pp.thegoldencompass-第7部分

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She　would　have　listened　eagerly　now　to　anyone　who　could　tell　her　about　Dust。　She　was　to　hear　a　great　deal　more　about　it　in　the　months　to　e；　and　eventually　she　would　know　more　about　Dust　than　anyone　in　the　world；　but　in　the　meantime；　there　was　all　the　rich　life　of　Jordan　still　being　lived　around　her。
　　And　in　any　case　there　was　something　else　to　think　about。　A　rumor　had　been　filtering　through　the　streets　for　some　weeks：　a　rumor　that　made　some　people　laugh　and　others　grow　silent；　as　some　people　scoff　at　ghosts　and　others　fear　them。　For　no　reason　that　anyone　could　imagine；　children　were　beginning　to　disappear。
　　
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　　It　would　happen　like　this。
　　East　along　the　great　highway　of　the　River　Isis；　thronged　with　slow…moving　brick　barges　and　asphalt　boats　and　corn　tankers；　way　down　past　Henley　and　Maidenhead　to　Teddington；　where　the　tide　from　the　German　Ocean　reaches；　and　further　down　still：　to　Mortlake；　past　the　house　of　the　great　magician　Dr。　Dee；　past　Falkeshall；　where　the　pleasure　gardens　spread　out　bright　with　fountains　and　banners　by　day；　with　tree　lamps　and　fireworks　by　night；　past　White　Hall　Palace；　where　the　king　holds　his　weekly　council　of　state；　past　the　Shot　Tower；　dropping　its　endless　drizzle　of　molten　lead　into　vats　of　murky　water；　further　down　still；　to　where　the　river；　wide　and　filthy　now；　swings　in　a　great　curve　to　the　south。
　　This　is　Limehouse；　and　here　is　the　child　who　is　going　to　disappear。
　　He　is　called　Tony　Makarios。　His　mother　thinks　he's　nine　years　old；　but　she　has　a　poor　memory　that　the　drink　has　rotted；　he　might　be　eight；　or　ten。　His　surname　is　Greek；　but　like　his　age；　that　is　a　guess　on　his　mother's　part；　because　he　looks　more　Chinese　than　Greek；　and　there's　Irish　and　Skraeling　and　Lascar　in　him　from　his　mother's　side　too。　Tony's　not　very　bright；　but　he　has　a　sort　of　clumsy　tenderness　that　sometimes　prompts　him　to　give　his　mother　a　rough　hug　and　plant　a　sticky　kiss　on　her　cheeks。　The　poor　woman　is　usually　too　fuddled　to　start　such　a　procedure　herself；　but　she　responds　warmly　enough；　once　she　realizes　what's　happening。
　　At　the　moment　Tony　is　hanging　about　the　market　in　Pie　Street。　He's　hungry。　It's　early　evening；　and　he　won't　get　fed　at　home。　He's　got　a　shilling　in　his　pocket　that　a　soldier　gave　him　for　taking　a　message　to　his　best　girl；　but　Tony's　not　going　to　waste　that　on　food；　when　you　can　pick　up　so　much　for　nothing。
　　So　he　wanders　through　the　market；　between　the　old…clothes　stalls　and　the　fortune…paper　stalls；　the　fruitmongers　and　the　fried…fish　seller；　with　his　little　daemon　on　his　shoulder；　a　sparrow；　watching　this　way　and　that；　and　when　a　stall　holder　and　her　daemon　are　both　looking　elsewhere；　a　brisk　chirp　sounds；　and　Tony's　hand　shoots　out　and　returns　to　his　loose　shirt　with　an　apple　or　a　couple　of　nuts；　and　finally　with　a　hot　pie。
　　The　stall　holder　sees　that；　and　shouts；　and　her　cat　daemon　leaps；　but　Tony's　sparrow　is　aloft　and　Tony　himself　halfway　down　the　street　already。　Curses　and　abuse　go　with　him；　but　not　far。　He　stops　running　at　the　steps　of　St。　Catherine's　Oratory；　where　he　sits　down　and　takes　out　his　steaming；　battered　prize；　leaving　a　trail　of　gravy　on　his　shirt。
