Ferran worked in the workshop inside the clock tower. It was a small room full of gears. Some were as big as plates. Some were as small as coins. They hung on hooks and shone with oil.
费兰在钟楼里的工作间干活。那是一间塞满齿轮的小屋。有些齿轮像盘子那么大。有些像硬币那么小。它们挂在挂钩上，沾着油，闪闪发亮。
He was seventeen. Every morning he climbed ninety steps to get there. His job was to clean the gears. He also fixed the clock when it was wrong. The town clockmaker was away for a week. Today Ferran was alone.
他十七岁。每天早上，他要爬九十级台阶才到那里。他的工作是清洁齿轮。钟走错时，他也负责修理。镇上的钟表匠出门一个星期了。今天费兰是一个人。
At noon, the big bell rang twelve times. The floor shook a little. Ferran liked that part.
中午，大钟敲了十二下。地板微微震动。费兰喜欢这一刻。
Soon after, he heard feet on the stairs. His friend Esteban came in, out of breath. Esteban took food to people on a bicycle. He had a brown leather wallet in his hand.
不久以后，他听到楼梯上的脚步声。他的朋友埃斯特万走了进来，气喘吁吁。埃斯特万骑自行车给人送餐。他手里拿着一个棕色皮钱包。
"I found it on the bench by the tower door," Esteban said. "Someone left it there."
“我在钟楼门口的长椅上发现的，”埃斯特万说，“有人把它落在那儿了。”
"So take it to the police."
“那就送去警察局吧。”
"I want to look inside first. Then we know whose it is."
“我想先看看里面。这样我们就知道是谁的了。”
Ferran sighed. He made space on the table. Esteban opened the wallet.
费兰叹了口气。他在桌上腾出一块地方。埃斯特万打开了钱包。
There was no money. There were no cards. There was no name. Inside lay only a flat brass coin and a small white card. The card said, "If found, bring my hour home."
里面没有钱。没有卡。也没有名字。里面只有一枚扁平的黄铜硬币和一张白色小卡片。卡片上写着：“拾到者，请把我的那一个钟点送回家。”
"Bring my hour home?" Esteban said. "What does that mean?"
“把我的钟点送回家？”埃斯特万说，“这是什么意思？”
"I don't know." Ferran picked up the coin. It was warm. On its face there was a tiny clock with thin gold hands. "Look at this."
“我不知道。”费兰拿起硬币。它是温热的。正面有一个小小的钟，指针是细细的金色。“看这个。”
Esteban looked. "It has too many numbers."
埃斯特万看了看。“它的数字太多了。”
Ferran counted. He counted again. "Thirteen," he said. "There are thirteen numbers on this clock."
费兰数了一遍。又数了一遍。“十三个，”他说，“这个钟上有十三个数字。”
"That is not possible."
“这不可能。”
"And listen." Ferran held it near his ear. It ticked, but the sound was strange. It was slow, then fast, then slow again. The little hands turned the wrong way.
“你听。”费兰把它贴近耳朵。它在滴答响，可声音很怪。先慢，再快，然后又慢下来。小小的指针朝反方向转。
"A broken toy," Esteban said.
“一个坏了的玩具，”埃斯特万说。
"Maybe." But Ferran did not think so. His arms felt cold.
“也许吧。”但费兰不这么想。他的胳膊发凉。
They made a plan. First, they were going to find the owner in the normal way. Esteban wrote a sign on the back of a delivery bag. It said, "Wallet found. Ask at the clock tower." They put it on the bench by the door.
他们定了一个计划。首先，要用正常的办法找失主。埃斯特万在一个外卖袋的背面写了一块牌子：“拾到钱包。请到钟楼询问。”他们把它放在门边的长椅上。
Then Esteban jumped on his bicycle. He rode to every shop around the square. He asked the florist and the shoe shop. He asked the man at the news stand. He asked a girl who sold ice cream. He asked two police officers.
然后埃斯特万跳上自行车。他骑遍了广场周围的每一家店。他问了花店和鞋店。他问了报摊的老板。他问了一个卖冰淇淋的女孩。他还问了两位警察。
Nobody had lost a wallet. Nobody knew the coin.
没有人丢过钱包。没有人认识这枚硬币。
At three o'clock, Esteban climbed the stairs again. His shirt was wet, and his face was sad.
三点钟，埃斯特万又爬上楼梯。他的衬衫湿透了，脸上满是沮丧。
"Nothing," he said. "Not one person."
“什么也没有，”他说，“一个人也没有。”
"Nobody came to the sign, either." Ferran looked out of the small window. The bench was empty.
“也没有人来看那块牌子。”费兰望向小窗外。长椅上空无一人。
The wallet sat on the table. It was hot now. The coin ticked faster and faster. Ferran could hear it from across the room.
钱包放在桌上。现在它烫手了。硬币的滴答声越来越快。费兰在屋子另一头都能听到。
"It gets worse," Esteban said. "It wants something."
“越来越糟了，”埃斯特万说，“它想要什么。”
"It wants to go home."
“它想回家。”
"Then why doesn't it just go?"
“那它为什么不自己走？”
Ferran did not answer. He took the card and read it again. "If found, bring my hour home." He read it slowly, word by word. Then he looked up at the great brass wheel on the wall.
费兰没有回答。他拿起卡片又读了一遍。“拾到者，请把我的那一个钟点送回家。”他一个字一个字地慢慢读。然后他抬起头，望向墙上那只巨大的黄铜轮。
"Hour," he said.
“钟点，”他说。
"Yes, hour. So?"
“对，钟点。怎么了？”
Ferran's voice shook a little. "An hour is a bell. Esteban, this tower rings twelve times at noon. It never rings thirteen. But this coin has thirteen numbers."
费兰的声音有点发抖。“一个钟点就是一次钟声。埃斯特万，这座钟楼中午敲十二下。从来不敲十三下。可是这枚硬币上有十三个数字。”
Esteban looked at him. "You think the owner lives at the thirteenth hour?"
埃斯特万看着他。“你觉得失主住在第十三个钟点里？”
"I think the hour between twelve and one is very small. Maybe somebody lives there. And maybe that person lost the wallet on a walk."
“我觉得十二点到一点之间的那一个钟点是很小的。也许有人住在那里。也许那个人散步时把钱包弄丢了。”
It sounded crazy, but they had no better idea.
这听起来很疯狂，但他们没有更好的主意。
The striking wheel was a thick brass circle. It had twelve notches on its edge. Each notch told the bell how many times to ring. Ferran put his finger on the last one.
报时轮是一个厚厚的黄铜圆盘。边缘有十二个凹槽。每个凹槽告诉大钟该敲几下。费兰把手指放在最后一个槽上。
"I can cut a new notch," he said. "Then at four o'clock, I turn the wheel to it. The bell rings thirteen times, not four."
“我可以锉出一个新的凹槽，”他说，“这样到四点钟，我把轮子转到它那里。大钟就会敲十三下，而不是四下。”
"Can you do it fast? It is half past three."
“你能快点吗？现在是三点半。”
"Hold the lamp."
“帮我举着灯。”
Ferran took a small file from the wall. The work was hard. The brass was thick, and his hands shook. He filed a little. He stopped and looked. He filed again.
费兰从墙上取下一把小锉刀。这活很难。黄铜很厚，他的手在发抖。他锉了一点。停下来看看。又锉。
Esteban held the lamp very still. He did not even sneeze.
埃斯特万把灯举得一动不动。他连喷嚏都没敢打。
At ten to four, the notch was ready. It was not pretty, but it was deep and clean. Ferran put the wheel back and closed the little door. Then he turned a small key.
四点差十分，凹槽做好了。它不好看，但又深又干净。费兰把轮子装回去，关上小门。然后他转动了一把小钥匙。
"Now we wait," he said.
“现在我们等着，”他说。
They stood side by side, and the minutes went slowly. The gears turned. The wallet lay on the table and hummed like a kettle.
他们并肩站着，时间过得很慢。齿轮在转动。钱包躺在桌上，像水壶一样嗡嗡作响。
At four o'clock, the bell began.
四点钟，大钟响了。
One. Two. Three. The floor shook under their feet. Four. Five. Six. Ferran held the table with both hands. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
一。二。三。地板在他们脚下震动。四。五。六。费兰双手抓紧桌子。七。八。九。十。十一。十二。
There was a short silence.
出现了一小段寂静。
Then the bell rang again. It was a deep sound, deeper than the others. It felt like the whole tower breathed.
然后钟又响了一下。那是一个低沉的声音，比其他的都要低。感觉像是整座钟楼在呼吸。
Thirteen.
十三。
The air near the big clock face moved. It bent like water. A tall woman stepped out of the glass. She wore a long grey coat and carried a small lamp. Her hair was silver, and her eyes were very bright.
大钟表盘附近的空气动了起来。它像水一样弯曲。一位高个子女士从玻璃里走了出来。她穿着一件灰色长外套，提着一盏小灯。她的头发是银色的，眼睛非常明亮。
"Oh," she said, "there you are!"
“啊，”她说，“原来你在这儿！”
She did not look at the boys. She looked at the wallet. She took it in both hands and held it against her chest.
她没有看那两个男孩。她看着钱包。她用双手接过它，紧紧抱在胸前。
"I lost this on my walk," she said. "I sat on a bench for one minute. I looked up at the birds. When I stood up, the way back was closed. Nobody made the hour sound."
“我散步时把它弄丢了，”她说，“我在长椅上坐了一分钟。我抬头看鸟。等我站起来，回去的路已经关了。没有人敲响那个钟点。”
"We are sorry it took so long," Ferran said.
“很抱歉用了这么久，”费兰说。
"You made a new hour for me." She smiled. "Nobody did that for a very long time."
“你们为我造了一个新的钟点。”她笑了。“很久很久没有人为我做过这样的事了。”
She opened the wallet and took out the brass coin. She pressed it into Esteban's hand.
她打开钱包，取出那枚黄铜硬币。她把它按进埃斯特万的手心。
"One extra minute," she said. "Use it well. It is a small gift from the thirteenth hour."
“多出来的一分钟，”她说，“好好用它。这是第十三个钟点送的一份小礼物。”
Then she turned and walked back into the clock face. The air closed behind her. The room was quiet.
然后她转身走回了表盘。空气在她身后合拢。屋子里安静下来。
Esteban opened his hand. The coin was gone. He looked at his watch. It said ten past four. It seemed to him that he had a little more time.
埃斯特万摊开手。硬币不见了。他看了看手表。四点十分。他觉得自己好像多了一点时间。
"That was one very big bell," he said.
“那钟声可真大，”他说。
"Yes."
“是啊。”
"The whole town will hear it."
“全镇的人都会听到的。”
Ferran looked at the new notch and the file in his hand. "I need to tell the clockmaker. Somehow."
费兰看了看新凿出的凹槽和自己手里的锉刀。“我得告诉钟表匠。不管怎么说。”
Esteban took a deep breath. He walked to the stairs and stopped at the top step.
埃斯特万深吸一口气。他走向楼梯，在最上面一级台阶上停住。
"Ferran," he said. "Next time, I take the wallet to the police."
“费兰，”他说，“下次，我就把钱包送去警察局。”
