pgw.uneasymoney-第26部分

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　'Some　fellow；　I　expect；'　he　said　at　last　brightly。　'Got　in；　don't　you　know；　and　then　his　pistol　went　off　by　accident。'
　'But　what　was　he　doing　with　a　pistol？'
　Bill　looked　a　little　puzzled　at　this。
　'Why；　he　would　have　a　pistol；　wouldn't　he？　I　thought　everybody　had　over　here。'
　Except　for　what　he　had　been　able　to　observe　during　the　brief　period　of　his　present　visit；　Lord　Dawlish's　knowledge　of　the　United　States　had　been　derived　from　the　American　plays　which　he　had　seen　in　London；　and　in　these　chappies　were　producing　revolvers　all　the　time。　He　had　got　the　impression　that　a　revolver　was　as　much　a　part　of　the　ordinary　well…dressed　man's　equipment　in　the　United　States　as　a　collar。
　'I　think　it　was　a　burglar；'　said　Elizabeth。　'There　have　been　a　lot　of　burglaries　down　here　this　summer。'
　'Would　a　burglar　burgle　the　outhouse？　Rummy　idea；　rather；　what？　Not　much　sense　in　it。　I　think　it　must　have　been　a　tramp。　I　expect　tramps　are　always　popping　about　and　nosing　into　all　sorts　of　extraordinary　places；　you　know。'
　'He　must　have　been　standing　quite　close　to　us　while　we　were　talking；'　said　Elizabeth；　with　a　shiver。
　Bill　looked　about　him。　Everywhere　was　peace。　No　sinister　sounds　peted　with　the　croaking　of　the　tree　frogs。　No　alien　figures　infested　the　landscape。　The　only　alien　figure；　that　of　Mr　Pickering；　was　wedged　into　a　bush；　invisible　to　the　naked　eye。
　'He's　gone　now；　at　any　rate；'　he　said。　'What　are　we　going　to　do？'
　Elizabeth　gave　another　shiver　as　she　glanced　hurriedly　at　the　deceased。　After　life's　fitful　fever　Eustace　slept　well；　but　he　was　not　looking　his　best。
　'Withit？'　she　said。
　'I　say；'　advised　Bill；　'I　shouldn't　call　him　〃it；〃　don't　you　know。　It　sort　of　rubs　it　in。　Why　not　〃him〃？　I　suppose　we　had　better　bury　him。　Have　you　a　spade　anywhere　handy？'
　'There　isn't　a　spade　on　the　place。'
　Bill　looked　thoughtful。
　'It　takes　weeks　to　make　a　hole　with　anything　else；　you　know；'　he　said。　'When　I　was　a　kid　a　friend　of　mine　bet　me　I　wouldn't　dig　my　way　through　to　China　with　a　pocket　knife。　It　was　an　awful　frost。　I　tried　for　a　couple　of　days；　and　broke　the　knife　and　didn't　get　anywhere　near　China。'　He　laid　the　remains　on　the　grass　and　surveyed　them　meditatively。　'This　is　what　fellows　always　run　up　against　in　the　detective　novelsWhat　to　Do　With　the　Body。　They　manage　the　murder　part　of　it　all　right；　and　then　stub　their　toes　on　the　body　problem。'
　'I　wish　you　wouldn't　talk　as　if　we　had　done　a　murder。'
　'I　feel　as　if　we　had；　don't　you？'
　'Exactly。'
　'I　read　a　story　once　where　a　fellow　slugged　somebody　and　melted　the　corpse　down　in　a　bath　tub　with　sulphuric'
　'Stop！　You're　making　me　sick！'
　'Only　a　suggestion；　don't　you　know；'　said　Bill　apologetically。
　'Well；　suggest　something　else；　then。'
　'How　about　leaving　him　on　Lady　Wetherby's　doorstep？　See　what　I　meanlet　them　take　him　in　with　the　morning　milk？　Or；　if　you　would　rather　ring　the　bell　and　go　away；　andyou　don't　think　much　of　it？'
　'I　simply　haven't　the　nerve　to　do　anything　so　risky。'
　'Oh；　I　would　do　it。　There　would　be　no　need　for　you　to　e。'
　'I　wouldn't　dream　of　deserting　you。'
　'That's　awfully　good　of　you。'
　'Besides；　I'm　not　going　to　be　left　alone　to…night　until　I　can　jump　into　my　little　white　bed　and　pull　the　clothes　over　my　head。　I'm　scared；　I'm　just　boneless　with　fright。　And　I　wouldn't　go　anywhere　near　Lady　Wetherby's　doorstep　with　it。'
　'Him。'
