A copy of the work (for the date of my tale is already yesterday) still figured in dusty solitude12 in the bookstall at Waterloo; and Gideon, as he passed with his ticket for Hampton Court, smiled contemptuously at the creature of his thoughts. What an idle ambition was the author’s! How far beneath him was the practice of that childish art! With his hand closing on his first brief, he felt himself a man at last; and the muse7 who presides over the police romance, a lady presumably of French extraction, fled his neighbourhood, and returned to join the dance round the springs of Helicon, among her Grecian sisters.
Robust13, practical reflection still cheered the young barrister upon his journey. Again and again he selected the little country-house in its islet of great oaks, which he was to make his future home. Like a prudent14 householder, he projected improvements as he passed; to one he added a stable, to another a tennis-court, a third he supplied with a becoming rustic15 boat-house.
‘How little a while ago,’ he could not but reflect, ‘I was a careless young dog with no thought but to be comfortable! I cared for nothing but boating and detective novels. I would have passed an old-fashioned country-house with large kitchen-garden, stabling, boat-house, and spacious16 offices, without so much as a look, and certainly would have made no enquiry as to the drains. How a man ripens17 with the years!’
The intelligent reader will perceive the ravages18 of Miss Hazeltine. Gideon had carried Julia straight to Mr Bloomfield’s house; and that gentleman, having been led to understand she was the victim of oppression, had noisily espoused19 her cause. He worked himself into a fine breathing heat; in which, to a man of his temperament20, action became needful.
‘I do not know which is the worse,’ he cried, ‘the fraudulent old villain21 or the unmanly young cub24. I will write to the Pall25 Mall and expose them. Nonsense, sir; they must be exposed! It’s a public duty. Did you not tell me the fellow was a Tory? O, the uncle is a Radical26 lecturer, is he? No doubt the uncle has been grossly wronged. But of course, as you say, that makes a change; it becomes scarce so much a public duty.’
And he sought and instantly found a fresh outlet27 for his alacrity28. Miss Hazeltine (he now perceived) must be kept out of the way; his houseboat was lying ready — he had returned but a day or two before from his usual cruise; there was no place like a houseboat for concealment29; and that very morning, in the teeth of the easterly gale30, Mr and Mrs Bloomfield and Miss Julia Hazeltine had started forth on their untimely voyage. Gideon pled in vain to be allowed to join the party. ‘No, Gid,’ said his uncle. ‘You will be watched; you must keep away from us.’ Nor had the barrister ventured to contest this strange illusion; for he feared if he rubbed off any of the romance, that Mr Bloomfield might weary of the whole affair. And his discretion31 was rewarded; for the Squirradical, laying a heavy hand upon his nephew’s shoulder, had added these notable expressions: ‘I see what you are after, Gid. But if you’re going to get the girl, you have to work, sir.’
These pleasing sounds had cheered the barrister all day, as he sat reading in chambers32; they continued to form the ground-base of his manly23 musings as he was whirled to Hampton Court; even when he landed at the station, and began to pull himself together for his delicate interview, the voice of Uncle Ned and the eyes of Julia were not forgotten.
But now it began to rain surprises: in all Hampton Court there was no Kurnaul Villa22, no Count Tarnow, and no count. This was strange; but, viewed in the light of the incoherency of his instructions, not perhaps inexplicable33; Mr Dickson had been lunching, and he might have made some fatal oversight34 in the address. What was the thoroughly35 prompt, manly, and businesslike step? thought Gideon; and he answered himself at once: ‘A telegram, very laconic36.’ Speedily the wires were flashing the following very important missive: ‘Dickson, Langham Hotel. Villa and persons both unknown here, suppose erroneous address; follow self next train. — Forsyth.’ And at the Langham Hotel, sure enough, with a brow expressive37 of dispatch and intellectual effort, Gideon descended38 not long after from a smoking hansom.
I do not suppose that Gideon will ever forget the Langham Hotel. No Count Tarnow was one thing; no John Dickson and no Ezra Thomas, quite another. How, why, and what next, danced in his bewildered brain; from every centre of what we playfully call the human intellect incongruous messages were telegraphed; and before the hubbub39 of dismay had quite subsided40, the barrister found himself driving furiously for his chambers. There was at least a cave of refuge; it was at least a place to think in; and he climbed the stair, put his key in the lock and opened the door, with some approach to hope.
It was all dark within, for the night had some time fallen; but Gideon knew his room, he knew where the matches stood on the end of the chimney-piece; and he advanced boldly, and in so doing dashed himself against a heavy body; where (slightly altering the expressions of the song) no heavy body should have been. There had been nothing there when Gideon went out; he had locked the door behind him, he had found it locked on his return, no one could have entered, the furniture could not have changed its own position. And yet undeniably there was a something there. He thrust out his hands in the darkness. Yes, there was something, something large, something smooth, something cold.
