“What boy was that?” I said, in a forced voice, when I could command myself.
“What boy?—eh?—what boy?” His eyes were wandering up and down the wall again. “Him, I say, as they burried quick—young Trender o’ the mill.”
“How do you know he was buried alive? How could he have been if he was murdered?”
“How do I know? He were murdered, I say. I’m George White, the sexton—and what I knows, I knows.”
“And the doctor murdered him?”
“Don’t I say so?”
He had hardly spoken, when he put his hand to his head, moved a step back and stood staring at me with horror-stricken, injected eyes.
“My God!” he muttered. “He whispered there into the pit that if I said to another what I said to him I were as good as a dead man.”
The panic increased in him. I could see the tortured soul moving, as it were, behind the flesh of his face. When the nerve of endurance snapped he staggered and fell forward in a fit.
Helpless to minister to a convulsion that must find its treatment in the delirium4 ward3 of a hospital, I ran to the police station, which was but a short distance away, and gave information of the seizure5 I had witnessed. A stretcher was sent for the poor, racked wretch6; he was carried away spluttering and writhing7, and so for the time being my chance of questioning him further was ended.
Now, plainly and solemnly: Had I been face to face with an awful fragment of the truth, or had I been but the chance hearer of certain delirious8 ravings on the part of a drink-sodden wretch—ravings as baseless as the unsubstantial horror at which he had flung his cap?
That the latter seemed the more probable was due to an obvious inconsistency on the part of the half-insane creature. If the boy had been murdered, how could he have been buried alive? Moreover, it was evident that the sexton was near a monomaniac on the subject of living interments. Moreover, secondly10, it was altogether improbable and not to be accounted for that the keen-witted doctor should intrust a secret so perilous11 to such a confederate. And what object had he to gain by the destruction of Modred, beyond the satisfying of a little private malice12 perhaps? An object quite incompatible13 with the fearful danger of the deed.
On the other hand, I could not but recall darkly that the sexton, on the morning when, apparently14 sane9 and sensible, he had conducted me to my brother’s grave, had thrown out certain vague hints and implications, which, hardly noticed by me at the time, assumed a lurider aspect in the light of his more definite charge; that, by Zyp’s statement to me after my illness, it would seem that Dr. Crackenthorpe had shown some eagerness and made voluntary offer of his services, in the matter of hushing up the whole question of Modred’s death; that it was not impossible that he also had discovered the boy’s knowledge of the secret of the hiding-place and had jumped at a ready opportunity for silencing forever an unwelcome confederate.
Stung to sudden anxious fervor15 by this last thought, I broke into a hurried walk, striving by vigorous motion to coax16 into consistent order of progression the dread17 hypothesis that so tore and worried my mind. Suddenly I found that, striding on preoccupied18, I was entering that part of the meadowland wherein lay the pool of uncanny memories. It shone there before me, like a silver rent in the grass, the shadow of a solitary19 willow20 smudged upon its surface, and against the trunk of the tree that stood on the further side of the water a long, dusky figure was leaning motionless. It was that of the man who was most in my thoughts; and, looking at him, even at that distance, something repellant in his aspect seemed to connect him fittingly with the stormy twilight21 around him that was imaged in my soul.
Straight I walked down to the water’s edge and hailed him, and, though he made no response, I saw consciousness of my presence stir in him.
“I want a word with you!” I called. “Shall I shout it across the river?”
“Proclaim all from the housetops, where I am concerned,” he answered in a loud voice. “Who is it wants me, and what has he to say?”
“You know me, I suppose?”
“I have not that pleasure, I believe.”
“Never mind. I have just come from talk with a confederate of yours—the sexton of St. John’s.”
“I know the man certainly. Is he in need of my services?”
“He would say ‘God forbid’ to that, I fancy. He’s had enough of you, maybe.”
“Oh, in what way?”
“In the way of silencing awkward witnesses.”
“Pray be a trifle less obscure.”
“I have this moment left him. He was seized with a fit of some sort. He’d rather have the devil himself to wait upon him than you, I expect.”
“Why so?”
“I had some talk with him before he went off his head. Do you wish to know what he charged you with?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Murder!”
