five tales-第8部分

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r　dark；　wide…apart；　brown　eyes　gazed　up　in　the　happiness　of　her　abandonmenthe　felt　only　tenderness　and　protection。

He　left　her　at　five　o'clock；　and　had　not　gone　two　streets'　length　before　the　memory　of　the　little　grey　vagabond；　screwed　back　in　the　far　corner　of　the　dock　like　a　baited　raccoon；　of　his　dreary；　creaking　voice；　took　possession　of　him　again；　and　a　kind　of　savagery　mounted　in　his　brain　against　a　world　where　one　could　be　so　tortured　without　having　meant　harm　to　anyone。

At　the　door　of　his　lodgings　Keith　was　getting　out　of　a　cab。　　They　went　in　together；　but　neither　of　them　sat　down；　Keith　standing　with　his　back　to　the　carefully　shut　door；　Laurence　with　his　back　to　the　table；　as　if　they　knew　there　was　a　tug　coming。　　And　Keith　said：　〃There's　room　on　that　boat。　　Go　down　and　book　your　berth　before　they　shut。　　Here's　the　money！〃

〃I'm　going　to　stick　it；　Keith。〃

Keith　stepped　forward；　and　put　a　roll　of　notes　on　the　table。

〃Now　look　here；　Larry。　　I've　read　the　police　court　proceedings。　There's　nothing　in　that。　　Out　of　prison；　or　in　prison　for　a　few　weeks；　it's　all　the　same　to　a　night…bird　of　that　sort。　　Dismiss　it　from　your　mindthere's　not　nearly　enough　evidence　to　convict。　　This　gives　you　your　chance。　　Take　it　like　a　man；　and　make　a　new　life　for　yourself。〃

Laurence　smiled；　but　the　smile　had　a　touch　of　madness　and　a　touch　of　malice。　　He　took　up　the　notes。

〃Clear　out；　and　save　the　honour　of　brother　Keith。　　Put　them　back　in　your　pocket；　Keith；　or　I'll　put　them　in　the　fire。　　Come；　take　them！〃　And；　crossing　to　the　fire；　he　held　them　to　the　bars。　　〃Take　them；　or　in　they　go！〃

Keith　took　back　the　notes。

〃I've　still　got　some　kind　of　honour；　Keith；　if　I　clear　out　I　shall　have　none；　not　the　rag　of　any；　left。　　It　may　be　worth　more　to　me　than　thatI　can't　tell　yetI　can't　tell。〃　　There　was　a　long　silence　before　Keith　answered。　　〃I　tell　you　you're　mistaken；　no　jury　will　convict。　　If　they　did；　a　judge　would　never　hang　on　it。　　A　ghoul　who　can　rob　a　dead　body　ought　to　be　in　prison。　　What　he　did　is　worse　than　what　you　did；　if　you　come　to　that！〃　　Laurence　lifted　his　face。　〃Judge　not；　brother；〃　he　said；　〃the　heart　is　a　dark　well。〃　　Keith's　yellowish　face　grew　red　and　swollen；　as　though　he　were　mastering　the　tickle　of　a　bronchial　cough。　　〃What　are　you　going　to　do；　then？　　I　suppose　I　may　ask　you　not　to　be　entirely　oblivious　of　our　name；　or　is　such　a　consideration　unworthy　of　your　honour？〃　　Laurence　bent　his　head。　　The　gesture　said　more　clearly　than　words：　'Don't　kick　a　man　when　he's　down！'

〃I　don't　know　what　I'm　going　to　donothing　at　present。　　I'm　awfully　sorry；　Keith；　awfully　sorry。〃

Keith　looked　at　him；　and　without　another　word　went　out。




VI

To　any；　save　philosophers；　reputation　may　be　threatened　almost　as　much　by　disgrace　to　name　and　family　as　by　the　disgrace　of　self。　Keith's　instinct　was　always　to　deal　actively　with　danger。　　But　this　blow；　whether　it　fell　on　him　by　discovery　or　by　confession；　could　not　be　countered。　　As　blight　falls　on　a　rose　from　who　knows　where；　the　scandalous　murk　would　light　on　him。　　No　repulse　possible！　　Not　even　a　wriggling　from　under！　　Brother　of　a　murderer　hung　or　sent　to　penal　servitude！　　His　daughter　niece　to　a　murderer！　　His　dead　mother…a　murderer's　mother！　　And　to　wait　day　after　day；　week　after　week；　not　knowing　whether　the　blow　would　fall；　was　an　extraordinarily　atrocious　penance；　the　injustice　of　which；　to　a　man　of　rectitude；　seemed　daily　the　more　monstrous。

The　remand　had　produced　evidence　that　the　murdered　man　had　been　drinking　heavily　on　the　night　of　his　death；　and　further　evidence　of　the　accused's　professional　vagabondage　and　destitution；　it　was　shown；　too；　that　for　some　time　the　archway　in　Glove　Lane　had　been　his　favourite　night　haunt。　　He　had　been　committed　for　trial　in　January。　This　time；　despite　misgivings；　Keith　had　attended　the　police　court。　To　his　great　relief　Larry　was　not　there。　　But　the　policeman　who　had　come　up　while　he　was　looking　at　the　archway；　and　given　him　afterwards　that　scare　in　the　girl's　rooms；　was　chief　witness　to　the　way　the　accused　man　haunted　Glove　Lane。　　Though　Keith　held　his　silk　hat　high；　he　still　had　the　uncomfortable　feeling　that　the　man　had　recognised　him。

His　conscience　suffered　few；　if　any；　twinges　for　letting　this　man　rest　under　the　shadow　of　the　murder。　　He　genuinely　believed　that　there　was　not　evidence　enough　to　convict；　nor　was　it　in　him　to　appreciate　the　tortures　of　a　vagabond　shut　up。　　The　scamp　deserved　what　he　had　got；　for　robbing　a　dead　body；　and　in　any　case　such　a　scarecrow　was　better　off　in　prison　than　sleeping　out　under　archways　in　December。　　Sentiment　was　foreign　to　Keith's　character；　and　his　justice　that　of　those　who　subordinate　the　fates　of　the　weak　and　shiftless　to　the　needful　paramountcy　of　the　strong　and　well　established。

His　daughter　came　back　from　school　for　the　Christmas　holidays。　　It　was　hard　to　look　up　from　her　bright　eyes　and　rosy　cheeks　and　see　this　shadow　hanging　above　his　calm　and　ordered　life；　as　in　a　glowing　room　one's　eye　may　catch　an　impending　patch　of　darkness　drawn　like　a　spider's　web　across　a　corner　of　the　ceiling。

On　the　afternoon　of　Christmas　Eve　they　went；　by　her　desire；　to　a　church　in　Soho；　where　the　Christmas　Oratorio　was　being　given；　and　coming　away　passed；　by　chance　of　a　wrong　turning；　down　Borrow　Street。　Ugh！　　How　that　startled　moment；　when　the　girl　had　pressed　herself　against　him　in　the　dark；　and　her　terror…stricken　whisper：　〃Oh！　　Who　is　it？〃　　leaped　out　before　him！　　Always　that　businessthat　ghastly　business！　　After　the　trial　he　would　have　another　try　to　get　them　both　away。　　And　he　thrust　his　arm　within　his　young　daughter's；　hurrying　her　on；　out　of　this　street　where　shadows　filled　all　the　winter　air。

But　that　evening　when　she　had　gone　to　bed　he　felt　uncontrollably　restless。　　He　had　not　seen　Larry　for　weeks。　　What　was　he　about？　　What　desperations　were　hatching　in　his　disorderly　brain？　　Was　he　very　miserable；　had　he　perhaps　sunk　into　a　stupor　of　debauchery？　　And　the　old　feeling　of　protectiveness　rose　up　in　him；　a　warmth　born　of　long　ago　Christmas　Eves；　when　they　had　stockings　hung　out　in　the　night　stuffed　by　a　Santa　Claus；　whose　hand　never　failed　to　tuck　them　up；　whose　kiss　was　their　nightly　waft　into　sleep。

Stars　were　sparkling　out　there　over　the　river；　the　sky　frosty…clear；　and　black。　　Bells　had　not　begun　to　ring　as　yet。　　And　obeying　an　obscure；　deep　impulse；　Keith　wrapped　himself　once　more　into　his　fur　coat；　pulled　a　motoring　cap　over　his　eyes；　and　sallied　forth。　In　the　Strand　he　took　a　cab　to　Fitzroy　Street。　　There　was　no　light　in　Larry's　windows；　and　on　a　card　he　saw　the　words　〃To　Let。〃　　Gone！　　Had　he　after　all　cleared　out　for　good？　　But　how…without　money？　　And　the　girl？　　Bells　were　ringing　now　in　the　silent　frostiness。　　Christmas　Eve！　　And　Keith　thought：　'If　only　this　wretched　business　were　off　my　mind！　　Monstrous　that　one　should　suffer　for　the　faults　of　others！'　He　took　a　route　which　led　him　past　Borrow　Street。　　Solitude　brooded　there；　and　he　walked　resolutely　down　on　the　far　side；　looking　hard　at　the　girl's　window。　　There　was　a　light。　　The　curtains　just　failed　to　meet；　so　that　a　thin　gleam　shone　through。　　He　crossed；　and　after　glancing　swiftly　up　and　down；　deliberately　peered　in。

He　only　stood　there　perhaps　twenty　seconds；　but　visual　records　gleaned　in　a　moment　sometimes　outlast　the　visions　of　hours　and　days。　The　electric　light　was　not　burning；　but；　in　the　centre　of　the　room　the　girl　was　kneeling　in　her　nightgown　before　a　little　table　on　which　were　four　lighted　candles。　　Her　arms　were　crossed　on　her　breast；　the　candle…light　shone　on　her　fair　cropped　hair；　on　the　profile　of　cheek　and　chin；　on　her　bowed　white　neck。　　For　a　moment　he　thought　her　alone；　then　behind　her　saw　his　brother　in　a　sleeping　suit；　leaning　against　the　wall；　with　arms　crossed；　watching。　　It　was　the　expression　on　his　face　which　burned　the　whole　thing　in；　so　that　always　afterwards　he　was　able　to　see　that　little　scenesuch　an　expression　as　could　never　have　been　on　the　face　of　one　even　faintly　conscious　that　he　was　watched　by　any　living　thing　on　earth。　The　whole　of　Larry's　heart　and　feeling　seemed　to　have　come　up　out　of　him。　Yearning；　mockery；　love；　despair！　　The　depth　of　his　feeling　for　this　girl；　his　stress　of　mind；　fears；　hopes；　the　flotsam　good　and　evil　of　his　soul；　all　transfigured　there；　exposed　and　unforgettable。　　The　candle…light　shone　upward　on　to　his　face；　twisted　by　the　strangest　smile；　his　eyes；　darker　and　more　wistful　than　mortal　eyes　should　be；　seemed　to　beseech　and　mock　the　white…clad　girl；　who；　all　unconscious；　knelt　without　movement；　like　a　carved　figure　of　devotion。　　The　words　seemed　coming　from　his　lips：　〃Pray　for　us！　　Bravo！　　Yes！　　Pray　for　us！〃　　And　suddenly　Keith　saw　her　stretch　out　her　arms；　and　lift　her　face　with　a　look　of　ecstasy；　and　Laurence　starting　forward。　　What　had　she　seen　beyond　the　candle　flames？　　It　is　the　unexpected　which　invests　visions　with　poignancy。　　Nothing　more　strange　could　Keith　have　seen　in　this　nest　of　the　murky　and　illicit。　　But　in　sheer　panic　lest　he　might　be　caught　thus　spying　he　drew　back　and　hurried　on。　So　Larry　was　living　there　with　her！　　When　the　moment　came　he　could　still　find　him。

Before　going　in；　he　stood　full　five　minutes　leaning　on　the　terrace　parapet　before