章节正文
the step, alternately plucking at the bell-handle and pounding on
the panels. The man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with
filth, he had the air of a hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it
was John.
The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother's
bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. 'What does it matter
now?' he thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the
steps.
John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt
and fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in
a long rasping breath, and his eyes glittered.
'Open that door,' he said, standing back.
'I am going to,' said Morris, and added mentally, 'He looks like
murder!'
The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them;
and suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as
a terrier shakes a rat. 'You mangy little cad,' he said, 'I'd
serve you right to smash your skull!' And shook him again, so
that his teeth rattled and his head smote upon the wall.
'Don't be violent, Johnny,' said Morris. 'It can't do any good
now.'
'Shut your mouth,' said John, 'your time's come to listen.'
He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and
taking off one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his
foot like one in agony. 'I'm lame for life,' he said. 'What is
there for dinner?'
'Nothing, Johnny,' said Morris.
'Nothing? What do you mean by that?' enquired the Great Vance.
'Don't set up your chat to me!'
'I mean simply nothing,' said his brother. 'I have nothing to
eat, and nothing to buy it with. I've only had a cup of tea and a
sandwich all this day myself.'
'Only a sandwich?' sneered Vance. 'I suppose YOU'RE going to
complain next. But you had better take care: I've had all I mean
to take; and I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to
dine well. Take your signets and sell them.'
'I can't today,' objected Morris; 'it's Sunday.'
'I tell you I'm going to dine!' cried the younger brother.
'But if it's not possible, Johnny?' pleaded the other.
'You nincompoop!' cried Vance. 'Ain't we householders? Don't they
know us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off
with you; and if you ain't back in half an hour, and if the
dinner ain't good, first I'll lick you till you don't want to
breathe, and then I'll go straight to the police and blow the
gaff. Do you understand that, Morris Finsbury? Because if you do,
you had better jump.'
The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with
famine. He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still
nursing his foot in the armchair.
'What would you like to drink, Johnny?' he enquired soothingly.
'Fizz,' said John. 'Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a
bottle of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and
don't shake the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas,
and draw down the blinds; it's cold and it's getting dark. And
then you can lay the cloth. And, I say--here, you! bring me down
some clothes.'
The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner
came; and the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets
of sole, mutton chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with
roast potatoes, cabinetpudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and
some early celery: a meal uncompromisingly British, but
supporting.
'Thank God!' said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by
joy into the unwonted formality of grace. 'Now I'm going to take
this chair with my back to the fire--there's been a strong frost
these two last nights, and I can't get it out of my bones; the
celery will be just the ticket--I'm going to sit here, and you
are going to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and play butler.'
'But, Johnny, I'm so hungry myself,' pleaded Morris.
'You can have what I leave,' said Vance. 'You're just beginning
to pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don't you
rouse the British lion!' There was something indescribably
menacing in the face and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered
these words, at which the soul of Morris withered. 'There!'
resumed the feaster, 'give us a glass of the fizz to start with.
Gravy soup! And I thought I didn't like gravy soup! Do you know
how I got here?' he asked, with another explosion of wrath.
'No, Johnny; how could I?' said the obsequious Morris.
'I walked on my ten toes!' cried John; 'tramped the whole way
from Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It's not
so easy as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked
mariner from Blyth; I don't know where Blyth is, do you? but I
thought it sounded natural. I begged from a little beast of a
schoolboy, and he forked out a bit of twine, and asked me to make
a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I did, but he said it wasn't,
he said it was a granny's knot, and I was a what-d'ye-call-'em,
and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from a naval
officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me a
tract; there's a nice account of the British navy!--and then from
a widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread
from her. Another party I fell in with said you could generally
always get bread; and the thing to do was to break a plateglass
window and get into gaol; seemed rather a brilliantscheme. Pass
the beef.'
'Why didn't you stay at Browndean?' Morris ventured to enquire.
'Skittles!' said John. 'On what? The Pink Un and a measly
religious paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you.
I got tick at a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so
would you, if you were leading such a beastly existence! And a
card stood me a lot of ale and stuff, and we got swipey, talking
about music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; and
then they got me on to sing "Around her splendid form I weaved
the magic circle," and then he said I couldn't be Vance, and I
stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of
course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels.
It settled my hash at the public,' said John, with a sigh. 'And
then the last thing was the carpenter--'
'Our landlord?' enquired Morris.
