pgw.piccadillyjim-第52部分

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a　strangled　shriek。　Willie　Partridge　yelped　like　a　dog。　Sharp　exclamations　came　simultaneously　from　each　of　the　geniuses。
　Gentleman　Jack　waited　for　the　clamour　to　subside。　Then　he　resumed　his　gentle　drawl。
　〃But　I'm　not　done；〃　he　explained。　〃I'm　going　out　now　through　that　window。　And　if　anybody　tries　to　stop　me；　it　will　be　hisor　her〃　he　bowed　politely　to　Miss　Trimble〃last　act　in　the　world。　If　any　one　makes　a　move　to　stop　me；　I　shall　drop　this　test…tube　and　blow　the　whole　damned　place　to　pieces。〃
　If　his　first　speech　had　made　a　marked　impression　on　his　audience；　his　second　paralysed　them。　A　silence　followed　as　of　the　tomb。　Only　the　yapping　of　the　dog　Aida　refused　to　be　stilled。
　〃Y'　stay　where　y'　are！〃　said　Miss　Trimble；　as　the　speaker　moved　towards　the　window。　She　held　the　revolver　poised；　but　for　the　first　time　that　nightpossibly　for　the　first　time　in　her　lifeshe　spoke　irresolutely。　Superbly　petent　woman　though　she　was；　here　was　a　situation　that　baffled　her。
　Gentleman　Jack　crossed　the　room　slowly；　the　test…tube　held　aloft　between　fore…finger　and　thumb。　He　was　level　with　Miss　Trimble；　who　had　lowered　her　revolver　and　had　drawn　to　one　side　plainly　at　a　loss　to　know　how　to　handle　this　unprecedented　crisis；　when　the　door　flew　open。　For　an　instant　the　face　of　Howard　Bemis；　the　poet；　was　visible。
　〃Mrs。　Pett；　I　have　telephoned〃
　Then　another　voice　interrupted　him。
　〃Yipe！　Yipe！　Yipe！〃
　Through　the　opening　the　dog　Aida；　rejoicing　in　the　removal　of　the　obstacle；　raced　like　a　fur　muff　mysteriously　endowed　with　legs　and　a　tongue。　She　tore　across　the　room　to　where　Gentleman　Jack's　ankles　waited　invitingly。　Ever　since　their　first　meeting　she　had　wanted　a　fair　chance　at　those　ankles；　but　some　one　had　always　prevented　her。
　〃Damn！〃　shouted　Gentleman　Jack。
　The　word　was　drowned　in　one　vast　cataclysm　of　noise。　From　every　throat　in　the　room　there　proceeded　a　shout；　a　shriek；　or　some　other　variety　of　cry；　as　the　test…tube；　slipping　from　between　the　victim's　fingers；　described　a　parabola　through　the　air。
　Ann　flung　herself　into　Jimmy's　arms；　and　he　held　her　tight。　He　shut　his　eyes。　Even　as　he　waited　for　the　end　the　thought　flashed　through　his　mind　that；　if　he　must　die；　this　was　the　manner　of　death　which　he　would　prefer。
　The　test…tube　crashed　on　the　writing…desk；　and　burst　into　a　million　pieces。　。　。　。
　Jimmy　opened　his　eyes。　Things　seemed　to　be　much　about　the　same　as　before。　He　was　still　alive。　The　room　in　which　he　stood　was　solid　and　intact。　Nobody　was　in　fragments。　There　was　only　one　respect　in　which　the　scene　differed　from　what　it　had　been　a　moment　before。　Then；　it　had　contained　Gentleman　Jack。　Now　it　did　not。
　A　great　sigh　seemed　to　sweep　through　the　room。　There　was　a　long　silence。　Then；　from　the　direction　of　the　street；　came　the　roar　of　a　starting　automobile。　And　at　that　sound　the　bearded　man　with　the　spectacles　who　had　formed　part　of　Miss　Trimble's　procession　uttered　a　wailing　cry。
　〃Gee！　He's　beat　it　in　my　bubble！　And　it　was　a　hired　one！〃
　The　words　seemed　to　relieve　the　tension　in　the　air。　One　by　one　the　pany　became　masters　of　themselves　once　more。　Miss　Trimble；　that　masterly　woman；　was　the　first　to　recover。　She　raised　herself　from　the　floorfor　with　a　confused　idea　that　she　would　be　safer　there　she　had　flung　herself　downand；　having　dusted　her　skirt　with　a　few　decisive　dabs　of　her　strong　left　hand；　addressed　herself　once　more　to　business。
　〃I　let　'm　bluff　me　with　a　fake　bomb！〃　she　mented　bitterly。　She　brooded　on　this　for　a　moment。　〃Say；　shut　th't　door　'gain；　some　one；　and　t'run　this　mutt　out。　I　can't　think　with　th't　yapping　going　on。〃
　Mrs。　Pett；　pale　and　scared；　gathered　Aida　into　her　arms。　At　the　same　time　Ann　removed　herself　from　Jimmy's。　She　did　not　look　at　him。　She　was　feeling　oddly　shy。　Shyness　had　never　been　a　failing　of　hers；　but　she　would　have　given　much　now　to　have　been　elsewhere。
　Miss　Trimble　again　took　charge　of　the　situation。　The　sound　of　the　automobile　had　died　away。　Gentleman　Jack　had　passed　out　of　their　lives。　This　fact　embittered　Miss　Trimble。　She　spoke　with　asperity。
　〃Well；　he's　gone！〃　she　said　acidly。　〃Now　we　can　get　down　t'　cases　again。　Say！〃　She　addressed　Mrs。　Pett；　who　started　nervously。　The　experience　of　passing　through　the　shadow　of　the　valley　of　death　and　of　finding　herself　in　one　piece　instead　of　several　thousand　had　robbed　her　of　all　her　wonted　masterfulness。　〃Say；　list'n　t'　me。　There's　been　a　double　game　on　here　t'night。　That　guy　that's　jus'　gone　was　th'　first　part　of　th'　entertainment。　Now　we　c'n　start　th'　sec'nd　part。　You　see　these　ducks？〃　She　indicated　with　a　wave　of　the　revolver　Mr。　Crocker　and　his　bearded　rade。　〃They've　been　trying　t'　kidnap　y'r　son！　〃
　Mrs。　Pett　uttered　a　piercing　cry。
　〃Oggie！〃
　〃Oh；　can　it！〃　muttered　that　youth；　unfortably。　He　foresaw　awkward　moments　ahead；　and　he　wished　to　concentrate　his　faculties　entirely　on　the　part　he　was　to　play　in　them。　He　looked　sideways　at　Chicago　Ed。　In　a　few　minutes；　he　supposed；　Ed　would　be　attempting　to　minimise　his　own　crimes；　by　pretending　that　he；　Ogden；　had　invited　him　to　e　and　kidnap　him。　Stout　denial　must　be　his　weapon。
　〃I　had　m'　suspicions；〃　resumed　Miss　Trimble；　〃that　someth'ng　was　goin'　t'　be　pulled　off　to…night；　'nd　I　was　waiting　outside　f'r　it　to　break　loose。　This　guy　here；〃　she　indicated　the　bearded　plotter；　who　blinked　deprecatingly　through　his　spectacles；　〃h's　been　waiting　on　the　c'rner　of　th'　street　for　the　last　hour　with　'n　automobile。　I've　b'n　watching　him　right　along。　I　was　onto　h's　game！　Well；　just　now　out　came　the　kid　with　this　plug…ugly　here。〃　She　turned　to　Mr。　Crocker。　〃Say　you！　Take　off　th't　mask。　Let's　have　a　l'k　at　you！〃
　Mr。　Crocker　reluctantly　drew　the　cambric　from　his　face。
　〃Goosh！〃　exclaimed　Miss　Trimble　in　strong　distaste。　〃Say；　've　you　got　some　kind　of　a　plague；　or　wh't　is　it？　Y'look　like　a　coloured　ic　supplement！〃　She　confronted　the　shrinking　Mr。　Crocker　and　ran　a　bony　finger　over　his　cheek。　〃Make…up！〃　she　said；　eyeing　the　stains　disgustedly。　〃Grease　paint！　Goosh！〃
　〃Skinner！〃　cried　Mrs。　Pett。
　Miss　Trimble　scanned　her　victim　more　closely。
　〃So　't　is；　if　y'　do　a　bit　'f　excavating。〃　She　turned　on　the　bearded　one。　〃'nd　I　guess　all　this　shrubbery　is　fake；　'f　you　e　down　to　it！〃　She　wrenched　at　the　unhappy　man's　beard。　It　came　off　in　her　hands；　leaving　a　square　chin　behind　it。　〃If　this　ain't　a　wig；　y'll　have　a　headache　t'morrow；〃　observed　Miss　Trimble；　weaving　her　fingers　into　his　luxuriant　head…covering　and　pulling。　〃Wish　y'　luck！　Ah！　'twas　a　wig。　Gimme　those　spect'cles。〃　She　surveyed　the　results　of　her　handiwork　grimly。　〃Say；　Clarence；〃　she　remarked；　〃y're　a　wise　guy。　Y'　look　handsomer　with　'em　on。　Does　any　one　know　this　duck？〃
　〃It　is　Mitchell；〃　said　Mrs。　Pett。　〃My　husband's　physical　instructor。〃
　Miss　Trimble　turned；　and；　walking　to　Jimmy；　tapped　him　meaningly　on　the　chest　with　her　revolver。
　〃Say；　this　is　gett'n　interesting！　This　is　where　y'　'xplain；　y'ng　man；　how　'twas　you　happened　to　be　down　in　this　room　when　th't　crook　who's　just　gone　was　monkeyin'　with　the　safe。　L'ks　t'　me　as　if　you　were　in　with　these　two。〃
　A　feeling　of　being　on　the　verge　of　one　of　those　crises　which　dot　the　smooth　path　of　our　lives　came　to　Jimmy。　To　conceal　his　identity　from　Ann　any　longer　seemed　impossible。　He　was　about　to　speak；　when　Ann　broke　in。
　〃Aunt　Nesta；〃　she　said；　〃I　can't　let　this　go　on　any　longer。　Jerry　Mitchell　isn't　to　blame。　I　told　him　to　kidnap　Ogden！〃
　There　was　an　awkward　silence。　Mrs。　Pett　laughed　nervously。
　〃I　think　you　had　better　go　to　bed；　my　dear　child。　You　have　had　a　severe　shock。　You　are　not　yourself。〃
　〃But　it's　true！　I　did　tell　him；　didn't　I；　Jerry？〃
　〃Say！〃　Miss　Trimble　silenced　Jerry　with　a　gesture。　〃You　beat　't　back　t'　y'r　little　bed；　honey；　like　y'r　aunt　says。　Y'　say　y'　told　this　guy　t'　steal　th'　kid。　Well；　what　about　this　here　Skinner？　Y'　didn't　tell　him；　did　y'？〃
　〃II〃　Ann　began　confusedly。　She　was　utterly　unable　to　account　for　Skinner；　and　it　made　her　task　of　explaining　difficult。
　Jimmy　came　to　the　rescue。　He　did　not　like　to　think　how　Ann　would　receive　the　news；　but　for　her　own　sake　he　must　speak　now。　It　would　have　required　a　harder…hearted　man　than　himself　to　resist　the　mute　pleading　of　his　father's　grease…painted　face。　Mr。　Crocker　was　a