the man who knew too much-第8章

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he　way　in　which　he　was　led　to　study　such　problems　as　those　of　Prince　Michael。　Horne　Fisher　was　fifteen　years　older；　his　thin　hair　had　faded　to　frontal　baldness；　and　his　long；　thin　hands　dropped　less　with　affectation　and　more　with　fatigue。　And　he　told　the　story　of　the　Irish　adventure　of　his　youth；　because　it　recorded　the　first　occasion　on　which　he　had　ever　come　in　contact　with　crime；　or　discovered　how　darkly　and　how　terribly　crime　can　be　entangled　with　law。

〃Hooker　Wilson　was　the　first　criminal　I　ever　knew；　and　he　was　a　policeman；〃　explained　Fisher；　twirling　his　wine　glass。　〃And　all　my　life　has　been　a　mixed…up　business　of　the　sort。　He　was　a　man　of　very　real　talent；　and　perhaps　genius；　and　well　worth　studying；　both　as　a　detective　and　a　criminal。　His　white　face　and　red　hair　were　typical　of　him；　for　he　was　one　of　those　who　are　cold　and　yet　on　fire　for　fame；　and　he　could　control　anger；　but　not　ambition。　He　swallowed　the　snubs　of　his　superiors　in　that　first　quarrel；　though　he　boiled　with　resentment；　but　when　he　suddenly　saw　the　two　heads　dark　against　the　dawn　and　framed　in　the　two　windows；　he　could　not　miss　the　chance；　not　only　of　revenge；　but　of　the　removal　of　the　two　obstacles　to　his　promotion。　He　was　a　dead　shot　and　counted　on　silencing　both；　though　proof　against　him　would　have　been　hard　in　any　case。　But；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　he　had　a　narrow　escape；　in　the　case　of　Nolan；　who　lived　just　long　enough　to　say；　'Wilson'　and　point。　We　thought　he　was　summoning　help　for　his　comrade；　but　he　was　really　denouncing　his　murderer。　After　that　it　was　easy　to　throw　down　the　ladder　above　him　（for　a　man　up　a　ladder　cannot　see　clearly　what　is　below　and　behind）　and　to　throw　himself　on　the　ground　as　another　victim　of　the　catastrophe。

〃But　there　was　mixed　up　with　his　murderous　ambition　a　real　belief；　not　only　in　his　own　talents；　but　in　his　own　theories。　He　did　believe　in　what　he　called　a　fresh　eye；　and　he　did　want　scope　for　fresh　methods。　There　was　something　in　his　view；　but　it　failed　where　such　things　commonly　fail；　because　the　fresh　eye　cannot　see　the　unseen。　It　is　true　about　the　ladder　and　the　scarecrow；　but　not　about　the　life　and　the　soul；　and　he　made　a　bad　mistake　about　what　a　man　like　Michael　would　do　when　he　heard　a　woman　scream。　All　Michael's　very　vanity　and　vainglory　made　him　rush　out　at　once；　he　would　have　walked　into　Dublin　Castle　for　a　lady's　glove。　Call　it　his　pose　or　what　you　will；　but　he　would　have　done　it。　What　happened　when　he　met　her　is　another　story；　and　one　we　may　never　know；　but　from　tales　I've　heard　since；　they　must　have　been　reconciled。　Wilson　was　wrong　there；　but　there　was　something；　for　all　that；　in　his　notion　that　the　newcomer　sees　most；　and　that　the　man　on　the　spot　may　know　too　much　to　know　anything。　He　was　right　about　some　things。　He　was　right　about　me。〃

〃About　you？〃　asked　Harold　March　in　some　wonder。

〃I　am　the　man　who　knows　too　much　to　know　anything；　or；　at　any　rate；　to　do　anything；〃　said　Horne　Fisher。　〃I　don't　mean　especially　about　Ireland。　I　mean　about　England。　I　mean　about　the　whole　way　we　are　governed；　and　perhaps　the　only　way　we　can　be　governed。　You　asked　me　just　now　what　became　of　the　survivors　of　that　tragedy。　Well；　Wilson　recovered　and　we　managed　to　persuade　him　to　retire。　But　we　had　to　pension　that　damnable　murderer　more　magnificently　than　any　hero　who　ever　fought　for　England。　I　managed　to　save　Michael　from　the　worst；　but　we　had　to　send　that　perfectly　innocent　man　to　penal　servitude　for　a　crime　we　know　he　never　committed；　and　it　was　only　afterward　that　we　could　connive　in　a　sneakish　way　at　his　escape。　And　Sir　Walter　Carey　is　Prime　Minister　of　this　country；　which　he　would　probably　never　have　been　if　the　truth　had　been　told　of　such　a　horrible　scandal　in　his　department。　It　might　have　done　for　us　altogether　in　Ireland；　it　would　certainly　have　done　for　him。　And　he　is　my　father's　old　friend；　and　has　always　smothered　me　with　kindness。　I　am　too　tangled　up　with　the　whole　thing；　you　see；　and　I　was　certainly　never　born　to　set　it　right。　You　look　distressed；　not　to　say　shocked；　and　I'm　not　at　all　offended　at　it。　Let　us　change　the　subject　by　all　means；　if　you　like。　What　do　you　think　of　this　Burgundy？　It's　rather　a　discovery　of　mine；　like　the　restaurant　itself。〃

And　he　proceeded　to　talk　learnedly　and　luxuriantly　on　all　the　wines　of　the　world；　on　which　subject；　also；　some　moralists　would　consider　that　he　knew　too　much。



III。　THE　SOUL　OF　THE　SCHOOLBOY

A　large　map　of　London　would　be　needed　to　display　the　wild　and　zigzag　course　of　one　day's　journey　undertaken　by　an　uncle　and　his　nephew；　or；　to　speak　more　truly；　of　a　nephew　and　his　uncle。　For　the　nephew；　a　schoolboy　on　a　holiday；　was　in　theory　the　god　in　the　car；　or　in　the　cab；　tram；　tube；　and　so　on；　while　his　uncle　was　at　most　a　priest　dancing　before　him　and　offering　sacrifices。　To　put　it　more　soberly；　the　schoolboy　had　something　of　the　stolid　air　of　a　young　duke　doing　the　grand　tour；　while　his　elderly　relative　was　reduced　to　the　position　of　a　courier；　who　nevertheless　had　to　pay　for　everything　like　a　patron。　The　schoolboy　was　officially　known　as　Summers　Minor；　and　in　a　more　social　manner　as　Stinks；　the　only　public　tribute　to　his　career　as　an　amateur　photographer　and　electrician。　The　uncle　was　the　Rev。　Thomas　Twyford；　a　lean　and　lively　old　gentleman　with　a　red；　eager　face　and　white　hair。　He　was　in　the　ordinary　way　a　country　clergyman；　but　he　was　one　of　those　who　achieve　the　paradox　of　being　famous　in　an　obscure　way；　because　they　are　famous　in　an　obscure　world。　In　a　small　circle　of　ecclesiastical　archaeologists；　who　were　the　only　people　who　could　even　understand　one　another's　discoveries；　he　occupied　a　recognized　and　respectable　place。　And　a　critic　might　have　found　even　in　that　day's　journey　at　least　as　much　of　the　uncle's　hobby　as　of　the　nephew's　holiday。

His　original　purpose　had　been　wholly　paternal　and　festive。　But；　like　many　other　intelligent　people；　he　was　not　above　the　weakness　of　playing　with　a　toy　to　amuse　himself；　on　the　theory　that　it　would　amuse　a　child。　His　toys　were　crowns　and　miters　and　croziers　and　swords　of　state；　and　he　had　lingered　over　them；　telling　himself　that　the　boy　ought　to　see　all　the　sights　of　London。　And　at　the　end　of　the　day；　after　a　tremendous　tea；　he　rather　gave　the　game　away　by　winding　up　with　a　visit　in　which　hardly　any　human　boy　could　be　conceived　as　taking　an　interestan　underground　chamber　supposed　to　have　been　a　chapel；　recently　excavated　on　the　north　bank　of　the　Thames；　and　containing　literally　nothing　whatever　but　one　old　silver　coin。　But　the　coin；　to　those　who　knew；　was　more　solitary　and　splendid　than　the　Koh…i…noor。　It　was　Roman；　and　was　said　to　bear　the　head　of　St。　Paul；　and　round　it　raged　the　most　vital　controversies　about　the　ancient　British　Church。　It　could　hardly　be　denied；　however；　that　the　controversies　left　Summers　Minor　comparatively　cold。

Indeed；　the　things　that　interested　Summers　Minor；　and　the　things　that　did　not　interest　him；　had　mystified　and　amused　his　uncle　for　several　hours。　He　exhibited　the　English　schoolboy's　startling　ignorance　and　startling　knowledgeknowledge　of　some　special　classification　in　which　he　can　generally　correct　and　confound　his　elders。　He　considered　himself　entitled；　at　Hampton　Court　on　a　holiday；　to　forget　the　very　names　of　Cardinal　Wolsey　or　William　of　Orange；　but　he　could　hardly　be　dragged　from　some　details　about　the　arrangement　of　the　electric　bells　in　the　neighboring　hotel。　He　was　solidly　dazed　by　Westminster　Abbey；　which　is　not　so　unnatural　since　that　church　became　the　lumber　room　of　the　larger　and　less　successful　statuary　of　the　eighteenth　century。　But　he　had　a　magic　and　minute　knowledge　of　the　Westminster　omnibuses；　and　indeed　of　the　whole　omnibus　system　of　London；　the　colors　and　numbers　of　which　he　knew　as　a　herald　knows　heraldry。　He　would　cry　out　against　a　momentary　confusion　between　a　light…green　Paddington　and　a　dark…green　Bayswater　vehicle；　as　his　uncle　would　at　the　identification　of　a　Greek　ikon　and　a　Roman　image。

〃Do　you　collect　omnibuses　like　stamps？〃　asked　his　uncle。　〃They　must　need　a　rather　large　album。　Or　do　you　keep　them　in　your　locker？〃

〃I　keep　them　in　my　head；〃　replied　the　nephew；　with　legitimate　firmness。

〃It　does　you　credit；　I　admit；〃　replied　the　clergyman。　〃I　suppose　it　were　vain　to　ask　for　what　purpose　you　have　learned　that　out　of　a　thousand　things。　There　hardly　seems　to　be　a　career　in　it；　unless　you　could　be　permanently　on　the　pavement　to　prevent　old　ladies　getting　into　the　wrong　bus。　Well；　we　must　get　out　of　this　one；　for　this　is　our　place。　I　want　to　show　you　what　they　call　St。　Paul's　Penny。〃

〃Is　it　like　St。　Paul's　Cathedral？〃　asked　the　youth　with　resignation；　as　they　alighted。

At　the　entrance　their　eyes　were　arrested　by　a　singular　figure　evidently　hovering　there　with　a　similar　anxiety　to　enter。　It　was　that　of　a　dark；　thin　man　in　a　long　black　robe　rather　like　a　cassock；　but　the　black　cap　on　his　head　was　of　too　strange　a　shape　to　be　a　biretta。　It　suggested；　rather；　some　archaic　headdress　of　Persia　or　Babylon。　He　had　a　curious　black　beard　appearing　only　at　the　corners　of　his　chin；　and　his　large　eyes　were　oddly　set　in　his　face　like　the　flat　decorative　eyes　painted　in　old　Egyptian　profiles。　Before　they　had　gathered　more　than　a　general　impression　of　him；　he　had　dived　into　the　doorway　that　was　their　own　destination。

Nothing　could　be　seen　above　ground　of　the　sunken　sanctuary　except　a　strong　wooden　hut；　of　the　sort　recently　run　up　for　many　military　and　official　purposes；　the　wooden　floor　of　which　was　indeed　a　mere　platform　over　the　excavated　cavity　below。　A　soldier　stood　as　a　sentry　outside；　and　a　superior　soldier；　an　Anglo…Indian　officer　of　distinction；　sat　writing　at　the　desk　inside。　Indeed；　the　sightseers　soon　found　that　this　particular　sight　was　surrounded　with　the　most　extraordinary　precautions。　I　have　compared　the　silver　coin　to　the　Koh…i…noor；　and　in　one　sense　it　was　even　conventionally　comparable；　since　by　a　historical　accident　it　was　at　one　time　almost　counted　among　the　Crown　jewels；　or　at　least　the　Crown　relics；　until　one　of　the　royal　princes　publicly　restored　it　to　the　shrine　to　which　it　was　supposed　to　belong。　Other　causes　combined　to　concentrate　official　vigilance　upon　it；　there　had　been　a　scare　about　spies　carrying　explosives　in　small　objects；　and　one　of　those　experimental　orders　which　pass　like　waves　over　bureaucracy　had　decreed　first　that　all　visitors　should　change　their　clothes　for　a　sort　of　official　sackcloth；　and　then　（when　this　method　caused　some　murmurs）　that　they　should　at　least　turn　out　their　pockets。　Colonel　Morris；　the　officer　in　charge；　was　a　short；　active　man　with　a　grim　and　leathery　face；　but　a　lively　and　humorous　eyea　contradiction　borne　out　by　his　conduct；　for　he　at　once　derided　the　safeguards　and　yet　insisted　on　them。

〃I　don't　care　a　button　myself　for　Paul's　Penny；　or　such　things；〃　he　admitted　in　answer　to　some　antiquarian　openings　from　the　clergyman　who　was　slightly　acquainted　with　him；　〃but　I　wear　the　　King's　coat；　you　know；　and　it's　a　serious　thing　when　　the　King's　uncle　leaves　a　thing　here　with　his　own　　hands　under　my　charge。　But　as　for　saints　and　relics　　and　things；　I　fear　I'm　a　bit　of　a　Voltairian；　what　you　　would　call　a　skeptic。〃

〃I'm　not　sure　it's　even　skeptical　to　believe　in　the　royal　family　and　not　in　the　'Holy'　Family；〃