Chapter 27 haunted house

A friend of mine, who is a writer and philosopher, told me one day, half-jokingly, half-seriously: “How funny! After we broke up last time, I found a haunted house in central London. " "Is it really haunted? What is it—ghosts?" "Oh, I can't answer that question. All I know is this: Six weeks ago, my wife and I were looking around for a furnished apartment. As we were crossing a quiet street, we saw the window of a house There was a sign on it: 'Apartment for rent fully furnished'. It was just the right thing for us. We walked into the house and immediately liked it, so we rented it for a week, but we left on the third day .There is no power in the world that would allow my wife to live there any longer, and I feel the same way."

"Did you see something?" "I'm sorry, I don't want you to laugh at me for being suspicious. On the other hand, I don't want you to accept my opinion out of thin air. If you don't experience it yourself, you will think I'm gullible. I just want to tell you one thing: let us The reason for staying away was not just because of what we saw and heard there (you have every reason to think that we were hallucinating from feverishness or being deceived by others), but because, every time when Both of us felt a heartfelt pang of inexplicable terror when we passed an unfurnished house, though we could neither see nor hear anything.

"One of the most wonderful things is that for the first time in my life, I agree with my wife. Although my wife is a stupid woman, I agree on the third night that I will not live until the fourth anyway. night. "So, on the morning of the fourth day, I called the housemaid who was in charge of the house and took care of us, and told her that we were not quite used to this house, and that we would not live until the end of the week. She said indifferently: "'I know why, you've stayed longer than the rest of the guests, and few people have stayed till the second night, and none have stayed the third night except you. But I think , because they are quite polite to you.'”

"'They—who are they?' I asked, making a smile. "'Why, the ones who haunt the house: whoever they are, I don't care for them. I knew them years ago, when I lived in this room. I wasn't a servant then. But I know they're going to kill me one day. I don't care, I'm old, anyway, I'm going to die soon, and then I can be with them, in this house. ' “I was in awe of the woman’s flat, muffled tone and put me off any further conversations with her. I paid a week’s rent and my wife and I were so happy that we got away so cheaply .” "You have piqued my curiosity," I said, "and my favorite thing is to sleep in a haunted house. Give me the address—the address of the house you fled in disgrace." "

My friend left me the address.After we broke up, I went straight to the apartment. It sits north of Oxford Street, on a dull but respectable avenue.The door of the apartment was closed, and there was no notice posted on the windows. I knocked on the door, but no one answered.As I turned to leave, a little boy who was picking up tin cans nearby said to me, "Are you looking for someone in this house, sir?" "Yes, I heard the house is for rent." "Rent! Oh, the housekeeper is dead, and she's been dead for three weeks. No one wants to stay in the house, despite Mr. Gee's high bid. My mother is his handyman, and he promised to pay her every Pounds on Monday, and my mother wouldn't mind if she opened the window to get some air."

"I don't want to! Why is that?" "The house is haunted. The housekeeper was found dead in her bed, her eyes wide open. They said the devil strangled her." "Hey! You're talking about Mr. Gee. Is he the landlord?" "yes." "Where does he live?" "Somewhere on G Street." "What does he do? Does he do business?" "No, sir, he's nothing special, just an ordinary gentleman." I tipped the little boy for his generosity of information, and went to Mr. Gee's place on G Street.That place was not far from a street that had acquired a reputation for haunted houses.I was lucky enough to meet Mr. Ji at home.He was old, shrewd-looking, and well-mannered.

I stated my name and occupation directly, and added that I had heard rumors that the house was haunted, and that I should very much like to see for myself the much-disputed house.I would be grateful if he would let me live in the house, even for one night; whatever rent he needs, I will pay. "Sir," said Mr. Ji politely, "you can use the house as long as you like. The rent is no problem. Those strange things that have happened recently have made this house worthless. If you can find out the Why, it's too late for me to thank. The house can't be rented, because I can't even find a servant to tidy it up, or answer the door.

"Unfortunately, the house is haunted (if I may use that word) day and night, only more disturbing and sometimes creepy at night. The poor old lady three weeks Died in that house before, she was adopted from the reformatory school, because she was involved with my family when she was a child, and she used to rent the house of my uncle's house when her family was good. Strong, the only one who listened to me and stayed in that house. In fact, after her sudden death, the coroner went around and made the house notorious to the neighbors, so I gave up , I don’t plan to find another housekeeper, let alone someone who will rent it. If someone pays local and national taxes, I would like to rent it to him for free for a year.”

"Since when did this house begin to behave like this?" "I can't say for sure, but it's been years. The old maid I mentioned earlier said the house was haunted when she rented it thirty or forty years ago. Actually, I've worked for the East India Company all my life." . "I came back to England last year to inherit my uncle's estate, and the house was part of it. I found the door closed and unoccupied. I was told that the house was haunted and no one wanted to live in it. It sounds like It sounded like nonsense, so I laughed it off. "I spent some money repainting the walls and fixing the roof and adding a lot of new touches to the old furniture, then I advertised and got a lodger for a year. He was a colonel, Retired on half salary. He dragged his family into the house. He had a son, a daughter, and four or five servants. The next day, they all moved out. The sights vary, but they are all equally terrible. The colonel broke the lease, but I can't blame him, or even reproach him.

"Then, I asked the old lady mentioned earlier to look at the house and authorized her to rent it out. However, no guest stayed there for more than three days. I have told their stories, but the same phenomenon Definitely not repeated with the two tenants. You'd better think about it for yourself before you move in with prejudice, but you have to be prepared, you're bound to hear or see something, and be sure to take precautions .” "Have you never been a little curious yourself to think of spending the night in that house?" "Oh, I lived, not for a night, but for three hours, in broad daylight, alone in that house. My curiosity, instead of being satisfied, was extinguished. I never You know, sir, you can't complain that I'm not being frank; unless you have a particularly strong interest, and your will is uncommonly strong. I advise you, sincerely, not to be in the It's good to spend the night there."