　　And　he's　being　watched。　A　lady　in　a　long　yellow…red　fox…fur　coat；　a　beautiful　young　lady　whose　dark　hair　falls；　shining　delicately；　under　the　shadow　of　her　fur…lined　hood；　is　standing　in　the　doorway　of　the　oratory；　half　a　dozen　steps　above　him。　It　might　be　that　a　service　is　finishing；　for　light　es　from　the　doorway　behind　her；　an　organ　is　playing　inside；　and　the　lady　is　holding　a　jeweled　breviary。
　　Tony　knows　nothing　of　this。　His　face　contentedly　deep　in　the　pie；　his　toes　curled　inward　and　his　bare　soles　together；　he　sits　and　chews　and　swallows　while　his　daemon　bees　a　mouse　and　grooms　her　whiskers。
　　The　young　lady's　daemon　is　moving　out　from　beside　the　fox…fur　coat。　He　is　in　the　form　of　a　monkey；　but　no　ordinary　monkey：　his　fur　is　long　and　silky　and　of　the　most　deep　and　lustrous　gold。　With　sinuous　movements　he　inches　down　the　steps　toward　the　boy；　and　sits　a　step　above　him。
　　Then　the　mouse　senses　something；　and　bees　a　sparrow　again；　cocking　her　head　a　fraction　sideways；　and　hops　along　the　stone　a　step　or　two。
　　The　monkey　watches　the　sparrow；　the　sparrow　watches　the　monkey。
　　The　monkey　reaches　out　slowly。　His　little　hand　is　black；　his　nails　perfect　horny　claws；　his　movements　gentle　and　inviting。　The　sparrow　can't　resist。　She　hops　further；　and　further；　and　then；　with　a　little　flutter；　up　on　to　the　monkey's　hand。
　　The　monkey　lifts　her　up；　and　gazes　closely　at　her　before　standing　and　swinging　back　to　his　human；　taking　the　sparrow　daemon　with　him。　The　lady　bends　her　scented　head　to　whisper。
　　And　then　Tony　turns。　He　can't　help　it。
　　〃Ratter！〃　he　says；　half　in　alarm；　his　mouth　full。
　　The　sparrow　chirps。　It　must　be　safe。　Tony　swallows　his　mouthful　and　stares。
　　〃Hello；〃　says　the　beautiful　lady。　〃What's　your　name？〃
　　〃Tony。〃
　　〃Where　do　you　live；　Tony？〃
　　〃Clarice　Walk。〃
　　〃What's　in　that　pie？〃
　　〃Beefsteak。〃

　　〃Do　you　like　chocolatl？〃
　　〃Yeah！〃
　　〃As　it　happens；　I've　got　more　chocolatl　than　I　can　drink　myself。　Will　you　e　and　help　me　drink　it？〃
　　He's　lost　already。　He　was　lost　the　moment　his　slow…witted　daemon　hopped　onto　the　monkey's　hand。　He　follows　the　beautiful　young　lady　and　the　golden　monkey　down　Denmark　Street　and　along　to　Hangman's　Wharf；　and　down　King　George's　Steps　to　a　little　green　door　in　the　side　of　a　tall　warehouse。　She　knocks；　the　door　is　opened；　they　go　in；　the　door　is　closed。　Tony　will　never　e　out…at　least；　by　that　entrance；　and　he'll　never　see　his　mother　again。　She；　poor　drunken　thing；　will　think　he's　run　away；　and　when　she　remembers　him；　she'll　think　it　was　her　fault；　and　sob　her　sorry　heart　out。
　　
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　　Little　Tony　Makarios　wasn't　the　only　child　to　be　caught　by　the　lady　with　the　golden　monkey。　He　found　a　dozen　others　in　the　cellar　of　the　warehouse；　boys　and　girls；　none　older　than　twelve　or　so；　though　since　all　of　them　had　histories　like　his；　none　could　be　sure　of　their　age。　What　Tony　didn't　notice；　of　course；　was　the　factor　that　they　all　had　in　mon。　None　of　the　children　in　that　warm　and　steamy　cellar　had　reached　the　age　of　puberty。
　　The　kind　lady　saw　him　settled　on　a　bench　against　the　wall；　and　provided　by　a　silent　serving　woman　with　a　mug　of　chocolatl　from　the　saucepan　on　the　iron　stove。　Tony　ate　the　rest　of　his　pie　and　drank　the　sweet　hot　liquor　without　taking　much　notice　of　his　surroundings；　and　the　surroundings　took　little　notice　of　him：　he　was　too　small　to　be　a　threat；　and　too　stolid　to　promise　much　satisfaction　as　a　victim。
　　It　was　another　boy　who　asked　the　obvious　question。
　　〃Hey；　lady！　What　you　got　us　all　here　for？〃
