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WITH three exceptions, the dates at the head of these stories show when they were published in magazine form. The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat, Regulus, and My Son's Wife carry the dates when they were written.
RUDYARD KIPLING.
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At 9.30 a.m., August 26, a.d. 2065, the Board, sitting in London, was informed by De Forest that the District of Northern Illinois had riotously cut itself out of all systems and would remain disconnected till the Board should take over and administer it direct.
Every Northern Illinois freight and passenger tower was, he reported, out of action; all District main, local, and guiding lights had been extinguished; all General Communications were dumb, and through traffic had been diverted. No reason had been given, but he gathered unofficially from the Mayor of Chicago that the District complained of crowd-making and invasion of privacy.
As a matter of fact, it is of no importance whether Northern Illinois stay in or out of planetary circuit; as a matter of policy, any complaint of invasion of privacy needs immediate investigation, lest worse follow.
By 9.45 a.m. De Forest, Dragomiroff (Russia), Takahira (Japan), and Pirolo (Italy) were empowered to visit Illinois and to take such steps as might be necessary for the resumption of traffic and all that that implies. By 10 a.m. the Hall was empty, and the four Members and I were aboard what Pirolo insisted on calling my leetle godchildthat is to say, the new Victor Pirolo. Our Planet prefers to know Victor Pirolo as a gentle, grey-haired enthusiast who spends his time near Foggia, inventing or creating new breeds of Spanish-Italian olive-trees; but there is another side to his naturethe manufacture of quaint inventions, of which the Victor Pirolo is perhaps, not the least surprising. She and a few score sister-craft of the same type embody his latest ideas. But she is not comfortable. An A.B.C. boat does not take the air with the level-keeled lift of a liner, but shoots up rocket-fashion like the aeroplane of our ancestors, and makes her height at top-speed from the first. That is why I found myself sitting suddenly on the large lap of Eustace Arnott, who commands the A.B.C. Fleet. One knows vaguely that there is such a thing as a Fleet somewhere on the Planet, and that, theoretically, it exists for the purposes of what used to be known as war. Only a week before, while visiting a glacier sanatorium behind Gothaven, I had seen some squadrons making false auroras far to the north while they manoeuvred round the Pole; but, naturally, it had never occurred to me that the things could be used in earnest.
Said Arnott to De Forest as I staggered to a seat on the chart-room divan: Were tremendously grateful to em in Illinois. Weve never had a chance of exercising all the Fleet together. Ive turned in a General Call, and I expect well have at least two hundred keels aloft this evening.
Well aloft? De Forest asked.
Of course, sir. Out of sight till theyre called for.
Arnott laughed as he lolled over the transparent chart-table where the map of the summer-blue Atlantic slid along, degree by degree, in exact answer to our progress. Our dial already showed 320 m.p.h. and we were two thousand feet above the uppermost traffic lines.
Now, where is this Illinois District of yours? said Dragomiroff. One travels so much, one sees so little. Oh, I remember! It is in North America.
De Forest, whose business it is to know the out districts, told us that it lay at the foot of Lake Michigan, on a road to nowhere in particular, was about half an hours run from end to end, and, except in one corner, as flat as the sea. Like most flat countries nowadays, it was heavily guarded against invasion of privacy by forced timberfifty-foot spruce and tamarack, grown in five years. The population was close on two millions, largely migratory between Florida and California, with a backbone of small farms (they call a thousand acres a farm in Illinois) whose owners come into Chicago for amusements and society during the winter. They were, he said noticeably kind, quiet folk, but a little exacting, as all flat countries must be, in their notions of privacy. There had, for instance, been no printed news-sheet in Illinois for twenty-seven years. Chicago argued that engines for printed news sooner or later developed into engines for invasion of privacy, which in turn might bring the old terror of Crowds and blackmail back to the Planet. So news-sheets were not.
And thats Illinois, De Forest concluded. You see, in the Old Days, she was in the fore-front of what they used to call progress, and Chicago
Chicago? said Takahira. Thats the little place where there is Salatis Statue of the Nigger in Flames. A fine bit of old work.
When did you see it ? asked De Forest quickly. They only unveil it once a year.
I know. At Thanksgiving. It was then, said Takahira, with a shudder. And they sang MacDonoughs Song, too.
Whew! De Forest whistled. I did not know that! I wish youd told me before. MacDonoughs Song may have had its uses when it was composed, but it was an infernal legacy for any man to leave behind.
Its protective instinct, my dear fellows, said Pirolo, rolling a cigarette. The Planet, she has had her dose of popular government. She suffers from inherited agoraphobia. She has noahuse for crowds.
Dragomiroff leaned forward to give him a light. Certainly, said the white-bearded Russian, the Planet has taken all precautions against crowds for the past hundred years. What is our total population today? Six hundred million, we hope; five hundred, we think; butbut if next years census shows more than four hundred and fifty, I myself will eat all the extra little babies. We have cut the birth-rate outright out! For a long time we have said to Almighty God, Thank You, Sir, but we do not much like Your game of life, so we will not play.
Anyhow, said Arnott defiantly, men live a century apiece on the average now.
Oh, that is quite well! I am richyou are richwe are all rich and happy because we are so few and we live so long. Only I think Almighty God He will remember what the Planet was like in the time of Crowds and the Plague. Perhaps He will send us nerves. Eh, Pirolo
The Italian blinked into space. Perhaps, he said, He has sent them already. Anyhow, you cannot argue with the Planet. She does not forget the Old Days, andwhat can you do?
For sure we cant remake the world. De Forest glanced at the map flowing smoothly across the table from west to east. We ought to be over our ground by nine to-night. There wont be much sleep afterwards.
On which hint we dispersed, and I slept till Takahira waked me for dinner. Our ancestors thought nine hours sleep ample for their little lives. We, living thirty years longer, feel ourselves defrauded with less than eleven out of the twenty-four.
By ten oclock we were over Lake Michigan. The west shore was lightless, except for a dull ground-glare at Chicago, and a single traffic-directing lightits leading beam pointing northat Waukegan on our starboard bow. None of the Lake villages gave any sign of life; and inland, westward, so far as we could see, blackness lay unbroken on the level earth. We swooped down and skimmed low across the dark, throwing calls county by county. Now and again we picked up the faint glimmer of a house-light, or heard the rasp and rend of a cultivator being played across the fields, but Northern Illinois as a whole was one inky, apparently uninhabited, waste of high, forced woods. Only our illuminated map, with its little pointer switching from county to county, as we wheeled and twisted, gave us any idea of our position. Our calls, urgent, pleading, coaxing or commanding, through the General Communicator brought no answer. Illinois strictly maintained her own privacy in the timber which she grew for that purpose.
Oh, this is absurd! said De Forest. Were like an owl trying to work a wheat-field. Is this Bureau Creek? Lets land, Arnott, and get hold of someone.
We brushed over a belt of forced woodlandfifteen-year-old maple sixty feet highgrounded on a private meadow-dock, none too big, where we moored to our own grapnels, and hurried out through the warm dark night towards a light in a verandah. As we neared the garden gate I could have sworn we had stepped knee-deep in quicksand, for we could scarcely drag our feet against the prickling currents that clogged them. After five paces we stopped, wiping our foreheads, as hopelessly stuck on dry smooth turf as so many cows in a bog.
Pest ! cried Pirolo angrily. We are ground-circuited. And it is my own system of ground-circuits too! I know the pull.
Good evening, said a girls voice from the verandah. Oh, Im sorry! Weve locked up. Wait a minute.
We heard the click of a switch, and almost fell forward as the currents round our knees were withdrawn.
The girl laughed, and laid aside her knitting. An old-fashioned Controller stood at her elbow, which she reversed from time to time, and we could hear the snort and clank of the obedient cultivator half a mile away, behind the guardian woods.
Come in and sit down, she said. Im only playing a plough. Dads gone to Chicago toAh! Then it was your call I heard just now!
She had caught sight of Arnotts Board uniform, leaped to the switch, and turned it full on.
We were checked, gasping, waist-deep in current this time, three yards from the verandah.
We only want to know whats the matter with Illinois, said De Forest placidly.
Then hadnt you better go to Chicago and find out? she answered. Theres nothing wrong here. We own ourselves.
How can we go anywhere if you wont loose us? De Forest went on, while Arnott scowled. Admirals of Fleets are still quite human when their dignity is touched.
Stop a minuteyou dont know how funny you look! She put her hands on her hips and laughed mercilessly.
Dont worry about that, said Arnott, and whistled. A voice answered from the Victor Pirolo in the meadow.
Only a single-fuse ground-circuit! Arnott called. Sort it out gently, please.
We heard the ping of a breaking lamp; a fuse blew out somewhere in the verandah roof, frightening a nest full of birds. The groud-circuit was open. We stooped and rubbed our tingling ankles.
How rudehow very rude of you! the maiden cried.
Sorry, but we havent time to look funny, said Arnott. Weve got to go to Chicago; and if I were you, young lady, Id go into the cellars for the next two hours, and take mother with me.
Off he strode, with us at his heels, muttering indignantly, till the humour of the thing struck and doubled him up with laughter at the foot of the gangway ladder.
The Board hasnt shown what you might call a fat spark on this occasion, said De Forest, wiping his eyes. I hope I didnt look as big a fool as you did, Arnott! Hullo! What on earth is that? Dad coming home from Chicago?
There was a rattle and a rush, and a five-plough cultivator, blades in air like so many teeth, trundled itself at us round the edge of the timber, fuming and sparking furiously.
Jump! said Arnott, as we hurled ourselves through the none-too-wide door. Never mind about shutting it. Up!
The Victor Pirolo lifted like a bubble, and the vicious machine shot just underneath us, clawing high as it passed.
Theres a nice little spit-kitten for you! said Arnott, dusting his knees. We ask her a civil question. First she circuits us and then she plays a cultivator at us!
And then we fly, said Dragomirof. If I were forty years more young, I would go back and kiss her. Ho! Ho!
I, said Pirolo, would smack her! My pet ship has been chased by a dirty plough; ahow do you say?agricultural implement.
Oh, that is Illinois all over, said De Forest. They dont content themselves with talking about privacy. They arrange to have it. And now, wheres your alleged fleet, Arnott? We must assert ourselves against this wench.
Arnott pointed to the black heavens. Waiting onup there, said he. Shall I give them the whole installation, sir?
Oh, I dont think the young lady is quite worth that, said De Forest. Get over Chicago, and perhaps well see something.
In a few minutes we were hanging at two thousand feet over an oblong block of incandescence in the centre of the little town.
That looks like the old City Hall. Yes, theres Salatis Statue in front of it, said Takahira.
But what on earth are they doing to the place? I thought they used it for a market nowadays! Drop a little, please.
We could hear the sputter and crackle of road-surfacing machinesthe cheap Western type which fuse stone and rubbish into lava-like ribbed glass for their rough country roads. Three or four surfacers worked on each side of a square of ruins. The brick and stone wreckage crumbled, slid forward, and presently spread out into white-hot pools of sticky slag, which the levelling-rods smoothed more or less flat. Already a third of the big block had been so treated, and was cooling to dull red before our astonished eyes.
It is the Old Market, said De Forest. Well, theres nothing to prevent Illinois from making a road through a market. It doesnt interfere with traffic, that I can see.
Hsh! said Arnott, gripping me by the shoulder. Listen ! Theyre singing. Why on the earth are they singing?
We dropped again till we could see the black fringe of people at the edge of that glowing square.
At first they only roared against the roar of the surfacers and levellers. Then the words came up clearlythe words of the Forbidden Song that all men knew, and none let pass their lipspoor Pat MacDonoughs Song, made in the days of the Crowds and the Plagueevery silly word of it loaded to sparking-point with the Planets inherited memories of horror, panic, fear and cruelty. And Chicagoinnocent, contented little Chicagowas singing it aloud to the infernal tune that carried riot, pestilence and lunacy round our Planet a few generations ago!
Once there was The PeopleTerror gave it birth; Once there was The People, and it made a hell of earth! |
(Then the stamp and pause):
Earth arose and crushed it. Listen, oh, ye slain! Once there was The Peopleit shall never be again! |
The levellers thrust in savagely against the ruins as the song renewed itself again, again and again, louder than the crash of the melting walls.
De Forest frowned.
I dont like that, he said. Theyve broken back to the Old Days! Theyll be killing somebody soon. I think wed better divert em, Arnott.
Ay, ay, sir. Arnotts hand went to his cap, and we heard the hull of the Victor Pirolo ring to the command: Lamps! Both watches stand by! Lamps! Lamps! Lamps !
Keep still! Takahira whispered to me. Blinkers, please, quartermaster.
Its all rightall right ! said Pirolo from behind, and to my horror slipped over my head some sort of rubber helmet that locked with a snap. I could feel thick colloid bosses before my eyes, but I stood in absolute darkness.
To save the sight, he explained, and pushed me on to the chart-room divan. You will see in a minute.
As he spoke I became aware of a thin thread of almost intolerable light, let down from heaven at an immense distanceone vertical hairs breadth of frozen lightning.
Those are our flanking ships, said Arnott at my elbow. That one is over Galena. Look souththat other ones over Keithburg. Vincennes is behind us, and north yonder is Winthrop Woods. The Fleets in position, sirthis to De Forest. As soon as you give the word.
Ah no! No! cried Dragomiroff at my side. I could feel the old man tremble. I do not know all that you can do, but be kind! I ask you to be a little kind to them below! This is horrible horrible!
When a Woman kills a Chicken, Dynasties and Empires sicken, |
Takahira quoted. It is too late to be gentle now.
Then take off my helmet! Take off my helmet! Dragomiroff began hysterically.
Pirolo must have put his arm round him.
Hush, he said, I am here. It is all right, Ivan, my dear fellow.
Ill just send our little girl in Bureau County a warning, said Arnott. She dont deserve it, but well allow her a minute or two to take mamma to the cellar.
In the utter hush that followed the growling spark after Arnott had linked up his Service Communicator with the invisible Fleet, we heard MacDonoughs Song from the city beneath us grow fainter as we rose to position. Then I clapped my hand before my mask lenses, for it was as though the floor of Heaven had been riddled and all the inconceivable blaze of suns in the making was poured through the manholes.
You neednt count, said Arnott. I had had no thought of such a thing. There are two hundred and fifty keels up there, five miles apart. Full power, please, for another twelve seconds.
The firmament, as far as eye could reach, stood on pillars of white fire. One fell on the glowing square at Chicago, and turned it black.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Can men be allowed to do such things? Dragomiroff cried, and fell across our knees.
Glass of water, please, said Takahira to a helmeted shape that leaped forward. He is a little faint.
The lights switched off, and the darkness stunned like an avalanche. We could hear Dragomiroffs teeth on the glass edge.
Pirolo was comforting him.
All right, all ra-ight, he repeated. Come and lie down. Come below and take off your mask. I give you my word, old friend, it is all right. They are my siege-lights. Little Victor Pirolos leetle lights. You know me! I do not hurt people.
Pardon! Dragomiroff moaned. I have never seen Death. I have never seen the Board take action. Shall we go down and burn them alive, or is that already done?
Oh, hush, said Pirolo, and I think he rocked him in his arms.
Do we repeat, sir? Arnott asked De Forest.
Give em a minutes break, De Forest replied. They may need it.
We waited a minute, and then MacDonoughs Song, broken but defiant, rose from undefeated Chicago.
They seem fond of that tune, said De Forest. I should let em have it, Arnott.
Very good, sir, said Arnott, and felt his way to the Communicator keys.
No lights broke forth, but the hollow of the skies made herself the mouth for one note that touched the raw fibre of the brain. Men hear such sounds in delirium, advancing like tides from horizons beyond the ruled foreshores of space.
Thats our pitch-pipe, said Arnott. We may be a bit ragged. Ive never conducted two hundred and fifty performers before. He pulled out the couplers, and struck a full chord on the Service Communicators.
The beams of light leaped down again, and danced, solemnly and awfully, a stilt-dance, sweeping thirty or forty miles left and right at each stiff-legged kick, while the darkness delivered itselfthere is no scale to measure against that utteranceof the tune to which they kept time. Certain notesone learnt to expect them with terrorcut through ones marrow, but, after three minutes, thought and emotion passed in indescribable agony.
We saw, we heard, but I think we were in some sort swooning. The two hundred and fifty beams shifted, re-formed, straddled and split, narrowed, widened, rippled in ribbons, broke into a thousand white-hot parallel lines, melted and revolved in interwoven rings like old-fashioned engine-turning, flung up to the zenith, made as if to descend and renew the torment, halted at the last instant, twizzled insanely round the horizon, and vanished, to bring back for the hundredth time darkness more shattering than their instantly renewed light over all Illinois. Then the tune and lights ceased together, and we heard one single devastating wail that shook all the horizon as a rubbed wet finger shakes the rim of a bowl.
Ah, that is my new siren, said Pirolo. You can break an iceberg in half, if you find the proper pitch. They will whistle by squadrons now. It is the wind through pierced shutters in the bows.
I had collapsed beside Dragomiroff, broken and snivelling feebly, because I had been delivered before my time to all the terrors of Judgment Day, and the Archangels of the Resurrection were hailing me naked across the Universe to the sound of the music of the spheres.
Then I saw De Forest smacking Arnotts helmet with his open hand. The wailing died down in a long shriek as a black shadow swooped past us, and returned to her place above the lower clouds.
I hate to interrupt a specialist when hes enjoying himself, said De Forest. But, as a matter of fact, all Illinois has been asking us to stop for these last fifteen seconds.
What a pity. Arnott slipped off his mask. I wanted you to hear us really hum. Our lower C can lift street-paving.
It is HellHell! cried Dragomiroff, and sobbed aloud.
Arnott looked away as he answered: Its a few thousand volts ahead of the old shoot-em-and-sink-em game, but I should scarcely call it that. What shall I tell the Fleet, sir ?
Tell em were very pleased and impressed. I dont think they need wait on any longer. There isnt a spark left down there. De Forest pointed. Theyll be deaf and blind.
Oh, I think not, sir. The demonstration lasted less than ten minutes.
Marvellous! Takahira sighed. I should have said it was half a night. Now, shall we go down and pick up the pieces?
But first a small drink, said Pirolo. The Board must not arrive weeping at its own works.
I am an old foolan old fool! Dragomiroff began piteously. I did not know what would happen. It is all new to me. We reason with them in Little Russia.
Chicago North landing-tower was unlighted, and Arnott worked his ship into the clips by her own lights. As soon as these broke out we heard groanings of horror and appeal from many people below.
All right, shouted Arnott into the darkness. We arent beginning again! We descended by the stairs, to find ourselves knee deep in a grovelling crowd, some crying that they were blind, others beseeching us not to make any more noises, but the greater part writhing face downward, their hands or their caps before their eyes.
It was Pirolo who came to our rescue. He climbed the side of a surfacing-machine, and there, gesticulating as though they could see, made oration to those afflicted people of Illinois.
You stchewpids! he began. There is nothing to fuss for. Of course, your eyes will smart and be red to-morrow. You will look as if you and your wives had drunk too much, but in a little while you will see again as well as before. I tell you this, and II am Pirolo. Victor Pirolo!
The crowd with one accord shuddered, for many legends attach to Victor Pirolo of Foggia, deep in the secrets of God.
Pirolo? An unsteady voice lifted itself. Then tell us was there anything except light in those lights of yours just now?
The question was repeated from every corner of the darkness.
Pirolo laughed.
No! he thundered. (Why have small men such large voices) I give you my word and the Boards word that there was nothing except lightjust light! You stchewpids! Your birth-rate is too low already as it is. Some day I must invent something to send it up, but send it downnever!
Is that true?We thoughtsomebody said
One could feel the tension relax all round.
You too big fools, Pirolo cried. You could have sent us a call and we would have told you.
Send you a call! a deep voice shouted. I wish you had been at our end of the wire.
Im glad I wasnt, said De Forest. It was bad enough from behind the lamps. Never mind! Its over now. Is there any one here I can talk business with? Im De Forestfor the Board.
You might begin with me, for oneIm Mayor, the bass voice replied.
A big man rose unsteadily from the street, and staggered towards us where we sat on the broad turf-edging, in front of the garden fences.
I ought to be the first on my feet. Am I? said he.
Yes, said De Forest, and steadied him as he dropped down beside us.
Hello, Andy. Is that you? a voice called.
Excuse me, said the Mayor; that sounds like my Chief of Police, Bluthner!
Bluthner it is; and heres Mulligan and Keefeon their feet.
Bring em up please, Blut. Were supposed to be the Four in charge of this hamlet. What we says, goes. And, De Forest, what do you say?
Nothingyet, De Forest answered, as we made room for the panting, reeling men. Youve cut out of system. Well?
Tell the steward to send down drinks, please, Arnott whispered to an orderly at his side.
Good! said the Mayor, smacking his dry lips. Now I suppose we can take it, De Forest, that henceforward the Board will administer us direct?
Not if the Board can avoid it, De Forest laughed. The A.B.C. is responsible for the planetary traffic only.
And all that that implies. The big Four who ran Chicago chanted their Magna Charta like children at school.
Well, get on, said De Forest wearily. What is your silly trouble anyway?
Too much dam Democracy, said the Mayor, laying his hand on De Forests knee.
So? I thought Illinois had had her dose of that.
She has. Thats why. Blut, what did you do with our prisoners last night?
Locked em in the water-tower to prevent the women killing em, the Chief of Police replied. Im too blind to move just yet, but
Arnott, send some of your people, please, and fetch em along, said De Forest.
Theyre triple-circuited, the Mayor called. Youll have to blow out three fuses. He turned to De Forest, his large outline just visible in the paling darkness. I hate to throw any more work on the Board. Im an administrator myself, but weve had a little fuss with our Serviles. What? In a big city theres bound to be a few men and women who cant live without listening to themselves, and who prefer drinking out of pipes they dont own both ends of. They inhabit flats and hotels all the year round. They say it saves em trouble. Anyway, it gives em more time to make trouble for their neighbours. We call em Serviles locally. And they are apt to be tuberculous.
Just so! said the man called Mulligan. Transportation is Civilisation. Democracy is Disease. Ive proved it by the blood-test, every time.
Mulligans our Health Officer, and a one-idea man, said the Mayor, laughing. But its true that most Serviles havent much control. They will talk; and when people take to talking as a business, anything may arrivemaynt it, De Forest?
Anythingexcept the facts of the case, said De Forest, laughing.
Ill give you those in a minute, said the Mayor. Our Serviles got to talkingfirst in their houses and then on the streets, telling men and women how to manage their own affairs. (You cant teach a Servile not to finger his neighbours soul.) Thats invasion of privacy, of course, but in Chicago well suffer anything sooner than make crowds. Nobody took much notice, and so I let em alone. My fault! I was warned there would be trouble, but there hasnt been a crowd or murder in Illinois for nineteen years.
Twenty-two, said his Chief of Police.
Likely. Anyway, wed forgot such things. So, from talking in the houses and on the streets, our Serviles go to calling a meeting at the Old Market yonder. He nodded across the square where the wrecked buildings heaved up grey in the dawn-glimmer behind the square-cased statue of The Negro in Flames. Theres nothing to prevent anyone calling meetings except that its against human nature to stand in a crowd, besides being bad for the health. I ought to have known by the way our men and women attended that first meeting that trouble was brewing. There were as many as a thousand in the market-place, touching each other. Touching! Then the Serviles turned in all tongue-switches and talked, and we
What did they talk about? said Takahira.
First, how badly things were managed in the city. That pleased us Fourwe were on the platformbecause we hoped to catch one or two good men for City work. You know how rare executive capacity is. Even if we didnt itsits refreshing to find any one interested enough in our job to damn our eyes. You dont know what it means to work, year in, year out, without a spark of difference with a living soul.
Oh, dont we! said De Forest. There are times on the Board when wed give our positions if any one would kick us out and take hold of things themselves.
But they wont, said the Mayor ruefully. I assure you, sir, we Four have done things in Chicago, in the hope of rousing people, that would have discredited Nero. But what do they say? Very good, Andy. Have it your own way. Anythings better than a crowd. Ill go back to my land. You cant do anything with folk who can go where they please, and dont want anything on Gods earth except their own way. There isnt a kick or a kicker left on the Planet.
Then I suppose that little shed yonder fell down by itself? said De Forest. We could see the bare and still smoking ruins, and hear the slag-pools crackle as they hardened and set.
Oh, thats only amusement. Tell you later. As I was saying, our Serviles held the meeting, and pretty soon we had to ground-circuit the platform to save em from being killed. And that didnt make our people any more pacific.
How dyou mean? I ventured to ask.
If youve ever been ground-circuited, said the Mayor, youll know it dont improve any mans temper to be held up straining against nothing. No, sir! Eight or nine hundred folk kept pawing and buzzing like flies in treacle for two hours, while a pack of perfectly safe Serviles invades their mental and spiritual privacy, may be amusing to watch, but they are not pleasant to handle afterwards.
Pirolo chuckled.
Our folk own themselves. They were of opinion things were going too far and too fiery. I warned the Serviles; but theyre born house-dwellers. Unless a fact hits em on the head, they cannot see it. Would you believe me, they went on to talk of what they called popular government? They did! They wanted us to go back to the old Voodoo-business of voting with papers and wooden boxes, and word-drunk people and printed formulas, and news-sheets! They said they practised it among themselves about what theyd have to eat in their flats and hotels. Yes, sir! They stood up behind Bluthners doubled ground-circuits, and they said that, in this present year of grace, to self-owning men and women, on that very spot! Then they finishedhe lowered his voice cautiouslyby talking about The People. And then Bluthner he had to sit up all night in charge of the circuits because he couldnt trust his men to keep em shut.
It was trying em too high, the Chief of Police broke in. But we couldnt hold the crowd ground-circuited for ever. I gathered in all the Serviles on charge of crowd-making, and put em in the water-tower, and then I let things cut loose. I had to! The District lit like a sparked gas-tank!
The news was out over seven degrees of country, the Mayor continued; and when once its a question of invasion of privacy, good-bye to right and reason in Illinois! They began turning out traffic-lights and locking up landing-towers on Thursday night. Friday, they stopped all traffic and asked for the Board to take over. Then they wanted to clean Chicago off the side of the Lake and rebuild elsewherejust for a souvenir of The People that the Serviles talked about. I suggested that they should slag the Old Market where the meeting was held, while I turned in a call to you all on the Board. That kept em quiet till you came along. Andand now you can take hold of the situation.
Any chance of their quieting down? De Forest asked.
You can try, said the Mayor.
De Forest raised his voice in the face of the reviving crowd that had edged in towards us. Day was come.
Dont you think this business can be arranged? he began. But there was a roar of angry voices:
Weve finished with Crowds! We arent going back to the Old Days! Take us over! Take the Serviles away! Administer direct or well kill em! Down with The People!
An attempt was made to begin MacDonoughs Song. It got no further than the first line, for the Victor Pirolo sent down a warning drone on one stopped horn. A wrecked side-wall of the Old Market tottered and fell inwards on the slag-pools. None spoke or moved till the last of the dust had settled down again, turning the steel case of Salatis Statue ashy grey.
You see youll just have to take us over, the Mayor whispered.
De Forest shrugged his shoulders.
You talk as if executive capacity could be snatched out of the air like so much horse-power. Cant you manage yourselves on any terms? he said.
We can, if you say so. It will only cost those few lives to begin with.
The Mayor pointed across the square, where Arnotts men guided a stumbling group of ten or twelve men and women to the lake front and halted them under the Statue.
Now I think, said Takahira under his breath, there will be trouble.
The mass in front of us growled like beasts.
At that moment the sun rose clear, and revealed the blinking assembly to itself. As soon as it realised that it was a crowd we saw the shiver of horror and mutual repulsion shoot across it precisely as the steely flaws shot across the lake outside. Nothing was said, and, being half blind, of course it moved slowly. Yet in less than fifteen minutes most of that vast multitudethree thousand at the lowest countmelted away like frost on south eaves. The remnant stretched themselves on the grass, where a crowd feels and looks less like a crowd.
These mean business, the Mayor whispered to Takahira. There are a goodish few women there whove borne children. I dont like it.
The morning draught off the lake stirred the trees round us with promise of a hot day; the sun reflected itself dazzlingly on the canister-shaped covering of Salatis Statue; cocks crew in the gardens, and we could hear gate-latches clicking in the distance as people stumblingly resought their homes.
Im afraid there wont be any morning deliveries, said De Forest. We rather upset things in the country last night.
That makes no odds, the Mayor returned. Were all provisioned for six months. We take no chances.
Nor, when you come to think of it, does anyone else. It must be three-quarters of a generation since any house or city faced a food shortage. Yet is there house or city on the Planet today that has not half a years provisions laid in? We are like the shipwrecked seamen in the old books, who, having once nearly starved to death, ever afterwards hide away bits of food and biscuit. Truly we trust no Crowds, nor system based on Crowds!
De Forest waited till the last footstep had died away. Meantime the prisoners at the base of the Statue shuffled, posed and fidgeted, with the shamelessness of quite little children. None of them were more than six feet high, and many of them were as grey-haired as the ravaged, harassed heads of old pictures. They huddled together in actual touch, while the crowd, spaced at large intervals, looked at them with congested eyes.
Suddenly a man among them began to talk. The Mayor had not in the least exaggerated. It appeared that our Planet lay sunk in slavery beneath the heel of the Aerial Board of Control. The orator urged us to arise in our might, burst our prison doors and break our fetters (all his metaphors, by the way, were of the most medieval). Next he demanded that every matter of daily life, including most of the physical functions, should be submitted for decision at any time of the week, month, or year to, I gathered, anybody who happened to be passing by or residing within a certain radius, and that everybody should forthwith abandon his concerns to settle the matter, first by crowd-making, next by talking to the crowds made, and lastly by describing crosses on pieces of paper, which rubbish should later be counted with certain mystic ceremonies and oaths. Out of this amazing play, he assured us, would automatically arise a higher, nobler, and kinder world, basedhe demonstrated this with the awful lucidity of the insanebased on the sanctity of the Crowd and the villainy of the single person. In conclusion, he called loudly upon God to testify to his personal merits and integrity. When the flow ceased, I turned bewildered to Takahira, who was nodding solemnly.
Quite correct, said he It is all in the old books. He has left nothing out, not even the war-talk.
But I dont see how this stuff can upset a child, much less a district, I replied.
Ah, you are too young, said Dragomiroff. For another thing, you are not a mamma. Please look at the mammas.
Ten or fifteen women who remained had separated themselves from the silent men, and were drawing in towards the prisoners. It reminded one of the stealthy encircling, before the rush in at the quarry, of wolves round musk oxen in the North. The prisoners saw, and drew together more closely. The Mayor covered his face with his hands for an instant. De Forest, bareheaded, stepped forward between the prisoners and the slowly, stiffly moving line.
Thats all very interesting, he said to the dry-lipped orator. But the point seems that youve been making crowds and invading privacy.
A woman stepped forward, and would have spoken, but there was a quick assenting murmur from the men, who realised that De Forest was trying to pull the situation down to ground-line.
Yes! Yes! they cried. We cut out because they made crowds and invaded privacy! Stick to that! Keep on that switch! Lift the Serviles out of this! The Boards in charge! Hsh!
Yes, the Boards in charge, said De Forest.
Ill take formal evidence of crowd-making if you like, but the Members of the Board can testify to it. Will that do?
The women had closed in another pace, with hands that clenched and unclenched at their sides.
Good! Good enough! the men cried. Were content. Only take them away quickly.
Come along up! said De Forest to the captives. Breakfast is quite ready.
It appeared, however, that they did not wish to go. They intended to remain in Chicago and make crowds. They pointed out that De Forests proposal was gross invasion of privacy.
My dear fellow, said Pirolo to the most voluble of the leaders, you hurry, or your crowd that cant be wrong will kill you !
But that would be murder, answered the believer in crowds; and there was a roar of laughter from all sides that seemed to show the crisis had broken.
A woman stepped forward from the line of women, laughing, I protest, as merrily as any of the company. One hand, of course, shaded her eyes, the other was at her throat.
Oh, they neednt be afraid of being killed! she called.
Not in the least, said De Forest. But dont you think that, now the Boards in charge, you might go home while we get these people away?
I shall be home long before that. Itit has been rather a trying day.
She stood up to her full height, dwarfing even De Forests six-foot-eight, and smiled, with eyes closed against the fierce light.
Yes, rather, said De Forest. Im afraid you feel the glare a little. Well have the ship down.
He motioned to the Pirolo to drop between us and the sun, and at the same time to loop-circuit the prisoners, who were a trifle unsteady. We saw them stiffen to the current where they stood. The womans voice went on, sweet and deep and unshaken:
I dont suppose you men realise how much thisthis sort of thing means to a woman. Ive borne three. We women dont want our children given to Crowds. It must be an inherited instinct. Crowds make trouble. They bring back the Old Days. Hate, fear, blackmail, publicity, The PeopleThat! That! That! She pointed to the Statue, and the crowd growled once more.
Yes, if they are allowed to go on, said De Forest. But this little affair
It means so much to us women that thisthis little affair should never happen again. Of course, nevers a big word, but one feels so strongly that it is important to stop crowds at the very beginning. Those creaturesshe pointed with her left hand at the prisoners swaying like seaweed in a tide way as the circuit pulled themthose people have friends and wives and children in the city and elsewhere. One doesnt want anything done to them, you know. Its terrible to force a human being out of fifty or sixty years of good life. Im only forty myself. I know. But, at the same time, one feels that an example should be made, because no price is too heavy to pay ifif these people and all that they imply can be put an end to. Do you quite understand or would you be kind enough to tell your men to take the casing off the Statue? Its worth looking at.
I understand perfectly. But I dont think anybody here wants to see the Statue on an empty stomach. Excuse me one moment. De Forest called up to the ship, A flying loop ready on the port side, if you please. Then to the woman he said with some crispness, You might leave us a little discretion in the matter.
Oh, of course. Thank you for being so patient. I know my arguments are silly, but She half turned away and went on in a changed voice, Perhaps this will help you to decide.
She threw out her right arm with a knife in it. Before the blade could be returned to her throat or her bosom it was twitched from her grip, sparked as it flew out of the shadow of the ship above, and fell flashing in the sunshine at the foot of the Statue fifty yards away. The outflung arm was arrested, rigid as a bar for an instant, till the releasing circuit permitted her to bring it slowly to her side. The other women shrank back silent among the men.
Pirolo rubbed his hands, and Takahira nodded.
That was clever of you, De Forest, said he.
What a glorious pose! Dragomiroff murmured, for the frightened woman was on the edge of tears.
Why did you stop me? I would have done it! she cried.
I have no doubt you would, said De Forest. But we cant waste a life like yours on these people. I hope the arrest didnt sprain your wrist; its so hard to regulate a flying loop. But I think you are quite right about those persons women and children. Well take them all away with us if you promise not to do anything stupid to yourself.
I promiseI promise. She controlled herself with an effort. But it is so important to us women. We know what it means; and I thought if you saw I was in earnest
I saw you were, and youve gained your point. I shall take all your Serviles away with me at once. The Mayor will make lists of their friends and families in the city and the district, and hell ship them after us this afternoon.
Sure, said the Mayor, rising to his feet. Keefe, if you can see, hadnt you better finish levelling off the Old Market? It dont look sightly the way it is now, and we shant use it for crowds any more.
I think you had better wipe out that Statue as well, Mr. Mayor, said De Forest. I dont question its merits as a work of art, but I believe its a shade morbid.
Certainly, sir. Oh, Keefe! Slag the Nigger before you go on to fuse the Market. Ill get to the Communicators and tell the District tha the Board is in charge. Are you making any special appointments, sir?
None. We havent men to waste on these backwoods. Carry on as before, but under the Board. Arnott, run your Serviles aboard, please. Ground ship and pass them through the bilge-doors. Well wait till weve finished with this work of art.
The prisoners trailed past him, talking fluently, but unable to gesticulate in the drag of the current. Then the surfacers rolled up, two on each side of the Statue. With one accord the spectators looked elsewhere, but there was no need. Keefe turned on full power, and the thing simply melted within its case. All I saw was a surge of white-hot metal pouring over the plinth, a glimpse of Salatis inscription, To the Eternal Memory of the Justice of the People, ere the stone base itself cracked and powdered into finest lime. The crowd cheered.
Thank you, said De Forest; but we want our breakfasts, and I expect you do too. Good-bye, Mr. Mayor! Delighted to see you at any time, but I hope I shant have to, officially, for the next thirty years. Good-bye, madam. Yes. Were all given to nerves nowadays. I suffer from them myself. Good-bye, gentlemen all! Youre under the tyrannous heel of the Board from this moment, but if ever you feel like breaking your fetters youve only to let us know. This is no treat to us. Good luck!
We embarked amid shouts, and did not check our lift till they had dwindled into whispers. Then De Forest flung himself on the chart room divan and mopped his forehead.
I dont mind men, he panted, but women are the devil!
Still the devil, said Pirolo cheerfully. That one would have suicided.
I know it. That was why I signalled for the flying loop to be clapped on her. I owe you an apology for that, Arnott. I hadnt time to catch your eye, and you were busy with our caitiffs. By the way, who actually answered my signal? It was a smart piece of work.
Ilroy, said Arnott; but he overloaded the wave. It may be pretty gallery-work to knock a knife out of a ladys hand, but didnt you notice how she rubbed em? He scorched her fingers. Slovenly, I call it.
Far be it from me to interfere with Fleet discipline, but dont be too hard on the boy. If that woman had killed herself they would have killed every Servile and everything related to a Servile throughout the district by nightfall.
That was what she was playing for, Takahira said. And with our Fleet gone we could have done nothing to hold them.
I may be ass enough to walk into a ground-circuit, said Arnott, but I dont dismiss my Fleet till Im reasonably sure that trouble is over. Theyre in position still, and I intend to keep em there till the Serviles are shipped out of the district. That last little crowd meant murder, my friends.
Nerves! All nerves! said Pirolo. You cannot argue with agoraphobia.
And it is not as if they had seen much deador is it? said Takahira.
In all my ninety years I have never seen death. Dragomiroff spoke as one who would excuse himself. Perhaps that was whylast night
Then it came out as we sat over breakfast, that, with the exception of Arnott and Pirolo, none of us had ever seen a corpse, or knew in what manner the spirit passes.
Were a nice lot to flap about governing the Planet, De Forest laughed. I confess, now its all over, that my main fear was I mightnt be able to pull it off without losing a life.
I thought of that too, sald Arnott; but theres no death reported, and Ive inquired everywhere. What are we supposed to do with our passengers? Ive fed em.
Were between two switches, De Forest drawled. If we drop them in any place that isnt under the Board, the natives will make their presence an excuse for cutting out, same as Illinois did, and forcing the Board to take over. If we drop them in any place under the Boards control theyll be killed as soon as our backs are turned.
If you say so, said Pirolo thoughtfully, I can guarantee that they will become extinct in process of time, quite happily. What is their birth-rate now?
Go down and ask em, said De Forest.
I think they might become nervous and tear me to bits, the philosopher of Foggia replied.
Not really? Well?
Open the bilge-doors, said Takahira with a downward jerk of the thumb.
Scarcelyafter all the trouble weve taken to save em, said De Forest.
Try London, Arnott suggested. You could turn Satan himself loose there, and theyd only ask him to dinner.
Good man! Youve given me an idea. Vincent! Oh, Vincent! He threw the General Communicator open so that we could all hear, and in a few minutes the chartroom filled with the rich, fruity voice of Leopold Vincent, who has purveyed all London her choicest amusements for the last thirty years. We answered with expectant grins, as though we were actually in the stalls of, say, the Combination on a first night.
Weve picked up something in your line, De Forest began.
Thats good, dear man. if its old enough. Theres nothing to beat the old things for business purposes. Have you seen London, Chatham, and Dover at Earls Court? No? I thought I missed you there. Im-mense! Ive had the real steam locomotive engines built from the old designs and the iron rails cast specially by hand. Cloth cushions in the carriages, too! Im-mense! And paper railway tickets. And Polly Milton.
Polly Milton back again! said Arnott rapturously. Book me two stalls for to-morrow night. Whats she singing now, bless her?
The old songs. Nothing comes up to the old touch. Listen to this, dear men. Vincent carolled with flourishes:
Oh, cruel lamps of London, If tears your light could drown, Your victims eyes would weep them, Oh, lights of London Town! Then they weep. |
You see? Pirolo waved his hands at us. The old world always weeped when it saw crowds together. It did not know why, but it weeped. We know why, but we do not weep, except when we pay to be made to by fat, wicked old Vincent.
Old, yourself! Vincent laughed. Im a public benefactor, I keep the world soft and united.
And Im De Forest of the Board, said De Forest acidly, trying to get a little business done. As I was saying, Ive picked up a few people in Chicago.
I cut out. Chicago is
Do listen! Theyre perfectly unique.
Do they build houses of baked mud blocks while you waiteh? Thats an old contact.
Theyre an untouched primitive community, with all the old ideas.
Sewing-machines and maypole-dances? Cooking on coal-gas stoves, lighting pipes with matches, and driving horses? Gerolstein tried that last year. An absolute blow-out!
De Forest plugged him wrathfully, and poured out the story of our doings for the last twenty-four hours on the top-note.
And they do it all in public, he concluded. You cant stop em. The more public, the better they are pleased. Theyll talk for hourslike you! Now you can come in again!
Do you really mean they know how to vote? said Vincent. Can they act it?
Act? Its their life to em! And you never saw such faces! Scarred like volcanoes. Envy, hatred, and malice in plain sight. Wonderfully flexible voices. They weep, too.
Aloud? In public?
I guarantee. Not a spark of shame or reticence in the entire installation. Its the chance of your career.
Dyou say youve brought their voting props alongthose papers and ballotbox things?
No, confound you! Im not a luggage-lifter. Apply direct to the Mayor of Chicago. Hell forward you everything. Well?
Wait a minute. Did Chicago want to kill em? That ud look well on the Communicators.
Yes! They were only rescued with difficulty from a howling mobif you know what that is.
But I dont, answered the Great Vincent simply.
Well then, theyll tell you themselves. They can make speeches hours long.
How many are there?
By the time we ship em all over theyll be perhaps a hundred, counting children. An old world in miniature. Cant you see it?
M-yes; but Ive got to pay for it if its a blow-out, dear man.
They can sing the old war songs in the streets. They can get word-drunk, and make crowds, and invade privacy in the genuine old-fashioned way; and theyll do the voting trick as often as you ask em a question.
Too good! said Vincent.
You unbelieving Jew! Ive got a dozen head aboard here. Ill put you through direct. Sample em yourself.
He lifted the switch and we listened. Our passengers on the lower deck at once, but not less than five at a time, explained themselves to Vincent. They had been taken from the bosom of their families, stripped of their possessions, given food without finger-bowls, and cast into captivity in a noisome dungeon.
But look here, said Arnott aghast; theyre saying what isnt true. My lower deck isnt noisome, and I saw to the finger-bowls myself.
My people talk like that sometimes in Little Russia, said Dragomiroff. We reason with them. We never kill. No!
But its not true, Arnott insisted. What can you do with people who dont tell facts? Theyre mad!
Hsh! said Pirolo, his hand to his ear. It is such a little time since all the Planet told lies.
We heard Vincent silkily sympathetic. Would they, he asked, repeat their assertions in publicbefore a vast public? Only let Vincent give them a chance, and the Planet, they vowed, should ring with their wrongs. Their aim in lifetwo women and a man explained it togetherwas to reform the world. Oddly enough, this also had been Vincents life-dream. He offered them an arena in which to explain, and by their living example to raise the Planet to loftier levels. He was eloquent on the moral uplift of a simple, old-world life presented in its entirety to a deboshed civilisation.
Could theywould theyfor three months certain, devote themselves under his auspices, as missionaries, to the elevation of mankind at a place called Earls Court, which he said, with some truth, was one of the intellectual centres of the Planet? They thanked him, and demanded (we could hear his chuckle of delight) time to discuss and to vote on the matter. The vote, solemnly managed by counting headsone head, one votewas favourable. His offer, therefore, was accepted, and they moved a vote of thanks to him in two speechesone by what they called the proposer and the other by the seconder.
Vincent threw over to us, his voice shaking with gratitude:
Ive got em! Did you hear those speeches? Thats Nature, dear men. Art cant teach that. And they voted as easily as lying. Ive never had a troupe of natural liars before. Bless you, dear men! Remember, youre on my free lists for ever, anywhereall of you. Oh, Gerolstein will be sicksick!
Then you think theyll do? said De Forest.
Do? The Little Villagell go crazy! Ill knock up a series of oldworld plays for em. Their voices will make you laugh and cry. My God, dear men, where do you suppose they picked up all their misery from, on this sweet earth? Ill have a pageant of the worlds beginnings, and Mosenthal shall do the music. Ill
Go and knock up a village for em by to-night. Well meet you at No. 15 West Landing Tower, said De Forest. Remember the rest will be coming along to-morrow.
Let em all come! said Vincent. You dont know how hard it is nowadays even for me, to find something that really gets under the publics damned iridium-plated hide. But Ive got it at last. Good-bye!
Well, said De Forest when we had finished laughing, if any one understood corruption in London I might have played off Vincent against Gerolstein, and sold my captives at enormous prices. As it is, I shall have to be their legal adviser to-night when the contracts are signed. And they wont exactly press any commission on me, either.
Meantime, said Takahira, we cannot, of course, confine members of Leopold Vincents last-engaged company. Chairs for the ladies, please, Arnott.
Then I go to bed, said De Forest. I cant face any more women! And he vanished.
When our passengers were released and given another meal (finger-bowls came first this time) they told us what they thought of us and the Board; and, like Vincent, we all marvelled how they had contrived to extract and secrete so much bitter poison and unrest out of the good life God gives us. They raged, they stormed, they palpitated, flushed and exhausted their poor, torn nerves, panted themselves into silence, and renewed the senseless, shameless attacks.
But cant you understand, said Pirolo pathetically to a shrieking woman, that if wed left you in Chicago youd have been killed?
No, we shouldnt. You were bound to save us from being murdered.
Then we should have had to kill a lot of other people.
That doesnt matter. We were preaching the Truth. You cant stop us. We shall go on preaching in London; and then youll see!
You can see now, said Pirolo, and opened a lower shutter.
We were closing on the Little Village, with her three Million people spread out at ease inside her ring of girdling Main-Traffic lightsthose eight fixed beams at Chatham, Tonbridge, Redhill, Dorking, Woking, St. Albans, Chipping Ongar, and Southend.
Leopold Vincents new company looked, with small pale faces, at the silence, the size, and the separated houses.
Then some began to weep aloud, shamelesslyalways without shame.
Two men in sackcloth aprons were considering an untrimmed hedge that ran down the hillside and disappeared into mist beside those roarings. They stood back and took stock of the neglected growth, tapped an elbow of hedge-oak here, a mossed beech-stub there, swayed a stooled ash back and forth, and looked at each other.
I reckon shes about two rod thick, said Jabez the younger, an she hasnt felt iron sincewhen has she, Jesse?
Call it twenty-five year, Jabez, an you wont be far out.
Umm! Jabez rubbed his wet handbill on his wetter coat-sleeve. She aint a hedge. Shes all manner o trees. Well just about have to He paused, as professional etiquette required.
Just about have to side her up an see what shell bear. But hadnt we best? Jesse paused in his turn; both men being artists and equals.
Get some kind o line to go by. Jabez ranged up and down till he found a thinner place, and with clean snicks of the handbill revealed the original face of the fence. Jesse took over the dripping stuff as it fell forward, and, with a grasp and a kick, made it to lie orderly on the bank till it should be faggoted.
By noon a length of unclean jungle had turned itself into a cattle-proof barrier, tufted here and there with little plumes of the sacred holly which no woodman touches without orders.
Now weve a witness-board to go by! said Jesse at last.
She wont be as easy as this all along, Jabez answered. Shell need plenty stakes and binders when we come to the brook.
Well, aint we plenty? Jesse pointed to the ragged perspective ahead of them that plunged downhill into the fog. I lay theres a cord an a half o firewood, let alone faggots, fore we get anywheres anigh the brook.
The brooks got up a piece since morning, said Jabez. Sounds likes if she was over Wickendens door-stones.
Jesse listened, too. There was a growl in the brooks roar as though she worried something hard.
Yes. Shes over Wickendens door-stones, he replied. Now shell flood acrost Alder Bay an thatll ease her.
She wont ease Jim Wickendens hay none if she do, Jabez grunted. I told Jim hed set that liddle hay-stack o his too low down in the medder. I told him so when he was drawin the bottom for it.
I told him so, too, said Jesse. I told him fore ever you did. I told him when the County Council tarred the roads up along. He pointed up-hill, where unseen automobiles and road-engines droned past continually. A tarred road, she shoots every drop o water into a valley sames a slate roof. Tisnt as twas in the old days, when the waters soaked in and soaked out in the way o nature. It rooshes off they tarred roads all of a lump, and naturally every drop is bound to descend into the valley. And theres tar roads both two sides this valley for ten mile. Thats what I told Jim Wickenden when they tarred the roads last year. But hes a valley-man. He dont hardly ever journey up-hill.
What did he say when you told him that? Jabez demanded, with a little change of voice.
Why? What did he say to you when you told him? was the answer.
What he said to you, I reckon, Jesse.
Then, you dont need me to say it over again, Jabez.,
Well, let be how twill, what was he gettin after when he said what he said to me? Jabez insisted.
I dunno; unless you tell me what manner o words he said to you.
Jabez drew back from the hedgeall hedges are nests of treachery and eavesdroppingand moved to an open cattle-lodge in the centre of the field.
No need to go ferretin around, said Jesse. None cant see us here fore we see them.
What was Jim Wickenden gettin at when I said hed set his stack too near anigh the brook? Jabez dropped his voice. He was in his mind.
He aint never been out of it yet to my knowledge, Jesse drawled, and uncorked his tea-bottle.
But then Jim says: I aint goin to shift my stack a yard, he says. The Brooks been good friends to me, and if she be minded, he says, to take a snatch at my hay, I aint settin out to withstand her. Thats what Jim Wickenden says to me lastlast June-end twas, said Jabez.
Nor he hasnt shifted his stack, neither, Jesse replied. An if theres more rain, the brook shell shift it for him.
No need tell me! But I want to know what Jim was gettin at?
Jabez opened his clasp-knife very deliberately; Jesse as carefully opened his. They unfolded the newspapers that wrapped their dinners, coiled away and pocketed the string that bound the packages, and sat down on the edge of the lodge manger. The rain began to fall again through the fog, and the brooks voice rose.
Taint so. . . . Jim Wickendens woman she never made nothing. She come out o Lewes with her stockins round her heels, an she never made nor mended aught till she died. He had to light fire an get breakfast every mornin except Sundays, while she sowed it abed. Then she took an died, sixteen, seventeen, year back; but she never had no childern.
They was valley-folk, said Jabez apologetically. Id no call to go in among em, but I always allowed Mary
No. Mary come out o one o those Lunnon Childern Societies. After his woman died, Jim got his mother back from his sister over to Peasmarsh, which shed gone to house with when Jim married. His mother kept house for Jim after his woman died. They do say twas his mother led him on toward adoptin of Maryto furnish out the house with a child, like, and to keep him off of gettin a noo woman. He mostly done what his mother contrived. Cardenly, twixt em, they asked for a child from one o those Lunnon societiessame as it might ha been these Barnardo childrenan Mary was sent down to em, in a candle-box, Ive heard.
Then Mary is chance-born. I never knowed that, said Jabez. Yet I must ha heard it some time or other . . .
No. She aint. Twould ha been better for some folk if she had been. She come to Jim in a candle-box with all the proper paperslawful child o some couple in Lunnon somewheresmother dead, father drinkin. And there was that Lunnon societys five shillins a week for her. Jims mother she wouldnt despise week-end money, but I never heard Jim was much of a muck-grubber. Let be how twill, they two mothered up Mary no bounds, till it looked at last like theyd forgot she wasnt their own flesh an blood. Yes, I reckon they forgot Mary wasnt theirn by rights.
Thats no new thing, said Jabez. Theres moren one or two in this parish wouldnt surrender back their Bernarders. You ask Mark Copley an his woman an that Bernarder cripple-babe o theirs.
Maybe they need the five shillin, Jesse suggested.
Its handy, said Jabez. But the childs more. Dada he says, an Mumma he says, with his great rollin head-piece all hurdled up in that iron collar. He wont live longhis backbones rotten, like. But they Copleys do just about set store by himfive bob or no five bob.
Same way with Jim an his mother, Jesse went on. There was talk betwixt em after a few years o not takin any more week-end money for Mary; but let alone she never passed a farden in the mire thout longins, Jim didnt care, like, to push himself forward into the Societys remembrance. So naun came of it. The week-end money would ha made no odds to Jimnot after his uncle willed him they four cottages at Eastbourne an money in the bank.
That was true, too, then? I heard something in a scadderin word-o-mouth way, said Jabez.
Ill answer for the house property, because Jim he reequested my signed name at the foot o some papers concernin it. Regardin the money in the bank, he nature-ally wouldnt like such things talked about all round the parish, so he took strangers for witnesses.
Then twill make Mary worth seekin after?
Shell need it. Her Maker aint done much for her outside nor yet in.
That aint no odds. Jabez shook his head till the water showered off his hat-brim. If Mary has money, shell be wed before any likely pore maid. Shes cause to be grateful to Jim.
She hides it middlin close, then, said Jesse. It dont sometimes look to me as if Mary has her natural rightful feelins. She dont put on an apron o Mondays thout being druv to itin the kitchen or the hen-house. Shes studyin to be a school-teacher. Shell make a beauty! I never knowed her show any sort o kindness to nobodynot even when Jims mother was took dumb. No! Twadnt no stroke. It stifled the old lady in the throat here. First she couldnt shape her words no shape; then she clucked, like, an lastly she couldnt more than suck down spoon-meat an hold her peace. Jim took her to Doctor Harding, an Harding he bundled her off to Brighton Hospital on a ticket, but they couldnt make no stay to her afflictions there; and she was bundled off to Lunnon, an they lit a great old lamp inside her, and Jim told me they couldnt make out nothing in no sort there; and, along o one thing an another, an all their spyins and pryins, she come back a hem sight worse than when she started. Jim said hed have no more hospitalizin, so he give her a slate, which she tied to her waist-string, and what she was minded to say she writ on it.
Now, I never knowed that! But theyre valleyfolk; Jabez repeated.
Twadnt particular noticeable, for she wasnt a talkin woman any time o her days. Mary had all threes tongue . . . . Well, then, two years this summer, come what Im tellin you. Marys Lunnon father, which theyd put clean out o their minds, arrived down from Lunnon with the law on his side, sayin hed take his daughter back to Lunnon, after all. I was working for Mus Dockett at Pounds Farm that summer, but I was obligin Jim that evenin muckin out his pig-pen. I seed a stranger come traipsin over the bridge agin Wickendens door-stones. Twadnt the new County Council bridge with the handrail. They hadnt given it in for a public right o way then. Twas just a bit o lathy old plank which Jim had throwed acrost the brook for his own conveniences. The man wasnt drunkonly a little concerned in liquor, likean his back was a mask where hed slipped in the muck comin along. He went up the bricks past Jims mother, which was feedin the ducks, an set himself down at the table insideJim was just changin his socksan the man let Jim know all his rights and aims regardin Mary. Then there just about was a hurly-bulloo? Jims fust mind was to pitch him forth, but hed done that once in his young days, and got six months up to Lewes jail along o the man fallin on his head. So he swallowed his spittle an let him talk. The law about Mary was on the mans side from fust to last, for he showed us all the papers. Then Mary come downstairsshed been studyin for an examinationan the man tells her who he was, an she says he had ought to have took proper care of his own flesh and blood while he had it by him, an not to think he could ree-claim it when it suited. He says somethin or other, but she looks him up an down, front an backwent, an she just tongues him scadderin out o doors, and he went away stuffin all the papers back into his hat, talkin most abusefully. Then she come back an freed her mind against Jim an his mother for not havin warned her of her upbringins, which it come out she hadnt ever been told. They didnt say naun to her. They never did. Id ha packed her off with any man that would ha took heran Gods pity on him!
Umm! said Jabez, and sucked his pipe.
So then, that was the beginnin. The man come back again next week or so, an he catched Jim alone, thout his mother this time, an he fair beazled him with his papers an his talkfor the law was on his sidetill Jim went down into his money-purse an give him ten shillings hush-moneyhe told meto withdraw away for a bit an leave Mary with em.
But thats no way to get rid o man or woman, Jabez said.
No more tis. I told Jim so. What can I do? Jim says.The laws with the man. I walk about daytimes thinkin o it till I sweats my underclothes wringin, an I lie abed nights thinkin o it till I sweats my sheets all of a sop. Tisnt as if I was a young man, he says, nor yet as if I was a pore man. Maybe hell drink hisself to death. I een amost told him outright what foolishness he was enterin into, but he knowed ithe knowed itbecause he said next time the man come twould be fifteen shillins. An next time twas. Just fifteen shillins!
An was the man her father? asked Jabez.
