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非洲的百万富翁|Millionaire in Africa

第四章　蒂罗尔城堡|Chapter IV The Episode of the Tyrolean Castle

属类： 双语小说 【分类】双语小说 -[作者: 格兰特-艾伦] 阅读：[13605]
《非洲的百万富翁》讲述了骗子克雷上校与查尔斯爵士斗智斗勇的故事.克雷上校通过伪装成不同的身份,如墨西哥先知,小牧师理查德·佩普洛·布拉巴宗,施莱尔马赫教授等欺骗查尔斯,令查尔斯防不胜防.而案情的揭露则是通过克雷上校在事后给查尔斯发来的羞辱信,把他实施作案的过程揭露出来的.最终,克雷上校受到了法律的制裁
《 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 字+字- 行+行- 页+页- 》
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我们去了梅兰。实际上，这个地方是艾米莉亚的法国女仆替我们定的。在这种事情上，她就是我们的向导和情报员。

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艾米莉亚的这位法国女仆非常聪明。无论我们去哪儿，选哪家酒店，住哪家带家具的别墅，艾米莉亚一般都会问问（并接受）她的建议。西塞琳早已把整个欧洲大陆都转遍了，并且，她是阿尔萨斯人，当然德语说得跟法语一样流利。此外，她长期同艾米莉亚在一起生活，这让她把我们的母语英语也说得同样上口。那位姑娘，是个不可多得的万事通；她干净利落、敏捷灵巧，不论让她做什么事，都能得心应手。不管走到哪儿，她都一手拿着针线盒，一手拿着小酒精炉。她偶尔会做个煎蛋卷，也能驾驭挪威雪橇；她会针线，能编织，会做衣服，也能治感冒，你要她做什么，全都能做得来。她做的沙拉，是我尝过最可口的。说到她煮的咖啡（她在我们坐火车长途旅行时准备的），在西区俱乐部里，没有哪位主厨能和她相提并论。

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因此，当艾米莉亚颐指气使地说道：“西塞琳，我们打算去蒂罗尔——现在十月中旬——立刻就动身，你建议我们住在哪里？”西塞琳旋即答道：“夫人，要是秋天，肯定就是约翰大公爵了，在梅兰。”

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“他是——大公爵吗？”艾米莉亚问道，看到她同皇室的要人这么熟，感到有些吃惊。

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“是的！不，夫人。这只是个酒店的名字——就像在英国所说的‘维多利亚’酒店，或者‘威尔士亲王’酒店——这是蒂罗尔南部最舒适的酒店。一年之中的这个时候，你肯定是要到阿尔卑斯山的那边去的，因斯布鲁克已经开始冷了。”

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于是，我们去了梅兰。说实话，我很少见过比这更漂亮、更秀丽的地方。滔滔的水流，高高的山峰，沿坡种植的葡萄园，古老的城墙与塔楼，古雅的带有拱廊的街道，崎岖峭壁上的瀑布，模仿德国温泉疗养胜地风格的人行漫步道；举目远眺，会看到起伏的多洛米蒂山山峰。我之前从未目睹过这么一派景象。一个莱茵小镇沿着阿尔卑斯山峦顺势而下，中间点缀着雄伟的意大利柱廊。

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我赞成西塞琳的选择，当她建议住一切从简的酒店，而不是住配有家具的别墅时，我非常高兴，因为这样我就无须费心；而如果选择后者，大部分各项安排，自然要落到我这可怜的秘书头上。不论哪种情形，我都得每天工作三小时，这种正常工作之外的额外负担，还是能少些就少些的好。我给西塞琳半个金镑作为小费，说实在的，是为了她做的这个明智的决策。西塞琳神秘、好奇、似笑非笑地瞥了一眼手心中的金币，然后立刻丢到了兜里，用法语说了声：“谢谢，先生！”有点瞧不起的意味。我一直以为，西塞琳在小费这件事上，有着很高的期望，根本看不上我这小小的秘书所能给得起的这点钱。

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梅兰最为特别之处在于，它有许多城堡（我觉得，严格来讲，这个地方用复数是不符合语法规则的，不过英国人能立刻会意），你站在郊区向任何一个方向都能看得到。据说，要是站在库切尔伯格山上数一数，能看到不下四十座这种别具一格、摇摇欲坠的老城堡。就我个人而言，我不喜欢统计（金融招股说明书除外），我也确实不知道，在西塞琳的指点下，伊莎贝尔和艾米莉亚到底数出了多少座破败的城堡。不过，我记得，大部分城堡都十分典雅、美观，它们所呈现的各式建筑，的确看似让人眼花缭乱。这座是方形的，每个角都会探出古怪的小炮塔；而那座则坐拥一栋高大的主楼，长长的城墙向两边延展，上面爬满了常春藤，还有赏心悦目的棱堡。查尔斯对这些城堡十分痴迷，他喜欢这种美景，在他那金融灵魂的深处，潜伏着诗人的影子（只不过隐藏得特别深，这一点我可以向你保证）。自从到这儿的那一刻起，他便立刻想在这些浪漫的山峦中拥有一座属于自己的城堡。“塞尔登！”他不屑地大声说道，“人们把塞尔登称作城堡！西，你我都很清楚，它不过是在一八六〇年由丘比特公司——伦敦那家声名显赫的承包商——按市价为塞尔登的麦克弗森建造的，用的全是些假的古石。对于那座假城堡，麦克弗森向我开了一个荒唐的价格，这个价都能买下一座真正的古代宅第了。看一看，这些城堡才是真正的城堡，历尽沧桑，颜色都有些灰白了。蒂罗尔城堡有罗马风格——十世纪或十一世纪的风格。”（这些话他是在旅行指南中读到的。）“这才是我想要的地方！——十世纪或十一世纪的东西。我可以在这里生活，远离那些公债还有股票，彻底地远离它们。在这幽静的峡谷中，西，伙计，想想，不会有什么克雷上校，也不会有什么傲慢的皮卡迪特夫人！”

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实际上，他只能在那儿待上六周，之后就会厌倦，接着就想去帕克港、蒙特卡洛，还有布莱顿转转。

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说来也怪，艾米莉亚也被查尔斯这一时兴起的念头迷住了。这个世界上，除了伦敦，她一向哪儿都不喜欢。不过，要是在伦敦也没什么有头有脸的人物可见，或者当朴实无华的百叶窗遮住了梅费尔还有贝尔格拉维亚区那让人反感的外观，那就另当别论。即便在罗斯郡的塞尔登城堡，她也无聊得要命，在巴黎或维也纳，也成天提不起精神。她是个不折不扣的伦敦佬。可是，我那和蔼可亲的舅嫂鬼使神差地爱上了南蒂罗尔区这个地方。她想在那片郁郁葱葱的草木间平平淡淡地过日子。人们正在采摘葡萄，南瓜挂在墙上，攀缘植物从灰白而古雅的墙头垂下，像是给墙披了件深红色的外衣；这里的一切都如同伯恩·琼斯的梦境般美丽（我知道，自己提到伯恩·琼斯很合时宜，尤其是和罗马风格的建筑联系到一起时，因为我曾听到我们那亦敌亦友的爱德华·伯尔派罗博士对此地大肆称赞过）。因此，这样一来，艾米莉亚竟能喜欢上这个地方，这也许是情理之中的事了。此外，她也很大程度上受西塞琳的影响，西塞琳信誓旦旦地说，全欧洲没有哪个地方冬天的气候能像梅兰这么好。这一点我可不同意。因为下午三点，太阳就落山了，在一二月份，猛烈的暖风会在雪面上吹起一股潮气。

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虽然这样，艾米莉亚还是派西塞琳向酒店的人打听一下这些破败的城堡市价几何，再打听打听附近有多少符合条件的城堡此刻在售。西塞琳带着一个写得满满的、精准可靠、非常特别的单子回来了，又花言巧语了一番，即便让老约翰·罗宾斯听到，也定会满心欢喜。这些城堡个个都景致如画，都是罗马风格，都爬满了常春藤，都宽敞明亮，都有历史底蕴，并且其主人都是出身高贵的伯爵以及声誉卓著的男爵。大部分城堡都曾举办过知名的赛事，其中一些还举办过神圣的罗马皇帝的盛大婚礼；每个都牵扯到一些绝妙一流的凶杀案。闹不闹鬼，可以根据要求安排；要是再适当加点钱，还可以有护城河，另外免费赠送徽章。

