章节正文
'busted.' I guess I'm a man first and a detective
afterward. I've got to let you go, and then I've got
to resign from the force. I guess I can drive an ex-
press wagon. Your thousand dollars is further off
than ever, Johnny."
"Oh, you're welcome to it," said Kernan, with a
lordly air. "I'd be willing to call the debt off, but
I know you wouldn't have it It was a lucky day
for me when you borrowed it. And now, let's drop
the subject. I'm off to the West on a morning train.
I know a place out there where I can negotiate the
Norcross sparks. Drink up, Barney, and forget your
troubles. We'll have a jolly time while the police
are knocking their heads together over the case.
I've got one of my Sahara thirsts on to-night. But
I'm in the bands -- the unofficial bands -- of my old
friend Barney, and I won't even dream of a cop."
And then, as Kernan's ready finger kept the but-
ton and the waiterworking, his weak point -- a tre-
mendous vanity and arrogant egotism, began to show
itself. He recounted story after story of his suc-
cessful plunderings, ingenious plots and infamous
transgressions until Woods, with all his familiarity
with evil-doers, felt growing within him a cold ab-
horrence toward the utterly vicious man who had
once been his benefactor.
"I'm disposed of, of course," said Woods, at
length. "But I advise you to keep under cover for a
spell. The newspapers may take up this Norcross
affair. There has been an epidemic of burglaries and
manslaughter in town this summer."
The word sent Kernan into a high glow of sullen
and vindictive rage.
"To hell with the newspapers," he growled.
"What do they spell but brag and blow and boodle in
box-car letters? Suppose they do take up a case
what does it amount to? The police are easy enough
to fool; but what do the newspapers do? They send
a lot of pin-head reporters around to the scene; and
they make for the nearest saloon and have beer while
they take photos of the bartender's oldest daughter
in evening dress, to print as the fiancee of the young
man in the tenth story, who thought he heard a noise
below on the night of the murder. That's about as
near as the newspapers ever come to running down
Mr. Burglar."
"Well, I don't know," said Woods, reflecting.
"Some of the papers have done good work in that
line. There's the Morning Mars, for instance. It
warmed up two or three trails, and got the man after
the police had let 'em get cold."
"I'll show you," said Tiernan, rising, and expand-
ing his chest. "I'll show you what I think of news-
papers in general, and your Morning Mars in par-
ticular."
Three feet from their table was the telephone
booth. Kernan went inside and sat at the instrument,
leaving the door open. He found a number in the
book, took down the receiver and made his demand
upon Central. Woods sat still, looking at the sneer-
ing, cold, vigilant face waiting close to the trans-
mitter, and listened to the words that came from the
thin, truculent lips curved into a contemptuous smile.
"That the Morning Mars? . . . I want to
speak to the managing editor . . . Why, tell
him it's some one who wants to talk to him about the
Norcross murder.
"You the editor? . . . All right. . . . I
am the man who killed old Norcross . . . Wait!
Hold the wire; I'm not the usual crank . . . oh,
there isn't the slightest danger. I've just been dis-
cussing it with a detective friend of mine. I killed
the old man at 2:30 A. M. two weeks ago to-
morrow. . . . Have a drink with you? Now,
hadn't you better leave that kind of talk to your
funny man? Can't you tell whether a man's guying
you or whether you're being offered the biggest scoop
your dull dishrag of a paper ever had? . . .
Well, that's so; it's a bobtail scoop -- but you can
hardly expect me to 'phone in my name and address.
. . . Why? Oh, because I beard you make a
specialty of solving mysterious crimes that stump the
police. . . . No, that's not all. I want to tell
you that your rotten, lying, penny sheet is of no more
use in tracking an intelligentmurderer or highway-
man than a blind poodle would be. . . . What?
. . . Oh, no, this isn't a rival newspaper office;
you're getting it straight. I did the Norcross job,
and I've got the jewels in my suit case at -- 'the
name of the hotel could not be learned' -- you recog-
nize that phrase, don't you? I thought so. You've
used it often enough. Kind of rattles you, doesn't
it, to have the mysteriousvillain call up your great,
big, all-powerful organ of right and justice and good
government and tell you what a helpless old gas-bag
you are? . . . Cut that out; you're not that big
a fool -- no, you don't think I'm a fraud. I can tell
it by your voice. . . . Now, listen, and I'll give
you a pointer that will prove it to you. Of course
you've had this murder case worked over by your staff
of bright young blockheads. Half of the second but-
ton on old Mrs. Norcross's nightgown is broken off.
