the man who was thursday-第13部分

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tair　into　the　shop　below。

When　he　entered　that　lower　room　he　stood　stricken　and　rooted　to　the　spot。　At　a　small　table；　close　up　to　the　blank　window　and　the　white　street　of　snow；　sat　the　old　anarchist　Professor　over　a　glass　of　milk；　with　his　lifted　livid　face　and　pendent　eyelids。　For　an　instant　Syme　stood　as　rigid　as　the　stick　he　leant　upon。　Then　with　a　gesture　as　of　blind　hurry；　he　brushed　past　the　Professor；　dashing　open　the　door　and　slamming　it　behind　him；　and　stood　outside　in　the　snow。

〃Can　that　old　corpse　be　following　me？〃　he　asked　himself；　biting　his　yellow　moustache。　〃I　stopped　too　long　up　in　that　room；　so　that　even　such　leaden　feet　could　catch　me　up。　One　comfort　is；　with　a　little　brisk　walking　I　can　put　a　man　like　that　as　far　away　as　Timbuctoo。　Or　am　I　too　fanciful？　Was　he　really　following　me？　Surely　Sunday　would　not　be　such　a　fool　as　to　send　a　lame　man？　〃

He　set　off　at　a　smart　pace；　twisting　and　whirling　his　stick；　in　the　direction　of　Covent　Garden。　As　he　crossed　the　great　market　the　snow　increased；　growing　blinding　and　bewildering　as　the　afternoon　began　to　darken。　The　snow…flakes　tormented　him　like　a　swarm　of　silver　bees。　Getting　into　his　eyes　and　beard；　they　added　their　unremitting　futility　to　his　already　irritated　nerves；　and　by　the　time　that　he　had　come　at　a　swinging　pace　to　the　beginning　of　Fleet　Street；　he　lost　patience；　and　finding　a　Sunday　teashop；　turned　into　it　to　take　shelter。　He　ordered　another　cup　of　black　coffee　as　an　excuse。　Scarcely　had　he　done　so；　when　Professor　de　Worms　hobbled　heavily　into　the　shop；　sat　down　with　difficulty　and　ordered　a　glass　of　milk。

Syme's　walking…stick　had　fallen　from　his　hand　with　a　great　clang；　which　confessed　the　concealed　steel。　But　the　Professor　did　not　look　round。　Syme；　who　was　commonly　a　cool　character；　was　literally　gaping　as　a　rustic　gapes　at　a　conjuring　trick。　He　had　seen　no　cab　following；　he　had　heard　no　wheels　outside　the　shop；　to　all　mortal　appearances　the　man　had　come　on　foot。　But　the　old　man　could　only　walk　like　a　snail；　and　Syme　had　walked　like　the　wind。　He　started　up　and　snatched　his　stick；　half　crazy　with　the　contradiction　in　mere　arithmetic；　and　swung　out　of　the　swinging　doors；　leaving　his　coffee　untasted。　An　omnibus　going　to　the　Bank　went　rattling　by　with　an　unusual　rapidity。　He　had　a　violent　run　of　a　hundred　yards　to　reach　it；　but　he　managed　to　spring；　swaying　upon　the　splash…board　and；　pausing　for　an　instant　to　pant；　he　climbed　on　to　the　top。　When　he　had　been　seated　for　about　half　a　minute；　he　heard　behind　him　a　sort　of　heavy　and　asthmatic　breathing。

Turning　sharply；　he　saw　rising　gradually　higher　and　higher　up　the　omnibus　steps　a　top　hat　soiled　and　dripping　with　snow；　and　under　the　shadow　of　its　brim　the　short…sighted　face　and　shaky　shoulders　of　Professor　de　Worms。　He　let　himself　into　a　seat　with　characteristic　care；　and　wrapped　himself　up　to　the　chin　in　the　mackintosh　rug。

Every　movement　of　the　old　man's　tottering　figure　and　vague　hands；　every　uncertain　gesture　and　panic…stricken　pause；　seemed　to　put　it　beyond　question　that　he　was　helpless；　that　he　was　in　the　last　imbecility　of　the　body。　He　moved　by　inches；　he　let　himself　down　with　little　gasps　of　caution。　And　yet；　unless　the　philosophical　entities　called　time　and　space　have　no　vestige　even　of　a　practical　existence；　it　appeared　quite　unquestionable　that　he　had　run　after　the　omnibus。

Syme　sprang　erect　upon　the　rocking　car；　and　after　staring　wildly　at　the　wintry　sky；　that　grew　gloomier　every　moment；　he　ran　down　the　steps。　He　had　repressed　an　elemental　impulse　to　leap　over　the　side。

Too　bewildered　to　look　back　or　to　reason；　he　rushed　into　one　of　the　little　courts　at　the　side　of　Fleet　Street　as　a　rabbit　rushes　into　a　hole。　He　had　a　vague　idea；　if　this　incomprehensible　old　Jack…in…the…box　was　really　pursuing　him；　that　in　that　labyrinth　of　little　streets　he　could　soon　throw　him　off　the　scent。　He　dived　in　and　out　of　those　crooked　lanes；　which　were　more　like　cracks　than　thoroughfares；　and　by　the　time　that　he　had　completed　about　twenty　alternate　angles　and　described　an　unthinkable　polygon；　he　paused　to　listen　for　any　sound　of　pursuit。　There　was　none；　there　could　not　in　any　case　have　been　much；　for　the　little　streets　were　thick　with　the　soundless　snow。　Somewhere　behind　Red　Lion　Court；　however；　he　noticed　a　place　where　some　energetic　citizen　had　cleared　away　the　snow　for　a　space　of　about　twenty　yards；　leaving　the　wet；　glistening　cobble…stones。　He　thought　little　of　this　as　he　passed　it；　only　plunging　into　yet　another　arm　of　the　maze。　But　when　a　few　hundred　yards　farther　on　he　stood　still　again　to　listen；　his　heart　stood　still　also；　for　he　heard　from　that　space　of　rugged　stones　the　clinking　crutch　and　labouring　feet　of　the　infernal　cripple。

The　sky　above　was　loaded　with　the　clouds　of　snow；　leaving　London　in　a　darkness　and　oppression　premature　for　that　hour　of　the　evening。　On　each　side　of　Syme　the　walls　of　the　alley　were　blind　and　featureless；　there　was　no　little　window　or　any　kind　of　eve。　He　felt　a　new　impulse　to　break　out　of　this　hive　of　houses；　and　to　get　once　more　into　the　open　and　lamp…lit　street。　Yet　he　rambled　and　dodged　for　a　long　time　before　he　struck　the　main　thoroughfare。　When　he　did　so；　he　struck　it　much　farther　up　than　he　had　fancied。　He　came　out　into　what　seemed　the　vast　and　void　of　Ludgate　Circus；　and　saw　St。　Paul's　Cathedral　sitting　in　the　sky。

At　first　he　was　startled　to　find　these　great　roads　so　empty；　as　if　a　pestilence　had　swept　through　the　city。　Then　he　told　himself　that　some　degree　of　emptiness　was　natural；　first　because　the　snow…storm　was　even　dangerously　deep；　and　secondly　because　it　was　Sunday。　And　at　the　very　word　Sunday　he　bit　his　lip；　the　word　was　henceforth　for　hire　like　some　indecent　pun。　Under　the　white　fog　of　snow　high　up　in　the　heaven　the　whole　atmosphere　of　the　city　was　turned　to　a　very　queer　kind　of　green　twilight；　as　of　men　under　the　sea。　The　sealed　and　sullen　sunset　behind　the　dark　dome　of　St。　Paul's　had　in　it　smoky　and　sinister　colourscolours　of　sickly　green；　dead　red　or　decaying　bronze；　that　were　just　bright　enough　to　emphasise　the　solid　whiteness　of　the　snow。　But　right　up　against　these　dreary　colours　rose　the　black　bulk　of　the　cathedral；　and　upon　the　top　of　the　cathedral　was　a　random　splash　and　great　stain　of　snow；　still　clinging　as　to　an　Alpine　peak。　It　had　fallen　accidentally；　but　just　so　fallen　as　to　half　drape　the　dome　from　its　very　topmost　point；　and　to　pick　out　in　perfect　silver　the　great　orb　and　the　cross。　When　Syme　saw　it　he　suddenly　straightened　himself；　and　made　with　his　sword…stick　an　involuntary　salute。

He　knew　that　that　evil　figure；　his　shadow；　was　creeping　quickly　or　slowly　behind　him；　and　he　did　not　care。

It　seemed　a　symbol　of　human　faith　and　valour　that　while　the　skies　were　darkening　that　high　place　of　the　earth　was　bright。　The　devils　might　have　captured　heaven；　but　they　had　not　yet　captured　the　cross。　He　had　a　new　impulse　to　tear　out　the　secret　of　this　dancing；　jumping　and　pursuing　paralytic；　and　at　the　entrance　of　the　court　as　it　opened　upon　the　Circus　he　turned；　stick　in　hand；　to　face　his　pursuer。

Professor　de　Worms　came　slowly　round　the　corner　of　the　irregular　alley　behind　him；　his　unnatural　form　outlined　against　a　lonely　gas…lamp；　irresistibly　recalling　that　very　imaginative　figure　in　the　nursery　rhymes；　〃the　crooked　man　who　went　a　crooked　mile。〃　He　really　looked　as　if　he　had　been　twisted　out　of　shape　by　the　tortuous　streets　he　had　been　threading。　He　came　nearer　and　nearer；　the　lamplight　shining　on　his　lifted　spectacles；　his　lifted；　patient　face。　Syme　waited　for　him　as　St。　George　waited　for　the　dragon；　as　a　man　waits　for　a　final　explanation　or　for　death。　And　the　old　Professor　came　right　up　to　him　and　passed　him　like　a　total　stranger；　without　even　a　blink　of　his　mournful　eyelids。

There　was　something　in　this　silent　and　unexpected　innocence　that　left　Syme　in　a　final　fury。　The　man's　colourless　face　and　manner　seemed　to　assert　that　the　whole　following　had　been　an　accident。　Syme　was　galvanised　with　an　energy　that　was　something　between　bitterness　and　a　burst　of　boyish　derision。　He　made　a　wild　gesture　as　if　to　knock　the　old　man's　hat　off；　called　out　something　like　〃Catch　me　if　you　can；〃　and　went　racing　away　across　the　white；　open　Circus。　Concealment　was　impossible　now；　and　looking　back　over　his　shoulder；　he　could　see　the　black　figure　of　the　old　gentleman　coming　after　him　with　long；　swinging　strides　like　a　man　winning　a　mile　race。　But　the　head　upon　that　bounding　body　was　still　pale；　grave　and　professional；　like　the　head　of　a　lecturer　upon　the　body　of　a　harlequin。

This　outrageous　chase　sped　across　Ludgate　Circus；　up　Ludgate　Hill；　round　St。　Paul's　Cathedral；　along　Cheapside；　Syme　remembering　all　the　nightmares　he　had　ever　known。　Then　Syme　broke　away　towards　the　river；　and　ended　almost　down　by　the　docks。　He　saw　the　yellow　panes　of　a　low；　lighted　public…house；　flung　himself　into　it　and　ordered　beer。　It　was　a　foul　tavern；　sprinkled　with　foreign　sailors；　a　place　where　opium　might　be　smoked　or　knives　drawn。

A　moment　later　Professor　de　Worms　entered　the　place；　sat　down　carefully；　and　asked　for　a　glass　of　milk。



CHAPTER　VIII

THE　PROFESSOR　EXPLAINS

WHEN　Gabriel　Syme　found　himself　finally　established　in　a　chair；　and　opposite　to　him；　fixed　and　final　also；　the　lifted　eyebrows　and　leaden　eyelids　of　the　Professor；　his　fears　fully　returned。　This　incomprehensible　man　from　the　fierce　council；　after　all；　had　certainly　pursued　him。　If　the　man　had　one　character　as　a　paralytic　and　another　character　as　a　pursuer；　the　antithesis　might　make　him　more　interesting；　but　scarcely　more　soothing。　It　would　be　a　very　small　comfort　that　he　could　not　find　the　Professor　out；　if　by　some　serious　accident　the　Professor　should　find　him　out。　He　emptied　a　whole　pewter　pot　of　ale　before　the　professor　had　touched　his　milk。

One　possibility；　however；　kept　him　hopeful　and　yet　helpless。　It　was　just　possible　that　this　escapade　signified　something　other　than　even　a　slight　suspicion　of　him。　Perhaps　it　was　some　regular　form　or　sign。　Perhaps　the　foolish　scamper　was　some　sort　of　friendly　signal　that　he　ought　to　have　understood。　Perhaps　it　was　a　ritual。　Perhaps　the　new　Thursday　was　always　chased　along　Cheapside；　as　the　new　Lord　Mayor　is　always　escorted　along　it。　He　was　just　sele