Troy was a bran-new suburb, built by a jerry-builder, who knew Greek history through the medium of Lempriere's Dictionary. This pseudo-scholar had erected6 classic villas8 with classic names in roads, avenues, and streets designated by Hellenic appellations9. The rents in this anachronistic10 suburb were rather high, and the houses were inhabited mostly by stockbrokers11, prosperous or not, according to their wits or the state of the money-market. There was also a sprinkling of schoolmasters, professors, and students, attracted by the phraseology of the place, which promised cultured surroundings. The drainage was perfect and the morals were unexceptional So new was the suburb, that not even a slum had been evolved to mar12 its cleanliness. The police, having little to do in so genteel a neighbourhood, were individually and collectively more for ornament13 than use. The ten years' history of the locality was one of order, intense respectability, and consequent dulness. Only in a rogues14' purlieus is life picturesque15 and exciting.
Mulligan was a black-haired giant, somewhat dull, but possessed16 of a dogged sense of duty, eminently17 useful when taken in conjunction with brute18 force. He paced his beat in a ruminative19 frame of mind, thinking, not unpleasantly, of a certain pretty housemaid, with whom he intended to walk out on Sunday. Being as talkative as Bunyan's character of that name, Mulligan would not have been displeased20 to meet a brother-officer, or even a stray reveller21, with whom to converse22. But his fellows were in other neighbourhoods, and revellers were unknown in the respectable streets of Troy; so Mulligan, for the sake of hearing his own voice, hummed a little song in a deep bass23 growl24. He passed Hector Villa7, Agamemnon Villa, Paris Villa, and Priam Villa, all of which were in darkness, enshrined in leafy gardens. At the gate of Ajax Villa he halted. A light in a first-floor window over the classic porch showed that the inmates25 had not yet retired26. Also a woman was singing. Constable Mulligan, being fond of music, waited to hear the song.
"Kathleen Mavourneen;" thought he, recognising the melody, "and a fine pipe she has who sings it. It's a party they'll be having within, with the tongues clapping and the whisky flowing. Begorra, it's myself that's wishing I had some of that same," and he wiped his mouth with a longing27 air.
As he stood at the gate, looking up the wide path which ran straightly to the shallow steps of the porch through a short avenue of elms in full leaf, he became aware that some one was coming out of the front door. The constable put it to himself in this way, as he heard the sound of opening and shutting, but no stream of light, as he expected, poured from the hall. With such darkness there could scarcely be a party in progress. Also--as Mulligan's quick ears detected--the door was opened with unusual caution and closed with equal care. The person who had emerged--whether it was a man or a woman the policeman could not guess--hesitated on the steps for a few minutes. Apparently the officer's form bulked blackly against the light of the opposite street-lamp, and the stranger was undecided whether to re-enter the house, or to come down the path. Mulligan was too dense28 to be suspicious, and merely wondered why the person in question did not fulfil his or her original intention. Meanwhile the song flowed an smoothly29, and Mulligan half unconsciously noted30 that although the words were sung slowly, the piano music between each verse was played hurriedly.
Finally, thinking that the stranger on the steps would not approve of a policeman leaning on the gate, Mulligan turned away with the airy grace of an elephant. Hardly had he taken a few steps when a young man came quickly down the path with a light, springy step. In a pleasant tenor31 voice he called to the constable. "Anything wrong, officer?" he asked, and the gate clicked behind him as he uttered the words.
Mulligan, halting under a street-lamp, saluted32 good-humouredly. "No, sir," he declared. "I was just listening to your good lady singing."
"My sister," corrected the man, also pausing under the lamp, but in such a position that the light did not reveal his countenance33. "You ought to like that song, constable."
"An' for why, sir?"
"It's Irish, as you are."
"Augh! An' is it me, sir, you'd be calling Irish?"
"The way in which you turn that sentence would stamp your nationality, even if the brogue didn't," retorted the young man, taking out a silver cigarette-case. "You smoke, officer?"
"Mostly a pipe, sir," rejoined Mulligan, accepting the little roll of tobacco. "Is it a light you'll be wanting?"
