“On the contrary,” I replied, “I am hopelessly at sea.”
Nevertheless, I had forgotten that I was hungry in the excitement which now claimed me. For although the thread upon which these seemingly disconnected things hung was invisible to me, I recognized that Bampton, the city clerk, the bearded stranger who had made so singular a proposition to him, the white-hatted major, the dead stockbroker1, and the mysterious woman whose presence in the case the clear sight of Harley had promptly2 detected, all were linked together by some subtle chain. I was convinced, too, that my friend held at least one end of that chain in his grip.
“In order to prepare your mind for the interview which I hope to obtain this evening,” continued Harley, “let me enlighten you upon one or two points which may seem obscure. In the first place you recognize that anyone leaning out of the window on the second floor would almost automatically rest his weight upon the iron bar which was placed there for that very purpose, since the ledge3 is unusually low?”
“Quite,” I replied, “and it also follows that if the bar gave way anyone thus leaning on it would be pitched into the street.”
“Your reasoning is correct.”
“But, my dear fellow,” said I, “how could such an accident have been foreseen?”
“You speak of an accident. This was no accident! One end of the bar had been filed completely through, although the file marks had been carefully concealed4 with rust5 and dirt; and the other end had been wrenched6 out from its socket7 and then replaced in such a way that anyone leaning upon the bar could not fail to be precipitated8 into the street!”
“Good heavens! Then you mean———”
“I mean, Knox, that the man who occupied the supper room on the night before the tragedy—the dark man, tanned and bearded, with slightly oblique9 eyes—-spent his time in filing through that bar—in short, in preparing a death trap!”
I was almost dumbfounded.
“But, Harley,” I said, “assuming that he knew his victim would be the next occupant of the room, how could he know———?”
I stopped. Suddenly, as if a curtain had been raised, the details of what I now perceived to be a fiendishly cunning murder were revealed to me.
“According to his own account, Knox,” resumed Harley, “Major Ragstaff regularly passed along that street with military punctuality at the same hour every night. You may take it for granted that the murderer was well aware of this. As a matter of fact, I happen to know that he was. We must also take it for granted that the murderer knew of these little dinners for two which took place in the private room above the Cafe Dame10 every Wednesday—and sometimes on Friday. Around the figure of the methodical major—with his conspicuous11 white hat as a sort of focus—was built up one of the most ingenious schemes of murder with which I have ever come in contact. The victim literally12 killed himself.”
“But, Harley, the victim might have ignored the disturbance13.”
“That is where I first detected the touch of genius, Knox. He recognized the voice of one of the combatants—or his companion did. Here we are.”
The cab drew up before the house in Hamilton Place. We alighted, and Harley pressed the bell. The same footman whom I had seen admit the woman opened the door.
“Is Lady Ireton at home?” asked Harley.
As he uttered the name I literally held my breath. We had come to the house of Major Ragstaff's daughter, the Marchioness of Ireton, one of society's most celebrated14 and beautiful hostesses!—the wife of a peer famed alike as sportsman, soldier, and scholar.
“I believe she is dining at home, sir,” said the man. “Shall I inquire?”
“Be good enough to do so,” replied Harley, and gave him a card. “Inform her that I wish to return to her a handbag which she lost a few days ago.”
The man ushered15 us into an anteroom opening off the lofty and rather gloomy hall, and as the door closed:
“Harley,” I said in a stage whisper, “am I to believe———”
“Can you doubt it?” returned Harley with a grim smile.
A few moments later we were shown into a charmingly intimate little boudoir in which Lady Ireton was waiting to receive us. She was a strikingly handsome brunette, but to-night her face, which normally, I think, possessed16 rich colouring, was almost pallid17, and there was a hunted look in her dark eyes which made me wish to be anywhere rather than where I found myself. Without preamble18 she rose and addressed Harley:
“I fail to understand your message, sir,” she said, and I admired the imperious courage with which she faced him. “You say you have recovered a handbag which I had lost?”
Harley bowed, and from the pocket of his greatcoat took out a silken-tasselled bag.
“The one which you left in the Cafe Dame, Lady Ireton,” he replied. “Here also I have”—from another pocket he drew out a diamond ring—“something which was extorted19 from you by the fellow Meyer.”
Without touching20 her recovered property, Lady Ireton sank slowly down into the chair from which she had arisen, her gaze fixed21 as if hypnotically upon the speaker.
“My friend, Mr. Knox, is aware of all the circumstances,” continued the latter, “but he is as anxious as I am to terminate this painful interview. I surmise22 that what occurred on Wednesday night was this—(correct me if I am wrong): While dining with Mr. De Lana you heard sounds of altercation23 in the street below. May I suggest that you recognized one of the voices?”
“Quite so,” he continued. “I am aware that Major Ragstaff is your father.” He turned to me: “Do you recognize the touch of genius at last?” Then, again addressing Lady Ireton: “You naturally suggested to your companion that he should look out of the window in order to learn what was taking place. The next thing you knew was that he had fallen into the street below?”
“It is retribution,” she whispered. “I have brought this ruin upon myself. But he does not deserve———”
Her voice faded into silence, and:
“You refer to your husband, Lord Ireton?” said Harley.
Lady Ireton nodded, and again recovering power of speech:
“It was to have been our last meeting,” she said, looking up at Harley.
She shuddered, and her eyes blazed into sudden fierceness. Then, clenching27 her hands, she looked aside.
“Oh, God, the shame of this hour!” she whispered.
And I would have given much to have been spared the spectacle of this proud, erring28 woman's humiliation29. But Paul Harley was scientifically remorseless. I could detect no pity in his glance.
“I would give my life willingly to spare my husband the knowledge of what has been,” said Lady Ireton in a low, monotonous30 voice. “Three times I sent my maid to Meyer to recover my bag, but he demanded a price which even I could not pay. Now it is all discovered, and Harry31 will know.”
“That, I fear, is unavoidable, Lady Ireton,” declared Harley. “May I ask where Lord Ireton is at present?”
“He is in Africa after big game.”
“H'm,” said Harley, “in Africa, and after big game? I can offer you one consolation32, Lady Ireton. In his own interests Meyer will stick to his first assertion that Mr. De Lana was dining alone.”
A strange, horribly pathetic look came into the woman's haunted eyes.
“I am acting for no one,” replied Harley tersely34. “Upon my friend's discretion35 you may rely as upon my own.”
“Then why should he ever know?” she whispered.
“Why, indeed,” murmured Harley, “since he is in Africa?”
As we descended36 the stair to the hall my friend paused and pointed37 to a life-sized oil painting by London's most fashionable portrait painter. It was that of a man in the uniform of a Guards officer, a dark man, slightly gray at the temples, his face very tanned as if by exposure to the sun.
“Having had no occasion for disguise when the portrait was painted,” said Harley, “Lord Ireton appears here without the beard; and as he is not represented smiling one cannot see the gold tooth. But the painter, if anything, has accentuated38 the slanting39 eyes. You see, the fourth marquis—the present Lord Ireton's father—married one of the world-famous Yen40 Sun girls, daughters of the mandarin41 of that name by an Irish wife. Hence, the eyes. And hence———”
“But, Harley—it was murder!”
“Not within the meaning of the law, Knox. It was a recrudescence of Chinese humour! Lord Ireton is officially in Africa (and he went actually after 'big game'). The counsel is not born who could secure a conviction. We are somewhat late, but shall therefore have less difficulty in finding a table at Prince's.”
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1
stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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3
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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4
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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6
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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7
socket
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| n.窝，穴，孔，插座，插口 | |
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8
precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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10
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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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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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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13
disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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14
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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15
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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18
preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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19
extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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20
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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21
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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22
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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23
altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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24
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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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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27
clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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28
erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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29
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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30
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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32
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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33
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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34
tersely
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| adv. 简捷地, 简要地 | |
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35
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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36
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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37
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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38
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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39
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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40
yen
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| n. 日元；热望 | |
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41
Mandarin
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| n.中国官话，国语，满清官吏；adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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