The so-called artistic4 temperament5 is compounded of great strength and great weakness; its virtues6 are whiter than those of ordinary people and its vices7 blacker. For such a personality Mrs. Sin embodied8 the idea of secret pleasure. Her bold good looks repelled9 Rita, but the knowledge in her dark eyes was alluring10.
“I arrange for you for Saturday night,” she said. “Cy Kilfane is coming with Mollie, and you bring—”
“Oh,” replied Rita hesitatingly, “I am sorry you have gone to so much trouble.”
“No trouble, my dear,” Mrs. Sin assured her. “Just a little matter of business, and you can pay the bill when it suits you.”
“I am frightfully excited!” cried Mollie Gretna. “It is so nice of you to have asked me to join your party. Of course Cy goes practically every week, but I have always wanted another girl to go with. Oh, I shall be in a perfectly12 delicious panic when I find myself all among funny Chinamen and things! I think there is something so magnificently wicked-looking about a pigtail—and the very name of Limehouse thrills me to the soul!”
That fixity of purpose which had enabled Rita to avoid the cunning snares13 set for her feet and to snatch triumph from the very cauldron of shame without burning her fingers availed her not at all in dealing14 with Mrs. Sin. The image of Monte receded15 before this appeal to the secret pleasure-loving woman, of insatiable curiosity, primitive16 and unmoral, who dwells, according to a modern cynic philosopher, within every daughter of Eve touched by the fire of genius.
She accepted the arrangement for Saturday, and before her visitors had left the dressing-room her mind was busy with plausible17 deceits to cover the sojourn18 in Chinatown. Something of Mollie Gretna's foolish enthusiasm had communicated itself to Rita.
Later in the evening Sir Lucien called, and on hearing of the scheme grew silent. Rita glancing at his reflection in the mirror, detected a black and angry look upon his face. She turned to him.
“Why, Lucy,” she said, “don't you want me to go?”
“Your wishes are mine, Rita,” he replied.
She was watching him closely.
“But you don't seem keen,” she persisted. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angry?”
“We are still friends, aren't we?”
“Of course. Do you doubt my friendship?”
Rita's maid came in to assist her in changing for the third act, and Pyne went out of the room. But, in spite of his assurances, Rita could not forget that fierce, almost savage20 expression which had appeared upon his face when she had told him of Mrs. Sin's visit.
Later she taxed him on the point, but he suffered her inquiry21 with imperturbable22 sangfroid23, and she found herself no wiser respecting the cause of his annoyance24. Painful twinges of conscience came during the ensuing days, when she found herself in her fiance's company, but she never once seriously contemplated25 dropping the acquaintance of Mrs. Sin.
She thought, vaguely26, as she had many times thought before, of cutting adrift from the entire clique27, but there was no return of that sincere emotional desire to reform which she had experienced on the day that Monte Irvin had taken her hand, in blind trust, and had asked her to be his wife. Had she analyzed28, or been capable of analyzing29, her intentions with regard to the future, she would have learned that daily they inclined more and more towards compromise. The drug habit was sapping will and weakening morale30, insidiously31, imperceptibly. She was caught in a current of that “sacred river” seen in an opium-trance by Coleridge, and which ran—
Pyne's big car was at the stage-door on the fateful Saturday night, for Rita had brought her dressing-case to the theatre, and having called for Kilfane and Mollie Gretna they were to proceed direct to Limehouse.
Rita, as she entered the car, noticed that Juan Mareno, Sir Lucien's man, and not the chauffeur33 with whom she was acquainted, sat at the wheel. As they drove off:
“Why is Mareno driving tonight, Lucy?” she asked.
Sir Lucien glanced aside at her.
“He is in my confidence,” he replied. “Fraser is not.”
“Oh, I see. You don't want Fraser to know about the Limehouse journey?”
“Naturally I don't. He would talk to all the men at the garage, and from South Audley Street the tit-bit of scandal would percolate34 through every stratum35 of society.”
Rita was silent for a few moments, then:
“Were you thinking about Monte?” she asked diffidently.
Pyne laughed.
“He would scarcely approve, would he?”
“No,” replied Rita. “Was that why you were angry when I told you I was going?”
“This 'anger,' to which you constantly revert36, had no existence outside your own imagination, Rita. But” he hesitated—“you will have to consider your position, dear, now that you are the future Mrs. Monte.” Rita felt her cheeks flush, and she did not reply immediately.
“I don't understand you, Lucy,” she declared at last. “How odd you are.”
“Am I? Well, never mind. We will talk about my eccentricity37 later. Here is Cyrus.”
Kilfane was standing38 in the entrance to the stage door of the theatre at which he was playing. As the car drew up he lifted two leather grips on to the step, and Mareno, descending39, took charge of them.
“Come along, Mollie,” said Kilfane, looking back.
Miss Gretna, very excited, ran out and got into the car beside Rita. Pyne lowered two of the collapsible seats for Kilfane and himself, and the party set out for Limehouse.
“Oh!” cried the fair-haired Mollie, grasping Rita's hand, “my heart began palpitating with excitement the moment I woke up this morning! How calm you are, dear.”
“I am only calm outside,” laughed Rita.
The joie de vivre and apparently40 unimpaired vitality41, of this woman, for whom (if half that which rumor42 whispered were true) vice had no secrets, astonished Rita. Her physical resources were unusual, no doubt, because the demand made upon them by her mental activities was slight.
As the car sped along the Strand43, where theatre-goers might still be seen making for tube, omnibus, and tramcar, and entered Fleet Street, where the car and taxicab traffic was less, a mutual44 silence fell upon the party. Two at least of the travellers were watching the lighted windows of the great newspaper offices with a vague sense of foreboding, and thinking how, bound upon a secret purpose, they were passing along the avenue of publicity45. It is well that man lacks prescience. Neither Rita nor Sir Lucien could divine that a day was shortly to come when the hidden presses which throbbed46 about them that night should be busy with the story of the murder of one and disappearance47 of the other.
Around St. Paul's Churchyard whirled the car, its engine running strongly and almost noiselessly. The great bell of St. Paul's boomed out the half-hour.
“Oh!” cried Mollie Gretna, “how that made me jump! What a beautifully gloomy sound!”
Cornhill and Leadenhall Street, along which presently their route lay, offered a prospect49 of lamp-lighted emptiness, but at Aldgate they found themselves amid East End throngs50 which afforded a marked contrast to those crowding theatreland; and from thence through Whitechapel and the seemingly endless Commercial Road it was a different world into which they had penetrated51.
Rita hitherto had never seen the East End on a Saturday night, and the spectacle afforded by these busy marts, lighted by naphtha flames, in whose smoky glare Jews and Jewesses, Poles, Swedes, Easterns, dagoes, and halfcastes moved feverishly52, was a fascinating one. She thought how utterly53 alien they were, the men and women of a world unknown to that society upon whose borders she dwelled; she wondered how they lived, where they lived, why they lived. The wet pavements were crowded with nondescript humanity, the night was filled with the unmusical voices of Hebrew hucksters, and the air laden54 with the smoky odor of their lamps. Tramcars and motorbuses were packed unwholesomely with these children of shadowland drawn55 together from the seven seas by the magnet of London.
She glanced at Pyne, but he was seemingly lost in abstraction, and Kilfane appeared to be asleep. Mollie Gretna was staring eagerly out on the opposite side of the car at a group of three dago sailors, whom Mareno had nearly run down, but she turned at that moment and caught Rita's glance.
“Don't you simply love it!” she cried. “Some of those men were really handsome, dear. If they would only wash I am sure I could adore them!”
“Even such charms as yours can be bought at too high a price,” drawled Sir Lucien. “They would gladly do murder for you, but never wash.”
Crossing Limehouse Canal, the car swung to the right into West India Dock Road. The uproar56 of the commercial thoroughfare was left far behind. Dark, narrow streets and sinister-looking alleys57 lay right and left of them, and into one of the narrowest and least inviting58 of all Mareno turned the car.
In the dimly-lighted doorway59 of a corner house the figure of a Chinaman showed as a motionless silhouette60.
“Oh!” sighed Mollie Gretna rapturously, “a Chinaman! I begin to feel deliciously sinful!”
The car came to a standstill.
“We get out here and walk,” said Sir Lucien. “It would not be wise to drive further. Mareno will deliver our baggage by hand presently.”
“But we shall all be murdered,” cried Mollie, “murdered in cold blood! I am dreadfully frightened!”
“Something of the kind is quite likely,” drawled Sir Lucien, “if you draw attention to our presence in the neighborhood so deliberately61. Walk ahead, Kilfane, with Mollie. Rita and I will follow at a discreet62 distance. Leave the door ajar.”
Temporarily subdued63 by Pyne's icy manner, Miss Gretna became silent, and went on ahead with Cyrus Kilfane, who had preserved an almost unbroken silence throughout the journey. Rita and Sir Lucien followed slowly.
“What a creepy neighborhood,” whispered Rita. “Look! Someone is standing in that doorway over there, watching us.”
“Take no notice,” he replied. “A cat could not pass along this street unobserved by the Chinese, but they will not interfere64 with us provided we do not interfere with them.”
Kilfane had turned to the right into a narrow court, at the entrance to which stood an iron pillar. As he and his companion passed under the lamp in a rusty65 bracket which projected from the wall, they vanished into a place of shadows. There was a ceaseless chorus of distant machinery66, and above it rose the grinding and rattling67 solo of a steam winch. Once a siren hooted68 apparently quite near them, and looking upward at a tangled69, indeterminable mass which overhung the street at this point, Rita suddenly recognized it for a ship's bow-sprit.
“Why,” she said, “we are right on the bank of the river!”
“Not quite,” answered Pyne. “We are skirting a dock basin. We are nearly at our destination.”
Passing in turn under the lamp, they entered the narrow court, and from a doorway immediately on the left a faint light shone out upon the wet pavement. Pyne pushed the door fully11 open and held it for Rita to enter. As she did so:
The uncanny cracked voice proceeded to give an excellent imitation of a police whistle, and concluded with that of the clicking of castanets.
“Shut the door, Lucy,” came the murmurous71 tones of Kilfane from the gloom of the stuffy72 little room, in the centre of which stood a stove wherefrom had proceeded the dim light shining out upon the pavement. “Light up, Sin Sin.”
“Sin Sin Wa! Sin Sin Wa!” shrieked73 the voice, and again came the rattling of imaginary castanets. “Smartest leg in Buenos Ayres—Buenos Ayres—p'lice chop—p'lice chop, lo!”
“Oh,” whispered Mollie Gretna, in the darkness, “I believe I am going to scream!”
Pyne closed the door, and a dimly discernible figure on the opposite side of the room stooped and opened a little cupboard in which was a lighted ship's lantern. The lantern being lifted out and set upon a rough table near the stove, it became possible to view the apartment and its occupants.
It was a small, low-ceiled place, having two doors, one opening upon the street and the other upon a narrow, uncarpeted passage. The window was boarded up. The ceiling had once been whitewashed74 and a few limp, dark fragments of paper still adhering to the walls proved that some forgotten decorator had exercised his art upon them in the past. A piece of well-worn matting lay upon the floor, and there were two chairs, a table, and a number of empty tea-chests in the room.
Upon one of the tea-chests placed beside the cupboard which had contained the lantern a Chinaman was seated. His skin was of so light a yellow color as to approximate to dirty white, and his face was pock-marked from neck to crown. He wore long, snake-like moustaches, which hung down below his chin. They grew from the extreme outer edges of his upper lip, the centre of which, usually the most hirsute75, was hairless as the lip of an infant. He possessed76 the longest and thickest pigtail which could possibly grow upon a human scalp, and his left eye was permanently77 closed, so that a smile which adorned78 his extraordinary countenance79 seemed to lack the sympathy of his surviving eye, which, oblique80, beady, held no mirth in its glittering depths.
The garments of the one-eyed Chinaman, who sat complacently81 smiling at the visitors, consisted of a loose blouse, blue trousers tucked into grey socks, and a pair of those native, thick-soled slippers82 which suggest to a Western critic the acme83 of discomfort84. A raven85, black as a bird of ebony, perched upon the Chinaman's shoulder, head a-tilt, surveying the newcomers with a beady, glittering left eye which strangely resembled the beady, glittering right eye of the Chinaman. For, singular, uncanny circumstance, this was a one-eyed raven which sat upon the shoulder of his one-eyed master!
The eye of Sin Sin Wa turned momentarily in her direction, but otherwise he did not stir a muscle.
“Are you ready for us, Sin?” asked Sir Lucien.
“All ready. Lola hate gotchee topside loom48 ready,” replied the Chinaman in a soft, crooning voice.
“Go ahead, Kilfane,” directed Sir Lucien.
He glanced at Rita, who was standing very near him, surveying the evil little room and its owner with ill-concealed disgust.
“This is merely the foyer, Rita,” he said, smiling slightly. “The state apartments are upstairs and in the adjoining house.”
“Oh,” she murmured—and no more.
Kilfane and Mollie Gretna were passing through the inner doorway, and Mollie turned.
“Smartest leg in Buenos Ayres!” shrieked the raven. “Sin Sin, Sin Sin!”
Uttering a frightened exclamation89, Mollie disappeared along the passage. Sir Lucien indicated to Rita that she was to follow; and he, passing through last of the party, closed the door behind him.
Sin Sin Wa never moved, and the raven, settling down upon the Chinaman's shoulder, closed his serviceable eye.
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收听单词发音
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1
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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2
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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3
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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8
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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13
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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15
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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16
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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21
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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sangfroid
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| n.沉着冷静 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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25
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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clique
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| n.朋党派系，小集团 | |
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analyzed
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| v.分析( analyze的过去式和过去分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析 | |
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29
analyzing
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| v.分析；分析( analyze的现在分词 )；分解；解释；对…进行心理分析n.分析 | |
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30
morale
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| n.道德准则，士气，斗志 | |
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insidiously
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| 潜在地，隐伏地，阴险地 | |
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32
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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percolate
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| v.过滤，渗透 | |
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stratum
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| n.地层，社会阶层 | |
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revert
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| v.恢复，复归，回到 | |
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eccentricity
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| n.古怪，反常，怪癖 | |
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38
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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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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40
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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vitality
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| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
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42
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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43
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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44
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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46
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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47
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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48
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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49
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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50
throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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51
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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52
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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53
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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54
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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55
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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56
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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57
alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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58
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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59
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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60
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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61
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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63
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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64
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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65
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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66
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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67
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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68
hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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70
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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71
murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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73
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
hirsute
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| adj.多毛的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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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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81
complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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82
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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83
acme
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| n.顶点，极点 | |
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84
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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85
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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86
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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87
loathsomely
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| adv.令人讨厌地，可厌地 | |
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88
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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89
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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