Two long hours he had crouched2 beside the wall of the museum waiting for the one who had robbed him of the precious, mysterious package. He waited in vain. At last he gave up hope.
A hot breakfast revived his spirits. “I’ll go back and face the music,” he told himself with a grim set of his jaw4. “What I did was, I judged, for the greatest good of all, and no man can do more than that.”
He climbed a stairway, boarded an elevated train and went rattling5 away toward the distant airport.
128
He settled back in his place for half an hour’s ride and allowed his thoughts to wander. They were long, long thoughts. He was the youngest air pilot in the mail service. He had worked hard to reach that goal. The money for his flying instruction had been saved bit by bit. When he had earned an air pilot’s license6 he still had a long way to go. Little by little, he had piled up hours of successful flight until he was considered eligible7 for the Air Mail service. Months as a substitute, with an occasional flight, had preceded his regular commission.
He had not entered the service through a desire for adventure alone. He wished to serve his country. Knowing how rapidly the air service was developing, he had decided that there lay his great opportunity.
“Romance, adventure,” he murmured, “that’s all some people see in this airplane business.” He had once heard Lindbergh say that piloting a great passenger plane was about as exciting as driving a truck.
129
“And yet,” he smiled grimly, “the last few hours have shown me adventure enough. Forced down by an unknown pilot in the night.” He wondered now who his assailants could have been. He no longer believed they had been after the priceless violin.
“It was that other package sent by one radical9 group to another. But what did it contain? What must it contain to incite10 men to such reckless deeds of intrigue11?”
He saw now where he had made his mistake. Having learned from the noted12 violinist, Fritz Lieber, something of the nature of the package he was carrying and of the people to whom it was addressed, he should have moved with greater caution.
“Too late to think about that now,” he told himself. “Have to go to Crane and tell my story.”
130
Robert Crane, Jr., was District Manager of the Air Transportation Company. He was young, a college graduate, and son of a rich man. Curlie had seen little of him but had always feared him. Old men of long experience, whatever their importance in the world of affairs, never frightened him. But of a young man in a high position he simply did not know what to expect, that was all.
Thus it was with many misgivings13 that he sought out the young manager’s office.
Robert Crane sprang to his feet the instant the boy entered the door.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“I—”
“Delivering the mail in person, I am told. Since when has our company held that contract?”
“In an emergency,” Curlie was getting control of himself, “when there is great need one does what seems best.”
“Sit down!” The manager indicated a chair. Curlie sat down. “Now tell me about it, but be brief. There’s a man from the Government Secret Service waiting in the back office.”
Curlie shuddered14, cleared his throat twice, spoke15 a few words, choked up, took a fresh start. Then securing a firm grip on himself he proceeded to tell his story.
131
The young manager sat erect16 in his chair. The clock ticked off the seconds. From somewhere far away came the rumble17 of an airplane motor. When the boy had finished he was aware that he had told his story well.
“That—ah—” The young manager started to speak as Curlie finished, then stopped to stare at the ceiling. He punched two holes through a blotter, looked up, then punched three more.
“Undecided,” the boy thought to himself. “He’s young. That’s the trouble. An older man would know exactly what to do. I—”
“We’ll talk to that man.” Robert Crane broke in on his thoughts. He rang a bell. A girl appeared.
“Show in Mr. Simons.”
“This is Curlie Carson,” said the manager, “our man.” Curlie liked the way he said “our.” “Sit down. I’ll tell you about it.”
Simons sat down. “Secret Service,” Curlie thought, and shuddered anew.
132
In the five minutes that followed Curlie’s admiration20 for Robert Crane grew by leaps and bounds. He told Curlie’s story to the Secret Service man, told it as the boy could not have told it, and all in the space of five minutes.
“What if he is a rich man’s son?” Curlie said to himself. “He’s not to blame for that. He has his work to do in the world just as the rest of us have. He’ll do it, too.”
“That’s his story,” Robert Crane finished, “and don’t forget this; it’s our story as well. He is our man. We trust him; don’t hire a man we can’t. He’s our man. We’ll back him with the last resource we can command!”
A lump rose in Curlie’s throat. He felt that he was about to disgrace himself with tears. So this was Robert Crane, the young man he had feared!
“Quite right, Mr. Crane, quite right,” Mr. Simons was saying. “But the young man’s conduct has been—well, irregular. One doesn’t open locked mailsacks with a knife, not as a common thing.
133
“And this affair,” he leaned suddenly forward. “You are not aware, perhaps, that this innocent looking package contained a king’s ransom22 in jewels?”
Curlie stared. Crane started to speak, then stopped.
“Fact.” The Secret Service man’s voice cracked like a pistol. “Smuggled in. Part of the Crown Jewels of Russia. Reds over there had ’em. They decided to risk sneaking23 ’em here to be sold over the grapevine trail. Then, like as not, they’d spend the money trying to make this a Godless country without families or homes.
“And now,” he exclaimed, “for all we know they will succeed! Who has that package now? Tell me that! Who but some Bolshevik? Who dares even guess it is anyone else? And where is our Government’s rightful customs duty on those jewels? Gone. Hundreds of thousands, to say nothing of the inestimable harm that that money will do!”
134
“Guess that’s about all.” There was a kindly25 look on the young manager’s face, as he turned to Curlie. “You need sleep. Better get some. And don’t worry. We’ll fix it, we and God. Don’t ever forget that God is in on every transaction, either for or against us. We try to be on His side.”
Curlie did not speak. He could not. He turned and walked slowly from the room.
He was hardly out of the door when he was confronted by an eager-faced young lady.
“If you please,” she said, “is Mr. Carson in there?”
“I am Curlie Carson.”
“Now what?” the boy thought to himself.
“I am Grace Palmer,” said the girl, “and I wanted so much to see you.”
Grace Palmer. Worse and worse. He had never heard of her. Here was fresh mystery.
Yet, if he had but known it, this sudden meeting was to figure largely in his destiny.
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收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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2
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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4
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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5
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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6
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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7
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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8
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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9
radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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10
incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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11
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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12
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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13
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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14
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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15
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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16
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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17
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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19
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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20
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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21
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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22
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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23
sneaking
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| a.秘密的，不公开的 | |
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24
stumping
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的现在分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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25
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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