His study door was locked, with the key outside. He remembered having locked it. Opening it, he entered and looked about him. He was vaguely4 disappointed. Save for the untidy litter of papers upon the table, the study was as he had left it on retiring. If he could believe the evidence of his senses, nothing had been disturbed.
Not content with a casual inspection5, he particularly examined those papers which, in his dream adventure, he had believed to have been submitted to mysterious inspection. They showed no signs of having been touched. The casement6 curtains were drawn7 across the recess8 formed by the French windows, and sunlight streamed in where, silhouetted9 against the pallid10 illumination of the moon, he had seen the man in the cowl. Drawing back the curtains, he examined the window fastenings. They were secure. If the window had really been open in the night, he must have left it so himself.
"Well," muttered Stuart—"of all the amazing nightmares!"
He determined11, immediately he had bathed and completed his toilet, to write an account of the dream for the Psychical12 Research Society, in whose work he was interested. Half an hour later, as the movements of an awakened13 household began to proclaim themselves, he sat down at his writing-table and commenced to write.
Keppel Stuart was a dark, good-looking man of about thirty-two, an easy-going bachelor who, whilst not over ambitious, was nevertheless a brilliant physician. He had worked for the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine and had spent several years in India studying snake poisons. His purchase of this humdrum14 suburban15 practice had been dictated16 by a desire to make a home for a girl who at the eleventh hour had declined to share it. Two years had elapsed since then, but the shadow still lay upon Stuart's life, its influence being revealed in a certain apathy17, almost indifference18, which characterised his professional conduct.
His account of the dream completed, he put the paper into a pigeon-hole and forgot all about the matter. That day seemed to be more than usually dull and the hours to drag wearily on. He was conscious of a sort of suspense19. He was waiting for something, or for someone. He did not choose to analyse this mental condition. Had he done so, the explanation was simple—and one that he dared not face.
At about ten o'clock that night, having been called out to a case, he returned to his house, walking straight into the study as was his custom and casting a light Burberry with a soft hat upon the sofa beside his stick and bag. The lamps were lighted, and the book-lined room, indicative of a studious and not over-wealthy bachelor, looked cheerful enough with the firelight dancing on the furniture.
Mrs. M'Gregor, a grey-haired Scotch20 lady, attired21 with scrupulous22 neatness, was tending the fire at the moment, and hearing Stuart come in she turned and glanced at him.
"A fire is rather superfluous23 to-night, Mrs. M'Gregor," he said. "I found it unpleasantly warm walking."
"May is a fearsome treacherous24 month, Mr. Keppel," replied the old housekeeper25, who from long association with the struggling practitioner26 had come to regard him as a son. "An' a wheen o' dry logs is worth a barrel o' pheesic. To which I would add that if ye're hintin' it's time ye shed ye're woolsies for ye're summer wear, all I have to reply is that I hope sincerely ye're patients are more prudent27 than yoursel'."
She placed his slippers28 in the fender and took up the hat, stick and coat from the sofa. Stuart laughed.
"Most of the neighbors exhibit their wisdom by refraining from becoming patients of mine, Mrs. M'Gregor."
"That's no weesdom; it's just preejudice."
"Prejudice!" cried Stuart, dropping down upon the sofa.
"Aye," replied Mrs. M'Gregor firmly—"preejudice! They're no' that daft but they're well aware o' who's the cleverest physeecian in the deestrict, an' they come to nane other than Dr. Keppel Stuart when they're sair sick and think they're dying; but ye'll never establish the practice you desairve, Mr. Keppel—never—until—"
"Until when, Mrs. M'Gregor?"
"Mrs. M'Gregor!" exclaimed Stuart with concern. "You don't mean that you want to desert me? After—let me see—how many years is it, Mrs. M'Gregor?"
"Thirty years come last Shrove Tuesday; I dandled ye on my knee, and eh! but ye were bonny! God forbid, but I'd like to see ye thriving as ye desairve, and that ye'll never do whilst ye're a bachelor."
"Oh!" cried Stuart, laughing again—"oh, that's it, is it? So you would like me to find some poor inoffensive girl to share my struggles?"
Mrs. M'Gregor nodded wisely. "She'd have nane so many to share. I know ye think I'm old-fashioned, Mr. Keppel and it may be I am; but I do assure you I would be sair harassed31, if stricken to my bed—which, please God, I won't be—to receive the veesits of a pairsonable young bachelor—"
"Er—Mrs. M'Gregor!" interrupted Stuart, coughing in mock rebuke—"quite so! I fancy we have discussed this point before, and as you say your ideas are a wee bit, just a wee bit, behind the times. On this particular point I mean. But I am very grateful to you, very sincerely grateful, for your disinterested32 kindness; and if ever I should follow your advice——"
Mrs. M'Gregor interrupted him, pointing to his boots. "Ye're no' that daft as to sit in wet boots?"
"Really they are perfectly dry. Except for a light shower this evening, there has been no rain for several days. However, I may as well, since I shall not be going out again."
He began to unlace his boots as Mrs. M'Gregor pulled the white casement curtains across the windows and then prepared to retire. Her hand upon the door knob, she turned again to Stuart.
