When Beale left Krooman Mansions1 with his two companions he had only the haziest2 idea as to where he should begin his search. Perhaps the personal interest he had in his client, an interest revealed by the momentary3 panic into which her disappearance4 had thrown this usually collected young man, clouded his better judgment5.
A vague discomfort6 possessed7 him and he paused irresolutely8 at the corner of the street. There was a chance that she might still be concealed9 in the building, but a greater chance that if he followed one of the three plans which were rapidly forming in his mind he might save the girl from whatever danger threatened her.
"You are perfectly10 sure you heard her voice?"
"Certain," replied Beale shortly, "just as I am sure that I smelt11 the ether."
"She may have been using it for some other purpose. Women put these drugs to all sorts of weird12 purposes, like cleaning gloves, and----"
"That may be," interrupted Beale, "but I wasn't mistaken about her voice. I am not subject to illusions of that kind."
He whistled. A man who had been lurking13 in the shadow of a building on the opposite side of the road crossed to him.
"Fenson," said Beale, "watch these flats. If you see a car drive up just go along and stand in front of the door. Don't let anybody enter that car or carry any bundle into that car until you are sure that Miss Cresswell is not one of the party or the bundle. If necessary you can pull a gun--I know it isn't done in law-abiding London," he smiled at Superintendent14 McNorton, "but I guess you've got to let me do a little law-breaking."
"Go all the way," said the superintendent easily.
"That will do, Fenson. You know Miss Cresswell?"
"Sure, sir," said the man, and melted back into the shadows.
"Where are you going now?" asked Kitson.
"I am going to interview a gentleman who will probably give me a great deal of information about van Heerden's other residences."
"Has he many?" asked Kitson, in surprise.
Beale nodded.
"He has been hiring buildings and houses for the past three months," he said quietly, "and he has been so clever that I will defy you to trace one of them. All his hiring has been done through various lawyers he has employed, and they are all taken in fictitious15 names."
"Do you know any of them?"
"Not one," said Beale, with a baffled little laugh, "didn't I tell you he's mighty16 clever? I got track of two of them but they were the only two where the sale didn't go through."
"What does he want houses for?"
"We shall learn one of these days," said Beale cryptically17. "I can tell you something else, gentlemen, and this is more of a suspicion than a certainty, that there is not a crank scientist who has ever gone under through drink or crime in the whole of this country, aye, and America and France, too, that isn't working for him. And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me----"
"You don't want any assistance?" asked the superintendent.
"I guess not," said Beale, with a smile, "I guess I can manage the Herr Professor."
* * * * *
On the south side of the River Thames is a congested and thickly populated area lying between the Waterloo and the Blackfriars Roads. Here old houses, which are gauntly picturesque18 because of their age, stand cheek-by-jowl with great blocks of model dwellings19, which make up in utility all that they lack in beauty. Such dwelling-places have a double advantage. Their rent is low and they are close to the centre of London. Few of the houses are occupied by one family, and indeed it is the exception that one family rents in its entirety so much as a floor.
In a basement room in one of those houses sat two men as unlike one another as it is possible to conceive. The room itself was strangely tidy and bare of anything but the necessary furniture. A camp bed was under the window in such a position as to give its occupant a view of the ankles of those people who trod the pavement of the little street.
A faded cretonne curtain hid an inner and probably a smaller room where the elder of the men slept. They sat on either side of a table, a kerosene20 lamp placed exactly in the centre supplying light for their various occupations.
The elder of the two was bent21 forward over a microscope, his big hands adjusting the focus screw. Presently he would break off his work of observation and jot22 down a few notes in crabbed23 German characters. His big head, his squat24 body, his long ungainly arms, his pale face with its little wisp of beard, would have been recognized by Oliva Cresswell, for this was Professor Heyler--"the Herr Professor," as Beale called him.
The man sitting opposite was cast in a different mould. He was tall, spare, almost aesthetic25. The clean-shaven face, the well-moulded nose and chin hinted at a refinement26 which his shabby threadbare suit and his collarless shirt freakishly accentuated27. Now and again he would raise his deep-set eyes from the book he was reading, survey the absorbed professor with a speculative28 glance and then return to his reading.
They had sat in silence for the greater part of an hour, when Beale's tap on the door brought the reader round with narrow eyes.
"Expecting a visitor, professor?" he asked in German.
"Nein, nein," rambled29 the old man, "who shall visit me? Ah yes"--he tapped his fat forefinger--"I remember, the Fraeulein was to call."
He got up and, shuffling30 to the door, slipped back the bolt and turned it. His face fell when he saw Beale, and the man at the table rose.
"Hope I am not disturbing you," said the detective. "I thought you lived alone."
He, too, spoke31 in the language which the professor understood best.
"That is a friend of mine," said old Heyler uncomfortably, "we live together. I did not think you knew my address."
"Introduce me," said the man at the table coolly.
The old professor looked dubiously32 from one to the other.
"It is my friend, Herr Homo."
"Herr Homo," repeated Beale, offering his hand, "my name is Beale."
Homo shot a keen glance at him.
"A split! or my criminal instincts fail me," he said, pleasantly enough.
"Split?" repeated Beale, puzzled.
"American I gather from your accent," said Mr. Homo; "pray sit down. 'Split' is the phrase employed by the criminal classes to describe a gentleman who in your country is known as a 'fly cop'!"
"Oh, a detective," smiled Beale. "No, in the sense you mean I am not a detective. At any rate, I have not come on business."
"So I gather," said the other, seating himself, "or you would have brought one of the 'busy fellows' with you. Here again you must pardon the slang but we call the detective the 'busy fellow' to distinguish him from the 'flattie,' who is the regular cop. Unless you should be under any misapprehension, Mr. Beale, it is my duty to tell you that I am a representative of the criminal classes, a fact which our learned friend," he nodded toward the distressed33 professor, "never ceases to deplore," and he smiled blandly34.
They had dropped into English and the professor after waiting uncomfortably for the visitor to explain his business had dropped back to his work with a grunt35.
"I am Parson Homo and this is my _pied-a-terre_. We professional criminals must have somewhere to go when we are not in prison, you know."
The voice was that of an educated man, its modulation36, the confidence and the perfect poise37 of the speaker suggested the college man.
"So that you shall not be shocked by revelations I must tell you that I have just come out of prison. I am by way of being a professional burglar."
"I am not easily shocked," said Beale.
He glanced at the professor.
"I see," said Parson Homo, rising, "that I am _de trop_. Unfortunately I cannot go into the street without risking arrest. In this country, you know, there is a law which is called the Prevention of Crimes Act, which empowers the unemployed38 members of the constabulary who find time hanging on their hands to arrest known criminals on suspicion if they are seen out in questionable39 circumstances. And as all circumstances are questionable to the unimaginative 'flattie,' and his no less obtuse40 friend the 'split,' I will retire to the bedroom and stuff my ears with cotton-wool."
"You needn't," smiled Beale, "I guess the professor hasn't many secrets from you."
"Go on guessing, my ingenious friend," said the parson, smiling with his eyes, "my own secrets I am willing to reveal but--_adios!_"
He waved his hand and passed behind the cretonne curtain and the old man looked up from his instrument.
"It is the Donovan Leichmann body that I search for," he said solemnly; "there was a case of sleeping-sickness at the docks, and the Herr Professor of the Tropical School so kindly41 let me have a little blood for testing."
"Professor," said Beale, sitting down in the place which Parson Homo had vacated and leaning across the table, "are you still working for van Heerden?"
The old man rolled his big head from side to side in an agony of protest.
"Of the learned doctor I do not want to speak," he said, "to me he has been most kind. Consider, Herr Peale, I was starving in this country which hates Germans and regard as a mad old fool and an ugly old devil, and none helped me until the learned doctor discovered me. I am a German, yes. Yet I have no nationality, being absorbed in the larger brotherhood42 of science. As for me I am indifferent whether the Kaiser or the Socialists43 live in Potsdam, but I am loyal, Herr Peale, to all who help me. To you, also," he said hastily, "for you have been most kind, and once when in foolishness I went into a room where I ought not to have been you saved me from the police." He shrugged44 his massive shoulders again. "I am grateful, but must I not also be grateful to the learned doctor?"
"Tell me this, professor," said Beale, "where can I find the learned doctor to-night?"
"At his so-well-known laboratory, where else?" asked the professor.
"Where else?" repeated Beale.
The old man was silent.
"It is forbidden that I should speak," he said; "the Herr Doctor is engaged in a great experiment which will bring him fortune. If I betray his secrets he may be ruined. Such ingratitude45, Herr Peale!"
There was a silence, the old professor, obviously distressed and ill at ease, looking anxiously at the younger man.
"Suppose I tell you that the Herr Doctor is engaged in a dangerous conspiracy," said Beale, "and that you yourself are running a considerable risk by assisting him?"
The big hands were outspread in despair.
"The Herr Doctor has many enemies," mumbled46 Heyler. "I can tell you nothing, Herr Peale."
"Tell me this," said Beale: "is there any place you know of where the doctor may have taken a lady--the young lady into whose room you went the night I found you?"
"A young lady?" The old man was obviously surprised. "No, no, Herr Peale, there is no place where a young lady could go. Ach! No!"
"Well," said Beale, after a pause, "I guess I can do no more with you, professor." He glanced round at the cretonne recess47: "I won't inconvenience you any longer, Mr. Homo."
The curtains were pushed aside and the aesthetic-looking man stepped out, the half-smile on his thin lips.
"I fear you have had a disappointing visit," he said pleasantly, "and it is on the tip of your tongue to ask me if I can help you. I will save you the trouble of asking--I can't."
Beale laughed.
"You are a bad thought-reader," he said. "I had no intention of asking you."
He nodded to the old man, and with another nod to his companion was turning when a rap came at the door. He saw the two men exchange glances and noted48 in the face of the professor a look of blank dismay. The knock was repeated impatiently.
"Permit me," said Beale, and stepped to the door.
"Wait, wait," stammered49 the professor, "if Mr. Peale will permit----"
He shuffled50 forward, but Beale had turned the latch51 and opened the door wide. Standing52 in the entrance was a girl whom he had no difficulty in recognizing as Hilda Glaum, sometime desk companion of Oliva Cresswell. His back was to the light and she did not recognize him.
"Why did you not open more quickly?" she asked in German, and swung the heavy bag she carried into the room, "every moment I thought I should be intercepted53. Here is the bag. It will be called for to-morrow----"
It was then that she saw Beale for the first time and her face went white.
"Who--who are you?" she asked; then quickly, "I know you. You are the man Beale. The drunken man----"
She looked from him to the bag at her feet and to him again, then before he could divine her intention she had stooped and grasped the handle of the bag. Instantly all his attention was riveted54 upon that leather case and its secret. His hand shot out and gripped her arm, but she wrenched55 herself free. In doing so the bag was carried by the momentum56 of its release and was driven heavily against the wall. He heard a shivering crash as though a hundred little glasses had broken simultaneously57.
Before he could reach the bag she snatched it up, leapt through the open door and slammed it to behind her. His hand was on the latch----
"Put 'em up, Mr. Beale, put 'em up," said a voice behind him. "Right above your head, Mr. Beale, where we can see them."
He turned slowly, his hands rising mechanically to face Parson Homo, who still sat at the table, but he had discarded his Greek book and was handling a business-like revolver, the muzzle58 of which covered the detective.
"Smells rotten, doesn't it?" said Homo pleasantly.
Beale, too, had sniffed59 the musty odour, and knew that it came from the bag the girl had wrenched from his grasp. It was the sickly scent60 of the Green Rust61!
收听单词发音 |
1
mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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haziest
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| 有薄雾的( hazy的最高级 )； 模糊的； 不清楚的； 糊涂的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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irresolutely
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| adv.优柔寡断地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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cryptically
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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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dwellings
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| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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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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jot
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| n.少量；vi.草草记下；vt.匆匆写下 | |
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crabbed
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| adj.脾气坏的；易怒的；（指字迹）难辨认的；（字迹等）难辨认的v.捕蟹( crab的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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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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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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modulation
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| n.调制 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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unemployed
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| adj.失业的，没有工作的；未动用的，闲置的 | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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obtuse
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| adj.钝的；愚钝的 | |
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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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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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ingratitude
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| n.忘恩负义 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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49
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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50
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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51
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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52
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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53
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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riveted
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| 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 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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56
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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59
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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60
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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