Chapter 4 flying star

In his venerable later years, Flambold would say: "It was Christmas time, and I had a big fuck. It was the prettiest crime of my life, and it happened to be the last. As an artist, When I commit crimes, I always match them with a specific season and a suitable location. I will choose a terrace or garden as the venue for the disaster. It is like setting up a group sculpture. In this way, the landowners and chaebols will be deceived into long, oak-panelled rooms; on the other hand, under the blinding lights of a luxurious café, the Jew finds himself penniless with astonishment. It's as simple as you think), I'd set up in some English cathedral town with green grass and gray towers. Similarly, in France, if I squeezed a rich but wicked farmer Money (nearly impossible), my favored backdrop would be the gray poplar groves reflected in the sky, and the Gallic plains that Millet's spirit condescends and gazes upon."

"My last crime was at Christmas, against cheerful, comfortable middle-class Englishmen. It was a Charles Dickensian crime in a grand old middle-class house near Putney. There's a crescent driveway and stables. The owner's name is written on the two doors outside the house, and a hozen tree is planted in front of the house. Those descriptions are enough, you know the kind of people. Really, I feel that I have a sense of Charles style The imitation was quite vivid and full of literary flavor. Looking back now, I really regret that I made a confession for the crime that night."

Next, Flambeau will tell the story from what happened inside the house.Even so, the story is still pretty creepy.It is even more difficult to understand from the outside.And the outsider must study it from the outside in.From this point of view, the scene at the beginning of the plot may be like this: It was afternoon, the front door of the house opened, and a girl went out to the garden with hozen trees, bread in her hand, ready to go. feed the birds.She has a beautiful face, beautiful brown eyes; she is wrapped in a brown fur coat, and it is impossible to tell which hair is which is animal fur, and it is even more difficult to guess her figure.If it weren't for her charming face, people would still think of her as a wobbly bear.

At dusk in winter, the sky is bright red, and the ruby-like sunset has already enveloped the deserted flower beds, as if the souls of withered roses have filled the flower beds.On one side of the house is the stable, on the other side is a cloister lined with laurel, leading to the large garden behind the house.After the young lady had spread the bread (she had done it four or five times that day, for most of the bread had been eaten by the dogs), she walked silently through Laurel Lane and into the evergreen garden behind the house, shimmering in the evening light. .She suddenly screamed, not knowing whether it was true or not, she looked up at the towering garden wall, and a strange scene appeared in front of her eyes, a strange figure straddled the wall.

"Oh, don't jump, Mr. Crook," she exclaimed. "Too high." Riding on the boundary wall like a horse in the sky is a tall and thin young man, with black hair standing upright like a brush, with a wise and noble appearance, but his face is sallow, which is in great contrast to his overall image, and this kind of The contrast was made even more apparent by the gaudy red tie, the only thing about him that took so much thought.Maybe that red tie symbolizes something.Regardless of the girl's warning, he still jumped down like a grasshopper and landed beside the girl. This jump was likely to break his legs.

"I think I should have been a thief," he said calmly, "if I hadn't happened to be reincarnated in the nice family next door, no doubt I would have been. Anyway, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. " "How can you say such a thing!" the girl retorted. "Oh," said the young man, "what I'm saying is, if the wrong fetus happens to be born next door, that's not bad, it just gives me a chance to climb over the wall." "I never know what you're going to say or do," said the girl. "I often don't understand it myself, but after a while I find myself standing on the wall."

"So which side of the wall do you want to go to?" the girl asked with a smile. "It doesn't matter which side you are on," said the young man named Crook. Just as they walked across Laurel Lane towards the garden in front of the house, a car horn blew three times, and the sound was getting closer. A delicate and elegant light green car flew in like a bird, and stopped suddenly at the front door. Still vibrating. "Hey, hello!" said the young man in the red tie. "Anyway, here's the right one. Miss Adams, I didn't know your Santa Claus was so trendy."

"Oh, that's my godfather, Sir Leopold Fisher. He always comes on Boxing Day." There was a silence that followed, inadvertently indicating that neither party was interested in talking. "He's very kind," said the girl. John Crook, a journalist, had heard of the City magnate for a long time, but if the magnate had never heard of him, he could not be blamed, for he had appeared in The Horn and The New The Century published several articles critical of Sir Leopold.Crook didn't say anything, just watched them get out of the car coldly, which was really a long process.A large, neatly dressed driver in a green uniform came out first from the front, followed by a short, clean manservant wrapped in a gray coat, who came down from the back.They helped Sir Leopold onto the steps and began to undress him like a carefully guarded package.There were enough blankets on his body to set up a stall in the market, and the fur clothing seemed to include the skins of all animals in the forest. The driver and valet untied his colorful silk scarves one by one, and finally the knight finally appeared in human form.He was a kindly old gentleman, with a foreign face, a gray goatee, a broad smile, and fur-gloved hands rubbed together for warmth.

Long before that, the two doors on the porch had been opened in the middle, and Colonel Adams (the father of the girl in the fur coat) himself came out to greet his distinguished guest.Colonel Adams was tall, dark, and a man of few words.He wore a red smoking cap that looked like an English general or an Egyptian.Standing beside him was his brother-in-law who had just returned from Canada, James Blunt, a tall and stocky country gentleman with a yellow beard.He was also greeted by an inconspicuous figure, the priest of the nearby Roman Catholic Church.The Colonel's late wife was a Catholic, and according to custom, the child followed his mother to Catholicism.This priest is ordinary, nothing special, even his name Brown, is also very ordinary.But the colonel found him so friendly that he was often invited to family gatherings.

The front hall of the house was spacious enough even to accommodate Sir Leopold and the great pile of clothes that had been ripped from him.The corridor of the house is from the front door at one end of the house to the end of the stairs at the other end of the house. Compared with the house, it is very spacious.Before the colonel's sword hung on the fireplace wall of the hall, the colonel introduced the other visitors to Sir Leopold one by one, including the gloomy Crook.The venerable financier rummaged through his close-fitting gown, and finally pulled out a black oval locket from the inner pocket of his tuxedo, which he excitedly declared was for his goddaughter. christmas gift.His vanity was natural and appropriate, and did not arouse everyone's disgust.He showed the locket in front of everyone, and then opened it with a light touch, and a dazzling light radiated from it in an instant, like a crystal fountain shooting into people's eyes.In the orange velvet nest, there are three pure and white diamonds in the shape of bird eggs, emitting a bright light, which seems to ignite the surrounding air.Sir Leopold smiled lovingly, savoring the surprise and ecstasy shown by the girl, the quiet admiration and stiff thanks from the colonel, and the amazement of all present.