"The foreign lady called half an hour since, Mr. Keppel."
Stuart desisted from unlacing his boots and looked up with lively interest. "Mlle. Dorian! Did she leave any message?"
"She obsairved that she might repeat her veesit later," replied Mrs. M'Gregor, and, after a moment's hesitation33; "she awaited ye're return with exemplary patience."
"Really, I am sorry I was detained," declared Stuart, replacing his boot. "How long has she been gone, then?"
"Just the now. No more than two or three minutes. I trust she is no worse."
"Worse!"
"The lass seemed o'er anxious to see you."
"Well, you know, Mrs. M'Gregor, she comes a considerable distance."
Stuart assumed an expression of perplexity to hide his embarrassment35. "Mrs. M'Gregor," he said rather ruefully, "you watch over me as tenderly as my own mother would have done. I have observed a certain restraint in your manner whenever you have had occasion to refer to Mlle. Dorian. In what way does she differ from my other lady patients?" And even as he spoke36 the words he knew in his heart that she differed from every other woman in the world.
Mrs. M'Gregor sniffed37. "Do your other lady patients wear furs that your airnings for six months could never pay for, Mr. Keppel?" she inquired.
"No, unfortunately they pin their faith, for the most part, to gaily38 coloured shawls. All the more reason why I should bless the accident which led Mlle. Dorian to my door."
Mrs. M'Gregor, betraying, in her interest, real suspicion, murmured sotto voce: "Then she is a patient?"
"What's that?" asked Stuart, regarding her surprisedly. "A patient?
"I'm no' surprised to hear it."
"What do you mean, Mrs. M'Gregor?"
"Now, Mr. Keppel, laddie, ye're angry with me, and like enough I am a meddlesome40 auld woman. But I know what a man will do for shining een and a winsome41 face—nane better to my sorrow—and twa times have I heard the Warning."
M'Gregor, but—er—the Warning? To what 'warning' do you refer?"
Seating herself in the chair before the writing-table, Mrs. M'Gregor shook her head pensively43. "What would it be," she said softly, "but the Pibroch o' the M'Gregors?"
Stuart came across and leaned upon a corner of the table. "The
Pibroch of the M'Gregors?" he repeated.
"Nane other. 'Tis said to be Rob Roy's ain piper that gives warning when danger threatens ane o' the M'Gregors or any they love."
Stuart restrained a smile, and, "A well-meaning but melancholy44 retainer!" he commented.
"As well as I hear you now, laddie, I heard the pibroch on the day a certain woman first crossed my threshold, nigh thirty years ago, in Inverary. And as plainly as I heard it wailing45 then, I heard it the first evening that Miss Dorian came to this house!"
Torn between good-humoured amusement and real interest, "If I remember rightly," said Stuart, "Mlle. Dorian first called here just a week ago, and immediately before I returned from an Infirmary case?"
"Your memory is guid, Mr. Keppel."
"And when, exactly, did you hear this Warning?"
"Twa minutes before you entered the house; and I heard it again the now."
"What! you heard it to-night?"
"I heard it again just the now and I lookit out the window."
"Did you obtain a glimpse of Rob Roy's piper?"
"Ye're laughing at an old wife, laddie. No, but I saw Miss Dorian away in her car and twa minutes later I saw yourself coming round the corner."
"If she had only waited another two minutes," murmured Stuart. "No matter; she may return. And are these the only occasions upon which you have heard this mysterious sound, Mrs. M'Gregor?"
"No, Master Keppel, they are not. I assure ye something threatens. It wakened me up in the wee sma' hours last night—the piping—an' I lay awake shaking for long eno'."
"How extraordinary. Are you sure your imagination is not playing you tricks?"
"Ah, you're no' takin' me seriously, laddie."
"Mrs. M'Gregor"—he leaned across the table and rested his hands upon her shoulders—"you are a second mother to me, your care makes me feel like a boy again; and in these grey days it's good to feel like a boy again. You think I am laughing at you, but I'm not. The strange tradition of your family is associated with a tragedy in your life; therefore I respect it. But have no fear with regard to Mlle. Dorian. In the first place she is a patient; in the second—I am merely a penniless suburban practitioner. Good-night, Mrs. M'Gregor. Don't think of waiting up. Tell Mary to show Mademoiselle in here directly she arrives—that is if she really returns."
Mrs. M'Gregor stood up and walked slowly to the door. "I'll show
Mademoiselle in mysel', Mr. Keppel," she said,—"and show her out."
She closed the door very quietly.
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1
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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9
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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psychical
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| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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13
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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14
humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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17
apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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19
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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21
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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22
scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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23
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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25
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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27
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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28
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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29
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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30
auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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31
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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32
disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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33
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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34
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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35
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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36
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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37
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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38
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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39
insomnia
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| n.失眠，失眠症 | |
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40
meddlesome
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| adj.爱管闲事的 | |
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41
winsome
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| n.迷人的，漂亮的 | |
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42
density
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| n.密集，密度，浓度 | |
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43
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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44
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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45
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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