the man who knew too much-第33章

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e　Druids　believed　in　Druidism。　But　the　eighteenth…century　gentleman　who　built　these　temples　didn't　believe　in　Venus　or　Mercury　any　more　than　we　do；　that's　why　the　reflection　of　those　pale　pillars　in　the　lake　is　truly　only　the　shadow　of　a　shade。　They　were　men　of　the　age　of　Reason；　they；　who　filled　their　gardens　with　these　stone　nymphs；　had　less　hope　than　any　men　in　all　history　of　really　meeting　a　nymph　in　the　forest。〃

His　monologue　stopped　aruptly　with　a　sharp　noise　like　　a　thundercrack　that　rolled　in　dreary　echoes　round　the　　dismal　mere。　He　knew　at　once　what　it　wassomebody　had　fired　off　a　gun。　But　as　to　the　meaning　of　it　he　was　momentarily　staggered；　and　strange　thoughts　thronged　into　his　mind。　The　next　moment　he　　laughed；　for　he　saw　lying　a　little　way　along　the　path　　below　him　the　dead　bird　that　the　shot　had　brought　down。

At　the　same　moment；　however；　he　saw　something　else；　which　interested　him　more。　A　ring　of　dense　trees　ran　round　the　back　of　the　island　temple；　framing　the　facade　of　it　in　dark　foliage；　and　he　could　have　sworn　he　saw　a　stir　as　of　something　moving　among　the　leaves。　The　next　moment　his　suspicion　was　confirmed；　for　a　rather　ragged　figure　came　from　under　the　shadow　of　the　temple　and　began　to　move　along　the　causeway　that　led　to　the　bank。　Even　at　that　distance　the　figure　was　conspicuous　by　its　great　height　and　Fisher　could　see　that　the　man　carried　a　gun　under　his　arm。　There　came　back　into　his　memory　at　once　the　name　Long　Adam；　the　poacher。

With　a　rapid　sense　of　strategy　he　sometimes　showed；　Fisher　sprang　from　the　bank　and　raced　round　the　lake　to　the　head　of　the　little　pier　of　stones。　If　once　a　man　reached　the　mainland　he　could　easily　vanish　into　the　woods。　But　when　Fisher　began　to　advance　along　the　stones　toward　the　island；　the　man　was　cornered　in　a　blind　alley　and　could　only　back　toward　the　temple。　Putting　his　broad　shoulders　against　it；　he　stood　as　if　at　bay；　he　was　a　comparatively　young　man；　with　fine　lines　in　his　lean　face　and　figure　and　a　mop　of　ragged　red　hair。　The　look　in　his　eyes　might　well　have　been　disquieting　to　anyone　left　alone　with　him　on　an　island　in　the　middle　of　a　lake。

〃Good　morning；〃　said　Horne　Fisher；　pleasantly。　〃I　thought　at　first　you　were　a　murderer。　But　it　seems　unlikely；　somehow；　that　the　partridge　rushed　between　us　and　died　for　love　of　me；　like　the　heroines　in　the　romances；　so　I　suppose　you　are　a　poacher。〃

〃I　suppose　you　would　call　me　a　poacher；〃　answered　the　man；　and　his　voice　was　something　of　a　surprise　coming　from　such　a　scarecrow；　it　had　that　hard　fastidiousness　to　be　found　in　those　who　have　made　a　fight　for　their　own　refinement　among　rough　surroundings。　〃I　consider　I　have　a　perfect　right　to　shoot　game　in　this　place。　But　I　am　well　aware　that　people　of　your　sort　take　me　for　a　thief；　and　I　suppose　you　will　try　to　land　me　in　jail。〃

〃There　are　preliminary　difficulties；〃　replied　Fisher。　〃To　begin　with；　the　mistake　is　flattering；　but　I　am　not　a　gamekeeper。　Still　less　am　I　three　gamekeepers；　who　would　be；　I　imagine；　about　your　fighting　weight。　But　I　confess　I　have　another　reason　for　not　wanting　to　jail　you。〃

〃And　what　is　that？〃　asked　the　other。

〃Only　that　I　quite　agree　with　you；〃　answered　Fisher。　〃I　don't　exactly　say　you　have　a　right　to　poach；　but　I　never　could　see　that　it　was　as　wrong　as　being　a　thief。　It　seems　to　me　against　the　whole　normal　notion　of　property　that　a　man　should　own　something　because　it　flies　across　his　garden。　He　might　as　well　own　the　wind；　or　think　he　could　write　his　name　on　a　morning　cloud。　Besides；　if　we　want　poor　people　to　respect　property　we　must　give　them　some　property　to　respect。　You　ought　to　have　land　of　your　own；　and　I'm　going　to　give　you　some　if　I　can。〃

〃Going　to　give　me　some　land！〃　repeated　Long　Adam。

〃I　apologize　for　addressing　you　as　if　you　were　a　public　meeting；〃　said　Fisher；　〃but　I　am　an　entirely　new　kind　of　public　man　who　says　the　same　thing　in　public　and　in　private。　I've　said　this　to　a　hundred　huge　meetings　throughout　the　country；　and　I　say　it　to　you　on　this　queer　little　island　in　this　dismal　pond。　I　would　cut　up　a　big　estate　like　this　into　small　estates　for　everybody；　even　for　poachers。　I　would　do　in　England　as　they　did　in　Irelandbuy　the　big　men　out；　if　possible；　get　them　out；　anyhow。　A　man　like　you　ought　to　have　a　little　place　of　his　own。　I　don't　say　you　could　keep　pheasants；　but　you　might　keep　chickens。〃

The　man　stiffened　suddenly　and　he　seemed　at　once　to　blanch　and　flame　at　the　promise　as　if　it　were　a　threat。

〃Chickens！〃　he　repeated；　with　a　passion　of　contempt。

〃Why　do　you　object？〃　asked　the　placid　candidate。　〃Because　keeping　hens　is　rather　a　mild　amusement　for　a　poacher？　What　about　poaching　eggs？〃

〃Because　I　am　not　a　poacher；〃　cried　Adam；　in　a　rending　voice　that　rang　round　the　hollow　shrines　and　urns　like　the　echoes　of　his　gun。　〃Because　the　partridge　lying　dead　over　there　is　my　partridge。　Because　the　land　you　are　standing　on　is　my　land。　Because　my　own　land　was　only　taken　from　me　by　a　crime；　and　a　worse　crime　than　poaching。　This　has　been　a　single　estate　for　hundreds　and　hundreds　of　years；　and　if　you　or　any　meddlesome　mountebank　comes　here　and　talks　of　cutting　it　up　like　a　cake；　if　I　ever　hear　a　word　more　of　you　and　your　leveling　lies〃

〃You　seem　to　be　a　rather　turbulent　public；〃　observed　Horne　Fisher；　〃but　do　go　on。　What　will　happen　if　I　try　to　divide　this　estate　decently　among　decent　people？〃

The　poacher　had　recovered　a　grim　composure　as　he　replied。　〃There　will　be　no　partridge　to　rush　in　between。〃

With　that　he　turned　his　back；　evidently　resolved　to　say　no　more；　and　walked　past　the　temple　to　the　extreme　end　of　the　islet；　where　he　stood　staring　into　the　water。　Fisher　followed　him；　but；　when　his　repeated　questions　evoked　no　answer；　turned　back　toward　the　shore。　In　doing　so　he　took　a　second　and　closer　look　at　the　artificial　temple；　and　noted　some　curious　things　about　it。　Most　of　these　theatrical　things　were　as　thin　as　theatrical　scenery；　and　he　expected　the　classic　shrine　to　be　a　shallow　thing；　a　mere　shell　or　mask。　But　there　was　some　substantial　bulk　of　it　behind；　buried　in　the　trees；　which　had　a　gray；　labyrinthian　look；　like　serpents　of　stone；　and　lifted　a　load　of　leafy　towers　to　the　sky。　But　what　arrested　Fisher's　eye　was　that　in　this　bulk　of　gray…white　stone　behind　there　was　a　single　door　with　great；　rusty　bolts　outside；　the　bolts；　however；　were　not　shot　across　so　as　to　secure　it。　Then　he　walked　round　the　small　building；　and　found　no　other　opening　except　one　small　grating　like　a　ventilator；　high　up　in　the　wall。　He　retraced　his　steps　thoughtfully　along　the　causeway　to　the　banks　of　the　lake；　and　sat　down　on　the　stone　steps　between　the　two　sculptured　funeral　urns。　Then　he　lit　a　cigarette　and　smoked　it　in　ruminant　manner；　eventually　he　took　out　a　notebook　and　wrote　down　various　phrases；　numbering　and　renumbering　them　till　they　stood　in　the　following　order：　〃（1）　Squire　Hawker　disliked　his　first　wife。　（2）　He　married　his　second　wife　for　her　money。　（3）　Long　Adam　says　the　estate　is　really　his。　（4）　Long　Adam　hangs　round　the　island　temple；　which　looks　like　a　prison。　（5）　Squire　Hawker　was　not　poor　when　he　gave　up　the　estate。　（6）　Verner　was　poor　when　he　got　the　estate。〃

He　gazed　at　these　notes　with　a　gravity　which　gradually　turned　to　a　hard　smile；　threw　away　his　cigarette；　and　resumed　his　search　for　a　short　cut　to　the　great　house。　He　soon　picked　up　the　path　which；　winding　among　clipped　hedges　and　flower　beds；　brought　him　in　front　of　its　long　Palladian　facade。　It　had　the　usual　appearance　of　being；　not　a　private　house；　but　a　sort　of　public　building　sent　into　exile　in　the　provinces。

He　first　found　himself　in　the　presence　of　the　butler；　who　really　looked　much　older　than　the　building；　for　the　architecture　was　dated　as　Georgian；　but　the　man's　face；　under　a　highly　unnatural　brown　wig；　was　wrinkled　with　what　might　have　been　centuries。　Only　his　prominent　eyes　were　alive　and　alert；　as　if　with　protest。　Fisher　glanced　at　him；　and　then　stopped　and　said：

〃Excuse　me。　Weren't　you　with　the　late　squire；　Mr。　Hawker？〃　　　　　　　

'Yes；　sir；　said　the　man；　gravely。　〃Usher　is　my　name。　What　can　I　do　for　you？〃

〃Only　take　me　into　Sir　Francis　Verner；〃　replied　the　　visitor。

Sir　Francis　Verner　was　sitting　in　an　easy　chair　beside　　a　small　tab