　'It's　no　use；　I　can't　think　of　it　as　〃him。〃　It's　no　good　asking　me　to。'
　Bill　frowned　thoughtfully。
　'I　read　a　story　once　where　two　chappies　wanted　to　get　rid　of　a　body。　They　put　it　inside　a　fellow's　piano。'
　'You　do　seem　to　have　read　the　most　horrible　sort　of　books。'
　'I　rather　like　a　bit　of　blood　with　my　fiction；'　said　Bill。　'What　about　this　piano　scheme　I　read　about？'
　'People　only　have　talking　machines　in　these　parts。'
　'I　read　a　story'
　'Let's　try　to　forget　the　stories　you've　read。　Suggest　something　of　your　own。'
　'Well；　could　we　dissect　the　little　chap？'
　'Dissect　him？'
　'And　bury　him　in　the　cellar；　you　know。　Fellows　do　it　to　their　wives。'
　Elizabeth　shuddered。
　'Try　again；'　she　said。
　'Well；　the　only　other　thing　I　can　think　of　is　to　take　him　into　the　woods　and　leave　him　there。　It's　a　pity　we　can't　let　Lady　Wetherby　know　where　he　is；　she　seems　rather　keen　on　him。　But　I　suppose　the　main　point　is　to　get　rid　of　him。'
　'I　know　how　we　can　do　both。　That's　a　good　idea　of　yours　about　the　woods。　They　are　part　of　Lady　Wetherby's　property。　I　used　to　wander　about　there　in　the　spring　when　the　house　was　empty。　There's　a　sort　of　shack　in　the　middle　of　them。　I　shouldn't　think　anybody　ever　went　thereit's　a　deserted　sort　of　place。　We　could　leave　him　there；　and　thenwell；　we　might　write　Lady　Wetherby　a　letter　or　something。　We　could　think　out　that　part　afterward。'
　'It's　the　best　thing　we've　thought　of。　You　really　want　to　e？'
　'If　you　attempt　to　leave　here　without　me　I　shall　scream。　Let's　be　starting。'
　Bill　picked　Eustace　up　by　his　convenient　tail。
　'I　read　a　story　once；'　he　said；　'where　a　fellow　was　lugging　a　corpse　through　a　wood；　when　suddenly'
　'Stop　right　there；'　said　Elizabeth　firmly。
　During　the　conversation　just　recorded　Dudley　Pickering　had　been　keeping　a　watchful　eye　on　Bill　and　Elizabeth　from　the　interior　of　a　bush。　His　was　not　the　ideal　position　for　espionage；　for　he　was　too　far　off　to　hear　what　they　said；　and　the　light　was　too　dim　to　enable　him　to　see　what　it　was　that　Bill　was　holding。　It　looked　to　Mr　Pickering　like　a　sack　or　bag　of　some　sort。　As　time　went　by　he　became　convinced　that　it　was　a　sack；　limp　and　empty　at　present；　but　destined　later　to　receive　and　bulge　with　what　he　believed　was　technically　known　as　the　swag。　When　the　two　objects　of　vigilance　concluded　their　lengthy　consultation；　and　moved　off　in　the　direction　of　Lady　Wetherby's　woods；　any　doubts　he　may　have　had　as　to　whether　they　were　the　criminals　he　had　suspected　them　of　being　were　dispersed。　The　whole　thing　worked　out　logically。
　The　Man；　having　spied　out　the　land　in　his　two　visits　to　Lady　Wetherby's　house；　was　now　about　to　break　in。　His　acplice　would　stand　by　with　the　sack。　With　a　beating　heart　Mr　Pickering　gripped　his　revolver　and　moved　round　in　the　shadow　of　the　shrubbery　till　he　came　to　the　gate；　when　he　was　just　in　time　to　see　the　guilty　couple　disappear　into　the　woods。　He　followed　them。　He　was　glad　to　get　on　the　move　again。　While　he　had　been　wedged　into　the　bush；　quite　a　lot　of　the　bush　had　been　wedged　into　him。　Something　sharp　had　pressed　against　the　calf　of　his　leg；　and　he　had　been　pinched　in　a　number　of　tender　places。　And　he　was　convinced　that　one　more　of　God's　unpleasant　creatures　had　got　down　the　back　of　his　neck。
　Dudley　Pickering　moved　through　the　wood　as　snakily　as　he　could。　Nature　had　shaped　him　more　for　stability　than　for　snakiness；　but　he　did　his　best。　He　tingled　with　the　excitement　of　the　chase；　and　endeavoured　to　creep　through　the　undergrowth　like　one　of　those　intelligent　Indians　of　whom　he　had　read　so　many　years　before　in　the　pages　of　Mr　Fenimore　Cooper。　In　those　days　Dudley　Pickering　had　not　thought　very　highly　of　Fenimore　Cooper；　holding　his　work　deficient　in　serious　and　scientific　interest；　but　now　it　seemed　to　him　that　there　had　been　something　in　the　man　after　all；　and　he　resolved　to　get　some　of　his　books　and　go　over　them　again。　He　wished　he　had　read　them　more　carefully　at　the　time；　for　they　doubtless　contained　much　information　and　many　hints　which　would　have　e　in　handy　just　now。　He　seemed；　for　example；　to　recall　characters　in　them　who　had　the　knack　of　going　through　forests　without　letting　a　single　twig　crack　beneath　their　feet。　Probably　the　author　had　told　how　this　was　done。　In　his　unenlightened　state　it　was　beyond　Mr　Pickering。　The　wood　seemed　carpeted　with　twigs。　Whenever　he　stepped　he　trod　on　one；　and　whenever　he　trod　on　one　it　cracked　beneath　his　feet。　There　were　moments　when　he　felt　gloomily　that　he　might　just　as　well　be　firing　a　machine…gun。
　Bill；　meanwhile；　Elizabeth　following　close　behind　him；　was　ploughing　his　way　onward。　From　time　to　time　he　would　turn　to　administer　some　encouraging　remark；　for　it　had　e　home　to　him　by　now　that　encouraging　remarks　were　what　she　needed　very　much　in　the　present　crisis　of　her　affairs。　She　was　showing　him　a　new　and　hitherto　unsuspected　side　of　her　character。　The　Elizabeth　whom　he　had　knownthe　valiant；　self…reliant　Elizabethhad　gone；　leaving　in　her　stead　someone　softer；　more　appealing；　more　approachable。　It　was　this　that　was　filling　him　with　strange　emotions　as　he　led　the　way　to　their　destination。
　He　was　being　more　and　more　conscious　of　a　sense　of　being　drawn　very　near　to　Elizabeth；　of　a　desire　to　soothe；　fort；　and　protect　her。　It　was　as　if　to…night　he　had　discovered　the　missing　key　to　a　puzzle　or　the　missing　element　in　some　chemical　bination。　Like　most　big　men；　his　mind　was　essentially　a　protective　mind；　weakness　drew　out　the　best　that　was　in　him。　And　it　was　only　to…night　that　Elizabeth　had　given　any　sign　of　having　any　weakness　in　her　position。　That　clear　vision　which　had　e　to　him　on　his　long　walk　came　again　now；　that　vivid　conviction　that　she　was　the　only　girl　in　the　world　for　him。
　He　was　debating　within　himself　the　advisability　of　trying　to　find　words　to　express　this　sentiment；　when　Mr　Pickering；　the　modern　Chingachgook；　trod　on　another　twig　in　the　background　and　Elizabeth　stopped　abruptly　with　a　little　cry。
　'What　was　that？'　she　demanded。
　Bill　had　heard　a　noise　too。　It　was　impossible　to　be　within　a　dozen　yards　of　Mr　Pickering；　when　on　the　trail；　and　not　hear　a　noise。　The　suspicion　that　someone　was　following　them　did　not　e　to　him；　for　he　was　a　man　rather　of　mon　sense　than　of　imagination；　and　mon　sense　was　asking　him　bluntly　why　the　deuce　anybody　should　want　to　tramp　after　them　through　a　wood　at　that　time　of　night。　He　caught　the　note　of　panic　in　Elizabeth's　voice；　and　was　soothing　her。
　'It　was　just　a　branch　breaking。　You　hear　all　sorts　of　rum　noises　in　a　wood。'
　'I　believe　it's　the　man　with　the　pistol　following　us！'
　'Nonsense。　Why　should　he？　Silly　thing　to　do！'　He　spoke　almost　severely。
　'Look！'　cried　Elizabeth。
　'What？'
　'I　saw　someone　dodge　behind　that　tree。'
　'You　mustn't　let　yourself　imagine　things。　Buck　up！'
　'I　can't　buck　up。　I'm　scared。'
　'Which　tree　did　you　think　you　saw　someone　dodge　b