Dolly never came to work the next morning, but there arrived a little letter from her to Mr. Ripley, giving notice, that was all, with no address or clew to her whereabouts, and an intimation that it was understood she sacrificed her position—pitiful heaven, for what?
My employer tossed the note to me indifferently, asking me to see about the engagement of a fresh hand, if necessary. He little guessed what those few simple words meant to two of his staff, or foresaw the tragedy to which they were the prelude1.
When the dinner hour came I followed Duke out and put the scrap2 of paper into his hand without a word. He was not unprepared for it, for he already knew, of course, that his worst apprehensions3 were realized by the non-appearance of the girl at her usual place in the office.
He read it in silence, and in silence handed it back to me. His face in twenty-four hours seemed to have grown to be the face of an old man. All its once half-sad, half-humorous thoughtfulness was set into a single hard expression of some dark resolve.
“Well,” he said, suddenly, stopping in his walk and facing me, for I still kept pace with him.
“What do you intend doing, Duke?”
“I have one mission in life, Mr. Trender. Good-afternoon to you.”
I fell back and watched him go from me. Maimed as I was myself, how could I in any way help him to cure his crueler hurt?
But now began a curious somber4 struggle of cross purposes. To find out where Jason had sunk his burrow5 and hidden the spoils of his ugly false sport—there we worked in harness. It was only when the quarry6 should be run down that we must necessarily disagree as to the terms of its disposition7.
For myself: A new despairing trouble had been woven into my life by the hand that had already wrought8 me such evil. Its very touch had, however, made wreck9 of an impression that had been in a certain sense an embarrassment10, and my movements became in consequence less trammeled. Let me explain more definitely, if indeed I can do so and not appear heartless.
Dolly, innocent, bewitching and desirable, had so confused my moral ideas as to imbue11 them with a certain sweet sophistry12 of love that half-deceived me into a belief in its fundamental soundness. That was done with. Dolly dethroned, earthly, enamored of a brazen13 idol14 could be no rival to Zyp. My heart might yearn15 to her with pity and a deep remorse16 that it was I who had been the weak, responsible minister of her perversion17, but the old feeling was dead, never to be revived. I longed to find her; to rescue her from the black gulf18 into which I feared she had leaped; to face the villain19 who had bruised20 her heart and wrench21 atonement from him by the throat, as it were. Not less it was my duty to warn him; stand between him, worthless as he was, and the deadly pursuit alert for his destruction.
For Duke: I must judge him as he revealed himself to me, and baffle, if possible, the terrible spirit of what I dared not name to myself. Think only that at one wicked blow he was deprived of that whole structure of gentle romance that had saved his moral life from starvation!
Therefore it was that during the after hours of work I became for long a restless, flitting ghost haunted by a ghost. By street and rail and river, aimless apparently22, but with one object through all, we went wandering through the dark mazes23 of the night and of the city, always hoping to light upon that we sought and always baffled. Theaters, restaurants, music halls, night shows and exhibitions of every description—any place that was calculated to attract in the least a nature responsive to the foppery of glitter or an appeal to the senses—we visited and explored, without result. Gambling24 dens—such as we could obtain the entree25 to—were a persistent26 lodestone to our restlessness; and here, especially, was I often conscious of that shadow of a shade—that dark ghost of my own phantom27 footsteps—standing28 silent at my elbow and watching—watching for him who never came.
Whithersoever we went the spur of the moment’s qualm goaded29 us. Any little experience, any chance allusion30, was sufficient to suggest a possibility in the matter of the tendency of a lost and degenerate31 soul. Now we foregathered on the skirt of some fulsome32 and braying33 street preacher’s band; now suffered in a music hall under the skittish34 vapidity35 of a “lion comique”; now, perhaps, humbled36 our hot and weary pride in the luminous37 twilight38 of some old walled-in church, where evening service brought a few worshipers together.
I say “we,” yet in all this we acted independently. Only, whether in company or apart, the spirit of one common motive39 linked us together, and that so that I, at least, never felt alone.
So the weeks drew into months and Dolly herself was a phantom to my memory. By day the mechanism40 of our lives moved in the accustomed grooves41; by night we were wandering birds of passage flitting dismally42 over waste places. More than once on a Sunday had I taken train to Epping, driven by the thought that some half-forgotten sentiment might by chance move other than me to the scene of old pleasant experiences. But she never came. Her “seasick weary bark” was nearing the rocks, and the breakers of eternity43 were already sounding in her ears.
Why postpone44 the inevitable45 or delay longer over description of that pointless pursuit that was to end only in catastrophe46 and death?
Christmas had come and gone with me—a mockery of good will and cheer—and a bitter January set in. That month the very demon47 of the east wind flew uncontrolled, and his steely sting was of a length and shrewdness to pierce thickest cloth and coverlet, frame and lung and heart itself.
One evening I had swallowed my supper and was preparing for my nightly prowl. Duke had remained at the office overtime48, and my tramp was like to be unhaunted of its familiar. I had actually blown out the lamp, when his rapid footstep—I knew it well—came up the stairs, and in a moment the door was thrown open with a crash and I heard him breathing in the room.
“He’s gone!” he ejaculated in a quick, panting voice.
