章节正文
particularly somebody that he never referred to without a shudder -
an old man with a young voice who could hood his eyes like a hawk.
He spoke a good deal about death, too. He was mortally anxious
about winning through with his job, but he didn't care a rush for
his life.
'I reckon it's like going to sleep when you are pretty well tired
out, and waking to find a summer day with the scent of hay coming
in at the window. I used to thank God for such mornings way back
in the Blue-Grass country, and I guess I'll thank Him when I wake
up on the other side of Jordan.'
Next day he was much more cheerful, and read the life of Stonewall
Jackson much of the time. I went out to dinner with a mining
engineer I had got to see on business, and came back about half-past
ten in time for our game of chess before turning in.
I had a cigar in my mouth, I remember, as I pushed open the
smoking-room door. The lights were not lit, which struck me as
odd. I wondered if Scudder had turned in already.
I snapped the switch, but there was nobody there. Then I saw
something in the far corner which made me drop my cigar and fall
into a cold sweat.
My guest was lying sprawled on his back. There was a long knife
through his heart which skewered him to the floor.
CHAPTER TWO
The Milkman Sets Out on his Travels
I sat down in an armchair and felt very sick. That lasted for maybe
five minutes, and was succeeded by a fit of the horrors. The poor
staring white face on the floor was more than I could bear, and I
managed to get a table-cloth and cover it. Then I staggered to a
cupboard, found the brandy and swallowed several mouthfuls. I
had seen men die violently before; indeed I had killed a few myself
in the Matabele War; but this cold-blooded indoor business was
different. Still I managed to pull myself together. I looked at my
watch, and saw that it was half-past ten.
An idea seized me, and I went over the flat with a small-tooth
comb. There was nobody there, nor any trace of anybody, but I
shuttered and bolted all the windows and put the chain on the door.
By this time my wits were coming back to me, and I could think
again. It took me about an hour to figure the thing out, and I did
not hurry, for, unless the murderer came back, I had till about six
o'clock in the morning for my cogitations.
I was in the soup - that was pretty clear. Any shadow of a doubt
I might have had about the truth of Scudder's tale was now gone.
The proof of it was lying under the table-cloth. The men who
knew that he knew what he knew had found him, and had taken
the best way to make certain of his silence. Yes; but he had been in
my rooms four days, and his enemies must have reckoned that he
had confided in me. So I would be the next to go. It might be that
very night, or next day, or the day after, but my number was up
all right.
Then suddenly I thought of another probability. Supposing I
went out now and called in the police, or went to bed and let
Paddock find the body and call them in the morning. What kind of
a story was I to tell about Scudder? I had lied to Paddock about
him, and the whole thing looked desperately fishy. If I made a clean
breast of it and told the police everything he had told me, they
would simply laugh at me. The odds were a thousand to one that I
would be charged with the murder, and the circumstantial evidence
was strong enough to hang me. Few people knew me in England; I
had no real pal who could come forward and swear to my character.
Perhaps that was what those secret enemies were playing for. They
were clever enough for anything, and an English prison was as
good a way of getting rid of me till after June 15th as a knife in
my chest.
Besides, if I told the whole story, and by any miracle was believed,
I would be playing their game. Karolides would stay at home,
which was what they wanted. Somehow or other the sight of
Scudder's dead face had made me a passionatebeliever in his
scheme. He was gone, but he had taken me into his confidence, and
I was pretty well bound to carry on his work.
You may think this ridiculous for a man in danger of his life, but
that was the way I looked at it. I am an ordinary sort of fellow, not
braver than other people, but I hate to see a good man downed,
and that long knife would not be the end of Scudder if I could play
the game in his place.
It took me an hour or two to think this out, and by that time I
had come to a decision. I must vanish somehow, and keep vanished
till the end of the second week in June. Then I must somehow find
a way to get in touch with the Government people and tell them
what Scudder had told me. I wished to Heaven he had told me
more, and that I had listened more carefully to the little he had told
me. I knew nothing but the barest facts. There was a big risk that,
even if I weathered the other dangers, I would not be believed in
the end. I must take my chance of that, and hope that something
might happen which would confirm my tale in the eyes of the Government.
