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雙語·摸彩:雪莉·杰克遜短篇小說選 疑神疑鬼

所屬教程:譯林版·摸彩:雪莉·杰克遜短篇小說選

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2022年06月03日

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掃描二維碼方便學習和分享

Paranoia

Mr. Halloran Beresford, pleasantly tired after a good day in the office, still almost clean-shaven after eight hours, his pants still neatly pressed, pleased with himself particularly for remembering, stepped out of the candy shop with a great box under his arm and started briskly for the corner. There were twenty small-size gray suits like Mr. Beresford's on every New York block, fifty men still clean-shaven and pressed after a day in an air-cooled office, a hundred small men, perhaps, pleased with themselves for remembering their wives' birthdays. Mr. Beresford was going to take his wife out to dinner, he decided, going to see if he could get last-minute tickets to a show, taking his wife candy. It had been an exceptionally good day, altogether, and Mr. Beresford walked along swiftly, humming musically to himself.

He stopped on the corner, wondering whether he would save more time by taking a bus or by trying to catch a taxi in the crowd. It was a long trip downtown, and Mr. Beresford ordinarily enjoyed the quiet half hour on top of a Fifth Avenue bus, perhaps reading his paper. He disliked the subway intensely, and found the public display and violent exercise necessary to catch a taxi usually more than he was equal to. However, tonight he had spent a lot of time waiting in line in the candy store to get his wife's favorite chocolates, and if he was going to get home before dinner was on the table he really had to hurry a little.

Mr. Beresford went a few steps into the street, waved at a taxi, said “Taxi!” in a voice that went helplessly into a falsetto, and slunk back, abashed, to the sidewalk while the taxi went by uncomprehending. A man in a light hat stopped next to Mr. Beresford on the sidewalk, and for a minute, in the middle of the crowd, he stared at Mr. Beresford and Mr. Beresford stared at him as people sometimes do without caring particularly what they see. What Mr. Beresford saw was a thin face under the light hat, a small mustache, a coat collar turned up. Funny-looking guy, Mr. Beresford thought, lightly touching his own clean-shaven lip. Perhaps the man thought Mr. Beresford's almost unconscious gesture was offensive; at any rate he frowned and looked Mr. Beresford up and down before he turned away. Ugly customer, Mr. Beresford thought.

The Fifth Avenue bus Mr. Beresford usually took came slipping up to the corner, and Mr. Beresford, pleased not to worry about a taxi, started for the stop. He had reached out his hand to take the rail inside the bus door when he was roughly elbowed aside and the ugly customer in the light hat shoved on ahead of him. Mr. Beresford muttered and started to follow, but the bus door closed on the packed crowd inside, and the last thing Mr. Beresford saw as the bus went off down the street was the man in the light hat grinning at him from inside the door.

“There's a dirty trick,” Mr. Beresford told himself, settling his shoulders irritably in his coat. Still under the influence of his annoyance, he ran a few steps out into the street and waved again at a taxi, not trusting his voice, and was almost run down by a delivery truck. As Mr. Beresford skidded back to the sidewalk the truck driver leaned out and yelled something unrecognizable at Mr. Beresford, and when Mr. Beresford saw the people around him on the corner laughing he decided to start walking downtown; in two blocks he would reach another bus stop, a good corner for taxis, and a subway station; much as Mr. Beresford disliked the subway, he might still have to take it, to get home in any sort of time. Walking downtown, his candy box under his arm, his gray suit almost unaffected by the crush on the corner, Mr. Beresford decided to swallow his annoyance and remember that it was his wife's birthday; he began to hum again as he walked.

He watched the people as he walked along, his perspective sharpened by being a man who had just succeeded in forgetting an annoyance; surely the girl in the very high-heeled shoes, coming toward him with a frown on her face, was not so able to put herself above petty trifles, or maybe she was frowning because of the shoes; the old lady and man looking at the shop windows were quarreling. The funny-looking guy in the light hat coming quickly through the crowd looked as though he hated someone... the funny-looking guy in the light hat; Mr. Beresford turned clean around in the walking line of people and watched the man in the light hat turn abruptly and start walking downtown, about ten feet in back of Mr. Beresford. What do you know about that? Mr. Beresford marveled, and began to walk a little more quickly. Probably got off the bus for some reason; wrong bus, maybe. Then why would he start walking uptown instead of catching another bus where he was? Mr. Beresford shrugged and passed two girls walking together and talking both at once.

Halfway from the corner he wanted, Mr. Beresford realized with a sort of sick shock that the man in the light hat was at his elbow, walking steadily along next to him. Mr. Beresford turned his head the other way and slowed his step. The other man slowed down as well, without looking at Mr. Beresford.

Nonsense, Mr. Beresford thought, without troubling to work it out any further than that. He settled his candy box firmly under his arm and cut abruptly across the uptown line of people and into a shop; a souvenir and notions shop, he realized as he came through the door. There were a few people inside—a woman and a little girl, a sailor—and Mr. Beresford retired to the far end of the counter and began to fuss with an elaborate cigarette box on which was written SOUVENIR OF NEW YORK CITY, with the Trylon and the perisphere painted beneath.

“Isn't this cute?” the mother said to the little girl, and they both began to laugh enormously over the match holder made in the form of a toilet; the matches were to go in the bowl, and on the cover, Mr. Beresford could see, were the Trylon and the perisphere, with SOUVENIR OF NEW YORK CITY written above.