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在这些所有让人心驰神往的城堡中，我们最喜欢的两座是普兰塔城堡和莱本斯坦城堡。我们驾车从它们旁边经过，说真的，甚至连我自己也被它们深深吸引。（另外，还有一个原因，当购买这么一大宗物品时，一位穷似乞丐的秘书也总有机会做做工作，给自己赚点回扣。）我觉得，从外面看，普兰塔堡最为震撼，有着莱茵河一般雄伟的塔楼，常春藤枝干粗壮多瘤，看起来似乎比哈布斯堡王朝还要久远；但据说，莱本斯坦堡内部保存较好，各方面都更适合现代居家，它那楼梯前前后后被七千位业余爱好者拍过照。

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我们拿到了参观的门票，是得力助手西塞琳替我们买的。这样，我们在一个风和日丽的下午就驾车出发了，打算去看普兰塔城堡，这是西塞林的建议。不过我们在半路改了主意，因为天气很不错，我们就沿着长长的缓坡上山，去看莱本斯坦城堡。我必须得提一句，沿路驾车从这些宅第中间穿梭而过，真是再惬意不过了。城堡孤独地屹立在一堆石块，或者说峭壁上（就像意大利画作中的天使长圣米迦勒那般泰然自若），从各个方向都能俯瞰到自家茂盛的葡萄园。峡谷两旁是些栗树，埃施这片谷地如画一般在脚下延展开来。

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顺便说一句，光是这些葡萄园就是一份相当不错的产业；这些葡萄园产出一种香醇的红酒，出口到波尔多，在那儿以蒙尼维酒庄的名义装瓶，作为年份红酒售卖。查尔斯对于自己种葡萄酿酒这一想法陶醉不已。

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“在这儿，”他向艾米莉亚高声说道，“咱们是确确实实坐在自家的葡萄树和无花果树下！多么美好的闲居之处！我是受够了针线街的喧嚣了。”

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我们敲了敲门——因为没有门铃，只有一个笨重、老式的锻铁门环。这种中世纪的风格真让人心醉！我们了解到，莱本斯坦伯爵最近过世，他儿子，也就是现在的伯爵，这位年轻的富豪，从他母亲家里继承了一座位于萨尔茨堡更为古老、更为宏伟的城堡，于是打算出售这份较为偏远的产业，来给自己买艘游艇，这股潮流当前在德国还有奥地利的贵族绅士们中方兴未艾。

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一位高贵的仆人给我们开了门，穿着古朴、体面的制服。精致典雅的大厅，先人的盔甲套装，蒂罗尔狩猎者的战利品，古代伯爵的盾徽——这些东西刚好满足了艾米莉亚对贵族、罗马遗风的神往。整座城堡按照目前的样子原封不动进行出售，包括先人们留下的这些东西。

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我们穿过接待室，房间高高耸立，引人入胜，看起来光彩夺目，再加上那些雅致的罗马风格的窗户、纤细的顶柱、古雅的圆顶拱门，就更显得如此。查尔斯爵士下定了决心。“我必须并且一定会得到它！”他大声说道，“这才是我想要的地方。塞尔登，哼，塞尔登不过是个惹人厌的现代品。”

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我们能不能见一见高贵的伯爵？那身着制服的仆人（略显高傲地）说，他会去问一下他尊贵的主人。查尔斯递上自己还有凡德里夫特夫人的名片，这些外国人明白，在英国，头衔就意味着金钱。

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他猜对了。两分钟后，伯爵手持名片进来了。他是位相貌堂堂的年轻人，嘴巴上方留着蒂罗尔这一带典型的黑长胡须，一身依照本国服饰改装的绅士行头。他一副打猎的派头，一根常见的黑雄松鸡的羽毛插在圆锥形帽子（他拿在手上）的一侧，欢快地抖动着。这追随的是奥地利普遍的流行时尚。

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他招手示意我们坐下，我们就坐了下来。他用法语同我们交谈，脸上挂着和善的笑容，说自己不怎么说英语。他继续道，说我们可以说英语，他听起来没有任何问题，但如果我们同意，他想用法语或德语回答我们。

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“法语吧。”查尔斯答道，商谈就继续用法语进行。除了英语，还有他祖先的荷兰语之外，这是我那内兄唯一能用来和一位点头之交交谈的语言了。

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我们称赞这儿的美景。伯爵面露喜色，流露出一股民族自豪感。的确，这儿挺漂亮，这青翠漂亮的蒂罗尔是属于他自己的。他为之感到自豪，也十分喜爱这个地方。他之所以能狠下心把这块父辈们的家园卖掉，是因为他在萨尔茨卡默古特有一个更好的地方，在因斯布鲁克附近有个临时住所。蒂罗尔这里只是少了一点乐趣——大海，而他又对游艇痴迷，于是决定出售此处地产。再者，毕竟三处乡下房产、一艘游艇、维也纳一处庄园，这么多地方，他一个人也住不过来。

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“一点不错！”查尔斯答道，“要是你我能就此处漂亮的地产达成协议，我就把自己在苏格兰高地的宅邸卖掉。”他努力使自己看起来像位自豪的苏格兰酋长正对着族人慷慨陈词。

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接着他们转入正题。和那位伯爵做买卖十分愉快，他的言谈举止无可挑剔。我们正谈着，一个板着脸的家伙，约莫是招待员之类的，突然走进房间，用德语跟他说什么事情，我们谁也听不懂。他对这位愠怒的仆人举止中流露出的罕见的风度和慈爱，让我们大为触动。很明显，他在向这家伙解释我们是谁，并十分温和地斥责他不应该打搅我们。那位管家会意后，显然为自己的无礼态度感到抱歉，因为他说了几句话之后就出去了，边说边鞠躬，还用德语客气地解释了一番。伯爵转向我们，微笑着说：“我们国家的人同你们苏格兰的农民很像——热心肠，有个性，不拘束，爱音乐，有诗才。不过，嗯，对待陌生人，需要再多些礼貌。”要是他的这种说法成立，那他自己绝对是个例外，因为自打进门的那一刻起，我们就感到宾至如归。

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他坦诚地报出了自己的价格。他在梅兰的律师手里有些必要的文件，他们会同我们安排具体的商谈。不得不说，这个要价太高了——高得离谱，不过话又说回来，他为一座顶呱呱的城堡开出了个顶呱呱的价格。“他早晚会把价格降下来的，”查尔斯说道，“在所有的交易中，第一次出的价都只是想试探你一下。他们知道我是百万富翁，别人总觉得百万富翁浑身上下全都是钱。”

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我得补充一句，别人总觉得从百万富翁身上榨出点钱，肯定要比从别人身上弄出点钱容易——而事实恰恰相反，要不然他们怎么会攒出自己那份百万家产呢？他们不是像树上渗出树胶那样往外冒金子，而是像吸墨纸那样把金子吸得一干二净，却几乎再也不吐出来。

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在这第一次会面之后，我们驾车回府，非常满意。价格太高了，不过双方已经做了初步的安排，至于其余的细节问题，伯爵希望我们去和他在林登大道的律师们商谈。我们也打听了这些律师，了解到他们极为德高望重，他们这份家族事业已经延续了七代人，买卖双方的生意都做。

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他们给我们看了看房屋平面图，还有地契，一切都按部就班。在谈到价格之前，一切都进行得十分顺利。

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不过，这些律师在价格问题上很执拗。他们坚持伯爵第一次的要价，一个子儿也不降。那估价相当高，我们的商谈进展很慢，有些僵持，最后查尔斯终于受不了了，发了脾气。

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“西，他们知道我是百万富翁，”他说道，“想故技重施来诈我一把。我才不吃这一套。这世上除了克雷上校，还没有谁能宰过我一把。我会像这与世无争的大山深处那岩羚羊一样任人宰割吗？休想！”接着，他静静地想了一会儿，最后，若有所思地讲道，“西，问题是，他们果真没什么恶意吗？知不知道，我现在开始觉得，这世上再也没有最初的那份纯真了。这位蒂罗尔的伯爵十分清楚每一块钱的价值，好像他在卡佩尔厅和金伯利混过似的。”

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事情就这样拖拖拉拉了一两周，没有任何结果。我们压低价格，律师们则坚持原价。查尔斯开始对这笔荒唐的买卖有点厌烦。要我说，我敢保证，要是那位尊贵的伯爵再不加快点进度，我那位可敬的内兄很快就会对整个蒂罗尔心生厌烦，到时候哪怕峰顶的城堡再迷人，也勾不起他的半点兴趣。可惜，伯爵没有意识到这一点。他到酒店来拜访我们——对于陌生人而言，蒂罗尔这些上流的高傲贵族的造访，是极其难得的荣耀——甚至拿出最友好的姿态，未提前打招呼就进来了。不过当谈到价钱时，他又固执得不行。哪怕降一个子儿，他都不愿意。

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“你不知道，”他傲慢地说，“我们蒂罗尔的绅士不是什么商人，也不是什么店铺老板。我们说一不二，不讨价还价。假如你是奥地利人，还想试图砍价的话，这就太欠考虑了，我会觉得你是在侮辱我。不过，你来自一个伟大的商业国度——”他鼻子哼了一声，突然打住，同情地耸了耸肩。

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好几次我们见他驾车从城堡里进进出出，每次他都优雅地向我们挥挥手。但我们每次砍价，结果都一样：他总会拿自己的蒂罗尔贵族身份做挡箭牌。要么买下，要么走人。这可是莱本斯坦城堡。

34
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律师们也好不到哪儿去。我们用尽浑身解数，却还在原地踏步。

35
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查尔斯对此事感到厌烦，最终放弃了。如我所料，他也烦得慌。“这是我这辈子见到的最美的地方，”他说，“不过，西，去他妈的，谁也别想宰我一把。”

36
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现在已经到了十二月，他于是决定回伦敦。我们第二天又碰到了伯爵，便拦住了他的马车，向他说了我们的打算。查尔斯本以为这会立刻让那家伙清醒过来，但他只是扬了扬插着黑雄松鸡羽毛的帽子，漠然一笑，答道：“卡尔大公目前也正打听本宅。”说罢便扬长而去。

37
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查尔斯说了几句难听的话，我在此也就不转述了（家丑不可外扬），我们于是就这样回了英国。

38
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在接下来的两个月里，艾米莉亚除了对伯爵不愿把莱本斯坦城堡卖给我们这事表示遗憾，我们几乎没听过她说过其他的事情。那座城堡的尖顶将她的心刺得好痛。说来也怪，她一如既往地迷恋着那城堡。她在蒂罗尔时想得到它，并且觉得一定会得到；现在感觉得不到了，但她的灵魂（要是她有的话）却还疯狂地扑在上面。另外，西塞琳稍稍向她暗示说——也是她在酒店信使的饭桌上偶然听到的——那伯爵根本不急着把这份祖传的历史遗产卖给南非的钻石大王。他觉得，考虑到家族的荣耀，他至少也得找一位出身于古老望族的有钱买主。这番话进一步点燃了她的欲望。

39
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不过，二月的一天早上，艾米莉亚从弓街回来，满脸的兴奋与笑容（查尔斯见她衣带渐紧，就让她骑骑马，瘦瘦腰身）。

40
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“你猜，我看到谁在公园里骑马？”她说道，“哈，莱本斯坦伯爵。”

41
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“不可能。”查尔斯说，有点怀疑。

42
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“千真万确。”艾米莉亚答道。

43
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“你肯定看错了。”查尔斯大声说道。

44
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但艾米莉亚坚持说自己没看走眼，并且还派了人到伦敦的律师那里——就是林登大道上那家祖传的公司曾提到的他们在英国的代理律师——不断地打听伯爵的行踪。据了解，伯爵现在就在伦敦，住在莫利酒店。

45
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“我明白了，”查尔斯大声说，“他意识到自己犯了个错误，现在到这儿来，打算重新谈判一下。”

46
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我极力主张要耐心等待，要让伯爵主动找上门，便说：“不要让他看出你的迫切心理。”但艾米莉亚现在的那股迫切劲儿，捂也捂不住。她坚持说，查尔斯应当去拜访一下伯爵，不为别的，就为了回馈伯爵在蒂罗尔的殷勤接待。

47
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伯爵还是那么风度翩翩，愉快地向我们讲述着在伦敦碰到的古怪事儿。他非常乐意第二天同查尔斯共进晚餐，还向凡德里夫特夫人以及“芬特霍斯”夫人致以诚挚的问候。

48
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他同我们吃了饭，就像一家人一样。艾米莉亚的厨子还真有两下子。大约半夜了，查尔斯在台球室又旧事重提。看到在这个有着五百万人口的大都市的花花世界中，我们竟然还满心惦记着他那心爱的莱本斯坦城堡，伯爵大为感动。

49
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“明天到我律师那里来，”他说，“咱们到时候谈谈这件事。”

50
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我们去了——那是一家相当体面的事务所，位于南安普顿街，里面都是些来自古老家族的律师。他们为过世的伯爵经办业务也有年头了，那位伯爵曾从祖母那里继承了一些位于爱尔兰的地产。能获得伯爵后人的信任，他们也倍感荣幸。当然，他们也乐于结识查尔斯·凡德里夫特这样的金融界大亨，于是便急迫地（搓着双手）要把事情的方方面面安排得让大家都满意。（读者们也明白，这样就可以同两个有头有脸的家族攀上些关系了。）

51
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查尔斯出了个价，告知了他的律师。

52
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伯爵把价格抬了抬，不过比以前降了些，剩下的就交给双方的律师去打理了。他说，自己当过兵，是位绅士，他一边说一边跟其他蒂罗尔人一样，把自己那高贵的头扬了扬，他打算把那些细枝末节留给代理人来处理。

53
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由于我真心急于给艾米莉亚帮个忙，于是第二天在莫利酒店的台阶上，碰巧遇到了伯爵（碰巧，是对伯爵而言，我为了碰到他，在特拉法尔加广场晃悠了半个小时）。我小心谨慎地向他解释道，我能在很大程度上影响查尔斯，要是我说句话——我突然打住。他茫然地盯着我。

54
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“佣金？”最终他试探道，略微一笑，有些古怪。

55
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“这个嘛，不能说是佣金，”我回答，有些回避，“不过帮你说句好话，你也明白。礼尚往来嘛！”

56
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他十分不解，从头到脚仔细地打量我一番。当时，我担心这位蒂罗尔贵族会抬脚走人。但紧接着，我意识到查尔斯说得对，人们最初的纯真已经从这地球上消失了，去了别的地方。

57
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他报了自己的最低价。“芬特霍斯先生，”他说道，“我是蒂罗尔的庄园主，我自己本人是不会过问佣金、回扣这类事情的。不过，要是你能在查尔斯身边吹吹风——你我都懂的，对不对？咱们作为绅士之交——我会送你一份小小的礼物——肯定不是金钱——不管你诱使他出什么价，我会把高出他今天出价那部分的百分之五，以珠宝的形式给你。——咱们就这么定了？”

58
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“通常都是百分之十。”我低声道。

59
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他此时又变得如同奥地利骑兵一般。“要么百分之五，先生——要么一分都没有！”

60
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我鞠了一躬，退后一步。“好，百分之五就百分之五，”我答道，“就权当为阁下您效劳了。”

61
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毕竟秘书能做许多事情。说到价钱的问题，有艾米莉亚的帮助，再加上伊莎贝尔和西塞琳的支援，我毫不费力地就说服查尔斯，让他接受了伯爵要的那个更为合理的价格。南安普顿街的这些人，对于波尔多市场上红酒的价值知晓一些实情，这让此事最终板上钉钉。一两周以后，一切都商量妥当。我和查尔斯如约在南安普顿街同伯爵会面，看着他在莱本斯坦城堡的地契上签名，加盖印章，然后交付给我们。我内兄则把购房款交到了伯爵的手中，给的是画线支票，收款的是伦敦一家极好的公司，支票的抬头就是这位高贵的伯爵。之后，查尔斯想着自己成了莱本斯坦城堡的主人，便得意地离开了。对我而言，更为重要的是，第二天一早我收到了一张寄过来的百分之五的佣金的支票，不过令人遗憾的是，由于有些误解，付款的是同一家银行，抬头写的就是我本人，签的是伯爵的名字。里面还附有一张短笺，说现在事情已经圆满完成，他觉得他向我许诺的金额还是直接付现钱为好。

