Chapter 15 Section five

Of course, apart from them, there are also some Dante researchers, which need to be briefly explained here.These men, who settled temporarily or permanently in Europe, included Longfellow's neighbor (and one-time student) Charles Elliott Norton, and William Dean Howells.Then there is Professor Tickner, seventy-four years old, who, since thirty years ago, has lived a solitary life in a hermitage in his library; language teacher, later fired from Harvard; all former Longfellow students, members of Lowell's Dante seminar (and a few of Tickner's students).Make a list, hold a series of secret meetings, these are the things to do in the future

Affection.For the moment, though, Holmes could only hope that they would find something, an explanation, and save them from embarrassing themselves in the presence of those they respected, who also (so far at least) respected them. If the death scene had been outside the Second Unitarian Church in Cambridge, there would be no clue today.Besides, if their surmises were correct, there was indeed a pit in the yard where Talbot was buried, and the deacon had hastily covered it up with grass.In order to attract more congregations, it is not necessarily the best strategy to advertise a dead pastor headfirst outside the door.

"Let's look inside," Longfellow suggested.He looked calm and seemed in no hurry about their lack of progress. Holmes followed Longfellow closely. In the small chapel at the rear of the church, used as a dressing room and office, there is a large stone door built into the wall, but it does not lead to another room, and the church has no other wing. Longfellow took off his gloves and touched the cold stone door with his hand, feeling the extreme cold behind it. "Exactly!" whispered Holmes.As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the chill went straight to his heart. "The tomb, Longfellow. The tomb is down..."

"Dante found the priest among the leaden rocks," said Longfellow. A trembling voice interrupted: "Gentlemen, do you need my help?" The sexton, who first discovered Talbot's burning, was a tall, thin man in a black robe, with white hair and a mouthful A shaggy beard, like a brush.His eyes are so big that he always looks like he has seen a ghost. "Good morning, sir." Holmes came over, tossing his hat up and down.At this moment, Holmes wished Lowell or Fields were here, both of whom were natural communication experts. "Sir, my friend and I need to trouble you, please allow us to visit the catacombs."

The sexton made no sign of graciously accepting the request. Looking back, Holmes saw Longfellow standing there with his hands folded on his cane, looking as calm as if he were an unwelcome bystander. "Ah, what I just said, good sir, you know, is quite important, we... oh, I'm Dr. Holmes, and I sit in the anatomy and physiology professor's chair at the medical school. It's a chair, but it's A settee, for I teach a great many subjects. Perhaps you have read my poems, in--" "Sir!" said the sexton, his voice harsh and screaming, "didn't you know, sir, that our pastor was recently found..." He stammered in terror, and drew back a step. "I tend that place, not everyone can get in and out! Gosh, that happened when I was on duty, and I gotta say it was a devil, no feet to walk... walk around, it's not human!" He paused Suddenly, "Those feet..." As soon as he said these words, his eyes widened, his eyes were dull, and he seemed unable to continue.

"His feet, sir," asked Dr. Holmes, wishing to hear from the sexton, though he had seen Talbot's feet, and knew what they were burnt to? What's the matter?" "Those feet," continued the sexton, after a long silence, "are burning, sir; they are chariots of fire in a dark chamber. Excuse me, gentlemen." He hung his head, looking despondent. , gesturing for them to leave. "Good sir," said Longfellow softly, "we are here for Reverend Talbot's death." The verger's wide eyes immediately relaxed.Holmes wondered whether the sexton recognized the much-loved silver-bearded poet, or if Longfellow's quiet voice calmed and calmed his frenzied heart.But Holmes knew that if the efforts of the Dante Club were to bear any fruit, it must be because Longfellow's presence brought as much peace to the people as he did to the English language through his pen. the tranquility.

Longfellow went on: "Although we can only prove ourselves to you by promises, my dear sir, we do hope to have your help. I beg you to trust us, because I feel that we may be the only ones who really know all What happened. And, we will never let it out." A huge empty chasm, misty.They moved their steps cautiously and descended into the narrow tomb.A stench came to his nostrils, making Dr. Holmes's eyes hurt and his nose sore, as if pepper had been sprinkled on him. He quickly opened his palm to blow away the stench in front of his nose.Unlike Holmes, Longfellow breathed more or less easily.His sense of smell has a good point, he can distinguish what he should smell and what he should not smell: the fragrance of spring flowers and other refreshing fragrances, his nose can sniff again and again, as for unpleasant smells, he rejects them all. on the outside.

Sexton Gregg said the public burial chamber was located below the street level and stretched for several blocks. Longfellow lit the lantern and saw the rows of stone pillars, then lowered his head to examine these simple sarcophagi carefully. The sexton hesitated for a moment, and talking about Reverend Talbot, "You two must not underestimate him. If I tell you two, our venerable pastor likes to go through the passage of the tomb... Hey, to be honest Well, not to work in church." "Why did he come here?" asked Holmes. "He's a short way home from here. To be honest, I don't like this tomb."

A small piece of paper left by Ray, with the letters a and h on it, was trampled by Holmes' boots and sank into a thick layer of dust. Longfellow asked Greg that there must be an exit from the crypt to the street, and whether anyone would enter the crypt through that exit. "No," said the sexton emphatically, "the exit door can only be opened from the inside. The police have checked and found no sign that anyone has opened the door from the outside. Also, there is no sign that Reverend Talbot The night he was last in the tomb, he came to the exit door to the street."

Holmes pulled Longfellow back until the sexton couldn't hear them, and then he said in a low voice as if he had a secret to tell Longfellow, "Don't you think there is something in it? Talbot can't cut corners here. We'd better ask the sexton. We don't know about Talbot's priesthood business, and this might be a clue!" They had to find proof that Talbot was anything but Something for a competent "shepherd". Longfellow said, "I don't think it seems appropriate to say that a man is a criminal just because he walks by a burial chamber, don't you think? Also, we know that buying and selling priesthood has to do with money, whether you buy it or sell it. The sexton worshiped Talbot as much as the congregation, and if we kept asking him about Talbot's hobbies, we'd probably get only what he was willing to reveal. Remember, Sector Greg and all Bostonians are no different, and decided that Talbot's death was entirely the result of someone's misdeeds, not his own fault."

"Then how did our Satan get in? If the door of the tomb to the street can only be opened from the inside... And the sexton also said that he was in the church at the time and didn't see anyone passing the chapel... " "Most likely the gangsters were waiting at the exit of the street, waited until Talbot climbed the escalator to open the door, and immediately pushed him back to the tomb." Longfellow guessed. "If that's the case, how could he move so quickly and dig a hole big enough to accommodate two people in a very short period of time? It seems more likely that the criminals dug the hole and waited for Tal Potter walks up and surprises him, drags him to the edge of the hole, pushes him down, and dumps kerosene on his feet..." The verger who was walking in front of them stopped suddenly.Half of his body seemed to be frozen, while the other half was shaking like chaff.He opened his mouth wide to speak, but only managed a mournful howl.He forced his mouth out and motioned them to look at the thick stone slabs on the ground covered with a thick layer of dirt.The sexton turned and ran, hastening to the church. Right in front of them was the place they were looking for, within reach. With all their might, Longfellow and Holmes moved the slab out of the way.I saw a round hole dug in the ground, the hole is not very big, but it is just right to stuff a person of medium build.A smell of burning corpses rose up as the slabs moved away, the stench of carrion and the pungent smell of fried onions.Holmes hastily covered his nose with the scarf. Longfellow knelt down and picked up a handful of earth which was heaped beside the hole. "Yes, you are right, Holmes," said Longfellow. .Needless to say, the murderer was lurking here long before Talbot came in. He managed to evade our terrified friend Sergeant Greg, entered the crypt, and knocked Talbot unconscious," Longfellow surmised Said, "Put Talbot upside down in the hole in the earth, and burn his feet with oil." "Imagine such cruel torture! Talbot certainly didn't lose consciousness before he died, knowing what happened. If you were burned alive, it would feel..." Holmes suddenly realized something, and immediately closed his eyes "I didn't mean that, Longfellow..." He scolded himself for talking too much and slipped his mouth, "You know, I just said..." Longfellow didn't seem to be listening to him.He spread his palms apart, and the dirt in his hands fell from between his fingers, and then he carefully placed a bouquet of bright flowers on the edge of the hole. "'Stay here, for your punishment is just,'" Longfellow intoned the lines from Canto XIX of the Inferno fluently, as if written in the air before his eyes. Here, he just read it. "My dear Holmes, it was Dante who spoke to Nicholas III the clergyman in Hell." Dr. Holmes couldn't stay any longer.Firstly, the air here is too turbid, which made him panic, and secondly, what he said just now made him regret it. Longfellow, however, had no intention of going away, and was taking the gas lamp to illuminate the undisturbed earth hole, and did not want to look at it."We had to dig down, the hole was deeper than we saw. The police certainly didn't notice that," he said. Holmes watched him suspiciously. "I won't! Talbot was upside down in the hole, not buried at the bottom, my dear Longfellow!" Longfellow said: "Recall what Dante said to the sinner when Nicholas III was shaking violently in the filthy hole in which he was punished." Holmes read aloud softly: "'Stay here, for your punishment is just...keep your ill-gotten money...'" He stopped suddenly, "keep your unjust Money for righteousness. Wasn't Dante just mocking the poor sinner's mercenary life in his customary sarcasm?" "Of course, that's why I only read this poem just now." Longfellow said, "Dante may have no deep meaning in saying this sentence, but it can also be considered that this sentence actually implies the purchase and sale of priesthood." part of the law of retribution for the dead, that is to be buried head to foot, with under their heads the money they earned by dirty means. Presumably Dante was thinking of St. The words of Simon: 'Thy silver shall perish with thee.' So construed, Dante's sinner's hole is his everlasting purse." After hearing Longfellow's explanation, Holmes didn't say anything, but let out a series of vague sounds from his throat. "If we dig down," said Longfellow, smiling, "it may prove that your doubts are unfounded." He reached out with his stick to reach the bottom of the cave, but could not reach it. "My body is a bit bigger, so I probably won't be able to get in." Longfellow checked the size of the hole with his eyes, and then looked at the small doctor, who was leaning forward and coughing badly. Holmes stood motionless. "Oh, but, Longfellow..." He looked down at the hole. "Why did God give me such a shape without asking my opinion?" There was nothing to say.Longfellow doesn't like to argue with people, and he's just as comfortable as you want him to be.If Lovell had been here, he would have jumped into the hole and dug like a rabbit. "Nine times out of ten I'll break my fingernails." Longfellow nodded gratefully.The doctor closed his eyes tightly, and slowly put his feet into the hole first. "It's too narrow. I can't bend over. I can't reach in and dig." Longfellow took Holmes' hand and helped him climb out of the hole.The doctor burrowed back into the hole, head forward this time, Longfellow clutching the legs of his trousers with both hands.The knack of playing puppet show, the poet simply got it by chance. "Be careful, Longfellow! Be careful!" "Can you see clearly?" Longfellow asked. Holmes could not hear what Longfellow was saying.He used both hands to scrape away the soil, and the wet soil was stuffed between his nails, with a kind of warmth that made people's skin crawl, and then it became cold, and finally it was as hard as ice.The most unpleasant thing is the smell inside, the putrid stench of burning corpses deposited in this deep, airtight cave.Holmes tried to hold his breath, but the hold, combined with his natural asthma, made his head feel light, like a balloon that was about to float away. It was the Reverend Talbot who was in the hole which had been his death; Talbot had fallen upside down in the hole, and he had the same head and feet.The difference was that the soles of his feet were not burning, but were tightly held by Mr. Longfellow's hands. The bad thing was that Longfellow's voice got smaller and smaller as it got into the hole, and it was indistinct and indistinct.The doctor is now "close to the outside world", just full of random thoughts: if he loses consciousness, will Longfellow let him go and leave him alone?If he keeps falling, will he fall through the center of the earth?He suddenly felt that they were putting themselves in danger by trying to fight for a book.All kinds of thoughts came one after another, like flowing water without end, until the doctor's hand touched something. It doesn't feel like a hard object.Could it be a piece of clothing?No, it was a bag, a smooth cloth bag. Holmes was trembling all over. He tried to speak, but a pile of dirt stuck in front of his nose, and the stench choked him.He panicked and froze for a while before regaining his senses, swinging his legs wildly. Knowing that this was a signal, Longfellow grabbed his feet and pulled Holmes out of the hole.Once out of the hole, Holmes gasped for air, then spat and spoke incoherently.Longfellow looked at him concerned. Holmes moved his knee tremblingly. "Look what this is, for God's sake, Longfellow!" Holmes pulled the string from the mud-stained bag and tore open the top. Longfellow watched as Holmes poured out a thousand dollars from the bag and scattered them on the hard floor of the burial chamber. In the sprawling Great Oak Park, the Healy family estate for three generations, Nell Lanney led two visitors through the long porch.These two people are very strange, they neither speak a word, nor have expressions on their faces, but their eyes are very flexible, blinking flickeringly.That's all right, Nell thought, the most peculiar thing was their clothes, which not only didn't match up and down, but also strange and extremely rare. The Justice's eldest son, Richard Sullivan Healy, rose to welcome his two literary guests, and Nell limped away from the room. "Excuse the maid's rudeness," said Healy, after ordering Nell Lanney to leave, "she was the one who found my father's body and brought him into the house, and she's been scrutinizing whoever it is ever since." After a while, it seemed that he might be the murderer. During these days, she was as suspicious as my mother, full of strange thoughts, which really worried us." "If you would like, Richard, we would like to see the Honorable Mrs. Healy this morning," said Lowell politely. The judge's eulogy was compiled into a book and published by Tickna Fields." The publisher was not related to the Healys, so they had to find such an excuse as a reason to enter. Richard Healy pouted his large mouth in a graceful curve. "I'm afraid it's impossible to see her, Cousin Lowell. She's been very ill lately, as she is today. She's in bed." "Yeah, maybe you're sick?" Lowell leaned forward with a certain kind of morbid curiosity. Richard Healy blinked hard a few times, hesitated for a moment, and said: "It's not physical, or it can't be cured by the doctor. But she is indeed suffering from mania. In the past few weeks, I have been worried. Her illness is getting worse, and her physical condition is estimated to be getting worse. She feels that she is possessed by ghosts. Forgive me for being rude, gentlemen, she feels like worms are crawling all over her body, so She couldn't restrain herself from scratching her body until the whole body was covered with bloodstains, and she didn't care that it was just her hallucination." "Is there anything we can do to help her, Healy dear?" Fields asked. "Find my father's murderer," Healy whispered sadly, only to find the two guests unresponsive and unresponsive to his words with embarrassment.