the lodger- 第18部分

It　was　only　a　bottle　of　red　ink　she　had　upset　…　that　was　all！　　How　could　she　have　thought　it　was　anything　else？

It　was　the　more　silly　of　her　…　so　she　told　herself　in　scornful　condemnation　…　because　she　knew　that　the　lodger　used　red　ink。　Certain　pages　of　Cruden's　Concordance　were　covered　with　notes　written　in　Mr。　Sleuth's　peculiar　upright　handwriting。　　In　fact　in　some　places　you　couldn't　see　the　margin；　so　closely　covered　was　it　with　remarks　and　notes　of　interrogation。

Mr　Sleuth　had　foolishly　placed　his　bottle　of　red　ink　in　the　chiffonnier　…　that　was　what　her　poor；　foolish　gentleman　had　done；　and　it　was　owing　to　her　inquisitiveness；　her　restless　wish　to　know　things　she　would　be　none　the　better；　none　the　happier；　for　knowing；　that　this　accident　had　taken　place。

She　mopped　up　with　her　duster　the　few　drops　of　ink　which　had　fallen　on　the　green　carpet　and　then；　still　feeling；　as　she　angrily　told　herself；　foolishly　upset　she　went　once　more　into　the　back　room。

It　was　curious　that　Mr。　Sleuth　possessed　no　notepaper。　　She　would　have　expected　him　to　have　made　that　one　of　his　first　purchases　…　the　more　so　that　paper　is　so　very　cheap；　especially　that　rather　dirty…looking　grey　Silurian　paper。　　Mrs。　Buntlng　had　once　lived　with　a　lady　who　always　used　two　kinds　of　notepaper；　white　for　her　friends　and　equals；　grey　for　those　whom　she　called　〃common　people。〃　　She；　Ellen　Green；　as　she　then　was；　had　always　resented　the　fact。　　Strange　she　should　remember　it　now；　stranger　in　a　way　because　that　employer　of　her's　had　not　been　a　real　lady；　and　Mr。　Sleuth；　whatever　his　peculiarities；　was；　in　every　sense　of　the　word；　a　real　gentleman。　Somehow　Mrs。　Bunting　felt　sure　that　if　he　had　bought　any　notepaper　it　would　have　been　white　…　white　and　probably　cream…laid　…　not　grey　and　cheap。

Again　she　opened　the　drawer　of　the　old…fashioned　wardrobe　and　lifted　up　the　few　pieces　of　underclothing　Mr。　Sleuth　now　possessed。

But　there　was　nothing　there　…　nothing；　that　is；　hidden　away。　　When　one　came　to　think　of　it　there　seemed　something　strange　in　the　notion　of　leaving　all　one's　money　where　anyone　could　take　it；　and　in　locking　up　such　a　valueless　thing　as　a　cheap　sham　leather　bag；　to　say　nothing　of　a　bottle　of　ink。

Mrs。　Bunting　once　more　opened　out　each　of　the　tiny　drawers　below　the　　looking…glass；　each　delicately　fashioned　of　fine　old　mahogany。　　Mr。　Sleuth　kept　his　money　in　the　centre　drawer。

The　glass　had　only　cost　seven…and…sixpence；　and；　after　the　auction　a　dealer　had　come　and　offered　her　first　fifteen　shillings；　and　then　a　guinea　for　it。　　Not　long　ago；　in　Baker　Street；　she　had　seen　a　looking…glass　which　was　the　very　spit　of　this　one；　labeled　〃Chippendale；　Antique。　？15s0d。〃

There　lay　Mr。　Sleuth's　money　…　the　sovereigns；　as　the　landlady　well　knew；　would　each　and　all　gradually　pass　into　her's　and　Bunting's　possession；　honestly　earned　by　them　no　doubt　but　unattainable　…　in　　act　unearnable　…　excepting　in　connection　with　the　present　owner　of　those　dully　shining　gold　sovereigns。

