the man who knew too much-第29部分
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uieter voice：
〃Look here； sir。 I like you； if you don't mind my saying so。 I think you are really on the side of the people and I'm sure you're a brave man。 A lot braver than you know； perhaps。 We daren't touch what you propose with a barge pole； and so far from wanting you in the old party； we'd rather you ran your own risk by yourself。 But because I like you and respect your pluck； I'll do you a good turn before we part。 I don't want you to waste time barking up the wrong tree。 You talk about how the new squire got the money to buy； and the ruin of the old squire； and all the rest of it。 Well； I'll give you a hint about that； a hint about something precious few people know。〃
〃I am very grateful；〃 said Fisher； gravely。 〃What is it？〃
〃It's in two words；〃 said the other。 〃The new squire was quite poor when he bought。 The old squire was quite rich when he sold。〃
Horne Fisher looked at him thoughtfully as he turned away abruptly and busied himself with the papers on his desk。 Then Fisher uttered a short phrase of thanks and farewell； and went out into the street； still very thoughtful。
His reflection seemed to end in resolution； and； falling into a more rapid stride； he passed out of the little town along a road leading toward the gate of the great park； the country seat of Sir Francis Verner。 A glitter of sunlight made the early winter more like a late autumn； and the dark woods were touched here and there with red and golden leaves； like the last rays of a lost sunset。 From a higher part of the road he had seen the long； classical facade of the great house with its many windows； almost immediately beneath him； but when the road ran down under the wall of the estate； topped with towering trees behind； he realized that it was half a mile round to the lodge gates； After walking for a few minutes along the lane； however； he came to a place where the wall had cracked and was in process of repair。 As it was； there was a great gap in the gray masonry that looked at first as black as a cavern and only showed at a second glance the twilight of the twinkling trees。 There was something fascinating about that unexpected gate； like the opening of a fairy tale。
Horne Fisher had in him something of the aristocrat； which is very near to the anarchist。 It was characteristic of him that he turned into this dark and irregular entry as casually as into his own front door； merely thinking that it would be a short cut to the house。 He made his way through the dim wood for some distance and with some difficulty； until there began to shine through the trees a level light； in lines of silver； which he did not at first understand。 The next moment he had come out into the daylight at the top of a steep bank； at the bottom of which a path ran round the rim of a large ornamental lake。 The sheet of water which he had seen shimmering through the trees was of considerable extent； but was walled in on every side with woods which were not only dark； but decidedly dismal。 At one end of the path was a classical statue of some nameless nymph； and at the other end it was flanked by two classical urns； but the marble was weather…stained and streaked with green and gray。 A hundred other signs； smaller but more significant； told him that he had come on some outlying corner of the grounds neglected and seldom visited。 In the middle of the lake was what appeared to be an island； and on the island what appeared to be meant for a classical temple； not open like a temple of the winds； but with a blank wall between its Doric pillars。 We may say it only seemed like an island； because a second glance revealed a low causeway of flat stones running up to it from the shore and turning it into a peninsula。 And certainly it only seemed like a temple； for nobody knew better than Horne Fisher that no god had ever dwelt in that shrine。
〃That's what makes all this classical landscape gardening so desolate；〃 he said to himself。 〃More desolate than Stonehenge or the Pyramids。 We don't believe in Egyptian mythology； but the Egyptians did； and I suppose even the Druids believed in Druidism。 But the eighteenth…century gentleman who built these temples didn't believe in Venus or Mercury any more than we do； that's why the reflection of those pale pillars in the lake is truly only the shadow of a shade。 They were men of the age of Reason； they； who filled their gardens with these stone nymphs； had less hope than any men in all history of really meeting a nymph in the forest。〃
His monologue stopped aruptly with a sharp noise like a thundercrack that rolled in dreary echoes round the dismal mere。 He knew at once what it wassomebody had fired off a gun。 But as to the meaning of it he was momentarily staggered； and strange thoughts thronged into his mind。 The next moment he laughed； for he saw lying a little way along the path below him the dead bird that the shot had brought down。
At the same moment； however； he saw something else； which interested him more。 A ring of dense trees ran round the back of the island temple； framing the facade of it in dark foliage； and he could have sworn he saw a stir as of something moving among the leaves。 The next moment his suspicion was confirmed； for a rather ragged figure came from under the shadow of the temple and began to move along the causeway that led to the bank。 Even at that distance the figure was conspicuous by its great height and Fisher could see that the man carried a gun under his arm。 There came back into his memory at once the name Long Adam； the poacher。
With a rapid sense of strategy he sometimes showed； Fisher sprang from the bank and raced round the lake to the head of the little pier of stones。 If once a man reached the mainland he could easily vanish into the woods。 But when Fisher began to advance along the stones toward the island； the man was cornered in a blind alley and could only back toward the temple。 Putting his broad shoulders against it； he stood as if at bay； he was a comparatively young man； with fine lines in his lean face and figure and a mop of ragged red hair。 The look in his eyes might well have been disquieting to anyone left alone with him on an island in the middle of a lake。
〃Good morning；〃 said Horne Fisher； pleasantly。 〃I thought at first you were a murderer。 But it seems unlikely； somehow； that the partridge rushed between us and died for love of me； like the heroines in the romances； so I suppose you are a poacher。〃
〃I suppose you would call me a poacher；〃 answered the man； and his voice was something of a surprise coming from such a scarecrow； it had that hard fastidiousness to be found in those who have made a fight for their own refinement among rough surroundings。 〃I consider I have a perfect right to shoot game in this place。 But I am well aware that people of your sort take me for a thief； and I suppose you will try to land me in jail。〃
〃There are preliminary difficulties；〃 replied Fisher。 〃To begin with； the mistake is flattering； but I am not a gamekeeper。 Still less am I three gamekeepers； who would be； I imagine； about your fighting weight。 But I confess I have another reason for not wanting to jail you。〃
〃And what is that？〃 asked the other。
〃Only that I quite agree with you；〃 answered Fisher。 〃I don't exactly say you have a right to poach； but I never could see that it was as wrong as being a thief。 It seems to me against the whole normal notion of property that a man should own something because it flies across his garden。 He might as well own the wind； or think he could write his name on a morning cloud。 Besides； if we want poor people to respect property we must give them some property to respect。 You ought to have land of your own； and I'm going to give you some if I can。〃
〃Going to give me some land！〃 repeated Long Adam。
〃I apologize for addressing you as if you were a public meeting；〃 said Fisher； 〃but I am an entirely new kind of public man who says the same thing in public and in private。 I've said this to a hundred huge meetings throughout the country； and I say it to you on this queer little island in this dismal pond。 I would cut up a big estate like this into small estates for everybody； even for poachers。 I would do in England as they did in Irelandbuy the big men out； if possible； get them out； anyhow。 A man like you ought to have a little place of his own。 I don't say you could keep pheasants； but you might keep chickens。〃
The man stiffened suddenly and he seemed at once to blanch and flame at the promise as if it were a threat。
〃Chickens！〃 he repeated； with a passion of contempt。
〃Why do you object？〃 asked the placid candidate。 〃Because keeping hens is rather a mild amusement for a poacher？ What about poaching eggs？〃
〃Because I am not a poacher；〃 cried Adam； in a rending voice that rang round the hollow shrines and urns like the echoes of his gun。 〃Because the partridge lying dead over there is my partridge。 Because the land you are standing on is my land。 Because my own land was only taken from me by a crime； and a worse crime than poaching。 This has been a single estate for hundreds and hundreds of years； and if you or any meddlesome mountebank comes here and talks of cutting it up like a cake； if I ever hear a word more of yo
