p&c.brimstone-第90部分

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nium　ago。　The　air　was　bad　here；　and　Fosco's　torch　guttered　as　he　threaded　his　plex　path。　
　As　he　penetrated　deeper　into　the　maze；　the　ancient　walls　grew　more　uneven。　He　passed　several　places　where　they　had　fallen　away　from　the　rock；　leaving　heaps　of　scattered　bricks。　Skeletons　lay　in　thick　profusion；　as　if　dumped　and　abandoned　where　they　lay；　the　bones　chewed　and　scattered　by　rats。　
　The　vault　finally　ended　in　a　cul…de…sac。　The　darkness　here　was　so　thick；　so　plete；　that　Fosco's　torch　barely　penetrated。　He　took　another　step　forward；　waved　the　torch　in　a　cautious　arc　into　the　last　recess　ahead　of　him。　
　The　guttering　flame　revealed　the　figure　of　Agent　Pendergast；　head　lolled　forward　onto　his　chest。　His　face　was　scratched　and　bleeding　in　a　dozen　places。　His　normally　immaculate　black　suit　was　shredded　and　dirty；　the　jacket　lying　in　a　heap　at　his　feet。　His　hand…tailored　English　shoes　were　covered　in　thick　Tuscan　mud。　He　appeared　unconscious　and　would　have　sunk　to　the　ground　before　Fosco　if　not　for　the　heavy　chain　bound　tightly　across　his　chest。　This　was　fixed　to　an　iron　staple　set　into　the　limestone　wall；　and　was　padlocked　to　a　second　iron　staple　on　Pendergast's　far　side。　His　wrists　hung　limply　at　his　sides；　secured　by　additional　lengths　of　chain　fixed　to　the　rear　wall　of　the　niche。　
　Fosco's　first　sweep　of　the　torch　had　been　a　careful　one。　He　had　learned；　even　now；　not　to　underestimate　his　opponent。　But　Pendergast　was　clearly　immobilized；　helpless。　Emboldened；　the　count　brought　the　torch　forward　again。　
　As　the　light　of　the　torch　crossed　his　face；　Pendergast　stirred。　His　eyes　fluttered　open。　
　Instantly；　Fosco　stepped　back。　〃Agent　Pendergast？〃　he　crooned。　〃Aloysius？　Are　we　awake？〃　
　Pendergast　did　not　answer；　but　his　eyes　remained　open。　He　moved　his　limbs　weakly；　flexed　his　manacled　hands。　
　〃Please　forgive　me；　but　I'm　afraid　the　restraints　are　necessary。　As　you　shall　soon　understand。〃　
　When　there　was　no　response；　the　count　continued。　〃You　no　doubt　feel　weak；　barely　able　to　stir。　And　you　may　be　experiencing　a　certain　degree　of　amnesia。　Phenobarbital　does　have　that　effect　at　times：　it　seemed　the　easiest　way　to　return　you　to　the　castle　without　undue　exertions。　So　allow　me　to　refresh　your　memory。　You　and　the　good　sergeant　D'Agosta　grew　tired　of　my　hospitality　and　desired　to　leave。　I；　naturally；　took　objection。　There　was　a　nasty　struggle；　I'm　afraid；　in　which　my　beloved　Pinketts　perished。　You　had　deposited　some　paperwork　I　was　obliged　to　reclaim。　Then　came　your　escape　attempt。　Sergeant　D'Agosta　made　good　his　escape；　I　fear。　But　the　important　thing　is　thatyou're　back；　my　dear　Agent　Pendergast：　back　safely　again　in　the　bosom　of　Castel　Fosco！　And　I　insist　you　remain　here；　as　my　guest。　No；　really…I'll　hear　no　objection。〃　
　Fosco　placed　the　torch　carefully　into　an　iron　wall　mounting。　〃I　beg　your　pardon　for　the　scant　acmodation。　Still；　these　chambers　are　not　without　their　natural　charm。　You'll　notice　the　white　webwork　that　gleams　from　the　cavern　walls？　It's　nitre；　my　dear　Pendergast…you　of　all　people　should　appreciate　the　literary　allusion。　And　thus　understand　what　is　to　follow。〃　
　And　to　underscore　this；　the　count　slipped　his　hand　into　his　waistcoat　and　slowly　withdrew　a　trowel。　
　Staring　at　it；　Pendergast's　dull；　drug…heavy　eyes　gleamed　briefly。　
