英语听力 学英语,练听力,上听力课堂! 注册 登录
> 在线听力 > 有声读物 > 世界名著 > 译林版·非洲的百万富翁 >  第12篇

双语·非洲的百万富翁 第十二章 老贝利街[45]

所属教程:译林版·非洲的百万富翁

浏览:

2022年05月01日

手机版
扫描二维码方便学习和分享

When we reached Bow Street, we were relieved to find that our prisoner, after all, had not evaded us. It was a false alarm.He was there with the policeman, and he kindly allowed us to make the first formal charge against him.

Of course, on Charles's sworn declaration and my own, the man was at once remanded, bail being refused, owing both to the serious nature of the charge and the slippery character of the prisoner's antecedents. We went back to Mayfair—Charles, well satisfied that the man he dreaded was under lock and key;myself, not too well pleased to think that the man I dreaded was no longer at large, and that the trifing little episode of the ten per cent commission stood so near discovery.

Next day the police came round in force, and had a long consultation with Charles and myself. They strongly urged that two other persons at least should be included in the charge—Césarine and the little woman whom we had variously known as Madame Picardet, White Heather, Mrs.David Granton, and Mrs.Elihu Quackenboss.If these accomplices were arrested, they said, we could include conspiracy as one count in the indictment, which gave us an extra chance of conviction.Now they had got Colonel Clay, in fact, they naturally desired to keep him, and also to indict with him as many as possible of his pals and confederates.

Here, however, a difficulty arose. Charles called me aside with a grave face into the library.“Seymour,”he said, fxing me,“this is a serious business.I will not lightly swear away any woman's character.Colonel Clay himself—or, rather, Paul Finglemore—is an abandoned rogue, whom I do not desire to screen in any degree.But poor little Madame Picardet—she may be his lawful wife, and she may have acted implicitly under his orders.Besides, I don't know whether I could swear to her identity.Here's the photograph the police bring of the woman they believe to be Colonel Clay's chief female accomplice.Now, I ask you, does it in the least degree resemble that clever and amusing and charming little creature, who has so often deceived us?”

In spite of Charles's gibes, I fatter myself I do really understand the whole duty of a secretary. It was clear from his voice he did not wish me to recognise her;which, as it happened, I did not.“Certainly, it doesn't resemble her, Charles,”I answered, with conviction in my voice.“I should never have known her.”But I did not add that I should no more have known Colonel Clay himself in his character of Paul Finglemore, or of Césarine’s young man, as that remark lay clearly outside my secretarial functions.

Still, it flitted across my mind at the time that the Seer had made some casual remarks at Nice about a letter in Charles's pocket, presumably from Madame Picardet;and I refected further that Madame Picardet in turn might possibly hold certain answers of Charles's, couched in such terms as he might reasonably desire to conceal from Amelia. Indeed, I must allow that under whatever disguise White Heather appeared to us, Charles was always that disguise's devoted slave from the frst moment he met it.It occurred to me, therefore, that the clever little woman—call her what you will—might be the holder of more than one indiscreetcommunication.

“Under these circumstances,”Charles went on, in his austerest voice,“I cannot consent to be a party to the arrest of White Heather. I—I decline to identify her.In point of fact”—he grew more emphatic as he went on—“I don't think there is an atom of evidence of any sort against her.Not,”he continued, after a pause,“that I wish in any degree to screen the guilty.Césarine, now—Césarine we have liked and trusted.She has betrayed our trust.She has sold us to this fellow.I have no doubt at all that she gave him the diamonds from Amelia’s rivière;that she took us by arrangement to meet him at Schloss Lebenstein;that she opened and sent to him my letter to Lord Craig-Ellachie.Therefore, I say, we ought to arrest Césarine.But not White Heather—not Jessie;not that pretty Mrs.Quackenboss.Let the guilty suffer;why strike at the innocent—or, at worst, the misguided?”

“Charles,”I exclaimed, with warmth,“your sentiments do you honour. You are a man of feeling.And White Heather, I allow, is pretty enough and clever enough to be forgiven anything.You may rely upon my discretion.I will swear through thick and thin that I do not recognise this woman as Madame Picardet.”

Charles clasped my hand in silence.“Seymour,”he said, after a pause, with marked emotion,“I felt sure I could rely upon your—er—honour and integrity. I have been rough upon you sometimes.But I ask your forgiveness.I see you understand the whole duties of your position.”

We went out again, better friends than we had been for months. I hoped, indeed, this pleasant little incident might help to neutralise the possible ill-effects of the ten per cent disclosure, should Finglemore take it into his head to betray me to my employer.As we emerged into the drawing-room, Amelia beckoned me aside towards her boudoir for a moment.

“Seymour,”she said to me, in a distinctly frightened tone,“I have treated you harshly at times, I know, and I am very sorry for it. But I want you to help me in a most painful diffculty.The police are quite right as to the charge of conspiracy;that designing little minx, White Heather, or Mrs.David Granton, or whatever else we're to call her, ought certainly to be prosecuted—and sent to prison, too—and have her absurd head of hair cut short and combed straight for her.But—and you will help me here, I'm sure, dear Seymour—I cannot allow them to arrest my Césarine.I don’t pretend to say Césarine isn’t guilty;the girl has behaved most ungratefully to me.She has robbed me right and left, and deceived me without compunction.Still—I put it to you as a married man—can any woman afford to go into the witness-box, to be cross-examined and teased by her own maid, or by a brute of a barrister on her maid’s information?I assure you, Seymour, the thing’s not to be dreamt of.There are details of a lady’s life—known only to her maid—which cannot be made public.Explain as much of this as you think well to Charles, and make him understand that if he insists upon arresting Césarine, I shall go into the box—and swear my head off to prevent any one of the gang from being convicted.I have told Césarine as much;I have promised to help her:I have explained that I am her friend, and that if she’ll stand by me, I’ll stand by her, and by this hateful young man of hers.”

I saw in a moment how things went. Neither Charles nor Amelia could face cross-examination on the subject of one of Colonel Clay's accomplices.No doubt, in Amelia's case, it was merely a question of rouge and hair-dye;but what woman would not sooner confess to a forgery or a murder than to those toilet secrets?

I returned to Charles, therefore, and spent half an hour in composing, as well as I might, these little domestic difficulties. In the end, it wasarranged that if Charles did his best to protect Césarine from arrest, Amelia would consent to do her best in return on behalf of Madame Picardet.

We had next the police to tackle—a more difficult business. Still, even they were reasonable.They had caught Colonel Clay, they believed, but their chance of convicting him depended entirely upon Charles's identifcation, with mine to back it.The more they urged the necessity of arresting the female confederates, however, the more stoutly did Charles declare that for his part he could by no means make sure of Colonel Clay himself, while he utterly declined to give evidence of any sort against either of the women.It was a diffcult case, he said, and he felt far from confident even about the man.If his decision faltered, and he failed to identify, the case was closed;no jury could convict with nothing to convict upon.

At last the police gave way. No other course was open to them.They had made an important capture;but they saw that everything depended upon securing their witnesses, and the witnesses, if interfered with, were likely to swear to absolutely nothing.

Indeed, as it turned out, before the preliminary investigation at Bow Street was completed(with the usual remands),Charles had been thrown into such a state of agitation that he wished he had never caught the Colonel at all.

“I wonder, Sey,”he said to me,“why I didn't offer the rascal two thousand a year to go right off to Australia, and be rid of him for ever!It would have been cheaper for my reputation than keeping him about in courts of law in England. The worst of it is, when once the best of men gets into a witness-box, there's no saying with what shreds and tatters of a character he may at last come out of it!”

“In your case, Charles,”I answered, dutifully,“there can be no such doubt;except, perhaps, as regards the Craig-Ellachie Consolidated.”

Then came the endless bother of“getting up the case”with the police and the lawyers. Charles would have retired from it altogether by that time, but, most unfortunately, he was bound over to prosecute.“You couldn't take a lump sum to let me off?”he said, jokingly, to the inspector.But I knew in my heart it was one of the“true words spoken in jest”that the proverb tells of.

Of course we could see now the whole building-up of the great intrigue. It had been worked out as carefully as the Tichborne swindle.Young Finglemore, as the brother of Charles's broker, knew from the outset all about his affairs;and, after a gentle course of preliminary roguery, he laid his plans deep for a campaign against my brother-in-law.Everything had been deliberately designed beforehand.A place had been found for Césarine as Amelia’s maid—needless to say, by means of forged testimonials.Through her aid the swindler had succeeded in learning still more of the family ways and habits, and had acquired a knowledge of certain facts which he proceeded forthwith to use against us.His frst attack, as the Seer, had been cleverly designed so as to give us the idea that we were a mere casual prey;and it did not escape Charles’s notice now that the detail of getting Madame Picardet to inquire at the Crédit Marseillais about his bank had been solemnly gone through on purpose to blind us to the obvious truth that Colonel Clay was already in full possession of all such facts about us.It was by Césarine’s aid, again, that he became possessed of Amelia’s diamonds, that he received the letter addressed to Lord Craig-Ellachie, and that he managed to dupe us over the Schloss Lebenstein business.Nevertheless, all these things Charles determined to conceal in court;he did not give the police a single fact thatwould turn against either Césarine or Madame Picardet.

As for Césarine, of course, she left the house immediately after the arrest of the Colonel, and we heard of her no more till the day of the trial.

When that great day came, I never saw a more striking sight than the Old Bailey presented. It was crammed to overflowing.Charles arrived early, accompanied by his solicitor.He was so white and troubled that he looked much more like prisoner than prosecutor.Outside the court a pretty little woman stood, pale and anxious.A respectful crowd stared at her silently.“Who is that?”Charles asked.Though we could both of us guess, rather than see, it was White Heather.

“That's the prisoner's wife,”the inspector on duty replied.“She's waiting to see him enter. I'm sorry for her, poor thing.She's a perfect lady.”

“So she seems,”Charles answered, scarcely daring to face her.

At that moment she turned. Her eyes fell upon his.Charles paused for a second and looked faltering.There was in those eyes just the faintest gleam of pleading recognition, but not a trace of the old saucy, defiant vivacity.Charles framed his lips to words, but without uttering a sound.Unless I greatly mistake, the words he framed on his lips were these:“I will do my best for him.”

We pushed our way in, assisted by the police. Inside the court we saw a lady seated, in a quiet black dress, with a becoming bonnet.A moment passed before I knew—it was Césarine.“Who is—that person?”Charles asked once more of the nearest inspector, desiring to see in what way he would describe her.

And once more the answer came,“That's the prisoner's wife, sir.”

Charles started back, surprised.“But—I was told—a lady outside was Mrs. Paul Finglemore,”he broke in, much puzzled.

“Very likely,”the inspector replied, unmoved.“We have plenty that way. When a gentleman has as many aliases as Colonel Clay, you can hardly expect him to be over particular about having only one wife between them, can you?”

“Ah, I see,”Charles muttered, in a shocked voice.“Bigamy!”

The inspector looked stony.“Well, not exactly that,”he replied,“occasional marriage.”

Mr. Justice Rhadamanth tried the case.“I'm sorry it's him, Sey,”my brother-in-law whispered in my ear.(He said him, not he, because, whatever else Charles is, he is not a pedant;the English language as it is spoken by most educated men is quite good enough for his purpose.)“I only wish it had been Sir Edward Easy.Easy's a man of the world, and a man of society;he would feel for a person in my position.He wouldn't allow these beasts of lawyers to badger and pester me.He would back his order.But Rhadamanth is one of your modern sort of judges, who make a merit of being what they call‘conscientious,'and won’t hush up anything.I admit I’m afraid of him.I shall be glad when it’s over.”

“Oh, you'll pull through all right,”I said in my capacity of secretary. But I didn't think it.

The judge took his seat. The prisoner was brought in.Every eye seemed bent upon him.He was neatly and plainly dressed, and, rogue though he was, I must honestly confess he looked at least a gentleman.His manner was defant, not abject like Charles's.He knew he was at bay, and he turned like a man to face his accusers.

We had two or three counts on the charge, and, after some formal business, Sir Charles Vandrift was put into the box to bear witness against Finglemore.

Prisoner was unrepresented. Counsel had been offered him, but herefused their aid.The judge even advised him to accept their help;but Colonel Clay, as we all called him mentally still, declined to avail himself of the judge's suggestion.

“I am a barrister myself, my lord,”he said—“called some nine years ago. I can conduct my own defence, I venture to think, better than any of these my learned brethren.”

Charles went through his examination-in-chief quite swimmingly. He answered with promptitude.He identified the prisoner without the slightest hesitation as the man who had swindled him under the various disguises of the Reverend Richard Peploe Brabazon, the Honourable David Granton, Count von Lebenstein, Professor Schleiermacher, Dr.Quackenboss, and others.He had not the slightest doubt of the man's identity.He could swear to him anywhere.I thought, for my own part, he was a trife too cocksure.A certain amount of hesitation would have been better policy.As to the various swindles, he detailed them in full, his evidence to be supplemented by that of bank officials and other subordinates.In short, he left Finglemore not a leg to stand upon.

When it came to the cross-examination, however, matters began to assume quite a different complexion. The prisoner set out by questioning Sir Charles's identifcations.Was he sure of his man?He handed Charles a photograph.“Is that the person who represented himself as the Reverend Richard Peploe Brabazon?”he asked persuasively.

Charles admitted it without a moment's delay.

Just at that moment, a little parson, whom I had not noticed till then, rose up, unobtrusively, near the middle of the court, where he was seated beside Césarine.

“Look at that gentleman!”the prisoner said, waving one hand, and pouncing upon the prosecutor.

Charles turned and looked at the person indicated. His face grew still whiter.It was—to all outer appearance—the Reverend Richard Brabazon in propria persona.

Of course I saw the trick. This was the real parson upon whose outer man Colonel Clay had modelled his little curate.But the jury was shaken.And so was Charles for a moment.

“Let the jurors see the photograph,”the judge said, authoritatively. It was passed round the jury-box, and the judge also examined it.We could see at once, by their faces and attitudes, they all recognised it as the portrait of the clergyman before them—not of the prisoner in the dock, who stood there smiling blandly at Charles's discomfture.

The clergyman sat down. At the same moment the prisoner produced a second photograph.

“Now, can you tell me who that is?”he asked Charles, in the regular brow-beating Old Bailey voice.

With somewhat more hesitation, Charles answered, after a pause:“That is yourself as you appeared in London when you came in the disguise of the Graf von Lebenstein.”

This was a crucial point, for the Lebenstein fraud was the one count on which our lawyers relied to prove their case most fully, within the jurisdiction.

Even while Charles spoke, a gentleman whom I had noticed before, sitting beside White Heather, with a handkerchief to his face, rose as abruptly as the parson. Colonel Clay indicated him with a graceful movement of his hand.“And this gentleman?”he asked calmly.

Charles was fairly staggered. It was the obvious original of the false Von Lebenstein.

The photograph went round the box once more. The jury smiledincredulously.Charles had given himself away.His overweening confdence and certainty had ruined him.

Then Colonel Clay, leaning forward, and looking quite engaging, began a new line of cross-examination.“We have seen, Sir Charles,”he said,“that we cannot implicitly trust your identifications. Now let us see how far we can trust your other evidence.First, then, about those diamonds.You tried to buy them, did you not, from a person who represented himself as the Reverend Richard Brabazon, because you believed he thought they were paste;and if you could, you would have given him 10 pounds or so for them.Do you think that was honest?”

“I object to this line of cross-examination,”our leading counsel interposed.“It does not bear on the prosecutor's evidence. It is purely recriminatory.”

Colonel Clay was all bland deference.“I wish, my lord,”he said, turning round,“to show that the prosecutor is a person unworthy of credence in any way. I desire to proceed upon the well-known legal maxim of falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus.I believe I am permitted to shake the witness's credit?”

“The prisoner is entirely within his rights,”Rhadamanth answered, looking severely at Charles.“And I was wrong in suggesting that he needed the advice or assistance of counsel.”

Charles wriggled visibly. Colonel Clay perked up.Bit by bit, with dexterous questions, Charles was made to acknowledge that he wanted to buy diamonds at the price of paste, knowing them to be real;and, a millionaire himself, would gladly have diddled a poor curate out of a couple of thousand.

“I was entitled to take advantage of my special knowledge,”Charles murmured feebly.

“Oh, certainly,”the prisoner answered.“But, while professing friendship and affection for a clergyman and his wife, in straitened circumstances, you were prepared, it seems, to take three thousand pounds'worth of goods off their hands for ten pounds, if you could have got them at that price. Is not that so?”

Charles was compelled to admit it.

The prisoner went onto the David Granton incident.“When you offered to amalgamate with Lord Craig-Ellachie,”he asked,“had you or had you not heard that a gold-bearing reef ran straight from your concession into Lord Craig-Ellachie's, and that his portion of the reef was by far the larger and more important?”

Charles wriggled again, and our counsel interposed;but Rhadamanth was adamant. Charles had to allow it.

And so, too, with the incident of the Slump in Golcondas. Unwillingly, shamefacedly, by torturing steps, Charles was compelled to confess that he had sold out Golcondas—he, the Chairman of the company, after repeated declarations to shareholders and others that he would do no such thing—because he thought Professor Schleiermacher had made diamonds worthless.He had endeavoured to save himself by ruining his company.Charles tried to brazen it out with remarks to the effect that business was business.“And fraud is fraud,”Rhadamanth added, in his pungent way.

“A man must protect himself,”Charles burst out.

“At the expense of those who have put their trust in his honour and integrity,”the judge commented coldly.

After four mortal hours of it, all to the same effect, my respected brother-in-law left the witness-box at last, wiping his brow and biting his lip, with the very air of a culprit. His character had received a most seriousblow.While he stood in the witness-box all the world had felt it was he who was the accused and Colonel Clay who was the prosecutor.He was convicted on his own evidence of having tried to induce the supposed David Granton to sell his father's interests into an enemy's hands, and of every other shady trick into which his well-known business acuteness had unfortunately hurried him during the course of his adventures.I had but one consolation in my brother-in-law's misfortunes—and that was the thought that a due sense of his own shortcomings might possibly make him more lenient in the end to the trivial misdemeanours of a poor beggar of a secretary!

I was the next in the box. I do not desire to enlarge upon my own achievements.I will draw a decent veil, indeed, over the painful scene that ensued when I fnished my evidence.I can only say I was more cautious than Charles in my recognition of the photographs;but I found myself particularly worried and harried over other parts of my cross-examination.Especially was I shaken about that misguided step I took in the matter of the cheque for the Lebenstein commission—a cheque which Colonel Clay handed to me with the utmost politeness, requesting to know whether or not it bore my signature.I caught Charles's eye at the end of the episode, and I venture to say the expression it wore was one of relief that I too had tripped over a trifing question of ten per cent on the purchase money of the castle.

Altogether, I must admit, if it had not been for the police evidence, we would have failed to make a case against our man at all. But the police, I confess, had got up their part of the prosecution admirably.Now that they knew Colonel Clay to be really Paul Finglemore, they showed with great cleverness how Paul Finglemore's disappearances and reappearances in London exactly tallied with Colonel Clay's appearancesand disappearances elsewhere, under the guise of the little curate, the Seer, David Granton, and the rest of them.Furthermore, they showed experimentally how the prisoner at the bar might have got himself up in the various characters;and, by means of a wax bust, modelled by Dr.Beddersley from observations at Bow Street, and aided by additions in the gutta-percha composition after Dolly Lingfield's photographs, they succeeded in proving that the face as it stood could be readily transformed into the faces of Medhurst and David Granton.Altogether, their cleverness and trained acumen made up on the whole for Charles's over-certainty, and they succeeded in putting before the jury a strong case of their own against Paul Finglemore.

The trial occupied three days. After the first of the three, my respected brother-in-law preferred, as he said, not to prejudice the case against the prisoner by appearing in court again.He did not even allude to the little matter of the ten per cent commission further than to say at dinner that evening that all men were bound to protect their own interests—as secretaries or as principals.This I took for forgiveness;and I continued diligently to attend the trial, and watch the case in my employer's interest.

The defence was ingenious, even if somewhat halting. It consisted simply of an attempt to prove throughout that Charles and I had made our prisoner the victim of a mistaken identity.Finglemore put into the box the ingenuous original of the little curate—the Reverend Septimus Porkington, as it turned out, a friend of his family;and he showed that it was the Reverend Septimus himself who had sat to a photographer in Baker Street for the portrait which Charles too hastily identified as that of Colonel Clay in his personifcation of Mr.Richard Brabazon.He further elicited the fact that the portrait of the Count von Lebenstein wasreally taken from Dr.Julius Keppel, a Tyrolese music-master, residing at Balham, whom he put into the box, and who was well known, as it chanced, to the foreman of the jury.Gradually he made it clear to us that no portraits existed of Colonel Clay at all, except Dolly Lingfield's—so it dawned upon me by degrees that even Dr.Beddersley could only have been misled if we had succeeded in finding for him the alleged photographs of Colonel Clay as the count and the curate, which had been shown us by Medhurst.Altogether, the prisoner based his defence upon the fact that no more than two witnesses directly identified him;while one of those two had positively sworn that he recognised as the prisoner's two portraits which turned out, by independent evidence, to be taken from other people!

The judge summed up in a caustic way which was pleasant to neither party. He asked the jury to dismiss from their minds entirely the impression created by what he frankly described as“Sir Charles Vandrift's obvious dishonesty.”They must not allow the fact that he was a millionaire—and a particularly shady one—to prejudice their feelings in favour of the prisoner.Even the richest—and vilest—of men must be protected.Besides, this was a public question.If a rogue cheated a rogue, he must still be punished.If a murderer stabbed or shot a murderer, he must still be hung for it.Society must see that the worst of thieves were not preyed upon by others.Therefore, the proved facts that Sir Charles Vandrift, with all his millions, had meanly tried to cheat the prisoner, or some other poor person, out of valuable diamonds—had basely tried to juggle Lord Craig-Ellachie's mines into his own hands—had vilely tried to bribe a son to betray his father—had directly tried, by underhand means, to save his own money, at the risk of destroying the wealth of others who trusted to his probity—these proved facts must not blind themto the truth that the prisoner at the bar(if he were really Colonel Clay)was an abandoned swindler.To that point alone they must confne their attention;and if they were convinced that the prisoner was shown to be the self-same man who appeared on various occasions as David Granton, as Von Lebenstein, as Medhurst, as Schleiermacher, they must fnd him guilty.

As to that point, also, the judge commented on the obvious strength of the police case, and the fact that the prisoner had not attempted in any one out of so many instances to prove an alibi. Surely, if he were not Colonel Clay, the jury should ask themselves, must it not have been simple and easy for him to do so?Finally, the judge summed up all the elements of doubt in the identifcation—and all the elements of probability;and left it to the jury to draw their own conclusions.

They retired at the end to consider their verdict. While they were absent every eye in court was fxed on the prisoner.But Paul Finglemore himself looked steadily towards the further end of the hall, where two pale-faced women sat together, with handkerchiefs in their hands, and eyes red with weeping.

Only then, as he stood there, awaiting the verdict, with a fxed white face, prepared for everything, did I begin to realise with what courage and pluck that one lone man had sustained so long an unequal contest against wealth, authority, and all the Governments of Europe, aided but by his own skill and two feeble women!Only then did I feel he had played his reckless game through all those years with this ever before him!I found it hard to picture.

The jury filed slowly back. There was dead silence in court as the clerk put the question,“Do you fnd the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”

“We fnd him guilty.”

“On all the counts?”

“On all the counts of the indictment.”

The women at the back burst into tears, unanimously.

Mr. Justice Rhadamanth addressed the prisoner.“Have you anything to urge,”he asked in a very stern tone,“in mitigation of whatever sentence the Court may see ft to pass upon you?”

“Nothing,”the prisoner answered, just faltering slightly.“I have brought it upon myself—but—I have protected the lives of those nearest and dearest to me. I have fought hard for my own hand.I admit my crime, and will face my punishment.I only regret that, since we were both of us rogues—myself and the prosecutor—the lesser rogue should have stood here in the dock, and the greater in the witness-box.Our country takes care to decorate each according to his deserts—to him, the Grand Cross of St.Michael and St.George;to me, the Broad Arrow!”

The judge gazed at him severely.“Paul Finglemore,”he said, passing sentence in his sardonic way,“you have chosen to dedicate to the service of fraud abilities and attainments which, if turned from the outset into a legitimate channel, would no doubt have suffced to secure you without excessive effort a subsistence one degree above starvation—possibly even, with good luck, a sordid and squalid competence. You have preferred to embark them on a lawless life of vice and crime—and I will not deny that you seem to have had a good run for your money.Society, however, whose mouthpiece I am, cannot allow you any longer to mock it with impunity.You have broken its laws openly, and you have been found out.”He assumed the tone of bland condescension which always heralds his severest moments.“I sentence you to Fourteen Years'Imprisonment, with Hard Labour.”

The prisoner bowed, without losing his apparent composure. But his eyes strayed away again to the far end of the hall, where the two weeping women, with a sudden sharp cry, fell at once in a faint on one another's shoulders, and were with diffculty removed from court by the ushers.

As we left the room, I heard but one comment all round, thus voiced by a school-boy:“I'd a jolly sight rather it had been old Vandrift. This Clay chap's too clever by half to waste on a prison!”

But he went there, none the less—in that“cool sequestered vale of life”to recover equilibrium;though I myself half regretted it.

I will add but one more little parting episode.

When all was over, Charles rushed off to Cannes, to get away from the impertinent stare of London. Amelia and Isabel and I went with him.We were driving one afternoon on the hills beyond the town, among the myrtle and lentisk scrub, when we noticed in front of us a nice victoria, containing two ladies in very deep mourning.We followed it, unintentionally, as far as Le Grand Pin—that big pine tree that looks across the bay towards Antibes.There, the ladies descended and sat down on a knoll, gazing out disconsolately towards the sea and the islands.It was evident they were suffering very deep grief.Their faces were pale and their eyes bloodshot.“Poor things!”Amelia said.Then her tone altered suddenly.

“Why, good gracious,”she cried,“if it isn't Césarine!”

So it was—with White Heather!

Charles got down and drew near them.“I beg your pardon,”he said, raising his hat, and addressing Madame Picardet:“I believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you. And since I have doubtless paid in the end for your victoria, may I venture to inquire for whom you are in mourning?”

White Heather drew back, sobbing;but Césarine turned to him, feryred, with the mien of a lady.“For him!”she answered;“for Paul!for our king, whom you have imprisoned!As long as he remains there, we have both of us decided to wear mourning for ever!”

Charles raised his hat again, and drew back without one word. He waved his hand to Amelia and walked home with me to Cannes.He seemed deeply dejected.

“A penny for your thoughts!”I exclaimed, at last, in a jocular tone, trying feebly to rouse him.

He turned to me, and sighed.“I was wondering,”he answered,“if I had gone to prison, would Amelia and Isabel have done as much for me?”

For myself, I did not wonder. I knew pretty well.For Charles, you will admit, though the bigger rogue of the two, is scarcely the kind of rogue to inspire a woman with profound affection.

我们抵达弓街时,长舒了一口气,因为囚犯没有半路跑掉。虚惊一场。他同警察待在一起,欣然允许我们正式提出对他的第一项指控。

我和查尔斯都宣过誓,犯人当然就被立刻送到大牢之中,不许保释:一方面是因为被指控的罪名比较严重,另一方面是因为犯人有过溜逃的前科。我们回到梅费尔——看到令自己一直担惊受怕的那个人被关到了牢狱中,查尔斯十分满意;就我而言,一想到令自己一直担惊受怕的那个人不再逍遥法外,而百分之十的佣金那个微不足道的小插曲即将公开,我一点也高兴不起来。

第二天,来了很多警察,同我和查尔斯长谈了一番。他们不断地催促我们,说至少还有其他两个人也应该受到指控——西塞琳,还有在不同场合被冠以皮卡迪特夫人、白石南花、大卫·格兰顿夫人、伊莱休·夸肯鲍斯夫人等称呼的那个小妇人。他们还说,要是这两个同党也被逮捕的话,我们就可以在起诉书中再增加共谋这一罪状,会让我们多一份胜算。目前,他们抓到了克雷上校,实际上自然想关着他,并且打算一同指控他尽可能多的同党。

不过,这么一来,问题就出现了。查尔斯阴沉着脸,把我叫到一边,去了书房。“西摩,”他开口道,两眼直直地盯着我,“这个问题比较严重。我不愿轻易地指控任何一位女性。至于克雷上校——或者说保罗·芬戈摩尔——他是个寡廉鲜耻的无赖,我不想对他有任何的袒护。不过,可怜的小皮卡迪特夫人——她或许是他法定的妻子,或许暗中受了他的指使。还有,我不清楚能不能认出她来。这是警方拿来的照片,说是克雷上校的头号女共犯。现在,我问问你,她像不像那位聪明、有趣、魅力四射,还经常骗咱们的小女士?”

