the wisdom of father brown-第49章

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rsuit　of　some　private　investigation　of〃

　　　　　〃Had　the　flowers　got　long　stalks？〃　asked　Father　Brown。

　　　　　Flambeau　stared　at　him。　　〃What　an　odd　person　you　are！〃　he　said。　　〃That's　exactly　what　old　Grimm　said。　　He　said　the　ugliest　part　of　it；　he　thoughtuglier　than　the　blood　and　bulletwas　that　the　flowers　were　quite　short；　plucked　close　under　the　head。〃

　　　　　〃Of　course；〃　said　the　priest；　〃when　a　grown　up　girl　is　really　picking　flowers；　she　picks　them　with　plenty　of　stalk。　　If　she　just　pulled　their　heads　off；　as　a　child　does；　it　looks　as　if〃　And　he　hesitated。

　　　　　〃Well？〃　inquired　the　other。

　　　　　〃Well；　it　looks　rather　as　if　she　had　snatched　them　nervously；　to　make　an　excuse　for　being　there　afterwell；　after　she　was　there。〃

　　　　　〃I　know　what　you're　driving　at；〃　said　Flambeau　rather　gloomily。　　〃But　that　and　every　other　suspicion　breaks　down　on　the　one　point　the　want　of　a　weapon。　　He　could　have　been　killed；　as　you　say；　with　lots　of　other　thingseven　with　his　own　military　sash；　but　we　have　to　explain　not　bow　he　was　killed；　but　how　he　was　shot。　　And　the　fact　is　we　can't。　　They　had　the　girl　most　ruthlessly　searched；　for；　to　tell　the　truth；　she　was　a　little　suspect；　though　the　niece　and　ward　of　the　wicked　old　Chamberlain；　Paul　Arnhold。　　But　she　was　very　romantic；　and　was　suspected　of　sympathy　with　the　old　revolutionary　enthusiasm　in　her　family。　　All　the　same；　however　romantic　you　are；　you　can't　imagine　a　big　bullet　into　a　man's　jaw　or　brain　without　using　a　gun　or　pistol。　　And　there　was　no　pistol；　though　there　were　two　pistol　shots。　　I　leave　it　to　you；　my　friend。〃

　　　　　〃How　do　you　know　there　were　two　shots？〃　asked　the　little　priest。

　　　　　〃There　was　only　one　in　his　head；〃　said　his　companion；　〃but　there　was　another　bullet…hole　in　the　sash。〃

　　　　　Father　Brown's　smooth　brow　became　suddenly　constricted。　　〃Was　the　other　bullet　found？〃　he　demanded。

　　　　　Flambeau　started　a　little。　　〃I　don't　think　I　remember；〃　he　said。

　　　　　〃Hold　on！　　Hold　on！　　Hold　on！〃　cried　Brown；　frowning　more　and　more；　with　a　quite　unusual　concentration　of　curiosity。　　〃Don't　think　me　rude。　　Let　me　think　this　out　for　a　moment。〃

　　　　　〃All　right；〃　said　Flambeau；　laughing；　and　finished　his　beer。　　A　slight　breeze　stirred　the　budding　trees　and　blew　up　into　the　sky　cloudlets　of　white　and　pink　that　seemed　to　make　the　sky　bluer　and　the　whole　coloured　scene　more　quaint。　　They　might　have　been　cherubs　flying　home　to　the　casements　of　a　sort　of　celestial　nursery。　　The　oldest　tower　of　the　castle；　the　Dragon　Tower；　stood　up　as　grotesque　as　the　ale…mug；　but　as　homely。　　Only　beyond　the　tower　glimmered　the　wood　in　which　the　man　had　lain　dead。

　　　　　〃What　became　of　this　Hedwig　eventually？〃　asked　the　priest　at　last。

　　　　　〃She　is　married　to　General　Schwartz；〃　said　Flambeau。　　〃No　doubt　you've　heard　of　his　career；　which　was　rather　romantic。　　He　had　distinguished　himself　even；　before　his　exploits　at　Sadowa　and　Gravelotte；　in　fact；　he　rose　from　the　ranks；　which　is　very　unusual　even　in　the　smallest　of　the　German。。。〃

　　　　　Father　Brown　sat　up　suddenly。

　　　　　〃Rose　from　the　ranks！〃　he　cried；　and　made　a　mouth　as　if　to　whistle。　　〃Well；　well；　what　a　queer　story！　　What　a　queer　way　of　killing　a　man；　but　I　suppose　it　was　the　only　one　possible。　　But　to　think　of　hate　so　patient〃

　　　　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃　demanded　the　other。　　〃In　what　way　did　they　kill　the　man？〃

　　　　　〃They　killed　him　with　the　sash；〃　said　Brown　carefully；　and　then；　as　Flambeau　protested：　　〃Yes；　yes；　I　know　about　the　bullet。　　Perhaps　I　ought　to　say　he　died　of　having　a　sash。　　I　know　it　doesn't　sound　like　having　a　disease。〃

　　　　　〃I　suppose；〃　said　Flambeau；　〃that　you've　got　some　notion　in　your　head；　but　it　won't　easily　get　the　bullet　out　of　his。　　As　I　explained　before；　he　might　easily　have　been　strangled。　　But　he　was　shot。　　By　whom？　　By　what？〃

　　　　　〃He　was　shot　by　his　own　orders；〃　said　the　priest。

　　　　　〃You　mean　he　committed　suicide？〃

　　　　　〃I　didn't　say　by　his　own　wish；〃　replied　Father　Brown。　　〃I　said　by　his　own　orders。〃

