the innocence of father brown-第4章

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and　even　with　few　windows；　streets　that　seemed　built　out　of　the　blank　backs　of　everything　and　everywhere。　　Dusk　was　deepening；　and　it　was　not　easy　even　for　the　London　policemen　to　guess　in　what　exact　direction　they　were　treading。　　The　inspector；　however；　was　pretty　certain　that　they　would　eventually　strike　some　part　of　Hampstead　Heath。　　Abruptly　one　bulging　gas…lit　window　broke　the　blue　twilight　like　a　bull's…eye　lantern；　and　Valentin　stopped　an　instant　before　a　little　garish　sweetstuff　shop。　　After　an　instant's　hesitation　he　went　in；　he　stood　amid　the　gaudy　colours　of　the　confectionery　with　entire　gravity　and　bought　thirteen　chocolate　cigars　with　a　certain　care。　He　was　clearly　preparing　an　opening；　but　he　did　not　need　one。　　　　　An　angular；　elderly　young　woman　in　the　shop　had　regarded　his　elegant　appearance　with　a　merely　automatic　inquiry；　but　when　she　saw　the　door　behind　him　blocked　with　the　blue　uniform　of　the　inspector；　her　eyes　seemed　to　wake　up。　　　　　〃Oh；〃　she　said；　〃if　you've　come　about　that　parcel；　I've　sent　it　off　already。〃　　　　　〃Parcel？〃　repeated　Valentin；　and　it　was　his　turn　to　look　inquiring。　　　　　〃I　mean　the　parcel　the　gentleman　leftthe　clergyman　gentleman。〃　　　　　〃For　goodness'　sake；〃　said　Valentin；　leaning　forward　with　his　first　real　confession　of　eagerness；　〃for　Heaven's　sake　tell　us　what　happened　exactly。〃　　　　　〃Well；〃　said　the　woman　a　little　doubtfully；　〃the　clergymen　came　in　about　half　an　hour　ago　and　bought　some　peppermints　and　talked　a　bit；　and　then　went　off　towards　the　Heath。　　But　a　second　after；　one　of　them　runs　back　into　the　shop　and　says；　‘Have　I　left　a　parcel！'　　Well；　I　looked　everywhere　and　couldn't　see　one；　so　he　says；　‘Never　mind；　but　if　it　should　turn　up；　please　post　it　to　this　address；'　and　he　left　me　the　address　and　a　shilling　for　my　trouble。　　And　sure　enough；　though　I　thought　I'd　looked　everywhere；　I　found　he'd　left　a　brown　paper　parcel；　so　I　posted　it　to　the　place　he　said。　　I　can't　remember　the　address　now；　it　was　somewhere　in　Westminster。　　But　as　the　thing　seemed　so　important；　I　thought　perhaps　the　police　had　come　about　it。〃　　　　　〃So　they　have；〃　said　Valentin　shortly。　　〃Is　Hampstead　Heath　near　here？〃　　　　　〃Straight　on　for　fifteen　minutes；〃　said　the　woman；　〃and　you'll　come　right　out　on　the　open。〃　　Valentin　sprang　out　of　the　shop　and　began　to　run。　　The　other　detectives　followed　him　at　a　reluctant　trot。　　　　　The　street　they　threaded　was　so　narrow　and　shut　in　by　shadows　that　when　they　came　out　unexpectedly　into　the　void　common　and　vast　sky　they　were　startled　to　find　the　evening　still　so　light　and　clear。　　A　perfect　dome　of　peacock…green　sank　into　gold　amid　the　blackening　trees　and　the　dark　violet　distances。　　The　glowing　green　tint　was　just　deep　enough　to　pick　out　in　points　of　crystal　one　or　two　stars。　　All　that　was　left　of　the　daylight　lay　in　a　golden　glitter　across　the　edge　of　Hampstead　and　that　popular　hollow　which　is　called　the　Vale　of　Health。　　The　holiday　makers　who　roam　this　region　had　not　wholly　dispersed；　a　few　couples　sat　shapelessly　on　benches；　and　here　and　there　a　distant　girl　still　shrieked　in　one　of　the　swings。　　The　glory　of　heaven　deepened　and　darkened　around　the　sublime　vulgarity　of　man；　and　standing　on　the　slope　and　looking　across　the　valley；　Valentin　beheld　the　thing　which　he　sought。　　　　　Among　the　black　and　breaking　groups　in　that　distance　was　one　especially　black　which　did　not　breaka　group　of　two　figures　clerically　clad。　　Though　they　seemed　as　small　as　insects；　Valentin　could　see　that　one　of　them　was　much　smaller　than　the　other。　Though　the　other　had　a　student's　stoop　and　an　inconspicuous　manner；　he　could　see　that　the　man　was　well　over　six　feet　high。　　He　shut　his　teeth　and　went　forward；　whirling　his　stick　impatiently。　　By　the　time　he　had　substantially　diminished　the　distance　and　magnified　the　two　black　figures　as　in　a　vast　microscope；　he　had　perceived　something　else；　something　which　startled　him；　and　yet　which　he　had　somehow　expected。　　Whoever　was　the　tall　priest；　there　could　be　no　doubt　about　the　identity　of　the　short　one。　　It　was　his　friend　of　the　Harwich　train；　the　stumpy　little　cure　of　Essex　whom　he　had　warned　about　his　brown　paper　parcels。　　　　　Now；　so　far　as　this　went；　everything　fitted　in　finally　and　rationally　enough。　　Valentin　had　learned　by　his　inquiries　that　morning　that　a　Father　Brown　from　Essex　was　bringing　up　a　silver　cross　with　sapphires；　a　relic　of　considerable　value；　to　show　some　of　the　foreign　priests　at　the　congress。　　This　undoubtedly　was　the　〃silver　with　blue　stones〃；　and　Father　Brown　undoubtedly　was　the　little　greenhorn　in　the　train。　　Now　there　was　nothing　wonderful　about　the　fact　that　what　Valentin　had　found　out　Flambeau　had　also　found　out；　Flambeau　found　out　everything。　　Also　there　was　nothing　wonderful　in　the　fact　that　when　Flambeau　heard　of　a　sapphire　cross　he　should　try　to　steal　it；　that　was　the　most　natural　thing　in　all　natural　history。　　And　most　certainly　there　was　nothing　wonderful　about　the　fact　that　Flambeau　should　have　it　all　his　own　way　with　such　a　silly　sheep　as　the　man　with　the　umbrella　and　the　parcels。　He　was　the　sort　of　man　whom　anybody　could　lead　on　a　string　to　the　North　Pole；　it　was　not　surprising　that　an　actor　like　Flambeau；　dressed　as　another　priest；　could　lead　him　to　Hampstead　Heath。　　So　far　the　crime　seemed　clear　enough；　and　while　the　detective　pitied　the　priest　for　his　helplessness；　he　almost　despised　Flambeau　for　condescending　to　so　gullible　a　victim。　　But　when　Valentin　thought　of　all　that　had　happened　in　between；　of　all　that　had　led　him　to　his　triumph；　he　racked　his　brains　for　the　smallest　rhyme　or　reason　in　it。　　What　had　the　stealing　of　a　blue…and…silver　cross　from　a　priest　from　Essex　to　do　with　chucking　soup　at　wall　paper？　　What　had　it　to　do　with　calling　nuts　oranges；　or　with　paying　for　windows　first　and　breaking　them　afterwards？　　He　had　come　to　the　end　of　his　chase；　yet　somehow　he　had　missed　the　middle　of　it。　　When　he　failed　（which　was　seldom）；　he　had　usually　grasped　the　clue；　but　nevertheless　missed　the　criminal。　　Here　he　had　grasped　the　criminal；　but　still　he　could　not　grasp　the　clue。　　　　　The　two　figures　that　they　followed　were　crawling　like　black　flies　across　the　huge　green　contour　of　a　hill。　　They　were　evidently　sunk　in　conversation；　and　perhaps　did　not　notice　where　they　were　going；　but　they　were　certainly　going　to　the　wilder　and　more　silent　heights　of　the　Heath。　　As　their　pursuers　gained　on　them；　the　latter　had　to　use　the　undignified　attitudes　of　the　deer…stalker；　to　crouch　behind　clumps　of　trees　and　even　to　crawl　prostrate　in　deep　grass。　　By　these　ungainly　ingenuities　the　hunters　even　came　close　enough　to　the　quarry　to　hear　the　murmur　of　the　discussion；　but　no　word　could　be　distinguished　except　the　word　〃reason〃　recurring　frequently　in　a　high　and　almost　childish　voice。　　Once　over　an　abrupt　dip　of　land　and　a　dense　tangle　of　thickets；　the　detectives　actually　lost　the　two　figures　they　were　following。　They　did　not　find　the　trail　again　for　an　agonising　ten　minutes；　and　then　it　led　round　the　brow　of　a　great　dome　of　hill　overlooking　an　amphitheatre　of　rich　and　desolate　sunset　scenery。　　Under　a　tree　in　this　commanding　yet　neglected　spot　was　an　old　ramshackle　wooden　seat。　　On　this　seat　sat　the　two　priests　still　in　serious　speech　together。　　The　gorgeous　green　and　gold　still　clung　to　the　darkening　horizon；　but　the　dome　above　was　turning　slowly　from　peacock…green　to　peacock…blue；　and　the　stars　detached　themselves　more　and　more　like　solid　jewels。　　Mutely　motioning　to　his　followers；　Valentin　contrived　to　creep　up　behind　the　big　branching　tree；　and；　standing　there　in　deathly　silence；　heard　the　words　of　the　strange　priests　for　the　first　time。　　　　　After　he　had　listened　for　a　minute　and　a　half；　he　was　gripped　by　a　devilish　doubt。　　Perhaps　he　had　dragged　the　two　English　policemen　to　the　wastes　of　a　nocturnal　heath　on　an　errand　no　saner　than　seeking　figs　on　its　thistles。　　For　the　two　priests　were　talking　exactly　like　priests；　piously；　with　learning　and　leisure；　about　the　most　aerial　enigmas　of　theology。　　The　little　Essex　priest　spoke　the　more　simply；　with　his　round　face　turned　to　the　strengthening　stars；　the　other　talked　with　his　head　bowed；　as　if　he　were　not　even　worthy　to　look　at　them。　　But　no　more　innocently　clerical　conversation　could　have　been　heard　in　any　white