CHAPTER 1

The Wrong Door
进错门

This is a story about something that happened long ago when your grandfather was a child. It is a very important story because it shows how all the comings and goings between our own world and the land of Narnia first began.

In those days Mr Sherlock Holmes was still living in Baker Street and the Bastables were looking for treasure in the Lewisham Road. In those days, if you were a boy you had to wear a stiff Eton collar every day, and schools were usually nastier than now. But meals were nicer; and as for sweets, I won’t tell you how cheap and good they were, because it would only make your mouth water in vain. And in those days there lived in London a girl called Polly Plummer.

She lived in one of a long row of houses which were all joined together. One morning she was out in the back garden when a boy scrambled up from the garden next door and put his face over the wall. Polly was very surprised because up till now there had never been any children in that house, but only Mr Ketterley and Miss Ketterley, a brother and sister, old bachelor and old maid, living together. So she looked up, full of curiosity. The face of the strange boy was very grubby. It could hardly have been grubbier if he had first rubbed his hands in the earth, and then had a good cry, and then dried his face with his hands. As a matter of fact, this was very nearly what he had been doing.

“Hullo,” said Polly.

“Hullo,” said the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Polly,” said Polly. “What’s yours?”

“Digory,” said the boy.

“I say, what a funny name!” said Polly.

“It isn’t half so funny as Polly,” said Digory.

“Yes it is,” said Polly.

“No, it isn’t,” said Digory.

“At any rate I do wash my face,” said Polly. “Which is what you need to do; especially after—” and then she stopped. She had been going to say “After you’ve been blubbing,” but she thought that wouldn’t be polite.

“All right, I have then,” said Digory in a much louder voice, like a boy who was so miserable that he didn’t care who knew he had been crying. “And so would you,” he went on, “if you’d lived all your life in the country and had a pony, and a river at the bottom of the garden, and then been brought to live in a beastly Hole like this.”

“London isn’t a Hole,” said Polly indignantly. But the boy was too wound up to take any notice of her, and he went on—

“And if your father was away in India—and you had to come and live with an Aunt and an Uncle who’s mad (who would like that?)—and if the reason was that they were looking after your Mother—and if your Mother was ill and was going to—going to—die.” Then his face went the wrong sort of shape as it does if you’re trying to keep back your tears.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” said Polly humbly. And then, because she hardly knew what to say, and also to turn Digory’s mind to cheerful subjects, she asked:

“Is Mr Ketterley really mad?”

“Well, either he’s mad,” said Digory, “or there’s some other mystery. He has a study on the top floor and Aunt Letty says I must never go up there. Well, that looks fishy to begin with. And then there’s another thing. Whenever he tries to say anything to me at meal times—he never even tries to talk to her —she always shuts him up. She says, ‘Don’t worry the boy, Andrew’ or ‘I’m sure Digory doesn’t want to hear about that’ or else ‘Now, Digory, wouldn’t you like to go out and play in the garden?’”

“What sort of things does he try to say?”

“I don’t know. He never gets far enough. But there’s more than that. One night—it was last night in fact—as I was going past the foot of the attic stairs on my way to bed (and I don’t much care for going past them either) I’m sure I heard a yell.”

“Perhaps he keeps a mad wife shut up there.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of that.”

“Or perhaps he’s a coiner.”

“Or he might have been a pirate, like the man at the beginning of Treasure Island, and be always hiding from his old shipmates.”

“How exciting!” said Polly, “I never knew your house was so interesting.”

“You may think it interesting,” said Digory. “But you wouldn’t like it if you had to sleep there. How would you like to lie awake listening for Uncle Andrew’s step to come creeping along the passage to your room? And he has such awful eyes.”

That was how Polly and Digory got to know one another: and as it was just the beginning of the summer holidays and neither of them was going to the sea that year, they met nearly every day.

