The Man
“You know the man?”
“I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. He comes here once in a while. I do not know whether or not he was in the building to-night, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes Clausen’s eye.”
“His name.”
“Brotherson. A very uncommon1 person in many respects; quite capable of such an eccentricity2, but incapable3, I should say, of crime. He’s a gifted talker and so well read that he can hold one’s attention for hours. Of his tastes, I can only say that they appear to be mainly scientific. But he is not averse4 to society, and is always very well dressed.”
“A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together.”
“This man is an exception to all rules. The one I’m speaking of, I mean. I don’t say that he’s the fellow seen pottering in the snow.”
“Call up Clausen.”
The manager stepped to the telephone.
Meanwhile, George had advanced to speak to a man who had beckoned5 to him from the other side of the room, and with whom in another moment I saw him step out. Thus deserted6, I sank into a chair near one of the windows. Never had I felt more uncomfortable. To attribute guilt7 to a totally unknown person — a person who is little more to you than a shadowy silhouette8 against a background of snow — is easy enough and not very disturbing to the conscience. But to hear that person named; given positive attributes; lifted from the indefinite into a living, breathing actuality, with a man’s hopes, purposes and responsibilities, is an entirely9 different proposition. This Brotherson might be the most innocent person alive; and, if so, what had we done? Nothing to congratulate ourselves upon, certainly. And George was not present to comfort and encourage me. He was —
Where was he? The man who had carried him off was the youngest in the group. What had he wanted of George? Those who remained showed no interest in the matter. They had enough to say among themselves. But I was interested — naturally so, and, in my uneasiness, glanced restlessly from the window, the shade of which was up. The outlook was a very peaceful one. This room faced a side street, and, as my eyes fell upon the whitened pavements, I received an answer to one, and that the most anxious, of my queries10. This was the street into which we had turned, in the wake of the handsome stranger they were trying at this very moment to identify with Brotherson. George had evidently been asked to point out the exact spot where the man had stopped, for I could see from my vantage point two figures bending near the kerb, and even pawing at the snow which lay there. It gave me a slight turn when one of them — I do not think it was George — began to rub his hands together in much the way the unknown gentleman had done, and, in my excitement, I probably uttered some sort of an ejaculation, for I was suddenly conscious of a silence in the room, and when I turned saw all the men about me looking my way.
I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered11 painfully, as I raised my hand and pointed12 down at the street.
“They are imitating the man,” I cried; “my husband and — and the person he went out with. It looked dreadful to me; that is all.”
One of the gentlemen immediately said some kind words to me, and another smiled in a very encouraging way. But their attention was soon diverted, and so was mine by the entrance of a man in semi-uniform, who was immediately addressed as Clausen.
I knew his face. He was one of the doorkeepers; the oldest employee about the hotel, and the one best liked. I had often exchanged words with him myself.
Mr. Slater at once put his question:
“Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?
“Mr. Brotherson! I don’t remember, really I don’t,” was the unexpected reply. “It’s not often I forget. But so many people came rushing in during those few minutes, and all so excited —”
“Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly just before.”
“Oh, now I recall him! Yes, Mr. Brotherson went out of my door not many minutes before the cry upstairs. I forgot because I had stepped back from the door to hand a lady the muff she had dropped, and it was at that minute he went out. I just got a glimpse of his back as he passed into the street.”
“But you are sure of that back?”
“I don’t know another like it, when he wears that big coat of his. But Jim can tell you, sir. He was in the cafe up to that minute, and that’s where Mr. Brotherson usually goes first.”
“Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him.”
The old man bowed and went out.
Meanwhile, Mr. Slater had exchanged some words with the two officials, and now approached me with an expression of extreme consideration. They were about to excuse me from further participation14 in this informal inquiry15. This I saw before he spoke16. Of course they were right. But I should greatly have preferred to stay where I was till George came back.
However, I met him for an instant in the hall before I took the elevator, and later I heard in a round-about way what Jim and some others about the house had to say of Mr. Brotherson.
He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or twice a week in the cafe, and smoking, afterwards, in the public lobby. When he was in the mood for talk, he would draw an ever-enlarging group about him, but at other times he would be seen sitting quite alone and morosely17 indifferent to all who approached him. There was no mystery about his business. He was an inventor, with one or two valuable patents already on the market. But this was not his only interest. He was an all round sort of man, moody18 but brilliant in many ways — a character which at once attracted and repelled19, odd in that he seemed to set little store by his good looks, yet was most careful to dress himself in a way to show them off to advantage. If he had means beyond the ordinary no one knew it, nor could any man say that he had not. On all personal matters he was very close-mouthed, though he would talk about other men’s riches in a way to show that he cherished some very extreme views.
This was all which could be learned about him off-hand, and at so late an hour. I was greatly interested, of course, and had plenty to think of till I saw George again and learned the result of the latest investigations20.
Miss Challoner had been shot, not stabbed. No other deduction21 was possible from such facts as were now known, though the physicians had not yet handed in their report, or even intimated what that report would be. No assailant could have approached or left her, without attracting the notice of some one, if not all of the persons seated at a table in the same room. She could only have been reached by a bullet sent from a point near the head of a small winding22 staircase connecting the mezzanine floor with a coat-room adjacent to the front door. This has already been insisted on, as you will remember, and if you will glance at the diagram which George hastily scrawled23 for me, you will see why.
A. B., as well as C. D., are half circular openings into the office lobby. E. F. are windows giving upon Broadway, and G. the party wall, necessarily unbroken by window, door or any other opening.
_____________________G.______
| ===desk |
| |
| Where Miss C Fell-x o
| A o
| o
E o
| _____ |
| |_____|table |
| o
| o
| B o
| o
| ________ H ________ |
| *** | |
| ** ** |elevator |
| ** staircase
| ** ** X. |_________|_____C_________D____
| ***
F Musician's Gallery
|____ ______________ ________________ ______
|
| Dining Room Level With Lobby
It follows then that the only possible means of approach to this room lies through the archway H., or from the elevator door. But the elevator made no stop at the mezzanine on or near the time of the attack upon Miss Challoner; nor did any one leave the table or pass by it in either direction till after the alarm given by her fall.
But a bullet calls for no approach. A man at X. might raise and fire his pistol without attracting any attention to himself. The music, which all acknowledge was at its full climax24 at this moment, would drown the noise of the explosion, and the staircase, out of view of all but the victim, afford the same means of immediate13 escape, which it must have given of secret and unseen approach. The coat-room into which it descended25 communicated with the lobby very near the main entrance, and if Mr. Brotherson were the man, his sudden appearance there would thus be accounted for.
To be sure, this gentleman had not been noticed in the coatroom by the man then in charge, but if the latter had been engaged at that instant, as he often was, in hanging up or taking down a coat from the rack, a person might easily pass by him and disappear into the lobby without attracting his attention. So many people passed that way from the dining-room beyond, and so many of these were tall, fine-looking and well-dressed.
It began to look bad for this man, if indeed he were the one we had seen under the street-lamp; and, as George and I reviewed the situation, we felt our position to be serious enough for us severally to set down our impressions of this man before we lost our first vivid idea. I do not know what George wrote, for he sealed his words up as soon as he had finished writing, but this is what I put on paper while my memory was still fresh and my excitement unabated:
He had the look of a man of powerful intellect and determined26 will, who shudders27 while he triumphs; who outwardly washes his hands of a deed over which he inwardly gloats. This was when he first rose from the snow. Afterwards he had a moment of fear; plain, human, everyday fear. But this was evanescent. Before he had turned to go, he showed the self-possession of one who feels himself so secure, or is so well-satisfied with himself, that he is no longer conscious of other emotions.
“Poor fellow,” I commented aloud, as I folded up these words; “he reckoned without you, George. By to-morrow he will be in the hands of the police.”
“Poor fellow?” he repeated. “Better say ‘Poor Miss Challoner!’ They tell me she was one of those perfect women who reconcile even the pessimist28 to humanity and the age we live in. Why any one should want to kill her is a mystery; but why this man should — There! no one professes29 to explain it. They simply go by the facts. To-morrow surely must bring strange revelations.”
And with this sentence ringing in my mind, I lay down and endeavoured to sleep. But it was not till very late that rest came. The noise of passing feet, though muffled30 beyond their wont31, roused me in spite of myself. These footsteps might be those of some late arrival, or they might be those of some wary32 detective intent on business far removed from the usual routine of life in this great hotel.
I recalled the glimpse I had had of the writing-room in the early evening, and imagined it as it was with Miss Challoner’s body removed and the incongruous flitting of strange and busy figures across its fatal floors, measuring distances and peering into corners, while hundreds slept above and about them in undisturbed repose33.
Then I thought of him, the suspected and possibly guilty one. In visions over which I had little if any control, I saw him in all the restlessness of a slowly dying down excitement — the surroundings strange and unknown to me, the figure not — seeking for quiet; facing the past; facing the future; knowing, perhaps, for the first time in his life what it was for crime and remorse34 to murder sleep. I could not think of him as lying still — slumbering35 like the rest of mankind, in the hope and expectation of a busy morrow. Crime perpetrated looms36 so large in the soul, and this man had a soul as big as his body; of that I was assured. That its instincts were cruel and inherently evil, did not lessen37 its capacity for suffering. And he was suffering now; I could not doubt it, remembering the lovely face and fragrant38 memory of the noble woman he had, under some unknown impulse, sent to an unmerited doom39.
At last I slept, but it was only to rouse again with the same quick realisation of my surroundings, which I had experienced on my recovery from my fainting fit of hours before. Someone had stopped at our door before hurrying by down the hall. Who was that someone? I rose on my elbow, and endeavoured to peer through the dark. Of course, I could see nothing. But when I woke a second time, there was enough light in the room, early as it undoubtedly40 was, for me to detect a letter lying on the carpet just inside the door.
Instantly I was on my feet. Catching41 the letter up, I carried it to the window. Our two names were on it — Mr. and Mrs. George Anderson: the writing, Mr. Slater’s.
I glanced over at George. He was sleeping peacefully. It was too early to wake him, but I could not lay that letter down unread; was not my name on it? Tearing it open, I devoured42 its contents,— the exclamation43 I made on reading it, waking George.
The writing was in Mr. Slater’s hand, and the words were:
“I must request, at the instance of Coroner Heath and such of the police as listened to your adventure, that you make no further mention of what you saw in the street under our windows last night. The doctors find no bullet in the wound. This clears Mr. Brotherson.”
收听单词发音 |
1
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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7
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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8
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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9
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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10
queries
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| n.问题( query的名词复数 )；疑问；询问；问号v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的第三人称单数 )；询问 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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12
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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13
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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14
participation
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| n.参与，参加，分享 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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16
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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morosely
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| adv.愁眉苦脸地，忧郁地 | |
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18
moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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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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20
investigations
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| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
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21
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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22
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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23
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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24
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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25
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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26
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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27
shudders
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| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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28
pessimist
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| n.悲观者；悲观主义者；厌世 | |
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29
professes
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| 声称( profess的第三人称单数 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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30
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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32
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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33
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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34
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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35
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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looms
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| n.织布机( loom的名词复数 )v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的第三人称单数 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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37
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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38
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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40
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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41
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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42
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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43
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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