the lost road-第55章

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And　then　to　comfort　himself；　he　called　up　the　look　he　had　surprised
in　her　eyes　when　he　stood　holding　her　hands　in　his。　　He　clung　to　it；
as　a　drowning　man　will　clutch　even　at　a　piece　of　floating　seaweed。

When　he　tried　to　speak　he　found　his　voice　choked　and　stifled；　and
that　his　distress　was　evident；　he　knew　from　the　pity　he　read　in　the
eyes　of　Harris。

In　a　voice　strange　to　him；　he　heard　himself　saying：　〃Why　do　you
think　that？　You've　got　to　tell　me。　　I　have　a　right　to　know。　　This
morning　I　asked　Mrs。　Adair　to　marry　me。〃

The　consul　exclaimed　with　dismay　and　squirmed　unhappily。　　〃I
didn't　know；〃　he　protested。　　〃I　thought　I　was　in　time。　　I　ought　to
have　told　you　days　ago；　but〃

〃Tell　me　now；〃　commanded　Hemingway。　

〃I　know　it　in　a　thousand　ways；〃　began　Harris。

Hemingway　raised　his　eyes　hopefully。

But　the　consul　shook　his　head。　　〃But　to　convince　you；〃　he　went　on；
〃I　need　tell　you　only　one。　　The　thousand　other　proofs　are　looks　they
have　exchanged；　sentences　I　have　chanced　to　overhear；　and　that　each
of　them　unknown　to　the　other　has　told　me　of　little　happenings　and
incidents　which　I　found　were　common　to　both。　　Each　has　described
the　house　in　which　he　or　she　lived；　and　it　was　the　same　house。　　They
claim　to　come　from　different　cities　in　New　England；　they　came　from
the　same　city。　　They　claim〃

〃That　is　no　proof；〃　cried　Hemingway；　〃either　that　they　are　married；
or　that　the　man　is　a　criminal。〃

For　a　moment　Harris　regarded　the　other　in　silence。　　Then　he　said：
〃You're　making　it　very　hard　for　me。　　I　see　I've　got　to　show　you。
It's　kindest；　after　all；　to　cut　quick。〃　　He　leaned　farther　forward；
and　his　voice　dropped。　　Speaking　quickly；　he　said：

〃Last　summer　I　lived　outside　the　town　in　a　bungalow　on　the　Pearl
Road。　　Fearing's　house　was　next　to　mine。　　This　was　before　Mrs。
Adair　went　to　live　at　the　agency；　and　while　she　was　alone　in
another　bungalow　farther　down　the　road。　　I　was　ill　that　summer；
my　nerves　went　back　on　me。　　I　couldn't　sleep。　　I　used　to　sit　all　night
on　my　veranda　and　pray　for　the　sun　to　rise。　　From　where　I　sat　it　was
dark　and　no　one　could　see　me；　but　I　could　see　the　veranda　of　Fearing's
house　and　into　his　garden。　　And　night　after　night　I　saw　Mrs。　Adair
creep　out　of　Fearing's　house；　saw　him　walk　with　her　to　the　gate；　saw
him　in　the　shadow　of　the　bushes　take　her　in　his　arms；　and　saw　them
kiss。〃　　The　voice　of　the　consul　rose　sharply。　　〃No　one　knows　that　but
you　and　I；　and；〃　he　cried　defiantly；　〃it　is　impossible　for　us　to　believe
ill　of　Polly　Adair。　　The　easy　explanation　we　refuse。　　It　is　intolerable。
And　so　you　must　believe　as　I　believe；　that　when　she　visited　Fearing
by　night　she　went　to　him　because　she　had　the　right　to　go　to　him；
because　already　she　was　his　wife。　　And　now　when　every　one　here
believes　they　met　for　the　first　time　in　Zanzibar；　when　no　one　will　be
surprised　if　they　should　marry；　they　will　go　through　the　ceremony
again；　and　live　as　man　and　wife；　as　they　are；　as　they　were　before　he
fled　from　America！〃

Hemingway　was　seated　with　his　elbows　on　the　table　and　his　face　in
his　hands。　　He　was　so　long　silent　that　Harris　struck　the　table　roughly
with　his　palm。

〃Well；〃　he　demanded；　〃why　don't　you　speak？　Do　you　doubt　her？
Don't　you　believe　she　is　his　wife？〃

〃I　refuse　to　believe　anything　else！〃　said　Hemingway。　　He　rose；　and
slowly　and　heavily　moved　toward　the　door。　　〃And　I　will　not　trouble
them　any　more；〃　he　added。　　〃I'll　leave　at　sunrise　on　the　Eitel。〃

Harris　exclaimed　in　dismay；　but　Hemingway　did　not　hear　him。　　In
the　doorway　he　halted　and　turned　back。　　From　his　voice　all　trace
of　emotion　had　departed。　　〃Why；〃　he　asked　dully；　〃do　you　think
Fearing　is　a　fugitive？　Not　that　it　matters　to　her；　since　she　loves
him；　or　that　it　matters　to　me。　　Only　I　would　like　to　think　you　were
wrong。　　I　want　her　to　have　only　the　best。〃

Again　the　consul　moved　unhappily。

〃I　oughtn't　to　tell　you；〃　he　protested；　〃and　if　I　do　I　ought　to　tell　the
State　Department；　and　a　detective　agency　first。　　They　have　the　call。
They　want　him；　or　a　man　damned　like　him。〃　　His　voice　dropped　to　a
whisper。　　〃The　man　wanted　is　Henry　Brownell；　a　cashier　of　a　bank　in
Waltham；　Mass。；　thirty…five　years　of　age；　smooth…shaven；　college…bred；
speaking　with　a　marked　New　England　accent；　andand　with　other
marks　that　fit　Fearing　like　the　cover　on　a　book。　　The　department　and
the　Pinkertons　have　been　devilling　the　life　out　of　me　about　it　for　nine
months。　　They　are　positive　he　is　on　the　coast　of　Africa。　　I　put　them　off。
I　wasn't　sure。〃　

〃You've　been　protecting　them；〃　said　Hemingway。

〃I　wasn't　sure；〃　reiterated　Harris。　　〃And　if　I　were；　the　Pinkertons　can　do
their　own　sleuthing。　　The　man's　living　honestly　now；　anyway；　isn't　he？〃
he　demanded；　〃and　she　loves　him。　　At　least　she's　stuck　by　him。　　Why
should　I　punish　her？〃

His　tone　seemed　to　challenge　and　upbraid。

〃Good　God！〃　cried　the　other；　〃I'm　not　blaming　you！　I'd　be　proud　of　the
chance　to　do　as　much。　　I　asked　because　I'd　like　to　go　away　thinking　she's
content；　thinking　she's　happy　with　him。〃

〃Doesn't　it　look　as　though　she　were？〃　Harris　protested。　　〃She's　followed
himfollowed　him　half　around　the　globe。　　If　she'd　been　happier　away
from　him；　she'd　have　stayed　away　from　him。〃

So　intent　had　been　the　men　upon　their　talk　that　neither　had　noted
the　passing　of　the　minutes　or；　what　at　other　times　was　an　event
of　moment；　that　the　mail　steamer　had　distributed　her　mail　and
passengers；　and　when　a　servant　entered　bearing　lamps；　and　from
the　office　the　consul's　clerk　appeared　with　a　bundle　of　letters
from　the　Eitel；　both　were　taken　by　surprise。

〃So　late？〃　exclaimed　Hemingway。　　〃I　must　go。　　If　I'm　to　sail　with
the　Eitel　at　daybreak；　I've　little　time！〃

But　he　did　not　go。

As　he　advanced　toward　Harris　with　his　hand　outstretched　in　adieu；
the　face　of　the　consul　halted　him。　　With　the　letters；　the　clerk
had　placed　upon　the　table　a　visiting…card；　and　as　it　lay　in　the
circle　of　light　from　the　lamp　the　consul；　as　though　it　were　alive
and　menacing；　stared　at　it　in　fascination。　　Moving　stiffly；　he
turned　it　so　that　Hemingway　could　see。　　On　it　Hemingway　read；
〃George　S。　Sheyer；〃　and；　on　a　lower　line；　〃Representing　William
L。　Pinkerton。〃

To　the　woman　he　loved　the　calamity　they　dreaded　had　come；　and
Hemingway；　with　a　groan　of　dismay；　exclaimed　aloud：

〃It　is　the　end！〃

From　the　darkness　of　the　outer　office　a　man　stepped　softly　into
the　circle　of　the　lamp。　　They　could　see　his　figure　only　from　the
waist　down；　the　rest　of　him　was　blurred　in　shadows。

〃'It　is　the　end'？〃　he　repeated　inquiringly。　　He　spoke　the　phrase
with　peculiar　emphasis；　as　though　to　impress　it　upon　the　memory
of　the　two　others。　　His　voice　was　cool；　alert；　authoritative。　　〃The
end　of　what？〃　he　demanded　sharply。

The　question　was　most　difficult。　　In　the　silence　the　detective
moved　into　the　light。　　He　was　tall　and　strongly　built；　his　face
was　shrewd　and　intelligent。　　He　might　have　been　a　prosperous　man
of　business。

〃Which　of　you　is　the　consul？〃　he　asked。　　But　he　did　not　take　his
eyes　from　Hemingway。

〃I　am　the　consul；〃　said　Harris。　　But　still　the　detective　did　not
turn　from　Hemingway。

〃Why；〃　he　asked；　〃did　this　gentleman；　when　he　read　my　card；　say；
'It　is　the　end'？　The　end　of　what？　Has　anything　been　going　on　here
that　came　to　an　end　when　he　saw　my　card？〃

Disconcerted；　in　deep　embarrassment；　Harris　struggled　for　a　word。
But　his　distress　was　not　observed　by　the　detective。　　His　eyes；
suspicious　and　accusing；　still　were　fixed　upon　Hemingway；　and
under　their　scrutiny　Harris　saw　his　friend　slowly　retreat；　slowly
crumple　up　into　a　chair；　slowly　raise　his　hands　to　cover　his
face。　　As　though　in　a　nightmare；　he　heard　him　saying　savagely：

〃It　is　the　end　of　two　years　of　hell；　it　is　the　end　of　two　years
of　fear　and　agony！　Now　I　shall　have　peace。　　Now　I　shall　sleep！
I　thank　God　you've　come！　I　thank　God　I　can　go　back！〃

Harris　broke　the　spell　by　leaping　to　his　feet。　　He　sprang　between
the　two　men。

〃What　does　this　mean？〃　he　commanded。

Hemingway　raised　his　eyes　and　surveyed　him　steadily。

〃It　means；〃　he　said；　〃that　I　have　deceived　you；　Harristhat　I　am
the　man　you　told　me　of；　I　am　the　man　they　want。〃　　He　turned　to　the
officer。

〃I　fooled　him　for　four　months；〃　he　said。　　〃I　couldn't　fool　you　for
five　minutes。〃

The　eyes　of　the　detective　danced　with　sudden　excitement；　joy；　and
triumph。　　He　shot　an　eager　glance　from　Hemingway　to　the　consul。

〃This　man；〃　he　demanded；　〃who　is　he？〃

With　an　impatient　gesture　Hemingway　signified　Harris。

〃He　doesn't　know　who　I　am；〃　he　said。　　〃He　knows　me　as　Hemingway。
I　am　Henry　Brownell；　of　Waltham；　Mass。〃　　Again　his　face　sank　into
the　palms　of　his　hands。　　〃And　I'm　tiredtired；〃　he　moaned。　　〃I　am
sick　of　not　knowing；　sick　of　running　away。　　I　give　myself　up。〃

The　detective　breathed　a　sigh　of　relief　that　seemed　to　issue　from
his　soul。

〃My　God；〃　he　sighed；　〃you've　given　me　a　long　chase！　I've　had
eleven　months　of　you；　and　I'm　as　sick　of　this　as　you　are。〃　　He
recovered　himself　sharply。　　As　though　reciting　an　incantation；　he
addressed　Hemingway　in　crisp；　emotionless　notes。

〃Henry　Brownell；〃　he　chanted；　〃I　arrest　you　in　the　name　of　the
commonwealth　of　Massachusetts　for　the　robbery；　on　October　the
eleventh；　nineteen　hundred　and　nine；　of　the　Waltham　Title　and
Trust　Company。　　I　understand；〃　he　added；　〃you　waive　extradition
and　return　with　me　of　your　own　free　will？〃

With　his　face　still　in　his　hands；　Hemingway　murmured　assent。　　The
detective　stepped　briskly　and　uninvited　to　the　table　and　seated　himself。
He　was　beaming　with　triumph；　with　pleasurable　excitement。

〃I　want　to　send　a　message　home；　Mr。　Consul；〃　he　said。　　〃May　I　use
your　cable　blanks？〃

Harris　was　still　standing　in　the　centre　of　the　room　looking　down
upon　the　bowed　head　and　shoulders　of　Hemingway。　　Since；　in
amazement；　he　had　sprung　toward　him；　he　had　not　spoken。　　And
he　was　still　silent。

Inside　the　skull　of　Wilbur　Harris；　of　Iowa；　U。　S。　A。；　American
consul　to　Zanzibar；　East　Africa；　there　was　going　forward　a　mighty
struggle　that　was　not　fit　to　put　into　words。　　For　Harris　and　his
conscience　had　met　and　were　at　odds。　　One　way　or　the　other　the
fight　must　be　settled　at　once；　and　whatever　he　decided　must　be
for　all　time。　　This　he　understood；　and　as　his　sympathies　and
conscience　struggled　for　the　mastery　the　pen　of　the　detective；
scratching　at　racing　speed　across　the　paper；　warned　him　that　only
a　few　seconds　were　left　him　in　which　to　protest　or　else　to　forever
after　hold　his　peace。

So　realistic　had　been　the　acting　of　Hemingway　that　for　an　instant
Harris　himself　had　been　deceived。　　But　only　for　an　instant。　　With
his　knowledge　of　the　circumstances　he　saw　that　Hemingway　was　not
confessing　to　a　crime　of　his　own；　but　drawing　across　the　trail　of　the
real　criminal　the　convenient　and　useful　red　herring。　　He　knew　that
already　Hemingway　had　determined　to　sail　the　next　morning。　　In
leaving　Zanzibar　he　was　making　no　sacrifice。　　He　merely　was
carrying　out　his　original　plan；　and　by　taking　away　with　him　the
detective　was　giving　Brownell　and　his　wife　at　least　a　month　in
which　to　again　lose　themselves。

What　was　his　own　duty　he　could　not　determine。　　That　of　Hemingway
he　knew　nothing；　he　could　truthfully　testify。　　And　if　now　Hemi