Clarice was not within, and Mrs. Rebson was puzzled. She hunted through the other rooms on the same floor, and at length came to Ferdy's apartment. Here she found the room in disorder2, and Clarice lying on the carpet in a dead faint. Considerably3 alarmed, Mrs. Rebson got water and vinegar and sal volatile4, and all such-like aids to insensible people. Shortly Clarice revived and sat up with a dazed look. But as soon as a memory of what she had found came back to her with a rush, she struggled to her feet, and crushed up the scrap5 of shaving-paper upon which she had impressed the fern. The stamp itself she had held closely in her left hand all the time she was insensible, so she did not think that her dim-eyed old nurse had seen anything. More than that, Mrs. Rebson ascribed to the London trip this unexampled behaviour on the part of the girl. Never before had strong-minded Clarice Baird lost her senses.
"Come and lie down, deary," coaxed6 Mrs. Rebson, leading the girl back to her own room; "you're fairly worn out with gadding7 about that nasty London. I'll bring you up some tea."
"Do, Nanny," said Clarice, faintly, and when the nurse left the room, she lay passively upon her bed.
What she felt at the moment no one knew, and no one could ever know. The stamp of the Purple Fern was inseparably connected with the many murders, and that it should be in Ferdy's bedroom, hidden away so carefully, seemed terrible and inexplicable8. Ferdy could not have murdered his guardian9, since he had been locked up in his room, and yet the stamp which had been used to impress the fatal mark on the forehead of the dead was in Ferdy's possession. Of course, Osip, who was really the murderer, might have had another stamp. Certainly he must have had another stamp, and no doubt each member of the triumvirate possessed10 a similar article. Ferdy was guiltless, and Osip had done the deed. And yet, how came it that Ferdy had this particular stamp in his possession? Clarice could have shrieked12 with fear and horror, and had to roll over on her pillow to prevent herself from crying out. And then another agonised thought came into her tormented13 mind.
Zara had told her to search Ferdy's room, therefore Zara must have known that the stamp was hidden away there. And if Zara knew, it was in her power to hang the poor boy. Poor boy--could even his own sister speak of him in that way, when he was connected with a callous14, cruel crime? He had not stabbed Horran with the assegai, since he had been locked in his room, but he must have impressed the Purple Fern on the dead man's forehead. Unless Osip--oh, yes, Osip must have done it, not Ferdy--not Ferdy--not Ferdy. And so the girl's distracted brain buzzed and droned with the hideous15 repetition of one word, "Guilt11! Guilt! Guilt!"
"I shall go mad," moaned Clarice. "What am I to do? I dare not tell Anthony. I dare not marry him. What is to be done--oh, great heavens, what is to be done?" Then it came into her mind that Zara had stated how Clarke had paid his midnight visit to the death-chamber, and at two o'clock. That was the time--according to the medical evidence--when the deed had been committed. Between one and two o'clock in the morning, Dr. Jerce had said at the inquest. And Clarke was there. If he was innocent himself, he might know who was guilty. He could not have seen Ferdy, who was bolted and barred in his bedroom; but he might have seen Osip kill Horran and impress that infernal seal of evil on the dead. Yes! She would see Clarke--she must see Clarke. There was no need for her to say what she had discovered. She would merely let Clarke speak. She would tax him with his visit, and to exonerate17 himself--if he was guiltless--he would certainly detail all that happened. If he mentioned Ferdy's name--but then he would not do that--he could not--he dare not. Ferdy could prove an alibi18. His sister could prove an alibi for him. Whomsoever killed Horran, her brother was, at least, innocent. And yet the stamp--the stamp of the Purple Fern. How could she explain that away?
"My! Miss Clarice, you do look bad," said Mrs. Rebson, entering with a dainty meal of tea and toast. "That nasty London. Here, drink the tea. You'll feel better soon, deary. And after all, you have saved Master Ferdy, haven't you, my deary little maid?"
Clarice winced19 and lied bravely. "Yes," she said, faintly; "I have saved Ferdy. You need have no fear, Nanny. Leave me for ten minutes."
Rather reluctantly the old woman departed, and Clarice forced herself to drink a cup of tea and to eat a morsel20 of toast. She would have to be strong, if Ferdy was to be saved. Zara knew the truth about the boy, and might tell the police. There was no one to save Ferdy, poor, weak, foolish creature, but his sister, and his sister would save him in the face of all obstacles. Clarice, therefore, fought with herself; she struggled desperately21 with her woman's weakness; she braced22 herself with prayer, and finally triumphed over the flesh by the strength of her spirit. When Mrs. Rebson stole back to the bedroom, she was amazed to see how rapidly her young mistress had recovered her presence of mind. She had left a pale-faced, tearful girl; she found a calm, self-contained woman.
"It's wonderful what tea and toast will do," Mrs. Rebson, with great complacency.
"Nanny," observed Clarice, who had now determined23 what to do; "send to Mr. Clarke, and tell him to see me this afternoon."
"You are not well enough, deary."
"I am. I must see him."
"But your hair, deary."
"What's the matter with--oh, yes." Clarice mechanically put her hand to her head. "It is rather awkward. But it is not too closely cropped, Nanny. Get out the hair I cut off, and we'll weave it into what I have left on my scalp."
Mrs. Rebson laughed at what she conceived was a joke, and between them they contrived24, very skilfully25, to fasten on the shorn tresses. As Ferdy usually wore his hair in a musician-like way, Clarice had imitated the cut, so it was not difficult to replace the severed26 locks in the style in which she generally wore them. Also, since she wished to still play the part of invalid27, she made Mrs. Rebson draw down the blinds and light the fire. Then, swathed in blankets and shawls, Clarice sat ready for the visit of the parson. She had failed to deceive Sir Daniel Jerce, but Mr. Clarke, being less clever and observant, and not a doctor, she felt certain that she would manage to trick him. Having thus arranged her stage, the anxious girl waited for the vicar.
Mr. Clarke appeared almost on the heels of the messenger, and looked more wild and wan28 than ever. With a weary air he shook hands with Miss Baird, and expressed his regret that she was suffering from influenza29. Then he sat down opposite to her and stared into the fire with lack-lustre eyes. Clarice had to break the ice. "Mr. Clarke," she said, hesitating, for it was not easy to begin; "I wish to speak to you about a very important matter----"
"I am quite at your service, Clarice."
"And one which touches your reputation," said the girl.
Mr. Clarke started and became paler than ever, as he cast a keen, wild look at the speaker. "I--I--I--don't understand," he stuttered.
"Carry your thoughts back to the night when Uncle Henry was murdered," said Clarice, significantly, "and you will understand."
The vicar considered for a few moments, and then shook his head. "No, I don't know what you mean. I thought--I thought," he moistened his dry lips, "I thought that you were going to speak of Frank. And I won't have his name mentioned," he ended, violently.
"I did not intend to speak of Frank," said Clarice, wondering why the memory of his dead son should so agitate30 him; "but of your visit to Uncle Henry's room on that night."
"Who said that I----"
"Oh, there is no need for me to give names," interrupted Clarice, in sharp tones, "but someone saw you leaving the bedroom at two in the morning. What were you doing there at that time?"
"Oh, yes, I remember." Mr. Clarke spoke32 in a dreamy way. "I should have spoken to the police about that. But Frank's wickedness put it quite out of my head. And then, of course, it looked awkward for me."
Clarice was almost too astonished to speak. That he should take the revelation so calmly perplexed33 her greatly. "How do you mean, that it looked awkward for you?" she asked, after an embarrassing pause.
"Going to see poor Horran at that hour," said Mr. Clarke, innocently; "and then seeing his dead body."
Clarice rose unsteadily. Was the man mad to admit what he had seen? She could not make any remark, but stared at him, tongue-tied. The vicar still continued dreamy and absent-minded. "And then I owed poor Horran one thousand pounds with interest," he went on, slowly; "some people might have said that I had murdered him."
Clarke looked up sharply, struck by the speech and the significance of her tones. "Innocent," he said, in a clear and vigorous voice, "I am innocent, of course. You never thought that I was guilty?"
"Well, the person who saw you----"
"Who was it?" asked Clarke, quickly.
"I decline to mention names."
"No matter! no matter! But I am surprised that you should believe me guilty of a wicked deed, Clarice. You have known me for years, yet it now seems that you do not know me at all."
"If you will explain----"
"Yes. I'll explain at once. I should have explained before--and to the police. But Frank's wickedness--Frank's death--oh!" he clasped his hands together in an agony of sorrow; "was ever a man tried so hardly as I have been? Hush35! Say nothing. Sit down. Let me collect my thoughts, and I'll tell you everything--that is, about my visit to poor Horran on that night. Nothing else need be talked about; my own affairs are--my own affairs."
Unable to remain seated, he rose, and walked up and down the room trying to compose himself. Clarice, wondering what he was about to say, resumed her seat and watched him in silence. After a time, Mr. Clarke recovered his self-control, and, still walking, he told her all that she wanted to know.
"I saw Horran one afternoon," he explained. "You remember what I said at the inquest. I noticed that the bedroom window was open, so I slipped in, anxious to gain time from Horran to pay the interest. I did not wish to be sold up, you know, so I told him everything, and he was very angry."
"With you?" questioned Clarice.
"Not with me; certainly not with me. Barras was in fault. He had told Barras to lend me the thousand pounds for as long as I required them. There was no question of interest, and when I mentioned the ten per cent., Horran declared that he knew nothing about that, and should have been told before, that such an interest had been charged. He had never intended that I should be hampered36 in that way. The loan was to be from a friend to a friend. It is strange," mused37 Clarke, "that in three years and more, Barras should never have mentioned to Horran that he had charged interest."
