“我自己也不怎么暖和。”海伦说着打开了瓶子。“你给你朋友打电话了吗？”
“I’m not so darn warm myself,” Helene said, taking the top off the bottle. “Did you phone your pal?”
“他正在路上。”杰克告诉她。他转向马龙。“他会把车停在小门边。我们能把这个人抬那么远吗？”
“He’s on his way,” Jake told her. He turned to Malone. “He’ll park right by the little gate. Can we carry this guy that far?”
“很容易。”马龙说。他把毯子铺在雪地上，从中间对折起来，在杰克的帮助下，把罗斯·麦克劳林挪到毯子上。然后他把两件大衣盖在那个一动不动的身体上，说：“你拿两个角，我拿两个角，就像抬担架一样。我就知道我在童子军训练中学到的东西会有用处。”他把手电筒和瓶子递给海伦，又说：“看在上帝的份上，别被什么东西绊倒了。那瓶黑麦威士忌是我们仅有的酒了。”
“Easy,” Malone said. He spread the blanket out on the snow, folded down the middle, and, with Jake’s help, slid Ross McLaurin onto it. Then he spread the two overcoats over the still form and said, “You take two corners, and I’ll take two, just like a stretcher. I always knew I’d get some good out of that Boy Scout training.” He handed the flashlight and the bottle to Helene, adding, “For the love of Mike, don’t trip over anything. That bottle of rye is all the liquor we’ve got.”
他们抬着失去知觉的罗斯·麦克劳林，轻松地穿过树林里怪异的黑暗，走过宽阔的白色草坪，来到小门边。
They carried the unconscious Ross McLaurin back through the eerie darkness of the woods, across the broad, white expanse of lawn, and up to the little gate, by easy stages.
他们在那里停下来，等着哈里·科瓦尔克和他的灵车到来。马龙利用这个间歇点了一支雪茄，又拿回了那瓶黑麦威士忌。
There they paused, waiting for the arrival of Harry Kowalke and his hearse. Malone took advantage of the pause to light a cigar and retrieve the bottle of rye.
“当然，”海伦说，“我们来这里是为了监视伊迪莎·文宁。也许马龙应该留在这里保持警惕，而我们把罗斯送回芝加哥。”
“Of course,” Helene said, “we came out here to watch for Editha Venning. Maybe Malone ought to stay out here and keep his eyes open, while we take Ross back to Chicago.”
幸运的是，马龙的回答没有被听到。
Fortunately Malone’s reply was lost.
罗斯·麦克劳林微微动了一下，喃喃地说着：“苍白的手，指尖粉红，像漂浮在……我们曾经居住的芬芳水域上的莲花苞……”然后又陷入了昏迷。
Ross McLaurin stirred faintly and murmured something about, “Pale hands, pink-tipped, like lotus buds that floated—on scented waters where we used to dwell—” and lapsed into unconsciousness again.
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