"In the year 1571," it recorded, "the notorious Trois Echelles was executed in the Place de Grève. He confessed before the king, Charles IX.... that he performed marvels1.... Admiral de Coligny, who also was present, recollected2 ... the death of two gentlemen.... He added that they were found black and swollen3."
He turned over the page, with a hand none too steady.
"The famous Maréchal d'Ancre, Concini Concini," he read, "was killed by a pistol shot on the drawbridge of the Louvre by Vitry, Captain of the Bodyguard4, on the 24th of April, 1617.... It was proved that the Maréchal and his wife made use of wax images, which they kept in coffins5...."
Cairn shut the book hastily and began to pace the room again.
He stepped to a bookshelf and began to look for a book which, so far as his slight knowledge of the subject bore him, would possibly throw light upon the darkness. But he failed to find it. Despite the heat of the weather, the library seemed to have grown chilly8. He pressed the bell.
"Marston," he said to the man who presently came, "you must be very tired, but Dr. Cairn will be here
[16]
within an hour. Tell him that I have gone to Sir Michael Ferrara's."
"But it's after twelve o'clock, sir!"
"I know it is; nevertheless I am going."
"Very good, sir. You will wait there for the Doctor?"
"Exactly, Marston. Good-night!"
"Good-night, sir."
Robert Cairn went out into Half-Moon Street. The night was perfect, and the cloudless sky lavishly9 gemmed10 with stars. He walked on heedlessly, scarce noting in which direction. An awful conviction was with him, growing stronger each moment, that some mysterious menace, some danger unclassifiable, threatened Myra Duquesne. What did he suspect? He could give it no name. How should he act? He had no idea.
Sir Elwin Groves11, whom he had seen that evening, had hinted broadly at mental trouble as the solution of Sir Michael Ferrara's peculiar12 symptoms. Although Sir Michael had had certain transactions with his solicitor13 during the early morning, he had apparently14 forgotten all about the matter, according to the celebrated15 physician.
The inquiry17 of a taxi driver interrupted Cairn's meditations18. He entered the vehicle, giving Sir Michael Ferrara's address.
His thoughts persistently19 turned to Myra Duquesne, who at that moment would be lying listening for the slightest sound from the sick-room; who would be fighting down fear, that she might do her duty to her guardian—fear of the waving phantom20 hands. The cab sped through the almost empty streets, and at last, rounding a corner, rolled up the tree-lined avenue, past three or four houses lighted only by the glitter of the moon, and came to a stop before that of Sir Michael Ferrara.
Lights shone from the many windows. The front door was open, and light streamed out into the porch.
"My God!" cried Cairn, leaping from the cab. "My God! what has happened?"
A thousand fears, a thousand reproaches, flooded his
[17]
brain with frenzy21. He went racing22 up to the steps and almost threw himself upon the man who stood half-dressed in the doorway23.
"Sir Michael, sir," answered the man. "I thought"—his voice broke—"you were the doctor, sir?"
"Miss Myra—"
"She fainted away, sir. Mrs. Hume is with her in the library, now."
Cairn thrust past the servant and ran into the library. The housekeeper26 and a trembling maid were bending over Myra Duquesne, who lay fully27 dressed, white and still, upon a Chesterfield. Cairn unceremoniously grasped her wrist, dropped upon his knees and placed his ear to the still breast.
"Thank God!" he said. "It is only a swoon. Look after her, Mrs. Hume."
The housekeeper, with set face, lowered her head, but did not trust herself to speak. Cairn went out into the hall and tapped Felton on the shoulder. The man turned with a great start.
"What happened?" he demanded. "Is Sir Michael—?"
Felton nodded.
"Five minutes before you came, sir." His voice was hoarse25 with emotion. "Miss Myra came out of her room. She thought someone called her. She rapped on Mrs. Hume's door, and Mrs. Hume, who was just retiring, opened it. She also thought she had heard someone calling Miss Myra out on the stairhead."
"Well?"
"There was no one there, sir. Everyone was in bed; I was just undressing, myself. But there was a sort of faint perfume—something like a church, only disgusting, sir—"
"How—disgusting! Did you smell it?"
