the wisdom of father brown-第30章
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I was awakened by a cry from Mull； who was also by this time at the Duke's side。 His head and mine were both bending over the bald head of the wigless Duke。 Then the silence was snapped by the librarian exclaiming： 〃What can it mean？ Why； the man had nothing to hide。 His ears are just like everybody else's。〃
〃Yes；〃 said Father Brown； 〃that is what he had to hide。〃
The priest walked straight up to him； but strangely enough did not even glance at his ears。 He stared with an almost comical seriousness at his bald forehead； and pointed to a three…cornered cicatrice； long healed； but still discernible。 〃Mr Green； I think。〃 he said politely； 〃and he did get the whole estate after all。〃
And now let me tell the readers of the Daily Reformer what I think the most remarkable thing in the whole affair。 This transformation scene； which will seem to you as wild and purple as a Persian fairy…tale； has been （except for my technical assault） strictly legal and constitutional from its first beginnings。 This man with the odd scar and the ordinary ears is not an impostor。 Though （in one sense） he wears another man's wig and claims another man's ear； he has not stolen another man's coronet。 He really is the one and only Duke of Exmoor。 What happened was this。 The old Duke really had a slight malformation of the ear； which really was more or less hereditary。 He really was morbid about it； and it is likely enough that he did invoke it as a kind of curse in the violent scene （which undoubtedly happened） in which he struck Green with the decanter。 But the contest ended very differently。 Green pressed his claim and got the estates； the dispossessed nobleman shot himself and died without issue。 After a decent interval the beautiful English Government revived the 〃extinct〃 peerage of Exmoor； and bestowed it； as is usual； on the most important person； the person who had got the property。
This man used the old feudal fablesproperly； in his snobbish soul； really envied and admired them。 So that thousands of poor English people trembled before a mysterious chieftain with an ancient destiny and a diadem of evil starswhen they are really trembling before a guttersnipe who was a pettifogger and a pawnbroker not twelve years ago。 I think it very typical of the real case against our aristocracy as it is； and as it will be till God sends us braver men。
Mr Nutt put down the manuscript and called out with unusual sharpness： 〃Miss Barlow； please take down a letter to Mr Finn。〃
DEAR FINN；You must be mad； we can't touch this。 I wanted vampires and the bad old days and aristocracy hand…in…hand with superstition。 They like that But you must know the Exmoors would never forgive this。 And what would our people say then； I should like to know！ Why； Sir Simon is one of Exmoor's greatest pals； and it would ruin that cousin of the Eyres that's standing for us at Bradford。 Besides； old Soap…Suds was sick enough at not getting his peerage last year； he'd sack me by wire if I lost him it with such lunacy as this。 And what about Duffey？ He's doing us some rattling articles on 〃The Heel of the Norman。〃 And how can he write about Normans if the man's only a solicitor？ Do be reasonable。Yours； E。 NUTT。
As Miss Barlow rattled away cheerfully； he crumpled up the copy and tossed it into the waste…paper basket； but not before he had； automatically and by force of habit； altered the word 〃God〃 to the word 〃circumstances。〃
EIGHT
The Perishing of the Pendragons
FATHER BROWN was in no mood for adventures。 He had lately fallen ill with over…work； and when he began to recover； his friend Flambeau had taken him on a cruise in a small yacht with Sir Cecil Fanshaw； a young Cornish squire and an enthusiast for Cornish coast scenery。 But Brown was still rather weak； he was no very happy sailor； and though he was never of the sort that either grumbles or breaks down； his spirits did not rise above patience and civility。 When the other two men praised the ragged violet sunset or the ragged volcanic crags； he agreed with them。 When Flambeau pointed out a rock shaped like a dragon； he looked at it and thought it very like a dragon。 When Fanshaw more excitedly indicated a rock that was like Merlin； he looked at it； and signified assent。 When Flambeau asked whether this rocky gate of the twisted river was not the gate of Fairyland； he said 〃Yes。〃 He heard the most important things and the most trivial with the same tasteless absorption。 He heard that the coast was death to all but careful seamen； he also heard that the ship's cat was asleep。 He heard that Fanshaw couldn't find his cigar…holder anywhere； he also heard the pilot deliver the oracle 〃Both eyes bright； she's all right； one eye winks； down she sinks。〃 He heard Flambeau say to Fanshaw that no doubt this meant the pilot must keep both eyes open and be spry。 And he heard Fanshaw say to Flambeau that； oddly enough； it didn't mean this： it meant that while they saw two of the coast lights； one near and the other distant； exactly side by side； they were in the right river…channel； but that if one light was hidden behind the other； they were going on the rocks。 He heard Fanshaw add that his country was full of such quaint fables and idioms； it was the very home of romance； he even pitted this part of Cornwall against Devonshire； as a claimant to the laurels of Elizabethan seamanship。 According to him there had been captains among these coves and islets compared with whom Drake was practically a landsman。 He heard Flambeau laugh； and ask if； perhaps； the adventurous title of 〃Westward Ho！〃 only meant that all Devonshire men wished they were living in Cornwall。 He heard Fanshaw say there was no need to be silly； that not only had Cornish captains been heroes； but that they were heroes still： that near that very spot
there was an old admiral； now retired； who was scarred by thrilling voyages full of adventures； and who had in his youth found the last group of eight Pacific Islands that was added to the chart of the world。 This Cecil Fanshaw was； in person； of the kind that commonly urges such crude but pleasing enthusiasms； a very young man； light…haired； high…coloured； with an eager profile； with a boyish bravado of spirits； but an almost girlish delicacy of tint and type。 The big shoulders； black brows and black mousquetaire swagger of Flambeau were a great contrast。
All these trivialities Brown heard and saw； but heard them as a tired man hears a tune in the railway wheels； or saw them as a sick man sees the pattern of his wall…paper。 No one can calculate the turns of mood in convalescence： but Father Brown's depression must have had a great deal to do with his mere unfamiliarity with the sea。 For as the river mouth narrowed like the neck of a bottle； and the water grew calmer and the air warmer and more earthly； he seemed to wake up and take notice like a baby。 They had reached that phase just after sunset when air and water both look bright； but earth and all its growing things look almost black by comparison。 About this particular evening； however； there was something exceptional。 It was one of those rare atmospheres in which a smoked…glass slide seems to have been slid away from between us and Nature； so that even dark colours on that day look more gorgeous than bright colours on cloudier days。 The trampled earth of the river…banks and the peaty stain in the pools did not look drab but glowing umber； and the dark woods astir in the breeze did not look； as usual； dim blue with mere depth of distance； but more like wind…tumbled masses of some vivid violet blossom。 This magic clearness and intensity in the colours was further forced on Brown's slowly reviving senses by something romantic and even secret in the very form of the landscape。
The river was still well wide and deep enough for a pleasure boat so small as theirs； but the curves of the country…side suggested that it was closing in on either hand； the woods seemed to be making broken and flying attempts at bridge…buildingas if the boat were passing from the romance of a valley to the romance of