The man in the light hat came into the shop, and Mr. Beresford turned his back and busied himself picking up one thing after another from the counter; with half his mind he was trying to find something that did not say SOUVENIR OF NEW YORK CITY and with the other half of his mind he was wondering about the man in the light hat. The question of what the man in the light hat wanted was immediately subordinate to the question of whom he wanted; if his light-hatted designs were against Mr. Beresford they must be nefarious, else why had he not announced them before now? The thought of accosting the man and demanding his purpose crossed Mr. Beresford's mind fleetingly, and was succeeded, as always in an equivocal situation, by Mr. Beresford's vivid recollection of his own small size and innate cautiousness. Best, Mr. Beresford decided, to avoid this man. Thinking this, Mr. Beresford walked steadily toward the doorway of the shop, intending to pass the man in the light hat and go out and catch his bus home.

He had not quite reached the man in the light hat when the shop's clerk came around the end of the counter and met Mr. Beresford with a genial smile and a vehement “See anything you like, mister?”

“Not tonight, thanks,” Mr. Beresford said, moving left to avoid the clerk, but the clerk moved likewise and said, “Got some nice things you didn't look at.”

“No, thanks,” Mr. Beresford said, trying to make his tenor voice firm.

“Take a look,” the clerk insisted. This was unusually persistent even for such a clerk; Mr. Beresford looked up and saw the man in the light hat on his right, bearing down on him. Over the shoulders of the two men he could see that the shop was empty. The street looked very far away, the people passing in either direction looked smaller and smaller; Mr. Beresford realized that he was being forced to step backward as the two men advanced on him.

“Easy does it,” the man in the light hat said to the clerk. They continued to move forward slowly.

“See here now,” Mr. Beresford said, with the ineffectuality of the ordinary man caught in such a crisis; he still clutched his box of candy under his arm. “See here,” he said, feeling the solid weight of the wall behind him.

“Ready,” the man in the light hat said. The two men tensed, and Mr. Beresford, with a wild yell, broke between them and ran for the door. He heard a sound more like a snarl than anything else behind him and the feet coming after him. I'm safe on the street, Mr. Beresford thought as he went through the door into the line of people; as long as there are lots of people, they can't do anything to me. He looked back, walking downtown between a fat woman with many packages and a girl and a boy leaning on each other's shoulders, and he saw the clerk standing in the doorway of the shop looking after him; the man in the light hat was not in sight. Mr. Beresford shifted the box of candy so that his right arm was free, and thought, Perfectly silly. It's still broad daylight. How they ever hoped to get away with it ....

The man in the light hat was on the corner ahead, waiting. Mr. Beresford hesitated in his walk and then thought, It's preposterous, all these people watching. He walked boldly down the street; the man in the light hat was not even watching him, but was leaning calmly against a building lighting a cigarette. Mr. Beresford reached the corner, darted quickly into the street, and yelled boisterously “Taxi!” in a great voice he had never suspected he possessed until now. A taxi stopped as though not daring to disregard that great shout, and Mr. Beresford moved gratefully toward it. His hand was on the door handle when another hand closed over his, and Mr. Beresford was aware of the light hat brushing his cheek.

“Come on if you're coming,” the taxi driver said; the door was open, and Mr. Beresford, resisting the push that urged him into the taxi, slipped his hand out from under the other hand and ran back to the sidewalk. A crosstown bus had stopped on the corner, and Mr. Beresford, no longer thinking, hurried onto it, dropped a nickel into the coin register, and went to the back of the bus and sat down. The man in the light hat sat a little ahead, between Mr. Beresford and the door. Mr. Beresford put his box of candy on his lap and tried to think. Obviously the man in the light hat was not carrying a grudge all this time about Mr. Beresford's almost unconscious gesture toward his mustache, unless he was peculiarly sensitive. In any case, there was also the clerk in the souvenir shop; Mr. Beresford realized suddenly that the clerk in the souvenir shop was a very odd circumstance indeed. Mr. Beresford set the clerk aside to think about later and went back to the man in the light hat. If it was not the insult to the mustache, what was it? And then another thought caught Mr. Beresford breathless: How long, then, had the man in the light hat been following him? He thought back along the day: He had left his office with a group of people, all talking cheerfully, all reminding Mr. Beresford that it was his wife's birthday; they had escorted Mr. Beresford to the candy shop and left him there. He had been in his office all day except for lunch with three fellows in the office; Mr. Beresford's mind leaped suddenly from the lunch to his first sight of the man in the light hat at the bus stop; it seemed that the man in the light hat had been trying to push him onto the bus and into the crowd, instead of pushing in ahead. In that case, once he was on the bus... Mr. Beresford looked around. In the bus he was riding on now there were only five people left. One was the driver, one Mr. Beresford, one the man in the light hat, sitting slightly ahead of Mr. Beresford. The two others were an old lady with a shopping bag and a man who looked as though he might be a foreigner. Foreigner, Mr. Beresford thought, while he looked at the man, Foreigner, foreign plot, spies. Better not rely on any foreigner, Mr. Beresford thought.

The bus was going swiftly along between high dark buildings. Mr. Beresford, looking out the window, decided that they were in a factory district, remembered that they had been going east, and decided to wait until they got to one of the lighted, busy sections before he tried to get off. Peering off into the growing darkness, Mr. Beresford noticed an odd thing. There had been someone standing on the corner beside a sign saying BUS STOP and the bus had not stopped, even though the dim figure waved its arms. Surprised, Mr. Beresford glanced up at the street sign, noticing that it said E. 31 ST. at the same moment he reached for the cord to signal the driver that he wanted to get off. As he stood up and went down the aisle, the foreign-looking man rose also and went to the door beside the driver. “Getting off,” the foreign man said, and the bus slowed. Mr. Beresford pressed forward, and somehow the old lady's shopping bag got in his way and spilled, sending small items, a set of blocks, a package of paper clips, spilling in all directions.