"Thanks," said the other, and bent35 down to ignite his cigarette at the match provided by the policeman. But he still kept his face in shadow. Not that Mulligan had any desire or reason to see it. He merely thought that the gentleman was a departing guest, although he could not account for the dark hall, which set aside the idea of a party. Moreover, the stranger was arrayed in a light tweed suit, which was not exactly appropriate for a party. Also he wore a loose overcoat of bluish-black cloth, with a deep velvet36 collar and velvet cuffs37 made in the latest fashion. On so warm a night, this garment was quite unnecessary. Still, Mulligan had no reason to be suspicious, and was the last man to be inquisitive38. He had the politeness if not the keen wit of the Celt.
After lighting39 his cigarette the gentleman strolled away towards the ancient village which formed the nucleus41 of modern Troy. Unwilling42 to lose the chance of a pleasant conversation, and perhaps a kindly43 shilling, Mulligan followed, and beside the light active form of his companion looked like a bear lumbering44 in the company of an antelope45. The gentleman did not appear anxious to talk, so Mulligan made the first remark.
"The song's done," said he, as they walked on.
"It isn't a long song," replied the other carelessly. "I dare say she'll start another soon, and you can listen at the gate half the night, if you have a mind to."
"It's a party you'll be having then, sir?"
"Party! No! Can't people sit up till midnight without having the house full of dancers?"
"Augh," grunted46 Mulligan; "there being no light in the hall, I might have guessed there was no party."
The other man started slightly and laughed uneasily. "My sister asked me to turn out the light when I went," said he. "I did so before I opened the door."
"You'll be going home then, sir?"
"Yes--to the other end of London. Is there a hansom about?"
"Near the station, sir. That'll be half a mile away."
"I know--I know," retorted the other quickly. "I often come here to see my sister." He paused, then added anxiously: "I suppose you know most of the people who live in these villas?"
"None, sir. I've only been on this beat a week."
"You'll get to know them soon, I expect. A quiet place, officer."
"It is that, sir," assented47 Mulligan, as they turned down a narrow and lonely street. "Never a robbery or an accident or a murder to make things happy."
"Why should there be a murder?" asked the man angrily. "Murders are not so common."
"More common than you think, sir, but the most of them aren't found out. It is I who'd like a really fine crime with my name in the papers, and a printed recommendation as an efficient officer. None of your poker48 murders and plain sailing you'll understand, sir, but a mystery, as you read of in them little books written by gentry49 as don't know the law."
"Ah! Incidents in detective novels rarely occur in real life," said the other, with a more tranquil50 laugh. "Providence51 is too original to borrow in that way. But live in hope, officer, a crime may come your way sooner than you expect."
"Not hereabouts, sir." Mulligan shook his head gloomily. "It's too clean a neighbourhood."
"The very place where a crime is likely to occur. Have you another light, constable?"
Mulligan struck another match, and this time he saw the face of the speaker clearly. It was a handsome face, rather worried-looking. But as the stranger wore a moustache and a small pointed52 beard, and as his Homberg hat--it was grey with a black band--was pressed down over his eyes, Mulligan could not determine if he were more than usually worried. Not that he minded. He fancied after some reflection that this handsome young gentleman was--as he put it--out on the spree, and therefore took the marks of worry for those of dissipation. He did not even examine the face closely, but when the match was extinguished he halted. "There's the half-hour, sir. I must get back to my beat."
"And I must race for a cab," said the stranger, pressing a half-crown into a not unwilling hand. "Thanks for coming so far with me, officer. I wonder if my watch is right," he added, pulling it out. "It's half-past eleven." Something fell at the moment, chipped against the curb53 with a tinkling54 sound, and rebounded55 into the road. "You've dropped something, sir," said Mulligan, flashing his lantern towards the middle of the street.
The other felt his pockets. "No, I don't think so. Can you see anything? Oh, no matter. I dare say--what can I have dropped?"
The two searched for a time without success. At length the stranger shook his head positively56, and felt his pockets again. "You must be mistaken," he remarked. "I don't think anything is missing. However, if you do find anything, you can give it to me when you see me next. You are usually on this beat?"
"For the next three nights, sir."
"Ah then, we are sure to meet. I often come here. Good night." And with a wave of his hand the gentleman walked rapidly away. At the turn of the street he looked back and again waved his hand. It might have been that he was anxious to see if the constable was watching him. But no such suspicion occurred to Mulligan. He was too pleased with the half-crown.
"A fine upstanding young gentleman," was the policeman's verdict; "free with his money"--he here produced the cigarette--"and his tobacco, good luck go with him."
