A sleek4 well-fed Swiss he was; one whose neutrality was publicly as impervious5 as the rocky barriers of his home land. A bland6 eye and a suave7 professional smile were the ever-present advertisements of urbanity on Joseph Almer's chubby8 countenance9. He spoke10 with an accent that might have got him into trouble with the English masters of the Rock had they not known that certain cantons in Switzerland occupy an unfortunate contiguity11 with Germany, and Almer, therefore, was hardly to be blamed for an accident of birth. From a window of his office, he looked out on crooked12 Waterport Street, where all the world of the Mediterranean13 shuffled14 by on shoes, slippers15 and bare feet. Just across his desk was the Hotel Splendide's reception room—a sad retreat, wherein a superannuated16 parlor17 set of worn red plush tried to give the lie to the reflection cast back at it by the dingy18 gold-framed mirror over the battered19 fireplace. Gaudy20 steamship21 posters and lithographs22 of the Sphinx and kindred tourists' delights were the walls' only decorations. Not even the potted palm, which is the hotel man's cure-all, was there to screen the interior of the office-reception room from the curious eyes of the street, just beyond swinging glass doors. Joseph Almer had taken poetic23 license24 with the word "splendide"; but in Gibraltar that is permissible25; necessary, in fact. Little there lives up to its reputation save the Rock itself.
It was four in the afternoon. The street outside steamed with heat, and the odors that make Gibraltar a lasting26 memory were at their prime of distillation27. The proprietor of the Splendide was nodding over his books. A light footfall on the boards beyond the desk roused him. A girl with two cigar boxes under her arm slipped, like a shadow, up to the desk. She was dressed in the bright colors of Spain, claret-colored skirt under a broad Romany sash, and with thin white waist, open at rounded throat. A cheap tortoise-shell comb held her coils of chestnut28 hair high on her head. Louisa of the Wilhelmstrasse; but not the same Louisa—the sophisticated Louisa of the Café Riche and the Winter Garden. A timid little cigar maker29 she was, here in Gibraltar.
"Louisa!" Almer's head bobbed up on a suddenly stiffened30 neck as he whispered her name. She set her boxes of cigars on the desk, opened them, and as she made gestures to point the worthiness31 of her wares32, she spoke swiftly, and in a half whisper:
"All is as we hoped, Almer. He comes on the Princess Mary—a cablegram from Koch just got through to-day. I wanted——"
"You mean——" Almer thrust his head forward in his eagerness, and his eyes were bright beads33.
"Captain Woodhouse—our Captain Woodhouse!" The girl's voice trembled in exultation34. "And his number—his Wilhelmstrasse number—is—listen carefully: Nineteen Thirty-two."
"Nineteen Thirty-two," Almer repeated, under his breath. Then aloud: "On the Princess Mary, you say?"
"Yes; she is already anchored in the straits. The tenders are coming ashore35. He will come here, for such were his directions in Alexandria." Louisa started to move toward the street door.
"But you," Almer stopped her; "the English are making a round-up of suspects on the Rock. They will ask questions—perhaps arrest——"
"Me? No, I think not. Just because I was away from Gibraltar for six weeks and have returned so recently is not enough to rouse suspicion. Haven't I been Josepha, the cigar girl, to every Tommy in the garrison36 for nearly a year? No—no, se?or; you are wrong. These are the purest cigars made south of Madrid. Indeed, se?or."
'Haven't I been Josepha for nearly a year?'
"Haven't I been Josepha for nearly a year?"
The girl had suddenly changed her tone to one of professional wheedling37, for she saw three entering the door. Almer lifted his voice angrily:
"Josepha, your mother is substituting with these cigars. Take them back and tell her if I catch her doing this again it means the cells for her."
The cigar girl bowed her head in simulated fright, sped past the incoming tourists, and lost herself in the shifting crowd on the street. Almer permitted himself to mutter angrily as he turned back to his books.
"You see, mother? See that hotel keeper lose his temper and tongue-lash that poor girl? Just what I tell you—these foreigners don't know how to be polite to ladies."
