I reached the Albany as the clock was striking eight. Lumley's rooms were on the first floor, and I was evidently expected, for the porter himself conducted me to them and waited by me till the door was opened by a man-servant.
You know those rococo4, late Georgian Albany rooms, large, square, clumsily corniced. Lumley's was lined with books, which I saw at a glance were of a different type from those in his working library at his country house. This was the collection of a bibliophile5, and in the light of the summer evening the rows of tall volumes in vellum and morocco lined the walls like some rich tapestry6.
The valet retired7 and shut the door, and presently from a little inner chamber8 came his master. He was dressed for dinner and wore more than ever the air of the eminent9 diplomat10. Again I had the old feeling of incredulity. It was the Lumley I had met two nights before at dinner, the friend of Viceroys and Cabinet Ministers. It was hard to connect him with Antioch Street or the red-haired footman with a pistol. Or with Tuke? Yes, I decided11, Tuke fitted into the frame. Both were brains cut loose from the decencies that make life possible.
"Good evening, Mr. Leithen," he said pleasantly. "As you have fixed12 the hour of eight, may I offer you dinner?"
"Thank you," I replied, "but I have already dined. I have chosen an awkward time, but my business need not take long."
"So," he said. "I am always glad to see you at any hour."
"And I prefer to see the master rather than the subordinates who have been infesting13 my life during the past week."
We both laughed. "I am afraid you have had some annoyance14, Mr. Leithen," he said. "But remember, I gave you fair warning."
"True. And I have come to do the same kindness to you. That part of the game, at any rate, is over."
"Yes, over," I said, and took out my watch. "Let us be quite frank with each other, Mr. Lumley. There is really very little time to waste. As you have doubtless read the paper which you stole from my friend this morning you know more or less the extent of my information."
"Let us have frankness by all means. Yes, I have read your paper. A very creditable piece of work, if I may say so. You will rise in your profession, Mr. Leithen. But surely you must realise that it carries you a very little way."
"In a sense you are right. I am not in a position to reveal the full extent of your misdeeds. Of the Power-House and its doings I can only guess. But Pitt-Heron is on his way home, and he will be carefully safeguarded on that journey. Your creature, Saronov, has confessed. We shall know more very soon, and meantime I have clear evidence which implicates17 you in a conspiracy18 to murder."
He did not answer, but I wished I could see behind his tinted19 spectacles to the look in his eyes. I think he had not been quite prepared for the line I took.
"I need not tell you as a lawyer, Mr. Leithen," he said at last, "that what seems good evidence on paper is often feeble enough in Court. You cannot suppose that I will tamely plead guilty to your charges. On the contrary, I will fight them with all the force that brains and money can give. You are an ingenious young man, but you are not the brightest jewel of the English Bar."
"That also is true. I do not deny that some of my evidence may be weakened at the trial. It is even conceivable that you may be acquitted20 on some technical doubt. But you have forgotten one thing. From the day you leave the Court you will be a suspected man. The police of all Europe will be on your trail. You have been highly successful in the past, and why? Because you have been above suspicion, an honourable21 and distinguished22 gentleman, belonging to the best clubs, counting as your acquaintances the flower of our society. Now you will be a suspect, a man with a past, a centre of strange stories. I put it to you—how far are you likely to succeed under these conditions?"
He laughed.
"You have a talent for character drawing, my friend. What makes you think that I can work only if I live in the limelight of popularity?"
"The talent you mentioned," I said. "As I read your character—and I think I am right—you are an artist in crime. You are not the common cut-throat who acts out of passion or greed. No, I think you are something subtler than that. You love power, hidden power. You flatter your vanity by despising mankind and making them your tools. You scorn the smattering of inaccuracies which passes for human knowledge, and I will not venture to say you are wrong. Therefore you use your brains to frustrate23 it. Unhappily the life of millions is built on that smattering, so you are a foe24 to society. But there would be no flavour in controlling subterranean25 things if you were yourself a mole26 working in the dark. To get the full flavour, the irony27 of it all, you must live in the light. I can imagine you laughing in your soul as you move about our world, praising it with your lips, patting it with your hands, and kicking its props28 away with your feet. I can see the charm of it. But it is over now."
"Over?" he asked.
"Over," I repeated. "The end has come—the utter, final and absolute end."
He made a sudden, odd, nervous movement, pushing his glasses close back upon his eyes.
"What about yourself?" he said hoarsely29. "Do you think you can play against me without suffering desperate penalties?"
