Mr. Symington’s countenance2 was sickly; his voice was full of cold and bitter disgust.
The wretched Corrie had come to the end of his sorry confession3, not without interruptions mainly of an angry, abusive nature. And now the verdict—“You bungler!” Somehow it stung most of all.
“It’s easy to call names,” he rejoined resentfully. “I’m no’ the only bungler. If ever a man let a girl slip through his fingers it was you. Ye should ha’ had her easy that night—while she was terrified—after she had taken the post office money—”
“I don’t believe she took any money—”
“Then how could she pay her fare to London?”
“Probably the postman lent—gave—her it.”
The postmaster forced a grin. “Well, ye can p. 152believe that if ye like. And then,” he went on quickly, “ye had your chance in the train—and lost it!”
“I’ve told you why.”
“Well, if ye had got the girl, the letter wouldna ha’ mattered so much, for ye would ha’ got the Zeniths wi’ her. So ye can blame yourself as well as me.”
There was a silence. Corrie sat glowering5 at the floor and plucking at his lower lip. Symington scowled6 openly at him. They were in the privacy of the parlour. It was about nine o’clock and growing dark.
Suddenly Symington emitted a short, ugly laugh. “So this is what you brought me back from London for! Well, I don’t wonder at your being afraid. Between embezzlement7 and attempted murder—”
“Whisht, man, for God’s sake!”
“It may be murder itself yet—”
“Be quiet, damn ye!”
“Look here, Corrie; what’ll you do if Sam recovers?”
“He canna recover—I heard it an hour before ye arrived. But supposing he does recover, what can he do without the letter?”
p. 153“Aye; I’m sure—and I’m almost sure young Hayward didna’ recognize me.”
“Otherwise you wouldna be sitting here now—eh?”
“Let that pass,” said Corrie, restraining his temper. “The point is—the letter.”
“But I don’t happen to be interested in the letter.”
“Ye’ve got to be interested in it! If I canna get back the letter, I’ll need to get back the shares.”
“I’m afraid you won’t get back the shares.”
Corrie exploded. “Would ye ruin me—send me to the jail?”
Symington ignored the outburst. “I bought the shares from you,” he said calmly, “and paid for them. I have your acknowledgment. I may say that I intend to hold them till September, when a first dividend9 will be declared, which, I am informed, will send them to ten pounds—”
“Just so. But rather than risk being involved in your dirty affairs, I’ll sell the lot to-morrow for what I can get and—er—emigrate.”
“Ye swine!—but ye’ll ha’ the police after ye!”
“Why?”
“I might have the lawyers after me,” Symington admitted easily, “but the lawyers always take a —— of a time to get to work, and I generally travel quickly. However, I think you’re making too much of your own danger. Kitty is not likely to attempt to prosecute12 you, since you can prove that she tampered13 with the post office money.” He peered through the dusk at the other’s face. “Isn’t that so?”
After a little while Symington said: “Why don’t you make Kitty come back here?”
Symington took out the telegram he had found on his arrival.
“Is that her address?” cried the other.
“It may be. It is certainly the address of the lady who took charge of her on the train, and now that I’ve got it, I’ll soon find where Kitty is.”
“How did ye get it?”
“Never mind. But it might be worth your while to send a wire, first thing in the morning p. 155to Kitty, at this address. Just say: ‘Serious for you if not home within twenty-four hours’ . . . How’s that?”
“Maybe she hasn’t. It’s a chance anyway—your only chance, perhaps. Will you wire—put it stronger if you like—in the morning?”
“I—I tell ye, she wouldna come.”
Symington got to his feet. “I believe,” he said slowly, “it was a filthy16 lie about the post office money.”
Corrie shrank in his chair. He was at the end of his endurance. “I did it,” he stammered17 “to help you.”
“Did what?”
“P—put the five-pun’ note in her drawer.”
“God damn you!” cried Symington, raising his fist. “You did it to help yourself to half the—” He stopped short with a stifled18 curse.
Miss Corrie came in with a lighted lamp, which she set on the table.
“Are ye quarrelling?” she quavered. She seemed to have grown ten years older during the past forty-eight hours.
p. 156“I’m going back to London to-morrow,” he said harshly, “and I don’t want any more wires from you.” Thereupon he went out.
Rachel turned to her brother.
“John, John,” she cried piteously, “will he no’ help ye?”
