At that moment, however, there was nothing superior in his bearing. It was so unwontedly subdued10, so insistently11 meek12, that it was to be understood that his mission was both conciliatory and propitiatory13. That, at least, was the impression Mrs. Pendleton gathered as her brother informed her that he had been waiting nearly an hour to see her.
She reflected that he must have arrived shortly after she left the hotel to go to the police station, and she wondered what had induced her brother to rise at an hour so uncommonly14 early for him, in order to pay her a morning visit.
“I was up betimes,” said Austin, as though reading her thought. “Sleep, of course, was impossible. Poor Robert!”
Mrs. Pendleton waited impatiently for him to disclose the real reason of an appearance which had more behind it, she felt sure, than to express condolences about their common bereavement15. Of Robert she had always stood a little in awe16, but she understood her younger brother better. As a boy she had seen through him and his pretensions17, and he did not seem to her much changed since those days.
“I have been upset by our difference last night, Constance,” he pursued. “It seems deplorable for us to have quarrelled—yes, actually quarrelled—over our poor brother’s death.”
His sister’s face hardened instantly. “That wasn’t my fault,” she said distantly.
“You’ll excuse me for saying that I think it was. You took an altogether wrong view of his—his death; a view which I hope you’ve seen fit to change after a night’s reflection.”
“You mean about Robert committing suicide?”
Austin inclined his head.
“I haven’t changed my opinion in the slightest degree,” she retorted. “I am still quite convinced that Robert did not commit suicide.”
Austin darted18 an angry glance at her, but controlled himself with a visible effort. “Have you reflected what that implies?” he asked in a low tone.
“What does it imply?”
“Murder.” He breathed the word with a hurried glance around him, as though apprehensive19 of being overheard, but the lounge was empty, and they were quite alone.
“I am aware of that.”
“Then is it still your intention to go to the police with this terrible suspicion?” he asked, in a voice that trembled with agitation20.
It was on the tip of Mrs. Pendleton’s tongue to reply that she had already been to the police, but she decided21 to withhold22 that piece of information until she had heard all that her brother had to say.
“Certainly,” she replied.
“Then you must be mad,” was his indignant rejoinder. “Have you considered the scandal this will entail23 upon us all?”
“Not half such a scandal as that Robert should be murdered and his family permit the crime to go unpunished.”
“I do not think that you have given this matter sufficient consideration. It is for that reason I have come to see you this morning—before you take action which you may have reason to regret later on. I want you to think it over carefully, apart from a mere24 feminine prejudice against the possibility of a member of the family destroying himself. If you will listen to me I think that I shall be able to convince you that Robert, deplorable though it may seem, did actually commit suicide.”
“What’s the use of going through all this again?” said Mrs. Pendleton wearily. “Robert would not commit suicide.”
“Suicide is always difficult to explain. Nobody can say what impels25 a man to it.”
“Robert had no reason to put an end to his life. He had everything to live for—everything in front of him.”
“You cannot say that a man bordering on sixty has everything in front of him. I know it’s considered middle-aged26 in this misguided country, where people will never face the facts of life, but in simple truth Robert had finished with life to all intents and purposes.”
“You won’t say that when you come to sixty yourself, Austin. Robert was a great strong man, with years of activity before him. Besides, people don’t kill themselves because they are growing old.”
“I never suggested it. I was merely pointing out that Robert hadn’t everything in front of him, to use your own phrase.”
“In any case he would not have killed himself,” replied Mrs. Pendleton sharply. “Such a disgrace! He was the proudest of men, he would never have done it.”
“You always hark back to that.” There was faint irritation27 in Austin’s tone.
“I really cannot get away from it, Austin. Can you conceive of any reason?”
“There was a reason in Robert’s case. I did not mention it to you last night in the presence of the police sergeant28, but I told Dr. Ravenshaw, and he is inclined to agree with me. Since then I have thought it over carefully, and I am convinced that I am right.”
“What is the reason?”
“You recall the disclosure Robert made to us yesterday afternoon?”
“About his marriage and Sisily?”
“Yes. It must have been very painful to Robert, more painful than we imagine. It would come home to him later with stunning29 force—all that it implied, I mean. At the time Robert did not foresee all the consequences likely to ensue from it. It was likely to affect his claim for the title, because he was bound to make it known. When he came to think it over he must have realized that it would greatly prejudice his claim. A body like the House of Lords would do their utmost to avoid bestowing30 an ancient name on a man, who, by his own showing, lived with a married woman for twenty-five years, and had an illegitimate daughter by her. These are painful things to speak of, but they were bound to come out. My own feeling is that Robert had a bitter awakening31 to these facts when it was too late—when he had made the disclosure. And he may have felt remorse—”
“Remorse for what?”
“Remorse for giving the secret away and branding his daughter as illegitimate on the day that her mother was buried. It has an ugly look, Constance, there’s no getting away from that.”
He lapsed32 into silence, and awaited the effect of his words. Mrs. Pendleton pondered over them for some moments in manifest perturbation. There was sufficient resemblance between Austin’s conclusions and the thoughts which had impelled33 her nocturnal visit to Flint House, to sway her mind like a pendulum34 towards Austin’s view. But that only lasted for a moment. Then she thrust the thought desperately35 from her.
“No, no; I cannot—I will not believe it!” she cried in an agitated36 voice. “All this must have been in Robert’s mind beforehand. His letters to me about Sisily indicated that there were reasons why he wished me to take charge of her. Robert had weighed the consequences of this disclosure, Austin—I feel sure of that. He was a man who knew his own mind. How carefully he outlined his plans to us yesterday! He was to appear before the Investigations37 Committee next week to give evidence in support of his claim to the title. And he told me that he was purchasing a portion of the family estate at Great Missenden, and intended to live there. Is it logical to suppose that he would terminate all these plans and ambitions by destroying himself? I, for one, will never believe it. I have my own thoughts and suspicions—”
He turned a sudden searching glance on her. “Suspicions of whom?”
“I took a dislike to that terrible man-servant of Robert’s from the moment I saw him,” said Mrs. Pendleton, setting her chin firmly.
This feminine flight was too swift for Austin Turold to follow.
“What has that to do with what we are talking about?” he demanded.
“When we reached the door last night it was Thalassa who let us in, with his hat and coat on, ready to go out. There was something strange and furtive38 about his manner, too, for I never took my eyes off him, and I’m sure he had something on his mind. I’m quite convinced it was he who was listening at the door yesterday afternoon. And he’s got a wicked and crafty39 face.”
“Good God!” ejaculated Austin Turold, as the full force of his sister’s impressions reached his mind. “Do you mean to say that because you took a dislike to this unfortunate man’s face, you think he has murdered Robert? And yet there are some feminists40 who want to draw our judges from your sex! My dear Constance, you cannot make haphazard41 accusations42 of murder in this reckless fashion.”
“I am not accusing Thalassa of murder,” said Mrs. Pendleton, with a fine air of generosity43. “And there’s more than my dislike of his face in it, too. He was looking through the door in the afternoon—”
“You only think that,” interrupted her brother.
“I feel sure it was he. It was also strange to see him with his hat and coat on when he answered our knock. He told Dr. Ravenshaw that he was going to the churchtown for him.”
“That reminds me that I haven’t yet heard what took you up to Flint House last night, Constance,” said her brother, looking at her fixedly44. “What were you doing there at that late hour, and why was Ravenshaw with you?”
Mrs. Pendleton told him, and he listened coldly. “I think you might have consulted me first before Dr. Ravenshaw,” he observed.
“I didn’t because I thought you would have put obstacles in my way,” she replied with frankness.
“I most certainly should. Of course the whole position may be altered now, with Robert’s death. Have you told Sisily?”
“Yes. She took it almost passively. She is the strangest girl, but after last night I look upon her as a sacred charge—Robert’s last wish.”