'That's the party,' said John. 'He came nosing about the place,
and then wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the
bedclothes. I told him to go to the devil; so would you too, when
there was no possible thing to say! And then he said I had pawned
them, and did I know it was felony? Then I made a pretty neat
stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and talked a whole lot of rot,
very politely, just so low he couldn't hear a word. "I don't hear
you," says he. "I know you don't, my buck, and I don't mean you
to," says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. "I'm hard of
hearing,' he roars. "I'd be in a pretty hot corner if you
weren't," says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything.
It was tip-top as long as it lasted. "Well," he said, "I'm deaf,
worse luck, but I bet the constable can hear you." And off he
started one way, and I the other. They got a spirit-lamp and the
Pink Un, and that old religious paper, and another periodical you
sent me. I think you must have been drunk--it had a name like one
of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to hold forth at, and it
was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry and the use of
the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could read out
of a lunaticasylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly,
what a paper!'
'Athenaeum, you mean,' said Morris.
'I don't care what you call it,' said John, 'so as I don't
require to take it in! There, I feel better. Now I'm going to sit
by the fire in the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the
celery, and the bottle of port--no, a champagne glass, it holds
more. And now you can pitch in; there's some of the fish left and
a chop, and some fizz. Ah,' sighed the refreshed pedestrian,
'Michael was right about that port; there's old and vatted for
you! Michael's a man I like; he's clever and reads books, and the
Athaeneum, and all that; but he's not dreary to meet, he don't
talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them
would throw a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I
ain't bored myself to put the question, because of course I knew
it from the first. You've made a hash of it, eh?'
'Michael made a hash of it,' said Morris, flushing dark.
'What have we got to do with that?' enquired John.
'He has lost the body, that's what we have to do with it,' cried
Morris. 'He has lost the body, and the death can't be
established.'
'Hold on,' said John. 'I thought you didn't want to?'
'O, we're far past that,' said his brother. 'It's not the tontine
now, it's the leather business, Johnny; it's the clothes upon our
back.'
'Stow the slow music,' said John, 'and tell your story from
beginning to end.' Morris did as he was bid.
'Well, now, what did I tell you?' cried the Great Vance, when the
other had done. 'But I know one thing: I'm not going to be
humbugged out of my property.'
'I should like to know what you mean to do,' said Morris.
'I'll tell you that,' responded John with extreme decision. 'I'm
going to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in
London; and whether you go to quod or not is a matter of
indifference to me.'
'Why, Johnny, we're in the same boat!' expostulated Morris.
'Are we?' cried his brother. 'I bet we're not! Have I committed
forgery? have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic
advertisements in the comic papers? have I smashed other people's
statues? I like your cheek, Morris Finsbury. No, I've let you run
my affairs too long; now they shall go to Michael. I like
Michael, anyway; and it's time I understood my situation.'
At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the
bell, and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the
hands of a commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of
Michael. Its contents ran as follows:
MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of
SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10
A.M. tomorrow. MICHAEL FINSBURY
So utter was Morris's subjection that he did not wait to be
asked, but handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at
it himself
'That's the way to write a letter,' cried John. 'Nobody but
Michael could have written that.'
And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority.
CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business
Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a
large apartment in Michael's office; the Great Vance, somewhat
restored from yesterday's exhaustion, but with one foot in a
slipper; Morris, not positively damaged, but a man ten years
older than he who had left Bournemouth eight days before, his
face ploughed full of anxious wrinkles, his dark hair liberally
grizzled at the temples.
Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in
the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an
ancient gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. 'By Jingo,
it's Uncle Joe!' cried John.
But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and
glittering eyes.
'I'll tell you what you did!' he cried. 'You absconded!'
'Good morning, Morris Finsbury,' returned Joseph, with no less
asperity; 'you are looking seriously ill.'
'No use making trouble now,' remarked Michael. 'Look the facts in
the face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in
the panels. The man had no hat, his clothes were hideous with
filth, he had the air of a hop-picker. Yet Morris knew him; it
was John.
The first impulse of flight was succeeded, in the elder brother's
bosom, by the empty quiescence of despair. 'What does it matter
now?' he thought, and drawing forth his latchkey ascended the
steps.
John turned about; his face was ghastly with weariness and dirt
and fury; and as he recognized the head of his family, he drew in
a long rasping breath, and his eyes glittered.
'Open that door,' he said, standing back.
'I am going to,' said Morris, and added mentally, 'He looks like
murder!'
