the grey room(灰房间)-第58章
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One can make no laws as to the time necessary for a dead body to grow as
cold as its surroundings。 The bodies of the old and the young cool more
quickly than those of adult persons。 If the conditions are favorable a
body may cool in six to eight hours。 Prince took but five； poor little bag
of bones。
〃In the case of Captain May the conditions are altogether different。 Let
me speak with all tenderness and spare you pain。 Be sure that he
suffered no more than the others。 The bed is now no longer made； the
mattress is bare。 That matters not to him。 Clad in his pyjamas； with a
railway rug to cover him and his dressing…gown for a pillow； he flings
himself down； and from his powerful and sanguine frame warmth is
instantly communicated to the mattress that supports him。 Probably but a
few minutes were sufficient to liberate the poison。 He is not asleep； but
on the edge of sleep when he becomes suddenly conscious of physical
sensations beyond his experience。 He had breathed death； but yet he is
not dead。 His brain works； and can send a message to his limbs； which are
still able to obey。 But his hour has come。 He leaps from the bed in no
suffering； but conscious； perhaps of an oppression； or an unfamiliar odor …
we cannot say what。 We only know that he feels intense surprise； not
pain for in that dying moment his emotions are fixed for ever by the
muscles of his face。 He needs air and seeks it。 He hurries to the recess；
kneels on the cushion； and throws open the window。 Or the window may
have been already open … we cannot tell。 To reach it is his last conscious
act； and in another moment he is dead。 The bed is not suspected。 Why
should it be？ Who could prove that he had even laid down upon it？
Indeed it was believed and reported at the inquest that he had not done so。
Yet that is what unquestionably happened。 Otherwise his candle would
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have burned to the socket。 He had blown it out and settled to rest； be
sure。
〃We have now to deal with the detective； and here again there was
nothing to associate his death with the bed of the Borgia。 Yet you will
see without my aid how easily he came by his death。 Peter Hardcastle
desires to be alone； that he may study the Grey Room and everything in it。
He is left as he wishes； walks here and there； sketches a ground plan of the
room and exhausts its more obvious peculiarities。 Would that he had
known the meaning of the golden bull！ Presently he strikes a train of
thought and sits down to develop it。 Or he may not have finished with
the room and have taken a seat from which he could survey everything
around him。 He sits at the foot of the bed … there on the right side。 He
makes his notes； then his last thoughts enter his mind … abstract reflection
on the subject of his trade。 For a moment he forgets the matter
immediately in hand and writes his ideas in his book。 He has been sitting
on the bed now for some while … how long we know not； but long enough
to create the heightened temperature which is all the watchful fiend within
the mattress requires to summon him。 Then ascends the spirit of death；
and Hardcastle； surprised as Captain May was surprised； leaps to his feet。
He takes two or three steps forward； his book and pen fall from his hand
and he drops upon his face … a dead man。 He is； of course； still warm
when Mr。 Lennox finds him； but the bed he leaped from is cold again and
harmless … its work done。
〃There remains the priest； the Rev。 Septimus May。 He neither lay on
the bed； nor sat upon it。 But what did he do？ He clearly knelt beside it
a long time； engaged in prayer。 Nothing more natural than that he should
stretch his arms over the mattress； bury his face in his hands； and so
remain in commune with the Almighty； uttering petition after petition for
the being he conceived as existing in the Grey Room； without power to
escape from it。 Thus leaning upon the bed with his arms stretched upon
it and his head perhaps sunk between them； he presently creates that
heightened temperature sufficient to arouse the destroyer。 It enters into
him … how； we know not yet … and he sinks unconscious to the floor； while
the bed is quickly cold again。
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〃As to the four detectives … Inspector Frith and his men…pure chance
saved the life of at least one of them； and by so doing； chance also
prevented them from discovering that the bed in their midst was the seat of
all the trouble。 Had one among them taken up his watch upon it； he
would certainly have died in the presence of his collaborators； but the men
sat on chairs in the corners of the room； and the chairs were harmless。
Whether their gas masks would indeed have saved them remains； of
course； to be proved。 I doubt it。
〃Such； my friends； were the masterpieces of the Borgia； for whom the
profoundest chemists worked willingly enough and by doing so doubtless
made their fortunes。 Their poisons were so designed to act that； by their
very operation； the secrets of them were concealed； and all clues
obliterated。 Chemistry knows nothing of the supernatural； yet can； as in
this case； achieve results that may well appear to be black magic。
〃And if we； of this day； fail to find them out； it is easy to guess that in
their own times； much that they caused to be done was set down to the
operations of Heaven alone。
〃Science will be deeply interested in your Borgia mattress； Sir Walter。
Science； I doubt not； will carefully unpick it and make a series of very
remarkable experiments； yet I make bold to believe that science may be
baffled by the cunning and forgotten knowledge of men long dust。 We
shall see as to that。〃
He rose and bade Masters call Stephano。 Then； with a few words；
they parted； and each shook the old man's hand and expressed a deep and
genuine gratitude before they did so。
〃A little remains to add；〃 said Signor Mannetti。 〃You shall hear what
it is to…morrow。 For the moment； 'Good…night！' It has been a crowning
joy to my long life that I was able to do this service to new and valued
friends。〃
In the servants' hall next morning Masters related what he had heard。
〃And if you ask me；〃 he concluded； 〃I draw back what I thought about
him being younger than he pretends。 He's older … old as the hills … older
than that horror in the Grey Boom。 He's a demon； and he's killed the old
dog； and I believe he's a Borge himself if the truth was known。〃
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