Chapter 50 Chapter Forty-Nine

(Moncus meets Mr. Brownlow at last, and records their conversation and the news which interrupted it.) Dusk was just beginning to fall when Mr. Brownlow alighted in his cab at his own door.He knocked lightly on the door.The door opened.A husky man came out of the carriage and stood on the side of the pedals. At the same time, another man who was sitting in the driver's seat also stepped down and stood on the other side.Mr. Brownlow made a sign, and they helped one out of the carriage, and hurried into the house with him side by side.This man is Monks. They ascended the stairs in the same manner without a word, Mr. Brownlow leading them into a rear room.At the door of this room, Meng Kesi, who was obviously displeased when he went upstairs, stopped.The two men looked towards Mr. Brownlow for instructions.

"He knows what to do," said Mr. Brownlow, "and if he hesitates, or behaves in disobedience to your orders, drag him into the street, get the help of the police, and denounce him as a felon in my name. '" "How dare you say that about me?" Meng Kesi asked. "How dare you make me do this, young man?" asked Mr. Brownlow, facing him sternly. "Are you mad to try to get out of this house? Let him go. Come, sir, You can go, we will follow. But I warn you, I swear by everything that is most solemn and sacred in my heart, I will charge you with fraud and robbery as soon as you put one foot in the street. , arrest you. I have made up my mind, and I will do what I say. If you really plan to do that, then you will have to blame yourself."

"Who authorized these two dogs to kidnap me on the street and bring them here?" Meng Kesi asked the two people standing beside him one by one. "My authority," replied Mr. Brownlow, "these two are my responsibility. If you complain that your liberty has been taken away--you had a right and an opportunity to restore it on the way here, but you still think that silence is the Wonderful—I repeat, you can seek the protection of the law, and I can ask the law to punish you. However, when you reach a point where you can't end, don't come to ask me for mercy. At that time, the right is no longer in my hands. It has to be decided by others, don’t jump into the abyss by yourself and say that I pushed you into it.”

Meng Kesi was clearly torn and panicked.He hesitated. "Make up your mind quickly," said Mr. Brownlow, with great firmness and composure, "if you wish me to make a public accusation and bring you to justice—I repeat, the way is not unknown to you, though I am not. and I tremble at the thought of what you will be punished--then there is nothing I can do. If not, you beg me to spare you and ask forgiveness of those you have hurt so deeply, and sit down Get up on that chair and don't say a word, it's been waiting for you for two whole days." Meng Kesi muttered a few words, but no one could understand.He is still hesitating.

"Take your time," said Mr. Brownlow. "I have only one word to say, and the chance of choice is gone forever." The man is still undecided. "I don't like to haggle with people," said Mr. Brownlow. "Besides, I'm looking after other people's vital interests, and I have no right to do so." "So—" Meng Kesi stammered, "so—there is no compromise?" "No." Meng Kesi looked at the old gentleman with anxious eyes, and saw only sternness and determination in the other's expression.He walked into the room, shrugged, and sat down.

"Lock the door from the outside," said Mr. Brownlow to his two attendants, "and come in when I ring the bell." The two retreated in response, leaving Mr. Brownlow and Monks alone. "Sir," said Moncus, throwing off his hat and cloak, "excellent hospitality, and this is my father's dearest friend." "Because I was your father's dearest friend, young man," replied Mr. Brownlow, "and just because the hopes and aspirations of my happy youth were bound up with him, and with the man who was with him. Lovely one of fellow-blood, bound together, she went back to God at a young age, and left me here alone, for he knelt with me that morning on his knees Next to the coffin of my only sister, when he was still a child, and his sister was going to be my wife—but God had other arrangements. Because since then, my withered heart And was chained to him till his death, in spite of all his trials and all his blunders. For my mind is so full of old memories and friendships that even the sight of you brings back my love for him. Missed. For all these reasons, until now—yes, Edward Lefort, even now—I cannot help being so polite to you, and blushing because you have dishonored the name."

"What does that have to do with surnames?" asked the other after a while, after he had been silently watching the excited old gentleman, while obstinately expressing his bewilderment. "What does this surname have to do with me?" "Never mind," replied Mr. Brownlow, "it has nothing to do with you, but it is her name, too, and I, an old man, will be as I was when I heard it mentioned by a stranger, though the time has passed. A warm face and a beating heart. I'm very glad—very happy—very happy that you've changed your name." "It's all very well," said Monks (whose alias will remain here) after a long silence, sulking sullenly and nonchalantly, while Mr Brownlow sat with his face covered in his hands. . "What do you want from me?"

"You have a brother," said Mr. Brownlow, cheering up, "a brother, whose name I came up behind you in the street, and whispered his name, and almost by that alone you could not stand Come here with me nervously." "I don't have a brother," Monks replied. "You know I'm an only son. Why did you tell me about a brother? You and I both know that." "You will do well to hear that there are things which I know well which you may not," said Mr. Brownlow, "and I have a way of interesting you. I know that your unfortunate father was a boy, You are the only and extremely unnatural result of an unhappy marriage forced by family notions and the dirtiest and narrowest vanity."

"Your words are ugly, but I don't care," Meng Kesi laughed mockingly, and interjected, "You know the situation, and that's enough for me." "But I also learned," went on the old gentleman, "that that accidental union produced disaster, chronic torment, and unending distress. I knew that the unhappy couple had heavy chains each. , how wearisome it is to pass the day, it is harmful to both people. I know how the cold superficial relationship can turn into open insults, how the indifference gives way to disgust, which turns into hatred, hatred Then it becomes a curse, until at last the ringing chain is torn, and they go their separate ways, each with a hateful chain that only death can break, and both of them pretending to be terribly happy It looks like a chain, thinking of changing the environment and preventing others from seeing the chain. Your mother has done it and soon forgot about it. But after many years, that thing is still rusting and rotting in your father's heart."

"By the way, they separated," Meng Kesi said, "so what?" "They lived apart for a period," replied Mr. Brownlow. "Your mother indulged in pleasure on the continent of Europe and completely forgot about her young husband, who was ten years younger than her, while your father, seeing no hope of future, has been wandering in the country and made a group of new friends. At least, this point you I know." "I don't know," Meng Kesi said, turning his eyes to one side, tapping one foot on the ground, and pretending to be in denial. "I have no idea."

"Your manner assures me as much as your conduct that, far from forgetting it, you never forget it," replied Mr. Brownlow. "I mean fifteen years ago, when you were only eleven years old, and your father was only thirty-one—I repeat, he was a boy when he was married at his father's behest. Do you want me to repeat the events that clouded your father's reputation, or do I not , will you tell me the truth yourself?" "I have nothing to say," replied Moncus, "you can tell me what you want, if you like." "Of that group of new friends at the time," said Mr. Brownlow, "was a retired naval officer whose wife had died about six months before, leaving behind two children--several earlier, but luckily only two. Both are daughters, one is a beautiful nineteen-year-old girl, and the other is only three or two years old." "What does this have to do with me?" Monks asked. "They live in the country," Mr. Brownlow seemed not to have heard the interjection. "Your father also came to that area in hesitation and settled there. As a result, the two sides soon became acquainted, approached and developed friendship. Your father Few people can match his talent, and their siblings are very similar in bearing and appearance. The old officer is getting to know him better and liking him more and more. It would be good if things stopped here. The eldest daughter Like my father, I like him more and more." The old gentleman paused for a moment. Seeing Monks biting his lip and keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, he immediately went on to say: "By the end of the year, he made a marriage contract with that daughter, made a solemn marriage contract, and won the heart of that innocent girl. It was her first and only sincere and passionate love." "Your story is really long enough." Meng Kesi said, fidgeting on the chair. "This true story is full of sorrow and misery and misfortune, young man," replied Mr. Brownlow, "as such stories usually do. If it is a story of pure joy and happiness, it is short. Later, one of your family A rich relative passed away, and in order to consolidate his interests and status, he took your father as a sacrifice, just like other people often encounter-this is not a rare case-to make up for the misfortune caused by him alone, He left your father with the elixir he thought would cure all suffering—money. Your father must go to Rome at once. The man went to Rome to recuperate, but died there, and his affairs suddenly became a mess. Your father had gone, and had contracted a fatal disease there. As soon as the news reached Paris, your mother took you with her, and the day she arrived, your father died without leaving a will—without a will— So all the property falls into the hands of your mother and son." At this point in the story, Monks held his breath and listened intently, even though his eyes were not directly on the speaker.Mr. Brownlow stopped talking, and Monks changed his posture and wiped his hot face and hands. This is how a person suddenly feels relieved. "He passed through London before he went abroad," said Mr. Brownlow slowly, looking intently into the other's face. "He came to see me." "I've never heard of that." Meng Kesi interjected, intending to show that the words were not credible, but instead it showed that he felt more of an unpleasant surprise. "He came to me and left some things, among them a portrait--a portrait he had drawn himself--of that poor girl, which he did not like to leave The law was with me. He was emaciated under anxiety and regret. He was restless and incoherent. He talked about the disaster and shame he had caused, and confided to me that he would sell all his property for cash at any cost. Just wait until the formalities are completed, and a part of the newly acquired inheritance be awarded to you mother and son, and leave England from then on-I fully expected that he will not go away alone-never come back. Although I am an old friend of his, our friendship has grown deep Rooted deep in this land, there is buried here a man who was dearest to each other—even to me, who did not pour out his heart any further, but only agreed to write and tell me everything, saying Will come to see me afterwards, for the last time alive, ah! That is the last time in itself. I haven't received a letter, and I haven't seen him again." "When it was all over," said Mr. Brownlow, after a little pause, "I went to the place where he had made that debt--I may use the common expression of the world, because the world's harshness or generosity treats He is no different—I made up my mind that if my fears come true, I will also let that lost girl find a home where she can live and a heart that can sympathize with her. The family is already in Moved away a week ago, they settled all outstanding debts—even if they were small, and the family left the place one night. For what reason, or where they went, no one can say .” Meng Kesi breathed a sigh of relief, and looked back with a triumphant smile. "Your brother," said Mr. Brownlow, moving his chair closer to him, "your brother, a thin, shabby, despised boy, pushed by a hand stronger than chance He came to me, and I rescued him from a life of sin and shame—" "What?" Monks yelled. "I got him out," said Mr. Brownlow. "Didn't I just say that I would soon interest you. Yes, I got him out—I understand, your cunning My accomplice concealed my name, although he didn't care who you heard or not. He was rescued by me at the time, and he was living in my house to recuperate. The girl in the painting he and I talked about earlier The resemblance astonished me. Even when I first saw him, in spite of his filth and wretchedness, there was an expression on his face that I found suddenly, as if in a vivid dream. The figure of an old friend. I don't need to tell you that he was kidnapped before I found out what happened to him—" "Why don't you tell me?" Meng Kesi hurriedly asked. "Because you know it well." "I" "It is useless to deny it to your face," replied Mr. Brownlow, "and I will let you see that I know more than that." "You—you—can't prove anything against me," Monks stammered. "I'm not that good at measuring you." "We'll see," replied the old gentleman, giving him a sharp look, "I've lost the boy, and in spite of all my efforts I have not been able to find him. Your mother is dead, I know, and only you can You are alone in solving this mystery. The last time I heard from you, you were in the