"Honey, now I have to put them away," Fisher said, putting the locket back in his pocket. "I kept them carefully all the way here. These three are very precious African diamonds. Because they are often stolen, they are called 'Flying Stars'. All the thieves are playing with them. Even the streets and hotels A savage would love to see them. I might have lost them on the way here, most likely." "If you ask me, it's very natural," said the young man in the red tie angrily. "If they stole it, it's not their fault. They ask you for a piece of bread, and you won't even give them a pebble, so they have to do it themselves." "I won't allow you to say that." The girl exclaimed excitedly, her cheeks flushed. "Only if you're one of those people who talk like that. You know what I mean, what do you call a chimney sweep?" "Saint," said Father Brown. "I think Ruby means socialists," said Sir Leopold with a haughty laugh. "To mention a radical doesn't mean he lives on turnips; to mention a conservative doesn't mean he makes jam. Likewise, I assure you, a socialist doesn't mean he aspires to be the same as a chimney sweep. people. Socialists want all chimneys to be swept and all chimney sweeps to be paid.” "But the socialists don't allow you to have your own ashes," whispered the priest. Crook looked at the priest with interest and even admiration. "Who would want to own their own ashes?" he asked. "There's one kind of person who might want it," replied Brown thoughtfully, "and I've heard gardeners use it. Another time, at Christmas, when the magician wasn't here, I was just playing with six kids." , smeared soot on their faces, and they were so happy." "Oh, that's wonderful," Ruby exclaimed. "I wish you'd put soot on these guys' faces, too." The boisterous Canadian, Blount, applauded and applauded, and the astonished financier yelled his disapproval, when there was a knock at the door and the priest rose to answer it.After the door is opened, the garden in front of the house is displayed in front of people again, with evergreen trees, hozen trees and other flowers and trees dyed in the beautiful purple sunset.The whole picture is so colorful and bizarre, just like the stage background in the play.For a moment, people were so intoxicated that they forgot that there was an unremarkable figure standing by the door.He was dusty and dressed in rags, and he could be seen as an ordinary messenger. "Which is Mr. Blunt?" he asked, holding a letter in front of him hesitantly.Mr. Blunt stopped his loud cheers and came forward.He tore open the envelope in surprise and read the letter.His face was a little gloomy, but he became clear again after a while.He turned to his master, his brother-in-law. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I'm always a disappointment. But an old friend of mine is calling on me tonight on business. I wonder if I'm going to give you trouble? In fact, that old friend That's Florian, that famous French acrobat and comedian. I met him a few years ago in the West (he's half-Franco-Canadian) and he seemed to have something to talk to me about, but I couldn't figure out what it was. " "Of course not, of course not. You can bring any friend, my dear brother. Of course I'd like him to come," replied the colonel indifferently. "If you would allow any friend to come, he'd put black paint on his face. I'm sure he'd hide it from all eyes, no doubt about it. But I don't care, I'm not a refined person, and I like that Jolly old-fashioned pantomime where a man rides on top of his own hat," Blunt laughs. "Please don't ride on my hat," said Sir Leopold gravely. "There, there. Don't be arguing. There are lower jokes than sitting on a hat," Crook said cheerfully. Sir Leopold disliked the young man in the red tie very much, finding him aggressive and too intimate with his pretty goddaughter, and he said, in a tone of supreme irony and authority: "No wonder you know that there are more A lower thing to ride on a hat. What's that? Saying prayers?" "Let's say a hat sits on your head," said the Socialist. "There, there, there," cried the Canadian squire, with a crude kindness. "Don't waste a good evening. Let me tell you, let's do something together tonight. Don't paint your face, don't sit in your hat if you don't like it, but you have to do something interesting. Why not have a proper old I saw a pantomime before I left England when I was 12, and it's been like a bonfire in my head ever since. I only came back to England last year, but Found that this kind of play has long been lost. All that is left are crying fairy tales. I want a pair of red-hot pokers and a policeman who makes sausages, but they show me princesses who preach morals in moonlight, Or something. It's more to my liking, especially when he's an old buffoon, which I love the most." “I’m all for turning the police into a sausage. That fits better than the newest definition of socialism. But, admittedly, this pantomime was time-consuming to pull off,” Crook said. "Not at all," said Blount, a little carried away with excitement, "we can put on a funny show right away. There are two reasons, one, you can improvise and say what comes to mind, and two, everything you need is in the house— —tables, towel rails, sinks, things like that." "Exactly," Crook agreed, nodding eagerly, pacing up and down. "However, it's a pity that the police haven't been killed recently, so I'm afraid I won't be able to get a police uniform." Blount frowned and pondered for a while, then suddenly slapped his hands on his thighs. "No, we can!" he yelled. "I have Florian's address here. He knows every clothing supplier in London. I'll call him and ask him to bring a police uniform when he comes." He ran to the phone. "Oh, that's great, Godfather," cried Ruby, dancing with joy. "I can be the columbine, and you're the old buffoon." The millionaire straightened up, became serious, and said stiffly, "My dear, I think you'll have to find someone else to play the old buffoon." "I can play the old buffoon if you like," said Colonel Adams, taking down his cigar for the first and last time he spoke. "You should put up a statue here," said the Canadian, who had just returned from a phone call, looking radiant. "That way, we're all equipped. Mr. Crook can be the clown, he's a reporter, and knows all the old old jokes. I'll be the clown, a role that just needs a pair of long legs to hop around. I Florian, a friend of mine, called to say that he would bring a police uniform, which he would change on the way. We could use this hall as a stage, with the audience seated on the opposite wide plank staircase, row upon row. The two front doors can be used as stage backgrounds, open or closed. When closed, the stage background is an English interior scene. When open, it is the garden under the moon. It all works like magic." He took a section of chalk out of his pocket and drew a line on the floor between the front door and the stairs to mark the division of the stage. People still don't know how this whimsical banquet was prepared in time.But as long as there is youth in a house, there is recklessness and hard work, and it is with this vigor that they make their preparations sloppily.While not all of them could tell their true selves from their passionate characters, there was youth and energy in the room that night.As ever, the hedonistic crowd has been deeply edified, and the creativity is getting more and more crazy.Aquilegia looked alluring in a beautiful little skirt that was cut like a lampshade in a living room.The clown and the old jester got flour from the kitchen to make themselves white, and rouge from the other servants to make themselves red.The person who gave them the rouge did not want to be named (like true Christian benefactors).The Harlequin is covered in cigar-box tinfoil and manages to avoid smashing the old Victorian chandelier, or he'd be covered in sparkling crystals.In fact, it is very likely that he will end up like this.Later, thanks to Ruby, she finds some vintage pantomime jewelry that she once wore to pretend to be the Jewel Queen at a masquerade.In fact, his uncle James Blount had gone wild with excitement like a child.He unexpectedly put a donkey's head made of paper on Father Brown's head, and Father Brown played with him patiently, and even moved his ears secretly.He also attempted to attach a donkey's tail to Sir Leopold's swallowtail.But was stopped by Jazz frowning. "Uncle is so ridiculous. Why is he so crazy?" Ruby said to Crook, placing a string of sausages on his shoulder solemnly. "He's a sidekick to your columbine. I'm just a clown telling old jokes," Crook said. "If only you were a buffoon," Ruby said, walking away, the string of sausage still dangling from Crook's shoulder. Father Brown knew all about the behind-the-scenes preparations and even helped turn a pillow into a baby in the show, much to the cheers of everyone.He went around to the front and sat in the middle of the auditorium, full of anticipation and seriousness, like a child watching an afternoon show at the theater for the first time.There are not many spectators, that is, some relatives, one or two local friends, and three or two servants.Sir Leopold sat in the front row, his full fur collar blocking the view of the priest sitting next to him, but how much the priest missed, no one knew.The pantomime, while not exactly cheesy, was a total mess.Everyone is improvising, especially Mr. Crook's Joker.He was originally a smart young man, and tonight he was inspired by a kind of power, which made him know everything, and suddenly became the smartest wise man in the world.Whenever he saw a face, he immediately associated it with an expression.He's supposed to be the clown, but in reality, it looks like he's got all the roles, author (if all), prompter, set artist, set changer, and, most importantly, the orchestra.During the sudden lulls in this absurd performance, he would dash over to the piano in costume and scurry out a few popular tunes, weird but perfect background music for the absurd pantomime. The two front doors as the background of the stage were opened, and the pantomime reached its climax at this moment, showing the beautiful garden under the moon in front of people, and the arrival of the famous comedian Florian caused a sensation even more. A policeman stood at the door seriously.The clown at the piano played the police song in "The Pirates of Penzance" at the right time, but the sound of the piano was drowned out by the deafening applause and cheers. I chose a policeman, and his imitation was really lifelike and just right.The Canadian squire playing the buffoon pounced on him and tapped his helmet, while Mr. Crook the buffoon was singing "Where did you get that hat?" ’, he looked at Florian with feigned astonishment and admiration, and then the bouncing clown tapped Florian’s hat again (Crook played a few verses of “So We Got Another Hat").Immediately afterwards, the clown rushed to the policeman and pinned him to the ground, and there was thunderous applause from the audience.Then the police fell to the ground, and the famous imitation show of the dead began. People's realistic imitation of the dead made the city of Putney famous to this day.I really can't believe that a living person can imitate so realistically. The strong and agile clown, accompanied by crazy and absurd piano music, swings the policeman like a sack, twists and