What Am I to Do Now
Early morning saw Sweetwater peering into the depths of his closet. The hole was hardly visible. This meant that the book he had pushed across it from the other side had not been removed.
Greatly re-assured by the sight, he awaited his opportunity, and as soon as a suitable one presented itself, prepared the hole for inspection1 by breaking away its edges and begriming it well with plaster and old dirt. This done, he left matters to arrange themselves; which they did, after this manner.
Mr. Brotherson suddenly developed a great need of him, and it became a common thing for him to spend the half and, sometimes, the whole of the evening in the neighbouring room. This was just what he had worked for, and his constant intercourse2 with the man whose secret he sought to surprise should have borne fruit. But it did not. Nothing in the eager but painstaking3 inventor showed a distracted mind or a heavily-burdened soul. Indeed, he was so calm in all his ways, so precise and so self-contained, that Sweetwater often wondered what had become of the fiery4 agitator5 and eloquent6 propagandist of new and startling doctrines7.
Then, he thought he understood the riddle8. The model was reaching its completion, and Brotherson’s extreme interest in it and the confidence he had in its success swallowed up all lesser9 emotions. Were the invention to prove a failure — but there was small hope of this. The man was of too well-poised a mind to over-estimate his work or miscalculate its place among modern improvements. Soon he would reach the goal of his desires, be praised, feted, made much of by the very people he now professedly scorned. There was no thoroughfare for Sweetwater here. Another road must be found; some secret, strange and unforeseen method of reaching a soul inaccessible10 to all ordinary or even extraordinary impressions.
Would a night of thought reveal such a method? Night! the very word brought inspiration. A man is not his full self at night. Secrets which, under the ordinary circumstances of everyday life, lie too deep for surprise, creep from their hiding-places in the dismal11 hours of universal quiet, and lips which are dumb to the most subtle of questioners break into strange and self-revealing mutterings when sleep lies heavy on ear and eye and the forces of life and death are released to play with the rudderless spirit.
It was in different words from these that Sweetwater reasoned, no doubt, but his conclusions were the same, and as he continued to brood over them, he saw a chance — a fool’s chance, possibly, (but fools sometimes win where wise men fail) of reaching those depths he still believed in, notwithstanding his failure to sound them.
Addressing a letter to his friend in Twenty-ninth Street, he awaited reply in the shape of a small package he had ordered sent to the corner drug-store. When it came, he carried it home in a state of mingled12 hope and misgiving13. Was he about to cap his fortnight of disappointment by another signal failure; end the matter by disclosing his hand; lose all, or win all by an experiment as daring and possibly as fanciful as were his continued suspicions of this seemingly upright and undoubtedly14 busy man?
He made no attempt to argue the question. The event called for the exercise of the most dogged elements in his character and upon these he must rely. He would make the effort he contemplated15, simply because he was minded to do so. That was all there was to it. But any one noting him well that night, would have seen that he ate little and consulted his watch continually. Sweetwater had not yet passed the line where work becomes routine and the feelings remain totally under control.
Brotherson was unusually active and alert that evening. He was anxious to fit one delicate bit of mechanism16 into another, and he was continually interrupted by visitors. Some big event was on in the socialistic world, and his presence was eagerly demanded by one brotherhood17 after another. Sweetwater, posted at his loop-hole, heard the arguments advanced by each separate spokesman, followed by Brotherson’s unvarying reply: that when his work was done and he had proved his right to approach them with a message, they might look to hear from him again; but not before. His patience was inexhaustible, but he showed himself relieved when the hour grew too late for further interruption. He began to whistle — a token that all was going well with him, and Sweetwater, who had come to understand some of his moods, looked forward to an hour or two of continuous work on Brotherson’s part and of dreary18 and impatient waiting on his own. But, as so many times before, he misread the man. Earlier than common — much earlier, in fact, Mr. Brotherson laid down his tools and gave himself up to a restless pacing of the floor. This was not usual with him. Nor did he often indulge himself in playing on the piano as he did to-night, beginning with a few heavenly strains and ending with a bang that made the key-board jump. Certainly something was amiss in the quarter where peace had hitherto reigned19 undisturbed. Had the depths begun to heave, or were physical causes alone responsible for these unwonted ebullitions of feeling?
The question was immaterial. Either would form an excellent preparation for the coup20 planned by Sweetwater; and when, after another hour of uncertainty21, perfect silence greeted him from his neighbour’s room, hope had soared again on exultant22 wing, far above all former discouragements.
Mr. Brotherson’s bed was in a remote corner from the loop-hole made by Sweetwater; but in the stillness now pervading23 the whole building, the latter could hear his even breathing very distinctly. He was in a deep sleep.
The young detective’s moment had come.
Taking from his breast a small box, he placed it on a shelf close against the partition. An instant of quiet listening, then he touched a spring in the side of the box and laid his ear, in haste, to his loop-hole.
A strain of well-known music broke softly, from the box and sent its vibrations24 through the wall.
It was answered instantly by a stir within; then, as the noble air continued, awakening25 memories of that fatal instant when it crashed through the corridors of the Hotel Clermont, drowning Miss Challoner’s cry if not the sound of her fall, a word burst from the sleeping man’s lips which carried its own message to the listening detective.
It was Edith! Miss Challoner’s first name, and the tone bespoke26 a shaken soul.
Sweetwater, gasping27 with excitement, caught the box from the shelf and silenced it. It had done its work and it was no part of Sweetwater’s plan to have this strain located, or even to be thought real. But its echo still lingered in Brotherson’s otherwise unconscious ears; for another “Edith!” escaped his lips, followed by a smothered28 but forceful utterance29 of these five words, “You know I promised you —”
Promised her what? He did not say. Would he have done so had the music lasted a trifle longer? Would he yet complete his sentence? Sweetwater trembled with eagerness and listened breathlessly for the next sound. Brotherson was awake. He was tossing in his bed. Now he has leaped to the floor. Sweetwater hears him groan30, then comes another silence, broken at last by the sound of his body falling back upon the bed and the troubled ejaculation of “Good God!” wrung31 from lips no torture could have forced into complaint under any daytime conditions.
Sweetwater continued to listen, but he had heard all, and after some few minutes longer of fruitless waiting, he withdrew from his post. The episode was over. He would hear no more that night.
Was he satisfied? Certainly the event, puerile32 as it might seem to some, had opened up strange vistas33 to his aroused imagination. The words “Edith, you know I promised you —” were in themselves provocative34 of strange and doubtful conjectures35. Had the sleeper36 under the influence of a strain of music indissolubly associated with the death of Miss Challoner, been so completely forced back into the circumstances and environment of that moment that his mind had taken up and his lips repeated the thoughts with which that moment of horror was charged? Sweetwater imagined the scene — saw the figure of Brotherson hesitating at the top of the stairs — saw hers advancing from the writing-room, with startled and uplifted hand — heard the music — the crash of that great finale — and decided37, without hesitation38, that the words he had just heard were indeed the thoughts of that moment. “Edith, you know I promised you —” What had he promised? What she received was death! Had this been in his mind? Would this have been the termination of the sentence had he wakened less soon to consciousness and caution?
Sweetwater dared to believe it. He was no nearer comprehending the mystery it involved than he had been before, but he felt sure that he had been given one true and positive glimpse into this harassed39 soul which showed its deeply hidden secret to be both deadly and fearsome; and happy to have won his way so far into the mystic labyrinth40 he had sworn to pierce, he rested in happy unconsciousness till morning when —
Could it be? Was it he who was dreaming now, or was the event of the night a mere41 farce42 of his own imagining? Mr. Brotherson was whistling in his room, gaily43 and with ever increasing verve, and the tune44 which filled the whole floor with music was the same grand finale from William Tell which had seemed to work such magic in the night. As Sweetwater caught the mellow45 but indifferent notes sounding from those lips of brass46, he dragged forth47 the music-box he held hidden in his coat pocket, and flinging it on the floor stamped upon it.
“The man is too strong for me,” he cried. “His heart is granite48; he meets my every move. What am I to do now?”
收听单词发音 |
1
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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agitator
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| n.鼓动者；搅拌器 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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doctrines
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| n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 )；教义；学说；（政府政策的）正式声明 | |
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riddle
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| n.谜，谜语，粗筛；vt.解谜，给…出谜，筛，检查，鉴定，非难，充满于；vi.出谜 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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coup
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| n.政变；突然而成功的行动 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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vibrations
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| n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 )；震动；感受；（偏离平衡位置的）一次性往复振动 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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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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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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30
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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31
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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puerile
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| adj.幼稚的，儿童的 | |
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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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36
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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41
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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42
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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44
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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45
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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46
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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47
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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48
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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