Chapter 13 Chapter 12 The Chaotic Land
The riders galloped in spite of the rough downhill, and soon left the pursuers far away. At last the large houses in Lansey came into view, and the pursuers were gone.However, the town is still far away.When they really arrived at the town, Xitian had already been dyed warm crimson by a genuine sunset.The Colonel suggested that they should try to pick up another person who might be useful before finally going to the police station.
"Four out of five rich people in this town," he said, "are common liars. I think it's the same all over the world. The fifth is my friend, a very nice fellow. Most importantly, he has a car."
"I'm afraid," said the professor cheerfully, looking back at the white road, where the dark blotch that was creeping along, might appear at any moment, "I'm afraid we won't have much time to visit this afternoon."
"Dr. Leonard's house is only three minutes away," said the colonel.
"The danger we face," said Dr. Bull, "is not two minutes away."
"Indeed," said Syme, "if we rode fast, we'd be sure to get rid of 'em, for they walk."
"He has a car," said the colonel.
"But we might not get it," Bull said.
"It seems that he is completely on your side."
"But he may not be at home."
"Shut up," said Syme suddenly, "what's that sound?"
For a moment they were all as still as statues, and then for a second—two or three or four seconds—the sky and the earth seemed to be still as well.Then all their ears heard, in pained concentration, that inexplicable tremor in the road which meant only one thing—horses!
The colonel's face changed instantly, as if he was struck by lightning but was unharmed.
"They're coming after us," he said, with military sharp sarcasm. "Get ready for the cavalry!"
"Where did they get these horses?" asked Syme, as he began to canter impassively.
The colonel was silent for a moment, then said nervously: "I said earlier that the 'Golden Sun' Inn was the only place within a twenty-mile radius where you could get horses, and I was very accurate."
"No!" said Syme excitedly. "I don't believe he'd do it. A gray-haired old man wouldn't do that."
"He may have been forced," said the colonel mildly. "There are at least a hundred of them, so we'll go to my friend Leonard, who has a car."
As soon as the colonel finished speaking, he suddenly turned the horse's head around the corner of the street, and galloped down the street at a thunderous speed. Although the others were also galloping, it was difficult to keep up with his galloping horse's tail.
Dr. Leonard's comfortable house was on a high slope in a steep street, so that when the men dismounted in front of his door they could see again the green, solid ridge of the hill rising above all the roofs of the town, and the white The road is passing through the hill.They gasped and found that there was no dust on the road for a while, so they rang the doorbell.
Dr Leonard, with his brown beard and smiling face, was an excellent representative of the relatively well-preserved obscure but very busy professional class.After listening to their explanation, he expressed utter contempt for the panic of the former Marquis.He expressed, with the firm skepticism of the French, the impossibility of a great anarchist rebellion. "Anarchism," he said, shrugging, "is childish!"
"Then that," the colonel suddenly exclaimed, pointing behind the other party, "that's childish, what do you mean?"
They all turned their heads to see a snaking line of black horsemen sweeping across the hill with all of Attila's strength.Although they rode fast, the whole team still maintained a tight formation, and they could see that the black masks of the first row of riders were as neat as uniforms.But even though the main black phalanx is the same, the progress is fast, but they can clearly see a striking difference on the hillside, most of the riders are in one group, but there is a rider galloping far away in the team In front of him, he was frantically waving his whip, and the horse was running faster and faster, so others couldn't help guessing that he might not be a tracker, but a tracked one.Even from such a large distance, they could see the fanatical and unquestionable aura on him, so they knew that that person might be the secretary of the Supreme Council. "I'm sorry to interrupt a polite conversation," said the colonel. "In two minutes, can you lend me your car?"
"I suspect you are all crazy," said Dr. Renard, smiling kindly, "but God forbid madness will interfere with friendship in any way. Let's go to the garage."
Dr. Renard is mild-tempered and has a huge fortune; his rooms look like a National Museum of the Middle Ages, and he owns three cars.He seemed to use them very little, though, because of his French middle-class simplicity, and when his eager friends went to check them out, it took them a while to figure out that one of them was still driving.They had some trouble getting the car into the street in front of the doctor's house.When they came out of the dark garage, they were surprised to find that dusk had fallen.Perhaps they had been in this place longer than they thought, or some unusually thick cloud had accumulated over the town.They looked down the steep street as if they saw mist rising from the sea.
"This is the time," said Dr. Bull. "I have heard many horses."
"No," corrected the professor, "it's a horse."
They listened intently, and it was evident that the approaching sound, galloping over the rattling stones, was not from the whole cavalry, but from one rider, the mad secretary— He left the large group of people far behind.
Syme's family, like most people who lived the rest of their lives in austerity, had owned a car, so he knew cars very well.He stepped into the driver's seat, twisting and pulling the disused machine with excitement.He poured all his strength into a handle, and then said calmly: "I'm afraid this car can't be driven."
As soon as the words fell, a man rode a fast horse across the street corner with the momentum and perseverance of an arrow.He smiled, his jaw jutting forward as if dislocated.He rode up to the stationary car, which was full of people, and put his hands on the front of it.It was the secretary, his mouth tight with the gravitas of a victor.
Syme held the steering wheel tightly, and there was no sound but the sound of other pursuers on horseback rumbling into town.There was a loud sound of steel rubbing, and the car jumped forward suddenly. The secretary was pulled out of the saddle. The car dragged him for a distance of twenty yards, and then threw him flat on the road ahead.As the car swerved around the corner, they could see the rest of the Anarchists swarming into the street, picking up their fallen leader.
"I don't know why it's so dark," the professor whispered at last.
"I think there's a storm coming," said Dr. Bull. "I say it's a pity we don't have a light on the car."
"We have it," said the colonel, and lifted from the bottom of the carriage an old-fashioned, heavy, carved iron lamp with a tinder in it.It was clearly an antique, and it could be seen that its original use was for some sort of religious purpose, for a crude cross had been cast in one place on the face of the lamp.
"Where the hell did you get it?" the professor asked.
"Where I got the car," replied the Colonel, giggling, "was from a good friend of mine. While our friend was wrestling with the steering wheel here, I ran up the front steps of the house to talk to Leonard Speaking, he was standing under his own porch, you remember.' I suppose,' said I, 'that there's no time to fix the lights.' He looked up and squinted kindly at the handsome vault of his front hall. Suspended by a delicate chain under the vault was the lamp, one of the many treasures of his treasury, which he pulled abruptly from the vault, smashing the painted panels, and Two blue vases were also smashed. Then he handed me the light and I put it in the car. Did I not say that Dr. Renard is worth a friend?"
"You're right," said Syme gravely, hanging the heavy iron lamp over the front of the car.The contrast between the modern car and the weird priest lights clearly symbolizes their overall situation.So far, they have passed through the quietest part of the town, encountering at most one or two pedestrians, and the pedestrians have not been able to suggest peace or hostility to them.However, at this moment, those houses began to be illuminated one by one, making them feel more clearly that there were real people living in them.Dr. Bull turned to face the new detective who had led their escape, allowing himself a natural, friendly smile.
"These lights make people feel more cheerful."
Inspector Ratcliffe frowned.
"There's only one light that would make me happier," he said, "and that's the ones I can see at the police station on the edge of town. God let us get there in ten minutes."
Bull's fiery sanity and optimism burst out of him suddenly.
"Oh, it's all gibberish!" he exclaimed. "If you really think that ordinary people living in ordinary houses are anarchists, you must be more crazy than anarchists. If we turn around and fight these guys, the whole town will fight for us .”
"No," the other said firmly and succinctly, "the whole town will fight for them. Just wait and see."
As they talked, the professor leaned forward in sudden excitement. "What's that sound?" he asked.
"Well, I guess it's the cavalry behind us," said the colonel. "I think we're out of them."
"The cavalry behind us! No," said the professor, "it's not the sound of horses, and it's not behind us."
As he was speaking, at the end of the street ahead of them, two flashing and rattling shadows flew by.They disappear almost instantly, but everyone can see that they are cars.The professor stood up and asserted palely that they were the other two cars from Dr. Renard's garage.
"I'm telling you, it's his car," he repeated, his eyes wild, "and it's full of people in masks!"
"Absurd!" said the colonel angrily. "Dr. Renard would never give them his car."
"He may have been pushed," said Ratcliffe calmly. "The whole town fell on their side."
"You believe that," said the colonel suspiciously.
"Soon, you will all believe it." The other party said in despair and calmly.
All of a sudden, everyone was silent.The colonel said suddenly again: "No, I won't believe it. It's nonsense. A common man in a peaceful French town—"
His words were interrupted by a loud bang and a burst of bright light, both of which seemed very close.As the car sped along, it left a cloud of white smoke floating behind it, and then Syme heard a piercing gunshot.
"My God!" said the colonel, "we've been shot."
"There is no need to break the conversation," said the melancholy Ratcliffe. "Go on, Colonel. You were, I think, just talking about ordinary people in a peaceful French town."
The staring colonel paid no heed to his sarcasm, but scanned the street with his eyes.
"It's weird," he said, "very weird."
"A fussy man," said Syme, "might call it unpleasant. Still, I guess those lights in the field beside this street are the gendarmes. We'll get there soon."
"No," said Inspector Ratcliffe, "we'll never get there."
Just now he had stood up and looked eagerly ahead.Now he sat down and stroked his smooth hair wearily.
"What do you mean?" Bull asked angrily.
"I mean we're never going to get there," said the pessimist quietly. "They've put up two rows of armed men on the front of the street, and I can see them from here. As I said, the town is armed. I can only wallow in the comfort of my right words. .”
Ratcliffe sat comfortably in the car and lit a cigarette, but the others got up anxiously and looked down the road.Since their plans were already in doubt, Syme slowed the car, and at last he parked it at the corner of a side street.This small street slopes down to the sea.
Most of the town was in shadow, but the sun had not yet set, and where its steady light penetrated, it was brilliant gold.The deepest twilight was on both sides of the street, and after a few seconds they could see nothing.Syme, the sharpest-eyed, gave a bitter whistle, and said, "Indeed. There's a crowd or an army or something like that at the end of the street."
"Hey, if there was one," Bull said impatiently, "it must be something else—like a military exercise, or the mayor's birthday party, or something. I don't now, and I won't believe that a man like this Where there's happy civilians there'll be people walking around with dynamite in their pockets. Go a little farther, Syme, and let's take a closer look."
The car moved slowly forward about a hundred yards, and they were all surprised to hear Dr. Bull let out a high-pitched laugh.
"Hey, you stupid fools!" he cried, "what I told you just now. Those people are as law-abiding as cows, and if they weren't, they were on our side."
"How do you know?" asked the professor, staring at him.
"You blind bat," Bull cried, "you don't see who's leading the way?"
They took a closer look, and then the choked-up Colonel blurted out——
"Hey, that's Leonard!"
There was indeed a row of vague figures running across the road, but they couldn't see their faces clearly.In the far distance in front of him, covered by the uneven night light, was Dr. Leonard himself walking around. He wore a white hat, stroked his long brown beard, and held a revolver in his left hand.
"What a fool I am!" cried the Colonel. "The dear old fellow must have come out to help us."
said Dr. Bull, laughing excitedly, fiddling with the sword in his hand like a cane.He jumped out of the car and ran across the road, shouting—
"Dr. Leonard! Dr. Leonard!"
A moment later Syme thought his eyes had gone mad, for the kindly Dr. Renard raised his revolver and fired twice at Bull, the sound of which echoed in the road.
Almost as soon as a puff of white smoke rose from the Leonard pistol, a long puff of white smoke also spit from the mouth of the cynical Ratcliffe.Like everyone else, he was a little pale, but he was still smiling.Dr. Bull was shot twice, but only to the scalp, and he stood motionless in the middle of the road without a trace of fear, then turned very slowly and climbed into the car with two holes in his hat.
"Hey," said the smoker slowly, "what do you think now?"
"I'm thinking," Dr. Bull said clearly, "that I'm lying on my bed in Room 217 of the Peabody Building and I'm going to wake up soon. If not, I think I'm sitting in a bunk in Hanwell." In a small cell with cushions, and the doctor ignored me. But if you want to know what I wasn't thinking, I'll tell you. I wasn't thinking what you were thinking. I wasn't thinking, and I It will never occur to me that the common people are a bunch of mean modern thinkers. No, sir, I am a democrat, and I still don't believe that Sundays can convert an ordinary earth-digger or shop-clerk. No , I may be crazy, but humans are not crazy."
Syme fixed his bright blue eyes on Bull with a rare earnestness.
"You are a very good man," said he, "and you believe in reason, but not only in your own. You are quite right about mankind, about farmers and masses like that merry old shopkeeper. But You are wrong about Leonard. I doubted him from the beginning. He is rational and to make matters worse, he is rich. If responsibility and religion are really destroyed, it will be the work of the rich .”
"They're really spoiled now," said the smoker, standing up with his hands in his pockets. "The devils are coming!"
Everyone in the car looked anxiously in the direction of his blank gaze. A large group of people was coming towards them at the end of the road. Dr. Renard walked in the front angrily, his beard fluttering in the breeze.
The colonel jumped out of the car and couldn't help shouting.
"Gentlemen," he exclaimed, "this is unbelievable. It must be a hoax. If you know Leonard as I do—it's like calling Queen Victoria a bomber. If you think about his character—”
"At least Dr. Bull," said Syme sarcastically, "has got his character in the hat."
"I tell you it's impossible!" cried the colonel, stamping his foot.
"Leynard will explain, and he will explain to me." After speaking, he strode forward.
"Don't be so anxious," said the smoker slowly. "He'll explain it to all of us soon."
But the impatient colonel lost his hearing, and walked straight to the oncoming enemy.The excited Dr. Leonard raised his pistol again, but hesitated when he sensed his opponent.The colonel faced him with frantic gestures of protest.
"It's no use," said Syme. "He's definitely not going to impress that old pagan. I'd suggest driving into that dense crowd and letting the bullets go through Bull's hat as we go. We'll probably get killed, but we'll have to kill a few more of them."
"I don't agree," said Bull, his sincere virtues becoming more vulgar. "The poor fellows may be mistaken. Give the Colonel a chance."
"Are we going to back off?" the professor asked.
"No," said Ratcliffe icily, "they've got the street behind us too. In fact, I think I see your friend there, Syme."
Syme turned sharply, looking back in their path.In the darkness, a group of scattered riders was galloping towards them.On one of the front saddles he saw a sword gleaming with silver light, and then he saw the gleaming silver hair of an old man.Then, with astonishing force, Syme turned the car around and sprinted down the steep side street into the sea, like a man determined to die.
"What the hell is going on?" the professor said, grabbing his arm.
"The morning star has fallen!" said Syme, and the car slid down in the dark like a falling star.
None of the others understood him, but when they looked back at the street above they saw enemy cavalry rounding the corner and charging down the slope toward them.Riding in the front was the kind shopkeeper, whose face was flushed red by the pure night light like fire.
"The world has gone mad!" said the professor, burying his face in his hands.
"No," said Dr. Bull firmly but modestly, "I am the one who is mad."
"What do we do next?" the professor asked.
"Now," said Syme gravely and detachedly, "I think we'll hit a lamp-post next."
As soon as the words fell, the car bumped into an iron object, making a miserable and piercing collision sound.The four people in the car climbed out from under a pile of messy iron shells. A tall and thin lamp post that stood straight on the side of the seaside shopping street was twisted like a broken tree.
"Well, we bumped into something," said the professor, smiling slightly. "That's reassuring."
"You're becoming an anarchist," said Syme, dusting his clothes.
"Everyone is," Ratcliffe said.
