Chapter 3 a whole dozen

I love Elsanne this place.This is a seaside resort in the south of England, not too far from Brighton.This cozy town has a charming late Georgian style.But the town is neither bustling nor overly fancy.I used to go there a lot ten years ago.At that time, some ancient buildings could still be seen scattered throughout the town.The old houses are solidly constructed and showy in appearance, but not offensive.This style of architecture is like a lady whose family has been ruined.She is of noble birth, very proud of her ancestry, and is always careful to mention her lineage to you.Such a woman will never make you feel offended, but you will find her very interesting.These houses were built during the reign of "England's First Gentleman".It is very likely that an important court official with poor official fortune died here.There's a laid-back vibe to the town's main street, and the doctor's car seems like a misplaced object.Housewives are leisurely purchasing food for their families on the street.Some people chatted with the butcher while watching him cut a piece of meat from the best part of the neck of a Nantang sheep; He put the salt in it, and greeted his wife kindly.I don't know if this place in Elsham was ever fashionable, but it certainly wasn't.But this place deserves respect and the prices are low.Many elderly women, leftover women and widows choose to live here.There are also many Indian civilians and veterans here, who look forward to the arrival of August and September every year with a little anxiety.To say this is not to disparage them, because every season, there will be a large number of holidaymakers flocking here, and they can rent out their houses to these tourists.Visitors can spend weeks at leisure in these Swiss-style pensions.I never come to Ersan during such a hectic season.All accommodation places will be full at this time.Lads in loose sportswear hang out along the promenade, and Piero the Clown puts on a show by the sea.At the Dolphin's the sound of balls being struck in the billiard-room continued until eleven o'clock at night.I only come to Ershan in winter.There are plenty of vacant rental properties this season.Rows of houses along the seashore were built more than a hundred years ago. The facades of these houses are brushed and all have bay windows.At this time, most of these houses have signs that they can rent out.In this season, there is only one waiter and a few servants to receive the guests staying at the Dolphin Hotel.At ten o'clock in the evening, the concierge will come to the smoking room and look at you clearly to drive you out.You can only stand up and go back and forth to the house to sleep.But Elsanne in winter is very peaceful.Dolphin is also a very comfortable hotel to live in.It will make the guests feel happy to think that the prince who is already regent and Mrs. Fitzherbert have come to the coffee shop of this hotel many times in a carriage to drink tea.On the wall of the hotel reception hall, there is a letter inlaid with a mirror frame.The letter, from the eminent Mr. Thackeray, was to reserve a room overlooking the sea, with a drawing-room and two bedrooms, and to send a cab to meet him at the station.

In November, about two or three years after the war, I caught a flu.In order to recuperate, I came to Ershan.I arrived in town in the afternoon.After putting away my luggage, I went to the beach for a walk.The sky was overcast this afternoon and the sea was still.The sea was gray and the air was cold.A few seagulls were flying on the sea next to the beach.Since it was winter, the masts of the sailboats were down, and they were dragged onto the pebbly beach.The dark and dilapidated changing sheds are lined up next to each other.The town's management department has placed many benches on both sides of the seaside avenue, but these benches are now empty.Several people were struggling to walk on the seashore, some of them were going in the same direction as me, and some of them were coming towards me.These people are exercising.A colonel with a red nose plods past me.He was wearing baggy sweatpants, and he was followed by a native army soldier, two elderly women, and a plain girl.The two old women wore short skirts and sturdy shoes, and the girl wore a bowler hat.I had never seen this seashore so deserted before.The rows of rental houses looked like slovenly spinsters waiting for lovers who would never show up.Even the homely Hotel Dolphin looked pale and forlorn now.My mood also became gloomy.Life suddenly becomes very mediocre.I went back to the hotel, drew the curtains on my living room window, flicked the fire in the fireplace, and picked up a book to distract myself from my worries.It's almost time for dinner and I'm really happy.I got dressed and walked into the cafe to find that other hotel guests had already arrived one step ahead.I glanced casually, and saw a middle-aged lady sitting alone; two old gentlemen who probably played golf, had rosy faces and were a little bald, were eating sullenly.The remaining guests in the room were the three sitting by the bay window.They aroused my immediate and sudden interest.Among the three were an old gentleman and two ladies.One of the older women may have been his wife, and the younger one may have been his daughter.And it was this older lady who intrigued me in the first place.She wore a loose black silk coat and a black lace hat.On her wrists were heavy gold bracelets, and around her neck hung a large gold necklace with a large locket.She also had a large gold brooch pinned to her collar.I don't know of anyone else who still wears jewelry like this today.It used to be only used by second-hand jewelry dealers and pawnbrokers.My eyes linger a moment longer on these weird old-fashioned trinkets.These jewelry pieces are very strong, expensive, and look very ugly.I smiled a little sadly, thinking that the women who wore such jewelry have been dead for years.Looking at these jewels, you can't help but think of the era when women wore panniers and skirts with ruffles, which have now been replaced by petticoats and round hats.Brits of that era liked solid and valuable things.At that time, they would go to church every Sunday morning and then go for a walk in the park.At that time, when they invited guests to dinner, they must serve twelve dishes, and the host had to cut the beef and chicken himself.After the meal, the lady who can play the piano will definitely play Mendelssohn's "Songs Without Words" to cheer up the companions.A man with a fine baritone voice is sure to sing an old English folk song too.

The young lady was sitting with her back to me, so all I could see was her slender, youthful back.She has thick brown hair that appears to be combed carefully.She is wearing a gray dress.The three of them were whispering something.Then the young lady turned her head so I could see the profile of her face.She is astonishingly beautiful.The bridge of her nose is beautiful and straight, and the profile of her cheeks is very graceful, like an elegant statue.Only then did I see that she was wearing Queen Alexander's hairstyle.These few people finished eating, they stood up and wanted to leave.The old woman walked out of the restaurant gracefully without looking sideways.The young lady followed behind her.I was surprised to find that she was not really young anymore.Her dresses were very simple, and the skirts looked a bit old-fashioned, much longer than the fashion of the day.I guess this style of skirt can show the waist line more.But it's the kind of skirt that girls wear.She was tall and slightly slender, like a Tennyson heroine, and she walked gracefully.I had noticed her nose before, and now it seemed to me that it was the nose of a Greek goddess.Her mouth is also beautiful, and her eyes are blue and big.The skin on her face was not slack at all, but there were wrinkles on her forehead and the corners of her eyes.But this face must have been very lovely when it was young.She reminds you of those elegant ladies of Roman times, such figures are often seen in Alma-Tadema's paintings.Although the ladies in the paintings are dressed in Roman costumes, it is difficult to erase their British temperament.I haven't seen this type of cold beauty for twenty-five years.Like the satirical verse, the style is now dead.Like an archaeologist who stumbles across some ancient statues, I am thrilled to see unexpected relics from a bygone age.Because these days are too dull.After the two ladies left, the old gentleman also stood up, but sat down again after a while.The waiter brought him a glass of full-bodied port wine.He sniffed, took a sip, and carefully tasted it with his tongue.I watch him carefully.He was short, much shorter than his impressive wife; he was slightly stout but not obese, and his hair was gray and curly.His face is wrinkled and has a slightly humorous expression.His lips were pursed tightly, and his jaw was square.Judging from our current perspective, his clothes are a bit extravagant.He was wearing a black velvet jacket and a trimmed shirt.The shirt had a low neckline and a large black tie.He wore a pair of evening dress trousers so baggy that you had the vague impression that they were a costume.After slowly drinking the wine in the glass, the old gentleman stood up and walked out of the restaurant slowly.

When I passed the reception hall, I suddenly became curious about these guests and wanted to know their names.I glanced at the check-in book and saw that it was registered in a woman's handwriting, with sharp edges and corners.This script was a popular typeface taught in schools forty years ago.The names registered above are: Mr. and Mrs. Edwin St. Clair and Miss Porchester.The registered address is: 68 Leinster Square, Baywater, London.This must be the name of these three people.But this address amuses me very much.I asked the manager of the hotel if he knew what Mr. St. Clair did.She told me he probably worked at London Guildhall.I went into the pool room and played a little pool, then walked upstairs through the lounge.The two red-faced gentlemen were reading the evening papers in the lounge.The old lady was dozing off with a novel in her hands.And those three people sat in a corner.Mrs. St. Clair was knitting, Miss Porchester was embroidering, and Mr. St. Clair was whispering a book in a sonorous voice.I saw him reading Bleak House as I walked by.

Most of my second day was spent reading and writing.But in the afternoon I went out for a walk.On the way back to the hotel, I sat for a while on a bench on the waterfront.The weather is not as cold as yesterday, and the surrounding scenery makes people feel comfortable.While I was doing nothing, I saw a person walking towards me from a distance.As the man approached I saw that he was a little man in rags.He was wearing a thin black overcoat and a battered fedora.His hands were in his pockets, and he looked cold.He looked at me as he walked past me, and after taking a few steps forward, he hesitated for a moment, then stopped and turned around.When he came back to me, he took a hand from his pocket and touched the hat.I noticed he was wearing a pair of battered black gloves and guessed he was probably a financially struggling widower.Either he's dumb, like me, and he's just had a flu that he hasn't recovered from yet.

"Excuse me, sir," said he, "can I borrow a match?" "certainly." He sat down beside me.When I reached into my pocket for a match, he also reached into his pocket for a cigarette.He took out a small cigarette case of Golden Luo brand cigarettes, and his face sank. "My God, my God, what the hell! It's such a nuisance that the box is empty." "Pick mine." I said with a smile. I pulled out my cigarette case and he took one from it. "Gold?" he asked, tapping the case as I closed it. "I can't keep the gold ones. I've had three, but they've all been stolen. "

He looked sadly at his shoes.These shoes are really in need of repair.He was a shriveled little man with a long thin nose and pale blue eyes.His skin was sallow and his face was lined with wrinkles.I can't guess how old he is.He may be only thirty-five, or he may be sixty.There was nothing unusual about him except that you felt he was an insignificant man.But apart from the fact that he was poor, he was neat and clean.He is a decent man, and he wants others to respect him.Now I don't think he's a mute, I think he's a junior lawyer's employee.He had recently lost his wife and had been sent by his caring boss to Ershan on vacation so he could recover from the blow.

"Are you going to be here long, sir?" he asked. "Ten days to two weeks." "I know this place very well, sir. There's hardly a seaside resort I haven't been to, to say the least. But there's no place like Elsanne's. The people here are nice, they're gentle, and never Noisy. I have very pleasant memories of Elsanne. I have known Elsanne's place for a long time. I was married in St. Martin's Church." "Really?" I replied casually. "I was very happy when I was married." "I'm glad to know that," I replied.

"This marriage of mine lasted nine months," he mused. He talked about little personal things.I had no interest in hearing this, but I could clearly see that he would be very pleased if I could hear about his marriage.Although I have no interest, I still have at least a little curiosity.So I waited for him to continue.But he didn't say anything, just sighed softly.Finally I broke the silence. "There don't seem to be many tourists here now," I said. "I like that. I'm a clean person. As I said, I've spent a lot of time in many seaside resorts, but I never go to them during the tourist season. I like the winter here."

"Don't you think there is a sad atmosphere here in winter?" He turned to me and put his gloved hand on my arm. "It does feel sad here. Because of the sad feeling here, it would be nice to have a little sunshine." This sounded very silly to me, so I didn't answer.He took his hands off me and stood up. "Sir, I can't stay with you any longer. It's a pleasure to meet you." He took off the dark black hat very politely, nodded and left.The air is getting colder, and I think it's time for me to go back to the Dolphin Hotel, too.When I reached the broad steps of the hotel, a covered four-wheeled carriage drove up.The cart was pulled by two skinny horses.Getting out of the car was Mr. St. Clair.He wears a hat on his head.The hat seemed to be the product of a discordant combination of a fedora and a top hat.He held out his hand first to his wife, then to his niece, and helped the two ladies out of the carriage.The doorman followed them and brought in cushions and floor mats.While Mr. St. Clair was paying the driver, I heard him say to the driver that he would be here tomorrow at the appointed time.I understand that Mr. St. Clair goes out in his four-wheeler every afternoon.I'm afraid I wouldn't be surprised to learn that none of the three had ever been in a car.

The hotel manager told me that the three were solitary and did not want to get acquainted with the other guests staying at the hotel.My imagination began to run free again.I saw their three meals a day, and I saw Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair sitting on the top of the steps outside the hotel gate in the morning.Mr. St. Clair was always reading The Times, and his wife was always knitting.I guess Mrs. St. Clair never read a newspaper in her life.For they never carry any books and newspapers in their hands except The Times.Mr. St. Clair, of course, carried the Times with him every day when he went into town.Miss Porchester saw them both about twelve o'clock. "How was your walk today, Eleanor?" asked Lady St. Clair. "Very well, Aunt Gertrude," replied Miss Eleanor. And so I learned that Miss Porchester went for a walk every morning, just as Mrs. St. Clair went for a drive every afternoon in her "car". "When you've finished your trade, my dear," said St. Clair, after glancing at his wife's knitting, "we'd better go for a walk before lunch, too. It'll be healthy." "That's very good," replied Mrs. St. Clair.She folded the knitting in her hands and handed it to Miss Porchester. "If you go upstairs, Eleanor, can you take my weaving up?" "That's all right, Aunt Gertrude." "I see you are a little tired from your walk, dear." "I'll take a break before lunch." Miss Porchester entered the hotel, and the St. Clairs walked slowly side by side along the Promenade.They went to a fixed place, and then wandered back. When I meet him (or her) on the stairs, I bow slightly, and he (or she) bows without any expression in answer; when I meet him (or her) in the morning, I venture to say good morning, but the other party He just bowed slightly and didn't answer.It seemed impossible for me to get a chance to speak to any of them.But lately I've had the feeling that Mr. St. Clair is throwing me a glance now and then.I thought he might have heard my name.I conceited that he looked at me probably because he had a sense of curiosity about me.A day or two later, I was sitting in my room when the porter came in with a message. "Mr. St. Clair asked me to convey his respect to you, and to ask if you could borrow him a copy of the Whitaker Almanac?" I was taken aback. "How does he think I must have the Whitaker Almanac?" "Oh, sir, the manager told him you were a writer." I can't understand what is the connection between these two. "Go and tell Mr. St. Clair I don't have the Whittaker's Almanac with me at the moment, and I'm very sorry. If I had one, I'd be more than happy to lend it to him." My luck has come.Now I am obsessed with learning more about these eccentric beings.Over the years I have traveled frequently in the heart of Asia, and from time to time I can meet some lonely tribes and live for a few days in the small villages of these complete strangers.No one knows how they got here or why they settled here.They have their own way of life, speak their own language, and are completely disconnected from the surrounding tribes.No one knew whether they were descendants of the Mongols who swept across Eurasia, and no one knew whether their ancestors were the great man who was once the emperor of this country.They are mysterious people.They have neither future nor history.In my opinion, this weird little family has many similarities with those tribal people.They belonged to a past that was gone.They reminded me of characters in novels our fathers only read.The style of these old-fashioned novels is very unhurried.They belonged to the 1880s, and have never been out of that era since.They can actually live like this for forty years, as if the world has stopped, which is too unusual.They brought me back to childhood memories of people who had long since died.I don't know if it was their reluctance to associate with other people that gave me the feeling that they were special, different from anyone else today.In the past, if a person was called a "weird" by others, for God's sake, this person was really a great person. So, after supper that day, I went into the drawing-room, and ventured to say to Mr. St. Clair: "Sir, I am very sorry that I did not lend you the Whitaker Almanac. But I have some other books which I should be more than happy to lend you if you would like them." Mr. St. Clair was evidently taken aback.The other two women continued with what they were doing without looking aside.The room was embarrassingly silent. "That's all right. The hotel manager told me you're a fiction writer." I racked my brains and couldn't figure it out, but apparently there must be some connection between my profession and the Whitaker Almanac. "We used to invite Mr. Trollup to dinner at our home in Leinster Square. I remember him saying that there are two books that are most useful to a novelist. One is the Bible and one It's the Whitaker Almanac." "I know Thackeray stayed at this hotel." I didn't know what to say to keep the conversation going. "I was never much of a fan of Thackeray. He had dinner with my late father-in-law Sagittarius Saunders several times. I thought his writing was too cynical. My niece still hasn't read it The Vanity Fair book." Miss Porchester flushed slightly at the mention of her.A waiter brought in the coffee, and Mrs. St. Clair said to her husband, "Perhaps, my dear, this gentleman will do me the favor of having a cup of coffee with us." Although this was not said to me directly, I hurriedly replied: "Thank you very much." I sit down. "Trollup is my favorite novelist," said Mr. St. Clair, "and a thorough gentleman. I admire Charles Dickens, too, but Charles Dickens' novels do not appeal to a gentleman. I know the present Young people find Trolup's novels dull. My niece, Miss Porchester, is partial to William Blake." "I don't think I've ever read him," I said. "Oh, I see you're a bit like me, and you're a bit out of date. My niece persuaded me to read a Rhoda Broughton novel, but I couldn't read anything after a hundred pages .” "I didn't say I liked that book, Uncle Edwin," defended Miss Porchester, blushing again, "what I'm telling you is that the pace of the book is a little fast, but all People are talking about the book." "I'm sure your Aunt Gertrude wouldn't let you read such books, Eleanor." "I remember Miss Broughton saying to me that when she was young people said her novels were too fast-paced; Been writing fiction in the same style for forty years." "Oh, you know Miss Broughton?" asked Miss Porchester, speaking to me for the first time. "This is very interesting. Do you know Vida too?" "Eleanor, what are you talking about! I don't believe you have read any of Veda's novels." "Of course I have, Uncle Edwin. I have read 'Under Two Flags' by her, and I like it very much." "You shocked me so much. I don't know what girls are going to be these days." "You keep saying that when I'm over thirty, you can let me read any book I want." "My dear Elinor, there is a difference between liberty and permission," said Mr. St. Clair, smiling slightly to soften his reproach.But the tone is still serious. I don't know if my impressions of the time have been conveyed to you clearly by narrating this conversation.I felt that the house was filled with the charming atmosphere of a bygone era.I wish I could have listened to them all evening, listening to them talk about the depraved 1880s, when they were all young.I wish there was some way of getting them to agree to let me go and see them at their Leinster Square home, and give me a glimpse of the spacious house where they lived.I should recognize the prim furniture that must have been in the drawing room, each piece in its place and covered with tapestry.The array of Dresden porcelain in the display case will definitely take me back to my childhood.Since the living room is only used for formal gatherings, people are generally used to sitting in the dining room.The dining room is covered with Turkish rugs, and the surrounding mahogany kitchen cabinets are filled with silver flatware.The walls of the dining room were sure to be hung with the paintings that had thrilled Mrs. Ward Humphrey and her Uncle Matthew. I met Miss Porchester the next morning as I was walking along a pretty solitary lane in Elsanne.She is doing her daily walking exercise.I was going to walk with her for a while.But on second thought, even a walk with a man my age would surely embarrass the fifties spinster.She bowed slightly as I passed her, blushing again.Oddly enough, just a few yards behind her, I came across the ridiculously small man again.He was still in rags, with black gloves on.I had a few words with him on the seaside road.He touched his battered fedora with his hand. "Excuse me, sir, can I use a match?" "Of course," I said, a little wryly, "but I might not have a cigarette this time." "Then you have one of mine," he said, taking out his cigarette case.But it was empty inside. "My God, my God, I forgot to bring cigarettes again. What a coincidence." I keep going.But I felt he quickened his pace a little.I'm starting to doubt him a little bit.I wonder if he will harass Miss Porchester.For a moment I wanted to turn back, but I didn't.He's a civilized little man, and I don't think he'd do that to harass a lone lady. I saw him again that afternoon.I was sitting on the seaside road at that time, and he walked towards me slowly and hesitantly.There seemed to be a gust of wind, and he was blown forward like a dry leaf.This time he didn't hesitate and sat down next to me. "We meet again, sir. It's a small world. If I don't inconvenience you, can I sit here for a few minutes? I'm a little tired." "This is a public bench, and you have as much right to sit here as I do." I didn't wait for him to ask me for a match, but immediately handed him a cigarette. "You are very kind, sir! I have to control my daily smoking, but smoking is one of my great pleasures. As one grows older, life has less joy. But my own experience tells me that a People will pay more and more attention to these few pleasures.” "It's an idea to comfort myself." "I'm sorry, sir, but I thought you were a famous writer. Am I right?" "I'm a writer," I replied, "but how do you know?" "I've seen your portrait in the illustrations of books. I guess you didn't recognize me." I glanced at him again, he was a thin and small man, neatly dressed, but his black coat was a bit worn out.He has a long nose and a pair of pale blue eyes. "I don't think I know you." "I seem to have changed," he sighed. "There was a time when my picture was published in all the newspapers in England. Of course, the printed picture is not very clear. No wonder you didn't recognize me. I dare To say it responsibly, sir, some of the photographs are too blurry. If I hadn't seen my name underneath them, I wouldn't even have guessed that it was me." He was silent for a while.The sea is ebbing now, and the pebble beach on the coast is covered with yellow mud, and the breakwater half-hidden in the yellow mud looks like the backbone of a prehistoric monster. "It must be very interesting to be a writer, sir. I have often thought that if I could write about my experience, it would be a shock. I have read a lot in the past, but I have read less recently. Mainly Due to the loss of eyesight. I believe that if I try, I too can write a book." "They say anyone can write a book," I replied. "I don't want to write a novel. I am not suitable for writing a novel. I would rather write some history books. If someone is willing to pay for the manuscript, I would like to write a memoir of myself." "It's very fashionable to write memoirs now." "There are very few people who, by any measure, have had the same experience as I have. I wrote to a "Sunday Daily" not long ago with the suggestion, but they did not reply to me." He looked at me for a long time.His demeanor was dignified, and he didn't seem to ask me for some change. "You still don't know who I am, do you, sir?" "I really don't know." He seemed to consider it a little longer, then took off his black gloves and stared at a hole in them for a moment.Then he turned to me without self-consciousness and said, "I am the famous Mortimer Ellis." "Oh?" I really don't know what to say.I'm convinced I've never heard the name before.I saw a look of disappointment on his face, and I was a little embarrassed. "Mortimer Ellis," he repeated the name, "you're not going to tell me you've never heard the name?" "I'm afraid that's all I can say. I go abroad a lot, and I don't spend much time at home." I can't help but think, what is he famous for?All possibilities were overturned by me one by one.Although sports can make a person famous in the UK, his size is not the material for an athlete.He might be a faith healer, or a pool champion.Of course he couldn't be a former cabinet minister, or I wouldn't know him.He may have been chairman of a defunct committee of the British Trade Office, but he was by no means a statesman. "You should know the name," he said, rather complainingly, "for weeks I was the most talked about person in all of England. Look at me again. You must have seen my picture in the papers. The one called Mortimer Ellis' men." "Sorry, I still can't remember." I shook my head. He paused for a moment to give more effect to what he was about to say. "I am the famous bigamist." How would you respond when a total stranger told you that he was a famous bigamist?Frankly, I consider myself a generally speaking person and feel somewhat vain about it.But now I find myself tongue-tied. "I've had eleven wives, sir," he went on. "Most people can get by with one wife." "Oh, it takes practice. When you've had eleven wives, you know everything about women." "Then why did you only marry eleven?" "I knew you would ask that question. The first time I saw you, I said to myself, this man has an intelligent face. I myself am puzzled by this, sir. 11 Seems like a Ridiculous number, isn't it? Seems like there's something left unfinished. Now everyone loves the number 3, 7 isn't bad, 9 is said to be auspicious, and 10 is fine. But how did I stop at 11? That's where I regret it. If I could get that number up to a dozen, I'd have nothing else to ask for in my life." He unbuttoned his coat and took out a crumpled, greasy notebook from an inside pocket.From this notebook he took out a large bag of newspaper clippings.The clippings were tattered, covered with oil and dirt.He unfolded two or three of them. "Now look at these pictures. I ask you, do these pictures look like me? It is infuriating. If you look at these pictures alone, you will think that I am a criminal." Judging from the size of these clippings, relevant reports occupy a large space.It seemed that Mortimer Ellis was indeed newsworthy in the eyes of the copyeditors.The headline of one of the reports was: A man with multiple wives.Another report was headlined: Heartless villains punished.The headline of the third report reads: Dreadful villains meet Waterloo. "The evaluation of you in the newspaper is not very good." I whispered. "I never cared what was said in the paper," he shrugged his thin shoulders. "I've known all about these reporters since then. No, it was the judge I hated. His ruling against me was appalling." .But evil comes around. I tell you, he died less than a year after that ruling was made." I quickly glanced at the newspaper in my hand. “报道中说他判了你五年的监禁。” “我称这是一项可耻的判决。看报纸上是怎么说的。”他用食指指着一处地方，“'其中三个受害者请求法官宽恕他。'这说明了她们对我的态度。而在这之后，这个法官还是判了我五年监禁。看他怎么称呼我的，'一个没有心肝的恶棍'。而我可以说是一个最有情有义的男人了。接着看，'一条社会害虫，对公众造成了危害'。他还说如果他有权力这样做的话，一定要判得更重。虽说他判了我五年，但我还没有非常仇恨他。就是非常仇恨他也不过分。我问你，他这样说我对吗？不，他是大错特错了。我永远也不会宽恕他，即使我活到一百岁也不会。” 这个重婚者的脸颊涨得通红，他的双眼此刻充满了怒火。这是一个触到了他痛处的话题。 “我可以读一读这些报吗？”我问他。 “我拿出来就是要让您读的。我是真心想让您读，先生。如果您读了后没有说我是一个大混蛋，那么就算是我没看错人。” 我读过一篇篇剪报后，知道莫蒂默·埃利斯对英国的海滨胜地真的是非常熟悉。这些地方是他的狩猎场。他的做法是到某个旅游热季已过的海滨胜地去，在一栋客人很少的出租公寓内租一套房。他很快就会与一些女人熟悉起来。这些女人可能是寡妇，也可能是老处女。我注意到她们当时的年龄都在三十五到五十岁之间。她们在证人席上做证时说，她们都是在海滨大道上第一次遇见他的。他通常会在两个星期内向她们求婚。然后很快就结婚了。他引诱她们的方法不一，但都把她们的积蓄哄骗到手了。几个月后，他就会借口有公务去伦敦，然后一去而不返。只有一个女人之后又见过他一面，其他人只是在她们被迫出席做证时，才在被告席上又见到了他。她们都是有些身份的女人。其中一个出身医生家庭，另一个女人出身神职人员家庭，还有一个是出租公寓的管理员；一个女人的前夫是旅行推销员，另一个女人的前夫是个已退休的裁缝。这些女人多数都有五百至一千英镑的财产。但无论她们有多少钱，最后都被他骗走了，导致这些女人一文不名。她们中的一些人讲了自己被骗后的凄惨生活，真是让人闻之落泪。但她们都说他曾对她们非常好，像是一个好丈夫。不仅有三个女人请求法官宽恕他，甚至还有一个女人在证人席上说，如果他愿意回来，她准备接纳他。他注意到我正在读这一段。 “她愿意为我去工作，”他说道，“这一点毫无疑问。但我说最好就让过去的事就这样过去吧。坦白地说，我虽然非常喜欢吃羊身上最好的那块肉，但这块烤肉如果已经冰凉了就没有味道了。” 只是由于碰巧了，莫蒂默·埃利斯才没有娶到第十二个妻子，取得“整整一打”的结果。我知道他非常在意这样对称的数字。他曾千方百计想要娶哈伯德小姐为妻。他告诉我说：“她共有两千英镑的财产。她只要有一点儿钱就都买成战时公债了。”他俩的结婚公告都已经张贴了出去。不巧的是，他的前妻碰见了他。她经过询问后向警察报了案。就在他将要举行第十二次婚礼的前一天，警察逮捕了他。 “她是一个坏女人，”他对我说，“她背叛了我，而且是以这种恶毒的方式。” “她是怎么背叛你的？” “哦，我是在伊斯特本碰见她的。那是十二月的一天，在码头上。她告诉我说，她过去经营女帽，现在退休了。她说自己积攒了不小的一笔钱，但没有说具体数目，但给我的感觉应该有一千五百英镑。但我娶了她之后才知道，她只有三百英镑。这真让人无法相信。而她竟然还向警察告发了我。跟你说吧，许多男人如果感到他们受到了愚弄都会勃然大怒的。而我从未责怪过她。我甚至从未向她表示自己很失望。我只是一个字都没有留下就离开了。 “但那三百英镑我没有留给她，我拿走了。 “但您也要知道，先生，”他接着说道，带有一种受到了伤害的语气，“三百英镑花不了很长时间。而且我是在跟她结婚四个月后她才吐露真情的。” “恕我冒昧，”我说，“请不要认为我的问题贬低了你的个人魅力，但，她们为什么会嫁给你？” “因为我向她们求婚了。”他回答道，显然对我的问题感到很突然。 “从来就没有人拒绝过你吗？” “很少。在我的一生中，拒绝我求婚的女人不超过四五个吧。当然，我都是感到自己比较有把握时才求婚的，有时也会有人拒绝我的求婚。我当然不能指望每次都会有女人对我一见钟情了。一般情况下我对一个女人最多投入七周的时间，如果还没有效果就不再与她往来了。” 我陷入沉思之中。但过了一会儿我注意到，我这位朋友表情丰富的脸上正在布满笑容。 “我知道你在想什么。”他说道，“是我的外表使你感到迷惑不解。你不知道她们能看上我哪方面。电影和小说中的男主角都英俊潇洒。你认为女人们看中的男人要么是牛仔类型的，要么就是旧式西班牙风格，很浪漫而又有人情味的那种。他们双眼炯炯有神，有着古铜色的皮肤，跳起舞来非常优美。你要让我笑破肚皮了。” “我很高兴你能直言。” “您结过婚没有，先生？” “结过。但我只有一个妻子。” “这样不行。只娶一个老婆你无法透彻地了解女人，你不能只从一个例子中推导出结论来。现在我问你，如果你只养过一条牛头犬，你对犬类会有多少了解呢？” 我想这个问题只是为了加强他的语气，完全不需要回答。他略微停顿了一会儿，以引起听者的注意，然后继续说下去。 “您错了，先生。您完全错了。她们可能会喜欢一个长相英俊的小伙子，但她们并不想嫁给他。女人对男人的外表并不真正在意。 “道格拉斯·杰罗尔的长相就很丑，但他非常聪明。他就说过，如果让他与一个女人待上十分钟，就能让这间屋内最英俊的男人开溜。 “女人们不想嫁给聪明的男人。她们也不想嫁给有趣的男人，她们认为这样的男人不够庄重。女人们同样不想嫁给长相特别英俊的男人，她们认为这样的男人也不够庄重。她们需要嫁给一个庄重的男人。她们首先考虑的是安全，然后是这个男人对她们是否殷勤。我这个人可能既不英俊，也不有趣，但请相信我的话，我拥有女人所需要的一切。我很自信。证据就是，我曾让我娶过的所有女人都感到幸福。” “你三个前妻都曾在法庭上为你求情，其中一个还愿意接纳你，这肯定能大大增加你的自信。” “您不知道，我在监狱中对此一直都非常焦虑。当我刑满释放的时候，我真担心她们会在监狱的大门外等我。我当时对典狱长说，看在上帝的面上，先生，把我偷偷送出去吧，不要让任何人看到我。” 他又把手套套回手上，又盯上了食指上的破洞。 “住在寄宿公寓就有这样的好处，先生。您可能要问了，一个男人没有妻子服侍怎么能保持整洁和干净呢？但我已经结过多次婚了，我能一个人过得好好的。有些男人不喜欢结婚，这让我难以理解。实际上，你只有全身心地投入到一件事上才能把这件事做好。我喜欢做一个已婚的男人。对我而言，想要讨女人喜欢一点儿都不难。而有些男人却不屑去做这样的事。正如我刚才所言，女人们需要的是殷勤。我出门前肯定要给我的妻子一个吻，我回家后也肯定要先给她一个吻。我很少回家不给她们带上点儿鲜花或巧克力。我从来不抱怨这方面的花销。” “但你花的都是她们的钱。”我插嘴道。 “那又有什么关系？重要的不是你买这件礼物花了钱，而是这件礼物所表达的意义。女人们重视的正是这一点。我不是一个喜欢自吹自擂的人，但我可以这样评价自己：我是一个好丈夫。” 我随意地翻看着手上登有那次审判报道的剪报。 “我发现了一件使我感到惊奇的现象，”我说道，“所有这些女人都有值得尊敬的身份，都是些有一定阅历、安分守己的正派人。然而她们在认识你这么短的时间内又不经过调查，就嫁给了你。” 他拍拍我的胳膊。 “这一点您就无法理解了，先生。女人都渴望嫁个男人。无论她们的岁数是年幼还是年长，个头是高还是矮，皮肤是黑还是白，她们都有一个共同之处：她们想要嫁人。请您注意，我都是在教堂举行婚礼。一个女人只有在教堂举行了婚礼才会真正感到安全。您说我不够英俊，而我从来也是这样看自己的。但即使我只有一条腿而且还驼背，女人们照样会争先恐后地嫁给我，我想娶几个就能娶几个。她们在意的不是要嫁给一个什么样的男人，而是能否嫁出去。这是女人们患上的一种狂躁症，是一种病态。她们之所以没有一个在见到我的第二面后就嫁给我，那是因为我只在确信有把握后才向她们求婚。其结果就是我求婚的次数非常有限，总共也就结了十一次婚。刚十一次？这也太少了。连一整打都没凑上。如果我想要的话，我肯定能结三十次婚。我向您保证，先生，当我想到自己曾有过的机会，我都为自己的节制而感到吃惊。” “你对我说过，你很喜欢读历史书。” “是的，这是沃伦·黑斯廷斯曾说过的话，对不对？我读到这句话的时候印象特别深刻。把他这句话套用在我身上是再合适不过了。” “你这样不断地求婚，就从未感到有点儿乏味吗？” “哦，先生，我想我这个人很有逻辑头脑。观察同样的原因能导出相同的结果总是使我感到非常愉快。当然，您要理解我说的是什么意思。例如，如果对方是一个从未结过婚的女人，我就称自己是一个鳏夫。这一招真是效验如神呀。您不知道，一个老处女喜欢有些阅历的男人。但如果对方是个寡妇，我就总是说自己是个大龄剩男。一个寡妇害怕嫁给一个结过婚的男人，这类男人懂得太多。” 我将他的剪报还给他。他将这些剪报整整齐齐地叠好，重新夹入那个油腻腻的笔记本中。 “您不知道，先生，我总是感到自己被冤枉了。您看他们怎么评价我：一条社会害虫、无耻的恶棍、卑鄙的无赖。您现在再看看我。我问您，我像是那种人吗？您现在了解我了，我将自己的一切都告诉您了，而您又非常善于识别人，您现在认为我是一个坏人吗？” “我对你了解得还很少。”我认为自己这样回答很圆通。 “我想，那些法官、陪审员，还有公众，他们是否曾站在我的立场上考虑过这个问题。当我被带进法庭时，观众席上是一片嘘声。法警不得不护着我，以免我挨打。他们有人想过我是怎么对待这些女人的没有。” “你拿走了她们的钱。” “我当然要拿走她们的钱了。就像其他人一样，我也要活着呀。但我也给她们回报了。您知道我都给了她们多少回报吗？” 这又是一个不需要回答的问题。尽管他盯着我，好像希望我回答似的，但我没有作声。我确实也不知道怎么回答。他的声音提高了，说话也一字一顿的。我可以看出来他是真认真了。 “我来告诉你，我拿什么来交换她们的钱财。这就是一次浪漫的经历。看看这个地方，”他伸出手来划了一个大圈，将大海和地平线都划了进去，“在英格兰有上百处这样的地方。看看这片大海和天空，看看这些出租房屋，再看看码头和海滨大道。难道这些没有使您感到情绪低落吗？这里真是死一般的沉寂。您是想到这里来放松放松，只待上一两个星期，您的感受不会太深。但想想那些年复一年生活在这里的女人。她们看不到前途，她们在这里谁都不认识。她们只是不愁吃穿而已。我想你可能真的不知道她们过的那种可怕的生活。她们的生活就像这条海滨大道一样，表面覆盖着混凝土，一直向前延伸，没有尽头。从一处海滨景区通向另一处海滨景区。即使到了旅游热季也跟她们没有什么关系。她们是些局外人。她们觉得自己还是死了更好些。就在这时，我出现了。请您记住，如果一个女人不愿意承认自己已经到了三十五岁以上，我是不会去向她献殷勤的。我给予她们爱情。很多女人从来没有体验过被男人追求是种什么感觉。很多女人也从来没有过黑暗中坐在一条长凳上，一个男人搂住她腰肢的经历。我给她们带来了新鲜与刺激的感觉，我让她们重新对自己感到骄傲。她们被束之高阁，难以嫁人。而我悄悄地靠近，从容不迫地将她们取下来。在她们单调乏味的生活中出现了一缕阳光，那就是我。她们争先恐后地要嫁给我一点儿也不奇怪，她们要接我再回去也毫不奇怪。唯一将我赶出来的女人就是那个女帽商。她说她是个寡妇，我私下里对她的评价是，她再也嫁不出去了。您说我对她们做了缺德事，这不对。我给十一个女人带去了幸福和性快乐。她们今后再也不会有这样的机会了。您要说我是个恶棍与坏蛋，那您就错了。我是个慈善家，但他们却判了我五年监禁。他们应该授予我一枚英国溺水者营救会的勋章。” 他取出他那空空如也的黄金洛牌香烟盒，看了看，然后忧郁地摇了摇头。当我将自己的烟盒递给他的时候，他二话没说就取出了一支香烟。我看着这个好人，他在竭力控制自己的情绪。 “我问你，我做了这么多慈善之事，但得到的回报是什么？”他又开始说上了，“除了食宿费用外，我连买包烟的钱都没有了。我这个人不会攒钱。证据就摆在眼前，我都到了这个岁数了，可口袋里从来就留不住几块钱。”他侧面瞅了我一眼，“我竟然到了这个地步，真是落魄至极呀。我过去从来都是靠自己挣钱，我这一生中都还没有管一个朋友借过钱。我在想，先生，您能否借我一点儿钱。说出这样的话来真让我感到羞愧，但现在的情况是，如果您能借给我一个英镑，对我来说都是一大笔钱。” 好吧，我从这个重婚者这里得到的乐趣足以价值一个英镑了。我伸手去掏钱包。 “我愿意借给你点儿钱。”我说道。 他看着我掏出的钞票。 “您能借给我两英镑吗，先生？” "Can." 我递给他两张一英镑的钞票，他接过后叹了一口气。 “您不知道这两英镑对我意味着什么。我过去过惯了舒适的家庭生活，现在却不知道自己下一晚睡觉要上哪里去对付。” “有一件事希望你能告诉我，”我说道，“我虽然不是玩世不恭的人，但我认为总体来说女性更适用于这句格言：施恩比受惠更有福。而男性则不大适用。你是怎样哄得这些正派，而且无疑很节俭的女人这样相信你，将她们的全部积蓄都交给了你的？” 他被逗乐了，长相平平的脸上满是笑容。 “好吧，先生。莎士比亚曾经说过，野心常因过大而招致失败。这就是答案。告诉一个女人，如果她将积蓄交给你去运营，你能在六个月内让她的钱翻一番，她就会忙不迭地将钱递到你的手上。贪婪，这就是答案。只因为她们贪婪。” 接触了这个有趣的恶棍后又回到正派人中间，尤其是像圣克莱尔夫妇和波切斯特小姐这样依然佩着薰衣草香袋，穿着四周撑起衬裙的人们中间，就像上了一道冰激凌上浇了滚烫调味汁的菜，强烈的反差真的很刺激人的胃口。我现在每天晚上都与这家人一起消磨时光。只要两位女士一离开餐厅，圣克莱尔先生马上就会让服务员送来一张便条，邀请我与他一起喝一杯波尔图葡萄酒。喝完葡萄酒后，我俩就会走进休息室喝咖啡。圣克莱尔先生自己还要喝点儿陈年白兰地。与他们一家在一起的时候极度乏味，恐怕我是唯一能对此迷恋的人了。旅馆的经理曾告诉他们我正在写剧本。 “亨利·欧文爵士还在莱森戏院的时候我们经常去那家剧院看戏。”圣克莱尔先生说，“我曾有幸见过他。有一次约翰·埃弗里特·米莱斯爵士带我到加里克俱乐部去吃晚饭，我在那里被介绍与他相识。他那时还没有爵士头衔呢。” “埃德温，告诉他当时欧文先生对你说了些什么。”圣克莱尔夫人说道。 圣克莱尔先生摆出了一副演戏的样子，活灵活现地模仿着亨利·欧文的神态说道：“'你长着一副演员的面孔，圣克莱尔先生，'他对我说，'如果你什么时候想要当演员的话就来找我，我来给你安排一个角色。'”圣克莱尔先生现在完全露出了他原本的样子。“这番话足以使一个年轻人飘飘然了。” “但您却没有因此而成为一个演员。”我说道。 “我不否认，如果在其他情况下我可能就会受此诱惑而成为一个演员了。但当时我要考虑家人的态度。当时我如果不选择经商，我父亲会伤心至极的。” “您选择了经营什么？” “我是一个茶叶商，先生。我的公司是伦敦历史最悠久的茶叶公司。在我年轻的时候英国人普遍都喝中国茶，而我一生用了四十年的时间想要改变人们的这一习惯，我竭力想要人们养成喝锡兰茶的习惯。” 我想象着他用了一生的时间来劝导大众放弃他们想要的东西，而去购买他们不想要的东西，感到他真是可爱而又有个性的老头。 “我丈夫年轻的时候在业余时间演过很多戏。人们认为他的演技很棒。”圣克莱尔夫人说道。 “我一般都演莎士比亚的戏剧，有时也出演过《造谣学校》。我从来不会去出演那些乱七八糟的戏剧。但那都是过去的事了。我有表演的天才，浪费了真可惜了，但现在是太晚了。聚餐的时候，有时在女士们的强烈要求下，我会朗诵一段哈姆雷特的著名独白。现在我也就只能做这些了。” Oh!Oh!Oh!我一想到那种聚餐，一想到那种迷人的氛围，不禁浑身都要颤抖起来。不知我是否能有幸被邀请参加一次这样的聚餐。圣克莱尔夫人对我的反应有些吃惊，冲我微微笑了笑。但仍是一脸严肃。 “我丈夫年轻的时候像个波西米亚人，非常放荡不羁。”她说道。 “我曾经沉醉放荡过。我认识许多画家和作家。如威尔基·柯林斯。我还结识了一些报纸的专栏作家。瓦茨曾为我妻子画了一幅肖像。我还买过一幅米莱斯的油画，我认识许多拉斐尔前派的画家。” “您也买过罗塞蒂的画吗？” “没有。我钦佩罗塞蒂的天才，但我不赞成他的私生活。如果一个画家我不屑请他到家里吃饭，我就决不会买他的画。” 波切斯特小姐看看表说：“您今晚不给我们读书了吗，埃德温姑父？”而我的脑袋这时也有点儿昏昏沉沉，因此我告辞了。 一天晚上，当我与圣克莱尔先生在一起喝一杯波尔图葡萄酒的时候，他告诉了我波切斯特小姐的故事。她与圣克莱尔夫人的一个外甥订了婚。他是一个有资格出席高级法庭的律师。但这时他与洗衣女佣的女儿私通的事曝光了。 “这太可怕了，”圣克莱尔先生说道，“太可怕了。我侄女当然也就只有与他分手了。她退回了他的订婚戒指，他的书信，还有他的照片，说她不再可能嫁给他了。她请求他娶了这个他做了不当之事的女孩，说自己能当她的姐姐。这件事让她彻底伤了心。自那以后，她就无心嫁人了。” “他娶了那个女孩吗？” 圣克莱尔先生摇摇头，叹了口气。 “没有，我们完全看错他这个人了。我妻子每当想到她的一个外甥竟然做出这样丢脸的事来，心里就感到极度的忧伤。过了一段时间后我们听说他与一位年轻的女士订了婚。这个姑娘家境不错，她自己就有一万英镑的财产。我感到自己有责任将他过去的所作所为告知这个姑娘的父亲，因此给她父亲写了一封信。他给我的回信非常傲慢无礼。他说他宁愿他的女婿在婚前有个情妇，而不要在婚后找一个。” "and after?" “他俩结婚了。现在我妻子的这个外甥是英国高等法院的一名大法官，他的妻子成了大法官夫人。但我们从来不邀请他来家做客。当我妻子的这个外甥受封骑士爵位后，埃莉诺曾建议我们请他吃顿饭，但我妻子说永远不许他再踏进我们家的门槛。我支持她这个意见。” “那个洗衣女工的女儿呢？” “她后来嫁给了一个门当户对的丈夫。她住在坎特伯雷市的一套公寓房内。我侄女自己有点儿钱，她尽力帮助这个女人，而且还是她第一个孩子的教母。” 可怜的波切斯特小姐。她是将自己牺牲在维多利亚时代的道德祭坛上了。恐怕她从这一切中得到的唯一收获就是意识到自己表现得很完美。 “波切斯特小姐是个外貌非常引人注目的女人，”我说道，“她年轻的时候一定是美貌绝伦。她怎么就没有再嫁个其他男人呢，我真纳闷。” “波切斯特小姐曾经是个公认的大美人。阿尔玛-塔德玛非常欣赏她的美貌，曾邀请她做他一幅画中人物的模特。我们当然不能允许她这样做了。”圣克莱尔先生的语气表明，这个提议严重伤害了他的感情，他认为当模特不大正派。“除了她那个表兄，波切斯特小姐对任何男人都没看上眼。他俩分手已经三十年了，但她从来没有提过他。但我相信她心里还在默默地爱着他。她是一个真正的女人，一辈子只爱一个男人。虽然我对她被剥夺了婚姻与母亲的快乐而感到遗憾，但我非常钦佩她的忠诚。” 但一个女人的内心是猜不透的。认定她就会这样安分下去恐怕下结论太早。埃德温大叔，您的结论可能下得太早。您虽然熟悉埃莉诺这么多年，自打她母亲身体日渐衰弱，最后撒手归西，您就把这个孤儿接到了自己家，接到了您那位于伦斯特广场的舒适，甚至有些奢侈的家中，她那时还是一个孩子。但进入事情的实质问题上，埃德温大叔，您真的了解埃莉诺吗？ 在圣克莱尔先生非常信任我，对我讲述了波切斯特小姐的感人故事，让我知道了她至今未嫁的原委后的两天，那是个下午，我打了一场高尔夫球后回到旅馆，旅馆的女经理就慌里慌张地上楼来对我说：“这是圣克莱尔先生的便条，他要我在您一回到旅馆后就请您立即到27号房间去。” “我知道了。出什么事了吗？” “哦，出了件少见的乱子。他们会告诉您的。” 我敲了敲27号房间的门，听到门内传出了“请进，请进”的声音。听到这个声音，使我想起圣克莱尔先生可能曾在伦敦最优秀的业余剧团出演过莎士比亚的戏剧。我走进房间，发现圣克莱尔夫人正躺在沙发上，额头上敷着一块浸了科隆香水的手帕，手上拿着一瓶嗅盐。圣克莱尔先生则站在壁炉前，他的姿势就像是不想让这屋里的其他人烤到火一样。 “以这样一种无礼的方式请您过来，我首先要向您表示道歉。但我俩现在极度焦虑，我们想，也许您能对这件发生的事情有个解释。” 一望可知，他现在非常烦恼。 "What happened?" “我侄女，波切斯特小姐，她私奔了。今天早上她给我妻子送了个字条，说她的头痛症又犯了。而她只要一犯头痛症，就希望别人不要去打搅她。直到今天下午我妻子才去看她，看看能为她做点儿什么。但她的屋内空无一人，她的旅行箱都收拾好了。她的化妆盒与银器都不见了。在枕头上她给我们留了一封信，告诉我们她的仓促之举。” “非常抱歉，”我说道，“我不知道我到底能做点儿什么。” “根据我俩的印象，您是她在艾尔珊所认识的唯一男士。” 他这句话的意思把我弄了个大红脸。 “我可没有与她私奔，”我说道，“还好我是一个结了婚的男人。” “我知道您没有与她私奔。起初我们想，可能……但不是您，那又会是谁呢？” “这我肯定不知道。” “把那封信让他看看，埃德温。”圣克莱尔夫人躺在沙发上说道。 “别动，格特鲁德。要不你又会腰痛的。”波切斯特小姐有头痛症，圣克莱尔夫人有腰痛症，那么圣克莱尔先生会有什么病呢？我敢拿五英镑出来打赌，圣克莱尔先生有痛风症。他递给我那封信，我以一种庄重而同情的神态读了这封信。 “我永远也不会原谅她，”当我把信还给他的时候，圣克莱尔先生说道，“她永远也不能再踏进我的家门。格特鲁德，我不许你再在我面前提到埃莉诺的名字。” 圣克莱尔夫人默默地开始抽泣。 “您这样也太绝了吧？”我说道，“波切斯特小姐为什么就不能结婚呢？” “她都这么大岁数了，”他愤怒地回答道，“这也太可笑了。我们一家会成为在伦斯特广场居住的所有人的笑柄。你知道她多大岁数了吗？她都五十一岁了。” “五十四岁。”圣克莱尔夫人抽泣着说道。 “我们一直把她视为掌上明珠，把她看作自己的女儿。她成为老姑娘已经多年了。我认为以她现在这样的年龄，结婚绝对不合适。” “对我们而言，她总是个姑娘，埃德温。”圣克莱尔夫人祈求道。 “她嫁给的这个男人是谁？这是一场让人怨恨难消的骗局。她一定是在咱俩眼皮底下跟他勾搭上了。她甚至没有告诉咱们他的名字。我担心会出现最坏的结果。” 我突然产生了一种灵感。那天早上吃完早餐后，我出去买了包香烟。在香烟铺我碰上了莫蒂默·埃利斯。我有几天没有见到他了。 “你看起来非常整洁。”我说道。 他的皮鞋修好了，打上鞋油后显得乌黑锃亮；他的头发也梳过了，穿着一件新衬衣，戴着一副新手套。我想他是有效地使用了我给他的那两英镑的钱。 “我今天上午要到伦敦去办点儿公事。”他回答说。 我点点头就离开了商店。 我又想起来了两个星期前在小路上散步时的情景。当时我碰到了波切斯特小姐，在她身后几码远的地方又碰到了莫蒂默·埃利斯。难道不是他俩正在一起散步，看到我后，他就拉后了一段距离？老天爷呀，我全明白了。 “我想您说过，波切斯特小姐自己也有一些钱？”我问道。 “她有不多一点儿钱，也就是三千英镑吧。” 现在我可以肯定了。我茫然地望着他俩。突然，圣克莱尔夫人跳了起来。 “埃德温，埃德温，如果他没有娶她呢？” 圣克莱尔先生闻听此言，双手抱住了脑袋，一下子瘫坐在一张椅子上。 “这种奇耻大辱会要了我的命。”他呻吟道。 “不用惊慌，”我说道，“他会在教堂与她结婚的。” 老两口没有注意我说的是什么。他俩可能认为我突然说起了疯话。我现在完全可以肯定了。莫蒂默·埃利斯到底是实现了他的抱负。波切斯