"I am indeed very interested," I said, "though only a coward would brag about his will blindly in the face of a completely unfamiliar environment, but my will has already been tempered in countless dangers, and I can completely rely on it." It, even in a haunted house." Mr. Ji stopped talking, he took out the room key from the closet and handed it to me.I expressed my heartfelt thanks for his frankness and gentle concession, and left with the key in hand as if I had found a treasure. I was eager to try it out early, and as soon as I got home I summoned my valet, a young man of lively nature, fearless, and not superstitious. "Fah," I said, "that year we were in that old German castle that was said to be haunted by ghosts, and we were downcast because we didn't meet a headless ghost, you remember. Oh, I heard there were A house is haunted, and I have reason to believe it is. I want to live there tonight. From what I've heard, I'm sure to see or hear something tonight, which might be quite frightening. If I Take you with me, if something happens, can you be relied on?" "Oh, sir, please believe me," said Foo, grinning happily. "Very well. Here are the keys to the house and here is the address. You come over now and pick out a bedroom you like. Also, the house has not been occupied for weeks, and you turn on the fireplace. Well, ventilate the bed, and get candles and fuel ready. Take my revolver and cutlass, I'll have both, and you'll be well armed; and if we're no match for so many ghosts, we'll have to think we're Two unlucky Brits." The rest of the day, too busy with urgent business, had no time to dwell on the nocturnal expedition on which I pledged my honor.I eat alone very late and read a book while eating, which is an old habit of mine.I chose an essay by Macaulay to read.I resolved to take this book with me, too, for its healthy style, its simplicity of subject matter, wards off superstition and madness. Then, at about half-past nine, with the book in my pocket, I walked leisurely towards the haunted house.I brought my favorite dog.It is extremely agile, courageous and ferocious, and likes to catch mice in strange corners or passages at night.When it comes to taking on ghosts, there's no better dog. It was a cool summer night, and the sky was covered with dark clouds, which made it look a bit dim. However, the moon was still hanging in the sky, and the moonlight was dim.If the clouds clear by midnight, it will be a little brighter. I went to the door of the house, knocked, and the servant opened it with a smile on his face. "Everything is in order, sir, and very comfortable." "Oh!" I asked him, very disappointed. "Did you see or hear anything special?" "Yes, sir, I must confess that I heard some strange noises." "what is what?" "There was a patter of footsteps behind me, and a whisper or two in my ear, and nothing else." "Aren't you scared at all?" "Me? Not at all, sir." The boldness of the man's face reassured me at least one thing, and that was that, whatever happened, he would not leave me. We were in the hall, the door to the street was closed.My attention turned to the dog, which at first ran in excitedly, then crouched behind the door, scratching its paws and whining lowly, trying to get out.I patted it on the head and encouraged it softly, and it seemed to have adjusted to its surroundings, following me and Foo across the house, just sticking to my feet—every time I went to a strange place , it always rushes to open the way ahead. We first looked at the basement, kitchen and other rooms, focusing on the cellar.In the cellar we found two or three bottles of wine in boxes covered with cobwebs, apparently untouched for years.It can be seen that these ghosts are not addicted to alcohol. After this, we didn't find anything interesting.At the back of the house there was a small dark courtyard surrounded by a high wall, the stones in the courtyard were slightly damp, and the passage was covered with dust and soot.When we walked by, we left a line of faint footprints. It was here that I discovered the first strange thing. I saw a footprint suddenly appearing just in front of me.I stopped, grabbed my servant, and showed him.Suddenly another appeared in front of that footprint.Both of us saw it.I walked forward quickly, and the footprints were still in front of me-this is the foot of a child.The footprints are very vague, and the shape can hardly be discerned, but we can all see that it is a bare foot. When we got to the opposite wall, the footprint disappeared, and when we returned it didn't reappear.We went up to the second floor, where there was a dining room, a guest room, and a smaller room, probably for the servants, all of which was dead silent. We