if.liveandletdie-第18节

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　Bond　took　the　wedges　from　him。　'But。。。'
　'Cain't　help　yuh　no　more；　Sah；'　said　the　negro　with　finality；　his　hand　on　the　door。　'Ef　yuh　ring　fo　me　dis　evenin'；　Ah'll　fetch　yo　dinner。　Doan　yuh　go　lettin'　any　person　else　in　the　room。'
　His　hand　came　out　to　take　the　twenty…dollar　bill。　He　crumpled　it　into　his　pocket。
　'Ah'll　do　all　Ah　can；　Sah；'　he　said。　'But　dey'll　git　me　ef　Ah　don'　watch　it。　Sho　will。'　He　went　out　and　quickly　shut　the　door　behind　him。
　Bond　thought　for　a　moment　then　he　opened　the　municating　door。　Solitaire　was　reading。
　'He's　fixed　everything；'　he　said。　'Took　a　long　time　about　it。　Wanted　to　tell　me　all　his　life…story　as　well。　I'll　keep　out　of　your　way　until　you've　climbed　up　to　your　nest。　Call　me　when　you're　ready。'
　He　sat　down　next　door　in　the　seat　she　had　left　and　watched　the　grim　suburbs　of　Philadelphia　showing　their　sores；　like　beggars；　to　the　rich　train。
　No　object　in　frightening　her　until　it　had　to　be。　But　the　new　threat　had　e　sooner　than　he　expected；　and　her　danger　if　the　watcher　on　the　train　discovered　her　identity　would　be　as　great　as　his。
　She　called　and　he　went　in。
　The　room　was　in　darkness　save　for　his　bed…light；　which　she　had　turned　on。
　'Sleep　well；'　she　said。
　Bond　got　out　of　his　coat。　He　quietly　slipped　the　wedges　firmly　under　both　doors。　Then　he　lay　down　carefully　on　his　right　side　on　the　fortable　bed　and　without　a　thought　for　the　future　fell　into　a　deep　sleep；　lulled　by　the　pounding　gallop　of　the　train。
　
　A　few　cars　away；　in　the　deserted　diner；　a　negro　waiter　read　again　what　he　had　written　on　a　telegraph　blank　and　waited　for　the　ten…minute　stop　at　Philadelphia。
　
　CHAPTER　XI
　ALLUMEUSE
　
　THE　crack　train　thundered　on　through　the　bright　afternoon　towards　the　south。　They　left　Pennsylvania　behind；　and　Maryland。　There　came　a　long　halt　at　Washington；　where　Bond　heard　through　his　dreams　the　measured　clang　of　the　warning　bells　on　the　shunting　engines　and　the　soft　think…speak　of　the　public…address　system　on　the　station。　Then　on　into　Virginia。　Here　the　air　was　already　softer　and　the　dusk；　only　five　hours　away　from　the　bright　frosty　breath　of　New　York；　smelled　almost　of　spring。
　An　occasional　group　of　negroes；　walking　home　from　the　fields；　would　hear　the　distant　rumble　on　the　silent　sighing　silver　rails　and　one　would　pull　out　his　watch　and　consult　it　and　announce；　'Hyah　es　da　Phantom。　Six　o'clock。　Guess　ma　watch　is　right　on　time。'
　'Sho　nuff；'　one　of　the　others　would　say　as　the　great　beat　of　the　Diesels　came　nearer　and　the　lighted　coaches　streaked　past　and　on　towards　North　Carolina。
　They　awoke　around　seven　to　the　hasty　ting　of　a　grade…crossing　alarm　bell　as　the　big　train　nosed　its　way　out　of　the　fields　into　the　suburbs　of　Raleigh。　Bond　pulled　the　wedges　from　under　the　doors　before　he　turned　on　the　lights　and　rang　for　the　attendant。
　He　ordered　dry　Martinis　and　when　the　two　little　'personalized'　bottles　appeared　with　the　glasses　and　the　ice　they　seemed　so　inadequate　that　he　at　once　ordered　four　more。