I saw it when I took the garnet ring off her finger.
I thought it was a ruby. . . . -- Stop that! it
won't work."
Kernan turned to Woods with a diabolic smile.
"I've got him going. He believes me now. He
didn't quite cover the transmitter with his hand when
he told somebody to call up Central on another 'phone
and get our number. I'll give him just one more dig,
and then we'll make a 'get-away.'
"Hello! . . . Yes. I'm here yet. You
didn't think -- I'd run from such a little subsidized, turn-
coat rag of a newspaper, did you? . . . Have
me inside of forty-eight hours? Say, will you quit
being funny? Now, you let grown men alone and at-
tend to your business of hunting up divorce cases
and street-car accidents and printing the filth and
scandal that you make your living by. Good-by, old
boy -- sorry I haven't time to call on you. I'd feel
perfectly safe in your sanctum asinorum. Tra-la!"
"He's as mad as a cat that's lost a mouse," said
Kernan, hanging up the receiver and coming out.
"And now, Barney, my boy, we'll go to a show and
enjoy ourselves until a reasonablebedtime. Four
hours' sleep for me, and then the west-bound."
The two dined in a Broadway restaurant. Kernan
was pleased with himself. He spent money like a
prince of fiction. And then a weird and gorgeous
musical comedy engaged their attention. Afterward
there was a late supper in a grillroom, with
champagne, and Kernan at the height of his com-
placency.
Half-past three in the morning found them in a
corner of an all-night cafe, Kernan still boasting in
a vapid and rambling way, Woods thinking moodily
over the end that had come to his usefulness as an
upholder of the law.
But, as he pondered, his eye brightened with a
speculative light.
"I wonder if it's possible," be said to himself, "I
won-der if it's pos-si-ble!
And then outside the cafe the comparative stillness
of the early morning was punctured by faint, uncer-
tain cries that seemed mere fireflies of sound, some
growing louder, some fainter, waxing and waning
amid the rumble of milk wagons and infrequent cars.
Shrill cries they were when near -- well-known cries
that conveyed many meanings to the ears of those of
the slumbering millions of the great city who waked
to hear them. Cries that bore upon their significant,
small volume the weight of a world's woe and laugh-
ter and delight and stress. To some, cowering be-
neath the protection of a night's ephemeral cover,
they brought news of the hideous, bright day; to
others, wrapped in happy sleep, they announced a
morning that would dawn blacker than sable night.
To many of the rich they brought a besom to sweep
away what had been theirs while the stars shone; to
the poor they brought -- another day.
All over the city the cries were starting up, keen
and sonorous, heralding the chances that the slip-
ping of one cogwheel in the machinery of time had
made; apportioning to the sleepers while they lay
at the mercy of fate, the vengeance, profit, grief,
reward and doom that the new figure in the calen-
dar had brought them. Shrill and yet plaintive
were the cries, as if the young voices grieved that so
much evil and so little good was in their irresponsible
hands. Thus echoed in the streets of the helpless
city the transmission of the latest decrees of the gods,
the cries of the newsboys -- the Clarion Call of the
Press.
Woods flipped a dime to the waiter, and said:
"Get me a Morning Mars."
When the paper came he glanced at its first page,
and then tore a leaf out of his memorandum book
and began to write on it with the little old pencil.
"What's the news?"' yawned Kernan.
Woods flipped over to him the piece of writing:
"The New York Morning Mars:
"Please pay to the order of John Kernan the one thousand
dollars reward coming to me for his arrest and conviction.
"BARNARD WOODS."
"I kind of thought they would do that," said
Woods, "when you were jollying them so hard. Now,
Johnny, you'll come to the police station with me."
EXTRADITED FROM BOHEMIA
From near the village of Harmony, at the foot
of the Green Mountains, came Miss Medora Martin
to New York with her color-box and easel.
Miss Medora resembled the rose which the autum-
nal frosts had spared the longest of all her sister
blossoms. In Harmony, when she started alone to
the wicked city to study art, they said she was a mad,
reckless, headstrong girl. In New York, when she
first took her seat at a West Side boardinghouse
table, the boarders asked: "Who is the nice-looking
old maid?"
Medora took heart, a cheap hall bedroom and two
art lessons a week from Professor Angelini, a retired
afterward. I've got to let you go, and then I've got
to resign from the force. I guess I can drive an ex-
press wagon. Your thousand dollars is further off
than ever, Johnny."
"Oh, you're welcome to it," said Kernan, with a
lordly air. "I'd be willing to call the debt off, but
I know you wouldn't have it It was a lucky day
for me when you borrowed it. And now, let's drop
the subject. I'm off to the West on a morning train.
I know a place out there where I can negotiate the
Norcross sparks. Drink up, Barney, and forget your
troubles. We'll have a jolly time while the police
are knocking their heads together over the case.
I've got one of my Sahara thirsts on to-night. But
I'm in the bands -- the unofficial bands -- of my old
friend Barney, and I won't even dream of a cop."
And then, as Kernan's ready finger kept the but-
ton and the waiterworking, his weak point -- a tre-
mendous vanity and arrogant egotism, began to show
itself. He recounted story after story of his suc-
cessful plunderings, ingenious plots and infamous
transgressions until Woods, with all his familiarity
with evil-doers, felt growing within him a cold ab-
horrence toward the utterly vicious man who had
once been his benefactor.
"I'm disposed of, of course," said Woods, at
length. "But I advise you to keep under cover for a
spell. The newspapers may take up this Norcross
affair. There has been an epidemic of burglaries and
manslaughter in town this summer."
The word sent Kernan into a high glow of sullen
and vindictive rage.
"To hell with the newspapers," he growled.
"What do they spell but brag and blow and boodle in
box-car letters? Suppose they do take up a case
what does it amount to? The police are easy enough
to fool; but what do the newspapers do? They send
a lot of pin-head reporters around to the scene; and
they make for the nearest saloon and have beer while
they take photos of the bartender's oldest daughter
in evening dress, to print as the fiancee of the young
man in the tenth story, who thought he heard a noise
below on the night of the murder. That's about as
near as the newspapers ever come to running down
Mr. Burglar."
"Well, I don't know," said Woods, reflecting.
"Some of the papers have done good work in that
line. There's the Morning Mars, for instance. It
warmed up two or three trails, and got the man after
the police had let 'em get cold."
"I'll show you," said Tiernan, rising, and expand-
ing his chest. "I'll show you what I think of news-
papers in general, and your Morning Mars in par-
ticular."
Three feet from their table was the telephone
booth. Kernan went inside and sat at the instrument,
leaving the door open. He found a number in the
book, took down the receiver and made his demand
upon Central. Woods sat still, looking at the sneer-
ing, cold, vigilant face waiting close to the trans-
mitter, and listened to the words that came from the
thin, truculent lips curved into a contemptuous smile.
"That the Morning Mars? . . . I want to
speak to the managing editor . . . Why, tell
him it's some one who wants to talk to him about the
Norcross murder.
"You the editor? . . . All right. . . . I
am the man who killed old Norcross . . . Wait!
Hold the wire; I'm not the usual crank . . . oh,
there isn't the slightest danger. I've just been dis-
cussing it with a detective friend of mine. I killed
the old man at 2:30 A. M. two weeks ago to-
morrow. . . . Have a drink with you? Now,
hadn't you better leave that kind of talk to your
funny man? Can't you tell whether a man's guying
you or whether you're being offered the biggest scoop
your dull dishrag of a paper ever had? . . .
Well, that's so; it's a bobtail scoop -- but you can
hardly expect me to 'phone in my name and address.
. . . Why? Oh, because I beard you make a
specialty of solving mysterious crimes that stump the
police. . . . No, that's not all. I want to tell
you that your rotten, lying, penny sheet is of no more
use in tracking an intelligentmurderer or highway-
man than a blind poodle would be. . . . What?
. . . Oh, no, this isn't a rival newspaper office;
you're getting it straight. I did the Norcross job,
and I've got the jewels in my suit case at -- 'the
name of the hotel could not be learned' -- you recog-
nize that phrase, don't you? I thought so. You've
used it often enough. Kind of rattles you, doesn't
it, to have the mysteriousvillain call up your great,
big, all-powerful organ of right and justice and good
government and tell you what a helpless old gas-bag
you are? . . . Cut that out; you're not that big
a fool -- no, you don't think I'm a fraud. I can tell
it by your voice. . . . Now, listen, and I'll give
you a pointer that will prove it to you. Of course
you've had this murder case worked over by your staff
of bright young blockheads. Half of the second but-
ton on old Mrs. Norcross's nightgown is broken off.
I saw it when I took the garnet ring off her finger.
I thought it was a ruby. . . . -- Stop that! it
won't work."
Kernan turned to Woods with a diabolic smile.
"I've got him going. He believes me now. He
didn't quite cover the transmitter with his hand when
he told somebody to call up Central on another 'phone
and get our number. I'll give him just one more dig,
and then we'll make a 'get-away.'
"Hello! . . . Yes. I'm here yet. You
didn't think -- I'd run from such a little subsidized, turn-
coat rag of a newspaper, did you? . . . Have
me inside of forty-eight hours? Say, will you quit
being funny? Now, you let grown men alone and at-
tend to your business of hunting up divorce cases
and street-car accidents and printing the filth and
scandal that you make your living by. Good-by, old
boy -- sorry I haven't time to call on you. I'd feel
perfectly safe in your sanctum asinorum. Tra-la!"
"He's as mad as a cat that's lost a mouse," said
Kernan, hanging up the receiver and coming out.
"And now, Barney, my boy, we'll go to a show and
enjoy ourselves until a reasonablebedtime. Four
hours' sleep for me, and then the west-bound."
The two dined in a Broadway restaurant. Kernan
was pleased with himself. He spent money like a
prince of fiction. And then a weird and gorgeous
musical comedy engaged their attention. Afterward
there was a late supper in a grillroom, with
champagne, and Kernan at the height of his com-
placency.
Half-past three in the morning found them in a
corner of an all-night cafe, Kernan still boasting in
a vapid and rambling way, Woods thinking moodily
over the end that had come to his usefulness as an
upholder of the law.
But, as he pondered, his eye brightened with a
speculative light.
"I wonder if it's possible," be said to himself, "I
won-der if it's pos-si-ble!
And then outside the cafe the comparative stillness
of the early morning was punctured by faint, uncer-
tain cries that seemed mere fireflies of sound, some
growing louder, some fainter, waxing and waning
amid the rumble of milk wagons and infrequent cars.
Shrill cries they were when near -- well-known cries
that conveyed many meanings to the ears of those of
the slumbering millions of the great city who waked
to hear them. Cries that bore upon their significant,
small volume the weight of a world's woe and laugh-
ter and delight and stress. To some, cowering be-
neath the protection of a night's ephemeral cover,
they brought news of the hideous, bright day; to
others, wrapped in happy sleep, they announced a
morning that would dawn blacker than sable night.
To many of the rich they brought a besom to sweep
away what had been theirs while the stars shone; to
the poor they brought -- another day.
All over the city the cries were starting up, keen
and sonorous, heralding the chances that the slip-
ping of one cogwheel in the machinery of time had
made; apportioning to the sleepers while they lay
at the mercy of fate, the vengeance, profit, grief,
reward and doom that the new figure in the calen-
dar had brought them. Shrill and yet plaintive
were the cries, as if the young voices grieved that so
much evil and so little good was in their irresponsible
hands. Thus echoed in the streets of the helpless
city the transmission of the latest decrees of the gods,
the cries of the newsboys -- the Clarion Call of the
Press.
Woods flipped a dime to the waiter, and said:
"Get me a Morning Mars."
When the paper came he glanced at its first page,
and then tore a leaf out of his memorandum book
and began to write on it with the little old pencil.
"What's the news?"' yawned Kernan.
Woods flipped over to him the piece of writing:
"The New York Morning Mars:
"Please pay to the order of John Kernan the one thousand
dollars reward coming to me for his arrest and conviction.
"BARNARD WOODS."
"I kind of thought they would do that," said
Woods, "when you were jollying them so hard. Now,
Johnny, you'll come to the police station with me."
EXTRADITED FROM BOHEMIA
From near the village of Harmony, at the foot
of the Green Mountains, came Miss Medora Martin
to New York with her color-box and easel.
Miss Medora resembled the rose which the autum-
nal frosts had spared the longest of all her sister
blossoms. In Harmony, when she started alone to
the wicked city to study art, they said she was a mad,
reckless, headstrong girl. In New York, when she
first took her seat at a West Side boardinghouse
table, the boarders asked: "Who is the nice-looking
old maid?"
Medora took heart, a cheap hall bedroom and two
art lessons a week from Professor Angelini, a retired
- resign [ri´zain]
v.辞职；放弃；委托 (初中英语单词) - welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- willing [´wiliŋ] a.情愿的，乐意的 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- vanity [´væniti] n.虚荣；自负；空虚 (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- amount [ə´maunt] n.总数；数量 v.合计 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- detective [di´tektiv] n.侦探 a.侦探的 (初中英语单词)
- mysterious [mi´stiəriəs] a.神秘的；难以理解的 (初中英语单词)
- intelligent [in´telidʒənt] a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词)
- phrase [freiz] n.短语；词组；措词 (初中英语单词)
- helpless [´helpləs] a.无助的，无依靠的 (初中英语单词)
- divorce [di´vɔ:s] n.离婚 vt.同....离婚 (初中英语单词)
- reasonable [´rizənəbəl] a.合理的；有理智的 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- comparative [kəm´pærətiv] a.比较的 n.匹敌者 (初中英语单词)
- well-known [,wel´nəun] a.著名的，众所周知的 (初中英语单词)
- volume [´vɔlju:m, ´vɑljəm] n.卷；书籍；体积；容量 (初中英语单词)
- stress [stres] n.强调；压力 vt.强调 (初中英语单词)
- protection [prə´tekʃən] n.警戒；护照；通行证 (初中英语单词)
- reward [ri´wɔ:d] n.&v.报答；报酬；奖赏 (初中英语单词)
- arrest [ə´rest] vt.逮捕 n.逮捕；停止 (初中英语单词)
- harmony [´hɑ:məni] n.调合，协调，和谐 (初中英语单词)
- wicked [´wikid] a.邪恶的；不道德的 (初中英语单词)
- ingenious [in´dʒi:niəs] a.富于创新的；巧妙的 (高中英语单词)
- saloon [sə´lu:n] n.大厅；餐车 (高中英语单词)
- receiver [ri´si:və] n.接收者；接待人 (高中英语单词)
- rotten [´rɔtn] a.腐烂的；腐朽的 (高中英语单词)
- murderer [´mə:dərə] n.杀人犯，凶手 (高中英语单词)
- hanging [´hæŋiŋ] n.绞刑 a.悬挂着的 (高中英语单词)
- broadway [´brɔ:dwei] n.&a.百老汇大街(的) (高中英语单词)
- fiction [´fikʃən] n.小说；虚构；谎言 (高中英语单词)
- comedy [´kɔmidi] n.喜剧；喜剧场面 (高中英语单词)
- rumble [´rʌmbəl] v.(使)隆隆响 n.隆隆声 (高中英语单词)
- hideous [´hidiəs] a.丑陋的，可怕的 (高中英语单词)
- theirs [ðeəz] pron.他们的 (高中英语单词)
- vengeance [´vendʒəns] n.报复，复仇 (高中英语单词)
- shrill [ʃril] a.(声音)尖锐的 (高中英语单词)
- negotiate [ni´gəuʃieit] v.谈判；解决；转让 (英语四级单词)
- waiter [´weitə] n.侍者，服务员 (英语四级单词)
- vicious [´viʃəs] a.不道德的；刻毒的 (英语四级单词)
- epidemic [,epi´demik] n.&a.流行病(的) (英语四级单词)
- villain [´vilən] n.坏人；恶棍；反面角色 (英语四级单词)
- bedtime [´bedtaim] n.就寝时间 (英语四级单词)
- arrogant [´ærəgənt] a.傲慢的；自大的 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuous [kən´temptjuəs] a.蔑视的；傲慢的 (英语六级单词)
- hunting [´hʌntiŋ] n.打猎 (英语六级单词)
- usefulness [´ju:sfəlnis] n.有用(性)；有益(性) (英语六级单词)
- transmission [trænz´miʃən, træns-] n.传送；播送；发射 (英语六级单词)
- memorandum [,memə´rændəm] n.备忘录；记录 (英语六级单词)
- retired [ri´taiəd] a.退休的；通职的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
