showingtyrants
hunting
,
you
may
see
just
those
almond
eyes
,
those
blue‑black
beards
,
those
cruel
,
crimson
lips
.
Then
came
Syme
,
and
next
a
very
old
man
,
Professor
de
Worms
,
who
still
kept
the
chair
of
Friday
,
though
every
day
it
was
expected
that
his
death
would
leave
it
empty
.
Save
for
his
intellect
,
he
was
in
the
last
dissolution
of
senile
decay
.
His
face
was
as
grey
as
his
long
grey
beard
,
his
forehead
was
lifted
and
fixed
finally
in
a
furrow
of
mild
despair
.
In
no
other
case
,
not
even
that
of
Gogol
,
did
the
bridegroom
brilliancy
of
the
morning
dress
express
a
more
painful
contrast
.
For
the
red
flower
in
his
button‑hole
showed
up
against
a
face
that
was
literally
discoloured
like
lead
;
the
whole
hideous
effect
was
as
if
some
drunken
dandies
had
put
their
clothes
upon
a
corpse
.
When
he
rose
or
sat
down
,
which
was
with
long
labour
and
peril
,
something
worse
was
expressed
than
mere
weakness
,
something
indefinably
connected
with
the
horror
of
the
whole
scene
.
It
did
not
express
decrepitude
merely
,
but
corruption
.
Another
hateful
fancy
crossed
Syme’s
quivering
mind
.
He
could
not
help
thinking
that
whenever
the
man
moved
a
leg
or
arm
might
fall
off
.
Right
at
the
end
sat
the
man
called
Saturday
,
the
simplest
and
the
most
baffling
of
all
.
He
was
a
short
,
square
man
with
a
dark
,
square
face
clean-shaven
,
a
medical
practitioner
going
by
the
name
of
Bull
.
He
had
that
combination
of
savoir‑faire
with
a
sort
of
well-groomed
coarseness
which
is
not
uncommon
in
young
doctors
.
He
carried
his
fine
clothes
with
confidence
rather
than
ease
,
and
he
mostly
wore
a
set
smile
.
There
was
nothing
whatever
odd
about
him
,
except
that
he
wore
a
pair
of
dark
,
almost
opaque
spectacles
.
It
may
have
been
merely
a
crescendo
of
nervous
fancy
that
had
gone
before
,
but
those
black
discs
were
dreadful
to
Syme
;
they
reminded
him
of
half‑remembered
ugly
tales
,
of
some
story
about
pennies
being
put
on
the
eyes
of
the
dead
.
Syme’s
eye
always
caught
the
black
glasses
and
the
blind
grin
.
Had
the
dying
Professor
worn
them
,
or
even
the
pale
Secretary
,
they
would
have
been
appropriate
.
But
on
the
younger
and
grosser
man
they
seemed
only
an
enigma
.
They
took
away
the
key
of
the
face
.
You
could
not
tell
what
his
smile
or
his
gravity
meant
.
Partly
from
this
,
and
partly
because
he
had
a
vulgar
virility
wanting
in
most
of
the
others
it
seemed
to
Syme
that
he
might
be
the
wickedest
of
all
those
wicked
men
.
Syme
even
had
the
thought
that
his
eyes
might
be
covered
up
because
they
were
too
frightful
to
see
.
CHAPTER
VI
THE
EXPOSURE
SUCH
were
the
six
men
who
had
sworn
to
destroy
the
world
.
Again
and
again
Syme
strove
to
pull
together
his
common
sense
in
their
presence
.
Sometimes
he
saw
for
an
instant
that
these
notions
were
subjective
,
that
he
was
only
looking
at
ordinary
men
,
one
of
whom
was
old
,
another
nervous
,
another
short‑sighted
.
The
sense
of
an
unnatural
symbolism
always
settled
back
on
him
again
.
Each
figure
seemed
to
be
,
somehow
,
on
the
borderland
of
things
,
just
as
their
theory
was
on
the
borderland
of
thought
.
He
knew
that
each
one
of
these
men
stood
at
the
extreme
end
,
so
to
speak
,
of
some
wild
road
of
reasoning
.
He
could
only
fancy
,
as
in
some
old‑world
fable
,
that
if
a
man
went
westward
to
the
end
of
the
world
he
would
find
something
—
say
a
tree
—
that
was
more
or
less
than
a
tree
,
a
tree
possessed
by
a
spirit
;
and
that
if
he
went
east
to
the
end
of
the
world
he
would
find
something
else
that
was
not
wholly
itself
—
a
tower
,
perhaps
,
of
which
the
very
shape
was
wicked
.
So
these
figures
seemed
to
stand
up
,
violent
and
unaccountable
,
against
an
ultimate
horizon
,
visions
from
the
verge
.
The
ends
of
the
earth
were
closing
in
.
Talk
had
been
going
on
steadily
as
he
took
in
the
scene
;
and
not
the
least
of
the
contrasts
of
that
bewildering
breakfast‑table
was
the
contrast
between
the
easy
and
unobtrusive
tone
of
talk
and
its
terrible
purport
.
They
were
deep
in
the
discussion
of
an
actual
and
immediate
plot
.
The
waiter
downstairs
had
spoken
quite
correctly
when
he
said
that
they
were
talking
about
bombs
and
kings
.
Only
three
days
afterwards
the
Czar
was
to
meet
the
President
of
the
French
Republic
in
Paris
,
and
over
their
bacon
and
eggs
upon
their
sunny
balcony
these
beaming
gentlemen
had
decided
how
both
should
die
.
Even
the
instrument
was
chosen
;
the
black‑bearded
Marquis
,
it
appeared
,
was
to
carry
the
bomb
.
Ordinarily
speaking
,
the
proximity
of
this
positive
and
objective
crime
would
have
sobered
Syme
,
and
cured
him
of
all
his
merely
mystical
tremors
.
He
would
have
thought
of
nothing
but
the
need
of
saving
at
least
two
human
bodies
from
being
ripped
in
pieces
with
iron
and
roaring
gas
.
But
the
truth
was
that
by
this
time
he
had
begun
to
feel
a
third
kind
of
fear
,
more
piercing
and
practical
than
either
his
moral
revulsion
or
his
social
responsibility
.
Very
simply
,
he
had
no
fear
to
spare
for
the
French
President
or
the
Czar
;
he
had
begun
to
fear
for
himself
.
Most
of
the
talkers
took
little
heed
of
him
,
debating
now
with
their
faces
closer
together
,
and
almost
uniformly
grave
,
save
when
for
an
instant
the
smile
of
the
Secretary
ran
aslant
across
his
face
as
the
jagged
lightning
runs
aslant
across
the
sky
.
But
there
was
one
persistent
thing
which
first
troubled
Syme
and
at
last
terrified
him
.
The
President
was
always
looking
at
him
,
steadily
,
and
with
a
great
and
baffling
interest
.
The
enormous
man
was
quite
quiet
,
but
his
blue
eyes
stood
out
of
his
head
.
And
they
were
always
fixed
on
Syme
.
Syme
felt
moved
to
spring
up
and
leap
over
the
balcony
.
When
the
President’s
eyes
were
on
him
he
felt
as
if
he
were
made
of
glass
.
He
had
hardly
the
shred
of
a
doubt
that
in
some
silent
and
extraordinary
way
Sunday
had
found
out
that
he
was
a
spy
.
He
looked
over
the
edge
of
the
balcony
,
and
saw
a
policeman
,
standing
abstractedly
just
beneath
,
staring
at
the
bright
railings
and
the
sunlit
trees
.
Then
there
fell
upon
him
the
great
temptation
that
was
to
torment
him
for
many
days
.
In
the
presence
of
these
powerful
and
repulsive
men
,
who
were
the
princes
of
anarchy
,
he
had
almost
forgotten
the
frail
and
fanciful
figure
of
the
poet
Gregory
,
the
mere
aesthete
of
anarchism
.
He
even
thought
of
him
now
with
an
old
kindness
,
as
if
they
had
played
together
when
children
.
But
he
remembered
that
he
was
still
tied
to
Gregory
by
a
great
promise
.
He
had
promised
never
to
do
the
very
thing
that
he
now
felt
himself
almost
in
the
act
of
doing
.
He
had
promised
not
to
jump
over
that
balcony
and
speak
to
that
policeman
.
He
took
his
cold
hand
off
the
cold
stone
balustrade
.
His
soul
swayed
in
a
vertigo
of
moral
indecision
.
He
had
only
to
snap
the
thread
of
a
rash
vow
made
to
a
villainous
society
,
and
all
his
life
could
be
as
open
and
sunny
as
the
square
beneath
him
.
He
had
,
on
the
other
hand
,
only
to
keep
his
antiquated
honour
,
and
be
delivered
inch
by
inch
into
the
power
of
this
great
enemy
of
mankind
,
whose
very
intellect
was
a
torture-chamber
.
Whenever
he
looked
down
into
the
square
he
saw
the
comfortable
policeman
,
a
pillar
of
common
sense
and
common
order
.
Whenever
he
looked
back
at
the
breakfast‑table
he
saw
the
President
still
quietly
studying
him
with
big
,
unbearable
eyes
.
In
all
the
torrent
of
his
thought
there
were
two
thoughts
that
never
crossed
his
mind
.
First
,
it
never
occurred
to
him
to
doubt
that
the
President
and
his
Council
could
crush
him
if
he
continued
to
stand
alone
.
The
place
might
be
public
,
the
project
might
seem
impossible
.
But
Sunday
was
not
the
man
who
would
carry
himself
thus
easily
without
having
,
somehow
or
somewhere
,
set
open
his
iron
trap
.
Either
by
anonymous
poison
or
sudden
street
accident
,
by
hypnotism
or
by
fire
from
hell
,
Sunday
could
certainly
strike
him
.
If
he
defied
the
man
he
was
probably
dead
,
either
struck
stiff
there
in
his
chair
or
long
afterwards
as
by
an
innocent
ailment
.
If
he
called
in
the
police
promptly
,
arrested
everyone
,
told
all
,
and
set
against
them
the
whole
energy
of
England
,
he
would
probably
escape
;
certainly
not
otherwise
.
They
were
a
balconyful
of
gentlemen
overlooking
a
bright
and
busy
square
;
but
he
felt
no
more
safe
with
them
than
if
they
had
been
a
boatful
of
armed
pirates
overlooking
an
empty
sea
.
There
was
a
second
thought
that
never
came
to
him
.
It
never
occurred
to
him
to
be
spiritually
won
over
to
the
enemy
.
Many
moderns
,
inured
to
a
weak
worship
of
intellect
and
force
,
might
have
wavered
in
their
allegiance
under
this
oppression
of
a
great
personality
.
They
might
have
called
Sunday
the
super‑man
.
If
any
such
creature
be
conceivable
,
he
looked
,
indeed
,
somewhat
like
it
,
with
his
earth‑shaking
abstraction
,
as
of
a
stone
statue
walking
.
He
might
have
been
called
something
above
man
,
with
his
large
plans
,
which
were
too
obvious
to
be
detected
,
with
his
large
face
,
which
was
too
frank
to
be
understood
.
But
this
was
a
kind
of
modern
meanness
to
which
Syme
could
not
sink
even
in
his
extreme
morbidity
.
Like
any
man
,
he
was
coward
enough
to
fear
great
force
;
but
he
was
not
quite
coward
enough
to
admire
it
.
The
men
were
eating
as
they
talked
,
and
even
in
this
they
were
typical
.
Dr.
Bull
and
the
Marquis
ate
casually
and
conventionally
of
the
best
things
on
the
table
—
cold
pheasant
or
Strasbourg
pie
.
But
the
Secretary
was
a
vegetarian
,
and
he
spoke
earnestly
of
the
projected
murder
over
half
a
raw
tomato
and
three
quarters
of
a
glass
of
tepid
water
.
The
old
Professor
had
such
slops
as
suggested
a
sickening
second
childhood
.
And
even
in
this
President
Sunday
preserved
his
curious
predominance
of
mere
mass.
For
he
ate
like
twenty
men
;
he
ate
incredibly
,
with
a
frightful
freshness
of
appetite
,
so
that
it
was
like
watching
a
sausage
factory
.
Yet
continually
,
when
he
had
swallowed
a
dozen
crumpets
or
drunk
a
quart
of
coffee
,
he
would
be
found
with
his
great
head
on
one
side
staring
at
Syme
.
“
I
have
often
wondered
,
”
said
the
Marquis
,
taking
a
great
bite
out
of
a
slice
of
bread
and
jam
,
“
whether
it
wouldn’t
be
better
for
me
to
do
it
with
a
knife
.
Most
of
the
best
things
have
been
brought
off
with
a
knife
.
And
it
would
be
a
new
emotion
to
get
a
knife
into
a
French
President
and
wriggle
it
round
.
”
“
You
are
wrong
,
”
said
the
Secretary
,
drawing
his
black
brows
together
.
“
The
knife
was
merely
the
expression
of
the
old
personal
quarrel
with
a
personal
tyrant
.
Dynamite
is
not
only
our
best
tool
,
but
our
best
symbol
.
It
is
as
perfect
a
symbol
of
us
as
is
incense
of
the
prayers
of
the
Christians
.
It
expands
;
it
only
destroys
because
it
broadens
;
even
so
,
thought
only
destroys
because
it
broadens
.
A
man’s
brain
is
a
bomb
,
”
he
cried
out
,
loosening
suddenly
his
strange
passion
and
striking
his
own
skull
with
violence
.
“
My
brain
feels
like
a
bomb
,
night
and
day
.
It
must
expand
!
It
must
expand
!
A
man’s
brain
must
expand
,
if
it
breaks
up
the
universe
.
”
“
I
don’t
want
the
universe
broken
up
just
yet
,
”
drawled
the
Marquis
.
“
I
want
to
do
a
lot
of
beastly
things
before
I
die
.
I
thought
of
one
yesterday
in
bed
.
”
“
No
,
if
the
only
end
of
the
thing
is
nothing
,
”
said
Dr.
Bull
with
his
sphinx-like
smile
,
“
it
hardly
seems
worth
doing
.
”
The
old
Professor
was
staring
at
the
ceiling
with
dull
eyes
.
“
Every
man
knows
in
his
heart
,
”
he
said
,
“
that
nothing
is
worth
doing
.
”
There
was
a
singular
silence
,
and
then
the
Secretary
said
—
“
We
are
wandering
,
however
,
from
the
point
.
The
only
question
is
how
Wednesday
is
to
strike
the
blow
.
I
take
it
we
should
all
agree
with
the
original
notion
of
a
bomb
.
As
to
the
actual
arrangements
,
I
should
suggest
that
to­morrow
morning
he
should
go
first
of
all
to
—
”
The
speech
was
broken
off
short
under
a
vast
shadow
.
President
Sunday
had
risen
to
his
feet
,
seeming
to
fill
the
sky
above
them
.
“
Before
we
discuss
that
,
”
he
said
in
a
small
,
quiet
voice
,
“
let
us
go
into
a
private
room
.
I
have
something
vent
particular
to
say
.
”
Syme
stood
up
before
any
of
the
others
.
The
instant
of
choice
had
come
at
last
,
the
pistol
was
at
his
head
.
On
the
pavement
before
he
could
hear
the
policeman
idly
stir
and
stamp
,
for
the
morning
,
though
bright
,
was
cold
.
A
barrel‑organ
in
the
street
suddenly
sprang
with
a
jerk
into
a
jovial
tune
.
Syme
stood
up
taut
,
as
if
it
had
been
a
bugle
before
the
battle
.
He
found
himself
filled
with
a
supernatural
courage
that
came
from
nowhere
.
That
jingling
music
seemed
full
of
the
vivacity
,
the
vulgarity
,
and
the
irrational
valour
of
the
poor
,
who
in
all
those
unclean
streets
were
all
clinging
to
the
decencies
and
the
charities
of
Christendom
.
His
youthful
prank
of
being
a
policeman
had
faded
from
his
mind
;
he
did
not
think
of
himself
as
the
representative
of
the
corps
of
gentlemen
turned
into
fancy
constables
,
or
of
the
old
eccentric
who
lived
in
the
dark
room
.
But
he
did
feel
himself
as
the
ambassador
of
all
these
common
and
kindly
people
in
the
street
,
who
every
day
marched
into
battle
to
the
music
of
the
barrel-organ
.
And
this
high
pride
in
being
human
had
lifted
him
unaccountably
to
an
infinite
height
above
the
monstrous
men
around
him
.
For
an
instant
,
at
least
,
he
looked
down
upon
all
their
sprawling
eccentricities
from
the
starry
pinnacle
of
the
commonplace
.
He
felt
towards
them
all
that
unconscious
and
elementary
superiority
that
a
brave
man
feels
over
powerful
beasts
or
a
wise
man
over
powerful
errors
.
He
knew
that
he
had
neither
the
intellectual
nor
the
physical
strength
of
President
Sunday
;
but
in
that
moment
he
minded
it
no
more
than
the
fact
that
he
had
not
the
muscles
of
a
tiger
or
a
horn
on
his
nose
like
a
rhinoceros
.
All
was
swallowed
up
in
an
ultimate
certainty
that
the
President
was
wrong
and
that
the
barrel‑organ
was
right
.
There
clanged
in
his
mind
that
unanswerable
and
terrible
truism
in
the
song
of
Roland
—
“
Païens
ont
tort
et
Chrétiens
ont
droit
.
”
which
in
the
old
nasal
French
has
the
clang
and
groan
of
great
iron
.
This
liberation
of
his
spirit
from
the
load
of
his
weakness
went
with
a
quite
clear
decision
to
embrace
death
.
If
the
people
of
the
barrel‑organ
could
keep
their
old‑world
obligations
,
so
could
he
.
This
very
pride
in
keeping
his
word
was
that
he
was
keeping
it
to
miscreants
.
It
was
his
last
triumph
over
these
lunatics
to
go
down
into
their
dark
room
and
die
for
something
that
they
could
not
even
understand
.
The
barrel‑organ
seemed
to
give
the
marching
tune
with
the
energy
and
the
mingled
noises
of
a
whole
orchestra
;
and
he
could
hear
deep
and
rolling
,
under
all
the
trumpets
of
the
pride
of
life
,
the
drums
of
the
pride
of
death
.
The
conspirators
were
already
filing
through
the
open
window
and
into
the
rooms
behind
.
Syme
went
last
,
outwardly
calm
,
but
with
all
his
brain
and
body
throbbing
with
romantic
rhythm
.
The
President
led
them
down
an
irregular
side
stair
,
such
as
might
be
used
by
servants
,
and
into
a
dim
,
cold
,
empty
room
,
with
a
table
and
benches
,
like
an
abandoned
boardroom
.
When
they
were
all
in
,
he
closed
and
locked
the
door
.
The
first
to
speak
was
Gogol
,
the
irreconcilable
,
who
seemed
bursting
with
inarticulate
grievance
.
“
Zso
!
Zso
!
”
he
cried
,
with
an
obscure
excitement
,
his
heavy
Polish
accent
becoming
almost
impenetrable
.
“
You
zay
you
nod
‘ide
.
You
zay
you
show
himselves
.
It
is
all
nuzzinks
.
Ven
you
vant
talk
importance
you
run
yourselves
in
a
dark
box
!
”
The
President
seemed
to
take
the
foreigner’s
in­coherent
satire
with
entire
good
humour
.
“
You
can’t
get
hold
of
it
yet
,
Gogol
,
”
he
said
in
a
fatherly
way
.
“
When
once
they
have
heard
us
talking
nonsense
on
that
balcony
they
will
not
care
where
we
go
afterwards
.
If
we
had
come
here
first
,
we
should
have
had
the
whole
staff
at
the
keyhole
.
You
don’t
seem
to
know
anything
about
mankind
.
”
“
I
die
for
zem
,
”
cried
the
Pole
in
thick
excitement
,
“
and
I
slay
zare
oppressors
.
I
care
not
for
these
games
of
gonzealment
.
I
would
zmite
ze
tyrant
in
ze
open
square
.
”
“
I
see
,
I
see
,
”
said
the
President
,
nodding
kindly
as
he
seated
himself
at
the
top
of
a
long
table
.
“
You
die
for
mankind
first
,
and
then
you
get
up
and
smite
their
oppressors
.
So
that’s
all
right
.
And
now
may
I
ask
you
to
control
your
beautiful
sentiments
,
and
sit
down
with
the
other
gentlemen
at
this
table
.
For
the
first
time
this
morning
something
intelligent
is
going
to
be
said
.
”
Syme
,
with
the
perturbed
promptitude
he
had
shown
since
the
original
summons
,
sat
down
first
.
Gogol
sat
down
last
,
grumbling
in
his
brown
beard
about
gombromise
.
No
one
except
Syme
seemed
to
have
any
notion
of
the
blow
that
was
about
to
fall
.
As
for
him
,
he
had
merely
the
feeling
of
a
man
mounting
the
scaffold
with
the
intention
,
at
any
rate
,
of
making
a
good
speech
.
“
Comrades
,
”
said
the
President
,
suddenly
rising
,
“
we
have
spun
out
this
farce
long
enough
.
I
have
called
you
down
here
to
tell
you
something
so
simple
and
shocking
that
even
the
waiters
upstairs
(
long
inured
to
our
levities
)
might
hear
some
new
seriousness
in
my
voice
.
Comrades
,
we
were
discussing
plans
and
naming
places
.
I
propose
,
before
saying
anything
else
,
that
those
plans
and
places
should
not
be
voted
by
this
meeting
,
but
should
be
left
wholly
in
the
control
of
some
one
reliable
member
.
I
suggest
Comrade
Saturday
,
Dr.
Bull
.
”
They
all
stared
at
him
;
then
they
all
started
in
their
seats
,
for
the
next
words
,
though
not
loud
,
had
a
living
and
sensational
emphasis
.
Sunday
struck
the
table
.
“
Not
one
word
more
about
the
plans
and
places
must
be
said
at
this
meeting
.
Not
one
tiny
detail
more
about
what
we
mean
to
do
must
be
mentioned
in
this
company
.
”
Sunday
had
spent
his
life
in
astonishing
his
followers
;
but
it
seemed
as
if
he
had
never
really
astonished
them
until
now
.
They
all
moved
feverishly
in
their
seats
,
except
Syme
.
He
sat
stiff
in
his
,
with
his
hand
in
his
pocket
,
and
on
the
handle
of
his
loaded
revolver
.
When
the
attack
on
him
came
he
would
sell
his
life
dear
.
He
would
find
out
at
least
if
the
President
was
mortal
.
Sunday
went
on
smoothly
—
“
You
will
probably
understand
that
there
is
only
one
possible
motive
for
forbidding
free
speech
at
this
festival
of
freedom
.
Strangers
overhearing
us
matters
nothing
.
They
assume
that
we
are
joking
.
But
what
would
matter
,
even
unto
death
,
is
this
,
that
there
should
be
one
actually
among
us
who
is
not
of
us
,
who
knows
our
grave
purpose
,
but
does
not
share
it
,
who
—
”
The
Secretary
screamed
out
suddenly
like
a
woman
.
“
It
can’t
be
!
”
he
cried
,
leaping
.
“
There
can’t
—
”
The
President
flapped
his
large
flat
hand
on
the
table
like
the
fin
of
some
huge
fish
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
slowly
,
“
there
is
a
spy
in
this
room
.
There
is
a
traitor
at
this
table
.
I
will
waste
no
more
words
.
His
name
—
”
Syme
half
rose
from
his
seat
,
his
finger
firm
on
the
trigger
.
“
His
name
is
Gogol
,
”
said
the
President
.
“
He
is
that
hairy
humbug
over
there
who
pretends
to
be
a
Pole
.
”
Gogol
sprang
to
his
feet
,
a
pistol
in
each
hand
.
With
the
same
flash
three
men
sprang
at
his
throat
.
Even
the
Professor
made
an
effort
to
rise
.
But
Syme
saw
little
of
the
scene
,
for
he
was
blinded
with
a
beneficent
darkness
;
he
had
sunk
down
into
his
seat
shuddering
,
in
a
palsy
of
passionate
relief
.
CHAPTER
VII
THE
UNACCOUNTABLE
CONDUCT
OF
PROFESSOR
DE
WORMS
“
SIT
down
!
”
said
Sunday
in
a
voice
that
he
used
once
or
twice
in
his
life
,
a
voice
that
made
men
drop
drawn
swords
.
The
three
who
had
risen
fell
away
from
Gogol
,
and
that
equivocal
person
himself
resumed
his
seat
.
“
Well
,
my
man
,
”
said
the
President
briskly
,
addressing
him
as
one
addresses
a
total
stranger
,
“
will
you
oblige
me
by
putting
your
hand
in
your
upper
waistcoat
pocket
and
showing
me
what
you
have
there
?
”
The
alleged
Pole
was
a
little
pale
under
his
tangle
of
dark
hair
,
but
he
put
two
fingers
into
the
pocket
with
apparent
coolness
and
pulled
out
a
blue
strip
of
card
.
When
Syme
saw
it
lying
on
the
table
,
he
woke
up
again
to
the
world
outside
him
.
For
although
the
card
lay
at
the
other
extreme
of
the
table
,
and
he
could
read
nothing
of
the
inscription
on
it
,
it
bore
a
startling
resemblance
to
the
blue
card
in
his
own
pocket
,
the
card
which
had
been
given
to
him
when
he
joined
the
anti‑anarchist
constabulary
.
“
Pathetic
Slav
,
”
said
the
President
,
“
tragic
child
of
Poland
,
are
you
prepared
in
the
presence
of
that
card
to
deny
that
you
are
in
this
company
—
shall
we
say
de
trop
?
”
“
Right
oh
!
”
said
the
late
Gogol
.
It
made
everyone
jump
to
hear
a
clear
,
commercial
and
somewhat
cockney
voice
coming
out
of
that
forest
of
foreign
hair
.
It
was
irrational
,
as
if
a
Chinaman
had
suddenly
spoken
with
a
Scotch
accent
.
“
I
gather
that
you
fully
understand
your
position
,
”
said
Sunday
.
“
You
bet
,
”
answered
the
Pole
.
“
I
see
it’s
a
fair
cop
.
All
I
say
is
,
I
don’t
believe
any
Pole
could
have
imitated
my
accent
like
I
did
his
.
”
“
I
concede
the
point
,
”
said
Sunday
.
“
I
believe
your
own
accent
to
be
inimitable
,
though
I
shall
practise
it
in
my
bath
.
Do
you
mind
leaving
your
beard
with
your
card
?
”
“
Not
a
bit
,
”
answered
Gogol
;
and
with
one
finger
he
ripped
off
the
whole
of
his
shaggy
head‑covering
,
emerging
with
thin
red
hair
and
a
pale
,
pert
face
.
“
It
was
hot
,
”
he
added
.
“
I
will
do
you
the
justice
to
say
,
”
said
Sunday
,
not
without
a
sort
of
brutal
admiration
,
“
that
you
seem
to
have
kept
pretty
cool
under
it
.
Now
listen
to
me
.
I
like
you
.
The
consequence
is
that
it
would
annoy
me
for
just
about
two
and
a
half
minutes
if
I
heard
that
you
had
died
in
torments
.
Well
,
if
you
ever
tell
the
police
or
any
human
soul
about
us
,
I
shall
have
that
two
and
a
half
minutes
of
discomfort
.
On
your
discomfort
I
will
not
dwell
.
Good
day
.
Mind
the
step
.
”
The
red‑haired
detective
who
had
masqueraded
as
Gogol
rose
to
his
feet
without
a
word
,
and
walked
out
of
the
room
with
an
air
of
perfect
nonchalance
.
Yet
the
astonished
Syme
was
able
to
realise
that
this
ease
was
suddenly
assumed
;
for
there
was
a
slight
stumble
outside
the
door
,
which
showed
that
the
departing
detective
had
not
minded
the
step
.
“
Time
is
flying
,
”
said
the
President
in
his
gayest
manner
,
after
glancing
at
his
watch
,
which
like
everything
about
him
seemed
bigger
than
it
ought
to
be
.
“
I
must
go
off
at
once
;
I
have
to
take
the
chair
at
a
Humanitarian
meeting
.
”
The
Secretary
turned
to
him
with
working
eyebrows
.
“
Would
it
not
be
better
,
”
he
said
a
little
sharply
,
“
to
discuss
further
the
details
of
our
project
,
now
that
the
spy
has
left
us
?
”
“
No
,
I
think
not
,
”
said
the
President
with
a
yawn
like
an
unobtrusive
earthquake
.
“
Leave
it
as
it
is
.
Let
Saturday
settle
it
.
I
must
be
off
.
Breakfast
here
next
Sunday
.
”
But
the
late
loud
scenes
had
whipped
up
the
almost
naked
nerves
of
the
Secretary
.
He
was
one
of
those
men
who
are
conscientious
even
in
crime
.
“
I
must
protest
,
President
,
that
the
thing
is
irregular
,
”
he
said
.
“
It
is
a
fundamental
rule
of
our
society
that
all
plans
shall
be
debated
in
full
council
.
Of
course
,
I
fully
appreciate
your
forethought
when
in
the
actual
presence
of
a
traitor
—
”
“
Secretary
,
”
said
the
President
seriously
,
“
if
you’d
take
your
head
home
and
boil
it
for
a
turnip
it
might
be
useful
.
I
can’t
say
.
But
it
might
.
The
Secretary
reared
back
in
a
kind
of
equine
anger
.
“
I
really
fail
to
understand
—
”
he
began
in
high
offense
.
“
That’s
it
,
that’s
it
,
”
said
the
President
,
nodding
a
great
many
times
.
“
That’s
where
you
fail
right
enough
.
You
fail
to
understand
.
Why
,
you
dancing
donkey
,
”
he
roared
,
rising
,
“
you
didn’t
want
to
be
overheard
by
a
spy
,
didn’t
you
?
How
do
you
know
you
aren’t
overheard
now
?
”
And
with
these
words
he
shouldered
his
way
out
of
the
room
,
shaking
with
incomprehensible
scorn
.
Four
of
the
men
left
behind
gaped
after
him
without
any
apparent
glimmering
of
his
meaning
.
Syme
alone
had
even
a
glimmering
,
and
such
as
it
was
it
froze
him
to
the
bone
.
If
the
last
words
of
the
President
meant
anything
,
they
meant
that
he
had
not
after
all
passed
unsuspected
.
They
meant
that
while
Sunday
could
not
denounce
him
like
Gogol
,
he
still
could
not
trust
him
like
the
others
.
The
other
four
got
to
their
feet
grumbling
more
or
less
,
and
betook
themselves
elsewhere
to
find
lunch
,
for
it
was
already
well
past
midday
.
The
Professor
went
last
,
very
slowly
and
painfully
.
Syme
sat
long
after
the
rest
had
gone
,
revolving
his
strange
position
.
He
had
escaped
a
thunderbolt
,
but
he
was
still
under
a
cloud
.
At
last
he
rose
and
made
his
way
out
of
the
hotel
into
Leicester
Square
.
The
bright
,
cold
day
had
grown
increasingly
colder
,
and
when
he
came
out
into
the
street
he
was
surprised
by
a
few
flakes
of
snow
.
While
he
still
carried
the
sword‑stick
and
the
rest
of
Gregory’s
portable
luggage
,
he
had
thrown
the
cloak
down
and
left
it
somewhere
,
perhaps
on
the
steam‑tug
,
perhaps
on
the
balcony
.
Hoping
,
therefore
,
that
the
snow‑shower
might
be
slight
,
he
stepped
back
out
of
the
street
for
a
moment
and
stood
up
under
the
doorway
of
a
small
and
greasy
hair‑dresser’s
shop
,
the
front
window
of
which
was
empty
,
except
for
a
sickly
wax
lady
in
evening
dress
.
Snow
,
however
,
began
to
thicken
and
fall
fast
;
and
Syme
,
having
found
one
glance
at
the
wax
lady
quite
sufficient
to
depress
his
spirits
,
stared
out
instead
into
the
white
and
empty
street
.
He
was
considerably
astonished
to
see
,
standing
quite
still
outside
the
shop
and
staring
into
the
window
,
a
man
.
His
top
hat
was
loaded
with
snow
like
the
hat
of
Father
Christmas
,
the
white
drift
was
rising
round
his
boots
and
ankles
;
but
it
seemed
as
if
nothing
could
tear
him
away
from
the
contemplation
of
the
colourless
wax
doll
in
dirty
evening
dress
.
That
any
human
being
should
stand
in
such
weather
looking
into
such
a
shop
was
a
matter
of
sufficient
wonder
to
Syme
;
but
his
idle
wonder
turned
suddenly
into
a
personal
shock
;
for
he
realised
that
the
man
standing
there
was
the
paralytic
old
Professor
de
Worms
.
It
scarcely
seemed
the
place
for
a
person
of
his
years
and
infirmities
.
Syme
was
ready
to
believe
anything
about
the
perversions
of
this
dehumanized
brotherhood
;
but
even
he
could
not
believe
that
the
Professor
had
fallen
in
love
with
that
particular
wax
lady
.
He
could
only
suppose
that
the
man’s
malady
(
whatever
it
was
)
involved
some
momentary
fits
of
rigidity
or
trance
.
He
was
not
inclined
,
however
,
to
feel
in
this
case
any
very
compassionate
concern
.
On
the
contrary
,
he
rather
congratulated
himself
that
the
Professor’s
stroke
and
his
elaborate
and
limping
walk
would
make
it
easy
to
escape
from
him
and
leave
him
miles
behind
.
For
Syme
thirsted
first
and
last
to
get
clear
of
the
whole
poisonous
atmosphere
,
if
only
for
an
hour
.
Then
he
could
collect
his
thoughts
,
formulate
his
policy
,
and
decide
finally
whether
he
should
or
should
not
keep
faith
with
Gregory
.
He
strolled
away
through
the
dancing
snow
,
turned
up
two
or
three
streets
,
down
through
two
or
three
others
,
and
entered
a
small
Soho
restaurant
for
lunch
.
He
partook
reflectively
of
four
small
and
quaint
courses
,
drank
half
a
bottle
of
red
wine
,
and
ended
up
over
black
coffee
and
a
black
cigar
,
still
thinking
.
He
had
taken
his
seat
in
the
upper
room
of
the
restaurant
,
which
was
full
of
the
chink
of
knives
and
the
chatter
of
foreigners
.
He
remembered
that
in
old
days
he
had
imagined
that
all
these
harmless
and
kindly
aliens
were
anarchists
.
He
shuddered
,
remembering
the
real
thing
.
But
even
the
shudder
had
the
delightful
shame
of
escape
.
The
wine
,
the
common
food
,
the
familiar
place
,
the
faces
of
natural
and
talkative
men
,
made
him
almost
feel
as
if
the
Council
of
the
Seven
Days
had
been
a
bad
dream
;
and
although
he
knew
it
was
nevertheless
an
objective
reality
,
it
was
at
least
a
distant
one
.
Tall
houses
and
populous
streets
lay
between
him
and
his
last
sight
of
the
shameful
seven
;
he
was
free
in
free
London
,
and
drinking
wine
among
the
free
.
With
a
somewhat
easier
action
,
he
took
his
hat
and
stick
and
strolled
down
the
stair
into
the
shop
below
.
When
he
entered
that
lower
room
he
stood
stricken
and
rooted
to
the
spot
.
At
a
small
table
,
close
up
to
the
blank
window
and
the
white
street
of
snow
,
sat
the
old
anarchist
Professor
over
a
glass
of
milk
,
with
his
lifted
livid
face
and
pendent
eyelids
.
For
an
instant
Syme
stood
as
rigid
as
the
stick
he
leant
upon
.
Then
with
a
gesture
as
of
blind
hurry
,
he
brushed
past
the
Professor
,
dashing
open
the
door
and
slamming
it
behind
him
,
and
stood
outside
in
the
snow
.
“
Can
that
old
corpse
be
following
me
?
”
he
asked
himself
,
biting
his
yellow
moustache
.
“
I
stopped
too
long
up
in
that
room
,
so
that
even
such
leaden
feet
could
catch
me
up
.
One
comfort
is
,
with
a
little
brisk
walking
I
can
put
a
man
like
that
as
far
away
as
Timbuctoo
.
Or
am
I
too
fanciful
?
Was
he
really
following
me
?
Surely
Sunday
would
not
be
such
a
fool
as
to
send
a
lame
man
?
”
He
set
off
at
a
smart
pace
,
twisting
and
whirling
his
stick
,
in
the
direction
of
Covent
Garden
.
As
he
crossed
the
great
market
the
snow
increased
,
growing
blinding
and
bewildering
as
the
afternoon
began
to
darken
.
The
snow‑flakes
tormented
him
like
a
swarm
of
silver
bees
.
Getting
into
his
eyes
and
beard
,
they
added
their
unremitting
futility
to
his
already
irritated
nerves
;
and
by
the
time
that
he
had
come
at
a
swinging
pace
to
the
beginning
of
Fleet
Street
,
he
lost
patience
,
and
finding
a
Sunday
teashop
,
turned
into
it
to
take
shelter
.
He
ordered
another
cup
of
black
coffee
as
an
excuse
.
Scarcely
had
he
done
so
,
when
Professor
de
Worms
hobbled
heavily
into
the
shop
,
sat
down
with
difficulty
and
ordered
a
glass
of
milk
.
Syme’s
walking‑stick
had
fallen
from
his
hand
with
a
great
clang
,
which
confessed
the
concealed
steel
.
But
the
Professor
did
not
look
round
.
Syme
,
who
was
commonly
a
cool
character
,
was
literally
gaping
as
a
rustic
gapes
at
a
conjuring
trick
.
He
had
seen
no
cab
following
;
he
had
heard
no
wheels
outside
the
shop
;
to
all
mortal
appearances
the
man
had
come
on
foot
.
But
the
old
man
could
only
walk
like
a
snail
,
and
Syme
had
walked
like
the
wind
.
He
started
up
and
snatched
his
stick
,
half
crazy
with
the
contradiction
in
mere
arithmetic
,
and
swung
out
of
the
swinging
doors
,
leaving
his
coffee
untasted
.
An
omnibus
going
to
the
Bank
went
rattling
by
with
an
unusual
rapidity
.
He
had
a
violent
run
of
a
hundred
yards
to
reach
it
;
but
he
managed
to
spring
,
swaying
upon
the
splash‑board
and
,
pausing
for
an
instant
to
pant
,
he
climbed
on
to
the
top
.
When
he
had
been
seated
for
about
half
a
minute
,
he
heard
behind
him
a
sort
of
heavy
and
asthmatic
breathing
.
Turning
sharply
,
he
saw
rising
gradually
higher
and
higher
up
the
omnibus
steps
a
top
hat
soiled
and
dripping
with
snow
,
and
under
the
shadow
of
its
brim
the
short‑sighted
face
and
shaky
shoulders
of
Professor
de
Worms
.
He
let
himself
into
a
seat
with
characteristic
care
,
and
wrapped
himself
up
to
the
chin
in
the
mackintosh
rug
.
Every
movement
of
the
old
man’s
tottering
figure
and
vague
hands
,
every
uncertain
gesture
and
panic‑stricken
pause
,
seemed
to
put
it
beyond
question
that
he
was
helpless
,
that
he
was
in
the
last
imbecility
of
the
body
.
He
moved
by
inches
,
he
let
himself
down
with
little
gasps
of
caution
.
And
yet
,
unless
the
philosophical
entities
called
time
and
space
have
no
vestige
even
of
a
practical
existence
,
it
appeared
quite
unquestionable
that
he
had
run
after
the
omnibus
.
Syme
sprang
erect
upon
the
rocking
car
,
and
after
staring
wildly
at
the
wintry
sky
,
that
grew
gloomier
every
moment
,
he
ran
down
the
steps
.
He
had
repressed
an
elemental
impulse
to
leap
over
the
side
.
Too
bewildered
to
look
back
or
to
reason
,
he
rushed
into
one
of
the
little
courts
at
the
side
of
Fleet
Street
as
a
rabbit
rushes
into
a
hole
.
He
had
a
vague
idea
,
if
this
incomprehensible
old
Jack‑in‑the‑box
was
really
pursuing
him
,
that
in
that
labyrinth
of
little
streets
he
could
soon
throw
him
off
the
scent
.
He
dived
in
and
out
of
those
crooked
lanes
,
which
were
more
like
cracks
than
thoroughfares
;
and
by
the
time
that
he
had
completed
about
twenty
alternate
angles
and
described
an
unthinkable
polygon
,
he
paused
to
listen
for
any
sound
of
pursuit
.
There
was
none
;
there
could
not
in
any
case
have
been
much
,
for
the
little
streets
were
thick
with
the
soundless
snow
.
Somewhere
behind
Red
Lion
Court
,
however
,
he
noticed
a
place
where
some
energetic
citizen
had
cleared
away
the
snow
for
a
space
of
about
twenty
yards
,
leaving
the
wet
,
glistening
cobble‑stones
.
He
thought
little
of
this
as
he
passed
it
,
only
plunging
into
yet
another
arm
of
the
maze
.
But
when
a
few
hundred
yards
farther
on
he
stood
still
again
to
listen
,
his
heart
stood
still
also
,
for
he
heard
from
that
space
of
rugged
stones
the
clinking
crutch
and
labouring
feet
of
the
infernal
cripple
.
The
sky
above
was
loaded
with
the
clouds
of
snow
,
leaving
London
in
a
darkness
and
oppression
premature
for
that
hour
of
the
evening
.
On
each
side
of
Syme
the
walls
of
the
alley
were
blind
and
featureless
;
there
was
no
little
window
or
any
kind
of
eve
.
He
felt
a
new
impulse
to
break
out
of
this
hive
of
houses
,
and
to
get
once
more
into
the
open
and
lamp-lit
street
.
Yet
he
rambled
and
dodged
for
a
long
time
before
he
struck
the
main
thoroughfare
.
When
he
did
so
,
he
struck
it
much
farther
up
than
he
had
fancied
.
He
came
out
into
what
seemed
the
vast
and
void
of
Ludgate
Circus
,
and
saw
St.
Paul’s
Cathedral
sitting
in
the
sky
.
At
first
he
was
startled
to
find
these
great
roads
so
empty
,
as
if
a
pestilence
had
swept
through
the
city
.
Then
he
told
himself
that
some
degree
of
emptiness
was
natural
;
first
because
the
snow‑storm
was
even
dangerously
deep
,
and
secondly
because
it
was
Sunday
.
And
at
the
very
word
Sunday
he
bit
his
lip
;
the
word
was
henceforth
for
hire
like
some
indecent
pun
.
Under
the
white
fog
of
snow
high
up
in
the
heaven
the
whole
atmosphere
of
the
city
was
turned
to
a
very
queer
kind
of
green
twilight
,
as
of
men
under
the
sea
.
The
sealed
and
sullen
sunset
behind
the
dark
dome
of
St.
Paul’s
had
in
it
smoky
and
sinister
colours
—
colours
of
sickly
green
,
dead
red
or
decaying
bronze
,
that
were
just
bright
enough
to
emphasise
the
solid
whiteness
of
the
snow
.
But
right
up
against
these
dreary
colours
rose
the
black
bulk
of
the
cathedral
;
and
upon
the
top
of
the
cathedral
was
a
random
splash
and
great
stain
of
snow
,
still
clinging
as
to
an
Alpine
peak
.
It
had
fallen
accidentally
,
but
just
so
fallen
as
to
half
drape
the
dome
from
its
very
topmost
point
,
and
to
pick
out
in
perfect
silver
the
great
orb
and
the
cross
.
When
Syme
saw
it
he
suddenly
straightened
himself
,
and
made
with
his
sword‑stick
an
involuntary
salute
.
He
knew
that
that
evil
figure
,
his
shadow
,
was
creeping
quickly
or
slowly
behind
him
,
and
he
did
not
care
.
It
seemed
a
symbol
of
human
faith
and
valour
that
while
the
skies
were
darkening
that
high
place
of
the
earth
was
bright
.
The
devils
might
have
captured
heaven
,
but
they
had
not
yet
captured
the
cross
.
He
had
a
new
impulse
to
tear
out
the
secret
of
this
dancing
,
jumping
and
pursuing
paralytic
;
and
at
the
entrance
of
the
court
as
it
opened
upon
the
Circus
he
turned
,
stick
in
hand
,
to
face
his
pursuer
.
Professor
de
Worms
came
slowly
round
the
corner
of
the
irregular
alley
behind
him
,
his
unnatural
form
outlined
against
a
lonely
gas‑lamp
,
irresistibly
recalling
that
very
imaginative
figure
in
the
nursery
rhymes
,
“
the
crooked
man
who
went
a
crooked
mile
.
”
He
really
looked
as
if
he
had
been
twisted
out
of
shape
by
the
tortuous
streets
he
had
been
threading
.
He
came
nearer
and
nearer
,
the
lamplight
shining
on
his
lifted
spectacles
,
his
lifted
,
patient
face
.
Syme
waited
for
him
as
St.
George
waited
for
the
dragon
,
as
a
man
waits
for
a
final
explanation
or
for
death
.
And
the
old
Professor
came
right
up
to
him
and
passed
him
like
a
total
stranger
,
without
even
a
blink
of
his
mournful
eyelids
.
There
was
something
in
this
silent
and
unexpected
innocence
that
left
Syme
in
a
final
fury
.
The
man’s
colourless
face
and
manner
seemed
to
assert
that
the
whole
following
had
been
an
accident
.
Syme
was
galvanised
with
an
energy
that
was
something
between
bitterness
and
a
burst
of
boyish
derision
.
He
made
a
wild
gesture
as
if
to
knock
the
old
man’s
hat
off
,
called
out
something
like
“
Catch
me
if
you
can
,
”
and
went
racing
away
across
the
white
,
open
Circus
.
Concealment
was
impossible
now
;
and
looking
back
over
his
shoulder
,
he
could
see
the
black
figure
of
the
old
gentleman
coming
after
him
with
long
,
swinging
strides
like
a
man
winning
a
mile
race
.
But
the
head
upon
that
bounding
body
was
still
pale
,
grave
and
professional
,
like
the
head
of
a
lecturer
upon
the
body
of
a
harlequin
.
This
outrageous
chase
sped
across
Ludgate
Circus
,
up
Ludgate
Hill
,
round
St.
Paul’s
Cathedral
,
along
Cheapside
,
Syme
remembering
all
the
nightmares
he
had
ever
known
.
Then
Syme
broke
away
towards
the
river
,
and
ended
almost
down
by
the
docks
.
He
saw
the
yellow
panes
of
a
low
,
lighted
public‑house
,
flung
himself
into
it
and
ordered
beer
.
It
was
a
foul
tavern
,
sprinkled
with
foreign
sailors
,
a
place
where
opium
might
be
smoked
or
knives
drawn
.
A
moment
later
Professor
de
Worms
entered
the
place
,
sat
down
carefully
,
and
asked
for
a
glass
of
milk
.
CHAPTER
VIII
THE
PROFESSOR
EXPLAINS
WHEN
Gabriel
Syme
found
himself
finally
established
in
a
chair
,
and
opposite
to
him
,
fixed
and
final
also
,
the
lifted
eyebrows
and
leaden
eyelids
of
the
Professor
,
his
fears
fully
returned
.
This
incomprehensible
man
from
the
fierce
council
,
after
all
,
had
certainly
pursued
him
.
If
the
man
had
one
character
as
a
paralytic
and
another
character
as
a
pursuer
,
the
antithesis
might
make
him
more
interesting
,
but
scarcely
more
soothing
.
It
would
be
a
very
small
comfort
that
he
could
not
find
the
Professor
out
,
if
by
some
serious
accident
the
Professor
should
find
him
out
.
He
emptied
a
whole
pewter
pot
of
ale
before
the
professor
had
touched
his
milk
.
One
possibility
,
however
,
kept
him
hopeful
and
yet
helpless
.
It
was
just
possible
that
this
escapade
signified
something
other
than
even
a
slight
suspicion
of
him
.
Perhaps
it
was
some
regular
form
or
sign
.
Perhaps
the
foolish
scamper
was
some
sort
of
friendly
signal
that
he
ought
to
have
understood
.
Perhaps
it
was
a
ritual
.
Perhaps
the
new
Thursday
was
always
chased
along
Cheapside
,
as
the
new
Lord
Mayor
is
always
escorted
along
it
.
He
was
just
selecting
a
tentative
inquiry
,
when
the
old
Professor
opposite
suddenly
and
simply
cut
him
short
.
Before
Syme
could
ask
the
first
diplomatic
question
,
the
old
anarchist
had
asked
suddenly
,
without
any
sort
of
preparation
—
“
Are
you
a
policeman
?
”
Whatever
else
Syme
had
expected
,
he
had
never
expected
anything
so
brutal
and
actual
as
this
.
Even
his
great
presence
of
mind
could
only
manage
a
reply
with
an
air
of
rather
blundering
jocularity
.
“
A
policeman
?
”
he
said
,
laughing
vaguely
.
“
Whatever
made
you
think
of
a
policeman
in
connection
with
me
?
”
“
The
process
was
simple
enough
,
”
answered
the
Professor
patiently
.
“
I
thought
you
looked
like
a
policeman
.
I
think
so
now
.
”
“
Did
I
take
a
policeman’s
hat
by
mistake
out
of
the
restaurant
?
”
asked
Syme
,
smiling
wildly
.
“
Have
I
by
any
chance
got
a
number
stuck
on
to
me
somewhere
?
Have
my
boots
got
that
watchful
look
?
Why
must
I
be
a
policeman
?
Do
,
do
let
me
be
a
postman
.
”
The
old
Professor
shook
his
head
with
a
gravity
that
gave
no
hope
,
but
Syme
ran
on
with
a
feverish
irony
.
“
But
perhaps
I
misunderstood
the
delicacies
of
your
German
philosophy
.
Perhaps
policeman
is
a
relative
term
.
In
an
evolutionary
sense
,
sir
,
the
ape
fades
so
gradually
into
the
policeman
,
that
I
myself
can
never
detect
the
shade
.
The
monkey
is
only
the
policeman
that
may
be
.
Perhaps
a
maiden
lady
on
Clapham
Common
is
only
the
policeman
that
might
have
been
.
I
don’t
mind
being
the
policeman
that
might
have
been
.
I
don’t
mind
being
anything
in
German
thought
.
”
“
Are
you
in
the
police
service
?
”
said
the
old
man
,
ignoring
all
Syme’s
improvised
and
desperate
raillery
.
“
Are
you
a
detective
?
”
Syme’s
heart
turned
to
stone
,
but
his
face
never
changed
.
“
Your
suggestion
is
ridiculous
,
”
he
began
.
“
Why
on
earth
—
”
The
old
man
struck
his
palsied
hand
passionately
on
the
rickety
table
,
nearly
breaking
it
.
“
Did
you
hear
me
ask
a
plain
question
,
you
pattering
spy
?
”
he
shrieked
in
a
high
,
crazy
voice
.
“
Are
you
,
or
are
you
not
,
a
police
detective
?
”
“
No
!
”
answered
Syme
,
like
a
man
standing
on
the
hangman’s
drop
.
“
You
swear
it
,
”
said
the
old
man
,
leaning
across
to
him
,
his
dead
face
becoming
as
it
were
loathsomely
alive
.
“
You
swear
it
!
You
swear
it
!
If
you
swear
falsely
,
will
you
be
damned
?
Will
you
be
sure
that
the
devil
dances
at
your
funeral
?
Will
you
see
that
the
nightmare
sits
on
your
grave
?
Will
there
really
be
no
mistake
?
You
are
an
anarchist
,
you
are
a
dynamiter
!
Above
all
,
you
are
not
in
any
sense
a
detective
?
You
are
not
in
the
British
police
?
”
He
leant
his
angular
elbow
far
across
the
table
,
and
put
up
his
large
loose
hand
like
a
flap
to
his
ear
.
“
I
am
not
in
the
British
police
,
”
said
Syme
with
insane
calm
.
Professor
de
Worms
fell
back
in
his
chair
with
a
curious
air
of
kindly
collapse
.
“
That’s
a
pity
,
”
he
said
,
“
because
I
am
.
”
Syme
sprang
up
straight
,
sending
back
the
bench
behind
him
with
a
crash
.
“
Because
you
are
what
?
”
he
said
thickly
.
“
You
are
what
?
”
“
I
am
a
policeman
,
”
said
the
Professor
with
his
first
broad
smile
.
and
beaming
through
his
spectacles
.
“
But
as
you
think
policeman
only
a
relative
term
,
of
course
I
have
nothing
to
do
with
you
.
I
am
in
the
British
police
force
;
but
as
you
tell
me
you
are
not
in
the
British
police
force
,
I
can
only
say
that
I
met
you
in
a
dynamiters’
club
.
I
suppose
I
ought
to
arrest
you
.
”
And
with
these
words
he
laid
on
the
table
before
Syme
an
exact
facsimile
of
the
blue
card
which
Syme
had
in
his
own
waistcoat
pocket
,
the
symbol
of
his
power
from
the
police
.
Syme
had
for
a
flash
the
sensation
that
the
cosmos
had
turned
exactly
upside
down
,
that
all
trees
were
growing
downwards
and
that
all
stars
were
under
his
feet
.
Then
came
slowly
the
opposite
conviction
.
For
the
last
twenty‑four
hours
the
cosmos
had
really
been
upside
down
,
but
now
the
capsized
universe
had
come
right
side
up
again
.
This
devil
from
whom
he
had
been
fleeing
all
day
was
only
an
elder
brother
of
his
own
house
,
who
on
the
other
side
of
the
table
lay
back
and
laughed
at
him
.
He
did
not
for
the
moment
ask
any
questions
of
detail
;
he
only
knew
the
happy
and
silly
fact
that
this
shadow
,
which
had
pursued
him
with
an
intolerable
oppression
of
peril
,
was
only
the
shadow
of
a
friend
trying
to
catch
him
up
.
He
knew
simultane­ously
that
he
was
a
fool
and
a
free
man
.
For
with
any
recovery
from
morbidity
there
must
go
a
certain
healthy
humiliation
.
There
comes
a
certain
point
in
such
conditions
when
only
three
things
are
possible
:
first
a
perpetuation
of
Satanic
pride
,
secondly
tears
,
and
third
laughter
.