He had the proofs an the papers. Jim showed me what that Lunnon Childerns Society had answered when Mary writ up to em an taxed em with it. I lay she hadnt been proper polite in her letters to em, for they answered middlin short. They said the matter was out o their hands, butlets see if I rememberoh, yes,they ree-gretted there had been an oversight. I reckon they had sent Mary out in the candle-box as a orphan instead o havin a father. Terrible awkward! Then, when hed drinked up the money, the man come againin his usualsan he kept hammerin on and hammerin on about his duty to his pore dear wife, an what hed do for his dear daughter in Lunnon, till the tears runnel down his two dirty cheeks an he come away with more money. Jim used to slip it into his hand behind the door; but his mother she heard the chink. She didnt hold with hush-money. Shed write out all her feelins on the slate, an Jim ud be settin up half the night answerin back an showing that the man had the law with him.
Hadnt that man no trade nor business, then?
He told me he was a printer. I reckon, though, he lived on the rates like the rest of ern up there in Lunnon.
An how did Mary take it?
She said shed sooner go into service than go with the man. I reckon a mistress ud be middlin put to it for a maid fore she put Mary into cap an gown. She was studyin to be a schoo-ool-teacher. A beauty shell make! . . . Well, that was how things went that fall. Marys Lunnon father kep comin an comin carden as hed drinked out the money Jim gave him; an each time hed put up his price for not takin Mary away. Jims mother, she didnt like partin with no money, an bein obliged to write her feelins on the slate instead o givin em vent by mouth, she was just about mad. Just about she was mad!
Come November, I lodged with Jim in the outside room over gainst his hen-house. I paid her my rent. I was workin for Dockett at Poundsgettin chestnut-bats out o Perry Shaw. Just such weather as this be-rain atop o rain after a wet October. (An I remember it ended in dry frostes right away up to Christmas.) Dockett hed sent up to Perry Shaw for meno, he comes puffin up to me himselfbecause a big cornerpiece o the bank had slipped into the brook where she makes that elber at the bottom o the Seventeen Acre, an all the rubbishy alders an sallies which he ought to have cut out when he took the farm, theyd slipped with the slip, an the brook was comin rooshin down atop of em, an theyd just about back an spill the waters over his winter wheat. The water was lyin in the flats already. Gor a-mighty, Jesse! he bellers out at me, get that rubbish away all manners you can. Dont stop for no fagottin, but give the brook play or my wheats past salvation. I cant lend you no help, he says, but work an Ill pay ye.
You had him there, Jabez chuckled.
Yes. I reckon I had ought to have drove my bargain, but the brook was backin up on good bread-corn. So cardenly, I laid into the mess of it, workin off the bank where the trees was drownin themselves head-down in the rooshjust such weather as thisan the brook creepin up on me all the time. Long toward noon, Jim comes mowchin along with his toppin axe over his shoulder.
Be you minded for an extra hand at your job? he says.
Be you minded to turn to? I ses, anno more talk to itJim laid in alongside o me. Hes no bunger with a toppin axe.
Maybe, but Ive seed him at a job o throwin in the woods, an he didnt seem to make out no shape, said Jabez. He havent got the shoulders, nor yet the judgmentmy opinionwhen hes dealin with full-girt timber. He dont rightly make up his mind where hes goin to throw her.
We wasnt throwin nothin. We was cuttin out they soft alders, an haulin em up the bank fore they could back the waters on the wheat. Jim didnt say much, less it was that hed had a post-card from Marys Lunnon father, night before, sayin he was comin down that mornin. Jim, hed sweated all night, an he didnt reckon hisself equal to the talkin an the swearin an the cryin, an his mother blamin him afterwards on the slate. It spiled my day to think of it, he ses, when we was eatin our pieces. So Ive fair cried dunghill an run. Motherll have to tackle him by herself. I lay she wont give him no hush-money, he ses. I lay hell be surprised by the time hes done with her, he ses. An that was een amost all the talk we had concernin it. But hes no bunger with the toppin axe.
The brook shed crep up an up on us, an she kep creepin upon us till we was workin knee-deep in the shallers, cuttin an pookin an pullin what we could get to o the rubbish. There was a middlin lot comin down-stream, toocattle-bars an hop-poles and odds-ends bats, all poltin down together; but they rooshed round the elber good shape by the time wed backed out they drowned trees. Come four oclock we reckoned wed done a proper days work, an shed take no harm if we left her. We couldnt puddle about there in the dark an wet to no more advantage. Jim he was pourin the water out of his bootsno, I was doin that. Jim was kneelin to unlace hisn. Damn it all, Jesse, he ses, standin up; the flood must be over my doorsteps at home, for here comes my old white-top bee-skep!
Yes. I allus heard he paints his bee-skeps, Jabez put in. I dunno paint dont tarrify bees moren it keeps em dry.
Ill have a pook at it, he ses, an he pooks at it as it comes round the elber. The roosh nigh jerked the pooker out of his hand-grips, an he calls to me, an I come runnin barefoot. Then we pulled on the pooker, an it reared up on eend in the roosh, an we guessed what twas. Cardenly we pulled it in into a shaller, an it rolled a piece, an a great old stiff mans arm nigh hit me in the face. Then we was sure. Tis a man, ses Jim. But the face was all a mask. I reckon its Marys Lunnon father, he ses presently. Lend me a match and Ill make sure. He never used baccy. We lit three matches one by another, wells we could in the rain, an he cleaned off some o the slob with a tussick o grass. Yes, he ses. Its Marys Lunnon father. He wont tarrify us no more. Dyou want him, Jesse? he ses.
No, I ses. If this was Eastbourne beach like, hed be half-a-crown apiece to us fore the coroner; but now wed only lose a day havin to tend the inquest. I lay he fell into the brook.
I lay he did, ses Jim. I wonder if he saw mother. He turns him over, an opens his coat and puts his fingers in the waistcoat pocket an starts laugbin. Hes seen mother, right enough, he ses. An hes got the best of her, too. She wont be able to crow no more over me bout givin him money. I never give him more than a sovereign. Shes give him two! an he trousers em, laughin all the time. An now well pook him back again, for Ive done with him, he ses.
So we pooked him back into the middle of the brook, an we saw he went round the elber thout balkin, an we walked quite a piece beside of him to set him on his ways. When we couldnt see no more, we went home by the high road, because we knowed the brook ud be out acrost the medders, an we wasnt goin to hunt for Jims little rotten old bridge in that darkan rainin Heavens hard, too. I was middlin pleased to see light an vittles again when we got home. Jim he pressed me to come insides for a drink. He dont drink in a generality, but he was rid of all his troubles that evenin, dye see? Mother, he ses so soon as the door oped, have you seen him? She whips out her slate an writes downNo. Oh, no, ses Jim. You dont get out of it that way, mother. I lay you have seen him, an I lay hes bested you for all your talk, same as he bested me. Make a clean breast of it, mother, he ses. He got round you too. She was goin for the slate again, but he stops her. Its all right, mother, he ses. Ive seen him sense you have, an he wont trouble us no more. The old lady looks up quick as a robin, an she writes, Did he say so? No, ses Jim, laughin. He didnt say so. Thats how I know. But he bested you, mother. You cant have it in at me for bein soft-hearted. Youre twice as tender-hearted as what I be. Look! he ses, an he shows her the two sovereigns. Put em away where they belong, he ses. He wont never come for no more; an now well have our drink, he ses, for weve earned it.
Nature-ally they werent goin to let me see where they kep their monies. She went upstairs with itfor the whisky.
I never knowed Jim was a drinkin manin his own house, like, said Jabez.
No more he isnt; but what he takes he likes good. He wont tech no publicans hogwash acrost the bar. Four shillins he paid for that bottle o whisky. I know, because when the old lady brought it down there wasnt moren jest a liddle few dreenins an dregs in it. Nothin to set before neighbours, I do assure you.
Why, twas half full last week, mother, he ses. You dont mean, he ses, youve given him all that as well? Its two shillins worth, he ses. (Thats how I knowed he paid four.) Well, well, mother, you be too tender-earted to live. But I dont grudge it to him, he ses. I dont grudge him nothin he can keep. So, cardenly, we drinked up what little sup was left.
An what come to Marys Lunnon father? said Jabez, after a full minutes silence.
I be too tired to go readin papers of evenins; but Dockett he told me, that very week, I think, that theyd inquested on a man down at Roberts-bridge which had polted and polted up agin so many bridges an banks, like, they couldnt make naun out of him.
An what did Mary say to all these doins?
The old lady bundled her off to the village fore her Lunnon father come, to buy week-end stuff (an she forgot the half o it). When we come in she was upstairs studyin to be a schoolteacher. None told her naun about it. Twadnt girls affairs.
Reckon she knowed? Jabez went on.
She? She must have guessed it middlin close when she saw her money come back. But she never mentioned it in writing so fars I know. She were more worritted that night on account of two-three her chickens bein drowned, for the flood had skewed their old hen-house round on her postes. I cobbled her up next mornin when the brook shrinked.
An where did you find the bridge? Some fur down-stream, didnt ye?
Just where she allus was. She hadnt shifted but very little. The brook had gulled out the bank a piece under one eend o the plank, sos she was liable to tilt ye sideways if you wasnt careful. But I pocked three-four bricks under her, an she was all plumb again.
Well, I dunno how it looks like, but let be how twill, said Jabez, he hadnt no business to come down from Lunnon tarrifyin people, an threatenin to take away children which theyd hobbed up for their lawful owneven if twas Mary Wickenden.
He had the business right enough, an he had the law with himno gettin over that, said Jesse.
But he had the drink with him, too, an that was where he failed, like.
Well, well! Let be how twill, the brook was a good friend to Jim. I see it now. I allus did wonder what he was gettin at when he said that, when I talked to him about shiftin the stack. You dunno everythin, he ses. The Brooks been a good friend to me, he ses, an if shes minded to have a snatch at my hay, I aint settin out to withstand her.
I reckon shes about shifted it, too, by now, Jesse chuckled. Hark! That aint any slip off the bank which shes got hold of.
The Brook had changed her note again. It sounded as though she were mumbling something soft.
WHEN Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdeniusa Briton of the Clay, Saying: What about that River-piece for layin in to hay?
And the aged Hobden answered: I remember as a lad
So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style
Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do,
Well could Ogier work his war-boatwell could Ogier wield his brand
And that aged Hobden answered: Taint for me to interfere,
Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours solemn walk,
Ogier died. His sons grew EnglishAnglo-Saxon was their name
But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy autumn night
And that aged Hobden answered: Taint my business to advise,
They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willowtrees . . . . .Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs All sorts of powers and profits whichare neither mine nor theirs.
I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires.
Shall I dog his morning progress oer the track-betraying dew?
His dead are in the churchyardthirty generations laid.
Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies,
Hob, what about that River-bit? I turn to him again, |
A THROBBING vein, said Dr. Gilbert soothingly, is the mother of delusion.
Then how do you account for my knowing when the thing is due? Conroys voice rose almost to a break.
Of course, but you should have consulted a doctor before usingpalliatives.
It was driving me mad. And now I cant give them up.
Not so bad as that! One doesnt form fatal habits at twenty-five. Think again. Were you ever frightened as a child?
I dont remember. It began when I was a boy.
With or without the spasm? By the way, do you mind describing the spasm again?
Well, said Conroy, twisting in the chair, Im no musician, but suppose you were a violin-stringvibratingand some one put his finger on you? As if a finger were put on the naked soul! Awful!
Sos indigestionsos nightmarewhile it lasts.
But the horror afterwards knocks me out for days. And the waiting for it . . . and then this drug habit! It cant go on! He shook as he spoke, and the chair creaked.
My dear fellow, said the doctor, when youre older youll know what burdens the best of us carry. A fox to every Spartan.
That doesnt help me. I cant! I cant! cried Conroy, and burst into tears.
Dont apologise, said Gilbert, when the paroxysm ended. Im used to people coming a littleunstuck in this room.
Its those tabloids! Conroy stamped his foot feebly as he blew his nose. Theyve knocked me out. I used to be fit once. Oh, Ive tried exercise and everything. Butif one sits down for a minute when its dueeven at four in the morning-it runs up behind one.
Ye-es. Many things come in the quiet of the morning. You always know when the visitation. is due?
What would I give not to be sure! he sobbed.
Well put that aside for the moment. Im thinking of a case where what well call anæmia of the brain was masked (I dont say cured) by vibration. He couldnt sleep, or thought he couldnt, but a steamer voyage and the thump of the screw
A steamer? After what Ive told you! Conroy almost shrieked. Id sooner . . .
Of course not a steamer in your case, but a long railway journey the next time you think it will trouble you. It sounds absurd, but
Id try anything. I nearly have, Conroy sighed.
Nonsense! Ive given you a tonic that will clear that notion from your head. Give the train a chance, and dont begin the journey by bucking yourself up with tabloids. Take them along, but hold them in reservein reserve.
Dyou think Ive self-control enough, after what youve heard? said Conroy.
Dr. Gilbert smiled. Yes. After what Ive seen, he glanced round the room, I have no hesitation in saying you have quite as much self-control as many other people. Ill write you later about your journey. Meantime, the tonic, and he gave some general directions before Conroy left.
An hour later Dr. Gilbert hurried to the links, where the others of his regular week-end game awaited him. It was a rigid round, played as usual at the trot, for the tension of the week lay as heavy on the two Kings Counsels and Sir John Chartres as on Gilbert. The lawyers were old enemies of the Admiralty Court, and Sir John of the frosty eyebrows and Abernethy manner was bracketed with, but before, Rutherford Gilbert among nerve-specialists.
At the Club-house afterwards the lawyers renewed their squabble over a tangled collision case, and the doctors as naturally compared professional matters.
Liesall lies, said Sir John, when Gilbert had told him Conroys trouble. Post hoc, propter hoc. The man or woman who drugs is ipso facto a liar. Youve no imagination.
Pity you havent a littleoccasionally.
I have believed a certain type of patient in my time. Its always the same. For reasons not given in the consulting-room they take to the drug. Certain symptoms follow. They will swear to you, and believe it, that they took the drug to mask the symptoms. What does your man use? Najdolene? I thought so. I had practically the duplicate of your case last Thursday. Same old Najdolenesame old lie.
Tell me the symptoms, and Ill draw my own inferences, Johnnie.
Symptoms! The girl was rank poisoned with Najdolene. Ramping, stamping possession. Gad, I thought shed have the chandelier down.
Mine came unstuck too, and he has the physique of a bull, said Gilbert. What delusions had yours?
I Facesfaces with mildew on them. In any other walk of life wed call it the Horrors. She told me, of course, she took the drugs to mask the faces. Post hoc, propter hoc again. All liars!
Whats that? said the senior K.C. quickly. Sounds professional.
Go away! Not for you, Sandy. Sir John turned a shoulder against him and walked with Gilbert in the chill evening.
To Conroy in his chambers came, one week later, this letter:
DEAR MR. CONROYIf your plan of a nights trip on the 17th still holds good, and you have no particular destination in view, you could do me a kindness. A Miss Henschil, in whom I am interested, goes down to the West by the 10.8 from Waterloo (Number 3 platform) on that night. She is not exactly an invalid, but, like so many of us, a little shaken in her nerves. Her maid, of course, accompanies her, but if I knew you were in the same train it would be an additional source of strength. Will you please write and let me know whether the 10.8 from Waterloo, Number 3 platform, on the 17th, suits you, and I will meet you there? Dont forget my caution, and keep up the tonic.Yours sincerely, L. RUTHERFORD GILBERT.
|
He knows Im scarcely fit to look after myself, was Conroys thought. And he wants me to look after a woman!
Yet, at the end of half an hours irresolution, he accepted.
Now Conroys trouble, which had lasted for years, was this:
On a certain night, while he lay between sleep and wake, he would be overtaken by a long shuddering sigh, which he learned to know was the sign that his brain had once more conceived its horror, and in timein due timewould bring it forth.
Drugs could so well veil that horror that it shuffled along no worse than as a freezing dream in a procession of disorderly dreams; but over the return of the event drugs had no control. Once that sigh had passed his lips the thing was inevitable, and through the days granted before its rebirth he walked in torment. For the first two years he had striven to fend it off by distractions, but neither exercise nor drink availed. Then he had come to the tabloids of the excellent M. Najdol. These guarantee, on the label, Refreshing and absolutely natural sleep to the soul-weary. They are carried in a case with a spring which presses one scented tabloid to the end of the tube, whence it can be lipped off in stroking the moustache or adjusting the veil.
Three years of M. Najdols preparations do not fit a man for many careers. His friends, who knew he did not drink, assumed that Conroy had strained his heart through valiant outdoor exercises, and Conroy had with some care invented an imaginary doctor, symptoms, and regimen, which he discussed with them and with his mother in Hereford. She maintained that he would grow out of it, and recommended nux vomica.
When at last Conroy faced a real doctor, it was, he hoped, to be saved from suicide by a strait-waistcoat. Yet Dr. Gilbert had but given him more drugsa tonic, for instance, that would couple railway carriagesand had advised a night in the train. Not alone the horrors of a railway journey (for which a man who dare keep no servant must een pack, label, and address his own bag), but the necessity for holding himself in hand before a stranger a little shaken in her nerves.
He spent a long forenoon packing, because when he assembled and counted things his mind slid off to the hours that remained of the day before his night, and he found himself counting minutes aloud. At such times the injustice of his fate would drive him to revolts which no servant should witness, but on this evening Dr. Gilberts tonic held him fairly calm while he put up his patent razors.
Waterloo Station shook him into real life. The change for his ticket needed concentration, if only to prevent shillings and pence turning into minutes at the booking-office; and he spoke quickly to a porter about the disposition of his bag. The old 10.8 from Waterloo to the West was an all-night caravan that halted, in the interests of the milk traffic, at almost every station.
Dr. Gilbert stood by the door of the one composite corridor coach; an older and stouter man behind him. So glad youre here! he cried. Let me get your ticket.
Certainly not, Conroy answered. I got it myselflong ago. My bags in too, he added proudly.
I beg your pardon. Miss Henschils here. Ill introduce you.
Butbut, he stammeredthink of the state Im in. If anything happens I shall collapse.
Not you. Youd rise to the occasion like a bird. And as for the self-control you were talking of the other dayGilbert swung him roundlook!
A young man in an ulster over a silk-faced frock-coat stood by the carriage window, weeping shamelessly.
Oh, but thats only drink, Conroy said. I havent had one of mymy things since lunch.
Excellent! said Gilbert. I knew I could depend on you. Come along. Wait for a minute, Chartres.
A tall woman, veiled, sat by the far window. She bowed her head as the doctor murmured Conroy knew not what. Then he disappeared and the inspector came for tickets.
My maidnext compartment, she said slowly.
Conroy showed his ticket, but in returning it to the sleeve-pocket of his ulster the little silver Najdolene case slipped from his glove and fell to the floor. He snatched it up as the moving train flung him into his seat.
How nice! said the woman. She leisurely lifted her veil, unbuttoned the first button of her left glove, and pressed out from its palm a Najdolene-case.
Dont! said Conroy, not realising he had spoken.
I beg your pardon. The deep voice was measured, even, and low. Conroy knew what made it so.
I said dont! He wouldnt like you to do it!
No, he would not. She held the tube with its ever-presented tabloid between finger and thumb. But arent you one of theahsoulweary too?
Thats why. Oh, please dont! Not at first. II havent had one since morning. Youyoull set me off!
You? Are you so far gone as that?
He nodded, pressing his palms together. The train jolted through Vauxhall points, and was welcomed with the clang of empty milk-cans for the West.
After long silence she lifted her great eyes, and, with an innocence that would have deceived any sound man, asked Conroy to call her maid to bring her a forgotten book.
Conroy shook his head. No. Our sort cant read. Dont!
Were you sent to watch me? The voice never changed.
Me? I need a keeper myself much morethis night of all!
This night? Have you a night, then? They disbelieved me when I told them of mine. She leaned back and laughed, always slowly. Arent doctors stu-upid? They dont know.
She leaned her elbow on her knee, lifted her veil that had fallen, and, chin in hand, stared at him. He looked at hertill his eyes were blurred with tears.
Have I been there, think you? she said.
Surelysurely, Conroy answered, for he had well seen the fear and the horror that lived behind the heavy-lidded eyes, the fine tracing on the broad forehead, and the guard set about the desirable mouth.
Thensuppose we have onejust one apiece? Ive gone without since this afternoon.
He put up his hand, and would have shouted, but his voice broke.
Dont! Cant you see that it helps me to help you to keep it off? Dont lets both go down together.
But I want one. Its a poor heart that never rejoices. Just one. Its my night.
Its minetoo. My sixty-fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh. He shut his lips firmly against the tide of visualised numbers that threatened to carry him along.
Ah, its only my thirty-ninth. She paused as he had done. I wonder if I shall last into the sixties . . . . Talk to me or I shall go crazy. Youre a man. Youre the stronger vessel. Tell me when you went to pieces.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seveneightI beg your pardon.
Not in the least. I always pretend Ive dropped a stitch of my knitting. I count the days till the last day, then the hours, then the minutes. Do you?
I dont think Ive done very much else for the last said Conroy, shivering, for the night was cold, with a chill he recognised.
Oh, how comforting to find some one who can talk sense! Its not always the same date, is it?
What difference would that make? He unbuttoned his ulster with a jerk. Youre a sane woman. Cant you see the wickedwickedwicked (dust flew from the padded arm-rest as he struck it) unfairness of it? What have I done?
She laid her large hand on his shoulder very firmly.
If you begin to think over that, she said, youll go to pieces and be ashamed. Tell me yours, and Ill tell you mine. Only be quietbe quiet, lad, or youll set me off! She made shift to soothe him, though her chin trembled.
Well, said he at last, picking at the arm-rest between them, mines nothing much, of course.
Dont be a fool! Thats for doctorsand mothers.
Its Hell, Conroy muttered. It begins on a steameron a stifling hot night. I come out of my cabin. I pass through the saloon where the stewards have rolled up the carpets, and the boards are bare and hot and soapy.
Ive travelled too, she said.
Ah! I come on deck. I walk down a covered alleyway. Butchers meat, bananas, oil, that sort of smell.
Again she nodded.
Its a lead-coloured steamer, and the seas lead-coloured. Perfectly smooth seaperfectly still ship, except for the engines running, and her waves going off in lines and lines and linesdull grey. All this time I know somethings going to happen.
I know. Something going to happen, she whispered.
Then I hear a thud in the engine-room. Then the noise of machinery falling downlike fire-ironsand then two most awful yells. Theyre more like hoots, and I knowI know while I listenthat it means that two men have died as they hooted. It was their last breath hooting out of themin most awful pain. Do you understand?
I ought to. Go on.
Thats the first part. Then I hear bare feet running along the alleyway. One of the scalded men comes up behind me and says quite distinctly, My friend! All is lost! Then he taps me on the shoulder and I hear him drop down dead. He panted and wiped his forehead.
So that is your night? she said.
That is my night. It comes every few weeksso many days after I get what I call sentence. Then I begin to count.
Get sentence? Dycu mean this? She half closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, and shuddered. Notice I call it. Sir John thought it was all lies.
She had unpinned her hat and thrown it on the seat opposite, showing the immense tnass of her black hair, rolled low in the nape of the columnar neck and looped over the left ear. But Conroy had no eyes except for her grave eyes.
Listen now! said she. I walk down a road, a white sandy road near the sea. There are broken fences on either side, and Men come and look at me over them.
Just men? Do they speak?
They try to. Their faces are all mildewyeaten away, and she hid her face for an instant with her left hand. Its the Facesthe Faces!
Yes. Like my two hoots. I know.
Ah! But the place itselfthe barenessand the glitter and the salt smells, and the wind blowing the sand! The Men run after me and I run . . . . I know whats coming too. One of them touches me.
Yes! What comes then? Weve both shirked that.
One awful shocknot palpitation, but shock, shock, shock!
As though your soul were being stoppedas youd stop a finger-bowl humming? he said.
Just that, she answered. Ones very soulthe soul that one lives bystopped. So!
She drove her thumb deep into the arm-rest. And now, she whined to him, now that weve stirred each other up this way, mightnt we have just one?
No, said Conroy, shaking. Lets hold on. Were pasthe peered out of the black windowsWoking. Theres the Necropolis. How long till dawn?
Oh, cruel long yet. If one dozes for a minute, it catches one.
And how dyou find that thishe tapped the palm of his glovehelps you?
It covers up the thing from being too realif one takes enoughyou know. Onlyonlyone loses everything else. Ive been no more than a bogie-girl for two years. What would you give to be real again? This lyings such a nuisance.
One must protect oneselfand theres ones mother to think of, he answered.
True. I hope allowances are made for us somewhere. Our burdencan you hear?our burden is heavy enough.
She rose, towering into the roof of the carriage. Conroys ungentle grip pulled her back.
Now you are foolish. Sit down, said he.
But the cruelty of it! Cant you see it? Dont you feel it? Lets take one nowbefore I
Sit down! cried Conroy, and the sweat stood again on his forehead. He had fought through a few nights, and had been defeated on more, and he knew the rebellion that flares beyond control to exhaustion.
She smoothed her hair and dropped back, but for a while her head and throat moved with the sickening motion of a captured wry-neck.
Once, she said, spreading out her hands, I ripped my counterpane from end to end. That takes strength. I had it then. Ive little now. All dorn, as my little niece says. And you, lad?
All dorn! Let me keep your case for you till the morning.
But the cold feeling is beginning.
Lend it me, then.
And the drag down my right side. I shant be able to move in a minute.
I can scarcely lift my arm myself, said Conroy. Were in for it.
Then why are you so foolish? You know itll be easier if we have only oneonly one apiece.
She was lifting the case to her mouth. With tremendous effort Conroy caught it. The two moved like jointed dolls, and when their hands met it was as wood on wood.
You mustnot! said Conroy. His jaws stiffened, and the cold climbed from his feet up.
WhymustInot? She repeated the words idiotically.
Conroy could only shake his head, while he bore down on the hand and the case in it.
Her speech went from her altogether. The wonderful lips rested half over the even teeth, the breath was in the nostrils only, the eyes dulled, the face set grey, and through the glove the hand struck like ice.
Presently her soul came back and stood behind her eyesonly thing that had life in all that placestood and looked for Conroys soul. He too was fettered in every limb, but somewhere at an immense distance he heard his heart going about its work as the engine-room carries on through and beneath the all but overwhelming wave. His one hope, he knew, was not to lose the eyes that clung to his, because there was an Evil abroad which would possess him if he looked aside by a hairbreadth.
The rest was darkness through which some distant planet spun while cymbals clashed. (Beyond Farnborough the 10.8 rolls out many empty milk-cans at every halt.) Then a body came to life with intolerable pricklings. Limb by limb, after agonies of terror, that body returned to him, steeped in most perfect physical weariness such as follows a long days rowing. He saw the heavy lids droop over her eyesthe watcher behind them departedand, his soul sinking into assured peace, Conroy slept.
Light on his eyes and a salt breath roused him without shock. Her hand still held his. She slept, forehead down upon it, but the movement of his waking waked her too, and she sneezed like a child.
II think its morning, said Conroy.
And nothing has happened! Did you see your Men? I didnt see my Faces. Does it mean weve escaped? Diddid you take any after I went to sleep? Ill swear I didnt, she stammered.
No, there wasnt any need. Weve slept through it.
No need! Thank God! There was no need! Oh, look!
The train was running under red cliffs along a sea-wall washed by waves that were colourless in the early light. Southward the sun rose mistily upon the Channel.
She leaned out of the window and breathed to the bottom of her lungs, while the wind wrenched down her dishevelled hair and blew it below her waist.
Well! she said with splendid eyes. Arent you still waiting for something to happen?
No. Not till next time. Weve been let off, Conroy answered, breathing as deeply as she.
Then we ought to say our prayers.
What nonsense! Some one will see us.
We neednt kneel. Stand up and say Our Father. We must!
It was the first time since childhood that Conroy had prayed. They laughed hysterically when a curve threw them against an arm-rest.
Now for breakfast! she cried. My maidNurse Blaberhas the basket and things. Itll be ready in twenty minutes. Oh! Look at my hair! and she went out laughing.
Conroys first discovery, made without fumbling or counting letters on taps, was that the London and South Westerns allowance of washing-water is inadequate. He used every drop, rioting in the cold tingle on neck and arms. To shave in a moving train balked him, but the next halt gave him a chance, which, to his own surprise, he took. As he stared at himself in the mirror he smiled and nodded. There were points about this person with the clear, if sunken, eye and the almost uncompressed mouth. But when he bore his bag back to his compartment, the weight of it on a limp arm humbled that new pride.
My friend, he said, half aloud, you go into training. Your putty.
She met him in the spare compartment, where her maid had laid breakfast.
By Jove, he said, halting at the doorway, I hadnt realised how beautiful you were!
The same to you, lad. Sit down. I could eat a horse.
I shouldnt, said the maid quietly. The less you eat the better. She was a small, freckled woman, with light fluffy hair and pale-blue eyes that looked through all veils.
This is Miss Blaber,said Miss Henschil. Hes one of the soul-weary too, Nursey.
I know it. But when one has just given it up a full meal doesnt agree. Thats why Ive only brought you bread and butter.
She went out quietly, and Conroy reddened.
Were still children, you see, said Miss Henschil. But Im well enough to feel some shame of it. Dyou take sugar?
They starved together heroically, and Nurse Blaber was good enough to signify approval when she came to clear away.
Nursey? Miss Henschil insinuated, and flushed.
Do you smoke? said the nurse coolly to Conroy.
I havent in years. Now you mention it, I think Id like a cigaretteor something.
I used to. Dyou think it would keep me quiet? Miss Henschil said.
Perhaps. Try these. The nurse handed them her cigarette-case.
Dont take anything else, she commanded, and went away with the tea-basket.
Good! grunted Conroy, between mouthfuls of tobacco.
Better than nothing, said Miss Henschil; but for a while they felt ashamed, yet with the comfort of children punished together.
Now, she whispered, who were you when you were a man?
Conroy told her, and in return she gave him her history. It delighted them both to deal once more in worldly concernsfamilies, names, places, and dateswith a person of understanding.
She came, she said, of Lancashire folkwealthy cotton-spinners, who still kept the broadened a and slurred aspirate of the old stock. She lived with an old masterful mother in an opulent world north of Lancaster Gate, where people in Society gave parties at a Mecca called the Langham Hotel.
She herself had been launched into Society there, and the flowers at the ball had cost eighty-seven pounds; but, being reckoned peculiar, she had made few friends among her own sex. She had attracted many men, for she was a beautythe beauty, in fact, of Society, she said.
She spoke utterly without shame or reticence, as a life-prisoner tells his past to a fellow-prisoner; and Conroy nodded across the smoke-rings.
Do you remember when you got into the carriage? she asked. (Oh, I wish I had some knitting!) Did you notice aught, lad?
Conroy thought back. It was ages since. Wasnt there some one outside the doorcrying? he asked.
Heshes the little man I was engaged to, she said. But I made him break it off. I told him twas no good. But he wont, yo see.
That fellow? Why, he doesnt come up to your shoulder.
Thats naught to do with it. I think all the world of him. Im a foolish wenchher speech wandered as she settled herself cosily, one elbow on the arm-rest. Wed been engagedI couldnt help thatand he worships the ground I tread on. But its no use. Im not responsible, you see. His two sisters are against it, though Ive the money. Theyre right, but they think its the dri-ink, she drawled. Theyre Methodythe Skinners. You see, their grandfather that started the Patton Mills, he died o the dri-ink.
I see, said Conroy. The grave face before him under the lifted veil was troubled.
George Skinner. She breathed it softly. Id make him a good wife, by Gods gra-aceif I could. But its no use. Im not responsible. But hell not take No for an answer. I used to call him Toots. Hes of no consequence, yo see.
Thats in Dickens, said Conroy, quite quickly, I havent thought of Toots for years. He was at Doctor Blimbers.
And sothats my trouble, she concluded, ever so slightly wringing her hands. But Idont you thinktheres hope now?
Eh? said Conroy. Oh yes! This is the first time Ive turned my corner without help. With your help, I should say.
Itll come back, though.
Then shall we meet it in the same way? Heres my card. Write me your train, and well go together.
Yes. We must do that. But between timeswhen we want She looked at her palm, the four fingers working on it. Its hard to give em up.
I But think what we have gained already, and let me have the case to keep.
She shook her head, and threw her cigarette out of the window. Not yet.
Then lets lend our cases to Nurse, and well get through to-day on cigarettes. Ill call her while we feel strong.
She hesitated, but yielded at last, and Nurse accepted the offerings with a smile.
Youll be all right, she said to Miss Henschil. But if I were youto Conroy, Id take strong exercise.
When they reached their destination Conroy set himself to obey Nurse Blaber. He had no remembrance of that day, except one streak of blue sea to his left, gorse-bushes to his right, and, before him, a coast-guards track marked with white-washed stones that he counted up to the far thousands. As he returned to the little town he saw Miss Henschil on the beach below the cliffs. She kneeled at Nurse Blabers feet, weeping and pleading.
Twenty-five days later a telegram came to Conroys rooms: Notice given. Waterloo again. Twenty fourth. That same evening he was wakened by the shudder and the sigh that told him his sentence had gone forth. Yet he reflected on his pillow that he had, in spite of lapses, snatched something like three weeks of life, which included several rides on a horse before breakfastthe hour one most craves Najdolene; five consecutive evenings on the river at Hammersmith in a tub where he had well stretched the white arms that passing crews mocked at; a game of rackets at his club; three dinners, one small dance, and one human flirtation with a human woman. More notable still, he had settled his months accounts, only once confusing petty cash with the days of grace allowed him. Next morning he rode his hired beast in the park victoriously. He saw Miss Henschil on horseback near Lancaster Gate, talking to a young man at the railings.
She wheeled and cantered toward him.
By Jove! How well you look! he cried, without salutation. I didnt know you rode.
I used to once, she replied. Im all soft now.
They swept off together down the ride.
Your beast pulls, he said.
Wa-ant him to. Gi-gives me something to think of. Howve you been? she panted. I wish chemists shops hadnt red lights.
Have you slipped out and bought some, then?
You dont know Nursey. Eh, but its good to be on a horse again! This chap cost me two hundred.
Then youve been swindled, said Conroy.
I know it, but its no odds. I must go back to Toots and send him away. Hes neglecting his work for me.
She swung her heavy-topped animal on his none too sound hocks. Sentence come, lad?
Yes. But Im not minding it so much this time.
Waterloo, thenand God help us! She thundered back to the little frock-coated figure that waited faithfully near the gate.
Conroy felt the spring sun on his shoulders and trotted home. That evening he went out with a man in a pair oar, and was rowed to a standstill. But the other man owned he could not have kept the pace five minutes longer.
He carried his bag all down Number 3 platform at Waterloo, and hove it with one hand into the rack.
Well done! said Nurse Blaber, in the corridor. Weve improved too.
Dr. Gilbert and an older man came out of the next compartment.
Hallo! said Gilbert. Why havent you been to see me, Mr. Conroy? Come under the lamp. Take off your hat. Nono. Sit, you young giant. Ve-ry good. Look here a minute, Johnnie.
A little, round-bellied, hawk-faced person glared at him.
Gilbert was right about the beauty of the beast, he muttered. Dyou keep it in your glove now? he went on, and punched Conroy in the short ribs.
No, said Conroy meekly, but without coughing. Nowhereon my honour! Ive chucked it for good.
Wait till you are a sound man before you say that, Mr. Conroy. Sir John Chartres stumped out, saying to Gilbert in the corridor, Its all very fine, but the question is shall I or we Sir Pandarus of Troy become, eh? Were bound to think of the children.
Have you been vetted? said Miss Henschil, a few minutes after the train started. May I sit with you? II dont trust myself yet. I cant give up as easily as you can, seemingly.
Cant you? I never saw any one so improved in a month.
Look here! She reached across to the rack, single-handed lifted Conroys bag, and held it at arms length. I counted ten slowly. And I didnt think of hours or minutes, she boasted.
Dont remind me, he cried.
Ah! Now Ive reminded myself. I wish I hadnt. Do you think itll be easier for us to-night?
Oh, dont. The smell of the carriage had brought back all his last trip to him, and Conroy moved uneasily.
Im sorry. Ive brought some games, she went on. Draughts and cardsbut they all mean counting. I wish Id brought chess, but I cant play chess. What can we do? Talk about something.
Well, hows Toots, to begin with? said Conroy.
Why? Did you see him on the platform?
No. Was he there? I didnt notice.
Oh yes. He doesnt understand. Hes desperately jealous. I told him it doesnt matter. Will you please let me hold your hand? I believe Im beginning to get the chill.
Toots ought to envy me, said Conroy.
He does. He paid you a high compliment the other night. Hes taken to calling againin spite of all they say.
Conroy inclined his head. He felt cold, and knew surely he would be colder.
He said, she yawned. (Beg your pardon.) He said he couldnt see how I could help falling in love with a man like you; and he called himself a damned little rat, and he beat his head on the piano last night.
The piano? You play, then?
Only to him. He thinks the world of my accomplishments. Then I told him I wouldnt have you if you were the last man on earth instead of only the best-lookingnot with a million in each stocking.
No, not with a million in each stocking, said Conroy vehemently. Isnt that odd?
I suppose soto any one who doesnt know. Well, where was I? Oh, George as good as told me I was deceiving him, and he wanted to go away without saying good-night. He hates standing a-tiptoe, but he must if I wont sit down.
Conroy would have smiled, but the chill that foreran the coming of the Lier-in-Wait was upon him, and his hand closed warningly on hers.
Andand so she was trying to say, when her hour also overtook her, leaving alive only the fear-dilated eyes that turned to Conroy. Hand froze on hand and the body with it as they waited for the horror in the blackness that heralded it. Yet through the worst Conroy saw, at an uncountable distance, one minute glint of light in his night. Thither would he go and escape his fear; and behold, that light was the light in the watchtower of her eyes, where her locked soul signalled to his soul: Look at me!
In time, from him and from her, the Thing sheered aside, that each soul might step down and resume its own concerns. He thought confusedly of people on the skirts of a thunderstorm, withdrawing from windows where the torn night is, to their known and furnished beds. Then he dozed, till in some drowsy turn his hand fell from her warmed hand.
Thats all. The Faces havent come, he heard her say. Allthank God! I dont feel even I need what Nursey promised me. Do you?
No. He rubbed his eyes. But dont make too sure.
Certainly not. We shall have to try again next month. Im afraid it will be an awful nuisance for you.
Not to me, I assure you, said Conroy, and they leaned back and laughed at the flatness of the words, after the hells through which they had just risen.
And now, she said, strict eyes on Conroy, why wouldnt you take menot with a million in each stocking?
I dont know. Thats what Ive been puzzling over.
So have I. Were as handsome a couple as Ive ever seen. Are you well off, lad?
They call me so, said Conroy, smiling.
Thats North country. She laughed again. Setting aside my good looks and yours, Ive four thousand a year of my own, and the rents should make it six. Thats a match some old cats would lap tea all night to fettle up.
It is. Lucky Toots! said Conroy.
Ay, she answered, hell be the luckiest lad in London if I win through. Whos yours?
Nono one, dear. Ive been in Hell for years. I only want to get out and be alive andso on. Isnt that reason enough?
Maybe, for a man. But I never minded things much till George came. I was all stu-upid like.
So was I, but now I think I can live. It ought to be less next month, oughtnt it? he said.
I hope so. Ye-es. Theres nothing much for a maid except to be married, and ask no more. Whoever yours is, when youve found her, she shall have a wedding present from Mrs. George Skinner that
But she wouldnt understand it any more than Toots.
He doesnt matterexcept to me. I cant keep my eyes open, thank God! Good-night, lad.
Conroy followed her with his eyes. Beauty there was, grace there was, strength, and enough of the rest to drive better men than George Skinner to beat their heads on piano-topsbut for the new-found life of him Conroy could not feel one flutter of instinct or emotion that turned to herward. He put up his feet and fell asleep, dreaming of a joyous, normal world recoveredwith interest on arrears. There were many things in it, but no one face of any one woman.
Conroy explained the exercises in which he delightedmighty labours of play undertaken against other mighty men, till he sweated and; having bathed, slept. He had visited his mother, too, in Hereford, and he talked something of her and of the home-life, which his body, cut out of all clean life for five years, innocently and deeply enjoyed. Nurse Blaber was a little interested in Conroys mother, but, as a rule, she smoked her cigarette and read her paper-backed novels in her own compartment.
On their last trip she volunteered to sit with them, and buried herself in The Cloister and the Hearth while they whispered together. On that occasion (it was near Salisbury) at two in the morning, when the Lier-in-Wait brushed them with his wing, it meant no more than that they should cease talk for the instant, and for the instant hold hands, as even utter strangers on the deep may do when their ship rolls underfoot.
But still, said Nurse Blaber, not looking up, I think your Mr. Skinner might feel jealous of all this.
It would be difficult to explain, said Conroy.
Then youd better not be at my wedding, Miss Henschil laughed.
After all weve gone through, too. But I suppose you ought to leave me out. Is the day fixed? he cried.
Twenty-second of Septemberin spite of both his sisters. I can risk it now. Her face was glorious as she flushed.
My dear chap! He shook hands unreservedly, and she gave back his grip without flinching. I cant tell you how pleased I am!
Gracious Heavens! said Nurse Blaber, in a new voice. Oh, I beg your pardon. I forgot I wasnt paid to be surprised.
What at? Oh, I see! Miss Henschil explained to Conroy. She expected you were going to kiss me, or I was going to kiss you, or something.
After all youve gone through, as Mr. Conroy said.
But I couldnt, could you? said Miss Henschil, with a disgust as frank as that on Conroys face.
It would be horriblehorrible. And yet, of course, youre wonderfully handsome. How dyou account for it, Nursey?
Nurse Blaber shook her head. I was hired to cure you of a habit, dear. When youre cured I shall go on to the next casethat senile-decay one at Bournemouth I told you about.
And I shall be left alone with George! But suppose it isnt cured, said Miss Henschil of a sudden. Suppose it comes back again. What can I do? I cant send for him in this way when Im a married woman! She pointed like an infant.
Id come, of course, Conroy answered. But, seriously, that is a consideration.
They looked at each other, alarmed and anxious, and then toward Nurse Blaber, who closed her book, marked the place, and turned to face them.
Have you ever talked to your mother as you have to me? she said.
No. I might have spoken to dadbut mothers different. What dyou mean?
And youve never talked to your mother either, Mr. Conroy?
Not till I took Najdolene. Then I told her it was my heart. Theres no need to say anything, now that Im practically over it, is there?
Not if it doesnt come back, but She beckoned with a stumpy, triumphant finger that drew their heads close together. You know I always go in and read a chapter to mother at tea, child.
I know you do. Youre an angel. Miss Henschil patted the blue shoulder next her. Mothers Church of England now, she explained. But shell have her Bible with her pikelets at tea every night like the Skinners.
It was Naaman and Gehazi last Tuesday that gave me a clue. I said Id never seen a case of leprosy, and your mother said shed seen too many.
Where? She never told me, Miss Henschil began.
A few months before you were bornon her trip to Australiaat Mola or Molo something or other. It took me three evenings to get it all out.
Aymothers suspicious of questions, said Miss Henschil to Conroy. Shell lock the door of every room shes in, if its but for five minutes. She was a Tackberry from Jarrow way, yo see.
She described your men to the lifemen with faces all eaten away, staring at her over the fence of a lepers hospital in this Molo Island. They begged from her, and she ran, she told me, all down the street, back to the pier. One touched her and she nearly fainted. Shes ashamed of that still.
My men? The sand and the fences? Miss Henschil muttered.
Yes. You know how tidy she is and how she hates wind. She remembered that the fences were brokenshe remembered the wind blowing. Sandsunsalt windfencesfacesI got it all out of her, bit by bit. You dont know what I know! And it all happened three or four months before you were born. There! Nurse Blaber slapped her knee with her little hand triumphantly.
Would that account for it? Miss Henschil shook from head to foot.
Absolutely. I dont care who you ask! You never imagined the thing. It was laid on you. It happened on earth to you! Quick, Mr. Conroy, shes too heavy for me! Ill get the flask.
Miss Henschil leaned forward and collapsed, as Conroy told her afterwards, like a factory chimney. She came out of her swoon with teeth that chartered on the cup.
Nono, she said, gulping. Its not hysterics. Yo see Ive no call to hev em any more. No callno reason whatever. God be praised! Cant yo feel Im a right woman now?
Stop hugging me! said Nurse Blaber. You dont know your strength. Finish the brandy and water. Its perfectly reasonable, and Ill lay long odds Mr. Conroys case is something of the same. Ive been thinking
I wonder said Conroy, and pushed the girl back as she swayed again.
Nurse Blaber smoothed her pale hair. Yes. Your trouble, or something like it, happened somewhere on earth or sea to the mother who bore you. Ask her, child. Ask her and be done with it once for all.
I will, said Conroy . . . . There ought to be He opened his bag and hunted breathlessly.
Bless you! Oh, God bless you, Nursey! Miss Henschil was sobbing. You dont know what this means to me. It takes it all offfrom the beginning.
But doesnt it make any difference to you now? the nurse asked curiously. Now that youre rightfully a woman?
Conroy, busy with his bag, had not heard. Miss Henschil stared across, and her beauty, freed from the shadow of any fear, blazed up within her. I see what you mean, she said. But it hasnt changed anything. I want Toots. He has never been out of his mind in his lifeexcept over silly me.
Its all right, said Conroy, stooping under the lamp, Bradshaw in hand. If I change at Templecombefor Bristol (BristolHerefordyes)I can be with mother for breakfast in her room and find out.
Quick, then, said Nurse Blaber. Weve passed Gillingham quite a while. Youd better take some of our sandwiches. She went out to get them. Conroy and Miss Henschil would have danced, but there is no room for giants in a South-Western compartment.
Good-bye, good luck, lad. Eh, but youve changed alreadylike me. Send a wire to our hotel as soon as youre sure, said Miss Henschil. What should I have done without you?
Or I? said Conroy. But its Nurse thats saving us really.
Then thank her, said Miss Henschil, looking straight at him. Yes, I would. Shed like it.
When Nurse Blaber came back after the parting at Templecombe her nose and her eyelids were red, but, for all that, her face reflected a great light even while she sniffed over The Cloister and the Hearth.
Miss Henschil, deep in a house furnishers catalogue, did not speak for twenty minutes. Then she said, between adding totals of best, guest, and servants sheets, But why should our times have been the same, Nursey?
Because a child is born somewhere every second of the clock, Nurse Blaber answered.
And besides that, you probably set each other off by talking and thinking about it. You shouldnt, you know.
Ay, but youve never been in Hell, said Miss Henschil.
The telegram handed in at Hereford at 12.46 and delivered to Miss Henschil on the beach of a certain village at 2.7 ran thus:
Absolutely confirmed. She says she remembers hearing noise of accident in engine-room returning from India eighty-five.
He means the year, not the thermometer, said Nurse Blaber, throwing pebbles at the cold sea.
And two men scalded thus explaining my hoots. (The idea of telling me that!) Subsequently silly clergyman passenger ran up behind her calling for joke, Friend, all is lost, thus accounting very words.
Nurse Blaber purred audibly.
She says only remembers being upset minute or two. Unspeakable relief. Best love Nursey, who is jewel. Get out of her what she would like best. Oh, I oughtnt to have read that, said Miss Henschil.
It doesnt matter. I dont want anything, said Nurse Blaber, and if I did I shouldnt get it.
THERE was darkness under Heaven For an hours space Darkness that we knew was given Us for special grace. Sun and moon and stars were hid, God had left His Throne, When Helen came to me, she did, Helen all alone!
Side by side (because our fate
When the Horror passing speech
When, at last, we heard those Fires
Let her go and find a mate, |
Were having a quiet evening together. Stalkys upstairs changing. Dinners at 7.15 sharp, because were hungry. His rooms next to yours, said The Infant, nursing a cobwebbed bottle of Burgundy.
Then I found Lieutenant-Colonel A.L. Corkran, I.A., who borrowed a collar-stud and told me about the East and his Sikh regiment.
And are your subalterns as good as ever? I asked.
Amazinsimply amazin! All Ive got to do is to find em jobs. They keep touchin their caps to me and askin for more work. Come at me with their tongues hangin out. I used to run the other way at their age.
And when they err? said I. I suppose they do sometimes?
Then they run to me again to weep with remorse over their virgin peccadilloes. I never cuddled my Colonel when I was in trouble. Lambspositive lambs!
And what do you say to em?
Talk to em like a papa. Tell em how I cant understand it, an how shocked I am, and how grieved their parentsll be; and throw in a little about the Army Regulations and the Ten Commandments. Makes one feel rather a sweep when one thinks of what one used to do at their age. Dyou remember
We remembered together till close on seven oclock. As we went out into the gallery that runs round the big hall, we saw The Infant, below, talking to two deferential well-set-up lads whom I had known, on and off, in the holidays, any time for the last ten years. One of them had a bruised cheek, and the other a weeping left eye.
Yes, thats the style, said Stalky below his breath. Theyre brought up on lemon-squash and mobilisation text-books. I say, the girls we knew must have been much better than they pretended they were; for Ill swear it isnt the fathers.
But why on earth did you do it? The Infant was shouting. You know what it means nowadays.
Well, sir, said Bobby Trivett, the taller of the two, Wontner talks too much, for one thing. He didnt join till he was twenty-three, and, besides that, he used to lecture on tactics in the ante-room. He said Clausewitz was the only tactician, and he illustrated his theories with cigarends. He was that sort of chap, sir.
And he didnt much care whose cigar-ends they were, said Eames, who was shorter and pinker.
And then he would talk about the Varsity, said Bobby. He got a degree there. And he told us we werent intellectual. He told the Adjutant so, sir. He was just that kind of chap, sir, if you understand.
Stalky and I backed behind a tall Japanese jar of chrysanthemums and listened more intently.
Was all the Mess in it, or only you two? The Infant demanded, chewing his moustache.
The Adjutant went to bed, of course, sir, and the Senior Subaltern said he wasnt going to risk his commissiontheyre awfully down on ragging nowadays in the Servicebut the rest of userattended to him, said Bobby.
Much? The Infant asked. The boys smiled deprecatingly.
Not in the ante-room, sir, said Eames. Then he called us silly children, and went to bed, and we sat up discussin, and I suppose we got a bit above ourselves, and weer
Went to his quarters and drew him? The Infant suggested.
Well, we only asked him to get out of bed, and we put his helmet and sword-belt on for him, and we sung him bits out of the Blue Fairy Bookthe cram-book on Army organisation. Oh yes, and then we asked him to drink old Clausewitzs health, as a brother-tactician, in milk punch and Worcester sauce, and so on. We had to help him a little there. He bites. There wasnt much else that time; but, you know, the War Office is severe on ragging these days. Bobby stopped with a lop-sided smile.
And then, Eames went on, then Wontner said wed done several pounds worth of damage to his furniture.
Oh, said The Infant, hes that kind of man, is he? Does he brush his teeth?
Oh yes, hes quite clean all over! said Trivett; but his fathers a wealthy barrister.
Solicitor, Eames corrected, and so this Mistet Wontner is out for our blood. Hes going to make a first-class row about itappeal to the War Office-court of inquiryspicy bits in the papers, and songs in the music-halls. He told us so.
Thats the sort of chap he is, said Trivett. And that means old Dhurrah-bags, our Colonel, ll be put on half-pay, same as that case in the Scarifungers Mess; and our Adjutantll have to exchange, like it was with that fellow in the 73rd Dragoons, and therell be misery all round. He means making it too hot for us, and his papall back him.
Yes, thats all very fine, said The Infant; but I left the Service about the time you were born, Bobby. Whats it got to do with me?
Father told me I was always to go to you when I was in trouble, and youve been awfully good to me since he . . .
Better stay to dinner. The Infant mopped his forehead.
Thank you very much, but the fact isTrivett halted.
This afternoon, about four, to be exact Eames broke in.
We went over to Wontners quarters to talk things over. The row only happened last night, and we found him writing letters as hard as he could to his fathergetting up his case for the War Office, you know. He read us some of em, but Im not a good judge of style. We tried to ride him off quietlyapologies and so forthbut it was the milk-punch and mayonnaise that defeated us.
Yes, he wasnt taking anything except pure revenge, said Eames.
He said hed make an example of the regiment, and he was particularly glad that hed landed our Colonel. He told us so. Old Dhurrah-bags dont sympathise with Wontners tactical lectures. He says Wontner ought to learn manners first, but we thought Trivett turned to Eames, who was less a son of the house than himself, Eames father being still alive.
Then, Eames went on, he became rather noisome, and we thought we might as well impound the correspondencehe wrinkled his swelled left eyeand after that, we got him to take a seat in my car.
He was in a sack, you know, Trivett explained. He wouldnt go any other way. But we didnt hurt him.
Oh no! His heads sticking out quite clear, andEames rushed the fenceweve put him in your garageer pendente lite.
My garage! Infants voice nearly broke with horror.
Well, father always told me if I was in trouble, Uncle George
Bobbys sentence died away as The Infant collapsed on a divan and said no more than, Your commissions! There was a long, long silence.
What price your latter-day lime juice subaltern? I whispered to Stalky behind my hand. His nostrils expanded, and he drummed on the edge of the Japanese jar with his knuckles.
Confound your father, Bobby! The Infant groaned. Raggins a criminal offence these days. It isnt as if
Come on, said Stalky. That was my old Line battalion in Egypt. They nearly slung old Dhurrah-bags and me out of the Service in 85 for ragging. He descended the stairs and The Infant rolled appealing eyes at him.
I heard what you youngsters have confessed, he began; and in his orderly-room voice, which is almost as musical as his singing one, he tongue-lashed those lads in such sort as was a privilege and a revelation to listen to. Till then they had known him almost as a relativewe were all brevet, deputy, or acting uncles to The Infants friends brooda sympathetic elder brother, sound on finance. They had never met Colonel A. L. Corkran in the Chair of Justice. And while he flayed and rent and blistered, and wiped the floor with them, and while they looked for hiding-places and found none on that floor, I remembered (1) the up-ending of Dolly Macshane at Dalhousie, which came perilously near a court-martial on Second-Lieutenant Corkran; (2) the burning of Captain Parmilees mosquito-curtains on a hot Indian dawn, when the captain slept in his garden, and Lieutenant Corkran, smoking, rode by after a successful whist night at the club; (3) the introduction of an ekka pony, with ekka attached, into a brother captains tent on a frosty night in Peshawur, and the removal of tent, pole, cot, and captain all wrapped in chilly canvas; (4) the bath that was given to Elliot-Hacker on his own verandahhis lady-love saw it and broke off the engagement, which was what the Mess intended, she being an Eurasianand the powdering all over of Elliot-Hacker with flour and turmeric from the bazaar.
When he took breath I realised how only Satan can rebuke sin. The good dont know enough.
Now, said Stalky, get out! No, not out of the house. Go to your rooms.
Ill send your dinner, Bobby, said The Infant. Ipps!
Nothing had ever been known to astonish Ipps, the butler. He entered and withdrew with his charges. After all, he had suffered from Bobby since Bobbys twelfth year.
Theyve done everything they could, short of murder, said The Infant. You know what thisll mean for the regiment. It isnt as if we were dealing with Sahibs nowadays.
Quite so. Stalky turned on me. Go and release the bagman, he said.
Tisnt my garage, I pleaded. Im company. Besides, hell probably slay me. Hes been in the sack for hours.
Look here, Stalky thunderedthe years had fallen from us bothis youram I commandin or are you? Weve got to pull this thing off somehow or other. Cut over to the garage, make much of him, and bring him over. Hes dining with us. Be quick, you dithering ass!
I was quick enough; but as I ran through the shrubbery I wondered how one extricates the subaltern of the present day from a sack without hurting his feelings. Anciently, one slit the end open, taking off his boots first, and then fled.
Imagine a sumptuously-equipped garage, half-filled by The Infants cobalt-blue, grey-corded silk limousine and a mud-splashed, cheap, hooded four-seater. In the back-seat of this last, conceive a fiery chestnut head emerging from a long oatsack; an implacable white face, with blazing eyes and jaws that worked ceaselessly at the loop of the string that was drawn round its neck. The effect, under the electrics, was that of a demon caterpillar wrathfully spinning its own cocoon.
Good evening! I said genially. Let me help you out of that. The head glared. Weve got em, I went on. They came to quite the wrong shop for this sort of gamequite the wrong shop.
Game! said the head. Well see about that. Let me out.
It was not a promising voice for one so young, and, as usual, I had no knife.
Youve chewed the string so I cant find the knot, I said as I worked with trembling fingers at the caterpillars throat. Something untied itself, and Mr. Wontner wriggled out, collarless, tieless, his coat split half down his back, his waistcoat unbuttoned, his watch-chain snapped, his trousers rucked well above the knees.
Where, he said grimly, as he pulled them down, are Master Trivett and Master Eames?
Both arrested, of course, I replied. Sir GeorgeI gave The Infants full title as a baronetis a Justice of the Peace. Hed be very pleased if you dined with us. Theres a room ready for you. I picked up the sack.
Dyou know, said Mr. Wontner through his teethbut the cars bonnet was between us, that this looks to me likeI wont say conspiracy yet, but uncommonly like a confederacy.
When injured souls begin to distinguish and qualify, danger is over. So I grew bold.
Sorry you take it that way, I said. You come here in trouble
My good fool, he interrupted, with a half-hysterical snort, let me assure you that the trouble will recoil on the other men!
As you please, I went on. Anyhow, the chaps who got you into trouble are arrested, and the magistrate who arrested em asks you to dinner. Shall I tell him youre walking back to Aldershot?
He picked some fluff off his waistcoat.
Im in no position to dictate terms yet, he said. That will come later. I must probe into this a little further. In the meantime, I accept your invitation without prejudiceif you under stand what that means.
I understood and began to be happy again. Subalterns without prejudices were quite new to me. All right, I replied; if youll go up to the house, Ill turn out the lights.
He walked off stiffly, while I searched the sack and the car for the impounded correspondence that Bobby had talked of. I found nothing except, as the police reports say, the trace of a struggle. He had kicked half the varnish off the back of the front seat, and had bitten the leather padding where he could reach it. Evidently a purposeful and hard-mouthed young gentleman.
Well done! said Stalky at the door. So he didnt slay you. Stop laughing. Hes talking to The Infant now about depositions. Look here, youre nearest his size. Cut up to your rooms and give Ipps your dinner things and a clean shirt for him.
But I havent got another suit, I said.
You! Im not thinking of you! Weve got to conciliate him. Hes in filthy rags and a filthy temper, and he wont feel decent till hes dressed. Youre the sacrifice. Be quick! And clean socks, remember!
Once more I trotted up to my room, changed into unseasonable unbrushed grey tweeds, put studs into a clean shirt, dug out fresh socks, handed the whole garniture over to Ipps, and returned to the hall just in time to hear Stalky say, Im a stockbroker, but I have the bonour to hold His Majestys commission in a Territorial battalion. Then I felt as though I might be beginning to be repaid.
I have a very high opinion of the Territorials myself, said Mr. Wontner above a glass of sherry. (Infant never lets us put bitters into anything above twenty years old.) But if you had any experience of the Service, you would find that the Average Army Man
Here The Infant suggested changing, and Ipps, before whom no human passion can assert itself, led Mr. Wontner away.
Why the devil did you tell him I was on the Bench? said Infant wrathfully to me. You know I aint now. Why didnt he stay in his fathers office? Hes a raging blight!
Not a bit of it, said Stalky cheerfully. Hes a little shaken and excited. Probably Beetle annoyed him in the garage, but we must overlook that. Weve contained him so far, and Im going to nibble round his outposts at dinner. All youve got to do, Infant, is to remember youre a gentleman in your own house. Dont hop! Youll find it pretty difficult before dinners over. I dont want to hear anything at all from you, Beetle.
But Im just beginning to like him, I said. Do let me play!
Not till I ask you. Youll overdo it. Poor old Dhurrah-bags! A scandal ud break him up!
But as long as a regiment has no say as to who joins it, its bound to rag, Infant began. Whywhy, they varnished me when I joined! He squirmed at the thought of it.
Dont be owls! We aint discussing principles! Weve got to save the court of inquiry if we can, said Stalky.
Five minutes laterat 7.45 to be precisewe four sat down to such a dinner as, I hold, only The Infants cook can produce, with wines worthy of pontifical banquets. A man in the extremity of rage and injured dignity is precisely like a typhoid patient. He asks no questions, accepts what is put before him, and babbles in one keyvery often of trifles. But food and drink are the very best of drugs. I think it was Heidsieck Dry Monopole 92Stalky as usual stuck to Burgundythat began to unlock Mr. Wontners heart behind my shirt-front. Me he snubbed throughout, after the Oxford manner, because I had seen him in the sack, and he did not intend me to presume; but to Stalky and The Infant, while I admired the set of my dinner jacket across his shoulders, he made his plans of revenge very clear indeed. He had even sketched out some of the paragraphs that were to appear in the papers, and if Stalky had allowed me to speak, I would have told him that they were rather neatly phrased.
You ought to be able to get whackin damages out of em, into the bargain, said Stalky, after Mr. Wontner had outlined his position legally.
My de-ah sir, Mr. Wontner applied himself to his glass, It isnt a matter that gentlemen usually discuss, but, I assure you, we Wontnershe waved a well-kept hand,do not stand in any need of filthy lucre. In the next three minutes, we learned exactly what his father was worth, which, as he pointed out, was a trifle no man of the world dwelt on. Stalky envied aloud, and I delivered my first kick at The Infants ankle. Thence we drifted to education, and the Average Army Man, and the desolating vacuityI remember these wordsof Army Society, notably among its womenkind. It appeared there was some sort of narrow convention in the Army against mentioning a womans name at Mess. We were much surprised at thisStalky would not let me express my surprisebut we took it from Mr. Wontner, who said we might, that it was so. Next he touched on Colonels of the old school, and their cognisance of tactics. Not that he himself pretended to any skill in tactics, but after three years at the Varsitynone of us had had a Varsity educationa man insensibly contracted the habit of clear thinking. At least, he could automatically co-ordinate his ideas, and the jealousy of these muddle-headed Colonels was inconceivable. We would understand that it was his duty to force on the retirement of his Colonel, who had been in the conspiracy against him; to make his Adjutant resign or exchange; and to give the half-dozen childish subalterns who had vexed his dignity a chance to retrieve themselves in other corpsWest African ones, he hoped. For himself, after the case was decided, he proposed to go on living in the regiment, just to provefor he bore no malicethat times had changed, nosque mutamur in illisif we knew what that meant. Infant had curled his legs out of reach, so I was quite free to return thanks yet once more to Allah for the diversity of His creatures in His adorable world.
And so, by way of an eighty-year-old liqueur brandy, to tactics and the great General Clausewitz, unknown to the Average Army Man. Here The Infant, at a whisper from Ippswhose face had darkened like a mulberry while he waitedexcused himself and went away, but Stalky, Colonel of Territorials, wanted some tips, on tactics. He got them unbrokenly for ten minutesWontner and Clausewitz mixed, but Wontner in a film of priceless cognac distinctly on top. When The Infant came back, he renewed his clear-spoken demand that Infant should take his depositions. I supposed this to be a family trait of the Wontners, whom I had been visualising for some time past even to the third generation.
But, hang it all, theyre both asleep! said Infant, scowling at me. Ipps let em have the 81 port.
Asleep! said Stalky, rising at once. I dont see that makes any difference. As a matter of form, youd better identify them. Ill show you the way.
We followed up the white stone side-staircase that leads to the bachelors wing. Mr. Wontner seemed surprised that the boys were not in the coal-cellar.
Oh, a chaps assumed to be innocent until hes proved guilty, said Stalky, mounting step by step. How did they get you into the sack, Mr. Wontner?
Jumped on me from behindtwo to one, said Mr. Wontner briefly. I think I handed each of them something first, but they roped my arms and legs.
And did they photograph you in the sack?
Good Heavens, no! Mr. Wontner shuddered.
Thats lucky. Awful thing to live downa photograph, isnt it? said Stalky to me as we reached the landing. Im thinking of the newspapers, of course.
Oh, but you can easily have sketches in the illustrated papers from accounts supplied by eyewitnesses, I said.
Mr. Wontner turned him round. It was the first time he had honoured me by his notice since our talk in the garage.
Ah, said he, do you pretend to any special knowledge in these matters?
Im a journalist by profession, I answered simply but nobly. As soon as youre at liberty, Id like to have your account of the affair.
Now I thought he would have loved me for this, but he only replied in an uncomfortable, uncoming-on voice, Oh, you would, would you?
Not if its any trouble, of course, I said. I can always get their version from the defendants. Do either of em draw or sketch at all, Mr. Wontner? Or perhaps your father might
&Then he said quite hotly, I wish you to understand very clearly, my good man, that a gentlemans name cant be dragged through the glitter to bolster up the circulation of your wretched sheet, whatever it may be.
It is I named a journal of enormous sales which specialises in scholastic, military, and other scandals. I dont know yet what it cant do, Mr. Wontner.
I didnt know that I was dealing with a reporter, said Mr. Wontner.
We were all halted outside a shut door. Ipps had followed us.
But surely you want it in the papers, dont you? I urged. With a scandal like this, one couldnt, in justice to the democracy, be exclusive. Wed syndicate it here and in the United States. I helped you out of the sack, if you remember.
I wish to goodness youd stop talking! he snapped, and sat down on a chair. Stalkys hand on my shoulder quietly signalled me out of action, but I felt that my fire had not been misdirected.
Ill answer for him, said Stalky to Wontner, in an undertone that dropped to a whisper. I caughtNot without my leavedependent on me for market-tips, and other gratifying tributes to my integrity.
Still Mr. Wontner sat in his chair, and still we waited on him. The Infants face showed worry and heavy grief; Stalkys, a bright and bird-like interest; mine was hidden behind his shoulders, but on the face of Ipps were written emotions that no butler should cherish towards any guest. Contempt and wrath were the least of them. And Mr. Wontner was looking full at Ipps, as Ipps was looking at him. Mr. Wontners father, I understood, kept a butler and two footmen.
Dyou suppose theyre shamming, in order to get off? he said at last. Ipps shook his head and noiselessly threw the door open. The boys had finished their dinner and were fast asleepone on a sofa, one in a long chairtheir faces fallen back to the lines of their childhood. They had had a wildish night, a hard day, that ended with a telling-off from an artist, and the assurance they had wrecked their prospects for life. What else should youth do, then, but eat, and drink 81 port, and remember their sorrows no more?
Mr. Wontner looked at them severely, Ipps within easy reach, his hands quite ready. Childish, said Mr. Wontner at last. Childish but necessary. Erhave you such a thing as a rope on the premises, and a sacktwo sacks and two ropes? Im afraid I cant resist the temptation. That man understands, doesnt he, that this is a private matter?
That man, who was me, was off to the basement like one of Infants own fallow-deer. The stables gave me what I wanted, and coming back with it through a dark passage, I ran squarely into Ipps. Go on! he grunted. The minute he lays hands on Master Bobby, Master Bobbys saved. But that person ought to be told how near he came to being assaulted. It was touch-and-go with me all the time from the soup down, I assure you.
I arrived breathless with the sacks and the ropes.
They were two to one with me, said Mr. Wontner, as he took them. If they wake
Well stand by, Stalky replied. Two to one is quite fair.
But the boys hardly grunted as Mr. Wontner roped first one and then the other. Even when they were slid into the sacks they only mumbled, with rolling heads, through sticky lips and snored on.
Port? said Mr. Wontner virtuously.
Nervous exhaustion. They arent much more than kids, after all. Whats next? said Stalky.
I want to take em away with me, please.
Stalky looked at him with respect.
Ill have my car round in five minutes, said The Infant. Ippsll help carry em downstairs, and he shook Mr. Wontner by the hand.
We were all perfectly serious till the two bundles were dumped on a divan in the hall, and the boys waked and began to realise what had happened.
Yah! said Mr. Wontner, with the simplicity of twelve years old. Whos scored now? And he sat upon them. The tension broke in a storm of laughter, led, I think, by Ipps.
Asinineabsolutely asinine!said Mr. Wontner, with folded arms from his lively chair. But he drank in the flattery and the fellowship of it all with quite a brainless grin, as we rolled and stamped round him, and wiped the tears from our cheeks.
Hang it! said Bobby Trivett. Were defeated!
By tactics, too, said Eames. I didnt think you knew em, Clausewitz. Its a fair score. What are you going to do with us?
Take you back to Mess, said Mr. Wontner.
Not like this?
Oh no. Worsemuch worse! I havent begun with you yet. And you thought youd scored! Yah!
They had scored beyond their wildest dream. The man in whose hands it lay to shame them, their Colonel, their Adjutant, their Regiment, and their Service, had cast away all shadow of his legal rights for the sake of a common or bear-garden ragsuch a rag as if it came to the ears of the authorities, would cost him his commission. They were saved, and their saviour was their equal and their brother. So they chaffed and reviled him as such till he again squashed the breath out of them, and we others laughed louder than they.
Fall in! said Stalky when the limousine came round. This is the score of the century. I wouldnt miss it for a brigade! We shant be long, Infant!
I hurried into a coat.
Is there any necessity for that reporter-chap to come too? said Mr. Wontner in an unguarded whisper. He isnt dressed for one thing.
Bobby and Eames wriggled round to look at the reporter, began a joyous bellow, and suddenly stopped.
Whats the matter? said Wontner with suspicion.
Nothing, said Bobby. I die happy, Clausewitz. Take me up tenderly.
We packed into the car, bearing our sheaves with us, and for half an hour, as the cool nightair fanned his thoughtful brow, Mr. Wontner was quite abreast of himself. Though he said nothing unworthy, he triumphed and trumpeted a little loudly over the sacks. I sat between them on the back seat, and applauded him servilely till he reminded me that what I had seen and what he had said was not for publication. I hinted, while the boys plunged with joy inside their trappings, that this might be a matter for arrangement. Then a sovereign shant part us, said Mr. Wontner cheerily, and both boys fell into lively hysterics. I dont see where the joke comes in for you, said Mr. Wontner. I thought it was my little jokelet to-night.
No, Clausewitz, gasped Bobby. Some is, but not all. Ill be good now. Ill give you my parole till we get to Mess. I wouldnt be out of this for a fiver.
Nor me, said Eames, and he gave his parole to attempt no escape or evasion.
Now, I suppose, said Mr. Wontner largely to Stalky, as we neared the suburbs of Ash, you have a good deal of practical joking on the Stock Exchange, havent you?
And when were you on the Stock Exchange, Uncle Leonard? piped Bobby, while Eames laid his sobbing head on my shoulder.
Im sorry, said Stalky, but the fact is, I command a regiment myself when Im at home. Your Colonel knows me, I think. He gave his name. Mr. Wontner seemed to have heard of it. We had to pick Eames off the floor, where he had cast himself from excess of delight.
Oh, Heavens! said Mr. Wontner after a long pause. What have I done? What havent I done? We felt the temperature in the car rise as he blushed.
You didnt talk tactics, Clausewitz? said Bobby. Oh, say it wasnt tactics, darling!
It was, said Wontner.
Eames was all among our feet again, crying, If you dont let me get my arms up, Ill be sick. Lets hear what you said. Tell us.
But Mr. Wonter turned to Stalky. Its no good my begging your pardon, sir, I suppose, he said.
Dont you notice em, said Stalky. It was a fair rag all round, and anyhow, you two youngsters havent any right to talk tactics. Youve been rolled up, horse, foot, and guns.
Ill make a treaty. If youll let us go and change presently, said Bobby, Ill promise we wont tell about you, Clausewitz. You talked tactics to Uncle Len? Old Dhurrah-bags will like that. He dont love you, Claus.
If Ive made one ass of myself, I shall take extra care to make asses of you! said Wontner. I want to stop, please, at the next milliners shop on the right. It ought to be close here.
He evidently knew the country even in the dark, for the car stopped at a brilliantly-lighted millinery establishment, whereit was Saturday eveninga young lady was clearing up the counter. I followed him, as a good reporter should.
Have you got he began. Ah, tbosell do! He pointed to two hairy plush beehive bonnets, one magenta, the other a conscientious electric blue. How much, please? Ill take them both, and that bunch of peacock feathers, and that red feather thing. It was a brilliant crimson-dyed pigeons wing.
Now I want some yards of muslin with a nice, fierce pattern, please. He got ityellow with black tulipsand returned heavily laden.
Sorry to have kept you, said he. Now well go to my quarters to change and beautify.
We came to themopposite a dun waste of parade-ground that might have been Mian Mirand bugles as they blew and drums as they rolled set heart-strings echoing.
We hoisted the boys out and arranged them on chairs, while Wontner changed into uniform, but stopped when he saw me taking off my jacket.
What on earths that for? said he.
Because youve been wearing my evening things, I said. I want to get into em again, if you dont mind.
Then you arent a reporter? he said
No, I said, but that shant part us.
Oh, hurry! cried Eames in desperate convulsions. We cant stand this much longer. Tisnt fair on the young.
Ill attend to you in good time, said Wontner; and when he had made careful toilet, he unwrapped the bonnets, put the peacocks feather into the magenta one, pinned the crimson wing on the blue one, set them daintily on the boys heads, and bade them admire the effect in his shaving-glass while he ripped the muslin into lengths, bound it first, and draped it artistically afterwards a little below their knees. He finished off with a gigantic sash-bow, obi fashion. Hobble skirts, he explained to Stalky, who nodded approval.
Next he split open the bottom of each sack so that they could walk, but with very short steps. I ought to have got you white satin slippers, he murmured, and Im sorry theres no rouge.
Dont worry on our account, old manyoure doing us proud, said Bobby from under his hat. This beats milk-punch and mayonnaise.
Oh, why didnt we think of these things when we had him at our mercy? Eames wailed. Never mindwell try it on the next chap. Youve a mind, Claus.
Now well call on em at Mess, said Wontner, as they minced towards the door.
I think Ill call on your Colonel, said Stalky. He oughtnt to miss this. Your first attempt? I assure you I couldnt have done it better myself. Thank you! He held out his hand.
Thank you, sir! said Wontner, shaking it. Im more grateful to you than I can say, andand Id like you to believe some time that Im not quite as big a
Not in the least, Stalky interrupted. If I were writing a confidential report on you, I should put you down as rather adequate. Look after your geishas, or theyll fall!
We watched the three cross the road and disappear into the shadow of the mess verandah. There was a noise. Then telephone bells rang, a sergeant and a mess waiter charged out, and the noise grew, till at last the Mess was a little noisy.
We came back, ten minutes later, with Colonel Dalziell, who had been taking his sorrows to bed with him. The ante-room was quite full and visitors were still arriving, but it was possible to hear oneself speak occasionally. Trivett and Eames, in sack and sash, sat side by side on a table, their hats at a ravishing angle, coquettishly twiddling their tied feet. In the intervals of singing Put Me Among the Girls, they sipped whisky-and-soda held to their lips by, I regret to say, a Major. Public opinion seemed to be against allowing them to change their costume till they should have danced in it. Wontner, lying more or less gracefully at the level of the chandelier in the arms of six subalterns, was lecturing on tactics and imploring to be let down, which he was with a run when they realised that the Colonel was there. Then he picked himself up from the sofa and said: I want to apologise, sir, to you and the Mess for having been such an ass ever since I joined!
This was when the noise began.
Seeing the night promised to be wet, Stalky and I went home again in The Infants car. It was some time since we had tasted the hot air that lies between the cornice and the ceiling of crowded rooms.
After half an hours silence, Stalky said to me I dont know what youve been doing, but 1 believe Ive been weepin. Would you put that down to Burgundy or senile decay?
THESE were our children who died for our lands: they were dear in our sight. We have only the memory left of their home-treasured sayings and laughter. The price of our loss shall be paid to our hands, not anothers hereafter. Neither the Alien nor Priest shall decide on it. That is our right. But who shall return us the children ?
At the hour the Barbarian chose to disclose his pretences,
They bought us anew with their blood, forbearing to blame us,
Nor was their agony brief, or once only imposed on them.
That flesh we had nursed from the first in all cleanness was given |
We picked by lot. Mrs. Godfrey drew first choice; her married daughter, second. I was third, but waived my right because I was already owned by Malachi, Bettinas full brother, whom I had brought over in the car to visit his nephews and nieces, and he would have slain them all if I had taken home one. Milly, Mrs. Godfreys younger daughter, pounced on my rejection with squeals of delight, and Attley turned to a dark, sallow-skinned, slack-mouthed girl, who had come over for tennis, and invited her to pick. She put on a pair of pince-nez that made her look like a camel, knelt clumsily, for she was long from the hip to the knee, breathed hard, and considered the last couple.
I think Id like that sandy-pied one, she said.
Oh, not him, Miss Sichliffe! Attley cried. He was overlaid or had sunstroke or something. They call him The Looney in the kennels. Besides, he squints.
I think thats rather fetching, she answered. Neither Malachi nor I had ever seen a squinting dog before.
Thats choreaSt. Vituss dance, Mrs. Godfrey put in. He ought to have been drowned.
But I like his cast of countenance, the girl persisted.
He doesnt look a good life, I said, but perhaps he can be patched up. Miss Sichliffe turned crimson; I saw Mrs. Godfrey exchange a glance with her married daughter, and knew I had said something which would have to be lived down.
Yes, Miss Sichliffe went on, her voice shaking, he isnt a good life, but perhaps I canpatch him up. Come here, sir. The misshapen beast lurched toward her, squinting down his own nose till he fell over his own toes. Then, luckily, Bettina ran across the lawn and reminded Malachi of their puppyhood. All that family are as queer as Dicks hatband, and fight like man and wife. I had to separate them, and Mrs. Godfrey helped me till they retired under the rhododendrons and had it out in silence.
Dyou know what that girls father was? Mrs. Godfrey asked.
No, I replied. I loathe her for her own sake. She breathes through her mouth.
He was a retired doctor, she explained. He used to pick up stormy young men in the repentant stage, take them home, and patch them up till they were sound enough to be insured. Then he insured them heavily, and let them out into the world againwith an appetite. Of course, no one knew him while he was alive, but he left pots of money to his daughter.
Strictly legitimatehighly respectable, I said. But what a life for the daughter!
Mustnt it have been! Now dyou realise what you said just now?
Perfectly; and now youve made me quite happy, shall we go back to the house?
When we reached it they were all inside, sitting on committee of names.
What shall you call yours? I heard Milly ask Miss Sichliffe.
Harvey, she repliedHarveys Sauce, you know. Hes going to be quite saucy when Iveshe saw Mrs. Godfrey and me coming through the French windowwhen hes stronger.
Attley, the well-meaning man, to make me feel at ease, asked what I thought of the name.
Oh, splendid, I said at random. H with an A, A with an R, R with a
But thats Little Bingo, some one said, and they all laughed.
Miss Sichliffe, her hands joined across her long knees, drawled, You ought always to verify your quotations.
It was not a kindly thrust, but something in the word quotation set the automatic side of my brain at work on some shadow of a word or phrase that kept itself out of memorys reach as a cat sits just beyond a dogs jump. When I was going home, Miss Sichliffe came up to me in the twilight, the pup on a leash, swinging her big shoes at the end of her tennis-racket.
Sorry, she said in her thick schoolboy-like voice. Im sorry for what I said to you about verifying quotations. I didnt know you well enough andanyhow, I oughtnt to have.
But you were quite right about Little Bingo, I answered. The spelling ought to have reminded me.
Yes, of course. Its the spelling, she said, and slouched off with the pup sliding after her. Once again my brain began to worry after something that would have meant something if it had been properly spelled. I confided my trouble to Malachi on the way home, but Bettina had bitten him in four places, and he was busy.
Weeks later, Attley came over to see me, and before his car stopped Malachi let me know that Bettina was sitting beside the chauffeur. He greeted her by the scruff of the neck as she hopped down; and I greeted Mrs. Godfrey, Attley, and a big basket.
Youve got to help me, said Attley tiredly. We took the basket into the garden, and there staggered out the angular shadow of a sandy-pied, broken-haired terrier, with one imbecile and one delirious ear, and two most hideous squints. Bettina and Malachi, already at grips on the lawn, saw him, let go, and fled in opposite directions.
Why have you brought that fetid hound here? I demanded.
Harvey? For you to take care of, said Attley, Hes had distemper, but Im going abroad.
Take him with you. I wont have him. Hes mentally afflicted.
Look here, Attley almost shouted, do I strike you as a fool?
Always, said I.
Well, then, if you say so, and Ella says so, that proves I ought to go abroad.
Wills wrong, quite wrong, Mrs. Godfrey interrupted; but you must take the pup.
My dear boy, my dear boy, dont you ever give anything to a woman, Attley snorted.
Bit by bit I got the story out of them in the quiet garden (never a sign from Bettina and Malachi), while Harvey stared me out of countenance, first with one cuttlefish eye and then with the other.
It appeared that, a month after Miss Sichliffe took him, the dog Harvey developed distemper. Miss Sichliffe had nursed him herself for some time; then she carried him in her arms the two miles to Mittleham, and weptactually weptat Attleys feet, saying that Harvey was all she had or expected to have in this world, and Attley must cure him. Attley, being by wealth, position, and temperament guardian to all lame dogs, had put everything aside for this unsavoury job, and, he asserted, Miss Sichliffe had virtually lived with him ever since.
She went home at night, of course, he exploded, but the rest of the time she simply infested the premises. Goodness knows,, Im not particular, but it was a scandal. Even the servants! . . . Three and four times a day, and notes in between, to know how the beast was. Hang it all, dont laugh! And wanting to send me flowers and goldfish. Do I look as if I wanted goldfish? Cant you two stop for a minute? (Mrs. Godfrey and I were clinging to each other for support.) And it isnt as if I waswas so alluring a personality, is it?
Attley commands more trust, goodwill, and affection than most men, for he is that rare angel, an absolutely unselfish bachelor, content to be run by contending syndicates of zealous friends. His situation seemed desperate, and I told him so.
Instant flight is your only remedy, was my verdict. Ill take care of both your cars while youre away, and you can send me over all the greenhouse fruit.
But why should I be chased out of my house by a she-dromedary? he wailed.
Oh, stop! Stop! Mrs. Godfrey sobbed. Youre both wrong. I admit youre right, but I know youre wrong.
Three and four times a day, said Attley, with an awful countenance. Im not a vain man, butlook here, Ella, Im not sensitive, I hope, but if you persist in making a joke of it
Oh, be quiet! she almost shrieked. Dyou imagine for one instant that your friends would ever let Mittleham pass out of their hands? I quite agree it is unseemly for a grown girl to come to Mittleham at all hours of the day and night
I told you she went home o nights, Attley growled.
Specially if she goes home o nights. Oh, but think of the life she must have led, Will!
Im not interfering with it; only she must leave me alone.
She may want to patch you up and insure you, I suggested.
Dyou know what you are? Mrs. Godfrey turned on me with the smile I have feared for the last quarter of a century. Youre the nice, kind, wise, doggy friend. You dont know how wise and nice you are supposed to be. Will has sent Harvey to you to complete the poor angels convalescence. You know all about dogs, or Will wouldnt have done it. Hes written her that. Youre too far off for her to make daily calls on you. Praps shell drop in two or three times a week, and write on other days. But it doesnt matter what she does, because you dont own Mittleham, dont you see?
I told her I saw most clearly.
Oh, youll get over that in a few days, Mrs. Godfrey countered. Youre the sporting, responsible, doggy friend who
He used to look at me like that at first, said Attley, with a visible shudder, but he gave it up after a bit. Its only because youre new to him.
But, confound you! hes a ghoul I began.
And when he gets quite well, youll send him back to her direct with your love, and shell give you some pretty four-tailed goldfish, said Mrs. Godfrey, rising. Thats all settled. Car, please. Were going to Brighton to lunch together.
They ran before I could get into my stride, so I told the dog Harvey what I thought of them and his mistress. He never shifted his position, but stared at me, an intense, lopsided stare, eye after eye. Malachi came along when he had seen his sister off, and from a distance counselled me to drown the brute and consort with gentlemen again. But the dog Harvey never even cocked his cockable ear.
And so it continued as long as he was with me. Where I sat, he sat and stared; where I walked, he walked beside, head stiffly slewed over one shoulder in single-barrelled contemplation of me. He never gave tongue, never closed in for a caress, seldom let me stir a step alone. And, to my amazement, Malachi, who suffered no stranger to live within our gates, saw this gaunt, growing, green-eyed devil wipe him out of my service and company without a whimper. Indeed, one would have said the situation interested him, for he would meet us returning from grim walks together, and look alternately at Harvey and at me with the same quivering interest that he showed at the mouth of a rat-hole. Outside these inspections, Malachi withdrew himself as only a dog or a woman can.
Miss Sichliffe came over after a few days (luckily I was out) with some elaborate story of paying calls in the neighbourhood. She sent me a note of thanks next day. I was reading it when Harvey and Malachi entered and disposed themselves as usual, Harvey close up to stare at me, Malachi half under the sofa, watching us both. Out of curiosity I returned Harveys stare, then pulled his lopsided head on to my knee, and took his eye for several minutes. Now, in Malachis eye I can see at any hour all that there is of the normal decent dog, flecked here and there with that strained half-soul which mans love and association have added to his nature. But with Harvey the eye was perplexed, as a tortured mans. Only by looking far into its deeps could one make out the spirit of the proper animal, beclouded and cowering beneath some unfair burden.
Leggatt, my chauffeur, came in for orders.
How dyou think Harveys coming on? I said, as I rubbed the brutes gulping neck. The vet had warned me of the possibilities of spinal trouble following distemper.
He aint my fancy, was the reply. But I dont question his comings and goings so long as I avent to sit alone in a room with him.
Why? Hes as meek as Moses, I said.
He fair gives me the creeps. Praps hell go out in fits.
But Harvey, as I wrote his mistress from time to time, throve, and when he grew better, would play by himself grisly games of spying, walking up, hailing, and chasing another dog. From these he would break off of a sudden and return to his normal stiff gait, with the air of one who had forgotten some matter of life and death, which could be reached only by staring at me. I left him one evening posturing with the unseen on the lawn, and went inside to finish some letters for the post. I must have been at work nearly an hour, for I was going to turn on the lights, when I felt there was somebody in the room whom, the short hairs at the back of my neck warned me, I was not in the least anxious to face. There was a mirror on the wall. As I lifted my eyes to it I saw the dog Harvey reflected near the shadow by the closed door. He had reared himself fulllength on his hind legs, his head a little one side to clear a sofa between us, and he was looking at me. The face, with its knitted brows and drawn lips, was the face of a dog, but the look, for the fraction of time that I caught it, was humanwholly and horribly human. When the blood in my body went forward again he had dropped to the floor, and was merely studying me in his usual one-eyed fashion. Next day I returned him to Miss Sichliffe. I would not have kept him another day for the wealth of Asia, or even Ella Godfreys approval.
Miss Sichliffes house I discovered to be a mid-Victorian mansion of peculiar villainy even for its period, surrounded by gardens of conflicting colours, all dazzling with glass and fresh paint on ironwork. Striped blinds, for it was a blazing autumn morning, covered most of the windows, and a voice sang to the piano an almost forgotten song of Jean Ingelows-
Methought that the stars were blinking bright, And the old brigs sails unfurled |
Down came the loud pedal, and the unrestrained cry swelled out across a bed of tritomas consuming in their own fires
When I said I will sail to my love this night On the other side of the world. |
I have no music, but the voice drew. I waited till the end:
Oh, maid most dear, I am not here have no place apart No dwelling more on sea or shore, But only in thy heart. |
It seemed to me a poor life that had no more than that to do at eleven oclock of a Tuesday forenoon. Then Miss Sichliffe suddenly lumbered through a French window in clumsy haste, her brows contracted against the light.
Well? she said, delivering the word like a spear-thrust, with the full weight of a body behind it.
Ive brought Harvey back at last, I replied. Here he is.
But it was at me she looked, not at the dog who had cast himself at her feetlooked as though she would have fished my soul out of my breast on the instant.
Whawhat did you think of him? What did you make of him? she panted. I was too taken aback for the moment to reply. Her voice broke as she stooped to the dog at her knees. O Harvey, Harvey! You utterly worthless old devil! she cried, and the dog cringed and abased himself in servility that one could scarcely bear to look upon. I made to go.
Oh, but please, you mustnt! She tugged at the cars side. Wouldnt you like some flowers or some orchids? Weve really splendid orchids, andshe clasped her handsthere are Japanese goldfishreal Japanese goldfish, with four tails. If you dont care for em, perhaps your friends or somebodyoh, please!
Harvey had recovered himself, and I realised that this woman beyond the decencies was fawning on me as the dog had fawned on her.
Certainly, I said, ashamed to meet her eye. Im lunching at Mittleham, but
Theres plenty of time, she entreated. What do you think of Harvey?
Hes a queer beast, I said, getting out. He does nothing but stare at me.
Does he stare at you all the time hes with you?
Always. Hes doing it now. Look!
We had halted. Harvey had sat down, and was staring from one to the other with a weaving motion of the head.
Hell do that all day, I said. What is it, Harvey?
Yes, what is it, Harvey? she echoed. The dogs throat twitched, his body stiffened and shook as though he were going to have a fit. Then he came back with a visible wrench to his unwinking watch.
Always so? she whispered.
Always, I replied, and told her something of his life with me. She nodded once or twice, and in the end led me into the house.
There were unaging pitch-pine doors of Gothic design in it; there were inlaid marble mantel-pieces and cut-steel fenders; there were stupendous wall-papers, and octagonal, medallioned Wedgewood what-nots, and black-and-gilt Austrian images holding candelabra, with every other refinement that Art had achieved or wealth had bought between 1851 and 1878. And everything reeked of varnish.
Now! she opened a baize door, and pointed down a long corridor flanked with more Gothic doors. This was where we used toto patch em up. Youve heard of us. Mrs. Godfrey told you in the garden the day I got Harvey given me. Ishe drew in her breathI live here by myself, and I have a very large income. Come back, Harvey.
He had tiptoed down the corridor, as rigid as ever, and was sitting outside one of the shut doors. Look here! she said, and planted herself squarely in front of me. I tell you this because youyouve patched up Harvey, too. Now, I want you to remember that my name is Moira. Mother calls me Marjorie because its more refined; but my real name is Moira, and I am in my thirty-fourth year.
Very good, I said. Ill remember all that.
Thank you. Then with a sudden swoop into the humility of an abashed boySorry if I havent said the proper things. You seetheres Harvey looking at us again. Oh, I want to sayif ever you want anything in the way of orchids or goldfish oror anything else that would be useful to you, youve only to come to me for it. Under the will Im perfectly independent, and were a long-lived family, worse luck! She looked at me, and her face worked like glass behind driven flame. I may reasonably expect to live another fifty years, she said.
Thank you, Miss Sichliffe, I replied. If I want anything, you may be sure Ill come to you for it. She nodded. Now I must get over to Mittleham, I said.
Mr. Attley will ask you all about this. For the first time she laughed aloud. Im afraid I frightened him nearly out of the county. I didnt think, of coarse. But I dare say he knows by this time he was wrong. Say good-bye to Harvey.
Good-bye, old man, I said. Give me a farewell stare, so we shall know each other when we meet again.
The dog looked up, then moved slowly toward me, and stood, head bowed to the floor, shaking in every muscle as I patted him; and when I turned, I saw him crawl back to her feet.
That was not a good preparation for the rampant boy-and-girl-dominated lunch at Mittleham, which, as usual, I found in possession of everybody except the owner.
But what did the dromedary say when you brought her beast back? Attley demanded.
The usual polite things, I replied. Im posing as the nice doggy friend nowadays.
I dont envy you. Shes never darkened my doors, thank goodness, since I left Harvey at your place. I suppose shell run about the county now swearing you cured him. Thats a womans idea of gratitude. Attley seemed rather hurt, and Mrs. Godfrey laughed.
That proves you were right about Miss Sichliffe, Ella, I said. She had no designs on anybody.
Im always right in these matters. But didnt she even offer you a goldfish?
Not a thing, said I. You know what an old maids like where her precious dogs concerned. And though I have tried vainly to lie to Ella Godfrey for many years, I believe that in this case I succeeded.
When I turned into our drive that evening, Leggatt observed half aloud
Im glad Zvengalis back where he belongs. Its time our Mike had a look in.
Sure enough, there was Malachi back again in spirit as well as flesh, but still with that odd air of expectation he had picked up from Harvey.
Within seventeen hours I had got them all aboard the Cape boat, and had seen the women safely collapsed into sea-sickness. The next few weeks were for me, as for the invalids, a low delirium, clouded with fantastic memories of Portuguese officials trying to tax calves-foot jelly; voluble doctors insisting that true typhoid was unknown in the island; nurses who had to be exercised, taken out of themselves, and returned on the tick of change of guard; night slides down glassy, cobbled streets, smelling of sewage and flowers, between walls whose every stone and patch Attley and I knew; vigils in stucco verandahs, watching the curve and descent of great stars or drawing auguries from the break of dawn; insane interludes of gambling at the local Casino, where we won heaps of unconsoling silver; blasts of steamers arriving and departing in the roads; help offered by total strangers, grabbed at or thrust aside; the long nightmare crumbling back into sanity one forenoon under a vine-covered trellis, where Attley sat hugging a nurse, while the others danced a noiseless, neat-footed breakdown never learned at the Middlesex Hospital. At last, as the tension came out all over us in aches and tingles that we put down to the country wine, a vision of Mrs. Godfrey, her grey hair turned to spun-glass, but her eyes triumphant over the shadow of retreating death beneath them, with Milly, enormously grown, and clutching life back to her young breast, both stretched out on cane chairs, clamouring for food.
In this ungirt hour there imported himself into our life a youngish-looking middle-aged man of the name of Shend, with a blurred face and deprecating eyes. He said he had gambled with me at the Casino, which was no recommendation, and I remember that he twice gave me a basket of champagne and liqueur brandy for the invalids, which a sailor in a red-tasselled cap carried up to the cottage for me at 3 a.m. He turned out to be the son of some merchant prince in the oil and colour line, and the owner of a four-hundred-ton steam yacht, into which, at his gentle insistence, we later shifted our camp, staff, and equipage, Milly weeping with delight to escape from the horrible cottage. There we lay off Funchal for weeks, while Shend did miracles of luxury and attendance through deputies, and never once asked how his guests were enjoying themselves. Indeed, for several days at a time we would see nothing of him. He was, he said, subject to malaria. Giving as they do with both hands, I knew that Attley and Mrs. Godfrey could take nobly; but I never met a man who so nobly gave and so nobly received thanks as Shend did.
Tell us why you have been so unbelievably kind to us gipsies, Mrs. Godfrey said to him one day on deck.
He looked up from a diagram of some Thames-mouth shoals which he was explaining to me, and answered with his gentle smile
I will. Its because it makes me happyit makes me more than happyto be with you. It makes me comfortable. You know how selfish men are? If a man feels comfortable all over with certain people, hell bore them to death, just like a dog. You always make me feel as if pleasant things were going to happen to me.
Havent any ever happened before? Milly asked.
This is the most pleasant thing that has happened to me in ever so many years, he replied. I feel like the man in the Bible, Its good for me to be here. Generally, I dont feel that its good for me to be anywhere in particular. Then, as one begging a favour. Youll let me come home with youin the same boat, I mean? Id take you back in this thing of mine, and that would save you packing your trunks, but shes too lively for spring work across the Bay.
We booked our berths, and when the time came, he wafted us and ours aboard the Southampton mail-boat with the pomp of plenipotentiaries and the precision of the Navy. Then he dismissed his yacht, and became an inconspicuous passenger in a cabin opposite to mine, on the port side.
We ran at once into early British spring weather, followed by souwest gales. Mrs. Godfrey, Milly, and the nurses disappeared. Attley stood it out, visibly yellowing, till the next meal, and followed suit, and Shend and I had the little table all to ourselves. I found him even more attractive when the women were away. The natural sweetness of the man, his voice, and bearing all fascinated me, and his knowledge of practical seamanship (he held an extra masters certificate) was a real joy. We sat long in the empty saloon and longer in the smoking-room, making dashes downstairs over slippery decks at the eleventh hour.
It was on Friday night, just as I was going to bed, that he came into my cabin, after cleaning his teeth, which he did half a dozen times a day.
I say, he began hurriedly, do you mind if I come in here for a little? Im a bit edgy. I must have shown surprise. Im ever so much better about liquor than I used to be, butits the whisky in the suitcase that throws me. For Gods sake, old man, dont go back on me to-night! Look at my hands!
They were fairly jumping at the wrists. He sat down on a trunk that had slid out with the roll. We had reduced speed, and were surging in confused seas that pounded on the black port-glasses. The night promised to be a pleasant one!
You understand, of course, dont you? he chattered.
Oh yes, I said cheerily; but how about
No, no; on no account the doctor. Tell a doctor, tell the whole ship. Besides, Ive only got a touch of em. Youd never have guessed it, would you? The tooth-wash does the trick. Ill give you the prescription.
Ill send a note to the doctor for a prescription, shall I? I suggested.
Right! I put myself unreservedly in your hands. Fact is, I always did. I said to myselfsure I dont bore you?the minute I saw you, I said, Thou art the man. He repeated the phrase as he picked at his knees. All the same, you can take it from me that the ewe-lamb business is a rotten bad one. I dont care how unfaithful the shepherd may be. Drunk or sober, tisnt cricket.
A surge of the trunk threw him across the cabin as the steward answered my bell. I wrote my requisition to the doctor while Shend was struggling to his feet.
Whats wrong? he began. Oh, I know. Were slowing for soundings off Ushant. Its about time, too. Youd better ship the dead-lights when you come back, Matchem. Itll save you waking us later. This seas going to get up when the tide turns. Thatll show you, he said as the man left, that I am to be trusted. Youyoull stop me if I say anything I shouldnt, wont you?
Talk away, I replied, if it makes you feel better.
Thats it; youve hit it exactly. You always make me feel better. I can rely on you. Its awkward soundings but youll see me through it. Well defeat him yet . . . . I may be an utterly worthless devil, but Im not a brawler . . . . I told him so at breakfast. I said, Doctor, I detest brawling, but if ever you allow that girl to be insulted again as Clements insulted her, I will break your neck with my own hands. You think I was right?
Absolutely, I agreed.
Then we neednt discuss the matter any further. That man was a murderer in intentionoutside the law, you understand, as it was then. Theyve changed it sincebut he never deceived me. I told him so. I said to him at the time, I dont know what price youre going to put on my head, but if ever you allow Clements to insult her again, youll never live to claim it.
And what did he do? I asked, to carry on the conversation, for Matchem entered with the bromide.
Oh, crumpled up at once. Lead still going, Matchem?
I avent eard, said that faithful servant of the Union-Castle Company.
Quite right. Never alarm the passengers. Ship the dead-light, will you? Matchem shipped it, for we were rolling very heavily. There were tramplings and gull-like cries from on deck. Shend looked at me with a mariners eye.
Thats nothing, he said protectingly.
Oh, its all right for you, I said, jumping at the idea. I havent an extra masters certificate. Im only a passenger. I confess it funks me.
Instantly his whole bearing changed to answer the appeal.
My dear fellow, its as simple as houses. Were hunting for sixty-five fathom water. Anything short of sixty, with a souwest wind meansbut Ill get my Channel Pilot out of my cabin and give you the general idea. Im only too grateful to do anything to put your mind at ease.
And so, perhaps, for another hourhe declined the drinkChannel Pilot in hand, he navigated us round Ushant, and at my request up-channel to Southampton, light by light, with explanations and reminiscences. I professed myself soothed at last, and suggested bed.
In a second, said he. Now, you wouldnt think, would youhe glanced off the book toward my wildly swaying dressing-gown on the doorthat Ive been seeing things for the last half-hour? Fact is, Im just on the edge of em, skating on thin ice round the cornernoreast as near as nothingwhere that dogs looking at me.
Whats the dog like? I asked.
Ah, that is comforting of you! Most men walk through em to show me they arent real. As if I didnt know! But youre different. Anybody could see that with half an eye. He stiffened and pointed. Damn it all! The dog sees it too with half an Why, he knows you! Knows you perfectly. Dyou know him?
How can I tell if he isnt real? Insisted.
But you can! Youre all right. I saw that from the first. Dont go back on me now or I shall go to pieces like the Drummond Castle. I beg your pardon, old man; but, you see, you do know the dog. Ill prove it. Whats that dog doing? Come on! You know. A tremor shook him, and he put his hand on my knee, and whispered with great meaning: Ill letter or halve it with you. There! You begin.
S, said I to humour him, for a dog would most likely be standing or sitting, or may be scratching or sniffing or staring.
Q, he went on, and I could feel the heat of his shaking hand.
U, said I. There was no other letter possible; but I was shaking too.
I
N.
T-i-n-g, he ran out. There! That proves it. I knew you knew him. You dont know what a relief that is. Between ourselves, old man, hehes been turning up lately aa damn sight more often than I cared for. And a squinting doga dog that squints! I mean thats a bit too much. Eh? What? He gulped and half rose, and I thought that the full tide of delirium would be on him in another sentence.
Not a bit of it, I said as a last chance, with my hand over the bellpush. Why, youve just proved that I know him; so there are two of us in the game, anyhow.
By Jove! that is an idea! Of course there are. I knew youd see me through. Well defeat them yet. Hi, pup! . . . Hes gone. Absolutely disappeared! He sighed with relief, and I caught the lucky moment.
Good business! I expect he only came to have a look at me, I said. Now, get this drink down and turn in to the lower bunk.
He obeyed, protesting that he could not inconvenience me, and in the midst of apologies sank into a dead sleep. I expected a wakeful night, having a certain amount to think over; but no sooner had I scrambled into the top-bunk than sleep came on me like a wave from the other side of the world.
In the morning there were apologies, which we got over at breakfast before our party were about.
I supposeafter thiswell, I dont blame you. Im rather a lonely chap, though. His eyes lifted dog-like across the table.
Shend, I replied, Im not running a Sunday school. Youre coming home with me in my car as soon as we land.
That is kind of youkinder than you think.
Thats because youre a little jumpy still. Now, I dont want to mix up in your private affairs
But Id like you to, he interrupted.
Then, would you mind telling me the Christian name of a girl who was insulted by a man called Clements?
Moira, he whispered; and just then Mrs. Godfrey and Milly came to table with their shoregoing hats on.
We did not tie up till noon, but the faithful Leggatt had intrigued his way down to the dock-edge, and beside him sat Malachi, wearing his collar of gold, or Leggatt makes it look so, as eloquent as Demosthenes. Shend flinched a little when he saw him. We packed Mrs. Godfrey and Milly into Attleys carthey were going with him to Mittleham, of courseand drew clear across the railway lines to find England all lit and perfumed for spring. Shend sighed with happiness.
Dyou know, he said, ifif youd chucked meI should have gone down to my cabin after breakfast and cut my throat. And nowits like a dreama good dream, you know.
We lunched with the other three at Romsey. Then I sat in front for a little while to talk to my Malachi. When I looked back, Shend was solidly asleep, and stayed so for the next two hours, while Leggatt chased Attleys fat Daimler along the green-speckled hedges. He woke up when we said good-bye at Mittleham, with promises to meet again very soon.
And I hope, said Mrs. Godfrey, that everything pleasant will happen to you.
Heaps and heapsall at once, cried long, weak Milly, waving her wet handkerchief.
Ive just got to look in at a house near here for a minute to inquire about a dog, I said, and then we will go home.
I used to know this part of the world, he replied, and said no more till Leggatt shot past the lodge at the Sichliffess gate. Then I heard him gasp.
Miss Sichliffe, in a green waterproof, an orange jersey, and a pinkish leather hat, was working on a bulb-border. She straightened herself as the car stopped, and breathed hard. Shend got out and walked towards her. They shook hands, turned round together, and went into the house. Then the dog Harvey pranced out corkily from under the lee of a bench. Malachi, with one joyous swoop, fell on him as an enemy and an equal. Harvey, for his part, freed from all burden whatsoever except the obvious duty of a man-dog on his own ground, met Malachi without reserve or remorse, and with six months additional growth to come and go on.
Dont check em! cried Leggatt, dancing round the flurry. Theyve both been saving up for each other all this time. Itll do em worlds of good.
Leggatt, I said, will you take Mr. Shends bag and suitcase up to the house and put them down just inside the door? Then we will go on.
So I enjoyed the finish alone. It was a dead heat, and they licked each others jaws in amity till Harvey, one imploring eye on me, leaped into the front seat, and Malachi backed his appeal. It was theft, but I took him, and we talked all the way home of r-rats and r-rabbits and bones and baths and the other basic facts of life. That evening after dinner they slept before the fire, with their warm chins across the hollows of my anklesto each chin an ankletill I kicked them upstairs to bed.
I was not at Mittleham when she came over to announce her engagement, but I heard of it when Mrs. Godfrey and Attley came, forty miles an hour, over to me, and Mrs. Godfrey called me names of the worst for suppression of information.
As long as it wasnt me, I dont care, said Attley.
I believe you knew it all along, Mrs. Godfrey repeated. Else what made you drive that man literally into her arms?
To ask after the dog Harvey, I replied.
Then, whats the beast doing here? Attley demanded, for Malachi and the dog Harvey were deep in a council of the family with Bettina, who was being out-argued.
Oh, Harvey seemed to think himself de trop where he was, I said. And she hasnt sent after him. Youd better save Bettina before they kill her.
Theres been enough lying about that dog, said Mrs. Godfrey to me. If he wasnt born in lies, he was baptized in em. Dyou know why she called him Harvey? It only occurred to me in those dreadful days when I was ill, and one cant keep from thinking, and thinks everything. Dyou know your Boswell? What did Johnson say about Herveywith an e?
Oh, thats it, is it? I cried incautiously. That was why I ought to have verified my quotations. The spelling defeated me. Wait a moment, and it will come back. Johnson said He was a vicious man, I began.
But very kind to me, Mrs. Godfrey prompted. Then, both together, If you call a dog Hervey, I shall love him.
So you were mixed up in it. At any rate, you had your suspicions from the first? Tell me, she said.
Ella, I said, I dont know anything rational or reasonable about any of it. It was allall woman-work, and it scared me horribly.
Why? she asked.
That was six years ago. I have written this tale to let her knowwherever she may be.
UNTIL thy feet have trod the Road Advise not wayside folk, Nor till thy back has borne the Load Break in upon the broke.
Chase not with undesired largesse
Employ not that glad hand to raise
The quivering chin, the bitten lip,
Time, not thy neer so timely speech,
Or, if impelled to interfere,
Only the Lord can understand
Een from good words thyself refrain,
So, when thine own dark hour shall fall, |
Youll find it rather a knackers yard, Woodhouse was saying. Yes, I know they call me The Knacker; but it will pay inside a year. All my papers do. Ive only one motto: Back your luck and back your staff. Itll come out all right.
Then the car stopped, and a policeman asked our names and addresses for exceeding the speed-limit. We pointed out that the road ran absolutely straight for half a mile ahead without even a sidelane. Thats just what we depend on, said the policeman unpleasantly.
The usual swindle, said Woodhouse under his breath Whats the name of this place?
Huckley,said the policeman. H-u-c-k-l-e-y, and wrote something in his note-book at which young Ollyett protested. A large red man on a grey horse who had been watching us from the other side of the hedge shouted an order we could not catch. The policeman laid his hand on the rim of the right driving-door (Woodhouse carries his spare tyres aft), and it closed on the button of the electric horn. The grey horse at once bolted, and we could hear the rider swearing all across the landscape.
Damn it, man, youve got your silly fist on it! Take it off! Woodhouse shouted.
Ho! said the constable, looking carefully at his fingers as though we had trapped them. That wont do you any good either, and he wrote once more in his note-book before he allowed us to go.
This was Woodhouses first brush with motor law, and since I expected no ill consequences to myself, I pointed out that it was very serious. I took the same view myself when in due time I found that I, too, was summonsed on charges ranging from the use of obscene language to endangering traffic.
Judgment was done in a little pale-yellow market-town with a small, jubilee clock-tower and a large corn-exchange. Woodhouse drove us there in his car. Pallant, who had not been included in the summons, came with us as moral support. While we waited outside, the fat man on the grey horse rode up and entered into loud talk with his brother magistrates. He said to one of themfor I took the trouble to note it downIt falls away from my lodge-gates, dead straight, three-quarters of a mile. Id defy any one to resist it. We rooked seventy pounds out of em last month. No car can resist the temptation. You ought to have one your side the county, Mike. They simply cant resist it.
Whew! said Woodhouse. Were in for trouble. Dont you say a wordor Ollyett either! Ill pay the fines and well get it over as soon as possible. Wheres Pallant?
At the back of the court somewhere, said Ollyett. I saw him slip in just now.
The fat man then took his seat on the Bench, of which he was chairman, and I gathered from a bystander that his name was Sir Thomas Ingell, Bart., M.P., of Ingell Park, Huckley. He began with an allocution pitched in a tone that would have justified revolt throughout empires. Evidence, when the crowded little court did not drown it with applause, was given in the pauses of the address. They were all very proud of their Sir Thomas, and looked from him to us, wondering why we did not applaud too.
Taking its time from the chairman, the Bench rollicked with us for seventeen minutes. Sir Thomas explained that he was sick and tired of processions of cads of our type, who would be better employed breaking stones on the road than in frightening horses worth more than themselves or their ancestors. This was after it had been proved that Woodhouses man had turned on the horn purposely to annoy Sir Thomas, who happened to be riding by! There were other remarks tooprimitive enough,but it was the unspeakable brutality of the tone, even more than the quality of the justice, or the laughter of the audience that stung our souls out of all reason. When we were dismissedto the tune of twenty-three pounds, twelve shillings and sixpencewe waited for Pallant to join us, while we listened to the next caseone of driving without a licence. Ollyett with an eye to his evening paper, had already taken very full notes of our own, but we did not wish to seem prejudiced.
Its all right, said the reporter of the local paper soothingly. We never report Sir Thomas in extenso. Only the fines and charges.
Oh, thank you, Ollyett replied, and I heard him ask who every one in court might be. The local reporter was very communicative.
The new victim, a large, flaxen-haired man in somewhat striking clothes, to which Sir Thomas, now thoroughly warmed, drew public attention, said that he had left his licence at home. Sir Thomas asked him if he expected the police to go to his home address at Jerusalem to find it for him; and the court roared. Nor did Sir Thomas approve of the mans name, but insisted on calling him Mr. Masquerader, and every time he did so, all his people shouted. Evidently this was their established auto-da fé.
He didnt summons mebecause Im in the House, I suppose. I think I shall have to ask a Question, said Pallant, reappearing at the close of the case.
I think I shall have to give it a little publicity too, said Woodhouse. We cant have this kind of thing going on, you know. His face was set and quite white. Pallants, on the other hand, was black, and I know that my very stomach had turned with rage. Ollyett was dumb.
Well, lets have lunch, Woodhouse said at last. Then we can get away before the show breaks up.
We drew Ollyett from the arms of the local reporter, crossed the Market Square to the Red Lion and found Sir Thomass Mr. Masquerader just sitting down to beer, beef and pickles.
Ah! said he, in a large voice. Companions in misfortune. Wont you gentlemen join me?
Delighted, said Woodhouse. What did you get?
I havent decided. It might make a good turn, butthe public arent educated up to it yet. Its beyond em. If it wasnt, that red dub on the Bench would be worth fifty a week.
Where? said Woodhouse. The man looked at him with unaffected surprise.
At any one of My places, he replied. But perhaps you live here?
Good heavens! cried young Ollyett suddenly. You are Masquerier, then? I thought you were!
Bat Masquerier. He let the words fall with the weight of an international ultimatum. Yes, thats all I am. But you have the advantage of me, gentlemen.
For the moment, while we were introducing ourselves, I was puzzled. Then I recalled prismatic music-hall postersof enormous acreagethat had been the unnoticed background of my visits to London for years past. Posters of men and women, singers, jongleurs, impersonators and audacities of every draped and undraped brand, all moved on and off in London and the Provinces by Bat Masquerierwith the long wedge-tailed flourish following the final r.
I knew you at once, said Pallant, the trained M.P., and I promptly backed the lie. Woodhouse mumbled excuses. Bat Masquerier was not moved for or against us any more than the frontage of one of his own palaces.
I always tell My people theres a limit to the size of the lettering, he said. Overdo that and the retna doesnt take it in. Advertisin is the most delicate of all the sciences.
Theres one man in the world who is going to get a little of it if I live for the next twenty-four hours, said Woodhouse, and explained how this would come about.
Masquerier stared at him lengthily with gunmetal-blue eyes.
You mean it? he drawled; the voice was as magnetic as the look.
I do, said Ollyett. That business of the horn alone ought to have him off the Bench in three months. Masquerier looked at him even longer than he had looked at Woodhouse.
He told me, he said suddenly, that my home-address was Jerusalem. You heard that?
But it was the tone-the tone, Ollyett cried.
You noticed that, too, did you? said Masquerier. Thats the artistic temperament. You can do a lot with it. And Im Bat Masquerier, he went on. He dropped his chin in his fists and scowled straight in front of him . . . . I made the SilhouettesI made the Trefoil and the Jocunda. I made Dal Benzaguen. Here Ollyett sat straight up, for in common with the youth of that year he worshipped Miss Vidal Benzaguen of the Trefoil immensely and unreservedly. Is that a dressing-gown or an ulster youre supposed to be wearing? You heard that? . . . And I suppose you hadnt time to brush your hair either? You heard that? . . . Now, you hear me! His voice filled the coffeeroom, then dropped to a whisper as dreadful as a surgeons before an operation. He spoke for several minutes. Pallant muttered Hear! hear! I saw Ollyetts eye flashit was to Ollyett that Masquerier addressed himself chiefly,and Woodhouse leaned forward with joined hands.
Are you with me? he went on, gathering us all up in one sweep of the arm. When I begin a thing I see it through, gentlemen. What Bat cant break, breaks him! But I havent struck that thing yet. This is no one-turn turn-it-down show. This is business to the dead finish. Are you with me, gentlemen? Good! Now, well pool our assets. One London morning, and one provincial daily, didnt you say? One weekly commercial ditto and one M.P.
Not much use, Im afraid, Pallant smirked.
