I suppose it's a pretty damaging confession2 but the office, my duty to my work and my associates, cut no ice at all. Heretofore I'd rather patted myself on the back as a man who stood by his obligations. That night only one obligation existed for me—to protect from disgrace the woman I loved.
I knew the trains to Azalea—it was on the road to Firehill—and though one left at midnight, the last train on the branch line to the Azalea Woods Estates had long gone. The shortest and quickest way for me to get there was to take out my own car. This would also insure the necessary secrecy3. I could bring her back with me and let her slip away in the crowds at one of the big stations.
It was a wild, windy night, a waning4 moon showing between long streamers of clouds. By the time I struck the New Jersey5 shore—after maddening delays in the garage and at the ferry—it was getting on for one, and the clouds had spread black over the sky. It was a fiendish ride for a man on fire as I was. For miles the road looped through a country as dark as a pocket, broken with ice-skimmed pools and deep-driven ruts. In the daylight I could have made the whole distance inside an hour, but it was after two when I came to the branch line junction6 and turned up the long winding7 road that led over the hills to the Azalea Woods Estates.
As I sighted the little red-roofed station and the houses dotted over the tract8, the moon came out and I slowed up, having no idea where the cottage was or what it looked like. The place was quiet as the grave, the light sleeping on the pale walls of the stucco villas9 backed by the wooded darkness of the hills.
I was preparing to get out and rouse one of the slumbering10 inhabitants when I heard the voices of women. They were coming down a side road and looking up it I saw three figures moving toward me, their shadows slanting11 black in front of them. At the gate of a large, white-walled house, two of them turned in, their good-nights clear on the frosty air, and the third advanced in my direction. I could see her skirts, light-colored below her long dark coat, and her head tied up in some sort of scarf. By their clothes and voices I judged them to be servant girls coming back from a party.
As she approached I hailed her with a careful question:
"I beg your pardon, but I think I'm lost. Can you tell me where I am?"
"I can," she said, drawing up by the car. "You're in the Azalea Woods Estates."
"Oh, I am a bit out of my way. The Azalea Woods Estates," I surveyed the scattered13 houses and wide-cut avenues, "I've heard of them but never seen them before. Doesn't a Mrs. Whitehall live here?"
The girl smiled; she had a pleasant, good-natured face.
"She surely does—in the Regan cottage over beyond the crest14 there. I'm living with her, doing the heavy work, until she gets settled. I belong on the big farm, but as she was lonesome and had no girl I said I'd come over and stay till her daughter joined her."
"Her daughter, eh? Isn't her daughter with her now?"
"No, sir. She's coming tomorrow afternoon, then I'm going home. We'll have the cottage all ready for her. She's not expected till the 2.40 from town. Do you know the ladies?"
I bent16 over the wheel, afraid even by that pale light my face might show too much. Molly had made a mistake, sent me out here on a fruitless quest, wasted three or four precious hours. I could have wrung17 her neck. I heard my voice veiled and husky as I answered:
"Only by hearsay18. I knew Miss Whitehall was the head of the enterprise, that's all. Er—er—it's Azalea I'm aiming for. How do I get there?"
She laughed.
"Well you are out of your way. You'll have to go back to the Junction on the main line. Then follow the road straight ahead and you'll strike Azalea—about twenty miles farther on."
"Thank you," I said and began to back the car for the turn.
"No thanks," she answered and as I swung around called out a cheery "Good night."
That ride back—shall I ever forget it! It was as if an evil genius was halting me by every means malevolence19 could devise. Before I reached the highway the moon disappeared and the darkness settled down like a blanket. The wind was in my face this way and it stung till the water ran out of my eyes. Squinting20 through tears I had to make out the line of the road, black between black hedges and blacker fields. I went as fast as I dared—nothing must happen to me that night for if I failed her, Carol was lost. With the desire to let the car out as if I was competing in the Vanderbilt Cup Race, I had to slow down for corners and creep through the long winding ways that threaded the woods.
And finally—in a barren stretch without a light or a house in sight a tire blew out! I won't write about it—what's the use? It's enough to say it was nearly six, and the East pale with the new day, when I rushed into Jersey City. I was desperate then, and police or no police, flashed like a gray streak21 through the town to the ferry.
On the boat I had time to think. I decided22 to phone her, tell her I was coming and to be dressed and ready. I could still get her off three or four hours ahead of them. I stopped at the first drug store and called her up. The wait seemed endless, then a drawling, nasal voice said, "I can't raise the number. Lenox 1360 don't answer." I got back in the car with my teeth set—sleeping so sound on this morning of all mornings! Poor, unsuspecting Carol!
The day was bright, the slanting sun rays touching23 roofs and chimneys, when I ran up along the curb24 at her door. An old man in a dirty jumper who was sweeping25 the sidewalk, stopped as he saw me leap out and run up the steps. The outer door was shut and as I turned I almost ran into him, standing26 at my heels with his broom in his hand. He said he was the janitor27, took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the door, fastening the two leaves back as I pressed her bell.
There was no answering click of the latch28 and I tried the inner door—fast, and all my shaking failed to budge29 it.
"Isn't Miss Whitehall here?" I said, turning on the man who was watching me interestedly.
"Sure," he answered. "Anyways she was last night. She talked to me down the dumbwaiter at seven and told me she wasn't going till this afternoon."
"Open the door," I ordered, speaking as quietly as I could. "She's probably asleep—I've an important message for her, and I want to give it now before I go downtown."
He did as I told him and I ran up the stairs, and pressed the electric button at her door. As I waited I heard the janitor's slow steps pounding up behind me, but from the closed apartment there was not a sound.
"She ain't there, I guess," he said as he gained the landing. "She must have gone last night."
I turned on him:
"Have you a key for this apartment?"
"I've a key for every apartment," he answered, holding out the bunch in his hand.
"Then open the door. If she's not here I've got to know it."
He inserted a key in the lock and in a minute we were inside. The morning light filtered in through drawn30 blinds, showing a deserted31 place, left in the chaos32 of a hasty move. Everything was in disorder33, trunks open, furniture stacked and covered. The curtains to the front bedroom that I'd always seen closed were pulled back, revealing the evidences of a hurried packing, clothes on the bed, bureau drawers half out, a purple silk thing lying in a heap on the floor.
She was gone, gone in wild haste, gone like one who leaves on a summons as imperative34 as the call of death—or love!
"She's evidently gone to her mother or some friend for the night," I said carelessly. "She'll be back again to finish it up."
The janitor agreed and asked if I'd leave a message. No, I'd phone up later. I cautioned him to keep my visit quiet and he nodded understandingly—took me for a desperate lover, which Heaven knows I was. But in order to run no risks of his speaking to those who would follow me, I sealed his lips with a bill that left him speechless and bowing to the ground.
I was in my own apartment before Joanna and David were up, ready to be called to breakfast from what they, in their fond old hearts, thought was a good night's rest. Sitting on the side of my bed, with my head in my hands, I struggled for the coolness that day would need. Of course she'd gone to Barker—nothing else explained it. The state of the apartment proved she had intended leaving for the cottage, her mother had unquestionably expected her, not a soul in the world but myself could have warned her. Only another command from the man who ruled her life could account for her disappearance35. Some time that night she had heard from him, and once again had gone to join him. I tried to dull my pain with the thought that she was safe, kept whispering it over and over, and through it and under it like the unspoken anguish36 of a nightmare went the other, "She's with him, flown to him, in his arms."
There was fury in me against every man in the Whitney office, but I could no more have kept away from it than I could have from her if she'd been near me. At nine o'clock I was there and found the chief, George and O'Mally already assembled. The air was charged with excitement, the long, slow work had reached its climax37, the bloodhounds were in sight of the quarry38. I could see the assurance of victory in their faces, hear it in the triumphant39 note of their voices. I don't think any man has ever stood higher in my esteem40 than Wilbur Whitney, but that morning, with the machinery41 of his devising ready to close on his victim, I hated him.
Immediately after I arrived they sent a phone message to her. I sat back near the window, to all intents and purposes a quiet, unobtrusive member of the quartette. When the reply came that the number didn't answer they concluded she was out, arranging for her departure that afternoon. The second message went at 9.30, and on the receipt of the same answer, a slight, premonitory uneasiness was visible. A third call was sent a few minutes before ten and this time central volunteered the information that "Lenox 1360 wasn't answering at all that morning."
The chief and O'Mally kept their pose of an unruffled confidence, but George couldn't fake it—he was wild-eyed with alarm. After a few minutes' consultation42 O'Mally was sent off to find out what was up, leaving the chief musing43 in his big chair and George swinging like a pendulum44 from room to room. I had to listen to him—he only got grunts45 from his father—and it took pretty nearly all the control I had to answer the stream of questions and surmises46 he deluged47 me with.
When O'Mally came back with the news that the bird had flown, the fall of the triumph of Whitney & Whitney was dire12 and dreadful. The announcement was met by dead silence, then George burst out sentences of sputtering49 fury, heads would drop in the basket after this. Even the chief was shaken out of his stolidity50, rising from his chair, a terrible, old figure, fierce and bristling51 like an angry lion. I don't think in the history of the firm they'd ever had a worse jar, a more complete collapse52 in the moment of victory.
But O'Mally and the old man were too tried and seasoned timber to let their rage stand in the way. The detective had hardly finished before they were up at the table getting at their next move. All were agreed that she had had another communication from Barker and had gone to him. They saw it as I had—as anyone who knew the circumstances would. The first message had been by phone, the second might have been, and there was the shade of a possibility that she might have phoned back. If she had there would be a record, easily traced. The power of the Whitney office stretched far and through devious53 channels. In fifteen minutes the machinery was started to have the records of all out of town messages sent from Lenox 1360 within the last week turned in to Whitney & Whitney.
It was what I'd feared, but I was powerless, also I thought the chances were in her favor. Barker, no matter how he loved her, might not dare to trust her with his telephone number. Judging by the way he had frustrated54 all our efforts to find him, he was taking no risks. It would have been in keeping with his unremitting caution to hold all communications with her by letter. That kept me quiet, kept me from bursting out on them as they schemed and plotted close drawn round the table.
The next move was suggested by the chief—to find Mrs. Whitehall and bring her to the office. In default of the daughter they would try the mother. All were of the opinion that the older woman was ignorant of the murder, but it was possible that she might know something of her daughter's movements. And even if she didn't, that attack by surprise which was to have broken down Carol Whitehall might, tried in a lesser55 degree, draw forth56 some illuminating57 facts from her mother. It was nearly midday when George and O'Mally set out in a high-powered motor for the Azalea Woods Estates.
I spent the next few hours in my own office, sitting at the desk. Every nerve was as tight as a violin string, hope and dread48 changing places in my mind. Awful hours, now when I look back on them. The whole thing hung on a chance. If her recent communications with Barker had been by letter, if her mother knew nothing, there was a fighting hope for her. But if she knew his number and had phoned—if her flight had been planned and Mrs. Whitehall did know! I remembered her as I'd seen her in the country, a fragile, melancholy58 woman. What chance had she with the men pitted against her?
I don't know what time it was, but the sun had swung round to the window, when I heard steps in the passage and a woman's voice, high and quavering. I leaped up and entered the chief's office by one door as Mrs. Whitehall, George and O'Mally came in by the other.
