Chapter 11 Chapter Four Two Days in Redwood

When Caterham knew the time had come to seize upon his most difficult problems, he took the law into his own hands and ordered the arrest of Cossar and Redwood. Redwood is easy to catch.He had just had surgery on his side, and the doctors put away everything that was disturbing him until he recovered.Now he is out of the hospital.He had just gotten out of bed and was sitting in a room warmed by a fire, surrounded by piles of newspapers.From the papers he knew for the first time the excitement that had brought the country to Caterham, and the shadow of peril that hung over the princess and his son.This was the morning when little Caddles died, and that was when the police were trying to prevent little Redwood from meeting the princess.The latest papers Redwood read offered only vague foreshadowings of the impending disaster.With a heavy heart he read these first omens of impending doom, and the more he read, the more he saw the shadow of death in them.

He distracted himself by reading the newspaper, waiting for updates to arrive.He looked up eagerly as the policeman followed the servant into his room. "The evening paper comes out early," he said. Then, he stood up and changed his attitude: "What does this mean? After this, Redwood did not see any new news for two days. They brought a wagon with the intention of taking him away, but, as he was evidently ill, it was decided to leave him where he was until he was able to move about safely.Therefore, his house was controlled by the police and became a temporary prison.This is the house in which little Redwood was born; and here the fear of Heraclitus was first applied to man.Now, since his wife died, Redwood has lived here alone for eight years.

He was a grizzled old man with a pointed moustache, and still had lively brown eyes.He was slender and soft-spoken, the same as before, but his face and expression took on an indescribable temperament because he was thinking about those grand things.In the eyes of the arresting officer, his appearance was in stark contrast to the vicious appearance of his assailants. "Here's a fellow," said the sergeant in charge to his lieutenant, "he's done his best to wreck everything, but he's got the face of a quiet country gentleman; look at our Humbrow Judge, everyone is well protected and organized, but his head is like a big fat pig's head. And attitude! One is full of consideration, the other sniffs and slaps Hmph. You can see from here that no matter what you do, your face is always unreliable, can't you?"

But it would be presumptuous of him to praise Redwood for his understanding.The officers found him annoying until they made it clear that it was useless for him to ask questions or ask for newspapers.They scoured his study and even took away the newspapers he already had.Redwood's voice was high and somewhat admonishing. "Do you know," he said repeatedly, "this is my son, my only son, and something happened to him now. I don't care about God Food, I care about my son." "I really wish I could tell you, sir," said the sergeant, "but our orders are strict. "

"Who gave the order?" Redwood shouted. "Ah, well, sir—" said the sergeant, rubbing his way to the door. "He's walking up and down his room," said the deputy, when his superior came down. "That's good, it's good to walk around." "I hope he can," said the chief. "I really didn't think that this giant with the princess is, you know, the man's son." The two of them and the third policeman looked at each other for a while. "That said, he's a bit uncomfortable," said the third policeman. It's clear that Redwood hasn't fully realized that an iron curtain has fallen between him and the outside world.They heard him go to the door, try the handle, play with the lock, and the voice of the police officer standing outside told him it was no good.Afterwards, they heard him go to the window and saw another person looking up and watching.

"That's no good," said the deputy. Then Redwood started ringing the bell.The police officer came up and patiently explained that it was no good to ring the bell like this. If he kept ringing the bell for nothing, when he needed something, he would be ignored. "Reasonable requests are all right, sir," said the officer. "But if ringing the bell is a means of protest, then we shall have to cut the wire, sir." The last words the officer heard were Redwood's high-pitched words: "But at least you gotta let me know that my son—" After that, Redwood stayed in the window most of the time.

But windows have little to offer as to how things are going in the outside world.The street was quiet all night long, and this day it was unusually quiet: hardly a cab or a merchant's cart passed the whole morning.But some passers-by—you can't tell from their air—now and then a group of children, a nurse, a shopping woman, and the like, enter from the left, or the right, and walk across the street, Let them see that they are indifferent to all but their own affairs.Surprised to find a policeman guarding the house, they turned in the opposite direction, walked away from the sidewalk covered with giant hydrangeas, and looked back and pointed.Every now and then a man would come up and ask a policeman a question and get a blunt answer.The house across the way was dead silent.Once, a maid came to the bedroom window and looked at it for a while, and Redwood thought of sending her a message.For a moment, she looked at his gestures, seemed interested, and gave some vague answers, then looked back suddenly, turned and walked away.An old man staggered out of No. 37, down the steps, and walked to the right without looking up at all.For ten minutes the only living thing on the street was a cat.

In this way, the long and serious morning finally passed. At about twelve o'clock, the cries of a newspaper seller came from the adjacent street, but it passed.Unusually, they did not come to the street where Redwood lived, and Redwood guessed that the police were guarding the intersection.He tried to open the window, but this immediately brought a policeman into the room. The parish church clock struck twelve; another abyss of time elapsed before one struck.They tortured him with lunch. He ate only one mouthful, stirring his food so they could take it; he drank a good deal of whiskey, and then, picking up a chair, went back to the window.Every minute grew long and dull, and for a while he probably fell asleep.

When he woke up, he felt something violent shaking in the distance.He noticed the windows rattling like an earthquake. This lasted for a minute and then disappeared.After a while of silence, it came again.Then it disappeared again.He thought it might just be some heavy vehicle driving across the main road.What else could it be? After a while, he began to wonder if he really heard something. He began to wonder endlessly in his mind.Why on earth was he arrested?Caterham has only been on stage for two days - just enough time - catch his nettles!Grab his nettles!Grab his nettles!Once this chorus starts, it keeps singing in my heart, and I can't stop it.

What exactly can Caterham do?He is a man of God.He is restrained and cannot use violence without reason. Grab his nettles!Perhaps, for example, the princess should be seized and sent abroad.Something might happen to his son.If that's the case—!Why should he be arrested?Why was it necessary to shut him up as he was now?It can be seen from this that the problem is even bigger. Perhaps, for example—they're going to arrest all the giants!Catch them all.It has already been hinted at in campaign speeches.What about in the future? Not a problem, they arrested Kosar too? Caterham was a man of God.Redwood is counting on that.In the depths of his heart, there is a black curtain, and on this curtain, two words loom - words written with fire.He was always struggling to erase these two words, but they were always incomplete as if they had just been written on the curtain.

Finally, he faced them squarely. "Slaughter!" With all their blood and ferocity. no!no!no!impossible!Caterham was a man of God, a man of civilization. And, after all these years, so much hope! Redwood jumped up and paced the room.He talked to himself, he roared loudly. "no!" Humans are certainly not this crazy - certainly not!It's impossible, it's implausible, it won't be.Now that all lowly things are growing up and gigantism is inevitable, what good is killing giants?They are not crazy to this extent! "I've got to get rid of that idea," he said aloud. "Give it up! Absolutely!" He was startled.what is that? The windows must be rattling.He walked over and looked down the street. Across the street, he immediately saw something that confirmed his ears.There was a woman in a bedroom at number thirty-five with a towel in her hand, and a man in the dining room at number thirty-seven standing behind a gigantic vase of unusually fat peacock weeds.Both of them were looking out, anxious and restless.He knew perfectly well now that the cops on the sidewalk heard it too.This time it was not his imagination. He turned to the dimly lit room. "Cannon," he said. he thought silently. "cannon?" They brought him strong tea, which he was used to.Obviously, the housekeeper's opinion was sought.After drinking, he was restless, sat down on the chair by the window, and walked around the room.His thoughts became more coherent. This room had been his study for twenty-five years.It was arranged at the time of the wedding, and all the main things date back to that time, the large split desk, the swivel chair, the easy chair by the fire, the swivel bookcase, the index shelf nailed into the wall recess, the brightly colored Turkish rug, Victoria The late hearth rugs and curtains are elegant with age; the brass of the fireplace glows warmly.Electric lamps replaced the oil lamps of the past; this was a major change in the original equipment.Amidst all of this, his relationship with the God Eater left plenty of traces.Along the middle of the wall, there are densely packed black-framed photos and photogravure prints. These are his son, Cossar's son and other children who eat "God Food". Not the same.Even little Caddles had that dazed look.In the corner stood a sheaf of hay tassels from Daystar Abley, and on the table stood three poppy-buds as big as hats.The curtain rail was made of grass stems, and hung a large Okham pig skull, an ominous cream mantelpiece, and a Chinese bottle in each eye socket, with the pig's snout pointing down toward the fire. . Redwood walked towards the pictures, especially those of his son. They brought back countless long-forgotten memories: the early days of Godfood, Bensington's timidity, his fear of Sister Jane, and Cossar and that night's work at the test farm.These things seem small now, but bright and clear, as seen through a telescope on a sunny day.Then came the giant's nursery, the giant's childhood, the babbling of the giant doll and his first expressions of affection.gun? Thoughts flooded, irresistible, overwhelming, of yonder outside, in this damned silence and mystery, of his son and Cossar's son, and the first glorious fruits of a greater age, even Right now - fighting.Fight to survive!Even now, his son might be worrying, wondering, being chased, hurt, falling down. He abruptly walked away from the photo, waving his hands, and walking up and down the room. "Impossible," he cried, "Impossible. It cannot have come to this." "what is that?" He stopped, stunned. The shaking of the windows started again, and then there was the banging—a violent shock that shook the house.The shocks seemed endless.It must be very close.For a moment it seemed as if something had struck the roof above his head--the impact crackled the glass, and there was a dead silence.At last there was the thin and distinct sound of running in the street below. The sound of these footsteps woke him from his stupor.He turned and went to the window, and saw that there were stars in the sky, but the dark night was not peaceful. His heart skipped a beat.Realizing that the crisis is coming, feeling the end is near, and feeling relieved.Then, he realized that this helpless imprisonment fell around him like a curtain. Outside, he could see nothing except that the small electric light across the way was unlit; he could hear nothing except that first loud siren.He couldn't explain it, and he couldn't find anything to add to the mystery, only a reddish light flashed in the southeast sky. This piece of light flickered.When it was dark, he wondered if it had been bright.In the darkness, it grew very slowly and fell on him.In this vast, anxious night, it became the main reality.Sometimes it seemed to him flickering like a flame, and sometimes he thought it was just the afterglow of the evening sun.It lights up and goes dark for a long time, until the dawn breaks in and finally it disappears.it is--?What could it be?Almost certainly.It was a spark, near or far, and he could not tell whether it was smoke or clouds that crossed the sky.At about one o'clock, however, a searchlight began to swing back and forth through the confusion of red light, and it continued to swing all night.This may explain many problems?What could it be?What does it mean?All he saw was a disturbed sky, and all he could imagine was a huge explosion.In addition, there was no sound, no running, nothing but a shout (perhaps it was a drunk in the distance). He didn't turn on the light; he stood at the broken drafty window, and the police officer on the street would look into his room after a while, always seeing a slender black figure in pain, and yelling at him to go to sleep. All night, Redwood stayed by the window, watching that cloud of unknown origin in the sky, and did not give in to fatigue until dawn. After the fire they had prepared for him, which was dying out under the desk and the giant pig's skull, Lie down on the small bed in the room. Redwood had been imprisoned for thirty-six tedious hours, shut up, cut off from the great spectacle of the "two days."At the beginning of gigantic transformation, little people were fighting against the children of the god food.Then, suddenly, the Iron Curtain lifted, and he found himself near the center of events.The rise of the Iron Curtain was as unexpected as its fall.Later that afternoon the rattle of a cab drew him to the window, and it stopped outside.A young man got out of the car and immediately came to the room and stood in front of him. He was a slender young man in his thirties, clean-shaven, well-dressed and well-behaved. "Mr. Redwood," he began, "would you like to see Mr. Caterham? He is anxious to see you." "To meet me!" A question mark flashed, but Redwood couldn't say it for a while.He hesitated.Then he asked hoarsely, "What has he done to my son?" He stood intently, breathlessly, waiting for an answer. "Your son, sir? Your son is doing well. At least that's what we've heard." "Good?" "He was wounded, sir, yesterday. Didn't you hear?" Redwood waved away this set of pretentious statements, and there was no fear in his voice, but anger. "You know I haven't heard. You know I haven't heard anything." "Mr. Caterham is worried, sir—this is a time of great change. Accidents happen to everybody. He arrested you, sir, to save you from misfortune—" "He arrested me to prevent me from warning or advising my son. Go ahead and tell me what happened. Did you attack? Kill them all?" The young man took a step or two towards the window and turned back. "No, sir," he answered curtly. "Is there anything you want to tell me?" "I will tell you, sir, that this battle was not what we had planned. They found us completely unprepared." "what do you mean?" "I mean, sir, those giants, to a certain extent, kept the world suddenly changed in Redwood's presence. For a moment, something, like hysteria, took hold of his facial muscles and throat. A deep "Ah" revealed his emotions. His heart was beating wildly triumphantly. "The giants are holding on! " "A dreadful battle was fought—a dreadful devastation. A dreadful misunderstanding all over. In the North, in the Midlands, some giants were slain. Out and about." "Are they still fighting?" "No, sir, the flag of truce is hoisted." "They promoted?" "No. Mr. Caterham called Seung. The whole thing was a terrible misunderstanding. That's why he wanted to see you and give you an explanation. They insisted, sir, on your intercession—" Redwood cut him off. "Do you know what happened to my son?" he asked. "He was hurt." "Speak! Speak." "He and the princess came to—before, before the siege of Kesar's stronghold had been completed—Corsal's stronghold in Chiselhurst. They appeared suddenly, sir, through a A dense clump of giant oak trees met a group of infantry near the river. The soldiers had been tense for a day, and this happened." "They shot him?" "No, sir. They ran away. Some shot at him—beaten—against orders." Redwood expressed disbelief. "It's true, sir. Not because of your son, I don't tell lies, but because of the princess." "Yes, it's true." "The two giants yelled and ran to camp. The warriors scattered, and some fired. They said they saw him limping—" "Well!" "Yes, sir. But we know he's not seriously hurt." "how do you know?" "He has sent a message, sir, that he is well!" "Give me?" "Are you sure, sir?" For a minute Redwood stood, arms folded, wondering.Then, he said angrily: "Just because you are stupid enough to do this kind of thing, just because you didn't calculate well and acted recklessly, suffered a loss, but still want me to think that you are not a premeditated murderer. And—don't where?" The young man looked at him questioningly. "What about the other giants?" The young man no longer pretended not to understand, he lowered his voice, "Thirteen, sir, are dead." "The rest are injured?" "Yes, sir." "And Cartham," he gasped, "wanted to see me! Where's the rest?" "While the fighting was going on, sir, some came to camp. They seemed to know—" "Well, of course, they know. If it wasn't Cossar—where's Cossar?" "Yes, sir. All the living Giants were there--those who did not come to camp during the war, have gone now, during the truce." "That said," Redwood said, "you failed." "We didn't lose. No, sir. You can't say we failed. But your sons broke the rules of war. Once last night, and now again. After our withdrawal was delayed. This afternoon they started shelling London -" "It's justified!" "The shells they fired were full of poison." "poison?" "Yes, poison. God food—" "The fear of Hercules?" "Yes, sir. Mr. Caterham, sir—" "You're defeated! Of course this defeats you. Corsal did it! What can you do now? Whatever you do, what's the use now? You breathe it, it's in the dust of every street What else do you have to fight? The rules of war, really! And now, Caterham is trying to trick me into making a deal for him. Jesus! Why should I help this bastard? He's already playing After his tricks are first massacred, then out of control. Why should I help him?" The young man stood alert and respectful. "The truth is, sir," he put in, "the giants insist on seeing you. No messengers have been seen but you. If you don't see them, sir, there will be more blood to be shed." "Maybe it's your blood." "No, sir—both sides. The world is determined to get this over with." Redwood looked around the study.His eyes lingered for a moment on the photo of his son.He turned around and met the expectant eyes of the young man. "Okay," he said finally, "I'll go." His meeting with Caterham was completely different from what he had expected.He had seen this man only twice in the past, once at a banquet and once in the foyer of the Parliament.His vision of the man was alive and well, not because of that per se, but because of the newspapers and the comics, the legendary hero Caterham, "Jack the Iron," Percius and the rest, and the element of personality in all of that. It was not the face in the caricatures and portraits, but a tired, insomniac human face, elongated and wrinkled, with yellowed white eyes and a slack mouth.Yes, here is the profile of the great demagogue with reddish-brown eyes, black hair, and a clear hooked nose, but there is something else here too, enough to sweep away any pre-prepared rhetoric and contempt .The man is suffering; he is suffering terribly; he is under great pressure.At the beginning, he still put on airs and was very airy.Now, a simple gesture, the slightest movement, revealed to Redwood that he was on medication.He stuck a thumb in his vest pocket, and before saying a few words, he dropped the disguise and stuffed the little pill into his mouth. Moreover, despite the pressure he was under, despite the fact that he was wrong, and twelve years younger than Redwood, his strange quality--the magnetism of personality, for lack of a better name--made him It was still present in him when he reached the culmination of this catastrophe.This point, Redwood did not estimate.From the very beginning, from the beginning of their conversation, Caterham had the upper hand on Redwood.The first stage of their meeting was completely under his control, the tone and the procedure were set by him.This seems to be taken for granted.Everything that Redwood had thought in advance disappeared as soon as he saw him.Caterham shook hands with Redwood before he remembered that he had intended to avoid intimacy; approach to disaster. If he made mistakes, it was because his fatigue repeatedly distracted him, unconsciously following the habit of meeting in public.At this moment, he raised his spirits—both of them stood during the meeting—not looking at Redwood, and began to defend and appeal.At one point, he even said "Gentlemen!" He began to talk calmly and passionately. At times, Redwood even forgets that he is the interlocutor and becomes the audience of the monologue.He became a privileged bystander of an unusual phenomenon.He saw a marked difference between him and this man who talked, and surrounded him with the beauty of his voice.The mind of the person in front of him is so powerful, yet so narrow.Its exuberance, its force of character, its irresistible ability to dominate something, aroused in Redwood a grotesque vision.Redwood sees him no longer as an opponent of his kind, as a morally responsible person, from whom he can make reasonable demands, but as some kind of rhinoceros-like monster, born out of the jungle of democratic politics. Civilization Rhinoceros, a monster that is irresistible when attacking and invincible when standing firm.He stands above these violent conflicts.anything else?This is a man picked to rise above the crowd.For him, there is no greater error than self-contradiction, no science more meaningful than the coordination of various "interests".The realities of the economy, the necessities of terrain, the treasures of science just touched, were no more valuable to him than railroad guns or geographical travelogues.All that really mattered was the mass meeting, the organizing committee, and the votes—the most important thing was the votes.He is the embodiment of votes - millions of votes.At this moment, in this great crisis, when the Giant was badly wounded but not defeated, the "vote monster" was talking endlessly. Obviously, until now, he didn't understand anything.He doesn't know that there are laws of physics and economics, and there are quantities and reactions. These cannot be canceled by human votes. If you don't obey them, you will have to pay a price and suffer losses.He does not know that there are moral precepts which cannot be changed by the power of charm.Or after being changed, violent revenge will inevitably be incurred.Faced with shrapnel or Armageddon, it was obvious to Redwood that this man would hide behind the votes in the House of Commons. What he cares most about now is not the power to control the stronghold in the south, nor is it defeat and death, but the impact of these things on his majority, which is the greatest reality in his life.He had to beat the giant or he had to step down.He was by no means one to despair easily.In this moment of disastrous defeat, with blood and disaster on his hands, and an even more terrible disaster before him, he can still believe that by exerting his Voices, explanations, descriptions, and repeated statements can restore his power.Doubtless he was bewildered and suffering; but if he persisted, if he could go on talking— As he spoke, Redwood felt that he moved in and out, expanded and contracted, and what Redwood said in this conversation was extremely minor: wedged in suddenly. "It's all nonsense." "no". "It's no use bringing this up." Really "Then why did you do it first?" It was doubtful whether Caterham had heard him.His words flow around these parentheses, really, like a swift river flowing over stones.This incredible man stood there on the hearthrug of his public house, talking, talking, eloquent and eloquent, and seemed to want nothing but his talk, his explanations, his presentation of positions and situations, and his considerations. and schemes, the mere pause in the talk of these things allowed some opposing influence to arise--sounded, the only influence he could comprehend.There he