pgw.uneasymoney-第22部分

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　'That　was　enough。'
　'I'm　awfully　sorry。'
　'Oh；　we　shall　pull　through　all　right；　but　we　must　act　at　once。　We　must　be　swift　and　resolute。　We　must　saddle　our　chargers　and　up　and　away；　and　all　that　sort　of　thing。　Show　a　flash　of　speed；'　she　explained　kindly；　at　the　sight　of　Bill's　bewildered　face。
　'But　what　has　happened？'
　'The　press　is　on　our　trail。　I've　been　interviewing　reporters　all　the　afternoon。'
　'Reporters！'
　'Millions　of　them。　The　place　is　alive　with　them。　Keen；　hatchet…faced　young　men；　and　every　one　of　them　was　the　man　who　really　unravelled　some　murder　mystery　or　other；　though　the　police　got　the　credit　for　it。　They　told　me　so。'
　'But；　I　say；　how　on　earth'
　'did　they　get　here？　I　suppose　Lady　Wetherby　invited　them；'
　'But　why？'
　'She　wants　the　advertisement；　of　course。　I　know　it　doesn't　sound　sensationala　lost　monkey；　but　when　it's　a　celebrity's　lost　monkey　it　makes　a　difference。　Suppose　King　George　had　lost　a　monkey；　wouldn't　your　London　newspapers　give　it　a　good　deal　of　space？　Especially　if　it　had　thrown　eggs　at　one　of　the　ladies　and　bitten　the　Duke　of　Norfolk　in　the　leg？　That's　what　our　visitor　has　been　doing　apparently。　At　least；　he　threw　eggs　at　the　scullery…maid　and　bit　a　millionaire。　It's　practically　the　same　thing。　At　any　rate；　there　it　is。　The　newspaper　men　are　here；　and　they　seem　to　regard　this　farm　as　their　centre　of　operations。　I　had　the　greatest　difficulty　in　inducing　them　to　go　home　to　their　well…earned　dinners。　They　wanted　to　camp　out　on　the　place。　As　it　is；　there　may　still　be　some　of　them　round；　hiding　in　the　grass　with　notebooks；　and　telling　one　another　in　whispers　that　they　were　the　men　who　really　solved　the　murder　mystery。　What　shall　we　do？'
　Bill　had　no　suggestions。
　'You　realize　our　position？　I　wonder　if　we　could　be　arrested　for　kidnapping。　The　monkey　is　far　more　human　than　most　of　the　millionaire　children　who　get　kidnapped。　It's　an　awful　fix。　Did　you　know　that　Lady　Wetherby　is　going　to　offer　a　reward　for　the　animal？'
　'No；　really？'
　'Five　hundred　dollars！'
　'Surely　not！'
　'She　is。　I　suppose　she　feels　she　can　charge　it　up　to　necessary　expenses　for　publicity　and　still　be　ahead　of　the　game；　taking　into　account　the　advertising　she's　going　to　get。'
　'She　said　nothing　about　that　when　I　saw　her。'
　'No；　because　it　won't　be　offered　until　to…morrow　or　the　day　after。　One　of　the　newspaper　men　told　me　that。　The　idea　is；　of　course；　to　make　the　thing　exciting　just　when　it　would　otherwise　be　dying　as　a　news　item。　Cumulative　interest。　It's　a　good　scheme；　too；　but　it　makes　it　very　awkward　for　me。　I　don't　want　to　be　in　the　position　of　keeping　a　monkey　locked　up　with　the　idea　of　waiting　until　somebody　starts　a　bull　market　in　monkeys。　I　consider　that　that　sort　of　thing　would　stain　the　spotless　escutcheon　of　the　Boyds。　It　would　be　a　low　trick　for　that　old…established　family　to　play。　Not　but　what　poor；　dear　Nutty　would　do　it　like　a　shot；'　she　concluded　meditatively。
　Bill　was　impressed。
　'It　does　make　it　awkward；　what？'
　'It　makes　it　more　than　awkward；　what！　Take　another　aspect　of　the　situation。　The　night　before　last　my　precious　Nutty；　while　ruining　his　constitution　with　the　demon　rum；　thought　he　saw　a　monkey　that　wasn't　there；　and　instantly　resolved　to　lead　a　new　and　better　life。　He　hates　walking；　but　he　has　now　begun　to　do　his　five　miles　a　day。　He　loathes　cold　baths；　but　he　now　wallows　in　them。　I　don't　know　his　views　on　Indian　clubs；　but　I　should　think　that　he　has　a　strong　prejudice　against　them；　too；　but　now　you　can't　go　near　him　without　taking　a　chance　of　being　brained。　Are　all　these　good　things　to　stop　as　quickly　as　they　began？　If　I　know　Nutty；　he　would　drop　them　exactly　one　minute　after　he　heard　that　it　was　a　real　monkey　he　saw　that　night。　And　how　are　we　to　prevent　his　hearing？　By　a　merciful　miracle　he　was　out　taking　his　walk　when　the　newspaper　men　began　to　infest　the　place　to…day；　but　that　might　not　happen　another　time。　What　conclusion　does　all　this　suggest　to　you；　Mr　Chalmers？'
　'We　ought　to　get　rid　of　the　animal。'
　'This　very　minute。　But　don't　you　bother　to　e。　You　must　be　tired　out；　poor　thing。'
　'I　never　felt　less　tired；'　said　Bill　stoutly。
　Elizabeth　looked　at　him　in　silence　for　a　moment。
　'You're　rather　splendid；　you　know；　Mr　Chalmers。　You　make　a　great　partner　for　an　adventure　of　this　kind。　You're　nice　and　solid。'
　The　outhouse　lay　in　the　neighbourhood　of　the　hives；　a　gaunt；　wooden　structure　surrounded　by　bushes。　Elizabeth　glanced　over　her　shoulder　as　she　drew　the　key　from　her　pocket。
　'You　can't　think　how　nervous　I　was　this　afternoon；'　she　said。　'I　thought　every　moment　one　of　those　newspaper　men　would　look　in　here。　IJames！　James！　I　thought　I　heard　James　in　those　bushesI　kept　heading　them　away。　Once　I　thought　it　was　all　up。'　She　unlocked　the　door。　'One　of　them　was　about　a　yard　from　the　window；　just　going　to　look　in。　Thank　goodness；　a　bee　stung　him　at　the　psychological　moment；　andOh！'
　'What's　the　matter？'
　'e　and　get　a　banana。'
　They　walked　to　the　house。　On　the　way　Elizabeth　stopped。
　'Why；　you　haven't　had　any　dinner　either！'　she　said。
　'Never　mind　me；'　said　Bill；　'I　can　wait。　Let's　get　this　thing　finished　first。'
　'You　really　are　a　sport；　Mr　Chalmers；'　said　Elizabeth　gratefully。　'It　would　kill　me　to　wait　a　minute。　I　shan't　feel　happy　until　I've　got　it　over。　Will　you　stay　here　while　I　go　up　and　see　that　Nutty's　safe　in　his　room？'　she　added　as　they　entered　the　house。
　She　stopped　abruptly。　A　feline　howl　had　broken　the　stillness　of　the　night；　followed　instantly　by　a　sharp　report。
　'What　was　that？'
　'It　sounded　like　a　car　backfiring。'
　'No；　it　was　a　shot。　One　of　the　neighbours；　I　expect。　You　can　hear　miles　away　on　a　night　like　this。　I　suppose　a　cat　was　after　his　chickens。　Thank　goodness；　James　isn't　a　pirate　cat。　Wait　while　I　go　up　and　see　Nutty。'
　She　was　gone　only　a　moment。
　'It's　all　right；'　she　said。　'I　peeped　in。　He's　doing　deep　breathing　exercises　at　his　window　which　looks　out　the　other　way。　e　along。'
　When　they　reached　the　outhouse　they　found　the　door　open。
　'Did　you　do　that？'　said　Elizabeth。　'Did　you　leave　it　open？'
　'No。'
　'I　don't　remember　doing　it　myself。　It　must　have　swung　open。　Well；　this　saves　us　a　walk。　He'll　have　gone。'
　'Better　take　a　look　round；　what？'
　'Yes；　I　suppose　so；　but　he's　sure　not　to　be　there。　Have　you　a　match？'
　Bill　struck　one　and　held　it　up。
　'Good　Lord！'
　The　match　went　out。
　'What　is　it？　What　has　happened？'
　Bill　was　fumbling　for　another　match。
　'There's　something　on　the　floor。　It　looks　likeI　thought　for　a　minute'　The　small　flame　shot　out　of　the　gloom；　flickered；　then　burned　with　a　steady　glow。　Bill　stooped；　bending　over　something　on　the　ground。　The　match　burned　down。
　Bill's　voice　came　out　of　the　darkness：
　'I　say；　you　were　right　about　that　noise。　It　was　a　shot。　The　poor　little　chap's　down　there　on　the　floor　with　a　hole　in　him　the　size　of　my　fist。'
　
　17
　Boyhood；　like　measles；　is　one　of　those　plaints　which　a　man　should　catch　young　and　have　done　with；　for　when　it　es　in　middle　life　it　is　apt　to　be　serious。　Dudley　Pickering　had　escaped　boyhood　at　the　time　when　his　contemporaries　were　contracting　it。　It　is　true　that　for　a　few　years　after　leaving　the　cradle　he　had　exhibited　a　certain　immatureness；　but　as　soon　as　he　put　on　knickerbockers　and　began　to　go　about　a　little　he　outgrew　all　that。　He　avoided　altogether　the　chaotic　period　which　usually　lies　between　the　years　of　ten　and　fourteen。　At　ten　he　was　a　thoughtful　and　sober…minded　young　man；　at　fourteen　almost　an　old　fogy。