The brothers passed into the hall, the door closed behind them;
and suddenly John seized Morris by the shoulders and shook him as
a terrier shakes a rat. 'You mangy little cad,' he said, 'I'd
serve you right to smash your skull!' And shook him again, so
that his teeth rattled and his head smote upon the wall.
'Don't be violent, Johnny,' said Morris. 'It can't do any good
now.'
'Shut your mouth,' said John, 'your time's come to listen.'
He strode into the dining-room, fell into the easy-chair, and
taking off one of his burst walking-shoes, nursed for a while his
foot like one in agony. 'I'm lame for life,' he said. 'What is
there for dinner?'
'Nothing, Johnny,' said Morris.
'Nothing? What do you mean by that?' enquired the Great Vance.
'Don't set up your chat to me!'
'I mean simply nothing,' said his brother. 'I have nothing to
eat, and nothing to buy it with. I've only had a cup of tea and a
sandwich all this day myself.'
'Only a sandwich?' sneered Vance. 'I suppose YOU'RE going to
complain next. But you had better take care: I've had all I mean
to take; and I can tell you what it is, I mean to dine and to
dine well. Take your signets and sell them.'
'I can't today,' objected Morris; 'it's Sunday.'
'I tell you I'm going to dine!' cried the younger brother.
'But if it's not possible, Johnny?' pleaded the other.
'You nincompoop!' cried Vance. 'Ain't we householders? Don't they
know us at that hotel where Uncle Parker used to come. Be off
with you; and if you ain't back in half an hour, and if the
dinner ain't good, first I'll lick you till you don't want to
breathe, and then I'll go straight to the police and blow the
gaff. Do you understand that, Morris Finsbury? Because if you do,
you had better jump.'
The idea smiled even upon the wretched Morris, who was sick with
famine. He sped upon his errand, and returned to find John still
nursing his foot in the armchair.
'What would you like to drink, Johnny?' he enquired soothingly.
'Fizz,' said John. 'Some of the poppy stuff from the end bin; a
bottle of the old port that Michael liked, to follow; and see and
don't shake the port. And look here, light the fire--and the gas,
and draw down the blinds; it's cold and it's getting dark. And
then you can lay the cloth. And, I say--here, you! bring me down
some clothes.'
The room looked comparatively habitable by the time the dinner
came; and the dinner itself was good: strong gravy soup, fillets
of sole, mutton chops and tomato sauce, roast beef done rare with
roast potatoes, cabinetpudding, a piece of Chester cheese, and
some early celery: a meal uncompromisingly British, but
supporting.
'Thank God!' said John, his nostrils sniffing wide, surprised by
joy into the unwonted formality of grace. 'Now I'm going to take
this chair with my back to the fire--there's been a strong frost
these two last nights, and I can't get it out of my bones; the
celery will be just the ticket--I'm going to sit here, and you
are going to stand there, Morris Finsbury, and play butler.'
'But, Johnny, I'm so hungry myself,' pleaded Morris.
'You can have what I leave,' said Vance. 'You're just beginning
to pay your score, my daisy; I owe you one-pound-ten; don't you
rouse the British lion!' There was something indescribably
menacing in the face and voice of the Great Vance as he uttered
these words, at which the soul of Morris withered. 'There!'
resumed the feaster, 'give us a glass of the fizz to start with.
Gravy soup! And I thought I didn't like gravy soup! Do you know
how I got here?' he asked, with another explosion of wrath.
'No, Johnny; how could I?' said the obsequious Morris.
'I walked on my ten toes!' cried John; 'tramped the whole way
from Browndean; and begged! I would like to see you beg. It's not
so easy as you might suppose. I played it on being a shipwrecked
mariner from Blyth; I don't know where Blyth is, do you? but I
thought it sounded natural. I begged from a little beast of a
schoolboy, and he forked out a bit of twine, and asked me to make
a clove hitch; I did, too, I know I did, but he said it wasn't,
he said it was a granny's knot, and I was a what-d'ye-call-'em,
and he would give me in charge. Then I begged from a naval
officer--he never bothered me with knots, but he only gave me a
tract; there's a nice account of the British navy!--and then from
a widow woman that sold lollipops, and I got a hunch of bread
from her. Another party I fell in with said you could generally
always get bread; and the thing to do was to break a plateglass
window and get into gaol; seemed rather a brilliantscheme. Pass
the beef.'
'Why didn't you stay at Browndean?' Morris ventured to enquire.
