the man who knew too much-第11部分

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〃They　are　out　of　reach；　anyhow；〃　observed　Colonel　Morris；　in　a　tone　which　suggested　that　it　was　well　for　them。　〃I've　known　a　good　many　magicians　myself　in　Indiamango　plant　and　all。　But　the　Indian　ones　are　all　frauds；　I'll　swear。　In　fact；　I　　had　a　good　deal　of　fun　showing　them　up。　More　fun　　than　I　have　over　this　dreary　job；　anyhow。　But　here　　comes　Mr。　Symon；　who　will　show　you　over　the　old　　cellar　downstairs。〃

Mr。　Symon；　the　official　guardian　and　guide；　was　a　young　man；　prematurely　gray；　with　a　grave　mouth　which　contrasted　curiously　with　a　very　small；　dark　mustache　with　waxed　points；　that　seemed　somehow；　separate　from　it；　as　if　a　black　fly　had　settled　on　his　face。　He　spoke　with　the　accent　of　Oxford　and　the　permanent　official；　but　in　as　dead　a　fashion　as　the　most　indifferent　hired　guide。　They　descended　a　dark　stone　staircase；　at　the　floor　of　which　Symon　pressed　a　button　and　a　door　opened　on　a　dark　room；　or；　rather；　a　room　which　had　an　instant　before　been　dark。　For　almost　as　the　heavy　iron　door　swung　open　an　almost　blinding　blaze　of　electric　lights　filled　the　whole　interior。　The　fitful　enthusiasm　of　Stinks　at　once　caught　fire；　and　he　eagerly　asked　if　the　lights　and　the　door　worked　together。

〃Yes；　it's　all　one　system；〃　replied　Symon。　〃It　was　all　fitted　up　for　the　day　His　Royal　Highness　deposited　the　thing　here。　You　see；　it's　locked　up　behind　a　glass　case　exactly　as　he　left　it。〃

A　glance　showed　that　the　arrangements　for　guarding　the　treasure　were　indeed　as　strong　as　they　were　simple。　A　single　pane　of　glass　cut　off　one　corner　of　the　room；　in　an　iron　framework　let　into　the　rock　walls　and　the　wooden　roof　above；　there　was　now　no　possibility　of　reopening　the　case　without　elaborate　labor；　except　by　breaking　the　glass；　which　would　probably　arouse　the　night　watchman　who　was　always　within　a　few　feet　of　it；　even　if　he　had　fallen　asleep。　A　close　examination　would　have　showed　many　more　ingenious　safeguards；　but　the　eye　of　the　Rev。　Thomas　Twyford；　at　least；　was　already　riveted　on　what　interested　him　much　morethe　dull　silver　disk　which　shone　in　the　white　light　against　a　plain　background　of　black　velvet。

〃St。　Paul's　Penny；　said　to　commemorate　the　visit　of　St。　Paul　to　Britain；　was　probably　preserved　in　this　chapel　until　the　eighth　century；〃　Symon　was　saying　in　his　clear　but　colorless　voice。　〃In　the　ninth　century　it　is　supposed　to　have　been　carried　away　by　the　barbarians；　and　it　reappears；　after　the　conversion　of　the　northern　Goths；　in　the　possession　of　the　royal　family　of　Gothland。　His　Royal　Highness；　the　Duke　of　Gothland；　retained　it　always　in　his　own　private　custody；　and　when　he　decided　to　exhibit　it　to　the　public；　placed　it　here　with　his　own　hand。　It　was　immediately　sealed　up　in　such　a　manner〃

Unluckily　at　this　point　Summers　Minor；　whose　attention　had　somewhat　strayed　from　the　religious　wars　of　the　ninth　century；　caught　sight　of　a　short　length　of　wire　appearing　in　a　broken　patch　in　the　wall。　He　precipitated　himself　at　it；　calling　out；　〃I　say；　say；　does　that　connect？〃

