章节正文
in speed. Ben Tatum knew. He knew that the only
rock of safety left to him was the code. There is no
doubt that, had he been alone, the matter would have been
settled quickly with Sam Durkee in the usual way;
but he had something at his side that kept still the
trigger-finger of both. It seemed likely that he was
no coward.
So, you may perceive that woman, on occasions, may
postpone instead of precipitating conflict between man
and man. But not willingly or consciously. She is
oblivious of codes.
Five miles farther, we came upon the future great
Western city of Chandler. The horses of pursuers and
pursued were starved and weary. There was one hotel
that offered danger to man and entertainment to beast;
so the four of us met again in the dining room at the
ringing of a bell so resonant and large that it had cracked
the welkin long ago. The dining room was not as large
as the one at Guthrie.
Just as we were eating apple pie -- how Ben Davises
and tragedy impinge upon each other! -- I noticed Sam
looking with keen intentness at our quarry where they
were seated at a table across the room. The girl still
wore the brown dress with lace collar and cuffs, and the
veil drawn down to her nose. The man bent over his
plate, with his close cropped head held low.
"There's a code," I heard Sam say, either to me or to
himself, "that won't let you shoot a man in the company
of a woman; but, by thunder, there ain't one to keep you
from killing a woman in the company of a man!"
And, quicker than my mind could follow his argument,
he whipped a Colt's automatic from under his left arm
and pumped six bullets into the body that the brown
dress covered -- the brown dress with the lace collar and
cuffs and the accordion-plaited skirt.
The young person in the dark sack suit, from whose
head and from whose life a woman's glory had been
clipped, laid her head on her arms stretched upon the
table; while people came running to raise Ben Tatum
from the floor in his femininemasquerade that had given
Sam the opportunity to set aside, technically, the obliga-
tions of the code.
SUITE HOMES AND THEIR ROMANCE
FEW young couples in the Big-City-of-Bluff began
their married existence with greater promise of happiness
than did Mr. and Mrs. Claude Turpin. They felt no
especial animosity toward each other; they were comfort-
ably established in a handsome apartment house that
had a name and accommodations like those of a sleeping-
car; they were living as expensively as the couple on
the next floor above who had twice their income;
and their marriage had occurred on a wager, a ferry-
boat and first acquaintance, thus securing a
sensational newspaper notice with their names attached
to pictures of the Queen of Roumania and M. Santos-
Dumont.
Turpin's income was $200 per month. On pay day,
after calculating the amounts due for rent, instalments
on furniture and piano, gas, and bills owed to the florist,
confectioner, milliner, tailor, wine merchant and cab
company, the Turpins would find that they still had $200
left to spend. How to do this is one of the secrets of
metropolitan life.
The domestic life of the Turpins was a beautiful picture
to see. But you couldn't gaze upon it as you could
at an oleograph of "Don't Wake Grandma," or "Brook-
lyn by Moonlight."
You had to blink when looked at it; and you heard
a fizzing sound just like the machine with a "scope" at
the end of it. Yes; there wasn't much repose about the
picture of the Turpins' domestic life. It was something
like "Spearing Salmon in the Columbia River," or "Jap-
anese Artillery in Action."
Every day was just like another; as the days are in
New York. In the morning Turpin would take bromo-
seltzer, his pocket change from under the clock, his hat,
no breakfast and his departure for the office. At noon
Mrs. Turpin would get out of bed and humour, put on
a kimono, airs, and the water to boil for coffee.
Turpin lunched downtown. He came home at 6
to dress for dinner. They always dined out. They
strayed from the chop-house to chop-sueydom, from
terrace to table d'h锟絫e, from rathskeller to roadhouse,
from caf?to casino, from Maria's to the Martha Wash-
ington. Such is domestic life in the great city. Your
vine is the mistletoe; your fig tree bears dates. Your
household gods are Mercury and John Howard Payne.
For the wedding march you now hear only "Come with
the Gypsy Bride." You rarely dine at the same place
twice in succession. You tire of the food; and, besides,
you want to give them time for the question of that souve-
nir silver sugar bowl to blow over.
The Turpins were therefore happy. They made many
warm and delightful friends, some of whom they remem-
bered the next day. Their home life was an ideal one,
according to the rules and regulations of the Book of Bluff.
There came a time when it dawned upon Turpin
that his wife was getting away with too much money.
If you belong to the near-swell class in the Big City,
and your income is $200 per month, and you find at the
end of the month, after looking over the bills for current
expenses, that you, yourself, have spent $150, you very
naturally wonder what has become of the other $50.
So you suspect your wife. And perhaps you give her
a hint that something needs explanation.
"I say, Vivien," said Turpin, one afternoon when they
were enjoying in rapt silence the peace and quiet of their
cozy apartment, "you've been creating a hiatus big
enough for a dog to crawl through in this month's hon-
orarium. You haven't been paying your dressmaker
anything on account, have you?"
There was a moment's silence. No sounds could be
heard except the breathing of the fox terrier, and the
subdued, monotonous sizzling of Vivien's fulvous locks
against the insensate curling irons. Claude Turpin,
sitting upon a pillow that he had thoughtfully placed
upon the convolutions of the apartment sofa, narrowly
watched the riante, lovely face of his wife.
"Claudie, dear," said she, touching her finger to her
ruby tongue and testing the unresponsive curling irons,
"you do me an injustice. Mme. Toinette has not seen a
cent of mine since the day you paid your tailor ten dollars
on account."
Turpin's suspicions were allayed for the time. But
one day soon there came an anonymous letter to him
that read:
"Watch your wife. She is blowing in your money
secretly. I was a sufferer just as you are. The place
is No. 345 Blank Street. A word to the wise, etc.
"A MAN WHO KNOWS"
Turpin took this letter to the captain of police of
the precinct that he lived in.
"My precinct is as clean as a hound's tooth," said the
captain. "The lid's shut down as close there as it is
over the eye of a Williamsburg girl when she's kissed at
a party. But if you think there's anything queer at the
address, I'll go there with ye."
On the next afternoon at 3, Turpin and the captain
crept softly up the stairs of No. 345 Blank Street. A
dozen plain-clothes men, dressed in full police uniforms,
so as to allay suspicion, waited in the hall below.
At the top of the stairs was a door, which was found
to be locked. The captain took a key from his pocket
and unlocked it. The two men entered.
They found themselves in a large room, occupied
by twenty or twenty-five elegantly clothed ladies. Racing
charts hung against the walls, a ticker clicked in one
corner; with a telephone receiver to his ear a man was
calling out the various positions of the horses in a very
exciting race. The occupants of the room looked up at
the intruders; but, as if reassured by the sight of the
captain's uniform, they reverted their attention to the
man at the telephone.
"You see," said the captain to Turpin, "the value of
an anonymous letter! No high-minded and self-respect-
ing gentleman should consider one worthy of notice.
Is your wife among this assembly, Mr. Turpin?"
"She is not," said Turpin.
"And if she was," continued the captain, "would she
be within the reach of the tongue of slander? These
ladies constitute a Browning Society. They meet to
discuss the meaning of the great poet. The telephone
is connected with Boston, whence the parent society
transmits frequently its interpretations of the poems. Be
ashamed of yer suspicions, Mr. Turpin."
"Go soak your shield," said Turpin. "Vivien knows
how to take care of herself in a pool-room. She's not
dropping anything on the ponies. There must be some-
thing queer going on here."
"Nothing but Browning," said the captain. "Hear
that?"
"Thanatopsis by a nose," drawled the man at the
telephone.
"That's not Browning; that's Longfellow," said
Turpin, who sometimes read books.
"Back to the pasture!" exclaimed the captain. "long-
fellow made the pacing-to-wagon record of 7.53 'way
back in 1868."
"I believe there's something queer about this joint,"
repeated Turpin.
"I don't see it," said the captain.
"I know it looks like a pool-room, all right," persisted
Turpin, "but that's all a blind. Vivien has been dropping
a lot of coin somewhere. I believe there's some under-
handed work going on here."
A number of racing sheets were tacked close together,
covering a large space on one of the walls. Turpin,
suspicious, tore several of them down. A door, pre-
viously hidden, was revealed. Turpin placed an ear to
the crack and listened intently. He heard the soft hum
of many voices, low and guarded laughter, and a sharp,
metallic clicking and scraping as if from a multitude of
tiny but busy objects.
"My God! It is as I feared!" whispered Turpin to
himself. "Summon your men at once!" he called to the
captain. "She is in there, I know."
