第 7 节
作者:沸点123      更新:2023-05-17 13:23      字数:9322
  Spurred by this motiveand I think it is an honourable and a right motive…
  …I   find   I   am  enabled to overcome   my  usual   repugnance   to   talking   about
  myself; and can thus tell …
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  MY OWN STORY
  As soon as my uncle had finished his story; I; as I have already told
  you; rose up and said that _I_ would sleep in the Blue Chamber that very
  night。
  〃Never!〃 cried my uncle; springing up。            〃You shall not put yourself in
  this deadly peril。     Besides; the bed is not made。〃
  〃Never     mind     the   bed;〃   I  replied。    〃I    have    lived   in  furnished
  apartments for gentlemen; and have been accustomed to sleep on beds that
  have never been made from one year's end to the other。                   Do not thwart
  me in my resolve。        I am young; and have had a clear conscience now for
  over a month。       The spirits will not harm me。          I may even do them some
  little good; and induce them to be quiet and go away。                Besides; I should
  like to see the show。〃
  Saying which; I sat down again。            (How Mr。 Coombes came to be in
  my chair; instead of at the other side of the room; where he had been all
  the evening; and why he never offered to apologise when I sat right down
  on top of him; and why young Biffles should have tried to palm himself
  off   upon   me   as   my   Uncle   John;   and   induced   me;   under   that   erroneous
  impression;   to   shake   him   by   the   hand   for   nearly   three   minutes;   and   tell
  him that I had always regarded him as father;are matters that; to this day;
  I have never been able to fully understand。)
  They     tried  to  dissuade    me   from    what   they   termed    my    foolhardy
  enterprise;   but   I   remained   firm;   and   claimed   my   privilege。    I   was   'the
  guest。'    'The   guest'   always   sleeps   in   the   haunted   chamber   on   Christmas
  Eve; it is his perquisite。
  They said that if I put it on that footing; they had; of course; no answer;
  and they lighted a candle for me; and accompanied me upstairs in a body。
  Whether   elevated   by   the   feeling   that   I   was   doing   a   noble   action;   or
  animated by a mere general consciousness of rectitude; is not for me to say;
  but I went upstairs that night with remarkable buoyancy。 It was as much as
  I could do to stop at the landing when I came to it; I felt I wanted to go on
  up    to  the  roof。   But;   with   the  help   of  the   banisters;   I  restrained   my
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  ambition; wished them all good… night; and went in and shut the door。
  Things began to go wrong with me from the very first。                     The candle
  tumbled out of the candlestick before my hand was off the lock。                      It kept
  on tumbling out of the candlestick; and every time I picked put it up and
  put   it   in;   it   tumbled   out   again: I   never   saw   such   a   slippery   candle。 I
  gave   up   attempting   to   use  the   candlestick   at   last;   and   carried   the   candle
  about in   my  hand;   and;  even   then; it   would   not keep   upright。        So   I  got
  wild   and   threw  it   out   of   window;  and   undressed   and   went   to   bed   in  the
  dark。
  I did not go to sleep;I did not feel sleepy at all;I lay on my back;
  looking     up   at   the  ceiling;   and    thinking    of  things。     I  wish    I  could
  remember some of the ideas that came to me as I lay there; because they
  were   so   amusing。      I   laughed   at   them   myself   till   the   bed   shook。 I   had
  been lying like this for half an hour or so; and had forgotten all about the
  ghost; when; on casually casting my eyes round the room; I noticed for the
  first time a singularly contented…looking phantom; sitting in the easy…chair
  by the fire; smoking the ghost of a long clay pipe。
  I   fancied    for  the   moment;      as  most    people     would    under    similar
  circumstances; that I must be dreaming。              I sat up; and rubbed my eyes。
  No!     It was a ghost; clear enough。          I could see the back of the chair
  through   his   body。     He   looked   over   towards   me;   took   the   shadowy   pipe
  from his lips; and nodded。
  The most surprising part of the whole thing to me was that I did not
  feel in the least alarmed。        If anything; I was rather pleased to see him。            It
  was company。
  I said; 〃Good evening。         It's been a cold day!〃
  He said he had not noticed it himself; but dared say I was right。
  We   remained   silent   for   a   few   seconds;   and   then;   wishing   to   put   it
  pleasantly; I said; 〃I believe I have the honour of addressing the ghost of
  the gentleman who had the accident with the wait?〃
  He smiled; and said it was very good of me to remember it。                   One wait
  was not much to boast of; but still; every little helped。
  I was somewhat staggered at his answer。                I had expected a groan of
  remorse。      The ghost appeared; on the contrary; to be rather conceited over
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  the business。      I thought that; as he had taken my reference to the wait so
  quietly; perhaps he would not be offended if I questioned him about the
  organ…grinder。       I felt curious about that poor boy。
  〃Is it true;〃 I asked; 〃that you had a hand in the death of that Italian
  peasant   lad   who   came   to   the   town   once   with   a   barrel…organ   that   played
  nothing but Scotch airs?〃
  He   quite   fired   up。   〃Had   a   hand   in   it!〃   he   exclaimed   indignantly。
  〃Who   has   dared   to   pretend   that   he   assisted   me?   I   murdered   the   youth
  myself。     Nobody  helped   me。         Alone   I   did   it。 Show   me   the   man   who
  says I didn't。〃
  I   calmed   him。    I   assured   him   that   I   had   never;   in   my   own   mind;
  doubted that he was the real and only assassin; and I went on and asked
  him what he had done with the body of the cornet…player he had killed。
  He said; 〃To which one may you be alluding?〃
  〃Oh; were there any more then?〃 I inquired。
  He smiled; and gave a little cough。            He said he did not like to appear
  to be boasting; but that; counting trombones; there were seven。
  〃Dear me!〃 I replied; 〃you must have had quite a busy time of it; one
  way and another。〃
  He   said   that   perhaps   he   ought   not   to   be   the   one   to   say   so;   but   that
  really;   speaking   of   ordinary   middle…society;   he   thought   there   were   few
  ghosts who could look back upon a life of more sustained usefulness。
  He puffed away in silence for a few seconds; while I sat watching him。
  I had   never seen a  ghost   smoking a  pipe  before; that   I  could remember;
  and it interested me。
  I asked him what tobacco he used; and he replied; 〃The ghost of cut
  cavendish; as a rule。〃
  He explained that the ghost of all the tobacco that a man smoked in
  life   belonged   to   him   when   he   became   dead。       He   said   he   himself   had
  smoked a good deal of cut cavendish when he was alive; so that he was
  well supplied with the ghost of it now。
  I observed that it was a useful thing to know that; and I made up my
  mind to smoke as much tobacco as ever I could before I died。
  I thought I might as well start at once; so I said I would join him in a
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  pipe;   and   he   said;   〃Do;   old   man〃;   and   I   reached   over   and   got   out   the
  necessary paraphernalia from my coat pocket and lit up。
  We grew quite chummy after that; and he told me all his crimes。                    He
  said he had lived next door once to a young lady who was learning to play
  the    guitar;  while    a  gentleman     who    practised    on   the  bass…   viol   lived
  opposite。      And     he;  with   fiendish    cunning;    had   introduced     these   two
  unsuspecting   young   people   to   one   another;   and   had   persuaded   them   to
  elope with each other against their parents' wishes; and take their musical
  instruments with them; and they had done so; and; before the honeymoon
  was over; SHE had broken his head with the bass…viol; and HE had tried to
  cram the guitar down her throat; and had injured her for life。
  My friend said he used to lure muffin…men into the pas