“Sorry,” Mr. Beresford said desperately as the bus doors opened. He began to move forward again, and the old lady caught his arm and said, “Don't bother if you're in a hurry. I can get them, dear.” Mr. Beresford tried to shake her off, and she said, “If this is your stop, don't worry. It's perfectly all right.”

A coil of pink ribbon was caught around Mr. Beresford's shoe; the old lady said, “It was clumsy of me, leaving my bag right in the aisle.”

As Mr. Beresford broke away from her, the doors closed and the bus started. Resigned, Mr. Beresford got down on one knee in the swaying bus and began to pick up paper clips, blocks, a box of letter paper that had opened and spilled sheets and envelopes all over the floor. “I'm so sorry,” the old lady said sweetly. “It was all my fault, too.”

Over his shoulder, Mr. Beresford saw the man in the light hat sitting comfortably. He was smoking, and his head was thrown back and his eyes were shut. Mr. Beresford gathered together the old lady's possessinos as well as he could, then made his way forward to stand by the driver. “Getting off,” Mr. Beresford said.

“Can't stop in the middle of the block,” the driver said, not turning his head.

“The next stop, then,” Mr. Beresford said.

The bus moved rapidly on. Mr. Beresford, bending down to see the streets out the front window, saw a sign saying BUS STOP.

“Here,” he said.

“What?” the driver said, going past.

“Listen,” Mr. Beresford said. “I want to get off.”

“It's okay with me,” the driver said. “Next stop.”

“You just passed one,” Mr. Beresford said.

“No one waiting there,” the driver said. “Anyway, you didn't tell me in time.” Mr. Beresford waited. After a minute he saw another bus stop and said, “Okay.”

The bus did not stop, but went past the sign without slowing down.

“Report me,” the driver said.

“Listen, now,” Mr. Beresford said, and the driver turned one eye up at him; he seemed to be amused.

“Report me,” the driver said. “My number's right here on this card.”

“If you don't stop at the next stop,” Mr. Beresford said, “I shall smash the glass in the door and shout for help.”

“What with?” the driver said. “The box of candy?”

“How do you know it's—” Mr. Beresford said before he realized that if he got into a conversation he would miss the next bus stop. It had not occurred to him that he could get off anywhere except at a bus stop; he saw lights ahead, and at the same time the bus slowed down and Mr. Beresford, looking quickly back, saw the man in the light hat stretch and get up.

The bus pulled to a stop in front of a bus sign; there was a group of stores.

“OKAY,” the bus driver said to Mr. Beresford, “you were so anxious to get off.” The man in the light hat got off at the rear door. Mr. Beresford, standing by the open front door, hesitated and said, “I guess I'll stay on for a while.”

“Last stop,” the bus driver said. “Everybody off.” He looked sardonically up at Mr. Beresford. “Report me if you want to,” he said. “My number's right on that card there.”

Mr. Beresford got off and went directly up to the man in the light hat, standing on the sidewalk. “This is perfectly ridiculous,” he said emphatically. “I don't understand any of it, and I want you to know that the first policeman I see—”

He stopped when he realized that the man in the light hat was looking not at him but, bored and fixedly, over his shoulder. Mr. Beresford turned and saw a policeman standing on the corner.

“Just you wait,” he said to the man in the light hat, and started for the policeman. Halfway to the policeman he began to wonder again: What did he have to report? A bus driver who would not stop when directed to, a clerk in a souvenir shop who cornered customers, a mysterious man in a light hat—and why? Mr. Beresford realized that there was nothing he could tell the policeman; he looked over his shoulder and saw the man in the light hat watching him, then Mr. Beresford bolted suddenly down a subway entrance. He had a nickel in his hand by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, and he went right through the turnstile; to the left was downtown, and he ran that way.

He was figuring as he ran: He'll think if I'm very stupid I'd head downtown, if I'm smarter than that I'd go uptown, if I'm really smart I'd go downtown. Does he think I'm middling smart or very smart?

The man in the light hat reached the downtown platform only a few seconds after Mr. Beresford and sauntered down the platform, his hands in his pockets. Mr. Beresford sat down on the bench listlessly. It's no good, he thought, no good at all; he knows just how smart I am.

The train came blasting into the station; Mr. Beresford ran into one car and saw the light hat disappear into the next car. Just as the doors were closing Mr. Beresford dived, caught the door, and would have been out except for a girl who seized his arm and shouted, “Harry! Where in God's name are you going?”

The door was held halfway open by Mr. Beresford's body, his arm left inside with the girl, who seemed to be holding it with all her strength. “Isn't this a fine thing,” she said to the people in the car, “He sure doesn't want to see his old friends.”

A few people laughed; most of them were watching.

“Hang on to him, sister,” someone said.

The girl laughed and tugged on Mr. Beresford's arm. “He's gonna get away,” she said laughingly to the people in the car, and a big man stepped up to her with a grin and said, “If you gotta have him that bad, we'll bring him in for you.”

Mr. Beresford felt the grasp on his arm turn suddenly into an irresistible force that drew him in through the doors, and they closed behind him. Everyone in the car was laughing at him by now, and the big man said, “That ain't no way to treat a lady, chum.”

Mr. Beresford looked around for the girl, but she had melted into the crowd somewhere and the train was moving. After a minute the people in the car stopped looking at him, and Mr. Beresford smoothed his coat and found that his box of candy was still intact.

