开始学习，一边尝试翻译魔改。权当磨笔，归为「魔译」。
一个警察正在街上巡逻，样子威武。那股神气劲儿完全是出于习惯，倒不是故意做秀，因为并无人旁观。快到十点的夜晚，寒风带着雨意，早把人都吹回了家。
警棍在他手中，能转得花样百出，边走边检查沿街大门，试试有没有锁好。还保持警惕，不时扫一眼平静的马路。他身材高大，走路稍稍摇摆，是个治安能手。这一带的老百姓早睡早起，只有雪茄烟铺或通宵快餐偶尔还亮着，其余早已打烊。
行至街区一半，他忽然放慢脚步。只见有个男人靠在熄灯的五金店门前，叼着支雪茄没点。他刚一靠近，那人赶紧打招呼。
“没啥事儿，长官，”为让他安心，那人解释道：“我正在等个老朋友，二十年前的约定。听上去会觉得有点不靠谱，是吧？如果您不信，我可以证明一下：那时，此地是个餐馆 —— ’大鸟’贝迪餐馆。”
“五年前还是，”警察点头，“推倒翻建了。”
那人划燃火柴点雪茄，映出一张苍白的脸，方下巴，目光犀利，右边眉侧有道白色的小疤。一颗硕大的钻石，异常扎眼，镶嵌在领带别针上。
“二十年前的今晚，”那人说，“我在这儿，’大鸟’贝迪餐馆，跟杰米·韦尔斯一起吃饭，他是我最好的朋友，也是这世上最好的人。我们就像两兄弟，一起在纽约长大。那时我十八，杰米二十。隔天我就将离去，到西部闯闯。基本上，没人能劝动杰米离开：他觉得纽约是这世上最好的地方。那晚我们商定，二十年后的同日同时，再到这里来见面。无论到时双方的境况如何，不管要从多远的地方赶来。那时就感觉吧，二十年，各自的命运都该定型了，也都该找到位置了。”
“听上去挺有意思，”警察说，“虽然，我觉得时间跨度太长。离开之后，你俩有没有联络？”
“有过一段，我们互相交流，”那人说，“可一两年后，就没再联系。你知道，西部好大，我很忙，东跑西颠的。不过我敢肯定，杰米只要还在世，一定会来。他是这世上最忠诚、最可靠的朋友。他不会忘记的。今晚，我站在这里，如果他也来，就不枉我千里走单骑。”
继续等着，他掏出一块怀表，盖上也镶着小粒钻石，非常漂亮。
“还差三分钟，”他报下时，说，“那天，我们在门口分手的时间是整十点。”
“你在西部混得不错吧？”警察问道。
“那还用说！杰米能有我一半就好了，虽然是个好人，但他太老实。必须跟最精明的人竞争，我才赚得到现在这些。留在纽约，人就会习惯懒惰。在西部，得支棱着磨得像刀锋那样锋利。”
警察挥旋警棍，挪动一两步。
“我得继续巡逻，希望你老友能赴约。如果到点不来，你是不是就放弃了？”
“怎么可能？”那人说，“起码我会再多等他半小时。只要杰米还活着，半小时内准到。再见吧，长官。”
“晚安，先生。”警察道别，继续向前，一路检查门锁。
冰凉细雨如雾落下，风刮个不停。稀疏行人都翻起衣领，双手插进口袋，沉闷静默，急步往返。“大鸟”原址的门口，他吸着雪茄，从一千英里外赶来，跟青年时代的老友约会，玄妙得近乎荒诞，他仍在等。
大概过了二十分钟，对面一个身穿长大衣、翻领遮耳朵的高大汉子，匆匆穿过马路，直直朝他走来。
“鲍勃，真是你吗？”来人发问，有点儿没把握。
“是你吗，杰米 • 韦尔斯？”那人叫嚷起来。
“我的天哪！”来人也喊出来，两双手紧握，“真的是鲍勃，一点没错。我相信，只要还活着，一定能在这里见到。真好啊，真好！ —— 二十年啊，可不短。这餐馆都已经拆了，鲍勃；我真希望它还在，我们可以再在这儿吃上一顿。西部怎么样，对你好吗，老家伙？”
“好得不行，给了我想要的一切。杰米，你变化好大。我感觉，你怎么会比当年高出两三吋。”
“呃，二十岁过后，我又长个儿了。”
“在纽约，你过得不错吧，杰米？”
“就那么回事儿，我在市政部门打工。走吧，鲍勃，让我们去找个熟悉的地方，好好聊聊。”
两个男人挽着胳膊沿街而行。西部来的那人为自己的成功得意洋洋，故事讲得头头是道。高大汉子把自己紧紧裹在大衣里，听得兴味盎然。
街角药房的灯光明亮，两人不约而同，仔细打量对方的脸。
西部来的那人突然立定，抽回手臂。
“你不是杰米 · 韦尔斯，”他的声音尖厉，“二十年再长，也不至于把鹰勾鼻压塌吧？”
“二十年有时能让好人变成坏人，”高大汉子说，“十分钟前，你已经被捕了，’滑头’鲍勃。芝加哥警方发电报说，想跟你聊聊，他们估计你可能会到咱们这儿来。放聪明点，别乱动啊！这样才对。去警局之前，先瞧瞧这个，别人托我转交给你的一张便条。借着橱窗灯光读一读，是韦尔斯巡警给你的。”
西部来的那人展开便条。一开始，他的手很稳，读完后却开始发抖。便条相当短：
鲍勃：我准时到达约会地点。你划火柴点雪茄时，我就发现芝加哥通缉的人是你。我自己下不去手，便寻一位便衣代劳。
—— 杰米
AFTER TWENTY YEARS
By O Henry
The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o’clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.
Trying doors as he went, twirling his club with many intricate and artful movements, turning now and then to cast his watchful eye adown the pacific thoroughfare, the officer, with his stalwart form and slight swagger, made a fine picture of a guardian of the peace. The vicinity was one that kept early hours. Now and then you might see the lights of a cigar store or of an all-night lunch counter; but the majority of the doors belonged to business places that had long since been closed.
When about midway of a certain block the policeman suddenly slowed his walk. In the doorway of a darkened hardware store a man leaned, with an unlighted cigar in his mouth. As the policeman walked up to him the man spoke up quickly.
“It’s all right, officer,” he said, reassuringly. “I’m just waiting for a friend. It’s an appointment made twenty years ago. Sounds a little funny to you, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll explain if you’d like to make certain it’s all straight. About that long ago there used to be a restaurant where this store stands–‘Big Joe’ Brady’s restaurant.”
“Until five years ago,” said the policeman. “It was torn down then.”
The man in the doorway struck a match and lit his cigar. The light showed a pale, square-jawed face with keen eyes, and a little white scar near his right eyebrow. His scarfpin was a large diamond, oddly set.
“Twenty years ago to-night,” said the man, “I dined here at ‘Big Joe’ Brady’s with Jimmy Wells, my best chum, and the finest chap in the world. He and I were raised here in New York, just like two brothers, together. I was eighteen and Jimmy was twenty. The next morning I was to start for the West to make my fortune. You couldn’t have dragged Jimmy out of New York; he thought it was the only place on earth. Well, we agreed that night that we would meet here again exactly twenty years from that date and time, no matter what our conditions might be or from what distance we might have to come. We figured that in twenty years each of us ought to have our destiny worked out and our fortunes made, whatever they were going to be.”
“It sounds pretty interesting,” said the policeman. “Rather a long time between meets, though, it seems to me. Haven’t you heard from your friend since you left?”
“Well, yes, for a time we corresponded,” said the other. “But after a year or two we lost track of each other. You see, the West is a pretty big proposition, and I kept hustling around over it pretty lively. But I know Jimmy will meet me here if he’s alive, for he always was the truest, stanchest old chap in the world. He’ll never forget. I came a thousand miles to stand in this door to-night, and it’s worth it if my old partner turns up.”
The waiting man pulled out a handsome watch, the lids of it set with small diamonds.
“Three minutes to ten,” he announced. “It was exactly ten o’clock when we parted here at the restaurant door.”
“Did pretty well out West, didn’t you?” asked the policeman.
“You bet! I hope Jimmy has done half as well. He was a kind of plodder, though, good fellow as he was. I’ve had to compete with some of the sharpest wits going to get my pile. A man gets in a groove in New York. It takes the West to put a razor-edge on him.”
The policeman twirled his club and took a step or two.
“I’ll be on my way. Hope your friend comes around all right. Going to call time on him sharp?”
“I should say not!” said the other. “I’ll give him half an hour at least. If Jimmy is alive on earth he’ll be here by that time. So long, officer.”
“Good-night, sir,” said the policeman, passing on along his beat, trying doors as he went.
There was now a fine, cold drizzle falling, and the wind had risen from its uncertain puffs into a steady blow. The few foot passengers astir in that quarter hurried dismally and silently along with coat collars turned high and pocketed hands. And in the door of the hardware store the man who had come a thousand miles to fill an appointment, uncertain almost to absurdity, with the friend of his youth, smoked his cigar and waited.
About twenty minutes he waited, and then a tall man in a long overcoat, with collar turned up to his ears, hurried across from the opposite side of the street. He went directly to the waiting man.
“Is that you, Bob?” he asked, doubtfully.
“Is that you, Jimmy Wells?” cried the man in the door.
“Bless my heart!” exclaimed the new arrival, grasping both the other’s hands with his own. “It’s Bob, sure as fate. I was certain I’d find you here if you were still in existence. Well, well, well! –twenty years is a long time. The old gone, Bob; I wish it had lasted, so we could have had another dinner there. How has the West treated you, old man?”
“Bully; it has given me everything I asked it for. You’ve changed lots, Jimmy. I never thought you were so tall by two or three inches.”
“Oh, I grew a bit after I was twenty.”
“Doing well in New York, Jimmy?”
“Moderately. I have a position in one of the city departments. Come on, Bob; we’ll go around to a place I know of, and have a good long talk about old times.”
The two men started up the street, arm in arm. The man from the West, his egotism enlarged by success, was beginning to outline the history of his career. The other, submerged in his overcoat, listened with interest.
At the corner stood a drug store, brilliant with electric lights. When they came into this glare each of them turned simultaneously to gaze upon the other’s face.
The man from the West stopped suddenly and released his arm.
“You’re not Jimmy Wells,” he snapped. “Twenty years is a long time, but not long enough to change a man’s nose from a Roman to a pug.”
“It sometimes changes a good man into a bad one, said the tall man.”You’ve been under arrest for ten minutes, ‘Silky’ Bob. Chicago thinks you may have dropped over our way and wires us she wants to have a chat with you. Going quietly, are you? That’s sensible. Now, before we go on to the station here’s a note I was asked to hand you. You may read it here at the window. It’s from Patrolman Wells.”
The man from the West unfolded the little piece of paper handed him. His hand was steady when he began to read, but it trembled a little by the time he had finished. The note was rather short.
“Bob: I was at the appointed place on time. When you struck the match to light your cigar I saw it was the face of the man wanted in Chicago. Somehow I couldn’t do it myself, so I went around and got a plain clothes man to do the job.
JIMMY.”