03-02-06-诱拐 [1]
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‘What do ye want？’he asked．
‘I've come here with a letter for Mr Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws．Is he here？’
‘Who is it from？’asked the man with the gun．
‘That's none of your business，’I replied，getting angry．
‘Well，put the letter down by the door，and leave．’
‘I will not！’I answered sharply．‘I'm going to give it to Mr Balfour himself．The letter introduces me to him．’
‘Who are ye then？’was the next question．
‘I'm not ashamed of my name． It's David Balfour．’
The man almost dropped his gun．After a long while，he asked in a changed voice，‘Is your father dead？’I was too surprised to answer，but he continued，‘Aye，he must be dead，and that's why ye have come．Well，man，I'll let ye in，’and he disappeared from the window．
Now the door was unlocked，and a voice from the darkness said，‘Go into the kitchen and touch nothing．’I obeyed，while the man locked the heavy door carefully again．I found myself in the emptiest kitchen that I had ever seen．There was a fire，but no other light．On the table was a bowl of porridge and a glass of water，in front of the only chair．Around the walls were several locked chests．There was no other furniture．The man who now appeared in the kitchen was small，mean-looking and white-faced，between fifty and sev enty years old，and wearing a dirty old nightshirt．The worst thing about him was that he could neither take his eyes away from me，nor look straight into my face．
‘If ye're hungry，’he said，‘ye can eat that porridge．It's grand food，porridge！Let me see the letter！’
‘It's for Mr Balfour，not you，’I replied．
‘And who do ye think I am？Give me Alexander's letter！Ye may not like me or my house or my porridge，but I'm your born uncle，Davie，my man！’
This was the end of all my hopes．I was too tired and miser able to speak，so I silently gave him the letter，and sat down to eat the porridge．
‘Your father's been dead a long time？’he asked，giving me a quick look from his sharp eyes．
‘Three weeks，sir，’I said．
‘He was a secretive man，Alexander was．Perhaps he didn't talk much about me？ Or about the house of Shaws？’
‘I never knew he had a brother，sir，or ever heard the name of Shaws．’
‘To think of that！’he replied．‘A strange man！’But he seemed very pleased，and began to look at me with more inter est．Soon he jumped up and said，‘We're going to get on well，Davie！What's mine is yours，man，and what's yours is mine．Blood's thicker than water，and there's only ye and me of the name of Balfour． Now I'll show ye to your bed．’
He took me up some dark stairs and showed me into a room．I could not see anything． ‘Can I have a light，sir？’I asked． ‘No，ye can't．No lights in this house！I'm afraid of fires，ye see．Good night to ye，Davie，my man．’And before I had time to reply，he pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside．The room was very cold，but luckily I had my plaid with me，so I covered myself with it like a blanket，and soon fell asleep．
The next day my uncle and I had a small bowl of porridge and a glass of water for breakfast，lunch and supper．He did not speak much to me，but was clearly thinking hard．I often noticed him looking at me，while pretending to do something different， and he never left me alone in the kitchen with the locked chests，in which，I supposed，he kept his money．I did not like the way he looked at me，and began to wonder if he was a little crazy，and perhaps dangerous．
After supper he said suddenly，‘Davie，I've been thinking．I promised your father a bit of money for ye before ye were born．A promise is a promise—and so I'm going to give ye…forty pounds！’ These last words seemed very painful to him．He added，in a kind of scream，‘Scots！’
A Scottish pound was the same as an English shilling．I could see that his story was a lie，so I laughed at him，saying，‘Oh，think again，sir！English pounds，surely！’
‘That's what I said，'replied my uncle quickly．‘Go outside for a moment，and I'll get the money for ye．’
I was smiling as I went out，sure that he would give me nothing at all．It was a dark night，and I could hear wind in the hills．‘There may be thunder later，’I thought，not knowing how important the weather would be to me that night
‘What do ye want？’he asked．
‘I've come here with a letter for Mr Ebenezer Balfour of Shaws．Is he here？’
‘Who is it from？’asked the man with the gun．
‘That's none of your business，’I replied，getting angry．
‘Well，put the letter down by the door，and leave．’
‘I will not！’I answered sharply．‘I'm going to give it to Mr Balfour himself．The letter introduces me to him．’
‘Who are ye then？’was the next question．
‘I'm not ashamed of my name． It's David Balfour．’
The man almost dropped his gun．After a long while，he asked in a changed voice，‘Is your father dead？’I was too surprised to answer，but he continued，‘Aye，he must be dead，and that's why ye have come．Well，man，I'll let ye in，’and he disappeared from the window．
Now the door was unlocked，and a voice from the darkness said，‘Go into the kitchen and touch nothing．’I obeyed，while the man locked the heavy door carefully again．I found myself in the emptiest kitchen that I had ever seen．There was a fire，but no other light．On the table was a bowl of porridge and a glass of water，in front of the only chair．Around the walls were several locked chests．There was no other furniture．The man who now appeared in the kitchen was small，mean-looking and white-faced，between fifty and sev enty years old，and wearing a dirty old nightshirt．The worst thing about him was that he could neither take his eyes away from me，nor look straight into my face．
‘If ye're hungry，’he said，‘ye can eat that porridge．It's grand food，porridge！Let me see the letter！’
‘It's for Mr Balfour，not you，’I replied．
‘And who do ye think I am？Give me Alexander's letter！Ye may not like me or my house or my porridge，but I'm your born uncle，Davie，my man！’
This was the end of all my hopes．I was too tired and miser able to speak，so I silently gave him the letter，and sat down to eat the porridge．
‘Your father's been dead a long time？’he asked，giving me a quick look from his sharp eyes．
‘Three weeks，sir，’I said．
‘He was a secretive man，Alexander was．Perhaps he didn't talk much about me？ Or about the house of Shaws？’
‘I never knew he had a brother，sir，or ever heard the name of Shaws．’
‘To think of that！’he replied．‘A strange man！’But he seemed very pleased，and began to look at me with more inter est．Soon he jumped up and said，‘We're going to get on well，Davie！What's mine is yours，man，and what's yours is mine．Blood's thicker than water，and there's only ye and me of the name of Balfour． Now I'll show ye to your bed．’
He took me up some dark stairs and showed me into a room．I could not see anything． ‘Can I have a light，sir？’I asked． ‘No，ye can't．No lights in this house！I'm afraid of fires，ye see．Good night to ye，Davie，my man．’And before I had time to reply，he pulled the door shut and locked it from the outside．The room was very cold，but luckily I had my plaid with me，so I covered myself with it like a blanket，and soon fell asleep．
The next day my uncle and I had a small bowl of porridge and a glass of water for breakfast，lunch and supper．He did not speak much to me，but was clearly thinking hard．I often noticed him looking at me，while pretending to do something different， and he never left me alone in the kitchen with the locked chests，in which，I supposed，he kept his money．I did not like the way he looked at me，and began to wonder if he was a little crazy，and perhaps dangerous．
After supper he said suddenly，‘Davie，I've been thinking．I promised your father a bit of money for ye before ye were born．A promise is a promise—and so I'm going to give ye…forty pounds！’ These last words seemed very painful to him．He added，in a kind of scream，‘Scots！’
A Scottish pound was the same as an English shilling．I could see that his story was a lie，so I laughed at him，saying，‘Oh，think again，sir！English pounds，surely！’
‘That's what I said，'replied my uncle quickly．‘Go outside for a moment，and I'll get the money for ye．’
I was smiling as I went out，sure that he would give me nothing at all．It was a dark night，and I could hear wind in the hills．‘There may be thunder later，’I thought，not knowing how important the weather would be to me that night