As soon as the words fell, the white-haired rider and the horse behind him rushed over like thunder, and almost at the same time, a row of black people shouted and rushed over along the seashore.Syme grabbed one sword, held it between his teeth, put the other two under both armpits, held a fourth in his left hand, and held the lamp in his right, and leaped from the high shopping street to the bottom on the beach.
The others jumped off after him, seeming to agree with the decisive action, leaving behind the wreck of the car and the growing mob.
"We have another chance," said Syme, taking the sword from his mouth. "Whatever this chaos means, I think the police department will help us. They occupy the road, so we can't get there. But there is a pier or breakwater that juts out to sea, and we can guard it for as long as possible. Like Horatius guarding his bridge. We must guard until the gendarmerie appears. Follow me."
They followed him across the beach, and in a moment their boots were ripped not by sea-shore gravel but by broad, flat stones.They walked on the long, low breakwater, which led at one end to the dark and rough sea, and when they came to the end of the breakwater, they all felt that they had come to the end of the story.They turned to face the town.
The town is already noisy.Along the high shopping street they had just descended was a black and roaring stream of people shaking their arms, their faces full of excitement, and glaring at the direction the four men were heading.The long black thread is dotted with torches and lamps.Even if not a single angry face was illuminated by the flames, they could still see an organized hatred in the faintest gesture of the furthest man.They know it's the worst bunch, but they don't know why.
Two or three small, dark, monkey-looking figures jumped over the edge of the mall and landed on the beach.They trudged through the deep sand, shrieking horribly, and wading through the sea with effort and carelessness.Then someone followed their example, and the whole black crowd was like black molasses overflowing the street.
Foremost of the crowd on the beach, Syme saw, was the farmer who drove their wagon.He rode a large horse into the waves and swung his ax at them.
"Farmer!" cried Syme. "They haven't rebelled since the Middle Ages."
"Even if the police came now," said the professor mournfully, "they could do nothing against these mobs."
"Nonsense!" Bull said desperately. "There must be people in this town who haven't lost their humanity."
"No," said the desperate inspector, "humanity will soon be extinct. We are the last of humanity."
"Maybe!" said the professor absently.Then he continued in his ethereal voice: "What does the end of 'Dunciade' say?
"'Neither public fire nor private fire dares to shine;
"'No human light remained, nor divine glimpse!
"'Look! Thy Empire of Terror, Chaos, is back again;
"'The light fades before your destructive words:
"'Thy mighty hand, great leader of anarchists, let the curtain fall;
"'The omnipresent darkness buries everything.'"
"Shut up!" Bull yelled suddenly. "The Gendarmerie is on the move."
The low lights of the police station were dimmed and fragmented by the hurried figures, and they heard the sonorous and crisp sound of a well-trained cavalry team coming from the darkness.
"They're attacking the mob!" screamed Bull, perhaps in ecstasy or terror.
"No," said Syme, "they lined up in the street."
"They're taking their carbines," cried Bull, dancing with excitement.
"Yes," said Ratcliffe, "and they're going to open fire on us."
As he spoke, there was a long clatter of rifle shots, and the bullets danced like hailstones on the stones in front of them.
"The gendarmerie joined them!" cried the professor, patting his forehead.
"I'm in the soft-walled ward," Bull said firmly.
After a long silence, Ratcliffe opened his mouth. He looked at the rising sea which was a kind of grayish purple.
"What does it matter who's mad and who's not? We're all going to die soon."
Syme turned to him and said, "You're desperate, aren't you?"
Mr. Ratcliffe was as silent as a stone, and finally he said calmly: "No, it's strange, I'm not desperate. I can't help thinking of a crazy little wish. The power of the whole planet is against us, but I still wonder if this silly little wish has come to naught."
"Is your wish about something, or someone?" asked Syme curiously.
"It's about someone I've never met," he finished, gazing out to sea.
"I know what you mean," said Syme in a low voice, "the man in the dark room. But Sunday must have done him by now."
"Perhaps," said the other quietly, "if that's the case, he's the only one who finds it hard to kill on a Sunday."
"I heard what you said." The professor turned around and said. "I'm also fascinated by things I've never seen before."
Syme, who had just stood lost in thought, turned suddenly and cried, "Where's the Colonel? I thought he was with us!"
"Colonel! Yes," said Bull. "Where the hell is Colonel?"
"He went to talk to Leonard," said the professor.
"We can't leave him among those brutes," said Syme, "let's die like gentlemen if—"
"Don't pity the Colonel," said Ratcliffe with a pale sneer. "He's very comfortable. He—"
"No! No! No!" cried Syme furiously. "He's not like that! I'll never believe it!"
"Can you believe your eyes?" asked the other, pointing to the beach.
Many of the pursuers were pumping their fists in the water, but rough seas prevented them from reaching the pier.However, two or three figures stood on the gravel path, seeming to be walking carefully.An unexpected lantern illuminated the faces of the first two figures.A black mask half-covered one face, the mouth beneath was contorted with maddened nerves, and the black beard twisted like a restless living thing.The other face, red with a white mustache, was that of Colonel Ducloet.They are discussing seriously.
"Yes, he has left us too," said the professor, and sat down on a rock. "It's all gone from us. I'm leaving too! I can't trust my physical machine anymore. I feel like I'm going to throw my own hand up and hit myself."
"If my hand goes up," said Syme, "it'll hit somebody." He strode up the pier to the colonel, sword in one hand, lamp in the other.
As if to dispel the last hope or doubt, the colonel saw him approaching, aimed his revolver at him, and fired.The bullet missed Syme, but caught his sword, which snapped off the hilt.Syme rushed forward, waving the iron lamp over his head.
"Judas before Herod!" he said, and knocking the colonel down on the stone, he turned to the secretary.The secretary was frothing terribly, and Syme held the lamp aloft in a firm and striking gesture.
"Did you see this lamp?" cried Syme in a hideous voice. "Have you seen the cross engraved on the lamp and the flame inside it? You did not create it, you did not light it. People wiser than you have faith and integrity, and they opened the inside of the iron to preserve the legendary fire. Every street you walk, every thread you wear, was created, like this lamp, by negating your dirty rat philosophy. You can't create anything, you can only destroy Everything. You will destroy mankind, you will destroy the whole world. You are satisfied with that. But you will never destroy this ancient Christian beacon. Where it is going, your ape empire will never find it."
The reaction of Syme hitting the secretary with the iron lamp caused his body to shake a few times. Then, he raised the iron lamp over his head and spun twice, and threw it far into the sea. The iron lamp fell like a roaring rocket. up.
"Sword!" cried Syme, turning his excited face on the three men behind him. "Let us attack these brutes, our time has come."
Three of Syme's companions behind him held swords, and when the sword was broken he snatched a club from a fisherman and threw him down.Just when they were about to pounce on the mob and embark on the road to death, they were suddenly interrupted.After listening to Syme's words, the secretary who had been standing there blankly covered his injured head with his hand, and at that moment, he suddenly tore off his black mask.
The pale face exposed in the light had an expression more of surprise than anger.He raised a hand eagerly and majestically.
"There is a misunderstanding," said he. "Mr. Syme, I suppose you know very little of your situation. I arrest you in the name of the law."
"In the name of the law?" repeated Syme, dropping his stick.
"Of course!" said the secretary. "I'm a detective from Scotland Yard." He took a small blue card from his pocket.
"Then who do you think we are?" asked the professor, holding up his hands.
"You," said the secretary forcefully, "are, as far as I know, members of the Anarchist Supreme Council. By posing as one of you, I—"
Doctor Bull threw his sword into the sea.
"The Anarchist Supreme Council absolutely doesn't exist," he said. "We're all a bunch of dumb cops staring at each other. And all these good guys who are shooting at us think we're bomb assassins. I knew that before, I was right about the crowds," he said, beaming as he looked at the large crowd that stretched out on either side. "A vulgar man never goes mad. I'm vulgar myself, so I know. I'm going ashore now to buy everybody here a drink."
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