the man who knew too much-第21部分
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃The answer is very simple；〃 replied Fisher。 〃The crime was not committed in the morning。 The crime was not committed on the island。〃
March stared at the shining water without replying； but Fisher resumed like one who had been asked a question：
〃Every intelligent murder involves taking advantage of some one uncommon feature in a common situation。 The feature here was the fancy of old Hook for being the first man up every morning； his fixed routine as an angler； and his annoyance at being disturbed。 The murderer strangled him in his own house after dinner on the night before； carried his corpse； with all his fishing tackle； across the stream in the dead of night； tied him to the tree； and left him there under the stars。 It was a dead man who sat fishing there all day。 Then the murderer went back to the house； or； rather； to the garage； and went off in his motor car。 The murderer drove his own motor car。〃
Fisher glanced at his friend's face and went on。 〃You look horrified； and the thing is horrible。 But other things are horrible； too。 If some obscure man had been hag…ridden by a blackmailer and had his family life ruined； you wouldn't think the murder of his persecutor the most inexcusable of murders。 Is it any worse when a whole great nation is set free as well as a family？ By this warning to Sweden we shall probably prevent war and not precipitate it； and save many thousand lives rather more valuable than the life of that viper。 Oh； I'm not talking sophistry or seriously justifying the thing； but the slavery that held him and his country was a thousand times less justifiable。 If I'd really been sharp I should have guessed it from his smooth； deadly smiling at dinner that night。 Do you remember that silly talk about how old Isaac could always play his fish？ In a pretty hellish sense he was a fisher of men。〃
Harold March took the oars and began to row again。
〃I remember；〃 he said； 〃and about how a big fish might break the line and get away。〃
VI。 THE HOLE IN THE WALL
Two men； the one an architect and the other an archaeologist； met on the steps of the great house at Prior's Park； and their host； Lord Bulmer； in his breezy way； thought it natural to introduce them。 It must be confessed that he was hazy as well as breezy； and had no very clear connection in his mind； beyond the sense that an architect and an archaeologist begin with the same series of letters。 The world must remain in a reverent doubt as to whether he would； on the same principles； have presented a diplomatist to a dipsomaniac or a ratiocinator to a rat catcher。 He was a big； fair； bull…necked young man； abounding in outward gestures； unconsciously flapping his gloves and flourishing his stick。
〃You two ought to have something to talk about；〃 he said； cheerfully。 〃Old buildings and all that sort of thing； this is rather an old building； by the way； though I say it who shouldn't。 I must ask you to excuse me a moment； I've got to go and see about the cards for this Christmas romp my sister's arranging。 We hope to see you all there； of course。 Juliet wants it to be a fancy…dress affairabbots and crusaders and all that。 My ancestors； I suppose； after all。〃
〃I trust the abbot was not an ancestor；〃 said the archaeological gentleman； with a smile。
〃Only a sort of great…uncle； I imagine；〃 answered the other； laughing； then his rather rambling eye rolled round the ordered landscape in front of the house； an artificial sheet of water ornamented with an antiquated nymph in the center and surrounded by a park of tall trees now gray and black and frosty； for it was in the depth of a severe winter。
〃It's getting jolly cold；〃 his lordship continued。 〃My sister hopes we shall have some skating as well as dancing。〃
〃If the crusaders come in full armor；〃 said the other； 〃you must be careful not to drown your ancestors。〃
〃Oh； there's no fear of that；〃 answered Bulmer； 〃this precious lake of ours is not two feet deep anywhere。〃 And with one of his flourishing gestures he stuck his stick into the water to demonstrate its shallowness。 They could see the short end bent in the water； so that he seemed for a moment to lean his large weight on a breaking staff。
〃The worst you can expect is to see an abbot sit down rather suddenly；〃 he added； turning away。 〃Well； au revoir； I'll let you know about it later。〃