At the blowing of the captain's whistle the uniformed
plain-clothes men rushed up the stairs into the pool-
room. When they saw the betting paraphernalia distrib-
uted around they halted, surprised and puzzled to know
why they had been summoned.
rock of safety left to him was the code. There is no
doubt that, had he been alone, the matter would have been
settled quickly with Sam Durkee in the usual way;
but he had something at his side that kept still the
trigger-finger of both. It seemed likely that he was
no coward.
So, you may perceive that woman, on occasions, may
postpone instead of precipitating conflict between man
and man. But not willingly or consciously. She is
oblivious of codes.
Five miles farther, we came upon the future great
Western city of Chandler. The horses of pursuers and
pursued were starved and weary. There was one hotel
that offered danger to man and entertainment to beast;
so the four of us met again in the dining room at the
ringing of a bell so resonant and large that it had cracked
the welkin long ago. The dining room was not as large
as the one at Guthrie.
Just as we were eating apple pie -- how Ben Davises
and tragedy impinge upon each other! -- I noticed Sam
looking with keen intentness at our quarry where they
were seated at a table across the room. The girl still
wore the brown dress with lace collar and cuffs, and the
veil drawn down to her nose. The man bent over his
plate, with his close cropped head held low.
"There's a code," I heard Sam say, either to me or to
himself, "that won't let you shoot a man in the company
of a woman; but, by thunder, there ain't one to keep you
from killing a woman in the company of a man!"
And, quicker than my mind could follow his argument,
he whipped a Colt's automatic from under his left arm
and pumped six bullets into the body that the brown
dress covered -- the brown dress with the lace collar and
cuffs and the accordion-plaited skirt.
The young person in the dark sack suit, from whose
head and from whose life a woman's glory had been
clipped, laid her head on her arms stretched upon the
table; while people came running to raise Ben Tatum
from the floor in his femininemasquerade that had given
Sam the opportunity to set aside, technically, the obliga-
tions of the code.
SUITE HOMES AND THEIR ROMANCE
FEW young couples in the Big-City-of-Bluff began
their married existence with greater promise of happiness
than did Mr. and Mrs. Claude Turpin. They felt no
especial animosity toward each other; they were comfort-
ably established in a handsome apartment house that
had a name and accommodations like those of a sleeping-
car; they were living as expensively as the couple on
the next floor above who had twice their income;
and their marriage had occurred on a wager, a ferry-
boat and first acquaintance, thus securing a
sensational newspaper notice with their names attached
to pictures of the Queen of Roumania and M. Santos-
Dumont.
Turpin's income was $200 per month. On pay day,
after calculating the amounts due for rent, instalments
on furniture and piano, gas, and bills owed to the florist,
confectioner, milliner, tailor, wine merchant and cab
company, the Turpins would find that they still had $200
left to spend. How to do this is one of the secrets of
metropolitan life.
The domestic life of the Turpins was a beautiful picture
to see. But you couldn't gaze upon it as you could
at an oleograph of "Don't Wake Grandma," or "Brook-
lyn by Moonlight."
You had to blink when looked at it; and you heard
a fizzing sound just like the machine with a "scope" at
the end of it. Yes; there wasn't much repose about the
picture of the Turpins' domestic life. It was something
like "Spearing Salmon in the Columbia River," or "Jap-
anese Artillery in Action."
Every day was just like another; as the days are in
New York. In the morning Turpin would take bromo-
seltzer, his pocket change from under the clock, his hat,
no breakfast and his departure for the office. At noon
Mrs. Turpin would get out of bed and humour, put on
a kimono, airs, and the water to boil for coffee.
Turpin lunched downtown. He came home at 6
to dress for dinner. They always dined out. They
strayed from the chop-house to chop-sueydom, from
terrace to table d'h锟絫e, from rathskeller to roadhouse,
from caf?to casino, from Maria's to the Martha Wash-
ington. Such is domestic life in the great city. Your
vine is the mistletoe; your fig tree bears dates. Your
household gods are Mercury and John Howard Payne.
For the wedding march you now hear only "Come with
the Gypsy Bride." You rarely dine at the same place
twice in succession. You tire of the food; and, besides,
you want to give them time for the question of that souve-
nir silver sugar bowl to blow over.
The Turpins were therefore happy. They made many
warm and delightful friends, some of whom they remem-
bered the next day. Their home life was an ideal one,
according to the rules and regulations of the Book of Bluff.