"He evidently charged the interest secretly," said Clarice, after a thoughtful pause, "and, naturally, would say nothing about it. And then you saw Uncle Henry frequently during those three years. Why did you not mention it yourself?"
"Horran never, during our earlier interviews, touched on the subject of the loan, and the matter was never discussed. It was only of late, when I found that I could not pay the interest, that I wished to speak of my difficulties, and then Jerce would not allow me to see my old friend."
"He was quite right," said Clarice, reproachfully, "seeing how ill Uncle Henry was, and you did upset him, you know."
"Barras upset him," expostulated the vicar. "He was angry with Barras, not with me, and declared that I should have spoken before. He also said that Jerce had no right to prevent my seeing him, and that there was no need for me to go to the front door. When I wished to see him, he said, I could enter by the French window, which was generally open."
"Yes, it was," said Miss Baird, thinking of the difference of opinion which existed between the two doctors; "but why did you choose so late an hour to enter by that way?"
Clarke hesitated and looked down. "I was much disturbed on the night of the crime. I had received bad news. Unable to sleep, I walked in my garden."
"On that bitterly cold night?"
"Oh, the thaw38 had come by that time, you know. I left my garden and walked about the town. I had no idea of going to see Horran, for at that time I knew that he would be asleep. However, I walked back to the vicarage up the lane, and saw a light in the bedroom and the window open."
"You are certain that it was open?" asked Clarice.
"I entered by it, as I thought I would see if Horran was asleep or awake, and then--"
"Well. Was he asleep or awake?"
"He was dead," said the vicar, with great emotion. "He was lying in bed with the clothes in disorder, and his breast streaming with blood."
"With the clothes in disorder," echoed Clarice, raising herself. "Why, when I saw poor Uncle Henry's corpse39, the clothes were carefully arranged and smoothed."
"I did that," said Mr. Clarke, in a broken voice. "I saw that he was dead, so I arranged the clothes and hastily went away, without touching40 anything in the room."
"Why did you not give the alarm?"
"Why!" cried Clarke, astonished; "when I might have been accused of committing the crime? Am I a fool, Clarice? My mere16 presence at such an hour would have accused me. No! I returned home, and said nothing about what I had seen. It was a few minutes past two o'clock when I regained41 my bed."
"And," Clarice asked the question in a low, anxious voice, "did you see anyone within or without the house?"
"No. I saw no one and heard nothing. Who was it saw me?"
"And why did she not accuse me?"
"Then Zara made a false accusation44, and I wonder that my daughter believed her."
"She did not at first," explained Clarice, "but Prudence found blood on the cuffs45 of a shirt you had worn."
"Very likely. When I was arranging the bedclothes of my murdered friend, the blood could easily have got on to the cuffs. So this was why Prudence gave up your brother; and I thought she did so because I wished it."
"Why did you wish it, Mr. Clarke? You were pleased, once."
"Yes," said the vicar, sadly, "for then I did not know what I know now."
"About Frank?"
"Never mention his name--never speak of him. I am not master of myself when I think--I think--" Mr. Clarke clutched his scanty46 locks with both hands and rushed suddenly from the room. Clarice did not wish to call him back, since she knew all that she wished to know. Clarke was innocent, and he had not set eyes upon her brother. So far Ferdy was safe. But who could have written that anonymous47 letter? Until the author of that was discovered, Clarice knew that she would have no peace of mind, as always she would be apprehensive48 lest Ferdy should be arrested.
All that afternoon Clarice puzzled over what was best to be done, and remained in her room with an aching head. Her feigned49 illness was rapidly turning to a real one, so sick did she feel with worry and anxiety. Then she received a surprise. Anthony's card was brought up, and Mrs. Rebson said that he was waiting for her in the drawing-room.
"Why is he here?" Clarice asked herself; then, hastily arranging her attire50, she went down, filled with nervous fears.
"Clarice," said Anthony, abruptly51, and coming forward with outstretched hands. "I have made a discovery--I must tell you at once what I have found out in Whitechapel."
"Have you been there? What about Ferdy?"
"I left him in charge of another fellow. He's still at Gattlinsands. Wait, I'll explain later. But my news. The consumptive chap attended by Jerce--one of the Purple Fern murderers, was--who do you think?--none other than Frank Clarke, the vicar's son."
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1
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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volatile
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| adj.反复无常的，挥发性的，稍纵即逝的，脾气火爆的；n.挥发性物质 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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7
gadding
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| n.叮搔症adj.蔓生的v.闲逛( gad的现在分词 )；游荡；找乐子；用铁棒刺 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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exonerate
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| v.免除责任，确定无罪 | |
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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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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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agitate
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| vi.(for,against)煽动，鼓动；vt.搅动 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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thaw
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| v.（使）融化，（使）变得友善；n.融化，缓和 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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44
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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45
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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scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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51
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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