bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第48节
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Krook replies； “You might as well ask me to describe the ladies
whose heads of hair I have got in sacks downstairs。 Than that he
was my lodger for a year and a half； and lived—or didn’t live—by
law…writing； I know no more of him。”
During this dialogue； Mr Tulkinghorn has stood aloof by the old
portmanteau； with his hands behind him； equally removed； to all
appearance； from all three kinds of interest exhibited near the
bed—from the young surgeon’s professional interest in death；
noticeable as being quite apart from his remarks on the deceased
as an individual； from the old man’s unction； and the little crazy
woman’s awe。 His imperturbable face has been as inexpressive as
his rusty clothes。 One could not even say he has been thinking all
this while。 He has shown neither patience nor impatience； nor
attention nor abstraction。 He has shown nothing but his shell。 As
easily might the tone of a delicate musical instrument be inferred
from its case； as the tone of Mr Tulkinghorn from his case。
He now interposes； addressing the young surgeon； in his
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unmoved professional way。
“I looked in here；” he observes； “just before you； with the
intention of giving this deceased man； whom I never saw alive；
some employment at his trade of copying。 I had heard of him from
my stationer—Snagsby of Cook’s Court。 Since no one here knows
anything about him； it might be as well to send for Snagsby。 Ah！”
to the little crazy woman； who has often seen him in Court； and
whom he has often seen； and who proposes； in frightened dumb…
show； to go for the law stationer。 “Suppose you do！”
While she is gone； the surgeon abandons his hopeless
investigation； and covers its subject with the patchwork
counterpane。 Mr Krook and he interchange a word or two。 Mr
Tulkinghorn says nothing； but stands； ever； near the old…
portmanteau。
Mr Snabsby arrives hastily； in his grey coat and his black
sleeves。 “Dear me； dear me；” he says； “and it has come to this； has
it！ Bless my soul！”
“Can you give the person of the house any information about
this unfortunate creature； Snagsby？” inquires Mr Tulkinghorn。
“He was in arrears with his rent； it seems。 And he must be buried；
you know。”
“Well； sir；” says Mr Snagsby； coughing his apologetic cough
behind his hand； “I really don’t know what advice I could offer；
except sending for the beadle。”
“I don’t speak of advice；” returns Mr Tulkinghorn。 “I could
advise—”
（“No one better； sir； I am sure；” says Mr Snagsby； with his
deferential cough。）
“I speak of affording some clue to his connections； or to where
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he came from； or to anything concerning him。”
“I assure you； sir；” says Mr Snagsby； after prefacing his reply
with his cough of general propitiation； “that I no more know
where he came from； than I know—”
“Where he has gone to； perhaps；” suggests the surgeon； to help
him out。
A pause。 Mr Tulkinghorn looking at the law stationer。 Mr
Krook； with his mouth open； looking for somebody to speak next。
“As to his connections； sir；” says Mr Snagsby； “if a person was
to say to me； ‘Snagsby； here’s twenty thousand pound down； ready
for you in the Bank of England； if you’ll only name one of ’em；’ I
couldn’t do it； sir！ About a year and a half ago—to the best of my
belief at the time when he first came to lodge at the present Rag
and Bottle Shop—”
“That was the time！” says Krook； with a nod。
“About a year and a half ago；” says Mr Snagsby； strengthened；
“he came into our place one morning after breakfast； and； finding
my little woman （which I name Mrs Snagsby when I use that
appellation） in our shop； produced a specimen of his handwriting；
and gave her to understand that he was in wants of copying work
to do； and was—not to put too fine a point upon it—” a favourite
apology for plain…speaking with Mr Snagsby； which he always
offers with a sort of argumentative frankness； “hard up！ My little
woman is not in general partial to strangers； particular—not to put
too fine a point upon it—when they want anything。 But she was
rather took by something about this person； whether by his being
unshaved； or by his hair being in want of attention； or by what
other ladies’ reasons； I leave you to judge； and she accepted of the
specimen； and likewise of the address。 My little woman has’t a
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good ear for names；” proceeds Mr Snagsby； after consulting his
cough of consideration behind his hand； “and she considered
Nemo equally the same as Nimrod。 In consequence of which； she
got into a habit of saying to me at meals； ‘Mr Snagsby； you haven’t
found Nimrod any work yet？’ or ‘Mr Snagsby； why didn’t you give
that eight…and…thirty Chancery folio in Jarndyce； to Nimrod？’ or
such like。 And that is the way he gradually fell into job…work at our
place； and that is the most I know of him； except that he was a
quick hand； and a hand not sparing of night…work； and that if you
gave him out； say five…and…forty folio on the Wednesday night； you
would have it brought in on the Thursday morning。 All of which—
” Mr Snagsby concludes by politely motioning with his hat
towards the bed； as much as to add； “I have no doubt my
honourable friend would confirm； if he were in a condition to do
it。”
“Hadn’t you better see；” says Mr Tulkinghorn to Krook；
“whether he had any papers that may enlighten you？ There will
be an Inquest； and you will be asked the question。 You can read？”
“No； I can’t；” returns the old man； with a sudden grin。
“Snagsby；” says Mr Tulkinghorn； “look over the room for him。
He will get into some trouble or difficulty； otherwise。 Being here
I’ll wait； if you make haste； and then I can testify on his behalf； if it
should ever be necessary； that all was fair and right。 If you will
hold the candle for Mr Snagsby； my friend； he’ll soon see whether
there is anything to help you。”
“In the first place； here’s an old portmanteau； sir；” says
Snagsby。
Ah； to be sure； so there is！ Mr Tulkinghorn does not appear to
have seen it before； though he is standing so close to it； and though
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there is very little else； Heaven knows。
The marine…store merchant holds the light； and the law…
stationer conducts the search。 The surgeon leans against a corner
of the chimney…piece； Miss Flite peeps and trembles just within
the door。 The apt old scholar of the old school； with his dull black
breeches tied with ribbons at the knees； his large black waistcoat；
his long…sleeved black coat； and his wisp of limp white neckerchief
tied in the bow the Peerage knows so well； stands in exactly the
same place and attitude。
There are some worthless articles of clothing in the old
portmanteau； there is a bundle of pawnbrokers’ duplicates； those
turnpike tickets on the road of Poverty； there is a crumpled paper；
smelling of opium； on which are scrawled rough memoranda—as；
took； such a day； so many grains； took； such another day； so many
more—begun some time ago； as if with the intention of being
regularly continued； but soon left off。 There are