Their adventures began chiefly because it was one of the wettest and coldest summers there had been for years. That drove them to do indoor things: you might say, indoor exploration. It is wonderful how much exploring you can do with a stump of candle in a big house, or in a row of houses. Polly had discovered long ago that if you opened a certain little door in the box-room attic of her house you would find the cistern and a dark place behind it which you could get into by a little careful climbing. The dark place was like a long tunnel with brick wall on one side and sloping roof on the other. In the roof there were little chunks of light between the slates. There was no floor in this tunnel: you had to step from rafter to rafter, and between them there was only plaster. If you stepped on this you would find yourself falling through the ceiling of the room below. Polly had used the bit of the tunnel just beside the cistern as a smugglers’ cave. She had brought up bits of old packing cases and the seats of broken kitchen chairs, and things of that sort, and spread them across from rafter to rafter so as to make a bit of floor. Here she kept a cash-box containing various treasures, and a story she was writing and usually a few apples. She had often drunk a quiet bottle of ginger-beer in there: the old bottles made it look more like a smugglers’ cave.

Digory quite liked the cave (she wouldn’t let him see the story) but he was more interested in exploring.

“Look here,” he said. “How long does this tunnel go on for? I mean, does it stop where your house ends?”

“No,” said Polly. “The walls don’t go out to the roof. It goes on. I don’t know how far.”

“Then we could get the length of the whole row of houses.”

“So we could,” said Polly. “And oh, I say!”

“What?”

“We could get into the other houses.”

“Yes, and get taken up for burglars! No thanks.”

“Don’t be so jolly clever. I was thinking of the house beyond yours.”

“What about it?”

“Why, it’s the empty one. Daddy says it’s always been empty since we came here.”

“I suppose we ought to have a look at it then,” said Digory. He was a good deal more excited than you’d have thought from the way he spoke. For of course he was thinking, just as you would have been, of all the reasons why the house might have been empty so long. So was Polly. Neither of them said the word “haunted” . And both felt that once the thing had been suggested, it would be feeble not to do it.

“Shall we go and try it now?” said Digory.

“Alright,” said Polly.

“Don’t if you’d rather not,” said Digory.

“I’m game if you are,” said she.

“How are we to know we’re in the next house but one?”

They decided they would have to go out into the box-room and walk across it taking steps as long as the steps from one rafter to the next. That would give them an idea of how many rafters went to a room. Then they would allow about four more for the passage between the two attics in Polly’s house, and then the same number for the maid’s bedroom as for the box-room. That would give them the length of the house. When they had done that distance twice they would be at the end of Digory’s house; any door they came to after that would let them into an attic of the empty house.

“But I don’t expect it’s really empty at all,” said Digory.

“What do you expect?”

“I expect someone lives there in secret, only coming in and out at night, with a dark lantern. We shall probably discover a gang of desperate criminals and get a reward. It’s all rot to say a house would be empty all those years unless there was some mystery.”

“Daddy thought it must be the drains,” said Polly.

“Pooh! Grown - ups are always thinking of uninteresting explanations,” said Digory. Now that they were talking by daylight in the attic instead of by candlelight in the Smugglers’ Cave it seemed much less likely that the empty house would be haunted.

When they had measured the attic they had to get a pencil and do a sum. They both got different answers to it at first, and even when they agreed I am not sure they got it right. They were in a hurry to start on the exploration.

“We mustn’t make a sound,” said Polly as they climbed in again behind the cistern. Because it was such an important occasion they took a candle each (Polly had a good store of them in her cave).

It was very dark and dusty and draughty and they stepped from rafter to rafter without a word except when they whispered to one another, “We’re opposite your attic now”, or “This must be halfway through our house”. And neither of them stumbled and the candles didn’t go out, and at last they came where they could see a little door in the brick wall on their right. There was no bolt or handle on this side of it, of course, for the door had been made for getting in, not for getting out; but there was a catch (as there often is on the inside of a cupboard door) which they felt sure they would be able to turn.

“Shall I?” said Digory.

“I’m game if you are,” said Polly, just as she had said before. Both felt that it was becoming very serious, but neither would draw back. Digory pushed round the catch with some difficultly. The door swung open and the sudden daylight made them blink. Then, with a great shock, they saw that they were looking, not into a deserted attic, but into a furnished room. But it seemed empty enough. It was dead silent. Polly’s curiosity got the better of her. She blew out her candle and stepped out into the strange room, making no more noise than a mouse.

It was shaped, of course, like an attic, but furnished as a sitting-room. Every bit of the walls was lined with shelves and every bit of the shelves was full of books. A fire was burning in the grate (you remember that it was a very cold wet summer that year) and in front of the fireplace with its back towards them was a high-backed armchair. Between the chair and Polly, and filling most of the middle of the room, was a big table piled with all sorts of things—printed books, and books of the sort you write in, and ink bottles and pens and sealing-wax and a microscope. But what she noticed first was a bright red wooden tray with a number of rings on it. They were in pairs—a yellow one and a green one together, then a little space, and then another yellow one and another green one. They were no bigger than ordinary rings, and no one could help noticing them because they were so bright. They were the most beautiful shiny little things you can imagine. If Polly had been a very little younger she would have wanted to put one in her mouth.

The room was so quiet that you noticed the ticking of the clock at once. And yet, as she now found, it was not absolutely quiet either. There was a faint—a very, very faint—humming sound. If Hoovers had been invented in those days Polly would have thought it was the sound of a Hoover being worked a long way off—several rooms away and several floors below. But it was a nicer sound than that, a more musical tone: only so faint that you could hardly hear it.

“It’s all right; there’s no one here,” said Polly over her shoulder to Digory. She was speaking above a whisper now. And Digory came out, blinking and looking extremely dirty—as indeed Polly was too.

“This is no good,” he said. “It’s not an empty house at all. We’d better bunk before anyone comes.”

“What do you think those are?” said Polly, pointing at the coloured rings.

“Oh come on,” said Digory. “The sooner—”

He never finished what he was going to say for at that moment something happened. The high-backed chair in front of the fire moved suddenly and there rose up out of it—like a pantomime demon coming up out of a trapdoor—the alarming form of Uncle Andrew. They were not in the empty house at all; they were in Digory’s house and in the forbidden study! Both children said “O-o-oh” and realized their terrible mistake. They felt they ought to have known all along that they hadn’t gone nearly far enough.

Uncle Andrew was tall and very thin. He had a long clean-shaven face with a sharply pointed nose and extremely bright eyes and a great tousled mop of grey hair.

Digory was quite speechless, for Uncle Andrew looked a thousand times more alarming than he had ever looked before. Polly was not so frightened yet; but she soon was. For the very first thing Uncle Andrew did was to walk across to the door of the room, shut it, and turn the key in the lock. Then he turned round, fixed the children with his bright eyes, and smiled, showing all his teeth.

“There!” he said. “Now my fool of a sister can’t get at you!”

It was dreadfully unlike anything a grown-up would be expected to do. Polly’s heart came into her mouth, and she and Digory started backing towards the little door they had come in by. Uncle Andrew was too quick for them. He got behind them and shut that door too and stood in front of it. Then he rubbed his hands and made his knuckles crack. He had very long, beautifully white, fingers.

“I am delighted to see you,” he said. “Two children are just what I wanted.”

“Please, Mr Ketterley,” said Polly. “It’s nearly my dinner time and I’ve got to go home. Will you let us out, please?”

“Not just yet,” said Uncle Andrew. “This is too good an opportunity to miss. I wanted two children. You see, I’m in the middle of a great experiment. I’ve tried it on a guinea-pig and it seemed to work. But then a guinea-pig can’t tell you anything. And you can’t explain to it how to come back.”

“Look here, Uncle Andrew,” said Digory, “it really is dinner time and they’ll be looking for us in a moment. You must let us out.”

“Must?” said Uncle Andrew.

Digory and Polly glanced at one another. They dared not say anything, but the glances meant “Isn’t this dreadful?” and “We must humour him.”

“If you let us go for our dinner now,” said Polly, “we could come back after dinner.”

“Ah, but how do I know that you would?” said Uncle Andrew with a cunning smile. Then he seemed to change his mind.

“Well, well,” he said, “if you really must go, I suppose you must. I can’t expect two youngsters like you to find it much fun talking to an old buffer like me.” He sighed and went on. “You’ve no idea how lonely I sometimes am. But no matter. Go to your dinner. But I must give you a present before you go. It’s not every day that I see a little girl in my dingy old study; especially, if I may say so, such a very attractive young lady as yourself.”

Polly began to think he might not really be mad after all.

“Wouldn’t you like a ring, my dear?” said Uncle Andrew to Polly.

“Do you mean one of those yellow or green ones?” said Polly. “How lovely!”

“Not a green one,” said Uncle Andrew. “I’m afraid I can’t give the green ones away. But I’d be delighted to give you any of the yellow ones, with my love: come and try one on.”

Polly had now quite got over her fright and felt sure that the old gentleman was not mad; and there was certainly something strangely attractive about those bright rings. She moved over to the tray.

