La om nonvidable

The Invisible Man par Gilbert K. Chesterton

Traduida par Krzysztof S

En la penombra, fria e blu, de du stradas presipe en Camden Town, la boteca a angulo, un boteca de confeto, ia brilia como la fini de un sigar. Posible on debe plu esata dise, como la fini de un pirotecnical, car la lus ia ave multe colores e alga complica, rompeda par multe mirores e saltante sur multe tortas e dulses, dorada e vivosa colorida. Multe xicos de la strada ia coli se nases ante esta fenetra focosa, car tota la xocoladas ia es envolveda en acel colores roja e oro e metal verde, cual es cuasi plu bon ca xocolada mesma; e la torta de sposi, enorme e blanca, en la fenetra ia es en alga modo simultan distante e sasiante, como si la Polo Norde intera ta es bon comeda. Tal provocas, simil a arcos de sielo, ia pote natural colie la jovenes de la visineria asta la eda de des o des-du anios. Ma esta angulo ia es ance atraosa per jovenes plu matur; un om joven, de no min ca dudes-cuatro anios, ia regarda intensa a en la mesma fenetra de boteca. Ance per el, la boteca ia ave un encanta focosa, ma esta atrae ia es no intera esplicable con xocoladas, cual, an tal, el no ia despeta.

In the cool blue twilight of two steep streets in Camden Town, the shop at the corner, a confectioner’s, glowed like the butt of a cigar. One should rather say, perhaps, like the butt of a firework, for the light was of many colours and some complexity, broken up by many mirrors and dancing on many gilt and gaily-coloured cakes and sweetmeats. Against this one fiery glass were glued the noses of many gutter-snipes, for the chocolates were all wrapped in those red and gold and green metallic colours which are almost better than chocolate itself; and the huge white wedding-cake in the window was somehow at once remote and satisfying, just as if the whole North Pole were good to eat. Such rainbow provocations could naturally collect the youth of the neighbourhood up to the ages of ten or twelve. But this corner was also attractive to youth at a later stage; and a young man, not less than twenty-four, was staring into the same shop window. To him, also, the shop was of fiery charm, but this attraction was not wholly to be explained by chocolates; which, however, he was far from despising.

La om joven ia es alta, forte, ia ave capeles roja, un fas desidente ma un manera nonatendente. El ia porta, su se braso, un portafolio plata, gris, plen de desinias blanca e negra; el ia vende ja los plu o min susedosa a editores pos cuando se tio (un amiral) ia deserita ja el par sosialisme, par causa de un leson publica cual la om joven ia dona ja contra acel teoria economial. Se nom ia es John Turnbull Angus.

He was a tall, burly, red-haired young man, with a resolute face but a listless manner. He carried under his arm a flat, grey portfolio of black-and-white sketches, which he had sold with more or less success to publishers ever since his uncle (who was an admiral) had disinherited him for Socialism, because of a lecture which he had delivered against that economic theory. His name was John Turnbull Angus.

Entrante a fini, el ia pasea tra la boteca de confeto a en la camera retro, cual ia es alga restorante de tortor, mera levante la xapo a la seniora joven, ci ia servi ala. La xica ia es oscur, bela, vijilante, vestida en negra, con un color forte de fas, e oios multe rapida e oscur; pos la interval abitual la xica ia segue la om a la camera interna per reseta se comanda.

Entering at last, he walked through the confectioner’s shop to the back room, which was a sort of pastry-cook restaurant, merely raising his hat to the young lady who was serving there. She was a dark, elegant, alert girl in black, with a high colour and very quick, dark eyes; and after the ordinary interval she followed him into the inner room to take his order.

Se comanda ia es evidente comun - “Me desira, per favore,” - la om ia dise con esatia - “un torteta per un penig duida e un taseta de cafe negra.” - E ante cuando la xica ia pote turna se de asi la om ia ajunta - “Ance, me desira ce tu sposi me.”

His order was evidently a usual one. “I want, please,” he said with precision, “one halfpenny bun and a small cup of black coffee.” An instant before the girl could turn away he added, “Also, I want you to marry me.”

La seniora joven de la boteca ia rijidi se subita e ia dise - “Me no permete tal bromas.”

The young lady of the shop stiffened suddenly and said, “Those are jokes I don’t allow.”

La joven de capeles roja ia leva oios gris de un gravia nonespetada.

The red-haired young man lifted grey eyes of an unexpected gravity.

“Vera e vera,” - el ia dise - “lo es seria… tan seria como la torteta per un penig duida. Lo es cara, como la torteta; on paia per lo. Lo es nondijestable como la torteta. Lo dole.”

“Really and truly,” - he said, “it’s as serious—as serious as the halfpenny bun. It is expensive, like the bun; one pays for it. It is indigestible, like the bun. It hurts.”

La seniora joven ia despone nunca se oios negra de la om, ma ia pare studia la om con esatia cuasi trajedial. A la fini de se esamina el ia surie e ia senta se en un seja.

The dark young lady had never taken her dark eyes off him, but seemed to be studying him with almost tragic exactitude. At the end of her scrutiny she had something like the shadow of a smile, and she sat down in a chair.

“Esce tu no pensa,” - Angus ia comenta asente - “ce come esta tortetas per un penig duida es alga cruel? Los ta pote crese asta tortetas per un penig. Me va abandona esta sportes savaje cuando nos es sposida.”

“Don’t you think,” observed Angus, absently, “that it’s rather cruel to eat these halfpenny buns? They might grow up into penny buns. I shall give up these brutal sports when we are married.”

La seniora joven ia leva se de se seja e ia pasea a la fenetra, evidente en stato de un pensa forte ma no nonsimpatiosa. Cuando a fini el ia turna ja se denova con un espresa desidosa de fas, el ia confusa se, oservante ce la om joven ia posa curante sur la table ojetos variosa de la fenetra de boteca. Los ia inclui la piramide de confetos de colores lusosa, alga platos de sanduitxes e la du carafas conteninte acel vino misteriosa: de Porto e de Xeres, cual es la propria de cosinores de tortas. A media de esta ordina la om ia pone curante la carga enorme de torta blanca e zucarida, cual ia es la orna enorme de la fenetra.

The dark young lady rose from her chair and walked to the window, evidently in a state of strong but not unsympathetic cogitation. When at last she swung round again with an air of resolution she was bewildered to observe that the young man was carefully laying out on the table various objects from the shop-window. They included a pyramid of highly coloured sweets, several plates of sandwiches, and the two decanters containing that mysterious port and sherry which are peculiar to pastry-cooks. In the middle of this neat arrangement he had carefully let down the enormous load of white sugared cake which had been the huge ornament of the window.

“Cual de mundo tu fa?” - la fem ia demanda.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked.

“Un debe, me Laura cara,” - la om ia comensa.

“Duty, my dear Laura,” he began.

“O, per la ama de Dio, para per un momento,” - la fem ia cria - “e no parla a me en acel modo. Cual es tota acel?

“Oh, for the Lord’s sake, stop a minute,” she cried, “and don’t talk to me in that way. I mean, what is all that?”

“Un come ritual, senioreta Hope.”

“A ceremonial meal, Miss Hope.”

“E acel?” - la fem ia demanda nonpasiente, indicante la montania de zucar.

“And what is that?” she asked impatiently, pointing to the mountain of sugar.

“La torta de sposi, seniora Angus,” - la om ia dise.

“The wedding-cake, Mrs. Angus,” he said.

La xica ia marxa a acel article, ia despone lo con alga clace, e ia repone lo en la fenetra de boteca; alora, el ia reveni e, apoiante ja se codos bela a la table, ia regarda la om joven, no en modo nonfavorable, ma con frustra notable.

The girl marched to that article, removed it with some clatter, and put it back in the shop window; she then returned, and, putting her elegant elbows on the table, regarded the young man not unfavourably but with considerable exasperation.

“Tu no dona a me tempo per pensa,” - el ia dise.

“You don’t give me any time to think,” she said.

“Me no es tal stulta,” - la om ia responde; - “acel es la me umilia cristian.”

“I’m not such a fool,” he answered; “that’s my Christian humility.”

La fem ia continua contempla la om; ma ia deveni notable plu grave pos la surie.

She was still looking at him; but she had grown considerably graver behind the smile.

“Senior Angus,” - el ia dise firma - “ante cuando nos ave un minuto plu de esta asurda, me debe dise a tu alga cosa sur me mesma tan pronto como posible.”

“Mr. Angus,” she said steadily, “before there is a minute more of this nonsense I must tell you something about myself as shortly as I can.”

“Deletada,” - Angus ia responde grave - “Tu ance pote dise a me alga cosa sur me mesma, en cuando tu es a punto de lo.”

“Delighted,” replied Angus gravely. “You might tell me something about myself, too, while you are about it.”

“O, silenti e escuta me,” - la fem ia dise - “Lo es no cosa sur cual me vergonia, e an no es alga cosa sur cual me regrete spesial. Ma cual tu ta dise si on ta ave alga cosa cual no conserna me, e es me incubo?”

“Oh, do hold your tongue and listen,” she said. “It’s nothing that I’m ashamed of, and it isn’t even anything that I’m specially sorry about. But what would you say if there were something that is no business of mine and yet is my nightmare?”

“En acel caso,” - la om ia dise seria - “me ta sujesta ce tu retrae la torta.”

“In that case,” said the man seriously, “I should suggest that you bring back the cake.”

“Bon, ante tota tu debe escuta la me nara,” - Laura ia dise ostinosa - “A la comensa, me debe esplica a tu, ce la me padre ia posese la otel nomida ‘La Pex Roja’, en Ludbury, e me ia servi en la bar.”

“Well, you must listen to the story first,” said Laura, persistently. “To begin with, I must tell you that my father owned the inn called the ‘Red Fish’ at Ludbury, and I used to serve people in the bar.”

“Frecuente, me ia demanda me,” - la om ia dise - “perce on ave un spesie de atmosfera cristian en esta boteca de confeto.”

“I have often wondered,” he said, “why there was a kind of a Christian air about this one confectioner’s shop.”

“Ludbury es un vila dormosa e fea en la contias este, e la sola persones ci ia ariva a ‘La Pex Roja’ ia es viajores comersial de tempo a tempo, e la otras ia es persones la plu asustante cual tu pote vide, ma tu ia vide nunca los. Me vole dise omes peti e no empleada, vestida en mal vestes cual ia es tro bon per los, la omes cual ia posese sola bastante per vive, e ia ave no cosa per fa estra apoia se a la bar e aposta sur cavalos. An esta viles joven misera no ia es multe comun a nos casa; on ia ave an tal du, ci ia es multe tro comun… tro comun en cada sinifia de le parola. Los ia vive ambos con se mone propre e los ia es monotonosa osiosa e vestida tro ostentosa. Ma me ia compati pico los, car me crede partal ce los ia vade a en nos bar abandonada car ambos de los ia ave un tal malformi peti, a cual alga campanianes rie. An tal, el no ia es esata un malformi; plu esata, lo ia es un strania. Un de los ia es un om surprendente corta, como un nano o a la min como un joce. El no ia es intera como un joce seguente la aspeta; el ia ave un testa ronda e negra, un barba bon cortida, oios briliante como los de un avia; el ia tintina mone en la poxes; el ia tintina un cadena, grande e oro, de orolojeta; e el ia apare sempre vestida tro multe como un senior per es un senior. Ma el ia es no stulta, an si un pigra futil; el ia es curiosa intelijente sur tota cosas nonusosa; un spesie de trucos improvisada de majia; la om ia causa ce des-sinco fosfores ensende la un de la otra como un pirotecnical normal; el ia talia un banana o alga otra cosa e fa un pupa baletiste de lo. La nom de la om ia es Isidore Smythe; me pote ancora vide el, con se fas alga oscur, arivante a la table e forminte de sinco sigares un cangaru saltante.”

“Ludbury is a sleepy, grassy little hole in the Eastern Counties, and the only kind of people who ever came to the ‘Red Fish’ were occasional commercial travellers, and for the rest, the most awful people you can see, only you’ve never seen them. I mean little, loungy men, who had just enough to live on and had nothing to do but lean about in bar-rooms and bet on horses, in bad clothes that were just too good for them. Even these wretched young rotters were not very common at our house; but there were two of them that were a lot too common—common in every sort of way. They both lived on money of their own, and were wearisomely idle and over-dressed. But yet I was a bit sorry for them, because I half believe they slunk into our little empty bar because each of them had a slight deformity; the sort of thing that some yokels laugh at. It wasn’t exactly a deformity either; it was more an oddity. One of them was a surprisingly small man, something like a dwarf, or at least like a jockey. He was not at all jockeyish to look at, though; he had a round black head and a well-trimmed black beard, bright eyes like a bird’s; he jingled money in his pockets; he jangled a great gold watch chain; and he never turned up except dressed just too much like a gentleman to be one. He was no fool though, though a futile idler; he was curiously clever at all kinds of things that couldn’t be the slightest use; a sort of impromptu conjuring; making fifteen matches set fire to each other like a regular firework; or cutting a banana or some such thing into a dancing doll. His name was Isidore Smythe; and I can see him still, with his little dark face, just coming up to the counter, making a jumping kangaroo out of five cigars.

“La otra om ia es plu silente e plu comun; ma en alga modo el ia alarma me multe plu ca Smythe peti e povre. La om ia es multe alta e magra, e blonde; se nas ia es longa e la om an ta pare bela seguente alga manera spetral; ma el ia ave la strabia la plu ofendente cual me ia vide o sur cual me ia oia a cualce ves. Cuando la om ia regarda direta on, on no ia sabe do on mesma es, e serta no cual el regarda. Me imajina ce esta defeto ia amargi la om povre en alga modo; car en cuando Smythe ia es preparada per presenta se trucos a alga loca, James Welkin (acel ia es la nom de la om converjente straba) ia fa no cosa estra empapa en nos bar, e emprende paseas grande en solitaria a tota lados de la campania plata e gris. Egal, me crede ce Smythe ance ia es sensosa sur se altia peti, an si el ia maneja plu intelijente lo. E, donce, me ia es vera confondeda, ance surprendeda, e multe regretente cuando ambos de los ia ofre sposi me en la mesma semana.”

“The other fellow was more silent and more ordinary; but somehow he alarmed me much more than poor little Smythe. He was very tall and slight, and light-haired; his nose had a high bridge, and he might almost have been handsome in a spectral sort of way; but he had one of the most appalling squints I have ever seen or heard of. When he looked straight at you, you didn’t know where you were yourself, let alone what he was looking at. I fancy this sort of disfigurement embittered the poor chap a little; for while Smythe was ready to show off his monkey tricks anywhere, James Welkin (that was the squinting man’s name) never did anything except soak in our bar parlour, and go for great walks by himself in the flat, grey country all round. All the same, I think Smythe, too, was a little sensitive about being so small, though he carried it off more smartly. And so it was that I was really puzzled, as well as startled, and very sorry, when they both offered to marry me in the same week.

“Bon, me ia fa alga cosa sur cual me ia pensa a pos como posible la plu fol. Ma ultima, esta omes ia es me amis en alga modo; e me ia ave un teror ce los pensa ce me refusa los par causa de la razona real: ambos de los es tan nonposible fea. Donce, me ia inventa un escusa ce me intende nunca sposi cualcun ci no ia siseli ja la se via en la mundo. Me ia dise ce lo es un prinsipe a me: no vive con mone eritada como se mone. A du dias pos cuando me ia parla ja tan bonintendente, la turba intera ia comensa se. Prima, me ia oia ce ambos de los ia parti per xerca fortunas, como en alga fable fol.”

“Well, I did what I’ve since thought was perhaps a silly thing. But, after all, these freaks were my friends in a way; and I had a horror of their thinking I refused them for the real reason, which was that they were so impossibly ugly. So I made up some gas of another sort, about never meaning to marry anyone who hadn’t carved his way in the world. I said it was a point of principle with me not to live on money that was just inherited like theirs. Two days after I had talked in this well-meaning sort of way, the whole trouble began. The first thing I heard was that both of them had gone off to seek their fortunes, as if they were in some silly fairy tale.

“Bon, me ia vide no la un e no la otra de acel dia asta aora. Ma me ia reseta du leteras de la om peti nomida Smythe, e los ia es vera alga stimulante.”

“Well, I’ve never seen either of them from that day to this. But I’ve had two letters from the little man called Smythe, and really they were rather exciting.”

“Esce tu ia oia ja sur la otra?” - Angus ia demanda.

“Ever heard of the other man?” asked Angus.

“No, la otra om ia scrive nunca,” - la xica ia dise pos un esita corta - “La letera prima de Smythe ia esplica simple ce el ia comensa la pasea a London con Welkin; ma Welkin ia es un paseor tan bon ce la om peti ia abandona lo e ia reposa a la lado de la via. Lo ia aveni ce alga gala viajante ia prende la om, e en parte par causa ce la om ia es cuasi un nano, e en parte par causa ce la misera peti ia es vera intelijente, el ia rici bon en la cosas de gala e ia es pronto enviada ja a la Acueria, per presenta alga trucos, cual me oblida. Acel ia es la se letera prima. La letera du ia es multe plu alarmante, e me ia reseta lo en la semana pasada.”

“No, he never wrote,” said the girl, after an instant’s hesitation. “Smythe’s first letter was simply to say that he had started out walking with Welkin to London; but Welkin was such a good walker that the little man dropped out of it, and took a rest by the roadside. He happened to be picked up by some travelling show, and, partly because he was nearly a dwarf, and partly because he was really a clever little wretch, he got on quite well in the show business, and was soon sent up to the Aquarium, to do some tricks that I forget. That was his first letter. His second was much more of a startler, and I only got it last week.”

La om nomida Angus ia vacui la se tas de cafe e ia regarda la fem con oios jentil e pasiente. La boca de la fem ia torse se un poca par causa de rie en cuando el ia recomensa - “Me suposa ce tu ia vide, sur la muretas de anunsia, cada cosa sur esta ‘Servi Silente de Smythe?’ Si no, tu debe es la sola person ci no ia vide lo. O, me no sabe multe sur lo, lo es alga inventa macinal per fa tota la debe de casa par macinas. Tu sabe cual lo es: ‘Presa un boton - un manejor de servores ci bevi nunca.’ ‘Turna un manico - des servores fem ci flirta nunca.’ Tu ia debe vide la anunsias. Bon, no importa cual esta macinas es, los gania pilas de mone; e los gania tota per acel om peti, cual me ia conose ala en Ludbury. Me no pote evita es felis ce la om peti e povre rici bon; ma en fato me es en teror car la om pote apare a cualce minuto e va dise a me ce el ia siseli la se via en la mundo… como el ia fa serta.”

The man called Angus emptied his coffee-cup and regarded her with mild and patient eyes. Her own mouth took a slight twist of laughter as she resumed, “I suppose you’ve seen on the hoardings all about this ‘Smythe’s Silent Service’? Or you must be the only person that hasn’t. Oh, I don’t know much about it, it’s some clockwork invention for doing all the housework by machinery. You know the sort of thing: ‘Press a Button—A Butler who Never Drinks.’ ‘Turn a Handle—Ten Housemaids who Never Flirt.’ You must have seen the advertisements. Well, whatever these machines are, they are making pots of money; and they are making it all for that little imp whom I knew down in Ludbury. I can’t help feeling pleased the poor little chap has fallen on his feet; but the plain fact is, I’m in terror of his turning up any minute and telling me he’s carved his way in the world—as he certainly has.”

“E la otra om?” - Angus ia repete con alga calmia ostinosa.

“And the other man?” repeated Angus with a sort of obstinate quietude.

Subita, Laura Hope ia sta se - “Me ami,” - el ia dise - “Me crede ce tu es un sorsor. Si, tu razona intera bon. Me no ia vide un linia de la scriveda de la otra om; me no ave idea plu ca la mor sur cual la om es o do el trova se. Ma me teme par causa de la om. El ensirca la me vive intera. El ia dementi me en parte; car me ia senti el, do el no ia pote es, e me ia oia la se vose cuando el no ia pote parla.”

Laura Hope got to her feet suddenly. “My friend,” she said, “I think you are a witch. Yes, you are quite right. I have not seen a line of the other man’s writing; and I have no more notion than the dead of what or where he is. But it is of him that I am frightened. It is he who is all about my path. It is he who has half driven me mad. Indeed, I think he has driven me mad; for I have felt him where he could not have been, and I have heard his voice when he could not have spoken.”

“Bon, la me cara,” - la om joven ia dise felis - “si el ta es an Satan mesma, cada cosa es finida ja a el, car tu ia nara a algun. On dementi sin compania, bon xica. Ma cuando tu ia imajina ce tu senti e oia la nos ami con strabia?”

“Well, my dear,” said the young man, cheerfully, “if he were Satan himself, he is done for now you have told somebody. One goes mad all alone, old girl. But when was it you fancied you felt and heard our squinting friend?”

“Me ia oia James Welkin rie tan clar como me oia tu parla,” - la xica ia dise sobre - “No person ia es ala, car me ia sta estra la boteca a la angulo e me ia pote regarda simultan longo ambos stradas. Me ia oblida ja como la om ia rie, an si la se rie ia es tan strana como la se strabia. Me no ia pensa ja sur el en cuasi un anio. Ma me es veria seria ce pos alga secondos la letera prima de se oposor ia ariva.”

“I heard James Welkin laugh as plainly as I hear you speak,” said the girl, steadily. “There was nobody there, for I stood just outside the shop at the corner, and could see down both streets at once. I had forgotten how he laughed, though his laugh was as odd as his squint. I had not thought of him for nearly a year. But it’s a solemn truth that a few seconds later the first letter came from his rival.”

“Esce tu ia fa ja ce la fantasma parla o grinse en alga modo?” - Angus ia demanda con alga interesa.

“Did you ever make the spectre speak or squeak, or anything?” asked Angus, with some interest.

Laura ia trema subita, e alora ia dise, con un vose nonscudeda - “Si. Esata cuando me ia fini la leje de la letera du de Isidore Smythe cual ia anunsia la se susede. Esata alora, me ia oia Welkin dise, ‘An tal la om no va posese tu.’ Lo ia es intera clar, como si la om ta es en la camera. Lo es asustante, me crede ce me debe es demente.”

Laura suddenly shuddered, and then said, with an unshaken voice, “Yes. Just when I had finished reading the second letter from Isidore Smythe announcing his success. Just then, I heard Welkin say, ‘He shan’t have you, though.’ It was quite plain, as if he were in the room. It is awful, I think I must be mad.”

“Si tu ta es vera demente,” - la om joven ia dise - “tu ta crede ce tu debe es mental sana. Ma, serta, on pare ave alga cualia strana en esta senior nonvideda. Du testas es plu bon ca un… me va salva a tu sur referes a cualce otra organos… e vera, si tu ta permete a me, como un om durante e pratical, retrae la torta de sposi de la fenetra…”

“If you really were mad,” said the young man, “you would think you must be sane. But certainly there seems to me to be something a little rum about this unseen gentleman. Two heads are better than one—I spare you allusions to any other organs and really, if you would allow me, as a sturdy, practical man, to bring back the wedding-cake out of the window—”

An en cuando el ia parla, on ia oia un cria aserin en la strada a estra, e un motor peti, gidada en rapidia diablosa, ia xuta se asta la porte de la boteca e ia fisa se ala. En la mesma tempo un om basa con un xapo silindre briliante ia sta piafante la solo en la camera esterna.

Even as he spoke, there was a sort of steely shriek in the street outside, and a small motor, driven at devilish speed, shot up to the door of the shop and stuck there. In the same flash of time a small man in a shiny top hat stood stamping in the outer room.

Angus, ci asta esta momento ia manteni ja un fasilia ilario par motivas de ijenia mental, ia revela la tensa de se spirito par pasea subita de la camera interna e par fronti la arivor nova. Un regarda a la om ia sufisi per confirma la divina savaje de un om enamada. Esta figur, multe ordinada ma nanin, con la spina de barba negra, portada a ante en modo egosa, la oios intelijente e noncuieta, la dijitos ordinada ma multe nervosa, ia pote es sola la om ja descriveda; Isidore Smythe, ci ia fa pupas de peles de banana e caxas de fosfores: Isidore Smythe, ci ia fa miliones par manejores nonbevinte de servores e servores fem nonflirtante de metal. En un momento ambos omes, comprendente con instinto se umores de posese, ia contempla la un la otra con acel jenerosia fria e curiosa, cual es la esense de es oposores.

Angus, who had hitherto maintained hilarious ease from motives of mental hygiene, revealed the strain of his soul by striding abruptly out of the inner room and confronting the new-comer. A glance at him was quite sufficient to confirm the savage guesswork of a man in love. This very dapper but dwarfish figure, with the spike of black beard carried insolently forward, the clever unrestful eyes, the neat but very nervous fingers, could be none other than the man just described to him: Isidore Smythe, who made dolls out of banana skins and match-boxes; Isidore Smythe, who made millions out of undrinking butlers and unflirting housemaids of metal. For a moment the two men, instinctively understanding each other’s air of possession, looked at each other with that curious cold generosity which is the soul of rivalry.

Ma Senior Smythe no ia refere a la causa vera de la oposa de los, ma el ia dise simple e esplodente - “Esce senioreta Hope ia vide acel cosa sur la fenetra?”

Mr. Smythe, however, made no allusion to the ultimate ground of their antagonism, but said simply and explosively, “Has Miss Hope seen that thing on the window?”

“Sur la fenetra?” - Angus ia repete intensa regardante.

“On the window?” repeated the staring Angus.

“Me ave no tempo per esplica otra cosas,” - la milionor peti ia dise pronto - “On ave asi alga asurda, cual debe es investigada.”

“There’s no time to explain other things,” said the small millionaire shortly. “There’s some tomfoolery going on here that has to be investigated.”

El, con se basto briliada, ia indica la fenetra, resente vacuida par causa de la preparas de senior Angus per sposi; e acel senior ia es surprendeda, vidente, longo la fronte de la vitro, un banda longa de paper, cual serta no ia es sur la fenestra cuando el ia regarda tra lo ante alga tempo. Seguente la Smythe enerjiosa a estra, a en la strada, la om ia descovre ce un iard e un dui de paper de selos postal ia es ja curante colida longo la vitro a estra, e on ia ave scriveda sur lo con leteras noncoerente: - “Si tu sposi Smythe, Smythe va mori.”

He pointed his polished walking-stick at the window, recently depleted by the bridal preparations of Mr. Angus; and that gentleman was astonished to see along the front of the glass a long strip of paper pasted, which had certainly not been on the window when he looked through it some time before. Following the energetic Smythe outside into the street, he found that some yard and a half of stamp paper had been carefully gummed along the glass outside, and on this was written in straggly characters, “If you marry Smythe, he will die.”

“Laura,” - Angus ia dise, ponente la testa roja e grande a en la boteca - “Tu no es demente.”

“Laura,” said Angus, putting his big red head into the shop, “you’re not mad.”

“Lo es la scriveda de acel vil Welkin,” - Smythe ia dise nonjentil - “Me no ia vide el en anios, ma el irita sempre me. A sinco veses en la du semanas ultima el ia lasa leteras menasante a me aparte, e me no pote an descovre ci lasa los, e intera no esce lo es Welkin mesma. La portor de la apartes jura ce no persones suspetosa es ja videda, e asi la om ia coli un banda a la fenetra de la boteca publica, en cuando la persones en la boteca….”

“It’s the writing of that fellow Welkin,” said Smythe gruffly. “I haven’t seen him for years, but he’s always bothering me. Five times in the last fortnight he’s had threatening letters left at my flat, and I can’t even find out who leaves them, let alone if it is Welkin himself. The porter of the flats swears that no suspicious characters have been seen, and here he has pasted up a sort of dado on a public shop window, while the people in the shop—”

“Esata,” - Angus ia dise umil - “en cuando la persones en la boteca ia bevi te. Bon, senior, me pote declara a tu, ce es me grasiosa per tu sensa comun en trata tan direta la cosa. Nos va pote parla de otra cosas a pos. La vil no pote ja es distante, car me jura ce no paper ia es ala cuando me ia vade a la fenetra a la ves ultima, ante des o des-sinco minutos. A la otra lado, el es tro distante per es xasada, car nos no sabe la dirije. Si tu va segue la me avisa, senior Smythe, sin retarda tu va pone esta a la manos de alga investigor enerjiosa, privata en loca de publica. Me conose un om estrema intelijente, cual ave un ofisia a sinco minutos de asi con tu auto. Se nom es Flambeau, e an si la se jovenia ia es alga tempestosa, aora el es un om seria onesta e se capasias merita mone. El abita en Lucknow Mansions, en Hampstead.”

“Quite so,” said Angus modestly, “while the people in the shop were having tea. Well, sir, I can assure you I appreciate your common sense in dealing so directly with the matter. We can talk about other things afterwards. The fellow cannot be very far off yet, for I swear there was no paper there when I went last to the window, ten or fifteen minutes ago. On the other hand, he’s too far off to be chased, as we don’t even know the direction. If you’ll take my advice, Mr. Smythe, you’ll put this at once in the hands of some energetic inquiry man, private rather than public. I know an extremely clever fellow, who has set up in business five minutes from here in your car. His name’s Flambeau, and though his youth was a bit stormy, he’s a strictly honest man now, and his brains are worth money. He lives in Lucknow Mansions, Hampstead.”

“Acel es strana,” - la om peti ia dise, arcinte se suprasiles negra - “Me mesma abita ala, en Himylaya Mansions ultra la angulo. Posible tu ta gusta vade con me; me va pote vade a me cameras per organiza esta documentos strana de Welkin, en cuando tu freta e trae la tu ami, la detetor.”

“That is odd,” said the little man, arching his black eyebrows. “I live, myself, in Himylaya Mansions, round the corner. Perhaps you might care to come with me; I can go to my rooms and sort out these queer Welkin documents, while you run round and get your friend the detective.”

“Tu es multe bon,” - Angus ia dise cortes - “Bon, plu pronto nos ata, plu bon.”

“You are very good,” said Angus politely. “Well, the sooner we act the better.”

Ambos omes, con un spesie strana de justia improvisada, ia prende la mesma spesie de adio formal de la dama e ambos ia salta a en la auto rapida peti. En cuando Smythe ia prende la manicos e la omes ia reversa se a la angulo grande de la strada, Angus ia diverti se vidente un anunsia jigante de “Servi Silente de Smythe”, con un pitur de un pupa enorme, ferin e sin testa ferin, portante un caserol con la slogan: “Un cosinor cual es nunca iritada.”

Both men, with a queer kind of impromptu fairness, took the same sort of formal farewell of the lady, and both jumped into the brisk little car. As Smythe took the handles and they turned the great corner of the street, Angus was amused to see a gigantesque poster of “Smythe’s Silent Service,” with a picture of a huge headless iron doll, carrying a saucepan with the legend, “A Cook Who is Never Cross.”

“Me usa los en me aparte propre,” - la om peti con un barba negra ia dise riente - “en parte como anunsias, e en parte par causa de oportunia real. En modo onesta e abrida, acel me pupas, grande e macinal, trae carbon, o vino, o un carta de oras en modo plu rapida ca cualce manejores vivente de servores sempre conoseda de me, si tu conose cual boton tu debe presa. Ma me va nega nunca, entre nos, ce tal servores ave ance se nonvantajes.”

“I use them in my own flat,” said the little black-bearded man, laughing, “partly for advertisements, and partly for real convenience. Honestly, and all above board, those big clockwork dolls of mine do bring your coals or claret or a timetable quicker than any live servants I’ve ever known, if you know which knob to press. But I’ll never deny, between ourselves, that such servants have their disadvantages, too.”

“En fato?” - Angus ia dise; - “es alga cosa esiste cual los no pote fa?”

“Indeed?” said Angus; “is there something they can’t do?”

“Si,” - Smythe ia responde calma; - “los no pote dise a me, ci ia lasa acel leteras menasante a me aparte.”

“Yes,” replied Smythe coolly; “they can’t tell me who left those threatening letters at my flat.”

La se motor ia es peti e rapida como el mesma; en fato, como la servi de casa, lo ia es la inventa propre de Smythe. Si el ia es un xarlatan anunsiante, el ia es la un cual ia fida a se benes propre. La sinifia sur alga cosa pico e volante ia es asentuada en cuando los ia vade longo curvas longa e blanca de via en la lus de sera, mor ma abrida. Pronto la curvas blanca ia deveni plu agu e plu mareada; los ia es sur spirales asendente, como on dise en la relijios moderna. Car en fato los ia es traversante un angulo de London cual es cuasi tan presipe como Edinburgh, an si no tan piturin. Terazas ia leva se la un supra la otra e la tore spesial de apartes, cual los ia xerca, ia leva se supra tota de los en altia cuasi egipsian, dorada par la reposa nivel de sol. La cambia, en cuando los ia reversa se a la angulo e ia entra la cresente nomida Himylaya Mansions, ia es tan agu como la abri de fenetra; car los ia trova acel pila de apartes sentante aupra London como si supra un mar verde de ardosia. Oposada a la casas, a la otra lado de la cresente de calculos, on ia ave un ensirca arboretal, plu simil a un sepe vivente e presipe o paramar ca a un jardin, e alga plu a su de acel ia es un banda de acua artifisial, un spesie de canal, como la foso de acel fortres ensircada. En cuando la auto ia reversa se a la cresente, lo ia pasa, a un angulo, la caro acaso de un vendor de castanias; e en distantia a la otra fini de la curva, Angus ia pote vide un polisior oscur blu lenta paseante. Estas ia es la figures umana cual es unica en acel solitaria alta de suburbes; ma Angus ia ave un sensa nonrazonal, ce los espresa la poesia nonparlante de London. El ia senti como si los es figures en un nara.

The man’s motor was small and swift like himself; in fact, like his domestic service, it was of his own invention. If he was an advertising quack, he was one who believed in his own wares. The sense of something tiny and flying was accentuated as they swept up long white curves of road in the dead but open daylight of evening. Soon the white curves came sharper and dizzier; they were upon ascending spirals, as they say in the modern religions. For, indeed, they were cresting a corner of London which is almost as precipitous as Edinburgh, if not quite so picturesque. Terrace rose above terrace, and the special tower of flats they sought, rose above them all to almost Egyptian height, gilt by the level sunset. The change, as they turned the corner and entered the crescent known as Himylaya Mansions, was as abrupt as the opening of a window; for they found that pile of flats sitting above London as above a green sea of slate. Opposite to the mansions, on the other side of the gravel crescent, was a bushy enclosure more like a steep hedge or dyke than a garden, and some way below that ran a strip of artificial water, a sort of canal, like the moat of that embowered fortress. As the car swept round the crescent it passed, at one corner, the stray stall of a man selling chestnuts; and right away at the other end of the curve, Angus could see a dim blue policeman walking slowly. These were the only human shapes in that high suburban solitude; but he had an irrational sense that they expressed the speechless poetry of London. He felt as if they were figures in a story.

La auto peti ia ariva asta la casa coreta como un baleta, e ia xuta se posesor como un bomba. El ia demanda sin retarda a un portor alta en xarpe briliante e a un portor basa sin jaca, esce algun o alga cosa ia xerca se apartes. El ia serti se ce no person e no cosa ia pasa esta ofisiales pos se demandas ultima; e post acel el e la Angus pico confusada ia xuta se en la asendador como un roceto, asta la nivel la plu alta.

The little car shot up to the right house like a bullet, and shot out its owner like a bomb shell. He was immediately inquiring of a tall commissionaire in shining braid, and a short porter in shirt sleeves, whether anybody or anything had been seeking his apartments. He was assured that nobody and nothing had passed these officials since his last inquiries; whereupon he and the slightly bewildered Angus were shot up in the lift like a rocket, till they reached the top floor.

“Entra per un minuto,” - Smythe ia dise sin respira - “Me vole mostra a vos acel leteras de Welkin. Alora tu debe freta ultra la angulo e debe retrae la tu ami.” - El ia presa un boton ascondeda en la mur e la porte ia abri par se mesma.

“Just come in for a minute,” said the breathless Smythe. “I want to show you those Welkin letters. Then you might run round the corner and fetch your friend.” He pressed a button concealed in the wall, and the door opened of itself.

Lo ia dona entra a un sala de espeta: longa, spasiosa, en cual la sola detalias fante persepi, en parolas normal, ia es la linias de figures macinal, semiumana, e alta, cual ia sta sur ambos lados como manicines de talior. Como manicines de talior los ance ia no ave testas; como manicines de talior los ia ave un jiba bela e nonesesada en la spalas, e un protende de peto como pijon; ma estra acel, los ia es simil a un figur umana no multe plu ca cualce macina automata en un stasion, cual ave sirca la altia umana. Los ia ave du brasos como oncas grande per la porta de platones; e los ia es pintida en verde de piso, o roja briliante, o negra per oportunia de distingui; en cada otra modo los ia es sola aora macinas automata e no person ta regarda los a du veses. A esta ves, a la min, no person ia fa acel en fato. Car entre la du linias de esta manicines de casa on ia ave alga cosa multe plu interesante ca la majoria de macinas en la mundo intera. Acel ia es pico de paper: blanca, trinxada, e scriveda con inca roja; la inventor ajil ia saisi ja lo cuasi sin retarda cuando la porte ia abri. El ia dona lo a Angus sin dise parola. La inca roja sur lo no ia es en fato seca e la mesaje ia es: - “Si tu ia visita oji la fem, me va mata tu.”

It opened on a long, commodious ante-room, of which the only arresting features, ordinarily speaking, were the rows of tall half-human mechanical figures that stood up on both sides like tailors’ dummies. Like tailors’ dummies they were headless; and like tailors’ dummies they had a handsome unnecessary humpiness in the shoulders, and a pigeon-breasted protuberance of chest; but barring this, they were not much more like a human figure than any automatic machine at a station that is about the human height. They had two great hooks like arms, for carrying trays; and they were painted pea-green, or vermilion, or black for convenience of distinction; in every other way they were only automatic machines and nobody would have looked twice at them. On this occasion, at least, nobody did. For between the two rows of these domestic dummies lay something more interesting than most of the mechanics of the world. It was a white, tattered scrap of paper scrawled with red ink; and the agile inventor had snatched it up almost as soon as the door flew open. He handed it to Angus without a word. The red ink on it actually was not dry, and the message ran, “If you have been to see her today, I shall kill you.”

On ia ave un silentia corta, e alora Isidore Smythe ia dise cuieta - “Esce tu desira alga uisce? Me senti ce me ta gusta.”

There was a short silence, and then Isidore Smythe said quietly, “Would you like a little whiskey? I rather feel as if I should.”

“Grasias; me prefere alga Flambeau,” - Angus ia dise sombre - “Lo pare ce esta cosa deveni plu e plu grave. Me va trae el sin retarda.”

“Thank you; I should like a little Flambeau,” said Angus, gloomily. “This business seems to me to be getting rather grave. I’m going round at once to fetch him.”

“Bon,” - la otra ia dise, con contentia amirable - “Trae el tan pronto como posible.”

“Right you are,” said the other, with admirable cheerfulness. “Bring him round here as quick as you can.”

Ma en cuando Angus ia clui la porte xef pos se, el ia vide ce Smythe presa un boton, e un de la figures macinal ia lisca de se loca longo un ranur en la solo, portante un platon con sifon e carafa. Lo ia pare ave alga cosa pico strana en lasa la om peti solitar entre acel servores mor, ci ia anima en cuando la porte ia clui.

But as Angus closed the front door behind him he saw Smythe push back a button, and one of the clockwork images glided from its place and slid along a groove in the floor carrying a tray with syphon and decanter. There did seem something a trifle weird about leaving the little man alone among those dead servants, who were coming to life as the door closed.

A ses grados su la niveleta de Smythe, la om en mangas de camisa ia fa alga cosa con un balde. Angus ia para per estrae un promete, fortida par mone, ce la om va resta ala asta cuando el va reveni con la detetor, e la om va atende cualce stranjer, cual va asende acel scalera. Corente ja a la coredor xef, Angus ia fa recomendas simil de vijila a la portor, de ci el ia aprende la situa simplinte, ce on ave no porte retro. No contente con esta, el ia catura la polisior flotante e ia indui el a sta a fas de la entra e oserva lo; e a fini ia pausa per un momento per un penig de castanias, e per un demanda sur la longia probable de la reposa de la vendor en la visineria.

Six steps down from Smythe’s landing the man in shirt sleeves was doing something with a pail. Angus stopped to extract a promise, fortified with a prospective bribe, that he would remain in that place until the return with the detective, and would keep count of any kind of stranger coming up those stairs. Dashing down to the front hall he then laid similar charges of vigilance on the commissionaire at the front door, from whom he learned the simplifying circumstances that there was no back door. Not content with this, he captured the floating policeman and induced him to stand opposite the entrance and watch it; and finally paused an instant for a pennyworth of chestnuts, and an inquiry as to the probable length of the merchant’s stay in the neighbourhood.

La vendor de castanias, levante la colar de se jaca, ia dise ce probable el va move se pronto, car el crede ce neva va comensa. En fato la sera ia deveni gris e amarga, ma Angus, con tota se bonparla, ia prosede cloi la om a se loca.

The chestnut seller, turning up the collar of his coat, told him he should probably be moving shortly, as he thought it was going to snow. Indeed, the evening was growing grey and bitter, but Angus, with all his eloquence, proceeded to nail the chestnut man to his post.

“Caldi tu con tu castanias propre,” - Angus ia dise seria - “Consuma la tu reservas intera; me va recompensa a tu. Me va dona un paund oro a tu si tu va resta asi asta la me reveni, e alora ta ce tu dise a me esce cualce om, o fem, o enfante ia entra a en acel casa do la portor sta.”

“Keep yourself warm on your own chestnuts,” he said earnestly. “Eat up your whole stock; I’ll make it worth your while. I’ll give you a sovereign if you’ll wait here till I come back, and then tell me whether any man, woman, or child has gone into that house where the commissionaire is standing.”

Alora el ia pasea intelijente a via, con un regarda ultima a la tore asejada.

He then walked away smartly, with a last look at the besieged tower.

“A la min me ia ensirca acel camera,” - el ia dise - “Tota cuatro de los no pote es aidores de senior Welkin.”

“I’ve made a ring round that room, anyhow,” he said. “They can’t all four of them be Mr. Welkin’s accomplices.”

Lucknow Mansions ia es, per dise tal, sur un niveleta plu basa de acel colina de casas, de cual on ta pote nomi Himylaya Mansions la culmina. La aparte semiofisial de Flambeau ia trova se sur la nivel de tera e ia presenta a tota modos un contrasta marcada con la macinas american e luso fria, simil a un otel, de la aparte de la Servi Silente. Flambeau, ci ia es un ami de Angus, ia reseta el en un camera rococo artal pos se ofisia, en cual la ornas ia es sabres, arcebuses, novetas este, botelas de vinos italian, vasos savaje de cosini, un gato farsi plumosa, e un prete roman catolica, peti, con aspeta polvosa, cual ia pare es en loca intera mal.

Lucknow Mansions were, so to speak, on a lower platform of that hill of houses, of which Himylaya Mansions might be called the peak. Mr. Flambeau’s semi-official flat was on the ground floor, and presented in every way a marked contrast to the American machinery and cold hotel-like luxury of the flat of the Silent Service. Flambeau, who was a friend of Angus, received him in a rococo artistic den behind his office, of which the ornaments were sabres, harquebuses, Eastern curiosities, flasks of Italian wine, savage cooking-pots, a plumy Persian cat, and a small dusty-looking Roman Catholic priest, who looked particularly out of place.

“Me presenta me ami Padre Brown,” - Flambeau ia dise - “Me ia vole frecuente ce tu encontra el. Esta es un aira merveliosa; pico fria per omes sude como me.”

“This is my friend Father Brown,” said Flambeau. “I’ve often wanted you to meet him. Splendid weather, this; a little cold for Southerners like me.”

“Si, me pensa ce lo va resta clar,” - Angus ia dise, sentante se sur un sofa este con raios violeta.

“Yes, I think it will keep clear,” said Angus, sitting down on a violet-striped Eastern ottoman.

“No,” - la prete ia dise cuieta - “Lo ia comensa neva.”

“No,” said the priest quietly, “it has begun to snow.”

E, en fato, en cuando el ia parla, la poca flocos prima, prevideda par la om de castania, ia comensa vaga ultra la fenetra oscurinte.

And, indeed, as he spoke, the first few flakes, foreseen by the man of chestnuts, began to drift across the darkening windowpane.

“Bon,” - Angus ia dise pesosa - “Me teme ce me veni sur un negosia, e an sur un negosia alarmante. La fato es, Flambeau, ce en un distantia peti de tu casa on ave un om ci nesesa multe la tu aida; el es eterna infestada e menasada par un enemi nonvidable… un vil ci no person ia vide.” - En cuando Angus ia continua nara la istoria intera sur Smythe e Welkin, comensante con la nara de Laura e continuante con la se propre, la rie supranatural a la angulo de du stradas vacua, la parolas strana, distinguida, parlada en un camera abandonada, Flambeau ia deveni consernada en modo plu e plu enerjosa e la prete peti ia pare es ometeda, como un mobila. Cuando lo ia veni a la paper malscriveda de selos colida a la fenetra, Flambeau ia leva se, e ia pare pleni la camera con se spalas vasta.

“Well,” said Angus heavily. “I’m afraid I’ve come on business, and rather jumpy business at that. The fact is, Flambeau, within a stone’s throw of your house is a fellow who badly wants your help; he’s perpetually being haunted and threatened by an invisible enemy—a scoundrel whom nobody has even seen.” As Angus proceeded to tell the whole tale of Smythe and Welkin, beginning with Laura’s story, and going on with his own, the supernatural laugh at the corner of two empty streets, the strange distinct words spoken in an empty room, Flambeau grew more and more vividly concerned, and the little priest seemed to be left out of it, like a piece of furniture. When it came to the scribbled stamp-paper pasted on the window, Flambeau rose, seeming to fill the room with his huge shoulders.

“Si tu no desacorda,” - el ia dise - “me prefere ce tu dise a me la resta sur la via la plu prosima a la casa de esta om. Lo pare a me, ce nos pote perde no tempo.”

“If you don’t mind,” he said, “I think you had better tell me the rest on the nearest road to this man’s house. It strikes me, somehow, that there is no time to be lost.”

“Deletada,” - Angus ia dise levante se ance - “ma la om es completa secur per la presente, car me ia prepara cuatro omes per garda la buco unica de la tunel.”

“Delighted,” said Angus, rising also, “though he’s safe enough for the present, for I’ve set four men to watch the only hole to his burrow.”

Los ia sorti a en la strada, la prete peti donce movente pos los con la obedi de un can peti. El ia dise sola, con manera joiosa, como algun desirante conversa - “Como rapida la neva densi sur la tera.”

They turned out into the street, the small priest trundling after them with the docility of a small dog. He merely said, in a cheerful way, like one making conversation, “How quick the snow gets thick on the ground.”

En cuando los ia fili la stradetas presipe, ja covreda con polvo arjento, Angus ia fini la se nara; e cuando los ia ateni la cresente con la apartes torinte, el ia ave osio per turna la se atende a la cuatro vijilores. La vendor de castanias, e ante, e pos cuando el reseta un paund oro, ia jura ostinosa ce el ia oserva la porte e vide no visitor entra. La polisior ia es an plu asentuante. El ia dise ce el ave esperia sur tota viles, en silindres e en trapos; el no es tan “verde” ce el ta espeta ce carateres suspetosa debe pare suspetosa; la polisior ia regarda a estra per cualce om, e ta ce la sielo aida el, el ia vide no person. E cuando tota tre omes ia asembla sirca la portor dorada, ci ia sta ancora suriente en la portico, la deside ia es an plu final.

As they threaded the steep side streets already powdered with silver, Angus finished his story; and by the time they reached the crescent with the towering flats, he had leisure to turn his attention to the four sentinels. The chestnut seller, both before and after receiving a sovereign, swore stubbornly that he had watched the door and seen no visitor enter. The policeman was even more emphatic. He said he had had experience of crooks of all kinds, in top hats and in rags; he wasn’t so green as to expect suspicious characters to look suspicious; he looked out for anybody, and, so help him, there had been nobody. And when all three men gathered round the gilded commissionaire, who still stood smiling astride of the porch, the verdict was more final still.

“Me ave la direto de demanda a cualce om, duxe o dejetor, cual cosa el xerca en esta apartes,” - la jigante, amable e con dentelas oro, ia dise - “e me va jura ce no person es asi a cual demanda, de cuando esta senior ia parti.”

“I’ve got a right to ask any man, duke or dustman, what he wants in these flats,” said the genial and gold-laced giant, “and I’ll swear there’s been nobody to ask since this gentleman went away.”

La Padre Brown nongrave, ci ia sta a retro, umil contemplante la paseria, alora ia osa dise con timidia - “Donce esce no person ia asende e desende la scalera de cuando la neva ia comensa cade? Lo ia comensa en cuando tota de nos ia es en casa de Flambeau.”

The unimportant Father Brown, who stood back, looking modestly at the pavement, here ventured to say meekly, “Has nobody been up and down stairs, then, since the snow began to fall? It began while we were all round at Flambeau’s.”

“No person ia veni asi, senior, tu pote fida a me,” - la ofisior ia dise, con autoria radiante.

“Nobody’s been in here, sir, you can take it from me,” said the official, with beaming authority.

“Me demanda a me, cual es acel?” - la prete ia dise, e ia regarda intensa a la tera, sin espresa como un pex.

“Then I wonder what that is?” said the priest, and stared at the ground blankly like a fish.

Tota la otras ance ia regarda a basa; e Flambeau ia usa un esclama furiosa e un jesti franses. Car lo ia es nondutada vera ce par la media de la porte gardada par la om en dentela oro, en fato entre la gamas egosa e estendeda de acel jigante, un forma simil a cordeta de impresas gris de pedes, fada sur la neva blanca, ia core.

The others all looked down also; and Flambeau used a fierce exclamation and a French gesture. For it was unquestionably true that down the middle of the entrance guarded by the man in gold lace, actually between the arrogant, stretched legs of that colossus, ran a stringy pattern of grey footprints stamped upon the white snow.

“Dio,” - Angus ia cria spontan - “la Om Nonvidable.”

“God!” cried Angus involuntarily, “the Invisible Man!”

Sin un otra parola el ia turna se e ia core a alta par la scalera, e Flambeau ia segue el; ma Padre Brown ia sta ancora regardante sirca se, sur la strada covreda con neva, como si el ta perde ja interesa sur se demanda.

Without another word he turned and dashed up the stairs, with Flambeau following; but Father Brown still stood looking about him in the snow-clad street as if he had lost interest in his query.