There came a time when it dawned upon Turpin
that his wife was getting away with too much money.
If you belong to the near-swell class in the Big City,
and your income is $200 per month, and you find at the
end of the month, after looking over the bills for current
expenses, that you, yourself, have spent $150, you very
naturally wonder what has become of the other $50.
So you suspect your wife. And perhaps you give her
a hint that something needs explanation.
"I say, Vivien," said Turpin, one afternoon when they
were enjoying in rapt silence the peace and quiet of their
cozy apartment, "you've been creating a hiatus big
enough for a dog to crawl through in this month's hon-
orarium. You haven't been paying your dressmaker
anything on account, have you?"
There was a moment's silence. No sounds could be
heard except the breathing of the fox terrier, and the
subdued, monotonous sizzling of Vivien's fulvous locks
against the insensate curling irons. Claude Turpin,
sitting upon a pillow that he had thoughtfully placed
upon the convolutions of the apartment sofa, narrowly
watched the riante, lovely face of his wife.
"Claudie, dear," said she, touching her finger to her
ruby tongue and testing the unresponsive curling irons,
"you do me an injustice. Mme. Toinette has not seen a
cent of mine since the day you paid your tailor ten dollars
on account."
Turpin's suspicions were allayed for the time. But
one day soon there came an anonymous letter to him
that read:
"Watch your wife. She is blowing in your money
secretly. I was a sufferer just as you are. The place
is No. 345 Blank Street. A word to the wise, etc.
"A MAN WHO KNOWS"
Turpin took this letter to the captain of police of
the precinct that he lived in.
"My precinct is as clean as a hound's tooth," said the
captain. "The lid's shut down as close there as it is
over the eye of a Williamsburg girl when she's kissed at
a party. But if you think there's anything queer at the
address, I'll go there with ye."
On the next afternoon at 3, Turpin and the captain
crept softly up the stairs of No. 345 Blank Street. A
dozen plain-clothes men, dressed in full police uniforms,
so as to allay suspicion, waited in the hall below.
At the top of the stairs was a door, which was found
to be locked. The captain took a key from his pocket
and unlocked it. The two men entered.
They found themselves in a large room, occupied
by twenty or twenty-five elegantly clothed ladies. Racing
charts hung against the walls, a ticker clicked in one
corner; with a telephone receiver to his ear a man was
calling out the various positions of the horses in a very
exciting race. The occupants of the room looked up at
the intruders; but, as if reassured by the sight of the
captain's uniform, they reverted their attention to the
man at the telephone.
"You see," said the captain to Turpin, "the value of
an anonymous letter! No high-minded and self-respect-
ing gentleman should consider one worthy of notice.
Is your wife among this assembly, Mr. Turpin?"
"She is not," said Turpin.
"And if she was," continued the captain, "would she
be within the reach of the tongue of slander? These
ladies constitute a Browning Society. They meet to
discuss the meaning of the great poet. The telephone
is connected with Boston, whence the parent society
transmits frequently its interpretations of the poems. Be
ashamed of yer suspicions, Mr. Turpin."
"Go soak your shield," said Turpin. "Vivien knows
how to take care of herself in a pool-room. She's not
dropping anything on the ponies. There must be some-
thing queer going on here."
"Nothing but Browning," said the captain. "Hear
that?"
"Thanatopsis by a nose," drawled the man at the
telephone.
"That's not Browning; that's Longfellow," said
Turpin, who sometimes read books.
"Back to the pasture!" exclaimed the captain. "long-
fellow made the pacing-to-wagon record of 7.53 'way
back in 1868."
"I believe there's something queer about this joint,"
repeated Turpin.
"I don't see it," said the captain.
"I know it looks like a pool-room, all right," persisted
Turpin, "but that's all a blind. Vivien has been dropping
a lot of coin somewhere. I believe there's some under-
handed work going on here."
A number of racing sheets were tacked close together,
covering a large space on one of the walls. Turpin,
suspicious, tore several of them down. A door, pre-
viously hidden, was revealed. Turpin placed an ear to
the crack and listened intently. He heard the soft hum
of many voices, low and guarded laughter, and a sharp,
metallic clicking and scraping as if from a multitude of
tiny but busy objects.
"My God! It is as I feared!" whispered Turpin to
himself. "Summon your men at once!" he called to the
captain. "She is in there, I know."
