She addressed the waiter with perfect spontaneity.
“You may let him go, my man, for the present. But his course is nearly run, and he will be in the hands of the police sooner than he thinks.”
I did not feel myself entitled to knock the man down because the woman insulted me, though my inclination11 went that way. I was still less disposed to turn and slang her back again, being convinced that in such a contest I should not be her equal. My impulse was to seek out Mrs. Barnes, as the landlady12, and therefore responsible for all that took place in her establishment, and submit my grievances13 to her. But a glimpse that I caught of her, beating a precipitate14 retreat into her sanctum, directly she saw me glance in her direction, informed me that such a mode of procedure would be worse than vain. I turned into the coffee-room. Then, feeling that I must go somewhere to cool my brain, I quitted it almost immediately, to sally forth15 into the street.
I had brought my wares16 to a pretty market! Disaster seemed to be heaped upon disaster’s head. Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor might be mad, but there seemed to be method in her madness, and if she really was possessed17 by the fixed18 idea that I was an assassin, though I might not stand in actual peril19 of my life, I could hardly be in a more awkward situation. No wonder I had felt towards her an instinctive20 antagonism21, even when she had appeared to be most friendly. I was not sure that I had done wrong in not seeking to rebut22 even the wildest of her wild words with a greater show of gravity. The levity23 with which I had received them might be urged against me if it came to an arrest.
An arrest! At the mere24 thought of such a climax25 I involuntarily stood still. Cold sweat was on my brow.
I remembered what Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor had said about her emissaries being always on my track. For some time past I had had an uneasy feeling that my footsteps were being dogged and that I was being watched. I turned to see if any one was shadowing me now: he would have a bad time of it if I found him. I noted26 no one whose obvious attentions I could resent. But then I was in the Strand27; in that busy thoroughfare the merest tyro28 could ply29 his trade of spy without fear of premature30 detection.
I turned towards Waterloo Bridge, a sudden thought striking me as I did so. I would go for advice to Messrs. Cleaver31 and Caxton: it was through them, in the first place, I had got into this scrape; it ought to be their business to get me out of it. I went, though I might have saved myself the trouble. They expressed their willingness to undertake my defence, if it came to that, and if funds were forthcoming. But so far from giving me the sort of advice I wanted — advice which would enable me to escape the dreadful ordeal32 of the prisoner’s dock—I could see from their manner, if not from their words, that they thought it as likely as not that I was guilty of the crime which, as it seemed, was about to be imputed33 against me.
I left them, feeling very little reassured34, and sick at heart returned to the hotel. On one point I was finally resolved: under that roof I would not sleep another night. After what had happened in the morning, even Mrs. Barnes would not have the hardihood to suggest that I should continue with her any longer—even as a gratuitous35 guest.
I went straight upstairs to my bedroom meaning to put the few things together which were mine, and then, and only then, I would have an interview and an explanation with Mrs. Barnes. This was my programme, but, like so many other programmes I had arranged, it was not destined36 to be carried out.
Directly I reached the bedroom door I became conscious that some one was inside. Supposing it was the maid, who was performing her necessary routine duties, I unceremoniously entered. The person within was not, however, the attendant abigail—it was a man. He lay on his stomach on the floor, with half his length beneath the bed. It was the new waiter. There could be no mistake about the nature of his occupation—I had caught him in the act. So engrossed37 was he with his researches, that, before he had realised my presence, I had my knee on the small of his back and a stick in my hand.
“As you wouldn’t take my friendly warning, take that!”
I brought the stick down smartly on the nether38 portion of his frame. He had woke to the consciousness of what was happening at last. With unlooked-for agility39, twisting himself partially40 free, he scrambled41 from beneath the bed, I continuing, as he struggled, to get in my blows wherever I could.
“Stop this,” he gasped42, “or you’ll regret it!”
“I fancy,” I retorted, “that the regret will be yours.”
He showed more fight than I had expected. It occurred to me that perhaps, after all, the whipping might not be confined to one side only. But my blood was up—I was not likely to allow such trifles to affect me. All at once, just as I was in the very act of bringing down on him the best blow of any, he caught my wrist and gave it a sharp wrench43 which numbed44 the muscles of my arm as if they had been attacked by temporary paralysis45.
“You fool!” he said. “You don’t know what it is you are doing. I am an officer of police, and I arrest you on a charge of murder.”
He had taken my breath away with a vengeance46. I gazed at him askance.
“It is false. You are one of that woman’s spies.”
“I am nothing or the kind, as a shrewd man like you ought to be aware. I have had this case in hand from the first. I came here to play the part of a waiter with the special intention of keeping an eye on you—and I have kept an eye upon you, I fancy, to some purpose.”
“It’s all a lie!”
“Don’t talk nonsense. The game is up, my lad, and you know it. The question is, are you going to come quietly, or am I to use the bracelets—I can get plenty of assistance, I assure you, if I choose to call.”
“If you can prove to me the truth of what you say, and can show me that you really are an officer of police, I can have no objection to your doing what you conceive to be your duty, though, I declare to you, as there is a God above us, that in arresting me you are making a grievous mistake.”
The fellow eyed me with what struck me as being a grin of genuine admiration47.
“You’re a neat hand—I never saw a chap carry a thing off neater, though it’s my duty to warn you that anything which you may say will be used against you. But you’ve made a slight mistake, my lad—perhaps you didn’t think I found it.”
He picked up something from the coverlet. It was a long, thin blade, of a fashion which I had never seen before. It had a point of exquisite48 fineness. Here and there the gleaming steel was obscured by what seemed stains of rust49.
“Perhaps it is owing to my stupidity that I am unable to grasp your meaning. This is not mine, nor have I seen it before.”
“Haven’t you? That remains50 to be seen. Unless I am out of my calculations, I shall not be surprised to learn that that knife killed Jonas Hartopp. Oddly enough, I found it just as you were coming into the room—inside the wainscotting, in a little slit51 in the wall which was not half badly concealed52, and which was hidden by your bed. I rather reckon that that small bit of evidence will just round my case up nicely.”
“If it is true that you found it where you say you did, I can only assert that I do not know who put it there. I certainly did not.”
“No? That is a point which must be left open for further consideration. Now I am afraid that I shall have to trouble you to walk downstairs. You perfectly53 understand, Mr. Southam, that you are my prisoner.”
The bedroom door, in the hurry of my entrance, had been left wide open. Turning, I perceived that Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor was staring in at us.
“Your prisoner!” She echoed the fellow’s words. “Mr. Southam is your prisoner? Who, then, are you?” She put her hand to her breast as if to control her agitation54.
“I am a detective.”
“And you have arrested Mr. Southam—for what?”
“For the murder of Jonas Hartopp.”
She clasped her hands together in a kind of ecstasy55. “I am so glad! so glad! I congratulate you, sir, on having brought the crime home to the real criminal at last.” She addressed me with an air of triumph which was wholly unconcealed. “Did I not tell you that your course was nearly run? It was nearer its close even than I thought.”
“I am obliged to you for your prognostication, madam, but I may assure you that though I am not the first person who has been wrongfully accused of a crime of which he was completely innocent, I do venture to indulge in a hope that this is the first occasion on which a woman has permitted herself to gloat over the misfortunes of a man who, without having wronged a living creature, is himself friendless, helpless, and injured.”
So far from my words succeeding in reaching the sympathetic side of her—if she had one—she glared at me, if it were possible, more malignantly56 than before.
“You hypocrite!” she hissed57.
My captor placed his hand upon my shoulder. “Come,” he said, in a tone which was unmistakably official. “It is no use staying here to bandy words. Downstairs, Mr. Southam, if you please, and mind, no tricks upon the way.”
I told him that he need not apprehend58 anything in the nature of what he called tricks from me. We went downstairs, Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor close at our heels.
“Step into the coffee-room, Mr. Southam, if you please. I am going to send for a cab. Mrs. Barnes!” That lady appeared. “I have effected this man’s capture, as I told you that I probably should do.”
So she had known all along who he was, and in concealing59 the fact, in a sense, had betrayed me. And this was the meaning of her futile60, eleventh-hour attempt at warning of the night before.
