pgw.uneasymoney-第24部分

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　'I　wouldn't　dream　of　deserting　you。'
　'That's　awfully　good　of　you。'
　'Besides；　I'm　not　going　to　be　left　alone　to…night　until　I　can　jump　into　my　little　white　bed　and　pull　the　clothes　over　my　head。　I'm　scared；　I'm　just　boneless　with　fright。　And　I　wouldn't　go　anywhere　near　Lady　Wetherby's　doorstep　with　it。'
　'Him。'
　'It's　no　use；　I　can't　think　of　it　as　〃him。〃　It's　no　good　asking　me　to。'
　Bill　frowned　thoughtfully。
　'I　read　a　story　once　where　two　chappies　wanted　to　get　rid　of　a　body。　They　put　it　inside　a　fellow's　piano。'
　'You　do　seem　to　have　read　the　most　horrible　sort　of　books。'
　'I　rather　like　a　bit　of　blood　with　my　fiction；'　said　Bill。　'What　about　this　piano　scheme　I　read　about？'
　'People　only　have　talking　machines　in　these　parts。'
　'I　read　a　story'
　'Let's　try　to　forget　the　stories　you've　read。　Suggest　something　of　your　own。'
　'Well；　could　we　dissect　the　little　chap？'
　'Dissect　him？'
　'And　bury　him　in　the　cellar；　you　know。　Fellows　do　it　to　their　wives。'
　Elizabeth　shuddered。
　'Try　again；'　she　said。
　'Well；　the　only　other　thing　I　can　think　of　is　to　take　him　into　the　woods　and　leave　him　there。　It's　a　pity　we　can't　let　Lady　Wetherby　know　where　he　is；　she　seems　rather　keen　on　him。　But　I　suppose　the　main　point　is　to　get　rid　of　him。'
　'I　know　how　we　can　do　both。　That's　a　good　idea　of　yours　about　the　woods。　They　are　part　of　Lady　Wetherby's　property。　I　used　to　wander　about　there　in　the　spring　when　the　house　was　empty。　There's　a　sort　of　shack　in　the　middle　of　them。　I　shouldn't　think　anybody　ever　went　thereit's　a　deserted　sort　of　place。　We　could　leave　him　there；　and　thenwell；　we　might　write　Lady　Wetherby　a　letter　or　something。　We　could　think　out　that　part　afterward。'
　'It's　the　best　thing　we've　thought　of。　You　really　want　to　e？'
　'If　you　attempt　to　leave　here　without　me　I　shall　scream。　Let's　be　starting。'
　Bill　picked　Eustace　up　by　his　convenient　tail。
　'I　read　a　story　once；'　he　said；　'where　a　fellow　was　lugging　a　corpse　through　a　wood；　when　suddenly'
　'Stop　right　there；'　said　Elizabeth　firmly。
　During　the　conversation　just　recorded　Dudley　Pickering　had　been　keeping　a　watchful　eye　on　Bill　and　Elizabeth　from　the　interior　of　a　bush。　His　was　not　the　ideal　position　for　espionage；　for　he　was　too　far　off　to　hear　what　they　said；　and　the　light　was　too　dim　to　enable　him　to　see　what　it　was　that　Bill　was　holding。　It　looked　to　Mr　Pickering　like　a　sack　or　bag　of　some　sort。　As　time　went　by　he　became　convinced　that　it　was　a　sack；　limp　and　empty　at　present；　but　destined　later　to　receive　and　bulge　with　what　he　believed　was　technically　known　as　the　swag。　When　the　two　objects　of　vigilance　concluded　their　lengthy　consultation；　and　moved　off　in　the　direction　of　Lady　Wetherby's　woods；　any　doubts　he　may　have　had　as　to　whether　they　were　the　criminals　he　had　suspected　them　of　being　were　dispersed。　The　whole　thing　worked　out　logically。
　The　Man；　having　spied　out　the　land　in　his　two　visits　to　Lady　Wetherby's　house；　was　now　about　to　break　in。　His　acplice　would　stand　by　with　the　sack。　With　a　beating　heart　Mr　Pickering　gripped　his　revolver　and　moved　round　in　the　shadow　of　the　shrubbery　till　he　came　to　the　gate；　when　he　was　just　in　time　to　see　the　guilty　couple　disappear　into　the　woods。　He　followed　them。　He　was　glad　to　get　on　the　move　again。　While　he　had　been　wedged　into　the　bush；　quite　a　lot　of　the　bush　had　been　wedged　into　him。　Something　sharp　had　pressed　against　the　calf　of　his　leg；　and　he　had　been　pinched　in　a　number　of　tender　places。　And　he　was　convinced　that　one　more　of　God's　unpleasant　creatures　had　got　down　the　back　of　his　neck。
