However, Clarice did not trouble her head much about the matter, although the facts of Mr. Horran (according to Ackworth) having been in the company of Osip at the Shah's Rooms, and the curious observation of Zara to Ferdy, might have urged her to make enquiries. Still, there was no mystery about the death, save the want of a motive, and, therefore, there was nothing to unravel3. Horran was dead, the hue4 and cry was out against his assassin, and two days after the inquest the funeral took place. Owing to the publicity5 of the death, and the respect in which Horran was held by his fellow-townsmen, there was a great crowd at the cemetery6. Ferdy acted as chief mourner along with Dr. Jerce, the life-long friend of the deceased, and Mr. Clarke read the burial service. Clarice, according to custom, stopped at home while her unfortunate guardian7 was being laid in his untimely grave. It was then that she remembered Zara's observation, and wondered anew what it meant.
Did the girl mean that now Osip was accused there could be no danger to Ferdy? Clarice asked herself this question, but without receiving any answer from her consciousness. The facts of the murder were sufficiently8 plain, save as to the motive, so in any case it had nothing to do with Ferdy. Moreover, if Zara meant that Ferdy was implicated9 in the matter--and on the face of it that seemed absurd--such an accusation10, if made, could be rebutted11 by Clarice herself, since she had locked Ferdy in his room on the night when the purposeless crime was committed. Miss Baird used the word purposeless because she could not conjecture12 why Horran should have been killed in so tragic13 a manner. Unless, of course, the motive for the committal of the crime was connected with Horran's acquaintanceship with Osip. Why the dead man had been at the Shah's Rooms, and in Osip's company, was yet to be explained, but only the assassin could give the reason for that secret visit to London, and he was not likely to come forward, considering that there was a price on his head. Clarice, at the suggestion of Dr. Jerce, had offered a reward of two hundred pounds for the apprehension14 of the man in grey, and the London detective, Sims, had gone back to Town with the firm determination to win that sum of money. But he admitted to Miss Baird herself, with a rueful smile, that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack to capture the remaining member of the Purple Fern Triumvirate.
As yet Barras had not put in an appearance, although he had been expected to be present at the funeral. A telegram from him stated that he would be down immediately afterwards, and would come to The Laurels15 to read the will of the deceased. There had been some difficulty in finding Mr. Barras in Paris, and only at the eleventh hour had he returned to England.
Meanwhile Clarice, in deep mourning, sat in the drawing-room waiting for the arrival of the solicitor16, and for the return of the funeral party. Ackworth had not come over to attend, as stern duty compelled him to go to Southampton with a draft of men for India. But he promised to return as soon as he was able. Clarice anxiously expected him, as she had much to say about the property and about their marriage. Especially about the latter, as, since the death of Horran, Dr. Jerce had too openly displayed his interest in the girl. It was, therefore, necessary to put an end to the doctor's hopes by announcing her engagement to Captain Ackworth.
While Clarice thought of these things, Mrs. Rebson, at her elbow, kept up a cheerful conversation about the truths enshrined in the pages of The Domestic Prophet. "One thing's come true, Miss," she said, briskly; "I only hope the other won't."
"What other?" asked Miss Baird, listlessly.
"Why, the disgrace, Miss. We had the death to an elderly man, who should have been beware of the midnight hour--death by a knife, too."
"Only it was an assegai," retorted Clarice, scornfully; "your prophet made a mistake in the weapon."
"The Domestic Prophet doesn't condescend17 to tell everything," said Mrs. Rebson, much offended, "but you can't say but what the murder hasn't taken place."
"No," sighed the girl, "poor Uncle Henry."
"We've had death and sorrow," went on the housekeeper18, relentlessly19, "and disgrace has still to come."
"Disgrace! What nonsense."
"So you said before, Miss. Don't scoff20, when you know what's happened. Disgrace must come, as The Domestic Prophet plainly says." She turned over a few pages, and cleared her throat to read:--"If a crime of any nature has been committed by any person during the months of December, January, or February, that person, if hanged, will assuredly bring disgrace on those nearest and dearest to them. Let degenerates21 beware, says the seer."
"Oh, what rubbish."
Mrs. Rebson put the book in her pocket, took her spectacles off her nose, and rose in a stately manner. "Death has come," she said, in her most scathing22 voice. "Sorrow has come. You scoffed23 at both, being hard of heart. Now disgrace will befall this house, and----"
"How can it?" asked Clarice, impatiently. "Osip doesn't belong to this house or to us. The disgrace falls on him since he is guilty."
Mrs. Rebson had no answer for this, so retreated with dignity, her faith in the Domestic Prophet still unshaken "Mark my words, Miss Clarice, disgrace is coming," and with that she left the room, much to the relief of Miss Baird, who was very weary of the gimcrack sayings and pinchbeck philosophy which Mrs. Rebson set such store by.
Scarcely had Mrs. Rebson departed, when Ferdy entered by the window. He looked tall and slim in his deep mourning, and very well content with himself. His grief for the guardian, who had been so kind to him, was apparently24 swallowed up by the reflection that he could soon be enjoying two thousand a year. His first glance round the drawing-room was in search of Barras.
"Where's that lawyer chap?" asked Ferdy, producing a cigarette.
"He has not arrived yet," replied Clarice, rather disgusted at this want of feeling. "How can you talk so, Ferdy, when poor Uncle Henry is just buried? Tell me about the funeral."
"There's nothing to tell," said Ferdy, flinging himself into the most comfortable armchair; "it was much the same as other funerals."
"You have no heart, Ferdy."
"And no money," retorted the youth, coolly; "but that will soon be remedied, thank heaven."
Clarice could not help smiling to herself, in spite of her grief, when she thought of how Ferdy would be disappointed. It then occurred to her that he had some especial desire in wanting the money so badly, and, pending25 the arrival of the lawyer, she asked questions. "I suppose you want your two thousand a year in order to marry Prudence26."
"Perhaps," said Ferdy, cautiously.
"Perhaps," echoed his sister, raising herself angrily. "Why, you have proposed to Prudence."
"I know that, and I love Prudence. All the same, a proposal doesn't invariably mean marriage."
"Oh," said Clarice, in disgust. "Then you still hanker after Zara?"
Ferdy lighted his cigarette calmly. "I don't know what you're talking about," he observed, obstinately27.
"Mrs. Rebson says that you are always at the Savoy Hotel."
"She had better mind her own business, the interfering28 old cat," was Ferdy's retort; "besides, Zara doesn't always live there."
"She lives in town, and so do you, I know, Ferdy; I dare say you see a lot of her there."
"Oh! Has Jerce told you so?"
"No. But I am certain that you are familiar with her."
"Are you, indeed?" said Ferdy, in an aggravating29 tone, "and on what grounds, since you are so clever?"
Clarice leaned forward. "I heard Zara say to you immediately after the inquest that, as Osip was accused, there could be no danger."
This time Ferdy was startled. He dropped his cigarette and bent30 down to pick it up, and to hide the sudden rush of colour which came to his cheeks. "Did you hear anything else?" he asked, hesitating.
"No. But I want to know the meaning of the sentence I did hear."
Ferdy rose and paced the drawing-room, shrugging his shoulders. "What an inquisitive31 girl you are," he said, carelessly. "Zara only meant that as Osip was accused, there would be no danger of any other murder being committed."
This sounded a plausible32 enough explanation, yet Clarice doubted its truth. "That is not the meaning," she said, impetuously.
"What is the meaning, then?" asked Ferdy, sharply.
"I don't know, unless she meant that you were free from danger."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Ferdy, angrily, and dropped his cigarette again. "Do you think that I have anything to do with the death of Uncle Henry?"
"Certainly not, seeing that I locked you up in your room on that night. All the same, I shouldn't be at all surprised if you knew this man Osip, and that he had influenced you in some way."
"I don't know Osip from Moses," said Ferdy, doggedly33. "All I saw of him was a glimpse on the night he searched Jerce, and then it was only a casual glance when passing him in the High Street. How could I possibly know such a blighter?"
"Uncle Henry might have introduced you."
Ferdy wheeled round in genuine amazement34. "Uncle Henry! Are you out of your senses, Clarry? You know Uncle Henry never went out of his room for years and years, and certainly this man in grey never came to The Laurels until the time he searched Jerce."
"Do you know the Shah's Rooms, Ferdy?"
"Yes; I sometimes go there," snapped Ferdy, unhesitatingly.
"You go there very often, I expect," said his sister, bitterly, "well then Anthony went there, and--"
"What!" scoffed Ferdy, "the immaculate Anthony!"
"He's no more immaculate than any other man. Besides, when he was there a couple or three months ago, he was not then engaged to me. But Anthony saw Uncle Henry with this man Osip."
Ferdy went quite white. "You--Anthony must be mistaken."
"No! Anthony didn't know Osip at the time--"
"And he doesn't know him now."
"He knows the looks of the man. The person with Uncle Henry at the Shah's Rooms was a tall, slim man with a criss-cross scar on his left cheek."
"That's Osip, true enough," muttered Ferdy, "judging from the glimpse I caught of him in the High Street and in a bad light. But it is quite absurd to say that Uncle Henry was at the Shah's Rooms. You know that his disease prevented him from leaving his room."
"We did not know what the disease was at the time," said Clarice, coolly. "There may be some mistake, as you say, but Anthony is too keen-eyed to make one. Did you ever see Uncle Henry in Town?"
"No, I never did."
"Did you ever see this Osip?"
"Not in Town," said Ferdy, truthfully, "but I saw him in the High Street on that night when Jerce was searched. Look here, Clarry, let us have an understanding, if you please. Do you accuse me of--"
"I accuse you of nothing," interrupted Clarice, rising, a trifle wearily. "Only the observation of Zara--"
"I have explained that."
"In a lame35 way. I am certain that you know nothing about the murder, Ferdy, as you were locked in and--"
"How dare you? how dare you?" burst out the young man, furiously red and angry. "Even to hint at such things is an insult to me. I am not a saint; all the same, I am not a devil."
"Don't excite yourself, Ferdy. We know that Osip is guilty, and that no blame attaches to you. But I fail to see why Zara should have made that observation to you."
"Go and ask her," snapped Ferdy, rudely.
"I don't speak to persons of that sort," said Clarice, icily.
"She's a good, decent, pretty, hard-working girl."
"What an array of adjectives. I never said that she was not. All I wish to know--and my desire to know is suggested by the chance observation I overheard--is, are you acquainted with Osip, or are you in any way influenced by Osip?"
"I am not. How dare you suggest such a silly thing? As to Uncle Henry having been at the Shah's Rooms; that's sheer rubbish."
Clarice walked thoughtfully to the window. "I dare say I am worrying myself unnecessarily," she observed. "There is no mystery about Uncle Henry's death, and Anthony may have made a mistake. But you do make me anxious, Ferdy, dear, with your wild ways. You are so unsophisticated, that I fear lest you should be led astray."
"I'm quite able to look after myself," fumed36 the young man, again producing his cigarette case, that unfailing resource in embarrassment37.
His sister sighed. Somehow, in everything that Ferdy said, or did, there lurked38 a doubtful note. But on reflection, she could not but confess that it seemed ridiculous to think that Ferdy knew an assassin. Only for the overheard whisper, Clarice would never have started so futile39 a conversation, and now wished to end it by confessing her fault. "I beg your pardon, Ferdy," she said, quietly, "but my anxiety for you must be my excuse."
Before Ferdy could accept her apology, and kiss her, as he seemed inclined to do, there was a furious barking outside, and the angry voice of a man. Clarice stepped out on to the terrace. "There's Jane at Dr. Jerce again," she said, hastily, and went to the rescue.
Jerce, with a very white and angry face, was repelling40 with his umbrella the assault of a tawny41 dog of the mongrel collie species, with savage42 white teeth and blazing topaz eyes. Jane--as the animal was called--cherished a deep hatred43 for Jerce, notwithstanding that he had been her former master, and had presented her to Miss Baird. On all occasions she attacked him, and was usually shut up when the doctor was expected. That Jane was lame in the left hind-leg did not prevent her from making furious darts44 at Jerce, until Clarice caught her deftly45 by the collar.
"That damned dog will be the death of me," said Jerce, when Jane, handed over to Ferdy, was dragged away, growling46 and snapping. "I beg your pardon for swearing, Miss Baird, but--"
"I am very sorry, doctor," said Clarice, leading the way back to the drawing-room. "Jane was shut up as usual, but must have got loose while the groom47 was at the funeral. I wonder why she hates you so?"
"I don't know," said Jerce, seating himself, and recovering his calmness. "I get on first-rate with dogs, but Jane never did like me. I gave her to you, Miss Baird, because she never would be friends with me. The she-devil--I beg your pardon again--but I am quite sure that Jane will kill me some day."
"Nonsense. Her bark is worse than her bite."
"Then I hope she won't bark again, that's all. Ungrateful beast, I picked her up in Whitechapel on a wet day, streaming with water and starving with hunger. She had a good home with me, until her temper made me get rid of her."
"Perhaps her lameness48 makes her fractious," said Clarice. "Jane is really a good-tempered dog as a rule."
"Her lameness," echoed Jerce, after a pause, and then smiled in an odd way. "Why, yes, Miss Baird. That might have something to do with her temper. However, now that she's tied up--"
"Shut up, you mean," said Ferdy, who had now returned.
"Let us say disposed of," observed the doctor, genially49, "and end the subject. Well, my dear Miss Baird," he added, gently, "now that our dear friend has been buried, we must learn how things are to be arranged."
"Mr. Barras will tell us that," said Clarice, glancing at the French clock on the mantelpiece. "He has not yet come!"
"He'll be here in a few moments," said Jerce, cheerily. "I saw him walking up the High Street. Ah!"--as there came a sharp ring at the front door--"there he is. Do you want me to remain?"
"Yes, do," urged Clarice; "both Ferdy and I would like you to be present at the reading of the will. You are our best friend."
"I should like to be something nearer and dearer," breathed Jerce, as the door opened, and Clarice rose to welcome the lawyer.
She pretended that she had not heard him, but he guessed that she had, from the flush which coloured her fair face. But by this time Barras was shaking hands with the two young people, and bowed politely to the famous doctor. "I am glad you're here, sir," he observed, sitting down and laying aside a black bag. "I want to ask you a question."
"What is it?" demanded Jerce, looking surprised. "You knew my late client, Mr. Horran, intimately?"
"Yes, for years and years. We were at school and college together."
"Then you would know."
"Know what?" asked Jerce, still more astonished.
"If my late client, Mr. Horran, was an honest man or a scoundrel."
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1
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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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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unravel
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| v.弄清楚（秘密）；拆开，解开，松开 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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implicated
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| adj.密切关联的；牵涉其中的 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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rebutted
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| v.反驳，驳回( rebut的过去式和过去分词 )；击退 | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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degenerates
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| 衰退，堕落，退化( degenerate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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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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apparently
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pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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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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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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repelling
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| v.击退( repel的现在分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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44
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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48
lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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