"No, sir, never. Mrs. Hume and Miss Myra have noticed it in the house on other nights, and one of the maids, too. It was very strong, I'm told, last night. Well, sir, as they stood by the door they heard a horrid28
[18]
kind of choking scream. They both rushed to Sir Michael's room, and—"
"Yes, yes?"
"He was lying half out of bed, sir—"
"Dead?"
"Seemed like he'd been strangled, they told me, and—"
"Who is with him now?"
The man grew even paler.
"No one, Mr. Cairn, sir. Miss Myra screamed out that there were two hands just unfastening from his throat as she and Mrs. Hume got to the door, and there was no living soul in the room, sir. I might as well out with it! We're all afraid to go in!"
Cairn turned and ran up the stairs. The upper landing was in darkness and the door of the room which he knew to be Sir Michael's stood wide open. As he entered, a faint scent29 came to his nostrils30. It brought him up short at the threshold, with a chill of supernatural dread31.
The bed was placed between the windows, and one curtain had been pulled aside, admitting a flood, of moonlight. Cairn remembered that Myra had mentioned this circumstance in connection with the disturbance32 of the previous night.
"Who, in God's name, opened that curtain!" he muttered.
Fully in the cold white light lay Sir Michael Ferrara, his silver hair gleaming and his strong, angular face upturned to the intruding33 rays. His glazed34 eyes were starting from their sockets35; his face was nearly black; and his fingers were clutching the sheets in a death grip. Cairn had need of all his courage to touch him.
He was quite dead.
Someone was running up the stairs. Cairn turned, half dazed, anticipating the entrance of a local medical man. Into the room ran his father, switching on the light as he did so. A greyish tinge36 showed through his ruddy complexion37. He scarcely noticed his son.
"Ferrara!" he cried, coming up to the bed. "Ferrara!"
He dropped on his knees beside the dead man.
[19]
"Ferrara, old fellow—"
In the hall stood Felton and some other servants.
"Miss Duquesne?"
"She has recovered, sir. Mrs. Hume has taken her to another bedroom."
Cairn hesitated, then walked into the deserted39 library, where a light was burning. He began to pace up and down, clenching40 and unclenching his fists. Presently Felton knocked and entered. Clearly the man was glad of the chance to talk to someone.
"Mr. Antony has been 'phoned at Oxford41, sir. I thought you might like to know. He is motoring down, sir, and will be here at four o'clock."
"Thank you," said Cairn shortly.
Ten minutes later his father joined him. He was a slim, well-preserved man, alert-eyed and active, yet he had aged42 five years in his son's eyes. His face was unusually pale, but he exhibited no other signs of emotion.
Robert Cairn leant back against a bookshelf.
"I have something to tell you, sir, and something to ask you."
"Tell your story, first; then ask your question."
"My story begins in a Thames backwater—"
Dr. Cairn stared, squaring his jaw44, but his son proceeded to relate, with some detail, the circumstances attendant upon the death of the king-swan. He went on to recount what took place in Antony Ferrara's rooms, and at the point where something had been taken from the table and thrown in the fire—
"Stop!" said Dr. Cairn. "What did he throw in the fire?"
"I cannot swear to it, sir—"
"Never mind. What do you think he threw in the fire?"
[20]
"A little image, of wax or something similar—an image of—a swan."
At that, despite his self-control, Dr. Cairn became so pale that his son leapt forward.
"All right, Rob," his father waved him away, and turning, walked slowly down the room.
"Go on," he said, rather huskily.
Robert Cairn continued his story up to the time that he visited the hospital where the dead girl lay.
"You can swear that she was the original of the photograph in Antony's rooms and the same who was waiting at the foot of the stair?"
"I can, sir."
"Go on."
Again the younger man resumed his story, relating what he had learnt from Myra Duquesne; what she had told him about the phantom hands; what Felton had told him about the strange perfume perceptible in the house.
"The ring," interrupted Dr. Cairn—"she would recognise it again?"
"She says so."
"Anything else?"
"Only that if some of your books are to be believed, sir, Trois Echelle, D'Ancre and others have gone to the stake for such things in a less enlightened age!"
"Less enlightened, boy!" Dr. Cairn turned his blazing eyes upon him. "More enlightened where the powers of hell were concerned!"
"Then you think—"
"Think! Have I spent half my life in such studies in vain? Did I labour with poor Michael Ferrara in Egypt and learn nothing? Just God! what an end to his labour! What a reward for mine!"
He buried his face in quivering hands.
"I cannot tell exactly what you mean by that, sir," said Robert Cairn; "but it brings me to my question."
Dr. Cairn did not speak, did not move.
"Who is Antony Ferrara?"
The doctor looked up at that; and it was a haggard face he raised from his hands.
[21]
"You have tried to ask me that before."
"Yet I can give you none, Rob."
"In a degree, yes. But the real reason is this—I don't know."
"You don't know!"
"I have said so."
"Good God, sir, you amaze me! I have always felt certain that he was really no Ferrara, but an adopted son; yet it had never entered my mind that you were ignorant of his origin."
"You have not studied the subjects which I have studied; nor do I wish that you should; therefore it is impossible, at any rate now, to pursue that matter further. But I may perhaps supplement your researches into the history of Trois Echelles and Concini Concini. I believe you told me that you were looking in my library for some work which you failed to find?"
"What do you know of it?"
"I once saw a copy in Antony Ferrara's rooms."
Dr. Cairn started slightly.
"Indeed. It happens that my copy is here; I lent it quite recently to—Sir Michael. It is probably somewhere on the shelves."
He turned on more lights and began to scan the rows of books. Presently—
"Here it is," he said, and took down and opened the book on the table. "This passage may interest you." He laid his finger upon it.
"Hai, the evil man, was a shepherd. He had said: 'O, that I might have a book of spells that would give me resistless power!' He obtained a book of the Formulas.... By the divine powers of these he enchanted50 men. He obtained a deep vault51 furnished with implements53. He made waxen images of men, and love-charms.
[22]
And then he perpetrated all the horrors that his heart conceived."
"Flinders Petrie," said Dr. Cairn, "mentions the Book of Thoth as another magical work conferring similar powers."
"I thought so—once!" replied Dr. Cairn. "But I have lived to know that Egyptian magic was a real and a potent56 force. A great part of it was no more than a kind of hypnotism, but there were other branches. Our most learned modern works are as children's nursery rhymes beside such a writing as the Egyptian Ritual of the Dead! God forgive me! What have I done!"
"You cannot reproach yourself in any way, sir!"
"Can I not?" said Dr. Cairn hoarsely. "Ah, Rob, you don't know!"
There came a rap on the door, and a local practitioner57 entered.
"This is a singular case, Dr. Cairn," he began diffidently. "An autopsy—"
"Nonsense!" cried Dr. Cairn. "Sir Elwin Groves had foreseen it—so had I!"
"But there are distinct marks of pressure on either side of the windpipe—"
"Certainly. These marks are not uncommon58 in such cases. Sir Michael had resided in the East and had contracted a form of plague. Virtually he died from it. The thing is highly contagious59, and it is almost impossible to rid the system of it. A girl died in one of the hospitals this week, having identical marks on the throat." He turned to his son. "You saw her, Rob?"
Robert Cairn nodded, and finally the local man withdrew, highly mystified, but unable to contradict so celebrated a physician as Dr. Bruce Cairn.
The latter seated himself in an armchair, and rested his chin in the palm of his left hand. Robert Cairn paced restlessly about the library. Both were waiting, expectantly. At half-past two Felton brought in a
[23]
tray of refreshments60, but neither of the men attempted to avail themselves of the hospitality.
"Miss Duquesne?" asked the younger.
"She has just gone to sleep, sir."
"Good," muttered Dr. Cairn. "Blessed is youth."
