“Yes, sir?” he asked interrogatively.
Kent eyed him in surprise. “Mr. Rochester here?” he inquired.
“No, sir. It am in charge of the office.”
“You are!” Kent's surprise increased. “I happen to be Mr. Kent, junior partner in this firm.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” The dapper clerk bowed and hurrying to his desk took up a letter. “Mr. Rochester left this for you, Mr. Kent, before his departure last night.”
“His departure!” Kent deposited his suit-case on one of the chairs and tore open the envelope. The note was a scrawl3, which he had some difficulty in deciphering.
“Dear Kent,” it ran. “Am called out of town; will be back Saturday. Saunders gave me some of his cheek this afternoon, so I fired him. I engaged John Sylvester to fill his place, who comes highly recommended. He will report for work to-morrow. Ta-ta—PHIL.”
Kent thrust the note into his pocket and picked up his suit-case.
“Mr. Rochester states that he has engaged you,” he said. “Your references—?”
“Here, sir.” The clerk handed him a folded paper, and Kent ran his eyes down the sheet from the sentence: “To whom it may concern” to the signature, Clark Hildebrand. The statement spoke4 in high terms of John Sylvester, confidential5 clerk.
“I can refer you to my other employers, Mr. Kent,” Sylvester volunteered as the young lawyer stood regarding the paper. “If you, desire further information there is Mr. Clymer and—”
“No, Judge Hildebrand's recommendation is sufficient.” And at Kent's smile the clerk's anxious expression vanished. “Did Mr. Rochester give you any outline of the work?”
“Yes, sir; he told me to file the papers in the Hitchcock case, and attend to the morning correspondence.”
“Very good. Has any one called this morning?”
“No, sir. These letters were addressed to you personally, and I have not opened them,” Sylvester handed a neatly6 arranged package to Kent. “These,” indicating several letters lying open on his desk, “are to the firm.”
“Bring them to me in half an hour,” and Kent walked into his private office, carefully closing the door behind him. Opening his suit-case he took out his brief bag and laid it on the desk in front of him together with the package of letters. Instead of opening the letters immediately, he tilted8 back in his chair and regarded the opposite wall in deep thought. Philip Rochester could not have selected a worse time to absent himself; three important cases were on the calendar for immediate7 trial and much depended on the firm's successful handling of them. Kent swore softly under his breath; his last warning to Rochester, that he would dissolve their partnership9 if the older man continued to neglect his practice, had been given only a month before and upon Kent's return from eight months' service in the Judge Advocate General's Department in France. Apparently10 his warning had fallen on deaf ears and Rochester was indulging in another periodic spree, for so Kent concluded, recalling the unsteady penmanship of the note handed to him by the new clerk, John Sylvester.
Kent was still frowning at the opposite wall when a faint knock sounded, and at his call Sylvester entered.
“Here are the letters received this morning, sir, and type-written copies of the answers to yesterday's correspondence which Mr. Rochester dictated11 before leaving,” Sylvester explained as he placed the papers on Kent's desk. “If you will o.k. them, I will mail them at once.”
Kent went through the letters with care, and the new clerk rose in his estimation as he read the excellent dictation of the clearly typed answers.
“These will do admirably,” he announced. “Sit down and I will reply to the other letters.”
At the end of an hour Sylvester closed his stenographic12 note book and collected the correspondence, by that time scattered13 over Kent's desk.
“I'll have these notes ready for your signature before lunch,” he said as he picked up a newspaper from the floor where it had tumbled during Kent's search for some particular letter heads. “I brought in the morning paper, sir; thought perhaps you had not seen it.”
“Thanks.” Kent swung his chair nearer the window and opened the newspaper. He had purchased a copy when walking through union Station on his arrival, but had left it in the cafeteria where he had snatched a cup of coffee and hot rolls before hurrying to his office.
He read a column devoted14 to international affairs, scanned an account of a senatorial wrangle15, and was about to turn to the second page, whistling cheerily, when his attention was arrested by the headings:
BANK CASHIER DIES IN POLICE COURT
JAMES TURNBULL, MISTAKEN FOR BURGLAR,
SUFFERS FATAL ATTACK OF ANGINA PECTORIS
Kent's whistle stopped abruptly16, and clutching the paper in both hands, he devoured17 the short account printed under the scare heads:
James Turnbull, cashier of the Metropolis19 Trust
Company, was arrested by Officer O'Ryan at an
early hour yesterday morning in the residence of
Colonel Charles McIntyre.
“Officer O'Ryan conducted his prisoner to the
8th Precinct Police Station, and later he was
arraigned in the police court. The Misses
McIntyre appeared in person to prefer the
charges against the supposed burglar, who, on
being sworn, gave the name of John Smith.
“Philip Rochester, the well known criminal
lawyer, was assigned by the court to defend the
prisoner. Upon the evidence submitted Judge
Mackall held the prisoner for trial by the grand
jury.
“It was just after the Judge's announcement
that 'John Smith,' then sitting in the prisoners
cage, was seized with the attack of angina pectoris
which ended so fatally a few minutes later.
It was not until after he had expired that those
rendering him medical assistance became aware
that he was James Turnbull in disguise.
“James Turnbull was a native of Washington,
his father, the late Hon Josiah Turnbull of
Connecticut, having made this city his permanent
home in the early '90s. Mr. Turnbull was looked
circles; he was also prominent socially, was a
Clubs, and until recently was active in all forms
exercise.
“Officer O'Ryan, who was greatly shocked by
the fatal termination to Mr. Turnbull's rash
wager, stated to the representatives of the press
that Mr. Turnbull gave no hint of his identity
while being interrogated25 at the 8th Precinct
Station. Friends attribute Mr. Turnbull's
disinclination to reveal himself to the court, to
that the resultant excitement of the scene would
react on his weak heart.
“Mr. Turnbull is survived by a great aunt; he had
no nearer relatives living. It is a singular
coincidence that the lawyer appointed by the
court to defend Turnbull was his intimate friend,
Philip Rochester, who made his home with the
deceased.”
Kent read the column over and over, then, letting the paper slip to the floor, sat back in his chair, too dumb-founded for words. Jimmie Turnbull arrested as a burglar in the home of the girl he loved on charges preferred by her, and defended in court by his intimate friend, both of whom were unaware27 of his identity! Kent rumpled28 his fair hair until it stood upright. And Jimmie's death had followed almost immediately as the result of over-excitement!
Kent's eyes grew moist; he had been very fond of the eccentric, lovable bank cashier, whose knack29 of performing many a kindly30 act, unsolicited, had endeared him to friends and acquaintances alike. Kent had seen much of him after his return from France, for Jimmie's attention to Helen McIntyre had been only second to Kent's devotion to the latter's sister, Barbara. The two men had one bond in common. Colonel McIntyre disliked them and discouraged their calling, to the secret fury of both, but love had found a way—Kent's eyes kindled31 at the recollection of Barbara's half-shy, wholly tender reception of his ardent32 pleading.
Turnbull's courtship had met with a set-back where he had least expected it—Philip Rochester had fallen deeply in love with Helen and, encouraged by her father, had pressed his suit with ardor33. Frequent quarrels between the two close friends had been the outcome, and Jimmie had confided34 to Kent, before the latter left on the business trip to Chicago from which he had returned that morning, that the situation had become intolerable and he had notified Rochester that he would no longer share his apartment with him, and to look for other quarters as quickly as possible.
So buried was Kent in his thoughts that he never heard Sylvester's knock, and it was not until the clerk stood at his elbow that he awoke from his absorption.
“A lady to see you, Mr. Kent,” he announced. “Shall I show her in?”
“Certainly—her name?”
“She gave none.” Sylvester paused on his way back to the door. “It is one of the Misses McIntyre.”
“Good Lord!” Kent was on his feet, straightening his tie and brushing his rumpled hair. “Here, wait a minute”—clutching a whisk broom in a frantic35 endeavor to remove some of the signs of travel which still clung to him. But he had only opportunity for one dab36 at his left shoulder before Barbara entered the office. All else forgotten, Kent tossed down the whisk broom and the next instant he had clasped her hand in both of his, his eyes telling more eloquently37 than his stumbling words, his joy at seeing her again.
“This is a business call,” she stated demurely38, “on you and Mr. Rochester.” Her lovely eyes held a glint of mischief39 as she mentioned Kent's partner, then her expression grew serious. “I want legal advice.”
“I am afraid you will have to put up with me,” Kent moved his chair closer to the one she had selected by the desk. “Rochester is out of town.”
“What!” Barbara sat bolt upright. “Where—where's he gone?”
“I don't know”—Kent pulled Rochester's letter out of his pocket and re-read it. “He did not mention where he was going.”
Barbara stared at him; she had paled.
“When did Philip leave?”
“Last night, I presume.” Kent tipped back his chair and pressed a buzzer40; a second later Sylvester appeared in the doorway41.
“Did Mr. Rochester tell you where he was going?” he asked the clerk.
“No, sir. Mr. Rochester stated that you had his address.
“I?” Kent concealed42 his growing surprise. “Did he leave any message for me, other than the letter?”
“No, sir.
“At what hour did he leave the office?”
“I can't say, sir; he was still here when I went away at five o'clock. He gave me a key to the office so that I could get in this morning.” Kent remained silent, and he added, “Is that all, sir?”
As the door closed Barbara turned to Kent. “Have you heard about Jimmie Turnbull?”
