the man who knew too much-第29章

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〃There　isn't　any；〃　said　Fisher。　〃That's　the　secret。〃　After　reflecting　a　moment；　he　added：　〃Unless　you　call　it　a　hole　in　the　wall　of　the　world。　Look　here；　I'll　tell　you　if　you　like；　but　I'm　afraid　it　involves　an　introduction。　You've　got　to　understand　one　of　the　tricks　of　the　modern　mind；　a　　tendency　that　most　people　obey　without　noticing　it。　In　the　village　or　suburb　outside　there's　an　inn　with　the　sign　of　St。　George　and　the　Dragon。　Now　suppose　I　went　about　telling　everybody　that　this　was　only　a　corruption　of　King　George　and　the　Dragoon。　Scores　of　people　would　believe　it；　without　any　inquiry；　from　a　vague　feeling　that　it's　probable　because　it's　prosaic。　It　turns　something　romantic　and　legendary　into　something　recent　and　ordinary。　And　that　somehow　makes　it　sound　rational；　though　it　is　unsupported　by　reason。　Of　course　some　people　would　have　the　sense　to　remember　having　seen　St。　George　in　old　Italian　pictures　and　French　romances；　but　a　good　many　wouldn't　think　about　it　at　all。　They　would　just　swallow　the　skepticism　because　it　was　skepticism。　Modern　intelligence　won't　accept　anything　on　authority。　But　it　will　accept　anything　without　authority。　That's　exactly　what　has　happened　here。

〃When　some　critic　or　other　chose　to　say　that　Prior's　Park　was　not　a　priory；　but　was　named　after　some　quite　modern　man　named　Prior；　nobody　　really　tested　the　theory　at　all。　It　never　occurred　to　anybody　repeating　the　story　to　ask　if　there　WAS　any　Mr。　Prior；　if　anybody　had　ever　seen　him　or　heard　of　him。　As　a　matter　of　fact；　it　was　a　priory；　and　shared　the　fate　of　most　prioriesthat　is；　the　Tudor　gentleman　with　the　plumes　simply　stole　it　by　brute　force　and　turned　it　into　his　own　private　house；　he　did　worse　things；　as　you　shall　hear。　But　the　point　here　is　that　this　is　how　the　trick　works；　and　the　trick　works　in　the　same　way　in　the　other　part　of　the　tale。　The　name　of　this　district　is　printed　Holinwall　in　all　the　best　maps　produced　by　the　scholars；　and　they　allude　lightly；　not　without　a　smile；　to　the　fact　that　it　was　pronounced　Holiwell　by　the　most　ignorant　and　old…fashioned　of　the　poor。　But　it　is　spelled　wrong　and　pronounced　right。〃

〃Do　you　mean　to　say；〃　asked　Crane；　quickly；　〃that　there　really　was　a　well？〃

〃There　is　a　well；〃　said　Fisher；　〃and　the　truth　lies　at　the　bottom　of　it。〃

As　he　spoke　he　stretched　out　his　hand　and　pointed　toward　the　sheet　of　water　in　front　of　him。

〃The　well　is　under　that　water　somewhere；〃　he　said；　〃and　this　is　not　the　first　tragedy　connected　　with　it。　The　founder　of　this　house　did　something　which　his　fellow　ruffians　very　seldom　did；　something　that　had　to　be　hushed　up　even　in　the　anarchy　of　the　pillage　of　the　monasteries。　The　well　was　connected　with　the　miracles　of　some　saint；　and　the　last　prior　that　guarded　it　was　something　like　a　saint　himself；　certainly　he　was　something　very　like　a　martyr。　He　defied　the　new　owner　and　dared　him　to　pollute　the　place；　till　the　noble；　in　a　fury；　stabbed　him　and　flung　his　body　into　the　well；　whither；　after　four　hundred　　years；　it　has　been　followed　by　an　heir　of　the　usurper；　clad　in　the　same　purple　and　walking　the　world　with　the　same　pride。〃

〃But　how　did　it　happen；〃　demanded　Crane；　〃that　for　the　first　time　Bulmer　fell　in　at　that　particular　spot？〃

〃Because　the　ice　was　only　loosened　at　that　particular　spot；　by　the　only　man　who　knew　it；〃　answered　Horne　Fisher。　〃It　was　cracked　deliberately；　with　the　kitchen　chopper；　at　that　special　place；　and　I　myself　heard　the　hammering　and　did　not　understand　it。　The　place　had　been　covered　with　an　artificial　lake；　if　only　because　the　whole　truth　had　to　be　covered　with　an　artificial　legend。　But　don't　you　see　that　it　is　exactly　what　those　pagan　nobles　would　have　done；　to　desecrate　it　with　a　sort　of　heathen　goddess；　as　the　Roman　Emperor　built　a　temple　to　Venus　on　the　Holy　Sepulchre。　But　the　truth　could　still　be　traced　out；　by　any　scholarly　man　determined　to　trace　it。　And　this　man　was　determined　to　trace　it。〃

〃What　man？〃　asked　the　other；　with　a　shadow　of　the　answer　in　his　mind。

〃The　only　man　who　has　an　alibi；〃　replied　Fisher。　〃James　Haddow；　the　antiquarian　lawyer；　left　the　night　before　the　fatality；　but　he　left　that　black　star　of　death　on　the　ice。　He　left　abruptly；　having　previously　proposed　to　stay；　probably；　I　think；　after　an　ugly　scene　with　Bulmer；　at　their　legal　interview。　As　you　know　yourself；　Bulmer　could　make　a　man　feel　pretty　murderous；　and　I　rather　fancy　the　lawyer　had　himself　irregularities　to　confess；　and　was　in　danger　of　exposure　by　his　client。　But　it's　my　reading　of　human　nature　that　a　man　will　cheat　in　his　trade；　but　not　in　his　hobby。　Haddow　may　have　been　a　dishonest　lawyer；　but　he　couldn't　help　being　an　honest　antiquary。　When　he　got　on　the　track　of　the　truth　about　the　Holy　Well　he　had　to　follow　it　up；　he　was　not　to　be　bamboozled　with　newspaper　anecdotes　about　Mr。　Prior　and　a　hole　in　the　wall；　he　found　out　everything；　even　to　the　exact　location　of　the　well；　and　he　was　rewarded；　if　being　a　successful　assassin　can　be　regarded　as　a　reward。〃

〃And　how　did　you　get　on　the　track　of　all　this　hidden　history？〃　asked　the　young　architect。

A　cloud　came　across　the　brow　of　Horne　Fisher。　〃I　knew　only　too　much　about　it　already；〃　he　said；　〃and；　after　all；　it's　shameful　for　me　to　be　speaking　lightly　of　poor　Bulmer；　who　has　paid　his　penalty；　but　the　rest　of　us　haven't。　I　dare　say　every　cigar　I　smoke　and　every　liqueur　I　drink　comes　directly　or　indirectly　from　the　harrying　of　the　holy　places　and　the　persecution　of　the　poor。　After　all；　it　needs　very　little　poking　about　in　the　past　to　find　that　hole　in　the　wall；　that　great　breach　in　the　defenses　of　English　history。　It　lies　just　under　the　surface　of　a　thin　sheet　of　sham　information　and　instruction；　just　as　the　black　and　blood…stained　well　lies　just　under　that　floor　of　shallow　water　and　flat　weeds。　Oh；　the　ice　is　thin；　but　it　bears；　it　is　strong　enough　to　support　us　when　we　dress　up　as　monks　and　dance　on　it；　in　mockery　of　the　dear；　quaint　old　Middle　Ages。　They　told　me　I　must　put　on　fancy　dress；　so　I　did　put　on　fancy　dress；　according　to　my　own　taste　and　fancy。　I　put　on　the　only　costume　I　think　fit　for　a　man　who　has　inherited　the　position　of　a　gentleman；　and　yet　has　not　entirely　lost　the　feelings　of　one。〃

In　answer　to　a　look　of　inquiry；　he　rose　with　a　sweeping　and　downward　gesture。

〃Sackcloth；〃　he　said；　〃and　I　would　wear　the　ashes　as　well　if　they　would　stay　on　my　bald　head。〃



VII。　THE　TEMPLE　OF　SILENCE

Harold　March　and　the　few　who　cultivated　the　friendship　of　Horne　Fisher；　especially　if　they　saw　something　of　him　in　his　own　social　setting；　were　conscious　of　a　certain　solitude　in　his　very　sociability。　They　seemed　to　be　always　meeting　his　relations　and　never　meeting　his　family。　Perhaps　it　would　be　truer　to　say　that　they　saw　much　of　his　family　and　nothing　of　his　home。　His　cousins　and　connections　ramified　like　a　labyrinth　all　over　the　governing　class　of　Great　Britain；　and　he　seemed　to　be　on　good；　or　at　least　on　good…　humored；　terms　with　most　of　them。　For　Horne　Fisher　was　remarkable　for　a　curious　impersonal　information　and　interest　touching　all　sorts　of　topics；　so　that　one　could　sometimes　fancy　that　his　culture；　like　his　colorless；　fair　mustache　and　pale；　drooping　features；　had　the　neutral　nature　of　a　chameleon。　Anyhow；　he　could　always　get　on　with　viceroys　and　Cabinet　Ministers　and　all　the　great　men　responsible　for　great　departments；　and　talk　to　each　of　them　on　his　own　subject；　on　the　branch　of　study　with　which　he　was　most　seriously　concerned。　Thus　he　could　　converse　with　the　Minister　for　War　about　silkworms；　with　the　Minister　of　Education　about　detective　stories；　with　the　Minister　of　Labor　about　Limoges　enamel；　and　with　the　Minister　of　Missions　and　Moral　Progress　（if　that　be　his　correct　title）　about　the　pantomime　boys　of　the　last　four　decades。　And　as　the　first　was　his　first　cousin；　the　second　his　second　cousin；　the　third　his　brother…in…law；　and　the　fourth　his　uncle　by　marriage；　this　conversational　versatility　certainly　served　in　one　sense　to　create　a　happy　family。　But　March　never　seemed　to　get　a　glimpse　of　that　domestic　interior　to　which　men　of　the　middle　classes　are　accustomed　in　their　friendships；　and　which　is　indeed　the　foundation　of　friendship　and　love　and　everything　else　in　any　sane　and　stable　society。　He