The subway train was going downtown. Mr. Beresford, who was now racking his brains for detective tricks, for mystery-story dodges, thought of one that seemed foolproof. He stayed docilely on the train, as it went downtown, and got a seat at Twenty-third Street. At Fourteenth he got off, the light hat following, and went up the stairs and into the street. As he had expected, the large department store ahead of him advertised OPEN TILL 9 TONIGHT and the doors swung wide, back and forth, with people going constantly in and out. Mr. Beresford went in. The store bewildered him at first—counters stretching away in all directions, the lights much brighter than anywhere else, the voices clamoring. Mr. Beresford moved slowly along beside a counter; it was stockings first, thin and tan and black and gauzy, and then it was handbags, piles on sale, neat solitary ones in the cases, and then it was medical supplies, with huge almost human figures wearing obscene trusses, standing right there on the counter, and people coming embarrassedly to buy. Mr. Beresford turned the corner and came to a counter of odds and ends. Scarves too cheap to be at the scarf counter, postcards, a bin marked ANY ITEM 25¢, dark glasses. Uncomfortably, Mr. Beresford bought a pair of dark glasses and put them on.

He went out of the store at an entrance far away from the one he had used to come in; he could have chosen any of eight or nine entrances, but this seemed complicated enough. There was no sign of the light hat, no one tried to hinder Mr. Beresford as he stepped up to the taxi stand, and, although he debated taking the second or third car, he finally took the one in front and gave his home address.

He reached his apartment building without mishap, and stole cautiously out of the taxi and into the lobby. There was no light hat, no odd person watching for Mr. Beresford. In the elevator, alone, with no one to see which floor button he pressed, Mr. Beresford took a long breath and began to wonder if he had dreamed his wild trip home. He rang his apartment bell and waited; then his wife came to the door, and Mr. Beresford, suddenly tired out, went into his home.

“You're terribly late, darling,” his wife said affectionately, and then, “But what's the matter?”

He looked at her; she was wearing her blue dress, and that meant she knew it was her birthday and expected him to take her out; he handed her the box of candy limply and she took it, hardly noticing it in her anxiety over him. “What on earth has happened?” she asked. “Darling, come in here and sit down. You look terrible.”

He let her lead him into the living room, into his own chair where it was comfortable, and he lay back.

“Is there something wrong?” she was asking anxiously, fussing over him, loosening his tie, smoothing his hair. “Are you sick? Were you in an accident? What has happened?”

He realized that he seemed more tired than he really was, and was glorying in all this attention. He sighed deeply and said, “Nothing. Nothing wrong. Tell you in a minute.”

“Wait,” she said. “I'll get you a drink.”

He put his head back against the soft chair as she went out. Never knew that door had a key, his mind registered dimly as he heard it turn. Then he was on his feet with his head against the door listening to her at the telephone in the hall.

She dialled and waited. Then: “Listen,” she said, “listen, he came here after all. I've got him.”

疑神疑鬼

哈洛倫·貝雷斯福德先生這一整天在辦公室里過得很充實,他雖然覺得有些疲乏,但心情還不錯。在八小時之后,他的臉仍然像剛刮過胡須般精神干凈,熨燙過的褲子也沒有什么褶皺,心中惦記著的事尤其讓他愉悅。他走出了糖果店,腋下夾著一大盒糖果,步伐輕快地走向街角。在紐約的每一條街區(qū)上,都有二十個如同貝雷斯福德先生一樣穿著小號灰色西服的人;有五十個在裝有空調(diào)的辦公室里工作了一天,仍然面龐干凈、褲線筆挺的人;也許還有一百個個頭不高,因為惦記妻子生日而心情愉悅的人。貝雷斯福德先生打算帶他妻子出門吃晚飯,還決定去碰碰運氣,看他是否能在最后一刻買到演出的門票,當然還有要帶給她的糖果。天氣相當好,貝雷斯福德先生沿街快速地走著,自己一邊走還一邊哼著小曲。

他在街角停了下來,考慮為了節(jié)省時間,是否應(yīng)該坐公交車,或者在擁擠的車流中試著打一輛出租車。到市區(qū)還有很長一段路,要是在平時,貝雷斯福德先生喜歡靜靜地在一輛第五大道的公交車上坐著,有時還會看會兒報紙。他不喜歡熙熙攘攘的地鐵,而在大庭廣眾之下,揮舞著手臂,大喊著叫一輛出租車,他又做不到。但是,今天晚上在糖果店里,為了給他妻子買最愛吃的巧克力糖果,他已經(jīng)花了很長時間去排隊,要想在晚飯前把它擺上桌,他真得抓緊點兒時間。

貝雷斯福德先生緊跑了幾步,在街邊揮著手,用一種無助的像是假嗓子的聲音喊道:“出租車!”可出租車好像沒聽見似的開走了,他只得很尷尬地退回到人行道上。在人行道上,一個戴著帽子的男人在貝雷斯福德先生身邊站住,有那么一會兒,在擁擠的人流中,他盯著貝雷斯福德先生看,而貝雷斯福德先生也盯著他看,就好像有時人們會下意識地回頭看一樣。貝雷斯福德先生看到在輕便帽子的下面,這個男人的臉很瘦,長著小胡子,外套的領(lǐng)子向上豎著。是個看上去很滑稽的家伙,貝雷斯福德先生這樣想道,他輕輕地摸了一下胡子刮得很干凈的嘴唇。也許那個男人認為貝雷斯福德先生幾乎是無意識的動作冒犯了他,至少在他轉(zhuǎn)身走開之前,他皺著眉頭,上上下下打量了貝雷斯福德先生一番。貝雷斯福德先生心里暗罵:討厭的丑家伙。

貝雷斯福德先生平常坐的第五大道的公交車漸漸地駛到街角,貝雷斯福德先生很高興不用費事再去打出租車了,于是跑向了公交車站。他伸出手去抓車門里的扶手,可被人用胳膊肘粗暴地擠到了一邊,那個戴輕便帽子的丑家伙搶在他前面擠了上去。貝雷斯福德先生咕噥地抱怨著,跟在他后面開始往上擠,但是車上擠滿了人,車門突然關(guān)上了。貝雷斯福德先生眼睜睜地看著公交車沿著大街開走了,他看到的最后一幕就是那個戴著輕便帽子的男人在車門里面,沖著他擠眉弄眼地咧嘴笑著。