　　He　was　a　tough…looking　wretch　with　dark　chocolatl　on　his　top　lip　and　a　gaunt　black　rat　for　a　daemon。　The　lady　was　standing　near　the　door；　talking　to　a　stout　man　with　the　air　of　a　sea　captain；　and　as　she　turned　to　answer；　she　looked　so　angelic　in　the　hissing　naphtha　light　that　all　the　children　fell　silent。
　　〃We　want　your　help；〃　she　said。　〃You　don't　mind　helping　us；　do　you？〃
　　No　one　could　say　a　word。　They　all　gazed；　suddenly　shy。　They　had　never　seen　a　lady　like　this；　she　was　so　gracious　and　sweet　and　kind　that　they　felt　they　hardly　deserved　their　good　luck；　and　whatever　she　asked；　they'd　give　it　gladly　so　as　to　stay　in　her　presence　a　little　longer。
　　She　told　them　that　they　were　going　on　a　voyage。　They　would　be　well　fed　and　warmly　clothed；　and　those　who　wanted　to　could　send　messages　back　to　their　families　to　let　them　know　they　were　safe。　Captain　Magnusson　would　take　them　on　board　his　ship　very　soon；　and　then　when　the　tide　was　right；　they'd　sail　out　to　sea　and　set　a　course　for　the　North。
　　Soon　those　few　who　did　want　to　send　a　message　to　what…ever　home　they　had　were　sitting　around　the　beautiful　lady　as　she　wrote　a　few　lines　at　their　dictation　and；　having　let　them　scratch　a　clumsy　X　at　the　foot　of　the　page；　folded　it　into　a　scented　envelope　and　wrote　the　address　they　told　her。　Tony　would　have　liked　to　send　something　to　his　mother；　but　he　had　a　realistic　idea　of　her　ability　to　read　it。　He　plucked　at　the　lady's　fox…fur　sleeve　and　whispered　that　he'd　like　her　to　tell　his　mum　where　he　was　going；　and　all；　and　she　bent　her　gracious　head　close　enough　to　his　malodorous　little　body　to　hear；　and　stroked　his　head　and　promised　to　pass　the　message　on。
　　Then　the　children　clustered　around　to　say　goodbye。　The　golden　monkey　stroked　all　their　daemons；　and　they　all　touched　the　fox　fur　for　luck；　or　as　if　they　were　drawing　some　strength　or　hope　or　goodness　out　of　the　lady；　and　she　bade　them　all　farewell　and　saw　them　in　the　care　of　the　bold　captain　on　board　a　steam　launch　at　the　jetty。　The　sky　was　dark　now；　the　river　a　mass　of　bobbing　lights。　The　lady　stood　on　the　jetty　and　waved　till　she　could　see　their　faces　no　more。
　　Then　she　turned　back　inside；　with　the　golden　monkey　nestled　in　her　breast；　and　threw　the　little　bundle　of　letters　into　the　furnace　before　leaving　the　way　she　had　e。
　　
　　Children　from　the　slums　were　easy　enough　to　entice　away；　but　eventually　people　noticed；　and　the　police　were　stirred　into　reluctant　action。　For　a　while　there　were　no　more　bewitchings。　But　a　rumor　had　been　born；　and　little　by　little　it　changed　and　grew　and　spread；　and　when　after　a　while　a　few　children　disappeared　in　Norwich；　and　then　Sheffield；　and　then　Manchester；　the　people　in　those　places　who'd　heard　of　the　disappearances　elsewhere　added　the　new　vanishings　to　the　story　and　gave　it　new　strength。
　　And　so　the　legend　grew　of　a　mysterious　group　of　enchanters　who　spirited　children　away。　Some　said　their　leader　was　a　beautiful　lady；　others　said　a　tall　man　with　red　eyes；　while　a　third　story　told　of　a　youth　who　laughed　and　sang　to　his　victims　so　that　they　followed　him　like　sheep。
　　As　for　where　they　took　these　lost　children；　no　two　stories　agreed。　Some　said　it　was　to　Hell；　under　the　ground；　to　Fairyland。　Others　said　to　a　farm　where　the　children　were　kept　and　fattened　for　the　table。　Others　said　that　the　children　were　kept　and　sold　as　slaves　to　rich　Tartars　。　。　。　。And　so　on。
　　But　one　thing　on　which　everyone　agreed　was　the　name　of　these　invisible　kidnappers。　They　had　to　have　a