The Realm Of The Unreal 2

Of one thing I am distinctly conscious: the man's presence at my side was strangely distasteful and disquieting¹ -- so much so that when I at last pulled up under the lights of the Putnam House I experienced a sense of having escaped some spiritual peril²（危险） of a nature peculiarly（特别，尤其） forbidding. This sense of relief was somewhat modified by the discovery that Dr. Dorrimore was living at the same hotel.

In partial explanation of my feelings regarding Dr. Dorrimore I will relate briefly³ the circumstances under which I had met him some years before. One evening a half-dozen men of whom I was one were sitting in the library of the Bohemian Club in San Francisco. The conversation had turned to the subject of sleight-of-hand and the feats⁴ of the prestidigitateurs, one of whom was then exhibiting at a local theatre.

'These fellows are pretenders（伪装者） in a double sense,' said one of the party; 'they can do nothing which it is worth one's while to be made a dupe by. The humblest wayside juggler⁵（行骗者） in India could mystify them to the verge⁶ of lunacy.'

'For example, how?' asked another, lighting⁷ a cigar.

'For example, by all their common and familiar performances -- throwing large objects into the air which never come down; causing plants to sprout⁸（发芽） , grow visibly and blossom, in bare ground chosen by spectators; putting a man into a wicker basket, piercing him through and through with a sword while he shrieks⁹ and bleeds, and then -- the basket being opened nothing is there; tossing the free end of a silken ladder into the air, mounting it and disappearing.'

'Nonsense!' I said, rather uncivilly, I fear. 'You surely do not believe such things?'

'Certainly not: I have seen them too often.'

'But I do,' said a journalist of considerable local fame as a picturesque¹⁰（独特的，生动的） reporter. 'I have so frequently related them that nothing but observation could shake my conviction. Why, gentlemen, I have my own word for it.'

Nobody laughed -- all were looking at something behind me. Turning in my seat I saw a man in evening dress who had just entered the room. He was exceedingly dark, almost swarthy（黝黑的） , with a thin face, black-bearded to the lips, an abundance of coarse black hair in some disorder¹¹, a high nose and eyes that glittered with as soulless an expression as those of a cobra（眼镜蛇） . One of the group rose and introduced him as Dr. Dorrimore, of Calcutta. As each of us was presented in turn he acknowledged the fact with a profound bow in the oriental manner, but with nothing of oriental gravity. His smile impressed me as cynical¹² and a trifle（琐事） contemptuous. His whole demeanour（行为） I can describe only as disagreeably engaging.