It　was　evident　that　it　did　connect；　for　no　sooner　had　the　boy　given　it　a　twitch　than　the　whole　room　went　black；　as　if　they　had　all　been　struck　blind；　and　an　instant　afterward　they　heard　the　dull　crash　of　the　closing　door。

〃Well；　you've　done　it　now；〃　said　Symon；　in　his　tranquil　fashion。　Then　after　a　pause　he　added；　〃I　suppose　they'll　miss　us　sooner　or　later；　and　no　doubt　they　can　get　it　open；　but　it　may　take　some　little　time。〃

There　was　a　silence；　and　then　the　unconquerable　Stinks　observed：

〃Rotten　that　I　had　to　leave　my　electric　torch。〃

〃I　think；〃　said　his　uncle；　with　restraint；　〃that　we　are　sufficiently　convinced　of　your　interest　in　electricity。〃

Then　after　a　pause　he　remarked；　more　amiably：　〃I　suppose　if　I　regretted　any　of　my　own　impedimenta；　it　would　be　the　pipe。　Though；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　it's　not　much　fun　smoking　in　the　dark。　Everything　seems　different　in　the　dark。〃

〃Everything　is　different　in　the　dark；〃　said　a　third　voice；　that　of　the　man　who　called　himself　a　magician。　It　was　a　very　musical　voice；　and　rather　in　contrast　with　his　sinister　and　swarthy　visage；　which　was　now　invisible。　〃Perhaps　you　don't　know　how　terrible　a　truth　that　is。　All　you　see　are　pictures　made　by　the　sun；　faces　and　furniture　and　flowers　and　trees。　The　things　themselves　may　be　quite　strange　to　you。　Something　else　may　be　standing　now　where　you　saw　a　table　or　a　chair。　The　face　of　your　friend　may　be　quite　different　in　the　dark。〃

A　short；　indescribable　noise　broke　the　stillness。　Twyford　started　for　a　second；　and　then　said；　sharply：

〃Really；　I　don't　think　it's　a　suitable　occasion　for　trying　to　frighten　a　child。〃

〃Who's　a　child？〃　cried　the　indignant　Summers；　with　a　voice　that　had　a　crow；　but　also　something　of　a　crack　in　it。　〃And　who's　a　funk；　either？　Not　me。〃

〃I　will　be　silent；　then；〃　said　the　other　voice　out　of　the　darkness。　〃But　silence　also　makes　and　unmakes。〃

The　required　silence　remained　unbroken　for　a　long　time　until　at　last　the　clergyman　said　to　Symon　in　a　low　voice：

〃I　suppose　it's　all　right　about　air？〃

〃Oh；　yes；〃　replied　the　other　aloud；　〃there's　a　fireplace　and　a　chimney　in　the　office　just　by　the　door。〃

A　bound　and　the　noise　of　a　falling　chair　told　them　that　the　irrepressible　rising　generation　had　once　more　thrown　itself　across　the　room。　They　heard　the　ejaculation：　〃A　chimney！　Why；　I'll　be〃　and　the　rest　was　lost　in　muffled；　but　exultant；　cries。

The　uncle　called　repeatedly　and　vainly；　groped　his　way　at　last　to　the　opening；　and；　peering　up　it；　caught　a　glimpse　of　a　disk　of　daylight；　which　seemed　to　suggest　that　the　fugitive　had　vanished　in　safety。　Making　his　way　back　to　the　group　by　the　glass　case；　he　fell　over　the　fallen　chair　and　took　a　moment　to　collect　himself　again。　He　had　opened　his　mouth　to　speak　to　Symon；　when　he　stopped；　and　suddenly　found　himself　blinking　in　the　full　shock　of　the　white　light；　and　looking　over　the　other　man's　shoulder；　he　saw　that　the　door　was　standing　open。

〃So　they've　got　at　us　at　last；〃　he　observed　to　Symon。

The　man　in　the　black　robe　was　leaning　against　the　wall　some　yards　away；　with　a　smile　carved　on　his　face。

〃Here　comes　Colonel　Morris；〃　went　on　Twyford；　still　speaking　to　Symon。　〃One　of　us　will　have　to　tell　him　how　the　light　went　out。　Will　you？〃

