the lodger-第22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！



〃'Tisn't　the　first　time　Mr。　Sleuth's　been　out　in　a　fog；〃　said　Mrs。　Bunting　sombrely。

Somehow　she　couldn't　help　uttering　these　over…true　words。　　And　then　she　turned；　eager　and　half　frightened；　to　see　how　Bunting　had　taken　what　she　said。

But　he　looked　quite　placid；　as　if　he　had　hardly　heard　her。　　〃We　don't　get　the　good　old　fogs　we　used　to　get　…　not　what　people　used　to　call　'London　particulars。'　　I　expect　the　lodger　feels　like　Mrs。　Crowley　…　I've　often　told　you　about　her；　Ellen？〃

Mrs。　Bunting　nodded。

Mrs。　Crowley　had　been　one　of　Bunting's　ladies；　one　of　those　he　had　liked　best　…　a　cheerful；　jolly　lady；　who　used　often　to　give　her　servants　what　she　called　a　treat。　　It　was　seldom　the　kind　of　treat　they　would　have　chosen　for　themselves；　but　still　they　appreciated　her　kind　thought。

〃Mrs。　Crowley　used　to　say；〃　went　on　Bunting；　in　his　slow；　dogmatic　way；　〃that　she　never　minded　how　bad　the　weather　was　in　London；　so　long　as　it　was　London　and　not　the　country。　　Mr。　Crowley；　he　liked　the　country　best；　but　Mrs。　Crowley　always　felt　dull…like　there。　Fog　never　kept　her　from　going　out　…　no；　that　it　didn't。　　She　wasn't　a　bit　afraid。　　But　…　〃　he　turned　round　and　looked　at　his　wife　…　〃　I　am　a　bit　surprised　at　Mr。　Sleuth。　　I　should　have　thought　him　a　timid　kind　of　gentleman　…　〃

He　waited　a　moment；　and　she　felt　forced　to　answer　him。

〃I　wouldn't　exactly　call　him　timid；〃　she　said；　in　a　low　voice；　〃but　he　is　very　quiet；　certainly。　　That's　why　he　dislikes　going　out　when　there　are　a　lot　of　people　bustling　about　the　streets。　　I　don't　suppose　he'll　be　out　long。〃

She　hoped　with　all　her　soul　that　Mr。　Sleuth　would　be　in　very　soon　　…　that　he　would　be　daunted　by　the　now　increasing　gloom。　　

Somehow　she　did　not　feel　she　could　sit　still　for　very　long。　　She　got　up；　and　went　over　to　the　farthest　window。

The　fog　had　lifted；　certainly。　　She　could　see　the　lamp…lights　on　the　other　side　of　the　Marylebone　Road；　glimmering　redly；　and　shadowy　figures　were　hurrying　past；　mostly　making　their　way　towards　the　Edgware　Road；　to　see　the　Christmas　shops。

At　last　to　his　wife's　relief；　Bunting　got　up　too。　　He　went　over　to　the　cupboard　where　he　kept　his　little　store　of　books；　and　took　one　out。

〃I　think　I'll　read　a　bit；〃　he　said。　　〃Seems　a　long　time　since　I've　looked　at　a　book。　　The　papers　was　so　jolly　interesting　for　a　bit；　but　now　there's　nothing　in　'em。〃

His　wife　remained　silent。　　She　knew　what　he　meant。　　A　good　many　days　had　gone　by　since　the　last　two　Avenger　murders；　and　the　papers　had　very　little　to　say　about　them　that　they　hadn't　said　in　different　language　a　dozen　times　before。

She　went　into　her　bedroom　and　came　back　with　a　bit　of　plain　sewing。

Mrs。　Bunting　was　fond　of　sewing；　and　Bunting　liked　to　see　her　so　engaged。　　Since　Mr。　Sleuth　had　come　to　be　their　lodger　she　had　not　had　much　time　for　that　sort　of　work。

It　was　funny　how　quiet　the　house　was　without　either　Daisy；　or　…　or　the　lodger；　in　it。

At　last　she　let　her　needle　remain　idle；　and　the　bit　of　cambric　slipped　down　on　her　knee；　while　she　listened；　longingly；　for　Mr。　Sleuth's　return　home。

And　as　the　minutes　sped　by　she　fell　to　wondering　with　a　painful　wonder　if　she　would　ever　see　her　lodger　again；　for；　from　what　she　knew　of　Mr。　Sleuth；　Mrs。　Bunting　felt　sure　that　if　he　got　into　any　kind　of　…　well；　trouble　outside；　he　would　never　betray　where　he　had　lived　during　the　last　few　weeks。

