IIt proved fairly simple on the following morning for Victoria to go out byherself with few explanations. She had inquired about the Beit Melek Aliand had learnt it was a big house built right out on the river some waydown the West Bank.
So far Victoria had had very little time to explore her surroundings andshe was agreeably surprised when she came to the end of the narrowstreet and found herself actually on the riverbank. She turned to her rightand made her way slowly along the edge of the high bank. Sometimes thegoing was precarious—the bank had been eaten away and had not alwaysbeen repaired or built-up again. One house had steps in front of it which,if you took one more, would land you in the river on a dark night. Victorialooked down at the water below and edged her way round. Then, for awhile, the way was wide and paved. The houses on her right hand had anagreeable air of secrecy1. They offered no hint as to their occupancy. Occa-sionally the central door stood open and peering inside Victoria was fas-cinated by the contrasts. On one such occasion she looked into a courtyardwith a fountain playing and cushioned seats and deck chairs round it,with tall palms growing up and a garden beyond, that looked like thebackcloth of a stage set. The next house, looking much the same outside,opened on a litter of confusion and dark passages, with five or six dirtychildren playing in rags. Then she came to palm gardens in thick groves2.
On her left she had passed uneven3 steps leading down to the river and anArab boatman seated in a primitive4 rowing boat gesticulated and called,asking evidently if she wanted to be taken across to the other side. Shemust by now, Victoria judged, be just about opposite the Tio Hotel, thoughit was hard to distinguish differences in the architecture viewed from thisside and the hotel buildings looked more or less alike. She came now to aroad leading down through the palms and then to two tall houses with bal-conies. Beyond was a big house built right out on to the river with agarden and balustrade. The path on the bank passed on the inside of whatmust be the Beit Melek Ali or the House of King Ali.
In a few minutes more Victoria had passed its entrance and had come toa more squalid part. The river was hidden from her by palm plantationsfenced off with rusty6 barbed wire. On the right were tumbledown housesinside rough mudbrick walls, and small shanties7 with children playing inthe dirt and clouds of flies hanging over garbage heaps. A road led awayfrom the river and a car was standing8 there—a somewhat battered9 and ar-chaic car. By the car, Edward was standing.
“Good,” said Edward, “you’ve got here. Get in.”
“Where are we going?” asked Victoria, entering the battered automobilewith delight. The driver, who appeared to be an animate10 bundle of rags,turned round and grinned happily at her.
“We’re going to Babylon,” said Edward. “It’s about time we had a dayout.”
The car started with a terrific jerk and bumped madly over the rudepaving stones.
“To Babylon?” cried Victoria. “How lovely it sounds. Really to Babylon?”
The car swerved11 to the left and they were bowling12 along upon a well-paved road of imposing13 width.
“Yes, but don’t expect too much. Babylon—if you know what I mean—isn’t quite what it was.”
Victoria hummed.
“How many miles to Babylon?
Threescore and ten,
Can I get there by candlelight?
Yes, and back again.”
“I used to sing that when I was a small child. It always fascinated me.
And now we’re really going there!”
“And we’ll get back by candlelight. Or we should do. Actually you neverknow in this country.”
“This car looks very much as though it might break down.”
“It probably will. There’s sure to be simply everything wrong with it.
But these Iraqis are frightfully good at tying it up with string and sayingInshallah and then it goes again.”
“It’s always Inshallah, isn’t it?”
“Yes, nothing like laying the responsibility upon the Almighty14.”
“The road isn’t very good, is it?” gasped15 Victoria, bouncing in her seat.
The deceptively well-paved and wide road had not lived up to its promise.
The road was still wide but was now corrugated16 with ruts.
“It gets worse later on,” shouted Edward.
They bounced and bumped happily. The dust rose in clouds roundthem. Large lorries covered with Arabs tore along in the middle of thetrack and were deaf to all intimations of the horn.
They passed walled-in gardens, and parties of women and children anddonkeys and to Victoria it was all new and part of the enchantment17 of go-ing to Babylon with Edward beside her.
They reached Babylon bruised18 and shaken in a couple of hours. Themeaningless pile of ruined mud and burnt brick was somewhat of a disap-pointment to Victoria, who expected something in the way of columns andarches, looking like pictures she had seen of Baalbek.
But little by little her disappointment ebbed19 as they scrambled20 overmounds and lumps of burnt brick led by the guide. She listened with onlyhalf an ear to his profuse21 explanations, but as they went along the Proces-sional Way to the Ishtar Gate, with the faint reliefs of unbelievable anim-als high on the walls, a sudden sense of the grandeur22 of the past came toher and a wish to know something about this vast proud city that now laydead and abandoned. Presently, their duty to Antiquity23 accomplished,they sat down by the Babylonian Lion to eat the picnic lunch that Edwardhad brought with him. The guide moved away, smiling indulgently andtelling them firmly that they must see the Museum later.