But　Symon　still　said　nothing。　He　was　standing　as　still　as　a　statue；　and　looking　steadily　at　the　black　velvet　behind　the　glass　screen。　He　was　looking　at　the　black　velvet　because　there　was　nothing　else　to　look　at。　St。　Paul's　Penny　was　gone。

Colonel　Morris　entered　the　room　with　two　new　visitors；　presumably　two　new　sightseers　delayed　　by　the　accident。　The　foremost　was　a　tall；　fair；　rather　languid…looking　man　with　a　bald　　brow　and　a　high…bridged　nose；　his　companion　was　a　younger　man　with　light；　curly　hair　and　frank；　and　even　innocent；　eyes。　Symon　scarcely　seemed　to　hear　the　newcomers；　it　seemed　almost　as　if　he　had　not　realized　that　the　return　of　the　light　revealed　his　brooding　attitude。　Then　he　started　in　a　guilty　fashion；　and　when　he　saw　the　elder　of　the　two　strangers；　his　pale　face　seemed　to　turn　a　shade　paler。

〃Why　it's　Horne　Fisher！〃　and　then　after　a　pause　he　said　in　a　low　voice；　〃I'm　in　the　devil　of　a　hole；　Fisher。〃

〃There　does　seem　a　bit　of　a　mystery　to　be　cleared　up；〃　observed　the　gentleman　so　addressed。

〃It　will　never　be　cleared　up；〃　said　the　pale　Symon。　〃If　anybody　could　clear　it　up；　you　could。　But　nobody　could。〃

〃I　rather　think　I　could；〃　said　another　voice　from　outside　the　group；　and　they　turned　in　surprise　to　realize　that　the　man　in　the　black　robe　had　spoken　again。

〃You！〃　said　the　colonel；　sharply。　〃And　how　do　you　propose　to　play　the　detective？〃

〃I　do　not　propose　to　play　the　detective；〃　answered　the　other；　in　a　clear　voice　like　a　bell。　〃I　propose　to　play　the　magician。　One　of　the　magicians　you　show　up　in　India；　Colonel。〃

No　one　spoke　for　a　moment；　and　then　Horne　Fisher　surprised　everybody　by　saying；　〃Well；　let's　go　upstairs；　and　this　gentleman　can　have　a　try。〃

He　stopped　Symon；　who　had　an　automatic　finger　on　the　button；　saying：　〃No；　leave　all　the　lights　on。　It's　a　sort　of　safeguard。〃

〃The　thing　can't　be　taken　away　now；〃　said　Symon；　bitterly。

〃It　can　be　put　back；〃　replied　Fisher。

Twyford　had　already　run　upstairs　for　news　of　his　vanishing　nephew；　and　he　received　news　of　him　in　a　way　that　at　once　puzzled　and　reassured　him。　On　the　floor　above　lay　one　of　those　large　paper　darts　which　boys　throw　at　each　other　when　the　schoolmaster　is　out　of　the　room。　It　had　evidently　been　thrown　in　at　the　window；　and　on　being　unfolded　displayed　a　scrawl　of　bad　handwriting　which　ran：　〃Dear　Uncle；　I　am　all　right。　Meet　you　at　the　hotel　later　on；〃　and　then　the　signature。

Insensibly　comforted　by　this；　the　clergyman　found　his　thoughts　reverting　voluntarily　to　his　favorite　relic；　which　came　a　good　second　in　his　sympathies　to　his　favorite　nephew；　and　before　he　knew　where　he　was　he　found　himself　encircled　by　the　group　discussing　its　loss；　and　more　or　less　carried　away　on　the　current　of　their　excitement。　But　an　undercurrent　of　query　continued　to　run　in　his　mind；　as　to　what　had　really　happened　to　the　boy；　and　what　was　the　boy's　exact　definition　of　being　all　right。

Meanwhile　Horne　Fisher　had　considerably　puzzled　everybody　with　his　new　tone　and　attitude。　He