At the blowing of the captain's whistle the uniformed
plain-clothes men rushed up the stairs into the pool-
room. When they saw the betting paraphernalia distrib-
uted around they halted, surprised and puzzled to know
why they had been summoned.
- perceive [pə´si:v]
vt.察觉；看出；领悟 (初中英语单词) - conflict [´kɔnflikt, kən´flikt] n.&vi.战斗；抵触 (初中英语单词)
- entertainment [,entə´teinmənt] n.招(款)待；联欢会 (初中英语单词)
- tragedy [´trædʒidi] n.悲剧；惨案；灾难 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- thunder [´θʌndə] n.雷 vi.打雷 vt.吼出 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- existence [ig´zistəns] n.存在；生存；生活 (初中英语单词)
- apartment [ə´pɑ:tmənt] n.一套房间 (初中英语单词)
- acquaintance [ə´kweintəns] n.相识；熟人，相识的人 (初中英语单词)
- income [´inkʌm] n.收入，所得 (初中英语单词)
- tailor [´teilə] n.裁缝 vt.裁制(衣服) (初中英语单词)
- domestic [də´mestik] a.家庭的；本国的 (初中英语单词)
- columbia [kə´lʌmbiə] n.哥伦比亚 (初中英语单词)
- departure [di´pɑ:tʃə] n.离开，出发 (初中英语单词)
- humour [´hju:mə] n.幽默，诙谐 (初中英语单词)
- mercury [´mə:kjuri] n.汞；水银柱 (初中英语单词)
- wedding [´wediŋ] n.婚礼，结婚 (初中英语单词)
- rarely [´reəli] ad.难得；非凡地 (初中英语单词)
- succession [sək´seʃən] n.继任；继承(权) (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- delightful [di´laitful] a.讨人喜欢的 (初中英语单词)
- suspect [´sʌspekt, sə´spekt] v.怀疑；觉得 n.嫌疑犯 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- suspicion [sə´spiʃən] n.怀(猜)疑；嫌疑 (初中英语单词)
- worthy [´wə:ði] a.有价值的；值得的 (初中英语单词)
- assembly [ə´sembli] n.集会；装配；与会者 (初中英语单词)
- constitute [´kɔnstitju:t] vt.组成；构成；指定 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- laughter [´lɑ:ftə] n.笑，笑声 (初中英语单词)
- multitude [´mʌltitju:d] n.大群(批)；众多 (初中英语单词)
- whistle [´wisəl] v.吹哨 n.口哨；汽笛 (初中英语单词)
- quarry [´kwɔri] n.(采)石场；猎物 (高中英语单词)
- automatic [,ɔ:tə´mætik] a.自动的 n.自动装置 (高中英语单词)
- repose [ri´pəuz] v.&n.(使)休息；安息 (高中英语单词)
- salmon [´sæmən] n.鲑，大马哈鱼 (高中英语单词)
- artillery [ɑ:´tiləri] n.炮兵部队 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtfully [´θɔ:tfuli] ad.深思地；体贴地 (高中英语单词)
- injustice [in´dʒʌstis] n.不公正，不公平 (高中英语单词)
- receiver [ri´si:və] n.接收者；接待人 (高中英语单词)
- willingly [´wiliŋli] ad.情愿地，乐意地 (英语四级单词)
- feminine [´feminin] a.女性的 (英语四级单词)
- downtown [,daun´taun] ad.&a.在商业区 (英语四级单词)
- monotonous [mə´nɔtənəs] a.单(音)调的 (英语四级单词)
- touching [´tʌtʃiŋ] a.动人的 prep.提到 (英语四级单词)
- sufferer [´sʌfərə] n.受苦的人；患者 (英语四级单词)
- precinct [´pri:siŋkt] n.(教堂等的)围地 (英语四级单词)
- slander [´slɑ:ndə] vt.&n.诽谤(罪) (英语四级单词)
- whence [wens] ad.从何处；从那里 (英语四级单词)
- intently [in´tentli] ad.专心地 (英语四级单词)
- masquerade [,mæskə´reid] n.化装舞会 vi.冒充 (英语六级单词)
- animosity [æni´mɔsiti] n.仇恨；憎恨；敌意 (英语六级单词)
- anonymous [ə´nɔniməs] a.不具名的；匿名的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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