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the innocence of father brown-第49章
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he wall of another wood。 The entrance to the farther forest looked small and round; like the black hole of a remote railway tunnel。 But it was within some hundred yards; and gaped like a cavern before Flambeau spoke again。 〃I've got it;〃 he cried at last; slapping his thigh with his great hand。 〃Four minutes' thinking; and I can tell your whole story myself。〃 〃All right;〃 assented his friend。 〃You tell it。〃 Flambeau lifted his head; but lowered his voice。 〃General Sir Arthur St。 Clare;〃 he said; 〃came of a family in which madness was hereditary; and his whole aim was to keep this from his daughter; and even; if possible; from his future son…in…law。 Rightly or wrongly; he thought the final collapse was close; and resolved on suicide。 Yet ordinary suicide would blazon the very idea he dreaded。 As the campaign approached the clouds came thicker on his brain; and at last in a mad moment he sacrificed his public duty to his private。 He rushed rashly into battle; hoping to fall by the first shot。 When he found that he had only attained capture and discredit; the sealed bomb in his brain burst; and he broke his own sword and hanged himself。〃 He stared firmly at the grey facade of forest in front of him; with the one black gap in it; like the mouth of the grave; into which their path plunged。 Perhaps something menacing in the road thus suddenly swallowed reinforced his vivid vision of the tragedy; for he shuddered。 〃A horrid story;〃 he said。 〃A horrid story;〃 repeated the priest with bent head。 〃But not the real story。〃 Then he threw back his head with a sort of despair and cried: 〃Oh; I wish it had been。〃 The tall Flambeau faced round and stared at him。 〃Yours is a clean story;〃 cried Father Brown; deeply moved。 〃A sweet; pure; honest story; as open and white as that moon。 Madness and despair are innocent enough。 There are worse things; Flambeau。〃 Flambeau looked up wildly at the moon thus invoked; and from where he stood one black tree…bough curved across it exactly like a devil's horn。 〃Fatherfather;〃 cried Flambeau with the French gesture and stepping yet more rapidly forward; 〃do you mean it was worse than that?〃 〃Worse than that;〃 said Paul like a grave echo。 And they plunged into the black cloister of the woodland; which ran by them in a dim tapestry of trunks; like one of the dark corridors in a dream。 They were soon in the most secret entrails of the wood; and felt close about them foliage that they could not see; when the priest said again: 〃Where does a wise man hide a leaf? In the forest。 But what does he do if there is no forest?〃 〃Well; well;〃 cried Flambeau irritably; 〃what does he do?〃 〃He grows a forest to hide it in;〃 said the priest in an obscure voice。 〃A fearful sin。〃 〃Look here;〃 cried his friend impatiently; for the dark wood and the dark saying got a little on his nerves; will you tell me this story or not? What other evidence is there to go on?〃 〃There are three more bits of evidence;〃 said the other; 〃that I have dug up in holes and corners; and I will give them in logical rather than chronological order。 First of all; of course; our authority for the issue and event of the battle is in Olivier's own dispatches; which are lucid enough。 He was entrenched with two or three regiments on the heights that swept down to the Black River; on the other side of which was lower and more marshy ground。 Beyond this again was gently rising country; on which was the first English outpost; supported by others which lay; however; considerably in its rear。 The British forces as a whole were greatly superior in numbers; but this particular regiment was just far enough from its base to make Olivier consider the project of crossing the river to cut it off。 By sunset; however; he had decided to retain his own position; which was a specially strong one。 At daybreak next morning he was thunderstruck to see that this stray handful of English; entirely unsupported from their rear; had flung themselves across the river; half by a bridge to the right; and the other half by a ford higher up; and were massed upon the marshy bank below him。 〃That they should attempt an attack with such numbers against such a position was incredible enough; but Olivier noticed something yet more extraordinary。 For instead of attempting to seize more solid ground; this mad regiment; having put the river in its rear by one wild charge; did nothing more; but stuck there in the mire like flies in treacle。 Needless to say; the Brazilians blew great gaps in them with artillery; which they could only return with spirited but lessening rifle fire。 Yet they never broke; and Olivier's curt account ends with a strong tribute of admiration for the mystic valour of these imbeciles。 ‘Our line then advanced finally;' writes Olivier; ‘and drove them into the river; we captured General St。 Clare himself and several other officers。 The colonel and the major had both fallen in the battle。 I cannot resist saying that few finer sights can have been seen in history than the last stand of this extraordinary regiment; wounded officers picking up the rifles of dead soldiers; and the general himself facing us on horseback bareheaded and with a broken sword。' On what happened to the general afterwards Olivier is as silent as Captain Keith。〃 〃Well;〃 grunted Flambeau; 〃get on to the next bit of evidence。〃 〃The next evidence;〃 said Father Brown; 〃took some time to find; but it will not take long to tell。 I found at last in an almshouse down in the Lincolnshire Fens an old soldier who not only was wounded at the Black River; but had actually knelt beside the colonel of the regiment when he died。 This latter was a certain Colonel Clancy; a big bull of an Irishman; and it would seem that he died almost as much of rage as of bullets。 He; at any rate; was not responsible for that ridiculous raid; it must have been imposed on him by the general。 His last edifying words; according to my informant; were these: ‘And there goes the damned old donkey with the end of his sword knocked off。 I wish it was his head。' You will remark that everyone seems to have noticed this detail about the broken sword blade; though most people regard it somewhat more reverently than did the late Colonel Clancy。 And now for the third fragment。〃 Their path through the woodland began to go upward; and the speaker paused a little for breath before he went on。 Then he continued in the same business…like tone: 〃Only a month or two ago a certain Brazilian official died in England; having quarrelled with Olivier and left his country。 He was a well…known figure both here and on the Continent; a Spaniard named Espado; I knew him myself; a yellow…faced old dandy; with a hooked nose。 For various private reasons I had permission to see the documents he had left; he was a Catholic; of course; and I had been with him towards the end。 There was nothing of his that lit up any corner of the black St。 Clare business; except five or six common exercise books filled with the diary of some English soldier。 I can only suppose that it was found by the Brazilians on one of those that fell。 Anyhow; it stopped abruptly the night before the battle。 〃But the account of that last day in the poor fellow's life was certainly worth reading。 I have it on me; but it's too dark to read it here; and I will give you a resume。 The first part of that entry is full of jokes; evidently flung about among the men; about somebody called the Vulture。 It does not seem as if this person; whoever he was; was one of themselves; nor even an Englishman; neither is he exactly spoken of as one of the enemy。 It sounds rather as if he were some local go…between and non…combatant; perhaps a guide or a journalist。 He has been closeted with old Colonel Clancy; but is more often seen talking to the major。 Indeed; the major is somewhat prominent in this soldier's narrative; a lean; dark…haired man; apparently; of the name of Murraya north of Ireland man and a Puritan。 There are continual jests about the contrast between this Ulsterman's austerity and the conviviality of Colonel Clancy。 There is also some joke about the Vulture wearing bright…
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