The only costume that fitted me in the barber’s emporium was that of a Teddy Bear. I don’t mind playing bears with some nice young girls on a winter’s evening in England—but it’s hardly an ideal costume for the equator. However, I created a good deal of merriment, and won first prize for “brought on board”—an absurd term for a costume hired for the evening. Still as nobody seemed to have the least idea whether they were made or brought, it didn’t matter.
Mrs. Blair refused to dress up. Apparently1 she is at one with Pagett on the matter. Colonel Race followed her example. Anne Beddingfeld had concocted2 a gipsy costume for herself, and looked extraordinarily3 well. Pagett said he had a headache and didn’t appear. To replace him I asked a quaint4 little fellow called Reeves. He’s a prominent member of the South African Labour party. Horrible little man, but I want to keep in with him, as he gives me information that I need. I want to understand this Rand business from both sides.
Dancing was a hot affair. I danced twice with Anne Beddingfeld and she had to pretend she liked it. I danced once with Mrs. Blair, who didn’t trouble to pretend, and I victimized various other damsels whose appearance struck me favourably5.
Then we went down to supper. I had ordered champagne6; the steward7 suggested Clicquot 1911 as being the best they had on the boat and I fell in with his suggestion. I seemed to have hit on the one thing that would loosen Colonel Race’s tongue. Far from being taciturn, the man became actually talkative. For a while this amused me, then it occurred to me that Colonel Race, and not myself, was becoming the life and soul of the party. He chaffed me at length about keeping a diary.
“It will reveal all your indiscretions one of these days, Pedler.”
“My dear Race,” I said, “I venture to suggest that I am not quite the fool you think me. I may commit indiscretions, but I don’t write them down in black and white. After my death, my executors will know my opinion of a great many people, but I doubt if they will find anything to add or detract from their opinion of me. A diary is useful for recording8 the idiosyncrasies of other people—but not one’s own.”
“There is such a thing as unconscious self-revelation, though.”
“In the eyes of the psycho-analyst, all things are vile,” I replied sententiously.
“You must have had a very interesting life, Colonel Race?” said Miss Beddingfeld, gazing at him with wide, starry9 eyes.
That’s how they do it, these girls! Othello charmed Desdemona by telling her stories, but, oh, didn’t Desdemona charm Othello by the way she listened?
Anyway, the girl set Race off all right. He began to tell lion stories. A man who has shot lions in large quantities has an unfair advantage over other men. It seemed to me that it was time I, too, told a lion story. One of a more sprightly10 character.
“By the way,” I remarked, “that reminds me of a rather exciting tale I heard. A friend of mine was out on a shooting trip somewhere in East Africa. One night he came out of his tent for some reason, and was startled by a low growl11. He turned sharply and saw a lion crouching12 to spring. He had left his rifle in the tent. Quick as thought, he ducked, and the lion sprang right over his head. Annoyed at having missed him, the animal growled13 and prepared to spring again. Again he ducked, and again the lion sprang right over him. This happened a third time, but by now he was close to the entrance of the tent, and he darted14 in and seized his rifle. When he emerged, rifle in hand, the lion had disappeared. That puzzled him greatly. He crept round the back of the tent, where there was a little clearing. There, sure enough, was the lion, busily practising low jumps.”
This was received with a roar of applause. I drank some champagne.
“On another occasion,” I remarked, “this friend of mine had a second curious experience. He was trekking15 across country, and being anxious to arrive at his destination before the heat of the day he ordered his boys to inspan whilst it was still dark. They had some trouble in doing so, as the mules17 were very restive18, but at last they managed it, and a start was made. The mules raced along like the wind, and when daylight came they saw why. In the darkness, the boys had inspanned a lion as the near wheeler.”
This, too, was well received, a ripple19 of merriment going round the table, but I am not sure that the greatest tribute did not come from my friend, the Labour Member, who remained pale and serious.
“My God!” he said anxiously. “Who un’arnessed them?”
“I must go to Rhodesia,” said Mrs. Blair. “After what you have told us, Colonel Race, I simply must. It’s a horrible journey though, five days in the train.”
“You must join me on my private car,” I said gallantly20. “Oh, Sir Eustace, how sweet of you, do you really mean it?”
“Do I mean it!” I exclaimed reproachfully, and drank another glass of champagne.
“Just about another week, and we shall be in South Africa,” sighed Mrs. Blair.
“Ah, South Africa,” I said sentimentally21, and began to quote from a recent speech of mine at the Colonial Institute. “What has South Africa to show the world? What indeed? Her fruit and her farms, her wool and her wattles, her herds22 and her hides, her gold and her diamonds——”
I was hurrying on, because I knew that as soon as I paused Reeves would butt23 in and inform me that the hides were worthless because the animals hung themselves up on barbed wire or something of that sort, would crab24 everything else, and end up with the hardships of the miners on the Rand. And I was not in the mood to be abused as a Capitalist. However, the interruption came from another source at the magic word diamonds.
