Oliva Cresswell awoke to consciousness as she was being carried up the stairs of the house. She may have recovered sooner, for she retained a confused impression of being laid down amidst waving grasses and of hearing somebody grunt1 that she was heavier than he thought.
Also she remembered as dimly the presence of Dr. van Heerden standing2 over her, and he was wearing a long grey dust-coat.
As her captor kicked open the door of her room she scrambled3 out of his arms and leant against the bed-rail for support.
"I'm all right," she said breathlessly, "it was foolish to faint, but--but you frightened me."
The man grinned, and seemed about to speak, but a sharp voice from the landing called him, and he went out, slamming the door behind him. She crossed to the bath-room, bathed her face in cold water and felt better, though she was still a little giddy.
Then she sat down to review the situation, and in that review two figures came alternately into prominence--van Heerden and Beale.
She was an eminently4 sane5 girl. She had had the beginnings of what might have been an unusually fine education, had it not been interrupted by the death of her foster-mother. She had, too, the advantage which the finished young lady does not possess, of having grafted6 to the wisdom of the schools the sure understanding of men and things which personal contact with struggling humanity can alone give to us.
The great problems of life had been sprung upon her with all their hideous7 realism, and through all she had retained her poise8 and her clear vision. Many of the phenomena9 represented by man's attitude to woman she could understand, but that a man who admittedly did not love her and had no other apparent desire than to rid himself of the incubus10 of a wife as soon as he was wed11, should wish to marry her was incomprehensible. That he had already published the banns of her marriage left her gasping12 at his audacity13. Strange how her thoughts leapt all the events of the morning: the wild rush to escape, the struggle with the hideously14 masked man, and all that went before or followed, and went back to the night before.
Somehow she knew that van Heerden had told her the truth, and that there was behind this act of his a deeper significance than she could grasp. She remembered what he had said about Beale, and flushed.
"You're silly, Matilda," she said to herself, employing the term of address which she reserved for moments of self-depreciation, "here is a young man you have only met half a dozen times, who is probably a very nice married policeman with a growing family and you are going hot and cold at the suggestion that you're in love with him." She shook her head reproachfully.
And yet upon Beale all her thoughts were centred, and however they might wander it was to Beale they returned. She could analyse that buoyancy which had asserted itself, that confidence which had suddenly become a mental armour15, which repelled16 every terrifying thought, to this faith she had in a man, who in a few weeks before she had looked upon as an incorrigible17 drunkard.
She had time for thought, and really, though this she did not acknowledge, she desperately18 needed the occupation of that thought. What was Beale's business? Why did he employ her to copy out this list of American and Canadian statistics? Why did he want to know all these hotels, their proprietors20, the chief of the police and the like? She wished she had her papers and books so that she might go on extracting that interminable list.
What would van Heerden do now? Would her attempted escape change his plans? How would he overcome the difficulty of marrying a girl who was certain to denounce him in the presence of so independent a witness as a clergyman? She would die before she married him, she told herself.
She could not rest, and walked about the room examining the framed prints and looking at the books, and occasionally walking to the glass above the dressing-chest to see if any sign was left of the red mark on her cheek where van Heerden's hand had fallen. This exercise gave her a curious satisfaction, and when she saw that the mark had subsided21 and was blending more to the colour of her skin she felt disappointed. Startled, she analysed this curious mental attitude and again came to Beale. She wanted Beale to see the place. She wanted Beale's sympathy. She wanted Beale's rage--she was sure he would rage.
She laughed to herself and for want of other and better amusement walked to the drawers in the dressing-bureau and examined their contents. They were empty and unlocked save one, which refused to respond to her tug22. She remembered she had a small bunch of keys in her bag.
"I am going to be impertinent. Forgive the liberty," she said, as she felt the lock give to the first attempt.
She pulled the drawer open. It contained a few articles of feminine attire23 and a thick black leather portfolio24. She lifted this out, laid it on the table and opened it. It was filled with foolscap. Written on the cover was the word "Argentine" and somehow the writing was familiar to her. It was a bold hand, obviously feminine.
"Where have I seen that before?" she asked, and knit her forehead.
She turned the first leaf and read:
"Alsigar Hotel, Fournos, Proprietor19, Miguel Porcorini. Index 2."
Her mouth opened in astonishment25 and she ran down the list. She took out another folder26. It was marked "Canada," and she turned the leaves rapidly. She recognized this work. It was the same work that Beale had given to her, a list of the hotels, their proprietors and means of conveyance27, but there was no reference to the police. And then it dawned upon her. An unusually long description produced certain characteristics of writing which she recognized.
"Hilda Glaum!" she said. "I wonder what this means!"
She examined the contents of the drawer again and some of them puzzled her. Not the little stack of handkerchiefs, the folded collars and the like. If Hilda Glaum was in the habit of visiting Deans Folly28 and used this room it was natural that these things should be here. If this were her bureau the little carton of nibs29 and the spare note book were to be expected. It was the steel box which set her wondering. This she discovered in the far corner of the drawer. If she could have imagined anything so fantastic she might have believed that the box had been specially30 made to hold the thing it contained and preserve it from the dangers of fire. The lid, which closed with a spring catch, released by the pressure of a tiny button, was perfectly31 fitted so that the box was in all probability air-tight.
She opened it without difficulty. The sides were lined with what seemed to be at first sight thick cardboard but which proved on closer inspection32 to be asbestos. She opened it with a sense of eager anticipation33, but her face fell. Save for a tiny square blue envelope at the bottom, the box was empty!
She lifted it in her hand to shake out the envelope and it was then that the idea occurred to her that the box had been made for the envelope, which refused to budge34 until she lifted one end with a hairpin35.
It was unsealed, and she slipped in her finger and pulled out--a pawn36 ticket!
She had an inclination37 to laugh which she checked. She examined the ticket curiously38. It announced the fact that Messrs. Rosenblaum Bros., of Commercial Road, London, had advanced ten shillings on a "Gents' Silver Hunter Watch," and the pledge had been made in the name of van Heerden!
She gazed at it bewildered. He was not a man who needed ten shillings or ten dollars or ten pounds. Why should he pledge a watch and why having pledged it should he keep the ticket with such care?
Oliva hesitated a moment, then slipped the ticket from its cover, put back the envelope at the bottom of the box and closed the lid. She found a hiding-place for the little square pasteboard before she returned the box and portfolio to the drawer and locked it.
There was a tap at the door and hastily she replaced the key in her bag.
"Come in," she said.
She recognized the man who stood in the doorway39 as he who had carried her back to the room.
There was a strangeness in his bearing which made her uneasy, a certain subdued40 hilarity41 which suggested drunkenness.
"Don't make a noise," he whispered with a stifled42 chuckle43, "if Gregory hears he'll raise fire."
She saw that the key was in the lock on the outside of the door and this she watched. But he made no attempt to withdraw it and closed the door behind him softly.
"My name is Bridgers," he whispered, "van Heerden has told you about me--Horace Bridgers, do you----?"
He took a little tortoiseshell box from the pocket of his frayed44 waistcoat and opened it with a little kick of his middle finger. It was half-full of white powder that glittered in a stray ray of sunlight. "Try a sniff," he begged eagerly, "and all your troubles will go--phutt!"
"Thank you, no"--she shook her head, looking at him with a perplexed45 smile--"I don't know what it is."
"It's the white terror," he chuckled46 again, "better than the green--not so horribly musty as the green, eh?"
"I'm not in the mood for terrors of any kind," she said, with a half-smile. She wondered why he had come, and had a momentary47 hope that he was ignorant of van Heerden's character.
"All right"--he stuffed the box back into his waistcoat pocket--"_you're_ the loser, you'll never find heaven on earth!"
She waited.
All the time he was speaking, it seemed to her that he was on the _qui vive_ for some interruption from below. He would stop in his speech to turn a listening ear to the door. Moreover, she was relieved to see he made no attempt to advance any farther into the room. That he was under the influence of some drug she guessed. His eyes glittered with unnatural48 brilliance49, his hands, discoloured and uncleanly, moved nervously50 and were never still.