　Dudley　Pickering　moved　through　the　wood　as　snakily　as　he　could。　Nature　had　shaped　him　more　for　stability　than　for　snakiness；　but　he　did　his　best。　He　tingled　with　the　excitement　of　the　chase；　and　endeavoured　to　creep　through　the　undergrowth　like　one　of　those　intelligent　Indians　of　whom　he　had　read　so　many　years　before　in　the　pages　of　Mr　Fenimore　Cooper。　In　those　days　Dudley　Pickering　had　not　thought　very　highly　of　Fenimore　Cooper；　holding　his　work　deficient　in　serious　and　scientific　interest；　but　now　it　seemed　to　him　that　there　had　been　something　in　the　man　after　all；　and　he　resolved　to　get　some　of　his　books　and　go　over　them　again。　He　wished　he　had　read　them　more　carefully　at　the　time；　for　they　doubtless　contained　much　information　and　many　hints　which　would　have　e　in　handy　just　now。　He　seemed；　for　example；　to　recall　characters　in　them　who　had　the　knack　of　going　through　forests　without　letting　a　single　twig　crack　beneath　their　feet。　Probably　the　author　had　told　how　this　was　done。　In　his　unenlightened　state　it　was　beyond　Mr　Pickering。　The　wood　seemed　carpeted　with　twigs。　Whenever　he　stepped　he　trod　on　one；　and　whenever　he　trod　on　one　it　cracked　beneath　his　feet。　There　were　moments　when　he　felt　gloomily　that　he　might　just　as　well　be　firing　a　machine…gun。
　Bill；　meanwhile；　Elizabeth　following　close　behind　him；　was　ploughing　his　way　onward。　From　time　to　time　he　would　turn　to　administer　some　encouraging　remark；　for　it　had　e　home　to　him　by　now　that　encouraging　remarks　were　what　she　needed　very　much　in　the　present　crisis　of　her　affairs。　She　was　showing　him　a　new　and　hitherto　unsuspected　side　of　her　character。　The　Elizabeth　whom　he　had　knownthe　valiant；　self…reliant　Elizabethhad　gone；　leaving　in　her　stead　someone　softer；　more　appealing；　more　approachable。　It　was　this　that　was　filling　him　with　strange　emotions　as　he　led　the　way　to　their　destination。
　He　was　being　more　and　more　conscious　of　a　sense　of　being　drawn　very　near　to　Elizabeth；　of　a　desire　to　soothe；　fort；　and　protect　her。　It　was　as　if　to…night　he　had　discovered　the　missing　key　to　a　puzzle　or　the　missing　element　in　some　chemical　bination。　Like　most　big　men；　his　mind　was　essentially　a　protective　mind；　weakness　drew　out　the　best　that　was　in　him。　And　it　was　only　to…night　that　Elizabeth　had　given　any　sign　of　having　any　weakness　in　her　position。　That　clear　vision　which　had　e　to　him　on　his　long　walk　came　again　now；　that　vivid　conviction　that　she　was　the　only　girl　in　the　world　for　him。
　He　was　debating　within　himself　the　advisability　of　trying　to　find　words　to　express　this　sentiment；　when　Mr　Pickering；　the　modern　Chingachgook；　trod　on　another　twig　in　the　background　and　Elizabeth　stopped　abruptly　with　a　little　cry。
　'What　was　that？'　she　demanded。
　Bill　had　heard　a　noise　too。　It　was　impossible　to　be　within　a　dozen　yards　of　Mr　Pickering；　when　on　the　trail；　and　not　hear　a　noise。　The　suspicion　that　someone　was　following　them　did　not　e　to　him；　for　he　was　a　man　rather　of　mon　sense　than　of　imagination；　and　mon　sense　was　asking　him　bluntly　why　the　deuce　anybody　should　want　to　tramp　after　them　through　a　wood　at　that　time　of　night。　He　caught　the　note　of　panic　in　Elizabeth's　voice；　and　was　soothing　her。
　'It　was　just　a　branch　breaking。　You　hear　all　sorts　of　rum　noises　in　a　wood。'
　'I　believe　it's　the　man　with　the　pistol　following　us！'
　'Nonsense。　Why　should　he？　Silly　thing　to　do！'　He　spoke　almost　severely。
　'Look！'　cried　Elizabeth。
　'What？'
　'I　saw　someone　dodge　behind　that　tree。'
　'You　mustn't　let　yourself　imagine　things。　Buck　up！'
　'I　can't　buck　up。　I'm　scared。'
　'Which　tree　did　you　think　you　saw　someone　dodge　behind？'
　'That　big　one　there。'
　'Well；　listen：　I'll　go　back　and'
　'If　you　leave　me　for　an　instant　I　shall　die　in　agonies。'　She　gulped。　'I　never　knew　I　was　such　a　coward　before。　I'm　just　a　worm。'
　'Nonsense。　This　sort　of　thing　might　frighten　anyone。　I　read　a　story　once'
　'Don't！'