“Why! I declare,” she said. “That humming noise gets louder here. It’s almost as if the rings were making it.”

“What a funny fancy, my dear,” said Uncle Andrew with a laugh. It sounded a very natural laugh, but Digory had seen an eager, almost a greedy, look on his face.

“Polly! Don’t be a fool!” he shouted. “Don’t touch them.”

It was too late. Exactly as he spoke, Polly’s hand went out to touch one of the rings. And immediately, without a flash or a noise or a warning of any sort, there was no Polly. Digory and his Uncle were alone in the room.

中文阅读

这个故事讲述的事情发生在很久以前，那时候你的祖父还是个孩子。这个故 事非常重要，因为它讲述了我们的世界和纳尼亚大陆之间的来往是如何开始的。

那时候，夏洛克·福尔摩斯先生还住在贝克街，巴斯特布尔一族还在刘易舍姆路寻找宝藏。那时候，如果你是个男孩子，必须每天戴着浆过的伊顿宽硬衣领；那时候的学校通常也比现在的学校更令人讨厌。不过那时候的饭菜却比较可口。至于糖果嘛，我不必告诉你，那时候有多么物美价廉，因为这只会让你白白地流口水。在那些日子里，有一个名叫波利·普卢默的小女孩住在伦敦。

她家的房子与一大排房屋彼此相连。一天早上，她走出房屋，来到后花园，突然看见一个小男孩爬上隔壁花园的墙头，把脑袋探了过来。波利非常吃惊，因为隔壁那幢房子里从来都没有小孩子，只住着凯特利先生和凯特利小姐两个人，他们是一对兄妹，一个是老单身汉，一个是老处女。波利充满好奇地抬头观看，只见那个陌生男孩的脸脏兮兮的。即便他先玩了一通泥巴，接着又嚎啕大哭，然后再用手去抹眼泪，他的脸也不可能更脏了。事实上，他刚才差不多就是这么做的。

“你好！”波利说。

“你好！”那个男孩问，“你叫什么名字？”

“波利。”波利说，“你呢？”

“迪戈里。”男孩答道。

“哎呀，这个名字可真好笑！”波利说。

“还没有波利这个名字一半好笑。”迪戈里说。

“你这个名字是很可笑。”波利说。

“不，一点儿也不可笑。”迪戈里说。

“起码我洗过脸了。”波利说，“那可是你要做的，尤其是在刚刚——”她一下子打住了话头。她本来想说“刚刚嚎啕大哭之后”，但她感到那样说不太礼貌。

“好吧，我确实哭过。”迪戈里提高了嗓门说道，就像是一个特别伤心的男孩子，根本不在乎别人知道他曾经哭过。“你一定也会哭的，”他继续说着，“如果你一直住在乡村，有一匹小马，在花园的尽头还有一条河，而你却被带到这种讨厌的洞窟一样的地方居住。”

“伦敦才不是洞窟呢。”波利愤怒地说。可那个男孩实在是太激动了，根本没有理会她，接着说道——

“如果你爸爸远在印度——你只好过来跟姨妈和一个疯疯癫癫的舅舅住在一起（有谁会喜欢这个？）——就因为他们可以照顾你的妈妈——而你的妈妈病了，而且病得要——要——死。”说到这里，他的脸变得有点痉挛，就像是拼命在忍住泪水的那种样子。

“我不知道这些事情。对不起。”波利愧疚地说。然后，由于不知道该说些什么，同时也想把迪戈里的注意力转移到愉快的话题上，她问道：

“凯特利先生真的疯了么？”

“嗯，他要不是疯了，”迪戈里说，“就是还有些别的秘密。他在顶楼有一个书房，莱蒂姨妈告诫我，绝对不要上那儿去。好吧，这看起来已经很可疑了。但还有另外一件事。每次吃饭时，当他想要对我说些什么——他历来都不怎么跟她说话——她总是让他闭嘴。她说：‘不要打扰这个孩子，安德鲁。’或者是，‘我相信，迪戈里并不想听那件事。’再不就是，‘迪戈里，你想不想出去，到花园里去玩？’”

“他想要说的是什么事儿呢？”

“我不知道。他从来都不多说。但还不止这些。一天晚上——其实就是昨天晚上——我要回卧室去，打顶楼楼梯底下经过（我可不太乐意从那儿经过），我相信自己听到了一声尖叫。”

“没准儿他把发疯的妻子关在上面了。”

“是啊，我也这么想过。”

“说不定他是个造假币的人。”

“也许他曾经当过海盗，就像《金银岛》开头所写的那个海盗，总是在躲避他以前的同伙。”

“真够刺激的！”波利说，“我还不知道你们的房子这么有趣。”

“你可能觉得那很有趣，”迪戈里说，“如果你必须睡在那里，就不会喜欢那个房子了。当躺在床上，听见安德鲁舅舅蹑手蹑脚地走过你房间外面的走廊，你会有什么感觉？再说他的眼睛非常吓人。”

这就是波利和迪戈里初次相识的经过。那时暑假才刚刚开始，那一年他们又都不去海边度假，于是他们俩几乎天天见面。

他们之所以开始探险，主要是由于那个暑假赶上了多年来最多雨阴冷的一个夏天。这迫使他们待在室内活动，你也可以称之为室内探险。拿上一截蜡烛头，就能在一座大房子，或者一大排房子中，进行那么多的探险活动，可真是美妙无比。波利早就发现，如果打开她家顶楼储藏室的一道小门，就能发现蓄水池，还有蓄水池后面那块漆黑的地方。只要小心地攀爬，就能够钻进去。那漆黑的地方就像一条狭长的通道，一边是砖砌的墙壁，另一边是倾斜的屋顶。斑斑点点的光线从屋顶的石板瓦之间照射进来。这条通道没有地板，你必须从一根椽子跨到另一根椽子上，椽子之间抹着灰泥。如果你踩到灰泥上，就会穿过花板，掉落到下面的房间里边。波利将蓄水池旁的那部分通道当做“走私者的洞穴”。她把旧包装箱和破餐椅的椅子面之类的东西带过来，铺在椽子之间，打造成一段地板。在这里她还保存着一只钱箱，里面放着各样宝物，有她正在写的一个故事，往往还会有几个苹果。她时常在那里悄悄地喝上一瓶姜汁啤酒，那些旧酒瓶使之看上去更像是走私者的洞穴了。

迪戈里很喜欢这个洞穴（她不许他读那个故事），而他更感兴趣的则是探险。

“喂，”他说，“这个通道到底有多长？我的意思是，它在你家的房子里就到头了吗？”

“不，”波利说，“那些墙壁不光是通到屋顶，还继续向前延伸。我不知道到底有多长。”

“那么我们可以走到整排房子的尽头了。”

“确实可以。”波利说，“噢，听着！”

“怎么啦？”

“我们可以进到其他房子里面。”

“是啊，然后被当做窃贼抓住！不啦，谢谢。”

“别这么自作聪明。我想的是在你家那一边的那座房子。”

“那又怎么样？”

“嗨，那是座空房子。爸爸说，自从我们搬到这儿来，那里就一直空着。”

“那么，我想我们应该过去看看。”迪戈里说。从他说话的语气上，你很难猜出他内心的激动。当然，他很可能跟你想到一块儿去了，在心里边猜测这座房子闲置这么久的各种原因。波利也不例外。他们两个谁都没有说出“闹鬼”这个词。他们都觉得，既然提到了这件事，如果不去付诸实施，那就是软弱的表现。

“要不我们现在就去试试？”迪戈里说。

“好吧。”波利说道。

“要是你不想去的话，就别勉强。”迪戈里说。

“只要你敢这么做，我也敢。”她说。

“我们怎么才能知道已经到了你家隔壁那座房子呢？”

他们决定，先回到外面的储藏室，从这头沿着椽子一步步走到那头，丈量一下一共需要走多少步。这样就能够知道，一个房间顶上总共有多少根椽子。然后留出大约四根椽子的距离给波利家两个阁楼间的走廊，再加上与储物室同等长度的女仆卧室。这样他们就得到了房屋的长度。当他们把两个这样的长度相加之后，就到了迪戈里家房子的尽头。在那之后，他们遇到的任何一扇门，都可以进入那座空房子的阁楼。

“我并不希望那真的是座空房子。”迪戈里说。

“那你到底希望有些什么呢？”

“我希望有人隐秘地潜伏在那里，他只在夜间提着盏昏暗的灯进进出出。说不定我们会发现一伙铤而走险的罪犯，并因此获得奖赏。说一座房屋空置了那么多年，纯粹是胡说八道，除非有某种秘密。”

“爸爸认为，一定是下水道出了问题。”波利说。

“呸！大人总是能想出一些无聊的解释。”迪戈里说。这会儿，他们是在阁楼的日光下谈话，而不是在“走私者洞穴”的烛光之下，所以那座空房子看起来不大可能闹鬼。

测量了阁楼之后，他们拿来支铅笔进行运算。一开始，他们两个得出了不同的答案，即便他们后来达成了共识，也无法确定他们的计算是否正确。他们迫不及待地想要开始探险。“我们绝不能发出声响。”当他们再次爬到蓄水池后面时，波利说。因为这个行动至关重要，他们每人都拿了一根蜡烛（波利在她的洞穴里储藏了很多蜡烛）。

通道里黑黢黢的，满是灰尘，还有风从缝隙里吹进来。他们从一根椽子跨到另一根椽子上，除了偶尔几句低语“我们现在正对着你家的阁楼”，或者“这一定是到了我们家房子的中间”，他们基本上默不作声。两个人谁都没有磕着绊着，蜡烛也没有熄灭。最后他们终于来到了一个地方，看见右面砖墙上的一扇小门。小门上面没有门闩，也没有把手。这是理所当然的，因为这扇门是用来让人进入，而不是让人离去的。但是门上有个挂钩（就像柜门内侧通常都有的挂钩），他们相信，转动挂钩就可以把门打开。

“我打开门吧？”迪戈里问道。

“要是你敢这么做，我也敢。”波利重复了一遍她先前说过的话。两个人都觉得，事情变得严重起来，但是谁也不愿意退缩。迪戈里略微吃力地拉开挂钩，推开了门，突然涌现的日光使他们忍不住眨了眨眼睛。接着，他们对自己所看到的事物感到大为震惊：出现在他们面前的并不是一个废弃的阁楼，而是一个配备着家具的房间。这个房间看起来空空荡荡，而且鸦雀无声。波利的好奇心终于占了上风。她吹灭手中的蜡烛，像只老鼠一样，悄无声息地踏入了这个奇怪的房间。

房间的形状当然还是阁楼的样子，但布置得像一间客厅，靠着四面的墙壁摆放着书架，书架上摆满了书。壁炉里面生着火（你还记得吧，那个夏天非常阴冷），壁炉前有一把高背扶手椅，背对着他们。在椅子和波利之间，一张大桌子占据了房间中间的大部分空间，上面堆满了各种东西——书籍、手稿、墨水瓶、钢笔、封蜡，还有一架显微镜。她首先注意到一个放着几只戒指的鲜红木托盘。戒指是成双成对的——一只黄色戒指和一只绿色戒指放在一起，隔不多远，放着另一对黄色戒指和绿色戒指。它们跟普通戒指的大小差不多，由于色彩过于鲜艳，每个人都会不由自主地注意到它们。这是一些你所能想象到的最美丽最耀眼的小东西。如果波利再年幼一点儿，她也许会把一只戒指放进嘴里。

这个房间异常安静，你立刻就能听到时钟的滴答声。然而波利此刻也注意到，这里并非完全阒然无声，有一种模糊的——非常非常模糊的——嗡嗡声。如果当时已经发明了胡佛电动吸尘器的话，波利大概会认为那是一台吸尘器在远处——几间房屋之外，几层楼之下——工作时所发出的声响。但是这个嗡嗡声比吸尘器的声音要动听得多，也更富有乐感，只是太微弱，你几乎很难听得出来。

“没关系，这里没有人。”波利扭头对迪戈里说。现在她说话的声音比耳语稍微大了一些。迪戈里走了进来，眨着眼睛，他的样子看上去脏透了——其实波利也跟他差不多。

“这里不太对劲。”他说，“这根本不是一座空房子。我们最好趁着还没有人来，赶快逃走。”

“你认为那是一些什么？”波利指着彩色的戒指问道。

“噢，快点。”迪戈里说，“越快——”

他没来得及把话说完，因为就在那一刻发生了一件事：火炉前面的高背椅突然动了起来，从椅子上站起来的是——就像哑剧中的恶魔从活板门钻了出来——安德鲁舅舅那令人害怕的身形。原来他们并不是在那座空房子中，而是在迪戈里家，在那间禁止入内的书房！两个孩子失声叫道：“啊呀！”他们意识到了自己所犯的可怕错误，在心中暗想，自己早就应该察觉，走过的距离还不够远。