“Must we?” said Victoria dreamily. “Things all labelled and put intocases don’t seem a bit real somehow. I went to the British Museum once. Itwas awful, and dreadfully tiring on the feet.”
“The past is always boring,” said Edward. “The future’s much more im-portant.”
“This isn’t boring,” said Victoria, waving a sandwich towards the panor-ama of tumbling brick. “There’s a feeling of—of greatness here. What’s thepoem ‘When you were a King in Babylon and I was a Christian24 Slave?’ Per-haps we were. You and I, I mean.”
“I don’t think there were any Kings of Babylon by the time there wereChristians,” said Edward. “I think Babylon stopped functioning some-where about five or six hundred BC. Some archaeologist or other is alwaysturning up to give lectures about these things—but I really never graspany of the dates—I mean not until proper Greek and Roman ones.”
“Would you have liked being a King of Babylon, Edward?”
Edward drew a deep breath.
“Yes, I should.”
“Then we’ll say you were. You’re in a new incarnation now.”
“They understood how to be Kings in those days!” said Edward. “That’swhy they could rule the world and bring it into shape.”
“I don’t know that I should have liked being a slave much,” said Victoriameditatively, “Christian or otherwise.”
“Milton was quite right,” said Edward. “‘Better to reign25 in Hell thanserve in Heaven.’ I always admired Milton’s Satan.”
“I never quite got around to Milton,” said Victoria apologetically. “But Idid go and see Comus at Sadler’s Wells and it was lovely and Margot Fon-teyn danced like a kind of frozen angel.”
“If you were a slave, Victoria,” said Edward, “I should free you and takeyou into my harem—over there,” he added gesticulating vaguely26 at a pileof debris27.
A glint came into Victoria’s eye.
“Talking of harems—” she began.
“How are you getting on with Catherine?” asked Edward hastily.
“How did you know I was thinking about Catherine?”
“Well, you were, weren’t you? Honestly, Viccy, I do want you to becomefriends with Catherine.”
“Don’t call me Viccy.”
“All right, Charing28 Cross. I want you to become friends with Catherine.”
“How fatuous29 men are! Always wanting their girlfriends to like eachother.”
Edward sat up energetically. He had been reclining with his hands be-hind his head.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Charing Cross. Anyway, your references toharems are simply silly—”
“No, they’re not. The way all those girls glower30 intensely at you andyearn at you! It makes me mad.”
“Splendid,” said Edward. “I love you to be mad. But to return to Cather-ine. The reason I want you to be friends with Catherine is that I’m fairlysure she’s the best way of approach to all the things we want to find out.
She knows something.”
“You really think so?”
“Remember what I heard her say about Anna Scheele?”
“I’d forgotten that.”
“How have you been getting on with Karl Marx? Any results?”
“Nobody’s made a beeline at me and invited me into the fold. In fact,Catherine told me yesterday the party wouldn’t accept me, because I’m notsufficiently politically educated. And to have to read all that dreary32 stuff—honestly, Edward, I haven’t the brains for it.”
“You are not politically aware, are you?” Edward laughed. “Poor Char-ing Cross. Well, well, Catherine may be frantic33 with brains and intensityand political awareness34, my fancy is still a little Cockney typist who can’tspell any words of three syllables35.”
Victoria frowned suddenly. Edward’s words brought back to her mindthe curious interview she had had with Dr. Rathbone. She told Edwardabout it. He seemed much more upset than she would have expected himto be.
“This is serious, Victoria, really serious. Try and tell me exactly what hesaid.”
Victoria tried her best to recall the exact words Rathbone had used.
“But I don’t see,” she said, “why it upsets you so.”
“Eh?” Edward seemed abstracted. “You don’t see — But my dear girl,don’t you realize that this shows that they’ve got wise to you. They’rewarning you off. I don’t like it Victoria—I don’t like it at all.”
He paused and then said gravely:
“Communists, you know, are very ruthless. It’s part of their creed36 tostick at nothing. I don’t want you knocked on the head and thrown intothe Tigris, darling.”
How odd, thought Victoria, to be sitting amidst the ruins of Babylon de-bating whether or not she was likely in the near future to be knocked onthe head and thrown into the Tigris. Half closing her eyes she thoughtdreamily, “I shall wake up soon and find I’m in London dreaming a won-derful melodramatic dream about dangerous Babylon. Perhaps,” shethought, closing her eyes altogether, “I am in London…and the alarm clockwill go off very soon, and I shall get up and go to Mr. Greenholtz’s office—and there won’t be any Edward….”