Her voice was a bit breathless as she put the question, but Kent, puzzling over his partner's eccentric conduct, hardly noted44 her agitation45.
“Yes. I saw the account just now in the morning paper,” he answered. “A shocking affair. Poor Turnbull! He was a good fellow.”
“He was!” Barbara spoke with unaccustomed vehemence46, and looking at her Kent saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Impulsively47 he threw his arm about her, holding her close.
“My heart's dearest,” he murmured fondly. “If there is anything—anything I can do—”
Barbara straightened up and winked48 away the tears. “There is,” she said tersely49. “Investigate Jimmie's death.”
Kent gazed at her in astonishment50. “Please explain,” he suggested. “The morning paper states very plainly that the cause of death was an attack of angina pectoris.”
“Yes, I know, and that is what Philip Rochester contends also.” Barbara paused and glanced about the office; they had the room to themselves. “B-but Helen believes otherwise.”
Kent drew back. “What do you mean, Babs?” he demanded.
“Just that,” Barbara spoke wearily, and Kent, giving her close attention, grew aware of dark shadows under her eyes which told plainly of a sleepless51 night. “I want to engage you as our counsel to help Helen find out about Jimmie's death.”
“Find out what?” asked Kent, his bewilderment increasing. “Do you mean that Jimmie's death was not the result of a dangerous heart disease, but of foul52 play?”
Barbara nodded her head vigorously. “Yes.”
Kent sat back in his chair and regarded her in silence for a second. “How could that be, Babs, in an open police court with dozens of spectators all about?” he asked. “The slightest attempt to kill him would have been frustrated53 by the police officials; remember, a prisoner especially, is hedged in and guarded.”
“Well, he wasn't so very hedged in,” retorted Barbara. “I was there and saw how closely people approached Jimmie.”
“Did you observe any one hand him anything?”
“N-no,” Barbara drawled the word as she strove to visualize54 the scene in the court room; then catching55 Kent's look of doubt she added with unmistakable emphasis. “Helen and I do not believe that Jimmie died from natural causes; we think the tragedy should be investigated.” Her soft voice deepened. “I must know the truth, Harry, dear; for I feel that perhaps I am responsible for Jimmie's death.”
“You!” Kent's voice rose in indignant protest. “Absurd!”
“No, it isn't If it had not been for my wager with Jimmie, he never would have entered our house disguised as a burglar.”
“What brought about the wager?”
“Last Sunday Helen was boasting of her two new police dogs which Philip Rochester recently gave her, and said how safe she felt. We've had several burglaries in our neighborhood,” Barbara explained, “and when Jimmie scoffed56 at the dogs, I bet him that he could not break into the house without the dogs arousing the household. I never once thought about Jimmie's heart trouble,” she confessed, and her lips quivered. “I feel so guilty.”
“You are inconsistent, Babs,” chided Kent gently. “One moment you reproach yourself for being the cause of bringing on Jimmie's heart attack, and the next you declare you believe he died through foul play. You,” looking at her tenderly, while a whimsical smile softened57 his stern mouth, “don't go so far as to claim you murdered him, do you?”
“Of course I didn't!” Barbara spoke with indignant emphasis, and her fingers snapped in uncontrollable nervousness. “Jimmie was very dear”—she hesitated—“to us. Neither Helen nor I can leave a stone unturned until we know without a shadow of a doubt what killed him.”
“That is easily proven,” declared Kent. “An autopsy—”
“Helen asked the coroner to hold one.”
Kent stared—the twins were certainly in earnest.
“My advice to you is to wait until you hear the result of the post-mortem from Coroner Penfield,” he said gravely. “Until we know definitely what killed Jimmie, speculation58 is idle.”
Barbara rose at once. “I thought you would be more sympathetic,” she remarked, and her voice was a bit unsteady. “I am sorry to have troubled you.”
In an instant Kent was by her side. “Barbara,” he entreated59. “I promise solemnly to aid you in every possible way. My only happiness is in serving you,” his voice was very tender. “I slave here day in and day out that I may sometime be able to make a home for you. Don't leave me in anger.”
“I was not angry, only deeply hurt,” Barbara confessed. “I have so longed to see you. I—I needed you! I—” The rest was lost as she bowed her head against Kent's broad shoulder, and his impassioned whispers of devotion brought solace60 to her troubled spirit.
“I must go,” declared Barbara ten minutes later. “Father would make a fearful scene if he knew I had been here to see you.” She picked up her hand-bag, preparatory to leaving. “Then I can tell Helen that you will aid us?”
“Yes.” Kent stopped on his way to the door. “I will try and see the coroner this afternoon. In the meantime, Babs, can't you tell me what makes you suspect that Jimmie might have been killed?”
