the lost road-第69部分

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an　alibi；　the　money　might　have　been　removed　by　an　outsider。　　The
court…martial　gave　Swanson　the　benefit　of　the　doubt；　and　a　reprimand
for　not　taking　greater　care　of　the　keys；　and　Swanson　made　good　the
five　thousand。

Swanson　did　not　think　it　was　a　burglar　who　had　robbed　the　safe。
He　thought　Rueff　had　robbed　it；　but　he　could　not　possibly　prove
that。　　At　the　time　of　the　robbery　Rueff　was　outside　the　Presidio；
in　uniform；　at　a　moving…picture　show　in　San　Francisco。　　A　dozen
people　saw　him　there。　　Besides；　Rueff　held　an　excellent　record。
He　was　a　silent；　clerk…like　young　man；　better　at　〃paper　work〃　than
campaigning；　but　even　as　a　soldier　he　had　never　come　upon　the　books。
And　he　had　seen　service　in　two　campaigns；　and　was　supposed　to
cherish　ambitions　toward　a　commission。　　But；　as　he　kept　much　to
himself；　his　fellow　non…coms　could　only　guess　that。

On　his　captain's　account　he　was　loyally　distressed　over　the
court…martial；　and　in　his　testimony　tried　to　shield　Swanson；　by
agreeing　heartily　that　through　his　own　carelessness　the　keys
might　have　fallen　into　the　hands　of　some　one　outside　the　post。
But　his　loyalty　could　not　save　his　superior　officer　from　what　was
a　verdict　virtually　of　〃not　proven。〃

It　was　a　most　distressing　affair；　and；　on　account　of　the　social
prominence　of　Swanson's　people；　his　own　popularity；　and　the　name
he　had　made　at　Batangas　and　in　the　Boxer　business；　was　much
commented　upon；　not　only　in　the　services；　but　by　the　newspapers
all　over　the　United　States。


Every　one　who　knew　Swanson　knew　the　court…martial　was　only　a
matter　of　form。　　Even　his　enemies　ventured　only　to　suggest　that
overnight　he　might　have　borrowed　the　money；　meaning　to　replace　it
the　next　morning。　　And　the　only　reason　for　considering　this　explanation
was　that　Swanson　was　known　to　be　in　debt。　　For　he　was　a　persistent
gambler。　　Just　as　at　Pekin　he　had　gambled　with　death　for　his　number；
in　times　of　peace　he　gambled　for　money。　　It　was　always　his　own　money。

From　the　start　Swanson's　own　attitude　toward　the　affair　was　one
of　blind；　unreasoning　rage。　　In　it　he　saw　no　necessary　routine　of
discipline；　only　crass；　ignorant　stupidity。　　That　any　one　should
suspect　him　was　so　preposterous；　so　unintelligent；　as　to　be　nearly
comic。　　And　when；　instantly；　he　demanded　a　court　of　inquiry；　he
could　not　believe　it　when　he　was　summoned　before　a　court…martial。
It　sickened；　wounded；　deeply　affronted　him；　turned　him　quite　savage。

On　his　stand　his　attitude　and　answers　were　so　insolent　that　his
old　friend　and　classmate；　Captain　Copley；　who　was　acting　as　his
counsel；　would　gladly　have　kicked　him。　　The　findings　of　the
court…martial；　that　neither　cleared　nor　condemned；　and　the
reprimand；　were　an　intolerable　insult　to　his　feelings；　and；　in　a
fit　of　bitter　disgust　with　the　service　and　every　one　in　it；　Swanson
resigned。　　Of　course；　the　moment　he　had　done　so　he　was　sorry。
Swanson's　thought　was　that　he　could　no　longer　associate　with
any　one　who　could　believe　him　capable　of　theft。　　It　was　his
idea　of　showing　his　own　opinion　of　himself　and　the　army。

But　no　one　saw　it　in　that　light。　　On　the　contrary；　people　said：
〃Swanson　has　been　allowed　to　resign。〃　I　n　the　army；　voluntarily
resigning　and　being　〃allowed　to　resign〃　lest　greater　evils　befall；
are　two　vastly　different　things。　　And　when　it　was　too　late　no　one
than　Swanson　saw　that　more　clearly。　　His　anger　gave　way　to　extreme
morbidness。　　He　believed　that　in　resigning　he　had　assured　every　one
of　his　guilt。　　In　every　friend　and　stranger　he　saw　a　man　who　doubted
him。　　He　imagined　snubs；　rebuffs；　and　coldnesses。　　His　morbidness
fastened　upon　his　mind　like　a　parasite　upon　a　tree；　and　the　brain
sickened。　　When　men　and　women　glanced　at　his　alert；　well…set…up
figure　and　shoulders；　that　even　when　he　wore　〃cits〃　seemed　to　support
epaulets；　and　smiled　approvingly；　Swanson　thought　they　sneered。　　In
a　week　he　longed　to　be　back　in　the　army　with　a　homesickness　that　made
every　one　who　belonged　to　it　his　enemy。

He　left　San　Francisco；　where　he　was　known　to　all；　and　travelled
south　through　Texas；　and　then　to　New　Orleans　and　Florida。　　He
never　could　recall　this　period　with　clearness。　　He　remembered
changing　from　one　train　to　another；　from　one　hotel　to　the　next。
Nothing　impressed　itself　upon　him。　　For　what　he　had　lost　nothing
could　give　consolation。　　Without　honor　life　held　no　charm。　　And
he　believed　that　in　the　eyes　of　all　men　he　was　a　thief；　a　pariah；
and　an　outcast。

He　had　been　in　Cuba　with　the　Army　of　Occupation；　and　of　that
beautiful　island　had　grown　foolishly　fond。　　He　was　familiar　with
every　part　of　it；　and　he　believed　in　one　or　another　of　its　pretty
ports　he　could　so　completely　hide　himself　that　no　one　could
intrude　upon　his　misery。　　In　the　States；　in　the　newspapers　he
seemed　to　read　only　of　those　places　where　he　had　seen　service；　of
those　places　and　friends　and　associates　he　most　loved。　　In　the
little　Cuban　village　in　which　he　would　bury　himself　he　would　cut
himself　off　from　all　newspapers；　from　all　who　knew　him；　from
those　who　had　been　his　friends；　and　those　who　knew　his　name　only
to　connect　it　with　a　scandal。

On　his　way　from　Port　Tampa　to　Cuba　the　boat　stopped　at　Key　West；
and　for　the　hour　in　which　she　discharged　cargo　Swanson　went
ashore　and　wandered　aimlessly。　　The　little　town；　reared　on　a　flat
island　of　coral　and　limestone；　did　not　long　detain　him。　　The　main
street　of　shops；　eating…houses；　and　saloons；　the　pretty　residences
with　overhanging　balconies；　set　among　gardens　and　magnolia…trees；
were　soon　explored；　and　he　was　returning　to　the　boat　when　the　martial
music　of　a　band　caused　him　to　halt。　　A　side　street　led　to　a　great　gateway
surmounted　by　an　anchor。　　Beyond　it　Swanson　saw　lawns　of　well…kept
grass；　regular　paths；　pretty　cottages；　the　two…starred　flag　of　an　admiral；
and；　rising　high　above　these；　like　four　Eiffel　towers；　the　gigantic　masts
of　a　wireless。　　He　recognized　that　he　was　at　the　entrance　to　the　Key
West　naval　station；　and　turned　quickly　away。

He　walked　a　few　feet；　the　music　of　the　band　still　in　his　ears。　　In
an　hour　he　would　be　steaming　toward　Cuba；　and；　should　he　hold　to
his　present　purpose；　in　many　years　this　would　be　the　last　time　he
would　stand　on　American　soil；　would　see　the　uniform　of　his　country；
would　hear　a　military　band　lull　the　sun　to　sleep。　　It　would　hurt；　but
he　wondered　if　it　were　not　worth　the　hurt。　　A　smart　sergeant　of　marines；
in　passing；　cast　one　glance　at　the　man　who　seemed　always　to　wear
epaulets；　and　brought　his　hand　sharply　to　salute。　　The　act　determined
Swanson。　　He　had　obtained　the　salute　under　false　pretenses；　but　it　had
pleased；　not　hurt　him。　　He　turned　back　and　passed　into　the　gate　of　the
naval　station。

From　the　gate　a　grass…lined　carriage　drive　led　to　the　waters　of
the　harbor　and　the　wharfs。　　At　its　extreme　end　was　the　band…stand；
flanked　on　one　side　by　the　cottage　of　the　admiral；　on　the　other
by　a　sail…loft　with　iron…barred　windows　and　whitewashed　walls。
Upon　the　turf　were　pyramids　of　cannon…balls　and；　laid　out　in　rows
as　though　awaiting　burial；　old…time　muzzle…loading　guns。　　Across
the　harbor　the　sun　was　sinking　into　the　coral　reefs；　and　the　spring
air；　still　warm　from　its　caresses；　was　stirred　by　the　music　of　the
band　into　gentle；　rhythmic　waves。　　The　scene　was　one　of　peace；
order；　and　content。

But　as　Swanson　advanced；　the　measure　of　the　music　was　instantly
shattered　by　a　fierce　volley　of　explosions。　　They　came　so　suddenly
and　sharply　as　to　make　him　start。　　It　was　as　though　from　his　flank
a　quick…firing　gun　in　ambush　had　opened　upon　him。　　Swanson　smiled
at　having　been　taken　unawares。　　For　in　San　Francisco　he　often　had
heard　the　roar　and　rattle　of　the　wireless。　　But　never　before　had　he
listened　to　an　attack　like　this。

From　a　tiny　white…and…green　cottage；　squatting　among　the　four
giant　masts；　came　the　roar　of　a　forest　fire。　　One　could　hear　the
crackle　of　the　flames；　the　crash　of　the　falling　tree…trunks。　　The
air　about　the　cottage　was　torn　into　threads；　beneath　the　shocks
of　the　electricity　the　lawn　seemed　to　heave　and　tremble。　　It　was
like　some　giant　monster；　bound　and　fettered；　struggling　to　be
free。　　Now　it　growled　sullenly；　now　in　impotent　rage　it　spat　and
spluttered；　now　it　lashed　about　with　crashing；　stunning　blows。　　It
seemed　as　though　the　wooden　walls　of　the　station　could　not
contain　it。

From　the　road　Swanson　watched；　through　the　open　windows　of　the
cottage；　the　electric　bolts　flash　and　flare　and　disappear。　　The　thing
appealed　to　his　imagination。　　Its　power；　its　capabilities　fascinated
him。　　In　it　he　saw　a　hungry　monster　reaching　out　to　every　corner
of　the　continent　and　devouring　the　news　of　the　world；　feeding
upon　tales　of　shipwreck　and　disaster；　lingering　over　some　dainty
morsel　of　scandal；　snatching　from　ships　and　cities　two　thousand
miles　away　the　thrice…told　tale　of　a　conflagration；　the　score　of　a
baseball　match；　the　fall　of　a　cabinet；　the　assassination　of　a　king。

In　a　sudden　access　of　fierceness；　as　though　in　an　ecstasy　over
some　fresh　horror　just　received；　it　shrieked　and　chortled。　　And
then；　as　suddenly　as　it　had　broken　forth；　it　sank　to　silence；　and
from　the　end　of　the　carriage　drive　again　rose；　undisturbed；　the
music　of　the　band。

The