pgw.piccadillyjim-第33部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Her　face　was　not　only　shrewd　and　determined：　it　was　menacing。　She　had　thick　eyebrows；　from　beneath　which　small；　glittering　eyes　looked　out　like　dangerous　beasts　in　undergrowth：　and　the　impressive　effect　of　these　was　accentuated　by　the　fact　that；　while　the　left　eye　looked　straight　out　at　its　object；　the　right　eye　had　a　sort　of　roving　mission　and　was　now；　while　its　colleague　fixed　Mrs。　Pett　with　a　gimlet　stare；　examining　the　ceiling。　As　to　the　rest　of　the　appearance　of　this　remarkable　woman；　her　nose　was　stubby　and　aggressive；　and　her　mouth　had　the　coldly　forbidding　look　of　the　closed　door　of　a　subway　express　when　you　have　just　missed　the　train。　It　bade　you　keep　your　distance　on　pain　of　injury。　Mrs。　Pett；　though　herself　a　strong　woman；　was　conscious　of　a　curious　weakness　as　she　looked　at　a　female　of　the　species　so　much　deadlier　than　any　male　whom　she　had　ever　encountered：　and　came　near　feeling　a　half…pity　for　the　unhappy　wretches　on　whom　this　dynamic　maiden　was　to　be　unleashed。　She　hardly　knew　how　to　open　the　conversation。
　Miss　Trimble；　however；　was　equal　to　the　occasion。　She　always　preferred　to　open　conversations　herself。　Her　lips　parted；　and　words　flew　out　as　if　shot　from　a　machine…gun。　As　far　as　Mrs。　Pett　could　observe；　she　considered　it　unnecessary　to　part　her　teeth；　preferring　to　speak　with　them　clenched。　This　gave　an　additional　touch　of　menace　to　her　speech。
　〃Dafternoon；〃　said　Miss　Trimble；　and　Mrs。　Pett　backed　convulsively　into　the　padded　recesses　of　her　chair；　feeling　as　if　somebody　had　thrown　a　brick　at　her。
　〃Good　afternoon；〃　she　said　faintly。
　〃Gladda　meecher；　siz　Pett。　Mr。　Sturge　semme　up。　Said　y'ad　job　f'r　me。　Came　here　squick　scould。〃
　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃Squick　scould。　Got　slow　taxi。〃
　〃Oh；　yes。〃
　Miss　Trimble's　right　eye　flashed　about　the　room　like　a　searchlight；　but　she　kept　the　other　hypnotically　on　her　panion's　face。
　〃Whass　trouble？〃　The　right　eye　rested　for　a　moment　on　a　magnificent　Corot　over　the　mantelpiece；　and　she　sniffed　again。　〃Not　s'prised　y'have　trouble。　All　rich　people　've　trouble。　Noth'　t'do　with　their　time　'cept　get　'nto　trouble。〃
　She　frowned　disapprovingly　at　a　Canaletto。
　〃Youahappear　to　dislike　the　rich；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett；　as　nearly　in　her　grand　manner　as　she　could　contrive。
　Miss　Trimble　bowled　over　the　grand　manner　as　if　it　had　been　a　small　fowl　and　she　an　automobile。　She　rolled　over　it　and　squashed　it　flat。
　〃Hate　'em！　Sogelist！〃
　〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett　humbly。　This　woman　was　beginning　to　oppress　her　to　an　almost　unbelievable　extent。
　〃Sogelist！　No　use　f'r　idle　rich。　Ev'　read　B'nard　Shaw？　Huh？　Or　Upton　Sinclair？　Uh？　Read'm。　Make　y'think　a　bit。　Well；　y'haven't　told　me　whasser　trouble。〃
　Mrs。　Pett　was　by　this　time　heartily　regretting　the　impulse　which　had　caused　her　to　telephone　to　Mr。　Sturgis。　In　a　career　which　had　had　more　than　its　share　of　detectives；　both　real　and　fictitious；　she　had　never　been　confronted　with　a　detective　like　this。　The　galling　thing　was　that　she　was　helpless。　After　all；　one　engaged　a　detective　for　his　or　her　shrewdness　and　efficiency；　not　for　suavity　and　polish。　A　detective　who　hurls　speech　at　you　through　clenched　teeth　and　yet　detects　is　better　value　for　the　money　than　one　who；　though　an　ideal　panion　for　the　drawing…room；　is　inpetent：　and　Mrs。　Pett；　like　most　other　people；　subconsciously　held　the　view　that　the　ruder　a　person　is　the　more　efficient　he　must　be。　