　And　nowthirty…odd　years　overdueboyhood　had　e　upon　him。　As　he　examined　the　revolver　in　his　bedroom；　wild　and　unfamiliar　emotions　seethed　within　him。　He　did　not　realize　it；　but　they　were　the　emotions　which　should　have　e　to　him　thirty　years　before　and　driven　him　out　to　hunt　Indians　in　the　garden。　An　imagination　which　might　well　have　bee　atrophied　through　disuse　had　him　as　thoroughly　in　its　control　as　ever　he　had　had　his　Pickering　Giant。
　He　believed　almost　with　devoutness　in　the　plot　which　he　had　detected　for　the　spoliation　of　Lord　Wetherby's　summer…house；　that　plot　of　which　he　held　Lord　Dawlish　to　be　the　mainspring。　And　it　must　be　admitted　that　circumstances　had　bined　to　help　his　belief。　If　the　atmosphere　in　which　he　was　moving　was　not　sinister　then　there　was　no　meaning　in　the　word。
　Summer　homes　had　been　burgled；　there　was　no　getting　away　from　thathalf　a　dozen　at　least　in　the　past　two　months。　He　was　a　stranger　in　the　locality；　so　had　no　means　of　knowing　that　summer　homes　were　always　burgled　on　Long　Island　every　year；　as　regularly　as　the　ing　of　the　mosquito　and　the　advent　of　the　jelly…fish。　It　was　one　of　the　local　industries。　People　left　summer　homes　lying　about　loose　in　lonely　spots；　and　you　just　naturally　got　in　through　the　cellar　window。　Such　was　the　Long　Islander's　simple　creed。
　This　created　in　Mr　Pickering's　mind　an　atmosphere　of　burglary；　a　receptiveness；　as　it　were；　toward　burglars　as　phenomena；　and　the　extremely　peculiar　behaviour　of　the　person　whom　in　his　thoughts　he　always　referred　to　as　The　Man　crystallized　it。　He　had　seen　The　Man　hanging　about；　peering　in　at　windows。　He　had　shouted　'Hi！'　and　The　Man　had　run。　The　Man　had　got　into　the　house　under　the　pretence　of　being　a　friend　of　Claire's。　At　the　suggestion　that　he　should　meet　Claire　he　had　dashed　away　in　a　panic。　And　Claire；　both　then　and　later；　had　denied　absolutely　any　knowledge　of　him。
　As　for　the　apparently　blameless　beekeeping　that　was　going　on　at　the　place　where　he　lived；　that　was　easily　discounted。　Mr　Pickering　had　heard　somewhere　or　read　somewherehe　rather　thought　that　it　was　in　those　interesting　but　disturbing　chronicles　of　Rafflesthat　the　first　thing　an　intelligent　burglar　did　was　to　assume　some　open　and　innocent　occupation　to　avert　possible　inquiry　into　his　real　mode　of　life。　Mr　Pickering　did　not　put　it　so　to　himself；　for　he　was　rarely　slangy　even　in　thought；　but　what　he　felt　was　that　he　had　caught　The　Man　and　his　confederate　with　the　goods。
　If　Mr　Pickering　had　had　his　boyhood　at　the　proper　time　and　finished　with　it；　he　would　no　doubt　have　acted　otherwise　than　he　did。　He　would　have　contented　himself　with　conducting　a　war　of　defence。　He　would　have　notified　the　police；　and　considered　that　all　that　remained　for　him　personally　to　do　was　to　stay　in　his　room　at　night　with　his　revolver。　But　boys　will　be　boys。　The　only　course　that　seemed　to　him　in　any　way　satisfactory　in　this　his　hour　of　rejuvenation　was　to　visit　the　bee　farm；　the　hotbed　of　crime；　and　keep　an　eye　on　it。　He　wanted　to　go　there　and　prowl。
　He　did　not　anticipate　any　definite　oute　of　his　visit。　In　his　boyish；　elemental　way　he　just　wanted　to　take　a　revolver　and　a　pocketful　of　cartridges；　and　prowl。
　It　was　a　great　night　for　prowling。　A　moon　so　little　less　than　full　that　the　eye　could　barely　detect　its　slight　tendency　to　bee　concave；　shone　serenely；　creating　a　desirable　bination　of　black　shadows　where　the　prowler　might　hide　and　great　stretches　of　light　in　which　the　prowler　might　reveal　his　wickedness　without　disguise。　Mr　Pickering　walked　briskly　along　the　road；　then　less　briskly　as　he　drew　nearer　the　farm。　An　opportune　belt　of　shrubs　that　ran　from　the　gate　adjoining　the　road　to　a　point　not　far　from　the　house　gave　him　just　the　cover　he　needed。　He　slipped　into　this　belt　of　shrubs　and　be