(Extract from the diary of Sir Eustace Pedler)I am inclined to abandon my Reminiscences. Instead, I shall write ashort article entitled “Secretaries I have had.” As regards secretaries, Iseem to have fallen under a blight1. At one minute I have no secretaries, atanother I have too many. At the present minute I am journeying toRhodesia with a pack of women. Race goes off with the two best-looking,of course, and leaves me with the dud. That is what always happens to me—and, after all, this is my private car, not Race’s.
Also Anne Beddingfeld is accompanying me to Rhodesia on the pretextof being my temporary secretary. But all this afternoon she has been outon the observation platform with Race exclaiming at the beauty of the HexRiver Pass. It is true that I told her her principal duty would be to hold myhand. But she isn’t even doing that. Perhaps she is afraid of Miss Petti-grew. I don’t blame her if so. There is nothing attractive about Miss Petti-grew—she is a repellent female with large feet, more like a man than awoman.
There is something very mysterious about Anne Beddingfeld. Shejumped onboard the train at the last minute, puffing2 like a steam engine,for all the world as though she’s been running a race—and yet Pagett toldme that he’d seen her off to Durban last night! Either Pagett has beendrinking again, or else the girl must have an astral body.
And she never explains. Nobody ever explains. Yes, “Secretaries I havehad.” No. 1, a murderer fleeing from justice. No. 2, a secret drinker who car-ries on disreputable intrigues3 in Italy. No. 3, a beautiful girl who possesses theuseful faculty4 of being in two places at once. No. 4, Miss Pettigrew, who, I haveno doubt, is really a particularly dangerous crook5 in disguise! Probably one ofPagett’s Italian friends that he has palmed off on me. I shouldn’t wonder if theworld found some day that it had been grossly deceived by Pagett. On thewhole, I think Rayburn was the best of the bunch. He never worried me or gotin my way. Guy Pagett has had the impertinence to have the stationery6 trunkput in here. None of us can move without falling over it.
I went out on the observation platform just now, expecting my appearanceto be greeted with hails of delight. Both the women were listening spellboundto one of Race’s traveller’s tales. I shall label this car—not “Sir Eustace Pedlerand Party,” but “Colonel Race and Harem.”
Then Mrs. Blair must needs begin taking silly photographs. Every time wewent round a particularly appalling7 curve, as we climbed higher and higher,she snapped at the engine.
“You see the point,” she cried delightedly. “It must be some curve if you canphotograph the front part of the train from the back, and with the mountainbackground it will look awfully8 dangerous.”
I pointed9 out to her that no one could possibly tell it had been taken from theback of the train. She looked at me pityingly.
“I shall write underneath10 it. ‘Taken from the train. Engine going round acurve.’ ”
“You could write that under any snapshot of a train,” I said. Women neverthink of these simple things.
“I’m glad we’ve come up here in daylight,” cried Anne Beddingfeld. “Ishouldn’t have seen this if I’d gone last night to Durban, should I?”
“No,” said Colonel Race, smiling. “You’d have woken up tomorrow morningto find yourself in the Karoo, a hot, dusty desert of stones and rocks.”
“I’m glad I changed my mind,” said Anne, sighing contentedly11, and lookinground.
It was rather a wonderful sight. The great mountains all around, throughwhich we turned and twisted and laboured ever steadily12 upwards13.
“Is this the best train in the day to Rhodesia?” asked Anne Beddingfeld.
“In the day?” laughed Race. “Why, my dear Miss Anne, there are only threetrains a week. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Do you realize that youdon’t arrive at the Falls until Saturday next?”
“How well we shall know each other by that time!” said Mrs. Blair mali-ciously. “How long are you going to stay at the Falls, Sir Eustace?”
“That depends,” I said cautiously.
“On what?”
“On how things go at Johannesburg. My original idea was to stay a couple ofdays at the Falls—which I’ve never seen, though this is my third visit to Africa—and then go on to Jo’burg and study the conditions of things on the Rand. Athome, you know, I pose as being an authority on South African politics. Butfrom all I hear, Jo’burg will be a particularly unpleasant place to visit inabout a week’s time. I don’t want to study conditions in the midst of a ragingrevolution.”
Race smiled in a rather superior manner.
“I think your fears are exaggerated, Sir Eustace. There will be no greatdanger in Jo’burg.”
The women immediately looked at him in the “What a brave hero you are”
manner. It annoyed me intensely. I am every bit as brave as Race—but I lackthe figure. These long, lean, brown men have it all their own way.
“I suppose you’ll be there,” I said coldly.
“Very possibly. We might travel together.”
“I’m not sure that I shan’t stay on at the Falls a bit,” I answered noncom-mittally. Why is Race so anxious that I should go to Jo’burg? He’s got his eyeon Anne, I believe. “What are your plans, Miss Anne?”
“That depends,” she replied demurely14, copying me.
“I thought you were my secretary,” I objected.
“Oh, but I’ve been cut out. You’ve been holding Miss Pettigrew’s hand allthe afternoon.”
“Whatever I’ve been doing, I can swear I’ve not been doing that,” I assuredher.
Thursday night.
We have just left Kimberley. Race was made to tell the story of the dia-mond robbery all over again. Why are women so excited by anything todo with diamonds?
At last Anne Beddingfeld has shed her veil of mystery. It seems thatshe’s a newspaper correspondent. She sent an immense cable from De Aarthis morning. To judge by the jabbering15 that went on nearly all night inMrs. Blair’s cabin she must have been reading aloud all her special articlesfor years to come.
It seems that all along she’s been on the track of “The Man in the BrownSuit.” Apparently16 she didn’t spot him on the Kilmorden—in fact, she hardlyhad the chance, but she’s now very busy cabling home: “How I journeyed outwith the Murderer,” and inventing highly fictitious17 stories of “What he said tome,” etc. I know how these things are done. I do them myself, in my Reminis-cences when Pagett will let me. And of course one of Nasby’s efficient staff willbrighten up the details still more, so that when it appears in the Daily BudgetRayburn won’t recognize himself.
The girl’s clever, though. All on her own, apparently, she’s ferreted out theidentity of the woman who was killed in my house. She was a Russian dancercalled Nadina. I asked Anne Beddingfeld if she was sure of this. She repliedthat it was merely a deduction18—quite in the Sherlock Holmes manner. How-ever, I gather that she had cabled it home to Nasby as a proved fact. Womenhave these intuitions—I’ve no doubt that Anne Beddingfeld is perfectly19 rightin her guess—but to call it a deduction is absurd.
How she ever got on the staff of the Daily Budget is more than I can imagine.
But she is the kind of young woman who does these things. Impossible to with-stand her. She is full of coaxing20 ways that mask an invincible21 determination.
Look how she has got into my private car!
I am beginning to have an inkling why. Race said something about the po-lice suspecting that Rayburn would make for Rhodesia. He might just have gotoff by Monday’s train. They telegraphed all along the line, I presume, and noone of his description was found, but that says little. He’s an astute22 youngman and he knows Africa. He’s probably exquisitely23 disguised as an old Kafirwoman—and the simple police continue to look for a handsome young manwith a scar, dressed in the height of European fashion. I never did quite swal-low that scar.
Anyway, Anne Beddingfeld is on his track. She wants the glory of discover-ing him for herself and the Daily Budget. Young women are very cold-bloodednowadays. I hinted to her that it was an unwomanly action. She laughed atme. She assured me that did she run him to earth her fortune was made. Racedoesn’t like it, either, I can see. Perhaps Rayburn is on this train. If so, we mayall be murdered in our beds. I said so to Mrs. Blair—but she seemed quite towelcome the idea, and remarked that if I were murdered it would be really aterrific scoop24 for Anne! A scoop for Anne, indeed!
Tomorrow we shall be going through Bechuanaland. The dust will be atro-cious. Also at every station little Kafir children come and sell you quaintwooden animals that they carve themselves. Also mealie bowls and baskets. Iam rather afraid that Mrs. Blair may run amok. There is a primitive25 charmabout these toys that I feel will appeal to her.
Friday evening.
As I feared. Mrs. Blair and Anne have bought forty-nine wooden animals!
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1
blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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2
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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3
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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4
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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5
crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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6
stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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7
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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8
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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9
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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10
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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12
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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13
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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14
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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15
jabbering
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| v.急切而含混不清地说( jabber的现在分词 )；急促兴奋地说话；结结巴巴 | |
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16
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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17
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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18
deduction
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| n.减除，扣除，减除额；推论，推理，演绎 | |
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19
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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20
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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21
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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22
astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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24
scoop
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| n.铲子，舀取，独家新闻；v.汲取，舀取，抢先登出 | |
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25
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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