The man at the window was interested in a car which, approaching from the direction of the Circus, had slowed down immediately opposite and now was being turned, the chauffeur’s apparent intention being to pull up at the door below. He had seen the face of the occupant and had recognized it even from that elevation1. He was interested; and since only unusual things aroused any semblance2 of interest in the man who now stood at the window, one might have surmised3 that there was something unusual about the present visitor, or in his having decided4 to call at those chambers5; and that such was indeed his purpose an upward glance which he cast in the direction of the balcony sufficiently6 proved.
The watcher, who had been standing7 in a dark recess8 formed by the presence of heavy velvet9 curtains draped before the window, now opened the curtains and stepped into the lighted room. He was a tall, lean man having straight, jet-black hair, a sallow complexion10, and the features of a Sioux. A long black cigar protruded11 aggressively from the left corner of his mouth. His hands were locked behind him and his large and quite expressionless blue eyes stared straight across the room at the closed door with a dreamy and vacant regard. His dinner jacket fitted him so tightly that it might have been expected at any moment to split at the seams. As if to precipitate12 the catastrophe13, he wore it buttoned.
There came a rap at the door.
“In!” said the tall man.
The door opened silently and a manservant appeared. He was spotlessly neat and wore his light hair cropped close to the skull14. His fresh-coloured face was quite as expressionless as that of his master; his glance possessed15 no meaning. Crossing to the window, he extended a small salver upon which lay a visiting card.
“In!” repeated the tall man, looking down at the card.
His servant silently retired16, and following a short interval17 rapped again upon the door, opened it, and standing just inside the room announced: “Mr. Paul Harley.”
The door being quietly closed behind him, Paul Harley stood staring across the room at Nicol Brinn. At this moment the contrast between the types was one to have fascinated a psychologist. About Paul Harley, eagerly alert, there was something essentially18 British. Nicol Brinn, without being typical, was nevertheless distinctly a product of the United States. Yet, despite the stoic19 mask worn by Mr. Brinn, whose lack-lustre eyes were so unlike the bright gray eyes of his visitor, there existed, if not a physical, a certain spiritual affinity20 between the two; both were men of action.
Harley, after that one comprehensive glance, the photographic glance of a trained observer, stepped forward impulsively21, hand outstretched. “Mr. Brinn,” he said, “we have never met before, and it was good of you to wait in for me. I hope my telephone message has not interfered22 with your plans for the evening?”
Nicol Brinn, without change of pose, no line of the impassive face altering, shot out a large, muscular hand, seized that of Paul Harley in a tremendous grip, and almost instantly put his hand behind his back again. “Had no plans,” he replied, in a high, monotonous23 voice; “I was bored stiff. Take the armchair.”
Paul Harley sat down, but in the restless manner of one who has urgent business in hand and who is impatient of delay. Mr. Brinn stooped to a coffee table which stood upon the rug before the large open fireplace. “I am going to offer you a cocktail,” he said.
“I shall accept your offer,” returned Harley, smiling. “The ‘N. B. cocktail’ has a reputation which extends throughout the clubs of the world.”
Nicol Brinn, exhibiting the swift adroitness24 of that human dodo, the New York bartender, mixed the drinks. Paul Harley watched him, meanwhile drumming his fingers restlessly upon the chair arm.
“Here’s success,” he said, “to my mission.”
It was an odd toast, but Mr. Brinn merely nodded and drank in silence. Paul Harley set his glass down and glanced about the singular apartment of which he had often heard and which no man could ever tire of examining.
In this room the poles met, and the most remote civilizations of the world rubbed shoulders with modernity. Here, encased, were a family of snow-white ermine from Alaska and a pair of black Manchurian leopards25. A flying lemur from the Pelews contemplated26 swooping27 upon the head of a huge tigress which glared with glassy eyes across the place at the snarling28 muzzle29 of a polar bear. Mycenaean vases and gold death masks stood upon the same shelf as Venetian goblets30, and the mummy of an Egyptian priestess of the thirteenth dynasty occupied a sarcophagus upon the top of which rested a basrelief found in one of the shrines31 of the Syrian fish goddess Derceto, at Ascalon.
Arrowheads of the Stone Age and medieval rapiers were ranged alongside some of the latest examples of the gunsmith’s art. There were elephants’ tusks32 and Mexican skulls33; a stone jar of water from the well of Zem-Zem, and an ivory crucifix which had belonged to Torquemada. A mat of human hair from Borneo overlay a historical and unique rug woven in Ispahan and entirely34 composed of fragments of Holy Carpets from the Kaaba at Mecca.
“I take it,” said Mr. Brinn, suddenly, “that you are up against a stiff proposition.”
Paul Harley, accepting a cigarette from an ebony box (once the property of Henry VIII) which the speaker had pushed across the coffee table in his direction, stared up curiously35 into the sallow, aquiline36 face. “You are right. But how did you know?”
“You look that way. Also—you were followed. Somebody knows you’ve come here.”
Harley leaned forward, resting one hand upon the table. “I know I was followed,” he said, sternly. “I was followed because I have entered upon the biggest case of my career.” He paused and smiled in a very grim fashion. “A suspicion begins to dawn upon my mind that if I fail it will also be my last case. You understand me?”
“I understand absolutely,” replied Nicol Brinn. “These are dull days. It’s meat and drink to me to smell big danger.”
Paul Harley lighted a cigarette and watched the speaker closely the while. His expression, as he did so, was an odd one. Two courses were open to him, and he was mentally debating their respective advantages.
“I have come to you to-night, Mr. Brinn,” he said finally, “to ask you a certain question. Unless the theory upon which I am working is entirely wrong, then, supposing that you are in a position to answer my question I am logically compelled to suppose, also, that you stand in peril37 of your life.”
“Good,” said Mr. Brinn. “I was getting sluggish38.” In three long strides he crossed the room and locked the door. “I don’t doubt Hoskins’s honesty,” he explained, reading the inquiry39 in Harley’s eyes, “but an A1 intelligence doesn’t fold dress pants at thirty-nine.”
Only one very intimate with the taciturn speaker could have perceived any evidence of interest in that imperturbable40 character. But Nicol Brinn took his cheroot between his fingers, quickly placed a cone41 of ash in a little silver tray (the work of Benvenuto Cellini), and replaced the cheroot not in the left but in the right corner of his mouth. He was excited.
“You are out after one of the big heads of the crook42 world,” he said. “He knows it and he’s trailing you. My luck’s turned. How can I help?”
Harley stood up, facing Mr. Brinn. “He knows it, as you say,” he replied, “and I hold my life in my hands. But from your answer to the question which I have come here to-night to ask you, I shall conclude whether or not your danger at the moment is greater than mine.”
“Good,” said Nicol Brinn.
In that unique room, at once library and museum, amid relics43 of a hundred ages, spoil of the chase, the excavator, and the scholar, these two faced each other; and despite the peaceful quiet of the apartment up to which as a soothing44 murmur45 stole the homely46 sounds of Piccadilly, each saw in the other’s eyes recognition of a deadly peril. It was a queer, memorable47 moment.
“My question is simple but strange,” said Paul Harley. “It is this: What do you know of ‘Fire-Tongue’?”
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1
elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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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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6
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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7
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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8
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
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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10
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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15
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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stoic
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| n.坚忍克己之人，禁欲主义者 | |
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affinity
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| n.亲和力，密切关系 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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23
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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24
adroitness
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leopards
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| n.豹( leopard的名词复数 )；本性难移 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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28
snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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29
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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31
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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32
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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34
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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38
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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40
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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41
cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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42
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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43
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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44
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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45
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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46
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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47
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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