It　is　but　rarely　that　any　one　is　found　who　is　not　dazzled　by　the　glamour　of　incivility。　She　crushed　down　her　resentment　at　her　visitor's　tone；　and　tried　to　concentrate　her　mind　on　the　fact　that　this　was　a　business　matter　and　that　what　she　wanted　was　results　rather　than　fair　words。　She　found　it　easier　to　do　this　when　looking　at　the　other's　face。　It　was　a　capable　face。　Not　beautiful；　perhaps；　but　full　of　promise　of　action。　Miss　Trimble　having　ceased　temporarily　to　speak；　her　mouth　was　in　repose；　and　when　her　mouth　was　in　repose　it　looked　more　efficient　than　anything　else　of　its　size　in　existence。
　〃I　want　you；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett；　〃to　e　here　and　watch　some　men〃
　〃Men！　Thought　so！　Wh'　there's　trouble；　always　men't　bottom'f　it！〃
　〃You　do　not　like　men？〃
　〃Hate　'em！　Suff…gist！〃　She　looked　penetratingly　at　Mrs。　Pett。　Her　left　eye　seemed　to　pounce　out　from　under　its　tangled　brow。　〃You　S'porter　of　th'　Cause？〃
　Mrs。　Pett　was　an　anti…Suffragist；　but；　though　she　held　strong　opinions；　nothing　would　have　induced　her　to　air　them　at　that　moment。　Her　whole　being　quailed　at　the　prospect　of　arguing　with　this　woman。　She　returned　hurriedly　to　the　main　theme。
　〃A　young　man　arrived　here　this　morning；　pretending　to　be　my　nephew；　James　Crocker。　He　is　an　impostor。　I　want　you　to　watch　him　very　carefully。〃
　〃Whassiz　game？〃
　〃I　do　not　know。　Personally　I　think　he　is　here　to　kidnap　my　son　Ogden。〃
　〃I'll　fix'm；〃　said　the　fair　Trimble　confidently。　〃Say；　that　butler　'f　yours。　He's　a　crook！〃
　Mrs。　Pett　opened　her　eyes。　This　woman　was　manifestly　petent　at　her　work。
　〃Have　you　found　that　out　already？〃
　〃D'rectly　saw　him。〃　Miss　Trimble　opened　her　purse。〃　Go'　one　'f　his　photographs　here。　Brought　it　from　office。　He's　th'　man　that's　wanted　'll　right。〃
　〃Mr。　Sturgis　and　I　both　think　he　is　working　with　the　other　man；　the　one　who　pretends　to　be　my　nephew。〃
　〃Sure。　I'll　fix　'm。〃
　She　returned　the　photograph　to　her　purse　and　snapped　the　catch　with　vicious　emphasis。
　〃There　is　another　possibility；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett。　〃My　nephew；　Mr。　William　Partridge；　had　invented　a　wonderful　explosive；　and　it　is　quite　likely　that　these　men　are　here　to　try　to　steal　it。〃
　〃Sure。　Men'll　do　anything。　If　y'　put　all　the　men　in　th'　world　in　th'　cooler；　wouldn't　be　'ny　more　crime。〃
　She　glowered　at　the　dog　Aida；　who　had　risen　from　the　basket　and　removing　the　last　remains　of　sleep　from　her　system　by　a　series　of　calisthenics　of　her　own　invention；　as　if　she　suspected　her　of　masculinity。　Mrs。　Pett　could　not　help　wondering　what　tragedy　in　the　dim　past　had　caused　this　hatred　of　males　on　the　part　of　her　visitor。　Miss　Trimble　had　not　the　appearance　of　one　who　would　lightly　be　deceived　by　Man；　still　less　the　appearance　of　one　whom　Man；　unless　short…sighted　and　extraordinarily　susceptible；　would　go　out　of　his　way　to　deceive。　She　was　still　turning　this　mystery　over　in　her　mind；　when　her　visitor　spoke。
　〃Well；　gimme　th'　rest　of　th'　dope；〃　said　Miss　Trimble。
　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃More　facts。　Spill　'm！〃
　〃Oh；　I　understand；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett　hastily；　and　embarked　on　a　brief　narrative　of　the　suspicious　circumstances　which　had　caused　her　to　desire　skilled　assistance。
　〃Lor'　W'sbeach？〃　said　Miss　Trimble；　breaking　the　story。　〃Who's　he？〃
　〃A　very　great　friend　of　ours。〃
　〃You　vouch　f'r　him　pers'n'lly？　He's　all　right；　uh？　Not　a　crook；　huh？〃
　〃Of　course　he　is　not！〃　said　Mrs。　Pett　indignantly。　〃He's　a　great　friend　of　mine。〃