My first job was to keep going for the next three weeks. It was
now the 24th day of May, and that meant twenty days of hiding
before I could venture to approach the powers that be. I reckoned
that two sets of people would be looking for me - Scudder's
enemies to put me out of existence, and the police, who would
want me for Scudder's murder. It was going to be a giddy hunt,
and it was queer how the prospect comforted me. I had been slack
so long that almost any chance of activity was welcome. When I
had to sit alone with that corpse and wait on Fortune I was no
better than a crushed worm, but if my neck's safety was to hang on
my own wits I was prepared to be cheerful about it.
My next thought was whether Scudder had any papers about him
to give me a better clue to the business. I drew back the table-cloth
and searched his pockets, for I had no longer any shrinking from
the body. The face was wonderfully calm for a man who had been
struck down in a moment. There was nothing in the breast-pocket,
and only a few loose coins and a cigar-holder in the waistcoat. The
trousers held a little penknife and some silver, and the side pocket
of his jacket contained an old crocodile-skin cigar-case. There was
no sign of the little black book in which I had seen him making
notes. That had no doubt been taken by his murderer.
But as I looked up from my task I saw that some drawers had
been pulled out in the writing-table. Scudder would never have left
them in that state, for he was the tidiest of mortals. Someone must
have been searching for something - perhaps for the pocket-book.
I went round the flat and found that everything had been ransacked
- the inside of books, drawers, cupboards, boxes, even the
pockets of the clothes in my wardrobe, and the sideboard in the
dining-room. There was no trace of the book. Most likely the enemy
had found it, but they had not found it on Scudder's body.
Then I got out an atlas and looked at a big map of the British
Isles. My notion was to get off to some wild district, where my
veldcraft would be of some use to me, for I would be like a trapped
rat in a city. I considered that Scotland would be best, for my
people were Scotch and I could pass anywhere as an ordinary
Scotsman. I had half an idea at first to be a German tourist, for my
father had had German partners, and I had been brought up to
speak the tongue pretty fluently, not to mention having put in
three years prospecting for copper in German Damaraland. But I
calculated that it would be less conspicuous to be a Scot, and less in
a line with what the police might know of my past. I fixed on
Galloway as the best place to go. It was the nearest wild part of
Scotland, so far as I could figure it out, and from the look of the
map was not over thick with population.
A search in Bradshaw informed me that a train left St Pancras at
7.10, which would land me at any Galloway station in the late
afternoon. That was well enough, but a more important matter was
how I was to make my way to St Pancras, for I was pretty certain
that Scudder's friends would be watching outside. This puzzled me
for a bit; then I had an inspiration, on which I went to bed and
slept for two troubled hours.
I got up at four and opened my bedroom shutters. The faint
light of a fine summer morning was flooding the skies, and the
sparrows had begun to chatter. I had a great revulsion of feeling,
and felt a God-forgotten fool. My inclination was to let things
slide, and trust to the British police taking a reasonable view of my
case. But as I reviewed the situation I could find no arguments to
bring against my decision of the previous night, so with a wry
mouth I resolved to go on with my plan. I was not feeling in any
particular funk; only disinclined to go looking for trouble, if you
understand me.
I hunted out a well-used tweed suit, a pair of strong nailed boots,
and a flannel shirt with a collar. Into my pockets I stuffed a spare
shirt, a cloth cap, some handkerchiefs, and a tooth-brush. I had
drawn a good sum in gold from the bank two days before, in case
Scudder should want money, and I took fifty pounds of it in
sovereigns in a belt which I had brought back from Rhodesia. That
was about all I wanted. Then I had a bath, and cut my moustache,
which was long and drooping, into a short stubbly fringe.
Now came the next step. Paddock used to arrive punctually at
7.30 and let himself in with a latch-key. But about twenty minutes
to seven, as I knew from bitter experience, the milkman turned up
with a great clatter of cans, and deposited my share outside my
door. I had seen that milkman sometimes when I had gone out for
an early ride. He was a young man about my own height, with an
ill-nourished moustache, and he wore a white overall. On him I
staked all my chances.