“It will be best for you to take charge of her, I think,” said Austin absently. “I expect she is provided for in Robert’s will. I found that in the old clock case last night, and I’ve handed it to the local lawyer who drew it up. But this is beside the point, Constance. I have come over here this morning to beg of you to let this terrible business rest where it is. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that our unhappy brother has ended his own life—all the facts point to it only too clearly—and I particularly desire, for all our sakes, that you do nothing to put your ill-informed suspicions into action. Let the thing drop.”
“It is too late,” said Mrs. Pendleton decidedly. “I have already been to the police. There is a detective from Scotland Yard on his way over from Bodmin.”
“You might have told me this before and saved my time,” said Austin, rising with cold anger. “In my opinion you have acted most ill-advisedly. However, it’s too late to talk of that. No, there is no need to rise. I can find my way out.”
Austin Turold left the hotel, and made his way up the crooked45 street to the centre of the town. His way lay towards Market Jew Street, where he intended to hire one of the waiting cabs to drive him back to St. Fair. As he neared the top of the street which led to the square, his eye was caught by the flutter of a woman’s dress in one of the narrow old passages which spindled crookedly46 off it. The wearer of the dress was his niece Sisily. She was walking swiftly. A turn of the passage took her in the direction of the Morrab Gardens, and he saw her no more.
Her appearance in that secluded47 spot was unexpected, but at the moment Austin Turold did not give it more than a passing thought. He hurried across Market Jew Street and engaged a cabman to drive him home.
The ancient vehicle jolted48 over the moor49 road in crawling ascent50, and in due time reached the spot where the straggling churchtown squatted51 among boulders52 in the desolation of the moors53, wanting but cave men to start up from behind the great stones to complete the likeness54 to a village of the stone age. The cab drifted along between the granite55 houses of a wide street, like a ship which had lost its bearings, but cast anchor before one where a few stunted56 garden growths bloomed in an ineffectual effort to lessen57 the general aspect of appalling58 stoniness59. Austin Turold paid the cabman and walked into this house. He opened the door with his latchkey, and ascended60 rapidly to the first floor.
Lunch was set for two in the room which he entered, and Charles Turold was seated at the table, turning over the pages of a book. He glanced up expectantly, and his lips formed one word—
“Well?”
“It is not well,” was the testy61 response. “My charming sister has called in the assistance of Scotland Yard. You’ll have to stay. We’ve got to face this thing out.”
His son received this piece of news with a pale face. “You should have foreseen this last night,” he said.
“I saw Sisily in Penzance—near the gardens.”
“Where was she going?” asked Charles, flushing slightly.
“I really cannot say. You should be better acquainted with her movements than I,” was the ironical62 response. “You do not suppose I have been altogether blind to your infatuation, do you? If you choose to go walking and flirting63 with a girl on Cornish moors you must expect to be observed. As a matter of fact I thought it rather a good move on your part, until I learnt the secret of Sisily’s birth.”
“I tell you I won’t stand this,” exclaimed Charles, springing up from the table.
“Won’t?” said his father. “You carry things with a high hand—Jonathan.” His look dwelt coldly on his son. “Do not be a fool. Sit down and let us have lunch, and we’ll discuss afterwards what’s best to be done.”
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1
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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bereavement
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| n.亲人丧亡，丧失亲人，丧亲之痛 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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withhold
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| v.拒绝，不给；使停止，阻挡 | |
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entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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impels
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pendulum
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| n.摆，钟摆 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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feminists
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| n.男女平等主义者，女权扩张论者( feminist的名词复数 ) | |
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41
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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45
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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crookedly
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| adv. 弯曲地，不诚实地 | |
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47
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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48
jolted
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| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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51
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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52
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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53
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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54
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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55
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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56
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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57
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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58
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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stoniness
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| 冷漠，一文不名 | |
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60
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
testy
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| adj.易怒的；暴躁的 | |
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62
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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