Soames returned to England the following day, and on the third morning received a visit from Mr. Polteed, who wore a flower and carried a brown billycock hat. Soames motioned him to a seat.
“The news from the war is not so bad, is it?” said Mr. Polteed. “I hope I see you well, sir.”
“Thanks! quite.”
Mr. Polteed leaned forward, smiled, opened his hand, looked into it, and said softly:
“I think we’ve done your business for you at last.”
“What?” ejaculated Soames.
“Nineteen reports quite suddenly what I think we shall be justified1 in calling conclusive2 evidence,” and Mr. Polteed paused.
“Well?”
“On the 10th instant, after witnessing an interview between 17 and a party, earlier in the day, 19 can swear to having seen him coming out of her bedroom in the hotel about ten o’clock in the evening. With a little care in the giving of the evidence that will be enough, especially as 17 has left Paris — no doubt with the party in question. In fact, they both slipped off, and we haven’t got on to them again, yet; but we shall — we shall. She’s worked hard under very difficult circumstances, and I’m glad she’s brought it off at last.” Mr. Polteed took out a cigarette, tapped its end against the table, looked at Soames, and put it back. The expression on his client’s face was not encouraging.
“Who is this new person?” said Soames abruptly3.
“That we don’t know. She’ll swear to the fact, and she’s got his appearance pat.”
Mr. Polteed took out a letter, and began reading:
“‘Middle-aged, medium height, blue dittoes in afternoon, evening dress at night, pale, dark hair, small dark moustache, flat cheeks, good chin, grey eyes, small feet, guilty look. . . . ’”
Soames rose and went to the window. He stood there in sardonic4 fury. Congenital idiot — spidery congenital idiot! Seven months at fifteen pounds a week — to be tracked down as his own wife’s lover! Guilty look! He threw the window open.
“It’s hot,” he said, and came back to his seat.
Crossing his knees, he bent5 a supercilious6 glance on Mr. Polteed.
“I doubt if that’s quite good enough,” he said, drawling the words, “with no name or address. I think you may let that lady have a rest, and take up our friend 47 at this end.” Whether Polteed had spotted7 him he could not tell; but he had a mental vision of him in the midst of his cronies dissolved in inextinguishable laughter. ‘Guilty look!’ Damnation!
Mr. Polteed said in a tone of urgency, almost of pathos8: “I assure you we have put it through sometimes on less than that. It’s Paris, you know. Attractive woman living alone. Why not risk it, sir? We might screw it up a peg10.”
Soames had sudden insight. The fellow’s professional zeal11 was stirred: ‘Greatest triumph of my career; got a man his divorce through a visit to his own wife’s bedroom! Something to talk of there, when I retire!’ And for one wild moment he thought: ‘Why not?’ After all, hundreds of men of medium height had small feet and a guilty look!
“I’m not authorised to take any risk!” he said shortly.
Mr. Polteed looked up.
“Pity,” he said, “quite a pity! That other affair seemed very costive.”
Soames rose.
“Never mind that. Please watch 47, and take care not to find a mare’s nest. Good-morning!”
Mr. Polteed’s eye glinted at the words ‘mare’s nest!’
“Very good. You shall be kept informed.”
And Soames was alone again. The spidery, dirty, ridiculous business! Laying his arms on the table, he leaned his forehead on them. Full ten minutes he rested thus, till a managing clerk roused him with the draft prospectus12 of a new issue of shares, very desirable, in Manifold and Topping’s. That afternoon he left work early and made his way to the Restaurant Bretagne. Only Madame Lamotte was in. Would Monsieur have tea with her?
Soames bowed.
When they were seated at right angles to each other in the little room, he said abruptly:
“I want a talk with you, Madame.”
The quick lift of her clear brown eyes told him that she had long expected such words.
“I have to ask you something first: That young doctor — what’s his name? Is there anything between him and Annette?”
Her whole personality had become, as it were, like jet — clear-cut, black, hard, shining.
“Annette is young,” she said; “so is monsieur le docteur. Between young people things move quickly; but Annette is a good daughter. Ah! what a jewel of a nature!”
The least little smile twisted Soames’ lips.
“Nothing definite, then?”
“But definite — no, indeed! The young man is veree nice, but — what would you? There is no money at present.”
She raised her willow-patterned tea-cup; Soames did the same. Their eyes met.
“I am a married man,” he said, “living apart from my wife for many years. I am seeking to divorce her.”
Madame Lamotte put down her cup. Indeed! What tragic13 things there were! The entire absence of sentiment in her inspired a queer species of contempt in Soames.
“I am a rich man,” he added, fully14 conscious that the remark was not in good taste. “It is useless to say more at present, but I think you understand.”
Madame’s eyes, so open that the whites showed above them, looked at him very straight.
“Ah! ca — mais nous avons le temps!” was all she said. “Another little cup?” Soames refused, and, taking his leave, walked westward15.
He had got that off his mind; she would not let Annette commit herself with that cheerful young ass9 until. . . .! But what chance of his ever being able to say: ‘I’m free.’ What chance? The future had lost all semblance16 of reality. He felt like a fly, entangled17 in cobweb filaments18, watching the desirable freedom of the air with pitiful eyes.
He was short of exercise, and wandered on to Kensington Gardens, and down Queen’s Gate towards Chelsea. Perhaps she had gone back to her flat. That at all events he could find out. For since that last and most ignominious19 repulse20 his wounded self-respect had taken refuge again in the feeling that she must have a lover. He arrived before the little Mansions21 at the dinner-hour. No need to enquire22! A grey-haired lady was watering the flower-boxes in her window. It was evidently let. And he walked slowly past again, along the river — an evening of clear, quiet beauty, all harmony and comfort, except within his heart.
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1
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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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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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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filaments
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| n.（电灯泡的）灯丝( filament的名词复数 )；丝极；细丝；丝状物 | |
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ignominious
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| adj.可鄙的，不光彩的，耻辱的 | |
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repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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enquire
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| v.打听，询问；调查，查问 | |
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