I went into the darkened smoking-room where the rays of morning
light were beginning to creep through the shutters. There I
breakfasted off a whisky-and-soda and some biscuits from the cupboard.
By this time it was getting on for six o'clock. I put a pipe in
My Pocket and filled my pouch from the tobacco jar on the table by
the fireplace.
As I poked into the tobacco my fingers touched something hard,
and I drew out Scudder's little black pocket-book ...
That seemed to me a good omen. I lifted the cloth from the body
and was amazed at the peace and dignity of the dead face. 'Goodbye,
old chap,' I said; 'I am going to do my best for you. Wish me
well, wherever you are.'
Then I hung about in the hall waiting for the milkman. That was
the worst part of the business, for I was fairly choking to get out of
doors. Six-thirty passed, then six-forty, but still he did not come.
The fool had chosen this day of all days to be late.
At one minute after the quarter to seven I heard the rattle of the
cans outside. I opened the front door, and there was my man,
singling out my cans from a bunch he carried and whistling through
his teeth. He jumped a bit at the sight of me.
'Come in here a moment,' I said. 'I want a word with you.' And
I led him into the dining-room.
'I reckon you're a bit of a sportsman,' I said, 'and I want you to
do me a service. Lend me your cap and overall for ten minutes, and
here's a sovereign for you.'
His eyes opened at the sight of the gold, and he grinned broadly.
'Wot's the gyme?'he asked.
'A bet,' I said. 'I haven't time to explain, but to win it I've got to
be a milkman for the next ten minutes. All you've got to do is to
stay here till I come back. You'll be a bit late, but nobody will
complain, and you'll have that quid for yourself.'
'Right-o!' he said cheerily. 'I ain't the man to spoil a bit of sport.
'Ere's the rig, guv'nor.'
I stuck on his flat blue hat and his white overall, picked up the
cans, banged my door, and went whistling downstairs. The porter
at the foot told me to shut my jaw, which sounded as if my make-up
was adequate.
At first I thought there was nobody in the street. Then I caught
sight of a policeman a hundred yards down, and a loafer shuffling
past on the other side. Some impulse made me raise my eyes to the
an old man with a young voice who could hood his eyes like a hawk.
He spoke a good deal about death, too. He was mortally anxious
about winning through with his job, but he didn't care a rush for
his life.
'I reckon it's like going to sleep when you are pretty well tired
out, and waking to find a summer day with the scent of hay coming
in at the window. I used to thank God for such mornings way back
in the Blue-Grass country, and I guess I'll thank Him when I wake
up on the other side of Jordan.'
Next day he was much more cheerful, and read the life of Stonewall
Jackson much of the time. I went out to dinner with a mining
engineer I had got to see on business, and came back about half-past
ten in time for our game of chess before turning in.
I had a cigar in my mouth, I remember, as I pushed open the
smoking-room door. The lights were not lit, which struck me as
odd. I wondered if Scudder had turned in already.
I snapped the switch, but there was nobody there. Then I saw
something in the far corner which made me drop my cigar and fall
into a cold sweat.
My guest was lying sprawled on his back. There was a long knife
through his heart which skewered him to the floor.
CHAPTER TWO
The Milkman Sets Out on his Travels
I sat down in an armchair and felt very sick. That lasted for maybe
five minutes, and was succeeded by a fit of the horrors. The poor
staring white face on the floor was more than I could bear, and I
managed to get a table-cloth and cover it. Then I staggered to a
cupboard, found the brandy and swallowed several mouthfuls. I
had seen men die violently before; indeed I had killed a few myself
in the Matabele War; but this cold-blooded indoor business was
different. Still I managed to pull myself together. I looked at my
watch, and saw that it was half-past ten.
An idea seized me, and I went over the flat with a small-tooth
comb. There was nobody there, nor any trace of anybody, but I
shuttered and bolted all the windows and put the chain on the door.
By this time my wits were coming back to me, and I could think
again. It took me about an hour to figure the thing out, and I did
not hurry, for, unless the murderer came back, I had till about six
o'clock in the morning for my cogitations.
I was in the soup - that was pretty clear. Any shadow of a doubt
I might have had about the truth of Scudder's tale was now gone.
The proof of it was lying under the table-cloth. The men who
knew that he knew what he knew had found him, and had taken
the best way to make certain of his silence. Yes; but he had been in
my rooms four days, and his enemies must have reckoned that he
had confided in me. So I would be the next to go. It might be that
very night, or next day, or the day after, but my number was up
all right.
Then suddenly I thought of another probability. Supposing I
went out now and called in the police, or went to bed and let
Paddock find the body and call them in the morning. What kind of
a story was I to tell about Scudder? I had lied to Paddock about
him, and the whole thing looked desperately fishy. If I made a clean
breast of it and told the police everything he had told me, they
would simply laugh at me. The odds were a thousand to one that I
would be charged with the murder, and the circumstantial evidence
was strong enough to hang me. Few people knew me in England; I
had no real pal who could come forward and swear to my character.
Perhaps that was what those secret enemies were playing for. They
were clever enough for anything, and an English prison was as
good a way of getting rid of me till after June 15th as a knife in
my chest.
Besides, if I told the whole story, and by any miracle was believed,
I would be playing their game. Karolides would stay at home,
which was what they wanted. Somehow or other the sight of
Scudder's dead face had made me a passionatebeliever in his
scheme. He was gone, but he had taken me into his confidence, and
I was pretty well bound to carry on his work.
You may think this ridiculous for a man in danger of his life, but
that was the way I looked at it. I am an ordinary sort of fellow, not
braver than other people, but I hate to see a good man downed,
and that long knife would not be the end of Scudder if I could play
the game in his place.
It took me an hour or two to think this out, and by that time I
had come to a decision. I must vanish somehow, and keep vanished
till the end of the second week in June. Then I must somehow find
a way to get in touch with the Government people and tell them
what Scudder had told me. I wished to Heaven he had told me
more, and that I had listened more carefully to the little he had told
me. I knew nothing but the barest facts. There was a big risk that,
even if I weathered the other dangers, I would not be believed in
the end. I must take my chance of that, and hope that something
might happen which would confirm my tale in the eyes of the Government.
My first job was to keep going for the next three weeks. It was
now the 24th day of May, and that meant twenty days of hiding
before I could venture to approach the powers that be. I reckoned
that two sets of people would be looking for me - Scudder's
enemies to put me out of existence, and the police, who would
want me for Scudder's murder. It was going to be a giddy hunt,
and it was queer how the prospect comforted me. I had been slack
so long that almost any chance of activity was welcome. When I
had to sit alone with that corpse and wait on Fortune I was no
better than a crushed worm, but if my neck's safety was to hang on
my own wits I was prepared to be cheerful about it.
My next thought was whether Scudder had any papers about him
to give me a better clue to the business. I drew back the table-cloth
and searched his pockets, for I had no longer any shrinking from
the body. The face was wonderfully calm for a man who had been
struck down in a moment. There was nothing in the breast-pocket,
and only a few loose coins and a cigar-holder in the waistcoat. The
trousers held a little penknife and some silver, and the side pocket
of his jacket contained an old crocodile-skin cigar-case. There was
no sign of the little black book in which I had seen him making
notes. That had no doubt been taken by his murderer.
But as I looked up from my task I saw that some drawers had
been pulled out in the writing-table. Scudder would never have left
them in that state, for he was the tidiest of mortals. Someone must
have been searching for something - perhaps for the pocket-book.
I went round the flat and found that everything had been ransacked
- the inside of books, drawers, cupboards, boxes, even the
pockets of the clothes in my wardrobe, and the sideboard in the
dining-room. There was no trace of the book. Most likely the enemy
had found it, but they had not found it on Scudder's body.