turns or throws him in the air like a gymnastics bottle bar, all the movements are matched with madness. piano piece.When the clown held up the comedian playing the policeman, the clown on the side blasted "I Came From Your Dreams."As he yanks the policeman onto his back, he goes off on "Knapsack on Shoulder" again.Finally, as he slams the policeman to the ground, the frenzied tune breaks into a crisp jingle to the lyrics, something along the lines of "I sent a letter to my love and I lost it on the way." At this moment of extreme confusion and absurdity, Father Brown's view was completely blocked, because Sir Leopold, who sat in front of him, stood up, and suddenly reached into his pockets, fumbling around, and rummaged through all the pockets.After a while, he sat down nervously again, still groping in his pockets, and then stood up again.For a moment he looked as if he was about to stride onto the stage, then he shot a glare at the clown who was playing the piano, and rushed out of the room without a word. The amateur performed the absurd yet graceful dance, and the priest, seated behind Sir Leopold, watched it for only a few minutes.The clown's dance was real but crude, and he danced farther and farther back, until at last he danced out of the gate and into the moonlit, silent garden.His body was covered with tinfoil, which was already dazzling enough under the illumination of the stage lights, but when he danced under the bright moonlight, it was even more silvery and ethereal.The audience gathered round and applauded, when suddenly Father Brown was touched on the arm by someone who whispered an invitation to the Colonel's study. He followed the messenger to the study room, his doubts gradually increased, and the solemn but funny scene in the study room deepened his doubts.In the study sits Colonel Adams, still dressed as an old clown, the whalebone above his eyebrows is constantly moving up and down, but his sad eyes are enough to calm down those revelers at the Saturnalia.Sir Leopold leaned against the fireplace wall, looking bewildered. "It is a sad thing, Father Brown," said Adams, "that the diamonds we saw this afternoon seem to have disappeared from the pockets of my friend's tailcoat. Since you—" "Since I—" said Father Brown, grinning, "sit right behind him—" "No other meaning." Colonel Adams said, and looked at Fisher firmly, but this was enough to show that they really had such thoughts. "I just want you to do a little favor, as long as you are a gentleman, you will agree." "Just opening his pockets," said Father Brown, and he emptied his pockets: six or sevenpence, a return ticket, a silver cross, a daily prayer book, and a bar of chocolates. The colonel looked at the priest for a while, then said, "You know, I want to know what's in your head more than what's in your pocket. I know, my daughter is one of you, and she Lately—" He stopped at this. "Recently," exclaimed Fisher senior, "she opened his father's house for the visit of a murderous socialist who had openly declared that he would steal from anyone rich. And this Stealing the flying star is the end result. Here's a rich man—and the richest rich man." "If you want what's in my head, take it," said Father Brown helplessly. "You might as well say what it's worth after you've read it. But one thing I found out from that empty pocket is that people who would steal gems would never embrace socialism. They'd be more likely," said Father Brown earnestly. Added bluntly, "Spitting on socialism." Hearing this, the other two suddenly changed their colors, and Father Brown continued: "You know, we kind of know people like this. A socialist would rather steal a pyramid than a diamond. We should turn to people we don't know very well. Like the guy playing the policeman—Ver Lorien. I should like to know where he is at the moment." The old clown immediately jumped up and strode out of the room.After that, there was silence in the study.The millionaire stares at the priest, who is absorbed in his daily prayer book.After a while, the old clown returned to the room with a serious face, and said intermittently: "The policeman is still lying on the stage. The curtain has been raised and lowered six times, and he is still lying there motionless." Father Brown put down his book and stood up, staring at him expressionlessly, lost in thought.Slowly, a gleam of light appeared in the gray eyes, only to hear him answer vaguely. "Forgive me, Colonel. When did your wife die?" "My wife!" replied the soldier, staring. "The one who passed away this year was just two months ago. His brother James just arrived a week ago. It's too late." The little priest suddenly jumped up like a rabbit. "Come on!" he cried, looking uncharacteristically excited. "Come on! Let's go and see that policeman!" The party rushed to the closed stage, rudely pushing away the columbine and the clown (who seemed to be whispering contentedly), and Father Brown squatted beside the prostrate comic cop. "It's chloroform," he said, standing up. "I just thought of it." People were stunned, and after a while, the colonel said slowly, "Please explain carefully what this means." Father Brown burst out laughing, then stopped, and tried to keep from laughing now and then throughout the rest of his speech. "Gentlemen," he said breathlessly, "I don't have time to tell you. I'm going after the criminal. But this great French actor pretending to be a policeman—the one who waltzes with the buffoon, who gets thrown around The smart cop—he's—" Father Brown's voice choked again, and he turned and ran. "He is?" Fisher asked loudly curiously. "A real policeman," said Father Brown, and ran into the darkness. At the end of the lush gardens there were hollows of dank places, full of laurel and evergreen shrubs, against a blue sky and a bright moon.Even at the winter solstice, these shrubs are as green as the trees in the south.The emerald green laurel swaying in the wind, the rich purple blue in the night, and the crystal-like full moon paint an irresistible romantic picture.But in the branches at the top of the trees in the garden, there is a strange figure crawling, which does not seem romantic at all.His whole body shone brightly, as if wearing countless moons.The moonlight followed him, and with his every movement, different parts of his body shone like silver light as if they were being ignited.With a light leap, he successfully jumped from a short tree in this garden to a tall and dense tree in another garden.Suddenly he stopped still.Because a figure slid under the short tree and called out his name accurately. "Why, Flambeau," said the voice, "you are a flying star; but a flying star means only a shooting star after all." The silvery figure on the laurel tree seemed to lean forward, convinced of its escape, and began to listen to the little figure below. "Flumbo, you've never been better. You came from Canada a week after Mrs. Addams died, which is very clever, because no one is in the mood to ask about you. You are also very clever, knowing that Make note of when the Flying Star and Fischer arrive. But nothing after that is clever, purely because you are gifted. Stealing the Flying Star, I think, will be a piece of cake for you. Except by pretending to The paper donkey's tail is attached to Fisher's swallowtail, and with your skillful technique, you can get the flying star in hundreds of ways. But if you use other methods, you won't be able to do much." The silvery figure in the green leaves remained motionless as if hypnotized. Although he could easily escape from behind, he was staring at the people under the tree. "Oh, yes," said the man under the tree, "I know all about the whole thing. I know you're not only recommending pantomime, but you're doing two things. You're trying to steal the diamonds without anyone noticing it. Word came from your accomplice that you were under suspicion and that a good constable was coming that night to arrest you. An ordinary thief would be grateful and run away, but you are a poet. You already have a clever Brilliant idea, to hide the jewels in your glittering fake jewels. You know, if you put on a clown costume, the police would be perfect. The respected police officer from Par The Turney Police Department set out to arrest you and fell into the most ingenious and outlandish trap in the world. Two front doors opened and he walked straight to the stage of the Christmas pantomime where he was about to be kicked and beaten by dancing clowns , drugged in amazement, and deafening laughter from the luminaries of Putney. Oh, this should be your last masterpiece. Now, by the way, it's time for you to return those diamonds." The shining figure jumped onto another branch, and the green branch rustled immediately, but the voice continued: "Flumbo, I want you to return it to its rightful owner and give up this life. You're young and self-respecting and good-humored, don't imagine it's going to last that way. One may retain a measure of goodness , but no one can promise not to continue down the abyss of evil. That road is a bottomless pit, and you will only sink deeper and deeper. Good people drink and become cruel, honest people kill and start lying. I know many People, they started out just like you, an outspoken gangster, a jolly robber who robbed riches, and ended up getting stuck in a quagmire. Maurice Bloom started out as a principled anarchist, a The father of a poor family turned out to be a cunning and treacherous spy, a tattletale, used by both sides and despised by both sides. Harry Burke, who started out with uncommon sincerity in his campaign for free money, now relies on his sister to give He provided brandy and soda endlessly, but his sister couldn't get enough herself. Lord Amber, knighted into this savage society, is now being blackmailed by the worst exploiters in London. Captain Barilon was in A fine gentleman before you died in a lunatic asylum screaming in terror 'The traitor!' and a bankrupt beneficiary, the very two who betrayed him and made him persecuted. Flambeau , I know that the woods behind you are a free world for you, and I know that you can slip away like a monkey. But one day you will become a lifeless old monkey. You will sit Despondent and dying in the free forest, when the treetops are bare." Everything was going on, as if the person under the tree tied the other person to the tree with an invisible rope.The man under the tree continued: "You have taken a depraved step. You used to boast that you had never done anything vile, but tonight you are doing one. Your conduct puts an honest boy under suspicion, And he's been blamed on many sides. You're tearing him apart from that girl, who loves each other so much. If you keep going, you'll do meaner things before you die." At this time, three dazzling diamonds fell from the tree to the grass.The little man stooped to pick them up, but when he looked up again, the green cage surrounded by branches was empty, and the silver bird had already flown away. The lost gem was found (of all people, Father Brown was lucky enough to find it by accident), and the night ended with a lot of belly laughs.Sir Leopold actually showed his sense of humor. He told Father Brown that although he himself had different views, he respected those who, because of their faith, kept aloof from the world and transcended the world.

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