Chapter 9 AN OFFER REFUSED 

It was rarely that Derek Kettering allowed his temper to get the better of him. An easygoing insouciance was his chief 

characteristic and it had stood him in good stead in more than one tight corner. Even now, by the time he had left Mirelle's flat, he had cooled down. He had need of coolness. The corner he was in now 

was a tighter one than he had ever been in before, and unforeseen factors had arisen with which, for the moment, he did not know how to deal. 

He strolled along deep in thought. His brow was furrowed, and there was none of the easy, jaunty manner which sat so well on him. Various possibilities floated trough his mind. It might have been said of Derek Kettering that he was less of a fool than he looked. He saw several roads that he might take - one in particular. If he shrank from it, it was for the moment only. 

Desperate ills need desperate remedies. He had gauged his father-in-law correctly. A war between Derek Kettering and Rufus Van Aldin could end only one way. Derek damned money and the power of money vehemently to himself. He walked up St James's Street, across Piccadilly, and strolled along it in the direction of Piccadilly Circus. As he passed the offices of Messrs. Thomas Cook & Sons his footsteps slackened. He walked on, however, still turning the matter over in his mind. Finally, he gave a brief nod of his head, turned sharply - so sharply as to collide with a couple of pedestrians who were following in his footsteps, and went back the way he had come. This time he did not pass Cook's, but went in. The office was comparatively empty, and he got attended to at once. 

"I want to go to Nice next week. Will you give me particulars?" 

"What date, sir?" 

"The 14th. What is the best train?" 

"Well, of course, the best train is what they call 'The Blue Train.' 

You avoid the tiresome Customs business at Calais." 

Derek nodded. He knew all this, none better. 

"The 14th," murmured the clerk, "that is rather soon. The Blue Train is nearly always all booked up." 

"See if there is a berth left," said Derek. 

"If there is not -" He left the sentence unfinished with a curious smile on his face. 

The clerk disappeared for a few minutes, and presently returned. 

"That is all right, sir; still three berths left. I will book you one of them. What name?" 

"Pavett," said Derek. He gave the address of his rooms in Jermyn Street. 

The clerk nodded, finished writing it down, wished Derek good morning politely, and turned his attention to the next client. 

"I want to go to Nice - on the 14th. Isn't there a train called the Blue Train?" 

Derek looked round sharply. 

Coincidence - a strange coincidence. He remembered his own half-whimsical words to Mirelle, "Portrait of a lady with grey eyes. I don't suppose I shall ever see her again." But he had seen her again, and, what was more, she proposed to travel to the Riviera on the same day as he did. 

Just for a moment a shiver passed over him; in some ways he was superstitious. He had said, half-laughingly, that this woman might bring him bad luck. Suppose - suppose that should prove to be true. From the doorway he looked back at her as she stood talking to the clerk. For once his memory had not played him false. A lady 

-a lady in every sense of the word. Not very young, not singularly beautiful. But with something - grey eyes that might perhaps see too much. He knew as he went out of the door that in some way he was afraid of this woman. He had a sense of fatality. 

He went back to his rooms in Jermyn Street and summoned his man. 

"Take this cheque, Pavett, cash it first thing in the morning, and go around to Cook's in Piccadilly. They will have some tickets there booked in your name, pay for them, and bring them back." 

"Very good, sir." 

Pavett withdrew. 

Derek strolled over to a side-table and picked up a handful of letters. They were of a type only too familiar. Bills, small bills and large bills, one and all pressing for payment. 

The tone of the demands was still polite. 

Derek knew how soon that polite tone would change if - if certain news became public property. 

He flung himself moodily into a large leather-covered chair. A damned hole - that was what he was in. Yes, a damned hole! 

And ways of getting out of that damned hole were not too promising. 

Pavett appeared with a discreet cough. 

"A gentleman to see you - sir - Major Knighton." 

"Knighton, eh?" 

Derek sat up, frowned, became suddenly alert. He said in a softer tone, almost to himself: 

"Knighton - I wonder what is in the wind now?" 

"Shall I - er - show him in, sir?" 

His master nodded. When Knighton entered the room he found a charming and genial host awaiting him. 

"Very good of you to look me up," said Derek. 

Knighton was nervous. 

The other's keen eyes noticed that at once. 

The errand on which the secretary had come was clearly distasteful to him. He replied almost mechanically to Derek's easy flow of conversation. He declined a drink, and, if anything, his manner became stiffer than before. 

Derek appeared at last to notice it. 

"Well," he said cheerfully, "what does my esteemed father-in-law want with me? You have come on his business, I take it?" 

Knighton did not smile in reply. 

"I have, yes," he said carefully. "I - I wish Mr Van Aldin had chosen someone else." 

Derek raised his eyebrows in mock dismay. 

"Is it as bad as all that? I am not very thin skinned, I can assure you, Knighton." 

"No," said Knighton, "but this -" 

He paused. 

Derek eyed him keenly. 

"Go on, out with it," he said kindly. "I can imagine my dear father- in-law's errands might not always be pleasant ones." 

Knighton cleared his throat. He spoke formally in tones that he strove to render free of embarrassment. 

"I am directed by Mr Van Aldin to make you a definite offer." 

"An offer?" For a moment Derek showed his surprise. Knighton's opening words were clearly not what he had expected. He offered a cigarette to Knighton, lit one himself, and sank back in his chair, murmuring in a slightly sardonic voice: 

"An offer? That sounds rather interesting." 

"Shall I go on?" 

"Please. You must forgive my surprise, but it seems to me that my dear father-in-law has rather climbed down since our chat this morning. And climbing down is not what one associates with strong men. Napoleons of finance, etc. It shows - I think it shows that he finds his position weaker than he thought it." 

Knighton listened politely to the easy, mocking voice, but no sign of any kind showed itself on his rather stolid countenance. 

He waited until Derek had finished, and then he said quietly: 

"I will state the proposition in the fewest possible words." 

Knighton did not look at the other. His voice was curt and matter- of-fact. 

"The matter is simply this. Mrs Kettering, as you know, is about to file a petition for divorce. If the case goes undefended you will receive one hundred thousand on the day that the decree is made absolute." 

Derek, in the act of lighting his cigarette, suddenly stopped dead. 

"A hundred thousand!" he said sharply. "Dollars?" 

"Pounds." 

There was dead silence for at least two minutes. Kettering had his brows together linking. A hundred thousand pounds. It meant Mirelle and a continuance of his pleasant, carefree life. It meant that Van Aldin knew something. Van Aldin did not pay for nothing. He got up and stood by the chimney-piece. 

"And in the event of my refusing his handsome offer?" he asked, with a cold, ironical politeness. 

Knighton made a deprecating gesture. 

"I can assure you, Mr Kettering," he said earnestly, "that it is with the utmost unwillingness that I came here with this message." 

"That's all right," said Kettering. "Don't distress yourself; it's not your fault. Now then - I asked you a question, will you answer it?" 

Knighton also rose. He spoke more reluctantly than before. 

"In the event of your refusing this proposition," he said, "Mr Van Aldin wished me to tell you in plain words that he proposes to break you. Just that." 

Kettering raised his eyebrows, but he retained his light, amused manner. 

"Well, well!" he said, "I suppose he can do it. I certainly should not be able to put up much of a fight against America's man of millions. A hundred thousand! If you are going to bribe a man there is nothing like doing it thoroughly. Supposing I were to tell you that for two hundred thousand I'd do what he wanted, what then?" 

"I would take your message back to Mr Van Aldin," said Knighton unemotionally. "Is that your answer?" 

"No," said Derek, "funnily enough it is not. You can go back to my father-in-law and tell him to take himself and his bribes to hell. Is that clear?" 

"Perfectly," said Knighton. He got up, hesitated, and then flushed. 

"I - you will allow me to say, Mr Kettering, that I am glad you have answered as you have." 

Derek did not reply. When the other had left the room he remained for a minute or two lost in thought. A curious smile came to his lips. 

"And that is that," he said softly. 

第九章 拒绝贿赂

    德里克·凯特林很少受情绪的支配。他那可笑的无忧无虑的神态在很多场合下帮助他解脱过困境。离开米蕾的公寓不久，他就很快变成了另一个人：勇敢而无所畏惧。经过冷静的思索之后，他又感到很困倦。这是他有生以来最为困难的时刻，一些从未料的因素已经出现了，而解决这些难题的对策还没有着落。

    他深思默想，在街上踱步。有时脑海里浮现出解决难题的一些办法。德里克·凯特林并不是愚蠢的人。有很多办法可以使他摆脱困境，但可以走得通的只有一条路。人既然得了重病，就不能拒绝服用哪怕是危险的药物。他非常了解自己的岳父。他在同他的较量中决不能有片刻的犹豫。当走到考瑞克旅行社的时候，他放慢了脚步，但是没有进去。他还在思忖着。突然之间他猛一转身走进了旅行社。旅行社里人很少，很快就有人来关照他。

    “下周我要去尼扎。”

    “哪一天？”

    “十四号。哪次车最好？”

    “当然是‘蓝色特快’。坐这次车在加来可以免去海关的很多麻烦。”

    德里克点了一下头。他对此当然都很了解。

    “十四号，”职员说，“晚了，‘蓝色特快’的票常常在很多天之前就售完了。”

    “请您再看一下，是否还有卧铺。”德里克说，“是否还有可能……”他没有把话说完，古怪地笑了一下。

    职员走进办公室，几分钟之后就回来了。

    “好的，有三个位置还空着。我可以给您订一个，您贵姓？”

    “帕维特。”德里克说道。并把地址写给了他。

    职员又去照顾旁边的一位女士。

    “我想在十四号那天去尼扎，听说有一次‘蓝色特快’的列车。”

    德里克回过头来。偶然，真是少有的偶然！他与米蕾开玩笑时说的话又涌现在他的脑海里。“一双蓝眼睛女人的肖像”。“我再不想见到她。”可是现在又一次见到了她，不仅如此，她还将同他一起到利维埃拉。

    这种罕见的邂逅相遇确有些奇怪，而且带有点神秘色彩。那时他笑着说，这个女人可能给他带来不幸。真会这样吗？来到门口他又回头看了她一眼。这是一位女士，真正的女士。不算年轻，也谈不上漂亮，长着一双蓝色的眼睛。从的表情看，她似乎能够看透周围的一切。在这个女士面前，他仿佛产生了恐惧的心理。似乎有一种宿命的成分隐藏在他的灵魂里。

    他回到自己的住处对仆人说道：

    “请把这张支票况换一下，然后到考瑞克旅行社去取一张火车票，那是我以您的名字帕维特订购的。”

    “是的，先生。”

    帕维特走了。

    德里克走到写字台跟前，看看那里放着的邮件。不用看，他就知道，除了帐单还是帐单。但是催帐的口气还是很有礼貌的。他很了解，一旦那个新闻传播出去，这种有礼貌的口吻立刻就会发生变化。

    他有气无力地坐在靠椅上。他的处境从来没有象现在这样尴尬。解脱这种困境的出路到目前为止还无从说起。

    帕维特回来了，呼哧呼哧地喘着。

    “有位先生想见您，奈顿少校先生。”

    “奈顿？”德里克猛地站起，皱了一下眉头，做了个鬼脸。“奈顿？这又意味着什么呢？”

    “要把他带来见您吗，先生？”

    德里克点了一下头。奈顿进来了，他发现凯特林很可亲，情绪看来也很好。

    “对您的拜访我感到非常高兴。”德里克说道。

    奈顿显得有点神经质。德里克那敏锐的眼光立即就发现了这一点。这位秘书要完成的使命显然是很棘手的。他只是木然地应付着德里克那些漫无边际的闲谈。给他一杯利口酒，他也不喝，举止拘泥而又生硬。德里克最后只好单刀直入了。

“好吧，”他痛快地说：“我那可爱的岳父大人要对我说些什么吧？您恐怕是带着他的使命来找我的吧？”

    “是的，”奈顿严肃地说，“冯·阿尔丁先生如果派别人来就好了。”

    “没有那么可怕吧？我向您保证，我的脸皮很厚。”

    奈顿清了一下嗓子。

    “我受委托向您说明冯·阿尔丁先生给您的一笔费用。”

    “一笔费用？”德里克虽然很坦然，但也感到有点出乎意料。可是他很快就恢复了自持力，递给奈顿一支烟，自己也点燃了一支，然后用他那常有的嘲弄的口吻说道：

    “一笔费用？这简直是太有意思了。”

    “我是否继续往下讲？”

    “请便。我感到，我那可爱的岳父好象是从我们今晨谈话时的立场向后退了一点。

可能他意识到，他的处境并不象他自己认为的那样有利。”

    奈顿继续说道：

    “事情很简单：正象您所说的那样，凯特林夫人已经决定提出同您离婚。在她上诉的时候，如果您不提出反诉，那么在判决离婚的那一天，您将得到一笔数目为十万的费用。”

    德里克把点香烟的火柴随便扔到地板上。

    “十万，美元吗？”

    “英镑。”

    屋内罩着一片寂静。凯特林皱起眉头深思。十万英镑！这将使他和米蕾无忧无虑的生活得以继续下去。另外，这还说明，冯·阿尔丁已经从他女儿那里获悉了一点内情。

否则他才不会平白无故地拿出这么多的钱来呢！

    德里克站起来，倚靠在壁炉旁。

    “可是，如果我不接受这笔慷慨的款项呢？”他用一种冷淡而嘲弄的口气问道。

    “凯特林先生，我向您坦白地说。”奈顿认真地说，“派我来充当这个差使，使我的处境很尴尬。”

    “您与此事是无关的，您也并不知道其中之奥妙。现在我向您询问一个问题，请您给予明确的回答。”

    奈顿也站了起来，颇为吃力地说道：

    “冯·阿尔丁先生明确地对我说，如果您不接受这笔款项，那么他就要除掉您。”

    凯特林听了这句话并没有惊慌害怕，反而轻松愉快地说道：

    “噢，噢，我并不怀疑他会施展他的这种伎俩。如今，有钱能使鬼推磨。十万英镑！如果我愿意的话，可以用它来要挟我。但是我若是提出要二十万英镑呢？那会怎样？”

    “那我将向我的主人汇报。可以认为这是您的回答吗？”奈顿反问道。

    “不！”德里克说，“可笑的是您理解错了。您可以告诉我的岳父：让他把这笔贿赂金送给鬼去吧！明白吗？”

    “完全明白。”奈顿说，他站起来犹豫了一下，脸面涨红起来。补充说，“如果您允许我表示一下话，我可以说：凯特林先生，我非常高兴您这样回答，而不是另一种回答。”

    德里克没吱声。当谈话的对方离开屋子之后，他还倚靠在炉旁站了一会。嘴边上挂着一丝微笑。

    “事情就这样解决了。”他喃喃地说道。