Then I got out an atlas and looked at a big map of the British
Isles. My notion was to get off to some wild district, where my
veldcraft would be of some use to me, for I would be like a trapped
rat in a city. I considered that Scotland would be best, for my
people were Scotch and I could pass anywhere as an ordinary
Scotsman. I had half an idea at first to be a German tourist, for my
father had had German partners, and I had been brought up to
speak the tongue pretty fluently, not to mention having put in
three years prospecting for copper in German Damaraland. But I
calculated that it would be less conspicuous to be a Scot, and less in
a line with what the police might know of my past. I fixed on
Galloway as the best place to go. It was the nearest wild part of
Scotland, so far as I could figure it out, and from the look of the
map was not over thick with population.
A search in Bradshaw informed me that a train left St Pancras at
7.10, which would land me at any Galloway station in the late
afternoon. That was well enough, but a more important matter was
how I was to make my way to St Pancras, for I was pretty certain
that Scudder's friends would be watching outside. This puzzled me
for a bit; then I had an inspiration, on which I went to bed and
slept for two troubled hours.
I got up at four and opened my bedroom shutters. The faint
light of a fine summer morning was flooding the skies, and the
sparrows had begun to chatter. I had a great revulsion of feeling,
and felt a God-forgotten fool. My inclination was to let things
slide, and trust to the British police taking a reasonable view of my
case. But as I reviewed the situation I could find no arguments to
bring against my decision of the previous night, so with a wry
mouth I resolved to go on with my plan. I was not feeling in any
particular funk; only disinclined to go looking for trouble, if you
understand me.
I hunted out a well-used tweed suit, a pair of strong nailed boots,
and a flannel shirt with a collar. Into my pockets I stuffed a spare
shirt, a cloth cap, some handkerchiefs, and a tooth-brush. I had
drawn a good sum in gold from the bank two days before, in case
Scudder should want money, and I took fifty pounds of it in
sovereigns in a belt which I had brought back from Rhodesia. That
was about all I wanted. Then I had a bath, and cut my moustache,
which was long and drooping, into a short stubbly fringe.
Now came the next step. Paddock used to arrive punctually at
7.30 and let himself in with a latch-key. But about twenty minutes
to seven, as I knew from bitter experience, the milkman turned up
with a great clatter of cans, and deposited my share outside my
door. I had seen that milkman sometimes when I had gone out for
an early ride. He was a young man about my own height, with an
ill-nourished moustache, and he wore a white overall. On him I
staked all my chances.
I went into the darkened smoking-room where the rays of morning
light were beginning to creep through the shutters. There I
breakfasted off a whisky-and-soda and some biscuits from the cupboard.
By this time it was getting on for six o'clock. I put a pipe in
My Pocket and filled my pouch from the tobacco jar on the table by
the fireplace.
As I poked into the tobacco my fingers touched something hard,
and I drew out Scudder's little black pocket-book ...
That seemed to me a good omen. I lifted the cloth from the body
and was amazed at the peace and dignity of the dead face. 'Goodbye,
old chap,' I said; 'I am going to do my best for you. Wish me
well, wherever you are.'
Then I hung about in the hall waiting for the milkman. That was
the worst part of the business, for I was fairly choking to get out of
doors. Six-thirty passed, then six-forty, but still he did not come.
The fool had chosen this day of all days to be late.
At one minute after the quarter to seven I heard the rattle of the
cans outside. I opened the front door, and there was my man,
singling out my cans from a bunch he carried and whistling through
his teeth. He jumped a bit at the sight of me.
'Come in here a moment,' I said. 'I want a word with you.' And
I led him into the dining-room.
'I reckon you're a bit of a sportsman,' I said, 'and I want you to
do me a service. Lend me your cap and overall for ten minutes, and
here's a sovereign for you.'
His eyes opened at the sight of the gold, and he grinned broadly.
'Wot's the gyme?'he asked.
'A bet,' I said. 'I haven't time to explain, but to win it I've got to
be a milkman for the next ten minutes. All you've got to do is to
stay here till I come back. You'll be a bit late, but nobody will
complain, and you'll have that quid for yourself.'
'Right-o!' he said cheerily. 'I ain't the man to spoil a bit of sport.
'Ere's the rig, guv'nor.'
I stuck on his flat blue hat and his white overall, picked up the
cans, banged my door, and went whistling downstairs. The porter
at the foot told me to shut my jaw, which sounded as if my make-up
was adequate.
