Chapter 8 The Red Moon of Mount Meru

The bazaar at Marlowwood Abbey (with the generous permission of Lady Mounteagle) was agreed to be a huge success; there was a much-loved wooden horse, swings and interspersed little shows to keep everyone entertained It was fun; I would also like to mention charity, which is at the heart of the whole event, but it would be great if someone could tell me what charity I'm doing.We are here concerned, however, with only a few of them; especially the three, a lady and two gentlemen, who were coming through the two largest tents or pavilions, arguing loudly.To their right was the tent of Master Shenshan, the famous fortune-teller who used crystal balls and palm reading; An Asian god, waving countless arms like an eight-legged animal.It may symbolize that the gods will come down to help the people in the tent at any time; it may just imply that an ideal palmistry should have as many hands as possible.On the other side is the phrenologist Flosso's tent, which is much more austere; it is simply decorated with the analysis of the skulls of Socrates and Shakespeare, both of whom have obviously raised skulls. .However, these pictures are only drawn in black and white, and marked with numbers and brief descriptions, which are in line with the rigorous style of pure rational science.The entrance to the purple tent was like a pitch-black cave, and it was appropriately silent inside.But the phrenologist Flosso, described as thin, poorly dressed, dark-skinned, with an unbelievably large black beard, was standing outside his temple, yelling aimlessly at the top of his voice , explaining that the head of every passer-by, upon inspection, would no doubt be as bulging as Shakespeare's.In fact, as soon as the lady appeared between the tents of the two families, the alert Flosso pounced on her, and offered to touch the hump of her head in the old-fashioned salute.

She was going to politely refuse, but she turned out to be rather rude; but you must forgive her, because she is arguing about something.You must forgive her, or at any rate forgive her, also because she is Lady Mounteagle.She was not insignificant in any sense, though; she was demure and wild, with a rather hungry look in her deep-set dark eyes and a certain eagerness in her smile. , Even a little fanatical look.Her dresses seem grotesque now; for they were before the First World War, and now the war is past, leaving only heavy hearts and memories.The dress did resemble the purple tent; it was in some semi-Oriental style, painted with exotic and mysterious designs.But everyone knew that the Mount Eagles were crazy; that's what people usually said when they mentioned how obsessed she and her husband were with Eastern teachings and cultures.

The grotesqueness of the lady was in stark contrast to the tradition of the two gentlemen, who were wrapped up like the ancients, from their bright top hats down to the fingertips of their gloves.Even so, however, there is a difference; for James Hardcastle can make himself look decent and dignified, while Tommy Hunt can only look decent and mediocre.Hardcastle was a promising politician; socially he seemed interested in everything but politics.Perhaps he will pessimistically explain that every politician is destined to have a future.To be fair, though, he often comes across as a showman politician.However, there was no purple tent left for him in the market for him to perform.

"As far as I'm concerned," he said, squinting through his monocle, the only bright spot in his hard, stern face, "I think we'll start by exhausting the possibilities of hypnosis. sex, and then talk about magic. Strange psychic powers undoubtedly exist, even among apparently backward peoples. The dervishes have had marvelous acts." "You mean a liar?" another young man asked, his suspicions tinged with innocence. "Tommy, you're stupid," the woman said. "Why do you mess around with things you don't understand? Like a schoolboy yelling that he knows how tricks are done. That's so early Victorian - schoolboy paranoid .As for hypnotism, I doubt you have exaggerated it to the point that—"

Just then the Lady of Mounteagle seemed to catch a glimpse of someone she was looking for; a stocky figure in black, standing in a pavilion where a group of children was facing a table Ugly ornaments throw ferrules.She rushed over with a stride and shouted: "Father Brown, I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you something: Do you believe in fortune-telling?" The questionee looked helplessly at the ferrule in his hand, and finally said: "I don't know in what sense you mean 'believe'. Of course, if it's all a hoax—" "Oh, but Master Shenshan is no liar," she exclaimed. "He was no ordinary magician or fortune teller. It was a great honor that he would condescend to tell fortunes at an event I hosted; he was a great religious leader in his country; a seer and seer. Even fortune-telling is not a vulgar thing like whether you can get rich. He will tell you the great spiritual truth, about yourself, about your ideals."

"Exactly," said Father Brown. "That's what I objected to. I was just about to say I wouldn't care so much if it was all a hoax. Like most of the fancy stuff peddled in the fairs, it wasn't a hoax; besides, in In a way it was just a hoax. But to call it a religion, to reveal any spiritual truth—it is as evil as hell, and I am afraid to avoid it." "It was a bit of a paradox," Hardcastle said with a smile. "I don't think there's any paradox," the priest mused. "That seems to me as clear as day. I suppose it wouldn't do much harm if a man pretended to be a German spy and gave the Germans all kinds of false information. But if a man betrayed the truth to the Germans —Oh! So I thought, if a fortune-teller sells the truth like that—”

"Do you really think so," began Hardcastle sullenly. "Yes," said the other, "I think he's making a deal with the enemy." Tommy Hunt chuckled. "Well," he said, "if Father Brown thinks they're good people if they're just cheating, I think he'll think of the bronzed prophet as a saint." "My cousin Tom is hopeless," said the lady. "He's always trying to look like a connoisseur, even he says so. He came here in a hurry when he heard the Master was going to be here, I think. Maybe he was trying to challenge Buddha or Moses."

"I think you need someone to take care of you," the young man said, with a big smile on Yuanyuan's face. "So here I am. Don't like this brown monkey wandering around." "There you are again!" said the lady. "Many years ago, back in India, I think we all had that prejudice against brown people. But now that I know some of their amazing spiritual powers, I'm happy to say I'm much more informed." "Our prejudices seem to run in opposite directions," Father Brown said. "You forgive him for being brown; I forgive him for being brown. Honestly, I don't think much of mental strength myself. I'm more sympathetic to mental weakness .but I never understood why anyone would hate him just because he's the same color as copper, or coffee, or sorrel beer, or one of those murky streams in the north. But," he looked at the lady across the way, narrowing his eyes. Eyes, added, "I guess I have a preference for anything brown."

"Look!" exclaimed the lady, triumphantly. "I knew you were talking nonsense!" "Oh," the wronged round-faced young man muttered. "Others clearly said that it is reasonable, but you still say that it is a primary school student who is suspicious. When are you going to see the crystal ball for divination?" "As soon as you like, I suppose," replied the lady. "Actually, it's not crystal ball reading, it's palm reading; I think you'd say it makes no difference, it's all nonsense." "I guess there's a middle ground between being reasonable and being bullshit," Hardcastle said with a smile. "Some explanations are natural and not at all absurd; yet the results are uncanny. Do you think you want to try? I admit I have a itch."

"Oh, I don't have much patience for such nonsense," snapped the skeptic, his round face flushed with disdain and suspicion. "Just waste your time on charlatans; I'd rather go for coconuts." The phrenologist who was still hovering nearby rushed towards the entrance. "Skull, my dear sir," said he, "the contours of a human skull are far more delicate than a coconut. No coconut can compare to my most—" Hardcastle had plunged into the dark opening of the purple tent; they heard murmurs within.When Tom Hunter responded impatiently to the phrenologist with regrettable indifference to the boundaries between natural and supernatural sciences, the lady was about to continue her argument with the little priest when she suddenly Stopped in surprise.James Hardcastle was seen coming out of the tent again, his astonishment all the more intense and prominent against the background of his gloomy expression and his shining monocle. "He's not in there," said the politician abruptly. "Already gone. An old nigger, probably the master's squire, mumbled to me that the master was gone because he wouldn't trade holy secrets for gold here."

Lady Mounteagle turned beamingly to the others. "Look," she cried. "As I said, he's on a higher level than you can imagine! He hates being in crowds; he's retired to solitude." "Sorry," said Father Brown gravely. "Perhaps I misunderstood him. Do you know where he went?" "I think so," said the hostess with equal gravity. "When he wants to be alone, he always goes to the cloister, which is at the end of the left wing of the house, behind my husband's study and private museum, you know. Perhaps you've heard that the house was once a convent." "I've heard it," replied the priest, with a small smile on his face. "We can go there, if you like," said the lady briskly. "You should really go and see my husband's collection; look at the red moon anyway. Have you ever heard of the red moon on Mount Meru? Yes, it's a ruby." "I'd love to see the collection," said Hardcastle softly, "including the Master of the Mount, if the Prophet is also one of the museum's collections." They all turned toward the road leading to the house. "Anyway," muttered Thomas the Skeptic in the rear, "I'd also like to know what the hell that brown brute is doing here if it's not for fortune-telling." When he pulled away, the unwilling Flosso took another big step after him, almost grabbing the back of his jacket. "Bump—" he began. "There's no bump," said the young man, "just piss. Every time I see the Mount Eagles, I'm pissed off." He ran, out of pursuit of the phrenologist. On the way to the cloister, the visitor must pass through a long room that houses Lord Mounteagle's remarkable private museum of Asian charms and mascots.Through an open door, they could see a row of Gothic pointed arches on the opposite side. The sunlight shone in between the pointed arches, illuminating the quadrangular courtyard. The monks in the past used to walk along the surrounding covered cloisters. Walk.Yet they had to pass something even stranger than the monk's ghost at first glance. He was an elderly gentleman, dressed from head to toe in white, with a light green turban on his head, but with the rosy complexion of an Englishman, and a smooth white beard, resembling some kindly expatriate in India. British Colonel.This man was Lord Mounteagle, who was more fascinated by or at least more serious about Eastern pleasures than his wife.He talked all about Eastern religions and philosophies, and nothing else; he even felt compelled to dress like an Eastern hermit.As happy as he is to display his treasures, he seems to value their symbolic truth more than collectible value, let alone cash value.He took out the huge ruby ​​to show everyone, judging by the price, it may be the only thing of great value in the museum, but he seems to be more interested in its name than its size, let alone price up. The others stared straight at the astonishingly large red stone, like looking at a raging bonfire through a rain of blood.But Lord Mounteagle rolled it in his palm without a glance; he stared at the ceiling and told them a legend about Mount Meru; How, in Steen mythology, unnamed primordial forces fought there. At the end of the lecture on the Gnostic Creator (without forgetting its relation to the parallel concept of Mani), even the seasoned Mr. Hardcastle felt it time to divert the subject.He begged to see the gem; and as night fell and the long room with only one door was dimming, he went into the back porch to admire the gem by the light from outside.That's when they first became aware of the existence of Master Shenshan, and it was a slow, almost eerie process. In its original structure, there was nothing special about this cloister; only a waist-high low wall connected a circle of Gothic columns and arches on the inner side of the perimeter of the quadrangle, thus changing the Gothic doors into Gothic windows, each with a slate sill.This alteration may have been long ago; but there were also stranger alterations, which testified to the distinct taste of the Lords and Mrs. Mounteagle.Thin curtains or drapes hung between the columns, made of beads or light rattan, in a strong Continental or Southern style; The colors and patterns are in stark contrast to the off-white Gothic border.But the odd modification blocks some of the light, making the courtyard look even darker at dusk.At this moment, those people suddenly realized with completely different feelings that there are really many strange things here, and what they saw just now is really nothing. In the open space in the middle of the cloister, there was a circular path paved with gray stone, trimmed with some kind of enamel border that looked like artificial grass, the whole effect was like drawing a circle in the middle of the square.In its very center, there is a raised dark green fountain, or pool raised above the ground, with water lilies floating in it, and goldfish swimming around; above.The figure turned its back to them, hunched over so that the face could not be seen at all, making it appear that the sculpture had no head.However, in the hazy dusk, some of them could still immediately see the dark silhouette and the image from Christianity. A few yards away, the man known as Master Kinabalu was standing on the circular path, gazing at the huge green idol.His slender, delicate features were like a coppery mask fashioned by some skilled craftsman.His dark gray beard, on the contrary, looked almost indigo-blue; it began in a small tuft under the chin, and then spread out like a large cattail fan or bird's wing.He was dressed in peacock-green robes, and on his bald head was an unusually tall hat: a head-dress such as none of them had ever seen; but it looked more Egyptian than Indian.The man stood there wide-eyed; fish-like eyes, motionless, like false eyes painted on mummified coffins.But, strange enough as the figure of Master Kinabalu was, some of the party, including Father Brown, were not looking at him; they were staring at the dark green idol as he was. "In the corridors of an ancient monastery," Hardcastle said, frowning, "it seems strange to have such a thing." "Why, don't tell me, you're going to be a fool again," said Lady Mounteagle. "That's exactly what we meant; to connect the great religions of the East and the West; Buddha and Christ. You have to understand that all religions are essentially the same." "If that were the case," said Father Brown mildly, "there would be no need to search for such a statue in Asia." "What Lady Mounteagle means is that they are of different facets or planes, just as there are many facets in this gem," began Hardcastle; and his interest in the new subject made it easy for him to Put the big ruby ​​on the slate windowsill under the Gothic arch. "But that doesn't mean we can mix these different aspects into one artistic style. You might mix Christianity with Islam, but you can't mix Gothic with Saracen, much less It's true Indian." While he was speaking, Master Shenshan circled another short section of the circle with a dignified expression like a cured frozen patient, and finally stopped outside the circle of arches where they were, with his back to them, looking at the back of the statue.Apparently, he was going around in circles, like the hands of a clock; just pausing at each section to pray or meditate. "What is his religion?" asked Hardcastle, a little impatiently. "He said," replied Lord Mounteagle respectfully, "that it is a religion older than Brahmanism, and purer than Buddhism." "Oh," replied Hardcastle, standing with his hands in his pockets, continuing to look through the monocle. "It is said," said the lord in his soft and didactic tone, "that in the grottoes of Mount Meru sits a gigantic statue of the god of the gods—" Even Lord Lord's calm words were suddenly interrupted by a voice behind him.The voice came from the dark museum they had just left on the corridor.Hearing that voice, the two young men looked incredulous at first, then turned suspicious to angry, and then almost bent over laughing. "Hopefully not too presumptuous," said Professor Flosso, the indomitable follower of the truth, in a suave and magnetic voice, "I thought some of you might take the time to listen to The much-neglected theory of skull bumps, that—" "Listen," cried the reckless Tommy Hunter, "I don't have any bumps on my head; but you're going to have some soon, you—" Hardcastle stopped him a little as he rushed through the door; for a moment the group turned their heads to look at the inner room. It was at that moment that things happened.Again reckless Tommy was the first to act, but this time the results were remarkable.It was too late to say it, and the moment Hardcastle suddenly remembered that he had dropped the gemstone on the window sill before the others could see clearly, Tommy had already jumped onto the corridor like a cat, with his head and The shoulder slipped through the gap between the two uprights, and with a voice that resounded through all the arches cried, "I've got him!" In that split second, before they had turned their backs to hear his triumphant cheer, they had all seen it.At the corner of one of the uprights a hand jerked in and jerked back, a brown or bronze hand, the color of scrap iron; as they had seen elsewhere .That hand was as straight as a striking snake; it was as unprepared as the long tongue of an anteater.But it has swept away the gems.The flagstone window-sills looked empty in the dim twilight. "I've got him," panted Tommy Hunter, "but he's struggling. You've caught him—he can't get away, anyway." Others responded, some ran down the corridor, some over the parapet, and it turned out that Hardcastle, Lord Mounteagle, Father Brown, and even the irresistible phrenologist Flosso The group of sirs quickly surrounded the captive Master Shenshan. Hunter was desperately grabbing his collar with one hand, and shaking it from time to time, without any regard for the face of the noble class of the prophet. "Now we've got him, anyway," Hunter said with a sigh of relief. "We just need to search for him. There must be something." Three quarters of an hour later.Hunter and Hardcastle looked at each other in the corridor, their top hats, ties, gloves, shoes and boots all disfigured by the chase. "Well," asked Hardcastle restrainedly, "what is your opinion on such mysteries?" "No way," replied Hunter, "you can't call it a mystery. Well, we all saw it with our own eyes." "Yes," replied the other, "but not all saw him and threw it away. The mystery is, where did he leave it so that we can't even find it?" "Must be somewhere," Hunter said. "Have you searched around the fountain and that old statue?" "I'm just short of dissecting those little fish," Hardcastle said, holding up his monocle and looking at him. "Do you remember the ring of Polycrates?" Obviously, the round face seen through the glasses convinced him that the other party was not thinking of the Greek legend. "It's not on him, I admit," repeated Hunter suddenly, "unless he swallows it." "Then shall we also dissect this prophet?" The other party asked with a smile. "But our master is here." "A very annoying thing indeed," said the lord, twirling his white beard with a nervous, even trembling hand. "It's terrible to have a thief in the house, let alone have a relationship with the master. However, I admit, I am confused by his words. I hope you can go in and see what's going on." They entered the house together, but Hunter lagged behind, chatting with Father Brown, who was already impatiently waiting in the corridor. "You must be very strong," said the priest cheerfully. "He's one-handed; he's got a lot of strength, and we're like a Hindu god with eight hands." They walked around the corridor once or twice, talking incessantly; then they also went into the back room, where Master Shenshan was sitting on a bench, looking like a prisoner, but with an air more like a king. As the lord said, his demeanor and tone are indeed difficult to understand.There was a quiet, yet secret, energy in his speech.He seemed to find it funny when they accused him of hiding the gem somewhere; and of course he showed no resentment.He seemed to be laughing at their efforts to recover what he had seen him take, making it even more bewildering. "You have seen a little," he said haughtily but with good intentions, "the laws of space and time; and in this your latest science is thousands of years behind our oldest religion. You don't even know what it means to hide a thing." No, my poor little friends, you don't even know what it means to see a thing; otherwise you would see it as plainly as I do." "You mean, it's here?" demanded Hardcastle roughly. "The word 'here' has several meanings, too," replied the mystic. "But I didn't say it was here. I just said I could see it." After an annoying silence, he continued dreamily. "If you sink into the boundless silence, do you think you can hear the cry from the other side of the world? The cry of a believer who lives alone in that mountain. The original god statue is there, and it is like a mountain itself. Some people say that even the Jews and Moslems might worship that image, too; for it was not man-made. Listen! He raised his head with a cry, and saw a fiery red, furious moon emerging from the hole in the stone that had been emptied for so many years. It was the Eye of the Mountain. , did you hear his cry?" "What do you mean," cried the lord, with a twitch in his heart, "can you make it run from here to Mount Meru? I used to believe that you possessed great spiritual power, but—" "Perhaps," said the Master, "I have many things that you would never believe." Hardcastle rose impatiently, and walked up and down the room with his hands in his pockets. "I never believed as much as you did; but I also admit that a certain—certain type of power might be able to... Lord!" His high, raspy voice stopped abruptly, and he stopped staring; the monocle slipped from his eye.They all turned their faces in the same direction; there seemed to be the same frozen expression on every face. The red moon of Mount Meru was lying on the slate window sill, just as they had seen it before.It might be said that it was the sparks of a burning bonfire, or the scattered petals of a broken rose; but it was falling where Hardcastle had left it at random. This time Hardcastle did not seek it again; yet his manner was notable.He turned around slowly, and walked up and down the room again with big strides; but his steps seemed to be strolling in a leisurely manner, which was quite different from the restlessness before.Finally, he stopped in front of the seated master and bowed with a self-deprecating smile on his face. "Master," he said, "we all owe you an apology, and more importantly, you taught us all a lesson. Believe me, it's not just a joke, it's a lesson. I'll always remember that you really had Extraordinary power, and you have no intention of using it to harm others. Lady Mounteagle," he said, turning to her, "forgive me for speaking to the Master first; but I had the honor of explaining it to you not long ago. Perhaps it may also be said I explained it before it happened. I told you, most of this can be explained by hypnotism. Many people believe that can explain all those Indian stories about mango trees and little boys climbing ropes story. It didn't really happen; rather the bystanders were hypnotized into thinking it happened. So we were all hypnotized into thinking the theft really happened. The brown one that came in through the window and snatched the jewel The hand was just an illusion; a hand in a dream. The problem is, after we saw the gem disappear, we never looked for it again. We rushed to the pool and searched every lotus leaf; only the goldfish Take emetic. But the ruby ​​is always here." He glanced at the master's milky eyes and smiling bearded mouth, and saw that the smile had parted a little.The meaning contained in it made the others stand up and breathe a sigh of relief. "We were all lucky enough to escape," said Lord Mounteagle, smiling mischievously. "We shouldn't have had any doubts about you. It was a very traumatic experience, and I don't know how to express my apologies—" "I have nothing to complain about," said Master Shenshan, still smiling. "You never met me at all." While the others were laughing away, crowding Hardcastle, the hero of the moment, the little phrenologist with the beard wandered to his absurd tent.He turned his head suddenly, and was surprised to see Father Brown following him. "Can I feel the hump of your skull?" the specialist asked, slightly sarcastic. "I suppose you don't want to touch any more, do you?" said the priest cheerfully. "You're a detective, aren't you?" "Yes," replied the other. "The lady asked me to keep an eye out for the master, and despite all the mysticism, she wasn't stupid; and when he left the tent, I could only follow him, pretending to be a nuisance and a paranoid. If someone walked into my room Tent, I have to look up what the bulge means in the encyclopedia." "Look! She's got a bump on the head; there's a folk song," said Father Brown dreamily. "Oh, that's what it looks like when you pester people at the fair." "Absurd, isn't it?" asked the fake phrenologist. "It's strange to think that things should have been there all the time." "Very strange," said the priest. There was something in his words, and the other party couldn't help but stop and stare. "Hi!" he cried. "What's the matter with you? Why are you looking at me that way? Don't you believe it's been there all along?" Father Brown blinked his eyes as if he had been slapped several times; then said slowly and hesitantly: "Yes, the truth is . . . I can't—I can't bring myself to believe it." "You're not one of those guys," said the other sharply. "You're a rambunctious brat. Tell me why you don't believe the ruby ​​was there all along?" "Because I put it back with my own hands," said Father Brown. The other party seemed to be nailed in place, his hair stood on end, his mouth was opened wide, and he couldn't say a word. "Or," continued the priest, "it was I who persuaded the thief to let me put it back. I told him my guess, and let him know that there was still time for repentance. I don't mind telling you the secret of my profession; besides, I Nor do I think the Lords and Mrs. Mounteagle will sue now that they have recovered the treasure, especially considering who the thieves are." "You mean the Master?" Flosso asked. "No," said Father Brown, "the Master did not steal." "Then I don't understand," protested the other. "No one was outside the window except the Master; and of course the hand came in from the outside." "The hand comes in from the outside, but the thief is in," said Father Brown. "It seems like we're back in fantasy again. Look, I'm a pragmatic guy; I just want to know if the ruby ​​is safe—" "I knew there was a problem," said Father Brown, "before I knew there was such a ruby." After a pause, he continued to speak thoughtfully. "When they were still arguing around the tent, I knew something was wrong. People will tell you that theory doesn't matter, that logic and philosophy don't work. Don't believe them. Rationality is God's gift, and if something goes beyond common sense, it shows Well, that rather abstract debate ended in something of a travesty. Think what theories are. Hardcastle is a little arrogant, saying anything is entirely possible; but most rely on hypnosis Usually they give scientific names to philosophical problems. However, Hunt thinks that they are all hoaxes and wants to expose lies. From the words of the lady, it can be seen that he not only debunks fortune-telling everywhere Sir's type, he actually came here to expose this fortune-teller. He didn't come often; Wanted to come, and hurried over. Very well. Still, it was Hardcastle who went to the wizard, and Hunter who refused to go. He said he didn't want to waste time on such nonsense; but Apparently he's wasted enough time in his life to prove that's nonsense. Clearly contradictory. He thought it was crystal ball reading; it turned out to be palm reading." "You mean he used that as an excuse?" asked his companion, puzzled. "That's what I thought at first, too," replied the priest, "but now I know it's not an excuse, it's a reason. In fact he's been stalling since he found out it was palm reading, because—" "Oh," the other party urged impatiently. "Because he didn't want to take the gloves off," said Father Brown. "Take off the gloves?" the other party repeated. "If he does," said Father Brown mildly, "we'll see his hands painted light brown... Oh, yes, he did come because the Master was here. come ready." "You mean," cried Flosso, "it's Hunter's hand, painted brown, coming in through the window? Oh, he's been with us all this time!" "If you try it out there, you'll see that it's very possible," the priest said. “亨特向前跃去，探出窗外；他可以瞬间扯掉手套，卷起袖子，从立柱的另一侧把手往回伸，同时用另一只手抓住那个印度人，高声呼喊说自己抓到贼了。我当时就说过，他是用一只手去抓贼，然而任何神志正常的人都会用两只手。只因他另外那只手正往裤子口袋里塞宝石呢。” 一阵长久的停顿过后，前颅相学家缓缓地说：“哦，那真令人吃惊。不过这事仍旧让我迷惑。首先，它不能解释老魔法师本人的怪诞行为。如果他完全是无辜的，他为何不说出来呢？他为何不因为受到指控和搜身而愤怒呢？他为何只是坐在那里，面带微笑，神乎其神地暗示自己都能做哪些疯狂而奇特的事情呢？” “哈！”布朗神父尖声叫道：“你真是一语中的啊！其中的玄机是这些人不能理解也不愿理解的。勋爵夫人说过，所有的宗教都是相同的。是吗，哎呀！告诉你吧，有些宗教的差别是如此之大，以至于一种信仰中最好的人也会是冷酷无情的，而另一种信仰中最坏的人也会是富于同情心的。我跟你说过，我不喜欢精神力量的说法，因为它强调的是'力量'这个词。我并不认为大师会偷红宝石，他偷的可能性微乎其微；很有可能他会觉得那东西不值得偷。珠宝对他来说诱惑力还不够；但对他来说，把跟珠宝一样不属于他的奇迹据为己有更有诱惑力。他今天就屈从了那种诱惑，那种偷窃。他想让我们认为他拥有神奇的精神力量，能够隔空抛物；即便他没做到，他也任凭我们认为他做到了。他根本就不会首先想到财产的归属问题。他要问的不会是'我要偷这颗宝石吗？'只能是'我能让这颗宝石消失，然后在遥远的山上重新出现吗？'这种句式。至于那是谁的宝石，对他来说无关紧要。我所说的'宗教是不同的'就是这个意思。他为拥有自己所说的精神力量深感自豪。但是他所说的精神跟我们所说的道德可不是一回事。那该算是心智，也就是超越物质的精神力量；是操控自然要素的魔术师。但我们的理念有所不同，哪怕我们也好不到哪去；哪怕我们还更糟糕。我们的先祖至少还是基督徒，我们是在那些中世纪的拱门下面长大的，即便我们现在用这些亚洲的妖魔鬼怪把它们装饰得花里胡哨了——我们有着完全相反的理想抱负，完全相反的羞耻感。我们都唯恐他人认为那事是我们干的。而他却急于让每个人都认为那事是他干的——即便不是他干的。他的做法等同于另类的沽名钓誉。当我们都把罪名像一条蛇那样甩开时，他实际上却像耍蛇者一样把它往身边引。只是蛇在咱们这个国家可不是宠物啊！基督教传统遇到这样的考验立刻就显现出来了。看看老芒特伊格尔本人吧！啊，你可以尽情地搞东方主义和神秘主义，包个头巾，穿个长袍，信奉婆罗门大圣传达的箴言；但是如果家中宝石被盗，你的朋友受到了怀疑，你很快就会发现你就是个惊慌失措的普通英国绅士而已。真正做了那事的人绝对不想让我们认为是他做的，因为他也是英国绅士。他还有某些更好的品质；他是个基督教盗贼。我希望，我也相信，他是个悔过的贼。” “照你那么说，”他的同伴笑着说，“基督教的贼跟异教的贼完全相反了。一个为做过某事而耿耿于怀，一个为没做某事而耿耿于怀。” “我们不要对他们中的任何一个太过苛责了，”布朗神父说。“别的英国绅士之前也偷过东西，而且还受到了法律和政治的庇护；美国人也有自己一套独特的诡辩术用来遮掩偷盗行为。毕竟，这颗红宝石并不是世界上唯一一种易主的宝石；别的石头也难逃厄运；特别是那些经过精雕细刻、颜色又像花儿一样艳丽的石头。”另外一人好奇地看着他；神父用手指着大修道院的哥特式轮廓。“那一大片雕刻的大石头，”他说，“也是偷来的。”