　〃All　right。　Well；　I　guess　thass　'bout　all；　huh？　I'll　be　going　downstairs　'an　starting　in。〃
　〃You　can　e　here　immediately？〃
　〃Sure。　Got　parlour…maid　rig　round　at　m'　boarding…house　round　corner。　e　back　with　it　'n　ten　minutes。　Same　dress　I　used　when　I　w's　working　on　th'　Marling　D'vorce　case。　D'jer　know　th'　Marlings？　Idle　rich！　Bound　t'　get　'nto　trouble。　I　fixed　'm。　Well；　g'bye。　Mus'　be　going。　No　time　t'　waste。〃　　Mrs。　Pett　leaned　back　faintly　in　her　chair。　She　felt　overe。
　Downstairs；　on　her　way　out；　Miss　Trimble　had　paused　in　the　hall　to　inspect　a　fine　statue　which　stood　at　the　foot　of　the　stairs。　It　was　a　noble　work　of　art；　but　it　seemed　to　displease　her。　She　snorted。
　〃Idle　rich！〃　she　muttered　scornfully。　〃Brrh！〃
　The　portly　form　of　Mr。　Crocker　loomed　up　from　the　direction　of　the　back　stairs。　She　fixed　her　left　eye　on　him　piercingly。　Mr。　Crocker　met　it；　and　quailed。　He　had　that　consciousness　of　guilt　which　philosophers　tell　is　the　worst　drawback　to　crime。　Why　this　woman's　gaze　should　disturb　him　so　thoroughly；　he　could　not　have　said。　She　was　a　perfect　stranger　to　him。　She　could　know　nothing　about　him。　Yet　he　quailed。
　〃Say；〃　said　Miss　Trimble。　〃I'm　c'ming　here　's　parlour…maid。〃
　〃Oh；　ah？〃　said　Mr。　Crocker；　feebly。
　〃Grrrh！〃　observed　Miss　Trimble；　and　departed。
　
　CHAPTER　XVIII
　THE　VOICE　PROM　THE　PAST
　
　THE　library；　whither　Jimmy　had　made　his　way　after　leaving　Mrs。　Pett；　was　a　large　room　on　the　ground　floor；　looking　out　on　the　street　which　ran　parallel　to　the　south　side　of　the　house。　It　had　French　windows；　opening　onto　a　strip　of　lawn　which　ended　in　a　high　stone　wall　with　a　small　gate　in　it；　the　general　effect　of　these　things　being　to　create　a　resemblance　to　a　country　house　rather　than　to　one　in　the　centre　of　the　city。　Mr。　Pett's　town　residence　was　full　of　these　surprises。
　In　one　corner　of　the　room　a　massive　safe　had　been　let　into　the　wall；　striking　a　note　of　incongruity；　for　the　remainder　of　the　wall…space　was　pletely　covered　with　volumes　of　all　sorts　and　sizes；　which　filled　the　shelves　and　overflowed　into　a　small　gallery；　reached　by　a　short　flight　of　stairs　and　running　along　the　north　side　of　the　room　over　the　door。
　Jimmy　cast　a　glance　at　the　safe；　behind　the　steel　doors　of　which　he　presumed　the　test…tube　of　Partridgite　which　Willie　had　carried　from　the　luncheon…table　lay　hid：　then　transferred　his　attention　to　the　shelves。　A　cursory　inspection　of　these　revealed　nothing　which　gave　promise　of　whiling　away　entertainingly　the　moments　which　must　elapse　before　the　return　of　Ann。　Jimmy's　tastes　in　literature　lay　in　the　direction　of　the　lighter　kind　of　modern　fiction；　and　Mr。　Pett　did　not　appear　to　possess　a　single　volume　that　had　been　written　later　than　the　eighteenth　centuryand　mostly　poetry　at　that。　He　turned　to　the　writing…desk　near　the　window；　on　which　he　had　caught　sight　of　a　standing　shelf　full　of　books　of　a　more　modern　aspect。　He　picked　one　up　at　random　and　opened　it。
　He　threw　it　down　disgustedly。　It　was　poetry。　This　man　Pett　appeared　to　have　a　perfect　obsession　for　poetry。　One　would　never　have　suspected　it；　to　look　at　him。　Jimmy　had　just　resigned　himself；　after　another　glance　at　the　shelf；　to　a　bookless　vigil；　when　his　eye　was　caught　by　a　name　on　the　cover　of　the　last　in　the　row　so　unexpected　that　he　had　to　look　again　to　verify　the　discovery。
　He　had　been　perfectly　right。　There　it　was；　in　gold　letters。
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　THE　LONELY　HEART
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　BY