‘Heaven forgive me!’ said Gideon, ‘it feels like a piano.’
And the next moment he remembered the vestas in his waistcoat pocket and had struck a light.
It was indeed a piano that met his doubtful gaze; a vast and costly41 instrument, stained with the rains of the afternoon and defaced with recent scratches. The light of the vesta was reflected from the varnished42 sides, like a staice in quiet water; and in the farther end of the room the shadow of that strange visitor loomed43 bulkily and wavered on the wall.
Gideon let the match burn to his fingers, and the darkness closed once more on his bewilderment. Then with trembling hands he lit the lamp and drew near. Near or far, there was no doubt of the fact: the thing was a piano. There, where by all the laws of God and man it was impossible that it should be — there the thing impudently44 stood. Gideon threw open the keyboard and struck a chord. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the room. ‘Is there anything wrong with me?’ he thought, with a pang45; and drawing in a seat, obstinately46 persisted in his attempts to ravish silence, now with sparkling arpeggios, now with a sonata47 of Beethoven’s which (in happier days) he knew to be one of the loudest pieces of that powerful composer. Still not a sound. He gave the Broadwood two great bangs with his clenched48 first. All was still as the grave. The young barrister started to his feet.
‘I am stark-staring mad,’ he cried aloud, ‘and no one knows it but myself. God’s worst curse has fallen on me.’
His fingers encountered his watch-chain; instantly he had plucked forth his watch and held it to his ear. He could hear it ticking.
‘I am not deaf,’ he said aloud. ‘I am only insane. My mind has quitted me for ever.’
He looked uneasily about the room, and — gazed with lacklustre eyes at the chair in which Mr Dickson had installed himself. The end of a cigar lay near on the fender.
‘No,’ he thought, ‘I don’t believe that was a dream; but God knows my mind is failing rapidly. I seem to be hungry, for instance; it’s probably another hallucination. Still I might try. I shall have one more good meal; I shall go to the Cafe Royal, and may possibly be removed from there direct to the asylum49.’
He wondered with morbid50 interest, as he descended the stairs, how he would first betray his terrible condition — would he attack a waiter? or eat glass? — and when he had mounted into a cab, he bade the man drive to Nichol’s, with a lurking51 fear that there was no such place.
The flaring52, gassy entrance of the cafe speedily set his mind at rest; he was cheered besides to recognize his favourite waiter; his orders appeared to be coherent; the dinner, when it came, was quite a sensible meal, and he ate it with enjoyment53. ‘Upon my word,’ he reflected, ‘I am about tempted54 to indulge a hope. Have I been hasty? Have I done what Robert Skill would have done?’ Robert Skill (I need scarcely mention) was the name of the principal character in Who Put Back the Clock? It had occurred to the author as a brilliant and probable invention; to readers of a critical turn, Robert appeared scarce upon a level with his surname; but it is the difficulty of the police romance, that the reader is always a man of such vastly greater ingenuity55 than the writer. In the eyes of his creator, however, Robert Skill was a word to conjure56 with; the thought braced57 and spurred him; what that brilliant creature would have done Gideon would do also. This frame of mind is not uncommon58; the distressed59 general, the baited divine, the hesitating author, decide severally to do what Napoleon, what St Paul, what Shakespeare would have done; and there remains60 only the minor61 question, What is that? In Gideon’s case one thing was clear: Skill was a man of singular decision, he would have taken some step (whatever it was) at once; and the only step that Gideon could think of was to return to his chambers.
This being achieved, all further inspiration failed him, and he stood pitifully staring at the instrument of his confusion. To touch the keys again was more than he durst venture on; whether they had maintained their former silence, or responded with the tones of the last trump62, it would have equally dethroned his resolution. ‘It may be a practical jest,’ he reflected, ‘though it seems elaborate and costly. And yet what else can it be? It must be a practical jest.’ And just then his eye fell upon a feature which seemed corroborative63 of that view: the pagoda64 of cigars which Michael had erected65 ere he left the chambers. ‘Why that?’ reflected Gideon. ‘It seems entirely irresponsible.’ And drawing near, he gingerly demolished66 it. ‘A key,’ he thought. ‘Why that? And why so conspicuously67 placed?’ He made the circuit of the instrument, and perceived the keyhole at the back. ‘Aha! this is what the key is for,’ said he. ‘They wanted me to look inside. Stranger and stranger.’ And with that he turned the key and raised the lid.
In what antics of agony, in what fits of flighty resolution, in what collapses68 of despair, Gideon consumed the night, it would be ungenerous to enquire69 too closely.
That trill of tiny song with which the eaves-birds of London welcome the approach of day found him limp and rumpled70 and bloodshot, and with a mind still vacant of resource. He rose and looked forth unrejoicingly on blinded windows, an empty street, and the grey daylight dotted with the yellow lamps. There are mornings when the city seems to awake with a sick headache; this was one of them; and still the twittering reveille of the sparrows stirred in Gideon’s spirit.