“Diamonds!” said Mrs. Blair ecstatically.
“Diamonds!” breathed Miss Beddingfeld.
They both addressed Colonel Race.
“I suppose you’ve been to Kimberley?”
I had been to Kimberley too, but I didn’t manage to say so in time. Race was being inundated25 with questions. What were mines like? Was it true that the natives were kept shut up in compounds? And so on.
Race answered their questions and showed a good knowledge of his subject. He described the methods of housing the natives, the searches instituted, and the various precautions that De Beers took.
“Then it’s practically impossible to steal any diamonds?” asked Mrs. Blair with as keen an air of disappointment as though she had been journeying there for the express purpose.
“Nothing’s impossible, Mrs. Blair. Thefts do occur—like the case I told you of where the Kafir hid the stone in his wound.”
“Yes, but on a large scale?”
“Once, in recent years. Just before the War in fact. You must remember the case, Pedler. You were in South Africa at the time?”
I nodded.
“Tell us,” cried Miss Beddingfeld. “Oh, do tell us!”
Race smiled.
“Very well, you shall have the story. I suppose most of you have heard of Sir Laurence Eardsley, the great South African mining magnate? His mines were gold mines, but he comes into the story through his son. You may remember that just before the War rumours26 were afield of a new potential Kimberley hidden somewhere in the rocky floor of the British Guiana jungles. Two young explorers, so it was reported, had returned from that part of South America bringing with them a remarkable27 collection of rough diamonds, some of them of considerable size. Diamonds of small size had been found before in the neighbourhood of the Essequibo and Mazaruni rivers, but these two young men, John Eardsley and his friend Lucas, claimed to have discovered beds of great carbon deposits at the common head of two streams. The diamonds were of every colour, pink, blue, yellow, green, black, and the purest white. Eardsley and Lucas came to Kimberley where they were to submit their gems28 to inspection29. At the same time a sensational30 robbery was found to have taken place at De Beers. When sending diamonds to England they are made up into a packet. This remains31 in the big safe, of which the two keys are held by two different men whilst a third man knows the combination. They are handed to the Bank, and the Bank send them to England. Each package is worth, roughly, about ￡100,000.
“On this occasion, the Bank were struck by something a little unusual about the sealing of the packet. It was opened, and found to contain knobs of sugar!
“Exactly how suspicion came to fasten on John Eardsley I do not know. It was remembered that he had been very wild at Cambridge and that his father had paid his debts more than once. Anyhow, it soon got about that this story of South American diamond fields was all a fantasy. John Eardsley was arrested. In his possession was found a portion of the De Beer diamonds.
“But the case never came to court. Sir Laurence Eardsley paid over a sum equal to the missing diamonds and De Beers did not prosecute32. Exactly how the robbery was committed has never been known. But the knowledge that his son was a thief broke the old man’s heart. He had a stroke shortly afterwards. As for John, his Fate was in a way merciful. He enlisted33, went to the War, fought there bravely, and was killed, thus wiping out the stain on his name. Sir Laurence himself had a third stroke and died about a month ago. He died intestate and his vast fortune passed to his next of kin16, a man whom he hardly knew.”
The Colonel paused. A babel of ejaculations and questions broke out. Something seemed to attract Miss Beddingfeld’s attention, and she turned in her chair. At the little gasp34 she gave, I, too, turned.
My new secretary, Rayburn, was standing35 in the doorway36. Under his tan, his face had the pallor of one who has seen a ghost. Evidently Race’s story had moved him profoundly.
“Do you know who that is?” asked Anne Beddingfeld abruptly.
“That’s my other secretary,” I explained. “Mr. Rayburn. He’s been seedy up to now.”
She toyed with the bread by her plate.
“Has he been your secretary long?”
“Not very long,” I said cautiously.
But caution is useless with a woman, the more you hold back, the more she presses forward. Anne Beddingfeld made no bones about it.
“How long?” she asked bluntly.
“Well—er—I engaged him just before I sailed. Old friend of mine recommended him.”
She said nothing more, but relapsed into a thoughtful silence. I turned to Race with the feeling that it was my turn to display an interest in his story.
“Who is Sir Laurence’s next of kin, Race? Do you know?”
“I should say so,” he replied, with a smile. “I am!”
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1
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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2
concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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5
favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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6
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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8
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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9
starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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10
sprightly
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| adj.愉快的，活泼的 | |
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11
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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12
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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13
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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14
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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15
trekking
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| v.艰苦跋涉，徒步旅行( trek的现在分词 )；（尤指在山中）远足，徒步旅行，游山玩水 | |
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16
kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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17
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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20
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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24
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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25
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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26
rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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27
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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28
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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29
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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30
sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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31
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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33
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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35
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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36
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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37
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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38
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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