the agony column-第4节

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here　was　I　in　this　Englishman's　rooms；　boldly　flaunting　in　his　face　a　warm　note　of　commendation　from　a　cousin　who　did　not　exist！

〃I　owe　you　an　apology；〃　I　said。　　I　tried　to　be　as　haughty　as　he；　and　fell　short　by　about　two　miles。　　〃I　brought　the　letter　in　good　faith。〃

〃No　doubt　of　that；〃　he　answered。

〃Evidently　it　was　given　me　by　some　adventurer　for　purposes　of　his　own；〃　I　went　on；　〃though　I　am　at　a　loss　to　guess　what　they　could　have　been。〃

〃I'm　frightfully　sorry　…　really；〃　said　he。　　But　he　said　it　with　the　London　inflection；　which　plainly　implies：　〃I'm　nothing　of　the　sort。〃

A　painful　pause。　　I　felt　that　he　ought　to　give　me　back　the　letter；　but　he　made　no　move　to　do　so。　　And；　of　course；　I　didn't　ask　for　it。

〃Ah　…　er　…　good　night；〃　said　I　and　hurried　toward　the　door。

〃Good　night；〃　he　answered；　and　I　left　him　standing　there　with　Archie's　accursed　letter　in　his　hand。

That　is　the　story　of　how　I　came　to　this　house　in　Adelphi　Terrace。　There　is　mystery　in　it；　you　must　admit；　my　lady。　　Once　or　twice　since　that　uncomfortable　call　I　have　passed　the　captain　on　the　stairs；　but　the　halls　are　very　dark；　and　for　that　I　am　grateful。　I　hear　him　often　above　me；　in　fact；　I　hear　him　as　I　write　this。

Who　was　Archie？　　What　was　the　idea？　　I　wonder。

Ah；　well；　I　have　my　garden；　and　for　that　I　am　indebted　to　Archie　the　garrulous。　　It　is　nearly　midnight　now。　　The　roar　of　London　has　died　away　to　a　fretful　murmur；　and　somehow　across　this　baking　town　a　breeze　has　found　its　way。　　It　whispers　over　the　green　grass；　in　the　ivy　that　climbs　my　wall；　in　the　soft　murky　folds　of　my　curtains。　　Whispers　…　what？

Whispers；　perhaps；　the　dreams　that　go　with　this；　the　first　of　my　letters　to　you。　　They　are　dreams　that　even　I　dare　not　whisper　yet。

And　so　…　good　night。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　STRAWBERRY　MAN。



CHAPTER　III

With　a　smile　that　betrayed　unusual　interest；　the　daughter　of　the　Texas　statesman　read　that　letter　on　Thursday　morning　in　her　room　at　the　Carlton。　　There　was　no　question　about　it　…　the　first　epistle　from　the　strawberry…mad　one　had　caught　and　held　her　attention。　　All　day；　as　she　dragged　her　father　through　picture　galleries；　she　found　herself　looking　forward　to　another　morning；　wondering；　eager。

But　on　the　following　morning　Sadie　Haight；　the　maid　through　whom　this　odd　correspondence　was　passing；　had　no　letter　to　deliver。　　The　news　rather　disappointed　the　daughter　of　Texas。　　At　noon　she　insisted　on　returning　to　the　hotel　for　luncheon；　though；　as　her　father　pointed　out；　they　were　far　from　the　Canton　at　the　time。　　Her　journey　was　rewarded。　　Letter　number　two　was　waiting；　and　as　she　read　she　gasped。

DEAR　LADY　AT　THE　CARLTON：　I　am　writing　this　at　three　in　the　morning；　with　London　silent　as　the　grave；　beyond　our　garden。　　That　I　am　so　late　in　getting　to　it　is　not　because　I　did　not　think　of　you　all　day　yesterday；　not　because　I　did　not　sit　down　at　my　desk　at　seven　last　evening　to　address　you。　　Believe　me；　only　the　most　startling；　the　most　appalling　accident　could　have　held　me　up。

That　most　startling；　most　appalling　accident　has　happened。

I　am　tempted　to　give　you　the　news　at　once　in　one　striking　and　terrible　sentence。　　And　I　could　write　that　sentence。　　A　tragedy；　wrapped　in　mystery　as　impenetrable　as　a　London　fog；　has　befallen　our　quiet　little　house　in　Adelphi　Terrace。　　In　their　basement　room　the　Walters　family；　sleepless；　overwhelmed；　sit　silent；　on　the　dark　stairs　outside　my　door　I　hear　at　intervals　the　tramp　of　men　on　unhappy　missions　…　But　no；　I　must　go　back　to　the　very　start　of　it　all：

Last　night　I　had　an　early　dinner　at　Simpson's；　in　the　Strand　…　so　early　that　I　was　practically　alone　in　the　restaurant。　　The　letter　I　was　about　to　write　to　you　was　uppermost　in　my　mind　and；　having　quickly　dined；　I　hurried　back　to　my　rooms。　　I　remember　clearly　that；　as　I　stood　in　the　street　before　our　house　fumbling　for　my　keys；　Big　Ben　on　the　Parliament　Buildings　struck　the　hour　of　seven。　The　chime　of　the　great　bell　rang　out　in　our　peaceful　thoroughfare　like　a　loud　and　friendly　greeting。

Gaining　my　study；　I　sat　down　at　once　to　write。　　Over　my　head　I　could　hear　Captain　Fraser…Freer　moving　about　…　attiring　himself；　probably；　for　dinner。　　I　was　thinking；　with　an　amused　smile；　how　horrified　he　would　be　if　he　knew　that　the　crude　American　below　him　had　dined　at　the　impossible　hour　of　six；　when　suddenly　I　heard；　in　that　room　above　me；　some　stranger　talking　in　a　harsh　determined　tone。　　Then　came　the　captain's　answering　voice；　calmer；　more　dignified。　　This　conversation　went　along　for　some　time；　growing　each　moment　more　excited。　　Though　I　could　not　distinguish　a　word　of　it；　I　had　the　uncomfortable　feeling　that　there　was　a　controversy　on；　and　I　remember　feeling　annoyed　that　any　one　should　thus　interfere　with　my　composition　of　your　letter；　which　I　regarded　as　most　important；　you　may　be　Sure。

At　the　end　of　five　minutes　of　argument　there　came　the　heavy　thump…thump　of　men　struggling　above　me。　　It　recalled　my　college　days；　when　we　used　to　hear　the　fellows　in　the　room　above　us　throwing　each　other　about　in　an　excess　of　youth　and　high　spirits。　　But　this　seemed　more　grim；　more　determined；　and　I　did　not　like　it。　…　However；　I　reflected　that　it　was　none　of　my　business。　　I　tried　to　think　about　my　letter。

The　struggle　ended　with　a　particularly　heavy　thud　that　shook　our　ancient　house　to　its　foundations。　　I　sat　listening；　somehow　very　much　depressed。　　There　was　no　sound。　　It　was　not　entirely　dark　outside　…　the　long　twilight　…　and　the　frugal　Walters　had　not　lighted　the　hall　lamps。　　Somebody　was　coming　down　the　stairs　very　quietly　　…　but　their　creaking　betrayed　him。　　I　waited　for　him　to　pass　through　the　shaft　of　light　that　poured　from　the　door　open　at　my　back。　At　that　moment　Fate　intervened　in　the　shape　of　a　breeze　through　my　windows；　the　door　banged　shut；　and　a　heavy　man　rushed　by　me　in　the　darkness　and　ran　down　the　stairs。　　I　knew　he　was　heavy；　because　the　passageway　was　narrow　and　he　had　to　push　me　aside　to　get　by。　　I　heard　him　swear　beneath　his　breath。