“卑鄙的伎倆。”貝雷斯福德先生自言自語道,怒氣沖沖地抖了抖肩膀。在懊惱之下,他又跑了幾步到了街上,再次揮手想打一輛出租車,而且用一個不像是自己的聲音喊著,可他差一點兒就被一輛運貨的卡車撞倒了。當貝雷斯福德先生跳回人行道的時候,卡車司機伸出頭來,沖貝雷斯福德先生不知喊叫著什么。貝雷斯福德先生看見街角周圍的人都在笑他,他決定朝市區(qū)方向一路走過去。再走過兩個街區(qū),那里有另一個公交車站,那兒也比較容易打車,而且還有一個地鐵站。盡管貝雷斯福德先生極其不喜歡地鐵,但有時他仍然不得不坐它回家。他往市區(qū)方向走著,他的腋下夾著糖果盒,身上灰色的西裝幾乎沒有受到街角擁擠人群的影響,貝雷斯福德先生決定不去想剛才那些郁悶的事,而要多想想今天是他妻子的生日。他走著走著又開始哼起了小曲。

他一邊走路,一邊觀察著身邊的人們。作為一個男人,他剛才成功地擺脫掉了負面情緒的影響,眼力變得敏銳起來。很顯然,迎面向他走來的那個穿高跟鞋的女孩,眉頭緊鎖,不能讓自己從雞毛蒜皮的小煩惱中解脫,或者她皺眉的原因僅僅是鞋不合適。一位老太太和一個男人正在看著商店的櫥窗爭吵。那個長相滑稽、戴輕便帽的家伙從人群中快步走來,看起來他好像對某人心懷仇恨……對,就是那個長相滑稽、戴輕便帽的家伙。貝雷斯福德先生繞過前面走著的人群,回頭看到那個戴輕便帽的男人突然轉(zhuǎn)身,開始往市區(qū)方向走來,就在貝雷斯福德先生身后大約十英尺的地方。這是怎么回事?貝雷斯福德先生吃驚地問著自己,同時加快了步伐。興許他是因為某種原因從公交車上下來了吧,可能是坐錯車了。那么他為什么剛才往市郊方向走,而不是換乘另外一輛公交車呢?貝雷斯福德先生聳聳肩,經(jīng)過了兩個女孩,她們倆并肩從他身邊走過,邊走邊說著話。

走到距離他想去的街角還有一半路的時候,貝雷斯福德先生既吃驚又厭惡地發(fā)現(xiàn),那個戴輕便帽的男人就在他的身邊,不緊不慢地跟他并排走著。貝雷斯福德先生向一側(cè)扭過頭去,故意放慢了腳步。這個男人也慢了下來,一眼也沒看貝雷斯福德先生。

簡直是胡鬧,貝雷斯福德先生心想,也懶得琢磨除此之外還有什么緣由會這樣。他把糖果盒穩(wěn)穩(wěn)地夾在胳膊下,猛然逆著去往市郊的人群走進了一家商店。這是一家賣紀念品和小擺設(shè)的商店,他穿過店門時,意識到了這一點,店里只有兩三個人——一位婦女、一個小女孩和一個水手——貝雷斯福德先生遠遠地躲到柜臺的一端,開始反復(fù)擺弄一個精致的香煙盒,盒子上面寫著“紐約城紀念品”,下面印著三角尖塔和圓球的圖案。

“這個難道不是挺好玩的嗎?”母親對著小女孩說道,她們兩個人都開始對著一個像便池一樣的火柴盒哈哈大笑起來,火柴放在一個碗狀物中。貝雷斯福德先生能夠看到,那個蓋子上也有三角尖塔和圓球的圖案,圖案上方寫著“紐約城紀念品”。

戴輕便帽的男人也走進了這家商店,貝雷斯福德先生背過身去,好像忙著從柜臺里一件接著一件地挑選商品。他的一半心思放在挑一個沒有印著“紐約城紀念品”的小禮物上,另一半心思在對那個戴輕便帽的男人的疑惑上。但是,那個戴輕便帽的男人究竟想干什么的問題馬上讓位給了他的目標是誰這個問題。如果他戴著輕便帽子等掩飾身份的盤算是針對貝雷斯福德先生的,那么這一定是不懷好意的,而且在此之前,他為什么不把他的意圖明說出來?貝雷斯福德先生的腦海中還快速閃現(xiàn)過他要跟這個男人搭訕,問他的目的何在的畫面,在情況不明的情況下,這招總能奏效??呻S后,貝雷斯福德先生又清醒地意識到了自己矮小的身材和小心謹慎的天性。貝雷斯福德先生做出了一個決定,最好的方式還是躲開這個男人。想到這點,貝雷斯福德先生鎮(zhèn)定地走向了商店的大門,打算經(jīng)過戴輕便帽男人的身邊,出門去坐公交車回家。

他還沒走到戴輕便帽男人的身邊,一個店員就繞過柜臺,帶著親切的微笑徑直向貝雷斯福德先生迎了過去,用激越的聲音說道:“看到您中意的東西了嗎,先生?”

