the club of queer trades-第8部分

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ht；　at　which　Mr　Wimpole　will　be　in　all　his　glory。　Well；　there　is　nothing　very　extraordinary　about　that。　The　extraordinary　thing　is　that　we　are　not　going。〃

〃Well；　really；〃　I　said；　〃it　is　already　six　o'clock　and　I　doubt　if　we　could　get　home　and　dress。　I　see　nothing　extraordinary　in　the　fact　that　we　are　not　going。〃

〃Don't　you？〃　said　Grant。　〃I'll　bet　you'll　see　something　extraordinary　in　what　we're　doing　instead。〃

I　looked　at　him　blankly。

〃Doing　instead？〃　I　asked。　〃What　are　we　doing　instead？〃

〃Why；〃　said　he；　〃we　are　waiting　for　one　or　two　hours　outside　this　house　on　a　winter　evening。　You　must　forgive　me；　it　is　all　my　vanity。　It　is　only　to　show　you　that　I　am　right。　Can　you；　with　the　assistance　of　this　cigar；　wait　until　both　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh　and　the　mystic　Wimpole　have　left　this　house？〃

〃Certainly；〃　I　said。　〃But　I　do　not　know　which　is　likely　to　leave　first。　Have　you　any　notion？〃

〃No；〃　he　said。　〃Sir　Walter　may　leave　first　in　a　glow　of　rage。　Or　again；　Mr　Wimpole　may　leave　first；　feeling　that　his　last　epigram　is　a　thing　to　be　flung　behind　him　like　a　firework。　And　Sir　Walter　may　remain　some　time　to　analyse　Mr　Wimpole's　character。　But　they　will　both　have　to　leave　within　reasonable　time；　for　they　will　both　have　to　get　dressed　and　come　back　to　dinner　here　tonight。〃

As　he　spoke　the　shrill　double　whistle　from　the　porch　of　the　great　house　drew　a　dark　cab　to　the　dark　portal。　And　then　a　thing　happened　that　we　really　had　not　expected。　Mr　Wimpole　and　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh　came　out　at　the　same　moment。

They　paused　for　a　second　or　two　opposite　each　other　in　a　natural　doubt；　then　a　certain　geniality；　fundamental　perhaps　in　both　of　them；　made　Sir　Walter　smile　and　say：　〃The　night　is　foggy。　Pray　take　my　cab。〃

Before　I　could　count　twenty　the　cab　had　gone　rattling　up　the　street　with　both　of　them。　And　before　I　could　count　twenty…three　Grant　had　hissed　in　my　ear：

〃Run　after　the　cab；　run　as　if　you　were　running　from　a　mad　dog　run。〃

We　pelted　on　steadily；　keeping　the　cab　in　sight；　through　dark　mazy　streets。　God　only；　I　thought；　knows　why　we　are　running　at　all；　but　we　are　running　hard。　Fortunately　we　did　not　run　far。　The　cab　pulled　up　at　the　fork　of　two　streets　and　Sir　Walter　paid　the　cabman；　who　drove　away　rejoicing；　having　just　come　in　contact　with　the　more　generous　among　the　rich。　Then　the　two　men　talked　together　as　men　do　talk　together　after　giving　and　receiving　great　insults；　the　talk　which　leads　either　to　forgiveness　or　a　duelat　least　so　it　seemed　as　we　watched　it　from　ten　yards　off。　Then　the　two　men　shook　hands　heartily；　and　one　went　down　one　fork　of　the　road　and　one　down　another。

Basil；　with　one　of　his　rare　gestures；　flung　his　arms　forward。

〃Run　after　that　scoundrel；〃　he　cried；　〃let　us　catch　him　now。〃

We　dashed　across　the　open　space　and　reached　the　juncture　of　two　paths。

〃Stop！〃　I　shouted　wildly　to　Grant。　〃That's　the　wrong　turning。〃

He　ran　on。

〃Idiot！〃　I　howled。　〃Sir　Walter's　gone　down　there。　Wimpole　has　slipped　us。　He's　half　a　mile　down　the　other　road。　You're　wrong　。　。　。　Are　you　deaf？　You're　wrong！〃

〃I　don't　think　I　am；〃　he　panted；　and　ran　on。

〃But　I　saw　him！〃　I　cried。　〃Look　in　front　of　you。　Is　that　Wimpole？　It's　the　old　man　。　。　。　What　are　you　doing？　What　are　we　to　do？〃

〃Keep　running；〃　said　Grant。

Running　soon　brought　us　up　to　the　broad　back　of　the　pompous　old　baronet；　whose　white　whiskers　shone　silver　in　the　fitful　lamplight。　My　brain　was　utterly　bewildered。　I　grasped　nothing。

〃Charlie；〃　said　Basil　hoarsely；　〃can　you　believe　in　my　common　sense　for　four　minutes？〃

〃Of　course；〃　I　said；　panting。

〃Then　help　me　to　catch　that　man　in　front　and　hold　him　down。　Do　it　at　once　when　I　say　‘Now'。　Now！〃

We　sprang　on　Sir　Walter　Cholmondeliegh；　and　rolled　that　portly　old　gentleman　on　his　back。　He　fought　with　a　commendable　valour；　but　we　got　him　tight。　I　had　not　the　remotest　notion　why。　He　had　a　splendid　and　full…blooded　vigour；　when　he　could　not　box　he　kicked；　and　we　bound　him；　when　he　could　not　kick　he　shouted；　and　we　gagged　him。　Then；　by　Basil's　arrangement；　we　dragged　him　into　a　small　court　by　the　street　side　and　waited。　As　I　say；　I　had　no　notion　why。

〃I　am　sorry　to　incommode　you；〃　said　Basil　calmly　out　of　the　darkness；　〃but　I　have　made　an　appointment　here。〃

〃An　appointment！〃　I　said　blankly。

〃Yes；〃　he　said；　glancing　calmly　at　the　apoplectic　old　aristocrat　　gagged　on　the　ground；　whose　eyes　were　starting　impotently　from　his　head。　　〃I　have　made　an　appointment　here　with　a　thoroughly　nice　young　fellow。　　An　old　friend。　Jasper　Drummond　his　name　isyou　may　have　met　him　this　　afternoon　at　the　Beaumonts。　He　can　scarcely　come　though　till　the　　Beaumonts'　dinner　is　over。〃

For　I　do　not　know　how　many　hours　we　stood　there　calmly　in　the　darkness。　　By　the　time　those　hours　were　over　I　had　thoroughly　made　up　my　mind　　that　the　same　thing　had　happened　which　had　happened　long　ago　on　the　　bench　of　a　British　Court　of　Justice。　Basil　Grant　had　gone　mad。　I　could　　imagine　no　other　explanation　of　the　facts；　with　the　portly；　purple…faced　　old　country　gentleman　flung　there　strangled　on　the　floor　like　a　bundle　　of　wood。

After　about　four　hours　a　lean　figure　in　evening　dress　rushed　into　the　court。　A　glimpse　of　gaslight　showed　the　red　moustache　and　white　face　of　Jasper　Drummond。

〃Mr　Grant；〃　he　said　blankly；　〃the　thing　is　incredible。　You　were　right；　but　what　did　you　mean？　All　through　this　dinner…party；　where　dukes　and　duchesses　and　editors　of　Quarterlies　had　come　especially　to　hear　him；　that　extraordinary　Wimpole　kept　perfectly　silent。　He　didn't　say　a　funny　thing。　He　didn't　say　anything　at　all。　What　does　it　mean？〃

Grant　pointed　to　the　portly　old　gentleman　on　the　ground。

〃That　is　what　it　means；〃　he　said。

Drummond；　on　observing　a　fat　gentleman　lying　so　calmly　about　the　place；　jumped　back；　as　from　a　mouse。

〃What？〃　he　said　weakly；　〃。　。　。　what？〃

Basil　bent　suddenly　down　and　tore　a　paper　out　of　Sir　Walter's　breastpocket；　a　paper　which　the　baronet；　even　in　his　hampered　state；　seemed　to　make　some　effort　to　retain。

It　was　a　large　loose　piece　of　white　wrapping　paper；　which　Mr　Jasper　Drummond　read　with　a　vacant　eye　and　undisguised　astonishment。　As　far　as　he　could　make　out；　it　consisted　of　a　series　of　questions　and　answers；　or　at　least　of　remarks　and　replies；　arranged　in　the　manner　of　a　catechism。　The　greater　part　of　the　document　had　been　torn　and　obliterated　in　the　struggle；　but　the　termination　remained。　It　ran　as　follows：

C。　Says　。　。　。　Keep　countenance。

W。　Keep　。　。　。　British　Museum。

C。　Know　whom　talk　。　。　。　absurdities。

W。　Never　talk　absurdities　without

〃What　is　it？〃　cried　Drummond；　flinging　the　paper　down　in　a　sort　of　final　fury。

〃What　is　it？〃　replied　Grant；　his　voice　rising　into　a　kind　of　splendid　chant。　〃What　is　it？　It　is　a　great　new　profession。　A　great　new　trade。　A　trifle　immoral；　I　admit；　but　still　great；　like　piracy。〃

〃A　new　profession！〃　said　the　young　man　with　the　red　moustache　vaguely；　〃a　new　trade！〃

〃A　new　trade；〃　repeated　Grant；　with　a　strange　exultation；　〃a　new　profession！　What　a　pity　it　is　immoral。〃

〃But　what　the　deuce　is　it？〃　cried　Drummond　and　I　in　a　breath　of　blasphemy。

〃It　is；〃　said　Grant　calmly；　〃the　great　new　trade　of　the　Organizer　of　Repartee。　This　fat　old　gentleman　lying　on　the　ground　strikes　you；　as　I　have　no　doubt；　as　very　stupid　and　very　rich。　Let　me　clear　his　character。　He　is；　like　ourselves；　very　clever　and　very　poor。　He　is　also　not　really　at　all　fat；　all　that　is　stuffing。　He　is　not　particularly　old；　and　his　name　is　not　Cholmondeliegh。　He　is　a　swindler；　and　a　swindler　of　a　perfectly　delightful　and　novel　kind。　He　hires　himself　out　at　dinner…parties　to　lead　up　to　other　people's　repartees。　According　to　a　preconcerted　scheme　（which　you　may　find　on　that　piece　of　paper）；　he　says　the　stupid　things　he　has　arranged　for　himself；　and　his　client　says　the　clever　things　arranged　for　him。　In　short；　he　allows　himself　to　be　scored　off　for　a　guinea　a　night。〃

〃And　this　fellow　Wimpole〃　began　Drummond　with　indignation。

〃This　fellow　Wimpole；〃　said　Basil　Grant；　smiling；　〃will　not　be　an　intellectual　rival　in　the　future。　He　had　some　fine　things；　elegance　and　silvered　hair；　and　so　on。　But　the　intellect　is　with　our　friend　on　the　floor。〃

〃That　fellow；〃　cried　Drummond　furiously；　〃that　fellow　ought　to　be　in　gaol。〃

〃Not　at　all；〃　said　Basil　indulgently；　〃he　ought　to　be　in　the　Club　of　Queer　Trades。〃



Chapter　3

The　Awful　Reason　of　the　Vicar's　Visit

The　revolt　of　Matter　against　Man　（which　I　believe　to　exist）　has　now　been　reduced　to　a　singular　condition。　It　is　the　small　things　rather　than　the　large　things　which　make　war　against　us　and；　I　may　add；　beat　us。　The　bones　of　the　last　mammoth　have　long　ago　decayed；　a　mighty　wreck；　the　tempests　no　longer　devour　our　navies；　nor　the　mountains　with　hearts　of　fire　heap　hell　over　our　cities。　But　we　are　engaged　in　a　bitter　and　eternal　war　with　small　things；　chiefly　with　microbes　and　with　collar　studs。　The　stud　with　which　I　was　engaged　（on　fierce　and　equal　terms）　as　I　made　the　above　reflections；　was　one　which　I　was　trying　to　introduce　into　my　shirt　collar　when　a　loud　knock　came　at　the　door。

My　first　thought　was　as　to　whether　Basil　Grant　had　called　to　fetch　me。　He　and　I　were　to　turn　up　at　the　same　dinner…party　（for　which　I　was　in　the　act　of　dressing）；　and　it　might　be　that　he　had　taken　it　into　his　head　to　come　my　way；　though　we　had　arranged　to　go　separately。　It　was　a　small　and　confidential　affair　at　the　table　of　a　good　but　unconventional　political　lady；　an　old　friend　of　his。　She　had　asked　us　both　to　meet　a　third　guest；　a　Captain　Fraser；　who　had　made　something　of　a　name　and　was　an　authority　on　chimpanzees。　As　Basil　was　an　old　friend　of　the　hostess　and　I　had　never　seen　her；　I　felt　that　it　was　quite　possible　that　he　（with　his　usual　social　sagacity）　might　have　decided　to　take　me　along　in　order　to　break　the　ice。　The　theory；　like　all　my　theories；　was　complete；　but　as　a　fact　it　was　not　Basil。

I　was　handed　a　visiting　card　inscribed：　〃Rev。　Ellis　Shorter〃；　and　underneath　was　written　in　pencil；　but　in　a　hand　in　which　even　hurry　could　not　conceal　a　depressing　and　gentlemanly　excellence；　〃Asking　the　favour　of　a　few　moments'　conversation　on　a　most　urgent　matter。〃！

I　had　already　subdued　the　stud；　thereby　proclaiming　that　the　image　of　Go