The unhappy man threw out his arms, let them fall on the edge of the table and bowed his face on them. Helplessly his sister regarded him, then turned and left him to himself. She went to her room and fell on her knees. Had Kitty appeared in that hour, one may presume that she would have been offered the miserable20 confession of a miserable sinner. But there is an old saying concerning the devil when he was sick. . . .
* * * * *
Shortly, after eight the following morning, Colin, carrying a light overcoat and a small suitcase, entered the post office. The dingy21 place was flooded with sunlight; even the passage to the shop was filled with it. The counter was unattended. Upon it Colin laid the suitcase and coat. Raising the lid he disclosed among sundry22 articles pertaining23 to a lengthy24 night journey a little box camera. For a moment or two he fingered it somewhat nervously25. Then p. 157at the back—i.e., the bottom—of the case he drew aside a strip of leather, uncovering a small round hole against which he fitted the eye of the camera. He let down the lid so far: it was kept from closing by his left hand which remained inside. Presently, drawing a long breath, he rapped smartly on the counter.
Almost immediately Miss Corrie appeared in the short passage. At the sight of him she seemed to stumble, and as she recovered herself he said—
“Can I see Mr. Corrie for a moment?”
Without answering she turned and went back. It seemed many minutes before Corrie himself appeared. Colin thought he had never seen a more ghastly-looking creature. The countenance was unreadable, but the man’s soul was torn between terror and hope.
As he stepped into the office there was a scarcely audible click from the suit-case.
“Morning,” he said huskily, and ran his tongue over his lips.
“Morning, Mr. Corrie,” replied Colin, fairly cheerfully. He raised the lid and brought forth26 a sealed envelope without superscription. He handed it over the counter, saying, “You might look and see if the paper enclosed belongs to you.”
p. 158Corrie took it with shaking fingers and moved back from the counter. He cleared his throat. “Ye mean me to open it, Mr. Hayward?”
“Certainly,” Colin could have pitied the man as he turned a second film silently into position.
The envelope was very firmly gummed, and Corrie’s fingers fumbled27 in a fashion painful to witness. But at last it was torn open—the precious letter was in his hand. He looked as if he were going to cry. Now the click might have been ten times louder without his hearing it. He was dazed with relief.
Colin closed the case, feeling almost guilty.
“Is it yours, Mr. Corrie?”
Corrie seemed to pull himself together. “Aye, it’s mine, sure enough, and—and I’m obliged to ye, Mr. Hayward.” The old cunning came to his aid. “I lost it more’n a week ago. Might I ask where ye found it?”
“On the grass across the road from the postman’s house, while it was burning,” answered Colin, as naturally as he could.
“Well, well! That’s mysterious, for it’s more’n a month since I was that road, except the morning after the fire. Somebody mun ha’ found it and lost it again. Well, once more, I’m obliged p. 159to ye, though the paper’s no’ o’ any great consequence. It was written by my poor brother-in-law when he wasna quite right in his head. Still, I’m glad to have it, Mr. Hayward, thank ye.”
“I should explain,” said Colin, concealing28 with an effort his disgust, “that after I picked it up I forgot about it until I was in the train for London. Good morning, Mr. Corrie.” He caught up case and coat, and hurried out before Corrie could frame another sentence.
“Rachel!—here, quick!”
She came in haste, almost weeping.
“Oh, John, John, ha’ ye got it back?”
“Aye,” he answered shortly, with something of his old truculence29 of tone.
“Oh, God be thanked!” she murmured.
“Ye’ll ha’ to manage by yourself for an hour,” he said rapidly, “I mun hurry to White Farm—”
“But now, John, ye’ll tell Kitty the truth,” she cried excitedly. “I got her address this morning. I can trust ye wi’ it now, for ye’re a changed man, as I’m a changed woman—”
“What’s the address?”
“366 Long Acre, London—care o’ Miss Risk.”
“I’ll mind it. Well, I mun run, or I’ll miss p. 160Symington. I’ll master him yet—aye, I will that, by God!”
“But ye—ye’ll tell Kitty the truth, John—ye’ll write to her this very day—will ye no’?” she caught his arm.
“Pah!” he shook her off. “Let me gang, woman! Well, well. I’ll see. I’ll see.”
Alone—“God!” she whispered, “is he no’ a changed man after all?”
Symington was at breakfast when Corrie broke in upon him.
“What the devil do you want?” was the spurious farmer’s greeting.