　They　argued　over　the　menu。　The　fish　was　described　as　being　'Made　From　Flaky　Tender　Boneless　Filets'　and　the　chicken　as　'Delicious　French　Fried　to　a　Golden　Brown；　Served　Disjointed'。
　'Eyewash；'　said　Bond；　and　they　finally　ordered　scrambled　eggs　and　bacon　and　sausages；　a　salad；　and　some　of　the　domestic　Camembert　that　is　one　of　the　most　wele　surprises　on　American　menus。
　It　was　nine　o'clock　when　Baldwin　came　to　clear　the　dishes　away。　He　asked　if　there　was　anything　else　they　wanted。
　Bond　had　been　thinking。　'What　time　do　we　get　into　Jacksonville？'　he　asked。
　'Aroun'　five　'n　the　morning；　Suh。'
　'Is　there　a　subway　on　the　platform？'
　'Yassuh。　Dis　cyar　stops　right　alongside。'
　'Gould　you　have　the　door　open　and　the　steps　down　pretty　quick？'
　The　negro　smiled。　'Yassuh。　Ah　kin　take　good　care　of　that。'
　Bond　slipped　him　a　ten…dollar　bill。　'Just　in　case　I　miss　you　when　we　arrive　in　St。　Petersburg；'　he　said。
　The　negro　grinned。　'Ah　greatly　preeshiate　yo　kindness；　Suh。　Good　night；　Suh。　Good　night；　Mam。'
　He　went　out　and　closed　the　door。
　Bond　got　up　and　pushed　the　wedges　firmly　under　the　two　doors。
　'I　see；'　said　Solitaire。　'So　it's　like　that。'
　'Yes；'　said　Bond。　'I'm　afraid　so。'　He　told　her　of　the　warning　he　had　had　from　Baldwin。
　'I'm　not　surprised；'　said　the　girl　when　he　had　finished。　'They　must　have　seen　you　ing　into　the　station。　He's　got　a　whole　team　of　spies　called　〃The　Eyes〃　and　when　they're　put　out　on　a　job　it's　almost　impossible　to　get　by　them。　I　wonder　who　he's　got　on　the　train。　You　can　be　certain　it's　a　negro；　either　a　Pullman　attendant　or　someone　in　the　diner。　He　can　make　these　people　do　absolutely　anything　he　likes。'
　'So　it　seems；'　said　Bond。　'But　how　does　it　work？　What's　he　got　on　them？'
　She　looked　out　of　the　window　into　the　tunnel　of　darkness　through　which　the　lighted　train　was　burning　its　thundering　path。　Then　she　looked　back　across　the　table　into　the　cool　wide　grey…blue　eyes　of　the　English　agent。　She　thought：　how　can　one　explain　to　someone　with　that　certainty　of　spirit；　with　that　background　of　mon　sense；　brought　up　with　clothes　and　shoes　among　the　warm　houses　and　the　lighted　streets？　How　can　one　explain　to　someone　who　hasn't　lived　close　to　the　secret　heart　of　the　tropics；　at　the　mercy　of　their　anger　and　stealth　and　poison；　who　hasn't　experienced　the　mystery　of　the　drums；　seen　the　quick　workings　of　magic　and　the　mortal　dread　it　inspires？　What　can　he　know　of　catalepsy；　and　thought…transference　and　the　sixth　sense　of　fish；　of　birds；　of　negroes；　the　deadly　meaning　of　a　white　chicken's　feather；　a　crossed　stick　in　the　road；　a　little　leather　bag　of　bones　and　herbs？　What　of　Mialism；　of　shadow…taking；　of　the　death　by　swelling　and　the　death　by　wasting？
　She　shivered　and　a　whole　host　of　dark　memories　clustered　round　her。　Above　all；　she　remembered　that　first　time　in　the　Houmfor　where　her　black　nurse　had　once　taken　her　as　a　child。　'It　do　yuh　no　harm；　Missy。　Dis　powerful　good　juju。　Care　fe　yuh　res　'f　yo　life。'　And　the　disgusting　old　man　and　the　filthy　drink　he　had　given　her。　How　her　nurse　had　held　her　jaws　open　until　she　had　drunk　the　last　drop　and　how　she　had　lain　awake　screaming　every　night　for　a　week。　And　how　her　nurse　had　been　worried　and　then　suddenly　she　had　slept　all　right　until；　weeks　later；　shifting　on　her　pillow；　she　had　felt　something　hard　and　had　dug　it　out　from　the　pillow…case；　a　dirty　little　packet　of　muck。　She　had　thrown　it　out　of　the　window；　but　in　the　morning　she　could　not　find　it。　She　had　continued　to　sleep　well　and　she　knew　it　must　have　been　found　by　the　nurse　and　secreted　somewhere　under　the　floorboards。