"I'm Bridgers," he said again. "I'm van Heerden's best man--rather a come down for the best analytical51 chemist that the school ever turned out, eh? Doing odd jobs for a dirty Deutscher!" He walked to the door, opened it and listened, then tiptoed across the room to her.
"You know," he whispered, "you're van Heerden's girl--what is the game?"
"What is----?" she stammered52.
"What is the game? What is it all about? I've tried to pump Gregory and Milsom, but they're mysterious. Curse all mysteries, my dear. What is the game? Why are they sending men to America, Canada, Australia and India? Come along and be a pal53! Tell me! I've seen the office, I know all about it. Thousands of sealed envelopes filled with steamship54 tickets and money. Thousands of telegraph forms already addressed. You don't fool me!" He hissed55 the last words almost in her face. "Why is he employing the crocks and the throw-outs of science? Perrilli, Maxon, Boyd Heyler--and me? If the game's square why doesn't he take the new men from the schools?"
She shook her head, being, by now, less interested in such revelations as he might make, than in her own personal comfort. For his attitude was grown menacing ... then the great idea came to her. Evidently this man knew nothing of the circumstances under which she had come to the house. To him she was a wilful56 but willing assistant of the doctor, who for some reason or other it had been necessary to place under restraint.
"I will tell you everything if you will take me back to my home," she said. "I cannot give you proofs here."
She saw suspicion gather in his eyes. Then he laughed.
"That won't wash," he sneered--"you know it all. I can't leave here," he said; "besides, you told me last time that there was nothing. I used to watch you working away at night," he went on to the girl's amazement57. "I've sat looking at you for hours, writing and writing and writing."
She understood now. She and Hilda Glaum were of about the same build, and she was mistaken for Hilda by this bemused man who had, in all probability, never seen the other girl face to face.
"What made you run away?" he asked suddenly; but with a sudden resolve she brought him back to the subject he had started to discuss.
"What is the use of my telling you?" she asked. "You know as much as I."
"Only bits," he replied eagerly, "but I don't know van Heerden's game. I know why he's marrying this other girl, everybody knows that. When is the wedding?"
"What other girl?" she asked.
"Cresswell or Predeaux, whatever she calls herself," said Bridgers carelessly. "She was a store girl, wasn't she?"
"But"--she tried to speak calmly--"why do you think he wants to marry her?"
He laughed softly.
"Don't be silly," he said, "you can't fool me. Everybody knows she's worth a million."
"Worth a million?" she gasped58.
"Worth a million." He smacked59 his lips and fumbled60 for the little box in his waistcoat pocket. "Try a sniff--you'll know what it feels like to be old man Millinborn's heiress."
There was a sound in the hall below and he turned with an exaggerated start (she thought it theatrical61 but could not know of the jangled nerves of the drug-soddened man which magnified all sound to an intensity62 which was almost painful).
He opened the door and slid out--and did not close the door behind him.
Swiftly she followed, and as she reached the landing saw his head disappear down the stairs. She was in a blind panic; a thousand formless terrors gripped her and turned her resolute63 soul to water. She could have screamed her relief when she saw that the sliding door was half-open--the man had not stopped to close it--and she passed through and down the first flight. He had vanished before she reached the half-way landing and the hall below was empty. It was a wide hall, stone-flagged, with a glass door between her and the open portal.
She flew down the stairs, pulled open the door and ran straight into van Heerden's arms.
收听单词发音 |
1
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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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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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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grafted
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| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
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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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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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incubus
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| n.负担；恶梦 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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audacity
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| n.大胆，卤莽，无礼 | |
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hideously
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| adv.可怕地，非常讨厌地 | |
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armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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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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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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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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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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29
nibs
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| 上司，大人物； 钢笔尖，鹅毛管笔笔尖( nib的名词复数 )； 可可豆的碎粒； 小瑕疵 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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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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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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40
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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41
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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42
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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43
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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44
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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46
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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48
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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49
brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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50
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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51
analytical
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| adj.分析的；用分析法的 | |
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52
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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53
pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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54
steamship
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| n.汽船，轮船 | |
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55
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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56
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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57
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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58
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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59
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
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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61
theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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62
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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