But privileged. But privileged, he returned. And we have also my little teamLondon, Blackburn, Liverpool, LeedsIll tell you about Manchester laterand Me! Bat Masquerier. He breathed the name reverently into his tankard. Gentlemen, when our combination has finished with Sir Thomas Ingell, Bart., M.P., and everything else that is his, Sodom and Gomorrah will be a winsome bit of Merrie England beside em. I must go back to town now, but I trust you gentlemen will give me the pleasure of your company at dinner to-night at the Chop Sueythe Red Amber Roomand well block out the scenario. He laid his hand on young Ollyetts shoulder and added: Its your brains I want.
Then he left, in a good deal of astrachan collar and nickel-plated limousine, and the place felt less crowded.
We ordered our car a few minutes later. As Woodhouse, Ollyett and I were getting in, Sir Thomas Ingell, Bart., M.P., came out of the Hall of justice across the square and mounted his horse. I have sometimes thought that if he had gone in silence he might even then have been saved, but as he settled himself in the saddle he caught sight of us and must needs shout: Not off yet? Youd better get away and youd better be careful. At that moment Pallant, who had been buying picture-postcards, came out of the inn, took Sir Thomass eye and very leisurely entered the car. It seemed to me that for one instant there was a shade of uneasiness on the baronets grey-whiskered face.
I hope, said Woodhouse after several miles, I hope hes a widower.
Yes, said Pallant. For his poor, dear wifes sake I hope that, very much indeed. I suppose he didnt see me in Court. Oh, heres the parish history of Huckley written by the Rector and heres your share of the picture-postcards. Are we all dining with this Mr. Masquerier to-night?
Yes! said we all.
But we did not neglect Huckley. As Ollyett said our first care was to create an arresting atmosphere round it. He used to visit the village of week-ends, on a motor-bicycle with a side-car; for which reason I left the actual place alone and dealt with it in the abstract. Yet it was I who drew first blood. Two inhabitants of Huckley wrote to contradict a small, quite solid paragraph in The Bun that a hoopoe had been seen at Huckley and had, of course, been shot by the local sportsmen. There was some heat in their letters, both of which we published. Our version of how the hoopoe got his crest from King Solomon was, I grieve to say, so inaccurate that the Rector himselfno sportsman as he pointed out, but a lover of accuracywrote to us to correct it. We gave his letter good space and thanked him.
This priest is going to be useful, said Ollyett. He has the impartial mind. I shall vitalise him.
Forthwith he created M.L. Sigden, a recluse of refined tastes who in The Bun demanded to know whether this Huckley-of-the-Hoopoe was the Hugly of his boyhood and whether, by any chance, the fell change of name had been wrought by collusion between a local magnate and the railway, in the mistaken interests of spurious refinement. For I knew it and loved it with the maidens of my dayeheu ab angulo!as Hugly, wrote M.L. Sigden from Oxford.
Though other papers scoffed, The Bun was gravely sympathetic. Several people wrote to deny that Huckley had been changed at birth. Only the Rectorno philosopher as he pointed out, but a lover of accuracyhad his doubts, which he laid publicly before Mr. M.L. Sigden, who suggested, through The Bun, that the little place might have begun life in Anglo-Saxon days as Hogslea or among the Normans as Argilé, on account of its much clay. The Rector had his own ideas too (he said it was mostly gravel), and M.L. Sigden had a fund of reminiscences. Oddly enoughwhich is seldom the case with free reading-matterour subscribers rather relished the correspondence, and contemporaries quoted freely.
The secret of power, said Ollyett, Is not the big stick. Its the liftable stick. (This means the arresting quotation of six or seven lines.) Did you see the Spec. had a middle on Rural Tenacities last week. That was all Huckley. Im doing a Mobiquity on Huckley next week.
Our Mobiquities were Friday evening accounts of easy motor-bike-cum-side-car trips round London, illustrated (we could never get that machine to work properly) by smudgy maps. Ollyett wrote the stuff with a fervour and a delicacy which I always ascribed to the side-car. His account of Epping Forest, for instance, was simply young love with its soul at its lips. But his Huckley Mobiquity would have sickened a soap-boiler. It chemically combined loathsome familiarity, leering suggestion, slimy piety and rancid social service in one fuming compost that fairly lifted me off my feet.
Yes, said he, after compliments. Its the most vital, arresting and dynamic bit of tump Ive done up to date. Non nobis gloria! I met Sir Thomas Ingell in his own park. He talked to me again. He inspired most of it.
Which? The glutinous native drawl, or the neglected adenoids of the village children? I demanded.
Oh, no! Thats only to bring in the panel doctor. Its the last flight weIm proudest of.
This dealt with the crepuscular penumbra spreading her dim limbs over the boskage; with jolly rabbits; with a herd of gravid polled Angus; and with the arresting, gipsy-like face of their swart, scholarly owneras well known at the Royal Agricultural Shows as that of our late King-Emperor.
Swart is good and sos gravid, said I, but the panel doctor will be annoyed about the adenoids.
Not half as much as Sir Thomas will about his face, said Ollyett. And if you only knew what Ive left out!
He was right. The panel doctor spent his week-end (this is the advantage of Friday articles) in overwhelming us with a professional counterblast of no interest whatever to our subscribers. We told him so, and he, then and there, battered his way with it into the Lancet where they are keen on glands, and forgot us altogether. But Sir Thomas Ingell was of sterner stuff. He must have spent a happy week-end too. The letter which we received from him on Monday proved him to be a kinless loon of upright life, for no woman, however remotely interested in a man would have let it pass the home wastepaper-basket. He objected to our references to his own herd, to his own labours in his own village, which he said was a Model Village, and to our infernal insolence; but he objected most to our invoice of his features. We wrote him courteously to ask whether the letter was meant for publication. He, remembering, I presume, the Duke of Wellington, wrote back, publish and be damned.
Oh! This is too easy, Ollyett said as he began heading the letter.
Stop a minute, I said. The game is getting a little beyond us. To-nights the Bat dinner. (I may have forgotten to tell you that our dinner with Bat Masquerier in the Red Amber Room of the Chop Suey had come to be a weekly affair.)
Hold it over till theyve all seen it.
Per haps youre right, he said. You might waste it.
At dinner, then, Sir Thomass letter was handed round. Bat seemed to be thinking of other matters, but Pallant was very interested.
Ive got an idea, he said presently. Could you put something into The Bun to-morrow about foot-and-mouth disease in that fellows herd?
Oh, plague if you like, Ollyett replied. Theyre only five measly Shorthorns. I saw one lying down in the park. Shell serve as a substratum of fact.
Then, do that; and hold the letter over meanwhile. I think I come in here, said Pallant.
Why? said I.
Because theres something coming up in the House about foot-and-mouth, and because he wrote me a letter after that little affair when he fined you. Took ten days to think it over. Here you are, said Pallant. House of Commons paper, you see.
We read
DEAR PALLANTAlthough in the past our paths have not lain much together, I am sure you will agree with me that on the floor of the House all members are on a footing of equality. I make bold, therefore, to approach you in a matter which I think capable of a very different interpretation from that which perhaps was put upon it by your friends. Will you let them know that that was the case and that I was in no way swayed by animus in the exercise of my magisterial duties, which as you, as a brother magistrate, can imagine are frequently very distasteful toYours very sincerely,
T. INGELL.
P.S.I have seen to it that the motor vigilance to which your friends took exception has been considerably relaxed in my district. |
What did you answer? said Ollyett, when all our opinions had been expressed.
I told him I couldnt do anything in the matter. And I couldntthen. But youll remember to put in that foot-and-mouth paragraph. I want something to work upon.
It seems to me The Bun has done all the work up to date, I suggested. When does The Cake come in?
The Cake, said Woodhouse, and I remembered afterwards that he spoke like a Cabinet Minister on the eve of a Budget, reserves to itself the fullest right to deal with situations as they arise.
Ye-eh! Bat Masquerier shook himself out of his thoughts. Situations as they arise. I aint idle either. But theres no use fishing till the swims baited. Youhe turned to Ollyettmanufacture very good ground-bait . . . . I always tell My people What the deuce is that?
There was a burst of song from another private dining-room across the landing. It ees some ladies from the Trefoil, the waiter began.
Oh, I know that. What are they singing, though?
He rose and went out, to be greeted by shouts of applause from that merry company. Then there was silence, such as one hears in the form-room after a masters entry. Then a voice that we loved began again: Here we go gathering nuts in Maynuts in Maynuts in May!
Its only Daland some nuts, he explained when he returned. She says shes coming in to dessert. He sat down, humming the old tune to himself, and till Miss Vidal Benzaguen entered, he held us speechless with tales of the artistic temperament.
We obeyed Pallant to the extent of slipping into The Bun a wary paragraph about cows lying down and dripping at the mouth, which might be read either as an unkind libel or, in the hands of a capable lawyer, as a piece of faithful nature-study.
And besides, said Ollyett, we allude to gravid polled Angus. I am advised that no action can lie in respect of virgin Shorthorns. Pallant wants us to come to the House to-night. Hes got us places for the Strangers Gallery. Im beginning to like Pallant.
Masquerier seems to like you, I said.
Yes, but Im afraid of him, Ollyett answered with perfect sincerity. I am. Hes the Absolutely Amoral Soul. Ive never met one yet.
We went to the House together. It happened to be an Irish afternoon, and as soon as I had got the cries and the faces a little sorted out, I gathered there were grievances in the air, but how many of them was beyond me.
Its all right, said Ollyett of the trained ear. Theyve shut their ports againstoh yesexport of Irish cattle! Foot-and-mouth disease at Ballyhellion. I see Pallants idea!
The House was certainly all mouth for the moment, but, as I could feel, quite in earnest. A Minister with a piece of typewritten paper seemed to be fending off volleys of insults. He reminded me somehow of a nervous huntsman breaking up a fox in the face of rabid hounds.
Its question-time. Theyre asking questions, said Ollyett. Look! Pallants up.
There was no mistaking it. His voice, which his enemies said was his one parliamentary asset, silenced the hubbub as toothache silences mere singing in the ears. He said:
Arising out of that, may I ask if any special consideration has recently been shown in regard to any suspected outbreak of this disease on this side of the Channel?
He raised his hand; it held a noon edition of The Bun. We had thought it best to drop the paragraph out of the later ones. He would have continued, but something in a grey frock-coat roared and bounded on a bench opposite, and waved another Bun. It was Sir Thomas Ingell.
As the owner of the herd so dastardly implicated His voice was drowned in shouts of Order!the Irish leading.
Whats wrong? I asked Ollyett. Hes got his hat on his head, hasnt he?
Yes, but his wrath should have been put as a question.
Arising out of that, Mr. Speaker, Sirrr! Sir Thomas bellowed through a lull, are you aware thatthat all this is a conspiracypart of a dastardly conspiracy to make Huckley ridiculousto make us ridiculous? Part of a deep-laid plot to make me ridiculous, Mr. Speaker, Sir!
The mans face showed almost black against his white whiskers, and he struck out swimmingly with his arms. His vehemence puzzled and held the House for an instant, and the Speaker took advantage of it to lift his pack from Ireland to a new scent. He addressed Sir Thomas Ingell in tones of measured rebuke, meant also, I imagine, for the whole House, which lowered its hackles at the word. Then Pallant, shocked and pained: I can only express my profound surprise that in response to my simple question the honourable member should have thought fit to indulge in a personal attack. If I have in any way offended
Again the Speaker intervened, for it appeared that he regulated these matters.
He, too, expressed surprise, and Sir Thomas sat back in a hush of reprobation that seemed to have the chill of the centuries behind it. The Empires work was resumed.
Beautiful! said I, and I felt hot and cold up my back.
And now well publish his letter, said Ollyett. We didon the heels of his carefully reported outburst. We made no comment. With that rare instinct for grasping the heart of a situation which is the mark of the Anglo-Saxon, all our contemporaries and, I should say, two-thirds of our correspondents demanded how such a person could be made more ridiculous than he had already proved himself to be. But beyond spelling his name Injle, we alone refused to hit a man when he was down.
Theres no need, said Ollyett. The whole press is on the huckle from end to end.
Even Woodhouse was a little astonished at the ease with which it had come about, and said as much.
Rot! said Ollyett. We havent really begun. Huckley isnt news yet.
What do you mean? said Woodhouse, who had grown to have great respect for his young but by no means distant connection.
Mean? By the grace of God, Master Ridley, I mean to have it so that when Huckley turns over in its sleep, Reuters and the Press Association jump out of bed to cable. Then he went off at score about certain restorations in Huckley Church which, he saidand he seemed to spend his every week-end therehad been perpetrated by the Rectors predecessor, who had abolished a leper-window or a squinch-hole (whatever these may be) to institute a lavatory in the vestry. It did not strike me as stuff for which Reuters or the Press Association would lose much sleep, and I left him declaiming to Woodhouse about a fourteenth-century font which, he said, he had unearthed in the sextons tool-shed.
My methods were more on the lines of peaceful penetration. An odd copy, in The Buns rag-and-bone library, of Hones Every-Day Book had revealed to me the existence of a village dance founded, like all village dances, on Druidical mysteries connected with the Solar Solstice (which isalwaysunchallengeable) and Midsummer Morning, which is dewy and refreshing to the London eye. For this I take no creditHone being a mine any one can workbut that I rechristened that dance, after I had revised it, The Gubby is my title to immortal fame. It was still to be witnessed, I wrote, In all its poignant purity at Huckley, that last home of significant mediæval survivals; and I fell so in love with my creation that I kept it back for days, enamelling and burnishing.
Yous better put it in, said Ollyett at last. Its time we asserted ourselves again. The other fellows are beginning to poach. You saw that thing in the Pinnacle about Sir Thomass Model Village? He must have got one of their chaps down to do it.
Nothing like the wounds of a friend, I said. That account of the non-alcoholic pub alone was
I liked the bit best about the white-tiled laundry and the Fallen Virgins who wash Sir Thomass dress shirts. Our side couldnt come within a mile of that, you know. We havent the proper flair for sexual slobber.
Thats what Im always saying, I retorted. Leave em alone. The other fellows are doing our work for us now. Besides I want to touch up my Gubby Dance a little more.
No. Youll spoil it. Lets shove it in to-day. For one thing its Literature. I dont go in for compliments as you know, but, etc. etc.
I had a healthy suspicion of young Ollyett in every aspect, but though I knew that I should have to pay for it, I fell to his flattery, and my priceless article on the Gubby Dance appeared. Next Saturday he asked me to bring out The Bun in his absence, which I naturally assumed would be connected with the little maroon side-car. I was wrong.
On the following Monday I glanced at The Cake at breakfast-time to make sure, as usual, of her inferiority to my beloved but unremunerative Bun. I opened on a heading: The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat. I read . . . I read that the Geoplanarian Societya society devoted to the proposition that the earth is flathad held its Annual Banquet and Exercises at Huckley on Saturday, when after convincing addresses, amid scenes of the greatest enthusiasm, Huckley village had decided by an unanimous vote of 438 that the earth was flat. I do not remember that I breathed again till I had finished the two columns of description that followed. Only one man could have written them. They were flawless-crisp, nervous, austere yet human, poignant, vital, arrestingmost distinctly arrestingdynamic enough to shift a cityand quotable by whole sticks at a time. And there was a leader, a grave and poised leader, which tore me in two with mirth, until I remembered that I had been left outinfamously and unjustifiably dropped. I went to Ollyetts rooms. He was breakfasting, and, to do him justice, looked conscience-stricken.
It wasnt my fault, he began. It was Bat Masquerier. I swear I would have asked you to come if
Never mind that, I said. Its the best bit of work youve ever done or will do. Did any of it happen?
Happen? Heavens! Dyou think even I could have invented it?
Is it exclusive to The Cake? I cried.
It cost Bat Masquerier two thousand, Ollyett replied. Dyou think hed let any one else in on that? But I give you my sacred word I knew nothing about it till he asked me to come down and cover it. He had Huckley posted in three colours, The Geoplanarians Annual Banquet and Exercises. Yes, he invented Geoplanarians. He wanted Huckley to think it meant aeroplanes. Yes, I know that there is a real Society that thinks the worlds flatthey ought to be grateful for the liftbut Bat made his own. He did! He created the whole show, I tell you. He swept out half his Halls for the job. Think of thaton a Saturday! Theywe went down in motor char-à-bancsthree of emone pink, one primrose, and one forget-me-not-bluetwenty people in each one and The Earth is Flat on each side and across the back. I went with Teddy Rickets and Lafone from the Trefoil, and both the Silhouette Sisters, andwait a minute!the Crossleigh Trio. You know the Every-Day Dramas Trio at the JocundaAda Crossleigh, Bunt Crossleigh, and little Victorine? Them. And there was Hoke Ramsden, the lightning-change chap in Morgiana and Drexeland there was Billy Turpeen. Yes, you know him! The North London Star. Im the Referee that got himself disliked at Blackheath. That chap! And there was Mackaye-that one-eyed Scotch fellow that all Glasgow is crazy about. Talk of subordinating yourself for Arts sake! Mackaye was the earnest inquirer who got converted at the end of the meeting. And there was quite a lot of girls I didnt know, andoh, yesthere was Dal! Dal Benzaguen herself! We sat together, going and coming. Shes all the darling there ever was. She sent you her love, and she told me to tell you that she wont forget about Nellie Farren. She says youve given her an ideal to work for. She? Oh, she was the Lady Secretary to the Geoplanarians, of course. I forget who were in the other brakesprovincial stars mostlybut they played up gorgeously. The art of the music-halls changed since your day. They didnt overdo it a bit. You see, people who believe the earth is flat dont dress quite like other people. You may have noticed that I hinted at that in my account. Its a rather flat-fronted Ionic styleneo-Victorian, except for the bustles, Dal told me,but Dal looked heavenly in it! So did little Victorine. And there was a girl in the blue brakeshes a provincialbut shes coming to town this winter and shell knock emWinnie Deans. Remember that! She told Huckley how she had suffered for the Cause as a governess in a rich family where they believed that the world is round, and how she threw up her job sooner than teach immoral geography. That was at the overflow meeting outside the Baptist chapel. She knocked em to sawdust! We must look out for Winnie . . . . But Lafone! Lafone was beyond everything. Impact, personalityconvictionthe whole bag o tricks! He sweated conviction. Gad, he convinced me while he was speaking! (Him? He was President of the Geoplanarians, of course. Havent you read my account?) It is an infernally plausible theory. After all, no one has actually proved the earth is round, have they?
Never mind the earth. What about Huckley?
Oh, Huckley got tight. Thats the worst of these model villages if you let em smell fire-water. Theres one alcoholic pub in the place that Sir Thomas cant get rid of. Bat made it his base, He sent down the banquet in two motor lorriesdinner for five hundred and drinks for ten thousand. Huckley voted all right. Dont you make any mistake about that. No vote, no dinner. A unanimous voteexactly as Ive said. At least, the Rector and the Doctor were the only dissentients. We didnt count them. Oh yes, Sir Thomas was there. He came and grinned at us through his park gates. Hell grin worse to-day. Theres an aniline dye that you rub through a stencil-plate that eats about a foot into any stone and wears good to the last. Bat had both the lodge-gates stencilled The Earth is flat! and all the barns and walls they could get at . . . . Oh Lord, but Huckley was drunk! We had to fill em up to make em forgive us for not being aeroplanes. Unthankful yokels! Dyou realise that Emperors couldnt have commanded the talent Bat decanted on em? Why, Dal alone was . . . . And by eight oclock not even a bit of paper left! The whole show packed up and gone, and Huckley hoo-raying for the earth being flat.
Very good, I began. I am, as you know, a one-third proprietor of The Bun.
I didnt forget that, Ollyett interrupted. That was uppermost in my mind all the time. Ive got a special account for The Bun to-dayits an idylland just to show how I thought of you, I told Dal, coming home, about your Gubby Dance, and she told Winnie. Winnie came back in our char-à-banc. After a bit we had to get out and dance it in a field. Its quite a dance the way we did itand Lafone invented a sort of gorilla lockstep procession at the end. Bat had sent down a film-chap on the chance of getting something. He was the son of a clergymana most dynamic personality. He said there isnt anything for the cinema in meetings qua meetingsthey lack action. Films are a branch of art by themselves. But he went wild over the Gubby. He said it was like Peters vision at Joppa. He took about a million feet of it. Then I photoed it exclusive for The Bun. Ive sent em in already, only remember we must eliminate Winnies left leg in the first figure. Its too arresting . . . . And there you are! But I tell you Im afraid of Bat. That mans the Personal Devil. He did it all. He didnt even come down himself. He said hed distract his people.
Why didnt he ask me to come? I persisted.
Because he said youd distract me. He said he wanted my brains on ice. He got em. I believe its the best thing Ive ever done. He reached for The Cake and re-read it luxuriously. Yes, out and away the bestsupremely quotable, he concluded, andafter another surveyBy God, what a genius I was yesterday!
I would have been angry, but I had not the time. That morning, Press agencies grovelled to me in The Bun office for leave to use certain photos, which, they understood, I controlled, of a certain village dance. When I had sent the fifth man away on the edge of tears, my self-respect came back a little. Then there was The Buns poster to get out. Art being elimination, I fined it down to two words (one too many, as it proved)The Gubby! in red, at which our manager protested; but by five oclock he told me that I was the Napoleon of Fleet Street. Ollyetts account in The Bun of the Geoplanarians Exercises and Love Feast lacked the supreme shock of his version in The Cake, but it bruised more; while the photos of The Gubby (which, with Winnies left leg, was why I had set the doubtful press to work so early) were beyond praise and, next day, beyond price. But even then I did not understand.
A week later, I think it was, Bat Masquerier telephoned to me to come to the Trefoil.
Its your turn now, he said. Im not asking Ollyett. Come to the stage-box.
I went, and, as Bats guest, was received as Royalty is not. We sat well back and looked out on the packed thousands. It was Morgiana and Drexel, that fluid and electric review which Batthough he gave Lafone the creditreally created.
Ye-es, said Bat dreamily, after Morgiana had given the nasty jar to the Forty Thieves in their forty oil combinations. As you say, Ive got em and I can hold em. What a man does doesnt matter much; and how he does it dont matter either. Its the whenthe psychological moment. Press cant make up for it; money cant; brains cant. A lots luck, but all the rest is genius. Im not speaking about My people now. Im talking of Myself.
Then Dalshe was the only one who daredknocked at the door and stood behind us all alive and panting as Morgiana. Lafone was carrying the police-court scene, and the house was ripped up crossways with laughter.
Ah! Tell a fellow now, she asked me for the twentieth time, did you love Nellie Farren when you were young?
Did we love her? I answered. If the earth and the sky and the seaThere were three million of us, Dal, and we worshipped her.
How did she get it across? Dal went on.
She was Nellie. The houses used to coo over her when she came on.
Ive had a good deal, but Ive never been cooed over yet, said Dal wistfully.
It isnt the how, its the when, Bat repeated. Ah!
He leaned forward as the house began to rock and peal full-throatedly. Dal fled. A sinuous and silent procession was filing into the police-court to a scarcely audible accompaniment. It was dressedbut the world and all its picture-palaces know how it was dressed. It danced and it danced, and it danced the dance which bit all humanity in the leg for half a year, and it wound up with the lockstep finale that mowed the house down in swathes, sobbing and aching. Somebody in the gallery moaned, Oh Gord, the Gubby! and we heard the word run like a shudder, for they had not a full breath left among them. Then Dal came on, an electric star in her dark hair, the diamonds flashing in her three-inch heelsa vision that made no sign for thirty counted seconds while the police-court scene dissolved behind her into Morgianas Manicure Palace, and they recovered themselves. The star on her forehead went out, and a soft light bathed her as she tookslowly, slowly to the croon of adoring stringsthe eighteen paces forward. We saw her first as a queen alone; next as a queen for the first time conscious of her subjects, and at the end, when her hands fluttered, as a woman delighted, awed not a little, but transfigured and illuminated with sheer, compelling affection and goodwill. I caught the broken mutter of welcomethe coo which is more than tornadoes of applause. It died and rose and died again lovingly.
Shes got it across, Bat whispered. Ive never seen her like this. I told her to light up the star, but I was wrong, and she knew it. Shes an artist.
Dal, you darling! some one spoke, not loudly but it carried through the house.
Thank you! Dal answered, and in that broken tone one heard the last fetter riveted. Good evening, boys! Ive just come fromnowwhere the dooce was it I have come from? She turned to the impassive files of the Gubby dancers, and went on: Ah, so good of you to remind me, you dear, bun-faced things. Ive just come from the villageThe Village that Voted the Earth was Flat.
She swept into that song with the full orchestra. It devastated the habitable earth for the next six months. Imagine, then, what its rage and pulse must have been at the incandescent hour of its birth! She only gave the chorus once. At the end of the second verse, Are you with me, boys? she cried, and the house tore it clean away from herEarth was flatEarth was flat. Flat as my hatFlatter than thatdrowning all but the bassoons and double-basses that marked the word.
Wonderful, I said to Bat. And its only Nuts in May with variations.
Yesbut I did the variations, he replied.
At the last verse she gestured to Carlini the conductor, who threw her up his baton. She caught it with a boys ease. Are you with me? she cried once more, andthe maddened house behind herabolished all the instruments except the guttural belch of the double-basses on EarthThe Village that voted the Earth was flatEarth was flat! It was delirium. Then she picked up the Gubby dancers and led them in a clattering improvised lockstep thrice round the stage till her last kick sent her diamond-hilted shoe Catherine-wheeling to the electrolier.
I saw the forest of hands raised to catch it, heard the roaring and stamping pass through hurricanes to full typhoon; heard the song, pinned down by the faithful double-basses as the bull-dog pins down the bellowing bull, overbear even those; till at last the curtain fell and Bat took me round to her dressing-room, where she lay spent after her seventh call. Still the song, through all those white-washed walls, shook the reinforced concrete of the Trefoil as steam pile-drivers shake the flanks of a dock.
Im all outfirst time in my life. Ah! Tell a fellow now, did I get it across? she whispered huskily.
You know you did, I replied as she dipped her nose deep in a beaker of barley-water. They cooed over you.
Bat nodded. And poor Nellies deadin Africa, aint it?
I hope Ill die before they stop cooing, said Dal.
Earth was flatEarth was flat! Now it was more like mine-pumps in flood.
Theyll have the house down if you dont take another, some one called.
Bless em! said Dal, and went out for her eighth, when in the face of that cataract she said yawning, I dont know how you feel, children, but Im dead. You be quiet.
Hold a minute, said Bat tome. Ive got to hear how it went in the provinces. Winnie Deans had it in Manchester, and Ramsden at Glasgowand there are all the films too. I had rather a heavy week-end.
The telephones presently reassured him.
Itll do, said he. And he said my home address was Jerusalem. He left me humming the refrain of The Holy City. Like Ollyett I found myself afraid of that man.
When I got out into the street and met the disgorging picture-palaces capering on the pavements and humming it (for he had put the gramophones on with the films), and when I saw far to the south the red electrics flash Gubby across the Thames, I feared more than ever.
Ours is, after all, a kindly earth. While The Song ran and raped it with the cataleptic kick of Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay, multiplied by the West African significance of Everybodys doing it, plus twice the infernal elementality of a certain tune in Dona et Gamma; when for all practical purposes, literary, dramatic, artistic, social, municipal, political, commercial, and administrative, the Earth was flat, the Rector of Huckley wrote to usagain as a lover of accuracyto point out that the Huckley vote on the alleged flatness of this scene of our labours here below was not unanimous; he and the doctor having voted against it. And the great Baron Reuter himself (I am sure it could have been none other) flashed that letter in full to the front, back, and both wings of this scene of our labours. For Huckley was News. The Bun also contributed a photograph which cost me some trouble to fake.
We are a vital nation, said Ollyett while we were discussing affairs at a Bat dinner. Only an Englishman could have written that letter at this present juncture.
It reminded me of a tourist in the Cave of the Winds under Niagara. Just one figure in a mackintosh. But perhaps you saw our photo? I said proudly.
Yes, Bat replied. Ive been to Niagara, too. And hows Huckley taking it?
They dont quite understand, of course, said Ollyett. But its bringing pots of money into the place. Ever since the motor-bus excursions were started
I didnt know they had been, said Pallant.
Oh yes. Motor char-à-bancsuniformed guides and key-bugles included. Theyre getting a bit fed up with the tune there nowadays, Ollyett added.
They play it under his windows, dont they? Bat asked. He cant stop the right of way across his park.
He cannot, Ollyett answered. By the way, Woodhouse, Ive bought that font for you from the sexton. I paid fifteen pounds for it.
What am I supposed to do with it? asked Woodhouse.
You give it to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is fourteenth-century work all right. You can trust me.
Is it worth itnow? said Pallant. Not that Im weakening, but merely as a matter of tactics?
But this is true, said Ollyett. Besides, it is my hobby, I always wanted to be an architect. Ill attend to it myself. Its too serious for The Bun and miles too good for The Cake.
He broke ground in a ponderous architectural weekly, which had never heard of Huckley. There was no passion in his statement, but mere fact backed by a wide range of authorities. He established beyond doubt that the old font at Huckley had been thrown out, on Sir Thomass instigation, twenty years ago, to make room for a new one of Bath stone adorned with Limoges enamels; and that it had lain ever since in a corner of the sextons shed. He proved, with learned men to support him, that there was only one other font in all England to compare with it. So Woodhouse bought it and presented it to a grateful South Kensington which said it would see the earth still flatter before it returned the treasure to purblind Huckley. Bishops by the benchful and most of the Royal Academy, not to mention Margaritas ante Porcos, wrote fervently to the papers. Punch based a political cartoon on it; the Times a third leader, The Lust of Newness; and the Spectator a scholarly and delightful middle, Village Hausmania. The vast amused outside world said in all its tongues and types: Of course! This is just what Huckley would do! And neither Sir Thomas nor the Rector nor the sexton nor any one else wrote to deny it.
You see, said Ollyett, this is much more of a blow to Huckley than it looksbecause every word of its true. Your Gubby dance was inspiration, I admit, but it hadnt its roots in
Two hemispheres and four continents so far, I pointed out.
Its roots in the hearts of Huckley was what I was going to say. Why dont you ever comedown and look at the place? Youve never seen it since we were stopped there.
Ive only my week-ends free, I said, and you seem to spend yours there pretty regularlywith the side-car. I was afraid
Oh, thats all right, he said cheerily. Were quite an old engaged couple now. As a matter of fact, it happened after the gravid polled Angus business. Come along this Saturday. Woodhouse says hell run us down after lunch. He wants to see Huckley too.
Pallant could not accompany us, but Bat took his place.
Its odd, said Bat, that none of us except Ollyett has ever set eyes on Huckley since that time. Thats what I always tell My people. Local colour is all right after youve got your idea. Before that, its a mere nuisance. He regaled us on the way down with panoramic views of the successgeographical and financialof The Gubby and The Song.
By the way, said he, Ive assigned Dal all the gramophone rights of The Earth. Shes a born artist. Hadnt sense enough to hit me for triple-dubs the morning after. Shed have taken it out in coos.
Bless her! And whatll she make out of the gramophone rights? I asked.
Lord knows! he replied. Ive made fifty-four thousand my little end of the business, and its only just beginning. Hear that!
A shell-pink motor-brake roared up behind us to the music on a key-bugle of The Village that Voted the Earth was Flat. In a few minutes we overtook another, in natural wood, whose occupants were singing it through their noses.
I dont know that agency. It must be Cooks, said Ollyett. They do suffer. We were never out of ear-shot of the tune the rest of the way to Huckley.
Though I knew it would be so, I was disappointed with the actual aspect of the spot we hadit is not too much to saycreated in the face of the nations. The alcoholic pub; the village green; the Baptist chapel; the church; the sextons shed; the Rectory whence the so-wonderful letters had come; Sir Thomass park gatepillars still violently declaring The Earth is flat, were as mean, as average, as ordinary as the photograph of a room where a murder has been committed. Ollyett, who, of course, knew the place specially well, made the most of it to us. Bat, who had employed it as a back-cloth to one of his own dramas, dismissed it as a thing used and emptied, but Woodhouse expressed my feelings when he said: Is that allafter all weve done?
I know, said Ollyett soothingly. Like that strange song I heard Apollo sing: When Ilion like a mist rose into towers. Ive felt the same sometimes, though it has been Paradise for me. But they do suffer.
The fourth brake in thirty minutes had just turned into Sir Thomass park to tell the Hall that The Earth was flat; a knot of obviously American tourists were kodaking his lodge gates; while the tea-shop opposite the lych-gate was full of people buying postcards of the old font as it had lain twenty years in the sextons shed. We went to the alcoholic pub and congratulated the proprietor.
Its bringin money to the place, said he. But in a sense you can buy money too dear. It isnt doin us any good. People are laughin at us. Thats what theyre doin . . . . Now, with regard to that Vote of ours you may have heard talk about . . . .
For Gorze sake, chuck that votin business, cried an elderly man at the door. Money-gettin or no money-gettin, were fed up with it.
Well, I do think, said the publican, shifting his ground, I do think Sir Thomas might ha managed better in some things.
He tole me,the elderly man shouldered his way to the barhe tole me twenty years ago to take an lay that font in my tool-shed. He tole me so himself. An now, after twenty years, me own wife makin me out little better than the common angman!
Thats the sexton, the publican explained. His good lady sells the postcardsif you avent got some. But we feel Sir Thomas might ha done better.
Whats he got to do with it? said Woodhouse.
Theres nothin we can traceome to im in so many words, but we think he might ave saved us the font business. Now, in regard to that votin business
Chuck it! Oh, chuck it! the sexton roared, or youll ave me cuttin my throat at cock-crow. Eres another parcel of fun-makers!
A motor-brake had pulled up at the door and a multitude of men and women immediately descended. We went out to look. They bore rolled banners, a reading-desk in three pieces, and, I specially noticed, a collapsible harmonium, such as is used on ships at sea.
Salvation Army? I said, though I saw no uniforms.
Two of them unfurled a banner between poles which bore the legend: The Earth is flat. Woodhouse and I turned to Bat. He shook his head. No, no! Not me . . . . If I had only seen their costumes in advance!
Good Lord! said Ollyett. Its the genuine Society!
The company advanced on the green with the precision of people well broke to these movements. Scene-shifters could not have been quicker with the three-piece rostrum, nor stewards with the harmonium. Almost before its cross-legs had been kicked into their catches, certainly before the tourists by the lodge-gates had begun to move over, a woman sat down to it and struck up a hymn:
Hear ther truth our tongues are telling, Spread ther light from shore to shore, God hath given man a dwelling Flat and flat for evermore.
When ther Primal Dark retreated, |
I saw sick envy on Bats face. Curse Nature, he muttered. She gets ahead of you every time. To think I forgot hymns and a harmonium!
Then came the chorus
Hear ther truth our tongues are telling, Spread ther light from shore to shore Oh, be faithful! Oh, be truthful! Earth is flat for evermore. |
They sang several verses with the fervour of Christians awaiting their lions. Then there were growlings in the air. The sexton, embraced by the landlord, two-stepped out of the pub-door. Each was trying to outroar the other. Apologising in advarnce for what he says, the landlord shouted: Youd better go away (here the sexton began to speak words). This isnt the time nor yet the place forfor any more o this chat.
The crowd thickened. I saw the village police-sergeant come out of his cottage buckling his belt.
But surely, said the woman at the harmonium, there must be some mistake. We are not suffragettes.
Damn it! Theyd be a change, cried the sexton. You get out of this! Dont talk! I cant stand it for one! Get right out, or well font you!
The crowd which was being recruited from every house in sight echoed the invitation. The sergeant pushed forward. A man beside the reading-desk said: But surely we are among dear friends and sympathisers. Listen to me for a moment.
It was the moment that a passing char-à-banc chose to strike into The Song. The effect was instantaneous. Bat, Ollyett, and I, who by divers roads have learned the psychology of crowds, retreated towards the tavern door. Woodhouse, the newspaper proprietor, anxious, I presume, to keep touch with the public, dived into the thick of it. Every one else told the Society to go away at once. When the lady at the harmonium (I began to understand why it is sometimes necessary to kill women) pointed at the stencilled park pillars and called them the cromlechs of our common faith, there was a snarl and a rush. The police-sergeant checked it, but advised the Society to keep on going. The Society withdrew into the brake fighting, as it were, a rearguard action of oratory up each step. The collapsed harmonium was hauled in last, and with the perfect unreason of crowds, they cheered it loudly, till the chauffeur slipped in his clutch and sped away. Then the crowd broke up, congratulating all concerned except the sexton, who was held to have disgraced his office by having sworn at ladies. We strolled across the green towards Woodhouse, who was talking to the police-sergeant near the park-gates, We were not twenty yards from him when we saw Sir Thomas Ingell emerge from the lodge and rush furiously at Woodhouse with an uplifted stick, at the same time shrieking: Ill teach you to laugh, you but Ollyett has the record of the language. By the time we reached them, Sir Thomas was on the ground; Woodhouse, very white, held the walking-stick and was saying to the sergeant
I give this person in charge for assault.
But, good Lord! said the sergeant, whiter than Woodhouse. Its Sir Thomas.
Whoever it is, it isnt fit to be at large, said Woodhouse. The crowd suspecting something wrong began to reassemble, and all the English horror of a row in public moved us, headed by the sergeant, inside the lodge. We shut both park-gates and lodge-door.
You saw the assault, sergeant, Woodhouse went on. You can testify I used no more force than was necessary to protect myself. You can testify that I have not even damaged this persons property. (Here! take your stick, you!) You heard the filthy language he used.
II cant say I did, the sergeant stammered.
Oh, but we did! said Ollyett, and repeated it, to the apron-veiled horror of the lodge-keepers wife.
Sir Thomas on a hard kitchen chair began to talk. He said he had stood enough of being photographed like a wild beast, and expressed loud regret that he had not killed that man, who was conspiring with the sergeant to laugh at him.
Ad you ever seen im before, Sir Thomas? the sergeant asked.
No! But its time an example was made here. Ive never seen the sweep in my life.
I think it was Bat Masqueriers magnetic eye that recalled the past to him, for his face changed and his jaw dropped. But I have! he groaned. I remember now.
Here a writhing man entered by the back door. He was, he said, the village solicitor. I do not assert that he licked Woodhouses boots, but we should have respected him more if he had and been done with it. His notion was that the matter could be accommodated, arranged and compromised for gold, and yet more gold. The sergeant thought so too. Woodhouse undeceived them both. To the sergeant he said, Will you or will you not enter the charge? To the village solicitor he gave the name of his lawyers, at which the man wrung his hands and cried, Oh, Sir T., Sir T.! in a miserable falsetto, for it was a Bat Masquerier of a firm. They conferred together in tragic whispers.
I dont dive after Dickens, said Ollyett to Bat and me by the window, but every time I get into a row I notice the police-court always fills up with his characters.
Ive noticed that too, said Bat. But the odd thing is you mustnt give the public straight Dickensnot in My business. I wonder why that is.
Then Sir Thomas got his second wind and cursed the day that he, or it may have been we, were born. I feared that though he was a Radical he might apologise and, since he was an M.P., might lie his way out of the difficulty. But he was utterly and truthfully beside himself. He asked foolish questionssuch as what we were doing in the village at all, and how much blackmail Woodhouse expected to make out of him. But neither Woodhouse nor the sergeant nor the writhing solicitor listened. The upshot of their talk, in the chimney-corner, was that Sir Thomas stood engaged to appear next Monday before his brother magistrates on charges of assault, disorderly conduct, and language calculated, etc. Ollyett was specially careful about the language.
Then we left. The village looked very pretty in the late lightpretty and tuneful as a nest of nightingales.
Youll turn up on Monday, I hope, said Woodhouse, when we reached town. That was his only allusion to the affair.
So we turned upthrough a world still singing that the Earth was flatat the little clay-coloured market-town with the large Corn Exchange and the small jubilee memorial. We had some difficulty in getting seats in the court. Woodhouses imported London lawyer was a man of commanding personality, with a voice trained to convey blasting imputations by tone. When the case was called, he rose and stated his clients intention not to proceed with the charge. His client, he went on to say, had not entertained, and, of course, in the circumstances could not have entertained, any suggestion of accepting on behalf of public charities any moneys that might have been offered to him on the part of Sir Thomass estate. At the same time, no one acknowledged more sincerely than his client the spirit in which those offers had been made by those entitled to make them. But, as a matter of facthere he became the man of the world colloguing with his equalscertainerdetails had come to his clients knowledge since the lamentable outburst, which . . . He shrugged his shoulders. Nothing was served by going into them, but he ventured to say that, had those painful circumstances only been known earlier, his client wouldagain of coursenever have dreamed A gesture concluded the sentence, and the ensnared Bench looked at Sir Thomas with new and withdrawing eyes. Frankly, as they could see, it would be nothing less than cruelty to proceed further with thiserunfortunate affair. He asked leave, therefore, to withdraw the charge in toto, and at the same time to express his clients deepest sympathy with all who had been in any way distressed, as his client had been, by the fact and the publicity of proceedings which he could, of course, again assure them that his client would never have dreamed of instituting if, as he hoped he had made plain, certain facts had been before his client at the time when . . . But he had said enough. For his fee it seemed to me that he had.
Heaven inspired Sir Thomass lawyerall of a sweat lest his clients language should come outto rise up and thank him. Then, Sir Thomasnot yet aware what leprosy had been laid upon him, but grateful to escape on any termsfollowed suit. He was heard in interested silence, and people drew back a pace as Gehazi passed forth.
You hit hard, said Bat to Woodhouse afterwards. His own people think hes mad.
You dont say so? Ill show you some of his letters to-night at dinner, he replied.
He brought them to the Red Amber Room of the Chop Suey. We forgot to be amazed, as till then we had been amazed, over The Song or The Gubby, or the full tide of Fate that seemed to run only for our sakes. It did not even interest Ollyett that the verb to buckle had passed into the English leader-writers language. We were studying the interior of a soul, flash-lighted to its grimiest corners by the dread of losing its position.
And then it thanked you, didnt it, for dropping the case? said Pallant.
Yes, and it sent me a telegram to confirm. Woodhouse turned to Bat. Now dyou think I hit too hard? he asked.
Noo! said Bat. After allIm talking of every ones business nowone cant ever do anything in Art that comes up to Nature in any game in life. Just think how this thing has
Just let me run through that little case of yours again, said Pallant, and picked up The Bun which had it set out in full.
Any chance of Dal looking in on us to-night? Ollyett began.
Shes occupied with her Art too, Bat answered bitterly. Whats the use of Art? Tell me, some one! A barrel-organ outside promptly pointed out that the Earth was flat. The gramophones killing street organs, but I let loose a hundred-and-seventy-four of those hurdygurdys twelve hours after The Song, said Bat. Not counting the Provinces. His face brightened a little.
Look here! said Pallant over the paper. I dont suppose you or those asinine J.P.s knew itbut your lawyer ought to have known that youve all put your foot in it most confoundedly over this assault case.
Whats the matter? said Woodhouse.
Its ludicrous. Its insane. There isnt two pennorth of legality in the whole thing. Of course, you could have withdrawn the charge, but the way you went about it is childishbesides being illegal. What on earth was the Chief Constable thinking of?
Oh, he was a friend of Sir Thomass. They all were for that matter, I replied.
He ought to be hanged. So ought the Chairman of the Bench. Im talking as a lawyer now.
Why, what have we been guilty of? Misprision of treason or compounding a felonyor what? said Ollyett.
Ill tell you later. Pallant went back to the paper with knitted brows, smiling unpleasantly from time to time. At last he laughed.
Thank you!he said to Woodhouse. It ought to be pretty usefulfor us.
What dyou mean? said Ollyett.
For our side. They are all Rads who are mixed up in thisfrom the Chief Constable down. There must be a Question. There must be a Question.
Yes, but I wanted the charge withdrawn in my own way, Woodhouse insisted.
Thats nothing to do with the case. Its the legality of your silly methods. You wouldnt understand if I talked till morning. He began to pace the room, his hands behind him. I wonder if I can get it through our Whips thick head that its a chance . . . . That comes of stuffing the Bench with radical tinkers, he muttered.
Oh, sit down! said Woodhouse.
Wheres your lawyer to be found now? he jerked out.
At the Trefoil, said Bat promptly. I gave him the stage-box for to-night. Hes an artist too.
Then Im going to see him, said Pallant. Properly handled this ought to be a godsend for our side. He withdrew without apology.
Certainly, this thing keeps on opening up, and up, I remarked inanely.
Its beyond me! said Bat. I dont think if Id known Id have ever . . . Yes, I would, though. He said my home address was
It was his tonehis tone! Ollyett almost shouted. Woodhouse said nothing, but his face whitened as he brooded.
Well, any way, Bat went on, Im glad I always believed in God and Providence and all those things. Else I should lose my nerve. Weve put it over the whole worldthe full extent of the geographical globe. We couldnt stop it if we wanted to now. Its got to burn itself out. Im not in charge any more. What dyou expectll happen next. Angels?
I expected nothing. Nothing that I expected approached what I got. Politics are not my concern, but, for the moment, since it seemed that they were going to huckle with the rest, I took an interest in them. They impressed me as a dogs life without a dogs decencies, and I was confirmed in this when an unshaven and unwashen Pallant called on me at ten oclock one morning, begging for a bath and a couch.
Bail too? I asked. He was in evening dress and his eyes were sunk feet in his head.
No, he said hoarsely. All night sitting. Fifteen divisions. Nother to-night. Your place was nearer than mine, so He began to undress in the hall.
When he awoke at one oclock he gave me lurid accounts of what he said was history, but which was obviously collective hysteria. There had been a political crisis. He and his fellow M.P.s had done thingsI never quite got at the thingsfor eighteen hours on end, and the pitiless Whips were even then at the telephones to herd em up to another dog-fight. So he snorted and grew hot all over again while he might have been resting.
Im going to pitch in my question about that miscarriage of justice at Huckley this afternoon, if you care to listen to it, he said. Itll be absolutely thrown awayin our present state. I told em so; but its my only chance for weeks. Praps Woodhouse would like to come.
Im sure he would. Anything to do with Huckley interests us, I said.
Itll miss fire, Im afraid. Both sides are absolutely cooked. The present situation has been working up for some time. You see the row was bound to come, etc. etc., and he flew off the handle once more.
I telephoned to Woodhouse, and we went to the House together. It was a dull, sticky afternoon with thunder in the air. For some reason or other, each side was determined to prove its virtue and endurance to the utmost. I heard men snarling about it all round me. If they wont spare us, well show em no mercy. Break the brutes up from the start. They cant stand late hours. Come on! No shirking! I know youve had a Turkish bath, were some of the sentences I caught on our way. The House was packed already, and one could feel the negative electricity of a jaded crowd wrenching at ones own nerves, and depressing the afternoon soul.
This is bad! Woodhouse whispered. Therell be a row before theyve finished. Look at the Front Benches! And he pointed out little personal signs by which I was to know that each man was on edge. He might have spared himself. The House was ready to snap before a bone had been thrown. A sullen minister rose to reply to a staccato question. His supporters cheered defiantly. None o that! None o that! came from the Back Benches. I saw the Speakers face stiffen like the face of a helmsman as he humours a hard-mouthed yacht after a sudden following sea. The trouble was barely met in time. There came a fresh, apparently causeless gust a few minutes latersavage, threatening, but futile. It died outone could hear the sighin sudden wrathful realisation of the dreary hours ahead, and the ship of state drifted on.
Then Pallantand the raw House winced at the torture of his voicerose. It was a twenty-line question, studded with legal technicalities. The gist of it was that he wished to know whether the appropriate Minister was aware that there had been a grave miscarriage of justice on such and such a date, at such and such a place, before such and such justices of the peace, in regard to a case which arose
I heard one desperate, weary I damn! float up from the pit of that torment. Pallant sawed onout of certain events which occurred at the village of Huckley.
The House came to attention with a parting of the lips like a hiccough, and it flashed through my mind . . . . Pallant repeated, Huckley. The village
That voted the Earth was flat. A single voice from a back Bench sang it once like a lone frog in a far pool.
Earth was flat, croaked another voice opposite.
Earth was flat. There were several. Then several more.
It was, you understand, the collective, over, strained nerve of the House, snapping, strand by strand to various notes, as the hawser parts from its moorings.
The Village that voted the Earth was flat. The tune was beginning to shape itself: More voices were raised and feet began to beat time. Even so it did not occur to me that the thing would
The Village that voted the Earth was flat! It was easier now to see who were not singing. There were still a few. Of a sudden (and this proves the fundamental instability of the crossbench mind) a cross-bencher leaped on his seat and there played an imaginary double-bass with tremendous maestro-like wagglings of the elbow.
The last strand parted. The ship of state drifted out helpless on the rocking tide of melody.
The Village that voted the Earth was flat! The Village that voted the Earth was flat! |
The Irish first conceived the idea of using their order-papers as funnels wherewith to reach the correct vroomvroom on Earth. Labour, always conservative and respectable at a crisis, stood out longer than any other section, but when it came in it was howling syndicalism. Then, without distinction of Party, fear of constituents, desire for office, or hope of emolument, the House sang at the tops and at the bottoms of their voices, swaying their stale bodies and epileptically beating with their swelled feet. They sang The Village that voted the Earth was flat: first, because they wanted to, and secondlywhich is the terror of that songbecause they could not stop. For no consideration could they stop.
Pallant was still standing up. Some one pointed at him and they laughed. Others began to point, lunging, as it were, in time with the tune. At this moment two persons came in practically abreast from behind the Speakers chair, and halted appalled. One happened to be the Prime Minister and the other a messenger. The House, with tears running down their cheeks, transferred their attention to the paralysed couple. They pointed six hundred forefingers at them. They rocked, they waved, and they rolled while they pointed, but still they sang. When they weakened for an instant, Ireland would yell: Are ye with me, bhoys? and they all renewed their strength like Antaeus. No man could say afterwards what happened in the Press or the Strangers Gallery. It was the House, the hysterical and abandoned House of Commons that held all eyes, as it deafened all ears. I saw both Front Benches bend forward, some with their foreheads on their despatch-boxes, the rest with their faces in their hands; and their moving shoulders jolted the House out of its last rag of decency. Only the Speaker remained unmoved. The entire press of Great Britain bore witness next day that he had not even bowed his head. The Angel of the Constitution, for vain was the help of man, foretold him the exact moment at which the House would have broken into The Gubby. He is reported to have said: I heard the Irish beginning to shuffle it. So I adjourned. Pallants version is that he added: And I was never so grateful to a private member in all my life as I was to Mr. Pallant.
He made no explanation. He did not refer to orders or disorders. He simply adjourned the House till six that evening. And the House adjournedsome of it nearly on all fours.
I was not correct when I said that the Speaker was the only man who did not laugh. Woodhouse was beside me all the time. His face was set and quite whiteas white, they told me, as Sir Thomas Ingells when he went, by request, to a private interview with his Chief Whip.
THE SOLDIER may forget his Sword, The Sailorman the Sea, The Mason may forget the Word And the Priest his Litany: The Maid may forget both jewel and gem, And the Bride her wedding-dress But the Jew shall forget Jerusalem Ere we forget the Press!
Who once hath stood through the loaded hour
Who once hath dealt in the widest game
Canst thou number the days that we fulfil,
The Pope may launch his Interdict, |
He folded his arms and sat down on the verandah. The hot day had ended, and there was a pleasant smell of cooking along the regimental lines, where half-clad men went back and forth with leaf platters and water-goglets. The Subadar-Major, in extreme undress, sat on a chair, as befitted his rank; the Havildar-Major, his nephew, leaning respectfully against the wall. The Regiment was at home and at ease in its own quarters in its own district which takes its name from the great Muhammadan saint Mian Mir, revered by Jehangir and beloved by Guru Har Gobind, sixth of the great Sikh Gurus.
Quite correct, the Regimental Chaplain repeated.
No Sikh contradicts his Regimental Chaplain who expounds to him the Holy Book of the Grunth Sahib and who knows the lives and legends of all the Gurus.
The Subadar-Major bowed his grey head. The Havildar-Major coughed respectfully to attract attention and to ask leave to speak. Though he was the Subadar-Majors nephew, and though his father held twice as much land as his uncle, he knew his place in the scheme of things. The Subadar-Major shifted one hand with an iron bracelet on the wrist.
Was there by any chance any woman at the back of it? the Havildar-Major murmured. I was not here when the thing happened.
Yes! Yes! Yes! We all know that thou wast in England eating and drinking with the Sahibs. We are all surprised that thou canst still speak Punjabi. The Subadar-Majors carefully-tended beard bristled.
There was no woman, the Regimental Chaplain growled. It was land. Hear, you! Rutton Singh and Attar Singh were the elder of four brothers. These four held land inwhat was the villages name?oh, Pishapur, near Thori, in the Banalu Tehsil of Patiala State, where men can still recognise right behaviour when they see it. The two younger brothers tilled the land, while Rutton Singh and Attar Singh took service with the Regiment, according to the custom of the family.
True, true, said the Havildar-Major. There is the same arrangement in all good families.
Then, listen again, the Regimental Chaplain went on. Their kin on their mothers side put great oppression and injustice upon the two younger brothers who stayed with the land in Patiala State. Their mothers kin loosened beasts into the four brothers crops when the crops were green; they cut the corn by force when it was ripe; they broke down the water-courses; they defiled the wells; and they brought false charges in the law-courts against all four brothers. They did not spare even the cotton-seed, as the saying is.
Their mothers kin trusted that the young men would thus be forced by weight of trouble, and further trouble and perpetual trouble, to quit their lands in Pishapur village in Banalu Tehsil in Patiala State. If the young men ran away, the land would come whole to their mothers kin. I am not a regimental schoolmaster, but is it understood, child?
Understood, said the Havildar-Major grimly. Pishapur is not the only place where the fence eats the field instead of protecting it. But perhaps there was a woman among their mothers kin?
God knows! said the Regimental Chaplain. Woman, or man, or law-courts, the young men would not be driven off the land which was their own by inheritance. They made appeal to Rutton Singh and Attar Singh, their brethren who had taken service with us in the Regiment, and so knew the world, to help them in their long war against their mothers kin in Pishapur. For that reason, because their own land and the honour of their house was dear to them, Rutton Singh and Attar Singh needs must very often ask for leave to go to Patiala and attend to the lawsuits and cattle-poundings there.
It was not, look you, as though they went back to their own village and sat, garlanded with jasmine, in honour, upon chairs before the elders under the trees. They went back always to perpetual trouble, either of lawsuits, or theft, or strayed cattle; and they sat on thorns.
I knew it, said the Subadar-Major. Life was bitter for them both. But they were well-conducted men. It was not hard to get them their leave from the Colonel Sahib.
They spoke to me also, said the Chaplain. Let him who desires the four great gifts apply himself to the words of holy men. That is written. Often they showed me the papers of the false lawsuits brought against them. Often they wept on account of the persecution put upon them by their mothers kin. Men thought it was drugs when their eyes showed red.
They wept in my presence too, said the Subadar-Major. Well-conducted men of nine years service apiece. Rutton Singh was drill-Naik, too.
They did all things correctly as Sikhs should, said the Regimental Chaplain. When the persecution had endured seven years, Attar Singh took leave to Pishapur once again (that was the fourth time in that year only) and he called his persecutors together before the village elders, and he cast his turban at their feet and besought them by his mothers blood to cease from their persecutions. For he told them earnestly that he had marched to the boundaries of his patience, and that there could be but one end to the matter.
They gave him abuse. They mocked him and his tears, which was the same as though they had mocked the Regiment. Then Attar Singh returned to the Regiment, and laid this last trouble before Rutton Singh, the eldest brother. But Rutton Singh could not get leave all at once.
Because he was drill-Naik and the recruits were to be drilled. I myself told him so, said the Subadar-Major. He was a well-conducted man. He said he could wait.
But when permission was granted, those two took four days leave, the Chaplain went on.
I do not think Attar Singh should have taken Baynes Sahibs revolver. He was Baynes Sahibs orderly, and all that Sahibs things were open to him. It was, therefore, as I count it, shame to Attar Singh, said the Subadar-Major.
All the words had been said. There was need of arms, and how could soldiers use Government rifles upon mere cultivators in the fields? the Regimental Chaplain replied. Moreover, the revolver was sent back, together with a money-order for the cartridges expended. Borrow not; but if thou borrowest, pay back soon! That is written in the Hymns. Rutton Singh took a sword, and he and Attar Singh went to Pishapur and, after word given, the four brethren fell upon their persecutors in Pishapur village and slew seventeen, wounding ten. A revolver is better than a lawsuit. I say that these four brethren, the two with us, and the two mere cultivators, slew and wounded twenty-sevenall their mothers kin, male and female.
Then the four mounted to their housetop, and Attar Singh, who was always one of the impetuous, said My work is done, and he made shinan (purification) in all mens sight, and he lent Rutton Singh Baynes Sahibs revolver, and Rutton Singh shot him in the head.
So Attar Singh abandoned his body, as an insect abandons a blade of grass. But Rutton Singh, having more work to do, went down from the housetop and sought an enemy whom he had forgottena Patiala man of this regiment who had sided with the persecutors. When he overtook the man, Rutton Singh hit him twice with bullets and once with the sword.
But the man escaped and is now in the hospital here, said the Subadar-Major. The doctor says he will live in spite of all.
Not Rutton Singhs fault. Rutton Singh left him for dead. Then Rutton Singh returned to the housetop, and the three brothers together, Attar Singh being dead, sent word by a lad to the police station for an army to be dispatched against them that they might die with honours. But none came. And yet Patiala State is not under English law and they should know virtue there when they see it!
So, on the third day, Rutton Singh also made shinan, and the youngest of the brethren shot him also in the head, and he abandoned his body.
Thus was all correct. There was neither heat, nor haste, nor abuse in the matter from end to end. There remained alive not one man or woman of their mothers kin which had oppressed them. Of the other villagers of Pishapur, who had taken no part in the persecutions, not one was slain. Indeed, the villagers sent them food on the housetop for those three days while they waited for the police who would not dispatch that army.
Listen again! I know that Attar Singh and Rutton Singh omitted no ceremony of the purifications, and when all was done Baynes Sahibs revolver was thrown down from the housetop, together with three rupees twelve annas; and order was given for its return by post.
And what befell the two younger brethren who were not in the services the Havildar-Major asked.
Doubtless they too are dead, but since they were not in the Regiment their honour concerns themselves only. So far as we were touched, see how correctlv we came out of the matter! I think the King should be told; for where could you match such a tale except among us Sikhs? Sri wah guru ji ki Khalsa! Sri wah guru ji ki futteh! said the Regimental Chaplain.
Would three rupees twelve annas pay for the used cartridges? said the Havildar-Major.
Attar Singh knew the just price. All Baynes Sahibs gear was in his charge. They expended one tin box of fifty cartouches, lacking two which were returned. As I saidas I saythe arrangement was made not with heat nor blasphemies as a Mussulman would have made it; not with cries nor caperings as an idolater would have made it; but conformably to the ritual and doctrine of the Sikhs. Hear you! Though hundreds of amusements are offered to a child it cannot live without milk. If a man be divorced from his soul and his souls desire he certainly will not stop to play upon the road, but he will make haste with his pilgrimage. That is written. I rejoice in my disciples.
True! True! Correct! Correct! said the Subadar-Major. There was a long, easy silence. One heard a water-wheel creaking somewhere and the nearer sound of meal being ground in a quern.
But he the Chaplain pointed a scornful chin at the Havildar-Major.he has been so long in England that
Let the lad alone, said his uncle. He was but two months there, and he was chosen for good cause.
Theoretically, all Sikhs are equal. Practically, there are differences, as none know better than well-born, land-owning folk, or long-descended chaplains from Amritsar.
Hast thou heard anything in England to match my tale? the Chaplain sneered.
I saw more than I could understand, so I have locked up my stories in my own mouth, the Havildar-Major replied meekly.
Stories? What stories? I know all the stories about England, said the Chaplain. I know that terains run underneath their bazaars there, and as for their streets stinking with mota-kahars, only this morning I was nearly killed by Duggan Sahibs mota-kahar. That young man is a devil.
I expect Grunthi-jee, said the Subadar-Major, you and I grow too old to care for the Kahar-ki-nautchthe Bearers dance. He named one of the sauciest of the old-time nautches, and smiled at his own pun. Then he turned to his nephew. When I was a lad and came back to my village on leave, I waited the convenient hour, and, the elders giving permission, I spoke of what I had seen elsewhere.
Ay, my father, said the Havildar-Major, softly and affectionately. He sat himself down with respect, as behoved a mere lad of thirty with a bare half-dozen campaigns to his credit.
There were four men in this affair also, he began, and it was an affair that touched the honour, not of one regiment, nor two, but of all the Army in Hind. Some part of it I saw; some I heard; but all the tale is true. My fathers brother knows, and my priest knows, that I was in England on business with my Colonel, when the Kingthe Great Queens soncompleted his life.
First, there was a rumour that sickness was upon him. Next, we knew that he lay sick in the Palace. A very great multitude stood outside the Palace by night and by day, in the rain as well as the sun, waiting for news.
Then came out one with a written paper, and set it upon a gate-sidethe word of the Kings deathand they read, and groaned. This I saw with my own eyes, because the office where my Colonel Sahib went daily to talk with Colonel Forsyth Sahib was at the east end of the very gardens where the Palace stood. They are larger gardens than Shalimar herehe pointed with his chin up the linesor Shahdera across the river.
Next day there was a darkness in the streets, because all the citys multitude were clad in black garments, and they spoke as a man speaks in the presence of his deadall those multitudes. In the eyes, in the air, and in the heart, there was blackness. I saw it. But that is not my tale.
After ceremonies had been accomplished, and word had gone out to the Kings of the Earth that they should come and mourn, the new Kingthe dead Kings songave commandment that his fathers body should be laid, coffined, in a certain Temple which is near the river. There are no idols in that Temple; neither any carvings, nor paintings, nor gildings. It is all grey stone, of one colour as though it were cut out of the live rock. It is larger thanyes, than the Durbar Sahib at Amritsar, even though the Akal Bunga and the Baba-Atal were added. How old it may be God knows. It is the Sahibs most sacred Temple.
In that place, by the new Kings commandment, they made, as it were, a shrine for a saint, with lighted candles at the head and the feet of the Dead, and duly appointed watchers for every hour of the day and the night, until the dead King should be taken to the place of his fathers, which is at Wanidza.
When all was in order, the new King said, Give entrance to all people, and the doors were opened, and O my uncle! O my teacher! all the world entered, walking through that Temple to take farewell of the Dead. There was neither distinction, nor price, nor ranking in the host, except an order that they should walk by fours.
As they gathered in the streets withoutvery, very far offso they entered the Temple, walking by fours: the child, the old man; mother, virgin, harlot, trader, priest; of all colours and faiths and customs under the firmament of God, from dawn till late at night. I saw it. My Colonel gave me leave to go. I stood in the line, many hours, one koss, two koss, distant from the temple.
Then why did the multitude not sit down under the trees? asked the priest.
Because we were still between houses. The city is many koss wide, the Havildar-Major resumed. I submitted myself to that slow-moving river and thusthusa pace at a timeI made pilgrimage. There were in my rank a woman, a cripple, and a lascar from the ships.
When we entered the Temple, the coffin itself was as a shoal in the Ravi River, splitting the stream into two branches, one on either side of the Dead; and the watchers of the Dead, who were soldiers, stood about It, moving no more than the still flame of the candles. Their heads were bowed; their hands were clasped; their eyes were cast upon the groundthus. They were not men, but images, and the multitude went past them in fours by day, and, except for a little while, by night also.
No, there was no order that the people should come to pay respect. It was a free-will pilgrimage. Eight kings had been commanded to comewho obeyedbut upon his own Sahibs the new King laid no commandment. Of themselves they came.
I made pilgrimage twice: once for my Salts sake, and once again for wonder and terror and worship. But my mouth cannot declare one thing of a hundred thousand things in this matter. There were lakhs of lakhs, crores of crores of people. I saw them.
More than at our great pilgrimages? the Regimental Chaplain demanded.
Yes. Those are only cities and districts coming out to pray. This was the world walking in grief. And now, hear you! It is the Kings custom that four swords of Our Armies in Hind should stand always before the Presence in case of need.
The Kings custom, our right, said the Subadar-Major curtly.
Also our right. These honoured ones are changed after certain months or years, that the honour may be fairly spread. Now it chanced that when the old Kingthe Queens soncompleted his days, the four that stood in the Presence were Goorkhas. Neither Sikhs alas, nor Pathans, IZajputs, nor Jats. Goorkhas, my father.
Idolaters, said the Chaplain.
But soldiers; for I remember in the Tirah the Havildar-Major began.
But soldiers, for I remember fifteen campaigns. Go on, said the Subadar-Major.
And it was their honour and right to furnish one who should stand in the Presence by day and by night till It went out to burial. There were no more than four all toldfour old men to furnish that guard.
Old? Old? What talk is this of old men? said the Subadar-Major.
Nay. My fault! Your pardon! The Havildar-Major spread a deprecating hand. They were strong, hot, valiant men, and the youngest was a lad of forty-five.
That is better, the Subadar-Major laughed.
But for all their strength and heat they could not eat strange food from the Sahibs hands. There was no cooking place in the Temple; but a certain Colonel Forsyth Sahib, who had understanding, made arrangement whereby they should receive at least a little caste-clean parched grain; also cold rice maybe, and water which was pure. Yet, at best, this was no more than a hens mouthful, snatched as each came off his guard. They lived on grain and were thankful, as the saying is.
One hours guard in every four was each mans burden, for, as I have shown, they were but four all told; and the honour of Our Armies in Hind was on their heads. The Sahibs could draw upon all the armies in England for the other watchersthousands upon thousands of fresh menif they needed; but these four were but four.
The Sahibs drew upon the Granadeers for the other watchers. Granadeers be very tall men under very tall bearskins, such as Fusilier regiments wear in cold weather. Thus, when a Granadeer bowed his head but a very little over his stock, the bearskin sloped and showed as though he grieved exceedingly. Now the Goorkhas wear flat, green caps
I see, I see, said the Subadar-Major impatiently.
They are bull-necked, too; and their stocks are hard, and when they bend deeplydeeplyto match the Granadeersthey come nigh to choking themselves. That was a handicap against them, when it came to the observance of ritual.
Yet even with their tall, grief-declaring bearskins, the Granadeers could not endure the full hours guard in the Presence. There was good cause, as I will show, why no man could endure that terrible hour. So for them the hours guard was cut to one-half. What did it matter to the Sahibs? They could draw on ten thousand Granadeers. Forsyth Sahib, who had comprehension, put this choice also before the four, and they said, No, ours is the Honour of the Armies of Hind. Whatever the Sahibs do, we will suffer the full hour.
Forsyth Sahib, seeing that they wereknowing that they could neither sleep long nor eat much, said, Is it great suffering? They said, It is great honour. We will endure.
Forsyth Sahib, who loves us, said then to the eldest, Ho, father, tell me truly what manner of burden it is; for the full hours watch breaks up our men like water.
The eldest answered, Sahib, the burden is the feet of the multitude that pass us on either side. Our eyes being lowered and fixed, we see those feet only from the knee downa river of feet, Sahib, that nevernevernever stops. It is not the standing without any motion; it is not hunger; nor is it the dead part before the dawn when maybe a single one comes here to weep. It is the burden of the unendurable procession of feet from the knee down, that nevernevernever stops!
Forsyth Sahib said, By God, I had not considered that! Now I know why our men come trembling and twitching off that guard. But at least, my father, ease the stock a little beneath the bent chin for that one hour.
The eldest said, We are in the Presence. Moreover He knew every button and braid and hook of every uniform in all His armies.
Then Forsyth Sahib said no more, except to speak about their parched grain, but indeed they could not eat much after their hour, nor could they sleep much because of eye-twitchings and the renewed procession of the feet before the eyes. Yet they endured each his full hournot half an hourhis one full hour in each four hours.
Correct! correct! said the Subadar-Major and the Chaplain together. We come well out of this affair.
But seeing that they were old men, said the Subadar-Major reflectively, very old men, worn out by lack of food and sleep, could not arrangements have been made, or influence have been secured, or a petition presented, whereby a well-born Sikh might have eased them of some portion of their great burden, even though his substantive rank
Then they would most certainly have slain me, said the ftavildar-Major with a smile.
And they would have done correctly, said the Chaplain. What befell the honourable ones later?
This. The Kings of the earth and all the Armies sent flowers and such-like to the dead Kings palace at Wanidza, where the funeral offerings were accepted. There was no order given, but all the world made oblation. So the four took counselthree at a timeand either they asked Forsyth Sahib to choose flowers, or themselves they went forth and bought flowersI do not know; but, however it was arranged, the flowers were bought and made in the shape of a great drum-like circle weighing half a maund.
Forsyth Sahib had said, Let the flowers be sent to Wanidza with the other flowers which all the world is sending. But they said among themselves, It is not fit that these flowers, which are the offerings of His Armies in Hind, should come to the Palace of the Presence by the hands of hirelings or messengers, or of any man not in His service.
Hearing this, Forsyth Sahib, though he was much occupied with office-work, said, Give me the flowers, and I will steal a time and myself take them to Wanidza.
The eldest said, Since when has Forsyth Sahib worn sword?
Forsyth Sahib said, But always. And I wear it in the Presence when I put on uniform. I am a Colonel in the Armies of Hind. The eldest said, Of what regiment? And Forsyth Sahib looked on the carpet and pulled the hair of his lip. He saw the trap.
Forsyth Sahibs regiment was once the old Forty-sixth Pathans which was called the Subadar-Major gave the almost forgotten title, adding that he had met them in such and such campaigns, when Forsyth Sahib was a young captain.
The Havildar-Major took up the tale, saying, The eldest knew that also, my father. He laughed, and presently Forsyth Sahib laughed.
It is true, said Forsyth Sahib. I have no regiment. For twenty years I have been a clerk tied to a thick pen. Therefore I am the more fit to be your orderly and messenger in this business.
The eldest then said, If it were a matter of my life or the honour of any of my household, it would be easy. And Forsyth Sahib joined his hands together, half laughing, though he was ready to weep, and he said, Enough! I ask pardon. Which one of you goes with the offering?
The eldest said, feigning not to have heard, Nor must they be delivered by a single swordas though we were pressed for men in His service, and they saluted and went out.
Were these things seen, or were they told thee? said the Subadar-Major.
I both saw and heard in the office full of books and papers where my Colonel Sahib consulted Forsyth Sahib upon the business that had brought my Colonel Sahib to England.
And what was that business? the Regimental Chaplain asked of a sudden, looking full at the Havildar-Major, who returned the look without a quiver.
That was not revealed to me, said the Havildar-Major.
I heard it might have been some matter touching the integrity of certain regiments, the Chaplain insisted.
The matter was not in any way open to my ears, said the Havildar-Major.
Humph! The Chaplain drew his hard road-worn feet under his robe. Let us hear the tale that it is permitted thee to tell, he said, and the Havildar-Major went on
So then the three, having returned to the Temple, called the fourth, who had only forty-five years, when he came off guard, and said, We go to the Palace at Wanidza with the offerings. Remain thou in the Presence, and take all our guards, one after the other, till we return.
Within that next hour they hired a large and strong mota-kahar for the journey from the Temple to Wanidza, which is twenty koss or more, and they promised expedition. But he who took their guards said, It is not seemly that we should for any cause appear to be in haste. There are eighteen medals with eleven clasps and three Orders to consider. Go at leisure. I can endure.
So the three with the offerings were absent three hours and a half, and having delivered the offering at Wanidza in the correct manner they returned and found the lad on guard, and they did not break his guard till his full hour was ended. So he endured four hours in the Presence, not stirring one hair, his eyes abased, and the river of feet, from the knee down, passing continually before his eyes. When he was relieved, it was seen that his eyeballs worked like weavers shuttles.
And so it was donenot in hot blood, not for a little while, nor yet with the smell of slaughter and the noise of shouting to sustain, but in silence, for a very long time, rooted to one place before the Presence among the most terrible feet of the multitude.
Correct! the Chaplain chuckled.
But the Goorkhas had the honour, said the Subadar-Major sadly.
Theirs was the Honour of His Armies in Hind, and that was Our Honour, the nephew replied.
Yet I would one Sikh had been concerned in iteven one low-caste Sikh. And after?
They endured the burden until the enduntil It went out of the Temple to be laid among the older kings at Wanidza. When all was accomplished and It was withdrawn under the earth, Forsyth Sahib said to the four, The King gives command that you be fed here on meat cooked by your own cooks. Eat and take ease, my fathers.
So they loosed their belts and ate. They had not eaten food except by snatches for some long time; and when the meat had given them strength they slept for very many hours; and it was told me that the procession of the unendurable feet ceased to pass before their eyes any more.
He threw out one hand palm upward to show that the tale was ended.
We came well and cleanly out of it, said the Subadar-Major.
Correct! Correct! Correct! said the Regimental Chaplain. In an evil age it is good to hear such things, and there is certainly no doubt that this is a very evil age.
BLESSED be the English and all their ways and works. Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks! Amen, quo Jobson, but where I used to lie Was neither Candle, Bell nor Book to curse my brethren by,
But a palm-tree in full bearing, bowing down, bowing down,
Blessed be the English and all that they profess.
But a well-wheel slowly creaking, going round, going round,
Blessèd be the English and everything they own.
But a desert stretched and stricken, left and right, left and right,
Blessèd be the English and all they make or do.
But Himalaya heavenward-heading, sheer and vast, sheer and vast, |
THE Fifth Form had been dragged several times in its collective life, from one end of the school Horace to the other. Those were the years when Army examiners gave thousands of marks for Latin, and it was Mr. Kings hated business to defeat them.
Hear him, then, on a raw November morning at second lesson.
Aha! he began, rubbing his hands. Cras ingens iterabimus aequor. Our portion to-day is the Fifth Ode of the Third Book, I believeconcerning one Regulus, a gentleman. And how often have we been through it?
Twice, sir, said Malpass, head of the Form.
Mr. King shuddered. Yes, twice, quite literally, he said. To-day, with an eye to your Army viva-voce examinationsugh!I shall exact somewhat freer and more florid renditions. With feeling and comprehension if that be possible. I excepthere his eye swept the back benchesour friend and companion Beetle, from whom, now as always, I demand an absolutely literal translation. The form laughed subserviently.
Spare his blushes! Beetle charms us first.
Beetle stood up, confident in the possession of a guaranteed construe, left behind by MTurk, who had that day gone into the sick-house with a cold. Yet he was too wary a hand to show confidence.
Credidimus, webelievewe have believed, he opened in hesitating slow time, tonantem Jovem, thundering Joveregnare, to reigncaelo, in heaven. Augustus,Augustushabebitur, will be held or considered praesens divus, a present Godadjectis Britannis, the Britons being addedimperio, to the Empiregravibusque Persis, with the heavyer, stern Persians.
What?
The grave or stern Persians. Beetle pulled up with the Thank-God-I-have-done-my-duty air of Nelson in the cockpit.
I am quite aware, said King, that the first stanza is about the extent of your knowledge, but continue, sweet one, continue. Gravibus, by the way, is usually translated as troublesome.
Beetle drew along and tortured breath. The second stanza (which carries over to the third) of that Ode is what is technically called a stinker. But MTurk had done him handsomely.
Milesne Crassi, hadhas the soldier of Crassusvixit, livedlurpis maritus, a disgraceful husband
You slurred the quantity of the word after turpis, said King. Lets hear it.
Beetle guessed again, and for a wonder hit the correct quantity. Era disgraceful husbandconjuge barbara, with a barbarous spouse.
Why do you select that disgustful equivalent out of all the dictionary? King snapped. Isnt wife good enough for you?
Yes, sir. But what do I do about this bracket, sir? Shall I take it now?
Confine yourself at present to the soldier of Crassus.
Yes, Sir. Et, andconsenuit, has he grown oldin armis, in theerarmshostium socerorum, of his father-in-laws enemies.
Who? How? Which?
Arms of his enemies fathers-in-law, sir.
Tha-anks. By the way, what meaning might you attach to in armis?
Oh, weaponsweapons of war, sir. There was a virginal note in Beetles voice as though he had been falsely accused of uttering indecencies. Shall I take the bracket now, sir?
Since it seems to be troubling you.
Pro Curia, O for the Senate Houseinversique mores, and manners upsetupside down.
Ve-ry like your translation. Meantime, the soldier of Crassus?
Sub rege Medo, under a Median KingMarsus et Apulus, he being a Marsian and an Apulian.
Who? The Median King?
No, sir. The soldier of Crassus. Oblittus agrees with milesne Crassi, sir, volunteered too hasty Beetle.
Does it? It doesnt with me.
Oh-blight-us, Beetle corrected hastily, forgetfulanciliorum, of the shields, or trophieset nominis, and thehis nameet togae, and the togaeternaeque Vestae, and eternal Vestaincolumi Jove, Jove being safeet urbe Roma, and the Roman city. With an air of hardly restrained zealShall I go on, sir?
Mr. King winced. No, thank you. You have indeed given us a translation! May I ask if it conveys any meaning whatever to your so-called mind?
Oh, I think so, sir. This with gentle toleration for Horace and all his works.
We envy you. Sit down.
Beetle sat down relieved, well knowing that a reef of uncharted genitives stretched ahead of him, on which in spite of MTurks sailing-directions he would infallibly have been wrecked.
Rattray, who took up the task, steered neatly through them and came unscathed to port.
Here we require drama, said King. Regulus himself is speaking now. Who shall represent the provident-minded Regulus? Winton, will you kindly oblige?
Winton of Kings House, a long, heavy, towheaded Second Fifteen forward, overdue for his First Fifteen colours, and in aspect like an earnest, elderly horse, rose up, and announced, among other things, that he had seen signs affixed to Punic deluges. Half the Form shouted for joy, and the other half for joy that there was something to shout about.
Mr. King opened and shut his eyes with great swiftness. Signa adfixa delubris, he gasped. So delubris is deluges is it? Winton, in all our dealings, have I ever suspected you of a jest?
No, sir, said the rigid and angular Winton, while the Form rocked about him.
And yet you assert delubris means deluges. Whether I am a fit subject for such a jape is, of course, a matter of opinion, but . . . . Winton, you are normally conscientious. May we assume you looked out delubris?
No, sir. Winton was privileged to speak that truth dangerous to all who stand before Kings.
Made a shot at it then?
Every line of Wintons body showed he had done nothing of the sort. Indeed, the very idea that Pater Winton (and a boy is not called Pater by companions for his frivolity) would make a shot at anything was beyond belief. But he replied, Yes, and all the while worked with his right heel as though he were heeling a ball at punt-about.
Though none dared to boast of being a favourite with King, the taciturn, three-cornered Winton stood high in his House-Masters opinion. It seemed to save him neither rebuke nor punishment, but the two were in some fashion sympathetic.
Hm! said King drily. I was going to sayFlagitio additis damnum, but I thinkI think I see the process. Beetle, the translation of delubris, please.
Beetle raised his head from his shaking arm long enough to answer: Ruins, sir.
There was an impressive pause while King checked off crimes on his fingers. Then to Beetle the much-enduring man addressed winged words:
Guessing, said he. Guessing, Beetle, as usual, from the look of delubris that it bore some relation to diluvium or deluge, you imparted the result of your half-baked lucubrations to Winton who seems to have been lost enough to have accepted it. Observing next, your companions fall, from the presumed security of your undistinguished position in the rear-guard, you took another pot-shot. The turbid chaos of your mind threw up some memory of the word dilapidations which you have pitifully attempted to disguise under the synonym of ruins.
As this was precisely what Beetle had done he looked hurt but forgiving. We will attend to this later, said King. Go on, Winton, and retrieve yourself.
Delubris happened to be the one word which Winton had not looked out and had asked Beetle for, when they were settling into their places. He forged ahead with no further trouble. Only when he rendered scilicet as forsooth, King erupted.
Regulus, he said, was not a leader-writer for the penny press, nor, for that matter, was Horace. Regulus says: The soldier ransomed by gold will come keener for the fightwill he byby gum! Thats the meaning of scilicet. It indicates contemptbitter contempt. Forsooth, forsooth! Youll be talking about speckled beauties and eventually transpire next. Howell, what do you make of that doubled Vidi egoego vidi? It wasnt put in to fill up the metre, you know.
Isnt it intensive, sir? said Howell, afflicted by a genuine interest in what he read. Regulus was a bit in earnest about Rome making no terms with Carthageand he wanted to let the Romans understand it, didnt he, sir?
Less than your usual grace, but the fact. Regulus was in earnest. He was also engaged at the same time in cutting his own throat with every word he uttered. He knew Carthage which (your examiners wont ask you this so you neednt take notes) was a sort of God-forsaken nigger Manchester. Regulus was not thinking about his own life. He was telling Rome the truth. He was playing for his side. Those lines from the eighteenth to the fortieth ought to be written in blood. Yet there are things in human garments which will tell you that Horace was a flaneura man about town. Avoid such beings. Horace knew a very great deal. He knew! Erit ille fortiswill he be brave who once to faithless foes has knelt? And again (stop pawing with your hooves, Thornton! ) hic unde vitam sumeret inscius. That means roughlybut I perceive I am ahead of my translators. Begin at hic unde, Vernon, and let us see if you have the spirit of Regulus.
Now no one expected fireworks from gentle Paddy Vernon, sub-prefect of Hartopps House, but, as must often be the case with growing boys, his mind was in abeyance for the time being, and he said, all in a rush, on behalf of Regulus: O magna Carthago probrosis altior Italiae ruinis, O Carthage, thou wilt stand forth higher than the ruins of Italy.
Even Beetle, most lenient of critics, was interested at this point, though he did not join the half-groan of reprobation from the wiser heads of the Form.
Please dont mind me, said King, and Vernon very kindly did not. He ploughed on thus: He (Regulus) is related to have removed from himself the kiss of the shameful wife and of his small children as less by the head, and, being stern, to have placed his virile visage on the ground.
Since King loved virile about as much as he did spouse or forsooth the Form looked up hopefully. But Jove thundered not.
Until, Vernon continued, he should have confirmed the sliding fathers as being the author of counsel never given under an alias.
He stopped, conscious of stillness round him like the dread calm of the typhoons centre. Kings opening voice was sweeter than honey.
I am painfully aware by bitter experience that I cannot give you any idea of the passion, the power, thethe essential guts of the lines which you have so foully outraged in our presence. But the note changed, so far as in me lies, I will strive to bring home to you, Vernon, the fact that there exist in Latin a few pitiful rules of grammar, of syntax, nay, even of declension, which were not created for your incult sportyour Botian diversion. You will, therefore, Vernon, write out and bring to me to-morrow a word-for-word English-Latin translation of the Ode, together with a full list of all adjectivesan adjective is not a verb, Vernon, as the Lower Third will tell youall adjectives, their number, case, and gender. Even now I havent begun to deal with you faithfully.
IIm very sorry, sir, Vernon stammered.
You mistake the symptoms, Vernon. You are possibly discomfited by the imposition, but sorrow postulates some sort of mind, intellect, nous. Your rendering of probrosis alone stamps you as lower than the beasts of the field. Will some one take the taste out of our mouths? Andtalking of tastes He coughed. There was a distinct flavour of chlorine gas in the air. Up went an eyebrow, though King knew perfectly well what it meant.
Mr. Hartopps stscience class next door, said Malpass.
Oh yes. I had forgotten. Our newly established Modern Side, of course. Perowne, open the windows; and Winton, go on once more from interque maerentes.
And hastened away, said Winton, surrounded by his mourning friends, intointo illustrious banishment. But I got that out of Conington, sir, he added in one conscientious breath.
I am aware. The master generally knows his asss crib, though I acquit you of any intention that way. Can you suggest anything for egregius exul? Only egregious exile? I fear egregious is a good word ruined. No! You cant in this case improve on Conington. Now then for atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor par aret. The whole force of it lies in the atqui.
Although he knew, Winton suggested.
Stronger than that, I think.
He who knew well, Malpass interpolated.
Ye-es. Well though he knew. I dont like Coningtons well-witting. Its Wardour Street.
Well though he knew what the savage torturer waswas getting ready for him, said Winton.
Ye-es. Had in store for him.
Yet he brushed aside his kinsmen and the people delaying his return.
Ye-es; but then how do you render obstantes?
If its a free translation mightnt obstantes and morantem come to about the same thing, sir??
Nothing comes to about the same thing with Horace, Winton. As I have said, Horace was not a journalist. No, I take it that his kinsmen bodily withstood his departure, whereas the crowdpopulumquethe democracy stood about futilely pitying him and getting in the way. Now for that noblest of endingsquam si clientum, and King ran off into the quotation:
As though some tedious business oer Of clients court, his journey lay Towards Venafrums grassy floor Or Sparta-built Tarentums bay. |
All right, Winton. Beetle, when youve quite finished dodging the fresh air yonder, give me the meaning of tendensand turn down your collar.
Me, sir? Tendens, sir? Oh! Stretching away in the direction of, sir.
Idiot! Regulus was not a feature of the landscape. He was a man, self-doomed to death by torture. Atqui sciebatknowing ithaving achieved it for his countrys sakecant you hear that atqui cut like a knife?he moved off with some dignity. That is why Horace out of the whole golden Latin tongue chose the one word tendenswhich is utterly untranslatable.
The gross injustice of being asked to translate it, converted Beetle into a young Christian martyr, till King buried his nose in his handkerchief again.
I think theyve broken another gas-bottle next door, sir, said Howell. Theyre always doing it. The Form coughed as more chlorine came in.
Well, I suppose we must be patient with the Modern Side, said King. But it is almost insupportable for this Side. Vernon, what are you grinning at?
Vernons mind had returned to him glowing and inspired. He chuckled as he underlined his Horace.
It appears to amuse you, said King. Let us participate. What is it?
The last two lines of the Tenth Ode, in this book, sir, was Vernons amazing reply.
What? Oh, I see. Non hoc semper erit liminis aut aquae caelestis patiens latus. Kings mouth twitched to hide a grin. Was that done with intention?
II thought it fitted, sir.
It does. Its distinctly happy. What put it into your thick head, Paddy?
I dont know, sir, except we did the Ode last term.
And you remembered? The same head that minted probrosis as a verb! Vernon, you are an enigma. No! This Side will not always be patient of unheavenly gases and waters. I will make representations to our so-called Moderns. Meantime (who shall say I am not just?) I remit you your accrued pains and penalties in regard to probrosim, probrosis, probrosit and other enormities. I oughtnt to do it, but this Side is occasionally human. By no means bad, Paddy.
Thank you, sir, said Vernon, wondering how inspiration had visited him.
Then King, with a few brisk remarks about Science, headed them back to Regulus, of whom and of Horace and Rome and evil-minded commercial Carthage and of the democracy eternally futile, he explained, in all ages and climes, he spoke for ten minutes; passing thence to the next OdeDelicta majorumwhere he fetched up, full-voiced, uponDis te minorem quod geris imperas (Thou rulest because thou bearest thyself as lower than the Gods)making it a text for a discourse on manners, morals, and respect for authority as distinct from bottled gases, which lasted till the bell rang. Then Beetle, concertinaing his books, observed to Winton, When Kings really on tap hes an interestin dog. Hartopps chlorine uncorked him.
Yes; but why did you tell me delubris was deluges, you silly ass? said Winton.
Well, that uncorked him too. Look out, you hoof-handed old owl! Winton had cleared for action as the Form poured out like puppies at play and was scragging Beetle. Stalky from behind collared Winton low. The three fell in confusion.
Dis te minorem quod geris imperas, quoth Stalky, ruflling Wintons lint-whitelocks. Mustnt jape with Number Five study. Dont be too virtuous. Dont brood over it. Twont count against you in your future caree-ah. Cheer up, Pater.
Pull him off myeressential guts, will you? said Beetle from beneath. Hes squashin em.
They dispersed to their studies.
You see, the Head drawled on, Wintons only fault is a certain costive and unaccommodating virtue. So this comes very happily.
Ive never noticed any sign of it, said King. Winton was in Kings House, and though King as pro-consul might, and did, infernally oppress his own Province, once a black and yellow cap was in trouble at the hands of the Imperial authority King fought for him to the very last steps of Caesars throne.
Well, you yourself admitted just now that a mouse was beneath the occasion, the Head answered.
It was. Mr. King did not love Mr. Lidgett. It should have been a rat. ButbutI hate to plead itits the lads first offence.
Could you have damned him more completely, King?
Hm. What is the penalty? said King, in retreat, but keeping up a rear-guard action.
Only my usual few lines of Virgil to be shown up by tea-time.
The Heads eyes turned slightly to that end of the corridor where Mullins, Captain of the Games (Pot, old Pot, or Potiphar Mullins), was pinning up the usual Wednesday noticeBig, Middle, and Little Side FootballA to K, L to Z, 3 to 4.45 p.m.
You cannot write out the Heads usual few (which means five hundred) Latin lines and play football for one hour and three-quarters between the hours of 1.30 and 5 p.m. Winton had evidently no intention of trying to do so, for he hung about the corridor with a set face and an uneasy foot. Yet it was law in the school, compared with which that of the Medes and Persians was no more than a non-committal resolution, that any boy, outside the First Fifteen, who missed his football for any reason whatever, and had not a written excuse, duly signed by competent authority to explain his absence, would receive not less than three strokes with a ground-ash from the Captain of the Games, generally a youth between seventeen and eighteen years, rarely under eleven stone (Pot was nearer thirteen), and always in hard condition.
King knew without inquiry that the Head had given Winton no such excuse.
But he is practically a member of the First Fifteen. He has played for it all this term, said King. I believe his Cap should have arrived last week.
His Cap has not been given him. Officially, therefore, he is naught. I rely on old Pot.
But Mullins is Wintons study-mate, King persisted.
Pot Mullins and Pater Winton were cousins and rather close friends.
That will make no difference to Mullinsor Winton, if I know em, said the Head.
Butbut, King played his last card desperately, I was going to recommend Winton for extra sub-prefect in my House, now Carton has gone.
Certainly, said the Head. Why not? He will be excellent by tea-time, I hope.
At that moment they saw Mr. Lidgett, tripping down the corridor, waylaid by Winton.
Its about that mouse-business at mechanical drawing, Winton opened, swinging across his path.
Yes, yes, highly disgraceful, Mr. Lidgett panted.
I know it was, said Winton. Itit was a cads trick because
Because you knew I couldnt give you more than fifty lines, said Mr. Lidgett.
Well, anyhow Ive come to apologise for it.
Certainly, said Mr. Lidgett, and added, for he was a kindly man, I think that shows quite right feeling. Ill tell the Head at once Im satisfied.
Nono! The boys still unmended voice jumped from the growl to the squeak. I didnt mean that! II did it on principle. Please donterdo anything of that kind.
Mr. Lidgett looked him up and down and, being an artist, understood.
Thank you, Winton, he said. This shall be between ourselves.
You heard? said King, indecent pride in his voice.
Of course. You thought he was going to get Lidgett to beg him off the impot.
King denied this with so much warmth that the Head laughed and King went away in a huff.
By the way, said the Head, Ive told Winton to do his lines in your form-roomnot in his study.
Thanks, said King over his shoulder, for the Heads orders had saved Winton and Mullins, who was doing extra Army work in the study, from an embarrassing afternoon together.
An hour later, King wandered into his still form-room as though by accident. Winton was hard at work.
Aha! said King, rubbing his hands. This does not look like games, Winton. Dont let me arrest your facile pen. Whence this sudden love for Virgil?
Impot from the Head, sir, for that mouse-business this morning.
Rumours thereof have reached us. That was a lapse on your part into Lower Thirdery which I dont quite understand.
The tump-tump of the puntabouts before the sides settled to games came through the open window. Winton, like his House-master, loved fresh air. Then they heard Paddy Vernon, sub-prefect on duty, calling the roll in the field and marking defaulters. Winton wrote steadily. King curled himself up on a desk, hands round knees. One would have said that the man was gloating over the boys misfortune, but the boy understood.
Dis te minorem quad geris imperas, King quoted presently. It is necessary to bear oneself as lower than the local godseven than drawing-masters who are precluded from effective retaliation. I do wish youd tried that mouse-game with me, Pater.
Winton grinned; then sobered. It was a cads trick, sir, to play on Mr. Lidgett. He peered forward at the page he was copying.
Well, the sin I impute to each frustrate ghosts King stopped himself: Why do you goggle like an owl? Hand me the Mantuan and Ill dictate. No matter. Any rich Virgilian measures will serve. I may peradventure recall a few. He began:
Tu regere imperio populos Romane memento Hae tibi erunt artes pacisque imponere morem, Parcere subjectis et debellare superbos. |
There you have it all, Winton. Write that out twice and yet once again.
For the next forty minutes, with never a glance at the book, King paid out the glorious hexameters (and King could read Latin as though it were alive), Winton hauling them in and coiling them away behind him as trimmers in a telegraph-ships hold coil away deep-sea cable. King broke from the Aeneid to the Georgics and back again, pausing now and then to translate some specially loved line or to dwell on the treble-shot texture of the ancient fabric. He did not allude to the coming interview with Mullins except at the last, when he said, I think at this juncture, Pater, I need not ask you for the precise significance of atqui sciebat quae sibi barbarus tortor.
The ungrateful Winton flushed angrily, and King loafed out to take five oclock call-over, after which he invited little Hartopp to tea and a talk on chlorine-gas. Hartopp accepted the challenge like a bantam, and the two went up to Kings study about the same time as Winton returned to the form-room beneath it to finish his lines.
Then half a dozen of the Second Fifteen who should have been washing strolled in to condole with Pater Winton, whose misfortune and its consequences were common talk. No one was more sincere than the long, red-headed, knotty-knuckled Paddy Vernon, but, being a careless animal, he joggled Wintons desk.
Curse you for a silly ass! said Winton. Dont do that.
No one is expected to be polite while under punishment, so Vernon, sinking his sub-prefectship, replied peacefully enough:
Well, dont be wrathy, Pater.
Im not, said Winton. Get out! This aint your House form-room.
Form-room dont belong to you. Why dont you go to your own study? Vernon replied.
Because Mullins is there waitin for the victim, said Stalky delicately, and they all laughed. You ought to have shaken that mouse out of your trouser-leg, Pater. Thats the way I did in my youth. Paters revertin to his second childhood. Never mind, Pater, we all respect you and your future caree-ah.
Winton, still writhing, growled. Vernon leaning on the desk somehow shook it again. Then he laughed.
What are you grinning at? Winton asked.
I was only thinkin of you being sent up to take a lickin from Pot. I swear I dont think its fair. Youve never shirked a game in your life, and youre as good as in the First Fifteen already. Your Cap ought to have been delivered last week, oughtnt it?
It was law in the school that no man could by any means enjoy the privileges and immunities of the First Fifteen till the black velvet cap with the gold tassel, made by dilatory Exeter outfitters, had been actually set on his head. Ages ago, a large-built and unruly Second Fifteen had attempted to change this law, but the prefects of that age were still larger, and the lively experiment had never been repeated.
Will you, said Winton very slowly , kindly mind your own damned business, you cursed, clumsy, fat-headed fool?
The form-room was as silent as the empty field in the darkness outside. Vernon shifted his feet uneasily.
Well, I shouldnt like to take a lickin from Pot, he said.
Wouldnt you? Winton asked, as he paged the sheets of lines with hands that shook.
No, I shouldnt, said Vernon, his freckles growing more distinct on the bridge of his white nose.
Well, Im going to take itWinton moved clear of the desk as he spoke. But youre going to take a lickin from me first. Before any one realised it, he had flung himself neighing against Vernon. No decencies were observed on either side, and the rest looked on amazed. The two met confusedly, Vernon trying to do what he could with his longer reach; Winton, insensible to blows, only concerned to drive his enemy into a corner and batter him to pulp. This he managed over against the fireplace, where Vernon dropped half-stunned. Now Im going to give you your lickin, said Winton. Lie there till I get a ground-ash and Ill cut you to pieces. If you move, Ill chuck you out of the window. He wound his hands into the boys collar and waistband, and had actually heaved him half off the ground before the others with one accord dropped on his head, shoulders, and legs. He fought them crazily in an awful hissing silence, Stalkys sensitive nose was rubbed along the floor; Beetle received a jolt in the wind that sent him whistling and crowing against the wall; Perownes forehead was cut, and Malpass came out with an eye that explained itself like a dying rainbow through a whole week.
Mad! Quite mad! said Stalky, and for the third time wriggled back to Wintons throat. The door opened and King came in, Hartopps little figure just behind him. The mound on the floor panted and heaved but did not rise, for Winton still squirmed vengefully. Only a little play, sir, said Perowne. Only hit my head against a form. This was quite true.
Oh, said King. Dimovit obstantes propinquos. You, I presume, are the populus delaying Wintons return toMullins, eh?
No, sir, said Stalky behind his claret-coloured handkerchief. Were the maerentes amicos.
Not bad! You see, some of it sticks after all, King chuckled to Hartopp, and the two masters left without further inquiries.
The boys sat still on the now passive Winton.
Well, said Stalky at last, of all the putrid he-asses, Pater, you are the
Im sorry. Im awfully sorry, Winton began, and they let him rise. He held out his hand to the bruised and bewildered Vernon. Sorry, Paddy. II must have lost my temper. II dont know whats the matter with me.
Fat lot of good thatll do my face at tea, Vernon grunted. Why couldnt you say there was something wrong with you instead of lamming out like a lunatic? Is my lip puffy?
Just a trifle. Look at my beak! Well, we got all these pretty marks at footer-owin to the zeal with which we played the game, said Stalky, dusting himself. But dyou think youre fit to be let loose again, Pater? Sure you dont want to kill another sub-prefect? I wish I was Pot. Id cut your sprightly young soul out.
I spose I ought to go to Pot now, said Winton.
And let all the other asses see you lookin like this! Not much. Well all come up to Number Five Study and wash off in hot water. Beetle, you arent damaged. Go along and light the gasstove.
Theres a tin of cocoa in my study somewhere, Perowne shouted after him. Rootle round till you find it, and take it up.
Separately, by different roads, Vernons jersey pulled half over his head, the boys repaired to Number Five Study. Little Hartopp and King, I am sorry to say, leaned over the banisters of Kings landing and watched.
Ve-ry human, said little Hartopp. Your virtuous Winton, having got himself into trouble, takes it out of my poor old Paddy. I wonder what precise lie Paddy will tell about his face.
But surely you arent going to embarrass him by asking? said King.
Your boy won, said Hartopp.
To go back to what we were discussing, said King quickly, do you pretend that your modern system of inculcating unrelated facts about chlorine, for instance, all of which may be proved fallacies by the time the boys grow up, can have any real bearing on educationeven the low type of it that examiners expect?
I maintain nothing. But is it any worse than your Chinese reiteration of uncomprehended syllables in a dead tongue?
Dead, forsooth! King fairly danced. The only living tongue on earth! Chinese! On my word, Hartopp!
And at the end of seven yearshow often have I said it? Hartopp went on,seven years of two hundred and twenty days of six hours each, your victims go away with nothing, absolutely nothing, except, perhaps, if theyve been very attentive, a dozenno, Ill grant you twentyone score of totally unrelated Latin tags which any child of twelve could have absorbed in two terms.
Butbut cant you realise that if our system brings laterat any rateat a pinch-a simple understandinggrammar and Latinity aparta mere glimpse of the significance (foul word!) of, well say, one Ode of Horace, one twenty lines of Virgil, weve got what we poor devils of ushers are striving after?
And what might that be? said Hartopp.
Balance, proportion, perspectivelife. Your scientific man is the unrelated animalthe beast without background. Havent you ever realised that in your atmosphere of stinks?
Meantime you make them lose life for the sake of living, eh?
Blind again, Hartopp! I told you about Paddys quotation this morning. (But he made probrosis a verb, he did!) You yourself heard young Corkrans reference to maerentes amicos. It sticksa little of it sticks among the barbarians.
Absolutely and essentially Chinese, said little Hartopp, who, alone of the common-room, refused to be outfaced by King. But I dont yet understand how Paddy came to be licked by Winton. Paddys supposed to be something of a boxer.
Beware of vinegar made from honey, King replied. Pater, like some other people, is patient and long-suffering, but he has his limits. The Head is oppressing him damnably, too. As I pointed out, the boy has practically been in the First Fifteen since term began.
But, my dear fellow, Ive known you give a boy an impot and refuse him leave off games, again and again.
Ah, but that was when there was real need to get at some oaf who couldnt be sensitised in any other way. Now, in our esteemed Heads action I see nothing but
The conversation from this point does not concern us.
Meantime Winton, very penitent and especially polite towards Vernon, was being cheered with cocoa in Number Five Study. They had some difficulty in stemming the flood of his apologies. He himself pointed out to Vernon that he had attacked a sub-prefect for no reason whatever, and, therefore, deserved official punishment.
I cant think what was the matter with me to-day, he mourned. Ever since that blasted mouse business
Well, then, dont think, said Stalky. Or do you want Paddy to make a row about it before all the school?
Here Vernon was understood to say that he would see Winton and all the school somewhere else.
And if you imagine Perowne and Malpass and me are goin to give evidence at a prefects meeting just to soothe your beastly conscience, you jolly well err, said Beetle. I know what you did.
What? croaked Pater, out of the valley of his humiliation.
You went Berserk. Ive read all about it in Hypatia.
Whats going Berserk? Winton asked.
Never you mind, was the reply. Now, dont you feel awfully weak and seedy?
I am rather tired, said Winton, sighing.
Thats what you ought to be. Youve gone Berserk and pretty soon youll go to sleep. But youll probably be liable to fits of it all your life, Beetle concluded. Shouldnt wonder if you murdered some one some day.
Shut upyou and your Berserks! said Stalky. Go to Mullins now and get it over, Pater.
I call it filthy unjust of the Head, said Vernon. Anyhow, youve given me my lickin, old man. I hope Potll give you yours.
Im awfully sorryawfully sorry, was Wintons last word.
It was the custom in that consulship to deal with games defaulters between five oclock call-over and tea. Mullins, who was old enough to pity, did not believe in letting boys wait through the night till the chill of the next morning for their punishments. He was finishing off the last of the small fry and their excuses when Winton arrived.
But, please, Mullinsthis was Babcock tertius, a dear little twelve-year-old mothers darlingI had an awful hack on the knee. Ive been to the Matron about it and she gave me some iodine. Ive been rubbing it in all day. I thought that would be an excuse off
Lets have a look at it, said the impassive Mullins. Thats a shin-bruiseabout a week old. Touch your toes. Ill give you the iodine.
Babcock yelled loudly as he had many times before. The face of Jevons, aged eleven, a new boy that dark wet term, low in the House, low in the Lower School, and lowest of all in his homesick little mind, turned white at the horror of the sight. They could hear his working lips part stickily as Babcock wailed his way out of hearing.
Hullo, Jevons! What brings you here? said Mullins.
Pl-ease, sir, I went for a walk with Babcock tertius.
Did you? Then I bet you went to the tuckshopand you paid, didnt you?
A nod. Jevons was too terrified to speak.
Of course, and I bet Babcock told you that old Pot ud let you off because it was the first time.
Another nod with a ghost of a smile in it.
All right. Mullins picked Jevons up before he could guess what was coming, laid him on the table with one hand, with the other gave him three emphatic spanks, then held him high in air.
Now you tell Babcock tertius that hes got you a licking from me, and see you jolly well pay it back to him. And when youre prefect of games dont you let any one shirk his footer without a written excuse. Where dyou play in your game?
Forward, sir.
You can do better than that. Ive seen you run like a young buck-rabbit. Ask Dickson from me to try you as three-quarter next game, will you? Cut along.
Jevons left, warm for the first time that day, enormously set up in his own esteem, and very hot against the deceitful Babcock.
Mullins turned to Winton. Your names on the list, Pater. Winton nodded.
I know it. The Head landed me with an impot for that mouse-business at mechanical drawing. No excuse.
He meant it then? Mullins jerked his head delicately towards the ground-ash on the table. I heard something about it.
Winton nodded. A rotten thing to do, he said. Cant think what I was doing ever to do it. It counts against a fellow so; and theres some more too
All right, Pater. Just stand clear of our photobracket, will you?
The little formality over, there was a pause. Winton swung round, yawned in Pots astonished face and staggered towards the window-seat.
Whats the matter with you, Dick? Ill?
No. Perfectly all right, thanks. Onlyonly a little sleepy. Winton stretched himself out, and then and there fell deeply and placidly asleep.
It isnt a faint, said the experienced Mullins, or his pulse wouldnt act. Tisnt a fit or hed snort and twitch. It cant be sunstroke, this term, and he hasnt been over-training for anything. He opened Wintons collar, packed a cushion under his head, threw a rug over him and sat down to listen to the regular breathing. Before long Stalky arrived, on pretence of borrowing a book. He looked at the window-seat.
Noticed anything wrong with Winton lately? said Mullins.
Notice anything wrong with my beak? Stalky replied. Pater went Berserk after call-over, and fell on a lot of us for jesting with him about his impot. You ought to see Malpasss eye.
You mean that Pater fought? said Mullins.
Like a devil. Then he nearly went to sleep in our study just now. I expect hell be all right when he wakes up. Rummy business! Conscientious old bargee. You ought to have heard his apologies.
But Pater cant fight one little bit, Mullins repeated.
Twasnt fighting. He just tried to murder every one. Stalky described the affair, and when he left Mullins went off to take counsel with the Head, who, out of a cloud of blue smoke, told him that all would yet be well.
Winton, said he, is a little stiff in his moral joints. Hell get over that. If he asks you whether to-days doings will count against him in his
But you know its important to him, sir. His people arentvery well off, said Mullins.
Thats why Im taking all this trouble. You must reassure him, Pot. I have overcrowded him with new experiences. Oh, by the way, has his Cap come?
It came at dinner, sir. Mullins laughed.
Sure enough, when he waked at tea-time, Winton proposed to take Mullins all through every one of his days lapses from grace, and Do you think it will count against me? said he.
Dont you fuss so much about yourself and your silly career, said Mullins. Youre all right. And ohheres your First Cap at last. Shove it up on the bracket and come on to tea.
They met King on their way, stepping statelily and rubbing his hands. I have applied, said he, for the services of an additional sub-prefect in Cartons unlamented absence. Your name, Winton, seems to have found favour with the powers that be, andand all things consideredI am disposed to give my support to the nomination. You are therefore a quasi-lictor.
Then it didnt count against me, Winton gasped as soon as they were out of hearing.
A Captain of Games can jest with a sub-prefect publicly.
You utter ass! said Mullins, and caught him by the back of his stiff neck and ran him down to the hall where the sub-prefects, who sit below the salt, made him welcome with the economical bloater-paste of mid-term.
Characterproportionbackground, snarled King. That is the essence of the Humanities.
Analects of Confucius, little Hartopp answered,
Time, said the Reverend John behind the soda-water. You men oppress me. Hartopp, what did you say to Paddy in your dormitories to-night? Even you couldnt have overlooked his face.
But I did, said Hartopp calmly. I wasnt even humorous about it, as some clerics might have been. I went straight through and said naught.
Poor Paddy! Now, for my part, said King, and you know I am not lavish in my praises, I consider Winton a first-class type; absolutely first-class.
Ha-ardly, said the Reverend John. First-class of the second class, I admit. The very best type of second class buthe shook his headit should have been a rat. Paterll never be anything more than a Colonel of Engineers.
What do you base that verdict on? said King stiffly.
He came to me after prayerswith all his conscience.
Poor old Pater. Was it the mouse? said little Hartopp.
That, and what he called his uncontrollable temper, and his responsibilities as sub-prefect.
And you?
If we had had what is vulgarly called a pi-jaw hed have had hysterics. So I recommended a dose of Epsom salts. Hell take it, tooconscientiously. Dont eat me, King. Perhaps hell be a K.C.B.
Ten oclock struck and the Army class boys in the further studies coming to their houses after an hours extra work passed along the gravel path below. Some one was chanting, to the tune of White sand and grey sand, Dis to minorem quod geris imperas. He stopped outside Mullins study. They heard Mullins window slide up and then Stalkys voice:
Ah! Good-evening, Mullins, my barbarus tortor. Were the waits. We have come to inquire after the local Berserk. Is he doin as well as can be expected in his new caree-ah?
Better than you will, in a sec, Stalky, Mullins grunted.
Glad of that. We thought hed like to know that Paddy has been carried to the sick-house in ravin delirium. They think its concussion of the brain.
Why, he was all right at prayers, Winton began earnestly, and they heard a laugh in the background as Mullins slammed down the window.
Night, Regulus, Stalky sang out, and the light footsteps went on.
You see. It sticks. A little of it sticks among the barbarians, said King.
Amen, said the Reverend John. Go to bed.
THERE are whose study is of smells, And to attentive schools rehearse How something mixed with something else Makes something worse.
Some cultivate in broths impure
Others the heated wheel extol,
Me, much incurious if the hour
Me, in whose breast no flame hath burned
More than when, sunk in thought profound |
Ah! What avails the classic bent, And what the chosen word, Against the undoctored incident That actually occurred?
And what is Art whereto we press |
HI! Hi! Hold your horses! Stop! . . . Well! Well! A lean man in a sable-lined overcoat leaped from a private car and barred my way up Pall Mall. You dont know me? Youre excusable. I wasnt wearing much of anything last time we metin South Africa.
The scales fell from my eyes, and I saw him once more in a sky-blue army shirt, behind barbed wire, among Dutch prisoners bathing at Simonstown, more than a dozen years ago. Why, its ZiglerLaughton O. Zigler! I cried. Well, I am glad to see you.
Oh no! You dont work any of your English on me. So glad to see you, doncher knowan ta-ta! Do you reside in this village?
No. Im up here buying stores.
Then you take my automobile. Where to? . . . Oh, I know them! My Lord Marshalton is one of the Directors. Pigott, drive to the Army and Navy Co-operative Supply Association Limited, Victoria Street, Westminister.
He settled himself on the deep dove-colour pneumatic cushions, and his smile was like the turning on of all the electrics. His teeth were whiter than the ivory fittings. He smelt of rare soap and cigarettessuch cigarettes as he handed me from a golden box with an automatic lighter. On my side of the car was a gold-mounted mirror, card and toilette case. I looked at him inquiringly.
Yes, he nodded, two years after I quit the Cape. Shes not an Ohio girl, though. Shes in the country now. Is that right? Shes at our little place in the country. Well go there as soon as youre through with your grocery-list. Engagements? The only engagement youve got is to grab your gripget your bag from your hotel, I meanand come right along and meet her. You are the captive of my bow and spear now.
I surrender, I said meekly. Did the Zigler automatic gun do all this? I pointed to the car fittings.
Psha! Think of your rernemberin that! Well, no. The Zigler is a great gunthe greatest everbut lifes too short, an too interestin, to squander on pushing her in military society. Ive leased my rights in her to a Pennsylvanian-Transylvanian citizen full of mentality and moral uplift. If those things weigh with the Chancelleries of Europe, he will make good andI shall be surprised. Excuse me!
He bared his head as we passed the statue of the Great Queen outside Buckingham Palace.
A very great lady! said he. I have enjoyed her hospitality. She represents one of the most wonderful institutions in the world. The next is the one we are going to. Mrs. Zigler uses em, and they break her up every week on returned empties.
Oh, you mean the Stores? I said.
Mrs. Zigler means it more. They are quite ambassadorial in their outlook. I guess Ill wait outside and pray while you wrestle with em.
My business at the Stores finished, and my bag retrieved from the hotel, his moving palace slid us into the country.
I owe it to you, Zigler began as smoothly as the car, to tell you what I am now. I represent the business end of the American Invasion. Not the blame cars themselvesI wouldnt be found dead in onebut the tools that make em. I am the Zigler Higher-Speed Tool and Lathe Trust. The Trust, sir, is entirely my ownin my own inventions. I am the Renzalaer ten-cylinder aerialthe lightest aeroplane-engine on the marketone price, one power, one guarantee. I am the Orlebar Paper-welt, Pulp-panel Company for aeroplane bodies; and I am the Rush Silencer for military aeroplanesabsolutely silentwhich the Continent leases under royalty. With three exceptions, the British arent wise to it yet. Thats all I represent at present. You saw me take off my hat to your late Queen? I owe every cent I have to that great an good Lady. Yes, sir, I came out of Africa, after my eighteen months rest-cure and open-air treatment and sea-bathing, as her prisoner of war, like a giant refreshed. There wasnt anything could hold me, when Id got my hooks into it, after that experience. And to you as a representative British citizen, I say here and now that I regard you as the founder of the family fortuneTommys and mine.
But I only gave you some papers and tobacco.
What more does any citizen need? The Cullinan diamond wouldnt have helped me as much then; antalking about South Africa, tell me
We talked about South Africa till the car stopped at the Georgian lodge of a great park.
Well get out here. I want to show you a rather sightly view, said Zigler.
We walked, perhaps, half a mile, across timber-dotted turf, past a lake, entered a dark rhododendron-planted wood, ticking with the noise of pheasants feet, and came out suddenly, where five rides met, at a small classic temple between lichened stucco statues which faced a circle of turf, several acres in extent. Irish yews, of a size that I had never seen before, walled the sunless circle like cliffs of riven obsidian, except at the lower end, where it gave on to a stretch of undulating bare ground ending in a timbered slope half-a-mile away.
Thats where the old Marshalton race-course used to be, said Zigler. That ice-house is called Floras Temple. Nell Gwynne and Mrs. Siddons an Tagliom an all that crowd used to act plays here for King George the Third. Wasnt it? Well, George is the only king I play. Let it go at that. This circle was the stage, I guess. The kings an the nobility sat in Floras Temple. I forget who sculped these statues at the door. Theyre the Comic and Tragic Muse. But its a sightly view, aint it?
The sunlight was leaving the park. I caught a glint of silver to the southward beyond the wooded ridge.
Thats the oceanthe Channel, I mean, said Zigler. Its twenty-three miles as a man flies. A sightly view, aint it?
I looked at the severe yews, the dumb yelling mouths of the two statues, at the blue-green shadows on the unsunned grass, and at the still bright plain in front where some deer were feeding.
