“Hallo! Innes,” said Paul Harley as his secretary entered. “Someone is making a devil of a row outside.”
Glancing at the card, Harley read aloud:
Meanwhile a loud harsh voice, which would have been audible in a full gale3, was roaring in the lobby.
“Nonsense!” I could hear the Major shouting. “Balderdash! There's more fuss than if I had asked for an interview with the Prime Minister. Piffle! Balderdash!”
Innes's smile developed into a laugh, in which Harley joined, then:
“Admit the Major,” he said.
Into the study where Harley and I had been seated quietly smoking, there presently strode a very choleric4 Anglo-Indian. He wore a horsy check suit and white spats5, and his tie closely resembled a stock. In his hand he carried a heavy malacca cane6, gloves, and one of those tall, light-gray hats commonly termed white. He was below medium height, slim and wiry; his gait and the shape of his legs, his build, all proclaimed the dragoon. His complexion7 was purple, and the large white teeth visible beneath a bristling8 gray moustache added to the natural ferocity of his appearance. Standing9 just within the doorway10:
“Mr. Paul Harley?” he shouted.
My friend, standing before the fireplace, his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth, nodded brusquely.
“I am Paul Harley,” he said. “Won't you sit down?”
Major Ragstaff, glancing angrily at Innes as the latter left the study, tossed his stick and gloves on to a settee, and drawing up a chair seated himself stiffly upon it as though he were in a saddle. He stared straight at Harley, and:
“You are not the sort of person I expected, sir,” he declared. “May I ask if it is your custom to keep clients dancin' on the mat and all that—on the blasted mat, sir?”
Harley suppressed a smile, and I hastily reached for my cigarette-case which I had placed upon the mantelshelf.
“I am always naturally pleased to see clients, Major Ragstaff,” said Harley, “but a certain amount of routine is necessary even in civilian13 life. You had not advised me of your visit, and it is contrary to my custom to discuss business after five o'clock.”
“I've seen you in India!” he roared; “damme! I've seen you in India!—and, yes! in Turkey! Ha! I've got you now sir!” He sprang to his feet. “You're the Harley who was in Constantinople in 1912.”
“Quite true.”
“Then I've come to the wrong shop.”
“But I was told you were a private detective, and all that.”
“So I am,” said Harley quietly. “In 1912 the Foreign Office was my client. I am now at the service of anyone who cares to employ me.”
“Hell!” said the Major.
He seemed to be temporarily stricken speechless by the discovery that a man who had acted for the British Government should be capable of stooping to the work of a private inquiry agent. Staring all about the room with a sort of naive16 wonderment, he drew out a big silk handkerchief and loudly blew his nose, all the time eyeing Harley questioningly. Replacing his handkerchief he directed his regard upon me, and:
“This is my friend, Mr. Knox,” said Harley; “you may state your case before him without hesitation17, unless———”
I rose to depart, but:
“Sit down, Mr. Knox! Sit down, sir!” shouted the Major. “I have no dirty linen18 to wash, no skeletons in the cupboard or piffle of that kind. I simply want something explained which I am too thick-headed—too damned thick-headed, sir—to explain myself.”
He resumed his seat, and taking out his wallet extracted from it a small newspaper cutting which he offered to Harley.
“Read that, Mr. Harley,” he directed. “Read it aloud.”
Harley read as follows:
“Before Mr. Smith, at Marlborough Street Police Court, John Edward Bampton was charged with assaulting a well-known clubman in Bond Street on Wednesday evening. It was proved by the constable19 who made the arrest that robbery had not been the motive20 of the assault, and Bampton confessed that he bore no grudge21 against the assailed22 man, indeed, that he had never seen him before. He pleaded intoxication23, and the police surgeon testified that although not actually intoxicated24, his breath had smelled strongly of liquor at the time of his arrest. Bampton's employers testified to a hitherto blameless character, and as the charge was not pressed the man was dismissed with a caution.”
Having read the paragraph, Harley glanced at the Major with a puzzled expression.
“The point of this quite escapes me,” he confessed.
“Is that so?” said Major Ragstaff. “Is that so, sir? Perhaps you will be good enough to read this.”
From his wallet he took a second newspaper cutting, smaller than the first, and gummed to a sheet of club notepaper. Harley took it and read as follows:
“Mr. De Lana, a well-known member of the Stock Exchange, who met with a serious accident recently, is still in a precarious25 condition.”
The puzzled look on Harley's face grew more acute, and the Major watched him with an expression which I can only describe as one of fierce enjoyment26.
“You're thinkin' I'm a damned old fool, ain't you?” he shouted suddenly.
“Scarcely that,” said Harley, smiling slightly, “but the significance of these paragraphs is not apparent, I must confess. The man Bampton would not appear to be an interesting character, and since no great damage has been done, his drunken frolic hardly comes within my sphere. Of Mr. De Lana, of the Stock Exchange, I never heard, unless he happens to be a member of the firm of De Lana and Day?”
“He's not a member of that firm, sir,” shouted the Major. “He was, up to six o'clock this evenin'.”
“What do you mean exactly?” inquired Harley, and the tone of his voice suggested that he was beginning to entertain doubts of the Major's sanity27 or sobriety; then:
“He's dead!” declared the latter. “Dead as the Begum of Bangalore! He died at six o'clock. I've just spoken to his widow on the telephone.”
I suppose I must have been staring very hard at the speaker, and certainly Harley was doing so, for suddenly directing his fierce gaze toward me:
“You're completely treed, sir, and so's your friend!” shouted Major Ragstaff.
“I confess it,” replied Harley quietly; “and since my time is of some little value I would suggest, without disrespect, that you explain the connection, if any, between yourself, the drunken Bampton, and Mr. De Lana, of the Stock Exchange, who died, you inform us, at six o'clock this evening as the result, presumably, of injuries received in an accident.”
“That's what I'm here for!” cried Major Ragstaff. “In the first place, then, I am the party, although I saw to it that my name was kept out of print, whom the drunken lunatic assaulted.”
Harley, pipe in hand, stared at the speaker perplexedly.
“Understand me,” continued the Major, “I am the person—I, Jack28 Ragstaff—he assaulted. I was walkin' down from my quarters in Maddox Street on my way to dine at the club, same as I do every night o' my life, when this flamin' idiot sprang upon me, grabbed my hat”—he took up his white hat to illustrate29 what had occurred—“not this one, but one like it—pitched it on the ground and jumped on it!”
Harley was quite unable to conceal30 his smiles as the excited old soldier dropped his conspicuous31 head-gear on the floor and indulged in a vigorous pantomime designed to illustrate his statement.
“Most extraordinary,” said Harley. “What did you do?”
“What did I do?” roared the Major. “I gave him a crack on the head with my cane, and I said things to him which couldn't be repeated in court. I punched him, and likewise hoofed32 him, but the hat was completely done in. Damn crowd collected, hearin' me swearin' and bellowin'. Police and all that; names an' addresses and all that balderdash. Man lugged33 away to guard-room and me turnin' up at the club with no hat. Damn ridiculous spectacle at my time of life.”
“Quite so,” said Harley soothingly34; “I appreciate your annoyance35, but I am utterly36 at a loss to understand why you have come here, and what all this has to do with Mr. De Lana, of the Stock Exchange.”
“He fell out of the window!” shouted the Major.
“Fell out of a window?”
“Out of a window, sir, a second floor window ten yards up a side street! Pitched on his skull—marvel he wasn't killed outright37!”
A faint expression of interest began to creep into Harley's glance, and:
“I understand you to mean, Major Ragstaff,” he said deliberately38, “that while your struggle with the drunken man was in progress Mr. De Lana fell out of a neighbouring window into the street?”
“Right!” shouted the Major. “Right, sir!”
“Do you know this Mr. De Lana?”
“Never heard of him in my life until the accident occurred. Seems to me the poor devil leaned out to see the fun and overbalanced. Felt responsible, only natural, and made inquiries39. He died at six o'clock this evenin', sir.”
“H'm,” said Harley reflectively. “I still fail to see where I come in. From what window did he fall?”
“Window above a sort of teashop, called Cafe Dame—damn silly name. Place on a corner. Don't know name of side street.”
“H'm. You don't think he was pushed out, for instance?”
“Certainly not!” shouted the Major; “he just fell out, but the point is, he's dead!”
“My dear sir,” said Harley patiently, “I don't dispute that point; but what on earth do you want of me?”
“I don't know what I want!” roared the Major, beginning to walk up and down the room, “but I know I ain't satisfied, not easy in my mind, sir. I wake up of a night hearin' the poor devil's yell as he crashed on the pavement. That's all wrong. I've heard hundreds of death-yells, but”—he took up his malacca cane and beat it loudly on the table—“I haven't woke up of a night dreamin' I heard 'em again.”
“I don't suspect anything!” cried the other excitedly, “but someone mentioned your name to me at the club—said you could see through concrete, and all that—and here I am. There's something wrong, radically41 wrong. Find out what it is and send the bill to me. Then perhaps I'll be able to sleep in peace.”
He paused, and again taking out the large silk handkerchief blew his nose loudly. Harley glanced at me in rather an odd way, and then:
“There will be no bill, Major Ragstaff,” he said; “but if I can see any possible line of inquiry I will pursue it and report the result to you.”
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1
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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3
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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4
choleric
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| adj.易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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spats
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| n.口角( spat的名词复数 )；小争吵；鞋罩；鞋套v.spit的过去式和过去分词( spat的第三人称单数 )；口角；小争吵；鞋罩 | |
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6
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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7
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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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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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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12
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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13
civilian
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| adj.平民的，民用的，民众的 | |
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14
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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15
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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precarious
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| adj.不安定的，靠不住的；根据不足的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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28
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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32
hoofed
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| adj.有蹄的，蹄形状的，装蹄的v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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39
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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40
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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radically
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| ad.根本地，本质地 | |
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