Mark Easterbrook’s Narrative1
I felt absolutely no nervousness on my second visit to Bradley. In fact, I en-joyed it.
“Think yourself into the part,” Ginger2 urged me, before I set off, and thatwas exactly what I tried to do.
Mr. Bradley greeted me with a welcoming smile.
“Very pleased to see you,” he said, advancing a podgy hand. “So you’vebeen thinking your little problem over, have you? Well, as I said, no hurry.
Take your time.”
I said, “That’s just what I can’t do. It’s—well—it’s rather urgent….”
Bradley looked me over. He noted3 my nervous manner, the way Iavoided his eyes, the clumsiness of my hands as I dropped my hat.
“Well, well,” he said. “Let’s see what we can do about things. You wantto have a little bet on something, is that it? Nothing like a sporting flutterto take one’s mind off one’s—er—troubles.”
“It’s like this—” I said, and came to a dead stop.
I left it to Bradley to do his stuff. He did it.
“I see you’re a bit nervous,” he said. “Cautious. I approve of caution.
Never say anything your mother shouldn’t hear about! Now, perhaps youhave some idea that this office of mine might have a bug4 in it?”
I didn’t understand and my face showed it.
“Slang term for a microphone,” he explained. “Tape recorders. All thatsort of thing. No, I give you my personal word of honour that there’s noth-ing of that sort here. Our conversation will not be recorded in any way.
And if you don’t believe me,” his candour was quite engaging—“and whyshould you?—you’ve a perfect right to name a place of your own, a res-taurant, the waiting room in one of our dear English railway stations; andwe’ll discuss the matter there instead.”
I said that I was sure it was quite all right here.
“Sensible! That sort of thing wouldn’t pay us, I assure you. Neither younor I is going to say a word that, in legal parlance5, could be ‘used againstus.’ Now let’s start this way. There’s something worrying you. You find mesympathetic and you feel you’d like to tell me about it. I’m a man of exper-ience and I might be able to advise you. A trouble shared is a troublehalved, as they say. Suppose we put it like that?”
We put it like that, and I stumbled into my story.
Mr. Bradley was very adroit6. He prompted; eased over difficult wordsand phrases. So good was he, that I felt no difficulty at all in telling himabout my youthful infatuation for Doreen and our secretive marriage.
“Happens so often,” he said, shaking his head. “So often. Understand-able! Young man with ideals. Genuinely pretty girl. And there you are.
Man and wife before you can say Jack7 Robinson. And what comes of it?”
I went on to tell him what came of it.
Here I was purposefully vague over details. The man I was trying topresent would not have gone into sordid8 details. I presented only a pictureof disillusionment—a young fool realising that he had been a young fool.
I let it be assumed that there had been a final quarrel. If Bradley took itthat my young wife had gone off with another man, or that there had beenanother man in the offing all along—that was good enough.
“But you know,” I said anxiously, “although she wasn’t—well, wasn’tquite what I thought her, she was really a very sweet girl. I’d never havethought that she’d be like this—that she’d behave like this, I mean.”
“What exactly has she been doing to you?”
What my “wife” had done to me, I explained, was to come back.
“What did you think happened to her?”
“I suppose it seems extraordinary—but I really didn’t think. Actually, Isuppose, I assumed she must be dead.”
Bradley shook his head at me.
“Wishful thinking. Wishful thinking. Why should she be dead?”
“She never wrote or anything. I never heard from her.”
“The truth is you wanted to forget all about her.”
He was a psychologist in his way, this beady-eyed little lawyer.
“Yes,” I said gratefully. “You see, it wasn’t as though I wanted to marrysomeone else.”
“But you do now, eh, is that it?”
“Well—” I showed reluctance9.
“Come now, tell Papa,” said the odious10 Bradley.
I admitted, shamefacedly, that, yes, lately, I had considered marrying….
But I stuck my toes in and refused firmly to give him any details aboutthe girl in question. I wasn’t going to have her brought into this. I wasn’tgoing to tell him a thing about her.
Again, I think my reaction here was the correct one. He did not insist.
Instead he said:
“Quite natural, my dear sir. You’ve got over your nasty experience in thepast. You’ve found someone, no doubt, thoroughly11 suited to you. Able toshare your literary tastes and your way of life. A true companion.”
I saw then that he knew about Hermia. It would have been easy. Any in-quiries made about me would have revealed the fact that I had only oneclose woman friend. Bradley, since receiving my letter making the ap-pointment, must have found out all about me, all about Hermia. He wasfully briefed.
“What about divorce?” he asked. “Isn’t that the natural solution?”
I said: “There’s no question of divorce. She—my wife—won’t hear of it!”
“Dear, dear. What is her attitude towards you, if I may ask?”
“She—er—she wants to come back to me. She—she’s utterly12 unreason-able. She knows there’s someone, and—and—”
“Acting nasty…I see…Doesn’t look as though there’s any way out, unlessof course… But she’s quite young….”
“She’ll live for years,” I said bitterly.
“Oh, but you never know, Mr. Easterbrook. She’s been living abroad,you say?”
“So she tells me. I don’t know where she’s been.”
“May have been out East. Sometimes, you know, you pick up a germ outin those parts—dormant for years! And then you came back home, andsuddenly it blows up. I’ve known two or three cases like that. Might hap-pen in this case. If it will cheer you up,” he paused, “I’d bet a small amounton it.”