And at that last thought she opened her eyes again hastily to make surethat Edward was indeed really there (and what was it I was going to askhim at Basrah and they interrupted us and I forgot?) and it was not adream. The sun was glaring down in a dazzling and most un-London-likeway, and the ruins of Babylon were pale and shimmering37 with a back-ground of dark palms and sitting up with his back a little towards her wasEdward. How extraordinarily38 nicely his hair grew down with a little twirlinto his neck—and what a nice neck—bronzed red brown from the sun—with no blemishes39 on it—so many men had necks with cysts or pimpleswhere their collars had rubbed—a neck like Sir Rupert’s for instance, witha boil just starting.
Suddenly with a stifled40 exclamation41 Victoria sat bolt upright and herdaydreams were a thing of the past. She was wildly excited.
Edward turned an inquiring head.
“What’s the matter, Charing Cross?”
“I’ve just remembered,” said Victoria, “about Sir Rupert Crofton Lee.”
As Edward still turned a blank inquiring look upon her Victoria pro-ceeded to elucidate42 her meaning which truth to tell, she did not do veryclearly.
“It was a boil,” she said, “on his neck.”
“A boil on his neck?” Edward was puzzled.
“Yes, in the aeroplane. He sat in front of me, you know, and that hoodthing he wore fell back and I saw it—the boil.”
“Why shouldn’t he have a boil? Painful, but lots of people get them.”
“Yes, yes, of course they do. But the point is that that morning on thebalcony he hadn’t.”
“Hadn’t what?”
“Hadn’t got a boil. Oh, Edward, do try and take it in. In the aeroplane hehad a boil and on the balcony at the Tio he hadn’t got a boil. His neck wasquite smooth and unscarred—like yours now.”
“Well, I suppose it had gone away.”
“Oh no, Edward, it couldn’t have. It was only a day later, and it was justcoming up. It couldn’t have gone away—not completely without a trace.
So you see what it means—yes, it must mean—the man at the Tio wasn’tSir Rupert at all.”
She nodded her head with vehemence43. Edward stared at her.
“You’re crazy, Victoria. It must have been Sir Rupert. You didn’t see anyother difference in him.”
“But don’t you see, Edward, I’d never really looked at him properly—only at his—well, you might call it general effect. The hat—and the cape—and the swashbuckling attitude. He’d be a very easy man to impersonate.”
“But they’d have known at the Embassy—”
“He didn’t stay at the Embassy, did he? He came to the Tio. It was one ofthe minor44 secretaries or people who met him. The Ambassador’s in Eng-land. Besides, he’s travelled and been away from En gland45 so much.”
“But why—”
“Because of Carmichael, of course. Carmichael was coming to Baghdadto meet him—to tell him what he’d found out. Only they’d never met be-fore. So Carmichael wouldn’t know he wasn’t the right man — and hewouldn’t be on his guard. Of course—it was Rupert Crofton Lee (the falseone) who stabbed Carmichael! Oh, Edward, it all fits in.”
“I don’t believe a word of it. It’s crazy. Don’t forget Sir Rupert was killedafterwards in Cairo.”
“That’s where it all happened. I know now. Oh Edward, how awful. Isaw it happen.”
“You saw it happen—Victoria, are you quite mad?”
“No, I’m not in the least mad. Just listen, Edward. There was a knock onmy door—in the hotel in Heliopolis—at least I thought it was on my doorand I looked out, but it wasn’t—it was one door down, Sir Rupert CroftonLee’s. It was one of the stewardesses47 or air hostesses or whatever they callthem. She asked him if he would mind coming to BOAC office—just alongthe corridor. I came out of my room just afterwards. I passed a door whichhad a notice with BOAC on it, and the door opened and he came out. Ithought then that he had had some news that made him walk quite differ-ently. Do you see, Edward? It was a trap, the substitute was waiting, allready, and as soon as he came in, they just conked him on the head andthe other one came out and took up the part. I think they probably kepthim somewhere in Cairo, perhaps in the hotel as an invalid48, kept himdrugged and then killed him just at the right moment when the wrong onehad come back to Cairo.”
“It’s a magnificent story,” said Edward. “But you know, Victoria, quitefrankly you are making the whole thing up. There’s no corroboration49 ofit.”
“There’s the boil—”
“Oh, damn the boil!”
“And there are one or two other things.”
“What?”