As the inspector57 was not within sight, and indeed would not be until Mulligan returned to the fixed58 point in Achilles Avenue, the policeman decided to solace59 himself with a smoke. After lighting up he threw away the match. It fell almost in the middle of the road, and flamed up brightly in a pause of the wind. Although it went out with the next gust60, Mulligan, in the short time, caught with his keen eye the glitter of steel. Striking another match, he searched round, and picked up a latch-key, long and slim and with scarcely projecting wards40. "He'll not get to his bed this night," said Mulligan, looking towards the corner. "If I was to run after him now------"
But this, he decided, was impossible. The gentleman, walking at an unusually rapid pace, would be some distance away, and also in the meantime he might have met with a hansom. Also Mulligan had to return to the fixed point, as failure to meet his superior officer would meet with a sharp reprimand. "Ah well," said the philosophic61 policeman, "the young gentleman will be here to-morrow night, or maybe his sister will be still up, and I can give the key to her."
On the chance of securing another half-crown, Mulligan decided that this latter course would be the more diplomatic. Astutely62 adopting it, he walked smartly to Achilles Avenue. A consultation63 of his Waterbury watch assured him that he had nearly twenty minutes to spare before the arrival of the inspector. He therefore sought out Ajax Villa, being guided thereto by the fact that the light was still burning on the first floor. But he heard no singing. However, the light showed that the lady was still in the room, though doubtless the servants--as was shown plainly by the stranger's conversation--were in bed. Mulligan walked up to the door and rang. With some foresight64 he argued the lady would come herself to the door, whereby he would be more certain of his money.
The wind was dying down, now that it was close upon midnight, and everything in the house and garden was absolutely still. Walking up the path under the umbrageous65 shelter of the elms, Mulligan saw the colours of the flowers in neutral tints66 under a faint starry67 sky. There was no moon, but a kind of luminous68 twilight69 pervaded70 the atmosphere. Mulligan, being a Celt, was not impervious71 to the charm of the place which might have been Juliet's garden, so strangely had the magic of night transmuted72 its commonplace into romance. But his housemaid was expensive, and he hurried to the door, anxious to obtain a reward for the return of the key.
Several times did he ring, and although he heard the shrill73 vibration74 of the bell echo through the house, no one appeared in answer to its imperative75 summons. Thinking he might have made a mistake, the constable stepped back into the garden. But he was right. This was the villa out of which the young man had issued, for there burned the guiding light on the first floor. Mulligan felt puzzled by the inexplicable76 silence and rang the bell again. Indeed he pressed his great thumb on the ivory button for nearly one minute. The bell shrilled77 continuously and imperiously. Still no one came. Mulligan scratched his head and considered. "Something's wrong," thought he. "If I'd the key I'd enter and see if the lady is ill. Queer, the bell don't waken the servants. Augh! The lazy beasts."
It occurred to him that in his hand he held the key dropped by the young gentleman. Almost without thinking he fumbled78 for the hole and slipped in the key. To his surprise it turned under his involuntary pressure, and the door swung open noiselessly. Again the constable scratched his head. Things--so he assured himself--were becoming mysterious, and he scented79 an adventure. It was strange that this key should open the door. "Unless this is his home, and he's running away for some devilment. Maybe the lady isn't his sister; perhaps his wife or his sweetheart. Augh! But she'd not let him go at this hour. Catch her."
However he might argue, it was foolish to stand before an open door without doing something. The inspector would be round soon, and might--probably would--demand an explanation. Now that he had got this far, Mulligan naturally decided to see the adventure through. As yet he had no suspicion that anything was wrong, though he certainly thought the whole affair mysterious. Walking into the dark hall, at the end of which, by the light of his lantern, he saw the glimmer80 of a marble staircase, he called gently up into the blackness. "Is there any one there?" demanded Mulligan. "If so, come down, for I'm in want of an explanation."
He paused and listened. There came no reply. The dense silence held the house. Not even a clock ticked. Mulligan suppressed his breath and listened with all his ears. No sound filled them save the drumming of his heart. Again he ran into the garden and again assured himself that the light was burning overhead. He began to conclude that the position called for the intervention81 of the law. Assuming an official air, he tramped up the stairs, flashing the light right and left as he ascended82. He did not know the position of the room, save that it was in the front of the house. But thus indicated, he thought there would be little difficulty in finding it and solving the mystery.
