the queen of hearts-第50章

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night；　what　share　he　had　of　the　immortal　inheritance　that　is
divided　among　us　all　had　lain　dormant　within　him。　Till　this
night；　Death　and　he　had　not　once　met；　even　in　thought。

He　took　a　few　turns　up　and　down　the　room；　then　stopped。　The　noise
made　by　his　boots　on　the　poorly…carpeted　floor　jarred　on　his　ear。
He　hesitated　a　little；　and　ended　by　taking　the　boots　off；　and
walking　backward　and　forward　noiselessly。

All　desire　to　sleep　or　to　rest　had　left　him。　The　bare　thought　of
lying　down　on　the　unoccupied　bed　instantly　drew　the　picture　on
his　mind　of　a　dreadful　mimicry　of　the　position　of　the　dead　man。
Who　was　he？　What　was　the　story　of　his　past　life？　Poor　he　must
have　been；　or　he　would　not　have　stopped　at　such　a　place　as　the
Two　Robins　Inn；　and　weakened；　probably；　by　long　illness；　or　he
could　hardly　have　died　in　the　manner　which　the　landlord　had
described。　Poor；　ill；　lonelydead　in　a　strange　placedead；　with
nobody　but　a　stranger　to　pity　him。　A　sad　story；　truly；　on　the
mere　face　of　it；　a　very　sad　story。

While　these　thoughts　were　passing　through　his　mind；　he　had
stopped　insensibly　at　the　window；　close　to　which　stood　the　foot
of　the　bed　with　the　closed　curtains。　At　first　he　looked　at　it
absently；　then　he　became　conscious　that　his　eyes　were　fixed　on
it；　and　then　a　perverse　desire　took　possession　of　him　to　do　the
very　thing　which　he　had　resolved　not　to　do　up　to　this　timeto
look　at　the　dead　man。

He　stretched　out　his　hand　toward　the　curtains；　but　checked
himself　in　the　very　act　of　undrawing　them；　turned　his　back
sharply　on　the　bed；　and　walked　toward　the　chimney…piece；　to　see
what　things　were　placed　on　it；　and　to　try　if　he　could　keep　the
dead　man　out　of　his　mind　in　that　way。

There　was　a　pewter　inkstand　on　the　chimney…piece；　with　some
mildewed　remains　of　ink　in　the　bottle。　There　were　two　coarse
china　ornaments　of　the　commonest　kind；　and　there　was　a　square　of
embossed　card；　dirty　and　fly…blown；　with　a　collection　of　wretched
riddles　printed　on　it；　in　all　sorts　of　zigzag　directions；　and　in
variously　colored　inks。　He　took　the　card　and　went　away　to　read　it
at　the　table　on　which　the　candle　was　placed；　sitting　down　with
his　back　resolutely　turned　to　the　curtained　bed。

He　read　the　first　riddle；　the　second；　the　third；　all　in　one
corner　of　the　card；　then　turned　it　round　impatiently　to　look　at
another。　Before　he　could　begin　reading　the　riddles　printed　here
the　sound　of　the　church　clock　stopped　him。

Eleven。

He　had　got　through　an　hour　of　the　time　in　the　room　with　the　dead
man。

Once　more　he　looked　at　the　card。　It　was　not　easy　to　make　out　the
letters　printed　on　it　in　consequence　of　the　dimness　of　the　light
which　the　landlord　had　left　hima　common　tallow　candle；
furnished　with　a　pair　of　heavy　old…fashioned　steel　snuffers。　Up
to　this　time　his　mind　had　been　too　much　occupied　to　think　of　the
light。　He　had　left　the　wick　of　the　candle　unsnuffed　till　it　had
risen　higher　than　the　flame；　and　had　burned　into　an　odd
pent…house　shape　at　the　top；　from　which　morsels　of　the　charred
cotton　fell　off　from　time　to　time　in　little　flakes。　He　took　up
the　snuffers　now　and　trimmed　the　wick。　The　light　brightened
directly；　and　the　room　became　less　dismal。

Again　he　turned　to　the　riddles；　reading　them　doggedly　and
resolutely；　now　in　one　corner　of　the　card；　now　in　another。　All
his　efforts；　however；　could　not　fix　his　attention　on　them。　He
pursued　his　occupation　mechanically；　deriving　no　sort　of
impression　from　what　he　was　reading。　It　was　as　if　a　shadow　from
the　curtained　bed　had　got　between　his　mind　and　the　gayly　printed
lettersa　shadow　that　nothing　could　dispel。　At　last　he　gave　up
the　struggle；　threw　the　card　from　him　impatiently；　and　took　to
walking　softly　up　and　down　the　room　again。

The　dead　man；　the　dead　man；　the　_hidden_　dead　man　on　the　bed！

There　was　the　one　persistent　idea　still　haunting　him。　Hidden！　Was
it　only　the　body　being　there；　or　was　it　the　body　being　there
_concealed；_　that　was　preying　on　his　mind？　He　stopped　at　the
window　with　that　doubt　in　him；　once　more　listening　to　the
pattering　rain；　once　more　looking　out　into　the　black　darkness。

Still　the　dead　man！

The　darkness　forced　his　mind　back　upon　itself；　and　set　his　memory
at　work；　reviving　with　a　painfully　vivid　distinctness　the
momentary　impression　it　had　received　from　his　first　sight　of　the
corpse。　Before　long　the　face　seemed　to　be　hovering　out　in　the
middle　of　the　darkness；　confronting　him　through　the　window；　with
the　paleness　whiterwith　the　dreadful　dull　line　of　light　between
the　imperfectly…closed　eyelids　broader　than　he　had　seen　itwith
the　parted　lips　slowly　dropping　further　and　further　away　from
each　otherwith　the　features　growing　larger　and　moving　closer；
till　they　seemed　to　fill　the　window；　and　to　silence　the　rain；　and
to　shut　out　the　night。

The　sound　of　a　voice　shouting　below　stairs　woke　him　suddenly　from
the　dream　of　his　own　distempered　fancy。　He　recognized　it　as　the
voice　of　the　landlord。

〃Shut　up　at　twelve；　Ben；〃　he　heard　it　say。　〃I'm　off　to　bed。〃

He　wiped　away　the　damp　that　had　gathered　on　his　forehead；
reasoned　with　himself　for　a　little　while；　and　resolved　to　shake
his　mind　free　of　the　ghastly　counterfeit　which　still　clung　to　it
by　forcing　himself　to　confront；　if　it　was　only　for　a　moment；　the
solemn　reality。　Without　allowing　himself　an　instant　to　hesitate；
he　parted　the　curtains　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　and　looked
through。

There　was　the　sad；　peaceful；　white　face；　with　the　awful　mystery
of　stillness　on　it；　laid　back　upon　the　pillow。　No　stir；　no　change
there！　He　only　looked　at　it　for　a　moment　before　he　closed　the
curtains　again；　but　that　moment　steadied　him；　calmed　him；
restored　himmind　and　bodyto　himself。　He　returned　to　his　old
occupation　of　walking　up　and　down　the　room；　persevering　in　it
this　time　till　the　clock　struck　again。

Twelve。

As　the　sound　of　the　clock…bell　died　away；　it　was　succeeded　by　the
confused　noise　downstairs　of　the　drinkers　in　the　taproom　leaving
the　house。　The　next　sound；　after　an　interval　of　silence；　was
caused　by　the　barring　of　the　door　and　the　closing　of　the　shutters
at　the　back　of　the　inn。　Then　the　silence　followed　again；　and　was
disturbed　no　more。

He　was　alone　nowabsolutely；　hopelessly　alone　with　the　dead　man
till　the　next　morning。

The　wick　of　the　candle　wanted　trimming　again。　He　took　up　the
snuffers；　but　paused　suddenly　on　the　very　point　of　using　them；
and　looked　attentively　at　the　candlethen　back；　over　his
shoulder；　at　the　curtained　bedthen　again　at　the　candle。　It　had
been　lighted　for　the　first　time　to　show　him　the　way　upstairs；　and
three　parts　of　it；　at　least；　were　already　consumed。　In　another
hour　it　would　be　burned　out。　In　another　hour；　unless　he　called　at
once　to　the　man　who　had　shut　up　the　inn　for　a　fresh　candle；　he
would　be　left　in　the　dark。

Strongly　as　his　mind　had　been　affected　since　he　had　entered　the
room；　his　unreasonable　dread　of　encountering　ridicule　and　of
exposing　his　courage　to　suspicion　had　not
　altogether　lost　its　influence　over　him　even　yet。

He　lingered　irresolutely　by　the　table；　waiting　till　he　could
prevail　on　himself　to　open　the　door；　and　call　from　the　landing；
to　the　man　who　had　shut　up　the　inn。　In　his　present　hesitating
frame　of　mind；　it　was　a　kind　of　relief　to　gain　a　few　moments　only
by　engaging　in　the　trifling　occupation　of　snuffing　the　candle。
His　hand　trembled　a　little；　and　the　snuffers　were　heavy　and
awkward　to　use。　When　he　closed　them　on　the　wick；　he　closed　them　a
hair…breadth　too　low。　In　an　instant　the　candle　was　out；　and　the
room　was　plunged　in　pitch　darkness。

The　one　impression　which　the　absence　of　light　immediately
produced　on　his　mind　was　distrust　of　the　curtained　beddistrust
which　shaped　itself　into　no　distinct　idea；　but　which　was　powerful
enough；　in　its　very　vagueness；　to　bind　him　down　to　his　chair；　to
make　his　heart　beat　fast；　and　to　set　him　listening　intently。　No
sound　stirred　in　the　room；　but　the　familiar　sound　of　the　rain
against　the　window；　louder　and　sharper　now　than　he　had　heard　it
yet。

Still　the　vague　distrust；　the　inexpressible　dread　possessed　him；
and　kept　him　in　his　chair。　He　had　put　his　carpet…bag　on　the　table
when　he　first　entered　the　room；　and　he　now　took　t