contact　with　crime；　or　discovered　how　darkly　and　how　terribly　crime　can　be　entangled　with　law。

〃Hooker　Wilson　was　the　first　criminal　I　ever　knew；　and　he　was　a　policeman；〃　explained　Fisher；　twirling　his　wine　glass。　〃And　all　my　life　has　been　a　mixed…up　business　of　the　sort。　He　was　a　man　of　very　real　talent；　and　perhaps　genius；　and　well　worth　studying；　both　as　a　detective　and　a　criminal。　His　white　face　and　red　hair　were　typical　of　him；　for　he　was　one　of　those　who　are　cold　and　yet　on　fire　for　fame；　and　he　could　control　anger；　but　not　ambition。　He　swallowed　the　snubs　of　his　superiors　in　that　first　quarrel；　though　he　boiled　with　resentment；　but　when　he　suddenly　saw　the　two　heads　dark　against　the　dawn　and　framed　in　the　two　windows；　he　could　not　miss　the　chance；　not　only　of　revenge；　but　of　the　removal　of　the　two　obstacles　to　his　promotion。　He　was　a　dead　shot　and　counted　on　silencing　both；　though　proof　against　him　would　have　been　hard　in　any　case。　But；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　he　had　a　narrow　escape；　in　the　case　of　Nolan；　who　lived　just　long　enough　to　say；　'Wilson'　and　point。　We　thought　he　was　summoning　help　for　his　comrade；　but　he　was　really　denouncing　his　murderer。　After　that　it　was　easy　to　throw　down　the　ladder　above　him　（for　a　man　up　a　ladder　cannot　see　clearly　what　is　below　and　behind）　and　to　throw　himself　on　the　ground　as　another　victim　of　the　catastrophe。

〃But　there　was　mixed　up　with　his　murderous　ambition　a　real　belief；　not　only　in　his　own　talents；　but　in　his　own　theories。　He　did　believe　in　what　he　called　a　fresh　eye；　and　he　did　want　scope　for　fresh　methods。　There　was　something　in　his　view；　but　it　failed　where　such　things　commonly　fail；　because　the　fresh　eye　cannot　see　the　unseen。　It　is　true　about　the　ladder　and　the　scarecrow；　but　not　about　the　life　and　the　soul；　and　he　made　a　bad　mistake　about　what　a　man　like　Michael　would　do　when　he　heard　a　woman　scream。　All　Michael's　very　vanity　and　vainglory　made　him　rush　out　at　once；　he　would　have　walked　into　Dublin　Castle　for　a　lady's　glove。　Call　it　his　pose　or　what　you　will；　but　he　would　have　done　it。　What　happened　when　he　met　her　is　another　story；　and　one　we　may　never　know；　but　from　tales　I've　heard　since；　they　must　have　been　reconciled。　Wilson　was　wrong　there；　but　there　was　something；　for　all　that；　in　his　notion　that　the　newcomer　sees　most；　and　that　the　man　on　the　spot　may　know　too　much　to　know　anything。　He　was　right　about　some　things。　He　was　right　about　me。〃

〃About　you？〃　asked　Harold　March　in　some　wonder。

〃I　am　the　man　who　knows　too　much　to　know　anything；　or；　at　any　rate；　to　do　anything；〃　said　Horne　Fisher。　〃I　don't　mean　especially　about　Ireland。　I　mean　about　England。　I　mean　about　the　whole　way　we　are　governed；　and　perhaps　the　only　way　we　can　be　governed。　You　asked　me　just　now　what　became　of　the　survivors　of　that　tragedy。　Well；　Wilson　recovered　and　we　managed　to　persuade　him　to　retire。　But　we　had　to　pension　that　damnable　murderer　more　magnificently　than　any　hero　who　ever　fought　for　England。　I　managed　to　save　Michael　from　the　worst；　but　we　had　to　send　that　perfectly　innocent　man　to　penal　servitude　for　a　crime　we　know　he　never　committed；　and　it　was　only　afterward　that　we　could　connive　in　a　sneakish　way　at　his　escape。　And　Sir　Walter　Carey　is　Prime　Minister　of　this　country；　which　he　would　probably　never　have　been　if　the　truth　had　been　told　of　such　a　horrible　scandal　in　his　department。　It　might　have　done　for　us　altogether　in　Ireland；　it　would　certainly　have　done　for　him。　And　he　is　my　father's　old　friend；　and　has　always　smothered　me　with　kindness。　I　am　too　tangled　up　with　the　whole　thing；　you　see；　and　I　was　certainly　never　born　to　set　it　right。　You　look　distressed；　not　to　say　shocked；　and　I'm　not　at　all　offended　at　it。　Let　us　change　the　subject　by　all　means；　if　you　like。　What　do　you　think　of　this