　Bill　found　that　his　heart　had　suddenly　begun　to　beat　with　unaccustomed　rapidity。　The　desire　to　soothe；　fort；　and　protect　Elizabeth　became　the　immediate　ambition　of　his　life。　It　was　very　dark　where　they　stood。　The　moonlight；　which　fell　in　little　patches　round　them；　did　not　penetrate　the　thicket　which　they　had　entered。　He　could　hardly　see　her。　He　was　merely　aware　of　her　as　a　presence。　An　excellent　idea　occurred　to　him。
　'Hold　my　hand；'　he　said。
　It　was　what　he　would　have　said　to　a　frightened　child；　and　there　was　much　of　the　frightened　child　about　Elizabeth　then。　The　Eustace　mystery　had　given　her　a　shock　which　subsequent　events　had　done　nothing　to　dispel；　and　she　had　lost　that　jauntiness　and　self…confidence　which　was　her　natural　armour　against　the　more　ordinary　happenings　of　life。
　Something　small　and　soft　slid　gratefully　into　his　palm；　and　there　was　silence　for　a　space。　Bill　said　nothing。　Elizabeth　said　nothing。　And　Mr　Pickering　had　stopped　treading　on　twigs。　The　faintest　of　night　breezes　ruffled　the　tree…tops　above　them。　The　moonbeams　filtered　through　the　branches。　He　held　her　hand　tightly。
　'Better？'
　'Much。'
　The　breeze　died　away。　Not　a　leaf　stirred。　The　wood　was　very　still。　Somewhere　on　a　bough　a　bird　moved　drowsily　'All　right？'
　'Yes。'
　And　then　something　happenedsomething　shattering；　disintegrating。　It　was　only　a　pheasant；　but　it　sounded　like　the　end　of　the　world。　It　rose　at　their　feet　with　a　rattle　that　filled　the　universe；　and　for　a　moment　all　was　black　confusion。　And　when　that　moment　had　passed　it　became　apparent　to　Bill　that　his　arm　was　round　Elizabeth；　that　she　was　sobbing　helplessly；　and　that　he　was　kissing　her。　Somebody　was　talking　very　rapidly　in　a　low　voice。
　He　found　that　it　was　himself。
　'Elizabeth！'
　There　was　something　wonderful　about　the　name；　a　sort　of　music。　This　was　odd；　because　the　name；　as　a　name；　was　far　from　being　a　favourite　of　his。　Until　that　moment　childish　associations　had　prejudiced　him　against　it。　It　had　been　inextricably　involved　in　his　mind　with　an　atmosphere　of　stuffy　schoolrooms　and　general　misery；　for　it　had　been　his　misfortune　that　his　budding　mind　was　constitutionally　incapable　of　remembering　who　had　been　Queen　of　England　at　the　time　of　the　Spanish　Armadaa　fact　that　had　caused　a　good　deal　of　friction　with　a　rather　sharp…tempered　governess。　But　now　it　seemed　the　only　possible　name　for　a　girl　to　have；　the　only　label　that　could　even　remotely　suggest　those　feminine　charms　which　he　found　in　this　girl　beside　him。　There　was　poetry　in　every　syllable　of　it。　It　was　like　one　of　those　deep　chords　which　fill　the　hearer　with　vague　yearnings　for　strange　and　beautiful　things。　He　asked　for　nothing　better　than　to　stand　here　repeating　it。
　'Elizabeth！'
　'Bill；　dear！'
　That　sounded　good　too。　There　was　music　in　'Bill'　when　properly　spoken。　The　reason　why　all　the　other　Bills　in　the　world　had　got　the　impression　that　it　was　a　prosaic　sort　of　name　was　that　there　was　only　one　girl　in　existence　capable　of　speaking　it　properly；　and　she　was　not　for　them。
　'Bill；　are　you　really　fond　of　me？'
　'Fond　of　you！'
　She　gave　a　sigh。　'You're　so　splendid！'
　Bill　was　staggered。　These　were　strange　words。　He　had　never　thought　much　of　himself。　He　had　always　looked　on　himself　as　rather　a　chumpwell…meaning；　perhaps；　but　an　awful　ass。　It　seemed　incredible　that　any　oneand　Elizabeth　of　all　peoplecould　look　on　him　as　splendid。
　And　yet　the　very　fact　that　she　had　said　it　gave　it　a　plausible　sort　of　sound。　It　shook　his　convictions。　Splendid！　Was　he？　By　Jove；　perhaps　he　was；　what？　Rum　idea；　but　it　grew　on　a　chap。　Filled　with　a　novel　feeling　of　exaltation；　he　kissed　Elizabeth　eleven　times　in　rapid　succession。
　He　felt　devilish　fit。　He　would　have　liked　to　run　a　mile　or　two　and　jump　a　few　gates。　He　wished　five　or　six　starving