'Skittles!' said John. 'On what? The Pink Un and a measly
religious paper? I had to leave Browndean; I had to, I tell you.
I got tick at a public, and set up to be the Great Vance; so
would you, if you were leading such a beastly existence! And a
card stood me a lot of ale and stuff, and we got swipey, talking
about music-halls and the piles of tin I got for singing; and
then they got me on to sing "Around her splendid form I weaved
the magic circle," and then he said I couldn't be Vance, and I
stuck to it like grim death I was. It was rot of me to sing, of
course, but I thought I could brazen it out with a set of yokels.
It settled my hash at the public,' said John, with a sigh. 'And
then the last thing was the carpenter--'
'Our landlord?' enquired Morris.
'That's the party,' said John. 'He came nosing about the place,
and then wanted to know where the water-butt was, and the
bedclothes. I told him to go to the devil; so would you too, when
there was no possible thing to say! And then he said I had pawned
them, and did I know it was felony? Then I made a pretty neat
stroke. I remembered he was deaf, and talked a whole lot of rot,
very politely, just so low he couldn't hear a word. "I don't hear
you," says he. "I know you don't, my buck, and I don't mean you
to," says I, smiling away like a haberdasher. "I'm hard of
hearing,' he roars. "I'd be in a pretty hot corner if you
weren't," says I, making signs as if I was explaining everything.
It was tip-top as long as it lasted. "Well," he said, "I'm deaf,
worse luck, but I bet the constable can hear you." And off he
started one way, and I the other. They got a spirit-lamp and the
Pink Un, and that old religious paper, and another periodical you
sent me. I think you must have been drunk--it had a name like one
of those spots that Uncle Joseph used to hold forth at, and it
was all full of the most awful swipes about poetry and the use of
the globes. It was the kind of thing that nobody could read out
of a lunaticasylum. The Athaeneum, that was the name! Golly,
what a paper!'
'Athenaeum, you mean,' said Morris.
'I don't care what you call it,' said John, 'so as I don't
require to take it in! There, I feel better. Now I'm going to sit
by the fire in the easy-chair; pass me the cheese, and the
celery, and the bottle of port--no, a champagne glass, it holds
more. And now you can pitch in; there's some of the fish left and
a chop, and some fizz. Ah,' sighed the refreshed pedestrian,
'Michael was right about that port; there's old and vatted for
you! Michael's a man I like; he's clever and reads books, and the
Athaeneum, and all that; but he's not dreary to meet, he don't
talk Athaeneum like the other parties; why, the most of them
would throw a blight over a skittle alley! Talking of Michael, I
ain't bored myself to put the question, because of course I knew
it from the first. You've made a hash of it, eh?'
'Michael made a hash of it,' said Morris, flushing dark.
'What have we got to do with that?' enquired John.
'He has lost the body, that's what we have to do with it,' cried
Morris. 'He has lost the body, and the death can't be
established.'
'Hold on,' said John. 'I thought you didn't want to?'
'O, we're far past that,' said his brother. 'It's not the tontine
now, it's the leather business, Johnny; it's the clothes upon our
back.'
'Stow the slow music,' said John, 'and tell your story from
beginning to end.' Morris did as he was bid.
'Well, now, what did I tell you?' cried the Great Vance, when the
other had done. 'But I know one thing: I'm not going to be
humbugged out of my property.'
'I should like to know what you mean to do,' said Morris.
'I'll tell you that,' responded John with extreme decision. 'I'm
going to put my interests in the hands of the smartest lawyer in
London; and whether you go to quod or not is a matter of
indifference to me.'
'Why, Johnny, we're in the same boat!' expostulated Morris.
'Are we?' cried his brother. 'I bet we're not! Have I committed
forgery? have I lied about Uncle Joseph? have I put idiotic
advertisements in the comic papers? have I smashed other people's
statues? I like your cheek, Morris Finsbury. No, I've let you run
my affairs too long; now they shall go to Michael. I like
Michael, anyway; and it's time I understood my situation.'
At this moment the brethren were interrupted by a ring at the
bell, and Morris, going timorously to the door, received from the
hands of a commissionaire a letter addressed in the hand of
Michael. Its contents ran as follows:
MORRIS FINSBURY, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear of
SOMETHING TO HIS ADVANTAGE at my office, in Chancery Lane, at 10
A.M. tomorrow. MICHAEL FINSBURY
So utter was Morris's subjection that he did not wait to be
asked, but handed the note to John as soon as he had glanced at
it himself
'That's the way to write a letter,' cried John. 'Nobody but
Michael could have written that.'
