Tommy, having successfully got himself to the City office in question,was received by a man of 35 to 40 years of age who looked at him with theeye of one determined1 to do the worst without delay. Tommy felt that hewas suspected of many things, possibly carrying a bomb in some decept-ive container, or prepared to hijack2 or kidnap anyone or to hold up with arevolver the entire staff. It made Tommy extremely nervous.
‘You have an appointment with Mr Robinson? At what time, did yousay? Ah, three forty-five.’ He consulted a ledger3. ‘Mr Thomas Beresford, isthat right?’
‘Yes,’ said Tommy.
‘Ah. Just sign your name here, please.’
Tommy signed his name where he was told.
‘Johnson.’
A nervous-looking young man of about twenty-three seemed like an ap-parition rising out of a glass partitioned desk. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Take Mr Beresford up to the fourth floor to Mr Robinson’s office.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He led Tommy to a lift, the kind of lift that always seemed to have itsown idea of how it should deal with those who came into it. The doorsrolled open. Tommy passed in, the doors very nearly pinched him in doingso and just managed to slam themselves shut about an inch from hisspine.
‘Cold afternoon,’ said Johnson, showing a friendly attitude to someonewho was clearly being allowed to approach the high one in the highest.
‘Yes,’ said Tommy, ‘it always seems to be cold in the afternoons.’
‘Some say it’s pollution, some say it’s all the natural gas they’re takingout of the North Sea,’ said Johnson.
‘Oh, I haven’t heard that,’ said Tommy.
‘Doesn’t seem likely to me,’ said Johnson.
They passed the second floor and the third floor and finally arrived atthe fourth floor. Johnson led Tommy, again escaping the closing doors by amere inch, along a passage to a door. He knocked, was told to enter, heldthe door open, insinuated4 Tommy across the threshold, and said:
‘Mr Beresford, sir. By appointment.’
He went out and shut the door behind him. Tommy advanced. The roomseemed to be mainly filled by an enormous desk. Behind the desk sat arather enormous man, a man of great weight and many inches. He had, asTommy had been prepared for by his friend, a very large and yellow face.
What nationality he was Tommy had no idea. He might have been any-thing. Tommy had a feeling he was probably foreign. A German, perhaps?
Or an Austrian? Possibly a Japanese. Or else he might be very decidedlyEnglish.
‘Ah. Mr Beresford.’
Mr Robinson got up, shook hands.
‘I’m sorry if I come taking a lot of your time,’ said Tommy.
He had a feeling he had once seen Mr Robinson before or had had MrRobinson pointed5 out to him. Anyway on the occasion, whatever it hadbeen, he had been rather shy about it because obviously Mr Robinson wassomeone very important, and, he now gathered (or rather felt at once) hewas still very important.
‘There’s something you want to know about, I gather. Your friend,What’s-his-name, just gave me a brief résumé.’
‘I don’t suppose–I mean, it’s something perhaps I oughtn’t to bother youabout. I don’t suppose it’s anything of any importance. It was just–just–’
‘Just an idea?’
‘Partly my wife’s idea.’
‘I’ve heard about your wife. I’ve heard about you, too. Let me see, thelast time was M or N wasn’t it? Or N or M. Mm. I remember. Remember allthe facts and things. You got that Commander chap, didn’t you? The onewho was in the English Navy supposedly but was actually a very import-ant Hun. I still call them Huns occasionally, you know. Of course I knowwe’re all different now we’re in the Common Market. All in the nurseryschool together, as you might say. I know. You did a good bit of workthere. Very good bit indeed. And so did your missus. My word. All thosechildren’s books. I remember. Goosey, Goosey Gander wasn’t it–the onethat gave the show away? Where do you wander? Upstairs and downstairsand in my lady’s chamber6.’
‘Fancy you remembering that,’ said Tommy, with great respect.
‘Yes, I know. One’s always surprised when one remembers something. Itjust came back to me at that minute. So silly, you know, that really you’dnever have suspected it of being anything else, would you?’
‘Yes, it was a good show.’
‘Now, what’s the matter now? What are you up against?’
‘Well, it’s nothing, really,’ said Tommy. ‘It’s just–’
‘Come on, put it in your own words. You needn’t make a thing of it. Justtell me the story. Sit down. Take the weight off your feet. Don’t you know–or you will know, when you’re some years older–resting your feet is im-portant.’
‘I’m old enough already, I should think,’ said Tommy. ‘There can’t bemuch ahead of me now except a coffin7, in due course.’
‘Oh I wouldn’t say that. I tell you, once you get above a certain age youcan go on living practically for ever. Now then, what’s all this about?’
‘Well,’ said Tommy, ‘briefly, my wife and I went into a new house andthere was all the fuss of getting into a new house–’
‘I know,’ said Mr Robinson, ‘yes, I know the sort of thing. Electricians allover the floor. They pick holes and you fall into them and–’
‘There were some books there the people moving out wanted to sell. Alot of children’s books, all sorts of things. You know, Henty and things likethat.’
‘I remember. I remember Henty from my own youth.’
‘And in one book my wife was reading we found a passage underlined.
The letters were underlined and it made a sentence when you put it to-gether. And–this sounds awfully8 silly, what I’m going to say next–’
‘Well, that’s hopeful,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘If a thing sounds silly, I alwayswant to hear about it.’
‘It said, Mary Jordan did not die naturally. It must have been one of us.’
‘Very, very interesting,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I’ve never come across any-thing like that before. It said that, did it? Mary Jordan did not die a naturaldeath. And who was it who wrote it? Any clue of that?’
‘Apparently a boy of school age. Parkinson was the family’s name. Theylived in this house and he was one of the Parkinsons, we gathered. Alexan-der Parkinson. At least, anyway, he’s buried there in the churchyard.’
‘Parkinson,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Wait a bit. Let me think. Parkinson–yes,you know there was a name like that connected with things, but you don’talways remember who or what and where.’
‘And we’ve been very keen to learn who Mary Jordan was.’
‘Because she didn’t die a natural death. Yes, I suppose that would berather your line of country. But it seems very odd. What did you find outabout her?’
‘Absolutely nothing,’ said Tommy. ‘Nobody seems to remember herthere much, or say anything about her. At least somebody did say she waswhat we’d call an au pair girl nowadays or a governess or something likethat. They couldn’t remember. A Mamselle or a Frowline, they said. It’s allvery difficult, you see.’
‘And she died–what did she die of?’
‘Somebody brought a few foxglove leaves in with some spinach9 from thegarden, by accident, and then they ate it. Mind you, that probablywouldn’t kill you.’
‘No,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Not enough of it. But if you then put a strongdose of digitalin alkaloid in the coffee and just made sure that MaryJordan got it in her coffee, or in a cocktail10 earlier, then–then, as you say,the foxglove leaves would be blamed and it would all be taken to be an ac-cident. But Alexander Parker, or whatever the schoolboy’s name was, wastoo sharp for that. He had other ideas, did he? Anything else, Beresford?
When was this? First World War, Second World War, or before that?’
‘Before. Rumours11 passed down through elderly ancestors say she was aGerman spy.’
‘I remember that case–made a big sensation. Any German working inEngland before 1914 was always said to be a spy. The English officer in-volved was one always said to be “above suspicion”. I always look veryhard at anyone who is above suspicion. It’s all a long time ago, I don’tthink it’s ever been written up in recent years. I mean, not in the way thatthings are occasionally for public enjoyment12 when they release a bit ofstuff from the records.’
‘Yes, but it’s all rather sketchy13.’
‘Yes, it would be by now. It’s always been associated, of course, with thesubmarine secrets that were stolen around then. There was some aviationnews as well. A lot of that side of it, and that’s what caught the public in-terest, as you might say. But there are a lot of things, you know. There wasthe political side to it, too. A lot of our prominent politicians. You know,the sort of chaps people say, “Well, he has real integrity.” Real integrity isjust as dangerous as being above suspicion in the Services. Real integritymy foot,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I remember it with this last war. Some peoplehaven’t got the integrity they are credited with. One chap lived down nearhere, you know. He had a cottage on the beach, I think. Made a lot of dis-ciples, you know, praising Hitler. Saying our only chance was to get inwith him. Really the fellow seemed such a noble man. Had some wonder-ful ideas. Was so terribly keen to abolish all poverty and difficulties andinjustice– things of that kind. Oh yes. Blew the Fascist14 trumpet15 withoutcalling it Fascism. And Spain too, you know. Was in with Franco and allthat lot to begin with. And dear old Mussolini, naturally, spouting16 away.
Yes, there are always a lot of side-lines to it just before wars. Things thatnever came out and nobody ever really knew about.’
‘You seem to know everything,’ said Tommy. ‘I beg your pardon. Per-haps that’s rather rude of me. But it really is very exciting to come acrosssomeone who does seem to know about everything.’
‘Well, I’ve often had a finger in the pie, as you might say. You know,come into things on the side-lines, or in the background. One hears a gooddeal. One hears a good deal from one’s old cronies too, who were in it upto the neck and who knew the lot. I expect you begin to find that, don’tyou?’
‘Yes,’ said Tommy, ‘it’s quite true. I meet old friends, you know, andthey’ve seen other old friends and there’re quite a lot of things that, well,one’s friends knew and you knew. You didn’t get together just then butnow you do hear about them and they’re very interesting sometimes.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I see where you’re going–where you’re tending,you might say. It’s interesting that you should come across this.’
‘The trouble is,’ said Tommy, ‘that I don’t really know–I mean, perhapswe’re being rather silly. I mean, we bought this house to live in, the sort ofhouse we wanted. We’ve done it up the way we want and we’re trying toget the garden in some kind of shape. But I mean, I don’t want to get tiedup in this sort of stuff again. It’s just pure curiosity on our part. Somethingthat happened long ago and you can’t help thinking about it or wanting toknow why. But there’s no point in it. It’s not going to do anybody anygood.’
‘I know. You just want to know. Well, that’s the way the human being ismade. That’s what leads us to explore things, to go and fly to the moon, tobother about underwater discoveries, to find natural gas in the North Sea,to find oxygen supplied to us by the sea and not by the trees and forests.
Quite a lot of things they’re always finding out about. Just through curios-ity. I suppose without curiosity a man would be a tortoise. Very comfort-able life, a tortoise has. Goes to sleep all the winter and doesn’t eat any-thing more than grass as far as I know, to live all the summer. Not an in-teresting life perhaps, but a very peaceful one. On the other hand–’
‘On the other hand one might say man is more like a mongoose.’
‘Good. You’re a reader of Kipling. I’m so glad. Kipling’s not appreciatedas much as he should be nowadays. He was a wonderful chap. A wonder-ful person to read nowadays. His short stories, amazingly good, they are. Idon’t think it’s ever been realized enough.’
‘I don’t want to make a fool of myself,’ said Tommy. ‘I don’t want to mixmyself up with a lot of things which have nothing to do with me. Not any-thing to do with anybody nowadays, I should say.’
‘That you never know,’ said Mr Robinson.
‘I mean, really,’ said Tommy, who was now completely swamped in acloud of guilt17 for having disturbed a very important man, ‘I mean, I’m notjust trying to find out things.’
‘Got to try and find out things just to satisfy your wife, I suppose. Yes,I’ve heard of her. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting her, I don’t think.
Rather wonderful person, isn’t she?’
‘I think so,’ said Tommy.
‘That’s good hearing. I like people who stick together and enjoy theirmarriage and go on enjoying it.’
‘Really, I’m like the tortoise, I suppose. I mean, there we are. We’re oldand we’re tired, and although we’ve got very good health for our age, wedon’t want to be mixed up in anything nowadays. We’re not trying to buttinto anything. We just–’
‘I know. I know,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Don’t keep apologizing for it. Youwant to know. Like the mongoose, you want to know. And Mrs Beresford,she wants to know. Moreover, I should say from all I’ve heard of her andbeen told of her, I should say she will get to know somehow.’
‘You think she’s more likely to do it than I am?’
‘Well, I don’t think perhaps you’re quite as keen on finding out things asshe is, but I think you’re just as likely to get on to it because I think you’rerather good at finding sources. It’s not easy to find sources for somethingas long ago as that.’
‘That’s why I feel awful about having come and disturbed you. But Iwouldn’t have done it on my own. It was only Mutton-Chop. I mean–’
‘I know who you mean. Had mutton- chop whiskers and was ratherpleased with them at one time. That’s why he was called that. A nice chap.
Done good work in his time. Yes. He sent you to me because he knew that Iam interested in anything like that. I started quite early, you know. Pokingabout, I mean, and finding out things.’
‘And now,’ said Tommy, ‘now you’re the tops.’
‘Now who told you that?’ said Mr Robinson. ‘All nonsense.’
‘I don’t think it is,’ said Tommy.
‘Well,’ said Mr Robinson, ‘some get to the tops and some have the topsforced upon them. I would say the latter applies to me, more or less. I’vehad a few things of surpassing interest forced upon me.’
‘That business connected with–Frankfurt, wasn’t it?’
‘Ah, you’ve heard rumours, have you? Ah well, don’t think about themany more. They’re not supposed to be known much. Don’t think I’m goingto rebuff you for coming here asking me questions. I probably can answersome of the things you want to know. If I said there was something thathappened years ago that might result in something being known thatwould be–possibly–interesting nowadays, sometimes that would give onea bit of information about things that might be going on nowadays, thatmight be true enough. I wouldn’t put it past anyone or anything. I don’tknow what I can suggest to you, though. It’s a question of worry about,listen to people, find out what you can about bygone years. If anythingcomes along that you think might be interesting to me, just give me a ringor something. We’ll find some code words, you know. Just to makeourselves feel excited again, feel as though we really mattered. Crab-applejelly, how would that be? You know, you say your wife’s made some jars ofcrab-apple jelly and would I like a pot. I’ll know what you mean.’
‘You mean that– that I would have found out something about MaryJordan. I don’t see there’s any point in going on with that. After all, she’sdead.’
‘Yes. She’s dead. But–well, you see, sometimes one has the wrong ideasabout people because of what you’ve been told. Or because of what’s beenwritten.’
‘You mean we have wrong ideas about Mary Jordan. You mean, shewasn’t important at all.’
‘Oh yes, she could have been very important.’ Mr Robinson looked at hiswatch. ‘I have to push you off now. There’s a chap coming in, in tenminutes. An awful bore, but he’s high up in government circles, and youknow what life is nowadays. Government, government, you’ve got tostand it everywhere. In the office, in the home, in the supermarkets, onthe television. Private life. That’s what we want more of nowadays. Nowthis little fun and games that you and your wife are having, you’re inprivate life and you can look at it from the background of private life.
Who knows, you might find out something. Something that would be in-teresting. Yes. You may and you may not.
‘I can’t tell you anything more about it. I know some of the facts thatprobably nobody else can tell you and in due course I might be able to tellthem to you. But as they’re all dead and done with, that’s not really prac-tical.
‘I’ll tell you one thing that will help you perhaps in your investigations18.
You read about this case, the trial of Commander whatever-he-was–I’veforgotten his name now–and he was tried for espionage19, did a sentence forit and richly deserved it. He was a traitor20 to his country and that’s that.
But Mary Jordan–’
‘Yes?’
‘You want to know something about Mary Jordan. Well, I’ll tell you onething that might, as I say, help your point of view. Mary Jordan was–well,you can call it a spy but she wasn’t a German spy. She wasn’t an enemyspy. Listen to this, my boy. I can’t keep calling you “my boy”.’
Mr Robinson dropped his voice and leaned forward over his desk.
‘She was one of our lot.’
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
hijack
|
|
| v.劫持，劫机，拦路抢劫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
ledger
|
|
| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
insinuated
|
|
| v.暗示( insinuate的过去式和过去分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
coffin
|
|
| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
spinach
|
|
| n.菠菜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
cocktail
|
|
| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
rumours
|
|
| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
enjoyment
|
|
| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
sketchy
|
|
| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
fascist
|
|
| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
trumpet
|
|
| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
spouting
|
|
| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
investigations
|
|
| （正式的）调查( investigation的名词复数 )； 侦查； 科学研究； 学术研究 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
espionage
|
|
| n.间谍行为，谍报活动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
traitor
|
|
| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |