雙語·灼人的秘密 襲擊

With a catch in his breath, Edgar withdrew from the window. He was terribly shaken. Never had he been so near to discovering the riddle. Excitement, adventure, murder, betrayal, these had been no more than tales a boy reads of in books, dream events, unreal, unattainable. Now, of a sudden, he felt that this awful world of risk and enterprise had roped him in, had made of him a participant. He was alarmed and pleased at so unexpected an initiation.

“I wonder what kind of a man this is who has come into our lives....Can he really be a murderer? If not, why does he want to lure my mother into dark and lonely places?”

Something terrible seemed impending, and yet the boy did not know what steps to take in order to avert the evil. Of one thing he was certain: To-morrow he would write or wire to his father. But might not that be too late? Who could tell what would happen this very night? Mother had not come up to her room; she must still be with that wretch....

Between one door and the other of their rooms, which were in suite, was a small lobby. Here Edgar ensconced himself, determined not to miss his chance of hearing whatever happened in the corridor. At length he heard their steps. He strained every nerve to catch what they were saying and doing.

How slow they were—just as though they were climbing a mountain, not in the least as if they were making for their rooms, tired, after a pleasant evening together. They were constantly stopping and whispering. The boy trembled with mental torment. He would have given almost anything to hear what they were saying. Still, he knew they were coming his way. But, oh, how slowly! Now he could hear the baron pleading. Now his mother’s voice saying: “No. Not to-night. No.”

Edgar shivered. Every step that brought them nearer him caused him fresh agony. Then he heard the detested voice pleading:

“Please, please. Don’t say no. You’ve been so adorable the whole evening....”

And his mother, frightened, on the defensive, answering:

“I dare not. No, really, not to-night. I beg you, let me go.”

Again Edgar wondered what the baron wanted her to do and why his mother was so alarmed. Now they came to a standstill opposite the door behind which the child was lurking. He could hear them so clearly that they might have been in the same room with him.

“Come along, Mathilde, do! Please, please.”

His mother sighed; her protests became weaker. Hullo! What was happening? Frau Blumental did not enter her room, she passed along the passage. What did this mean? Why were they no longer talking together? Was it possible that the wretch had gagged her and was now in the act of throttling her?

Maddened with alarm, the child opened the door only a crack, but through this he could see what was going on. The baron had his arm round his mother’s waist and was cajoling her into acquiescence. She seemed to be nothing loath. Arrived at Sternfeldt’s door they stopped.

“Now he’s going to commit the crime,” thought the boy, his head filled with reminiscences of penny dreadful stories.

Banging the door behind him, he stampeded down the passage and butted in upon the lovers. His mother drew abruptly aside, alarmed by the sudden onslaught. Then she dropped as if in a faint, and was caught in the baron’s arms. At the same time, the baron became aware of two small fists pummelling his face, bashing his lips against his teeth, and nails scratching him like a cat’s claws. The alarmed woman quickly took to her heels, while the man hit back at his assailant before grasping who it was.

Edgar was only too conscious of the fact that his puny strength could not hold out against the vigorous onslaught of a man in the prime of life. Nevertheless he determined to do his best, and at least to show the intensity of his hatred. He banged away with all his might, his lips set firm, his teeth clenched. By now the baron had recognized the spy, and gave the lad a generous drubbing. He was furious at having his holiday ruined by this tiresome young monkey. Edgar suffered without uttering a sound. The struggle continued for several minutes in the dimly lighted passage until Sternfeldt, growing aware how ludicrous was this encounter between a man and a child, tried to seize Edgar by the nape and hold the boy at arm’s length. Feeling that he would be overpowered by the man’s superior strength and longer reach, the youngster turned savagely and clenched his teeth in Sternfeldt’s right hand. A low growl issued from the baron’s throat he relaxed his grip, and before he could recover his presence of mind Edgar was back in his own room and had bolted the door.

No one had been aware of this midnight affray. All were asleep. Everything was as still and silent as the tomb. Otto wiped the blood from his hand with a handkerchief. He peered uneasily into the dark recesses of the corridor. Not a soul to be seen! And yet, up there, was there not a light, flickering in the draught and a low, mocking laugh?