“I’ve got back the letter?”
“Sit down and don’t make a scene,” said Symington, after a moment. “Tell me about it quietly. And look here, Corrie; I was a bit rough on you last night—”
“Ye were that! But now it’s my turn—”
“One moment. I had good cause for my annoyance—you must admit that much. But after I left you, I thought it over in cold blood, and came to the only conclusion possible. You and I must continue to work together; we must stick to the original bargain—”
“Ye’ll mean that ye’ll try to marry her yet and pay me half the profits—”
p. 161“Exactly! Now tell me about the letter.”
Under this coolness Corrie’s violence collapsed30. He seated himself, saying: “But can I trust ye to keep a’ I said last night secret?”
“We have got to trust each other, Corrie. Let us forget about last night. . . . Now go ahead.”
“It’s a puzzler,” he remarked. “I should say that Hayward returned the letter for one of two reasons: either he hadn’t read it through, or else he wants to stand well with you on account of Kitty. What do you think?”
Corrie shook his head. “I don’t know what to think, but ’twill do neither of us good if he comes across her in London—”
“How do you know he’s going back there?”
“I canna’ say for certain, but I’ve heard o’ talk among the servants that there was trouble with his father the other night.”
“Possible,” Symington grinned and became grave. “Then what’s he doing back here?”
“Ye beat me there. But if ye want advice, it’s just this: get a hold o’ the girl without delay. That’s the only way now to make absolute sure p. 162o’ the Zeniths. I can give ye her address for certain.”
“Well, I’m hanged!”
“My sister got it this morning. Write it down, will ye?”
“It’s just as I thought,” said Symington, a moment later, “but I’m obliged to you, Corrie. And, as you say, it’s the only way to make sure of the Zeniths without risking trouble. I’ll go south to-night.”
“How are ye going to get a hold o’ her? Ye’ve got to mind she’s wi’ friends—at least I suppose so.”
“You can leave that to me. Kitty won’t escape me a third time! I wonder if she’s much in love with that fellow Hayward. Well, if she is, I’ll make use of the fact.”
“I’d give something to ha’ him out o’ the road,” said Corrie, with sudden viciousness. “I’ve been thinkin’ he maybe kens32 more’n he’s shown. If Sam was to get better after a’—”
“Don’t start brooding on that!” said Symington shortly. “By the way, have you destroyed the letter?”
“No, I’m going to keep it—safely this time.”
“Why on earth—”
Corrie glared at his fellow-conspirator. “I p. 163intend to trust ye, Symington,” he said slowly. “Same time, I warn ye, if ye try to get the better o’ me, I’ll take the risk o’ handing the letter to Kitty Carstairs and telling her the whole cursed story.”
For an instant Symington’s gaze was murderous. Then he laughed. “Canny33 man, canny man!” he sneered34. “If Kitty would forgive you—well, let that pass. Meantime, I want the loan of twenty pounds. There ought to have been a registered letter for me this morning. If it comes to-morrow, you must re-direct it to London. Now I’ll walk down to the shop with you and get the cash.”
“All right,” said Corrie reluctantly, after a pause. “But ye mun be careful what ye say before Rachel. I doubt if she’s on our side now. Let her think ye’re considering about giving me back the Zeniths for the girl. D’ye see?”
“Very well. Now that she’s got Kitty’s address she might easily make trouble.”
“I wish,” said Corrie, as they went down the road, “I wish ye would tell me how ye’re going to get a hold o’ her. Ha’ ye got a plan?”
“Perhaps I have.” Symington smiled darkly, and changed the subject.
* * * * *
p. 164Meanwhile Colin was seated in an exceedingly slow train on his way to the hospital where Sam the postman lay.
Afterwards he would go on to Glasgow, and thence hack35 to London by a line that did not pass near Dunford. In this he was simply obeying the instructions of Mr. Risk.
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1
Bungler
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| n.笨拙者，经验不够的人 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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5
glowering
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| v.怒视( glower的现在分词 ) | |
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6
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
embezzlement
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| n.盗用，贪污 | |
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8
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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9
dividend
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| n.红利，股息；回报，效益 | |
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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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writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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13
tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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14
toils
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| 网 | |
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15
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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16
filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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28
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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truculence
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| n.凶猛，粗暴 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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32
kens
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| vt.知道（ken的第三人称单数形式） | |
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33
canny
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| adj.谨慎的，节俭的 | |
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34
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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