From the glimpses he caught, the house appeared to be richly furnished. He saw pictures, velvet curtains, marble statues, and all the paraphernalia83 of a wealthy man's mansion84. The stairs were draped with scarlet85 hangings, contrasting vividly86 with the whiteness of the polished marble. On the landing, curtains of the same flamboyant87 hue88 were parted before another dark hall. Mulligan crossed this, for he saw--or thought he saw--a thread of light beneath a door. The hall was of marble and filled with tropical plants. A glass roof overhead revealed the starry night and the grotesque89 forms of the plants. The flooring was of mosaic90, and here and there stood velvet-cushioned chairs, deep and restful. Evidently the house was owned by rich and artistic91 people. And the fitful gleams from his lantern exaggerated the wealth and splendour around.
In spite of the noise made by his boots--which were anything but light--no one appeared to demand the reason of his intrusion. He began to feel an eerie92 feeling creeping over him. This silent, lordly house, the darkness, the stillness, the loneliness: it was all calculated to appeal strongly--as it did--to the Celtic imagination of the policeman.
Towards the thin stream of light flowing, as it seemed, from under the door, Mulligan took his cautious way. Knocking softly, he waited. No reply came. Again he knocked, and again the silence which struck a chill to his heart ensued. At length he took his courage in both hands and flung open the door. It was not locked. A gush93 of light nearly blinded him. He staggered back, and placed his hands across his dazzled eyes. Then he looked in bewilderment at a remarkable94 scene. The room was square and rather large, unbroken by pillar or arch, and contained only one window. Walls and roof and flooring and furniture and hangings were absolutely white. There was not a spot or speck95 of colour in the place. The walls were of white enamel96 studded with silver fleur-de-lis; the floor of polished marble strewn with white skins of long-haired animals. The curtains, drawn97 aside from the window, were of milky98 velvet. The furniture was of white polished wood cushioned with pearly silks. Everywhere the room was like snow, and the milky globes of the lamps shed an argent radiance over the whole. It looked cold and cheerless but eminently beautiful. An artistic room, but not one that had a homely99 look about it. The white glow, the dazzling expanse, colourless and severe, made the man shiver, rough though he was. "It's like a cold winter's day," said the imaginative Celt.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation100. On moving cautiously into the room, he saw a piano of polished white wood in a recess101, concealed102 by a white velvet curtain from the door. Before the piano lay a white bearskin; on this, face downward; the body of a woman. She was dressed in black, the one spot of colour in that pale room. But there was another colour--a vivid red, staining the skin. Mulligan touched the body--it was cold and limp. "Dead," said Mulligan. From under the left shoulder-blade trickled103 a thin stream of blood, and his voice, strong as it was, used as he had been to scenes of terror, faltered104 in the dead silence of that death-chamber.
"Dead! Murdered!"
Not a sound. Even the wind had died away. Only the strong man looking down at that still corpse105, only the blackness of her dress; the redness of her life-blood soaking into the white bearskin, and all around the wan34 desolation of that white, mysterious room, Arctic and silent.
该作者的其它作品
《Fergus Hume》
该作者的其它作品
《Fergus Hume》
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1
constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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3
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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appellations
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| n.名称，称号( appellation的名词复数 ) | |
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anachronistic
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| adj.时代错误的 | |
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stockbrokers
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| n.股票经纪人( stockbroker的名词复数 ) | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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14
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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15
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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ruminative
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| adj.沉思的，默想的，爱反复思考的 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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reveller
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| n.摆设酒宴者，饮酒狂欢者 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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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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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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42
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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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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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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antelope
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| n.羚羊；羚羊皮 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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47
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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49
gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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50
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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52
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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53
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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54
tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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55
rebounded
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| 弹回( rebound的过去式和过去分词 )； 反弹； 产生反作用； 未能奏效 | |
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56
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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57
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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58
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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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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astutely
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| adv.敏锐地；精明地；敏捷地；伶俐地 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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foresight
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| n.先见之明，深谋远虑 | |
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umbrageous
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| adj.多荫的 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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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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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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transmuted
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| v.使变形，使变质，把…变成…( transmute的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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shrilled
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| （声音）尖锐的，刺耳的，高频率的( shrill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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79
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
paraphernalia
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| n.装备；随身用品 | |
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84
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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85
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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flamboyant
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| adj.火焰般的，华丽的，炫耀的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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99
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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100
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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101
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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102
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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103
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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104
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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105
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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