Henry J. Sherman—"yes, sir, of Kewanee, Illynoy"—mopped his bald pink dome38 and glared truculently39 at the insulting back of Joseph Almer. Mrs. Sherman, the lady of direct impulses who had contrived40 to stare Captain Woodhouse out of countenance in the Winter Garden not long back, cast herself despondently41 on the decrepit42 lounge and appeared to need little invitation to be precipitated43 into a crying spell. Her daughter Kitty, a winsome44 little slip, stood behind her, arms about the mother's neck, and her hands stroking the maternal45 cheeks.
"There—there, mother; everything'll come out right," Kitty vaguely46 assured. Mrs. Sherman, determined47 to have no eye for the cloud's silver lining48, rocked back and forth49 on the sofa and gave voice to her woe50:
"Oh, we'll never see Kewanee again. I know it! I know it! With everybody pushing and shoving us away from the steamers—everybody refusing to cash our checks, and all this fighting going on somewhere up among the Belgians——" The lady from Kewanee pulled out the stopper of her grief, and the tears came copiously51. Mr. Sherman, who had made an elaborate pretense52 of studying a steamer guide he found on the table, looked up hurriedly and blew his nose loudly in sympathy.
"Cheer up, mother. Even if this first trip of ours—this 'Grand Tower,' as the guide-books call it—has been sorta tough, we had one compensation anyway. We saw the Palace of Peace at the Hague before the war broke out. Guess they're leasing it for a skating rink now, though."
"How can you joke when we're in such a fix? He-Henry, you ne-never do take things seriously!"
"Why not joke, mother? Only thing you can do over here you don't have to pay for. Cheer up! There's the Saxonia due here from Naples some time soon. Maybe we can horn a way up her gangplank. Consul53 says——"
Mrs. Sherman looked up from her handkerchief with withering54 scorn.
"Tell me a way we can get aboard any ship without having the money to pay our passage. Tell me that, Henry Sherman!"
"Well, we've been broke before, mother," her spouse55 answered cheerily, rocking himself on heels and toes. "Remember when we were first married and had that little house on Liberty Street—the newest house in Kewanee it was; and we didn't have a hired girl, then, mother. But we come out all right, didn't we?" He patted his daughter's shoulder and winked56 ponderously57. "Come on, girls and boys, we'll go look over those Rock Chambers58 the English hollowed out. We can't sit in our room and mope all day."
The gentleman who knew Kewanee was making for the door when Almer, the suave, came out from behind his desk and stopped him with a warning hand.
"I am afraid the gentleman can not see the famous Rock Chambers," he purred. "This is war time—since yesterday, you know. Tourists are not allowed in the fortifications."
"Like to see who'd stop me!" Henry J. Sherman drew himself up to his full five feet seven and frowned at the Swiss. Almer rubbed his hands.
"A soldier—with a gun, most probably, sir."
Mrs. Sherman rose and hurried to her husband's side, in alarm.
"Henry—Henry! Don't you go and get arrested again! Remember that last time—the Frenchman at that Bordeaux town." Sherman allowed discretion59 to soften60 his valor61.
"Well, anyway"—he turned again to the proprietor—"they'll let us see that famous signal tower up on top of the Rock. Mother, they say from that tower up there, they can keep tabs on a ship sixty miles away. Fellow down at the consulate62 was telling me just this morning that's the king-pin of the whole works. Harbor's full of mines and things; electric switch in the signal tower. Press a switch up there, and everything in the harbor—Blam!" He shot his hands above his head to denote the cataclysm63. Almer smiled sardonically64 and drew the Illinois citizen to one side.
"I would give you a piece of advice," he said in a low voice. "It is——"
"Say, proprietor; you don't charge for advice, do you?" Sherman regarded him quizzically.
"It is this," Almer went on, unperturbed: "If I were you I would not talk much about the fortifications of the Rock. Even talk is—ah—dangerous if too much indulged."
"Huh! I guess you're right," said Sherman thoughtfully. "You see—we don't know much about diplomacy65 out where I come from. Though that ain't stopping any of the Democrats66 from going abroad in the Diplomatic Service as fast as Bryan'll take 'em."