Quickly　I　went　to　a　hall　window　at　the　far　end　that　looked　out　on　the　street。　　But　the　front　door　did　not　open；　no　one　came　out。　　I　was　puzzled　for　a　second　then　I　reentered　my　room　and　hurried　to　my　balcony。　　I　could　make　out　the　dim　figure　of　a　man　running　through　the　garden　at　the　rear　…　that　garden　of　which　I　have　so　often　spoken。　He　did　not　try　to　open　the　gate；　he　climbed　it；　and　so　disappeared　from　sight　into　the　alley。

For　a　moment　I　considered。　　These　were　odd　actions；　surely；　but　was　it　my　place　to　interfere？　　I　remembered　the　cold　stare　in　the　eyes　of　Captain　Fraser…Freer　when　I　presented　that　letter。　　I　saw　him　standing　motionless　in　his　murky　study；　as　amiable　as　a　statue。　Would　he　welcome　an　intrusion　from　me　now？

Finally　I　made　up　my　mind　to　forget　these　things　and　went　down　to　find　Walters。　　He　and　his　wife　were　eating　their　dinner　in　the　basement。　　I　told　him　what　had　happened。　　He　said　he　had　let　no　visitor　in　to　see　the　captain；　and　was　inclined　to　view　my　misgivings　with　a　cold　British　eye。　　However；　I　persuaded　him　to　go　with　me　to　the　captain's　rooms。

The　captain's　door　was　open。　　Remembering　that　in　England　the　way　of　the　intruder　is　hard；　I　ordered　Walters　to　go　first。　　He　stepped　into　the　room；　where　the　gas　flickered　feebly　in　an　aged　chandelier。

〃My　God；　sir！〃　said　Walters；　a　servant　even　now。

And　at　last　I　write　that　sentence：　Captain　Fraser…Freer　of　the　Indian　Army　lay　dead　on　the　floor；　a　smile　that　was　almost　a　sneer　on　his　handsome　English　face！

The　horror　of　it　is　strong　with　me　now　as　I　sit　in　the　silent　morning　in　this　room　of　mine　which　is　so　like　the　one　in　which　the　captain　died。　　He　had　been　stabbed　just　over　the　heart；　and　my　first　thought　was　of　that　odd　Indian　knife　which　I　had　seen　lying　on　his　study　table。　　I　turned　quickly　to　seek　it；　but　it　was　gone。　And　as　I　looked　at　the　table　it　came　to　me　that　here　in　this　dusty　room　there　must　be　finger　prints　…　many　finger　prints。

The　room　was　quite　in　order；　despite　those　sounds　of　struggle。　　One　or　two　odd　matters　met　my　eye。　　On　the　table　stood　a　box　from　a　florist　in　Bond　Street。　　The　lid　had　been　removed　and　I　saw　that　the　box　contained　a　number　of　white　asters。　　Beside　the　box　lay　a　scarf…pin　…　an　emerald　scarab。　　And　not　far　from　the　captain's　body　lay　what　is　known　…　owing　to　the　German　city　where　it　is　made　…　as　a　Homburg　hat。

I　recalled　that　it　is　most　important　at　such　times　that　nothing　be　disturbed；　and　I　turned　to　old　Walters。　　His　face　was　like　this　paper　on　which　I　write；　his　knees　trembled　beneath　him。

〃Walters；〃　said　I；　〃we　must　leave　things　just　as　they　are　until　the　police　arrive。　　Come　with　me　while　I　notify　Scotland　Yard。〃

〃Very　good；　sir；〃　said　Walters。

We　went　down　then　to　the　telephone　in　the　lower　hall；　and　I　called　up　the　Yard。　　I　was　told　that　an　inspector　would　come　at　once　and　I　went　back　to　my　room　to　wait　for　him。

You　can　well　imagine　the　feelings　that　were　mine　as　I　waited。　Before　this　mystery　should　be　solved；　I　foresaw　that　I　might　be　involved　to　a　degree　that　was　unpleasant　if　not　dangerous。　　Walters　would　remember　that　I　first　came　here　as　one　acquainted　with　the　captain。　　He　had　noted；　I　felt　sure；　the　lack　of　intimac