　〃Aha！〃　the　count　cried；　pleased。　〃It　isnot　lost　on　you！　Let　us　then　proceed　with　all　haste。〃　And　turning　to　one　side；　he　swept　away　a　heap　of　tumbled　bones；　revealing　a　large　quantity　of　freshly　slaked　mortar。　
　Using　the　trowel；　he　laid　a　thick　line　of　mortar　along　the　front　lip　of　the　recess。　Then　he　moved　to　one　of　the　piles　of　collapsed　brick　and；　two　at　a　time；　brought　the　bricks　back　to　the　niche；　laying　them　carefully　in　a　line　atop　the　mortar。　Within　a　few　minutes；　the　first　course　of　bricks　was　in　place　and　Fosco　was　troweling　another　layer　of　mortar　along　its　top。　
　〃How　wonderful　these　bricks　are！〃　he　said　as　he　worked。　〃They　are　many　centuries　old；　made　from　the　very　clay　of　the　hillside。　See　how　massive：　none　of　your　trifling　English　bricks　for　Fosco！　I've　called　for　a　great　deal　of　lime　in　the　mortar…nearly　two　parts　lime　to　each　part　sand…but　then　I　want　your　final　habitation　to　be　as　strong　as　possible。　I　want　it　to　last　through　the　ages；　my　dear　Pendergast。　I　want　it　to　last　until　the　final　trump　is　sounded！〃　
　Pendergast　said　nothing。　But　his　drug…clouded　eyes　had　cleared。　They　watched　Fosco　work　with　an　almost　feline　stoicism…if；　Fosco　reflected；　stoicism　was　the　correct　word。　Finishing　the　second　course　of　bricks；　he　paused　to　return　the　gaze。　
　〃I've　been　preparing　this　for　some　time；〃　he　said。　〃Quite　some　time；　in　fact。　You　see；　ever　since　our　first　meeting…at　the　memorial　service　for　Jeremy　Grove；　when　we　had　our　little　disagreement　over　the　Ghirlandaio　panel…I　realized　you　were　the　most　formidable　opponent　I　had　ever　faced。〃　
　He　paused；　waiting。　But　still　Pendergast　said　nothing；　did　not　move　except　to　blink　his　eyelids。　And　so　Fosco　returned　to　his　work　and…with　the　energy　of　a　sudden　surge　of　anger…laid　the　third；　fourth；　and　fifth　course　of　bricks。　
　When　he　laid　the　last　brick　of　the　sixth　course　in　place；　he　paused　once　more。　The　brief　anger　had　passed　and　he　was　again　himself。　The　wall　reached　now　to　Pendergast's　waist。　Throwing　back　the　tails　of　his　coat；　Fosco　perched　daintily　on　the　old　pile　of　bricks　to　rest。　His　gaze　fell　almost　kindly　on　the　prisoner。　
　〃You'll　note　I'm　laying　the　bricks　in　Flemish　bond；　alternating　the　headers　with　the　stretchers；〃　he　said。　〃Beautiful；　is　it　not？　I　could　have　been　a　mason；　perhaps；　had　I　so　chosen。　Of　course；　building　such　a　wall　is　time…consuming。　Consider　it　my　final　gift。　Myparting　gift。　You　see；　once　the　last　brick　is　in　place；　it　will　not　take　long…perhaps　a　day；　perhaps　two；　depending　on　how　much　air　seeps　through　these　ancient　walls。　I　am　no　sadist。　Your　death　will　not　be　unduly　prolonged…though　I　imagine　slow　suffocation　in　the　dark　might　not　be　quite　as　merciful　as　one　would　hope。　It　cannot　be　helped。〃　
　He　sat　for　a　moment；　catching　his　breath。　Then　he　went　on；　his　voice　now　almost　meditative。　
　〃Do　not　think；　Signor　Pendergast；　I　take　this　responsibility　lightly。　I　realize　that　by　entombing　you　here；　I　rob　the　world　of　a　great　intellect。　It　will　be　a　duller　place　without　you。　However；　it　will　also　be　safer；　for　me　and　those　like　me：　men　and　women　who　would　prefer　to　pursue　their　destinies　unfettered　by　laws　devised　by　their　inferiors。〃　
　He　glanced　into　the　recess。　With　the　wall　half　plete；　the　niche　lay　in　deepest　shadow。　Only　the　gaunt　lines　of　Pendergast's　bloodied　face　reflected　in　the　torchlight。　
　The　count　looked　at　him　quizzically。　〃Still　nothing？　Very　well：　let　us　continue。〃　And　he　pulled　himself　to　his　feet。　
