”Fool!”Thewordrangoutinbitterironyfromhisirateneighbour’slips。”Whatdoesheknowofwoman!Woman!Lethimcourtarichoneandsee-butthat’salloveranddonewith。Nomoreharpingonthatstring,andnomorereadingofpoetry。I’llnever,-”Therestwaslostinhisthroatandwasquiteunintelligibletotheanxiouslistener。Self-revealingwords,whichaninstantbeforewouldhavearousedSweetwater’sdeepestinterest!Buttheyhadsuddenlylostallforcefortheunhappylistener。Thesightofthatholestillshiningbrightlybeforehiseyeshaddistractedhisthoughtsandrousedhisliveliestapprehensions。Ifthatbookshouldbeallowedtoliewhereithadfallen,thenhewasinforaperiodofuncertaintyheshrankfromcontemplating。Anymomenthisneighbourmightlookupandcatchsightofthisholeboredinthebackingoftheshelvesbeforehim。Couldthemanwhohadbeenguiltyofsubmittinghimtothisoutragestandthestrainofwaitingindefinitelyforthemomentofdiscovery?Hedoubtedit,ifthesuspenselastedtoolong。
Shiftinghisposition,heplacedhiseyewherehisearhadbeen。
Hecouldseeverylittle。Thespacebeforehim,limitedasitwastothewidthoftheonevolumewithdrawn,precludedhisseeingaughtbutwhatlaydirectlybeforehim。Happily,itwasinthisnarrowlineofvisionthatMr。Brothersonstood。Hehadresumedworkuponhismodelandwassoplacedthatwhilehisfacewasnotvisible,hishandswere,andasSweetwaterwatchedthesehandsandnoticedthedelicacyoftheirmanipulation,hewasenoughofaworkmantorealisethatworksofinecalledforanundividedattention。Heneednotfearthegazeshifting,whilethosehandsmovedaswarilyastheydidnow。
Relievedforthemoment,helefthispostand,sittingdownontheedgeofhiscot,gavehimselfuptothought。
Hedeservedthismischance。HadheprofitedproperlybyMr。Gryce’steachings,hewouldnothavebeencaughtlikethis;hewouldhavecalculatednotupontheninehundredandninety-ninechancesofthatbookbeingleftalone,butuponthethousandthoneofitsbeingtheveryonetobesingledoutandremoved。Hadhedonethis,-hadhetakenpainstosoroughenanddiscolourtheopeninghehadmade,thatitwouldlooklikeanancientratholeinsteadofshowingacleanbore,hewouldhavesomeanswertogiveBrothersonwhenhecametoquestionhiminregardtoit。Butnowthewholethingseemedup!HehadshownhimselfafoolandbygoodrightsoughttoacknowledgehisdefeatandreturntoHeadquarters。Buthehadtoomuchspiritforthat。Hewouldrather-yes,hewouldratherfacethepistolhehadonceseeninhisenemy’shand。Yetitwashardtositherewaiting,waiting-Suddenlyhestartedupright。
Hewouldgomeethisfate-bepresentintheroomitselfwhenthediscoverywasmadewhichthreatenedtoupsetallhisplans。Hewasnotashamedofhiscalling,andBrothersonwouldthinktwicebeforeattackinghimwhenonceconvincedthathehadtheDepartmentbehindhim。”Excuseme,comrade,”werethewordswithwhichheendeavouredtoaccountforhispresenceatBrotherson’sdoor。”Mylampsmellsso,andI’vemadesuchamessofmyworkto-daythatI’vejuststeppedinforachat。IfI’mnotwanted,sayso。Idon’twanttobotheryou,butyoudolookpleasanthere。IhopethethingI’mturningoverinmyhead-everymanhashisschemesformakingafortune,youknow-willbeasuccesssomeday。I’dlikeabigroomlikethis,andalotofbooks,and-andpictures。”
Craninghisneck,hetookapeepattheshelves,withanairofopenadmirationwhicheffectuallyconcealedhisrealpurpose。Whathewantedwastocatchoneglimpseofthatemptyspacefromhispresentstandpoint,andhewasbothastonishedandrelievedtonotehownarrowandinconspicuousitlooked。Certainly,hehadlesstofearthanhesupposed,andwhen,uponMr。Brotherson’sinvitation,hesteppedintotheroom,itwaswithadashofhisformeraudacity,whichgavehim,unfortunately,perhaps,aquick,strongandunexpectedlikenesstohisoldself。
ButifBrothersonnoticedthis,nothinginhismannergaveproofofthefact。Thoughusuallyaversetovisitors,especiallywhenemployedasatpresentonhispreciousmodel,hequitewarmedtowardshisunexpectedguest,andevenledthewaytowhereitstooduncoveredonthetable。”Youfindmeatwork,”heremarked。”Idon’tsupposeyouunderstandanybutyourown?””IfyoumeantoaskifIunderstandwhatyou’retryingtodothere,I’mfreetosaythatIdon’t。Icouldn’ttellnow,off-hand,whetherit’sanair-shipyou’replanning,ahydraulicmachineor-or-Hestopped,withalaughandturnedtowardsthebook-shelves。”Nowhere’swhatIlike。Thesebooksjusttakemyeye。”Lookatthem,then。Iliketoseeamaninterestedinbooks。Only,Ithoughtifyouknewhowtohandlewire,IwouldgetyoutoholdthisendwhileIworkwiththeother。””IguessIknowenoughforthat,”wasSweetwater’sgayrejoinder。
Butwhenhefeltthatcommunicatingwireinhishandandexperiencedforthefirsttimethefullinfluenceoftheother’seye,ittookallhishardihoodtohidethehypnoticthrillitgavehim。Thoughhesmiledandchatted,hecouldnothelpaskinghimselfbetweenwhiles,whathadkilledthepoorwasherwomanacrossthecourt,andwhathadkilledMissChalloner。Somethingvisibleorsomethinginvisible?Somethingwhichgavewarningofattack,orsomethingwhichstruckinsilence。Hefoundhimselfgazinglongandearnestlyatthisman’shand,andwonderingifdeathlayunderit。Itwasastronghand,adeft,clean-cutmember,formedtorespondtotheslightesthintfromthepowerfulbraincontrollingit。Butwasthisitswholestory。Hadhesaidallwhenhehadsaidthis?
Fascinatedbythequestion,Sweetwaterdiedahundreddeathsinhisawakenedfancy,ashefollowedthesharpshortinstructionswhichfellwithcoolprecisionfromtheother’slips。Ahundreddeaths,Isay,butwithnobetrayalofhisfolly。Theanxietyheshowedwasthatofoneeagertoplease,whichmayexplainwhyontheconclusionofhistask,Mr。Brothersongavehimoneofhisinfrequentsmilesandremarked,asheburiedthemodelunderitscover,”You’rehandyandyou’requietatyourjob。WhoknowsbutthatIshallwantyouagain。WillyoucomeifIcallyou?””Won’tI?”wasthegayretort,asthedetectivethusreleased,stoopedforthebookstilllyingonthefloor。”PaoloandFrancesca,”
heread,fromtheback,ashelaiditonthetable。”Poetry?”hequeried。”Rot,”scornfullyreturnedtheother,ashemovedtotakedownabottleandsomeglassesfromacupboardletintoanotherportionofthewall。
Sweetwatertakingadvantageofthemoment,sidledtowardstheshelfwherethatemptyspacestillgapedwiththetell-taleholeattheback。HecouldeasilyhavereplacedthemissingbookbeforeMr。
Brothersonturned。Buttheissuewastoodoubtful。Hewasdealingwithnoabsent-mindedfool,anditbehoovedhimtoavoidaboveallthingscallingattentiontothebookortotheplaceontheshelfwhereitbelonged。
Buttherewasonethinghecoulddoanddid。ReachingoutafingerasdeftasBrotherson’sown,hepushedasecondvolumeintotheplaceoftheonethatwasgone。Thisveiledtheauger-holecompletely;afactwhichsoentirelyrelievedhismindthathisoldsmilecamebacklikesunshinetohislips,anditwasonlybyadistincteffortthathekeptthedancinghumourfromhiseyesashepreparedtorefusetheglasswhichBrothersonnowbroughtforward:”Noneofthat!”saidhe。”Youmustn’ttemptme。Thedoctorhasshutdownonallkindsofspiritsfortwomonthsmore,atleast。
Butdon’tletmehinderyou。Icanbeartosmellthestuff。Myturnwillcomeagainsomeday。”
ButBrothersondidnotdrink。Settingdowntheglasshecarried,hetookupthebooklyingnear,weigheditinhishandandlaiditdownagain,withanairofthoughtfulinquiry。ThenhesuddenlypushedittowardsSweetwater。”Doyouwantit?”heasked。
Sweetwaterwastootakenabacktoanswerimmediately。Thiswasamovehedidnotunderstand。Wantit,he?Whathewantedwastoseeitputbackinitsplaceontheshelf。DidBrothersonsuspectthis?Thesuppositionwasincredible;yetwhocouldreadamindsomysterious?