She looked pale and shriveled. I didn't then know what they'd said to her, whether they'd already tried their damnable third degree. But they hadn't, all they had done was to tell her her daughter had been wanted at the Whitney office and couldn't be found. That scared her, she'd come with them at once, only insisting that they stop at the flat and let her see that Carol was not there. This they did, admitting afterward59 that her surprise and alarm struck them as absolutely genuine.
These emotions were plain on her face; any fool could see she was racked with fear and anxiety. It was stamped on her features, it was in her wildly questioning eyes.
"Mr. Whitney," she said, without preamble60 or greeting, "what does this mean? Where is my daughter?"
The old man was as courteous61 as ever, but under the studied urbanity of his manner, I could feel the knife-edged sharpness that only cut through when his blood was up.
"That is what we want to know from you, Mrs. Whitehall. We needed some information from your daughter this morning and we find that she has—I think I may say, fled. Where to, surely you, her mother, must know."
"No," she cried, her hollow eyes riveted62 on his. "No. She was coming to me this afternoon, everything was arranged, ready and waiting. And now she's gone, and you, you men here, want to find her. What is it? There's something strange, something I don't know." Her glance moved over the watching faces. They were ominously63 unresponsive. Where she looked for hope or help she saw nothing but a veiled menace, every moment growing clearer.
"What is it?" she cried, her voice rising to a higher note, shrill64 and shaking. "What is the matter? Tell me. You know—you know something you're hiding from me?"
"We think that of you, Mrs. Whitehall," said the chief, ponderous65 and lowering, "and we want to hear it. The time has come for frankness. Hold nothing back for, as you say, we know."
"Then for God's sake tell me. Where has she gone?"
"To join her lover, Johnston Barker."
If he expected to have it strike with an impact he was not disappointed. She fell back as if threatened by a blow, and for a second stood transfixed, aghast, her lower jaw68 dropped, staring at him. Amazement69 isn't the word for the look on her face, it was a stupefaction, a paralysis70 of astonishment71. The shock was so violent it swept away all anxiety for her daughter, but it also snapped the last frail72 remnant of her nerve. From her pale lips her voice broke in a wild, hysterical73 cry:
"Her lover! He was her father!"
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
implored
|
|
| 恳求或乞求（某人）( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
secrecy
|
|
| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
waning
|
|
| adj.（月亮）渐亏的，逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
jersey
|
|
| n.运动衫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
junction
|
|
| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
winding
|
|
| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
tract
|
|
| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
villas
|
|
| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
slumbering
|
|
| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
slanting
|
|
| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
dire
|
|
| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
scattered
|
|
| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
crest
|
|
| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
smothered
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hearsay
|
|
| n.谣传，风闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
malevolence
|
|
| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
squinting
|
|
| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
streak
|
|
| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
curb
|
|
| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sweeping
|
|
| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
janitor
|
|
| n.看门人，管门人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
latch
|
|
| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
budge
|
|
| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
drawn
|
|
| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
disorder
|
|
| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
imperative
|
|
| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
disappearance
|
|
| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
climax
|
|
| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
quarry
|
|
| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
esteem
|
|
| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
machinery
|
|
| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
consultation
|
|
| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
pendulum
|
|
| n.摆，钟摆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
grunts
|
|
| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
surmises
|
|
| v.臆测，推断( surmise的第三人称单数 )；揣测；猜想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
deluged
|
|
| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
dread
|
|
| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
sputtering
|
|
| n.反应溅射法；飞溅；阴极真空喷镀；喷射v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的现在分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
stolidity
|
|
| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
bristling
|
|
| a.竖立的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
collapse
|
|
| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
devious
|
|
| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
frustrated
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
lesser
|
|
| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
illuminating
|
|
| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
preamble
|
|
| n.前言；序文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
courteous
|
|
| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
riveted
|
|
| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
ominously
|
|
| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
ponderous
|
|
| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
jaw
|
|
| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
paralysis
|
|
| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
astonishment
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
frail
|
|
| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
hysterical
|
|
| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |