the haunted bookshop(闹鬼的书店)-第15章
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in the overwhelming lustre of Miss Titania by the thought that she was；
after all； the creature and offspring of the science he worshippedthat of
Advertising。 Was not the fragrance of her presence； the soft compulsion
of her gaze； even the delirious frill of muslin at her wrist； to be set down to
the credit of his chosen art？ Had he not； pondering obscurely upon
〃attention…compelling〃 copy and lay…out and type…face； in a corner of the
Grey…Matter office； contributed to the triumphant prosperity and grace of
this unconscious beneficiary？ Indeed she seemed to him； fiercely
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tormenting himself with her loveliness； a symbol of the mysterious and
subtle power of publicity。 It was Advertising that had done this that had
enabled Mr。 Chapman； a shy and droll little person； to surround this girl
with all the fructifying glories of civilization to foster and cherish her
until she shone upon the earth like a morning star！ Advertising had
clothed her； Advertising had fed her； schooled； roofed； and sheltered her。
In a sense she was the crowning advertisement of her father's career； and
her innocent perfection taunted him just as much as the bright sky…sign he
knew was flashing the words CHAPMAN PRUNES above the teeming
pavements of Times Square。 He groaned to think that he himself； by his
conscientious labours； had helped to put this girl in such a position that he
could hardly dare approach her。
He would never have approached her again； on any pretext； if the
intensity of his thoughts had not caused him； unconsciously； to grip the
railing of the bridge with strong and angry hands。 For at that moment a
sack was thrown over his head from behind and he was violently seized by
the legs； with the obvious intent of hoisting him over the parapet。 His
unexpected grip on the railing delayed this attempt just long enough to
save him。 Swept off his feet by the fury of the assault； he fell sideways
against the barrier and had the good fortune to seize his enemy by the leg。
Muffled in the sacking； it was vain to cry out； but he held furiously to the
limb he had grasped and he and his attacker rolled together on the footway。
Aubrey was a powerful man； and even despite the surprise could probably
have got the better of the situation； but as he wrestled desperately and tried
to rid himself of his hood； a crashing blow fell upon his head； half
stunning him。 He lay sprawled out； momentarily incapable of struggle；
yet conscious enough to expect； rather curiously； the dizzying sensation of
a drop through insupportable air into the icy water of the East River。
Hands seized him and then； passively； he heard a shout； the sound of
footsteps running on the planks； and other footsteps hurrying away at top
speed。 In a moment the sacking was torn from his head and a friendly
pedestrian was kneeling beside him。
〃Say； are you all right？〃 said the latter anxiously。 〃Gee； those guys
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nearly got you。〃
Aubrey was too faint and dizzy to speak for a moment。 His head was
numb and he felt certain that several inches of it had been caved in。
Putting up his hand； feebly； he was surprised to find the contours of his
skull much the same as usual。 The stranger propped him against his knee
and wiped away a trickle of blood with his handkerchief。
〃Say； old man； I thought you was a goner；〃 he said sympathetically。 〃I
seen those fellows jump you。 Too bad they got away。 Dirty work； I'll
say so。〃
Aubrey gulped the night air； and sat up。 The bridge rocked under him；
against the star…speckled sky he could see the Woolworth Building
bending and jazzing like a poplar tree in a gale。 He felt very sick。
〃Ever so much obliged to you；〃 he stammered。 〃I'll be all right in a
minute。〃
〃D'you want me to go and ring up a nambulance？〃 said his assistant。
〃No； no；〃 said Aubrey； 〃I'll be all right。〃 He staggered to his feet and
clung to the rail of the bridge； trying to collect his wits。 One phrase ran
over and over in his mind with damnable iteration〃Mild； but they
satisfy！〃
〃Where were you going？〃 said the other； supporting him。
〃Madison Avenue and Thirty…Second〃
〃Maybe I can flag a jitney for you。 Here；〃 he cried； as another citizen
approached afoot； 〃Give this fellow a hand。 Someone beat him over the
bean with a club。 I'm going to get him a lift。〃
The newcomer readily undertook the friendly task； and tied Aubrey's
handkerchief round his head； which was bleeding freely。 After a few
moments the first Samaritan succeeded in stopping a touring car which
was speeding over from Brooklyn。 The driver willingly agreed to take
Aubrey home； and the other two helped him in。 Barring a nasty gash on
his scalp he was none the worse。
〃A fellow needs a tin hat if he's going to wander round Long Island at
night；〃 said the motorist genially。 〃Two fellows tried to hold me up
coming in from Rockville Centre the other evening。 Maybe they were the
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same two that picked on you。 Did you get a look at them？〃
〃No；〃 said Aubrey。 〃That piece of sacking might have helped me
trace them； but I forgot it。〃
〃Want to run back for it？〃
〃Never mind；〃 said Aubrey。 〃I've got a hunch about this。〃
〃Think you know who it is？ Maybe you're in politics； hey？〃
The car ran swiftly up the dark channel of the Bowery； into Fourth
Avenue； and turned off at Thirty…Second Street to deposit Aubrey in front
of his boarding house。 He thanked his convoy heartily； and refused
further assistance。 After several false shots he got his latch key in the
lock； climbed four creaking flights； and stumbled into his room。 Groping
his way to the wash…basin； he bathed his throbbing head； tied a towel
round it； and fell into bed。
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Chapter VI
Titania Learns the Business
Although he kept late hours； Roger Mifflin was a prompt riser。 It is
only the very young who find satisfaction in lying abed in the morning。
Those who approach the term of the fifth decade are sensitively aware of
the fluency of life； and have no taste to squander it among the blankets。
The bookseller's morning routine was brisk and habitual。 He was
generally awakened about half…past seven by the jangling bell that
balanced on a coiled spring at the foot of the stairs。 This ringing
announced the arrival of Becky； the old scrubwoman who came each
morning to sweep out the shop and clean the floors for the day's traffic。
Roger； in his old dressing gown of vermilion flannel； would scuffle down
to let her in； picking up the milk bottles and the paper bag of baker's rolls
at the same time。 As Becky propped the front door wide； opened window
transoms； and set about buffeting dust and tobacco smoke； Roger would
take the milk and rolls back to the kitchen and give Bock a morning
greeting。 Bock would emerge from his literary kennel； and thrust out his
forelegs in a genial obeisance。 This was partly politeness； and partly to
straighten out his spine after its all…night curvature。 Then Roger would let
him out into the back yard for a run； himself standing on the kitchen steps
to inhale the bright freshness of the morning air。
This Saturday morning was clear and crisp。 The plain backs of the
homes along Whittier Street； irregular in profile as the margins of a free
verse poem； offered Roger an agreeable human panorama。 Thin strands of
smoke were rising from chimneys； a belated baker's wagon was joggling
down the alley； in bedroom bay…windows sheets and pillows were already
set to sun and air。 Brooklyn； admirable borough of homes and hearty
breakfasts； attacks the morning hours in cheery； smiling spirit。 Bock
sniffed and rooted about the small back yard as though the earth （every
cubic inch of which he already knew by rote） held some new entrancing
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flavour。 Roger watched him with the amused and tender condescension
one always feels toward a happy dog perhaps the same mood of tolerant
paternalism that Gott is said to have felt in watching his boisterous
Hohenzollerns。
The nipping air began to infiltrate his dressing gown； and Roger
returned to the kitchen； his small； lively face alight with zest。 He opened
the draughts in the range； set a kettle on to boil； and went down to
resuscitate the furnace。 As he came upstairs for his bath； Mrs。 Mifflin
was descending； fresh and hearty in a starchy morning apron。 Roger
hummed a tune as he picked up the hairpins on the bedroom floor； and
wondered to himself why women are always supposed to be more tidy
than men。
Titania was awake early。 She smiled at the enigmatic portrait of
Samuel Butler； glanced at the row of books over her bed； and dressed
rapidly。 She ran downstairs； eager to begin her experience as a
bookseller。 The first impression the Haunted Bookshop had made on her
was one of superfluous dinginess； and as Mrs。 Mifflin refused to let her
help get breakfastexcept set out the salt cellars she r