West Indies, staying on your own estate--you know very well that you retired there after the death of your mother , to escape the consequences of all the evils done here—I crossed the sea, and you left there months ago, probably to London, but no one knew where. I returned Come back. Several of your agents don’t know where you live either. They say you come and go as mysteriously as ever—sometimes for days at a time, sometimes for months—seemingly constant Hang out in those dirty places, hang out with those unscrupulous fellows with whom you've had flings since you were a lawless kid. I've asked them again and again, and even they I'm bored. I walked up and down the street day and night, and until two hours ago all my efforts were fruitless, and I never once saw you." "You really see me now," Meng Kesi stood up boldly, "so what? Fraud and robbery are big crimes—you think, you imagine, that a kid looks like a dead man It can be proved that some random pictures look alike? Just say that I have a younger brother. You can’t even tell whether that couple has had children, you can’t tell at all.” "I really didn't know," said Mr. Brownlow, also standing up, "but I've found out all about it in the past fortnight. You have a brother. You know about it, and know him. The will was There were, too, destroyed by your mother, who, on her deathbed, bequeathed the secret and the benefits to you. The will mentions a child, who may become the product of this sad union, who later became was born, and you ran into him by accident, and the first thing that aroused your suspicion was his resemblance to his father. You have been to his birthplace. There are proofs of his birth and blood there— The evidence has been suppressed for a long time. You destroyed the evidence, and we will use what you said to the Jew who joined you for now.' The few pieces of evidence that can identify the child fell to the The bottom of the river is gone, and the old hag who got it from his mother is rotting in her coffin. 'Unworthy son, coward, liar—you, plotting in the dark with a gang of thieves and murderers in a back room— You, your plots and tricks caused a girl a million times better than you to die—you, you broke the heart of your biological father since childhood, evil thoughts, sins, lust, all festered in you until they To find outlet in a terrible morbidity which turns even your face into a microcosm of your soul—you, Edward Lefort, dare you stand against me?" "No, no, no!" said the coward repeatedly, and he was finally overwhelmed by the other party's enumeration of accusations. "Every word!" snapped the old gentleman, "I know every word between you and that damned scoundrel. The shadow on the wall heard your whispers, and carried them to my ears." The sight of that child being abused disenchants even a fallen girl, giving her courage and almost virtue. The murder has been committed, and even if you were not actually complicit, you are morally bound guilt." "No, no," Meng Kesi quickly denied, "I don't know anything about that. I was just trying to find out what was going on, but you arrested me. I don't know the reason, Think of it as an ordinary quarrel." "This is but a part of your secret," replied Mr. Brownlow; "will you tell it all?" "Yes I do." "Would you like to write a statement of the facts and read it in front of witnesses?" "I agree to that too." "You stay here honestly, wait for the record to be written, and go with me to the most appropriate place for notarization, how about it?" "If you must do that, I will do it." Meng Kesi replied. "You have to do more than that," said Mr. Brownlow. "You have to make reparations to a child who has nothing to do but is the victim of an innocent victim, indeed, though he is the product of a bad debt. You have not forgotten The terms of the will. You must carry out the terms concerning your brother, and then go where you please. You will never meet again in this world." Monks paced back and forth with a gloomy and treacherous expression. He was deliberating this proposal and also wanted to see if he could find another way out. He was surrounded by fear and hatred.The door is hastily opened, and a gentleman (Mr. Rothberleigh) enters the room with great excitement. "That man is about to be arrested," he cried, "tonight." "Is it the murderer?" asked Mr. Brownlow. "Yes, yes," answered the doctor, "if anyone sees his dog prowling about a certain lair, there seems no doubt that the owner is either already there, or intends to go there in the dark. The spies are looking in every direction. I have spoken to those who were ordered to capture him, and they tell me he cannot escape. The government has offered a reward of one hundred pounds this evening." "If I can get there in time, I'll add fifty more, and announce it myself," said Mr. Brownlow. "Where is Mr. Maylie?" "Harry, you say? As soon as he saw that this friend of yours was plain and in the same carriage as you, he hurried off to the place where he heard the news," answered the doctor, "and he rode straight Suburbs, where they agreed to join the first search party." "And Fagin, how is he?" said Mr. Brownlow. "I just heard that he hasn't been caught, but he can't get away. Maybe he has been caught by this time. They're pretty sure of him." "Have you made up your mind?" asked Mr. Brownlow in a low voice to Monks. "Decided," he replied. "Can you—you—can you keep it a secret for me?" "I will keep it a secret. You stay here until I come back. This is your only hope of safety." They left the room and the door was locked again. "How are you doing?" the doctor asked in a whisper. "I have done everything I could hope to do, and even surpassed it. I have not left any information about the news reported by that poor girl, combined with what I have seen and heard before, and our good friend's on-site investigation. With these facts, the situation becomes as clear as daylight. You write to everyone and meet at seven o'clock in the evening the day after tomorrow. We must be in that place a few hours early, and we still need Rest and rest—that lady in particular, who needs composure so badly that you and I can't imagine it right now. My blood is boiling to avenge the poor girl who was murdered. Which way did they go?" "You go straight to the police station before you have time," replied Mr. Rosbery. "I'm staying here." The two gentlemen parted hastily, each other too excited to contain their excitement.