Donaldson received no response to his ring. He tried the latch1 and found the door locked. On a run he skirted the house to the rear. The back door was open. He pushed through into the cold kitchen, through this into the dining room, and so into the hall. There was no sign either of the servant or of the girl herself. He was now thoroughly2 alarmed.
As he ran up the stairs he was confronted by what he took to be an old witch in a purple wrapper. She barred his way in a decidedly militant3 manner, her sunken black eyes flashing anger. She seemed about to spring at him.
"Bien," she croaked4, "qui diable are you?"
He paused.
"You are Marie?" he demanded.
"Bien, and you?"
A voice came from a room leading from the hall. "Marie, who is it? Is it Ben?"
"I know not who it is," Marie shouted back; "but if he comes up another step I will tear out his eyes."
"Miss Arsdale," called Donaldson, "is anything the trouble? It is I—Donaldson."
"You!"
Her voice, which had at first sounded weary, as the voice of one who has waited a long while, gathered strength.
"It is all right, Marie," she called. "This—this is my friend."
Marie relaxed and gripped the banister for support. She was weak.
"I have never seen him before," she challenged.
There was a movement at the door.
"No, you have never seen him. Come here a moment, Marie."
With difficulty the old woman hobbled back into the room to her mistress, and for a few moments Donaldson waited impatiently for the next development. It came when he heard her voice asking him to come in. He was in the room in three strides. She was sitting in her chair with her head bandaged, Marie sitting by her side as though liking5 but little his intrusion. At sight of the white strip across her forehead, he caught his breath.
"What does this mean?" he demanded with quick assumption of authority.
"You must n't think it is anything serious," she hastened to explain, awed6 by the fierceness of his manner. "It is only that—that he came back."
"Arsdale?"
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"He went away again. Marie and I tried to hold him, but we weren't strong enough."
"It would be easier to hold the devil," interpolated Marie.
"But you," asked the girl,—"I was afraid you had met with an accident."
"I?" he cried. "I was asleep—asleep like a drunken lout7."
"All yesterday—all last night?" she asked in astonishment8.
"Yes," he admitted, as though it were an accusation9.
"Ah, that is good," she replied. "You needed the rest."
"Needed rest, and you in this danger?" he exclaimed contemptuously. "It was unpardonable of me."
"No! No! Don't say that. You could have done nothing had you been here."
"If ever I get my hands on him again," he cried below his breath.
"Mon Dieu," broke in Marie. "If I, too—"
"Hush," interrupted the girl. "It is quite useless for any of us to attempt more until his money gives out. He came back and found a few dollars in my purse."
She had fought this madman, she and this rheumatic old woman, while he had slept! She had called to him and he had not answered! The blood went hot to his cheeks. It was enough to make a man feel craven.
The wounded girl rested her bandaged head on the back of the chair. At the light in Donaldson's eyes, Marie straightened herself aggressively.
"Are you badly hurt?" he asked quietly.
"Only a bump," she laughed, remembering how he had stood by the ladder. "Marie insisted upon this," she added, lightly touching10 the cloth about her forehead.
"A bump?" snorted Marie. "It is a miracle that she was not altogether killed. She—"
But a hand upon the old servant's arm checked her indignation.
"You two women cannot remain here any longer alone," he said authoritatively11. "Either you must allow me to take you to the shelter of some friend or—"
"There is no one," she interrupted quickly. "No one to whom I would go in this condition. They would not understand."
"Then," he said, "I must secure a nurse for you."
"Am I not able to care for the p'tite?" demanded Marie. "A nurse!"
"A nurse is needed to care for you both. I am going downstairs now to summon one."
She protested feebly, and Marie vigorously, but he was insistent12.
"I ought to call your family physician—"
"No, Mr. Donaldson, you must not do that."
She was firm upon this point, so he went below to do what else he might.
At the telephone he found the explanation of his inability to get the house in the fact that the receiver was hanging loose. It was another accusation. Doubtless in her weakened condition she had dropped it from her hand and turned away, too dazed to replace it. The hot shame of it dried his tongue so that he could scarcely make himself understood. In spite of this he accomplished13 many things in a very few minutes. The operator gave him the number of a near-by reliable nurse, and finding her in, he sent off the cab for her. Then through an employment bureau he secured a cook who agreed to reach the house within an hour. He then telephoned the nearest market and ordered everything he could think of from beefsteak to fruit, and to this added everything the marketman could think of. He had no sooner finished than the nurse arrived.
By the greatest good luck Miss Colson proved to be young, cheerful, and capable. She followed Donaldson upstairs and succeeded in winning the confidence of both the girl and Marie at once. Donaldson left them together. A little while later he was allowed to come up again.
"I feel like an unfaithful knight," he said, as he entered. "I deserve to be dismissed without a word."
