alistairmaclean.bearisland-第42部分

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　〃Christopher　Marlowe？　just　like　the　playwright；　eh？〃
　〃My　parents　had　literary　inclinations。〃
　〃Uh…huh。〃　He　paused　again。　〃Remember　what　happened　to　your　namesake…stabbed　in　the　back　by　a　friend　before　his　thirtieth　birthday？〃
　〃Rest　easy。　My　thirtieth　birthday　is　lost　in　the　mists　of　time。〃
　〃And　you're　really　a　doctor？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃And　you're　really　something　else；　too？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃Lonnie。　Marital　status。　Children　or　no。　You　may　rely　on　Conrad's　discretion。〃
　〃Thanks；〃　I　said。　We　moved　apart。　We　were　walking　to　the　north　for　two　reasons…the　wind；　and　hence　the　snow；　were　to　our　backs　and　so　progress　was　easier　in　that　direction；　and　Allen　had　e　stumbling　from　that　direction。　In　spite　of　Allen's　professed　total　lack　of　recall　of　what　had　happened；　it　seemed　likely　to　me　that　we　might　find　Stryker　also　somewhere　in　that　direction。　And　so　it　proved。
　〃Over　here！　Over　here！〃　In　spite　of　the　muffling　effects　of　the　snow　Hendriks's　shout　sounded　curiously　high…pitched　and　cracked。　〃I've　found　him；　I've　found　him！〃
　He'd　found　him；　all　right。　Michael　Stryker　was　lying　face　down　in　the　snow；　arms　and　legs　outspread　in　an　almost　perfectly　symmetrical　fashion。　Both　fists　were　clenched　tight。　On　the　snow；　beside　his　left　shoulder；　lay　a　smooth　elliptical　stone　which　from　its　size…it　must　have　weighed　between　sixty　and　seventy　pounds…better　qualified　for　the　name　of　boulder。　I　stooped　low　over　this　boulder；　bringing　the　torch　close；　and　at　once　saw　the　few　dark　hairs　imbedded　in　the　dark　and　encrusted　stain。　Proof　if　proof　were　required　but　I　hadn't　doubted　anyway　that　this　was　what　had　been　used　to　smash　in　the　back　of　Stryker's　skull。　Death　would　have　been　instantaneous；
　〃He's　dead！　Jungbeck　said　incredulously。
　〃He's　all　that；〃　I　said。
　〃And　murdered！〃
　〃That；　too。〃　I　tried　to　turn　him　over　on　his　back　but　Conrad　and　Jungbeck　had　to　lend　their　not　inconsiderable　weights　before　this　was　done。
　His　upper　lip　was　viciously　split　all　the　way　down　from　the　nostril；　a　tooth　was　missing　and　he　had　a　peculiar　red　and　raw　looking　mark　on　his　right　temple。
　〃By　God；　there　must　have　been　a　fight；〃　Jungbeck　said　huskily。　〃I　wouldn't　have　thought　that　kid　Allen　had　had　it　in　him。〃
　〃I　wouldn't　have　thought　so　either；〃　I　said。
　〃Allen？〃　Conrad　said。　〃I'd　have　sworn　he　was　telling　the　truth。　Could　he…well；　do　you　think　it　could　have　happened　when　he　was　suffering　from　amnesia？〃
　〃All　sorts　of　funny　things　can　happen　when　you've　had　a　bump　on　the　head；〃　I　said。　I　looked　at　the　ground　around　the　dead　man；　there　were　footprints　there；　not　many；　already　faint　and　blurred　from　the　driving　snow：　there　was　no　help　to　be　gained　from　that　quarter。　I　said：　〃Let's　get　him　back。〃
　So　we　carried　the　dead　man　back　to　the　camp　and　it　wasn't；　in　spite　of　the　uneven　terrain　and　the　snow　in　our　faces；　as　difficult　a　task　as　it　might　have　been　for　the　same　reason　that　I'd　found　it　so　difficult　to　turn　him　over…the　limbs　had　already　begun　to　stiffen；　not　from　the　onset　of　rigor　mortis；　for　it　was　too　soon　for　that　yet；　but　from　the　effects　of　the　intense　cold。　We　laid　him　in　the　snow　outside　the　main　cabin。　I　said　to　Hendriks：　〃Go　inside　and　ask　Goin　for　a　bottle　of　brandy…say　that　I　sent　you　back　for　it；　that　we　need　it　to　keep　us　going。〃　It　was　the　last　thing　I　would　ever　have　remended　to　keep　anyone　warm　in　bitter　outdoor　cold；　but　it　was　all　I　could　think　of　on　the　spur　of　the　moment。　〃Tell　Goin　…quietly…to　e　here。〃
　Goin；　clearly　aware　that　there　was　something　far　amiss；　walked　out　casually　and　casually　shut　the　door　behind　him；　but　there　was　nothing　casual　about　his　reaction　when　he　saw　Stryker　lying　there；　his　gashed　and　marble…white　face　a　death's　head　in　the　harsh　light　of　several　torches。　Goin's　own　face　was　clear　enough　in　the　backwash　of　light　reflected　from　the　snow。　The　shocked　expression　on　his　face　he　could　have　arranged　for：　the　draining　of　blood　that　left　it　almost　as　white　as　Stryker's　he　couldn't。
　Jesus　Christ！〃　he　whispered。　〃Dead？〃
　I　said　nothing；　just　turned　the　dead　man　over　with　Conrad's　and　Jung　beck's　help　again。　This　time　it　was　more　difficult。　Goin　made　a　strange　noise　in　his　throat　but　otherwise　didn't　react　at　all；　I　suppose　he'd　nothing　left　to　react　with；　he　just　stood　there　and　stared　as　the　driving　snow　whitened　the　dead　man's　anorak　and；　mercifully；　the　fearful　wound　in　the　occiput。　For　what　seemed　quite　a　long　time　we　stood　there　in　silence；　gazing　down　at　the　dead　man：　I　was　aware；　almost　subconsciously；　that　the　wind；　now　veering　beyond　south；　was　strengthening；　for　the　thickening　snow　was　driving　along　now　almost　parallel　to　the　ground：　I　do　not　know　what　the　temperature　was　but　it　must　have　been　close　on　thirty　degrees　below　freezing。　I　was　dimly　aware　that　I　was　shaking　with　the　cold：　looking　around；　I　could　see　that　the　others　were　also。　Our　breaths　froze　as　they　struck　the　icy　Mr。　but　the　wind　whipped　them　away　before　the　vapour　had　time　to　form。
　〃Accident？〃　Goin　said　hoarsely。　〃It　could　have　been　an　accident？〃
　〃No；〃　I　said。　I　saw　the　boulder　that　was　used　to　crush　his　skull　in。〃
　Goin　made　the　same　curious　noise　in　his　throat　again　and　I　went　on：　〃We　can't　leave　him　here　and　we　can't　take　him　inside。　I　suggest　we　leave　him　in　the　tractor　shed。〃
　〃Yes；　yes；　the　tractor　shed；〃　Goin　said。　He　really　didn't　know　what　he　was　saying。
　〃And　who's　going　to　break　the　news　to　Miss　Haynes？〃　I　went　on。　God　alone　knew　that　I　didn't　fancy　doing　it。
　'What？〃　He　was　still　shocked。　〃What　was　that？〃
　〃His　wife。　She'll　have　to　be　told。〃　As　a　doctor；　I　supposed　I　was　the　one　to　do　it　but　the　decision　was　taken　from　my　hands。　The　cabin　door　was　jerked　abruptly　open　and　Judith　Haynes；　her　two　dogs　by　her　ankles；　stood　there　framed　against　the　light　from　the　interior　with　Otto　and　the　Count　just　vaguely　discernible　behind　her。　She　stood　there　for　some　little　time；　a　hand　on　either　doorjamb；　quite　immobile　and　without　any　expression　that　I　could　see；　then　walked　forward　in　a　curiously　dreamlike　fashion　and　stooped　over　her　husband。　After　a　few　moments　she　straightened；　looked　around　as　if　puzzled；　then　turned　questioning　eyes　on　me；　but　only　for　a　moment；　for　the　questioning　eyes　turned　up　in　her　head　and　she　crumpled　and　fell　heavily　across　Stryker's　body　before　I　or　anyone　could　get　to　her。　Conrad　and　I；　with　Goin　following；　brought　her　inside　and　laid　her　on　the　camp　cot　so　lately　occupied　by　Smithy。　The　cocker　spaniels　had　to　be　forcibly　restrained　from　joining　her。　Her　face　was　alabaster　white　and　her　breathing　very　shallow。　I　lifted　up　her　right　eyelid　and　there　was　no　resistance　to　my　thumb：　it　was　only　an　automatic　reaction　on　my　part；　it　hadn't　even　occurred　to　me　that　the　faint　wasn't　genuine。　I　became　aware　that　Otto　was　standing　close　by；　his　eyes　wide；　his　mouth　slightly　open；　his　hands　clenched　together　until　the　ivory　knuckles　showed。　〃Is　she　all　right？〃　he　asked　hoarsely。　〃Will　she…〃
　〃She'll　e　to；〃　I　said。
　〃Smelling　salts；〃　he　said。　〃Perhaps…〃
　〃No。〃　Smelling　salts；　to　hasten　her　recovery　to　the　bitter　reality　she　would　have　to　face。
　〃And　Michael？　My　son…in…law？　He's…I　mean…〃
　〃You　saw　him；〃　I　said　almost　irritably。　〃He's　dead；　of　course　he's　dead。〃
　〃But　how…but　how…〃
　〃He　was　murdered。〃　
　There　were　one　or　two　involuntary　exclamations；　the　shocked　indrawing　of　breath；　then　a　silence　that　became　intensified　with　the　passing　of　seconds　by　the　hissing　of　the　Coleman　lamps。　I　didn't　even　bother　to　look　up　to　see　what　the　individual　reactions　might　be　for　I　knew　by　now　that　I'd　learn　nothing　that　way。　I　just　looked　at　the　unconscious　woman　and　didn't　know　what　to　think。　Stryker；　the　tough　urbane；　cynical　Stryker　had；　in　his　own　way；　been　terrified　of　this　woman。　Had　it　been　because　of　the　power　she　had　wielded　as　Otto's　daughter；　his　knowledge　that　his　livelihood　was　entirely　dependent　on　her　most　wayward　whim；　and　I　could　imagine　few　more　gifted　exponents　of　the　wayward　whim　than　Judith　Haynes？　Had　it　been　because　of　her　pathological　jealousy　which　I　knew　beyond　all　question　to　exist；　because　of　the　instant　bitchiness　which　could　allegedly　range　from　the　irrational　to　the　insane　or　had　she　held　over　his　head　the　threat　of　some　nameless　blackmail　which　could　bring　him　at　once　to　his　knees？　Had　he；　in　his　own　way；　even　loved　his　wife　and　hoped　against　hopeless　hope　that　she　might　reciprocate　some　of　this　and　been　prepared　to　suffer　any　humiliation；　any　insult；　in　the　hope　that　he　might　achieve　this　or　part　of　it？　I'd　never　know　but　the　questions　were　academic　anyway；　Stryker　no　longer　concerned　me；　I　was　only　turning　them　over　in　my　mind　wondering　in　what　way　they　could　throw　any　light　on　Judith　Haynes's　totally　unexpected　reaction　to　Stryker's　death。　She　had　despised　him；　she　must　have　despised　him　for　his　dependence　upon　her；　his　weakness；　his　meek　acceptance　of　insult；　the　fear　he　had　displayed　before　me；　for　the　emptiness　and　nothingness　that　had　lain　concealed　behind　so　impressively　masculine　a　facade。　But　had　she　loved　him　at　the　same　time；　loved　him　for　what　he　had　been　or　might　have　been；　or　was　she　just　desolated　at　the　loss　of　her　most　cherished　whipping　boy；　the　one　sure　person　in　the　world　upon　whom　she　knew　she　could　with　impunity　vent　her　wayward　sple