A good many hours after Salisbury had returned to the company of the green rep chairs, Dyson still sat at his desk, itself a Japanese romance, smoking many pipes, and meditating1 over his friend’s story. The bizarre quality of the inscription2 which had annoyed Salisbury was to him an attraction, and now and again he took it up and scanned thoughtfully what he had written, especially the quaint3 jingle4 at the end. It was a token, a symbol, he decided5, and not a cipher6, and the woman who had flung it away was in all probability entirely7 ignorant of its meaning; she was but the agent of the ‘Sam’ she had abused and discarded, and he too was again the agent of some one unknown; possibly of the individual styled Q, who had been forced to visit his French friends. But what to make of ‘Traverse Handel S.’ Here was the root and source of the enigma8, and not all the tobacco of Virginia seemed likely to suggest any clue here. It seemed almost hopeless, but Dyson regarded himself as the Wellington of mysteries, and went to bed feeling assured that sooner or later he would hit upon the right track. For the next few days he was deeply engaged in his literary labours, labours which were a profound mystery even to the most intimate of his friends, who searched the railway bookstalls in vain for the result of so many hours spent at the Japanese bureau in company with strong tobacco and black tea. On this occasion Dyson confined himself to his room for four days, and it was with genuine relief that he laid down his pen and went out into the streets in quest of relaxation9 and fresh air. The gas-lamps were being lighted, and the fifth edition of the evening papers was being howled through the streets, and Dyson, feeling that he wanted quiet, turned away from the clamorous10 Strand11, and began to trend away to the north-west. Soon he found himself in streets that echoed to his footsteps, and crossing a broad new thoroughfare, and verging12 still to the west, Dyson discovered that he had penetrated13 to the depths of Soho. Here again was life; rare vintages of France and Italy, at prices which seemed contemptibly14 small, allured15 the passer-by; here were cheeses, vast and rich, here olive oil, and here a grove16 of Rabelaisian sausages; while in a neighbouring shop the whole Press of Paris appeared to be on sale. In the middle of the roadway a strange miscellany of nations sauntered to and fro, for there cab and hansom rarely ventured; and from window over window the inhabitants looked forth17 in pleased contemplation of the scene. Dyson made his way slowly along, mingling18 with the crowd on the cobble-stones, listening to the queer babel of French and German, and Italian and English, glancing now and again at the shop windows with their levelled batteries of bottles, and had almost gained the end of the street, when his attention was arrested by a small shop at the corner, a vivid contrast to its neighbours. It was the typical shop of the poor quarter; a shop entirely English. Here were vended19 tobacco and sweets, cheap pipes of clay and cherry-wood; penny exercise-books and pen-holders jostled for precedence with comic songs, and story papers with appalling20 cuts showed that romance claimed its place beside the actualities of the evening paper, the bills of which fluttered at the doorway21. Dyson glanced up at the name above the door, and stood by the kennel22 trembling, for a sharp pang23, the pang of one who has made a discovery, had for a moment left him incapable24 of motion. The name over the shop was Travers. Dyson looked up again, this time at the corner of the wall above the lamppost, and read in white letters on a blue ground the words ‘Handel Street, W.C.’ and the legend was repeated in fainter letters just below. He gave a little sigh of satisfaction, and without more ado walked boldly into the shop, and stared full in the face of the fat man who was sitting behind the counter. The fellow rose to his feet, and returned the stare a little curiously25, and then began in stereotyped26 phrase —
‘What can I do for you, sir?’
Dyson enjoyed the situation and a dawning perplexity on the man’s face. He propped27 his stick carefully against the counter and leaning over it, said slowly and impressively —
‘Once around the grass, and twice around the lass, and thrice around the maple-tree.’
Dyson had calculated on his words producing an effect, and he was not disappointed. The vendor28 of the miscellanies gasped29, open-mouthed like a fish, and steadied himself against the counter. When he spoke30, after a short interval31, it was in a hoarse32 mutter, tremulous and unsteady.
‘Would you mind saying that again, sir? I didn’t quite catch it.’
