A soft sound behind him made him turn sharply. A girl was standingthere, a remarkably1 pretty girl with brown hair curling round her earsand rather timid-looking dark-blue eyes. She flushed a little with embar-rassment before she spoke4.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam, isn’t it?” she said.
“Yes. I—”
“I’m Rose Humbleby. Bridget told me that—that you knew some peoplewho knew my father.”
Luke had the grace to flush slightly under his tan.
“It was a long time ago,” he said rather lamely6. “They—er—knew him asa young man—before he married.”
“Oh, I see.”
Rose Humbleby looked a little crestfallen7. But she went on:
“You’re writing a book, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I’m making notes for one, that is. About local superstitions8. All thatsort of thing.”
“I see. It sounds frightfully interesting.”
“It will probably be as dull as ditch water,” Luke assured her.
“Oh, no, I’m sure it won’t.”
Luke smiled at her.
He thought:
“Our Dr. Thomas is in luck!”
“There are people,” he said, “who can make the most exciting subjectunbearably boring. I’m afraid I’m one of them.”
“Oh, but why should you be?”
“I don’t know. But the conviction is growing upon me.”
Rose Humbleby said:
“You might be one of the people who make dull subjects sound fright-fully9 exciting!”
“Now that is a nice thought,” said Luke. “Thank you for it.”
Rose Humbleby smiled back. Then she said:
“Do you believe in—in superstitions and all that?”
“That’s a difficult question. It doesn’t follow, you know. One can be in-terested in things one doesn’t believe in.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” the girl sounded doubtful.
“Are you superstitious10?”
“N-no—I don’t think so. But I do think things come in—in waves.”
“Waves?”
“Waves of bad luck and good luck. I mean—I feel as though lately allWychwood was under a spell of—of misfortune. Father dying—and MissPinkerton being run over, and that little boy who fell out of the window. I—I began to feel as though I hated this place—as though I must get away!”
Her breath came rather faster. Luke looked at her thoughtfully.
“So you feel like that?”
“Oh! I know it’s silly. I suppose really it was poor daddy dying so unex-pectedly — it was so horribly sudden.” She shivered. “And then MissPinkerton. She said—”
The girl paused.
“What did she say? She was a delightful11 old lady, I thought—very like arather special aunt of mine.”
“Oh, did you know her?” Rose’s face lit up. “I was very fond of her andshe was devoted12 to daddy. But I’ve sometimes wondered if she was whatthe Scotch13 call ‘fey.’”
“Why?”
“Because—it’s so odd—she seemed quite afraid that something was go-ing to happen to daddy. She almost warned me. Especially about accidents.
And then that day—just before she went up to town—she was so odd inher manner—absolutely in a dither. I really do think, Mr. Fitzwilliam, thatshe was one of those people who have second sight. I think she knew thatsomething was going to happen to her. And she must have known thatsomething was going to happen to daddy too. It’s—it’s rather frightening,that sort of thing!”
She moved a step nearer to him.
“There are times when one can foresee the future,” said Luke. “It isn’talways supernatural, though.”
“No, I suppose it’s quite natural really—just a faculty14 that most peoplelack. All the same it—worries me—”
“You mustn’t worry,” said Luke gently. “Remember, it’s all behind younow. It’s no good going back over the past. It’s the future one has to livefor.”
“I know. But there’s more, you see…” Rose hesitated. “There was some-thing—to do with your cousin.”
“My cousin? Bridget?”
“Yes. Miss Pinkerton was worried about her in some way. She was al-ways asking me questions…I think she was afraid for her—too.”
Luke turned sharply, scanning the hillside. He had an unreasoningsense of fear. Bridget — alone with the man whose hands had that un-healthy hue15 of greenish decomposing16 flesh! Fancy—all fancy! Ellsworthywas only a harmless dilettante17 who played at shopkeeping.
As though reading his thoughts, Rose said:
“Do you like Mr. Ellsworthy?”
“Emphatically no.”
“Geoffrey—Dr. Thomas, you know, doesn’t like him either.”
“And you?”
“Oh, no—I think he’s dreadful.” She drew a little nearer. “There’s a lot oftalk about him. I was told that he had some queer ceremony in theWitches’ Meadow—a lot of his friends came down from London—fright-fully queer-looking people. And Tommy Pierce was a kind of acolyte18.”
“Tommy Pierce?” said Luke sharply.
“Yes. He had a surplice and a red cassock.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, some time ago—I think it was in March.”
“Tommy Pierce seems to have been mixed-up in everything that evertook place in this village.”
Rose said:
“He was frightfully inquisitive19. He always had to know what was goingon.”
“He probably knew a bit too much in the end,” said Luke grimly.
Rose accepted the words at their face value.
“He was rather an odious20 little boy. He liked cutting up wasps21 and heteased dogs.”
“The kind of boy whose decease is hardly to be regretted!”
“No, I suppose not. It was terrible for his mother, though.”
“I gather she has five blessings22 left to console her. She’s got a goodtongue, that woman.”
“She does talk a lot, doesn’t she?”
“After buying a few cigarettes from her, I feel I know the full history ofeveryone in the place!”
Rose said ruefully:
“That’s the worst of a place like this. Everybody knows everything abouteverybody else.”
“Oh, no,” said Luke.
She looked at him inquiringly.
Luke said with significance:
“No one human being knows the full truth about another human being.”
Rose’s face grew grave. She gave a slight involuntary shiver.
“No,” she said slowly. “I suppose that’s true.”
“Not even one’s nearest and dearest,” said Luke.
“Not even—” she stopped. “Oh, I suppose you’re right—but I wish youwouldn’t say frightening things like that, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“Does it frighten you?”
Slowly she nodded her head.
Then she turned abruptly23.
“I must be going now. If—if you have nothing better to do—I mean ifyou could—do come and see us. Mother would—would like to see you be-cause of your knowing friends of daddy’s long ago.”
She walked slowly away down the road. Her head was bent24 a little asthough some weight of care of perplexity bowed it down.
Luke stood looking after her. A sudden wave of solicitude25 swept overhim. He felt a longing26 to shield and protect this girl.
From what? Asking himself the question, he shook his head with a mo-mentary impatience27 at himself. It was true that Rose Humbleby had re-cently lost her father, but she had a mother, and she was engaged to bemarried to a decidedly attractive young man who was fully adequate toanything in the protection line. Then why should he, Luke Fitzwilliam, beassailed by this protection complex?
Good old sentimentality to the fore3 again, thought Luke. The protectivemale! Flourishing in the Victorian era, going strong in the Edwardian, andstill showing signs of life despite what our friend Lord Whitfield wouldcall the rush and strain of modern life!
“All the same,” he said to himself as he strolled on towards the loomingmass of Ashe Ridge5, “I like that girl. She’s much too good for Thomas—acool, superior devil like that.”
A memory of the doctor’s last smile on the doorstep recurred28 to him. De-cidedly smug it had been! Complacent29!
The sound of footsteps a little way ahead roused Luke from his slightlyirritable meditations30. He looked up to see young Mr. Ellsworthy comingdown the path from the hillside. His eyes were on the ground and he wassmiling to himself. His expression struck Luke disagreeably. Ellsworthywas not so much walking as prancing—like a man who keeps time to somedevilish little jig31 running in his brain. His smile was a strange secret con-tortion of the lips—it had a gleeful slyness that was definitely unpleasant.
Luke had stopped, and Ellsworthy was nearly abreast32 of him when he atlast looked up. His eyes, malicious33 and dancing, met the other man’s forjust a minute before recognition came. Then, or so it seemed to Luke, acomplete change came over the man. Where a minute before there hadbeen the suggestion of a dancing satyr, there was now a somewhat effem-inate and priggish young man.
“Oh, Mr. Fitzwilliam, good morning.”
“Good morning,” said Luke. “Have you been admiring the beauties ofNature?”
Mr. Ellsworthy’s long, pale hands flew up in a reproving gesture.
“Oh, no, no—oh, dear me, no. I abhor34 Nature. Such a coarse, unimagin-ative wench. I have always held that one cannot enjoy life until one hasput Nature in her place.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“There are ways!” said Mr. Ellsworthy. “In a place like this, a deliciousprovincial spot, there are some most delectable35 amusements if one has thego?t—the flair36. I enjoy life, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
“So do I,” said Luke.
“Mens sana in corpore sano,” said Mr. Ellsworthy. His tone was delicatelyironic. “I’m sure that’s so true of you.”
“There are worse things,” said Luke.
“My dear fellow! Sanity37 is the one unbelievable bore. One must be mad—deliciously mad—perverted—slightly twisted—then one sees life from anew and entrancing angle.”
“The leper’s squint,” suggested Luke.
“Ah, very good—very good—quite witty38! But there’s something in it, youknow. An interesting angle of vision. But I mustn’t detain you. You’re hav-ing exercise—one must have exercise—the public school spirit!”
“As you say,” said Luke, and with a curt39 nod walked on.
He thought:
“I’m getting too darned imaginative. The fellow’s just an ass2, that’s all.”
But some indefinable uneasiness drove his feet on faster. That queer,sly, triumphant40 smile that Ellsworthy had had on his face—was that justimagination on his, Luke’s part? And his subsequent impression that ithad been wiped off as though by a sponge the moment the other mancaught sight of Luke coming towards him—what of that?
And with quickening uneasiness he thought:
“Bridget? Is she all right? They came up here together and he came backalone.”
He hurried on. The sun had come out while he was talking to RoseHumbleby. Now it had gone in again. The sky was dull and menacing, andwind came in sudden erratic41 little puffs42. It was as though he had steppedout of normal everyday life into that queer half-world of enchantment43, theconsciousness of which had enveloped44 him ever since he came to Wych-wood.
He turned a corner and came out on the flat ledge45 of green grass thathad been pointed46 out to him from below and which went, he knew, by thename of the Witches’ Meadow. It was here, so tradition had it, that thewitches had held revelry on Walpurgis Night and Hallowe’en.
And then a quick wave of relief swept over him. Bridget was here. Shesat with her back against a rock on the hillside. She was sitting bent over,her head in her hands.
He walked quickly over to her. Lovely springing turf strangely greenand fresh.
He said:
“Bridget?”
Slowly she raised her face from her hands. Her face troubled him. Shelooked as though she were returning from some far-off world, as thoughshe had difficulty in adjusting herself to the world of now and here.
Luke said—rather inadequately47:
“I say—you’re—you’re all right, aren’t you?”
It was a minute or two before she answered—as though she still had notquite come back from that far-off world that had held her. Luke felt thathis words had to travel a long way before they reached her.
Then she said:
“Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?”
And now her voice was sharp and almost hostile.
Luke grinned.
“I’m hanged if I know. I got the wind up about you suddenly.”
“Why?”
“Mainly, I think, because of the melodramatic atmosphere in which I’mliving at present. It makes me see things out of all proportion. If I losesight of you for an hour or two I naturally assume that the next thing willbe to find your gory48 corpse49 in a ditch. It would be in a play or a book.”
“Heroines are never killed,” said Bridget.
“No, but—”
Luke stopped—just in time.
“What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.”
Thank goodness he had just stopped himself in time. One couldn’t verywell say to an attractive young woman, “But you’re not the heroine.”
Bridget went on:
“They are abducted50, imprisoned51, left to die of sewer52 gas or be drownedin cellars—they are always in danger, but they don’t ever die.”
“Nor even fade away,” said Luke.
He went on:
“So this is the Witches’ Meadow?”
“Yes.”
He looked down at her.
“You only need a broomstick,” he said kindly53.
“Thank you. Mr. Ellsworthy said much the same.”
“I met him just now,” said Luke.
“Did you talk to him at all?”
“Yes. I think he tried to annoy me.”
“Did he succeed?”
“His methods were rather childish.” He paused and then went on ab-ruptly. “He’s an odd sort of fellow. One minute you think he’s just a mess—and then suddenly one wonders if there isn’t a bit more to it than that.”
Bridget looked up at him.
“You’ve felt that too?”
“You agree then?”
“Yes.”
Luke waited.
Bridget said:
“There’s something—odd about him. I’ve been wondering you know…Ilay awake last night racking my brains. About the whole business. Itseemed to me that if there was a—a killer54 about, I ought to know who itwas! I mean, living down here and all that. I thought and I thought and itcame to this—if there is a killer, he must definitely be mad.”
Thinking of what Dr. Thomas had said, Luke asked:
“You don’t think that a murderer can be as sane55 as you or I?”
“Not this kind of a murderer. As I see it, this murderer must be crazy.
And that, you see, brought me straight to Ellsworthy. Of all the peopledown here, he’s the only one who is definitely queer. He is queer, youcan’t get away from it!”
Luke said doubtfully:
“There are a good many of his sort, dilettanti, poseurs—usually quiteharmless.”
“Yes. But I think there might be a little more than that. He’s got suchnasty hands.”
“You noticed that? Funny, I did too!”
“They’re not just white—they’re green.”
“They do give one that effect. All the same, you can’t convict a man ofbeing a murderer because of the colour of his flesh tints56.”
“Oh, quite. What we want is evidence.”
“Evidence!” growled57 Luke. “Just the one thing that’s absolutely lacking.
The man’s been too careful. A careful murderer! A careful lunatic!”
“I’ve been trying to help,” said Bridget.
“With Ellsworthy, you mean?”
“Yes. I thought I could probably tackle him better than you could. I’vemade a beginning.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, it seems that he has a kind of little coterie58 — a band of nastyfriends. They come down here from time to time and celebrate.”
“Do you mean what are called nameless orgies?”
“I don’t know about nameless but certainly orgies. Actually it all soundsvery silly and childish.”
“I suppose they worship the devil and do obscene dances.”
“Something of the kind. Apparently59 they get a kick out of it.”
“I can contribute something to this,” said Luke. “Tommy Pierce took partin one of their ceremonies. He was an acolyte. He had a red cassock.”
“So he knew about it?”
“Yes. And that might explain his death.”
“You mean he talked about it?”
“Yes—or he may have tried a spot of quiet blackmail60.”
Bridget said thoughtfully:
“I know it’s all fantastic—but it doesn’t seem quite so fantastic when ap-plied to Ellsworthy as it does to anyone else.”
“No, I agree — the thing becomes just conceivable instead of beingludicrously unreal.”
“We’ve got a connection with two of the victims,” said Bridget. “TommyPierce and Amy Gibbs.”
“Where do the publican and Humbleby come in?”
“At the moment they don’t.”
“Not the publican. But I can imagine a motive61 for Humbleby’s removal.
He was a doctor and he may have tumbled to Ellsworthy’s abnormalstate.”
“Yes, that’s possible.”
Then Bridget laughed.
“I did my stuff pretty well this morning. My psychic62 possibilities aregrand, it seems, and when I told how one of my great-great-grandmothershad a near escape of being burnt for witchcraft63 my stock went soaring up.
I rather think that I shall be invited to take part in the orgies at the nextmeeting of the Satanic Games whenever that may be.”
Luke said:
“Bridget, for God’s sake, be careful.”
She looked at him, surprised. He got up.
“I met Humbleby’s daughter just now. We were talking about MissPinkerton. And the Humbleby girl said that Miss Pinkerton had been wor-ried about you.”
Bridget, in the act of rising, stopped as though frozen into immobility.
“What’s that? Miss Pinkerton—worried—about me?”
“That’s what Rose Humbleby said.”
“Rose Humbleby said that?”
“Yes.”
“What more did she say?”
“Nothing more.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
There was a pause, then Bridget said, “I see.”
“Miss Pinkerton was worried about Humbleby and he died. Now I hearshe was worried about you—”
Bridget laughed. She stood up and shook her head so that her long blackhair flew out round her head.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “The devil looks after his own.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
remarkably
|
|
| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
fore
|
|
| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
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： |
|
|
|
|
5
ridge
|
|
| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
lamely
|
|
| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
crestfallen
|
|
| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
superstitions
|
|
| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
superstitious
|
|
| adj.迷信的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
delightful
|
|
| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
scotch
|
|
| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
faculty
|
|
| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
decomposing
|
|
| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
dilettante
|
|
| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
acolyte
|
|
| n.助手，侍僧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
inquisitive
|
|
| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
wasps
|
|
| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
blessings
|
|
| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bent
|
|
| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
solicitude
|
|
| n.焦虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
impatience
|
|
| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
recurred
|
|
| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
complacent
|
|
| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
meditations
|
|
| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
jig
|
|
| n.快步舞（曲）；v.上下晃动；用夹具辅助加工；蹦蹦跳跳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
abreast
|
|
| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
malicious
|
|
| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
abhor
|
|
| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
delectable
|
|
| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
flair
|
|
| n.天赋，本领，才华；洞察力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
sanity
|
|
| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
witty
|
|
| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
curt
|
|
| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
triumphant
|
|
| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
erratic
|
|
| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
puffs
|
|
| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
enchantment
|
|
| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
enveloped
|
|
| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
ledge
|
|
| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
inadequately
|
|
| ad.不够地；不够好地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
gory
|
|
| adj.流血的；残酷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
corpse
|
|
| n.尸体，死尸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
abducted
|
|
| 劫持，诱拐( abduct的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（肢体等）外展 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
imprisoned
|
|
| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
sewer
|
|
| n.排水沟，下水道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
killer
|
|
| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
sane
|
|
| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
growled
|
|
| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
coterie
|
|
| n.(有共同兴趣的)小团体，小圈子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
blackmail
|
|
| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
psychic
|
|
| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
witchcraft
|
|
| n.魔法，巫术 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |