Chapter 2 Thieves' Paradise

Among the young poets of Tuscany, the great Muscari was also something of a celebrity, with a reputation for originality.At this moment, he walked quickly into the restaurant he liked the most.It is situated on the edge of the Mediterranean, overlooking the sea, with an awning overhead and surrounded by a ring of lemon and orange trees that form a natural hedge.The waiters in white aprons have already started to set up the white tables for the exquisite brunch; this exquisite scene seems to add a lot of glory to the beautiful dining environment.Muscari has the same hooked nose as Dante; he has black hair, a soft and flowing black scarf around his neck, and a black cloak on his back. A black mask, in that case it is quite a bit of a Venetian melodrama.He acted like a troubadour who traveled far and wide, but at the same time he had a specific circle of life like a bishop.He made full use of the space of movement that the era provided, living a life of his own at home, like Don Juan traveling around the world with a slender sword and a guitar.

When he travels, he always takes two suitcases: one contains all kinds of swords, with which he has fought wonderful duels with countless people; On holidays it was used to serenade the traditional Miss Ethel Harrogate, daughter of a Yorkshire banker.However, he was neither a charlatan nor a naive and ignorant child, but a clear-minded and passionate Latin. If he liked something, he would practice it and devote himself to it.His poetry is as straightforward as anyone else's prose.He is eager for fame, he is obsessed with wine and beauty, he is passionate, and he always expresses his love and hatred heartily, and he never hides and shrinks like the northerners.In the eyes of those introverted ethnic groups, his performance is too intense, which makes people feel dangerous and even criminal.He is like a burning fire or a rough sea, so innocent that people can't believe it.

The English banker and his beautiful daughter lived in the hotel attached to the restaurant, which was the real reason Muscari frequented the restaurant.A quick glance about him told him that the Englishman had not yet left the room and was coming downstairs.The glasses and plates in the restaurant are shining, but there are still few diners, and it looks empty.There were two priests chatting in a corner of the dining room. Although Muscari was a devout Catholic, he didn't pay much attention to them at the moment, just treating them as two noisy crows.There was a seat further away hidden behind a dwarf tree covered with kumquats. The guest who had been sitting there got up and walked towards him.His style of dress was very different from his own.

I saw the visitor wearing a tweed suit with a colorful plaid pattern, a pink tie, a crisp collar, and eye-catching yellow boots on his feet.The outfit he had deliberately put together was in true Margate country tradition, flamboyant but uninspired.As the Cockney-looking guy approached, Muscari was surprised to find that this English-style man clearly had an Italian head.A mop of curly hair and a dark but vivid face stand tall above a stiff collar and festive pink tie.In fact, he was too familiar with this face.That dazzling English resort outfit didn't prevent Muscari from recognizing him: the all but forgotten old friend Essa.He was a well-known wizard in college and became famous in Europe when he was just 15 years old.But after he stepped onto the social stage, he achieved nothing.He started out publicly as a playwright and demagogue, and later spent several years in private as an actor, traveler, commissioned agent, or journalist.The last thing Muscari remembered was that he was an actor, and he was never heard from again.He reveled in the limelight, but he was later embroiled in a major scandal that reportedly cost him his stage career.

"Esa!" cried the poet, rising to his feet, and shaking his hand in amazement. "Oh, I used to see you in all kinds of costumes in the green room, but I never dreamed you would be dressed as an Englishman." "This," Essa replied solemnly, "is not the dress of the English, it is the dress of the future Italians." "If that's the case," Muscari said, "I have to admit, I prefer the Italians' past." "That's your old problem, Muscari," said Essa in tweed, shaking his head. "Of course, it's an Italian problem too. We Tuscans started the modern day in the sixteenth century." Civilization: the newest steelwork, the latest carvings, and chemical processes. Why shouldn't we have the newest factories, the newest cars, the newest finances—the latest fashions?"

"Because it's not necessary," Muscari replied. "The Italians have a hard time really progressing because they are so smart. Once they find a shortcut to a comfortable life, they never look at the complicated new paths." "Yes, in my opinion, Marconi or D'Annunzio is the pride of Italy, and their brilliance still exists today." Essa replied. "So I'm now a futurist — and a tour guide." "Guide!" Muscari laughed. "This is the latest in a long line of careers for you? As a tour guide for whom?" "Oh, a man named Harrogate, and there must be his family."

"Is it the banker who lives in this hotel?" asked Muscari eagerly. "That's him," Essa replied. "Is the pay good?" the troubadour asked naively. "There will be an income," Essa said with a cryptic smile. "But I'm not an ordinary tour guide." Then, as if to change the subject, he said suddenly: "The banker came with his daughter and son." "His daughter is a fairy," assured Muscari, "and as for the father and son, I suppose they are mere mortals. Leaving aside the virtues of his kindness, don't you think he is what I mean?" Laity? He has millions in his safe, and mine is empty. But you can't tell—you can't—he's smarter, bolder, and more alive than I am. He doesn't Clever, those blue eyes are like two buttons, lifeless; he has no energy, like a stroke, he has to find a chair to sit down after walking two steps. He is also very dutiful and amiable Old fool. He's rich, but it's nothing more than a kid collecting stamps. You're too business-minded, Esa. That's why you won't be as successful as he is. A man wants to have With so much money, you have to be stupid enough to want so much money first.”

"I'm already that stupid to say that," Essa said despondently. "But I think you'd better suspend your judgments of him, the banker has come in." He was right.It was indeed Mr. Harrogate, the eminent banker, who entered, but no one looked at him.He was a heavyset old man with cloudy blue eyes and a grayish flaxen mustache.If it weren't for his hunched back, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he was a colonel.He held several unopened letters in his hand.His son, Frank, was handsome, curly-haired, tanned, and young.But no one around him paid attention to him either.As usual, at this moment at least, all eyes were fixed on Ethel Harrogate.She has a Greek face and blond hair, and her complexion is as soft as the morning light, just like a picture of a goddess rising from the blue sea.The poet Muscari couldn't help but take a deep breath, which felt like drinking indulgently.Indeed, it can be said that he drank Pingting's peerless classics created by his ancestors.Essa stared at her too, only more bewildered.

Miss Harrogate is radiant and happy to fit into the conversation, and her family have adapted to the easygoing customs of the Continent, allowing strangers Muscari and even Essa the tour guide to sit at their table.In Ethel Harrogate, traditional habits are not only perfectly embodied, but also shining with unique brilliance.Proud of her father's achievements, she also loves fashion and enjoys it.She is a pampered daughter and a master flirt, and when combined with her natural kindness, her aloofness becomes pleasant, and her dignity in worldly society seems So fresh and genuine. At the moment, the topic of their heated debate is whether the mountain road they will go on an outing this week is really as dangerous as people say.Of course, the danger they mentioned had nothing to do with rolling rocks or avalanches, but a more romantic situation.Ethel was convinced that the contemporary legends were true, that the bandits were outlaws outright, who still haunted the ridges and held the passes in the Apennines.

"They say," she said like an innocent little girl, "that it is not the king who rules all Italy, but the lord of all thieves. But who is he?" "A big man, ma'am," Muscari replied, "a big man to rival your Robin Hood. About ten years ago, when the story of Montano, the Lord of Thieves, was Extinct. But at this moment, Montano appeared in the mountains. Like a silent revolution, he soon became famous. In every mountain village, people can see his fierce proclamations; in every valley , flashes of his gun-toting sentinels. Six times the Italian government has suppressed bandits, but each time it ended in a disastrous defeat after a fierce battle, and their opponents were as difficult to subdue as Napoleon."

"Such a thing," said the banker anxiously, "is absolutely not allowed in England. In that case, we may have to take another route. But our guide thinks it is safe." "It's very safe," said Esa haughtily. "I've come and gone there twenty times. There may have been a habitual criminal who ruled the hills in our grandmother's day, but that sort of thing was long ago, if not made up. It's history. Highway robbery has long been eradicated." "It's impossible to eradicate," retorted Muscari. "Armed rebellion is commonplace for southerners. Our peasants are as benevolent and alive as mountains, but deep down they burn Fire. There are usually two reactions when people are in a desperate situation: Northerners are used to drinking to drown their sorrows—our poor people in the South are different, they will take up daggers.” "Poets are different," Essa said with a sneer. "If Mr. Muscari were English, he might still be looking for robbers in the London Borough of Wandsworth. Believe me, there is no more danger of being mugged in Italy than there is in Boston. same risk of being scalped." "Would you mind going there?" asked Mr. Harrogate, frowning. "Oh, that sounds terrible!" Ethel exclaimed.She looked at Muscari with twinkling beautiful eyes. "Do you really think that pass is dangerous?" Muscari tossed back his black hair. "I knew there was danger there," he said. "I'll go see it tomorrow." After some disputes, Ethel got up and left with the old Harrogate, while Essa and Muscari continued to sarcastically sarcasm each other, and the young Harrogate was temporarily ignored. He drank the white wine in the glass alone, and then lit a cigarette.At this moment, the two priests who had been sitting in the corner of the restaurant stood up.The tall, white-haired Italian priest left the dining room, while the shorter priest turned and approached the banker's son.Little Harrogate was surprised to find that the Roman Catholic priest was actually an Englishman.He vaguely remembered seeing this man at a party of his Catholic friends.But before he could remember, the priest spoke. "Mr. Frank Harrogate," said he, "I think I have introduced myself to you, but I don't expect you to remember me. The strange thing I have to say would have been told by a stranger Might be more appropriate. Mr. Harrogate, I have but one word, and I shall go: take care of your distraught sister!" Where did this come from?Although the elder brother Frank usually doesn't care about his sister at all, he can't avoid her lively voice and smile, and the sarcasm still echoes clearly in his ears; at this moment, he can still hear his sister's laughter From the hotel garden.Bewildered, Frank stared at the sombre-looking counselor. "Are you talking about those robbers?" he asked, remembering what he had been worried about, "or do you need to beware of Muscari?" "True grief is never understood," said the eccentric priest. "It is only when there is an emergency that there is kindness." After speaking, the priest hurried away.Frank, who was left stunned, sat there stunned. A day or two later, a carriage full of people set off on the road, bumping all the way, and slowly climbing up the sharp slope of the steep mountain mouth.No matter how easily Essa denied the existence of danger, and no matter how fiercely Muscari refuted it, the Harrogate family's original intention of going up to the mountain was not affected in any way.Muscari wanted to come alone, but in the end he chose to go with the crowd and take a tour into the mountain.What was even more astonishing was that when the carriage passed a post station in a small seaside town, the short priest suddenly appeared and joined them.He claimed that he was on a business trip and just needed to cross the central mountainous area.However, this unexpected encounter seemed not so simple, and little Harrogate couldn't help but think of his mysterious warning yesterday and the fear that arose from it. They were traveling in a four-wheeled light carriage with a relatively spacious interior, which was the masterpiece of the modernist talent Essa.In fact, in order to facilitate this trip, Essa ran back and forth, fully displaying his scientific talents and lively and witty personality traits throughout the event.At this time, people are no longer just speculating or talking about the possible dangers brought by robbers, but their attention is turning to preventive actions.Essa and Frank both carried loaded revolvers, and Muscari (happy like a boy at the moment) wore a short sword under the cover of a black cloak. When getting into the car, Muscari took the first step and sat next to the lovely Ethel; on the other side of her sat the priest, his name was Brown, and he was not very talkative, which Muscari was grateful for. Essa and Harrogate sat in the back seat.Muscari firmly believed that the crime was more serious than good, but he talked and laughed happily along the way. Such a different behavior might make his chat partner, Miss Ethel, think that he was mentally abnormal.The carriage continued to climb up among the lush cliffs. The cliffs on both sides were like a series of steep peaks covered by orchards. The journey of climbing up step by step showed amazing and infinite charm. Ethel could not help but be infected by this scene. Feeling my soul being attracted by something, rising with it, into a strange purple heaven, with many spinning and shining suns in front of my eyes.The whitened mountain road twists and turns, like a white cat crawling among the mountains, sometimes like a tight rope across the dark abyss, sometimes like a thrown lasso entwined around the protruding hills. However, no matter how high they climbed, the wilderness in front of them was always as lush as a rose.The fields blown by the breeze are colorful under the sunshine, as if kingfishers, parrots and hummingbirds are flying and dancing among them, a scene of a hundred flowers blooming and competing for beauty.As for meadows and woodlands, there is nothing lovelier than in England; and for mountains and valleys, none so magnificent as Snowdon and Glencoe.But Ethel had never been to the Snowdon Peak Scenic Area, nor had she seen the lush South Slope Park against the steep, rocky North Slope; It is full of various fruit trees, and it is actually rich in the unique fruits of Kent in southeastern England.In the impression of the British, high mountains and wilderness often mean cold and desolate, but the scenery here has a special flavor.It is more like a palace made of multicolored pictures, which fell to the ground in an earthquake and was fragmented; it is also like a Dutch tulip garden, which was blown up and its petals fell to the ground. "It's like Kew Gardens on Beachy Point!" Ethel exclaimed. “It’s the work of nature,” Muscari said. “It’s the work of the volcano. It’s like a revolution on earth, violent and fruitful.” "I'm afraid you have violent tendencies yourself." She smiled at him. "But it didn't work out," he admitted. "If I die tonight, I'll always be a bachelor and a fool." "It's you who wanted to come, and it's not my fault." Ethel didn't know how to respond for a while, and said after a moment of silence. "Of course it wasn't your fault," Muscari replied, "Troy fell, and it wasn't your fault either." While they were talking, the carriage had already driven under a cliff, and the rock wall that was about to fall was like spreading wings, casting a huge shadow, covering the narrow and dangerous rock ridge. This scene frightened several horses, He hesitated.The coachman jumped out of the car and tried to lead them forward, but found that they didn't obey.A horse raised its front hooves vigorously, and its hind legs supported its huge and terrifying body, almost standing upright.The horse's violent action suddenly broke the balance, the carriage was like a small boat in the stormy sea, the front of the carriage tilted up, smashed through the hedge on the side of the road and fell over.Muscari threw his arms around Ethel hastily, and she clung to him, screaming.A thought flashed through Muscari's mind: he lived for such moments. Muscari only felt that the majestic rock wall was spinning like a purple windmill in front of his eyes, and almost at the same time, a more thrilling scene happened.Old Harrogate, who had been drowsy all this time, stood up abruptly, and jumped straight off the cliff before the tilting carriage overturned.At first glance, his actions seemed to be no different from suicide, but on second thought, it could not be more sensible.Only now did Muscari realize that he had underestimated the old Yorkshireman, who was quick and insightful; but seeing that he was unbiased, he just jumped onto a small piece of flat ground covered with a layer of soft The turf, overgrown with clover, seemed to have been specially arranged to catch him.As it happened, the others were also lucky, only to be thrown out and fall to the ground in dismay.Just below that detour was a hollow overgrown with flowers and grass, which looked like a green velvet sack sewn on the long green coat wrapped around the hill.Because of this, after everyone rolled down, they were not injured, but some small pieces of luggage, including the items in their pockets, were scattered on the ground.The wagon was entangled in the hedges on either side of the road and hung above them, and the horses hung in agony on the slope.The short priest was the first to sit up, scratching his head in a daze, with a dazed expression on his face.Frank Harrogate heard him saying to himself: "How did we end up here?" The priest blinked, looked around the scattered objects, and picked up his heavy umbrella.On the other side of the umbrella lay Muscari's dropped sombrero, and beside it was an unopened business letter.He glanced at the recipient's address and handed it to old Harrogate.On the other side of the priest, Miss Ethel's sun hat was half hidden in the grass, and just outside it was a strange little glass bottle, maybe two inches long.The priest picked it up, quickly pulled out the cork as if nothing had happened, and sniffed at the mouth of the bottle, his serious face suddenly turned gray. "My God!" he murmured, "couldn't it be hers? Has her grief come?" He slipped it into his vest pocket. "I think I'm doing the right thing," he said. "I need to know more." The priest gazed at Ethel with a painful face, and Muscari was helping her up from the flowers, and heard her say: "We have fallen into the kingdom of heaven; this is a sign. When mortals climbed to the heights, will fall downward; only the gods can fall upward." Indeed, Ethel looked so pretty and so happy when she rose from among the colorful flowers.Looking at the scene in front of him, the priest couldn't help but shake his initial doubts, and another thought came to his mind. "Perhaps," he thought, "the vial of poison is not hers, but perhaps an exaggerated trick by Muscari." Muscari carefully helped her stand, then made a funny bow to her as if on the stage, then drew his short sword, and cut off the tight rein with all his strength, and the horses Struggling to stand on the grass, the body was still shaking.Muscari was about to catch his breath after a busy day, when he discovered something unusual.A ragged, tanned man quietly emerged from the bushes, and walked over to hold the horses.At his belt was a broad, scimitar that looked strange.Other than that, there is nothing special about it, but his sudden appearance without making a sound is unavoidably suspicious.Muscari opened his mouth to ask who he was, but the man ignored him. Muscari looked around and saw that everyone in the depression looked confused and surprised.The next moment he saw another man, suntanned and ragged, standing on a rock jutting out from the bottom of the hollow, with a short gun under his arm, and looking at them with his elbows on the edge of the grass.Muscari looked up and saw that at the position where they fell just now, there were four other carbines pointing at them. The four people holding the guns also had tanned faces, their eyes were like torches, and they remained motionless. stared at them. "Bandits!" Muscari yelled, with excitement in his tone. "It's a trap. Essa, if you can get rid of the coachman first, I think we can get out. There are only six of them." "The coachman," said Essa coldly, standing there with his hands in his pockets, "just happens to be Mr. Harrogate's servant." "Then he deserves to be killed," cried Muscari impatiently. "He took black money and framed his master. We guarded Miss Ethel and rushed to break up the people above." .” Facing the muzzle of the carbine above his head, Muscari was not afraid and climbed hard among the wildflowers and grass.But then he discovered that no one had moved except little Harrogate.He turned and waved his short sword, motioning for them to follow.He saw Essa still standing in the middle of the grass, with his legs straddled and his hands still in his pockets; he had a sarcastic face, his thin face elongated in the night light. "Muscari, you think I'm a loser among my classmates," he said, "and you're a winner yourself. But I've achieved so much more than you, and I'll go down in history. I've always done what I did Perform epic, and you only write history." "Hurry up and stop talking nonsense!" Muscari shouted condescendingly. "We need to rescue a lady, there are 3 men who can help you, and you stand there talking nonsense. With this performance, what do you call yourself?" "I am Montano," cried the indifferent Essa loudly, "I am the Lord of Thieves. Welcome to my summer resort!" While he was speaking, five more people came out of the bushes without saying a word, all looking at Essa with guns, waiting for his orders.One of the robbers was holding a large sheet of paper. "This beautiful little nest where we all had a picnic," continued the guide-turned-robber, still relaxed, but with a wicked smile on his face, "and the caves below it, it's famous' Thieves' Paradise'. This is my stronghold in the hills; and the reason, no doubt, you have noticed, is that the place is not visible either from the road above, or from the valley below. The place is easy to defend, But the most important thing is that it's not easy to find. I live here most of the time, and if the police track it down, I will definitely be buried here. I'm not the kind of criminal who 'fights to the death', I'm better than them A lot, and I'll have the last bullet ready for myself." Everyone was nailed to the spot as if struck by lightning, staring at him in astonishment, except for Father Brown.He let out a long breath, as if relieved, and at the same time reached out to touch the small glass bottle in his pocket. "Thank God!" he murmured to himself, "that's about the same. The poison belongs to the bandit leader, of course. With it, he will never be captured alive, like Cato." The king of all thieves was in the middle of a conversation, and continued his high-spirited talk in a polite but murderous tone. "Next," he said, "I just want to introduce to my guests what I am going to do here. The ransom thing is nothing more than an old routine that has existed since ancient times, so there is no need to explain it. I Responsibility is inescapable. But even the ransom is only for some of you. Early tomorrow morning, I will release Lord Father Brown and the famous Muscari and escort them down the mountain. Pardon I bluntly say that poets and priests have always been poor. Since they have nothing to gain, we might as well be a favor and take the opportunity to express our respect to classical literature and the Holy Church." He paused for a moment and smiled distastefully.Father Brown looked at him, blinking constantly, as if suddenly interested in what he had to say, and began to listen intently.The King of Thieves took the piece of paper from the minion next to him, quickly scanned it, and continued: "As for my other intentions, they have been clearly written on this notice. You can pass it on later. Take a look. After reading it, this notice will be posted on the trees around every village in the valley and at every intersection in the mountains. I won’t go into details about its specific content. You can read it yourself. There are two main ones: First, I declare that Mr. Samuel Harrogate, British millionaire and financial magnate, is in my possession. Second, I declare that £2,000 worth of notes and bonds have been found on him, and that he has put them It was given to me. The thing is, it would be immoral for me to announce to a credulous public that nothing is true. So I offer to cash it out, and old Mr. Harrogate hand me the £2,000 I have in my pocket right now." The banker looked at him frowning, his face flushed sullenly, but he looked genuinely frightened.When the carriage overturned, his leap seemed to use up all his energy.While Muscari and Frank made a bold move to break through the bandits' circle, he just stood there dejectedly.Now, with trembling red and swollen hands, he reached into his breast pocket reluctantly, took out a stack of papers and a few envelopes, and handed them to the robber Esa. "Very good!" Essa said happily. "So far, we all get along very well. Let me continue the topic just now and talk about the main points of the announcement that will be announced to the whole of Italy soon. The third point involves It's a ransom. I demand £3,000 ransom from my friends in the Harrogate family. I don't think that's much, and it's kind of insulting to underestimate the value of his family. In order to be able to climb up this rich family, there is a chance Keeping in touch, who would not want to pay 3 times the price to redeem him? To be honest, at the end of the notice is some cliché, talking about what kind of bad consequences will happen if the money is not received. But then again, Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you that this is my safe haven, I'm going to spend the night, enjoy wine and cigars, please allow me to welcome you, this is a camping outing, enjoy 'thieves' paradise' living in luxury." While he was speaking, some more minions were gathering silently, all of them armed with carbines and wearing dirty soft-brimmed hats and looking suspicious.There are so many of them that Muscari has to admit that it is almost impossible to break out of the encirclement with a short sword.He looked around and found that Ethel had already walked to his father and was comforting him.She was proud, even to the point of snobbery, of her father's accomplishments, but she felt as strong a familial love for him personally, or more than that.Faced with this scene, Muscari, who is in love, has an indescribable feeling in her heart. She admires her caring heart for her father, but at the same time feels dissatisfied.He put the dagger back into the scabbard with a snap, walked to the green slope sullenly, and sat down on the ground.Father Brown also sat down not far from him, and Muscari turned his head to face him, with an unknown fire in his heart. "Hey," said Muscari sharply, "does anyone think I'm crazy? Tell me, have the robbers in the mountains really been eradicated?" "Perhaps so," replied Father Brown ambiguously. "What did you say?" Muscari snapped. "I mean, I'm confused too," replied the priest. "It's this Essa or Montano, whatever his name is that's confusing me. I always think he's confusing enough as a guide." .robbers? That confuses me even more." "How do you say that?" asked Muscari. "Hey! I thought it was obvious that he was a thief." "There are three things I can't figure out," Father Brown whispered. "I want to hear your opinion. First, I want to tell you that I also had lunch at that seaside restaurant that day. When the four of you left, you Talking and laughing with Miss Harrogate and walking ahead; old Harrogate and Essa following, and they spoke very little, and when they did so in a low voice. But I overheard Essa saying ' Yes, just make her a little bit happier. You know the blow could break her at any moment.' Old Harrogate didn't answer. So there must be something in that remark. I was on the spur of the moment. , I told her brother that she might be in danger; I didn't say what kind of danger it was, because I didn't know. However, if the danger is being robbed now, it obviously doesn't make sense. Because, since this robber and tour guide Desiring to lure old Harrogate into a trap, why should he warn his customers, even if it was only a small hint? So it must not be this. But if not, Essa and old Harrogate again We all know that disaster will come to Miss Harrogate, and what kind of disaster will it be?" "Miss Harrogate will be in trouble?" Muscari straightened up suddenly, and couldn't help blurting out. "Go on, hurry up." "However, the mystery in my heart is all related to this king of thieves," Father Brown continued thoughtfully. "Then I will talk about the second question. When asking for ransom, why did he emphasize that the victim was killed on the spot?" Take £2,000 from the victim? This in itself does not show that they really want a ransom. In fact, on the contrary, it will make Harrogate friends feel that the robber is very serious and that something will happen to him. However, he exaggerated the fact that the 'robbery' was on the spot, and it was the first of his demands. Why did Essa Montano spread the word and let the whole of Europe know: before he blackmails the bankers Take out his wallet?" "I can't think of it," Muscari said without any unusual behavior this time, just rubbing his black hair. "You may think that you are enlightening me, but in fact, the more I listen to it, the more confused I become. What is the third doubt about the Lord of Thieves?" "The third doubt," Father Brown was still thinking hard, "is that The place where we are sitting now. Why does this bandit and tour guide say that this is his important stronghold, and call it "the paradise of thieves"? Of course, this open space is indeed soft, and it will not break if it falls. The view is nice too. And, as he said, it's not visible from either the top of the hill or the valley, so it's an ideal hiding place. But it's not a stronghold. It can never be a stronghold. If it is a stronghold If you think about it, it can only be regarded as the worst one in the world. Because, a road that crosses the entire mountain range is just above it, and this is where the police are most likely to pass. Think about it, half an hour ago, they used 5 old roads We've been overwhelmed by the short guns. Now just one platoon of soldiers is enough to knock everyone here off the cliff. Whatever this strange flowery corner means, it's definitely not a stronghold, but something else. It has a strange importance, and another use, which I haven't figured out. It's more like a natural theater or green room discovered by accident; it's like a stage for a romantic comedy ；它就像是——” 神父很认真地越讲越多，渐渐显得有些单调，几近梦呓。穆斯卡里听得有些不耐烦了，但他一直保持着高度警觉，此时隐约听到山里传来异样的声响。这声音非常微弱，但他敢发誓，习习晚风中确实夹杂着某种声音，似乎是奔腾的群马，依稀还有叫喊声。 此时那几个英国人并没有感觉到任何异样，因为他们缺乏在这种环境下的生活经验，耳朵没那么灵敏；但蒙塔诺则不同，他已跑到边坡的高处，在被马车撞坏的树篱后，靠着一棵树站稳，顺着那条路张望。他站在那里时显得很滑稽：为了突出他的匪首身份，他已戴上了一顶怪模怪样两边耷拉着的帽子、佩戴着来回晃荡的肩带和一把短剑，但他这副行头掩饰不住他那身导游身份的粗花呢衣服，鲜亮的斑斑块块显得异常刺眼。 过了片刻，他转过茶青色的面孔，一脸不屑地打了个手势。众劫匪迅速有序地向四处散开，可以明显看出他们接受过游击战术的严格训练。但他们没去占据那条沿山脊而行的马路，而是藏身在路边的林子里和树篱后面，像是在暗中监视着敌人。远处的声音越来越大，可以感到路面开始震动，已经能清晰地听见有人在大声发出命令。劫匪们纷纷躲进更隐蔽之处，缩成一团，低声咒骂着，有人扣上手枪的扳机，有人解下腰刀拿在手里，枪套或剑鞘划过岩石，令夜晚的空气中到处回响着细微的金属碰撞声。转眼间，两处的声响汇集到空地上方的马路上，只听见折断的树枝噼噼啪啪作响，马的嘶鸣声和人的呐喊声乱作一团。 “救援来啦！”穆斯卡里大喊一声，腾地站起身，挥舞着他的帽子。“警察开始收拾这些劫匪啦！为了自由，冲上去！一起去干掉他们！来吧，别什么都推给警察；那种现代社会推崇的做法是不对的。咱们从后面袭击那帮恶棍。现在，警察来救我们了。来吧，朋友们，一起上去帮一把吧！” 穆斯卡里说着话，随手把帽子朝树后扔了过去，他再次拔出短剑，开始沿着斜坡向上面的马路爬去。弗兰克·哈罗盖特也跟着跳了起来，手握转轮手枪，跑过去帮他。但他愕然听到父亲开口阻止他，老哈罗盖特声音沙哑，似乎心烦意乱到了极点。 “我不同意，”老哈罗盖特用近乎窒息的声音说，“我命令你不要参与。” “可是，父亲！”弗兰克满怀热情地说，“这位意大利人冲到了前面，难道你想让人笑话我们英国人畏缩不前吗？” “没有用，”老哈罗盖特一边说，身体一边在剧烈地颤抖，“没有用。我们只能听天由命了。” 布朗神父看着这位银行家，然后本能地把手放在胸前，实际上是去摸那只装着毒药的小瓶子。他的脸上突然闪现出一道光芒，如同得到了天主的启示。 此刻，穆斯卡里没再停下来等待后援，他冲上边坡，到了大路上，照着万贼之王埃萨的肩膀狠狠一击，埃萨不由得打了一个晃，拔出短剑转过身来。穆斯卡里二话不说，又挥剑劈向他的脑袋，埃萨赶忙招架、抵挡。就在俩人你来我往，刀光剑影拼杀之际，埃萨故意半途收剑，闪在一边笑了起来。 “何必要这样，老伙计？”埃萨用地道的意大利俗语冲他说道，“这场该死的闹剧很快就要收场啦。” “你什么意思？想蒙混过关？”步步紧逼的穆斯卡里气喘吁吁。“难道你不仅不诚实，连胆量都是冒牌的？” “有关我的一切都是假的。”埃萨已彻底放松，他愉快地答道，“我是个演员，早就丢掉了我的本来面目。我既不是真的导游，也不是真的强盗，我只是一堆假面具，你不能与这些面具决斗。”这话一说完，他就像个小孩子那样天真地笑了起来，然后又恢复了双腿跨立的姿势，背对着马路上的战场。 绝壁下夜色渐浓，很难看出冲突双方的胜负，只是依稀可见那些高大的警察催马向前，冲击那群顽抗的盗贼，而后者似乎无意厮杀，只是不断地骚扰，推搡他们。在穆斯卡里眼里，这场面简直就像一群市民围着警察不让他们通过一样，根本不像是大祸临头、负隅顽抗的歹徒该有的表现。穆斯卡里转动着双眼，大惑不解地望着眼前的场景。就在这时，有人碰了碰他的肘部，是小个子布朗神父，他就像小一号的诺亚戴着顶大号的帽子，神情诡异地站在那里，他表示想跟穆斯卡里说几句话。 “穆斯卡里先生，”神父说，“在这场奇怪的危机中，任何不当言辞都是情有可原的。我无意冒犯，只是想告诉你，有件事能让你显得更有用，你不用帮警察，他们迟早会赢。请允许我冒昧地干预你的私生活，我想知道，你爱那个姑娘吗？我是说真心爱她，要娶她，做她的好丈夫，是吗？” “是的。”穆斯卡里的回答很干脆。 "Does she like you?" “我想是的，”这回答同样很庄重。 “那就过去帮帮她吧，”神父说道，“为她献出你的一切，为她献出天和地——假如你有的话。时间已经不多了。” “为什么？”诗人惊奇地问道。 “因为，”布朗神父答道，“她的厄运就要来了。” “除了救兵，”穆斯卡里反驳道，“什么都不会来。” “好吧，你快过去，”神父说道，“从你说的救兵那里把她救出来吧。” 正当神父说着话时，溃败的劫匪们彻底冲开了路边的树篱。他们俨然是一群丢盔卸甲的残兵败将，纷纷钻入灌木丛和草丛深处；透过破损的树篱，人们可以看见骑马走过的警察戴着的三角帽。然后是一声令下，只听到众人纷纷下马的嘈杂声。紧接着，在树篱的缺口处，也是“盗贼的乐园”的入口处出现了一位身材高大的警官，他头戴三角帽，蓄着已显灰白的帝髯，手里还拿着一纸公文。大家一时间都静了下来。但老银行家异乎寻常的举动打破了现场的沉默，他像被扼住了喉咙般地嘶吼起来：“抢劫！我被抢劫了！” “是啊，你被抢了2000英镑，”他的儿子弗兰克惊讶地说：“但那都是几个小时前的事了。” “不是2000英镑，”银行家说道，突然镇静得让人害怕，“只是一个小瓶子。” 那位蓄着花白帝髯的警官阔步走过绿草如茵的凹地，中途与万贼之王打了个照面，伸手拍了拍他的肩膀，像是安抚又像是警告，然后使劲儿一推，埃萨不由得打了个趔趄。“你要是不想惹麻烦，”警官说道，“就别耍这些花样。” 穆斯卡里再次发现，这根本不像是抓获走投无路的万贼之王的场面。警官走过他身边，在老哈罗盖特一家人面前停了下来，说道：“塞缪尔·哈罗盖特，你涉嫌盗用赫尔－哈德斯菲尔德银行的资金，我现在以法律的名义宣布逮捕你。” 这位大银行家以一种公事公办的古怪表情微微点了点头，似乎琢磨了一会儿。然后他半转过身，迈出一步站在了悬崖边上，还没等他人做出任何反应，他就像当初跳出马车时一样举起双手纵身跳了下去。但他这次没有跳到下面那一小片草地上，而是跳进了1000英尺深的峡谷，摔了个粉身碎骨。 意大利警官憋着一肚子气，对着布朗神父唠叨个没完，但他的钦佩之情也溢于言表。“看来他这次是彻底地逍遥法外了，”他说，“要我说的话，他才是个大强盗。我想，在他一生所设计的骗局中，最后这个绝对无与伦比。他挟带公司的巨款潜逃到意大利，然后出钱找人扮成劫匪，自导自演了这场绑架闹剧，想以这种方式掩盖巨款和他本人失踪的真相。当时大多数警察都信以为真，觉着确实发生了绑架案。可是，他多年来一直变着法耍弄人，跟这次差不多，只是不如这次巧妙。对他的家人来说，他的死确实是个重大的损失。” 穆斯卡里牵着埃塞尔的手，准备离去，她很悲伤，紧握着他的手，多年以后，他们依然会这样相依相伴。就算刚发生了不幸，穆斯卡里还是情不自禁地露出了微笑，半开玩笑地向已解除武装的埃萨·蒙塔诺表达着友情。“接下来你准备去哪儿？”穆斯卡里回过头来问他。 “伯明翰，”演员埃萨一边喷云吐雾地吸着烟，一边回答说，“我不是告诉过你，我是未来主义者吗？如果说我有什么信仰的话，那就是那些东西：变化、忙碌和每天早晨起来都有的新事物。我要去曼彻斯特、利物浦、利兹、赫尔、哈德斯菲尔德、格拉斯哥、芝加哥——总之，去开化的、文明的、充满活力的地方！” “总之，”穆斯卡里说，“是去真正的盗贼的乐园吧。”