Kent did not smile. “Instinct,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Well, does your instinct hazard a guess as to the weapon, the opportunity, and the motive62 for such a crime? Jimmie Turnbull hadn't an enemy in the world.”
Barbara looked at him oddly. “Suppose you find the answer to those conundrums,” she suggested. “Don't come to the elevator; Margaret Brewster may see you with me, and she would tell father of our meeting.”
“Is Mrs. Brewster still with you?” asked Kent, paying no attention to her protests as he accompanied her down the corridor. “I understood she planned to return to the West last week.”
“She did, but father persuaded her to prolong her visit,” Barbara was guilty of a grimace63, then hailing the descending64 elevator she bolted into it and waved her good-by to Kent as the cage shot downward.
When Kent reentered his office he found Sylvester hanging up the telephone receiver.
“Mr. Clymer has telephoned to ask if you will come to the Metropolis Trust Company at once,” he said, and before Kent could frame a reply he had darted65 into the coat closet and brought out his hat and cane66, and handed them to him.
“Don't wait for me, but go out for your luncheon,” directed Kent, observing the hour. “I have my key and can get in when I return if you should not be here,” and not waiting to hear Sylvester's thanks, he hurried away.
The clock over the bank had just struck noon when Kent reached the fine office building which housed the Metropolis Trust Company, and as he entered the bank, a messenger stopped him.
“Mr. Clymer is waiting for you in his private office, sir,” he said, and led the way past the long rows of mahogany counters and plate glass windows to the back of the bank, finally stopping before a door bearing the name, in modest lettering—BENJAMIN AUGUSTUS CLYMER. The bank president was sensitive on one point; he never permitted initials only to be used before his name. The messenger's deferential67 knock was answered by a gruff command to enter. Clymer welcomed Kent with an air of relief.
“You know Colonel McIntyre,” he said by way of introduction, and Kent became aware that the tall man lounging with his back to him in one of the leather covered chairs was Barbara's father. Colonel McIntyre returned Kent's bow with a curt68 nod, and then Clymer pushed forward a chair.
“Sit down, Kent,” he began. “You have already handled several confidential affairs for the bank in a satisfactory manner, and I have sent for you to-day to ask your aid in an urgent matter. Before I go further I must ask you to treat what I am about to say as strictly69 confidential.”
“Certainly, Mr. Clymer.”
“Good! Then draw up your chair.” Clymer waited until Kent had complied with his request. “You have heard of Jimmie Turnbull's sudden and tragic70 death?”
“Yes.”
“As you know, he was cashier of this bank.” Clymer spoke with deliberation. “Soon after word reached here of his death, the vice-president and treasurer71 of the bank had a careful examination made of his books and accounts.” Clymer paused to clear his throat; he was troubled with an irritating cough. “Turnbull's accounts were found in first class order.”
“I am sure they would be, Mr. Clymer,” exclaimed Kent warmly. “Any one who knew Jimmie would never doubt his honesty.”
McIntyre turned in his chair and regarded the speaker with no friendly eye, but aside from that, took no part in the conversation. Clymer did not at once resume speaking.
“To-day,” he commenced finally, “Colonel McIntyre called at the bank and asked the treasurer, Mr. Gilmore, for certain valuable negotiable securities which he left in the bank's care a month ago. Mr. Gilmore told Colonel McIntyre that these securities had been given to Jimmie Turnbull last Saturday on his presentation of a letter from McIntyre requesting that they be turned over to the bank's cashier. McIntyre expressed his surprise and asked to see the letter”—Clymer paused and took a paper from his desk. “Here is the letter.”
Kent took the paper and examined it closely.
“This is perfectly72 in order,” he said. “A clear statement in Colonel McIntyre's handwriting and on his stationery73.”
For the first time Colonel McIntyre addressed him.
“The letter is in order,” he acknowledged, “and written on my stationery, but it was not written by me. The letter is a clever forgery74.”
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收听单词发音
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1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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2
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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3
scrawl
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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4
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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5
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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6
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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7
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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8
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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9
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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10
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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11
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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12
stenographic
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| adj.速记的，利用速记的 | |
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13
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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14
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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15
wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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16
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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17
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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18
wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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19
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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20
banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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alibi
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| n.某人当时不在犯罪现场的申辩或证明；借口 | |
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metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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athletics
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| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
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precluded
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| v.阻止( preclude的过去式和过去分词 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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25
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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26
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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27
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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28
rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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30
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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31
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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33
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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34
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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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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38
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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39
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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40
buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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41
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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42
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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43
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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44
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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45
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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46
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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48
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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49
tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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50
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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53
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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54
visualize
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| vt.使看得见，使具体化，想象，设想 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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scoffed
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| 嘲笑，嘲弄( scoff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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61
tangible
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| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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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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66
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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67
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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68
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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69
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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73
stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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