the lodger-第35部分

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me　because　it　was　quite　unexpected！　The　young　lady　at　whose　birthday　party　he　had　been　present　in　capacity　of　waiter　had　come　into　a　fortune　that　day；　and　she　had　had　the　gracious；　the　surprising　thought　of　presenting　each　of　the　hired　waiters　with　a　sovereign！

This　gift；　which　had　been　accompanied　by　a　few　kind　words；　had　gone　to　Bunting's　heart。　　It　had　confirmed　him　in　his　Conservative　principles；　only　gentlefolk　ever　behaved　in　that　way；　quiet；　old…fashioned；　respectable；　gentlefolk；　the　sort　of　people　of　whom　those　nasty　Radicals　know　nothing　and　care　less！

But　the　ex…butler　was　not　as　happy　as　he　should　have　been。　Slackening　his　footsteps；　he　began　to　think　with　puzzled　concern　of　how　queer　his　wife　had　seemed　lately。　　Ellen　had　become　so　nervous；　so　〃jumpy；〃　that　he　didn't　know　what　to　make　of　her　sometimes。　　She　had　never　been　really　good…tempered　…　your　capable；　self　…respecting　woman　seldom　is　…　but　she　had　never　been　like　what　she　was　now。　　And　she　didn't　get　better　as　the　days　went　on；　in　fact　she　got　worse。　Of　late　she　had　been　quite　hysterical；　and　for　no　reason　at　all！　Take　that　little　practical　joke　of　young　Joe　Chandler。　　Ellen　knew　quite　well　he　often　had　to　go　about　in　some　kind　of　disguise；　and　yet　how　she　had　gone　on；　quite　foolish…like　…　not　at　all　as　one　would　have　expected　her　to　do。

There　was　another　queer　thing　about　her　which　disturbed　him　in　more　senses　than　one。　　During　the　last　three　weeks　or　so　Ellen　had　taken　to　talking　in　her　sleep。　　〃No；　no；　no！〃　she　had　cried　out；　only　the　night　before。　　〃It　isn't　true　…　I　won't　have　it　said　…　it's　a　lie！〃　And　there　had　been　a　wail　of　horrible　fear　and　revolt　in　her　usually　quiet；　mincing　voice。

******

Whew！　　it　was　cold；　and　he　had　stupidly　forgotten　his　gloves。

He　put　his　hands　in　his　pockets　to　keep　them　warm；　and　began　walking　more　quickly。

As　h&　tramped　steadily　along；　the　ex…butler　suddenly　caught　sight　of　his　lodger　walking　along　the　opposite　side　of　the　solitary　street　　…　one　of　those　short　streets　leading　off　the　broad　road　which　encircles　Regent's　Park。

Well！　　This　was　a　funny　time　o'　night　to　be　taking　a　stroll　for　pleasure；　like！

Glancing　across；　Bunting　noticed　that　Mr。　Sleuth's　tall；　thin　figure　was　rather　bowed；　and　that　his　head　was　bent　toward　the　ground。　　His　left　arm　was　thrust　into　his　long　Inverness　tape；　and　so　was　quite　hidden；　but　the　other　side　of　the　cape　bulged　out；　as　if　the　lodger　were　carrying　a　bag　or　parcel　in　the　hand　which　hung　down　straight。

Mr。　Sleuth　was　walking　rather　quickly；　and　as　he　walked　he　talked　aloud；　which；　as　Bunting　knew；　is　not　unusual　with　gentlemen　who　live　much　alone。　　It　was　clear　that　he　had　not　yet　become　aware　of　the　proximity　of　his　landlord。

Bunting　told　himself　that　Ellen　was　right。　　Their　lodger　was　certainly　a　most　eccentric；　peculiar　person。　　Strange；　was　it　not；　that　that　odd；　luny…like　gentleman　should　have　made　all　the　difference　to　his；　Bunting's；　and　Mrs。　Bunting's　happiness　and　comfort　in　life？

Again　glancing　across　at　Mr。　Sleuth；　he　reminded　himself；　not　for　the　first　time；　of　this　perfect　lodger's　one　fault　…　his　odd　dislike　to　meat；　and　to　what　Bunting　vaguely　called　to　himself；　sensible　food。

But　there；　you　can't　have　everything！　　The　more　so　that　the　lodger　was　not　one　of　those　crazy　vegetarians　who　won't　eat　eggs　and　cheese。　No；　he　was　reasonable　in　this；　as　in　everything　else　connected　with　his　dealings　with　the　Buntings。