“The BOAC notice on the door. It wasn’t there later. I remembered beingpuzzled when I found the BOAC office was on the other side of the en-trance hall. That’s one thing. And there’s another. That air stewardess46, theone who knocked at his door. I’ve seen her since—here in Baghdad—andwhat’s more, at the Olive Branch. The first day I went there. She came inand spoke50 to Catherine. I thought then I’d seen her before.”
After a moment’s silence, Victoria said:
“So you must admit, Edward, that it isn’t all my fancy.”
Edward said slowly:
“It all comes back to the Olive Branch—and to Catherine. Victoria, allragging apart, you’ve got to get closer to Catherine. Flatter her, butter herup, talk Bolshie ideas to her. Somehow or other get sufficiently31 intimatewith her to know who her friends are and where she goes and whom she’sin touch with outside the Olive Branch.”
“It won’t be easy,” said Victoria, “but I’ll try. What about Mr. Dakin.
Ought I to tell him about this?”
“Yes, of course. But wait a day or two. We may have more to go on,” Ed-ward sighed. “I shall take Catherine to Le select to hear the cabaret onenight.”
And this time Victoria felt no pang51 of jealousy52. Edward had spoken witha grim determination that ruled out any anticipation53 of pleasure in thecommission he had undertaken.
II
Exhilarated by her discoveries, Victoria found it no effort to greet Cath-erine the following day with an effusion of friendliness54. It was so kind ofCatherine she said, to have told her of a place to have her hair washed. Itneeded washing terribly badly. (This was undeniable, Victoria had re-turned from Babylon with her dark hair the colour of red rust5 from theclogging sand.)
“It is looking terrible, yes,” said Catherine, eyeing it with a certain mali-cious satisfaction. “You went out then in that dust storm yesterday after-noon?”
“I hired a car and went to see Babylon,” said Victoria. “It was very inter-esting, but on the way back, the dust storm got up and I was nearly chokedand blinded.”
“It is interesting, Babylon,” said Catherine, “but you should go withsomeone who understands it and can tell you about it properly. As foryour hair, I will take you to this Armenian girl tonight. She will give you acream shampoo. It is the best.”
“I don’t know how you keep your hair looking so wonderful,” said Vic-toria, looking with what appeared to be admiring eyes at Catherine’sheavy erections of greasy55 sausage-like curls.
A smile appeared on Catherine’s usually sour face, and Victoria thoughthow right Edward had been about flattery.
When they left the Olive Branch that evening, the two girls were on thefriendliest of terms. Catherine wove in and out of narrow passages and al-leys and finally tapped on an unpromising door which gave no sign ofhairdressing operations being conducted on the other side of it. Theywere, however, received by a plain but competent looking young womanwho spoke careful slow English and who led Victoria to a spotlessly cleanbasin with shining taps and various bottles and lotions56 ranged round it.
Catherine departed and Victoria surrendered her mop of hair into MissAnkoumian’s deft57 hands. Soon her hair was a mass of creamy lather58.
“And now if you please….”
Victoria bent59 forward over the basin. Water streamed over her hair andgurgled down the waste pipe.
Suddenly her nose was assailed60 by a sweet rather sickly smell that sheassociated vaguely with hospitals. A wet saturated61 pad was clasped firmlyover her nose and mouth. She struggled wildly, twisting and turning, butan iron grip kept the pad in place. She began to suffocate62, her head reeleddizzily, a roaring sound came in her ears….
And after that blackness, deep and profound.
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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shanties
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| n.简陋的小木屋( shanty的名词复数 )；铁皮棚屋；船工号子；船歌 | |
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standing
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battered
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animate
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| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
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swerved
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bowling
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imposing
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almighty
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gasped
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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enchantment
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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ebbed
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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profuse
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grandeur
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antiquity
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Christian
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reign
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vaguely
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debris
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charing
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| n.炭化v.把…烧成炭，把…烧焦( char的现在分词 )；烧成炭，烧焦；做杂役女佣 | |
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fatuous
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glower
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sufficiently
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dreary
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frantic
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awareness
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syllables
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creed
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shimmering
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extraordinarily
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blemishes
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| n.（身体的）瘢点( blemish的名词复数 )；伤疤；瑕疵；污点 | |
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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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exclamation
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elucidate
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| v.阐明，说明 | |
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vehemence
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minor
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gland
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stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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stewardesses
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| （飞机上的）女服务员，空中小姐( stewardess的名词复数 ) | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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corroboration
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| n.进一步的证实，进一步的证据 | |
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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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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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lotions
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| n.洗液，洗剂，护肤液( lotion的名词复数 ) | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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saturated
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| a.饱和的，充满的 | |
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suffocate
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| vt.使窒息，使缺氧，阻碍；vi.窒息，窒息而亡，阻碍发展 | |
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