“No; I’m here, Duke!”
“My God! Renny—do you hear? Come—come at once. No—light the lamp; I’ve something to show you.”
I struck a match, with shaking hand, and put it to the wick. As the dull flame sputtered49 and rose I turned and looked at my friend. The expression of his face I shall never forget till I die. It was bloodless—spectral—inhuman; the face of one to whom a great dread50 had been realized—a last hope denied.
He held out to me a little soiled and crumpled51 sheet of paper. I took it, with a spasm52 of the heart and breath that seemed to suffocate53 me. My eyes turned from and were fascinated by it at once.
“You had better read,” he said. “It’s the last chapter of your own pretty romance. Make haste—I want to get to business.”
It was from her, as I had foreseen—a few sad words to the old good friend who had so loved and protected her:
“I must let you know before I go to die. I couldn’t meet you that morning—what a time ago it seems! He wouldn’t let me, though I cried and begged him to. I don’t know now what made me do it all; how he upset my faith in Renny and turned my love to himself in a moment. I think he has a dreadful influence that made me follow him and obey him. It doesn’t matter now. I went to him, that’s enough; and he’s broken my heart. Please ask Renny to forgive me. Perhaps if he had had a little more patience with me I might have acted different—but I can’t be certain even of that. I’m going to kill myself, Duke, dear, and before I do it I just want to say this: I know now you loved poor Dolly all the time. How I know it I don’t understand, but somehow it’s quite clear. Oh, what have I thrown away, when I might have been so happy! You were always good to me, and I thank you with my last breath. Don’t hurt him, Duke; I don’t think he understands the difference to me. But he always promised to be a faithful lover—and yesterday I found that he’s married already. That’s why I’m going to do it.”
The paper dropped from my hand. Duke picked it up with an evil laugh and thrust it into his breast pocket.
“Married!” I muttered.
“Oh!” he cried; “it’s all one for that! That’s a family matter. The question here goes beyond—into the heart of this—this death warrant.”
“Duke—are you going to murder him?”
“I’m going to find her. Let that do for the present—and you’ve got to help me.”
“Where are we to look? Did the letter give an address?”
“No. She kept her secret to the last. It was a noble one, I swear. There’s a postmark, though, and that’s my clew. Hurry, will you?”
I seized my hat and stick.
“Duke—for the love of heaven, why must it be too late even now?”
“Because I know it is. Doesn’t that satisfy you? I loved her—do you understand it now for the first time? The fiend tread on your heels. Aren’t you ever coming?”
I hurried after him into the street. A clap of wind struck and staggered us as if it had been water. Beating through the night, its icy fury clutched at us, stinging and buffeting55 our faces, until it seemed as though we were fighting through an endless thicket56 of brambles. Struggling and panting onward—silent with the silence of the lost—we made our way by slow degrees to the low ground about Chelsea, and presently came out into a freer air and the black vision of the river sliding before us from night into night.
“Duke,” I whispered, awfully—“is this what you fear?”
“Follow!” he cried. “I fear nothing! It’s past that!”
By lowering factory and grimy wall; by squalid streets peeled of uncleanliness in the teeth of the bitter blast; by low-browed taverns57, that gushed58 red on us a moment and were gone, he sped with crooked59 paces, and I followed.
Then he stopped so suddenly that I almost stumbled against him, and we were standing at the mouth of a shadowy court, and overhead a hiccoughing gas jet made a gibbering terror of his white face.
“Where are we?” I said, and he answered:
“Where we naturally take up the clew—outside a police station.”
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1
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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2
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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3
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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4
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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5
burrow
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| vt.挖掘(洞穴)；钻进；vi.挖洞；翻寻；n.地洞 | |
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6
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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7
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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8
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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9
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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10
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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11
imbue
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| v.灌输(某种强烈的情感或意见)，感染 | |
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12
sophistry
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| n.诡辩 | |
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13
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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14
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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15
yearn
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| v.想念；怀念；渴望 | |
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16
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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17
perversion
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| n.曲解；堕落；反常 | |
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18
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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19
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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20
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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21
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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22
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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23
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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24
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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25
entree
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| n.入场权，进入权 | |
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26
persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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28
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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29
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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30
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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31
degenerate
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| v.退步，堕落；adj.退步的，堕落的；n.堕落者 | |
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32
fulsome
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| adj.可恶的，虚伪的，过分恭维的 | |
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33
braying
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| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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34
skittish
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| adj.易激动的，轻佻的 | |
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35
vapidity
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| n.乏味；无滋味；无生气；无趣 | |
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36
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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37
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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38
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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39
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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40
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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41
grooves
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| n.沟( groove的名词复数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏v.沟( groove的第三人称单数 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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42
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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43
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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44
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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45
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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46
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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47
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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48
overtime
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| adj.超时的，加班的；adv.加班地 | |
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49
sputtered
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| v.唾沫飞溅( sputter的过去式和过去分词 )；发劈啪声；喷出；飞溅出 | |
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50
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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51
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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52
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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53
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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54
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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55
buffeting
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| 振动 | |
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56
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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57
taverns
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| n.小旅馆，客栈，酒馆( tavern的名词复数 ) | |
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58
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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59
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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