　The　next　three　tiers　were　laid　in　silence。　Finally；　as　Fosco　put　the　last　brick　of　the　ninth　course　in　position　and　smoothed　fresh　mortar　across　its　top；　Pendergast　spoke。　The　wall　had　reached　the　level　of　his　pale　eyes；　and　his　voice　echoed　hollowly　inside　the　new…made　vault。　
　〃You　must　not　do　this；〃　he　said。　His　voice　had　none　of　its　usual　creamy；　almost　lazy　precision。　
　This；　Fosco　knew；　was　a　side　effect　of　the　phenobarbital。　〃But　my　dear　Pendergast；　it　is　done！〃　He　troweled　off　the　mortar　and　returned　to　the　brick　pile。　
　The　tenth　course　was　half　laid　before　Pendergast　spoke　once　more。　〃There　is　something　I　must　do。　Something　unfinished；　of　great　importance　to　the　world。　A　member　of　my　family　is　in　a　position　to　do　great　harm。　I　must　be　allowed　to　stop　him。〃　
　Fosco　halted；　listening。　
　〃Let　me　plete　that　task。　Then　I　will　return　to　you。　You　。　。　。　you　may　then　dispose　of　me　as　you　see　fit。　I　give　you　my　word　as　a　gentleman。〃　
　Fosco　laughed。　〃Do　you　take　me　for　a　fool？　I　am　to　believe　you　shall　return；　willingly；　like　Regulus　to　Carthage；　to　meet　your　end？　Bah！　Even　if　you　do　keep　your　word；　when　should　I　expect　you？　Twenty　or　thirty　years　from　now；　when　you　have　grown　old　and　tired　of　life？〃　
　No　answer　came　from　the　darkness　of　the　niche。　
　〃But　this　task　you　mention。　It　intrigues　me。　A　family　member；　you　say？　Give　me　more　details。〃　
　〃Free　me　first。〃　
　〃That　is　impossible。　But　e…I　see　we　are　simply　bandying　words。　And　I　weary　of　this　task。〃　And　more　quickly　now；　Fosco　finished　the　tenth　course　and　started　on　the　eleventh　and　last。　
　It　was　when　only　a　single　stone　remained　to　be　fitted　and　mortared　into　the　wall　that　Pendergast　spoke　again。　〃Fosco〃…the　voice　was　faint；　sepulchral；　as　if　emerging　from　the　deepest　recesses　of　a　tomb…〃I　ask　you；　as　a　gentleman　and　a　human　being。　Do　not　place　that　brick。〃　
　〃Yes。　It　does　seem　a　shame。〃　And　Fosco　hefted　the　final　brick　in　his　hand。　〃But　I'm　afraid　the　time　has　e　for　us　to　part。　I　thank　you　for　the　pleasure　of　your　pany　these　last　few　days。　I　say　to　you；　notarrivederla；　butaddio。　〃　And　he　forced　the　last　stone　into　place。　
　As　he　smoothed　away　the　last　bit　of　excess　mortar；　Fosco　heard…or　thought　he　heard…a　sound　from　the　tomb　within。　A　low　moan；　or　exhalation　of　breath。　Or　was　it　just　the　wind；　crying　through　the　ancient　catabs？　He　pressed　his　head　to　the　freshly　laid　wall　and　listened　intently。　
　But　there　was　nothing　further。　
　Fosco　stepped　back；　kicked　a　pile　of　scattered　bones　into　position　before　the　wall；　then　grabbed　the　torch　and　made　his　way　hastily　through　the　rat's　nest　of　tunnels　to　the　ancient　stairwell。　Reaching　it；　he　began　to　climb…a　dozen　steps；　two　dozen；　three…heading　for　the　surface　and　the　warm　evening　sunlight；　leaving　the　restless　netherworld　of　shadows　far　behind。　
　　　
　85　
　
　D'Agosta　sat　silently　in　the　backseat　of　the　car　as　it　moved　upthe　winding　mountain　road。　The　countryside　was　as　beautiful　as　it　had　been　two　days　before：　the　hills　clad　in　autumn　raiment；　shining　rust　and　gold　under　the　early　morning　sun。　D'Agosta　barely　noticed。　He　was　staring　up　at　the　cruel…looking　keep　of　Castel　Fosco；　just　now　rising　into　view　above　its　spar　of　gray　rock。　Merely　seeing　the　castle　again　brought　a　chill　not　even　the　convoy　of　police　cars　could　allay。　
　He　shifted　the　weight　of　the　canvas　bag　from　one　leg　to　the　other。　Inside　was　Fosco's　diabolical　weapon。　The　chill　evaporated　before　the　furious；　carefully　controlled　anger　that　burned　within　him。　D'Ago