Its a most dramatic contrast, but I think it would be better on a summers day, I said, and we went on, up one of the noiseless rides, a quarter of a mile at least, till we came to the porticoed front of an enormous Georgian pile. Four footmen revealed themselves in a hall hung with pictures.
I hired this off of my Lord Marshalton, Zigler explained, while they helped us out of our coats under the severe eyes of ruffed and periwigged ancestors. Ya-as. They always look at me too, as if Id blown in from the gutter. Which, of course, I have. Thats Mary, Lady Marshalton. Old man Joshua painted her. Do you see any likeness to my Lord Marshalton? Why, havent you ever met up with him? He was Captain Mankeltowmy Royal British Artillery captain that blew up my gun in the war, an then tried to bury me against my religious principles. Ya-as. His father died and he got the lordship. That was about all he got by the time that your British death-duties were through with him. So he said Id oblige him by hiring his ranch. Its a hell an a half of a proposition to handle, but TommyMrs. Laughtonunderstands it. Come right in to the parlour and be very welcome.
He guided me, hand on shoulder, into a babble of high-pitched talk and laughter that filled a vast drawing-room. He introduced me as the founder of the family fortunes to a little, lithe, dark-eyed woman whose speech and greeting were of the soft-lipped South. She in turn presented me to her mother, a black-browed, snowy-haired old lady with a cap of priceless Venetian point, hands that must have held many hearts in their time, and a dignity as unquestioned and unquestioning as an empress. She was, indeed, a Burton of Savannah, who, on their own ground, out-rank the Lees of Virginia. The rest of the company came from Buffalo, Cincinnati, Cleveland and Chicago, with here and there a softening southern strain. A party of young folk popped corn beneath a mantelpiece surmounted by a Gainsborough. Two portly men, half hidden by a cased harp, discussed, over sheaves of typewritten documents, the terms of some contract. A knot of matrons talked servantsIrish versus Germanacross the grand piano. A youth ravaged an old bookcase, while beside him a tall girl stared at the portrait of a woman of many loves, dead three hundred years, but now leaping to life and warning under the shaded frame-light. In a corner half-a-dozen girls examined the glazed tables that held the decorationsEnglish and foreignof the late Lord Marshalton.
See heah! Would this be the Ordeh of the Gyartah? one said, pointing.
I presoom likely. No! The Garter has Honey sworeI know that much. This is Tria juncta something.
Oh, whats that cunning little copper cross with For Valurr? a third cried.
Say! Look at here! said the young man at the bookcase. Heres a first edition of Handley Cross and a Beewicks Birds right next to itjust like so many best sellers. Look, Maidie!
The girl beneath the picture half turned her body but not her eyes.
You dont tell me! she said slowly. Their women amounted to something after all.
But Womans scope and outlook was vurry limmutted in those days, one of the matrons put in, from the piano.
Limutted? For her? If they whurr, I guess she was the limmut. Who was she? Peters, whurrs the catlog?
A thin butler, in charge of two footmen removing the tea-batteries, slid to a table and handed her a blue-and-gilt book. He was button-holed by one of the men behind the harp, who wished to get a telephone call through to Edinburgh.
The local office shuts at six, said Peters. But I can get through tohe named some townin ten minutes, sir.
That suits me. Youll find me here when youve hitched up. Oh, say, Peters! WeMister Olpherts an meaint goin by that early morning train to-morrowbut the other oneon the other linewhatever they call it.
The nine twenty-seven, sir. Yes, sir. Early breakfast will be at half-past eight and the car will be at the door at nine.
Peters! an imperious young voice called. Whats the matteh with Lord Marshaltons Ordeh of the Gyartah? We cyant find it anywheah.
Well, miss, I have heard that that Order is usually returned to His Majesty on the death of the holder. Yes, miss. Then in a whisper to a footman, More butter for the pop-corn in King Charless Corner. He stopped behind my chair. Your room is Number Eleven, sir. May I trouble you for your keys?
He left the room with a six-year-old maiden called Alice who had announced she would not go to bed less Peter, Peter, Punkin-eater takes meso there!
He very kindly looked in on me for a moment as I was dressing for dinner. Not at all, sir, he replied to some compliment I paid him. I valeted the late Lord Marshalton for fifteen years. He was very abrupt in his movements, sir. As a rule I never received more than an hours notice of a journey. We used to go to Syria frequently. I have been twice to Babylon. Mr. and Mrs. Ziglers requirements are, comparatively speaking, few.
But the guests?
Very little out of the ordinary as soon as one knows their ordinaries. Extremely simple, if I may say so, sir.
I had the privilege of taking Mrs. Burton in to dinner, and was rewarded with an entirely new, and to me rather shocking, view of Abraham Lincoln, who, she said, had wasted the heritage of his land by blood and fire, and had surrendered the remnant to aliens. My brother, suh, she said, fell at Gettysburg in order that Armenians should colonise New England to-day. If I took any interest in any dam-Yankee outside of my son-in-law Laughton yondah, I should say that my brothers death had been amply avenged.
The man at her right took up the challenge, and the war spread. Her eyes twinkled over the flames she had lit.
Dont these folk, she said a little later, remind you of Arabs picnicking under the Pyramids?
Ive never seen the Pyramids, I replied.
Hm! I didnt know you were as English as all that. And when I laughed, Are you?
Always. It saves trouble.
Now thats just what I find so significant among the Englishthis was Alices mother, I think, with one elbow well forward among the salted almonds. Oh, I know how you feel, Madam Burton, but a Northerner like myselfIm Buffaloeven though we come over every yearnotices the desire for comfort in England. Theres so little conflict or uplift in British society.
But we like being comfortable, I said.
I know it. Its very characteristic. But aint it a little, just a little, lacking in adaptability an imagination?
They havent any need for adaptability, Madam Burton struck in. They havent any Ellis Island standards to live up to.
But we can assimilate, the Buffalo woman charged on.
Now you have done it! I whispered to the old lady as the blessed word assimilation woke up all the old arguments for and against.
There was not a dull moment in that dinner for menor afterwards when the boys and girls at the piano played the rag-time tunes of their own land, while their elders, inexhaustibly interested, replunged into the discussion of that lands future, till there was talk of coon-can. When all the company had been set to tables Zigler led me into his book-lined study, where I noticed he kept his golf-clubs, and spoke simply as a child, gravely as a bishop, of the years that were past since our last meeting . . . .
Thats about all, I guessup to date, he said when he had unrolled the bright map of his fortunes across three continents. Bein rich suits me. So does your country, sir. My own country? You heard what that Detroit man said at dinner. A Government of the alien, by the alien, for the alien. Mothers right, too. Lincoln killed us. From the highest motivesbut he killed us. Oh, say, that reminds me. Jever kill a man from the highest motives?
Not from any motiveas far as I remember.
Well, I have. It dont weigh on my mind any, but it was interesting. Life is interesting for a richfor anyman in England. Ya-as! Life in England is like settin in the front row at the theatre and never knowin when the whole blame drama wont spill itself into your lap. I didnt always know that. I lie abed now, and I blush to think of some of the breaks I made in South Africa. About the British. Not your official method of doin business. But the Spirit. I was way, way off on the Spirit. Are you acquainted with any other country where youd have to kill a man or two to get at the National Spirit?
Well, I answered, next to marrying one of its women, killing one of its men makes for pretty close intimacy with any country. I take it you killed a British citizen.
Why, no. Our syndicate confined its operations to aliensdam-fool aliens . . . . Jever know an English lord called Lundie? Looks like a frame-food and soap advertisement. I imagine he was in your Supreme Court before he came into his lordship.
He is a lawyerwhat we call a Law Lorda Judge of Appealnot a real hereditary lord.
Thats as much beyond me as this! Zigler slapped a fat Debrett on the table. But I presoom this unreal Law Lord Lundie is kind o real in his decisions? I judged so. Andone more question. Ever meet a man called Walen?
Dyou mean Burton-Walen, the editor of , I mentioned the journal.
Thats him. Looks like a tough, talks like a Maxim, and trains with kings.
He does, I said. Burton-Walen knows all the crowned heads of Europe intimately. Its his hobby.
Well, theres the whole outfit for youexceptin my Lord Marshalton, né Mankeltow, an me. All active murderersspecially the Law Lordor accessories after the fact. And what do they hand you out for that, in this country?
Twenty years, I believe, was my reply.
He reflected a moment.
No-o-o, he said, and followed it with a smoke-ring. Twenty months at the Cape is my limit. Say, murder aint the soul-shatterin event those nature-fakers in the magazines make out. It develops naturally like any other proposition . . . . Say, jever play this golf game? Its come up in the States from Maine to California, an were prodoocin all the champions in sight. Not a business mans play, but interestin. Ive got a golf-links in the park here that they tell me is the finest inland course ever. I had to pay extra for that when I hired the ranchelast year. It was just before I signed the papers that our murder eventuated. My Lord Marshalton he asked me down for the week-end to fix up something or otherabout Peters and the linen, I think twas. Mrs. Zigler took a holt of the proposition. She understood Peters from the word go. There wasnt any house-party; only fifteen or twenty folk. A full house is thirty-two, Tommy tells me. Guess we must be near on that to-night. In the smoking-room here, my Lord MarshaltonMankeltow that wasintroduces me to this Walen man with the nose. Hed been in the War too, from start to finish. He knew all the columns and generals that Id battled with in the days of my Zigler gun. We kinder fell into each others arms an let the harsh world go by for a while.
Walen he introduces me to your Lord Lundie. He was a new proposition to me. If he hadnt been a lawyer hed have made a lovely cattle-king. I thought I had played poker some. Another of my breaks. Ya-as! It cost me eleven hundred dollars besides what Tommy said when I retired. I have no fault to find with your hereditary aristocracy, or your judiciary, or your press.
Sunday we all went to Church across the Park here . . . . Psha! Think o your rememberin my religion! Ive become an Episcopalian since I married. Ya-as. . . . After lunch Walen did his crowned-heads-of-Europe stunt in the smokin-room here. He was long on Kings. And Continental crises. I do not pretend to follow British domestic politics, but in the aeroplane business a man has to know something of international possibilities. At present, you British are settin in kimonoes on dynamite kegs. Walens talk put me wise on the location and size of some of the kegs. Ya-as!
After that, we four went out to look at those golf-links I was hirin. We each took a club. Minehe glanced at a great tan bag by the fireplacewas the beginners friendthe cleek. Well, sir, this golf proposition took a holt of me as quick asquick as death. They had to prise me off the greens when it got too dark to see, and then we went back to the house. I was walkin ahead with my Lord Marshalton talkin beginners golf. (I was the man who ought to have been killed by rights.) We cut cross lots through the woods to Floras Templethat place I showed you this afternoon. Lundie and Walen were, maybe, twenty or thirty rod behind us in the dark. Marshalton and I stopped at the theatre to admire at the ancestral yew-trees. He took me right under the biggestKing Somebodys Yewand while I was spannin it with my handkerchief, he says, Look heah! just as if it was a rabbitand down comes a bi-plane into the theatre with no more noise than the dead. My Rush Silencer is the only one on the market that allows that sort of gumshoe work . . . . What? A bi-planewith two men in it. Both men jump out and start fussin with the engines. I was starting to tell MankeltowI cant remember to call him Marshalton any morethat it looked as if the Royal British Flying Corps had got on to my Rush Silencer at last; but he steps out from under the yew to these two Stealthy Steves and says, Whats the trouble? Can I be of any service? He thoughtso did Itwas some of the boys from Aldershot or Salisbury. Well, sir, from there on, the situation developed like a motion-picture in Hell. The man on the nigh side of the machine whirls round, pulls his gun and fires into Mankeltows face. I laid him out with my cleek automatically. Any one who shoots a friend of mine gets whats comin to him if Im within reach. He drops. Mankeltow rubs his neck with his handkerchief. The man the far side of the machine starts to run. Lundie down the ride, or it might have been Walen, shouts, Whats happened? Mankeltow says, Collar that chap.
The second man runs ring-a-ring-o-roses round the machine, one hand reachin behind him. Mankeltow heads him off to rne. He breaks blind for Walen and Lundie, who are runnin up the ride. Theres some sort of mix-up among em, which its too dark to see, and a thud. Walen says, Oh, well collared! Lundie says, Thats the only thing I never learned at Harrow! . . . Mankeltow runs up to em, still rubbin his neck, and says, He didnt fire at me. It was the other chap. Where is he?
Ive stretched him alongside his machine, I says.
Are they poachers? says Lundie.
No. Airmen. I cant make it out, says Mankeltow.
Look at here, says Walen, kind of brusque. This man aint breathin at all. Didnt you hear somethin crack when he lit, Lundie?
My God! says Lundie. Did I? I thought it was my suspendersno, he said braces.
Right there I left them and sort o tip-toed back to my man, hopin hed revived and quit. But he hadnt. That darned cleek had hit him on the back of the neck just where his helmet stopped. Hed got his. I knew it by the way the head rolled in my hands. Then the others came up the ride totin their load. No mistakin that shuffle on grass. Dyou remember itin South Africa? Ya-as.
Hsh! says Lundie. Do you know Ive broken this mans neck?
Same here, I says.
What? Both? says Mankeltow.
Nonsense! says Lord Lundie. Whod have thought he was that out of training? A man oughtnt to fly if he aint fit.
What did they want here, anyway? said Walen; and Mankeltow says, We cant leave them in the open. Someonell come. Carryem to Floras Temple.
We toted em again and laid em out on a stone bench. They was still dead in spite of our best attentions. We knew it, but we went through the motions till it was quite dark. Wonder if all murderers do that? We want a light on this, says Walen after a spell. There ought to be one in the machine. Why didnt they light it?
We came out of Floras Temple, and shut the doors behind us. Some stars were showing thensame as when Cain did his little act, I guess. I climbed up and searched the machine. She was very well equipped. I found two electric torches in clips alongside her barometers by the rear seat.
What make is she? says Mankeltow.
Continental Renzalaer, I says. My engines and my Rush Silencer.
Walen whistles. Herelet me look, he says, and grabs the other torch. She was sure well equipped. We gathered up an armful of cameras an maps an note-books an an album of mounted photographs which we took to Floras Temple and spread on a marble-topped table (Ill show you to-morrow) which the King of Naples had presented to grandfather Marshalton. Walen starts to go through em. We wanted to know why our friends had been so prejudiced against our society.
Wait a minute, says Lord Lundie. Lend me a handkerchief.
He pulls out his own, and Walen contributes his green-and-red bandanna, and Lundie covers their faces. Now, he says, well go into the evidence.
There wasnt any flaw in that evidence. Walen read out their last observations, and Mankeltow asked questions, and Lord Lundie sort o summarised, and I looked at the photos in the album. Jever see a birds-eye telephoto-survey of England for military purposes? Its interestin but indecentlike turnin a man upside down. None of those close-range panoramas of forts could have been taken without my Rush Silencer.
I wish we was as thorough as they are, says Mankeltow, when Walen stopped translatin.
Weve been thorough enough, says Lord Lundie. The evidence against both accused is conclusive. Any other country would give em seven years in a fortress. We should probably give em eighteen months as first-class misdemeanants. But their case, he says, is out of our hands. We must review our own. Mr. Zigler, he said, will you tell us what steps you took to bring about the death of the first accused? I told him. He wanted to know specially whether Id stretched first accused before or after he had fired at Mankeltow. Mankeltow testified hed been shot at, and exhibited his neck as evidence. It was scorched.
Now, Mr. Walen, says Lord Lundie. Will you kindly tell us what steps you took with regard to the second accused?
The man ran directly at me, me lord, says Walen. I said, Oh no, you dont, and hit him in the face.
Lord Lundie lifts one hand and uncovers second accuseds face. There was a bruise on one cheek and the chin was all greened with grass. He was a heavy-built man.
What happened after that? says Lord Lundie.
To the best of my remembrance he turned from me towards your lordship.
Then Lundie goes ahead. I stooped, and caught the man round the ankles, he says. The sudden check threw him partially over my left shoulder. I jerked him off that shoulder, still holding his ankles, and he fell heavily on, it would appear, the point of his chin, death being instantaneous.
Death being instantaneous, says Walen.
Lord Lundie takes off his gown and wigyou could see him do itand becomes our fellow-murderer. Thats our case, he says. I know how I should direct the jury, but its an undignified business for a Lord of Appeal to lift his hand to, and some of my learned brothers, he says, might be disposed to be facetious.
I guess I cant be properly sensitised. Any one who steered me out of that trouble might have had the laugh on me for generations. But Im only a millionaire. I said wed better search second accused in case hed been carryin concealed weapons.
That certainly is a point, says Lord Lundie. But the question for the jury would be whether I exercised more force than was necessary to prevent him from usin them. I didnt say anything. He wasnt talkin my language. Second accused had his gun on him sure enough, but it had jammed in his hip-pocket. He was too fleshy to reach behind for business purposes, and he didnt look a gun-man anyway. Both of em carried wads of private letters. By the time Walen had translated, we knew how many children the fat one had at home and when the thin one reckoned to be married. Too bad! Ya-as.
Says Walen to me while we was rebuttonin their jackets (they was not in uniform): Ever read a book called The Wreckers, Mr. Zigler?
Not that I recall at the present moment, I says.
Well, do, he says. Youd appreciate it. Youd appreciate it now, I assure you.
Ill remember, I says. But I dont see how this song and dance helps us any. Heres our corpses, heres their machine, and daylights bound to come.
Heavens! That reminds me, says Lundie. What times dinner?
Half-past eight, says Mankeltow. Its half-past five now. We knocked off golf at twenty to, and if they hadnt been such silly asses, firin pistols like civilians, wed have had them to dinner. Why, they might be sitting with us in the smoking-room this very minute, he says. Then he said that no man had a right to take his profession so seriously as these two mountebanks.
How interestin! says Lundie. Ive noticed this impatient attitude toward their victim in a good many murderers. I never understood it before. Of course, its the disposal of the body that annoys em. Now, I wonder, he says, who our case will come up before? Lets run through it again.
Then Walen whirls in. Hed been bitin his nails in a corner. We was all nerved up by now . . . . Me? The worst of the bunch. I had to think for Tommy as well.
We cant be tried, says Walen. We mustnt be tried! Itll make an infernal international stink. What did I tell you in the smoking-room after lunch? The tensions at breaking-point already. This ud snap it. Cant you see that?
I was thinking of the legal aspect of the case, says Lundie. With a good jury wed likely be acquitted.
Acquitted! says Walen. Whod dare acquit us in the face of what ud be demanded bythe other party? Did you ever hear of the War of Jenkins ear? Ever hear of Mason and Slidell? Ever hear of an ultimatum? You know who these two idiots are; you know who we area Lord of Appeal, a Viscount of the English peerage, and meme knowing all I know, which the men who know dam well know that I do know! Its our necks or Armageddon. Which do you think this Government would choose? We cant be tried! he says.
Then I expect Ill have to resign me club, Lundie goes on. I dont think thats ever been done before by an ex-officio member. I must ask the secretary. I guess he was kinder bunkered for the minute, or maybe twas the lordship comin out on him.
Rot! says Mankeltow. Walens right. We cant afford to be tried. Well have to bury them; but my head-gardener locks up all the tools at five oclock.
Not on your life! says Lundie. He was on deck againas the high-class lawyer. Right or wrong, if we attempt concealment of the bodies were done for.
Im glad of that, says Mankeltow, because, after all, it aint cricket to bury em.
Somehowbut I know I aint Englishthat consideration didnt worry me as it ought. An besides, I was thinkinI had toan Id begun to see a light way offa little glimmerin light o salvation.
Then what are we to do? says W alen. Zigler, what do you advise? Your necks in it too.
Gentlemen, I says, something Lord Lundie let fall a while back gives me an idea. I move that this committee empowers Big Claus and Little Claus, who have elected to commit suicide in our midst, to leave the premises as they came. Im asking you to take big chances, I says, but theyre all weve got, and then I broke for the bi-plane.
Dont tell me the English cant think as quick as the next man when its up to them! They lifted em out o Floras Templereverent, but not wastin timewhilst I found out what had brought her down. One cylinder was misfirin. I didnt stop to fix it. My Renzalaer will hold up on six. Weve proved that. If her crew had relied on my guarantees, theyd have been halfway home by then, instead of takin their seats with hangin heads like they was ashamed. They ought to have been ashamed too, playin gun-men in a British peers park! I took big chances startin her without controls, but twas a dead still night an a clear runyou saw itacross the Theatre into the park, and I prayed shed rise before she hit high timber. I set her all I dared for a quick lift. I told Mankeltow that if I gave her too much nose shed be liable to up-end and flop. He didnt want another inquest on his estate. No, sir! So I had to fix her up in the dark. Ya-as!
I took big chances, too, while those other three held on to her and I worked her up to full power. My Renzalaers no ventilation-fan to pull against. But I climbed out just in time. Id hitched the signallin lamp to her tail sos we could track her. Otherwise, with my Rush Silencer, we mights well have shooed an owl out of a barn. She left just that way when we let her go. No sound except the propellersWhoo-oo-oo! Whoo-oo-oo! There was a dip in the ground ahead. It hid her lamp for a secondbut theres no such thing as time in real life. Then that lamp travelled up the far slope slowtoo slow. Then it kinder lifted, we judged. Then it sure was liftin. Then it lifted good. Dyou know why? Our four naked perspirin souls was out there underneath her, hikin her heavens high. Yes, sir. We did it! . . . And that lamp kept liftin and liftin. Then she side-slipped! My God, she side-slipped twice, which was what Id been afraid of all along! Then she straightened up, and went away climbin to glory, for that blessed star of our hope got smaller and smaller till we couldnt track it any more. Then we breathed. We hadnt breathed any since their arrival, but we didnt know it till we breathed that timeall together. Then we dug our finger-nails out of our palms an came alive againin instalments.
Lundie spoke first. We therefore commit their bodies to the air, he says, an puts his cap on.
The deepthe deep, says Walen. Its just twenty-three miles to the Channel.
Poor chaps! Poor chaps! says Mankeltow. Wed have had em to dinner if they hadnt lost their heads. I cant tell you how this distresses me, Laughton.
Well, look at here, Arthur, I says. Its only Gods Own Mercy you an me aint lyin in Floras Temple now, and if that fat man had known enough to fetch his gun around while he was runnin, Lord Lundie and Walen would have been alongside us.
I see that, he says. But were alive and theyre dead, dont ye know.
I know it, I says. Thats where the dead are always so damned unfair on the survivors.
I see that too, he says. But Id have given a good deal if it hadnt happened, poor chaps!
Amen! says Lundie. Then? Oh, then we sorter walked back two an two to Floras Temple an lit matches to see we hadnt left anything behind. Walen, he had confiscated the note-books before they left. There was the first mans pistol, which wed forgot to return him, lyin on the stone bench. Mankeltow puts his hand on ithe never touched the triggeran, bein an automatic, of course the blame thing jarred offspiteful as a rattler!
Look out! Theyll have one of us yet, says Walen in the dark. But they didntthe Lord hadnt quit being our shepherdand we heard the bullet zip across the veldtquite like old times. Ya-as!
Swine! says Mankeltow.
After that I didnt hear any more Poor chap talk . . . . Me? I never worried about killing my man. I was too busy figurin how a British jury might regard the proposition. I guess Lundie felt that way too.
Oh, but say! We had an interestin time at dinner. Folks was expected whose auto had hung up on the road. They hadnt wired, and Peters had laid two extra places. We noticed em as soon as we sat down. Id hate to say how noticeable they were. Mankeltow with his neck bandaged (hed caught a relaxed throat golfin) sent for Peters and told him to take those empty places awayif you please. It takes something to rattle Peters. He was rattled that time. Nobody else noticed anything. And now . . .
Where did they come down? I asked, as he rose.
In the Channel, I guess. There was nothing in the papers about em. Shall we go into the drawin-room, and see what these boys and girls are doin? But say, aint life in England interestin?
IF ANY God should say I will restore The world her yesterday Whole as before My judgment blasted itwho would not lift Heart, eye, and hand in passion oer the gift?
If any God should will
If any God should give
For we are what we are
Yet we were what we were, |
MY instructions to Mr. Leggatt, my engineer, had been accurately obeyed. He was to bring my car on completion of annual overhaul, from Coventry via London, to Southampton Docks to await my arrival; and very pretty she looked, under the steamers side among the railway lines, at six in the morning. Next to her new paint and varnish I was most impressed by her four brand-new tyres.
But I didnt order new tyres, I said as we moved away. These are Irresilients, too.
Treble-ribbed, said Leggatt. Diamond-stud sheathing.
Then there has been a mistake.
Oh no, sir; theyre gratis.
The number of motor manufacturers who give away complete sets of treble-ribbed Irresilient tyres is so limited that I believe I asked Leggatt for an explanation.
I dont know that I could very well explain, sir, was the answer. It ud come better from Mr. Pyecroft. Hes on leaf at Portsmouthstaying with his uncle. His uncle ad the body all night. Id defy you to find a scratch on her even with a microscope.
Then we will go home by the Portsmouth road, I said.
And we went at those speeds which are allowed before the working-day begins or the police are thawed out. We were blocked near Portsmouth by a battalion of Regulars on the move.
Whitsuntide manuvres just ending, said Leggatt. Theyve had a fortnight in the Downs.
He said no more until we were in a narrow street somewhere behind Portsmouth Town Railway Station, where he slowed at a green-grocery shop. The door was open, and a small old man sat on three potato-baskets swinging his feet over a stooping blue back.
You call that shinin em? he piped. Can you see your face in em yet? No! Then shine em, or Ill give you a beltin youll remember!
If you stop kickin me in the mouth perhaps Id do better, said Pyecrofts voice meekly.
We blew the horn.
Pyecroft arose, put away the brushes, and received us not otherwise than as a king in his own country.
Are you going to leave me up here all day? said the old man.
Pyecroft lifted him down and he hobbled into the back room.
Its his corns, Pyecroft explained. You cant shine corny feetand he hasnt had his breakfast.
I havent had mine either, I said.
Breakfast for two more, uncle, Pyecroft sang out.
Go out an buy it then; was the answer, or else its half-rations.
Pyecroft turned to Leggatt, gave him his marketing orders, and despatched him with the coppers.
I have got four new tyres on my car, I began impressively.
Yes, said Mr. Pyecroft. You have, and I will sayhe patted my cars bonnetyou earned em.
I want to know why, I went on.
Quite justifiable. You havent noticed anything in the papers, have you?
Ive only just landed. I havent seen a paper for weeks.
Then you can lend me a virgin ear. Theres been a scandal in the junior Servicethe Army, I believe they call em.
A bag of coffee-beans pitched on the counter, Roast that, said the uncle from within.
Pyecroft rigged a small coffee-roaster, while I took down the shutters, and sold a young lady in curl-papers two bunches of mixed greens and one soft orange.
Sickly stuff to handle on an empty stomach, aint it? said Pyecroft.
What about my new tyres? I nsisted.
Oh, any amount. But the question ishe looked at me steadilyis this what you might call a court-martial or a post-mortem inquiry?
Strictly a post-mortem, said I.
That being so, said Pyecroft, we can rapidly arrive at facts. Last Thursdaythe shutters go behind those basketslast Thursday at five bells in the forenoon watch, otherwise ten-thirty a.m., your Mr. Leggatt was discovered on Westminster Bridge laying his course for the Old Kent Road.
But that doesnt lead to Southampton, Interrupted.
Then perhaps he was swinging the car for compasses. Be that as it may, we found him in that latitude, simultaneous as Jules and me was ong route for Waterloo to rejoin our respective shipsor Navies I should say. Jules was a permissionaire, which meant being on leaf, same as me, from a French cassowary-cruiser at Portsmouth. A party of her trusty and well-beloved petty officers ad been seeing London, chaperoned by the R.C. chaplain. Jules ad detached himself from the squadron and was cruisin on his own when I joined him, in company of copious lady-friends. But, mark you, your Mr. Leggatt drew the line at the girls. Loud and long he drew it.
Im glad of that, I said.
You may be. He adopted the puristical formation from the first. Yes, he said, when we was annealing him atbut you wouldnt know the pubI am going to Southampton, he says, and Ill stretch a point to go via Portsmouth; but, says he, seeing what sort of one hell of a time invariably trarnspires when we cruise together, Mr. Pyecroft, I do not feel myself justified towards my generous and long-suffering employer in takin on that kind of ballast as well. I assure you he considered your interests.
And the girls? I asked.
Oh, I left that to Jules. Im a monogomite by nature. So we embarked strictly ong garçong. But I should tell you, in case he didnt, that your Mr. Leggatts care for your interests ad extended to sheathing the car in matting and gunny-bags to preserve her paint-work. She was all swathed up like an I-talian baby.
He is careful about his paint-work, I said.
For a man with no Service experience I should say he was fair homicidal on the subject. If wed been Marines he couldnt have been more pointed in his allusions to our hob-nailed socks. However, we reduced him to a malleable condition, and embarked for Portsmouth. Id seldom rejoined my vaisseau ong automobile, avec a fur coat and goggles. Nor ad Jules.
Did Jules say much? I asked, helplessly turning the handle of the coffee-roaster.
Thats where I pitied the pore beggar. He adnt the language, so to speak. He was confined to heavings and shruggins and copious Mohg Jews! The French are very badly fitted with relief-valves. And then our Mr. Leggatt drove. He drove.
Was he in a very malleable condition?
Not him! We recognised the value of his cargo from the outset. He hadnt a chance to get more than moist at the edges. After which we went to sleep; and now well go to breakfast.
We entered the back room where everything was in order, and a screeching canary made us welcome. The uncle had added sausages and piles of buttered toast to the kippers. The coffee, cleared with a piece of fish-skin, was a revelation.
Leggatt, who seemed to know the premises, had run the car into the tiny backyard where her mirror-like back almost blocked up the windows. He minded shop while we ate. Pyecroft passed him his rations through a flap in the door. The uncle ordered him in, after breakfast, to wash up, and he jumped in his gaiters at the old mans commands as he has never jumped to mine.
To resoom the post-mortem, said Pyecroft, lighting his pipe. My slumbers were broken by the propeller ceasing to revolve, and by vile language from your Mr. Leggatt.
II Leggatt began, a blue-checked duster in one hand and a cup in the other.
When youre wanted aft youll be sent for, Mr. Leggatt, said Pyecroft amiably. Its clean mess decks for you now. Resooming once more, we was on a lonely and desolate ocean near Portsdown, surrounded by gorse bushes, and a Boy Scout was stirring my stomach with his little copper-stick.
You count ten, he says.
Very good, Boy Jones, I says, count em, and I hauled him in over the gunnel, and ten I gave him with my large flat hand. The remarks he passed, lying face down tryin to bite my leg, would have reflected credit on any Service. Having finished I dropped him overboard again, which was my gross political error. I ought to ave killed him; because he began signallingrapid and accuratein a sou westerly direction. Few equatorial calms are to be apprehended when B.P.s little pets take to signallin. Make a note o that! Three minutes later we were stopped and boarded by Scoutsup our backs, down our necks, and in our boots! The last I heard from your Mr. Leggatt as he went under, brushin em off his cap, was thanking Heaven hed covered up the new paint-work with mats. An eroic soul!
Not a scratch on her body, said Leggatt, pouring out the coffee-grounds.
And Jules? said I.
Oh, Jules thought the much advertised Social Revolution had begun, but his mackintosh hampered him.
You told me to bring the mackintosh, Leggatt whispered to me.
And when I ad em half convinced he was a French vicomte coming down to visit the Commander-in-Chief at Portsmouth, he tried to take it off. Seeing his uniform underneath, some sucking Sherlock Holmes of the Pink Eye Patrol (they called him Eddy) deduced that I wasnt speaking the truth. Eddy said I was tryin to sneak into Portsmouth unobservedunobserved mark you!and join hands with the enemy. It trarnspired that the Scouts was conducting a field-day against opposin forces, ably assisted by all branches of the Service, and they was so afraid the car wouldnt count ten points to them in the fray, that theyd have scalped us, but for the intervention of an umpirealso in short under-drawers. A fleshy sight!
Here Mr. Pyecroft shut his eyes and nodded. That umpire, he said suddenly, was our Mr. Morsheda gentleman whose acquaintance you have already made and profited by, if I mistake not.
Oh, was the Navy in it too? I said; for I had read of wild doings occasionally among the Boy Scouts on the Portsmouth Road, in which Navy, Army, and the world at large seemed to have taken part.
The Navy was in it. I was the only one out of itfor several seconds. Our Mr. Morshed failed to recognise me in my fur boa, and my appealin winks at im behind your goggles didnt arrive. But when Eddy darling had told his story, I saluted, which is difficult in furs, and I stated I was bringin him dispatches from the North. My Mr. Morshed cohered on the instant. Ive never known his ethergram installations out of order yet. Go and guard your blessed road, he says to the Fratton Orphan Asylum standing at attention all round him, and, when they was removedPyecroft, he says, still sotte voce, what in Hong-Kong are you doing with this dun-coloured sampan?
It was your Mr. Leggatts paint-protective matting which caught his eye. She did resemble a sampan, especially about the stern-works. At these remarks I naturally threw myself on is bosom, so far as Service conditions permitted, and revealed him all, mentioning that the car was yours. You know his way of working his lips like a rabbit? Yes, he was quite pleased. His car! he kept murmuring, working his lips like a rabbit. I owe im more than a trifle for things he wrote about me. Ill keep the car.
Your Mr. Leggatt now injected some semi-mutinous remarks to the effect that he was your chauffeur in charge of your car, and, as such, capable of so acting. Mr. Morshed threw him a glarnce. It sufficed. Didnt it suffice, Mr. Leggatt?
I knew if something didnt happen, something worse would, said Leggatt. It never fails when youre aboard.
And Jules? I demanded.
Jules was, so to speak, panicking in a water-tight flat through his unfortunate lack of language. I had to introduce him as part of the entente cordiale, and he was put under arrest, too. Then we sat on the grass and smoked, while Eddy and Co. violently annoyed the traffic on the Portsmouth Road, till the umpires, all in short panties, conferred on the valuable lessons of the field-day and added up points, same as at target-practice. I didnt hear their conclusions, but our Mr. Morshed delivered a farewell address to Eddy and Co., tellin em they ought to have deduced from a hundred signs about me, that I was a friendly bringin in dispatches from the North. We left em tryin to find those signs in the Scout book, and we reached Mr. Morsheds hotel at Portsmouth at 6.27 p.m. ong automobile. Here endeth the first chapter.
Begin the second, I said.
The uncle and Leggatt had finished washing up and were seated, smoking, while the damp duster dried at the fire.
About what time was it, said Pyecroft to Leggatt, when our Mr. Morshed began to talk about uncles?
When he came back to the bar, after hed changed into those rat-catcher clothes, said Leggatt.
Thats right. Pye, said he, have you an uncle? I have, I says. Heres santy to him, and I finished my sherry and bitters to you, uncle.
Thats right, said Pyecrofts uncle sternly. If you hadnt Id have belted you worth rememberin, Emmanuel. I had the body all night.
Pyecroft smiled affectionately. So you ad, uncle, an beautifully you looked after her. But as I was saying, I have an uncle, too, says Mr. Morshed, dark and lowering. Yet somehow I cant love him. I want to mortify the beggar. Volunteers to mortify my uncle, one pace to the front.
I took Jules with me the regulation distance. Jules was getting interested. Your Mr. Leggatt preserved a strictly nootral attitude.
Youre a pressed man, says our Mr. Morshed. I owe your late employer much, so to say. The car will manuvre all night, as requisite.
Mr. Leggatt come out noble as your employee, and, by Eavens divine grace, instead of arguing, he pleaded his new paint and varnish which. was Mr. Morsheds one vital spot (hes lootenant on one of the new catch-em-alive-os now). True, says he, paints an oly thing. Ill give you one hour to arrange a modus vivendi. Full bunkers and steam ready by 9 p.m. to-night, if you please.
Even so, Mr. Leggatt was far from content. I ad to arrange the details. We run her into the yard here. Pyecroft nodded through the window at my cars glossy back-panels. We took off the body with its mats and put it in the stable, substitooting (and that yards a tight fit for extensive repairs) the body of uncles blue delivery cart. It overhung a trifle, but after Id lashed it I knew it wouldnt fetch loose. Thus, in our composite cruiser, we repaired once more to the hotel, and was immediately dispatched to the toyshop in the High Street where we took aboard one rocking-horse which was waiting for us.
Took aboard what? I cried.
One fourteen-hand dapple-grey rocking-horse, with pure green rockers and detachable tail, pair gashly glass eyes, complete set orrible grinnin teeth, and two bloody-red nostrils which, protruding from the brown papers, produced the tout ensemble of a Ju-ju sacrifice in the Benin campaign. Do I make myself comprehensible?
Perfectly. Did you say anything? I asked.
Only to Jules. To him, I says, wishing to try him, Allez à votre bateau. Je say mon Lootenong. Eel voo donneray porkwor. To me, says he, Vous ong ate hurroo! Yamay de la vee! and I saw by his eye hed taken on for the full term of the war. Jules was a blue-eyed, brindle-haired beggar of a useful make and inquirin habits. Your Mr. Leggat he only groaned.
Leggatt nodded. It was like nightmares, he said. It was like nightmares.
Once more, then, Pyecroft swept on, we returned to the hotel and partook of a sumptuous repast, under the able and genial chairmanship of our Mr. Morshed, who laid his projecks unreservedly before us. In the first place, he says, opening out bicycle-maps, my uncle, who, I regret to say, is a brigadier-general, has sold his alleged soul to Dicky Bridoon for a feathery hat and a pair o gilt spurs. Jules, conspuez loncle! So Jules, youll be glad to hear
One minute, Pye, I said. Who is Dicky Bridoon?
I dont usually mingle myself up with the bickerings of the junior Service, but it trarnspired that he was Secretary o State for Civil War, an hed been issuing mechanical leather-belly gee-gees which doctors recommend for tumourto the British cavalry in loo of real meat horses, to learn to ride on. Dont you remember there was quite a stir in the papers owing to the cavalry not appreciatin em? But thats a minor item. The main point was that our uncle, in his capacity of brigadier-general, mark you, had wrote to the papers highly approvin o Dicky Bridoons mechanical substitutes an ad thus obtained promotionall same as a agnosticle stoker psalmsingin imself up the Service under a pious captain. At that point of the narrative we caught a phosphorescent glimmer why the rocking-horse might have been issued; but none the less the navigation was intricate. Omitting the fact it was dark and cloudy, our brigadier-uncle lay somewhere in the South Downs with his brigade, which was manoeuvrin at Whitsun manuvres on a large scaleRed Army versus Blue, et cetera; an all we ad to go by was those flapping bicycle-maps and your Mr. Leggatts groans.
I was thinking what the Downs mean after dark, said Leggatt angrily.
They was worth thinkin of, said Pyecroft, When we had studied the map till it fair spun, we decided to sally forth and creep for uncle by hand in the dark, dark night, an present im with the rocking-horse. So we embarked at 8.57 P.M.
One minute again, please. How much did Jules understand by that time? I asked.
Sufficient unto the dayor night, perhaps I should say. He told our Mr. Morshed hed follow him more sang frays, which is French for dead, drunk or damned. Barrin is paucity o language, there wasnt a blemish on Jules. But what I wished to imply was, when we climbed into the back parts of the car, our Lootenant Morshed says to me, I doubt if Id flick my cigar-ends about too lavish, Mr. Pyecroft. We ought to be sitting on five pounds worth of selected fireworks, and I think the rockets are your end. Not being able to smoke with my ead over the side I threw it away; and then your Mr. Leggatt, aving been as nearly mutinous as it pays to be with my Mr. Morshed, arched his back and drove.
Where did he drive to, please? said I.
Primerrily, in search of any or either or both armies; seconderrily, of course, in search of our brigadier-uncle. Not finding him on the road, we ran about the grass looking for him. This took us to a great many places in a short time. Ow eavenly that lilac did smell on top of that first Downstinkin its blossomin little heart out!
I adnt leesure to notice, said Mr. Leggatt. The Downs were full o chalk-pits, and wed no lights.
We ad the bicycle-lamp to look at the map by. Didnt you notice the old lady at the window where we saw the man in the night-gown? I thought night-gowns as sleepin rig was extinck, so to speak.
I tell you I adnt leesure to notice, Leggatt repeated.
Thats odd. Then what might ave made you tell the sentry at the first camp we found that you was the Daily Express delivery-waggon?
You cant touch pitch without being defiled, Leggatt answered. Oo told the officer in the bath we were umpires?
Well, he asked us. That was when we found the Territorial battalion undressin in slow time. It lay on the left flank o the Blue Army, and it cackled as it lay, too. But it gave us our position as regards the respective armies. We wandered a little more, and at 11.7 p.m., not having had a road under us for twenty minutes, we scaled the heights of something or otherwhich are about six hundred feet high. Here we alted to tighten the lashings of the superstructure, and we smelt leather and horses three counties deep all round. We was, as you might say, in the thick of it.
Ah! says my Mr. Morshed. My orizon has indeed broadened. What a little thing is an uncle, Mr. Pyecroft, in the presence o these glitterin constellations! Simply ludicrous! he says, to waste a rocking-horse on an individual. We must socialise it. But we must get their eads up first. Touch off one rocket, if you please.
I touched off a green three-pounder which rose several thousand metres, and burst into gorgeous stars. Reproduce the manuvre, he says, at the other end o this ridgeif it dont end in another cliff. So we steamed down the ridge a mile and a half east, and then I let Jules touch off a pink rocket, or hed ha kissed me. That was his only way to express his emotions, so to speak. Their heads come up then all around us to the extent o thousands. We hears bugles like cocks crowing below, and on the top of it a most impressive sound which Id never enjoyed before because itherto Id always been an inteegral part of it, so to saythe noise of ole armies gettin under arms. They must ave anticipated a night attack, I imagine. Most impressive. Then we eard a threshin-machine. Tutt! Tutt! This is childish! says Lootenant Morshed. We cant wait till theyve finished cutting chaff for their horses. We must make em understand were not to be trifled with. Expedite em with another rocket, Mr. Pyecroft.
Its barely possible, sir, I remarks, that thats a searchlight churnin up, and by the time we backed into a providential chalk cutting (which was where our first tyre went pungo) she broke out to the northward, and began searching the ridge. A smart bit o work.
Twasnt a puncture. The inner tube had nipped because we skidded so, Leggatt interrupted.
While your Mr. Leggatt was effectin repairs, another searchlight broke out to the southward, and the two of em swept our ridge on both sides. Right at the west end of it they showed us the ground rising into a hill, so to speak, crowned with what looked like a little fort. Morshed saw it before the beams shut off. Thats the key of the position! he says. Occupy it at all hazards.
I havent half got occupation for the next twenty minutes, says your Mr. Leggatt, rootin and blasphemin in the dark. Mark, now, ow Morshed changed his tactics to suit is environment. Right! says he. Ill stand by the ship. Mr. Pyecroft and Jules, oblige me by doubling along the ridge to the east with all the maroons and crackers you can carry without spilling. Read the directions careful for the maroons, Mr. Pyecroft, and touch them off at half-minute intervals. Jules represents musketry an maxim fire under your command. Remember, its death or Salisbury Gaol! Probly both!
By these means and some moderately ard runnin, we distracted em to the eastward. Maroons, you may not be aware, are same as bombs, with the anarchism left out. In confined spots like chalk-pits, they knock a four-point-seven silly. But you should read the directions before and. In the intervals of the slow but well-directed fire of my cow-guns, Jules, who had found a sheep-pond in the dark a little lower down, gave what you might call a cinematograph reproduction o sporadic musketry. They was large size crackers, and he concluded with the dull, sickenin thud o blind shells burstin on soft ground.
How did he manage that? I said.
You throw a lighted squib into water and youll see, said Pyecroft. Thus, then, we improvised till supplies was exhausted and the surrounding landscapes fair owled and ummed at us. The Junior Service might ave ad their doubts about the rockets, but they couldnt overlook our gunfire. Both sides tumbled out full of initiative. I told Jules no two flat-feet ad any right to be as happy as us, and we went back along the ridge to the derelict, and there was our Mr. Morshed apostrophin his andiwork over fifty square mile o country with Attend, all ye who list to hear! out of the Fifth Reader. Hed got as far as And roused the shepherds o Stonehenge, the rangers o Beaulieu when we come up, and he drew our attention to its truth as well as its beauty. Thats rare in poetry, Im told. He went right on toThe red glare on Skiddaw roused those beggars at Carlislewhich he pointed out was poetic licence for Leith Hill. This allowed your Mr. Leggatt time to finish pumpin up his tyres. I eard the sweat op off his nose.
You know what it is, sir, said poor Leggatt to me.
It warfted across my mind, as I listened to what was trarnspirin, that it might be easier to make the mess than to wipe it up, but such considerations weighed not with our valiant leader.
Mr. Pyecroft, he says, it cant have escaped your notice that we ave one angry and ighly intelligent army in front of us, an another ighly angry and equally intelligent army in our rear. What ud you recommend?
Most men would have besought im to do a lateral glide while there was yet time, but all I said was: The rocking-horse isnt expended yet, sir.
He laid his hand on my shoulder. Pye, says he, theres worse men than you in loftier places. They shall ave it. None the less, he remarks, the ice is undeniably packing.
I may ave omitted to point out that at this juncture two large armies, both deprived of their nights sleep, was awake, as you might say, and hurryin into each others arms. Here endeth the second chapter.
He filled his pipe slowly. The uncle had fallen asleep. Leggatt lit another cigarette.
We then proceeded ong automobile along the ridge in a westerly direction towards the miniature fort which had been so kindly revealed by the searchlight, but which on inspection (your Mr. Leggatt bumped into an outlyin reef of it) proved to be a wurzel-clump; cest-à-dire, a parallelogrammatic pile of about three million mangold-wurzels, brought up there for the sheep, I suppose. On all sides, excep the one wed come by, the ground fell away moderately quick, and down at the bottom there was a large camp lit up an full of harsh words of command.
I said it was the key to the position, Lootenant Morshed remarks. Trot out Persimmon! which we rightly took to read, Un-wrap the rocking-horse.
Houp la! says Jules in a insubordinate tone, an slaps Persimmon on the flank.
Silence! says the Lootenant. This is the Royal Navy, not Newmarket; and we carried Persimmon to the top of the matrgel-wurzel clump as directed.
Owing to the inequalities of the terrain (I do think your Mr. Leggatt might have had a spiritlevel in his kit) he wouldnt rock free on the bedplate, and while adjustin him, his detachable tail fetched adrift. Our Lootenant was quick to seize the advantage.
Remove that transformation, he says. Substitute one Roman candle. Gas-power is superior to manual propulsion.
So we substituted. He arranged the pièce de resistarnce in the shape of large drumsnot saucers, mark youdrums of coloured fire, with printed instructions, at proper distances round Persimmon. There was a brief interregnum while we dug ourselves in among the wurzels by hand. Then he touched off the fires, not omitting the Roman candle, and, you may take it from me, all was visible. Persimmon shone out in his naked splendour, red to port, green to starboard, and one white light at his bows, as per Board o Trade regulations. Only he didnt so much rock, you might say, as shrug himself, in a manner of speaking, every time the candle went off. One cant have everything. But the rest surpassed our highest expectations. I think Persimmon was noblest on the starboard or green side-more like when a man thinks hes seeing mackerel in hell, dont you know? And yet Id be the last to deprecate the effect of the port light on his teeth, or that bloodshot look in his left eye. He knew there was something going on he didnt approve of. He looked worried.
Did you laugh? I said.
Im not much of a wag myself; nor it wasnt as if we ad time to allow the spectacle to sink in. The coloured fires was supposed to burn ten minutes, whereas it was obvious to the meanest capacity that the junior Service would arrive by forced marches in about two and a half. They grarsped our topical allusion as soon as it was across the foot-lights, so to speak. They were quite chafed at it. Of course, ad we reflected, we might have known that exposin illuminated rockin horses to an army that was learnin to ride on em partook of the nature of a double entender, as the French saysame as waggling the tiller lines at a man whos had a hanging in the family. I knew the cox of the Archimandrites galley arf killed for a similar plaisanteree. But we never anticipated lobsters being so sensitive. That was why we shifted. We could ardly tear our commandin officer away. He put his head on one side, and kept cooin. The only thing he ad neglected to provide was a line of retreat; but your Mr. Leggattan eroic soul in the last stage of wet prostrationhere took command of the van, or, rather, the rear-guard. We walked downhill beside him, holding on to the superstructure to prevent her capsizing. These technical details, owever, are beyond me. He waved his pipe towards Leggatt.
I saw there was two deepish ruts leadin downill somewhere, said Leggatt. That was when the soldiers stopped laughin, and begun to run uphill.
Stroll, lovey, stroll! Pyecroft corrected. The Dervish rush took place later.
So I laid her in these ruts. That was where she must ave scraped her silencer a bit. Then they turned sharp rightthe ruts didand then she stopped bonnet-high in a manure-heap, sir; but Ill swear it was all of a one in three gradient. I think it was a barnyard. We waited there, said Leggatt.
But not for long, said Pyecroft. The lights were towering out of the drums on the position we ad so valiantly abandoned; and the Junior Service was escaladin it en masse. When numerous bodies of ighly trained men arrive simultaneous in the same latitude from opposite directions, each remarking briskly, What the ell did you do that for? detonation, as you might say, is practically assured. They didnt ask for extraneous aids. If wed come out with sworn affidavits of what wed done they wouldnt ave believed us. They wanted each others company exclusive. Such was the effect of Persimmon on their clarss feelings. Idoltry, I call it! Events transpired with the utmost velocity and rapidly increasing pressures. There was a few remarks about Dicky Bridoon and mechanical horses, and then some one was smackedhard by the soundin the middle of a remark.
That was the man who kept calling for the Forty-fifth Dragoons, said Leggatt. He got as far as Drag . . .
Was it? said Pyecroft dreamily. Well, he couldnt say they didnt come. They all came, and they all fell to arguin whether the Infantry should ave Persimmon for a regimental pet or the Cavalry should keep him for stud purposes. Hence the issue was soon clouded with mangold-wurzels. Our commander said we ad sowed the good seed, and it was bearing abundant fruit. (They weigh between four and seven pounds apiece.) Seein the children ad got over their shyness, and ad really begun to play games, we backed out o the pit and went down, by steps, to the camp below, no man, as you might say, making us afraid. Here we enjoyed a front view of the battle, which rolled with renewed impetus, owing to both sides receiving strong reinforcements every minute. All arms were freely represented; Cavalry, on this occasion only, acting in concert with Artillery. They argued the relative merits of horses versus feet, so to say, but they didnt neglect Persimmon. The wounded rolling downhill with the wurzels informed us that he had long ago been socialised, and the smallest souvenirs were worth a mans life. Speaking broadly, the junior Service appeared to be a shade out of and, if I may venture so far. They did not pay prompt and unhesitating obedience to the Retires or the Cease Fires or the For Eavens sake come to bed, ducky of their officers, who, I regret to say, were otly embroiled at the heads of their respective units.
How did you find that out? I asked.
On account of Lootenant Morshed going to the Mess tent to call on his uncle and raise a drink; but all hands had gone to the front. We thought we eard somebody bathing behind the tent, and we found an oldish gentleman tryin to drown a boy in knickerbockers in a horse-trough. He kept him under with a bicycle, so to speak. He ad nearly accomplished his fell design, when we frustrated him. He was in a highly malleable condition and full o juice de spree. Arsk not what I am, he says. My wife ll tell me that quite soon enough. Arsk rather what Ive been, he says. Ive been dinin here, he says. I commanded em in the Eighties, he says, and, Gawd forgive me, he says, sobbin eavily, Ive spent this holy evening telling their Colonel they was a set of educated inefficients. Hark to em! We could, without strainin ourselves; but how he picked up the gentle murmur of his own corps in that on-the-knee party up the hill I dont know. Theyve marched and fought thirty mile today, he shouts, and now theyre tearin the intestines out of the Cavalry up yonder! They wont stop this side the gates o Delhi, he says. I commanded their ancestors. Theres nothing wrong with the Service, he says, wringing out his trousers on his lap. Eaven pardon me for doubtin em! Same old gamesame young beggars.
The boy in the knickerbockers, languishing on a chair, puts in a claim for one drink. Let him go dry, says our friend in shirt-tails. Hes a reporter. He run into me on his filthy bicycle and he asked me if I could furnish im with particulars about the mutiny in the Army. You false-earted proletarian publicist, he says, shakin his finger at imfor he was reelly annoyed Ill teach you to defile what you cant comprehend! When my regiments in a state o mutiny, Ill do myself the honour of informing you personally. You particularly ignorant and very narsty little man, he says, youre no better than a dhobis donkey! If there wasnt dirty linen to wash, youd starve, he says, and why I havent drowned you will be the lastin regret of my life.
Well, we sat with em and ad drinks for about half-an-hour in front of the Mess tent. Hed ha killed the reporter if there hadnt been witnesses, and the reporter might have taken notes of the battle; so we acted as two-way buffers, in a sense. I dont hold with the Press mingling up with Service matters. They draw false conclusions. Now, mark you, at a moderate estimate, there were seven thousand men in the fighting line, half of em hurt in their professional feelings, an the other half rubbin in the liniment, as you might say. All due to Persimmon! If you adnt seen it you wouldnt ave believed it. And yet, mark you, not one single unit of em even resorted to his belt. They confined themselves to natural produckshands and the wurzels. I thought Jules was havin fits, till it trarnspired the same thought had impressed him in the French language. He called it incroyable, I believe. Seven thousand men, with seven thousand rifles, belts, and bayonets, in a violently agitated condition, and not a ungenteel blow struck from first to last. The old gentleman drew our attention to it as well. It was quite noticeable.
Lack of ammunition was the primerry cause of the battle ceasin. A Brigade-Major came in, wipin his nose on both cuffs, and sayin he ad ad snuff. The brigadier-uncle followed. He was, so to speak, sneezin. We thought it best to shift our moorings without attractin attention; so we shifted. They ad called the cows ome by then. The Junior Service was going to bye-bye all round us, as happy as the ships monkey when hes been playin with the paints, and Lootenant Morshed and Jules kept bowin to port and starboard of the superstructure, acknowledgin the unstinted applause which the multitude would ave given em if theyd known the facts. On the other and, as your Mr. Leggatt observed, they might ave killed us.
That would have been about five bells in the middle watch, say half-past two. A well-spent evening. There was but little to be gained by entering Portsmouth at that hour, so we turned off on the grass (this was after we had found a road under us), and we cast anchors out at the stern and prayed for the day.
But your Mr. Leggatt he had to make and mend tyres all our watch below. It trarnspired she had been running on the rim o two or three wheels, which, very properly, he hadnt reported till the close of the action. And thats the reason of your four new tyres. Mr. Morshed was of opinion youd earned em. Do you dissent?
I stretched out my hand, which Pyecroft crushed to pulp. No, Pye, I said, deeply moved, I agree entirely. But what happened to Jules?
We returned him to his own Navy after breakfast. He wouldnt have kept much longer without some one in his own language to tell it to. I dont know any man I ever took more compassion on than Jules. Is sufferings swelled him up centimetres, and all he could do on the Hard was to kiss Lootenant Morshed and me, and your Mr. Leggatt. He deserved that much. A cordial beggar.
Pyecroft looked at the washed cups on the table, and the low sunshine on my cars back in the yard.
Too early to drink to him, he said. But I feel it just the same.
The uncle, sunk in his chair, snored a little; the canary answered with a shrill lullaby. Pyecroft picked up the duster, threw it over the cage, put his finger to his lips, and we tiptoed out into the shop, while Leggatt brought the car round.
Ill look out for the news in the papers, I said, as I got in.
Oh, we short-circuited that! Nothing trarnspired excep a statement to the effect that some Territorial battalions had played about with turnips at the conclusion of the manuvres. The taxpayer dont know all he gets for his money. Farewell!
We moved off just in time to be blocked by a regiment coming towards the station to entrain for London.
Beg your pardon, sir, said a sergeant in charge of the baggage, but would you mind backin a bit till we get the waggons past?
Certainly, I said. You dont happen to have a rocking-horse among your kit, do you?
The rattle of our reverse drowned his answer, but I saw his eyes. One of them was blackish-green, about four days old.
1. Now Viscount Haldane of Cloan.
THE FOUR Archangels, so the legends tell, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Being first of those to whom the Power was shown, Stood first of all the Host before The Throne, And, when the Charges were allotted, burst Tumultuous-winged from out the assembly first. Zeal was their spur that bade them strictly heed Their own high judgment on their lightest deed. Zeal was their spur that, when relief was given, Urged them unwearied to new toils in Heaven; For Honours sake perfecting every task Beyond what een Perfections self could ask. . . . And Allah, Who created Zeal and Pride, Knows how the twain are perilous-near allied.
It chanced on one of Heavens long-lighted days,
Systems and Universes overpast,
Even as they sighed and turned to toil anew,
These he rehearsed with artful pause and halt,
High over Heaven the lamps of midnight burned
Not first nor last of Heavens high Host, the Four
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His temperament, he said, led him more towards concrete data than abstract ideas. People who investigate detail are apt to be tired at the days end. The same temperament, or it may have been a woman, made him early attach himself to the Immoderate Left of his Cause in the capacity of an experimenter in Social Relations. And since the Immoderate Left contains plenty of women anxious to help earnest inquirers with large independent incomes to arrive at evaluations of essentials, Frankwell Midmores lot was far from contemptible.
At that hour Fate chose to play with him. A widowed aunt, widely separated by nature, and more widely by marriage, from all that Midmores mother had ever been or desired to be, died and left him possessions. Mrs. Midmore, having that summer embraced a creed which denied the existence of death, naturally could not stoop to burial; but Midmore had to leave London for the dank country at a season when Social Regeneration works best through long, cushioned conferences, two by two, after tea. There he faced the bracing ritual of the British funeral, and was wept at across the raw grave by an elderly coffin-shaped female with a long nose, who called him Master Frankie; and there he was congratulated behind an echoing top-hat by a man he mistook for a mute, who turned out to be his aunts lawyer. He wrote his mother next day, after a bright account of the funeral:
So far as I can understand, she has left me between four and five hundred a year. It all comes from Ther Land, as they call it down here. The unspeakable attorney, Sperrit, and a green-eyed daughter, who hums to herself as she tramps but is silent on all subjects except huntin, insisted on taking me to see it. Ther Land is brown and green in alternate slabs like chocolate and pistachio cakes, speckled with occasional peasants who do not utter. In case it should not be wet enough there is a wet brook in the middle of it. Ther House is by the brook. I shall look into it later. If there should be any little memento of Jenny that you care for, let me know. Didnt you tell me that mid-Victorian furniture is coming into the market again? Jennys old maidit is called Rhoda Dolbietells me that Jenny promised it thirty pounds a year. The will does not. Hence, I suppose, the tears at the funeral. But that is close on ten per cent of the income. I fancy Jenny has destroyed all her private papers and records of her vie intime, if, indeed, life be possible in such a place. The Sperrit man told me that if I had means of my own I might come and live on Ther Land. I didnt tell him how much I would pay not to! I cannot think it right that any human being should exercise mastery over others in the merciless fashion our tom-fool social system permits; so, as it is all mine, I intend to sell it whenever the unholy Sperrit can find a purchaser.
And he went to Mr. Sperrit with the idea next day, just before returning to town.
Quite so, said the lawyer. I see your point, of course. But the house itself is rather old-fashionedhardly the type purchasers demand nowadays. Theres no park, of course, and the bulk of the land is let to a life-tenant, a Mr. Sidney. As long as he pays his rent, he cant be turned out, and even if he didntMr. Sperrits face relaxed a shadeyou might have a difficulty.
The property brings four hundred a year, I understand, said Midmore.
Well, hardlyha-ardly. Deducting land and income tax, tithes, fire insurance, cost of collection and repairs of course., it returned two hundred and eighty-four pounds last year. The repairs are rather a large itemowing to the brook. I call it Lirisout of Horace, you know.
Midmore looked at his watch impatiently.
I suppose you can find somebody to buy it? he repeated.
We will do our best, of course, if those are your instructions. Then, that is all excepthere Midmore half rose, but Mr. Sperrits little grey eyes held his large brown ones firmlyexcept about Rhoda Dolbie, Mrs. Werfs maid. I may tell you that we did not draw up your aunts last will. She grew secretive towards the lastelderly people often doand had it done in London. I expect her memory failed her, or she mislaid her notes. She used to put them in her spectacle-case. . . . My motor only takes eight minutes to get to the station, Mr. Midmore . . . but, as I was saying, whenever she made her will with us, Mrs. Werf always left Rhoda thirty pounds per annum. Charlie, the wills! A clerk with a baldish head and a long nose dealt documents on to the table like cards, and breathed heavily behind Midmore. Its in no sense a legal obligation, of course, said Mr. Sperrit. Ah, that one is dated January the 11th, eighteen eighty-nine.
Midmore looked at his watch again and found himself saying with no good grace: Well, I suppose shed better have itfor the present at any rate.
He escaped with an uneasy feeling that two hundred and fifty-four pounds a year was not exactly four hundred, and that Charlies long nose annoyed him. Then he returned, first-class, to his own affairs.
Of the two, perhaps three, experiments in Social Relations which he had then in hand, one interested him acutely. It had run for some months and promised most variegated and interesting developments, on which he dwelt luxuriously all the way to town. When he reached his flat he was not well prepared for a twelve-page letter explaining, in the diction of the Immoderate Left which rubricates its Is and illuminates its Ts, that the lady had realised greater attractions in another Soul. She re-stated, rather than pleaded, the gospel of the Immoderate Left as her justification, and ended in an impassioned demand for her right to express herself in and on her own life, through which, she pointed out, she could pass but once. She added that if, later, she should discover Midmore was essentially complementary to her needs, she would tell him so. That Midmore had himself written much the same sort of epistlebarring the hint of returnto a woman of whom his needs for self-expression had caused him to weary three years before, did not assist him in the least. He expressed himself to the gas-fire in terms essential but not complimentary. Then he reflected on the detached criticism of his best friends and her best friends, male and female, with whom he and she and others had talked so openly while their gay adventure was in flower. He recalled, toothis must have been about midnighther analysis from every angle, remote and most intimate, of the mate to whom she had been adjudged under the base convention which is styled marriage. Later, at that bad hour when the cattle wake for a little, he remembered her in other aspects and went down into the hell appointed; desolate, desiring, with no God to call upon. About eleven oclock next morning Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite called upon him for they had made appointment together to see how he took it; but the janitor told them that Job had goneinto the country, he believed.
Midmores relief when he found his story was not written across his aching temples for Mr. Sperrit to readthe defeated lover, like the successful one, believes all earth privy to his soulwas put down by Mr. Sperrit to quite different causes. He led him into a morning-room. The rest of the house seemed to be full of people, singing to a loud piano idiotic songs about cows, and the hall smelt of damp cloaks.
Its our evening to take the winter cantata, Mr. Sperrit explained. Its High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire. I hoped youd come back. There are scores of little things to settle. As for the house, of course, it stands ready for you at any time. I couldnt get Rhoda out of itnor could Charlie for that matter. Shes the sister, isnt she, of the nurse who brought you down here when you were four, she says, to recover from measles?
Is she? Was I? said Midmore through the bad tastes in his mouth. Dyou suppose I could stay there the night?
Thirty joyous young voices shouted appeal to some one to leave their pipes of parsleyollowollowollow! Mr. Sperrit had to raise his voice above the din.
Well, if I asked you to stay here, I should never hear the last of it from Rhoda. Shes a little cracked, of course, but the soul of devotion and capable of anything. Ne sit ancillae, you know.
Thank you. Then Ill go. Ill walk. He stumbled out dazed and sick into the winter twilight, and sought the square house by the brook.
It was not a dignified entry, because when the door was unchained and Rhoda exclaimed, he took two valiant steps into the hall and then faintedas men sometimes will after twenty-two hours of strong emotion and little food.
Im sorry, he said when he could speak. He was lying at the foot of the stairs, his head on Rhodas lap.
Your ome is your castle, sir, was the reply in his hair. I smelt it wasnt drink. You lay on the sofa till I get your supper.
She settled him in a drawing-room hung with yellow silk, heavy with the smell of dead leaves and oil lamp. Something murmured soothingly in the background and overcame the noises in his head. He thought he heard horses feet on wet gravel and a voice singing about ships and flocks and grass. It passed close to the shuttered baywindow.
But each will mourn his own, she saith, And sweeter woman neer drew breath Than my sons wife, Elizabeth . . . Cushacushacushacalling. |
The hoofs broke into a canter as Rhoda entered with the tray. And then Ill put you to bed, she said. Sidneys coming in the morning. Midmore asked no questions. He dragged his poor bruised soul to bed and would have pitied it all over again, but the food and warm sherry and water drugged him to instant sleep.
Rhodas voice wakened him, asking whether he would have ip, foot, or sitz, which he understood were the baths of the establishment. Suppose you try all three, she suggested. Theyre all yours, you know, sir.
He would have renewed his sorrows with the daylight, but her words struck him pleasantly. Everything his eyes opened upon was his very own to keep for ever. The carved four-post Chippendale bed, obviously worth hundreds; the wavy walnut William and Mary chairshe had seen worse ones labelled twenty guineas apiece; the oval medallion mirror; the delicate eighteenth-century wire fireguard; the heavy brocaded curtains were hisall his. So, too, a great garden full of birds that faced him when he shaved; a mulberry tree, a sun-dial, and a dull, steel-coloured brook that murmured level with the edge of a lawn a hundred yards away. Peculiarly and privately his own was the smell of sausages and coffee that he sniffed at the head of the wide square landing, all set round with mysterious doors and Bartolozzi prints. He spent two hours after breakfast in exploring his new possessions. His heart leaped up at such things as sewing-machines, a rubber-tyred bath-chair in a tiled passage, a malachite-headed Malacca cane, boxes and boxes of unopened stationery, seal-rings, bunches of keys, and at the bottom of a steel-net reticule a little leather purse with seven pounds ten shillings in gold and eleven shillings in silver.
You used to play with that when my sister brought you down here after your measles, said Rhoda as he slipped the money into his pocket. Now, this was your pore dear aunties businessroom. She opened a low door. Oh, I forgot about Mr. Sidney! There he is. An enormous old man with rheumy red eyes that blinked under downy white eyebrows sat in an Empire chair, his cap in his hands. Rhoda withdrew sniffing. The man looked Midmore over in silence, then jerked a thumb towards the door. I reckon she told you who I be, he began. Im the only farmer youve got. Nothin goes off my place thout it walks on its own feet. What about my pig-pound?
Well, what about it? said Midmore.
Thats just what I be come about. The County Councils are getting more particular. Did ye know there was swine fever at Pashells? There be. Itll ave to be in brick.
Yes, said Midmore politely.
Ive bin at your aunt that was, plenty times about it. I dont say she wasnt a just woman, but she didnt read the lease same way I did. I be used to bein put upon, but theres no doing any longer thout that pig-pound.
When would you like it? Midmore asked. It seemed the easiest road to take.
Any time or other suits me, I reckon. He aint thrivin where he is, an I paid eighteen shillin for him. He crossed his hands on his stick and gave no further sign of life.
Is that all? Midmore stammered.
All nowexcephe glanced fretfully at the table beside himexcep my usuals. Wheres that Rhoda?
Midmore rang the bell. Rhoda came in with a bottle and a glass. The old man helped himself to four stiff fingers, rose in one piece, and stumped out. At the door he cried ferociously: Dont suppose its any odds to you whether Im drowned or not, but them floodgates want a wheel and winch, they do. I be too old for liftin em with the barmy time o life.
Good riddance if e was drowned, said Rhoda. But dont you mind him. Hes only amusin himself. Your pore dear auntie used to give im is usualtisnt the whisky you drinkan send im about is business.
I see. Now, is a pig-pound the same thing as a pig-sty?
Rhoda nodded. E needs one, too, but e aint entitled to it. You look at is leasethird drawer on the left in that Bombay cabnetan next time e comes you ask im to read it. Thatll choke im off, because e cant!
There was nothing in Midmores past to teach him the message and significance of a hand-written lease of the late eighties, but Rhoda interpreted.
It dont mean anything reelly, was her cheerful conclusion, excep you mustnt get rid of him anyhow, an e can do what e likes always. Lucky for us e do farm; and if it wasnt for is woman
Oh, theres a Mrs. Sidney, is there?
Lor, no! The Sidneys dont marry. They keep. Thats his fourth sinceto my knowledge. He was a takin man from the first.
Any families?
Theyd he grown up by now if there was, wouldnt they? But you cant spend all your days considerin is interests. Thats what gave your pore aunt er indigestion. Ave you seen the gun-room?
Midmore held strong views on the immorality of taking life for pleasure. But there was no denying that the late Colonel Werfs seventy-guinea breechloaders were good at their filthy job. He loaded one, took it out and pointedmerely pointedit at a cock-pheasant which rose out of a shrubbery behind the kitchen, and the flaming bird came down in a long slant on the lawn, stone dead. Rhoda from the scullery said it was a lovely shot, and told him lunch was ready.
He spent the afternoon gun in one hand, a map in the other, beating the bounds of his lands. They lay altogether in a shallow, uninteresting valley, flanked with woods and bisected by a brook. Up stream was his own house; down stream, less than half a mile, a low red farm-house squatted in an old orchard, beside what looked like small lockgates on the Thames. There was no doubt as to ownership. Mr. Sidney saw him while yet far off, and bellowed at him about pig-pounds and floodgates. These last were two great sliding shutters of weedy oak across the brook, which were prised up inch by inch with a crowbar along a notched strip of iron, and when Sidney opened them they at once let out half the water. Midmore watched it shrink between its aldered banks like some conjuring trick. This, too, was his very own.
I see, he said. How interesting! Now, whats that bell for? he went on, pointing to an old ships bell in a rude belfry at the end of an outhouse. Was that a chapel once? The red-eyed giant seemed to have difficulty in expressing himself for the moment and blinked savagely.
Yes, he said at last. My chapel. When you ear that bell ring youll ear something. Nobody but me ud put up with itbut I reckon it dont make any odds to you. He slammed the gates down again, and the brook rose behind them with a suck and a grunt.
Midmore moved off, conscious that he might be safer with Rhoda to hold his conversational hand. As he passed the front of the farm-house a smooth fat woman, with neatly parted grey hair under a widows cap, curtsied to him deferentially through the window. By every teaching of the Immoderate Left she had a perfect right to express herself in any way she pleased, but the curtsey revolted him. And on his way home he was hailed from behind a hedge by a manifest idiot with no roof to his mouth, who hallooed and danced round him.
What did that beast want? he demanded of Rhoda at tea.
Jimmy? He only wanted to know if you ad any telegrams to send. Ell go anywhere so long as tisnt across running water. That gives im is seizures. Even talkin about it for fun like makes im shake.
But why isnt he where he can be properly looked after?
What arms e doing? Es a love-child, but is family can pay for im. If e was locked up ed die all off at once, like a wild rabbit. Wont you, please, look at the drive, sir?
Midmore looked in the fading light. The neat gravel was pitted with large roundish holes, and there was a punch or two of the same sort on the lawn.
Thats the unt comin ome, Rhoda explained. Your pore dear auntie always let em use our drive for a short cut after the Colonel died. The Colonel wouldnt so much because he preserved; but your auntie was always an orsewoman till er sciatica.
Isnt there some one who can rake it over oror something? said Midmore vaguely.
Oh yes. Youll never see it in the morning, butyou was out when they came ome an Mister Fisherhes the Mastertold me to tell you with is compliments that if you wasnt preservin and cared to old to the old understandin, is gravelpit is at your service same as before. E thought, perhaps, you mightnt know, and it ad slipped my mind to tell you. Its good gravel, Mister Fishers, and it binds beautiful on the drive. We ave to draw it, o course, from the pit, but
Midmore looked at her helplessly.
Rhoda, said he, what am I supposed to do?
Oh, let em come through, she replied. You never know. You may want to unt yourself some day.
That evening it rained and his misery returned on him, the worse for having been diverted. At last he was driven to paw over a few score books in a panelled room called the library, and realised with horror what the late Colonel Werfs mind must have been in its prime. The volumes smelt of a dead world as strongly as they did of mildew. He opened and thrust them back, one after another, till crude coloured illustrations of men on horses held his eye. He began at random and read a little, moved into the drawing-room with the volume, and settled down by the fire still reading. It was a foul world into which he peeped for the first timea heavy-eating, hard-drinking hell of horse-copers, swindlers, matchmaking mothers, economically dependent virgins selling themselves blushingly for cash and lands: Jews, tradesmen, and an ill-considered spawn of Dickens-and-horsedung characters (I give Midmores own criticism), but he read on, fascinated, and behold, from the pages leaped, as it were, the brother to the red-eyed man of the brook, bellowing at a landlord (here Midmore realised that he was that very animal) for new barns; and another man who, like himself again, objected to hoof-marks on gravel. Outrageous as thought and conception were, the stuff seemed to have the rudiments of observation. He dug out other volumes by the same author, till Rhoda came in with a silver candlestick.
Rhoda, said he, did you ever hear about a character called James Piggand Batsey?
Why, o course, said she. The Colonel used to come into the kitchen in is dressin-gown an read us all those Jorrockses.
Oh, Lord! said Midmore, and went to bed with a book called Handley Cross under his arm, and a lonelier Columbus into a stranger world the wet-ringed moon never looked upon.
Towards spring Midmore filled his house with a few friends of the Immoderate Left. It happened to be the day when, all things and Rhoda working together, a cartload of bricks, another of sand, and some bags of lime had been despatched to build Sidney his almost daily-demanded pigpound. Midmore took his friends across the flat fields with some idea of showing them Sidney as a type of the peasantry. They hit the minute when Sidney, hoarse with rage, was ordering bricklayer, mate, carts and all off his premises. The visitors disposed themselves to listen.
You never give me no notice about changin the pig, Sidney shouted. The pigat least eighteen inches longreared on end in the old sty and smiled at the company.
But, my good man Midmore opened.
I aint! For aught you know I be a dam sight worse than you be. You cant come and beave arbitry with me. You are beavin arbitry! All you men go clean away an dont set foot on my land till I bid ye.
But you askedMidmore felt his voice jump upto have the pig-pound built.
I Spose I did. Thats no reason you shouldnt send me notice to change the pig. Comin down on me like this thout warnin! That pigs got to be got into the cowshed an all.
Then open the door and let him run in, said Midmore.
Dont you beave arbitry with me! Take all your dam men ome off my land. I wont be treated arbitry.
The carts moved off without a word, and Sidney went into the house and slammed the door.
Now, I hold that is enormously significant, said a visitor. Here you have the logical outcome of centuries of feudal oppressionthe frenzy of fear. The company looked at Midmore with grave pain.
But he did worry my life out about his pig-sty, was all Midmore found to say.
Others took up the parable and proved to him if he only held true to the gospels of the Immoderate Left the earth would soon be covered with jolly little pig-sties, built in the intervals of morris-dancing by the peasant himself.
Midmore felt grateful when the door opened again and Mr. Sidney invited them all to retire to the road which, he pointed out, was public. As they turned the corner of the house, a smooth-faced woman in a widows cap curtsied to each of them through the window.
Instantly they drew pictures of that womans lot, deprived of all vehicle for self-expressionthe set grey life and apathetic end, one quotedand they discussed the tremendous significance of village theatricals. Even a month ago Midmore would have told them all that he knew and Rhoda had dropped about Sidneys forms of self-expression. Now, for some strange reason, he was content to let the talk run on from village to metropolitan and world drama.
Rhoda advised him after the visitors left that If he wanted to do that again he had better go up to town.
But we only sat on cushions on the floor, said her master.
Theyre too old for romps, she retorted, an its only the beginning of things. Ive seen what Ive seen. Besides, they talked and laughed in the passage going to their bathssuch as took em.
Dont be a fool, Rhoda, said Midmore. No manunless he has loved herwill casually dismiss a woman on whose lap he has laid his head.
Very good, she snorted, but that cuts both ways. An now, you go down to Sidneys this evenin and put him where he ought to be. He was in his right about you givin im notice about changin the pig, but he adnt any right to turn it up before your company. No manners, no pig-pound. Hell understand.
Midmore did his best to make him. He found himself reviling the old man in speech and with a joy quite new in all his experience. He wound upit was a plagiarism from a plumberby telling Mr. Sidney that he looked like a turkey-cock, had the morals of a parish bull, and need never hope for a new pig-pound as long as he or Midmore lived.
Very good, said the giant. I reckon you thought you ad something against me, and now youve come down an told it me like man to man. Quite right. I dont bear malice. Now, you send along those bricks an sand, an Ill make a do to build the pig-pound myself. If you look at my lease youll find out youre bound to provide me materials for the repairs. Onlyonly I thought thered be no arm in my askin you to do it throughout like.
Midmore fairly gasped. Then, why the devil did you turn my carts back whenwhen I sent them up here to do it throughout for you?
Mr. Sidney sat down on the floodgates, his eyebrows knitted in thought.
Ill tell you, he said slowly. Twas too dam like cheatin a suckin baby. My woman, she said so too.
For a few seconds the teachings of the Immoderate Left, whose humour is all their own, wrestled with those of Mother Earth, who has her own humours. Then Midmore laughed till he could scarcely stand. In due time Mr. Sidney laughed toocrowing and wheezing crescendo till it broke from him in roars. They shook hands, and Midmore went home grateful that he had held his tongue among his companions.
When he reached his house he met three or four men and women on horseback, very muddy indeed, coming down the drive. Feeling hungry himself, he asked them if they were hungry. They said they were, and he bade them enter. Jimmy took their horses, who seemed to know him. Rhoda took their battered hats, led the women upstairs for hairpins, and presently fed them all with tea-cakes, poached eggs, anchovy toast, and drinks from a coromandel-wood liqueur case which Midmore had never known that he possessed.
And I will say, said Miss Connie Sperrit, her spurred foot on the fender and a smoking muffin in her whip hand, Rhoda does one top-hole. She always did since I was eight.
Seven, Miss, was when you began to unt, said Rhoda, setting down more buttered toast.
And so, the M.F.H. was saying to Midmore, when he got to your brute Sidneys land, we had to whip em off. Its a regular Alsatia for em. They know it. Whyhe dropped his voiceI dont want to say anything against Sidney as your tenant, of course, but I do believe the old scoundrels perfectly capable of putting down poison.
Sidneys capable of anything, said Midmore with immense feeling; but once again he held his tongue. They were a queer community; yet when they had stamped and jingled out to their horses again, the house felt hugely big and disconcerting.
This may be reckoned the conscious beginning of his double life. It ran in odd channels that summera riding school, for instance, near Hayes Common and a shooting ground near Wormwood Scrubs. A man who has been saddle-galled or shoulder-bruised for half the day is not at his London best of evenings; and when the bills for his amusements come in he curtails his expenses in other directions. So a cloud settled on Midmores name. His London world talked of a hardening of heart and a tightening of purse-strings which signified disloyalty to the Cause. One man, a confidant of the old expressive days, attacked him robustiously and demanded account of his souls progress. It was not furnished, for Midmore was calculating how much it would cost to repave stables so dilapidated that even the village idiot apologised for putting visitors horses into them. The man went away, and served up what he had heard of the pig-pound episode as a little newspaper sketch, calculated to annoy. Midmore read it with an eye as practical as a womans, and since most of his experiences had been among women, at once sought out a woman to whom he might tell his sorrow at the disloyalty of his own familiar friend. She was so sympathetic that he went on to confide how his bruised heartshe knew all about ithad found so-lace, with along O, in another quarter which he indicated rather carefully in case it might be betrayed to other loyal friends. As his hints pointed directly towards facile Hampstead, and as his urgent business was the purchase of a horse from a dealer, Beckenham way, he felt he had done good work. Later, when his friend, the scribe, talked to him alluringly of secret gardens and those so-laces to which every man who follows the Wider Morality is entitled, Midmore lent him a five-pound note which he had got back on the price of a ninety-guinea bay gelding. So true it is, as he read in one of the late Colonel Werfs books, that the young man of the present day would sooner lie under an imputation against his morals than against his knowledge of horse-flesh.
Midmore desired more than he desired anything else at that moment to ride and, above all, to jump on a ninety-guinea bay gelding with black points and a slovenly habit of hitting his fences. He did not wish many people except Mr. Sidney, who very kindly lent his soft meadow behind the floodgates, to be privy to the matter, which he rightly foresaw would take him to the autumn. So he told such friends as hinted at country week-end visits that he had practically let his newly inherited house. The rent, he said, was an object to him, for he had lately lost large sums through ill-considered benevolences. He would name no names, but they could guess. And they guessed loyally all round the circle of his acquaintance as they spread the news that explained so much.
There remained only one couple of his once intimate associates to pacify. They were deeply sympathetic and utterly loyal, of course, but as curious as any of the apes whose diet they had adopted. Midmore met them in a suburban train, coming up to town, not twenty minutes after he had come off two hours advanced tuition (one guinea an hour) over hurdles in a hall. He had, of course, changed his kit, but his too heavy bridle-hand shook a little among the newspapers. On the inspiration of the moment, which is your natural liars best hold, he told them that he was condemned to a rest-cure. He would lie in semi-darkness drinking milk, for weeks and weeks, cut off even from letters. He was astonished and delighted at the ease with which the usual lie confounds the unusual intellect. They swallowed it as swiftly as they recommended him to live on nuts and fruit; but he saw in the womans eyes the exact reason she would set forth for his retirement. After all, she had as much right to express herself as he purposed to take for himself; and Midmore believed strongly in the fullest equality of the sexes.
That retirement made one small ripple in the strenuous world. The lady who had written the twelve-page letter ten months before sent him another of eight pages, analysing all the motives that were leading her back to himshould she come?now that he was ill and alone. Much might yet be retrieved, she said, out of the waste of jarring lives and piteous misunderstandings. It needed only a hand.
But Midmore needed two, next morning very early, for a devils diversion, among wet coppices, called cubbing.
You havent a bad seat, said Miss Sperrit through the morning-mists. But youre worrying him.
He pulls so, Midmore grunted.
Let him alone, then. Look out for the branches, she shouted, as they whirled up a splashy ride. Cubs were plentiful. Most of the hounds attached themselves to a straight-necked youngster of education who scuttled out of the woods into the open fields below.
Hold on! some one shouted. Turn em, Midmore. Thats your brute Sidneys land. Its all wire.
Oh, Connie, stop! Mrs. Sperrit shrieked as her daughter charged at a boundary-hedge.
Wire be damned! I had it all out a fortnight ago. Come on! This was Midmore, buffeting into it a little lower down.
I knew that! Connie cried over her shoulder, and she flitted across the open pasture, humming to herself.
Oh, of course! If some people have private information, they can afford to thrust. This was a snuff-coloured habit into which Miss Sperrit had cannoned down the ride.
What! Midmore got Sidney to heel? You never did that, Sperrit. This was Mr. Fisher, M.F.H., enlarging the breach Midmore had made.
No, confound him! said the father testily.
Go on, sir! Injecto ter pulvereyouve kicked half the ditch into my eye already.
They killed that cub a little short of the haven his mother had told him to make fora two-acre Alsatia of a gorse-patch to which the M.F.H. had been denied access for the last fifteen seasons. He expressed his gratitude before all the field and Mr. Sidney, at Mr. Sidneys farmhouse door.
And if there should be any poultry claims he went on.
There wont be, said Midmore. Its too like cheating a sucking child, isnt it, Mr. Sidney?
Youve got me! was all the reply. I be used to bein put upon, but youve got me, Mus Midmore.
Midmore pointed to a new brick pig-pound built in strict disregard of the terms of the lifetenants lease. The gesture told the tale to the few who did not know, and they shouted.
Such pagan delights as these were followed by pagan sloth of evenings when men and women elsewhere are at their brightest. But Midmore preferred to lie out on a yellow silk couch, reading works of a debasing vulgarity; or, by invitation, to dine with the Sperrits and savages of their kidney. These did not expect flights of fancy or phrasing. They lied, except about horses, grudgingly and of necessity, not for arts sake; and, men and women alike, they expressed themselves along their chosen lines with the serene indifference of the larger animals. Then Midmore would go home and identify them, one by one, out of the natural-history books by Mr. Surtees, on the table beside the sofa. At first they looked upon him coolly, but when the tale of the removed wire and the recaptured gorse had gone the rounds, they accepted him for a person willing to play their games. True, a faction suspended judgment for a while, because they shot, and hoped that Midmore would serve the glorious mammon of pheasant-raising rather than the unkempt god of fox-hunting. But after he had shown his choice, they did not ask by what intellectual process he had arrived at it. He hunted three, sometimes four, times a week, which necessitated not only one bay gelding £94:10s.), but a mannerly white-stockinged chestnut (£114), and a black mare, rather long in the back but with a mouth of silk (£150), who so evidently preferred to carry a lady that it would have been cruel to have baulked her. Besides, with that handling she could be sold at a profit. And besides, the hunt was a quiet, intimate, kindly little hunt, not anxious for strangers, of good report in the Field, the servant of one M.F.H., given to hospitality, riding well its own horses, and, with the exception of Midmore, not novices. But as Miss Sperrit observed, after the M.F.H. had said some things to him at a gate: It is a pity you dont know as much as your horse, but you will in time. It takes years and yee-ars. Ive been at it for fifteen and Im only just learning. But youve made a decent kick-off.
So he kicked off in wind and wet and mud, wondering quite sincerely why the bubbling ditches and sucking pastures held him from day to day, or what so-lace he could find on off days in chasing grooms and bricklayers round outhouses.
To make sure he up-rooted himself one weekend of heavy mid-winter rain, and re-entered his lost world in the character of Galahad fresh from a rest-cure. They all agreed, with an eye over his shoulder for the next comer, that he was a different man; but when they asked him for the symptoms of nervous strain, and led him all through their own, he realised he had lost much of his old skill in lying. His three months absence, too, had put him hopelessly behind the London field. The movements, the allusions, the slang of the game had changed. The couples had rearranged themselves or were re-crystallizing in fresh triangles, whereby he put his foot in it badly. Only one great soul (he who had written the account of the pig-pound episode) stood untouched by the vast flux of time, and Midmore lent him another fiver for his integrity. A woman took him, in the wet forenoon, to a pronouncement on the Oneness of Impulse in Humanity, which struck him as a polysyllabic résumé of Mr. Sidneys domestic arrangements, plus a clarion call to shock civilisation into common-sense.
And youll come to tea with me to-morrow? she asked, after lunch, nibbling cashew nuts from a saucer. Midmore replied that there were great arrears of work to overtake when a man had been put away for so long.
But youve come back like a giant refreshed . . . . I hope that Daphnethis was the lady of the twelve and the eight-page letterwill be with us too. She has misunderstood herself, like so many of us, the woman murmured, but I think eventually . . . she flung out her thin little hands. However, these are things that each lonely soul must adjust for itself.
Indeed, yes, said Midmore with a deep sigh. The old tricks were sprouting in the old atmosphere like mushrooms in a dung-pit. He passed into an abrupt reverie, shook his head, as though stung by tumultuous memories, and departed without any ceremony of farewell tocatch a mid-afternoon express where a man meets associates who talk horse, and weather as it affects the horse, all the way down. What worried him most was that he had missed a day with the hounds.
He met Rhodas keen old eyes without flinching; and the drawing-room looked very comfortable that wet evening at tea. After all, his visit to town had not been wholly a failure. He had burned quite a bushel of letters at his flat. A flathere he reached mechanically toward the worn volumes near the sofaa flat was a consuming animal. As for Daphne . . . he opened at random on the words: His lordship then did as desired and disclosed a tableau of considerable strength and variety. Midmore reflected: And I used to think . . . But she wasnt . . . We were all babblers and skirters together . . . I didnt babble muchthank goodnessbut I skirted. He turned the pages backward for more Sortes Surteesianae, and read When at length they rose to go to bed it struck each man as he followed his neighbour upstairs, that the man before him walked very crookedly. He laughed aloud at the fire.
What about to-morrow? Rhoda asked, entering with garments over her shoulder. Its never stopped raining since you left. Youll be plastered out of sight an all in five minutes. Youd better wear your next best, adnt you? Im afraid theyve shrank. Adnt you best try em on?
Here? said Midmore.
Suit yourself. I bathed you when you wasnt larger than a leg o lamb, said the ex-ladiesmaid.
Rhoda, one of these days I shall get a valet, and a married butler.
Theres many a true word spoke in jest. But nobodys huntin to-morrow.
Why? Have they cancelled the meet?
They say it only means slipping and over-reaching in the mud, and they all ad enough of that to-day. Charlie told me so just now.
Oh! It seemed that the word of Mr. Sperrits confidential clerk had weight.
Charlie came down to help Mr. Sidney lift the gates, Rhoda continued.
The flood-gates? They are perfectly easy to handle now. Ive put in a wheel and a winch.
When the brooks really up they must be took clean out on account of the rubbish blockin em. Thats why Charlie came down.
Midmore grunted impatiently. Everybody has talked to me about that brook ever since I came here. Its never done anything yet.
This as been a dry summer. If you care to look now, sir, Ill get you a lantern.
She paddled out with him into a large wet night. Half-way down the lawn her light was reflected on shallow brown water, pricked through with grass blades at the edges. Beyond that light, the brook was strangling and kicking among hedges and tree-trunks.
What on earth will happen to the big rosebed? was Midmores first word.
It generally as to be restocked after a flood. Ah! she raised her lantern. Theres two garden-seats knockin against the sun-dial. Now, that wont do the roses any good.
This is too absurd. There ought to be some decently thought-out systemforfor dealing with this sort of thing. He peered into the rushing gloom. There seemed to be no end to the moisture and the racket. In town he had noticed nothing.
It cant be elped, said Rhoda. Its just what it does do once in just so often. Wed better go back.
All earth under foot was sliding in a thousand liquid noises towards the hoarse brook. Somebody wailed from the house: Fraid o the water! Come ere! Fraid o the water!
Thats Jimmy. Wet always takes im that way, she explained. The idiot charged into them, shaking with terror.
Brave Jimmy! How brave of Jimmy! Come into the hall. What Jimmy got now? she crooned. It was a sodden note which ran: Dear RhodaMr. Lotten, with whom I rode home this afternoon, told me that if this wet keeps up, hes afraid the fish-pond he built last year, where Coxens old mill-dam was, will go, as the dam did once before, he says. If it does its bound to come down the brook. It may be all right, but perhaps you had better lookout. C.S.
If Coxens dam goes, that means . . . Ill ave the drawing-room carpet up at once to be on the safe side. The claw-ammer is in the libery.
Wait a minute. Sidneys gates are out, you said?
Both. Hell need it if Coxens pond goes .... Ive seen it once.
Ill just slip down and have a look at Sidney. Light the lantern again, please, Rhoda.
You wont get him to stir. Hes been there since he was born. But she dont know anything. Ill fetch your waterproof and some top-boots.
Fraid o the water! Fraid o the water! Jimmy sobbed, pressed against a corner of the hall, his hands to his eves.
All right, Jimmy. Jimmy can help play with the carpet, Rhoda answered, as Midmore went forth into the darkness and the roarings all round. He had never seen such an utterly unregulated state of affairs. There was another lantern reflected on the streaming drive.
Hi! Rhoda! Did you get my note? I came down to make sure. I thought, afterwards, Jimmy might funk the water!
Its meMiss Sperrit, Midmore cried. Yes, we got it, thanks.
Youre back, then. Oh, good! . . . Is it bad down with you?
Im going to Sidneys to have a look.
You wont get him out. Lucky I met Bob Lotten. I told him he hadnt any business impounding water for his idiotic trout without rebuilding the dam.
How far up is it? Ive only been there once.
Not more than four miles as the water will come. He says hes opened all the sluices.
She had turned and fallen into step beside him, her hooded head bowed against the thinning rain. As usual she was humming to herself.
Why on earth did you come out in this weather? Midmore asked.
It was worse when you were in town. The rains taking off now. If it wasnt for that pond, I wouldnt worry so much. Theres Sidneys bell. Come on! She broke into a run. A cracked bell was jangling feebly down the valley.
Keep on the road! Midmore shouted. The ditches were snorting bank-full on either side, and towards the brook-side the fields were afloat and beginning to move in the darkness.
Catch me going off it! Theres his light burning all right. She halted undistressed at a little rise. But the floods in the orchard. Look! She swung her lantern to show a front rank of old apple-trees reflected in still, out-lying waters beyond the half-drowned hedge. They could hear above the thud-thud of the gorged flood-gates, shrieks in two keys as monotonous as a steam-organ.
The high ones the pig. Miss Sperrit laughed.
All right! Ill get her out. You stay where you are, and Ill see you home afterwards.
But the waters only just over the road, she objected.
Never mind. Dont you move. Promise?
All right. You take my stick, then, and feel for holes in case anythings washed out anywhere. This is a lark!
Midmore took it, and stepped into the water that moved sluggishly as yet across the farm road which ran to Sidneys front door from the raised and metalled public road. It was half way up to his knees when he knocked. As he looked back Miss Sperrits lantern seemed to float in midocean.
You cant come in or the waterll come with you. Ive bunged up all the cracks, Mr. Sidney shouted from within. Who be ye?
Take me out! Take me out! the woman shrieked, and the pig from his sty behind the house urgently seconded the motion.
Im Midmore! Coxens old mill-dam is likely to go, they say. Come out!
I told em it would when they made a fishpond of it. Twasnt ever puddled proper. But its a middlin wide valley. Shes got room to spread . . . . Keep still, or Ill take and duck you in the cellar! . . . You go ome, Mus Midmore, an take the law o Mus Lotten soons youve changed your socks.
Confound you, arent you coming out?
To catch my death o cold? Im all right where I be. Ive seen it before. But you can take her. Shes no sort o use or sense . . . . Climb out through the window. Didnt I tell you Id plugged the door-cracks, you fools daughter? The parlour window opened, and the woman flung herself into Midmores arms, nearly knocking him down. Mr. Sidney leaned out of the window, pipe in mouth.
Take her ome, he said, and added oracularly
Two women in one house, Two cats an one mouse, Two dogs an one bone Which I will leave alone. |
Ive seen it before. Then he shut and fastened the window.
A trap! A trap! You had ought to have brought a trap for me. Ill be drowned in this wet, the woman cried.
Hold up! You cant be any wetter than you are. Come along! Midmore did not at all like the feel of the water over his boot-tops.
Hooray! Come along! Miss Sperrits lantern, not fifty yards away, waved cheerily.
The woman threshed towards it like a panic-stricken goose, fell on her knees, was jerked up again by Midmore, and pushed on till she collapsed at Miss Sperrits feet.
But you wont get bronchitis if you go straight to Mr. Midmores house, said the unsympathetic maiden.
O Gawd! O Gawd! I wish our eavenly Father ud forgive me my sins an call me ome, the woman sobbed. But I wont go to is ouse! I wont.
All right, then. Stay here. Now, if we run, Miss Sperrit whispered to Midmore, shell follow us. Not too fast!
They set off at a considerate trot, and the woman lumbered behind them, bellowing, till they met a third lanternRhoda holding Jimmys hand. She had got the carpet up, she said, and was escorting Jimmy past the water that he dreaded.
Thats all right, Miss Sperrit pronounced.
Take Mrs. Sidney back with you, Rhoda, and put her to bed. Ill take Jimmy with me. You arent afraid of the water now, are you, Jimmy?
Not afraid of anything now. Jimmy reached for her hand. But get away from the water quick.
Im coming with you, Midmore interrupted.
You most certainly are not. Youre drenched. She threw you twice. Go home and change. You may have to be out again all night. Its only half-past seven now. Im perfectly safe. She flung herself lightly over a stile, and hurried uphill by the footpath, out of reach of all but the boasts of the flood below.
Rhoda, dead silent, herded Mrs. Sidney to the house.
Youll find your things laid out on the bed, she said to Midmore as he came up. Ill attend toto this. Shes got nothing to cry for.
Midmore raced into dry kit, and raced uphill to be rewarded by the sight of the lantern just turning into the Sperrits gate. He came back by way of Sidneys farm, where he saw the light twinkling across three acres of shining water, for the rain had ceased and the clouds were stripping overhead, though the brook was noisier than ever. Now there was only that doubtful mill-pond to look afterthat and his swirling world abandoned to himself alone.
We shall have to sit up for it, said Rhoda after dinner. And as the drawing-room commanded the best view of the rising flood, they watched it from there for a long time, while all the clocks of the house bore them company.
Tisnt the water, its the mud on the skirtingboard after it goes down that I mind, Rhoda whispered. The last time Coxens mill broke, I remember it came up to the secondno, thirdstep o Mr. Sidneys stairs.
What did Sidney do about it?
He made a notch on the step. E said it was a record. Just like im.
Its up to the drive now, said Midmore after another long wait. And the rain stopped before eight, you know.
Then Coxens dam as broke, and thats the first of the flood-water. She stared out beside him. The water was rising in sudden pulsesan inch or two at a time, with great sweeps and lagoons and a sudden increase of the brooks proper thunder.
You cant stand all the time. Take a chair, Midmore said presently.
Rhoda looked back into the bare room. The carpet bein up does make a difference. Thank you, sir, I will ave a set-down.
Right over the drive now, said Midmore. He opened the window and leaned out. Is that wind up the valley, Rhoda?
No, thats it! But Ive seen it before.
There was not so much a roar as the purposeful drive of a tide across a jagged reef, which put down every other sound for twenty minutes. A wide sheet of water hurried up to the little terrace on which the house stood, pushed round either corner, rose again and stretched, as it were, yawning beneath the moonlight, joined other sheets waiting for them in unsuspected hollows, and lay out all in one. A puff of wind followed.
Its right up to the wall now. I can touch it with my finger. Midmore bent over the window-sill.
I can ear it in the cellars, said Rhoda dolefully. Well, weve done what we can! I think Ill ave a look. She left the room and was absent half an hour or more, during which time he saw a full-grown tree hauling itself across the lawn by its naked roots. Then a hurdle knocked against the wall, caught on an iron foot-scraper just outside, and made a square-headed ripple. The cascade through the cellar-windows diminished.
Its dropping, Rhoda cried, as she returned. Its only tricklin into my cellars now.
Wait a minute. I believeI believe I can see the scraper on the edge of the drive just showing!
In another ten minutes the drive itself roughened and became gravel again, tilting all its water towards the shrubbery.
The ponds gone past, Rhoda announced. We shall only ave the common flood to contend with now.. Youd better go to bed.
I ought to go down and have another look at Sidney before daylight.
No need. You can see is light burnin from all the upstairs windows.
By the way. I forgot about her. Whereve you put her?
In my bed. Rhodas tone was ice. I wasnt going to undo a room for that stuff.
But itit couldnt be helped, said Midmore. She was half drowned. One mustnt be narrow-minded, Rhoda, even if her position isnt quiteerregular.
Pfff! I wasnt worryin about that. She leaned forward to the window. Theres the edge of the lawn showin now. It falls as fast as it rises. Deariethe change of tone made Midmore jumpdidnt you know that I was is first? Thats what makes it so hard to bear. Midmore looked at the long lizard-like back and had no words.
She went on, still talking through the black window-pane:
Your pore dear auntie was very kind about it. She said shed make all allowances for one, but no more. Never any more . . . . Then, you didnt know oo Charlie was all this time?
Your nephew, I always thought.
Well, well, she spoke pityingly. Everybodys business being nobodys business, I suppose no one thought to tell you. But Charlie made is own way for imself from the beginnin! . . . But her upstairs, she never produced anything. Just an ousekeeper, as you might say. Turned over an went to sleep straight off. She ad the impudence to ask me for ot sherry-gruel.
Did you give it to her, said Midmore.
Me? Your sherry? No!
The memory of Sidneys outrageous rhyme at the window, and Charlies long nose (he thought it looked interested at the time) as he passed the copies of Mrs. Werfs last four wills, overcame Midmore without warning.
This damp is givin you a cold, said Rhoda, rising. There you go again! Sneezins a sure sign of it. Better go to bed. You cant do anythin excepshe stood rigid, with crossed armsabout me.
Well. What about you? Midmore stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket.
Now you know about it, what are you goin to dosir?
She had the answer on her lean cheek before the sentence was finished.
Go and see if you can get us something to eat, Rhoda. And beer.
I expec the larder ll be in a swim, she replied, but old bottled stuff dont take any harm from wet. She returned with a tray, all in order, and they ate and drank together, and took observations of the falling flood till dawn opened its bleared eyes on the wreck of what had been a fair garden. Midmore, cold and annoyed, found himself humming:
That flood strewed wrecks upon the grass, That ebb swept out the flocks to sea. |
There isnt a rose left, Rhoda!
An awesome ebb and flow it was To many more than mine and me. But each will mourn his . . . |
Itll cost me a hundred.
Now we know the worst, said Rhoda, we can go to bed. Ill lay on the kitchen sofa. His lights burnin still.
And she?
Dirty old cat! You ought to ear er snore!
At ten oclock in the morning, after a maddening hour in his own garden on the edge of the retreating brook, Midmore went off to confront more damage at Sidneys. The first thing that met him was the pig, snowy white, for the water had washed him out of his new sty, calling on high heaven for breakfast. The front door had been forced open, and the flood had registered its own height in a brown dado on the walls. Midmore chased the pig out and called up the stairs.
I be abed o course. Which step as she rose to? Sidney cried from above. The fourth? Then its beat all records. Come up.
Are you ill? Midmore asked as he entered the room. The red eyelids blinked cheerfully. Mr. Sidney, beneath a sumptuous patch-work quilt, was smoking.
Nah! Im only thankin God I aint my own landlord. Take that cheer. Whats she done?
It hasnt gone down enough for me to make sure.
Them floodgates o yourn ll be middlin far down the brook by now; an your rose-garden have gone after em. I saved my chickens, though. Youd better get Mus Sperrit to take the law o Lotten an is fish-pond.
No, thanks. Ive trouble enough without that.
Hev ye? Mr. Sidney grinned. How did ye make out with those two women o mine last night? I lay they fought.
You infernal old scoundrel! Midmore laughed.
I bean then again I baint, was the placid answer. But, Rhoda, she wouldnt ha left me last night. Fire or flood, she wouldnt.
Why didnt you ever marry her? Midmore asked.
Waste of good money. She was willin without.
There was a step on the gritty mud below, and a voice humming. Midmore rose quickly saying: Well, I suppose youre all right now.
I be. I aint a landlord, nor I aint youngnor anxious. Oh, Mus Midmore! Would it make any odds about her thirty pounds comin regular if I married her? Charlie said maybe twould.
Did he? Midmore turned at the door.
And what did Jimmy say about it?
Jimmy? Mr. Sidney chuckled as the joke took him. Oh, hes none o mine. Hes Charlies look-out.
Midmore slammed the door and ran downstairs
Well, this is asweetmess, said Miss Sperrit in shortest skirts and heaviest riding-boots. I had to come down and have a look at it. The old mayor climbed the belfry tower. Been up all night nursing your family?
Nearly that! Isnt it cheerful? He pointed through the door to the stairs with small twig-drift on the last three treads.
Its a record, though, said she, and hummed to herself:
That flood strewed wrecks upon the grass, That ebb swept out the flocks to sea. |
Youre always singing that, arent you? Midmore said suddenly as she passed into the parlour where slimy chairs had been stranded at all angles.
Am I? Now I come to think of it I believe I do. They say I always hum when I ride. Have you noticed it?
Of course I have. I notice every
Oh, she went on hurriedly. We had it for the village cantata last winterThe Brides of Enderby.
No! High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire. For some reason Midmore spoke sharply.
Just like that. She pointed to the befouled walls. I say. . . . Lets get this furniture a little straight . . . . You know it too?
Every word, since you sang it, of course.
When?
The first night I ever came down. You rode past the drawing-room window in the dark singing itAnd sweeter woman
I thought the house was empty then. Your aunt always let us use that short cut. Hahadnt we better get this out into the passage? Itll all have to come out anyhow. You take the other side. They began to lift a heavyish table. Their words came jerkily between gasps and their faces were as white asa newly washed and very hungry pig.
Look out! Midmore shouted. His legs were whirled from under him, as the table, grunting madly, careened and knocked the girl out of sight.
The wild boar of Asia could not have cut down a couple more scientifically, but this little pig lacked his ancestors nerve and fled shrieking over their bodies.
Are you hurt, darling? was Midmores first word, and NoIm only windeddear, was Miss Sperrits, as he lifted her out of her corner, her hat over one eye and her right cheek a smear of mud.
Seed-onions, most likely, said Connie. Youll hear about this.
What does it matter? They ought to have been gilded. We must buy him.
And keep him as long as he lives, she agreed. But I think I ought to go home now. You see, when I came out I didnt expect . . . Did you?
No! Yes . . . . It had to come. . . . But if any one had told me an hour ago! . . . Sidneys unspeakable parlourand the mud on the carpet.
Oh, I say! Is my cheek clean now?
Not quite. Lend me your hanky again a minute, darling . . . . What a purler you came!
You cant talk. Remember when your chin hit that table and you said blast! I was just going to laugh.
You didnt laugh when I picked you up. You were going oo-oo-oo like a little owl.
My dear child
Say that again!
My dear child. (Do you really like it? I keep it for my best friends.) My dee-ar child, I thought I was going to be sick there and then. He knocked every ounce of wind out of methe angel! But I must really go.
They set off together, very careful not to join hands or take arms.
Not across the fields, said Midmore at the stile. Come round byby your own place.
She flushed indignantly.
It will be yours in a little time, he went on, shaken with his own audacity.
Not so much of your little times, if you please! She shied like a colt across the road; then instantly, like a colt, her eyes lit with new curiosity as she came in sight of the drive-gates.
And not quite so much of your airs and graces, Madam, Midmore returned, or I wont let you use our drive as a short cut any more.
Oh, Ill be good. Ill be good. Her voice changed suddenly. I swear Ill try to be good, dear. Im not much of a thing at the best. What made you . . .
Im worseworse! Miles and oceans worse. But what does it matter now?
They halted beside the gate-pillars.
I see! she said, looking up the sodden carriage sweep to the front door porch where Rhoda was slapping a wet mat to and fro. I see. . . . Now, I really must go home. No! Dont you come. I must speak to Mother first all by myself.
He watched her up the hill till she was out of sight.
THE RAIN it rains without a stay In the hills above us, in the hills; And presently the floods break way Whose strength is in the hills. The trees they suck from every cloud, The valley brooks they roar aloud Bank-high for the lowlands, lowlands, Lowlands under the hills!
The first wood down is sere and small,
The eye shall look, the ear shall hark
The floods they shall not be afraid
The floods shall sweep corruption clean |
WHEN all the world would keep a matter hid, Since Truth is seldom friend to any crowd, Men write in fable, as old Æsop did, Jesting at that which none will name aloud. And this they needs must do, or it will fall Unless they please they are not heard at all
When desperate Folly daily laboureth
Needs must all please, yet some not all for need,
This was the lock that lay upon our lips,
What man hears aught except the groaning guns? |
Thy Lord spoke by inspiration to the Bee.
AL KORAN.
|
I HAVE, to my grief and loss, suppressed several notable stories of my friend, the Hon. A. M. Penfentenyou, once Minister of Woods and Waysides in De Thouars first administration; later, Premier in all but name of one of Our great and growing Dominions; and now, as always, the idol of his own Province, which is two and one-half the size of England.
For this reason I hold myself at liberty to deal with some portion of the truth concerning Penfentenyous latest visit to Our shores. He arrived at my house by car, on a hot summer day, in a white waistcoat and spats, sweeping black frock-coat and glistening top-hata little rounded, perhaps, at the edges, but agile as ever in mind and body.
What is the trouble now? I asked, for the last time we had met, Penfentenyou was floating a three-million pound loan for his beloved but unscrupulous Province, and I did not wish to entertain any more of his financial friends.
We, Penfentenyou replied ambassadorially, have come to have a Voice in Your Councils. By the way, the Voice is coming down on the evening train with my Agent-General. I thought you wouldnt mind if I invited em. You know Were going to share Your burdens henceforward. Youd better get into training.
Certainly, I replied. Whats the Voice like?
Hes in earnest, said Penfentenyou. Hes got It, and hes got It bad. Hell give It to you, he said.
Whats his name?
We call him all sorts of names, but I think youd better call him Mr. Lingnam. You wont have to do it more than once.
Whats he suffering from?
The Empire. Hes pretty nearly cured us all of Imperialism at home. Praps hell cure you.
Very good. What am I to do with him?
Dont you worry, said Pen fentenyou. Hell do it.
And when Mr. Lingnam appeared half-an-hour later with the Agent-General for Penfentenyous Dominion, he did just that.
He advanced across the lawn eloquent as all the tides. He said he had been observing to the Agent-General that it was both politically immoral and strategically unsound that forty-four million people should bear the entire weight of the defences of Our mighty Empire, but, as he had observed (here the Agent-General evaporated), we stood now upon the threshold of a new era in which the self-governing and self-respecting (bis) Dominions would rightly and righteously, as copartners in Empery, shoulder their share of any burden which the Pan-Imperial Council of the Future should allot. The Agent-General was already arranging for drinks with Penfentenyou at the other end of the garden. Mr. Lingnam swept me on to the most remote bench and settled to his theme.
We dined at eight. At nine Mr. Lingnam was only drawing abreast of things Imperial. At ten the Agent-General, who earns his salary, was shamelessly dozing on the sofa. At eleven he and Penfentenyou went to bed. At midnight Mr. Lingnam brought down his big-bellied despatch box with the newspaper clippings and set to federating the Empire in earnest. I remember that he had three alternative plans. As a dealer in words, I plumped for the resonant thirdReciprocally co-ordinated Senatorial Hegemonywhich he then elaborated in detail for three-quarters of an hour. At half-past one he urged me to have faith and to remember that nothing mattered except the Idea. Then he retired to his room, accompanied by one glass of cold water, and I went into the dawn-lit garden and prayed to any Power that might be off duty for the blood of Mr. Lingnam, Penfentenyou, and the Agent-General.
To me, as I have often observed elsewhere, the hour of earliest dawn is fortunate, and the wind that runs before it has ever been my most comfortable counsellor.
Wait! it said, all among the nights expectant rosebuds. To-morrow is also a day. Wait upon the Event!
I went to bed so at peace with God and Man and Guest that when I waked I visited Mr. Lingnam in pyjamas, and he talked to me Pan-Imperially for half-an-hour before his bath. Later, the Agent-General said he had letters to write, and Penfentenyou invented a Cabinet crisis in his adored Dominion which would keep him busy with codes and cables all the forenoon. But I said firmly, Mr. Lingnam wishes to see a little of the country round here. You are coming with us in your own car.
Its a hired one, Penfentenyou objected.
Yes. Paid for by me as a taxpayer, I replied.
And yours has a top, and the weather looks thundery, said the Agent-General. Ours hasnt a wind-screen. Even our goggles were hired.
Ill lend you goggles, I said. My car is under repairs.
The hireling who had looked to be returned to London spat and growled on the drive. She was an open car, capable of some eighteen miles on the flat, with tetanic gears and a perpetual palsy.
It wont make the least difference, sighed the Agent-General. Hell only raise his voice. He did it all the way coming down.
I say, said Penfentenyou suspiciously, what are you doing all this for?
Love of the Empire, I answered, as Mr. Lingnam tripped up in dust-coat and binoculars. Now, Mr. Lingnam will tell us exactly what he wants to see. He probably knows more about England than the rest of us put together.
I read it up yesterday, said Mr. Lingnam simply. While we stowed the lunch-basket (one can never make too sure with a hired car) he outlined a very pretty and instructive little days run.
Youll drive, of course? said Penfentenyou to him. Its the only thing you know anything about.
This astonished me, for your greater Federationists are rarely mechanicians, but Mr. Lingnam said he would prefer to be inside for the present and. enjoy our conversation.
Well settled on the back seat, he did not once lift his eyes to the mellow landscape around him, or throw a word at the life of the English road which to me is one renewed and unreasoned orgy of delight. The mustard-coloured scouts of the Automobile Association; their natural enemies, the unjust police; our natural enemies, the deliberate market-day cattle, broadside-on at all corners, the bicycling butcher-boy a furlong behind; road-engines that pulled giddy-go-rounds, rifle galleries, and swings, and sucked snortingly from wayside ponds in defiance of the noticeboard; traction-engines, their trailers piled high with road metal; uniformed village nurses, one per seven statute miles, flitting by on their wheels; governess-carts full of pink children jogging unconcernedly past roaring, brazen touring-cars; the wayside rector with virgins in attendance, their faces screwed up against our dust; motor-bicycles of every shape charging down at every angle; red flags of rifle-ranges; detachments of dusty-putteed Territorials; coveys of flagrant children playing in mid-street, and the wise, educated English dog safe and quite silent on the pavement if his fool-mistress would but cease from trying to save him, passed and repassed us in sunlit or shaded settings. But Mr. Lingnam only talked. He talkedwe all sat together behind so that we could not escape himand he talked above the worn gears and a certain maddening swish of one badly patched tireand he talked of the Federation of the Empire against all conceivable dangers except himself. Yet I was neither brutally rude like Penfentenyou, nor swooningly bored like the Agent-General. I remembered a certain Joseph Finsbury who delighted the Tregonwell Arms on the borders of the New Forest with nineit should have been tenversions of a single income of two hundred pounds placing the imaginary person inbut I could not recall the list of towns further than London, Paris, Bagdad, and Spitzbergen. This last I must have murmured aloud, for the Agent-General suddenly became human and went on: Bussorah, Heligoland, and the Scilly Islands
What? growled Penfentenyou.
Nothing, said the Agent-General, squeezing my hand affectionately. Only we have just found out that we are brothers.
Exactly, said Mr. Lingnam. Thats what Ive been trying to lead up to. Were all brothers. Dyou realise that fifteen years ago such a conversation as were having would have been unthinkable? The Empire wouldnt have been ripe for it. To go back, even ten years
Ive got it, cried the Agent-General. Brighton, Cincinnati, and Nijni-Novgorod! God bless R.L.S.! Go on, Uncle Joseph. I can endure much now.