Syme’s
egotism
held
hard
to
the
first
course
for
a
few
seconds
,
and
then
suddenly
adopted
the
third
.
Taking
his
own
blue
police
ticket
from
his
own
waist
coat
pocket
,
he
tossed
it
on
to
the
table
;
then
he
flung
his
head
back
until
his
spike
of
yellow
beard
almost
pointed
at
the
ceiling
,
and
shouted
with
a
barbaric
laughter
.
Even
in
that
close
den
,
perpetually
filled
with
the
din
of
knives
,
plates
,
cans
,
clamorous
voices
,
sudden
struggles
and
stampedes
,
there
was
something
Homeric
in
Syme’s
mirth
which
made
many
half-drunken
men
look
round
.
“
What
yer
laughing
at
,
guv’nor
?
”
asked
one
wondering
labourer
from
the
docks
.
“
At
myself
,
”
answered
Syme
,
and
went
off
again
into
the
agony
of
his
ecstatic
reaction
.
“
Pull
yourself
together
,
”
said
the
Professor
,
“
or
you’ll
get
hysterical
.
Have
some
more
beer
.
I’ll
join
you
.
”
“
You
haven’t
drunk
your
milk
,
”
said
Syme
.
“
My
milk
!
”
said
the
other
,
in
tones
of
withering
and
unfathomable
contempt
,
“
my
milk
!
Do
you
think
I’d
look
at
the
beastly
stuff
when
I’m
out
of
sight
of
the
bloody
anarchists
?
We’re
all
Christians
in
this
room
,
though
perhaps
,
”
he
added
,
glancing
around
at
the
reeling
crowd
,
“
not
strict
ones
.
Finish
my
milk
?
Great
blazes
!
yes
,
I’ll
finish
it
right
enough
!
”
and
he
knocked
the
tumbler
off
the
table
,
making
a
crash
of
glass
and
a
splash
of
silver
fluid
.
Syme
was
staring
at
him
with
a
happy
curiosity
.
“
I
understand
now
,
”
he
cried
;
“
of
course
,
you’re
not
an
old
man
at
all
.
”
“
I
can’t
take
my
face
off
here
,
”
replied
Professor
de
Worms
.
“
It’s
rather
an
elaborate
make‑up
.
As
to
whether
I’m
an
old
man
,
that’s
not
for
me
to
say
.
I
was
thirty‑eight
last
birthday
.
”
“
Yes
,
but
I
mean
,
”
said
Syme
impatiently
,
“
there’s
nothing
the
matter
with
you
.
”
“
Yes
,
”
answered
the
other
dispassionately
.
“
I
am
subject
to
colds
.
”
Syme’s
laughter
at
all
this
had
about
it
a
wild
weakness
of
relief
.
He
laughed
at
the
idea
of
the
paralytic
Professor
being
really
a
young
actor
dressed
up
as
if
for
the
foot‑lights
.
But
he
felt
that
he
would
have
laughed
as
loudly
if
a
pepper­pot
had
fallen
over
.
The
false
Professor
drank
and
wiped
his
false
beard
.
“
Did
you
know
,
”
he
asked
,
“
that
that
man
Gogol
was
one
of
us
?
”
“
I
?
No
,
I
didn’t
know
it
,
”
answered
Syme
in
some
surprise
.
“
But
didn’t
you
?
”
“
I
knew
no
more
than
the
dead
,
”
replied
the
man
who
called
himself
de
Worms
.
“
I
thought
the
President
was
talking
about
me
,
and
I
rattled
in
my
boots
.
”
“
And
I
thought
he
was
talking
about
me
,
”
said
Syme
,
with
his
rather
reckless
laughter
.
“
I
had
my
hand
on
my
revolver
all
the
time
.
”
“
So
had
I
,
”
said
the
Professor
grimly
;
“
so
had
Gogol
evidently
.
”
Syme
struck
the
table
with
an
exclamation
.
“
Why
,
there
were
three
of
us
there
!
”
he
cried
.
“
Three
out
of
seven
is
a
fighting
number
.
If
we
had
only
known
that
we
were
three
!
”
The
face
of
Professor
de
Worms
darkened
,
and
he
did
not
look
up
.
“
We
were
three
,
”
he
said
.
“
If
we
had
been
three
hundred
we
could
still
have
done
nothing
.
”
“
Not
if
we
were
three
hundred
against
four
?
”
asked
Syme
,
jeering
rather
boisterously
.
“
No
,
”
said
the
Professor
with
sobriety
,
“
not
if
we
were
three
hundred
against
Sunday
.
”
And
the
mere
name
struck
Syme
cold
and
serious
;
his
laughter
had
died
in
his
heart
before
it
could
die
on
his
lips
.
The
face
of
the
unforgettable
President
sprang
into
his
mind
as
startling
as
a
coloured
photograph
,
and
he
remarked
this
difference
between
Sunday
and
all
his
satellites
,
that
their
faces
,
however
fierce
or
sinister
,
became
gradually
blurred
by
memory
like
other
human
faces
,
whereas
Sunday’s
seemed
almost
to
grow
more
actual
during
absence
,
as
if
a
man’s
painted
portrait
should
slowly
come
alive
.
They
were
both
silent
for
a
measure
of
moments
,
and
then
Syme’s
speech
came
with
a
rush
,
like
the
sudden
foaming
of
champagne
.
“
Professor
,
”
he
cried
,
“
it
is
intolerable
.
Are
you
afraid
of
this
man
?
”
The
Professor
lifted
his
heavy
lids
,
and
gazed
at
Syme
with
large
,
wide‑open
,
blue
eyes
of
an
almost
ethereal
honesty
.
“
Yes
,
I
am
,
”
he
said
mildly
.
“
So
are
you
.
”
Syme
was
dumb
for
an
instant
.
Then
he
rose
to
his
feet
erect
,
like
an
insulted
man
,
and
thrust
the
chair
away
from
him
.
“
Yes
,
”
he
said
in
a
voice
indescribable
,
“
you
are
right
.
I
am
afraid
of
him
.
Therefore
I
swear
by
God
that
I
will
seek
out
this
man
whom
I
fear
until
I
find
him
,
and
strike
him
on
the
mouth
.
If
heaven
were
his
throne
and
the
earth
his
footstool
,
I
swear
that
I
would
pull
him
down
.
”
“
How
?
”
asked
the
staring
Professor
.
“
Why
?
”
“
Because
I
am
afraid
of
him
,
”
said
Syme
;
“
and
no
man
should
leave
in
the
universe
anything
of
which
he
is
afraid
.
”
De
Worms
blinked
at
him
with
a
sort
of
blind
wonder
.
He
made
an
effort
to
speak
,
but
Syme
went
on
in
a
low
voice
,
but
with
an
undercurrent
of
inhuman
exaltation
—
“
Who
would
condescend
to
strike
down
the
mere
things
that
he
does
not
fear
?
Who
would
debase
himself
to
be
merely
brave
,
like
any
common
prizefighter
?
Who
would
stoop
to
be
fearless
—
like
a
tree
?
Fight
the
thing
that
you
fear
.
You
remember
the
old
tale
of
the
English
clergyman
who
gave
the
last
rites
to
the
brigand
of
Sicily
,
and
how
on
his
death‑bed
the
great
robber
said
,
‘I
can
give
you
no
money
,
but
I
can
give
you
advice
for
a
lifetime
:
your
thumb
on
the
blade
,
and
strike
upwards.’
So
I
say
to
you
,
strike
upwards
,
if
you
strike
at
the
stars
.
”
The
other
looked
at
the
ceiling
,
one
of
the
tricks
of
his
pose
.
“
Sunday
is
a
fixed
star
,
”
he
said
.
“
You
shall
see
him
a
falling
star
,
”
said
Syme
,
and
put
on
his
hat
.
The
decision
of
his
gesture
drew
the
Professor
vaguely
to
his
feet
.
“
Have
you
any
idea
,
”
he
asked
,
with
a
sort
of
benevolent
bewilderment
,