虽然查尔斯以前对我冷嘲热讽,但我自以为深谙作为一名秘书的职责。他的意思很明显:不想让我认出她。于是,我也就没认出来。“查尔斯,根本不像,”我回答得很坚决,“我压根儿就不认识她。”不过,我没说压根儿不认识保罗·芬戈摩尔——或者说西塞琳的男友——所冒充的克雷上校,因为说这种话显然是秘书职责之外的事。

不过,当时我的脑海里突然想到,先知在尼斯时不经意间提到过,查尔斯的口袋中有封信,很有可能就是皮卡迪特夫人写的。再想想,那么皮卡迪特夫人很有可能手里也有查尔斯的回信,信的内容和措辞查尔斯不愿让艾米莉亚看到。实际上,说句实话,不论“白石南花”以何种伪装出现,查尔斯总会第一眼就拜倒在她的石榴裙下。因此,我觉得,那位精明的小妇人——你想怎么称呼她都行——很可能手里攥着不止一封查尔斯写给她的秘密信件。

“这样一来,”查尔斯用最严厉的口吻继续道,“我无法同意去逮捕‘白石南花’。我……我拒绝指认她。实际上,”他越说语气越重,“我觉得没有任何对她不利的证据。”他稍稍一顿,又继续道:“我并不想包庇犯人。现在说说西塞琳——我们喜欢她,也信任她,可是她辜负了我们的信任,把我们出卖给了这个家伙。毫无疑问,是她从艾米莉亚的首饰盒中把钻石偷走给了他;是她安排我们在莱本斯坦城堡同他碰的面;是她拆了我给克雷盖拉奇勋爵的信,然后又寄给了他。所以,要我说,咱们得把西塞琳抓起来。不能抓‘白石南花’——不抓杰西,不抓那位漂亮的夸肯鲍斯夫人。要让犯了罪的人接受惩罚,对于那无辜的人——或者最坏的情况是,受人误导的人——我们为什么要加以惩罚呢?”

“查尔斯,”我兴奋地大声说道,“我们为你的体贴周到感到骄傲。你是个有情有义的人,要我说,‘白石南花’这么漂亮这么聪明,无论做了什么,都应该原谅她。放心,我绝口不提。我发誓,我不会指认这个妇人就是皮卡迪特夫人的。”

查尔斯默默地抓住我的手。“西摩,”他顿了一顿,感动地说,“我想我绝对可以相信你的……你的……正直与人品。我以前有时对你苛刻了一些,不过,请你原谅。我明白,你已完全知晓自己岗位的全部职责。”

我们再次走出书房,两人的关系几个月以来从未如此亲密。实际上,我希望万一芬戈摩尔把百分之十的佣金那件事告诉查尔斯,今天这段愉快的小插曲能缓和一下那件事的不利影响。我们正一起走进客厅,这时艾米莉亚向我招手,让我到她房间待一会儿。

“西摩,”她对我说,语气中明显充满了惊恐,“有时,我对你不太客气,我也知道,非常抱歉。不过,现在我碰到了一点极为头疼的事,想让你帮我一下。警方指控的阴谋罪,这一点都不错。那个诡计多端的小狐狸精,‘白石南花’,或叫大卫·格兰顿夫人,或者其他什么名字,她绝对要受审——还要关到大牢里面去——再把她那荒唐的头发剪短梳直。不过……亲爱的西摩,我相信,在这一点上,你肯定会帮我的——我不能让他们把西塞琳带走。我不是装作不知她没有过错,她对我忘恩负义,到处骗我,毫无悔意。不过,话又说回来——你也结了婚,我给你说——让一个女人站到证人席,让自己的女仆被诘问、奚落,或者让女仆把知道的事告诉律师,让律师不留情面地盘问,谁能受得了?西摩,我告诉你,这事门儿都没有。女士的日常生活中有一些琐事——只有她的女仆知道——绝不可以公之于众。你尽可能地向查尔斯解释一下,让他明白,要是他非要坚持逮捕西塞琳,我就得站到证人席上——我发誓,到时候,他们这一帮人谁都判不了。我就是这么跟西塞琳说的,向她保证要帮她一把。我跟她说,我是她朋友,要是她帮我,我就帮她,也帮她那位让人恨之入骨的男友。”

我一下子明白这是怎么一回事了。查尔斯和艾米莉亚二人谁都无法面对克雷上校的共犯的诘问。就艾米莉亚而言,原因毫无疑问仅仅在于胭脂、染发之类的事情;不过,这又不是伪造文书,也不是杀人害命,只不过是梳洗化妆上的小秘密,有什么不能坦白的呢?

于是我又找到查尔斯,花了半个小时,尽我所能地向他解释了这些家庭内部小问题。我们最终商定,如果查尔斯尽力保护西塞琳免于逮捕,那艾米莉亚则同意尽其所能来保护皮卡迪特夫人作为报答。

接下来,我们还得过警方这一关——这一关更为棘手。即便他们通情达理,这也并非易事。他们觉得自己抓住了克雷上校,不过能否对他加以指控,这完全取决于查尔斯的指认,还有我的进一步确认。他们越是催促,说有必要逮捕他的那些女性同党,查尔斯就越坚决地宣布,自己不敢确定克雷上校的身份,同时完全拒绝出示任何对那两位女性不利的证据。他说,这个案件比较棘手,他一点儿都不敢确定那名男子的身份。要是他犹豫不决,不愿意指认,那么这个案子就得终止,陪审团也就无法判定克雷上校任何罪名了。

最终警方别无选择,只得让步。他们抓捕了一个重要罪犯,不过发现,一切都取决于目击证人的安全,而要是目击证人受到干扰的话,他则有可能什么都不说。

实际上,在法庭的初步调查还未结束前(犯人按惯例还在关押候审),查尔斯就早已陷入了焦虑,多么希望自己当初没有抓住克雷上校。

“西,我在想,”他对我说,“当时我为什么没有一年给这无赖两千英镑,让他直接滚到澳大利亚,让他永远消失!就我的个人声誉而言,这要比把他押在英国法庭受审划算得多。最糟的是,即便最无可挑剔的人,一旦站到了证人席上,指不定到头来会被说成什么样!”

“查尔斯,对你来说,不必有此顾虑,”我责无旁贷地答道,“也许,只是并购克雷盖拉奇那件事算个例外。”

接着,我们便同警方还有律师一起无休止地“策划这场诉讼”。查尔斯本想在此时全身而退,不过,非常不幸的是,他不得不出庭指证。“你们能不能把事情一次处理完,然后放我走?”查尔斯跟巡官开玩笑道。不过,我心里明白,这正是俗话所说的“嬉笑多真言”。

当然,现在我们明白了这场大阴谋是如何一步步设计的,设计得就像蒂奇伯恩骗局一样缜密。年轻的芬戈摩尔,也就是查尔斯的经纪人的弟弟,他从一开始就知道查尔斯的底细。一开始小打小闹干了一些坏事以后,他便开始针对我内兄精心制订了周密的计划,所有的一切都是他事先故意设计好的。先给西塞琳找了个差事,去当艾米莉亚的女仆——不用说,用的都是些假证明。有了西塞琳的帮助,那骗子对这个家庭的日常习惯更是一清二楚。他掌握了一些信息,后来又以此来骗我们。他针对我们的第一次行动,也就是扮演先知的那次,设计得十分巧妙,让我们觉得自己只是偶然被他选作目标。现在查尔斯才注意到,皮卡迪特夫人在马赛信贷银行询问他银行账号这一细节,是为了故意蒙蔽我们,不让我们一眼看出克雷上校早已完全掌握了我们的这些信息。同样,还是西塞琳帮的忙,他拿到了艾米莉亚的钻石,截获了发给克雷盖拉奇的信函,还在莱本斯坦城堡那件事上骗了我们。不过,这些事,查尔斯决定在法庭上避而不谈,凡是对西塞琳或皮卡迪特夫人不利的事,他对警方都只字不提。

至于西塞琳,在克雷上校被捕以后,她也立即出走了,直到庭审那天我们才见到她。

庭审当天,老贝利街的场面从未如此让人震撼过,法庭被围得水泄不通。查尔斯在律师的陪同下,早早地到场了。他面色苍白,愁眉不展,看起来更像是被告,而非原告。法庭外面站着一位漂亮的小妇人,面色苍白,一脸焦急。周围的人在一旁静静地望着她。“她是谁?”查尔斯问。我们俩虽然看不出,却都能猜得到,她就是“白石南花”。

“她是被告的妻子,”当班的巡官答道,“她要在这儿看丈夫出庭。可怜的人儿,真替她惋惜,这么一位无可挑剔的妇人。”

“看起来确实是这样。”查尔斯说道,不敢正眼看她。

就在此时,她转过身,看着查尔斯的双眼。查尔斯怔了一下,看起来身子有些摇摆。在那双眼睛中,只能隐隐地看到一丝乞求,完全看不到以往轻佻、傲慢、活泼的影子。查尔斯张开嘴要说话,但一个字都未能出口。我想我不会猜错,从口型来看,他准备说:“我会尽力帮他的。”

我们在警方的帮助下挤进法庭。在法庭里,我们看到有位全身素黑的女士坐着,戴了顶挺般配的软帽。过了一会儿,我才意识到——那就是西塞琳。“那个人……又是谁?”查尔斯又问了问离他最近的巡官,想听听他怎么说。

这一次的回答是:“先生,她是被告的妻子。”

查尔斯向后一退,大吃一惊,一脸不解,突然冒了句:“可是……有人给我说……门外有位女士是他的妻子。”

“那也很有可能,”巡官不动声色地答道,“我们碰到过很多这样的。像克雷上校这样的绅士,有众多的化身,你很难想象这么多的身份却执意只娶一位妻子,是不是?”

“哦,明白了,”查尔斯喃喃地说道,语气中流露着震惊,“重婚!”

巡官看起来面无表情。“也不是,”他答道,“只是临时婚姻。”

拉德曼斯法官审理这个案子。“西,真倒霉,是他来审理。”我内兄在我耳边小声道。(查尔斯之所以这么说,是因为不管他在其他方面如何,但他绝不迂腐;大多数受过教育的人说出的英语,都完全能够表达出自己的意思。)“多么希望是爱德华·伊斯爵士,他见过世面,也懂世故,会体谅像我这种身份地位的人。他决不会让这些禽兽般的律师来纠缠我,攻击我。他会支持与自己同一阶层的人。可这位拉德曼斯是你们的现代法官,以所谓的‘讲良心’而自夸,有什么说什么,一点都不遮掩。说实话,我有点怕他,巴不得这一切早点儿结束。”

“哦,没事,你会挺过去的。”我这么说,完全是出于秘书的职责。实际上我却不这么认为。

法官入了席,犯人被带了进来。好像所有人都在注视着他:他衣着整洁朴素,说实话,虽然他是个无赖,但看起来至少像位绅士。他的一举一动都趾高气扬,不像查尔斯那么低三下四。他知道自己已经无处可逃,于是便勇敢地直面指控者。

我们列了两三条罪状,在走了一些法律程序之后,查尔斯·凡德里夫特爵士就被带入证人席,去指控芬戈摩尔。

那犯人没有律师。法庭找了位律师来帮他,不过被他拒绝了。法官甚至建议他接受法庭的帮助,不过克雷上校(我们在心里还是这么叫他)拒绝采纳法官的提议。

“法官大人,我本人就是一名律师,”他说道,“这是大约九年前的事了。恕我冒昧,我自己为自己辩护,会比其他博学的同行为我辩护更有力。”

查尔斯很轻松地就结束了本方证人的讯问。他对答如流,迫不及待地指出,庭上的犯人就是曾经先后乔装成理查德·佩普洛·布拉巴宗牧师、大卫·格兰顿阁下、凡·莱本斯坦伯爵、施莱尔马赫教授、夸肯鲍斯医生等人来骗他的那个人。他对此人的身份有十足的把握,无论在哪儿都绝对能把他认出来。在我看来,他有些过于自信了。要是指认时能略显迟疑,或许会更好。至于那各种各样的骗局,他一五一十一个不落地全说了,银行官员还有其他下级人员都为之做证。总之,他让芬戈摩尔毫无立足之地。

不过,在交互讯问这个环节,局势开始出现了大转折。犯人开始质疑查尔斯的指认,问查尔斯敢认定他就是这个人吗?他递给查尔斯一张照片,劝诱地问道:“是不是这个人乔装成了理查德·佩普洛·布拉巴宗牧师?”

查尔斯立刻承认,毫不迟疑。

就在此时,一个小牧师站了起来,我之前没有注意到这个人,他站在法庭近中间的位置,毫不起眼,就坐在西塞琳的身旁。

“看看这位先生!”犯人边说边挥手想引起公诉人的注意。

查尔斯转过身,看了看他提到的那个人。他脸色更苍白了。那个人——就外表来看——就是理查德·佩普洛·布拉巴宗牧师本人。

我当然明白其中的把戏。克雷上校所乔装的那小牧师模仿的就是这位真正的牧师。不过,陪审团为之一震,查尔斯也惊呆了好一会儿。

“让陪审员也看看照片。”法官威严地说道。照片在陪审席前传看,法官本人也仔细地看了一看。从他们的面部表情和态度上,我们立刻明白了,他们都认出照片中的人正是面前这位牧师,而非被告席中的犯人——此刻,他正看着查尔斯那狼狈的样子,泰然自若地微笑着。

牧师坐下了。此时,犯人又拿出第二张照片。

“好,现在能不能告诉我这是谁?”他以中央刑事法庭那一贯咄咄逼人的语气问查尔斯。

查尔斯这次略微迟疑得久些,他顿了一顿,答道:“这就是你。当时你来到伦敦,乔装成凡·莱本斯坦伯爵。”

这一点极其关键,因为莱本斯坦诈骗案这个案子,是我们的律师最能充分证明案件在伦敦法院受理范围的依据。

就在查尔斯说话的当儿,一位坐在“白石南花”身旁的先生——我刚才注意到了——用手帕遮着脸,跟小牧师一样,突然站了起来。克雷上校用手优雅地向他一指,冷静地问道:“那这位先生呢?”

查尔斯明显要站不住了。这显然就是冒牌的凡·莱本斯坦伯爵的原型。

那张照片再一次在陪审席间传阅。陪审员的脸上挂着笑容,也挂着质疑。查尔斯已经放弃了。他那过分的自信与肯定已经毁了自己。

接着,克雷上校身子前倾,十分引人注目,又开始交互讯问,说道:“查尔斯爵士,在座的诸位都已经看到了,我们不能盲目地相信你的指认。现在,咱们来看看,你其他的证据到底有多可信。首先,先说说钻石那件事。你企图从一位自称为理查德·布拉巴宗牧师的人手里把它买到手,原因是,你相信那牧师觉得那只是铅玻璃;要是你买,你大概会给他十英镑左右,对不对?你觉得这有诚信吗?”

“我反对这个讯问,”我们的首席律师打断他,“这和原告的证据没有任何关系,这纯粹是揭丑。”

克雷上校全然不顾。“法官大人,”他转而看看四周,说道,“我这么做,是想证明原告不足为信。我想遵循的是法律上广为人知的‘一事假,事事假’这一原则。我想,大人应该允许我动摇对目击证人的信任吧?”

“犯人完全有权这么做,”拉德曼斯一边说着,一边板着脸盯着查尔斯,“刚才我还建议他接受律师的建议或援助,看来我是错了。”

看得出,查尔斯在扭动着身体,克雷上校则振作了起来。他那些巧妙的提问,一步步逼得查尔斯承认,自己虽然知道那些钻石是真品,可仍想以铅玻璃的价格把它们买到手;承认自己作为一位百万富翁,却满心欢喜地算计着从一名穷副牧师手中骗走几千英镑。

“我有权用自己的专业知识为自己牟利。”查尔斯弱弱地咕哝了一句。

“哈,当然,”犯人接过话,“不过,你一方面对生活拮据的副牧师夫妇大谈友谊,大谈爱心;而另一方面,却貌似打算花十英镑——要是可以的话——从他们手中买走价值三千英镑的物品,难道不是吗?”

查尔斯被迫承认这一事实。

犯人接着又说到了大卫·格兰顿那件事。“当你主动要同克雷盖拉奇勋爵合作时,”他问道,“有一条金矿矿脉从你的土地延伸到了克雷盖拉奇勋爵的土地上,你知道还是不知道?他土地里的矿脉比你的面积要大,并且重要得多,你知道还是不知道?”

查尔斯又扭动着身体,我们的律师打断他,不过拉德曼斯法官非常固执,查尔斯只得任其讲下去。

同样,他还提到了戈尔康达股价暴跌事件。查尔斯被一步步逼着羞愧地承认,他作为戈尔康达的董事长,虽然多次向股东及其他相关人士强调,自己不会出售公司的股票,可最后还是把公司股票全部卖出了,原因是他相信施莱尔马赫教授已经使钻石变得一文不值了。他企图通过毁掉公司来拯救自己。查尔斯努力厚着脸皮,想表明生意归生意,是另一码事。“可欺诈就是欺诈。”拉德曼斯接着他的话,一针见血地说道。

“人人都要自保啊。”查尔斯突然迸出这句话。

“那些信任此君的名誉和人品的人却做了牺牲品。”法官冷冷地评论道。

如此这般,我内兄熬了四个小时,最后离开证人席,咬着嘴唇,抹着额头,俨然一副罪人模样。他的人格大为受损。他站在证人席上时,所有人都觉得他是被告,而克雷上校则是原告。别人用他自己提供的证据,指控他想方设法去诱使所谓的大卫·格兰顿将他父亲的财产利益出卖给竞争对手,还指控了其他每项见不得人的勾当;很不幸,这一切都是他那出众、精明的商业头脑在投机活动中惹的祸。我内兄遭受了这些不幸,只有一点让我欣慰——我想他意识到了自己的种种缺点,也许当他发现自己可怜的秘书犯了点小错时,最终会网开一面。

接下来,轮到我站到证人席中。我无意对自己的功劳夸大其词。实际上,考虑到自己的面子,证据陈述之后的那痛苦场面我就不谈了。我所能说的是,在指认相片时,我比查尔斯要谨慎得多,不过自己尤其担心交互问讯的其他环节。特别是在购买莱本斯坦城堡的佣金支票那件事上,我走错的那一步,让我心惊胆战——克雷上校毕恭毕敬地把支票递给我,问我有没有在上面签名。在对我问讯结束时,我看到了查尔斯的眼神。我敢说,他那眼神中有种解脱,好像在说,我最终也没能保全自己,在城堡购买款项百分之十的佣金这件微不足道的小事上栽了跟头。

总之,不得不承认,要是没有警方的佐证,我们对克雷上校的指控根本不成立。不过,警方的诉讼让人拍手称快。既然他们知道了克雷上校的真实身份就是保罗·芬戈摩尔,于是便巧妙地展示了保罗·芬戈摩尔——不管他乔装成小副牧师、先知、大卫·格兰顿,还是其他身份——在伦敦的出现与消失,与克雷上校在其他地方的消失与出现,是如何完全吻合的。此外,他们还试着演示了那犯人是如何乔装成其他不同角色的。不仅如此,贝德斯莱博士根据在弓街的观察,塑了一个半身像,又按照多莉·林格菲尔德的照片增添了一些杜仲胶混合物,警方利用这种方法,证明了那张脸庞能迅速地整形成梅德赫斯特还有大卫·格兰顿的面孔。总的来说,警方的聪明劲儿,还有那训练有素的敏锐劲儿,挽回了查尔斯的过分肯定带来的后果,他们成功地在陪审团面前摆了一份强有力的证据来指控保罗·芬戈摩尔。

庭审持续了三天。第一天过后,我那位令人敬重的内兄就说,自己再也不想出庭指控犯人了。当天晚上吃饭时,百分之十的佣金那件小事他提都没提,只是说所有人——不管是秘书,还是董事长——都肯定会维护自身的利益。我就当他原谅我了。我仍然继续参加庭审,代表自己的雇主关注案件的进展。

克雷上校的辩护,虽说略显乏力,但很机智。他自始至终无非是想证明我和查尔斯认错了人,因而让他蒙冤。芬戈摩尔让小副牧师那位朴实的原型人物——赛普蒂默斯·伯金顿牧师,他家族的一位朋友——出庭做证,说是贝克街的一位摄影师为赛普蒂默斯牧师本人照的相,但查尔斯却一口认定,这张照片就是克雷上校乔装的理查德·布拉巴宗先生的照片。接着,他又说道,凡·莱本斯坦伯爵照片中的那个人的确是尤里斯·凯博尔博士,他是蒂罗尔的音乐教师,住在巴勒姆,并请他出庭做证,碰巧陪审团主席同此人很熟。他一步步让我们明白,除了多莉·林格菲尔德手里的照片是真的,这世上根本没有什么关于克雷上校的照片。我渐渐才明白,要是我们找到了据称是克雷上校乔装成伯爵还有小副牧师的照片——就是梅德赫斯特给我们看过的那几张——并且认为那就是他本人,那么贝德斯莱也肯定会受到误导。总之,犯人申辩说,只有两位目击者直接认出了他,并且其中有一位满口发誓,说认出了犯人的两张照片,但他却有独立证据证明那些照片上的人另有他人!

法官做了总结,言辞刻薄,双方听着都不怎么顺耳。他说,虽说自己毫不掩饰地指出“查尔斯·凡德里夫特爵士显然不诚实”,但让陪审团完全不要受这种印象的影响;还说虽然查尔斯是位百万富翁——名声极其不好——但千万别因此事而心存偏见,转而同情犯人。哪怕是最有钱的人——最坏的人——都必须受到法律的保护。此外,这还是个公共问题。如果一个无赖骗了另一个无赖,他也仍要受到惩罚。如果一个杀人犯刺杀或枪杀了另一个杀人犯,他也仍要被处以绞刑。社会一定要确保,即使万恶不赦的盗贼也不能受到别人的侵害。因此,虽然已经证实查尔斯·凡德里夫特爵士身价几百万英镑,却使用下流的手段,试图从被告或者说其他某位穷人手中骗走价值不菲的钻石,卑鄙地企图把克雷盖拉奇勋爵的矿产骗到自己手中,心怀歹意地贿赂儿子去出卖自己的父亲,毫不避讳地用了见不得人的手段来挽回自己的财富,而那些相信他正直廉洁的人的财富却面临被洗劫的风险——即使这样,陪审团也千万不要让这些铁定的事实遮住双眼,而忘了被囚禁的这位犯人(如果他真的是克雷上校)是个寡廉鲜耻的骗子。他们应该关注的仅仅是,如果他们确信这位犯人就是在不同场合乔装成大卫·格兰顿、凡·莱本斯坦、梅德赫斯特,还有施莱尔马赫的那个人,那么陪审团就必然要认定他有罪。

法官也同样就此评价了警方的有力证据,还提到,在如此众多的事件中,犯人没有试着去证明自己不在场。当然,陪审团应当想想,要是他不是克雷上校,那么要去证明自己不在场,这难道不是件轻而易举的事吗?最后,法官总结了犯人身份认定中的一切可疑因素——还有所有的可能因素,剩下的交予陪审团进行裁决。

陪审团最后退席讨论如何裁决。在这段时间,法庭中所有人的目光都落在犯人身上。不过,保罗·芬戈摩尔自己却一动不动地望着大厅的尽头,在那儿两位面色苍白的女士坐在一起,手里拿着手帕,双眼哭得通红。

他站在那里,等待着裁决,面无表情,脸色苍白,准备迎接一切可能的结果。这时,我才意识到,他只身一人,仅仅凭借一己之力还有两位柔弱的女人,这得需要多大的勇气才能在这场不平等的较量中,这么长时间对抗着财富、权威,还有欧洲所有的政府!这时我才体会到,这些年来,他都是一直如此不顾一切地玩这场游戏,最后竟是这个结局!我的心中不免感慨万千。

陪审团缓缓鱼贯而回。当书记员问“你们认为被告有罪,还是无罪?”时,法庭里死一般寂静。

“我们认为他有罪。”

“所有罪名都成立吗?”

“指控的所有罪名都成立。”

后排的那两位妇人不约而同地一下子哭出声来。

拉德曼斯法官对着犯人厉声问道:“你还有什么要申辩的吗?说出来或许会让法庭酌情对你从轻量刑。”

“没有,”犯人答道,声音有些颤抖,“我是罪有应得……不过……我保护了自己身边最亲近的人。我已全力抗争过了。我承认自己的罪行,愿意接受惩罚。我只有一点遗憾:我们俩都不是什么好东西——我是说自己和原告——罪行轻的竟然站到了被告席,而罪行重的却站到了证人席。要说赏罚分明,咱们国家可真是煞费苦心——给他的是圣米迦勒及圣乔治大十字勋章,给我的却是囚衣!”

法官严肃地盯着他。“保罗·芬戈摩尔,”他宣读着判决,口吻有些讽刺,“你选择究其一生钻研如何欺诈他人。如果一开始你的心思全都用于合法目的,至少你可以毫不费力地解决生计问题——运气好点的话,甚至还可能过上一种为人所不齿的舒适生活。可是你宁可走上一条恶行和犯罪的不法之路——你长期以来似乎一直逍遥法外,这一点我不否认。不过,我作为社会的代言人,决不能再允许你对它加以嘲弄,却仍逍遥法外。你已公然违反了社会的法律,并且你的劣迹也已败露。”他说这些话时,语气平和谦逊,但接下来,总会是他最为严厉的时刻。“我判你十四年劳役监禁。”

犯人鞠了一躬,不失他的外在风度。可他的目光却游离到了大厅的尽头,在那儿,两位啜泣的妇人突然放声大哭,不省人事地倒在彼此的肩上,传达员费了好大劲儿才将二人扶出庭外。

我们离庭时,周围只听到一个人说话,那是一个上学的孩子:“要是被判刑的是那个老凡德里夫特才让人高兴呢!这个叫克雷的家伙太聪明了,关到监狱里真可惜!”

话虽这么说,可他还是被关到了那里——关到了那个“僻静清幽之地”以劳代过,我对此感到有点惋惜。

故事的结尾,我再讲一个小插曲。

这件事过后,查尔斯匆匆忙忙离开伦敦赶往戛纳,以逃避周围人那指责的目光。艾米莉亚、伊莎贝尔还有我同他一起过去。一日午后,我们驱车在小镇远处的山中赶路,路两旁尽是桃金娘还有低矮的乳香树。这时,我们看到前方有辆漂亮的四轮敞篷马车,上面坐着两位妇人,身着全黑丧服。我们无意间一直跟到了大松树那儿——就是隔着海湾与昂蒂布遥望的那棵大松树。那两位妇人下了车,坐在一座小山上,悲伤地看着大海还有海上的岛屿。很明显,她们正满心悲痛。她们面色苍白,两眼充满血丝。“真可怜!”艾米莉亚说道,但突然间她的语气变了。

“哎,我的天,”她叫道,“那不是西塞琳吗!”

的确是她——还有“白石南花”!

查尔斯下车,向她们走去。“打扰了,”他一面脱帽致意,一面对皮卡迪特夫人说道,“很高兴见到你。既然最后是我把你的马车钱付了,我能否冒昧地问一句,你这是为谁戴的孝?”

“白石南花”一边往后退了退,一边啜泣着。这时,西塞琳转过身来,气得脸蛋通红,一副贵妇派头。“为了他!”她答道,“为了保罗!为了我们的王!就是因为你而被监禁起来的那个人!他一日不释放,我们俩就一日为他戴孝!”

查尔斯又脱帽致意,退了回来,一句话未说。他向艾米莉亚挥了挥手,同我一道步行回家,回戛纳。他看起来好像十分沮丧。

“你在呆呆地想什么?”我后来大声打趣地问道,想试着让他回过神来。

他转向我,叹了口气,说道:“我在想,要是我坐牢了,艾米莉亚和伊莎贝尔是否也会为我这么做?”

就我而言,根本不用考虑,我心里十分清楚。对于查尔斯,我敢说,虽然他是两个无赖中更有权势的那个,却不是能让女性为之死心塌地的那个。

用户搜索

疯狂英语 英语语法 新概念英语 走遍美国 四级听力 英语音标 英语入门 发音 美语 四级 新东方 七年级 赖世雄 zero是什么意思哈尔滨市保利水韵长滩英语学习交流群

  • 频道推荐
  • |
  • 全站推荐
  • 推荐下载
  • 网站推荐