the innocence of father brown-第25章

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　tut；　tut；　tut！〃　he　cried。　　〃All　that　is　as　plain　as　a　pikestaff。　　I　understood　the　snuff　and　clockwork；　and　so　on；　when　I　first　opened　my　eyes　this　morning。　　And　since　then　I've　had　it　out　with　old　Gow；　the　gardener；　who　is　neither　so　deaf　nor　so　stupid　as　he　pretends。　　There's　nothing　amiss　about　the　loose　items。　　I　was　wrong　about　the　torn　mass…book；　too；　there's　no　harm　in　that。　　But　it's　this　last　business。　　Desecrating　graves　and　stealing　dead　men's　headssurely　there's　harm　in　that？　　Surely　there's　black　magic　still　in　that？　　That　doesn't　fit　in　to　the　quite　simple　story　of　the　snuff　and　the　candles。〃　　And；　striding　about　again；　he　smoked　moodily。　　　　　〃My　friend；〃　said　Flambeau；　with　a　grim　humour；　〃you　must　be　careful　with　me　and　remember　I　was　once　a　criminal。　　The　great　advantage　of　that　estate　was　that　I　always　made　up　the　story　myself；　and　acted　it　as　quick　as　I　chose。　　This　detective　business　of　waiting　about　is　too　much　for　my　French　impatience。　　All　my　life；　for　good　or　evil；　I　have　done　things　at　the　instant；　I　always　fought　duels　the　next　morning；　I　always　paid　bills　on　the　nail；　I　never　even　put　off　a　visit　to　the　dentist〃　　　　　Father　Brown's　pipe　fell　out　of　his　mouth　and　broke　into　three　pieces　on　the　gravel　path。　　He　stood　rolling　his　eyes；　the　exact　picture　of　an　idiot。　　〃Lord；　what　a　turnip　I　am！〃　he　kept　saying。　〃Lord；　what　a　turnip！〃　　Then；　in　a　somewhat　groggy　kind　of　way；　he　began　to　laugh。　　　　　〃The　dentist！〃　he　repeated。　　〃Six　hours　in　the　spiritual　abyss；　and　all　because　I　never　thought　of　the　dentist！　　Such　a　simple；　such　a　beautiful　and　peaceful　thought！　　Friends；　we　have　passed　a　night　in　hell；　but　now　the　sun　is　risen；　the　birds　are　singing；　and　the　radiant　form　of　the　dentist　consoles　the　world。〃　　　　　〃I　will　get　some　sense　out　of　this；〃　cried　Flambeau；　striding　forward；　〃if　I　use　the　tortures　of　the　Inquisition。〃　　　　　Father　Brown　repressed　what　appeared　to　be　a　momentary　disposition　to　dance　on　the　now　sunlit　lawn　and　cried　quite　piteously；　like　a　child；　〃Oh；　let　me　be　silly　a　little。　　You　don't　know　how　unhappy　I　have　been。　　And　now　I　know　that　there　has　been　no　deep　sin　in　this　business　at　all。　　Only　a　little　lunacy；　perhaps　and　who　minds　that？〃　　　　　He　spun　round　once　more；　then　faced　them　with　gravity。　　　　　〃This　is　not　a　story　of　crime；〃　he　said；　〃rather　it　is　the　story　of　a　strange　and　crooked　honesty。　　We　are　dealing　with　the　one　man　on　earth；　perhaps；　who　has　taken　no　more　than　his　due。　　It　is　a　study　in　the　savage　living　logic　that　has　been　the　religion　of　this　race。　　　　　〃That　old　local　rhyme　about　the　house　of　Glengyle　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　As　green　sap　to　the　simmer　trees　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Is　red　gold　to　the　Ogilvies　was　literal　as　well　as　metaphorical。　　It　did　not　merely　mean　that　the　Glengyles　sought　for　wealth；　it　was　also　true　that　they　literally　gathered　gold；　they　had　a　huge　collection　of　ornaments　and　utensils　in　that　metal。　　They　were；　in　fact；　misers　whose　mania　took　that　turn。　　In　the　light　of　that　fact；　run　through　all　the　things　we　found　in　the　castle。　　Diamonds　without　their　gold　rings；　candles　without　their　gold　candlesticks；　snuff　without　the　gold　snuff…boxes；　pencil…leads　without　the　gold　pencil…cases；　a　walking　stick　without　its　gold　top；　clockwork　without　the　gold　clocksor　rather　watches。　　And；　mad　as　it　sounds；　because　the　halos　and　the　name　of　God　in　the　old　missals　were　of　real　gold；　these　also　were　taken　away。〃　　　　　The　garden　seemed　to　brighten；　the　grass　to　grow　gayer　in　the　strengthening　sun；　as　the　crazy　truth　was　told。　　Flambeau　lit　a　cigarette　as　his　friend　went　on。　　　　　〃Were　taken　away；〃　continued　Father　Brown；　〃were　taken　away　but　not　stolen。　　Thieves　would　never　have　left　this　mystery。　Thieves　would　have　taken　the　gold　snuff…boxes；　snuff　and　all；　the　gold　pencil…cases；　lead　and　all。　　We　have　to　deal　with　a　man　with　a　peculiar　conscience；　but　certainly　a　conscience。　　I　found　that　mad　moralist　this　morning　in　the　kitchen　garden　yonder；　and　I　heard　the　whole　story。　　　　　〃The　late　Archibald　Ogilvie　was　the　nearest　approach　to　a　good　man　ever　born　at　Glengyle。　　But　his　bitter　virtue　took　the　turn　of　the　misanthrope；　he　moped　over　the　dishonesty　of　his　ancestors；　from　which；　somehow；　he　generalised　a　dishonesty　of　all　men。　　More　especially　he　distrusted　philanthropy　or　free…giving；　and　he　swore　if　he　could　find　one　man　who　took　his　exact　rights　he　should　have　all　the　gold　of　Glengyle。　　Having　delivered　this　defiance　to　humanity　he　shut　himself　up；　without　the　smallest　expectation　of　its　being　answered。　　One　day；　however；　a　deaf　and　seemingly　senseless　lad　from　a　distant　village　brought　him　a　belated　telegram；　and　Glengyle；　in　his　acrid　pleasantry；　gave　him　a　new　farthing。　　At　least　he　thought　he　had　done　so；　but　when　he　turned　over　his　change　he　found　the　new　farthing　still　there　and　a　sovereign　gone。　　The　accident　offered　him　vistas　of　sneering　speculation。　　Either　way；　the　boy　would　show　the　greasy　greed　of　the　species。　　Either　he　would　vanish；　a　thief　stealing　a　coin；　or　he　would　sneak　back　with　it　virtuously；　a　snob　seeking　a　reward。　In　the　middle　of　that　night　Lord　Glengyle　was　knocked　up　out　of　his　bedfor　he　lived　aloneand　forced　to　open　the　door　to　the　deaf　idiot。　　The　idiot　brought　with　him；　not　the　sovereign；　but　exactly　nineteen　shillings　and　eleven…pence　three…farthings　in　change。　　　　　〃Then　the　wild　exactitude　of　this　action　took　hold　of　the　mad　lord's　brain　like　fire。　　He　swore　he　was　Diogenes；　that　had　long　sought　an　honest　man；　and　at　last　had　found　one。　　He　made　a　new　will；　which　I　have　seen。　　He　took　the　literal　youth　into　his　huge；　neglected　house；　and　trained　him　up　as　his　solitary　servant　and　after　an　odd　mannerhis　heir。　　And　whatever　that　queer　creature　understands；　he　understood　absolutely　his　lord's　two　fixed　ideas：　first；　that　the　letter　of　right　is　everything；　and　second；　that　he　himself　was　to　have　the　gold　of　Glengyle。　　So　far；　that　is　all；　and　that　is　simple。　　He　has　stripped　the　house　of　gold；　and　taken　not　a　grain　that　was　not　gold；　not　so　much　as　a　grain　of　snuff。　　He　lifted　the　gold　leaf　off　an　old　illumination；　fully　satisfied　that　he　left　the　rest　unspoilt。　　All　that　I　understood；　but　I　could　not　understand　this　skull　business。　I　was　really　uneasy　about　that　human　head　buried　among　the　potatoes。　　It　distressed　metill　Flambeau　said　the　word。　　　　　〃It　will　be　all　right。　　He　will　put　the　skull　back　in　the　grave；　when　he　has　taken　the　gold　out　of　the　tooth。〃　　　　　And；　indeed；　when　Flambeau　crossed　the　hill　that　morning；　he　saw　that　strange　being；　the　just　miser；　digging　at　the　desecrated　grave；　the　plaid　round　his　throat　thrashing　out　in　the　mountain　wind；　the　sober　top　hat　on　his　head。



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Wrong　Shape

Certain　of　the　great　roads　going　north　out　of　London　continue　far　into　the　country　a　sort　of　attenuated　and　interrupted　spectre　of　a　street；　with　great　gaps　in　the　building；　but　preserving　the　line。　Here　will　be　a　group　of　shops；　followed　by　a　fenced　field　or　paddock；　and　then　a　famous　public…house；　and　then　perhaps　a　market　garden　or　a　nursery　garden；　and　then　one　large　private　house；　and　then　another　field　and　another　inn；　and　so　on。　　If　anyone　walks　along　one　of　these　roads　he　will　pass　a　house　which　will　probably　catch　his　eye；　though　he　may　not　be　able　to　explain　its　attraction。　It　is　a　long；　low　house；　running　parallel　with　the　road；　painted　mostly　white　and　pale　green；　with　a　veranda　and　sun…blinds；　and　porches　capped　with　those　quaint　sort　of　cupolas　like　wooden　umbrellas　that　one　sees　in　some　old…fashioned　houses。　　In　fact；　it　is　an　old…fashioned　house；　very　English　and　very　suburban　in　the　good　old　wealthy　Clapham　sense。　　And　yet　the　house　has　a　look　of　having　been　built　chiefly　for　the　hot　weather。　　Looking　at　its　white　paint　and　sun…blinds　one　thinks　vaguely　of　pugarees　and　even　of　palm　trees。　　I　cannot　trace　the　feeling　to　its　root；　perhaps　the　place　was　built　by　an　Anglo…Indian。　　　　　Anyone　passing　this　house；　I　say；　would　be　namelessly　fascinated　by　it；　would　feel　that　it　was　a　place　about　which　some　story　was　to　be　told。　　And　he　would　have　been　right；　as　you　shall　shortly　hear。　　For　this　is　the　storythe　story　of　the　strange　things　that　did　really　happen　in　it　in　the　Whitsuntide　of　the　year　18：　　　　　Anyone　passing　the　house　on　the　Thursday　before　WhitSunday　at　about　half…past　four　p。m。　would　have　seen　the　front　door　open；　and　Father　Brown；　of　the　small　church　of　St。　Mungo；　come　out　smoking　a　large　pipe　in　company　with　a　very　tall　French　friend　of　his　called　Flambeau；　who　was　smoking　a　very　small　cigarette。　　These　persons　may　or　may　not　be　of　interest　to　the　reader；　but　the　truth　is　that　they　were　not　the　only　interesting　things　that　were　displayed　when　the　front　door　of　the　white…and…green　house　was　opened。　　There　are　further　peculiarities　about　this　house；　which　must　be　described　to　start　with；　not　only　that　the　reader　may　understand　this　tragic　tale；　but　also　that　he　may　realise　what　it　was　that　the　opening　of　the　door　revealed。　　　　　The　whole　house　was　built　upon　the　plan　of　a　T；　but　a　T　with　a　very　long　cross　piece　and　a　very　short　tail　piece。　　The　long　cross　piece　was　the　frontage　that　ran　along　in　face　of　the　street；　with　the　front　door　in　the　middle；　it　was　two　stories　high；　and　contained　nearly　all　the