‘Day here,’ he thought, ‘and I still helpless! This must come to an end.’ And he locked up the piano, put the key in his pocket, and set forth in quest of coffee. As he went, his mind trudged71 for the hundredth time a certain mill-road of terrors, misgivings72, and regrets. To call in the police, to give up the body, to cover London with handbills describing John Dickson and Ezra Thomas, to fill the papers with paragraphs, Mysterious Occurrence in the Temple — Mr Forsyth admitted to bail73, this was one course, an easy course, a safe course; but not, the more he reflected on it, not a pleasant one. For, was it not to publish abroad a number of singular facts about himself? A child ought to have seen through the story of these adventurers, and he had gaped74 and swallowed it. A barrister of the least self-respect should have refused to listen to clients who came before him in a manner so irregular, and he had listened. And O, if he had only listened; but he had gone upon their errand — he, a barrister, uninstructed even by the shadow of a solicitor75 — upon an errand fit only for a private detective; and alas76! — and for the hundredth time the blood surged to his brow — he had taken their money! ‘No,’ said he, ‘the thing is as plain as St Paul’s. I shall be dishonoured77! I have smashed my career for a five-pound note.’
Between the possibility of being hanged in all innocence78, and the certainty of a public and merited disgrace, no gentleman of spirit could long hesitate. After three gulps79 of that hot, snuffy, and muddy beverage80, that passes on the streets of London for a decoction of the coffee berry, Gideon’s mind was made up. He would do without the police. He must face the other side of the dilemma81, and be Robert Skill in earnest. What would Robert Skill have done? How does a gentleman dispose of a dead body, honestly come by? He remembered the inimitable story of the hunchback; reviewed its course, and dismissed it for a worthless guide. It was impossible to prop82 a corpse83 on the corner of Tottenham Court Road without arousing fatal curiosity in the bosoms84 of the passers-by; as for lowering it down a London chimney, the physical obstacles were insurmountable. To get it on board a train and drop it out, or on the top of an omnibus and drop it off, were equally out of the question. To get it on a yacht and drop it overboard, was more conceivable; but for a man of moderate means it seemed extravagant85. The hire of the yacht was in itself a consideration; the subsequent support of the whole crew (which seemed a necessary consequence) was simply not to be thought of. His uncle and the houseboat here occurred in very luminous86 colours to his mind. A musical composer (say, of the name of Jimson) might very well suffer, like Hogarth’s musician before him, from the disturbances87 of London. He might very well be pressed for time to finish an opera — say the comic opera Orange Pekoe — Orange Pekoe, music by Jimson —‘this young maestro, one of the most promising88 of our recent English school’— vigorous entrance of the drums, etc. — the whole character of Jimson and his music arose in bulk before the mind of Gideon. What more likely than Jimson’s arrival with a grand piano (say, at Padwick), and his residence in a houseboat alone with the unfinished score of Orange Pekoe? His subsequent disappearance89, leaving nothing behind but an empty piano case, it might be more difficult to account for. And yet even that was susceptible90 of explanation. For, suppose Jimson had gone mad over a fugal passage, and had thereupon destroyed the accomplice91 of his infamy92, and plunged93 into the welcome river? What end, on the whole, more probable for a modern musician?
‘By Jove, I’ll do it,’ cried Gideon. ‘Jimson is the boy!’
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1
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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enactment
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| n.演出，担任…角色；制订，通过 | |
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conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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ripens
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的第三人称单数 ) | |
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ravages
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| 劫掠后的残迹，破坏的结果，毁坏后的残迹 | |
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espoused
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| v.（决定）支持，拥护（目标、主张等）( espouse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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oversight
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| n.勘漏，失察，疏忽 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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impudently
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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sonata
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| n.奏鸣曲 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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50
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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51
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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52
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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53
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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54
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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55
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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56
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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57
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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58
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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59
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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60
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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62
trump
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| n.王牌，法宝；v.打出王牌，吹喇叭 | |
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corroborative
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| adj.确证（性）的，确凿的 | |
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64
pagoda
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| n.宝塔（尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔），（印度教或佛教的）塔式庙宇 | |
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65
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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66
demolished
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| v.摧毁( demolish的过去式和过去分词 )；推翻；拆毁（尤指大建筑物）；吃光 | |
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67
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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68
collapses
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| 折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 )； 倒塌； 崩溃； （尤指工作劳累后）坐下 | |
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69
enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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70
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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72
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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73
bail
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| v.舀（水），保释；n.保证金，保释，保释人 | |
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74
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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75
solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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76
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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77
dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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78
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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79
gulps
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| n.一大口（尤指液体）( gulp的名词复数 )v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的第三人称单数 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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80
beverage
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| n.(水，酒等之外的)饮料 | |
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81
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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82
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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83
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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84
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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85
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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86
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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87
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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88
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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89
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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90
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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91
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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92
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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93
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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