took another look at the living room and it looked brand new.I sat down in an armchair in the vestibule, and Foo put a lighted candle on the table.I told him to close the door.As he turned, a chair across from me slid silently and swiftly over the wall and stopped a yard away, facing me. "Ho! This is better than a spinning table." I laughed, and as soon as I laughed, the dog raised its head and barked. Fr came back, he hadn't seen the chair move, he was busy trying to quiet the pup.I continued to stare at the chair, and I seemed to see a blue-gray figure, the outline was so vague that I couldn't believe my vision.At this time, the dog quieted down. "Put back the chair across from me," I said to F. "Put it back against the wall." Fred complied. "Is that you, master?" he said, turning hastily. "What's wrong with me?" "Oh, something tapped me, hard on my shoulder, right here." "Not me," I said, "but some jugglers are coming, and though we may not be able to catch them, we must catch 'em before they frighten us." We did not stay long in the drawing room, and in fact the place was dank and cold, and I preferred to sit upstairs by the fire.We locked the parlor door, as one of the same precautions we took when we checked every room downstairs. The servants selected for me the best bedroom upstairs, which was spacious and had two windows facing the street.The four-poster bed didn't take up much room, and it faced a roaring fire.In the left wall between the bed and the window there is a door leading directly to the servants' bedroom.The house was small, with only a sofa bed.There was no other way of accessing the corridor than the door leading to my room. On either side of the fireplace stood a cupboard, unlocked, set into the wall and covered with dun paper.We checked two cupboards, and there were only a few hooks for women to hang their clothes—nothing else.We knocked on the wall, solid, this is the outer wall of the house. Having inspected these rooms, I warmed myself by the stove, lit a cigar, and continued my reconnaissance, accompanied by Vaughan.There was another door at the entrance of the corridor, which was tightly closed. "Master," the servant said in amazement, "I opened this door. When I first came, I opened all the doors. This door cannot be locked from the inside, because it is—" Before he could finish his sentence, the door opened without a sound, and none of us touched it.We exchanged glances, and the same thought seized our heads: there must be someone inside.I rushed in first, and the servant followed closely behind me. It was a small empty house, without any belongings, and some empty boxes and large baskets were piled up in the corner.One small window was tightly shut—there was not even a fireplace, no other doors, and no carpet on the floor.The floor looked very worn, uneven, moth-eaten and patched here and there, like white spots on trees.However, there was no one in the house, and there was no place where anyone could hide. As we stood there looking around, the door closed again as quietly as it had opened at the beginning: we were in prison. For the first time, I felt a wave of indescribable terror.My servants are very different. "Why, they don't try to lock us up, master. I'll kick that sham door through with a kick." "Let's push it with your hands first." I got rid of the momentary timidity and said, "Let me open the blinds and see what's going on outside." I opened the window, and outside the window was the small backyard mentioned earlier.There were no ledges outside; nothing but a high bare wall.If someone went out of the window, only footprints could be left on the stone slabs in the yard. Meanwhile, Foo was still trying in vain to open the door.He turned to me, asking for force.Here I must say, to do justice to the composure, coolness, and vivacity of my servant's nature in so unusual a situation, that I must admit that I am greatly admired, and I am glad that I have found the most suitable companion.I fully agree with his request.However, although he was very strong, it was still in vain; he punched and kicked with all his strength, but the door did not budge. He stopped panting.I also went up and pushed the door to try, but to no avail.I gave up trying, and that sense of terror hit my heart again, only this time, it was more chilling and irresistible.I felt a strange and terrible smell emanating from the cracks in the dilapidated floorboards. This smell contained poison and was malicious to people, permeating the air. At this moment, the door opened slowly and silently, as if by itself.We hurried up the stairs.We both saw a gigantic dim light - the size of a human body, but formless - moving before us, ascending the stairs