As　we　know；　Bunting　saw　far　less　of　the　lodger　than　did　his　wife。　Indeed；　he　had　been　upstairs　only　three　or　four　times　since　Mr。　Sleuth　had　been　with　them；　and　when　his　landlord　had　had　occasion　to　wait　on　him　the　lodger　had　remained　silent。　　Indeed；　their　gentleman　had　made　it　very　clear　that　he　did　not　like　either　the　husband　or　wife　to　come　up　to　his　rooms　without　being　definitely　asked　to　do　so。

Now；　surely；　would　be　a　good　opportunity　for　a　little　genial　conversation？　　Bunting　felt　pleased　to　see　his　lodger；　it　increased　his　general　comfortable　sense　of　satisfaction。

So　it　was　that　the　a…butler；　still　an　active　man　for　his　years；　crossed　over　the　road；　and；　stepping　briskly　forward；　began　trying　to　overtake　Mr。　Sleuth。　　But　the　more　he　hurried　along；　the　more　the　other　hastened；　and　that　without　ever　turning　round　to　see　whose　steps　he　could　hear　echoing　behind　him　on　the　now　freezing　pavement。

Mr。　Sleuth's　own　footsteps　were　quite　inaudible　…　an　odd　circumstance；　when　you　came　to　think　of　it　…　as　Bunting　did　think　of　it　later；　lying　awake　by　Mrs。　Bunting's　side　in　the　pitch　darkness。　　What　it　meant　of　course；　was　that　the　lodger　had　rubber　soles　on　his　shoes。　Now　Bunting　had　never　had　a　pair　of　rubber…soled　shoes　sent　down　to　him　to　dean。　　He　had　always　supposed　the　lodger　had　only　one　pair　of　outdoor　boots。

The　two　men　…　the　pursued　and　the　pursuer　…　at　last　turned　into　the　Marylebone　Road；　they　were　now　within　a　few　hundred　yards　of　home。　Plucking　up　courage；　Bunting　called　out；　his　voice　echoing　freshly　on　the　still　air：

〃Mr　Sleuth；　sir？　　Mr。　Sleuth！〃

The　lodger　stopped　and　turned　round。

He　had　been　walking　so　quickly；　and　he　was　in　so　poor　a　physical　condition；　that　the　sweat　was　pouring　down　his　face。

〃Ah！　　So　it's　you；　Mr。　Bunting？　　I　heard　footsteps　behind　me；　and　I　hurried　on。　　I　wish　I'd　known　that　it　was　you；　there　are　so　many　queer　characters　about　at　night　in　London。〃

〃Not　on　a　night　like　this；　sir。　　Only　honest　folk　who　have　business　out　of　doors　would　be　out　such　a　night　as　this。　　It　is　cold；　sir！〃

And　then　into　Bunting's　slow　and　honest　mind　there　suddenly　crept　the　query　as　to　what　on　earth　Mr。　Sleuth's　own　business　out　could　be　on　this　bitter　night。

〃Cold？〃　the　lodger　repeated；　he　was　panting　a　little；　and　his　words　came　out　sharp　and　quick　through　his　thin　lips。　　〃I　can't　say　that　I　find　it　cold；　Mr。　Bunting。　　When　the　snow　falls；　the　air　always　becomes　milder。〃

〃Yes；　sir；　but　to…night　there's　such　a　sharp　east　wind。　　Why；　it　freezes　the　very　marrow　in　one's　bones！　　Still；　there's　nothing　like　walking　in　cold　weather　to　make　one　warm；　as　you　seem　to　have　found；　sir。〃

Bunting　noticed　that　Mr。　Sleuth　kept　his　distance　in　a　rather　strange　way；　he　walked　at　the　edge　of　the　pavement；　leaving　the　rest　of　it；　on　the　wall　side；　to　his　landlord。

〃I　lost　my　way；〃　he　said　abruptly。　　〃I've　been　over　Primrose　Hill　to　see　a　friend　of　mine；　a　man　with　whom　I　studied　when　I　was　a　lad；　and　then；　coming　back；　I　lost　my　way。

Now　they　had　come　right　up　to　the　little　gate　which　opened　on　the　shabby；　paved　court　in　front　of　the　house　…　that　gate　which　now　was　never　locked。

Mr。　Sleuth；　pushing　suddenly　forward；　began　walking　up　the　flagged　path；　when；　with　a　〃By　your　leave；　sir；〃　the　ex…butler；　stepping　aside；　slipped　in　front　of　his　lodger；　in　order　to　open　the　front　door　for　him。

As　he　passed　by　Mr。　Sleuth；　the　back　of　Bunting's　bare　left　hand　brushed　lightly　against　the　long　Inverness　cape　the　lodger　was　wearing；　and；　to　Bunting's　surprise；　the　stretch　of　cloth　against　which　his　hand　lay　for　a　moment　was　not　only　damp；　damp　maybe　from　stray　flakes　of　snow　which　had　settled　upon　it；　but　wet　…　wet　and　gluey。

Bunting　thrust　his　left　hand　into　his　pocket；　it　was　with　the　other　that　he　placed　the　key　in　the　lock　of　the　door。

The　two　men　passed　into　the　hail　together。

The　house　seemed　blackly　dark　in　comparison　with　the　lighted…up　road　outside；　and　as　he　groped　forward；　closely　followed　by　the　lodger；　there　came　over　Bunting　a　sudden；　reeling　sensation　of　mortal　terror；　an　instinctive；　assailing　knowledge　of　frightful　immediate　danger。

A　stuffless　voice　…　the　voice　of　his　first　wife；　the　long…dead　girl　to　whom　his　mind　so　seldom　reverted　nowadays　…　uttered　into　his　ear　the　words；　〃Take　care！〃

And　then　the　lodger　spoke。　　His　voice　was　harsh　and　grating；　though　not　loud。

〃I'm　afraid；　Mr。　Bunting；　that　you　must　have　felt　something　dirty；　foul；　on　my　coat？　　It's　too　long　a　story　to　tell　you　now；　but　I　brushed　up　against　a　dead　animal；　a　creature　to　whose　misery　some　thoughtful　soul　had　put　an　end；　lying　across　a　bench　on　Primrose　Hill。〃

〃No；　sir；　no。　　I　didn't　notice　nothing。　　I　scarcely　touched　you；　sir。〃

It　seemed　as　if　a　power　outside　himself　compelled　Bunting　to　utter　these　lying　words。　　〃And　now；　sir；　I'll　be　saying　good…night　to　you；〃　he　said。

Stepping　back　he　pressed　with　all　the　strength　that　was　in　him　against　the　wall；　and　let　the　other　pass　him。　　There　was　a　pause；　and　then　…　〃Good…night；〃　returned　Mr。　Sleuth；　in　a　hollow　voice。　Bunting　waited　until　the　lodger　had　gone　upstairs；　and　then；　lighting　the　gas；　he　sat　down　there；　in　the　hall。　　Mr。　Sleuth's　　landlord　felt　very　queer　…　queer　and　sick。

He　did　not　draw　his　left　hand　out　of　his　pocket　till　he　heard　Mr。　Sleuth　shut　the　bedroom　door　upstairs。　　Then　he　held　up　his　left　hand　and　looked　at　it　curiously；　it　was　flecked；　streaked　with　pale　reddish　blood。

Taking　off　his　boots；　he　crept　into　the　room　where　his　wife　lay　asleep。　　Stealthily　he　walked　across　to　the　wash…hand…stand；　and　dipped　a　hand　into　the　water…jug。

〃Whatever　are　you　doing？　　What　on　earth　are　you　doing？〃　came　a　voice　from　the　bed；　and　Bunting　started　guiltily。

〃I'm　just　washing　my　hands。〃

〃Indeed；　you're　doing　nothing　of　the　sort！　　I　never　heard　of　such　a　thing　…　putting　your　hand　into　the　water　in　which　I　was　going　to　wash　my　face　to…morrow　morning！〃

〃I'm　very　sorry；　Ellen；〃　he　said　meekly；　〃I　meant　to　throw　it　away。　You　don't　suppose　I　would　have　let　you　wash　in　dirty　water；　do　you？〃

She　said　no　more；　but；　as　he　began　undressing　himself；　Mrs。　Bunting　lay　staring　at　him　in　a　way　that　made　her　husband　feel　even　more　uncomfortable　than　he　was　already。

At　last　he　got　into　bed。　　He　wanted　to　break　the　oppressive　silence　by　telling　Ellen　about　the　sovereign　the　young　lady　had　given　him；　but　that　sovereign　now　seemed　to　Bunting　of　no　more　account　than　if　it　had　been　a　farthing　he　had　picked　up　in　the　road　outside。

Once　more　his　wife　spoke；　and　he　gave　so　great　a　start　that　it　shook　the　bed。

〃I　suppose　that　you　don't　know　that　you've　left　the　light　burning　in　the　hall；　wasting　our　good　money？〃　she　observed　tartly。

He　got　up　painfully　and　opened　the　door　into　the　passage。　　It　was　as　she　had　said；　the　gas　was　flaring　a