Interruption came startlingly. A sergeant67 and three soldiers with guns swung through the open doors from Waterport Street. Gun butts68 struck the floor with a heavy thud. The sergeant stepped forward and saluted69 Almer with a businesslike sweep of hand to visor.
"See here, landlord!" the sergeant spoke up briskly. "Fritz, the barber, lives here, does he not?" Almer nodded. "We want him. Find him in the barber shop, eh?"
The sergeant turned and gave directions to the guard. They tramped through a swinging door by the side of the desk while the Shermans, parents and daughter alike, looked on, with round eyes. In less than a minute, the men in khaki returned, escorting a quaking man in white jacket. The barber, greatly flustered70, protested in English strongly reminiscent of his fatherland.
"Orders to take you, Fritz," the sergeant explained not unkindly.
"But I haf done nothing," the barber cried. "For ten years I haf shaved you. You know I am a harmless old German." The sergeant shrugged72.
"I fancy they think you are working for the Wilhelmstrasse, Fritz, and they want to have you where they can keep their eyes on you. Sorry, you know."
The free-born instincts of Henry J. Sherman would not be downed longer. He had witnessed the little tragedy of the German barber with growing ire, and now he stepped up to the sergeant truculently.
"Seems to me you're not giving Fritz here a square deal, if you want to know what I think," he blustered73. "Now, in my country——" The sergeant turned on him sharply.
"Who are you—and what are you doing in Gib?" he snapped. A moan from Mrs. Sherman, who threw herself in her daughter's arms.
'Who are you?' snapped the sergeant.
"Who are you?" snapped the sergeant.
"Kitty, your father's gone and got himself arrested again!"
"Who am I?" Sherman echoed with dignity. "My name, young fellow, is Henry J. Sherman, and I live in Kewanee, Illynoy. I'm an American citizen, and you can't——"
"Your passports—quick!" The sergeant held out his hand imperiously.
"Oh, that's all right, young fellow; I've got 'em, all right." Kewanee's leading light began to fumble74 in the spacious75 breast pocket of his long-tailed coat. As he groped through a packet of papers and letters, he kept up a running fire of comment and exposition:
"Had 'em this afternoon, all right. Here; no, that's my letter of credit. It would buy Main Street at home, but I can't get a ham sandwich on it here. This is—no; that's my only son's little girl, Emmaline, taken the day she was four years old. Fancy little girl, eh? Now, that's funny I can't—here's that list of geegaws I was to buy for my partner in the Empire Mills, flour and buckwheat. Guess he'll have to whistle for 'em. Now don't get impatient, young fellow. This—— Land's sakes, mother, that letter you gave me to mail, in Algy-kiras—— Ah, here you are, all proper and scientific enough as passports go, I guess."
The sergeant whisked the heavily creased76 document from Sherman's hand, scanned it hastily, and gave it back, without a word. The outraged77 American tucked up his chin and gave the sergeant glare for glare.
"If you ever come to Kewanee, young fellow," he snorted. "I'll be happy to show you our new jail."
"Close in! March!" commanded the sergeant. The guard surrounded the hapless barber and wheeled through the door, their guns hedging his white jacket about inexorably. Sherman's hands spread his coat tails wide apart, and he rocked back and forth on heels and toes, his eyes smoldering78.
"Come on, father"—Kitty had slipped her hand through her dad's arm, and was imparting direct strategy in a low voice—"we'll take mother down the street to look at the shops and make her forget our troubles. They've got some wonderful Moroccan bazaars79 in town; Baedeker says so."
"Shops, did you say?" Mrs. Sherman perked80 up at once, forgetting her grief under the superior lure81.
"Yes, mother. Come on, let's go down and look 'em over." Sherman's good humor was quite restored. He pinched Kitty's arm in compliment for her guile82. "Maybe they'll let us look at their stuff without charging anything; but we couldn't buy a postage stamp, remember."
They sailed out into the crowded street and lost themselves amid the scourings of Africa and south Europe. Almer was alone in the office.