to the attic. I follow this light and shadow, and the servant follows me.It went into the small attic to the right of the stairs, and the door to the attic was open.At the same moment, I also entered the attic door.The light and shadow shrunk into a small ball, brightly colored and shining.It rested on the bed in the corner for a while, trembling, and disappeared. We went to the bed, examined it carefully, and found that it had only half a cover—the most common bed for servants in attics.Standing on the bedside table next to it was an old faded silk handkerchief with the needle still stuck in it.The handkerchief was covered with dust. It may have belonged to the old lady who died here not long ago, and this may be her bedroom. I opened the drawer very curiously, and there were some ornaments on women's clothes and two letters tied with thin dark yellow threads.I took the liberty of putting the letter away.We found nothing else of note in the room, nor did the light reappear; but, as we turned to leave, we distinctly heard the tramp of footsteps just ahead of us. We walked through the attic (four rooms in all), footsteps all the way ahead of us.Nothing to be seen; nothing but the sound of footsteps.I had the letter in my hand, and just as I was going down the stairs, I became distinctly aware that someone had grabbed my wrist, and then a faint, gentle force tried to wrest the letter from my hand.I squeezed them harder until the force gave up the effort. We managed to get back to the bedroom when we noticed that the dog hadn't followed us when we left.It was arched in the fireplace, trembling all over.I couldn't wait to open the letters, and while I was reading them, the servant opened the little case that contained our weapons, took out the weapons I had asked him to bring, put them on a table next to my bed, and walked over Soothe the dog, but the dog doesn't care much about him. The letters were short and dated—clearly dated thirty-five years ago.The letters were apparently written by a lover to his mistress or from a husband to his young wife.The wording of the letter, and the express reference to the voyage, all indicate that its author had been a seaman.The spelling and handwriting of the words are that of an ill-educated person, but there is a compelling force in the words.In the expression of eroticism there is a wild and feverish emotion.However, the whole text is full of obscure argots, indicating some kind of secret-not about love, but about crime, it seems. "We have to love each other because, if this goes public, we'll all be damned." I remember one of those lines. And another: "Don't stay in the same room with anyone at night—you talk in your sleep." In addition, there is another sentence that goes like this: "The water cannot be recovered. I say to you, there is no power to hinder us, except that the dead will be raised." Below this line, there is a line of beautiful handwriting (in a woman's handwriting): "They really are!" At the end of the last letter, in the same woman's handwriting, read: "Disappeared at sea on the Fourth of July, on the same day—" I put down the letter and began to ponder its contents. Fearing, however, that my thoughts would creep into corners that would unsettle my will, I decided to maintain a state of moderation for the possible miracles of the coming night.I put the letter on the table, stood up, stoked the blazing fire, and opened Macaulay's anthology. Until about half past eleven, I was still reading quietly.Then I got into bed with my clothes on, and told the servant that he could go back to his room and rest, but not sleep.I told him to leave the door between the two bedrooms open.In this way, I did not extinguish the two candles on the bedside table.I put my watch next to my weapon and read Macaulay calmly again.Right across from me, the fire was burning brightly.The puppy lay quietly on the rug in front of the hearth, as if asleep.After about twenty minutes, I felt a biting cold wind blowing across my cheeks, like a sudden draft.I thought the door to the landing on the right was open; but no, it was closed. Turning my gaze to the left, I saw the candle flame swaying violently as if blown by the wind.At the same moment, the watch next to the pistol slipped gently off the table—softly, gently, and disappeared into an invisible hand.I sprang out of bed, clutching the pistol in one hand and the cutlass in the other: I did not want these weapons to suffer the same fate as the watch. I was fully armed and looked around the floor - but there was no sign of my watch.Three slow, loud and crisp knocks came from the head of the bed, and the servant called: "Is that you, master?" "No. Be vigilant!" The puppy sits upright, its ears bouncing back and forth quickly.Its eyes were fixed on me, very strangely, which attracted all my attention.It stood up slowly, its hair bristling, and stood stiffly, its eyes staring furiously. However, I have no time to examine it.At that moment a servant rushed out of his room, with such a frightened expression as I have never seen on anyone's face.If we had met in the street like this, I would not have recognized him: his face was distorted and distorted.He rushed past me quickly, his deep voice seemed to come directly from his throat: "Run! Run! It's behind me!" He ran to the door leading to the corridor, opened the door, and rushed out.Involuntarily I followed him up the stairs and told him to stop.However, he ignored me, stumbled up the stairs, clinging to the railing, and ran away in three steps at a time.From where I stood I heard the street gate open, and then I heard it slam shut. I was left alone in this haunted house. I only hesitated for a moment in whether to stay or not, and my pride and curiosity were as strong as to prevent me from escaping this place.I went back into the room again, closed the door behind me, and walked into the room carefully.I have found no reason for the servants to be so frightened. I carefully checked the surrounding walls again, looking for hidden doors.I couldn't find a trace, not even a crack in the dark brown wallpaper plastered on the walls of the room.That being the case, the thing—whatever it was—that frightened him could only come in from my room. I went to my room, closed and locked the door leading to the inner room, and stood by the fire, watching. Only now did I notice that the puppy was hiding in the corner of the wall, clinging to the base of the wall, as if trying to get in and get out.I went up to it and talked to it; the poor beast was evidently out of his wits.Its mouth was open, showing a full mouth of teeth, and saliva was running down its jaw.If I touch it, it will definitely bite me.It doesn't look like it recognizes me.Anyone who has ever seen a rabbit crouched in a corner frightened by a poisonous snake in a zoo can probably imagine the dog's agony. I tried my best to quiet him, but all my efforts were in vain, and I was afraid that he might bite me like a man with rabies, so I left him, put the weapon on the table by the fire, and sat down. , continue to read Macaulay. In order not to appear to be looking for credible grounds for my bravery, or even my composure - which the reader may think I am exaggerating - I may have to interject a self-flattering remark or two. I think that emotion, or courage, is closely related to familiarity with the environment, so I should say that I have become accustomed to miracles of all kinds.In various parts of the world I have witnessed phenomena so strange that if I related them, people would either not believe them at all, or attribute them to supernatural forces. However, my theory is that supernatural forces cannot exist, and that what is called supernatural forces actually exist in laws of nature that we ignore.So, if I have a ghost in front of me, I have no right to say, "Well, then, supernatural powers are possible." No, it exists in the laws of nature, that is, it is not supernatural." In everything I have witnessed—in fact, in the miracles recorded by the world as facts—the intermediary of living matter is always required.In continental Europe, you also come across wizards who claim to be able to summon spirits.Assuming for the moment what they are saying is true, the wizard himself has a living body, he is the medium of matter, and through some of his material properties, you can feel certain strange phenomena. Look again at American rumors of ghostly sightings that convince us there is something real—whether it’s music or other sounds, or the writing of an invisible hand; Appearance or touch—there must always be an agent, or creature, with the unique ability to create the phenomenon. In short, in all these miracles, if there is not a little fraud involved, there must be a man like ourselves in it, and the miracle can only work by means of man or through man.Hypnosis and the phenomenon of bioelectricity, which are widely known nowadays, are for this reason.The human brain functions only through the influence of material mediation. If the hypnotized person can really feel the will or behavior thousands of miles away, this kind of induction is also dependent on the substance.It could be through the flow of matter, it could be called electricity, it could be called chants, or whatever you want to call it.The power of this kind of thing can cross space, pass through obstacles, and transmit material effects. Everything I have thus far seen, or am about to see, in this strange house must, I believe, have been produced through an agency or medium that is as perishable as I am.Such a notion necessarily reduces the sense of dread, and those with a sense of dread who believe that the supernatural is divorced from the laws of nature may have been impressed by the adventures of that memorable night. According to my guess, everything that has appeared or will appear must have originated from some kind of human power, or some kind of motivation.I am very interested in my theory, which is philosophical rather than superstitious.And I can honestly say that at the moment I was watching all this with as much serenity as any experienced experimenter who is waiting for some strange and potentially destructive chemical reaction.Of course, the harder I try to break away from fantasy, the easier it is to acquire emotions suitable for observation.Therefore, I have focused my eyes and energy on Macaulay's article full of rational light. At this moment, I realized that something was between the page and the light, and something blocked the light on the book.I looked up and saw something that was very difficult to describe in words, or rather, it was impossible to describe. It was a dark shadow formed by the air, and its shape was not clear.I dare not say that it is a human form, but it is closer to the human body, or the shadow of a human being, than to anything else.It stood there, completely separated from the surrounding air, and the light shrouded it. Its shape looked very huge, and its top almost touched the ceiling. I stared at it, and a strong chill seized me.Even with an iceberg in front of me, it couldn't have made me feel so cold -- not even the iceberg's cold could be so real.I don't believe that such coldness is due to fear. I continued to gaze at it, and I thought (but I can't say)—that I was aware of two eyes looking down on me from above.Sometimes I seem to be able to distinguish them clearly, and in a blink of an eye, they seem to disappear again.However, there were always two pale blue beams projecting from the darkness, as if from the height at which I saw the eyes-though I doubt whether I actually saw them. I tried hard to open my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.I could only think to myself, "Is this fear? It must not be fear." I tried to stand up, but in vain; I felt as if an irresistible force was holding me down.Indeed, I felt a great overriding force over my will, a feeling of extreme powerlessness, as one feels physically when confronted with storms at sea, fire, beasts of prey, or sharks in the sea. Same.I was feeling spiritually.Against my will is another will, a will that is equal in strength to the storms, fires, and sharks of nature that stand against man. Now, as this impression grows upon me, now, at last, comes horror—horror beyond words.But I still maintain my dignity, if I have lost my courage.I said to myself, "This is terror, not fear; and as long as I am not afraid, I cannot be hurt. My reason denies its existence, it is an illusion, and I feel no fear." With a sudden effort, I finally reached for the weapon on the table.As I did so, I received a strange blow to the arm and shoulder, and my arm dropped limply.Then the light of the candle was slowly dimmed--which added to my horror, it was not extinguished, but the flame dwindled; so did the flame in the stove, whose flame slowly died away from the coals.After a few minutes, the entire room was in extreme darkness. The dread of being in the dark with this powerful black thing made me react nervously.In fact, the fear was so extreme that I must have lost my senses, or, I had broken the spell. I did break free. I made a sound, even though it was nothing more than a scream.I remember yelling out this sentence: "I am not afraid, my heart is not afraid!" At the same time, I stood up vigorously. I was still in deep gloom, but I rushed to a window, drew aside the curtains, and drew down the shutters; my first thought was—light. When I saw the moon high in the sky, peaceful and clear, I felt a surge of joy that almost warded off the previous terror.The moon is still bright, and the gas lights are still on the desolate sleepy street.I turned around and surveyed the room behind me.The bleak moonlight seeps in, but there is still light.那个黑东西——无论它是什么——无影无踪了，我只看到，对面墙上有一个浅浅的影子，与它的形状有些相似。 我的眼光停留在桌子上，从桌子下面（这是一张没铺桌布或是其他覆盖物的红木圆桌）伸出一只手，只能看到手腕的部位。看上去是一只有血有肉的手，与我的手一模一样，可是这是一个上了年纪的人的手，又瘦又小，布满皱纹，这是一位老妇人的手。 那只手非常轻柔地盖在桌上的两封信上，手和信件一起消失了。接着传来三声响亮而有规律的叩击声，与整个事件刚开始时我在床头听见的声音一模一样。 当这声音慢慢地消失，我觉得房子在明显地抖动。在房子的另外一头，似乎从地板上升起了一些光球，五颜六色，绿的、黄的、火红的、天蓝的，忽上忽下，忽前忽后，忽左忽右，来来回回，或缓或急地移动，每一次都不可捉摸。就在这时，一把椅子（像在后面的起居室里一样）从墙边滑过来，停在桌子的那一边。 突然，就像是从椅子上升起了一个人影，一个女人的身影。它与活人的形状一样清晰，同死人的尸体同样可怕。那是一张年轻人的脸，美丽中带着别样的忧伤。她的脖子和双肩裸露着，身体的其他部位罩在一件宽松的白袍子里。 它又开始梳理散落在双肩上的黄色长发，眼睛没有转向我，而是盯着门口。它似乎在倾听，在注视，在等待。背后的影子更暗了，我觉得自己又一次看到暗影上方那双闪闪发亮的双眼，紧盯着眼前的人影。 似乎是从门口——虽然门没有打开，又出了一个身影，同样清晰又同样可怕的人的身影，一个年轻男子的身影。它穿着上个世纪的服饰，或者说酷似上个世纪的装束。这对男女的影子虽然清晰可见，却无质无形，触摸不到，如同幻影。然而，那精致的服饰，以及缀满老式服装的精巧的饰边和佩带却同穿着者僵尸般的面容、幽灵般的沉寂相对照，形成了一种极不和谐的古怪而令人恐惧的景象。就在男子的身影靠近那个女人的时候，墙上的黑影飞奔出来。一瞬间，三个影子重叠在黑暗之中。 当黯淡的光线重现之时，那两个幻象似乎已处于屹立在它们之间的影子的掌握之中。女人的胸口有一丝血迹，男人的幻象靠在一把剑的幻影上，鲜血似乎正从衣服的褶皱和饰带中迅速地流淌出来。居中的黑影把它们吞没了——他们消失得无影无踪。接着，火球再一次闪现出来，四处游荡，起伏不定，越来越密集，移动得更加狂乱。 壁炉右边的柜门打开了，从缝隙处走出一个上了年纪的女人的身形。她手里攥着信件——就是我看见那只手取走的两封信。我听到她的身后响起一个脚步声。她回转身，像是在倾听，然后，她打开信，像是在阅读。在她肩膀的上方，我看到了一张青灰色的脸，一张像是已经淹死许久的男人的脸，惨白而肿胀，披散的头发海草般杂乱。在她的腿边，伏着一具尸体，尸体的旁边蜷缩着一个孩子，一个可怜的脏兮兮的孩子，由于饥饿，它的颧骨高耸着，眼中充满恐惧。我的目光转向妇人的脸庞，只见满面的皱纹全都无影无踪，变成了一张年轻人的面容——眼神冷漠，毫无表情，可是，它是个年轻人。黑夜猛冲过来，把这些幻象全都吞没了，就像它吞没前面的那些东西一样。 除了那个黑影，什么也没有了。我紧紧地盯着它，直到黑影上再次出现了那双眼睛——那双邪恶而阴险的眼睛。光球再一次上下走动，苍白的月光照着它们混乱的景象。这时，从这些光球里蹦出一些奇怪的东西，就像是从蛋壳里面出来的一样，弥漫在空气之中，这是些惨白而丑恶的幼虫，我无法精确地描述它们，只是想让读者想想，当我们把一滴水放到太阳显微镜下面时看到的成群的生物——那些透明，柔软，灵敏，互相追逐，互相吞噬的生物；肉眼看去，却是一无所有。 这些东西形状各异，行动也杂乱无章。它们的游走并不是消遣。它们围着我转圈，越来越密集，越来越迅速而敏捷，在我的头顶上云集，在我的右臂上蠕动——我伸出右手，只是在不自觉地抵御这些怪物。 有时候，我感觉到有什么在触摸我，却不是这些东西，而是一些无形的手。我还感到冰冷而柔软的手指掐住我的喉管。我还能意识到，如果我屈服于恐惧，便将遭受灭顶之灾。我集中所有的力量，一心一意地顽强抵挡。我把目光从黑影身上移开，最首要的是避免同那双怪异而阴险的眼睛接触——那双眼睛已经变得清晰起来。因为在那里，我知道，在我身边，只有在那双眼睛中，有一种意志，一种猛烈而活跃的邪恶意志，它可能会击垮我。 房间里灰暗的空气开始变红，似乎附近正在发生火灾；那些小怪物也变得血红，像是在火中生长的东西。房子再一次震颤起来，三声有节奏的叩击声又一次传来。所有的一切都被那个黑影吞没了，好像它们曾来自于黑暗，如今重又归于黑暗。 昏暗渐渐退去，黑影全然消失了。就在它慢慢退去之时，桌上的蜡烛重新又冒出火苗，壁炉中的柴炭也燃起了火焰。整个房子再一次变得宁静而祥和。 两道门都还关着，那扇与仆人的房间相通的房门仍然上着锁。小狗曾痉挛着龟缩在墙角，这时仍然躺在那里。我召唤它，它一动不动；我走上前去，发现它已经死了。它双眼凸出，舌头伸得老长，下颚上沾满唾沫。我把它抱在怀里，放在炉火边，对失去可怜的宠物感到深深的悲痛和自责。我为它的死而愧疚。我想它是被吓死的。可是真正让我觉得奇怪的是，它的脖子断了，从颈椎骨上拧断的。这是在黑暗之中发生的吗？难道是一个像我一样的人干的吗？难道房间里一直都有某种人的力量存在吗？怀疑的理由很充分，可是我却说不清楚。我只能平铺直叙事实真相，读者可以做出自己的结论。 另一件怪事是，我先前神秘失踪的手表又回到了桌子上。可是，指针正好停在消失它的那个时刻。虽然修表匠使出了浑身解数，也没法再用了——它会很奇怪地断断续续走上几个小时，然后突然一动不动：这只表是没有用了。 当天晚上再没有发生其他事情；事实上，我没等多久，天就亮了。我一直待到天大亮才离开鬼宅。离开之前，我再一次光临我和仆人曾经困于其中的那间怪异的小屋。 我有一种强烈的印象，觉得我卧室里发生的怪现象（如果我可以这样说的话）都是在那间房子里产生的，可是我说不出理由。而且，虽然我现在是在大白天进到这个阳光照射的房间，当我一踏进这里的地面，我仍能感到头天夜里经历过的恐怖，在我的卧室里发生的事更加重了这种感觉。 真的，我无法忍受再在里面多待上半分钟。我走下楼梯，又听见脚步声在我前头响起。我打开大门的时候，隐约听到一声浅笑。我回到自己家中，指望找到溜走的仆人。可他没露面，一连三天都没有任何消息。三天后，我收到他从利物浦寄来的信，大意如下： 尊敬的主人： 我恳请您的原谅，虽然我并不指望您觉得我配得您的谅解，除非——上帝保佑，除非您亲眼见到我的所作所为。我觉得要花好些年才能恢复过来，至于做仆人的工作，恐怕也要到那个时候才能合适。所以我准备去墨尔本找我姐夫，明天启程。也许长途旅行能使我恢复健康。我现在还在不停地恐惧和颤抖，总想着它还在我的身后。尊敬的主人，我恳请您把我的衣物以及应得的薪水寄到华尔华斯我母亲的住处。 信结尾处还是一些致歉的话，有点语无伦次；还有他名下财物的清单。 这次逃跑也许证实了他早想去澳大利亚的嫌疑，而他又不知怎的狡猾地同那天晚上的事扯到了一起。我没有揭穿他的预谋；相反，我倒觉得对许多人来说，这倒不失为处理不可能的事的最可行的方法。 我自己的信念丝毫没有动摇。傍晚，我又去了那座房子，用一辆租用马车，把我留在那儿的东西，连同可怜的小狗的尸体，一起拖回家去。做这件事的时候，我没有受到干扰，也没发生任何异常情况，只是在我上下楼梯时，仍然听到前头的脚步声。离开那幢房子，我就去拜访吉先生。他在家里。我把钥匙还给他，告诉他我的好奇心已经完全满足。我想要提提发生的那些事的时候，他非常礼貌地打断我的话，表示他已经对一个悬而未决的疑案失去了兴趣。 我下决心要把我读过的两封信告诉他，还要说说后来它们神秘消失的事；然后我问他，那两封信是不是那幢屋里去世的女管家收到的，她早年的生活经历中是不是有些什么情况，有助于解开两封信所导致的疑团。 吉先生看上去非常吃惊，他深思了几秒钟之后告诉我： “她早期的生活状况，我几乎没有什么了解，我只知道我们两家之间有些来往，这个以前我告诉过你。但是你让我隐隐约约地记起了一些对她不利的事。我得做一些调查，再告知你详情。然而，即使我们承认流行的迷信，认为在隐秘的犯罪中的罪犯或受害人会变成鬼魂，重返犯罪现场，我还是必须声明一点，那就是，在老妇人去世之前，这房子里就出现了大批怪异的景象和声音。您在笑，您有何高见？” “我要说的就是，我深信一点：在这件事上，如果我们能追根溯源，我们一定能找到一个活生生的人作为中介。” “什么！您觉得发生的一切都是骗局吗？那又为了什么呢？” “并非通常意义上所说的骗局。要是我突然沉沉睡去，您根本没有办法唤醒我，可是我在沉睡中却能准确地回答某些问题，而这是我醒着的时候装不出来的，比如说出您口袋里装着多少钱，或者是道出您的心思——它就不一定是骗局，也不一定必然就是超自然现象。我应该是在毫无知觉的情况下，接受了一个人在异地施行的催眠术——在此之前，他通过与我的'亲善'关系对我产生了影响。 “姑且承认催眠术确有其事，那么您是正确的。而且您能就此推断出，施眠者可以产生您和其他人在非生命体中目睹的奇特效果，也就是说，在空气中充满影像和声音吗？ “或者是激发我们的感官，使我们信服那些怪现象吗？——不可能；当我们同那个人并不曾有过这样的'亲善'关系的时候，这是不可能。通常所说的催眠术做不了这么多。但是存在一种近似于它，或者比它更强大的力量——古时候，人们把这种力量称为巫术。至于这样一种力量能否影响一切非生命体，我不能肯定；可是，如果它能够做到这一点，也并不违背自然法则，它只不过是自然界中的一种力量，附着于具有一定特性的形体，在实践中被磨炼到一种极端的程度。 “还有一种非常古老而陈腐的理论认为，这样一种力量可以蔓延到死者身上，也就是说，操纵死者可能仍然存留的思维和记忆，而且迫使一种对人类来说遥不可及的、称为灵魂的东西呈现于人类感官。对此我不想妄发议论。可是我的确觉得这种力量是超出自然的。 “让我引用一项实验来说明我的意思。帕拉塞尔萨斯把这项实验描述得易如反掌，《文学奇葩》的作者也觉得它确实可信：一朵花凋谢了，你把它烧掉，它存活时的一切元素都消散了，分解了，你不知它去到了哪里；你再也无法找到它，让它恢复原状。但是你可以通过化学手段，从那朵花的灰烬中，见到它栩栩如生的谱象。 “人类可能也和这一样。灵魂离你而去，就如同花朵的元素离它而去一样。你也许仍然能够组成它的谱象。而这种幻象，在通常迷信的观念中，被称为亡灵，却不能同真正的灵魂混为一谈，它只不过是死尸的幻象。 “因此，就像那些历久不衰的幽灵故事所讲述的一样，最让我们震惊的就是我们所说的灵魂的缺席，也就是说，故事缺少高级的不受约束的智慧。它们几乎不抱什么目的；要是它们真的来到了，也很少开口；它们从不发表超出于常人的宏论。美国的这些神灵预言家发表了汗牛充栋的散文和韵文集，并且自称受到那些伟大的逝者——如莎士比亚、培根，或是天知道的什么人的神启。 “那些文集中的上乘之作，也并不比那些有一定天赋、受过良好教育的大活人写出来的东西水准高出多少；比起培根、莎士比亚和柏拉图等人生前的言论，那就差得太远了。更显然的一点是，他们并没有表达任何超出于前人的思想。 “因此，尽管诸如此类的现象可能非常奇妙（姑且承认它们是真实的），我却发现了很多哲学上的疑问。哲学并无意否定什么东西，也就是说，无意否定一切超自然的东西。它们只不过是以这样或那样的方式从一个大脑传递到另外一个大脑（我们还没有发现这种传递的方式）的意念。不管在这样的传递中，桌子是否自行走动，鬼影是否转着圈显形，或者无形的手臂是否伸出来并移动物体，或者，在我们面前显形的黑影是否冰冻了我们的血液——我还是相信，这些只是由媒介从另一个人脑传输到我的头脑中来的，就像是通过电线那样。 “在某些组织中，存在着一种自然化学，它们能够创造化学奇迹；在另外一些组织中，存在某种自然流体，人们称之为电流，它们能够创造出电气奇观。可是它们有别于普通科学：它们几乎没有目标，没有意义，幼稚而琐碎，产生不了什么伟大的结果，因此，世界对它们不予注意，圣贤先哲也不予以栽培。可是我确信，在我的所见所闻之中，有一个人，一个和我自己同样的人，在远远地操纵着这一切，我确信他真切的效果。理由就是：您曾经说过，没有两个人跟你说过，他们有过完全同样的经历；那么，请注意，也没有两个人做过完全相同的梦。 “假如这只是一般的欺诈，使用这些手段完全是为了达到某种几乎不会有所改变的效果，假如只是上帝派来的超自然神力，它一定是为了某个明确的使命。这些现象无法归类。我的信念就是，它们源于远方某个人的大脑，而那个人脑对于所发生的事并没有明显的意图；所有发生的一切都反映了它迂回曲折、混乱不堪、游移不定的思绪。简而言之，就是把这样一个大脑里的梦境付诸实施，并且依附于一种似是而非的实体上面。 “我相信，这个大脑具备无穷的力量，可以驱动物体，它是邪恶的，还带有毁灭性。一定是某种物质力量杀害了我的狗；也许它足以把我杀死——要是我当时像那条狗一样被恐惧所征服，要是我的理智和我的灵魂没有赋予我针锋相对的反抗意志，我完全可能被它杀死。” “它害死了您的狗？太可怕了！的确，奇怪的是，没有人能让动物待在那所房子里，连猫都不去。在那儿也没见着老鼠。” “动物的本能可以辨别危及他们生存的东西。人类的理智要迟钝得多，就因为他们具有更强大的防御力量。我说得够多了，您现在明白我的理论了吗？” “是的，只是还不太彻底。我接受各种奇谈怪论——请原谅我使用这个字眼，无论它有多怪，也比不上附和关于鬼怪妖精的说法（这是我们还在摇篮中，人们就向我们灌输的）。然而，在那倒霉的房子里，灾祸就是这样的，我究竟能怎么办呢？” “要是我，就会这么做。根据内心的感觉，我能肯定，问题就出在那间卧室门右角，也就是那间没有家具的小房子。因此，我奉劝您把那间房的墙推倒，把地板掀开，还有，把整个那间房子拆掉。我注意到它同其他屋是分开的，单独修建在小小的后院里，即使拆除，也不会破坏其他建筑。” “那么您觉得要是我这样做的话……” “您得掐断电报线路。试一下吧。我坚信自己没错，要是您准允我指挥这项工作，我愿意支付其中的一半开销。” “哦，不，我能支付这笔费用。还有，我可以写信给你吧？” 大约十天之后，我收到吉先生的一封信，说在我见过他之后，他又去看了房子，还找到了仍放在原处的那两封信。他读过了那封信，可是对它的内容也同我一样摸不着头脑。他还小心地打探过那个收信的女人的情况。 好像是在三十六年前，也就是收信日期的前一年，她出嫁了。她不顾亲朋好友的反对，嫁给了一个十分可疑的美国人。事实上，大家都认为他是一个海盗。而她自己出身于很有名望的商户人家，出嫁前给人做保育员。她有一个相当富有的鳏居的兄弟，这个兄弟有个六岁左右的孩子。她婚后一个月，有人在伦敦桥附近的泰晤士河里发现了她兄弟的尸体，脖子上有暴力的痕迹，可是不足以证明死者不是落水而死的。 兄弟在遗嘱中指名让她作为孩子的监护人，要是孩子死了，遗产就由她继承，所以这对夫妇抚养着兄弟的独子。六个月之后，小男孩死了，据说是死于无人照管和虐待。邻居们证实，听到孩子在夜晚尖叫。 医生检查了孩子的尸体后得出结论：孩子营养不良而憔悴不堪，身上伤痕累累。看上去，在冬天的某个夜晚，小孩设法逃走，就爬进了后院，他想攀上院墙，却筋疲力尽地摔了下来，第二天早上发现他奄奄一息地躺在石头上。 尽管孩子身上留下一些挨打的迹印，却看不出是谋害。他姑姑两口子为了掩人耳目，就宣扬说小孩过于倔强，性情反常，智力低下。不管怎么说，孩子一死，他姑姑就继承了兄弟的遗产。 结婚不到一年，那个美国人突然不辞而别，从此再也没有回来。他买了一艘游船，两年后在大西洋失踪了。那个寡妇拥有万贯家财，可是厄运接踵而至：破产；投资有去无回；做一些小买卖，却又赔了本；接着从事服务性行业——她就这样一步步沦落下去，从管家沦落到勤杂女工，虽然她的个性无可挑剔，却总找不到一个长期的活干。 她给人的印象是沉静、诚实而且相当稳重，可就是一事无成，最后沦落到了感化院，吉先生就是从那里把她弄出来的，让她照看的那间房子正好是她新婚头一年曾租用过的。 吉先生又说，他去过那间我力劝他拆掉的那间空房子，并且在里边单独待了一个钟头，他觉得那个地方非常恐怖，尽管他根本没有听见也没有看到什么东西。他急于照我的意见把那房子的墙扒掉，把地板挪开。他已经雇了一些工人，等我把日子定好就动工。 日子很快定了下来，我回到闹鬼的房子。 我们走进那间幽暗而沉闷的房子，先把壁脚板揭开，然后又来掀地板。在布满灰尘的椽子下面，我们找到了一扇暗门，门大得足够经过一个人，夹子和铆钉把它封得严严实实。撬开门，我们进入下面一间房子，没有人知道它的存在。 这间房子里，有一扇窗户和一个暖气管，都用砖封死了，显然这是很多年前的事了。我们借着蜡烛光亮打量着这个地方：屋里还有一些废旧的家具，一共三把椅子，一把橡木靠背长椅，一张桌子，都是八十多年前的老式样了。 墙边靠着一个五斗柜，里面装着一些腐烂而陈旧的男人衣物，看上去是八十或一百年以前某位有点身份的绅士穿过的，衣服上缀着昂贵的钢制纽扣，像是眼下宫廷服装仍然使用的样式；一把精致的宫廷佩剑；在一件曾经镶满金色饰边而现在变得黑乎乎、散发着霉味的马夹口袋里，我们发现了五枚金币，几枚银币和一张乳白色的门票，可能是进出某个早已不存在的娱乐场所的。 但是，我们最大的发现却是一个嵌在墙上的铁制保险箱，我们颇费了一番周折才打开上面的锁。 这个保险箱里面有三层格子和两个小抽屉。格子上，放着几个密封的小水晶瓶，里面装着无色的挥发性液体（我只知道它们没有毒），还混合着磷和氨。除此之外，还有一些很奇异的玻璃管，一根尖尖的小铁条，一块较大的无色水晶，一块琥珀，一块磁性很强的天然磁石。 其中一个抽屉里面，我们发现了一枚金质的微型像章，色彩仍然非常鲜亮，它在这里的历史应该相当长了。那是一位中老年男士的像章，大约是四十七八岁的年纪。 那是一张奇特而生动的脸。如果你能设想一条蜕变为人形的大毒蛇，它还保留着蛇的身形，你就可以想象这张脸的样子：前额扁平宽阔，轮廓精细，下颚呈锥形，大而长的眼睛，闪耀着翡翠般的绿光。此外，这张脸残忍而平静，似乎包含着巨大的威力。 奇怪的却是，我看到塑像的一刹那，就认出它同另一幅画像有着惊人的相似，那是世界上最罕见的画像之一，一位仅次于皇室人物的画像，他生前曾经名噪一时。史书上几乎没有他的记载，然而从他同时代人的信函中可以看出，他胆子极大，荒淫无度，从不安分守己，嗜好玄学。 然而，他正在极盛之年便命归黄泉，年历记载说他被葬在异乡。他死的恰是时候，正好躲过了法律的制裁，据说他被控犯有断头死罪。 他生前大力扶持艺术，所以有无数像章，死后，有人收买了这些画像，把它们全都毁掉了，听说这是他的后辈们干的，也许他们那样做就可以把他的恶名从这个显赫的家族中清除掉，因此他们可能很高兴。 他曾经拥有万贯家财，其中相当一部分估计是被他的一位心腹占星家盗走了。不管事情是不是这样，总之，在他去世的时候，那些钱财也莫名其妙地消失了。据说有一张画像幸免于难，几个月前我在一位收藏家那儿还看见过。这张像留给我一种奇妙的印象，每一个看见它的人都会有这样的感觉：那是一张永远不能忘却的脸。我手中的塑像上也是这样一张脸。不过，塑像上的人要比我见到过的画像中的人早一些，或许比他去世时的真人也早一些。可是只有几年！——怎么回事呢？他不可一世的辉煌年代距离这幅塑像的制作日期，中间相隔不止两个世纪。 我默默注视着画像，心中充满疑惑。吉先生说道： “可是，这可能吗？我认识这个人。” “怎么认识的？在哪儿？”我叫了起来。 “在印度。他深得某王侯的信任，差点使他卷入了一次足以使他失去领地的反叛。这是个法国人，名叫德·冯某某，聪明，胆大，无法无天。我们坚决要求剥夺他的公职并将他放逐。肯定是同一个人，没有如此酷似的两张脸。可是这个像章看上去已经将近一百年了。” 我机械地翻过像章，发现它的背面刻着一枚五角星。五角星的中心又有一架梯子，第三级踏板由“1765”的日期组成。经过更细致的检查，我发现了一根弹簧，按动它，像章的后壳像盖子一样启开了。 盖子里面篆刻着一行字：“玛丽安娜，献给你。生死不渝，与……” 后边的名字我不提了，可是它对于我并不陌生。孩提时代我就听见老人们说起过这个名字，它的所有者是个臭名昭著的骗子，他在伦敦闹腾了一年多，然后逃到国外。他被控在自己的屋子里犯下了两桩命案，谋杀了他的情人和情敌。我没把这件事告诉吉先生，而是恋恋不舍地递回像章。 我们没费什么劲儿就打开了保险盒的第一层抽屉，第二层却很费事。它没有上锁，可是我们用尽全力也没有打开，最后，我们用凿子尖端插进缝里才把它撬开。我们把它拉出来，发现里面井井有条地摆着一些古怪的仪器。 在一本薄薄的小书上，或者不如说是一个薄刻写板上，放着一只水晶荷碟，里面盛满透明的液体，上面飘浮着一种罗盘，指针迅速地转动着。四周有七个古怪的字符，与占星术士们通常用来指示天体的圆点不大一样。 一股非常怪异的味道从抽屉里散发出来，这味道并不浓也不太难闻，后来我们发现这个抽屉是榛木做成的。那种味道不知是从何处来的，却让每个人的神经都受到了感应，连同屋里的两名工匠在内，我们所有人都感觉到了它，一种麻麻的刺痛感从指尖蔓延到发根。 因为急于查看刻写板，我挪动了碟子。就在这个时候，罗盘指针飞速地旋转起来，我全身如受电击，把碟子扔在地上。杯子碎了，里面的液体溅了一地，罗盘滚到了房子另一头。霎时间，四壁前后颤动起来，像是一个巨人猛烈地摇晃着房子。 两名工匠吓得爬上我们下来时用的那把梯子，可是看到没再出什么意外，也就顺从地下来了。 在这之间，我已经翻开了刻写板。它被一根银别针别着，包在红色的皮革里，里面只有一张厚牛皮纸。在两个五角星之间，刻着一段古时僧侣们使用的拉丁文字，字面意义转泽如下： “凡入此屋者，无论人兽，无论死活，一旦触动指针，吾人意志立时生效！房子倒霉，居者不得幸免。” 我们再没有其他发现。吉先生把刻书板连同上面的符咒一同烧掉了。又把这个密室，连同上面的房子，全部夷为了平地。然后，他壮起胆子搬到那儿住了一个月。这一下房子可成了又安静又舒适的好房子。随后他高价把房子租给了别人，住户再没有任何异议。 可是我的故事还没有完。就在吉先生搬回去后几天，我登门拜访。我们站在敞开的窗户口边交谈。一辆从他的旧房子里拉家具来的马车停在门口。 我又重申了我的理论，也就是说，所有超现实的现象都起源于人脑；我还将我们遭遇到并继而摧毁了的符咒，或者说咒语，引证来支持我的论点。 吉先生思忖道：“即使催眠术，或者任何哪种类似的力量，真的能够抛开操纵者而起作用，引发如此非凡的后果，并且在这位操纵者死后继续生效吗？如果这个符咒早已写好，事实上，那间屋是早在七十多年前就建成的，那位操纵者应该早已经去世了。”吉先生正要回答，我一把抓住他的胳膊，指着下面的街道。 一位衣着考究的男人穿过了对面的街道，正在同货车的车夫搭腔。他站在那儿，脸正好对着我们的窗户。那正是我们在微型像章上看见的那张脸，正是三百年以前那位贵族画像上的脸！ “天哪！”吉先生喊了起来，“那是德·冯某某的脸——只不过比我年轻时在印度王公的大殿上的稍稍显得老了一些。” 我们怀着同样的心情猛冲下楼。我抢先到了街上，可是那个人已经走了。我看到他就在前面不远处，立刻追了上去。 我早想同他说话，可一看到他那张脸，就觉得什么也说不出来了。那双眼睛，那双毒蛇般的眼睛，紧盯着我，使我灵魂出窍。此外，这个人全身透出一种威严、骄傲和优越感，足以使任何惯于世俗的人不敢冒昧冲动。 况且，我又能说什么呢？我又要问他什么呢？ 愧于一时的心血来潮，我不由自主地落下了几步，不知所措地跟着这位陌生人。这时候，他转过街角，那儿有一辆不起眼的马车等候着他，身穿便服的侍从站在车门边。他很快钻进马车，驶开了。我回到那间房子。 吉先生还站在大门边。他已问过搬运工那陌生人与他的谈话。 “只是打听这房子现在的主人是谁。” 当晚，我碰巧要与一位朋友去镇上一处叫“环球俱乐部”的地方。这是一个能面向所有国家、所有观点、所有阶层人的地方。各人自饮自