pgw.uneasymoney-第26部分

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re　making　for　the　house；　but　they　went　into　the　shack。'
　'What　did　they　do　then？'　asked　Lady　Wetherby
　'They　came　out　again。'
　'Why？'
　'That's　what　I　was　trying　to　find　out。'
　Lord　Wetherby　uttered　an　exclamation。
　'By　Jove！'　There　was　apprehension　in　his　voice；　but　mingled　with　it　a　certain　pleased　surprise。　'Perhaps　they　were　after　my　picture。　I'll　light　the　lamp。　Good　Lord；　picture　thievesRomneys　missing　Gainsboroughs'　His　voice　trailed　off　as　he　found　the　lamp　and　lit　it。　Relief　and　disappointment　were　nicely　blended　in　his　next　words：　'No；　it's　still　there。'
　The　soft　light　of　the　lamp　filled　the　studio。
　'Well；　that's　a　fort；'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　sauntering　in。　'We　couldn't　afford　to　loseOh！'
　Lord　Wetherby　spun　round　as　her　scream　burst　upon　his　already　tortured　nerve　centres。　Lady　Wetherby　was　kneeling　on　the　floor。　Claire　hurried　in。
　'What　is　it；　Polly？'
　Lady　Wetherby　rose　to　her　feet；　and　pointed。　Her　face　had　lost　its　look　of　patient　amusement。　It　was　hard　and　set。　She　eyed　Mr　Pickering　in　a　menacing　way。
　'Look！'
　Claire　followed　her　finger。
　'Good　gracious！　It's　Eustace！'
　'Shot！'
　She　was　looking　intently　at　Mr　Pickering。　'Well；　Dudley；'　she　said；　coldly；　'what　about　it？'
　Mr　Pickering　found　that　they　were　all　looking　at　himLady　Wetherby　with　glittering　eyes；　Claire　with　cool　scorn；　Lord　Wetherby　with　a　horror　which　he　seemed　to　have　achieved　with　something　of　an　effort。
　'Well！'　said　Claire。
　'What　about　it；　Dudley？'　said　Lady　Wetherby。
　'I　must　say；　Pickering；'　said　Lord　Wetherby；　'much　as　I　disliked　the　animal；　it's　a　bit　thick！'
　Mr　Pickering　recoiled　from　their　accusing　gaze。
　'Good　heavens！　Do　you　think　I　did　it？'
　In　the　midst　of　his　anguish　there　flashed　across　his　mind　the　recollection　of　having　seen　just　this　sort　of　situation　in　a　moving　picture；　and　of　having　thought　it　far…fetched。
　Lady　Wetherby's　good…tempered　mouth；　far　from　good…tempered　now；　curled　in　a　devastating　sneer。　She　was　looking　at　him　as　Claire；　in　the　old　days　when　they　had　toured　England　together　in　road　panies；　had　sometimes　seen　her　look　at　recalcitrant　landladies。　The　landladies；　without　exception；　had　wilted　beneath　that　gaze；　and　Mr　Pickering　wilted　now。
　'Butbutbut'　was　all　he　could　contrive　to　say。
　'Why　should　we　think　you　did　it？'　said　Lady　Wetherby；　bitterly。　'You　had　a　grudge　against　the　poor　brute　for　biting　you。　We　find　you　hiding　here　with　a　pistol　and　a　story　about　burglars　which　an　infant　couldn't　swallow。　I　suppose　you　thought　that；　if　you　planted　the　poor　creature's　body　here；　it　would　be　up　to　Algie　to　get　rid　of　it；　and　that　if　he　were　found　with　it　I　should　think　that　it　was　he　who　had　killed　the　animal。'
　The　look　of　horror　which　Lord　Wetherby　had　managed　to　assume　became　genuine　at　these　words。　The　gratitude　which　he　had　been　feeling　towards　Mr　Pickering　for　having　removed　one　of　the　chief　trials　of　his　existence　vanished。
　'Great　Scot！'　he　cried。　'So　that　was　the　game；　was　it？'
　Mr　Pickering　struggled　for　speech。　This　was　a　nightmare。
　'But　I　didn't！　I　didn't！　I　didn't！　I　tell　you　I　hadn't　the　remotest　notion　the　creature　was　there。'
　'Oh；　e；　Pickering！'　said　Lord　Wetherby。　'e；　e；　e！'
　Mr　Pickering　found　that　his　accusers　were　ebbing　away。　Lady　Wetherby　had　gone。　Claire　had　gone。　Only　Lord　Wetherby　remained；　looking　at　him　like　a　pained　groom。　He　dashed　from　the　place　and　followed　his　hostess；　speaking　incoherently　of　burglars；　outhouses；　and　misunderstandings。　He　even　mentioned　Chingachgook。　But　Lady　Wetherby　would　not　listen。　Nobody　would　listen。
　He　found　Lord　Wetherby　at　his　side；　evidently　prepared　to　go　deeper　into　the　subject。　Lord　Wetherby　was　looking　now　like　a　groom　whose　favourite　horse　has　kicked　him　in　the　stomach。
