anner.themummy-第13部分

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e　of　Sharples's　heels　on　the　pavement　behind　him。　And　no　one　ahead　in　the　misty　dark；　no　one　behind；　that　little　seam　of　light　from　the　door　of　Flint's　no　longer　visible。
　
　He　could　hear　Sharpies　drawing　close　to　him。　Into　the　pocket　of　his　coat　he　reached。　His　knife。　Slowly　he　drew　it　out；　opened　the　blade；　and　gripped　the　handle　tight。
　
　Suddenly　he　felt　the　pressure　of　Sharpies　against　his　back。
　
　〃Seems　to　me　you　need　a　little　lesson　in　paying　your　debts；　sir；〃　　the　bastard　said　to　him。
　
　Sharples's　hand　came　down　on　his　shoulder；　but　Henry　turned　swiftly；　forcing　his　knee　against　Sharpies　and　knocking　him　off　balance　a　step。　For　the　brilliant　silk　of　his　vest　Henry　aimed；　where　the　knife　might　go　in　between　the　ribs；　with　no　impediment。　And　to　his　astonishment　he　felt　it　sink　into　the　man's　chest；　and　saw　the　white　of　Sharples's　teeth　as　he　opened　his　mouth　in　a　dry　scream。
　
　〃Bloody　fool！　I　told　you　to　leave　me　alone！〃　　He　drew　out　the　knife　and　stabbed　the　man　again。　He　heard　the　silk　rip　this　time；　and　he　stepped　back；　trembling　violently　all　over。
　
　The　man　took　a　few　faltering　steps。　Then　he　fell　down　on　his　knees。　Gently　he　pitched　forward；　shoulders　hunched；　and　then　softly　heaved　to　one　side；　his　body　going　limp　and　loose　on　the　pavement。
　
　Henry　couldn't　see　his　face　in　the　dark。　He　saw　only　the　lifeless　form　sprawled　there。　The　bitter　cold　of　the　night　paralyzed　him。　His　heart　thudded　in　his　ears　as　it　had　in　the　chamber　in　Egypt　when　he　had　gazed　down　at　Lawrence　lying　dead　on　the　floor。
　
　Well；　damn　him！　He　shouldn't　have　tried　that　with　me！　The　rage　choked　him。　He　could　not　move　his　right　hand；　so　cold　it　was；　in　spite　of　the　glove；　the　knife　clutched　in　it。　Carefully；　he　lifted　his　left　hand；　and　closed　the　knife　and　put　it　away。
　
　He　glanced　from　right　to　left。　Darkness；　silence。　Only　the　faraway　rumble　of　a　motor　car　on　a　distant　street。　Water　dripping　somewhere；　as　if　from　a　broken　gutter。　And　the　sky　above　lightening　ever　so　faintly…the　color　of　slate。
　
　He　knelt　down　in　the　thinning　darkness。　He　reached　out　for　that　gleaming　silk　again；　and　careful　not　to　touch　the　great　dark　wet　spot　spreading　there；　he　reached　under　the　lapel　of　the　coat。　The　man's　wallet。　Fat；　full　of　money！
　
　He　did　not　even　examine　the　contents。　Instead　he　slipped　it　in　the　same　pocket　with　the　knife。　And　then　he　turned　on　his　heel；　lifted　his　chin　and　walked　off　with　crisp　loud　steps。　He　even　began　to　whistle。
　
　Later；　when　he　was　fortably　settled　in　the　back　of　a　cab；　he　drew　the　wallet　out。　Three　hundred　pounds。　Well；　that　was　not　bad。　But　as　he　stared　down　at　the　wad　of　dirty　bills；　a　panic　seized　him。　It　seemed　he　couldn't　speak　or　move；　and　when　he　looked　out　the　little　window　of　the　hansom；　he　saw　only　the　soiled　grey　sky　over　the　roofs　of　the　dreary　tenements；　and　there　seemed　nothing　he　wanted；　or　could　want；　or　could　ever　have　that　would　alleviate　the　hopelessness　he　felt。
　
　Three　hundred　pounds。　But　he　had　not　killed　the　man　for　that。　Why；　who　could　say　he　had　killed　anyone！　His　uncle　Lawrence　had　died　of　a　stroke　in　Cairo。　And　as　for　Sharpies；　a　despicable　moneylender　he　had　made　the　acquaintance　of　in　Flint's　one　evening；　well；　one　of　Sharples's　confederates　had　killed　him。　Sneaked　up　on　him　in　a　dark　street　and　sunk　a　knife　in　his　ribs。
　
　Of　course　that's　what　had　happened。　Who　would　connect　him　to　these　sordid　affairs？
　
　He　was　Henry　Stratford；　vice　chairman　of　Stratford　Shipping；　a　member　of　a　distinguished　family　soon　to　be　connected　by　marriage　to　the　Earl　of　Rutherford。　No　one　would　dare。。。
　
　And　he　would　call　now　on　his　cousin。　Explain　that　he　was　a　little　down　on　his　luck。　And　she　would　surely　e　up　with　a　fortable　sum；　three　times　perhaps　what　he　held　in　his　hand；　because　she　would　understand　it　was　only　temporary；　these　losses。　And　it　would　be　a　great　relief　to　make　them　right。
　
　His　cousin；　his　only　sister。　Once　they　had　loved　each　other；　Julie　and　he。　Loved　each　other　as　only　a　sister　and　a　brother　can。　He　would　remind　her。　She　wouldn't　give　him　any　trouble；　and　then　he　could　rest　for　a　little　while。
　
　That　was　the　worst　part　of　it　of　late。　He　couldn't　rest。
　
　JULIE　PADDED　softly　down　the　stairs　in　her　slippers；　11　the　full　folds　of　her　lace　peignoir　gathered　in　one　hand　so　that　she　did　not　trip；　her　brown　hair　in　loose　waves　over　her　shoulders　and　down　her　back。
　
　She　saw　the　sun　before　she　saw　anything　else；　as　she　entered　the　library…the　great　blessed　flood　of　yellow　light　filling　the　glass　conservatory　beyond　the　open　doors；　a　dazzle　amid　the　ferns；　and　in　the　dancing　water　of　the　fountain　and　in　the　great　mesh　of　green　leaves　curling　beneath　the　glass　ceiling。
　
　Long　slanting　rays　fell　on　the　mask　of　Ramses　the　Damned　in　its　shadowy　corner；　on　the　dark　colours　of　the　Oriental　carpet；　and　on　the　mummy　himself　as　he　stood　upright　in　his　open　case；　the　tightly　wrapped　face　and　limbs　being　golden　in　the　haze；　golden　as　desert　sand　at　midday。
　
　The　room　lightened　before　Julie's　eyes。　The　sun　exploded　suddenly　on　the　gold　Cleopatra　coins　on　their　bed　of　velvet。　It　shimmered　on　the　smooth　marble　bust　of　Cleopatra　with　its　demure；　half…lidded　gaze。　It　caught　the　translucent　alabaster　of　the　long　row　of　jars。　It　gleamed　on　tiny　bits　and　pieces　of　old　gold　throughout　the　room；　and　on　the　gilded　titles　of　the　many　leather…bound　books。　It　struck　the　deep…graven　name〃　Lawrence　Stratford〃　　written　on　his　velvet…covered　diary　that　lay　on　the　desk。
　
　Julie　stood　still；　feeling　the　warmth　surround　her。　The　dark　musty　smell　was　fading。　And　the　mummy；　it　seemed　to　move　in　the　brightening　light；　as　if　responding　to　the　heat。　To　sigh　almost　like　a　flower　opening。　What　a　tantalizing　illusion。　Of　course　it　had　not　moved　at　all；　yet　it　did　seem　fuller；　somehow；　its　powerful　shoulders　and　arms　more　rounded；　its　fingers　poised　as　if　alive。
　
　〃Ramses　。。。〃　　she　whispered。
　
　There　came　that　sound　again；　the　sound　that　had　startled　her　the　night　before。　But　no；　it　wasn't　a　sound；　not　really。　Just　the　breath　of　this　great　house。　Of　timbers　and　plaster　in　the　warmth　of　the　morning。　She　closed　her　eyes　for　a　moment。　And　then　Rita's　step　sounded　in　the　hall。　Of　course；　it　had　been　Rita　all　along　。。。　the　sound　of　another　very　near…heartbeat；　breath；　the　subtle　shift　of　garments　in　motion。
　
　〃Well；　miss；　I　tell　you　I　don't　like　that　thing　in　the　house；〃　　Rita　said。　Was　that　her　feather　duster　softly　brushing　the　living　room　furniture？
　
　Julie　didn't　turn　around　to　look。　She　looked　at　the　mummy。　She　approached　it　now　and　looked　up　into　its　face。　Good　Lord；　she　had　not　really　seen　it　last　night。　Not　as　she　was　seeing　it　now　in　this　great　warm　glare。　It　had　been　a　living　breathing　man；　this　thing；　locked　forever　in　its　cerements。
　
　〃I　do　declare；　miss；　it　gives　me　the　shivers。〃
　
　〃Don't　be　absurd；　Rita。　Bring　me　some　coffee；　like　a　good　girl。〃　　She　drew　even　closer　to　the　thing。　After　all；　there　was　no　one　here　to　stop　her。　She　could　touch　it　if　she　wished。　She　listened　for　Rita's　retreat。　Heard　the　kitchen　door　open　and　close。　Then　she　did　reach　out　and　touch　the　linen　bandages　that　covered　the　right　arm。　Too　soft；　too　fragile。　And　hot　from　the　sun！
　
　〃No；　this　is　not　good　for　you；　is　it？〃　　she　asked；　glancing　up　at　the　thing's　eyes　as　if　it　were　rude　to　do　otherwise。〃　But　I　don't　want　them　to　take　you　away。　I　'11　miss　you　when　you're　no　longer　here。　But　I　won't　let　them　cut　you　open。　That　much；　I　promise　you。〃
　
　Was　that　dark　brown　hair　she　saw　beneath　the　bandages　that　surrounded　the　skull？　It　seemed　there　was　a　great　thickness　of　it　there；　bound　painfully　tight　to　the　bones；　giving　a　horrid　effect　of　baldness。　But　it　was　the　overall　spectacle　that　really　caught　her　and　carried　her　away　now　from　the　details。　The　thing　had　a　distinct　personality；　rather　like　a　fine　sculpture　would　have。　Tall；　broad…shouldered　Ramses　with　his　head　bowed；　and　his　hands　in　that　attitude　of　resignation。
　
　The　words　in　the　diary　came　back　to　her　with　painful　clarity。〃　You　are　immortal；　my　love；〃　　she　said。〃　My　father's　seen　to　it。　You　may　curse　us　for　opening　your　tomb；　but　thousands　will　e　to　see　you；　thousands　will　eventually　speak　your　name。　You　will　live　forever。　。。。〃
　
　So　strange　that　she　was　on　the　verge　of　tears。　Father　dead。　And　this　which　had　meant　so　much　to　him。　Father　in　an　unmarked　grave　in　Cairo　as　he　had　wanted　it　to　be；　and　Ramses　the　Damned　the　toast　of　London。
　
　Suddenly　she　was　startled　by　Henry's　voice。
　
　〃You're　talking　to　that　damned　thing；　just　the　way　your　father　did。〃
　
　〃Good　Lord；　I　didn't　know　you　were　here！　Where　did　you　e　from？〃
　
　He　stood　in　the　archway　between　the　two　drawing　rooms；　his　long　serge　cape　hanging　loosely　from　one　shoulder。　Unshaven；　very　likely　drunk。　And　that　smile　of　his。　It　was　chilling。
　
　〃I'm　supposed　to　be　looking　out　for　you；〃　　he　said；〃　remember？〃
　
　〃Yes；　of　course。　I'm　sure　you　are　absolutely　delighted。〃
　
　〃Where's　the　key　to　the　drinks　cupboard？　It's　locked；　you　know。　Why　the　devil　does　Oscar　do　that？〃
　
　〃Oscar's　gone　till　tomorrow。　Perhaps　you　should　have　coffee；　besides。　That　would　do　you　the　most　good。〃
　
　〃Would　it　now；　my　dear？〃　　He　removed　the　cape　as　he　walked　arrogantly　towards　her；　his　eyes　sweeping　the　Egyptian　room　as　if　he　did　not　entirely　approve　of　it。〃　You　never　let　me　down；　do　you？〃　　he　asked；　and　flashed　that　bitter　smile　again。〃　My　childhood　playmate；　my　cousin；　my　little　sister！　I　loathe　coffee。　I　want　some　port　or　sherry。〃
　
　〃Well；　I　have　none；〃　　she　said。〃　Go　on　upstairs　and　sleep　it　off；　why　don't　you？〃
　
　Rita　had　e　to　the　door；　was　waiting　as　if　for　instructions。
　
　〃Coffee　for　Mr。　Stratford；　too；　please；　Rita；〃　　Julie　said；　because　he　hadn't　moved。　It　was　perfectly　clear　he　wasn't　going　anywhere。　He　was　staring　at　the　mummy；　in　fact；　as　if　it　had　startled　him。〃　Did　Father　really　speak　to　him　like　that？〃　　she　asked。〃　The　way　I　was　doing？〃
　
　He　didn't　immediately　answer。　He　turned　away；　and　moved　to　inspect　the　alabaster　jars；　even　his　posture　slouching　and　arrogant。
　
　〃Yes；　talked　to　it　as　if　it　could　talk　back。　And　Latin　of　all　things。　If　you　ask　me；　your　father　had　been