安德鲁舅舅又瘦又高。他长长的脸上长着一个尖尖的鼻子，还有一双贼亮的眼睛，胡子刮得很干净，头顶上满是蓬乱的灰白头发。

迪戈里噤若寒蝉，因为安德鲁舅舅的模样，比以前还要吓人一千倍。波利一开始还不怎么害怕，但很快她也感到了畏惧。因为安德鲁舅舅做的第一件事情，居然是走到房门口，把门关上，还用钥匙在锁孔中转了几圈。然后他转过身来，用那双贼亮的眼睛盯着孩子们，笑了起来，露出满嘴的牙齿。

“你们瞧！”他说，“我那个傻瓜妹妹也帮不了你们了！”

这完全不像一个成年人应该有的言行举止。波利的心提到了嗓子眼儿，她和迪戈里开始慢慢地朝他们进来的小门倒退。安德鲁舅舅可比他们快多了。他冲到他们身后，将那道门也关上了，还站在门口挡着路。随后他搓着手，弄得指关节噼啪作响。他的手指白皙修长，保养得很有型。

“看到你们我很高兴，”他说，“两个小孩子正是我所需要的。”

“求求你了，凯特利先生。”波利说， “我们家该吃午饭了，我得马上回家。请你放我们出去，好吗？”

“这会儿还不行。”安德鲁舅舅说，“这么好的机会，一定不能错过。我需要两个小孩子。你瞧，我的伟大实验刚刚进行到一半。我用一只豚鼠做试验，似乎是成功的。但是一个豚鼠不可能告诉你什么。而你也没办法向它解释，要怎么做才能回来。”

“听我说，安德鲁舅舅，”迪戈里说，“现在确实到吃饭的时间了，很快他们就要来找我们。你必须让我们离开。”

“必须？”安德鲁舅舅问道。

迪戈里和波利互相交换了一个眼神。他们什么也没敢说，但这个眼神的意思是“这难道不可怕吗”和“我们必须顺着他”。

“如果你现在让我们去吃饭，”波利说，“我们饭后可以回来。”

“啊，但我怎么知道你们会回来？”安德鲁舅舅带着狡猾的笑容说道。随后他似乎改变了主意。

“好吧，好吧，”他说，“如果你们真的一定要走，那你们就走吧。我可不指望你们两个小家伙会认为跟我这样的老绅士谈话很有趣。”他叹了一口气，继续说道：“你们不知道，有时我是多么的孤独。但是没关系。去吃饭吧。但在你们走之前，我要送给你们一份礼物。在我这个脏乱的旧书斋里，可不是每天都能看到小女孩的。尤其是，如果允许我这样说的话，像你这样吸引人的年轻女士。”

波利开始认为，也许他并没有真的发疯。

“你想不想要一个戒指，亲爱的？”安德鲁舅舅对波利说。

“你是说这些黄色或是绿色戒指中的一个吗？”波利说道，“好可爱啊！”

“绿色的不行，”安德鲁舅舅说，“恐怕我不能把绿戒指送人。但是我很乐意送给你一只黄戒指，来表表我的心意。来吧，戴一个试试。”

这会儿波利已经完全克服了她的恐惧，确信那位老绅士并没有发疯，而那些鲜艳的戒指的确拥有不可思议的吸引力。她朝托盘走了过去。

“哎呀！可真奇怪，”她说，“在这里那个嗡嗡声变大了。仿佛是那些戒指发出来的声音。”

“多么有趣的幻想啊，亲爱的。”安德鲁舅舅笑着说。那笑声听起来非常自然，但是迪戈里却在他的脸上看到了一种急切的、近乎贪婪的神色。

“波利！别犯傻！”他大叫道，“不要碰它们。”

可是太迟了。就在他说话的当儿，波利的手伸了出去，触碰到一个黄色戒指。顿时，既没有闪光，也没有响声，更没有任何形式的警告，波利就不见了。房间里只剩下迪戈里和他的舅舅。 hMuuI5JsEgL9Ky3U9s/Hxn3aW8mGznEEy/8EoEzroCkOc7Fv1dA6KqrJ9EQh1K8x