“今晚沒有,謝謝!”貝雷斯福德先生邊說邊挪開身子,打算避開這個店員,但是店員也同樣挪動腳步,又湊了上來,說道:“還有些好東西您沒看到呢。”

“不,謝謝!”貝雷斯福德先生說道,力圖使他的高音聽起來更加堅定。

“還是看一看吧。”店員堅持道。這個店員身上有股非同尋常的執(zhí)拗勁。貝雷斯福德先生抬起頭,看見戴輕便帽的男人在他的右邊,向他逼近。他向兩個人的身后望去,發(fā)現(xiàn)店里已經(jīng)空無一人了,大街看上去也離得很遠,兩個不同方向的行人身影變得越來越小。貝雷斯福德先生意識到自己在那兩個人的步步緊逼下,正在被迫往后退。

“小心行事。”戴輕便帽的男人對店員說道。他們繼續(xù)慢慢地靠了過來。

“你們要干什么?”貝雷斯福德先生緊張地說道,但是聲音中透著常人身陷危機時的無能為力感。他仍然緊握著腋下的糖果盒,“你們干什么。”他說道,感受著他身后的墻壁堅實的重量。

“準備。”戴輕便帽的男人說道。兩個男人躍躍欲試,貝雷斯福德先生大叫一聲,從兩個人的空隙中鉆了過去,跑向了大門。隨后,他聽見身后傳來一種猶如咆哮的聲音,以及一陣子追來的腳步聲。“我到了大街上就安全了,”當他出了門來到大街上涌動的人流中時,心中想道:“只要人多,他們就不能把我怎么樣了。”他一邊回頭看著,一邊走在了一個帶著很多包裹的胖女人和一對勾肩搭背的青年男女中間,他看見店員站在商店的門前,眼光跟隨著他,而戴輕便帽的男人已不在視線當中了。貝雷斯福德先生把糖果盒換了一下胳膊,空出了右胳膊。他想:太愚蠢了,在光天化日之下,他們怎能妄想帶走……

戴輕便帽的男人就在前面不遠處的角落等著,貝雷斯福德先生有些猶豫地放慢了腳步,然后,轉(zhuǎn)念一想,這真荒謬可笑,街上人這么多,大家都在看著,他大膽地沿著街道走了過去。戴輕便帽的男人沒有看他,很平靜地靠著一棟建筑點著了一根香煙。貝雷斯福德先生走到街角時,突然快速地沖到了街上,大聲喊叫著:“出租車!”他從來不知道自己究竟為什么能夠發(fā)出那么大的聲音。一輛好像不敢漠視這聲大叫的出租車停了下來。謝天謝地!貝雷斯福德先生跑向了它,當他的手放在車門把手上時,另一個人的手也伸了過來,貝雷斯福德先生能清楚地感受到帽子檐劃過了他的臉頰。

“要上就快上。”出租車司機說道。車門開了,有人要把他使勁推上車,貝雷斯福德先生反抗著,把手從另一個人的手里抽出來,跑回了人行道。一輛跨區(qū)公交車已經(jīng)停在了街角,貝雷斯福德先生不假思索地匆忙上了車,把一枚五分的硬幣投入售票機中,走到公交車的后部坐了下來。戴輕便帽的男人就坐在前面不遠的地方,在貝雷斯福德先生和車門之間的位置。貝雷斯福德先生把糖果盒放到了他的膝蓋上,想努力理清頭緒。顯然,戴輕便帽的男人可能對他并無惡意,那個幾乎是無意識的摸嘴的舉動也并沒有引起那個男人的不滿,除非他特別敏感。在任何情況下,紀念品店里自然會有店員;貝雷斯福德先生突然認識到紀念品店里的店員行為舉止確實非常奇怪。然后,他把考慮店員的念頭放到了一邊,心思又回到了戴輕便帽的男人身上。如果摸嘴的動作沒有任何的侮辱之意,那又會是什么呢?緊接著,另一個想法讓貝雷斯福德先生不寒而栗:那么,戴輕便帽的男人尾隨他有多長時間了?他回想了一整天的經(jīng)歷:他和一群人一起離開了辦公室,大家一路開心地聊著,還不忘提醒他今天是他夫人的生日,他們一直陪著貝雷斯福德先生走到糖果店,然后他一個人留在店里買東西。他整個白天幾乎都待在辦公室里,除了和辦公室的三個同事一起出去吃了個午餐。貝雷斯福德先生的思路一下子從午餐又跳到了他在公交車站第一眼看見戴輕便帽男人時的情景。那個男人好像要把他推上公交車,而不是自己先擠上去。如果真是那樣,一旦他上了公交車……貝雷斯福德先生四下看了一下,他正坐著的這趟公交車上只剩下五個乘客了。一個是司機,一個是他自己,一個是戴輕便帽的男人,司機和那個男人都坐在貝雷斯福德先生的前面不遠處。另外兩位乘客,一個是拿著很多購物袋的老太太,一個是看上去像是外國人的男人。外國人,貝雷斯福德先生看了他一眼,一下子想到了外國人、外國的陰謀、間諜。最好別相信外國人,貝雷斯福德先生思量到。

公交車在兩旁高大、黢黑的建筑物中飛快地穿行。貝雷斯福德先生看著車窗外,很顯然他們現(xiàn)在在一個工廠區(qū),他記得他們一直在往東走,決定到下一個光線好的、熱鬧的街區(qū)就下車??粗囬_進越來越黑暗的地方,貝雷斯福德先生注意到了一個奇怪的情況:街角矗立著的公交牌子旁有人在等車,而車根本沒停,甚至等車的人在光線暗淡處揮著手,這輛公交車也沒停。貝雷斯福德先生吃驚地瞟了一眼街邊的標識牌,注意到上面寫著“東31街”,與此同時,他拉了車鈴,示意司機他要下車。當他站起身,沿著過道走向車門的時候,那個外國人模樣的人也站了起來,走向司機旁邊的車門。“下車。”外國人說道,公交車減速了。貝雷斯福德先生側(cè)身向前,但老太太的購物袋擋在了過道上,袋子一下倒了,小東西撒了一地——一套積木,一盒曲別針——撒得到處都是。

“對不起。”貝雷斯福德先生絕望地說道。這時,公交車的車門開了。他又開始向前挪動腳步了,而老太太抓住了他的胳膊說道:“如果你著急的話,不用麻煩替我撿,我能搞定,親愛的。”貝雷斯福德先生試圖甩開她的手,而她繼續(xù)說道:“如果你到站了,不用擔心,完全沒有關(guān)系。”

一卷粉色的緞帶纏繞在了貝雷斯福德先生的鞋上,老太太道歉道:“瞧我笨手笨腳的,就讓袋子暫時那樣放在過道上吧。”

當貝雷斯福德先生掙脫開時,車門咣地關(guān)上了,公交車也開始動了。貝雷斯福德先生打消了下車的念頭,在搖搖晃晃的車上單膝著地開始撿曲別針、積木,可一盒信紙又散開了,信紙和信封在地板上被撒得到處都是,“對不起,”老太太親切地說道,“這都是我的錯。”

再一次,一扭頭,貝雷斯福德先生看見戴輕便帽的男人正舒舒服服地坐在那里。他吸著煙,頭向后仰著,眼睛閉著。貝雷斯福德先生盡可能地把老太太的東西都拾掇好了。然后,他又走上前站在了司機身邊。“下車。”貝雷斯福德先生說道。

“在街區(qū)中央不能停車。”司機頭也不回地說道。

“那就下一站吧。”貝雷斯福德先生說道。

公交車快速地向前開著,貝雷斯福德先生略微蹲下身子,從前面的車窗去看外面的街道,看見了一塊牌子上寫著“公交車站”。

“就這兒吧。”他說道。

“什么?”司機問道,外面的車站牌一閃而過。

“聽著,”貝雷斯福德先生說道,“我要下車。”

“好吧,”司機說道,“下一站。”

“你剛過了一站。”貝雷斯福德先生說道。

“車站沒人等車,”司機說道,“而且,你也沒及時告訴我。”貝雷斯福德先生耐下性子等著,過了一會兒,他看到了另一個公交車站牌,趕緊說道:“好了,停車。”

公交車沒有停,經(jīng)過車站時連一點兒減速的意思都沒有。

“去投訴我吧。”司機說。

“現(xiàn)在,你給我聽著。”貝雷斯福德先生說道,而司機則翻著白眼斜睨著他,似乎覺得很好玩。

“去投訴我好了,”司機說道,“我的工作證號就在這張卡上。”

“如果你下一站還不停車的話,”貝雷斯福德先生說道,“我會打碎車門玻璃,大喊救命。”

“用什么打?”司機冷笑道,“這盒糖果嗎?”

“你怎么知道它是……”貝雷斯福德先生問道,可他馬上意識到,如果他開始聊天的話,可能又會錯過一個公交車站。除了到達公交車站,對司機能讓他隨時下車他想都不敢想。他看見了前面的燈光,同時公交車開始減速了。貝雷斯福德先生向后快速地看了一眼,看見戴輕便帽的男人伸了伸懶腰,站了起來。

公交車在站牌前方停了下來,那兒有一排商店。

“好了,”公交車司機對貝雷斯福德先生說道,“你那么著急下車。”戴輕便帽的男人從后門那兒站起身,貝雷斯福德先生站在車開著的前車門口,遲疑地說道:“我想我還要在車上坐一會兒。”

“終點站,”公交車司機說道,“每個人都得下車。”他嘲弄似的抬頭看著貝雷斯福德先生。“如果你想投訴我就去投訴吧,”他說道,“我的號碼就在那邊的卡上。”

貝雷斯福德先生下了車,徑直走向那個戴輕便帽的男人,他正站在人行道上。“這也太可笑了,”他強調(diào)說,“我一點兒也不明白,我想讓你知道,一看見警察,我就……”

他停住了,因為他意識到那個戴輕便帽的男人并沒有看他,而是有點兒厭煩但又目不轉(zhuǎn)睛地看著他身后。貝雷斯福德先生轉(zhuǎn)過身去,看見一個警察正站在街角。

“你等著。”他對那個戴輕便帽的男人說道,開始向警察走去??勺叩揭话氲臅r候,他心中又開始打起了鼓:他要跟警察說什么?當他要下車時,公交車不停車,紀念品商店的店員逼迫顧客,戴著輕便帽子的神秘男人,——為什么?貝雷斯福德先生突然認識到他沒什么可以告訴警察的。他回過頭去,看見那個戴輕便帽的男人正在盯著他。這時,貝雷斯福德先生突然像箭一般飛奔到地鐵的入口。此時,他手上攥著五分硬幣,三步并作兩步地下了臺階,快速地通過了隔欄,左側(cè)是通往市區(qū)的地鐵線,他跑向了這邊。

他一邊跑一邊合計:如果我奔向市區(qū)方向,他會認為我很愚蠢;如果我更聰明一些,我會奔向市郊;如果我真的聰明,我會去市區(qū)。他覺得我是聰明呢還是非常聰明?