No；　in　such　a　case　the　lodger　would　disappear　in　as　sudden　a　way　as　he　had　come。　　And　Bunting　would　never　suspect；　would　never　know；　until；　perhaps　…　God；　what　a　horrible　thought　…　a　picture　published　in　some　newspaper　might　bring　a　certain　dreadful　fact　to　Bunting's　knowledge。

But　if　that　happened　…　if　that　unthinkably　awful　thing　came　to　pass；　she　made　up　her　mind；　here　and　now；　never　to　say　anything。　　She　also　would　pretend　to　be　amazed；　shocked；　unutterably　horrified　at　the　astounding　revelation。　　


CHAPTER　XIV

〃There　he　is　at　last；　and　I'm　glad　of　it；　Ellen。　　'Tain't　a　night　you　would　wish　a　dog　to　be　out　in。〃

Bunting's　voice　was　full　of　relief；　but　he　did　not　turn　round　and　look　at　his　wife　as　he　spoke；　instead；　he　continued　to　read　the　evening　paper　he　held　in　his　hand。

He　was　still　close　to　the　fire；　sitting　back　comfortably　in　his　nice　arm…chair。　　He　looked　very　well　…　well　and　ruddy。　　Mrs。　Bunting　stared　across　at　him　with　a　touch　of　sharp　envy；　nay；　more；　of　resentment。　　And　this　was　very　curious；　for　she　was；　in　her　own　dry　way；　very　fond　of　Bunting。

〃You　needn't　feel　so　nervous　about　him；　Mr。　Sleuth　can　look　out　for　himself　all　right。〃

Bunting　laid　the　paper　he　had　been　reading　down　on　his　knee。　　〃I　can't　think　why　he　wanted　to　go　out　in　such　weather；〃　he　said　impatiently。

〃Well；　it's　none　of　your　business；　Bunting；　now；　is　it？〃

〃No；　that's　true　enough。　　Still；　'twould　be　a　very　bad　thing　for　us　if　anything　happened　to　him。　　This　lodger's　the　first　bit　of　luck　we've　had　for　a　terrible　long　time；　Ellen。〃

Mrs。　Bunting　moved　a　little　impatiently　in　her　high　chair。　　She　remained　silent　for　a　moment。　　What　Bunting　had　said　was　too　obvious　to　be　worth　answering。　　Also　she　was　listening；　following　in　imagination　her　lodger's　quick；　singularity　quiet　progress　…　　〃stealthy〃　she　called　it　to　herself　…　through　the　fog…filled；　lamp…lit　hall。　　Yes；　now　he　was　going　up　the　staircase。　　What　was　that　Bunting　was　saying　？

〃It　isn't　safe　for　decent　folk　to　be　out　in　such　weather　…　no；　that　it　ain't；　not　unless　they　have　something　to　do　that　won't　wait　till　to…morrow。〃　　The　speaker　was　looking　straight　into　his　wife's　narrow；　colourless　face。　　Bunting　was　an　obstinate　man；　and　liked　to　prove　himself　right。　　〃I've　a　good　mind　to　speak　to　him　about　it；　that　I　have！　　He　ought　to　be　told　that　it　isn't　safe　…　not　for　the　sort　of　man　he　is　…　to　be　wandering　about　the　streets　at　night。　　I　read　you　out　the　accidents　in　Lloyd's　…　shocking；　they　were；　and　all　brought　about　by　the　fog！　　And　then；　that　horrid　monster　'ull　soon　be　at　his　work　again　…　〃

〃Monster？〃　repeated　Mrs。　Bunting　absently。

She　was　trying　to　hear　the　lodger's　footsteps　overhead。　　She　was　very　curious　to　know　whether　he　had　gone　into　his　nice　sitting…room；　or　straight　upstairs；　to　that　cold　experiment…room；　as　he　now　always　called　it。

But　her　husband　went　on　as　if　he　had　not　heard　her；　and　she　gave　up　trying　to　listen　to　what　was　going　on　above。

〃It　wouldn't　be　very　pleasant　to　run　up　against　such　a　party　as　that　in　the　fog；　eh；　Ellen？〃　　He　spoke　as　if　the　notion　had　a　certain　pleasant　thrill　in　it　after　all。

〃What　stuff　you　do　talk！〃　said　Mrs。　Bunting　sharply。　　And　then　she　got　up。　　Her　husband's　remarks　had　disturbed　her。　　Why　couldn't　they　talk　of　something　pleasant　when　they　did　have　a　quiet　bit　of　time　together？

Bunting　looked　down　again　at　his　paper；　and　she　moved　quietly　about　the　room。　　Very　soon　it　would　be　time　for　supper；　and　to…night　she　was　going　to　cook　her　husband　a　nice　piece　of　toasted　cheese。　　That　fortunate　man；　as　she　was　fond　of　telling　him；　with　mingled　contempt　and　envy；　had　the　digestion　of　an　ostrich；　and　yet　he　was　rather　fanciful；　as　gentlemen's　servants　who　have　lived　in　good　places　often　are。

Yes；　Bunting　was　very　lucky　in　the　matter　of　his　digestion。　　Mrs。　Bunting　prided　herself　on　having　a　nice　mind；　and　she　would　never　have　allowed　an　unrefined　word　…　such　a　word　as　〃stomach；〃　for　instance；　to　say　nothing　of　an　even　plainer　term　…　to　pass　her　lips；　except；　of　course；　to　a　doctor　in　a　sick…room。

Mr。　Sleuth's　landlady　did　not　go　down　at　once　into　her　cold　kitchen；　instead；　with　a　sudden　furtive　movement；　she　opened　the　door　leading　into　her　bedroom；　and　then；　closing　the　door　quietly；　stepped　back　into　the　darkness；　and　stood　motionless；　listening。

At　first　she　heard　nothing；　but　gradually　there　stole　on　her　listening　ears　the　sound　of　someone　moving　softly　about　in　the　room　just　overhead；　that　is；　in　Mr。　Sleuth's　bedroom。　　But；　try　as　she　might；　it　was　impossible　for　her　to　guess　what　the　lodger　was　doing。

At　last　she　heard　him　open　the　door　leading　out　on　the　little　landing。　　She　could　hear　the　stairs　creaking。　　That　meant；　no　doubt；　that　Mr。　Sleuth　would　pass　the　rest　of　the　evening　in　the　cheerless　room　above。　　He　hadn't　spent　any　time　up　there　for　quite　a　long　while…in　fact；　not　for　nearly　ten　days。　　'Twas　odd　he　chose　to…night；　when　it　was　so　foggy；　to　carry　out　an　experiment。

She　groped　her　way　to　a　chair　and　sat　down。　　She　felt　very　tired　…　　strangely　tired；　as　if　　she　had　gone　through　some　great　physical　exertion。

Yes；　it　was　true　that　Mr。　Sleuth　had　brought　her　and　Bunting　luck；　and　it　was　wrong；　very　wrong；　of　her　ever　to　forget　that。

As　she　sat　there　she　also　reminded　herself；　and　not　for　the　first　time；　what　the　lodger's　departure　would　mean。　　It　would　almost　certainly　mean　ruin；　just　as　his　staying　meant　all　sorts　of　good　things；　of　which　physical　comfort　was　the　least。　If　Mr。　Sleuth　stayed　on　with　them；　as　he　showed　every　intention　of　doing；　it　meant　respectability；　and；　above　all；　security。

Mrs。　Bunting　thought　of　Mr。　Sleuth's　money。　　He　never　received　a　letter；　and　yet　he　must　have　some　kind　of　income　…　so　much　was　clear。　　She　supposed　he　went　and　drew　his　money；　in　sovereigns；　out　of　a　bank　as　he　required　it。

Her　mind　swung　round；　consciously；　deliberately；　away　from　Mr。　Sleuth。

The　Avenger？　　What　a　strange　name！　　Again　she　assured　herself　that　there　would　come　a　time　when　The　Avenger；　whoever　he　was；　must　feel　satiated；　when　he　would　feel　himself　to　be；　so　to　speak；　avenged。

To　go　back　to　Mr。　Sleuth；　it　was　lucky　that　the　lodger　seemed　so　pleased；　not　only　with　the　rooms；　but　with　his　landlord　and　landlady　　…　indeed；　there　was　no　real　reason　why　Mr。　Sleuth　should　ever　wish　to　leave　such　nice　lodgings。　　　　　******

Mrs。　Bunting　suddenly　stood　up。　　She　made　a　strong　effort；　and　shook　off　her　awful　sense　of　apprehension　and　unease。　　Feeling　for　the　handle　of　the　door　giving　into　the　passage　she　turned　it；　and　then；　with　light；　firm　steps；　she　went　down　into　the　kitchen。

When　they　had　first　taken　the　house；　the　basement　had　been　made　by　her　care；　if　not　into　a　pleasant；　then；　at　any　rate；　into　a　very　clean　place。　　She　had　had　it　whitewashed；　and　against　the　still　white　walls　the　gas　stove　loomed　up；　a　great　square　of　black　iro