“Somewhere,” said Lord Peter to himself, “somewhere I’ve got the key to these two things. I know I’ve got it, only I can’t remember what it is. Somebody said it. Perhaps I said it. I can’t remember where, but I know I’ve got it. Go to bed, Bunter, I shall sit up a little. I’ll just slip on a dressing-gown.”
Before the fire he sat down with his pipe in his mouth and his jazz-coloured peacocks gathered about him. He traced out this line and that line of investigation—rivers running into the sand. They ran out from the thought of Levy4, last seen at ten o’clock in Prince of Wales Road. They ran back from the picture of the grotesque5 dead man in Mr. Thipps’s bathroom—they ran over the roof, and were lost—lost in the sand. Rivers running into the sand—rivers running underground, very far down—
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Down to a sunless sea.
165
By leaning his head down, it seemed to Lord Peter that he could hear them, very faintly, lipping and gurgling somewhere in the darkness. But where? He felt quite sure that somebody had told him once, only he had forgotten.
He roused himself, threw a log on the fire, and picked up a book which the indefatigable7 Bunter, carrying on his daily fatigues8 amid the excitements of special duty, had brought from the Times Book Club. It happened to be Sir Julian Freke’s “Physiological Bases of the Conscience,” which he had seen reviewed two days before.
“This ought to send one to sleep,” said Lord Peter; “if I can’t leave these problems to my subconscious9 I’ll be as limp as a rag tomorrow.”
He opened the book slowly, and glanced carelessly through the preface.
“I wonder if that’s true about Levy being ill,” he thought, putting the book down; “it doesn’t seem likely. And yet—Dash it all, I’ll take my mind off it.”
He read on resolutely10 for a little.
“I don’t suppose Mother’s kept up with the Levys much,” was the next importunate11 train of thought. “Dad always hated self-made people and wouldn’t have ’em at Denver. And old Gerald keeps up the tradition. I wonder if she knew Freke well in those days. She seems to get on with Milligan. I trust Mother’s judgment12 a good deal. She was a brick about that bazaar13 business. I ought to have warned her. She said something once—” 166
He pursued an elusive14 memory for some minutes, till it vanished altogether with a mocking flicker15 of the tail. He returned to his reading.
Presently another thought crossed his mind aroused by a photograph of some experiment in surgery.
“If the evidence of Freke and that man Watts17 hadn’t been so positive,” he said to himself, “I should be inclined to look into the matter of those shreds18 of lint19 on the chimney.”
He considered this, shook his head and read with determination.
Mind and matter were one thing, that was the theme of the physiologist20. Matter could erupt, as it were, into ideas. You could carve passions in the brain with a knife. You could get rid of imagination with drugs and cure an outworn convention like a disease. “The knowledge of good and evil is an observed phenomenon, attendant upon a certain condition of the brain-cells, which is removable.” That was one phrase; and again:
“Conscience in man may, in fact, be compared to the sting of a hive-bee, which, so far from conducing to the welfare of its possessor, cannot function, even in a single instance, without occasioning its death. The survival-value in each case is thus purely21 social; and if humanity ever passes from its present phase of social development into that of a higher individualism, as some of our philosophers have ventured to speculate, we may suppose that this interesting mental phenomenon may gradually cease to appear; just as the nerves and muscles which once controlled the 167 movements of our ears and scalps have, in all save a few backward individuals, become atrophied22 and of interest only to the physiologist.”
“By Jove!” thought Lord Peter, idly, “that’s an ideal doctrine23 for the criminal. A man who believed that would never—”
And then it happened—the thing he had been half-unconsciously expecting. It happened suddenly, surely, as unmistakably, as sunrise. He remembered—not one thing, nor another thing, nor a logical succession of things, but everything—the whole thing, perfect, complete, in all its dimensions as it were and instantaneously; as if he stood outside the world and saw it suspended in infinitely24 dimensional space. He no longer needed to reason about it, or even to think about it. He knew it.
There is a game in which one is presented with a jumble25 of letters and is required to make a word out of them, as thus:
C O S S S S R I
The slow way of solving the problem is to try out all the permutations and combinations in turn, throwing away impossible conjunctions of letters, as:
S S S I R C
or
S C S R S O
Another way is to stare at the inco-ordinate elements until, by no logical process that the conscious mind 168 can detect, or under some adventitious26 external stimulus27, the combination:
S C I S S O R S
presents itself with calm certainty. After that, one does not even need to arrange the letters in order. The thing is done.
