[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
enough; a gentleman, and quite witty, though very melancholy which, I suppose,
increased the romance. It was this man, Dalmon, of course; and to this day I m
not sure how far she really accepted him; but it got as far as his getting
permission to see her guardian. I can fancy her awaiting that interview in an
agony of terror and wondering how the old beau would take the appearance of a
rival. But here, again, she found she had apparently done him an injustice. He
received the younger man with hearty hospitality and seemed to be delighted
with the prospects of the young couple. He and Dalmon went shooting and
fishing together and were the best of friends, when one day she had another
shock. Dalmon let slip in conversation some chance phrase that the old man
had not changed much in thirty years, and the truth about the odd intimacy
burst upon her. All that introduction and hospitality had been a masquerade;
the men had obviously known each other before. That was why the younger man
had come down rather covertly to that district. That was why the elder man was
lending himself so readily to promote the match. I wonder what you are
thinking?
I know what you are thinking, said Father Brown, with a smile, and it
seems entirely logical. Here we have Vaudrey, with some ugly story in his
past a mysterious stranger come to haunt him, and getting whatever he wants
out of him. In plain words, you think Dalmon is a blackmailer.
I do, said the other; and a rotten thing to think, too.
Father Brown reflected for a moment and then said: I think I should like to
go up to the house now and have a talk to Dr. Abbott.
When he came out of the house again an hour or two afterwards, he may have
been talking to Dr. Abbott, but he emerged in company with Sybil Rye, a pale
girl with reddish hair and a profile delicate and almost tremulous; at the
sight of her, one could instantly understand all the secretary s story of her
shuddering candor. It recalled Godiva and certain tales of virgin martyrs;
only the shy can be so shameless for conscience s sake. Smith came forward to
meet them, and for a moment they stood talking on the lawn. The day which had
been brilliant from daybreak was now glowing and even glaring; but Father
Brown carried his black bundle of an umbrella as well as wearing his black
umbrella of a hat; and seemed, in a general way, buttoned up to breast the
storm. But perhaps it was only an unconscious effect of attitude; and perhaps
the storm was not a material storm.
What I hate about it all, Sybil was saying in a low voice, is the talk
that s beginning already; suspicions against everybody. John and Evan can
answer for each other, I suppose; but Dr. Abbott has had an awful scene with
the butcher, who thinks he is accused and is throwing accusations about in
consequence.
Evan Smith looked very uncomfortable; then blurted out: Look here, Sybil, I
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
can t say much, but we don t believe there s any need for all that. It s all
very beastly, but we don t think there s been any violence.
Have you got a theory, then? said the girl, looking instantly at the
priest.
I have heard a theory, he replied, which seems to me very convincing.
He stood looking rather dreamily towards the river; and Smith and Sybil began
to talk to each other swiftly, in lowered tones. The priest drifted along the
riverbank, ruminating, and plunged into a plantation of thin trees on an
almost overhanging bank. The strong sun beat on the thin veil of little
dancing leaves like small green flames, and all the birds were singing as if
the tree had a hundred tongues. A minute or two later, Evan Smith heard his
own name called cautiously and yet clearly from the green depths of the
thicket. He stepped rapidly in that direction and met Father Brown returning.
The priest said to him, in a very low voice:
Don t let the lady come down here. Can t you get rid of her? Ask her to
telephone or something; and then come back here again.
Evan Smith turned with a rather desperate appearance of carelessness and
approached the girl; but she was not the sort of person whom it is hard to
make busy with small jobs for others. In a very short time she had vanished
into the house and Smith turned to find that Father Brown had once more
vanished into the thicket. Just beyond the clump of trees was a sort of small
chasm where the turf had subsided to the level of the sand by the river.
Father Brown was standing on the brink of this cleft, looking down; but,
either by accident or design, he was holding his hat in his hand, in spite of
the strong sun pouring on his head.
You had better see this yourself, he said, heavily, as a matter of
evidence. But I warn you to be prepared.
Prepared for what? asked the other
Only for the most horrible thing I ever saw in my life, said Father Brown.
Even Smith stepped to the brink of the bank of turf and with difficulty
repressed a cry rather like a scream.
Sir Arthur Vaudrey was glaring and grinning up at him; the face was turned up
so that he could have put his foot on it; the head was thrown back, with its
wig of whitish yellow hair towards him, so that he saw the face upside down.
This made it seem all the more like a part of a nightmare; as if a man were
walking about with his head stuck on the wrong way. What was he doing? Was it
possible that Vaudrey was really creeping about, hiding in the cracks of field
and bank, and peering out at them in this unnatural posture? The rest of the
figure seemed hunched and almost crooked, as if it had been crippled or
deformed but on looking more closely, this seemed only the foreshortening of
limbs fallen in a heap. Was he mad? Was he? The more Smith looked at him the
stiffer the posture seemed.
You can t see it from here properly, said Father Brown, but his throat is
cut.
Smith shuddered suddenly. I can well believe it s the most horrible thing
you ve seen, he said. I think it s seeing the face upside down. I ve seen
that face at breakfast, or dinner, every day for ten years; and it always
looked quite pleasant and polite. You turn it upside down and it looks like
Page 61
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the face of a fiend.
The face really is smiling, said Father Brown, soberly; which is perhaps
not the least part of the riddle. Not many men smile while their throats are
being cut, even if they do it themselves. That smile, combined with those
gooseberry eyes of his that always seemed standing out of his head, is enough,
no doubt, to explain the expression. But it s true, things look different
upside down. Artists often turn their drawings upside down to test their
correctness. Sometimes, when it s difficult to turn the object itself upside
down (as in the case of the Matterhorn, let us say), they have been known to
stand on their heads, or at least look between their legs.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]