Silence fell again, upon the man's departure, to be broken but rarely, despite the tumultuous thoughts of those two minds, until, at about a quarter to three, the faint sound of a throbbing62 motor brought Dr. Cairn sharply to his feet. He looked towards the window. Dawn was breaking. The car came roaring along the avenue and stopped outside the house.
Dr. Cairn and his son glanced at one another. A brief tumult61 and hurried exchange of words sounded in the hall; footsteps were heard ascending63 the stairs, then came silence. The two stood side by side in front of the empty hearth64, a haggard pair, fitly set in that desolate65 room, with the yellowing rays of the lamps shrinking before the first spears of dawn.
Then, without warning, the door opened slowly and deliberately66, and Antony Ferrara came in.
His face was expressionless, ivory; his red lips were firm, and he drooped67 his head. But the long black eyes glinted and gleamed as if they reflected the glow from a furnace. He wore a motor coat lined with leopard68 skin and he was pulling off his heavy gloves.
"It is good of you to have waited, Doctor," he said in his huskily musical voice—"you too, Cairn."
He advanced a few steps into the room. Cairn was conscious of a kind of fear, but uppermost came a desire to pick up some heavy implement52 and crush this evilly effeminate thing with the serpent eyes. Then he found himself speaking; the words seemed to be forced from his throat.
"Antony Ferrara," he said, "have you read the Harris Papyrus?"
Ferrara dropped his glove, stooped and recovered it, and smiled faintly.
"No," he replied. "Have you?" His eyes were nearly closed, mere luminous69 slits70. "But surely," he continued, "this is no time, Cairn, to discuss books?
[24]
As my poor father's heir, and therefore your host, I beg of you to partake—"
A faint sound made him turn. Just within the door, where the light from the reddening library windows touched her as if with sanctity, stood Myra Duquesne, in her night robe, her hair unbound and her little bare feet gleaming whitely upon the red carpet. Her eyes were wide open, vacant of expression, but set upon Antony Ferrara's ungloved left hand.
Ferrara turned slowly to face her, until his back was towards the two men in the library. She began to speak, in a toneless, unemotional voice, raising her finger and pointing at a ring which Ferrara wore.
"I know you now," she said; "I know you, son of an evil woman, for you wear her ring, the sacred ring of Thoth. You have stained that ring with blood, as she stained it—with the blood of those who loved and trusted you. I could name you, but my lips are sealed—I could name you, brood of a witch, murderer, for I know you now."
Dispassionately, mechanically, she delivered her strange indictment71. Over her shoulder appeared the anxious face of Mrs. Hume, finger to lip.
"My God!" muttered Cairn. "My God! What—"
"S—sh!" his father grasped his arm. "She is asleep!"
Myra Duquesne turned and quitted the room, Mrs. Hume hovering72 anxiously about her. Antony Ferrara faced around; his mouth was oddly twisted.
"She is troubled with strange dreams," he said, very huskily.
"Clairvoyant73 dreams!" Dr. Cairn addressed him for the first time. "Do not glare at me in that way, for it may be that I know you, too! Come, Rob."
"But Myra—"
"Nothing in this house can injure Myra," he replied quietly; "for Good is higher than Evil. For the present we can only go."
Antony Ferrara stood aside, as the two walked out of the library.
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收听单词发音
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1
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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recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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4
bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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coffins
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| n.棺材( coffin的名词复数 )；使某人早亡[死，完蛋，垮台等]之物 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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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
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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9
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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gemmed
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| 点缀（gem的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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12
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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13
solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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15
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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16
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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17
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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18
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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19
persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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21
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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31
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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intruding
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| v.侵入，侵扰，打扰( intrude的现在分词)；把…强加于 | |
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34
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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35
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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37
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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38
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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39
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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40
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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41
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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42
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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44
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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45
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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46
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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47
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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48
papyrus
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| n.古以纸草制成之纸 | |
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49
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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50
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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52
implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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53
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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54
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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55
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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56
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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57
practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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60
refreshments
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| n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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61
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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62
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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63
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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64
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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65
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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66
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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67
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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69
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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70
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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71
indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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72
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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73
clairvoyant
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| adj.有预见的；n.有预见的人 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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