I shook my head.
“She’ll live for years.”
“Well, the odds13 are on your side, I admit… But let’s have a wager14 on it.
Fifteen hundred to one the lady dies between now and Christmas: how’sthat?”
“Sooner! It will have to be sooner. I can’t wait. There are things—”
I was purposely incoherent. I don’t know whether he thought that mat-ters between Hermia and myself had gone so far that I couldn’t stall fortime—or that my “wife” threatened to go to Hermia and make trouble. Hemay have thought that there was another man making a play for Hermia.
I didn’t mind what he thought. I wanted to stress urgency.
“Alter the odds a bit,” he said. “We’ll say eighteen hundred to one yourwife’s a goner in under a month. I’ve got a sort of feeling about it.”
I thought it was time to bargain — and I bargained. Protested that Ihadn’t got that amount of money. Bradley was skillful. He knew, by somemeans or other, just what sum I could raise in an emergency. He knewthat Hermia had money. His delicate hint that later, when I was married, Iwouldn’t feel the loss of my bet, was proof of that. Moreover, my urgencyput him in a fine position. He wouldn’t come down.
When I left him the fantastic wager was laid and accepted.
I signed some form of I.O.U. The phraseology was too full of legalphrases for me to understand. Actually I very much doubted that it hadany legal significance whatever.
“Is this legally binding15?” I asked him.
“I don’t think,” said Mr. Bradley, showing his excellent dentures, “that itwill ever be put to the test.” His smile was not a very nice one. “A bet’s abet16. If a man doesn’t pay up—”
I looked at him.
“I shouldn’t advise it,” he said softly. “No, I shouldn’t advise it. We don’tlike welshers.”
“I shan’t welsh,” I said.
“I’m sure you won’t, Mr. Easterbrook. Now for the er—arrangements.
Mrs. Easterbrook, you say, is in London. Where, exactly?”
“Do you have to know?”
“I have to have full details—the next thing to do is to arrange an ap-pointment with Miss Grey—you remember Miss Grey?”
I said of course I remembered Miss Grey.
“An amazing woman. Really an amazing woman. Most gifted. She’llwant something your wife has worn—a glove—handkerchief—anythinglike that—”
“But why? In the name of—”
“I know, I know. Don’t ask me why. I’ve not the least idea. Miss Greykeeps her secrets to herself.”
“But what happens? What does she do?”
“You really must believe me, Mr. Easterbrook, when I tell you that hon-estly I haven’t the least idea! I don’t know—and what is more, I don’t wantto know—let’s leave it at that.”
He paused, and then went on in an almost fatherly tone.
“My advice is as follows, Mr. Easterbrook. Pay a visit to your wife.
Soothe17 her down, let her think that you’re coming round to the idea of areconciliation. I should suggest that you have to go abroad for a fewweeks, but that on your return etc., etc….”
“And then?”
“Having purloined18 a trifle of daily wear in an unobtrusive manner, youwill go down to Much Deeping.” He paused thoughtfully. “Let me see. Ithink you mentioned on your previous visit that you had friends—rela-tions—in the neighbourhood?”
“A cousin.”
“That makes it very simple. This cousin will doubtless put you up for aday or so.”
“What do most people do? Stay at the local inn?”
“Sometimes, I believe—or they motor over from Bournemouth. Some-thing of that kind—but I know very little about the matter.”
“What—er—is my cousin likely to think?”
“You express yourself as intrigued19 by the inhabitants of the Pale Horse.
You want to participate in a séance there. Nothing can sound simpler. MissGrey and her medium friend often indulge in séances. You know whatspiritualists are. You go protesting that of course it’s nonsense, but that itwill interest you. That is all, Mr. Easterbrook. As you see, nothing can besimpler—”
“And—and, after that?”
He shook his head smiling.
“That’s all I can tell you. All, in fact, that I know. Miss Thyrza Grey willthen be in charge. Don’t forget to take the glove, or handkerchief, orwhatever it is with you. Afterwards, I would suggest that you take a littletrip abroad. The Italian Riviera is very pleasant at this time of year. Justfor a week or two, say.”
I said that I didn’t want to go abroad. I said I wanted to stay in England.
“Very well, then, but definitely not London. No, I must strongly advise,not London.”
“Why not?”
Mr. Bradley looked at me reprovingly.
“Clients are guaranteed complete—er—safety,” he said. “If they obey or-ders.”
“What about Bournemouth? Would Bournemouth do?”
“Yes, Bournemouth would be adequate. Stay at a hotel, make a few ac-quaintances, be seen in their company. The blameless life—that is whatwe aim at. You can always go on to Torquay if you get tired ofBournemouth.”
He spoke20 with the affability of a travel agent.
Once again I had to shake his podgy hand.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
narrative
|
|
| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ginger
|
|
| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
noted
|
|
| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
bug
|
|
| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
parlance
|
|
| n.说法；语调 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
adroit
|
|
| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
utterly
|
|
| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
wager
|
|
| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
abet
|
|
| v.教唆，鼓励帮助 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
soothe
|
|
| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
purloined
|
|
| v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
intrigued
|
|
| adj.好奇的，被迷住了的v.搞阴谋诡计(intrigue的过去式)；激起…的兴趣或好奇心；“intrigue”的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |