'Twas time and time to go;
Behind lay dock and Dartmoor,
Ahead lay Callao!
The Broken Men.
The hamlet of Woodlands is near Wrotham, in the county of Kent. To reach it you must take the old Chatham and Dover at Victoria and get out at Otford, a sweet-scented village sitting at ease in the wide vale of the Darenth. Leaving that behind, you will turn eastwards2 by the Pilgrims' Way, which winds along the lower spurs of the Downs, above Kemsing, Ightham, St. Clere, on its way to Canterbury. That too you leave in half-a-mile, and strike into the hills on your left, up a perpendicular3 lane where the contour lines on the ordnance4 map jostle each other, four, five, six, seven hundred feet in the width of as many yards, the woods climbing with you, arching your road in a green tunnel. They thin, they dispart, and you are on the summit of the Downs; great rolling fluted5 hills covered with thymy turf, knots of gorse, noble trees standing6 singly with a scattering7 of bracken in their shade, innumerable rabbits tossing up their little white scuts as they bolt into their burrows8. Very steep and graceful9 in their lines, these Kentish hills; very beautiful the green floor of the valley outspread below, the wooded height of River Hill, the hare-bell blue of distant chains, rising half transparent10 against the sky..
On you go, turning your back on all this, over the ridge11, into the heart of the Downs. Your lane twists, dropping into nameless green dells, rising over nameless green knolls12, between woods that slope a dozen ways at once, and [Pg 130]hedgerows which "the primroses13 run down to, carrying gold"—even in October. Next you pass a farm, with its warm-scented yellow ricks, its black barns, mossy-thatched, its garden full of milk-white phlox, magenta14 chrysanthemums15, black and yellow sun-flowers, tan and purple snapdragons. You wheel round a corner, you descend16 another break-neck lane all grass and flints, and here in a green nest among the hills, which rise steep all round, here you will find your journey's end—the hamlet of Woodlands. Half-a-dozen old cottages, a minute school-house, a minute church, and the vicarage.
Gardiner's birthplace was a square white house with a red roof, green jalousies, and bay windows on either side of a pillared porch. In front, a square of lawn was guarded from the road by a laurel hedge, and bisected by a gravel17 walk leading to the door. Picture the place in October. Those white walls are hidden, partly by Gloire de Dijon roses, still thick with yellow buds and creamy blossoms, for it is warm in this nest among the hills; and partly by creepers, cardinal18, carmine19, red-rose, fringing out in trails of daffodil green. The borders are full of flowers, roses and chrysanthemums blooming together, yellow and brown nasturtiums among their thin round emerald leaves, Michaelmas daisies, a bank of lilac against the laurels20. The woods are full-leaved still and autumn-glorious; there is russet of oaks, orange of hawthorns21, lemon-yellow of maples22, and here and there, like black-cowled monks23 at a pageant24, the scattered25 yews26 which always haunt the line of the Pilgrims' Way. Woods, woods, and woods all round, rising like a golden cup, save only to the north. Here a valley opens, and the unfenced, unmetalled road winds away, between hills of thin grayish-green turf, white-scarred with chalk and dotted with sheep, towards Maplescombe, Farningham, and civilization, represented by the unpleasant town of Dartford.
Two young men were pacing the vicarage lawn. One was slight, short, dark, un-English: Harry27 Gardiner. The other was tall, broad-shouldered, serious, ultra-correct: his brother[Pg 131] Tom, of the Royal Engineers. Tom, though three years the younger, was in the case of the elder brother of the parable28, who really had his grievance29. He had always been an exemplary son, steady, dutiful, even clever; yet Mr. Gardiner freely proclaimed his preference for the vagabond and runaway30. Moreover, though he had worked hard all his life, Tom made barely enough by his profession to keep himself. Harry, the rolling stone, had but to open his hand for the gifts of Fortune to tumble into it, and was able to make his father a comfortable allowance. He was lucky; Tom was not. Tom felt sometimes a little sore; but he acknowledged ruefully that it was nobody's fault, and couldn't be helped. There was a child-like vigor31 and directness about Mr. Gardiner's feelings which made them wholly insuppressible, and though he was often egregiously32 unfair, neither of his sons dreamed of resenting it.
"Well, I'm glad you wired for me, false alarm or no. I'd ten times rather you sometimes brought me over when it's not necessary than think you mightn't do it when it was. A wonderful old boy, he really is—but I wish he wouldn't play the divvle with his constitution quite so freely!"
This was Harry, light, quick, decisive. Tom's voice was slower and deeper.
"He let out to-day that the attack came on after he'd been rolling the lawn all the morning."
"No, did he? What a cunning old sinner it is! I must say it's a comfort to me to know that you're so close at hand at Chatham, Tom. By the way, when do you expect to get your step?"
"Not for a couple of years yet," said Tom, with a sigh. "Promotion33 in the Sappers is so beastly slow!"
Gardiner shot a keen glance at him.
"And you won't marry till you do get it?"
"Can't afford to, unless I'm sent to India," Tom ruefully acknowledged.
"Borrow off me, and settle things up at once."
"Many thanks, but I should never be able to pay you back."
[Pg 132]
"Don't, then. I'm laying up treasure on earth, which the Prayer Book says I mustn't. There's a couple of hundred lying idle at my bank which you're entirely34 welcome to, and which would just tide you over the next two years. You ought to be a family man, Thomas, you were cut out for it. Besides, Miss Woodward will get sick of waiting."
Tom continued to shake his obstinate35 head. "It's very good of you, but I'd rather not do that," he said with some constraint36. "You'll want to marry yourself some day."
Gardiner looked at him again, with a faint, faint light of amusement. He could never bring himself to take Tom quite seriously. How annoying that was, to Tom! and how little Gardiner meant to annoy!
"When I find myself in danger of matrimony, maybe I'll start saving," he said lightly. "I suppose it's no use pressing you? No? Well, of course I'd take it myself, if I were in your shoes, but then I haven't your fine sturdy independence, Thomas—also I'm older than you are, and a little less positive about the lines of right and wrong. There are times when you remind me of Denis Merion-Smith, do you know? By the by, I must run down and see him before I go back. Yes, and if I pass through town I can also see—"
His voice trailed off into a meditative37 whistle, and a spark lighted in his eye.
"Who?" asked Tom with curiosity.
"A young lady friend of mine, who's invited me to call on her. There's a plum for you, Thomas; make the most of it. Hullo, here's daddy."
Mr. Gardiner appeared in the porch, a small wiry figure with a spud in his hand and a Scotch38 plaid trailing from one shoulder. The top of his head was bald as ivory, but he carefully trained across it certain gray locks which, when he went out without a hat (as he did more often than not), ruffled39 up on end like a crest40. He was making towards the flower-bed when his son came and took the tool away.
"No, daddy, that I really can't allow," he declared, folding the plaid round the little figure. It was rather like trying to wrap up a flea41, for Mr. Gardiner made a dive in the[Pg 133] middle to uproot42 a daisy. "You must remember you're an invalid43. You sit on the seat and superintend. Vamos, hombre—that's better. Now, what do you want done?"
"The whole place is in a disgraceful state," said the invalid rebelliously44. "Disgraceful. It wants digging over from end to end. Look at the lawn! That's a dandelion, I declare!"
He made another dart1, again frustrated45 by his laughing son. "Here, you come and sit on him, Tom, while I mow46 the lawn!" Tom rather reluctantly sat down and kept his father anchored by the arm, while Gardiner plied47 the spud with more energy than skill, earning nothing but abuse from the ungrateful invalid.
"You young folk think you can do everything!" he said irately48. "I know you! You'll be getting up into my pulpit next. I'll preach next Sunday, no matter what you say, on the dangers of conceit49. Nice incapable50 pair of sons I have!"
The sun shone, the doves purred in the lime-trees, and Mr. Gardiner scolded his sons with all his energetic soul because they wouldn't let him dig over the asparagus beds. He had prolonged his life to this his sixty-ninth year on cod-liver oil, and was now recovering from an attack of hemorrhage. He had had three in the past four years, but he could never be persuaded to take any precautions. He kept his sons in perpetual anxiety, tempered, at least for Gardiner, by faith in his luck. He had deserved to die a dozen times, but he never had; and Gardiner found it hard to believe he ever would.
You cannot know a man thoroughly51 till you have seen him in his home. He may be more truly himself away from it; but his relations with his family always contribute something to the sum of his character. Woodlands was Harry Gardiner's home; those woods had been the background and the vicarage the foreground of his childhood. The income of the living was one hundred and seventy pounds, and Mrs. Gardiner had besides sixty pounds a year of her own. After deducting52 life assurance, expense of collection and[Pg 134] rates (which the unhappy parson whose stipend53 comes from tithe54 pays on the whole of his income, as well as on the ratable value of his house), there was left about one hundred and forty pounds to live on. That, for four persons, is poverty: not want, but wholesome55, bracing56 poverty. Many a time had Gardiner blessed his early training to endure hardness. He blessed also the memory of his big, breezy, soft-hearted, hot-tempered, quick-witted mother. Two pictures rose in his mind whenever Gardiner thought of her. In one she was chopping suet with La Hermana San Sulpicio propped57 on the kitchen scales before her nose; in the other she was boxing the ears of a choir-boy who sang flat. She was half Spanish, and had been brought up as a Roman Catholic; but she 'verted so completely that she was able to remain a High Churchwoman, and to enjoy hearing Mass from time to time. She died during Harry's first voyage, of measles58, caught in Sunday school.
Gardiner lounged on the seat, his labors59 ended, with an affectionate arm thrown round his father's shoulders. Presently the postman came in sight, and Tom went to take the letters, which were delivered at Woodlands only once a day. There was a moneylender's circular for the vicar, a love letter for himself and a whole sheaf for Harry, sent on from Rochehaut, which he had left at a moment's notice, in answer to Tom's telegram. Tom, absorbed in his charming May, Mr. Gardiner, inveighing60 against the slackness of the Government, failed to notice, either of them, the startling change in Harry's face as he examined his share of the post.
"Daddy, I'm sorry to say I've got to go."
He was already on his feet, crushing the letter in his hand. Mr. Gardiner looked up.
"Go? You can't go, it's just dinner-time. I never knew anybody so restless as you two boys; you can't be still a moment!" This was indeed Satan rebuking61 sin. "Where do you want to go to?"
"Can't say. Callao, for choice."
[Pg 135]
"What?"
"Callao?" echoed Tom, at the same moment. "Why, I thought you were due back at Rochehaut on Saturday!"
"So I am, but I shall have to cut it. Look here, daddy, I'm really most frightfully sorry." He dropped down again beside his father and threw an arm round his neck. "You mustn't worry your dear old head about it, because it's not worth that; but the truth is I've got myself into rather a scrape. I'm wanted by the police, if you please! Silly business, isn't it? Of course it'll all blow over, but in the meantime I have to clear out. I don't want to be had up. There's a train to town at two-thirty, which I shall just catch if I put a sprint62 on. What, Tom? Oh, it's Merion-Smith who writes me. His letter's been out to Rochehaut, and they kept it there till they heard from me telling them to forward things. That's why I'm in such a divvle of a hurry."
"But, Harry, Harry," cried the old man, clinging to him with the tenacity63 of age and love, "what is it about? And is it true? Have you done anything? Are you to blame?"
"No, daddy, I'm not." The answer came unhesitatingly. He stooped and kissed his father. "Don't you worry about that. I've done nothing to be ashamed of, I give you my word. I'll write and tell you all about it, and the reason why I can't stay, but I haven't time now. See after him, Tom!"
The son who wasn't wanted tried vainly to console the old man for the loss of the son who was. Mr. Gardiner would have pursued Harry to his room with questions if the nurse had not come out to take him in charge; failing that, he sent Tom to knock at the door. A preoccupied64 voice told him to come in, and there was Gardiner on his knees, cramming65 clothes into a suit-case—a contrast, this, to his usual methodical habits.
"I've written a check payable66 to you for the amount of my balance at the bank," he said without looking up; "it's there on the table. Better cash it at once, and then you can[Pg 136] let father have his money as usual. I may want some myself later on, when I can let you have an address. By the way, have you any ready money on you?"
"Only loose silver."
"Oh, dash!—I'm run short too, and I know daddy hasn't any in the house. Well, I must raise the wind in town somehow. It's an infernal nuisance about the delay of that letter. Nearly ten days since Denis wrote!"
"But look here," said Tom, getting out the question that was burning his tongue, "what's it all about? What are you accused of?"
"Murder; so now you know."
"Good God!"
Gardiner only laughed, and went on with his packing. Tom, after a moment's appalled67 silence, found words.
"Then in heaven's name, Harry, if you're innocent, why do you bolt? You're giving your case away. You'll never be able to show your face in England again—why, good heavens! it means that father will never see you again! It'll break his heart. Why on earth don't you stay and face it out?"
"Because I did it, my good chap." Gardiner faced his brother for the first time, sitting back on his heels. "Mind you, what I said to father was strictly68 true. I've done nothing to be ashamed of; nothing I wouldn't do again to-morrow—or you either, you pillar of respectability! If I were at liberty to explain all the circumstances I certainly wouldn't bolt. But I'm not; and there's the rub. Why?—oh, it's a complicated business; there are other people involved. That's why I'm departing in such a hurry. Cheer up, Thomas; it's less scandalous to have a brother in Callao than one dangling69 at the end of a string in Westby Jail. Better for father too. I can at least write to him."
Tom did not answer. Homicide is homicide, no matter what specious70 excuses Harry might manufacture; and after hearing his gloss71 on his downright denial to his father, Tom was not disposed to trust his assertions of innocence72.
The room was in the front of the house, giving on the
[Pg 137]
"There's the Wrotham bobby at the gate, with another man."
"What?"
Gardiner sprang to the window, and then fell back out of sight behind the curtain. "Yes; they're after me. Wired out to Rochehaut, I suppose, and wired back. Keep them off daddy, and stick out to him that I'm innocent. Keep them off me too, if you can, and give me a start. Say I've gone to town. I'll write when I can."
Tom clattered74 down the stairs behind his lighter-footed brother. At the bottom the passage ran right and left, to front and back. Gardiner turned to the left, but was stopped by a grip on his shoulder. The ties of brotherhood75 held in the face of danger. Tom was holding out his hand.
"Good-by, Harry—God bless you."
"Good-by, old Tom."
They parted: Tom to the front, to tackle the police; Gardiner to the back, en route for South America.
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1
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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eastwards
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| adj.向东方（的），朝东（的）；n.向东的方向 | |
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perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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4
ordnance
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| n.大炮，军械 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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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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7
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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8
burrows
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| n.地洞( burrow的名词复数 )v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的第三人称单数 )；翻寻 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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knolls
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| n.小圆丘，小土墩( knoll的名词复数 ) | |
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13
primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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14
magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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16
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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17
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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carmine
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| n.深红色，洋红色 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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hawthorns
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| n.山楂树( hawthorn的名词复数 ) | |
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maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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pageant
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| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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27
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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parable
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| n.寓言，比喻 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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egregiously
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| adv.过份地，卓越地 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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uproot
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| v.连根拔起，拔除；根除，灭绝；赶出家园，被迫移开 | |
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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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rebelliously
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| adv.造反地，难以控制地 | |
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frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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mow
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| v.割（草、麦等），扫射，皱眉；n.草堆，谷物堆 | |
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47
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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irately
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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51
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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52
deducting
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| v.扣除，减去( deduct的现在分词 ) | |
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53
stipend
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| n.薪贴；奖学金；养老金 | |
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tithe
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| n.十分之一税；v.课什一税，缴什一税 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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56
bracing
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| adj.令人振奋的 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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inveighing
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| v.猛烈抨击，痛骂，谩骂( inveigh的现在分词 ) | |
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61
rebuking
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的现在分词 ) | |
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62
sprint
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| n.短距离赛跑；vi. 奋力而跑，冲刺；vt.全速跑过 | |
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63
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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64
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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65
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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66
payable
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| adj.可付的，应付的，有利益的 | |
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67
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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68
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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69
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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70
specious
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| adj.似是而非的；adv.似是而非地 | |
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71
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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72
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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73
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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74
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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75
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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