Flambeau ia es clar en un umor per crase la porte con se spalas grande; ma la scotes, con plu de razona, ma min de intui, ia xerca sirca se sur la strutur de la porte asta el ia trova la boton nonvidable; e la porte ia abri se lenta.

Flambeau was plainly in a mood to break down the door with his big shoulders; but the Scotchman, with more reason, if less intuition, fumbled about on the frame of the door till he found the invisible button; and the door swung slowly open.

Lo ia mostra sustantial la mesma interna densa; la coredor ia deveni ja plu oscur, an si, asi e ala, la ases ultima e carmesi de la reposa de sol ia regarda lo, e un o du de la macinas sin testas ia es moveda ja de se locas per esta o acel gol, e los ia sta a sirca asi e ala en la camera penombrosa. La verde e roja de se jacas ia es tota oscurida en la lus final; e la se simili a formas umana pico aumentada par se manca mesma de forma. Ma en la media, entre tota de los, esata do la paper con la inca roja ia reposa, on ia ave alga cosa, multe simil a inca roja malversada de se botela. Ma lo no ia es inca roja.

It showed substantially the same serried interior; the hall had grown darker, though it was still struck here and there with the last crimson shafts of sunset, and one or two of the headless machines had been moved from their places for this or that purpose, and stood here and there about the twilit place. The green and red of their coats were all darkened in the dusk; and their likeness to human shapes slightly increased by their very shapelessness. But in the middle of them all, exactly where the paper with the red ink had lain, there lay something that looked like red ink spilt out of its bottle. But it was not red ink.

Con un combina franses de razona e violentia Flambeau ia dise simple - “Un omiside!” - e, tufante ja a en la aparte, ia esplora ja cada angulo e armario de lo en min de sinco minutos. Ma si el ia espeta trova un corpo mor, el no ia trova lo. Isidore Smythe no ia es ala, o mor, o vivente. Pos xerca la plu furiosa, ambos omes ia encontra se en la coredor esterna, con fases fluente e oios intensa regardante. “Me ami,” - Flambeau ia dise parlante franses en se stimula - “la omisidor no es sola nonvidable, ma el ancora fa ance ce la om omisideda es nonvidable.”

With a French combination of reason and violence Flambeau simply said “Murder!” and, plunging into the flat, had explored, every corner and cupboard of it in five minutes. But if he expected to find a corpse he found none. Isidore Smythe was not in the place, either dead or alive. After the most tearing search the two men met each other in the outer hall, with streaming faces and staring eyes. “My friend,” said Flambeau, talking French in his excitement, “not only is your murderer invisible, but he makes invisible also the murdered man.”

Angus ia regarda sirca se a la camera penombrosa e plen de manicines, e en alga angulo celtica de se spirito scotes un trema ia comensa. Un de la pupas de grandia natural ia sta esata supra la manxa de sangue, clamada, posible, par la om matada sin retarda ante cuando el ia cade. Un de la oncas de spalas alta, cual la cosa ia usa como brasos, ia es alga levada, e Angus ia imajina subita ce la enfante propre e ferin de Smythe ia inonda ja la om. La materia ia rebela ja, e esta macinas ia mata ja se senior. Ma an tal, cual los ia fa ja con la om?

Angus looked round at the dim room full of dummies, and in some Celtic corner of his Scotch soul a shudder started. One of the life-size dolls stood immediately overshadowing the blood stain, summoned, perhaps, by the slain man an instant before he fell. One of the high-shouldered hooks that served the thing for arms, was a little lifted, and Angus had suddenly the horrid fancy that poor Smythe’s own iron child had struck him down. Matter had rebelled, and these machines had killed their master. But even so, what had they done with him?

“Come el?” - la incubo ia dise a orea de la om; e la om ia maladi en un momento par causa de la idea de restas umana laserada, asorbeda e craseda a en acel macina sin testa.

“Eaten him?” said the nightmare at his ear; and he sickened for an instant at the idea of rent, human remains absorbed and crushed into all that acephalous clockwork.

El ia recovre la se sania mental con un fortia asentuada e ia dise a Flambeau - “Bon, asi lo es. La om povre ia vapori como un nube e ia lasa un raio roja sur la solo. La cosa no parteni a esta mundo.”

He recovered his mental health by an emphatic effort, and said to Flambeau, “Well, there it is. The poor fellow has evaporated like a cloud and left a red streak on the floor. The tale does not belong to this world.”

“Nos pote fa sola un cosa,” - Flambeau ia dise - “si lo parteni o a esta mundo o la otra. Me debe parti e parla con me ami.”

“There is only one thing to be done,” said Flambeau, “whether it belongs to this world or the other. I must go down and talk to my friend.”

Los ia desende, pasante la om con la balde, ci denova ia declara ce el no ia permete pasa a un intruor, asta la portor e la om de castania flotante a sirca, ci en modo rijida ia redeclara la se vijila propre. Ma cuando Angus ia regarda sirca se per se confirma cuatro, el no ia pote vide lo e ia cria con alga ansia - “Do es la polisior?”

They descended, passing the man with the pail, who again asseverated that he had let no intruder pass, down to the commissionaire and the hovering chestnut man, who rigidly reasserted their own watchfulness. But when Angus looked round for his fourth confirmation he could not see it, and called out with some nervousness, “Where is the policeman?”

“Me demanda la tu pardona,” - Padre Brown ia dise - “acel es la me falta. Me ia envia el longo la via per esplora un cosa… cual, me ia crede, merita la esplora.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Father Brown; “that is my fault. I just sent him down the road to investigate something—that I just thought worth investigating.”

“Bon, nos nesesa pronto la se reveni,” - Angus ia dise subita - “car la om misera a supra es no sola omisideda, ma ance el ia desapare.”

“Well, we want him back pretty soon,” said Angus abruptly, “for the wretched man upstairs has not only been murdered, but wiped out.”

“Como?” - la prete ia demanda.

“How?” asked the priest.

“Padre,” - Flambeau ia dise pos un pausa - “en fato me crede ce lo es un cosa parteninte plu a tu ramo ca a me ramo. No person, ami o enemi, ia entra a la casa, ma Smythe ia parti, como si furada de fes. Si acel no es supranatural, me…”

“Father,” said Flambeau, after a pause, “upon my soul I believe it is more in your department than mine. No friend or foe has entered the house, but Smythe is gone, as if stolen by the fairies. If that is not supernatural, I—”

En cuando el ia parla, tota de los ia es parada par causa de un vista nonusual; la polisior grande e blu ia ariva corente, sirca la angulo de la cresente. Sin retarda, el ia prosimi a Brown.

As he spoke they were all checked by an unusual sight; the big blue policeman came round the corner of the crescent, running. He came straight up to Brown.

“Tu razona bon, senior,” - el ia respira rapida - “on ia trova ja la corpo de senior Smythe povre en la canal a su, ala.”

“You’re right, sir,” he panted, “they’ve just found poor Mr. Smythe’s body in the canal down below.”

Angus ia pone savaje la mano a la testa - “Esce la om ia core a basa e ia afoca se?” - el ia demanda.

Angus put his hand wildly to his head. “Did he run down and drown himself?” he asked.

“El ia veni nunca a basa, me jura,” - la polisior ia dise - “e el no ia afoca se, car el ia mori par causa de coteli supra la cor.”

“He never came down, I’ll swear,” said the constable, “and he wasn’t drowned either, for he died of a great stab over the heart.”

“E esce tu ia vide no person entrante?” - Flambeau ia dise con un vose grave.

“And yet you saw no one enter?” said Flambeau in a grave voice.

“Ta ce nos pasea alga longo la via,” - la prete ia dise.

“Let us walk down the road a little,” said the priest.

En cuando los ia ateni la otra fini de la cresente el ia comenta subita - “Me es stupida! Me ia oblida demanda un cosa a la polisior. Me demanda a me esce los ia trova un saco pal brun.”

As they reached the other end of the crescent he observed abruptly, “Stupid of me! I forgot to ask the policeman something. I wonder if they found a light brown sack.”

“Perce un saco pal brun?” - Angus ia demanda surprendeda.

“Why a light brown sack?” asked Angus, astonished.

“Car si la saco ia ave cualce otra color, la caso debe comensa se denova,” - Padre Brown ia dise; - “ma si la saco ia es pal brun, donce la cosa es finida ja.”

“Because if it was any other coloured sack, the case must begin over again,” said Father Brown; “but if it was a light brown sack, why, the case is finished.”

“Me es multe plaseda de oia lo,” - Angus ia dise con ironia zelosa - “lo ancora no ia comensa se, cuanto lo conserna me.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” said Angus with hearty irony. “It hasn’t begun, so far as I am concerned.”

“Tu debe nara tota a nos,” - Flambeau ia dise con un simplia strana e pesosa, como un enfante.

“You must tell us all about it,” said Flambeau with a strange heavy simplicity, like a child.

Nonconsensa, los ia pasea plu e plu rapida, longo la estende longa de strada a la otra lado de la cresente alta, con Padre Brown gidante con enerjia ma en silentia. A fini el ia dise con un neblosia cuasi tocante - “Bon, me teme ce vos va opina ce lo es tan prosin. Nos comensa sempre a la fini astrata de cosas, e on no pote comensa esta nara a otra loca.”

Unconsciously they were walking with quickening steps down the long sweep of road on the other side of the high crescent, Father Brown leading briskly, though in silence. At last he said with an almost touching vagueness, “Well, I’m afraid you’ll think it so prosy. We always begin at the abstract end of things, and you can’t begin this story anywhere else.

“Esce tu ia nota esta a ante… ce persones responde nunca a lo cual on demanda? Los responde a lo cual on vole dise… o cual los pensa ce on vole dise. Suposa ce un dama dise a un otra en un casa campanial: ‘Esce algun resta con tu?’ la seniora no responde: ‘Si, la manejor de servores, tre laces, la servor fem etc.’ an si, posible, la servor fem es en la camera o la manejor de servores es pos la seja de la seniora. El dise, ‘No person resta con nos,’ volente dise ce no person de la spesie cual vos vole dise. Ma suposa, ce un dotor medical demanda sur epidemica: ‘Ci resta en la casa? alora la dama va recorda la manejor de servores, la servor fem e la otras. Tota lingua es usada como acel; on reseta nunca un responde leteral a demanda, an cuando on reseta un responde vera. Cuando acel cuatro omes intera onesta ia dise ce no om ia entra la casa, los no ia vole vera dise ce no om ia entra. Los ia vole dise no om sur ci los pote suspeta ce el es la om pertinente. Un om ia entra a en la casa, e ia sorti, ma los ia nota nunca el.”

“Have you ever noticed this—that people never answer what you say? They answer what you mean—or what they think you mean. Suppose one lady says to another in a country house, ‘Is anybody staying with you?’ the lady doesn’t answer ‘Yes; the butler, the three footmen, the parlourmaid, and so on,’ though the parlourmaid may be in the room, or the butler behind her chair. She says ‘There is nobody staying with us,’ meaning nobody of the sort you mean. But suppose a doctor inquiring into an epidemic asks, ‘Who is staying in the house?’ then the lady will remember the butler, the parlourmaid, and the rest. All language is used like that; you never get a question answered literally, even when you get it answered truly. When those four quite honest men said that no man had gone into the Mansions, they did not really mean that no man had gone into them. They meant no man whom they could suspect of being your man. A man did go into the house, and did come out of it, but they never noticed him.”

“Un om nonvidable?” - Angus ia demanda levante la se suprasiles roja. - “Un om mental nonvidable,” - Padre Brown ia dise.

“An invisible man?” inquired Angus, raising his red eyebrows. “A mentally invisible man,” said Father Brown.

Pos un o du minutos el ia continua con la mesma vose umil, como un om meditante en vose - “Natural, vos no pote imajina un tal om, asta cuando tu en fato imajina el. Acel es la se intelijentia. Ma me ia imajina el par causa de du o tre cosas peti en la nara, cual senior Angus ia nara a nos. Prima, on ia ave la fato ce esta Welkin ia emprende paseas longa. E alora on ia ave la cuantia vasta de paper de selos sur la fenetra. E alora, supra tota, on ia ave la du cosas cual la senioreta joven ia dise… cosas cual no ia pote es vera. No irita tu,” - el ia ajunta sin retarda, notante un move subita de la testa de la scotes; - “la fem ia pensa ce los es vera. Un person no pote es completa sola en un strada a un secondo ante cuando el reseta un letera. El no pote es completa solitar en un strada cuando el comensa leje un letera cual el veni de reseta. Algun debe es multe prosima a la fem; el debe es mental nonvidable.”

A minute or two after he resumed in the same unassuming voice, like a man thinking his way. “Of course you can’t think of such a man, until you do think of him. That’s where his cleverness comes in. But I came to think of him through two or three little things in the tale Mr. Angus told us. First, there was the fact that this Welkin went for long walks. And then there was the vast lot of stamp paper on the window. And then, most of all, there were the two things the young lady said—things that couldn’t be true. Don’t get annoyed,” he added hastily, noting a sudden movement of the Scotchman’s head; “she thought they were true. A person can’t be quite alone in a street a second before she receives a letter. She can’t be quite alone in a street when she starts reading a letter just received. There must be somebody pretty near her; he must be mentally invisible.”

“Perce algun debe es prosima a la fem?” - Angus ia demanda.

“Why must there be somebody near her?” asked Angus.

“Car,” - Padre Brown ia dise - “estra pijones-mesajores, algun ia debe trae la letera a el.”

“Because,” said Father Brown, “barring carrier-pigeons, somebody must have brought her the letter.”

“Esce tu vole vera dise” - Flambeau ia demanda con enerjia - “ce Welkin ia porta la leteras de se oposor a se dama?”

“Do you really mean to say,” asked Flambeau, with energy, “that Welkin carried his rival’s letters to his lady?”

“Si,” - la prete ia dise - “Welkin ia porta la leteras de se oposor a se dama. Vide, el ia debe.”

“Yes,” said the priest. “Welkin carried his rival’s letters to his lady. You see, he had to.”

“O, me no pote tolera multe plu de esta,” - Flambeau ia esplode - “Cual es esta om? Como el pare? Cual es la veste usual de un om mental nonvidable?”

“Oh, I can’t stand much more of this,” exploded Flambeau. “Who is this fellow? What does he look like? What is the usual get-up of a mentally invisible man?”

“El es vestida a alga grado bela en roja, blu, e oro,” - la prete ia responde rapida e con esatia, - “e en esta veste, notable e an dramosa, la om ia entra en la casa Himylaya ante oto oios umana; el ia mata Smythe con sangue fria, e, portante la corpo mor en se brasos, el ia desende denova a en la strada…”

“He is dressed rather handsomely in red, blue and gold,” replied the priest promptly with precision, “and in this striking, and even showy, costume he entered Himylaya Mansions under eight human eyes; he killed Smythe in cold blood, and came down into the street again carrying the dead body in his arms—”

“Senior onorable,” - Angus ia cria parante se - “esce tu es plen demente, o esce me es?”

“Reverend sir,” cried Angus, standing still, “are you raving mad, or am I?”

“Tu no es demente,” - Brown ia dise - “sola alga nonoservante. Per esemplo, tu no ia nota un om como esta.”

“You are not mad,” said Brown, “only a little unobservant. You have not noticed such a man as this, for example.”

El ia fa tre pasos rapida a ante e ia pone la mano sur la spala de un postor comun, cual, nonotada, ia pasa ja prosima a los su la ombra de la arbores.

He took three quick strides forward, and put his hand on the shoulder of an ordinary passing postman who had bustled by them unnoticed under the shade of the trees.

“Per alga razona no person nota postores,” - la om ia dise pensosa; - “ma los ave pasiones como otra omes, e an porta sacos grande do on pote intera fasil asconde un corpo mor peti.”

“Nobody ever notices postmen somehow,” he said thoughtfully; “yet they have passions like other men, and even carry large bags where a small corpse can be stowed quite easily.”

La postor, en loca de turna se natural, ia jiba ja se e ia cade ja contra la sepe jardinal. El ia es un om magra, con un barba blonde, de aspeta multe comun, ma en cuando el ia mostra un fas temosa a supra se spala, tota tre omes ia es regardada par un strabia cuasi vilin.

The postman, instead of turning naturally, had ducked and tumbled against the garden fence. He was a lean fair-bearded man of very ordinary appearance, but as he turned an alarmed face over his shoulder, all three men were fixed with an almost fiendish squint.

Flambeau ia revade a se sabres, a se tapetos purpur, e a se gato farsi, car el ia ave multe cosas per atende. John Turnbull Angus ia revade a la seniora en la boteca, con ci acel om joven nonatendente scemi per es estrema comfortosa. Ma Padre Brown ia pasea con un omisidor sur acel colinas covreda con neva, su la stelas, tra multe oras. E on va sabe nunca cual cosa la un ia dise a la otra.

Flambeau went back to his sabres, purple rugs and Persian cat, having many things to attend to. John Turnbull Angus went back to the lady at the shop, with whom that imprudent young man contrives to be extremely comfortable. But Father Brown walked those snow-covered hills under the stars for many hours with a murderer, and what they said to each other will never be known.