Van Roon talked continuously, revealing a deep knowledge of all sorts of obscure matters; and in the brief intervals4, Nayland Smith talked also, with almost feverish5 rapidity. Plans for the future were discussed. I can recall no one of them.
I could not stifle6 my queer sentiments in regard to the mulatto, and every time I found him behind my chair I was hard put to repress a shudder7. In this fashion the strange evening passed; and to the accompaniment of distant, muttering thunder, we two guests retired8 to our chambers9 in Cragmire Tower. Smith had contrived11 to give me my instructions in a whisper, and five minutes after entering my own room, I had snuffed the candles, slipped a wedge, which he had given me, under the door, crept out through the window onto the guttered13 ledge3, and joined Smith in his room. He, too, had extinguished his candles, and the place was in darkness. As I climbed in, he grasped my wrist to silence me, and turned me forcibly toward the window.
“Listen!” he said.
I turned and looked out upon a prospect14 which had been a fit setting for the witch scene in Macbeth. Thunder clouds hung low over the moor15, but through them ran a sort of chasm16, or rift17, allowing a bar of lurid18 light to stretch across the drear, from east to west—a sort of lane walled by darkness. There came a remote murmuring, as of a troubled sea—a hushed and distant chorus; and sometimes in upon it broke the drums of heaven. In the west lightning flickered19, though but faintly, intermittently20.
Then came the call.
Out of the blackness of the moor it came, wild and distant—“Help! help!”
“Smith!” I whispered—“what is it? What...”
“Quick, Smith!” I cried, “quick, man! It’s Van Roon—he’s been dragged out... they are murdering him...”
Nayland Smith held me in a vise-like grip, silent, unmoved!
Louder and more agonized came the cry for aid, and I became more than ever certain that it was poor Van Roon who uttered it.
“Mr. Smith! Dr. Petrie! for God’s sake come... or... it will be ... too... late...”
“Smith!” I said, turning furiously upon my friend, “if you are going to remain here whilst murder is done, I am not!”
My blood boiled now with hot resentment22. It was incredible, inhuman23, that we should remain there inert24 whilst a fellow man, and our host to boot, was being done to death out there in the darkness. I exerted all my strength to break away; but although my efforts told upon him, as his loud breathing revealed, Nayland Smith clung to me tenaciously25. Had my hands been free, in my fury, I could have struck him, for the pitiable cries, growing fainter, now, told their own tale. Then Smith spoke26 shortly and angrily—breathing hard between the words.
“Be quiet, you fool!” he snapped; “it’s little less than an insult, Petrie, to think me capable of refusing help where help is needed!”
Like a cold douche his words acted; in that instant I knew myself a fool.
“You remember the Call of Siva?” he said, thrusting me away irritably27, “—two years ago, and what it meant to those who obeyed it?”
“You might have told me...”
“Told you! You would have been through the window before I had uttered two words!”
I realized the truth of his assertion, and the justness of his anger.
“Forgive me, old man,” I said, very crestfallen28, “but my impulse was a natural one, you’ll admit. You must remember that I have been trained never to refuse aid when aid is asked.”
The cries had ceased now, entirely30, and a peal31 of thunder, louder than any yet, echoed over distant Sedgemoor. The chasm of light splitting the heavens closed in, leaving the night wholly black.
“Don’t talk!” rapped Smith; “act! You wedged your door?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get into that cupboard, have your Browning ready, and keep the door very slightly ajar.”
He was in that mood of repressed fever which I knew and which always communicated itself to me. I spoke no further word, but stepped into the wardrobe indicated and drew the door nearly shut. The recess32 just accommodated me, and through the aperture33 I could see the bed, vaguely34, the open window, and part of the opposite wall. I saw Smith cross the floor, as a mighty35 clap of thunder boomed over the house.
A gleam of lightning flickered through the gloom.
I saw the bed for a moment, distinctly, and it appeared to me that Smith lay therein, with the sheets pulled up over his head. The light was gone, and I could hear big drops of rain pattering upon the leaden gutter12 below the open window.
My mood was strange, detached, and characterized by vagueness. That Van Roon lay dead upon the moor I was convinced; and—although I recognized that it must be a sufficient one—I could not even dimly divine the reason why we had refrained from lending him aid. To have failed to save him, knowing his peril36, would have been bad enough; to have refused, I thought was shameful37. Better to have shared his fate—yet...
The downpour was increasing, and beating now a regular tattoo38 upon the gutterway. Then, splitting the oblong of greater blackness which marked the casement39, quivered dazzlingly another flash of lightning in which I saw the bed again, with that impression of Smith curled up in it. The blinding light died out; came the crash of thunder, harsh and fearsome, more imminently40 above the tower than ever. The building seemed to shake.
Coming as they did, horror and the wrath41 of heaven together, suddenly, crashingly, black and angry after the fairness of the day, these happenings and their setting must have terrorized the stoutest42 heart; but somehow I seemed detached, as I have said, and set apart from the whirl of events; a spectator. Even when a vague yellow light crept across the room from the direction of the door, and flickered unsteadily on the bed, I remained unmoved to a certain degree, although passively alive to the significance of the incident. I realized that the ultimate issue was at hand, but either because I was emotionally exhausted43, or from some other cause, the pending44 climax45 failed to disturb me.
Going on tiptoe, in stockinged feet, across my field of vision, passed Kegan Van Roon! He was in his shirt-sleeves and held a lighted candle in one hand whilst with the other he shaded it against the draught46 from the window. He was a cripple no longer, and the smoked glasses were discarded; most of the light, at the moment when first I saw him, shone upon his thin, olive face, and at sight of his eyes much of the mystery of Cragmire Tower was resolved. For they were oblique47, very slightly, but nevertheless unmistakably oblique. Though highly educated, and possibly an American citizen, Van Roon was a Chinaman!
Upon the picture of his face as I saw it then, I do not care to dwell. It lacked the unique horror of Dr. Fu-Manchu’s unforgettable countenance48, but possessed49 a sort of animal malignancy which the latter lacked... He approached within three or four feet of the bed, peering—peering. Then, with a timidity which spoke well for Nayland Smith’s reputation, paused and beckoned50 to some one who evidently stood in the doorway51 behind him. As he did so I noted52 that the legs of his trousers were caked with greenish brown mud nearly up to the knees.
The huge mulatto, silent-footed, crossed to the bed in three strides. He was stripped to the waist, and, excepting some few professional athletes, I had never seen a torso to compare with that which, brown and glistening53, now bent54 over Nayland Smith. The muscular development was simply enormous; the man had a neck like a column, and the thews around his back and shoulders were like ivy55 tentacles56 wreathing some gnarled oak.
Whilst Van Roon, his evil gaze upon the bed, held the candle aloft, the mulatto, with a curious preparatory writhing57 movement of the mighty shoulders, lowered his outstretched fingers to the disordered bed linen58...
I pushed open the cupboard door and thrust out the Browning. As I did so a dramatic thing happened. A tall, gaunt figure shot suddenly upright from beyond the bed. It was Nayland Smith!
Upraised in his hand he held a heavy walking cane59. I knew the handle to be leaded, and I could judge of the force with which he wielded60 it by the fact that it cut the air with a keen swishing sound. It descended61 upon the back of the mulatto’s skull62 with a sickening thud, and the great brown body dropped inert upon the padded bed—in which not Smith, but his grip, reposed63. There was no word, no cry. Then:
“Shoot, Petrie! Shoot the fiend! Shoot...”
Van Roon, dropping the candle, in the falling gleam of which I saw the whites of the oblique eyes turned and leaped from the room with the agility64 of a wild cat. The ensuing darkness was split by a streak65 of lightning... and there was Nayland Smith scrambling66 around the foot of the bed and making for the door in hot pursuit.
We gained it almost together. Smith had dropped the cane, and now held his pistol in his hand. Together we fired into the chasm of the corridor, and in the flash, saw Van Roon hurling67 himself down the stairs. He went silently in his stockinged feet, and our own clatter68 was drowned by the awful booming of the thunder which now burst over us again.
Crack!—crack!—crack! Three times our pistols spat69 venomously after the flying figure... then we had crossed the hall below and were in the wilderness70 of the night with the rain descending71 upon us in sheets. Vaguely I saw the white shirt-sleeves of the fugitive72 near the corner of the stone fence. A moment he hesitated, then darted73 away inland, not toward Saul, but toward the moor and the cup of the inland bay.
“Steady, Petrie! steady!” cried Nayland Smith. He ran, panting, beside me. “It is the path to the mire10.” He breathed sibilantly between every few words. “It was out there... that he hoped to lure74 us... with the cry for help.”
A great blaze of lightning illuminated75 the landscape as far as the eye could see. Ahead of us a flying shape, hair lank76 and glistening in the downpour, followed a faint path skirting that green tongue of morass77 which we had noted from the upland. It was Kegan Van Roon. He glanced over his shoulder, showing a yellow, terror-stricken face. We were gaining upon him. Darkness fell, and the thunder cracked and boomed as though the very moor were splitting about us.
“Another fifty yards, Petrie,” breathed Nayland Smith, “and after that it’s unchartered ground.”
On we went through the rain and the darkness; then:
“Slow up! slow up!” cried Smith. “It feels soft!”
Indeed, already I had made one false step—and the hungry mire had fastened upon my foot, almost tripping me.
“Lost the path!”
We stopped dead. The falling rain walled us in. I dared not move, for I knew that the mire, the devouring78 mire, stretched, eager, close about my feet. We were both waiting for the next flash of lightning, I think, but, before it came, out of the darkness ahead of us rose a cry that sometimes rings in my ears to this hour. Yet it was no more than a repetition of that which had called to us, deathfully, awhile before.
“Help! help! for God’s sake help! Quick! I am sinking...”
Nayland Smith grasped my arm furiously.
“We dare not move, Petrie—we dare not move!” he breathed. “It’s God’s justice—visible for once.”
Then came the lightning; and—ignoring a splitting crash behind us—we both looked ahead, over the mire.
Just on the edge of the venomous green path, not thirty yards away, I saw the head and shoulders and upstretched, appealing arms of Van Roon. Even as the lightning flickered and we saw him, he was gone; with one last, long, drawn-out cry, horribly like the mournful wail79 of a sea gull80, he was gone!
That eerie81 light died, and in the instant before the sound of the thunder came shatteringly, we turned about... in time to see Cragmire Tower, a blacker silhouette82 against the night, topple and fall! A red glow began to be perceptible above the building. The thunder came booming through the caverns83 of space. Nayland Smith lowered his wet face close to mine and shouted in my ear:
“Kegan Van Roon never returned from China. It was a trap. Those were two creatures of Dr. Fu-Manchu...”
The thunder died away, hollowly, echoing over the distant sea...
“That light on the moor to-night?”
“You have not learned the Morse Code, Petrie. It was a signal, and it read:—S M I T H... SOS.”
“Well?”
“I took the chance, as you know. And it was Karamaneh! She knew of the plot to bury us in the mire. She had followed from London, but could do nothing until dusk. God forgive me if I’ve misjudged her—for we owe her our lives to-night.”
Flames were bursting up from the building beside the ruin of the ancient tower which had faced the storms of countless84 ages only to succumb85 at last. The lightning literally86 had cloven it in twain.
“The mulatto?...”
Again the lightning flashed, and we saw the path and began to retrace87 our steps. Nayland Smith turned to me; his face was very grim in that unearthly light, and his eyes shone like steel.
“I killed him, Petrie... as I meant to do.”
From out over Sedgemoor it came, cracking and rolling and booming toward us, swelling88 in volume to a stupendous climax, that awful laughter of Jove the destroyer of Cragmire Tower.
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收听单词发音
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1
haziest
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| 有薄雾的( hazy的最高级 )； 模糊的； 不清楚的； 糊涂的 | |
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bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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9
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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10
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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11
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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12
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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13
guttered
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| vt.形成沟或槽于…（gutter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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14
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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15
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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16
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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17
rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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18
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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19
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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21
agonized
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| v.使（极度）痛苦，折磨( agonize的过去式和过去分词 )；苦斗；苦苦思索；感到极度痛苦 | |
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22
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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23
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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24
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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25
tenaciously
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| 坚持地 | |
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26
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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27
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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28
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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29
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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30
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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31
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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32
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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33
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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34
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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35
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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37
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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38
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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39
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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40
imminently
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| 迫切地，紧急地 | |
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41
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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42
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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43
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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44
pending
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| prep.直到，等待…期间；adj.待定的；迫近的 | |
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45
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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46
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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47
oblique
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| adj.斜的，倾斜的，无诚意的，不坦率的 | |
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48
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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49
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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50
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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51
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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52
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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53
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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54
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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55
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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56
tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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57
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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58
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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59
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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60
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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61
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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62
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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63
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
agility
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| n.敏捷，活泼 | |
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65
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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66
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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67
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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68
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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69
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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70
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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71
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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72
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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74
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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75
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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76
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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77
morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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78
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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80
gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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81
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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82
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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83
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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84
countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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85
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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86
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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87
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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88
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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