The proprietor fidgeted. He walked to the door and looked down the street in the direction of the quays83. He pulled his watch from his pocket and compared it with the blue face of the Dutch clock on the wall. His pudgy hands clasped and unclasped themselves behind his back nervously84. An Arab hotel porter and runner at the docks came swinging through the front door with a small steamer trunk on his shoulders, and Almer started forward expectantly. Behind the porter came a tall well-knit man, dressed in quiet traveling suit—the Captain Woodhouse who had sailed from Alexandria as a passenger aboard the Princess Mary.
He paused for an instant as his eyes met those of the proprietor. Almer bowed and hastened behind the desk. Woodhouse stepped up to the register and scanned it casually85.
"A room, sir?" Almer held out a pen invitingly86.
"For the night, yes," Woodhouse answered shortly, and he signed the register. Almer's eyes followed the strokes of the pen eagerly.
"Ah, from Egypt, Captain? You were aboard the Princess Mary, then?"
"From Alexandria, yes. Show me my room, please. Beastly tired."
The Arab porter darted87 forward, and Woodhouse was turning to follow him when he nearly collided with a man just entering the street door. It was Mr. Billy Capper.
Both recoiled88 as their eyes met. Just the faintest flicker89 of surprise, instantly suppressed, tightened90 the muscles of the captain's jaws91. He murmured a "Beg pardon" and started to pass. Capper deliberately92 set himself in the other's path and, with a wry93 smile, held out his hand.
"Captain Woodhouse, I believe." Capper put a tang of sarcasm94, corroding95 as acid, into the words. He was still smiling. The other man drew back and eyed him coldly.
"I do not know you. Some mistake," Woodhouse said.
Almer was moving around from behind the desk with the soft tread of a cat, his eyes fixed96 on the hard-bitten face of Capper.
"Hah! Don't recognize the second-cabin passengers aboard the Princess Mary, eh?" Capper sneered97. "Little bit discriminating98 that way, eh? Well, my name's Capper—Mr. William Capper. Never heard the name—in Alexandria; what?"
"You are drunk. Stand aside!" Woodhouse spoke quietly; his face was very white and strained. Almer launched himself suddenly between the two and laid his hands roughly on Capper's thin shoulders.
"Out you go!" he choked in a thick guttural. "I'll have no loafer insulting guests in my house."
"Oh, you won't, won't you? But supposing I want to take a room here—pay you good English gold for it. You'll sing a different tune99, then."
"Before I throw you out, kindly71 leave my place." By a quick turn, Almer had Capper facing the door; his grip was iron. The smaller man tried to walk to the door with dignity. There he paused and looked back over his shoulder.
"Remember, Captain Woodhouse," he called back. "Remember the name against the time we'll meet again. Capper—Mr. William Capper."
Capper disappeared. Almer came back to begin profuse100 apologies to his guest. Woodhouse was coolly lighting101 a cigarette. Their eyes met.
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1
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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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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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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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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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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contiguity
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| n.邻近，接壤 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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Mediterranean
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| adj.地中海的；地中海沿岸的 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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superannuated
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| adj.老朽的，退休的；v.因落后于时代而废除，勒令退学 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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lithographs
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| n.平版印刷品( lithograph的名词复数 ) | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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permissible
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| adj.可允许的，许可的 | |
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lasting
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| adj.永久的，永恒的；vbl.持续，维持 | |
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distillation
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| n.蒸馏，蒸馏法 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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worthiness
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| 价值，值得 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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wheedling
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| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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truculently
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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despondently
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| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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winsome
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| n.迷人的，漂亮的 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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consul
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| n.领事；执政官 | |
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54
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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56
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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ponderously
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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cataclysm
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| n.洪水，剧变，大灾难 | |
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sardonically
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| adv.讽刺地，冷嘲地 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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74
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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79
bazaars
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| （东方国家的）市场( bazaar的名词复数 )； 义卖； 义卖市场； （出售花哨商品等的）小商品市场 | |
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80
perked
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| （使）活跃( perk的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）增值； 使更有趣 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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quays
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| 码头( quay的名词复数 ) | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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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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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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90
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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wry
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| adj.讽刺的；扭曲的 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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corroding
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| 使腐蚀，侵蚀( corrode的现在分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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98
discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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99
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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profuse
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| adj.很多的，大量的，极其丰富的 | |
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101
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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