Mr. Brabazon was much obliged to her ladyship, and, if it was quite convenient, he would like a cup of coffee and a rusk.
In five minutes they were brought him.
After that he tumbled into bed, slept like a top for four hours, got up, tubbed and dressed, after which, in his own parlance2, he felt "as fresh as a daisy." He had ascertained3 overnight that his uncle never made his appearance downstairs before luncheon4, and very often not then. So, without saying a word to any one, or troubling himself about breakfast, he quietly left the house on his way to the "yard" in search of Mr. Hendry. The jobmaster expressed himself as being very sorry for his own sake that things had turned out as they had; "but, of course, I'm very glad for your sake, Mr. Brabazon, that you and Sir Everard have come together again."
"For anything I can tell to the contrary," said Burgo--"for one can never be sure what turn affairs will take--you may see me back at the yard, with nothing to do, before either of us is very much older."
"You will always be welcome, sir, and I'll engage to find you a job at any time, should you be in need of one."
With that the two men shook hands and parted.
Burgo got back to Great Mornington Street just as luncheon was served. His uncle was downstairs, and certainly looking no worse than on the previous day.
There, too, were her ladyship and Signora Dusanti, and the signora's little daughter, a child of ten. Conversation was general during the meal, personal topics being avoided as if by common consent. Even Sir Everard was quite chatty, and once or twice laughed heartily5 at some remark of Tina, who seemed a most precocious6 child for her years. Burgo found it had been already arranged that he and his uncle should go for a drive in the barouche, while Lady Clinton and the signora went shopping in the brougham.
At the last moment her ladyship said to her husband: "If you have no objection, dear, I should like Tina to go with you and Mr. Brabazon. I'm afraid the poor child would find shopping very tiresome7, and I am sure a good blow in the Park would do her far more good."
The corners of the baronet's mouth dropped for a moment; the next he said quite heartily: "Of course--of course. Let the child go with us, by all means."
A little later Burgo could not help asking himself whether Tina might not have been purposely sent with them in order to act as a check upon any confidential8 talk which might otherwise have passed between his uncle and himself in the course of the drive. At any rate, if that was her ladyship's intention, it proved thoroughly9 successful. The girl was such a shrewd little thing, and had so evidently been schooled into making good use of her ears, that both the men felt convinced that everything which might be said by them would be retailed10 to the signora, and would doubtless be passed on in due course to the person chiefly concerned. Consequently the talk was merely of such a kind as might have been overheard by the world at large. One remark which his uncle made gratified Burgo immensely. "Hoskins found a marked improvement in me this morning," he said; adding, with a laugh, "of course he gives all the credit of it to the particularly nauseous stuff I'm taking just now. But, and I would, I could tell him different from that."
Sir Everard shrank from the publicity11 of the Row. "I've only been once in it since my return," he said, "and on that occasion, if I was commiserated12 by one person on the score of my health, I was by twenty. It's an ordeal13 I don't care to face again. Let us take a quiet drive down Kensington way."
The rest of the day and evening passed as the preceding ones had done. After dinner came music and singing, and the baronet went so far as to indulge in one game of backgammon with his nephew. "It seems like old days come back," he remarked to Burgo, adding in a lower voice, "if only it will last! if only it will last!"
Soon after half-past nine he retired14.
Burgo's second vigil was arranged on precisely15 the same lines as the first. His uncle slept well, only waking twice at irregular intervals16, both times to find Burgo seated within a couple of yards of his bed, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes. In the course of this second night no conversation of what might be termed a private nature passed between them. More than once, when Sir Everard was sitting up in bed, Burgo saw him glance half-apprehensively, half-suspiciously at the door which opened into his wife's apartments, or rather, at the portière, which to-night was drawn17 completely across it. But whatever his thoughts or suspicions might be, he kept them to himself.
Next forenoon Dr. Hoskins's report was again a favourable18 one. "A few more days like this, my clear sir, and you will have made a big stride on the road to recovery," he said.
After luncheon her ladyship and the signora again went out together, ostensibly for shopping purposes, and again Sir Everard and Burgo, with little Tina for eavesdropper19, went for a long suburban20 drive.
The third night of Burgo's sitting up was merely a repetition of the two previous ones. It was diversified21 by no incident worth recording22, and again, as on the second night, the invalid23 confined such talk as passed between himself and his nephew to matters of little or no moment. It was evident to Burgo that he felt far from sure they were really alone, but he was doubtless unwilling24 to expose his wife to the ignominy of discovery, should it be a fact that she was playing the part of an unseen auditor25.
Burgo did not feel himself at liberty to try the door as on the first night, unless requested by his uncle to do so; but, although since then his eyes had glanced at it times innumerable, after that first occasion he had seen nothing to lead him to suppose that it was otherwise than closely shut; still, so long as it remained half hidden by the portière, a doubt would inevitably26 make itself felt.
All this time Lady Clinton's amiability27 and graciousness towards Burgo had been eclipsed by no faintest shadow of change. She treated him as if he were there of right as a member of the family. That first interview between them might have had no existence, save in Burgo's imagination, for any hint or allusion28 to it which escaped her lips. Did she wish him to forget it? Was it her desire that he should consider the breach29 between his uncle and himself not merely as healed, but as if it had never arisen? It certainly seemed so, and under ordinary circumstances, no other conclusion would have been logically possible. But in this case the circumstances were not ordinary ones. There was his uncle's mysterious illness to be taken into account, and, above all, certain things which his uncle had said to him--phrases, as it seemed to him, charged with a terrible meaning. These were facts which it was impossible to ignore, or to put lightly aside as of little import. Then, again, some still, small, inner voice seemed to warn him against Lady Clinton. He mistrusted her instinctively30, and in such cases he knew how useless it is to ask the why and the wherefore. Our likes and dislikes have their springs deeper than we can plumb31, and constitute a part of that mysterious Ego32 which each of us calls Myself--which is at once our slave and our master, and which, even at the end of the longest life, we have only partially33 learned to know.
There was one very pertinent34 question which Burgo did not fail to put to himself, namely, "What change is there in me, what have I done between the date of my first interview with her ladyship and now, to cause her so radically35 to reverse her tactics towards me? She was as undoubtedly36 hostile to me then as she undoubtedly wishes me to believe her my friend now. Why this extraordinary volte-face? There must be a motive37 at the bottom of it; what is that motive?" He could only shake his head, and murmur38, "Ma chère tante, what your little game is I don't in the least profess39 to know, but I believe you to be a snake in the grass, and a venomous one to boot, and I decline to trust you farther than I can see you."
He had time enough and to spare in which to turn these and sundry40 other matters over in his mind during his long hours of watching.
On this third morning he found his coffee and rusks waiting for him as usual on reaching his own room. The rusks he left untouched, but the coffee he drank off almost at a draught41. It was nearly broad daylight outside, but the curtains were closely drawn so as to exclude it, and a couple of candles were alight on the dressing-table. After swallowing his coffee he sat down to smoke "just one" cigarette before turning in. As he lay back in his chair watching the grey spirals of smoke curl slowly upward, his thoughts reverted42 to a subject which had engaged them more than once already. Not a word had escaped Sir Everard with reference to that first interview between his nephew and Lady Clinton, and yet it was absurd to suppose that the arrangement was not of his own making, although probably due to his wife's instigation, or that the result of it had not been made known to him in due course. The cheque had been of his own making out, and that it had been scornfully rejected and torn up by his nephew was a feature of the affair which there could be little doubt her ladyship would be only too pleased to paint for his behoof in the most exaggerated colours. And yet he had never so much as alluded44 to the affair. It could not be that he had forgotten it. For anything Burgo had seen to the contrary his memory was nearly as good as ever it had been. What, then, could be the reason of his silence? Was it possible that her ladyship had stated the case as against Burgo in far blacker terms than the facts warranted, and that as a consequence Sir Everard was waiting for his nephew to apologise? But Burgo, feeling that he had nothing to apologise for, and that, in point of fact, he was the person chiefly aggrieved45, had already made up his mind that if the subject were to be broached46 at all, his uncle must be the one to take the initiative. Perhaps, in the course of a day or two, Sir Everard might bring himself to speak of it. Well, in that case he, Burgo, would be quite prepared to--what was it he would be prepared to do? (The thread of his argument had unaccountably escaped him.) Why, to defend his own action in the--in the what? (How stupid of him!) Why, in the affair, of course. Yes, yes--that was it. He would be quite prepared to----
Where was he? What had come over him? His eyelids47 felt as if they were being pressed down by invisible fingers; every limb seemed weighted with lead; a deadly numbness48 had taken hold on all his faculties--never had he felt like it before. Was he going to be ill? Had some fever got a grip of him? Was he--was he----But at this point his brain refused to do his further bidding. He rose to his feet somehow and stood for a few moments with his hands pressed to his head, swaying about like a drunken man. Then, with his arms outstretched, as though to help him to balance himself, he staggered across the floor, and falling prone49 along the bed, remembered nothing more.
When he awoke to consciousness he knew neither where he was nor what had happened to him. The first thing he was aware of, and it probably helped to recall him fully43 to himself, was that he had a splitting headache. It was a dull continuous throbbing50, as though some piece of clockwork in his brain were marking off each second as it passed. He strained his eyes and he strained his ears, but the darkness and silence were intense--profound. He stretched out his arms and cast about with his fingers, and presently made out that he was lying fully dressed on his back on a bed--so much was certain. He must take that as a starting-point and work mentally backward. What was the last thing he could remember? It was a question not to be answered off-hand, more especially when a man's skull51 seemed to be opening and shutting twenty times a minute. When he tried to think he seemed to be groping in a fog as thick as wool. The last thing he---- Ah! now he had it. It was---- No, it had escaped him. He shut his eyes tight and pressed his burning head between his hands, which, strange to say, were cold and clammy. He lay thus immovable for some minutes, chasing through vacant caverns52 and tortuous53 passages a will-o'-the-wisp which still eluded54 him.
The last thing he could remember! He kept murmuring the words under his breath. And then suddenly it was revealed to him in a dazzling flash, and the same instant he sprang up in bed. Yes, every incident, down to the most trifling55, arranged itself in order before him. He saw himself, as though it were another he was looking at, leave his uncle's room and make his way yawningly, and with hands deep buried in his pockets, to his own room. The curtains were drawn, the candles alight, his coffee and rusks in readiness for him. The latter he did not touch; but he was thirsty, and he swallowed the coffee gratefully at one long draught. He called to mind that the bed had looked very inviting56, but that the temptation of a cigarette had proved too much for him. Then, a few minutes later, there had crept over him a strange leaden numbness and lethargy, both of mind and body, the like of which he had never experienced before. He had stood up, dazed and stupified, had staggered across the floor, and flung himself on the bed, and then had followed an absolute blank.
Yes, he saw it all now. His coffee had been drugged! No other explanation was possible. Of what devilish plot had he been made the victim? And what black purpose lurked57 at the bottom of it?
He stood up, feeling faint and giddy, and had to steady himself for a few moments by gripping the ironwork of the bedstead, before he durst venture to stir. Then he groped his way carefully and slowly, like a blind man, till he reached the window and drew aside the curtains. In the street outside the darkness was absolute; a thick fog pressed softly against the window, and wholly absorbed the light from the lamp over the way.
"It was seven o'clock in the morning when I quitted my uncle's room," muttered Burgo, "so that I must have slept through one day, and far into the next night." Then he took out his watch and put it to his ear. It had stopped for want of winding58 up. Evidently the thing most needed was a light. He called to mind that after lighting59 his cigarette, he had placed his silver matchbox on the table close by where he was sitting. He now groped his way from the window to the table in search of the box, but nowhere could he find it. Then he proceeded to search his pockets, but to no avail. Had the box been purposely removed in case he should wake up in the dark and want to strike a light? Nothing seemed more likely.
He now made his way to the door, only to find that he was locked in; but, judging from what had happened to him already, he had expected nothing less. He had been drugged, and was now a prisoner; all he could do was to wait with such patience as was possible to him for the break of day.
He felt chilled in every limb, only his head still throbbed60 and burned; but, happily, the pain was less poignant61 than before. Drawing a counterpane off the bed, he wrapt it round him, and sat down by the window. Both inside the house and out the silence for some time remained unbroken, but by-and-by there came to Burgo's ear a faint rumble62 of wheels from the busy thoroughfare into which Great Mornington Street debouches at its upper end; then, before long, the sounds became more frequent, and, after a little longer, almost continuous. Then he knew that the dead time of the night was past, and that he should not have much longer to wait for the first signs of day.
But already he had become far less concerned about his own predicament than about what it might possibly portend63 to his uncle, for that Lady Clinton was at the bottom of the business he never for a moment doubted. That it had been conceived and carried out with the view of bringing about a climax64, or a breach of some kind in the new and cordial relations between his uncle and himself, seemed, on the face of it, hardly open to question.
And yet, for the life of him, he could not see in what way drugging him, or making a prisoner of him for four-and-twenty hours (for, of course, it was absurd to suppose that he would allow himself to remain locked up there after daylight had fairly set in), could in any way conduce to whatever end her ladyship might have in view. But, in the absence of any foundation on which to build, surmise65 and speculation66 were futile67, and the merest waste of time. He would put them resolutely68 aside, and indulge in them no more. It was an easy enough promise to make, but a difficult one to keep.
After what to Burgo seemed an interminable time, a faint ghostly light began to broaden in the reaches of the upper sky, and the silver lamps of night to be extinguished one by one, for with the coming of dawn the fog had vanished. And now Burgo began to listen for some signs and tokens of reviving life in the household below stairs. But time went on, and the daylight broadened, but all his listening remained in vain. Within doors no faintest sound broke the silence. It was unaccountable. How long should he wait before he rang the bell and summoned some one? What, however, if there was no one to summon? "But that's absurd," he told himself, with a shrug69. "If the servants are not down already, they can't be long now. I'll wait another half-hour, and then----" His eyes had wandered to the bell-pull, or, rather, to the place where it ought to have been, for it was no longer there. It had been severed70 within a foot of the ceiling. As Burgo's eyes took in the fact, the blood for a moment or two seemed to curdle71 round his heart. More than all that had gone before it served to strike him with a chill dismay.
But it was no time for inaction. Not a moment longer would he sit there waiting for he knew not what. By this time daylight was sufficiently72 advanced to enable him to discern everything in the room. With Burgo necessity was the mother of contrivance. What he now did was to take off his braces73, separate them at the joining, and tie them end to end.
Then, having dragged his bed, which ran on castors, into position, he placed a chair on it, and having climbed on to the latter, he found that he could just reach to knot one end of his braces to the severed bell-pull. Then, having descended74 from his somewhat insecure perch75, he gave a vigorous tug76 at his improvised77 rope, and awaited the result.
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1
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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parlance
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| n.说法；语调 | |
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ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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5
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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6
precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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8
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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10
retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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commiserated
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| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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17
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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eavesdropper
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| 偷听者 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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31
plumb
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| adv.精确地，完全地；v.了解意义，测水深 | |
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ego
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| n.自我，自己，自尊 | |
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33
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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34
pertinent
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| adj.恰当的；贴切的；中肯的；有关的；相干的 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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40
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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41
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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42
reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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46
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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47
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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48
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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49
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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50
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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51
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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52
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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53
tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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54
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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55
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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56
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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57
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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59
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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60
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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63
portend
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| v.预兆，预示；给…以警告 | |
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64
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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67
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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68
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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69
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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71
curdle
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| v.使凝结，变稠 | |
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72
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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73
braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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74
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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75
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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76
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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