“Let me have a cab at once. And allow no one to enter this man’s bedroom until I have had an opportunity of examining all that it contains. I shall hold you responsible.”
I saw that Mrs. Barnes’s head was nodding like a Chinese mandarin’s, and that it was set in motion evidently by the agitated61 condition of her nerves. The detective perceived that it would be as well for him to repeat his instructions if he wished them to be acted on.
“Now then, Mrs. Barnes, pull yourself together! Let me have that cab.”
As Mrs. Barnes moved aside, with the possible intention of taking steps to execute the officer’s commands, I observed that some one was standing at her back. It was her husband. He stood just inside the hall door as if he had just come in, and was wondering what was taking place. He was as shabbily and as poorly dressed as he very well could have been. But there was something in his face and in his bearing which, for some reason which I will not stay to fathom62, brought good hope into my heart.
“It’s you? Thank God!” I cried. “They have arrested me for murder! I hope you have come to help me!”
At the sound of my voice they turned to see to whom it was I was speaking. When Mrs. Barnes saw her husband, without any sort of notice she broke into a fit of hysterics, laughing and screaming and kicking all at once so that the maid had to hold her tightly round the waist to prevent her making an untimely descent to the ground.
But there was one person on whom his sudden appearance seemed to have an even greater effect than it had on Mrs. Barnes, and that was Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor. When she realised who it was who had come so unexpectedly on the scene, she began to stare at him as if he exercised over her the fabulous63 fascination64 of the snake. She shrank from before his glance, crouching65 closer and closer to the wall. She seemed to actually diminish in size. “You!—you!” she gasped. “No!—no!—not you!”
She put up her hands as if to ward1 him off her. As he made a forward movement, one could see that she shivered, as if in mortal terror.
“And you!” he said, with an intensity66 of meaning in his voice of which I had not thought it capable. “And you!” He turned to me, pointing an accusatory finger at the woman in whose bearing so strange a metamorphosis had taken place. “If you had told me last night that she was here, I would have solved the mystery for you there and then. Her presence here makes the thing as clear as daylight. It was she who killed Duncan Rothwell. Acknowledge it, you woman with the blood-red hand!”
He addressed her with a gesture of terrible denunciation. His stature67 seemed to have magnified, even as the woman seemed to have decreased. His face and eyes were blazing. I understood then how it came about that he had mesmerised poor, weak-minded, nerveless Mrs. Barnes.
“No!” wailed68 Mrs. Lascelles–Trevor. “No! I never touched him!”
“You dare to deny it!” In the man’s voice there seemed to be a wonderful resonance69, in his bearing a singular air of command. He took from his pocket a box, and from wrappings in the box the ghastly relics70 which still haunted Mrs. Barnes in dreams. “Here are the four fingers and the thumb, and the palm of your right hand, woman, with which you would have made an end of me. Clearly, therefore, it was with your left hand that you murdered Duncan Rothwell. Deny it if you dare!”
As he spoke71 he threw at her the dreadful fragments. They struck her full in the face.
“I did it! I own it! Don’t touch me—not that!” she screamed.
She fell to the ground—as with amazement72 and, so far as I was concerned, with horror, we stared at her—in what proved to be an epileptic fit.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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18
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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19
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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20
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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rebut
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| v.辩驳，驳回 | |
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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24
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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28
tyro
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| n.初学者；生手 | |
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ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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premature
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| adj.比预期时间早的；不成熟的，仓促的 | |
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cleaver
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| n.切肉刀 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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33
imputed
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| v.把（错误等）归咎于( impute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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34
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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35
gratuitous
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| adj.无偿的，免费的；无缘无故的，不必要的 | |
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36
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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39
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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40
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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41
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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42
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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43
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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44
numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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46
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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47
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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48
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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49
rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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50
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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51
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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52
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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53
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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54
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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56
malignantly
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| 怀恶意地； 恶毒地； 有害地； 恶性地 | |
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57
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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58
apprehend
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| vt.理解，领悟，逮捕，拘捕，忧虑 | |
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59
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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60
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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63
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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64
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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65
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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66
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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68
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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70
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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71
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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72
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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