那個戴輕便帽的男人在貝雷斯福德先生到達地鐵站臺之后的幾秒鐘里,就也到了那里,他的手放到口袋里,在站臺上溜達。而貝雷斯福德先生無精打采地坐在一張長條凳上。“那不好,”他心想,“那一點兒也不好,他知道我有多聰明。”

地鐵列車隆隆地進了站,貝雷斯福德先生跑著進了地鐵車門,眼睛瞄見那個男人消失在了另一節(jié)車廂的門內(nèi)。就在門剛要關(guān)上那一刻,貝雷斯福德先生撲了過去,扒住了門,要不是一個女孩抓住他的胳膊喊叫著:“哈里!看在上帝的分上,你要去哪兒呀?”他應(yīng)該已經(jīng)跳出了車廂。

貝雷斯福德先生的身體卡在門的中間,他的胳膊被女孩抓住,留在了車廂里。女孩似乎用盡了全身的力氣抓著他,“這可不好,”她對車廂里的其他乘客說道,“他確信不想去見他的老朋友們了。”

有幾個人笑了起來,而大多數(shù)的人在看著他們。

“緊緊抓住他,姐們。”有人喊道。

女孩笑了,用力拉著貝雷斯福德先生的胳膊,“他想跑。”她笑著對車廂里的人說道。一個膀大腰圓的男人開口笑著走過來,說道:“如果你那么需要他,我們幫你把他拽進來。”

貝雷斯福德先生覺得抓在他胳膊上的力道突然大得不可抗拒,一下子就把他從門中間給拉了進來,車廂門也在他身后關(guān)上了。這時,車廂中的每個人都沖他哈哈大笑起來。那個大個子的男人說道:“可不應(yīng)該這樣對待一位女士,好朋友。”

貝雷斯福德先生四下看了看,想找到那個女孩,但是她已經(jīng)消失在了人群中,列車這時開始移動了。過了一會兒,車廂中的人不再關(guān)注他了,貝雷斯福德先生整理了一下外套,發(fā)現(xiàn)他的糖果盒依然完好。

地鐵列車向市區(qū)疾馳。貝雷斯福德先生現(xiàn)在絞盡腦汁想著偵探們常用的手段,神秘故事中的躲閃術(shù),似乎想到了一個萬全之策。當列車駛向市區(qū)時,他乖乖地待在車廂中,他買的是到二十三街區(qū)的票,可在十四街區(qū)時他就下車了。他走上樓梯,來到大街上,戴輕便帽的男人還在跟著他。正如他所料,他前面的大百貨商店正打著“開門至晚上九點”的廣告,大門開著,隨著人流不斷的進進出出,門前后擺動。貝雷斯福德先生走了進去。剛開始,這家店讓他有點兒不知所措——柜臺長長的一大溜,各個方向上都有,里面的燈光也比別的地方亮得多,人聲鼎沸。貝雷斯福德先生沿著一個柜臺的邊緣慢慢挪動腳步,起初的柜臺賣的是長筒襪,薄薄的肉色的、紗似的黑色的;接下去是手提包,有的是成摞賣的,有的是在隔架中一個一個賣的;再下去是醫(yī)療用品,站在柜臺里的是一個巨大的人體模型,過來買東西的人免不了尷尬。貝雷斯福德先生轉(zhuǎn)過一個角落,來到了雜貨用品柜臺前,有些絲巾太廉價,所以甚至都沒有放到絲巾柜臺中去,而擺放到了這里。柜臺中有明信片,以及一個容器,上面標注著“里面所有商品的直徑都是25毫米”。這里還有墨鏡,雖然戴墨鏡不是很舒服,但貝雷斯福德先生還是買了一副并戴上了。

他從距離他進來的門很遠的另一扇門出了商店,他本來可以選擇從八或九個出入口中的任何一個出來,但是這個出入口似乎比較復(fù)雜。他看不見那個戴輕便帽的男人了,直到貝雷斯福德先生走到出租車載客處,也沒人試圖妨礙他。雖然他仔細考慮過坐第二輛還是第三輛出租車,但最后還是坐上了一輛主動上來攬活的出租車,告訴了司機他家的地址。

他一路平安地到了自己家的公寓樓,小心翼翼地從出租車里下來進了大堂。這兒再也見不到戴輕便帽的男人了,也沒有奇怪的人注視著貝雷斯福德先生了。電梯里就他一個人,沒人會看見他按的是哪一層,貝雷斯福德先生長長地舒了口氣,開始好奇他這段狂亂的回家之旅會不會是一場夢魘。他按響了公寓的門鈴,等待著。他的妻子來到門前給他開了門,貝雷斯福德先生進了家門,突然覺得快要累癱了。

“你今天回來得太晚了,親愛的,”他妻子溫情脈脈地說道,然后又問道,“出了什么事了嗎?”

他看著她,她身上穿著藍色的長裙,說明她知道今天是她的生日,指望他能帶她出去。他四肢無力地把糖果盒遞給了她,她接了過來。他幾乎沒注意到她的擔心。“究竟出什么事了?”她問道,“親愛的,快來這兒坐下,你看上去太糟糕了。”

他讓她領(lǐng)著進了起居室,坐到了自己舒服的椅子上,他仰臉躺下。

“出了什么事嗎?”她焦急地問道,在他身上瞎忙活了一氣,松了松他的領(lǐng)帶,捋了捋他的頭發(fā),“你病了嗎?你遇到了一場事故?發(fā)生了什么事?”

他意識到他似乎比他表現(xiàn)出來的還要累,受到這種關(guān)注也很得意。他深深地嘆了口氣,說道:“沒事,沒什么大不了的事,我待一會兒告訴你。”

“等一下,”她說道,“我去給你拿點兒喝的。”

當她出去以后,他又把頭靠在了柔軟的椅子背上。他從來不知道起居室的門竟然還有鑰匙,可在她離開時,他在潛意識下模模糊糊聽到了鑰匙轉(zhuǎn)動的聲音。這時,他悄悄站了起來,把頭貼到門上,聽到她在客廳里打電話。

她撥了號碼,等了一會兒,然后說道:“聽著,”她說道,“聽著,他終于回來了。我已經(jīng)穩(wěn)住他了。”

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