What a triumph for Vyse!
The thought was intolerable, and Betton cursed his weakness in not having dismissed the fellow before such a possibility arose.
“If I tell him I’ve no use for him now, he’ll see straight through it, of course; — and then, hang it, he looks so poor!”
This consideration came after the other, but Betton, in rearranging them, put it first, because he thought it looked better there, and also because he immediately perceived its value in justifying2 a plan of action that was beginning to take shape in his mind.
“Poor devil, I’m damned if I don’t do it for him!” said Betton, sitting down at his desk.
Three or four days later he sent word to Vyse that he didn’t care to go over the letters any longer, and that they would once more be carried directly to the library.
The next time he lounged in, on his way to his morning ride, he found his secretary’s pen in active motion.
“A lot to-day,” Vyse told him cheerfully.
His tone irritated Betton: it had the inane3 optimism of the physician reassuring4 a discouraged patient.
“Oh, Lord — I thought it was almost over,” groaned7 the novelist.
“No: they’ve just got their second wind. Here’s one from a Chicago publisher — never heard the name — offering you thirty per cent. on your next novel, with an advance royalty8 of twenty thousand. And here’s a chap who wants to syndicate it for a bunch of Sunday papers: big offer, too. That’s from Ann Arbor9. And this — oh, this one’s funny!”
He held up a small scented10 sheet to Betton, who made no movement to receive it.
“Funny? Why’s it funny?” he growled11.
“Well, it’s from a girl — a lady — and she thinks she’s the only person who understands ‘Abundance’ — has the clue to it. Says she’s never seen a book so misrepresented by the critics — ”
“Ha, ha! That is good!” Betton agreed with too loud a laugh.
“This one’s from a lady, too — married woman. Says she’s misunderstood, and would like to correspond.”
“Oh, Lord,” said Betton. — “What are you looking at?” he added sharply, as Vyse continued to bend his blinking gaze on the letters.
“I was only thinking I’d never seen such short letters from women. Neither one fills the first page.”
“Well, what of that?” queried12 Betton.
Vyse reflected. “I’d like to meet a woman like that,” he said wearily; and Betton laughed again.
The letters continued to pour in, and there could be no farther question of dispensing13 with Vyse’s services. But one morning, about three weeks later, the latter asked for a word with his employer, and Betton, on entering the library, found his secretary with half a dozen documents spread out before him.
“What’s up?” queried Betton, with a touch of impatience14.
Vyse was attentively15 scanning the outspread letters.
“I don’t know: can’t make out.” His voice had a faint note of embarrassment16. “Do you remember a note signed Hester Macklin that came three or four weeks ago? Married — misunderstood — Western army post — wanted to correspond?”
Betton seemed to grope among his memories; then he assented17 vaguely18.
“A short note,” Vyse went on: “the whole story in half a page. The shortness struck me so much — and the directness — that I wrote her: wrote in my own name, I mean.”
“In your own name?” Betton stood amazed; then he broke into a groan6.
“Good Lord, Vyse — you’re incorrigible19!”
The secretary pulled his thin moustache with a nervous laugh. “If you mean I’m an ass5, you’re right. Look here.” He held out an envelope stamped with the words: “Dead Letter Office.” “My effusion has come back to me marked ‘unknown.’ There’s no such person at the address she gave you.”
Betton seemed for an instant to share his secretary’s embarrassment; then he burst into an uproarious laugh.
“Hoax, was it? That’s rough on you, old fellow!”
Vyse shrugged20 his shoulders. “Yes; but the interesting question is — why on earth didn’t your answer come back, too?”
“My answer?”
“The official one — the one I wrote in your name. If she’s unknown, what’s become of that?”
Betton stared at him with eyes wrinkled by amusement. “Perhaps she hadn’t disappeared then.”
Vyse disregarded the conjecture21. “Look here — I believe all these letters are a hoax,” he broke out.
Betton stared at him with a face that turned slowly red and angry. “What are you talking about? All what letters?”
“These I’ve spread out here: I’ve been comparing them. And I believe they’re all written by one man.”
Burton’s redness turned to a purple that made his ruddy moustache seem pale. “What the devil are you driving at?” he asked.
“Well, just look at it,” Vyse persisted, still bent22 above the letters. “I’ve been studying them carefully — those that have come within the last two or three weeks — and there’s a queer likeness23 in the writing of some of them. The g’s are all like corkscrews. And the same phrases keep recurring24 — the Ann Arbor news-agent uses the same expressions as the President of the Girls’ College at Euphorbia, Maine.”
Betton laughed. “Aren’t the critics always groaning25 over the shrinkage of the national vocabulary? Of course we all use the same expressions.”
“Yes,” said Vyse obstinately26. “But how about using the same g’s?”
Betton laughed again, but Vyse continued without heeding27 him: “Look here, Betton — could Strett have written them?”
“Strett?” Betton roared. “ Strett?” He threw himself into his arm-chair to shake out his mirth at greater ease.
“I’ll tell you why. Strett always posts all my answers. He comes in for them every day before I leave. He posted the letter to the misunderstood party — the letter from you that the Dead Letter Office didn’t return. I posted my own letter to her; and that came back.”
A measurable silence followed the emission28 of this ingenious conjecture; then Betton observed with gentle irony29: “Extremely neat. And of course it’s no business of yours to supply any valid30 motive31 for this remarkable32 attention on my valet’s part.”
Vyse cast on him a slanting33 glance.
“If you’ve found that human conduct’s generally based on valid motives34 —!”
“Well, outside of mad-houses it’s supposed to be not quite incalculable.”
Vyse had an odd smile under his thin moustache. “Every house is a mad-house at some time or another.”
Betton rose with a careless shake of the shoulders. “This one will be if I talk to you much longer,” he said, moving away with a laugh.
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收听单词发音
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1
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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2
justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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3
inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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4
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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6
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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7
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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8
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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arbor
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| n.凉亭；树木 | |
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10
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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11
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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12
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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13
dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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14
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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15
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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16
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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17
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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19
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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20
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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21
conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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22
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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23
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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24
recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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25
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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26
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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27
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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28
emission
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| n.发出物，散发物；发出，散发 | |
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29
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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30
valid
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| adj.有确实根据的；有效的；正当的，合法的 | |
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31
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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32
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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33
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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34
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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