He was holding a cord in his hand with a knob on the end of it. He now touched a button in the knob and there came the faint sound of a bell.
The door was behind me and he was looking beyond me towards it. I was entirely30 at his mercy, but I never budged31 an inch. I do not know how I managed to keep calm, but I did it, and without much effort. I went on speaking, conscious that the door had opened and that someone was at my back.
"It is really quite useless trying to frighten me. I am safe, because I am dealing33 with an intelligent man and not with the ordinary half-witted criminal. You do not want my life in silly revenge. If you call in your men and strangle me between you what earthly good would it do you?"
He was looking beyond me and the passion—a sudden white-hot passion like an epilepsy—was dying out of his face.
"A mistake, James," he said. "You can go."
The door closed softly at my back.
"Yes. A mistake. I have a considerable admiration34 for you, Mr. Lumley, and should be sorry to be disappointed."
He laughed quite like an ordinary mortal. "I am glad this affair is to be conducted on a basis of mutual36 respect. Now that the melodramatic overture38 is finished, let us get to the business."
"By all means," I said. "I promised to deal with you frankly39. Well, let me put my last cards on the table. At half-past nine precisely40 the duplicate of that statement of mine which you annexed41 this morning will be handed to Scotland Yard. I may add that the authorities there know me, and are proceeding42 under my advice. When they read that statement they will act on it. You have therefore about one and a half, or say one and three-quarter hours to make up your mind. You can still secure your freedom, but it must be elsewhere than in England."
He had risen to his feet, and was pacing up and down the room.
"Will you oblige me by telling me one thing," he said. "If you believe me to be, as you say, a dangerous criminal, how do you reconcile it with your conscience to give me a chance of escape? It is your duty to bring me to justice."
"I will tell you why," I said. "I, too, have a weak joint43 in my armour44. Yours is that you only succeed under the disguise of high respectability. That disguise, in any case, will be stripped from you. Mine is Pitt-Heron. I do not know how far he has entangled45 himself with you, but I know something of his weakness, and I don't want his career ruined and his wife's heart broken. He has learned his lesson, and will never mention you and your schemes to a mortal soul. Indeed, if I can help it, he will never know that anyone shares his secret. The price of the chance of escape I offer you is that Pitt-Heron's past be buried for ever."
He did not answer. He had his arms folded, walking up and down the room, and suddenly seemed to have aged32 enormously. I had the impression that I was dealing with a very old man.
"Mr. Leithen," he said at last, "you are bold. You have a frankness which almost amounts to genius. You are wasted in your stupid profession, but your speculative46 powers are not equal to your other endowments, so you will probably remain in it, deterred47 by an illogical scruple48 from following your true bent49. Your true métier, believe me, is what shallow people call crime. Speaking 'without prejudice,' as the idiot solicitors50 say, it would appear that we have both weak spots in our cases. Mine, you say, is that I can only work by using the conventions of what we agreed to call the Machine. There may be truth in that. Yours is that you have a friend who lacks your iron-clad discretion51. You offer a plan which saves both our weaknesses. By the way, what is it?"
I looked at my watch again. "You have ample time to catch the night express to Paris."
"And if not?"
"Then I am afraid there may be trouble with the police between ten and eleven o'clock."
"Which for all our sakes would be a pity. Do you know you interest me uncommonly52, for you confirm the accuracy of my judgment53. I have always had a notion that some day I should run across to my sorrow just such a man as you. A man of very great intellectual power I can deal with, for that kind of brain is usually combined with the sort of high-strung imagination on which I can work. The same with your over-imaginative man. Yes Pitt-Heron was of that type. Ordinary brains do not trouble me, for I puzzle them. Now you are a man of good average intelligence. Pray forgive the lukewarmness of the phrase; it is really a high compliment, for I am an austere54 critic. If you were that and no more you would not have succeeded. But you possess also a quite irrelevant55 gift of imagination. Not enough to upset your balance, but enough to do what your mere56 lawyer's talent could never have done. You have achieved a feat57 which is given to few—you have partially58 understood me. Believe me, I rate you high. You are the kind of four-square being bedded in the concrete of our civilisation59, on whom I have always felt I might some day come to grief.... No, no, I am not trying to wheedle60 you. If I thought I could do that I should be sorry, for my discernment would have been at fault."
"I warn you," I said, "that you are wasting precious time."
He laughed quite cheerfully.