　Years　later；　she　had　found　out　about　the　Voodoo　drink　…a　concoction　of　rum；　gunpowder；　grave…dirt　and　human　blood。　She　almost　retched　as　the　taste　came　back　to　her　mouth。
　What　could　this　man　know　of　these　things　or　of　her　half…belief　in　them？
　She　looked　up　and　found　Bond's　eyes　fixed　quizzically　on　her。
　'You're　thinking　I　shan't　understand；'　he　said。　'And　you're　right　up　to　a　point。　But　I　know　what　fear　can　do　to　people　and　I　know　that　fear　can　be　caused　by　many　things。　I've　read　most　of　the　books　on　Voodoo　and　I　believe　that　it　works。　I　don't　think　it　would　work　on　me　because　I　stopped　being　afraid　of　the　dark　when　I　was　a　child　and　I'm　not　a　good　subject　for　suggestion　or　hypnotism。　But　I　know　the　jargon　and　you　needn't　think　I　shall　laugh　at　it。　The　scientists　and　doctors　who　wrote　the　books　don't　laugh　at　it。'
　Solitaire　smiled。　'All　right；'　she　said。　'Then　all　I　need　tell　you　is　that　they　believe　The　Big　Man　is　the　Zombie　of　Baron　Samedi。　Zombies　are　bad　enough　by　themselves。　They're　animated　corpses　that　have　been　made　to　rise　from　the　dead　and　obey　the　mands　of　the　person　who　controls　them。　Baron　Samedi　is　the　most　dreadful　spirit　in　the　whole　of　Voodooism。　He　is　the　spirit　of　darkness　and　death。　So　for　Baron　Samedi　to　be　in　control　of　his　own　Zombie　is　a　very　dreadful　conception。　You　know　what　Mr。　Big　looks　like。　He　is　huge　and　grey　and　he　has　great　psychic　power。　It　is　not　difficult　for　a　negro　to　believe　that　he　is　a　Zombie　and　a　very　bad　one　at　that。　The　step　to　Baron　Samedi　is　simple。　Mr。　Big　encourages　the　idea　by　having　the　Baron's　fetish　at　his　elbow。　You　saw　it　in　his　room。'
　She　paused。　She　went　on　quickly；　almost　breathlessly：　'And　I　can　tell　you　that　it　works　and　that　there's　hardly　a　negro　who　has　seen　him　and　heard　the　story　who　doesn't　believe　it　and　who　doesn't　regard　him　with　plete　and　absolute　dread。　And　they　are　right；'　she　added。　'And　you　would　say　so　too　if　you　knew　the　way　he　deals　with　those　who　haven't　obeyed　him　pletely；　the　way　they　are　tortured　and　killed。'
　'Where　does　Moscow　e　in？'　asked　Bond。　'Is　it　true　he's　an　agent　of　SMERSH？'
　'I　don't　know　what　SMERSH　is；'　said　the　girl；　'but　I　know　he　works　for　Russia；　at　least　I've　heard　him　talking　Russian　to　people　who　e　from　time　to　time。　Occasionally　he's　had　me　in　to　that　room　and　asked　me　afterwards　what　I　thought　of　his　visitors。　Generally　it　seemed　to　me　they　were　telling　the　truth　although　I　couldn't　understand　what　they　said。　But　don't　forget　I've　only　known　him　for　a　year　and　he's　fantastically　secretive。　If　Moscow　does　use　him　they've　got　hold　of　one　of　the　most　powerful　men　in　America。　He　can　find　out　almost　anything