62
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我立刻将支票兑现了，对此事只字未提，甚至对伊莎贝尔也没说。我的经验是，佣金回扣这些复杂的事情，不适宜掏心窝子讲给妇人听。

63
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尽管现在是三月底，议院还在开会，查尔斯却坚持说我们所有人都必须马上动身去接管我们那宏伟的蒂罗尔城堡。艾米莉亚也早已急不可耐，摆出一副伯爵夫人的架子。我们乘东方快车一直抵达慕尼黑，接着经由布伦纳抵达梅兰，当晚在约翰大公爵酒店住下。尽管我们早已发电报说会过来，料想会引起些许轰动，不过我们一点轰动的迹象都没看到。第二天一早，我们就驾车隆重前往城堡，投进自家葡萄树还有无花果树的怀抱。

64
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在门口，我们碰到了那个板着脸的仆人。“我要让他滚蛋，”查尔斯低声道，他已是莱本斯坦的主人了，“我觉得他看着太苦大仇深了，从没见过如此无礼的人！也不笑一笑欢迎我！”

65
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他走上台阶，那位板着脸的男子则走上前，用德语低声咕哝了几句。查尔斯把他拨到一边，继续向前走。接下来的事情让人有些摸不着头脑，双方都有些误会。那位板着脸的男子拼命地叫唤仆人把我们轰出去。过了许久，我们才逐渐知道真相：那位板着脸的男子才是真正的莱本斯坦伯爵。

66
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那位留着小胡子的伯爵又是谁呢？我们现在才渐渐回过神来。又是克雷上校！他胆子可比之前大多了！

67
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事情的真相逐渐浮出水面。我们第一天参观城堡时，他就紧跟在我们后面，对仆人说，是和我们一伙的，并在接待室同我们会合。我们问真正的伯爵，他为什么要同那位不请自入的人说话，他用法语解释道，那名留有小胡子的男子说，我内兄是一位了不起的南非百万富翁，而自己则是我们的向导兼翻译。这样一来，那男子便同真正的伯爵，还有伯爵在梅兰的律师频频接触，几乎每天都驱车前往城堡。城堡的主人一开始出了价，并一直坚持这个价。他现在还是坚持这个价，要是查尔斯爵士打算把莱本斯坦再买一次的话，他也乐于拱手让出。至于他在伦敦的律师是怎么被骗的，伯爵本人也毫不知情。他对此事感到惋惜，并（冷冷地）向我们道了声早安。

68
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事已至此，我们也只好回到约翰大公爵酒店，个个垂头丧气，提不起精神，我们给伦敦警方发了封电报，详细说明了事件的经过。

69
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我同查尔斯赶紧奔往英国去探寻那无赖的下落。在南安普顿街，我们找到了那家律师事务所，他们不但毫不愧疚，反而很生气，因为我们居然以这种方式来骗他们。骗子用莱本斯坦的信笺从梅兰给他们写信，说他即将到伦敦，同知名的百万富翁查尔斯·凡德里夫特爵士商量城堡及周围财产的出售事宜。查尔斯爵士当面一口承认他就是真正的莱本斯坦伯爵。事务所的人从未见过当时的那位伯爵，但凭着查尔斯爵士的明确指认，也就全盘相信了骗子的话。他带来了一些极其精心伪造的文件——原件的复制品——他冒充我们的向导兼翻译，完全有机会在梅兰的律师那里检验查证这些原件。这是一场精心策划的骗局，令人惊讶的是，它居然成功了。不过，这一切都怪我们轻信了城堡大厅中蓄有长胡子的男子的一面之词，认为他就是莱本斯坦伯爵。

70
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他进来时，手里拿着我们的名片，不过当时仆人并没有把名片给他，给的是真正的伯爵。这也是整个事件中一个未解的谜团。

71
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晚上有两封信送到了查尔斯的住所，一封是我的，一封是查尔斯的。查尔斯的信内容如下：

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尊敬的无能阁下：

73
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我仅仅是勉强得手！一点小失算差点让我功亏一篑。我相信，你那天准备要去普兰塔城堡，而不是去莱本斯坦城堡，只是在半路上你改变了主意，这可差点把我的整个计划都搞砸了。

74
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幸好，我及时发现了这一点，便走了条捷径，急急忙忙赶在你之前抵达，接着我说了自己的身份。不过比这更糟的是，突然有人闯了进来，就是被我冒用了名字和头衔的那位伯爵。不过，天助勇者，你一点德语都不懂，这救了我一把。剩下的也都没什么值得一提的了，几乎是水到渠成。

75
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你奉上的这些支票，我却之不恭，也请允许我送你一件大有裨益、价值连城的礼物，聊表寸心——一本德语词汇、语法和短语书！

76
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吻你的手。

77
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曾经的，

78
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凡·莱本斯坦

79
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另一封短笺是给我的，内容如下：

80
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亲爱的、好心的昏特霍斯：

81
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哈哈哈！我只是把你的名字“温特沃斯”念成“芬特沃斯”，就把你骗了！虽然有点头脑的人都知道外国人发“TH”这个音比发“W”更难，可我还是在说你名字中的“斯”这个字时冒了点险。不过，俗话说，结果好，一切都好。现在我可是抓住了你，上天把你送到了我的手中，亲爱的朋友——还是你自己主动找上门来的。我手上有张支票，有你的背书，在我的开户行兑的现，可以说算是我手中一个“把柄”吧，为的是让你以后老实一点。要是你以后认出了我，把我出卖给你老板，就是那个一本正经的老浑蛋，记住，我就会向他揭发此事，连带着你一起揭发。所以，咱们现在是在同一条船上。我本来没有想到这条妙计，是你启发了我，我不过是顺势而为罢了。我付了你那么一点佣金，却能保证你今后不再乱说话，这钱不是花得也值了吗？现在就把你的嘴堵住了，就价钱看，也算便宜。

82
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你亲爱的同道中人、铁杆无赖兄弟，

83
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库斯伯特·克雷上校

84
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查尔斯放下信，发了一通牢骚。“西，谁给你写的信？”他问道。

85
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“一位女士写的。”我答道。

86
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他怀疑地盯着我。“哦，我还以为是同一个人的手笔。”他说着，目光已将我刺穿。

87
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“不是的，”我答道，“莫蒂默夫人写的。”不过，说真的，我有些发抖。

88
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他顿了一下，深叹一口气，继续问道：“你在这家伙的银行那儿详细地询问过了？”

89
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“嗯，问过了，”我立刻接过话（在这方面我极其小心，你也知道，怕他发现佣金的事情），“他们说，那个冒牌的凡·莱本斯坦伯爵，是由南安普顿街的一些人引荐给他们的，同以前一样，钱是从莱本斯坦的账户上取走的，所以他们一点疑心都没起。你也知道，像这种级别的闯荡世界的无赖，还带着你们双方的证件，自然能骗过所有人。银行连他的身份都没有正式地核实，有那家事务所就够了。他是过来存钱，不是往外取。就在两天后才把余额取走，说是要急着回维也纳。”

90
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他会不会要账户的明细呢？说实话，这一刻十分尴尬。不过，此时他满心懊丧，哪儿还有心思顾及账户的事情。他向后躺在安乐椅上，双手插在衣兜里，两腿直直地搭在前面的挡板上，一副沮丧至极的表情。

91
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过了一两分钟，他捅了捅炉火，若有所思地说道：“西，那人的本事也够大的！我发誓，我都钦佩他了。有时，我想——”他突然打住，犹豫了一下。

92
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“想什么？”我问道。

93
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“有时，真想……让他加入克罗地多普·戈尔康达董事会。他会在伦敦打造出些了不起的集团来！”

94
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我站了起来，严肃地盯着我那胡思乱想的内兄。

95
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“查尔斯，”我说，“你疯了？你经历了太多的克雷上校的事件，这已经影响了你明晰、卓越的心智。有些话，不管多么真实，也不是一位自重的金融家应该讲出口的，哪怕是在自己的房间，没有外人，讲给最亲密的朋友、最信任的顾问也不行。”

96
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查尔斯已经完全垮了，禁不住哭出声来。“你说得对，西，太对了。原谅我这一时的冲动。动情时，有时也顾不得其他，就把真话吐出来了。”

97
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我不愿乘人之危，甚至都没利用这个得天独厚的机会，让他给我涨涨薪水。

98
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We went to Meran. The place was practically decided for us by Amelia’s French maid, who really acts on such occasions as our guide and courier.

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She is such a clever girl, is Amelia’s French maid. Whenever we are going anywhere, Amelia generally asks（and accepts）her advice as to choice of hotels and furnished villas.Césarine has been all over the Continent in her time；and, being Alsatian by birth, she of course speaks German as well as she speaks French, while her long residence with Amelia has made her at last almost equally at home in our native English.She is a treasure, that girl；so neat and dexterous, and not above dabbling in anything on earth she may be asked to turn her hand to.She walks the world with a needle-case in one hand and an etna in the other.She can cook an omelette on occasion, or drive a Norwegian cariole；she can sew, and knit, and make dresses, and cure a cold, and do anything else on earth you ask her.Her salads are the most savoury I ever tasted；while as for her coffee（which she prepares for us in the train on long journeys），there isn’t a chef de cuisine at a West-end club to be named in the same day with her.

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So, when Amelia said, in her imperious way，“Césarine, we want to go to the Tyrol—now—at once—in mid-October；where do you advise us to put up?”—Césarine answered, like a shot，“The Erzherzog Johann, ofcourse, at Meran, for the autumn, madame.”

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“Is he……an archduke?”Amelia asked, a little staggered at such apparent familiarity with Imperial personages.

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“Ma foi！no, madame. He is an hotel—as you would say in England, the‘Victoria’or the‘Prince of Wales’s’—the most comfortable hotel in all South Tyrol；and at this time of year, naturally, you must go beyond the Alps；it begins already to be cold at Innsbruck.”

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So to Meran we went；and a prettier or more picturesque place, I confess, I have seldom set eyes on. A rushing torrent；high hills and mountain peaks；terraced vineyard slopes；old walls and towers；quaint, arcaded streets；a craggy waterfall；a promenade after the fashion of a German Spa；and when you lift your eyes from the ground, jagged summits of Dolomites：it was a combination such as I had never before beheld；a Rhine town plumped down among green Alpine heights, and threaded by the cool colonnades of Italy.

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I approved Césarine’s choice；and I was particularly glad she had pronounced for an hotel, where all is plain sailing, instead of advising a furnished villa, the arrangements for which would naturally have fallen in large part upon the shoulders of the wretched secretary.As in any case I have to do three hours’work a day, I feel that such additions to my normal burden may well be spared me.I tipped Césarine half a sovereign, in fact, for her judicious choice.Césarine glanced at it on her palm in her mysterious, curious, half-smiling way, and pocketed it at once with a“Merci, monsieur！”that had a touch of contempt in it.I always fancy Césarine has large ideas of her own on the subject of tipping, and thinks very small beer of the modest sums a mere secretary can alone afford to bestow upon her.

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The great peculiarity of Meran is the number of schlosses（I believemy plural is strictly irregular, but very convenient to English ears）which you can see in every direction from its outskirts. A statistical eye, it is supposed, can count no fewer than forty of these picturesque, ramshackled old castles from a point on the Küchelberg.For myself, I hate statistics（except as an element in fnancial prospectuses），and I really don’t know how many ruinous piles Isabel and Amelia counted under Césarine’s guidance；but I remember that most of them were quaint and beautiful, and that their variety of architecture seemed positively bewildering.One would be square, with funny little turrets stuck out at each angle；while another would rejoice in a big round keep, and spread on either side long, ivy-clad walls and delightful bastions.Charles was immensely taken with them.He loves the picturesque, and has a poet hidden in that fnancial soul of his.（Very effectually hidden, though, I am ready to grant you.）From the moment he came he felt at once he would love to possess a castle of his own among these romantic mountains.“Seldon！”he exclaimed contemptuously.“They call Seldon a castle！But you and I know very well, Sey, it was built in 1860，with sham antique stones, for Macpherson of Seldon, at market rates, by Cubitt and Co.，worshipful contractors of London.Macpherson charged me for that sham antiquity a preposterous price, at which one ought to procure a real ancestral mansion.Now, these castles are real.They are hoary with antiquity.Schloss Tyrol is Romanesque—tenth or eleventh century.”（He had been reading it up in Baedeker.）“That’s the sort of place for me！—tenth or eleventh century.I could live here, remote from stocks and shares, for ever；and in these sequestered glens, recollect, Sey, my boy, there are no Colonel Clays, and no arch Madame Picardets！”

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As a matter of fact, he could have lived there six weeks, and then tired for Park Lane, Monte Carlo, Brighton.

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As for Amelia, strange to say, she was equally taken with this new fad of Charles’s. As a rule she hates everywhere on earth save London, except during the time when no respectable person can be seen in town, and when modest blinds shade the scandalised face of Mayfair and Belgravia.She bores herself to death even at Seldon Castle, Ross-shire, and yawns all day long in Paris or Vienna.She is a confrmed Cockney.Yet, for some occult reason, my amiable sister-in-law fell in love with South Tyrol.She wanted to vegetate in that lush vegetation.The grapes were being picked；pumpkins hung over the walls；Virginia creeper draped the quaint gray schlosses with crimson cloaks；and everything was as beautiful as a dream of Burne-Jones’s.（I know I am quite right in mentioning Burne-Jones, especially in connection with Romanesque architecture, because I heard him highly praised on that very ground by our friend and enemy, Dr.Edward Polperro.）So perhaps it was excusable that Amelia should fall in love with it all, under the circumstances；besides, she is largely infuenced by what Césarine says, and Césarine declares there is no climate in Europe like Meran in winter.I do not agree with her.The sun sets behind the hills at three in the afternoon, and a nasty warm wind blows moist over the snow in January and February.

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However, Amelia set Césarine to inquire of the people at the hotel about the market price of tumbledown ruins, and the number of such eligible family mausoleums just then for sale in the immediate neighbourhood.Césarine returned with a full, true, and particular list, adorned with fowers of rhetoric which would have delighted the soul of good old John Robins.They were all picturesque, all Romanesque, all richly ivy-clad, all commodious, all historical, and all the property of high well-born Grafs and very honourable Freiherrs.Most of them had been the scene of celebrated tournaments；several of them had witnessed thegorgeous marriages of Holy Roman Emperors；and every one of them was provided with some choice and selected frst-class murders.Ghosts could be arranged for or not, as desired；and armorial bearings could be thrown in with the moat for a moderate extra remuneration.

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The two we liked best of all these tempting piles were Schloss Planta and Schloss Lebenstein. We drove past both, and even I myself, I confess, was distinctly taken with them.（Besides, when a big purchase like this is on the stocks, a poor beggar of a secretary has always a chance of exerting his infuence and earning for himself some modest commission.）Schloss Planta was the most striking externally, I should say, with its Rhine-like towers, and its great gnarled ivy-stems, that looked as if they antedated the House of Hapsburg；but Lebenstein was said to be better preserved within, and more ftted in every way for modern occupation.Its staircase has been photographed by 7000 amateurs.

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We got tickets to view. The invaluable Césarine procured them for us.Armed with these, we drove off one fine afternoon, meaning to go to Planta, by Césarine’s recommendation.Half-way there, however, we changed our minds, as it was such a lovely day, and went on up the long, slow hill to Lebenstein.I must say the drive through the grounds was simply charming.The castle stands perched（say rather poised, like St.Michael the archangel in Italian pictures）on a solitary stack or crag of rock, looking down on every side upon its own rich vineyards.Chestnuts line the glens；the valley of the Etsch spreads below like a picture.

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The vineyards alone make a splendid estate, by the way；they produce a delicious red wine, which is exported to Bordeaux, and there bottled and sold as a vintage claret under the name of Chateau Monnivet. Charles revelled in the idea of growing his own wines.

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“Here we could sit，”he cried to Amelia，“in the most literal sense, under our own vine and fg-tree. Delicious retirement！For my part, I’m sick and tired of the hubbub of Threadneedle Street.”

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We knocked at the door—for there was really no bell, but a ponderous, old-fashioned, wrought-iron knocker. So deliciously medi?val！The late Graf von Lebenstein had recently died, we knew；and his son, the present Count, a young man of means, having inherited from his mother’s family a still more ancient and splendid schloss in the Salzburg district, desired to sell this outlying estate in order to afford himself a yacht, after the manner that is now becoming increasingly fashionable with the noblemen and gentlemen in Germany and Austria.

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The door was opened for us by a high well-born menial, attired in a very ancient and honourable livery. Nice antique hall；suits of ancestral armour, trophies of Tyrolese hunters, coats of arms of ancient counts—the very thing to take Amelia’s aristocratic and romantic fancy.The whole to be sold exactly as it stood；ancestors to be included at a valuation.

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We went through the reception-rooms. They were lofty, charming, and with glorious views, all the more glorious for being framed by those graceful Romanesque windows, with their slender pillars and quaint, round-topped arches.Sir Charles had made his mind up.“I must and will have it！”he cried.“This is the place for me.Seldon！Pah, Seldon is a modern abomination.”

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Could we see the high well-born Count?The liveried servant（somewhat haughtily）would inquire of his Serenity. Sir Charles sent up his card, and also Lady Vandrift’s.These foreigners know title spells money in England.

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He was right in his surmise. Two minutes later the Count entered with our cards in his hands.A good-looking young man, with the characteristic Tyrolese long black moustache, dressed in a gentlemanlyvariant on the costume of the country.His air was a jager’s；the usual blackcock’s plume stuck jauntily in the side of the conical hat（which he held in his hand），after the universal Austrian fashion.

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He waved us to seats. We sat down.He spoke to us in French；his English, he remarked, with a pleasant smile, being a négligeable quantity.We might speak it, he went on；he could understand pretty well；but he preferred to answer, if we would allow him, in French or German.

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“French，”Charles replied, and the negotiation continued thenceforth in that language. It is the only one, save English and his ancestral Dutch, with which my brother-in-law possesses even a nodding acquaintance.

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We praised the beautiful scene. The Count’s face lighted up with patriotic pride.Yes；it was beautiful, beautiful, his own green Tyrol.He was proud of it and attached to it.But he could endure to sell this place, the home of his fathers, because he had a fner in the Salzkammergut, and a pied-à-terre near Innsbruck.For Tyrol lacked just one joy—the sea.He was a passionate yachtsman.For that he had resolved to sell this estate；after all, three country houses, a ship, and a mansion in Vienna, are more than one man can comfortably inhabit.

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“Exactly，”Charles answered.“If I can come to terms with you about this charming estate I shall sell my own castle in the Scotch Highlands.”And he tried to look like a proud Scotch chief who harangues his clansmen.

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Then they got to business. The Count was a delightful man to do business with.His manners were perfect.While we were talking to him, a surly person, a steward or bailiff, or something of the sort, came into the room unexpectedly and addressed him in German, which none of us understand.We were impressed by the singular urbanity and benignity of the nobleman’s demeanour towards this sullen dependant.He evidentlyexplained to the fellow what sort of people we were, and remonstrated with him in a very gentle way for interrupting us.The steward understood, and clearly regretted his insolent air；for after a few sentences he went out, and as he did so he bowed and made protestations of polite regard in his own language.The Count turned to us and smiled.“Our people，”he said，“are like your own Scotch peasants—kind-hearted, picturesque, free, musical, poetic, but wanting, hélas, in polish to strangers.”He was certainly an exception, if he described them aright；for he made us feel at home from the moment we entered.

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He named his price in frank terms. His lawyers at Meran held the needful documents, and would arrange the negotiations in detail with us.It was a stiff sum, I must say—an extremely stiff sum；but no doubt he was charging us a fancy price for a fancy castle.“He will come down in time，”Charles said.“The sum first named in all these transactions is invariably a feeler.They know I’m a millionaire；and people always imagine millionaires are positively made of money.”

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I may add that people always imagine it must be easier to squeeze money out of millionaires than out of other people—which is the reverse of the truth, or how could they ever have amassed their millions?Instead of oozing gold as a tree oozes gum, they mop it up like blotting-paper, and seldom give it out again.

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We drove back from this first interview none the less very well satisfied. The price was too high；but preliminaries were arranged, and for the rest, the Count desired us to discuss all details with his lawyers in the chief street, Unter den Lauben.We inquired about these lawyers, and found they were most respectable and respected men；they had done the family business on either side for seven generations.

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They showed us plans and title-deeds. Everything quite en régle.Tillwe came to the price there was no hitch of any sort.

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As to price, however, the lawyers were obdurate. They stuck out for the Count’s frst sum to the uttermost forin.It was a very big estimate.We talked and shilly-shallied till Sir Charles grew angry.He lost his temper at last.

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“They know I’m a millionaire, Sey，”he said，“and they’re playing the old game of trying to diddle me. But I won’t be diddled.Except Colonel Clay, no man has ever yet succeeded in bleeding me.And shall I let myself be bled as if I were a chamois among these innocent mountains?Perish the thought！”Then he refected a little in silence.“Sey，”he mused on, at last，“the question is, are they innocent?Do you know, I begin to believe there is no such thing left as pristine innocence anywhere.This Tyrolese Count knows the value of a pound as distinctly as if he hung out in Capel Court or Kimberley.”

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Things dragged on in this way, inconclusively, for a week or two. We bid down；the lawyers stuck to it.Sir Charles grew half sick of the whole silly business.For my own part, I felt sure if the high well-born Count didn’t quicken his pace, my respected relative would shortly have had enough of the Tyrol altogether, and be proof against the most lovely of crag-crowning castles.But the Count didn’t see it.He came to call on us at our hotel—a rare honour for a stranger with these haughty and exclusive Tyrolese nobles—and even entered unannounced in the most friendly manner.But when it came to L.s.d.，he was absolute adamant.Not one kreutzer would he abate from his original proposal.

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“You misunderstand，”he said, with pride.“We Tyrolese gentlemen are not shopkeepers or merchants. We do not higgle.If we say a thing we stick to it.Were you an Austrian, I should feel insulted by your ill-advised attempt to beat down my price.But as you belong to a great commercialnation—”he broke off with a snort and shrugged his shoulders compassionately.

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We saw him several times driving in and out of the schloss, and every time he waved his hand at us gracefully. But when we tried to bargain, it was always the same thing：he retired behind the shelter of his Tyrolese nobility.We might take it or leave it.‘Twas still Schloss Lebenstein.

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The lawyers were as bad. We tried all we knew, and got no forrarder.

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At last Charles gave up the attempt in disgust. He was tiring, as I expected.“It’s the prettiest place I ever saw in my life，”he said；“but, hang it all, Sey, I won’t be imposed upon.”

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So he made up his mind, it being now December, to return to London. We met the Count next day, and stopped his carriage, and told him so.Charles thought this would have the immediate effect of bringing the man to reason.But he only lifted his hat, with the blackcock’s feather, and smiled a bland smile.“The Archduke Karl is inquiring about it，”he answered, and drove on without parley.

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Charles used some strong words, which I will not transcribe（I am a family man），and returned to England.

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For the next two months we heard little from Amelia save her regret that the Count wouldn’t sell us Schloss Lebenstein. Its pinnacles had fairly pierced her heart.Strange to say, she was absolutely infatuated about the castle.She rather wanted the place while she was there, and thought she could get it；now she thought she couldn’t, her soul（if she has one）was wildly set upon it.Moreover, Césarine further inflamed her desire by gently hinting a fact which she had picked up at the courier’s table d’h?te at the hotel—that the Count had been far from anxious to sell his ancestral and historical estate to a South African diamond king.He thought the honour of the family demanded, at least, that he should secure a wealthybuyer of good ancient lineage.

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One morning in February, however, Amelia returned from the Row all smiles and tremors.（She had been ordered horse-exercise to correct the increasing excessiveness of her fgure.）

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“Who do you think I saw riding in the Park?”she inquired.“Why, the Count of Lebenstein.”

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“No！”Charles exclaimed, incredulous.

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“Yes，”Amelia answered.

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“Must be mistaken，”Charles cried.

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But Amelia stuck to it. More than that, she sent out emissaries to inquire diligently from the London lawyers, whose name had been mentioned to us by the ancestral frm in Unter den Lauben as their English agents, as to the whereabouts of our friend；and her emissaries learned in effect that the Count was in town and stopping at Morley’s.

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“I see through it，”Charles exclaimed.“He fnds he’s made a mistake；and now he’s come over here to reopen negotiations.”

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I was all for waiting prudently till the Count made the first move.“Don’t let him see your eagerness，”I said. But Amelia’s ardour could not now be restrained.She insisted that Charles should call on the Graf as a mere return of his politeness in the Tyrol.

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He was as charming as ever. He talked to us with delight about the quaintness of London.He would be ravished to dine next evening with Sir Charles.He desired his respectful salutations meanwhile to Miladi Vandrift and Madame Ventvorth.

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He dined with us, almost en famille. Amelia’s cook did wonders.In the billiard-room, about midnight, Charles reopened the subject.The Count was really touched.It pleased him that still, amid the distractions of the City of Five Million Souls, we should remember with affection hisbeloved Lebenstein.

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“Come to my lawyers，”he said，“to-morrow, and I will talk it all over with you.”

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We went—a most respectable frm in Southampton Row；old family solicitors. They had done business for years for the late Count, who had inherited from his grandmother estates in Ireland；and they were glad to be honoured with the confdence of his successor.Glad, too, to make the acquaintance of a prince of finance like Sir Charles Vandrift.Anxious（rubbing their hands）to arrange matters satisfactorily all round for everybody.（Two capital families with which to be mixed up, you see.）

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Sir Charles named a price, and referred them to his solicitors. The Count named a higher, but still a little come-down, and left the matter to be settled between the lawyers.He was a soldier and a gentleman, he said, with a Tyrolese toss of his high-born head；he would abandon details to men of business.

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As I was really anxious to oblige Amelia, I met the Count accidentally next day on the steps of Morley’s.（Accidentally, that is to say, so far as he was concerned, though I had been hanging about in Trafalgar Square for half an hour to see him.）I explained, in guarded terms, that I had a great deal of infuence in my way with Sir Charles；and that a word from me—I broke off. He stared at me blankly.

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“Commission?”he inquired, at last, with a queer little smile.

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“Well, not exactly commission，”I answered, wincing.“Still, a friendly word, you know. One good turn deserves another.”

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He looked at me from head to foot with a curious scrutiny. For one moment I feared the Tyrolese nobleman in him was going to raise its foot and take active measures.But the next, I saw that Sir Charles was right after all, and that pristine innocence has removed from this planet to otherquarters.

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He named his lowest price.“M. Ventvorth，”he said，“I am a Tyrolese seigneur；I do not dabble, myself, in commissions and percentages.But if your infuence with Sir Charles—we understand each other, do we not?—as between gentlemen—a little friendly present—no money, of course—but the equivalent of say 5 per cent in jewellery, on whatever sum above his bid to-day you induce him to offer—eh?—c’est convenu?”

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“Ten per cent is more usual，”I murmured.

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He was the Austrian hussar again.“Five, monsieur—or nothing！”

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I bowed and withdrew.“Well, fve then，”I answered，“just to oblige your Serenity.”

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A secretary, after all, can do a great deal. When it came to the scratch, I had but little difficulty in persuading Sir Charles, with Amelia’s aid, backed up on either side by Isabel and Césarine, to accede to the Count’s more reasonable proposal.The Southampton Row people had possession of certain facts as to the value of the wines in the Bordeaux market which clinched the matter.In a week or two all was settled；Charles and I met the Count by appointment in Southampton Row, and saw him sign, seal, and deliver the title-deeds of Schloss Lebenstein.My brother-in-law paid the purchase-money into the Count’s own hands, by cheque, crossed on a frst-class London frm where the Count kept an account to his high well-born order.Then he went away with the proud knowledge that he was owner of Schloss Lebenstein.And what to me was more important still, I received next morning by post a cheque for the fve per cent, unfortunately drawn, by some misapprehension, to my order on the self-same bankers, and with the Count’s signature.He explained in the accompanying note that the matter being now quite satisfactorily concluded, he saw no reason of delicacy why the amount he had promised should not be paid to meforthwith direct in money.

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I cashed the cheque at once, and said nothing about the affair, not even to Isabel. My experience is that women are not to be trusted with intricate matters of commission and brokerage.

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Though it was now late in March, and the House was sitting, Charles insisted that we must all run over at once to take possession of our magnifcent Tyrolese castle. Amelia was almost equally burning with eagerness.She gave herself the airs of a Countess already.We took the Orient Express as far as Munich；then the Brenner to Meran, and put up for the night at the Erzherzog Johann.Though we had telegraphed our arrival, and expected some fuss, there was no demonstration.Next morning we drove out in state to the schloss, to enter into enjoyment of our vines and fg-trees.

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We were met at the door by the surly steward.“I shall dismiss that man，”Charles muttered, as Lord of Lebenstein.“He’s too sour-looking for my taste. Never saw such a brute.Not a smile of welcome！”

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He mounted the steps. The surly man stepped forward and murmured a few morose words in German.Charles brushed him aside and strode on.Then there followed a curious scene of mutual misunderstanding.The surly man called lustily for his servants to eject us.It was some time before we began to catch at the truth.The surly man was the real Graf von Lebenstein.

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And the Count with the moustache?It dawned upon us now. Colonel Clay again！More audacious than ever！

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Bit by bit it all came out. He had ridden behind us the frst day we viewed the place, and, giving himself out to the servants as one of our party, had joined us in the reception-room.We asked the real Count why he had spoken to the intruder.The Count explained in French that theman with the moustache had introduced my brother-in-law as the great South African millionaire, while he described himself as our courier and interpreter.As such he had had frequent interviews with the real Graf and his lawyers in Meran, and had driven almost daily across to the castle.The owner of the estate had named one price from the frst, and had stuck to it manfully.He stuck to it still；and if Sir Charles chose to buy Schloss Lebenstein over again he was welcome to have it.How the London lawyers had been duped the Count had not really the slightest idea.He regretted the incident, and（coldly）wished us a very good morning.

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There was nothing for it but to return as best we might to the Erzherzog Johann, crestfallen, and telegraph particulars to the police in London.

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Charles and I ran across post-haste to England to track down the villain. At Southampton Row we found the legal firm by no means penitent；on the contrary, they were indignant at the way we had deceived them.An impostor had written to them on Lebenstein paper from Meran to say that he was coming to London to negotiate the sale of the schloss and surrounding property with the famous millionaire, Sir Charles Vandrift；and Sir Charles had demonstratively recognised him at sight as the real Count von Lebenstein.The frm had never seen the present Graf at all, and had swallowed the impostor whole, so to speak, on the strength of Sir Charles’s obvious recognition.He had brought over as documents some most excellent forgeries—facsimiles of the originals—which, as our courier and interpreter, he had every opportunity of examining and inspecting at the Meran lawyers’.It was a deeply-laid plot, and it had succeeded to a marvel.Yet, all of it depended upon the one small fact that we had accepted the man with the long moustache in the hall of the schloss as the Count von Lebenstein on his own representation.

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He held our cards in his hands when he came in；and the servant had not given them to him, but to the genuine Count. That was the one unsolved mystery in the whole adventure.

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By the evening’s post two letters arrived for us at Sir Charles’s house：one for myself, and one for my employer. Sir Charles’s ran thus：—

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“HIGH WELL-BORN INCOMPETENCE，—

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“I only just pulled through！A very small slip nearly lost me everything.I believed you were going to Schloss Planta that day, not to Schloss Lebenstein.You changed your mind en route.That might have spoiled all.Happily I perceived it, rode up by the short cut, and arrived somewhat hurriedly and hotly at the gate before you.Then I introduced myself.I had one more bad moment when the rival claimant to my name and title intruded into the room.But fortune favours the brave：your utter ignorance of German saved me.The rest was pap.It went by itself almost.

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“Allow me, now, as some small return for your various welcome cheques, to offer you a useful and valuable present—a German dictionary, grammar, and phrase-book！

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“I kiss your hand.

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“No longer

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“VON LEBENSTEIN.

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The other note was to me. It was as follows：—

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“DEAR GOOD MR.VENTVORTH，—

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“Ha, ha, ha；just a W misplaced sufficed to take you in, then！And I risked the TH, though anybody with a head on his shoulders would

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surely have known our TH is by far more difficult than our W for foreigners！However, all’s well that ends well；and now I’ve got you.The Lord has delivered you into my hands, dear friend—on your own initiative.I hold my cheque, endorsed by you, and cashed at my banker’s, as a hostage, so to speak, for your future good behaviour.If ever you recognise me, and betray me to that solemn old ass, your employer, remember, I expose it, and you with it to him.So now we understand each other.I had not thought of this little dodge；it was you who suggested it.However, I jumped at it.Was it not well worth my while paying you that slight commission in return for a guarantee of your future silence?Your mouth is now closed.And cheap too at the price.—Yours, dear Comrade, in the great confraternity of rogues，

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“CUTHBERT CLAY, Colonel.”

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Charles laid his note down, and grizzled.“What’s yours, Sey?”he asked.

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“From a lady，”I answered.

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He gazed at me suspiciously.“Oh, I thought it was the same hand，”he said. His eye looked through me.

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“No，”I answered.“Mrs. Mortimer’s.”But I confess I trembled.

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He paused a moment.“You made all inquiries at this fellow’s bank?”he went on, after a deep sigh.

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“Oh, yes，”I put in quickly.（I had taken good care about that, you may be sure, lest he should spot the commission.）“They say the self-styled Count von Lebenstein was introduced to them by the Southampton Row folks, and drew, as usual, on the Lebenstein account：so they were quite unsuspicious. A rascal who goes about the world on that scale, you know, and arrives with such credentials as theirs and yours, naturallyimposes on anybody.The bank didn’t even require to have him formally identifed.The frm was enough.He came to pay money in, not to draw it out.And he withdrew his balance just two days later, saying he was in a hurry to get back to Vienna.”

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Would he ask for items?I confess I felt it was an awkward moment. Charles, however, was too full of regrets to bother about the account.He leaned back in his easy chair, stuck his hands in his pockets, held his legs straight out on the fender before him, and looked the very picture of hopeless despondency.

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“Sey，”he began, after a minute or two, poking the fre, refectively，“what a genius that man has！‘Pon my soul, I admire him. I sometimes wish—”He broke off and hesitated.

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“Yes, Charles?”I answered.

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“I sometimes wish……we had got him on the Board of the Cloetedorp Golcondas. Mag—nifcent combinations he would make in the City！”

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I rose from my seat and stared solemnly at my misguided brother-in-law.

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“Charles，”I said，“you are beside yourself. Too much Colonel Clay has told upon your clear and splendid intellect.There are certain remarks which, however true they may be, no self-respecting financier should permit himself to make, even in the privacy of his own room, to his most intimate friend and trusted adviser.”

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Charles fairly broke down.“You are right, Sey，”he sobbed out.“Quite right. Forgive this outburst.At moments of emotion the truth will sometimes out, in spite of everything.”

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I respected his feebleness. I did not even make it a ftting occasion to ask for a trifing increase of salary.

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序号 英文/音标 中文解释 更多操作

courier

['kʊriə(r)]

n.送快信的;急差;旅行服务员

cuisine

[kwɪ'ziːn]

n.烹饪;佳肴

madame

['mædəm]

n.夫人

personage

['pɜːsənɪdʒ]

n.名流;要人;人物;角色

Alps

[ælps]

n.阿尔卑斯山脉

colonnade

[ˌkɒlə'neɪd]

n.柱廊;列柱

bestow

[bɪ'stəʊ]

v.授予;给予;使用;放置

Madame

['mædəm]

n.夫人

Brighton

[ˈbraɪtn]

布赖顿码头(英国南部海岸避暑胜地), 布赖顿的游乐场所

nasty

['nɑːsti]

adj.下流的;严重的;令人不快的;难懂的;危害的

remuneration

[rɪˌmjuːnə'reɪʃn]

n.报酬;酬劳;赔偿

amateur

['æmətə(r)]

n.外行;业余爱好者

vineyard

['vɪnjəd]

n.葡萄园;酿酒庄园

revel

['revl]

vi.狂欢作乐;陶醉

nobleman

['nəʊblmən]

n.贵族

valuation

[ˌvælju'eɪʃn]

n.评价;估价

abomination

[əˌbɒmɪ'neɪʃn]

n.憎恨;痛恶;可憎的事物

Serenity

[sə'renəti]

n.宁静;沉着

Austrian

['ɒstriən]

n.奥地利人

acquaintance

[ə'kweɪntəns]

n.熟人;相识;了解

inhabit

[ɪn'hæbɪt]

v.居住于;占据;栖息

harangue

[hə'ræŋ]

v.慷慨激昂地劝说;做长篇演说

aright

[ə'raɪt]

adv.正确地

millionaire

[ˌmɪljə'neə(r)]

n.百万富翁

uttermost

['ʌtəməʊst]

adj.极度的;最大的;最远的;最外面的

abate

[ə'beɪt]

v.缓和;减弱;消除

compassionate

[kəm'pæʃənət]

adj.有同情心的

nobility

[nəʊ'bɪləti]

n.贵族;高尚

disgust

[dɪs'ɡʌst]

n.厌恶;憎恶;反感

parley

['pɑːli]

n.会谈;谈判

transcribe

[træn'skraɪb]

v.抄写;用音标标出;改编(乐曲);转录

lineage

['lɪniɪdʒ]

n.家系;直系;血统

tremor

['tremə(r)]

n.震动;颤动;战栗;兴奋;地震

incredulous

[ɪn'kredjələs]

adj.怀疑的;不轻信的

Amelia

[eɪˈmiːlɪə]

n.阿米莉亚(女子名)

emissary

['emɪsəri]

n.密使;特使

reopen

[ˌriː'əʊpən]

v.重开;再开

Tyrol

[tɪˈrəʊl]

n.提洛尔

satisfactorily

[ˌsætɪs'fæktərəli]

adv.满意地;圆满地

Tyrolese

[tɪrəˈliːz]

n.提洛尔人

queer

[kwɪə(r)]

a. 古怪的，奇怪的;

wince

[wɪns]

n.畏缩;(因痛苦或苦恼等)面部肌肉抽搐

innocence

['ɪnəsns]

n.无罪;清白;无知;天真无邪

cent

[sent]

n.分

murmur

['mɜːmə(r)]

n. 低沉连续的声音(如风的沙沙声、流水的淙淙声等);

monsieur

[mə'sjɜː]

n.(法语)先生

delicacy

['delɪkəsi]

n.柔弱;精致;优雅;谨慎;佳肴

intricate

['ɪntrɪkət]

adj.复杂的;难懂的

vine

[vaɪn]

n.藤;蔓;攀爬植物

brute

[bruːt]

n.畜生;残忍的人

surly

['sɜːli]

adj.脾气坏的;乖戾的;不友好的;(天气)阴沉的;傲慢的

audacious

[ɔː'deɪʃəs]

adj.无畏的;放肆的;大胆创新的

dupe

[djuːp]

n.受骗的人;上当者

telegraph

['telɪɡrɑːf]

n.电报

moustache

[mə'stɑːʃ]

n.小胡子;八字须.

unsolved

[ˌʌn'sɒlvd]

adj.未解决的

INCOMPETENCE

[ɪn'kɒmpɪtəns]

n.无能力;不合格;不能胜任

ignorance

['ɪɡnərəns]

n.无知;愚昧

grammar

['ɡræmə(r)]

n.语法

suffice

[sə'faɪs]

vi.足够;使满足

confraternity

[ˌkɒnfrə'tɜːnɪtɪ]

n.团体;协会;帮会

Colonel

['kɜːnl]

n.上校

credential

[krə'denʃl]

n.国书;凭据;印信

despondency

[dɪ'spɒndənsi]

n.失去勇气;失望;沮丧

financier

[faɪ'nænsiə(r)]

n.金融家;理财家

outburst

['aʊtbɜːst]

n.爆发;突发;(感情)迸发

feebleness

['fiːblnəs]

n.衰弱;微弱;无力

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