Dr. Crackenthorpe looked at me across the water a long minute; then, never taking his eyes off my face, lifted up the skirts of his coat and began to shamble and jerk out the most ludicrous parody23 of a dance I have ever seen. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped and was doubled up in a suffocating24 cackle of laughter.
Presently recovering himself, he walked off down the bank to a point where the stream narrowed, and motioned me to come opposite him.
“It’s not from fear of you and your sexton,” he explained, still gasping25 out the dry dust of his humor. “Your exquisite26 pleasantry has weakened my vocal27 chords—that’s all.”
I treated him to a long stare of most sovereign contempt. For all his assumed enjoyment29, I fancied he was pretty observant of my mood and that he was calculating the nature of the charge I had fired at him.
“And whom did I murder?” he said, making a great show of mopping his face with his handkerchief.
“Say it was my brother Modred.”
“I’m glad, for your sake, to hear you qualify it. You should be, that there is no witness to this gross slander30. I presume you to be, then, one of that pleasant family of Trender, who have a local reputation none of the sweetest.”
He came down close to the water’s edge—we were but a little distance apart there—and shook a long finger at me.
“My friend, my friend,” he said, sternly, “your excuse must be the hot-headedness of youth. For the sake of your father, who once enjoyed my patronage31, I will forbear answering a fool according to his folly32. For his sake I will be gentle and convincing, where it is my plain duty, I am afraid, to chastise33. This man you speak of is a heavy drinker, and is now, by your own showing, on the verge34 of delirium tremens. Do you take the gross imaginings of such a person for gospel?”
“Dr. Crackenthorpe,” I said, quietly, “your threats fall on stony35 ground. I admit the man is hardly responsible for his statements at the present moment; only, as it happens, I have met and spoken with him before.”
I thought I could see in the gathering36 darkness his lips suck inward as if with a twitch37 of pain.
“And did he charge me then with murdering your brother?”
He threw back his head with a fresh cackle of laughter.
“Suspicions!” he cried. “Is that all? It’s natural to have them, perhaps. I had mine of you once, you know.”
“You lie there, of course. By your own confession39, you lie.”
“And now,” he went on, ignoring my interruption, “they are diverted to another.”
“Will you answer me a question or two?”
“If they are put with a proper sense of decorum I will give them my consideration.”
“Do you know where my father keeps the treasure, the bulk of which you have robbed him of?”
“Most offensively worded. But I will humor you. I never had need”—he shot out an evil smile—“of obtaining my share of the good things by other than legitimate40 means.”
“Do you know?”
“No, I don’t, upon the honor of a gentleman.”
“Did my brother that’s dead know?”
“Really, you tempt28 me to romance to satisfy your craving41 for information. I was not in your brother’s confidence.”
“Was there the least doubt that my brother was dead when he was buried?”
“Ah! I see. You have been hunting chimeras42 in George White’s company. It is the man’s werewolf, my good friend. You may take my professional certificate that no such thing happened.”
“Have you anything further to ask?” he said, with mocking politeness. “Any other insane witness to cite on behalf of this base and baseless prosecution44?”
“None at present.”
I turned and walked a step or two, intending to leave him without another word, but, on a thought, strode back to the waterside.
“Listen you!” I cried. “For the time you are quit of me. But bear in mind that I never rest or waver in my purpose till I have found who it was that killed my brother.”
With that I went from him.
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收听单词发音
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1
arteries
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| n.动脉( artery的名词复数 )；干线，要道 | |
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2
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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3
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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4
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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5
seizure
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| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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6
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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7
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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8
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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9
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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10
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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11
perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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12
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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13
incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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14
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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15
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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16
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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17
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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18
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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19
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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20
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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21
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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22
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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23
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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24
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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25
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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26
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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27
vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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28
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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29
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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30
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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31
patronage
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| n.赞助，支援，援助；光顾，捧场 | |
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32
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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33
chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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34
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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35
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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36
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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37
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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38
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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39
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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40
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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41
craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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42
chimeras
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| n.（由几种动物的各部分构成的）假想的怪兽( chimera的名词复数 )；不可能实现的想法；幻想；妄想 | |
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43
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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44
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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