preston&child.thecabinetofcuriosities-第16部分

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　〃What？〃
　〃I'll　take　that　as　a　no。　You　missed　a　splendid　exhibition。　The　Met　has　a　fine　collection　of　historical　clothing　dating　back　to　the　early　Middle　Ages。　Most　of　it　was　in　storage。　But　last　year；　they　mounted　an　exhibition　showing　how　clothing　evolved　over　the　last　six　centuries。　Absolutely　fascinating。　Did　you　know　that　all　ladies　at　Louis　XIV's　court　at　Versailles　were　required　to　have　a　thirteen…inch　waist　or　less？　And　that　their　dresses　weighed　between　thirty　and　forty　pounds？〃
　O'Shaughnessy　realized　he　didn't　know　how　to　answer。　The　conversation　had　taken　such　a　strange　and　sudden　tack　that　he　found　himself　momentarily　stunned。
　〃I　was　also　interested　to　learn　that　in　the　fifteenth　century；　a　man's　codpiece…〃
　This　tidbit　was　mercifully　interrupted　by　a　screech　of　brakes　as　the　Rolls　swerved　to　avoid　a　cab　cutting　across　three　lanes　of　traffic。
　〃Yankee　barbarians；〃　said　Pendergast　mildly。　〃Now；　where　was　I？　Ah　yes；　the　codpiece　。　。　。〃
　The　Rolls　was　caught　in　Midtown　traffic　now；　and　O'Shaughnessy　began　to　wonder　just　how　much　longer　this　ride　was　going　to　take。
　　
　The　Great　Hall　of　the　Metropolitan　Museum　was　sheeted　in　Beaux　Arts　marble；　decorated　with　vast　sprays　of　flowers；　and　almost　unbearably　crowded。　O'Shaughnessy　hung　back　while　the　strange　FBI　agent　talked　to　one　of　the　harried　volunteers　at　the　information　desk。　She　picked　up　a　phone；　called　someone；　then　put　it　down　again；　looking　highly　irritated。　O'Shaughnessy　began　to　wonder　what　this　Pendergast　was　up　to。　Throughout　the　extended　trip　uptown　he'd　said　nothing　about　his　intended　plan　of　action。
　He　glanced　around。　It　was　an　Upper　East　Side　crowd；　for　sure：　ladies　dressed　to　the　nines　clicking　here　and　there　in　high　heels；　uniformed　schoolchildren　lined　up　and　well　behaved；　a　few　tweedy…looking　academics　wandering　about　with　thoughtful　faces。　Several　people　were　staring　at　him　disapprovingly；　as　if　it　was　in　bad　taste　to　be　in　the　Met　wearing　a　police　officer's　uniform。　He　felt　a　rush　of　misanthropy。　Hypocrites。
　Pendergast　motioned　him　over；　and　they　passed　into　the　museum；　running　a　gauntlet　of　ticket　takers　in　the　process；　past　a　case　full　of　Roman　gold；　plunging　at　last　into　a　confusing　sequence　of　rooms　crowded　with　statues；　vases；　paintings；　mummies；　and　all　manner　of　art。　Pendergast　talked　the　whole　time；　but　the　crowds　were　so　dense　and　the　noise　so　deafening；　O'Shaughnessy　caught　only　a　few　words。
　They　passed　through　a　quieter　suite　of　rooms　full　of　Asian　art；　finally　arriving　in　front　of　a　door　of　shiny　gray　metal。　Pendergast　opened　it　without　knocking；　revealing　a　small　reception　area。　A　strikingly　good…looking　receptionist　sat　behind　a　desk　of　blond　wood。　Her　eyes　widened　slightly　at　the　sight　of　his　uniform。　O'Shaughnessy　gave　her　a　menacing　look。
　〃May　I　help　you？〃　She　addressed　Pendergast；　but　her　eyes　continued　to　flicker　anxiously　toward　O'Shaughnessy。
　〃Sergeant　O'Shaughnessy　and　Special　Agent　Pendergast　are　here　to　see　Dr。　Wellesley。〃
　〃Do　you　have　an　appointment？〃
　〃Alas；　no。〃
　The　receptionist　hesitated。　〃I'm　sorry。　Special　Agent…？〃
　〃Pendergast。　Federal　Bureau　of　Investigation。〃
　At　this　she　flushed　deeply。　〃Just　a　moment。〃　She　picked　up　her　phone。　O'Shaughnessy　could　hear　it　ringing　in　an　office　just　off　the　reception　area。
　〃Dr。　Wellesley；〃　the　secretary　said；　〃there　is　a　Special　Agent　Pendergast　from　the　FBI　and　a　police　officer　here　to　see　you。〃
　The　voice　that　echoed　out　of　the　office　was　easily　heard　by　all。　It　was　a　crisp；　no…nonsense　voice；　feminine；　yet　cold　as　ice；　and　so　unrelievedly　English　it　made　O'Shaughnessy　bristle。
　〃Unless　they　are　here　to　arrest　me；　Heather；　the　gentlemen　can　make　an　appointment　like　everyone　else。　I　am　engaged。〃
　The　crash　of　her　telephone　hitting　the　cradle　was　equally　unmistakable。
　The　receptionist　looked　up　at　them　with　high　nervousness。　〃Dr。　Wellesley…〃
　But　Pendergast　was　already　moving　toward　the　office　from　which　the　voice　had　issued。　This　is　more　like　it；　O'Shaughnessy　thought；　as　Pendergast　swung　open　the　door；　placing　himself　squarely　in　the　doorway。　At　least　the　guy；　for　all　his　pretensions；　was　no　pushover。　He　knew　how　to　cut　through　the　bullshit。
　The　unseen　voice；　laden　with　sarcasm；　cut　the　air。　〃Ah；　the　proverbial　copper　with　his　foot　in　the　door。　Pity　it　wasn't　locked　so　you　could　batter　it　down　with　your　truncheon。〃
　It　was　as　if　Pendergast　had　not　heard。　His　fluid；　honeyed　voice　filled　the　office　with　warmth　and　charm。　〃Dr。　Wellesley；　I　have　e　to　you　because　you　are　the　world's　foremost　authority　on　the　history　of　dress。　And　I　hope　you'll　permit　me　to　say　your　identification　of　the　Greek　peplos　of　Vergina　was　most　thrilling　to　me　personally。　I　have　long　had　an　interest　in　the　subject。〃
　There　was　a　brief　silence。　〃Flattery；　Mr。　Pendergast；　will　at　least　get　you　inside。〃
　O'Shaughnessy　followed　the　agent　into　a　small　but　very　well…appointed　office。　The　furniture　looked　like　it　had　e　directly　from　the　museum's　collection；　and　the　walls　were　hung　with　a　series　of　eighteenth…century　watercolors　of　opera　costumes。　O'Shaughnessy　thought　they　might　be　the　characters　of　Figaro；　Rosina；　and　Count　Almaviva　from　The　Barber　of　Seville。　Opera　was　his　sole；　and　his　secret；　indulgence。
　He　seated　himself；　crossing　and　then　uncrossing　his　legs；　shifting　in　the　impossibly　unfortable　chair。　No　matter　what　he　did；　he　still　seemed　to　take　up　too　much　space。　The　blue　of　his　uniform　seemed　unbearably　gauche　amid　the　elegant　furnishings。　He　glanced　back　up　at　the　watercolors；　allowing　the　bars　of　an　aria　to　go　through　his　head。
　Wellesley　was　an　attractive　woman　in　her　mid…forties；　beautifully　dressed。　〃I　see　you　admire　my　pictures；〃　she　said　to　O'Shaughnessy；　eyeing　him　shrewdly。
　〃Sure；〃　said　O'Shaughnessy。　〃If　you　like　dancing　in　a　wig；　pumps；　and　straitjacket。〃
　Wellesley　turned　to　Pendergast。　〃Your　associate　has　a　rather　queer　sense　of　humor。〃
　〃Indeed。〃
　〃Now　what　can　I　do　for　you　gentlemen？〃
　Pendergast　removed　a　bundle　from　under　his　suit；　loosely　wrapped　in　paper。　〃I　would　like　you　to　examine　this　dress；〃　he　said；　unrolling　the　bundle　across　the　curator's　desk。　She　backed　up　slightly　in　horror　as　the　true　dimensions　of　its　filth　were　exposed　to　view。
　O'Shaughnessy　thought　he　detected　a　peculiar　smell。　Very　peculiar。　It　occurred　to　him　that　maybe；　just　maybe；　Pendergast　wasn't　on　the　take…that　this　was　for　real。
　〃Good　lord。　Please；〃　she　said；　stepping　farther　back　and　putting　a　hand　before　her　face。　〃I　do　not　do　police　work。　Take　this　revolting　thing　away。〃
　〃This　revolting　thing；　Dr。　Wellesley；　belonged　to　a　nineteen…year…old　girl　who　was　murdered　over　a　hundred　years　ago；　dissected；　dismembered；　and　walled　up　in　a　tunnel　in　lower　Manhattan。　Sewn　up　into　the　dress　was　a　note；　which　the　girl　wrote　in　her　own　blood。　It　gave　her　name；　age；　and　address。　Nothing　else…ink　of　that　sort　does　not　encourage　prolixity。　It　was　the　note　of　a　girl　who　knew　she　was　about　to　die。　She　knew　that　no　one　would　help　her；　no　one　would　save　her。　Her　only　wish　was　that　her　body　be　identified…that　she　not　be　forgotten。　I　could　not　help　her　then；　but　I　am　trying　to　now。　That　is　why　I　am　here。〃　The　dress　seemed　to　quiver　slightly；　and　O'Shaughnessy　realized　with　a　start　that　the　FBI　agent's　hand　was　trembling　with　emotion。　At　least；　that's　how　it　looked　to　him。　That　a　law　officer　would　actually　care　about　something　like　this　was　a　revelation。
　The　silence　that　followed　Pendergast's　statement　was　profound。
　Without　a　word；　Wellesley　bent　down　over　the　dress；　fingered　it；　turned　up　its　lining；　gently　stretched　the　material　in　several　directions。　Reaching　into　a　drawer　of　her　desk；　she　pulled　out　a　large　magnifying　glass　and　began　examining　the　stitching　and　fabric。　Several　minutes　passed。　Then　she　sighed　and　sat　down　in　her　chair。
　〃This　is　a　typical　workhouse　garment；〃　she　said。　〃Standard　issue　in　the　latter　part　of　the　nineteenth　century。　Cheap　woolen　fabric　for　the　exterior；　scratchy　and　coarse　but　actually　quite　warm；　lined　with　undyed　cotton。　You　can　see　from　the　pattern　cuts　and　stitching　that　it　was　probably　made　by　the　girl　herself；　using　fabric　issued　to　her　by　the　workhouse。　The　fabrics　came　in　several　basic　colors…green；　blue；