Mr. Lingnam went on like our shandrydan, slowly and loudly. He admitted that a man obsessed with a Central Ideaand, after all, the only thing that mattered was the Ideamight become a bore, but the Worlds Work, he pointed out, had been done by bores. So he laid his bones down to that work till we abandoned ourselves to the passage of time and the Mercy of Allah, Who Alone closes the Mouths of His Prophets. And we wasted more than fifty miles of summers vivid own England upon him the while.
About two oclock we topped Sumtner Rising and looked down on the village of Sumtner Barton, which lies just across a single railway line, spanned by a red brick bridge. The thick, thunderous June airs brought us gusts of melody from a giddy-go-round steam-organ in full blast near the pond on the village green. Drums, too, thumped and banners waved and regalia flashed at the far end of the broad village street. Mr. Lingnam asked why.
Nothing Imperial, Im afraid. It looks like a Foresters Fêteone of our big Mutual Benefit Societies, I explained.
The Idea only needs to be co-ordinated to Imperial scale he began.
But it means that the pub. will be crowded, I went on.
Whats the matter with lunching by the roadside here? said Penfentenyou. Weve got the lunch-basket.
Havent you ever heard of Sumtner Barton ales? I demanded, and he became the administrator at once, saying, I see! Lingnam can drive us in and well get some, while Holfordthis was the hireling chauffeur, whose views on beer we knew notlays out lunch here. Thatll be better than eating at the pub. We can take in the Foresters Fête as well, and perhaps I can buy some newspapers at the station.
True, I answered. The railway station is just under that bridge, and well come back and lunch here.
I indicated a terrace of cool clean shade beneath kindly beeches at the head of Sumtner Rise. As Holford got out the lunch-basket, a detachment of Regular troops on manuvres swung down the baking road.
Ah! said Mr. Lingnam, the monthlymagazine roll in his voice. All Europe is an armed camp, groaning, as I remember I once wrote, under the weight of its accoutrements.
Oh, hop in and drive, cried Penfentenyou. We want that beer!
It made no difference. Mr. Lingnam could have federated the Empire from a tight rope. He continued his oration at the wheel as we trundled.
The danger to the Younger Nations is of being drawn into this vortex of Militarism, he went on, dodging the rear of the soldiery.
Slow past troops, I hinted. It saves em dust. And we overtake on the right as a rule in England.
Thanks! Mr. Lingnam slued over Thats another detail which needs to be co-ordinated throughout the Empire. But to go back to what I was saying. My idea has always been that the component parts of the Empire should take counsel among themselves on the approach of war, so that, after we have decided on the merits of the casus belli, we can co-ordinate what part each Dominion shall play whenever war is, unfortunately, a possibility.
We neared the hog-back railway bridge, and the hireling knocked piteously at the grade. Mr. Lingnam changed gears, and she hoisted herself up to a joyous Youp-i-addy-i-ay! from the steam-organ. As we topped the arch we saw a Foresters band with banners marching down the street.
Thats all very fine, said the Agent-General, but in real life things have a knack of happening without approaching
(Some schools of Thought hold that Time is not; and that when we attain complete enlightenment we shall behold past, present, and future as One Awful Whole. I myself have nearly achieved this.)
We dipped over the bridge into the village. A boy on a bicycle, loaded with four paper bonnet-boxes, pedalled towards us, out of an alley on our right. He bowed his head the better to overcome the ascent, and naturally took his left. Mr. Lingnam swerved frantically to the right. Penfentenyou shouted. The boy looked up, saw the car was like to squeeze him against the bridge wall, flung himself off his machine and across the narrow pavement into the nearest house. He slammed the door at the precise moment when the car, all brakes set, bunted the abandoned bicycle, shattering three of the bonnet-boxes and jerking the fourth over the unscreened dashboard into Mr. Lingnams arms.
There was a dead stillness, then a hiss like that of escaping steam, and a man who had been running towards us ran the other way.
Why! I think that those must be bees, said Mr. Lingnam.
They werefour full swarmsand the first living objects which he had remarked upon all day.
Some one said, Oh, God! The Agent-General went out over the back of the car, crying resolutely: Stop the traffic! Stop the traffic, there! Penfentenyou was already on the pavement ringing a door-bell, so I had both their rugs, whichfor I am an apiaristI threw over my head. While I was tucking my trousers into my socksfor I am an apiarist of experienceMr. Lingnam picked up the unexploded bonnet-box and with a single magnificent gesture (he told us afterwards he thought there was a river beneath) hurled it over the parapet of the bridge, ere he ran across the road toward the village green. Now, the station platform immediately below was crowded with Foresters and their friends waiting to welcome a delegation from a sister Court. I saw the box burst on the flint edging of the station garden and the contents sweep forward cone-wise like shrapnel. But the result was stimulating rather than sedative. All those well-dressed people below shouted like Sodom and Gomorrah. Then they moved as a unit into the booking-office, the waiting-rooms, and other places, shut doors and windows and declaimed aloud, while the incoming train whistled far down the line.
I pivoted round cross-legged on the back seat, like a Circassian beauty beneath her veil, and saw Penfentenyou, his coat-collar over his ears, dancing before a shut door and holding up handfuls of currency to a silver-haired woman at an upper window, who only mouthed and shook her head. A little child, carrying a kitten, came smiling round a corner. Suddenly (but these things moved me no more than so many yards of threepenny cinematograph-film) the kitten leaped spitting from her arms, the child burst into tears, Penfentenyou, still dancing, snatched her up and tucked her under his coat, the womans countenance blanched, the front door opened, Penfentenyou and the child pressed through, and I was alone in an inhospitable world where every one was shutting windows and calling children home.
A voice cried: Youve frowtened em! Youve frowtened em! Throw dust on em and theyll settle!
I did not desire to throw dust on any created thing. I needed both hands for my draperies and two more for my stockings. Besides, the bees were doing me no hurt. They recognised me as a member of the County Bee-keepers Association who had paid his annual subscription and was entitled to a free seat at all apicultural exhibitions. The quiver and the churn of the hireling car, or it might have been the lurching banners and the arrogant big drum, inclined many of them to go up street, and pay court to the advancing Foresters band. So they went, such as had not followed Mr. Lingnam in his flight toward the green, and I looked out of two goggled eyes instead of half a one at the approaching musicians, while I listened with both ears to the delayed trains second whistle down the line beneath me.
The Foresters band no more knew what was coming than do troops under sudden fire. Indeed, there were the same extravagant gestures and contortions as attend wounds and deaths in war; the very same uncanny cessations of speechfor the trombone was cut off at midslide, even as a man drops with a syllable on his tongue. They clawed, they slapped, they fled, leaving behind them a trophy of banners and brasses crudely arranged round the big drum. Then that end of the street also shut its windows, and the village, stripped of life, lay round me like a reef at low tide. Though I am, as I have said, an apiarist in good standing, I never realised that there were so many bees in the world. When they had woven a flashing haze from one end of the desert street to the other, there remained reserves enough to form knops and pendules on all window-sills and gutter-ends, without diminishing the multitudes in the three oozing bonnet-boxes, or drawing on the Fourth (Railway) Battalion in charge of the station below. The prisoners in the waiting-rooms and other places there cried out a great deal (I argued that they were dying of the heat), and at regular intervals the stationmaster called and called to a signalman who was not on duty, and the train whistled as it drew nearer.
Then Penfentenyou, venal and adaptable politician of the type that survives at the price of all the higher emotions, appeared at the window of the house on my right, broken and congested with mirth, the woman beside him, and the child in his arms. I saw his mouth open and shut, he hollowed his hands round it, but the churr of the motor and the bees drowned his words. He pointed dramatically across the street many times and fell back, tears running down his face. I turned like a hooded barbette in a heavy seaway (not knowing when my trousers would come out of my socks again) through one hundred and eighty degrees, and in due time bore on the village green. There was a salmon in the pond, rising short at a cloud of midges to the tune of Yip-i-addy; but there was none to gaff him. The swing-boats were empty, cocoa-nuts sat still on their red sticks before white screens, and the gay-painted horses of the giddy-go-rounds revolved riderless, All was melody, green turf, bright water, and this greedy gambolling fish. When I had identified it by its grey gills and binoculars as Lingnam, I prostrated myself before Allah in that mirth which is more truly labour than any prayer. Then I turned to the purple Penfentenycu at the window, and wiped my eyes on the rug edge.
He raised the window half one cautious inch and bellowed through the crack: Did you see him? Have they got you? I can see lots of things from here. Its like a three-ring circus!
Can you see the station? I replied, nodding toward the right rear mudguard.
He twisted and craned sideways, but could not command that beautiful view.
No! Whats it like? he cried.
Hell! I shouted. The silvery-haired woman frowned; so did Penfentenyou, and, I think, apologised to her for my language.
Youre always so extreme, he fluted reproachfully. You forget that nothing matters except the Idea. Besides, they are this ladys bees.
He closed the window, and introduced us through it in dumb show; but he contrived to give the impression that I was the specimen under glass.
A spurt of damp steam saved me from apoplexy. The train had lost patience at last, and was coming into the station directly beneath me to see what was the matter. Happy voices sang and heads were thrust out all along the compartments, but none answered their songs or greetings. She halted, and the people began to get out. Then they began to get in again, as their friends in the waiting-rooms advised. All did not catch the warning, so there was congestion at the doors, but those whom the bees caught got in first.
Still the bees, more bent on their own business than wanton torture, kept to the south end of the platform by the bookstall, and that was why the completely exposed engine-driver at the north end of the train did not at first understand the hermetically sealed stationmaster when the latter shouted to him many times to get on out o this.
Where are you? was the reply. And what for?
It dont matter where I am, an youll get what-for in a minute if you dont shift, said the stationmaster. Drop em at Parsons Meadow and they can walk up over the fields.
That bare-armed, thin-shirted idiot, leaning out of the cab, took the stationmasters orders as an insult to his dignity, and roared at the shut offices: Youll give me what for, will you? Look ere, Im not in the abit of His outstretched hand flew to his neck . . . . Do you know that if you sting an engine-driver it is the same as stinging his train? She starts with a jerk that nearly smashes the couplings, and runs, barking like a dog, till she is out of sight. Nor does she think about spilled people and parted families on the platform behind her. I had to do all that. There was a man called Fred, and his wife Harrieta cheery, full-blooded couplewho interested me immensely before they battered their way into a small detached building, already densely occupied. There was also a nameless bachelor who sat under a half-opened umbrella and twirled it dizzily, which was so new a game that I applauded aloud.
When they had thoroughly cleared the ground, the bees set about making comb for publication at the bookstall counter. Presently some bold hearts tiptoed out of the waiting-rooms over the loud gravel with the consciously modest air of men leaving church, climbed the wooden staircase to the bridge, and so reached my level, where the inexhaustible bonnet-boxes were still vomiting squadrons and platoons. There was little need to bid them descend. They had wrapped their heads in handkerchiefs, so that they looked like the disappointed dead scuttling back to Purgatory. Only one old gentleman, pontifically draped in a banner embroidered Temperance and Fortitude, ran the gauntlet up-street, shouting as he passed me, Its night or Blücher, Mister. They let him in at the White Hart, the pub, where I should have bought the beer.
After this the day sagged. I fell to reckoning how long a man in a Turkish bath, weakened by excessive laughter, could live without food, and specially drink; and how long a disenfranchised bee could hold out under the same conditions.
Obviously, since her one practical joke costs her her life, the bee can have but small sense of humour; but her fundamentally dismal and ungracious outlook on life impressed me beyond words. She had paralysed locomotion, wiped out trade, social intercourse, mutual trust, love, friendship, sport, music (the lonely steam-organ had run down at last), all that gives substance, colour or savour to life, and yet, in the barren desert she had created, was not one whit more near to the evolution of a saner order of things. The Heavens were darkened with the swarms divided counsels; the street shimmered with their purposeless sallies. They clotted on tiles and gutter-pipes, and began frenziedly to build a cell or two of comb ere they discovered that their queen was not with them; then flung off to seek her, or whirled, dishevelled and insane, into another hissing nebula on the false rumour that she was there. I scowled upon them with disfavour, and a massy, blue thunderhead rose majestically from behind the elm-trees of Sumtner Barton Rectory, arched over and scowled with me. Then I realised that it was not bees nor locusts that had darkened the skies, but the oncoming of the malignant English thunderstormthe one thing before which even Deborah the bee cannot express her silly little self.
Aha! Now youll catch it, I said, as the herald gusts set the big drum rolling down the street like a box-kite. Up and up yearned the dark cloud, till the first lightning quivered and cut. Deborah cowered. Where she flew, there she fled; where she was, there she sat still; and the solid rain closed in on her as a book that is closed when the chapter is finished. By the time it had soaked to my second rug, Penfentenyou appeared at the window, wiping his false mouth on a napkin.
Are you all right? he inquired. Then thats all right! Mrs. Bellamy says that her bees dont sting in the wet. Youd better fetch Lingnam over. Hes got to pay for them and the bicycle.
I had no words which the silver-haired lady could listen to, but paddled across the flooded street between flashes to the pond on the green. Mr. Lingnam, scarcely visible through the sheeting downpour, trotted round the edge. He bore himself nobly, and lied at the mere sight of me.
Isnt this wet? he cried. It has drenched me to the skin. I shall need a change.
Come along, I said. I dont know what youll get, but you deserve more.
Penfentenyou, dry, fed, and in command, let us in. You, he whispered to me, are to wait in the scullery. Mrs. Bellamy didnt like the way you talked about her bees. Hsh! Hsh! Shes a kind-hearted lady. Shes a widow, Lingnam, but shes kept his clothes, and as soon as youve paid for the damage shell rent you a suit. Ive arranged it all!
Then tell him he mustnt undress in my hall, said a voice from the stair-head.
Tell her Lingnam began.
Come and look at the pretty suit Ive chosen, Penfentenyou cooed, as one cajoling a maniac.
I staggered out-of-doors again, and fell into the car, whose ever-running machinery masked my yelps and hiccups. When I raised my forehead from the wheel, I saw that traffic through the village had been resumed, after, as my watch showed, one and one-half hours suspension. There were two limousines, one landau, one doctors car, three touring-cars, one patent steam-laundry van, three tricars, one traction-engine, some motorcycles, one with a side-car, and one brewery lorry. It was the allegory of my own imperturbable country, delayed for a short time by unforeseen external events but now going about her business, and I blessed Her with tears in my eyes, even though I knew She looked upon me as drunk and incapable.
Then troops came over the bridge behind mea company of dripping wet Regulars without any expression. In their rear, carrying the lunchbasket, marched the Agent-General and Holford the hired chauffeur.
I say, said the Agent-General, nodding at the darkened khaki backs. If thats what weve got to depend on in event of war theyre a broken reed. They ran like haresran like hares, I tell you.
And you? I asked.
Oh, I just sauntered back over the bridge and stopped the traffic that end. Then I had lunch. Pity about the beer, though. I saythese cushions are sopping wet!
Im sorry, I said. I havent had time to turn em.
Nor there wasnt any need to ave kept the engine runnin all this time, said Holford sternly. Ill ave to account for the expenditure of petrol. It exceeds the mileage indicated, you see.
Im sorry, I repeated. After all, that is the way that taxpayers regard most crises.
The house-door opened and Penfentenyou and another came out into the now thinning rain.
Ah! There you both are! Heres Lingnam, he cried. Hes got a little wet. Hes had to change.
We saw that. I was too sore and weak to begin another laugh, but the Agent-General crumpled up where he stood. The late Mr. Bellamy must have been a man of tremendous personality, which he had impressed on every angle of his garments. I was told later that he had died in delirium tremens, which at once explained the pattern, and the reason why Mr. Lingnam, writhing inside it, swore so inspiredly. Of the deliberate and diffuse Federationist there remained no trace, save the binoculars and two damp whiskers. We stood on the pavement, before Elemental Man calling on Elemental Powers to condemn and incinerate Creation.
Well, hadnt we better be getting back? said the Agent-General.
Look out! I remarked casually. Those bonnet-boxes are full of bees still!
Are they? said the livid Mr. Lingnam, and tilted them over with the late Mr. Bellamys large boots. Deborah rolled out in drenched lumps into the swilling gutter. There was a muffled shriek at the window where Mrs. Bellamy gesticulated.
Its all right. Ive paid for them, said Mr. Lingnam. He dumped out the last dregs like mould from a pot-bound flower-pot.
What? Are you going to take em home with you?said the Agent-General.
No! He passed a wet hand over his streaky forehead. Wasnt there a bicycle that was the beginning of this trouble? said he.
Its under the fore-axle, sir, said Holford promptly. I can fish it out from ere.
Not till Ive done with it, please. Before we could stop him, he had jumped into the car and taken charge. The hireling leaped into her collar, surged, shrieked (less loudly than Mrs. Bellamy at the window), and swept on. That which came out behind her was, as Holford truly observed, no joy-wheel. Mr. Lingnam swung round the big drum in the market-place and thundered back, shouting: Leave it alone. Its my meat!
Mince-meat, e means, said Holford after this second trituration. You couldnt say now it ad ever been one, could you?
Mrs. Bellamy opened the window and spoke. It appears she had only charged for damage to the bicycle, not for the entire machine which Mr. Lingnam was ruthlessly gleaning, spoke by spoke, from the highway and cramming into the slack of the hood. At last he answered, and I have never seen a man foam at the mouth before. If you dont stop, I shall come into your housein this carand drive upstairs andkill you!
She stopped; he stopped. Holford took the wheel, and we got away. It was time, for the sun shone after the storm, and Deborah beneath the tiles and the eaves already felt its reviving influence compel her to her interrupted labours of federation. We warned the village policeman at the far end of the street that he might have to suspend traffic again. The proprietor of the giddy-go-round, swings, and cocoanut-shies wanted to know from whom, in this world or another, he could recover damages. Mr. Lingnam referred him most directly to Mrs. Bellamy . . . . Then we went home.
After dinner that evening Mr. Lingnam rose stiffly in his place to make a few remarks on the Federation of the Empire on the lines of Coordinated, Offensive Operations, backed by the Entire Effective Forces, Moral, Military and Fiscal, of Permanently Mobilised Communities, the whole brought to bear, without any respect to the merits of any casus belli, instantaneously, automatically, and remorselessly at the first faint buzz of war.
The trouble with Us, said he, is that We take such an infernally long time making sure that We are right that We dont go ahead when things happen. For instance, I ought to have gone ahead instead of pulling up when I hit that bicycle.
But you were in the wrong, Lingnam, when you turned to the right, I put in.
I dont want to hear any more of your damned, detached, mugwumping excuses for the other fellow, he snapped.
Now youre beginning to see things, said Penfentenyou. I hope you wont backslide when the swellings go down.
I WAS Lord of Cities very sumptuously builded. Seven roaring Cities paid me tribute from afar. Ivory their outposts werethe guardrooms of them gilded, And garrisoned with Amazons invincible in war.
All the world went softly when it walked before my Cities
Banded, mailed and arrogant from sunrise unto sunset;
So they warred and trafficked only yesterday, my Cities.
Rain on rain-gorged channels raised the water-levels round them,
Low among the alders lie their derelict foundations,
The Daughters of the Palace whom they cherished in my Cities,
I was Lord of CitiesI will build anew my Cities,
To the sound of trumpets shall their seed restore my Cities |
Of a sudden she noticed that an imitation-lace cover which should have lain mathematically square with the imitation-marble top of the radiator behind the green plush sofa had slipped away so that one corner hung over the bronze-painted steam pipes. She recalled that she must have rested her poor head against the radiator-top while she was taking off her boots. She tried to get up and set the thing straight, but the radiator at once receded toward the horizon, which, unlike true horizons, slanted diagonally, exactly parallel with the dropped lace edge of the cover. Frau Ebermann groaned through sticky lips and lay still.
Certainly, I have a temperature, she said. Certainly, I have a grave temperature. I should have been warned by that chill after dinner.
She resolved to shut her hot-lidded eyes, but opened them in a little while to torture herself with the knowledge of that ungeometrical thing against the far wall. Then she saw a childan untidy, thin-faced little girl of about ten, who must have strayed in from the adjoining flat. This provedFrau Ebermann groaned again at the way the world falls to bits when one is sickproved that Anna had forgotten to shut the outer door of the flat when she went to the chemist. Frau Ebermann had had children of her own, but they were all grown up now, and she had never been a child-lover in any sense. Yet the intruder might be made to serve her scheme of things.
Makeput, she muttered thickly, that white thing straight on the top of that yellow thing.
The child paid no attention, but moved about the room, investigating everything that came in her waythe yellow cut-glass handles of the chest of drawers, the stamped bronze hook to hold back the heavy puce curtains, and the mauve enamel, New Art finger-plates on the door. Frau Ebermann watched indignantly.
Aie! That is bad and rude. Go away! she cried, though it hurt her to raise her voice. Go away by the road you came! The child passed behind the bed-foot, where she could not see her. Shut the door as you go. I will speak to Anna, butfirst, put that white thing straight.
She closed her eyes in misery of body and soul. The outer door clicked, and Anna entered, very penitent that she had stayed so long at the chemists. But it had been difficult to find the proper type of inhaler, and
Where did the child go? moaned Frau Ebermannthe child that was here?
There was no child, said startled Anna. How should any child come in when I shut the door behind me after I go out? All the keys of the flats are different.
No, no! You forgot this time. But my back is aching, and up my legs also. Besides, who knows what it may have fingered and upset? Look and see.
Nothing is fingered, nothing is upset, Anna replied, as she took the inhaler from its paper box.
Yes, there is. Now I remember all about it. Putput that white thing, with the open edgethe lace, I meanquite straight on that she pointed. Anna, accustomed to her ways, understood and went to it.
Now, is it quite straight? Frau Ebermann demanded.
Perfectly, said Anna. In fact, in the very centre of the radiator. Anna measured the equal margins with her knuckle, as she had been told to do when she first took service.
And my tortoise-shell hair brushes? Fran Ebermann could not command her dressing-table from where she lay.
Perfectly straight, side by side in the big tray, and the comb laid across them. Your watch also in the coralline watch-holder. Everythingshe moved round the room to make sureeverything is as you have it when you are well. Frau Ebermann sighed with relief. It seemed to her that the room and her head had suddenly grown cooler.
Good! said she. Now warm my nightgown in the kitchen, so it will be ready when I have perspired. And the towels also. Make the inhaler steam, and put in the eucalyptus; that is good for the larynx. Then sit you in the kitchen, and come when I ring. But, first, my hot-water bottle.
It was brought and scientifically tucked in.
What news? said Frau Ebermann drowsily. She had not been out that day.
Another victory, said Anna. Many more prisoners and guns.
Frau Ebermann purred, one might almost say grunted, contentedly.
That is good too, she said; and Anna, after lighting the inhaler-lamp, went out.
Frau Ebermann reflected that in an hour or so the aspirin would begin to work, and all would be well. To-morrowno, the day aftershe would take up life with something to talk over with her friends at coffee. It was rareevery one knew itthat she should be overcome by any ailment. Yet in all her distresses she had not allowed the minutest deviation from daily routine and ritual. She would tell her friendsshe ran over their names one by oneexactly what measures she had taken against the lace cover on the radiatortop and in regard to her two tortoise-shell hairbrushes and the comb at right angles. How she had set everything in ordereverything in order. She roved further afield as she wriggled her toes luxuriously on the hot-water bottle. If it pleased our dear God to take her to Himself, and she was not so young as she had beenthere was that plate of the four lower ones in the blue tooth-glass, for instanceHe should find all her belongings fit to meet His eye. Swept and garnished were the words that shaped themselves in her intent brain. Swept and garnished for
No, it was certainly not for the dear Lord that she had swept; she would have her room swept out to-morrow or the day after, and garnished. Her hands began to swell again into huge pillows of nothingness. Then they shrank, and so did her head, to minute dots. It occurred to her that she was waiting for some event, some tremendously important event, to come to pass. She lay with shut eyes for a long time till her head and hands should return to their proper size.
She opened her eyes with a jerk.
How stupid of me, she said aloud, to set the room in order for a parcel of dirty little children!
They were therefive of them, two little boys and three girlsheaded by the anxious-eyed ten-year-old whom she had seen before. They must have entered by the outer door, which Anna had neglected to shut behind her when she returned with the inhaler. She counted them backward and forward as one counts scalesone, two, three, four, five.
They took no notice of her, but hung about, first on one foot then on the other, like strayed chickens, the smaller ones holding by the larger. They had the air of utterly wearied passengers in a railway waiting-room, and their clothes were disgracefully dirty.
Go away! cried Frau Ebermann at last, after she had struggled, it seemed to her, for years to shape the words.
You called? said Anna at the living-room door.
No, said her mistress. Did you shut the flat door when you came in?
Assuredly, said Anna. Besides, it is made to catch shut of itself.
Then go away, said she, very little above a whisper. If Anna pretended not to see the children, she would speak to Anna later on.
And now, she said, turning toward them as soon as the door closed. The smallest of the crowd smiled at her, and shook his head before he buried it in his sisters skirts.
Whydontyougoaway? she whispered earnestly.
Again they took no notice, but, guided by the elder girl, set themselves to climb, boots and all, on to the green plush sofa in front of the radiator. The little boys had to be pushed, as they could not compass the stretch unaided. They settled themselves in a row, with small gasps of relief, and pawed the plush approvingly.
I ask youI ask you why do you not go awaywhy do you not go away? Frau Ebermann found herself repeating the question twenty times. It seemed to her that everything in the world hung on the answer. You know you should not come into houses and rooms unless you are invited. Not houses and bedrooms, you know.
No, a solemn little six-year-old repeated, not houses nor bedrooms, nor dining-rooms, nor churches, nor all those places. Shouldnt come in. Its rude.
Yes, he said so, the younger girl put in proudly. He said it. He told them only pigs would do that. The line nodded and dimpled one to another with little explosive giggles, such as children use when they tell deeds of great daring against their elders.
If you know it is wrong, that makes it much worse, said Frau Ebermann.
Oh yes; much worse, they assented cheerfully, till the smallest boy changed his smile to a baby wail of weariness.
When will they come for us? he asked, and the girl at the head of the row hauled him bodily into her square little capable lap.
Hes tired, she explained. He is only four. He only had his first breeches this spring. They came almost under his armpits, and were held up by broad linen braces, which, his sorrow diverted for the moment, he patted proudly.
Yes, beautiful, dear, said both girls.
Go away! said Frau Ebermann. Go home to your father and mother!
Their faces grew grave at once.
Hsh! We cant, whispered the eldest There isnt anything left.
All gone, a boy echoed, and he puffed through pursed lips. Like that, uncle told me. Both cows too.
And my own three ducks, the boy on the girls lap said sleepily.
So, you see, we came here. The elder girl leaned forward a little, caressing the child she rocked.
II dont understand, said Frau Ebermann. Are you lost, then? You must tell our police.
Oh no; we are only waiting.
But what are you waiting for?
We are waiting for our people to come for us. They told us to come here and wait for them. So we are waiting till they come, the eldest girl replied.
Yes. We are waiting till our people come for us, said all the others in chorus.
But, said Frau Ebermann very patientlybut now tell me, for I tell you that I am not in the least angry, where do you come from? Where do you come from?
The five gave the names of two villages of which she had read in the papers.
That is silly, said Frau Ebermann. The people fired on us, and they were punished. Those places are wiped out, stamped flat.
Yes, yes, wiped out, stamped flat. That is why andI have lost the ribbon off my pigtail, said the younger girl. She looked behind her over the sofa-back.
It is not here, said the elder. It was lost before. Dont you remember?
Now, if you are lost, you must go and tell our police. They will take care of you and give you food, said Frau Ebermann. Anna will show you the way there.
No,this was the six-year-old with the smile,we must wait here till our people come for us. Mustnt we, sister?
Of course. We wait here till our people come for us. All the world knows that, said the eldest girl.
Yes. The boy in her lap had waked again. Little children, tooas little as Henri, and he doesnt wear trousers yet. As little as all that.
I dont understand, said Frau Ebermann, shivering. In spite of the heat of the room and the damp breath of the steam-inhaler, the aspirin was not doing its duty.
The girl raised her blue eyes and looked at the woman for an instant.
You see, she said, emphasising her statements with her fingers, they told us to wait here till our people came for us. So we came. We wait till our people come for us.
That is silly again, said Frau Ebermann. It is no good for you to wait here. Do you know what this place is? You have been to school? It is Berlin, the capital of Germany.
Yes, yes, they all cried; Berlin, capital of Germany. We know that. That is why we came.
So, you see, it is no good, she said triumphantly, because your people can never come for you here.
They told us to come here and wait till our people came for us. They delivered this as if it were a lesson in school. Then they sat still, their hands orderly folded on their laps, smiling as sweetly as ever.
Go away! Go away!Frau Ebermann shrieked.
You called? said Anna, entering.
No. Go away! Go away!
Very good, old cat, said the maid under her breath. Next time you may call, and she returned to her friend in the kitchen.
I ask youask you, please to go away, Frau Ebermann pleaded. Go to my Anna through that door, and she will give you cakes and sweeties. It is not kind of you to come into my room and behave so badly.
Where else shall we go now? the elder girl demanded, turning to her little company. They fell into discussion. One preferred the broad street with trees, another the railway station; but when she suggested an Emperors palace, they agreed with her.
We will go then, she said, and added half apologetically to Frau Ebermann, You see, they are so little they like to meet all the others.
What others? said Frau Ebermann.
The othershundreds and hundreds and thousands and thousands of the others.
That is a lie. There cannot be a hundred even, much less a thousand, cried Frau Ebermann.
So? said the girl politely.
Yes. I tell you; and I have very good information. I know how it happened. You should have been more careful. You should not have run out to see the horses and guns passing. That is how it is done when our troops pass through. My son has written me so.
They had clambered down from the sofa, and gathered round the bed with eager, interested eyes.
Horses and guns going byhow fine! some one whispered.
Yes, yes; believe me, that is how the accidents to the children happen. You must know yourself that it is true. One runs out to look
But I never saw any at all, a boy cried sorrowfully. Only one noise I heard. That was when Aunt Emmelines house fell down.
But listen to me. I am telling you! One runs out to look, because one is little and cannot see well. So one peeps between the mans legs, and thenyou know how close those big horses and guns turn the cornersthen ones foot slips and one gets run over. Thats how it happens. Several times it had happened, but not many times; certainly not a hundred, perhaps not twenty. So, you see, you must be all. Tell me now that you are all that there are, and Anna shall give you the cakes.
Thousands, a boy repeated monotonously. Then we all come here to wait till our people come for us.
But now we will go away from here. The poor lady is tired, said the elder girl, plucking his sleeve.
Oh, you hurt, you hurt! he cried, and burst into tears.
What is that for? said Frau Ebermann. To cry in a room where a poor lady is sick is very inconsiderate.
Oh, but look, lady! said the elder girl.
Frau Ebermann looked and saw.
Au revoir, lady. They made their little smiling bows and curtseys undisturbed by her loud cries. Au revoir, lady. We will wait till our people come for us.
When Anna at last ran in, she found her mistress on her knees, busily cleaning the floor with the lace cover from the radiator, because, she explained, it was all spotted with the blood of five childrenshe was perfectly certain there could not be more than five in the whole worldwho had gone away for the moment, but were now waiting round the corner, and Anna was to find them and give them cakes to stop the bleeding, while her mistress swept and garnished that Our dear Lord when He came might find everything as it should be.
Miss Fowler engaged her on this recommendation, and to her surprise, for she had had experience of companions, found that it was true. Miss Fowler was nearer sixty than fifty at the time, but though she needed care she did not exhaust her attendants vitality. On the contrary, she gave out, stimulatingly and with reminiscences. Her father had been a minor Court official in the days when the Great Exhibition of 1851 had just set its seal on Civilisation made perfect. Some of Miss Fowlers tales, none the less, were not always for the young. Mary was not young, and though her speech was as colourless as her eyes or her hair, she was never shocked. She listened unflinchingly to every one; said at the end, How interesting! or How shocking! as the case might be, and never again referred to it, for she prided herself on a trained mind, which did not dwell on these things. She was, too, a treasure at domestic accounts, for which the village tradesmen, with their weekly books, loved her not. Otherwise she had no enemies; provoked no jealousy even among the plainest; neither gossip nor slander had ever been traced to her; she supplied the odd place at the Rectors or the Doctors table at half an hours notice; she was a sort of public aunt to very many small children of the village street, whose parents, while accepting everything, would have been swift to resent what they called patronage; she served on the Village Nursing Committee as Miss Fowlers nominee when Miss Fowler was crippled by rheumatoid arthritis, and came out of six months fortnightly meetings equally respected by all the cliques.
And when Fate threw Miss Fowlers nephew, an unlovely orphan of eleven, on Miss Fowlers hands, Mary Postgate stood to her share of the business of education as practised in private and public schools. She checked printed clothes-lists, and unitemised bills of extras; wrote to Head and House masters, matrons, nurses and doctors, and grieved or rejoiced over half-term reports. Young Wyndham Fowler repaid her in his holidays by calling her Gatepost, Postey, or Packthread, by thumping her between her narrow shoulders, or by chasing her bleating, round the garden, her large mouth open, her large nose high in air, at a stiff necked shamble very like a camels. Later on he filled the house with clamour, argument, and harangues as to his personal needs, likes and dislikes, and the limitations of you women, reducing Mary to tears of physical fatigue, or, when he chose to be humorous, of helpless laughter. At crises, which multiplied as he grew older, she was his ambassadress and his interpretress to Miss Fowler, who had no large sympathy with the young; a vote in his interest at the councils on his future; his sewing-woman, strictly accountable for mislaid boots and garments; always his butt and his slave.
And when he decided to become a solicitor, and had entered an office in London; when his greeting had changed from Hullo, Postey, you old beast, to Mornin, Packthread, there came a war which, unlike all wars that Mary could remember, did not stay decently outside England and in the newspapers, but intruded on the lives of people whom she knew. As she said to Miss Fowler, it was most vexatious. It took the Rectors son who was going into business with his elder brother; it took the Colonels nephew on the eve of fruit-farming in Canada; it took Mrs. Grants son who, his mother said, was devoted to the ministry; and, very early indeed, it took Wynn Fowler, who announced on a postcard that he had joined the Flying Corps and wanted a cardigan waistcoat.
He must go, and he must have the waistcoat, said Miss Fowler. So Mary got the proper-sized needles and wool, while Miss Fowler told the men of her establishmenttwo gardeners and an odd man, aged sixtythat those who could join the Army had better do so. The gardeners left. Cheape, the odd man, stayed on, and was promoted to the gardeners cottage. The cook, scorning to be limited in luxuries, also left, after a spirited scene with Miss Fowler, and took the housemaid with her. Miss Fowler gazetted Nellie, Cheapes seventeen-year-old daughter, to the vacant post; Mrs. Cheape to the rank of cook, with occasional cleaning bouts; and the reduced establishment moved forward smoothly.
Wynn demanded an increase in his allowance. Miss Fowler, who always looked facts in the face, said, He must have it. The chances are he wont live long to draw it, and if three hundred makes him happy
Wynn was grateful, and came over, in his tight-buttoned uniform, to say so. His training centre was not thirty miles away, and his talk was so technical that it had to be explained by charts of the various types of machines. He gave Mary such a chart.
And youd better study it, Postey, he said. Youll be seeing a lot of em soon. So Mary studied the chart, but when Wynn next arrived to swell and exalt himself before his womenfolk, she failed badly in cross-examination, and he rated her as in the old days.
You look more or less like a human being, he said in his new Service voice. You must have had a brain at some time in your past. What have you done with it? Where dyou keep it? A sheep would know more than you do, Postey. Youre lamentable. You are less use than an empty tin can, you dowey old cassowary.
I suppose thats how your superior officer talks to you? said Miss Fowler from her chair.
But Postey doesnt mind, Wynn replied. Do you, Packthread?
Why? Was Wynn saying anything? I shall get this right next time you come, she muttered, and knitted her pale brows again over the diagrams of Taubes, Farmans, and Zeppelins.
In a few weeks the mere land and sea battles which she read to Miss Fowler after breakfast passed her like idle breath. Her heart and her interest were high in the air with Wynn, who had finished rolling (whatever that might be) and had gone on from a taxi to a machine more or less his own. One morning it circled over their very chimneys, alighted on Veggs Heath, almost outside the garden gate, and Wynn came in, blue with cold, shouting for food. He and she drew Miss Fowlers bath-chair, as they had often done, along the Heath foot-path to look at the biplane. Mary observed that it smelt very badly.
Postey, I believe you think with your nose, said Lynn. I know you dont with your mind. Now, what types that?
Ill go and get the chart, said Mary.
Youre hopeless! You havent the mental capacity of a white mouse, he cried, and explained the dials and the sockets for bomb-dropping till it was time to mount and ride the wet clouds once more.
Ah! said Mary, as the stinking thing flared upward. Wait till our Flying Corps gets to work! Wynn says its much safer than in the trenches.
I wonder, said Miss Fowler. Tell Cheape to come and tow me home again.
Its all downhill. I can do it, said Mary, if you put the brake on. She laid her lean self against the pushing-bar and home they trundled.
Now, be careful you arent heated and catch a chill, said overdressed Miss Fowler.
Nothing makes me perspire, said Mary. As she bumped the chair under the porch she straightened her long back. The exertion had given her a colour, and the wind had loosened a wisp of hair across her forehead. Miss Fowler glanced at her.
What do you ever think of, Mary? she demanded suddenly.
Oh, Wynn says he wants another three pairs of stockingsas thick as we can make them.
Yes. But I mean the things that women think about. Here you are, more than forty
Forty-four, said truthful Mary.
Well?
Well? Mary offered Miss Fowler her shoulder as usual.
And youve been with me ten years now.
Lets see, said Mary. Wynn was eleven when he came. Hes twenty now, and I came two years before that. It must be eleven.
Eleven! And youve never told me anything that matters in all that while. Looking back, it seems to me that Ive done all the talking.
Im afraid Im not much of a conversationalist. As Wynn says, I havent the mind. Let me take your hat.
Miss Fowler, moving stiffly from the hip, stamped her rubber-tipped stick on the tiled hall floor. Mary, arent you anything except a companion? Would you ever have been anything except a companion?
Mary hung up the garden hat on its proper peg. No, she said after consideration. I dont imagine I ever should. But Ive no imagination, Im afraid.
She fetched Miss Fowler her eleven-oclock glass of Contrexeville.
That was the wet December when it rained six inches to the month, and the women went abroad as little as might be. Wynns flying chariot visited them several times, and for two mornings (he had warned her by postcard) Mary heard the thresh of his propellers at dawn. The second time she ran to the window, and stared at the whitening sky. A little blur passed overhead. She lifted her lean arms towards it.
That evening at six oclock there came an announcement in an official envelope that Second Lieutenant W. Fowler had been killed during a trial flight. Death was instantaneous. She read it and carried it to Miss Fowler.
I never expected anything else, said Miss Fowler; but Im sorry it happened before he had done anything.
The room was whirling round Mary Postgate, but she found herself quite steady in the midst of it.
Yes, she said. Its a great pity he didnt die in action after he had killed somebody.
He was killed instantly. Thats one comfort, Miss Fowler went on.
But Wynn says the shock of a fall kills a man at oncewhatever happens to the tanks, quoted Mary.
The room was coming to rest now. She heard Miss Fowler say impatiently, But why cant we cry, Mary? and herself replying, Theres nothing to cry for. He has done his duty as much as Mrs. Grants son did.
And when he died, she came and cried all the morning, said Miss Fowler. This only makes me feel tiredterribly tired. Will you help me to bed, please, Mary?And I think Id like the hot-water bottle.
So Mary helped her and sat beside, talking of Wynn in his riotous youth.
I believe, said Miss Fowler suddenly, that old people and young people slip from under a stroke like this. The middle-aged feel it most.
I expect thats true, said Mary, rising. Im going to put away the things in his room now. Shall we wear mourning?
Certainly not, said Miss Fowler. Except, of course, at the funeral. I cant go. You will. I want you to arrange about his being buried here. What a blessing it didnt happen at Salisbury!
Every one, from the Authorities of the Flying Corps to the Rector, was most kind and sympathetic. Mary found herself for the moment in a world where bodies were in the habit of being despatched by all sorts of conveyances to all sorts of places. And at the funeral two young men in buttoned-up uniforms stood beside the grave and spoke to her afterwards.
Youre Miss Postgate, arent you? said one.
Fowler told me about you. He was a good chapa first-class fellowa great loss.
Great loss! growled his companion. Were all awfully sorry.
How high did he fall from? Mary whispered.
Pretty nearly four thousand feet, I should think, didnt he? You were up that day, Monkey?
All of that, the other child replied. My bar made three thousand, and I wasnt as high as him by a lot.
Then thats all right, said Mary. Thank you very much.
They moved away as Mrs. Grant flung herself weeping on Marys flat chest, under the lych-gate, and cried, I know how it feels! I know how it feels!
But both his parents are dead, Mary returned, as she fended her off. Perhaps theyve all met by now, she added vaguely as she escaped towards the coach.
Ive thought of that too, wailed Mrs. Grant; but then hell be practically a stranger to them. Quite embarrassing!
Mary faithfully reported every detail of the ceremony to Miss Fowler, who, when she described Mrs. Grants outburst, laughed aloud.
Oh, how Wynn would have enjoyed it! He was always utterly unreliable at funerals. Dyou remember And they talked of him again, each piecing out the others gaps. And now, said Miss Fowler, well pull up the blinds and well have a general tidy. That always does us good. Have you seen to Wynns things?
Everythingsince he first came, said Mary. He was never destructiveeven with his toys.
They faced that neat room.
It cant be natural not to cry, Mary said at last. Im so afraid youll have a reaction.
As I told you, we old people slip from under the stroke. Its you Im afraid for. Have you cried yet?
I cant. It only makes me angry with the Germans.
Thats sheer waste of vitality, said Miss Fowler. We must live till the wars finished. She opened a full wardrobe. Now, Ive been thinking things over. This is my plan. All his civilian clothes can be given awayBelgian refugees, and so on.
Mary nodded. Boots, collars, and gloves?
Yes. We dont need to keep anything except his cap and belt.
They came back yesterday with his Flying Corps clothesMary pointed to a roll on the little iron bed.
Ah, but keep his Service things. Some one may be glad of them later. Do you remember his sizes?
Five feet eight and a half; thirty-six inches round the chest. But he told me hes just put on an inch and a half. Ill mark it on a label and tie it on his sleeping-bag.
So that disposes of that, said Miss Fowler, tapping the palm of one hand with the ringed third finger of the other. What waste it all is! Well get his old school trunk to-morrow and pack his civilian clothes.
And the rest? said Mary. His books and pictures and the games and the toysandand the rest?
My plan is to burn every single thing, said Miss Fowler. Then we shall know where they are and no one can handle them afterwards. What do you think?
I think that would be much the best, said Mary. But theres such a lot of them.
Well burn them in the destructor, said Miss Fowler.
This was an open-air furnace for the consumption of refuse; a little circular four-foot tower of pierced brick over an iron grating. Miss Fowler had noticed the design in a gardening journal years ago, and had had it built at the bottom of the garden. It suited her tidy soul, for it saved unsightly rubbish-heaps, and the ashes lightened the stiff clay soil.
Mary considered for a moment, saw her way clear, and nodded again. They spent the evening putting away well-remembered civilian suits, underclothes that Mary had marked, and the regiments of very gaudy socks and ties. A second trunk was needed, and, after that, a little packing-case, and it was late next day when Cheape and the local carrier lifted them to the cart. The Rector luckily knew of a friends son, about five feet eight and a half inches high, to whom a complete Flying Corps outfit would be most acceptable, and sent his gardeners son down with a barrow to take delivery of it. The cap was hung up in Miss Fowlers bedroom, the belt in Miss Postgates; for, as Miss Fowler said, they had no desire to make tea-party talk of them.
That disposes of that, said Miss Fowler. Ill leave the rest to you, Mary. I cant run up and down the garden. Youd better take the big clothes-basket and get Nellie to help you.
I shall take the wheel-barrow and do it myself, said Mary, and for once in her life closed her mouth.
Miss Fowler, in moments of irritation, had called Mary deadly methodical. She put on her oldest waterproof and gardening-hat and her ever-slipping goloshes, for the weather was on the edge of more rain. She gathered fire-lighters from the kitchen, a half-scuttle of coals, and a faggot of brushwood. These she wheeled in the barrow down the mossed paths to the dank little laurel shrubbery where the destructor stood under the drip of three oaks. She climbed the wire fence into the Rectors glebe just behind, and from his tenants rick pulled two large armfuls of good hay, which she spread neatly on the fire-bars. Next, journey by journey, passing Miss Fowlers white face at the morning-room window each time, she brought down in the towel-covered clothes-basket, on the wheelbarrow, thumbed and used Hentys, Marryats, Levers, Stevensons, Baroness Orczys, Garvices, schoolbooks, and atlases, unrelated piles of the Motor Cyclist, the Light Car, and catalogues of Olympia Exhibitions; the remnants of a fleet of sailing-ships from nine-penny cutters to a three-guinea yacht; a prep. school dressing-gown; bats from three-and-sixpence to twenty-four shillings; cricket and tennis balls; disintegrated steam and clockwork locomotives with their twisted rails; a grey and red tin model of a submarine; a dumb gramophone and cracked records; golf-clubs that had to be broken across the knee, like his walking-sticks, and an assegai; photographs of private and public school cricket and football elevens, and his O.T.C. on the line of march; kodaks, and film-rolls; some pewters, and one real silver cup, for boxing competitions and junior Hurdles; sheaves of school photographs; Miss Fowlers photograph; her own which he had borne off in fun and (good care she took not to ask!) had never returned; a playbox with a secret drawer; a load of flannels, belts, and jerseys, and a pair of spiked shoes unearthed in the attic; a packet of all the letters that Miss Fowler and she had ever written to him, kept for some absurd reason through all these years; a five-day attempt at a diary; framed pictures of racing motors in full Brooklands career, and load upon load of undistinguishable wreckage of tool-boxes, rabbit-hutches, electric batteries, tin soldiers, fret-saw outfits, and jig-saw puzzles.
Miss Fowler at the window watched her come and go, and said to herself, Marys an old woman. I never realised it before.
After lunch she recommended her to rest.
Im not in the least tired, said Mary. Ive got it all arranged. Im going to the village at two oclock for some paraffin. Nellie hasnt enough, and the walk will do me good.
She made one last quest round the house before she started, and found that she had overlooked nothing. It began to mist as soon as she had skirted Veggs Heath, where Wynn used to descendit seemed to her that she could almost hear the beat of his propellers overhead, but there was nothing to see. She hoisted her umbrella and lunged into the blind wet till she had reached the shelter of the empty village. As she came out of Mr. Kidds shop with a bottle full of paraffin in her string shopping-bag, she met Nurse Eden, the village nurse, and fell into talk with her, as usual, about the village children. They were just parting opposite the Royal Oak, when a gun, they fancied, was fired immediately behind the house. It was followed by a childs shriek dying into a wail.
Accident! said Nurse Eden promptly, and dashed through the empty bar, followed by Mary. They found Mrs. Gerritt, the publicans wife, who could only gasp and point to the yard, where a little cart-lodge was sliding sideways amid a clatter of tiles. Nurse Eden snatched up a sheet drying before the fire, ran out, lifted something from the ground, and flung the sheet round it. The sheet turned scarlet and half her uniform too, as she bore the load into the kitchen. It was little Edna Gerritt, aged nine, whom Mary had known since her perambulator days.
Am I hurted bad? Edna asked, and died between Nurse Edens dripping hands. The sheet fell aside and for an instant, before she could shut her eyes, Mary saw the ripped and shredded body.
Its a wonder she spoke at all, said Nurse Eden. What in Gods name was it?
A bomb, said Mary.
One o the Zeppelins?
No. An aeroplane. I thought I heard it on the Heath, but I fancied it was one of ours. It must have shut of its engines as it came down. Thats why we didnt notice it.
The filthy pigs! said Nurse Eden, all white and shaken. See the pickle Im in! Go and tell Dr. Hennis, Miss Postgate. Nurse looked at the mother, who had dropped face down on the floor. Shes only in a fit. Turn her over.
Mary heaved Mrs. Gerritt right side up, and hurried off for the doctor. When she told her tale, he asked her to sit down in the surgery till he got her something.
But I dont need it, I assure you, said she. I dont think it would be wise to tell Miss Fowler about it, do you? Her heart is so irritable in this weather.
Dr. Hennis looked at her admiringly as he packed up his bag.
No. Dont tell anybody till were sure, he said, and hastened to the Royal Oak, while Mary went on with the paraffin. The village behind her was as quiet as usual, for the news had not yet spread. She frowned a little to herself, her large nostrils expanded uglily, and from time to time she muttered a phrase which Wynn, who never restrained himself before his women-folk, had applied to the enemy. Bloody pagans! They are bloody pagans. But, she continued, falling back on the teaching that had made her what she was, one mustnt let ones mind dwell on these things.
Before she reached the house Dr. Hennis, who was also a special constable, overtook her in his car.
Oh, Miss Postgate, he said, I wanted to tell you that that accident at the Royal Oak was due to Gerritts stable tumbling down. Its been dangerous for a long time. It ought to have been condemned.
I thought I heard an explosion too, said Mary.
You might have been misled by the beams snapping. Ive been looking at em. They were dry-rotted through and through. Of course, as they broke, they would make a noise just like a gun.
Yes? said Mary politely.
Poor little Edna was playing underneath it, he went on, still holding her with his eyes, and that and the tiles cut her to pieces, you see?
I saw it, said Mary, shaking her head. I heard it too.
Well, we cannot be sure. Dr. Hennis changed his tone completely. I know both you and Nurse Eden (Ive been speaking to her) are perfectly trustworthy, and I can rely on you not to say anythingyet at least. It is no good to stir up people unless
Oh, I never doanyhow, said Mary, and Dr. Hennis went on to the county town.
After all, she told herself, it might, just possibly, have been the collapse of the old stable that had done all those things to poor little Edna. She was sorry she had even hinted at other things, but Nurse Eden was discretion itself. By the time she reached home the affair seemed increasingly remote by its very monstrosity. As she came in, Miss Fowler told her that a couple of aeroplanes had passed half an hour ago.
I thought I heard them, she replied, Im going down to the garden now. Ive got the paraffin.
Yes, butwhat have you got on your boots? Theyre soaking wet. Change them at once.
Not only did Mary obey but she wrapped the boots in a newspaper, and put them into the string bag with the bottle. So, armed with the longest kitchen poker, she left.
Its raining again, was Miss Fowlers last word, butI know you wont be happy till thats disposed of.
It wont take long. Ive got everything down there, and Ive put the lid on the destructor to keep the wet out.
The shrubbery was filling with twilight by the time she had completed her arrangements and sprinkled the sacrificial oil. As she lit the match that would burn her heart to ashes, she heard a groan or a grunt behind the dense Portugal laurels.
Cheape? she called impatiently, but Cheape, with his ancient lumbago, in his comfortable cottage would be the last man to profane the sanctuary. Sheep, she concluded, and threw in the fusee. The pyre went up in a roar, and the immediate flame hastened night around her.
How Wynn would have loved this! she thought, stepping back from the blaze.
By its light she saw, half hidden behind a laurel not five paces away, a bareheaded man sitting very stiffly at the foot of one of the oaks. A broken branch lay across his lapone booted leg protruding from beneath it. His head moved ceaselessly from side to side, but his body was as still as the trees trunk. He was dressedshe moved sideways to look more closelyin a uniform something like Wynns, with a flap buttoned across the chest. For an instant, she had some idea that it might be one of the young flying men she had met at the funeral. But their heads were dark and glossy. This mans was as pale as a babys, and so closely cropped that she could see the disgusting pinky skin beneath. His lips moved.
What do you say? Mary moved towards him and stooped.
Laty! Laty! Laty! he muttered, while his hands picked at the dead wet leaves. There was no doubt as to his nationality. It made her so angry that she strode back to the destructor, though it was still too hot to use the poker there. Wynns books seemed to be catching well. She looked up at the oak behind the man; several of the light upper and two or three rotten lower branches had broken and scattered their rubbish on the shrubbery path. On the lowest fork a helmet with dependent strings, showed like a birds-nest in the light of along-tongued flame. Evidently this person had fallen through the tree. Wynn had told her that it was quite possible for people to fall out of aeroplanes. Wynn told her too, that trees were useful things to break an aviators fall, but in this case the aviator must have been broken or he would have moved from his queer position. He seemed helpless except for his horrible rolling head. On the other hand, she could see a pistol case at his beltand Mary loathed pistols. Months ago, after reading certain Belgian reports together, she and Miss Fowler had had dealings with onea huge revolver with flat-nosed bullets, which latter, Wynn said, were forbidden by the rules of war to be used against civilised enemies. Theyre good enough for us, Miss Fowler had replied. Show Mary how it works. And Wynn, laughing at the mere possibility of any such need, had led the craven winking Mary into the Rectors disused quarry, and had shown her how to fire the terrible machine. It lay now in the top-left-hand drawer of her toilet-tablea memento not included in the burning. Wynn would be pleased to see how she was not afraid.
She slipped up to the house to get it. When she came through the rain, the eyes in the head were alive with expectation. The mouth even tried to smile. But at sight of the revolver its corners went down just like Edna Gerritts. A tear trickled from one eye, and the head rolled from shoulder to shoulder as though trying to point out something.
Cassée. Tout cassée, it whimpered.
What do you say? said Mary disgustedly, keeping well to one side, though only the head moved.
Cassée, it repeated. Che me rends. Le médicin! Toctor!
Nein! said she, bringing all her small German to bear with the big pistol. Ich haben der todt Kinder gesehn.
The head was still. Marys hand dropped. She had been careful to keep her finger off the trigger for fear of accidents. After a few moments waiting, she returned to the destructor, where the flames were falling, and churned up Wynns charring books with the poker. Again the head groaned for the doctor.
Stop that! said Mary, and stamped her foot. Stop that, you bloody pagan!
The words came quite smoothly and naturally. They were Wynns own words, and Wynn was a gentleman who for no consideration on earth would have torn little Edna into those vividly coloured strips and strings. But this thing hunched under the oak-tree had done that thing. It was no question of reading horrors out of newspapers to Miss Fowler. Mary had seen it with her own eyes on the Royal Oak kitchen table. She must not allow her mind to dwell upon it. Now Wynn was dead, and everything connected with him was lumping and rustling and tinkling under her busy poker into red black dust and grey leaves of ash. The thing beneath the oak would die too. Mary had seen death more than once. She came of a family that had a knack of dying under, as she told Miss Fowler, most distressing circumstances. She would stay where she was till she was entirely satisfied that It was deaddead as dear papa in the late eighties; aunt Mary in eighty-nine; mamma in ninety-one; cousin Dick in ninety-five; Lady McCauslands housemaid in ninety-nine; Lady McCauslands sister in nineteen hundred and one; Wynn buried five days ago; and Edna Gerritt still waiting for decent earth to hide her. As she thoughther underlip caught up by one faded canine, brows knit and nostrils wideshe wielded the poker with lunges that jarred the grating at the bottom, and careful scrapes round the brickwork above. She looked at her wrist-watch. It was getting on to half-past four, and the rain was coming down in earnest. Tea would be at five. If It did not die before that time, she would be soaked and would have to change. Meantime, and this occupied her, Wynns things were burning well in spite of the hissing wet, though now and again a book-back with a quite distinguishable title would be heaved up out of the mass. The exercise of stoking had given her a glow which seemed to reach to the marrow of her bones. She hummedMary never had a voiceto herself. She had never believed in all those advanced viewsthough Miss Fowler herself leaned a little that wayof womans work in the world; but now she saw there was much to be said for them. This, for instance, was her workwork which no man, least of all Dr. Hennis, would ever have done. A man, at such a crisis, would be what Wynn called a sportsman; would leave everything to fetch help, and would certainly bring It into the house. Now a womans business was to make a happy home forfor a husband and children. Failing theseit was not a thing one should allow ones mind to dwell uponbut
Stop it! Mary cried once more across the shadows. Nein, I tell you! Ich haben der todt Kinder gesehn.
But it was a fact. A woman who had missed these things could still be usefulmore useful than a man in certain respects. She thumped like a pavior through the settling ashes at the secret thrill of it. The rain was damping the fire, but she could feelit was too dark to seethat her work was done. There was a dull red glow at the bottom of the destructor, not enough to char the wooden lid if she slipped it half over against the driving wet. This arranged, she leaned on the poker and waited, while an increasing rapture laid hold on her. She ceased to think. She gave herself up to feel. Her long pleasure was broken by a sound that she had waited for in agony several times in her life. She leaned forward and listened, smiling. There could be no mistake. She closed her eyes and drank it in, Once it ceased abruptly.
Go on, she murmured, half aloud. That isnt the end.
Then the end came very distinctly in a lull between two rain-gusts. Mary Postgate drew her breath short between her teeth and shivered from head to foot. Thats all right, said she contentedly, and went up to the house, where she scandalised the whole routine by taking a luxurious hot bath before tea, and came down looking, as Miss Fowler said when she saw her lying all relaxed on the other sofa, quite handsome!
IT WAS not part of their blood, It came to them very late With long arrears to make good, When the English began to hate.
They were not easily moved,
Their voices were even and low,
It was not preached to the crowd,
It was not suddenly bred, |
;