stood, in that slightly faded plush office, the place where one after another had succumbed to the belief that some mediating force was an Empire's creative means of control. The more he talked, the more it seemed to Redwood that it was all nonsense. I don't know if this man realizes that while he stands there talking, the whole wide world moves, and the tide of invincible gigantism rises higher and higher; , is there another time, and the blood for blood avenger also has a weapon in his hand?Outside, a leaf of a giant Virginia climber, blocking the light from inside, knocked imperceptibly on the window. Redwood is anxious to end this astonishing monologue, to flee back to sanity and judgment, to the besieged camp, to the future fortress.There, at the core of the giant, the sons gathered.For this reason, he endured this conversation.He had an odd impression that if the monologue was not over he would be dazed by it, so he had to resist Caterham's voice as one resists opium.Under this spell, the facts are distorted, and are still being distorted. What is this man talking about? Since Redwood had to report to the children of the God Eater, he kind of felt that those words still mattered.He had to listen while trying to keep his head clear. Long passages about bloody crimes.This is oratory.Useless.What's next? He's proposing a deal! He proposes that the now-living children of God Eater surrender and form a society of their own elsewhere.There's precedent, he said, "We can give them a territory—" "Where is it?" Redwood interrupted him, succumbing to the other party's argument. Caterham seized on this concession, turned his face to Redwood, and lowered his voice to a level of persuasive reasoning.That can be studied.That, he asserted vigorously, was a secondary issue.He went on to speak of conditions: "We must have absolute control, except where they are, and where they are given; the Food of God and its consequences must be wiped out." Redwood finds himself making deals: "What about the princess?" "She's something else." "No!" Redwood struggled back to his original position, "That's ridiculous." "We'll talk about that later. In any case, we have agreed that the production of God Food must be stopped—" "I agreed to nothing. I said nothing—" "However, on a planet, there are two kinds of people—one is big, and the other is small! Think about what happened! Think about it, if God's Food prevails, all this will be just a sign, think about that What will happen to you! Think of all that you have brought into this world! If a race of giants, multiplied, multiplied—" "It's not for me to argue," Redwood said. "I've got to go to my boys. I'm going to my son. That's why I'm here. Tell me exactly what you're proposing." What." Caterham rants about the terms. "The children of God Eater are given a large reservation—either in North America, or in Africa—where they can live on their own terms until they die." "That's nonsense," said Redwood. "There are other giants abroad, all over Europe—here, there!" "International agreements can be made. It's not impossible. There's been some talk about that. On the reservation, they can live on their own terms until they die. They can do what they like; they can make what they like. If They produce for us, and we shall be happy. They may be. Think!" "As long as there are no more giant boys." "Exactly. There must be no more giant boys. In this way, sir, we have saved the world, we have saved the world from the consequences of your terrible discovery. It is not too late for us. We're just too eager to be compassionate and not overly self-interested. Right now, we're setting fire to areas where their shells hit yesterday. We can control it. Believe me, we will. But if we can There is an agreement, no cruelty, no injustice—” "Suppose the children disagree?" Caterham looked at Redwood for the first time now. "They have to agree." "I don't think they'll agree." "Why didn't they agree?" he asked, surprise in his voice. "Suppose they don't?" "Can it be anything but war? We can't let it go on. Can't we, sir, have you no imagination, you scientific man? No compassion? We can't allow our world to suffer from your divine food The resulting trampling of such a group of big monsters and other big things. We can't, we just can't! I ask you, sir, can it be anything but war? Remember - what is happening now is only the beginning! It's just a little confrontation. Just a little bit of police action. Believe me, just police action. Don't be fooled by proportions, don't be fooled by the size of new things. There's a whole nation behind us—humanity. In Thousands of dead are followed by millions. Were it not for the unwillingness to shed blood, sir, many attacks would have been organized after our first attack, and we still do. Whether we can destroy the god food or not, We could kill your children anyway! You overestimate the events of yesterday, the development of mere twenty years, one battle. You have no idea of ​​the slow progress of history. In order to save lives, I propose this Agreement, not because it will change the inevitable. If you think that two dozen giants of yours can resist the full strength of my people, and come to the aid of our allies; if you think you can change human nature in one blow, in one generation , and change man's figure and nature—" He waved his arms. "Go to them, sir! Look at them, and all the evil they've done, squatting among their wounded companions—" Here he stopped, as if suddenly thinking of Redwood's son. There was a silence. "Go to them," he said. “那正是我所需要的。” “那现在就走。” 他转身按铃；在外面，立即应声传来了开门和急促的脚步声。 谈话结束，表演完毕。忽然间，卡特汉似乎又收缩、枯萎，成了个面色蜡黄、筋疲力竭的中等身量的中年人。他向前走了一步，好像是从一幅画里走出来一样，带着我们的族类在冲突时所有的完美的友谊姿态，向雷德伍德伸出了手。 好像这是当然的，雷德伍德和他握了第二次手。