　'Wouldn't　have　thought　it　of　you；　Pickering；'　said　Lord　Wetherby。　Mr　Pickering　found　no　words。　'Wouldn't；　honestly。　Low　trick！'
　'But　I　tell　you'
　'Devilish　low　trick！'　repeated　Lord　Wetherby；　with　a　shake　of　the　head。　'Laws　of　hospitalityeaten　our　bread　and　salt；　what！all　that　sort　of　thingkill　valuable　monkeynot　done；　you　knowlow；　very　low！'
　And　he　followed　his　wife；　now　in　full　retreat；　with　scorn　and　repulsion　written　in　her　very　walk。
　'Mr　Pickering！'
　It　was　Claire。　She　stood　there；　holding　something　towards　him；　something　that　glittered　in　the　moonlight。　Her　voice　was　hard；　and　the　expression　on　her　face　suggested　that　in　her　estimation　he　was　a　particularly　low…grade　worm；　one　of　the　submerged　tenth　of　the　worm　world。
　'Eh？'　said　Mr　Pickering；　dazedly。
　He　looked　at　what　she　had　in　her　hand；　but　it　conveyed　nothing　to　his　overwrought　mind。
　'Take　it！'
　'Eh？'
　Claire　stamped。
　'Very　well；'　she　said。
　She　flung　something　on　the　ground　before　hima　small；　sparkling　object。　Then　she　swept　away；　his　eyes　following　her；　and　was　lost　in　the　darkness　of　the　trees。　Mechanically　Mr　Pickering　stooped　to　pick　up　what　she　had　let　fall。　He　recognized　it　now。　It　was　her　engagement　ring。
　
　19
　Bill　leaned　his　back　against　the　gate　that　separated　the　grounds　of　the　bee…farm　from　the　high　road　and　mused　pleasantly。　He　was　alone。　Elizabeth　was　walking　up　the　drive　on　her　way　to　the　house　to　tell　the　news　to　Nutty。　James；　the　cat；　who　had　e　down　from　the　roof　of　the　outhouse；　was　sharpening　his　claws　on　a　neighbouring　tree。　After　the　whirl　of　excitement　that　had　been　his　portion　for　the　past　few　hours；　the　peace　of　it　all　appealed　strongly　to　Bill。　It　suited　the　mood　of　quiet　happiness　which　was　upon　him。
　Quietly　happy；　that　was　how　he　felt　now　that　it　was　all　over。　The　white　heat　of　emotion　had　subsided　to　a　gentle　glow　of　contentment　conducive　to　thought。　He　thought　tenderly　of　Elizabeth。　She　had　turned　to　wave　her　hand　before　going　into　the　house；　and　he　was　still　smiling　fatuously。　Wonderful　girl！　Lucky　chap　he　was！　Rum；　the　way　they　had　e　together！　Talk　about　Fate；　what？
　He　stooped　to　tickle　James；　who　had　finished　stropping　his　claws　and　was　now　enjoying　a　friction　massage　against　his　leg；　and　began　to　brood　on　the　inscrutable　way　of　Fate。
　Rum　thing；　Fate！　Most　extraordinary！
　Suppose　he　had　never　gone　down　to　Marvis　Bay　that　time。　He　had　wavered　between　half　a　dozen　places；　it　was　pure　chance　that　he　had　chosen　Marvis　Bay。　If　he　hadn't　he　would　never　have　met　old　Nutbe。　Probably　old　Nutbe　had　wavered　between　half　a　dozen　places　too。　If　they　hadn't　both　happened　to　choose　Marvis　Bay　they　would　never　have　met。　And　if　they　hadn't　been　the　only　visitors　there　they　might　never　have　got　to　know　each　other。　And　if　old　Nutbe　hadn't　happened　to　slice　his　approach　shots　he　would　never　have　put　him　under　an　obligation。　Queer　old　buster；　old　Nutbe；　leaving　a　fellow　he　hardly　knew　from　Adam　a　cool　million　quid　just　because　he　cured　him　of　slicing。
　It　was　at　this　point　in　his　meditations　that　it　suddenly　occurred　to　Bill　that　he　had　not　yet　given　a　thought　to　what　was　immeasurably　the　most　important　of　any　of　the　things　that　ought　to　be　occupying　his　mind　just　now。　What　was　he　to　do　about　this　Lord　Dawlish　business？
　Life　at　Brookport　had　so　accustomed　him　to　being　plain　Bill　Chalmers　that　it　had　absolutely　slipped　his　mind　that　he　was　really　Lord　Dawlish；　the　one　man　in　the　world　whom　Elizabeth　looked　on　as　an　enemy。　What　on　earth　was　he　to　do　about　that？　Tell　her？　But　if　he　told　her；　wouldn't　she　chuck　him　on　the　spot？
　This　was　awful。　The　dreamy　sense　of　well…being　left　him。　He　straightened　himself　to　face　this　problem；　ignoring　the　hint　of　James；　who　was　weaving　circles　about　his　legs　expectant　of　more　tickling。　A　man　cannot　spend　his　time　tickling　cats　when　he　has　to　concentrate　on　a　dilemma　of　this　kind。
　Suppose　he　didn't　tell　her？　How　would　that　work　out？　Was　a　marriage　legal　if　the　cove　who　was　being　married　went　through　it　under　a　false　name？　He　seemed　to　remember　seeing　a　melodrama　in　his　boyhood　the　plot　of　which　turned　on　that　very　point。　Yes；　it　began　to　e　back　to　him。　An　unpleasant　bargee　with　a　black　moustache　had　said；　'This　woman　is　not　your　wife！'　and　caused　the　dickens　of　a　lot　of　unpleasantness；　but　there　in　its　usual　slipshod　way　memory　failed。　Had　subsequent　events　proved　the　bargee　right　or　wrong？　It　was　a　question　for　a　lawyer　to　decide。　Jerry　Nichols　would　know。　Well；　there　was　plenty　of　time；　thank　goodness；　to　send　Jerry　Nichols　a　cable；　asking　for　his　professional　opinion；　and　to　get　the　straight　tip　long　before　the　wedding　day　arrived。
　Laying　this　part　of　it　aside　for　the　moment；　and　assuming　that　the　thing　could　be　worked；　what　about　the　money？　Like　a　chump；　he　had　told　Elizabeth　on　the　first　day　of　his　visit　that　he　hadn't　any　money　except　what　he　made　out　of　his　job　as　secretary　of　the　club。　He　couldn't　suddenly　spring　five　million　dollars　on　her　and　pretend　that　he　had　forgotten　all　about　it　till　then。
　Of　course；　he　could　invent　an　imaginary　uncle　or　something；　and　massacre　him　during　the　honeymoon。　Something　in　that。　He　pictured　the　thing　in　his　mind。　Breakfast：　Elizabeth　doling　out　the　scrambled　eggs。　'What's　the　matter；　Bill？　Why　did　you　exclaim　like　that？　Is　there　some　bad　news　in　the　letter　you　are　reading？'
　'Oh；　it's　nothingonly　my　Uncle　John's　died　and　left　me　five　million　dollars。'
　The　scene　worked　out　so　well　that　his　mind　became　a　little　above　itself。　It　suggested　developments　of　serpentine　craftiness。　Why　not　get　Jerry　Nichols　to　write　him　a　letter　about　his　Uncle　John　and　the　five　millions？　Jerry　liked　doing　that　sort　of　thing。　He　would　do　it　like　a　shot；　and　chuck　in　a　lot　of　legal　words　to　make　it　sound　right。　It　began　to　be　clear　to　Bill　that　any　move　he　tookexcept　full　confession；　at　which　he　jibbedwas　going　to　involve　Jerry　Nichols　as　an　ally；　and　this　discovery　had　a　soothing　effect　on　him。　It　made　him　feel　that　the　responsibility　had　been　shifted。　He　couldn't　do　anything　till　he　had　consulted　Jerry；　so　there　was　no　use　in　worrying。　And；　being　one　of　those　rare　persons　who　can　cease　worrying　instantly　when　they　have　convinced　themselves　that　it　is　useless；　he　dismissed　the　entire　problem　from　his　mind　and　returned　to　the　more　congenial　occupation　of　thinking　of　Elizabeth。
　It　was　a　peculiar　feature　of　his　position　that　he　found　himself　unable　to　think　of　Elizabeth　without　thinking　of　Claire。　He　tried　to；　but　failed。　Every　virtue　in　Elizabeth　seemed　to　call　up　the　recollection　of　a　corresponding　defect　in　Claire　It　became　almost　mathematical。　Elizabeth　was　so　straight　on　the　level　they　called　it　over　here。　Claire　was　a　corkscrew　among　women。　Elizabeth　was　sunny　and　cheerful。　Querulousness　was　Claire's　besetting　sin。　Elizabeth　was　such　a　pal。　Claire　had　never　been　that。　The　effect　that　Claire　had　always　had　on　him　was　to　deepen　the　conviction；　which　never　really　left　him；　that　he　was　a　bit　of　an　ass。　Elizabeth；　on　the　other　hand；　bucked　him　up　and　made　him　feel　as　if　he　really　amounted　to　something。
　How　different　they　were！　Their　very　voicesElizabeth　had　a　sort　of　quiet；　soothing；　pleasant　voice；　the　kind　of　voice　that　somehow　suggested　that　she　thought　a　lot　of　a　chap　without　her　having　to　say　it　in　so　many　words。　Whereas　Claire's　voicehe　had　noticed　it　right　from　the　beginningClaire's　voice
　While　he　was　trying　to　make　clear　to　himself　just　what　it　was　about　Claire's　voice　that　he　had　not　liked　he　was　granted　the　opportunity　of　analysi