p&c.brimstone-第112部分

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ir　loyalty　was　without　question。　It　was　simply　that　he　wanted　to　finish　this　business　undisturbed。　
　He　moved　slowly　and　purposefully　through　the　huge　rooms　of　the　castle：　thesalone　；　the　hall　of　portraits；　the　hall　of　armor。　His　stroll　took　him　back　through　time：　first；　through　the　older；　thirteenth…century　additions；　then　into　still　older　chambers；　built　half　a　millennium　earlier。　Here　there　was　no　electricity；　no　modern　conveniences　such　as　plumbing　or　central　heating。　The　warren　of　small；　windowless　rooms　grew　dark　and　oppressive；　and　Fosco　stopped　to　pull　a　torch　from　a　wall　sconce　and　light　it。　Turning　to　an　ancient　worktable　nearby；　he　picked　up　something　else　and　tucked　it　into　his　waistcoat。　Then　he　took　a　side　passage　and　continued　on　and　down：　down　into　a　subterranean　warren　of　tunnels　cut　into　the　living　rock。　
　Many　of　the　extensive　basements　of　the　Castello　Fosco　were　taken　up　with　the　production　of　the　estate。　A　great　many　rooms　were　devoted　to　winemaking：　filled　with　bottling　machinery　and　fermentation　vats；　or　with　countless　small　barrels　of　French　oak。　Others　were　given　over　to　the　aging　of　boar　hams：　deep；　cool　spaces　from　whose　ceilings　hung　countless　hams；　still　covered　in　coarse　fur。　Still　others　were　used　for　storing　olive　oil　or　makingbalsamico　。　But　here…far　beneath　the　bulk　of　the　castle's　stronghold…there　were　no　such　large　and　well…ventilated　spaces。　Narrow　vaults　dug　deeply　into　the　beetling　cliff　face　of　limestone；　and　stairs　corkscrewed　down　toward　old　wells　and　chambers　unused　for　half　a　millennium。　
　It　was　one　of　these　staircases　that　Fosco　now　descended。　The　air　was　chill；　the　walls　slick　with　damp。　The　count　slowed　further：　the　hand…cut　steps　were　slippery；　and　if　he　fell　there　would　be　nobody　to　hear　his　cries。　
　At　last；　the　staircase　ended　in　a　labyrinth　of　narrow　vaults；　lined　in　ancient　brick。　Niches　were　cut　into　the　walls；　and　each　contained　a　skeleton：　some　long…deceased　family　member　or…more　likely；　given　the　sheer　number…fallen　allies　from　wars　fought　a　millennium　ago。　The　air　was　bad　here；　and　Fosco's　torch　guttered　as　he　threaded　his　plex　path。　
　As　he　penetrated　deeper　into　the　maze；　the　ancient　walls　grew　more　uneven。　He　passed　several　places　where　they　had　fallen　away　from　the　rock；　leaving　heaps　of　scattered　bricks。　Skeletons　lay　in　thick　profusion；　as　if　dumped　and　abandoned　where　they　lay；　the　bones　chewed　and　scattered　by　rats。　
　The　vault　finally　ended　in　a　cul…de…sac。　The　darkness　here　was　so　thick；　so　plete；　that　Fosco's　torch　barely　penetrated。　He　took　another　step　forward；　waved　the　torch　in　a　cautious　arc　into　the　last　recess　ahead　of　him。　
　The　guttering　flame　revealed　the　figure　of　Agent　Pendergast；　head　lolled　forward　onto　his　chest。　His　face　was　scratched　and　bleeding　in　a　dozen　places。　His　normally　immaculate　black　suit　was　shredded　and　dirty；　the　jacket　lying　in　a　heap　at　his　feet。　His　hand…tailored　English　shoes　were　covered　in　thick　Tuscan　mud。　He　appeared　unconscious　and　would　have　sunk　to　the　ground　before　Fosco　if　not　for　the　heavy　chain　bound　tightly　across　his　chest。　This　was　fixed　to　an　iron　staple　set　into　the　limestone　wall；　and　was　padlocked　to　a　second　iron　staple　on　Pendergast's　far　side。　His　wrists　hung　limply　at　his　sides；　secured　by　additional　lengths　of　chain　fixed　to　the　rear　wall　of　the　niche。　
　Fosco's　first　sweep　of　the　torch　had　been　a　careful　one。　He　had　learned；　even　now；　not　to　underestimate　his　opponent。　But　Pendergast　was　clearly　immobilized；　helpless。　Emboldened；　the　count　brought　the　torch　forward　again。　
　As　the　light　of　the　torch　crossed　his　face；　Pendergast　stirred。　His　eyes　fluttered　open。　
　Instantly；　Fosco　stepped　back。　〃Agent　Pendergast？〃　he　crooned。　〃Aloysius？　Are　we　awake？〃　
　Pendergast　did　not　answer；　but　his　eyes　remained　open。　He　moved　his　limbs　weakly；　flexed　his　manacled　hands。　
　〃Please　forgive　me；　but　I'm　afraid　the　restraints　are　necessary。　As　you　shall　soon　understand。〃　
　When　there　was　no　response；　the　count　continued。　〃You　no　doubt　feel　weak；　barely　able　to　stir。　And　you　may　be　experiencing　a　certain　degree　of　amnesia。　Phenobarbital　does　have　that　effect　at　times：　it　seemed　the　easiest　way　to　return　you　to　the　castle　without　undue　exertions。　So　allow　me　to　refresh　your　memory。　You　and　the　good　sergeant　D'Agosta　grew　tired　of　my　hospitality　and　desired　to　leave。　I；　naturally；　took　objection。　There　was　a　nasty　struggle；　I'm　afraid；　in　which　my　beloved　Pinketts　perished。　You　had　deposited　some　paperwork　I　was　obliged　to　reclaim。　Then　came　your　escape　attempt。　Sergeant　D'Agosta　made　good　his　escape；　I　fear。　But　the　important　thing　is　thatyou're　back；　my　dear　Agent　Pendergast：　back　safely　again　in　the　bosom　of　Castel　Fosco！　And　I　insist　you　remain　here；　as　my　guest。　No；　really…I'll　hear　no　objection。〃　
　Fosco　placed　the　torch　carefully　into　an　iron　wall　mounting。　〃I　beg　your　pardon　for　the　scant　acmodation。　Still；　these　chambers　are　not　without　their　natural　charm。　You'll　notice　the　white　webwork　that　gleams　from　the　cavern　walls？　It's　nitre；　my　dear　Pendergast…you　of　all　people　should　appreciate　the　literary　allusion。　And　thus　understand　what　is　to　follow。〃　
　And　to　underscore　this；　the　count　slipped　his　hand　into　his　waistcoat　and　slowly　withdrew　a　trowel。　
　Staring　at　it；　Pendergast's　dull；　drug…heavy　eyes　gleamed　briefly。　
　〃Aha！〃　the　count　cried；　pleased。　〃It　isnot　lost　on　you！　Let　us　then　proceed　with　all　haste。〃　And　turning　to　one　side；　he　swept　away　a　heap　of　tumbled　bones；　revealing　a　large　quantity　of　freshly　slaked　mortar。　
　Using　the　trowel；　he　laid　a　thick　line　of　mortar　along　the　front　lip　of　the　recess。　Then　he　moved　to　one　of　the　piles　of　collapsed　brick　and；　two　at　a　time；　brought　the　bricks　back　to　the　niche；　laying　them　carefully　in　a　line　atop　the　mortar。　Within　a　few　minutes；　the　first　course　of　bricks　was　in　place　and　Fosco　was　troweling　another　layer　of　mortar　along　its　top。　
　〃How　wonderful　these　bricks　are！〃　he　said　as　he　worked。　〃They　are　many　centuries　old；　made　from　the　very　clay　of　the　hillside。　See　how　massive：　none　of　your　trifling　English　bricks　for　Fosco！　I've　called　for　a　great　deal　of　lime　in　the　mortar…nearly　two　parts　lime　to　each　part　sand…but　then　I　want　your　final　habitation　to　be　as　strong　as　possible。　I　want　it　to　last　through　the　ages；　my　dear　Pendergast。　I　want　it　to　last　until　the　final　trump　is　sounded！〃　
　Pendergast　said　nothing。　But　his　drug…clouded　eyes　had　cleared。　They　watched　Fosco　work　with　an　almost　feline　stoicism…if；　Fosco　reflected；　stoicism　was　the　correct　word。　Finishing　the　second　course　of　bricks；　he　paused　to　return　the　gaze。　
　〃I've　been　preparing　this　for　some　time；〃　he　said。　〃Quite　some　time；　in　fact。　You　see；　ever　since　our　first　meeting…at　the　memorial　service　for　Jeremy　Grove；　when　we　had　our　little　disagreement　over　the　Ghirlandaio　panel…I　realized　you　were　the　most　formidable　opponent　I　had　ever　faced。〃　
　He　paused；　waiting。　But　still　Pendergast　said　nothing；　did　not　move　except　to　blink　his　eyelids。　And　so　Fosco　returned　to　his　work　and…with　the　energy　of　a　sudden　surge　of　anger…laid　the　third；　fourth；　and　fifth　course　of　bricks。　
　When　he　laid　the　last　brick　of　the　sixth　course　in　place；　he　paused　once　more。　The　brief　anger　had　passed　and　he　was　again　himself。　The　wall　reached　now　to　Pendergast's　waist。　Throwing　back　the　tails　of　his　coat；　Fosco　perched　daintily　on　the　old　pile　of　bricks　to　rest。　His　gaze　fell　almost　kindly　on　the　prisoner。　
　〃You'll　note　I'm　laying　the　bricks　in　Flemish　bond；　alternating　the　headers　with　the　stretchers；〃　he　said。　〃Beautiful；　is　it　not？　I　could　have　been　a　mason；　perhaps；　had　I　so　chosen。　Of　course；　building　such　a　wall　is　time…consuming。　Consider　it　my　final　gift。　Myparting　gift。　You　see；　once　the　last　brick　is　in　place；　it　will　not　take　long…perhaps　a　day；　perhaps　two；　depending　on　how　much　air　seeps　through　these　ancient　walls。　I　am　no　sadist。　Your　death　will　not　be　unduly　prolonged…though　I　imagine　slow　suffocation　in　the　dark　might　not　be　quite　as　merciful　as　one　would　hope。　It　cannot　be　helped。〃　
　He　sat　for　a　moment；　catching　his　breath。　Then　he　went　on；　his　voice　now　almost　meditative。　
　〃Do　not　think；　Signor　Pendergast；　I　take　this　responsibility　lightly。　I　real