Bivens's illness shook the financial world. The men who had professed2 his friendship most loudly to his face now sharpened their knives for his wounded body. Every stock with which his name was linked was the target of the most savage3 attacks. The tumbling of values in his securities carried down the whole market from five to six points in a single day.
The great palace that had a few nights before blazed with lights and echoed with music, laughter, song and dance and clinking glasses, stood dark and silent behind its bristling4 iron fence.
Of all the fawning5 crowd that had thronged6 its portals to drink the wine and toast the greatness of its master, not one was his friend to-day. Each sycophant7 of yesterday was now a wolf prowling in the shadows, awaiting the chance to tear his wounded body.
Within the darkened palace the doctors were supreme8. In his great library they held consultation9 after consultation and secretly smiled when they thought of the figures they would write on his bills. They disagreed in details, but all agreed on the main conclusion—that the only hope was that he should quit work and play for several years.
When they made this solemn announcement to Bivens, he smiled for the first time. It was too good a joke. How could he play? He knew but one game, the big game of the man-hunt! He told his doctors politely but firmly that they might go to hell, he would go to Europe and see if there were doctors over there who knew anything.
The shaking miserable10 little figure staggered up the gang plank11 of a steamer. He made a brave show of strength to the reporters who swarmed12 about him for an interview and collapsed13 in the arms of his wife on reaching his staterooms.
He had forgotten his resentment14 on account of Woodman in the presence of the Great Terror, whose shadow had suddenly darkened the world, and clung with pathetic eagerness to Stuart's friendship.
The young lawyer had said good-bye to Nan with a sense of profound relief. From the bottom of his soul he thanked God she was going. It had been impossible to keep away from her, and each day he had felt the sheer physical magnetism15 of her presence more and more resistless.
He returned with renewed energy and enthusiasm to the practice of law. The wide fame he had achieved as district attorney brought him the best clients and from them he was able to choose only the cases which involved principles worth fighting for.
His spare time he gave in a loving effort to restore the doctor to his old cheerful frame of mind. He had returned Bivens's money in spite of his protest and made his old friend a loan sufficient for his needs, taking his personal note for security.
He had no difficulty in learning the progress of Bivens in his search of Europe for health.
A troop of reporters followed him daily. His doings were chronicled with more minute details than the movements of kings. If he sneezed, it was cabled to America. In every capital of the Old World he was received with what amounted to royal honours. His opinions were eagerly sought by reigning16 sovereigns. The daily cabled reports to New York always gave his condition as better.
But Stuart knew the truth. He received two or three letters a week from Nan. She had told him in full detail the little man's suffering, and at last of his homesickness, fast developing into a mania17.
He was not surprised at the end of three months to hear her familiar voice over his telephone.
"Yes, we've returned, Jim—sailed incognito18 to escape the reporters. He is very feeble. We haven't been in the house three hours, but he has asked for you a dozen times. Can you come up at once?"
Stuart hesitated and she went on rapidly.
"Please come without delay. I promised him not to leave the 'phone until I got you. You will come?"
"Yes, I'll come," he answered slowly.
He hung up the receiver with a groan19.
"It's Fate!" he said bitterly. "Every time I feel that I'm fighting my way to a place of safety, the devil bobs up serenely20 with an excuse so perfect it can't be denied. It won't do; I'll tear my tongue out sooner than speak."
He repeated these resolutions over and over before reaching the Bivens mansion21 only to find that he had lost all sense of danger in the warmth and tenderness of Nan's greeting. He not only forgot his fears but reproached himself for his low estimate of her character in supposing that she would allow herself or permit him to cross the line of danger. Her solicitude22 for Bivens seemed deep and genuine.
"For Heaven's sake, Jim," she begged, "try to cheer him up. He has grown to feel that you are the only real friend he has ever known."
"I'll do my best," he answered, soberly.