"Because you slept? It was not your fault. I fear I have left you little time for rest."
"Why did n't you tell them to break down the doors—to get me!"
Her face clouded for a moment.
She saw how chagrined14 he still felt.
"Don't blame yourself," she pleaded. "It's all over anyway and you 've done everything possible. You 've been very thoughtful."
"I was a fool to leave you here. I should have stayed."
"That was impossible."
Donaldson marveled that she could pass off the whole episode so generously. He refrained from questioning her further as to what had happened. It was unnecessary, for he knew well enough.
"Let us choose a pleasanter subject," she said. "Tell me how you became a great hero."
"A sorry hero," he answered, not understanding what she meant.
"No. No. It was fine! It was fine!"
He was bewildered.
"You don't mean to say you have n't seen the papers—but then, of course, you have n't, if you were asleep all day Sunday. Please bring me that pile in the corner."
He handed them to her and she unfolded the first page of the uppermost paper. He found himself confronting a picture of himself as he had stood, the centre of an admiring crowd, in front of the big machine which had so nearly killed Bobby.
He shared the first page with the latest guesses concerning the Riverside robberies.
"Well," he stammered15, "I 'd forgotten all about that!"
"Forgotten such an act! You don't half realize what a hero you are. Listen to the headlines, 'Heroic Rescue,' 'Young Lawyer Gives Remarkable16 Exhibition of Nerve,' 'The Name of Lawyer Donaldson Mentioned for Carnegie Medal,' 'Bravest Deed of the Year,' 'Faced Death Unflinchingly.'"
And the pitiful feature of it was that he must sit and listen to this undeserved praise from her lips. That, knowing deep in his heart his own unworthiness, he must face her and see her respond to those things as though he really had been worthy18. He, who had done the act under oath, was receiving the reward of a man who would have done it with no false stimulus19. He, who had been unconsciously braced20 to it by the fact that he had so little to lose, was receiving the praise due only a man who risks all the happiness of a long life. He had faced death after flinching17 from life. He was sick of his hypocrisy21; he would be frank with himself. He would be frank with her; he had a right to it this once. He pressed down the paper she was reading.
"Don't repeat it," he commanded. "It is n't true! It's all wrong!"
"What do you mean?"
"That it's all a lie!"
"But here 's your picture. And that 's you."
"Oh, the naked facts are true. But the rest about,—" it was hard to do this with her eyes upon him, "the rest about being a hero—about nerve and bravery. It's rot! It is n't so!"
She threw back her head, resting it upon the top of her chair, and laughed gently. The color had come back into her cheeks and even the dark below her eyes seemed to fade.
"Of course," she returned, "you would n't be a truly hero if you knew you were one."
"But I know I 'm not."
"Of course and so you are!"
The impulse was strong within him to pour out to her the whole bitter story. Better to stand shorn and true before her than garbed22 in such false colors as these. But as before, he realized that her own welfare forbade even this relief.
The nurse approached with a cheery smile, but with an unmistakable air of authority.
"You will pardon me," she interrupted, "but we must keep Miss Arsdale as quiet as possible. I think she ought to try to sleep a little now."
Sorry as he was to go, Donaldson was relieved to know that he was leaving her in such good hands.
The ringing of the front door-bell startled her. She shrank back in her chair. The nurse was at her side instantly.
"You had better leave at once," she whispered to Donaldson.
"It's only the new cook," he answered.
He went downstairs and ushered23 her in, and led her to the kitchen.
"The place is yours," he said, waving his hands about the room, "and all you 've got to do is to cook quickly and properly whatever order is sent down to you. Get that?"
The woman nodded, but glanced suspiciously about the deserted24 quarters. The place looked as when first opened in the Fall, after the return from the summer vacation.
"The family," Donaldson went on to explain, "consists of three. If you succeed in satisfying this group I 'll give you an extra ten at the end of the week."
"I 'll do it, sor."
She looked as though she was able.
"Anything more you want to know?"
"The rist of the help, sor,—"
"You 're all of it," he answered briefly25.
Before leaving the house he did one thing more to allay26 his fears. He called up a private detective bureau and ordered them to keep watch of the house night and day until further notice. They were to keep their eyes open for any slightly deranged27 person who might seek an entrance. In the event of capturing him, they were to take him into the house and put him to bed, remaining at his side until he, Donaldson, arrived.
Then he ordered his cab to the restaurant of Wun Chung.
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收听单词发音
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1
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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3
militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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4
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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5
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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6
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
lout
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| n.粗鄙的人；举止粗鲁的人 | |
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8
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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9
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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10
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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12
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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13
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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14
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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18
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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19
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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20
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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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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22
garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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allay
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| v.消除，减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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deranged
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| adj.疯狂的 | |
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