“The roouds is rough, and old Garge Crows takes his time,” said the landlord, eyeing Barrant with a heavy stare. “‘Tain’t as thow ‘e had a passel of passergers to be teeren rownd after.”
“Can you give me some supper while I’m waiting?”
“Sooper?” The innkeeper scratched his chin doubtfully. “‘Tis late in the ebenin’ to be getting sooper. There’s nawthing greut in the howse. You could ‘ave some tay—p’raps an egg.”
“That will do.”
The innkeeper roared forth7 a summons, which was answered by a rugged8 Cornish lass from the kitchen. She cast a doubtful glance on the young man when she learnt what was required, and took him into a small sitting-room9, where she left him to gaze at his leisure upon a framed portrait of Cecil Rhodes, a stuffed gannet in a large glass case, and a stuffed badger10 in a companion case on the other side of the wall. In about twenty minutes she returned with a tray, and placed before the detective a couple of eggs, some bread and butter, saffron cake, and a pot of tea. The eggs were of peculiar11 mottled exterior12, and when tasted had such a strong fish-like flavour as to suggest that they might have been laid by the gannet in its lifetime, and stowed away by a careful Cornish housewife until some stranger chanced to visit that remote spot. Barrant was hungry enough to gulp13 them down, though with a wry14 face. He had just finished a second cup of very strong tea when he heard the clatter15 of a vehicle outside, and the girl thrust a tousled dark head through the door to announce the arrival of Mr. Crows and his wagonette.
Barrant paid for his food and went out. An ancient hooded16 vehicle filled the narrow way, drawn17 by a large shaggy horse which turned a gleaming eye on the detective as he emerged, and snorted loudly, as though resenting the prospect18 of having to drag his additional weight back to the town. The driver sat motionless on the box, watching the caperings of the tipsy tin-miners through the half-open door: a melancholy19 death’shead of a man, with a preternaturally long white face, and a figure shrouded20 in a dark cloak, looking as though he might be Death itself, waiting for the carousers to drop dead of apoplexy before carrying them off in his funereal21 equipage. In reply to Barrant’s question he informed him that the vehicle was destined22 for Penzance, and immediately the detective entered the dark interior he drove off with disconcerting suddenness, as though he had been waiting for him only, and was determined23 to make sure of him before he had time to escape.
The shaggy horse lumbered24 forward at an unwilling25 trot26, like an animal disillusioned27 with life. Soon they cleared the churchtown and entered the darkness of the moors28. A long and tiring day disposed Barrant to slumber30. He had begun to nod sleepily when the wagonette stopped with a jerk which shook him into wakefulness. He was able to make out that they had reached the highest elevation31 of the moors—the cross-roads from where Inspector32 Dawfield had shown him Flint House in the distance that afternoon. He could just discern the outlines of the wayside cross and the old Druidical monolith, both pointing to the silent heavens in unwonted religious amity33.
“Good ebenen’, Garge.” A lusty voice hailed out of the darkness, and then Barrant was aware of somebody entering the wagonette, a large male body which plumped heavily on his knees as it started again.
“Bed pardin, I’m sure. Aw dedn’t knaw Crows had another passenger to-night.” A husky voice spoke34 unseen. “‘Taint often it ‘appens.” There was the splutter of a match, and as it flared35 up Barrant saw a pair of twinkling grey eyes regarding him from a brown and rugged face. “Old Garge never reckons on haavin’ passengers back by th’ laast wagonette, so ‘e never lights up inside. I’ll make a light now, then we’ll be more comfortable.” He struck another match and lit the candle in the wagonette lamp, and was revealed to Barrant’s eyes as a stout and pleasant-faced man of fifty or so, with something seamanlike36, or at least boatmanlike, in his appearance. He gave the detective a smile and a nod, and added, “Old Crows is fullish mean about candles.”
“It’s a wonder he drives the wagonette at all, if there is no demand for it,” remarked Barrant.
“Aw, there’s a’plenty demand for it—always lots of passergers except by this one,” rejoined the man in the blue suit. “You’d be surprised how people gets about in these paarts.” He was studying the detective’s face with interest. “You be a Londoner,” he said quickly. “What braught you down here?”
“How do you know that I’m a Londoner?” said Barrant, parrying the latter part of the question.
“I can tell a Londoner at once,” returned the other.
“‘Twould be straange if I couldn’t. I’m Peter Portgartha. P’raps you haven’t heard of me, but I’m well known hereabouts, and if you want to see any of the sights, you’d best coome to me, and I’ll show you round.”
“A guide, eh?”
“There be guides and guides. I’ll say nathin’ about th’ others, but there’s nobody knaws this part of Cornwall like me. I was born and bred and knaw every inch of it. Before the waar I’ve had London ladies say to me: ”Ave you ever seen the Bay of Naples, or the Canaries? Oh, you should see them, Mr. Portgartha, they’re ever so much more grand than Cornwall.’ Well, while the war was on I did see the Canaries and Bay of Naples at Government’s expense on a minesweeper, and they’re not a patch on the Cornwall coast. There’s nathin’ to beat it in the world.”
“It’s good, is it?” said Barrant, with his accustomed affability to strangers. “If I want to see any of it I’ll get you to show me round.”
“Just came along to th’ Mousehole and ask for Peter Portgartha. There’s a great cave at the Mouse’s Hole—that’s what we call it hereabouts, that ain’t to be beaten in the whole world. If your good lady’s here, bring her with you to see it. There ain’t nobody else can show it to her like I can. The London ladies don’t like goin’ down the Mousehole cave as a rule, because it’s a stiffish bit of a climb, and in the holiday season there’s always a lot of raffish37 young fellows hangin’ round to see the ladies go down—to see what they can see, you knaw. But I never ‘ave no accidents like that. No bold-eyed young chap ever saw the leg of any lady in my charge—not so much as the top of a boot, because I knaw how to taake them down. I’m well known to some of the ‘ighest ladies in the land because I ‘ev been aable to take care of their legs when they were goin’ down. I’ve had letters from them thaankin’ me. You’ve no idea how grateful they be.”
This startling instance of the stern morality of aristocratic womanhood was unfortunately wasted on Barrant, whose thoughts had reverted38 to the principal preoccupation of his mind. Mr. Portgartha rambled39 on.
“Aw, but it’s strange to be meetin’ you like this, in old Garge’s wagonette. For twelve months I’ve been goin’ acrass the moors to see a sister of mine, who’s lonely, poor saul, havin’ lost her man in the war—drawned in a drifter ‘e was—and catchin’ this wagonette back every night, with never a saul to speak to, until last night. Last night there was a passerger, and to-night there’s you. Tes strange, come to think of it.” He looked hard at Barrant as if for some confirmatory expression of surprise at this remarkable41 accession to the wagonette’s fares. He waited so long that Barrant felt called upon to say something.
“Who was your fellow passenger last night?”
“Now you’re asking me a question which takes a bit of answerin’,” replied Mr. Portgartha. “‘Twas like this. I was waitin’ at the crass40-roads for old Garge to come along, when a young womon came up out of th’ darkness and stood not far from me—just by the ol’ crass. I tried to maake out who she was, but it was too daark. So I just says to her, ‘Good ebenin’, miss, are you waitin’ for the wagonette too?’ She never answered a word, and before I could think of anything else to say old Garge came along, and we both got in. She sat in a corner, silent as a ghooste. Well, then, I went to light th’ lamp, same as I have to-night, but as luck would ‘ave it, I hadn’t a match. I knaw it was no use askin’ old Garge, ‘cos he’d pretend not to hear, so I turned to the young womon sittin’ opposite, and asked her if she had a match in her pocket. And do you knaw, I declare to gudeness she never said nawthen, not so much as a word!”
“Perhaps she was dumb?” Barrant suggested.
“Aw, iss, doomb enough then,” retorted Mr. Portgartha. “I tried her two or three times more, but couldn’t get a word out of her. Well, at last I began to get narvous, thinkin’ she might be a sperit. So I leant across to her an’ says, ‘Caan’t you say a word, miss? It’s only Peter Portgartha speaking, he’s well known for his respect for your sect42. No young womon need be frightened of speakin’ to Peter Portgartha.’ And with that she spaaks at last, with a quick little gasp43 like a sob—I’m thinking I can hear it at this minute—‘Aw,’ she says, ‘why caan’t you leave me alone?’ ‘Never be afraaid,’ I says, for I have my pride like other folk, ‘I’ll say no more. Peter Portgartha has no need to foorce his conversation where it ain’t welcome.’”
“A strange girl!” said Barrant, beginning to feel an interest in the story. “Have you no idea who she was?”
“Wait a bit,” continued Mr. Portgartha, evidently objecting to any intrusion on his right, as narrator, to a delayed climax44. “Well, there we sat, like two ghoostes, till we got to Penzance, but all the time I was thinkin’ to mysel’ that I’d find out who she was. I sed to myself I’d ride on to the station, instid of gettin’ out a piece this side of it so as to make a short cut across to the Mouse’s Hole, as I usually do. But that stupid old fule Garge pulled up as usual and bawls45 through the window, ‘Are you going to keep me here all night, Peter?’ Before I could say a word the young womon says: ‘I’ll get out here.’ With that she puts the fare into his hand through the open window, and slips out afore I knew what she was going to do. If it hadn’t been for my rhoomatics, which I got in the war, I’d ‘a followed her. As it was, I couldn’t.”
“So you didn’t see her face, after all?” asked Barrant quickly.
“I didn’t, in a manner of speakin’. But I did get a glimpse of her as she passed near the lamp-post—just a half-sight of two big dark eyes in a white face as she went past. I wouldn’t ‘a thought no more of it,” added Mr. Portgartha, laying an impressive hand on his companion’s knee, “but for what happened at Flint House last night.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” In his quickened interest Barrant vainly strove to make his voice appear calm.
“Because the young womon must have coome from Flint House.”
Barrant scrutinized46 his companion sharply in the dim light. “Why do you think so?” he asked.
“For’n thing, the wayside crass where she picked up the wagonette is not far from Flint House by acrass the moors—closer’n goin’ from the house on the cliffs t’ the churchtown, which is a good slant47 to the north of it. From Flint House to the crass-roads it’s straight as a dart48, if you know yer way, with only one house twixt it till you come arver to it—old Farmer Bardsley, who ain’t got no wemmenfolk, so it’s sartin she didn’t come from theer. She wasn’t a maa’iden from any of the farms of the moors, for I know them all. But it weren’t till this marning that I got a kind of notion who she was. I dropped into the Tolpen Arms to have a drop of something for a cawld I’ve got, and some of the fishermen were talkin’ about th’ old gentleman of Flint House blowing his head off last night with a gun. It made me feel queery-like when I heerd aboot it. ‘Why,’ I says, ’that’ll be about the time I saw the strange young womon in ol’ Crows’ wagonette. She must ‘ave come from Flint House, now I coome to think of it.’ ‘What young woman was that?’ asked ‘Enery Waitts. So I told them what had happened to me, just like I’ve told it to you. Mrs. Keegan, the land-lady, who was list’ning, says, ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if it was Mr. Turold’s daughter that you saw. I heard yesterday that his sister was staying at Penzance, so p’raps she was going to her, after it happened. So if it was her it’s not surprisin’ she didn’t want to speak to you in her grief.’”
“Did you ever see Miss Turold?”
“I’ve never see any one of the Flint House folk, though I’ve heerd of them, often enough.”
“Did you notice in which direction this girl went?”
“No. She passed the lamp-post as if she were maakin’ up Market Jew Street, but I suppose she ced ‘ave turned off anywhere to the right or left.”
“What time was it when the wagonette reached the cross-roads on the moor29, where she got in?”
“About the same time as to-night, getting on for ten, mebbe.”
“She was quite alone?”
“As lonely as any she ghooste, standin’ theer by the old crass. ‘Twaas because I thought she’d feel feersome that I spoke to her.”
Barrant relapsed into a thoughtful silence which lasted until the wagonette pulled up and his fellow-traveller prepared to alight. Then he turned to him and said—
“Good-night. I may see you again.”
He fumbled49 at the interior window as he spoke, opened it, and touched the driver on the shoulder. “Drive me to the Central Hotel,” he said. “Go as fast as you can, and I’ll give you ten shillings!”
Mr. Crows nodded a cold acquiescence50, and they rattled51 off down the silent street, leaving on Barrant’s mind a receding52 impression of a startled red face staring after them from the footpath53. The wagonette jolted54 round a corner, and ten minutes later stopped at the entrance of the hotel where Mrs. Pendleton was staying.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
shuffling
|
|
| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
granite
|
|
| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
pint
|
|
| n.品脱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
rugged
|
|
| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
badger
|
|
| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
peculiar
|
|
| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
exterior
|
|
| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
gulp
|
|
| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
wry
|
|
| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hooded
|
|
| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
prospect
|
|
| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
shrouded
|
|
| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
funereal
|
|
| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
lumbered
|
|
| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
unwilling
|
|
| adj.不情愿的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
trot
|
|
| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
disillusioned
|
|
| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
moors
|
|
| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
moor
|
|
| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
elevation
|
|
| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
inspector
|
|
| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
amity
|
|
| n.友好关系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
Flared
|
|
| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
seamanlike
|
|
| 海员般的，熟练水手似的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
37
raffish
|
|
| adj.名誉不好的，无赖的，卑鄙的，艳俗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
reverted
|
|
| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
rambled
|
|
| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
crass
|
|
| adj.愚钝的，粗糙的；彻底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
sect
|
|
| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
bawls
|
|
| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的第三人称单数 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
scrutinized
|
|
| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
slant
|
|
| v.倾斜，倾向性地编写或报道；n.斜面，倾向 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
dart
|
|
| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
fumbled
|
|
| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
acquiescence
|
|
| n.默许；顺从 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
receding
|
|
| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
footpath
|
|
| n.小路，人行道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
jolted
|
|
| （使）摇动， （使）震惊( jolt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |