classic mystery and detective stories-第44章

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the　spot。〃



〃Why；　when　you　came　out；　you　said　you　had　not　six…pence　in　your

pocket。〃



〃Bah！　give　you　anything　you　likefiftya　hundreda　tausend

pound。〃



〃Come；　come；〃　said　I；　〃the　gold　of　the　box　may　be　worth　nine

guineas；　and　the　facon　we　will　put　at　six　more。〃



〃One　tausend　guineas！〃　he　screeched。　　〃One　tausend　and　fifty　pound

dere！〃　and　he　sank　back　in　his　chairno；　by　the　way；　on　his　bench；

for　he　was　sitting　with　his　back　to　one　of　the　partitions　of　the

boxes；　as　I　dare　say　James　remembers。



〃DON'T　go　on　in　this　way；〃　I　continued　rather　weakly；　for　I　did　not

know　whether　I　was　in　a　dream。　　〃If　you　offer　me　a　thousand　guineas

for　this　box　I　MUST　take　it。　　Mustn't　I；　dear　gr…nny？〃



The　table　most　distinctly　said　〃Yes〃；　and　putting　out　his　claws　to

seize　the　box；　Mr。　Pinto　plunged　his　hooked　nose　into　it；　and

eagerly　inhaled　some　of　my　47　with　a　dash　of　Hardman。



〃But　stay；　you　old　harpy！〃　I　exclaimed；　being　now　in　a　sort　of

rage；　and　quite　familiar　with　him。　　〃Where　is　the　money？　　Where　is

the　check？〃



〃James；　a　piece　of　note　paper　and　a　receipt　stamp！〃



〃This　is　all　mighty　well；　sir；〃　I　said；　〃but　I　don't　know　you；　I

never　saw　you　before。　　I　will　trouble　you　to　hand　me　that　box　back

again；　or　give　me　a　check　with　some　known　signature。〃



〃Whose？　　Ha；　Ha；　HA！〃



The　room　happened　to　be　very　dark。　　Indeed　all　the　waiters　were

gone　to　supper；　and　there　were　only　two　gentlemen　snoring　in　their

respective　boxes。　　I　saw　a　hand　come　quivering　down　from　the

ceilinga　very　pretty　hand；　on　which　was　a　ring　with　a　coronet；

with　a　lion　rampant　gules　for　a　crest。　　I　saw　that　hand　take　a　dip

of　ink　and　write　across　the　paper。　　Mr。　Pinto；　then；　taking　a　gray

receipt　stamp　out　of　his　blue　leather　pocketbook；　fastened　it　on　to

the　paper　by　the　usual　process；　and　the　hand　then　wrote　across　the

receipt　stamp；　went　across　the　table　and　shook　hands　with　Pinto；

and　then；　as　if　waving　him　an　adieu；　vanished　in　the　direction　of

the　ceiling。



There　was　the　paper　before　me；　wet　with　the　ink。　　There　was　the　pen

which　THE　HAND　had　used。　　Does　anybody　doubt　me？　　I　have　that　pen

now；a　cedar　stick　of　a　not　uncommon　sort；　and　holding　one　of

Gillott's　pens。　　It　is　in　my　inkstand　now；　I　tell　you。　　Anybody　may

see　it。　　The　handwriting　on　the　check；　for　such　the　document　was；

was　the　writing　of　a　female。　　It　ran　thus：〃London；　midnight；

March　31；　1862。　　Pay　the　bearer　one　thousand　and　fifty　pounds。

Rachel　Sidonia。　　To　Messrs。　Sidonia；　Pozzosanto　and　Co。；　London。〃



〃Noblest　and　best　of　women！〃　said　Pinto；　kissing　the　sheet　of　paper

with　much　reverence。　　〃My　good　Mr。　Roundabout；　I　suppose　you　do　not

question　THAT　signature？〃



Indeed　the　house　of　Sidonia；　Pozzosanto　and　Co。；　is　known　to　be　one

of　the　richest　in　Europe；　and　as　for　the　Countess　Rachel；　she　was

known　to　be　the　chief　manager　of　that　enormously　wealthy

establishment。　　There　was　only　one　little　difficulty；　the　Countess

Rachel　died　last　October。



I　pointed　out　this　circumstance；　and　tossed　over　the　paper　to　Pinto

with　a　sneer。



〃C'est　a　brandre　ou　a　laisser；〃　he　said　with　some　heat。　　〃You

literary　men　are　all　imbrudent；　but　I　did　not　tink　you　such　a　fool

wie　dis。　　Your　box　is　not　worth　twenty　pound；　and　I　offer　you　a

tausend　because　I　know　you　want　money　to　pay　dat　rascal　Tom's

college　bills。〃　　（This　strange　man　actually　knew　that　my　scapegrace

Tom　had　been　a　source　of　great　expense　and　annoyance　to　me。）　　〃You

see　money　costs　me　nothing；　and　you　refuse　to　take　it！　　Once；

twice；　will　you　take　this　check　in　exchange　for　your　trumpery

snuff…box？〃



What　could　I　do？　　My　poor　granny's　legacy　was　valuable　and　dear　to

me；　but　after　all　a　thousand　guineas　are　not　to　be　had　every　day。

〃Be　it　a　bargain；〃　said　I。　　〃Shall　we　have　a　glass　of　wine　on　it？〃

says　Pinto；　and　to　this　proposal　I　also　unwillingly　acceded；

reminding　him；　by　the　way；　that　he　had　not　yet　told　me　the　story　of

the　headless　man。



〃Your　poor　gr…ndm…ther　was　right　just　now；　when　she　said　she　was

not　my　first　love。　　'Twas　one　of　those　banale　expressions〃　（here

Mr。　P。　blushed　once　more）　〃which　we　use　to　women。　　We　tell　each　she

is　our　first　passion。　　They　reply　with　a　similar　illusory　formula。

No　man　is　any　woman's　first　love；　no　woman　any　man's。　　We　are　in

love　in　our　nurse's　arms；　and　women　coquette　with　their　eyes　before

their　tongue　can　form　a　word。　　How　could　your　lovely　relative　love

me？　　I　was　far；　far　too　old　for　her。　　I　am　older　than　I　look。　　I　am

so　old　that　you　would　not　believe　my　age　were　I　to　tell　you。　　I

have　loved　many　and　many　a　woman　before　your　relative。　　It　has　not

always　been　fortunate　for　them　to　love　me。　　Ah；　Sophronia！　　Round

the　dreadful　circus　where　you　fell；　and　whence　I　was　dragged

corpselike　by　the　heels；　there　sat　multitudes　more　savage　than　the

lions　which　mangled　your　sweet　form！　　Ah；　tenez！　when　we　marched　to

the　terrible　stake　together　at　Valladolidthe　Protestant　and　the

J　　But　away　with　memory！　　Boy！　it　was　happy　for　thy　grandam　that

she　loved　me　not。



〃During　that　strange　period；〃　he　went　on；　〃when　the　teeming　Time

was　great　with　the　revolution　that　was　speedily　to　be　born；　I　was

on　a　mission　in　Paris　with　my　excellent；　my　maligned　friend；

Cagliostro。　　Mesmer　was　one　of　our　band。　　I　seemed　to　occupy　but　an

obscure　rank　in　it：　though；　as　you　know；　in　secret　societies　the

humble　man　may　be　a　chief　and　directorthe　ostensible　leader　but　a

puppet　moved　by　unseen　hands。　　Never　mind　who　was　chief；　or　who　was

second。　　Never　mind　my　age。　　It　boots　not　to　tell　it：　why　shall　I

expose　myself　to　your　scornful　incredulityor　reply　to　your

questions　in　words　that　are　familiar　to　you；　but　which　you　cannot

understand？　　Words　are　symbols　of　things　which　you　know；　or　of

things　which　you　don't　know。　　If　you　don't　know　them；　to　speak　is

idle。〃　　（Here　I　confess　Mr。　P。　spoke　for　exactly　thirty…eight

minutes；　about　physics；　metaphysics；　language；　the　origin　and

destiny　of　man；　during　which　time　I　was　rather　bored；　and　to

relieve　my　ennui；　drank　a　half　glass　or　so　of　wine。）　　〃LOVE；

friend；　is　the　fountain　of　youth！　　It　may　not　happen　to　me　once

once　in　an　age：　but　when　I　love　then　I　am　young。　　I　loved　when　I

was　in　Paris。　　Bathilde；　Bathilde；　I　loved　theeah；　how　fondly！

Wine；　I　say；　more　wine！　　Love　is　ever　young。　　I　was　a　boy　at　the

little　feet　of　Bathilde　de　Bechamelthe　fair；　the　fond；　the

fickle；　ah；　the　false！〃　　The　strange　old　man's　agony　was　here

really　terrific；　and　he　showed　himself　much　more　agitated　than　when

he　had　been　speaking　about　my　gr…ndm…th…r。



〃I　thought　Blanche　might　love　me。　　I　could　speak　to　her　in　the

language　of　all　countries；　and　tell　her　the　lore　of　all　ages。　　I

could　trace　the　nursery　legends　which　she　loved　up　to　their

Sanscrit　source；　and　whisper　to　her　the　darkling　mysteries　of　the

Egyptian　Magi。　　I　could　chant　for　her　the　wild　chorus　that　rang　in

the　disheveled　Eleusinian　revel：　I　could　tell　her　and　I　would；　the

watchword　never　known　but　to　one　woman；　the　Saban　Queen；　which

Hiram　breathed　in　the　abysmal　ear　of　SolomonYou　don't　attend。

Psha！　you　have　drunk　too　much　wine！〃　　Perhaps　I　may　as　well　own

that　I　was　NOT　attending；　for　he　had　been　carrying　on　for　about

fifty…seven　minutes；　and　I　don't　like　a　man　to　have　ALL　the　talk　to

himself。



〃Blanche　de　Bechamel　was　wild；　then；　about　this　secret　of　Masonry。

In　early；　early　days　I　loved；　I　married　a　girl　fair　as　Blanche；

who；　too；　was　tormented　by　curiosity；　who；　too；　would　peep　into　my

closet；　into　the　only　secret　guarded　from　her。　　A　dreadful　fate

befell　poor　Fatima。　　An　ACCIDENT　shortened　her　life。　　Poor　thing！

she　had　a　foolish　sister　who　urged　her　on。　　I　always　told　her　to

beware　of　Ann。　　She　died。　　They　said　her　brothers　killed　me。　　A

gross　falsehood。　　AM　I　dead？　　If　I　were；　could　I　pledge　you　in　this

wine？〃



〃Was　your　name；〃　I　asked；　quite　bewildered；　〃was　your　name；　pray；

then；　ever　Blueb？〃



〃Hush！　the　waiter　will　overhear　you。　　Methought　we　were　speaking　of

Blanche　de　Bechamel。　　I　loved　her；　young　man。　　My　pearls；　and

diamonds；　and　treasure；　my　wit；　my　wisdom；　my　passion；　I　flung　them

all　into　the　child's　lap。　　I　was　a　fool。　　Was　strong　Samson　not　as

weak　as　I？　　Was　Solomon　the　Wise　much　better　when　Balkis　wheedled

him？　　I　said　to　the　kingBut　enough　of　that；　I　spake　of　Blanche　de

Bechamel。



〃Curiosity　was　the　poor　child's　foible。　　I　could　see；　as　I　talked

to　her；　that　her　thoughts　were　elsewhere　（as　yours；　my　friend；　have

been　absent　once　or　twice　to…night）。　　To　know　the　secret　of　Masonry

was　the　wretched　child's　mad　desire。　　With　a　thousand　wiles；

smiles；　caresses；　she　strove　to　coax　it　from　mefrom　MEha！　ha！



〃I　had　an　apprenticethe　son　of　a　dear　friend；　who　died　by　my　side

at　Rossbach；　when　Soubise；　with　whose　army　I　happened　to　be；

suffered　a　dreadful　defeat　for　neglecting　my　advice。　　The　Young

Chevalier　Goby　de　Mouchy　was　glad　enough　to　serve　as　my　clerk；　and

help　in　some　chemical　experiments　in　which　I　was　engaged　with　my

friend　Dr。　Mesmer。　　Bathilde　saw　this　young　man。　　Since　women　were；

has　it　not　been　their　business　to　smile　and　deceive；　to　fondle　and

lure？　　Away！　　From　the　very　first　it　has　been　so！〃　　And　as　my

companion　spoke；　he　looked　as　wicked　as　the　serpent　that　coiled

round　the　tree；　and　hissed　a　poisoned　counsel　to　the　first　woman。



〃One　evening　I　went；　as　was　my　wont；　to　see　Blanche。　　She　was

radiant：　she　was　wild　with　spirits：　a　saucy　triumph　blazed　in　her

blue　eyes。　　She　talked；　she　rattled　in　her　childish　way。　　She

uttered；　in　the　course　of　her　rhapsody；　a　hintan　intimationso

terrible　that　the　truth　flashed　across　me　in　a　moment。　　Did　I　ask

her？　　She　would　lie　to　me。　　But　I　knew　how　to　make　falsehood

impossible。　　And　I　ordered　her　to　go　to　sleep。〃



At　this　moment　the　clock　（after　its　previous　convulsions）　sounded

TWELVE。　　And　as　the　new　Editor*　of　the　Cornhill　Magazineand　HE；　I

promise　you；　won't　stand　any　nonsensewill　only　allow　seven　pages；

I　am　obliged　to　leave　off　at　THE　VERY　MOST　INTERESTING　POINT　OF　THE

STORY。





*　Mr。　Thackeray　retired　from　the　Editorship　of　the　Cornhill

Magazine　in　March；　1862





III





〃Are　you　of　our　fraternity？　　I　see　you　are　not。　　The　secret　which

Mademoiselle　de　Bechamel　confided　to　me　in　her　mad　triumph　and　wild

hoyden　spiritsshe　was　but　a　child；　poor　thing；　poor　thing；　scarce

fifteen；but　I　love　them　younga　folly　not　unusual　with　the　old！〃

（Here　Mr。　Pinto　thrust　his　knuckles　into　his　hollow　eyes；　and；　I　am

sorry　to　say；　so　little　regardful　was　he　of　personal　cleanliness；

that　his　tears　made　streaks　of　white　over　his　guarled　dark　hands。）

〃Ah；　at　fifteen；　poor　child；　thy　fate　was　terrible！　　Go　to！　　It　is

not　good　to　love　me；　friend。　　They　prosper　not　who　do。　　I　divine

you。　　You　need　not　say　what　you　are　thinking〃



In　truth；　I　was　thinking；　if　girls　fall　in　love　with　this　sallow；

hook…nosed；　glass…eyed；