the wisdom of father brown-第22部分

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ours　ever；　FRANCIS　FINN。

　　　　　Mr　Nutt　reflected　a　moment；　staring　at　his　left　boot；　then　he　called　out　in　a　strong；　loud　and　entirely　lifeless　voice；　in　which　every　syllable　sounded　alike：　　〃Miss　Barlow；　take　down　a　letter　to　Mr　Finn；　please。〃

　　　　　DEAR　FINN；I　think　it　would　do；　copy　should　reach　us　second　post　Saturday。Yours；　E。　NUTT。

　　　　　This　elaborate　epistle　he　articulated　as　if　it　were　all　one　word；　and　Miss　Barlow　rattled　it　down　as　if　it　were　all　one　word。　　Then　he　took　up　another　strip　of　proof　and　a　blue　pencil；　and　altered　the　word　〃supernatural〃　to　the　word　〃marvellous〃；　and　the　expression　〃shoot　down〃　to　the　expression　〃repress〃。

　　　　　In　such　happy；　healthful　activities　did　Mr　Nutt　disport　himself；　until　the　ensuing　Saturday　found　him　at　the　same　desk；　dictating　to　the　same　typist；　and　using　the　same　blue　pencil　on　the　first　instalment　of　Mr　Finn's　revelations。　　The　opening　was　a　sound　piece　of　slashing　invective　about　the　evil　secrets　of　princes；　and　despair　in　the　high　places　of　the　earth。　　Though　written　violently；　it　was　in　excellent　English；　but　the　editor；　as　usual；　had　given　to　somebody　else　the　task　of　breaking　it　up　into　sub…headings；　which　were　of　a　spicier　sort；　as　〃Peeress　and　Poisons〃；　and　〃The　Eerie　Ear〃；　〃The　Eyres　in　their　Eyrie〃；　and　so　on　through　a　hundred　happy　changes。　　Then　followed　the　legend　of　the　Ear；　amplified　from　Finn's　first　letter；　and　then　the　substance　of　his　later　discoveries；　as　follows：


　　　　　I　know　it　is　the　practice　of　journalists　to　put　the　end　of　the　story　at　the　beginning　and　call　it　a　headline。　　I　know　that　journalism　largely　consists　in　saying　〃Lord　Jones　Dead〃　to　people　who　never　knew　that　Lord　Jones　was　alive。　　Your　present　correspondent　thinks　that　this；　like　many　other　journalistic　customs；　is　bad　journalism；　and　that　the　Daily　Reformer　has　to　set　a　better　example　in　such　things。　　He　proposes　to　tell　his　story　as　it　occurred；　step　by　step。　　He　will　use　the　real　names　of　the　parties；　who　in　most　cases　are　ready　to　confirm　his　testimony。　　　As　for　the　headlines；　the　sensational　proclamationsthey　will　come　at　the　end。

　　　　　I　was　walking　along　a　public　path　that　threads　through　a　private　Devonshire　orchard　and　seems　to　point　towards　Devonshire　cider；　when　I　came　suddenly　upon　just　such　a　place　as　the　path　suggested。　　It　was　a　long；　low　inn；　consisting　really　of　a　cottage　and　two　barns；　thatched　all　over　with　the　thatch　that　looks　like　brown　and　grey　hair　grown　before　history。　　But　outside　the　door　was　a　sign　which　called　it　the　Blue　Dragon；　and　under　the　sign　was　one　of　those　long　rustic　tables　that　used　to　stand　outside　most　of　the　free　English　inns；　before　teetotallers　and　brewers　between　them　destroyed　freedom。　　And　at　this　table　sat　three　gentlemen；　who　might　have　lived　a　hundred　years　ago。

　　　　　Now　that　I　know　them　all　better；　there　is　no　difficulty　about　disentangling　the　impressions；　but　just　then　they　looked　like　three　very　solid　ghosts。　　The　dominant　figure；　both　because　he　was　bigger　in　all　three　dimensions；　and　because　he　sat　centrally　in　the　length　of　the　table；　facing　me；　was　a　tall；　fat　man　dressed　completely　in　black；　with　a　rubicund；　even　apoplectic　visage；　but　a　rather　bald　and　rather　bothered　brow。　　Looking　at　him　again；　more　strictly；　I　could　not　exactly　say　what　it　was　that　gave　me　the　sense　of　antiquity；　except　the　antique　cut　of　his　white　clerical　necktie　and　the　barred　wrinkles　across　his　brow。

　　　　　It　was　even　less　easy　to　fix　the　impression　in　the　case　of　the　man　at　the　right　end　of　the　table；　who；　to　say　truth；　was　as　commonplace　a　person　as　could　be　seen　anywhere；　with　a　round；　brown…haired　head　and　a　round　snub　nose；　but　also　clad　in　clerical　black；　of　a　stricter　cut。　　It　was　only　when　I　saw　his　broad　curved　hat　lying　on　the　table　beside　him　that　I　realized　why　I　connected　him　with　anything　ancient。　　He　was　a　Roman　Catholic　priest。

　　　　　Perhaps　the　third　man；　at　the　other　end　of　the　table；　had　really　more　to　do　with　it　than　the　rest；　though　he　was　both　slighter　in　physical　presence　and　more　inconsiderate　in　his　dress。　　His　lank　limbs　were　clad；　I　might　also　say　clutched；　in　very　tight　grey　sleeves　and　pantaloons；　he　had　a　long；　sallow；　aquiline　face　which　seemed　somehow　all　the　more　saturnine　because　his　lantern　jaws　were　imprisoned　in　his　collar　and　neck…cloth　more　in　the　style　of　the　old　stock；　and　his　hair　（which　ought　to　have　been　dark　brown）　was　of　an　odd　dim；　russet　colour　which；　in　conjunction　with　his　yellow　face；　looked　rather　purple　than　red。　　The　unobtrusive　yet　unusual　colour　was　all　the　more　notable　because　his　hair　was　almost　unnaturally　healthy　and　curling；　and　he　wore　it　full。　　But；　after　all　analysis；　I　incline　to　think　that　what　gave　me　my　first　old…fashioned　impression　was　simply　a　set　of　tall；　old…fashioned　wine…glasses；　one　or　two　lemons　and　two　churchwarden　pipes。　　And　also；　perhaps；　the　old…world　errand　on　which　I　had　come。

　　　　　Being　a　hardened　reporter；　and　it　being　apparently　a　public　inn；　I　did　not　need　to　summon　much　of　my　impudence　to　sit　down　at　the　long　table　and　order　some　cider。　　The　big　man　in　black　seemed　very　learned；　especially　about　local　antiquities；　the　small　man　in　black；　though　he　talked　much　less；　surprised　me　with　a　yet　wider　culture。　　So　we　got　on　very　well　together；　but　the　third　man；　the　old　gentleman　in　the　tight　pantaloons；　seemed　rather　distant　and　haughty；　until　I　slid　into　the　subject　of　the　Duke　of　Exmoor　and　his　ancestry。

　　　　　I　thought　the　subject　seemed　to　embarrass　the　other　two　a　little；　but　it　broke　the　spell　of　the　third　man's　silence　most　successfully。　　Speaking　with　restraint　and　with　the　accent　of　a　highly　educated　gentleman；　and　puffing　at　intervals　at　his　long　churchwarden　pipe；　he　proceeded　to　tell　me　some　of　the　most　horrible　stories　I　have　ever　heard　in　my　life：　　how　one　of　the　Eyres　in　the　former　ages　had　hanged　his　own　father；　and　another　had　his　wife　scourged　at　the　cart　tail　through　the　village；　and　another　had　set　fire　to　a　church　full　of　children；　and　so　on。

　　　　　Some　of　the　tales；　indeed；　are　not　fit　for　public　print；　such　as　the　story　of　the　Scarlet　Nuns；　the　abominable　story　of　the　Spotted　Dog；　or　the　thing　that　was　done　in　the　quarry。　　And　all　this　red　roll　of　impieties　came　from　his　thin；　genteel　lips　rather　primly　than　otherwise；　as　he　sat　sipping　the　wine　out　of　his　tall；　thin　glass。

　　　　　I　could　see　that　the　big　man　opposite　me　was　trying；　if　anything；　to　stop　him；　but　he　evidently　held　the　old　gentleman　in　considerable　respect；　and　could　not　venture　to　do　so　at　all　abruptly。　　And　the　little　priest　at　the　other　end　of　the…table；　though　free　from　any　such　air　of　embarrassment；　looked　steadily　at　the　table；　and　seemed　to　listen　to　the　recital　with　great　painas　well　as　he　might。

　　　　　〃You　don't　seem；〃　I　said　to　the　narrator；　〃to　be　very　fond　of　the　Exmoor　pedigree。〃

　　　　　He　looked　at　me　a　moment；　his　lips　still　prim；　but　whitening　and　tightening；　then　he　deliberately　broke　his　long　pipe　and　glass　on　the　table　and　stood　up；　the　very　picture　of　a　perfect　gentleman　with　the　framing　temper　of　a　fiend。

　　　　　〃These　gentlemen；〃　he　said；　〃will　tell　you　whether　I　have　cause　to　like　it。　　The　curse　of　the　Eyres　of　old　has　lain　heavy　on　this　country；　and　many　have　suffered　from　it。　　They　know　there　are　none　who　have　suffered　from　it　as　I　have。〃　　And　with　that　he　crushed　a　piece　of　the　fallen　glass　under　his　heel；　and　strode　away　among　the　green　twilight　of　the　twinkling　apple…trees。

　　　　　〃That　is　an　extraordinary　old　gentleman；〃　I　said　to　the　other　two；　〃do　you　happen　to　know　what　the　Exmoor　family　has　done　to　him？　　Who　is　he？〃

　　　　　The　big　man　in　black　was　staring　at　me　with　the　wild　air　of　a　baffled　bull；　he　did　not　at　first　seem　to　take　it　in。　　Then　he　said　at　last；　〃Don't　you　know　who　he　is？〃

　　　　　I　reaffirmed　my　ignorance；　and　there　was　another　silence；　then　the　little　priest　said；　still　looking　at　the　table；　〃That　is　the　Duke　of　Exmoor。〃

　　　　　Then；　before　I　could　collect　my　scattered　senses；　he　added　equally　quietly；　but　with　an　air　of　regularizing　things：　　〃My　friend　here　is　Doctor　Mull；　the　Duke's　librarian。　　My　name　is　Brown。〃

　　　　　〃But；〃　I　stammered；　〃if　that　is　the　Duke；　why　does　he　damn　all　the　old　dukes　like　that？〃

　　　　　〃He　seems　really　to　believe；〃　answered　the　priest　called　Brown；　〃that　they　have　left　a　curse　on　him。〃　Then　he　added；　with　some　irrelevance；　〃That's　why　he　wears　a　wig。〃

　　　　　It　was　a　few　moments　before　his　meaning　dawned　on　me。　　〃You　don't　mean　that　fable　about　the　fantastic　ear？〃　I　demanded。　　〃I've　heard　of　it；　of　course；　but　surely　it　must　be　a　superstitious　yarn　spun　out　of　something　much　simpler。　　I've　sometimes　thought　it　was　a　wild　version　of　one　of　those　mutilation　stories。　　They　used　to　crop　criminals'　ears　in　the　sixteenth　century。〃

　　　　　〃I　hardly　think　it　was　that；〃　answered　the　little　man　thoughtfully；　〃but　it　is　not　outside　ordinary　science　or　natural　law　for　a　family　to　have　some　deformity　frequently　reappearingsuch　as　one　ear　bigger　than　the　other。〃

　　　　　The　big　librarian　had　buried　his　big　bald　brow　in　his　big　red　hands；　like　a　man　trying　to　think　out　his　duty。　　〃No；〃　he　groaned。　　〃You　do　the　man　a　wrong　after　all。　　Understand；　I've　no　reason　to　defend　him；　or　even　keep　faith　with　him。　　He　has　been　a　tyrant　to　me　as　to　everybody　else。　　Don't　fancy　because　you　see　him　sitting　here　that　he　isn't　a　great　lord　in　the　worst　sense　of　the　word。　　He　would　fetch　a　man　a　mile　to　ring　a　bell　a　yard　offif　it　would　summon　another　man　three　miles　to　fetch　a　matchbox　three　yards　off。　　He　must　have　a　footman　to　carry　his　walking…stick；　a　body　servant　to　hold　up　his　opera…glasses〃

　　　　　〃But　not　a　valet　to　brush　his　clothes；〃　cut　in　the　priest；　with　a　curious　dryness；　〃for　the　valet　would　want　to　brush　his　wig；　too。〃

　　　　　The　librarian　turned　to　him　and　seemed　to　forget　my　presence；　he　was　strongly　moved　and；　I　think；　a　little　heated　with　wine。　　〃I　don't　know　how　you　know　it；　Father　Brown；〃　he　said；　〃but　you　are　right。　　He　lets　the　whole　world　do　everything　for　himexcept　dress　him。　　And　that　he　insists　on　doing　in　a　literal　solitude　like　a　desert。　　Anybody　is　kicked　out　of　the　house　without　a　character　who　is　so　much　as　found　near　his　dressing…room　door。；

　　　　　〃He　seems　a　pleasant　old　pa