At first I thought there was nobody in the street. Then I caught
sight of a policeman a hundred yards down, and a loafer shuffling
past on the other side. Some impulse made me raise my eyes to the
- reckon [´rekən]
v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词) - cheerful [´tʃiəful] a.快乐的；高兴的 (初中英语单词)
- miracle [´mirəkl] n.奇迹；令人惊奇的 (初中英语单词)
- vanish [´væniʃ] vi.消失；消散；消灭 (初中英语单词)
- confirm [kən´fə:m] vt.证实；认可；加强 (初中英语单词)
- venture [´ventʃə] n.投机 v.冒险；敢于 (初中英语单词)
- existence [ig´zistəns] n.存在；生存；生活 (初中英语单词)
- prospect [´prɔspekt, prəs´pekt] n.景色；境界 v.勘察 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- copper [´kɔpə] n.铜 a.铜制的 (初中英语单词)
- chatter [´tʃætə] vi.&n.饶舌；闲聊 (初中英语单词)
- reasonable [´rizənəbəl] a.合理的；有理智的 (初中英语单词)
- previous [´pri:viəs] a.先，前，以前的 (初中英语单词)
- collar [´kɔlə] n.衣领；(狗等的)项圈 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- tobacco [tə´bækəu] n.烟草(叶)；卷烟 (初中英语单词)
- dignity [´digniti] n.尊严，尊贵；高官显贵 (初中英语单词)
- wherever [weər´evə] conj.无论在哪里 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- rattle [´rætl] n.嘎吱声 (初中英语单词)
- sovereign [´sɔvrin] a.至高无上的 n.君主 (初中英语单词)
- downstairs [,daun´steəz] ad.在楼下 a.楼下的 (初中英语单词)
- policeman [pə´li:smən] n.警察 (初中英语单词)
- impulse [´impʌls] n.推动(力)；冲动；刺激 (初中英语单词)
- shudder [´ʃʌdə] n.&vi.震颤；发抖 (高中英语单词)
- switch [switʃ] n.开关 v.转换 (高中英语单词)
- violently [´vaiələntli] ad.强暴地；猛烈地 (高中英语单词)
- murderer [´mə:dərə] n.杀人犯，凶手 (高中英语单词)
- probability [,prɔbə´biliti] n.或有；可能性 (高中英语单词)
- desperately [´despəritli] ad.绝望地；拼命地 (高中英语单词)
- passionate [´pæʃənit] a.易动情的；易怒的 (高中英语单词)
- ridiculous [ri´dikjuləs] a.荒谬的；可笑的 (高中英语单词)
- scotch [skɔtʃ] vt.&n.刻痕(于)；划伤 (高中英语单词)
- tourist [´tuərist] n.游客，观光者 (高中英语单词)
- conspicuous [kən´spikjuəs] a.显著的；出众的 (高中英语单词)
- inspiration [,inspi´reiʃən] n.鼓舞；灵感；启发 (高中英语单词)
- inclination [,inkli´neiʃən] n.倾斜；爱好；天资 (高中英语单词)
- clatter [´klætə] n.&v.喧嚷；骚动 (高中英语单词)
- winning [´winiŋ] n.&a.胜利(的) (英语四级单词)
- armchair [´ɑ:mtʃeə] n.扶手椅 (英语四级单词)
- brandy [´brændi] n.白兰地酒 (英语四级单词)
- believer [bi´li:və] n.信徒 (英语四级单词)
- corpse [kɔ:ps] n.尸体 (英语四级单词)
- wonderfully [´wʌndəfuli] ad.令人惊讶地；奇妙地 (英语四级单词)
- wardrobe [´wɔ:drəub] n.衣柜；全部服装 (英语四级单词)
- resolved [ri´zɔlvd] a.决心的；坚定的 (英语四级单词)
- flannel [´flænl] n.法兰绒 (英语四级单词)
- cheerily [´tʃiərili] ad. 高兴地；愉快地 (英语四级单词)
- waistcoat [´weskət, ´weiskəut] n.背心，马甲 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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