Even so, the scattered28 elements of two grotesque conundrums29, flung higgledy-piggledy into Lord Peter’s mind, resolved themselves, unquestioned henceforward. A bump on the roof of the end house—Levy in a welter of cold rain talking to a prostitute in the Battersea Park Road—a single ruddy hair—lint bandages—Inspector Sugg calling the great surgeon from the dissecting-room of the hospital—Lady Levy with a nervous attack—the smell of carbolic soap—the Duchess’s voice—“not really an engagement, only a sort of understanding with her father”—shares in Peruvian Oil—the dark skin and curved, fleshy profile of the man in the bath—Dr. Grimbold giving evidence, “In my opinion, death did not occur for several days after the blow”—india-rubber gloves—even, faintly, the voice of Mr. Appledore, “He called on me, sir, with an anti-vivisectionist pamphlet”—all these things and many others rang together and made one sound, they swung together like bells in a steeple, with the deep tenor30 booming through the clamour:
“The knowledge of good and evil is a phenomenon of the brain, and is removable, removable, removable. The knowledge of good and evil is removable.” 169
Lord Peter Wimsey was not a young man who habitually31 took himself very seriously, but this time he was frankly32 appalled33. “It’s impossible,” said his reason, feebly; “credo quia impossibile,” said his interior certainty with impervious34 self-satisfaction. “All right,” said conscience, instantly allying itself with blind faith, “what are you going to do about it?”
Lord Peter got up and paced the room: “Good Lord!” he said. “Good Lord!” He took down “Who’s Who” from the little shelf over the telephone and sought comfort in its pages:
FREKE, Sir Julian, Kt. cr. 1916; G.C.V.O. cr. 1919; K.C.V.O. 1917; K.C.B. 1918; M.D., F.R.C.P., F.R.C.S., Dr. en Méd. Paris; D. Sci. Cantab.; Knight35 of Grace of the Order of S. John of Jerusalem; Consulting Surgeon of St. Luke’s Hospital, Battersea. b. Gryllingham, 16 March, 1872, only son of Edward Curzon Freke, Esq., of Gryll Court, Gryllingham. Educ. Harrow and Trinity Coll., Cambridge; Col. A.M.S.; late Member of the Advisory36 Board of the Army Medical Service. Publications: Some Notes on the Pathological Aspects of Genius, 1892; Statistical37 Contributions to the Study of Infantile Paralysis38 in England and Wales, 1894; Functional39 Disturbances40 of the Nervous System, 1899; Cerebro-Spinal Diseases, 1904; The Borderland of Insanity41, 1906; An Examination into the Treatment of Pauper42 Lunacy in the United Kingdom, 1906; Modern Developments in Psycho-Therapy: A Criticism, 1910; Criminal Lunacy, 1914; The Application of Psycho-Therapy to the Treatment of Shell-Shock, 1917; An Answer to Professor Freud, with a Description of Some Experiments Carried Out at the Base Hospital at Amiens, 1919; Structural43 Modifications44 Accompanying the More Important Neuroses, 1920. Clubs: White’s; Oxford45 and 170 Cambridge; Alpine46, etc. Recreations: Chess, Mountaineering, Fishing. Address: 282, Harley Street and St. Luke’s House, Prince of Wales Road, Battersea Park, S.W.11.
He sat down again and buried his face in his hands. He remembered quite suddenly how, years ago, he had stood before the breakfast table at Denver Castle—a small, peaky boy in blue knickers, with a thunderously beating heart. The family had not come down; there was a great silver urn16 with a spirit lamp under it, and an elaborate coffee-pot boiling in a glass dome48. He had twitched49 the corner of the tablecloth50—twitched it harder, and the urn moved ponderously51 forward and all the teaspoons52 rattled53. He seized the tablecloth in a firm grip and pulled his hardest—he could feel now the delicate and awful thrill as the urn and the coffee machine and the whole of a Sèvres breakfast service had crashed down in one stupendous ruin—he remembered the horrified54 face of the butler, and the screams of a lady guest.
A log broke across and sank into a fluff of white ash. A belated motor-lorry rumbled55 past the window.