The archaeologist and the architect were left on the great stone steps smiling at each other； but whatever their common interests； they presented a considerable personal contrast； and the fanciful might even have found some contradiction in each considered individually。 The former； a Mr。 James Haddow； came from a drowsy den in the Inns of Court； full of leather and parchment； for the law was his profession and history only his hobby； he was indeed； among other things； the solicitor and agent of the Prior's Park estate。 But he himself was far from drowsy and seemed remarkably wide awake； with shrewd and prominent blue eyes； and red hair brushed as neatly as his very neat costume。 The latter； whose name was Leonard Crane； came straight from a crude and almost cockney office of builders and house agents in the neighboring suburb； sunning itself at the end of a new row of jerry…built houses with plans in very bright colors and notices in very large letters。 But a serious observer； at a second glance； might have seen in his eyes something of that shining sleep that is called vision； and his yellow hair； while not affectedly long； was unaffectedly untidy。 It was a manifest if melancholy truth that the architect was an artist。 But the artistic temperament was far from explaining him； there was something else about him that was not definable； but which some even felt to be dangerous。 Despite his dreaminess； he would sometimes surprise his friends with arts and even sports apart from his ordinary life； like memories of some previous existence。 On this occasion； nevertheless； he hastened to disclaim any authority on the other man's hobby。
〃I mustn't appear on false pretences；〃 he said； with a smile。 〃I hardly even know what an archaeologist is； except that a rather rusty remnant of Greek suggests that he is a man who studies old things。〃
〃Yes；〃 replied Haddow； grimly。 〃An archaeologist is a man who studies old things and finds they are new。〃
Crane looked at him steadily for a moment and then smiled again。
〃Dare one suggest；〃 he said； 〃that some of the things we have been talking about are among the old things that turn out not to be old？〃
His companion also was silent for a moment； and the smile on his rugged face was fainter as he replied； quietly：
〃The wall round the park is really old。 The one gate in it is Gothic； and I cannot find any trace of destruction or restoration。 But the house and the estate generallywell the romantic ideas read into these things are often rather recent romances； things almost like fashionable novels。 For instance； the very name of this place； Prior's Park； makes everybody think of it as a moonlit mediaeval abbey； I dare say the spiritualists by this time have discovered the ghost of a monk there。 But； according to the only authoritative study of the matter I can find； the place was simply called Prior's as any rural place is called Podger's。 It was the house of a Mr。 Prior； a farmhouse； probably； that stood here at some time or other and was a local landmark。 Oh； there are a great many examples of the same thing； here and everywhere else。 This suburb of ours used to be a village； and because some of the people slurred the name and pronounced it Holliwell； many a minor poet indulged in fancies about a Holy Well； with spells and fairies and all the rest of it； filling the suburban drawing…rooms with the Celtic twilight。 Whereas anyone acquainted with the facts knows that 'Hollinwall' simply means 'the hole in the wall；' and probably referred to some quite trivial accident。 That's what I mean when I say that we don't so much find old things as we find new ones。〃
Crane seemed to have grown somewhat inattentive to the little lecture on antiquities and novelties； and the cause of his restlessness was soon apparent； and indeed approaching。 Lord Bulmer's sister； Juliet Bray； was coming slowly across the lawn； accompanied by one gentleman and followed by two others。 The young architect was in the illogical condition of mind in which he preferred three to one。
The man walking with the lady was no other than the eminent Prince Borodino； who was at least as famous as a distinguished diplomatist ought to be； in the interests of what is called secret diplomacy。 He had been paying a round of visits at various English country houses； and exactly what he was doing for diplomacy at Prior's Park was as much a secret as any diplomatist could desire。 The obvious thing to say of his appearance was that he would have been extremely handsome if he had not been entirely bald。 But； indeed； that would itself be a rather bald way of putting it。 Fantastic as it sounds； it would fit the case better to say that people would have been surprised to see hair growing on him； as surprised as if they had found hair growing on the bust of a Roman emperor。 His tall figure was buttoned up in a tight…waisted fashion that rather accentuated