　　　　　〃Well；　anyhow；　what　is　your　theory？〃

　　　　　Father　Brown　laughed。　　〃I　am　only　on　my　holiday；〃　he　said。　　〃I　haven't　got　any　theories。　　Only　this　place　reminds　me　of　fairy　stories；　and；　if　you　like；　I'll　tell　you　a　story。〃

　　　　　The　little　pink　clouds；　that　looked　rather　like　sweet…stuff；　had　floated　up　to　crown　the　turrets　of　the　gilt　gingerbread　castle；　and　the　pink　baby　fingers　of　the　budding　trees　seemed　spreading　and　stretching　to　reach　them；　the　blue　sky　began　to　take　a　bright　violet　of　evening；　when　Father　Brown　suddenly　spoke　again：

　　　　　〃It　was　on　a　dismal　night；　with　rain　still　dropping　from　the　trees　and　dew　already　clustering；　that　Prince　Otto　of　Grossenmark　stepped　hurriedly　out　of　a　side　door　of　the　castle　and　walked　swiftly　into　the　wood。　　One　of　the　innumerable　sentries　saluted　him；　but　he　did　not　notice　it。　　He　had　no　wish　to　be　specially　noticed　himself。　　He　was　glad　when　the　great　trees；　grey　and　already　greasy　with　rain；　swallowed　him　up　like　a　swamp。　　He　had　deliberately　chosen　the　least　frequented　side　of　his　palace；　but　even　that　was　more　frequented　than　he　liked。　　But　there　was　no　particular　chance　of　officious　or　diplomatic　pursuit；　for　his　exit　had　been　a　sudden　impulse。　　All　the　full…dressed　diplomatists　he　left　behind　were　unimportant。　　He　had　realized　suddenly　that　he　could　do　without　them。

　　　　　〃His　great　passion　was　not　the　much　nobler　dread　of　death；　but　the　strange　desire　of　gold。　　For　this　legend　of　the　gold　he　had　left　Grossenmark　and　invaded　Heiligwaldenstein。　　For　this　and　only　this　he　had　bought　the　traitor　and　butchered　the　hero；　for　this　he　had　long　questioned　and　cross…questioned　the　false　Chamberlain；　until　he　had　come　to　the　conclusion　that；　touching　his　ignorance；　the　renegade　really　told　the　truth。　　For　this　he　had；　somewhat　reluctantly；　paid　and　promised　money　on　the　chance　of　gaining　the　larger　amount；　and　for　this　he　had　stolen　out　of　his　palace　like　a　thief　in　the　rain；　for　he　had　thought　of　another　way　to　get　the　desire　of　his　eyes；　and　to　get　it　cheap。

　　　　　〃Away　at　the　upper　end　of　a　rambling　mountain　path　to　which　he　was　making　his　way；　among　the　pillared　rocks　along　the　ridge　that　hangs　above　the　town；　stood　the　hermitage；　hardly　more　than　a　cavern　fenced　with　thorn；　in　which　the　third　of　the　great　brethren　had　long　hidden　himself　from　the　world。　　He；　thought　Prince　Otto；　could　have　no　real　reason　for　refusing　to　give　up　the　gold。　　He　had　known　its　place　for　years；　and　made　no　effort　to　find　it；　even　before　his　new　ascetic　creed　had　cut　him　off　from　property　or　pleasures。　　True；　he　had　been　an　enemy；　but　he　now　professed　a　duty　of　having　no　enemies。　　Some　concession　to　his　cause；　some　appeal　to　his　principles；　would　probably　get　the　mere　money　secret　out　of　him。　　Otto　was　no　coward；　in　spite　of　his　network　of　military　precautions；　and；　in　any　case；　his　avarice　was　stronger　than　his　fears。　　Nor　was　there　much　cause　for　fear。　　Since　he　was　certain　there　were　no　private　arms　in　the　whole　principality；　he　was　a　hundred　times　more　certain　there　were　none　in　the　Quaker's　little　hermitage　on　the　hill；　where　he　lived　on　herbs；　with　two　old　rustic　servants；　and　with　no　other　voice　of　man　for　year　after　year。　　Prince　Otto　looked　down　with　something　of　a　grim　smile　at　the　bright；　square　labyrinths　of　the　lamp…lit　city　below　him。　　For　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see　there　ran　the　rifles　of　his　friends；　and　not　one　pinch　of　powder　for　his　enemies。　　Rifles　ranked　so　close　even　to　that　mountain　path　that　a　cry　from　him　would　bring　the　soldiers　rushing　up　the　hill；　to　say　nothing　of　the　fact　that　the　wood　and　ridge　were　patrolled　at　regular　intervals；　rifles　so　far　away；　in　the　dim　woods；　dwarfed　by　distance；　beyond　the　river；　that　an　enemy　could　not　slink　into　the　town　by　any　detour。　　And　round　the　palace　rifles　at　the　west　door　and　the　east　door；　at　the　north　door　and　the　south；　and　all　along　the　four　facades　linking　them。　　He　was　safe。

　　　　　〃It　was　all　the　more　clear　when　he　had　crested　the　ridge　and　found　how　naked　was　the　nest　of　his　old　enemy。　　He　found　himself　on　a　small　platform　of　rock；　broken　abruptly　by　the　three　corners　of　precipice。　　Behind　was　the　black　cave；　masked　with　green　thorn；　so　low　that　it　was　hard　to　belie