Bivens's joy at meeting Stuart was pathetic, and moved him deeply. He was surprised to find him so strong, apparently24, in body and yet so broken in spirit.
"Lord, it's good to look into your face again, Jim! You know I haven't seen you really since that day in court when you gave me such a cussin'. But it was all in your day's work. It hurt for the minute, but I didn't blame you when I thought it over. Now I'm up against the biggest thing I've ever struck." His voice sank to a half sob23. "Death! I can feel his hand on my throat, but I'm going to fight; I've got to get well."
The little shrunken hand clung to his friend's.
"You know I felt the thing creeping on me for the past two years, but I couldn't let up. That's why I tried so hard to put some of the load on your shoulders. At least you can help me to get well. To the devil with the doctors! I'm tired, too, of all the sycophants25, liars26 and fools who hang around. I didn't mind 'em when I was well. But they get on my nerves now. The doctors kept dinning27 into my ears that I've got to rest and play and finally one old duffer over in France put an idea into my head that brought me back home to see you. He told me to get on a small boat with a single nurse and a congenial friend, get away from land, cut every telephone and telegraph line, get no mail, and shoot ducks all winter and he'd guarantee I'd be a new man next spring. I took to the idea. He charged me two dollars for the visit. I paid him a hundred for his advice. He nearly dropped dead in surprise. I thought it was from gratitude28, but found afterward29 it was from chagrin30 over not knowing I was an American millionaire. He had missed the opportunity of his life. He would undoubtedly31 have charged me five hundred had he known who I was."
Stuart laughed.
"Well, the upshot of it is, I'm here, and I've sent for you to accept the invitation you gave me to shoot ducks with you down in Virginia."
"What invitation?" Stuart asked in surprise.
"Why, the one you used to reproach me for not accepting. Will you go with me now?"
Stuart shook his head.
"I can't go," he said slowly.
He was looking vaguely32 into the fire in the grate, but Nan's figure was within the line of his vision as she stood silently by the window gazing out on the river. Bivens hadn't said that she must go on that trip, but in a flash of warning intuition he knew it. The danger of such a situation on a yacht would be real and only a fool would rush into it. He wondered if she had played any part in hatching the scheme. He couldn't believe it possible. It had come about naturally, just as if the devil had made it to order.
"Can't go? Why?" the financier asked in tones of genuine distress33.
"I've important legal business."
"I'll make good all the damages, if you'll let me."
"But I won't let you."
"If I ask it as a special favour?" he pleaded.
"There's no use in my going, Cal," Stuart said persuasively34, "I can tell you exactly where to go, the guides to get, and the kind of boats you'll need. You'll get along better without than with me."
"I won't go without you," the financier said peevishly35.
"But why?"
"Dozens of reasons. You know the place, you know all about the birds, you can teach me the ins and outs of the business and I can trust you. I know that you won't try to worm out of me any information my enemies would like to know. Besides, Jim, you're a friend. It would rest and help me to be with you on such a trip. I can't offer you money, you won't let me. All right. I appeal to the boy I used to know at college, the fellow who fought for me one day. I need you worse now, old man."
Stuart hesitated and looked at Nan who had stood motionless while Bivens spoke36.
"Well, if that's the way you put it, I'll take a vacation and go with you for a month."
Bivens seized his hand and pressed it gratefully.
"Best medicine I've had in weeks."
Nan walked slowly across the room, looked into his eyes and said, with emotion:
"Thank you, Jim."
And the devil who was standing37 in the shadows smiled in anticipation38 of interesting events on board that yacht.
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1
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
sycophant
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| n.马屁精 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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reigning
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| adj.统治的，起支配作用的 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sycophants
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| n.谄媚者，拍马屁者( sycophant的名词复数 ) | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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dinning
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| vt.喧闹（din的现在分词形式） | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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33
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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persuasively
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| adv.口才好地；令人信服地 | |
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peevishly
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| adv．暴躁地 | |
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36
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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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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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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