Mr. Bunter, sleeping the sleep of the true and faithful servant, was aroused in the small hours by a hoarse56 whisper, “Bunter!”
“Yes, my lord,” said Bunter, sitting up and switching on the light.
“Put that light out, damn you!” said the voice. “Listen—over there—listen—can’t you hear it?” 171
“It’s nothing, my lord,” said Mr. Bunter, hastily getting out of bed and catching57 hold of his master; “it’s all right, you get to bed quick and I’ll fetch you a drop of bromide. Why, you’re all shivering—you’ve been sitting up too late.”
“Hush! no, no—it’s the water,” said Lord Peter with chattering58 teeth; “it’s up to their waists down there, poor devils. But listen! can’t you hear it? Tap, tap, tap—they’re mining us—but I don’t know where—I can’t hear—I can’t. Listen, you! There it is again—we must find it—we must stop it.... Listen! Oh, my God! I can’t hear—I can’t hear anything for the noise of the guns. Can’t they stop the guns?”
“Oh, dear!” said Mr. Bunter to himself. “No, no—it’s all right, Major—don’t you worry.”
“But I hear it,” protested Peter.
“So do I,” said Mr. Bunter stoutly59; “very good hearing, too, my lord. That’s our own sappers at work in the communication trench60. Don’t you fret61 about that, sir.”
“Our own sappers,” he said; “sure of that?”
“Certain of it,” said Mr. Bunter, cheerfully.
“They’ll bring down the tower,” said Lord Peter.
“To be sure they will,” said Mr. Bunter, “and very nice, too. You just come and lay down a bit, sir—they’ve come to take over this section.”
“You’re sure it’s safe to leave it?” said Lord Peter.
“Safe as houses, sir,” said Mr. Bunter, tucking his master’s arm under his and walking him off to his bedroom. 172
Lord Peter allowed himself to be dosed and put to bed without further resistance. Mr. Bunter, looking singularly un-Bunterlike in striped pyjamas63, with his stiff black hair ruffled64 about his head, sat grimly watching the younger man’s sharp cheekbones and the purple stains under his eyes.
“Thought we’d had the last of these attacks,” he said. “Been overdoin’ of himself. Asleep?” He peered at him anxiously. An affectionate note crept into his voice. “Bloody little fool!” said Sergeant65 Bunter.
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1
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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jigging
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| n.跳汰选，簸选v.（使）上下急动( jig的现在分词 ) | |
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3
riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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4
levy
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| n.征收税或其他款项，征收额 | |
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5
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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6
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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7
indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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8
fatigues
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| n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 )；杂役；厌倦；（士兵穿的）工作服 | |
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9
subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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10
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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11
importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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12
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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13
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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14
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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15
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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16
urn
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| n.（有座脚的）瓮；坟墓；骨灰瓮 | |
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17
watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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18
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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19
lint
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| n.线头；绷带用麻布，皮棉 | |
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20
physiologist
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| n.生理学家 | |
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21
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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22
atrophied
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| adj.萎缩的，衰退的v.（使）萎缩，（使）虚脱，（使）衰退( atrophy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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24
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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25
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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26
adventitious
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| adj.偶然的 | |
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27
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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28
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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29
conundrums
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| n.谜，猜不透的难题，难答的问题( conundrum的名词复数 ) | |
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30
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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31
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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32
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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33
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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34
impervious
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| adj.不能渗透的，不能穿过的，不易伤害的 | |
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35
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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36
advisory
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| adj.劝告的，忠告的，顾问的，提供咨询 | |
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37
statistical
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| adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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38
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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39
functional
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| adj.为实用而设计的，具备功能的，起作用的 | |
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40
disturbances
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| n.骚乱( disturbance的名词复数 )；打扰；困扰；障碍 | |
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41
insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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42
pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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43
structural
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| adj.构造的，组织的，建筑（用）的 | |
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44
modifications
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| n.缓和( modification的名词复数 )；限制；更改；改变 | |
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45
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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46
alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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47
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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48
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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49
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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51
ponderously
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52
teaspoons
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| n.茶匙( teaspoon的名词复数 )；一茶匙的量 | |
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53
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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54
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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55
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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56
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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57
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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58
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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59
stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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60
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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61
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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62
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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63
pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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64
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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65
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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