At　last　she　went　downstairs　to　await　Mr。　Sleuth's　return。

When　she　heard　the　key　turn　in　the　door；　she　came　out　into　the　passage。

〃I'm　sorry　to　say　I've　had　an　accident；　sir；〃　she　said　a　little　breathlessly。　　〃Taking　advantage　of　your　being　out　I　went　up　to　dust　the　drawing…room；　and　while　I　was　trying　to　get　behind　the　chiffonnier　it　tilted。　　I'm　afraid；　sir；　that　a　bottle　of　ink　that　was　inside　may　have　got　broken；　for　just　a　few　drops　oozed　out；　sir。　　But　I　hope　there's　no　harm　done。　　I　wiped　it　up　as　well　as　I　could；　seeing　that　the　doors　of　the　chiffonnier　are　locked。〃

Mr。　Sleuth　stared　at　her　with　a　wild；　almost　a　terrified　glance。　But　Mrs。　Bunting　stood　her　ground。　　She　felt　far　less　afraid　now　than　she　had　felt　before　he　came　in。　　Then　she　had　been　so　frightened　that　she　had　nearly　gone　out　of　the　house；　on　to　the　pavement；　for　company。

〃Of　course　I　had　no　idea；　sir；　that　you　kept　any　ink　in　there。〃

She　spoke　as　if　she　were　on　the　defensive；　and　the　lodger's　brow　cleared。

〃I　was　aware　you　used　ink；　sir；〃　Mrs。　Bunting　went　on；　〃for　I　have　seen　you　marking　that　book　of　yours　…　I　mean　the　book　you　read　together　with　the　Bible。　　Would　you　like　me　to　go　out　and　get　you　another　bottle；　sir？〃

〃No；〃　said　Mr。　Sleuth。　　〃No；　I　thank　you。　　I　will　at　once　proceed　upstairs　and　see　what　damage　has　been　done。　　When　I　require　you　I　shall　ring。〃

He　shuffled　past　her；　and　five　minutes　later　the　drawing…room　bell　did　ring。

At　once；　from　the　door；　Mrs。　Bunting　saw　that　the　chiffonnier　was　wide　open；　and　that　the　shelves　were　empty　save　for　the　bottle　of　red　ink　which　had　turned　over　and　now　lay　in　a　red　pool　of　its　own　making　on　the　lower　shelf。

〃I'm　afraid　it　will　have　stained　the　wood；　Mrs。　Bunting。　　Perhaps　I　was　ill…advised　to　keep　my　ink　in　there。〃

〃Oh；　no；　sir！　　That　doesn't　matter　at　all。　　Only　a　drop　or　two　fell　out　on　to　the　carpet；　and　they　don't　show；　as　you　see；　sir；　for　it's　a　dark　corner。　　Shall　I　take　the　bottle　away？　　I　may　as　well。〃

Mr。　Sleuth　hesitated。　　〃No；〃　he　said；　after　a　long　pause；　〃I　think　not；　Mrs。　Bunting。　　For　the　very　little　I　require　it　the　ink　remaining　in　the　bottle　will　do　quite　well；　especially　if　I　add　a　little　water；　or　better　still；　a　little　tea；　to　what　already　remains　in　the　bottle。　　I　only　require　it　to　mark　up　passages　which　happen　to　be　of　peculiar　interest　in　my　Concordance　…　a　work；　Mrs。　Bunting；　which　I　should　have　taken　great　pleasure　in　compiling　myself　had　not　this　…　ah　…　this　gentleman　called　Cruden；　been　before。　

******

Not　only　Bunting；　but　Daisy　also；　thought　Ellen　far　pleasanter　in　her　manner　than　usual　that　evening。　　She　listened　to　all　they　had　to　say　about　their　interesting　visit　to　the　Black　Museum；　and　did　not　snub　either　of　them　…　no；　not　even　when　Bunting　told　of　the　dreadful；　haunting；　silly…looking　death…masks　taken　from　the　hanged。

But　a　few　minutes　after　that；　when　her　husband　suddenly　asked　her　a　question；　Mrs。　Bunting　answered　at　random。　　It　was　clear　she　had　not　heard　the　last　few　words　he　had　been　saying。

〃A　penny　for　your　thoughts！〃　he　said　jocularly。　　But　she　shook　her　head。

Daisy　slipped　out　of　the　room；　and；　five　minutes　later；　came　back　dressed　up　in　a　blue…and…white　check　silk　gown。

〃My！〃　said　her　father。　　〃You　do　look　fine；　Daisy。　　I've　never　seen　you　wearing　that　before。〃

〃And　a　rare　figure　of　fun　she　looks　in　it！〃　observed　Mrs。　Bunting　sarcastically。　　And　then；　〃I　suppose　this　dressing　up　means　that　you're　expecting　someone。　　I　should　have　thought　both　of　you　must　have　seen　enough　of　young　Chandler　for　one　day。　　I　wonder　when　that　young　chap　does　his　work　…　that　I　do！　　He　never　seems　too　busy　to　come　and　waste　an　hour　or　two　here。〃

But　that　was　the　only　nasty　thing　Ellen　said　all　that　evening。　　And　even　Daisy　noticed　that　her　stepmother　seemed　dazed　and　unlike　herself。　　She　went　about　her　cooking　and　the　various　little　things　she　had　to　do　even　more　silently　than　was　her　wont。

Yet　under　that　still；　almost　sullen；　manner；　how　fierce　was　the　storm　of　dread；　of　sombre；　anguish；　and；　yes；　of　sick　suspense；　which　shook　her　soul；　and　which　so　far　affected　her　poor；　ailing　body　that　often　she　felt　as　if　she　could　not　force　herself　to　accomplish　　her　simple　round　of　daily　work。

After　they　had　finished　supper　Bunting　went　out　and　bought　a　penny　evening　paper；　but　as　he　came　in　he　announced；　with　a　rather'　rueful　smile；　that　he　had　read　so　much　of　that　nasty　little　print　this　last　week　or　two　that　his　eyes　hurt　him。

〃Let　me　read　aloud　a　bit　to　you；　father；〃　said　Daisy　eagerly；　and　he　handed　her　the　paper。

Scarcely　had　Daisy　opened　her　lips　when　a　loud　ring　and　a　knock　echoed　through　the　house。

CHAPTER　XI

It　was　only　Joe。　　Somehow；　even　Bunting　called　him　〃Joe〃　now；　and　no　longer　〃Chandler；〃　as　he　had　mostly　used　to　do。

Mrs。　　Bunting　had　opened　the　front　door　only　a　very　little　way。　She　wasn't　going　to　have　any　strangers　pushing　in　past　her。

To　her　sharpened；　suffering　senses　her　house　had　become　a　citadel　which　must　be　defended；　aye；　even　if　the　besiegers　were　a　mighty　horde　with　right　on　their　side。　　And　she　was　always　expecting　that　first　single　spy　who　would　herald　the　battalion　against　whom　her　only　weapon　would　be　her　woman's　wit　and　cunning。

But　when　she　saw　who　stood　there　smiling　at　her；　the　muscles　of　her　face　relaxed；　and　it　lost　the　tense；　anxious；　almost　agonised　look　it　assumed　the　moment　she　turned　her　back　on　her　husband　and　stepdaughter。

〃Why；　Joe；〃　she　whispered；　for　she　had　left　the　door　open　behind　her；　and　Daisy　had　already　begun　to　read　aloud；　as　her　father　had　bidden　her。　　〃Come　in；　do！　　It's　fairly　cold　to…night。〃

A　glance　at　his　face　had　shown　her　that　there　was　no　fresh　news。

Joe　Chandler　walked　in；　past　her；　into　the　little　hall。　　Cold？　Well；　he　didn't　feel　cold；　for　he　had　walked　quickly　to　be　the　sooner　where　he　was　now。

Nine　days　had　gone　by　since　that　last　terrible　occurrence；　the　double　murder　which　had　been　committed　early　in　the　morning　of　the　day　Daisy　had　arrived　in　London。　　And　though　the　thousands　of　men　belonging　to　the　Metropolitan　Police　…　to　say　nothing　of　the　smaller；　more　alert　body　of　detectives　attached　to　the　Force　…　were　keenly　on　the　alert；　not　one　but　had　begun　to　feel　that　there　was