"I believe you are really anxious about my interests," he said. "That is a triumph indeed. Do you know, Mr. Leithen, it is a mere whimsy61 of fate that you are not my disciple62. If we had met earlier and under other circumstances I should have captured you. It is because you have in you a capacity for discipleship63 that you have succeeded in your opposition64."
He shook his head gently.
"It is the wrong word. I am not courageous66. To be brave means that you have conquered fear, but I have never had any fear to conquer. Believe me, Mr. Leithen, I am quite impervious67 to threats. You come to me to-night and hold a pistol to my head. You offer me two alternatives, both of which mean failure. But how do you know that I regard them as failure? I have had what they call a good run for my money. No man since Napoleon has tasted such power. I may be willing to end it. Age creeps on and power may grow burdensome. I have always sat loose from common ambitions and common affections. For all you know I may regard you as a benefactor68."
All this talk looks futile69 when it is written down, but it was skilful70 enough, for it was taking every atom of exhilaration out of my victory. It was not idle brag71. Every syllable72 rang true, as I knew in my bones. I felt myself in the presence of something enormously big, as if a small barbarian73 was desecrating74 the colossal75 Zeus of Pheidias with a coal hammer. But I also felt it inhuman76, and I hated it and I clung to that hatred77.
"You fear nothing and you believe nothing," I said. "Man, you should never have been allowed to live."
He raised a deprecating hand. "I am a sceptic about most things," he said, "but, believe me, I have my own worship. I venerate78 the intellect of man. I believe in its undreamed-of possibilities, when it grows free like an oak in the forest and is not dwarfed79 in a flower-pot. From that allegiance I have never wavered. That is the God I have never forsworn."
I took out my watch.
"Permit me again to remind you that time presses."
"True," he said smiling, "the continental80 express will not wait upon my confession81. Your plan is certainly conceivable. There may be other and easier ways. I am not certain. I must think.... Perhaps it would be wiser if you left me now, Mr. Leithen. If I take your advice there will be various things to do.... In any case there will be much to do...."
He led me to the door as if he were an ordinary host speeding an ordinary guest. I remember that on my way he pointed35 out a set of Aldines and called my attention to their beauty. He shook hands quite cordially and remarked on the fineness of the weather. That was the last I saw of this amazing man.
It was with profound relief that I found myself in Piccadilly in the wholesome82 company of my kind. I had carried myself boldly enough in the last hour, but I would not have gone through it again for a king's ransom83. Do you know what it is to deal with a pure intelligence, a brain stripped of every shred84 of humanity? It is like being in the company of a snake.
I drove to the club and telephoned to Macgillivray, asking him to take no notice of my statement till he heard from me in the morning. Then I went to the hospital to see Chapman.
That leader of the people was in a furious temper and he was scarcely to be appeased85 by my narrative86 of the day's doings. Your Labour Member is the greatest of all sticklers87 for legality, and the outrage88 he had suffered that morning had grievously weakened his trust in public security. The Antioch Street business had seemed to him eminently89 right; if you once got mixed up in melodrama37 you had to expect such things. But for a Member of Parliament to be robbed in broad daylight next door to the House of Commons upset the foundations of his faith. There was little the matter with his body and the doctor promised that he would be allowed up next day, but his soul was a mass of bruises90.
It took me a lot of persuasion91 to get him to keep quiet. He wanted a public exposure of Lumley, a big trial, a general ferreting out of secret agents, the whole winding92 up with a speech in Parliament by himself on this last outrage of Capitalism93. Gloomily he listened to my injunctions to silence. But he saw the reason of it and promised to hold his tongue out of loyalty94 to Tommy. I knew that Pitt-Heron's secret was safe with him.
As I crossed Westminster Bridge on my way home the night express to the Continent rumbled95 over the river. I wondered if Lumley was on board or if he had taken one of the other ways of which he had spoken.
该作者的其它作品
《Greenmantle绿斗篷》
《The Thirty-nine Steps》
该作者的其它作品
《Greenmantle绿斗篷》
《The Thirty-nine Steps》
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88 outrage | |
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89 eminently | |
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90 bruises | |
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91 persuasion | |
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92 winding | |
n.绕,缠,绕组,线圈 | |
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93 capitalism | |
n.资本主义 | |
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94 loyalty | |
n.忠诚,忠心 | |
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95 rumbled | |
发出隆隆声,发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 轰鸣着缓慢行进; 发现…的真相; 看穿(阴谋) | |
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