And Morris did not even claim the credit of priority.
CHAPTER XVI. Final Adjustment of the Leather Business
Finsbury brothers were ushered, at ten the next morning, into a
large apartment in Michael's office; the Great Vance, somewhat
restored from yesterday's exhaustion, but with one foot in a
slipper; Morris, not positively damaged, but a man ten years
older than he who had left Bournemouth eight days before, his
face ploughed full of anxious wrinkles, his dark hair liberally
grizzled at the temples.
Three persons were seated at a table to receive them: Michael in
the midst, Gideon Forsyth on his right hand, on his left an
ancient gentleman with spectacles and silver hair. 'By Jingo,
it's Uncle Joe!' cried John.
But Morris approached his uncle with a pale countenance and
glittering eyes.
'I'll tell you what you did!' he cried. 'You absconded!'
'Good morning, Morris Finsbury,' returned Joseph, with no less
asperity; 'you are looking seriously ill.'
'No use making trouble now,' remarked Michael. 'Look the facts in
the face. Your uncle, as you see, was not so much as shaken in
- impulse [´impʌls]
n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词) - flight [flait] n.逃走；飞行；班机 (初中英语单词)
- despair [di´speə] vi.&n.绝望 (初中英语单词)
- breath [breθ] n.呼吸；气息 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- violent [´vaiələnt] a.强暴的；猛烈的 (初中英语单词)
- wretched [´retʃid] a.可怜的；倒霉的 (初中英语单词)
- errand [´erənd] n.差使，使命 (初中英语单词)
- comparatively [kəm´pærətivli] ad.比较地；比较上 (初中英语单词)
- cabinet [´kæbinit] n.橱，柜；内阁 (初中英语单词)
- cheese [tʃi:z] n.干酪，乳酪 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- brilliant [´briliənt] a.灿烂的；杰出的 (初中英语单词)
- scheme [ski:m] n.计划；阴谋，诡计 (初中英语单词)
- poetry [´pəuitri] n.诗；诗意 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- lawyer [´lɔ:jə] n.律师；法学家 (初中英语单词)
- contents [´kɔ:ntents] n.容纳物；要旨 (初中英语单词)
- advantage [əd´vɑ:ntidʒ] n.优势；利益 (初中英语单词)
- apartment [ə´pɑ:tmənt] n.一套房间 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- seriously [´siəriəsli] ad.严肃；严重，重大 (初中英语单词)
- shaken [´ʃeikən] shake的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- ghastly [´gɑ:stli] a.苍白的；可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- strode [strəud] stride的过去式 (高中英语单词)
- mutton [´mʌtn] n.羊肉 (高中英语单词)
- tomato [tə´mɑ:təu] n.西红柿，蕃茄 (高中英语单词)
- pudding [´pudiŋ] n.布丁 (高中英语单词)
- explosion [ik´spləuʒən] n.爆炸；爆发；发作 (高中英语单词)
- politely [pə´laitli] ad.温和地；文雅地 (高中英语单词)
- constable [´kʌnstəbəl] n.警察；警官 (高中英语单词)
- dreary [´driəri] a.阴郁的；枯燥无味的 (高中英语单词)
- adjustment [ə´dʒʌstmənt] n.调整；适应；调解 (高中英语单词)
- positively [´pɔzətivli] ad.确实；断然；绝对 (高中英语单词)
- alternately [ɔ:l´tə:nitli] ad.交替地，轮流地 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- celery [´seləri] n.芹菜 (英语四级单词)
- formality [fɔ:´mæliti] n.形式；礼仪；拘谨 (英语四级单词)
- brazen [´breizən] a.黄铜制的；无耻的 (英语四级单词)
- periodical [,piəri´ɔdikəl] a.定期的 n.期刊 (英语四级单词)
- blight [blait] n.打击 vt.摧残 (英语四级单词)
- exhaustion [ig´zɔ:stʃən] n.用完；精疲力尽 (英语四级单词)
- beastly [´bi:stli] a.残忍的；卑鄙的 (英语六级单词)
- lunatic [´lu:nətik] a.精神错乱的 n.疯子 (英语六级单词)
- asylum [ə´sailəm] n.避难所，收容所 (英语六级单词)
- champagne [ʃæm´pein] n.香槟酒；微黄色 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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