the innocence of father brown- 第24部分

　thrown　out　bodily；　and　silently　watched　the　other　three　walk　away　together　through　the　garden。　　　　　〃That　was　a　sound；　spanking　lie　I　told　just　now；〃　remarked　the　medical　man；　laughing。　　〃In　point　of　fact；　poor　Quinton　doesn't　have　his　sleeping　draught　for　nearly　half　an　hour。　　But　I'm　not　going　to　have　him　bothered　with　that　little　beast；　who　only　wants　to　borrow　money　that　he　wouldn't　pay　back　if　he　could。　　He's　a　dirty　little　scamp；　though　he　is　Mrs。　Quinton's　brother；　and　she's　as　fine　a　woman　as　ever　walked。〃　　　　　〃Yes；〃　said　Father　Brown。　　〃She's　a　good　woman。〃　　　　　〃So　I　propose　to　hang　about　the　garden　till　the　creature　has　cleared　off；〃　went　on　the　doctor；　〃and　then　I'll　go　in　to　Quinton　with　the　medicine。　　Atkinson　can't　get　in；　because　I　locked　the　door。〃　　　　　〃In　that　case；　Dr。　Harris；〃　said　Flambeau；　〃we　might　as　well　walk　round　at　the　back　by　the　end　of　the　conservatory。　　There's　no　entrance　to　it　that　way；　but　it's　worth　seeing；　even　from　the　outside。〃　　　　　〃Yes；　and　I　might　get　a　squint　at　my　patient；〃　laughed　the　doctor；　〃for　he　prefers　to　lie　on　an　ottoman　right　at　the　end　of　the　conservatory　amid　all　those　blood…red　poinsettias；　it　would　give　me　the　creeps。　　But　what　are　you　doing？〃　　　　　Father　Brown　had　stopped　for　a　moment；　and　picked　up　out　of　the　long　grass；　where　it　had　almost　been　wholly　hidden；　a　queer；　crooked　Oriental　knife；　inlaid　exquisitely　in　coloured　stones　and　metals。　　　　　〃What　is　this？〃　asked　Father　Brown；　regarding　it　with　some　disfavour。　　　　　〃Oh；　Quinton's；　I　suppose；〃　said　Dr。　Harris　carelessly；　〃he　has　all　sorts　of　Chinese　knickknacks　about　the　place。　　Or　perhaps　it　belongs　to　that　mild　Hindoo　of　his　whom　he　keeps　on　a　string。〃　　　　　〃What　Hindoo？〃　asked　Father　Brown；　still　staring　at　the　dagger　in　his　hand。　　　　　〃Oh；　some　Indian　conjuror；〃　said　the　doctor　lightly；　〃a　fraud；　of　course。〃　　　　　〃You　don't　believe　in　magic？〃　asked　Father　Brown；　without　looking　up。　　　　　〃O　crickey！　magic！〃　said　the　doctor。　　　　　〃It's　very　beautiful；〃　said　the　priest　in　a　low；　dreaming　voice；　〃the　colours　are　very　beautiful。　　But　it's　the　wrong　shape。〃　　　　　〃What　for？〃　asked　Flambeau；　staring。　　　　　〃For　anything。　　It's　the　wrong　shape　in　the　abstract。　　Don't　you　ever　feel　that　about　Eastern　art？　　The　colours　are　intoxicatingly　lovely；　but　the　shapes　are　mean　and　bad　deliberately　mean　and　bad。　　I　have　seen　wicked　things　in　a　Turkey　carpet。〃　　　　　〃Mon　Dieu！〃　cried　Flambeau；　laughing。　　　　　〃They　are　letters　and　symbols　in　a　language　I　don't　know；　but　I　know　they　stand　for　evil　words；〃　went　on　the　priest；　his　voice　growing　lower　and　lower。　　〃The　lines　go　wrong　on　purposelike　serpents　doubling　to　escape。〃　　　　　〃What　the　devil　are　you　talking　about？〃　said　the　doctor　with　a　loud　laugh。　　　　　Flambeau　spoke　quietly　to　him　in　answer。　　〃The　Father　sometimes　gets　this　mystic's　cloud　on　him；〃　he　said；　〃but　I　give　you　fair　warning　that　I　have　never　known　him　to　have　it　except　when　there　was　some　evil　quite　near。〃　　　　　〃Oh；　rats！〃　said　the　scientist。　　　　　〃Why；　look　at　it；〃　cried　Father　Brown；　holding　out　the　crooked　knife　at　arm's　length；　as　if　it　were　some　glittering　snake。　〃Don't　you　see　it　is　the　wrong　shape？　　Don't　you　see　that　it　has　no　hearty　and　plain　purpose？　　It　does　not　point　like　a　spear。　　It　does　not　sweep　like　a　scythe。　　It　does　not　look　like　a　weapon。　　It　looks　like　an　instrument　of　torture。〃　　　　　〃Well；　as　you　don't　seem　to　like　it；〃　said　the　jolly　Harris；　〃it　had　better　be　taken　back　to　its　owner。　　Haven't　we　come　to　the　end　of　this　confounded　conservatory　yet？　　This　house　is　the　wrong　shape；　if　you　like。〃　　　　　〃You　don't　understand；〃　said　Father　Brown；　shaking　his　head。　〃The　shape　of　this　house　is　quaintit　is　even　laughable。　　But　there　is　nothing　wrong　about　it。〃　　　　　As　they　spoke　they　came　round　the　curve　of　glass　that　ended　the　conservatory；　an　uninterrupted　curve；　for　there　was　neither　door　nor　window　by　which　to　enter　at　that　end。　　The　glass；　however；　was　clear；　and　the　sun　still　bright；　though　beginning　to　set；　and　they　could　see　not　only　the　flamboyant　blossoms　inside；　but　the　frail　figure　of　the　poet　in　a　brown　velvet　coat　lying　languidly　on　the　sofa；　having；　apparently；　fallen　half　asleep　over　a　book。　　He　was　a　pale；　slight　man；　with　loose；　chestnut　hair　and　a　fringe　of　beard　that　was　the　paradox　of　his　face；　for　the　beard　made　him　look　less　manly。　　These　traits　were　well　known　to　all　three　of　them；　but　even　had　it　not　been　so；　it　may　be　doubted　whether　they　would　have　looked　at　Quinton　just　then。　　Their　eyes　were　riveted　on　another　object。　　　　　Exactly　in　their　path；　immediately　outside　the　round　end　of　the　glass　building；　was　standing　a　tall　man；　whose　drapery　fell　to　his　feet　in　faultless　white；　and　whose　bare；　brown　skull；　face；　and　neck　gleamed　in　the　setting　sun　like　splendid　bronze。　　He　was　looking　through　the　glass　at　the　sleeper；　and　he　was　more　motionless　than　a　mountain。　　　　　〃Who　is　that？〃　cried　Father　Brown；　stepping　back　with　a　hissing　intake　of　his　breath。　　　　　〃Oh；　it　is　only　that　Hindoo　humbug；〃　growled　Harris；　〃but　I　don't　know　what　the　deuce　he's　doing　here。〃　　　　　〃It　looks　like　hypnotism；〃　said　Flambeau；　biting　his　black　moustache。　　　　　〃Why　are　you　unmedical　fellows　always　talking　bosh　about　hypnotism？〃　cried　the　doctor。　　〃It　looks　a　deal　more　like　burglary。〃　　　　　〃Well；　we　will　speak　to　it；　at　any　rate；〃　said　Flambeau；　who　was　always　for　action。　　One　long　stride　took　him　to　the　place　where　the　Indian　stood。　　Bowing　from　his　great　height；　which　overtopped　even　the　Oriental's；　he　said　with　placid　impudence：　　　　　〃Good　evening；　sir。　　Do　you　want　anything？〃　　　　　Quite　slowly；　like　a　great　ship　turning　into　a　harbour；　the　great　yellow　face　turned；　and　looked　at　last　over　its　white　shoulder。　　They　were　startled　to　see　that　its　yellow　eyelids　were　quite　sealed；　as　in　sleep。　　〃Thank　you；〃　said　the　face　in　excellent　English。　　〃I　want　nothing。〃　　Then；　half　opening　the　lids；　so　as　to　show　a　slit　of　opalescent　eyeball；　he　repeated；　〃I　want　nothing。〃　　Then　he　opened　his　eyes　wide　with　a　startling　stare；　said；　〃I　want　nothing；〃　and　went　rustling　away　into　the　rapidly　darkening　garden。　　　　　〃The　Christian　is　more　modest；〃　muttered　Father　Brown；　〃he　wants　something。〃　　　　　〃What　on　earth　was　he　doing？〃　asked　Flambeau；　knitting　his　black　brows　and　lowering　his　voice。　　　　　〃I　should　like　to　talk　to　you　later；〃　said　Father　Brown。　　　　　The　sunlight　was　still　a　reality；　but　it　was　the　red　light　of　evening；　and　the　bulk　of　the　garden　trees　and　bushes　grew　blacker　and　blacker　against　it。　　They　turned　round　the　end　of　the　conservatory；　and　walked　in　silence　down　the　other　side　to　get　round　to　the　front　door。　　As　they　went　they　seemed　to　wake　something；　as　one　startles　a　bird；　in　the　deeper　corner　between　the　study　and　the　main　building；　and　again　they　saw　the　white…robed　fakir　slide　out　of　the　shadow；　and　slip　round　towards　the　front　door。　　To　their　surprise；　however；　he　had　not　been　alone。　　They　found　themselves　abruptly　pulled　up　and　forced　to　banish　their　bewilderment　by　the　appearance　of　Mrs。　Quinton；　with　her　heavy　golden　hair　and　square　pale　face；　advancing　on　them　out　of　the　twilight。　　She　looked　a　little　stern；　but　was　entirely　courteous。　　　　　〃Good　evening；　Dr。　Harris；〃　was　all　she　said。　　　　　〃Good　evening；　Mrs。　Quinton；〃　said　the　little　doctor　heartily。　〃I　am　just　going　to　give　your　husband　his　sleeping　draught。〃　　　　　〃Yes；〃　she　said　in　a　clear　voice。　　〃I　think　it　is　quite　time。〃　And　she　smiled　at　them；　and　went　sweeping　into　the　house。　　　　　〃That　woman's　over…driven；〃　said　Father　Brown；　〃that's　the　kind　of　woman　that　does　her　duty　for　twenty　years；　and　then　does　something　dreadful。〃　　　　　The　little　doctor　looked　at　him　for　the　first　time　with　an　eye　of　interest。　　〃Did　you　ever　study　medicine？〃　he　asked。　　　　　〃You　have　to　know　something　of　the　mind　as　well　as　the　body；〃　answered　the　priest；　〃we　have　to　know　something　of　the　body　as　well　as　the　mind。〃　　　　　〃Well；〃　said　the　doctor；　〃I　think　I'll　go　and　give　Quinton　his　stuff。〃　　　　　They　had　turned　the　corner　of　the　front　facade；　and　were　approaching　the　front　doorway。　　As　they　turned　into　it　they　saw　the　man　in　the　white　robe　for　the　third　time。　　He　came　so　straight　towards　the　front　door　that　it　seemed　quite　incredible　that　he　had　not　just　come　out　of　the　study　opposite　to　it。　　Yet　they　knew　that　the　study　door　was　locked。　　　　　Father　Brown　and　Flambeau；　however；　kept　this　weird　contradiction　to　themselves；　and　Dr。　Harris　was　not　a　man　to　waste　his　thoughts　on　the　impossible。　　He　permitted　the　omnipresent　Asiatic　to　make　his　exit；　and　then　stepped　briskly　into　the　hall。　　There　he　found　a　figure　which　he　had　already　forgotten。　　The　inane　Atkinson　was　still　hanging　about；　humming　and　poking　things　with　his　knobby　cane。　　The　doctor's　face　had　a　spasm　of　disgust　and　decision；　and　he　whispered　rapidly　to　his　companion：　〃I　must　lock　the　door　again；　or　this　rat　will　get　in。　But　I　shall　be　out　again　in　two　minutes。〃　　　　　He　rapidly　unlocked　the　door　and　locked　it　again　behind　him；　just　balking　a　blundering　charge　from　the　young　man　in　the　billycock。　　The　young　man　threw　himself　impatiently　on　a　hall　chair。　　Flambeau　looked　at　a　Persian　illumination　on　the　wall；　Father　Brown；　who　seemed　in　a　sort　of　daze；　dully　eyed　the　door。　In　about　four　minutes　the　door　was　opened　again。　　Atkinson　was　quicker　this　time。　　He　sprang　forward；　held　the　door　open　for　an　instant；　and　called　out：　〃Oh；　I　say；　Quinton；　I　want〃　　　　　From　the　other　end　of　the　study　came　the　clear　voice　of　Quinton；　in　something　between　a　yawn　and　a　yell　of　weary　laughter。　　　　　〃Oh；　I　know　what　you　want。　　Take　it；　and　leave　me　in　peace。　I'm　writing　a　song　about　peacocks。〃　　　　　Before　the　door　closed　half　a　sovereign　came　flying　through　the　aperture；　and　Atkinson；　stumbling　forward；　caught　it　with　singular　dexterity。　　　　　〃So　that's　settled；〃　said　the　doctor；　and；　locking　the　door　savagely；　he　led　the　way　out　into　the　garden。　　　　　〃Poor　Leonard　can　get　a　little　peace　now；〃　he　added　to　Father　Brown；　〃he's　locked　in　all　by　himself　for　an　hour　or　two。〃　　　　　〃Yes；〃　answered　the　priest；　〃and　his　voice　sounded　jolly　enough　when　we　left　him。〃　　Then　he　looked　gravely　round　the　garden；　and　saw　the　loose　figure　of　Atkinson　standing　and　jingling　the　half…sovereign　in　his　pocket；　and　beyond；　in　the　purple　twilight；　the　figure　of　the　Indian　sitting　bolt　upright　upon　a　bank