‘My good man, I shall most certainly do nothing of the kind. You heard what I said perfectly33 well. You have got a clock in your shop, I see; an admirable time-keeper, I have no doubt. Well, I give you a minute by your own clock.’
The man looked about him in a perplexed34 indecision, and Dyson felt that it was time to be bold.
‘Look here, Travers, the time is nearly up. You have heard of Q, I think. Remember, I hold your life in my hands. Now!’
Dyson was shocked at the result of his own audacity35. The man shrank and shrivelled in terror, the sweat poured down a face of ashy white, and he held up his hands before him.
‘Mr. Davies, Mr. Davies, don’t say that — don’t for Heaven’s sake. I didn’t know you at first, I didn’t indeed. Good God! Mr. Davies, you wouldn’t ruin me? I’ll get it in a moment.’
‘You had better not lose any more time.’
The man slunk piteously out of his own shop, and went into a back parlour. Dyson heard his trembling fingers fumbling36 with a bunch of keys, and the creak of an opening box. He came back presently with a small package neatly37 tied up in brown paper in his hands, and still, full of terror, handed it to Dyson.
‘I’m glad to be rid of it,’ he said. ‘I’ll take no more jobs of this sort.’
Dyson took the parcel and his stick, and walked out of the shop with a nod, turning round as he passed the door. Travers had sunk into his seat, his face still white with terror, with one hand over his eyes, and Dyson speculated a good deal as he walked rapidly away as to what queer chords those could be on which he had played so roughly. He hailed the first hansom he could see and drove home, and when he had lit his hanging lamp, and laid his parcel on the table, he paused for a moment, wondering on what strange thing the lamplight would soon shine. He locked his door, and cut the strings38, and unfolded the paper layer after layer, and came at last to a small wooden box, simply but solidly made. There was no lock, and Dyson had simply to raise the lid, and as he did so he drew a long breath and started back. The lamp seemed to glimmer39 feebly like a single candle, but the whole room blazed with light — and not with light alone, but with a thousand colours, with all the glories of some painted window; and upon the walls of his room and on the familiar furniture, the glow flamed back and seemed to flow again to its source, the little wooden box. For there upon a bed of soft wool lay the most splendid jewel, a jewel such as Dyson had never dreamed of, and within it shone the blue of far skies, and the green of the sea by the shore, and the red of the ruby40, and deep violet rays, and in the middle of all it seemed aflame as if a fountain of fire rose up, and fell, and rose again with sparks like stars for drops. Dyson gave a long deep sigh, and dropped into his chair, and put his hands over his eyes to think. The jewel was like an opal, but from a long experience of the shop-windows he knew there was no such thing as an opal one-quarter or one-eighth of its size. He looked at the stone again, with a feeling that was almost awe41, and placed it gently on the table under the lamp, and watched the wonderful flame that shone and sparkled in its centre, and then turned to the box, curious to know whether it might contain other marvels42. He lifted the bed of wool on which the opal had reclined, and saw beneath, no more jewels, but a little old pocket-book, worn and shabby with use. Dyson opened it at the first leaf, and dropped the book again appalled43. He had read the name of the owner, neatly written in blue ink:
Steven Black, M.D.,
Oranmore,
Devon Road,
Harlesden.
It was several minutes before Dyson could bring himself to open the book a second time; he remembered the wretched exile in his garret; and his strange talk, and the memory too of the face he had seen at the window, and of what the specialist had said, surged up in his mind, and as he held his finger on the cover, he shivered, dreading44 what might be written within. When at last he held it in his hand, and turned the pages, he found that the first two leaves were blank, but the third was covered with clear, minute writing, and Dyson began to read with the light of the opal flaming in his eyes.
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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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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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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cipher
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| n.零；无影响力的人；密码 | |
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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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enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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verging
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| 接近，逼近（verge的现在分词形式） | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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contemptibly
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| adv.卑鄙地，下贱地 | |
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allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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vended
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| v.出售（尤指土地等财产）( vend的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在公共场所）贩卖；发表（意见，言论）；声明 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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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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vendor
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| n.卖主；小贩 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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30
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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31
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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42
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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43
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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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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