Sweetwater,debatingthesubject,decidedthattheriskofaddingtoanysuchpossiblesuspicionwaslesstobedreadedthanthecontinuedthreatofferedbythatunoccupiedspacesoneartheholewhichtestifiedsounmistakablyofthemeanshehadtakentospyuponthissuspectedman’sprivacy。So,afteramomentofawkwardsilence,notoutofkeepingwiththecharacterhehadassumed,hecalmlyrefusedthepresentashehadtheglass。
Unhappilyhewasnotrewardedbyseeingthedespisedvolumerestoredtoitsshelf。Itstilllaywhereitsownerhadpushedit,when,withsomeawkwardlymutteredthanks,thediscomfiteddetectivewithdrewtohisownroom。
XVIII
WHATAMITODONOW
EarlymorningsawSweetwaterpeeringintothedepthsofhiscloset。
Theholewashardlyvisible。Thismeantthatthebookhehadpushedacrossitfromtheothersidehadnotbeenremoved。
Greatlyre-assuredbythesight,heawaitedhisopportunity,andassoonasasuitableonepresenteditself,preparedtheholeforinspectionbybreakingawayitsedgesandbegrimingitwellwithplasterandolddirt。Thisdone,heleftmatterstoarrangethemselves;whichtheydid,afterthismanner。
Mr。Brothersonsuddenlydevelopedagreatneedofhim,anditbecameacommonthingforhimtospendthehalfand,sometimes,thewholeoftheeveningintheneighbouringroom。Thiswasjustwhathehadworkedfor,andhisconstantintercoursewiththemanwhosesecrethesoughttosurpriseshouldhavebornefruit。Butitdidnot。
Nothingintheeagerbutpainstakinginventorshowedadistractedmindoraheavily-burdenedsoul。Indeed,hewassocalminallhisways,sopreciseandsoself-contained,thatSweetwateroftenwonderedwhathadbecomeofthefieryagitatorandeloquentpropagandistofnewandstartlingdoctrines。
Then,hethoughtheunderstoodtheriddle。Themodelwasreachingitscompletion,andBrotherson’sextremeinterestinitandtheconfidencehehadinitssuccessswallowedtipalllesseremotions。
Weretheinventiontoproveafailure-buttherewassmallhopeofthis。Themanwasoftoowell-poisedamindtoover-estimatehisworkormiscalculateitsplaceamongmodernimprovements。Soonhewouldreachthegoalofhisdesires,bepraised,feted,mademuchofbytheverypeoplehenowprofessedlyscorned。TherewasnothoroughfareforSweetwaterhere。Anotherroadmustbefound;somesecret,strangeandunforeseenmethodofreachingasoulinaccessibletoallordinaryorevenextraordinaryimpressions。
Wouldanightofthoughtrevealsuchamethod?Night!theverywordbroughtinspiration。Amanisnothisfullselfatnight。
Secretswhich,undertheordinarycircumstancesofeverydaylife,lietoodeepforsurprise,creepfromtheirhiding-placesinthedismalhoursofuniversalquiet,andlipswhicharedumbtothemostsubtleofquestionersbreakintostrangeandself-revealingmutteringswhensleepliesheavyonearandeyeandtheforcesoflifeanddeatharereleasedtoplaywiththerudderlessspirit。
ItwasindifferentwordsfromthesethatSweetwaterreasoned,nodoubt,buthisconclusionswerethesame,andashecontinuedtobroodoverthem,hesawachance-afool’schance,possibly,butfoolssometimeswinwherewisemenfailofreachingthosedepthshestillbelievedin,notwithstandinghisfailuretosoundthem。
AddressingalettertohisfriendinTwenty-ninthStreet,heawaitedreplyintheshapeofasmallpackagehehadorderedsenttothecornerdrug-store。Whenitcame,hecarriedithomeinastateofmingledhopeandmisgiving。Washeabouttocaphisfortnightofdisappointmentbyanothersignalfailure;endthematterbydisclosinghishand;loseall,orwinallbyanexperimentasdaringandpossiblyasfancifulaswerehiscontinuedsuspicionsofthisseeminglyuprightandundoubtedlybusyman?
Hemadenoattempttoarguethequestion。Theeventcalledfortheexerciseofthemostdoggedelementsinhischaracteranduponthesehemustrely。Hewouldmaketheefforthecontemplated,simplybecausehewasmindedtodoso。Thatwasalltherewastoit。Butanyonenotinghimwellthatnight,wouldhaveseenthatheatelittleandconsultedhiswatchcontinually。Sweetwaterhadnotyetpassedthelinewhereworkbecomesroutineandthefeelingsremaintotallyundercontrol。
第24章